BANCROFT 

LIBRAKf 

///    S /////// S      •/ 


THE     KAATERSKILL     EDITION. 


LIFE  AND  WORKS 


OF 


WASHINGTON  IRVING, 


EMBRACING  THE   FOLLOWING  VOLUMES: 

THE  LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS.—  ASTORIA;  OR,  ANEC- 

DOTES OF  AN  ENTERPRISE  BEYOND  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS.—  TOUR 

ON     THE     PRAIRIES.—  ABBOTSFORD.—NEWSTEAD    ABBEY.—  LIFE 

OF    MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS.—  LIFE    OF    OLIVER 

GOLDSMITH.  —  BONNEVILLE'S      ADVENTURES      IN 

THE   FAR    WEST.—  THE   CRAYON  PAPERS, 

AND     MOORISH     CHRONICLES. 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 

COMPLETE     AND      UNABRIDGED. 

SECOND   SERIES. 


WITH  SIXTEEN  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS   PRINTED  IN  COLORS  FROM  DESIGNS  MADE  EXPRESSLY 

FOR  THIS   EDITION   BY  JOSEPH   LAUBER. 


NEW     YORK: 

POLLARD  &  MOSS,  PUBLISHERS, 

47     JOHN     STREET. 
l883- 


; 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  i83i,by 

POLLARD  &  MOSS. 
In  tne  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


&£:    ' 


CONTENTS. 


VOLUME  THREE. 


COLUMBUS. 


PREFACE 


PAGE 
'  3 


BOOK  I. 


CHAP.  I. — Birth,  Parentage,  and  early  Life  of 
Columbus  .......  8 

CHAP.  II. — Early  Voyages  of  Columbus      .        .       9 

CHAP.  III. — Progress  of  Discovery  under  Prince 
Henry  of  Portugal  .  .  to 

CHAP.  IV. — Residence  of  Columbus  at  Lisbon. 
— Ideas  concerning  Islands  in  the  Ocean  .  12 

CHAP.  V. — Grounds  on  which  Columbus  found- 
ed his  Belief  of  the  existence  of  Undiscovered 
Lands  in  the  West 14 

CHAP.  VI. — Correspondence  of  Columbus  with 
Paulo  Toscanelli. — Events  in  Portugal  rela- 
tive to  Discoveries. — Proposition  of  Colum- 
bus to  the  Portuguese  Court. — Departure  from 
Portugal 16 

BOOK  II. 

CHAP.  I. — Proceedings  of  Columbus  after  leav- 
ing Portugal. — His  Applications  in  Spain. — 
Characters  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  .  .  21 

CHAP.  II. — Columbus  at  the  Court  of  Spain         .     23 

CHAP.  III. — Columbus  before  the  Council  of 
Salamanca  .......  24 

CHAP.  IV. — Further  Applications  at  the  Court 
of  Castile. — Columbus  follows  the  Court  in  its 
Campaigns  .......  27 

CHAP.  V.— Columbus  at  the  Convent  of  La  Ra- 
bida  .........  29 

CHAP.  VI.— Application  to  the  Court  at  the  time 
of  the  Surrender  of  Granada  .  .  .  .  30  j 

CHAP.  VII. — Arrangement  with  the  Spanish  Sove- 
reigns.— Preparations  for  the  Expedition  at 
the  Port  of  Palos 32 

CHAP.  VIII.— Columbus  at  the  Port  of  Palos.— 
Preparations  for  the  Voyage  of  Discovery  .  33 

BOOK  III. 

CHAP.  I.— Departure  of  Columbus  on  his  first 
Voyage 35 

CHAP.  II. — Continuation  of  the  Voyage. — First 
Notice  of  the  Variation  of  the  Needle  .  .  36 

CHAP.  Ill — Continuation  of  the  Voyage. — Vari- 
ous Terrors  of  the  Seamen  .  .  .  -37 

CHAP.  IV. — Continuation  of  the  Voyage. —  Dis- 
covery of  Land 39 

BOOK  IV. 

CHAP.  I. — First  Landing   of  Columbus   in    the 

New  World 42 

CHAP.  II. — Cruise  among  the  Bahama  Islands  .  44 

CHAP.  III. — Discovery  and  Coasting  of  Cuba     .  46 

CHAP    IV.— Further  Coasting  of  Cuba         .         .  48 
CHAP.  V. — Search  after  the   supposed  Island  of 

Babeque. — Desertion  of  the  Pinta     .         .         .50 

CHAP.  Vf. — Discovery  of  Hispaniola         .         .  51 

CHAP.  VII. — Coasting   of  Hispaniola        .        .  55 

CHAP.  VIII.— Shipwreck 56 


CHAP.  IX. — Transactions  with  the  Natives  .  57 
CHAP.  X. — Building  of  the  Fortress  of  La  Navi- 

dad    .........     59 

CHAP.  XI. — Regulation  of  the  Fortress  of  La 

Navidad. — Departure  of  Columbus  for  Spain  .     60 

BOOK  V. 

CHAP.  I. — Coasting  towards  the  Eastern  End  of 
Hispaniola. — Meeting  with  Pinzon. — Affair 
with  the  Natives  at  the  Gulf  of  Samana  . 

CHAP.  II. — Return  Voyage. — Violent  Storms. — 
Arrival  at  the  Azores  ..... 

CHAP.  III. — Transactions  at  the  Island  of  St. 
Mary's  .  .  

CHAP.  IV. — Arrival  at  Portugal. — Visit  to  the 
Court 

CHAP.  V. — Reception  of  Columbus  at  Palos 

CHAP.  VI. — Reception  of  Columbus  by  the 
Spanish  Court  at  Barcelona  .... 

CHAP.  VII. — Sojourn  of  Columbus  at  Barcelona. 
— Attentions  paid  him  by  the  Sovereigns  and 
Courtiers  ........ 

CHAP.  VIII. — Papal  Bull  of  Partition. — Prepara- 
tions for  a  Second  Voyage  of  Columbus 

CHAP.  IX. — Diplomatic  Negotiations  between 
the  Courts  of  Spain  and  Portugal  with  respect 
to  the  New  Discoveries  ..... 

CHAP.  X. — Further  preparations  for  the  Second 
Voyage. — Character  of  Alonso  de  Ojeda. — 
Difference  of  Columbus  with  Soria  and  Fon- 


62 
64 
66 

67 
69 

70 


BOOK  VI. 

CHAP.  I. — Departure  of  Columbus  on  his  Second 
Voyage. — Discovery  of  the  Caribbee  Islands  . 

CHAP.  II. — Transactions  at  the  Island  of  Guada- 
loupe  .  

CHAP.  III. — Cruise  among  the  Caribbee 
Islands  ........ 

CHAP.  IV. — Arrival  at  the  Harbor  of  La  Navidad. 
— Disaster  of  the  Fortress  . 

CHAP.  V. — Transactions  with  the  Natives. — Sus- 
picious Conduct  of  Guacanacari 

CHAP.  VI. — Founding  of  the  City  of  Isabella. — 
Maladies  of  the  Spaniards  . 

CHAP.  VII. — Expedition  of  Alonzo  de  Ojeda  to 
Explore  the  Interior  of  the  Island. — Dispatch 
of  the  Ships  to  Spain  . 

CHAP.  VIII.— Discontents  at  Isabella. — Mutiny 
of  Bernal  Diaz  de  Pisa 

CHAP.  IX. — Expedition  of  Columbus  to  the 
Mountains  of  Cibao 

CHAP.  X. — Excursion  of  Juan  de  Luxan  among 
the  Mountains. — Customs  and  Characteristics 
of  the  Natives.- — Columbus  returns  to  Isa- 
bella   

CHAP.  XI — Arrival  of  Columbus  at  Isabella. — 
Sickness  of  the  Colony  ..... 

CHAP.  XII. — Distribution  of  the  Spanish  Forces 
in  the  Interior. — Preparations  for  a  Voyage  to 
Cuba  


72 

73 

76 
77 

79 
80 
82 
84 
86 


91 

9:2 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  VII. 

CHAP.  I. — Voyage  to  the  East  End  of  Cuba        .   101 

CHAP   II. — Discovery  of  Jamaica        .         .         .   103 

CHAP.  III. — Return  to  Cuba. — Navigation  among 
the  Islands  called  the  Queen's  Gardens  .  104 

CHAP.  IV. — Coasting  of  the  Southern  side  of 
Cuba  .  .  .  .  •  .  .  .  .105 

CHAP.  V. — Return  of  Columbus  along  the  South- 
ern Coast  of  Cuba 108 

CHAP.  VI— Coasting  Voyage  along  the  South 
side  of  Jamaica  ......  no 

CHAP.  VII. — Voyage  along  the  South  side  of 
Hispaniola,  and  return  to  Isabella  .  .  in 

BOOK  VIII. 

CHAP.  I. — Arrival  of  the  Admiral  at  Isabella. — 
Character  of  Bartholomew  Columbus  .  .  112 

CHAP.  II. — Misconduct  of  Don  Pedro  Margarite, 
and  his  Departure  from  the  Island  .  .  114 

CHAP.  III. — Troubles  with  the  Natives. — Alonzo 
de  Ojeda  besieged  by  Caonabo  .  .  .  115 

CHAP.  IV. — Measures  of  Columbus  to  restore 
the  Quiet  of  the  Island. — Expedition  of  Ojeda 
to  surprise  Caonabo 117 

CHAP.  V. — Arrival  of  Antonio  de  Torres  with 
four  Ships  from  Spain. — His  return  with  In- 
dian Slaves  . 119 

CHAP.  VI. — Expedition  of  Columbus  against  the 
Indians  of  the  Vega. — Battle  ....  120 

CHAP.  VII. — Subjugation  of  the  Natives. — Im- 
position of  Tribute  ......  122 

CHAP.  VIII. — Intrigues  against  Columbus  in  the 
Court  of  Spain. — Aguado  sent  to  investigate 
the  Affairs  of  Hispaniola  ....  124 

CHAP.  IX. — Arrival  of  Aguado  at  Isabella.  — His 
arrogant  Conduct. — Tempest  in  the  Harbor  .  126 

CHAP.  X. — Discovery  of  the  Mines  of  Hayna    .  127 

BOOK  IX. 

CHAP.  I. — Return  of  Columbus  to  Spain  with 
Aguado 128 

CHAP.  II. — Decline  of  the  Popularity  of  Colum- 
bus in  Spain. — His  Reception  by  the  Sove- 
reigns at  Burgos. — He  proposes  a  third  Voy- 
age   130 

CHAP.  III. — Preparations  for  a  Third  Voyage. — 
Disappointments  and  Delays  ....  132 

BOOK  X. 

CHAP.  I. — Departure  of  Columbus  from  Spain 
on  his  Third  Voyage. — Discovery  of  Trinidad  135 

CHAP.  II. — Voyage  through  the  Gulf  of  Paria    .  137 

CHAP.  III. — Continuation  of  the  Voyage  through 
the  Gulf  of  Paria. — Return  to  Hispaniola  .  140 

CHAP.  IV. — Speculations  of  Columbus  concern- 
ing the  Coast  of  Paria 142 

BOOK  XL 

CHAP.  I. — Administration  of  the  Adelantado. — 
Expedition  to  the  Province  of  Xaragua  .  .  144 

CHAP.  II. — Establishment  of  a  Chain  of  Military 
Posts. — Insurrection  of  Guarionex,  the  Cacique 
of  the  Vega 146 

CHAP.  III. — The  Adelantado  repairs  to  Xaragua 
to  receive  Tribute  ......  148 

CHAP.  IV. — Conspiracy  of  Roldan      .         .         .  150 

CHAP.  V. — The  Adelantado  repairs  to  the  Vega 
in  relief  of  Fort  Conception. — His  Interview 
with  Roldan  .......  151 

CHAP.  VI  — Second  Insurrection  of  Guarionex, 
and  his  Flight  to  the  Mountains  of  Ciguay  .  153 

CHAP.  VII. — Campaign  of  the  Adelantado  in  the 
Mountaigns  of  Ciguay 154 

BOOK  XII. 

CHAP.  I. — Confusion  in  the  Island. — Proceed- 
ings of  the  Rebels  at  Xaragua  .  .  .156 


CHAP.  II. — Negotiation  of  the  Admiral  with  the 
Rebels. — Departure  of  Ships  for  Spain  .  .  157 

CHAP.  III. — Negotiations  and  Arrangements  with 
the  Rebels  .......  159 

CHAP.  IV. — Grants  made  to  Roldan  and  his  Fol- 
lowers.— Departure  of  several  of  the  Rebels 
for  Spain  ...  ....  162 

CHAP.  V. — Arrival  of  Ojeda  with  a  Squadron  at 
the  Western  part  of  the  Island. — Roldan  sent 
to  meet  him  .......  164 

CHAP.  VI. — Manoeuvres  of  Roldan  and  Ojeda     .   165 

CHAP.  VII. — Conspiracy  of  Guevara  and  Moxica  166 

BOOK  XIII. 

CHAP.  I. — Representations  at  Court  against  Co- 
lumbus.— Bobadilla  empowered  to  examine 
into  his  Conduct  ......  169 

CHAP.  II. — Arrival  of  Bobadilla  at  San  Domingo. 
— His  violent  Assumption  of  the  Command  .  171 

CHAP.  III.— Columbus  summoned  to  appear  be- 
fore Bobadilla  .  .  ....  173 

CHAP.  IV. — Columbus  and  his  Brothers  arrested 
and  sent  to  Spain  in  Chains  ....  173 

BOOK  XIV. 

CHAP.  I. — Sensation  in  Spain  on  the  arrival  of 
Columbus  in  Irons. — His  Appearance  at  Court  176 

CHAP.  II. — Contemporary  Voyages  of  Dis- 
covery .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  177 

CHAP.  III. — Nicholas  de  Ovando  appointed  to 
supersede  Bobadilla  .....  179 

CHAP.  IV. — Proposition  of  Columbus  relative 
to  the  Recovery  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  .  .  182 

CHAP.  V. — Preparations  of  Columbus  for  a 
Fourth  Voj'age  of  Discovery  ...  .  183 

BOOK   XV. 

CHAP.  I. — Departure  of  Columbus  on  his  Fourth 
Voyage. — Refused  Admission  to  the  Harbor 
of  San  Domingo. — Exposed  to  a  violent  Tem- 
pest   185 

CHAP.  II. — Voyage  along  the  Coast  of  Hon- 
duras ........  187 

CHAP.  III. — Voyage  along  the  Mosquito  Coast, 
and  Transactions  at  Cariari  ....  189 

CHAP.  IV. — Voyage  along  Coast  Rica. — Specu- 
lations concerning  the  Isthmus  atVeragua  .  190 

CHAP.  V. — Discovery  of  Puerto  Bello  and  El 
Retrete. — Columbus  abandons  the  search  after 
the  Straight 192 

CHAP.  VI. — Return  to  Veragua. — The  Adelan- 
tado explores  the  Country  ....  193 

CHAP.  VII. — Commencement  of  a  Settlement  on 
the  river  Belen. — Conspiracy  of  the  Natives. 
— Expedition  of  the  Adelantado  to  surprise 
Quibian  ........  196 

CHAP.  VIII. — Disasters   of  the  Settlement        .   198 

CHAP.  IX. — Distress  of  the  Admiral  on  board  of 
his  Ship.  — Ultimate  Relief  of  the  Settlement  .  199 

CHAP.  X. — Departure  from  the  Coast  of  Veragua. 
— Arrival  at  Jamaica. — Stranding  of  the  Ships  201 

BOOK  XVI. 

CHAP.  I. — Arrangement  of  Diego  Mendez  with 
the  Caciques  for  Supplies  of  Provisions. — Sent 
to  San  Domingo  by  Columbus  in  quest  of  Re- 
lief   202 

CHAP.  II.  Mutiny  of  Porras          ....  205 

CHAP.  III. — Scarcity  of  Provisions. — Stratagem 
of  Columbus  to  obtain  Supplies  from  the  Na- 
tives .  .......  207 

CHAP.  IV. — Mission  of  Diego  de  Escobar  to  the 
Admiral 208 

CHAP.  V. — Voyage  of  Diego  Mendez  and  Bar- 
tholomew Fiesco  in  a  Canoe  to  Hispaniola  .  209 

CHAP.  VI. — Overtures  of  Columbus  to  the  Muti- 
neers.— Battle  of  the  Adelantado  with  Porras 
and  his  Followers  ....  .  211 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK  XVII. 

CHAP.  I. — Administration  of  Ovandoin  Hispani- 
ola. — Oppression  of  the  Natives  .  .  .  213 

CHAP.  II. — Massacre  at  Xaragua. — Fate  of  Ana- 
caona  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .215 

CHAP.  III. — War  with  the  Natives  of  Higuey     .  217 

CHAP.  IV. — Close  of  the  War  with  Higuey. — 
Fate  of  Cotabanama 


219 


BOOK  XVIII. 


CHAP.  I. — Departure  of  Columbus  for  San  Do- 
mingo.— His  Return  to  Spain  .  .  .  221 

CHAP.  II. — Illness  of  Columbus  at  Seville. — Ap- 
plication to  the  Crown  for  a  Restitution  of  his 
Honors. — Death  of  Isabella  ....  222 

CHAP.  III. — Columbus  arrives  at  Court. — Fruit- 
less Application  to  the  King  for  Redress  .  225 

CHAP.  IV. — Death  of  Columbus 


CHAP.  V. — Observations 
Columbus 


on    the   Character    of 


227 
228 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. — Transportation  of  the  Remains  of  Col- 
umbus from  St.  Domingo  to  the  Havana  .  235 

No.  II. — Notice  of  the  Descendants  of  Colum- 
bus ........ 

No.  III. — Fernando  Columbus    . 

No.  IV. — Age  of  Columbus 

No.  V. — Lineage  of  Columbus    . 

No.  VI. — Birthplace  of  Columbus 

No.  VII. — The  Colombos 245 

No.  VIII. — Expedition  of  John  of  Anjou     .        .  246 

No.  IX. — Capture  of  the  Venetian  Galleys  by 
Colombo  the  Younger 246 

No.  X. — Amerigo  Vespucci         ....  247 

No.  XI — Martin   Alonzo  Pinzon        .         .        .  253 


236 
241 
241 
242 

243 


No.  XII — Rumor  of  the  Pilot  said  to  have  died 
in  the  House  of  Columbus  .... 

No.    XIII.— Martin    Behem         .... 

No.  XIV. — Voyages  of  the  Scandinavians 

No.  XV. — Circumnavigation  of  Africa  by  the 
Ancients 

No.  XVI. — Of  the  ships  of  Columbus 

No.  XVII. — Route  of  Columbus  in  his  first 
Voyage  ........ 

No.  XVIII. — Principles  upon  which  the  Sums 
mentioned  in  this  Work  have  been  reduced 
into  modern  Currency 

No.  XIX.— Prester  John 

No.  XX.— Marco  Polo 

No.  XXL— The  Work   of  Marco  Polo 

No.  XXII. —Sir  John  Mandeville 

No.  XXIII.— The  Zones 

No.  XXIV.  — Of  the  Atalantis  of  Plato 

No.  XXV. — The  Imaginary  Island  of  St.  Bran- 
dan  .  ....... 

No.  XXVL— The  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities       . 

No.  XXVII. — Discovery  of  the  Island  of  Madeira 

No.  XXVI1L— Las  Casas 

No.  XXIX.— Peter    Martyr 

No.  XXX.— Oviedo 

No.  XXXI.— Cura  de  Los  Palacios     . 

No.  XXXII. — "  Navigatione  del  Re  de  Castiglia 
del  Isole  e  Paese  Nuovamente  Ritrovate." — 
"  Navigatio  Christophori  Colombi."  .  .  279 

No.  XXXIII.— Antonio  de  Herrera    .        .        .279 

No.  XXXIV.— Bishop  Fonseca      ....  280 

No.  XXXV. — Of  the  situation  of  the  Terrestrial 
Paradise 281 

No.  XXXVI.— Will  of  Columbus        .        •.        .283 

No.  XXXVII.— Signature  of  Columbus      „        .285 

INDEX 2s7 


253 

254 
255 

257 
257 

258 


263 
263 
264 
267 
268 
269 
269 

270 

272 
272 
274 
276 
278 
278 


ASTORIA. 


INTRODUCTION 301 

CHAPTER  I. 

Objects  of  American  enterprise — gold  hunting 
and  fur  trading — their  effect  on  colonization  — 
early  French  Canadian  settlers — Ottowa  and 
Huron  hunters — an  Indian  trading  camp — 
couriers  des  bois,  or  rangers  of  the  woods — 
their  roaming  life — their  revels  and  excesses — 
licensed  traders — missionaries — trading  posts 

—  primitive    French    Canadian   merchant— his 
establishment  and   dependants — British  Ca- 
nadian  fur  merchant  —  origin  of  the   North- 
west   Company  —  its    constitution  —  its     in- 
ternal  trade  —  a  candidate   for   the  company 

—  privations    in    the    wilderness  —  northwest 
clerks — northwest  partners — a  northwest  nabob 
— feudal  notions  in  the  forest — the  lords  of  the 
lakes — Fort   William — its    parliamentary   hall 
and  banqueting  room — was  sailing  in  the  wil- 
derness,    ........   302 

CHAPTER  II. 

Rise  of  the  Mackinaw  Company — attempt  of  the 
American  government  to  counteract  foreign 
influence  over  the  Indian  tribes — John  Jacob 
Astor — his  birth-place  —  his  arrival  in  the 
United  States — what  first  turned  his  attention 
to  the  fur  trade — his  character,  enterprises,  and 
success — ;his  communications  with  the  Ameri- 
can government — origin  of  the  American  Fur 
Company,  .  ,  .  .  •  .  »  •  305 


CHAPTER  III. 

Fur  trade  in  the  Pacific — American  coasting  voy- 
ages— Russian  enterprises — discovery  of  the 
Columbia  River — Carver's  project  to  found  a 
settlement  there  —  Mackenzie's  expedition — 
Lewis  and  Clarke's  journey  across  the  Rocky 
Mountains  —  Mr.  Astor's  grand  commercial 
scheme  —  his  correspondence  on  the  subject 
with  Mr.  Jefferson — his  negotiations  with  the 
Northwest  Company — his  steps  to  carry  his 
scheme  into  effect 307 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Two  expeditions  set  on  foot — the  Tonquin  and 
her  crew — Captain  Thorn,  his  character — the 
partners  and  clerks  —  Canadian  voyageurs, 
their  habits,  employments,  dress,  character, 
songs — expedition  of  a  Canadian  boat  and  its 
crew  by  land  and  water — arrival  at  New  York 
— preparations  for  a  sea  voyage — northwest 
braggarts  —  underhand  precautions  —  letter  of 
instructions, 310 

CHAPTER  V. 

Sailing  of  the  Tonquin — a  rigid  commander  and 
a  reckless  crew — landsmen  on  shipboard — 
fresh-water  sailors  at  sea — lubber  nests — ship 
fare  —  a  Labrador  veteran  —  literary  clerks — 
curious  travellers — Robinson  Crusoe's  Island 
— quarter-deck  quarrels — Falkland  Islands — 
a  wild  goose  chase — Port  Egmont — epitaph 
hunting — Old  Mortality — penguin  shooting— 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


sportsmen  left   in   the  lurch — a  hard  pull  — 
further  altercations — arrival  at  Owyhee,   .         .  312 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Owyhee  —  Sandwich  Islanders  —  their  nautical 
talents — Tamaahmaah — his  navy — his  negotia- 
tions— views  of  Mr.  Astor  with  respect  to  the 
Sandwich  Islands — Karakakora — royal  monop- 
oly of  pork  —  description  of  the  islanders  — 
gayeties  on  shore — chronicler  of  the  island — 
place  where  Captain  Cook  was  killed — John 
Young,  a  nautical  governor  —  his  story  — 
Waititi  —  a  royal  residence  —  a  royal  visit  — 
grand  ceremonials  —  close  dealing  —  a  royal 
pork  merchant — grievances  of  a  matter-of-fact- 
inan,  .  3T5 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Departure  from  the  Sandwich  Islands — misun- 
derstandings— miseries  of  a  suspicious  man  — 
arrival  at  the  Columbia — dangerous  service — 
gloomy  apprehensions — bars  and  breakers — 
perils  of  the  ship — disasters  of  a  boat's  crew — 
burial  of  a  Sandwich  Islander,  .  .  .  319 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Mouth  of  the  Columbia — the  native  tribes — their 
fishing — their  canoes — bold  navigators — eques- 
trian Indians  and  piscatory  Indians,  difference 
in  their  physical  organization — search  for  a 
trading  site — expedition  of  M'Dougal  and 
David  Stewart  —  Comcomly,  the  one-eyed 
chieftain — influence  of  wealth  in  savage  life — 
slavery  among  the  natives — an  aristocracy  of 
Flatheads — hospitality  among  the  Chinooks — 
Comcomly's  daughter— her  conquest,  '  .  .  321 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Point  George — founding  of  Astoria  —  Indian 
visitors — their  reception — the  captain  taboos 
the  ship — departure  of  the  Tonquin — comments 
on  the  conduct  of  Captain  Thorn,  .  .  .  322 

CHAPTER  X. 

Disquieting  rumors  from  the  interior— reconnoi- 
tering  party— preparations  fora  trading  post — 
an  unexpected  arrival — a  spy  in  the  camp — 
expedition  into  the  interior  —  shores  of  the 
Columbia — Mount  Coffin — Indian  Sepulchre — 
the  land  of  spirits — Columbian  valley — Van- 
couver's Point  —  falls  and  rapids — a  great 
fishing  mart — the  village  of  Wish-ram — differ- 
ence between  fishing  Indians  and  hunting 
Indians — effects  of  habits  of  trade  on  the  In- 
dian character — post  established  at  the  Oakin- 
agan, 323 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Alarm  at  Astoria — rumor  of  Indian  hostilities — 
preparations  for  defence — tragical  late  of  the 
Tonquin, 326 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Gloom  at  Astoria — an  ingenious  stratagem — the 
smallpox  chief — launching  of  the  Dolly — an 
arrival — a  Canadian  trapper — a  freeman  of  the 
forest  —  an  Iroquois  hunter  —  winter  on  the 
Columbia — festivities  of  New  Year,  .  .  329 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Expedition  by  land — Wilson  P.  Hunt — his  char- 
acter— Donald  M'Kenzie — recruiting  service 
among  the  voyage urs — a  bark  canoe — chapel 
of  St.  Anne — votive  offerings — pious  carousals 
— a  ragged  regiment — Mackinaw — picture  of  a 
trading  post  —  frolicking  voyageurs  —  swells 


and  swaggerers — Indian  coxcombs — a  man  of 
the  north — jockeyship  of  voyageurs — inefficacy 
of  gold — weight  of  a  feather — Mr.  Ramsay 
Crooks — his  character — his  risks  among  the 
Indians — his  warning  concerning  the  Sioux 
and  Blackfeet — embarkation  of  recruits — part- 
ing scenes  between  brothers,  cousins,  wives, 
sweethearts  and  pot  companions,  .  .  .  331 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

St.  Louis — its  situation — motley  population — 
French  Creole  traders  and  their  dependants — 
Missouri  Fur  Company — Mr.  Manuel  Lisa — 
Mississippi  boatmen — vagrant  Indians — Ken- 
tucky hunters — old  French  mansion — fiddling 
— billiards — Mr.Joseph  Miller — his  character — 
recruits — voyage  up  the  Missouri — difficulties 
of  the  river — merits  of  Canadian  voyageurs — 
arrival  at  the  Nodowa — Mr.  Robert  M'Lellan 
joins  the  party — John  Day,  a  Virginia  hunter 
— description  of  him — Mr.  Hunt  returns  to  St. 
Louis,  ....  .  333 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Opposition  of  the  Missouri  Fur  Company  — 
Blackfeet  Indians=Pierre  Dorion,a  half-breed 
interpreter  —  old  Dorion  and  his  hybrid 
progeny — family  quarrels — cross  purposes  be- 
tween Dorion  and  Lisa  —  renegadoes  from 
Nodowa  —  perplexities  of  a  commander  — 
Messrs.  Bradbury  and  Nuttall  join  the  expedi- 
tion— legal  embarrassments  of  Pierre  Dorion — 
departure  from  St.  Louis — conjugal  discipline 
of  a  half-breed — annual  swelling  of  the  rivers 
—Daniel  Boon,  the  patriarch  of  Kentucky — 
John  Colter^- his  adventures  among  the  In- 
dians— rumors  of  danger  ahead — Fort  Osage — 
an  Indian  war-feast — troubles  in  the  Dorion 
family — Buffaloes  and  turkey-buzzards,  .  .  335 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Return  of  spring — appearance  of  snakes — great 
flights  of  wild  pigeons — renewal  of  the  voyage 
— night  encampments  —  Platte  River  —  cere- 
monials on  passing  it — signs  of  Indian  war 
parlies  —  magnificent  prospect  at  Papillion 
Creek — desertion  of  two  hunters — an  irruption 
into  the  camp  of  Indian  desperadoes — village 
of  the  Omahas — anecdotes  of  the  tribe — feudal 
wars  of  the  Indians — story  of  Blackbird,  the 
famous  Omaha  chief, 339 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Rumors  of  danger  from  the  Sioux  Tetons — ruth- 
less character  of  those  savages — pirates  of  the 
Missouri — their  affair  with  Crooks  and  M'Lel- 
lan— a  trading  expedition  broken  up-  M'Lel- 
lan's  vow  of  vengeance  —  uneasiness  in  the 
camp — desertions — departure  from  the  Omaha 
village — meeting  with  Jones  and  Carson,  two 
adventurous  trappers  —  scientific  pursuits  of 
Messrs.  Bradbury  and  Nuttall  —  zeal  of  a 
botanist — adventure  of  Mr.  Bradbury  with  a 
Ponca  Indian — expedient  of  the  pocket  com- 
pass and  microscope — a  messenger  from  Lisa 
— motives  for  pressing  forward,  .  .  .  342 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Camp  gossip  —  deserters  —  recruits  —  Kentucky 
hunters — a  veteran  woodman — tidings  of  Mr. 
Henry — danger  from  the  Blackfeet — alteration 
of  plans — scenery  of  the  river — buffalo  roads — 
iron  ore — country  of  the  Sioux — a  land  of  dan- 
ger— apprehensions  of  the  voyageurs — Indian 
scouts  —  threatened  hostilities  —  a  council  of 
war — an  array  of  battle — a  parley — the  pipe  of 
peace — speech-making,  ...  .  345 


CONTENTS. 


vu 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  great  bend  of  the  Missouri — Crooks  and 
M'Lellan  meet  with  two  of  their  Indian  op- 
ponents— wanton  outrage  of  a  white  man  the 
cause  of  Indian  hostilities — dangers  and  pre- 
cautions—  an  Indian  war  party  —  dangerous 
situation  of  Mr.  Hunt — a  friendly  encampment 
— feasting  and  dancing — approach  of  Manuel 
Lisa  and  his  party — a  grim  meeting  between 
old  rivals — Pierre  Dorion  in  a  fury — a  burst  of 
chivalry 348 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Features  of  the  wilderness — herds  of  buffalo — 
antelopes — their  varieties  and  habits — John 
Day — his  hunting  stratagem — interview  with 
three  Arickaras — negotiations  between  the 
rival  parties — the  Left-handed  and  the  Big 
Man,  two  Arickara  chiefs — Arickara  village — 
its  inhabitants — ceremonials  on  landing — a 
council  lodge — grand  conference — speech  of 
Lisa — negotiation  for  horses — shrewd  sug- 
gestion of  Gray  Eyes,  an  Arickara  chief — 
encampment  of  the  trading  parties,  .  ,  350 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

An  Indian  horse  fair — love  of  the  Indians  for 
horses — scenes  in  the  Arickara  village — Indian 
hospitality — duties  of  Indian  women — game 
habits  of  the  men — their  indolence — love  of 
gossiping  —  rumors  of  lurking  enemies  - — 
scouts — an  alarm — a  sallying  forth — Indian 
dogs — return  of  a  horse-stealing  party — an  In- 
dian deputation — fresh  alarms — return  of  a 
successful  war  party — dress  of  the  Arickaras 
— Indian  toilet — triumphal  entry  of  the  war 
party — meetings  of  relations  and  friends — 
Indian  sensibility — meeting  of  a  wounded 
warrior  and  his  mother— festivities  and  lamen- 
tations, .  '  * 352 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Wilderness  of  the  Far  West — great  American 
desert  —  parched  seasons  —  Black  Hills  — 
Rocky  Mountains — wandering  and  predatory 
hordes — speculations  on  what  may  be  the 
future  population — apprehended  dangers — a 
plot  to  desert — Rose  the  interpreter — his  sin- 
ister character — departure  from  the  Arickara 
village, 355 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Summer  weather  of  the  prairies — purity  of  the 
atmosphere — Canadians  on  the  march — sick- 
ness in  the  camp — Big  River — vulgar  nomen- 
clature—  suggestions  about  the  original  In- 
dian names — camp  of  Cheyennes — trade  for 
horses — character  of  the  Cheyennes  —  their 
horsemanship — historical  anecdotes  of  the 
tribe, 357 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

New  distribution  of  horses — secret  information 
of  treason  in  the  camp — Rose  the  interpreter 
— his  perfidious  character — his  plots — anec- 
dotes of  the  Crow  Indians — notorious  horse- 
stealers — some  account  of  Rose — a  desperado 
of  the  frontier,  ...  .  358 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Substitute  for  fuel  on  the  prairies — fossil  trees — 
fierceness  of  the  buffaloes  when  in  heat — three 
hunters  missing — signal  fires  and  smokes — 
uneasiness  concerning  the  lost  men — a  plan 
to  forestall  a  rogue — new  arrangement  with 
Rose — return  of  the  wanderers,  .  .  .  359 


CHAPTER  XXVI.  pAGE 

The  Black  Mountains — haunts  of  predatory  In- 
dians— their  wild  and  broken  appearance — 
superstition  concerning  them — thunder  spirits 
singular  noises  in  the  mountains  —  secret 
mines — hidden  treasures — mountains  in  labor 
— scientific  explanation — impassable  defiles — 
black-tailed  deer — the  bighorn  or  ahsahta — 
prospect  from  a  lofty  height — plain  with  herds 
of  buffalo — distant  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains— alarms  in  the  camp — tracks  of  grizzly 
bears — dangerous  nature  of  this  animal — ad- 
ventures of  William  Cannon  and  John  Day 
with  grizzly  bears, 360 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Indian  trail — rough  mountain  travelling — suffer- 
ings from  hunger  and  thirst — Powder  River — 
game  in  abundance — a  hunter's  paradise — 
mountain  peak  seen  at  a  great  distance — one 
of  the  Big  Horn  chain — Rocky  Mountains — 
extent — appearance — height — the  great  Ameri- 
can desert  —  various  characteristics  of  the 
mountains — Indian  superstitions  concerning 
them — land  of  souls — towns  of  the  free  and 
generous  spirits — happy  hunting  grounds,  .  362 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Region  of  the  Crow  Indians — scouts  on  the  look- 
out— visit  from  a  crew  of  hard  riders — a  Crow 
camp — presents  to  the  Crow  chief — bargaining 
—  Crow  bullies  —  Rose  among  his  Indian 
friends  —  parting  with  the  Crows  —  perplexi- 
ties among  the  mountains  —  more  of  the 
Crows  —  equestrian  children  —  starch  after 
stragglers,  .......  364 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Mountain  glens — wandering  band  of  savages — 
anecdotes  of  Shoshonies  and  Fiatheads — root 
diggers  —  their  solitary  lurking  habits  — 
gnomes  of  the  mountains  —  Wind  River  — 
scarcity  of  food — alteration  of  route — the  Pilot 
Knobs  or  Tetons— branch  of  the  Colorado — 
hunting  camp, 365 

CHAPTER    XXX. 

A  plentiful  hunting  camp — Shoshonie  hunters — 
Hoback's  River  —  Mad  River  —  encampment 
near  the  Pilot  Knobs — a  consultation— prepa- 
rations for  a  perilous  voyage 367 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  consultation  whether  to  proceed  by  land  or 
water — preparations  for  boat-building — an  ex- 
ploring party — a  party  of  trappers  detached — 
two  Snake  visitors — their  report  concerning 
the  river — confirmed  by  the  exploring  party 
— Mad  River  abandoned— arrival  at  Henrys 
Fort — detachment  of  Robinson,  Hoback  and 
Rezner  to  trap — Mr.  Miller  resolves  to  ac- 
company them — their  departure,  .  .  .  368 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Scanty  fare — a  mendicant  Snake — embarkation 
on  Henry  River — joy  of  the  voyageurs — arrival 
at  Snake  River — rapids  and  breakers — begin- 
ning of  misfortunes — Snake  encampments — 
parley  with  a  savage— a  second  disaster — loss 
of  a  boatman — the  Caldron  Linn,  .  .  .  370 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Gloomy  council — exploring  parties — discourag- 
ing reports — disastrous  experiment — detach- 
ments in  quest  of  succor — caches,  how  made 
— return  of  one  of  the  detachments — unsuc- 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


cessful — further  disappointments — the  Devil's 
Scuttle  Hole 372 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

Determination  of  the  party  to  proceed  on  foot — 
dreary  deserts  between  Snake  River  and  the 
Columbia — distribution  of  effects  preparatory 
to  a  march — division  of  the  party — rugged 
march  along  the  river — wild  and  broken  scene- 
ry— Shoshonies — alarm  of  a  Snake  encamp- 
ment— intercourse  with  the  Snakes — horse- 
dealing — value  of  a  tin  kettle — sufferings  from 
thirst — a  horse  reclaimed— fortitude  of  an  In- 
dian woman — scarcity  of  food — dog's  flesh  a 
dainty — news  of  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  party — 
painful  travelling  among  the  mountains — snow- 
storms— a  dreary  mountain  prospect — a  bi- 
vouac during  a  wintry  night  —  return  to  the 
river  bank, 374 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

An  unexpected  meeting — navigation  in  a  skin 
canoe — strange  fears  of  suffering  men — hard- 
ships of  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  comrades — tid- 
ings of  M'Lellan — a  retrogade  march — a  wil- 
low raft — extreme  suffering  of  some  of  the 
party — illness  of  Mr.  Crooks — impatience  of 
some  of  the  men — necessity  of  leaving  the  lag- 
gards behind,  ......  377 

CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

Mr.  Hunt  overtakes  the  advanced  part)' — Pierre 
Dorion,  and  his  skeleton  horse — a  Shoshonie 
camp — a  justifiable  outrage — feasting  on  horse 
flesh — Mr.  Crooks  brought  to  the  camp — un- 
dertakes to  relieve  his  men  —  the  skin  ferry- 
boat— frenzy  of  Prevost — his  melancholy  fate 
— enfeebled  state  of  John  Day — Mr.  Crooks 
again  left  behind — the  party  emerge  from 
among  the  mountains — interview  with  Sho- 
shonies— a  guide  procured  to  conduct  the 
party  across  a  mountain — ferriage  across  Snake 
River — reunion  with  Mr.  Crooks's  men — final 
departure  from  the  river,  ....  378 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Departure  from  the  Snake  River — mountains  to 
the  north — wayworn  travellers — an  increase  of 
the  Dorion  family — a  camp  of  Shoshonies — a 
New-Year  festival  among  the  Snakes — a  win- 
try march  through  the  mountains — a  sunny 
prospect  and  milder  climate — Indian  horse- 
tracks — grassy  valleys — a  camp  of  Sciatogas — 
joy  of  the  travellers — dangers  of  abundance — 
habits  of  the  Sciatogas — fate  of  Carriere — the 
Umatalla — arrival  at  the  banks  of  the  Colum- 
bia— tidings  of  the  scattered  members  of  the 
expedition — scenery  on  the  Columbia — tidings 
of  Astoria — arrival  at  the  falls,  .  .  .  380 

CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

The  village  of  Wish-ram — roguery  of  the  inhabi- 
tants—  their  habitations  —  tidings  of  Astoria 
— of  the  Tonquin  massacre — thieves  about  the 
camp — a  band  of  braggarts — embarkation — 
arrival  at  Astoria — a  joyful  reception — old 
comrades — adventures  of  heed,  M'Lellan,  and 
M'Kenzie  among  the  Snake  River  Mountains 
— rejoicing  at  Astoria,  .....  383 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Scanty  fare  during  the  winter — a  poor  hunting 
ground  —  the  return  of  the  fishing  season  — 
the  uthlecan  or  smelt — its  qualities — vast 
shoals  of  it — sturgeon — Indian  modes  of  tak- 
ing it — the  salmon — different  species — nature 


of  the  country  about  the  coast — forests  and 
forest  trees — a  remarkable  flowering  vine — 
animals — birds — reptiles — climate  west  of  the 
mountains — mildness  of  temperature — soil  of 
the  coast  and  the  interior,  ....  385 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Natives  in  the  neighborhood  of  Astoria — their 
persons  and  characteristics — causes  of  de- 
formity— their  dress — their  contempt  of  beards 
— ornaments — armor  and  weapons — mode  of 
flattening  the  head — extent  of  the  custom — re- 
ligious belief — the  two  great  spirits  of  the  air 
and  of  the  fire — priests  or  medicine  men — the 
rival  idols — polygamy  a  cause  of  greatness — 
petty  warfare — music,  dancing,  gambling — 
thieving  a  virtue — keen  traders — intrusive 
habits — abhorrence  of  drunkenness — anecdote 
of  Comcomly,  ......  386 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Spring  arrangements  at  Astoria — various  expedi- 
tions set  out — the  Long  Narrows — pilfering 
Indians — thievish  tribe  at  Wish-ram — portage 
at  the  falls — portage  by  moonlight — an  attack, 
a  rout,  and  a  robbery — Indian  cure  for  cow- 
ardice— a  parley  and  compromise — the  dis- 
patch party  turn  back — meet  Crooks  and  John 
Day — their  sufferings — Indian  perfidy — arrival 
at  Astoria 388 

CHAPTER   XLII. 

Comprehensive  views — to  supply  the  Russian 
fur  establishment — an  agent  sent  to  Russia — 
project  of  an  annual  ship — the  Beaver  fitted 
out — her  equipment  and  crew — instructions  to 
the  captain — the  Sandwich  Islands — rumors  of 
the  fate  of  the  Tonquin — precautions  on  reach- 
ing the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  .  .  .  391 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Active  operations  at  Astoria — various  expedi- 
tions fitted  out — Robert  Stuart  and  a  party 
destined  for  New  York — singular  conduct  of 
John  Day — his  fate — piratical  pass  and  hazard- 
ous portage — rattlesnakes — their  abhorrence 
of  tobacco — arrival  among  the  Wallah-Wallahs 
— purchase  of  horses — departure  of  Stuart  and 
his  band  for  the  mountains,  ....  392 

CHAPTER   XLIV. 

Route  of  Mr.  Stuart — dreary  wilds — thirsty  travel- 
ling— a  grove  and  streamlet — the  Blue  Moun- 
tains— a  fertile  plain  with  rivulets — sulphur 
spring — route  along  Snake  River — rumors  of 
white  men — the  Snake  and  his  horse — a  Snake 
guide — a  midnight  decampment — unexpected 
meeting  with  old  comrades — story  of  trappers' 
hardships — Salmon  Falls — a  great  fishery — 
mode  of  spearing  salmon — arrival  at  the  Cal- 
dron Linn — state  of  the  caches — new  resolution 
of  the  three  Kentucky  trappers,  ,  .  .  394 

CHAPTER   XLV. 

The  Snake  River  deserts — scanty  fare — bewil- 
dered travellers — prowling  Indians — a  giant 
Crow  chief — a  bully  rebuked — Indian  signals 
—smoke  on  the  mountains — Mad  River — an 
alarm — an  Indian  foray — a  scamper — a  rude 
Indian  joke — a  sharp-shooter  balked  of  his 
shot 39S 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Travellers  unhorsed — pedestrian  preparations — 
prying  spies — bonfire  of  baggage — a  march  on 
foot — rafting  a  river — the  wounded  elk — Indian 


CONTENTS. 


trails — wilful  conduct  of  Mr.  M'Lellan — grand 
prospect  from  a  mountain — distant  craters  of 
volcanoes — illness  of  Mr.  Crooks,  .  .  .  400 

CHAPTER   XLVII. 

Ben  Jones  and  a  grizzly  bear — rocky  heights — 
mountain  torrents — traces  of  M'Lellan — vol- 
canic remains — mineral  earths — peculiar  clay 
for  pottery — dismal  plight  of  M'Lellan — starv- 
ation— shocking  proposition  of  a  desperate 
man — a  broken-down  bull — a  ravenous  meal — 
Indian  graves — hospitable  Snakes — a  forlorn 
alliance, 402 

CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

Spanish  River  scenery — trial  of  Crow  Indians — 
a  snow-storm — a  rousing  fire  and  a  buffalo 
least — a  plain  of  salt — climbing  a  mountain — 
volcanic  summit — extinguished  crater — marine 
shells — encampment  on  a  prairie— successful 
hunting  —  good  cheer  —  romantic  scenery — 
rocky  defile — foaming  rapids — the  fiery  nar- 
rows  405 

CHAPTER   XLIX. 

Wintry  storms — a  halt  and  council — cantonment 
for  the  winter — fine  hunting  country — game  of 
the  .mountains  and  plains — successful  hunting 
— Mr.  Crooks  and  a  grizzly  bear  —  the  wig- 
wam— bighorn  and  blacktails — beef  and  veni- 
son— good  quarters  and  good  cheer — an  alarm 
— an  intrusion — unwelcome  guests — desolation 
of  the  larder— gormandizing  exploits  of  hun- 
gry savages — good  quarters  abandoned,  .  .  406 

CHAPTER   L. 

Rough  wintry  travelling — hills  and  plains — snow 
and  ice — disappearance  of  game — a  vast  dreary 
plain — a  second  halt  for  the  winter — another 
wigwam — New  Year's  feast — buffalo  humps, 
tongues,  and  marrow  bones — return  of  spring 
— launch,  of  canoes — bad  navigation — pedes- 
trian march — vast  prairies — deserted  camps — 
Pawnee  squaws — an  Otto  Indian — news  of  war 
— voyage  down  the  Platte  and  the  Missouri — 
reception  at  FortOsage — arrival  at  St.  Louis,  409 

CHAPTER   LI. 

Agreement  between  Mr.  Astor  and  the  Russian 
Fur  Company — war  between  the  United  States 
and  Great  Britian — instructions  to  Captain 
Sowle  of  the  Beaver — fitting  out  of  the  Lark — 
news  of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Stuart,  .  .  .  411 

CHAPTER    LII. 

Banks  of  the  Wallah-Wallah  —  departure  of 
David  Stuart  for  the  Oakinagan — Mr.  Clarke's 
route  up  Lewis  River — Chipunnish,  or  Pierced- 
nose  Indians— their  character,  appearance,  and 
habits — thievish  habits — laying  up  of  the  boats 
— post  at  Pointed  Heart  and  Spokan  Rivers — 
M'Kenzie,  his  route  up  the  Camoenum — bands 
of  travelling  Indians — expedition  of  Reed  to 
the  caches — adventures  of  wandering  voya- 
geurs  and  trappers,  .  ....  412 

CHAPTER   LIII. 

Depaiture  of  Mr.  Hunt  in  the  Beaver — precau- 
tions at  the  factory — detachment  to  the  Walla- 
mut  —  gloomy  apprehensions  —  arrival  of 
M'Kenzie — affairs  at  Shahaptan — news  of  war 
— dismay  of  M'Dougal  —  determination  to 
Abandon  Astoria — departure  of  M'Kenzie  for 
the  interior — adventure  at  the  rapids — visit  to 
the  ruffians  of  Wish-ram — a  perilous  situation — 
meeting  with  M'Tavish  and  his  party — arrival 
at  the  Shahaptan — plundered  caches — deter- 
mination of  the  wintering  partners  not  to  leave 
the  country — arrival  of  Clarke  among  the  Nez 
Percfes — the  affair  of  the  silver  goblet — hang- 


ing  of   an    Indian — arrival   of   the  wintering 
partners  at  Astoria 414 

CHAPTER   LIV. 

The  partners  displeased  with  M'Dougal — equivo- 
cal conduct  of  that  gentleman — partners  agree 
to  abandon  Astoria — sale  of  goods  to  M'Tavish 
— arrangements  for  the  year — manifesto  signed 
by  the  partners — departure  of  M'Tavish  for  the 
interior, 417 

CHAPTER   LV. 

Anxieties  of  Mr.  Astor — memorial  of  the  North- 
west Company — tidings  of  a  British  naval  ex- 
pedition agaist  Astoria — Mr.  Astor  applies  to 
government  for  protection — the  frigate  Adams 
ordered  to  be  fitted  out — bright  news  from  As- 
toria— sunshine  suddenly  overclouded,  .  .  418 

CHAPTER   LVI. 

Affairs  of  state  at  Astoria — M'Dougal  proposes 
for  the  hand  of  an  Indian  princess — matri- 
monial embassy  to  Comcomly — matrimonial 
notions  among  the  Chinooks — settlements  and 
pin-money — the  bringing  home  of  the  bride — a 
managing  father-in-law — arrival  of  Mr.  Hunt 
at  Astoria,  .  419 

.   CHAPTER   LVII. 

Voyage  of  the  Beaver  to  New  Archangel — a  Rus- 
sian governor — roystering  rule — the  tyranny 
of  the  table — hard  drinking  bargains — voyage 
to  Kamschatka — seal-catching  establishment 
at  St.  Paul's — storms  at  sea — Mr.  Hunt  left  at 
the  Sandwich  Islands — transactions  of  the 
Beaver  at  Canton — return  of  Mr.  Hunt  to  As- 
toria,   420 

CHAPTER   LVIII. 

Arrangements  among  the  partners — Mr.  Hunt 
sails  in  the  Albatross — arrives  at  the  Marquesas 
— news  of  the  frigate  Phoebe — Mr.  Hunt  pro- 
ceeds to  the  Sandwich  Islands — voyage  of  the 
Lark — her  shipwreck — transactions  with  the 
natives  of  the  Sandwich  Islands — conduct  of 
Tamaahmaah,  .......  422 

CHAPTER   LIX. 

Arrival  of  M'Tavish  at  Astoria — conduct  of  his 
followers  —  negotiations  of  M'Dougal  and 
M'Tavish — bargain  for  the  transfer  of  Astoria 
— doubts  entertained  of  the  loyalty  of  M'Dou- 
gal,  424 

CHAPTER   LX. 

Arrival  of  a  strange  sail — agitation  at  Astoria — 
warlike  offer  of  Comcomly — Astoria  taken 
possession  of  by  the  British — indignation  of 
Comcomly  at  the  conduct  of  his  son-in-law,  425 

CHAPTER   LXI. 

Arrival  of  the  brig  Pedler  at  Astoria — breaking 
up  of  the  establishment — departure  of  several 
of  the  company — tragical  story  told  by  the 
squaw  of  Pierre  Dorion — fate  of  Reed  and  his 
companions— attempts  of  Mr.  Astor  to  renew 
his  enterprise  —  disappointment — concluding 
observations  and  reflections 427 


APPENDIX. 
Draught  of  a  petition  to  Congress,  sent  by  Mr. 

Astor  in  1812, 43° 

Letter  from  Mr.  Gallatin  to  Mr.  Astor,       .         .  430 
Notices  of  the  present   state  of  the  Fur  Trade, 

chiefly  extracted  from  an  article  published  in 

Silliman's  Journal  for  January,  1834,        .        .  431 
Height  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  .         .         .  433 

Suggestions  with  respect  to  the  Indian  tribes,  and 

the  protection  of  our  trade,        .        ,        .  433 


CONTENTS. 


A  TOUR  ON  THE  PRAIRIES. 


INTRODUCTION, 


PAGE 

437 


CHAPTER  I. 


The  Pawnee  hunting  grounds — travelling  compan- 
ions— a  commissioner — a  virtuoso— --a  seeker  of 
adventures — a  Gil  Bias  of  the  frontier — a  young 
man's  anticipations  of  pleasure,  .  .  .  437 

CHAPTER  II. 

Anticipations  disappointed — new  plans — prepara- 
tions to  join  an  exploring  party — departure  from 
Fort  Gibson — fording  of  the  Verdigris — an  Indian 
cavalier,  ........  438 

CHAPTER  III. 

An  Indian  agency — riflemen — Osages,  Creeks,  trap- 
pers, dogs,  horses,  half-breeds  —  Beatte,  the 


huntsman. 


The  departure, 


CHAPTER  IV. 


CHAPTER  V. 


439 


440 


Frontier  scenes — a  Lycurgus  of  the  border — Lynch's 
law — the  danger  of  finding  a  horse — the  young 
Osage, 44! 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Trail  of  the  Osage  hunters — departure  of  the  Count 
and  his  party — a  deserted  war  camp — a  vagrant 
dog — the  encampment, 442 

CHAPTER  VII. 

News  of  the  rangers — the  Count  and  his  Indian 
squire — halt  in  the  woods — woodland  scene — 
Osage  village — Osage  visitors  at  our  evening 
camP» 443 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


The  honey  camp, 


A  bee  hunt. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


445 


445 


CHAPTER  X. 

Amusements  in  the  camp — consultations — hunters' 
fare  and  feasting — evening  scenes — camp  melody 
— the  fate  of  an  amateur  owl,  ....  446 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Breaking  up  of  the  encampment — picturesque  march 
— game — camp  scenes — triumph  of  a  young  hunter 
— ill  success  of  an  old  hunter — foul  murder  of  a 
polecat, 448 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  crossing  of  the  Arkansas,         ....  450 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  camp  of  the  glen — camp  gossip — Pawnees  and 
their  habits— a  hunter's  adventure — horses  found 
and  men  lost, ,c0 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Deer  shooting — life  on  the  prairies — beautiful  en- 
campment— hunter's  luck — anecdotes  of  the  Del- 
awares  and  their  superstitions,  .  .  .  452 


CHAPTER  XV.  FAGE 

The  search  for  the  elk — Pawnee  stories,          .        .454 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  sick  camp — the  march — the  disabled  horse— old 
Ryan  and  the  stragglers — symptoms  of  change  of 
weather  and  change  of  humors,  ...  456 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Thunder-storm  on  the  prairies — the  storm  encamp- 
ment— night  scene — Indian  stories — a  frightened 
horse,  .  . 457 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  grand  prairie — Cliff  Castle— buffalo  tracks — deer 
hunted  by  wolves — Cross  Timber,  .  .  .  458 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Hunters'  anticipations — the  rugged  ford — a  wild 
horse, 459 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  camp  of  the  wild  horse — hunters'  stories — habits 
of  the  wild  horse— the  half-breed  and  his  prize — a 
horse  chase — a  wild  spirit  tamed,  .  .  .  461 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  fording  of  the  Red  Fork — the  dreary  forests  of 
the  "Cross  Timber  "—buffalo!  .  .  .462 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


The  alarm  camp, 


463 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Beaver  dam — buffalo  and  horse  tracks — a  Pawnee 
trail — wild  horses — the  young  hunter  and  the  bear 
— change  of  route, 


465 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


Scarcity  of  bread — rencontre  with  buffaloes — wild 
turkeys — fall  of  a  buffalo  bull,  .  .  .  467 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Ringing  the  wild  horse,  .....  467 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Fording  of  the  North  Fork — dreary  scenery  of  the 
Cross  Timber — scamper  of  horses  in  the  night — 
Osage  war  party — effects  of  a  peace  harangue — 
buffalo — wild  horse,  .  .  ....  469 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Foul  weather  encampment — anecdotes  of  bear  hunt- 
ing— Indian  notions  about  omens — scruples  re- 
specting the  dead,  ....*.  470 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
A  secret  expedition — deer  bleating — magic  balls,     .  472 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  grand  prairie — a  buffalo  hunt,          ...  473 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  comrade  lost — a  search  for  the  camp — the  com- 
missioner, the  wild  horse,  and  the  buffalo — a  wolf 
serenade, 476 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXXI.  PAGE 

A  hunt  for  a  lost  comrade, 477 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
A  republic  of  prairie  dogs,  .  478 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A  council  in  the  camp — reasons  for  facing  home- 
ward— horses  lost — departure  with  a  detachment 


on  the  homeward  route — swamp — wild  horse — 
camp  scenes  by  night — the  owl,  harbinger  of  dawn,  479 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Old  Creek  encampment — scarcity  of  provisions — 
bad  weather — weary  marching — a  hunter's  bridge,  481 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  look-out  for  land — hard  travelling  and  hungry 
halting — a  frontier  farmhouse — arrival  at  the  gar- 
rison,  482 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


HISTORICAL  NOTICE,    ......  485 

Arrival  at  the  Abbey,     ......  487 

The  Abbey  Garden,       ......  489 

Plough  Monday,     .        .        .        .        .        •        .491 

Old  Servants,         .......  492 

Superstitions  of  the  Abbey,  .        •        .        .  493 


Annesley  Hall, 495 

The  Lake, 501 

Robin  Hood  and  Sherwood  Forest,        .        .         .  501 

The  Rook  Cell 504 

The  Little  White  Lady, 505 


ABBOTSFORD. 


ABBOTSFORD, 


PAGE 

•  513 


PREFACE. 


BEING  at  Bordeaux,  in  the  winter  of  1825-6,  I 
received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Alexander  Everett, 
Minister  Plenipotentiary  of  the  United  States  at 
Madrid,  informing  me  of  a  work  then  in  the  press, 
edited  by  Don  Martin  Fernandez  de  Navarrete, 
Secretary  of  the  Royal  Academy  of  History,  etc., 
etc.,  containing  a  collection  of  documents  relative 
to  the  voyages  of  Columbus,  among  which  were 
many  of  a  highly  important  nature,  recently  dis- 
covered. Mr.  Everett,  at  the  same  time,  expressed 
an  opinion  that  a  version  of  the  work  into  English, 
by  one  of  our  own  country,  would  be  peculiarly 
desirable.  I  concurred  with  him  in  the  opinion  ; 
and,  having  for  some  time  intended  a  visit  to 
Madrid,  I  shortly  afterward  set  off  for  that  capital, 
with  an  idea  of  undertaking,  while  there,  the 
translation  of  the  work. 

Soon  after  my  arrival,  the  publication  of  M. 
Navarrete  made  its  appearance.  I  found  it  to 
contain  many  documents,  hitherto  unknown, 
which  threw  additional  lights  on  the  discovery  of 
the  New  World,  and  which  reflected  the  greatest 
credit  on  the  industry  and  activity  of  the  learned 
editor. '  Still  the  whole  presented  rather  a  mass 
of  rich  materials  for  history,  than  a  history  itself. 
And  invaluable  as  such  stores  may  be  to  the  labo- 
rious inquirer,  the  sight  of  disconnected  papers 
and  official  documents  is  apt  to  be  repulsive  to  the 
general  reader,  who  seeks  for  clear  and  continued 
narrative.  These  circumstances  made  me  hesi- 
tate in  my  proposed  undertaking  ;  yet  the  subject 
was  of  so  interesting  and  national  a  kind,  that  I 
could  not  willingly  abandon  it. 

On  considering  the  matter  more  maturely,  I 
perceived  that,  although  there  were  many  books, 
in  various  languages,  relative  to  Columbus,  they 
all  contained  limited  and  incomplete  accounts  of 
his  life  and  voyages  ;  while  numerous  valuable 
tracts  on  the  subject  existed  only  in  manuscript  or 
in  the  form  of  letters,  journals,  and  public  muni- 
ments. It  appeared  to  me  that  a  history,  faithfully 
digested  from  these  various  materials,  was  a  de- 
sideratum in  literature,  and  would  be  a  more  sat- 
isfactory occupation  to  myself,  and  a  more  accept- 
able work  to  my  country,  than  the  translation  I 
had  contemplated. 

I  was  encouraged  to  undertake  such  a  work,  by 
the  great  facilities  which  I  found  within  my  reach 
at  Madrid.  I  was  resident  under  the  roof  of  the 

Irving'*  Life  of  Columbus.  (  3  ) 


American  Consul,  O.  Rich,  Esq.,  one  of  the  most 
indefatigable  bibliographers  in  Europe,  who,  for 
several  years,  had  made  particular  researches 
after  every  document  relative  to  the  early  history 
of  America.  In  his  extensive  and  curious  library, 
I  found  one  of  the  best  collections  extant  of  Span- 
ish colonial  history,  containing  many  documents 
for  which  I  might  search  elsewhere  in  vain.  This 
he  put  at  my  absolute  command,  with  a  frankness 
and  unreserve  seldom  to  be  met  with  among  the 
possessors  of  such  rare  and  valuable  works  ;  and 
his  library  has  been  my  main  resource  throughout 
the  whole  of  my  labors. 

I  found  also  the  Royal  Library  of  Madrid,  and 
the  library  of  the  Jesuits'  College  of  San  Isidro, 
two  noble  and  extensive  collections,  open  to  ac- 
cess, and  conducted  with  great  order  and  liber- 
ality. From  Don  Martin  Fernandez  de  Navarrete, 
who  communicated  various  valuable  and  curious 
pieces  of  information,  discovered  in  the  course 
of  his  researches,  I  received  the  most  obliging 
assistance  ;  nor  can  I  refrain  from  testifying  my 
admiration  of  the  self-sustained  zeal  of  that  es- 
timable man,  one  of  the  last  veterans  of  Spanish 
literature,  who  is  almost  alone,  yet  indefatigable 
in  his  labors,  in  a  country  where,  at  present,  liter- 
ary exertion  meets  with  but  little  excitement  or 
reward. 

I  must  acknowledge,  also,  the  liberality  of  the 
Duke  of  Veraguas,  the  descendant  and  represent- 
ative of  Columbus,  who  submitted  the  archives  of 
his  family  to  my  inspection,  and  took  a  personal 
interest  in  exhibiting  the  treasures  they  contained. 
Nor,  lastly,  must  I  omit  my  deep  obligations  to 
my  excellent  friend  Don  Antonio  de  Uguina, 
treasurer  of  the  Prince  Francisco,  a  gentleman  of 
talents  and  erudition,  and  particularly  versed  in 
the  history  of  his  country  and  its  dependencies. 
To  his  unwearied  investigations,  and  silent  and 
unavowed  contributions,  the  world  is  indebted  for 
much  of  the  accurate  information,  recently  im- 
parted, on  points  of  early  colonial  history.  In  the 
possession  of  this  gentleman  are  most  of  the  f- 
papers  of  his  deceased  friend,  the  late  historian 
Mufios,  who  was  cut  off  in  the  midst  of  his  val- 
uable labors.  These,  and  various  other  docu- 
ments, have  been  imparted  to  me  by  Don  Antonio, 
with  a  kindness  and  urbanity  which  greatly  ia» 
creased,  yet  lightened  the  obligation. 


PREFACE. 


With  these,  and  other  aids  incidentally  afforded 
me  by  my  local  situation,  I  have  endeavored,  to 
the  best  of  my  abilities,  and  making  the  most  of 
the  time  which  I  could  allow  myself  during  a  so- 
journ in  a  foreign  country,  to  construct  this  his- 
tory. I  have  diligently  collated  all  the  works  that 
I  could  find  relative  to  my  subject,  in  print  and 
manuscript  ;  comparing  them,  as  far  as  in  my 
power,  with  original  documents,  those  sure  lights 
of  historic  research  ;  endeavoring  to  ascertain  the 
truth  amid  those  contradictions  which  will  inevi- 
tably occur,  where  several  persons  have  recorded 
the  same  facts,  viewing  them  from  different  points, 
and  under  the  influence  of  different  interests  and 
feelings. 

In  the  execution  of  this  work  I  have  avoided  in- 
dulging in  mere  speculations  or  general  reflec- 
tions, excepting  such  as  rose  naturally  out  of  the 
subject,  preferring  to  give  a  minute  and  circum- 
stantial narrative,  omitting  no  particular  that 
appeared  characteristic  of  the  persons,  the  events, 
or  the  times  ;  and  endeavoring  to  place  every  fact 
in  such  a  point  of  view,  that  the  reader  might 
perceive  its  merits,  and  draw  his  own  maxims 
and  conclusions. 

As  many  points  of  the  history  required  explana- 
tions, drawn  from  contemporary  events  and  the 
literature  of  the  times,  I  have  preferred,  instead 
of  incumbering  the  narrative,  to  give  detached 
illustrations  at  the  end  of  the  work.  This  also 
enabled  me  to  indulge  in  greater  latitude  of  de- 
tail, where  the  subject  was  of  a  curious  or  in- 
teresting nature,  and  the  sources  of  information 
such  as  not  to  be  within  the  common  course  of 
reading. 

After  all,  the  work  is  presented  to  the  public 
with  extreme  diffidence.  All  that  I  can  safely 
claim  »s.  an  earnest  desire  to  state  the  truth,  an 
absence  from  prejudices  respecting  the  nations 
mentioned  in  my  history,  a  strong  interest  in  my 
subject,  and  a  zeal  to  make  up  by  assiduity  for 
many  deficiencies  of  which  I  am  conscious. 

WASHINGTON  IRVING. 
•  Madrid,   1827. 

P.S. — I  have  been  surprised  at  finding  myself 
accused  by  some  American  writer  of  not  giving 
sufficient  credit  to  Don  Martin  Fernandez  de 
Navarrete  for  the  aid  I  had  derived  from  his  col- 
lection of  documents.  I  had  thought  I  had 
sufficiently  shown,  in  the  preceding  preface,  which 
appeared  with  my  first  edition,  that  his  collection 
first  prompted  my  work  and  subsequently  fur- 
nished its  principal  materials  ;  and  that  I  had 
illustrated  this  by  citations  at  the  foot  of  almost 
every  page.  In  preparing  this  revised  edition,  I 
have  carefully  and  conscientiously  examined  into 
the  matter,  but  find  nothing  to  add  to  the  ac- 
knowledgments already  made. 

To  show  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  M. 
Navarrete  himself  with  respect  to  my  work  and 


myself,  I  subjoin  an  extract  from  a  letter  received 
from  that  excellent  man,  and  a  passage  from  the 
introduction  to  the  third  volume  of  his  collection. 
Nothing  but  the  desire  to  vindicate  myself  on  this' 
head  would  induce  me  to  publish  extracts  so 
laudatory. 

From  a  letter  dated  Madrid,  April  \st,  1831. 

I  congratulate  myself  that  the  documents  and 
notices  which  I  published  in  my  collection  about 
the  first  occurrences  in  the  history  of  America, 
have  fallen  into  hands  so  able  to  appreciate  their 
authenticity,  to  examine  them  critically,  and  to 
circulate  them  in  all  directions  ;  establishing 
fundamental  truths  which  hitherto  have  been 
adulterated  by  partial  or  systematic  writers. 

Yo  me  complazeo  en  que  los  documentos  y 
noticias  que  publico  en  mi  coleccion  sobre  los 
primeros  acontecimientos  de  la  historia  de 
America,  hayan  recaido  en  manos  tan  habiles 
para  apreciar  su  autenticidad,  para  examinar  las 
con  critica  y  propagarlas  por  todos  partes 
echando  los  fundamentos  de  la  verdad  que  hasta 
ahora  ha  sido  tan  adulterada  par  los  escri  tores 
parciales  6  sistematicos. 

In  the  introduction  to  the  third  volume  of  his 
Collection  of  Spanish  Voyages,  Mr.  Navarrete 
cites  various  testimonials  he  has  received  since 
the  publication  of  his  two  first  volumes  of  the 
utility  of  his  work  to  the  republic  of  letters. 

"  A  signal  proof  of  this,"  he  continues,  "  is  just 
given  us  by  Mr.  Washington  Irving  in  the  History 
of  the  Life  and  Voyages  of  Christopher  Columbus, 
which  he  has  published  with  a  success  as  general 
as  it  is  well  merited.  We  said  in  our  introduc- 
tion that  we  did  not  propose  to  write  the  history 
of  the  admiral,  but  to  publish  notes  and  materials 
that  it  might  be  written  with  veracity  ;  and  it  is 
fortunate  that  the  first  person  to  profit  by  them 
should  be  a  literary  man,  judicious  and  erudite, 
already  known  in  his  own  country  and  in  Europe 
by  other  works  of  merit.  Resident  in  Madrid, 
exempt  from  the  rivalries  which  have  influenced 
some  European  natives  with  respect  to  Columbus 
and  his  discoveries  ;  having  an  opportunity  to 
examine  excellent  books  and  precious  manu- 
scripts ;  to  converse  with  persons  instructed  in 
these  matters,  and  having  always  at  hand  the 
authentic  documents  which  we  had  just  published, 
he  has  been  enabled  to  give  to  his  history  that 
fulness,  impartiality,  and  exactness,  which  make 
it  much  superior  to  those  of  the  writers  who  pre- 
ceded him.  To  this  he  adds  his  regular  method, 
and  convenient  distribution  ;  his  style  animated, 
pure,  and  elegant  ;  the  notice  of  various  person- 
ages who  mingled  in  the  concerns  of  Columbus  ; 
and  the  examination  of  various  questions,  in 
which  always  shine  sound  criticism,  erudition, 
and  good  taste." 


PREFACE. 


Insigne  prueba  de  esto  mismo  acaba  de  darnos 
el  Sefior  Washington  Irving  en  la  Historia  de  la 
Vida  y  de  los  Viages  de  Cristobal  Colon  que  ha 
publicado  con  una  aceptacion  tan  general  como 
bien  merecida.  Diginos  en  nuestra  introduccion 
(i  §  56  pag.  Ixxxii.)  que  no  nos  proponiamos 
escribir  la  historia  de  aqual  almirante,  sino  pub- 
licar  noticias  y  materiales  para  que  se  escribiese 
con  veracidad,  y  es  una  fortuna  que  el  primero 
que  se  haya  aprovechado  de  ellas  sea  un  literato 
juicioso  y  erudito,  conocido  ya  en  su  patria  y  en 
Europa  por  ptras  obras  apreciables.  Colocado 
en  Madrid,  exento  de  las  rivalidades  que  han  dom- 
inado  entre  algunas  naciones  Europeas  sobre 


Colon  y  sus  descubrimientos  ;  con  la  proporcion 
de  examinar  excelentes  libros  y  preciosos  manu- 
scritos,  de  tratar  a  personas  instruidas  en  estas 
materias,  y  teniendo  siempre  a  la  mano  los 
autenticos  documentos  que  acabamos  de  publicar, 
ha  logrado  dar  a  su  historia  aquella  extension 
imparcialidad  y  exactitud  que  la  hacen  muy 
superior  &  las  de  los  escritores  que  le  precedieron. 
Agre"gase  a  esto  sumetodico  arregloy  conveniente 
distribucion  ;  su  estilo  animado,  puro  y  elegante  ; 
la  noticia  de  varies  personages  que  intervenieron 
en  los  sucesos  de  Colon,  y  el  examen  de  varias 
cuestiones  en  que  luce  siempre  la  mas  sana  critica, 
la  erudicion  y  buen  gusto. — Prologo  al  lomo  3°. 


THE 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES 


OF 


CHRISTOPHER   COLUMBUS 


Venient  annis 

Saecula  sens,  quibus,  Oceanus 
Vincula  rerum  laxet,  et  ingens 
Pateat  tellus,  Typhisque  novos 
Detegat  Orbcs,  nee  sit  terris 
Ultima  Thule. 

SENECA:  Medea. 


AUTHOR'S     REVISED     EDITION. 


BOOK   I. 


WHETHER  in  old  times,  beyond  the  reach  of  his- 
tory or  tradition,  and  in  some  remote  period  of 
civilization,  when,  as  some  imagine,  the  arts  may 
have  flourished  to  a  degree  unknown  to  those 
whom  we  term  the  Ancients,  there  existed  an  in- 
tercourse between  the  opposite  shores  of  the  At- 
lantic ;  whether  the  Egyptian  legend,  narrated  by 
Plato,  respecting  the  island  of  Atalantis  was  in- 
deed no  fable,  but  the  obscure  tradition  of  some 
vast  country,  engulfed  by  one  of  those  mighty 
convulsions  of  our  globe,  which  have  left  traces 
of  the  ocean  on  the  summits  of  lofty  mountains, 
must  ever  remain  matters  of  vague  and  visionary 
speculation.  As  far  as  authenticated  history  ex- 
tends, nothing  was  known  of  terra  firma,  and  the 
islands  of  the  western  hemisphere,  until  their  dis- 
covery toward  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  A 
wandering  bark  may  occasionally  have  lost  sight 
of  the  landmarks  of  the  old  continents,  and  been 
driven  by  tempests  across  the  wilderness  of 
waters  long  before  the  invention  of  the  compass, 
but  never  returned  to  reveal  the  secrets  of  the 
ocean.  And  though,  from  time  to  time,  some 
document  has  floated  to  the  shores  of  the  old 
world,  giving  to  its  wondering  inhabitants  evi- 
dences of  land  far  beyond  their  watery  horizon  ; 
vet  no  one  ventured  to  spread  a  sail,  and  seek  that 
land  enveloped  in  mystery  and  peril.  Or  if  the 
legends  of  the  Scandinavian  voyagers  be  correct, 
and  their  mysterious  Vinland  was  the  coast  of 
Labrador,  or  the  shore  of  Newfoundland,  they  had 
but  transient  glimpses  of  the  new  world,  leading 
to  no  certain  or  permanent  knowledge,  and  in  a 
little  time  lost  again  to  mankind.*  Certain  it  is 
that  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
when  the  most  intelligent  minds  were  seeking  in 
every  direction  for  the  scattered  lights  of  geo- 


*  See  illustrations  in  Appendix  at  the  end  of  this 
work,  article  "  Scandinavian  Discoveries." 


graphical  knowledge,  a  profound  ignorance  pre- 
vailed among  the  learned  as  to  the  western  re- 
gions of  the  Atlantic  ;  its  vast  waters  were  re- 
garded with  awe  and  wonder,  seeming  to  bound 
the  world  as  with  a  chaos,  into  which  conjecture 
could  not  penetrate,  and  enterprise  feared  to  ad- 
venture. We  need  no  greater  proofs  of  this  than 
the  description  given  of  the  Atlantic  by  Xerif  al 
Edrisi,  surnamed  the  Nubian,  an  eminent  Ara- 
bian writer,  whose  countrymen  were  the  boldest 
navigators  of  the  middle  ages,  and  possessed  all 
that  was  then  known  of  geography. 

"The  ocean,"  he  observes,  "  encircles  the  ul- 
timate bounds  of  the  inhabited  earth,  and  all  be- 
yond it  is  unknown.  No  one  has  been  able  to 
verify  anything  concerning  it,  on  account  of  its 
difficult  and  perilous  navigation,  its  great  obscu- 
rity, its  profound  depth,  and  frequent  tempests  ; 
through  fear  of  its  mighty  fishes,  and  its  haughty 
winds  ;  yet  there  are  many  islands  in  it,  some 
peopled,  others  uninhabited.  There  is  no  mar- 
iner who  dares  to  enter  into  its  deep  waters  ;  or 
if  any  have  done  so,  they  have  merely  kept  along 
its  coasts,  fearful  of  departing  from  them.  The 
waves  of  this  ocean,  although  they  roll  as  high  as 
mountains,  yet  maintain  themselves  without 
breaking  ;  for  if  they  broke,  it  would  be  impossi- 
ble for  ship  to  plough  them."* 

It  is  the  object  of  the  following  work,  to  relate 
the  deeds  and  fortunes  of  the  mariner  who  first 
had  the  judgment  to  divine,  and  the  intrepidity  to 
brave  the  mysteries  of  this  perilous  deep  ;  and  who, 
by  his  hardy  genius,  his  inflexible  constancy,  and 
his  heroic  courage,  brought  the  ends  of  the  earth 
into  communication  with  each  other.  The  nar- 
rative of  his  troubled  life  is  the  link  which  connects 
the  history  of  the  old  world  with  that  of  the  new. 


*  Description  of  Spain,  by  Xerif  al  Edrisi  :  Conde's 
Spanish  translation.     Madrid,  1799. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH,    PARENTAGE,    AND    EARLY    LIFE    OF 
COLUMBUS. 

CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS,  of  Colombo,  as  the 
name  is  written  in  Italian,*  was  born  in  the  city 
of  Genoa,  about  the  year  1435.  He  was  the  son 
of  Dominico  Colombo,  a  wool  comber,  and  Su- 
sannah Fontanarossa,  his  wife,  and  it  would  seem 
that  his  ancestor  had  followed  the  same  handi- 
craft for  several  generations  in  Genoa.  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  prove  him  of  illustrious  de- 
scent, and  several  noble  houses  have  laid  claim 
to  him  since  his  name  has  become  so  renowned 
as  to  confer  rather  than  receive  distinction.  It  is 
possible  some  of  them  may  be  in  the  right,  for 
the  feuds  in  Italy  in  those  ages  had  broken  down 
and  scattered  many  of  the  noblest  families,  and 
while  some  branches  remained  in  the  lordly  her- 
itage of  castles  and  domains,  others  were  con- 
founded with  the  humblest  population  of  the  cit- 
ies. The  fact,  however,  is  not  material  to  his 
fame  ;  and  it  is  a  higher  proof  of  merit  to  be  the 
object  of  contention  among  various  noble  fami- 
lies, than  to  be  able  to  substantiate  the  most  illus- 
trious lineage.  His  son  Fernando  had  a  true 
feeling  on  the  subject.  "  I  am  of  opinion,"  says 
he,  "  that  I  should  derive  less  dignity  from  any 
nobility  of  ancestry,  than  from  being  the  son  of 
such  a  father."! 

Columbus  was  the  oldest  of  four  children  ;  hav- 
ing two  brothers,  Bartholomew  and  Giacomo,  or 
James  (written  Diego  in  Spanish),  and  one  sister, 
of  whom  nothing  is  known  but  that  she  was  mar- 
ried to  a  person  in  obscure  life  called  Giacomo 
Bavarello.  At  a  very  early  age  Columbus  evinced 
a  decided  inclination  for  the  sea  ;  his  education, 
therefore,  was  mainly  directed  to  fit  him  for  mar- 
itime life,  but  was  as  general  as  the  narrow 
means  of  his  father  would  permit.  Besides  the 
ordinary  branches  of  reading,  writing,  grammar, 
and  arithmetic,  he  was  instructed  in  the  Latin 
tongue,  and  made  some  proficiency  in  drawing 
and  design.  For  a  short  time,  also,  he  was  sent 
to  the  university  of  Pavia,  where  he  studied  ge- 
ometry, geography,  astronomy,  and  navigation. 
He  then  returned  to  Genoa,  where,  according  to 
a  contemporary  historian,  he  assisted  his  father 
in  his  trade  of  wool  combing.  J  This  assertion  is 
indignantly  contradicted  by  his  son  Fernando, 
though  there  is  nothing  in  it  improbable,  and  he 
gives  us  no  information  of  his  father's  occupation'' 
to  supply  its  place.  He  could  not,  however,  have 
remained  long  in  this  employment,  as,  according 
to  his  own  account,  he  entered  upon  a  nautical 
life  when  but  fourteen  years  of  age.g 


*  Columbus  latinized  his  name  in  his  letters  accord- 
ing to  the  usage  of  the  time,  when  Latin  was  the 
language  of  learned  correspondence.  In  subsequent 
life  when  in  Spain  he  recurred  to  what  was  supposed 
to  be  the  original  Roman  name  of  the  family,  Colo- 
nus,  which  he  abbreviated  to  Colon,  to  adapt  it  to  the 
Castilian  tongue.  Hence  he  is  known  in  Spanish  his- 
tory as  Christoval  Colon.  In  the  present  work  the 
name  will  be  written  Columbus,  being  the  one  by 
which  he  is  most  known  throughout  the  world. 

f  The  reader  will  find  the  vexed  questions  about 
the  age,  birthplace,  and  lineage  of  Columbus  severally 
discussed  in  the  Appendix. 

t  Agostino  Giustiniani,  Ann.  de  Geneva.  His 
assertion  has  been  echoed  by  other  historians,  viz., 
Anton  Gallo  de  Navigatione  Colombi,  etc.,  Muratori, 
torn,  xxiii.  ;  Barta  Senaraga,  de  rebus  Genuensibus, 
Muratori,  torn.  24. 

§  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  4. 


.  In  tracing  the  early  history  of  a  man  like  Co- 
lumbus, whose  actions  have  had  a  vast  effect  on 
human  affairs,  it  is  interesting  to  notice  how 
much  has  been  owing  to  external  influences,  how 
much  to  an  inborn  propensity  of  the  genius.  In 
the  latter  part  of  his  life,  when,  impressed  with 
the  sublime  events  brought  about  through  his 
agency,  Columbus  looked  back  upon  his  career 
with  a  solemn  and  superstitious  feeling,  he  attrib- 
uted his  early  and  irresistible  inclination  for  the 
sea,  and  his  passion  for  geographical  studies,  to 
an  impulse  from  the  Deity  preparing  him  for  the 
high  decrees  he  was  choosen  to  accomplish.* 

The  nautical  propensity,  however,  evinced  by 
Columbus  in  early  life,  is  common  to  boys  of  en- 
terprising spirit  and  lively  imagination  brought 
up  in  maritime  cities  ;  to  whom  the  sea  is  the 
high  road  to  adventure  and  the  region  of  ro- 
mance. Genoa,  too,  walled  in  and  straitened  on 
the  land  side  by  rugged  mountains,  yielded  but 
little  scope  for  enterprise  on  shore,  while  an  opu- 
lent and  widely  extended  commerce,  visiting 
every  country,  and  a  roving  marine,  battling  in 
every  sea,  naturally  led  forth  her  children  upon 
the  waves,  as  their  propitious  element.  Many, 
too,  were  induced  to  emigrate  by  the  violent  fac- 
tions which  raged  within  the  bosom  of  the  city, 
and  often  dyed  its  streets  with  blood.  A  histori- 
an of  Genoa  laments  this  proneness  of  its  youth 
to  wander.  They  go,  said  he,  with  the  intention 
of  returning  when  they  shall  have  acquired  the 
means  of  living  comfortably  and  honorably  in 
their  native  place  ;  but  we  know  from  long  expe- 
rience, that  of  twenty  who  thus  depart  scarce  two 
return  :  either  dying  abroad,  or  taking  to  them- 
selves foreign  wives,  or  being  loath  to  expose  them- 
selves to  the  tempest  of  civil  discords  which  dis- 
tract the  republic.! 

The  strong  passion  for  geographical  knowledge, 
also,  felt  by  Columbus  in  early  life,  and  which  in- 
spired his  after  career,  was  incident  to  the  age  in 
which  he  lived.  Geographical  discovery  was  the 
brilliant  path  of  light  which  was  forever  to  dis- 
tinguish the  fifteenth  century.  During  a  long 
night  of  monkish  bigotry  and  false  learning,  geo- 
graphy, with  the  other  sciences,  had  been  lost  to 
the  European  nations.  Fortunately  it  had  not 
been  lost  to  mankind  :  it  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
bosom  of  Africa.  While  the  pedantic  schoolmen 
of  the  cloisters  were  wasting  time  and  talent,  and 
confounding  erudition  by  idle  reveries  and  sophist- 
ical dialectics,  the  Arabian  sages,  assembled  at 
Senaar,  were  taking  the  measurement  of  a  degree 
of  latitude,  and  calculating  the  circumference  of 
the  earth,  on  the  vast  plains  of  Mesopotamia. 

True  knowledge,  thus  happily  preserved,  was 
now  making  its  way  back  to  Europe.  The  revi- 
val of  science  accompanied  the  revival  of  letters. 
Among  the  various  authors  which  the  awakening 
zeal  for  ancient  literature  had  once  more  brought 
into  notice,  were  Pliny,  Pomponius  Mela,  and 
Strabo.  From  these  was  regained  a  fund  of  geo- 
graphical knowledge,  which  had  long  faded  from 
the  public  mind.  Curiosity  was  aroused  to  pur- 
sue this  forgotten  path,  thus  suddenly  reopened. 
A  translation  of  the  work  of  Ptolemy  had  been 
made  into  Latin,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
century,  by  Emanuel  Chrysoleras,  a  noble  and 
learned  Greek,  and  had  thus  been  rendered  more 
familiar  to  the  Italian  students.  Another  transla- 
tion had  followed,  by  James  Angel  de  Scarpiaria, 
of  which  fair  and  beautiful  copies  became  com- 


*  Letter  to  the  Castilian  Sovereigns,  1501. 
f  Foglieta,  Istoria  de  Geneva,  lib.  ii. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


9 


mon  in  the  Italian  libraries.*  The  writings  also 
began  to  be  sought  after  of  Averroes,  Alfraganus, 
and  other  Arabian  sages,  who  had  kept  the  sacred 
fire  of  science  alive,  during  the  interval  of  Euro- 
pean darkness. 

The  knowledge  thus  reviving  was  limited  and 
imperfect  ;  yet,  like  the  return  of  morning  light, 
it  seemed  to  call  a  new  creation  into  existence, 
and  broke,  with  all  the  charm  of  wonder,  upon 
imaginative  minds.  They  were  surprised  at 
their  own  ignorance  of  the  world  around  them. 
Every  step  was  discovery,  for  every  region  beyond 
their  native  country  was  in  a  manner  terra  incog- 
nita. 

Such  was  the  state  of  information  and  feeling 
with  respect  to  this  interesting  science,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  fifteenth  century.  An  interest 
still  more  intense  was  awakened  by  the  discover- 
ies which  began  to  be  made  along  the  Atlantic 
coasts  of  Africa  ;  and  must  have  been  particularly 
felt  among  a  maritime  and  commercial  people 
like  the  Genoese.  To  these  circumstances  may 
we  ascribe  the  enthusiastic  devotion  which  Co- 
lumbus imbibed  in  his  childhood  for  cosmograph- 
ical  studies,  and  which  influenced  all  his  after 
fortunes. 

The  short  time  passed  by  him  at  the  university 
of  Pavia  was  barely  sufficient  to  give  him  the  ru- 
diments of  the  necessary  sciences  ;  the  familiar 
acquaintance  with  them,  which  he  evinced  in 
after  life,  must  have  been  the  result  of  diligent 
self-schooling,  in  casual  hours  of  study  amid  the 
cares  and  vicissitudes  of  a  rugged  and  wandering 
life.  He  was  one  of  those  men  of  strong  natural 
genius,  who,  from  having  to  contend  at  their  very 
outset  with  privations  and  impediments,  acquire 
an  intrepidity  in  encountering  and  a  facility  in 
vanquishing  difficulties,  throughout  their  career. 
Such  men  learn  to  effect  great  purposes  with 
small  means,  supplying  this  deficiency  by  the  re- 
sources of  their  own  energy  and  invention.  This, 
from  his  earliest  commencement,  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  life,  was  one  of  the  remarkable 
features  in  the  history  of  Columbus.  In  every 
undertaking,  the  scantiness  and  apparent  insuffi- 
ciency of  his  means  enhance  the  grandeur  of  his 
achievements. 


CHAPTER  II. 

EARLY  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 

COLUiMBUS,  as  has  been  observed,  commenced 
his  nautical  career  when  about  fourteen  years  of 
age.  His  first  voyages  were  made  with  a  distant 
relative  named  Colombo,  a  hardy  veteran  of  the 
seas,  who  had  risen  to  some  distinction  by  his 
bravery,  and  is  occasionally  mentioned  in  old 
chronicles  ;  sometimes  as  commanding  a  squad- 
ron of  his  own,  sometimes  as  an  admiral  in  the 
Genoese  service.  He  appears  to  have  been  bold 
and  adventurous  ;  ready  to  fight  in  any  cause, 
and  to  seek  quarrel  wherever  it  might  lawfully  be 
found. 

The  seafaring  life  of  the  Mediterranean  in  those 
days  was  hazardous  and  daring.  A  commercial 
expedition  resembled  a  warlike  cruise,  and  the 
maritime  merchant  had  often  to  fight  his  way 
from  port  to  port.  Piracy  was  almost  legalized. 
The  frequent  feuds  between  the  Italian  states  ; 
the  cruisings  of  the  Catalonians  ;  the  armadas 
fitted  out  by  private  noblemen,  who  exercised  a 


*  Andres,  Hist.  B.  Let.,  lib.  iii.  cap.  2. 


kind  of  sovereignty  in  their  own  domains,   ancj 
kept  petty  armies  and  navies  in  their  pay  ;    the 
roving   ships    and    squadrons   of   private    adven- 
turers,   a  kind  of  naval  Condottieri,    sometimes 
employed    by    hostile    governments,    sometimes 
scouring   the   seas   in  search  of  lawless   booty  ; 
these,  with  the  holy  wars  waged  against  the  Ma-  * 
hometan  powers,    rendered  the  narrow  seas,    to  ' 
which  navigation  was  principally  confined,  scenes 
of  hardy  encounters  and  trying  reverses. 

Such  was  the  rugged  school  in  which  Columbus 
was  reared,  and  it  would  have  been  deeply  inter- 
esting to  have  marked  the  early  development  of 
his  genius  amid  its  stern  adversities.  All  this 
instructive  era  of  his  history,  however,  is  covered 
with  darkness.  His  son  Fernando,  who  could 
have  best  elucidated  it,  has  left  it  in  obscurity,  or 
has  now  and  then  perplexed  us  with  cross  lights  ; 
perhaps  unwilling,  from  a  principle  of  mistaken 
pride,  to  reveal  the  indigence  and  obscurity  from 
which  his  father  so  gloriously  emerged. 

The  first  voyage  in  which  we  have  any  account 
of  his  being  engaged  was  a  naval  expedition, 
fitted  out  in  Genoa  in  1459  by  Jonn  oi  Anjou, 
Duke  of  Calabria,  to  make  a  descent  upon 
Naples,  in  the  hope  of  recovering  that  king- 
dom for  his  father  King  Reinier,  or  Renato, 
otherwise  called  Rene",  Count  of  Provence.  The 
republic  of  Genoa  aided  him  with  ships  and 
money.  The  brilliant  nature  of  the  enterprise  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  daring  and  restless  spirits. 
The  chivalrous  nobleman,  the  soldier  of  fortune, 
the  hardy  corsair,  the  desperate  adventurer,  the 
mercenary  partisan,  all  hastened  to  enlist  under 
the  banner  of  Anjou.  The  veteran  Colombo  took 
a  part  in  this  expedition,  either  with  galleys  of  his 
own,  or  as  a  commander  of  the  Genoese  squadron, 
and  with  him  embarked  his  youthful  relative,  the 
future  discoverer. 

The  struggle  of  John  of  Anjou  for  the  crown  of 
Naples  lasted  about  four  years,  with  varied  for- 
tune, but  was  finally  unsuccessful.  The  naval 
part  of  the  expedition,  in  which  Columbus  was 
engaged,  signalized  itself  by  acts  of  intrepidity  ; 
and  at  one  time,  when  the  duke  was  reduced  to 
take  refuge  in  the  island  of  Ischia,  a  handful  of 
galleys  scoured  and  controlled  the  bay  of  Naples.* 

In  the  course  of  this  gallant  but  ill-fated  enter- 
prise, Columbus  was  detached  on  a  perilous 
cruise,  to  cut  out  a  galley  from  the  harbor  of 
Tunis.  This  is  incidentally  mentioned  by  himself 
in  a  letter  written  many  years  afterward.  It  hap- 
pened to  me,  he  says,  that  King  Reinier  (whom 
God  has  taken  to  himself)  sent  me  to  Tunis,  to 
capture  the  galley  Fernandina,  and  when  I  ar- 
rived off  the  island  of  St.  Pedro,  in  Sardinia,  I  was 
informed  that  there  were  two  ships  and  a  carrack 
with  the  galley  ;  by  which  intelligence  my  crew 
were  so  troubled  that  they  determined  to  proceed 
no  further,  but  to  return  to  Marseilles  for  another 
vessel  and  more  people  ;  as  I  could  not  by  any 
means  compel  them,  I  assented  apparently  to 
their  wishes,  altering  the  point  of  the  compass  and 
spreading  all  sail.  It  was  then  evening,  and  next 
morning  we  were  within  the  Cape  of  Carthagena, 
while  all  were  firmly  of  opinion  that  they  were 
sailing  toward  Marseilles.! 

We  have  no  further  record  of  this  bold  cruise 
into  the  harbor  of  Tunis  ;  but  in  the  foregoing 
particulars  we  behold  early  indications  of  that 
resolute  and  persevering  spirit  which  insured  him 


*  Colenuccio,  Istoria  de  Nap.  lib.  vii.  cap.  17. 
f  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Catholic  sovereigns, 
vide  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  4. 


10 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


success  in  his  more  important  undertakings.  His 
expedient  to  beguile  a  discontented  crew  into  a 
continuation  of  the  enterprise,  by  deceiving  them 
with  respect  to  the  ship's  course,  will  be  found  in 
unison  with  a  stratagem  of  altering  the  reckoning, 

» to  which  he  had  recourse  in  his  first  voyage  of 

.  discovery. 

During  an  interval  of  many  years  we  have  but 
one  or  two  shadowy  traces  of  Columbus.  He  is 
supposed  to  have  been  principally  engaged  on  the 
Mediterranean  and  up  the  Levant  ;  sometimes  in 
commercial  voyages  ;  sometimes  in  the  warlike 
contests  between  the  Italian  states  ;  sometimes  in 
pious  and  predatory  expeditions  against  the  Infi- 
dels. Historians  have  made  him  in  1474  captain 
of  several  Genoese  ships,  in  the  service  of  Louis 
XI.  of  France,  and  endangering  the  peace  between 
that  country  and  Spain  by  running  down  and 
capturing  Spanish  vessels  at  sea,  on  his  own  re- 
sponsibility, as  a  reprisal  for  an  irruption  of  the 
Spaniards  into  Roussillon.*  Again,  in  1475,  he 
is  represented  as  brushing  with  his  Genoese 
squadron  in  ruffling  bravado  by  a  Venetian  fleet 
stationed  off  the  island  of  Cyprus,  shouting  "  Viva 
San  Georgio  !"  the  old  war-cry  of  Genoa,  thus 
endeavoring  to  pique  the  jealous  pride  of  the 
Venetians  and  provoke  a  combat,  though  the  rival 
republics  were  at  peace  at  the  time. 

These  transactions,  however,  have  been  errone- 
ously attributed  to  Columbus.  They  were  the 
deeds,  or  misdeeds,  either  of  his  relative  the  old 
Genoese  admiral,  or  of  a  nephew  of  the  same,  of 
kindred  spirit,  called  Colombo  the  Younger,  to 
distinguish  him  from  his  uncle.  They  both  ap- 
pear to  have  been  fond  of  rough  encounters,  and 
not  very  scrupulous  as  to  the  mode  of  bringing  them 
about.  Fernando  Columbus  describes  this  Colombo 
the  Younger  as  a  famous  corsair,  so  terrible  for  his 
deeds  against  the  Infidels,  that  the  Moorish  mothers 
used  to  frighten  their  unruly  children  with  his 
name.  Columbus  sailed  with  him  occasionally, 
as  he  had  done  with  his  uncle,  and,  according  to 
Fernando's  account,  commanded  a  vessel  in  his 
squadron  on  an  eventful  occasion. 

Colombo  the  Younger,  having  heard  that  four 
Venetian  galleys  richly  laden  were  on  their  return 
voyage  from  Flanders,  laid  in  wait  for  them  on 
the  Portuguese  coast,  between  Lisbon  and  Cape 
St.  Vincent.  A  desperate  engagement  took 
place  ;  the  vessels  grappled  each  other,  and  the 
crews  fought  hand  to  hand,  and  from  ship  to  ship. 
The  battle  lasted  from  morning  until  evening, 
with  great  carnage  on  both  sides.  The  vessel 
commanded  by  Columbus  was  engaged  with  a 
huge  Venetian  galley.  They  threw  hand-gre- 
nades and  other  fiery  missiles,  and  the  galley  was 
wrapped  in  flames.  The  vessels  were  fastened 
together  by  chains  and  grappling  irons,  and  could 
not  be  separated  ;  both  were  involved  in  one  con- 
flagration, and  soon  became  a  mere  blazing  mass. 
The  crews  threw  themselves  into  the  sea  ;  Colum- 
bus seized  an  oar,  which  was  floating  within 
reach,  and  being  an  expert  swimmer,  attained  the 
shore,  though  full  two  leagues  distant.  It  pleased 
God,  says  his  son  Fernando,  to  give  him  strength, 
that  he  might  preserve  him  for  greater  things. 
After  recovering  from  his  exhaustion  he  repaired  to 
Lisbon,  where  he  found  many  of  his  Genoese  coun- 
trymen, and  was  induced  to  take  up  his  residence.! 


*  Chaufepie  Suppl.  to  Bayle,  vol.  ii.  ;  article 
"  Columbus." 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  5.  See  Illustrations  at 
the  end  of  this  work,  article  "  Capture  of  the  Vene- 
tian Galleys." 


Such  is  the  account  given  by  Fernando  of  his 
father's  first  arrival  in  Portugal  ;  and  it  has  been 
currently  adopted  by  modern  historians  ;  but  on 
examining  various  histories  of  the  times,  the  bat- 
tle here  described  appears  to  have  happened  sev- 
eral years  after  the  date  of  the  arrival  of  Columbus 
in  that  country.  That  he  was  engaged  in  the  con- 
test is  not  improbable  ;  but  he  had  previously  re- 
sided for  some  time  in  Portugal.  In  fact,  on  re- 
ferring to  the  history  of  that  kingdom,  we  shall 
find,  in  the  great  maritime  enterprises  in  which  it 
was  at  that  time  engaged,  ample  attractions  for  a 
person  of  his  inclinations  and  pursuits  ;  and  we 
shall  be  led  to  conclude,  that  his  first  visit  to  Lis- 
bon was  not  the  fortuitous  result  of  a  desperate 
adventure,  but  was  undertaken  in  a  .spirit  of  lib- 
eral curiosity,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  honorable 
fortune. 


CHAPTER   III. 

PROGRESS   OF  DISCOVERY   UNDER   PRINCE  HENRY 
OF   PORTUGAL. 

THE  career,  of  modern  discovery  had  com- 
menced shortly  before  the  time  of  Columbus,  and 
at  the  period  of  which  we  are  treating  was  prose- 
cuted with  great  activity  by  Portugal.  Some  have 
attributed  its  origin  to  a  romantic  incident  in  the 
fourteenth  century.  An  Englishman  of  the  name 
of  Macham,  flying  to  France  with  a  lady  of  whom 
he  was  enamored,  was  driven  far  out  of  sight  of 
land  by  stress  of  weather,  and  after  wandering 
about  the  high  seas,  arrived  at  an  unknown  and 
uninhabited  island,  covered  with  beautiful  forests, 
which  was  afterward  called  Madeira.*  Others 
have  treated  this  account  as  a  fable,  and  have 
pronounced  the  Canaries  to  be  the  first  fruits  of 
modern  discovery.  This  famous  group,  the  For- 
tunate Islands  of  the  ancients,  in  which  they 
placed  theirgarden  of  the  Hesperides,  and  whence 
Ptolemy  commenced  to  count  the  longitude,  had 
been  long  lost  to  the  world.  There  are  vague  ac- 
counts, it  is  true,  of  *heir  having  received  casual 
visits,  at  wide  intervals,  during  the  obscure  ages, 
from  the  wandering  bark  of  some  Arabian,  Nor- 
man, or  Genoese  adventurer  ;  but  all  this  was  in- 
volved in  uncertainty,  and  led  to  no  beneficial  re- 
sult. It  was  not  until  the  fourteenth  century  that 
they  were  effectually  rediscovered,  and  restored 
to  mankind.  From  that  time  they  were  occasion- 
ally visited  by  the  hardy  navigators  of  various 
countries.  The  greatest  benefit  produced  by  their 
discovery  was,  that  the  frequent  expeditions  made 
to  them  emboldened  mariners  to  venture  far  upon 
the  Atlantic,  and  familiarized  them,  in  some  de- 
gree, to  its  dangers. 

The  grand  impulse  to  discovery  was  not  given 
by  chance,  but  was  the  deeply  meditated  effort  of 
one  master  mind.  This  was  Prince  Henry  of 
Portugal,  son  of  John  the  First,  surnamed  the 
Avenger,  and  Philippa,  of  Lancaster,  sister  of 
Henry  the  Fourth  of  England.  The  character  of 
this  illustrious  man,  from  whose  enterprises  the 
genius  of  Columbus  took  excitement,  deserves  par- 
ticular mention. 

Having  accompanied  his  father  into  Africa,  in 
an  expedition  against  the  Moors  at  Ceuta  he  re- 
ceived much  information  concerning  the  coast  of 
Guinea,  and  other  regions  in  the  interior,  hitherto 
unknown  to  Europeans,  and  conceived  an  idea 


*  See    illustrations,    article     "  Discovery  of    Ma- 
deira." 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


11 


that  important  discoveries  were  to  be  made  by 
navigating  along  the  western  coast  of  Africa.  On 
returning  to  Portugal,  this  idea  became  his  ruling 
thought.  Withdrawing  from  the  tumult  of  a  court 
to  a  country  retreat  in  the  Algarves,  near  Sagres, 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Cape  St.  Vincent,  and  in 
full  view  of  the  ocean,  he  drew  around  him  men 
eminent  in  science,  and  prosecuted  the  study  of 
those  branches  of  knowledge  connected  with  the 
maritime  arts.  He  was  an  able  mathematician, 
and  made  himself  master  of  all  the  astronomy 
known  to  the  Arabians  of  Spain. 

On  studying  the  works  of  the  ancients,  he  found 
what  he  considered  abundant  proofs  that  Africa 
was  circumnavigable.  Eudoxus  of  Cyzicus  was 
said  to  have  sailed  from  the  Red  Sea  into  the 
ocean,  and  to  have  continued  on  to  Gibraltar  ; 
and  Hanno  the  Carthaginian,  sailing  from  Gibral- 
tar with  a  fleet  of  sixty  ships,  and  following  the 
African  coast,  was  said  to  have  reached  the 
shores  of  Arabia.*  It  is  true  these  voyages  had 
been  discredited  by  several  ancient  writers,  and 
the  possibility  of  circumnavigating  Africa,  after 
being  for  .a  long  time  admitted  by  geographers, 
was  denied  by  Hipparchus,  who  considered  each 
sea  shut  up  and  land-bound  in  its  peculiar  basin  ; 
and  that  Africa  was  a  continent  continuing  onward 
to  the  south  pole,  and  surrounding  the  Indian  Sea, 
so  as  to  join  Asia  beyond  the  Ganges.  This  opin- 
ion had  been  adopted  by  Ptolemy,  whose  works, 
in  the  time  of  Prince  Henry,  were  the  highest  au- 
thority in  geography.  The  prince,  however,  clung 
to  the  ancient  belief,  that  Africa  was  circumnavi- 
gable, and  found  his  opinion  sanctioned  by  vari- 
ous learned  men  of  more  modern  date.  To  settle 
this  question,  and  achieve  the  circumnavigation 
of  Africa,  was  an  object  worthy  the  ambition  of  a 
prince,  and  his  mind  was  fired  with  the  idea  of 
the  vast  benefits  that  would  arise  to  his  country 
should  it  be  accomplished  by  Portuguese  enter- 
prise. 

The  Italians,  or  Lombards,  as  they  were  called 
in  the  north  of  Europe,  had  long  monopolized  the 
trade  of  Asia.  They  had  formed  commercial  es- 
tablishments at  Constantinople  and  in  the  Black 
Sea,  where  they  received  the  rich  produce  of  the 
Spice  Islands,  lying  near  the  equator  ;  and  the 
silks,  the  gums,  the  perfumes,  the  precious  stones, 
and  other  luxurious  commodities  of  Egypt  and 
southern  Asia,  and  distributed  them  over  the 
whole  of  Europe.  The  republics  of  Venice  and 
Genoa  rose  to  opulence  and  power  in  consequence 
of  this  trade.  They  had  factories  in  the  most  re- 
mote parts,  even  in  the  frozen  regions  of  Moscovy 
and  Norway.  Their  merchants  emulated  the 
magnificence  of  princes.  All  Europe  was  tribu- 
tary to  their  commerce.  Yet  this  trade  had  to 
pass  through  various  intermediate  hands,  subject 
to  the  delays  and  charges  of  internal  navigation, 
and  the  tedious  and  uncertain  journeys  of  the 
caravan.  For  a  long  time  the  merchandise  of 
India  was  conveyed  by  the  Gulf  of  Persia,  the  Eu- 
phrates, the  Indus,  and  the  Oxus,  to  the  Caspian 
and  the  Mediterranean  seas  ;  thence  to  take  a 
new  destination  for  the  various  marts  of  Europe. 
After  the  Soldan  of  Egypt  had  conquered  the 
Arabs,  and  restored  trade  to  its  ancient  channel, 
it  was  still  attended  with  great  cost  and  delay. 
Its  precious  commodities  had  to  be  conveyed  by 
the  Red  Sea  ;  thence  on  the  backs  of  camels  to 
the  banks  of  the  Nile,  whence  they  were  trans- 
ported to  Egypt  to  meet  the  Italian  merchants. 


*  See  illustrations,  article  "  Circumnavigation    of 
Africa  by  the  Ancients." 


Thus,  while  the  opulent  traffic  of  the  East  was  en- 
grossed by  these  adventurous  monopolists,  the 
price  of  every  article  was  enhanced  by  the  great 
expense  of  transportation. 

It  was  the  grand  idea  of  Prince  Henry,  by  cir- 
cumnavigating Africa  to  open  a  direct  and  easy 
route  to  the  source  of  this  commerce,  to  turn  it  in 
a  golden  tide  upon  his  country.  He  was,  how- 
ever, before  the  age  in  thought,  and  had  to  coun- 
teract ignorance  and  prejudice,  and  to  endure  the 
delays  to  which  vivid  and  penetrating  minds  are 
subjected,  from  the  tardy  co-operations  of  the  dull 
and  the  doubtful.  The  navigation  of  the  Atlantic 
was  yet  in  its  infancy.  Mariners  looked  with  dis- 
trust upon  a  boisterous  expanse,  which  appeared 
to  have  no  opposite  shore,  and  feared  to  venture 
out  of  sight  of  the  landmarks.  Every  bold  head- 
land, and  far-stretching  promontory  was  a  wall  to 
bar  their  progress.  They  crept  timorously  along 
the  Barbary  shores,  and  thought  they  had  accom- 
plished a  wonderful  expedition  when  they  had 
ventured  a  few  degrees  beyond  the  Straits  of  Gib- 
raltar. Cape  Non  was  long  the  limit  of  their  dar- 
ing ;  they  hesitated  to  double  its  rocky  point, 
beaten  by  winds  and  waves,  and  threatening  to 
thrust  them  forth  upon  the  raging  deep. 

Independent  of  these  vague  fears,  they  had 
others,  sanctioned  by  philosophy  itself.  They  still 
thought  that  the  earth,  at  the  equator,  was  girdled 
by  a  torrid  zone,  over  which  the  sun  held  his  ver- 
tical and  fiery  course,  separating  the  hemispheres 
by  a  region  of  impassive  heat.  They  fancied 
Cape  Bojador  the  utmost  boundary  of  secure  en- 
terprise, and  had  a  superstitious  belief  that  who- 
ever doubled  it  would  never  return.*  They 
looked  with  dismay  upon  the  rapid  currents  of  its 
neighborhood,  and  the  furious  surf  which  beats 
upon  its  arid  coast.  They  imagined  that  beyond 
it  lay  the  frightful  region  of  the  torrid  zone, 
scorched  by  a  blazing  sun  ;  a  region  of  fire,  where 
the  very  waves,  which  beat  upon  the  shores, 
boiled  under  the  intolerable  fervor  of  the  heavens. 

To  dispel  these  errors,  and  to  give  a  scope  to 
navigation,  equal  to  the  grandeur  of  his  designs, 
Prince  Henry  established  a  naval  college,  and 
erected  an  observatory  at  Sagres,  and  he  invited 
thither  the  most  eminent  professors  of  the  nautical 
faculties  ;  appointing  as  president  James  of  Mal- 
lorca,  a  man  learned  in  navigation,  and  skilful  in 
making  charts  and  instruments. 

The  effects  of  this  establishment  were  soon  ap- 
parent. All  that  was  known  relative  to  geogra- 
phy and  navigation  was  gathered  together  and 
reduced  to  system.  A  vast  improvement  took 
place  in  maps.  The  compass  was  also  brought 
into  more  general  use,  especially  among  the  Por- 
tuguese, rendering  the  mariner  more  bold  and 
venturous,  by  enabling  him  to  navigate  in  the 
most  gloomy  day  and  in  the  darkest  night.  En- 
couraged by  these  advantages,  and  stimulated  by 
the  munificence  of  Prince  Henry,  the  Portuguese 
marine  became  signalized  for  the  hardihood  of  its 
enterprises  and  the  extent  of  its  discoveries. 
Cape  Bojador  was  doubled  ;  the  region  of  the 
tropics  penetrated,  and  divested  of  its  fancied  ter- 
rors ;  the  greater  part  of  the  African  coast,  from 
Cape  Blanco  to  Cape  de  Verde,  explored  ;  and 
the  Cape  de  Verde  and  Azore  islands,  which  lay 
three  hundred  leagues  distant  from  the  continent, 
were  rescued  from  the  oblivious  empire  of  the 
ocean. 

To  secure  the  quiet  prosecution  and  full  enjoy- 
ment of  his  discoveries,  Henry  obtained  the  pro- 


*  Mariana,  Hist.  Esp.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  22. 


12 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


tection  of  a  papal  bull,  granting  to  the  crown  of 
Portugal  sovereign  authority  over  all  the  lands  it 
might  discover  in  the  Atlantic,  to  India  inclusive, 
with  plenary  indulgence  to  all  who  should  die  in 
these  expeditions  ;  at  the  same  time  menacing, 
with  the  terrors  of  the  church,  all  who  should 
interfere  in  these  Christian  conquests.* 

Henry  died  on  the  I3th  of  November,  1473, 
without  accomplishing  the  great  object  of  his  am- 
bition. It  was  not  until  many  years  afterward 
that  Vasco  de  Gama,  pursuing  with  a  Portuguese 
fleet  the  track  he  had  pointed  out,  realized  his 
anticipations  by  doubling  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
sailing  along  the  southern  coast  of  India,  and  thus 
opening  a  highway  for  commerce  to  the  opulent 
regions  of  the  East.  Henry,  however,  lived  long 
enough  to  reap  some  of  the  richest  rewards  of  a 
great  and  good  mind.  He  beheld,  through  his 
means,  his  native  country  in  a  grand  and  active 
career  of  prosperity.  The  discoveries  of  the  Por- 
tuguese were  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  and  Portugal,  from  being  one 
of  the  least  among  nations,  suddenly  rose  to  be 
one  of  the  most  important. 

All  this  was  effected,  not  by  arms,  but  by  arts  ; 
not  by  the  stratagems  of  a  cabinet,  but  by  the  wis- 
dom of  a  college.  It  was  the  great  achievement 
of  a  prince,  who  has  well  been  described  "  full  of 
thoughts  of  lofty  enterprise,  and  acts  of  generous 
spirit  :"  one  who  bore  for  his  device  the  mag- 
nanimous motto,  "  The  talent  to  do  good,"  the 
only  talent  worthy  the  ambition  of  princes. f 

Henry,  at  his  death,  left  it  in  charge  to  his 
country  to  prosecute  the  route  to  India.  He  had 
formed  companies  and  associations,  by  which 
commercial  zeal  was  enlisted  in  the  cause,  and  it 
was  made  a  matter  of  interest  and  competition  to 
enterprising  individuals.  J  From  time  to  time  Lis- 
bon was  thrown  into  a  tumult  of  excitement  by 
the  launching  forth  of  some  new  expedition,  or  the 
return  of  a  squadron  with  accounts  of  new  tracts 
explored  and  new  kingdoms  visited.  Everything 
was  confident  promise  and  sanguine  anticipation. 
The  miserable  hordes  of  the  African  coast  were 
magnified  into  powerful  nations,  and  the  voyagers 
continually  heard  of  opulent  countries  farther  on. 
It  was  ae  yet  the  twilight  of  geographic  knowl- 
edge ;  imagination  went  hand  in  hand  with  dis- 
covery, and  as  the  latter  groped  its  slow  and  cau- 
tious way,  the  former  peopled  all  beyond  with 
wonders.  The  fame  of  the  Portuguese  discover- 
ies, and  of  the  expeditions  continually  setting  out, 
drew  the  attention  of  the  world.  Strangers  from 
all  parts,  Uie  learned,  the  curious,  and  the  adven- 
turous, resorted  to  Lisbon  to  inquire  into  the  par- 
ticulars or  to  participate  in  the  advantages  of 
these  enterprises.  Among  these  was  Christopher 
Columbus,  whether  thrown  there,  as  has  been  as- 
serted, by  the  fortuitous  result  of  a  desperate  ad- 
venture, or  drawn  thither  by  liberal  curiosity  and 
the  pursuit  of  honorable  fortune. g 


CHAPTER    IV. 

RESIDENCE     OF     COLUMBUS      AT      LISBON — IDEAS 
CONCERNING   ISLANDS   IN  THE  OCEAN. 

COLUMBUS  arrived  at  Lisbon  about  the  year 
1470.  He  was  at  that  time  in  the  full  vigor  of 
manhood,  and  of  an  engaging  presence.  Minute 

*  Vasconcelos,  Hist,  de  Juan  II. 

f  Joam  de  Barros,  Asia,  decad.  i. 

I  Lafitau,  Conquetes  des  Portugais,  torn.  i.  lib.  i. 

§  Herrcra,  decad.  i.  lib.  i. 


descriptions  are  given  of  his  person  by  his  son 
Fernando,  by  Las  Casas,  and  others  of  his  con- 
temporaries.* According  to  these  accounts,  he 
was  tall,  well-formed,  muscular,  and  of  an  ele- 
vated and  dignified  demeanor.  His  visage  was 
long,  and  neither  full  nor  meagre  ;  his  complexion 
fair  and  freckled  and  inclined  to  ruddy  ;  his  nose 
aquiline  ;  his  cheek-bones  were  rather  high,  his  • 
eyes  light  gray,  and  apt  to  enkindle  ;  his  whole 
countenance  had  an  air  of  authority.  His  hair, 
in  his  youthful  days,  was  of  a  light  color  ;  but 
care  and  trouble,  according  to  Las  Casas,  soon 
turned  it  gray,  and  at  thirty  years  of  age  it  was 
quite  white.  He  was  moderate  and  simple  in  diet 
and  apparel,  eloquent  in  discourse,  engaging  and 
affable  with  strangers,  and  his  amiableness  and 
suavity  in  domestic  life  strongly  attached  his 
household  to  his  person.  His  temper  was  natu- 
rally irritable  ;  f  but  he  subdued  it  by  the  mag- 
nanimity of  his  spirit,  comporting  himself  with  a 
courteous  and  gentle  gravity,  and  never  indulging 
in  any  intemperance  of  language.  Throughout 
his  life  he  was  noted  for  strict  attention  to  the 
offices  of  religion,  observing  rigorously  the  fasts 
and  ceremonies  of  the  church  ;  nor  did  his  piety 
consist  in  mere  forms,  but  partook  of  that  lofty 
and  solemn  enthusiasm  with  which  his  whole 
character  was  strongly  tinctured. 

While  at  Lisbon,  he  was  accustomed  to  attend 
religious  service  at  the  chapel  of  the  convent  of 
All  Saints.  In  this  convent  were  certain  ladies 
of  rank,  either  resident  as  boarders,  or  in  some 
religious  capacity.  With  one  of  these,  Columbus 
became  acquainted.  She  was  Dona  Felipa, 
daughter  of  Bartolomeo  Mofiis  de  Perestrello,  an 
Italian  cavalier,  lately  deceased,  who  had  been 
one  of  the  most  distinguished  navigators  under 
Prince  Henry,  and  had  colonized  and  governed 
the  island  of  Porto  Santo.  The  acquaintance  soon 
ripened  into  attachment,  and  ended  in  marriage. 
It  appears  to  have  been  a  match  of  mere  affection, 
as  the  lady  was  destitute  of  fortune. 

The  newly  married  couple  resided  with  the 
mother  of  the  bride.  The  latter,  perceiving  the 
interest  which  Columbus  took  in  all  matters  con- 
cerning the  sea,  related  to  him  all  she  knew  of  the 
voyages  and  expeditions  of  her  late  husband,  and 
brought  him  all  his  papers,  charts,  journals,  and 
memorandums.  J  In-  this  way  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  routes  of  the  Portuguese,  their 
plans  and  conceptions  ;  and  having,  by  his  mar- 
riage and  residence^  become  naturalized  in  Por- 
tugal, he  sailed  occasionally  in  the  expeditions  to 
the  coast  of  Guinea.  When  on  shore,  he  support- 
ed his  family  by  making  maps  and  charts.  Hi? 
narrow  circumstances  obliged  him  to  obse/ve  a 
strict  economy  ;  yet  we  are  told  that  he  appropri- 
ated a  part  of  his  scanty  means  to  the  succor  of 
his  aged  father  at  Genoa, \  and  to  the  education 
of  his  younger  brothers. || 

The  construction  of  a  correct  map  or  chart,  in 
those  days,  required  a  degree  of  knowledge  and 
experience  sufficient  to  entitle  the  possessor  to 
distinction.  Geography  was  but  just  emerging 
from  the  darkness  which  had  enveloped  it  for 
ages.  Ptolemy  was  still  a  standard  authority. 
The  maps  of  the  fifteenth  century  display  a  mix- 
ture of  truth  and  error,  in  which  facts  handed 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,   cap.   3.     Las  Casas,   Hist. 
Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  2,  MS. 

f  Illescas,  Hist.  Pontifical,  lib.  vi. 

\  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  ii.  cap.  2. 

S  Ibid. 

[  Mufioz  Hist,  del,  N.  Mundo  V1- .  ii. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


13 


down  from  antiquity,  and  others  revealed  by  re- 
cent discoveries,  are  confused  with  popular  fables 
and  extravagant  conjectures.  At  such  a  period, 
when  the  passion  for  maritime  discovery  was  seek- 
ing every  aid  to  facilitate  its  enterprises,  the 
knowledge  and  skill  of  an  able  cosmographer  like 
Columbus  would  be  properly  appreciated,  and 
the  superior  correctness  of  his  maps  and  charts 
would  give  him  notoriety  among  men  of  science.* 
We  accordingly  find  him,  at  an  early  period  of  his 
residence  in  Lisbon,  in  correspondence  with  Paulo 
Toscanelli,  of  Florence,  one  of  the  most  scientific 
men  of  the  day,  whose  communications  had  great 
influence  in  inspiriting  him  to  his  subsequent  un- 
dertakings. 

While  his  geographical  labors  thus  elevated  him 
to  a  communion  with  the  learned,  they  were  pe- 
culiarly calculated  to  foster  a  train  of  thoughts 
favorable  to  nautical  enterprise.  From  constantly 
comparing'  maps  and  charts,  and  noting  the  prog- 
ress and  direction  of  discovery,  he  was  led  to  per- 
ceive how  much  of  the  world  remained  unknown, 
and  to  meditate  on  the  means  of  exploring  it. 
His  domestic  concerns,  and  the  connections  he 
had  formed  by  marriage,  were  all  in  unison  with 
this  vein  of  speculation.  He  resided  for  some 
time  at  the  recently  discovered  island  of  1'orto 
Santo,  where  his  wife  had  inherited  some  prop- 
erty, and  during  his  residence  there  she  bore  him 
a  son,  whom  he  named  Diego.  This  residence 
brought  him,  as  it  were,  on  the  very  frontier  of 
discovery.  His  wife's  sister  was  married  to  Pedro 
Correo,  a  navigator  of  note,  who  had  at  one  time 
been  governor  of  Porto  Santo.  Being  frequently 
together  in  the  familiar  intercourse  of  domestic 
lite,  their  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  the 
discoveries  prosecuting  in  their  vicinity  along  the 
African  coasts  ;  upon  the  long  sought  for  route 
to  India  ;  and  upon  the  possibility  of  some  un- 
known lands  existing  in  the  west. 

In  their  island'  residence,  too,  they  must  have 
been  frequently  visited  by  the  voyagers  going  to 
and  from  Guinea.  Living  thus,  surrounded  by 
the  stir  and  bustle  of  discovery,  communing  with 
persons  who  ha:l  risen  by  it  to  fortune  and  honor, 
and  voyaging  in  the  very  tracks  of  its  recent  tri- 
umphs, the  ardent  mind  of  Columbus  kindled  up  to 
enthusiasm  in  the  cause.  It  was  a  period  of  gen- 
eral excitement  to  all  who  were  connected  with 
maritime  life,  or  who  resided  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
ocean.  The  recent  discoveries  had  inflamed  their 
imaginations,  and  had  filled  them  with  visions  of 
other  islands,  of  greater  wealth  and  beauty,  yet 
to  be  discovered  in  the  boundless  wastes  of  the 
Atlantic.  The  opinions  and  fancies  of  the  an- 


*  The  importance  which  began  to  be  attached  to 
cosmqgraphical  knowledge  is  evident  from  the  dis- 
tinction which  Mauro,  an  Italian  friar,  obtained  from 
having  projected  an  universal  map,  esteemed  the  most 
accurate  of  the  time.  A  fac-simile  of  this  map,  upon 
the  same  scale  as  the  original,  is  now  deposited  in  the 
British  Museum,  and  it  has  been  published,  with  a 
geographical  commentary,  by  the  learned  Zurla.  The 
Venetians  struck  a  medal  in  honor  of  him,  on  which 
they  denominated  him  Cosmographus  incomparabilis 
(Colline  del  Bussol.  Naut.  p.  2,  c.  5).  Yet  Ramusio, 
who  had  seen  this  map  in  the  monastery  of  San 
Michele  de  Murano,  considers  it  merely  an  improved 
copy  of  a  map  brought  from  Cathay  by  Marco  Polo 
(Ramusio,  t.  ii.  p.  17,  Ed.  Venet.  1606).  We  are  told 
that  Americus  Vespucius  paid  one  hundred  and  thirty 
ducats  (equivalent  to  five  hundred  and  fifty-five  dol- 
lars in  our  time)  for  a  map  of  sea  and  land,  made  at 
Mallorca,  in  1439,  by  Gabriel  de  Valseca  (Barros,  D. 
L  i.  c.  15.  Derroto  por  Tofino,  Introd.  p.  25). 


cients  on  the  subject  were  again  put  in  circula- 
tion. The  story  of  Antilla,  a  great  island  in  the 
ocean,  discovered  by  the  Carthaginians,  was  fre- 
quently cited,  and  Plato's  imaginary  Atalantis  once 
more  found  firm  believers.  Many  thought  that 
the  Canaries  and  Azores  were  but  wrecks  which 
had  survived  its  submersion,  and  that  other  and 
larger  fragments  of  that  drowned  land  might  yet 
exist,  in  remoter  parts  of  the  Atlantic. 

One  of  the  strongest  symptoms  of  the  excited 
state  of  the  popular  mind  at  this  eventful  era,  was 
the  prevalence  of  rumors  respecting  unknown 
islands  casually  seen  in  the  ocean.  Many  of  these 
were  mere  fables,  fabricated  to  feed  the  predomi- 
nant humor  of  the  public  ;  many  had  their  origin 
in  the  heated  imaginations  of  voyagers,  beholding 
islands  in  those  summer  clouds  which  lie  along 
the  horizon,  and  often  beguile  the  sailor  with  the 
idea  of  distant  lands. 

On  such  airy  basis,  most  probably,  was  founded 
the  story  told  to  Columbus  by  one  Antonio  Leone, 
an  inhabitant  of  Madeira,  who  affirmed  that  sail- 
ing thence  westward  one  hundred  leagues,  he  had 
seen  three  islands  at  a  distance.  But  the  tales  of 
the  kind  most  positively  advanced  and  zealously 
maintained,  were  those  related  by  the  people  of 
the  Canaries,  who  were  long  under  a  singular 
optical  delusion.  They  imagined  that,  from  time 
to  time,  they  beheld  a  vast  island  to  the  westward, 
with  lofty  mountains  and  deep  valleys.  Nor  was 
it  seen  in  cloudy  and  dubious  weather,  but  in 
those  clear  days  common  to  tropical  climates,  and 
with  all  the  distinctness  with  which  distant  objects 
may  be  discerned  in  their  pure,  transparent  at- 
mosphere. The  island,  it  is  true,  was  only  seen 
at  intervals  ;  while  at  other  times,  and  in  the 
clearest  weather,  not  a  vestige  of  it  was  to  be  de- 
scried. When  it  did  appear,  however,  it  was 
always  in  the  same  place,  and  under  the  same 
form.  So  persuaded  were  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Canaries  of  its  reality,  that  application  was  made 
to  the  King  of  Portugal  for  permission  to  discover 
and  take  possession  of  it  ;  and  it  actually  became 
the  object  of  several  expeditions.  The  island, 
however,  was  never  to  be  found,  though  it  still 
continued  occasionally  to  cheat  the  eye.  There 
were  all  kinds  of  wild  and  fantastic  notions  con- 
cerning this  imaginary  land.  Some  supposed  it 
to  be  the  Antilla  mentioned  by  Aristotle  ;  others, 
the  Island  of  Seven  Cities,  so  called  from  an  an- 
cient legend  of  seven  bishops,  who,  with  a  multi- 
tude of  followers,  fled  from  Spain  at  the  time  of  its 
conquest  by  the  Moors,  and,  guided  by  Heaven  to 
some  unknown  island  in  the  ocean,  founded  on  it 
seven  splendid  cities.  While  some  considered  it 
another  legendary  island,  on  which,  it  was  said, 
a  Scottish  priest  of  the  name  of  St.  Brandan  had 
landed,  in  the  sixth  century.  This  last  legend 
passed  into  current  belief.  The  fancied  island 
was  called  by  the  name  of  St.  Brandan,  or  St. 
Borondon,  and  long  continued  to  be  actually  laid 
down  in  maps  far  to  the  west  of  the  Canaries.* 
The  same  was  done  with  the  fabulous  island  of 
Antilla  ;  and  these  erroneous  maps  and  phantom 
islands  have  given  rise  at  various  times  to  asser- 
tions that  the  New  World  had  been  known  prior 
to  the  period  of  its  generally  reputed  discovery. 

Columbus,  however,  considers  all  these  appear- 
ances of  land  as  mere  illusions.  He  supposes  that 
they  may  have  been  caused  by  rocks  lying  in  the 
ocean,  which,  seen  at  a  distance,  under  certain 
atmospherical  influences,  may  have  assumed  the 
appearance  of  islands  ;  or  that  they  may  have 


*  See  illustrations,  article  "  Island  of  St.  Brandan." 


14 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES    OF   COLUMBUS. 


been  floating  islands,  such  as  are  mentioned  by 
Pliny  and  Seneca  and  others,  formed  of  twisted 
roots,  or  of  a  light  and  porous  stone,  and  covered 
with  trees,  and  which  may  have  been  driven  about 
the  ocean  by  the  winds. 

i  The  islands  of  St.  Brandan,  of  Antilla,  and  of  the 
Seven  Cities,  have  long  since  proved  to  be  fabu- 
lous tales  or  atmospherical  delusions.  Yet  the 
rumors  concerning  them  derive  interest,  from 
showing  the  state  of  public  thought  with  respect 
to  the  Atlantic,  while  its  western  regions  were  yet 
unknown.  They  were  all  noted  down  with  curi- 
ous care  by  Columbus,  and  may  have  had  some 
influence  over  his  imagination.  Still,  though  of  a 
visionary  spirit,  his  penetrating  genius  sought  in 
deeper  sources  for  the  aliment  of  its  meditations. 
Aroused  by  the  impulse  of  passing  events,  he 
turned  anew,  says  his  son  Fernando,  to  study  the 
geographical  authors  which  he  had  read  before, 
and  to  consider  the  astronomical  reasons  which 
might  corroborate  the  theory  gradually  forming 
in  his  mind.  He  made  himself  acquainted  with 
all  that  had  been  written  by  the  ancients,  or  dis- 
covered by  the  moderns,  relative  to  geography. 
His  own  voyages  enabled  him  to  correct  many  of 
their  errors,  and  appreciate  many  of  their  theo- 
ries. His  genius  having  thus  taken  its  decided 
bent,  it  is  interesting  to  notice  from  what  a  mass 
of  acknowledged  facts,  rational  hypotheses,  fanci- 
ful narrations,  and  popular  rumors,  his  grand 
project  of  discovery  was  wrought  out  by  the  strong 
workings  of  his  vigorous  mind. 


CHAPTER   V. 

GROUNDS  ON  WHICH  COLUMBUS  FOUNDED  HIS 
BELIEF  OF  THE  EXISTENCE  OF  UNDISCOVERED 
LANDS  IN  THE  WEST. 

IT  has  been  attempted,  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ters, to  show  how  Columbus  was  gradually  kin- 
dled up  to  his  grand  design  by  the  spirit  and 
events  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  His  son 
Fernando,  however,  undertakes  to  furnish  the 
precise  data  on  which  his  father's  plan  of  discovery 
was  founded.*  "  He  does  this,"  heobserves,  "  to 
show  from  what  slender  argument  so  great  a 
scheme  was  fabricated  and  brought  to  light  ;  and 
for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  those  who  may  desire 
to  know  distinctly  the  circumstances  and  motives 
which  led  his  father  to  undertake  this  enterprise." 

As  this  statement  was  formed  from  notes  and 
documents  found  among  his  father's  papers,  it  is 
too  curious  and  interesting  not  to  deserve  particu- 
lar mention.  In  this  memorandum  he  arranged 
the  foundation  of  his  father's  theory  under  three 
heads:  I.  The  nature  of  things.  2.  The  authority 
of  learned  writers.  3.  The  reports  of  navigators. 

Under  the  first  head  he  set  down  as  a  funda- 
mental principle  that  the  earth  was  a  terraqueous 
sphere  or  globe,  which  might  be  travelled  round 
from  east  to  west,  and  that  men  stood  foot  to  foot 
when  on  opposite  points.  The  circumference 
from  east  to  west,  at  the  equator,  Columbus 
divided,  according  to  Ptolemy,  into  twenty-four 
hours  of  fifteen  degrees  each,  making  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty  degrees.  Of  these  he  imagined, 
comparing  the  globe  of  Ptolemy  with  the  earlier 
map  of  Marinus  of  Tyre,  that  fifteen  hours  had 
been  known  to  the  ancients,  extending  from  the 
Straits  of  Gibraltar,  or  rather  from  the  Canary 
Islands,  to  the  city  of  Thinas  in  Asia,  a  place  set 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  6,  7,  8. 


down  as  at  the  eastern  limits  of  the  known  world. 
The  Portuguese  had  advanced  the  western  frontier 
one  hour  more  by  the  discovery  of  the  Azores  and 
Cape  de  Verde  Islands.  There  remained,  then, 
according  to  the  estimation  of  Columbus,  eight 
hours,  or  one  third  of  the  circumference  of  the 
earth,  unknown  and  unexplored.  This  space 
might,  in  a  great  measure,  be  filled  up  by  the 
eastern  regions  of  Asia,  which  might  extend  so  far 
as  nearly  to  surround  the  globe,  and  to  approach 
the  western  shores  of  Europe  and  Africa.  The 
tract  of  ocean  intervening  between  these  coun- 
tries, he  observes,  would  be  less  than  might  at 
first  be  supposed,  if  the  opinion  of  Alfraganus,  the 
Arabian,  were  admitted,  who,  by  diminishing  the 
size  of  the  degrees,  gave  to  the  earth  a  smaller 
circumference  than  did  other  cosmographers  ;  a 
theory  to  which  Columbus  seems  at  times  to  have 
given  faith.  Granting  these  premises,  it  was 
manifest  that,  by  pursuing  a  direct  course  from 
east  to  west,  a  navigator  would  arrive  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  Asia,  and  discover  any  intervening  land. 

Under  the  second  head  are  named  the  authors 
whose  writings  had  weight  in  convincing  him  that 
the  intervening  ocean  could  be  but  of  moderate 
expanse,  and  easy  to  be  traversed.  Among  these, 
he  cites  the  opinion  of  Aristotle,  Seneca,  and 
Pliny,  that  one  might  pass  from  Cadiz  to  the  In- 
dies in  a  few  days  ;  of  Strabo,  also,  who  observes, 
that  the  ocean  surrounds  the  earth,  bathing  on 
the  east  the  shores  of  India  ;  on  the  west,  the 
coasts  of  Spain  and  Mauritania  ;  so  that  it  is  easy 
to  navigate  from  one  to  the  other  on  the  same 
parallel.* 

In  corroboration  of  the  idea  that  Asia,  or,  as 
he  always  terms  it,  India,  stretched  far  to  the 
east,  so  as  to  occupy  the  greater  part  of  the  unex- 
plored space,  the  narratives  are  cited  of  Marco 
Polo  and  John  Mandeville.  These  travellers  had 
visited,  in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries, 
the  remote  parts  of  Asia,  far  beyond  the  regions 
laid  down  by  Ptolemy  ;  and  their  accounts  of  the 
extent  of  that  continent  to  the  eastward  had  a 
great  effect  in  convincing  Columbus  that  a  voy- 
age to  the  west,  of  no  long  duration,  would  bring 
him  to  its  shores,  or  to  the  extensive  and  wealthy 
islands  which  lie  adjacent.  The  information  con- 
cerning Marco  Polo  is  probably  derived  from 
Paulo  Toscanelli,  a  celebrated  doctor  of  Florence, 
already  mentioned,  with  whom  Columbus  corre- 
sponded in  1474,  and  who  transmitted  to  him  a 
copy  of  a  letter  which  he  had  previously  written  to 
Fernando  Martinez,  a  learned  canon  of  Lisbon. 
This  letter  maintains  the  facility  of  arriving  at  In- 
dia by  a  western  course,  asserting  the  distance  to 
be  but  four  thousand  miles,  in  a  direct  line  from 
Lisbon  to  the  province  of  Mangi,  near  Cathay, 
since  determined  to  be  the  northern  coast  of 
China.  Of  this  country  he  gives  a  magnificent 
description,  drawn  from  the  work  of  Marco 
Polo.  He  adds,  that  in  the  route  lay  the  islands 
of  Antilla  and  Cipango,  distant  from  each  other 
only  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  leagues, 
abounding  in  riches,  and  offering  convenient 
places  for  ships  to  touch  at,  and  obtain  supplies 
on  the  voyage. 

Under  the  third  head  are  enumerated  various 
indications  of  land  in  the  west,  which  had  floated 
to  the  shores  of  the  known  world.  It  is  curious 
to  observe,  how,  when  once  the  mind  of  Colum- 
bus had  become  heated  in  the  inquiry,  it  attracted 
to  it  every  corroborating  circumstance,  however 
vague  and  trivial.  He  appears  to  have  been  par- 


*  Strab.  Cos.  lib.  i.  ii. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


15 


ticularly  attentive  to  the  gleams  of  information 
derived  from  veteran  mariners,  who  had  been 
employed  in  the  recent  voyages  to  the  African 
coasts  ;  and  also  from  the  inhabitants  of  lately 
discovered  islands,  placed,  in  a  manner,  on  the 
frontier  posts  of  geographical  knowledge.  All 
these  are  carefully  noted  down  among  his  mem- 
orandums, to  be  collocated  with  the  facts  and 
opinions  already  stored  up  in  his  mind. 

Such,  for  instance,  is  the  circumstance  related 
to  him  by  Martin  Vicenti,  a  pilot  in  the  service  of 
the  king  of  Portugal  ;  that,  after  sailing  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  leagues  to  the  west  of  Cape  St. 
Vincent,  he  had  taken  from  the  water  a  piece  of 
carved  wood,  which  evidently  had  not  been  labor- 
ed with  an  iron  instrument.  As  the  winds  had 
drifted  it  from  the  west,  it  might  have  come  from 
some  unknown  land  in  that  direction. 

Pedro  Correo,  brother-in-law  of  Columbus,  is 
likewise  cited,  as  having  seen,  on  the  island  of 
Porto  Santo,  a  similar  piece  of  wood,  which  had 
drifted  from  the  same  quarter.  He  had  heard 
also  from  the  king  of  Portugal,  that  reeds  of  an 
immense  size  had  floated  to  some  of  those  islands 
from  the  west,  in  the  description  of  which,  Co- 
lumbus thought  he  recognized  the  immense  reeds 
said  by  Ptolemy  to  grow  in  India. 

Information  is  likewise  noted,  given  him  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Azores,  of  trunks  of  huge 
pine  trees,  of  a  kind  that  did  not  grow  upon  any 
of  the  islands,  wafted  to  their  shores  by  the  west- 
erly winds  ;  but  especially  of  the  bodies  of  two 
dead  men,  cast  upon  the  island  of  Flores,  whose 
features  differed  from  those  of  any  known  race  of 
people. 

To  these  is  added  the  report  of  a  mariner  of  the 
port  of  St.  Mary,  who  asserted  that,  in  the  course 
of  a  voyage  to  Ireland,  he  had  seen  land  to  the 
west,  which  the  ship's  company  took  for  some  ex- 
treme part  of  Tartary.  Other  stories,  of  a  similar 
kind,  are  noted,  as  well  as  rumors  concerning  the 
fancied  islands  of  St.  Brandan,  and  of  the  Seven 
Cities,  to  which,  as  has  already  been  observed, 
Columbus  gave  but  little  faith. 

Such  is  an  abstract  of  the  grounds,  on  which, 
according  to  Fernando,  his  father  proceeded  from 
one  position  to  another  until  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  there  was  undiscovered  land  in  the 
western  part  of  the  ocean  ;  that  it  was  attaina- 
ble ;  that  it  was  fertile  ;  and  finally,  that  it  was 
inhabited. 

It  is  evident  that  several  of  the  facts  herein  enu- 
merated must  have  become  known  to  Columbus 
after  he  had  formed  his  opinion,  and  merely  serv- 
ed to  strengthen  it  ;  still,  everything  that  throws 
any  light  upon  the  process  of  thought,  which  led 
to  so  great  an  event,  is  of  the  highest  interest  ; 
and  the  chain  of  deductions  here  furnished,  though 
not  perhaps  the  most  logical  in  its  concatenation, 
yet,  being  extracted  from  the  papers  of  Colum- 
bus himself,  remains  one  of  the  most  interesting 
documents  in  the  history  of  the  human  mind. 

On  considering  this  statement  attentively,  it  is 
apparent  that  the  grand  argument  which  induced 
Columbus  to  his  enterprise  was  that  placed  under 
the  first  head,  namely,  that  the  most  eastern  part 
of  Asia  known  to  the  ancients  could  not  be  sepa- 
rated from  the  Azores  by  more  than  a  third  of  the 
circumference  of  the  globe  ;  that  the  intervening 
space  must,  in  a  great  measure,  be  filled  up  by 
the  unknown  residue  of  Asia  ;  and  that,  if  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  world  was,  as  he  believed,  less 
than  was  generally  supposed,  the  Asiatic  shores 
could  easily  be  attained  by  a  moderate  voyage  to 
the  west. 


It  is  singular  how  much  the  success  of  this 
great  undertaking  depended  upon  two  happy  er- 
rors, the  imaginary  extent  of  Asia  to  the  east,  and 
the  supposed  smallness  of  the  earth  ;  both  errors 
of  the  most  learned  and  profound  philosophers, 
but  without  which  Columbus  would  hardly  have 
ventured  upon  his  enterprise.  As  to  the  idea  of 
finding  land  by  sailing  directly  to  the  west,  it  is  > 
at  present  so  familiar  to  our  minds,  as  in  some 
measure  to  diminish  the  merits  of  the  first  concep- 
tion, and  the  hardihood  of  the  first  attempt  ;  but 
in  those  days,  as  has  well  been  observed,  the  cir- 
cumference of  the  earth  was  yet  unknown  ;  no 
one  could  tell  whether  the  ocean  were  not  of  im- 
mense extent,  impossible  to  be  traversed  ;  nor 
were  the  laws  of  specific  gravity  and  of  central 
gravitation  ascertained,  by  which,  granting  the 
rotundity  of  the  earth,  the  possibility  of  making 
the  tour  of  it  would  be  manifest.*  The  practica- 
bility, therefore,  of  finding  land  by  sailing  to  the 
west,  was  one  of  those  mysteries  of  nature  which 
are  considered  incredible  while  matters  of  mere 
speculation,  but  the  simplest  things  imaginable 
when  they  have  once  been  ascertained. 

When  Columbus  had  formed  his  theory,  it  be- 
came fixed  in  his  mind  with  singular  firmness, 
and  influenced  his  entire  character  and  conduct. 
He  never  spoke  in  doubt  or  hesitation,  but  with 
as  much  certainty  as  if  his  eyes  had  beheld  the 
promised  land.  No  trial  nor  disappointment 
could  divert  him  from  the  steady  pursuit  of  his 
object.  A  deep  religious  sentiment  mingled 
with  his  meditations,  and  gave  them  at  times  a 
tinge  of  superstition,  but  it  was  of  a  sublime  and 
lofty  kind  ;  he  looked  upon  himself  as  standing  in 
the  hand  of  Heaven,  chosen  from  among  men  for 
the  accomplishment  of  its  high  purpose  ;  he  read,  i 
as  he  supposed,  his  contemplated  discovery  fore- 
told in  Holy  Writ,  and  shadowed  forth  darkly  in 
the  mystic  revelations  of  the  prophets.  The  ends 
of  the  earth  were  to  be  brought  together,  and  all 
nations  and  tongues  and  languages  united  under 
the  banners  of  the  Redeemer.  This  was  to  be  the 
triumphant  consummation  of  his  enterprise,  bring- 
ing the  remote  and  unknown  regions  of  the  earth 
into  communion  with  Christian  Europe  ;  carry- 
ing the  light  of  the  true  faith  into  benighted  and 
pagan  lands,  and  gathering  their  countless  na- 
tions under  the  holy  dominion  of  the  church. 

The  enthusiastic  nature  of  his  conceptions  gave 
an  elevation  to  his  spirit,  and  a  dignity  and  lofti- 
ness to  his  whole  demeanor.  He  conferred  with 
sovereigns  almost  with  a  feeling  of  equality.  His 
views  were  princely  and  unbounded  ;  his  proposed 
discovery  was  of  empires  ;  his  conditions  were 
proportionally  magnificent  ;  nor  would  he  ever, 
even  after  long  delays,  repeated  disappointments, 
and  under  the  pressure  of  actual  penury,  abate 
what  appeared  to  be  extravagant  demands  for  a 
mere  possible  discovery. 

Those  who  could  not  conceive  how  an  ardent 
and  comprehensive  genius  could  arrive,  by  pre- 
sumptive evidence,  at  so  firm  a  conviction,  sought 
for  other  modes  of  accounting  for  it.  When  the 
glorious  result  had  established  the  correctness  of 
the  opinion  of  Columbus,  attempts  were  made  to 
prove  that  he  had  obtained  previous  information 
of  the  lands  which  he  pretended  to  discover. 
Among  these,  was  an  idle  tale  of  a  tempest-tossed 
pilot,  said  to  have  died  in  his  house,  bequeathing 
him  written  accounts  of  an  unknown  land  in  the 
west,  upon  which  he  had  been  driven  by  adverse 


*  Malte-Brun,  G6ographie  Universelle,  torn. 
Note  sur  le  D6couverte  de  l'Am6rique. 


16 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


•winds.  This  story,  according  to  Fernando  Co- 
lumbus, had  no  other  foundation  than  one  of  the 
popular  tales  about  the  shadowy  island  of  St. 
Brandan,  which  a  Portuguese  captain,  returning 
from  Guinea,  fancied  he  had  beheld  beyond  Ma- 
deira. It  circulated  tor  a  time  in  idle  rumor,  al- 
tered and  shaped  to  suit  their  purposes,  by  such 
as  sought  to  tarnhh  the  glory  of  Columbus.  At 
length  it  found  its  way  into  print,  and  has  been 
echoed  by  various  historians,  varying  with  every 
narration,  and  full  of  contradictions  and  improb- 
abilities.* 

An  assertion  has  also  been  made,  that  Colum- 
bus was  preceded  in  his  discoveries  by  Martin 
Behem,  a  contemporary  cosmographer,  who,  it 
was  said,  had  landed  accidentally  on  the  coast  of 
South  America,  in  the  course  of  an  African  expe- 
dition ;  and  that  it  was  with  the  assistance  of  a 
map  or  globe,  projected  by  Behem,  on  which 
was  laid  down  the  newly-discovered  country,  that 
Columbus  made  his  voyage.  This  rumor  origina- 
ted in  an  absurd  misconstruction  of  a  Latin  man- 
uscript, and  was  unsupported  by  any  documents  ; 
yet  it  has  had  its  circulation,  and  has  even  been 
revived  not  many  years  since,  with  more  zeal 
than  discretion  ;  but  is  now  completely  refuted 
and  put  to  rest.  The  land  visited  by  Behem  was 
the  coast  of  Africa  beyond  the  equator  ;  the  globe 
he  projected  was  finished  in  1492,  while  Columbus 
was  absent  on  his  first  voyage  :  it  contains  no 
trace  of  the  New  World,  and  thus  furnishes  con- 
clusive proof  that  its  existence  was  yet  unknown 
to  Behem. f 

There  is  a  certain  meddlesome  spirit,  which,  in 
the  garb  of  learned  research,  goes  prying  about 
the  traces  of  history,  casting  down  is  monuments, 
and  marring  and  mutilating  its  fairest  trophies. 
Care  should  be  taken  to  vindicate  great  names 
from  such  pernicious  erudition.  It  defeats  one  of 
the  most  salutary  purposes  of  history,  that  of  fur- 
nishing examples  of  what  human  genius  and 
laudable  enterprise  may  accomplish.  For  this 
purpose  some  pains  have  been  taken  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapters  to  trace  the  rise  and  progress  of 
this  grand  idea  in  the  mind  of  Columbus  ;  to  show 
that  it  was  the  conception  of  his  genius,  quicken- 
ed by  the  impulse  of  the  age,  and  aided  by  those 
scattered  gleams  of  knowledge  which  fell  ineffect- 
ually upon  ordinary  minds. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

CORRESPONDENCE  OF  COLUMBUS  WITH  PAULO 
-  TOSCANELLI — EVENTS  IN  PORTUGAL  RELATIVE 
.  TO  DISCOVERIES — PROPOSITION  OF  COLUMBUS 
TO  THE  PORTUGUESE  COURT — DEPARTURE  FROM 
'  PORTUGAL. 

IT  is  impossible  to  determine  the  precise  time 
when  Columbus  first  conceived  the  design  of  seek- 
ing a  western  route  to  India.  It  is  certain,  how- 
ever, that  he  meditated  it  as  early  as  the  year 
1474,  though  as  yet  it  lay  crude  and  unmatured 
in  his  mind.  This  fact,  which  is  of  some  impor- 
tance, is  sufficiently  established  by  the  correspond- 
ence already  mentioned  with  the  learned  Tosca- 
nelli  of  Florence,  which  took  place  in  the  summer 
of  that  year.  The  letter  of  Toscanelli  is  in  reply 
to  one  from  Columbus,  and  applauds  the  design 
which  he  had  expressed  of  making  a  voyage  to 


*  See    illustrations,    article    "  Rumor   concerning 
the  Pilot  who  died  in  the  House  of  Columbus." 
f  See  illustrations,  article  "  Behem." 


the  west.  To  demonstrate  more  clearly  the  facil- 
ity of  arriving  at  India  in  that  direction,  he  sent 
him  a  map,  projected  partly  according  to  Ptol- 
emy, and  partly  according  to  the  descriptions  of 
Marco  Polo,  the  Venetian.  The  eastern  coast  of 
Asia  was  depicted  in  front  of  the  western  coasts 
of  Africa  and  Europe,  with  a  moderate  space  of 
ocean  between  them,  in  which  were  placed  at 
convenient  distances  Cipango,  Antilla,  and  the 
other  islands.*  Columbus  was  greatly  animated 
by  the  letter  and  chart  of  Toscanelli,  who  was 
considered  one  of  the  ablest  cosmographers  of  the 
day.  He  appears  to  have  procured  the  work  of 
Marco  Polo,  which,  had  been  translated  into  va- 
rious languages,  and  existed  in  manuscript  in 
most  libraries.  This  author  gives  marvellous  ac- 
counts of  the  riches  of  the  realms  of  Cathay  and 
Mangi,  or  Mangu,  since  ascertained  to  be  Korth- 
ern  and  Southern  China,  on  the  coast  of  which, 
according  to  the  map  of  Toscanelli,  a  voyager 
sailing  directly  west  would  be  sure  to  arrive.  He 
describes  in  unmeasured  terms  the  power  and 
grandeur  of  the  sovereign  of  these  countries,  the 
Great  Khan  of  Tartary,  and  the  splendor  and 
magnitude  of  his  capitals  of  Cambalu  and  Quinsai, 
and  the  wonders  of  the  island  of  Cipango  or  Zi- 
pangi,  supposed  to  be  Japan.  This  island  he 
places  opposite  Cathay,  five  hundred  leagues  in 
the  ocean.  He  represents  it  as  abounding  in 
gold,  precious  stones,  and  other  choice  objects  of 
commerce,  with  a  monarch  whose  palace  was 
roofed  with  plates  of  gold  instead  of  lead.  The 
narrations  of  this  traveller  were  by  many  consid- 
ered fabulous  ;  but  though  full  of  what  appear  to 
be  splendid  exaggerations,  they  have  since  been 
found  substantially  correct.  They  are  thus  par- 
ticularly noted,  from  the  influence  they  had  over 
the  imagination  of  Columbus.  The  work  of  Mar- 
co Polo  is  a  key  to  many  parts  of  his  history.  In 
his  applications  to  the  various  courts,  he  repre- 
sented the  countries  he  expected  to  discover  as 
those  regions  of  inexhaustible  wealth  which  the 
Venetian  had  described.  The  territories  of  the 
Grand  Khan  were  the  objects  of  inquiry  in  all  his 
voyages  ;  and  in  his  cruisings  among  the  Antilles 
he  was  continually  flattering  himself  with  the 
hopes  of  arriving  at  the  opulent  island  of  Cipango, 
and  the  coasts  of  Mangi  and  Cathay. f 

While  the  design  of  attempting  the  discovery  in 
the  west  was  maturing  in  the  mind  of  Columbus, 
he  made  a  voyage  to  the  north  of  Europe.  Of 
this  we  have  no  other  memorial  than  the  follow- 
ing passage,  extracted  by  his  son  from  one  of  his 
letters  :  "  In  the  year  1477,  in  February,  I  navi- 
gated one  hundred  leagues  beyond  Thule,  the 
southern  part  of  which  is  seventy-three  degrees 
distant  from  the  equator,  and  not  sixty-three,  as 
some  pretend  ;  neither  is  it  situated  within  the 
line  which  includes  the  west  of  Ptolemy,  but  is 
much  more  westerly.  The  English,  principally 
those  of  Bristol,  go  with  their  merchandise  to  this 
island,  which  is  as  large  as  England.  When  I 
was"  there  the  sea  was  not  frozen,  and  the  tides 
were  so  great  as  to  rise  and  fall  twenty-six 
fathom.  "J 

*  This  map,  by  which  Columbus  sailed  on  his  first 
voyage  of  discovery,  Las  Casas  (lib.  i.  cap.  12)  says 
he  had  in  his  possession  at  the  time  of  writing  his  his- 
tory. It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  so  interesting 
a  document  should  be  lost.  It  may  yet  exist  among 
the  chaotic  lumber  of  the  Spanish  archives.  Few  doc- 
uments of  mere  curiosity  would  be  more  precious. 

f  A  more  particular  account  of  Marco  Polo  and  his 
writings  is  given  among  the  illustrations. 

|  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  4. 


I        PART    OF  A  TERRESTRIAL    GLOBE    MADE    AT   NUREMBERG   IN  THE  YEAR  1492    BY    MARTIN    BEH 


The  terrestrial  globe,  of  which  a  segment  is  given  above,  was  made  at  Nuremberg  in  the  year  1492, 
the  very  year  on  which  Columbus  departed  on  his  first  voyage  of  discovery.  Martin  Bekem,  the 
inventor,  was  one  of  the  most  learned  cosmographers  of  the  time,  and,  having  resided  at  Lisbon  in  the 
employ  of  the  king  of  Portugal,  he  had  probably  seen  the  map  of  Toscanelli,  and  the  documents 
submitted  by  Columbus  to  the  consideration  of  the  Portuguese  government.  His  globe  may,  there- 
fore, be  presumed  illustrative  of  the  idea  entertained  by  Columbus  of  the  islands  in  the  ocean  near  the 
extremity  of  Asia,  at  the  time  he  undertook  his  discovery. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


19 


The  island  thus  mentioned  is  generally  sup- 
posed to  have  been  Iceland,  which  is  far  to  the 
west  of  the  Ultima  Thule  of  the  ancients,  as  laid 
down  in  the  map  of  Ptolemy. 

Several  more  years  elapsed,  without  any  decid- 
ed efforts  on  the  part  of  Columbus  to  carry  his 
design  into  execution.  He  was  too  poor  to  fit  out 
the  armament  necessary  for  so  important  an  expe- 
dition. Indeed  it  was  an  enterprise  only  to  be 
undertaken  in  the  employ  of  some  sovereign  state, 
which  could  assume  dominion  over  the  territories 
he  might  discover,  and  reward  him  with  dignities 
and  privileges  commensurate  to  his  services.  It 
is  asserted  that  he  at  one  time  endeavored  to  en- 
gage his  native  country,  Genoa,  in  the  undertak- 
ing, but  without  success.  No  record  remains  of 
such  an  attempt,  though  it  is  generally  believed, 
and  has  strong  probability  in  its  favor.  His  resi- 
dence in  Portugal  placed  him  at  hand  to  solicit 
the  patronage  of  that  power,  but  Alphonso,  who 
was  then  on  the  throne,  was  too  much  engrossed 
in  the  latter  part  of  his  reign  with  a  war  with 
Spain,  for  the  succession  of  the  Princess  Juana  to 
the  crown  of  Castile,  to  engage  in  peaceful  enter- 
prises of  an  expensive  nature.  The  public  mind, 
also,  was  not  prepared  for  so  perilous  an  under- 
taking. Notwithstanding  the  many  recent  voy- 
ages to  the  coast  of  Africa  and  the  adjacent 
islands,  and  the  introduction  of  the  compass  into 
more  general  use,  navigation  was  still  shackled 
with  impediments,  and  the  mariner  rarely  ven- 
tured far  out  of  sight  ol  land. 

Discovery  advanced  slowly  along  the  coasts  of 
Africa,  ana  the  mariners  feared  to  cruise  far  into 
the  southern  hemisphere,  with  the  stars  of  which 
they  were  totally  unacquainted.  To  such  men, 
the  project  of  a  voyage  directly  westward,  into 
the  midst  of  that  boundless  waste,  to  seek  some 
visionary  land,  appeared  <is  extravagant  as  it 
would  be  at  the  present  clay  to  launch  forth  in  a 
balloon  into  the  regions  of  space  in  quest  of  some 
distant  star. 

The  time,  however,  was  at  hand,  that  was  to 
extend  the  sphere  of  navigation.  The  era  was 
propitious  to  the  quick  advancement  of  knowledge. 
The  recent  invention  of  the  art  of  printing  enabled 
men  to  communicate  rapidly  and  extensively  their 
ideas  and  discoveries.  It  drew  forth  learning 
from  libraries  and  convents,  and  brought  it  famil- 
iarly to  the  reading-desk  of  the  student.  Volumes 
of  information,  which  before  had  existed  only  in 
Costly  manuscripts,  carefully  treasured  up,  and 
kept  out  of  the  reach  of  the  indigent  scholar  and 
obscure  artist,  were  now  in  every  hand.  There 
was  henceforth  to  be  no  retrogression  in  knowl- 
edge, nor  any  pause  in  its  career.  Every  step  in 
advance,  was  immediately,  and  simultaneously, 
and  widely  promulgated,  recorded  in  a  thousand 
forms,  and  fixed  forever.  There  could  never 
again  be  a  dark  age  ;  nations  might  shut  their 
eyes  to  the  light,  and  sit  in  wilful  darkness,  but 
they  could  not  trample  it  out  ;  it  would  still  shine 
on,  dispensed  to  happier  parts  of  the  world,  by 
the  diffusive  powers  of  the  press. 
.  At  this  juncture,  in  1481,  a  monarch  ascended 
'  the  throne  of  Portugal,  of  different  ambition  from 
Alphonso.  John  II.,  then  in  the  twenty-fifth  year 
of  his  age,  had  imbibed  the  passion  for  discovery 
from  his  grand-uncle,  Prince  Henry,  and  with  his 
reign  all  its  activity  revived.  His  first  care  was 
to  build  a  fort  at  St.  George  de  la  Mina,  on  the 
coast  of  Guinea,  to  protect  the  trade  carried  on 
in  that  neighborhood  for  gold  dust,  ivory,  and 
slaves. 

The  African  discoveries  had  conferred  great 


glory  upon  Portugal,  but  as  yet  they  had  been 
expensive  rather  than  profitable.  The  accomplish- 
ment of  the  route  to  India,  however,  it  was  ex- 
pected would  repay  all  cost  and  toil,  and  open  a 
source  of  incalculable  wealth  to  the  nation.  The 
project  of  Prince  Henry,  which  had  now  been 
tardily  prosecuted  for  half  a  century,  had  excited 
a  curiosity  about  the  remote  parts  of  Asia,  and 
revived  all  the  accounts,  true  and  fabulous,  of 
travellers. 

Besides  the  work  of  Marco  Polo,  already  men- 
tioned, there  was  the  narrative  of  Rabbi  Benjamin 
ben  Jonah,  of  Tudela,  a  Spanish  Jew,  who  set 
out  from  Saragossa  in  1173,  to  visit  the  scattered 
remnants  of  the  Hebrew  tribes.  Wandering  with 
unwearied  zeal  on  this  pious  errand,  over  most 
parts  of  the  known  world,  he  penetrated  China, 
and  passed  thence  to  the  southern  islands  of 
Asia.*  There  were  also  the  narratives  of  Carpini 
and  Ascelin,  two  friars,  dispatched,  the  one  in 
1246,  the  other  in  1247,  by  Pope  Innocent  IV.,  as 
apostolic  ambassadors,  for  the  purpose  of  convert- 
ing the  Grand  Khan  of  Tartary  ;  and  the  journal 
of  William  Rubruquis  (or  Ruysbroek),  a  cele- 
brated Cordelier,  sent  on  a  similar  errand  in  1253, 
by  Louis  IX.  of  France,  then  on  his  unfortunate 
crusade  into  Palestine.  These  pious  but  chimerical 
missions  had  proved  abortive  ;  but  the  narratives 
of  them  being  revived  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
served  to  inflame  the  public  curiosity  respecting 
the  remote  parts  of  Asia. 

In  these  narratives  we  first  find  mention  made 
of  the  renowned  Prester  John,  a  Christian  king,  j 
said  to  hold  sway  in  a  remote  part  of  the  East, 
who  was  long  an  object  of  curiosity  and  research, 
but  whose  kingdom  seemed  to  shift  its  situation 
in  the  tale  of  every  traveller,  and  to  vanish  from 
the  search  as  effectually  as  the  unsubstantial 
island  of  St.  Brandan.  All  the  speculations  con- 
cerning this  potentate  and  his  Oriental  realm  were 
again  put  in  circulation.  It  was  fancied  that 
traces  of  his  empire  were  discovered  in  the  inte- 
rior of  Africa,  to  the  east  of  Benin,  where  there 
was  a  powerful  prince,  who  used  a  cross  among 
the  insignia  of  royalty.  John  II.  partook  largely 
of  the  popular  excitement  produced  by  these  nar- 
rations. In  the  early  part  of  his  reign  he  actually 
sent  missions  in  quest  of  Prester  John,  to  visit 
whose  dominions  became  the  romantic  desire  of 
many  a  religious  enthusiast. f  The  magnificent 
idea  he  had  formed  of  the  remote  parts  of  the 
East  made  him  extremely  anxious  that  the  splen- 
did project  of  Prince  Henry  should  be  realized, 
and  the  Portuguese  flag  penetrate  to  the  Indian 
seas.  Impatient  of  the  slowness  with  which  his 
discoveries  advanced  along  the  coast  of  Africa, 
and  of  the  impediments  which  every  cape  and 
promontory  presented  to  nautical  enterprise,  he 
called  in  the  aid  of  science  to  devise  some  means 
by  which  greater  scope  and  certainty  might  be 
given  to  navigation.  His  two  physicians,  Rod- 
erigo  and  Joseph,  the  latter  a  Jew,  the  most  able 
astronomers  and  cosmographers  of  his  kingdom, 
together  with  the  celebrated  Martin  Behem,  en- 
tered into  a  learned  consultation  on  the  subject. 
The  result  of  their  conferences  and  labors  was  the 
application  of  the  astrolabe  to  navigation,  ena- 
bling the  seaman,  by  the  altitude  of  the  sun,  to  as- 


*  Bergeron,  Voyages  en  Asie,  torn.  i.  The  work 
of  Benjamin  of  Tudela,  originally  written  in  Hebrew, 
was  so  much  in  repute,  that  the  translation  went 
through  sixteen  editions.  Andres,  Hist.  B.  Let.,  ii. 
cap.  6. 

f  See  illustrations,  article  "  Prester  John." 


20 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


certain  his  distance  from  the  equator.*  This  in- 
strument has  since  been  improved  and  modified 
into  the  modern  quadrant,  of  which,  even  at  its 
first  introduction,  it  possessed  all  the  essential 
advantages. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  effect  produced 
upon  navigation  by  this  invention.  It  cast  it  loose 
at  once  from  its  long  bondage  to  the  land,  and  set 
it  free  to  rove  the  deep.  The  mariner  now,  in- 
stead of  coasting  the  shores  like  the  ancient  navi- 
gators, and,  it  driven  from  the  land,  groping  his 
way  back  in  doubt  and  apprehension  by  the  un- 
certain guidance  of  the  stars,  might  adventure 
boldly  into  unknown  seas,  confident  of  being  able 
to  trace  his  course  by  means  of  the  compass  and 
the  astrolabe. 

It  was  shortly  after  this  event,  which  had  pre- 
pared guides  for  discovery  across  the  trackless 
ocean,  that  Columbus  made  the  first  attempt,  of 
which  we  have  any  clear  and  indisputable  record, 
to  procure  royal  patronage  for  his  enterprise. 
The  court  of  Portugal  had  shown  extraordinary 
liberality  in  rewarding  nautical  discovery.  Most 
of  those  who  had  succeeded  in  her  service  had 
been  appointed  to  the  government  of  the  islands 
and  countries  they  had  discovered,  although  many 
of  them  were  foreigners  by  birth.  Encouraged 
by  this  liberality,  and  by  the  anxiety  evinced  by 
King  John  II.  to  accomplish  a  passage  by  sea  to 
India,  Columbus  obtained  an  audience  of  that 
monarch,  and  proposed,  in  case  the  king  would 
furnish  him  with  ships  and  men,  to  undertake  a 
shorter  and  more  direct  route  than  that  along  the 
coast  of  Africa.  His  plan  was  to  strike  directly 
to  the  west,  across  the  Atlantic.  He  then  unfold- 
ed his  hypothesis  with  respect  to  the  extent  of 
Asia,  describing  also  the  immense  riches  of  the 
island  of  Cipango,  the  first  land  at  which  he  ex- 
pected to  arrive.  Of  this  audience  we  have  two 
accounts,  written  in  somewhat  of  an  opposite 
spirit  ;  one  by  his  son  Fernando,  the  other  by 
Joam  de  Barros,  the  Portuguese  historiographer. 
It  is  curious  to  notice  the  different  views  taken  of 
the  same  transaction  by  the  enthusiastic  son,  and 
by  the  cool,  perhaps  prejudiced,  historian. 

The  king,  according  to  Fernando,  listened  to 
his  father  with  great  attention,  but  was  discour- 
aged from  engaging  in  any  new  scheme  of  the 
kind,  by  the  cost  and  trouble  already  sustained 
in  exploring  the  route  by  the  African  coast,  which 
as  yet  remained  unaccomplished.  His  father, 
however,  supported  his  proposition  by  such  excel- 
lent reasons,  that  the  king  was  induced  to  give  his 
consent.  The  only  difficulty  that  remained  was 
the  terms  ;  for  Columbus,  being  a  man  of  lofty 
and  noble  sentiments,  demanded  high  and  honor- 
able titles  and  rewards,  to  the  end,  says  Fernan- 
do, that  he  might  leave  behind  him  a  name  and 
family  worthy  of  his  deeds  and  merits. f 

Barros,  on  the  other  hand,  attributes  the  seem- 
ing acquiescence  of  the  king,  merely  to  the  im- 
portunities of  Columbus.  He  considered  him, 
says  the  historian,  a  vainglorious  man,  fond  of 
displaying  his  abilities,  and  given  to  fantastic 
fancies,  such  as  that  respecting  the  island  of  Ci- 
pango. J  But  in  fact,  this  idea  of  Columbus  being 
vain,  was  taken  up  by  the  Portuguese  writers  in 
after  years  ;  and  as  to  the  island  of  Cipango,  it 
was  far  from  being  considered  chimerical  by  the 
king,  who,  as  has  been  shown  by  his  mission  in 


*  Barros,  decad.  i,  lib.  iv.  cap.  2.     Maffei,  lib.  vi. 
p.  6  and  7. 

•j-  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  10. 

j  Barros,  Asia,  decad.  I,  lib.  iii.  cap.  2. 


search  of  Prester  John,  was  a  ready  believer  in 
these  travellers'  tales  concerning  the  East.  The 
reasoning  of  Columbus  must  have  produced  an 
effect  on  the  mind  of  the  monarch,  since  it  is  cer- 
tain that  he  referred  the  proposition  to  a  learned 
junto,  charged  with  all  matters  relating  to  mari- 
time discovery. 

This  junto  was  composed  of  two  able  cosmogra- 
phers,  masters  Roderigo  and  Joseph,  and  the 
king's  confessor,  Diego  Ortiz  de  Cazadilla,  bishop 
of  Ceuta,  a  man  greatly  reputed  for  his  learning, 
a  Castilian  by  birth,  and  generally  called  Caza- 
dilla, from  the  name  of  his  native  place.  This 
scientific  body  treated  the  project  as  extravagant 
and  visionary. 

Still  the  king  does  not  appear  to  have  been  sat- 
isfied. According  to  his  historian  Vasconcelos,* 
he  convoked  his  council,  composed  of  prelates  and 
persons  of  the  greatest  learning  in  the  kingdom, 
and  asked  their  advice,  whether  to  adopt  this  new 
route  of  discovery,  or  to  pursue  that  which  they 
had  already  opened. 

It  may  not  be  deemed  superfluous  to  notice 
briefly  the  discussion  of  the  council  on  this  great 
question.  Vasconcelos  reports  a  speech  of  the 
Bishop  of  Ceuta,  in  which  he  not  only  objected  to 
the  proposed  enterprise,  as  destitute  of  reason, 
but  even  discountenanced  any  further  prosecution 
of  the  African  discoveries.  "They  tended,"  he 
said,  "  to  distract  the  attention,  drain  the  re- 
sources, and  divide  the  power  of  the  nation, 
already  too  much  weakened  by  recent  war  and 
pestilence.  While  their  forces  were  thus  scattered 
abroad  on  remote  and  unprofitable  expeditions, 
they  exposed  themselves  to  attack  from  their  ac- 
tive enemy  the  King  of  Castile.  The  greatness  of 
monarchs,"»he  continued,  "  did  not  arise  so  much 
from  the  extent  of  their  dominions,  as  from  the 
wisdom  and  ability  with  which  they  governed. 
In  the  Portuguese  nation  it  would  be  madness  to 
launch  into  enterprises  without  first  considering 
them  in  connection  with  its  means.  The  king  had 
already  sufficient  undertakings  in  hand  of  certain 
advantage,  without  engaging  in  others  of  a  wild, 
chimerical  nature.  If  he  wished  employment  for 
the  active  valor  of  the  nation,  the  war  in  which  he 
was  engaged  against  the  Moors  of  Barbary  was 
sufficient,  wherein  his  triumphs  were  of  solid  ad- 
vantage, tending  to  cripple  and  enfeeble  those 
neighboring  foes,  who  had  proved  themselves  so 
dangerous  when  possessed  of  power. " 

This  cool  and  cautious  speech  of  the  Bishop  of 
Ceuta,  directed  against  enterprises  which  were 
the  glory  of  the  Portuguese,  touched  the  national 
pride  of  Don  Pedro  de  Meneses,  Count  of  Villa 
Real,  and  drew  from  him  a  lofty  and  patriotic 
reply.  It  has  been  said  by  an  historian  that  this 
reply  was  in  support  of  the  proposition  of  Colum- 
bus ;  but  that  does  not  clearly  appear.  He  may 
have  treated  the  proposal  with  respect,  but  his 
eloquence  was  employed  for  those  enterprises  in 
which  the  Portuguese  were  already  engaged. 

"Portugal,"  he  observed,  "was  not  in  its  in- 
fancy, nor  were  its  princes  so  poor  as  to  lack 
means  to  engage  in  discoveries.  Even  granting 
that  those  proposed  by  Columbus  were  conjec- 
tural, why  should  they  abandon  those  commenced 
by  their  late  Prince  Henry,  on  such  solid  founda- 
tions, and  prosecuted  with  such  happy  prospects  ? 
Crowns,"  he  observed,  "enriched  themselves  by 
commerce,  fortified  themselves  by  alliance,  and 
acquired  empires  by  conquest.  The  views  of  a 
nation  could  not  always  be  the  same  ;  they  ex- 

*  Vasconcelos,  Vida  del  Rey  Don  Juan  II.,  lib.  iv. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


21 


tended  with  its  opulence  and  prosperity.  Portugal 
was  at  peace  with  all  the  princes  of  Europe.  It 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  engaging  in  an  extensive 
enterprise.  It  would  be  the  greatest  glory  for 
Portuguese  valor  to  penetrate  into  the  secrets  and 
horrors  of  the  ocean  sea,  so  formidable  to  the 
other  nations  of  the  world.  Thus  occupied,  it 
would  escape  the  idleness  engendered  in  a  long 
interval  of  peace — idleness,  that  source  of  vice, 
that  silent  me,  which,  little  by  little,  wore  away 
the  strength  and  valor  of  a  nation.  It  was  an  af- 
front, ' '  he  added, ' '  to  the  Portuguese  name  to  men- 
ace it  with  imaginary  perils,  when  it  had  proved 
itself  so  intrepid  in  encountering  those  which 
were  most  certain  and  tremendous.  Great  souls 
were  formed  for  great  enterprises.  He  wondered 
much  that  a  prelate,  so  religious  as  the  Bishop  of 
Ceuta,  should  oppose  this  undertaking  ;  the  ulti- 
mate object  of  which  was  to  augment  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  spread  it  from  pole  to  pole  ;  reflecting 
glory  on  the  Portuguese  nation,  and  yielding  em- 
pire and  lasting  fame  to  its  princes."  He  con- 
cluded by  declaring  that,  "  although  a  soldier,  he 
dared  to  prognosticate,  with  a  voice  and  spirit  as 
if  from  heaven,  to  whatever  prince  should  achieve 
this  enterprise,  more  happy  success  and  durable 
renown  than  had  ever  been  obtained  by  sovereign 
the  most  valorous  and  fortunate."  *  The  warm 
and  generous  eloquence  of  the  count  overpowered 
the  cold-spirited  reasonings  of  the  bishop  as  far  as 
the  project  of  circumnavigating  Africa  was  con- 
cerned, which  was  prosecuted  with  new  ardor 
and  triumphant  success  :  the  proposition  of  Co- 
lumbus, however,  was  generally  condemned  by 
the  council. 

Seeing  that  King  John  still  manifested  an  incli- 
nation for  the  enterprise,  it  was  suggested  to  him 
by  the  Bishop  of  Ceuta  that  Columbus  might  be 
kept  in  suspense  while  a  vessel  secretly  dispatched 
in  the  direction  he  should  point  out  might  ascer- 
tain whether  there  were  any  foundation  for  his 
theory.  By  this  means  all  its  advantages  might 
be  secured,  without  committing  the  dignity  of  the 
crown  by  formal  negotiations  about  what  might 
prove  a  mere  chimera.  King  John,  in  an  evil 
hour,  had  the  weakness  to  permit  a  stratagem  so 


inconsistent  with  his  usual  justice  and  magna- 
nimity. Columbus  was  required  to  furnish  for  the 
consideration  of  the  council  a  detailed  plan  of  his 
proposed  voyage,  with  the  charts  and  documents 
according  to  which  he  intended  to  shape  his 
course.  These  being  procured,  a  caravel  wast 
dispatched  with  the  ostensible  design  of  carrying 
provisions  to  the  Cape  de  Verde  islands,  but  with 
private  instructions  to  pursue  the  designated 
route.  Departing  from  those  islands  the  caravel 
stood  westward  tor  several  days,  until  the  weather 
became  stormy  ;  when  the  pilots,  seeing  nothing 
but  an  immeasurable  waste  of  wild,  tumbling 
waves  still  extending  before  them,  lost  all  courage 
and  put  back,  ridiculing  the  project  of  Columbus 
as  extravagant  and  irrational.* 

This  unworthy  attempt  to  defraud  him  of  his 
enterprise  roused  the  indignation  of  Columbus, 
and  he  declined  all  offers  of  King  John  to  renew 
the  negotiation.  The  death  of  his  wife,  which 
had  occurred  some  time  previously,  had  dissolved 
the  domestic  tie  which  bound  him  to  Portugal  ; 
he  determined,  therefore,  to  abandon  a  country 
where  he  had  been  treated  with  so  little  faith,  and 
to  look  elsewhere  for  patronage.  Before  his  de- 
parture, he  engaged  his  brother  Bartholomew  to 
carry  proposals  to  the  King  of  England,  though 
he  does  not  appear  to  have  entertained  great  hope 
from  that  quarter  ;  England  by  no  means  possess- 
ing at  the  time  the  spirit  of  nautical  enterprise 
which  has  since  distinguished  her.  The  great  re- 
liance of  Columbus  was  on  his  own  personal  exer- 
tions. 

It  was  toward  the  end  of  1484  that  he  left  Lis- 
bon, taking  with  him  his  son  Diego.  His  depart- 
ure had  to  be  conducted  with  secrecy,  lest,  as 
some  assert,  it  should  be  prevented  by  King  John  ; 
but  lest,  as  others  surmise,  it  should  be  prevented 
by  his  creditors.!  Like  many  other  great  projec- 
tors, while  engaged  upon  schemes  of  vast  benefit 
to  mankind,  he  had  suffered  his  own  affairs  to  go 
to  ruin,  and  was  reduced  to  struggle  hard  with 
poverty  ;  nor  is  it  one  of  the  least  interesting  cir- 
cumstances in  his  eventful  life,  that  he  had,  in  a 
manner,  to  beg  his  way  from  court  to  court,  to 
offer  to  princes  the  discovery  of  a  world. 


BOOK    II. 


CHAPTER  I. 


PROCEEDINGS  OF  COLUMBUS  AFTER  LEAVING  POR- 
TUGAL— HIS  APPLICATIONS  IN  SPAIN— CHARAC- 
TERS OF  FERDINAND  AND  ISABELLA. 

[1485-] 

THE  immediate  movements  of  Columbus  on 
leaving  Portugal  are  involved  in  uncertainty.  It 
is  said  that  about  this  time  he  made  a  proposition 
of  his  enterprise,  in  person,  as  he  had  formerly 
done  by  letter,  to  the  government  of  Genoa.  The 
republic,  however,  was  in  a  languishing  decline, 
and  embarrassed  by  a  foreign  war.  Caffa,  her 
great  deposit  in  the  Crimea,  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  Turks,  and  her  flag  was  on  the  point 
of  being  driven  from  the  Archipelago.  Her  spirit 
was  broken  with  her  fortunes  ;  for  with  nations, 


*  Vasconcelos,  lib.  iv.     La  Clede,  Hist.   Portugal, 
lib.  xiii.  torn.  iii. 


as  with  individuals,  enterprise  is  the  child  of  pros- 
perity, and  is  apt  to  languish  in  evil  days  when 
there  is  most  need  of  its  exertion.  Thus  Genoa, 
disheartened  by  her  reverses,  shut  her  ears  to  the 
proposition  of  Columbus,  which  might  have  ele- 
vated her  to  tenfold  splendor,  and  perpetuated 
within  her  grasp  the  golden  wand  of  commerce. 
While  at  Genoa,  Columbus  is  said  to  have  made 
arrangements  out  of  his  scanty  means  for  the  com- 
fort of  his  aged  father.  It  is  also  affirmed  that 
about  this  time  he  carried  his  proposal  to  Venice, 
where  it  was  declined  on  account  of  the  critical 
state  of  national  affairs.  This,  however,  is 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  8.  Herrera,  decad.  i, 
lib.  i.  cap  7. 

f  This  surmise  is  founded  on  a  letter  from  King 
John  to  Columbus,  written  some  years  afterward,  in- 
viting him  to  return  to  Portugal,  and  insuring  him 
against  arrest  on  account  of  any  process,  civil  or  crim- 
inal, which  might  be  pending  against  him.  See  Nav- 
arrete,  Collec.  torn.  ii.  doc.  3. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


merely   traditional,    and   unsupported    by   docu- 
mentary evidence.     The  first  firm  and  indisputa- 
ble trace  we  have  of  Columbus  after  leaving  Por- 
tugal is  in  the  south  of  Spain,  in  1485,  where  we 
find   him  seeking  his  fortune  among  the  Spanish 
••nobles,  several  of  whom  had  vast  possessions,  and 
'exercised  almost  independent  sovereignty  in  their 
domains. 

Foremost  among  these  were  the  Dukes  of  Me- 
dina Sidonia  and  Medina  Celi,  who  had  estates 
like  principalities  lying  along  the  sea-coast,  with 
ports  and  shipping  and  hosts  of  retainers  at  their 
command.  They  served  the  crown  in  its  Moor- 
ish wars  more  as  allied  princes  than  as  vassals, 
bringing  armies  into  the  field  led  by  themselves, 
or  by  captains  of  their  own  appointment.  Their 
domestic  establishments  were  on  almost  a  regal 
scale  ;  their  palaces  were  filled  with  persons  of 
merit,  and  young  cavaliers  of  noble  birth,  to  be 
reared  under  their  auspices,  in  the  exercise  of 
arts  and  arms. 

Columbus  had  many  interviews  with  the  Duke 
of  Medina  Sidonia,  who  was  tempted  for  a  time, 
by  the  splendid  prospects  held  out  ;  but  their  very 
splendor  threw  a  coloring  of  improbability  over 
the  enterprise,  and  he  finally  rejected  it  as  the 
dream  of  an  Italian  visionary. 

The  Duke  of  Medina  Celi  was  likewise  favor- 
able at  the  outset.  He  entertained  Columbus  tor 
some  time  in  his  house,  and  was  actually  on  the 
point  of  granting  him  three  or  four  caravels  which 
lay  ready  for  sea  in  his  harbor  of  Port  St.  Mary, 
opposite  Cadiz,  when  he  suddenly  changed  his 
mind,  deterred  by  the  consideration  that  the  en- 
terprise, if  successful,  would  involve  discoveries 
too  important  to  be  grasped  by  any  but  a  sov- 
ereign power,  and  that  the  Spanish  government 
might  be  displeased  at  his  undertaking  it  on  his 
own  account.  Finding,  however,  that  Colum- 
bus intended  to  make  his  next  application  to  the 
King  of  France,  and  loath  that  an  enterprise  of 
such  importance  should  be  lost  to  Spain,  the  duke 
wrote  to  Queen  Isabella  recommending  it  strong- 
ly to  her  attention.  The  queen  made  a  favorable 
reply,  and  requested  that  Columbus  might  be  sent 
to  her.  He  accordingly  set  out  for  the  Spanish 
court,  then  at  Cordova,  bearing  a  letter  to  the 
queen  from  the  duke,  soliciting  that,  in  case  the 
expedition  should  be  carried  into  effect,  he  might 
have  a  share  in  it,  and  the  fitting  out  of  the  arma- 
ment from  his  port  of  St.  Mary,  as  a  recompense 
for  having  waived  the  enterprise  in  favor  of  the 
crown.* 

The  time  when  Columbus  thus  sought  his  for- 
tunes at  the  court  of  Spain  coincided  with  one  of 
the  most  brilliant  periods  of  the  Spanish  mon- 
archy. The  union  of  the  kingdoms  of  Arragon 
and  Castile,  by  the  marriage  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  had  consolidated  the  Christian  power  in 
the  Peninsula,  and  put  an  end  to  those  internal 
feuds  which  had  so  long  distracted  the  country, 
and  insured  the  domination  of  the  Moslems.  The 


*  Letter  of  the  Duke  of  Medina  Celi  to  the  grand 
cardinal.  Navarrete,  Collect,  vol.  ii.  p.  20. 

N.B. — In  the  previous  editions  of  this  work,  the 
first  trace  we  have  of  Columbus  in  Spain  is  at  the 
gate  of  the  convent  of  La  Rabida,  in  Andalusia.  Sub- 
sequent investigations  have  induced  me  to  conform  to 
the  opinion  of  the  indefatigable  and  accurate  Navar- 
rete, given  in  his  third  volume  of  documents,  that 
the  first  trace  of  Columbus  in  Spain  was  his  applica- 
tion to  the  Dukes  of  Medina  Sidonia  and  Medina 
Celi,  and  that  his  visit  to  the  convent  of  La  Rabida 
was  some  few  years  subsequent. 


whole  force  of  united  Spain  was  now  exerted  in 
the  chivalrous  enterprise  of  the  Moorish  con- 
quest. The  Moors,  who  had  once  spread  over  the 
whole  country  like  an  inundation,  were  now  pent 
up  within  the  mountain  boundaries  of  the  king- 
dom of  Granada.  The  victorious  armies  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella  were  continually  advancing, 
and  pressing  this  fierce  people  within  narrower 
limits.  Under  these  sovereigns,  the  various  petty 
kingdoms  of  Spain  began  to  feel  and  act  as  one 
nation,  and  to  rise  to  eminence  in  arts  as  well  as 
arms.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  it  has  been  re- 
marked, lived  together  not  like  man  and  wife, 
whose  estates  are  common,  under  the  orders  of 
the  husband,  but  like  two  monarchs  strictly 
allied.*  They  had  separate  claims  to  sovereignty, 
in  virtue  of  their  respective  kingdoms  ;  they  had 
separate  councils,  and  were  often  distant  from 
each  other  in  different  parts  of  their  empire,  each 
exercising  the  royal  authority.  Yet  they  were  so 
happily  united  by  common  views,  common  inter- 
ests, and  a  great  deference  for  each  other,  that 
this  double  administration  never  prevented  a 
unity  of  purpose  and  of  action.  All  acts  of  sov- 
ereignty were  executed  in  both  their  names  ;  all 
public  writings  were  subscribed  with  both  their 
signatures  ;  their  likenesses  were  stamped  to- 
gether on  the  public  coin  ;  and  the  royal  seal  dis- 
played the  united  arms  of  Castile  and  Arragon. 

Ferdinand  was  of  the  middle  stature,  well  pro- 
portioned, and  hardy  and  active  from  athletic  ex- 
ercise. His  carriage  was  free,  erect,  and  majes- 
tic. He  had  a  clear,  serene  forehead,  which  ap- 
peared more  •  lofty  from  his  head  being  partly 
bald.  His  eyebrows  were  large  and  parted,  and, 
like  his  hair,  of  a  bright  chestnut  ;  his  eyes  were 
clear  and  animated  ;  his  complexion  was  some- 
what ruddy,  and  scorched  by  the  toils  of  war  ;  his 
mouth  moderate,  well  formed,  and  gracious  in  its 
expression  ;  his  teeth  white,  though  small  and  ir- 
regular ;  his  voice  sharp  ;  his  speech  quick  and 
fluent.  His  genius  was  clear  and  comprehen- 
sive ;  his  judgment  grave  and  certain.  He  was 
simple  in  dress  and  diet,  equable  in  his  temper, 
devout  in  his  religion,  and  so  indefatigable  in  busi- 
ness, that  it  was  said  he  seemed  to  repose  him- 
self by  working.  He  was  a  great  observer  and 
judge  of  men,  and  unparalleled  in  the  science  of 
the  cabinet.  Such  is  the  picture  given  of  him  by 
the  Spanish  historians  of  his  time.  It  has  been 
added,  however,  that  he  had  more  of  bigotry  than 
religion  ;  that  his  ambition  was  craving  rather 
than  magnanimous  ;  that  he  made  war  less  like 
a  paladin  than  a  prince,  less  for  glory  than  for 
mere  dominion  ;  and  that  his  policy  was  cold, 
selfish,  and  artful.  He  was  called  the  wise  and 
prudent  in  Spain  ;  in  Italy,  the  pious  ;  in  F ranee 
and  England,  the  ambitious  and  perfidious. f  He 
certainly  was  one  of  the  most  subtle  statesmen, 
but  one  of  the  most  thorough  egotists  that  ever 
sat  upon  a  throne. 

While  giving  his  picture,  it  may  not  be  deemed 
impertinent  to  sketch  the  fortunes  of  a  monarch 
whose  policy  had  such  an  effect  upon  the  history 
of  Columbus  and  the  destinies  of  the  New  World. 
Success  attended  all  his  measures.  Though  a 
younger  son,  he  had  ascended  the  throne  of  Ar- 
ragon by  inheritance  ;  Castile  he  obtained  by 
marriage  ;  Granada  and  Naples  by  conquest  ; 
and  he  seized  upon  Navarre  as  appertaining  to 
any  one  who  could  take  possession  of  it,  when 
Pope  Julius  II.  excommunicated  its  sovereigns, 


*  Voltaire,  Essai  sur  les  Mceurs,  etc. 
f  Ibid.,  ch.  14. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


Juan  and  Catalina,  and  gave  their  throne  to  the 
first  occupant.*  He  sent  his  forces  into  Africa, 
and  subjugated  or  reduced  to  vassalage,  Tunis! 
Tripoli,  Algiers,  and  most  of  the  Barbary  powers. 
A  new  world  was  also  given  to  him,  without  cost, 
by  the  discoveries  of  Columbus,  for  the  expense  of 
the  enterprise  was  borne  exclusively  by  his  con- 
sort Isabella.  He  had  three  objects  at  heart  from 
the  commencement  of  his  reign,  which  he  pur- 
sued with  bigoted  and  persecuting  zeal  :  the  con- 
quest of  the  Moors,  the  expulsion  of  the  Jews,  and 
the  establishment  of  the  Inquisition  in  his  domin- 
ions. He  accomplished  them  all,  and  was  re- 
warded by  Pope  Innocent  VIII.  with  the  appella- 
tion of  Most  Catholic  Majesty— a  title  which  his 
successors  have  tenaciously  retained. 

Contemporary  writers  have  been  enthusiastic  in 
their  descriptions  of  Isabella,  but  time  has  sanc- 
tioned their  eulogies.  She  is  one  of  the  purest  and 
most  beautiful  characters  in  the  pages  of  history. 
She  was  well  formed,  of  the  middle  size,  with 
great  dignity  and  gracefulness  of  deportment, 
and  a  mingled  gravity  and  sweetness  of  demean- 
or. Her  complexion  was  fair  ;  her  hair  auburn, 
inclining  to  red  ;  her  eyes  were  of  a  clear  blue! 
with  a  benign  expression,  and  there  was  a  singu- 
lar modesty  in  her  countenance,  gracing,  as  it 
did,  a  wonderful  firmness  of  purpose  and  earnest- 
ness of  spirit.  Though  strongly  attached  to  her 
husband  and  studious  of  his  fame,  yet  she  always 
maintained  her  distinct  rights  as  an  allied  prince. 
She  exceeded  him  in  beauty,  in  personal  dignity, 
in  acuteness  of  genius,  and  in  grandeur  of  soul.f 
Combining  the  active  and  resolute  qualities  of 
man  with  the  softer  charities  of  woman,  she 
mingled  in  the  warlike  councils  of  her  husband, 
engaged  personally  in  his  enterprises,*  and  in 
some  instances  surpassed  him  in  the  firmness  and 
intrepidity  of  her  measures  ;  while,  being  inspired 
with  a  truer  idea  of  glory,  she  infused  a  more 
lofty  and  generous  temper  into  his  subtle  and  cal- 
culating policy. 

It  is  in  the  civil  history  of  their  reign,  however, 
that  the  character  of  Isabella  shines  most  illus- 
trious. Her  fostering  and  maternal  care  was 
continually  directed  to  reform  the  laws,  and  heal 
the  ills  engendered  by  a  long  course  of  internal 
wars.  She  loved  her  people,  and  whjle  diligently 
seeking  their  good,  she  mitigated,  as  much  as 
possible,  the  harsh  measures  of  her  husband,  di- 
rected to  the  same  end,  but  inflamed  by  a  mista- 
ken zeal.  Thus,  though  almost  bigoted  in  her 
piety,  and  perhaps  too  much  under  the  influence 
of  ghostly  advisers,  still  she  was  hostile  to  every 
measure  calculated  to  advance  religion  at  the  ex- 
pense of  humanity.  She  strenuously  opposed  the 
expulsion  of  the  Jews  and  the  establishment  of  the 
Inquisition,  though,  unfortunately  for  Spain,  her 
repugnance  was  slowly  vanquished  by  her  con- 
fessors. She  was  always  an  advocate  for  clem- 
ency to  the  Moors,  although  she  was  the  soul  of 
the  war  against  Granada.  She  considered  that 
war  essential  to  protect  the  Christian  faith,  and  to 
relieve  her  subjects  from  fierce  and  formidable 
enemies.  While  all  her  public  thoughts  and  acts 


*  Pedro  Salazar  di  Mendoza,  Monarq.  de  Esp.  lib. 
iii.  cap.  5.  (Madrid,  1770,  torn.  i.  p.  402.)  Gonzalo 
de  Illescas,  Hist.  Pontif.  lib.  vi.  cap.  23,  §  3. 

f  Garibay,  Hist,  de  Espafia,  torn.  ii.  lib.  xviii. 
cap.  r. 

\  Several  suits  of  armor cap-a-pi/,  worn  by  Isabella, 
and  still  preserved  in  the  royal  arsenal  at  Madrid, 
show  that  she  was  exposed  to  personal  danger  in  her 
campaigns. 


were  princely  and  august,  her  private  habits  were 
simple,  frugal,  and  unostentatious.  In  the  inter- 
vals of  state  business,  she  assembled  round  her 
the  ablest  men  in  literature  and  science,  and  di- 
rected herself  by  their  counsels,  in  promoting  let- 
ters and  arts.  Through  her  patronage,  Salaman- 
ca rose  to  that  height  which  it  assumed  among 
the  learned  institutions  of  the  age.  She  promoted 
the  distribution  of  honors  and  rewards  for  the  pro- 
mulgation of  knowledge  ;  she  fostered  the  art  of 
printing  recently  invented,  and  encouraged  the 
establishment  of  presses  in  every  part  of  the  king- 
dom ;  books  were  admitted  free  of  all  duty,  and 
more,  we  are  told,  were  printed  in  Spain,  at  that 
early  period  ol  the  art,  than  in  the  present  literary 
age.* 

It  is  wonderful  how  much  the  destinies  of  coun- 
tries depend  at  times  upon  the  virtues  of  individ- 
uals, and  how  it  is  given  to  great  spirits  by  com- 
bining, exciting,  and  directing  the  latent  powers 
of  a  nation,  to  stamp  it,  as  it  were,  with  their  own 
greatness.  Such  beings  realize  the  idea  of  guard- 
ian angels,  appointed  by  Heaven  to  watch  over 
the  destinies  of  empires.  Such  had  been  Prince 
Henry  for  the  kingdom  of  Portugal  ;  and  such 
was  now  for  Spain  the  illustrious  Isabella. 


CHAPTER  II. 

COLUMBUS   AT  THE  COURT  OF  SPAIN. 

WHEN  Columbus  arrived  at  Cordova  he  was 
given  in  charge  to  Alonzo  de  Quintanilla,  comp- 
troller of  the  treasury  of  Castile,  but  was  disap- 
pointed in  his  expectation  of  receiving  immediate 
audience  from  the  queen.  He  found  the  city  in 
all  the  bustle  of  military  preparation.  It  was  a 
critical  juncture  of  the  war.  The  rival  kings  of 
Granada,  Muley,  Boabdil  the  uncle,  and  Moham- 
med Boabdil  the  nephew,  had  just  formed  a  coali- 
tion, and  their  league  called  for  prompt  and  vig- 
orous measures. 

All  the  chivalry  of  Spain  had  been  summoned 
to  the  field  ;  the  streets  of  Cordova  echoed  to  the 
tramp  of  steed  and  sound  of  trumpet,  as  day  by 
clay  the  nobles  arrived  with  their  retainers,  vying 
with  each  other  in  the  number  of  their  troops  and 
the  splendor  of  their  appointments.  The  court 
was  like  a  military  camp  ;  the  king  and  queen 
were  surrounded  by  the  flower  of  Spanish  chiv- 
alry ;  by  those  veteran  cavaliers  who  had  distin- 
guished themselves  in  so  many  hardy  conflicts  with 
the  Moors,  and  by  the  prelates  and  friars  who 
mingled  in  martial  council,  and  took  deep  interest 
and  agency  in  this  war  of  the  Faith. 

This  was  an  unpropitious  moment  to  urge  a 
suit  like  that  of  Columbus.  In  fact  the  sovereigns 
nad  not  a  moment  of  leisure  throughout  this  event- 
ful year.  Early  in  the  spring,  the  king  marched 
off  to  lay  siege  to  the  Moorish  city  of  Loxa  ;  and 
though  the  queen  remained  at  Cordova,  she  was 
continually  employed  in  forwarding  troops  and 
supplies  to  the  army,  and,  at  the  same  time,  at- 
tending to  the  multiplied  exigencies  of  civil  gov- 
ernment. On  the  1 2th  of  June  she  repaired  to 
the  camp,  then  engaged  in  the  siege  of  Moclin, 
and  both  sovereigns  remained  for  some  time  in 
the  Vega  of  Granada,  prosecuting  the  war  with 
unremitting  vigor.  They  had  barely  returned  to 
Cordova  to  celebrate  their  victories  by  public  re- 


*  Elogio  de  la  Reina  Catholica,  por  Diego  Clemen* 
cin.     Madrid,  1821. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


joicings,  when  they  were  obliged  to  set  out  for 
Gallicia,  to  suppress  a  rebellion  of  the  Count  of 
Lemos.  Thence  they  repaired  to  Salamanca  for 
the  winter. 

During  the  summer  and  autumn  of  this  year 
Columbus  remained  at  Cordova,  a  guest  in  the 
house  of  Alonzo  de  Ouintanilla,  who  proved  a 
warm  advocate  of  his  theory.  Through  his  means 
he  became  acquainted  with  Antonio  Geraldini, 
the  pope's  nuncio,  and  his  brother  Alexander  Ger- 
aldini, preceptor  to  the  younger  children  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella  ;  both  valuable  friends  about 
court.  Wherever  he  obtained  a  candid  hearing 
from  intelligent  auditors,  the  dignity  of  his  man- 
ners, his  earnest  sincerity,  the  elevation  of  his 
views,  and  the  practical  shrewdness  of  his  dem- 
onstrations, commanded  respect  even  where  they 
failed  to  produce  conviction. 

While  thus  lingering  in  idle  suspense  in  Cor- 
dova, he  became  attached  to  a  lady  of  the  city, 
Beatrix  Euriquez  by  name,  of  a  noble  family, 
though  in  reduced  circumstances.  Their  con- 
nection was  not  sanctioned  by  marriage  ;  yet 
he  cherished  sentiments  of  respect  and  tender- 
ness for  her  to  his  dying  day.  She  was  the 
mother  of  his  second  son,  Fernando,  born  in 
the  following  year  (1487),  whom  he  always  treat- 
ed on  terms  of  perfect  equality  with  his  legiti- 
mate son  Diego,  and  who,  after  his  death,  be- 
came his  historian. 

In  the  winter  Columbus  followed  the  court  to 
Salamanca.  Here  his  zealous  friend,  Alonzo  de 
Quintanilla,  exerted  his  influence  to  obtain  for 
him  the  countenance  of  the  celebrated  Pedro 
Gonzalez  de  Mendoza,  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  and 
Grand  Cardinal  of  Spain.  This  was  the  most  im- 
portant personage  about  the  court  ;  and  was  fa- 
cetiously called  by  Peter  Martyr,  the  "  third  king 
of  Spain."  The  king  and  queen  had  him  always 
by  their  side  in  peace  and  war.  He  accompanied 
them  in  their  campaigns,  and  they  never  took  any 
measure  of  consequence  without  consulting  him. 
He  was  a  man  of  sound  judgment  and  quick  intel- 
lect, eloquent  in  conversation,  and  able  in  the  dis- 
patch of  business.  His  appearance  was  lofty  and 
venerable  ;  he  was  simple  yet  curiously  nice  in  his 
apparel,  and  of  gracious  and  gentle  deportment. 
Though  an  elegant  scholar,  yet,  like  many  learn- 
ed men  of  his  day,  he  was  but  little  skilled  in  cos- 
mography. When  the  theory  of  Columbus  was 
first  mentioned  to  him,  it  struck  him  as  involving 
heterodox  opinions,  incompatible  with  the  form  of 
the  earth  as  described  in  the  Sacred  Scriptures. 
Further  explanations  had  their  force  with  a  man 
of  his  quick  apprehension  and  sound  sense.  He 
perceived  that  at  any  rate  there  could  be  nothing 
irreligious  in  attempting  to  extend  the  bounds  of 
human  knowledge,  and  to  ascertain  the  works  of 
creation  :  his  scruples  once  removed,  he  permitted 
Columbus  to  be  introduced  to  him,  and  gave  him 
a  courteous  reception.  The  latter  knew  the  im- 
portance of  his  auditor,  and  that  a  conference  with 
the  grand  cardinal  was  almost  equivalent  to  a 
communication  with  the  throne  ;  he  exerted  him- 
self to  the  utmost,  therefore,  to  explain  and 
demonstrate  his  proposition.  The  clear-headed 
cardinal  listened  with  profound  attention.  He 
was  pleased  with  the  noble  and  earnest  manner 
of  Columbus,  which  showed  him  to  be  no  com- 
mon schemer  ;  he  felt  the  grandeur,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  the  simplicity  of  his  theory,  and  the 
force  of  many  of  the  arguments  by  which  it  was 
supported.  He  determined  that  it  was  a  matter 
highly  worthy  of  the  consideration  of  the  sov- 
ereigns, and  through  his  representations  Colum- 


bus at  length  obtained  admission  to  the  royal 
presence.* 

We  have  but  scanty  particulars  of  this  audi- 
ence, nor  can  we  ascertain  whether  Queen  Isa- 
bella was  present  on  the  occasion  ;  the  contrary 
seems  to  be  most  probably  the  case.  Columbus 
appeared  in  the  royal  presence  with  modesty,  yet 
self-possession,  neither  dazzled  nor  daunted  by 
the  splendor  of  the  court  or  the  awful  majesty  of 
the  throne.  He  unfolded  his  plan  with  eloquence 
and  zeal,  for  he  felt  himself,  as  he  afterward  de- 
clared, kindled  as  with  a  fire  from  on  high,  and 
considered  himself  the  agent  chosen  by  Heaven 
to  accomplish  its  grand  designs.-)- 

Ferdinand  was  too  keen  a  judge  of  men  not  to 
appreciate  the  character  of  Columbus.  He  per- 
ceived that,  however  soaring  might  be  his  imagi- 
nation, and  vast  and  visionary  his  views,  his 
scheme  had  scientific  and  practical  foundation. 
His  ambition  was  excited  by  the  possibility  ot  dis- 
coveries far  more  important  than  those  which  had 
shed  such  glory  upon  Portugal  ;  and  perhaps  it 
was  not  the  least  recommendation  of  the  enter- 
prise to  this  subtle  and  grasping  monarch,  that, 
if  successful,  it  would  enable  him  to  forestall  that 
rival  nation  in  the  fruits  of  their  long  and  arduous 
struggle,  and  by  opening  a  direct  course  to  India 
across  the  ocean,  to  bear  off  from  them  the  mo- 
nopoly of  oriental  commerce. 

Still  as  usual,  Ferdinand  was  cool  and  wary, 
and  would  not  trust  his  own  judgment  in  a  matter 
that  involved  so  many  principles  of  science.  He 
determined  to  take  the  opinion  of  the  most  learned 
men  in  the  kingdom,  and  to  be  guided  by  their 
decision.  Fernando  de  Talavera,  prior  of  the 
monastery  of  Prado  and  confessor  of  the  queen, 
one  of  the  most  erudite  men  of  Spain,  and  high  in 
the  royal  confidence,  was  commanded  to  assem- 
ble the  most  learned  astronomers  and  cosmogra- 
phers  for  the  purpose  of  holding  a  conference  with 
Columbus,  and  examining  him  as  to  the  grounds 
on  which  he  founded  his  proposition.  After  they 
had  informed  themselves  fully  on  the  subject,  they 
were  to  consult  together  and  make  a  report  to  the 
sovereign  of  their  collective  opinion.]; 


CHAPTER    III. 

COLUMBUS   BEFORE  THE  COUNCIL   AT  SALA- 
MANCA. 

[I486.] 

THE  interesting  conference  relative  to  the 
proposition  of  Columbus  took  place  in  Salamanca, 
the  great  seat  of  learning  in  Spain.  It  was  held 
in  the  Dominican  convent  of  St.  Stephen,  in  which 
he  was  lodged  and  entertained  with  great  hospi- 
tality during  the  course  of  the  examination. f 

Religion  and  science  were  at  that  time,  and 
more  especially  in  that  country,  closely  associated. 
The  treasures  ot  learning  were  immured  in  mon- 
asteries, and  the  professors'  chairs  were  exclu- 
sively filled  from  the  cloister.  The  domination  of 
the  clergy  extended  over  the  state  as  well  as  the 
church,  and  posts  of  honor  and  influence  at  court, 
with  the  exception  of  hereditary  nobles,  were 
almost  entirely  confined  to  ecclesiastics.  It  was 


*  Oviedo,  lib.  ii.  cap.  4.     Salazar,  Cron.  G.  Cardi- 
nal, lib.  i.  cap.  62. 

•)•  Letler  to  the  Sovereigns  in  1501. 

J  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  xi. 

§  Hist,  de  Chiapa  por  Remesal,  lib.  ii.  cap.  27. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


25 


even  common  to  find  cardinals  and  bishops  in 
helm  and  corselet  at  the  head  of  armies  ;  for  the 
crosier  had  been  occasionally  thrown  by  for  the 
lance,  during  the  holy  war  against  the  Moors. 
The  era  was  distinguished  for  the  revival  of  learn- 
ing, but  still  more  for  the  prevalence  of  religious 
zeal,  and  Spain  surpassed  all  other  countries  of 
Christendom  in  the  fervor  of  her  devotion.  The 
Inquisition  had  just  been  established  in  that  king- 
dom, and  every  opinion  that  savored  of  heresy 
made  its  owner  obnoxious  to  odium  and  persecu- 
tion. 

Such  was  the  period  when  a  council  of  clerical 
sages  was  convened  in  the  collegiate  convent  of 
St.  Stephen,  to  investigate  the  new  theory  of  Co- 
lumbus. It  was  composed  of  professors  of  as- 
tronomy, geography,  mathematics,  and  other 
branches  of  science,  together  with  various  digni- 
taries of  the  church,  and  learned  friars.  Before 
this  erudite  assembly,  Columbus  presented  him- 
self to  piopound  and  defend  his  conclusions.  He 
had  been  scoffed  at  as  a  visionary  by  the  vulgar 
and  the  ignorant  ;  but  he  was  convinced  that  he 
only  required  a  body  of  enlightened  men  to  listen 
dispassionately  to  his  reasonings,  to  insure  trium- 
phant conviction. 

The  greater  part  of  this  learned  junto,  it  is  very 
probable,  came  prepossessed  against  him,  as  men 
in  place  and  dignity  are  apt  to  be  against  poor 
applicants.  There  is  always  a  proneness  to  con- 
sider a  man  under  examination  as  a  kind  of  delin- 
quent, or  impostor,  whose  faults  and  errors  are  to 
be  detected  and  exposed.  Columbus,  too,  ap- 
peared in  a  most  unfavorable  light  before  a 
scholastic  body  :  an  obscure  navigator,  a  member 
of  no  learned  institution,  destitute  of  all  the  trap- 
pings and  circumstances  wh>ch  sometimes  give 
oracular  authority  to  dullness,  and  depending 
upon  the  mere  force  of  natural  genius.  Some  of 
the  junto  entertained  the  popular  notion  that  he 
was  an  adventurer,  or  at  best  a  visionary  ;  and 
others  had  that  morbid  impatience  of  any  inno- 
vation upon  established  doctrine,  which  is  apt  to 
grow  upon  dull  and  pedantic  men  in  cloistered 
life. 

What  a  striking  spectacle  must  the  hall  of  the 
old  convent  have  presented  at  this  memorable 
conference  !  A  simple  mariner,  standing  forth  in 
the  midst  of  an  imposing  array  of  professors, 
friars,  and  dignitaries  of  the  church  ;  maintaining 
his  theory  with  natural  eloquence,  and,  as  it  were, 
pleading  the  cause  of  the  new  world.  We  are 
told  that  when  he  began  to  state  the  grounds  of 
his  belief,  the  friars  of  St.  Stephen  alone  paid 
attention  to  him  ;  *  that  convent  being  more 
learned  in  the  sciences  than  the  rest  of  the  uni- 
versity. The  others  appear  to  have  intrenched 
themselves  behind  one  dogged  position  that,  after 
so  many  profound  philosophers  and  cosmogra- 
phers  had  been  studying  the  form  of  the  world, 
and  so  many  able  navigators  had  been  sailing 
about  it  for  several  thousand  years,  it  was  great 
presumption  in  an  ordinary  man  to  suppose  that 
there  remained  such  a  vast  discovery  for  him  to 
make. 

Several  of  the  objections  proposed  by  this 
learned  body  have  been  handed  down  to  us,  and 
have  provoked  many  a  sneer  at  the  expense  of  the 
university  of  Salamanca  ;  but  they  are  proofs,  not 
so  much  of  the  peculiar  deficiency  of  that  institu- 
tion, as  of  the  imperfect  state  of  science  at  the 
time,  and  the  manner  in  which  knowledge,  though 
rapidly  extending,  was  still  impeded  in  its  prog- 

*  Remesal,  Hist,  de  Chiapa,  lib.  xi.  cap.  7. 


ress  by  monastic  bigotry.  All  subjects  were  still 
contemplated  through  the  obscure  medium  of 
those  ages  when  the  lights  of  antiquity  were  tram- 
pled out  and  faith  was  left  to  fill  the  place  of 
inquiry.  Bewildered  in  a  maze  of  religious  con- 
troversy, mankind  had  retraced  their  steps,  and 
receded  from  the  boundary  line  of  ancient  knowl- 
edge. Thus,  at  the  very  threshold  of  the  discus- 
sion, instead  of  geographical  objections,  Colum- 
bus was  assailed  with  citations  from  the  Bible  and 
the  Testament  :  the  book  of  Genesis,  the  psalms 
of  David,  the  prophets,  the  epistles,  and  the  gos- 
pels. To  these  were  added  the  expositions  of 
various  saints  and  reverend  commentators  :  St. 
Chrysostom  and  St.  Augustine,  St.  Jerome  and 
St.  Gregory,  St.  Basil  and  St.  Ambrose,  and  Lac- 
tantius  Firmianus,  a  redoubted  champion  of  the 
faith.  Doctrinal  points  were  mixed  up  with  phil- 
osophical discussions,  and  a  mathematical  demon- 
stration was  allowed  no  weight,  if  it  appeared  to 
clash  with  a  text  of  Scripture  or  a  commentary 
of  one  of  the  fathers.  Thus  the  possibility  of  anti- 
podes, in  the  southern  hemisphere,  an  opinion  so 
generally  maintained  by  the  wisest  of  the  ancients 
as  to  be  pronounced  by  Pliny  the  great  contest  be- 
tween the  learned  and  the  ignorant,  became  a 
stumbling-block  with  some  of  the  sages  of  Sala- 
manca. Several  of  them  stoutly  contradicted  this 
fundamental  position  of  Columbus,  supporting 
themselves  by  quotations  from  Lactantius  and  St. 
Augustine,  who  were  considered  in  those  clays  as 
almost  evangelical  authority.  But,  though  these 
writers  were  men  of  consummate  erudition,  and 
two  of  the  greatest  luminaries  of  what  has  been 
called  the  golden  age  of  ecclesiastical  learning,  yet 
their  writings  were  calculated  to  perpetuate  dark- 
ness in  respect  to  the  sciences. 

The  passage  cited  from  Lactantius  to  confute 
Columbus  is  in  a  strain  of  gross  ridicule,  un- 
worthy of  so  grave  a  theologian.  "  Is  there  any 
one  so  foolish,"  he  asks,  "  as  to  believe  that  there 
are  antipodes  with  their  feet  opposite  to  ours  : 
people  who  walk  with  their  heels  upward,  and 
their  heads  hanging  down  ?  That  there  is  a  part 
of  the  world  in  which  all  things  are  topsy-turvy  : 
where  the  trees  grow  with  their  branches  down- 
ward, and  where  it  rains,  hails,  and  snows  up- 
ward ?  The  idea  of  the  roundness  of  the  earth," 
he  adds,  "  was  the  cause  of  inventing  this  fable 
of  the  antipodes,  with  their  heels  in  the  air  ;  for 
these  philosophers,  having  once  erred,  go  on  In' 
their  absurdities,  defending  one  with  another." 

Objections  of  a  graver  nature  were  advanced  on 
the  authority  of  St.  Augustine.  He  pronounces 
the  doctrine  of  antipodes  to  be  incompatible  with 
the  historical  foundations  of  our  faith  ;  since,  to 
assert  that  there  were  inhabited  lands  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  globe  would  be  to  maintain  that 
there  were  nations  not  descended  from  Adam,  it 
being  impossible  for  them  to  have  passed  the  in- 
tervening ocean.  This  would  be,  therefore,  to 
discredit  the  Bible,  which  expressly  declares  that 
all  men  are  descended  from  one  common  parent. 

Such  were  the  unlooked  for  prejudices  which 
Columbus  had  to  encounter  at  the  very  outset  of 
his  conference,  and  which  certainly  relish  more 
of  the  convent  than  the  university.  To  his  sim- 
plest proposition,  the  spherical  form  of  the  earth, 
were  opposed  figurative  texts  of  Scripture.  They 
observed  that  in  the  Psalms  the  heavens  are  said 
to  be  extended  like  a  hide,*  that  is,  according  to 
commentators,  the  curtain  or  covering  of  a  tent, 


*  Extendens  coelum  sicut  pellem.     Psalm  103.     In 
the  English  translation  it  is  Psalm  104,  ver.  3. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


which,  among  the  ancient  pastoral  nations,  was 
formed  of  the  hides  of  animals  ;  and  that  St. 
Paul,  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  compares  the 
heavens  to  a  tabernacle,  or  tent,  extended  over 
the  earth,  which  they  thence  inferred  must  be  flat. 

Columbus,  who  was  a  devoutly  religious  man, 
found  that  he  was  in  danger  of  being  convicted 
not  merely  of  error,  but  of  heterodoxy.  Others 
more  versed  in  science  admitted  the  globular  form 
of  the  earth,  and  the  possibility  of  an  opposite  and 
habitable  hemisphere  ;  but  they  brought  up  the 
chimera  of  the  ancients,  and  maintained  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  arrive  there,  in  conse- 
squence  of  the  insupportable  heat  of  the  torrid 
zone.  Even  granting  this  could  be  passed,  they 
observed  that  the  circumference  of  the  earth  must 
be  so  great  as  to  require  at  least  three  years  to 
the  voyage,  and  those  who  should  undertake  it 
must  perish  of  hunger  and  thirst,  from  the  impos- 
sibility of  carrying  provisions  for  so  long  a  period. 
He  was  told,  on  the  authority  of  Epicurus,  that 
admitting  the  earth  to  be  spherical,  it  was  only 
inhabitable  in  the  northern  hemisphere,  and  in 
that  section  only  was  canopied  by  the  heavens  ; 
that  the  opposite  half  was  a  chaos,  a  gulf,  or  a 
mere  waste  of  water.  Not  the  least  absurd  objec- 
tion advanced  was,  that  should  a  ship  even  suc- 
ceed in  reaching,  in  this  way,  the  extremity  of 
India,  she  could  never  get  back  again  ;  for  the 
rotundity  of  the  globe  would  present  a  kind  of 
mountain,  up  which  it  would  be  impossible  lor 
her  to  sail  with  the  most  favorable  wind.* 

Such  are  specimens  of  the  errors  and  prejudices, 
the  mingled  ignorance  and  erudition,  and  the 
pedantic  bigotry,  with  which  Columbus  had  to 
contend  throughout  the  examination  of  his  theory. 
Can  we  wonder  at  the  difficulties  and  delays  which 
he  experienced  at  courts,  when  such  vague  and 
crude  notions  were  entertained  by  the  learned 
men  of  a  university  ?  We  must  not  suppose,  how- 
ever, because  the  objections  here  cited  are  all 
which  remain  on  record,  that  they  are  all  which 
were  advanced  ;  these  only  have  been  perpetuated 
on  account  of  their  superior  absurdity.  They 
were  probably  advanced  by  but  few,  and  those 
persons  immersed  in  theological  studies,  in  clois- 
tered retirement,  where  the  erroneous  opinions 
derived  from  books  had  little  opportunity  of  being 
corrected  by  the  experience  of  the  day. 

There  were  no  doubt  objections  advanced  more 
cogent  in  their  nature,  and  more  worthy  of  that 
distinguished  university.  It  is  but  justice  to  add, 
also,  that  the  replies  of  Columbus  had  great  weight 
with  many  of  his  learned  examiners.  In  answer 
to  the  scriptural  objections,  he  submitted  that  the 
inspired  writers  were  not  speaking  technically  as 
cosmographers,  but  figuratively,  in  language  ad- 
dressed to  all  comprehensions.  The  commenta- 
ries of  the  fathers  he  treated  with  deference  as 
pious  homilies,  but  not  as  philosophical  proposi- 
tions which  it  was  necessary  either  to  admit  or 
refute.  The  objections  drawn  from  ancient  phi- 
losophers he  met  boldly  and  ably  upon  equal 
terms  ;  for  he  was  deeply  studied  on  all  points  of 
cosmography.  He  showed  that  the  most  illustri- 
ous of  those  sages  believed  both  hemispheres  to  be 
inhabitable,  though  they  imagined  that  the  torrid 
zone  precluded  communication  ;  and  he  obviated 
conclusively  that  difficulty  ;  for  he  had  voyaged 
to  St.  George  la  Mina  in  Guinea,  almost  under  the 
equinoctial  line,  and  had  found  that  region  not 
merely  traversable,  but  abounding  in  population, 
in  fruits  and  pasturage. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  n. 


When  Columbus  took  his  stand  before  this 
learned  body,  he  had  appeared  the  plain  and  sim- 
ple navigator ;  somewhat  daunted,  perhaps,  by 
the  greatness  of  his  task  and  the  august  nature  of 
his  auditory.  But  he  had  a  degree  of  religious 
feeling  which  gave  him  a  confidence  in  the  execu- 
tion of  what  he  conceived  his  great  errand,  and 
he  was  of  an  ardent  temperament  that  became 
heated  in  action  by  its  own  generous  fires.  Las 
Casas,  and  others  of  his  contemporaries,  have 
spoken  of  his  commanding  person,  his  elevated 
demeanor,  his  air  of  authority,  his  kindling  eye, 
and  the  persuasive  intonations  of  his  voice.  How 
must  they  have  given  majesty  and  force  to  his 
words,  as,  casting  aside  his  maps  and  charts,  and 
discarding  for  a  time  his  practical  and  scientific 
lore,  his  visionary  spirit  took  fire  at  the  doctrinal 
objections  of  his  opponents,  and  he  met  them 
upon  their  own  ground,  pouring  forth  those  mag- 
nificent texts  of  Scripture,  and  those  mysterious 
predictions  of  the  prophets,  which,  in  his  enthusi- 
astic moments,  he  considered  as  types  and  an- 
nunciations of  the  sublime  discovery  which  he 
proposed  ! 

Among  the  number  who  were  convinced  by  the 
reasoning,  and  warmed  by  the  eloquence  of  Co- 
lumbus, was  Diego  de  Deza,  a  worthy  and  learned 
friar  of  the  order  of  St.  Dominick,  at  that  time 
professor  of  theology  in  the  convent  of  St.  Stephen, 
but  who  became  afterward  Archbishop  of  Seville, 
the  second  ecclesiastical  dignitary  of  Spain.  This 
able  and  erudite  divine  was  a  man  whose  mind 
was  above  the  narrow  bigotry  of  bookish  lore  ; 
one  who  could  appreciate  the  value  of  wisdom 
even  when  uttered  by  unlearned  lips.  He  was 
not  a  mere  passive  auditor  :  he  took  a  generous 
interest  in  the  cause,  and  by  seconding  Columbus 
with  all  his  powers,  calmed  the  blind  zeal  of  his 
more  bigoted  brethren  so  as  to  obtain  for  him  a 
dispassionate,  if  not  an  unprejudiced,  hearing. 
By  their  united  efforts,  it  is  said,  they  brought 
over  the  most  learned  men  of  the  schools.*  One 
great  difficulty  was  to  reconcile  the  plan  of  Co- 
lumbus with  the  cosmography  of  Ptolemy,  to  which 
all  scholars  yielded  implicit  faith.  How  would 
the  most  enlightened  of  those  sages  have  been  as- 
tonished, had  any  one  apprised  them  that  the 
man,  Copernicus,  was  then  in  existence,  whose 
solar  system  should  reverse  the  grand  theory  of 
Ptolemy,  which  stationed  the  earth  in  the  centre 
of  the  universe  ! 

Notwithstanding  every  exertion,  however,  there 
was  a  preponderating  mass  of  inert  bigotry  and 
learned  pride  in  this  erudite  body,  which  refused 
to  yield  to  the  demonstrations  of  an  obscure  for- 
eigner, without  fortune  or  connections,  or  any 
academic  honors.  "  It  was  requisite,"  s^tys  Las 
Casas,  "  before  Columbus  could  make  his  solu- 
tions and  reasonings  understood,  that  he  should 
remove  from  his  auditors  those  erroneous  princi- 
ples on  which  their  objections  were  founded  ;  a 
task  always  more  difficult  than  that  of  teaching 
the  doctrine."  Occasional  conferences  took  place, 
but  without  producing  any  decision.  The  igno- 
rant, or  what  is  worse,  the  prejudiced,  remained 
obstinate  in  their  opposition,  with  the  dogged 
perseverance  of  dull  men  ;  the  more  liberal  and 
intelligent  felt  little  interest  in  discussions  weari- 
some in  themselves,  and  foreign  to  their  ordinary 
pursuits  ;  even  those  who  listened  with  approba- 
tion to  the  plan,  regarded  it  only  as  a  delightful 
vision,  full  of  probability  and  promise,  but  one 
which  never  could  be  realized.  Fernando  de 


*  Remesal,  Hist,  de  Chiapa,  lib.  xi.  cap.  7. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES    OF   COLUMBUS. 


!T 


Talavera,  to  whom  the  matter  was  especially  in- 
trusted, had  too  little  esteem  for  it,  and  was  too 
much  occupied  with  the  stir  and  bustle  of  public 
concerns,  to  press  it  to  a  conclusion  ;  and  thus 
the  inquiry  experienced  continual  procrastination 
and  neglect. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

FURTHER  APPLICATIONS  AT  THE  COURT  OF  CAS- 
TILK. — «>I  U.MBUS  FOLLOWS  THE  COURT  IN  ITS 
CAMPAIGNS. 

THE  Castilian  court  departed  from  Salamanca 
early  in  the  spring  of  1487  and  repaired  to  Cor- 
dova, to  prepare  for  the  memorable  campaign 
against  Malaga.  Fernando  de  Talavera,  now 
Bishop  of  Avila,  accompanied  the  queen  as  her 
confessor,  and  as  one  of  her  spiritual  counsellors 
in  the  concerns  of  the  war.  The  consultations  of 
the  board  at  Salamanca  were  interrupted  by  this 
event,  before  that  learned  body  could  come  to  a 
decision,  and  for  a  long  time  Columbus  was 
kept  in  suspense,  vainly  awaiting  the  report  that 
was  to  decide  the  fate  of  his  application. 

It  has  generally  been  supposed  that  the  several 
years  which  he  wasted  in  irksome  solicitation 
were  spent  in  the  drowsy  and  monotonous  attend- 
ance ot  antechambers  ;  but  it  appears,  on  the 
contrary,  that  they  were  often  passed  amid  scenes 
of  peril  and  adventure,  and  that,  in  following 
up  his  suit,  he  was  led  into  some  of  the  most 
striking  situations  of  this  wild,  rugged,  and 
mountain-jus  war.  Several  times  he  was  sum- 
moned to  attend  conferences  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
sovereigns,  when  besieging  cities  in  the  very  heart 
of  the  Moorish  dominions  ;  but  the  tempest  of 
warlike  affairs  which  hurried  the  court  from  place 
to  place  and  gave  it  all  the  bustle  and  confusion 
of  a  camp,  prevented  those  conferences  from  tak- 
ing plare,  and  swept  away  all  concerns  that  were 
not  immediately  connected  with  the  war.  When- 
ever the  court  had  an  interval  ot  leisure  and  re- 
pose, there  would  again  be  manifested  a  disposi- 
tion to  consider  his  proposal,  but  the  hurry  and 
tempest  would  again  return  and  the  question  be 
again  swept  away. 

The  spring  campaign  of  1487,  which  took  place 
shortly  after  the  conference  at  Salamanca,  was 
full  of  incident  and  peril.  King  Ferdinand  had 
nearly  been  surprised  and  cut  off  by  the  old 
Moorish  monarch  before  Velez  Malaga,  and  the 
queen  and  all  the  court  at  Cordova  were  for  a 
time  in  an  agony  of  terror  and  suspense  until  as- 
sured of  his  safety. 

When  the  sovereigns  were  subsequently  en- 
camped before  the  city  of  Malaga,  pressing  its 
memorable  siege,  Columbus  was  summoned  to 
the  court.  He  found  it  drawn  up  in  its  silken  pa- 
vilions on  a  rising  ground,  commanding  the  fer- 
tile valley  ot  Malaga  ;  the  encampments  ot  the 
warlike  nobility  of  Spain  extended  in  a  semicircle 
on  each  side,  to  the  shores  of  the  sea,  strongly 
fortified,  glittering  with  the  martial  pomp  of  that 
chivalrous  age  and  nation,  and  closely  investing 
that  important  city. 

The  siege  was  protracted  for  several  months, 
but  the  vigorous  defence  of  the  Moors,  their  nu- 
merous stratagems,  and  fierce  and  frequent  sal- 
lies, allowed  but  little  leisure  in  the  camp.  In 
the  course  of  this  siege,  the  application  of  Co- 
lumbus to  the  sovereigns  was  nearly  brought  to  a 
violent  close  ;  a  fanatic  Moor  having  attempted 
to  assassinate  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  Mistak- 


ing one  of  the  gorgeous  pavilions  of  the  nobility 
for  the  royal  tent,  he  attacked  Don  Alvaro  de 
Portugal,  and  Dofia  Beatrix  de  Bobadilla,  Mar- 
chioness of  Moya,  instead  of  the  king  and  queen. 
After  wounding  Don  Alvaro  dangerously,  he  was 
foiled  in  a  blow  aimed  at  the  marchioness,  and 
immediately  cut  to  pieces  by  the  attendants.* 
The  lady  here  mentioned  was  of  extraordinary 
merit  and  force  of  character.  She  eventually  took 
a  great  interest  in  the  suit  of  Columbus,  and  had 
much  influence  in  recommending  it  to  the  queen, 
with  whom  she  was  a  particular  favorite. f 

Malaga  surrendered  on  the  i8th  of  August, 
1487.  There  appears  to  have  been  no  time  dur- 
ing its  stormy  siege  to  attend  to  the  question  of 
Columbus,  though  Fernando  de  Talavera,  the 
Bishop  of  Avila,  was  present,  as  appears  by  his 
entering  the  captured  city  in  solemn  and  religious 
triumph.  The  campaign  being  ended,  the  court 
returned  to  Cordova,  but  was  almost  immediaiely 
driven  from  that  city  by  the  pestilence. 

For  upward  of  a  year  the  court  was  in  a  state 
of  continual  migration  ;  part  of  the  time  in  Sara- 
gossa,  part  of  the  time  invading  the  Moorish  ter- 
ritories by  the  way  of  Murcia,  and  part  of  the  time 
in  Valladolid  and  Medina  del  Campo.  Colum- 
bus attended  it  in  some  of  its  movements,  but  it 
was  vain  to  seek  a  quiet  and  attentive  hearing 
from  a  court  surrounded  by  the  din  of  arms  and 
continually  on  the  march.  Wearied  and  discour- 
aged by  these  delays,  he  began  to  think  of  apply- 
ing elsewhere  for  patronage,  and  appears  to  have 
commenced  negotiations  with  King  John  II.  for 
a  return  to  Portugal.  He  wrote  to  that  monarch 
on  the  subject,  and  received  a  letter  in  reply  dated 
2oth  of  March,  1488,  inviting  him  to  return  to  his 
court,  and  assuring  him  ot  protection  from  any 
suits  of  either  a  civil  or  criminal  nature,  that  might 
be  pending  against  him.  He  received  also  a  let- 
ter from  Henry  VII.  of  England,  inviting  him  to 
that  country,  and  holding  out  promises  of  encour- 
agement. 

There  must  have  been  strong  hopes,  authorized 
about  this  time  by  the  conduct  of  the  Spanish 
sovereigns,  to  induce  Columbus  to  neglect  these 
invitations  ;  and  we  find  ground  for  such  a  sup- 
position in  a  memorandum  of  a  sum  of  money 
paid  to  him  by  the  treasurer  Gonzalez,  to  enable 
him  to  comply  with  a  summons  to,attend  the  Cas- 
tilian court.  By  the  date  of  this  memorandum, 
the  payment  must  have  been  made  immediately 
after  Columbus  had  received  the  letter  of  the 
King  of  Portugal.  It  would  seem  to  have  been 
the  aim  of  King  Ferdinand  to  prevent  his  carry- 
ing his  proposition  to  another  and  a  rival  mon- 
arch, and  to  keep  the  matter  in  suspense,  until 
he  should  have  leisure  to  examine  it,  and,  if  ad- 
visable, to  carry  it  into  operation. 

In  the  spring  of  1489  the  long-adjourned  inves- 
tigation appeared  to  be  on  the  eve  of  taking  place. 
Columbus  was  summoned  to  attend  a  conference 
of  learned  men,  to  be  held  in  the  city  of  Seville  ; 
a  royal  order  was  issued  for  lodgings  to  be  pro- 
vided for  him  there  ;  and  the  magistrates  of  all 
cities  and  towns  through  which  he  might  pass,  on 
his  way,  were  commanded  to  furnish  accommo- 
dations gratis  for  himself  and  his  attendants.  A 
provision  of  the  kind  was  necessary  in  those  days, 
when  even  the  present  wretched  establishments, 
called  posadas,  for  the  reception  of  travellers, 
were  scarcely  known. 

The   city  of  Seville    complied  with   the   royal 


*  Pulgar,  Cronica,  cap.  87.     P.  Martyr. 

f  Retrato  del  Buen  Vassallo,  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


command,  but  as  usual  the  appointed  conference 
was  postponed,  being  interrupted  by  the  opening 
of  a  campaign,  "  in  which,"  says  an  old  chroni- 
cler of  the  place,  "  the  same  Columbus  was  found 
fighting,  giving  proofs  of  the  distinguished  valor 
which  accompanied  his  wisdom  and  his  lofty  de- 
sires."* 

The  campaign  in  which  Columbus  is  here  said 
to  have  borne  so  honorable  a  part  was  one  of  the 
most  glorious  of  the  war  of  Granada.  Queen  Is- 
abella attended  with  all  her  court,  including  as 
usual  a  stately  train  of  prelates  and  friars,  among 
whom  is  particularly  mentioned  the  procrastinat- 
ing arbiter  of  the  pretensions  of  Columbus,  Fer- 
nando de  Talavera.  Much  of  the  success  of  the 
campaign  is  ascribed  to  the  presence  and  counsel 
of  Isabella.  The  city  of  Baza,  which  was  closely 
besieged  and  had  resisted  valiantly  for  upward  of 
six  months,  surrendered  soon  after  her  arrival  ; 
and  on  the  22d  of  December,  Columbus  beheld 
Muley  Boabdil,  the  elder  of  the  two  rival  kings, 
of  Granada,  surrender  in  person  all  his  remaining 
possessions,  and  his  right  to  the  crown,  to  the 
Spanish  sovereigns. 

During  this  siege  a  circumstance  took  place 
which  appears  to  have  made  a  deep  impression 
on  the  devout  and  enthusiastic  spirit  of  Colum- 
bus. Two  reverend  friars  arrived  one  day  at  the 
Spanish  camp,  and  requested  admission  to  the 
sovereigns  on  business  of  great  moment.  They 
were  two  of  the  brethren  of  the  convent  establish- 
ed at  the  holy  sepulchre  at  Jerusalem.  They 
brought  a  message  from  the  Grand  Soldan  of 
Egypt,  threatening  to  put  to  death  all  the  Chris- 
tians in  his  dominions,  to  lay  waste  their  convents 
and  churches,  and  to  destroy  the  sepulchre,  if  the 
sovereigns  did  not  desist  from  the  war  against 
Granada.  The  menace  had  no  effect  in  altering 
the  purpose  of  the  sovereigns,  but  Isabella  grant- 
ed a  yearly  and  perpetual  sum  of  one  thousand 
ducats  in  gold.f  for  the  support  of  the  monks  who 
had  charge  of  the  sepulchre  ;  and  sent  a  veil  em- 
broidered with  her  own  hands  to  be  hung  up  at 
its  shrine.  J 

The  representations  of  these  friars  of  the  suffer- 
ings and  indignities  to  which  Christians  were 
subjected  in  the  Holy  Land,  together  with  the 
arrogant  threat  of  the  Soldan,  roused  the  pious 
indignation  of  the  Spanish  cavaliers,  and  many 
burned  with  ardent  zeal  once  more  to  revive  the 
contests  of  the  faith  on  the  sacred  plains  of  Pales- 
tine. It  was  probably  from  conversation  with 
thesf>  friars,  and  from  the  pious  and  chivalrous 
zeal  thus  awakened  in  the  warrior  throng  around 
hirr,  that  Columbus  first  conceived  an  enthusias- 
tic idea,  or  rather  made  a  kind  of  mental  vow, 
which  remained  more  or  less  present  to  his  mind 
until  the  very  day  of  his  death.  He  determined 
that,  should  his  projected  enterprise  be  success- 
ful, he  would  devote  the  profits  arising  from  his 
anticipated  discoveries  to  a  crusade  for  the  res- 
cue of  the  holy  sepulchre  from  the  power  of  the 
infidels. 

If  the  bustle  and  turmoil  of  this  campaign  pre- 
vented the  intended  conference,  the  concerns  of 
Columbus  fared  no  better  during  the  subsequent 
rejoicings.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  entered  Sev- 
ille in  February,  1490,  with  great  pomp  and  tri- 
umph. There  were  then  preparations  made  for 


*  Diego  Ortiz  de  Zuniga.  Ann.  de  Sevilla,  lib. 
xii.,  anno  1489,  p.  404. 

t  Or  1423  dollars,  equivalent  to  4269  dollars  in  our 
time. 

t  Garabay,  Compend.  Hist.  lib.  xviii.  cap.  36. 


the  marriage  of  their  eldest  daughter,  the  Princess 
Isabella,  with  the  Prince  Don  Alonzo,  heir  appar- 
ent of  Portugal.  The  nuptials  were  celebrated  in 
the  month  of  April,  with  extraordinary  splendor. 
Throughout  the  whole  winter  and  spring  the 
court  was  in  a  continual  tumult  of  parade  and 
pleasure,  and  nothing  was  to  be  seen  at  Seville 
but  feasts,  tournaments,  and  torchlight  proces- 
sions. What  chance  had  Columbus  of  being 
heard  amid  these  alternate  uproars  of  war  and 
festivity  ? 

During  this  long  course  of  solicitation  he  sup- 
ported himself,  in  part,  by  making  maps  and 
charts,  and  was  occasionally  assisted  by  the  purse 
of  the  worthy  friar  Diego  de  Deza.  It  is  due  to 
the  sovereigns  to  say,  also,  that  whenever  he  was 
summoned  to  follow  the  movements  of  the  court, 
or  to  attend  any  appointed  consultation,  he  was 
attached  to  the  royal  suite,  and  lodgings  were 
provided  for  him  and  sums  issued  to  defray  his 
expenses.  Memorandums  of  several  of  these 
sums  still  exist  in  the  book  of  accounts  of  the  roy- 
al treasurer,  Francisco  Gonzalez,  of  Seville,  which 
has  lately  been  found  in  the  archives  of  Simancas  ; 
and  it  is  from  these  minutes  that  we  have  been 
enabled,  in  some  degree,  to  follow  the  movements 
of  Columbus  during  his  attendance  upon  this 
rambling  and  warlike  court. 

During  all  this  time  he  was  exposed  to  contin- 
ual scoffs  and  indignities,  being  ridiculed  by  the 
light  and  ignorant  as  a  mere  dreamer,  and  stigma- 
tized by  the  illiberal  as  an  adventurer.  The  very 
children,  it  is  said,  pointed  to  theirforeheads  as  he 
passed,  being  taught  to  regard  him  as  a  kind  of 
madman. 

The  summer  of  1490  passed  away,  but  still  Co- 
lumbus was  kept  in  tantalizing  and  tormenting 
suspense.  The  subsequent  winter  was  not  more 
propitious.  He  was  lingering  at  Cordova  in  a 
state  of  irritating  anxiety,  when  he  learnt  that  the 
sovereigns  were  preparing  to  depart  on  a  cam- 
paign in  the  Vega  of  Granada,  with  a  determina- 
tion never  to  raise  their  camp  from  before  that  city 
until  their  victorious  banners  should  float  upon  its 
towers. 

Columbus  was  aware  that  when  once  the  cam- 
paign was  opened  and  the  sovereigns  were  in  the 
field,  it  would  be  in  vain  to  expect  any  attention 
to  his  suit.  He  was  wearied,  if  not  incensed,  at 
the  repeated  postponements  he  had  experienced, 
by  which  several  years  had  been  consumed.  He 
now  pressed  for  a  decisive  reply  with  an  earnest- 
ness that  would  not  admit  of  evasion.  Fernando 
de  Talavera,  therefore,  was  called  upon  by  the 
sovereigns  to  hold  a  definitive  conference  with  the 
scientific  men  to  whom  the  project  had  been  re- 
ferred, and  to  make  a  report  of  their  decision. 
The  bishop  tardily  complied,  and  at  length  re- 
ported, to  their  majesties,  as  the  general  opinion 
of  the  Junto,  that  the  proposed  scheme  was  vain 
and  impossible,  and  that  it  did  not  become  such 
great  princes  to  engage  in  an  enterprise  of  the 
kind  on  such  weak  grounds  as  had  been  ad- 
vanced.* 

Notwithstanding  this  unfavorable  report,  the 
sovereigns  were  unwilling  to  close  the  door  upon 
a  project  which  might  be  productive  of  such  im- 
portant advantages.  Many  of  the  learned  mem- 
bers of  the  Junto  also  were  in  its  favor,  particu- 
larly Fray  Diego  de  Deza,  tutor  to  Prince  Juan, 
who  from  his  situation  and  clerical  character  had 
access  to  the  royal  ear,  and  exerted  himself  stren- 
uously in  counteracting  the  decision  of  the  board. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  2. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


A  degree  of  consideration,  also,  had  gradually 
grown  up  at  court  for  the  enterprise,  and  many 
men,  distinguished  for  rank  and  merit,  had  be- 
come its  advocates.  Fernando  de  Talavera, 
therefore,  was  commanded  to  inform  Columbus, 
who  was  still  at  Cordova,  that  the  great  cares 
and  expenses  of  the  wars  rendered  it  impossible 
for  the  sovereigns  to  engage  in  any  new  enter- 
prise ;  but  that  when  the  war  was  concluded  they 
would  have  both  time  and  inclination  to  treat  with 
him  about  what  he  proposed.* 

This  was  but  a  starved  reply  to  receive  after  so 
many  days  of  weary  attendance,  anxious  expecta- 
tion, and  deferred  hope  ;  Columbus  was  unwilling 
to  receive  it  at  second  hand,  and  repaired  to  the 
court  at  Seville  to  learn  his  fate  from  the  lips  of 
the  sovereigns.  Their  reply  was  virtually  the 
same,  declining  to  engage  in  the  enterprise  for 
the  present,  but  holding  out  hopes  of  patronage 
when  relieved  from  the  cares  and  expenses  of  the 
war. 

Columbus  looked  upon  this  indefinite  postpone- 
ment as  a  mere  courtly  mode  of  evading  his  im- 
portunity, and  supposed  that  the  favorable  dispo- 
sitions of  the  sovereigns  had  been  counteracted 
by  the  objections  of  the  ignorant  and  bigoted. 
Renouncing  all  further  confidence,  therefore,  in 
vague  promises,  which  had  so  often  led  to  disap- 
pointment, and  giving  up  all  hopes  of  countenance 
from  the  throne,  he  turned  his  back  upon  Seville, 
indignant  at  the  thoughts  of  having  been  beguiled 
out  of  so  many  precious  years  of  waning  existence. 


CHAPTER  V. 

COLUMBUS   AT  THE   CONVENT   OF  LA   RABIDA. 

ABOUT  half  a  league  from  the  little  seaport  of 
Palos  de  Moguer  in  Andalusia  there  stood,  and 
continues  to  stand  at  the  present  clay,  an  ancient 
convent  of  Franciscan  friars,  dedicated  to  Santa 
Maria  de  Rabida.  One  day  a  stranger  on  foot,  in 
humble  guise  but  of  a  distinguished  air,  accom- 
panied by  a  small  boy,  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the 
convent,  and  asked  of  the  porter  a  little  bread  and 
water  for  his  child.  While  receiving  this  hum- 
ble refreshment,  the  prior  of  the  convent,  Juan 
Perez  de  Marchena,  happening  to  pass  by,  was 
struck  with  the  appearance  of  the  stranger,  and 
observing  from  his  air  and  accent  that  he  was  a 
foreigner,  entered  into  conversation  with  him,  and 
soon  learned  the  particulars  of  his  story.  That 
stranger  was  Columbus. f  He  was  on  his  way  to 
the  neighboring  town  of  Huelva,  to  seek  his 
brother-in-law,  who  had  married  a  sister  of  his 
deceased  wife.J 

The  prior  was  a  man  of  extensive  information. 
His  attention  had  been  turned  in  some  measure  to 

geographical  and  nautical  science,  probably  from 
is  vicinity  to  Palos,  the  inhabitants  of  which  were 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  2. 

f  "  Lo  dicho  Almirante  Colon  veniendo  a  la  Rabida, 
que  es  un  monasterio  de  frailes  en  esta  villa,  el  qual 
demando  a  la  porteria  que  le  diesen  para  aquel 
ninico,  que  era  nifio,  pan  i  agua  que  bebiese. "  The 
testimony  of  Garcia  Fernandez  exists  in  manuscript 
among  the  multifarious  writings  of  the  Pleito  or  law- 
suit, which  are  preserved  at  Seville.  I  have  made 
use  of  an  authenticated  extract,  copied  for  the  late 
historian,  Juan  Baut.  ^Mufioz. 

\  Probably  Pedro  Correo.  alreadym  entioned,  from 
whom  he  had  received  information  of  signs  of  land  in 
the  west,  observed  near  Puerto  Santo. 


among  the  most  enterprising  navigators  of  Spain, 
and  made  frequent  voyages  to  the  recently  discov- 
ered islands  and  countries  on  the  African  coast. 
He  was  greatly  interested  by  the  conversation  of 
Columbus,  and  struck  with  the  grandeur  of  his 
views.  It  was  a  remarkable  occurrence  in  the 
monotonous  life  of  the  cloister,  to  have  a  man  of 
such  singular  character,  intent  on  so  extraordi- 
nary an  enterprise,  applying  for  bread  and  water 
at  the  gate  of  his  convent. 

When  he  found,  however,  that  the  voyager  was 
on  the  point  of  abandoning  Spain  to  seek  patron- 
age in  fche  court  of  France,  and  that  so  important 
an  enterprise  was  about  to  be  lost  forever  to  the 
country,  the  patriotism  of  the  good  friar  took  the 
alarm.  He  detained  Columbus  as  his  guest,  and, 
diffident  of  his  own  judgment,  sent  for  a  scientific 
friend  to  converse  with  him.  That  friend  was 
Garcia  Fernandez,  a  physician  resident  in  Palos, 
the  same  who  furnishes  this  interesting  testimony. 
Fernandez  was  equally  struck  with  the  appear- 
ance and  conversation  of  the  stranger  ;  several 
conferences  took  place  at  the  convent,  at  which 
several  of  the  veteran  mariners  of  Palos  were 
present.  Among  these  was  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon, 
the  head  of  a  family  of  wealthy  and  experienced 
navigators  of  the  place,  celebrated  for  their  ad- 
venturous expeditions.  Facts  were  related  by 
some  of  these  navigators  in  support  of  the  theory 
of  Columbus.  In  a  word,  his  project  was  treated 
with  a  deference  in  the  quiet  cloisters  of  La 
Rabida,  and  among  the  seafaring  men  of  Palos, 
which  had  been  sought  in  vain  among  the  sages 
and  philosophers  of  the  court.  Martin  Alonzo 
Pinzon  especially  was  so  convinced  of  its  feasibil- 
ity that  he  offered  to  engage  in  it  with  purse  and 
person,  and  to  bear  the  expenses  of  Columbus  in 
a  renewed  application  to  the  court. 

Friar  Juan  Perez  was  confirmed  in  his  faith  by 
the  concurrence  of  those  learned  and  practical 
councillors.  He  had  once  been  confessor  to  the 
queen,  and  knew  that  she  was  always  accessible 
to  persons  of  his  sacred  calling.  He  proposed  to 
write  to  her  immediately  on  the  subject,  and  en- 
treated Columbus  to  delay  his  journey  until  an 
answer  could  be  received.  The  latter  was  easily 
persuaded,  for  he  felt  as  if,  in  leaving  Spain,  he 
was  again  abandoning  his  home.  He  was  also 
reluctant  to  renew,  in  another  court,  the  vexations 
and  disappointments  experienced  in  Spain  and 
Portugal. 

The  little  council  at  the  convent  of  La  Rabida 
now  cast  round  their  eyes  for  an  ambassador  to 
depart  upon  this  momentous  mission.  They 
chose  one  Sebastian  Rodriguez,  a  pilot  of  Lepe, 
one  of  the  most  shrewd  and  important  personages 
in  this  maritime  neighborhood.  The  queen  was 
at  this  time  at  Santa  Fe",  the  military  city  which 
had  been  built  in  the  Vega  before  Granada,  after 
the  conflagration  of  the  royal  camp.  The  honest 
pilot  acquitted  himself  faithfully,  expeditiously, 
and  successfully,  in  his  embassy.  He  found  ac- 
cess to  the  benignant  princess,  and  delivered  the 
epistle  of  the  friar.  Isabella  had  always  been  fa- 
vorably disposed  to  the  proposition  of  Columbus. 
She  wrote  in  reply  to  Juan  Perez,  thanking  him 
for  his  timely  services,  and  requesting  that  he 
would  repair  immediately  to  the  court,  leaving 
Christopher  Columbus  in  confident  hope  until  he 
should  hear  further  from  her.  This  royal  letter 
was  brought  back  by  the  pilot  at  the  end  of  four- 
teen days,  and  spread  great  joy  in  the  little  junto 
at  the  convent.  No  sooner  did  the  warm-hearted 
friar  receive  it,  than  he  saddled  his  mule,  and  de- 
parted privately,  before  midnight,  for  the  court. 


30 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


He  journeyed  through  the  conquered  countries  of 
the  Moors,  and  rode  into  the  newly-erected  city  of 
Santa  Fe",  where  the  sovereigns  were  superintend- 
ing the  close  investment  of  the  capital  of  Granada. 

The  sacred  office  of  Juan  Perez  gained  him  a 
ready  entrance  in  a  court  distinguished  for  relig- 
ious zeal  ;  and,  once  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
the  queen,  his  former  relation,  as  father  confessor, 
gave  him  great  freedom  of  counsel.  He  pleaded 
the  cause  of  Columbus  with  characteristic  enthu- 
siasm, speaking  from  actual  knowledge  of  his 
honorable  motives,  his  professional  knowledge 
and  experience,  and  his  perfect  capacity.to  fulfil 
the  undertaking  ;  he  represented  the  solid  princi- 
ples upon  which  the  enterprise  was  founded,  the 
advantage  that  must  attend  its  success,  and  the 
glory  it  must  shed  upon  the  Spanish  crown.  It  is 
probable  that  Isabella  had  never  heard  the  propo- 
sition urged  with  such  honest  zeal  and  impressive 
eloquence.  Being  naturally  more  sanguine  and 
susceptible  than  the  king,  and  more  open  to  warm 
and  generous  impulses,  she  was  moved  by  the 
representations  of  Juan  Perez,  which  were  warmly 
seconded  by  her  favorite,  the  Marchioness  of 
Moya,  who  entered  into  the  affair  with  a  woman's 
disinterested  enthusiasm.*  The  queen  requested 
that  Columbus  might  be  again  sent  to  her,  and, 
with  the  kind  considerateness  which  characterized 
her,  bethinking  herself  of  his  poverty,  and  his 
humble  plight,  ordered  that  twenty  thousand 
maravediesf  in  florins  should  be  forwarded  to 
him,  to  bear  his  travelling  expenses,  to  provide 
him  with  a  mule  for  his  journey,  and  to  furnish 
him  with  decent  raiment,  that  he  might  make  a 
respectable  appearance  at  the  court. 

The  worthy  friar  lost  no  time  in  communicat- 
ing the  result  of  his  mission  ;  he  transmitted  the 
money,  and  a  letter,  by  the  hands  of  an  inhab- 
itant of  Palos,  to  the  physician  Garcia  Fernandez, 
who  delivered  them  to  Columbus.  The  latter 
complied  with  the  instructions  conveyed  in  the 
epistle.  He  exchanged  his  threadbare  garb  for 
one  more  suited  to  the  sphere  of  a  court,  and, 
purchasing  a  mule,  set  out  once  more,  reanima- 
ted by  hopes,  for  the  camp  before  Granada.J 


CHAPTER   VI. 

APPLICATION    TO    THE    COURT    AT  THE  TIME  OF 
THE  SURRENDER  OF  GRANADA. 

[1492.] 

WHEN  Columbus  arrived  at  the  court,  he  ex- 
per^nced  a  favorable  reception,  and  was  given  in 
hospitable  charge  to  his  steady  friend  Alonzo  de 
Quintanilla,  the  accountant-general.  The  mo- 
ment, however,  was  too  eventful  for  his  business 
to  receive  immediate  attention.  He  arrived  in 
time  to  witness  the  memorable  surrender  of  Gra- 
nada to  the  Spanish  arms.  He  beheld  Boabdil, 
the  last  of  the  Moorish  kings,  sally  forth  from  the 
Alhambra,  and  yield  up  the  keys  of  that  favorite 
seat  of  Moorish  power  ;  while  the  king  and  queen, 
with  all  the  chivalry  and  rank  and  magnificence 
of  Spain,  moved  forward  in  proud  and  solemn 


*  Retrato  del  Buen  Vassallo,  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 

f  Or  72  dollars,  and  equivalent  to  216  dollars  of 
the  present  day. 

|  Most  of  the  particulars  of  this  visit  of  Columbus 
to  the  convent  of  La  Rabida  are  from  the  testimony 
rendered  by  Garcia  Fernandez  in  the  lawsuit  between 
Diego,  the  son  of  Columbus,  and  the  crown. 


procession,  to  receive  this  token  of  submission. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  brilliant  triumphs  in  Span- 
ish history.  After  near  eight  hundred  years  of 
painful  struggle,  the  crescent  was  completely  cast 
down,  the  cross  exalted  in  its  place,  and  the  stand- 
ard of  Spain  was  seen  floating  on  the  highest 
tower  of  the  Alhambra.  The  whole  court  and 
army  were  abandoned  to  jubilee.  The  air  re- 
sounded with  shouts  of  joy,  with  songs  of  triumph, 
and  hymns  of  thanksgiving.  On  every  side  were 
beheld  military  rejoicings  and  religious  oblations  ; 
for  it  was  considered  a  triumph,  not  merely  of 
arms,  but  of  Christianity.  The  king  and  queen 
moved  in  the  midst,  in  more  than  common  mag- 
nificence, while  every  eye  regarded  them  as  more 
than  mortal  ;  as  if  sent  by  Heaven  for  the  salva- 
tion and  building  up  of  Spain.*  The  court  was 
thronged  by  the  most  illustrious  of  that  warlike 
country,  and  stirring  era  ;  by  the  flower  of  its 
nobility,  by  the  most  dignified  of  its  prelacy,  by 
bards  and  minstrels,  and  all  the  retinue  of  a  ro- 
mantic and  picturesque  age.  There  was  nothing 
but  the  glittering  of  arms,  the  rustling  of  robes, 
the  sound  of  music  and  festivity. 

Do  we  want  a  picture  of  our  navigator  during 
this  brilliant  and  triumphant  scene  ?  It  is  fur- 
nished by  a  Spanish  writer.  "  A  man  obscure 
and  but  little  known  followed  at  this  time  the 
court.  Confounded  in  the  crowd  of  importunate 
applicants,  feeding  his  imagination  in  the  corners 
or  antechambers  with  the  pompous  project  of  dis- 
covering a  world,  melancholy  and  dejected  in  the 
midst  of  the  general  rejoicing,  he  beheld  with  in- 
difference, and  almost  with  contempt,  the  conclu- 
sion of  a  conquest  which  swelled  all  bosoms  with 
jubilee,  and  seemed  to  have  reached  the  utmost 
bounds  of  desire.  That  man  was  Christopher 
Columbus."  f 

The  moment  had  now  arrived,  however,  when 
the  monarchs  stood  pledged  to  attend  to  his  pro- 
posals. The  war  with  the  Moors  was  at  an  end, 
Spain  was  delivered  from  its  intruders,  and  its 
sovereigns  might  securely  turn  their  views  to  for- 
eign enterprise.  They  kept  their  word  with  Co- 
lumbus. Persons  of  confidence  were  appointed  to 
negotiate  with  him,  among  whom  was  Fernando 
de  Talavera,  who,  by  the  recent  conquest,  had 
risen  to  be  Archbishop  of  Granada.  At  the  very 
outset  of  their  negotiation,  however,  unexpected 
difficulties  arose.  So  fully  imbued  was  Columbus 
with  the  grandeur  of  his  enterprise,  that  he  would 
listen  to  none  but  princely  conditions.  His  prin- 
cipal stipulation  was,  that  he  should  be  invested 
with  the  titles  and  privileges  of  admiral  and  vice- 
roy over  the  countries  he  should  discover,  with 
one  tenth  of  all  gains,  either  by  trade  or  conquest. 
The  courtiers  who  treated  with  him  were  indig- 
nant at  such  a  demand.  Their  pride  was  shocked 
to  see  one,  whom  they  had  considered  as  a  needy 
adventurer,  aspiring  to  rank  and  dignities  supe- 
rior to  their  own.  One  observed  with  a  sneer 
that  it  was  a  shrewd  arrangement  which  he  pro- 
posed, whereby  he  was  secure,  at  all  events,  of 
the  honor  of  a  command,  and  had  nothing  to  lose 
in  case  of  failure.  To  this  Columbus  promptly 
replied,  by  offering  to  furnish  one  eighth  of  the 
cost,  on  condition  of  enjoying  an  eighth  of  the 
profits.  To  do  this,  he  no  doubt  calculated  on  the 
proffered  assistance  of  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon,  the 
wealthy  navigator  of  Palos. 

His  terms,  however,  were  pronounced  inadmissi- 
ble. Fernando  de  Talavera  had  always  considered 


*  Mariana,  Hist,  de  Espana,  lib.  xxv.  cap.  18. 
f  Clemencin,  Elogio  de  la  Reina  Catolica,  p.  20. 


THE  KAATERSKIU   IRVING 


///s  /////>/  - 


/    J 

'  - 


//// 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


31 


Columbus  a  dreaming  speculator,  or  a  needy  ap- 
plicant for  bread  ;  but  to  see  this  man,  who  had 
for  years  been  an  indigent  and  threadbare  solicit- 
or in  his  antechamber,  assuming-  so  lofty  a  tone, 
and  claiming  an  office  that  approached  to  the 
awful  dignity  of  the  throne,  excited  the  astonish- 
ment as  well  as  the  indignation  of  the  prelate. 
He  represented  to  Isabella  that  it  would  be  de- 
grading to  the  dignity  of  so  illustrious  a  crown  to 
lavish  such  distinguished  honors  upon  a  nameless 
stranger.  Such  terms,  he  observed,  even  in  case 
of  success,  would  be  exorbitant  ;  but  in  case  of 
failure,  would  be  cited  with  ridicule,  as  evidence 
of  the  gross  credulity  of  the  Spanish  monarchs. 

Isabella  was  always  attentive  to  the  opinions  of 
her  ghostly  advisers,  and  the  archbishop  being 
her  confessor,  had  peculiar  influence.  His  sug- 
gestions checked  her  dawning  favor.  She  thought 
the  proposed  advantages  might  be  purchased  at 
too  great  a  price.  More  moderate  conditions 
were  offered  to  Columbus,  and  such  as  appeared 
highly  honorable  and  advantageous.  It  was  all 
in  vain  :  he  would  not  cede  one  point  of  his  de- 
mands, and  the  negotiation  was  broken  off. 

It  is  impossible  not  to  admire  the  great  con- 
stancy of  purpose  and  loftiness  of  spirit  displayed 
by  Columbus,  ever  since  he  had  conceived  the 
sublime  idea  of  his  discovery.  More  than  eigh- 
teen years  had  elapsed  since  his  correspondence 
with  Paulo  Toscanelli  of  Florence,  wherein  he 
had  announced  his  design.  The  greatest  part  of 
that  time  had  been  consumed  in  applications  at 
various  courts.  During  that  period,  what  pov- 
erty, neglect,  ridicule,  contumely,  and  disappoint- 
ment had  he  not  suffered  !  Nothing,  however, 
could  shake  his  perseverance,  nor  make  him  de- 
scend to  terms  which  he  considered  beneath  the 
dignity  of  his  enterprise.  In  all  his  negotiations 
he  forgot  his  present  obscurity  ;  he  forgot  his 
present  indigence  ;  his  ardent  imagination  realized 
the  magnitude  of  his  contemplated  discoveries, 
and  he  felt  himself  negotiating  about  empire. 

Though  so  large  a  portion  of  his  life  had  worn 
away  in  fruitless  solicitings  ;  though  there  was  no 
certainty  that  the  same  weary  career  was  not  to 
be  entered  upon  at  any  other  court  ;  yet  so  indig- 
nant was  he  at  the  repeated  disappointments  he 
had  experienced  in  Spain,  that  he  determined  to 
abandon  it  forever,  rather  than  compromise  his 
demands.  Taking  leave  of  his  friends,  therefore, 
he  mounted  his  mule,  and  sallied  forth  from  Santa 
Fe"  in  the  beginning  of  February,  1492,  on  his  way 
to  Cordova,  whence  he  intended  to  depart  imme- 
diately for  France. 

When  the  few  friends  who  were  zealous  believ- 
ers in  the  theory  of  Columbus  saw  him  really  on 
the  point  of  abandoning  the  country,  they  were 
filled  with  distress,  considering  his  departure  an 
irreparable  loss  to  the  nation.  Among  the  num- 
ber was  Luis  de  St.  Angel,  receiver  of  the  ecclesi- 
astical revenues  in  Arragon.  Determined  if  pos- 
sible to  avert  the  evil,  he  obtained  an  immediate 
audience  of  the  queen,  accompanied  by  Alonzo  de 
Quintanilla.  The  exigency  of  the  moment  gave 
him  courage  and  eloquence.  He  did  not  confine 
himself  to  entreaties,  but  almost  mingled  re- 
proaches, expressing  astonishment  that  a  queen 
who  had  evinced  the  spirit  to  undertake  so  many 
great  and  perilous  enterprises,  should  hesitate  at 
one  where  the  loss  could  be  so  trifling,  while  the 
gain  might  be  incalculable.  He  reminded  her 
now  much  might  be  done  for  the  glory  of  God, 
the  exaltation  of  the  church,  and  the  extension  of 
her  own  power  and  dominion.  What  cause  of 
regret  to  herself,  of  triumph  to  ner  enemies,  of 


sorrow  to  her  friends,  should  this  enterprise,  thus 
rejected  by  her,  be  accomplished  by  some  other 
power  !  He  reminded  her  what  fame  and  domin- 
ion other  princes  had  acquired  by  their  discover- 
ies ;  here  was  an  opportunity  to  surpass  them  all. 

He  entreated  her  majesty  not  to  be  misled  by 
the  assertions  of  learned  men,  that  the  project 
was  the  dream  of  a  visionary.  He  vindicated  the 
judgment  of  Columbus,  and  the  soundness  and 
practicability  of  his  plans.  Neither  would  even 
his  failure  reflect  disgrace  upon  the  crown.  It 
was  worth  the  trouble  and  expense  to  clear  up 
even  a  doubt  upon  a  matter  of  such  importance, 
for  it  belonged  to  enlightened  and  magnanimous 
princes  to  investigate  questions  of  the  kind,  and 
to  explore  the  wonders  and  secrets  of  the  universe. 
He  stated  the  liberal  offer  of  Columbus  to  bear  an 
eighth  of  the  expense,  and  informed  her  that  all 
the  requisites  for  this  great  enterprise  consisted 
but  of  two  vessels  and  about  three  thousand 
crowns. 

These  and  many  more  arguments  were  urged 
with  that  persuasive  power  which  honest  zeal  im- 
parts, and  it  is  said  the  Marchioness  of  Moya, 
who  was  present,  exerted  her  eloquence  to  per- 
suade the  queen.  The  generous  spirit  of  Isabella 
was  enkindled.  It  seemed  as  if,  for  the  first  time, 
the  subject  broke  upon  her  mind  in  its  real  gran- 
deur, and  she  declared  her  resolution  to  under- 
take the  enterprise. 

There  was  still  a  moment's  hesitation.  The 
king  looked  coldly  on  the  affair,  and  the  royal 
finances  were  absolutely  drained  by  the  war. 
Some  time  must  be  given  to  replenish  them. 
How  could  she  draw  on  an  exhausted  treasury  for 
a  measure  to  which  the  king  was  adverse  !  St. 
Angel  watched  this  suspense  with  trembling  anxi- 
ety. The  next  moment  reassured  him.  With  an 
enthusiasm  worthy  of  herself  and  of  the  cause, 
Isabella  exclaimed,  "  I  undertake  the  enterprise 
for  my  own  crown  of  Castile,  and  will  pledge  my 
jewels  to  raise  the  necessary  funds."  This  was 
the  proudest  moment  in  the  life  of  Isabella  ;  it 
stamped  her  renown  forever  as  the  patroness  of 
the  discovery  of  the  New  World. 

St.  Angel,  eager  to  secure  this  noble  impulse, 
assured  her  majesty  that  there  would  be  no  neea 
of  pledging  her  jewels,  as  he  was  ready  to  advance 
the  necessary  funds.  His  offer  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted ;  the  funds  really  came  from  the  coffers  of 
Arragon  ;  seventeen  thousand  florins  were  ad- 
vanced by  the  accountant  of  St.  Angel  out  of  the 
treasury  of  King  Ferdinand.  That  prudent  mon- 
arch, however,  took  care  to  have  his  kingdom  in- 
demnified some  few  years  afterward  ;  for  in  remu- 
neration of  this  loan,  a  part  of  the  first  gold 
brought  by  Columbus  from  the  New  World,  was 
employed  in  gilding  the  vaults  and  ceilings  of  the 
royal  saloon  in  the  grand  palace  of  Saragoza,  in 
Arragon,  anciently  the  Aljaferia,  or  abode  of  the 
Moorish  kings.* 

Columbus  had  pursued  his  lonely  journey  across 
the  Vega  and  reached  the  bridge  of  Pinos,  about 
two  leagues  from  Granada,  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  of  Elvira,  a  pass  famous  in  the  Moor- 
ish wars  for  many  a  desperate  encounter  between 
the  Christians  and  infidels.  Here  he  was  over- 
taken by  a  courier  from  the  queen,  spurring  in  all 
speed,  who  summoned  him  to  return  to  Santa  Fe". 
He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  being  loath  to  subject 
himself  again  to  the  delays  and  equivocations  of 
the  court  ;  when  informed,  however,  of  the  sud- 
den zeal  for  the  enterprise  excited  in  the  mind  of 

*  Argensola  Anales  de  Arragon,  lib.  i.  cap.  10. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


the  queen,  and  the  positive  promise  she  had  given 
to  undertake  it,  he  no  longer  felt  a  doubt,  but, 
turning  the  reins  of  his  mule,  hastened  back,  with 
joyful  alacrity  to  Santa  F6  confiding  in  the  noble 
probity  of  that  princess. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

ARRANGEMENT  WITH  THE  SPANISH  SOVEREIGNS 
— PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  EXPEDITION  AT  THE 
PORT  OF  PALOS. 

[1492.] 

ON  arriving  at  Santa  Fe"(  Columbus  had  an  im- 
mediate audience  of  the  queen,  and  the  benignity 
with  which  she  received  him  atoned  for  all  past 
neglect.  Through  deference  to  the  zeal  she  thus 
suddenly  displayed,  the  king  yielded  his  tardy  con- 
currence, but  Isabella  was  the  soul  of  this  grand 
enterprise.  She  was  prompted  by  lofty  and  gen- 
erous enthusiasm,  while  the  king  proved  cold  and 
calculating  in  this  as  in  all  his  other  undertak- 
ings. 

A  perfect  understanding  being  thus  effected 
with  the  sovereigns,  articles  of  agreement  were 
ordered  to  be  drawn  out  by  Juan  de  Coloma, 
the  royal  secretary.  They  were  to  the  following 
effect : 

1.  That  Columbus  should  have,  for  himself  dur- 
ing his  life,  and  his  heirs  and  successors  forever, 
the  office  of  admiral   in   all  the  lands  and  conti- 
nents which  he  might  discover  or  acquire  in  the 
ocean,  with  similar  honors  and  prerogatives  to 
those  enjoyed   by  the  high  admiral  of  Castile  in 
his  district. 

2.  That  he  should  be  viceroy  and  governor-gen- 
eral over  all  the  said   lands  and   continents,  with 
the  privilege  of  nominating  three  candidates  for 
the  government  of  each  island  or  province,  one  of 
whom  should  be  selected  by  the  sovereigns. 

3.  That  he  should  be  entitled  to  reserve  for  him- 
self one  tenth  of  all  pearls,  precious  stones,  gold, 
silver,  spices,  and  all  other  articles  and  merchan- 
dises, in  whatever  manner  found,    bought,    bar- 
tered, or  gained  within  his  admiralty,  the  costs 
being  first  deducted. 

4.  That  he,  or  his  lieutenant,  should  be  the  sole 
judge  in  all   causes  and  disputes  arising  out  of 
traffic  between  those  countries  and  Spain,  provided 
the  high  admiral  of  Castile  had  similar  jurisdic- 
tion in  his  district. 

5.  That  he   might  then,  and  at  all  after  times, 
contribute  an  eighth  part  of  the  expense  in  fitting 
out  vessels  to  sail  on  this  enterprise,  and  receive 
an  eighth  part  of  the  profits. 

The  last  stipulation,  which  admits  Columbus  to 
bear  an  eighth  of  the  enterprise,  was  made  in  con- 
sequence of  his  indignant  proffer,  on  being  re- 
proached with  demanding  ample  emoluments 
while  incurring  no  portion  of  the  charge.  He 
fulfilled  this  engagement,  through  the  assistance 
of  the  Pinzons  of  Palos,  and  added  a  third  vessel 
to  the  armament.  Thus  one  eighth  of  the  ex- 
pense attendant  on  this  grand  expedition,  under- 
taken by  a  powerful  nation,  was  actually  borne  by 
the  individual  who  conceived  it,  and  who  likewise 
risked  his  life  on  its  success. 

The  capitulations  were  signed  by  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella,  at  the  city  of  Santa  Pe",  in  the  Vega 
or  plain  of  Granada,  on  the  I7th  of  April,  1492. 
A  letter  of  privilege,  or  commission  to  Columbus, 


of  similar  purport,  was  drawn  out  in  form,  and 
issued  by  the  sovereigns  in  the  city  of  Granada, 
on  the  thirtieth  of  the  same  month.  In  this,  the 
dignities  and  prerogatives  of  viceroy  and  governor 
were  made  hereditary  in  his  family  ;  and  he  and 
his  heirs  were  authorized  to  prefix  the  title  of  Don 
to  their  names  ;  a  distinction  accorded  in  those 
days  only  to  persons  of  rank  and  estate,  though  it 
has  since  lost  all  value,  from  being  universally 
used  in  Spain. 

All  the  royal  documents  issued  on  this  occasion 
bore  equally  the  signatures  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  but  her  separate  crown  of  Castile  de- 
frayed all  the  expense  ;  and,  during  her  life,  few 
persons,  except  Castilians,  were  permitted  to  es- 
tablish themselves  in  the  new  territories.* 

The  port  of  Palos  de  Moguer  was  fixed  upon  as 
the  place  where  the  armament  was  to  be  fitted 
out,  Columbus  calculating,  no  doubt,  on  the  co- 
operation of  Martin  Alon?o  Pinzon,  resident  there, 
and  on  the  assistance  of  his  zealous  friend  the 
prior  of  the  convent  of  La  Rabida.  Before  going 
into  the  business  details  of  this  great  enterprise,  it 
is  due  to  the  character  of  the  illustrious  man  who 
conceived  and  conducted  it,  most  especially  to 
notice  the  elevated,  even  though  visionary  spirit 
by  which  he  was  actuated.  One  of  his  principal 
objects  was  undoubtedly  the  propagation  of  the 
Christian  faith.  He  expected  to  arrive  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  Asia,  and  to  open  a  direct  and  easy 
communication  with  the  vast  and  magnificent  em- 
pire of  the  Grand  Khan.  The  conversion  of  that 
heathen  potentate  had,  in  former  times,  been  a 
favorite  aim  of  various  pontiffs  and  pious  sover- 
eigns, and  various  missions  had  been  sent  to  the 
remote  regions  of  the  East  for  that  purpose.  Co- 
lumbus now  considered  himself  about  to  effect 
this  great  work  :  to  spread  the  light  of  revelation 
to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth,  and  thus  to  be  the 
instrument  of  accomplishing  one  of  the  sublime 
predictions  of  Holy  Writ.  Ferdinand  listened 
with  complacency  to  these  enthusiastic  anticipa- 
tions. With  him,  however,  religion  was  subser- 
vient to  interest  ;  and  he  had  found,  in  the  recent 
conquest  of  Granada,  that  extending  the  sway  of 
the  church  might  be  made  a  laudable  means  of 
extending  his  own  dominions.  According  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  clay,  every  nation  that  refused  to 
acknowledge  the  truths  of  Christianity,  was  fair 
spoil  for  a  Christian  invader  ;  and  it  is  probable 
that  Ferdinand  was  more  stimulated  by  the  ac- 
counts given  of  the  wealth  of  Mangi,  Cathay,  and 
other  provinces  belonging  to  the  Grand  Khan, 
than  by  any  anxiety  for  the  conversion  of  him  and 
his  semi-barbarous  subjects. 

Isabella  had  nobler  inducements  :  she  was  filled 
with  a  pious  zeal  at  the  idea  of  effecting  such  a 
great  work  of  salvation.  From  different  motives, 
therefore,  both  of  the  sovereigns  accorded  with 
the  views  of  Columbus  in  this  particular,  and 
when  he  afterward  departed  on  his  voyage,  letters 
were  actually  given  him  for  the  Grand  Khan  of 
Tartary. 

The  ardent  enthusiasm  of  Columbus  did  not 
stop  here.  Anticipating  boundless  wealth  from 
his  discoveries,  he  suggested  that  the  treasures 
thus  acquired  should  be  consecrated  to  the  pious 
purpose  of  rescuing  the  holy  sepulchre  of  Jerusa- 
lem from  the  power  of  the  infidels.  The  sover- 
eigns smiled  at  this  sally  of  the  imagination,  but 
expressed  themselves  well  pleased  with  it,  and 
assured  him  that  even  without  the  funds  he  anti- 
cipated, they  should  be  well  disposed  to  that  holy 

*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  S.  Domingo,  lib.  i.  p.  79. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


33 


undertaking.*  What  the  king  and  queen,  how- 
ever, may  have  considered  a  mere  sally  of  mo- 
mentary excitement,  was  a  deep  and  cherished 
design  of  Columbus.  It  is  a  curious  and  charac- 
teristic fact,  which  has  never  been  particularly 
noticed,  that  the  recovery  of  the  holy  sepulchre 
was  one  of  the  great  objects  of  his  ambition,  medi- 
tated throughout  the  remainder  of  his  life,  and 
solemnly  provided  for  in  his  will.  In  fact,  he  sub- 
sequently considered  it  the  main  work  for  which 
he  was  chosen  by  heaven  as  an  agent,  and  that 
his  great  discovery  was  but  a  preparatory  dispen- 
sation of  Providence  to  furnish  means  for  its  ac- 
complishment. 

A  home-felt  mark  of  favor,  characteristic  of  the 
kind  and  considerate  heart  of  Isabella,  was  ac- 
corded to  Columbus  before  his  departure  from  the 
court.  An  albala,  or  letter-patent,  was  issued  by 
the  queen  on  the  8th  of  May,  appointing  his  son 
Diego  page  to  Prince  Juan,  the  heir  apparent,  with 
an  allowance  for  his  support  ;  an  honor  granted 
only  to  the  sons  of  persons  of  distinguished  rank.f 

Thus  gratified  in  his  dearest  wishes,  after  a 
course  of  delays  and  disappointments  sufficient  to 
have  reduced  any  ordinary  man  to  despair,  Colum- 
bus took  leave  of  the  court  on  the  I2th  of  May, 
and  set  out  joyfully  for  Palos.  Let  those  who  are 
disposed  to  faint  under  difficulties,  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  any  great  and  worthy  undertaking,  re- 
member that  eighteen  years  elapsed  after  the  time 
that  Columbus  conceived  his  enterprise,  before  he 
was  enabled  to  carry  it  into  effect ;  that  the 
greater  part  of  that  time  was  passed  in  almost 
hopeless  solicitation,  amid  poverty,  neglect,  and 
taunting  ridicule  ;  that  the  prime  of  his  life  had 
wasted  away  in  the  struggle,  and  that  when  his 
perseverance  was  finally  crowned  with  success, 
he  was  about  his  fifty-sixth  year.  His  example 
should  encourage  the  enterprising  never  to  de- 
spair. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

COLUMBUS    AT    THE    PORT  OF  PALOS — PREPARA- 
TIONS  FOR   THE  VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERY. 

ON  arriving  at  Palos,  Columbus  repaired  im- 
mediately to  the  neighboring  convent  of  La  Ra- 
bida,  where  he  was  received  with  open  arms  by 
the  worthy  prior,  Fray  Juan  Perez,  and  again  be- 
came his  guest. J  The  port  of  Palos,  for  some 
misdemeanor,  had  been  condemned  by  the  royal 
council  to  serve  the  crown  for  one  year  with  two 
armed  caravels  ;  and  these  were  destined  to  form 
part  of  the  armament  of  Columbus,  who  was  fur- 
nished with  the  necessary  papers  and  vouchers  to 
enforce  obedience  in  all  matters  necessary  for  his 
expedition. 

On  the  following  morning,  the  23d  of  May,  Co- 
lumbus, accompanied  by  Fray  Juan  Perez,  whose 
character  and  station  gave  him  great  importance  in 
the  neighborhood,  proceeded  to  the  church  of  St. 
George  in  Palos,  where  the  alcalde,  the  regidors, 
and  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  place  had 
been  notified  to  attend.  Here,  in  presence  of 
them  all,  in  the  porch  of  the  church,  a  royal 
order  was  read  by  a  notary  public,  commanding 

*  Proteste  a  vuestras  Altezas  que  toda  la  ganancia 
desta  mi  empresa  se  gastase  en  la  conquista  de  Jeru- 
salem, y  vuestras  Altezas  se  rieron,  y  dijeron  que  les 
placia,  y  que  sin  este  tenian  aquella  gana.  Primer 
Viage  de  Colon,  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  117. 

f  Navarrete,  Colec.  de  Viages,  torn.  ii.  doc.  n. 

j  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  ii.  cap.  5. 


the  authorities  of  Palos  to  have  two  caravels 
ready  for  sea  within  ten  days  after  this  notice, 
and  to  place  them  and  their  crews  at  the  disposal 
of  Columbus.  The  latter  was  likewise  empower- 
ed to  procure  and  fit  out  a  third  vessel.  The  crews 
of  all  three  were  to  receive  the  ordinary  wages  of 
seamen  employed  in  armed  vessels,  and  to  be 
paid  four  months  in  advance.  They  were  to  sail 
in  such  direction  as  Columbus,  under  the  royal 
authority,  should  command,  and  were  to  obey 
him  in  all  things,  with  merely  one  stipulation, 
that  neither  he  nor  they  were  to  go  to  St.  George  la 
Mina,  on  the  coast  of  Guinea,  nor  any  other  of  the 
lately  discovered  possessions  of  Portugal.  A  cer- 
tificate of  their  good  conduct,  signed  by  Colum- 
bus, was  to  be  the  discharge  of  their  obligation  to 
the  crown.* 

Orders  were  likewise  read,  addressed  to  the 
public  authorities,  and  the  people  of  all  ranks  and 
conditions,  in  the  maritime  borders  of  Andalusia, 
commanding  them  to  furnish  supplies  and  assist- 
ance of  all  kinds,  at  reasonable  prices,  for  the 
fitting  out  of  the  vessels  ;  and  penalties  were 
denounced  on  such  as  should  cause  any  impedi- 
ment. No  duties  were  to  be  exacted  for  any 
articles  furnished  to  the  vessels  ;  and  all  criminal 
processes  against  the  person  or  property  of  any 
individual  engaged  in  the  expedition  was  to  be 
suspended  during  his  absence,  and  for  two  months 
after  his  return. f 

With  these  orders  the  authorities  promised  im- 
plicit compliance  ;  but  when  the  nature  of  the 
intended  expedition  came  to  be  known,  astonish- 
ment and  dismay  fell  upon  the  little  community. 
The  ships  and  crews  demanded  for  such  a  des- 
perate service  were  regarded  in  the  light  of  sacri- 
fices. The  owners  of  vessels  refused  to  furnish 
them  ;  the  boldest  seamen  shrank  from  such  a 
wild  and  chimerical  cruise  into  the  wilderness  of 
the  ocean.  All  kinds  of  frightful  tales  and  fables 
were  conjured  up  concerning  the  unknown  re- 
gions of  the  deep  ;  and  nothing  can  be  a  stronger 
evidence  of  the  boldness  of  this  undertaking  than 
the  extreme  dread  of  it  in  a  community  composed 
of  some  of  the  most  adventurous  navigators  of  the 
age. 

Weeks  elapsed  without  a  vessel  being  procured, 
or  anything  else  being  done  in  fulfilment  of  the 
royal  orders.  Further  mandates  were  therefore 
issued  by  the  sovereigns,  ordering  the  magistrates 
of  the  coast  of  Andalusia  to  press  into  the  service 
any  vessels  they  might  think  proper,  belonging  to 
Spanish  subjects,  and  to  oblige  the  masters  and 
crews  to  sail  with  Columbus  in  whatever  direc- 
tion he  should  be  sent  by  royal  command.  Juan 
de  Peftalosa,  an  officer  of  the  royal  household, 
was  sent  to  see  that  this  order  was  properly  com- 
plied with,  receiving  two  hundred  maravedis  a 
day  as  long  as  he  was  occupied  in  the  business, 
which  sum,  together  with  other  penalties  express- 
ed in  the  mandate,  was  to  be  exacted  from  such 
as  should  be  disobedient  and  delinquent.  This 
letter  was  acted  upon  by  Columbus  in  Palos  and 
the  neighboring  town  of  Moguer,  but  apparently 
with  as  little  success  as  the  preceding.  The 
communities  of  those  places  were  thrown  into 
complete  contusion  ;  tumults  took  place  ;  but 
nothing  of  consequence  was  effected.  At  length 
Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon  stepped  forward,  with  his 
brother  Vicente  Yafiez  Pinzon,  both  navigators 
of  great  courage  and  ability,  owners  of  vessels, 
and  having  seamen  in  their  employ.  They  were 


*  Navarrete,  Colec.  de  Viages,  torn.  ii.  doc.  6. 
f  Ibid.,  doc.  8,  9. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


related,  also,  to  many  of  the  seafaring  inhabitants 
of  Palos  and  Moguer,  and  had  great  influence 
throughout  the  neighborhood.  They  engaged  to 
sail  on  the  expedition,  and  furnished  one  of  the  ves- 
sels required.  Others,  with  their  owners  and  crews, 
were  pressed  into  the  sen-ice  by  the  magistrates 
under  the  arbitrary  mandate  of  the  sovereigns  ; 
and  it  is  a  striking  instance  of  the  despotic  au- 
thority exercised  over  commerce  in  those  times, 
that  respectable  individuals  should  thus  be  com- 
pelled to  engage,  with  persons  and  ships,  in  what 
appeared  to  them  a  mad  and  desperate  enterprise. 
During  the  equipment  of  the  vessels,  troubles  and 
difficulties  arose  among  the  seamen  who  had  been 
compelled  to  embark.  These  were  fomented  and 
kept  up  by  Gomez  Rascon  and  Christoval  Ouin- 
tero,  owners  of  the  Pinto,  one  of  the  ships  pressed 
into  the  service.  All  kinds  of  obstacles  were 
thrown  in  the  way,  by  these  people  and  their 
friends,  to  retard  or  defeat  the  voyage.  The  calk- 
ers  employed  upon  the  vessels  did  their  work  in  a 
careless  and  imperfect  manner,  and  on  being 
commanded  to  do  it  over  again  absconded.* 
Some  of  the  seamen  who  had  enlisted  willingly  re- 
pented of  their  hardihood,  or  were  dissuaded  by 
their  relatives,  and  sought  to  retract ;  others  de- 
serted and  concealed  themselves.  Everything 
had  to  be  effected  by  the  most  harsh  and  arbitrary- 
measures,  and  in  defiance  of  popular  prejudice 
and  opposition. 

The  influence  and  example  of  the  Pinzons  had 
a  great  effect  in  allaying  this  opposition,  and  in- 
ducing many  of  their  friends  and  relatives  to  em- 
bark. It  is  supposed  that  they  had  furnished 
Columbus  with  funds  to  pay  the  eighth  part  of  the 
expense  which  he  was  bound  to  advance.  It  is 
also  said  that  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon  was  to  divide 
with  him  his  share  of  the  profits.  As  no  imme- 
diate profit,  however,  resulted  from  this  expedi- 
tion, no  claim  of  the  kind  was  ever  brought  for- 
ward. It  is  certain,  however,  that  the  assistance 
of  the  Pinzons  was  all-important,  if  not  indispen- 
sable, in  fitting  out  and  launching  the  expedition. f 

After  the  great  difficulties  made  by  various 
courts  in  patronizing  this  enterprise,  it  is  surpris- 
ing how  inconsiderable  an  armament  was  re- 
quired. It  is  evident  that  Columbus  had  reduced 
his  requisitions  to  the  narrowest  limits,  lest  any- 
great  expense  should  cause  impediment.  Three 
small  vessels  were  apparently  all  that  he  had  re- 
quested. Two  of  them  were  light  barks,  called 
caravels,  not  superior  to  river  and  coasting  craft 
of  more  modern  days.  Representations  of  this 
class  of  vessels  exist  in  old  prints  and  paintings.  J 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  77,  MS. 

f  These  facts  concerning  the  Pinzons  are  mostly- 
taken  from  the  testimony  given,  many  years  after- 
ward, in  a  suit  between  Don  Diego,  the  son  of  Colum- 
bus, and  the  crown. 

J  See  illustrations,  article  "  Ship*  of  Columbus." 


!  They  are  delineated  as  open,   and  without  deck 

•  in  the  centre,  but  built  up  high  at  the  prow  and 
stern,  with  forecastles  and  cabins  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  crew.  Peter  Martyr,  the  learned 
contemporary  of  Columbus,  says  that  only  one  of 

j  the  three  vessels  was  decked.  The  smallness  of 
the  vessels  was  considered  an  advantage  by  Co- 

|  lumbus,  in  a  voyage  of  discover)',  enabling  him 

j  to  run  close  to  the  shores,  and  to  enter  shallow 
rivers  and  harbors.  In  his  third  voyage,  when 

'•  coasting  the  Gulf  of  Paria,  he  complained  of  the 
size  of  his  ship,  being  nearly  a  hundred  tons  bur- 
den. But  that  such  long  and  perilous  expedi- 
tions, into  unknown  seas,  should  be  undertaken 
in  vessels  without  decks,  and  that  they  should  live 
through  the  violent  tempests,  by  which  they  were 

;  frequently  assailed,  remain  among  the  singular 
circumstances  of  these  daring  voyages. 

At  length,  by  the  beginning  of  August,  every 
difficulty  was  vanquished,  and  the  vessels  were 
ready  for  sea.  The  largest,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared expressly  for  the  voyage,  and  was  decked, 
was  called  the  Santa  Maria  ;  on  board  of  this 
ship  Columbus  hoisted  his  flag.  The  second,  call- 
ed the  Pinta,  was  commanded  by  Martin  Alonzo 
Pinzon,  accompanied  by  his  brother  Francisco 
Martin,  as  pilot.  The  third,  called  the  Nina, 
had  latine  sails,  and  was  commanded  by  the  third 
of  the  brothers,  Vicente  Yafiez  Pinzon.  There 
were  three  other  pilots,  Sancho  Ruiz,  Pedro 

1  Alonzo  Nifio,  and  Bartolomeo  Roldan.  Roderi- 
go  Sanchez  of  Segovia  was  inspector-general  of 
the  armament,  and  Diego  de  Arana,  a  native  of 

i  Cordova,  chief  alguazil.  Roderigo  de  Escobar 
went  as  a  royal  notary,  an  officer  always  sent  in 
the  armaments  of  the  crown,  to  take  official  notes 
of  all  transactions.  There  were  also  a  physician 
and  a  surgeon,  together  with  various  private  ad- 
venturers, several  servants,  and  ninety  mariners  ; 
making  in  all  one  hundred  and  twenty  persons.* 
The  squadron  being  ready  to  put  to  sea,  Colum- 

!  bus,  impressed  with  the  solemnity  of  his  under- 
taking, confessed  himself  to  the  Friar  Juan  Perez, 
and  partook  of  the  sacrament  of  the  communion. 
His  example  was  followed  by  his  officers  and 
crew,  and  they  entered  upon  their  enterprise  full 
of  awe,  and  with  the  most  devout  and  affecting 
ceremonials,  committing  themselves  to  the  especial 
guidance  and  protection  of  Heaven.  A  deep  gloom 
was  spread  over  the  whole  community  of  Palos  at 
their  departure,  for  almost  ever)'  one  had  some 
relative  or  friend  on  board  of  the  squadron.  The 
spirits  of  the  seamen,  already  depressed  by  their 
own  fears,  were  still  more  cast  down  at  the  afflic- 
tion of  those  they  left  behind,  who  took  leave  of 
them  with  tears  and  lamentations  and  dismal 
forebodings,  as  of  men  they  were  never  to  behold 
again. 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.   Domingo,  lib.  i. 
Hist.  Nuevo  Mundo,  lib.  ii. 


Mufloz, 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


35 


BOOK   III. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEPARTURE  OF  COLUMBUS  ON  HIS  FIRST  VOYAGE. 
[1492.] 

WHEN  Columbus  set  sail  on  this  memorable 
voyage,  he  commenced  a  regular  journal,  intend- 
ed for  the  inspection  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns. 
Like  all  his  other  transactions,  it  evinces  how 
deeply  he  was  impressed  with  the  grandeur  and 
solemnity  of  his  enterprise.  He  proposed  to  keep 
it,  as  he  afterward  observed,  in  the  manner  of  the 
Commentaries  of  Caesar.  It  opened  with  a  stately 
prologue,  wherein,  in  the  following  words,  were 
set  forth  the  motives  and  views  which  led  to  his 
expedition. 

"  In  nomine  D.  N.  Jesu  Christi.  Whereas  most 
Christian,  most  high,  most  excellent  and  most 
powerful  princes,  king  and  queen  of  the  Spains, 
and  of  the  islands  of  the  sea,  our  sovereigns,  in 
the  present  year  of  1492,  after  your  highnesses 
had  put  an  end  to  the  war  with  the  Moors  who 
ruled  in  Europe,  and  had  concluded  that  warfare 
in  the  great  city  of  Granada,  where,  on  the  sec- 
ond of  January,  of  this  present  year,  I  saw  the 
royal  banners  of  your  highnesses  placed  by  force 
of  arms  on  the  towers  of  the  Alhambra,  which  is 
the  fortress  of  that  city,  and  beheld  the  Moorish 
king  sally  forth  from  the  gates  of  the  city,  and 
kiss  the  royal  hands  of  your  highnesses  and  of  my 
lord  the  prince  ;  and  immediately  in  that  same 
month,  in  consequenCe  of  the  information  which  I 
had  given  to  your  highnesses  of  the  lands  of  In- 
dia, and  of  a  prince  who  is  called  the  Grand 
Khan,  which  is  to  say  in  our  language,  king  of 
kings  ;  how  that  many  times  he  and  his  predeces- 
sors had  sent  to  Rome  to  entreat  for  doctors  of  our 
holy  faith,  to  instruct  him  in  the  same  ;  and  that  the 
holy  father  had  never  provided  him  with  them,  and 
thus  so  many  people  were  lost,  believing  in  idola- 
tries, and  imbibing  doctrines  of  perdition  ;  there- 
fore your  highnesses,  as  Catholic  Christians  and 
princes,  lovers  and  promoters  of  the  holy  Chris- 
tian faith,  and  enemies  of  the  sect  of  Mahomet, 
and  of  all  idolatries  and  heresies,  determined  to 
send  me,  Christopher  Columbus,  to  the  said  parts 
of  India,  to  see  the  said  princes,  and  the  people 
and  lands,  and  discover  the  nature  and  disposi- 
tion of  them  all,  and  the  means  to  be  taken  for 
the  conversion  of  them  to  our  holy  faith  ;  and  or- 
dered that  I  should  not  go  by  land  to  the  east,  by 
which  it  is  the  custom  to  go,  but  by  a  voyage  to 
the  west,  by  which  course,  unto  the  present  time, 
we  do  not  know  for  certain  that  any  one  hath 
passed.  Your  highnesses,  therefore,  after  hav- 
ing expelled  all  the  Jews  from  your  kingdoms  and 
territories,  commanded  me,  in  the  same  month  of 
January,  to  proceed  with  a  sufficient  armament  to 
the  said  parts  of  India  ;  and  for  this  purpose  be- 
stowed great  favors  upon  me,  ennobling  me,  that 
thenceforward  I  might  style  myself  Don,  appoint- 
ing me  high  admiral  of  the  Ocean  sea,  and  per- 
petual viceroy  and  governor  of  all  the  islands  and 
continents  I  should  discover  and  gain,  and  which 
henceforward  may  be  discovered  and  gained  in 
the  Ocean  sea  ;  and  that  my  eldest  son  should 
succeed  me,  and  so  on  from  generation  to  gener- 
ation for  ever.  I  departed,  therefore,  from  the 
city  of  Granada,  on  Saturday,  the  I2th  of  May,  of 


the  same  year  1492,  to  Palos,  a  seaport,  where  I 
armed  three  ships,  well  calculated  for  such  ser- 
vice, and  sailed  from  that  port  well  furnished  with 
provisions  and  with  many  seamen,  on  Friday,  the 
3d  of  August,  of  the  same  year,  half  an  hour  before 
sunrise,  and  took  the  route  for  the  Canary  Islands 
of  your  highnesses,  to  steer  my  course  thence,  and 
navigate  until  I  should  arrive  at  the  Indies,  and 
deliver  the  embassy  of  your  highnesses  to  those 
princes,  and  accomplish  that  which  you  had  com- 
manded. For  this  purpose  I  intend  to  write  dur- 
ing this  voyage,  very  punctually  from  day  to  day, 
all  that  I  may  do,  and  see,  and  experience,  as  will 
hereafter  be  seen.  Also,  my  sovereign  princes, 
besides  describing  each  night  all  that  has  oc- 
curred in  the  day,  and  in  the  day  the  navigation 
of  the  night,  I  propose  to  make  a  chart  in  which  I 
will  set  down  the  waters  and  lands  of  the  Ocean 
sea  in  their  proper  situations  under  their  bear- 
ings ;  and  further,  to  compose  a  book,  and  illus- 
trate the  whole  in  picture  by  latitude  from  the 
equinoctial,  and  longitude  from  the  west  ;  and 
upon  the  whole  it  will  be  essential  that  I  should 
forget  sleep  and  attend  closely  to  the  navigation 
to  accomplish  these  things,  which  will  be  a  great 
labor."* 

Thus  are  formally  and  expressly  stated  by  Co- 
lumbus the  objects  of  this  extraordinary  voyage. 
The  material  facts  still  extant  of  his  journal  will 
be  found  incorporated  in  the  present  work.f 

It  was  on  Friday,  the  3d  of  August,  1492,  early 
in  the  morning,  that  Columbus  set  sail  from  the 
bar  of  Saltes,  a  small  island  formed  by  the  arms 
of  the  Odiel,  in  front  of  the  town  of  Huelva,  steer- 
ing in  a  south-westerly  direction  for  the  Canary 
Islands,  whence  it  was  his  intention  to  strike  due 
west.  As  a  guide  by  which  to  sail,  he  had  pre- 
pared a  map  or  chart,  improved  upon  that  sent 
him  by  Paulo  Toscanelli.  Neither  of  those  now 
exist,  but  the  globe  or  planisphere  finished  by 
Martin  Behem  in  this  year  of  the  admiral's  first 
voyage  is  still  extant,  and  furnishes  an  idea  of 
what  the  chart  of  Columbus  must  have  been.  It 
exhibits  the  coasts  of  Europe  and  Africa  from  the 
south  of  Ireland  to  the  end  of  Guinea,  and  oppo- 
site to  them,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  the 
extremity  of  Asia,  or,  as  it  was  termed,  India. 
Between  them  is  placed  the  island  of  Cipango,  or 


*  Navarrete,  Colec.  Viag.,  torn.  i.  p.  i. 

f  An  abstract  of  this  journal,  made  by  Las  Casas, 
has  recently  been  discovered,  and  is  published  in  the 
first  volume  of  the  collection  of  Senor  Navarrete. 
Many  passages  of  this  abstract  had  been  previously 
inserted  by  Las  Casas  in  his  History  of  the  Indies, 
and  the  same  journal  had  been  copiously  used  by 
Fernando  Columbus  in  the  history  of  his  father.  In 
the  present  account  of  this  voyage,  the  author  has 
made  use  of  the  journal  contained  in  the  work  of 
Senor  Navarrete,  the  manuscript  history  of  Las  Casas, 
the  History  of  the  Indies  by  Herrera,  the  Life  of  the 
Admiral  by  his  son,  the  Chronicle  of  the  Indies  by 
Oviedo,  the  manuscript  history  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella  by  Andres  Bernaldes,  curate  of  Los  Palacios, 
and  the  Letters  and  Decades  of  the  Ocean  Sea,  by 
Peter  Martyr  ;  all  of  whom,  with  the  exception  of 
Herrera,  were  contemporaries  and  acquaintances  of 
Columbus.  These  are  the  principal  authorities  which 
have  been  consulted,  though  scattered  lights  have 
occasionally  been  obtained  from  other  sources. 


3G 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Japan,  which,  according  to  Marco  Polo,  lay  fifteen 
hundred  miles  distant  from  the  Asiatic  coast.  In 
his  computations  Columbus  advanced  this  island 
about  a  thousand  leagues  too  much  to  the  east, 
supposing  it  to  be  about  the  situation  of  Flor- 
ida ;*  and  at  this  island  he  hoped  first  to  arrive. 

The  exultation  of  Columbus  at  finding  himself, 
after  so  many  years  of  baffled  hope,  fairly  launch- 
ed on  his  grand  enterprise,  was  checked  by  his 
want  of  confidence  in  the  resolution  and  persever- 
ance of  his  crews.  As  long  as  he  remained  with- 
in reach  of  Europe,  there  was  no  security  that,  in 
a  moment  of  repentance  and  alarm,  they  might 
not  renounce  the  prosecution  of  the  voyage,  and 
insist  on  a  return.  Symptoms  soon  appeared  to 
warrant  his  apprehensions.  On  the  third  day  the 
Pinta  made  signal  of  distress  ;  her  rudder  was 
discovered  to  be  broken  and  unhung.  This 
Columbus  surmised  to  be  done  through  the  con- 
trivance of  the  owners  of  the  caravel,  Gomez 
Rascon  and  Christoval  Quintero,  to  disable  their 
vessel,  and  cause  her  to  be  left  behind.  As  has 
already  been  observed,  they  had  been  pressed  into 
the  service  greatly  against  their  will,  and  their 
caravel  seized  upon  for  the  expedition,  in  conform- 
ity to  the  royal  orders. 

Columbus  was  much  disturbed  at  this  occur- 
rence. It  gave  him  a  foretaste  of  further  diffi- 
culties to  be  apprehended  from  crews  partly  en- 
listed on  compulsion,  and  all  full  of  doubt  and 
foreboding.  Trivial  obstacles  might,  in  the 
present  critical  state  of  his  voyage,  spread  panic 
and  mutiny  through  his  ships,  and  entirely  defeat 
the  expedition. 

The  wind  was  blowing  strongly  at  the  time,  so 
that  he  could  not  render  assistance  without  endan- 
gering his  own  vessel.  Fortunately,  Martin  Alonzo 
Pinzon  commanded  the  Pinta,  and  being  an  adroit 
and  able  seaman,  succeeded  in  securing  the  rud- 
der with  cords,  so  as  to  bring  the  vessel  into  man- 
agement. This,  however,  was  but  a  temporary 
and  inadequate  expedient  ;  the  fastenings  gave 
way  again  on  the  following  day,  and  the  other 
ships  were  obliged  to  shorten  sail  until  the  rudder 
could  be  secured. 

This  damaged  state  of  the  Pinta,  as  well  as  her 
being  in  a  leaky  condition,  determined  the  ad- 
miral to  touch  at  the  Canary  Islands,  and  seek  a 
vessel  to  replace  her.  He  considered  himself  not 
far  from  those  islands,  though  a  different  opinion 
was  entertained  by  the  pilots  of  the  squadron. 
The  event  proved  his  superiority  in  taking  obser- 
vations and  keeping  reckonings,  for  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  Canaries  on  the  morning  of  the  gth. 

They  were  detained  upward  of  three  weeks 
among  these  islands,  seeking  in  vain  another  ves- 
sel. They  were  obliged,  therefore,  to  make  a 
new  rudder  for  the  Pinta,  and  repair  her  for  the 
voyage.  The  latine  sails  of  the  Nifia  were  also 
altered  into  square  sails,  that  she  might  work 
more  steadily  and  securely,  and  be  able  to  keep 
company  with  the  other  vessels. 

While  sailing  among  these  islands,  the  crew 
were  terrified  at  beholding  the  lofty  peak  of  Ten- 
eriffe  sending  forth  volumes  of  flame  and  smoke, 
being  ready  to  take  alarm  at  any  extraordinary 
phenomenon,  and  to  construe  it  into  a  disastrous 
portent.  Columbus  took  great  pains  to  dispel  their 
apprehensions,  explaining  the  natural  causes  of 
those  volcanic  fires,  and  verifying  his  explanations 
by  citing  Mount  Etna  and  other  well-known  vol- 


*  Malte-Brun,  Geograph.    Universelle,  torn.  ii.  p. 

283. 


While  taking  in  wood  and  water  and  provisions 
in  the  island  of  Gomera,  a  vessel  arrived  from 
Ferro,  which  reported  that  three  Portuguese  car- 
avels had  been  seen  hovering  off  that  island,  with 
the  intention,  it  was  said,  ot  capturing  Columbus. 
The  admiral  suspected  some  hostile  stratagem  on 
the  part  of  the  King  of  Portugal,  in  revenge  for  his 
having  embarked  in  the  service  of  Spain  ;  he 
therefore  lost  no  time  in  putting  to  sea,  anxious 
to  get  far  from  those  islands,  and  out  of  the  track 
of  navigation,  trembling  lest  something  might  oc- 
cur to  defeat  his  expedition,  commenced  under 
such  inauspicious  circumstances. 


CHAPTER  II. 

CONTINUATION    OF  THE  VOYAGE— FIRST    NOTICE 
OF  THE  VARIATION   OF  THE  NEEDLE. 

[1492.] 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  September 
Columbus  set  sail  from  the  island  of  Gomera,  and 
now  might  be  said  first  to  strike  into  the  region  of 
discovery  ;  taking  leave  of  these  frontier  islands 
of  the  Old  World,  and  steering  westward  for  the 
unknown  parts  of  the  Atlantic.  For  three  days, 
however,  a  profound  calm  kept  the  vessels  loiter- 
ing with  flagging  sails,  within  a  short  distance  of 
the  land.  This  was  a  tantalizing  delay  to  Colum- 
bus, who  was  impatient  to  find  himself  far  out  of 
sight  of  either  land  or  sail  ;  which,  in  the  pure 
atmospheres  of  these  latitudes,  may  be  descried 
at  an  immense  distance.  On  the  following  Sun- 
day, the  Qth  of  September,  at  daybreak,  he  beheld 
Ferro,  the  last  ot  the  Canary  Islands,  about  nine 
leagues  distant.  This  was  the  island  whence  the 
Portuguese  caravels  had  been  seen  ;  he  was  there- 
fore in  the  very  neighborhood  of  clanger.  For- 
tunately, a  breeze  sprang  up  with  the  sun,  their 
sails  were  once  more  filled,  and  in  the  course  of 
the  day  the  heights  of  Ferro  gradually  faded  from 
the  horizon. 

On  losing  sight  of  this  last  trace  of  land,  the 
hearts  of  the  crews  failed  them.  They  seemed 
literally  to  have  taken  leave  of  the  world.  Be- 
hind them  was  everything  dear  to  the  heart  of 
man  ;  country,  family,  friends,  life  itself  ;  before 
them  everything  was  chaos,  mystery,  and  peril. 
In  the  perturbation  of  the  moment,  they  despaired 
of  ever  more  seeing  their  homes.  Many  of  the 
rugged  seamen  shed  tears,  and  some  broke  into 
loud  lamentations.  The  admiral  tried  in  every 
way  to  soothe  their  distress,  and  to  inspire  them 
with  his  own  glorious  anticipations.  He  described 
to  them  the  magnificent  countries  to  which  he  was 
about  to  conduct  them  :  the  islands  of  the  Indian 
seas  teeming  with  gold  and  precious  stones  ;  the 
regions  of  Mangi  and  Cathay,  with  their  cities 
ot  unrivalled  wealth  and  splendor.  He  promised 
them  land  and  riches,  and  everything  that  could 
arouse  their  cupidity  or  inflame  their  imagina- 
tions, nor  were  these  promises  made  for  purposes 
of  mere  deception  ;  he  certainly  believed  that  he 
should  realize  them  all. 

He  now  issued  orders  to  the  commanders  of  the 
other  vessels,  that,  in  the  event  of  separation  by 
any  accident,  they  should  continue  directly  west- 
ward ;  but  that  after  sailing  seven  hundred 
leagues,  they  should  lay  by  from  midnight  until 
daylight,  as  at  about  that  distance  he  confidently 
expected  to  find  land.  In  the  mean  time,  as  he 
thought  it  possible  he  might  not  discover  land 
within  the  distance  thus  assigned,  and  as  he  fore- 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


3? 


saw  that  the  vague  terrors  already  awakened 
among  the  seamen  would  increase  with  the  space 
which  intervened  between  them  and  their  homes, 
he  commenced  a  stratagem  which  he  continued 
throughout  the  voyage.  He  kept  two  reckonings  ; 
one  correct,  in  which  the  true  way  of  the  ship  was 
noted,  and  which  was  retained  in  secret  for  his 
own  government  ;  in  the  other,  which  was  open 
to  general  inspection,  a  number  of  leagues  was 
daily  subtracted  from  the  sailing  of  the  ship,  so 
that  the  crews  were  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  real 
distance  they  had  advanced.* 

On  the  nth  of  September,  when  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  leagues  west  of  Ferro,  they  fell 
in  with  part  of  a  mast,  which  from  its  size  appear- 
ed to  have  belonged  to  a  vessel  of  about  a  hun- 
dred and  twenty  tons  burden,  and  which  had  ev- 
idently been  a  long  time  in  the  water.  The 
crews,  tremblingly  alive  to  everything  that  could 
excite  their  hopes  or  fears,  looked  with  rueful  eye 
upon  this  wreck  of  some  unfortunate  voyager, 
drifting  ominously  at  the  entrance  of  those  un- 
known seas. 

On  the  1 3th  of  September,  in  the  evening,  being 
about  two  hundred  leagues  from  the  island  of 
Ferro,  Columbus  for  the  first  time  noticed  the 
variation  of  the  needle,  a  phenomenon  which  had 
never  before  been  remarked.  He  perceived  about 
nightfall  that  the  needle,  instead  of  pointing  to 
the  north  star,  varied  about  half  a  point,  or  be- 
tween five  and  six  degrees,  to  the  north-west,  and 
still  more  on  the  following  morning.  Struck  with 
this  circumstance,  he  observed  it  attentively  for 
three  days,  and  found  that  the  variation  increased 
as  he  advanced.  He  at  first  made  no  mention  of 
this  phenomenon,  knowing  how  ready  his  people 
were  to  take  alarm,  but  it  soon  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  the  pilots,  and  filled  them  with  conster- 
nation. It  seemed  as  if  the  very  laws  of  nature 
were  changing,  as  they  advanced,  and  that  they 
were  entering  another  world,  subject  to  unknown 
influences.!  They  apprehended  that  the  com- 
pass was  about  to  lose  its  mysterious  virtues,  and, 
without  this  guide,  what  was  to  become  of  them 
in  a  vast  and  trackless  ocean  ? 

Columbus  tasked  his  science  and  ingenuity  for 
reasons  with  which  to  allay  their  terror.  He  ob- 
served that  the  direction  of  the  needle  was  not  to 
the  polar  star,  but  to  some  fixed  and  invisible 
point.  The  variation,  therefore,  was  not  caused 
by  any  fallacy  in  the  compass,  but  by  the  move- 
ment of  the  north  star  itself,  which,  like  the  other 
heavenly  bodies,  had  its  changes  and  revolutions, 
and  every  day  described  a  circle  round  the  pole. 
The  high  opinion  which  the  pilots  entertained  of 
Columbus  as  a  profound  astronomer  gave  weight 
to  this  theory,  and  their  alarm  subsided.  As  yet 
the  solar  system  of  Copernicus  was  unknown  ;  the 
explanation  of  Columbus,  therefore,  was  highly 
plausible  and  ingenious,  and  it  shows  the  vivacity 
of  his  mind,  ever  ready  to  meet  the  emergency  of 
the  moment.  The  theory  may  at  first  have  been  ad- 
vanced merely  to  satisfy  the  minds  of  others,  but 
Columbus  appears  subsequently  to  have  remained 


*  It  has  been  erroneously  stated  that  Columbus 
kept  two  journals.  It  was  merely  in  the  reckoning, 
or  log-book,  that  he  deceived  the  crew.  His  journal 
was  entirely  private,  and  intended  for  his  own  use 
and  the  perusal  of  the  sovereigns.  In  a  letter  written 
from  Granada,  in  1503,  to  Pope  Alexander  VII.,  he 
says  that  he  had  kept  an  account  of  his  voyages,  in 
the  style  of  the  Commentaries  of  Caesar,  which  he  in- 
tended to  submit  to  his  holiness. 

f  Las  Casas,  Hist  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  6. 


satisfied  with  it  himself.  The  phenomenon  has 
now  become  familiar  to  us,  but  we  still  continue 
ignorant  of  its  cause.  It  is  one  of  those  mysteries 
of  nature,  open  to  daily  observation  and  experi- 
ment, and  apparently  simple  from  their  familiar- 
ity, but  which  on  investigation  make  the  human 
mind  conscious  of  its  limits  ;  baffling  the  experi- 
ence of  the  practical,  and  humbling  the  pride  of 
science. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONTINUATION    OF   THE  VOYAGE — VARIOUS  TER- 
RORS  OF    THE  SEAMEN. 

[1492.] 

ON  the  1 4th  of  September  the  voyagers  were  re- 
joiced by  the  sight  of  what  they  considered  har- 
bingers of  land.  A  heron,  and  a  tropical  bird 
called  the  Rabo  de  Junco,*  neither  of  which  are 
supposed  to  venture  far  to  sea,  hovered  about  the 
ships.  On  the  following  night  they  were  struck 
with  awe  at  beholding  a  meteor,  or,  as  Columbus 
calls  it  in  his  journal,  a  great  flame  of  fire,  which 
seemed  to  fall  from  the  sky  into  the  sea,  about 
four  or  five  leagues  distant.  These  meteors,  com- 
mon in  warm  climates,  and  especially  under  the 
tropics,  are  always  seen  in  the  serene  azure  sky 
of  those  latitudes,  falling  as  it  were  from  the 
heavens,  but  never  beneath  a  cloud.  In  the  trans- 
parent atmosphere  of  one  of  those  beautiful  nights, 
where  every  star  shines  with  the  purest  lustre, 
they  often  leave  a  luminous  train  behind  them 
which  lasts  for  twelve  or  fifteen  seconds,  and  may 
well  be  compared  to  a  flame. 

The  wind  had  hitherto  been  favorable,  with  oc- 
casional though  transient  clouds  and  showers. 
They  had  made  great  progress  each  day,  though 
Columbus,  according  to  his  secret  plan,  contrived 
to  suppress  several  leagues  in  the  daily  reckoning 
left  open  to  the  crew. 

They  had  now  arrived  within  the  influence  of 
the  trade  wind,  which,  following  the  sun,  blows 
steadily  from  east  to  west  between  the  tropics, 
and  sweeps  over  a  few  adjoining  degrees  of  ocean. 
With  this  propitious  breeze  directly  aft,  they  were 
wafted  gently  but  speedily  over  a  tranquil  sea,  so 
that  for  many  days  they  did  not  shift  a  sail.  Co- 
lumbus perpetually  recurs  to  the  bland  and  tem- 
perate serenity  of  the  weather,  which  in  this  tract 
of  the  ocean  is  soft  and  refreshing  without  being 
cool.  In  his  artless  and  expressive  language  he 
compares  the  pure  and  balmy  mornings  to  those 
of  April  in  Andalusia,  and  observes  that  they 
wanted  but  the  song  of  the  nightingale  to  com- 
plete the  illusion.  "  He  had  reason  to  say  so," 
observes  the  venerable  Las  Casas  ;  "  for  it  is 
marvellous  the  suavity  which  we  experience  when 
half  way  toward  these  Indies  ;  and  the  more  the 
ships  approach  the  lands  so  much  more  do  they 
perceive  the  temperance  and  softness  of  the  air, 
the  clearness  of  the  sky,  and  the  amenity  and  fra- 
grance sent  forth  from  the  groves  and  forests  ; 
much  more  certainly  than  in  April  in  Andalu- 
sia." f 

They  now  began  to  see  large  patches  of  herbs 
and  weeds  drifting  from  the  west,  and  increasing 
in  quantity  as  they  advanced.  Some  of  these 
weeds  were  such  as  grow  about  rocks,  others  such 
as  are  produced  in  rivers  ;  some  were  yellow  and 
withered,  others  so  green  as  to  have  apparently 


The  -water-wagtail. 

Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  36,  MS. 


38 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


been  recently  washed  from  land.  On  one  of  these 
patches  was  a  live  crab,  which  Columbus  care- 
fully preserved.  They  saw  also  a  white  tropical 
bird,  of  a  kind  which  never  sleeps  upon  the  sea. 
Tunny  fish  also  played  about  the  ships,  one  of 
which  was  killed  by  the  crew  of  the  Nifia.  Co- 
lumbus now  called  to  mind  the  account  given  by 
Aristotle  of  certain  ships  of  Cadiz,  which,  coasting 
the  shores  outside  of  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  were 
driven  westward  by  an  impetuous  east  wind,  until 
they  reached  a  part  of  the  ocean  covered  with  vast 
fields  of  weeds,  resembling  sunken  islands,  among 
which  they  beheld  many  tunny  fish.  He  supposed 
himself  arrived  in  this  weedy  sea,  as  it  had  been 
called,  from  which  the  ancient  mariners  had 
turned  back  in  dismay,  but  which  he  regarded 
with  animated  hope,  as  indicating  the  vicinity  of 
land.  Not  that  he  had  yet  any  idea  of  reaching 
the  object  of  his  search,  the  eastern  end  of  Asia  ; 
for,  according  to  his  computation,  he  had  come 
but  three  hundred  and  sixty  leagues*  since  leav- 
ing the  Canary  Islands,  and  he  placed  the  main 
land  of  India  much  farther  on. 

On  the  1 8th  of  September  the  same  weather  con- 
tinued ;  a  soft  steady  breeze  from  the  east  filled 
every  sail,  while,  to  use  the  words  of  Columbus, 
the  sea  was  as  calm  as  the  Guadalquiver  at  Sev- 
ille. He  fancied  that  the  water  of  the  sea  grew 
fresher  as  he  advanced,  and  noticed  this  as  a  proof 
of  the  superior  sweetness  and  purity  of  the  air.f 

The  crews  were  all  in  high  spirits  ;  each  ship 
strove  to  get  in  the  advance,  and  every  seaman 
was  eagerly  on  the  look-out ;  for  the  sovereigns 
had  promised  a  pension  of  ten  thousand  mara- 
vedis  to  him  who  should  first  discover  land.  Mar- 
tin Alonzo  Pinzon  crowded  all  canvas,  and,  as  the 
Pinta  was  a  fast  sailer,  he  generally  kept  the  lead. 
In  the  afternoon  he  hailed  the  admiral  and  in- 
formed him  that,  from  the  flight  of  a  great  num- 
ber of  birds  and  from  the  appearance  of  the 
northern  horizon,  he  thought  there  was  land  in 
that  direction. 

There  was  in  fact  a  cloudiness  in  the  north, 
such  as  often  hangs  over  land  ;  and  at  sunset  it 
assumed  such  shapes  and  masses  that  many  fan- 
cied they  beheld  islands.  There  was  a  universal 
wish,  therefore,  to  steer  for  that  quarter.  Colum- 
bus, however,  was  persuaded  that  they  were  mere 
illusions.  Every  one  who  has  made  a  sea  voyage 
must  have  witnessed  the  deceptions  caused  by 
clouds  resting  upon  the  hbrizon,  especially  about 
sunset  and  sunrise  ;  which  the  eye,  assisted  by 
the  imagination  and  desire,  easily  converts  into 
the  wished-for  land.  This  is  particularly  the 
case  .within  the  tropics,  where  the  clouds  at  sun- 
set assume  the  most  singular  appearances. 

On  the  following  day  there  were  drizzling  show- 
ers, unaccompanied  by  wind,  which  Columbus 
considered  favorable  signs  ;  two  boobies  also  flew 
on  board  the  ships,  birds  which,  he  observed, 
seldom  fly  twenty  leagues  from  land.  He  sound- 
ed, therefore,  with  a  line  of  two  hundred  fathoms, 
but  found  no  bottom.  He  supposed  he  might 
be  passing  between  islands,  lying  to  the  north 
and  south,  but  was  unwilling  to  waste  the  pres- 
ent favoring  breeze  by  going  in  search  of  them  ; 
besides,  he  had  confidently  affirmed  that  land  was 
to  be  found  by  keeping  steadfastly  to  the  west ; 
his  whole  expedition  had  been  founded  on  such  a 
presumption  ;  he  should,  therefore,  risk  all  credit 
and  authority  with  his  people  were  he  to  appear 


*  Of  twenty  to  the  degree  of  latitude,  the  unity  of 
distance  used  throughout  this  work, 
f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  36. 


to  doubt  and  waver,  and  to  go  groping  blindly 
from  point  to  point  of  the  compass.  He  resolved, 
therefore,  to  keep  one  bold  course  always  west- 
ward, until  he  should  reach  the  coast  of  India  ; 
and  afterward,  if  advisable,  to  seek  these  islands 
on  his  return.* 

Notwithstanding  his  precaution  to  keep  the  peo- 
ple ignorant  of  the  distance  they  had  sailed,  they 
were  now  growing  extremely  uneasy  at  the  length 
of  the  voyage.  They  had  advanced  much  farther 
west  than  ever  man  had  sailed  before,  and  though 
already  beyond  the  reach  of  succor,  still  they 
continued  daily  leaving  vast  tracts  of  ocean  behind 
them,  and  pressing  onward  and  onward  into  that 
apparently  boundless  abyss.  It  is  true  they  had 
been  flattered  by  various  indications  of  land,  and 
still  others  were  occurring  ;  but  all  mocked  them 
with  vain  hopes  :  after  being  hailed  with  a  tran- 
sient joy,  they  passed  away,  one  after  another, 
and  the  same  interminable  expanse  of  sea  and  sky 
continued  to  extend  before  them.  Even  the  bland 
and  gentle  breeze,  uniformly  aft,  was  now  conjured 
by  their  ingenious  fears  into  a  cause  of  alarm  ;  for 
they  began  to  imagine  that  the  wind,  in  these 
seas,  might  always  prevail  from  the  east,  and  if 
so,  would  never  permit  their  return  to  Spain. 

Columbus  endeavored  to  dispel  these  gloomy 
presages,  sometimes  by  argument  and  expostula- 
tion, sometimes  by  awakening  fresh  hopes,  and 
pointing  out  new  signs  of  land.  On  the  2oth  of 
September  the  wind  veered,  with  light  breezes 
from  the  south-west.  These,  though  adverse  to 
their  progress,  had  a'  cheering  effect  upon  the  peo- 
ple, as  they  proved  that  the  wind  did  not  always 
prevail  from  the  east.f  Several  birds  also  visited 
the  ships  ;  three,  of  a  small  kind  which  keep  about 
groves  and  orchards,  came  singing  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  flew  away  again  in  the  evening.  Their 
song  cheered  the  hearts  of  the  dismayed  mariners, 
who  hailed  it  as  the  voice  of  land.  The  larger 
fowl,  they  observed,  were  strong  of  wing,  and 
might  venture  far  to  sea  ;  but  such  small  birds 
were  too  feeble  to  fly  far,  and  their  singing  showed 
that  they  were  not  exhausted  by  their  flight. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  either  a  pro- 
found calm  or  light  winds  from  the  south-west. 
The  sea,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  was  cov- 
ered with  weeds  ;  a  phenomenon,  often  observed 
in  this  part  of  the  ocean,  which  has  sometimes  the 
appearance  of  a  vast  inundated  meadow.  This 
has  been  attributed  to  immense  quantities  of  sub- 
marine plants,  which  grow  at  the  bottom  of  the 
sea  until  ripe,  when  they  are  detached  by  the  mo- 
tion of  the  waves  and  currents,  and  rise  to  the 
surface.  J  These  fields  of  weeds  were  at  first  re- 
garded with  great  satisfaction,  but  at  length  they 
became,  in  many  places,  so  dense  and  matted  as 
in  some  degree  to  impede  the  sailing  of  the  ships, 
which  must  have  been  under  very  little  headway. 
The  crews  now  called  to  mind  some  tale  about 
the  frozen  ocean,  where  ships  were  said  to  be  some- 
times fixed  immovable.  They  endeavored,  there- 
fore, to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  these  floating 
masses,  lest  some  disaster  of  the  kind  might  happen 
to  themselves. g  Others  considered  these  weeds  as 
proof  that  the  sea  was  growing  shallower,  and 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  20.  Extracts  from 
Journal  of  Columb.  Navarrete,  t.  i.  p.  16. 

f  Mucho  me  fue  necesario  este  viento  contrario, 
porque  mi  gente  andaban  muy  estimulados,  que  pen- 
saban  que  no  ventaban  estos  mares  vientos  para  vol- 
ver  a  Espana.  Primer  Viage  de  Colon,  Navarrete, 
torn.  i.  p.  12. 

f  Humboldt,  Personal  Narrative,  book  i.  cap.  i. 

§  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  18. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


39 


began  to  talk  of  lurking  rocks,  and  shoals,  and 
treacherous   quicksands  ;    and    of  the   danger  o 
running  aground,  as  it  were,  in  the  midst  of  the 
ocean,  where  their  vessels  might  rot  and  fall  to 
pieces,  far  out  of  the  track  of  human   aid,  anc 
without  any  shore  where  the  crews  might  take 
refuge.     They  had  evidently  some  confused  no 
tion  of  the  ancient  story  of  the  sunken  island  o 
Atalantis,  and  feared  that  they  were  arriving  a 
that  part  of  the  ocean  where  navigation  was  saic 
to  be  obstructed  by  drowned  lands,  and  the  ruins 
of  an  engulfed  country. 

To  dispel  these  fears,  the  admiral  had  frequen. 
recourse  to  the  lead  ;  but  though  he  sounded  with 
a  deep-sea  line,  he  still  found  no  bottom.  The 
minds  of  the  crews,  however,  had  gradually  be 
come  diseased.  They  were  full  of  vague  terrors 
and  superstitious  fancies  :  they  construed  every- 
thing into  a  cause  of  alarm,  and  harassed  their 
commander  by  incessant  murmurs. 

For  three  days  there  was  a  continuance  of  light 
summer  airs  from  the  southward  and  westward, 
and  the  sea  was  as  smooth  as  a  mirror.  A  whale 
was  seen  heaving  up  its  huge  form  at  a  distance, 
which  Columbus  immediately  pointed  out  as  a 
favorable  indication,  affirming  that  these  fish  were 
generally  in  the  neighborhood  of  land.  The 
crews,  however,  "became  uneasy  at  the  calmness 
of  the  weather.  They  observed  that  the  contrary 
winds  which  they  experienced  were  transient  and 
unsteady,  and  so  light  as  not  to  ruffle  the  surface 
of  the  sea,  which  maintained  a  sluggish  calm  like 
a  lake  of  dead  water.  Everything  differed,  they 
said,  in  these  strange  regions  from  the  world  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed.  The  only 
winds  which  prevailed  with  any  constancy  and 
force,  were  from  the  east,  and  they  had  not  power 
to  disturb  the  torpid  stillness  of  the  ocean  ;  there 
was  a  risk,  therefore,  either  of  perishing  amid 
stagnant  and  shoreless  waters,  or  of  being  pre- 
vented, by  contrary  winds,  from  ever  returning  to 
their  native  country. 

Columbus  continued  with  admirable  patience  to 
reason  with  these  fancies  ;  observing  that  the 
calmness  of  the  sea  must  undoubtedly  be  caused 
by  the  vicinity  of  land  in  the  quarter  whence  the 
wind  blew,  which,  therefore,  had  not  space  suffi- 
cient to  act  upon  the  surface  and  heave  up  large 
waves.  Terror,  however,  multiplies  and  varies 
the  forms  of  ideal  danger  a  thousand  times  faster 
than  the  most  active  wisdom  can  dispel  them. 
The  more  Columbus  argued,  the  more  boisterous 
became  the  murmurs  of  his  crew,  until,  on  Sun- 
day, the  25th  of  September,  there  came  on  a  heavy 
swell  of  the  sea,  unaccompanied  by  wind.  This 
phenomenon  often  occurs  in  the  broad  ocean  ; 
being  either  the  expiring  undulations  of  some  past 
gale,  or  the  movement  given  to  the  sea  by  some 
distant  current  of  wind  ;  it  was,  nevertheless,  re- 
garded with  astonishment  by  the  mariners,  and 
dispelled  the  imaginary  terrors  occasioned  by  the 
calm. 

Columbus,  who  as  usual  considered  himself 
under  the  immediate  eye  and  guardianship  of 
Heaven  in  this  solemn  enterprise,  intimates  in  his 
journal  that  this  swelling  of  the  sea  seemed  provi- 
dentially ordered  to  allay  the  rising  clamors  of 
his  crew  ;  comparing  it  to  that  which  so  miracu- 
lously aided  Moses  when  conducting  the  children 
of  Israel  out  of  the  captivity  of  Egypt.* 

"  Como  la  mar  estuviese  mansa  y  liana  mur- 
muraba  la  gente  diciendo  que,  pues  por  alii  no  habia 
mar  grande  que  nunca  ventariapara  volver  d  Espana  ; 
pero  despues  alzose  mucho  la  mar  y  sin  viento,  que 


CHAPTER   IV. 


CONTINUATION  OF  THE  VOYAGE— DISCOVERY   OF 
LAND. 

[1492.] 

THE  situation  of  Columbus  was  daily  becoming 
more  and  more  critical.  In  proportion  as  he  ap- 
proached the  regions  where  he  expected  to  find 
land,  the  impatience  of  his  crews  augmented. 
The  favorable  signs  which  increased  his  confi- 
dence, were  derided  by  them  as  delusive  ;  and 
there  was  danger  of  their  rebelling,  and  obliging 
him  to  turn  back,  when  on  the  point  of  realizing 
the  object  of  all  his  labors.  They  beheld  them- 
selves with  dismay  still  wafted  onward,-  over  the 
boundless  wastes  of  what  appeared  to  them  a 
mere  watery  desert,  surrounding  the  habitable 
world.  What  was  to  become  of  them  should  their 
provisions  fail  ?  Their  ships  were  too  weak  and 
defective  even  for  the  great  voyage  they  had 
already  made,  but  if  they  were  still  to  press  for- 
ward, adding  at  every  moment  to  the  immense 
expanse  behind  them,  how  should  they  ever  be 
able  to  return,  having  no  intervening  port  where 
they  might  victual  and  refit. 

In  this  way  they  fed  each  other's  discontents, 
gathering  together  in  little  knots,  and  fomenting 
a  spirit  of  mutinous  opposition  ;  and  when  we 
consider  the  natural  fire  of  the  Spanish  tempera- 
ment and  its  impatience  of  control  ;  and  that  a 
great  part  of  these  men  were  sailing  on  compul- 
sion, we  cannot  wonder  that  there  was  imminent 
danger  of  their  breaking  forth  into  open  rebellion 
and  compelling  Columbus  to  turn  back.  In  their 
secret  conferences  they  exclaimed  against  him  as 
a  desperado,  bent,  in  a  mad  phantasy,  upon  doing 
something  extravagant  to  render  himself  notorious. 
What  were  their  sufferings  and  dangers  to  one 
evidently  content  to  sacrifice  his  own  lite  for  the 
chance  of  distinction  ?  What  obligations  bound 
them  to  continue  on  with  him  ;  or  when  were  the 
terms  of  their  agreement  to  be  considered  as  ful- 
filled ?  They  had  already  penetrated  unknown 
seas,  untraversed  by  a  sail,  far  beyond  where  man 
had  ever  before  ventured.  They  had  done  enough 
to  gain  themselves  a  character  for  courage  and 
hardihood  in  undertaking  such  an  enterprise  and 
persisting  in  it  so  far.  How  much  farther  were 
they  to  go  in  quest  of  a  merely  conjectured  land  ? 
Were  they  to  sail  on  until  they  perished,  or  until 
all  return  became  impossible  ?  In  such  case  they 
would  be  the  authors  of  their  own  destruction. 

On  the  other  hand,  should  they  consult  their 
safety,  and  turn  back  before  too  late,  who  would 
blame  them  ?  Any  complaints  made  by  Colum- 
bus would  be  of  no  weight  ;  he  was  a  foreigner, 
without  friends  or  influence  ;  his  schemes  had 
been  condemned  by  the  learned,  and  discounte- 
nanced by  people  of  all  ranks.  He  had  no  party 
to  uphold  him,  and  a  host  of  opponents  whose 
pride  of  opinion  would  be  gratified  by  his  failure. 
3r,  as  an  effectual  means  of  preventing  his  com- 
plaints, they  might  throw  him  into  the  sea,  and 
jive  out  that  he  had  fallen  overboard  while  busy 
with  his  instruments  contemplating  the  stars  ;  a 
report  which  no  one  would  have  either  the  inclina 
tion  or  the  means  to  controvert.* 


os  asombraba  ;  por  lo  cual  dice  aqui  el  Almirante  ; 
asi  que  muy  necesario  me  fuJ  la  mar  alta,  qtie  no 
fiarecid,  salvo  el  tiempo  de  los  Judios  cuando  salicron  de 
Egipto  contra  Moyses  que  los  sacaba  de  captiverio." — • 
"ournal  of  Columb..  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  12. 
*  Hisl.  del  Almirante,  cap.  19.  Herrera,  Hist 

nd.,  decad.  i.  lib.  i.  cap.  10. 


40 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Columbus  was  not  ignorant  of  the  mutinous  dis- 
position of  his  crew,  but  he  still  maintained  a 
serene  and  steady  countenance  ;  soothing-  some 
with  gentle  words  ;  endeavoring  to  stimulate  the 
pride  or  avarice  of  others,  and  openly  menacing 
the  refractory  with  signal  punishment,  should  they 
do  anything  to  impede  the  voyage. 

On  the  25th  of  September  the  wind  again  be- 
came favorable,  and  they  were  able  to  resume 
their  course  directly  to  the  west.  The  airs  being 
light  and  the  sea  calm,  the  vessels  sailed  near  to 
each  other,  and  Columbus  had  much  conversation 
with  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon  on  the  subject  of  a 
chart  which  the  former  had  sent  three  days  before 
on  board  of  the  Pinta.  Pinzon  thought  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  indications  of  the  map,  they  ought 
to  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cipango,  and  the 
other  islands  which  the  admiral  had  therein  de- 
lineated. Columbus  partly  entertained  the  same 
idea,  but  thought  it  possible  that  the  ships  might 
have  been  borne  out  of  their  track  by  the  preva- 
lent currents,  or  that  they  had  not  come  so  far  as 
the  pilots  had  reckoned.  He  desired  that  the 
chart  might  be  returned,  and  Pinzon  tying  it  to 
the  end  of  a  cord,  flung  it  on  board  to  him.  While 
Columbus,  his  pilot,  and  several  of  his  experienced 
mariners  were  studying  the  map,  and  endeavor- 
ing to  make  out  from  it  their  actual  position,  they 
heard  a  shout  from  the  Pinta,  and  looking  up, 
beheld  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon  mounted  on  the 
stern  of  his  vessel  crying  "  Land  !  land  !  Sefior,  I 
claim  my  reward  !"  He  pointed  at  the  same  time 
to  the  south-west,  where  there  was  indeed  an  ap- 
pearance of  land  at  about  twenty-five  leagues' 
distance.  Upon  this  Columbus  threw  himself  on 
his  knees  and  returned  thanks  to  God  ;  and  Martin 
Alonzo  repeated  the  Gloria  in  excelsis,  in  which 
he  was  joined  by  his  own  crew  and  that  of  the 
admiral.* 

The  seamen  now  mounted  to  the  masthead  or 
climbed  about  the  rigging,  straining  their  eyes  in 
the  direction  pointed  out.  The  conviction  became 
so  general  of  land  in  that  quarter,  and  the  joy  of 
the  people  so  ungovernable,  that  Columbus  found 
it  necessary  to  vary  from  his  usual  course,  and 
stand  all  night  to  the  south-west.  The  morning 
light,  however,  put  an  end  to  all  their  hopes,  as 
to  a  dream.  The  fancied  land  proved  to  be  noth- 
ing but  an  evening  cloud,  and  had  vanished  in 
the  night.  With  dejected  hearts  they  once  more 
resumed  their  western  course,  from  which  Colum- 
bus would  never  have  varied,  but  in  compliance 
with  their  clamorous  wishes. 

For  several  days  they  continued  on  with  the 
same  propitious  breeze,  tranquil  sea,  and  mild, 
delightful  weather.  The  water  was  so  calm  that 
the  sailors  amused  themselves  with  swimming 
about  the  vessel.  Dolphins  began  to  abound,  and 
flying  fish,  darting  into  the  air,  fell  upon  the 
decks.  The  continued  signs  of  land  diverted  the 
attention  of  the  crews,  and  insensibly  beguiled 
them  onward. 

On  the  ist  of  October,  according  to  the  reckon- 
ing of  the  pilot  of  the  admiral's  ship,  they  had 
come  five  hundred  and  eighty  leagues  west  since 
leaving  the  Canary  Islands.  The  reckoning  which 
Columbus  showed  the  crew  was  five  hundred  and 
eighty-four,  but  the  reckoning  which  he  kept  pri- 
vately was  seven  hundred  and  seven. f  On  the 
following  day  the  weeds  floated  from  east  to  west ; 
and  on  the  third  day  no  birds  were  to  be  seen. 


*  Journal  of  Columb.,    Primer  Viage,    Navarrete, 
torn.  i. 
f  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  16. 


The  crews  now  began  to  fear  that  they  had 
passed  between  islands,  from  one  to  the  other  of 
which  the  birds  had  been  flying.  Columbus  had 
also  some  doubts  of  the  kind,  but  refused  to  alter 
his  westward  course.  The  people  again  uttered 
murmurs  and  menaces  ;  but  on  the  following  day 
they  were  visited  by  such  flights  of  birds,  and  the 
various  indications  of  land  became  so  numerous, 
that  from  a  state  of  despondency  they  passed  to 
one  of  confident  expectation. 

Eager  to  obtain  the  promised  pension,  the  sea- 
men were  continually  giving  the  cry  of  land,  on 
the  least  appearance  of  the  kind.  To  put  a  stop 
to  these  false  alarms,  which  produced  continual 
disappointments,  Columbus  declared  that  should 
any  one  give  such  notice,  and  land  not  be  dis- 
covered within  .three  days  afterward,  he  should 
thenceforth  forfeit  all  claim  to  the  reward. 

On  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  October,  Martin 
Alonzo  Pinzon  began  tc  lose  confidence  in  their 
present  course,  and  proposed  that  they  should 
stand  more  to  the  southward.  Columbus,  how- 
ever, still  persisted  in  steering  directly  west.* 

Observing  this  difference  of  opinion  in  a  person 
so  important  in  his  squadron  as  Pinzon,  and  fear- 
ing that  chance  or  design  might  scatter  the  ships, 
he  ordered  that,  should  either  of  the  caravels  be 
separated  from  him,  it  should  stand  to  the  west, 
and  endeavor  as  soon  as  possible  to  join  com- 
pany again  ;  he  directed,  also,  that  the  vessels 
should  keep  near  to  him  at  sunrise  and  sunset,  as 
at  these  times  the  state  of  the  atmosphere  is  most 
favorable  to  the  discovery  of  distant  land. 

On  the  morning  of  the  yth  of  October,  at  sun- 
rise, several  of  the  admiral's  crew  thought  they 
beheld  land  in  the  west,  but  so  indistinctly  that 
no  one  ventured  to  proclaim  it,  lest  he  should  be 
mistaken,  and  forfeit  all  chance  of  the  reward  ; 
the  Nifla,  however,  being  a  good  sailer,  pressed 
forward  to  ascertain  the  fact.  In  a  little  while  a 
flag  waS  hoisted  at  her  masthead,  and  a  gun  dis- 
charged, being  the  preconcerted  signals  for  land. 
New  joy  was  awakened  throughout  the  little 
squadron,  and  every  eye  was  turned  to  the  west. 
As  they  advanced,  however,  their  cloud-built 
hopes  faded  away,  and  before  evening  the  fancied 
land  had  again  melted  into  air.f 

The  crews  now  sank  into  a  degree  of  dejection 
proportioned  to  their  recent  excitement  ;  but  new 
circumstances  occurred  to  arouse  them.  Colum- 
bus, having  observed  great  flights  of  small  field- 
birds  going  toward  the  south-west,  concluded  they 
must  be  secure  of  some  neighboring  land,  where 
they  would  find  food  and  a  resting-place.  He 
knew  the  importance  which  the  Portuguese  voy- 
agers attached  to  the  flight  of  birds,  by  following 
which  they  had  discovered  most  of  their  islands. 
He  had  now  come  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
leagues,  the  distance  at  which  he  had  computed 
to  find  the  island  of  Cipango  ;  as  there  was  no  ap- 
pearance of  it,  he  might  have  missed  it  through 
some  mistake  in  the  latitude.  He  determined, 
therefore,  on  the  evening  of  the  7th  of  October,  to 
alter  his  course  to  the  west-south-west,  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  birds  generally  flew,  and  con- 
tinue that  direction  for  at  least  two  days.  After 
all,  it  was  no  great  deviation  from  his  main  course, 
and  would  meet  the  wishes  of  the  Pinzons,  as 
well  as  be  inspiriting  to  his  followers  generally. 

For  three  days  they  stood  in  this  direction,  and 
the  further  they  went  the  more  frequent  and  en- 


*  Journ.  of  Columbus,  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  17. 
f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  20,     Journ.  of  Colum- 
bus, Navarete,  torn.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


41 


couraging  were  the  signs  of  land.  Flights  of 
small  birds  of  various  colors,  some  of  them  such 
as  sing  in  the  fields,  came  flying  about  the  ships, 
and  then  continued  toward  the  south-west,  and 
others  were  heard  also  flying  by  in  the  night. 
Tunny  fish  played  about  the  smooth  sea,  and  a 
heron,  a  pelican,  and  a  duck  were  seen,  all 
bound  in  the  same  direction.  The  herbage  which 
floated  by  was  fresh  and  green,  as  if  recently  from 
land,  and  the  air,  Columbus  observes,  was  sweet 
and  fragrant  as  April  breezes  in  Seville. 

All  these,  however,  were  regarded  by  the  crews 
as  so  many  delusions  beguiling  them  on  to  de- 
struction ;  and  when  on  the  evening  of  the  third 
day  they  beheld  the  sun  go  down  upon  a  shoreless 
horizon,  they  broke  forth  into  turbulent  clamor. 
They  declaimed  against  this  obstinacy  in  tempting 
fate  by  continuing  on  into  a  boundless  sea.  They 
insisted  upon  turning  homeward,  and  abandoning 
the  voyage  as  hopeless.  Columbus  endeavored 
to  pacify  them  by  gentle  words  and  promises  of 
large  rewards  ;  but  finding  that  they  only  in- 
creased in  clamor,  he  assumed  a  decided  tone. 
He  told  them  it  was  useless  to  murmur,  the  ex- 
pedition had  been  sent  by  the  sovereigns  to  seek 
the  Indies,  and,  happen  what  might,  he  was  deter- 
mined to  persevere,  until,  by  the  blessing  of  God, 
he  should  accomplish  the  enterprise.* 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  20.  Las  Casas,  lib.  i. 
Journal  of  Columb.,  Navarrete,  Colec.  torn.  i.  p.  19. 

It  has  been  asserted  by  various  historians,  that 
Columbus,  a  day  or  two  previous  to  coming  in  sight 
of  the  New  World,  capitulated  with  his  mutinous 
crew,  promising,  if  he  did  not  discover  land  within 
three  days,  to  abandon  the  voyage.  There  is  no 
authority  for  such  an  assertion,  either  in  the  history  of 
his  son  Fernando  or  that  of  the  Bishop  Las  Casas, 
each  of  whom  had  the  admiral's  papers  before  him. 
There  is  no  mention  of  such  a  circumstance  in  the  ex- 
tracts made  from  the  journal  by  Las  Casas,  which 
have  recently  been  brought  to  light  ;  nor  is  it  asserted 
by  either  Peter  Martyr  or  the  Curate  of  Los  Palacios, 
both  contemporaries  and  acquaintances  of  Columbus, 
and  who  could  scarcely  have  failed  to  mention  so 
striking  a  fact,  if  true.  It  rests  merely  upon  the 
authority  of  Oviedo,  who  is  of  inferior  credit  to  either 
of  the  authors  above  cited,  and  was  grossly  misled  as 
to  many  of  the  particulars  of  this  voyage  by  a  pilot  of 
the  name  of  Hernan  Perez  Matheo,  who  was  hostile 
to  Columbus.  In  the  manuscript  process  of  the 
memorable  lawsuit  between  Don  Diego,  son  of  the  ad- 
miral, and  the  fiscal  of  the  crown,  is  the  evidence  of 
one  Pedro  de  Bilbao,  who  testifies  that  he  heard  many 
times  that  some  of  the  pilots  and  mariners  wished  to 
turn  back,  but  that  the  admiral  promised  them  pres- 
ents, and  entreated  them  to  wait  two  or  three  days, 
before  which  time  he  should  discover  land.  ("Pedro 
de  Bilbao  oyo  muchas  veces  que  algunos  pilotos  y 
marineros  querian  volverse  sino  fuera  por  el  Almi- 
rante que  les  prometio  donos,  les  rogo  esperasen  dos 
o  tres  dias  i  que  antes  del  terminodescubriera  tierra.") 
This,  if  true,  implies  no  capitulation  to  relinquish  the 
enterprise. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  was  asserted  by  some  of  the 
witnesses  in  the  above-mentioned  suit,  that  Colum- 
bus, after  having  proceeded  some  few  hundred  leagues 
without  finding  land,  lost  confidence  and  wished  to 
turn  back  ;  but  was  persuaded  and  even  piqued  to 
continue  by  the  Pinzons.  This  assertion  carries  false- 
hood on  its  very  face.  It  is  in  total  contradiction  to 
that  persevering  constancy  and  undaunted  resolution 
displayed  by  Columbus,  not  merely  in  the  present 
voyage,  but  from  first  to  last  of  his  difficult  and  dan- 
gerous career.  This  testimony  was  given  by  some  of 
the  mutinous  men,  anxious  to  exaggerate  the  merits 
of  the  Pinzons,  and  to  depreciate  that  of  Columbus. 
Fortunately,  the  extracts  from  the  journal  of  the  lat- 


Columbus  was  now  at  open  defiance  with  his 
crew,  and  his  situation  became  desperate.  For- 
tunately the  manifestations  of  the  vicinity  of  land 
were  such  on  the  following  day  as  no  longer  to 
admit  a  doubt.  Besides  a  quantity  of  fresh  weeds, 
such  as  grow  in  rivers,  they  saw  a  green  fish  of  a 
kind  which  keeps  about  rocks  ;  then  a  branch  of 
thorn  with  berries  on  it,  and  recently  separated 
from  the  tree,  floated  by  them  ;  then  they  picked 
up  a  reed,  a  small  board,  and,  above  all,  a  staff 
artificially  carved.  All  gloom  and  mutiny  now 
gave  way  to  sanguine  expectation  ;  and  through- 
out the  day  each  one  was  eagerly  on  the  watch, 
in  hopes  of  being  the  first  to  discover  the  long- 
sought-for  land. 

In  the  evening,  whep.,  according  to  invariable 
custom  on  board  of  the  admiral's  ship,  the  mar- 
iners had  sung  the  "Salve  Regina,"  or  vesper 
hymn  to  the  Virgin,  he  made  an  impressive  ad- 
dress to  his  crew.  He  pointed  out  the  goodness 
of  God  in  thus  conducting  them  by  soft  and  favor- 
ing breezes  across  a  tranquil  ocean,  cheering  their 
hopes  continually  with  fresh  signs,  increasing  as 
their  fears  augmented,  and  thus  leading  and 
guiding  them  to  a  promised  land.  He  now  re- 
minded them  of  the  orders  he  had  given  on  leav- 
ing the  Canaries,  that,  after  sailing  westward 
seven  hundred  leagues,  they  should  not  make  sail 
after  midnight.  Present  appearances  authorized 
such  a  precaution.  He  thought  it  probable  they 
would  make  land  that  very  night  ;  he  ordered, 
therefore,  a  vigilant  look-out  to  be  kept  from  the 
forecastle,  promising  to  whomsoever  should  make 
the  discovery,  a  doublet  of  velvet,  in  addition  to 
the  pension  to  be  given  by  the  sovereigns.* 

The  breeze  had  been  fresh  all  day,  with  more 
sea  than  usual,  and  they  had  made  great  progress. 
At  sunset  they  had  stood  again  to  the  west,  and 
were  ploughing  the  waves  at  a  rapid  rate,  the  Pinta 
keeping  the  lead,  from  her  superior  sailing.  The 
greatest  animation  prevailed  throughout  the 
ships  ;  not  an  eye  was  closed  that  night.  As  the 
evening  darkened,  Columbus  took  his  station  on 
the  top  of  the  castle  or  cabin  on  the  high  poop  of 
his  vessel,  ranging  his  eye  along  the  dusky  hori- 
zon, and  maintaining  an  intense  and  unremitting 
watch.  About  ten  o'clock  he  thought  he  beheld  a 
light  glimmering  at  a  great  distance.  Fearing  his 
eager  hopes  might  deceive  him,  he  called  to  Pe- 
dro Gutierrez,  gentleman  of  the  king's  bedcham- 
ber, and  inquired  whether  he  saw  such  a  light  ; 
the  latter  replied  in  the  affirmative.  Doubtful 
whether  it  might  not  yet  be  some  delusion  of  the 
fancy,  Columbus  called  Rodrigo  Sanchez  of  Se- 
govia, and  made  the  same  inquiry.  By  the  time 
the  latter  had  ascended  the  round-house  the  light 
had  disappeared.  They  saw  it  once  or  twice  after- 
ward in  sudden  and  passing  gleams  ;  as  if  it  were 
a  torch  in  the  bark  of  a  fisherman,  rising  and 
sinking  with  the  waves  ;  or  in  the  hand  of  some 
person  on  shore,  borne  up  and  down  as  he  walked 
from  house  to  house.  So  transient  and  uncertain 
were  these  gleams  that  few  attached  any  impor- 
tance to  them  ;  Columbus,  however,  considered 
them  as  certain  signs  of  land,  and,  moreover,  that 
the  land  was  inhabited. 

They  continued  their  course  until  two  in  the 
morning,  when  a  gun  from  the  Pinta  gave  the 


ter,  written  from  day  to  day,  with  guileless  simplicity, 
and  all  the  air  of  truth,  disprove  these  fables,  and 
show  that  on  the  very  day  previous  to  his  discovery, 
he  expressed  a  peremptory  determination  to  perse. 
vere,  in  defiance  of  all  dangers  and  difficulties. 
*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  21. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


joyful  signal  of  land.  It  was  first  descried  by  a 
mariner  named  Rodrigo  de  Triana  ;  but  the  re- 
ward was  afterward  adjudged  to  the  admiral,  for 
having  previously  perceived  the  light.  The  land 
was  now  clearly  seen  about  two  leagues  distant, 
whereupon  they  took  in  sail  and  laid  to,  waiting 
impatiently  for  the  dawn. 

The  thoughts  and  feelings  of  Columbus  in  this 
little  space  of  time  must  have  been  tumultuous 
and  intense.  At  length,  in  spite  of  every  diffi- 
culty and  danger,  he  had  accomplished  his  object. 
The  great  mystery  of  the  ocean  was  revealed  ;  his 
theory,  which  had  been  the  scoff  of  sages,  was  tri- 
umphantly established  ;  he  had  secured  to  himself 
a  glory  durable  as  the  world  itself. 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  the  feelings  of  such  a 
man,  at  such  a  moment ;  or  the  conjectures  which 
must  have  thronged  upon  his  mind,  as  to  the 
land  before  him,  covered  with  darkness.  That 


it  was  fruitful,  was  evident  from  the  vegetables 
which  floated  from  its  shores.  He  thought,  too, 
that  he  perceived  the  fragrance  of  aromatic 
groves.  The  moving  light  he  had  beheld  proved 
it  the  residence  of  man.  But  what  were  its  in- 
habitants ?  Were  they  like  those  of  the  other 
parts  of  the  globe  ;  or  were  they  some  strange 
and  monstrous  race,  such  as  the  imagination  was 
prone  in  those  times  to  give  to  all  remote  and  un- 
known regions  ?  Had  he  come  upon  some  wild 
island  far  in  the  Indian  sea  ;  or  was  this  the  famed 
Cipango  itself,  the  object  of  his  golden  fancies  ? 
A  thousand  speculations  of  the  kind  must  have 
swarmed  upon  him,  as,  with  his  anxious  crews, 
he  waited  for  the  night  to  pass  away,  wondering 
whether  the  morning  light  would  reveal  a  savage 
wilderness,  or  dawn  upon  spicy  groves,  and  glit- 
tering fanes,  and  gilded  cities,  and  all  the  splen- 
dor of  oriental  civilization. 


BOOK   IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

.      FIRST  LANDING  OF  COLUMBUS  IN  THE  NEW 
WORLD. 

IT  was  on  Friday  morning,  the  I2th  of  October, 
that  Columbus  first  beheld  the  New  World.  As 
the  day  dawned  he  saw  before  him  a  level  island, 
several  leagues  in  extent,  and  covered  with  trees 
like  a  continual  orchard.  Though  apparently 
uncultivated,  it  was  populous,  for  the  inhabitants 
were  seen  issuing  from  all  parts  of  the  woods 
and  running  to  the  shore.  They  were  perfectly 
naked,  and,  as  they  stood  gazing  at  the  ships, 
appeared  by  their  attitudes  and  gestures  to  be  lost 
in  astonishment.  Columbus  made  signal  for  the 
ships  to  cast  anchor,  and  the  boats  to  be  manned 
and  armed.  He  entered  his  own  boat,  richly  at- 
tired in  scarlet,  and  holding  the  royal  standard  ; 
while  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzonand  Vincent  Jafiez  his 
brother,  put  off  in  company  in  their  boats,  each 
with  a  banner  of  the  enterprise  emblazoned  with 
a  green  cross,  having  on  either  side  the  letters  F. 
and  Y.,  the  initials  of  theCastilian  monarchs  Fer- 
nando and  Ysabel,  surmounted  by  crowns. 

As  he  approached  the  shore,  Columbus,  who  was 
disposed  for  all  kinds  of  agreeable  impressions, 
was  delighted  with  the  purity  and  suavity  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  crystal  transparency  of  the  sea, 
and  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  the  vegetation. 
He  beheld,  also,  fruits  of  an  unknown  kind  upon 
the  trees  which  overhung  the  shores.  On  landing 
he  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  kissed  the  earth, 
and  returned  thanks  to  God  with  tears  of  joy.  His 
example  was  followed  by  the  rest,  whose  hearts 
indeed  overflowed  with  the  same  feelings  of  grati- 
tude. Columbus  then  rising  drew  his  sword,  dis- 
played the  royal  standard,  and  assembling  round 
him  the  two  captains,  with  Rodrigo  de  Escobedo, 
notary  of  the  armament,  Rodrigo  Sanchez,  and 
the  rest  who  had  landed,  he  took  solemn  posses- 
sion in  the  name  of  the  Castilian  sovereigns,  giv- 
ing the  island  the  name  of  San  Salvador.  Hav- 
ing complied  with  the  requisite  forms  and  cere- 
monies, he  called  upon  all  present  to  take  the 
oath  of  obedience  to  him,  as  admiral  and  viceroy, 
representing  the  persons  of  the  sovereigns.* 

*  In  the  Tablas  Chronologicas  of  Padre  Claudio 


The  feelings  of  the  crew  now  burst  forth  in  the 
most  extravagant  transports.  They  had  recently 
considered  themselves  devoted  men,  hurrying  for- 
ward to  destruction  ;  they  now  looked  upon  them- 
selves as  favorites  of  fortune,  and  gave  themselves 
up  to  the  most  unbounded  joy.  They  thronged 
around  the  admiral  with  overflowing  zeal,  some 
embracing  him,  others  kissing  his  hands.  Those 
who  had  been  most  mutinous  and  turbulent  dur- 
ing the  voyage,  were  now  most  devoted  and  en- 
thusiastic. Some  begged  favors  of  him,  as  if  he 
had  already  wealth  and  honors  in  his  gift.  Many 
abject  spirits,  who  had  outraged  him  by  their  inso- 
lence, now  crouched  at  his  feet,  begging  pardon 
for  all  the  trouble  they  had  caused  him,  and  prom- 
ising the  blindest  obedience  for  the  future.* 

The  natives  of  the  island,  when,  at  the  dawn  of 
day,  they  had  beheld  the  ships  hovering  on  their 
coast,  had  supposed  them  monsters  which  had  is- 
sued from  the  deep  during  the  night.  They  had 
crowded  to  the  beach  and  watched  their  move- 
ments with  awful  anxiety.  Their  veering  about, 
apparently  without  effort,  and  the  shifting  and 
furling  of  their  sails,  resembling  huge  wings,  filled 
them  with  astonishment.  When  they  beheld  their 
boats  approach  the  shore,  and  a  number  of  strange 
beings  clad  in  glittering  steel,  or  raiment  of  va- 
rious colors,  landing  upon  the  beach,  they  fled  in 
affright  to  the  woods.  Finding,  however,  that 
there  was  no  attempt  to  pursue  nor  molest  them, 
they  gradually  recovered  from  their  terror,  and 
approached  the  Spaniards  with  great  awe  ;  fre- 
quently prostrating  themselves  on  the  earth,  and 
making  signs  of  adoration.  During  the  cere- 


Clemente,  is  conserved  a  form  of  prayer,  said  to  have 
been  used  by  Columbus  on  this  occasion,  and  which, 
by  order  of  the  Castilian  sovereigns,  was  afterward 
used  by  Balboa,  Cortez,  and  Pizarro  in  their  discov- 
eries. "  Domine  Deus  seterne  et  omnipotens,  sacro 
tuo  verbo  coelum,  et  terram,  et  mare  creasti  ;  benedi- 
catur  el  glorificetur  nomen  tuum,  laudetur  tua  majes- 
tas,  quae  dignita  est  per  humilem  servum  tuum,  ut 
ejus  sacrum  nomen  agnoscatur,  et  prsedicetur  in  hac 
altera  mundi  parte."  Tab.  Chron.  de  los  Descub. , 
decad.  i.  Valencia,  1689. 

*  Oviedo.  lib.  i.   cap.   6.      Las  Casas,    Hist.  Ind., 
lib.  i.  cap.  40. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


43 


monies  of  taking  possession,  they  remained  gaz- 
ing in  timid  admiration  at  the  complexion,  the 
beards,  the  shining  armor,  and  splendid  dress  of 
the  Spaniards.  The  admiral  particularly  attract- 
ed their  attention,  from  his  commanding  height, 
his  air  of  authority,  his  dress  of  scarlet,  and  the 
deference  which  was  paid  him  by  his  compan- 
ions ;  all  which  pointed  him  out  to  be  the  com- 
mander.* When  they  had  still  further  recovered 
from  their  fears,  they  approached  the  Spaniards, 
touched  their  beards,  and  examined  their  hands 
and  faces,  admiring  their  whiteness.  Columbus 
was  pleased  with  their  gentleness  and  confiding 
simplicity,  and  suffered  their  scrutiny  with  per- 
fect acquiescence,  winning  them  by  his  benignity. 
They  now  supposed  that  the  ships  had  sailed  out 
of  the  crystal  firmament  which  bounded  their  hori- 
zon, or  had  descended  from  above  on  their  ample 
wings,  and  that  these  marvellous  beings  were  in- 
habitants of  the  skies. f 

The  natives  of  the  island  were  no  less  objects  of 
curiosity  to  the  Spaniards,  differing,  as  they  did, 
from  any  race  of  men  they  had  ever  seen.  Their 
appearance  gave  no  promise  of  either  wealth  or 
civilization,  for  they  were  entirely  naked,  and 
painted  with  a  variety  of  colors.  With  some  it 
was  confined  merely  to  a  part  of  the  face,  the  nose, 
or  around  the  eyes  ;  with  others  it  extended  to  the 
whole  body,  and  gave  them  a  wild  and  fantastic 
appearance.  Their  complexion  was  of  a  tawny 
or  copper  hue,  and  they  were  entirely  destitute  of 
beards.  Their  hair  was  not  crisped,  like  the  re- 
cently-discovered tribes  of  the  African  coast,,  un- 
der the  same  latitude,  but  straight  and  coarse, 
partly  cut  short  above  the  ears,  but  some  locks 
were  left  long  behind  and  falling  upon  their 
shoulders.  Their  features,  though  obscured  and 
disfigured  by  paint,  were  agreeable  ;  they  had 
lofty  foreheads  and  remarkably  fine  eyes.-  They 
were  of  moderate  stature  and  well-shaped  ;  most 
of  them  appeared  to  be  under  thirty  years  of 
age  ;  there  was  but  one  female  with  them,  quite 
young,  naked  like  her  companions,  and  beautifully 
formed. 

As  Columbus  supposed  himself  to  have  landed 
on  an  island  at  the  extremity  of  India,  he  called 
the  natives  by  the  general  appellation  of  Indians, 
which  was  universally  adopted  before  the  true 
nature  of  his  discovery  was  known,  and  has  since 
been  extended  to  all  the  aboriginals  of  the  New 
World. 

The  islanders  were  friendly  and  gentle.  Their 
only  arms  were  lances,  hardened  at  the  end  by 
fire,  or  pointed  with  a  flint,  or  the  teeth  or  bone 
of  a  fish.  There  was  no  iron  to  be  seen,  nor  did 
they  appear  acquainted  with  its  properties  ;  for, 
when  a  drawn  sword  was  presented  to  them,  they 
unguardedly  took  it  by  the  edge. 

Columbus  distributed  among  them  colored  caps, 
glass  beads,  hawks'  bells,  and  other  trifles,  such 
as  the  Portuguese  were  accustomed  to  trade  with 
among  the  nations  of  the  gold  coast  of  Africa. 
They  received  them  eagerly,  hung  the  beads 
round  their  necks,  and  were  wonderfully  pleased 
with  their  finery,  and  with  the  sound  of  the  bells. 
The  Spaniards  remained  all  day  on  shore  refresh- 


*  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup. 

f  The  idea  that  the  white  men  came  from  heaven 
was  universally  entertained  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
New  World.  When  in  the  course  of  subsequent  voy- 
ages the  Spaniards  conversed  with  the  cacique  Nica- 
ragua, he  inquired  how  they  came  down  from  the 
skies,  whether  flying  or  whether  they  descended  on 
clouds.  Herrera,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  5. 


ing  themselves  after  their  anxious  voyage  amid 
the  beautiful  groves  of  the  island,  and  returned 
on  board  late  in  the  evening,  delighted  with  all 
they  had  seen. 

On  the  following  morning  at  break  of  day,  the 
shore  was  thronged  with  the  natives  ;  some  swam 
off  to  the  ships,  others  came  in  light  barks  which 
they  called  canoes,  formed  of  a  single  tree,  hol- 
lowed, and  capable  of  holding  from  one  man  to 
the  number  of  forty  or  fifty.  These  they  managed 
dexterously  with  paddles,  and,  if  overturned, 
swam  about  in  the  water  with  perfect  unconcern, 
as  if  in  their  natural  element,  righting  their  canoes 
with  great  facility,  and  baling  them  with  cala- 
bashes.* 

They  were  eager  to  procure  more  toys  and 
trinkets,  not,  apparently,  from  any  idea  of  their 
intrinsic  value,  but  because  everything  from  the 
hands  of  the  strangers  possessed  a  supernatural 
virtue  in  their  eyes,  as  having  been  brought  from 
heaven  ;  they  even  picked  up  fragments  of  glass 
and  earthenware  as  valuable  prizes.  They  had 
but  few  objects  to  offer  in  return,  except  parrots, 
of  which  great  numbers  were  domesticated  among 
them,  and  cotton  yarn,  of  which  they  had  abun- 
dance, and  would  exchange  large  balls  of  five  and 
twenty  pounds'  weight  for  the  merest  trifle.  They 
brought  also  cakes  of  a  kind  of  bread  called  cas- 
sava, which  constituted  a  principal  part  of  their 
food,  and  was  afterward  an  important  article  of 
provisions  with  the  Spaniards.  It  was  formed 
from  a  great  root  called  yuca,  which  they  culti- 
vated in  fields.  This  they  cut  into  small  morsels, 
which  they  grated  or  scraped,  and  strained  in  a 
press,  making  a  broad  thin  cake,  which  was  after- 
ward dried  hard,  and  would  keep  for  a  long  time, 
being  steeped  in  water  when  eaten.  It  was  in- 
sipid, but  nourishing,  though  the  water  strained 
from  it  in  the  preparation  was  a  deadly  poison. 
There  was  another  kind  of  yuca  destitute  of  this 
poisonous  quality,  which  was  eaten  in  the  root, 
either  boiled  or  roasted. f 

The  avarice  of  the  discoverers  was  quickly  ex- 
cited by  the  sight  of  small  ornaments  of  gold, 
worn  by  some  of  the  natives  in  their  noses.  These 
the  latter  gladly  exchanged  for  glass  beads  and 
hawks'  bells  ;  and  both  parties  exulted  in  the 
bargain,  no  doubt  admiring  each  other's  sim- 
plicity. As  gold,  however,  was  an  object  of  royal 
monopoly  in  all  enterprises  of  discovery,  Colum- 
bus forbade  any  traffic  in  it  without  his  express 
sanction  ;  and  he  put  the  same  prohibition  on  the 
traffic  for  cotton,  reserving  to  the  crown  all  trade 
for  it,  wherever  it  should  be  found  in  any  quan- 
tity. 

He  inquired  of  the  natives  where  this  gold  was 
procured.  They  answered  him  by  signs,  pointing 
to  the  south,  where,  he  understood  them,  dwelt  a 
king  of  such  wealth  that  he  was  served  in  vessels 
of  wrought  gold.  He  understood,  also,  that  there 
was  land  to  the  south,  the  south-west,  and  the 
north-west,  and  that  the  people  from  the  last  men- 
tioned quarter  frequently  proceeded  to  the  south- 
west in  quest  of  gold  and  precious  stones,  making 
in  their  way  descents  upon  the  islands,  and  carry- 
ing off  the  inhabitants.  Several  of  the  natives 
showed  him  scars  of  wounds  received  in  battles 
with  these  invaders.  It  is  evident  that  a  great 
part  of  this  fancied  intelligence  was  self-delusion 


*  The  calabashes  of  the  Indians,  which  served  the 
purposes  of  glass  and  earthenware,  supplying  them 
with  all  sorts  of  domestic  utensils,  were  produced  on 
stately  trees  of  the  size  of  elms. 

f  Acosta,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  iv.  cap.  17. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


on  the  part  of  Columbus  ;  for  he  was  under  a  spell 
of  the  imagination,  which  gave  its  own  shapes 
and  colors  to  every  object.  He  was  persuaded 
that  he  had  arrived  among  the  islands  described 
by  Marco  Polo  as  lying  opposite  Cathay,  in  the 
Chinese  sea,  and  he  construed  everything  to  ac- 
cord with  the  account  given  of  those  opulent  re- 
gions. Thus  the  enemies  which  the  natives  spoke 
of  as  coming  from  the  north-west,  he  concluded  to 
be  the  people  of  the  main-land  of  Asia,  the  sub- 
jects of  the  great  Khan  of  Tartary,  who  were  rep- 
resented by  the  Venetian  traveller  as  accustomed 
to  make  war  upon  the  islands,  and  to  enslave 
their  inhabitants.  The  country  to  the  south, 
abounding  in  gold,  could  be  no  other  than  the 
famous  island  of  Cipango  ;  and  the  king  who  was 
served  out  of  vessels  of  gold  must  be  the  monarch 
whose  magnificent  city  and  gorgeous  palace,  cov- 
ered with  plates  of  gold,  had  been  extolled  in  such 
splendid  terms  by  Marco  Polo. 

The  island  where  Columbus  had  thus,  for  the 
first  time,  set  his  foot  upon  the  New  World,  was 
called  by  the  natives  Guanahane.  It  still  retains 
the  name  of  San  Salvador,  which  he  gave  to  it, 
though  called  by  the  English  Cat  Island.*  The 
light  which  he  had  seen  the  evening  previous  to 
his  making  land,  may  have  been  on  Watling's 
Island,  which  lies  a  few  leagues  to  the  east.  San 
Salvador  is  one  of  the  great  cluster  of  the  Lucayos, 
or  Bahama  Islands,  which  stretch  south-east  and 
north-west,  from  the  coast  of  Florida  to  His- 
paniola,  covering  the  northern  coast  of  Cuba. 

On  the  morning  of  the  I4th  of  October  the  ad- 
miral set  off  at  daybreak  with  the  boats  of  the 
ships  to  reconnoitre  the  island,  directing  his  course 
to  the  north-east.  The  coast  was  surrounded  by  a 
reef  of  rocks,  within  which  there  was  depth  of 
water  and  sufficient  harbor  to  receive  all  the  ships 
in  Christendom.  The  entrance  was  very  narrow  ; 
within  there  were  several  sand-banks,  but  the 
water  was  as  still  as  in  a  pool.f 

The  island  appeared  throughout  to  be  well 
wooded,  with  streams  of  water,  and  a  large  lake 
in  the  centre.  As  the  boats  proceeded,  they 
passed  two  or  three  villages,  the  inhabitants  of 
which,  men  as  well  as  women,  ran  to  the  shores, 
throwing  themselves  on  the  ground,  lifting  up 
their  hands  and  eyes,  either  giving  thanks  to 
heaven,  or  worshipping  the  Spaniards  as  super- 
natural beings.  They  ran  along  parallel  to  the 
boats,  calling  after  the  Spaniards,  and  inviting 
them  by  signs  to  land,  offering  them  various  fruits 
and  vessels  of  water.  Finding,  however,  that  the 
boats  continued  on  their  course,  many  threw 
themselves  into  the  sea  and  swam  after  them,  and 
others  followed  in  canoes.  The  admiral  received 
them  all  with  kindness,  giving  them  glass  beads 
and  other  trifles,  which  were  received  with  trans- 
port as  celestial  presents,  for  the  invariable  idea 
of  the  savages  was,  that  the  white  men  had  come 
from  the  skies. 

In  this  way  they  pursued  their  course,  until  they 
came  to  a  small  peninsula,  which  with  two  or 
three  days'  labor  might  be  separated  from  the 
main-land  and  surrounded  with  water,  and  was 
therefore  specified  by  Columbus  as  an  excellent 
situation  for  a  fortress.  On  this  were  six  Indian 
cabins,  surrounded  by  groves  and  gardens  as 


*  Some  dispute  having  recently  arisen  as  to  the 
island  on  which  Columbus  first  landed,  the  reader  is 
referred  for  a  discussion  of  this  question  to  the  illus- 
trations of  the  work,  article  "First  Landing  of  Co- 
lumbus." 

f  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  torn.  i. 


beautiful  as  those  of  Castile.  The  sailors  being 
wearied  with  rowing,  and  the  island  not  appear- 
ing to  the  admiral  of  sufficient  importance  to  in- 
duce colonization,  he  returned  to  the  ships,  taking 
seven  ol  the  natives  with  him,  that  they  might  ac- 
quire the  Spanish  language  and  serve  as  inter- 
preters. 

Having  taken  in  a  supply  of  wood  and  water, 
they  left  the  island  of  San  Salvador  the  same  even- 
ing, the  admiral  being  impatient  to  arrive  at  the 
wealthy  country  to  the  south,  which  he  flattered 
himself  would  prove  the  famous  island  of  Cipango. 


CHAPTER   II. 

CRUISE  AMONG  THE  BAHAMA  ISLANDS. 
[I492-] 

ON  leaving  San  Salvador  Columbus  was  at  a 
loss  which  way  to  direct  his  course.  A  great 
number  of  islands,  green  and  level  and  fertile, 
invited  him  in  different  directions.  The  Indians 
on  board  of  his  vessel  intimated  by  signs  that 
they  were  innumerable,  well  peopled,  and  at  war 
with  one  another.  They  mentioned  the  names  of 
above  a  hundred.  Columbus  now  had  no  longer 
a  doubt  that  he  was  among  the  islands  described 
by  Marco  Polo  as  studding  the  vast  sea  of  Chin, 
or  China,  and  lying  at  a  great  distance  from  the 
main-land.  These,  according  to  the  Venetian, 
amounted  to  between  seven  and  eight  thousand, 
and  abounded  with  drugs  and  spices  and  odorifer- 
ous trees,  together  with  gold  and  silver  and  many 
other  precious  objects  of  commerce.* 

Animated  by  the  idea  of  exploring  this  opulent 
archipelago,  he  selected  the  largest  island  in  sight 
for  his  next  visit  ;  it  appeared  to  be  about  hve 
leagues'  distance,  and  he  understood  from  his 
Indians  that  the  natives  were  richer  than  those 
of  San  Salvador,  wearing  bracelets  and  anklets 
and  other  ornaments  of  massive  gold. 

The  night  coming  on,  Columbus  ordered  that 
the  ships  should  lie  to,  as  the  navigation  was  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous  among  these  unknown  islands, 
and  he  feared  to  venture  upon  a  strange  coast  in 
the  dark.  In  the  morning  they  again  made  sail, 
but  meeting  with  counter-currents  it  was  not  until 
sunset  that  they  anchored  at  the  island.  The 
next  morning  (i6th)  they  went  on  shore,  and  Co- 
lumbus took  solemn  possession,  giving  the  island 
the  name  of  Santa  Maria  de  la  Concepcion.  The 
same  scene  occurred  with  the  inhabitants  as  with 
those  of  San  Salvador.  They  manifested  the  same 
astonishment  and  awe,  the  same  gentleness  and 
simplicity,  and  the  same  nakedness  and  absence 
of  all  wealth.  Columbus  looked  in  vain  for  brace- 
lets and  anklets  of  gold,  or  for  any  other  precious 
articles  :  they  had  been  either  fictions  of  his  In- 
dian guides,  or  his  own  misinterpretations. 

Returning  on  board,  he  prepared  to  make  sail, 
when  one  of  the  Indians  of  San  Salvador,  who  was 
on  board  of  the  Nifla,  plunged  into  the  sea,  and 
swam  to  a  large  canoe  filled  with  natives.  The 
boat  of  the  caravel  put  off  in  pursuit,  but  the  In- 
dians managed  in  their  light  bark  with  too  much 
velocity  to  be  overtaken,  and,  reaching  the  land, 
fled  to  the  woods.  The  sailors  took  the  canoe  as 
a  prize,  and  returned  on  board  the  caravel. 
Shortly  afterward  a  small  canoe  approached  one 
of  the  ships  from  a  different  part  of  the  island, 


*  Marco  Polo,  book  Hi.  chap.  4  ;  Eng.  translation 
by  W.  Marsden. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


45 


with  a  single  Indian  on  board,  who  came  to  offer 
a  ball  of  cotton  in  exchange  for  hawks'  bells.  As 
he  paused  when  close  to  the  vessel,  and  feared  to 
enter,  several  sailors  threw  themselves  into  the 
sea  and  took  him  prisoner. 

Columbus  having  seen  all  that  passed  from  his 
station  on  the  high  poop  of  the  vessel,  ordered  the 
captive  to  be  brought  to  him  ;  he  came  trembling 
with  fear,  and  humbly  offered  his  ball  of  cotton  as 
a  gift.  The  admiral  received  him  with  the  utmost 
benignity,  and  declining  his  offering,  put  a  colored 
cap  upon  his  head,  strings  of  green  beads  around 
his  arms,  and  hawks'  bells  in  his  ears,  then  or- 
dering him  and  his  ball  of  cotton  to  be  replaced  in 
the  canoe,  dismissed  him,  astonished  and  over- 
joyed. He  ordered  that  the  canoe,  also,  which 
had  been  seized  and  was  fastened  to  the  Nifta, 
should  be  cast  loose,  to  be  regained  by  its  pro- 
prietors. When  the  Indian  reached  the  shore, 
his  countrymen  thronged  round  him,  examining 
and  admiring  his  finery,  and  listening  to  his  ac- 
count of  the  kind  treatment  he  experienced. 

Such  were  the  gentle  and  sage  precautions  con- 
tinually taken  by  Columbus  to  impress  the  natives 
favorably.  Another  instance  of  the  kind  occurred 
after  leaving  the  island  of  Concepcion,  when  the 
caravels  stood  for  the  larger  island,  several 
leagues  to  the  west.  Midway  between  the  two 
islands  they  overtook  a  single  Indian  in  a  canoe. 
He  had  a  mere  morsel  of  cassava  bread  and  a 
calabash  of  water  for  sea-stores,  and  a  little  red 
paint,  like  dragons'  blood,  for  personal  decoration 
when  he  should  land.  A  string  of  glass  beads, 
such  as  had  been  given  to  the  natives  of  San  Sal- 
vador, showed  that  he  had  come  thence,  and  was 
probably  passing  from  island  to  island,  to  give 
notice  of  the  ships.  Columbus  admired  the  hardi- 
hood of  this  simple  navigator,  making  such  an  ex- 
tensive voyage  in  so  frail  a  bark.  As  the  island 
was  still  distant,  he  ordered  that  both  the  Indian 
and  his  canoe  should  be  taken  on  board,  where 
he  treated  him  with  the  greatest  kindness,  giving 
him  bread  and  honey  to  eat,  and  wine  to  drink. 
The  weather  being  very  calm,  they  did  not  reach 
the  island  until  too  dark  to  anchor,  through  fear 
of  cutting  their  cables  with  rocks.  The  sea  about 
these  islands  was  so  transparent  that  in  the  day- 
time they  could  see  the  bottom  and  choose  their 
ground  ;  and  so  deep,  that  at  two  gun-shot  dis- 
tance there  was  no  anchorage.  Hoisting  out  the 
canoe  of  their  Indian  voyager,  therefore,  and  re- 
storing to  him  all  his  effects,  they  sent  him  joy- 
fully ashore,  to  prepare  the  natives  for  their  ar- 
rival, while  the  ships  lay  to  until  morning. 

This  kindness  had  the  desired  effect.  The  na- 
tives surrounded  the  ships  in  their  canoes  during 
the  night,  bringing  fruits  and  roots,  and  the  pure 
water  of  their  springs.  Columbus  distributed 
trifling  presents  among  them,  and  to  those  who 
came  on  board  he  gave  sugar  and  honey. 

Landing  the  next  morning,  he  gave  to  this 
island  the  name  of  Fernandina,  in  honor  of  the 
king  ;  it  is  the  same  at  present  called  Exuma. 
The  inhabitants  were  similar  in  every  respect  to 
those  of  the  preceding  islands,  excepting  that  they 
appeared  more  ingenious  and  intelligent.  Some  of 
the  women  wore  mantles  and  aprons  of  cotton, 
but  for  the  most  part  they  were  entirely  naked. 
Their  habitations  were  constructed  in  the  form  of 
a  pavilion  or  high  circular  tent,  of  branches  of 
trees,  of  reeds,  and  palm  leaves.  They  were  kept 
very  clean  and  neat,  and  sheltered  under  spread- 
ing trees.  For  beds  they  had  nets  of  cotton  ex- 
tended from  two  posts,  which  they  called  hamacs, 
a  name  since  in  universal  use  among  seamen. 


In  endeavoring  to  circumnavigate  the  island, 
Columbus  found,  within  two  leagues  of  the  north- 
west cape,  a  noble  harbor,  sufficient  to  hold  a 
hundred  ships,  with  two  entrances  formed  by  an 
island  which  lay  in  the  mouth  of  it.  Here,  while 
the  men  landed  with  the  casks  in  search  of  water, 
he  reposed  under  the  shade  of  the  groves,  which 
he  says  were  more  beautiful  than  any  he  had  ever 
beheld  ;  "  the  country  was  as  fresh  and  green  as 
in  the  month  of  May  in  Andalusia  ;  the  trees,  the 
fruits,  the  herbs,  the  flowers,  the  very  stones  for 
the  most  part,  as  different  from  those  of  Spain  as 
night  from  day."*  The  inhabitants  gave  the 
same  proofs  as  the  other  islanders,  of  being  totally 
unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  civilized  man.  They 
regarded  the  Spaniards  with  awe  and  admiration, 
approached  them  with  propitiatory  offerings  of 
whatever  their  poverty,  or  rather  their  simple  and 
natural  mode  of  life,  afforded  ;  the  fruits  of  their 
fields  and  groves,  the  cotton,  which  was  their  arti- 
cle of  greatest  value,  and  their  domesticated  par- 
rots. They  took  those  who  were  in  search  of 
water  to  the  coolest  springs,  the  sweetest  and 
freshest  runs,  filling  their  casks,  and  rolling  them 
to  the  boats  ;  thus  seeking  in  every  way  to  gratify 
their  celestial  visitors. 

However  pleasing  this  state  of  primeval  poverty 
might  be  to  the  imagination  of  a  poet,  it  was  a 
source  of  continual  disappointment  to  the  Span- 
iards, whose  avarice  had  been  whetted  to  the 
quick  by  scanty  specimens  of  gold,  and  by  the  in- 
formation of  golden  islands  continually  given  by 
the  Indians. 

Leaving  Fernandina,  on  the  i9th  of  October, 
they  steered  to  the  south-east  in  quest  of  an  island 
called  Saometo,  where  Columbus  understood, 
from  the  signs  of  the  guides,  there  was  a  mine  of 
gold,  and  a  king,  the  sovereign  of  all  the  surround- 
ing islands,  who  dwelt  in  a  large  city  and  pos- 
sessed great  treasures,  wearing  rich  clothing  and 
jewels  of  gold.  They  found  the  island,  but 
neither  the  monarch  nor  the  mine  ;  either  Colum- 
bus had  misunderstood  the  natives,  or  they, 
measuring  things  by  their  own  poverty,  had  ex- 
aggerated the  paltry  state  and  trivial  ornaments 
of  some  savage  chieftain.  Delightful  as  the  other 
islands  had  appeared,  Columbus  declared  that 
this  surpassed  them  all.  Like  those  it  was  covered 
with  trees  and  shrubs  and  herbs  of  unknown  kind. 
The  climate  had  the  same  soft  temperature  ;  the 
air  was  delicate  and  balmy  ;  the  land  was  higher, 
with  a  fine  verdant  hill  ;  the  coast  of  a  fine  sand, 
gently  laved  by  transparent  billows. 

At  the  south-west  end  of  the  island  he  found  fine 
lakes  of  fresh  water,  overhung  with  groves,  and 
surrounded  by  banks  covered  with  herbage. 
Here  he  ordered  all  the  casks  of  the  ships  to  be 
filled.  "  Here  are  large  lakes,"  says  he,  in  his 
journal,  "  and  the  groves  about  them  are  marvel- 
lous, and  here  and  in  all  the  island  everything  is 
green,  as  in  April  in  Andalusia.  The  singing  of 
the  birds  is  such,  that  it  seems  as  if  one  would 
never  desire  to  depart  hence.  There  are  flocks  of 
parrots  which  obscure  the  sun,  and  other  birds, 
large  and  small,  of  so  many  kinds  all  different 
from  ours,  that  it  is  wonderful  ;  and  besides  there 
are  trees  of  a  thousand  species,  each  having  its 
particular  fruit  and  all  of  marvellous  flavor,  so 
that  I  am  in  the  greatest  trouble  in  the  world  not 
to  know  them,  for  I  am  very  certain  that  they  are 
each  of  great  value.  I  shall  bring  home  some  of 
them  as  specimens,  and  also  some  of  the  herbs." 
To  this  beautiful  island  he  gave  the  name  of  his 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  lib.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


royal  patroness,  Isabella  ;  it  is  the  same  at  present 
called  Isla  Larga  and  Exumeta.  Columbus  was 
intent  on  discovering-  the  drugs  and  spices  of  the 
East,  and  on  approaching  this  island,  had  fancied 
he  perceived  in  the  air  the  spicy  odors  said  to  be 
watted  from  the  islands  of  the  Indian  seas.  "  As 
I  arrived  at  this  cape,"  says  he,  "there  came 
thence  a  fragrance  so  good  and  soft  of  the  flowers 
or  trees  of  the  land,  that  it  was  the  sweetest  thing 
in  the  world.  I  believe  there  are  here  many  herbs 
and  trees  which  would  be  of  great  price  in  Spain 
for  tinctures,  medicines,  and  spices,  but  I  know 
nothing  of  them,  which  gives  me  great  concern."* 

The  fish,  which  abounded  in  these  seas,  partook 
of  the  novelty  which  characterized  most  of  the  ob- 
jects in  this  new  world.  They  rivalled  the  birds 
in  tropical  brilliancy  of  color,  the  scales  of  some 
of  them  glancing  back  the  rays  of  light  like  pre- 
cious stones  ;  as  they  sported  about  the  ships, 
they  flashed  gleams  of  gold  and  silver  through 
the  clear  waves  ;  and  the  dolphins,  taken  out  of 
their  element,  delighted  the  eye  with  the  changes 
of  colors  ascribed  in  fable  to  the  chameleon. 

No  animals  were  seen  in  these  islands,  except- 
ing a  species. of  clog  which  never  barked,  a  kind 
of  coney  or  rabbit  called  "  utia"  by  the  natives, 
together  with  numerous  lizards  and  guanas.  The 
last  were  regarded  with  disgust  and  horror  by 
the  Spaniards,  supposing  them  to  be  fierce  and 
noxious  serpents  ;  but  they  were  found  afterward 
to  be  perfectly  harmless,  and  their  flesh  to  be  es- 
teemed a  great  delicacy  by  the  Indians. 

For  several  days  Columbus  hovered  about  this 
island,  seeking  in  vain  to  find  its  imaginary  mon- 
arch, or  to  establish  a  communication  with  him, 
until,  at  length,  he  reluctantly  became  convinced 
of  his  error.  No  sooner,  however,  did  one  delu- 
sion fade  away,  than  another  succeeded.  In  reply 
to  the  continual  inquiries  made  by  the  Spaniards, 
after  the  source  whence  they  procured  their  gold, 
the  natives  uniformly  pointed  to  the  south.  Co- 
lumbus now  began  to  hear  of  an  island  in  that 
direction,  called  Cuba,  but  all  that  he  could  col- 
lect concerning  it  from  the  signs  of  the  natives 
was  colored  by  his  imagination.  He  understood 
it  to  be  of  great  extent,  abounding  in  gold,  and 
pearls,  and  spices,  and  carrying  on  an  extensive 
commerce  in  those  precious  articles  ;  and  that 
large  merchant  ships  came  to  trade  with  its  in- 
habitants. 

Comparing  these  misinterpreted  accounts  with 
the  coast  of  Asia,  as  laid  down  on  his  map,  after 
the  descriptions  of  Marco  Polo,  he  concluded  that 
this  island  must  be  Cipango,  and  the  merchant 
ships  mentioned  must  be  those  of  the  Grand  Khan, 
who  maintained  an  extensive  commerce  in  these 
seas.  He  formed  his  plan  accordingly,  determin- 
ing to  sail  immediately  for  this  island,  and  make 
himself  acquainted  with  its  ports,  cities,  and  pro- 
ductions, for  the  purpose  of  establishing  relations 
of  traffic.  He  would  then  seek  another  great 
island  called  Bohio,  of  which  the  natives  gave 
likewise  marvellous  accounts.  His  sojourn  in 
those  islands  would  depend  upon  the  quantities  of 
gold,  spices,  precious  stones,  and  other  objects  of 
Oriental  trade  which  he  should  find  there.  After 
this  he  would  proceed  to  the  main-land  of  India, 
which  must  be  within  ten  days'  sail,  seek  the  city 
Quinsai,  which,  according  to  Marco  Polo,  was  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  capitals  in  the  world  ;  he 
would  there  deliver  in  person  the  letters  of  the 
Castilian  sovereigns  to  the  Grand  Khan,  and, 
when  he  received  his  reply,  return  triumphantly 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  cap.  i. 


to  Spain  with  this  document,  to  prove  that  he 
had  accomplished  the  great  object  of  his  voyage.* 
Such  was  the  splendid  scheme  with  which  Colum- 
bus fed  his  imagination,  when  about  to  leave  the 
Bahamas  in  quest  of  the  island  of  Cuba. 


CHAPTER  III. 

DISCOVERY   AND   COASTING   OF   CUBA. 
[1492.] 

FOR  several  days  the  departure  of  Columbus 
was  delayed  by  contrary  winds  and  calms,  attend- 
ed by  heavy  showers,  which  last  had  prevailed, 
more  or  less,  since  his  arrival  among  the  islands. 
It  was  the  season  of  the  autumnal  rains,  which  in 
those  torrid  climates  succeed  the  parching  heats 
ol  summer,  commencing  about  the  decrease  of 
the  August  moon,  and  lasting  until  the  month  of 
November. 

At  length,  at  midnight,  October  24th,  he  set 
sail  from  the  island  of  Isabella,  but  was  nearly 
becalmed  until  midday  ;  a  gentle  wind  then 
sprang  up,  and,  as  he  observes,  began  to  blow 
most  amorously.  Every  sail  was  spread,  and  he 
stood  toward  the  west-south-west,  the  direction  in 
which  he  was  told  the  land  of  Cuba  lay  from  Isa- 
bella. After  three  days'  navigation,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  touched  at  a  group  of  seven  or  eight 
small  islands,  which  he  called  Islas  de  Arena, 
supposed  to  be  the  present  Mucaras  islands,  and 
having  crossed  the  Bahama  bank  and  channel,  he 
arrived,  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  of  October,  in 
sight  of  Cuba.  The  part  which  he  first  discov- 
ered is  supposed  to  be  the  coast  to  the  west  of 
Nuevitas  del  Principe. 

As  he  approached  this  noble  island,  he  was 
struck  with  its  magnitude,  and  the  grandeur  of  its 
features  ;  its  high  and  airy  mountains,  which  re- 
minded him  of  those  of  Sicily  ;  its  fertile  valleys, 
and  long  sweeping  plains  watered  by  noble  riv- 
ers ;  its  stately  forests  ;  its  bold  promontories 
and  stretching  headlands,  which  melted  away  in- 
to the  remotest  distance.  He  anchored  in  a  beau- 
tiful river,  of  transparent  clearness,  free  from 
rocks  and  shoals,  its  banks  overhung  with  trees. 
Here,  landing,  and  taking  possession  of  the  island, 
he  gave  it  the  name  of  Juana,  in  honor  of  Prince 
Juan,  and  to  the  river  the  name  of  San  Salvador. 
.  On  the  arrival  of  the  ships,  two  canoes  put  off 
from  the  shore,  but  fled  on  seeing  the  boat  ap- 
proach to  sound  the  river  for  anchorage.  The 
admiral  visited  two  cabins  abandoned  by  their  in- 
habitants. They  contained  but  a  few  nets  made 
of  the  fibres  of  the  palm-tree,  hooks  and  harpoons 
of  bone,  and  some  other  fishing  implements,  and 
one  of  the  kind  of  dogs  he  had  met  with  on  the 
smaller  islands,  which  never  bark.  He  ordered 
that  nothing  should  be  taken  away  or  deranged. 

Returning  to  his  boat,  he  proceeded  for  some 
distance  up  the  river,  more  and  more  enchanted 
with  the  beauty  of  the  country.  The  banks  were 
covered  with  high  and  wide-spreading  trees  ; 
some  bearing  fruits,  others  flowers,  while  in  some 
both  fruit  and  flower  were  mingled,  bespeaking  a 
perpetual  round  of  fertility  ;  among  them  were 
many  palms,  but  different  from  those  of  Spain  and 
Africa  ;  with  the  great  leaves  of  these  the  natives 
thatched  their  cabins. 

The  continual  eulogies  made  by  Columbus  on 
the  beauty  of  the  country  were  warranted  by  the 


*  Journal  of  Columbus.     Navarrete,  torn.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


47 


kind  of  scenery  he  was  beholding.  There  is  a 
wonderful  splendor,  variety,  and  luxuriance  in  the 
vegetation  of  those  quick  and  ardent  climates. 
The  verdure  of  the  groves  and  the  colors  of  the 
flowers  and  blossoms  derive  a  vividness  from  the 
transparent  purity  of  the  air  and  the  deep  serenity 
of  the  azure  heavens.  The  forests,  too,  are  full  of 
life,  swarming  with  birds  of  brilliant  plumage. 
Painted  varieties  of  parrots  and  woodpeckers  cre- 
ate a  glitter  amid  the  verdure  of  the  grove,  and 
humming-birds  rove  from  flower  to  flower,  re- 
sembling, as  has  well  been  said,  animated  parti- 
cles of  a  rainbow.  The  scarlet  flamingoes,  too, 
seen  sometimes  through  an  opening  of  a  forest  in 
a  distant  savanna,  have  the  appearance  of  sol- 
diers drawn  up  in  battalion,  with  an  advanced 
scout  on  the  alert,  to  give  notice  of  approaching 
danger.  Nor  is  the  least  beautiful  part  of  ani- 
mated nature  the  various  tribes  of  insects  peopling 
every  plant,  and  displaying  brilliant  coats  of  mail, 
which  sparkle  like  precious  gems.* 

Such  is  the  splendor  of  animal  and  vegetable 
creation  in  these  tropical  climates,  where  an 
ardent  sun  imparts  its  own  lustre  to  every  object, 
and  quickens  nature  into  exuberant  fecundity.  The 
birds,  in  general,  are  not  remarkable  for  their 
notes,  for  it  has  been  observed  that  in  the  feather- 
ed race  sweetness  of  song  rarely  accompanies 
brilliancy  of  plumage.  Columbus  remarks,  how- 
ever, that  there  were  various  kinds  which  sang 
sweetly  among  the  trees,  and  he  frequently  de- 
ceived himself  in  fancying  that  he  heard  the  voice 
of  the  nightingale,  a  bird  unknown  in  these  coun- 
tries. He  was,  in  fact,  in  a  mood  to  see  every- 
thing through  a  favoring  medium.  His  heart 
was  full  to  overflowing,  tor  he  was  enjoying  the 
fulfilment  of  his  hopes,  and  the  hard-earned  but 
glorious  reward  of  his  toils  and  perils.  Every- 
thing round  him  was  beheld  with  the  enamored 
and  exulting  eye  of  a  discoverer,  where  triumph 
mingles  with  admiration  ;  and  it  is  difficult  to 
conceive  the  rapturous  state  of  his  feelings,  while 
thus  exploring  the  charms  of  a  virgin  world,  won 
by  his  enterprise  and  valor. 

From  his  continual  remarks  on  the  beauty  of 
scenery,  and  from  his  evident  delight  in  rural 
sounds  and  objects,  he  appears  to  have  been  ex- 
tremely open  to  those  happy  influences,  exercised 
over  some  spirits,  by  the  graces  and  wonders  of 
nature.  He  gives  utterance  to  these  feelings  with 
characteristic  enthusiasm,  and  at  the  same  time 
with  the  artlessness  and  simplicity  of  diction  of  a 
child.  When  speaking  of  some  lovely  scene 
among  the  groves,  or  along  the  flowery  shores  of 
these  favored  islands,  he  says,  "  one  could  live 
there  for  ever."  Cuba  broke  upon  him  like  an 
elysium.  "  It  is  the  most  beautiful  island,"  he 
says,  "  that  eyes  ever  beheld,  full  of  excellent 
ports  and  profound  rivers."  The  climate  was 
more  temperate  here  than  in  the  other  islands,  the 
nights  being  neither  hot  nor  cold,  while  the  birds 
and  crickets  sang  all  night  long.  Indeed  there  is 
a  beauty  in  a  tropical  night,  in  the  depth  of  the 
dark  blue  sky,  the  lambent  purity  of  the  stars,  and 
the  resplendent  clearness  of  the  moon,  that  spreads 
over  the  rich  landscape  and  the  balmy  groves  a 
charm  more  captivating  than  the  splendor  of  the 
day. 

In  the  sweet  smell  of  the  woods  and  the  odor 
of  the  flowers  Columbus  fancied  he  perceived 
the  fragrance  of  oriental  spices  ;  and  along  the 


*  The  ladies  of  Havana,  on  gala  occasions,  wear 
in  their  hair  numbers  of  those  insects,  which  have  a 
brilliancy  equal  to  rubies,  sapphires,  or  diamonds. 


shores  he  found  shells  of  the  kind  of  oyster  which 
produces  pearls.  From  the  grass  growing  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  water,  he  inferred  the  peaceful- 
ness  of  the  ocean  which  bathes  these  islands, 
never  lashing  the  shores  with  angry  surges.  Ever 
since  his  arrival  among  these  Antilles  he  had 
experienced  nothing  but  soft  and  gentle  weather, 
and  he  concluded  that  a  perpetual  serenity  reign- 
ed over  these  happy  seas.  He  was  little  suspi- 
cious of  the  occasional  bursts  of  fury  to  which  they 
are  liable.  Charlevoix,  speaking  from  actual  ob- 
servation, remarks,  "  The  sea  of  those  islands  is 
commonly  more  tranquil  than  ours  ;  but,  like  cer- 
tain people  who  are  excited  with  difficulty,  and 
whose  transports  of  passion  are  as  violent  as  they 
are  rare,  so  when  the  sea  becomes  irritated,  it  is 
terrible.  It  breaks  all  bounds,  overflows  the  coun- 
try, sweeps  away  all  things  that  oppose  it,  and 
leaves  Irightful  ravages  behind,  to  mark  the  ex- 
tent of  its  inundations.  It  is  after  these  tempests, 
known  by  the  name  of  hurricanes,  that  the  shores 
are  covered  with  marine  shells,  which  greatly  sur- 
pass in  lustre  and  beauty  those  of  the  European 
seas."*  It  is  a  singular  fact,  however,  that  the 
hurricanes,  which  almost  annually  devastate  the 
Bahamas,  and  other  islands  in  the  immediate  vi- 
cinity of  Cuba,  have  been  seldom  known  to  extend 
their  influence  to  this  favored  land.  It  would  seem 
as  if  the  very  elements  were  charmed  into  gentle- 
ness as  they  approached  it. 

In  a  kind  of  riot  of  the  imagination,  Columbus 
finds  at  every  step  something  to  corroborate  the 
information  he  had  received,  or  fancied  he  had 
received,  from  the  natives.  He  had  conclusive 
proofs,  as  he  thought,  that  Cuba  possessed  mines 
of  gold,  and  groves  of  spices,  and  that  its  shores' 
abounded  with  pearls.  He  no  longer  doubted 
that  it  was  the  island  of  Cipango,  and  weighing 
anchor,  coasted  along  westward,  in  which  direc- 
tion, according  to  the  signs  of  his  interpreters,  the 
magnificent  city  of  its  king  was  situated.  In  the 
course  of  his  voyage  he  landed  occasionally,  and 
visited  several  villages  ;  particularly  one  on  the 
banks  of  a  large  river,  to  which  he  gave  the  name 
of  Rio  de  los  Mares. f  The  houses  were  neatly 
built  of  branches  of  palm-trees  in  the  shape  of  pa- 
vilions ;  not  laid  out  in  regular  streets,  but  scat- 
tered here  and  there,  among  the  groves,  and  un- 
der the  shade  of  broad  spreading  trees,  like  tents 
in  a  camp  ;  as  is  still  the  case  in  many  of  the 
Spanish  settlements,  and  in  the  villages  in  the 
interior  of  Cuba.  The  inhabitants  fled  to  the 
mountains,  or  hid  themselves  in  the  woods.  Co- 
lumbus carefully  noted  the  architecture  and  fur- 
niture of  their  dwellings.  The  houses  were  bet- 
ter built  than  those  he  had  hitherto  seen,  and 
were  kept  extremely  clean.  He  found  in  them 
rude  statues,  and  wooden  masks,  carved  with 
considerable  ingenuity.  All  these  were  indica- 
tions of  more  art  and  civilization  than  he  had  ob- 
served in  the  smaller  islands,  and  he  supposed 
they  would  go  on  increasing  as  he  approached 
terra  firma.  Finding  in  all  the  cabins  imple- 
ments for  fishing,  he  concluded  that  these  coasts 
were  inhabited  merely  by  fishermen,  who  carried 
their  fish  to  the  cities  in  the  interior.  He  thought 
also  he  had  found  the  skulls  of  cows,  which  proved 
that  there  were  cattle  in  the  island  ;  though  these 
are  supposed  to  have  been  skulls  of  the  manati  or 
sea-calf  found  on  this  coast. 

After  standing  to  the  north-west  for  some  dis- 


*  Charlevoix,    Hist.   St.   Domingo,  lib.   i.   p.   20. 
Paris,  1730. 
f  Now  called  Savannah  la  Mer. 


48 


LIFE   AND    VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


tance,  Columbus  came  in  sight  of  a  great  head- 
land, to  which,  from  the  groves  with  which  it  was 
covered,  he  gave  the  name  of  the  Cape  of  Palms, 
and  which  forms  the  eastern  entrance  to  what  is 
now  known  as  Laguna  de  Moron.  Here  three  In- 
dians, natives  of  the  Island  of  Guanahani,  who 
were  on  board  of  the  Pinta,  informed  the  com- 
mander, Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon,  that  behind  the 
cape  there  was  a  river,  whence  it  was  but  four 
days'  journey  to  Cubanacan,  a  place  abounding 
in  gold.  By  this  they  designated  a  province  situ- 
ated in  the  centre  of  Cuba  ;  nacan,  in  their  lan- 
guage, signifying  the  midst.  Pinzon,  however, 
had  studied  intently  the  map  of  Toscanelli,  and  had 
imbibed  from  Columbus  all  his  ideas  respecting 
the  coast  of  Asia.  He  concluded,  therefore,  that 
the  Indians  were  talking  of  Cublai  Khan,  the  Tar- 
tar sovereign,  and  of  certain  parts  of  his  dominions 
described  by  Marco  Polo.*  He  understood  from 
them  that  Cuba  was  not  an  island,  but  terra 
firma,  extending  a  vast  distance  to  the  north,  and 
that  the  king  who  reigned  in  this  vicinity  was  at 
war  with  the  Great  Khan. 

This  tissue  of  errors  and  misconceptions  he 
immediately  communicated  to  Columbus.  It  put 
an  end  to  the  delusion  in  which  the  admiral  had 
hitherto  indulged,  that  this  was  the  island  of 
Cipango  ;  but  it  substituted  another  no  less  agree- 
able. He  concluded  that  he  must  have  reached 
the  main-land  of  Asia,  or  as  he  termed  it,  India, 
and  if  so,  he  could  not  be  any  great  distance  from 
Mangi  and  Cathay,  the  ultimate  destination  of  his 
voyage.  The  prince  in  question,  who  reigned 
over  this  neighboring  country,  must  be  some 
oriental  potentate  of  consequence  ;  he  resolved, 
therefore,  to  seek  the  river  beyond  the  Cape  of 
Palms,  and  dispatch  a  present  to  the  monarch, 
with  one  of  the  letters  of  recommendation  from 
the  Castilian  sovereigns  ;  and  after  visiting  his 
dominions  he  would  proceed  to  the  capital  of  Ca- 
thay, the  residence  of  the  Grand  Khan. 

Every  attempt  to  reach  the  river  in  question, 
however,  proved  ineffectual.  Cape  stretched  be- 
yond cape  ;  there  was  no  good  anchorage  ;  the 
wind  became  contrary,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
heavens  threatening  rough  weather,  he  put  back 
to  the  Rio  de  los  Mares. 

On  the  ist  of  November,  at  sunrise,  he  sent  the 
boats  on  shore  to  visit  several  houses,  but  the 
inhabitants  fled  to  the  woods.  He  supposed  that 
they  must  mistake  his  armament  for  one  of  the 
scouring  expeditions  sent  by  the  Grand  Khan  to 
make  prisoners  and  slaves.  He  sent  the  boat  on 
shore  again  in  the  afternoon,  with  an  Indian  inter- 
preter, who  was  instructed  to  assure  the  people  of 
the  peaceable  and  beneficent  intentions  of  the 
Spaniards,  and  that  they  had  no  connection  with 
the  Grand  Khan.  After  the  Indian  had  proclaimed 
this  from  the  boat  to  the  savages  upon  the  beach, 
part  of  it,  no  doubt,  to  their  great  perplexity,  he 
threw  himself  into  the  water  and  swam  to  shore. 
He  was  well  received  by  the  natives,  and  succeed- 
ed so  effectually  in  calming  their  fears,  that  before 
evening  there  were  more  than  sixteen  canoes 
about  the  ships,  bringing  cotton  yarn  and  other 
simple  articles  of  traffic.  Columbus  forbade  all 
trading  for  anything  but  gold,  that  the  natives 
might  be  tempted  to  produce  the  real  riches  of 
their  country.  They  had  none  to  offer  ;  all  were 
destitute  of  ornaments  of  the  precious  metals,  ex- 
cepting one,  who  wore  in  his  nose  a  piece  of 
wrought  silver.  Columbus  understood  this  man  to 
say  that  the  king  lived  about  the  distance  of  four 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  44,  MS. 


clays'  journey  in  the  interior  ;  that  many  mes. 
sengers  had  been  dispatched  to  give  him  tidings 
of  the  arrival  of  the  strangers  upon  the  coast  ; 
and  that  in  less  than  three  days'  time  messengers 
might  be  expected  from  him  in  return,  and  many 
merchants  from  the  interior,  to  trade  with  the 
ships.  It  is  curious  to  observe  how  ingeniously 
the  imagination  of  Columbus  deceived  him  at 
every  step,  and  how  he  wove  everything  into  a 
uniform  web  of  false  conclusions.  Poring  over 
the  map  of  Toscanelli,  referring  to  the  reckonings 
of  his  voyage,  and  musing  on  the  misinterpreted 
words  of  the  Indians,  he  imagined  that  he  must 
be  on  the  borders  of  Cathay,  and  about  one  hun- 
dred leagues  from  the  capital  of  the  Grand  Khan. 
Anxious  to  arrive  there,  and  to  delay  as  little  as 
possible  in  the  territories  of  an  inferior  prince,  he 
determined  not  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  mes- 
sengers and  merchants,  but  to  dispatch  two  en- 
voys to  seek  the  neighboring  monarch  at  his  resi- 
dence. 

For  this  mission  he  chose  two  Spaniards,  Rocl- 
rigo  de  Jerez  and  Luis  de  Torres  ;  the  latter  a 
converted  Jew,  who  knew  Hebrew  and  Chaldaic, 
and  even  something  of  Arabic,  one  or  other  of 
which  Columbus  supposed  might  be  known  to  this 
oriental  prince.  Two  Indians  were  sent  with 
them  as  guides,  one  a  native  of  Guanahani,  and 
the  other  an  inhabitant  of  the  hamlet  on  the  bank 
of  the  river.  The  ambassadors  were  furnished 
with  strings  of  beads  and  other  trinkets  for  trav- 
elling expenses.  Instructions  were  given  them  to 
inform  the  king  that  Columbus  had  been  sent  by 
the  Castilian  sovereigns,  a  bearer  of  letters  and  a 
present,  which  he  was  to  deliver  personally,  for 
the  purpose  of  establishing  an  amicable  inter- 
course between  the  powers.  They  were  likewise 
to  inform  themselves  accurately  about  the  situa- 
tion and  distances  of  certain  provinces,  ports,  and 
rivers,  which  the  admiral  specified  by  name  from 
the  descriptions  which  he  had  of  the  coast  of 
Asia.  They  were  moreover  provided  with  speci- 
mens of  spices  and  drugs,  for  the  purpose  of 
ascertaining  whether  any  articles  of  the  kind 
abounded  in  the  country.  With  these  provisions 
and  instructions  the  ambassadors  departed,  six 
days  being  allowed  them  to  go  and  return.  Many, 
at  the  present  day,  will  smile  at  this  embassy  to  a 
naked  savage  chieftain  in  the  interior  of  Cuba,  in 
mistake  for  an  Asiatic  monarch  ;  but  such  was 
the  singular  nature  of  this  voyage,  a  continual 
series  of  golden  dreams,  and  all  interpreted  by 
the  deluding  volume  of  Marco  Polo. 


CHAPTER  IV. 
FURTHER  COASTING  OF  CUBA. 

WHILE  awaiting  the  return  of  his  ambassadors, 
the  admiral  ordered  the  ships  to  be  careened 
and  repaired,  and  employed  himself  in  collecting 
information  concerning  the  country.  On  the  day- 
after  their  departure,  he  ascended  the  river  in 
boats  for  the  distance  of  two  leagues,  until  he 
came  to  fresh  water.  Here  landing,  he  climbed 
a  hill  to  obtain  a  view  of  the  interior.  His  view, 
however,  was  shut  in  by  thick  and  lofty  forests, 
of  wild  but  beautiful  luxuriance.  Among  the 
trees  were  some  which  he  considered  linaloes  ; 
many  were  odoriferous,  and  he  doubted  not  pos- 
sessed valuable  aromatic  qualities.  There  was  a 
general  eagerness  among  the  voyagers  to  find  the 
precious  articles  of  commerce  which  grow  in  the 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


40 


favored  climes  of  the  East,  and  their  imaginations 
were  continually  deceived  by  their  hopes. 

For  two  or  three  days  the  admiral  was  excited 
by  reports  of  cinnamon-trees,  and  nutmegs,  and 
rhubarb  ;  but  on  examination  they  all  proved  fal- 
lacious. He  showed  the  natives  specimens  of 
those  and  various  other  spices  and  drugs,  and  un- 
derstood from  them  that  those  articles  abounded 
to  the  south-east.  He  showed  them  gold  and 
pearls  also,  and  several  old  Indians  spoke  of  a 
country  where  the  natives  wore  ornaments  of 
them  round  their  necks,  arms,  and  ankles.  They 
repeatedly  mentioned  the  word  Bohio,  which  Co- 
lumbus supposed  to  be  the  name  of  the  place  in 
question,  and  that  it  was  some  rich  district  or 
island.  They  mingled,  however,  great  extrava- 
gances with  their  imperfect  accounts,  describing 
nations  at  a  distance  who  had  but  one  eye  ;  others 
who  had  the  heads  of  dogs,  and  who  were  canni- 
bals— cutting  the  throats  of  their  prisoners  and 
sucking  their  blood.* 

All  these  reports  of  gold,  and  pearls,  and 
spices,  many  of  which  were  probably  fabrications 
to  please  the  admiral,  tended  to  keep  up  the  per- 
suasion that  he  was  among  the  valuable  coasts 
and  islands  of  the  East.  On  making  a  fire  to  heat 
the  tar  for  careening  the  ships,  the  seamen  found 
that  the  wood  they  burnt  sent  forth  a  powerful 
odor,  and,  on  examining  it,  declared  that  it  was 
mastic.  The  wood  abounded  in  the  neighboring 
forests,  insomuch  that  Columbus  flattered  himself 
a  thousand  quintals  of  this  precious  gum  might 
be  collected  every  year,  and  a  more  abundant 
supply  procured  than  that  furnished  by  Scios  and 
other  islands  of  the  Archipelago.  In  the  course 
of  their  researches  in  the  vegetable  kingdom,  in 
quest  of  the  luxuries  of  commerce,  they  met  with 
the  potato,  a  humble  root,  little  valued  at  the 
time,  but  a  more  precious  acquisition  to  man  than 
all  the  spices  of  the  East. 

On  the  6th  of  November,  the  two  ambassadors 
returned,  and  every  one  crowded  to  hear  tidings 
of  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  of  the  prince  to 
whose  capital  they  had  been  sent.  After  pene- 
trating twelve  leagues,  they  had  come  to  a  village 
of  fifty  houses,  built  similarly  to  those  of  the  coast, 
but  larger  ;  the  whole  village  containing  at  least 
a  thousand  inhabitants.  The  natives  received 
them  with  great  solemnity,  conducted  them  to  the 
best  house,  and  placed  them  in  what  appeared  to 
be  intended  for  chairs  of  state,  being  wrought  out 
of  single  pieces  of  wood,  into  the  forms  of  quadru- 
peds. They  then  offered  them  fruits  and  vege- 
tables. Having  complied  with  the  laws  of  savage 
courtesy  and  hospitality,  they  seated  themselves 
on  the  ground  around  their  visitors,  and  waited 
to  hear  what  they  had  to  communicate. 

The  Israelite,  Luis  de  Torres,  found  his  He- 
brew, Chaldaic,  and  Arabic  of  no  avail,  and  the 
Lucayen  interpreter  had  to  be  the  orator.  He 
made  a  regular  speech,  after  the  Indian  manner, 
in  which  he  extolled  the  power,  the  wealth,  the 
munificence  of  the  white  men.  When  he  had 
finished  the  Indians  crowded  round  these  won- 
derful beings,  whom,  as  usual,  they  considered 
more  than  human.  Some  touched  them,  exam- 
ining their  skin  and  raiment,  others  kissed  their 
hands  and  feet,  in  token  of  submission  or  adora- 
tion. In  a  little  while  the  men  withdrew,  and 
were  succeeded  by  the  women,  and  the  same  cer- 
emonies were  repeated.  Some  of  the  women  had 
a  slight  covering  of  netted  cotton  round  the  mid- 
dle, but  in  general  both  sexes  were  entirely  naked. 

*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  Ixxi.  p.  48. 


There  seemed  to  be  ranks  and  orders  of  society 
among  them,  and  a  chieftain  of  some  authority  ; 
whereas  among  all  the  natives  they  had  previously 
met  with  a  complete  equality  seemed  to  prevail. 

There  was  no  appearance  of  gold  or  other  pre- 
cious articles,  and  when  they  showed  specimens 
of  cinnamon,  pepper,  and  other  spices,  the  inhab- 
itants told  them  they  were  not  to  be  found  in  that 
neighborhood,  but  far  off  to  the  south-west. 

The  envoys  determined,  therefore,  to  return  to 
the  ships.  The  natives  would  fain  have  induced 
them  to  remain  for  several  days  ;  but  seeing  them 
bent  on  departing,  a  great  number  were  anxious  to 
accompany  them,  imagining  they  were  about  to 
return  to  the  skies.  They  took  with  them,  how- 
ever, only  one  of  the  principal  men,  with  his  son, 
who  were  attended  by  a  domestic. 

On  their  way  back,  they  for  the  first  time  wit- 
nessed the  use  of  a  weed,  which  the  ingenious 
caprice  of  man  has  since  converted  into  an  uni- 
versal luxury,  in  defiance  of  the  opposition  of  the 
senses.  They  beheld  several  of  the  natives  go- 
ing about  with  firebrands  in  their  hands,  and  cer- 
tain dried  herbs  which  they  rolled  up  in  a  leaf, 
and  lighting  one  end,  put  the  other  in  their  mouths, 
and  continued  exhaling  and  puffing  out  the  smoke. 
A  roll  of  this  kind  they  called  a  tobacco,  a 
name  since  transferred  to  the  plant  of  which  the 
rolls  were  made.  The  Spaniards,  although  pre- 
pared to  meet  with  wonders,  were  struck  with  as- 
tonishment at  this  singular  and  apparently  nau- 
seous indulgence.* 

On  their  return  to  the  ships  they  gave  favor- 
able accounts  of  the  beauty  and- fertility  of  the 
country.  They  had  met  with  many  hamlets  of 
four  or  five  houses,  well  peopled,  embowered 
among  trees,  laden  with  unknown  fruits  of  tempt- 
ing hue  and  delightful  flavor.  Around  them  were 
fields,  cultivated  with  the  agi  or  sweet  pepper, 
potatoes,  maize  or  Indian  corn,  a  species  of  lupin 
or  pulse,  and  yuca,  whereof  they  made  their  cas- 
sava bread.  These,  with  the  fruits  of  the  groves, 
formed  their  principal  food.  There  were  vast 
quantities  of  cotton,  some  just  sown,  some  in  full 
growth.  There  was  great  store  of  it  also  in  their 
houses,  some  wrought  into  yarn,  or  into  nets,  of 
which  they  made  their  hammocks.  They  had 
seen  many  birds  of  rare  plumage,  but  unknown 
species  ;  many  ducks  ;  several  small  partridges  ; 
and  they  heard  the  song  of  a  bird  which  they  had 
mistaken  for  the  nightingale.  All  that  they  had 
seen,  however,  betokened  a  primitive  and  simple 
state  of  society.  The  wonder  with  which  they 
had  been  regarded  showed  clearly  that  the  people 
were  strangers  to  civilized  man,  nor  could  they 
hear  of  any  inland  city  superior  to  the  one  they 
had  visited. 

The  report  of  the  envoys  put  an  end  to  many 
splendid  fancies  of  Columbus,  about  the  barbaric 
prince  and  his  capital.  He  was  cruising,  how- 
ever, in  a  region  of  enchantment,  in  which  pleas- 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  51. 

"  Hallaron  por  el  camtno  mucha  gente  que  atrave- 
saban  a  sus  pueblos  mugeres  yhombres  :  siempre  los 
hombres  con  un  tison  en  las  manos  y  ciertcs  yerbas 
para  tomar  sus  sahumerios,  que  son  unas  yerbas  secas 
metidas  en  una  cierta  hoja  seca  tambien  a  manera  de 
mosquete  hecho  de  papel  de  los  que  hacon  los 
muchachos  la  Pascua  del  Espiritu  Santo,  y  encondido 
por  una  parte  de  el,  por  la  otru  chupan  6  sorbant  6 
reciben  con  el  resuello  por  adentro  aquel  humo  ;  con 
el  qual  se  adormecen  las  carnes  y  cuasi  emborracho, 
y  asi  diz  que  no  sienten  el  caasancio.  Estos  mosque- 
tos,  6  como  los  llam&remas,  llamen  ellos  tabacos."— 
.  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Gen.  Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  46. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ing  chimeras  started  up  at  every  step,  exercising 
by  turns  a  power  over  his  imagination.  During 
the  absence  of  the  emissaries,  the  Indians  had  in- 
formed him,  by  signs,  of  a  place  to  the  eastward, 
where  the  people  collected  gold  along  the  river 
banks  by  torchlight,  and  afterward  wrought  it 
into  bars  with  hammers.  In  speaking  of  this 
place  they  again  used  the  words  Babeque  and  Bo- 
hio,  which  he,  as  usual,  supposed  to  be  the  proper 
names  of  islands  or  countries.  The  true  mean- 
ing of  these  words  has  been  variously  explained. 
It  is  said  that  they  were  applied  by  the  Indians  to 
the  coast  of  terra  firma,  called  also  by  them  Cari- 
taba.*  It  is  also  said  that  Bohio  means  a  house, 
and  was  often  used  by  the  Indians  to  signify  the 
populousness  of  an  isand.  Hence  it  was  frequent- 
ly applied  to  Hispaniola,  as  well  as  the  more  gen- 
eral name  of  Hayti,  which  means  high  land,  and 
occasionally  Quisqueya  (i.e.  the  whole),  on  ac- 
count of  its  extent. 

The  misapprehension  of  these,  and  other  words, 
was  a  source  .of  perpetual  error  to  Columbus. 
Sometimes  he  supposed  Babeque  and  Bohio  to 
signify  the  same  islands  ;  sometimes  to  be  differ- 
ent places  or  islands  ;  and  Quisqueya  he  sup- 
posed to  mean  Quisai  or  Ouinsai  (i.e.  the  celes- 
tial city)  mentioned  by  Marco  Polo. 

His  great  object  was  to  arrive  at  some  opulent 
and  civilized  country  of  the  East,  with  which 
he  might  establish  commercial  relations,  and 
whence  he  might  carry  home  a  quantity  of  ori- 
ental merchandise  as  a  rich  trophy  of  his  discov- 
ery. The  season  was  advancing  ;  the  cool  nights 
gave  hints  of  approaching  winter  ;  he  resolved, 
therefore,  not  to  proceed  farther  to  the  north,  nor 
to  linger  about  uncivilized  places,  which,  at  pres- 
ent, he  had  not  the  means  of  colonizing,  but  to 
return  to  the  east-south-east,  inquest  of  Babeque, 
which  he  trusted  might  prove  some  rich  and  civ- 
ilized island  on  the  coast  of  Asia. 

Before  leaving  the  river,  to  which  he  had  given 
the  name  of  Rio  de  Mares,  he  took  several  of  the 
natives  to  carry  with  him  to  Spain,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  teaching  them  the  language,  that,  in  fu- 
ture voyages,  they  might  serve  as  interpreters. 
He  took  them  of  both  sexes,  having  learned  from 
the  Portuguese  discoverers  that  the  men  were 
always  more  contented  on  the  voyage,  and  service- 
able on  their  return,  when  accompanied  by  fe- 
males. With  the  religious  feeling  of  the  day,  he 
anticipated  great  triumphs  to  the  faith  and  glory 
to  the  crown,  from  the  conversion  of  these  savage 
nations,  through  the  means  of  the  natives  thus 
instructed.  He  imagined  that  the  Indians  had 
no  system  of  religion,  but  a  disposition  to  receive 
its  impressions  ;  as  they  regarded  with  great  rev- 
erence and  attention  the  religious  ceremonies  of 
the  Spaniards,  soon  repeating  by  rote  any  prayer 
taught  them,  and  making  the  sign  of  the  cross 
with  the  most  edifying  devotion.  They  had  an 
idea  of  a  future  state,  but  limited  and  confused. 
"They  confess  the  soul  to  be  immortal,"  says 
Peter  Martyr,  "  and  having  put  off  the  bodily 
clothing,  they  imagine  it  goes  forth  to  the  woods 
and  the  mountains,  and  that  it  liveth  there  per- 
petually in  caves  ;  nor  do  they  exempt  it  from 
eating  and  drinking,  but  that  it  should  be  fed 
there.  The  answering  voices  heard  from  caves 
and  hollows,  which  the  Latines  call  echoes,  they 
suppose  to  be  the  souls  of  the  departed,  wander- 
ing through  those  places."  f 


*  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  cap.  3. 
f  P.  Martyr,  decad,  viii.  cap.  9  ;  M.  Lock's  trans- 
lation, 1612. 


From  the  natural  tendency  to  devotion  which 
Columbus  thought  he  discovered  among  them, 
from  their  gentle  natures,  and  their  ignorance  ot 
all  warlike  arts,  he  pronounces  it  an  easy  matter 
to  make  them  devout  members  of  the  church  and 
loyal  subjects  of  the  crown.  He  concludes  his 
speculations  upon  the  advantages  to  be  derived 
from  the  colonization  of  these  parts  by  antici- 
pating a  great  trade  for  gold,  which  must  abound 
in  the  interior  ;  for  pearls  and  precious  stones,  of 
which,  though  he  had  seen  none,  he  had  received 
frequent  accounts  ;  for  gums  and  spices,  of  which 
he  thought  he  had  found  indubitable  traces  ;  and 
for  the  cotton,  which  grew  wild  in  vast  quantities. 
Many  of  these  articles,  he  observes,  would  proba- 
bly find  a  nearer  market  than  Spain,  in  the  ports 
and  cities  of  the  Great  Khan,  at  which  he  had  nq 
doubt  of  soon  arriving.* 


CHAPTER  V. 

SEARCH    AFTER    THE  SUPPOSED    ISLAND     OF    BA- 
BEQUE— DESERTION    OF  THE  PINTA. 

[I492-] 

ON  the  I2th  of  November,  Columbus  turned  his 
course  to  the  east-south-east,  to  follow  back  the 
direction  of  the  coast.  This  may  be  considered 
another  critical  change  in  his  voyage,  which  had 
a  great  effect  upon  his  subsequent  discoveries. 
He  had  proceeded  far  within  what  is  called  the 
old  channel,  between  Cuba  and  the  Bahamas.  In 
two  or  three  days  more  he  would  have  discovered 
his  mistake  in  supposing  Cuba  a  part  of  terra 
firma  ;  an  error  in  which  he  continued  to  the  day 
of  his  death.  He  might  have  had  intimation  also 
of  the  vicinity  of  the  continent,  and  have  stood 
for  the  coast  of  Florida,  or  have  been  carried 
thither  by  the  gulf  stream,  or,  continuing  along 
Cuba  where  it  bends  to  the  south-west,  might  have 
struck  over  to  the  opposite  coast  of  Yucatan,  and 
have  realized  his  most  sanguine  anticipations  in 
becoming  the  discoverer  of  Mexico.  It  was  suffi- 
cient glory  for  Columbus,  however,  to  have  dis- 
covered a  new  world.  Its  more  golden  regions 
were  reserved  to  give  splendor  to  succeeding  en- 
terprises. 

He  now  ran  along  the  coast  for  two  or  three 
days  without  stopping  to  explore  it,  as  no  popu- 
lous towns  or  cities  were  to  be  seen.  Passing  by 
a  great  cape,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Cape 
Cuba,  he  struck  eastward  in  search  of  Babeque, 
but  on  the  I4th  a  head  wind  and  boisterous  sea 
obliged  him  to  put  back  and  anchor  in  a  deep  and 
secure  harbor,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Pu- 
erto del  Principe.  Here  he  erected  a  cross  on  a 
neighboring  height,  in  token  of  possession.  A 
few  days  were  passed  in  exploring  with  his  boats 
an  archipelago  of  small  but  beautiful  islands  in 
the  vicinity,  since  known  as  El  jar  din  del  Rey, 
or  the  king's  garden.  The  gulf,  studded  with 
these  islands,  he  named  the  sea  of  Nuestra  Se- 
fiora  ;  in  modern  days  it  has  been  a  lurking-place 
for  pirates,  who  have  found  secure  shelter  and  con- 
cealment among  the  channels  and  solitary  harbors 
of  this  archipelago.  These  islands  were  covered 
with  noble  trees,  among  which  the  Spaniards 
thought  they  discovered  mastic  and  aloes. 

On  the  i  gth  Columbus  again  put  to  sea,  and  for 
two  days  made  ineffectual  attempts,  against  head 
winds,  to  reach  an  island  directly  east,  about 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.     Navarrete,  torn.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


51 


sixty  miles  distant,  which  he  supposed  to  be  Ba- 
beque.  The  wind  continuing  obstinately  adverse 
and  the  sea  rough,  he  put  his  ship  about  toward 
evening  of  the  2oth,  making  signals  for  the  other 
vessels  to  follow  him.  His  signals  were  unattend- 
ed to  by  the  Pinta,  which  was  considerably  to  the 
eastward.  Columbus  repeated  the  signals,  but 
they  were  still  unattended  to.  Night  corning  on, 
he  shortened  sail  and  hoisted  signal  lights  to  the 
masthead,  thinking  Pinzon  would  yet  join  him, 
which  he  could  easily  do,  having  the  wind  astern  ; 
but  when  the  morning  dawned  the  Pinta  was  no 
longer  to  be  seen.* 

Columbus  was  disquieted  by  this  circumstance. 
Pinzon  was  a  veteran  navigator,  accustomed  to 
hold  a  high  rank  among  his  nautical  associates. 
The  squadron  had  in  a  great  measure  been 
manned  and  fitted  out  through  his  influence  and 
exertions  ;  he  could  ill  brook  subordination  there- 
fore to  Columbus,  whom  he  perhaps  did  not  con- 
sider his  superior  in  skill  and  knowledge,  and  who 
had  been  benefitted  by  his  purse.  Several  mis- 
understandings and  disputes  had  accordingly  oc- 
curred between  them  in  the  course  of  the  voyage, 
and  when  Columbus  saw  Pinzon  thus  parting 
company,  without  any  appointed  rendezvous,  he 
suspected  either  that  he  intended  to  take  upon 
himself  a  separate  command  and  prosecute  the 
enterprise  in  his  own  name,  or  hasten  back 
to  Spain  and  bear  off  the  glory  of  the  dis- 
covery. To  attempt  to  seek  him,  however,  was 
fruitless  :  he  was  far  out  of  sight  ;  his  vessel 
was  a  superior  sailer,  and  it  was  impossible 
to  say  what  course  he  had  steered.  Colum- 
bus stood  back,  therefore,  for  Cuba,  to  finish 
the  exploring  of  its  coast  ;  but  he  no  longer  pos- 
sessed his  usual  serenity  of  mind  and  unity  of 
purpose,  and  was  embarrassed  in  the  prosecution 
of  his  discoveries  by  doubts  of  the  designs  of 
Pinzon. 

On  the  24th  of  November  he  regained  Point 
Cuba,  and  anchored  in  a  fine  harbor  formed 
by  the  mouth  of  a  river,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  St.  Catherine.  It  was  bordered  by  rich 
meadows  ;  the  neighboring  mountains  were  well 
wooded,  having  pines  tall  enough  to  make  masts 
for  the  finest  ships,  and  noble  oaks.  In  the 
bed  of  the  river  were  found  stones  veined  with 
gold. 

Columbus  continued  for  several  days  coasting 
the  residue  of  Cuba,  extolling  the  magnificence, 
freshness,  and  verdure  of  the  scenery,  the  purity 
of  the  rivers,  and  the  number  and  commodious- 
ness  of  the  harbors.  Speaking  in  his  letters  to 
the  sovereigns  of  one  place,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  Puerto  Santo,  he  says,  in  his  artless  but 
enthusiastic  language,  "  The  amenity  of  this 
river,  and  the  clearness  of  the  water,  through 
which  the  sand  at  the  bottom  may  be  seen  ;  the 
multitude  of  palm-trees  of  various  forms,  the  high- 
est and  most  beautiful  that  I  have  met  with,  and 
an  infinity  of  other  great  and  green  trees  ;  the 
birds  in  rich  plumage  and  the  verdure  of  the 
fields,  render  this  country,  most  serene  princes, 
of  such  marvellous  beauty,  that  it  surpasses  all 
others  in  charms  and  graces,  as  the  clay  doth  the 
night  in  lustre.  For  which  reason  I  often  say  to 
my  people,  that,  much  as  I  endeavor  to  give  a 
complete  account  of  it  to  your  majesties,  my 
tongue  cannot  express  the  whole  truth,  nor  my 
pen  describe  it ;  and  I  have  been  so  overwhelmed 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  torn.  i.  cap.  27.  Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  29.  Journal  of  Columbus.  Navar- 
rete,  torn.  i. 


at  the  sight  of  so  much  beauty,  that  I  have  not 
known  how  to  relate  it."* 

The  transparency  of  the  water,  which  Colum- 
bus attributed  to  the  purity  of  the  rivers,  is  the 
property  of  the  ocean  in  these  latitudes.  So  clear 
is  the  sea  in  the  neighborhood  of  some  of  these 
islands,  that  in  still  weather  the  bottom  may  be 
seen,  as  in  a  crystal  fountain  ;  and  the  inhabi- 
tants dive  down  four  or  five  fathoms  in  search  of 
conchs,  and  other  shell-fish,  which  are  visible 
from  the  surface.  The  delicate  air  and  pure 
waters  of  these  islands  are  among  their  greatest 
charms. 

As  a  proof  of  the  gigantic  vegetation,  Colum- 
bus mentions  the  enormous  size  of  the  canoes 
formed  from  single  trunks  of  trees.  One  that  he 
saw  was  capable  of  containing  one  hundred  and 
fifty  persons.  Among  other  articles  found  in  the 
Indian  dwellings  was  a  cake  of  wax,  which  he 
took  to  present  to  the  Castilian  sovereigns,  "  for 
where  there  is  wax,"  said  he,  "  there  must  be  a 
thousand  other  good  things."!  It  is  since  sup- 
posed to  have  been  brought  from  Yucatan,  as  the 
inhabitants  of  Cuba  were  not  accustomed  to 
gather  wax.| 

On  the  5th  of  December  he  reached  the  eastern 
end  of  Cuba,  which  he  supposed  to  be  the  eastern 
extremity  of  Asia  ;  he  gave  it,  therefore,  the 
name  of  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  beginning  and 
the  end.  He  was  now  greatly  perplexed  what 
course  to  take.  If  he  kept  along  the  coast  as  it 
bent  to  the  south-west,  it  might  bring  him  to  the 
more  civilized  and  opulent  parts  of  India  ;  but  if 
he  took  this  course,  he  must  abandon  all  hope  of 
finding  the  island  of  Babeque,  which  the  Indians 
now  said  lay  to  the  north-east,  and  of  which  they 
still  continued  to  give  the  most  marvellous  ac- 
counts. It  was  a  state  of  embarrassment  char- 
acteristic of  this  extraordinary  voyage,  to  have 
a  new  and  unknown  world  thus  spread  out  to 
the  choice  of  the  explorer,  where  wonders  and 
beauties  invited  him  on  every  side  ;  but  where, 
whichever  way  he  turned,  he  might  leave  the  true 
region  of  profit  and  delight  behind. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

DISCOVERY   OF  HISPANIOLA. 

[1492.] 

WHILE  Columbus  was  steering  at  large  beyond 
the  eastern  extremity  of  Cuba,  undetermined  what 
course  to  take,  he  descried  land  to  the  south-east, 
gradually  increasing  upon  the  view  ;  its  high 
mountains  towering  above  the  clear  horizon,  and 
giving  evidence  of  an  island  of  great  extent.  The 
Indians,  on  beholding  it,  exclaimed  Bohio,  the 
name  by  which  Columbus  understood  them  to 
designate  some  country  which  abounded  in  gold. 
When  they  saw  him  standing  in  that  direction, 
they  showed  great  signs  of  terror,  imploring  him 
not  to  visit  it,  assuring  him,  by  signs,  that  the  in- 
habitants were  fierce  and  cruel,  that  they  had  but 
one  eye,  and  were  cannibals.  The  wind  being 
unfavorable,  and  the  nights  long,  during  which 
they  did  not  dare  to  make  sail  in  these  unknown 
seas,  they  were  a  great  part  of  two  days  working 
up  to  the  island. 

In  the  transparent  atmosphere  of  the  tropics, 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  29. 

\  Journal  of  Columbus.     Navarrete,  torn.  i. 

i  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  L 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


objects  are  descried  at  a  great  distance,  and  the 
purity  of  the  air  and  serenity  of  the  deep  blue  sky 
give  a  magical  effect  to  the  scenery.  Under  these 
advantages,  the  beautiful  island  of  Hayti  revealed 
itself  to  the  eye  as  they  approached.  Its  moun- 
tains were  higher  and  more  rocky  than  those  of 
the  other  islands  ;  but  the  rocks  rose  from  among 
rich  forests.  The  mountains  swept  down  into 
luxuriant  plains  and  green  savannas  ;  while  the 
appearance  of  cultivated  fields,  of  numerous  fires 
at  night,  and  columns  of  smoke  by  day,  showed 
it  to  be  populous.  It  rose  before  them  in  all  the 
splendor  of  tropical  vegetation,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  islands  in  the  world,  and  doomed  to  be 
one  of  the  most  unfortunate. 

In  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  December,  Colum- 
bus entered  a  harbor  at  the  western  end  of  the 
island,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  St.  Nicho- 
las, by  which  it  is  called  at  the  present  day.  The 
harbor  was  spacious  and  deep,  surrounded  with 
large  trees,  many  of  them  loaded  with  fruit  ; 
while  a  beautiful  plain  extended  in  front  of  the 
port,  traversed  by  a  fine  stream  of  water.  From 
the  number  of  canoes  seen  in  various  parts,  there 
were  evidently  large  villages  in  the  neighborhood, 
but  the  natives  had  fled  with  terror  at  sight  of  the 
ships. 

Leaving  the  harbor  of  St.  Nicholas  on  the  7th, 
they  coasted  along  the  northern  side  of  the 
island.  It  was  lofty  and  mountainous,  but  with 
green  savannas  and  long  sweeping  plains.  At 
one  place  they  caught  a  view  up  a  rich  and  smil- 
ing valley  that  ran  far  into  the  interior,  between 
two  mountains,  and  appeared  to  be  in  a  high 
state  of  cultivation. 

For  several  days  they  were  detained  in  a  harbor 
which  they  called  Port  Conception  ;  *  a  small 
river  emptied  into  it,  after  winding  through  a  de- 
lightful country.  The  coast  abounded  with  fish, 
some  of  which  even  leaped  into  their  boats.  They 
cast  their  nets,  therefore,  and  caught  great  quan- 
tities, and  among  them  several  kinds  similar  to 
those  of  Spain — the  first  fish  they  had  met  with 
resembling  those  of  their  own  country.  The  notes 
of  the  bird  which  they  mistook  for  the  nightingale, 
and  of  several  others  to  which  they  were  accus- 
tomed, reminded  them  strongly  of  the  groves  of 
their  distant  Andalusia.  They  fancied  the  features 
of  the  surrounding  country  resembled  those  of  the 
more  beautiful  provinces  of  Spain,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, the  admiral  named  the  island  Hispaniola. 

Desirous  of  establishing  some  intercourse  with 
the  natives,  who  had  abandoned  the  coast  on  his 
arrival,  he  dispatched  six  men,  well  armed,  into 
the  interior.  They  found  several  cultivated  fields, 
and  traces  of  roads,  and  places  where  fires  had 
been  made,  but  the  inhabitants  had  fled  with  ter- 
ror to  the  mountains. 

Though  the  whole  country  was  solitary  and 
deserted,  Columbus  consoled  himself  with  the 
idea  that  there  must  be  populous  towns  in  the 
interior,  where  the  people  had  taken  refuge,  and 
that  the  fires  he  had  beheld  had  been  signal  fires, 
like  those  lighted  up  on  the  mountains  of  Spain, 
in  the  times  of  Moorish  war,  to  give  the  alarm 
when  there  was  any  invasion  of  the  seaboard. 


*  Now  known  by  the  name  of  the  Bay  uf  Moustique. 

NOTE. — The  author  has  received  very  obliging  and 
interesting  letters,  dated  in  1847,  from  T.  S.  Heneken, 
Esq.,  many  years  a  resident  of  St.  Domingo,  giving 
names,  localities,  and  other  particulars  connected  with 
the  transactions  of  Columbus  in  that  island.  These 
will  be  thankfully  made  use  of  and  duly  cited  in  the 
course  of  the  work. 


On  the  1 2th  of  December  Columbus  with  great 
solemnity  erected  a  cross  on  a  commanding  emi- 
nence, at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor,  in  sign  of 
having  taken  possession.  As  three  sailors  were 
rambling  about  the  vicinity  they  beheld  a  large 
number  of  the  natives,  who  immediately  took 
flight  ;  but  the  sailors  pursued  them,  and  cap- 
tured a  young  female,  whom  they  brought  to  the 
ships.  She  was  perfectly  naked,  a  bad  omen  as 
to  the  civilization  of  the  island,  but  an  ornament 
of  gold  in  the  nose  gave  hope  of  the  precious 
metal.  The  admiral  soon  soothed  her  terror  by 
his  kindness,  and  by  presents  of  beads,  brass 
rings,  hawks'  bells,  and  other  trinkets,  and,  hav- 
ing had  her  clothed,  sent  her  on  shore  accom- 
panied by  several  of  the  crew  and  three  of  the  In- 
dian interpreters.  So  well  pleased  was  she  with 
her  finery,  and  with  the  kind  treatment  she  had 
experienced,  that  she  would  gladly  have  remained 
with  the  Indian  women  whom  she  found  on  board. 
The  party  sent  with  her  returned  on  board  late  in 
the  night,  without  venturing  to  her  village,  which 
was  far  inland.  Confident  of  the  favorable  im- 
pression which  the  report  given  by  the  woman 
must  produce,  the  admiral  on  the  following  day 
dispatched  nine  stout-hearted,  well-armed  men, 
to  seek  the  village,  accompanied  by  a  native  of 
Cuba  as  an  interpreter.  They  found  it  about 
four  and  a  half  leagues  to  the  south-east,  in  a  fine 
valley,  on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful  river.*  It 
contained  one  thousand  houses,  but  the  inhabi- 
tants fled  as  they  approached.  The  interpreter 
overtook  them,  and  assured  them  of  the  goodness 
of  these  strangers,  who  had  descended  from  the 
skies,  and  went  about  the  world  making  precious 
and  beautiful  presents.  Thus  assured,  the  natives 
ventured  back  to  the  number  of  two  thousand. 
They  approached  the  Spaniards  with  slow  and 
trembling  steps,  often  pausing  and  putting  their 
hands  upon  their  heads,  in  token  of  profound 
reverence  and  submission.  They  were  a  weil- 
iormecl  race,  fairer  and  handsomer  than  the  na- 
tives of  the  other  islands. f  While  the  Spaniards 
were  conversing  with  them  by  means  of  their  in- 
terpreter, another  multitude  approached,  headed 
by  the  husband  of  the  female  captive.  They 
brought  her  in  triumph  on  their  shoulders,  and 
the  husband  was  profuse  in  his  gratitude  for  the 
kindness  with  which  she  had  been  treated,  and 
the  magnificent  presents  which  had  been  bestowed 
upon  her. 

The  Indians  now  conducted  the  Spaniards  to 
their  houses,  and  set  before  them  cassava  bread, 
fish,  roots,  and  fruits  of  various  kinds.  They 
brought  also  great  numbers  ot  domesticated  par- 
rots, and  indeed  offered  freely  whatever  they  pos- 
sessed. The  great  river  flowing  through  this  val- 
ley was  bordered  with  noble  forests,  among  which 
were  palms,  bananas,  and  many  trees  covered 
with  fruit  and  flowers.  The  air  was  mild  as  in 
April  ;  the  birds  sang  all  day  long,  and  some 
were  even  heard  in  the  night.  The  Spaniards 
had  not  learned  as  yet  to  account  for  the  differ- 
ence of  seasons  in  this  opposite  part  of  the  globj  ; 
they  were  astonished  to  hear  the  voice  of  this  sup- 
posed nightingale  singing  in  the  midst  of  Decem- 
ber, and  considered  it  a  proof  that  there  was  no 
winter  in  this  happy  climate.  They  returned  to 
the  ships  enraptured  with  the  beauty  of  the  coun- 


*  This  village  was  formerly  known  by  the  name  of 
Gros  Morne,  situated  on  the  banks  of  the  river  of 
"  Trois  Rivieres,"  which  empties  itself  halt  a  mile 
west  of  Port  de  Paix.  Navarrete,  torn.  i. 

f  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  53,  MS. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


55 


try,  surpassing,  as  they  said,  even  the  luxuriant 
plains  of  Cordova.  All  that  they  complained  of 
was  that  they  saw  no  signs  of  riches  among  the 
natives.  And  here  it  is  impossible  to  refrain  from 
dwelling  on  the  picture  given  by  the  first  discover- 
ers, of  the  state  of  manners  in  this  eventful  island 
before  the  arrival  of  the  white  men.  According 
to  their  accounts,  the  'people  of  Hayti  existed  in 
that  state  of  primitive  and  savage  simplicity  which 
some  philosophers  have  fondly  pictured  as  the 
most  enviable  on  earth  ;  surrounded  by  natural 
blessings,  without  even  a  knowledge  of  artificial 
wants.  The  fertile  earth  produced  the  chief  part 
of  their  food  almost  without  culture  ;  their  rivers 
and  sea-coast  abounded  with  fish,  and  they  caught 
the  utia,  the  guana,  and  a  variety  of  birds.  This, 
to  beings  of  their  frugal  and  temperate  habits, 
was  great  abundance,  and  what  nature  furnished 
thus  spontaneously  they  willingly  shared  with 
all  the  world.  Hospitality,  we  are  told,  was  with 
them  a  law  of  nature  universally  observed  ;  there 
was  no  need  of  being  known  to  receive  its  suc- 
cors ;  every  house  was  as  open  to  the  stranger  as 
his  own.*  Columbus,  too,  in  a  letter  to  Luis  de 
St.  Angel,  observes,  "  True  it  is  that  after  they 
felt  confidence,  and  lost  their  fear  of  us,  they  were 
so  liberal  with  what  they  possessed,  that  it  would 
not  be  believed  by  those  who  had  not  seen  it.  If 
anything  was  asked  of  them,  they  never  said  no, 
but  rather  gave  it  cheerfully,  and  showed  as  much 
amity  as  if  they  gave  their  very  hearts  ;  and 
whether  the  thing  were  of  value,  or  of  little  price, 
they  were  content  with  whatever  was  given  in  re- 
turn. ...  In  all  these  islands  it  appears  to 
me  that  the  men  are  all  content  with  one  wife,  but 
they  give  twenty  to  their  chieftain  or  king.  The 
women  seem  to  work  more  than  the  men  ;  and  I 
have  not  been  able  to  understand  whether  they 
possess  individual  property  ;  but  rather  think  that 
whatever  one  has  all  the  rest  share,  especially  in 
all  articles  of  provisions."  f 

One  of  the  most  pleasing  descriptions  of  the  in- 
habitants of  this  island  is  given  by  old  Peter  Mar- 
tyr, who  gathered  it,  as  he  says,  from  the  conver- 
sations of  the  admiral  himself.  "  It  is  certain," 
says  he,  "  that  the  land  among  these  people  is  as 
common  as  the  sun  and  water  ;  and  that  '  mine 
and  thine,'  the  seeds  of  all  mischief,  have  no  place 
with  them.  They  are  content  with  so  little,  that 
in  so  large  a  country  they  have  rather  superfluity 
than  scarceness  ;  so  that  they  seem  to  live  in  the 
golden  world,  without  toil,  living  in  open  gardens  ; 
not  intrenched  with  dykes,  divided  with  hedges, 
or  defended  with  walls.  They  deal  truly  one  with 
another,  without  laws,  without  books,  and  without 
judges.  They  take  him  for  an  evil  and  mischiev- 
ous man,  who  taketh  pleasure  in  doing  hurt  to 
another  ;  and  albeit  they  delight  not  in  superflui- 
ties, yet  they  make  provision  for  the  increase  of 
such  roots  whereof  they  make  their  bread,  con- 
tented with  such  simple  diet,  whereby  health  is 
preserved  and  disease  avoided."  £ 

Much  of  this  picture  may  be  overcolored  by  the 
imagination,  but  it  is  generally  confirmed  by  con- 
,  temporary  historians.  They  all  concur  in  repre- 
senting the  life  of  these  islanders  as  approaching 
to  the  golden  state  of  poetical  felicity  ;  living 
under  the  absolute  but  patriarchal  and  easy  rule 
of  their  caciques,  free  from  pride,  with  few  wants, 


*  Charlevoix.     Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  i. 

f  Letter  of  Columbus  to  Luis  de  St.  Angel.  Nav- 
arrete,  torn.  i.  p.  167. 

J  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  Transl.  of  Richard 
Eden,  1555. 


an  abundant  country,  a  happily-tempered  climate, 
and  a  natural  disposition  to  careless  and  indolent 
enjoyment. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

COASTING  OF  HISPANIOLA. 
[1492.] 

WHEN  the  weather  became  favorable,  Colum- 
bus made  another  attempt,  on  the  I4th  of  Decem- 
ber, to  find  the  island  of  Babeque,  but  was  again 
baffled  by  adverse  winds.  In  the  course  of  this 
attempt  he  visited  an  island  lying  opposite  to  the 
harbor  of  Conception,  to  which,  from  its  abound- 
ing in  turtle,  he  gave  the  name  of  Tortugas.* 
The  natives  had  fled  to  the  rocks  and  forests,  and 
alarm  fires  blazed  along  the  heights.  The  coun- 
try was  so  beautiful  that  he  gave  to  one  of  the  val- 
leys the  name  of  Valle  de  Paraiso,  or  the  Vale  of 
Paradise,  and  called  a  fine  stream  the  Guadalquiv- 
er,  after  that  renowned  river  which  flows  through 
some  of  the  fairest  provinces  of  Spain. f 

Setting  sail  on  the  i6th  of  December  at  mid- 
night, Columbus  steered  again  for  Hispaniola. 
When  half  way  across  the  gulf  which  separates 
the  islands,  he  perceived  a  canoe  navigated  by  a 
single  Indian,  and,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  was 
astonished  at  his  hardihood  in  venturing  so  far 
from  land  in  so  frail  a  bark,  and  at  his  adroitness 
in  keeping  it  above  water,  as  the  wind  was  fresh, 
and  there  was  some  sea  running.  He  ordered 
both  him  and  his  canoe  to  be  taken  on  board  ;  and 
having  anchored  near  a  village  on  the  coast  of 
Hispaniola,  at  present  known  at  Puerto  de  Paz,  he 
sent  him  on  shore  well  regaled  and  enriched  with 
various  presents. 

In  the  early  intercourse  with  these  people,  kind- 
ness never  seems  to  have  failed  in  its  effect.  The 
favorable  accounts  given  by  this  Indian,  and  by 
those  with  whom  the  Spaniards  had  communi- 
cated in  their  previous  landings,  dispelled  the 
fears  of  the  islanders.  A  friendly  intercourse  soon 
took  place,  and  the  ships  were  visited  by  a 
cacique  of  the  neighborhood.  From  this  chieftain 
and  his  counsellors,  Columbus  had  further  infor- 
mation of  the  island  of  Babeque,  which  was 
described  as  lying  at  no  great  distance.  No  men- 
tion is  afterward  made  of  this  island,  nor  does  it 
appear  that  he  made  any  further  attempt  to  seek 
it.  No  such  island  exists  in  the  ancient  charts, 
and  it  is  probable  that  this  was  one  of  the  numer- 
ous misinterpretations  of  Indian  words,  which  led 
the  first  discoverers  into  so  many  fruitless  re- 
searches. The  people  of  Hispaniola  appeared 
handsomer  to  Columbus  than  any  he  had  yet  met 
with,  and  of  a  gentle  and  peaceable  disposition-. 
Some  of  them  had  ornaments  of  gold,  which  they 
readily  gave  away  or  exchanged  for  any  trifle'. 
The  country  was  finely  diversified  with  lofty 
mountains  and  green  valleys,  which  stretched 
away  inland  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  The 
mountains  were  of  such  easy  ascent  that  the 
highest  of  them  might  be  ploughed  with  oxen,  and 
the  luxuriant  growth  of  the  forests  manifested  the 
fertility  of  the  soil.  The  valleys  were  watered  by 
numerous  clear  and  beautiful  streams  ;  they  ap- 
peared to  be  cultivated  in  many  places,  and  to  be 
fitted  for  grain,  for  orchards,  and  pasturage.  : 


*  This  island  in  after  times  became  the  headquar- 
ters of  the  famous  Buccaneers. 

f  Journal  of  Columbus.  Navarrete,  Colec. ,  torn.  i. 
p.  91. 


56 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES    OF   COLUMBUS. 


While  detained  at  this  harbor  by  contrary 
winds,  Columbus  was  visited  by  a  young  cacique, 
who  came  borne  by  four  men  on  a  sort  of  litter, 
and  attended  by  two  hundred  of  his  subjects. 
The  admiral  being  at  dinner  when  he  arrived,  the 
young  chieftain  ordered  his  followers  to  remain 
without,  and  entering  the  cabin,  took  his  seat 
beside  Columbus,  not  permitting  him  to  rise  or 
use  any  ceremony.  Only  two  old  men  entered  with 
him,  who  appeared  to  be  his  counsellors,  and  who 
seated  themselves  at  his  feet.  If  anything  were 
given  him  to  eat  or  drink,  he  merely  tasted  it, 
and  sent  it  to  his  followers,  maintaining  an  air  of 
great  gravity  and  dignity.  He  spoke  but  little, 
his  two  counsellors  watching  his  lips,  and  catch- 
ing and  communicating  his  ideas.  After  dinner 
he  presented  the  admiral  with  a  belt  curiously 
wrought,  and  two  pieces  of  gold.  Columbus  gave 
him  a  piece  of  cloth,  several  amber  beads,  colored 
shoes,  and  a  flask  of  orange-flower  water  ;  he 
showed  him  a  Spanish  coin,  on  which  were  the 
likenesses  of  the  king  and  queen,  and  endeavored 
to  explain  to  him  the  power  and  grandeur  of  those 
sovereigns  ;  he  displayed  also  the  royal  banners 
and  the  standard  of  the  cross  ;  but  it  was  all  in 
vain  to  attempt  to  convey  any  clear  idea  by  these 
symbols  ;  the  cacique  could  not  be  made  to  be- 
lieve that  there  was  a  region  on  the  earth  which 
produced  these  wonderful  people  and  wonderful 
things  ;  he  joined  in  the  common  idea  that  the 
Spaniards  were  more  than  mortal,  and  that  the 
country  and  sovereigns  they  talked  of  must  exist 
somewhere  in  the  skies. 

In  the  evening  the  cacique  was  sent  on  shore 
in  the  boat  with  great  ceremony,  and  a  salute 
fired  in  honor  of  him.  He  departed  in  the  state 
in  which  he  had  come,  carried  on  a  litter,  accom- 
panied by  a  great  concourse  of  his  subjects  ;  not 
far  behind  him  was  his  son,  borne  and  escorted 
in  like  manner,  and  his  brother  on  foot,  supported 
by  two  attendants.  The  presents  which  he  had 
received  from  the  admiral  were  carried  triumph- 
antly before  him. 

They  procured  but  little  gold  in  this  place, 
though  whatever  ornaments  the  natives  possessed 
they  readily  gave  away.  The  region  of  promise 
lay  still  further  on,  and  one  of  the  old  counsellors 
of  the  cacique  told  Columbus  that  he  would  soon 
arrive  at  islands  rich  in  the  precious  ore.  Before 
leaving  this  place,  the  admiral  caused  a  large 
cross  to  be  erected  in  the  centre  qf  the  village, 
and  from  the  readiness  with  which  the  Indians 
assisted,  and  their  implicit  imitation  of  the  Span- 
iards in  their  acts  of  devotion,  he  inferred  that  it 
would  be  an  easy  matter  to  convert  them  all  to 
Christianity. 

On  the  i  gth  of  December  they  made  sail  before 
daylight,  but  with  an  unfavorable  wind,  and  on 
the  evening  of  the  2oth  they  anchored  in  a  fine 
harbor,  to  which  Columbus  gave  the  name  of  St. 
Thomas,  supposed  to  be  what  at  present  is  called 
the  Bay  of  Acul.  It  was  surrounded  by  a  beauti- 
ful and  well-peopled  country.  The  inhabitants 
came  off,  some  in  canoes,  some  swimming,  bring- 
ing fruits  of  various  unknown  kinds,  of  great  fra- 
grance and  flavor.  These  they  gave  freely  with 
whatever  else  they  possessed,  especially  their 
golden  ornaments,  which  they  saw  were  particu- 
larly coveted  by  the  strangers.  There  was  a  re- 
markable frankness  and  generosity  about  these 
people  ;  they  had  no  idea  of  traffic,  but  gave  away 
everything  with  spontaneous  liberality.  Colum- 
bus would  not  permit  his  people,  however,  to  take 
advantage  of  this  free  disposition,  but  ordered 
that  something  should  always  be  given  in  ex- 


change. Several  of  the  neighboring  caciques  vis» 
ited  the  ships,  bringing  presents,  and  inviting  the 
Spaniards  to  their  villages,  where,  on  going  to 
land,  they  were  most  hospitably  entertained. 

On  the  22d  of  December  a  large  canoe  filled 
with  natives  came  on  a  mission  from  a  grand 
cacique  named  Guacanagari,  who  commanded  all 
that  part  of  the  island.  A  principal  servant  of 
the  chieftain  came  in  the  canoe,  bringing  the  .ad- 
miral a  present  of  a  broad  belt,  wrought  ingeni- 
ously with  colored  beads  and  bones,  and  a  wooden 
mask,  the  eyes,  nose,  and  tongue  of  which  were 
of  gold.  He  delivered  also  a  message  from  the 
cacique,  begging  that  the  ships  might  come  oppo- 
site to  his  residence,  which  was  on  a  part  of  the 
coast  a  little  farther  to  the  eastward.  The  wind 
preventing  an  immediate  compliance  with  this  in- 
vitation, the  admiral  sent  the  notary  of  the  squad- 
ron, with  several  of  the  crew,  to  visit  the  cacique. 
He  resided  in  a  town  situated  on  a  river,  at  what 
they  called  Punta  Santa,  at  present  Grande  Ri- 
viere. It  was  the  largest  and  best  built  town 
they  had  yet  seen.  The  cacique  received  them  in 
a  kind  of  public  square,  which  had  been  swept 
and  prepared  for  the  occasion,  and  treated  them 
with  great  honor,  giving  to  each  a  dress  of  cotton. 
The  inhabitants  crowded  round  them,  bringing 
provisions  and  refreshments  of  various  kinds. 
The  seamen  were  received  into  their  houses  as 
distinguished  guests  ;  they  gave  them  garments 
of  cotton,  and  whatever  else  appeared  to  have 
value  in  their  eyes,  asking  nothing  in  return,  but 
it  anything  were  given  appearing  to  treasure  it  up 
as  a  sacred  relic. 

The  cacique  would  have  detained  them  all 
night,  but  their  orders  obliged  them  to  return. 
On  parting  with  them  he  gave  them  presents  of 
parrots  and  pieces  of  gold  for  the  admiral,  and 
they  were  attended  to  their  boats  by  a  crowd  of 
the  natives,  carrying  the  presents  for  them,  and 
vying  with  each  other  in  rendering  them  service. 

During  their  absence  the  admiral  had  been 
visited  by  a  great  number  of  canoes  and  several 
inferior  caciques  :  all  assured  him  that  the  island 
abounded  with  wealth  ;  they  talked,  especially, 
of  Cibao,  a  region  in  the  interior,  farther  to  the 
east,  the  cacique  of  which,  as  far  as  they  could 
be  understood,  had  banners  of  wrought  gold.  Co- 
lumbus, deceiving  himself  as  usual,  fancied  that 
this  name  Cibao  must  be  a  corruption  of  Cipango, 
and  that  this  chieftain  with  golden  banners  must 
be  identical  with  the  magnificent  prince  of  that 
island,  mentioned  by  Marco  Polo.* 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

SHIPWRECK. 
[1492.] 

ON  the  morning  of  the  24th  of  December  Co- 
lumbus set  sail  from  Port  St.  Thomas  before  sun- 
rise, and  steered  to  the  eastward,  with  an  inten- 
tion of  anchoring  at  the  harbor  of  the  cacique 
Guacanagari.  The  wind  was  from  the  land,  but 
so  light  as  scarcely  to  fill  the  sails,  and  the  ships 
made  but  little  progress.  At  eleven  o'clock  at 
night,  being  Christmas  eve,  they  were  within  a 
league  or  a  league  and  a  half  of  the  residence  of 
the  cacique  ;  and  Columbus,  who  had  hitherto 


*  Journal  of  Columb.  Navarrete,  Colec. ,  torn.  i. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  32.  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  L 
cap.  15,  16. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


kept  watch,  finding  the  sea  calm  and  smooth,  and 
the  ship  almost  motionless,  retired  to  rest,  not 
having  slept  the  preceding  night.  He  was,  in 
general,  extremely  wakeful  on  his  coasting  voy- 
ages, passing  whole  nights  upon  deck  in  all 
weathers  ;  never  trusting  to  the  watchfulness  of 
others,  where  there  was  any  difficulty  or  danger 
to  be  provided  against.  In  the  present  instance 
he  felt  perfectly  secure  ;  not  merely  on  account 
of  the  profound  calm,  but  because  the  boats  on 
the  preceding  day,  in  their  visit  to  the  cacique, 
had  reconnoitred  the  coast,  and  had  reported  that 
there  were  neither  rocks  nor  shoals  in  their  course. 

No  sooner  had  he  retired  than  the  steersman 
gave  the  helm  in  charge  to  one  of  the  ship-boys, 
and  went  to  sleep.  This  was  in  direct  violation 
of  an  invariable  order  of  the  admiral,  that  the 
helm  should  never  be  intrusted  to  the  boys.  The 
rest  of  the  mariners  who  had  the  watch  took  like 
advantage  of  the  absence  of  Columbus,  and  in  a 
little  while  the  whole  crew  was  buried  in  sleep.  In 
the  mean  time  the  treacherous  currents  which  run 
swiftly  along  this  coast  carried  the  vessel  quietly, 
but  with  force,  upon  a  sand-bank.  The  heedless 
boy  had  not  noticed  the  breakers,  although  they 
made  a  roaring  that  might  have  been  heard  a 
league.  No  sooner,  however,  did  he  feel  the  rud- 
der strike,  and  hear  the  tumult  of  the  rushing  sea, 
than  he  began  to  cry  for  aid.  Columbus,  whose 
careful  thoughts  never  permitted  him  to  sleep  pro- 
foundly, was  the  first  on  deck.  The  master  of  the 
ship,  whose  duty  it  was  to  have  been  on  watch, 
next  made  his  appearance,  followed  by  others  of 
the  crew,  half  awake.  The  admiral  ordered  them 
to  take  the  boat  and  carry  out  an  anchor  astern, 
to  warp  the  vessel  off.  The  master  and  the  sailors 
sprang  into  the  boat  ;  but,  confused,  as  men  are 
apt  to  be  when  suddenly  awakened  by  an  alarm, 
instead  of  obeying  the  commands  of  Columbus, 
they  rowed  off  to  the  other  caravel,  about  half  a 
league  to  windward. 

In  the  mean  time  the  master  had  reached  the 
caravel,  and  made  known  the  perilous  state  in 
which  he  had  left  the  vessel.  He  was  reproached 
with  his  pusillanimous  desertion  ;  the  commander 
of  the  caravel  manned  his  boat  and  hastened  to 
the  relief  of  the  admiral,  followed  by  the  recreant 
master,  covered  with  shame  and  confusion. 

It  was  too  late  to  save  the  ship,  the  current  hav- 
ing set  her  more  upon  the  bank.  The  admiral, 
seeing  that  his  boat  had  deserted  him,  that  the 
ship  had  swung  across  the  stream,  and  that  the 
water  was  continually  gaining  upon  her,  ordered 
the  mast  to  be  cut  away,  in  the  hope  of  lightening 
her  sufficiently  to  float  her  off.  Every  effort  was 
in  vain.  The  keel  was  firmly  bedded  in  the  sand  ; 
the  shock  had  opened  several  seams  ,-  while  the 
swell  of  the  breakers,  striking  her  broadside,  left 
her  each  moment  more  and  more  aground,  un- 
til she  fell  over  on  one  side.  Fortunately  the 
weather  continued  calm,  otherwise  the  ship  must 
have  gone  to  pieces,  and  the  whole  crew  might 
have  perished  amid  the  currents  and  breakers. 

The  admiral  and  her  men  took  refuge  on  board 
the  caravel.  Diego  de  Arana,  chief  judge  of  the 
armament,  and  Pedro  Gutierrez,  the  king's  butler, 
were  immediately  sent  on  shore  as  envoys  to  the 
cacique  Guacanagari,  to  inform  him  of  the  intend- 
ed visit  of  the  admiral,  and  of  his  disastrous  ship- 
wreck. In  the  mean  time,  as  a  light  wind  had 
sprung  up  from  shore,  and  the  admiral  was  igno- 
rant of  his  situation,  and  of  the  rocks  and  banks 
that  might  be  lurking  around  him,  he  lay  to  until 
daylight. 

The  habitation    of    the   cacique   was   about  a 


league  and  a  half  from  the  wreck.  When  he 
heard  of  the  misfortune  of  his  guest,  he  mani- 
fested the  utmost  affliction,  and  even  shed  tears. 
He  immediately  sent  all  his  people,  with  all  the 
canoes,  large  and  small,  that  could  be  mustered  ; 
and  so  active  were  they  in  their  assistance,  that 
in  a  little  while  the  vessel  was  unloaded.  The 
cacique  himself,  and  his  brothers  and  relatives, 
rendered  all  the  aid  in  their  power,  both  on  sea 
and  land,  keeping  vigilant  guard  that  everything 
should  be  conducted  with  order,  and  the  property 
secured  from  injury  or  theft.  From  time  to  time 
he  sent  some  one  of  his  family,  or  some  principal 
person  of  his  attendants  to  console  and  cheer  the 
admiral,  assuring  him  that  everything  he  possessed 
should  be  at  his  disposal. 

Never,  in  a  civilized  country,  were  the  vaunted 
rites  of  hospitality  more  scrupulously  observed 
than  by  this  uncultivated  savage.  All  the  effects 
landed  from  the  ships  were  deposited  near  his 
dwelling,  and  an  armed  guard  surrounded  them 
all  night,  until  houses  could  be  prepared  in  which 
to  store  them.  There  seemed,  however,  even 
among  the  common  people,  no  disposition  to  take 
advantage  of  the  misfortune  of  the  stranger.  Al- 
though they  beheld  what  must  in  their  eyes  have 
been  inestimable  treasures,  cast,  as  it  were,  upon 
their  shores,  and  open  to  depredation,  yet  there 
was  not  the  least  attempt  to  pilfer,  nor,  in  trans- 
porting the  effects  from  the  ships,  had  they  appro- 
priated the  most  trifling  article.  On  the  contrary, 
a  general  sympathy  was  visible  in  their  counte- 
nances and  actions  ;  and  to  have  witnessed  their 
concern,  one  would  have  supposed  the  misfortune 
to  have  happened  to  themselves.* 

"  So  loving,  so  tractable,  so  peaceable  are  these 
people,"  says  Columbus  in  his  journal,  "  that  I 
swear  to  your  majesties,  there  is  not  in  the  world 
a  better  nation,  nor  a  better  land.  They  love 
their  neighbors  as  themselves  ;  and  their  dis- 
course is  ever  sweet  and  gentle,  and  accompanied 
with  a  smile  ;  and  though  it  is  true  that  they  are 
naked,  yet  their  manners  are  decorous  and  praise- 
worthy." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

TRANSACTIONS   WITH  THE  NATIVES. 
[1492.] 

ON  the  26th  of  December  Guacanagari  came 
on  board  of  the  caravel  Nifia  to  visit  the  admiral, 
and  observing  him  to  be  very  much  dejected  was 
moved  to  tears.  He  repeated  the  message  which 
he  had  sent,  entreating  Columbus  not  to  be  cast 
clown  by  his  misfortune,  and  offering  everything- 
he  possessed,  that  might  render  him  aid  or  con- 
solation. He  had  already  given  three  houses  to 
shelter  the  Spaniards,  and  to  receive  the  effects 
landed  from  the  wreck,  and  he  offered  to  furnish 
more  if  necessary. 

While  they  were  conversing,  a  canoe  arrived 
from  another  part  of  the  island,  bringing  pieces 
of  gold  to  be  exchanged  for  hawks'  bells.  There 
was  nothing  upon  which  the  natives  set  so  much 
value  as  upon  these  toys.  The  Indians  were  ex- 
travagantly fond  of  the  dance,  which  they  per- 
formed to  the  cadence  of  certain  songs,  accom- 
panied by  the  sound  of  a  kind  of  drum,  made  from 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and  the  rattling  of  hollow  bits 


*  Hist,  del  Almirartte,  cap.  32.     Las  Casas,  lib.  i. 
cap.  9. 


58 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


of  wood  ;  but  when  they  hung  the  hawks'  bells 
about  their  persons,  and  heard  the  clear  musical 
sound  responding  to  the  movements  of  the  dance, 
nothing  could  exceed  their  wild  delight. 

The  sailors  who  came  from  the  shore  informed 
the  admiral  that  considerable  quantities  of  gold 
had  been  brought  to  barter,  and  large  pieces  were 
eagerly  given  tor  the  merest  trifle.  This  informa- 
tion had  a  cheering  effect  upon  Columbus.  The 
attentive  cacique,  perceiving  the  lighting  up  of 
his  countenance,  asked  what  the  sailors  had  com- 
municated. When  he  learned  its  purport,  and 
found  that  the  admiral  was  extremely  desirous  of 
procuring  gold,  he  assured  him  by  signs,  that 
there  was  a  place  not  far  off,  among  the  moun- 
tains, where  it  abounded  to  such  a  degree  as  to 
be  held  in  little  value,  and  promised  to  procure 
him  thence  as  much  as  he  desired.  The  place  to 
which  he  alluded,  and  which  he  called  Cibao,  was 
in  fact  a  mountainous  region  afterward  found  to 
contain  valuable  mines  ;  but  Columbus  still  con- 
founded the  name  with  that  of  Cipango.* 

Guacanagari  dined  on  board  of  the  caravel  with 
the  admiral,  after  which  he  invited  him  to  visit 
his  residence.  Here  he  had  prepared  a  collation, 
as  choice  and  abundant  as  his  simple  means 
afforded,  consisting  of  utias,  or  coneys,  fish,  roots, 
and  various  fruits.  He  did  everything  in  his  power 
to  honor  his  guest,  and  cheer  him  under  his  mis- 
fortune, showing  a  warmth  of  sympathy  yet  deli- 
cacy of  attention,  which  could  not  have  been  ex- 
pected from  his  savage  state.  Indeed  there  was  a 
degree  of  innate  dignity  and  refinement  displayed 
in  his  manners,  that  often  surprised  the  Span- 
iards. He  was  remarkably  nice  and  decorous  in 
his  mode  of  eating,  which  was  slow  and  with 
moderation,  washing  his  hands  when  he  had  fin- 
ished, and  rubbing  them  with  sweet  and  odorifer- 
ous herbs,  which  Columbus  supposed  was  done  to 
preserve  their  delicacy  and  softness.  He  was 
served  with  great  deference  by  his  subjects,  and 
conducted  himself  toward  them  with  a  gracious 
and  prince-like  majesty.  His  whole  deportment,  in 
the  enthusiastic  eyes  of  Columbus,  betokened  the 
inborn  grace  and  dignity  of  lofty  lineage. f 

In  fact,  the  sovereignty  among  the  people  of  this 
island  was  hereditary,  and  they  had  a  simple  but 
sagacious  mode  of  maintaining,  in  some  degree, 
the  verity  of  descent.  On  the  death  of  a  cacique 
without  children,  his  authority  passed  to  those  of 
his  sisters,  in  preference  to  those  of  his  brothers, 
being  considered  most  likely  to  be  of  his  blood  ; 
for  they  observed,  that  a  brother's  reputed  chil- 
dren may  by  accident  have  no  consanguinity  with 
their  uncle  ;  but  those  of  his  sister  must  certainly 
be  the  children  of  their  mother.  The  form  of  gov- 
ernment was  completely  despotic  ;  the  caciques 
had  entire  control  over  the  lives,  the  property, 
and  even  the  religion  of  their  subjects.  They  had 
few  laws,  and  ruled  according  to  their  judgment 
and  their  will  ;  but  they  ruled  mildly,  and  were 
implicitly  and  cheerfully  obeyed.  Throughout 
the  course  of  the  disastrous  history  of  these 
islanders,  after  their  discovery  by  the  Europeans, 
there  are  continual  proofs  of  their  affectionate  and 
devoted  fidelity  to  their  caciques. 

After  the  collation,  Guacanagari  conducted  Co- 
lumbus to  the  beautiful  groves  which  surrounded 
his  residence.  They  were  attended  by  upward  of 
a  thousand  of  the  natives,  all  perfectly  naked,  who 
performed  several  national  games  and  dances, 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon,  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  114. 
•f-  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.   70.  MS.     Primer  Viage  de 
Colon.     Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  114. 


which  Guacanagari  had  ordered,   to  amuse  the 
melancholy  of  his  guest. 

When  the  Indians  had  finished  their  games,  Co- 
lumbus gave  them  an  entertainment  in  return, 
calculated  at  the  same  time  to  impress  them  with 
a  formidable  idea  of  the  military  power  of  the 
Spaniards.  He  sent  on  board  the  caravel  for  a 
Moorish  bow  and  a  quiver  of  arrows,  and  a  Castil- 
ian  who  had  served  in  the  wars  of  Granada,  and 
was  skilful  in  the  use  of  them.  When  the  cacique 
beheld  the  accuracy  with  which  this  man  used  his 
weapons,  he  was  greatly  surprised,  being  himself 
of  an  unwarlike  character,  and  little  accustomed 
to  the  use  of  arms.  He  told  the  admiral  that  the 
Caribs,  who  often  made  descents  upon  his  terri- 
tory, and  carried  off  his  subjects,  were  likewise 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows.  Columbus  assured 
him  of  the  protection  of  the  Castilian  monarchs, 
who  would  destroy  the  Caribs,  for  he  let  him  know 
that  he  had  weapons  far  more  tremendous,  against 
which  there  was  no  defence.  In  proof  of  this, 
he  ordered  a  Lombard  or  heavy  cannon,  and  an 
arquebus,  to  be  discharged. 

On  hearing  the  report  the  Indians  fell  to  the 
ground,  as  though  they  had  been  struck  by  a 
thunderbolt  ;  and  when  they  saw  the  effect  of  the 
ball,  rending  and  shivering  the  trees  like  a  stroke 
of  lightning,  they  were  filled  with  dismay.  Being 
told,  however,  that  the  Spaniards  would  defend 
them  with  these  arms  against  their  dreaded  ene- 
mies' the  Caribs,  their  alarm  was  changed  into 
exultation,  considering  themselves  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  sons  of  heaven,  who  had  come  from 
the  skies  armed  with  thunder  and  lightning. 

The  cacique  now  presented  Columbus  with  a 
mask  carved  of  wood,  with  the  eyes,  ears,  and  vari- 
ous other  parts  of  gold  ;  he  hung  plates  of  the  same 
metal  round  his  neck,  and  placed  a  kind  of  golden 
coronet  upon  his  head.  He  dispensed  presents 
also  among  the  followers  of  the  admiral  ;  acquit- 
ting himself  in  all  things  with  a  munificence  that 
would  have  done  honor  to  an  accomplished  prince 
in  civilized  life. 

Whatever  trifles  Columbus  gave  in  return  were 
regarded  with  reverence  as  celestial  gifts.  The 
Indians,  in  admiring  the  articles  of  European 
manufacture,  continually  repeated  the  word  turey, 
which  in  their  language  signifies  heaven.  They 
pretended  to  distinguish  the  different  qualities  of 
gold  by  the  smell  ;  in  the  same  way,  when  any 
article  of  tin,  of  silver,  or  other  white  metal  was 
given  them,  to  which  they  were  unaccustomed, 
they  smelt  it  and  declared  it  "  turey,"  of  excellent 
quality  ;  giving  in  exchange  pieces  of  the  finest 
gold.  Everything,  in  fact,  from  the  hands  of  the 
Spaniards,  even  a  rusty  piece  of  iron,  an  end  of  a 
strap,  or  a  head  of  a  nail,  had  an  occult  and 
supernatural  value,  and  smelt  of  turey.  Hawks' 
bells,  however,  were  sought  by  them  with  a  mania 
only  equalled  by  that  of  the  Spaniards  for  gold. 
They  could  not  contain  their  ecstasies  at  the 
sound,  dancing  and  playing  a  thousand  antics. 
On  one  occasion  an  Indian  gave  half  a  handful  of 
gold  dust  in  exchange  for  one  of  these  toys,  and 
no  sooner  was  he  in  possession  of  it  than  he 
bounded  away  to  the  woods,  looking  often  behind 
him,  fearing  the  Spaniards  might  repent  of  hav- 
ing parted  so  cheaply  with  such  an  inestimable 
jewel.* 

The  extreme  kindness  of  the  cacique,  the  gen- 
tleness of  his  people,  the  quantities  of  gold  which 
were  daily  brought  to  be  exchanged  for  the  veriest 
trifles,  and  the  information  continually  received  of 

*  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  70,  MS. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


59 


sources  of  wealth  in  the  interior  of  this  island,  all 
contributed  to  console  the  admiral  for  his  misfor- 
tune. 

The  shipwrecked  crew,  also,  became  fascinated 
with  their  easy  and  idle  mode  of  lite.  Exempted 
by  their  simplicity  from  the  cares  and  toils  which 
civilized  man  inflicts  upon  himself  by  his  many 
artificial  wants,  the  existence  of  these  islanders 
seemed  to  the  Spaniards  like  a  pleasant  dream. 
They  disquieted  themselves  about  nothing-.  A  few 
fields,  cultivated  almost  without  labor,  furnished 
the  roots  and  vegetables  which  formed  a  great 
part  of  their  diet.  Their  rivers  and  coasts 
abounded  with  fish  ;  their  trees  were  laden  with 
fruits  of  golden  or  blushing  hue,  and  heightened 
by  a  tropical  sun  to  delicious  flavor  and  fragrance. 
Softened  by  the  indulgence  of  nature,  and  by  a 
voluptuous  climate,  a  great  part  of  their  day  was 
passed  in  indolent  repose,  and  in  the  evenings 
they  danced  in  their  fragrant  groves,  to  their  na- 
tional songs,  or  the  sound  of  their  sylvan  drums. 

Such  was  the  indolent  and  holiday  life  of  these 
simple  people  ;  which,  if  it  had  not  the  great 
scope  of  enjoyment,  nor  the  high-seasoned 
poignancy  of  pleasure  which  attend  civilization, 
was  certainly  destitute  of  most  of  its  artificial 
miseries.  The  venerable  Las  Casas,  speaking  of 
their  perfect  nakedness,  observes,  it  seemed 
almost  as  if  they  were  existing  in  the  state  of 
primeval  innocence  of  our  first  parents,  before 
their  fall  brought  sin  into  the  world.  He  might 
have  added,  that  they  seemed  exempt  likewise 
from  the  penalty  inflicted  on  the  children  of 
Adam,  that  they  should  eat  their  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brow. 

When  the  Spanish  mariners  looked  back  upon 
their  own  toilsome  and  painful  life,  and  reflected 
on  the  cares  and  hardships  that  must  still  be  their 
lot  if  they  returned  to  Europe,  it  is  no  wonder 
that  they  regarded  with  a  wistful  eye  the  easy  and 
idle  existence  of  these  Indians.  Wherever  they 
went  they  met  with  caressing  hospitality.  The 
men  were  simple,  frank,  and  cordial  ;  the  women 
loving  and  compliant,  and  prompt  to  form  those 
connections  which  anchor  the  most  wandering 
heart.  They  saw  gold  glittering-  around  them,  to 
be  had  without  labor,  and  every  enjoyment  to  be 
procured  without  cost.  Captivated  by  these  ad- 
vantages, many  of  the  seamen  represented  to  the 
admiral  the  difficulties  and  sufferings  they  must 
encounter  on  a  return  voyage,  where  so  many 
would  be  crowded  in  a  small  caravel,  and  en- 
treated permission  to  remain  in  the  island. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BUILDING  OF  THE  FORTRESS  OF  LA  NAVIDAD. 
[1492.] 

THE  solicitude  expressed  by  many  of  his  people 
to  be  left  behind,  added  to  the  friendly  and  pa- 
cific character  of  the  natives,  now  suggested  to 
Columbus  the  idea  of  forming  the  germ  of  a  fu- 
ture colony.  The  wreck  of  the  caravel  would  af- 
ford materials  to  construct  a  fortress,  which 
might  be  defended  by  her  guns  and  supplied 
with  her  ammunition  ;  and  he  could  spare  pro- 
visions enough  to  maintain  a  small  garrison  for  a 
year.  The  people  who  thus  remained  on  the 
island  could  explore  it,  and  make  themselves  ac- 
quainted with  its  mines,  and  other  sources  of 

*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.    Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  1 16. 


wealth  ;  they  might,  at  the  same  time,  procure 
by  traffic  a  large  quantity  of  gold  from  the  na- 
tives ;  they  could  learn  their  language,  and  accus- 
tom themselves  to  their  habits  and  manners,  so 
as  to  be  of  great  use  in  future  intercourse.  In 
the  mean  time  the  admiral  could  return  to  Spain, 
report  the  success  of  his  enterprise,  and  bring  out 
reinforcements. 

No  sooner  did  this  idea  break  upon  the  mind 
of  Columbus  than  he  set  about  accomplishing  it 
with  his  accustomed  promptness  and  celerity. 
The  wreck  was  broken  up  and  brought  piecemeal 
to  shore  ;  and  a  site  chosen,  and  preparations 
made  tor  the  erection  of  a  tower.  When  Guacan- 
agariwas  informed  of  the  intention  of  the  admiral 
to  leave  a  part  of  his  men  for  the  defence  of  the 
island  from  the  Caribs,  while  he  returned  to  his 
country  for  more,  he  was  greatly  overjoyed.  His 
subjects  manifested  equal  delight  at  the  idea  of 
retaining  these  wonderful  people  among  them, 
and  at  the  prospect  of  the  future  arrival  of  the 
admiral,  with  ships  freighted  with  hawks'  bells 
and  other  precious  articles.  They  eagerly  lent 
their  assistance  in  building  the  fortress,  little 
dreaming  that  they  were  assisting  to  place  on 
their  necks  the  galling  yoke  of  perpetual  and  toil- 
some slavery. 

The  preparations  for  the  fortress  were  scarcely 
commenced  when  certain  Indians,  arriving  at 
the  harbor,  brought  a  report  that  a  great  vessel, 
like  those  of  the  admiral,  had  anchored  in  a  river 
at  the  eastern  end  of  the  island.  These  tidings, 
for  a  time,  dispelled  a  thousand  uneasy  conjec- 
tures which  had  harassed  the  mind  of  Columbus, 
for  of  course  this  vessel  could  be  no  other  than 
the  Pinta.  He  immediately  procured  a  canoe 
from  Guacanagari,  with  several  Indians  to  navi- 
gate it,  and  dispatched  a  Spaniard  with  a  letter 
to  Pinzon,  couched  in  amicable  terms,  making  no 
complaints  of  his  desertion,  but  urging  him  to 
join  company  immediately. 

After  three  days'  absence  the  canoe  returned. 
The  Spaniard  reported  that  he  had  pursued  the 
coast  for  twenty  leagues,  but  had  neither  seen  nor 
heard  anything  of  the  Pinta  ;  he  considered  the 
report,  therefore,  as  incorrect.  Other  rumors, 
however,  were  immediately  afterward  circulated 
at  the  harbor  of  this  large  vessel  to  the  eastward  ; 
but,  on  investigation,  they  appeared  to  Columbus 
to  be  equally  undeserving  of  credit.  He  relapsed, 
therefore,  into  his  doubts  and  anxieties  in  respect 
to  Pinzon.  Since  the  shipwreck  of  his  vessel,  the 
desertion  of  that  commander  had  become  a  mat- 
ter of  still  more  serious  moment,  and  had  obliged 
him  to  alter  all  his  plans.  Should  the  Pinta  be 
lost,  as  was  very  possible  in  a  voyage  of  such  extent 
and  exposed  to  so  many  uncommon  perils,  there 
would  then  be  but  one  ship  surviving  of  the  three 
which  had  set  sail  from  Palos,  and  that  one  an 
indifferent  sailer.  On  the  precarious  return  of 
that  crazy  bark,  across  an  immense  expanse  of 
ocean,  would  depend  the  ultimate  success  of  the 
expedition.  Should  that  one  likewise  perish, 
every  record  of  this  great  discovery  would  be 
swallowed  up  with  it  ;  the  name  of  Columbus 
would  only  be  remembered  as  that  of  a  mad  ad- 
venturer, who,  despising  the  opinions  of  the  learn- 
ed and  the  counsels  of  the  wise,  had  departed 
into  the  wilds  of  the  ocean  never  to  return  ;  the 
obscurity  of  his  fate,  and  its  imagined  horrors, 
might  deter  all  future  enterprise,  and  thus  the  new 
world  might  remain,  as  heretofore,  unknown  to 
civilized  man.  These  considerations  determined 
Columbus  to  abandon  all  further  prosecution  of 
his  voyage  ;  to  leave  unexplored  the  magnificent 


CO 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


regions  which  were  inviting  him  on  every  hand  ; 
to  give  up  all  hope  for  the  present  of  finding  his 
way  to  the  dominions  of  the  Grand  Khan,  and  to 
lose  no  time  in  returning  to  Spain  and  reporting 
his  discovery. 

While  the  fortress  was  building,  he  continued 
to  receive  every  day  new  proofs  of  the  amity  and 
kindness  of  Guacanagari.  Whenever  he  went  on 
shore  to  superintend  the  works,  he  was  entertain- 
ed in  the  most  hospitable  manner  by  that  chief- 
tain. He  had  the  largest  house  in  the  place  pre- 
pared for  his  reception,  strewed  or  carpeted  with 
palm-leaves,  and  furnished  with  low  stools  of  a 
black  and  shining  wood  that  looked  like  jet. 
When  he  received  the  admiral,  it  was  always  in 
a  style  of  princely  generosity,  hanging  around  his 
neck  some  jewel  of  gold,  or  making  him  some 
present  of  similar  value. 

On  one  occasion,  he  came  to  meet  him  on  his 
landing,  attended  by  five  tributary  caciques,  each 
carrying  a  coronet  of  gold  ;  they  conducted  him 
with  great  deference  to  the  house  already  men- 
tioned, where,  seating  him  in  one  of  the  chairs, 
Guacanagari  took  off  his  own  coronet  of  gold  and 
placed  it  upon  his  head  :  Columbus  in  return  took 
from  his  neck  a  collar  of  fine-colored  beads,  which 
he  put  round  that  of  the  cacique  ;  he  invested  him 
with  his  own  mantle  of  fine  cloth,  gave  him  a  pair 
of  colored  boots,  and  put  on  his  finger  a  large 
silver  ring,  upon  which  metal  the  Indians  set  a 
great  value,  it  not  being  found  in  their  island. 

The  cacique  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to 
procure  a  great  quantity  of  gold  for  the  admiral 
before  his  departure  for  Spain.  The  supplies  thus 
furnished,  and  the  vague  accounts  collected 
through  the  medium  of  signs  and  imperfect  inter- 
pretations, gave  Columbus  magnificent  ideas  of 
the  wealth  in  the  interior  of  this  island.  The 
names  of  caciques,  mountains,  and  provinces, 
were  confused  together  in  his  imagination,  and 
supposed  to  mean  various  places  where  great 
treasure  was  to  be  found  ;  above  all,  the  name  of 
Cibao  continually  occurred,  the  golden  region 
among  the  mountains,  whence  the  natives  pro- 
cured most  of  the  ore  tor  their  ornaments.  In  the 
pimento  or  red  pepper  which  abounded  in  the 
island,  he  fancied  he  found  a  trace  of  oriental 
spices,  and  he  thought  he  had  met  with  speci- 
mens of  rhubarb. 

Passing,  with  his  usual  excitability,  from  a 
state  of  doubt  and  anxiety  to  one  of  sanguine 
anticipation,  he  now  considered  his  shipwreck  as 
a  providential  event  mysteriously  ordained  by 
Heaven  to  work  out  the  success  of  his  enterprise. 
Without  this  seeming  disaster,  he  should  never 
have  remained  to  find  out  the  secret  wealth  of 
the  island,  but  should  merely  have  totiched  at 
various  parts  of  the  coast,  and  passed  on.  As  a 
proof  that  the  particular  hand  of  Providence  was 
exerted  in  it,  he  cites  the  circumstance  of  his  hav- 
ing been  wrecked  in  a  perfect  calm,  without  wind 
or  wave,  and  the  desertion  of  the  pilot  and  mar- 
iners, when  sent  to  carry  out  an  anchor  astern, 
for,  had  they  performed  his  orders,  the  vessel 
would  have  been  hauled  off,  they  would  have 
pursued  their  voyage,  and  the  treasures  of  the 
island  would  have  remained  a  secret.  But  now 
he  looked  forward  to  glorious  fruits  to  be  reaped 
from  this  seeming  evil  ;  "  for  he  hoped,"  he  said, 
"  that  when  he  returned  from  Spain,  he  should 
find  a  ton  of  gold  collected  in  traffic  by  those 
whom  he  had  left  behind,  and  mines  and  spices 
discovered  in  such  quantities  that  the  sovereigns, 
before  three  years,  would  be  able  to  undertake  a 
crusade  for  the  deliverance  of  the  holy  sepulchre  ;' ' 


the  grand  object  to  which  he  had  proposed  that 
they  should  dedicate  the  fruits  of  this  enterprise. 

Such  was  the  visionary,  yet  generous,  enthusi- 
asm of  Columbus,  the  moment  that  prospects  of 
vast  wealth  broke  upon  his  mind.  What  in  some 
spirits  would  have  awakened  a  grasping  and  sor- 
did avidity  to  accumulate,  immediately  filled  his 
imagination  with  plans  of  magnificent  expendi-  i 
ture.  But  how  vain  are  our  attempts  to  interpret 
the  inscrutable  decrees  of  Providence  !  The  ship- 
wreck, which  Columbus  considered  an  act  of  di- 
vine favor,  to  reveal  to  him  the  secrets  of  the 
land,  shackled  and  limited  all  his  after  discov- 
eries. It  linked  his  fortunes,  for  the  remainder 
of  his  life,  to  this  island,  which  was  doomed  to 
be  to  him  a  source  of  cares  and  troubles,  to  in- 
volve him  in  a  thousand  perplexities,  and  to  be- 
cloud his  declining  years  with  humiliation  and 
disappointment. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

REGULATION  OF  THE  FORTRESS  OF  LA  NAVIDAD 
— DEPARTURE  OF  COLUMBUS  FOR  SPAIN. 

So  great  was  the  activity  of  the  Spaniards  in 
the  construction  of  their  fortress,  and  so  ample 
the  assistance  rendered  by  the  natives,  that  in  ten 
days  it  was  sufficiently  complete  for  service.  A 
large  vault  had  been  made,  over  which  was  erect- 
ed a  strong  wooden  tower,  and  the  whole  was 
surrounded  by  a  wide  ditch.  It  was  stored  with 
all  the  ammunition  saved  from  the  wreck,  or  that 
could  be  spared  from  the  caravel  ;  and  the  guns 
being  mounted,  the  whole  had  a  formidable  as- 
pect, sufficient  to  overawe  and  repulse  this  naked 
and  unwarlike  people.  Indeed  Columbus  was  of 
opinion  that  but  little  force  was  necessary  to  sub- 
jugate the  whole  island.  He  considered  a  for- 
tress, and  the  restrictions  of  a  garrison,  more 
requisite  to  keep  the  Spaniards  themselves  in 
order,  and  prevent  their  wandering  about,  and 
committing  acts  of  licentiousness  among  the  na- 
tives. 

The  fortress  being  finished,  he  gave  it,  as  well 
as  the  adjacent  village  and  the  harbor,  the  name 
of  La  Navidad,  or  the  Nativity,  in  memorial  of 
their  having  escaped  from  the  shipwreck  on 
Christmas  day.  Many  volunteered  to  remain  on 
the  island,  from  whom  he  selected  thirty-nine  of 
the  most  able  and  exemplary,  and  among  them  a 
physician,  ship-carpenter,  calker,  cooper,  tailor, 
and  gunner,  all  expert  at  their  several  callings. 
The  command  was  given  to  Diego  de  Arana,  a 
native  of  Cordova,  and  notary  and  alguazil  to  the 
armament,  who  was  to  retain  all  the  powers  vest- 
ed in  him  by  the  Catholic  sovereigns.  In  case  of 
his  death,  Pedro  Gutierrez  was  to  command,  and, 
he  dying,  Rodrigo  de  Escobedo.  The  boat  of  the 
wreck  was  left  with  them,  to  be  used  in  fishing  ; 
a  variety  of  seeds  to  sow,  and  a  large  quantity  of 
articles  for  traffic,  that  they  might  procure  as 
much  gold  as  possible  against  the  admiral's  re- 
turn.* 

As  the  time  drew  nigh  for  his  departure,  Colum- 
bus assembled  those  who  were  to  remain  in  the 
island,  and  made  them  an  earnest  address,  charg- 
ing them,  in  the  name  of  the  sovereigns,  to  be 
obedient  to  the  officer  left  in  command  ;  to  main- 
tain the  utmost  respect  and  reverence  for  the  ca- 
cique Guacanagari  and  his  chieftains,  recollecting 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.    Navarrete,  torn.  i.  Hist, 
del  Almirante,  cap.  33. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


61 


how  deeply  they  were  indebted  to  his  goodness, 
and  how  important  a  continuance  of  it  was  to 
their  welfare.  To  be  circumspect  in  their  inter- 
course with  the  natives,  avoiding  disputes,  and 
treating  them  always  with  gentleness  and  justice  ; 
and,  above  all,  being  discreet  in  their  conduct 
toward  the  Indian  women,  misconduct  in  this 
respect  being  the  frequent  source  of  troubles  and 
disasters  in  the  intercourse  with  savage  nations. 
He  warned  them,  moreover,  not  to  scatter  them- 
selves asunder,  but  to  keep  together,  for  mutual 
safety  ;  and  not  to  stray  beyond  the  friendly  ter- 
ritory of  Guacanagari.  He  enjoined  it  upon 
Arana,  and  the  others  in  command,  to  acquire  a 
knowledge  of  the  productions  and  mines  of  the 
island,  to  procure  gold  and  spices,  and  to  seek 
along  the  coast  a  better  situation  for  a  settlement, 
the  present  harbor  being  inconvenient  and  dan- 
gerous, from  the  rocks  and  shoals  which  beset  its 
entrance. 

On  the  2d  of  January,  1493,  Columbus  landed 
to  take  a  farewell  of  the  generous  cacique  and  his 
chieftains,  intending  the  next  day  to  set  sail.  He 
gave  them  a  parting  feast  at  the  house  devoted  to 
his  use,  and  commended  to  their  kindness  the 
men  who  were  to  remain,  especially  Diego  de 
Arana,  Pedro  Gutierrez,  and  Rodrigo  de  Escobe- 
do,  his  lieutenants,  assuring  the  cacique  that 
when  he  returned  from  Castile  he  would  bring 
abundance  of  jewels  more  precious  than  any  he 
or  his  people  had  yet  seen.  The  worthy  Guacan- 
agari showed  great  concern  at  the  idea  of  his  de- 
parture, and  assured  him  that,  as  to  those  who 
remained,  he  should  furnish  them  with  provi- 
sions, and  render  them  every  service  in  his  power. 

Once  more  to  impress  the  Indians  with  an  idea 
of  the  warlike  prowess  of  the  white  men,  Colum- 
bus caused  the  crews  to  perform  skirmishes  and 
mock-tights,  with  swords,  bucklers,  lances,  cross- 
bows, arquebuses,  and  cannon.  The  Indians 
were  astonished  at  the  keenness  of  the  swords, 
and  at  the  deadly  power  of  the  cross-bows  and 
arquebuses  ;  but  they  were  struck  with  awe  when 
the  heavy  Lombards  were  discharged  from  the 
fortress,  wrapping  it  in  wreaths  of  smoke,  shak- 
ing the  forests  with  their  report,  and  shivering 
the  trees  with  the  balls  of  stone  used  in  artillery 
in  those  times.  As  these  tremendous  powers, 
however,  were  all  to  be  employed  for  their  protec- 
tion, they  rejoiced  while  they  trembled,  since  no 
Carib  would  now  dare  to  invade  their  island.* 

The  festivities  of  the  day  being  over,  Columbus 
embraced  the  cacique  and  his  principal  chieftains, 
and  took  a  final  leave  of  them.  Guacanagari  shed 
tears  ;  tor  while  he  had  been  awed  by  the  digni- 
fied demeanor  of  the  admiral,  and  the  idea  of  his 
superhuman  nature,  he  had  been  completely  won 
by  the  benignity  of  his  manners.  Indeed,  the 
parting  scene  was  sorrowful  on  all  sides.  The 


*  Primer  Viage  de  Colon.  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  121. 


arrival  of  the  ships  had  been  an  event  of  wondef 
and  excitement  to  the  islanders,  who  had  as  yet 
known  nothing  but  the  good  qualities  of  their 
guests,  and  had  been  enriched  by  their  celestial 
gifts  ;  while  the  rude  seamen  had  been  flattered 
by  the  blind  deference  paid  them,  and  captivated 
by  the  kindness  and  unlimited  indulgence  with 
which  they  had  been  treated. 

The  sorest  parting  was  between  the  Spaniards 
who  embarked  and  those  who  remained  behind, 
from  the  strong  sympathy  caused  by  companion- 
ship in  perils  and  adventures.  The  little  garri- 
son, however,  evinced  a  stout  heart,  looking  for- 
ward to  the  return  of  the  admiral  from  Spain  with 
large  reinforcements,  when  they  promised  to  give 
him  a  good  account  of  all  things  in  the  island. 
The  caravel  was  detained  a  day  longer  by  the 
absence  of  some  of  the  Indians  whom  they  were 
to  take  to  Spain.  At  length  the  signal-gun  was 
fired  ;  the  crew  gave  a  parting  cheer  to  the  hand- 
ful of  comrades  thus  left  in  the  wilderness  of  an 
unknown  world,  who  echoed  their  cheering  as 
they  gazed  wistfully  after  them  from  the  beach, 
but  who  were  destined  never  to  welcome  their 
return. 

NOTE  about  the  localities  in  the  preceding  chapter,  ex- 
tracted from  the  letter  of  T.  S.  Heneken,  Esq. 

Guacanagari's  capital  town  was  called  Guarico. 
From  the  best  information  I  can  gather,  it  was  sit- 
uated a  short  distance  from  the  beach,  where  the  vil- 
lage of  Petit  Anse  now  stands  ;  which  is  about  two 
miles  south-east  of  Cape  Haytien. 

Oviedo  says  that  Columbus  took  in  water  for  his 
homeward  voyage  from  a  small  stream  to  the  north- 
west of  the  anchorage  ;  and  presuming  him  to  have 
been  at  anchor  off  Petit  Anse,  this  stream  presents 
itself  falling  from  the  Picolet  mountain,  crossing  the 
present  town  of  Cape  Haytien,  and  emptying  into  the 
bay  near  the  Arsenal. 

The  stream  which  sup  lied  Columbus  with  water 
was  dammed  up  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  by  the 
French  when  in  possession  of  the  country,  and  its 
water  now  feeds  a  number  of  public  fountains. 

Punta  Santa  could  be  no  other  than  the  present 
Point  Picolet. 

Beating  up  from  St.  Nicholas  Mole  along  an  almost 
precipitous  and  iron-bound  coast,  a  prospect  of  un- 
rivalled splendor  breaks  upon  the  view  on  turning 
this  point  ;  the  spacious  bay,  the  extensive  plains, 
and  the  distant  Cordilleras  of  the  Crbao  mountains, 
impose  upon  the  mind  an  impression  of  vastness, 
fertility,  and  beauty. 

The  fort  of  La  Navidad  must  have  been  erected 
near  Haut  du  Cap,  as  it  could  be  approached  in  boats 
by  rowing  up  the  river,  and  there  is  no  other  river  in 
the  vicinity  that  admits  a  passage  for  boats. 

The  locality  of  the  town  of  Guacanagari  has  always 
been  known  by  the  name  of  Guarico.  The  French 
first  settled  at  Petit  Anse  ;  subsequently  they  removed 
to  the  opposite  side  of  the  bay  and  founded  the  town 
of  Cape  Francois,  now  Cape  Haytien  ;  but  the  old 
Indian  name  Guarico  continues  in  use  among  all  the 
Spanish  inhabitants  of  the  vicinity. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


BOOK  V. 


CHAPTER   I. 

COASTING  TOWARD  THE  EASTERN  END  OF  HIS- 
PANIOLA  —  MEETING  WITH  PINZON — AFFAIR 
WITH  THE  NATIVES  AT  THE  GULF  OF  SAMANA. 

[H93-] 

IT  was  on  the  4th  of  January  that  Columbus  set 
sail  from  La  Navidad  on  his  return  to  Spain. 
The  wind  being  light,  it  was  necessary  to  tow  the 
caravel  out  of  the  harbor,  and  clear  of  the  reefs. 
They  then  stood  eastward,  toward  a  lofty  promon- 
tory destitute  of  trees,  but  covered  with  grass, 
and  shaped  like  a  tent,  having  at  a  distance  the 
appearance  of  a  towering  island,  being  connected 
with  Hispaniola  by  a  low  neck  of  land.  To  this 
promontory  Columbus  gave  the  name  of  Monte 
Christi,  by  which  it  is  still  known.  The  country  in 
the  immediate  neighborhood  w*  level,  but  far- 
ther inland  rose  a  high  range  of  mountains,  well 
wooded,  with  broad,  fruitful  valleys  between 
them,  watered  by  abundant  streams.  The  wind 
being  contrary,  they  were  detained  for  two  days 
in  a  large  bay  to  the  west  of  the  promontory.  On 
the  6th  they  again  made  sail  with  a  land  breeze, 
and  weathering  the  cape,  advanced  ten  leagues, 
when  the  wind  again  turned  to  blow  freshly  from 
the  east.  At  this  time  a  sailor,  stationed  at  the 
masthead  to  look  out  for  rocks,  cried  out  that  he 
beheld  the  Pinta  at  a  distance.  The  certainty  of 
the  fact  gladdened  the  heart  of  the  admiral,  and 
had  an  animating  effect  throughout  the  ship  ;  for 
it  was  a  joyful  event  to  the  mariners  once  more 
to  meet  with  their  comrades,  and  to  have  a  com- 
panion bark  in  their  voyage  through  these  lonely 
seas. 

The  Pinta  came  sweeping  toward  them,  directly 
before  the  wind.  The  admiral  was  desirous  of 
having  a  conversation  with  Martin  Alonzo  Pin- 
zon,  and  seeing  that  all  attempt  was  fruitless  from 
the  obstinacy  of  the  adverse  wind,  and  that  there 
was  no  safe  anchorage  in  the  neighborhood,  he 
put  back  to  the  bay  a  little  west  of  Monte  Christi, 
whither  he  was  followed  by  the  Pinta.  On  their 
first  interview,  Pinzon  endeavored  to  excuse  his 
desertion,  alleging  that  he  had  been  compelled  to 
part  company  by  stress  of  weather,  and  had  ever 
since  been  seeking  to  rejoin  the  admiral.  Colum- 
bus listened  passively  but  dubiously  to  his  apolo- 
gies ;  and  the  suspicions  he  had  conceived  ap- 
peared to  be  warranted  by  subsequent  informa- 
tion. He  was  told  that  Pinzon  had  been  excited 
by  accounts  given  him  by  one  of  the  Indians  on 
board  of  his  vessel  of  a  region  to  the  eastward, 
abounding  in  gold.  Taking  advantage,  there- 
fore, of  the  superior  sailing  of  his  vessel,  he  had 
worked  to  windward,  when  the  other  ships  had 
been  obliged  to  put  back,  and  had  sought  to  be 
the  first  to  discover  and  enjoy  this  golden  region. 
After  separating  from  his  companions  he  had  been 
entangled  for  several  days  among  a  cluster  of  small 
islands,  supposed  to  have  been  the  Caicos,  but 
had  at  length  been  guided  by  the  Indians  to  His- 
paniola. Here  he  remained  three  weeks,  trading 
with  the  natives  in  the  river  already  mentioned, 
and  collected  a  considerable  quantity  of  gold,  one 
half  of  which  he  retained  as  captain,  the  rest  he 
divided  among  his  men  to  secure  their  fidelity  and 
secrecy. 


Such  were  the  particulars  privately  related  to 
Columbus  ;  who,  however,  reptessed  his  indigna- 
tion at  this  flagrant  breach  of  duty,  being  unwill- 
ing to  disturb  the  remainder  of  his  voyage  with 
any  altercations  with  Pinzon,  who  had  a  powerful 
party  of  relatives  and  townsmen  in  the  armament. 
To  such  a  degree,  however,  was  his  confidence  in 
his  confederates  impaired,  that  he  determined  to 
return  forthwith  to  Spain,  though,  under  other  cir- 
cumstances, he  would  have  been  tempted  to  ex- 
plore the  coast  in  hopes  of  freighting  his  ships 
with  treasure.* 

The  boats  were  accordingly  dispatched  to  a 
large  river  in  the  neighborhood,  to  procure  a  sup- 
ply of  wood  and  water  for  the  voyage.  This 
river,  called  by  the  natives  the  Yaqui,  flows  from 
the  mountains  of  the  interior  and  throws  itself 
into  the  bay,  receiving  in  its  course  the  contri- 
butions of  various  minor  streams.  Many  parti- 
cles of  gold  were  perceived  among  the  sands  at  its 
mouth,  and  others  were  found  adhering  to  the 
hoops  of  the  water-casks. f  Columbus  gave  it, 
therefore,  the  name  of  Rio  del  Oro,  or  the  Golden 
River  ;  it  is  at  present  called  the  Santiago. 

In  this  neighborhood  were  turtles  of  great  size. 
Columbus  also  mentions  in  his  journal  that  he 
saw  three  mermaids,  which  elevated  themselves 
above  the  surface  of  the  sea,  and  he  observes  that 
he  had  before  seen  such  on  the  coasts  of  Africa. 
He  adds  that  they  were  by  no  means  the  beautiful 
beings  they  had  been  represented,  although  they 
possessed  some  traces  of  the  human  countenance, 
it  is  supposed  that  these  must  have  been  manati 
or  sea-calves,  seen  indistinctly  and  at  a  distance  ; 
and  that  the  imagination  of  Columbus,  disposed  to 
give  a  wonderful  character  to  everything  in  this 
new  world,  had  identified  these  misshapen  animals 
with  the  sirens  of  ancient  story. 

On  the  evening  ot  the  gth  of  January  they  again 

I  made  sail,  and  on  the  following  day  arrived  at  the 

i  river  where   Pinzon  had   been   trading,  to   which 

Columbus  gave  the  name  ot  Rio  de  Gracia  ;  but 

it  took  the  appellation  of  its  original  discoverer, 

and   long  continued  to  be  known  as  the  river  of 

j  Martin  Alonzo. J     The  natives  of  this  place  com- 

!  plained   that  Pinzon,   on   his  previous  visit,   had 

i  violently  carried  off  four  men  and  two  girls.     The 

admiral,  finding  they  were   retained   on  board  of 

l  the  Pinta  to  be  carried  to  Spain  and  sold  as  slaves, 

j  ordered  them  to  be  immediately  restored  to  their 

)  homes,  with  many  presents,  and  well  clothed,  to 

atone  for  the  wrong  they  had  experienced.     This 

;  restitution    was    made  with  great  unwillingness 

I  and  many  high  words  on  the  part  of  Pinzon. 

The  wind  being  favorable,  for  in  these  regions 
i  the  trade  wind  is  often  alternated  during  autumn 
j  and  winter  by  north-westerly  breezes,  they  contin- 
|  ued  coasting  the  island  until  they  came  to  a  high 
j  and  beautiful  headland,  to  which  they  gave  the 
j  name  of  Capo  del  Enamorado,  or  the  Lovers' 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  34. 

f  Las  Casas  suggests  that  these  may  have  been 
particles  of  marcasite,  which  abounds  in  this  river, 
and  in  the  other  streams  which  fall  from  the  moun- 
tains of  Cibao.  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  76. 

\  It  is  now  called  Porto  Caballo,  but  the  surround- 
ing plain  is  called  the  Savanna  of  Martin  Alonzo. — T. 
S.  HENEKEN. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


63 


Cape,  but  which  at  present  is  known  as  Cape  Ca- 
bron.  A  little  beyond  this  they  anchored  in  a 
bay,  or  rather  gulf,  three  leagues  in  breadth,  and 
extending  so  far  inland  that  Columbus  at  first 
supposed  it  an  arm  of  the  sea,  separating  Hispani- 
ola  from  some  other  land.  On  landing  they  found 
the  natives  quite  different  from  the  gentle  and  pa- 
cific people  hitherto  met  with  on  this  island. 
They  were  of  a  ferocious  aspect,  and  hideously 
painted.  Their  hair  was  long,  tied  behind,  and 
decorated  with  the  feathers  of  parrots  and  other 
birds  of  gaudy  plumage.  Some  were  armed  with 
war-clubs  ;  others  had  bows  of  the  length  of  those 
used  by  the  English  archers,  with  arrows  of 
slender  reeds,  pointed  with  hard  wood,  or  tipped 
with  bone  or  the  tooth  of  a  fish.  Their  swords 
were  of  palm-wood,  as  hard  and  heavy  as  iron  ; 
not  sharp,  but  broad,  nearly  of  the  thickness  of 
two  fingers,  and  capable,  with  one  blow,  of  cleav- 
ing through  a  helmet  to  the  very  brains.*  Though 
thus  prepared  for  combat,  they  made  no  attempt 
to  molest  the  Spaniards  ;  on  the  contrary,  they 
sold  them  two  of  their  bows  and  several  of  their 
arrows,  and  one  of  them  was  prevailed  upon  to 
go  on  board  of  the  admiral's  ship. 

Columbus  was  persuaded,  from  the  ferocious 
looks  and  hardy,  undaunted  manner  of  this  wild 
warrior,  that  he  and  his  companions  were  of  the 
nation  of  Caribs,  so  much  dreaded  throughout 
these  seas,  and  that  the  gulf  in  which  he  was  an- 
chored must  be  a  strait  separating  their  island 
from  Hispaniola.  On  inquiring  of  the  Indian,  how- 
ever, he  still  pointed  to  the  east  as  the  quarter 
where  lay  the  Caribbean  Islands.  He  spoke  also 
of  an  island,  called  Mantinino,  which  Columbus 
fancied  him  to  say  was  peopled  merely  by  women, 
who  received  the  Caribs  among  them  once  a  year, 
for  the  sake  of  continuing  the  population  of  their 
island.  All  the  male  progeny  resulting  from 
such  visits  were  delivered  to  the  fathers  ;  the  fe- 
male remained  with  the  mothers. 

This  Amazonian  island  is  repeatedly  mentioned 
in  the  course  of  the  voyages  of  Columbus,  and  is 
another  of  his  self-delusions,  to  be  explained  by 
the  work  of  Marco  Polo.  That  traveller  described 
two  islands  near  the  coast  of  Asia,  one  inhabited 
solely  by  women,  the  other  by  men,  between 
v/hich  a  similar  intercourse  subsisted;!  and  Co- 
lumbus, supposing  himself  in  that  vicinity,  easily 
interpreted  the  signs  of  the  Indians  to  coincide 
with  the  descriptions  of  the  Venetian. 

Having:  regaled  the  warrior,  and  made  him  va- 
rious presents,  the  admiral  sent  him  on  shore,  in 
hopes,  through  his  mediation,  of  opening  a  trade 
for  gold  with  his  companions.  As  the  boat  ap- 
proached the  land,  upwaid  of  fifty  savages,  armed 
with  bows  and  arrows,  war-clubs,  and  javelins, 
were  seen  lurking  among  the  trees.  On  a  word 
from  the  Indian  who  was  in  the  boat,  they  laid  by 
their  arms  and  came  forth  to  meet  the  Spaniards. 
The  latter,  according  to  directions  from  the  ad- 
miral, endeavored  to  purchase  several  of  their 
weapons,  to  take  as  curiosities  to  Spain.  They 
parted  with  two  of  their  bows  ;  but,  suddenly  con- 
ceiving some  distrust,  or  thinking  to  overpower 
this  handful  of  strangers,  they  rushed  to  the  place 
where  they  had  left  their  weapons,  snatched  them 
up,  and  returned  with  cords,  as  if  to  bind  the 
Spaniards.  The  latter  immediately  attacked 
them,  wounded  two,  put  the  rest  to  flight,  and 
would  have  pursued  them,  but  were  restrained  by 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  77,  MS. 

f  Marco   Polo,  book  iii.   chap.   34  ;    Eng.   edit,  of 

Marsden. 


the  pilot  who  commanded  the  boat.  This  was 
the  first  contest  with  the  Indians,  and  the  first  time 
that  native  blood  was  shed  by  the  white  men  in 
the  new  world.  Columbus  was  grieved  to  see  all 
his  exertions  to  maintain  an  amicable  intercourse 
vain  ;  he  consoled  himself  with  the  idea,  however, 
that  if  these  were  Caribs,  or  frontier  Indians  of 
warlike  character,  they  would  be  inspired  with  a 
dread  of  the  force  and  weapons  of  the  white  men, 
and  be  deterred  from  molesting  the  little  garrison 
of  Fort  Nativity.  The  fact  was,  that  these  were 
of  a  bold  and  hardy  race,  inhabiting  a  mountain- 
ous district  called  Ciguay,  extending  five  and 
twenty  leagues  along  the  coast,  and  several 
leagues  into  the  interior.  They  differed  in  lan- 
guage, look,  and  manners  from  the  other  natives  of 
the  island,  and  had  the  rude  but  independent  and 
vigorous  character  of  mountaineers. 

Their  frank  and  bold  spirit  was  evinced  on  the 
day  after  the  skirmish,  when  a  multitude  appear- 
ing on  the  beach,  the  admiral  sent  a  large  party, 
well  armed,  onshore  in  the  boat.  The  natives  ap- 
proached as  freely  and  confidently  as  if  nothing 
had  happened  ;  neither  did  they  betray,  through- 
out their  subsequent  intercourse,  any  signs  of 
lurking  fear  or  enmity.  The  cacique  who  ruled 
over  the  neighboring  country  was  on  the  shore. 
He  sent  to  the  boat  a  string  of  beads  formed  of 
small  stones,  or  rather  of  the  hard  part  of  shells, 
which  the  Spaniards  understood  to  be  a  token  and 
assurance  of  amity  ;  but  they  were  not  yet  aware 
of  the  full  meaning  of  this  symbol,  the  wampum 
belt,  the  pledge  of  peace,  held  sacred  among  the 
Indians.  The  chieftain  followed  shortly  after,  and 
entering  the  boat  with  only  three  attendants,  was 
conveyed  on  board  of  the  caravel. 

This  frank  and  confiding  conduct,  so  indicative 
of  a  brave  and  generous  nature,  was  properly  ap- 
preciated by  Columbus  ;  he  received  the  cacique 
cordially,  set  before  him  a  collation  such  as  the 
caravel  afforded,  particularly  biscuits  and  honey, 
which  were  great  dainties  with  the  Indians,  and" 
after  showing  him  the  wonders  of  the  vessel,  and 
making  him  and  his  attendants  many  presents, 
sent  them  to  land  highly  gratified.  The  residence 
of  the  cacique  was  at  such  a  distance  that  he  could 
not  repeat  his  visit  ;  but,  as  a  token  of  high  re- 
gard, he  sent  to  the  admiral  his  coronet  of  gold. 
In  speaking  of  these  incidents,  the  historians  of 
Columbus  have  made  no  mention  of  the  name  of 
this  mountain  chief  ;  he  was  doubtless  the  same 
who,  a  few  years  afterward,  appears  in  the  history 
of  the  island  under  the  name  of  Mayonabex,  ca- 
cique of  the  Ciguayans,  and  will  be  found  acquit- 
ting himself  with  valor,  frankness,  and  magnanim- 
ity, under  the  most  trying  circumstances. 

Columbus  remained  a  day  or  two  longer  in  the 
bay,  during  which  time  the  most  friendly  inter- 
course prevailed  with  the  natives,  who  brought 
cotton,  and  various  fruits  and  vegetables,  but  still 
maintained  their  warrior  character,  being  always 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows.  Four  young  In- 
dians gave  such  interesting  accounts  of  the  islands 
situated  to  the  east  that  Columbus  determined  to 
touch  there  on  his  way  to  Spain,  and  prevailed  on 
them  to  accompany  him  as  guides.  Taking  ad- 
vantage of  a  favorable  wind,  therefore,  he  sailed 
before  daylight  on  the  i6th  of  January  from  this 
bay,  to  which,  in  consequence  of  the  skirmish 
with  the  natives,  he  gave  the  name  of  Golfo  de  las 
Flechas,  or  the  Gulf  of  Arrows,  but  which  is  now 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Gulf  of  Samana. 

On  leaving  the  bay,  Columbus  at  first  steered  to 
the  north-east,  in  which  direction  the  young  Indians 
assured  him  he  would  find  the  island  of  the  Ca- 


64 


LIFE    AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ribs,  and  that  of  Mantinino,  the  abode  of  the  Ama- 
zons ;  it  being  his  desire  to  take  several  of  the  na- 
tives of  each,  to  present  to  the  Spanish  sovereigns. 
After  sailing  about  sixteen  leagues,  however,  his 
Indian  guides  changed  their  opinion,  and  pointed 
to  the  south-east.  This  would  have  brought  him 
to  Porto  Rico,  which,  in  fact,  was  known  among 
the  Indians  as  the  island  of  Carib.  The  admiral 
immediately  shifted  sail,  and  stood  in  this  direc- 
tion. He  had  not  proceeded  two  leagues,  how- 
ever, when  a  most  favorable  breeze  sprang  up  for 
the  voyage  to  Spain.  He  observed  a  gloom  gath- 
ering on  the  countenances  of  the  sailors,  as  they 
diverged  from  the  homeward  route.  Reflecting 
upon  the  little  hold  he  had  upon  the  feelings  and 
affections  of  these  men,  the  insubordinate  spirit 
they  had  repeatedly  evinced,  the  uncertainty  of 
the  good  faith  of  Pinzon,  and  the  leaky  condition 
of  his  ships,  he  was  suddenly  brought  to  a  pause. 
As  long  as  he  protracted  his  return,  the  whole  fate 
of  his  discovery  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  thousand 
contingencies,  and  an  adverse  accident  might  bury 
himself,  his  crazy  barks,  and  all  the  records  of  his 
voyage  forever  in  the  ocean.  Repressing,  there- 
fore, the  strong  inclination  to  seek  further  discov- 
eries, and  determined  to  place  what  he  had  al- 
ready made  beyond  the  reach  of  accident,  he  once 
more  shifted  sail,  to  the  great  joy  of  his  crews,  and 
resumed  his  course  for  Spain.* 


CHAPTER  II. 

RETURN  VOYAGE — VIOLENT   STORMS — ARRIVAL 
AT  THE  AZORES. 

LH93-] 

THE  trade-winds  which  had  been  so  propitious 
to  Columbus  on  his  outward  voyage,  were  equally 
adverse  to  him  on  his  return.  The  favorable 
breeze  soon  died  away,  and  throughout  the  re- 
mainder of  January  there  was  a  prevalence  of 
light  winds  from  the  eastward,  which  prevented 
any  great  progress.  He  was  frequently  detained 
also  by  the  bad  sailing  of  the  Pinta,  the  foremast 
of  which  was  so  defective  that  it  could  carry  but 
little  sail.  The  weather  continued  mild  and  pleas- 
ant, and  the  sea  so  calm,  that  the  Indians  whom 
they  were  taking  to  Spain  would  frequently  plunge 
into  the  water  and  swim  about  the  ships.  They 
saw  many  tunny  fish,  one  of  which  they  killed,  as 
likewise  a  large  shark  ;  these  gave  them  a  tem- 
porary supply  of  provisions,  of  which  they  soon 
began  to  stand  in  need,  their  sea  stock  being  re- 
duced to  bread  and  wine  and  Agi  peppers,  which 
last  they  had  learnt  from  the  Indians  to  use  as  an 
important  article  of  food. 

In  the  early  part  of  February,  having  run  to 
about  the  thirty-eighth  degree  of  north  latitude, 
and  got  out  of  the  track  swept  by  the  trade-winds, 
they  had  more  favorable  breezes,  and  were  ena- 
bled to  steer  direct  for  Spain.  From  the  frequent 
changes  of  their  course,  the  pilots  became  perplex- 
ed in  their  reckonings,  differing  widely  among 
themselves,  and  still  more  widely  from  the  truth. 
Columbus,  besides  keeping  a  careful  reckoning, 
was  a  vigilant  observer  of  those  indications  fur- 
nished by  the  sea,  the  air,  and  the  sky  ;  the  fate  of 
himself  and  his  ships  in  the  unknown  regions 


*  Journal  of  Columb.  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  Las 
Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  77.  Hist,  del  Al- 
mirante,  cap.  34,  35. 


which  he  traversed  often  depended  upon  these  ob- 
servations ;  and  the  sagacity  at  which  he  arrived, 
in  deciphering  the  signs  of  the  elements,  was  look- 
ed upon  by  the  common  seamen  as  something  al- 
most supernatural.  In  the  present  instance,  he  no- 
ticed where  the  great  bands  of  Moating  weeds  com- 
menced, and  where  they  finished  ;  and  in  emerg- 
ing from  among  them,  concluded  himself  to  be  in 
about  the  same  degree  of  longitude  as  when  he  en- 
countered them  on  his  outward  voyage  ;  that  is 
to  say,  about  two  hundred  and  sixty  leagues  west 
of  Ferro.  On  the  loth  of  February,  Vicente  Ya- 
fies  Pinzon,  and  the  pilots  Ruiz  and  Bartolomeo 
Roldan,  who  were  on  board  of  the  admiral's  ship, 
examined  the  charts  and  compared  their  reckon- 
ings to  determine  their  situation,  but  could  not 
come  to  any  agreement.  They  all  supposed  them- 
selves at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  leagues  nearer 
Spain  than  what  Columbus  believed  to  be  the  true 
reckoning,  and  in  the  latitude  of  Madeira,  where- 
as he  knew  them  to  be  nearly  in  a  direction  for 
the  Azores.  He  suffered  them,  however,  to  re- 
main in  their  error,  and  even  added  to  their  per- 
plexity, that  they  might  retain  but  a  confused  idea 
of  the  voyage,  and  he  alone  possess  a  clear  knowl- 
edge of  the  route  to  the  newly-discovered  coun- 
tries.* 

On  the  1 2th  of  February,  as  they  were  flattering 
themselves  with  soon  coming  in  sight  of  land,  the 
wind  came  on  to  blow  violently,  with  a  heavy  sea  ; 
they  still  kept  their  course  to  the  east,  but  with 
great  labor  and  peril.  On  the  following  day,  after 
sunset,  the  wind  and  swell  increased  ;  there  were 
three  flashes  of  lightning  in  the  north-north-east, 
considered  by  Columbus  as  signals  of  an  ap- 
proaching tempest.  It  soon  burst  upon  them 
with  frightful  violence  ;  their  small  and  crazy  ves- 
sels, open  and  without  decks,  were  little  fitted  for 
the  wild  storms  of  the  Atlantic  ;  all  night  they 
were  obliged  to  scud  under  bare  poles.  As  the 
morning  dawned  of  the  I4th,  there  was  a  tran- 
sient pause,  and  they  made  a  little  sail  ;  but  the 
wind  rose  again  from  the  south  with  redoubled 
vehemence,  raging  throughout  the  day,  and  in- 
creasing in  fury  in  the  night  ;  while  the  vessels 
labored  terribly  in  a  cross  sea,  the  broken  waves 
of  which  threatened  at  each  moment  to  overwhelm 
them  or  dash  them  to  pieces.  For  three  hours 
they  lay  to,  with  just  sail  enough  to  keep  them 
above  the  waves  ;  but  the  tempest  still  augment- 
ing, they  were  obliged  again  to  scud  before  the 
wind.  The  Pinta  was  soon  lost  sight  of  in  the 
darkness  of  the  night.  The  admiral  kept  as  much 
as  possible  to  the  north-east,  to  approach  the  coast 
of  Spain,  and  made  signal  lights  at  the  masthead 
for  the  Pinta  to  do  the  same,  and  to  keep  in  com- 
pany. The  latter,  however,  from  the  weakness  of 
her  foremast,  could  not  hold  the  wind,  and  was 
obliged  to  scud  before  it  directly  north.  For 
some  time  she  replied  to  the  signals  of  the  ad- 
miral, but  her  lights  gleamed  more  and  more 
distant,  until  they  ceased  entirely,  and  nothing 
more  was  seen  of  her. 

Columbus  continued  to  scud  all  night,  full  of 
forebodings  of  the  fate  of  his  own  vessel,  -and  of 
fears  for  the  safety  of  that  of  Pinzon.  As  the  day 
dawned,  the  sea  presented  a  frightful  waste  of 
wild  broken  waves,  lashed  into  fury  by  the  gale  ; 
he  looked  round  anxiously  for  the  Pinta,  but  she 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  He  now  made  a  little  sail, 
to  keep  his  vessel  ahead  of  the  sea,  lest  its  huge 
waves  should  break  over  her.  As  the  sun  rose,  the 
wind  and  the  waves  rose  with  it,  and  throughout  a 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  70. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


65 


dreary  day  the  helpless  bark  was  driven  along  by 
the  fury  of  the  tempest. 

Seeing  all  human  skill  baffled  and  confounded, 
Columbus  endeavored  to  propitiate  heaven  by  sol- 
emn vows  and  acts  of  penance.  By  his  orders,  a 
number  of  beans,  equal  to  the  number  of  persons 
on  -board,  were  put  into  a  cap,  on  one  of  which 
was  cut  the  sign  of  the  cross.  Each  of  the  crew 
made  a  vow  that  should  he  draw  forth  the  marked 
bean  he  would  make  a  pilgrimage  to  the  shrine 
of  Santa  Maria  de  Guadalupe,  bearing  a  wax  taper 
of  five  pounds'  weight.  The  admiral  was  the  first 
to  put  in  his  hand,  and  the  lot  fell  upon  him. 
From  that  moment  he  considered  himself  a  pil- 
grim, bound  to  perform  the  vow.  Another  lot 
was  cast  in  the  same  way,  for  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
chapel  of  our  Lady  of  Loretto,  which  fell  upon  a 
seaman  named  Pedro  de  Villa,  and  the  admiral 
engaged  to  bear  the  expenses  of  his  journey.  A 
third  lot  was  also  cast  for  a  pilgrimage  to  Santa 
Clara  de  Moguer,  to  perform  a  solemn  mass,  and 
to  watch  all  night  in  the  chapel,  and  this  likewise 
fell  upon  Columbus. 

The  tempest  still  raging  with  unabated  violence, 
the  admiral  and  all  the  mariners  made  a  vow, 
that,  if  spared,  wherever  they  first  landed,  they 
would  go  in  procession  barefooted  and  in  their 
shirts,  to  offer  up  prayers  and  thanksgivings  in 
some  church  dedicated  to  the  Holy  Virgin.  Be- 
sides these  general  acts  of  propitiation,  each  one 
made  his  private  vow,  binding  himself  to  some 
pilgrimage,  or  vigil,  or  other  rite  of  penitence  and 
thanksgiving  at  his  favorite  shrine.  The  heavens, 
however,  seemed  deaf  to  their  vows  ;  the  storm 
grew  still  more  wild  and  frightful,  and  each  man 
gave  himself  up  for  lost.  The  danger  of  the  ship 
was  augmented  by  the  want  of  ballast,  the  con- 
sumption of  the  water  and  provisions  having 
lightened  her  so  much  that  she  rolled  and  tossed 
about  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves.  To  remedy  this, 
and  to  render  her  more  steady,  the  admiral  order- 
ed that  all  the  empty  casks  should  be  filled  with 
sea-water,  which  in  some  measure  gave  relief. 

During  this  long  and  awful  conflict  of  the  ele- 
ments, the  mind  of  Columbus  was  a  prey  to  the 
most  distressing  anxiety.  He  feared  that  the  Pin- 
ta  had  foundered  in  the  storm.  In  such  case  the 
whole  history  of  his  discovery,  the  secret  of  the 
New  World,  depended  upon  his  own  feeble  bark, 
and  one  surge  of  the  ocean  might  bury  it  forever 
in  oblivion.  The  tumult  of  his  thoughts  may  be 
judged  from  his  own  letter  to  the  sovereigns.  "  I 
could  have  supported  this  evil  fortune  with  less 
grief,"  said  he,  "  had  my  person  alone  been  in 
jeopardy,  since  I  am  a  debtor  for  my  li'fe  to  the 
supreme  Creator,  and  have  at  other  times  been 
within  a  step  of  death.  But  it  was  a  cause  of  in- 
finite sorrow  and  trouble  to  think  that,  after  hav- 
ing been  illuminated  from  on  high  with  faith  and 
certainty  to  undertake  this  enterprise,  after  hav- 
ing victoriously  achieved  it,  and  when  on  the  point 
ot  convincing  my  opponents,  and  securing  to  your 
highnesses  great  glory  and  vast  increase  of  do- 
minions, it  should  please  the  divine  Majesty  to 
defeat  all  by  my  death.  It  would  have  been  more 
supportable  also,  had  I  not  been  accompanied  by 
others  who  had  been  drawn  on  by  my  persuasions, 
and  who,  in  their  distress,  cursed  not  only  the 
hour  of  their  coming,  but  the  fear  inspired  by  my 
words  which  prevented  their  turning  back,  as  they 
had  at  various  times  determined.  Above  all,  my 
grief  was  doubled  when  I  thought  of  my  two  sons, 
whom  I  hacl  left  at  school  in  Cordova,  destitute, 
in  a  strange  land,  without  any  testimony  of  the 
services  rendered  by  their  father,  which,  if 


known,  might  have  inclined  your  highnesses  to 
befriend  them.  And  although,  on  the  one  hand, 
I  was  comforted  by  faith  that  the  Deity  would  not 
permit  a  work  of  such  great  exaltation  to  his 
church,  wrought  through  so  many  troubles  and 
contradictions,  to  remain  imperfect  ;  yet,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  reflected  on  my  sins,  as  a  punish- 
ment for  which  he  might  intend  that  I  should  be 
deprived  of  the  glory  which  would  redound  to  me 
in  this  world."* 

In  the  midst  of  these  gloomy  apprehensions,  an 
expedient  suggested  itself,  by  which,  though  he 
and  his  ships  should  perish,  the  glory  of  his 
achievement  might  survive  to  his  name,  and  its 
advantages  be  secured  to  his  sovereigns.  He 
wrote  on  parchment  a  brief  account  of  his  voyage 
and  discovery,  and  of  his  having  taken  possession 
of  the  newly-found  lands  in  the  name  of  their 
Catholic  majesties.  This  he  sealed  and  directed 
to  the  king  and  queen  ;  superscribing  a  promise 
of  a  thousand  ducats  to  whomsoever  should  de- 
liver the  packet  unopened.  He  then  wrapped  it 
in  a  waxed  cloth,  which  he  placed  in  the  centre  of 
a  cake  of  wax,  and  inclosing  the  whole  in  a  large 
barrel,  threw  it  into  thesea.givinghis  men  to  sup- 
pose he  was  performing  some  religious  vow. 
Lest  this  memorial  should  never  reach  the  land, 
he  inclosed  a  copy  in  a  similar  manner,  and 
placed  it  upon  the  poop,  so  that,  should  the  cara- 
vel be  swallowed  up  by  the  waves,  the  barrel  might 
float  off  and  survive. 

These  precautions  in  some  measure  mitigated 
his  anxiety,  and  he  was  still  more  relieved  when, 
after  heavy  showers,  there  appeared  at  sunset  a 
streak  of  clear  sky  in  the  west,  giving  hopes  that 
the  wind  was  about  to  shift  to  that  quarter. 
These  hopes  were  confirmed  ;  a  favorable  breeze 
succeeded,  but  the  sea  still  ran  so  high  and  tu- 
multuously  that  little  sail  could  be  carried  during 
the  night. 

•  On  the  morning  of  the  I5th,  at  daybreak,  the  cry 
of  land  was  given  by  Rui  Garcia,  a  mariner  in  the 
maintop.  The  transports  of  the  crew,  at  once 
more  gaining  sight  of  the  Old  World,  were  almost 
equal  to  those  experienced  on  first  beholding  the 
New.  The  land  bore  east-north-east,  directly  over 
the  prow  of  the  caravel  ;  and  the  usual  diversity 
of  opinion  concerning  it  arose  among  the  pilots. 
One  thought  it  the  island  of  Madeira  ;  another  the 
rock  of  Cintra  near  Lisbon  ;  the  most  part,  de- 
ceived by  their  ardent  wishes,  placed  it  near 
Spain.  Columbus,  however,  from  his  private 
reckonings  and  observations,  concluded  it  to  be 
one  of  the  Azores.  A  nearer  approach  proved  it 
to  be  an  island  ;  it  was  but  five  leagues  distant, 
and  the  voyagers  were  congratulating  themselves 
upon  the  assurance  of  speedily  being  in  port, 
when  the  wind  veered  again  to  the  east-north-east, 
blowing  directly  irom  the  land,  while  a  heavy  sea 
kept  rolling  from  the  west. 

For  two  days  they  hovered  in  sight  of  the 
island,  vainly  striving  to  reach  it,  or  to  arrive  at 
another  island  of  which  they  caught  glimpses  oc- 
casionally through  the  mist  and  rack  of  the  tem- 
pest. On  the  evening  of  the  I7th  they  approach- 
ed so  near  the  first  island  as  to  cast  anchor,  but 
parting  their  cable,  had  to  put  to  sea  again,  where 
they  remained  beating  about  until  the  following 
morning,  when  they  anchored  under  shelter  of  its 
northern  side.  For  several  days  Columbus  had 
been  in  such  a  state  of  agitation  and  anxiety  as 
scarcely  to  take  food  or  repose.  Although  suffer- 
ing greatly  from  a  gouty  affection  to  which  he 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  36. 


60 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


was  subject,  yet  he  had  maintained  his  watchful 
post  on  deck,  exposed  to  wintry  cold,  to  the  pelt- 
ing of  the  storm,  and  the  drenching  surges  of  the 
sea.  It  was  not  until  the  night  of  the  I7th  that  he 
got  a  little  sleep,  more  from  the  exhaustion  of  na- 
ture than  from  any  tranquillity  of  mind.  Such 
were  the  difficulties  and  perils  which  attended  his 
return  to  Europe  ;  had  one  tenth  part  of  them  be- 
set his  outward  voyage,  his  timid  and  factious 
crew  would  have  risen  in  arms  against  the  enter- 
prise, and  he  never  would  have  discovered  the 
New  World. 


CHAPTER   III. 
TRANSACTIONS  AT  THE  ISLAND  OF  ST.    MARY'S. 

[I493-] 

ON  sending  the  boat  to  land,  Columbus  ascer- 
tained the  island  to  be  St.  Mary's,  the  most 
southern  of  the  Azores,  and  a  possession  of  the 
crown  of  Portugal.  The  inhabitants,  when  they 
beheld  the  light  caravel  riding  at  anchor,  were 
astonished  that  it  had  been  able  to  live  through 
the  gale,  which  had  raged  for  fifteen  clays  with  un- 
exampled fury  ;  but  when  they  heard  from  the 
boat's  crew  that  this  tempest-tossed  vessel  brought 
tidings  of  a  strange  country  beyond  the  ocean, 
they  were  filled  with  wonder  and  curiosity.  To 
the  inquiries  about  a  place  where  the  caravel 
might  anchor  securely,  they  replied  by  pointing 
out  a  harbor  in  the  vicinity,  but  prevailed  on 
three  of  the  mariners  to  remain  on  shore,  and 
gratify  them  with  further  particulars  of  this  un- 
paralleled voyage. 

In  the  evening  three  men  of  the  island  hailed 
the  caravel,  and  a  boat  being  sent  for  them,  they 
brought  on  board  fowls,  bread,  and  various  refresh- 
ments, from  Juan  de  Castafieda,  governor  of  the 
island,  who  claimed  an  acquaintance  with  Colum- 
bus, and  sent  him  many  compliments  and  con- 
gratulations. He  apologized  for  not  coming  in 
person,  owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the 
distance  of  his  residence,  but  promised  to  visit  the 
caravel  the  next  morning,  bringing  further  refresh- 
ments, and  the  three  men,  whom  he  still  kept  with 
him  to  satisfy  his  extreme  curiosity  respecting  the 
voyage.  As  there  were  no  houses  on  the  neigh- 
boring shore,  the  messengers  remained  on  board 
all  night. 

On  the  following  morning  Columbus  reminded 
his  people  of  their  vow  to  perform  a  pious  proces- 
sion at  the  first  place  where  they  should  land.  On 
the  neighboring  shore,  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  sea,  was  a  small  hermitage  or  chapel  dedicated 
to  the  Virgin,  and  he  made  immediate  arrange- 
ments for  the  performance  of  the  rite.  The  three 
messengers,  on  returning  to  the  village,  sent  a 
priest  to  perform  mass,  and  one  half  of  the  crew 
landing,  walked  in  procession,  barefooted,  and  in 
their  shirts,  to  the  chapel  ;  while  the  admiral 
awaited  their  return,  to  perform  the  same  cere- 
mony with  the  remainder. 

An  ungenerous  reception,  however,  awaited  the 
poor  tempest-tossed  mariners  on  their  first  return 
to  the  abode  of  civilized  men,  far  different  from  the 
sympathy  and  hospitality  they  had  experienced 
among  the  savages  of  the  New  World.  Scarcely 
had  they  begun  their  prayers  and  thanksgivings, 
when  the  rabble  of  the  village,  horse  and  foot, 
headed  by  the  governor,  surrounded  the  hermitage 
and  took  them  all  prisoners. 

As  an  intervening  point  of  land  hid  the  hermit- 


age from  the  view  of  the  caravel,  the  admiral  re- 
mained in  ignorance  of  this  transaction.  When 
eleven  o'clock  arrived  without  the  return  of  the 
pilgrims,  he  began  to  fear  that  they  were  detained 
by  the  Portuguese,  or  that  the  boat  had  been  shat- 
tered upon  the  surf-beaten  rocks  which  bordered 
the  island.  Weighing  anchor,  therefore,  he  stood 
in  a  direction  to  command  a  view  of  the  chapel 
and  the  adjacent  shore  ;  whence  he  beheld  a  num- 
ber of  armed  horsemen,  who,  dismounting,  en- 
tered the  boat  and  made  for  the  caravel.  The  ad- 
miral's ancient  suspicions  of  Portuguese  hostility 
toward  himself  and  his  enterprizes  were  immedi- 
ately revived,  and  he  ordered  his  men  to  arm 
themselves,  but  to  keep  out  of  sight,  ready  either 
to  defend  the  vessel  or  surprise  the  boat.  The 
latter,  however,  approached  in  a  pacific  manner  ; 
the  governor  of  the  island  was  on  board,  and,  com- 
ing within  hail,  demanded  assurance  of  personal 
safety  in  case  he  should  enter  the  caravel.  This 
the  admiral  readily  gave,  but  the  Portuguese  still 
continued  at  a  wary  distance.  The  indignation  of 
Columbus  now  broke  forth  ;  he  reproached  the 
governor  with  his  perfidy,  and  with  the  wrong  he 
did,  not  merely  to  the  Spanish  monarchs,  but  to 
his  own  sovereign,  by  such  a  dishonorable  out- 
rage. He  informed  him  of  his  own  rank  and  dig- 
nity ;  displayed  his  letters  patent,  sealed  with  the 
royal  seal  of  Castile,  and  threatened  him  with  the 
vengeance  of  his  government.  Castafieda  replied 
in  a  vein  of  contempt  and  defiance,  declaring  that 
all  he  had  done  was  in  conformity  to  the  com- 
mands of  the  king  his  sovereign. 

After  an  unprofitable  altercation,  the  boat  re- 
turned to  shore,  leaving  Columbus  much  perplexed 
by  thus  unexpected  hostility,  and  fearful  that  a 
war  might  have  broken  out  between  Spain  and 
Portugal  during  his  absence.  The  next  day  the 
weather  became  so  tempestuous  that  they  were 
driven  from  their  anchorage,  and  obliged  to  stand 
to  sea  toward  the  island  of  St.  Michael.  For  two 
days  the  ship  continued  beating  about  in  great 
peril,  half  of  her  crew  being  detained  on  shore, 
and  the  greater  part  of  those  on  board  being 
landsmen  and  Indians,  almost  equally  useless  in 
difficult  navigation.  Fortunately,  although  the 
waves  ran  high,  there  were  none  of  those  cross 
seas  which  had  recently  prevailed,  otherwise,  being 
so  feebly  manned,  the  caravel  could  scarcely  have 
lived  through  the  storm. 

On  the  evening  of  the  22d,  the  weather  having 
moderated,  Columbus  returned  to  his  anchorage 
at  St.  Mary's.  Shortly  after  his  arrival,  a  boat 
came  off,  bringing  two  priests  and  a  notary. 
After  a  cautious  parley  and  an  assurance  of  safety, 
they  came  on  board,  and  requested  a  sight  of  the 
papers  of  Columbus,  on  the  part  of  Castafieda,  as- 
suring him  that  it  was  the  disposition  of  the  gov- 
ernor to  render  him  every  service  in  his  power, 
provided  he  really  sailed  in  service  of  the  Spanish 
sovereigns.  Columbus  supposed  it  a  manoeuvre 
of  Castafieda  to  cover  a  retreat  from  the  hostile 
position  he  had  assumed  ;  restraining  his  indigna- 
tion, however,  and  expressing  his  thanks  for  the 
friendly  disposition  of  the  governor,  he  showed 
his  letters  of  commission,  which  satisfied  the 
priests  and  the  notary.  On  the  following  morn- 
ing the  boat  and  mariners  were  liberated.  The 
latter,  during  their  detention,  had  collected  infor- 
mation from  the  inhabitants  which  elucidated  the 
conduct  of  Castafieda. 

The  King  of  Portugal,  jealous  lest  the  expedition 
of  Columbus  might  interfere  with  his  own  dis- 
coveries, had  sent  orders  to  his  commanders  of 
islands  and  distant  ports  to  seize  and  detain  him 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS, 


C7 


wherever  he  should  be  met  with.*  In  compliance 
with  these  orders,  Castafieda  had,  in  the  first  in- 
stance, hoped  to  surprise  Columbus  in  the  chapel, 
and,  failing  in  that  attempt,  had  intended  to  get 
him  in  his  power  by  stratagem,  but  was  deterred 
by  finding  him  on  his  guard.  Such  was  the  first 
reception  of  the  admiral  on  his  return  to  the  Old 
World,  an  earnest  ot  the  crosses  and  troubles  with 
which  he  was  to  be  requited  throughout  life,  for 
one  of  the  greatest  benefits  that  ever  man  con- 
ferred upon  his  fellow-beings. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

ARRIVAL  AT    PORTUGAL — VISIT    TO    THE  COURT. 

[H93-] 

COLUMBUS  remained  two  days  longer  at  the 
island  of  St.  Mary's,  endeavoring  to  take  in  wood 
and  ballast,  but  was  prevented  by  the  heavy  surf 
which  broke  upon  the  shore.  The  wind  veering 
to  the  south,  and  being  dangerous  for  vessels  at 
anchor  off  the  island,  but  favorable  for  the  voyage 
to  Spain,  he  set  sail  on  the  24th  of  February,  and 
had  pleasant  weather  until  the  27th,  when,  being 
within  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  leagues  of 
Cane  St.  Vincent,  he  again  encountered  contrary 
gales  and  a  boisterous  sea.  His  fortitude  was 
scarcely  proof  against  these  perils  and  delays, 
which  appeared  to  increase,  the  nearer  he  ap- 
proached his  home  ;  and  he  could  not  help  utter- 
ing a  complaint  at  thus  being  repulsed,  as  it  were, 
"  from  the  very  door  of  the  house."  He  contrast- 
ed the  rude  storms  which  raged  about  the  coasts 
of  the  old  world,  with  the  genial  airs,  the  tranquil 
seas,  and  balmy  weather  which  he  supposed  per- 
petually to  prevail  about  the  countries  he  had 
discovered.  "  Well,"  says  he,  "  may  the  sacred 
theologians  and  sage  philosophers  declare  that  the 
terrestrial  paradise  is  in  the  uttermost  extremity 
of  the  East,  for  it  is  the  most  temperate  of  re- 
gions." 

After  experiencing  several  days  of  stormy  and 
adverse  weather,  about  midnight  on  Saturday,  the 
2d  of  March,  the  caravel  was  struck  by  a  squall  of 
wind  which  rent  all  her  sails,  and,  continuing  to 
blow  with  resistless  violence,  obliged  her  to  scud 
under  bare  poles,  threatening  her  each  moment 
with  destruction.  In  this  hour  of  darkness  and 
peril,  the  crew  again  called  upon  the  aid  of  Heaven. 
A  lot  was  cast  for  the  performance  of  a  barefooted 
pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  Santa  Maria  de  la 
Cueva  in  Huelva,  and,  as  usual,  the  lot  fell  upon  Co- 
lumbus. There  was  something  singular  in  the 
recurrence  of  this  circumstance.  Las  Casas  de- 
voutly considers  it  as  an  intimation  from  the  Deity 
to  the  admiral  that  these  storms  were  all  on  his 
account,  to  humble  his  pride,  and  prevent  his  ar- 
rogating to  himself  the  glory  of  a  discovery  which 
was  the  work  of  God,  and  for  which  he  had  merely 
been  chosen  as  an  instrument. f 

Various  signs  appeared  of  the  vicinity  of  land, 
which  they  supposed  must  be  the  coast  of  Portu- 
gal ;  the  tempest,  however,  increased  to  such  a 
degree  that  they  doubted  whether  any  of  them 
would  survive  to  reach  a  port.  The  whole  crew 
made  a  vow,  in  case  their  lives  were  spared,  to 
fast  upon  bread  and  water  the  following  Saturday. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  39.     Las  Casas,  Hist. 
Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  72. 

\  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  73. 


The  turbulence  of  the  elements  was  still  greater 
in  the  course  of  the  following  night.  The  sea  was 
broken,  wild,  and  mountainous  ;  at  one  moment 
the  light  caravel  was  tossed  high  in  the  air,  and 
the  next  moment  seemed  sinking  in  a  yawning 
abyss.  The  rain  at  times  tell  in  torrents,  and 
the  lightning  flashed  and  thunder  pealed  from 
various  parts  of  the  heavens. 

In  the  first  watch  of  this  fearful  night  the  sea- 
men gave  the  usually  welcome  cry  of  land,  but  it 
now  only  increased  the  general  alarm.  They 
knew  not  where  they  were,  nor  where  to  look  for 
a  harbor  ;  they  dreaded  being  driven  on  shore,  or 
dashed  upon  rocks  ;  and  thus  the  very  land  they 
had  so  earnestly  desired  was  a  terror  to  them. 
Taking  in  sail,  therefore,  they  kept  to  sea  as  much 
as  possible,  and  waited  anxiously  for  the  morning 
light. 

At  daybreak  on  the  4th  of  March  they  found 
themselves  off  the  rock  of  Cintra,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Tagus.  Though  entertaining  a  strong  distrust 
of  the  good-will  of  Portugal,  the  still  prevailing 
tempest  left  Columbus  no  alternative  but  to  run 
in  tor  shelter  ;  he  accordingly  anchored,  about 
three  o'clock,  opposite  to  Rastello,  to  the  great 
joy  of  the  crew,  who  returned  thanks  to  God  for 
their  escape  from  so  many  perils. 

The  inhabitants  came  off  from  various  parts  of 
the  shore,  congratulating  them  upon  what  they 
considered  a  miraculous  preservation.  They  had 
been  watching  the  vessel  the  whole  morning  with 
great  anxiety,  and  putting  up  prayers  for  her  safe- 
ty. The  oldest  mariners  of  the  place  assured  Co- 
lumbus they  had  never  known  so  tempestuous  a 
winter  ;  many  vessels  had  remained  for  months  in 
port,  weather-bound,  and  there  had  been  numer- 
ous shipwrecks. 

Immediately  on  his  arrival  Columbus  dis- 
patched a  courier  to  the  King  and  Queen  of  Spain, 
with  tidings  of  his  discovery.  He  wrote  also  to 
the  King  of  Portugal,  then  at  Valparaiso,  request- 
ing permission  to  go  with  his  vessel  to  Lisbon  ; 
for  a  report  had  gone  abroad  that  his  caravel  was 
laden  with  gold,  and  he  felt  insecure  in  the  mouth 
of  the  Tagus,  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  place  like 
Rastello,  scantily  peopled  by  needy  and  adventur- 
ous inhabitants.  To  prevent  any  misunderstand- 
ing as  to  the  nature  of  his  voyage,  he  assured  the 
king  that  he  had  not  been  on  the  coast  of  Guinea, 
nor  to  any  other  ot  the  Portuguese  colonies,  but 
had  come  from  Cipango,  and  the  extremity  of 
India,  which  he  had  discovered  by  sailing  to  the 
west. 

On  the  following  day,  Don  Alonzo  de  Acufia, 
the  captain  of  a  large  Portuguese  man-of-war 
stationed  at  Rastello,  summoned  Columbus  on 
board  his  ship,  to  give  an  account  of  himself  and 
his  vessel.  The  latter  asserted  his  rights  and 
dignities  as  admiral  of  the  Castilian  sovereigns, 
and  refused  to  leave  his  vessel,  or  to  send  any  one 
in  his  place.  No  sooner,  however,  did  the  com- 
mander learn  his  rank,  and  the  extraordinary 
nature  of  his  voyage,  than  he  came  to  the  caravel 
with  great  sound  of  drums,  fifes,  and  trumpets, 
manifesting  the  courtesy  of  a  brave  and  gener- 
ous spirit,  and  making  the  fullest  offer  of  his  ser- 
vices. 

When  the  tidings  reached  Lisbon  of  this  won- 
derful bark,  anchored  in  the  Tagus,  freighted  with 
the  people  and  productions  ot  a  newly-discovered 
world,  the  effect  may  be  more  easily  conceived 
than  described.  Lisbon,  for  nearly  a  century,  had 
derived  its  chief  glory  from  its  maritime  discov- 
eries, but  here  was  an  achievement  that  eclipsed 
them  all.  Curiosity  could  scarcely  have  been 


68 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


more  excited  had  the  vessel  come  freighted  with 
the  wonders  of  another  planet.  For  several  days 
the  Tagus  presented  a  gay  and  moving  picture, 
covered  with  barges  and  boats  of  every  kind, 
swarming  round  the  caravel.  From  morning  till 
night  the  vessel  was  thronged  with  visitors, 
among  whom  were  cavaliers  of  high  distinction, 
and  various  officers  of  the  crown.  All  hung  with 
rapt  attention  upon  the  accounts  given  by  Co- 
lumbus and  his  crew,  of  the  events  of  their  voy- 
age, and  of  the  New  World  they  had  discovered  ; 
and  gazed  with  insatiable  curiosity  upon  the  speci- 
mens of  unknown  plants  and  animals,  but  above 
all  upon  the  Indians,  so  different  from  any  race  of 
men  hitherto  known.  Some  were  filled  with  gen- 
erous enthusiasm  at  the  idea  of  a  discovery,  so 
sublime  and  so  beneficial  to  mankind  ;  the  avarice 
of  others  was  inflamed  by  the  description  of  wild, 
unappropriated  regions  teeming  with  gold,  with 
pearls  and  spices  ;  while  others  repined  at  the  in- 
credulity of  the  king  and  his  councillors,  by  which 
so  immense  an  acquisition  had  been  forever  lost 
to  Portugal. 

On  the  8th  of  March  a  cavalier,  called  Don 
Martin  de  Norofia,  came  with  a  letter  from  King 
John,  congratulating  Columbus  on  his  arrival,  and 
inviting  him  to  the  court,  which  was  then  at  Val- 
pariso,  about  nine  leagues  from  Lisbon.  The 
king,  with  his  usual  magnificence,  issued  orders 
at  the  same  time  that  everything  which  the  ad- 
miral required  for  himself,  his  crew,  or  his  vessel, 
should  be  furnished  promptly  and  abundantly, 
without  cost. 

Columbus  would  gladly  have  declined  the  royal 
invitation,  feeling  distrust  of  the  good  faith  of  the 
king  ;  but  tempestuous  weather  had  placed  him  in 
his  power,  and  he  thought  it  prudent  to  avoid  all 
appearance  of  suspicion.  He  set  forth,  therefore, 
that  very  evening  for  Valpariso  accompanied  by 
his  pilot.  The  first  night  he  slept  at  Sacamben, 
where  preparations  had  been  made  for  his  honor- 
able entertainment.  The  weather  being  rainy,  he 
did  not  reach  Valpariso  until  the  following  night. 
On  approaching  the  royal  residence,  the  principal 
cavaliers  of  the  king's  household  came  forth  to 
meet  him,  and  attended  him  with  great  ceremony 
to  the  palace.  His  reception  by  the  monarch  was 
worthy  of  an  enlightened  prince.  He  ordered  him 
to  seat  himself  in  his  presence,  an  honor  only 
granted  to  persons  of  royal  dignity  ;  and  after 
many  congratulations  on  the  result  of  his  enter- 
prise, assured  him  that  everything  in  his  kingdom 
that  could  be  of  service  to  his  sovereigns  or  him- 
self was  at  his  command. 

A  long  conversation  ensued,  in  which  Colum- 
bus gave  an  account  of  his  voyage,  and  of  the 
countries  he  had  discovered.  The  king  listened 
with  much  seeming  pleasure,  but  with  secret  grief 
and  mortification  ;  reflecting  that  this  splendid  en- 
terprise had  once  been  offered  to  himself,  and  had 
been  rejected.  A  casual  observation  showed  what 
was  passing  in  his  thoughts.  He  expressed  a 
doubt  whether  the  discovery  did  not  really  apper- 
tain to  the  crown  of  Portugal,  according  to  the 
capitulations  of  the  treaty  of  1479  with  the  Castil- 
ian  sovereigns.  Columbus  replied  that  he  had 
never  seen  those  capitulations,  nor  knew  anything 
of  their  nature  ;  his  orders  had  been  not  to  go  to 
La  Mina,  nor  the  coast  of  Guinea,  which  orders  he 
had  carefully  observed.  The  king  made  a  gra- 
cious reply,  expressing  himself  satisfied  that  he 
had  acted  correctly,  and  persuaded  that  these  mat- 
ters would  be  readily  adjusted  between  the  two 
powers,  without  the  need  of  umpires.  On  dismiss- 
ing Columbus  for  the  night,  he  gave  him  in 


charge  as  guest  to  the  prior  of  Crato,  the  principal 
personage  present,  by  whom  he  was  honorably 
and  hospitably  entertained. 

On  the  following  day  the  king  made  many  mi- 
nute inquiries  as  to  the  soil,  productions,  and  peo- 
ple of  the  newly-discovered  countries,  and  the 
route  taken  in  the  voyage  ;  to  all  which  Columbus 
gave  the  fullest  replies,  endeavoring  to  show  in 
the  clearest  manner  that  these  were  regions  here- 
tofore undiscovered  and  unappropriated  by  any 
Christian  power.  Still  the  king  was  uneasy  lest  this 
vast  and  undefined  discovery  should  in  some  way 
interfere  with  his  own  newly-acquired  territories. 
He  doubted  whether  Columbus  had  not  found  a 
short  way  to  those  very  countries  which  were  the 
object  of  his  own  expeditions,  and  which  were 
comprehended  in  the  papal  bull,  granting  to  the 
crown  of  Portugal  all  the  lands  which  it  should 
discover  from  Cape  Non  to  the  Indies. 

On  suggesting  these  doubts  to  his  councillors, 
they  eagerly  confirmed  them.  Some  of  these 
were  the  very  persons  who  had  once  derided  this 
enterprise,  and  scoffed  at  Columbus  as  a  dreamer. 
To  them  its  success  was  a  source  of  confusion  ; 
and  the  return  of  Columbus,  covered  with  glory, 
a  deep  humiliation.  Incapable  of  conceiving  the 
high  and  generous  thoughts  which  elevated  him 
at  that  moment  above  all  mean  considerations, 
they  attributed  to  all  his  actions  the  most  petty 
and  ignoble  motives.  His  rational  exultation  was 
construed  into  an  insulting  triumph,  and  they  ac- 
cused him  of  assuming  a  boastful  and  vainglorious 
tone,  when  talking  with  the  king  of  his  discovery  ; 
as  if  he  would  revenge  himself  upon  the  monarch 
for  having  rejected  his  propositions.*  With  the 
greatest  eagerness,  therefore,  they  sought  to  fos- 
ter the  doubts  which  had  sprung  up  in  the  royal 
mind.  Some  who  had  seen  the  natives  brought  in 
the  caravel,  declared  that  their  color,  hair,  and 
manners  agreed  with  the  descriptions  of  the  peo- 
ple of  that  part  of  India  which  lay  within  the  route 
of  the  Portuguese  discoveries,  and  which  had  been 
included  in  the  papal  bull.  Others  observed  that 
there  was  but  little  distance  between  the  Tercera 
Islands  and  those  which  Columbus  had  discov- 
ered, and  that  the  latter,  therefore,  clearly  apper- 
tained to  Portugal.  Seeing  the  king  much  per- 
turbed in  spirit,  some  even  went  so  tar  as  to  pro- 
pose, as  a  means  of  impeding  the  prosecution  of 
these  enterprises,  that  Columbus  should  be  assas- 
sinated ;  declaring  that  he  deserved  death  for  at- 
tempting to  deceive  and  embroil  the  two  nations 
by  his  pretended  discoveries.  It  was  suggested 
that  his  assassination  might  easily  be  accom- 
plished without  incurring  any  odium  ;  advantage 
might  be  taken  of  his  lofty  deportment  to  pique 
his  pride,  provoke  him  into  an  altercation,  and 
then  dispatch  him  as  if  in  casual  and  honorable 
encounter. 

It  is  difficult  to  believe  that  such  wicked  and 
dastardly  counsel  could  have  been  proposed  to  a 
monarch  so  upright  as  John  II.,  but  the  fact  is 
asserted  by  various  historians,  Portuguese  as  well 


*  Vasconcelos,  Vida  de  D.  Juan  II.,  lib.  vi.  The 
Portuguese  historians  in  general  charge  Columbus 
with  having  conducted  himself  loftily,  and  talked  in 
vaunting  terms  of  his  discoveries,  in  his  .conversations 
with  the  king.  It  is  evident  their  information  must 
have  been  derived  from  prejudiced  courtiers.  Faria 
y  Souza,  in  his  "  Europa  Portuguesa"  (Parte  iii.  cap, 
4),  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  Columbus  entered  into 
the  port  of  Rastello  merely  to  make  Portugal  sensible, 
by  the  sight  of  the  trophies  of  his  discovery,  how 
much  she  had  lost  by  not  accepting  his  propositions. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


CO 


as  Spanish,*  and  it  accords  with  the  perfidious 
advice  formerly  given  to  the  monarch  in  respect 
to  Columbus.  There  is  a  spurious  loyalty  about 
courts,  which  is  often  prone  to  prove  its  zeal  by  its 
baseness  ;  and  it  is  the  weakness  of  kings  to  toler- 
ate the  grossest  faults  when  they  appear  to  arise 
from  personal  devotion. 

Happily,  the  king  had  too  much  magnanimity  to 
adopt  the  iniquitous  measure  proposed.  He  did 
justice  to  the  great  merit  of  Columbus,  and  hon- 
ored him  as  a  distinguished  benefactor  of  man- 
kind ;  and  he  felt  it  his  duty,  as  a  generous 
prince,  to  protect  all  strangers  driven  by  adverse 
fortune  to  his  ports.  Others  of  his  council  sug- 
gested a  more  bold  and  martial  line  of  policy. 
They  advised  that  Columbus  should  be  permitted 
to  return  to  Spain  ;  but  that,  before  he  could  fit 
out  a  second  expedition,  a  powerful  armament 
should  be  dispatched,  under  the  guidance  of  two 
Portuguese  mariners  who  had  sailed  with  the  ad- 
miral, to  take  possession  of  the  newly-discovered 
country  ;  possession  being  after  all  the  best  title, 
and  an  appeal  to  arms  the  clearest  mode  of  set- 
tling so  doubtful  a  question. 

This  counsel,  in  which  there  was  a  mixture 
of  courage  and  craft,  was  more  relished  by  the 
king,  and  he  resolved  privately,  but  promptly, 
to  put  it  in  execution,  fixing  upon  Don  Fran- 
cisco de  Almeida,  one  of  the  most  distinguish- 
ed captains  of  the  age,  to  command  the  expedi- 
tion.! 

In  the  mean  time  Columbus,  after  being  treated 
with  distinguished  attention,  was  escorted  back  to 
his  ship  by  Don  Martin  de  Norofla,  and  a  numer- 
ous train  of  cavaliers  of  the  court,  a  mule  being 
provided  for  himself,  and  another  for  his  pilot,  to 
whom  the  king  made  a  present  of  twenty  espa- 
dinas,  or  ducats  of  gold.J  On  his  way  Columbus 
stopped  at  the  monastery  of  San  Antonio,  at  Vil- 
la Franca,  to  visit  the  queen,  who  had  expressed 
an  earnest  wish  to  see  this  extraordinary  and  en- 
terprising man,  whose  achievement  was  the  theme 
of  every  tongue.  He  found  her  attended  by  a  few 
of  her  favorite  ladies,  and  experienced  the  most 
flattering  reception.  Her  majesty  made  him  re- 
late the  principal  events  of  his  voyage,  and  de- 
scribe the  countries  he  had  found  ;  and  she  and 
her  ladies  hung  with  eager  curiosity  upon  his  nar- 
ration. That  night  he  slept  at  Llandra,  and  being 
on  the  point  of  departing  in  the  morning  a  ser- 
vant of  the  king  arrived,  to  attend  him  to  the  fron- 
tier, if  he  preferred  to  return  to  Spain  by  land, 
and  to  provide  horses,  lodgings,  and  everything 
he  might  stand  in  need  of,  at  the  royal  expense. 
The  weather,  however,  having  moderated,  he 
preferred  returning  in  his  caravel.  Putting  to 
sea,  therefore,  on  the  I3th  of  March,  he  arrived 
safely  at  the  bar  of  Saltes  on  sunrise  of  the  1 5th, 
and  at  mid-day  entered  the  harbor  of  Palos  ; 
whence  he  had  sailed  on  the  3d  of  August  in  the 
preceding  year,  having  taken  not  quite  seven 
months  and  a  half  to  accomplish  this  most  mo- 
mentous of  all  maritime  enterprises. \ 


*  Vasconcelos,  Vida  del  Rei,  Don  Juan  II..  lib.  vi. 
Garcia  de  Resende,  vida  do  Dom  Joam  II.  Las 
Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  74,  MS. 

f  Vasconcelos,  lib.  vi. 

\  Twenty  eight  dollars  in  gold  of  the  present  day, 
and  equivalent  to  seventy-four  dollars,  considering  the 
depreciation  of  the  precious  metals. 

J$  Works  generally  consulted  in  this  chapter  :  Las 
Casas,  Hist.  Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  17  ;  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  39,  40,  41  ;  Journal  of  Columb.  Navarrete, 
torn.  i. 


CHAPTER   V. 
RECEPTION  OF    COLUMBUS  AT  PALOS. 

[H93-] 

THE  triumphant  return  of  Columbus  was  a  pro- 
digious event  in  the  history  of  the  little  port  of 
Palos,  where  everybody  was  more  or  less  interest- 
ed in  the  fate  of  his  expedition.  The  most  impor- 
tant and  wealthy  sea-captains  of  the  place  had  en- 
gaged in  it,  and  scarcely  a  family  but  had  some 
relative  or  friend  among  the  navigators.  The  de- 
parture of  the  ships  upon  what  appeared  a  chimer- 
ical and  desperate  cruise,  had  spread  gloom  and 
dismay  over  the  place  ;  and  the  storms  which  had 
raged  throughout  the  winter  had  heightened  the 
public  despondency.  Many  lamented  their  friends 
as  lost,  while  imagination  lent  mysterious  horrors 
to  their  fate,  picturing  them  as  driven  about  over 
wild  and  desert  wastes  of  water  without  a  shore, 
or  as  perishing  amid  rocks  and  quicksands  and 
whirlpools  ;  or  a  prey  to  those  monsters  of  the 
deep,  with  which  credulity  peopled  every  distant 
and  unfrequented  sea.  There  was  something 
more  awful  in  such  a  mysterious  fate  than  in  death 
itself,  under  any  defined  and  ordinary  form.* 

Great  was  the  agitation  of  the  inhabitants,  there- 
fore, when  they  beheld  one  of  the  ships  standing  up 
the  river  ;  but  when  they  learned  that  she  returned 
in  triumph  from  the  discovery  of  a  world,  the 
whole  community  broke  forth  into  transports  of 
joy.  The  bells  were  rung,  the  shops  shut,  all 
business  was  suspended  :  for  a  time  there  was 
nothing  but  hurry  and  tumult.  Some  were  anxious 
to  know  the  fate  of  a  relative,  others  of  a  friend, 
and  all  to  learn  the  particulars  of  so  wonderful  a 
voyage.  When  Columbus  landed,  the  multitude 
thronged  to  see  and  welcome  him,  and  a  grand 
procession  was  formed  to  the  principal  church,  to 
return  thanks  to  God  for  so  signal  a  discovery 
made  by  the  people  of  that  place — forgetting,  in 
their  exultation,  the  thousand  difficulties  they  had 
thrown  in  the  way  of  the  enterprise.  Wherever 
Columbus  passed,  he  was  hailed  with  shouts  and 
acclamations.  What  a  contrast  to  his  departure 
a  few  months  before,  followed  by  murmurs  and 
execrations  ;  or,  rather,  what  a  contrast  to  his  first 
arrival  at  Palos,  a  poor  pedestrian,  craving  bread 
and  water  for  his  child  at  the  gate  of  a  convent  ! 

Understanding  that  the  court  was  at  Barcelona, 
he  felt  disposed  to  proceed  thither  immediately  in 
his  caravel  ;  reflecting,  however,  on  the  dangers 
and  disasters  he  had  already  experienced  on  the 
seas,  he  resolved  to  proceed  by  land.  He  dis- 
patched a  letter  to  the  king  and  queen,  informing 
them  of  his  arrival,  and  soon  afterward  departed 
for  Seville  to  await  their  orders,  taking  with  him 
six  of  the  natives  whom  he  had  brought  from  the 
New  World.  One  had  died  at  sea,  and  three 
were  left  ill  at  Palos. 

It  is  a  singular  coincidence,  which  appears  to 
be  well  authenticated,  that  on  the  very  evening  of 
the  arrival  of  Columbus  at  Palos,  and  while  the 
peals  of  triumph  were  still  ringing  from  its  towers, 
the  Pinta,  commanded  by  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon, 
likewise  entered  the  river.  After  her  separa- 


*  In  the  maps  and  charts  of  those  times,  and  even 
in  those  of  a  much  later  date,  the  variety  of  formidable 
and  hideous  monsters  depicted  in  all  remote  parts  of 
the  ocean  evince  the  terrors  and  dangers  with  which 
the  imagination  clothed  it.  The  same  may  also  be 
said  of  distant  and  unknown  lands  ;  the  remote  parts 
of  Asia  and  Africa  have  monsters  depicted  in  them 
which  it  would  be  difficult  to  trace  to  any  originals  in 
natural  history. 


70 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


tion  from  the  admiral  in  the  storm,  she  had  been 
driven  before  the  gale  into  the  Bay  of  Bis- 
cay, and  had  made  the  port  of  Bayonne.  Doubt- 
ing whether  Columbus  had  survived  the  tem- 
pest, Pinzon  had  immediately  written  to  the 
sovereigns  giving  information  of  the  discover)' 
he  had  made,  and  had  requested  permission 
to  come  to  court  and  communicate  the  particu- 
lars in  person.  As  soon  as  the  weather  per- 
mitted, he  had  again  set  sail,  anticipating  a  tri- 
umphant reception  in  his  native  port  of  Palos. 
When,  on  entering  the  harbor,  he  beheld  the  ves- 
sel of  the  admiral  riding  at  anchor,  and  learnt 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  he  had  been  received, 
the  heart  of  Pinzon  died  within  him.  It  is  said 
that  he  feared  to  meet  Columbus  in  this  hour  of  his 
triumph,  lest  he  should  put  him  under  arrest  for 
his  desertion  on  the  coast  of  Cuba  ;  but  he  was  a 
man  of  too  much  resolution  to  indulge  in  such  a 
fear.  It  is  more  probable  that  a  consciousness  of 
his  misconduct  made  him  unwilling  to  appear  be- 
fore the  public  in  the  midst  of  their  enthusiasm  for 
Columbus,  and  perhaps  he  sickened  at  the  hon- 
ors heaped  upon  a  man  whose  superiority  he  had 
been  so  unwilling  to  acknowledge.  Getting  into 
his  boat,  therefore,  he  landed  privately  and  kept 
out  of  sight  until  he  heard  of  the  admiral's  depart- 
ure. He  then  returned  to  his  home,  broken  in 
health  and  deeply  dejected,  considering  all  the 
honors  and  eulogiums  heaped  upon  Columbus  as 
so  many  reproaches  on  himself.  The  reply  of  the 
sovereigns  to  his  letter  at  length  arrived.  It  was 
of  a  reproachful  tenor,  and  forbade  his  appearance 
at  court.  This  letter  completed  his  humiliation  ; 
the  anguish  of  his  feelings  gave  virulence  to  his 
bodily  malady,  and  in  a  few  days  he  died,  a  victim 
to  deep  chagrin.* 

Let  no  one,  however,  indulge  in  harsh  censures 
over  the  grave  of  Pinzon  !  His  merits  and  ser- 
vices are  entitled  to  the  highest  praise  ;  his  errors 
should  be  regarded  with  indulgence.  He  was  one 
of  the  foremost  in  Spain  to  appreciate  the  project 
of  Columbus,  animating  him  by  his  concurrence 
and  aiding  him  with  his  purse,  when  poor  and 
unknown  at  Palos.  He  afterward  enabled  him  to 
procure  and  fit  out  ships,  when  even  the  mandates 
of  the  sovereigns  were  ineffectual  ;  and  finally 
embarked  in  the  expedition  with  his  brothers  and 
his  friends,  staking  life,  property,  everything  upon 
the  event.  He  thus  entitled  himself  to  participate 
largely  in  the  glory  of  this  immortal  enterprise  ; 
but  unfortunately,  forgetting  for  a  moment  the 
grandeur  of  the  cause,  and  the  implicit  obedience 
due  to  his  commander,  he  yielded  ID  the  incite- 
ments of  self-interest,  and  committed  that  act  of 
insubordination  which  has  cast  a  shade  upon  his 
name.  In  extenuation  of  his  fault,  however,  may 
be  alleged  his  habits  of  command,  which  rendered 
him  impatient  of  control  ;  his  consciousness  of 
having  rendered  great  services  to  the  expedition, 
and  of  possessing  property  in  the  ships.  That  he 
was  a  man  of  great  professional  merit  is  admitted 
by  all  his  contemporaries  ;  that  he  naturally  pos- 
sessed generous  sentiments  and  an  honorable  am- 
bition, is  evident  from  the  poignancy  with  which 
he  felt  the  disgrace  drawn  on  him  by  his  miscon- 
duct. A  mean  man  would  not  have  fallen  a  vic- 
tim to  self-upbraiding  for  having  been  convicted 
of  a  mean  action.  His  story  shows  how  one  lapse 
from  duty  may  counterbalance  the  merits  or  a 
thousand  services  ;  how  one  moment  of  weakness 
may  mar  the  beauty  of  a  whole  life  of  virtue  ;  and 


how  important  it  is  for  a  man,  under  all  circum- 
stances, to  be  true  not  merely  to  others,  but  to 
himself.* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RECEPTION  OF  COLUMBUS  BY  THE  SPANISH  COURT 
AT    BARCELONA. 

THE  letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Spanish  mon- 
archs  had  produced  the  greatest  .sensation  at 
court.  The  event  he  announced  was  considered 
the  most  extraordinary  of  their  prosperous  reign, 
and  following  so  close  upon  the  conquest  of  Gra- 
nada, was  pronounced  a  signal  mark  of  divine  fa- 
vor for  that  triumph  achieved  in  the  cause  of  the 
true  faith.  The  sovereigns  themselves  were  for  a 
time  dazzled  by  this  sudden  and  easy  acquisition 
of  a  new  empire,  of  indefinite  extent,  and  appar- 
ently boundless  wealth  ;  and  their  first  idea  was 
to  secure  it  beyond  the  reach  of  dispute.  Shortly 
after  his  arrival  in  Seville,  Columbus  received  a 
letter  from  them  expressing  their  great  delight, 
and  requesting  him  to  repair  immediately  to 
court,  to  concert  plans  for  a  second  and  more  ex- 
tensive expedition.  As  the  summer,  the  time  fa- 
vorable for  a  voyage,  was  approaching,  they  de- 
sired him  to  make  any  arrangements  at  Seville  or 
elsewhere  that  might  hasten  the  expedition,  and 
to  inform  them,  by  the  return  of  the  courier, 
what  was  to  be  done  on  their  part.  This  letter 


*  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  5v.  |  14.     Charle- 
voix,  Hist.  St.  Domin.  lib.  ii. 


*  After  a  lapse  of  years,  the  descendants  of  the 
Pinzons  made  strenuous  representations  to  the  crown 
of  the  merits  and  services  of  their  family,  endeavor- 
ing to  prove,  among  other  things,  that  but  for  the 
aid  and  encouragement  of  Martin  Alonzo  and  his 
brothers,  Columbus  would  never  have  made  his  dis- 
covery. Some  of  the  testimony  rendered  on  this  and 
another  occasion  was  rather  extravagant  and  absurd, 
as  will  be  shown  in  another  part  of  this  work.f  The 
Emperor  Charles  V.,  however,  taking  into  considera- 
tion the  real  services  of  the  brothers  in  the  first  voyage, 
and  the  subsequent  expeditions  and  discoveries  of  that 
able  and  inlrepid  navigator,  Vincente  Yafiez  Pinzon, 
granted  to  the  family  the  well-merited  rank  and  privi- 
leges of  Hidiilguia,  a  degree  of  nobility  which  consti- 
tuted them  noble  hidalgos,  with  the  right  of  prefixing 
the  title  of  Don  to  their  names.  A  coat  of  arms  was 
also  given  them,  emblematical  of  their  services  as  dis- 
coverers. These  privileges  and  arms  are  carefully 
preserved  by  the  family  at  the  present  day. 

The  Pinzons  at  present  reside  principally  in  the 
little  city  of  Moguer,  about  a  league  from  Palos,  and 
possess  vineyards  and  estates  about  the  neighborhood. 
They  are  in  easy,  if  not  affluent  circumstances,  and 
inhabit  the  best  houses  in  Moguer.  Here  they  have 
continued,  from  generation  to  generation,  since  the 
time  of  the  discovery,  filling  places  of  public  trust  and 
dignity,  enjoying  the  good  opinion  and  good  will  of 
their  fellow  -  citizens,  and  flourishing  in  nearly  the 
same  state  in  which  they  were  found  by  Columbus, 
on  his  first  visit  to  Palos.  It  is  rare  indeed  to  find  a 
family,  in  this  fluctuating  world,  so  little  changed  by 
the  revolutions  of  nearly  three  centuries  and  a  half. 

Whatever  Palos  may  have  been  in  the  time  of 
Columbus,  it  is  now  a  paltry  village  of  about  four  hun- 
dred inhabitants,  who  subsist  chiefly  by  laboring  in 
the  fields  and  vineyards.  The  convent  of  La  Rabida 
still  exists,  but  is  inhabited  merely  by  two  friars,  with 
a  novitiate  and  a  lay  brother.  It  is  situated  on  a  hill, 
surrounded  by  a  scattered  forest  of  pine  trees,  and 
overlooks  the  low  sandy  country  of  the  sea-coast,  and 
the  windings  of  the  river  by  which  Columbus  sallied 
forth  upon  the  ucean. 

t  Vide  Illustrations,  article  "  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon." 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


71 


was  addressed  to  him  by  the  title  of  "  Don  Chris- 
topher Columbus,  our  admiral  of  the  ocean  sea, 
and  viceroy  and  governor  of  the  islands  discovered 
in  the  Indies  ;"  at  the  same  time  he  was  promised 
still  further  rewards.  Columbus  lost  no  time  in 
complying  with  the  commands  of  the  sovereigns. 
He  sent  a  memorandum  of  the  ships,  men,  and 
munitions  requisite,  and  having  made  such  dispo- 
sitions at  Seville  as  circumstances  permitted,  set 
out  for  Barcelona,  taking  with  him  the  six  In- 
dians, and  the  various  curiosities  and  productions 
brought  from  the  New  World. 

The  fame  of  his  discovery  had  resounded 
throughout  the  nation,  and  as  his  route  lay 
through  several  of  the  finest  and  most  populous 
provinces  of  Spain,  his  journey  appeared  like  the 
progress  of  a  sovereign.  Wherever  he  passed  the 
country  poured  forth  its  inhabitants,  who  lined 
the  road  and  thronged  the  villages.  The  streets, 
windows,  and  balconies  of  the  towns  were  filled 
with  eager  spectators,  who  rent  the  air  with  ac- 
clamations. His  journey  was  continually  impeded 
by  the  multitude  pressing  to  gain  a  sight  of  him 
and  of  the  Indians,  who  were  regarded  with  as 
much  astonishment  as  if  they  had  been  natives  of 
another  planet.  It  was  impossible  to  satisfy  the 
craving  curiosity  which  assailed  him  and  his  at- 
tendants at  every  stage  with  innumerable  ques- 
tions ;  popular  rumor,  as  usual,  had  exaggerated 
the  truth,  and  had  filled  the  newly-found  country 
with  all  kinds  of  wonders. 

About  the  middle  of  April  Columbus  arrived  at 
Barcelona,  where  every  preparation  had  been 
made  to  give  him  a  solemn  and  magnificent  re- 
ception. The  beauty  and  serenity  of  the  weather 
in  that  genial  season  and  favored  climate  con- 
tributed to  give  splendor  to  this  memorable  cere- 
mony. As  he  drew  near  the  place,  many  of  the 
youthful  courtiers  and  hidalgos,  together  with  a 
vast  concourse  of  the  populace,  came  forth  to 
meet  and  welcome  him.  His  entrance  into  this 
noble  city  has  been  compared  to  one  of  those  tri- 
umphs which  the  Romans  were  accustomed  to 
decree  to  conquerors.  First  were  paraded  the 
Indians,  painted  according  to  their  savage  fash- 
ion, and  decorated  with  their  national  ornaments 
of  gold.  After  these  were  borne  various  kinds  of 
live  parrots,  together  with  stuffed  birds  and  ani- 
mals ot  unknown  species,  and  rare  plants  supposed 
to  be  of  precious  qualities  ;  while  great  care  was 
taken  to  make  a  conspicuous  display  of  Indian  cor- 
onets, bracelets,  and  other  decorations  of  gold, 
which  might  give  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  the 
newly-discovered  regions.  After  this,  followed 
Columbus  on  horseback,  surrounded  by  a  brill- 
iant cavalcade  of  Spanish  chivalry.  The  streets 
were  almost  impassable  from  the  countless  multi- 
tude ;  the  windows  and  balconies  were  crowded 
with  the  fair  ;  the  very  roofs  were  covered  with 
spectators.  It  seemed  as  if  the  public  eye  could 
not  be  sated  with  gazing  on  these  trophies  of  an 
unknown  world  ;  or  on  the  remarkable  man  by 
whom  it  had  been  discovered.  There  was  a  sub- 
limity in  this  event  that  mingled  a  solemn  feeling 
with  the  public  joy.  It  was  looked  upon  as  a  vast 
and  signal  dispensation  of  Providence,  in  reward 
for  the  piety  of  the  monarchs  ;  and  the  majestic 
and  venerable  appearance  of  the  discoverer,  so 
different  from  the  youth  and  buoyancy  generally 
expected  from  roving  enterprise,  seemed  in  har- 
mony with  the  grandeur  and  dignity  of  his 
achievement. 

To  receive  him  with  suitable  pomp  and  distinc- 
tion, the  sovereigns  had  ordered  their  throne  to  be 
placed  in  public  under  a  rich  canopy  of  brocade 


of  gold,  in  a  vast  and  splendid  saloon.  Here  the 
king  and  queen  awaited  his  arrival,  seated  in 
state,  with  the  prince  Juan  beside  them,  and  at- 
tended by  the  dignitaries  of  their  court,  and  the 
principal  nobility  of  Castile,  Valentia,  Catalonia, 
and  Arragon,  all  impatient  to  behold  the  man 
who  had  conferred  so  incalculable  a  benefit  upon 
the  nation.  At  length  Columbus  entered  the 
hall,  surrounded  by  a  brilliant  crowd  of  cavaliers, 
among  whom,  says  La  Casas,  he  was  conspicuous 
for  his  stately  and  commanding  person,  which 
with  his  countenance,  rendered  venerable  by  his 
gray  hairs,  gave  him  the  august  appearance  of  a 
senator  of  Rome  ;  a  modest  smile  lighted  up  his 
features,  showing  that  he  enjoyed  the  state  and 
glory  in  which  he  came  ;*  and  certainly  nothing 
could  be  more  deeply  moving  to  a  mind  inflamed 
by  noble  ambition,  and  conscious  of  having 
greatly  deserved,  than  these  testimonials  of  the 
admiration  and  gratitude  of  a  nation,  or  rather  of 
a  world.  As  Columbus  approached  the  sover- 
eigns rose,  as  if  receiving  a  person  of  the  highest 
rank.  Bending  his  knees,  he  offered  to  kiss  their 
hands  ;  but  there  was  some  hesitation  on  their 
part  to  permit  this  act  of  homage.  Raising  him  in 
the  most  gracious  manner,  they  ordered  him  to 
seat  himself  in  their  presence  ;  a  rare  honor  in 
this  proud  and  punctilious  court.f 

At  their  request,  he  now  gave  an  account  of 
the  most  striking  events  of  his  voyage,  and  a  de- 
scription of  the  islands  discovered.  He  displayed 
specimens  of  unknown  birds  and  other  animals  ; 
of  rare  plants  of  medicinal  and  aromatic  virtues  ; 
of  native  gold  in  dust,  in  crude  masses,  or  labored 
into  barbaric  ornaments  ;  and,  above  all,  the  na- 
tives of  these  countries,  who  were  objects  of  in- 
tense and  inexhaustible  interest.  All  these  he 
pronounced  mere  harbingers  of  greater  discover- 
ies yet  to  be  made,  which  would  add  realms  of 
incalculable  wealth  to  the  dominions  of  their  maj- 
esties, and  whole  nations  of  proselytes  to  the  true 
faith. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  sovereigns  sank  on 
their  knees,  and  raising  their  clasped  hands  to 
heaven,  their  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  joy  and  grat- 
itude, poured  forth  thanks  and  praises  to  God  for 
so  great  a  providence  ;  all  present  followed  their 
example  ;  a  deep  and  solemn  enthusiasm  pervaded 
that  splendid  assembly,  and  prevented  all  common 
acclamations  of  triumph.  The  anthem  Te  Deum 
laudamus,  chanted  by  the  choir  of  the  royal  chapel, 
with  the  accompaniment  of  instruments,  rose  in  a 
full  body  of  sacred  harmony  ;  bearing  up,  as  it 
were,  the  feelings  and  thoughts  of  the  auditors  to 
heaven,  "  so  that,"  says  the  venerable  Las  Casas, 
"  it  seemed  as  if  in  that  hour  they  communicated 
with  celestial  delights."  Such  was  the  solemn 
and  pious  manner  in  which  the  brilliant  court  of 
Spain  celebrated  this  sublime  event ;  offering  up 
a  grateful  tribute  of  melody  and  praise,  and  giv- 
ing glory  to  God  for  the  discovery  of  another 
world. 

When  Columbus  retired  from  the  royal  pres- 
ence, he  was  attended  to  his  residence  by  all  the 
court,  and  followed  by  the  shouting  populace. 
For  many  days  he  was  the  object  of  universal  curi- 
osity, and  wherever  he  appeared  was  surrounded 
by  an  admiring  multitude. 

While  his  mind  was  teeming  with  glorious  an- 
ticipations, his  pious  scheme  for  the  deliverance 
of  the  holy  sepulchre  was  not  forgotten.  It  has 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  78,  MS 
f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.   cap.   78.     Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  81. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


been  shown  that  he  suggested  it  to  the  Spanish 
sovereigns  at  the  time  ot  first  making  his  propo- 
sitions, holding  it  forth  as  the  great  object  to  be 
effected  by  the  profits  of  his  discoveries.  Flushed 
with  the  idea  of  the  vast  wealth  now  to  accrue  to 
himself,  he  made  a  vow  to  furnish  within  seven 
)  years  an  army,  consisting  of  four  thousand  horse 
and  fifty  thousand  foot,  for  the  rescue  of  the  holy 
sepulchre,  and  a  similar  force  within  the  five  fol- 
lowing years.  This  vow  was  recorded  in  one  of 
his  letters  to  the  sovereigns,  to  which  he  refers, 
but  which  is  no  longer  extant ;  nor  is  it  certain 
whether  it  was  made  at  the  end  of  his  first  voy- 
age or  at  a  subsequent  date,  when  the  magnitude 
and  wealthy  result  of  his  discoveries  became  more 
fully  manifest.  He  often  alludes  to  it  vaguely  in 
his  writings,  and  he  refers  to  it  expressly  in  a  let- 
ter to  Pope  Alexander  VI.,  written  in  1502,  in 
which  he  accounts  also  for  its  non-fulfilment.  It 
is  essential  to  a  full  comprehension  of  the  char- 
acter and  motives  of  Columbus,  that  this  visionary 
project  should  be  borne  in  recollection.  It  will 
be  found  to  have  entwined  itself  in  his  mind  with 
his  enterprise  of  discovery,  and  that  a  holy  cru- 
sade was  to  be  the  consummation  of  those  divine 
purposes,  for  which  he  considered  himself  selected 
by  Heaven  as  an  agent.  It  shows  how  much  his 
mind  was  elevated  above  selfish  and  mercenary 
views — how  it  was  filled  with  those  devout  and 
heroic  schemes,  which  in  the  time  of  the  Crusades 
had  inflamed  the  thoughts  and  directed  the  enter- 
prises of  the  bravest  warriors  and  most  illustrious 
princes. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SOJOURN  OF  COLUMBUS  AT  BARCELONA — ATTEN- 
TIONS PAID  HIM  BY  THE  SOVEREIGNS  AND 
COURTIERS. 

THE  joy  occasioned  by  the  great  discovery  of 
Columbus  was  not  confined  to  Spain  ;  the  tidings 
were  spread  far  and  wide  by  the  communications 
of  ambassadors,  the  correspondence  of  the  learn- 
ed, the  negotiations  of  merchants,  and  the  reports 
of  travellers,  and  the  whole  civilized  world  was 
filled  with  wonder  and  delight.  How  gratifying 
would  it  have  been,  had  the  press  at  that  time,  as 
at  present,  poured  forth  its  daily  tide  of  specula- 
tion on  every  passing  occurrence  !  With  what 
eagerness  should  we  seek  to  know  the  first  ideas 
and  emotions  of  the  public,  on  an  event  so  un- 
iooked  for  and  sublime  !  Even  the  first  announce- 
ments of  it  by  contemporary  writers,  though  brief 
and  incidental,  derive  interest  from  being  written 
at  the  time  ;  and  from  showing  the  casual  way  in 
which  such  great  tidings  were  conveyed  about 
the  world.  Allegretto  Allegretti,  in  his  annals  of 
Sienna  for  1493,  mentions  it  as  just  made  known 
there  by  the  letters  of  their  merchants  who  were 
in  Spain,  and  by  the  mouths  of  various  travellers.* 
The  news  was  brought  to  Genoa  by  the  return  of 
her  ambassadors  Francisco  Marchesi  and  Gio- 
vanni Antonio  Grimaldi,  and  was  recorded 
among  the  triumphant  events  of  the  year ;  t  for 
the  republic,  though  she  may  have  slighted  the 
opportunity  of  making  herself  mistress  of  the  dis- 
covery, has  ever  since  been  tenacious  of  the  glory 
of  having  given  birth  to  the  discoverer.  The 
tidings  were  soon  carried  to  England,  which  as 
yet  was  but  a  maritime  power  of  inferior  impor- 


*  Diarj    Senesi    de   Alleg.  Allegretti.      Muratori, 
.Ital.  Script.,  torn,  exiii. 

f  Foglieta,  Istoria  de  Geneva,  lib.  ii. 


tance.  They  caused,  however,  much  wonder  in 
London,  and  great  talk  and  admiration  in  the 
court  of  Henry  VII.,  where  the  discovery  was 
pronounced  "  a  thing  more  divine  than  human." 
We  have  this  on  the  authority  ot  Sebastian  Cabot 
himself,  the  future  discoverer  of  the  northern  con- 
tinent of  America,  who  was  in  London  at  the 
time,  and  was  inspired  by  the  event  with  a  gener- 
ous spirit  of  emulation.* 

Every  member  of  civilized  society,  in  fact,  re- 
joiced in  the  occurrence,  as  one  in  which  he  was 
more  or  less  interested.  To  some  it  opened  a 
new  and  unbounded  field  of  inquiry  ;  to  others, 
of  enterprise  ;  and  every  one  awaited  with  intense 
eagerness  the  further  development  of  this  un- 
known world,  still  covered  with  mystery,  the  par- 
tial glimpses  of  which  were  so  full  of  wonder. 
We  have  a  brief  testimony  of  the  emotions  of  the 
learned  in  a  letter,  written  at  the  time,  by  Peter 
Martyr  to  his  friend  Pomponius  Laetus.  "  You 
tell  me,  my  amiable  Pomponius,"  he  writes, 
"that  you  leaped  for  joy,  and  that  your  delight 
was  mingled  with  tears,  when  you  read  my  epis- 
tle, certifying  to  you  the  hitherto  hidden  world  of 
the  antipodes.  You  have  felt  and  acted  as  became 
a  man  eminent  for  learning,  for  I  can  conceive 
no  aliment  more  delicious  than  such  tidings  to  a 
cultivated  and  ingenuous  mind.  I  feel  a  wonder- 
ful exultation  of  spirits  when  I  converse  with  intel- 
ligent men  who  have  returned  from  these  regions. 
It  is  like  an  accession  of  wealth  to  a  miser.  Our 
minds,  soiled  and  debased  by  the  common  con- 
cerns of  life  and  the  vices  of  society,  become  ele- 
vated and  ameliorated  by  contemplating  such  glo- 
rious events. "f 

Notwithstanding  this  universal  enthusiasm, 
however,  no  one  was  aware  of  the  real  impor- 
tance of  the  discovery.  No  one  had  an  idea  that 
this  was  a  totally  distinct  portion  of  the  globe, 
separated  by  oceans  from  the  ancient  world. 
The  opinion  of  Columbus  was  universally  adopt- 
ed, that  Cuba  was  the  end  of  the  Asiatic  conti- 
nent, and  that  the  adjacent  islands  were  in  the  In- 
dian seas.  This  agreed  with  the  opinions  of  the 
ancients,  heretofore  cited,  about  the  moderate  dis- 
tance from  Spain  to  the  extremity  of  India,  sailing 
westwarclly.  The  parrots  were  also  thought  to 
resemble  those  described  by  Pliny,  as  abounding 
in  the  remote  parts  of  Asia.  The  lands,  there- 
fore, which  Columbus  had  visited  were  called  the 
West  Indies  ;  and  as  he  seemed  to  have  entered 
upon  a  vast  region  of  unexplored  countries,  exist- 
ing in  a  state  of  nature,  the  whole  received  the 
comprehensive  appellation  of  "  The  New  World." 

During  the  whole  of  his  sojourn  at  Barcelona, 
the  sovereigns  took  every  occasion  to  bestow  on 
Columbus  personal  marks  of  their  high  considera- 
tion. He  was  admitted  at  all  times  to  the  royal 
presence,  and  the  queen  delighted  to  converse 
with  him  on  the  subject  of  his  enterprises.  The 
king,  too,  appeared  occasionally  on  horseback, 
with  Prince  Juan  on  one  side,  and  Columbus  on 
the  other.  To  perpetuate  in  his  family  the  glory 
of  his  achievement,  a  coat  of  arms  was  assigned 
him,  in  which  the  royal  arms,  the  castle  and  lion, 
were  quartered  with  his  proper  bearings,  which 
were  a  group  of  islands  surrounded  by  waves.  To 
these  arms  was  afterward  annexed  the  motto  : 

A  Castilla  y  a  Leon, 
Nuevo  mundo  dio  Colon. 

(To  Castile  and  Leon 
Columbus  gave  a  new  world.) 


*  Hackluyt,  Collect.  Voyages,  vol.,  iii.  p.  7. 
f  Letters  of  P.  Martyr,  let.  153. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


73 


The  pension  which  had  been  decreed  by  the 
sovereigns  to  him  who  in  the  first  voyage  should 
discover  land,  was  adjudged  to  Columbus,  for 
having  first  seen  the  light  on  the  shore.  It  is 
said  that  the  seaman  who  first  descried  the  land 
was  so  incensed  at  being  disappointed  of  what  he 
conceived  his  merited  reward,  that  he  renounced 
his  country  and  his  faith,  and  going  into  Africa 
turned  Mussulman  ;  an  anecdote  which  rests 
merely  on  the  authority  of  Oviedo,*  who  is  ex- 
tremely incorrect  in  his  narration  of  this  voyage, 
and  inserts  many  falsehoods  told  him  by  the  ene- 
mies of  the  admiral. 

It  may  at  first  sight  appear  but  little  accordant 
with  the  acknowledged  magnanimity  of  Colum- 
bus, to  have  borne  away  the  prize  from  this  poor 
sailor,  but  this  was  a  subject  in  which  his  whole 
ambition  was  involved,  and  he  was  doubtless 
proud  of  the  honor  of  being  personally  the  discov- 
erer of  the  land  as  well  as  projector  of  the  enter- 
prise. 

Next  to  the  countenance  shown  him  by  the 
king  and  queen  may  be  mentioned  that  of  Pedro 
Gonzalez  de  Mendoza,  the  Grand  Cardinal  of 
Spain,  and  first  subject  of  the  realm  ;  a  man 
whose  elevated  character  for  piety,  learning,  and 
high  prince-like  qualities,  gave  signal  value  to  his 
favors.  He  invited  Columbus  to  a  banquet,  where 
he  assigned  him  the  most  honorable  place  at 
table,  and  had  him  served  with  the  ceremonials 
which  in  those  punctilious  times  were  observed 
toward  sovereigns.  At  this  repast  is  said  to  have 
occurred  the  well-known  anecdote  of  the  egg.  A 
shallow  courtier  present,  impatient  of  the  honors 
paid  to  Columbus,  and  meanly  jealous  of  him  as 
1  a  foreigner,  abruptly  asked  him  whether  he 
thought  that,  in  case  he  had  not  discovered  the 
Indies,  there  were  not  other  men  in  Spain  who 
would  have  been  capable  of  the  enterprise  ?  To 
this  Columbus  made  no  immediate  reply,  but,  tak- 
ing an  egg,  invited  the  company  to  make  it  stand 
on  one  end.  Everyone  attempted  it,  but  in  vain  ; 
whereupon  he  struck  it  upon  the  table  so  as  to 
break  the  end,  and  left  it  standing  on  the  broken 
part  ;  illustrating  in  this  simple  manner  that 
when  he  had  once  shown  the  way  to  the  New 
World  nothing  was  easier  than  to  follow  it.f 

The  favor  shown  Columbus  by  the  sovereigns 
insured  him  for  a  time  the  caresses  of  the  nobil- 
ity ;  for  in  a  court  every  one  vies  with  his  neigh- 
bor in  lavishing  attentions  upon  the  man  "  whom 
the  king  delighteth  to  honor."  Columbus  bore 
all  these  caresses  and  distinctions  with  becoming 
modesty,  though  he  must  have  felt  a  proud  satis- 
faction in  the  idea  that  they  had  been  wrested,  as 
it  were,  from  the  nation  by  his  courage  and  per- 
severance. One  can  hardly  recognize  in  the  in- 
dividual thus  made  the  companion  of  princes,  and 
the  theme  of  general  wonder  and  admiration,  the 
same  obscure  stranger  who  but  a  short  time  be- 
fore had  been  a  common  scoff  and  jest  in  this  very 
court,  derided  by  some  as  an  adventurer,  and 
pointed  at  by  others  as  a  madman.  Those  who 
had  treated  him  with  contumely  during  his  long 
course  of  solicitation,  now  sought  to  efface  the 
!  remembrance  of  it  by  adulations.  Every  one 


*  Oviedo,  Cronico  de  las  Indias,  lib.  ii.  cap.  2. 

f  This  anecdote  rests  on  the  authority  of  the  Italian 
historian  Benzoni  (lib.  i.  p.  12,  ed.  Venetia,  1572). 
It  has  been  condemned  as  trivial,  but  the  simplicity 
of  the  reproof  constitutes  its  severity,  and  was  char- 
acteristic of  the  practical  sagacity  of  Columbus.  The 
universal  popularity  of  the  anecdote  is  a  proof  of  its 
merit. 


who  had  given  him  a  little  cold  countenance,  or 
a  few  courtly  smiles,  now  arrogated  to  himself  the 
credit  of  having  been  a  patron  and  of  having  pro- 
moted the  discovery  of  the  New  World.  Scarce 
a  great  man  about  the  court  but  has  been  enroll- 
ed by  his  historian  or  biographer  among  the  bene- 
factors of  Columbus  ;  though,  had  one  tenth  part 
of  this  boasted  patronage  been  really  exerted,  he 
would  never  have  had  to  linger  seven  years  solicit- 
ing for  an  armament  of  three  caravels.  Columbus 
knew  well  the  weakness  of  the  patronage  that  had 
been  given  him.  The  only  friends  mentioned  by 
him  with  gratitude,  in  his  after  letters,  as  having 
been  really  zealous  and  effective,  were  those  two 
worthy  friars,  Diego  de  Deza,  afterward  Bishop  of 
Palencia  and  Seville,  and  Juan  Perez,  the  prior  of 
the  convent  of  La  Rabida. 

Thus  honored  by  the  sovereigns,  courted  by  the 
great,  idolized  by  the  people,  Columbus,  for  a 
time,  drank  the  honeyed  draught  of  popularity, 
before  enmity  and  detraction  had  time  to  drug 
it  with  bitterness.  His  discovery  bur  st  with  such 
sudden  splendor  upon  the  world  as  to  dazzle  envy 
itself,  and  to  call  forth  the  general  acclamations 
of  mankind.  Well  would  it  be  for  the  honor  of 
human  nature,  could  history,  like  romance,  close 
with  the  consummation  of  the  hero's  wishes  ;  we 
should  then  leave  Columbus  in  the  full  fruition  of 
great  and  well-merited  prosperity.  But  his  his- 
tory is  destined  to  furnish  another  proof,  if  proof 
be  wanting,  of  the  inconstancy  of  public  favor, 
even  when  won  by  distinguished  services.  No 
greatness  was  ever  acquired  by  more  incontesta- 
ble, unalloyed,  and  exalted  benefits  rendered  to 
mankind,  yet  none  ever  drew  on  its  possessor 
more  unremitting  jealousy  and  defamation  ;  or 
involved  him  in  more  unmerited  distress  and  diffi- 
culty. Thus  it  is  with  illustrious  merit  :  its  very 
effulgence  draws  forth  the  rancorous  passions  of 
low  and  grovelling  minds,  which  too  often  have  a 
temporary  influence  in  obscuring  it  to  the  world  ; 
as  the  sun  emerging  with  full  splendor  into  the 
heavens,  calls  up,  by  the  very  fervor  of  its  rays,  the 
rank  and  noxious  vapors,  which,  for  a  time,  be- 
cloud its  glory. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

PAPAL  BULL  OF  PARTITION — PREPARATIONS  FOR 
A  SECOND  VOYAGE  OF  COLUMBUS. 

[H93-] 

IN  the  midst  of  their  rejoicings  the  Spanish 
sovereigns  lost  no  time  in  taking  every  measure 
necessary  to  secure  their  new  acquisitions.  Al- 
though it  was  supposed  that  the  countries  just  dis- 
covered were  part  of  the  territories  of  the  Grand 
Khan,  and  of  other  Oriental  princes  considerably 
advanced  in  civilization,  yet  there  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  the  least  doubt  of  the  right  of  their 
Catholic  majesties  to  take  possession  of  them. 
During  the  Crusades  a  doctrine  had  been  estab- 
lished among  Christian  princes  extremely  favor- 
able to  their  ambitious  designs.  According  to  this, 
they  had  the  right  to  invade,  ravage,  and  seize 
upon  the  territories  of  all  infidel  nations,  under 
the  plea  of  defeating  the  enemies  of  Christ,  and 
extending  the  sway  of  his  church  on  earth.  In 
conformity  to  the  same  doctrine,  the  pope,  from 
his  supreme  authority  over  all  temporal  things, 
was  considered  as  empowered  to  dispose  of  all 
heathen  lands  to  such  potentates  as  would  engage 
to  reduce  them  to  the  dominion  of  the  church,  and 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


to  propagate  the  true  faith  among  their  benighted 
inhabitants.  It  was  in  virtue  of  this  power  that 
Pope  Martin  V.  and  his  successors  had  conceded 
to  the  crown  of  Portugal  all  the  lands  it  might  dis- 
cover from  Cape  Bojador  to  the  Indies  ;  and  the 
Catholic  sovereigns,  in  a  treaty  concluded  in  1479 
with  the  Portuguese  monarch,  had  engaged  them- 
selves to  respect  the  territorial  rights  thus  ac- 
quired. It  was  to  this  treaty  that  John  II.  alluded, 
in  his  conversation  with  Columbus,  wherein  he 
suggested  his  title  to  the  newly-discovered  coun- 
tries. 

On  the  first  intelligence  received  from  the  ad- 
miral of  his  success,  therefore,  the  Spanish  sover- 
eigns took  the  immediate  precaution  to  secure  the 
sanction  of  the  pope.  Alexander  VI.  had  recently 
been  elevated  to  the  holy  chair  ;  a  pontiff  whom 
some  historians  have  stigmatized  with  every  vice 
and  crime  that  could  disgrace  humanity,  but 
whom  all  have  represented  as  eminently  able  and 
politic.  He  was  a  native  of  Valencia,  and  being 
born  a  subject  of  the  crown  of  Arragon,  it  might 
be  inferred,  was  favorably  disposed  to  Ferdinand  ; 
but  in  certain  questions  which  had  come  before 
him,  he  had  already  shown  a  disposition  not  the 
most  cordial  toward  the  Catholic  monarch.  At 
all  events,  Ferdinand  was  well  aware  of  his 
worldly  and  perfidious  character,  and  endeavored 
to  manage  him  accordingly.  He  dispatched  am- 
bassadors, therefore,  to  the  court  of  Rome,  an- 
nouncing the  new  discovery  as  an  extraordinary 
triumph  of  the  faith  ;  and  setting  forth  the  great 
glory  and  gain  which  must  redound  to  the  church 
from  the  dissemination  of  Christianity  throughout 
these  vast  and  heathen  lands.  Care  was  also 
taken  to  state  that  the  present  discovery  did  not  in 
the  least  interfere  with  the  possessions  ceded  by 
the  holy  chair  to  Portugal,  all  which  had  been 
sedulously  avoided.  Ferdinand,  who  was  at  least 
as  politic  as  he  was  pious,  insinuated  a  hint  at  the 
same  time  by  which  the  pope  might  perceive  that 
he  was  determined,  at  all  events,  to  maintain  his 
important  acquisitions.  His  ambassadors  were 
instructed  to  state  that,  in  the  opinion  of  many 
learned  men,  these  newly-discovered  lands  having 
been  taken  possession  of  by  the  Catholic  sover- 
eigns, their  title  to  the  same  did  not  require  the 
papal  sanction  ;  still,  as  pious  princes,  obedient 
to  the  holy  chair,  they  supplicated  his  holiness  to 
issue  a  bull,  making  a  concession  of  them,  and  of 
such  others  as  might  be  discovered,  to  the  crown 
of  Castile. 

The  tidings  of  the  discovery  were  received,  in 
fact,  with  great  astonishment  and  no  less  exulta- 
tion by  the  court  of  Rome.  The  Spanish  sover- 
eigns had  already  elevated  themselves  to  high  con- 
sequence in  the  eyes  of  the  church,  by  their  war 
against  the  Moors  of  Spain,  which  had  been  con- 
sidered in  the  light  of  a  pious  crusade  ;  and 
though  richly  repaid  by  the  acquisition  of  the 
kingdom  of  Granada,  it  was  thought  to  entitle 
them  to  the  gratitude  of  all  Christendom.  The 
present  discovery  was  a  still  greater  achievement  ; 
it  was  the  fulfilment  of  one  of  the  sublime  prom-  i 
ises  to  the  church  ;  it  was  giving  to  it  "the  heathen 
for  an  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth  for  a  possession."  No  difficulty,  therefore,  j 
was  made  in  granting  what  was  considered  but  a 
modest  request  for  so  important  a  service  ;  -though 
it  is  probable  that  the  acquiescence  of  the  worldly- 
minded  pontiff  was  quickened  by  the  insinuations 
of  the  politic  monarch. 

A  bull  was  accordingly  issued,  dated  May  2d, 
1493,  ceding  to  the  Spanish  sovereigns  the  same 
rights,  privileges,  and  indulgences,  in  respect  to 


the  newly-discovered  regions,  as  had  been  accord- 
ed to  the  Portuguese  with  regard  to  their  African 
discoveries,  under  the  same  condition  of  planting 
and  propagating  the  Catholic  faith.  To  prevent 
any  conflicting  claims,  however,  between  the  two 
powers  in  the  wide  range  of  their  discoveries, 
another  bull  was  issued  on  the  following  day,  con-  j 
taining  the  famous  line  of  demarcation,  by  which  ' 
their  territories  were  thought  to  be  clearly  and 
permanently  defined.  This  was  an  ideal  line 
drawn  from  the  north  to  the  south  pole,  a  hundred 
leagues  to  the  west  of  the  Azores,  and  the  Cape  de 
Verde  Islands.  All  land  discovered  by  the  Span- 
ish navigators  to  the  west  of  this  line,  and  which 
had  not  been  taken  possession  of  by  any  Christian 
power  before  the  preceding  Christmas,  was  to  be- 
long to  the  Spanish  crown  ;  all  land  discovered 
in  the  contrary  direction  was  to  belong  to  Portu- 
gal. It  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  the  pon- 
tiff, that,  by  pushing  their  opposite  careers  of  dis- 
covery, they  might  some  day  or  other  come  again 
in  collision,  and  renew  the  question  of  territorial 
right  at  the  antipodes. 

In  the  mean  time,  without  waiting  for  the  sanc- 
tion of  the  court  of  Rome,  the  utmost  exertions 
were  made  by  the  sovereigns  to  fit  out  a  second 
expedition.  To  insure  regularity  and  dispatch  in 
the  affairs  relative  to  the  New  World,  they  were 
placed  under  the  superintendence  of  Juan  Rodri- 
guez de  Fonseca,  archdeacon  of  Seville,  who  was 
successively  promoted  to  the  sees  of  Bajadoz, 
Palencia,  and  Burgos,  and  finally  appointed  patri- 
arch of  the  Indies.  He  was  a  man  of  family  and 
influence  ;  his  brothers  Alonzo  and  Antonio  were 
seniors,  or  lords,  of  Coca  and  Alaejos,  and  the  lat- 
ter was  comptroller-general  of  Castile.  Juan  Rod- 
riguez de  Fonseca  is  represented  by  Las  Casas  as 
a  worldly  man,  more  calculated  for  temporal  than 
spiritual  concerns,  and  well  adapted  to  the  bus- 
tling occupation  of  fitting  out  and  manning  arma- 
das. Notwithstanding  the  high  ecclesiastical  dig- 
nities to  which  he  rose,  his  worldly  employments 
seem  never  to  have  been  considered  incompatible 
with  his  sacred  functions.  Enjoying  the  per- 
petual, though  unmerited,  favor  of  the  sovereigns, 
he  maintained  the  control  of  Indian  affairs  for 
about  thirty  years.  He  must  undoubtedly  have 
possessed  talents  for  business,  to  insure  him  such 
a  perpetuity  of  office  ;  but  he  was  malignant  and 
vindictive  ;  and  in  the  gratification  of  his  private 
resentments  not  only  heaped  wrongs  and  sorrows 
upon  the  most  illustrious  of  the  early  discoverers, 
but  frequently  impeded  the  progress  of  their  enter- 
prises, to  the  great  detriment  of  the  crown.  This 
he  was  enabled  to  do  privately  and  securely  by  his 
official  situation.  His  perfidious  conduct  is  re- 
peatedly alluded  to,  but  in  guarded  terms,  by  con- 
temporary writers  of  weight  and  credit,  such  as 
the  curate  of  Los  Palacios,  and  the  bishop  Las 
Casas  ;  but  they  evidently  were  fearful  of  express- 
ing the  fulness  of  their  feelings.  Subsequent 
Spanish  historians,  always  more  or  less  controlled 
by  ecclesiastical  supervision,  have  likewise  dealt 
too  favorably  with  this  base-minded  man.  He 
deserves  to  be  held  up  as  a  warning  example  of 
those  perfidious  beings  in  office,  who  too  often  lie 
like  worms  at  the  root  of  honorable  enterprise, 
blighting,  by  their  unseen  influence,  the  fruits  of 
glorious  action,  and  disappointing  the  hopes  of 
nations. 

To  assist  Fonseca  in  his  duties,  Francisco  Pinelo 
was  associated  with  him  as  treasurer,  and  luan 
de  Soria  as  contador,  or  comptroller.  Their 
office,  for  the  transaction  of  Indian  affairs,  was 
fixed  at  Seville  ;  extending  its  vigilance  at  the 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


75 


same  time  to  the  port  of  Cadiz  where  a  custom- 
house was  established  for  this  new  branch  of  navi- 
gation. Such  was  the  germ  of  the  Royal  India 
House,  which  afterward  rose  to  such  great  power 
and  importance.  A  correspondent  office  was  or- 
dered to  be  instituted  in  Hispaniola,  under  the 
direction  of  the  admiral.  These  officers  were  to 
interchange  registers  of  the  cargoes,  crews,  and 
munition  of  each  ship,  by  accountants  who  sailed 
with  lit  All  persons  thus  employed  were  depend- 
ants upon  the  two  comptrollers-general,  superior 
ministers  of  the  royal  revenue  ;  since  the  crown 
was  to  be  at  all  the  expenses  of  the  colony,  and 
to  receive  all  the  emoluments. 

The  most  minute  and  rigorous  account  was  to 
be  exacted  of  all  expenses  and  proceeds,  and  the 
most  vigilant  caution  observed  as  to  the  persons 
employed  in  the  concerns  of  the  newly-discovered 
lands.  No  one  was  permitted  to  go  there,  either 
to  trade  or  to  form  an  establishment,  without  ex- 
press license  from  the  sovereigns,  from  Columbus, 
or  from  Fonseca,  under  the  heaviest  penalties. 
The  ignorance  of  the  age  as  to  enlarged  principles 
of  commerce,  and  the  example  of  the  Portuguese 
in  respect  to  their  African  possessions,  have  been 
cited  in  excuse  of  the  narrow  and  jealous  spirit 
here  manifested  ;  but  it  always  more  or  less  in- 
fluenced the  policy  of  Spain  in  her  colonial  regu- 
lations. 

Another  instance  of  the  despotic  sway  main- 
tained by  the  crown  over  commerce,  is  manifested 
in  a  royal  order,  that  all  ships  in  the  ports  of  An- 
dalusia, with  their  captains,  pilots,  and  crews, 
should  be  held  in  readiness  to  serve  in  this  expe- 
dition. Columbus  and  Fonseca  were  authorized 
to  freight  or  purchase  any  of  those  vessels  they 
might  think  proper,  and  to  take  them  by  force,  if 
refused,  even  though  they  had  been  freighted  by 
other  persons,  paying  what  they  should  conceive  a 
reasonable  price.  They  were  furthermore  author- 
ized to  take  the  requisite  provisions,  arms,  and 
ammunition,  from  any  place  or  vessel  in  which 
they  might  be  found,  paying  a  fair  price  to  the 
owners  ;  and  they  might  compel,  not  merely  mari- 
ners, but  any  officer  holding  any  rank  or  station 
whatever,  whom  they  should  deem  necessary  to 
the  service,  to  embark  in  the  fleet  on  a  reasonable 
pay  and  salary.  The  civil  authorities,  and  all  per- 
sons of  rank  and  standing,  were  called  upon  to 
render  all  requisite  aid  in  expediting  the  arma- 
ment, and  warned  against  creating  any  impedi- 
ment, under  penalty  of  privation  of  office  and  con- 
fiscation of  estate. 

To  provide  for  the  expenses  of  the  expedition 
the  royal  revenue  arising  from  two  thirds  of  the 
church-tithes  was  placed  at  the  disposition  of 
Pinelo  ;  and  other  funds  were  drawn  from  a  dis- 
graceful source — from  the  jewels  and  other  valua- 
bles, the  sequestrated  property  of  the  unfortunate 
Jews,  banished  from  the  kingdom,  according  to  a 
bigoted  edict  of  the  preceding  year.  As  these  re- 
sources were  still  inadequate,  Pinelo  was  author- 
ized to  supply  the  deficiency  by  a  loan.  Requisi- 
tions were  likewise  made  for  provisions  of  all 
kinds,  as  well  as  for  artillery,  powder,  muskets, 
lances,  corselets,  and  cross-bows.  This  latter 
weapon,  notwithstanding  the  introduction  of  fire- 
arms, was  still  preferred  by  many  to  the  arquebus, 
and  considered  more  formidable  and  destructive, 
the  other  having  to  be  used  with  a  match-lock,  and 
being  so  heavy  as  to  require  an  iron  rest.  The 
military  stores  which  had  accumulated  during  the 
war  with  the  Moors  of  Granada  furnished  a  great 
part  of  these  supplies.  Almost  all  the  preceding 
orders  were  issued  by  the  2jd  of  May,  while  Co- 


lumbus was  yet  at  Barcelona.  Rarely  has  there 
been  witnessed  such  a  scene  of  activity  in  the  dila- 
tory offices  of  Spain. 

As  the  conversion  of  the  heathens  was  professed 
to  be  the  grand  object  of  these  discoveries,  twelve 
zealous  and  able  ecclesiastics  were  chosen  for  the 
purpose,  to  accompany  the  expedition.  Among 
these  was  Bernardo  Buyl  or  Boyle,  a  Benedictine 
monk,  of  talent  and  reputed  sanctity,  but  one  of 
those  subtle  politicians  of  the  cloister,  who  in 
those  days  glided  into  all  temporal  concerns.  He 
had  acquitted  himself  with  success  in  recent  nego- 
tiations with- France,  relative  to  the  restitution  of 
Rousillon.  Before  the  sailing  of  the  fleet,  he  was 
appointed  by  the  pope  his  apostolical  vicar  for  the 
New  World,  and  placed  as  superior  over  his  eccle- 
siastical brethren.  This  pious  mission  was  pro- 
vided with  all  things  necessary  for  the  dignified 
performance  of  its  functions  ;  the  queen  supplying 
from  her  own  chapel  the  ornaments  and  vestments 
to  be  used  in  all  solemn  ceremonies.  Isabella, 
from  the  first,  took  the  most  warm  and  compas- 
sionate interest  in  the  welfare  of  the  Indians.  Won 
by  the  accounts  given  by  Columbus  of  their  gen- 
tleness and  simplicity,  and  looking  upon  them  as 
committed  by  Heaven  to  her  especial  care,  her 
heart  was  filled  with  concern  at  their  destitute 
and  ignorant  condition.  She  ordered  that  great 
care  should  be  taken  of  their  religious  instruction  ; 
that  they  should  be  treated  with  the  utmost  kind- 
ness ;  and  enjoined  Columbus  to  inflict  signal 
punishment  on  all  Spaniards  who  should  be  guilty 
of  outrage  or  injustice  toward  them. 

By  way,  it  was  said,  of  offering  to  Heaven  the 
first-fruits  of  these  pagan  nations,  the  six  Indians 
whom  Columbus  had  brought  to  Barcelona  were 
baptized  with  great  state  and  ceremony  ;  the  king, 
the  queen,  and  Prince  Juan  officiating  as  sponsors. 
Great  hopes  were  entertained  that,  on  their  return 
to  their  native  country,  they  would  facilitate  the 
introduction  of  Christianity  among  their  country- 
men. One  of  them,  at  the  request  of  Prince  Juan, 
remained  in  his  household,  but  died  not  long  after- 
ward ;  a  Spanish  historian  remarked  that,  accord- 
ing to  what  ought  to  be  our  pious  belief,  he  was 
the  first  of  his  nation  that  entered  heaven.* 

Before  the  departure  of  Columbus  from  Barce- 
lona, the  provisional  agreement  made  at  Santa  Fe" 
was  confirmed,  granting  him  the  titles,  emolu- 
ments, and  prerogatives  of  admiral,  viceroy,  and 
governor  of  all  the  countries  he  had  discovered,  or 
might  discover.  He  was  intrusted  also  with  the 
royal  seal,  with  authority  to  use  the  name  of  their 
majesties  in  granting  letters  patent  and  commis- 
sions within  the  bounds  of  his  jurisdiction  ;  with 
the  right  also,  in  case  of  absence,  to  appoint  a 
person  in  his  place,  and  to  invest  him,  for  the 
time,  with  the  same  powers. 

It  had  been  premised  in  the  agreement  that  for 
all  vacant  offices  in  the  government  of  the  islands 
and  main-land,  He  should  nominate  three  candi- 
dates, out  of  which  number  the  sovereign  should 
make  a  choice  ;  but  now,  to  save  time,  and  to 
show  their  confidence  in  Columbus,  they  empow- 
ered him  to  appoint  at  once  such  persons  as  he 
thought  proper,  who  were  to  hold  their  offices  dur- 
ing the  royal  pleasure.  He  had  likewise  the  title 
and  command  of  captain-general  of  the  armament 
about  to  sail,  with  unqualified  powers  as  to  the 
government  of  the  crews,  the  establishments  to  be 
formed  in  the  New  World,  and  the  ulterior  dis- 
coveries to  be  undertaken. 

This  was  the  honeymoon  of  royal  favor,  during 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  5, 


76 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


which  Columbus  enjoyed  the  unbounded  and  well- 
merited  confidence  of  his  sovereigns,  before  envi- 
ous minds  had  dared  to  insinuate  a  doubt  of  his 
integrity.  After  receiving  every  mark  of  public 
honor  and  private  regard,  he  took  leave  of  the  sov- 
ereigns on  the  28th  of  May.  The  whole  court  ac- 
companied him  from  the  palace  to  his  dwelling, 
and  attended,  also,  to  pay  him  farewell  honors  on 
his  departure  from  Barcelona  for  Seville. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DIPLOMATIC  NEGOTIATIONS  BETWEEN  THE 
COURTS  OF  SPAIN  AND  PORTUGAL  WITH  RE- 
SPECT TO  THE  NEW  DISCOVERIES. 

[I493-] 

THE  anxiety  of  the  Spanish  monarchy  for  the 
speedy  departure  of  the  expedition  was  heightened 
by  the  proceedings  of  the  court  of  Portugal.  John 
II.  had  unfortunately  among  his  councillors  certain 
politicians  of  that  short-sighted  class,  who  mis- 
take craft  for  wisdom.  By  adopting  their  perfidi- 
ous policy  he  had  lost  the  New  World  when  it  was 
an  object  of  honorable  enterprise  ;  in  compliance 
with  their  advice,  he  now  sought  to  retrieve  it  by 
stratagem.  He  had  accordingly  prepared  a  large 
armament,  the  avowed  object  of  which  was  an  ex- 
pedition to  Africa,  but  its  real  destination  to  seize 
upon  the  newly-discovered  countries.  To  lull 
suspicion,  Don  Ruy  de  Sande  was  sent  ambassa- 
dor to  the  Spanish  court,  requesting  permission  to 
procure  certain  prohibited  articles  from  Spain  for 
'  this  African  voyage.  He  required  also  that  the 
Spanish  sovereigns  should  forbid  their  subjects  to 
fish  beyond  Cape  Bojador,  until  the  possessions  of 
the  two  nations  should  be  properly  defined.  The 
discovery  of  Columbus,  the  real  object  of  solici- 
tude, was  treated  as  an  incidental  affair.  The 
manner  of  his  arrival  and  reception  in  Portugal 
was  mentioned  ;  the  congratulations  of  King  John 
on  the  happy  result  of  his  voyage  ;  his  satisfaction 
•at  finding  that  the  admiral  had  been  instructed  to 
steer  westward  from  the  Canary  Islands,  and  his 
hope  that  the  Castilian  sovereigns  would  continue 
to  enjoin  a  similar  track  on  their  navigators — all 
to  the  south  of  those  islands  being  granted  by  pa- 

Eal  bull  to  the  crown  of  Portugal.  He  concluded 
y  intimating  the  entire  confidence  of  King  John, 
that  should  any  of  the  newly-discovered  islands 
appertain  by  right  to  Portugal,  the  matter  would 
be  adjusted  in  that  spirit  of  amity  which  existed 
between  the  two  crowns. 

Ferdinand  was  too  wary  a  politician  to  be  easi- 
ly deceived.  He  had  received  early  intelligence 
of  the  real  designs  of  King  John,  and  before  the 
arrival  of  his  ambassador  had  himself  dispatched 
Don  Lope  de  Herrera  to  the  Portuguese  court, 
furnished  with  double  instructions,  and  with  two 
letters  of  widely  opposite  tenor.  The  first  was 
couched  in  affectionate  terms,  acknowledging  the 
hospitality  and  kindness  shown  to  Columbus,  and 
communicating  the  nature  of  his  discoveries  ;  re- 
questing at  the  same  time  that  the  Portuguese 
navigators  might  be  prohibited  from  visiting  those 
newly-discovered  lands,  in  the  same  manner  that 
the  Spanish  sovereigns  had  prohibited  their  sub- 
jects from  interfering  with  the  African  posses- 
sions of  Portugal. 

In  case,  however,  the  ambassador  should  find 
that  King  John  had  either  sent,  or  was  about  to 
send,  vessels  to  the  New  World,  he  was  to  with- 
hold the  amicable  letter,  and  present  the  other, 


couched  in  stern  and  peremptory  terms,  and  for- 
bidding any  enterprise  of  the  kind.*  A  keen  dip- 
lomatic game  ensued  between  the  two  sovereigns, 
perplexing  to  any  spectator  not  acquainted  with 
the  secret  of  their  play.  Resende,  in  his  history 
of  King  John  II.,  informs  us  that  the  Portuguese 
monarch,  by  large  presents,  or  rather  bribes,  held 
certain  of  the  confidential  members  of  the  Castil- 
ian cabinet  in  his  interest,  who  informed  him  of 
the  most  secret  councils  of  their  court..  The 
roads  were  thronged  with  couriers  ;  scarce  was 
an  intention  expressed  by  Ferdinand  to  his  minis- 
ters, but  it  was  conveyed  to  his  rival  monarch. 
The  result  was  that  the  Spanish  sovereigns  seemed 
as  if  under  the  influence  of  some  enchantment. 
King  John  anticipated  all  their  movements,  and 
appeared  to  dive  into  their  very  thoughts.  Their 
ambassadors  were  crossed  on  the  road  by  Portu- 
guese ambassadors,  empowered  to  settle  the  very 
points  about  which  they  were  going  to  make  re- 
monstrances. Frequently,  when  Ferdinand  pro- 
posed a  sudden  and  perplexing  question  to  the  en- 
voys at  his  court,  which  apparently  would  require 
fresh  instructions  from  the  sovereigns,  he  would 
be  astonished  by  a  prompt  and  positive  reply  ; 
most  of  the  questions  which  were  likely  to  occur 
having,  through  secret  information,  been  foreseen 
and  provided  for.  As  a  surmise  of  treachery  in  the 
cabinet  might  naturally  arise,  King  John,  while 
he  rewarded  his  agents  in  secret,  endeavored  to 
divert  suspicions  from  them  upon  others,  making 
rich  presents  of  jewels  to  the  Duke  de  Infantado 
and  other  Spanish  grandees  of  incorruptible  in- 
tegrity, f 

Such  is  the  intriguing  diplomatic  craft  which 
too  often  passes  for  refined  policy,  and  is  extolled 
as  the  wisdom  of  the  cabinet ;  but  all  corrupt  and 
disingenuous  measures  are  unworthy  of  an  en- 
lightened politician  and  a  magnanimous  prince. 
The  grand  principles  of  right  and  wrong  operate 
in  the  same  way  between  nations  as  between  in- 
dividuals ;  fair  and  open  conduct,  and  inviolable 
faith,  however  they  may  appear  adverse  to  present 
purposes,  are  the  only  kind  of  policy  that  will  in- 
sure ultimate  and  honorable  success. 

King  John,  having  received  intelligence  in  the 
furtive  manner  that  has  been  mentioned,  of  the 
double  instructions  furnished  to  Don  Lope  de 
Herrera,  received  him  in  such  a  manner  as  to  pre- 
vent any  resort  to  his  peremptory  letter.  He  had 
already  dispatched  an  extra  envoy  to  the  Spanish 
court  to  keep  it  in  good  humor,  and  he  now  ap- 
pointed Doctor  Pero  Diaz  and  Don  Ruy  de  Pena 
ambassadors  to  the  Spanish  sovereigns,  to  adjust 
all  questions  relative  to  the  new  discoveries,  and 
promised  that  no  vessel  should  be  permitted  to 
sail  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  within  sixty  days 
after  their  arrival  at  Barcelona. 

These  ambassadors  were  instructed  to  propose, 
as  a  mode  of  effectually  settling  ail  claims,  that  a 
line  should  be  drawn  from  the  Canaries  due  west ; 
all  lands  and  seas  north  of  it  to  appertain  to  the 
Castilian  court  ;  all  south  to  the  crown  of  Portu- 
gal, excepting  any  islands  already  in  possession  of 
either  powers.  J 

Ferdinand  had  now  the  vantage-ground  ;  his 
object  was  to  gain  time  for  the  preparation  and 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  jib.  ii.  Zurita, 
Anales  de  Aragon,  lib.  i.  cap.  25. 

f  Resende,  Vida  del  Key  Dom  Joam  II.,  cap.  157. 
Faria  y  Souza,  Europa  Portuguesa,  torn.  ii.  cap.  4, 

P-  3- 

\  Zurita,  lib.  i.  cap.  25.  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii. 
cap.  5. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


77 


departure  of  Columbus,  by  entangling  King  John 
in  long  diplomatic  negotiations.*  In  reply  to  his 
proposals,  he  dispatched  Don  Pedro  de  Ayala  and 
Don  Garcia  Lopez  de  Caravajal  on  a  solemn  em- 
bassy to  Portugal,  in  which  there  was  great  out- 
ward pomp  and  parade,  and  many  professions  of 
amity,  but  the  whole  purport  of  which  was  to  pro- 
pose to  submit  the  territorial  questions  which  had 
risen  between  them  to  arbitration  or  to  the  court 
of  Rome.  This  stately  embassy  moved  with  be- 
coming slowness,  but  a  special  envoy  was  sent  in 
advance  to  apprise  the  king  of  Portugal  of  its  ap- 
proach, in  order  to  keep  him  waiting  for  its  com- 
munications. 

King  John  understood  the  whole  nature  and  ob- 
ject of  the  embassy,  and  felt  that  Ferdinand  was 
foiling  him.  The  ambassadors  at  length  arrived, 
and  delivered  their  credentials  with  great  form 
and  ceremony.  As  they  retired  from  his  pres- 
ence, he  looked  after  them  contemptuously : 
"  This  embassy  from  our  cousin,"  said  he, 
"  wants  both  head  and  feet."  He  alluded  to  the 
character  both  of  the  mission  and  the  envoys. 
Don  Garcia  de  Caravajal  was  vain  and  frivolous, 
and  Don  Pedro  de  Ayala  was  lame  of  one  leg.f 

In  the  height  of  his  vexation,  King  John  is  even 
said  to  have  held  out  some  vague  show  of  hostile 
intentions,  taking  occasion  to  let  the  ambassadors 
discover  him  reviewing  his  cavalry  and  dropping 
ambiguous  words  in  their  hearing,  which  might 
be  construed  into  something  of  menacing  import.J 
The  embassy  returned  to  Castile,  leaving  him  in 
a  state  of  perplexity  and  irritation  ;  but  whatever 
might  be  his  chagrin,  his  discretion  prevented 
him  from  coming  to  an  open  rupture.  He  had 
some  hopes  of  interference  on  the  part  of  the 
pope,  to  whom  he  had  sent  an  embassy,  complain- 
ing of  the  pretended  discoveries  of  the  Spaniards, 
as  infringing  the  territories  granted  to  Portugal 
by  papal  bull,  and  earnestly  imploring  redress. 
Here,  as  has  been  shown,  his  wary  antagonist  had 
been  beforehand  with  him,  and  he  was  doomed 
again  to  be  foiled.  The  only  reply  his  ambassa- 
dor received,  was  a  reference  to  the  line  of  parti- 
tion from  pole  to  pole,  so  sagely  devised  by  his 
holiness. \  Such  was  this  royal  game  of  diplo- 
macy, where  the  parties  were  playing  for  a  newly- 
discovered  world.  John  II.  was  able  and  intelli- 
gent, and  had  crafty  councillors  to  advise  him  in 
all  his  moves  ;  but  whenever  deep  and  subtle 
policy  was  required,  Ferdinand  was  master  of  the 
game. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FURTHER  PREPARATIONS  FOR  THE  SECOND 
VOYAGE — CHARACTER  OF  ALONSO  DE  OJEDA 
— DIFFERENCE  OF  COLUMBUS  WITH  SORIA  AND 
FONSECA. 

[i  493-] 

DISTRUSTFUL  of  some  attempt  on  the  part  of 
Portugal  to  interfere  with  their  discoveries,  the 
Spanish  sovereigns,  in  the  course  of  their  negotia- 
tions, wrote  repeatedly  to  Columbus,  urging  him 
to  hasten  his  departure.  His  zeal,  however,  need- 
ed no  incitement  ;  immediately  on  arriving  at  Se- 


*  Vasconcelos,  Don  Juan  II.,  lib.  vi. 
f  Vasconcelos,  lib.  vi.    Barros,  Asia,  d.  i.,  lib.  Hi. 
cap.  2. 

\  Vasconcelos,  lib.  vi. 

§  Herrera,  decad.  i.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  5. 


ville,  in  the  beginning  of  June,  he  proceeded  with 
all  diligence  to  fit  out  the  armament,  making  use 
of  the  powers  given  him  to  put  in  requisition  the 
ships  and  crews  which  were  in  the  harbors  of 
Andalusia.  He  was  joined  soon  after  by  Fonseca 
and  Soria,  who  had  remained  for  a  time  at  Barce- 
lona ;  and  with  their  united  exertions,  a  fleet  of 
seventeen  vessels,  large  and  small,  was  soon  in  a 
state  of  preparation.  The  best  pilots  were  chosen 
for  the  service,  and  the  crews  were  mustered  in 
presence  of  Soria  the  comptroller.  A  number  of 
skilful  husbandmen,  miners,  carpenters,  and  other 
mechanics  were  engaged  for  the  projected  colony. 
Horses, both  for  military  purposes  and  for  stocking 
the  country,  cattle,  and  domestic  animals  of  all 
kinds,  were  likewise  provided.  Grain,  seeds  of  vari- 
ous plants, vines,  sugar-canes,  grafts,  and  saplings, 
were  embarked,  together  with  a  great  quantity  of 
merchandise,  consisting  of  trinkets,  beads,  hawks' 
bells,  looking-glasses,  and  other  showy  trifles, 
calculated  for  trafficking  with  the  natives.  Nor 
was  there  wanting  an  abundant  supply  of  provi- 
sions of  all  sorts,  munitions  of  war,  and  medicines 
and  refreshments  for  the  sick. 

An  extraordinary  degree  of  excitement  prevailed 
respecting  this  expedition.  The  most  extravagant 
fancies  were  entertained  with  respect  to  the  New 
World.  The  accounts  given  by  the  voyagers  who 
had  visited  it  were  full  of  exaggeration  ;  for  in  fact 
they  had  nothing  but  vague  and  confused  notions 
concerning  it,  like  the  recollection  of  a  dream, 
and  it  has  been  shown  that  Columbus  himself  had 
beheld  everything  through  the  most  delusive  me- 
dium. The  vivacity  of  his  descriptions,  and  the 
sanguine  anticipations  of  his  ardent  spirit,  while 
they  roused  the  public  to  a  wonderful  degree  oj: 
enthusiasm,  prepared  the  way  for  bitter  disap- 
pointment. The  cupidity  of  the  avaricious  was 
inflamed  with  the  idea  of  regions  of  unappropri- 
ated wealth,  where  the  rivers  rolled  over  golden 
sands,  and  the  mountains  teemed  with  gems  and 
precious  metals  ;  where  the  groves  produced 
spices  and  perfumes,  and  the  shores  of  the  ocean 
were  sown  with  pearl.  Others  had  conceived  vis- 
ions of  a  loftier  kind.  It  was  a  romantic  and  stir- 
ring age,  and  the  wars  with  the  Moors  being  over, 
and  hostilities  with  the  French  suspended,  the 
bold  and  restless  spirits  of  the  nation,  impatient  of 
the  monotony  of  peaceful  life,  were  eager  for  em- 
ployment. To  these  the  New  World  presented  a 
vast  field  for  wild  enterprise  and  extraordinary  ad- 
venture, so  congenial  to  the  Spanish  character  in 
that  period  of  its  meridian  fervor  and  brilliancy. 
Many  hidalgos  of  high  rank,  officers  of  the  royal 
household,  and  Andalusian  cavaliers,  schooled  in 
arms,  and  inspired  with  a  passion  for  hardy 
achievements  by  the  romantic  wars  of  Granada, 
pressed  into  the  expedition,  some  in  the  royal  ser- 
vice, others  at  their  own  cost.  To  them  it  was  the 
commencement  of  a  new  series  of  crusades,  sur- 
passing in  extent  and  splendor  the  chivalrous  en- 
terprises to  the  Holy  Land.  They  pictured  to 
themselves  vast  and  beautiful  islands  of  the  ocean 
to  be  overrun  and  subdued  ;  their  internal  won- 
ders to  be  explored,  and  the  banner  of  the  cross 
to  be  planted  on  the  walls  of  the  cities  they  were 
supposed  to  contain.  Thence  they  were  to  make 
their  way  to  the  shores  of  India,  or  rather  Asia, 
penetrate  into  Mangi  and  Cathay,  convert,  or  what 
was  the  same  thing,  conquer  the  Grand  Khan, 
and  thus  open  a  glorious  career  of  arms  among  the 
splendid  countries  and  semi-barbarous  nations  of 
the  East.  Thus,  no  one  had  any  definite  idea  of 
the  object  or  nature  of  the  service  on  which  he 
was  embarking,  or  the  situation  and  character  of 


78 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


the  region  to  which  he  was  bound.  Indeed,  dur- 
ing this  fever  of  the  imagination,  had  sober  facts 
and  cold  realities  been  presented,  they  would  have 
been  rejected  with  disdain  ;  for  there  is  nothing 
of  which  the  public  is  more  impatient  than  of  be- 
ing disturbed  in  the  indulgence  of  any  of  its  gold- 
en dreams. 

Among  the  noted  personages  who  engaged  in 
the  expedition  was  a  young  cavalier  of  the  name 
of  Don  Alonso  de  Ojeda,  celebrated  for  his  ex- 
traordinary personal  endowments  and  his  daring 
spirit  ;  and  who  distinguished  himself  among  the 
early  discoverers  by  many  perilous  expeditions 
and  singular  exploits.  He  was  of  a  good  family, 
cousin-german  to  the  venerable  Father  Alonso  de 
Ojeda,  Inquisitor  of  Spain  ;  had  been  brought  up 
under  the  patronage  of  the  Duke  of  Medina  Celi, 
and  had  served  in  the  wars  against  the  Moors. 
He  was  of  small  stature,  but  vigorous  make,  well 
proportioned,  dark  complexioned,  of  handsome, 
animated  countenance,  and  incredible  strength 
and  agility.  Expert  at  all  kinds  of  weapons,  ac- 
complished in  all  manly  and  warlike  exercises,  an 
admirable  horseman,  and  a  partisan  soldier  of  the 
highest  order  ;  bold  of  heart,  free  of  spirit,  open 
of  hand  ;  fierce  in  fight,  quick  in  brawl,  but 
ready  to  forgive  and  prone  to  forget  an  injury  ;  he 
was  for  a  long  time  the  idol  of  the  rash  and  roving 
youth  who  engaged  in  the  early  expeditions  to  the 
New  World,  and  has  been  made  the  hero  of  many 
wonderful  tales.  On  introducing  him  to  histori- 
cal notice,  Las  Casas  gives  an  anecdote  of  one  of 
his  exploits,  which  would  be  unworthy  of  record, 
but  that  it  exhibits  the  singular  character  of  the 
man. 

„  Queen  Isabella  being  in  the  tower  of  the  cathe- 
dral of  Seville,  better  known  as  the  Giralda,  Oje- 
da, to  entertain  her  majesty,  and  to  give  proofs  of 
his  courage  and  agility,  mounted  on  a  great  beam 
which  projected  in  the  air,  twenty  feet  from  the 
tower,  at  such  an  immense  height  from  the 
ground,  that  the  people  below  looked  like  dwarfs, 
and  it  was  enough  to  make  Ojeda  himself  shud- 
der to  look  down.  Along  this  beam  he  walked 
briskly,  and  with  as  much  confidence  as  though 
he  had  been  pacing  his  chamber.  When  arrived 
at  the  end,  he  stood  on  one  leg,  lifting  the  other 
in  the  air  ;  then  turning  nimbly  round,  he  return- 
ed in  the  same  way  to  the  tower,  unaffected  by 
the  giddy  height,  whence  the  least  false  step 
would  have  precipitated  him  and  dashed  him  to 
pieces.  He  afterward  stood  with  one  foot  on  the 
beam,  and  placing  the  other  against  the  wall  of 
the  building,  threw  an  orange  to  the  summit  of 
the  tower,  a  proof,  says  Las  Casas,  of  immense 
muscular  strength.  Such  was  Alonso  de  Ojeda, 
who  soon  became  conspicuous  among  the  follow- 
ers of  Columbus,  and  was  always  foremost  in 
every  enterprise  of  an  adventurous  nature  ;  who 
courted  peril  as  if  for  the  very  love  of  danger,  and 
seemed  to  fight  more  for  the  pleasure  of  fighting 
than  for  the  sake  of  distinction.* 

The  number  of  persons  permitted  to  embark  in 
the  expedition  had  been  limited  to  one  thousand  ; 
but  such  was  the  urgent  application  of  volunteers 
to  be  allowed  to  enlist  without  pay,  that  the  num- 
ber had  increased  to  twelve  hundred.  Many  more 
were  refused  for  want  of  room  in  the  ships  for 
their  accommodation,  but  some  contrived  to  get 
admitted  by  stealth,  so  that  eventually  about  fif- 
teen hundred  set  sail  in  the  fleet.  As  Columbus, 
in  his  laudable  zeal  for  the  welfare  of  the  enter- 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.,MS.     Pizarro,  Varones  Illustres. 
Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.f  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  5. 


prise,  provided  everything  that  might  be  necessary 
in  various  possible  emergencies,  the  expenses  of 
the  outfit  exceeded  what  had  been  anticipated. 
This  gave  rise  to  occasional  demurs  on  the  part  of 
the  comptroller,  Juan  de  Soria,  who  sometimes  re- 
fused to  sign  the  accounts  of  the  admiral,  and  in 
the  course  of  their  transactions  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  the  deference  due  both  to  his  character 
and  station.  For  this  he  received  repeated  and 
severe  reprimands  from  the  sovereigns,  who  em- 
phatically commanded  that  Columbus  should  be 
treated  with  the  greatest  respect,  and  everything 
done  to  facilitate  his  plans  and  yield  him  satisfac- 
tion. From  similar  injunctions  inserted  in  the 
royal  letters  to  Fonseca,  the  archdeacon  of  Seville, 
it  is  probable  that  he  also  had  occasionally  in- 
dulged in  the  captious  exercise  of  his  official 
powers.  He  appears  to  have  demurred  to  various 
requisitions  of  Columbus,  particularly  one  for  foot- 
men and  other  domestics  for  his  immediate  ser- 
vice, to  form  his  household  and  retinue  as  admiral 
and  viceroy  ;  a  demand  which  was  considered 
superfluous  by  the  prelate,  as  all  who  embarked 
in  the  expedition  were  at  his  command.  In  reply, 
the  sovereigns  ordered  that  he  should  be  allowed 
ten  escudcros  de  a  pie,  or  footmen,  and  twenty 
persons  in  other  domestic  capacities,  and  remind- 
ed Fonseca  of  their  charge  that,  both  in  the  nature 
and  mode  of  his  transactions  with  the  admiral,  he 
should  study  to  give  him  content  ;  observing  that, 
as  the  whole  armament  was  intrusted  to  his  com- 
mand, it  was  but  reasonable  that  his  wishes  should 
be  consulted,  and  no  one  embarrass  him  with 
punctilios  and  difficulties.* 

These  trivial  differences  are  worthy  of  particular 
notice,  from  the  effect  they  appear  to  have  had  on 
the  mind  of  Fonseca,  for  from  them  we  must  date 
the  rise  of  that  singular  hostility  which  he  ever 
afterward  manifested  toward  Columbus  ;  which 
every  year  increased  in  rancor,  and  which  he 
gratified  in  the  most  invidious  manner,  by  secret- 
ly multiplying  impediments  and  vexations  in  his 
path. 

While  the  expedition  was  yet  lingering  in  port, 
intelligence  was  received  that  a  Portuguese  cara- 
vel had  set  sail  from  Madeira  and  steered  for  the 
west.  Suspicions  were  immediately  awakened 
that  she  was  bound  for  the  lately-discovered  lands. 
Columbus  wrote  an  account  of  it  to  the  sover- 
eigns, and  proposed  to  dispatch  a  part  of  his  fleet 
in  pursuit  of  her.  His  proposition  was  approved, 
but  not  carried  into  effect.  On  remonstrances 
being  made  to  the  court  of  Lisbon,  King  John  de- 
clared that  the  vessel  had  sailed  without  his  per- 
mission, and  that  he  would  send  three  caravels  to 
bring  her  back.  This  only  served  to  increase  the 
jealousy  of  the  Spanish  monarchs,  who  considered 
the  whole  a  deep-laid  stratagem,  and  that  it  was 
intended  the  vessels  should  join  their  forces,  and 
pursue  their  course  together  to  the  New  World. 
Columbus  was  urged,  therefore,  to  depart  without 
an  hour's  delay,  and  instructed  to  steer  wide  of 
Cape  St.  Vincent,  and  entirely  avoid  the  Portu- 
guese coasts  and  islands,  for  fear  of  molestation. 
If  he  met  with  any  vessels  in  the  seas  he  had  ex- 
plored, he  was  to  seize  them,  and  inflict  rigorous 
punishment  on  the  crews.  Fonseca  was  also  or- 
dered to  be  on  the  alert,  and  in  case  any  expedi- 
tion sailed  from  Portugal  to  send  double  the  force 
after  it.  These  precautions,  however,  proved  un- 
necessary. Whether  such  caravels  actually  did 
sail,  and  whether  they  were  sent  with  sinister 


*  Navarrete,    Colec.,  torn.   ii.      Documentos,  No. 
62-66. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


motives  by  Portugal,  does  not  appear  ;  nothing 
was  either  seen  or  heard  of  them  by  Columbus  in 
the  course  of  his  voyage. 

It  may  be  as  well,  for  the  sake  of  distinctness,  to 
anticipate,  in  this  place,  the  regular  course  of  his- 
tory, and  mention  the  manner  in  which  this  terri- 
torial question  was  finally  settled  between  the 
rival  sovereigns.  It  was  impossible  for  King  John 
to  repress  his  disquiet  at  the  indefinite  enterprises 
of  the  Spanish  monarchs  ;  he  did  not  know  how 
far  they  might  extend,  and  whether  they  might 
not  forestall  him  in  all  his  anticipated  discoveries 
in  India.  Finding,  however,  all  attempts  fruitless 
to  gain  by  stratagem  an  advantage  over  his  wary 
and  skilful  antagonist,  and  despairing  of  any  fur- 
ther assistance  from  the  court  of  Rome,  he  had 
recourse,  at  last,  to  fair  and  amicable  negotiations, 
and  found,  as  is  generally  the  case  with  those  who 
turn  aside  into  the  inviting  but  crooked  paths  of 
craft,  that  had  he  kept  to  the  line  of  frank  and  open 
policy,  he  would  have  saved  himself  a  world  of 
perplexity,  and  have  arrived  sooner  at  his  object. 
He  offered  to  leave  to  the  Spanish  sovereigns  the 
free  prosecution  of  their  western  discovery,  and 
to  conform  to  the  plan  of  partition  by  a  meridian 
line  ;  but  he  represented  that  this  line  had  not  been 
drawn  far  enough  to  the  west  ;  that  while  it  left 
the  wide  ocean  free  to  the  range  of  Spanish  enter- 
prise, his  navigators  could  not  venture  more  than 
a  hundred  leagues  west  of  his  possessions,  and 
'had  no  scope  or  sea-room  for  their  southern  voy- 
ages. 

After  much  difficulty  and  discussion,  this  mo- 
mentous dispute  was  adjusted  by  deputies  from 


the  two  crowns,  who  met  at  Tordesillas  in  Old 
Castile,  in  the  following  year,  and  on  the  yth  of 
June,  1494,  signed  a  treaty  by  which  the  papal  line 
of  partition  was  moved  to  three  hundred  and 
seventy  leagues  west  of  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands. 
It  was  agreed  that  within  six  months  an  equal 
number  of  caravels  and  mariners,  on  the  part  of 
the  two  nations,  should  rendezvous  at  the  island 
of  the  Grand  Canary,  provided  with  men  learned 
in  astronomy  and  navigation.  They  were  to  pro- 
ceed thence  to  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands,  and 
thence  westward  three  hundred  and  seventy 
leagues,  and  determine  the  proposed  line  from 
pole  to  pole,  dividing  the  ocean  between  the  two 
nations.*  Each  of  the  two  powers  engaged  sol- 
emnly to  observe  the  bounds  thus  prescribed, 
and  to  prosecute  no  enterprise  beyond  its  proper 
limits  ;  though  it  was  agreed  that  the  Spanish 
navigators  might  traverse  freely  the  eastern  parts 
of  the  ocean  in  prosecuting  their  rightful  voyages. 
Various  circumstances  impeded  the  proposed  ex- 
pedition to  determine  the  line,  but  the  treaty  re- 
mained in  force,  and  prevented  all  further  discus- 
sions. 

Thus,  says  Vasconcelos,  this  great  question,  the 
greatest  ever  agitated  between  the  two  crowns,  for 
it  was  the  partition  of  a  new  world,  was  amicably 
settled  by  the  prudence  and  address  of  two  of  the 
most  politic  monarchs  that  ever  swayed  the  scep- 
tre. It  was  arranged  to  the  satisfaction  of  both 
parties,  each  holding  himself  entitled  to  the  vast 
countries  that  might  be  discovered  within  his 
boundary,  without  any  regard  to  the  rights  of  the 
native  inhabitants. 


BOOK  VI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEPARTURE   OF   COLUMBUS   ON   HIS   SECOND  VOY- 
AGE—DISCOVERY  OF  THE  CARIBBEE  ISLANDS. 

[I493-] 

THE  departure  of  Columbus  on  his  second  voy- 
age of  discovery  presented  a  brilliant  contrast  to 
his  gloomy  embarkation  at  Palos.  On  the  25th  of 
September,  at  the  dawn  of  day,  the  Bay  of  Cadiz 
was  whitened  by  his  fleet.  There  were  three  large 
ships  of  heavy  burden,*  and  fourteen  caravels, 
loitering  with  flapping  sails,  and  awaiting  the  sig- 
nal to  get  under  way.  The  harbor  resounded  with 
the  well-known  note  of  the  sailor,  hoisting  sail  or 
weighing  anchor  ;  a  motley  crowd  were  hurrying 
on  board,  and  taking  leave  of  their  friends  in  the 
confidence  of  a  prosperous  voyage  and  triumphant 
return.  There  was  the  high-spirited  cavalier, 
bound  on  romantic  enterprise  ;  the  hardy  navi- 

fator,  ambitious  of  acquiring  laurels  in  these  un- 
nown    seas  ;     the    roving    adventurer,    seeking 
novelty   and   excitement ;    the    keen,   calculating 
speculator,  eager  to  profit  by  the  ignorance  of  sav- 
age  tribes  ;    and   the   pale   missionary  from  the 


*  Peter  Martyr  says  they  were  carracks  (a  large 
species  of  merchant  vessel,  principally  used  in  coast- 
ing trade),  of  one  hundred  tons  burden,  and  that  two 
of  the  caravels  were  much  larger  than  the  rest,  and 
more  capable  of  bearing  decks  from  the  size  of  their 
masts. — Decad.  i.  lib.  i.  -  .... 


cloister,  anxious  to  extend  the  dominion  of  the 
church,  or  devoutly  zealous  for  the  propagation 
of  the  faith.  All  were  full  of  animation  and  lively 
hope.  Instead  of  being  regarded  by  the  populace 
as  devoted  men,  bound  upon  a  dark  and  desperate 
enterprise,  they  were  contemplated  with  envy,  as 
favored  mortals,  bound  to  golden  regions  and 
happy  climes,  where  nothing  but  wealth  and 
wonder  and  delights  awaited  them.  Columbus, 
conspicuous  for  his  height  and  his  commanding 
appearance,  was  attended  by  his  two  sons  Diego 
and  Fernando,  the  eldest  but  a  stripling,  who  had 
come  to  witness  his  departure,!  both  proud  of  the 
glory  of  their  father.  Wherever  he  passed,  every 
eye  followed  him  with  admiration,  and  every 
tongue  praised  and  blessed  him.  Before  sunrise 
the  whole  fleet  was  under  way  ;  the  weather  was 
serene  and  propitious,  and  as  the  populace  watched 
their  parting  sails  brightening  in  the  morning 
beams,  they  looked  forward  to  their  joyful  return 
laden  with  the  treasures  of  the  New  World. 

According  to  the  instructions  of  the  sovereigns, 
Columbus  steered  wide  of  the  coasts  of  Portugal 
and  of  its  islands,  standing  to  the  south-west  of  the 
Canaries,  where  he  arrived  on  the  1st  of  October. 
After  touching  at  the  Grand  Canary,  he  anchored 
on  the  5th  at  Gomera,  to  take  in  a  supply  of  wood 
and  water.  Here  also  he  purchased  calves,  goats, 


*  Zurita,  Hist,  del  Rey  Fernand.,  lib.  i.  cap.   29. 
Vasconcelos,  lib.  vi. 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  44. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


and  sheep,  to  stock  the  island  of  Hispaniola  ;  and 
eight  hogs,  from  which,  according  to  Las  Casas, 
the  infinite  number  of  swine  was  propagated,  with 
which  the  Spanish  settlements  in  the  New  World 
subsequently  abounded.  A  number  of  domestic 
fowls  were  likewise  purchased,  which  were  the 
origin  of  the  species  in  the  New  World  ;  and  the 
same  might  be  said  of  the  seeds  of  oranges', 
lemons,  bergamots,  melons,  and  various  orchard 
fruits,*  which  were  thus  first  introduced  into  the 
islands  of  the  west,  from  the  Hesperides  or  Fortu- 
nate Islands  of  the  Old  World.f 

On  the  7th,  when  about  to  sail,  Columbus  gave 
to  the  commander  of  each  vessel  a  sealed  letter  of 
instructions,  in  which  was  specified  his  route  to 
the  harbor  of  Nativity,  the  residence  of  the  cacique 
Guacanagari.  This  was  only  to  be  opened  in  case 
of  being  separated  by  accident,  as  he  wished  to 
make  a  mystery,  as  long  as  possible,  of  the  exact 
route  to  the  newly-discovered  country,  lest  adven- 
turers of  other  nations,  and  particularly  the  Por- 
tuguese, should  follow  in  his  track,  and  interfere 
with  his  enterprises.]; 

After  making  sail  from  Gomera,  they  were  be- 
calmed for  a  few  days  among  the  Canaries,  until, 
on  the  1 3th  of  October,  a  fair  breeze  sprang  up 
from  the  east,  which  soon  carried  them  out  of 
sight  of  the  island  of  Ferro.  Columbus  held  his 
course  to  the  south-west,  intending  to  keep  con- 
siderably more  to  the  southward  than  in  his  first 
voyage,  in  hopes  of  falling  in  with  the  islands  of 
the  Caribs,  of  which  he  had  received  such  vague 
and  wonderful  accounts  from  the  Indians. $  Being 
in  the  region  of  the  trade-winds,  the  breeze  con- 
tinued fair  and  steady,  with  a  quiet  sea  and  pleas- 
ant weather,  and  by  the  24th  they  had  made  four 
hundred  and  fifty  leagues  west  of  Gomera,  without 
seeing  any  of  those  fields  of  sea-weeds  encoun- 
tered within  a  much  less  distance  on  their  first 
voyage.  At  that  time  their  appearance  was  im- 
portant, and  almost  providential,  inspiring  con- 
tinual hope,  and  enticing  them  forward  in  their 
dubious  enterprise.  Now  they  needed  no  such 
signals,  being  full  of  confidence  and  lively  antici- 
pation, and  on  seeing  a  swallow  circling  about 
the  ships,  and  being  visited  occasionally  by  sud- 
den showers,  they  began  to  look  out  cheerily  for 
land. 

Toward  the  latter  part  of  October  they  had  in 
the  night  a  gust  of  heavy  rain,  accompanied  by 
the  severe  thunder  and  lightning  of  the  tropics. 
It  lasted  for  four  hours,  and  they  considered  them- 
selves in  much  peril,  until  they  beheld  several  of 
those  lambent  flames  playing  about  the  tops  of  the 
masts,  and  gliding  along  the  rigging,  which  have 
always  been  objects  of  superstitious  fancies  among 
sailors.  Fernando  Columbus  makes  remarks  on 
them  strongly  characteristic  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived.  "  On  the  same  Saturday,  in  the  night, 
was  seen  St.  Elmo,  with  seven  lighted  tapers 
at  the  topmast :  there  was  much  rain  and 
great  thunder ;  I  mean  to  say,  that  those  lights 
were  seen,  which  mariners  affirm  to  be  the  body 
of  St.  Elmo,  on  beholding  which  they  chant 
litanies  and  orisons,  holding  it  for  certain,  that  in 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  83. 

f  Humboldt  is  of  opinion  that  there  were  wild 
oranges,  small  and  bitter,  as  well  as  wild  lemons,  in 
the  New  World,  prior  to  the  discovery.  Caldcleugh 
a-lso  mentions  that  the  Brazilians  consider  the  small 
bitter  wild  orange  of  native  origin. — Humboldt,  Essai 
Politique  sur  1'Isle  de  Cuba,  torn.  i.  p.  68. 

i  Las  Casas,  M.  Sup. 

§  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca. 


the  tempest  in  which  he  appears,  no  one  is  in  dan- 
ger.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  leave  the  matter  to 
them  ;  but  if  we  may  believe  Pliny,  similar  lights 
have  sometimes  appeared  to  the  Roman  mariners 
during  tempests  at  sea,  which  they  said  were  Cas- 
tor and  Pollux,  of  which  likewise  Seneca  makes 
mention."* 

On  the  evening  of  Saturday,  the  2d  of  Novem- 
ber, Columbus  was  convinced,  from  the  color  of 
the  sea,  the  nature  of  the  waves,  and  the  variable 
winds  and  frequent  showers,  that  they  must  be 
near  to  land  ;  he  gave  orders,  therefore,  to  take  in 
sail,  and  to  maintain  a  vigilant  watch  throughout 
the  night.  He  had  judged  with  his  usual  sagacity. 
In  the  morning  a  lofty  island  was  descried  to  the 
west,  at  the  sight  of  which  there  were  shouts  of 
joy  throughout  the  fleet.  Columbus  gave  to  the 
island  the  name  of  Dominica,  from  having  discov- 
ered it  on  Sunday.  As  the  ships  moved  gently 
onward,  other  islands  rose  to  sight,  covered  with 
forests,  while  flights  of  parrots  and  other  tropi- 
cal birds  passed  from  one  to  the  other. 

The  crews  were  now  assembled  on  the  decks  of 
the  several  ships,  to  return  thanks  to  God  for  their 
prosperous  voyage,  and  their  happy  discovery  of 
land,  chanting  the  Salve  Regina  and  other  an- 
thems. Such  was  the  solemn  manner  in  which 
Columbus  celebrated  all  his  discoveries,  and 
which,  in  fact,  was  generally  observed  by  the 
Spanish  and  Portuguese  voyagers. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TRANSACTIONS   AT  THE  ISLAND   OF  GUADA- 
LOUPE. 

[1493-] 

THE  islands  among  which  Columbus  had  ar- 
rived were  a  part  of  that  beautiful  cluster  called 
by  some  the  Antilles,  which  sweep  almost  in  a 
semicircle  from  the  eastern  end  of  Porto  Rico  to 
the  coast  of  Paria  on  the  southern  continent,  form- 
ing a  kind  of  barrier  between  the  main  ocean  and 
the  Caribbean  Sea. 

During  the  first  day  that  he  entered  this  archi- 
pelago, Columbus  saw  no  less  than  six  islands  of 
different  magnitude.  They  were  clothed  in  tropi- 
cal vegetation,  and  the  breezes  from  them  were 
sweetened  by  the  fragrance  of  their  forests. 

After  seeking  in  vain  for  good  anchorage  at 
Dominica,  he  stood  for  another  of  the  group,  to 
which  he  gave  the  name  of  his  ship,  Marigalante. 
Here  he  landed,  displayed  the  royal  banner,  and 
took  possession  of  the  archipelago  in  the  name  of 
his  sovereigns.  The  island  appeared  to  be  unin- 
habited ;  a  rich  and  dense  forest  overspread  it  ; 
some  of  the  trees  were  in  blossom,  others  laden 
with  unknown  fruits,  others  possessing  spicy 
odors — among  which  was  one  with  the  leaf  of  the 
laurel  and  the  fragrance  of  the  clove. 

Hence  they  made  sail  for  an  island  of  larger 
size,  with  a  remarkable  mountain  ;  one  peak. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  45.  A  similar  mention 
is  made  of  this  nautical  superstition  in  the  voyage  of 
Magellan.  "  During  these  great  storms,  they  said 
that  St.  Elmo  appeared  at  the  topmast  with  a  lighted 
candle,  and  sometimes  with  two,  upon  which  the 
people  shed  tears  of  joy,  receiving  great  consolation, 
and  saluted  him  according  to  the  custom  of  mariners. 
He  remained  visible  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and 
then  disappeared,  with  a  great  flash  of  lightning, 
which  blinded  the  people." — Herrera,  decad.  ii.  lib. 
iv.  cap.  10. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


81 


which  proved  afterward  to  be  the  crater  of  a  vol- 
cano, rose  to  a  great  height,  with  streams  of  water 
gushing  from  it.  As  they  approached  within 
three  leagues  they  beheld  a  cataract  of  such 
height  that,  to  use  the  words  of  the  narrator,  it 
seemed  to  be  falling  from  the  sky.  As  it  broke  into 
foam  in  its  descent,  many  at  first  believed  it  to  be 
merely  a  stratum  of  white  rock.*  To  this  island, 
which  was  called  by  the  Indians  Turuqueira.f  the 
admiral  gave  the  name  of  Guadaloupe,  having 
promised  the  monks  of  our  Lady  of  Guadaloupe  in 
Estremadura  to  call  some  newly-discovered  place 
after  their  convent. 

Landing  here  on  the  4th,  they  visited  a  village 
near  the  shore,  the  inhabitants  of  which  fled,  some 
even  leaving  their  children  behind  in  their  terror 
and  confusion.  These  the  Spaniards  soothed  with 
caresses,  binding  hawks'  bells  and  other  trinkets 
round  their  arms.  This  village,  like  most  of 
those  of  the  island,  consisted  of  twenty  or  thirty 
houses,  built  round  a  public  place  or  square.  The 
houses  were  constructed  of  trunks  and  trees  inter- 
woven with  reeds  and  branches,  and  thatched 
with  palm-leaves.  They  were  square,  not  circular 
like  those  of  the  other  islands,  J  and  each  had  its 
portico  or  shelter  from  the  sun.  One  of  the  porti- 
cos was  decorated  with  images  of  serpents  tolera- 
bly carved  in  wood.  For  furniture  they  had  ham- 
mocks of  cotton  net,  and  utensils  formed  of  cala- 
bashes or  earthenware,  equal  to  the  best  of  those 
of  Hispaniola.  There  were  large  quantities  of 
cotton  ;  some  in  the  wool,  some  in  yarn,  and  some 
wrought  into  cloth  of  very  tolerable  texture  ;  and 
many  bows  and  arrows,  the  latter  tipped  with 
sharp  bones.  Provisions  seemed  to  abound. 
There  were  many  domesticated  geese  like  those 
of  Europe,  and  parrots  as  large  as  household 
fowls,  with  blue,  green,  white,  and  scarlet  plumage, 
being  the  splendid  species  called  guacamayos. 
Here  also  the  Spaniards  first  met  with  the  anana, 
or  pineapple,  the  flavor  and  fragrance  of  which 
astonished  and  delighted  them.  In  one  of  the 
houses  they  were  surprised  to  find  a  pan  or  other 
utensil  of  iron,  not  having  ever  met  with  that 
metal  in  the  New  World.  Fernando  Colon  sup- 
poses that  it  was  formed  of  a  certain  kind  of  heavy 
stone  found  among  those  islands,  which,  when 
burnt,  has  the  appearance  of  shining  iron  ;  or  it 
might  have  been  some  utensil  brought  by  the  In- 
dians from  Hispaniola.  Certain  it  is,  that  no  na- 
tive iron  was  ever  found  among  the  people  of 
these  islands. 

In  another  house  was  the  stern-post  of  a  vessel. 
How  had  it  reached  these  shores,  which  appeared 
never  to  have  been  visited  by  the  ships  of  civilized 
man  ?  Was  it  the  wreck  of  some  vessel  from  the 
more  enlightened  countries  of  Asia,  which  they 
supposed  to  lie  somewhere  in  this  direction  ?  Or 
a  part  of  the  caravel  which  Columbus  had  lost  at 
the  island  of  Hispaniola  during  his  first  voyage  ? 
Or  a  fragment  of  some  European  ship  which  had 
drifted  across  the  Atlantic  ?  The  latter  was  most 
probably  the  case.  The  constant  current  which 
sets  over  from  the  coast  of  Africa,  produced  by 
the  steady  prevalence  of  the  trade-winds,  must  oc- 
casionally bring  wrecks  from  the  Old  World  to 
the  New  ;  and  long  before  the  discovery  of  Colum- 
bus the  savages  of  the  islands  and  the  coasts  may 
have  gazed  with  wonder  at  fragments  of  European 
barks  which  have  floated  to  their  shores. 


*  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca. 

f  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.    Peter  Martyr  calls  it  Caru- 
cueira  or  Queraquiera,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii. 
J  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  62. 


What  struck  the  Spaniards  with  horror  was 
the  sight  of  human  bones,  vestiges,  as  they  sup- 
posed, of  unnatural  repasts  ;  and  skulls,  appar- 
ently used  as  vases  and  other  household  uten- 
sils. These  dismal  objects  convinced  them  that 
they  were  now  in  the  abodes  of  the  Cannibals, 
or  Caribs,  whose  predatory  expeditions  and  ruth- 
less character  rendered  them  the  terror  of  these 
seas. 

The  boat  having  returned  on  board,  Columbus 
proceeded  upward  of  two  leagues,  until  he  an- 
chored, late  in  the  evening,  in  a  convenient  port. 
The  island  on  this  side  extended  for  the  distance 
of  five  and  twenty  leagues,  diversified  with  lofty 
mountains  and  broad  plains.  Along  the  coast 
were  small  villages  and  hamlets,  the  inhabitants 
of  which  fled  in  affright.  On  the  following  day 
the  boats  landed,  and  succeeded  in  taking  and 
bringing  off  a  boy  and  several  women.  The  in- 
formation gathered  from  them  confirmed  Colum- 
bus in  his  idea  that  this  was  one  of  the  islands  of 
the  Caribs.  He  learnt  that  the  inhabitants  were 
in  league  with  two  neighboring  islands,  but  made 
war  upon  all  the  rest.  They  even  went  on  preda- 
tory enterprises,  in  canoes  made  from  the  hollow- 
ed trunks  of  trees,  to  the  distance  of  one  hundred 
and  fifty  leagues.  Their  arms  were  bows  and 
arrows  pointed  with  the  bones  of  fishes  or  shells 
of  tortoises,  and  poisoned  with  the  juice  of  a  cer- 
tain herb.  They  made  descents  upon  the  islands, 
ravaged  the  villages,  carried  off  the  youngest  and 
handsomest  of  the  women,  whom  they  retained  as 
servants  or  companions,  and  made  prisoners  of 
the  men,  to  be  killed  and  eaten. 

After  hearing  such  accounts  of  the  natives  of 
this  island,  Columbus  was  extremely  uneasy  at 
finding,  in  the  evening,  that  Diego  Marque,  a 
captain  of  one  of  the  caravels,  and  eight  men  were 
missing.  They  had  landed  early  in  the  morning 
without  leave,  and  straying  into  the  woods,  had  not 
since  been  seen  or  heard  of.  The  night  passed 
away  without  their  return.  On  the  following  day 
parties  were  sent  in  various  directions  in  quest  of 
them,  each  with  a  trumpeter  to  sound  calls  and 
signals.  Guns  were  fired  from  the  ships,  and 
arquebuses  on  shore,  but  all  to  no  purpose,  and 
the  parties  returned  in  the  evening,  wearied  with 
a  fruitless  search.  In  several  hamlets  they  had 
met  with  proofs  of  the  cannibal  propensities  of  the 
natives.  Human  limbs  were  suspended  to  the 
beams  of  the  houses,  as  if  curing  for  provisions  ; 
the  head  of  a  young  man  recently  killed  was  yet 
bleeding  ;  some  parts  of  his  body  were  roasting 
before  the  fire,  others  boiling  with  the  flesh  of 
geese  and  parrots.* 

Several  of  the  natives,  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
had  been  seen  on  the  shore,  gazing  with  wonder 
at  the  ships,  but  when  the  boats  approached,  they 
fled  to  the  woods  and  mountains.  Several  women 
came  off  to  the  Spaniards  for  refuge,  being  cap- 
tives from  other  islands.  Columbus  ordered  that 
they  should  be  decorated  with  hawks'  bells  and 
strings  of  beads  and  bugles,  and  sent  on  shore, 
in  hopes  of  enticing  off  some  of  the  men.  They 
soon  returned  to  the  boats  stripped  of  their 
ornaments,  and  imploring  to  be  taken  on  board 
the  ships.  The  admiral  learnt  from  them  that 
most  of  the  men  of  the  island  were  absent, 
the  king  having  sailed  some  time  before  with 
ten  canoes  and  three  hundred  warriors,  on  a 
cruise  in  quest  of  prisoners  and  booty.  WThen 
the  men  went  forth  on  these  expeditions,  the 


*  P.  Martyr,  Letter  147,  to  Pomponio  Lseto.     Idem, 
decad.  i.  lib.  ii. 


82 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


women  remained  to  defend  their  shores  from  in- 
vasion. They  were  expert  archers,  partaking  of 
the  warrior  spirit  of  their  husbands,  and  almost 
equalling  them  in  force  and  intrepidity.* 

The  continued  absence  of  the  wanderers  per- 
plexed Columbus  extremely.  He  was  impatient 
to  arrive  at  Hispaniola,  but  unwilling  to  sail  while 
there  was  a  possibility  of  their  being  alive  and 
being  recovered.  In  this  emergency  Alonso  de 
Ojeda,  the  same  young  cavalier  whose  exploit  on 
the  tower  of  the  cathedral  at  Seville  has  been 
mentioned,  volunteered  to  scour  the  island  with 
forty  men  in  quest  of  them.  He  departed  accord- 
ingly, and  during  his  absence  the  ships  took  in 
wood  and  water,  and  part  of  the  crews  were  per- 
mitted to  land,  wash  their  clothes,  and  recreate 
themselves. 

Ojeda  and  his  followers  pushed  far  into  the  in- 
terior, firing  off  arquebuses  and  sounding  trum- 
pets in  the  valleys  and  from  the  summits  of  cliffs 
and  precipices,  but  were  only  answered  by  their 
own  echoes.  The  tropical  luxuriance  and  density 
of  the  forests  rendered  them  almost  impenetra- 
ble ;  and  it  was  necessary  to  wade  a  great  many 
rivers,  or  probably  the  windings  and  doublings  of 
the  same  stream.  The  island  appeared  to  be  nat- 
urally fertile  in  the  extreme.  The  forests  abound- 
ed with  aromatic  trees  and  shrubs,  among  which 
Ojeda  fancied  he  perceived  the  odor  of  precious 
gums  and  spices.  There  was  honey  in  hollow 
trees  and  in  the  clefts  of  rocks  ;  abundance  of  fruit 
also  ;  for,  according  to  Peter  Martyr,  the  Caribs, 
in  their  predatory  cruisings,  were  accustomed  to 
bring  home  the  seeds  and  roots  of  all  kinds  of 
plants  from  the  distant  islands  and  countries 
which  they  overran. 

Ojeda  returned  without  any  tidings  of  the  strag- 
glers. Several  days  had  now  elapsed  since  their 
disappearance.  They  were  given  up  for  lost,  and 
the  fleet  was  about  sailing  when,  to  the  universal 
joy,  a  signal  was  made  by  them  from  the  shore. 
When  they  came  on  board  their  haggard  and  ex- 
hausted looks  bespoke  what  they  had  suffered. 
For  several  days  they  had  been  perplexed  in  track- 
less forests,  so  dense  as  almost  to  exclude  the  light 
of  day.  They  had  clambered  rocks,  waded  riv- 
ers, and  struggled  through  briers  and  thickets. 
Some,  who  were  experienced  seamen  climbed  the 
trees  to  get  a  sight  of  the  stars,  by  which  to  gov- 
ern their  course  ;  but  the  spreading  branches  and 
thick  foliage  shut  out  all  view  of  the  heavens. 
They  were  harassed  with  the  fear,  that  the  ad- 
miral, thinking  them  dead,  might  set  sail  and 
leave  them  in  this  wilderness,  cut  off  forever  from 
their  homes  and  the  abodes  of  civilized  man.  At 
length,  when  almost  reduced  to  despair,  they 
had  arrived  at  the  sea-shore,  and  following  it 
for  some  time,  beheld,  to  their  great  joy,  the 
fleet  riding  quietly  at  anchor.  They  brought 
with  them  several  Indian  women  and  boys  ;  but 
in  all  their  wanderings  they  had  not  met  with 
any  man  ;  the  greater  part  of  the  warriors,  as 
has  been  said,  being  fortunately  absent  on  an  ex- 
pedition. 

Notwithstanding  the  hardships  they  had  endur- 
ed, and  his  joy  at  their  return,  Columbus  put  the 
captain  under  arrest,  and  stopped  part  of  the  ra- 
tions of  the  men,  for  having  strayed  away  without 
permission,  for  in  a  service  of  such  a  critical  na- 
ture it  was  necessary  to  punish  every  breach  of 
discipline.! 


46. 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  ix. 

f  Dr.  Chanca's  Letter.     Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap. 


CHAPTER  III. 

CRUISE  AMONG  THE  CARIBBEE   ISLANDS. 
[1493-] 

WEIGHING  anchor  on  the  loth  of  November, 
Columbus  steered  toward  the  north-west,  along 
this  beautiful  archipelago  ;  giving  names  to  the 
islands  as  they  rose  to  view  ;  such  as  Montserrat, 
Santa  Maria  la  Redonda,  Santa  Maria  la  Antigua, 
and  San  Martin.  Various  other  islands,  lofty 
and  well-wooded,  appeared  to  the  north,  south- 
west, and  south-east  ;  but  he  forbore  to  visit 
them.  The  weather  proving  boisterous,  he 
anchored  on  the  I4th  at  an  island  called  Ayay  by 
the  Indians,  but  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of 
Santa  Cruz.  A  boat  well  manned  was  sent  on 
shore  to  get  water  and  procure  information. 
They  found  a  village  deserted  by  the  men,  but 
secured  a  few  women  and  boys,  most  of  them 
captives  from  other  islands.  They  soon  had  an 
instance  of  Carib  courage  and  ferocity.  While  at 
the  village  they  beheld  a  canoe  from  a  distant 
part  of  the  island  come  round  a  point  of  land  and 
arrive  in  view  of  the  ships.  The  Indians  in  the 
canoe,  two  of  whom  were  females,  remained  gaz- 
ing in  mute  amazement  at  the  ships,  and  were  so 
entranced  that  the  boat  stole  close  upon  them  be- 
fore they  perceived  it.  Seizing  their  paddles  they 
attempted  to  escape,  but  the  boat  being  between 
them  and  the  land,  cut  off  their  retreat.  They 
now  caught  up  their  bows  and  arrows  and  plied 
them  with  amazing  vigor  and  rapidity.  The 
Spaniards  covered  themselves  with  their  bucklers, 
but  two  of  them  were  quickly  wounded.  The 
women  fought  as  fiercely  as  the  men,  and  one  of 
them  sent  an  arrow  with  such  force  that  it  passed 
through  and  through  a  buckler. 

The  Spaniards  now  ran  their  boat  against  the 
canoe  and  overturned  it  ;  some  of  the  savages 
got  upon  sunken  rocks,  others  discharged  their 
arrows  while  swimming,  as  dexterously  as  though 
they  had  been  upon  firm  land.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  they  could  be  overcome  and 
taken  ;  one  of  them,  who  had  been  transfixed  with 
a  lance,  died  soon  after  being  brought  aboard  the 
ships.  One  of  the  women,  from  the  obedience 
and  deference  paid  to  her,  appeared  to  be  their 
queen.  She  was  accompanied  by  her  son,  a  young 
man  strongly  made,  with  a  frowning  brow  and 
lion's  face.  He  had  been  wounded  in  the  conflict. 
The  hair  of  these  savages  was  long  and  coarse, 
their  eyes  were  encircled  with  paint,  so  as  to  give 
them  a  hideous  expression  ;  and  bands  of  cotton 
were  bound  firmly  above  and  below  the  muscular 
parts  of  the  arms  and  legs,  so  as  to  cause  them  to 
swell  to  a  disproportioned  size  ;  a  custom  preva- 
lent among  various  tribes  of  the  New  World. 
Though  captives  in  chains,  and  in  the  power  of 
their  enemies,  they  still  retained  a  frowning  brow 
and  an  air  of  defiance.  Peter  Martyr,  who  often 
went  to  see  them  in  Spain,  declares,  from  his  own 
experience,  and  that  of  others  who  accompanied 
him,  that  it  was  impossible  to  look  at  them  with- 
out a  sensation  of  horror,  so  menacing  and  terri- 
ble was  their  aspect.  The  sensation  was  doubt- 
less caused  in  a  great  measure  by  the  idea  of  their 
being  cannibals.  %  In  this  skirmish,  according  to 
the  same  writer,  the  Indians  used  poisoned  arrows  ; 
and  one  of  the  Spaniards  died  within  a  few  days, 
of  a  wound  received  from  one  of  the  females.* 


*  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  47.  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  cap.  85,  MS.  Letter 
of  Dr.  Chanca. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


83 


Pursuing  his  voyage,  Columbus  soon  came  in 
sight  of  a  great  cluster  of  islands,  some  verdant 
and  covered  with  forests,  but  the  greater  part 
naked  and  sterile,  rising  into  craggy  mountains  ; 
with  rocks  of  a  bright  azure  color,  and  some  of  a 
glistering  white.  These,  with  his  usual  vivacity 
of  imagination,  he  supposed  to  contain  mines  of 
rich  metals  and  precious  stones.  The  islands  ly- 
ing close  together,  with  the  sea  beating  roughly 
in  the  narrow  channels  which  divided  them,  ren- 
dered it  dangerous  to  enter  among  them  with  the 
large  ships.  Columbus  sent  in  a  small  caravel 
with  latine  sails,  to  reconnoitre,  which  returned 
with  the  report  that  there  were  upward  of  fifty 
islands,  apparently  inhabited.  To  the  largest  of 
this  group  he  gave  the  name  of  Santa  Ursula,  and 
called  the  others  the  Eleven  Thousand  Virgins.* 

Continuing  his  course,  he  arrived  one  evening 
in  sight  of  a  great  island  covered  with  beautiful 
forests,  and  indented  with  fine  havens.  It  was 
called  by  the  natives  Boriquem,  but  he  gave  it  the 
name  of  San  Juan  Bautista  ;  it  is  the  same  since 
known  by  the  name  of  Porto  Rico.  This  was  the 
native  island  of  most  of  the  captives  who  had  fled 
to  the  ships  for  refuge  from  the  Caribs.  Accord- 
ing to  their  accounts  it  was  fertile  and  populous, 
and  under  the  dominion  of  a  single  cacique.  Its 
inhabitants  were  not  given  to  rove,  and  possessed 
but  few  canoes.  They  were  subject  to  frequent 
invasions  from  the  Caribs,  who  were  their  impla- 
cable enemies.  They  had  become  warriors,  there- 
fore, in  their  own  defence,  using  the  bow  and  ar- 
row and  the  war-club  ;  and  in  their  contests  with 
their  cannibal  foes  they  retorted  upon  them  their 
own  atrocities,  devouring  their  prisoners  in  re- 
venge. 

After  running  for  a  whole  day  along  the  beauti- 
ful coast  of  this  island,  they  anchored  in  bay  at 
the  west  end,  abounding  in  fish.  On  landing, 
they  found  an  Indian  village,  constructed  as  usual 
round  a  common  square,  like  a  market-place,  with 
one  large  and  well-built  house.  A  spacious  road 
led  thence  to  the  seaside,  having  fences  on  each 
side,  of  interwoven  reeds,  inclosing  fruitful  gar- 
dens. At  the  end  of  the  road  was  a  kind  of  ter- 
race, or  look-out,  constructed  of  reeds  and  over- 
hanging the  water.  The  whole  place  had  an  air 
of  neatness  and  ingenuity,  superior  to  the  ordinary 
residences  of  the  natives,  and  appeared  to  be  the 
abode  of  some  important  chieftain.  All,  how- 
ever, was  silent  and  deserted.  Not  a  human  be- 
ing was  to  be  seen  during  the  time  they  remained 
at  the  place.  The  natives  had  concealed  them- 
selves at  the  sight  of  the  squadron.  After  remain- 
ing here  two  days,  Columbus  made  sail,  and  stood 
for  the  island  of  Hispaniola.  Thus  ended  his 
cruise  among  the  Caribbee  islands,  the  account  of 
whose  fierce  and  savage  people  was  received  with 
eager  curiosity  by  the  learned  of  Europe,  and  con- 
sidered as  settling  one  dark  and  doubtful  ques- 
tion to  the  disadvantage  of  human  nature.  Peter 
Martyr,  in  his  letter  to  Pomponius  Lastus,  an- 
nounces the  fact  with  fearful  solemnity.  "The 
stories  of  the  Lestrigonians  and  of  Polyphemus, 
who  fed  on  human  flesh,  are  no  longer  doubtful  ! 
Attend,  but  beware,  lest  thy  hair  bristle  with 
horror  !" 

That  many  of  the  pictures  given  us  of  this  ex- 
traordinary race  of  people  have  been  colored  by 
the  fears  of  the  Indians  and  the  prejudices  of  the 
Spaniards,  is  highly  probable.  They  were  con- 
stantly the  terror  of  the  former,  and  the  brave  and 
obstinate  opponents  of  the  latter.  The  evidences 


*  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.    Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca. 


adduced  of  their  cannibal  propensities  must  be 
received  with  large  allowances  for  the  careless 
and  inaccurate  observations  of  seafaring  men, 
and  the  preconceived  belief  of  the  fact,  which  ex- 
isted in  the  minds  of  the  Spaniards.  It  was  a  cus- 
tom among  the  natives  of  many  of  the  islands,  and 
of  other  parts  of  the  New  World,  to  preserve  the 
remains  of  their  deceased  relatives  and  friends  ; 
sometimes  the  entire  body  ;  sometimes  only  the 
head,  or  some  of  the  limbs,  dried  at  the  fire  ; 
sometimes  the  mere  bones.  These,  when  found  in 
the  dwellings  of  the  natives  of  Hispaniola,  against 
whom  no  prejudice  of  the  kind  existed,  were  cor- 
rectly regarded  as  relics  of  the  deceased,  preserved 
through  affection  or  reverence  ;  but  any  remains 
of  the  kind  found  among  the  Caribs  were  looked 
upon  with  horror  as  proofs  of  cannibalism. 

The  warlike  and  unyielding  character  of  these 
people,  so  different  from  that  of  the  pusillanimous 
nations  around  them,  and  the  wide  scope  of  their 
enterprises  and  wanderings,  like  those  of  the  no- 
mad tribes  of  the  Old  World,  entitle  them  to  dis- 
tinguished attention.  They  were  trained  to  war 
from  their  infancy.  As  soon  as  they  could  walk, 
their  intrepid  mothers  put  in  their  hands  the  bow 
and  arrow,  and  prepared  them  to  take  an  early 
part  in  the  hardy  entet prises  of  their  fathers. 
Their  distant  roamings  by  sea  made  them  obser- 
vant and  intelligent.  The  natives  of  the  other 
islands  only  knew  how  to  divide  time  by  day  and  , 
night,  by  the  sun  and  moon  ;  whereas  these  had 
acquired  some  knowledge  of  the  stars,  by  which 
to  calculate  the  times  and  seasons.* 

The  traditional  accounts  of  their  origin,  though 
of  course  extremely  vague,  are  yet  capable  of  be- 
ing verified  to  a  great  degree  by  geographical 
facts,  and  open  one  of  the  rich  veins  of  curious  in- 
quiry and  speculation  which  abound  in  the  New 
World.  They  are  said  to  have  migrated  from 
,the  remote  valleys  embosomed  in  the  Apalachian 
mountains.  The  earliest  accounts  we  have  of 
them  represent  them  with  weapons  in  their  hands, 
continually  engaged  in  wars,  winning  their  way 
and  shifting  their  abode,  until  in  the  course  of 
time  they  found  themselves  at  the  extremity  of 
Florida.  Here,  abandoning  the  northern  conti- 
nent, they  passed  over  to  the  Lucayos,  and  thence 
gradually,  in  the  process  of  years,  from  island  to 
island  of  that  vast  and  verdant  chain,  which  links, 
as  it  were,  the  end  of  Florida  to  the  coast  of 
Paria,  on  the  southern  continent.  The  archipela- 
go extending  from  Porto  Rico  to  Tobago  was  their 
stronghold,  and  the  island  of  Guadaloupe  in  a 
manner  their  citadel.  Hence  they  made  their  ex- 
peditions, and  spread  the  terror  of  their  name 
through  all  the  surrounding  countries.  Swarms 
of  them  landed  upon  the  southern  continent,  and 
overran  some  parts  of  terra  firma.  Traces  of 
them  have  been  discovered  far  in  the  interior  of 
that  vast  country  through  which  flows  the  Oroo- 
noko.  The  Dutch  found  colonies  of  them  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ikouteka,  which  empties  into  the 
Surinam  ;  along  the  Esquibi,  the  Maroni,  and 
other  rivers  of  Guayana  ;  and  in  the  country 
watered  by  the  windings  of  the  Cayenne  ;  and  it 
would  appear  that  they  extended  their  wanderings 
to  the  shores  of  the  southern  ocean,  where,  among 
the  aboriginals  of  Brazil,  were  some  who  called 
themselves  Caribs,  distinguished  from  the  sur- 
rounding Indians  by  their  superior  hardihood, 
subtlety,  and  enterprise.! 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  62. 
f  Rochefort,  Hist.  Nat.  des  Isles  Antilles  ;  Rotter- 
dam, 1665. 


84 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


To  trace  the  footsteps  of  this  roving  tribe 
throughout  its  wide  migrations  from  the  Apala- 
chian  mountains  of  the  northern  continent,  along 
the  clusters  of  islands  which  stud  the  Gulf  of  Mex- 
ico and  the  Caribbean  Sea  to  the  shores  of  Paria, 
and  so  across  the  vast  regions  of  Guayana  and 
Amazonia  to  the  remote  coast  of  Brazil,  would  be 
one  of  the  most  curious  researches  in  aboriginal 
history,  and  throw  much  light  upon  the  mysteri- 
ous question  of  the  population  of  the  New  World. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ARRIVAL     AT  THE     HARBOR     OF    LA    NAVIDAD — 
DISASTER  OF    THE    FORTRESS. 

['493-J 

ON  the  22d  of  November  the  fleet  arrived  off 
what  was  soon  ascertained  to  be  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  Hayti,  or,  as  the  admiral  had  named  it, 
Hispaniola.  The  greatest  excitement  prevailed 
throughout  the  armada,  at  the  thoughts  of  soon 
arriving  at  the  end  of  their  voyage.  Those  who 
had  been  here  in  the  preceding  voyage  remem- 
bered the  pleasant  days  they  had  passed  among  the 
groves  of  Hayti  ;  and  the  rest  looked  forward  with 
eagerness  to  scenes  painted  to  them  with  the  cap- 
tivating illusions  of  the  golden  age. 

As  the  fleet  swept  with  easy  sail  along  the  green 
shore,  a  boat  was  sent  to  land  to  bury  a  Biscayan 
sailor,  who  had  died  of  the  wound  of  an  arrow 
received  in  the  late  skirmish.  Two  light  caravels 
hovered  near  the  shore  to  guard  the  boat's  crew, 
while  the  funeral  ceremony  was  performed  on  the 
beach,  under  the  trees.  Several  natives  came  off 
to  the  ship,  with  a  message  to  the  admiral  from 
the  cacique  of  the  neighborhood,  inviting  him 
to  land,  and  promising  great  quantities  of  gold  ; 
anxious,  however,  to  arrive  at  La  Navidad,  Co- 
lumbus dismissed  them  with  presents  and  con- 
tinued his  course.  Arriving  at  the  gulf  of  Las 
Flechas,  or,  as  it  is  now  called,  the  gulf  of  Se- 
mana,  the  place  where,  in  his  preceding  voyage, 
a  skirmish  had  occurred  with  the  natives,  he  set  on 
shore  one  of  the  young  Indians  of  the  place,  who 
had  accompanied  him  to  Spain,  and  had  been  con- 
verted to  Christianity.  He  dismissed  him  finely 
apparelled  and  loaded  with  trinkets,  anticipating 
favorable  effects  from  his  accounts  to  his  country- 
men of  the  wonders  he  had  seen,  and  the  kind 
treatment  he  had  experienced.  The  young  Indian 
made  many  fair  promises,  but  either  forgot  them 
all,  on  regaining  his  liberty  and  his  native  moun- 
tains, or  fell  a  victim  to  envy  caused  by  his  wealth 
and  finery.  Nothing  was  seen  or  heard  of  him 
more.*  Only  one  Indian  of  those  who  had  been 
to  Spain  now  remained  in  the  fleet  ;  a  young  Lu- 
cayan,  native  of  the  island  of  Guanahani,  who  had 
been  baptized  at  Barcelona,  and  had  been  named 
after  trie  admiral's  brother,  Diego  Colon.  He 
continued  always  faithful  and  devoted  to  the  Span- 
iards. 

On  the  25th  Columbus  anchored  in  the  harbor 
of  Monte  Christi  ;  anxious  to  fix  upon  a  place 
for  a  settlement  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
stream  to  which,  in  his  first  voyage,  he  had  given 
the  name  of  the  Rio  del  Oro,  or  the  Golden 
River.  As  several  of  the  mariners  were  ranging 
the  coast,  they  found,  on  the  green  and  moist 
banks  of  a  rivulet,  the  bodies  of  a  man  and  boy  ; 
the  former  with  a  cord  of  Spanish  grass  about  his 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  9. 


neck,  and  his  arms  extended  and  tied  by  the 
wrists  to  a  stake  in  the  form  of  a  cross.  The  bod- 
ies were  in  such  a  state  of  decay  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  ascertain  whether  they  were  Indians  or 
Europeans.  Sinister  doubts,  however,  were  enter- 
tained, which  were  confirmed  on  the  following 
day  ;  lor  on  revisiting  the  shore,  they  found,  at 
some  distance  from  the  former,  two  other  bodies, 
one  of  which,  having  a  beard,  was  evidently  the 
corpse  of  a  white  man. 

The  pleasant  anticipations  of  Columbus  on  his 
approach  to  La  Navidad  were  now  overcast  with 
gloomy  forebodings.  The  experience  recently 
had  of  the  ferocity  of  some  of  the  inhabitants  of 
these  islands,  made  him  doubtful  of  the  amity  of 
others,  and  he  began  to  fear  that  some  misfortune 
might  have  befallen  Arana  and  his  garrison. 

The  frank  and  fearless  manner,  however,  in 
which  a  number  of  the  natives  came  off  to  the 
ships,  and  their  unembarrassed  demeanor,  in 
some  measure  allayed  his  suspicions  ;  tor  it  did 
not  appear  probable  that  they  would  venture  thus 
confidently  among  the  white  men,  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  recently  shed  the  blood  of 
their  companions. 

On  the  evening  of  the  27th,  he  arrived  opposite 
the  harbor  of  La  Navidad,  and  cast  anchor  about 
a  league  from  the  land,  not  daring  to  enter  in  the 
dark  on  account  of  the  dangerous  reefs.  It  was 
too  late  to  distinguish  objects.  Impatient  to  satisfy 
his  doubts,  therefore,  he  ordered  two  cannon  to  be 
fired.  The  report  echoed  along  the  shore,  but 
there  was  no  reply  from  the  fort.  Every  eye  was 
now  directed  to  catch  the  gleam  of  some  signal 
light  ;  every  ear  listened  to  hear  some  friendly 
shout  ;  but  there  was  neither  light  nor  shout,  nor 
any  other  sign  of  life  ;  all  was  darkness  and  death- 
like silence.* 

Several  hours  were  passed  in  dismal  suspense, 
and  everyone  longed  for  the  morning  light,  to  put 
an  end  to  his  uncertainty.  About  midnight  a  ca- 
noe approached  the  fleet  ;  when  within  a  certain 
distance,  it  paused,  and  the  Indians  who  were  in 
it,  hailing  one  of  the  vessels,  asked  for  the  ad- 
miral. When  directed  to  his  ship  they  drew  near, 
but  would  not  venture  on  board  until  they  saw  Co- 
lumbus. He  showed  himself  at  the  side  of  his 
vessel,  and  a  light  being  held  up,  his  countenance 
and  commanding  person  were  not  to  be  mistaken. 
They  now  entered  the  ship  without  hesitation.  One 
of  them  was  a  cousin  of  the  cacique  Guacanagari, 
and  brought  a  present  from  him  of  two  masks  or- 
namented with  gold.  Columbus  inquired  about 
the  Spaniards  who  had  remained  on  the  island. 
The  information  which  the  native  gave  was  some- 
what confused,  or  perhaps  was  imperfectly  under- 
stood, as  the  only  Indian  interpreter  on  board  was 
the  young  Lucayan,  Diego  Colon,  whose  native 
language  was  different  from  that  of  Hayti.  He 
told  Columbus  that  several  of  the  Spaniards  had 
died  of  sickness  ;  others  had  fallen  in  a  quarrel 
among  themselves,  and  others  had  removed  to  a 
different  part  of  the  island,  where  they  had  taken 
to  themselves  Indian  wives.  That  Guacanagari 
had  been  assailed  by  Caonabo,  the  fierce  cacique 
of  the  golden  mountains  of  Cibao,  who  had  wound- 
ed him  in  battle,  and  burnt  his  village  ;  and  that 
he  remained  ill  of  his  wound  in  a  neighboring 
hamlet,  or  he  would  have  hastened  in  person  to 
welcome  the  admiral. f 


*  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.  Navarrete,  Colec.  de 
Viage,  torn.  i. 

f  Dr.  Chanca's  Letter,  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap. 
48.  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  i.  cap.  9. 


LIFE   AND    VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


85 


Melancholy  as  were  these  tidings,  they  relieved 
Columbus  from  a  dark  and  dismal  surmise. 
Whatever  disasters  had  overwhelmed  his  garrison, 
it  had  not  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  the  perfidy  of  the 
natives;  his  good  opinion  of  the  gentleness  and 
kindness  of  these  people  had  not  been  misplaced  ; 
nor  had  their  cacique  forfeited  the  admiration  in- 
spired by  his  benevolent  hospitality.  Thus  the 
most  corroding  care  was  dismissed  from  his 
mind  ;  for,  to  a  generous  spirit,  there  is  nothing 
so  disheartening  as  to  discover  treachery  where  it 
has  reposed  confidence  and  friendship.  It  would 
seem  also  that  some  of  the  garrison  were  yet 
alive,  though  scattered  about  the  island  ;  they 
would  doubtless  soon  hear  of  his  arrival,  and 
would  hasten  to  rejoin  him,  well  qualified  to  give 
information  of  the  interior. 

Satisfied  of  the  friendly  disposition  of  the  na- 
tives, the  cheerfulness  of  the  crews  was  in  a  great 
measure  restored.  The  Indians  who  had  come 
on  board  were  well  entertained,  and  departed  in 
the  night  gratified  with  various  presents,  promis- 
ing to  return  in  the  morning  with  the  cacique 
Guacanagari.  The  mariners  now  awaited  the 
dawn  of  day  with  reassured  spirits,  expecting  that 
the  cordial  intercourse  and  pleasant  scenes  of  the 
first  voyage  would  be  renewed. 

The  morning  dawned  and  passed  away,  and  the 
day  advanced  and  began  to  decline,  without  the 
promised  visit  from  the  cacique.  Some  apprehen- 
sions were  now  entertained  that  the  Indians  who 
had  visited  them  the  preceding  night  might  be 
drowned,  as  they  had  partaken  freely  of  wine,  and 
their  small  canoe  was  easy  to  be  overset.  There 
was  a  silence  and  an  air  of  desertion  about  the 
whole  neighborhood  extremely  suspicious.  On 
their  preceding  visit  the  harbor  had  been  a  scene 
of  continual  animation  ;  canoes  gliding  over  the 
clear  waters,  Indians  in  groups  on  the  shores,  or 
under  the  trees,  or  swimming  off  to  the  caravel. 
Now,  not  a  canoe  was  to  be  seen,  not  an  Indian 
hailed  them  from  the  land  ;  nor  was  there  any 
smoke  rising  from  among  the  groves  to  give  a  sign 
of  habitation. 

After  waiting  for  a  long  time  in  vain,  Columbus 
sent  a  boat  to  the  shore  to  reconnoitre.  On  land- 
ing, the  crew  hastened  and  sought  the  fortress.  It 
was  a  ruin  ;  the  palisadoes  were  beaten  clown,  and 
the  whole  presented  the  appearance  of  having  been 
sacked,  burnt,  and  destroyed.  Here  and  there 
were  broken  chests,  spoiled  provisions,  and  the 
ragged  remains  of  European  garments.  Not  an 
Indian  approached  them.  They  caught  sight  of 
two  or  three  lurking  at  a  distance  among  the 
trees,  and  apparently  watching  them  ;  but  they 
vanished  into  the  woods  on  finding  themselves 
observed.  Meeting  no  one  to  explain  the  melan- 
choly scene  before  them,  they  returned  with  de- 
jected hearts  to  the  ships,  and  related  to  the  ad- 
miral what  they  had  seen. 

Columbus  was  greatly  troubled  in  mind  at  this 
intelligence,  and  the  fleet  having  now  anchored  in 
the  harbor,  he  went  himself  to  shore  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  Repairing  to  the  ruins  of  the 
fortress,  he  found  everything  as  had  been  de- 
scribed, and  searched  in  vain  for  the  remains  of 
dead  bodies.  No  traces  of  the  garrison  were  to 
be  seen,  but  broken  utensils,  and  torn  vestments, 
scattered  here  and  there  among  the  grass.  There 
were  many  surmises  and  conjectures.  If  the  fort- 
ress had  been  sacked,  some  of  the  garrison  might 
yet  survive,  and  might  either  have  fled  from  the 
neighborhood,  or  been  carried  into  captivity. 
Cannon  and  arquebuses  were  discharged,  in 
hopes,  if  any  of  the  survivors  were  hid  among 


rocks  and  thickets,  they  might  hear  them  and 
come  forth  ;  but  no  one  made  his  appearance.  A 
mournful  and  lifeless  silence  reigned  over  the 
place.  The  suspicion  of  treachery  on  the  part  of 
Guacanagari  was  again  revived,  but  Columbus 
was  unwilling  to  indulge  it.  On  looking  further 
the  village  of  that  cacique  was  found  a  mere  heap 
of  burnt  ruins,  which  showed  that  he  had  been 
involved  in  the  .disaster  of  the  garrison. 

Columbus  had  left  orders  with  Arana  and  the 
other  officers  to  bury  all  the  treasure  they  might 
procure,  or,  in  case  of  sudden  danger,  to  throw 
it  into  the  well  of  the  fortress.  He  ordered  exca- 
vations to  be  made,  therefore,  among  the  ruins, 
and  the  well  to  be  cleared  out.  While  this  search 
was  making,  he  proceeded  with  the  boats  to  ex- 
plore the  neighborhood,  partly  in  hopes  of  gaining 
intelligence  of  any  scattered  survivors  of  the  gar- 
rison, and  partly  to  look  out  for  a  better  situation 
for  a  fortress.  After  proceeding  about  a  league 
he  came  to  a  hamlet,  the  inhabitants  of  which  had 
fled,  taking  whatever  they  could  with  them  and 
hiding  the  rest  in  the  grass.  In  the  houses  were 
European  articles,  which  evidently  had  not  been 
procured  by  barter,  such  as  stockings,  pieces  of 
cloth,  an  anchor  of  the  caravel  which  had  been 
wrecked,  and  a  beautiful  Moorish  robe,  folded  in 
the  form  in  which  it  had  been  brought  from 
Spain.* 

Having  passed  some  time  in  contemplating 
these  scattered  documents  of  a  disastrous  story, 
Columbus  returned  to  the  ruins  of  the  fortress. 
The  excavations  and  search  in  the  well  had  proved 
fruitless  ;  no  treasure  was  to  be  found.  Not  far 
from  the  fort,  however,  they  had  discovered  the 
bodies  of  eleven  men,  buried  in  different  places, 
and  which  were  known  by  their  clothing  to  be 
Europeans.  They  had  evidently  been  for  some 
time  in  the  ground,  the  grass  having  grown  upon 
their  graves. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  a  number  of  the  Indians 
made  their  appearance,  hovering  timidly  at  a  dis- 
tance. Their  apprehensions  were  gradually  dis- 
pelled until  they  became  perfectly  communicative. 
Some  of  them  could  speak  a  few  words  of  Spanish, 
and  knew  the  names  of  all  the  men  who  had  re- 
mained with  Arana.  By  this  means,  and  by  the . 
aid  of  the  interpreter,  the  story  of  the  garrison 
was  in  some  measure  ascertained. 

It  is  curious  to  note  this  first  footprint  of  civiliza- 
tion in  the  New  World.  Those  whom  Columbus 
had  left  behind,  says  Oviedo,  with  the  exception 
of  the  commander,  Don  Diego  Arana,  and  one  or 
two  others,  were  but  little  calculated  to  follow  the 
precepts  of  so  prudent  a  person,  or  to  discharge 
the  critical  duties  enjoined  upon  them.  They 
were  principally  men  of  the  lowest  order,  or  mar- 
iners who  knew  not  how  to  conduct  themselves 
with  restraint  or  sobriety  on  shore. f  No  sooner 
had  the  admiral  departed,  than  all  his  counsels 
and  commands  died  away  from  their  minds. 
Though  a  mere  handful  of  men,  surrounded  by 
savage  tribes  and  dependent  upon  their  own  pru- 
dence and  good  conduct,  and  upon  the  good-will 
of  the  natives,  for  very  existence,  yet  they  soon 
began  to  indulge  in  the  most  wanton  abuses. 
Some  were  prompted  by  rapacious  avarice,  and 
sought  to  possess  themselves,  by  all  kinds  of  wrong- 
ful means,  of  the  golden  ornaments  and  other  val- 
uable property  of  the  natives.  Others  were  grossly 
sensual,  and  not  content  with  two  or  three  wives 


*  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.     Cura  delos  Palacios,  cap. 
120. 
f  Oviedo,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  12. 


86 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


allowed  to  each  byGuacanagari,  seduced  the  wives 
and  daughters  ot  the  Indians. 

Fierce  brawls  ensued  among  them  about  their 
ill-gotten  spoils  and  the  favors  of  the  Indian 
women  ;  and  the  natives  beheld  with  astonish- 
ment the  beings  whom  they  had  worshipped,  as 
descended  from  the  skies,  abandoned  to  the  gross- 
est ot  earthly  passions,  and  raging  against  each 
other  with  worse  than  brutal  ferocity. 

Still  these  dissensions  might  not  have  been  very 
dangerous  had  they  observed  one  of  the  injunctions 
of  Columbus,  and  kept  together  in  the  fortress, 
maintaining  military  vigilance  ;  but  all  precaution 
ot  the  kind  was  soon  forgotten.  In  vain  did  Don 
Diego  de  Arana  interpose  his  authority  ;  in  vain 
did  every  inducement  present  itself  which  could 
bind  man  and  man  together  in  a  foreign  land. 
All  order,  all  subordination,  all  unanimity  was  at 
an  end.  Many  abandoned  the  fortress,  and  lived 
carelessly  and  at  random  about  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  every  one  was  for  himself,  or  associated 
with  some  little  knot  of  confederates  to  injure  and 
despoil  the  rest.  Thus  factions  broke  out  among 
them,  until  ambition  arose  to  complete  the  de- 
struction of  their  mimic  empire.  Pedro  Gutierrez 
and  Rodrigo  de  Escobedo,  whom  Columbus  had 
left  as  lieutenants  to  the  commander,  to  succeed 
to  him  in  case  of  accident,  took  advantage  of  these 
disorders  and  aspired  to  an  equal  share  in  the  au- 
thority, if  not  to  the  supreme  control.*  Violent 
affrays  succeeded,  in  which  a  Spaniard  named 
Jacomo  was  killed.  Having  failed  in  their  object, 
Gutierrez  and  Escobedo  withdrew  from  the  fort- 
ress with  nine  of  their  adherents  and  a  number  of 
their  women,  and  turned  their  thoughts  on  dis- 
tant enterprise.  Having  heard  marvellous  ac- 
counts of  the  mines  of  Cibao,  and  the  golden  sands 
of  its  mountain  rivers,  they  set  off  for  that  district, 
flushed  with  the  thoughts  of  amassing  immense 
treasure.  Thus  they  disregarded  another  strong 
injunction  of  Columbus,  which  was  to  keep  within 
the  friendly  territories  of  Guacanagari.  The  re- 
gion to  which  they  repaired  was  in  the  interior  of 
the  island,  within  the  province  of  Maguana,  ruled 
by  the  famous  Caonabo,  called  by  the  Spaniards 
the  Lord  of  the  Golden  House.  This  renowned 
chieftain  was  a  Carib  by  birth,  and  possessed  the 
fierceness  and  enterprise  of  his  nation.  He  had 
come  an  adventurer  to  Hispaniola,  and  by  his 
courage  and  address,  and  his  warlike  exploits, 
had  made  himself  the  most  potent  of  its  caciques. 
The  inhabitants  universally  stood  in  awe  of  him 
from  his  Carib  origin,  and  he  was  the  hero  of  the 
island,  when  the  ships  of  the  white  men  suddenly 
appeared  upon  its  shores.  The  wonderful  ac- 
counts of  their  power  and  prowess  had  reached 
him  among  his  mountains,  and  he  had  the  shrewd- 
ness to  perceive  that  his  consequence  must  decline 
before  such  formidable  intruders.  The  departure 
of  Columbus  gave  him  hopes  that  their  intrusion 
would  be  but  temporary.  The  discords  and  ex- 
cesses of  those  who  remained,  while  they  moved 
his  detestation,  inspired  him  with  increasing  con- 
fidence. No  sooner  did  Gutierrez  and  Escobedo, 
with  their  companions,  take  refuge  in  his  domin- 
ions, than  he  put  them  to  death.  He  then  formed 
a  league  with  the  cacique  of  Marien,  whose  terri- 
tories adjoined  those  of  Guacanagari  on  the  west, 
and  concerted  a  sudden  attack  upon  the  fortress. 
Emerging  with  his  warriors  from  among  the 
mountains,  and  traversing  great  tracts  of  forest 
with  profound  secrecy,  he  arrived  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  village  without  being  discovered.  The 


*  Oviedo,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  12. 


Spaniards,  confiding  in  the  gentle  and  pacific  na- 
ture of  the  Indians,  had  neglected  all  military  pre- 
cautions. But  ten  men  remained  in  the  fortress 
with  Arana,  and  these  do  not  appear  to  have 
maintained  any  guard.  The  rest  were  quartered 
in  houses  in  the  neighborhood.  In  the  dead  of 
the  night,  when  all  were  wrapped  in  sleep,  Cao- 
nabo and  his  warriors  burst  upon  the  place  with 
frightful  yells,  got  possession  of  the  fortress  be- 
fore its  inmates  could  put  themselves  upon  their 
defence,  and  surrounded  and  set  fire  to  the  houses 
in  which  the  rest  of  the  white  meh  were  sleeping. 
Eight  of  the  Spaniards  fled  to  the  seaside  pursued 
by  the  savages,  and,  rushing  into  the  waves,  were 
drowned  ;  the  rest  were  massacred.  Guacanagari 
and  his  subjects  fought  faithfully  in  defence  of 
their  guests,  but  not  being  of  a  warlike  character, 
were  easily  routed  ;  the  cacique  was  wounded  by 
the  hand  of  Caonabo,  and  his  village  was  burnt  to 
the  ground.* 

Such  was  the  history  of  the  first  European  estab- 
lishment in  the  New  World.  It  presents  in  a 
diminutive  compass  an  epitome  of  the  gross  vices 
which  degrade  civilization,  and  the  grand  political 
errors  which  sometimes  subvert  the  mightiest  em- 
pires. All  law  and  order  being  relaxed  by  cor- 
ruption and  licentiousness,  public  good  was  sacri- 
ficed to  private  interest  and  passion,  the  commu- 
nity was  convulsed  by  divers  factions  and  dissen- 
sions, until  the  whole  was  shaken  asunder  by  two 
aspiring  demagogues,  ambitious  of  the  command 
of  a  petty  fortress  in  a  wilderness,  and  the  su- 
preme control  of  eight-and-thirty  men. 


CHAPTER   V. 

TRANSACTIONS  WITH  THE    NATIVES — SUSPICIOUS 
CONDUCT  OF  GUACANAGARI. 

[I493-] 

THE  tragical  story  of  the  fortress,  as  gathered 
from  the  Indians  at  the  harbor,  received  confirma- 
tion from  another  quarter.  One  of  the  captains, 
Melchor  Maldonado,  coasting  to  the  east  with  his 
caravel  in  search  of  some  more  favorable  situation 
for  a  settlement,  was  boarded  by  a  canoe  in  which 
were  two  Indians.  One  of  them  was  the  brother 
of  Guacanagari,  and  entreated  him,  in  the  name 
of  the  cacique,  to  visit  him  at  the  village  where  he 
lay  ill  of  his  wound.  Maldonado  immediately 
went  to  shore  with  two  or  three  of  his  compan- 
ions. They  found  Guacanagari  confined  by  lame- 
ness to  his  hammock,  surrounded  by  seven  of  his 
wives.  The  cacique  expressed  great  regret  at  not 
being  able  to  visit  the  admiral.  He  related  vari- 
ous particulars  concerning  the  disasters  of  the 
garrison,  and  the  part  which  he  and  his  subjects 
had  taken  in  its  defence,  showing  his  wounded 
leg  bound  up.  His  story  agreed  with  that  already 
related.  After  treating  the  Spaniards  with  his  ac- 
customed hospitality,  he  presented  to  each  of  them 
at  parting  a  golden  ornament. 

On  the  following  morning,  Columbus  repaired 
in  person  to  visit  the  cacique.  To  impress  him 
wkh  an  idea  of  his  present  power  and  importance, 
he  appeared  with  a  numerous  train  of  officers,  all 
richly  dressed  or  in  glittering  armor.  They  found 
Guacanagari  reclining  in  a  hammock  of  cotton 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  q. 
Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib. 
ii.  Hist,  del  Alir.irante,  cap.  49.  Cura  de  los  Pala- 
cios,  cap.  120,  MS.  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  iv. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


87 


net.  He  exhibited  great  emotion  on  beholding 
the  admiral,  and  immediately  adverted  to  the 
death  of  the  Spaniards.  As  he  related  the  disas- 
ters of  the  garrison  he  shed  many  tears,  but  dwelt 
Earticularly  on  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  de- 
;nce  of  his  guests,  pointing  out  several  of  his 
subjects  present  who  had  received  wounds  in  the 
battle.  It  was  evident  from  the  scars  that  the 
wounds  had  been  received  from  Indian  weapons. 
Columbus  was  readily  satisfied  of  the  good  faith 
of  Guacanagari.  When  he  reflected  on  the  many 
.proofs  of  an  open  and  generous  nature,  which  he 
had  given  at  the  time  of  his  shipwreck,  he  could 
not  believe  him  capable  of  so  dark  an  act  of  per- 
fidy. An  exchange  of  presents  now  took  place. 
The  cacique  gave  him  eight  hundred  beads  of  a 
certain  stone  called  ciba,  which  they  considered 
highly  precious,  and  one  hundred  of  gold,  a 
golden  coronet,  and  three  small  calabashes  filled 
with  gold  dust,  and  thought  himself  outdone  in 
munificence  when  presented  with  a  number  of 
glass  beads,  hawks'  bells,  knives,  pins,  needles, 
small  mirrors,  and  ornaments  of  copper,  which 
metal  he  seemed  to  prefer  to  gold.* 

Guacanagari's  leg  had  been  violently  bruised 
by  a  stone.  At  the  request  of  Columbus,  he  per- 
mittee! it  to  be  examined  by  a  surgeon  who  was 
present.  On  removing  the  bandage  no  signs  of  a 
wound  were  to  be  seen,  although  he  shrunk  with 
pain  whenever  the  limb  was  handled. f  As  some 
time  had  elapsed  since  the  battle,  the  external 
bruise  might  have  disappeared,  while  a  tenderness 
remained  in  the  part.  Several  present,  however, 
who  had  not  been  in  the  first  voyage,  and  had 
witnessed  nothing  of  the  generous  conduct  of  the 
cacique,  looked  upon  his  lameness  as  feigned,  and 
the  whole  story  of  the  battle  a  fabrication,  to 
conceal  his  real  perfidy.  Father  Boyle  especially, 
who  was  of  a  vindictive  spirit,  advised  the  ad- 
miral to  make  an  immediate  example  of  the  chief- 
tain. Columbus,  however,  viewed  the  matter  in 
a  different  light.  Whatever  prepossessions  he 
might  have  were  in  favor  of  the  cacique  ;  his  heart 
refused  to  believe  in  his  criminality.  Though  con- 
scious of  innocence,  Guacanagari  might  have 
feared  the  suspicions  of  the  white  men,  and  have 
exaggerated  the  effects  of  his  wound  ;  but  the 
wounds  of  his  subjects  made  by  Indian  weapons, 
and  the  destruction  of  his  village,  were  strong 
proofs  to  Columbus  of  the  truth  of  his  story.  To 
satisfy  his  more  suspicious  followers,  and  to  pacify 
the  friar,  without  gratifying  his  love  for  persecu- 
tion, he  observed  that  true  policy  dictated  amica- 
ble conduct  toward  Guacanagari,  at  least  until  his 
guilt  was  fully  ascertained.  They  had  too  great 
a  force  at  present  to  apprehend  anything  from  his 
hostility,  but  violent  measures  in  this  early  stage 
of  their  intercourse  with  the  natives  might  spread 
a  general  panic,  and  impede  all  their  operations 
on  the  island.  Most  of  his  officers  concurred  in 
this  opinion  ;  so  it  was  determined,  notwithstand- 
ing the  inquisitorial  suggestions  of  the  friar,  to 
take  the  story  of  the  Indians  for  current  truth,  and 
to  continue  to  treat  them  with  friendship. 

At  the  invitation  of  Columbus,  the  cacique, 
though  still  apparently  in  pain  from  his  wound,;): 
accompanied  him  to  the  ships  that  very  evening. 
He  had  wondered  at  the  power  and  grandeur  of 
the  white  men  when  they  first  visited  his  shores 
with  two  small  caravels  ;  his  wonder  was  infinitely 


*  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.     Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i. 
f  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca.     Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap. 

120. 

J  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  89. 


increased  on  beholding  a  fleet  riding  at  anchor  in 
the  harbor,  and  on  going  on  board  of  the  admiral's 
ship,  which  was  a  vessel  of  heavy  burden.  Here 
he  beheld  the  Carib  prisoners.  So  great  was  the 
dread  of  them  among  the  timid  inhabitants  of 
Hayti,  that  they  contemplated  them  with  fear  and 
shuddering,  even  though  in  chains.*  That  the 
admiral  had  dared  to  invade  these  terrible  beings 
in  their  very  island,  and  had  dragged  them  as 
it  were  from  their  strongholds,  was,  perhaps, 
one  of  the  greatest  proofs  to  the  Indians  of  the 
irresistible  prowess  of  the  white  men. 

Columbus  took  the  cacique  through  the  ship. 
The  various  works  of  art  ;  the  plants  and  fruits  of 
the  Old  World  ;  domestic  fowls  of  different  kinds, 
cattle,  sheep,  swine,  and  other  animals,  brought 
to  stock  the  island,  all  were  wonders  to  him  ;  but 
what  most  struck  him  with  amazement  was  the 
horses.  He  had  never  seen  any  but  the  most 
diminutive  quadrupeds,  and  was  astonished  at 
their  size,  their  great  strength,  terrific  appearance, 
yet  perfect  docility.f  He  looked  upon  all  these 
extraordinary  objects  as  so  many  wonders  brought 
from  heaven,  which  he  still  believed  to  be  the 
native  home  of  the  white  men. 

On  board  of  the  ship  were  ten  of  the  women 
delivered  from  Carib  captivity.  They  were  chiefly 
natives  of  the  island  of  Boriquen,  or  Porto  Rico. 
These  soon  attracted  the  notice  of  the  cacique, 
who  is  represented  to  have  been  of  an  amorous 
complexion.  He  entered  into  conversation  with 
them  ;  for  though  the  islanders  spoke  different 
languages,  or  rather,  as  is  more  probable,  differ- 
ent dialects  of  the  same  language,  they  were  able, 
in  general,  to  understand  each  other.  'Among 
these  women  was  one  distinguished  above  her 
companions  by  a  certain  loftiness  of  air  and  man- 
ner ;  she  had  been  much  noticed  and  admired  by 
the  Spaniards,  who  had  given  her  the  name  of 
Catalina.  The  cacique  spoke  to  her  repeatedly 
with  great  gentleness  of  tone  and  manner,  pity  in 
all  probability  being  mingled  with  his  admira- 
tion ;  for  though  rescued  from  the  hands  of  the 
Caribs,  she  and  her  companions  were  in  a  manner 
captives  on  board  of  the  ship. 

A  collation  was  now  spread  before  the  chieftain, 
and  Columbus  endeavored  in  every  way  to  revive 
their  former  cordial  intercourse.  He  treated  his 
guest  with  every  manifestation  of  perfect  confi- 
dence, and  talked  of  coming  to  live  with  him  in 
his  present  residence,  and  of  building  houses  in 
the  vicinity.  The  cacique  expressed  much  satis- 
faction at  the  idea,  but  observed  that  the  situation 
of  the  place  was  unhealthy,  which  was  indeed  the 
case.  Notwithstanding  every  demonstration  of 
friendship,  however,  the  cacique  was  evidently  ill 
at  ease.  The  charm  of  mutual  confidence  was 
broken.  It  was  evident  that  the  gross  licentious- 
ness of  the  garrison  had  greatly  impaired  the  ven- 
eration of  the  Indians  for  their  heaven-born  vis- 
itors. Even  the  reverence  for  the  symbols  of  the 
Christian  faith,  which  Columbus  endeavored  to 
inculcate,  was  frustrated  by  the  profligacy  of  its 
votaries.  Though  fond  of  ornaments,  it  was  with 
the  greatest  difficulty  the  cacique  could  be  pre- 
vailed upon  by  the  admiral  to  suspend  an  image 
of  the  Virgin  about  his  neck,  when  he  understood 
it  to  be  an  object  of  Christian  adoration.  J 

The  suspicions  of  the  chieftain's  guilt  gained 
ground  with  many  of  the  Spaniards.  Father 


*  Peter  Martyr,  Letter  153  to  Pomponius  Lsetus. 
f  Hist,   del  Almirante,   ubi  sup.       Letter  of    Dr. 
Chanca. 
J  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  49. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Boyle,  in  particular,  regarded  him  with  an  evil 
eye,  and  privately  advised  the  admiral,  now  that 
he  had  him  on  board,  to  detain  him  prisoner  ;  but 
Columbus  rejected  the  counsel  of  the  crafty  friar, 
as  contrary  to  sound  policy  and  honorable  faith. 
It  is  difficult,  however,  to  conceal  lurking  ill-will. 
The  cacique,  accustomed,  in  his  former  inter- 
course with  the  Spaniards,  to  meet  with  faces 
beaming  with  gratitude  and  friendship,  could  not 
but  perceive  their  altered  looks.  Notwithstanding 
the  frank  and  cordial  hospitality  of  the  admiral, 
therefore,  he  soon  begged  permission  to  return  to 
land.* 

The  next  morning  there  was  a  mysterious  move- 
ment among  the  natives  on  shore.  A  messenger 
from  the  cacique  inquired  of  the  admiral  how  long 
he  intended  to  remain  at  the  harbor,  and  was  in- 
formed that  he  should  sail  on  the  following  day. 
In  the  evening  the  brother  of  Guacanagari  came 
on  board,  under  pretext  of  bartering  a  quantity  of 
gold  ;  he  was  observed  to  converse  in  private  with 
the  Indian  women,  and  particularly  with  Catalina, 
the  one  whose  distinguished  appearance  had  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Guacanagari.  After  re- 
maining some  time  on  board,  he  returned  to  the 
shore.  It  would  seem,  from  subsequent  events, 
that  the  cacique  had  been  touched  by  the  situation 
of  this  Indian  beauty,  or  captivated  by  her  charms, 
and  had  undertaken  to  deliver  her  from  bondage. 

At  midnight,  when  the  crew  were  buried  in 
their  first  sleep,  Catalina  awakened  her  compan- 
ions. The  ship  was  anchored  full  three  miles 
from  the  shore,  and  the  sea  was  rough  ;  but  they 
let  themselves  down  from  the  side  of  the  vessel, 
and  swam  bravely  for  the  shore.  With  all  their 
precautions  they  were  overheard  by  the  watch, 
and  the  alarm  was  given.  The  boats  were  hastily 
manned,  and  gave  chase  in  the  direction  of  a  light 
blazing  on  the  shore,  an  evident  beacon  for  the 
fugitives.  Such  was  the  vigor  of  these  sea-nymphs 
that  they  reached  the  land  in  safety  ;  four  were 
retaken  on  the  beach,  but  the  heroic  Catalina  with 
the  rest  of  her  companions  made  good  their  es- 
cape into  the  forest. 

When  the  day  dawned,  Columbus  sent  to  Gua- 
canagari to  demand  the  fugitives  ;  or  if  they  were 
not  in  his  possession,  that  he  would  have  search 
made  for  them.  The  residence  of  the  cacique, 
however,  was  silent  and  deserted  ;  not  an  Indian 
was  to  be  seen.  Either  conscious  of  the  suspi- 
cions of  the  Spaniards,  and  apprehensive  of  their 
hostility,  or  desirous  to  enjoy  his  prize  unmolest- 
ed, the  cacique  had  removed  with  all  his  effects, 
his  household,  and  his  followers,  and  had  taken 
refuge  with  his  island  beauty  in  the  interior.  This 
sudden  and  mysterious  desertion  gave  redoubled 
force  to  the  doubts  heretofore  entertained,  and 
Guacanagari  was  generally  stigmatized  as  a  traitor 
to  the  white  men,  and  the  perfidious  destroyer  of 
the  garrison.f 


CHAPTER   VI. 

FOUNDING    OF    THE    CITY     OF   ISABELLA — MALA- 
DIES  OF  THE  SPANIARDS. 

['493-] 

THE  misfortunes  of  the  Spaniards  both  by  sea 
and  land,  in  the  vicinity  of  this  harbor,  threw  a 
gloom  round  the  neighborhood.  The  ruins  of  the 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad   i.  lib.  ii. 
t  Peter   Martyr,  decad.   i.   lib.   ii.      Letter  of  Dr. 
Chanca.     Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  120,  MS. 


fortress,  and  the  graves  of  their  murdered  coun- 
trymen, were  continually  before  their  eyes,  and 
the  forests  no  longer  looked  beautiful  while  there 
was  an  idea  that  treachery  might  be  lurking  in 
their  shades.  The  silence  and  dreariness,  also, 
caused  by  the  desertion  of  the  natives,  gave  a 
sinister  appearance  to  the  place.  It  began  to  be 
considered  by  the  credulous  mariners  as  under 
some  baneful  influence  or  malignant  star.  These 
were  sufficient  objections  to  discourage  the 
founding  of  a  settlement,  but  there  were  others  of 
a  more  solid  nature.  The  land  in  the  vicinity 
was  low,  moist,  and  unhealthy,  and  there  was 
no  stone  for  building  ;  Columbus  determined, 
therefore,  to  abandon  the  place  altogether,  and 
found  his  projected  colony  in  some  more  favorable 
situation.  No  time  was  to  be  lost  ;  the  animals 
on  board  the  ships  were  suffering  from  long  con- 
finement ;  and  the  multitude  of  persons,  unac- 
customed to  the  sea,  and  pent  up  in  the  fleet, 
languished  for  the  refreshment  of  the  land.  The 
lighter  caravels,  therefore,  scoured  the  coast  in 
each  direction,  entering  the  rivers  and  harbors, 
in  search  of  an  advantageous  site.  They  were 
instructed  also  to  make  inquiries  after  Guacana- 
gari, of  whom  Columbus,  notwithstanding  every 
suspicious  appearance,  still  retained  a  favorable 
opinion.  The  expeditions  returned  after  ranging 
a  considerable  extent  of  coast  without  success. 
There  were  fine  rivers  and  secure  ports,  but  the 
coast  was  low  and  marshy,  and  deficient  in  stone. 
The  country  was  generally  deserted,  or  if  any  na- 
tives were  seen,  they  fled  immediately  to  the 
woods.  Melchor  Maldonado  had  proceeded  to 
the  eastward,  until  he  came  to  the  dominions  of  a 
cacique,  who  at  first  issued  forth  at  the  head  of  his 
warriors,  with  menacing  aspect,  but  was  readily 
conciliated.  From  him  he  learned  that  Guaca- 
nagari had  retired  to  the  mountains.  Another 
party  discovered  an  Indian  concealed  near  a  ham- 
let, having  been  disabled  by  a  wound  received 
from  a  lance  when  fighting  against  Caonabo.  His 
account  of  the  destruction  of  the  fortress  agreed 
with  that  of  the  Indians  at  the  harbor,  and  con- 
curred to  vindicate  the  cacique  from  the  charge  of 
treachery.  Thus  the  Spaniards  continued  uncer- 
tain as  to  the  real  perpetrators  of  this  dark  and 
dismal  tragedy. 

Being  convinced  that  there  was  no  place  in  this 
part  of  the  island  favorable  for  a  settlement,  Co- 
lumbus weighed  anchor  on  the  7th  of  December, 
with  the  intention  of  seeking  the  port  of  La  Plata. 
In  consequence  of  adverse  weather,  however,  he 
was  obliged  to  put  into  a  harbor  about  ten  leagues 
east  of  Monte  Christi  ;  and  on  considering  the 
place,  was  struck  with  its  advantages. 

The  harbor  was  spacious,  and  commanded  by  a 
point  of  land  protected  on  one  side  by  a  natural 
rampart  of  rocks,  and  on  another  by  an  impervi- 
ous forest,  presenting  a  strong  position  for  a  fort- 
ress. There  were  two  rivers,  one  large  and  the 
other  small,  watering  a  green  and  beautiful  plain, 
and  offering  advantageous  situations  for  mills. 
About  a  bpw-shot  from  the  sea,  on  the  banks  of 
one  of  the  rivers,  was  an  Indian  village.  The  soil 
appeared  to  be  fertile,  the  waters  to  abound  in 
excellent  fish,  and  the  climate  to  be  temperate  and 
genial  ;  for  the  trees  were  in  leaf,  the  shrubs  in 
flower,  and  the  birds  in  song,  though  it  was  the 
middle  of  December.  They  had  not  yet  become 
familiarized  with  the  temperature  of  this  favored 
island,  where  the  rigors  of  winter  are  unknown, 
where  there  is  a  perpetual  succession,  and  even 
intermixture  of  fruit  and  flower,  and  where  smil- 
ing verdure  reigns  throughout  the  year. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


89 


Another  grand  inducement  to  form  their  settle- 
ment in  this  place  was  the  information  received 
from  the  Indians  of  the  adjacent  village,  that  the 
mountains  of  Cibao,  where  the  gold  mines  were 
situated,  lay  at  no  great  distance,  and  almost 
parallel  to  the  harbor.  It  was  determined,  there- 
fore, that  there  could  not  be  a  situation  more 
favorable  for  their  colony. 

An  animated  scene  now  commenced.  The 
troops  and  various  persons  belonging  to  the  land- 
service,  and  the  various  laborers  and  artificers  to 
be  employed  in  building,  were  disembarked.  The 
provisions,  articles  of  traffic,  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion for  defence,  and  implements  of  every  kind, 
were  brought  to  shore,  as  were  also  the  cattle  and 
live  stock,  which  had  suffered  excessively  from 
long  restraint,  especially  the  horses.  There  was 
a  general  joy  at  escaping  from  the  irksome  con- 
finement of  the  ships,  and  once  more  treading  the 
firm  earth,  and  breathing  the  sweetness  of  the 
fields.  An  encampment  was  formed  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  plain,  around  a  basin  or  sheet  of  water, 
and  in  a  little  while  the  whole  place  was  in 
activity.  Thus  was  founded  the  first  Christian 
city  of  the  New  World,  to  which  Columbus  gave 
the  name  of  Isabella,  in  honor  of  his  royal  pat- 
roness. 

A  plan  was  formed,  and  streets  and  squares  pro- 
jected. The  greatest  diligence  was  then  exerted 
in  erecting  a  church,  a  public  storehouse,  and  a 
residence  for  the  admiral.  These  were  built  of 
stone,  the  private  houses  were  constructed  of 
wood,  plaster,  reeds,  or  such  materials  as  the 
exigency  of  the  case  permitted,  and  for  a  short 
time  every  one  exerted  himself  with  the  utmost 
zeal. 

Maladies,  however,  soon  broke  out.  Many,  un- 
accustomed to  the  sea,  had  suffered  greatly  from 
confinement  and  sea-sickness,  and  from  subsisting 
for  a  length  of  time  on  salt  provisions  much  dam- 
aged, and  mouldy  biscuit.  They  suffered  great 
exposure  on  the  land,  also,  before  houses  could 
be  built  for  their  reception  ;  tor  the  exhalations  of 
a  hot  and  moist  climate,  and  a  new,  rank  soil,  the 
humid  vapors  from  rivers,  and  the  stagnant  air  of 
close  forests,  render  the  wilderness  a  place  of 
severe  trial  to  constitutions  accustomed  to  old 
and  highly-cultivated  countries.  The  labor  also 
of  building  houses,  clearing  fields,  setting  out 
orchards,  and  planting  gardens,  having  all  to  be 
done  with  great  haste,  bore  hard  upon  men  who, 
after  tossing  so  long  upon  the  ocean,  stood  in  need 
of  relaxation  and  repose. 

The  maladies  of  the  mind  mingled  with  those 
of  the  body.  Many,  as  has  been  shown,  had  em- 
barked in  the  expedition  with  visionary  and  ro- 
mantic expectations.  Some  had  anticipated  the 
golden  regions  of  Cipango  and  Cathay,  where  they 
were  to  amass  wealth  without  toil  or  trouble  ; 
others  a  region  of  Asiatic  luxury,  abounding  with 
delights  ;  and  others  a  splendid  and  open  career 
for  gallant  adventures  and  chivalrous  enterprises. 
What  then  was  their  disappointment  to  find  them- 
selves confined  to  the  margin  of  an  island  ;  sur- 
rounded by  impracticable  forests  ;  doomed  to 
struggle  with  the  rudeness  of  a  wilderness  ;  to  toil 
painfully  for  mere  subsistence,  and  to  attain  every 
comfort  by  the  severest  exertion.  As  to  gold,  it 
was  brought  to  them  from  various  quarters,  but 
in  small  quantities,  and  it  was  evidently  to  be  pro- 
cured only  by  patient  and  persevering  labor.  All 
these  disappointments  sank  deep  into  their  hearts  ; 
their  spirits  flagged  as  their  golden  dreams  melted 
away,  and  the  gloom  of  despondency  aided  the 
ravages  of  disease. 


Columbus  himself  did  not  escape  the  prevalent 
maladies.  The  arduous  nature  of  his  enterprise, 
the  responsibility  under  which  he  found  himself, 
not  merely  to  his  followers  and  his  sovereigns,  but 
to  the  world  at  large,  had  kept  his  mind  in  con- 
tinual agitation.  The  cares  of  so  large  a  squad- 
ron ;  the  incessant  vigilance  required,  not  only 
against  the  lurking  dangers  of  these  unknown 
seas,  but  against  the  passions  and  follies  of  his 
followers  ;  the  distress  he  had  suffered  from  the 
fate  of  his  murdered  garrison,  and  his  uncertainty 
as  to  the  conduct  of  the  barbarous  tribes  by  which 
he  was  surrounded  ;  all  these  had  harassed  his 
mind  and  broken  his  rest  while  on  board  the  ship  : 
since  landing  new  cares  and  toils  had  crowded 
upon  him,  which,  added  to  the  exposures  incident 
to  his  situation  in  this  new  climate,  completely 
overpowered  his  strength.  Still,  though  confined 
for  several  weeks  to  his  bed  by  severe  illness,  his 
energetic  mind  rose  superior  to  the  sufferings  of 
the  body,  and  he  continued  to  give  directions 
about  the  building  of  the  city,  and  to  superintend 
the  general  concerns  of  the  expedition.* 


CHAPTER   VII. 

EXPEDITION  OF  ALONSO  DE  OJEDA  TO  EXPLORE 
THE  INTERIOR  OF  THE  ISLAND — DISPATCH  OF 
THE  SHIPS  TO  SPAIN. 

[H93-] 

THE  ships  having  discharged  their  cargoes,  it 
was  necessary  to  send  the  greater  part  of  them 
back  to  Spain.  Here  new  anxieties  pressed 
upon  the  mind  of  Columbus.  He  had  hoped  to 
find  treasures  of  gold  and  precious  merchandise 
accumulated  by  the  men  left  behind  on  the  first 
voyage  ;  pr  at  least  the  sources  of  wealthy  traffic 
ascertained,  by  which  speedily  to  freight  his  ves- 
sels. The  destruction  of  the  garrison  had  defeat- 
ed all  those  hopes.  He  was  aware  of  the  extrava- 
gant expectations  entertained  by  the  sovereigns 
and  the  nation.  What  would  be  their  disappoint- 
ment when  the  returning  ships  brought  nothing 
but  a  tale  of  disaster  !  Something  must  be  done, 
before  the  vessels  sailed,  to  keep  up  the  fame  of 
his  discoveries,  and  justify  his  own  magnificent 
representations. 

As  yet  he  knew  nothing  of  the  interior  of  the 
island.  If  it  were  really  the  island  of  Cipango,  it 
must  contain  populous  cities,  existing  probably  in 
some  more  cultivated  region,  beyond  the  lofty 
mountains  with  which  it  was  intersected.  All  the 
Indians  concurred  in  mentioning  Cibao  as  the 
tract  of  country  whence  they  derived  their  gold. 
The  very  name  of  its  cacique,  Caonabo,  signifying 
"  The  Lord  of  the  Golden  House,"  seemed  to  in- 
dicate the  wealth  of  his  dominions.  The  tracts 
where  the  mines  were  said  to  abound  lay  at  a 
distance  of  but  three  or  four  days'  journey,  di- 
rectly in  the  interior  ;  Columbus  determined, 
therefore,  to  send  an  expedition  to  explore  it,  pre- 
vious to  the  sailing  of  the  ships.  If  the  result 
should  confirm  his  hopes,  he  would  then  be  able 
to  send  home  the  fleet  with  confidence,  bearing 
tidings  of  the  discovery  of  the  golden  mountains 
of  Cibao. f 

The   person   he   chose  for  this  enterprise  was 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  50.  Herrera,  Hist. 
Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  10.  Peter  Martyr,  decad 
i.  lib.  ii.  Letter  of  Dr.  Chanca,  etc. 

\  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  dec.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  10. 


90 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Alonso  de  Ojeda,  the  same  cavalier  who  has  been 
already  noticed  for  his  daring  spirit  and  great 
bodily  force  and  agility.  Delighting  in  all  service 
of  a  hazardous  and  adventurous  nature,  Ojeda  was 
the  more  stimulated  to  this  expedition  from  the 
formidable  character  of  the  mountain  cacique, 
Caonabo,  whose  dominions  he  was  to  penetrate. 
He  set  out  from  the  harbor,  early  in  January, 
1494,  accompanied  by  a  small  force  of  well-armed 
and  determined  men,  several  of  them  young  and 
spirited  cavaliers  like  himself.  He  struck  directly 
southward  into  the  interior.  For  the  two  first 
days  the  march  was  toilsome  and  difficult, 
through  a  country  abandoned  by  its  inhabitants  ; 
for  terror  of  the  Spaniards  extended  along  the  sea- 
coast.  On  the  second  evening  they  came  to  a  lofty 
range  of  mountains,  which  they  ascended  by  an 
Indian  path,  winding  up  a  steep  and  narrow  defile, 
and  they  slept  for  the  night  at  the  summit.  Hence, 
the  next  morning,  they  beheld  the  sun  rise  with 
great  glory  over  a  vast  and  delicious  plain,  cov- 
ered with  noble  forests,  studded  with  villages  and 
hamlets,  and  enlivened  by  the  shining  waters  of 
the  Yagui. 

Descending  into  this  plain,  Ojeda  and  his  com- 
panions boldly  entered  the  Indian  villages.  The 
inhabitants,  far  from  being  hostile,  overwhelmed 
them  with  hospitality,  and,  in  fact,  impeded  their 
journey  by  their  kindness.  They  had  also  to  ford 
many  rivers  in  traversing  this  plain,  so  that  they 
were  five  or  six  days  in  reaching  the  chain  of 
mountains  which  locked  up,  as  it  were,  the 
golden  region  of  Cibao.  They  penetrated  into  this 
district,  without  meeting  with  any  other  obstacles 
than  those  presented  by  the  rude  nature  of  the 
country.  Caonabo,  so  redoubtable  for  his  courage 
and  ferocity,  must  have  been  in  some  distant  part 
of  his  dominions,  for  he  never  appeared  to  dispute 
their  progress.  The  natives  received  them  with 
kindness  ;  they  were  naked  and  uncivilized,  like 
the  other  inhabitants  of  the  island,  nor  were  there 
any  traces  of  the  important  cities  which  their  im- 
aginations had  once  pictured  forth.  They  saw, 
however,  ample  signs  of  natural  wealth.  The 
sands  of  the  mountain-streams  glittered  with  par- 
ticles of  gold  ;  these  the  natives  would  skilfully 
separate,  and  give  to  the  Spaniards,  without  ex- 
pecting a  recompense.  In  some  places  they  picked 
up  large  specimens  of  virgin  ore  from  the  beds  of 
the  torrents,  and  stones  streaked  and  richly  im- 
pregnated with  it.  Peter  Martyr  affirms  that  he 
saw  a  mass  of  rude  gold  weighing  nine  ounces, 
which  Ojeda  himself  had  found  in  one  of  the 
brooks.* 

All  these  were  considered  as  mere  superficial 
washings  of  the  soil,  betraying  the  hidden  treas- 
ures lurking  in  the  deep  veins  and  rocky  bosoms 
of  the  mountains,  and  only  requiring  the  hand  of 
labor  to  bring  them  to  light.  As  the  object  of  his 
expedition  was  merely  to  ascertain  the  nature  of 
the  country,  Ojeda  led  back  his  little  band  to  the 
harbor,  full  of  enthusiastic  accounts  of  the  golden 
promise  of  these  mountains.  A  young  cavalier  of 
the  name  of  Gorvalan,  who  had  been  dispatched 
at  the  same  time  on  a  similar  expedition,  and  who 
had  explored  a  different  tract  of  country,  returned 
with  similar  reports.  These  flattering  accounts 
served  for  a  time  to  reanimate  the  drooping  and 
desponding  colonists,  and  induced  Columbus  to 
believe  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  explore  the 
mines  of  Cibao,  to  open  inexhaustible  sources  of 
riches.  He  determined,  as  soon  as  his  health 
would  permit,  to  repair  in  person  to  the  moun- 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii. 


tains,  and  seek  a  favorable  site  for  a  mining  es- 
tablishment.* 

The  season  was  now  propitious  for  the  return  of 
the  fleet,  and  Columbus  lost  no  time  in  dispatching 
twelve  of  the  ships  under  the  command  of  Antonio 
de  Torres,  retaining  only  five  for  the  service  of  the 
colony. 

By  this  opportunity  he  sent  home  specimens  of 
the  gold  found  among  the  mountains  and  rivers 
of  Cibao,  and  all  such  fruits  and  plants  as  were 
curious,  or  appeared  to  be  valuable.  He  wrote 
in  the  most  sanguine  terms  of  the  expeditions  of 
Ojeda  and  Gorvalan,  the  last  of  whom  returned 
to  Spain  in  the  fleet.  He  repeated  his  confident 
anticipations  of  soon  being  able  to  make  abundant 
shipments  of  gold,  of  precious  drugs,  and  spices  ; 
the  search  for  them  being  delayed  for  the  present 
by  the  sickness  of  himself  and  people,  and  the 
cares  and  labors  required  in  building  the  infant 
city.  He  described  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the 
island  ;  its  range  of  noble  mountains  ;  its  wide, 
abundant  plains,  watered  by  beautiful  rivers  ;  the 
quick  fecundity  of  the  soil,  evinced  in  the  luxuriant 
growth  of  the  sugar-cane,  and  of  various  grains 
and  vegetables  brought  from  Europe. 

As  it  would  take  some  time,  however,  to  obtain 
provisions  from  their  fields  and  gardens,  and  the 
produce  of  their  live  stock,  adequate  to  the  sub- 
sistence of  the  colony,  which  consisted  of  about  a 
thousand  souls  ;  and  as  they  could  not  accustom 
themselves  to  the  food  of  the  natives,  Columbus 
requested  present  supplies  from  Spain.  Their 
provisions  were  already  growing  scanty.  Much 
of  their  wine  had  been  lost,  from  the  badness  of 
the  casks  ;  and  the  colonists,  in  their  infirm  state 
of  health,  suffered  greatly  from  the  want  of  their 
accustomed  diet.  There  was  an  immediate  nec- 
essity of  medicines,  clothing,  and  arms.  Horses 
were  required  likewise  for  the  public  works,  and 
for  military  service  ;  being  found  of  great  effect 
in  awing  the  natives,  who  had  the  utmost  dread 
of  those  animals.  He  requested  also  an  addition- 
al number  of  workmen  and  mechanics,  and  men 
skilled  in  mining  and  in  smelting  and  purifying 
ore.  He  recommended  various  persons  to  the 
notice  and  favor  of  the  sovereigns,  among  whom 
was  Pedro  Margerite,  an  Arragonian  cavalier  of 
the  order  of  St.  Jago,  who  had  a  wife  and  children 
to  be  provided  for,  and  who,  for  his  good  services, 
Columbus  begged  might  be  appointed  to  a  com- 
mand in  the  order  to  which  he  belonged.  In  like 
manner  he  entreated  patronage  for  Juan  Aguado, 
who  was  about  to  return  in  the  fleet,  making  par- 
ticular mention  of  his  merits.  From  both  of  these 
men  he  was  destined  to  experience  the  most  sig- 
nal ingratitude. 

In  these  ships  he  sent  also  the  men,  women, 
and  children  taken  in  the  Caribbee  Islands,  rec- 
ommending that  they  should  be  carefully  instruct- 
ed in  the  Spanish  language  and  the  Christian 
faith.  From  the  roving  and  adventurous  nature 
of  these  people,  and  their  general  acquaintance 
with  the  various  languages  of  this  great  archipela- 
go, he  thought  that,  when  the  precepts  of  religion 
and  the  usages  of  civilization  had  reformed  their 
savage  manners  and  cannibal  propensities,  they 
might  be  rendered  eminently  serviceable  as  inter- 
preters, and  as  means  of  propagating  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity. 

Among  the  many  sound  and  salutary  sugges- 
tions in  this  letter,  there  is  one  of  a  most  perni- 
cious tendency,  written  in  that  mistaken  view  of 
natural  rights  prevalent  at  the  day,  but  fruitful  of 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  50. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


91 


much  wrong  and  misery  in  the  world.  Consider- 
ing that  the  greater  the  number  of  these  cannibal 
pagans  transferred  to  the  Catholic  soil  of  Spain, 
the  greater  \vould  be  the  number  of  souls  put  in 
the  way  of  salvation,  he  proposed  to  establish  an 
exchange  of  them  as  slaves,  against  live  stock,  to 
be  furnished  by  merchants  to  the  colony.  The 
ships  to  bring  such  stock  were  to  land  nowhere  but 
at  the  Island  of  Isabella,  where  the  Carib  captives 
would  be  ready  tor  delivery.  A  duty  was  to  be 
levied  on  each  slave  for  the  benefit  of  the  royal 
revenue.  In  this  way  the  colony  would  be  fur- 
nished with  all  kinds  of  live  stock  free  of  expense  ; 
the  peaceful  islanders  would  be  freed  from  war- 
like and  inhuman  neighbors  ;  the  royal  treasury 
would  be  greatly  enriched  ;  and  a  vast  number  of 
souls  would  be  snatched  from  perdition,  and  car- 
ried, as  it  were,  by  main  force  to  heaven.  Such  is 
the  strange  sophistry  by  which  upright  men  may 
sometimes  deceive  themselves.  Columbus  feared 
the  disappointment  of  the  sovereigns  in  respect  to 
the  product  of  his  enterprises,  and  was  anxious  to 
devise  some  mode  of  lightening  their  expenses 
until  he  could  open  some  ample  source  of  profit. 
The  conversion  of  infidels,  by  fair  means  or  foul, 
by  persuasion  or  force,  was  one  of  the  popular 
tenets  of  the  day  ;  and  in  recommending  the  en- 
slaving of  the  Caribs,  Columbus  thought  that  he 
was  obeying  the  dictates  of  his  conscience,  when 
he  was  in  reality  listening  to  the  incitements  of 
his  interest.  It  is  but  just  to  add,  that  the  sove- 
reigns did  not  accord  with  his  ideas,  but  ordered 
that  the  Caribs  should  be  converted  like  the  rest 
of  the  islanders  ;  a  command  which  emanated 
from  the  merciful  heart  of  Isabella,  who  ever 
showed  herself  the  benign  protectress  of  the  In- 
dians. 

The  fleet  put  to  sea  on  the  2d  of  February,  1494. 
Though  it  brought  back  no  wealth  to  Spain,  yet 
expectation  was  kept  alive  by  the  sanguine  letter 
of  Columbus,  and  the  specimens  of  gold  which  he 
transmitted  ;  his  favorable  accounts  were  corrob- 
orated by  letters  from  Friar  Boyle,  Doctor  Chanca, 
and  other  persons  of  credibility,  and  by  the  per- 
sonal reports  of  Gorvalan.  The  sordid  calcula- 
tions of  petty  spirits  were  as  yet  overruled  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  generous  minds,  captivated  by  the 
lofty  nature  of  these  enterprises.  There  was  some- 
thing wonderfully  grand  in  the  idea  of  thus  intro- 
ducing new  races  of  animals  and  plants,  of  build- 
ing cities,  extending  colonies,  and  sowing  the 
seeds  of  civilization  and  of  enlightened  empire  in 
this  beautiful  but  savage  world.  It  struck  the 
minds  of  learned  and  classical  men  with  admira- 
tion, filling  them  with  pleasant  dreams  and  reve- 
ries, and  seeming  to  realize  the  poetical  pictures 
of  the  olden  time.  "Columbus,"  says  old  Peter 
Martyr,  "  has  begun  to  build  a  city,  as  he  has 
lately  written  to  me,  and  to  sow  our  seeds  and 
propagate  our  animals!  Who  of  us  shall  now 
speak  with  wonder  of  Saturn,  Ceres,  and  Triptol- 
emus,  travelling  about  the  earth  to  spread  new 
inventions  among  mankind  ?  Or  of  the  Phoeni- 
cians who  built  Tyre  or  Sidon  ?  Or  of  the  Tyrians 
themselves,  whose  roving  desires  led  them  to 
migrate  into  foreign  lands,  to  build  new  cities, 
and  establish  new  communities  ?"* 

Such  were  the  comments  of  enlightened  and 
benevolent  men,  who  hailed  with  enthusiasm  the 
discovery  of  the  New  World,  not  for  the  wealth  it 
would  bring  to  Europe,  but  for  the  field  it  would 
open  for  glorious  and  benevolent  enterprise,  and 
the  blessings  and  improvements  of  civilized  life, 


*  Letier  153  lo  Pomponius  Lrctus. 


which  it  would  widely  dispense  through  barbarous 
and  uncultivated  regions. 

NOTE. 

Isabella  at  the  present  day  is  quite  overgrown  with 
forest, 'in  the  midst  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen,  partly 
standing,  the  pillars  of  the  church,  some  remains  of 
the  king's  storehouses,  and  part  of  the  residence  of 
Columbus,  all  built  of  hewn  stone.  The  small  fortress 
is  also  a  prominent  ruin  ;  and  a  little  north  of  it  is  a 
ciicular  pillar  about  ten  feet  high  and  as  much  in 
diameter,  of  solid  masonry,  nearly  entire  ;  which  ap- 
pears to  have  had  a  wooden  gallery  or  battlement 
round  the  top  for  the  convenience  of  room,  and  in  the 
centre  of  which  was  planted  the  flagstaff.  Having 
discovered  the  remains  of  an  iron  clamp  imbedded  in 
the  stone,  which  served  to  secure  the  flagstaff  itself, 
I  tore  it  out,  and  now  consign  to  you  this  curious 
relic  of  the  first  foothold  of  civilization  in  the  New 
World,  after  it  has  been  exposed  to  the  elements  nearly 
three  hundred  and  fifty  years. — From  the  Letter  of  T. 
S.  Heneken,  Esq. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DISCONTENTS  AT   ISABELLA — MUTINY  OF  BERNAL 
DIAZ  DE  PISA. 

['494.] 

THE  embryo  city  of  Isabella  was  rapidly  assum- 
ing a  form.  A  dry  stone  wall  surrounded  it,  to 
protect  it  from  any  sudden  attack  of  the  natives, 
although  the  most  friendly  disposition  was  evinced 
by  the  Indians  of  the  vicinity,  who  brought  sup- 
plies of  their  simple  articles  of  food,  and  gave 
them  in  exchange  for  European  trifles.  On  the 
day  of  the  Epiphany,  the  6th  of  February,  the 
church  being  sufficiently  completed,  high  mass  was 
celebrated  with  great  pomp  and  ceremony,  by  Friar 
Boyle  and  the  twelve  ecclesiastics.  The  affairs 
of  the  settlement  being  thus  apparently  in  a  regu- 
lar train,  Columbus,  though  still  confined  by  indis- 
position, began  to  make  arrangements  for  his  con- 
templated expedition  to  the  mountains  of  Cibao, 
when  an  unexpected  disturbance  in  his  little  com- 
munity for  a  time  engrossed  his  attention. 

The  sailing  of  the  fleet  for  Spain  had  been  a 
melancholy  sight  to  many  whose  terms  of  enlist- 
ment compelled  them  to  remain  on  the  island. 
Disappointed  in  their  expectations  of  immediate 
wealth,  disgusted  with  the  labors  imposed  on 
them,  and  appalled  by  the  maladies  prevalent 
throughout  the  community,  they  began  to  look 
with  horror  upon  the  surrounding  wilderness,  are 
destined  to  be  the  grave  of  their  hopes  and  of 
themselves.  When  the  last  sail  disappeared,  they 
felt  as  if  completely  severed  from  their  country  ; 
and  the  tender  recollections  of  home,  which  had 
been  checked  for  a  time  by  the  novelty  and  bustle 
around  them,  rushed  with  sudden  force  upon  their 
minds.  To  return  to  Spain  became  their  ruling 
idea,  and  the  same  want  of  reflection  which  had 
hurried  them  into  the  enterprise,  without  inquir- 
ing into  its  real  nature,  now  prompted  them  to 
extricate  themselves  from  it,  by  any  means  how- 
ever desperate. 

Where  popular  discontents  prevail  there  is  sel- 
dom wanting  some  daring  spirit  to  give  them  a 
dangerous  direction.  One  Bernard  Diaz  de  Pisa,  a 
man  of  some  importance,  who  had  held  a  civil 
office  about  the  court,  had  come  out  with  the  ex- 
pedition as  comptroller  ;  he  seems  to  have  pre- 
sumed upon  his  official  powers,  and  to  have  had 
early  differences  with  the  admiral.  Disgusted 
with  his  employment  in  the  colony,  he  soon  made 


92 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


a  faction  among  the  discontented,  and  proposed 
that  they  should  take  advantage  of  the  indisposi- 
tion of  Columbus,  to  seize  upon  some  or  all  of  the 
five  ships  in  the  harbor,  and  return  in  them  to 
Spain.  It  would  be  easy  to  justify  their  clandes- 
tine return,  by  preferring  a  complaint  against  the 
admiral,  representing  the  fallacy  of  his  enter- 
prises, and  accusing  him  of  gross  deceptions  and 
exaggerations  in  his  accounts  of  the  countries  he 
had  discovered.  It  is  probable  that  some  of  these 
people  really  considered  him  culpable  of  the 
charges  thus  fabricated  against  him  ;  for  in  the 
disappointment  of  their  avaricious  hopes,  they 
overlooked  the  real  value  of  those  fertile  islands, 
which  were  to  enrich  nations  by  the  produce  of 
their  soil.  Every  country  was  sterile  and  unprofit- 
able in  their  eyes  that  did  not  immediately  teem 
with  gold.  Though  they  had  continual  proofs  in 
the  specimens  brought  by  the  natives  to  the  set- 
tlement, or  furnished  to  Ojeda  and  Gorvalan,  that 
the  rivers  and  mountains  in  the  interior  abounded 
with  ore,  yet  even  these  daily  proofs  were  falsified 
in  their  eyes.  One  Fermin  Cedo,  a  wrong-headed 
and  obstinate  man,  who  had  come  out  as  assayer 
and  purifier  of  metals,  had  imbibed  the  same  pre- 
judice against  the  expedition  with  Bernal  Diaz. 
He  pertinaciously  insisted  that  there  was  no  gold 
in  the  island  ;  or  at  least  that  it  was  found  in  such 
inconsiderable  quantities  as  not  to  repay  the 
search.  He  declared  that  the  large  grains  of  vir- 
gin ore  brought  by  the  natives  had  been  melted  ; 
that  they  had  been  the  slow  accumulation  of  many 
years,  having  remained  a  long  time  in  the  families 
of  the  Indians,  and  handed  down  from  generation 
to  generation  ;  which  in  many  instances  was  prob- 
ably the  case.  Other  specimens  of  a  large  size  he 
pronounced  of  a  very  inferior  quality,  and  debased 
with  brass  by  the  natives.  The  words  of  this 
man  outweighed  the  evidence  of  facts,  and  many 
joined  him  in  the  belief  that  the  island  was  really- 
destitute  of  gold.  It  was  not  until  some  time 
afterward  that  the  real  character  of  Fermin  Cedo 
was  ascertained,  and  the  discovery  made  that  his 
ignorance  was  at  least  equal  to  his  obstinacy  and 
presumption  ;  qualities  apt  to  enter  largely  into 
the  compound  of  a  meddlesome  and  mischievous 
man.* 

Encouraged  by  such  substantial  co-operation,  a 
number  of  turbulent  spirits  concerted  to  take  im- 
mediate possession  of  the  ships  and  make  sail  for 
Europe.  The  influence  of  Bernal  Diaz  de  Pisa  at 
court  would  obtain  for  them  a  favorable  hearing, 
and  they  trusted  to  their  unanimous  representa- 
tions, to  prejudice  Columbus  in  the  opinion  of  the 
public,  ever  fickle  in  its  smiles,  and  most  ready  to 
turn  suddenly  and  capriciously  from  the  favorites 
it  has  most  idolized. 

Fortunately  this  mutiny  was  discovered  before 
it  proceeded  to  action.  Columbus  immediately 
ordered  the  ringleaders  to  be  arrested.  On  mak- 
ing investigations,  a  memorial  or  information 
against  himself,  full  of  slanders  and  misrepresent- 
ations, was  found  concealed  in  the  buoy  of  one  of 
the  ships.  It  was  in  the  handwriting  of  Bernal 
Diaz.  The  admiral  conducted  himself  with  great 
moderation.  Out  of  respect  to  the  rank  and  sta- 
tion of  Diaz,  he  forbore  to  inflict  any  punishment ; 
but  confined  him  on  board  one  of  the  ships,  to  be 
sent  to  Spain  for  trial,  together  with  the  process 
or  investigation  of  his  offence,  and  the  seditious 
memorial  which  had  been  discovered.  Several  of 
the  inferior  mutineers  were  punished  according  to 
the  degree  of  their  culpability,  but  not  with  the 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  120,  122,  MS. 


severity  which  their  offence  deserved.  To  guard 
against  any  recurrence  of  a  similar  attempt,  Co- 
lumbus ordered  that  all  the  guns  and  naval  muni- 
tions should  be  taken  out  of  four  of  the  vessels, 
and  put  into  the  principal  ship,  which  was  given 
in  charge  to  persons  in  whom  he  could  place  im- 
plicit confidence.* 

This  was  the  first  time  Columbus  exercised  the 
right  of  punishing  delinquents  in  his  new  govern- 
ment, and  it  immediately  awakened  the  most  vio- 
lent animadversions.  His  measures,  though  nec- 
essary for  the  general  safety,  and  characterized 
by  the  greatest  lenity,  were  censured  as  arbitrary 
and  vindictive.  Already  the  disadvantage  of  be- 
ing a  foreigner  among  the  people  he  was  to  gov- 
ern was  clearly  manifested.  He  had  national  prej- 
udices to  encounter,  of  all  others  the  most  general 
and  illiberal.  He  had  no  natural  friends  to  rally 
round  him  ;  whereas  the  mutineers  had  connec- 
tions in  Spain,  friends  in  the  colony,  and  met  with 
sympathy  in  every  discontented  mind.  An  early 
hostility  was  thus  engendered  against  Columbus, 
which  continued  to  increase  throughout  his  life, 
and  the  seeds  were  sown  of  a  series  of  factions 
and  mutinies  which  afterward  distracted  the 
island. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EXPEDITION  OF  COLUMBUS  TO    THE    MOUNTAINS 
OF   CIBAO. 

[U94-] 

HAVING  at  length  recovered  from  his  long  ill- 
ness, and  the  mutiny  at  the  settlement  being  effect- 
ually checked,  Columbus  prepared  for  his  imme- 
diate departure  for  Cibao.  He  intrusted  the  com- 
mand of  the  city  and  the  ships,  during  his  ab- 
sence, to  his  brother  Don  Diego,  appointing  able 
persons  to  counsel  and  assist  him.  Don  Diego  is 
represented  by  Las  Casas,  who  knew  him  per- 
sonally, as  a  man  of  great  merit  and  discretion, 
of  a  gentle  and  pacific  disposition,  and  more 
characterized  by  simplicity  than  shrewdness.  He 
was  sober  in  his  attire,  wearing  almost  the  dress 
of  an  ecclesiastic,  and  Las  Casas  thinks  he  had 
secret  hopes  of  preferment  in  the  church  ;f  indeed 
Columbus  intimates  as  much  when  he  mentions 
him  in  his  will. 

As  the  admiral  intended  to  build  a  fortress  in 
the  mountains,  and  to  form  an  establishment  for 
working  the  mines,  he  took  with  him  the  neces- 
sary artificers,  workmen,  miners,  munitions,  and 
implements.  He  was  also  about  to  enter  the  ter- 
ritories of  the  redoutable  Caonabo  ;  it  was  impor- 
tant, therefore,  to  take  with  him  a  force  that  should 
not  only  secure  him  against  any  warlike  opposi- 
tion, but  should  spread  through  the  country  a  for- 
midable idea  of  the  power  of  the  white  men,  and 
deter  the  Indians  from  any  future  violence,  either 
toward  communities  or  wandering  individuals. 
Every  healthy  person,  therefore,  who  could  be 
spared  from  the  settlement,  was  put  in  requisition, 
together  with  all  the  cavalry  that  could  be  mus- 
tered ;  and  every  arrangement  was  made  to  strike 
the  savages  with  the  display  of  military  splendor. 

On  the  1 2th  of  March  Columbus  set  out  at  the 
head  of  about  four  hundred  men  well  armed  and 
equipped,  with  shining  helmets  and  corselets  ;  with 


*  Herrera,   Hist.   Ind.,   decad.   i.   lib.   ii.   cap.    n. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  50. 
f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  82,  MS. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


93 


arquebuses,  lances,  swords,  and  cross-bows,  and 
followed  by  a  multitude  of  the  neighboring  In- 
dians. They  sallied  from  the  city  in  martial 
array,  with  banners  flying,  and  sound  of  drum 
and  trumpet.  Their  march  for  the  first  day  was 
across  the  plain  between  the  sea  and  the  moun- 
tains, fording  two  rivers,  and  passing  through  a 
fair  and  verdant  country.  They  encamped  in  the 
evening,  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  fields,  at  the  foot 
of  a  wild  and  rocky  pass  of  the  mountains. 

The  ascent  of  this  rugged  defile  presented  for- 
midable difficulties  to  the  little  army,  incumbered 
as  it  was  with  various  implements  and  munitions. 
There  was  nothing  but  an  Indian  footpath,  wind- 
ing among  rocks  and  precipices,  or  through 
brakes  and  thickets,  entangled  by  the  rich  vegeta- 
tion of  a  tropical  forest.  A  number  of  high-spir- 
ited young  cavaliers  volunteered  to  open  a  route 
for  the  army.  They  had  probably  learnt  this  kind 
of  service  in  the  Moorish  wars,  where  it  was  often 
necessary  on  a  sudden  to  open  roads  for  the  march 
of  troops,  and  the  conveyance  of  artillery  across 
the  mountains  of  Granada.  Throwing  themselves 
in  advance  with  laborers  and  pioneers,  whom  they 
stimulated  by  their  example,  as  well  as  by  promises 
of  liberal  reward,  they  soon  constructed  the  first 
road  formed  in  the  New  World,  and  which  was 
called  El  Puerto  de  los  Hidalgos,  or  The  Gentle- 
men's Pass,  in  honor  of  the  gallant  cavaliers  who 
effected  it.* 

On  the  following  day  the  army  toiled  up  this 
steep  defile,  and  arrived  where  the  gore  of  the 
mountain  opened  into  the  interior.  Here  a  land 
of  promise  suddenly  burst  upon  their  view.  It  was 
the  same  glorious  prospect  which  had  delighted 
Ojeda  and  his  companions.  Below  lay  a  vast  and 
delicious  plain,  painted  and  enamelled,  as  it  were, 
with  all  the  rich  variety  of  tropical  vegetation. 
The  magnificent  forests  presented  that  mingled 
beauty  and  majesty  of  vegetable  forms  known 
only  to  these  generous  climates.  Palms  of  pro- 
digious height,  and  spreading  mahogany  trees, 
towered  from  amid  a  wilderness  of  variegated  fo- 
liage. Freshness  and  verdure  were  maintained 
by  numerous  streams,  which  meandered  gleam- 
ing through  the  deep  bosom  of  the  woodland  ; 
while  various  villages  and  hamlets,  peeping  from 
among  the  trees,  and  the  smoke  of  others  rising  out 
of  the  midst  of  the  forests,  gave  signs  of  a  numer- 
ous population.  The  luxuriant  landscape  extend- 
ed as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  until  it  appeared 
to  melt  away  and  mingle  with  the  horizon.  The 
Spaniards  gazed  with  rapture  upon  this  soft,  vo- 
luptuous country,  which  seemed  to  realize  their 
ideas  of  a  terrestrial  paradise  ;  and  Columbus, 
struck  with  its  vast  extent,  gave  it  the  name  of  the 
Vega  Real,  or  Royal  Plain. f 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  50.  Hidalgo,  i.e.,  Hijo 
de  Algo,  literally,  "  a  son  of  somebody,"  in  contra- 
distinction to  an  obscure  and  low-born  man,  a  son  of 
nobody. 

\  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  90,  MS. 

Extract  of  a  Letter  from  T.    S.   Heneken,   Esq.,   dated 

Santiago  (St.  Domingo),  2oM  September,  1847. 
The  route  over  which  Columbus  traced  his  course 
from  Isabella  to  the  mountains  of  Cibao  exists  in  all 
its  primitive  rudeness.  The  Puerto  de  los  Hidalgos 
is  still  the  narrow  rugged  footpath  winding  among 
rocks  and  precipices,  leading  through  the  only  prac- 
ticable defile  which  traverses  the  Monte  Christ!  range 
of  mountains  in  this  vicinity,  at  present  called  the 
Pass  of  Marney  ;  and  it  is  somewhat  surprising  that, 
of  this  first  and  remarkable  footprint  of  the  white  man 
in  the  New  World,  there  does  not  at  the  present  day 


Having  descended  the  rugged  pass,  the  army- 
issued  upon  the  plain,  in  martial  style,  with  great 
clangor  of  warlike  instruments.  When  the  In- 
dians beheld  this  shining  band  of  warriors,  glitter- 
ing in  steel,  emerging  from  the  mountains  with 
prancing  steeds  and  flaunting  banners,  and 
heard,  for  the  first  time,  their  rocks  and  forests 
echoing  to  the  din  of  drum  and  trumpet,  they 
might  well  have  taken  such  a  wonderful  pageant 
for  a-supernatural  vision. 

In  this  way  Columbus  disposed  of  his  forces 
whenever  he  approached  a  populous  village,  plac- 
ing the  cavalry  in  front,  for  the  horses  inspired  a 
mingled  terror  and  admiration  among  the  natives. 
Las  Casas  observes  that  at  first  they  supposed  the 
rider  and  his  horse  to  be  one  animal,  and  nothing 
could  exceed  their  astonishment  at  seeing  the 
horsemen  dismount,  a  circumstance  which  shows 
that  the  alleged  origin  of  the  ancient  fable  of  the 
centaurs  is  at  least  founded  in  nature.  On  the 
approach  of  the  army  the  Indians  generally  fled 
with  terror,  and  took  refuge  in  their  houses.  Such 
was  their  simplicity,  that  they  merely  put  up  a 
slight  barrier  of  reeds  at  the  portal,  and  seemed  to 
consider  themselves  perfectly  secure.  Columbus, 
pleased  to  meet  with  such  artlessness,  ordered 
that  these  frail  barriers  should  be  scrupulously  re- 
spected, and  the  inhabitants  allowed  to  remain  in 
their  fancied  security.*  By  degrees  their  fears 
were  allayed  through  the  mediation  of  interpret- 
ers and  the  distribution  of  trifling  presents. 
Their  kindness  and  gratitude  could  not  then  be 
exceeded,  and  the  march  of  the  army  was  contin- 
ually retarded  by  the  hospitality  of  the  numerous 
villages  through  which  it  passed.  Such  was  the 
frank  communion  among  these  people  that  the 
Indians  who  accompanied  the  army  entered  with- 
out ceremony  into  the  houses,  helping  themselves 
to  anything  of  which  they  stood  in  need,  without 
exciting  surprise  or  anger  in  the  inhabitants  ;  the 
latter  offered  to  do  the  same  with  respect  to  the 
Spaniards,  and  seemed  astonished  when-they  met  a 
repulse.  This,  it  is  probable,  was  the  case  merely 
with  respect  to  articles  of  food  ;  for  we  are  told 
that  the  Indians  were  not  careless  in  their  notions 
of  property,  and  the  crime  of  theft  was  one  of  the 
few  which  were  punished  among  them  with  great 
severity.  Food,  however,  is  generally  open  to 
free  participation  in  savage  life,  and  is  rarely 
made  an  object  of  barter,  until  habits  of  trade 

exist  the  least  tradition  of  its  former  name  or  impor- 
tance. 

The  spring  of  cool  and  delightful  water  met  with  in 
the  gorge,  in  a  deep  dark  glen  overshadowed  by  palm 
and  mahogany  trees,  near  the  outlet  where  the  mag- 
nificent Vega  breaks  upon  the  view,  still  continues  to 
quench  the  thirst  of  the  weary  traveller.  When  I  drank 
from  this  lonely  little  fountain,  I  could  hardly  realize 
the  fact  that  Columbus  must  likewise  have  partaken 
of  its  sparkling  waters,  when  at  the  height  of  his  glory, 
surrounded  by  cavaliers  attired  in  the  gorgeous  cos- 
tumes of  the  age,  and  warriors  recently  from  the 
Moorish  wars. 

Judging  by  the  distance  stated  to  have  been  travelled 
over  the  plain,  Columbus  must  have  crossed  the  Yaqui 
nearer  at  Ponton;  which  very  likely  received  its 
name  from  the  rafts  or  pontoons  employed  to  cross 
the  river.  Abundance  of  reeds  grow  along  its  banks, 
and  the  remains  of  an  Indian  village  are  still  very  dis- 
tinctly to  be  traced  in  the  vicinity.  By  this  route  he 
avoided  two  large  rivers,  the  Amina  and  the  Mar, 
which  discharge  their  waters  into  the  Yaqui  opposite 
Esperanza. 

The  toad  from  Ponton  to  the  River  Hanique  passes 
through  the  defiles  of  La  Cuesta  and  Nicayagua. 

*  Las  Casas,  lib.  sup.  li.  cap.  90. 


94 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


have  been  introduced  by  the  white  men.  The  un- 
tutored savage  in  almost  every  part  of  the  world 
scorns  to  make  a  traffic  of  hospitality. 

After  a  march  of  five  leagues  across  the  plain, 
they  arrived  at  the  banks  of  a  large  and  beautiful 
stream,  called  by  the  natives  Yagui.but  to  which 
the  admiral  gave  the  name  of  the  River  of  Reeds. 
He  was  not  aware  that  it  was  the  same  stream, 
which, ''after  winding  through  the  Vega,  falls  into 
the  sea  near  Monte  Christi,  and  which,  in  his  first 
voyage,  he  had  named  the  River  of  Gold.  On  its 
green  banks  the  army  encamped  for  the  night, 
animated  and  delighted  with  the  beautiful  scenes 
through  which  they  had  passed.  They  bathed 
and  sported  in  the  waters  of  the  Yagui,  enjoying 
the  amenity  of  the  surrounding  landscape,  and 
the  delighttul  breezes  which  prevail  in  that  genial 
season.  "  For  though  there  is  but  little  differ- 
ence," observes  Las  Casas,  "  from  one  month  to 
another  in  all  the  year  in  this  island,  and  in  most 
parts  of  these  Indias,  yet  in  the  period  from  Sep- 
tember to  May,  it  is  like  living  in  paradise."* 

On  the  following  morning  they  crossed  this 
stream  by  the  aid  of  canoes  and  rafts,  swimming 
the  horses  over.  For  two  days  they  continued 
their  march  through  the  same  kind  of  rich  level 
country,  diversified  by  noble  forests  and  watered 
by  abundant  streams,  several  of  which  descended 
from  the  mountains  of  Cibao,  and  were  said  to 
bring  down  gold  dust  mingled  with  their  sands. 
To  one  of  these,  the  limpid  waters  of  which  ran 
over  a  bed  of  smooth  round  pebbles,  Columbus 
gave  the  name  of  Rio  Verde,  or  Green  River,  from 
the  verdure  and  freshness  of  its  banks.  Its  Indian 
name  was  Nicayagua,  which  it  still  retains. f  In 
the  course  of  this  march  they  passed  through  nu- 
merous villages,  where  they  experienced  generally 
the  same  reception.  The  inhabitants  fled  at  their 
approach,  putting  up  their  slight  barricadoes  of 
reeds,  but,  as  before,  they  were  easily  won  to 
familiarity,  and  tasked  their  limited  means  to  en- 
tertain the  strangers. 

Thus  penetrating  into  the  midst  of  this  great 
island,  where  every  scene  presented  the  wild  lux- 
uriance of  beautiful  but  uncivilized  nature,  they 
arrived  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day  at  a 
chain  of  lofty  and  rugged  mountains,  forming  a 
kind  of  barrier  to  the  Vega.  These  Columbus  was 
told  were  the  golden  mountains  of  Cibao,  whose 
region  commenced  at  their  rocky  summits.  The 
country  now  beginning  to  grow  rough  and  diffi- 
cult, and  the  people  being  wayworn,  they  en- 
camped for  the  night  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  defile, 
which  led  up  into  the  mountains,  and  pioneers 
were  sent  in  advance  to  open  a  road  for  the  army. 
From  this  place  they  sent  back  mules  for  a  supply 
of  bread  and  wine,  their  provisions  beginning  to 
grow  scanty,  for  they  had  not  as  yet  accustomed 
themselves  to  the  food  of  the  natives,  which  was 
afterward  found  to  be  of  that  light  digestible  kind 
suitable  to  the  climate. 

On  the  next  morning  they  resumed  their  march 
up  a  narrow  and  steep  glen,  winding  among 
craggy  rocks,  where  they  were  obliged  to  lead  the 
horses.  Arrived  at  the  summit,  they  once  more 
enjoyed  a  prospect  of  the  delicious  Vega,  which 
here  presented  a  still  grander  appearance,  stretch- 
ing far  and  wide  on  either  hand,  like  a  vast  ver- 
dant lake.  This  noble  plain,  according  to  Las 
Casas,  is  eighty  leagues  in  length,  and  from 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  90,  MS. 

f  The  name  of  Rio  Verde  was  afterward  given  to  a 
small  stream  which  crosses  the  road  from  Santiago  to 
La  Vega,  a  branch  of  the  River  Yuna. 


twenty  to  thirty  in  breadth,  and  of  incomparable 
beauty. 

They  now  entered  "Cibao,  the  famous  region  of 
gold,  which,  as  if  nature  delighted  in  contrarie- 
ties, displayed  a  miser-like  poverty  of  exterior,  in 
proportion  to  its  hidden  treasures.  Instead  of  the 
soft  luxuriant  landscape  of  the  Vega,  they  beheld 
chains  of  rocky  and  sterile  mountains,  scantily 
clothed  with  lofty  pines.  The  trees  in  the  valleys 
also,  instead  of  possessing  the  rich  tufted  foliage 
common  to  other  parts  of  the  island,  were  meagre 
and  dwarfish,  excepting  such  as  grew  on  the 
banks  of  streams.  The  very  name  of  the  country 
bespoke  the  nature  of  the  soil — Cibao,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  natives,  signifying  a  stone.  Still, 
however,  there  were  deep  glens  and  shady  ravines 
among  the  mountains,  watered  by  limpid  rivulets, 
where  the  green  herbage  and  strips  of  woodland 
were  the  more  delightful  to  the  eye  from  the 
neighboring  sterility.  But  what  consoled  the 
Spaniards  for  the  asperity  of  the  soil,  was  to  ob- 
serve among  the  sands  of  those  crystal  streams 
glittering  particles  of  gold,  which,  though  scanty 
in  quantity,  were  regarded  as  earnests  of  the 
wealth  locked  up  within  the  mountains. 

The  natives  having  been  previously  visited  by  the 
exploring  party  under  Ojeda,  came  forth  to  meet 
them  with  great  alacrity,  bringing  food,  and, 
above  all,  grains  and  particles  of  gold  collected  in 
the  brooks  and  torrents.  From  the  quantities  of 
gold  dust  in  every  stream,  Columbus  was  convinc- 
ed there  must  be  several  mines  in  the  vicinity.  He 
had  met  with  specimens  of  amber  and  lapis  lazuli, 
though  in  very  small  quantities,  and  thought  that 
he  had  discovered  a  mine  of  copper.  He  was  now 
about  eighteen  leagues  from  the  settlement  ;  the 
rugged  nature  of  the  mountains  made  a  commu- 
nication, even  from  this  distance,  laborious.  He 
gave  up  the  idea,  therefore,  of  penetrating  farther 
into  the  country,  and  determined  to  establish  a 
fortified  post  in  this  neighborhood,  with  a  large 
number  of  men,  as  well  to  work  the  mines  as  to 
explore  the  rest  of  the  province.  He  accordingly 
selected  a  pleasant  situation  on  an  eminence  al- 
most entirely  surrounded  by  a  small  river  called 
the  Yanique,  the  waters  of  which  were  as  pure  as 
if  distilled,  and  the  sound  of  its  current  musical  to 
the  ear.  In  its  bed  were  found  curious  stones  of 
various  colors,  large  masses  of  beautiful  marble, 
and  pieces  of  pure  jasper.  From  the  foot  of  the 
height  extended  one  of  those  graceful  and  verdant 
plains,  called  savannas,  which  was  freshened  and 
fertilized  by  the  river.* 

On  this  eminence  Columbus  ordered  a  strong 
fortress  of  wood  to  be  erected,  capable  of  defence 
against  any  attack  of  the  natives,  and  protected  by 
a  deep  ditch  on  the  side  which  the  river  did  not 
secure.  To  this  fortress  he  gave  the  name  of  St. 
Thomas,  intended  as  a  pleasant,  though  pious,  re- 
proof of  the  incredulity  of  Firmin  Cedo  and  his 
doubting  adherents,  who  obstinately  refused  to 
believe  that  the  island  produced  gold,  until  they 
beheld  it  with  their  eyes  and  touched  it  with  their 
hands. f 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.   Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  90,  MS. 

f  Ibid. 

From  the  Letter  of  T.  S.  Ifeneken,  Esq.,  1847. 

Traces  of  the  old  fortress  of  St.  Thomas  still  exist, 
though,  as  has  happened  to  the  Puerta  de  los  Hidal- 
gos, all  tradition  concerning  it  has  long  been  lost. 

Having  visited  a  small  Spanish  village  known  by 
the  name  of  Hanique,  situated  on  the  banks  of  that 
stream,  I  heard  by  accident  the  name  of  a  farm  at  no 
great  distance,  called  La  Fortaleza.  This  excited  my 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


The  natives,  having  heard  of  the  arrival  of  the 
Spaniards  in  their  vicinity,  came  flocking  from 
various  parts,  anxious  to  obtain  European  trink- 
ets. The  admiral  signified  to  them  that  anything 
would  be  given  in  exchange  for  gold  ;  upon  hear- 
ing this  some  of  them  ran  to  a  neighboring  river, 
and  gathering  and  sifting  its  sands,  returned  in  a 
little  while  with  considerable  quantities  of  gold 
dust.  One  old  man  brought  two  pieces  of  virgin 
ore,  weighing  an  ounce,  and  thought  himself 
richly  repaid  when  he  received  a  hawk's  bell.  On 
remarking  that  the  admiral  was  struck  with  the 
size  of  these  specimens,  he  affected  to  treat  them 
with  contempt,  as  insignificant,  intimating  by 
signs  that  in  his  country,  which  lay  within  half  a 
day's  journey,  they  found  pieces  of  gold  as  big  as 
an  orange.  Other  Indians  brought  grains  of  gold 
weighing  ten  and  twelve  drachms,  and  declared 
that  in  the  country  whence  they  got  them,  there 
were  masses  of  ore  as  large  as  the  head  of  a 
child.*  As  usual,  however,  these  golden  tracts 
were  always  in  some  remote  valley,  or  along  some 
rugged  and  sequestered  stream  ;  and  the  wealthi- 
est spot  was  sure  to  be  at  the  greatest  distance — 
for  the  land  of  promise  is  ever  beyond  the  moun- 
tain. 


CHAPTER  X. 

EXCURSION  OF  JUAN  DE  LUXAN  AMONG  THE 
MOUNTAINS — CUSTOMS  AND  CHARACTERISTICS 
OF  THE  NATIVES — COLUMBUS  RETURNS  TO 
ISABELLA. 

[H94-] 

WHILF.  the  admiral  remained  among  the  moun- 
tains, superintending  the  building  of  the  fortress, 
he  dispatched  a  young  cavalier  of  Madrid,  named 

curiosity,  and  I  proceeded  to  the  spot,  a  short  dis- 
tance up  the  river  ;  yet  nothing  could  be  learned  from 
the  inhabitants  ;  it  was  only  by  ranging  the  river's 
banks,  through  a  dense  and  luxuriant  forest,  that  I  by 
accident  stumbled  upon  the  site  of  the  fortress. 

The  remarkable  turn  in  the  river  ;  the  ditch,  still 
very  perfect  ;  the  entrance  and  the  covert  ways  on 
each  side  for  descending  to  the  river,  with  a  fine 
esplanade  of  beautiful  short  grass  in  front,  complete 
the  picture  described  by  Las  Casas. 

The  square  occupied  by  the  fort  is  now  completely 
covered  with  forest  trees,  undistinguishable  irom 
those  of  the  surrounding  country  ;  which  corresponds 
to  this  day  exactly  with  the  description  given  above, 
three  centuries  since,  by  Columbus,  Ojeda,  and  Juan, 
de  Luxan. 

The  only  change  to  notice  is,  that  the  neat  little 
Indian  villages,  swarming  with  an  innocent  and  happy 
population,  have  totally  disappeared  ;  there  being  at 
present  only  a  few  scattered  huts  of  indigent  Spaniards 
to  be  met  with,  buried  in  the  gloom  of  the  mountains. 

The  traces  of  those  villages  are  rarely  to  be  discov- 
ered at  the  present  day.  The  situation  of  one  near 
Ponton  was  well  chosen  for  defence,  being  built  on  a 
high  bank  between  deep  and  precipitous  ravines.  A 
large  square  occupied  the  centre  ;  in  the  rear  of  each 
dwelling  were  thrown  the  sweepings  of  the  apartments 
and  the  ashes  from  the  fires,  which  form  a  line  of 
mounds,  mixed  up  with  broken  Indian  utensils.  As 
it  lays  in  the  direct  road  from  Isabella,  Cibao,  and  La 
Vega,  and  commands  the  best  fording  place  in  the 
neighborhood  for  crossing  the  River  Yaqui  in  dry  sea- 
sons, it  must,  no  doubt,  have  been  a  place  of  consid- 
erable resort  at  the  time  of  the  discovery — most  likely 
a  pontoon  or  large  canoe  was  stationed  here  for  the 
facility  of  communication  between  St.  Thomas  and 
Isabella,  whence  it  derived  its  name. 

*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii. 


Juan  de  Luxan,  with  a  small  band  of  armed  men, 
to  range  about  the  country,  and  explore  the  whole 
of  the  province,  which,  from  the  reports  of  the 
Indians,  appeared  to  be  equal  in  extent  to  the 
kingdom  of  Portugal.  Luxan  returned,  after  a 
few  days'  absence,  with  the  most  satisfactory  ac- 
counts. He  had  traversed  a  great  part  of  Cibao, 
which  he  found  more  capable  of  cultivation  than 
had  at  first  been  imagined.  It  was  generally 
mountainous,  and  the  soil  covered  with  large 
round  pebbles  of  a  blue  color,  yet  there  was  good 
pasturage  in  many  of  the  valleys.  The  mountains, 
also,  being  watered  by  frequent  showers,  produced 
grass  of  surprisingly  quick  and  luxuriant  growth, 
often  reaching  to  the  saddles  of  the  horses.  The 
forests  seemed  to  Luxan  to  be  full  of  valuable 
spices  ;  he  being  deceived  by  the  odors  emitted  by 
those  aromatic  plants  and  herbs  which  abound  in 
the  woodlands  of  the  tropics.  There  were  great 
vines  also,  climbing  to  the  very  summits  of  the 
trees,  and  bearing  clusters  of  grapes  entirely  ripe, 
full  of  juice,  and  of  a  pleasant  flavor.  Every  val- 
ley and  glen  possessed  its  stream,  large  or  small, 
according  to  the  size  of  the  neighboring  mountain, 
and  all  yielding  more  or  less  gold,  in  small  par- 
ticles. Luxan  was  supposed,  likewise,  to  have 
learned  from  the  Indians  many  of  the  secrets  of 
their  mountains  ;  to  have  been  shown  the  parts 
where  the  greatest  quantity  of  ore  was  found,  and 
to  have  been  taken  to  the  richest  streams.  On  all 
these  points,  however,  he  observed  a  discreet 
mystery,  communicating  the  particulars  to  no  one 
but  the  admiral.* 

The  fortress  of  St.  Thomas  being  nearly  com- 
pleted, Columbus  gave  it  in  command  to  Pedro 
Margarite,  the  same  cavalier  whom  he  had  recom- 
mended to  the  favor  of  the  sovereigns  ;  and  he 
left  with  him  a  garrison  of  fifty-six  men.  He  then 
set  out  on  his  return  to  Isabella.  On  arriving  at 
the  banks  of  the  Rio  Verde,  or  Nicayagua,  in  the 
Royal  Vega,  he  found  a  number  of  Spaniards  on 
their  way  to  the  fortress  with  supplies.  He  re- 
mained, therefore,  a  few  days  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, searching  for  the  best  fording  place  of  the 
river,  and  establishing  a  route  between  the  for- 
tress and  the  harbor.  During  this  time  he  resided 
in  the  Indian  villages,  endeavoring  to  accustom 
his  people  to  the  food  of  the  natives,  as  well  as  to 
inspire  the  latter  with  a  mingled  feeling  of  good 
will  and  reverence  for  the  white  men. 

From  the  report  of  Luxan,  Columbus  had  de- 
rived some  information  concerning  the  character 
and  customs  of  the  natives,  and  he  acquired  still 
more  from  his  own  observations,  in  the  course  of 
his  sojourn  among  the  tribes  of  the  mountains  and 
the  plains.  And  here  a  brief  notice  of  a  few  of 
the  characteristics  and  customs  of  these  people 
may  be  interesting.  They  are  given,  not  merely 
as  observed  by  the  admiral  and  his  officers  during 
this  expedition,  but  as  recorded  some  time  after- 
ward, in  a  crude  dissertation,  by  a  friar  of  the 
name  of  Roman  ;  a  poor  hermit,  as  he  styled  him- 
self, of  the  order  of  the  leronimites,  who  was  one 
of  the  colleagues  of  Father  Boyle,  and  resided  for 
some  time  in  the  Vega- as  a  missionary. 

Columbus  had  already  discovered  the  error  of 
one  of  his  opinions  concerning  these  islanders, 
formed  during  his  first  voyage.  They  were  not 
so  entirely  pacific,  nor  so  ignorant  of  warlike  arts 
as  he  had  imagined.  He  had  been  deceived  by 
the  enthusiasm  of  his  own  feelings,  and  by  the 
gentleness  of  Guacanagari  and  his  subjects.  The 
casual  descents  of  the  Caribs  had  compelled  the 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii. 


9G 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


inhabitants  of  the  sea-shore  to  acquaint  them- 
selves with  the  use  of  arms.  Some  of  the  moun- 
tain tribes  near  the  coast,  particularly  those  on  the 
side  which  looked  toward  the  Caribbee  Islands, 
were  of  a  more  hardy  and  warlike  character  than 
those  of  the  plains.  Caonabo,  also,  the  Carib 
chieftain,  had  introduced  something  of  his  own 
warrior  spirit  into  the  centre  of  the  island.  Yet, 
generally  speaking,  the  habits  of  the  people  were 
mild  and  gentle.  If  wars  sometimes  occurred 
among  them,  they  were  of  short  duration,  and  un- 
accompanied by  any  great  effusion  of  blood  ;  and, 
in  general,  they  mingled  amicably  and  hospitably 
with  each  other. 

Columbus  had  also  at  first  indulged  in  the  error 
that  the  natives  of  Hayti  were  destitute  of  all  no- 
tions of  religion,  and  he  had  consequently  flattered 
himself  that  it  would  be  the  easier  to  introduce 
into  their  minds  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  ;  not 
aware  that  it  is  more  difficult  to  light  up  the  fire 
of  devotion  in  the  cold  heart  of  an  atheist,  than  to 
direct  the  flame  to  a  new  object,  when  it  is  already 
enkindled.  There  are  few  beings,  however,  so 
destitute  of  reflection  as  not  to  be  impressed  with 
the  conviction  of  an  overruling  deity.  A  nation 
of  atheists  never  existed.  It  was  soon  discovered 
that  these  islanders  had  their  creed,  though  of  a 
vague  and  simple  nature.  They  believed  in  one 
supreme  being,  inhabiting  the  sky,  who  was  im- 
mortal, omnipotent,  and  invisible  ;  to  whom  they 
ascribed  an  origin,  who  had  a  mother,  but  no 
father.*  They  never  addressed  their  worship  di- 
rectly to  him,  but  employed  inferior  deities,  called 
Zemes,  as  messengers  and  mediators.  Each 
cacique  had  his  tutelar  deity  of  this  order,  whom 
he  invoked  and  pretended  to  consult  in  all  his 
public  undertakings,  and  who  was  reverenced  by 
his  people.  He  had  a  house  apart,  as  a  temple  to 
this  deity,  in  which  was  an  image  of  his  Zemi, 
carved  of  wood  or  stone,  or  shaped  of  clay  or 
cotton,  and  generally  of  some  monstrous  and 
hideous  form.  Each  family  and  each  individual 
had  likewise  a  particular  Zemi,  or  protecting 
genius,  like  the  Lares  and  Penates  of  the  an- 
cients. They  were  placed  in  every  part  of  their 
houses,  or  carved  on  their  furniture  ;  some  had 
them  of  a  small  size,  and  bound  them  about 
their  foreheads  when  they  went  to  battle.  They 
believed  their  Zemes  to  be  transferable,  with  all 
their  powers,  and  often  stole  them  from  each  other. 
When  the  Spaniards  came  among  them,  they  often 
hid  their  idols,  lest  they  should  be  taken  away. 
They  believed  that  these  Zemes  presided  over  every 
object  in  nature,  each  having  a  particular  charge 
or  government.  They  influenced  the  seasons  and 
the  elements,  causing  sterile  or  abundant  years  ; 
exciting  hurricanes  and  whirlwinds,  and  tempests 
of  rain  and  thunder,  or  sending  sweet  and  temper- 
ate breezes  and  fruitful  showers.  They  governed 
the  seas  and  forests,  the  springs  and  fountains  ; 
like  the  Nereids,  the  Dryads,  and  Satyrs  of  an- 
tiquity. They  gave  success  in  hunting  and  fish- 
ing ;  they  guided  the  waters  of  the  mountains  into 
sate  channels,  and  led  them  down  to  wander 
through  the  plains,  in  gentle  brooks  and  peaceful 
rivers  ;  or,  it  incensed,  they  caused  them  to  burst 
forth  into  rushing  torrents  and  overwhelming 
floods,  inundating  and  laying  waste  the  valleys. 

The  natives  had  their  Butios,  or  priests,  who 
pretended  to  hold  communion  with  these  Zemes. 
They  practised  rigorous  fasts  and  ablutions,  and 
inhaled  the  powder,  or  drank  the  infusion  of  a  cer- 
tain herb,  which  produced  a  temporary  intoxica- 


*  Escritura  de  Fr.  Roman.     Hist,  del  Almirante. 


tion  or  delirium.  In  the  course  of  this  process, 
they  professed  to  have  trances  and  visions,  and 
that  the  Zemes  revealed  to  them  future  events,  or 
instructed  them  in  the  treatment  of  maladies. 
They  were,  in  general,  great  herbalists,  and  well 
acquainted  with  the  medicinal  properties  of  trees 
and  vegetables.  They  cured  diseases  through 
their  knowledge  of  simples,  but  always  with  many 
mysterious  rites  and  ceremonies,  and  supposed 
charms  ;  chanting  and  burning  a  light  in  the  cham- 
ber of  the  patient,  and  pretending  to  exorcise  the 
malady,  to  expel  it  from  the  mansion,  and  to  send 
it  to  the  sea  or  to  the  mountain.* 

Their  bodies  were  painted  or  tattooed  with  fig- 
ures of  the  Zemes,  which  were  regarded  with  hor- 
ror by  the  Spaniards,  as  so  many  representations 
of  the  devil  ;  and  the  Butios,  esteemed  as  saints  by 
the  natives,  were  abhorred  by  the  former  as  necro- 
mancers. These  Butios  often  assisted  the  caciques 
in  practising  deceptions  upon  their  subjects,  speak- 
ing oracularly  through  the  Zemes,  by  means  of  hol- 
low tubes  ;  inspiriting  the  Indians  to  battle  by  pre- 
dicting success,  or  dealing  forth  such  promises  or 
menaces  as  might  suit  the  purposes  of  the  chieftain. 

There  is  but  one  of  their  solemn  religious  cere- 
monies of  which  any  record  exists.  The  cacique 
proclaimed  a  day  when  a  kind  of  festival  was  to 
be  held  in  honor  of  his  Zemes.  His  subjects  as- 
sembled from  all  parts,  and  formed  a  solemn  pro- 
cession ;  the  married  men  and  women  decorated 
with  their  most  precious  ornaments,  the  young 
females  entirely  naked.  The  cacique,  or  the  prin- 
cipal personage,  marched  at  their  head,  beating  ^ 
kind  of  drum.  In  this  way  they  proceeded  to  th*7 
consecrated  house  or  temple,  in  which  were  set  up 
the  images  of  the  Zemes.  Arrived  at  the  door,  the 
cacique  seated  himself  on  the  outside,  continuing 
to  beat  his  drum  while  the  procession  entered,  the 
females  carrying  baskets  of  cakes  ornamented  with 
flowers,  and  singing  as  they  advanced.  These 
offerings  were  received  by  the  Butios  with  loud 
cries,  or  rather  bowlings.  They  broke  the  cakes, 
after  they  had  been  offered  to  the  Zemes,  and  dis- 
tributed the  portions  to  the  heads  of  families,  who 
preserved  them  carefully  throughout  the  year,  as 
preventive  of  all  adverse  accidents.  This  done, 
the  females  danced,  at  a  given  signal,  singing 
songs  in  honor  of  the  Zemes,  or  in  praise  of  the 
heroic  actions  of  their  ancient  caciques.  The 
whole  ceremony  finished  by  invoking  the  Zemes  to 
watch  over  and  protect  the  nation. f 

Besides  the  Zemes,  each  cacique  had  three  idols 
or  talismans,  which  were  mere  stones,  but  which 
were  held  in  great  reverence  by  themselves  and 
their  subjects.  One  they  supposed  had  the  power 
to  produce  abundant  harvests,  another  to  remove 
all  pain  from  women  in  travail,  and  the  third  to 
call  forth  rain  or  sunshine.  Three  of  these  were 
sent  home  by  Columbus  to  the  sovereigns.  J 

The  ideas  of  the  natives  with  respect  to  the  crea- 
tion were  vague  and  undefined.  They  gave  their 
own  island  of  Hayti  priority  of  existence  over  all 
others,  and  believed  that  the  sun  and  moon  origi- 
nally issued  out  of  a  cavern  in  the  island  to  give 
light  to  the  world.  This  cavern  still  exists,  about 
seven  or  eight  leagues  from  Cape  Francois,  now 
Cape  Haytien,  and  is  known  by  the  name  of  La 
Voute  a  Minguet.  It  is  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  in  depth,  and  nearly  the  same  in  height, 
but  very  narrow.  It  receives  no  light  but  from 
the  entrance,  and  from  a  round  hole  in  the  roof, 


*  Oviedo,  Cronic.,  lib.  v.  cap.  I. 

JCharlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  i.  p.  56. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.   61. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


97 


whence  it  was  said  the  sun  and  moon  issved  forth 
to  take  their  places  in  the  sky.  The  vault  was  so 
fair  and  regular,  that  it  appeared  a  work  of  art 
rather  than  of  nature.  In  the  time  of  Charlevoix 
the  figures  of  various  Zemes  were  still  to  be  seen 
cut  in  the  rocks,  and  there  were  the  remains  of 
niches,  as  if  to  receive  statues.  This  cavern  was 
held  in  great  veneration.  It  was  painted,  and 
adorned  with  green  branches,  and  other  simple 
decorations.  There  were  in  it  two  images  or 
Zemes.  When  there  was  a  want  of  rain,  the 
natives  made  pilgrimages  and  processions  to  it, 
with  songs  and  dances,  bearing  offerings  of  fruits 
and  flowers.'* 

They  believed  that  mankind  issued  from  another 
cavern,  the  large  men  from  a  great  aperture,  the 
small  men  from  a  little  cranny.  They  were  for  a 
long  time  destitute  of  women,  but  wandering  on 
one  occasion  near  a  small  lake,  they  saw  certain 
animals  among  the  branches  of  the  trees,  which 
proved  to  be  women.  On  attempting  to  catch 
them,  however,  they  were  found  to  be  as  slippery 
as  eels,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  hold  them. 
At  length  they  employed  certain  men,  whose  hands 
were  rendered  rough  by  a  kind  of  leprosy.  These 
succeeded  in  securing  four  of  these  slippery  fe- 
males, from  whom  the  world  was  peopled. 

While  the  men  inhabited  this  cavern,  they  dared 
only  venture  forth  at  night,  for  the  sight  of  the  sun 
was  fatal  to  them,  turning  them  into  trees  and 
stones.  A  cacique,  named  Vagoniona,  sent  one 
of  his  men  forth  from  the  cave  to  fish,  who  linger- 
ing at  his  sport  until  the  sun  had  risen,  was  turn- 
ed into  a  bird  of  melodious  note,  the  same  which 
Columbus  mistook  for  the  nightingale.  They  add- 
ed, that  yearly  about  the  time  he  had  suffered  this 
transformation,  he  came  in  the  night  with  a 
mournful  song,  bewailing  his  misfortune  ;  which 
was  the  cause  why  that  bird  always  sang  in  the 
night  season. f 

Like  most  savage  nations,  they  had  a  tradition 
concerning  the  universal  deluge,  equally  fanciful 
with  most  of  the  preceding  ;  for  it  is  singular  how 
the  human  mind,  in  its  natural  state,  is  apt  to  ac- 
count, by  trivial  and  familiar  causes,  for  great 
events.  They  said  that  there  once  lived  in  the 
island  a  mighty  cacique,  who  slew  his  only  son 
for  conspiring  against  him.  He  afterward  collect- 
ed and  picked  his  bones,  and  preserved  them  in  a 
gourd,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  natives  with  the 
relics  of  their  friends.  On  a  subsequent  day,  the 
cacique  and  his  wife  opened  the  gourd  to  contem- 
plate the  bones  of  their  son,  when,  to  their  aston- 
ishment, several  fish,  great  and  small,  leaped  out. 
Upon  this  the  cacique  closed  the  gourd,  and 
placed  it  on  the  top  of  his  house,  boasting  that  he 
had  the  sea  shut  up  within  it,  and  could  have  fish 
whenever  he  pleased.  Four  brothers,  however, 
who  had  been  born  at  the  same  birth,  and  were 
curious  intermeddlers,  hearing  of  this  gourd, 
came  during  the  absence  of  the  cacique  to  peep 
into  it.  In  their  carelessness  they  suffered  it  to 
fall  upon  the  ground,  where  it  was  dashed  to 
pieces  ;  when,  lo  !  to  their  astonishment  and  dis- 
may, there  issued  forth  a  mighty  flood,  with  dol- 
phins, and  sharks,  and  tumbling  porpoises,  and 
great  spouting  whales  ;  and  the  water  spread,  un- 
til it  overflowed  the  earth,  and  formed  the  ocean, 
leaving  only  the  tops  of  the  mountains  uncovered, 
which  are  the  present  islands.:}: 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist,  de  St.  Domingo,  lib.  i.  p.  60. 
f  Fray  Roman.     Hist,  del  Almirante.     P.  Martyr, 
decad.  i.  lib.  ix. 

J  Escritura  de  Fray  Roman,  pobre  Heremito. 


They  had  singular  modes  of  treating  the  dying 
and  the  dead.  When  the  life  of  a  cacique  was  de- 
spaired of,  they  strangled  him  out  of  a  principle 
of  respect,  rather  than  suffer  him  to  die  like  the 
vulgar.  Common  people  were  extended  in  their 
hammocks,  bread  and  water  placed  at  their  head, 
and  they  were  then  abandoned  to  die  in  solitude. 
Sometimes  they  were  carried  to  the  cacique,  and 
if  he  permitted  them  the  distinction,  they  were 
strangled.  After  death  the  body  of  a  cacique  was 
opened,  dried  at  a  fire,  and  preserved  ;  of  others 
the  head  only  was  treasured  up  as  a  memorial,  or 
occasionally  a  limb.  Sometimes  the  whole  body 
was  interred  in  a  cave,  with  a  calabash  of  water 
and  a  loaf  of  bread  ;  sometimes  it  was  consumed 
with  fire  in  the  house  of  the  deceased. 

They  had  confused  and  uncertain  notions  of  the 
existence  of  the  soul  when  separated  from  the 
body.  They  believed  in  the  apparitions  of  the 
departed  at  night,  or  by  daylight  in  solitary 
places,  to  lonely  individuals  ;  sometimes  advanc- 
ing as  if  to  attack  them,  but  upon  the  traveller's 
striking  at  them  they  vanished,  and  he  struck 
merely  against  trees  or  rocks.  Sometimes  they 
mingled  among  the  living,  and  were  only  to  be 
known  by  having  no  navels.  The  Indians,  fearful 
of  meeting  with  these  apparitions,  disliked  to  go 
about  alone,  and  in  the  dark. 

They  had  an  idea  of  a  place  of  reward,  to  which 
the  spirits  of  good  men  repaired  after  death, 
where  they  were  reunited  to  the  spirits  of  those 
they  had  most  loved  during  life,  and  to  all  their 
ancestors.  Here  they  enjoyed  uninterruptedly, 
and  in  perfection,  those  pleasures  which  consti- 
tuted their  felicity  on  earth.  They  lived  in  shady 
and  blooming  bowers,  with  beautiful  women,  and 
banqueted  on  delicious  fruits.  The  paradise  of 
these  happy  spirits  was  variously  placed,  almost 
every  tribe  assigning  some  favorite  spot  in  their 
native  province.  Many,  however,  concurred  in 
describing  this  region  as  being  near  a  lake  in  the 
western  part  of  the  island,  in  the  beautiful  prov- 
ince of  Xaragua.  Here  there  were  delightful  val- 
leys, covered  with  a  delicate  fruit  called  the  ma- 
mey,  about  the  size  of  an  apricot.  They  imagined 
that  the  souls  of  the  deceased  remained  concealed 
among  the  airy  and  inaccessible  cliffs  of  the  moun- 
tains during  the  day,  but  descended  at  night  into 
these  happy  valleys,  to  regale  on  this  consecrated 
fruit.  The  living  were  sparing,  therefore,  in  eat- 
ing it,  lest  the  souls  of  their  friends  should  suffer 
from  want  of  their  favorite  nourishment.* 

The  dances  to  which  the  natives  seemed  so  im- 
moderately addicted,  and  whjch  had  been  at  first 
considered  by  the  Spaniards,  mere  idle  pastimes, 
were  found  to  be  often  ceremonials  of  a  serious 
and  mystic  character.  They  form  indeed  a  singu- 
lar and  important  feature  throughout  the  customs 
of  the  aboriginals  of  the  New  World.  In  these 
are  typefied,  by  signs  well  understood  by  the  initi- 
ated, and,  as  it  were,  by  hieroglyphic  action,  their 
historical  events,  their  projected  enterprises,  their 
hunting,  their  ambuscades,  and  their  battles,  re- 
sembling in  some  respects  the  Pyrrhic  dances  of 
the  ancients.  Speaking  of  the  prevalence  of  these 
dances  among  the  natives  of  Hayti,  Peter  Martyr 
observes  that  they  performed  them  to  the  chant  of 
certain  metres  and  ballads,  handed  down  from 
generation  to  generation,  in  which  were  rehearsed 
the  deeds  of  their  ancestors.  "  These  rhymes  or 
ballads,"  he  adds,  "they  call  areytos  ;  and  as 
our  minstrels  are  accustomed  to  sing  to  the  harp 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  61.     Peter  Martyr,  de- 
cad,  i.  lib.  ix.     Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF    COLUMBUS. 


and  lute,  so  do  they  in  like  manner  sing  these 
songs,  and  dance  to  the  same,  playing  on  timbrels 
made  of  shells  of  certain  fishes.  These  timbrels 
they  call  maguey.  They  have  also  songs  and  bal- 
lads of  love,  and  others  of  lamentation  or  mourn- 
ing ;  some  also  to  encourage  them  to  the  wars, 
all  sung  to  tunes  agreeable  to  the  matter."  It 
was  for  these  dances,  as  has  been  already  observ- 
ed, that  they  were  so  eager  to  procure  hawks' 
bells,  suspending  them  about  their  persons,  and 
keeping  time  with  their  sound  to  the  cadence  of 
the  singers.  This  mode  of  dancing  to  a  ballad 
has  been  compared  to  the  dances  of  the  peasants 
in  Flanders  during  the  summer,  and  to  those  prev- 
alent throughout  Spain  to  the  sound  of  the  casti- 
nets,  and  the  wild  popular  chants  said  to  be  de- 
rived from  the  Moors  ;  but  which,  in  fact,  existed 
before  their  invasion,  among  the  Goths  who  over- 
ran the  peninsula.* 

The  earliest  history  of  almost  all  nations  has 
generally  been  preserved  by  rude  heroic  rhymes 
and  ballads,  and  by  the  lays  of  the  minstrels  ;  and 
such  was  the  case  with  the  areytos  of  the  Indians. 
"  When  a  cacique  died,"  says  Oviedo,  "  they 
sang  in  dirges  his  life  and  actions,  and  all  the 
good  that  he  had  done  was  recollected.  Thus 
they  formed  the  ballads  or  areytos  which  consti- 
tuted their  history."!  Some  of  these  ballads  were 
of  a  sacred  character,  containing  their  traditional 
notions  of  theology,  and  the  superstitions  and  fa- 
bles which  comprised  their  religious  creeds. 
None  were  permitted  to  sing  these  but  the  sons 
of  caciques,  who  were  instructed  in  them  by  their 
Butios.  They  were  chanted  before  the  people  on 
solemn  festivals,  like  those  already  described,  ac- 
companied by  the  sound  of  a  kind  of  drum,  made 
from  a  hollow  tree.J 

Such  a  are  few  of  the  characteristics  remaining 
on  record  of  these  simple  people,  who  perished 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  before  their  customs 
and  creeds  were  thought  of  sufficient  importance 
to  be  investigated.  The  present  work  does  not 
profess  to  enter  into  detailed  accounts  of  the  coun- 
tries and  people  discovered  by  Columbus,  other- 
wise than  as  they  may  be  useful  for  the  illustration 
of  his  history  ;  and  perhaps  the  foregoing  are  car- 
ried to  an  unnecessary  length,  but  they  may  serve 
to  give  greater  interest  to  the  subsequent  transac- 
tions of  the  island. 

Many  of  these  particulars,  as  has  been  observed, 
were  collected  by  the  admiral  and  his  officers,  dur- 
ing their  excursion  among  the  mountains  and  their 
sojourn  in  the  plain.  The  natives  appeared  to 
them  a  singularly  idle  and  improvident  race,  in- 
different to  most  of  the  objects  of  human  anxiety 
and  toil.  They  were  impatient  of  all  kinds  of  la- 
bor, scarcely  giving  themselves  the  trouble  to  cul- 
tivate the  yuca  root,  the  maize,  and  the  potato, 
which  formed  the  main  articles  of  subsistence. 
For  the  rest,  their  streams  abounded  with  fish  ; 
they  caught  the  utia  or  coney,  the  guana,  and  va- 
rious birds  ;  and  they  had  a  perpetual  banquet 
from  the  fruits  spontaneously  produced  by  their 
groves.  Though  the  air  was  sometimes  cold 
srnong  the  mountains,  yet  they  preferred  submit- 
ting to  a  little  temporary  suffering  rather  than 
take  the  trouble  to  weave  garments  from  the  gos- 
sampine  cotton  which  abounded  in  their  forests. 
Thus  they  loitered  away  existence  in  vacant  in- 


*  Mariana.  Hist.  Esp.,  lib.  v.  cap.  I. 

f  Oviedo,  Cron.  de  las  Indias,  lib.  v.  cap.  3. 

I  Fray  Roman.  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  61.  P. 
Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ix.  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad. 
i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  4.  Oviedo,  lib.  v.  cap.  I. 


activity,  under  the  shade  of  their  trees,  or  amus- 
ing themselves  occasionally  with  various  games 
and  dances. 

In  fact,  they  were  destitute  of  powerful  motives 
to  toil,  being  free  from  most  of  those  wants  which 
doom  mankind  in  civilized  life,  or  in  less  genial 
climes,  to  incessant  labor.  They  had  no  sterile 
winter  to  provide  against,  particularly  in  the  val- 
leys and  the  plains,  where,  according  to  Peter 
Martyr,  "  the  island  enjoyed  perpetual  spring-time, 
and  was  blessed  with  continual  summer  and  har- 
vest. The  trees  preserved  their  leaves  through- 
out the  year,  and  the  meadows  continued  always 
green."  "There  is  no  province,  nor  any  re- 
gion," he  again  observes,  "  which  is  not  remark- 
able for  the  majesty  of  its  mountains,  the  fruitful- 
ness  of  its  vales,  the  pleasantness  of  its  hills,  and 
delightful  plains,  with  abundance  of  fair  rivers 
running  through  them.  There  never  was  any 
noisome  animal  found  in  it,  nor  yet  any  ravening 
four-footed  beast  ;  no  lion,  nor  bear  ;  no  fierce 
tigers,  nor  crafty  foxes,  nor  devouring  wolves,  but 
all  things  blessed  and  fortunate."* 

In  the  soft  region  of  the  Vega,  the  circling  sea- 
sons brought  each  its  store  of  fruits  ;  and  while 
some  were  gathered  in  full  maturity,  others  were 
ripening  on  the  boughs,  and  buds  and  blossoms 
gave  promise  of  still  future  abundance.  What 
need  was  there  of  garnering  up  and  anxiously 
providing  for  coming  days,  to  men  who  lived  in  a 
perpetual  harvest  ?  What  need,  too,  of  toilfully 
spinning  or  laboring  at  the  loom,  where  a  genial 
temperature  prevailed  throughout  the  year,  and 
neither  nature  nor  custom  prescribed  the  necessity 
of  clothing  ? 

The  hospitality  which  characterizes  men  in  such 
a  simple  and  easy  mode  of  existence,  was  evinced 
toward  Columbus  and  his  followers  during  their 
sojourn  in  the  Vega.  Wherever  they  went  it  was  a 
continual  scene  of  festivity  and  rejoicing.  The 
natives  hastened  from  all  parts,  bearing  presents, 
and  laying  the  treasures  of  their  groves,  and 
streams,  and  mountains,  at  the  feet  of  beings  whom 
they  still  considered  as  descended  from  the  skies 
to  bring  blessings  to  their  island. 

Having  accomplished  the  purposes  of  his  resi- 
dence in  the  Vega,  Columbus,  at  the  end  of  a  few 
days,  took  leave  of  its  hospitable  inhabitants,  and 
resumed  his  march  for  the  harbor,  returning  with 
his  little  army  through  the  lofty  and  rugged  gorge 
of  the  mountains  called  the  Pass  of  the  Hidalgos. 
As  we  accompany  him  in  imagination  over  the 
rocky  height,  whence  the  Vega  first  broke  upon 
the  eye  of  the  Europeans,  we  cannot  help  pausing 
to  cast  back  a  look  of  mingled  pity  and  admiration 
over  this  beautiful  but  devoted  region.  The  dream 
of  natural  liberty,  of  ignorant  content,  and  loiter- 
ing idleness,  was  as  yet  unbroken,  but  the  fiat  had 
gone  forth  ;  the  white  man  had  penetrated  into 
the  land  ;  avarice,  and  pride,  and  ambition,  and 
pining  care,  and  sordid  labor,  and  withering  pov- 
erty, were  soon  to  follow,  and  the  indolent  para- 
dise of  the  Indian  was  about  to  disappear  forever. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ARRIVAL   OF  COLUMBUS   AT   ISABELLA — SICKNESS 
OF    THE  COLONY. 


ON   the  2gth    of    March  Columbus   arrived  at 
Isabella,  highly  satisfied  with  his  expedition  into 

*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  ix.,  translated  by  R. 
Eden.     London,  1555. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


99 


the  interior.  The  appearance  of  everything  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  harbor  was  calculated  to  increase 
his  anticipations  of  prosperity.  The  plants  and 
fruits  of  the  Old  World,  which  he  was  endeavor- 
ing to  introduce  into  the  island,  gave  promise  of 
rapid  increase.  The  orchards,  fields,  and  gardens 
were  in  a  great  state  of  forwardness.  The  seeds 
of  various  fruits  had  produced  young  plants  ;  the 
sugar-cane  had  prospered  exceedingly  ;  a  native 
vine,  trimmed  and  dressed  with  care,  had  yielded 
grapes  of  tolerable  flavor,  and  cuttings  from 
European  vines  already  began  to  form  their  clus- 
ters. On  the3Othof  March  a  husbandman  brought 
to  Columbus  ears  of  wheat  which  had  been  sown 
in  the  latter  part  of  January.  The  smaller  kind 
of  garden  herbs  came  to  maturity  in  sixteen  days, 
and  the  larger  kind,  such  as  melons,  gourds, 
pompions,  and  cucumbers,  were  fit  for  the  table 
within  a  month  after  the  seed  had  been  put  into 
the  ground.  The  soil,  moistened  by  brooks  and 
rivers  and  frequent  showers,  and  stimulated  by 
an  ardent  sun,  possessed  those  principles  of  quick 
and  prodigal  fecundity  which  surprise  the  stran- 
ger, accustomed  to  less  vigorous  climates. 

The  admiral  had  scarcely  returned  to  Isabella 
when  a  messenger  arrived  from  Pedro  Margarite, 
the  commander  at  fort  St.  Thomas,  informing  him 
that  the  Indians  of  the  vicinity  had  manifested  un- 
friendly feelings,  abandoning  their  villages  and 
shunning  all  intercourse  with  the  white  men  ;  and 
that  Caonabo  was  assembling  his  warriors,  and 
preparing  to  attack  the  fortress.  The  fact  was, 
that  the  moment  the  admiral  had  departed,  the 
Spaniards,  no  longer  awed  by  his  presence, -had, 
as  usual,  listened  only  to  their  passions,  and  exas- 
perated the  natives  by  wresting  from  them  their 
gold,  and  wronging  them  with  respect  to  their 
women.  Caonabo  also  had  seen  with  impatience 
these  detested  intruders,  planting  their  standard 
in  the  very  midst  of  his  mountains,  and  he  knew 
that  he  had  nothing  to  expect  from  them  but  ven- 
geance. 

The  tidings  from  Margarite,  however,  caused 
but  little  solicitude  in  the  mind  of  Columbus. 
From  what  he  had  seen  of  the  Indians  in  the  in- 
terior, he  had  no  apprehensions  from  their  hostil- 
ity. He  knew  their  weakness  and  their  awe  of 
white  men,  and  above  all,  he  confided  in  their  ter- 
ror of  the  horses,  which  they  regarded  as  fero- 
cious beasts  of  prey,  obedient  to  the  Spaniards, 
but  ready  to  devour  their  enemies.  He  contented 
himself,  'therefore,  with  sending  Margarite  a  re- 
inforcement of  twenty  men,  with  a  supply  of  pro- 
visions and  ammunition,  and  detaching  thirty 
men  to  open  a  road  between  the  fortress  and  the 
port. 

What  gave  Columbus  real  and  deep  anxiety  was 
the  sickness,  the  discontent,  and  dejection  which 
continued  to  increase  in  the  settlement.  The  same 
principles  of  heat  and  humidity  which  gave  such 
fecundity  to  the  fields  were  fatal  to  the  people. 
The  exhalations  from  undrained  marshes, and  a  vast 
continuity  of  forest,  and  the  action  of  a  burning 
sun  upon  a  reeking  vegetable  soil,  produced  inter- 
mittent fevers,  and  various  other  of  the  maladies 
so  trying  to  European  constitutions  in  the  unculti- 
vated countries  of  the  tropics.  Many  of  the  Span- 
iards suffered  also  under  the  torments  of  a  disease 
hitherto  unknown  to  them,  the  scourge,  as  was 
supposed,  of  their  licentious  intercourse  with  the 
Indian  females  ;  but  the  origin  of  which,  whether 
American  or  European,  has  been  a  subject  of 
great  dispute.  Thus  the  greater  part  of  the  colo- 
nists were  either  confined  by  positive  illness  or 
reduced  to  great  debility.  The  stock  of  medi- 


cines was  soon  exhausted  ;  there  was  a  lack  of 
medical  aid,  and  of  the  watchful  attendance  which 
is  even  more  important  than  medicine  to  the  sick. 
Every  one  who  was  well,  was  either  engrossed  by 
the  public  labors,  or  by  his  own  wants  or  cares  ; 
having  to  perform  all  menial  offices  for  himself, 
even  to  the  cooking  of  his  provisions.  The  public 
works,  therefore,  languished,  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  cultivate  the  soil  in  a  sufficient  degree  to 
produce  a  supply  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth.  Pro- 
visions began  to  fail,  much  of  the  stores  brought 
from  Europe  had  been  wasted  on  board  ship,  or 
suffered  to  spoil  through  carelessness,  and  much 
had  perished  on  shore  from  the  warmth  and  h'u- 
midity  of  the  climate.  It  seemed  impossible  for 
the  colonists  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the 
food  of  the  natives  ;  and  their  infirm  condition  re- 
quired the  aliments  to  which  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed. To  avert  an  absolute  famine,  therefore,  it 
was  necessary  to  put  the  people  on  a  short  allow- 
ance, even  of  the  damaged  and  unhealthy  provi- 
sions which  remained.  This  immediately  caused 
loud  and  factious  murmurs,  in  which  many  of 
those  in  office,  who  ought  to  have  supported  Colum- 
bus in  his  measures  for  the  common  safety,  took 
a  leading  part  ;  among  those  was  Father  Boyle, 
a  priest  as  turbulent  as  he  was  crafty.  He  had 
been  irritated,  it  is  said,  by  the  rigid  impartial- 
ity of  Columbus,  who,  in  enforcing  his  salutary 
measures,  made  no  distinction  of  rank  or  per- 
sons, and  put  the  friar  and  his  household  on  a 
short  allowance  as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  com- 
munity. 

In  the  midst  of  this  general  discontent,  the 
bread  began  to  grow  scarce.  The  stock  of  flour 
was  exhausted,  and  there  was  no  mode  of  grinding 
corn  but  by  the  tedious  and  toilsome  process  of 
the  hand-mill.  It  became  necessary,  therefore,  to 
erect  a  mill  immediately,  and  other  works  were 
required  equally  important  to  the  welfare  of  the 
settlement.  Many  of  the  workmen,  however, 
were  ill,  some  feigning  greater  sickness  than  they 
really  suffered  ;  for  there  was  a  general  disincli- 
nation to  all  kind  of  labor  which  was  not  to  produce 
immediate  wealth.  In  this  emergency,  Columbus 
put  every  healthy  person  in  requisition  ;  and  as 
the  cavaliers  and  gentlemen  of  rank  required  food 
as  well  as  the  lower  orders,  they  were  called  upon 
to  take  their  share  in  the  common  labor.  This 
was  considered  a  cruel  degradation  by  many 
youthful  hidalgos  of  high  blood  and  haughty  spirit, 
and  they  refused  to  obey  the  summons.  Colum- 
bus, however,  was  a  strict  disciplinarian,  and  felt 
the  importance  of  making  his  authority  respected. 
He  resorted,  therefore,  to  strong  and  compulsory 
measures,  and  enforced  their  obedience.  This 
was  another  cause  of  the  deep  and  lasting  hostili- 
ties that  sprang  up  against  him.  It  aroused  the 
immediate  indignation  of  every  person  of  birth 
and  rank  in  the  colony,  and  drew  upon  him  the 
resentment  of  several  of  the  proud  families  of 
Spain.  He  was  inveighed  against  as  an  arrogant 
and  upstart  foreigner,  who,  inflated  with  a  sudden 
acquisition  of  power,  and  consulting  only  his  own 
wealth  and  aggrandizement,  was  trampling  upon 
the  rights  and  dignities  of  Spanish  gentlemen,  and 
insulting  the  honor  of  the  nation. 

Columbus  may  have  been  too  strict  and  indis- 
criminate in  his  regulations.  There  are  cases  in 
which  even  justice  may  become  oppressive,  and 
where  the  severity  of  the  law  should  be  tempered 
with  indulgence.  What  was  mere  toilsome  labor 
to  a  common  man,  became  humiliation  and  dis- 
grace when  forced  upon  a  Spanish  cavalier.  Many 
of  these  young  men  had  come  out,  not  in  the  pur- 


100 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


suit  of  wealth,  but  with  romantic  dreams  inspired 
by  his  own  representations  ;  hoping,  no  doubt,  to 
distinguish  themselves  by  heroic  achievements 
and  chivalrous  adventure,  and  to  continue  in  the 
Indies  the  career  of  arms  which  they  had  com- 
menced in  the  recent  wars  of  Granada.  Others 
had  been  brought  up  in  soft,  luxurious  indulgence, 
in  the  midst  of  opulent  families,  and  were  little 
calculated  for  the  rude  perils  of  the  seas,  the 
fatigues  of  the  land,  and  the  hardships,  the  ex- 
posures, and  deprivations  which  attend  a  new  set- 
tlement in  the  wilderness.  When  they  fell  ill, 
their  case  soon  became  incurable.  The  ailments 
of  the  body  were  increased  by  sickness  of  the 
heart.  They  suffered  under  the  irritation  of 
wounded  pride,  and  the  morbid  melancholy  of 
disappointed  hope  ;  their  sick-bed  was  destitute 
of  all  the  tender  care  and  soothing  attention  to 
which  they  had  been  accustomed  ;  and  they 
sank  into  the  grave  in  all  the  sullenness  of  de- 
spair, cursing  the  day  of  their  departure  from 
their  country. 

The  venerable  Las  Casas,  and  Herrera  after 
him,  record,  with  much  solemnity,  a  popular  be- 
lief current  in  the  island  at  the  time  of  his  resi- 
dence there,  and  connected  with  the  untimely 
fate  of  these  cavaliers. 

In  after  years,  when  the  seat  of  the  colony  was 
removed  from  Isabella  on  account  of  its  unhealthy 
situation,  the  city  fell  to  ruin,  and  was  abandoned. 
Like  all  decayed  and  deserted  places,  it  soon  be- 
came an  object  of  awe  and  superstition  to  the  com- 
mon people,  and  no  one  ventured  to  enter  its 
gates.  Those  who  passed  near  it,  or  hunted  the 
wild  swine  which  abounded  in  the  neighborhood, 
declared  they  heard  appalling  voices  issue  from 
within  its  walls  by  night  and  day.  The  laborers 
became  fearful,  therefore,  of  cultivating  the  adja- 
cent fields.  The  story  went,  adds  Las  Casas,  that 
two  Spaniards  happened  one  day  to  wander  among 
the  ruined  edifices  of  the  place.  On  entering  one 
of  the  solitary  streets,  they  beheld  two  rows  of 
men,  evidently  from  their  stately  demeanor,  hidal- 
gos of  noble  blood,  and  cavaliers  of  the  court. 
They  were  richly  attired  in  the  old  Castilian  mode, 
with  rapiers  by  their  sides,  and  broad  travelling 
hats,  such  as  were  worn  at  the  time.  The  two 
men  were  astonished  to  behold  persons  of  their 
rank  and  appearance  apparently  inhabiting  that 
desolate  place,  unknown  to  the  people  of  the 
island.  They  saluted  them,  and  inquired  whence 
they  came  and  when  they  had  arrived.  The  cava- 
liers maintained  a  gloomy  silence,  but  courteously 
returned  the  salutation  by  raising  their  hands  to 
their  sombreros  or  hats,  in  taking  off  which  their 
heads  came  off  also,  and  their  bodies  stood  de- 
capitated. The  whole  phantom  assemblage  then 
vanished.  So  great  was  the  astonishment  and 
horror  of  the  beholders,  that  they  had  nearly 
fallen  dead,  and  remained  stupefied  for  several 
days.* 

The  foregoing  legend  is  curious,  as  illustrating 
the  superstitious  character  of  the  age,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  people  with  whom  Columbus  had  to 
act.  It  shows,  also,  the  deep  and  gloomy  impres- 
sion made  upon  the  minds  of  the  common  people 
by  the  death  of  these  cavaliers,  which  operated 
materially  to  increase  the  unpopularity  of  Colum- 
bus ;  as  it  was  mischievously  represented,  that 
they  had  been  seduced  from  their  homes  by  his 
delusive  promises,  and  sacrificed  to  his  private 
interests. 


*  Las   Casas,    Hist.     Ind.,    lib.    i.    cap.    92,    MS. 
Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  12.      -— - 


CHAPTER   XII. 

DISTRIBUTION  OF  THE  SPANISH  FORCES  IN  THE 
INTERIOR — PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  VOYAGE  TO 
CUBA. 

[H94-] 

THE  increasing  discontents  of  the  motley  popu- 
lation of  Isabella  and  the  rapid  consumption  of 
the  scanty  stores  which  remained,  were  causes  of 
great  anxiety  to  Columbus.  He  was  desirous  of 
proceeding  on  another  voyage  of  discovery,  but  it 
was  indispensable,  before  sailing,  to  place  the 
affairs  of  the  island  in  such  a  state  as  to  secure 
tranquillity.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  send 
all  the  men  that  could  be  spared  from  Isabella, 
into  the  interior  ;  with  orders  to  visit  the  terri- 
tories of  the  different  caciques,  and  explore  the 
island.  By  this  means  they  would  be  roused  and 
animated  ;  they  would  become  accustomed  to  the 
climate  and  to  the  diet  of  the  natives,  and  such  a 
force  would  be  displayed  as  to  overawe  the  machi- 
nations of  Caonabo  or  any  other  hostile  cacique. 
In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  every  healthy  person,  not 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  concerns  of  the  city  or 
the  care  of  the  sick,  was  put  under  arms,  and  a 
little  army  mustered,  consisting  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  cross-bow  men,  one  hundred  and  ten  ar- 
quebusiers,  sixteen  horsemen,  and  twenty  officers. 
The  general  command  of  the  forces  was  intrusted 
to  Pedro  Margarite,  in  whom  Columbus  had  great 
confidence  as  a  noble  Catalonian,  and  a  knight  of 
the  order  of  Santiago.  Alonso  de  Ojeda  was  to 
conduct  the  army  to  the  fortress  of  St.  Thomas, 
where  he  was  to  succeed  Margarite  in  the  com- 
mand ;  and  the  latter  was  to  proceed  with  the  main 
body  of  the  troops  on  a  military  tour,  in  which  he 
was  particularly  to  explore  the  province  of  Cibao, 
and  subsequently  the  other  parts  of  the  island. 

Columbus  wrote  a  long  and  earnest  letter  of  in- 
structions to  Margarite,  by  which  to  govern  himself 
in  a  service  requiring  such  great  circumspection. 
He  charged  him  above  all  things  to  observe  the 
greatest  justice  and  discretion  in  respect  to  the  In- 
dians, protecting  them  from  all  wrong  and  insult, 
and  treating  them  in  such  a  manner  as  to  secure 
their  confidence  and  friendship.  At  the  same  time 
they  were  to  be  made  to  respect  the  property  of 
the  white  men,  and  all  thefts  were  to  be  severely 
punished.  Whatever  provisions  were  required 
from  them  for  the  subsistence  of  the  army,  were 
to  be  fairly  purchased  by  persons  whom  the  ad- 
miral appointed  for  that  purpose  ;  the  purchases 
were  to  be  made  in  the  presence  of  the  agent  of 
the  comptroller.  If  the  Indians  refused  to  sell  the 
necessary  provisions,  then  Margarite  was  to  inter- 
fere and  compel  them  to  do  so,  acting,  however, 
with  all  possible  gentleness,  and  soothing  them 
by  kindness  and  caresses.  No  traffic  was  to  be 
allowed  between  individuals  and  the  natives,  it 
being  displeasing  to  the  sovereigns  and  injurious 
to  the  service  ;  and  it  was  always  to  be  kept  in 
mind  that  their  majesties  were  more  desirous  of 
the  conversion  of  the  natives  than  of  any  riches  to 
be  derived  from  them. 

A  strict  discipline  was  to  be  maintained  in  the 
army,  all  breach  of  orders  to  be  severely  punished, 
the  men  to  be  kept  together  and  not  suffered  to 
wander  from  the  main  body,  either  singly  or  in 
small  parties,  lest  they  should  be  cut  off  by  the 
natives  ;  for  though  these  people  were  pusillani- 
mous, there  were  no  people  so  apt  to  be  perfidious 
and  cruel  as  cowards.* 


*  Letter  of  Columbus.     Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  ii. 
Document  No.  72. 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


101 


These  judicious  instructions,  which,  if  followed 
might  have  preserved  an  amicable  intercourse 
with  the  natives,  are  more  especially  deserving 
of  notice,  because  Margarite  disregarded  them 
all,  and  by  his  disobedience  brought  trouble  on 
the  colony,  obloquy  on  the  nation,  destruction 
on  the  Indians,  and  unmerited  censure  on  Colum- 
bus. 

In  addition  to  the  foregoing  orders,  there  were 
particular  directions  for  the  suprising  and  secur- 
ing of  the  persons  of  Caonabo  and  his  brothers. 
The  warlike  character  of  that  chieftain,  his  artful 
policy,  extensive  power,  and  implacable  hostility, 
rendered  him  a  dangerous  enemy.  The  measures 
proposed  were  not  the  most  open  and  chivalrous, 
but  Columbus  thought  himself  justified  in  oppos- 
ing stratagem  to  stratagem  with  a  subtle  and  san- 
guinary foe. 

The  Qth  of  April,  Alonso  de  Ojeda  sallied  forth 
from  Isabella  at  the  head  of  the  forces,  amounting 
to  nearly  four  hundred  men.  On  arriving  at  the 
Rio  del  Oro  in  the  Royal  Vega,  he  learnt  that 
three  Spaniards  coming  from  the  fortress  of  St. 
Thomas  had  been  robbed  of  their  effects  by  five 
Indians,  whom  a  neighboring  cacique  had  sent  to 
assist  them  in  fording  the  river  ;  and  that  the 
cacique,  instead  of  punishing  the  thieves,  had 
countenanced  them  and  shared  their  booty.  Ojeda 
was  a  quick,  impetuous  soldier,  whose  ideas  of 
legislation  were  all  of  a  military  kind.  Having 
caught  one  of  the  thieves,  he  caused  his  ears  to 
be  cut  off  in  the  public  square  of  the  village  ;  he 
then  seized  the  cacique,  his  son,  and  nephew,  and 
sent  them  in  chains  to  the  admiral,  after  which  he 
pursued  his  march  to  the  fortress. 

In  the  mean  time  the  prisoners  arrived  at  Isa- 
bella in  deep  dejection.  They  were  accompanied 
by  a  neighboring  cacique,  who,  relying  upon  the 
merit  of  various  acts  of  kindness  which  he  had 
shown  to  the  Spaniards,  came  to  plead  for  their 
forgiveness.  His  intercessions  appeared  to  be  of 
no  avail.  Columbus  felt  the  importance  of  strik- 


ing awe  into  the  minds  of  the  natives  with  respect 
to  the  property  of  the  white  men.  He  ordered, 
therefore,  that  the  prisoners  should  be  taken  to  the 
public  square  with  their  hands  tied  behind  them, 
their  crime  and  punishment  proclaimed  by  the 
crier,  and  their  heads  struck  off.  Nor  was  this  a 
punishment  disproportioned  to  their  own  ideas  of 
justice,  for  we  are  told  that  the  crime  of  theft  was 
held  in  such  abhorrence  among  them,  that,  though 
not  otherwise  sanguinary  in  their  laws,  they  pun- 
ished it  with  impalement.*  It  is  not  probable, 
however,  that  Columbus  really  meant  to  carry  the 
sentence  into  effect.  At  the  place  of  execution  the 
prayers  and  tears  of  the  friendly  cacique  were  re- 
doubled, pledging  himself  that  there  should  be  no 
repetition  of  the  offence.  The  admiral  at  length 
made  a  merit  of  yielding  to  his  entreaties,  and 
released  the  prisoners.  Just  at  this  juncture  a 
horseman  arrived  from  the  fortress,  who,  in  pass- 
ing by  the  village  of  the  captive  cacique,  had  found 
five  Spaniards  in  the  power  of  the  Indians.  The 
sight  of  his  horse  had  put  the  multitude  to  flight, 
though  upward  of  four  hundred  in  number.  He 
had  pursued  the  fugitives,  wounding  several  with 
his  lance,  and  had  brought  off  his  countrymen  in 
triumph. 

Convinced  by  this  circumstance  that  nothing 
was  to  be  apprehended  from  the  hostilities  of  these 
timid  people  as  long  as  his  orders  were  obeyed, 
and  confiding  in  the  distribution  he  had  made  of 
his  forces,  both  for  the  tranquillity  of  the  colony 
and  the  island,  Columbus  prepared  to  depart  on  the 
prosecution  of  his  discoveries.  To  direct  the 
affairs  of  the  island  during  his  absence,  he  formed 
a  junta,  of  which  his  brother  Don  Diego  was  presi- 
dent, and  Father  Boyle,  Pedro  Fernandez  Coronel, 
Alonzo  Sanchez  Caravajal,  and  Juan  de  Luxan, 
were  councillors.  He  left  his  two  largest  ships  in 
the  harbor,  being  of  too  great  a  size  and  draught 
of  water  to  explore  unknown  coasts  and*  rivers, 
and  he  took  with  him  three  caravels,  the  Nina  or 
Santa  Clara,  the  San  Juan,  and  the  Cordera. 


BOOK  VII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

VOYAGE  TO  THE  EAST    END  OF  CUBA. 
[I494-] 

THE  expedition  of  Columbus,  which  we  are  now 
about  to  record,  may  appear  of  minor  importance 
at  the  present  day,  leading  as  it  did  to  no  grand 
discovery,  and  merely  extending  along  the  coasts 
of  islands  with  which  the  reader  is  sufficiently 
familiar.  Some  may  feel  impatient  at  the  develop- 
ment of  opinions  and  conjectures  which  have  long 
since  been  proved  to  be  fallacious,  and  the  detail 
of  exploring  enterprises,  undertaken  in  error,  and 
which  they  know  must  end  in  disappointment. 
But  to  feel  these  voyages  properly,  we  must,  in  a 
manner,  divest  ourselves  occasionally  of  the  infor- 
mation we  possess,  relative  to  the  countries  visit- 
ed ;  we  must  transport  ourselves  to  the  time,  and 
identify  ourselves  with  Columbus,  thus  fearlessly 
launching  into  seas,  where  as  yet  a  civilized  sail 
had  never  been  unfurled.  We  must  accompany 
him,  step  by  step,  in  his  cautious  but  bold  ad: 
vances  along  the  bays  and  channels  of  an  un- 


known coast,  ignorant  of  the  dangers  which  might 
lurk  around  or  which  might  await  him  in  the  in- 
terminable region  of  mystery  that  still  kept  break- 
ing upon  his  view.  We  must,  as  it  were,  consult 
with  him  as  to  each  new  reach  of  shadowy  land, 
and  long  line  of  promontory,  that  we  see  faintly 
emerging  from  the  ocean  and  stretching  along  the 
distant  horizon.  We  must  watch  with  him  each 
light  canoe  that  comes  skimming  the  billows,  to 
gather  from  the  looks,  the  ornaments,  and  the  im- 
perfect communications  of  its  wandering  crew, 
whether  those  unknown  lands  are  also  savage  and 
uncultivated,  whether  they  are  islands  in  the 
ocean,  untrodden  as  yet  by  civilized  man,  or  tracts 
of  the  old  continent  of  Asia,  and  wild  frontiers  of 
its  populous  and  splendid  empires.  We  must  enter 
into  his  very  thoughts  and  fancies,  find  out  the 
data  that  assisted  his  judgment,  and  the  hints  that 
excited  his  conjectures,  and  for  a  time  clothe  the 
regions  through  which  we  are  accompanying  him 
with  the  gorgeous  coloring  of  his  own  imagina- 
tion. In  this  way  we  may  delude  ourselves  into 


*  Oviedo,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  v.  cap.  3. 


102 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


participation  of  the  delight  of  exploring  unknown 
and  magnificent  lands,  where  new  wonders  and 
beauties  break  upon  us  at  every  step,  and  we  may 
ultimately  be  able,  as  it  were,  from  our  own  familiar 
acquaintance,  to  form  an  opinion  of  the  character 
of  this  extraordinary  man,  and  of  the  nature  of  his 
enterprises. 

The  plan  of  the  present  expedition  of  Columbus 
was  to  revisit  the  coast  of  Cuba  at  the  point  where 
he  had  abandoned  it  on  his  first  voyage,  and 
thence  to  explore  it  on  the  southern  side.  As  has 
already  been  observed,  he  supposed  it  to  be  a 
continent,  and  the  extreme  end  of  Asia,  and  if  so, 
by  following  its  shores  in  the  proposed  direction 
he  must  eventually  arrive  at  Cathay  and  those 
other  rich  and  commercial  though  semi-barbarous 
countries  described  by  Mandeville  and  Marco 
Polo.* 

He  set  sail  with  his  little  squadron  from  the 
harbor  of  Isabella  on  the  24th  of  April,  and  steer- 
ed to  the  westward.  After  touching  at  Monte 
Christi,  he  anchored  on  the  same  day  at  the  disas- 
trous harbor  of  La  Navidad.  His  object  in  revis- 
iting this  melancholy  scene  was  to  obtain  an  in- 
terview with  Guacanagari,  who,  he  understood, 
had  returned  to  his  former  residence.  He  could 
not  be  persuaded  of  the  perfidy  of  that  cacique,  so 
deep  was  the  impression  made  upon  his  heart  by 
past  kindness  ;  he  trusted,  therefore,  that  a  frank 
explanation  would  remove  all  painful  doubts,  and 
restore  a  friendly  intercourse,  which  would  be 
highly  advantageous  to  the  Spaniards,  in  their 
present  time  of  scarcity  and  suffering.  Guacana- 
gari, however,  still  maintained  his  equivocal  con- 
duct, absconding  at  the  sight  of  the  ships  ;  and 
though  several  of  his  subjects  assured  Columbus 
that  the  cacique  would  soon  make  him  a  visit,  he 
did  not  think  it  advisable  to  delay  his  voyage  on 
such  an  uncertainty. 

Pursuing  his  course,  impeded  occasionally  by 
contrary  winds,  he  arrived  on  the  2oth  at  the  port 
of  St.  Nicholas,  whence  he  behelcl  the  extreme 
point  of  Cuba,  to  which  in  his  preceding  voyage 
he  had  given  the  name  of  Alpha  and  Omega,  but 
which  was  called  by  the  natives  Bayatiquiri,  and 
is  now  known  as  Point  Maysi.  Having  crossed 
the  channel,  which  is  about  eighteen  leagues 
wide,  he  sailed  along  the  southern  coast  of  Cuba, 
for  the  distance  of  twenty  leagues,  when  he 
anchored  in  a  harbor,  to  which,  from  its  size,  he 
gave  the  name  of  Puerto  Grande,  at  present  called 
Guantanamo.  The  entrance  was  narrow  and 
•winding,  though  deep  ;  the  harbor  expanded  with- 
in like  a  beautiful  lake,  in  the  bosom  of  a  wild 
and  mountainous  country,  covered  with  trees, 
some  of  them  in  blossom,  others  bearing  fruit. 
Not  far  from  the  shore  were  two  cottages  built  of 
reeds,  and  several  fires  blazing  in  various  parts  of 
the  beach  gave  signs  of  inhabitants.  Columbus 
landed,  therefore,  attended  by  several  men  well 
armed,  and  by  the  young  Indian  interpreter  Diego 
Colon,  the  native  of  the  island  of  Guanahani  who 
had  been  baptized  in  Spain.  On  arriving  at  the 
cottages,  he  found  them  deserted  ;  the  fires  also 
were  abandoned,  and  there  was  not  a  human  be- 
ing to  be  seen.  The  Indians  had  all  fled  to  the 
woods  and  mountains.  The  sudden  arrival  of  the 
ships  had  spread  a  panic  throughout  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  apparently  interrupted  the  preparations 
for  a  rude  but  plentiful  banquet.  There  were 
great  quantities  of  fish,  utias,  and  guanas  ;  some 
suspended  to  the  branches  of  the  trees,  others 
roasting  on  wooden  spits  before  the  fires. 

*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  123,  MS. 


The  Spaniards,  accustomed  of  late  to  slender 
fare,  fell  without  ceremony  on  this  bounteous 
feast,  thus  spread  for  them,  as  it  were,  in  the  wil- 
derness. They  abstained,  however,  from  the 
guanas,  which  they  still  regarded  with  disgust  as  a 
species  of  serpent,  though  they  were  considered  so 
delicate  a  food  by  the  savages,  that,  according  to 
Peter  Martyr,  it  was  no  more  lawful  for  the  com- 
mon people  to  eat  of  them,  than  of  peacocks  and 
pheasants  in  Spain.* 

After  their  repast,  as  the  Spaniards  were  roving 
about  the  vicinity,  they  beheld  about  seventy  of 
the  natives  collected  on  the  top  of  a  lofty  rock, 
and  looking  down  upon  them  with  great  awe  and 
amazement.  On  attempting  to  approach  them 
they  instantly  disappeared  among  the  woods  and 
clefts  of  the  mountain.  One,  however,  more  bold 
or  more  curious  than  the  rest,  lingered  on  the 
brow  of  the  precipice,  gazing  with  timid  wonder 
at  the  Spaniards,  partly  encouraged  by  their 
friendly  signs,  but  ready  in  an  instant  to  bound 
away  after  his  companions. 

By  order  of  Columbus  the  young  Lucayan  inter- 
preter advanced  and  accosted  him.  The  expres- 
sions of  friendship,  in  his  own  language,  soon  dis- 
pelled his  apprehensions.  He  came  to  meet  the 
interpreter,  and  being  informed  by  him  of  the  good 
intentions  of  the  Spaniards,  hastened  to  commu- 
nicate the  intelligence  to  his  comrades.  In  a  little 
while  they  were  seen  descending  from  their  rocks, 
and  issuing  from  their  forests,  approaching  the 
strangers  with  great  gentleness  and  veneration. 
Through  the  means  of  the  interpreter,  Columbus 
learnt  that  they  had  been  sent  to  the  coast  by  their 
cacique,  to  procure  fish  for  a  solemn  banquet, 
which  he  was  about  to  give  to  a  neighboring 
chieftain,  and  that  they  roasted  the  fish  to  prevent 
it  from  spoiling  in  the  transportation.  They  seem- 
ed to  be  of  the  same  gentle  and  pacific  character 
with  the  natives  of  Hayti.  The  ravages  that  had 
been  made  among  their  provisions  by  the  hungry- 
Spaniards  gave  them  no  concern,  for  they  observed 
that  one  night's  fishing  would  replace  all  the  loss. 
Columbus,  however,  in  his  usual  spirit  of  justice, 
ordered  that  ample  compensation  should  be  made 
them,  and,  shaking  hands,  they  parted  mutually 
well-pleased. f 

Leaving  this  harbor  on  the  istof  May,  the  ad- 
miral continued  to  the  westward,  along  a  moun- 
tainous coast,  adorned  by  beautiful  rivers,  and  in- 
dented by  those  commodious  harbors  for  which 
this  island  is  so  remarkable.  As  he  advanced,  the 
country  grew  more  fertile  and  populous.  The  na- 
tives crowded  to  the  shores,  man,  woman,  and 
child,  gazing  with  astonishment  at  the  ships, 
which  glided  gently  along  at  no  great  distance. 
They  held  up  fruits  and  provisions,  inviting  the 
Spaniards  to  land  ;  others  came  off  in  canoes, 
bringing  cassava  bread,  fish,  and  calabashes  of 
water,  not  for  sale,  but  as  offerings  to  the  stran- 
gers, whom,  as  usual,  they  considered  celestial  be- 
ings descended  from  the  skies.  Columbus  distrib- 
uted the  customary  presents  among  them,  which 
were  received  with  transports  of  joy  and  gratitude. 
After  continuing  some  distance  along  the  coast, 
he  came  to  another  gulf  or  deep  bay,  narrow  at 
the  entrance  and  expanding  within,  surrounded 
by  a  rich  and  beautiful  country.  There  were  lofty 
mountains  sweeping  up  from  the  sea,  but  the 
shores  were  enlivened  by  numerous  villages,  and 
cultivated  to  such  a  degree  as  to  resemble  gar- 
dens and  orchards.  In  this  harbor,  which  it  is 


*  P.  Martyr,  decad.  5.  lib.  iii. 
f  Peter  Martyr,  ubi  sup. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


103 


probable  was  the  same  at  present  called  St.  Jago 
de  Cuba,  Columbus  anchored  and  passed  a  night, 
overwhelmed,  as  usual,  with  the  simple  hospital- 
ity of  the  natives.* 

On  inquiring  of  the  people  of  this  coast  after 
gold,  they  uniformly  pointed  to  the  south,  and,  as 
far  as  they  could  be  understood,  intimated  that  it 
abounded  in  a  great  island  which  lay  in  that  di- 
rection. The  admiral,  in  the  course  of  his  first 
voyage,  had  received  information  of  such  an 
island,  which  some  of  his  followers  had  thought 
might  be  Babeque,  the  object  of  so  much  anxious 
search  and  chimerical  expectation.  He  had  felt  a 
strong  inclination  to  diverge  from  his  course  and 
go  in  quest  of  it,  and  this  desire  increased  with 
every  new  report.  On  the  following  day,  there- 
fore (the  3d  of  May),  after  standing  westward  to  a 
high  cape,  he  turned  his  prow  directly  south,  and 
abandoning  tor  a  time  the  coast  of  Cuba,  steered 
off  into  the  broad  sea,  in  quest  of  this  reported 
island. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DISCOVERY    OF  JAMAICA. 
[H94-] 

COLUMBUS  had  not  sailed  many  leagues  before 
the  blue  summits  of  a  vast  and  lofty  island  at  a 
great  distance,  began  to  rise  like  clouds  above  the 
horizon.  It  was  two  days  and  nights,  however, 
before  he  reached  its  shores,  filled  with  admira- 
tion, as  he  gradually  drew  near,  at  the  beauty  of 
its  mountains,  the  majesty  of  its  forests,  the  fertil- 
ity of  its  valleys,  and  the  great  number  of  villages 
with  which  the  whole  face  of  the  country  was  ani- 
mated. 

On  approaching  the  land,  at  least  seventy  ca- 
noes, filled  with  savages  gayly  painted  and  deco- 
rated with  feathers,  sallied  forth  more  than  a 
league  from  the  shore.  They  advanced  in  war- 
like array,  uttering  loud  yells,  and  brandish- 
ing lances  of  pointed  wood.  The  mediation  of 
the  interpreter,  and  a  few  presents  to  the  crew  of 
one  of  the  canoes,  which  ventured  nearer  than 
the  rest,  soothed  this  angry  armada,  and  the 
squadron  pursued  its  course  unmolested.  Colum- 
bus anchored  in  a  harbor  about  the  centre  of  the 
island,  to  which,  from  the  great  beauty  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  he  gave  the  name  of  Santa 
Gloria. f 

On  the  following  morning  he  weighed  anchor 
at  daybreak,  and  coasted  westward  in  search  of  a 
sheltered  harbor,  where  his  ship  could  be  careen- 
ed and  calked,  as  it  leaked  considerably.  After 
proceeding  a  few  leagues,  he  found  one  apparent- 
ly suitable  for  the  purpose.  On  sending  a  boat  to 
sound  the  entrance,  two  large  canoes,  filled  with 
Indians,  issued  forth,  hurling  their  lances,  but 
from  such  distance  as  to  fall  short  of  the  Span- 
iards. Wishing  to  avoid  any  act  of  hostility  that 
might  preveit  future  intercourse,  Columbus 
ordered  the  boat  to  return  on  board,  and  finding 
there  was  sufficient  depth  of  water  for  his  ship, 
entered  and  anchored  in  the  harbor.  Immediately 
the  whole  beach  was  covered  with  Indians  painted 
with  a  variety  of  colors,  but  chiefly  black,  some 
partly  clothed  with  palm-leaves,  and  all  wearing 
tufts  and  coronets  of  feathers.  Unlike  the  hospi- 
table islanders  of  Cuba  and  Hayti,  they  appeared 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  124,  MS. 
f  Ibid.,  cap.  125. 


to  partake  of  the  warlike  character  of  the  Caribs, 
hurling  their  javelins  at  the  ships,  and  making 
the  shores  resound  with  their  yells  and  war- 
whoops. 

The  admiral  reflected  that  further  forbearance 
might  be  mistaken  for  cowardice.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  careen  his  ship,  and  to  send  men  on  shore 
for  a  supply  of  water,  but  previously  it  was  advis- 
able to  strike  an  awe  into  the  savages,  that  might 
prevent  any  molestation  from  them.  As  the  cara- 
vels could  not  approach  sufficiently  near  to  the 
beach  where  the  Indians  were  collected,  he  dis- 
patched the  boats  well  manned  and  armed. 
These,  rowing  close  to  the  shore,  let  fly  a  volley 
of  arrows  from  their  cross-bows,  by  which  several 
Indians  were  wounded,  and  the  rest  thrown  into 
confusion.  The  Spaniards  then  sprang  on  shore, 
and  put  the  whole  multitude  to  flight  ;  giving 
another  discharge  with  their  cross-bows,  and  let- 
ting loose  upon  them  a  dog,  who  pursued  them 
with  sanguinary  fury.*  This  is  the  first  instance 
of  the  use  of  dogs  against  the  natives,  which  were 
afterward  employed  with  such  cruel  effect  by  the 
Spaniards  in  their  Indian  wars.  Columbus  now 
landed  and  took  formal  possession  of  the  island, 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Santiago  ;  but  it 
has  retained  its  original  Indian  name  of  Jamaica. 
The  harbor,  from  its  commodiousness,  he  called 
Puerto  Bueno  ;  it  was  in  the  form  of  a  horseshoe, 
and  a  river  entered  the  sea  in  its  vicinity. f 

During  the  rest  of  the  day  the  neighborhood  re- 
mained silent  and  deserted.  On  the  following 
morning,  however,  before  sunrise,  six  Indians 
were  seen  on  the  shore,  making  signs  of  amity. 
They  proved  to  be  envoys  sent  by  the  caciques 
with  proffers  of  peace  and  friendship.  These  were 
cordially  returned  by  the  admiral  ;  presents  of 
trinkets  were  sent  to  the  chieftains  ;  and  in  a  little 
while  the  harbor  again  swarmed  with  the  naked 
and  painted  multitude,  bringing  abundance  of 
provisions,  similar  in  kind,  but  superior  in  qual- 
ity, to  those  of  the  other  islands. 

During  three  days  that  the  ships  remained  in 
this  harbor,  the  most  amicable  intercourse  was 
kept  up  with  the  natives.  They  appeared  to  be 
more  ingenious,  as  well  as  more  warlike,  than 
their  neighbors  of  Cuba  and  Hayti.  Their  canoes 
were  better  constructed,  being  ornamented  with 
carving  and  painting  at  the  bow  and  stern.  Many- 
were  of  great  size,  though  formed  of  the  trunks  of 
single  trees,  often  from  a  species  of  the  mahogany. 
Columbus  measured  one,  which  was  ninety-six 
feet  long,  and  eight  broad,  J  hollowed  out  of  one 
of  those  magnificent  trees  which  rise  like  verdant 
towers  amidst  the  rich  forests  of  the  tropics. 
Every  cacique  prided  himself  on  possessing  a 
large  canoe  of  the  kind,  which  he  seemed  to  re- 
gard as  his  ship  of  state.  It  is  curious  to  remark 
the  apparently  innate  difference  between  these 
island  tribes.  The  natives  of  Porto  Rico,  though 
surrounded  by  adjacent  islands,  and  subject  to  fre- 
quent incursions  of  the  Caribs,  were  of  a  pacific 
character,  and  possessed  very  few  canoes  ;  while 
Jamaica,  separated  by  distance  from  intercourse 
with  other  islands,  protected  in  the  same  way 
from  the  dangers  of  invasion,  and  embosomed,  as 
it  were,  in  a  peaceful  Mediterranean  Sea,  was  in- 
habited by  a  warlike  race,  and  surpassed  all  the 
other  islands  in  its  maritime  armaments. 

His  ship  being  repaired,  and  a  supply  of  water 
taken  in,  Columbus  made  sail,  and  continued 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  125. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  ubi  sup. 
Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  124. 


104 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


along  the  coast  to  the  westward,  so  close  to  the 
shore  that  the  little  squadron  was  continually 
surrounded  by  the  canoes  of  the  natives,  who 
came  off  from  every  bay,  and  river,  and  headland, 
no  longer  manifesting  hostility,  but  anxious  to  ex- 
change anything  they  possessed  for  European  tri- 
fles. After  proceeding  about  twenty-four  leagues, 
they  approached  the  western  extremity  of  the 
island,  where  the  coast  bending  to  the  south,  the 
wind  became  unfavorable  for  their  further  prog- 
ress along  the  shore.  Being  disappointed  in  his 
hopes  of  finding  gold  in  Jamaica,  and  the  breeze 
being  fair  for  Cuba,  Columbus  determined  to  re- 
turn thither,  and  not  to  leave  it  until  he  had  ex- 
plored its  coast  to  a  sufficient  distance  to  deter- 
mine the  question  whether  it  were  terra  firma  or 
an  island.*  To  the  last  place  at  which  he  touched 
in  Jamaica,  he  gave  the  name  of  the  Gulf  of  Buen- 
tiempo  (or  Fair  Weather),  on  account  of  the  pro- 
pitious wind  which  blew  for  Cuba.  Just  as  he 
was  about  to  sail,  a  young  Indian  came  off  to  the 
ship,  and  begged  the  Spaniards  would  take  him  to 
their  country.  He  was  followed  by  his  relatives 
and  friends,  who  endeavored  by  the  most  affect- 
ing supplications  to  dissuade  him  from  his  pur- 
pose. For  some  time  he  was  distracted  between 
concern  for  the  distress  of  his  family,  and  an  ardent 
desire  to  see  the  home  of  these  wonderful  stran- 
gers. Curiosity,  and  the  youthful  propensity  to 
rove,  prevailed  ;  he  tore  himself  from  the  embraces 
of  his  friends,  and,  that  he  might  not  behold  the 
tears  of  his  sisters,  hid  himself  in  a  secret  part  of 
the  ship.  Touched  by  this  scene  of  natural  affec- 
tion, and  pleased  with  the  enterprising  and  con- 
fiding spirit  of  the  youth,  Columbus  gave  orders 
that  he  should  be  treated  with  especial  kindness. f 
It  would  have  been  interesting  to  have  known 
something  more  of  the  fortunes  of  this  curious 
savage,  and  of  the  impressions  made  upon  so  live- 
ly a  mind  by  a  first  sight  of  the  wonders  of  civili- 
zation—  whether  the  land  of  the  white  men 
equalled  his  hopes  ;  whether,  as  is  usual  with 
savages,  he  pined  amid  the  splendors  of  cities  for 
his  native  forests,  and  whether  he  ever  returned 
to  the  arms  of  his  family.  The  early  Spanish  his- 
torians seem  never  to  have  interested  themselves 
in  the  feelings  or  fortunes  of  these  first  visitors 
from  the  New  to  the  Old  World.  No  further  men- 
tion is  made  of  this  youthful  adventurer. 


CHAPTER  III. 

RETURN      TO      CUBA — NAVIGATION      AMONG     THE 
ISLANDS   CALLED  THE    QUEEN'S    GARDENS. 

[H94-] 

SETTING  sail  from  the  Gulf  of  Buentiempo,  the 
squadron  once  more  steered  for  the  island  of 
Cuba,  and  on  the  i8th  of  May  arrived  at  a  great 
cape,  to  which  Columbus  gave  the  name  of  Cabo 
de  la  Cruz,  which  it  still  retains.  Here,  landing 
at  a  large  village,  he  was  well  received  and  enter- 
tained by  the  cacique  and  his  subjects,  who  had 
long  since  heard  of  him  and  his  ships.  In  fact, 
Columbus  found,  from  the  report  of  this  chieftain, 
that  the  numerous  Indians  who  had  visited  his 
ships  during  his  cruise  along  the  northern  coast 
in  his  first  voyage,  had  spread  the  story  far  and 
near  of  these  wonderful  visitors  who  had  descend- 
ed from  the  sky,  and  had  filled  the  whole  island 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  54. 


f  Ibid. 


with  rumors  and  astonishment.*  The  admiral  en- 
deavored to  ascertain  from  this  cacique  and  his 
people,  whether  Cuba  was  an  island  or  a  conti- 
nent. They  all  replied  that  it  was  an  island,  but 
of  infinite  extent  ;  for  they  declared  that  no  one 
had  ever  seen  the  end  of  it.  This  reply,  while  it 
manifested  their  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  a  con- 
tinent, left  the  question  still  in  doubt  and  obscuri- 
ty. The  Indian  name  of  this  province  of  Cuba 
was  Macaca. 

Resuming  his  course  to  the  west  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  Columbus  came  to  where  the  coast  sud- 
denly swept  away  to  the  north-east  for  many 
leagues,  and  then  curved  around  again  to  the 
west,  forming  an  immense  bay,  or  rather  gulf. 
Here  he  was  assailed  by  a  violent  storm,  accom- 
panied by  awful  thunder  and  lightning,  which  in 
these  latitudes  seem  to  rend  the  very  heavens. 
Fortunately  the  storm  was  not  of  long  duration, 
or  his  situation  would  have  been  perilous  in  the 
extreme  ;  for  he  found  the  navigation  rendered 
difficult  by  numerous  f  keys  and  sand-banks. 
These  increased  as  he  advanced,  until  the  mari- 
ner stationed  at  the  masthead  beheld  the  sea,  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  completely  studded 
with  small  islands  ;  some  were  low,  naked,  and 
sandy,  others  covered  with  verdure,  and  others 
tufted  with  lofty  and  beautiful  forests.  They  were 
of  various  sizes,  from  one  to  four  leagues,  and 
were  generally  the  more  fertile  and  elevated,  the 
nearer  they  were  to  Cuba.  Finding  them  to  in- 
crease in  number,  so  as  to  render  it  impossible  to 
give  names  to  each,  the  admiral  gave  the  whole 
labyrinth  of  islands,  which  in  a  manner  enamelled 
the  face  of  the  ocean  with  variegated  verdure,  the 
name  of  the  Queen's  Gardens.  He  thought  at 
first  of  leaving  this  archipelago  on  his  right,  and 
standing  farther  out  to  sea  ;  but  he  called  to  mind 
that  Sir  John  Mandeville  and  Marco  Polo  had 
mentioned  that  the  coast  of  Asia  was  fringed  with 
islands  to  the  amount  of  several  thousand.  He 
persuaded  himself  that  he  was  among  that  cluster, 
and  resolved  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  main-land, 
by  following  which,  if  it  were  really  Asia,  he 
must  soon  arrive  at  the  dominions  of  the  Grand 
Khan. 

Entering  among  these  islands,  therefore,  Co- 
lumbus soon  became  entangled  in  the  most  per- 
plexed navigation,  in  which  he  was  exposed  to 
continual  perils  and  difficulties  from  sand-banks, 
counter  currents,  and  sunken  rocks.  The  ships 
were  compelled,  in  a  manner,  to  grope  their  way, 
with  men  stationed  at  the  masthead,  and  the  lead 
continually  going.  Sometimes  they  were  obliged 
to  shift  their  course,  within  the  hour,  to  all  points 
of  the  compass  ;  sometimes  they  were  straitened  in 
a  narrow  channel,  where  it  was  necessary  to  lower 
all  sail,  and  tow  the  vessels  out,  lest  they  should 
run  aground  ;  notwithstanding  all  which  precau- 
tions they  frequently  touched  upon  sand-banks, 
and  were  extricated  with  great  difficulty.  The 
variableness  of  the  weather  added  to  the  embar- 
rassment of  the  navigation  ;  though  after  a  little 
while  it  began  to  assume  some  method  in  its  very 
caprices.  In  the  morning  the  wind  rose  in  the 
east  with  the  sun,  and  following  his  course  through 
the  day,  died  away  at  sunset  in  the  west.  Heavy 
clouds  gathered  with  the  approach  of  evening, 
sending  forth  sheets  of  lightning,  and  distant  peals 
of  thunder,  and  menacing  a  furious  tempest  ;  but 
as  the  moon  rose,  the  whole  mass  broke  away, 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  126. 
•f-  Keys,  from  Cayos.  rocks  which  occasionally  form 
small  islands  on  the  coast  of  America. 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


105 


part  melting  in  a  shower,  and  part  dispersing  by 
a  breeze  which  sprang  up  from  the  land. 

There  was  much  in  the  character  of  the  sur- 
rounding scenery  to  favor  the  idea  of  Columbus, 
that  he  was  in  the  Asiatic  archipelago.  As  the 
ships  glided  along  the  smooth  and  glassy  canals 
which  separated  these  verdant  islands,  the  mag- 
nificence of  their  vegetation,  the  soft  odors  wafted 
from  flowers,  and  blossoms,  and  aromatic  shrubs, 
and  the  splendid  plumage  of  the  scarlet  cranes,  or 
rather  flamingoes,  which  abounded  in  the  mead- 
ows, and  of  other  tropical  birds  which  fluttered 
among  the  groves,  resembled  what  is  described  of 
Oriental  climes.  These  islands  were  generally 
uninhabited.  They  found  a  considerable  village, 
however,  on  one  or  the  largest,  where  they  landed 
on  the  22d  of  May.  The  houses  were  abandoned 
by  their  inhabitants,  who  appeared  to  depend 
principally  on  the  sea  for  their  subsistence.  Large 
quantities  of  fish  were  found  in  their  dwellings, 
and  the  adjacent  shore  was  covered  with  the  shells 
of  tortoises.  There  were  also  domesticated  par- 
rots, and  scarlet  cranes,  and  a  number  of  dumb 
dogs,  which  it  was  afterward  found  they  fattened 
as  an  article  of  food.  To  this  island  the  admiral 
gave  the  name  of  Santa  Marta. 

In  the  course  of  his  voyage  among  these  islands, 
Columbus  beheld  one  day  a  number  of  the  natives 
in  a  canoe  on  the  still  surface  of  one  of  the  chan- 
nels, occupied  in  fishing,  and  was  struck  with 
the  singular  means  they  employed.  They  had  a 
small  fish,  the  flat  head  of  which  was  furnished 
with  numerous  suckers,  by  which  it  attached  itself 
so  firmly  to  any  object,  as  to  be  torn  in  pieces 
rather  than  abandon  its  hold.  Tying  a  line  of 
great  length  to  the  tail  of  this  fish,  the  Indians 
permitted  it  to  swim  at  large  ;  it  generally  kept 
near  the  surface  of  the  water  until  it  perceived  its 
prey,  when,  darting  down  swiftly,  it  attached  itself 
by  the  suckers  to  the  throat  of  a  fish  or  to  the 
Under  shell  of  a  tortoise,  nor  did  it  relinquish  its 
prey  until  both  were  drawn  up  by  the  fisherman 
and  taken  out  of  the  water.  In  this  way  the  Span- 
iards witnessed  the  taking  of  a  tortoise  of  im- 
mense size,  and  Fernando  Columbus  affirms  that 
he  himself  saw  a  shark  caught  in  the  same  man- 
ner on  the  coast  of  Veragua.  The  fact  has  been 
corroborated  by  the  accounts  of  various  naviga- 
tors ;  and  the  same  mode  of  fishing  is  said  to  be 
employed  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa,  at  Mo- 
zambique, and  at  Madagascar.  "  Thus,"  it  has 
been  observed,  "  savage  people,  who  probably 
have  never  held  communication  with  each  other, 
offer  the  most  striking  analogies  in  their  modes  of 
exercising  empire  over  animals."  *  These  fisher- 
men came  on  board  of  the  ships  in  a  fearless  man- 
ner. They  furnished  the  Spaniards  with  a  supply 
of  fish,  and  would  cheerfully  have  given  them 
everything  they  possessed.  To  the  admiral's  in- 
quiries concerning  those  parts,  they  said  that  the 
sea  was  full  of  islands  to  the  south  and  to  the 
west,  but  as  to  Cuba,  it  continued  running  to  the 
westward  without  any  termination. 

Having  extricated  himself  from  this  archipelago, 
Columbus  steered  for  a  mountainous  part  of  the 
island  of  Cuba  about  fourteen  leagues  distant, 
where  he  landed  at  a  large  village  on  the  3d  of 
June.  Here  he  was  received  with  that  kindness 
and  amity  which  distinguished  the  inhabitants  of 
Cuba,  whom  he  extolled  above  all  the  other  island- 
ers for  their  mild  and  pacific  character.  Their 
very  animals,  he  said,  were  tamer,  as  well  as 


larger  and  better,  than  those  of  the  other  islands. 
Among  the  various  articles  of  food  which  the  na- 
tives brought  with  joyful  alacrity  from  all  parts, 
were  stock-doves  of  uncommon  size  and  flavor  ; 
perceiving  something  peculiar  in  their  taste,  Co- 
lumbus ordered  the  crops  of  several  newly  killed 
to  be  opened,  in  which  were  found  sweet  spices. 

While  the  crews  of  the  boats  were  procuring 
water  and  provisions,  Columbus  sought  to  gather 
information  from  the  venerable  cacique,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  old  men  of  the  village.  They  told  him 
that  the  name  of  their  province  was  Ornofay  ;  that 
farther  to  the  westward  the  sea  was  again  covered 
with  innumerable  islands,  and  had  but  little  depth. 
As  to  Cuba,  none  of  them  had  ever  heard  that  it 
had  an  end  to  the  westward  ;  forty  moons  would 
not  suffice  to  reach  to  its  extremity  ;  in  fact,  they 
considered  it  interminable.  They  observed,  how- 
ever, that  the  admiral  would  receive  more  ample 
information  from  the  inhabitants  of  Mangon,  an 
adjacent  province,  which  lay  toward  the  west. 
The  quick  apprehension  of  Columbus  was  struck 
with  the  sound  of  this  name  ;  it  resembled  that  of 
Mangi,  the  richest  province  of  the  Grand  Khan, 
bordering  on  the  ocean.  He  made  further  inqui- 
ries concerning  the  region  of  Mangon,  and  under- 
stood the  Indians  to  say  that  it  was  inhabited  by 
people  who' had  tails  like  animals,  and  wore  gar- 
ments to  conceal  them.  He  recollected  that  Sir 
John  Mandeville,  in  his  account  of  the  remote 
parts  of  the  East,  had  recorded  a  story  of  the  same 
kind  as  current  among  certain  naked  tribes  of 
Asia,  and  told  by  them  in  ridicule  of  the  garments 
of  their  civilized  neighbors,  which  they  could  only 
conceive  useful  as  concealing  some  bodily  defect.* 
He  became,  therefore,  more  confident  than  ever 
that,  by  keeping  along  the  coast  to  the  westward, 
he  should  eventually  arrive  at  the  civilized  realms 
of  Asia.  He  flattered  himself  with  the  hopes  of 
finding  this  region  of  Mangon  to  be  the  rich  prov- 
ince of  Mangi,  and  its  people  with  tails  and  gar- 
ments, the  long-robed  inhabitants  of  the  empire  of 
Tartary, 


*  Humboldt,   Essai    Politique  sur  1'Ile   de  Cuba, 
torn.  i.  p.  364. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

COASTING  OF  THE  SOUTHERN  SIDE  OF  CUBA. 
[I494-] 

ANIMATED  by  one  of  the  pleasing  illusions  of 
his  ardent  imagination,  Columbus  pursued  his 
voyage,  with  a  prosperous  breeze,  along  the  sup- 
posed continent  of  Asia.  He  was  now  opposite 
that  part  of  the  southern  side  of  Cuba,  where,  for 
nearly  thirty-five  leagues,  the  navigation  is  unem- 
barrassed by  banks  and  islands.  To  his  left  was 
the  broad  and  open  sea,  the  dark  blue  color  of 
which  gave  token  of  ample  depth  ;  to  his  right 
extended  the  richly-wooded  province  of  Ornofay, 
gra'dually  sweeping  up  into  a  range  of  interior 
mountains  ;  the  verdant  coast  watered  by  innu- 
merable streams,  and  studded  with  Indian  vil- 
lages. The  appearance  of  the  ships  spread  won- 
der and  joy  along  the  sea-coast.  The  natives 
hailed  with  acclamations  the  arrival  of  these  won- 
derful beings  whose  fame  had  circulated  more  or 
less  throughout  the  island,  and  who  brought  with 
them  the  blessings  of  heaven.  They  came  off 
swimming,  or  in  their  canoes,  to  offer  the  fruits 
and  productions  of  the  land,  and  regarded  the 
white  men  almost  with  adoration.  After  the  usual 


Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  127. 


106 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


evening  shower,  when  the  breeze  blew  from  the 
shore  and  brought  off  the  sweetness  of  the  land, 
it  bore  with  it  also  the  distant  songs  of  the  natives 
and  the  sound  of  their  rude  music,  as  they  were 
probably  celebrating,  with  their  national  chants 
and  dances,  the  arrival  of  the  white  men.  So  de- 
lightful were  these  spicy  odors  and  cheerful  sounds 
to  Columbus,  who  was  at  present  open  to  all  pleas- 
urable influences,  that  he  declared  the  night 
passed  away  as  a  single  hour.* 

It  is  impossible  to  resist  noticing  the  striking 
contrasts  which  are  sometimes  presented  by  the 
lapse  of  time.  The  coast  here  described,  so  popu- 
lous and  animated,  rejoicing  in  the  visit  of  the 
discoverers,  is  the  same  that  extends  westward  of 
the  city  of  Trinidad,  along  the  Gulf  of  Xagua. 
All  is  now  silent  and  deserted  :  civilization,  which 
has  covered  some  parts  of  Cuba  with  glittering 
cities,  has  rendered  this  a  solitude.  The  whole 
race  of  Indians  has  long  since  passed  away,  pining 
and  perishing  beneath  the  domination  of  the  stran- 
gers whom  they  welcomed  so  joyfully  to  their 
shores.  Before  me  lies  the  account  of  a  night  re- 
cently passed  on  this  very  coast,  by  a  celebrated 
traveller  ;  but  with  what  different  feelings  from 
those  of  Columbus  !  "  I  passed,"  says  he,  "  a 
great  part  of  the  night  upon  the  deck.  What  de- 
serted coasts  !  not  a  light  to  announce  the  cabin 
of  a  fisherman.  From  Batabano  to  Trinidad,  a 
distance  of  fifty  leagues,  there  does  not  exist  a  vil- 
lage. Yet  in  the  time  of  Columbus  this  land  was 
inhabited  even  along  the  margin  of  the  sea.  When 
pits  are  digged  in  the  soil,  or  the  torrents  plough 
open  the  surface  of  the  earth,  there  are  often  found 
hatchets  of  stone  and  vessels  of  copper,  relics  of 
the  ancient  inhabitants  of  the  island."  f 

For  the  greater  part  of  two  days  the  ships  swept 
along  this  open  part  of  the  coast,  traversing  the 
wide  Gulf  of  Xagua.  At  length  they  came  to 
where  the  sea  became  suddenly  as  white  as  milk, 
and  perfectly  turbid,  as  though  flour  had  been 
mingled  with  it.  This  is  caused  by  fine  sand,  or 
calcareous  particles,  raised  from  the  bottom  at 
certain  depths  by  the  agitation  of  the  waves  and 
currents.  It  spread  great  alarm  through  the 
ships,  which  was  heightened  by  their  soon  finding 
themselves  surrounded  by  banks  and  keys,  and  in 
shallow  water.  The  farther  they  proceeded,  the 
more  perilous  became  their  situation.  They  were 
in  a  narrow  cftannel,  where  they  had  no  room  to 
turn,  and  to  beat  out  ;  where  there  was  no  hold 
for  their  anchors,  and  where  they  were  violently 
tossed  about  by  the  winds,  and  in  danger  of  being 
stranded.  At  length  they  came  to  a  small  island, 
where  they  found  tolerable  anchorage.  Here  they 
remained  for  the  night  in  great  anxiety  ;  many 
were  for  abandoning  all  further  prosecution  of  the 
enterprise,  thinking  that  they  might  esteem  them- 
selves fortunate  should  they  be  able  to  return  from 
whence  they  came.  Columbus,  however,  could 
not  consent  to  relinquish  his  voyage,  now  that  he 
thought  himself  in  the  route  for  a  brilliant  dis- 
covery. The  next  morning  he  dispatched  the 
smallest  caravel  to  explore  this  new  labyrinth  of 
islands,  and  to  penetrate  to  the  main-land  in  quest 
of  fresh  water,  of  which  the  ships  were  in  great 
need.  The  caravel  returned  with  a  report  that 
the  canals  and  keys  of  this  group  were  as  numer- 
ous and  intricate  as  those  of  the  Gardens  of  the 
Queen  ;  that  the  main-land  was  bordered  by  deep 
marshes  and  a  muddy  coast,  where  the  mangrove 
trees  grew  within  the  water,  and  so  close  together 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios. 

f  Humboldt,  Essai  Pol.  sur  Cuba,  torn.  ii.  p.  25. 


that  they  formed,  as  it  were,  an  impenetrable  wall ; 
that  within,  the  land  appeared  fertile  and  moun- 
tainous ;  and  columns  of  smoke,  rising  from  vari- 
ous parts,  gave  signs  of  numerous  inhabitants.* 
Under  the  guidance  of  this  caravel,  Columbus  now 
ventured  to  penetrate  this  little  archipelago  ; 
working  his  way  with  great  caution,  toil,  and 
peril,  among  the  narrow  channels  which  separated  '• 
the  sand-banks  and  islands,  and  frequently  getting 
aground.  At  length  he  reached  a  low  point  of 
Cuba,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Point  Sera- 
fin  ;  within  which  the  coast  swept  off  to  the  east, 
forming  so  deep  a  bay  that  he  could  not  see  the 
land  at  the  bottom.  To  the  north,  however,  there 
were  mountains  afar  off,  and  the  intermediate 
space  was  clear  and  open  ;  the  islands  in  sight 
lying  to  the  south  and  west  ;  a  description  which 
agrees  with  that  of  the  great  Bay  of  Batabano. 
Columbus  now  steered  for  these  mountains,  with 
a  fair  wind  and  three  fathoms  of  water  and  on  the 
following  day  anchored  on  the  coast  near  a  beauti- 
ful grove  of  palm-trees. 

Here  a  party  was  sent  on  shore  for  wood  and 
water  ;  and  they  found  two  living  springs  in  the 
midst  of  the  grove.  While  they  were  employed  in 
cutting  wood  and  filling  their  water-casks,  an 
archer  strayed  into  the  forest  with  his  cross-bow 
in  search  of  game,  but  soon  returned,  flying  with 
great  terror,  and  calling  loudly  upon  his  compan- 
ions for  aid.  He  declared  that  he  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far,  when  he  suddenly  espied,  through  an 
opening  glade,  a  man  in  a  long  white  dress,  so  like  a 
friar  of  the  order  of  St.  Mary  of  Mercy,  that  at  first 
sight  he  took  him  for  the  chaplain  of  the  admiral. 
Two  others  followed  in  white  tunics  reaching  to 
their  knees,  and  the  three  were  of  as  fair  com- 
plexions as  Europeans.  Behind  these  appeared 
many  more,  to  the  number  of  thirty,  armed  with 
clubs  and  lances.  They  made  no  signs  of  hostility, 
but  remained  quiet,  the  man  in  the  long  white 
dress  alone  advancing  to  accost  him  ;  but  he  was 
so  alarmed  at  their  number  that  he  had  fled  in- 
stantly to  seek  the  aid  of  his  companions.  The 
latter,  however,  were  so  daunted  by  the  reported 
number  of  armed  natives,  that  they  had  not  cour- 
age to  seek  them  nor  to  wait  their  coming,  but 
hurried  with  all  speed  to  the  ships. 

When  Columbus  heard  this  story  he  was  greatly 
rejoiced,  for  he  concluded  that  these  must  be  the 
clothed  inhabitants  of  Mangon,  of  whom  he  had 
recently  heard,  and  that  he  had  at  length  arrived 
at  the  confines  of  a  civilized  country,  if  not  within 
the  very  borders  of  the  rich  province  of  Mangi. 
On  the  following  day  he  dispatched  a  party  of 
armed  men  in  quest  of  these  people  clad  in  white, 
with  orders  to  penetrate,  if  necessary,  forty  miles 
into  the  interior,  until  they  met  with  some  of  the 
inhabitants  ;  for  he  thought  the  populous  and  cul- 
tivated parts  might  be  distant  from  the  sea,  and 
that  there  might  be  towns  and  cities  beyond  the 
woods  and  mountains  of  the  coast.  The  party 
penetrated  through  a  belt  of  thick  forests  which 
girdled  the  shore,  and  then  entered  upon  a  great 
plain  or  savanna,  covered  with  rank  grass  and 
herbage  as  tall  as  ripe  corn,  and  destitute  of  any 
road  or  footpath.  Here  they  were  so  entangled 
and  fettered,  as  it  were,  by  matted  grass  and 
creeping  vegetation,  that  it  was  with  the  utmost 
.difficulty  they  could  penetrate  the  distance  of  a 
mile,  when  they  had  to  abandon  the  attempt,  and 
return  weary  and  exhausted  to  the  ships. 

Another  party  was  sent  on  the  succeeding  day 
to  penetrate  in  a  different  direction.  They  had 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  128. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS, 


107 


not  proceeded  far  from  the  coast,  when  they  be- 
held the  foot-prints  of  some  large  animal  with 
claws,  which  some  supposed  the  tracks  of  a  lion, 
others  of  a  griffon,*  but  which  were  probably 
made  by  the  alligators  which  abound  in  that 
vicinity.  Dismayed  at  the  sight,  they  hastened 
back  toward  the  sea-side.  In  their  way  they 
passed  through  a  forest,  with  lawns  and  meadows 
opening  in  various  parts  of  it,  in  which  were 
flocks  of  cranes,  twice  the  size  of  those  of  Europe. 
Many  of  the  trees  and  shrubs  sent  forth  those  aro- 
matic odors  which  were  continually  deceiving 
them  with  the  hope  of  finding  Oriental  spices. 
They  saw  also  abundance  of  grape-vines,  that 
beautiful  feature  in  the  vegetation  of  the  New 
World.  Many  of  these  crept  to  the  summits  of 
the  highest  trees,  overwhelming  them  with  foli- 
age, twisting  themselves  from  branch  to  branch, 
and  bearing  ponderous  clusters  of  juicy  grapes. 
The  party  returned  to  the  ships  equally  unsuccess- 
ful with  their  predecessors,  and  pronounced  the 
country  wild  and  impenetrable,  though  exceeding- 
ly fertile.  As  a  proof  of  its  abundance,  they 
brought  great  clusters  of  the  wild  grapes,  which 
Columbus  afterward  transmitted  to  the  sovereigns, 
together  with  a  specimen  of  the  water  of  the  White 
Sea  through  which  he  had  passed. 

As  no  tribe  of  Indians  was  ever  discovered  in 
Cuba  wearing  clothing,  it  is  probable  that  the 
story  of  the  men  in  white  originated  in  some  error 
of  the  archer,  who,  full  of  the  idea  of  the  myste- 
rious inhabitants  of  Mangon,  may  have  been 
startled  in  the  course  of  his  lonely  wandering  in 
the  forest,  by  one  of  those  flocks  of  cranes  which 
it  seems  abounded  in  the  neighborhood.  These 
birds,  like  the  flamingoes,  feed  in  company,  with 
one  stationed  at  a  distance  as  sentinel.  When 
seen  through  the  openings  of  the  woodlands, 
standing  in  rows  along  a  smooth  savanna,  or  in  a 
glassy  pool  of  water,  their  height  and  erectness 
give  them,  at  the  first  glance,  the  semblance  of 
human  figures.  Whether  the  story  originated  in 
error  or  in  falsehood,  it  made  a  deep  impression  on 
the  mind  of  Columbus,  who  was  predisposed  to  be 
deceived,  and  to  believe  everything  that  favored 
the  illusion  of  his  being  in  the  vicinity  of  a  civil- 
ized country. 

After  he  had  explored  the  deep  bay  to  the  east, 
and  ascertained  that  it  was  not  an  arm  of  the  sea, 
he  continued  westward,  and  proceeding  about  nine 
leagues  came  to  an  inhabited  shore,  where  he  had 
communications  with  several  of  the  natives. 
They  were  naked  as  usual  ;  but  that  he  attributed 
to  their  being  mere  fishermen  inhabiting  a  savage 
coast  ;  he  presumed  the  civilized  regions  to  lie  in 
the  interior.  As  his  Lucayan  interpreter  did  not 
understand  the  language,  or  rather  dialect,  of  this 
part  of  Cuba,  all  the  information  which  he  could 
obtain  from  the  natives  was  necessarily  received 
through  the  erroneous  medium  of  signs  and  ges- 
ticulations. Deluded  by  his  own  favorite  hypothe- 
sis, he  understood  from  them  that,  among  certain 
mountains  which  he  saw  far  off  to  the  west,  there 
was  a  powerful  king,  who  reigned  in  great  state 


*  Cardinal  Pierre  de  Aliaco,  a  favorite  author  with 
Columbus,  speaks  repeatedly,  in  his  Imago  Mundi, 
of  the  existence  of  griffons  in  India  ;  and  Glanville, 
whose  work,  De  Proprietatibus  Rerum,  was  familiar 
to  Columbus,  describes  them  as  having  the  body  and 
claws  of  a  lion,  and  the  head  and  wings  of  an  eagle, 
and  as  infesting  the  mountains  which  abounded  with 
gold  and  precious  stones,  so  as  to  render  the  access 
to  them  extremely  perilous. — De  Proprietat.  Rerum, 
lib.  xviii.  cap.  150. 


over  many  populous  provinces  ;  that  he  wore  a 
white  garment  which  swept  the  ground  ;  that  he 
was  called  a  saint  ;*  that  he  never  spoke,  but  com- 
municated his  orders  to  his  subjects  by  signs, 
which  were  implicitly  obeyed. f  In  all  this  we  see 
the  busy  imagination  of  the  admiral  interpreting 
everything  into  unison  with  his  preconceived 
ideas.  Las  Casas  assures  us  that  there  was  no 
cacique  ever  known  in  the  island  who  wore  gar- 
ments, or  answered  in  other  respects  to  this  de- 
scription. This  king,  with  a  saintly  title,  was  prob- 
ably nothing  more  than  a  reflected  image  haunting 
the  mind  of  Columbus,  of  that  mysterious  poten- 
tate, Prester  John,  who  had  long  figured  in  the 
narrations  of  alt  eastern  travellers,  sometimes-as 
a  monarch,  sometimes  as  a  priest,  the  situation  of 
whose  empire  and  court  was  always  a  matter  of 
doubt  and  contradiction,  and  had  recently  become 
again  an  object  of  curious  inquiry. 

The  information  derived  from  these  people  con- 
cerning the  coast  to  the  westward  was  entirely  va- 
gue. They  said  that  it  continued  for  at  least  twenty 
days'  journey,  but  whether  it  terminated  there  they 
did  not  know.  They  appeared  but  little  informed  of 
anything  out  of  their  immediate  neighborhood. 
Taking  an  Indian  from  this  place  as  a  guide,  Co- 
lumbus steered  for  the  distant  mountains  said  to 
be  inhabited  by  this  cacique  in  white  raiment, 
hoping  they  might  prove  the  confines  of  a  more 
civilized  country.  He  had  not  gone  far  before  he 
was  involved  in  the  usual  perplexities  of  keys, 
shelves,  and  sand-banks.  The  vessels  frequently 
stirred  up  the  sand  and  slime  from  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  ;  at  other  times  they  were  almost  imbed- 
ded in  narrow  channels,  where  there  was  no  room 
to  tack,  and  it  was  necessary  to  haul  them  for- 
ward by  means  of  the  capstan,  to  their  great  in- 
jury. At  one  time  they  came  to  where  the  sea 
was  almost  covered  with  tortoises  ;  at  another 
time  flights  of  cormorants  and  wood-pigeons  dark- 
ened the  sun,  and  one  day  the  whole  air  was  filled 
with  clouds  of  gaudy  butterflies,  until  dispelled  by 
the  evening  shower. 

When  they  approached  the  mountainous  regions, 
they  found  the  coast  bordered  by  drowned  lands  or 
morasses,  and  beset  by  such  thick  forests  that  it 
was  impossible  to  penetrate  to  the  interior.  They 
were  several  days  seeking  fresh  water,  of  which 
they  were  in  great  want.  At  length  they  found  a 
spring  in  a  grove  of  palm-trees,  and  near  it  shells 
of  the  pearl  oyster,  from  which  Columbus  thought 
there  might  be  a  valuable  pearl-fishery  in  the 
neighborhood. 

While  thus  cut  off  from  all  intercourse  with  the 
interior  by  a  belt  of  swamp  and  forests,  the  coun- 
try appeared  to  be  well  peopled.  Columns  of 
smoke  ascended  from  various  parts,  which  grew 
more  frequent  as  the  vessels  advanced,  until  they 
rose  from  every  rock  and  woody  height.  The 
Spaniards  were  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether 
these  arose  from  villages  and  towns,  or  whether 
from  signal  fires,  to  give  notice  of  the  approach 
of  the  ships,  and  to  alarm  the  country,  such  as 
were  usual  on  European  sea-shores,  when  an  en- 
emy was  descried  hovering  in  the  vicinity. 

For  several  days  Columbus  continued  exploring 
this  perplexed  and  lonely  coast,  whose  intricate 
channels  are  seldom  visited,  even  at  the  present 
day,  excepting  by  the  solitary  and  lurking  bark  of 
the  smuggler.  As  he  proceeded,  however,  he 


*  Que  le  Llamaban  santo  e  que  traia  tunica  blanca 
que  le  arastra  por  el  suelo. — Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap. 
128. 

f  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  dec.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  14. 


108 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


found  that  the  coast  took  a  general  bend  to  the 
south-west.  This  accorded  precisely  with  the  de- 
scriptions given  by  Marco  Polo  of  the  remote  coast 
of  Asia.  He  now  became  fully  assured  that  he 
was  on  that  part  of  the  Asiatic  continent  which  is 
beyond  the  boundaries  of  the  Old  World  as  laid 
down  by  Ptolemy.  Let  him  but  continue  this  coast, 
he  thought,  and  he  must  surely  arrive  to  the  point 
where  this  range  of  coast  terminated  in  the  Au- 
rea  Chersonesus  of  the  ancients.* 

The  ardent  imagination  of  Columbus  was  al- 
ways sallying  in  the  advance,  and  suggesting 
some  splendid  track  of  enterprise.  Combining 
his  present  conjectures  as  to  his  situation  with  the 
imperfect  lights  of  geography,  he  conceived  a  tri- 
umphant route  for  his  return  to  Spain.  Doubling 
the  Aurea  Chersonesus,  he  should  emerge  into  the 
Seas  frequented  by  the  ancients,  and  bordered  by 
the  luxurious  nations  of  the  East.  Stretching 
across  the  Gulf  of  the  Ganges,  he  might  pass  by 
Taprobana,  and  continuing  on  to  the  straits  of 
Babelmandel,  arrive  on  the  shores  of  the  Red  Sea. 
Thence  he  might  make  his  way  by  land  to  Jerusa- 
lem, take  shipping  at  Joppa,  and  traverse  the 
Mediterranean  to  Spain.  Or  should  the  route  from 
Ethiopia  to  Jerusalem  be  deemed  too  perilous 
from  savage  and  warlike  tribes,  or  should  he  not 
choose  to  separate  from  his  vessels,  he  might  sail 
round  the  whole  coast  of  Africa,  pass  triumphantly 
by  the  Portuguese,  in  their  midway  groping  along 
the  shores  of  Guinea,  and  after  having  thus  cir- 
cumnavigated the  globe,  furl  his  adventurous  sails 
at  the  Pillars  of  Hercules,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  the 
ancient  world  !  Such  was  the  soaring  meditation 
of  Columbus,  as  recorded  by  one  of  his  intimate 
I  associates  ;  f  nor  is  there  anything  surprising  in 
his  ignorance  of  the  real  magnitude  of  our  globe. 
The  mechanical  admeasurement  of  a  known  part 
of  its  circle  has  rendered  its  circumference  a  fa- 
miliar fact  in  our  day  ;  but  in  his  time  it  still  re- 
mained a  problem  with  the  most  profound  philos- 
ophers. 


CHAPTER  V. 

RETURN  OF  COLUMBUS  ALONG  THE  SOUTHERN 
COAST  OF  CUBA. 

[I494-] 

THE  opinion  of  Columbus,  that  he  was  coasting 
the  continent  of  Asia,  and  approaching  the  con- 
fines of  eastern  civilization,  was  shared  by  all  his 
fellow-voyagers,  among  whom  were  several  able 
and  experienced  navigators.  They  were  far,  how- 
ever, from  sharing  his  enthusiasm.  They  were  to 
derive  no  glory  from  the  success  of  the  enterprise, 
and  they  shrunk  from  its  increasing  difficulties  and 
perils.  The  ships  were  strained  and  crazed  by  the 
various  injuries  they  had  received,  in  running  fre- 
quently aground.  Their  cables  and  rigging  were 
worn,  their  provisions  were  growing  scanty,  a 
great  part  of  the  biscuit  was  spoiled  by  the  sea- 
water,  which  oozed  in  through  innumerable  leaks. 
The  crews  were  worn  out  by  incessant  labor,  and 
disheartened  at  the  appearance  of  the  sea  before 
them,  which  continued  to  exhibit  a  mere  wilder- 
ness of  islands.  They  remonstrated,  therefore, 
against  persisting  any  longer  in  this  voyage. 
They  had  already  followed  the  coast  far  enough  to 
satisfy  their  minds  that  it  was  a  continent,  and 


*  The  present  peninsula  of  Malacca, 
f  (Jura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  123,  MS. 


though  they  doubted  not  that  civilized  regions  lay 
in  the  route  they  were  pursuing,  yet  their  provi- 
sions might  be  exhausted,  and  their  vessels  dis- 
abled, before  they  could  arrive  at  them. 

Columbus,  as  his  imagination  cooled,  was  him- 
self aware  of  the  inadequacy  of  his  vessels  to  the 
contemplated  voyage  ;  but  felt  it  of  importance  to 
his  fame  and  to  the  popularity  of  his  enterprises, 
to  furnish  satisfactory  proofs  that  the  land  he  had 
discovered  was  a  continent.  He  therefore  persist- 
ed four  days  longer  in  exploring  the  coast,  as  it 
bent  to  the  south-west,  until  every  one  declared 
there  could  no  longer  be  a  doubt  on  the  subject, 
for  it  was  impossible  so  vast  a  continuity  of  land 
should  belong  to  a  mere  island.  The  admiral 
was  determined,  however,  that  the  fact  should  not 
rest  on  his  own  assertion  merely,  having  had  re- 
cent proofs  of  a  disposition  to  gainsay  his  state- 
ments, and  depreciate  his  discoveries.  He  sent 
round,  therefore,  a  public  notary,  Fernand  Perez  de 
Luna,  to  each  of  the  vessels,  accompanied  by  four 
witnesses,  who  demanded  formally  of  every  person 
on  board,  from  the  captain  to  the  ship-boy,  whether 
he  had  any  doubt  that  the  land  before  him  was  a 
continent,  the  beginning  and  end  of  the  Indies,  by 
which  any  one  might  return  overland  to  Spain, 
and  by  pursuing  the  coast  of  which,  they  could 
soon  arrive  among  civilized  people.  If  any  one 
entertained  a  -doubt,  he  was  called  upon  to  ex- 
press it,  that  it  might  be  removed.  On  board  of 
the  vessels,  as  has  been  observed,  were  several 
experienced  navigators  and  men  well  versed  in  the 
geographical  knowledge  of  the  times.  They  ex- 
amined their  maps  and  charts,  and  the  reckonings 
and  journals  of  the  voyage,  and  after  deliberating 
maturely,  declared,  under  oath,  that  they  had  no 
doubt  upon  the  subject.  They  grounded  their 
belief  principally  upon  their  having  coasted  for 
three  hundred  and  thirty-five  leagues,*  an  extent 
unheard  of  as  appertaining  to  an  island,  while 
the  land  continued  to  stretch  forward  intermina- 
bly, bending  toward  the  south,  conformably  to  the 
description  of  the  remote  coasts  of  India. 

Lest  they  should  subsequently,  out  of  malice  or 
caprice,  contradict  the  opinion  thus  solemnly  avow- 
ed, it  was  proclaimed  by  the  notary,  that  whoever 
should  offend  in  such  manner,  if  an  officer,  should 
pay  a  penalty  of  ten  thousand  maravedies  ;  if  a  ship- 
boy  or  person  of  like  rank,  he  should  receive  a  hun- 
dred lashes,  and  have  his  tongue  cut  out.  A 
formal  statement  was  afterward  drawn  up  by  the 
notary,  including  the  depositions  and  names  of 
every  individual  ;  which  document  still  exists. f 
This  singular  process  took  place  near  that  deep 
bay  called  by  some  the  Bay  of  Philipina,  by  others 
of  Cortes.  At  this  very  time,  as  has  been  remark- 
ed, a  ship-boy  from  the  masthead  might  have 
overlooked  the  group  of  islands  to  the  south,  and 
beheld  the  open  sea  beyond.  \  Two  or  three  days' 
further  sail  would  have  carried  Columbus  round 
the  extremity  of  Cuba  ;  would  have  dispelled  his 
illusion,  and  might  have  given  an  entirely  differ- 
ent course  to  his  subsequent  discoveries.  In  his 
present  conviction  he  lived  and  died  ;  believing, 
to  his  last  hour,  that  Cuba  was  the  extremity  of  the 
Asiatic  continent. 

Relinquishing    all  further  investigation  of  the 


*  This  calculation  evidently  includes  all  the  courses 
of  the  ships  in  their  various  tacks  along  the  coast. 
Columbus  could  hardly  have  made  such  an  error  as 
to  have  given  this  extent  to  the  southern  side  of  the 
island,  even  including  the  inflections  of  the  coast. 

f  Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  ii. 

|  Muftoz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  v.  p.  217. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


109 


coast,  he  stood  to  the  south-east  on  the  I3th  of 
June,  and  soon  came  in  sight  of  a  large  island 
with  mountains  rising  majestically  among  this 
labyrinth  of  little  keys.  To  this  he  gave  the  name 
of  Evangelista.  It  is  at  present  known  as  the  Island 
of  Pines,  and  is  celebrated  for  its  excellent  ma- 
hogany. 

Here  he  anchored,  and  took  in  a  supply  of  wood 
and  water.  He  then  stood  to  the  south,  along  the 
shores  of  the  island,  hoping  by  turning  its  south- 
ern extremity  to  find  an  open  route  eastward  for 
Hispaniola,  and  intending,  on  his  way,  to  run 
along  the  southern  side  of  Jamaica.  He  had  not 
proceeded  far  before  he  came  to  what  he  supposed 
to  be  a  channel,  opening  to  the  south-east  between 
Evangelista  and  some  opposite  island.  After  en- 
tering for  some  distance,  however,  he  found  him- 
self inclosed  in  a  deep  bay,  being  the  Lagoon  of 
Siguanca,  which  penetrates  far  into  the  island. 

Observing  dismay  painted  on  the  faces  of  his 
crew  at  finding  themselves  thus  land-locked  and 
almost  destitute  of  provisions,  Columbus  cheered 
them  with  encouraging  words,  and  resolved  to  ex- 
tricate himself  from  this  perplexing  maze  by 
retracing  his  course  along  Cuba.  Leaving  the 
lagoon,  therefore,  he  returned  to  his  last  anchor- 
ing place,  and  set  sail  thence  on  the  25th  of  June, 
navigating  back  through  the  groups  of  islands  be- 
tween Evangelista  and  Cuba,  and  across  a  tract  of 
the  White  Sea,  which  had  so  much  appalled  his 
people.  Here  he  experienced  a  repetition  of  the 
anxieties,  perils,  and  toils  which  had  beset  him  in 
his  advance  along  the  coast.  The  crews  were 
alarmed  by  the  frequent  changes  in  the  color  of 
the  water,  sometimes  green,  sometimes  almost 
black,  at  other  times  as  white  as  milk;  at  one 
time  they  fancied  themselves  surrounded  by  rocks, 
at  another  the  sea  appeared  to  be  a  vast  sand- 
bank. On  the  30th  of  June  the  admiral's  ship  ran 
aground  with  such  violence  as  to  sustain  great  in- 
jury. Every  effort  to  extricate  her  by  sending  out 
anchors  astern  was  ineffectual,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  drag  her  over  the  shoal  by  the  prow.  At 
length  they  emerged  from  the  clusters  of  islands 
called  the  Jarclins  and  Jardinelles,  and  came  to 
the  open  part  of  the  coast  of  Cuba.  Here  they 
once  more  sailed  along  the  beautiful  and  fertile 
province  of  Ornofay,  and  were  again  delighted 
with  fragrant  and  honeyed  airs  wafted  from  the 
land.  Among  the  mingled  odors,  the  admiral 
fancied  he  could  perceive  that  of  storax  proceed- 
ing from  the  smoke  of  fires  blazing  on  the  shores.* 

Here  Columbus  sought  some  convenient  harbor 
where  he  might  procure  wood  and  water,  and  al- 
low his  crews  to  enjoy  repose  and  the  recreations 
of  the  land  ;  for  they  were  exceedingly  enfeebled 
and  emaciated  by  the  toils  and  privations  of  the 
voyage.  For  nearly  two  months  they  had  been 
struggling  with  perpetual  difficulties  and  dangers, 
and  suffering  from  a  scarcity  of  provisions. 
Among  these  uninhabited  keys  and  drowned 
shores,  their  supplies  from  the  natives  had  been 
precarious  and  at  wide  intervals  ;  nor  could  the 
fresh  provisions  thus  furnished  last  above  a  day, 
from  the  heat  and  humidity  of  the  climate.  It  was 
the  same  case  with  any  fish  they  might  chance  to 
catch,  so  that  they  had  to  depend  almost  entirely 
upon  their  daily  allowance  of  ships'  provisions, 
which  was  reduced  to  a  pound  of  mouldy  bread 
and  a  small  portion  of  wine.  With  joy,  therefore, 


*  Humboldt  (in  his  Essai  Polit.,  torn.  ii.  p.  24) 
speaks  of  the  fragrance  of  flowers  and  honey  which 
exhales  from  this  same  coast,  and  which  is  perceptible 
to  a  considerable  distance  at  sea. 


they  anchored  on  the  7th  of  July  in  the  mouth  of  a 
fine  river,  in  this  genial  and  abundant  region. 
The  cacique  of  the  neighborhood,  who  reigned 
over  an  extensive  territory,  received  the  admiral 
with  demonstrations  of  mingled  joy  and  rever- 
ence, and  his  subjects  came  laden  with  whatever 
their  country  afforded — utias,  birds  of  various 
kinds,  particularly  large  pigeons,  cassava  bread, 
and  fruits  of  a  rich  and  aromatic  flavor. 

It  was  a  custom  with  Columbus,  in  all  remark- 
able places  which  he  visited,  to  erect  crosses  in 
conspicuous  situations,  to  denote  the  discovery  of 
the  country,  and  its  subjugation  to  the  true  faith. 
He  ordered  a  large  cross  of  wood,  therefore,  to 
be  elevated  on  the  bank  of  this  river.  This  was 
done  on  a  Sunday  morning  with  great  ceremony, 
and  the  celebration  of  a  solemn  mass.  When  he 
disembarked  for  this  purpose,  he  was  met  upon 
the  shore  by  the  cacique  and  his  principal  favorite, 
a  venerable  Indian,  fourscore  years  of  age,  of 
grave  and  dignified  'deportment.  The  old  man 
brought  a  string  of  beads,  of  a  kind  to  which  the 
Indians  attached  a  mystic  value,  and  a  calabash 
of  a  delicate  kind  of  fruit  ;  these  he  presented  to  the 
admiral  in  token  of  amity.  He  and  the  cacique 
then  each  took  him  by  the  hand  and  proceeded 
with  him  to  the  grove,  where  preparations  had 
been  made  for  the  celebration  of  the  mass  ;  a 
multitude  of  the  natives  followed.  While  mass 
was  performing  in  this  natural  temple,  the  Indians 
looked  on  with  awe  and  reverence,  perceiving 
from  the  tones  and  gesticulations  of  the  priest,  the 
lighted  tapers,  the  smoking  incense,  and  the  de- 
votion of  the  Spaniards,  that  it  must  be  a  cere- 
mony of  a  sacred  and  mysterious  nature.  When 
the  service  was  ended,  the  old  man  of  fourscore, 
who  had  contemplated  it  with  profound  attention, 
approached  Columbus,  and  made  him  an  oration 
in  the  Indian  manner. 

"This  which  thou  hast  been  doing,"  said  he, 
"  is  well,  for  it  appears  to  be  thy  manner  of  giving 
thanks  to  God.  I  am  told  that  thou  hast  lately 
come  to  these  lands  with  a  mighty  force,  and 
subdued  many  countries,  spreading  great  fear 
among  the  people  ;  but  be  not,  therefore,  vain- 
glorious. Know  that,  according  to  our  belief,  the 
souls  of  men  have  two  journeys  to  perform  after 
they  have  departed  from  the  body.  One  to  a 
place,  dismal,  and  foul,  and  covered  with  dark- 
ness, prepared  for  those  who  have  been  unjust 
and  cruel  to  their  fellow-men  ;  the  other  pleasant 
and  full  of  delight,  for  such  as  have  promoted 
peace  on  earth.  If,  then,  thou  art  mortal  and  dost 
expect  to  die,  and  dost  believe  that  each  one  shall 
be  rewarded  according  to  his  deeds,  beware  that 
thou  wrongfully  hurt  no  man,  nor  do  harm  to 
those  who  have  done  no  harm  to  thee."  *  The 
admiral,  to  whom  this  speech  was  explained  by 
his  Lucayan  interpreter,  Diego  Colon,  was  greatly 
moved  by  the  simple  eloquence  of  this  untutored 
savage.  He  told  him  in  reply  that  he  rejoiced  to 
hear  his  doctrine  respecting  the  future  state  of  the 
soul,  having  supposed  that  no  belief  of  the  kind 
existed  among  the  inhabitants  of  these  countries. 
That  he  had  been  sent  among  them  by  his  sover- 
eigns, to  teach  them  the  true  religion  ;  to  protect 
them  from  harm  and  injury  ;  and  especially  to 
subdue  and  punish  their  enemies  and  persecutors, 
the  cannibals.  That,  therefore,  all  innocent  and 
peaceable  men  might  look  up  to  him  with  confi- 
dence, as  an  assured  friend  and  protector. 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  xi.  cap.  14.  Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  57.  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii. 
Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  130. 


110 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


The  old  man  was  overjoyed  at  these  words,  but 
was  equally  astonished  to  learn  that  the  admiral, 
whom  he  considered  so  great  and  powerful,  was 
yet  but  a  subject.  His  wonder  increased  when 
the  interpreter  told  him  of  the  riches,  and  splen- 
dor, and  power  of  the  Spanish  monarchs,  and  of 
the  wonderful  things  he  had  beheld  on  his  visit  to 
Spain.  Finding  himself  listened  to  with  eager 
curiosity  by  the  multitude,  the  interpreter  went  on 
to  describe  the  objects  which  had  most  struck  his 
mind  in  the  country  of  the  white  men.  The  splen- 
did cities,  the  vast  churches,  the  troops  of  horse- 
men, the  great  animals  of  various  kinds,  the 
pompous  festivals  and  tournaments  of  the  court, 
the  glittering  armies,  and,  above  all,  the  bull- 
fights. The  Indians  all  listened  in  mute  amaze- 
ment, but  the  old  man  was  particularly  excited. 
He  was  of  a  curious  and  wandering  disposition, 
and  had  been  a  great  voyager,  having,  according 
to  his  account,  visited  Jamaica,  and  Hispaniola, 
and  the  remote  parts  of  Cuba.*  A  sudden  desire 
now  seized  him  to  behold  the  glorious  country 
thus  described,  and,  old  as  he  was,  he  offered  to 
embark  with  the  admiral.  His  wife  and  children, 
however,  beset  him  with  such  lamentations  and 
remonstrances,  that  he  was  obliged  to  abandon 
the  intention,  though  he  did  it  with  great  reluc- 
tance, asking  repeatedly  if  the  land  they  spoke  of 
were  not  heaven,  for  it  seemed  to  him  impossible 
that  earth  could  produce  such  wonderful  beings. f 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COASTING    VOYAGE    ALONG    THE   SOUTH  SIDE  OF 
JAMAICA. 


COLUMBUS  remained  for  several  days  at  anchor 
in  the  river,  to  which,  from  the  mass  performed 
on  its  banks,  he  gave  the  name  ot  Rio  de  la  Misa. 
At  length,  on  the  i6th  of  July,  he  took  leave  of  the 
friendly  cacique  and  his  ancient  counsellor,  who 
beheld  his  departure  with  sorrowful  countenances. 
He  took  a  young  Indian  with  him  from  this  place, 
whom  he  afterward  sent  to  the  Spanish  sover- 
eigns. Leaving  to  the  left  the  Queen's  Gardens, 
he  steered  south  for  the  broad  open  sea  and  deep 
blue  water,  until  having  a  free  navigation  he  could 
stand  eastward  for  Hispaniola.  He  had  scarcely 
got  clear  of  the  islands,  however,  when  he  was 
assailed  by  furious  gusts  of  wind  and  rain,  which 
for  two  days  pelted  his  crazy  vessels,  and  harassed 
his  enfeebled  crews.  At  length,  as  he  approached 
Cape  Cruz,  a  violent  squall  struck  the  ships,  and 
nearly  threw  them  on  their  beam  ends.  Fortu- 
nately they  were  able  to  take  in  sail  immediately, 
and,  letting  go  their  largest  anchors,  rode  out  the 
transient  gale.  The  admiral's  ship  was  so 
strained  by  the  injuries  received  among  the 
islands,  that  she  leaked  at  every  seam,  and  the  ut- 
most exertions  of  the  weary  crew  could  not  pre- 
vent the  water  from  gaining  on  her.  At  length 
they  were  enabled  to  reach  Cape  Cruz,  where  they 
anchored  on  the  i8th  of  July,  and  remained  three 
days,  receiving  the  same  hospitable  succor  from 
the  natives  that  they  had  experienced  on  their  for- 
mer visit.  The  wind  continuing  contrary  for  the 
return  to  Hispaniola,  Columbus,  on  the  22d  July, 
stood  across  for  Jamaica,  to  complete  the  circum- 
navigation of  that  island.  For  nearly  a  month 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  57. 
f  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii. 


he  continued  beating  to  the  eastward  along  its 
southern  coast,  experiencing  just  such  variable 
winds  and  evening  showers  as  had  prevailed  along 
the  shores  of  Cuba.  Every  evening  he  was 
obliged  to  anchor  under  the  land,  often  at  nearly 
the  same  place  whence  he  had  sailed  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  natives  no  longer  manifested  hostility, 
but  followed  the  ships  in  their  canoes,  bringing 
supplies  of  provisions.  Columbus  was  so  much 
delighted  with  the  verdure,  freshness,  and  fertility 
of  this  noble  island,  that,  had  the  state  of  his  ves- 
sels and  crews  permitted,  he  would  gladly  have 
remained  to  explore  the  interior.  He  spoke  with 
admiration  of  its  frequent  and  excellent  harbors, 
but  was  particularly  pleased  with  a  great  bay, 
containing  seven  islands,  and  surrounded  by  nu- 
merous villages.*  Anchoring  here  one  evening, 
he  was  visited  by  a  cacique  who  resided  in  a  large 
village,  situated  on  an  eminence  of  the  loftiest  and 
most  fertile  of  the  islands.  He  came  attended  by 
a  numerous  train,  bearing  refreshments,  and 
manifested  great  curiosity  in  his  inquiries  con- 
cerning the  Spaniards,  their  ships,  and  the  region 
whence  they  came.  The  admiral  made  his  cus- 
tomary reply,  setting  forth  the  great  power  and 
the  benign  intentions  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns. 
The  Lucayan  interpreter  again  enlarged  upon  the 
wonders  he  had  beheld  in  Spain,  the  prowess  of 
the  Spaniards,  the  countries  they  had  visited  and 
subjugated,  and,  above  all,  their  having  made  de- 
scents on  the  islands  of  the  Caribs,  routed  their 
formidable  inhabitants,  and  carried  several  of 
them  into  captivity.  To  these  accounts  the 
cacique  and  his  followers  remained  listening  in 
profound  attention  until  the  night  was  advanced. 

The  next  morning  the  ships  were  under  way  and 
standing  along  the  coast  with  a  light  wind  and 
easy  sail,  when  they  beheld  three  canoes  issuing 
from  among  the  islands  of  the  bay.  They  ap- 
proached in  regular  order  ;  one,  which  was  very 
large  and  handsomely  carved  and  painted,  was  in 
the  centre,  a  little  in  advance  of  the  two  others, 
which  appeared  to  attend  and  guard  it. 

In  this  was  seated  the  cacique  and  his  family, 
consisting  of  his  wife,  two  daughters,  two  sons, 
and  five  brothers.  One  of  the  daughters  was 
eighteen  years  of  age,  beautiful  in  form  and  coun- 
tenance ;  her  sister  was  somewhat  younger  ;  both 
were  naked,  according  to  the  custom  of  these 
islands,  but  were  of  modest  demeanor.  In  the 
prow  of  the  canoe  stood  the  standard-bearer  of 
the  cacique,  clad  in  a  mantle  ot  variegated 
feathers,  with  a  tuft  of  gay  plumes  on  his  head, 
and  bearing  in  his  hand  a  fluttering  white  banner. 
Two  Indians  with  caps  or  helmets  of  feathers  of 
uniform  shape  and  color,  and  their  faces  painted 
in  a  similar  manner,  beat  upon  tabors  ;  two 
others,  with  hats  curiously  wrought  of  green 
feathers,  held  trumpets  of  a  fine  black  wood,  in- 
geniously carved  ;  there  were  six  others,  in  large 
hats  of  white  feathers,  who  appeared  to  be  guards 
to  the  cacique. 

Having  arrived  alongside  of  the  admiral's  ship, 
the  cacique  entered  on  board  with  all  his  train. 
He  appeared  in  full  regalia.  Around  his  head 
was  a  band  of  small  stones  of  various  colors,  but 
principally  green,  symmetrically  arranged,  with 
large  white  stones  at  intervals,  and  connected  in 
front  by  a  large  jewel  of  gold.  Two  plates  of  gold 
were  suspended  to  his  ears  by  rings  of  very  small 
green  stones.  To  a  necklace  of  white  beads,  of  a 


*  From  the  description,  this  must  be  the  great  bay 
east  of  Portland  Point,  at  the  bottom  of  which  is  Old 
Harbor. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Ill 


kind  deemed  precious  by  them,  was  suspended  a 
large  plate,  in  the  form  of  a  fleur-de-lis,  of  guanin, 
an  inferior  species  of  gold  ;  and  a  girdle  of  varie- 
gated stones,  similar  to  those  round  his  head, 
completed  his  regal  decorations.  His  wife  was 
adorned  in  a  similar  manner,  having  also  a  very 
small  apron  of  cotton,  and  bands  of  the  same 
round  her  arms  and  legs.  The  daughters  were 
without  ornaments,  excepting  the  eldest  and  hand- 
somest, who  had  a  girdle  of  small  stones,  from 
which  was  suspended  a  tablet,  the  size  of  an  ivy 
leaf,  composed  of  various  colored  stones,  embroi- 
dered on  network  of  cotton. 

When  the  cacique  entered  on  board  the  ship, 
he  distributed  presents  of  the  productions  of  his 
island  among  the  officers  and  men.  The  admiral 
was  at  this  time  in  his  cabin,  engaged  in  his 
morning  devotions.  When  he  appeared  on  deck, 
the  chieftain  hastened  to  meet  him  with  an  ani- 
mated countenance.  "  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  determined  to  leave  my  country,  and  to  ac- 
company thee.  I  have  heard  from  these  Indians 
who  are  with  thee  of  the  irresistible  power  of  thy 
sovereigns,  and  of  the  many  nations  thou  hast 
subdued  in  their  name.  Whoever  refuses  obedi- 
ence to  thee  is  sure  to  suffer.  Thou  hast  destroyed 
the  canoes  and  dwellings  of  the  Caribs,  slaying 
their  warriors,  and  carrying  into  captivity  their 
wives  and  children.  All  the  islands  are  in  dread 
of  thee  ;  for  who  can  withstand  thee  now  that  thou 
knowest  the  secrets  of  the  land,  and  the  weakness 
ot  the  people.  Rather,  therefore,  than  thou 
shouldst  take  away  my  dominions,  I  will  embark 
with  all  my  household  in  thy  ships,  and  will  go  to 
do  homage  to  thy  king  and  queen,  and  to  behold 
their  country,  of  which  thy  Indians  relate  such 
wonders."  When  this  speech  was  explained  to 
Columbus,  and  he  beheld  the  wife,  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  the  cacique,  and  thought  upon  the 
snares  to  which  their  ignorance  and  simplicity 
would  be  exposed,  he  was  touched  with  compas- 
sion, and  determined  not  to  take  them  from  their 
native  land.  He  replied  to  the  cacique,  therefore, 
that  he  received  him  under  his  protection  as  a 
vassal  of  his  sovereigns,  but  having  many  lands 
yet  to  visit  before  he  returned  to  his  country,  he 
would  at  some  future  time  fulfil  his  desire.  Then 
taking  leave  with  many  expressions  of  amity,  the 
cacique,  with  his  wife  and  daughters,  and  all  his 
retinue,  re-embarked  in  the  canoes,  returning  re- 
luctantly to  their  island,  and  the  ships  continued 
on  their  course.* 


CHAPTER  VII. 

VOYAGE  ALONG  THE  SOUTH  SIDE  OF  HISPANIOLA, 
AND   RETURN  TO  ISABELLA. 

[I494-] 

ON  the  i gth  of  August  Columbus  lost  sight  of 
the  eastern  extremity  of  Jamaica,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Cape  Farol,  at  present  called 
Point  Morant.  Steering  eastward,  he  beheld,  on 
the  following  day,  that  long  peninsula  of  Hispan- 


*  Hitherto,  in  narrating  the  voyage  of  Columbus 
along  the  coast  of  Cuba,  I  have  been  guided  princi- 
pally by  the  manuscript  history  of  the  curate  de  los 
Palacios.  His  account  is  the  most  clear  arid  satisfac- 
tory as  to  names,  dates,  and  routes,  and  contains 
many  characteristic  particulars  not  inserted  in  any 
other  history.  His  sources  of  information  were  of  the 
highest  kind.  Columbus  was  his  guest  after  his  re- 
turn to  Spain  in  1496,  and  left  with  him  manuscripts, 


iola,  known  by  the  name  of  Cape  Tiburon,  but  to 
which  he  gave  the  name  of  Cape  San  Miguel.  HP 
was  not  aware  that  it  was  a  part  of  the  island  of 
Hayti,  until,  coasting  along  its  southern  side,  a 
cacique  came  off  on  the  23d  of  August,  and  called 
him  by  his  title,  addressing  him  with  several 
words  of  Castilian.  The  sound  of  these  words 
spread  joy  through  the  ship,  and  the  weary  sea- 
men heard  with  delight  that  they  were  on  the 
southern  coast  of  Hispaniola.  They  had  still, 
however,  many  toilsome  days  before  them.  The 
weather  was  boisterous,  the  wind  contrary  and 
capricious,  and  the  ships  were  separated  from 
each  other.  About  the  end  of  August  Columbus 
anchored  at  a  small  island,  or  rather  rock,  which 
rises  singly  out  of  the  sea  opposite  to  a  long  cape, 
stretching  southward  from  the  centre  of  the 
island,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Cape  Beata. 
The  rock  at  which  he  anchored  had  the  appear- 
ance, at  a  distance,  of  a  tall  ship  under  sail,  from 
which  circumstance  the  admiral  called  it  "  Alto 
Velo."  Several  seamen  were  ordered  to  climb  to 
the  top  of  the  island,  which  commanded  a  great 
extent  of  ocean,  and  to  look  out  for  the  other 
ships.  Nothing  of  them  was  to  be  seen.  On 
their  return  the  sailors  killed  eight  sea-wolves, 
which  were  sleeping  on  the  sands  ;  they  also 
knocked  down  many  pigeons  and  other  birds  with 
sticks,  and  took  others  with  the  hand  ;  for  in  this 
unfrequented  island,  the  animals  seemed  to  have 
none  of  that  wildness  and  timidity  produced  by 
the  hostility  of  man. 

Being  rejoined  by  the  two  caravels,  he  contin- 
ued along  the  coast,  passing  the  beautiful  country 
watered  by  the  branches  of  the  Neyva,  where  a 
fertile  plain,  covered  with  villages  and  groves, 
extended  into  the  interior.  After  proceeding 
•some  distance  farther  to  the  east,  the  admiral 
learnt  from  the  natives  who  came  off  to  the  ships 
that  several  Spaniards  from  the  settlement  had 
penetrated  to  their  province.  From  all  that  he 
could  learn  from  these  people,  everything  appear- 
ed to  be  going  on  well  in  the  island.  Encouraged 
by  the  tranquillity  of  the  interior,  he  landed  nine 
men  here,  with  orders  to  traverse  the  island,  and 
give  tidings  of  his  safe  arrival  on  the  coast. 

Continuing  to  the  eastward,  he  sent  a  boat  on 
shore  for  water  near  a  large  village  in  a  plain. 
The  inhabitants  issued  forth  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows to  give  battle,  while  others  were  provided 
with  cords  to  bind  prisoners.  These  were  the 
natives  of  Higuey,  the  eastern  province  of  Hispan- 
iola. They  were  the  most  warlike  people  of  the 
island,  having  been  inured  to  arms  from  the  fre- 
quent descent  of  the  Caribs.  They  were  said  also 
to  make  use  of  poisoned  arrows.  In  the  present 
instance,  their  hostility  was  but  in  appearance. 
When  the  crew  landed,  they  threw  by  their  weap- 
ons, and  brought  various  articles  of  food,  and 
asked  for  the  admiral,  whose  fame  had  spread 
throughout  the  island,  and  in  whose  justice  and 
magnanimity  all  appeared  to  repose  confidence. 
After  leaving  this  place,  the  weather,  which  had 
been  so  long  variable  and  adverse,  assumed  a 
threatening  appearance.  A  huge  fish,  as  large  as 


journals,  and  memorandums  ;  from  these  he  made 
extracts,  collating  them  with  the  letters  of  Doctor 
Chanca,  and  other  persons  of  note  who  had  accompa- 
nied the  admiral. 

I  have  examined  two  copies  of  the  MS.  of  the  curate 
de  los  Palacios,  both  in  the  possession  of  O.  Rich, 
Esq.  One  written  in  an  ancient  handwriting,  in  the 
early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  varies  from  the 
other,  but  only  in  a  few  trivial  particulars.  . 


112 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


a  moderate-sized  whale,  raised  itself  out  of  the 
water  one  day,  having  a  shell  on  its  neck  like  that 
of  a  tortoise,  two  great  fins  like  wings,  and  a  tail 
like  that  of  a  tunny  fish.  At  sight  of  this  fish  and 
at  the  indications  of  the  clouds  and  sky,  Colum- 
bus anticipated  an  approaching  storm,  and  sought 
for  some  secure  harbor.*  He  found  a  channel 
opening  between  Hispaniola  and  a  small  island, 
called  by  the  Indians  Adamaney,  but  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Saona  ;  here  he  took  refuge, 
anchoring  beside  a  key  or  islet  in  the  middle  of 
the  channel.  On  the  night  of  his  arrival  there  was 
an  eclipse  of  the  moon,  and  taking  an  observation, 
he  found  the  difference  of  longitude  between 
Saona  and  Cadiz  to  be  five  hours  and  twenty-three 
minutes. f  This  is  upward  of  eighteen  degrees 
more  than  the  true  longitude  ;  an  error  which 
must  have  resulted  from  the  incorrectness  of  his 
table  of  eclipses.J 

For  eight  days  the  admiral's  ship  remained 
weather-bound  in  this  channel,  during  which  time 
he  suffered  great  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  the  other 
vessels,  which  remained  at  sea,  exposed  to  the 
violence  of  the  storm.  They  escaped,  however, 
uninjured,  and  once  more  rejoined  him  when  the 
weather  had  moderated. 

Leaving  the  channel  of  Saona,  they  reached,  on 
the  24th  of  September,  the  eastern  extremity  of 
Hispaniola,  to  which  Columbus  gave  the  name  of 
Cape  San  Rafael,  at  present  known  as  Cape  Enga- 
fio.  Hence  they  stood  to  the  south-east,  touching 
at  the  island  of  Mona,  or,  as  the  Indians  called  it, 
Amona,  situated  between  Porto  Rico  and  Hispan- 
iola. It  was  the  intention  of  Columbus,  notwith- 
standing the  condition  of  the  ships,  to  continue 
farther  eastward,  and  to  complete  the  discovery  of 
the  Caribbee  Islands,  but  his  physical  strength  did 


*  Herrcra,  Hist.  Irid.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  15. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  59. 

f  Herrera,  ubi  sup.     Hist.  Almirante,  ubi  sup. 

i  Five  hours  twenty- five  minutes  are  equal  to  80° 
45  ;  whereas  the  true  longitude  of  Saona  is  62°  20' 
west  of  Cadiz. 


not  correspond  to  the  efforts  of  his  lofty  spirit.* 
The  extraordinary  fatigues,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  during  an  anxious  and  harassing  voyage  of 
five  months,  had  preyed  upon  his  frame.  He  had 
shared  in  all  the  hardships  and  privations  of  the 
commonest  seaman.  He  had  put  himself  upon  the 
same  scanty  allowance,  and  exposed  himself  to 
the  same  buffetingsof  wind  and  weather.  But  he 
had  other  cares  and  trials  from  which  his  people 
were  exempt.  When  the  sailor,  worn  out  with 
the  labors  of  his  watch,  slept  soundly  amid  the 
howling  of  the  storm,  the  anxious  commander 
maintained  his  painful  vigil,  through  long  sleep- 
less nights,  amid  the  pelting  of  the  tempest  and 
the  drenching  surges  of  the  sea.  The  safety  of 
his  ships  depended  upon  his  watchfulness  ;  but, 
above  all,  he  felt  that  a  jealous  nation  and  an  ex- 
pecting world  were  anxiously  awaiting  the  result 
of  his  enterprise.  During  a  great  part  of  the 
present  voyage  he  had  been  excited  by  the  con- 
stant hope  of  soon  arriving  at  the  known  parts  of 
India,  and  by  the  anticipation  of  a  triumphant 
return  to  Spain,  through  the  regions  of  the  East, 
after  circumnavigating  the  globe.  When  disap- 
pointed in  these  expectations  he  was  yet  stimu- 
lated by  a  conflict  with  incessant  hardships  and 
perils,  as  he  made  his  way  back  against  contrary 
winds  and  storms.  The  moment  he  was  relieved 
from  all  solicitude,  and  beheld  himself  in  a  known 
and  tranquil  sea,  the  excitement  suddenly  ceased, 
and  mind  and  body  sank  exhausted  by  almost  su- 
perhuman exertions.  The  very  day  on  which  he 
sailed  from  Mona  he  was  struck  with  a  sudden 
malady,  which  deprived  him  of  memory,  of  sight, 
and  all  his  faculties.  He  fell  into  a  deep  lethargy, 
resembling  death  itself.  His  crew,  alarmed  at 
this  profound  torpor,  feared  that  death  was  really 
at  hand.  They  abandoned,  therefore,  all  further 
prosecution  of  the  voyage,  and  spreading  their 
sails  to  the  east  wind  so  prevalent  in  those  seas, 
bore  Columbus  back,  in  a  state  of  complete  insen- 
sibility, to  the  harbor  of  Isabella. 


*  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  v.  sec.  22. 


BOOK  VIII. 


CHAPTER   I. 


ARRIVAL  OF  THE  ADMIRAL  AT  ISABELLA— CHAR- 
ACTER OF  BARTHOLOMEW  COLUMBUS. 

[1494.     Sept.  4.] 

THE  sight  of  the  little  squadron  of  Columbus 
standing  once  more  into  the  harbor  was  hailed 
with  joy  by  such  of  the  inhabitants  of  Isabella  as 
remained  faithful  to  him.  The  long  time  that  had 
elapsed  since  his  departure  on  this  adventurous 
voyage,  without  any  tidings  arriving  from  him, 
had  given  rise  to  the  most  serious  apprehensions 
for  his  safety  ;  and  it  began  to  be  feared  that  he 
had  fallen  a  victim  to  his  enterprising  spirit  in 
some  remote  part  of  these  unknown  seas. 

A  joyful  and  heartfelt  surprise  awaited  the  ad- 
miral on  his  arrival,  in  finding  at  his  bedside  his 
brother  Bartholomew,  the  companion  of  his  youth, 
his  confidential  coadjutor,  and  in  a  manner  his 
second  self,  from  whom  he  had  been  separated  for 
several  years.  It  will  be  recollected  that,  about 


the  time  of  the  admiral's  departure  from  Portugal, 
he  had  commissioned  Bartholomew  to  repair  to 
England,  and  propose  his  project  of  discovery  to 
King  Henry  VII.  Of  this  application  to  the  Eng- 
lish court  no  precise  particulars  are  known.  Fer- 
nando Columbus  states  that  his  uncle,  in  the 
course  of  his  voyage,  was  captured  and  plundered 
by  a  corsair,  and  reduced  to  such  poverty,  that  he 
had  for  a  long  time  to  struggle  for  a  mere  subsist- 
ence by  making  sea-charts  ;  so  that  some  years 
elapsed  before  he  made  his  application  to  the  Eng- 
lish monarch.  Las  Casas  thinks  that  he  did  not 
immediately  proceed  to  England,  having  found  a 
memorandum  in  his  handwriting,  by  which  it 
would  appear  that  he  accompanied  Bartholomew 
Diaz  in  1486,  in  his  voyage  along  the  coast  of 
Africa,  in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Portugal,  in 
the  course  of  which  voyage  was  discovered  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.* 


*  The  memorandum  cited  by  Las  Casas  (Hist.  Ind., 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


113 


It  is  but  justice  to  the  memory  of  Henry  VII.  to 
say  that  when  the  proposition  was  eventually  made 
to  him  it  met  with  a  more  ready  attention  than 
from  any  other  sovereign.  An  agreement  was  ac- 
tually made  with  Bartholomew  for  the  prosecution 
of  the  enterprise,  and  the  latter  departed  for  Spain 
in  search  of  his  brother.  On  reaching  Paris,  he 
first  received  the  joyful  intelligence  that  the  dis- 
covery was  already  made  ;  that  his  brother  had 
returned  to  Spain  in  triumph,  and  was  actually  at 
the  Spanish  court,  honored  by  the  sovereigns, 
caressed  by  the  nobility,  and  idolized  by  the  peo- 
ple. The  glory  of  Columbus  already  shed  its  rays 
upon  his  family,  and  Bartholomew  found  himself 
immediately  a  person  of  importance.  He  was 
noticed  by  the  French  monarch,  Charles  VIII., 
who,  understanding  that  he  was  low  in  purse,  fur- 
nished him  with  one  hundred  crowns  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  his  journey  to  Spain.  He  reached 
Seville  just  as  his  brother  had  departed  on  his  sec- 
ond voyage.  Bartholomew  immediately  repaired 
to  the  court,  then  at  Valladolid,  taking  with  him 
his  two  nephews,  Diego  and  Fernando,  who  were 


lib.  i.  cap.  7)  is  curious,  though  not  conclusive.  He 
says  that  he  found  it  in  an  old  book  belonging  to 
Christopher  Columbus,  containing  the  works  of  Pedro 
de  Aliaco.  It  was  written  in  the  margin  of  a  treatise 
on  the  form  of  the  globe,  in  the  handwriting  of  Bar- 
tholomew Columbus,  which  was  well  known  to  Las 
Casas,  as  he  had  many  of  his  letters  in  his  possession. 
The  memorandum  was  in  a  barbarous  mixture  of  Latin 
and  Spanish,  and  to  the  following  effect : 

In  the  year  1488,  in  December,  arrived  at  Lisbon 
Bartholomew  Diaz,  captain  of  three  caravels,  which 
the  King  of  Portugal  sent  to  discover  Guinea,  and 
brought  accounts  that  he  had  discovered  six  hundred 
leagues  of  territory,  four  hundred  and  fifty  to  the 
south  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  north,  to  a  cape, 
named  by  him  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  ;  and  that  by 
the  astrolabe  he  found  the  cape  45  degrees  beyond  the 
equinoctial  line.  This  cape  was  3100  leagues  distant 
from  Lisbon  ;  the  which  the  said  captain  says  he  set 
down,  league  by  league,  in  a  chart  of  navigation  pre- 
sented by  him  to  the  King  of  Portugal  ;  in  all 
which,  adds  the  writer,  I  was  present  (in  quibus  om- 
nibus interfui). 

Las  Casas  expresses  a  doubt  whether  Bartholomew 
wrote  this  note  for  himself  or  on  the  part  of  his 
brother,  but  infers  that  one,  or  both,  were  in  this  ex- 
pedition. The  inference  may  be  correct  with  respect 
to  Bartholomew,  but  Christopher,  at  the  time  speci- 
fied, was  at  the  Spanish  court. 

Las  Casas  accounts  for  a  difference  in  date  between 
the  foregoing  memorandum  and  the  chronicles  of  the 
voyage  ;  the  former  making  the  return  of  Diaz  in  the 
year  '88,  the  latter  '87.  This,  he  observes,  might  be 
because  some  begin  to  count  the  year  after  Christmas, 
others  at  the  first  of  January  ;  and  the  expedition  sailed 
about  the  end  of  August,  '86.  and  returned  in  Decem- 
ber, '87,  after  an  absence  of  seventeen  months. 

NOTE. — Since  publishing  the  first  edition  of  this 
work,  the  author  being  in  Seville,  and  making  re- 
searches in  the  Bibliotheca  Colu.mbina,  the  library 
given  by  Fernando  Columbus  to  the  cathedral  of  that 
city,  he  came  accidentally  upon  the  above-mentioned 
copy  of  the  work  of  Pedro  Aliaco.  He  ascertained  it 
to  be  the  same  by  finding  the  above-cited  memoran- 
dum written  on  the  margin,  at  the  eighth  chapter  of 
the  tract  called  "Imago  Mundi."  It  is  an  old  vol- 
ume in  folio,  bound  in  parchment,  published  soon 
after  the  invention  of  printing,  containing  a  collection 
in  Latin  of  astronomical  and  cosmographical  tracts 
of  Pedro  (or  Peter)  de  Aliaco,  Archbishop  of  Cam- 
bray  and  Cardinal,  and  of  his  disciple,  John  Gerson. 
Pedro  de  Aliaco  was  born  in  1340,  and  died,  according 
to  some,  in  1416,  according  to  others  in  1425.  He 
was  the  author  of  many  works,  and  one  of  the  most 


to  serve  in  quality  of  pages  to  Prince  Juan.*  He 
was  received  with  distinguished  favor  by  the  sov- 
ereigns ;  who,  finding  him  to  be  an  able  and  ac- 
complished navigator,  gave  him  the  command  of 
three  ships  freighted  with  supplies  for  the  colony, 
and  sent  him  to  aid  his  brother  in  his  enterprises. 
He  had  again  arrived  too  late  ;  reaching  Isabella 
just  after  the  departure  of  the  admiral  for  the  coast 
of  Cuba. 

The  sight  of  this  brother  was  an  inexpressible 
relief  to  Columbus,  overwhelmed  as  he  was  by 
cares,  and  surrounded  by  strangers.  His  chief 
dependence  for  sympathy  and  assistance  had  hith- 
erto been  on  his  brother  Don  Diego  ;  but  his  mild 
and  peaceable  disposition  rendered  him  little  ca- 
pable of  managing  the  concerns  of  a  factious 
colony.  Bartholomew  was  of  a  different  and  more 
efficient  character.  He  was  prompt,  active,  de- 
cided, and  of  a  fearless  spirit  ;  whatever  he  deter- 
mined, he  carried  into  instant  execution,  without 
regard  to  difficulty  or  danger.  His  person  corre- 
sponded to  his  mind  ;  it  was  tall,  muscular,  vigor- 
ous, and  commanding.  He  had  an  air  of  great 
authority,  but  somewhat  stern,  wanting  that 
sweetness  and  benignity  which  tempered  the  au- 
thoritative demeanor  of  the  admiral.  Indeed, 
there  was  a  certain  asperity  in  his  temper,  and  a 
dryness  and  abruptness  in  his  manners,  which 
made  him  many  enemies  ;  yet  notwithstanding 
these  external  defects,  he  was  of  a  generous  dis- 
position, free  from  all  arrogance  or  malevolence, 
and  as  placable  as  he  was  brave. 

He  was  a  thorough  seaman,  understanding  both 
the  theory  and  practice  of  his  profession  ;  having 
been  formed,  in  a  great  measure,  under  the  eye  of 
the  admiral,  and  being  but  little  inferior  to  him  in 
science.  He  was  superior  to  him  in  the  exercise 
of  the  pen,  according  to  Las  Casas,  who  had  let- 


learned  and  scientific  men  of  his  day.  Las  Casas  is 
of  opinion  that  his  writings  had  more  effect  in  stimu- 
lating Columbus  to  his  enterprise  than  those  of  any 
other  author.  "  His  work  was  so  familiar  to  Colum- 
bus, that  he  had  filled  its  whole  margin  with  Latin 
notes  in  his  handwriting  ;  citing  many  things  which 
he  had  read  and  gathered  elsewhere.  This  book, 
which  was  very  old,"  continues  Las  Casas,  "  I  had 
many  times  in  my  hands  ;  and  I  drew  some  things 
from  it,  written  in  Latin  by  the  said  admiral,  Christo- 
pher Columbus,  to  verify  certain  points  appertaining 
to  his  history,  of  which  I  before  was  in  doubt." 
(Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  u.) 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  the  author,  therefore, 
to  discover  this  identical  volume,  this  Vade  Meciivi  of 
Columbus,  in  a  state  of  good  preservation.  [It  is  in 

the  cathedral  library,  E- G,  Tab.  178,  No.  21.]  The 

notes  and  citations  mentioned  by  Las  Casas  are  in 
Latin,  with  many  abbreviations,  written  in  a  very 
small,  but  neat  and  distinct  hand,  and  run  throughout 
the  volume  ;  calling  attention  to  the  most  striking  pas- 
sages, or  to  those  which  bear  most  upon  the  theories 
of  Columbus  ;  occasionally  containing  brief  comments 
or  citing  the  opinions  of  other  authors,  ancient  and 
modern,  either  in  support  or  contradiction  of  the  text. 
The  memorandum  particularly  cited  by  Las  Casas, 
mentioning  the  voyage  of  Bartholomew  Diaz  to  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  is  to  disprove  an  opinion  in  the 
text,  that  the  torrid  zone  was  uninhabitable.  This 
volume  is  a  most  curious  and  interesting  document, 
the  only  one  that  remains  of  Columbus  prior  to  his 
discovery.  It  illustrates  his  researches  and  in  a  man- 
ner the  current  of  his  thoughts,  while  as  yet  his  great 
enterprise  existed  tut  in  idea,  and  while  he  was  seek- 
ing means  to  convince  the  world  of  its  practicability. 
It  will  be  found  also  to  contain  the  grounds  of  many 
of  his  opinions  and  speculations  on  a  variety  of  sub« 
jects. 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  60. 


114 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ters  and  manuscripts  of  both  in  his  possession. 
He  was  acquainted  with  Latin,  but  does  not  ap- 
pear to  have  been  highly  educated  ;  his  knowl- 
edge, like  that  of  his  brother,  being  chiefly  derived 
from  a  long  course  of  varied  experience  and  atten- 
tive observation.  Equally  vigorous  and  penetrat- 
ing in  intellect  with  the  admiral,  but  less  enthusi- 
astic in  spirit  and  soaring  in  imagination,  and 
with  less  simplicity  of  heart,  he  surpassed  him  in 
the  subtle  and  adroit  management  of  business, 
was  more  attentive  to  his  interests,  and  had  more 
of  that  worldly  wisdom  which  is  so  important  in 
the  ordinary  concerns  of  life.  His  genius  migi-.r 
never  have  enkindled  him  to  the  sublime  specula- 
tion which  ended  in  the  discovery  of  a  world,  but 
his  practical  sagacity  was  calculated  to  turn  that 
discovery  to  advantage.  Such  is  the  description 
of  Bartholomew  Columbus,  as  furnished  by  the 
venerable  Las  Casas  from  personal  observation  ;  * 
and  it  will  be  found  to  accord  with  his  actions 
throughout  the  remaining  history  of  the  admiral, 
in  the  events  of  which  he  takes  a  conspicuous  part. 
Anxious  to  relieve  himself  from  the  pressure  of 
public  business,  which  weighed  heavily  upon  him 
during  his  present  malady,  Columbus  immediately 
invested  his  brother  Bartholomew  with  the  title 
and  authority  of  Adelantado,  an  office  equivalent 
to  that  of  lieutenant-governor.  He  considered 
himself  entitled  to  do  so  from  the  articles  of  his 
arrangement  with  the  sovereigns,  but  it  was 
looked  upon  by  King  Ferdinand  as  an  undue  as- 
sumption of  power,  and  gave  great  offence  to  that 
jealous  monarch,  who  was  exceedingly  tenacious 
of  the  prerogatives  of  the  crown,  and  considered 
dignities  of  this  rank  and  importance  as  only  to  be 
conferred  by  royal  mandate. f  Columbus,  how- 
ever, was  not  actuated  in  this  appointment  by  a 
mere  desire  to  aggrandize  his  family.  He  felt  the 
importance  of  his  brother's  assistance  in  the  pres- 
ent critical  state  of  the  colony,  but  that  this  co- 
operation would  be  inefficient  unless  it  bore  the 
stamp  of  high  official  authority.  In  fact,  during 
the  few  months  that  he  had  been  absent,  the  whole 
island  had  become  a  scene  of  discord  and  vio- 
lence, in  consequence  of  the  neglect,  or  rather  the 
flagrant  violation,  of  those  rules  which  he  had  pre- 
scribed for  the  maintenance  of  its  tranquillity.  A 
brief  retrospect  of  the  recent  affairs  of  the  colony 
is  here  necessary  to  explain  their  present  confu- 
sion. It  will  exhibit  one  of  the  many  instances  in 
which  Columbus  was  doomed  to  reap  the  fruits  of 
the  evil  seed  sown  by  his  adversaries. 


CHAPTER   II. 

MISCONDUCT    OF    DON    PEDRO    MARGARITE,    AND 
HIS   DEPARTURE  FROM  THE  ISLAND. 

[H94-] 

IT  will  be  recollected,  that  before  departing  on 
his  voyage,  Columbus  had  given  the  command  of 
the  army  to  Don  Pedro  Margarite,  with  orders  to 
make  a  military  tour  of  the  island,  awing  the  na- 
tives by  a  display  of  military  force,  but  conciliat- 
ing their  good-will  by  equitable  and  amicable 
treatment. 

The  island  was  at  this  time  divided  into  five 
domains,  each  governed  by  a  cackjue,  of  absolute 
and  hereditary  power,  to  whorio  a  great  number 
of  inferior  caciques  yielded  tributary  allegiance. 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i,  cap.  29. 
f  Ibid.,  cap.  loi. 


The  first  or  most  important  domain  comprised  the 
middle  part  of  the  royal  Vega.  It  was  a  rich, 
lovely  country,  partly  cultivated  after  the  imper- 
fect manner  of  the  natives,  partly  covered  with 
noble  forests,  studded  with  Indian  towns,  and 
watered  by  numerous  rivers,  many  of  which,  roll- 
ing down  from  the  mountains  of  Cibao,  on  its 
southern  frontier,  had  gold-dust  mingled  with 
their  sands.  The  name  of  the  cacique  was  Gua- 
rionex,  whose  ancestors  had  long  ruled  over  the 
province. 

The  second,  called  Marien,  was  under  the  sway 
of  Guacanagari,  on  whose  coast  Columbus  had 
been  wrecked  in  his  first  voyage.  It  was  a  large 
and  fertile  territory,  extending  along  the  northern 
coast  from  Cape  St.  Nicholas  at  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  the  island,  to  the  great  river  Yagui, 
afterward  called  Monte  Christi,  and  including  the 
northern  part  of  the  royal  Vega,  since  called  the 
plain  of  Cape  Francois,  now  Cape  Haytien. 

The  third  bore  the  name  of  Maguana.  It  ex- 
tended along  the  southern  coast  from  the  river 
Ozema  to  the  lakes,  and  comprised  the  chief  part 
of  the  centre  of  the  island  lying  along  the  southern 
face  of  the  mountains  of  Cibao,  the  mineral  dis- 
trict of  Hayti.  It  was  under  the  dominion  of  the 
Carib  cacique  Caonabo,  the  most  fierce  and  puis- 
sant of  the  savage  chieftains,  and  the  inveterate 
enemy  of  the  white  men. 

The  fourth  took  its  name  from  Xaragua,  a  large 
lake,  and  was  the  most  populous  and  extensive  of 
all.  It  comprised  the  whole  western  coast,  includ- 
ing the  long  promontory  of  Cape  Tiburon,  and 
extended  for  a  considerable  distance  along  the 
southern  side  of  the  island.  The  inhabitants  were 
finely  formed,  had  a  noble  air,  a  more  agreeable 
elocution,  and  more  soft  and  graceful  manners 
than  the  natives  of  the  other  parts  of  the  island. 
The  sovereign  was  named  Behechio  ;  his  sister, 
Anacaona,  celebrated  throughout  the  island  for 
her  beauty,  was  the  favorite  wife  of  the  neighbor- 
ing cacique  Caonabo. 

The  fifth  domain  was  Higuey,  and  occupied  the 
whole  eastern  part  of  the  island,  being  bounded 
on  the  north  by  the  Bay  of  Samana  and  part  of  the 
river  Yuna,  and  on  the  west  by  the  Ozema.  The 
inhabitants  were  the  most  active  and  warlike  peo- 
ple of  the  island,  having  learned  the  use  of  the 
bow  and  arrow  from  the  Caribs,  who  made  fre- 
quent descents  upon  their  coasts  ;  they  were  said 
also  to  make  use  of  poisoned  weapons.  Their 
bravery,  however,  was  but  comparative,  and  was 
found  eventually  of  little  avail  against  the  terror 
of  European  arms.  They  were  governed  by  a 
cacique  named  Cotubanama.* 

Such  were  the  five  territorial  divisions  of  the 
island  at  the  time  of  its  discover)'.  The  amount 
of  its  population  has  never  been  clearly  ascer- 
tained ;  some  have  stated  it  at  a  million  of  souls, 
though  this  is  considered  an  exaggeration.  It 
must,  however,  have  been  very  numerous,  and 
sufficient,  in  case  of  any  general  hostility,  to  en- 
danger the  safety  of  a  handful  of  Europeans.  Co- 
lumbus trusted  for  safety  partly  to  the  awe  in- 
spired by  the  weapons  and  horses  of  the  Span- 
iards, and  the  idea  of  their  superhuman  nature, 
but  chiefly  to  the  measures  he  had  taken  to  con- 
ciliate the  good-will  of  the  Indians  by  gentle  and 
beneficent  treatment. 

Margarite  set  forth  on  his  expedition  with  the 
greater  part  of  the  forces,  leaving  Alonzo  de  Ojeda 
in  command  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Thomas.  In- 
stead, however,  of  commencing  by  exploring  the 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  i.  p.  69. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


115 


rough  mountains  of  Cibao,  as  he  had  been  com- 
manded, he  descended  into  the  fertile  region  of 
the  Vega.  Here  he  lingered  among  the  populous 
and  hospitable  Indian  villages,  forgetful  of  the  ob- 
ject of  his  command,  and  of  the  instructions  left 
him  by  the  admiral.  A  commander  who  lapses 
frt>m  duty  himself  is  little  calculated  to  enforce 
discipline.  The  sensual  indulgences  of  Margarite 
were  imitated  by  his  followers,  and  his  army  soon 
became  little  better  than  a  crew  of  riotous  ma- 
rauders. The  Indians,  for  a  time,  supplied  them 
with  provisions  with  their  wonted  hospitality,  but 
the  scanty  stores  of  those  abstemious  yet  improvi- 
dent people  were  soon  exhausted  by  the  Span- 
iards ;  one  of  whom  they  declared  would  consume 
more  in  a  day  than  would  support  an  Indian  for  a 
month.  If  provisions  were  withheld,  or  scantily 
furnished,  they  were  taken  with  violence  ;  nor 
was  any  compensation  given  to  the  natives,  nor 
means  taken  to  soothe  their  irritation.  The  avid- 
ity for  gold  also  led  to  a  thousand  acts  of  in- 
justice and  oppression  ;  but  above  all  the  Span- 
iards outraged  the  dearest  feelings  of  the  natives, 
by  their  licentious  conduct  with  respect  to  the 
women.  In  fact,  instead  of  guests,  they  soon  as- 
sumed the  tone  of  imperious  masters  ;  instead  of 
enlightened  benefactors,  they  became  sordid  and 
sensual  oppressors. 

Tidings  of  these  excesses,  and  of  the  disgust 
and  impatience  they  were  awakening  among  the 
natives,  soon  reached  Don  Diego  Columbus. 
With  the  concurrence  of  the  council,  he  wrote  to 
Margarite,  reprehending  his  conduct,  and  request- 
ing him  to  proceed  on  the  military  tour,  according 
to  the  commands  of  the  admiral.  The  pride  of 
Margarite,  took  fire  at  this  reproof  ;  he  considered, 
or  rather  pretended  to  consider  himself  independ- 
ent in  his  command,  and  above  all  responsibility 
to  the  council  for  his  conduct.  Being  of  an  an- 
cient family,  also,  and  a  favorite  of  the  king,  he 
affected  to  look  down  with  contempt  upon  the 
newly-coined  nobility  of  Diego  Columbus.  His 
letters  in  reply  to  the  orders  of  the  president  and 
council  were  couched  in  a  tone  either  of  haughty 
contumely  or  of  military  defiance.  He  continued 
with  his  followers  quartered  in  the  Vega,  persist- 
ing in  a  course  of  outrages  and  oppressions  fatal 
to  the  tranquillity  of  the  island. 

He  was  supported  in  his  arrogant  defiance  of 
authority  by  the  cavaliers  and  adventurers  of  no- 
ble birth  who  were  in  the  colony,  and  who  had 
been  deeply  wounded  in  the  proud  punctilio  so 
jealously  guarded  by  a  Spaniard.  They  could  not 
forget  nor  forgive  the  stern  equity  exercised  by  the 
admiral  in  a  time  of  emergency,  in  making  them 
submit  to  the  privations  and  share  the  labors  of  the 
vulgar.  Still  less  could  they  brook  the  authority  of 
his  brother  Diego,  destitute  of  his  high  personal 
claims  to  distinction.  They  formed,  therefore,  a 
kind  of  aristocratical  faction  in  the  colony  ;  affect- 
ing to  consider  Columbus  and  his  family  as  mere 
mercenary  and  upstart  foreigners,  building  up 
their  own  fortunes  at  the  expense  of  the  toils  and 
sufferings  of  the  community,  and  the  degradation 
of  Spanish  hildagos  and  cavaliers. 

In  addition  to  these  partisans,  Margarite  had 
a  powerful  ally  in  his  fellow-countryman,  Friar 
Boyle,  the  head  of  the  religious  fraternity,  one  of 
the  members  of  the  council,  and  apostolical  vicar 
of  the  New  World.  It  is  not  easy  to  ascertain  the 
original  cause  of  the  hostility  of  this  holy  friar  to 
the  admiral,  who  was  never  wanting  in  respect  to 
the  clergy.  Various  altercations,  however,  had 
taken  place  between  them.  Some  say  that  the 
friar  interfered  in  respect  to  the  strict  measures 


deemed  necessary  by  the  admiral  for  the  security  of 
the  colony  ;  others  that  he  resented  the  fancied 
indignity  offered  to  himself  and  his  household,  in 
putting  them  on  the  same  short  allowance  with 
the  common  people.  He  appears,  however,  to 
have  been  generally  disappointed  and  disgusted 
with  the  sphere  of  action  afforded  by  the  colony, 
and  to  have  looked  back  with  regret  to  the  Old 
World.  He  had  none  of  that  enthusiastic  zeal  and 
persevering  self-devotion,  which  induced  so  many 
of  the  Spanish  missionaries  to  brave  all  the  hard- 
ships and  privations  of  the  New  World,  in  the 
hope  of  converting  its  pagan  inhabitants. 

Encouraged  and  fortified  by  such  powerful  par- 
tisans, Margarite  really  began  to  consider  himself 
above  the  temporary  authorities  of  the  island. 
Whenever  he  came  to  Isabella,  he  took  no  notice  of 
Don  Diego  Columbus,  nor  paid  any  respect  to  the 
council,  but  acted  as  if  he  had  paramount  com- 
mand. He  formed  a  cabal  of  most  of  those  who 
were  disaffected  to  Columbus,  and  discontented 
with  their  abode  in  the  colony.  Among  these  the 
leading  agitator  was  Friar  Boyle.  It  was  con- 
certed among  them  to  take  possession  of  the  ships 
which  had  brought  out  Don  Bartholomew  Colum- 
bus, and  to  return  in  them  to  Spain.  Both  Mar- 
garite and  Boyle  possessed  the  favor  of  the  king, 
and  they  deemed  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  to 
justify  their  abandonment  of  their  military  and 
religious  commands  by  a  pretended  zeal  for  the 
public  good  ;  hurrying  home  to  represent  the 
disastrous  state  of  the  country,  through  the  tyr- 
anny and  oppression  of  its  rulers.  Some  have  as- 
cribed the  abrupt  departure  of  Margarite  to  his 
fear  of  a  severe  military  investigation  of  his  con- 
duct on  the  return  of  the  admiral  ;  others,  to  his 
having,  in  the  course  of  his  licentious  amours,  con- 
tracted a  malady  at  that  time  new  and  unknown, 
and  which  he  attributed  to  the  climate,  and  hoped 
to  cure  by  medical  assistance  in  Spain.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  cause,  his  measures  were 
taken  with  great  precipitancy,  without  any  consul- 
tation of  the  proper  authorities,  or  any  regard  to 
the  consequences  of  his  departure.  Accompanied 
by  a  band  of  malcontents,  he  and  Friar  Boyle 
took  possession  of  some  ships  in  the  harbor,  and 
set  sail  for  Spain  ;  the  first  general  and  apostle  of 
the  New  World  thus  setting  the  flagrant  example 
of  unauthorized  abandonment  of  their  posts. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TROUBLES  WITH  THE  NATIVES — ALONZO  DE  OJEDA 
BESIEGED  BY  CAONABO. 

[1494.] 

THE  departure  of  Pedro  Margarite  left  the  army 
without  a  head,  and  put  an  end  to  what  little  re- 
straint or  discipline  remained.  There  is  no  rab- 
ble so  licentious  as  soldiery  left  to  their  own  direc- 
tion in  a  defenceless  country.  They  now  roved 
about  in  bands  or  singly,  according  to  their  ca- 
price, scattering  themselves  among  the  Indian 
villages,  and  indulging  in  all  kinds  of  excesses, 
either  as  prompted  by  avarice  or  sensuality.  The 
natives,  indignant  at  having  their  hospitality  thus 
requited,  refused  any  longer  to  furnish  them  with 
food.  In  a  little  while  the  Spaniards  began  to  ex- 
perience the  pressure  of  hunger,  and  seized  upon 
provisions  wherever  they  could  be  found,  accom- 
panying these  seizures  with  acts  of  wanton  vio- 
lence. At  length,  by  a  series  of  flagrant  outrages, 
the  gentle  and  pacific  nature  of  this  people  was 


110 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


roused  to  resentment,  and  from  confiding  and  hos- 
pitable hosts  they  were  converted  into  vindictive 
enemies.  All  the  precautions  enjoined  by  Colum- 
bus having  been  neglected,  the  evils  he  had  ap- 
prehended came  to  pass.  Though  the  Indians, 
naturally  timid,  dared  not  contend  with  the  Span- 
iards while  they  kept  up  any  combined  and  disci- 
plined force,  yet  they  took  sanguinary  vengeance 
on  them  whenever  they  met  with  small  parties 
or  scattered  individuals,  roving  about  in  quest  of 
food.  Encouraged  by  these  petty  triumphs,  and 
the  impunity  which  seemed  to  attend  them,  their 
hostilities  grew  more  and  more  alarming.  Guati- 
guana,  cacique  of  a  large  town  on  the  banks  of 
the  Grand  River,  in  the  dominions  of  Guarionex, 
sovereign  of  the  Vega,  put  to  death  ten  Span- 
iards, who  had  quartered  themselves  in  his  to\vn 
and  outraged  the  inhabitants  by  their  licentious- 
ness. He  followed  up  this  massacre  by  setting 
fire  to  a  house  in  which  forty-six  Spaniards  were 
lodged.*  Flushed  by  this  success,  he  threatened 
to  attack  a  small  fortress  called  Magdalena,  which 
had  recently  been  built  in  his  neighborhood  in 
the  Vega  ;  so  that  the  commander,  Luis  de  Arri- 
aga,  having  but  a  feeble  garrison,  was  obliged  to 
remain  shut  up  within  its  walls  until  relief  should' 
arrive  from  Isabella. 

The  most  formidable  enemy  of  the  Spaniards, 
however,  was  Caonabo,  the  Carib  cacique  of  Mag- 
uana.  With  natural  talents  for  war,  and  intelli- 
gence superior  to  the  ordinary  range  of  savage 
intellect,  he  had  a  proud  and  daring  spirit  to  urge 
him  on,  three  valiant  brothers  to  assist  him,  and 
a  numerous  tribe  at  his  command.!  He  had  al- 
ways felt  jealous  of  the  intrusion  of  the  white  men 
into  the  island  ;  but  particularly  exasperated  by 
the  establishment  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Thomas, 
erected  in  the  very  centre  of  his  dominions.  As 
long  as  the  army  lay  within  call  in  the  Vega  he 
was  deterred  from  any  attack  ;  but  when,  on  the 
departure  of  Margarite,  it  became  dismembered 
and  dispersed,  the  time  for  striking  a  signal  blow 
seemed  arrived.  The  fortress  remained  isolated, 
with  a  garrison  of  only  fifty  men.  By  a  sudden 
and  secret  movement,  he  might  overwhelm  it  with 
his  forces,  and  repeat  the  horrors  which  he  had 
wreaked  upon  La  Navidad. 

The  wily  cacique,  however,  had  a  different  kind 
of  enemy  to  deal  with  in  the  commander  of  St. 
Thomas.  Alonzo  de  Ojeda  had  been  schooled  in 
Moorish  warfare.  He  was  versed  in  all  kinds  of 
feints,  stratagems,  lurking  ambuscades,  and  wild 
assaults.  No  man  was  more  fitted,  therefore,  to 
cope  with  Indian  warriors.  He  had  a  headlong 
courage,  arising  partly  from  the  natural  heat  and 
violence  of  his  disposition,  and,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, from  religious  superstition.  He  had  been 
engaged  in  wars  with  Moors  and  Indians,  in  pub- 
lic battles  and  private  combats,  in  fights,  feuds, 
and  encounters  of  all  kinds,  to  which  he  had  been 
prompted  by  a  rash  and  fiery  spirit,  and  a  love  of 
adventure  ;  yet  he  had  never  been  wounded,  nor 
lost  a  drop  of  blood.  He  began  to  doubt  whether 
any  weapon  had  power  to  harm  him,  and  to  con- 
sider himself  under  the  special  protection  of  the 
Holy  Virgin.  As  a  kind  of  religious  talisman,  he 
had  a  small  Flemish  painting  of  the  Virgin,  given 
him  by  his  patron,  Fonseca,  Bishop  of  Badajoz. 
This  he  constantly  carried  with  him  in  city,  camp, 
or  field,  making  it  the  object  of  his  frequent  orisons 
and  invocations.  In  garrison  or  encampment,  it 
was  suspended  in  his  chamber  or  his  tent ;  in  his 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 
f  Ibid. 


rough  expeditions  in  the  wilderness  he  carried  it 
in  his  knapsack,  and  whenever  leisure  permitted, 
would  take  it  out,  fix  it  against  a  tree,  and  ad- 
.dress  his  prayers  to  this  military  patroness.*  In 
a  word,  he  swore  by  the  Virgin,  he  invoked  the 
Virgin  whether  in  brawl  or  battle,  and  under  the 
favor  of  the  Virgin  he  was  ready  for  any  enter- 
prise or  adventure.  Such  was  this  Alonzo  de 
Ojeda  ;  bigoted  in  his  devotion,  reckless  in  his 
life,  fearless  in  his  spirit,  like  many  of  the  roving 
Spanish  cavaliers  of  those  days.  Though  small 
in  size,  he  was  a  prodigy  of  strength  and  prowess  ; 
and  the  chroniclers  of  the  early  discoveries  relate 
marvels  of  his  valor  and  exploits. 

Having  reconnoitred  the  fortress,  Caonabo  as- 
sembled ten  thousand  warriors,  armed  with  war 
clubs,  bows  and  arrows,  and  lances  hardened  in 
the  fire  ;  and  making  his  way  secretly  through  the 
forests,  came  suddenly  in  the  neighborhood,  ex- 
pecting to  surprise  the  garrison  in  a  state  of  care- 
less security.  He  found  Ojeda's  forces,  however, 
drawn  up  warily  within  his  tower,  which,  being 
built  upon  an  almost  insulated  height,  with  a  river 
nearly  surrounding  it,  and  the  remaining  space 
traversed  by  a  deep  ditch,  set  at  defiance  an  attack 
by  naked  warriors. 

Foiled  in  his  attempt,  Caonabo  now  hoped  to 
reduce  it  by  famine.  For  this  purpose,  he  distrib- 
uted his  warriors  through  the  adjacent  forests, 
and  waylaid  every  pass,  so  as  to  intercept  any  sup- 
plies brought  by  the  natives,  and  to  cut  off  any 
foraging  party  from  the  fortress.  This  siege  or  in- 
vestment lasted  for  thirty  days.f  and  reduced  the 
garrison  to  great  distress.  There  is  a  traditional 
anecdote,  which  Oviedo  relates  of  Pedro  Marga- 
rite, the  former  commander  of  this  fortress,  but 
which  may  with  more  probability  be  ascribed  to 
Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  as  having  occurred  during  this 
siege.  At  a  time  when  the  garrison  was  sore 
pressed  by  famine,  an  Indian  gained  access  to  the 
tort,  bringing  a  couple  of  wood-pigeons  for  the 
table  of  the  commander.  The  latter  was  in  an 
apartment  of  the  tower  surrounded  by  several  of 
his  officers.  Seeing  them  regard  the  birds  with 
the  wistful  eyes  of  famishing  men,  "  It  is  a  pity," 
said  he,  "  that  here  is  not  enough  to  give  us  all 
'a  meal  ;  I  cannot  consent  to  feast  while  the  rest 
of  you  are  starving  :"  so  saying,  he  turned  loose 
the  pigeons  from  a  window  of  the  tower. 

During  the  siege,  Ojeda  displayed  the  great- 
est activity  of  spirit  and  fertility  of  resource. 
He  baffled  all  the  arts  of  the  Carib  chieftain, 
concerting  stratagems  of  various  kinds  to  re- 
lieve the  garrison  and  annoy  the  foe.  He  sallied 
forth  whenever  the  enemy  appeared  in  any  force, 
leading  the  van  with  that  headlong  valor  for 
which  he  was  noted  ;  making  great  slaughter  with 
his  single  arm,  and,  as  usual,  escaping  unhurt 
from  amidst  showers  of  darts  and  arrows. 

Caonabo  saw  many  of  his  bravest  warriors  slain. 
His  forces  were  diminishing,  for  the  Indians,  un- 
used to  any  protracted  operations  of  war,  grew 
weary  of  this  siege,  and  returned  daily  in  num- 
bers to  their  homes.  He  gave  up  all  further  at- 
tempt, therefore,  on  the  fortress,  and  retired,  filled 
with  admiration  of  the  prowess  and  achievements 
of  Ojeda.  J 

The  restless  chieftain  was  not  discouraged  by 
the  failure  of  this  enterprise,  but  meditated 
schemes  of  a  bolder  and  more  extensive  nature. 


*  Herrera,   Hist.   Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  viii.  cap.  4. 
Pizarro  Varonese  Illustres,  cap.  8. 
f  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv. 
^  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  iii.  cap.  i. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


117 


Prowling  in  secret  in  the  vicinity  of  Isabella,  he 
noted  the  enfeebled  state  of  the  settlement.*  Many 
of  the  inhabitants  were  suffering  under  various 
maladies,  and  most  of  the  men  capable  of  bearing 
arms  were  distributed  about  the  country.  He 
now  conceived  the  project  of  a  general  league 
among  the  caciques,  to  surprise  and  overwhelm 
the  settlement,  and  massacre  the  Spaniards  wher- 
ever they  could  be  found.  This  handful  of  intru- 
ders once  exterminated,  he  trusted  the  island 
would  be  delivered  from  all  further  molestation  of 
the  kind  ;  little  dreaming  of  the  hopeless  nature 
of  the  contest,  and  that  where  the  civilized  .man 
once  plants  his  foot,  the  power  of  the  savage  is 
gone  forever. 

Reports  of  the  profligate  conduct  of  the  Span- 
iards had  spread  throughout  the  island,  and  in- 
spired hatred  and  hostility  even  among  tribes  who 
had  never  beheld  them,  nor  suffered  from  their 
misdeeds.  Caonabo  found  three  of  the  sovereign 
caciques  inclined  to  co-operate  with  him,  though 
impressed  with  deep  awe  of  the  supernatural 
power  of  the  Spaniards,  and  of  their  terrific  arms 
and  animals.  The  league,  however,  met  with  un- 
expected opposition  in  the  fifth  cacique,  Guacana- 
gari,  the  sovereign  of  Marien.  His  conduct  in 
this  time  of  danger  completely  manifested  the  in- 
justice of  the  suspicions  which  had  been  enter- 
tained of  him  by  the  Spaniards.  He  refused  to 
join  the  other  caciques  with  his  forces,  or  to  vio- 
late those  laws  of  hospitality  by  which  he  had  con- 
sidered himself  bound  to  protect  and  aid  the  white 
men,  ever  since  they  had  been  shipwrecked  on  his 
coast.  He  remained  quietly  in  his  dominions,  en- 
tertaining at  his  own  expense  a  hundred  of  the 
suffering  soldiery,  and  supplying  all  their  wants 
with  his  accustomed  generosity.  This  conduct 
drew  upon  him  the  odium  and  hostility  of  his  fel- 
low caciques,  particularly  of  the  fierce  Carib, 
Caonabo,  and  his  brother-in-law,  Behechio.  They 
made  irruptions  into  his  territories,  and  inflicted 
on  him  various  injuries  and  indignities.  Behechio 
killed  one  of  his  wives,  and  Caonabo  carried 
another  away  captive. f  Nothing,  however,  could 
shake  the  devotion  of  Guacanagari  to  the  Span- 
iards ;  and  as  his  dominions  lay  immediately  ad- 
jacent to  the  settlement,  and  those  of  some  of  the 
other  caciques  were  very  remote,  the  want  of  his 
co-operation  impeded  for  some  time  the  hostile 
designs  of  his  confederates.  J 

Such  was  the  critical  state  to  which  the  affairs 
of  the  colony  had  been  reduced,  and  such  the  bit- 
ter hostility  engendered  among  the  people  of  the 
island,  during  the  absence  of  Columbus,  and 
merely  in  consequence  of  violating  all  his  regula- 
tions. Margarite  and  Friar  Boyle  had  hastened 
to  Spain  to  make  false  representations  of  the  mis- 
eries of  the  island.  Had  they  remained  faithfully 
at  their  posts,  and  discharged  zealously  the  trust 
confided  to  them,  those  miseries  might  have  been 
easily  remedied,  if  not  entirely  prevented. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

MEASURES  OF  COLUMBUS  TO  RESTORE  THE 
QUIET  OF  THE  ISLAND — EXPEDITION  OF  OJEDA 
TO  SURPRISE  CAONABO. 

[H94-] 

IMMEDIATELY  after  the  return  of  Columbus  from 
Cuba,  while  he  was  yet  confined  to  his  bed  by  in- 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  60. 

f  Ibid. 

$  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 


disposition,  he  was  gratified  by  a  voluntary  visit 
from  Guacanagari,  who  manifested  the  greatest 
concern  at  his  illness,  for  he  appears  to  have 
always  entertained  an  affectionate  reverence  for 
the  admiral.  He  again  spoke  with  tears  of  the 
massacre  of  Fort  Nativity,  dwelling  on  the  exer-  | 
tions  he  had  made  in  defence  of  the  Spaniards.' 
He  now  informed  Columbus  of  the  secret  league 
forming  among  the  caciques  ;  of  his  opposition  to 
it,  and  the  consequent  persecution  he  had  suf- 
fered ;  of  the  murder  of  one  of  his  wives,  and  the 
capture  of  another.  He  urged  the  admiral  to  be 
on  his  guard  against  the  designs  of  Caonabo,  and 
offered  to  lead  his  subjects  to  the  field,  to  fight  by 
the  side  of  the  Spaniards,  as  well  out  of  friendship 
for  them  as  in  revenge  of  his  own  injuries.* 

Columbus  had  always  retained  a  deep  sense  of 
the  ancient  kindness  of  Guacanagari,  and  was  re- 
joiced to  have  all  suspicion  of  his  good  faith  thus 
effectually  dispelled.  Their  former  amicable  in- 
tercourse was  renewed,  with  this  difference,  that 
the  man  whom  Guacanagari  had  once  relieved 
and  succored  as  a  shipwrecked  stranger,  had  sud- 
denly become  the  arbiter  of  the  fate  of  himself  and 
all  his  countrymen. 

The  manner  in  which  this  peaceful  island  had 
been  exasperated  and  embroiled  by  the  licentious 
conduct  of  the  Europeans,  was  a  matter  of  deep 
concern  to  Columbus.  He  saw  all  his  plans  of 
deriving  an  immediate  revenue  to  the  sovereigns 
completely  impeded.  To  restore  the  island  to 
tranquillity  required  skilful  management.  His 
forces  were  but  small,  and  the  awe  in  which  the 
natives  had  stood  of  the  white  men,  as  super- 
natural beings,  had  been  in  some  degree  dis- 
pelled. He  was  too  ill  to  take  a  personal  share  in 
any  warlike  enterprise  ;  his  brother  Diego  was 
not  of  a  military  character,  and  Bartholomew  was 
yet  a  stranger  among  the  Spaniards,  and  re- 
garded by  the  leading  men  with  jealousy.  Still 
Columbus  considered  the  threatened  combination 
of  the  caciques  as  but  imperfectly  formed  ;  he 
trusted  to  their  want  of  skill  and  experience  in 
warfare,  and  conceived  that  by  prompt  measures, 
by  proceeding  in  detail,  punishing  some,  concili- 
ating others,  and  uniting  force,  gentleness,  and 
stratagem,  he  might  succeed  in  dispelling  the 
threatened  storm. 

His  first  care  was  to  send  a  body  of  armed  men 
to  the  relief  of  Fort  Magdalena,  menaced  with  de- 
struction by  Guatiguana,  the  cacique  of  the  Grand 
River,  who  had  massacred  the  Spaniards  quar- 
tered in  his  town.  Having  relieved  the  fortress, 
the  troops  overran  the  territory  of  Guatiguana, 
killing  many  of  his  warriors,  and  carrying  others 
off  captives  :  the  chieftain  himself  made  his  es- 
cape.} He  was  tributary  to  Guarionex,  sovereign 
cacique  of  the  Royal  Vega.  As  this  Indian 
reigned  over  a  great  and  populous  extent  of  coun- 
try, his  friendship  was  highly  important  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  colony,  while  there  was  immi- 
nent risk  of  his  hostility,  from  the  unbridled  ex- 
cesses of  the  Spaniards  who  had  been  quartered 
in  his  dominions.  Columbus  sent  for  him,  there- 
fore, and  explained  to  him  that  these  excesses  had 
been  in  violation  of  his  orders,  and  contrary  to  his 
good  intentions  toward  the  natives,  whom  it  was 
his  wish  in  every  way  to  please  and  benefit.  He 
explained,  likewise,  that  the  expedition  against 
Guatiguana  was  an  act  of  mere  individual  punish- 
ment, not  of  hostility  against  the  territories  of 
Guarionex.  The  cacique  was  of  a  quiet  and 


*  Herrera.  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i,  lib.  ii.  cap.  16. 
f  Ibid. 


118 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


placable  disposition,  and  whatever  anger  he  might 
have  felt  was  easily  soothed.  To  link  him  in  some 
degree  to  the  Spanish  interest,  Columbus  pre- 
vailed on  him  to  give  his  daughter  in  marriage 
to  the  Indian  interpreter,  Diego  Colon.*  As  a 
'<  stronger  precaution  against  any  hostility  on  the 
part  of  the  cacique,  and  to  insure  tranquillity  in 
the  important  region  of  the  Vega,  he  ordered  a 
fortress  to  be  erected  in  the  midst  of  his  territories, 
which  he  named  Fort  Conception.  The  easy  ca- 
cique agreed  without  hesitation  to  a  measure 
fraught  with  ruin  to  himself,  and  future  slavery  to 
his  subjects. 

The  most  formidable  enemy  remained  to  be  dis- 
posed of — Caonabo.  His  territories  lay  in  the  cen- 
tral and  mountainous  parts  of  the  island,  rendered 
difficult  of  access  by  rugged  rocks,  entangled  for- 
ests, and  frequent  rivers.  To  make  war  upon  this 
subtle  and  ferocious  chieftain,  in  the  depths  of  his 
wild  woodland  territory,  and  among  the  fastnesses 
of  his  mountains,  where  at  every  step  there  would 
be  danger  of  ambush,  would  be  a  work  of  time, 
peril,  and  uncertain  issue.  In  the  meanwhile  the 
settlements  would  never  be  secure  from  his  secret 
and  daring  enterprises,  and  the  working  of  the 
mines  would  be  subject  to  frequent  interruption. 
While  perplexed  on  this  subject,  Columbus  was 
relieved  by  an  offer  of  Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  to  take 
the  Carib  chieftain  by  stratagem,  and  deliver  him 
alive  into  his  hands.  The  project  was  wild,  haz- 
ardous, and  romantic,  characteristic  of  Ojeda,  who 
was  fond  of  distinguishing  himself  by  extravagant 
exploits  and  feats  of  desperate  bravery. 

Choosing  ten  bold  and  hardy  followers,  well 
armed  and  well  mounted,  and  invoking  the  pro- 
tection of  his  patroness  the  Virgin,  whose  image 
as  usual  he  bore  with  him  as  a  safeguard,  Ojeda 
plunged  into  the  forest,  and  made  his  way  above 
sixty  leagues  into  the  wild  territories  of  Caonabo, 
whom  he  found  in  one  of  his  most  populous  towns, 
the  same  now  called  Maguana,  near  the  town  of 
San  Juan.  Approaching  the  cacique  with  great 
deference  as  a  sovereign  prince,  he  professed  to 
come  on  a  friendly  embassy  from  the  admiral  who 
was  Guamiquina,  or  chief  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
who  had  sent  him  an  invaluable  present. 

Caonabo  had  tried  Ojeda  in  battle  ;  he  had  wit- 
nessed his  fiery  prowess,  and  had  conceived  a 
warrior's  admiration  of  him.  He  received  him 
with  a  degree  of  chivalrous  courtesy,  if  such  a 
phrase  may  apply  to  the  savage  state  and  rude 
hospitality  of  a  wild  warrior  of  the  forest.  The 
free,  fearless  deportment,  the  great  personal 
strength,  and  the  surprising  agility  and  adroit- 
ness of  Ojeda  in  all  manly  exercises,  and  in  the 
use  of  all  kinds  of  weapons,  were  calculated  to 
delight  a  savage,  and  he  soon  became  a  great 
favorite  with  Caonabo. 

Ojeda  now  used  all  his  influence  to  prevail 
upon  the  cacique  to  repair  to  Isabella,  for  the 
purpose  of  making  a  treaty  with  Columbus,  and 
becoming  the  ally  and  friend  of  the  Spaniards. 
It  is  said  that  he  offered  him,  as  a  lure,  the  bell 
"of  the  chapel  of  Isabella.  This  bell  was  the  won- 
der of  the  island.  When  the  Indians  heard  it 
ringing  for  mass,  and  beheld  the  Spaniards 
hastening  toward  the  chapel,  they  imagined  that 
it  talked,  and  that  the  white  men  obeyed  it.  Re- 

*  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  Gio.  Battista  Spo- 
torno,  in  his  Memoir  of  Columbus,  has  been  led  into 
an  error  by  the  name  of  this  Indian,  and  observes  that 
Columbus  had  a  brother  named  Diego,  of  whom  he 
seemed  to  be  ashamed,  and  whom  he  married  to  the 
daughter  of  an  Indian  chief. 


garding  with  superstition  all  things  connected 
with  the  Spaniards,  they  looked  upon  this  bell  as 
something  supernatural,  and  in  their  usual  phrase 
said  it  had  come  from  "Turey,"  or  the  skies. 
Caonabo  had  heard  the  bell  at  a  distance,  in  his 
prowlings  about  the  settlement,  and  had  longed 
to  see  it  ;  but  when  it  was  proffered  to  him  as  a 
present  of  peace,  he  found  it  impossible  to  resist 
the  temptation.  He  agreed,  therefore,  to  set  out 
for  Isabella  ;  but  when  the  time  came  to  depart 
Ojeda  beheld  with  surprise  a  powerful  force  of 
warriors  assembled  and  ready  to  march.  He 
asked  the  meaning  of  taking  such  an  army  on  a 
mere  friendly  visit  ;  the  cacique  proudly  replied 
that  it  did  not  befit  a  great  prince  like  himself  to 
go  forth  scantily  attended.  Ojeda  was  little  satis- 
lied  with  this  reply  ;  he  knew  the  warlike  charac- 
ter of  Caonabo,  and  his  deep  subtlety  ;  he  feared 
some  sinister  design — a  surprise  of  the  fortress  of 
Isabella,  or  an  attempt  upon  the  person  of  the  ad- 
miral. He  knew  also  that  it  was  the  wish  of  Co- 
lumbus either  to  make  peace  with  the  cacique,  or 
to  get  possession  of  his  person  without  the  alterna- 
tive of  open  warfare.  He  had  recourse  to  a  strata- 
gem, therefore,  which  has  an  air  of  fable  and  ro- 
mance, but  which  is  recorded  by  all  the  contem- 
porary historians  with  trivial  variations,  and 
which,  Las  Casas  assures  us,  was  in  current  cir- 
culation in  the  island  when  he  arrived  there, 
about  six  years  after  the  event.  It  accords  too 
with  the  adventurous  and  extravagant  character 
of  the  man,  and  with  the  wild  stratagems  and 
vaunting  exploits  incident  to  Indian  warfare. 

In  the  course  of  their  march,  having  halted  near 
the  Little  Yagui,  a  considerable  branch  of  the 
Xeyba,  Ojeda  one  day  produced  a  set  of  manacles 
of  polished  steel,  so  highly  burnished  that  they 
looked  like  silver.  These  he  assured  Caonabo 
were  royal  ornaments  which  had  come  from 
heaven,  or  the  Turey  of  Biscay  ;  *  that  they  were 
worn  by  the  monarchsof  Castile  on  solemn  dances 
and  other  high  festivities,  and  were  intended  as 
presents  to  the  cacique.  He  proposed  that  Cao- 
nabo should  go  to  the  river  and  bathe,  after  which 
he  should  be  decorated  with  these  ornaments, 
mounted  on  the  horse  of  Ojeda,  and  should  re- 
turn in  the  state  of  a  Spanish  monarch,  to  aston- 
ish his  subjects.  The  cacique  was  dazzled  with 
the  glitter  of  the  manacles,  and  flattered  with  the 
idea  of  bestriding  one  of  those  tremendous  ani- 
mals so  dreaded  by  his  countrymen.  He  repaired 
to  the  river,  and  having  bathed,  was  assisted  to 
mount  behind  Ojeda,  and  the  shackles  were  ad- 
justed. Ojeda  made  several  circuits  to  gain 
space,  followed  by  his  little  band  of  horsemen,  the 
Indians  shrinking  back  from  the  prancing  steeds. 
At  length  he  made  a  wide  sweep  into  the  forest, 
until  the  trees  concealed  him  from  the  sight  of  the 
army.  His  followers  then  closed  round  him,  and 
drawing  their  swords,  threatened  Caonabo  with 
instant  death  if  he  made  the  least  noise  or  resist- 
ance. Binding  him  with  cords  to  Ojeda  to  pre- 
vent his  falling  or  effecting  an  escape,  they  put 
spurs  to  their  horses,  dashed  across  the  river,  and 
made  off  through  the  woods  with  their  prize. f 


*  The  principal  iron  manufactories  of  Spain  are  es- 
tablished in  Biscay,  where  the  ore  is  found  in  abun- 
dance. 

f  This  romantic  exploit  of  Ojeda  is  recorded  at 
large  by  Las  Casas  ;  by  his  copyist  Herrera  (decad.  i. 
lib.  ii.  cap.  16)  ;  by  Fernando  Pizarro,  in  his  Varones 
Illustrds  del  Nuevo  Mundo  ;  and  by  Charlevoix  in  his 
History  of  St.  Domingo.  Peter  Martyr  and  others 
have  given  it  more  concisely,  alluding  to,  but  not  in- 
serting  its  romantic  details. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


119 


They  had  now  fifty  or  sixty  leagues  of  wilder- 
ness to  traverse  on  their  way  homeward,  with  here 
and  there  large  Indian  towns.  They  had  borne 
off  their  captive  far  beyond  the  pursuit  of  his  sub- 
jects ;  but  the  utmost  vigilance  was  requisite  to 
prevent  his  escape  during  this  long  and  toilsome 
journey,  and  to  avoid  exciting  the  hostilities  of  any 
confederate  cacique.  They  had  to  shun  the  popu- 
lous parts  of  the  country  therefore,  or  to  pass 
through  the  Indian  towns  at  full  gallop.  They 
suffered  greatly  from  fatigue,  hunger,  and  watch- 
fulness ;  encountering  many  perils,  fording  and 
swimming  the  numerous  rivers  of  the  plains,  toil- 
ing through  the  deep  tangled  forests,  and  clam- 
bering over  the  high  and  rocky  mountains.  They 
accomplished  all  in  safety,  and  Ojeda  entered  Isa- 
bella in  triumph  from  this  most  daring  and  char- 
acteristic enterprise,  with  his  wild  Indian  bound 
behind. 

Columbus  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  his 
great  satisfaction  when  this  dangerous  foe  was  de- 
livered into  his  hands.  The  haughty  Carib  met 
him  with  a  lofty  and  unsubdued  air,  disdaining 
to  conciliate  him  by  submission,  or  to  deprecate 
his  vengeance  for  the  blood  of  white  men  which 
he  had  shed.  He  never  bowed  his  spirit  to  cap- 
tivity ;  on  the  contrary,  though  completely  at  the 
mercy  of  the  Spaniards,  he  displayed  that  boasting 
defiance  which  is  a  part  of  Indian  heroism,  and 
which  the  savage  maintains  toward  his  tor- 
mentors, even  amid  the  agonies  of  the  fagot  and 
the  stake.  He  vaunted  his  achievement  in  sur- 
prising and  burning  the  fortress  of  Nativity,  and 
slaughtering  its  garrison,  and  declared  that  he 
had  secretly  reconnoitred  Isabella,  with  an  inten- 
tion of  wreaking  upon  it  the  same  desolation. 

Columbus,  though  struck  with  the  heroism  of 
the  chieftain,  considered  him  a  dangerous  enemy, 
whom,  for  the  peace  of  the  island,  it  was  advisa- 
ble to  send  to  Spain  ;  in  the  meantime  he  ordered 
that  he  should  be  treated  with  kindness  and  re- 
spect, and  lodged  him  in  a  part  of  his  own  dwell- 
ing, where,  however,  he  kept  him  a  prisoner  in 
chains.  This  precaution  must  have  been  neces- 
sary, from  the  insecurity  of  his  prison  ;  for  Las 
Casas  observes  that  the  admiral's  house  not 
being  spacious,  nor  having  many  chambers,  the 
passers  by  in  the  street  could  see  the  captive  chief- 
tain from  the  portal.* 

Caonabo  always  maintained  a  haughty  deport- 
ment toward  Columbus,  while  he  never  evinced 
the  least  animosity  against  Ojeda.  He  rather  ad- 
mired the  latter  as  a  consummate  warrior,  for 
having  pounced  upon  him  and  borne  him  off  in 
this  hawk-like  manner  from  the  very  midst  of  his 
fighting-men. 

When  Columbus  entered  the  apartment  where 
Caonabo  was  confined,  all  present  rose,  according 
to  custom,  and  paid  him  reverence  ;  the  cacique 
alone  neither  moved  nor  took  any  notice  of  him. 
On  the  contrary,  when  Ojeda  entered,  though 
small  in  person  and  without  external  state,  Cao- 
nabo rose  and  saluted  him  with  profound  respect. 
On  being  askecl  the  reason  of  this,  Columbus  being 
Guamiquina,  or  great  chief  over  all,  and  Ojeda  but 
one  of  his  subjects,  the  proud  Carib  replied  that 
the  admiral  had  never  dared  to  come  personally 
to  his  house  and  seize  him  ;  it  was  only  through 
the  valor  of  Ojeda  he  was  his  prisoner  ;  to  Ojeda, 
therefore,  he  owed  reverence,  not  to  the  admiral. | 

The  captivity  of  Caonabo  was  deeply  felt  by  his 
subjects,  for  the  natives  of  this  island  seem  gen- 

*  La  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  Jib.  i.  cap.  102. 
f  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup.,  cap.  102. 


erally  to  have  been  extremely  loyal,  and  strongly 
attached  to  their  caciques.  One  of  the  brothers 
of  Caonabo,  a  warrior  of  great  courage  and  ad- 
dress, and  very  popular  among  the  Indians,  as- 
sembled an  army  of  more  than  seven  thousand 
men  and  led  them  secretly  to  the  neighbohood  of 
St.  Thomas,  where  Ojeda  was  again  in  command. 
His  intention  was  to  surprise  a  number  of  Span- 
iards, in  hopes  of  obtaining  his  brother  in  ex- 
change for  them.  Ojeda,  as  usual,  had  notice  of 
the  design,  but  was  not  to  be  again  shut  up  in  his 
fortress.  Having  been  reinforced  by  a  detach- 
ment sent  by  the  Adelantado,  he  left  a  sufficient 
force  in  garrison,  and  with  the  remainder,  and  his 
little  troop  of  horse,  set  off  boldly  to  meet  the  sav- 
ages. The  brother  of  Caonabo,  when  he  saw  the 
Spaniards  approaching,  showed  some  military 
skill,  disposing  his  army  in  five  battalions.  The 
impetuous  attack  of  Ojeda,  however,  with  his 
handful  of  horsemen,  threw  the  Indian  warriors 
into  sudden  panic.  At  the  furious  onset  of  these 
steel-clad  beings,  wielding  their  flashing  weapons, 
and  bestriding  what  appeared  to  be  ferocious 
beasts  of  prey,  they  threw  down  their  weapons  and 
took  to  flight  ;  many  were  slain,  more  were  taken 
prisoners,  and  among  the  latter  was  the  brother 
of  Caonabo,  bravely  fighting  in  a  righteous  yet 
desperate  cause.* 


CHAPTER  V. 

ARRIVAL  OF  ANTONIO  DE  TORRES  WITH  FOUR 
SHIPS  FROM  SPAIN — HIS  RETURN  WITH  INDIAN 
SLAVES. 

[H94.] 

THE  colony  was  still  suffering  greatly  from 
want  of  provisions  ;  the  European  stock  was  near- 
ly exhausted,  and  such  was  the  idleness  and  im- 
providence of  the  colonists,  or  the  confusion  into 
which  they  had  been  thrown  by  the  hostilities  of 
the  natives,  or  such  was  their  exclusive  eager- 
ness after  the  precious  metals,  that  they  seem  to 
have  neglected  the  true  wealth  of  the  island,  its 
quick  and  productive  soil,  and  to  have  been  in 
constant  danger  of  famine,  though  in  the  midst  of 
fertility. 

At  le'ngth  they  were  relieved  by  the  arrival  of 
four  ships  commanded  by  Antonio  Torres,  which 
brought  an  ample  supply  of  provisions.  There 
were  also  a  physician  and  an  apothecary,  whose 
aid  was  greatly  needed  in  the  sickly  state  of  the 
colony  ;  but  above  all,  there  were  mechanics, 
millers,  fishermen,  gardeners,  and  husbandmen — 
the  true  kind  of  population  for  a  colony. 

Torres  brought  letters  from  the  sovereigns 
(dated  August  i6th,  1494)  of  the  most  gratifying 
kind,  expressing  the  highest  satisfaction  at  the  ac- 
counts sent  home  by  the  admiral,  and  acknowl- 
edging that  everything  in  the  course  of  his  discov- 
eries had  turned  out  as  he  had  predicted.  They 
evinced  the  liveliest  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the 
colony,  and  a  desire  of  receiving  frequent  intelli- 
gence as  to  his  situation,  proposing  that  a  caravel 
should  sail  each  month  from  Isabella  and  Spain. 
They  informed  him  that  all  differences  with  Por- 
tugal were  amicably  adjusted,  and  acquainted 
him  with  the  conventional  agreement  with  that 
power  relative  to  a  geographical  line,  separating 
their  newly-discovered  possessions  ;  requesting 


*  Oviedo,   Cronica  de  los  Indias,   lib.   iii.  cap.    I. 
Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  ii.  p.  131. 


120 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


him  to  respect  this  agreement  in  the  course 
of  his  discoveries.  As  in  adjusting  the  arrange- 
ment with  Portugal,  and  in  drawing  the  proposed 
line,  it  was  important  to  have  the  best  advice,  the 
sovereigns  requested  Columbus  to  return  and  be 
present  at  the  convention  ;  or,  in  case  that  should 
be  inconvenient,  to  send  his  brother  Bartholomew, 
or  any  other  person  whom  he  should  consider 
fully  competent,  furnished  with  suph  maps,  charts, 
and  designs  as  might  be  of  service  in  the  negoti- 
ation.* 

There  was  another  letter,  addressed  generally 
to  the  inhabitants  of  the  colony,  and  to  all  who 
should  proceed  on  voyages  of  discovery,  com- 
manding them  to  obey  Columbus  as  implicitly  as 
they  would  the  sovereigns  themselves,  under  pain 
of  their  high  displeasure  and  a  fine  of  ten  thousand 
maravedies  for  each  offence. 

Such  was  the  well-merited  confidence  reposed 
at  this  moment  by  the  sovereigns  in  Columbus, 
but  which  was  soon  to  be  blighted  by  the  insid- 
ious reports  of  worthless  men.  He  was  already 
aware  of  the  complaints  and  misrepresentations 
which  had  been  sent  home  from  the  colony,  and 
which  would  be  enforced  by  Margarite  and  Friar 
Boyle.  He  was  aware  that  his  standing  in  Spain 
was  of  that  uncertain  kind  which  a  stranger  al- 
ways possesses  in  the  service  of  a  foreign  country, 
where  he  has  no  friends  nor  connections  to  sup- 
port him,  and  where  even  his  very  merits  increase 
the  eagerness  of  envy  to  cast  him  down.  His  efforts 
to  promote  the  working  of  the  mines,  and  to  ex- 
plore the  resources  of  the  island,  had  been  im- 
peded by  the  misconduct  of  Margarite  and  the  dis- 
orderly life  of  the  Spaniards  in  general,  yet  he  ap- 
prehended that  the  very  evils  which  they  had  pro- 
duced would  be  alleged  against  him,  and  the 
want  of  profitable  returns  be  cited  to  discredit  and 
embarrass  his  expeditions. 

To  counteract  any  misrepresentations  of  the 
kind,  Columbus  hastened  the  return  of  the  ships, 
and  would  have  returned  with  them,  not  merely 
to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  the  sovereigns  in  be- 
ing present  at  the  settlement  of  the  geographical 
line,  but  to  vindicate  himself  and  his  enterprises 
from  the  aspersions  of  his  enemies.  The  malady, 
however,  which  confined  him  to  his  bed  prevented 
his  departure  ;  and  his  brother  Bartholomew  was 
required  to  aid,  with  his  practical  good  sense 
and  his  resolute  spirit,  in  regulating  the  disordered 
affairs  of  the  island.  It  was  determined,  there- 
fore, to  send  home  his  brother  Diego,  to  attend  to 
the  wishes  of  the  sovereigns,  and  to  take  care  of 
his  interests  at  court.  At  the  same  time  he  exert- 
ed himself  to  the  utmost  to  send  by  the  ships  sat- 
isfactory proofs  of  the  value  of  his  discoveries.  He 
remitted  by  them  all  the  gold  that  he  could  col- 
lect, with  specimens  of  other  metals,  and  of  vari- 
ous fruits  and  valuable  plants,  which  he  had  col- 
lected either  in  Hispaniola  or  in  the  course  of  his 
voyage.  In  his  eagerness  to  produce  immediate 
profit,  and  to  indemnify  the  sovereigns  for  those 
expenses  which  bore  hard  upon  the  royal  treas- 
ury, he  sent,  likewise,  above  five  hundred  Indian 
prisoners,  who,  he  suggested,  might  be  sold  as 
slaves  at  Seville. 

It  is  painful  to  find  the  brilliant  renown  of  Co- 
lumbus sullied  by  so  foul  a  stain.  The  customs 
of  the  times,  however,  must  be  pleaded  in  his 
apology.  The  precedent  had  been  given  long  be- 
fore, by  both  Spaniards  and  Portuguese,  in  their 
African  discoveries,  wherein  the  traffic  in  slaves 
had  formed  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  profit. 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  17. 


In  fact,  the  practice  had  been  sanctioned  by  the 
church  itself,  and  the  most  learned  theologians 
had  pronounced  all  barbarous  and  infidel  nations, 
who  shut  their  ears  to  the  truths  of  Christianity, 
fair  objects  of  war  and  rapine,  of  captivity  and 
slavery.  If  Columbus  needed  any  practical  illus- 
tration of  this  doctrine,  he  had  it  in  the  conduct 
of  Ferdinand  himself,  in  his  late  wars  with  the 
Moors  of  Granada,  in  which  he  had  always  been 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  ghostly  advisers,  and 
had  professed  to  do  everything  for  the  glory  and 
advancement  of  the  faith.  In  this  holy  war,  as  it 
was  termed,  it  was  a  common  practice  to  make 
inroads  into  the  Moorish  territories  and  carry  off 
ctrvalgadas,  not  merely  of  flocks  and  herds,  but 
of  human  beings,  and  those  not  warriors  taken 
with  weapons  in  their  hands,  but  quiet  villagers, 
laboring  peasantry,  and  helpless  women  and  chil- 
dren. These  were  carried  to  the  mart  at  Seville, 
or  to  other  populous  towns,  and  sold  into  slavery. 
The  capture  of  Malaga  was  a  memorable  instance, 
where,  as  a  punishment  for  an  obstinate  and 
brave  defence,  which  should  have  excited  admira- 
tion rather  than  revenge,  eleven  thousand  people 
of  both  sexes,  and  of  all  ranks  and  ages,  many  of 
them  highly  cultivated  and  delicately  reared,  were 
suddenly  torn  from  their  homes,  severed  from 
each  other,  and  swept  into  menial  slavery,  even 
though  half  of  their  ransoms  had  been  paid. 
These  circumstances  are  not  advanced  to  vindi- 
cate, but  to  palliate  the  conduct  of  Columbus. 
He  acted  but  in  conformity  to  the  customs  of  the 
times,  and  was  sanctioned  by  the  example  of  the 
sovereign  under  whom  he  served.  Las  Casas,  the 
zealous  and  enthusiastic  advocate  of  the  Indians, 
who  suffers  no  opportunity  to  escape  him  of  ex- 
claiming in  vehement  terms  against  their  slavery, 
speaks  with  indulgence  of  Columbus  on  this  head. 
It  those  pious  and  learned  men,  he  observes, 
whom  the  sovereigns  took  for  guides  and  in- 
structors, were  so  ignorant  of  the  injustice  ot  this 
practice,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the  unlettered  ad- 
miral should  not  be  conscious  ot  its  impropriety.* 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EXPEDITION  OF  COLUMBUS  AGAINST  THE  INDIANS 
OF  THE  VEGA — BATTLE. 

[I494-] 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  defeat  of  the  Indians 
by  Ojeda,  they  still  retained  hostile  intentions 
against  the  Spaniards.  The  idea  of  their  cacique 
being  a  prisoner  and  in  chains  enraged  the  na- 
tives ot  Maguana  ;  and  the  general  sympathy- 
manifested  by  other  tribes  ot  the  island  shows 
how  widely  that  intelligent  savage  had  extended 
his  influence,  and  how  greatly  he  was  admired. 
He  had  still  active  and  powertul  relatives  remain- 
ing, to  attempt  his  rescue,  or  revenge  his  fall. 
One  of  his  brothers,  Manicaotex  byname,  a  Carib, 
bold  and  warlike  as  himself,  succeeded  to  the 
sway  over  his  subjects.  His  favorite  wife  also, 
Anacaona,  so  famous  for  her  charms,  had  great 
influence  over  her  brother  Behecio,  cacique  of  the 
populous  province  of  Xaragua.  Through  these 
means  a  violent  and  general  hostility  to  the  Span- 
iards was  excited  throughout  the  island,  and  the 
formidable  league  of  the  caciques,  which  Caonabo 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  torn.  i.  cap.  122,  MS. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


121 


had  in  vain  attempted  to  accomplish  when  at 
large,  was  produced  by  his  captivity.  Guacana- 
gari,  the  cacique  of  Marien,  alone  remained 
friendly  to  the  Spaniards,  giving  them  timely  in- 
formation of  the  gathering  storm  and  offering  to 
take  the  field  with  them  as  a  faithful  ally. 

The  protracted  illness  of  Columbus,  the  scanti- 
ness of  his  military  force,  and  the  wretched  state 
of  the  colonists  in  general,  reduced  by  sickness 
and  scarcity  to  great  bodily  weakness,  had  hitherto 
induced  him  to  try  every  means  of  conciliation 
and  stratagem  to  avert  and  dissolve  the  confed- 
eracy. He  had  at  length  recovered  his  health, 
and  his  followers  were  in  some  degree  refreshed 
and  invigorated  by  the  supplies  brought  by  the 
ships.  At  this  time  he  received  the  intelligence 
that  the  allied  caciques  were  actually  assembled 
in  great  force  in  the  Vega,  within  two  days' 
march  of  Isabella,  with  an  intention  of  making  a 
general  assault  upon  the  settlement,  and  over- 
whelming it  by  numbers.  Columbus  resolved  to 
take  the  iield  at  once,  and  to  carry  the  war  into 
the  territories  of  the  enemy,  rather  than  surfer  it 
to  be  brought  to  his  own  door. 

The  whole  sound  and  effective  force  that  he 
could  muster,  in  the  present  infirm  state  of  the 
colony,  did  not  exceed  two  hundred  infantry  and 
twenty  horse.  They  were  armed  with  cross-bows, 
swords,  lances,  and  espingardas,  or  heavy  arque- 
buses, which  in  those  days  were  used  with  rests, 
and  sometimes  mounted  on  wheels.  With  these 
formidable  weapons,  a  handful  of  European  war- 
riors, cased  in  steel  and  covered  with  bucklers, 
were  able  to  cope  with  thousands  of  naked  sav- 
ages. They  had  aid  of  another  kind,  however, 
consisting  of  twenty  bloodhounds,  animals  scarce- 
ly less  terrible  to  the  Indians  than  the  horses,  and 
infinitely  more  fatal.  They  were  fearless  and 
ferocious  ;  nothing  daunted  them,  nor  when  they 
had  once  seized  upon  their  prey  could  anything 
compel  them  to  relinquish  their  hold.  The  naked 
bodies  of  the  Indians  offered  no  defence  against 
their  attacks.  They  sprang  on  them,  dragged 
them  to  the  earth,  and  tore  them  to  pieces. 

The  admiral  was  accompanied  in  the  expedition 
by  his  Brother  Bartholomew,  whose  counsel  and 
aid  he  sought  on  all  occasions,  and  who  had  not 
merely  great  personal  force  and  undaunted  cour- 
age, but  also  a  decidedly  military  turn  of  mind. 
Guacanagari  also  brought  his  people  into  the  field  ; 
neither  he  nor  his  subjects,  however,  were  of  a 
warlike  character,  nor  calculated  to  render  much 
assistance.  The  chief  advantage  of  his  co-opera- 
tion was,  that  it  completely  severed  him  from  the 
other  caciques,  and  insured  the  dependence  of 
himself  and  his  subjects  upon  the  Spaniards.  In 
the  present  infant  state  of  the  colony  its  chief  se- 
curity depended  upon  jealousies  and  dissensions 
sown  among  the  native  powers  of  the  island. 

On  the  27th  of  March,  1495,  Columbus  issued 
forth  from  Isabella  with  his  little  army,  and  ad- 
vanced by  marches  of  ten  leagues  a  day  in  quest 
of  the  enemy.  He  ascended  again  to  the  moun- 
tain-pass of  the  Cavaliers,  whence  he  had  first 
looked  down  upon  the  Vega.  With  what  different 
feelings  did  he  now  contemplate  it.  The  vile  pas- 
sions of  the  white  men  had  already  converted  this 
smiling,  beautiful,  and  once  peaceful  and  hospita- 
ble region,  into  a  land  of  wrath  and  hostility. 
Wherever  the  smoke  of  an  Indian  town  rose  from 
among  the  trees,  it  marked  a  horde  of  exasperat- 
ed enemies,  and  the  deep  rich  forests  below  him 
swarmed  with  lurking  warriors.  In  the  picture 
which  his  imagination  had  drawn  of  the  peaceful 
and  inoffensive  nature  of  this  people,  he  had  flat- 


tered himself  with  the  idea  of  ruling  over  them  as 
a  patron  and  benefactor,  but  now  he  found  himself 
compelled  to  assume  the  odious  character  of  a 
conqueror. 

The  Indians  had  notice  by  their  scouts  of  his 
approach,  but  though  they  had  already  had  some 
slight  experience  of  the  warfare  of  the  white  men, 
they  were  confident  from  the  vast  superiority  of 
their  numbers,  which,  it  is  said,  amounted  to  one 
hundred  thousand  men.*  This  is  probably  an 
exaggeration  ;  as  Indians  never  draw  out  into  the 
open  field  in  order  of  battle,  but  lurk  among  the 
forests,  it  is  difficult  to  ascertain  their  force,  and 
their  rapid  movements  and  sudden  sallies  and  re- 
treats from  various  parts,  together  with  the  wild 
shouts  and  yells  from  opposite  quarters  of  the 
woodlands,  are  calculated  to  give  an  exaggerated 
idea  of  their  number.  The  army  must,  however, 
have  been  great,  as  it  consisted  of  the  combined 
forces  of  several  caciques  of  this  populous  island. 
It  was  commanded  by  Manicaotex,  the  brother  of 
Caonabo.  The  Indians,  who  were  little  skilled  in 
numeration  and  incapable  of  reckoning  beyond 
ten,  had  a  simple  mode  of  ascertaining  and  de- 
scribing the  force  of  an  enemy,  by  counting  out  a 
grain  of  maize  or  Indian  corn  for  every  warrior. 
When,  therefore,  the  spies,  who  had  watched  from 
rocks  and  thickets  the  march  of  Columbus,  came 
back  with  a  mere  handful  of  corn  as  the  amount 
of  his  army,  the  caciques  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  so 
scanty  a  number  making  head  against  their  count- 
less multitude.! 

Columbus  drew  near  to  the  enemy  about  the 
place  where  the  town  of  St.  Jago  has  since  been 
built.  The  Indian  army,  under  Manicaotex,  was 
posted  on  a  plain  interspersed  with  clusters  of 
forest  trees,  now  known  as  the  Savanna  of  Ma- 
tanza.  Having  ascertained  the  great  force  of  the 
enemy,  Don  Bartholomew  advised  that  their  little 
army  should  be  divided  into  detachments,  and 
should  attack  the  Indians  at  the  same  mdment 
from  several  quarters  ;  this  plan  was  adopted. 
The  infantry,  separating  into  different  bodies, 
advanced  suddenly  from  various  directions  with 
great  din  of  drums  and  trumpets,  and  a  destruc- 
tive discharge  of  firearms  from  the  covert  of  the 
trees.  The  Indians  were  thrown  into  complete 
confusion.  An  army  seemed  pressing  upon  them 
from  every  quarter,  their  fellow-warriors  to  be 
laid  low  with  thunder  and  lightning  from  the  for- 
ests. While  driven  together  and  confounded  by 
these  attacks,  Alonzo  de  Ojeda  charged  their  main 
body  impetuously  with  his  troop  of  cavalry,  cut- 
ting his  way  with  lance  and  sabre.  The  horses 
bore  down  the  terrified  Indians,  while  their  riders 
dealt  their  blows  on  all  sides  unopposed.  The 
bloodhounds  at  the  same  time  rushed  upon  the 
naked  savages,  seizing  them  by  the  throat,  drag- 
ging them  to  the  earth,  and  tearing  out  their 
bowels.  The  Indians,  unaccustomed  to  large  and 
fierce  quadrupeds  of  any  kind,  were  struck  with 
horror  when  assailed  by  these  ferocious  animals. 
They  thought  the  horses  equally  fierce  and  de- 
vouring. The  contest,  if  such  it  might  be  called, 
was  of  short  duration. 

The  Indians  fled  in  every  direction  with  yells 
and  howlings  ;  some  clambered  to  the  top  of 
rocks  and  precipices,  whence  they  made  piteous 
supplications,  and  offers  of  complete  submission  ; 
many  were  killed,  many  made  prisoners,  and  the 
confederacy  was  for  the  time  completely  broken 
up  and  dispersed. 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  104,  MS. 
f  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup. 


123 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


Guacanagari  had  accompanied  the  Spaniards 
into  the  field  according  to  his  promise,  but  he 
was  little  more  than  a  spectator  of  this  battle  or 
rather  rout.  He  was  not  of  a  martial  spirit,  and 
both  he  and  his  subjects  must  have  shrunk  with 
awe  at  this  unusual  and  terrific  burst  of  war,  even 
though  on  the  part  of  their  allies.  His  participa- 
tion in  the  hostilities  of  the  white  men  was  never 
forgiven  by  the  other  caciques,  and  he  returned 
to  his  dominions,  followed  by  the  hatred  and  exe- 
crations of  all  the  islanders. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

SUBJUGATION  OF    THE    NATIVES — IMPOSITION  OF 
TRIBUTE. 

[H94-] 

COLUMBUS  followed  up  his  victory  by  making  a 
military  tour  through  various  parts  of  the  island, 
and  reducing  them  to  obedience.  The  natives 
made  occasional  attempts  at  opposition,  but  were 
easily  checked.  Ojeda's  troop  of  cavalry  was  of 
great  efficacy  from  the  rapidity  of  its  movements, 
the  active  intrepidity  of  its  commander,  and  the 
terror  inspired  by  the  horses.  There  was  no  ser- 
vice too  wild  and  hazardous  forOjeda.  If  any  ap- 
pearance of  war  arose  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
country,  he  would  penetrate  with  his  little  squad- 
ron of  cavalry  through  the  depths  of  the  forests, 
and  fall  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  enemy,  dis- 
concerting all  their  combinations  and  enforcing 
implicit  submission. 

The  Royal  Vega  was  soon  brought  into  subjec- 
tion. Being  an  immense  plain,  perfectly  level,  it 
was  easily  overrun  by  the  horsemen,  whose  ap- 
pearance overawed  the  most  populous  villages. 
Guarionex,  its  sovereign  cacique,  was  of  a  mild 
and  placable  character,  and  though  he  had  been 
roused  to  war  by  the  instigation  of  the  neighbor- 
ing chieftains,  he  readily  submitted  to  the  domina- 
tion of  the  Spaniards.  Manicaotex,  the  brother 
of  Caonabo,  was  also  obliged  to  sue  for  peace  ; 
and  being  the  prime  mover  of  the  confederacy,\ 
the  other  caciques  followed  his  example.  Behe- 
chio  alone,  the  cacique  of  Xaragua,  and  brother- 
in-law  of  Caonabo,  made  no  overtures  of  submis- 
sion. His  territories  lay  remote  from  Isabella,  at 
the  western  extremity  of  the  island,  around  the 
deep  bay  called  the  Bight  of  Leogan,  and  the  long 
peninsula  called  Cape  Tiburon.  They  were  diffi- 
cult of  access,  and  had  not  as  yet  been  visited  by 
the  white  men.  He  retired  into  his  domains,  tak- 
ing with  him  his  sister,  the  beautiful  Anacaona, 
wife  of  Caonabo,  whom  he  cherished  with  frater- 
nal affection  under  her  misfortunes,  who  soon  ac- 
quired almost  equal  sway  over  his  subjects  with 
himself,  and  was  destined  subsequently  to  make 
some  figure  in  the  events  of  the  island. 

Having  been  forced  to  take  the  field  by  the  con- 
federacy of  the  caciques,  Columbus  now  asserted 
the  right  of  a  conqueror,  and  considered  now  he 
might  turn  his  conquest  to  most  profit.  His  con- 
stant anxiety  was  to  make  wealthy  returns  t9 
Spain,  for  the  purpose  of  indemnifying  the  sover- 
eigns for  their  great  expenses  ;  of  meeting  the 
public  expectations,  so  extravagantly  excited  ;  and 
above  all  of  silencing  the  calumnies  of  those  who 
had  gone  home  determined  to  make  the  most  dis- 
couraging representations  of  his  discoveries.  He 
.endeavored,  therefore,  to  raise  a  large  and  imme- 
diate revenue  by  imposing  heavy  tributes  on  the 


subjected  provinces.  In  those  of  the  Vega,  Cibao, 
and  all  the  region  of  the  mines,  each  individual 
above  the  age  of  fourteen  years  was  required  to 
pay,  every  three  months,  the  measure  of  a  Flem- 
ish hawk's-bell  of  gold  dust.*  The  caciques  had 
to  pay  a  much  larger  amount  for  their  personal 
tribute.  Manicaotex,  the  brother  of  Caonabo,  was 
obliged  individually  to  render  in,  every  three 
months,  half  a  calabash  of  gold,  amounting  to 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pesos.  In  those  districts 
which  were  distant  from  the  mines,  and  produced 
no  gold,  each  individual  was  required  to  furnish 
an  arroba  (twenty-five  pounds)  of  cotton  every 
three  months.  Each  Indian,  on  rendering  this 
tribute,  received  a  copper  medal  as  a  certificate 
of  payment,  which  he  was  to  wear  suspended 
round  his  neck  ;  those  who  were  found  without 
such  documents  were  liable  to  arrest  and  punish- 
ment. 

The  taxes  and  tributes  thus  imposed  bore  hard 
upon  the  spirit  of  the  natives,  accustomed  to  be 
but  lightly  taxed  by  their  caciques  ;  and  the  ca- 
ciques themselves  found  the  exactions  intolerably 
grievous.  Guarionex,  the  sovereign  of  the  Royal 
Vega,  represented  to  Columbus  the  difficulty  he 
had  in  complying  with  the  terms  of  his  tribute. 
His  richly  fertile  plain  yielded  no  gold  ;  and 
though  the  mountains  on  his  borders  contained 
mines,  and  their  brooks  and  torrents  washed  down 
gold  dust  into  the  sands  of  the  rivers,  yet  his  sub- 
jects were  not  skilled  in  the  art  of  collecting  it. 
He  proffered,  therefore,  instead  of  the  tribute  re- 
quired, to  cultivate  with  grain  a  band  of  country 
stretching  across  the  island  from  sea  to  sea, 
enough,  says  Las  Casas,  to  have  furnished  all 
Castile  with  bread  for  ten  years. f 

His  offer  was  rejected.  Columbus  knew  that 
gold  alone  would  satisfy  the  avaricious  dreams 
excited  in  Spain,  and  insure  the  popularity  and 
success  of  his  enterprises.  Seeing,  however,  the 
difficulty  that  many  of  the  Indians  had  in  furnish- 
ing the  amount  of  gold  dust  required,  he  lowered 
the  demand  to  the  measure  of  one  half  of  a 
hawk's-bell. 

To  enforce  the  payment  of  these  tributes,  and 
to  maintain  the  subjection  ot  the  island,  Colum- 
bus put  the  fortress  already  built  in  a  strong  state 
of  defence,  and  erected  others.  Besides  those  of 
Isabella,  and  of  St.  Thomas,  in  the  mountains  of 
Cibao,  there  were  no\v  the  fortress  of  Magdalena, 
in  the  Royal  Vega,  near  the  site  of  the  old  town 
of  Santiago,  on  the  river  Jalaqua,  two  leagues 
from  the  place  where  the  new  town  was  afterward 
built  ;  another  called  Santa  Catalina,  the  site  of 
which  is  near  the  Estencia  Yaqui  ;  another  called 
Esperanza,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Yaqui,  facing 
the  outlet  of  the  mountain  pass  La  Puerta  de  los 
Hidalgos,  now  the  pass  of  Marney  ;  but  the  most 
important  of  those  recently  erected  was  Fort  Con- 
ception, in  one  of  the  most  fruitful  and  beautiful 
parts  of  the  Vega,  about  fifteen  leagues  to  the  east 
of  Esperanza,  controlling  the  extensive  and  popu- 
lous domains  of  Guarionex.J 

In  this  way  was  the  yoke  of  servitude  fixed  upon 


*  A  hawk's-bell,  according  to  Las  Casas  (Hist.  Ind., 
lib.  i.  cap.  105),  contains  about  three  castellanos'  worth 
of  gold  dust,  equal  to  five  dollars,  and  in  estimating 
the  superior  value  of  gold  in  those  days,  equivalent  to 
fifteen  dollars  of  our  time.  A  quantity  of  gold  worth 
one  hundred  and  fifty  castellanos  was  equivalent  to 
seven  hundred  and  ninety-eight  dollars  of  the  present 
day. 

|  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.   105. 

j  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup.,  cap.  no. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


123 


the  island,  and  its  thralldom  effectually  insured. 
Deep  despair  now  fell  upon  the  natives  when  they 
found  a  perpetual  task  inflicted  upon  them,  en- 
forced at  stated  and  frequently  recurring  periods. 
Weak  and  indolent  by  nature,  unused  to  labor  of 
any  kind,  and  brought  up  in  the  untasked  idleness 
of  their  soft  climate  and  their  fruitful  groves, 
death  itself  seemed  preferable  to  a  life  of  toil  and 
anxiety.  They  saw  no  end  to  this  harassing  evil, 
which  had  so  suddenly  fallen  upon  them  ;  no  es- 
cape from  its  all-pervading  influence  ;  no  pros- 
pect of  return  to  that  roving  independence  and 
ample  leisure,  so  dear  to  the  wild  inhabitants  of 
the  forest.  The  pleasant  life  of  the  island  was  at 
an  end  :  the  dream  in  the  shade  by  day  ;  the 
slumber  during  the  sultry  noontide  heat  by  the 
fountain  or  the  stream,  or  under  .the  spreading 
palm-tree  ;  and  the  song,  the  dance,  and  the 
game  in  the  mellow  evening,  when  summoned  to 
their  simple  amusements  by  the  rude  Indian 
drum.  They  were  now  obliged  to  grope  day  by 
day,  with  bending  body  and  anxious  eye,  along 
the  borders  of  their  rivers,  sifting  the  sands  for 
the  grains  of  gold  which  every  day  grew  more 
scanty  ;  or  to  labor  in  their  fields  beneath  the  fer- 
vor of  a  tropical  sun,  to  raise  food  for  their  task- 
masters, or  to  produce  the  vegetable  tribute  im- 
posed upon  them.  They  sank  to  sleep  weary  and 
exhausted  at  night,*with  the  certainty  that  the 
next  day  was  but  to  be  a  repetition  of  the  same 
toil  and  suffering.  Or  if  they  occasionally  in- 
dulged in  their  national  dances,  the  ballads  to 
which  they  kept  time  were  of  a  melancholy  and 
plaintive  character.  They  spoke  of  the  times  that 
were  past  before  the  white  men  had  introduced 
sorrow,  and  slavery,  and  weary  labor  among 
them  ;  and  they  rehearsed  pretended  prophecies, 
handed  down  from  their  ancestors,  foretelling  the 
invasion  of  the  Spaniards  ;  that  strangers  should 
come  into  their  island,  clothed  in  apparel,  with 
swords  capable  of  cleaving  a  man  asunder  at  a 
blow,  under  whose  yoke  their  posterity  should  be 
subdued.  These  ballads,  or  areytos,  they  sang 
with  mournful  tunes  and  doleful  voices,  bewailing 
the  loss  of  their  liberty,  and  their  painful  servi- 
tude.* 

They  had  flattered  themselves,  for  a  time,  that 
the  visit  of  the  strangers  would  be  but  temporary, 
and  that,  spreading  their  ample  sails,  their  ships 
would  once  more  bear  them  back  to  their  home  in 
the  sky.  In  their  simplicity,  they  had  repeatedly 
inquired  when  they  intended  to  return  to  Turey, 
or  the  heavens.  They  now  beheld  them  taking 
root,  as  it  were,  in  the  island.  They  beheld  their 
vessels  lying  idle  and  rotting  in  the  harbor,  while 
the  crews,  scattered  about  the  country,  were 
building  habitations  and  fortresses,  the  solid  con- 
struction of  which,  unlike  their  own  slight  cabins, 
gave  evidence  of  permanent  abode. f 

Finding  how  vain  was  all  attempt  to  deliver 
themselves  by  warlike  means  from  these  invinci- 
ble intruders,  they  now  concerted  a  forlorn  and 
desperate  mode  of  annoyance.  They  perceived 
that  the  settlement  suffered  greatly  from  shortness 
of  provisions,  and  depended,  in  a  considerable 
degree,  upon  the  supplies  furnished  by  the  na- 
tives. The  fortresses  in  the  interior,  also,  and  the 
Spaniards  quartered  in  the  villages,  looked  almost 
entirely  to  them  for  subsistence.  They  agreed 
among  themselves,  therefore,  not  to  cultivate  the 
fruits,  the  roots,  and  maize,  their  chief  articles  of 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  ix. 

f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  106. 


food,  and  to  destroy  those  already  growing  ;  hop- 
ing, by  producing  a  famine,  to  starve  the  stran- 
gers from  the  island.  They  little  knew,  observes 
Las  Casas,  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  Span- 
iards, who  the  more  hungry  they  are,  the  more  in- 
flexible they  become,  and  the  more  hardened  to 
endure  suffering.*  They  carried  their  plan  gen- 
erally into  effect,  abandoning  their  habitations, 
laying  waste  their  fields  and  groves,  and  retiring 
to  the  mountains,  where  there  were  roots  and 
herbs  and  abundance  of  utiasfor  their  subsistence. 

This  measure  did  indeed  produce  much  distress 
among  the  Spaniards,  but  they  had  foreign  re- 
sources, and  were  enabled  to  endure  it  by  hus- 
banding the  partial  supplies  brought  by  their 
ships  ;  the  most  disastrous  effects  fell  upon  the 
natives  themselves.  The  Spaniards  stationed  in 
the  various  fortresses,  finding  that  there  was  not 
only  no  hope  of  tribute,  but  a  dangeroffamine  from 
this  wanton  waste  and  sudden  desertion,  pursued 
the  natives  to  their  retreats,  to  compel  them  to  re- 
turn to  labor.  The  Indians  took  refuge  in  the  most 
sterile  and  dreary  heights  ;  flying  from  one  wild  re- 
treat to  another,  the  women  with  their  children  in 
their  arms  or  at  their  backs,  and  all  worn  out 
with  fatigue  and  hunger,  and  harassed  by  per- 
petual alarms.  In  every  noise  of  the  forest  or  the 
mountain  they  fancied  they  heard  the  sound  of 
their  pursuers  ;  they  hid  themselves  in  damp  and 
dismal  caverns,  or  in  the  rocky  banks  and  mar- 
gins of  the  torrents,  and  not  daring  to  hunt,  or 
fish,  or  even  to  venture  forth  in  quest  of  nourish- 
ing roots  and  vegetables,  they  had  to  satisfy  their 
raging  hunger  with  unwholesome  food.  In  this 
way  many  thousands  of  them  perished  miserably, 
through  famine,  fatigue,  terror,  and  various  con- 
tagious maladies  engendered  by  their  sufferings. 
All  spirit  of  opposition  was  at  length  completely 
quelled.  The  surviving  Indians  returned  in  de- 
spair to  their  habitations,  and  submitted  humbly 
to  the  yoke.  So  deep  an  awe  did  they  conceive 
of  their  conquerors,  that  it  is  said  a  Spaniard 
might  go  singly  and  securely  all  over  the  island, 
and  the  natives  would  even  transport  him  from 
place  to  place  on  their  shoulders.f 

Before  passing  on  to  other  events,  it  may  be 
proper  here  to  notice  the  fate  of  Guacanagari,  as 
he  makes  no  further  appearance  in  the  course  of 
this  history.  His  friendship  for  the  Spaniards  had 
severed  him  from  his  countrymen,  but  did  not  ex- 
onerate him  from  the  general  woes  of  the  island. 
His  territories,  like  those  of  the  other  caciques, 
were  subjected  to  a  tribute,  which  his  people,  with 
the  common  repugnance  to  labor,  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  pay.  Columbus,  who  knew  his  worth,  and 
could  have  protected  him,  was  long  absent  either 
in  the  interior  of  the  island,  or  detained  in  Europe 
by  his  own  wrongs.  In  the  interval,  the  Span- 
iards forgot  the  hospitality  and  services  of  Gua- 
canagari, and  his  tribute  was  harshly  exacted. 
He  found  himself  overwhelmed  with  opprobrium 
from  his  countrymen  at  large,  and  assailed  by  the 
clamors  and  lamentations  of  his  suffering  sub- 
jects. The  strangers  whom  he  had  succored  in 
distress,  and  taken  as  it  were  to  the  bosom  of  his 
native  island,  had  become  its  tyrants  and  oppres- 
sors. Care,  and  toil,  and  poverty,  and  strong- 


*  No  conociendo  la  propriedad  de  los  Espanoles, 
los  cuales  cuanto  mas  hatnbrientos,  tanto  mayor  teson 
tienen  y  mas  duros  son  de  sufrir  y  para  sufrir.  Las 
Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  106. 

f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  c.  106.  Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  60. 


124 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


handed  violence,  had  spread  their  curses  over  the 
land,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  had  invoked  them  on  his 
race.  Unable  to  bear  the  hostilities  of  his  fellow 
caciques,  the  woes  of  his  subjects,  and  the  extor- 
tions of  his  ungrateful  allies,  he  took  refuge  at  last 
in  the  mountains,  where  he  died  obscurely  and  in 
misery.* 

An  attempt  has  been  made  byOviedo  to  defame 
the  character  of  this  Indian  prince  :  it  is  not  for 
Spaniards,  however,  to  excuse  their  own  ingrati- 
tude by  casting  a  stigma  on  his  name.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  always  manifested  toward  them 
that  true  friendship  which  shines  brightest  in  the 
dark  days  of  adversity.  He  might  have  played  a 
nobler  part,  in  making  a  stand,  with  his  brother 
caciques,  to  drive  these  intruders  from  his  native 
soil  ;  but  he  appears  to  have  been  fascinated  by 
his  admiration  of  the  strangers,  and  his  personal 
attachment  to  Columbus.  He  was  bountiful, 
hospitable,  affectionate,  and  kind-hearted  ;  com- 
petent to  rule  a  gentle  and  unwarlike  people  in 
the  happier  days  of  the  island,  but  unfitted, 
through  the  softness  of  his  nature,  for  the  stern 
turmoil  which  followed  the  arrival  of  the  white 
men. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

INTRIGUES  AGAINST  COLUMBUS  IN  THE  COURT 
OF  SPAIN — AGUADO  SENT  TO  INVESTIGATE  THE 
AFFAIRS  OF  HISPANIOLA. 

[H95-] 

WHILE  Columbus  was  endeavoring  to  remedy 
the  evils  produced  by  the  misconduct  of  Marga- 
rite,  that  recreant  commander  and  his  political 
coadjutor,  Friar  Boyle,  were  busily  undermining 
his  reputation  in  the  court  of  Castile.  They  ac- 
cused him  of  deceiving  the  sovereigns  and  the  pub- 
lic by  extravagant  descriptions  of  the  countries  he 
had  discovered  ;  they  pronounced  the  island  of 
Hispaniola  a  source  of  expense  rather  than  profit, 
and  they  drew  a  dismal  picture  of  the  sufferings 
of  the  colony,  occasioned,  as  they  said,  by  the  op- 
pressions of  Columbus  and  his  brothers.  They 
charged  them  with  tasking  the  community  with 
excessive  labor  during  a  time  of  general  sickness 
and  debility  ;  with  stopping  the  rations  of  indi- 
viduals on  the  most  trifling  pretext,  to  the  great 
detriment  of  their  health  ;  with  wantonly  inflicting 
severe  corporal  punishments  on  the  common  peo- 
ple, and  with  heaping  indignities  on  Spanish  gen- 
tlemen of  rank.  They  said  nothing,  however,  of 
the  exigencies  which  had  called  for  unusual  labor  ; 
nor  of  the  idleness  and  profligacy  which  required 
coercion  and  chastisement  ;  nor  of  the  seditious 
cabals  of  the  Spanish  cavaliers,  who  had  been 
treated  with  indulgence  rather  than  severity.  In 
addition  to  these  complaints,  they  represented  the 
state  of  confusion  of  the  island,  in  consequence  of 
the  absence  of  the  admiral,  and  the  uncertainty 
which  prevailed  concerning  his  fate,  intimating 
the  probability  of  his  having  perished  in  his  fool- 
hardy attempts  to  explore  unknown  seas  and  dis- 
cover unprofitable  lands. 

These  prejudiced  and  exaggerated  representa- 
tions derived  much  weight  from  the  official  situa- 
tions of  Margarite  and  Friar  Boyle.  They  were 
supported  by  the  testimony  of  many  discontented 
and  factious  idlers,  who  had  returned  with  them 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist,  de  St.  Domingo,  lib.  ii. 


to  Spain.  Some  of  these  persons  had  connections 
of  rank,  who  were  ready  to  resent,  with  Spanish 
haughtiness,  \vhat  they  considered  the  arrogant 
assumptions  of  an  ignoble  foreigner.  Thus  the 
popularity  of  Columbus  received  a  vital  blow,  and 
immediately  began  to  decline.  The  confidence  of 
the  sovereigns  also  was  impaired,  and  precau- 
tions were  adopted  which  savor  strongly  of  the 
cautious  and  suspicious  policy  of  Ferdinand. 

It  was  determined  to  send  some  person  of  trust 
and  confidence,  who  should  take  upon  himself  the 
government  of  the  island  in  case  of  the  continued 
absence  of  the  admiral,  and  who,  even  in  the 
event  of  his  return,  should  inquire  into  the  al- 
leged evils  and  abuses,  and  remedy  such  as 
should  appear  really  in  existence.  The  person 
proposed  for  this  difficult  office  was  Diego  Carillo, 
a  commander  of  a  military  order  ;  but  as  he  was 
not  immediately  prepared  to  sail  with  the  fleet  of 
caravels  about  to  depart  with  supplies,  the  sov- 
ereigns wrote  to  Fonseca,  the  superintendent  of 
Indian  affairs,  to  send  some  trusty  person  with 
the  vessels,  to  take  charge  of  the  provisions  with 
which  they  were  freighted.  These  he  was  to  dis- 
tribute among  the  colonists,  under  the  supervision 
of  the  admiral,  or,  in  case  of  his  absence,  in  pres- 
ence of  those  in  authority.  He  was  also  to  collect 
information  concerning  the  manner  in  which  the 
island  had  been  governed,  the  conduct  of  pers'ons 
in  office,  the  causes  and  authors  of  existing  griev- 
ances, and  the  measures  by  which  they  were  to 
be  remedied.  Having  collected  sucli  information, 
he  was  to  return  and  make  report  to  the  sover- 
eigns ;  but  in  case  he  should  find  the  admiral  at 
the  island,  everything  was  to  remain  subject  to 
his  control. 

There  was  another  measure  adopted  by  the  sov- 
ereigns about  this  time,  which  likewise  shows  the 
declining  favor  of  Columbus.  On  the  loth  of 
April,  1495,  a  proclamation  was  issued,  giving 
general  permission  to  native-born  subjects  to  set- 
tle in  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  and  to  go  on  pri- 
vate voyages  of  discovery  and  traffic  to  the  New 
World.  This  was  granted,  subject  to  certain  con- 
ditions. 

All  vessels  were  to  sail  exclusively  from  the  port 
of  Cadiz,  and  under  the  inspection  of  officers  ap- 
pointed by  the  crown.  Those  who  embarked  for 
Hispaniola  without  pay  and  at  their  own  expense, 
were  to  have  lands  assigned  to  them,  and  to  be 
provisioned  for  one  year,  with  a  right  to  retain 
such  lands,  and  all  houses  they  might  erect  upon 
them.  Of  all  gold  which  they  might  collect,  they 
were  to  retain  one  third  for  themselves,  and  pay 
two  thirds  to  the  crown.  Of  all  other  articles  of 
merchandise,  the  produce  of  the  island,  they  were 
to  pay  merely  one  tenth  to  the  crown.  Their  pur- 
chases were  to  be  made  in  the  presence  of  officers 
appointed  by  the  sovereigns,  and  the  royal  duties 
paid  into  the  hands  of  the  king's  receiver. 

Each  ship  sailing  on  private  enterprise  was  to 
take  one  or  two  persons  named  by  the  royal  offi- 
cers at  Cadiz.  One  tenth  of  the  tonnage  of  the 
ship  was  to  be  at  the  service  of  the  crown,  free  of 
charge.  One  tenth  of  whatever  such  ships  should 
procure  in  the  newly-discovered  countries  was  to 
be  paid  to  the  crown  on  their  return.  These  reg- 
ulations included  private  ships  trading  to  Hispan- 
iola with  provisions. 

For  every  vessel  thus  fitted  out  on  private  ad- 
venture, Columbus,  in  consideration  of  his  privi- 
lege of  an  eighth  of  tonnage,  was  to  have  the  right 
to  freight  one  on  his  own  account. 

This  general  license  for  voyages  of  discovery 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


125 


was  made  in  consequence  of  the  earnest  applica- 
tions of  Vincent  Yafies  Pinzon,  and  other  able  and 
intrepid  navigators,  more  of  whom  had  sailed  with 
Columbus.  They  offered  to  make  voyages  at  their 
own  cost  and  hazard.  The  offer  was  tempting 
and  well-timed.  The  government  was  poor,  the 
expeditions  of  Columbus  were  expensive,  yet  their 
object  was  too  important  to  be  neglected.  Here 
was  an  opportunity  of  attaining  all  the  ends  pro- 
posed, not  merely  without  expense,  but  with  a  cer- 
tainty of  gain.  The  permission,  therefore,  was 
granted,  without  consulting  the  opinion  or  "the 
wishes  of  the  admiral.  It  was  loudly  complained 
of  by  him,  as  an  infringement  of  his  privileges, 
and  as  disturbing  the  career  of  regular  and  well- 
organized  discovery,  by-the  licentious  and  some- 
times predatory  enterprises  of  reckless  adven- 
turers. Doubtless,  much  of  the  odium  that  has 
attached  itself  to  the  Spanish  discoveries  in  the 
New  World  has  arisen  from  the  grasping  avidity 
of  private  individuals. 

Just  at  this  juncture,  in  the  early  part  of  April, 
while  the  interests  of  Columbus  were  in  such  a 
critical  situation,  the  ships  commanded  by  Torres 
arrived  in  Spain.  They  brought  intelligence  of 
the  safe  return  of  the  admiral  to  Hispaniola,  from 
his  voyage  along  the  southern  coast  of  Cuba,  with 
the  evidence  which  he  had  collected  to  prove  that 
it  was  the  extremity  of  the  Asiatic  continent,  and 
that  he  had  penetrated  to  the  borders  of  the 
wealthiest  countries  of  the  East.  Specimens  were 
likewise  brought  of  the  gold,  and  the  various  ani- 
mal and  vegetable  curiosities,  which  he  had  pro- 
cured in  the  course  of  his  voyage.  No  arrival 
could  have  been  more  timely.  It  at  once  removed 
all  doubts  respecting  his  safety,  and  obviated  the 
necessity  of  part  of  the  precautionary  measures  then 
on  the  point  of  being  taken.  The  supposed  discov- 
ery of  the  rich  coast  of  Asia  also  threw  a  tem- 
porary splendor  about  his  expedition,  and  again 
awakened  the  gratitude  of  the  sovereigns.  The 
effect  was  immediately  apparent  in  their  meas- 
ures. Instead  of  leaving  it  to  the  discretion  of 
Juan  Rodriguez  de  Fonseca  to  appoint  whom  he 
pleased  to  the  commission  of  inquiry  about  to  be 
sent  out,  they  retracted  that  power,  and  nomi- 
nated Juan  Aguado. 

He  was  chosen,  because,  on  returning  from 
Hispaniola,  he  had  been  strongly  recommended 
to  royal  favor  by  Columbus.  It  was  intended, 
therefore,  as  a  mark  of  consideration  to  the  lat- 
ter, to  appoint  as  commissioner  a  person  of  whom 
he  had  expressed  so  high  an  opinion,  and  who,  it 
was  to  be  presumed,  entertained  for  him  a  grate- 
ful regard. 

Fonseca,  in  virtue  of  his  official  station  as  su- 
perintendent of  the  affairs  of  the  Indies,  and  prob- 
ably to  gratify  his  growing  animosity  for  Colum- 
bus, had  detained  a  quantity  of  gold  which  Don 
Diego,  brother  to  the  admiral,  had  brought  on 
his  own  private  account.  The  sovereigns  wrote 
to  him  repeatedly,  ordering  him  not  to  demand 
the  gold,  or  if  he  had  seized  it,  to  return  it  imme- 
diately, with  satisfactory  explanations,  and  to 
write  to  Columbus  in  terms  calculated  to  soothe 
any  angry  feelings  which  he  might  have  excited. 
He  was  ordered,  also,  to  consult  the  persons  re- 
cently arrived  from  Hispaniola,  in  what  manner 
he  could  yield  satisfaction  to  the  admiral,  and  to 
act  accordingly.  Fonseca  thus  suffered  one  of  the 
severest  humiliations  of  an  arrogant  spirit,  that 
of  being  obliged  to  make  atonement  for  its  arro- 
gance. It  quickened,  however,  the  malice  which 
he  had  conceived  against  the  admiral  and  his 


family.  Unfortunately  his  official  situation,  and 
the  royal  confidence  which  he  enjoyed,  gave  him 
opportunities  of  gratifying  it  subsequently  in  a 
thousand  insidious  ways. 

While  the  sovereigns  thus  endeavored  to  avoid  any 
act  which  might  give  umbrage  to  Columbus,  they 
took  certain  measures  to  provide  for  the  tranquil- 
lity of  the  colony.  In  a  letter  to  the  admiral  they 
directed  that  the  number  of  persons  in  the  settle- 
ment should  be  limited  to  five  hundred,  a  greater 
number  being  considered  unnecessary  for  the  ser- 
vice of  the  island,  and  a  burdensome  expense  to 
the  crown.  To  prevent  further  discontents  about 
provisions,  they  ordered  that  the  rations  of  indi- 
viduals should  be  dealt  out  in  portions  every  fif- 
teen days,  and  that  all  punishment  by  short  al- 
lowance, or  the  stoppage  of  rations,  should  be 
discontinued,  as  tending  to  injure  the  health  of 
the  colonists,  who  required  every  assistance  of 
nourishing  diet  to  fortify  them  against  the  mala- 
dies incident  to  a  strange  climate. 

An  able  and  experienced  metallurgist,  named 
Pablo  Belvis,  was  sent  out  in  place  of  the  wrong- 
headed  Firmin  Cedo.  He  was  furnished  with  all 
the  necessary  engines  and  implements  for  mining, 
assaying,  and  purifying  the  precious  metals,  and 
with  liberal  pay  and  privileges.  Ecclesiastics 
were  also  sent  to  supply  the  place  of  P'riar  Boyle, 
and  of  certain  of  his  brethren  who  desired  to 
leave  the  island.  The  instruction  and  conversion 
of  the  natives  awakened  more  and  more  the  solici- 
tude of  the  queen.  In  the  ships  of  Torres  a  large 
number  of  Indians  arrived,  who  had  been  cap- 
tured in  the  recent  wars  with  the  caciques.  Roy- 
al orders  had  been  issued,  that  they  should  be 
sold  as  slaves  in  the  markets  of  Andalusia,  as  had 
been  the  custom  with  respect  to  negroes  taken  on 
the  coast  of  Africa,  and  to  Moorish  prisoners 
captured  in  the  war  with  Granada.  Isabella,  how- 
ever, had  been  deeply  interested  by  the  accounts 
given  of  the  gentle  and  hospitable  character  of 
these  islanders,  and  of  their  great  docility.  The 
discovery  had  been  made  under  her  immediate 
auspices  ;  she  looked  upon  these  people  as  under 
her  peculiar  care,  and  she  anticipated  with  pious 
enthusiasm  the  glory  of  leading  them  from  dark- 
ness into  the  paths  of  light.  Her  compassionate 
spirit  revolted  at  the  idea  of  treating  them  as 
slaves,  even  though  sanctioned  by  the  customs  of 
the  time.  Within  five  days  after  the  royal  order 
for  the  sale,  a  letter  was  written  by  the  sovereigns 
to  Bishop  Fonseca,  suspending  that  order,  until 
they  could  inquire  into  the  cause  for  which  the 
Indians  had  been  made  prisoners,  and  consult 
learned  and  pious  theologians,  whether  their  sale 
would  be  justifiable  in  the  eyes  of  God.*  Much 
difference  of  opinion  took  place  among  divines 
on  this  important  question  ;  the  queen  eventually 
decided  it  according  to  the  dictates  of  her  own 
pure  conscience  and  charitable  heart.  She  order- 
ed that  the  Indians  should  be  sent  back  to  their 
native  country,  and  enjoined  that  the  islanders 
should  be  conciliated  by  the  gentlest  means,  in- 
stead of  being  treated  with  severity.  Unfortu- 
nately her  orders  came  too  late  to  Hispaniola  to 
have  the  desired  effect.  The  scenes  of  warfare 
and  violence,  produced  by  the  bad  passions  of  the 
colonists  and  the  vengeance  of  the  natives,  were 
not  to  be  forgotten,  and  mutual  distrust  and  rank- 
ling animosity  had  grown  up  between  them, 
which  no  after  exertions  could  eradicate. 


*  Letter  of  the  Sovereigns  to  Fonseca.     Navarrete, 
Colleccion  de  los  Viages,  i.  n,  Doc.  92. 


126 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ARRIVAL    OF    AGUADO    AT   ISABELLA — HIS   ARRO- 
GANT CONDUCT — TEMPEST   IN  THE  HARBOR. 

[I495-] 

JUAN  AGUADO  set  sail  from  Spain  toward  the 
end  of  August,  with  four  caravels,  well  freighted 
with  supplies  of  all  kinds.  Don  Diego  Columbus 
returned  in  this  squadron  to  Hispaniola,  and  ar- 
rived at  Isabella  in  the  month  of  October,  while 
the  admiral  was  absent,  occupied  in  re-establish- 
ing the  tranquillity  of  the  interior.  Aguado,  as 
has  already  been  shown,  was  under,  obligations 
to  Columbus,  who  had  distinguished  him  from 
among  his  companions,  and  had  recommended 
him  to  the  favor  of  the  sovereigns.  He  was,  how- 
ever, one  of  those  weak  men  whose  heads  are 
turned  by  the  least  elevation.  Puffed  up  by  a  lit- 
tle temporary  power,  he  lost  sight,  not  merely  of 
the  respect  and  gratitude  due  to  Columbus,  but  of 
the  nature  and  extent  of  his  own  commission. 
Instead  of  acting  as  an  agent  employed  to  collect 
information,  he  assumed  a  tone  of  authority,  as 
though  the  reins  of  government  had  been  trans- 
ferred into  his  hands.  He  interfered  in  public 
affairs  ;  ordered  various  persons  to  be  arrested  ; 
called  to  account  the  officers  employed  by  the  ad- 
miral ;  and  paid  no  respect  to  Don  Bartholomew 
Columbus,  who  remained  in  command  during  the 
absence  of  his  brother.  The  Adelantado,  aston- 
ished at  this  presumption,  demanded  a  sight  of 
the  commission  under  which  he  acted  ;  but  Agua- 
do treated  him  with  great  haughtiness,  replying 
that  he  would  show  it  only  to  the  admiral.  On 
second  thoughts,  however,  lest  there  should  be 
doubts  in  the  public  mind  of  his  right  to  interfere 
in  the  affairs  of  the  colony,  he  ordered  his  letter 
of  credence  from  the  sovereigns  to  be  pompously 
proclaimed  by  sound  of  trumpet.  It  was  brief  but 
comprehensive,  to  the  following  purport  :  "  Cav- 
aliers, esquires,  and  other  persons,  who  by  our 
orders  are  in  the  Indies,  we  send  to  you  Juan 
Aguado,  our  groom  of  the  chambers,  who  will 
speak  to  you  on  our  part.  We  command  you  to 
give  him  faith  and  credit." 

The  report  now  circulated  that  the  downfall  of 
Columbus  and  his  family  was  at  hand,  and  that 
an  auditor  had  arrived,  empowered  to  hear  and  to 
redress  the  grievances  of  the  public.  This  rumor 
originated  with  Aguado  himself,  who  threw  out 
menaces  of  rigid  investigations  and  signal  punish- 
ments. It  was  a  time  of  jubilee  for  offenders. 
Every  culprit  started  up  into  an  accuser  ;  every 
one  who  by  negligence  or  crime  had  incurred  the 
wholesome  penalties  of  the  laws,  was  loud  in  his 
clamors  against  the  oppression  of  Columbus. 
There  were  ills  enough  in  the  colony,  some  inci- 
dent to  its  situation,  others  produced  by  the  mis- 
deeds of  the  colonists,  but  all  were  ascribed  to  the 
mal-administration  of  the  admiral.  He  was  made 
responsible  alike  for  the  evils  produced  by  others 
and  for  his  own  stern  remedies.  All  the  old 
complaints  were  reiterated  against  him  and  his 
brothers,  and  the  usual  and  illiberal  cause  given 
for  their  oppressions,  that  they  were  foreigners, 
who  sought  merely  their  own  interests  and  ag- 
grandizement, at  the  expense  of  the  sufferings  and 
the  indignities  of  Spaniards. 

Destitute  of  discrimination  to  perceive  what 
was  true  and  what  false  in  these  complaints,  and 
anxious  only  to  condemn,  Aguado  saw  in  every- 
thing conclusive  testimony  of  the  culpability  of 
Columbus.  He  intimated,  and  perhaps  thought, 
that  the  admiral  was  keeping  at  a  distance  from 


Isabella,  through  fear  of  encountering  his  investi- 
gations. In  the  fulness  of  his  presumption,  he 
even  set  out  with  a  body  of  horse  to  go  in  quest 
of  him.  A  vain  and  weak  man  in  power  is  prone 
to  employ  satellites  of  his  own  description.  The 
arrogant  and  boasting  followers  of  Aguado, 
wherever  they  went,  spread  rumors  among  the 
natives  of  the  might  and  importance  of  their  chief, 
and  of  the  punishment  he  intended  to  inflict  upon 
Columbus.  In  a  little  while  the  report  circulated 
through  the  island  that  a  new  admiral  had  arrived 
to  administer  the  government,  and  that  the  former 
one  was  to  be  put  to  death. 

The  news  of  the  arrival  and  of  the  insolent  con- 
duct of  Aguado  reached  Columbus  in  the  interior 
of  the  island  ;  he  immediately  hastened  to  Isabella 
to  give  him  a  meeting.  Aguado,  hearing  of  his 
approach,  also  returned  there.  As  every  one 
knew  the  lofty  spirit  of  Columbus,  his  high  sense 
of  his  services,  and  his  jealous  maintenance  of  his 
official  dignity,  a  violent  explosion  was  anticipated 
at  the  impending  interview.  Aguado  also  expect- 
ed something  of  the  kind,  but,  secure  in  his  royal 
letter  of  credence,  he  looked  forward  with  the  ig- 
norant audacity  of  a  little  mind  to  the  result.  The 
sequel  showed  how  difficult  it  is  for  petty  spirits 
to  anticipate  the  conduct  of  a  man  like  Columbus 
in  an  extraordinary  situation.  His  natural  heat 
and  impetuosity  had  been  subdued  by  a  life  of  tri- 
als ;  he  had  learned  to  bring  his  passions  into  sub- 
jection to  his  judgment ;  he  had  too  true  an  esti- 
mate of  his  own  dignity  to  enter  into  a  contest 
with  a  shallow  boaster  like  Aguado  ;  above  all, 
he  had  a  profound  respect  for  the  authority  of  his 
sovereigns  ;  for  in  his  enthusiastic  spirit,  prone  to 
deep  feelings  of  reverence,  his  loyalty  was  inferior 
only  to  his  religion.  He  received  Aguado,  there- 
fore, with  grave  and  punctilious  courtesy  ;  and 
retorted  upon  him  his  own  ostentatious  ceremo- 
nial, ordering  that  the  letter  of  credence  should  be 
again  proclaimed  by  sound  of  trumpet  in  presence 
of  the  populace.  He  listened  to  it  with  solemn 
deference,  and  assured  Aguado  of  his  readiness 
to  acquiesce  in  whatever  might  be  the  pleasure  of 
his  sovereigns. 

This  unexpected  moderation,  while  it  astonished 
the  beholders,  foiled  and  disappointed  Aguado. 
He  had  come  prepared  fora  scene  of  altercation, 
and  had  hoped  that  Columbus,  in  the  heat  and 
impatience  of  the  moment,  would  have  said  or 
done  something  that  might  be  construed  into  dis- 
respect for  the  authority  of  the  sovereigns.  He 
endeavored,  in  fact,  some  months  afterward,  to 
procure  from  the  public  notaries  present,  a  preju- 
dicial statement  ot  the  interview  ;  but  the  defer- 
ence of  the  admiral  for  the  royal  letter  of  credence 
had  been  too  marked  to  be  disputed  ;  and  all  the 
testimonials  were  highly  in  his  favor.* 

Aguado  continued  to  intermeddle  in  public 
affairs,  and  the  respect  and  forbearance  with 
which  he  was  uniformly  treated  by  Columbus, 
and  the  mildness  of  the  latter  in  all  his  measures 
to  appease  the  discontents  of  the  colony,  were  re- 
garded as  proofs  of  his  loss  of  moral  courage. 
He  was  looked  upon  as  a  declining  man,  and 
Aguado  hailed  as  the  lord  of  the  ascendant.  Ev- 
ery dastard  spirit  who  had  any  lurking  ill-will, 
any  real  or  imaginary  cause  of  complaint,  now 
hastened  to  give  it  utterance  ;  perceiving  that,  in 
gratifying  his  malice,  he  was  promoting  his  inter- 
est, and  that  in  vilifying  the  admiral  he  was  gain- 
ing the  friendship  of  Aguado. 

The  poor  Indians,  too,  harassed  by  the  domina- 


*  Hcrrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  18. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES    OF   COLUMBUS. 


127 


tion  of  the  white  men,  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of 
a  change  of  rulers,  vainly  hoping  that  it  might 
produce  a  mitigation  of  their  sufferings.  Many 
of  the  caciques  who  had  promised  allegiance  to 
the  admiral  after  their  defeat  in  the  Vega,  now 
assembled  at  the  house  of  Manicaotex,  the  brother 
of  Caonabo,  near  the  river  Yagui,  where  they 
joined  in  a  formal  complaint  against  Columbus, 
whom  they  considered  the  cause  of  all  the  evils 
which  had  sprung  from  the  disobedience  and  the 
vices  of  his  followers. 

Aguado  now  considered  the  great  object  of  his 
mission  fulfilled.  He  had  collected  information 
sufficient,  as  he  thought,  to  insure  the  ruin  of  the 
admiral  and  his  brothers,  and  he  prepared  to  re- 
turn to  Spain.  Columbus  resolved  to  do  the 
same.  He  felt  that  it  was  time  to  appear  at 
court,  and  dispel  the  cloud  of  calumny  gathering 
against  him.  He  had  active  enemies,  of  standing 
and  influence,  who  were  seeking  every  occasion  to 
throw  discredit  upon  himself  and  his  enterprises  ; 
and,  stranger  and  foreigner  as  he  was,  he  had  no 
active  friends  at  court  to  oppose  their  machina- 
tions. He  feared  that  they  might  eventually  pro- 
duce an  effect  upon  the  royal  mind  fatal  to  the 
progress  of  discovery  ;  he  was  anxious  to  return, 
therefore,  and  explain  the  real  causes  of  rhe  re- 
peated disappointments  with  respect  to  profits  an- 
ticipated from  his  enterprises.  It  is  not  one  of 
the  least  singular  traits  in  this  history  that,  after 
having  been  so  many  years  in  persuading  man- 
kind that  there  was  a  new  world  to  be  discovered, 
he  had  almost  equal  trouble  in  proving  to  them 
the  advantage  of  its  discovery. 

When  the  ships  were  ready  to  depart,  a  terrible 
storm  swept  the  island.  It  was  one  of  those  aw- 
ful whirlwinds  which  occasionally  rage  within  the 
tropics,  and  were  called  by  the  Indians  "  furi- 
canes,"  or  "  uricans,"  a  name  they  still  retain 
with  trifling  variation.  About  midday  a  furious 
wind  sprang  up  from  the  east,  driving  before  it 
dense  volumes  of  cloud  and  vapor.  Encountering 
another  tempest  of  wind  from  the  west,  it  appear- 
ed as  if  a  violent  conflict  ensued.  The  clouds 
were  rent  by  incessant  flashes,  or  rather  streams 
of  lightning.  At  one  time  they  were  piled  up 
high  in  the  sky,  at  another  they  swept  to  the 
earth,  filling  the  air  with  a  baleful  darkness  more 
dismal  than  the  obscurity  of  midnight.  Wherever 
the  whirlwind  passed,  whole  tracts  of  forests  were 
shivered  and  stripped  of  their  leaves  and  branches  ; 
those  of  gigantic  size,  which  resisted  the  blast, 
were  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  hurled  to  a  great 
distance.  Groves  were  rent  from  the  mountain 
precipices,  with  vast  masses  of  earth  and  rock, 
tumbling  into  the  valleys  with  terrific  noise,  and 
choking  the  course  of  rivers.  The  fearful  sounds 
in  the  air  and  on  the  earth,  the  pealing  thunder, 
the  vivid  lightning,  the  howling  of  the  wind,  the 
crash  of  falling  trees  and  rocks,  filled  every  one 
with  affright  ;  and  many  thought  that  the  end  of 
the  world  was  at  hand.  Some  fled  to  caverns  for 
safety,  for  their  frail  houses  were  blown  down,  and 
the  air  was  filled  with  the  trunks  and  branches  of 
trees,  and  even  with  fragments  of  rocks,  carried 
along  by  the  fury  of  the  tempest.  When  the  hur- 
ricane reached  the  harbor,  it  whirled  the  ships 
round  as  they  lay  at  anchor,  snapped  their  cables, 
and  sank  three  of  them,  with  all  who  were  on 
board.  Others  were  driven  about,  dashed  against 
each  other,  and  tossed  mere  wrecks  upon  the 
shore  by  the  swelling  surges  of  the  sea,  which  in 
some  places  rolled  for  three  or  four  miles  upon 
the  land.  The  tempest  lasted  for  three  hours. 
When  it  had  passed  away,  and  the  sun  again  ap- 


peared, the  Indians  regarded  each  other  in  mute 
astonishment  and.  dismay.  Never  in  their  mem- 
ory, nor  in  the  traditions  of  their  ancestors,  had 
their  island  been  visited  by  such  a  storm.  They 
believed  that  the  Deity  had  sent  this  fearful  ruin 
to  punish  the  cruelties  and  crimes  of  the  white 
men,  and  declared  that  this  people  had  moved 
the  very  air,  the  water,  and  the  earth,  to  disturb 
their  tranquil  life,  and  to  desolate  their  island.* 


CHAPTER  X. 

DISCOVERY  OF    THE  MINES   OF  HAYNA. 
[1496.] 

IN  the  recent  hurricane  the  four  caravels  of 
Aguado  had  been  destroyed,  together  with  two 
others  which  were  in  the  harbor.  The  only  ves- 
sel which  survived  was  the  Nina,  and  that  in  a 
very  shattered  condition.  Columbus  gave  orders 
to  have  her  immediately  repaired,  and  another 
caravel  constructed  out  of  the  wreck  of  those 
which  had  been  destroyed.  While  waiting  until 
they  should  be  ready  for  sea,  he  was  cheered  by 
tidings  of  rich  mines  in  the  interior  of  the  island, 
the  discovery  of  which  is  attributed  to  an  incident 
of  a  somewhat  romantic  nature. f  A  young  Ar- 
ragonian,  named  Miguel  Diaz,  in  the  service  of 
the  Adelantado,  having  a  quarrel  with  another 
Spaniard,  fought  with  him  and  wounded  him  dan- 
gerously. Fearful  of  the  consequences,  he  fled 
from  the  settlement,  accompanied  by  five  or  six 
comrades  who  had  either  been  engaged  in  the  af- 
fray, or  were  personally  attached  to  him.  Wan- 
dering about  the  island,  they  came  to  an  Indian  vil- 
lage on  the  southern  coast,  near  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Ozema,  where  the  city  of  San  Domingo  is  at 
present  situated.  They  were  received  with  kind- 
ness by  the  natives,  and  resided  for  some  time 
among  them.  The  village  was  governed  by  a  fe- 
male cacique,  who  soon  conceived  a  strong  at- 
tachment for  the  young  Arragonian.  Diaz  was 
not  insensible  to  her  tenderness  ;  a  connection  was 
formed  between  them,  and  they  lived  for  some 
time  very  happily  together. 

The  recollection  of  his  country  and  his  friends 
began  at  length  to  steal  upon  the  thoughts  of  the 
young  Spaniard.  It  was  a  melancholy  lot  to  be 
exiled  from  civilized  life,  and  an  outcast  from 
among  his  countrymen.  He  longed  to  return  to 
the  settlement,  but  dreaded  the  punishment  that 
awaited  him,  from  the  austere  justice  of  the  Ade- 
lantado. His  Indian  bride,  observing  him  fre- 
quently melancholy  and  lost  in  thought,  pene- 
trated the  cause,  with  the  quick  intelligence  of 
female  affection.  Fearful  that  he  would  abandon 
her,  and  return  to  his  countrymen,  she  endeavored 
to  devise  some  means  of  drawing  the  Spaniards  to 
that  part  of  the  island.  Knowing  that  gold  was 
their  sovereign  attraction,  she  informed  Diaz  of 
certain  rich  mines  in  the  neighborhood,  and  urged 
him  to  persuade  his  countrymen  to  abandon  the 
comparatively  sterile  and  unhealthy  vicinity  of  Isa- 
bella, and  settle  upon  the  fertile  banks  of  the 
Ozema,  promising  they  should  be  received  with 
the  utmost  kindness  and  hospitality  by  her  nation. 

Struck  with  the  suggestion,  Diaz  made  particu- 
lar inquiries  about  the  mines,  and  was  convinced 


*  Ramusio,  torn.  iii.  p.  7.     Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i. 
lib.  iv. 
f  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  los  Indias,  lib.  ii.  cap.  13. 


128 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


that  they  abounded  in  gold.  He  noticed  the  su- 
perior fruitfulness  and  beauty  of  the  country,  the 
excellence  of  the  river,  and  the  security  of  the 
harbor  at  its  entrance.  He  flattered  himself  that 
the  communication  of  such  valuable  intelligence 
•would  make  his  peace  at  Isabella,  and  obtain  his 
pardon  from  the  Adelantado.  Full  of  these 
hopes,  he  procured  guides  from  among  the  na- 
tives, and  taking  a  temporary  leave  of  his  In- 
dian bride,  set  out  with  his  comrades  through  the 
wilderness  for  the  settlement,  which  was  about 
fifty  leagues  distant.  Arriving  there  secretly,  he 
learnt  to  his  great  joy  that  the  man  whom  he  had 
wounded  had  recovered.  He  now  presented  him- 
self boldly  before  the  Adelantado,  relying  that 
his  tidings  would  earn  his  forgiveness.  He  was 
not  mistaken.  No  news 'could  have  come  more 
opportunely.  The  admiral  had  been  anxious  to 
remove  the  settlement  to  a  more  healthy  and  ad- 
vantageous situation.  He  was  desirous  also  of 
carrying  home  some  conclusive  proof  of  the  riches 
of  the  island,  as  the  most  effectual  means  of  si- 
lencing the  cavils  of  his  enemies.  If  the  repre- 
sentations of  Miguel  Diaz  were  correct,  here  was  a 
means  of  effecting  both  these  purposes.  Measures 
were  immediately  taken  to  ascertain  the  truth. 
The  Adelantado  set  forth  in  person  to  visit  the 
river  Ozema,  accompanied  by  Miguel  Diaz,  Fran- 
cisco de  Garay,  and  the  Indian  guides,  and  attend- 
ed by  a  number  of  men  well  armed.  They  pro- 
ceeded from  Isabella  to  Magdalena,  and  thence 
across  the  Royal  Vega  to  the  fortress  of  Concep- 
tion. Continuing  on  to  the  south,  they  came  to  a 
range  of  mountains,  which  they  traversed  by  a 
defile  two  leagues  in  length,  and  descended  into 
another  beautiful  plain,  which  was  called  Bonao. 
Proceeding  hence  for  some  distance,  they  came  to 
a  great  river  called  Hayna,  running  through  a 
fertile  country,  all  the  streams  of  which  abounded 
in  gold.  On  the  western  bank  of  this  river,  and 
about  eight  leagues  from  its  mouth,  they  found 
gold  in  greater  quantities  and  in  larger  particles 
than  had  yet  been  met  with  in  any  part  of  the 
island,  not  even  excepting  the  province  of  Cibao. 
They  made  experiments  in  various  places  within 
the  compass  of  six  miles,  and  always  with  suc- 
cess. The  soil  seemed  to  be  generally  impreg- 
nated with  that  metal,  so  that  a  common  laborer, 
with  little  trouble,  might  find  the  amount  of  three 
drachms  in  the  course  of  a  day.*  In  several 
places  they  observed  deep  excavations  in  the  form 
of  pits,  which  looked  as  if  the  mines  had  been 


worked  in  ancient  times,  a  circumstance  which 
caused  much  speculation  among  the  Spaniards, 
the  natives  having  no  idea  of  mining,  but  con- 
tenting themselves  with  the  particles  found 
on  the  surface  of  the  soil,  or  in  the  beds  of  the 
rivers. 

The  Indians  of  the  neighborhood  received  the 
white  men  with  their  promised  friendship,  and  in 
every  respect  the  representations  of  Miguel  Diaz 
were  fully  justified.  He  was  not  only  pardoned,  but 
received  into  great  favor,  and  was  subsequently 
employed  in  various  capacities  in  the  island,  in 
all  which  he  acquitted  himself  with  great  fidelity. 
He  kept  his  faith  with  his  Indian  bride,  by  whom, 
according  to  Oviedo,  he  had  two  children.  Char- 
levoix  supposes  that  they  were  regularly  married, 
as  the  female  cacique  appears  to  have  been  bap- 
tized, being  always  mentioned  by  the  Christian 
name  of  Catalina.* 

When  the  Adelantado  returned  with  this  favor- 
able report,  and  with  specimens  of  ore,  the  anx- 
ious heart  of  the  admiral  was  greatly  elated.  He 
gave  orders  that  a  fortress  should  be  immediately 
erected  on  the  banks  of  the  Hayna,  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  mines,  and  that  they  should  be  diligently 
worked.  The  fancied  traces  of  ancient  excava- 
tions gave  rise  to  one  of  his  usual  veins  of  golden 
conjectures.  He  had  already  surmised  that  His- 
paniola  might  be  the  ancient  Ophir.  He  now 
flattered  himself  that  he  had  discovered  the  iden- 
tical mines  whence  King  Solomon  had  procured 
his  gold  for  the  building  of  the  Temple  of  Jerusa- 
lem. He  supposed  that  his  ships  must  have  sailed 
by  the  Gulf  of  Persia,  and  round  Trapoban  to  this 
island,!  which,  according  to  his  idea,  lay  opposite 
to  the  extreme  end  of  Asia,  for  such  he  firmly  be- 
lieved the  island  of  Cuba. 

It  is  probable  that  Columbus  gave  free  license 
to  his  imagination  in  these  conjectures,  which 
tended  to  throw  a  splendor  about  his  enterprises, 
and  to  revive  the  languishing  interest  of  the  pub- 
lic. Granting,  however,  the  correctness  of  his 
opinion,  that  he  was  in  the  vicinity  of  Asia,  an 
error  by  no  means  surprising  in  the  imperfect 
state  of  geographical  knowledge,  all  his  conse- 
quent suppositions  were  far  from  extravagant. 
The  ancient  Ophir  was  believed  to  lie  somewhere 
in  the  East,  but  its  situation  was  a  matter  of  con- 
troversy among  the  learned,  and  remains  one  of 
those  conjectural  questions  about  which  too  much 
has  been  written  tor  it  ever  to  be  satisfactorily  de- 
cided. 


BOOK   IX. 


CHAPTER  I. 

RETURN  OF  COLUMBUS  TO  SPAIN  WITH  AGUADO. 
[1496.] 

THE  new  caravel,  the  Santa  Cruz,  being  finish- 
ed, and  the  Nifia  repaired,  Columbus  made  every 
arrangement  for  immediate  departure,  anxious  to 
be  freed  from  the  growing  arrogance  of  Aguado, 
and  to  relieve  the  colony  from  a  crew  of  factious 
and  discontented  men.  He  appointed  his  brother, 
Don  Bartholomew,  to  the  command  of  the  island, 


*  Herrera,   Hist.   Ind.,  decad.   i.   lib.    ii.    cap.  18. 
Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv. 


with  the  title,  which  he  had  already  given  him,  of 
Adelantado  ;  in  case  of  his  death,  he  was  to  be 
succeeded  by  his  brother  Don  Diego. 

On  the  loth  of  March  the  two  caravels  set  sail 
for  Spain,  in  one  of  which  Columbus  embarked, 
and  in  the  other  Aguado.  In  consequence  of  the 
orders  of  the  sovereigns,  all  those  who  could  be 
spared  from  the  island,  and  some  who  had  wives 
and  relatives  in  Spain  whom  they  wished  to  visit, 
returned  in  these  caravels,  which  were  crowded 
with  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  passengers,  the 


*  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  los  Indias,  lib.   ii.  cap.  13. 
Charlevoix.  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  ii.  p.  146. 
f  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


129 


sick,  the  idle,  the  profligate,  and  the  factious. 
Never  did  a  more  miserable  and  disappointed 
crew  return  from  a  land  of  promise. 

There  were  thirty  Indians  also  on  board  of  the 
caravels,  among  whom  were  the  once  redoubtable 
cacique  Caonabo,  one  of  his  brothers,  and  a 
nephew.  The  curate  of  Los  Palacios  observes 
that  Columbus  had  promised  the  cacique  and  his 
brother  to  restore  them  to  their  country  and  their 
power,  after  he  had  taken  them  to  visit  the  King 
and  Queen  of  Castile.*  It  is  probable  that  by 
kind  treatment  and  by  a  display  of  the  wonders 
of  Spain  and  the  grandeur  and  might  of  its  sov- 
ereigns, he  hoped  to  conquer  their  enmity  to  the 
Spaniards,  and  convert  them  into  important  in- 
struments toward  obtaining  a  secure  and  peace- 
able dominion  over  the  island.  Caonabo,  how- 
ever, was  of  that  proud  nature,  of  wild  but  vigor- 
ous growth,  which  can  never  be  tamed.  He  re- 
mained a  moody  and  dejected  captive.  He  had 
too  much  intelligence  not  to  perceive  that  his 

Eower  was  for  ever  blasted,  but  he  retained  his 
aughtiness,  even  in  the  midst  of  his  despair. 

Being  as  yet  but  little  experienced  in  the  navi- 
gation of  these  seas,  Columbus,  instead  of  working 
up  to  the  northward,  so  as  to  fall  in  with  the  tract 
of  westerly  winds,  took  an  easterly  course  on 
leaving  the  island.  The  consequence  was  that 
almost  the  whole  of  his  voyage  was  a  toilsome  and 
tedious  struggle  against  the  trade-winds  and 
calms  which  prevail  between  the  tropics.  On  the 
6th  of  April  he  found  himself  still  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  Caribbee  Islands,  with  his  crews  fatigued 
and  sickly,  and  his  provisions  rapidly  diminishing. 
He  bore  away  to  the  southward,  therefore,  to 
touch  at  the  most  important  of  those  islands,  in 
search  of  supplies. 

On  Saturday,  the  9th,  he  anchored  at  Mariga- 
lante,  whence,  on  the  following  day,  he  made  sail 
for  Guadaloupe.  It  was  contrary  to  the  custom 
of  Columbus  to  weigh  anchor  on  Sunday  when 
in  port,  but  the  people  murmured,  and  observed 
that  when  in  quest  of  food  it  was  no  time  to  stand 
on  scruples  as  to  holy  days.f 

Anchoring  off  the  island  of  Guadaloupe,  the 
boat  was  sent  on  shore  well  armed.  Before  it 
could  reach  the  land,  a  large  number  of  females 
issued  from  the  woods,  armed  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows, and  decorated  with  tufts  of  feathers,  prepar- 
ing to  oppose  any  descent  upon  their  shores.  As  the 
sea  was  somewhat  rough,  and  a  surf  broke  upon  the 
beach,  the  boats  remained  at  a  distance,  and  two 
of  the  Indians  from  Hispaniola  swam  to  shore. 
Having  explained  to  these  Amazons  that  the  Span- 
iards only  sought  provisions,  in  exchange  for 
which  they  would  give  articles  of  great  value,  the 
women  referred  them  to  their  husbands,  who  were 
at  the  northern  end  of  the  island.  As  the  boats 
proceeded  thither,  numbers  of  the  natives  were 
seen  on  the  beach,  who  manifested  great  ferocity, 
shouting,  and  yelling,  and  discharging  flights  of 
arrows,  which,  however,  fell  far  short  in  the  water. 
Seeing  the  boats  approach  the  land,  they  hid 
themselves  in  the  adjacent  forest,  and  rushed  forth 
with  hideous  cries  as  the  Spaniards  were  landing. 
A  discharge  of  firearms  drove  them  to  the  woods 
and  mountains,  and  the  boats  met  with  no  fur- 
ther opposition.  Entering  the  deserted  habita- 
tions, the  Spaniards  began  to  plunder  and  destroy, 
contrary  to  the  invariable  injunctions  of  the  ad- 
miral. Among  other  articles  found  in  these 
houses  were  honey  and  wax,  which  Herrera  sup- 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  131. 
f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  62. 


poses  had  been  brought  from  Terra  Firma,  as 
these  roving  people  collected  the  productions  of 
distant  regions  in  the  course  of  their  expeditions. 
Fernando  Columbus  mentions  likewise  that  there 
were  hatchets  of  iron  in  their  houses  ;  these,  how- 
ever, must  have  been  made  of  a  species  of  hard 
and  heavy  stone,  already  mentioned,  which  re- 
sembled iron  ;  or  they  must  have  been  procured 
from  places  which  the  Spaniards  had  previously 
visited,  as  it  is  fully  admitted  that  no  iron  was  in 
use  among  the  natives  prior  to  the  discovery. 
The  sailors  also  reported  that  in  one  of  the  houses 
they  found  the  arm  of  a  man  roasting  on  a  spit  be- 
fore a  fire  ;  but  these  facts,  so  repugnant  to  hu- 
manity, require  more  solid  authority  to  be  cred- 
ited ;  the  sailors  had  committed  wanton  devasta- 
tions in  these  dwellings,  and  may  have  sought  a 
pretext  with  which  to  justify  their  maraudings  to 
the  admiral. 

While  some  of  the  people  were  getting  wood 
and  water,  and  making  cassava  bread,  Columbus 
dispatched  forty  men,  well  armed,  to  explore  the 
interior  of  the  island.  They  returned  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  with  ten  women  and  three  boys.  The 
women  were  of  large  and  powerful  form,  yet  of 
great  agility.  They  were  naked,  and  wore  their 
long  hair  flowing  loose  upon  their  shoulders  ; 
some  decorated  their  heads  with  plumes  of  vari- 
ous colors.  Among  them  was  the  wife  of  a  ca- 
cique, a  woman  of  great  strength  and  proud  spirit. 
On  the  approach  of  the  Spaniards,  she  had  fled  with 
an  agility  which  soon  left  all  her  pursuers  far  be- 
hind, excepting  a  native  of  the  Canary  Islands  re- 
markable for  swiftness  of  foot.  She  would 
have  escaped  even  from  him,  but  perceiving  that 
he  was  alone,  and  far  from  his  companions,  she 
turned  suddenly  upon  him,  seized  him  with  aston- 
ishing force,  and  would  have  strangled  him,  had 
not  the  Spaniards  arrived  and  taken  her  entangled 
like  a  hawk  with  her  prey.  The  warlike  spirit  of 
these  Carib  women,  and  the  circumstance  of  find- 
ing them  in  armed  bands,  defending  their  shores, 
during  the  absence  of  their  husbands,  led  Colum- 
bus repeatedly  into  the  erroneous  idea,  that  cer- 
tain of  these  islands  were  inhabited  entirely  by 
women  ;  for  which  error,  as  has  already  been  ob- 
served, he  was  prepared  by  the  stories  of  Marco 
Polo  concerning  an  island  of  Amazons  near  the 
coast  of  Asia. 

Having  remained  several  days  at  the  island, 
and  prepared  three  weeks'  supply  of  bread,  Co- 
lumbus prepared  to  make  sail.  As  Guadaloupe 
was  the  most  important  of  the  Caribbee  Islands, 
and  in  a  manner  the  portal  or  entrance  to  all  the 
rest,  he  wished  to  secure  the  friendship  of  the  in- 
habitants. He  dismissed,  therefore,  all  the  pris- 
oners, with  many  presents,  to  compensate  for  the 
spoil  and  injury  which  had  been  done.  The  fe- 
male cacique,  however,  declined  going  on  shore, 
preferring  to  remain  and  accompany  the  natives 
of  Hispaniola  who  were  on  board,  keeping  with 
her  also  a  young  daughter.  She  had  conceived  a 
passion  for  Caonabo,  having  found  out  that  he 
was  a  native  of  the  Caribbee  Islands.  His  char- 
acter and  story,  gathered  from  the  other  Indians, 
had  won  the  sympathy  and  admiration  of  this  in- 
trepid woman.* 

Leaving  Guadaloupe  on  the  2oth  of  April,  and 
keeping  in  about  the  twenty-second  degree  of  lati- 
tude, the  caravels  again  worked  their  way  against 
the  whole  current  of  the  trade-winds,  insomuch 
that,  on  the  2oth  of  May,  after  a  month  of  great 
fatigue  and  toil,  they  had  yet  a  great  part  oi  their 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  63. 


130 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


voyage  to  make.  The  provisions  were  already  so 
reduced  that  Columbus  had  to  put  every  one  on 
a  daily  allowance  of  six  ounces  of  bread  and  a 
pint  and  a  half  of  water  ;  as  they  advanced,  the 
scarcity  grew  more  and  more  severe,  and  was 
rendered  more  appalling  from  the  uncertainty 
which  prevailed  on  board  the  vessels  as  to  their 
situation.  There  were  several  pilots  in  the  cara- 
vels ;  but  being  chiefly  accustomed  to  the  navi- 
gation of  the  Mediterranean,  or  the  Atlantic  coasts, 
they  were  utterly  confounded,  and  lost  all  reckon- 
ing when  traversing  the  broad  ocean.  Every  one 
had  a  separate  opinion,  and  none  heeded  that  of 
the  admiral.  By  the  beginning  of  June  there  was 
an  absolute  famine  on  board  of  the  ships.  In  the 
extremity  of  their  sufferings,  while  death  stared 
them  in  the  face,  it  was  proposed  by  some  of  the 
Spaniards,  as  a  desperate  alternative,  that  they 
should  kill  and  eat  their  Indian  prisoners  ;  others 
suggested  that  they  should  throw  them  into  the 
sea,  as  so  many  expensive  and  useless  months. 
Nothing  but  the  absolute  authority  of  Columbus 
prevented  this  last  counsel  from  being  adopted. 
He  represented  that  the  Indians  were  their  fellow- 
beings,  some  of  them  Christians  like  themselves, 
and  all  entitled  to  similar  treatment.  He  exhort- 
ed them  to  a  little  patience,  assuring  them  that 
they  would  soon  make  land,  for  that,  according  to 
his  reckoning,  they  were  not  far  from  Cape  St.  Vin- 
cent. At  this  all  scoffed,  for  they  believed  them- 
selves yet  far  from  their  desired  haven  ;  some 
affirming  that  they  were  in  the  English  Channel, 
others  that  they  were  approaching  Gallicia  ;  when 
Columbus,  therefore,  confident  in  his  opinion,  or- 
dered that  sail  should  be  taken  in  at  night,  lest 
they  should  come  upon  the  land  in  the  dark,  there 
was  a  general  murmur  ;  the  men  exclaiming  that 
it  was  better  to  be  cast  on  shore  than  to  starve  at 
sea.  The  next  morning,  however,  to  their  great 
joy,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  very  land  which  Co- 
lumbus had  predicted.  From  this  time,  he  was 
regarded  by  the  seamen  as  deeply  versed  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  ocean,  and  almost  oracular  in 
matters  of  navigation.* 

On  the  nth  of  June  the  vessels  anchored  in  the 
Bay  of  Cadiz,  after  a  weary  voyage  of  about  three 
months.  In  the  course  of  this  voyage  the  unfor- 
tunate Caonabo  expired.  It  is  by  the  mere  casual 
mention  of  contemporary  writers  that  we  have 
any  notice  of  this  circumstance,  which  appears  to 
have  been  passed  over  as  a  matter  of  but  little 
moment.  He  maintained  his  haughty  nature  to 
the  last,  for  his  death  is  principally  ascribed  to  the 
morbid  melancholy  of  a  proud  but  broken  spirit. f 
He  was  an  extraordinary  character  in  savage  life. 
From  being  a  simple  Carib  warrior  he  had  risen, 
by  his  enterprise  and  courage,  to  be  the  most 
powerful  cacique,  and  the  dominant  spirit  of  the 
populous  island  of  Hayti.  He  was  the  only  chief- 
tain that  appeared  to  have  had  sagacity  sufficient 
to  foresee  the  fatal  effects  of  Spanish  ascendency, 
or  military  talent  to  combine  any  resistance  to  its 
inroads.  Had  his  warriors  been  of  his  own  in- 
trepid nature,  the  war  which  he  raised  would  have 
been  formidable  in  the  extreme.  His  fate  fur- 
nishes, on  a  narrow  scale,  a  lesson  to  human 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  63. 

f  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  131.  Peter  Martyr, 
decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  Some  have  affirmed  that  Caonabo 
perished  in  one  of  the  caravels  which  foundered  in  the 
harbor  of  Isabella  during  the  hurricane,  but  the 
united  testimony  of  the  curate  of  Los  Palacios,  Peter 
Martyr,  and  Fernando  Columbus,  proves  that  he  sailed 
with  the  admiral  in  his  return  voyage. 


greatness.  When  the  Spaniards  first  arrived  on 
the  coast  of  Hayti,  their  imaginations  were  in- 
flamed with  rumors  of  a  magnificent  prince  in  the 
interior,  the  lord  of  the  Golden  House,  the  sover- 
eign of  the  mines  of  Cibao,  who  reigned  in  splen- 
did state  among  the  mountains  ;  but  a  short  time 
had  elapsed,  and  this  fancied  potentate  of  the 
East,  stripped  of  every  illusion,  was  a  naked  and 
dejected  prisoner  on  the  deck  of  one  of  their  cara- 
vels, with  none  but  one  of  his  own  wild  native 
heroines  to  sympathize  in  his  misfortunes.  All 
his  importance  vanished  with  his  freedom  ;  scarce 
any  mention  is  made  of  him  during  his  captivity, 
and  with  innate  qualities  of  a  high  and  heroic  na- 
ture, he  perished  with  the  obscurity  of  one  of  the 
vulgar. 


CHAPTER   II. 

DECLINE  OF  THE  POPULARITY  OF  COLUMBUS  IN 
SPAIN — HIS  RECEPTION  BY  THE  SOVEREIGNS 
AT  BURGOS — HE  PROPOSES  A  THIRD  VOYAGE. 

ENVY  and  malice  had  been  but  too  successful 
in  undermining  the  popularity  of  Columbus.     It 
is  impossible  to  keep  up  a  state  of  excitement  for 
any  length  of  time,  even  by  miracles.    The  world, 
at  first,  is  prompt  and   lavish  in   its  admiration, 
but  soon  grows  cool,  distrusts,  its  late  enthusiasm, 
and  fancies  it  has  been  defrauded  of  what  it  be- 
stowed with  such  prodigality.     It  is  then  that  the 
cavalier  who  had  been  silenced  by  the  general  ap- 
1   plause,  puts  in  his  insidious  suggestion,  detracts 
'  from  the  merit  of  the  declining  favorite,  and  suc- 
|  ceeds   in   rendering  him  an  object  of  doubt  and 
!  censure,  if  not  of  absolute   aversion.      In   three 
!  short  years  the  public  had  become  familiar  with 
I  the   stupendous    wonder  of    a    newly-discovered 
world,  and  was  now  open  to  every  insinuation 
derogatory  to  the  fame  of  the  discoverer  and  the 
importance  of  his  enterprises. 

The  circumstances  which  attended  the  present 
arrival  of  Columbus  were  little  calculated  to 
diminish  the  growing  prejudices  of  the  populace. 
When  the  motley  crowd  of  mariners  and  adven- 
turers who  had  embarked  with  such  sanguine  ex- 
pectations landed  from  the  vessels  in  the  port  of 
Cadiz,  instead  of  a  joyous  crew,  bounding  on  shore, 
flushed  with  success,  and  laden  with  the  spoils  of 
the  golden  Indies,  a  feeble  train  of  wretched  men 
crawled  forth,  emaciated  by  the  diseases  of  the 
colony  and  the  hardships  of  the  voyage,  who  car- 
ried in  their  yellow  countenances,  says  an  old 
writer,  a  mockery  of  that  gold  which  had  been 
the  object  of  their  search,  and  who  had  nothing  to 
relate  of  the  New  World  but  tales  of  sickness, 
poverty,  and  disappointment. 

Columbus  endeavored,  as  much  as  possible,  to 
counteract  these  unfavorable  appearances,  and  to 
revive  the  languishing  enthusiasm  of  the  public. 
He  dwelt  upon  the  importance  of  his  recent  dis- 
coveries along  the  coast  of  Cuba,  where,  as  he 
supposed,  he  had  arrived  nearly  to  the  Aurea 
Chersonesus  of  the  ancients,  bordering  on  some 
of  the  richest  provinces  of  Asia.  Above  all,  he 
boasted  of  his  discovery  of  the  abundant  mines  on 
the  south  side  of  Hispaniola,  which  he  persuaded 
himself  were  those  of  the  ancient  Ophir.  The 
public  listened  to  these  accounts  with  sneering 
incredulity  ;  or  if  for  a  moment  a  little  excitement 
was  occasioned,  it  was  quickly  destroyed  by 
gloomy  pictures  drawn  by  disappointed  adven- 
turers. 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


131 


In  the  harbor  of  Cadiz  Columbus  found  three 
caravels,  commanded  by  Pedro  Alonzo  Niflo,  on 
the  point  of  sailing  with  supplies  for  the  colony. 
Nearly  a  year  had  elapsed  without  any  relief  of  the 
kind  ;  four  caravels  which  had  sailed  in  the  pre- 
ceding January  having  been  lost  on  the  coast  of 
the  Peninsula.*  Having  read  the  royal  letters  and 
dispatches  of  which  Niflo  was  the  bearer,  and 
being  informed  of  the  wishes  of  the  sovereigns,  as 
well  as  of  the  state  of  the  public  mind,  Columbus 
wrote  by  this  opportunity,  urging  the  Adelantado 
to  endeavor,  by  every  means,  to  bring  the  island 
into  a  peaceful  and  productive  state,  appeasing  all 
discontents  and  commotions,  and  seizing  and 
sending  to  Spain  all  caciques,  or  their  subjects, 
who  should  be  concerned  in  the  deaths  of  any  of 
the  colonists.  He  recommended  the  most  unre- 
mitting diligence  in  exploring  and  working  the 
mines  recently  discovered  on  the  river  Hayna,  and 
that  a  place  should  be  chosen  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  a  seaport  founded.  Pedro  Alonzo  Nino 
set  sail  with  the  three  caravels  on  the  iyth  of  June. 

Tidings  of  the  arrival  of  Columbus  having 
reached  the  sovereigns,  he  received  a  gracious 
letter  from  them,  dated  at  Almazen,  I2th  July, 
1496  ;  congratulating  him  on  his  safe  return,  and 
inviting  him  to  court  when  he  should  have  recov- 
ered from  the  fatigues  of  his  voyage.  The  kind 
terms  in  which  this  letter  was  couched  were  cal- 
culated to  reassure  the  heart  of  Columbus,  who, 
ever  since  the  mission  of  the  arrogant  Aguado, 
had  considered  himself  out  of  favor  with  the  sov- 
ereigns, and  fallen  into  disgrace.  As  a  proof  of 
the  dejection  of  his  spirits,  we  are  told  that  when 
he  made  his  appearance  this  time  in  Spain,  he  was 
clad  in  a  humble  garb,  resembling  in  form  and 
color  the  habit  of  a  Franciscan  monk,  simply 
girded  with  a  cord,  and  that  he  had  suffered  his 
beard  to  grow  like  the  brethren  of  that  order.f 
This  was  probably  in  fulfilment  of  some  peniten- 
tial vow  made  in  a  moment  of  danger  or  despond- 
ency— a  custom  prevalent  in  those  days,  and 
frequently  observed  by  Columbus.  It  betokened, 
however,  much  humility  and  depression  of  spirit, 
and  afforded  a  striking  contrast  to  his  appearance 
on  his  former  triumphant  return.  He  was 
doomed,  in  fact,  to  yield  repeated  examples  of  the 
reverses  to  which  those  are  subject  who  have  once 
launched  from  the  safe  shores  of  obscurity  on  the 
fluctuating  waves  of  popular  opinion. 

However  indifferent  Columbus  might  be  to  his 
own  personal  appearance,  he  was  anxious  to  keep 
alive  the  interest  in  his  discoveries,  fearing  con- 
tinually that  the  indifference  awakening  toward 
him  might  impede  their  accomplishment.  On  his 
way  to  Burgos,  therefore,  where  the  sovereigns 
were  expected,  he  made  a  studious  display  of  the 
curiosities  and  treasures  which  he  had  brought 
from  the  New  World.  Among  these  were  collars, 
bracelets,  anklets,  and  coronets  of  gold,  the  spoils 
of  various  caciques,  and  which  were  considered  as 
trophies  won  from  barbaric  princes  of  the  rich 
coasts  of  Asia,  or  the  islands  of  the  Indian  seas. 
It  is  a  proof  of  the  petty  standard  by  which  the 
sublime  discovery  of  Columbus  was  already  esti- 
mated, that  he  had  to  resort  to  this  management 
to  dazzle  the  gross  perceptions  of  the  multitude 
by  the  mere  glare  of  gold. 

He  carried  with  him  several  Indians  also,  deco- 
rated after  their  savage  fashion,  and  glittering  with 
golden  ornaments  ;  among  whom  were  the  brother 


*  Munoz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  vi. 
f  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  131.     Oviedo,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  13. 


and  nephew  of  Caonabo,  the  former  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  the  latter  only  ten.  They  were 
brought  merely  to  visit  the  king  and  queen,  that 
they  might  be  impressed  with  an  idea  of  the 
grandeur  and  power  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns, 
after  which  they  were  to  be  restored  in  safety  to 
their  country.  Whenever  they  passed  through 
any  principal  place,  Columbus  put  a  massive  col- 
lar and  chain  of  gold  upon  the  brother  of  Caona- 
bo, as  being  cacique  of  the  golden  country  of 
Cibao.  The  curate  of  Los  Palacios,  who  enter- 
tained the  discoverer  and  his  Indian  captives  for 
several  days  in  his  house,  says  that  he  had  this 
chain  of  gold  in  his  hands,  and  that  it  weighed  six 
hundred  castellanos.*  The  worthy  curate  like- 
wise makes  mention  of  various  Indian  masks  and 
images  of  wood  or  cotton,  wrought  with  fantastic 
faces  of  animals,  all  of  which  he  supposed  were 
representations  of  the  devil,  who  he  concludes 
must  be  the  object  of  adoration  of  these  islanders. f 

The  reception  of  Columbus  by  the  sovereigns 
was  different  from  what  he  had  anticipated  ;  for 
he  was  treated  with  distinguished  favor,  nor  was 
any  mention  made  either  of  the  complaints  of 
Margarite  and  Boyle,  or  the  judicial  inquiries 
conducted  by  Aguado.  However  these  may  have 
had  a  transient  effect  on. the  minds  of  the  sover- 
eigns, they  were  too  conscious  of  the  great  deserts 
of  Columbus,  and  the  extraordinary  difficulties  of 
his  situation,  not  to  tolerate  what  they  may  have 
considered  errors  on  his  part. 

Encouraged  by  the  favorable  countenance  he 
experienced,  and  by  the  interest  with  which  the 
sovereigns  listened  to  his  account  of  his  recent 
voyage  along  the  coast  of  Cuba,  and  the  discovery 
of  the  mines  of  Hayna,  which  he  failed  not  to  rep- 
resent as  the  Ophir  of  the  ancients,  Columbus 
now  proposed  a  further  enterprise,  by  which  he 
promised  to  make  yet  more  extensive  discoveries, 
and  to  annex  Terra  Firma  to  their  dominions. 
For  this  purpose  he  asked  eight  ships  :  two  to  be 
dispatched  to  the  island  of  Hispaniola  with  sup- 
plies, the  remaining  six  to  be  put  under  his  com- 
mand for  a  voyage  of  discover}'.  The  sovereigns 
readily  promised  to  comply  with  his  request,  and 
were  probably  sincere  in  their  intentions  to  do  so, 
but  in  the  performance  of  their  promise  Columbus 
was  doomed  to  meet  with  intolerable  delay  ; 
partly  in  consequence  of  the  operation  of  public 
events,  partly  in  consequence  of  the  intrigues  of 
men  of  office,  the  two  great  influences  which  are 
continually  diverting  and  defeating  the  designs  of 
princes. 

The  resources  of  Spain  were,  at  this  moment, 
tasked  to  the  utmost  by  the  ambition  of  Ferdi- 
nand, who  lavished  all  his  revenues  in  warlike  ex- 
penses and  in  subsidies.  While  maintaining  a 
contest  of  deep  and  artful  policy  with  France, 
with  the  ultimate  aim  of  grasping  the  sceptre  of 
Naples,  he  was  laying  the  foundation  of  a  wide 
and  powerful  connection  by  the  marriages  of  the 
royal  children,  who  were  now  maturing  in  years. 
At  this  time  arose  that  family  alliance,  which 
afterward  consolidated  such  an  immense  empire 
under  his  grandson  and  successor,  Charles  V. 

While  a  large  army  was  maintained  in  Italy, 
under  Gonsalvo  of  Cordova,  to  assist  the  King  of 
Naples  in  recovering  his  throne,  of  which  he  had 
been  suddenly  dispossessed  by  Charles  VIII.  of 
France,  other  armies  were  required  on  the  fron- 
tiers of  Spain,  which  were  menaced  with  a  French 


*  Equivalent  to  the  value  of  three  thousand  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety-five  dollars  of  the  present  time. 
f  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  131. 


132 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


invasion.  Squadrons  also  had  to  be  employed  for 
the  safeguard  of  the  Mediterranean  and  Atlantic 
coasts  of  the  Peninsula,  while  a  magnificent  ar- 
mada of  upward  of  a  hundred  ships,  having  on 
board  twenty  thousand  persons,  many  of  them  of 
the  first  nobility,  was  dispatched  to  convoy  the 
Princess  Juana  to  Flanders,  to  be  married  to 
Philip,  Archduke  of  Austria,  and  to  bring  back 
his  sister  Margarita,  the  destined  bride  of  Prince 
Juan. 

These  widely-extended  operations,  both  of  war 
and  amity,  put  all  the  land  and  naval  forces  into 
requisition.  They  drained  the  royal  treasury,  and 
engrossed  the  thoughts  of  the  sovereigns,  obliging 
them  also  to  journey  from  place  to  place  in  their 
dominions.  With  such  cares  of  an  immediate  and 
homefelt  nature  pressing  upon  their  minds,  the 
distant  enterprises  of  Columbus  were  easily  neg- 
lected or  postponed.  They  had  hitherto  been 
sources  of  expense  instead  of  profit ;  and  there 
were  artful  counsellors  ever  ready  to  whisper  in 
the  royal  ear  that  they  were  likely  to  continue  so. 
What,  in  the  ambitious  eyes  of  Ferdinand,  was 
the  acquisition  of  a  number  of  wild,  uncultivated, 
and  distant  islands,  to  that  of  the  brilliant  domain 
of  Naples  ;  or  the  intercourse  with  naked  and 
barbaric  princes,  to  that  of  an  alliance  with  the 
most  potent  sovereigns  of  Christendom  ?  Colum- 
bus had  the  mortification,  therefore,  to  see  armies 
levied  and  squadrons  employed  in  idle  contests 
about  a  little  point  of  territory  in  Europe,  and  a 
vast  armada  of  upward  of  a  hundred  sail  destined 
to  the  ostentatious  service  of  convoying  a  royal 
bride  ;  while  he  vainly  solicited  a  few  caravels  to 
prosecute  his  discovery  of  a  world. 

At  length,  in  the  autumn,  six  millions  of  mara- 
vedies  were  ordered  to  be  advanced  to  Columbus 
for  the  equipment  of  his  promised  squadron.*  Just 
as  the  sum  was  about  to  be  delivered,  a  letter  was 
received  from  Pedro  Alonzo  Nifio,  who  had  ar- 
rived at  Cadiz  with  his  three  caravels,  on  his  re- 
turn from  the  island  of  Hispaniola.  Instead  of 
proceeding  to  court  in  person,  or  forwarding  the 
dispatches  of  the  Adelantado,  he  had  gone  to  visit 
his  family  at  Huelva,  taking  the  dispatches  with 
him,  and  merely  writing,  in  a  vaunting  style,  that 
he  had  a  great  amount  of  gold  on  board  of  his 
ships. f 

This  was  triumphant  intelligence  to  Columbus, 
who  immediately  concluded  that  the  new  mines 
were  in  operation,  and  the  treasures  of  Ophir 
about  to  be  realized.  The  letter  of  Nifio,  how- 
ever, was  fated  to  have  a  most  injurious  effect  on 
his  concerns. 

The  king  at  that  moment  was  in  immediate 
want  of  money,  to  repair  the  fortress  of  Salza,  in 
Roussillon,  which  had  been  sacked  by  the  French  ; 
the  six  millions  of  maravedies  about  to  be  ad- 
vanced to  Columbus  were  forthwith  appropriated 
to  patch  up  the  shattered  castle,  and  an  order  was 
given  for  the  amount  to  be  paid  out  of  th£  gold 
brought  by  Nifio.  It  was  not  until  the  end  of  De- 
cember, when  Nifto  arrived  at  court,  and  deliv- 
ered the  dispatches  of  the  Adelantado,  that  his 
boast  of  gold  was  discovered  to  be  a  mere  figure 
of  speech,  and  that  his  caravels  were,  in  fact, 
freighted  with  Indian  prisoners,  from  the  sale  of 
whom  the  vaunted  gold  was  to  arise. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  the  vexatious  effects  of 
this  absurd  hyperbole.  The  hopes  of  Columbus, 
of  great  and  immediate  profit  from  the  mines, 
were  suddenly  cast  down  ;  the  zeal  of  his  few  ad- 


*  Equivalent  to  86,956  dollars  of  the  present  day. 
\  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  123,  MS. 


vocates  was  cooled  ;  an  air  of  empty  exaggeration 
was  given  to  his  enterprises  ;  and  his  enemies 
pointed  with  scorn  and  ridicule  to  the  wretched 
cargoes  of  the  caravels,  as  the  boasted  treasures 
of  the  New  World.  The  report  brought  by  Nifio 
and  his  crew  represented  the  colony  as  in  a  dis- 
astrous condition,  and  the  dispatches  of  the  Ade- 
lantado pointed  out  the  importance  of  immediate 
supplies  ;  but  in  proportion  as  the  necessity  of 
the  case  was  urgent,  the  measure  of  relief  was 
tardy.  All  the  unfavorable  representations  hither- 
to made  seemed  corroborated,  and  the  invidious 
cry  of  "  great  cost  and  little  gain"  was  revived  by 
those  politicians  of  petty  sagacity  and  microscopic 
eye,  who,  in  all  great  undertakings,  can  discern 
the  immediate  expense,  without  having  scope  of 
vision  to  embrace  the  future  profit. 


CHAPTER   III. 

PREPARATIONS     FOR    A    THIRD     VOYAGE— DISAP- 
POINTMENTS  AND  DELAYS. 

['497.] 

IT  was  not  until  the  following  spring  of  1497 
that  the  concerns  of  Columbus  and  of  the  New 
World  began  to  receive  serious  attention  from  the 
sovereigns.  The  fleet  had  returned  from  Flan- 
ders with  the  Princess  Margarita  of  Austria.  Her 
nuptials  with  Prince  Juan,  the  heir-apparent,  had 
been  celebrated  at  Burgos,  the  capital  of  Old  Cas- 
tile, with  extraordinary  splendor.  All  the  gran- 
dees, the  dignitaries,  and  chivalry  of  Spain, 
together  with  ambassadors  from  the  principal 
potentates  of  Christendom,  were  assembled  on  the 
occasion.  Burgos  was  for  some  time  a  scene  of 
chivalrous  pageant  and  courtly  revel,  and  the 
whole  kingdom  celebrated  with  great  rejoicings 
this  powerful  alliance,  which  seemed  to  insure  to 
the  Spanish  sovereigns  a  continuance  of  their  ex- 
traordinary prosperity. 

In  the  midst  of  these  festivities,  Isabella,  whose 
maternal  heart  had  recently  been  engrossed  by 
the  marriages  of  her  children,  now  that  she  was 
relieved  from  these  concerns  of  a  tender  and  do- 
mestic nature,  entered  into  the  affairs  of  the  New 
World  with  a  spirit  that  showed  she  was  deter- 
mined to  place  them  upon  a  substantial  founda- 
tion, as  well  as  clearly  to  define  the  powers  and 
reward  the  services  of  Columbus.  To  her  pro- 
tecting zeal  all  the  provisions  in  favor  of  Colum- 
bus must  be  attributed  ;  for  the  king  began  to 
look  coldly  on  him,  and  the  royal  counsellors,  who 
had  most  influence  in  the  affairs  of  the  Indies, 
were  his  enemies. 

Various  royal  ordinances  dated  about  this  time 
manifest  the  generous  and  considerate  disposition 
of  the  queen.  The  rights,  privileges,  and  dignities 
granted  to  Columbus  at  Santa  Fe",  were  again 
confirmed  ;  a  tract  of  land  in  Hispaniola,  fifty 
leagues  in  length  and  twenty-five  in  breadth,  was 
offered  to  him  with  the  title  of  duke  or  marquess. 
This,  however,  Columbus  had  the  forbearance  to 
decline  ;  he  observed  that  it  would  only  increase 
the  envy  which  was  already  so  virulent  against 
him,  and  would  cause  new  misrepresentations  ; 
as  he  should  be  accused  of  paying  more  attention 
to  the  settlement  and  improvement  of  his  own  pos- 
sessions than  of  any  other  part  of  the  island.* 

As  the  expenses  of  the  expeditions  had  hitherto 
far  exceeded  the  returns,  Columbus  had  incurred 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  123. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


133 


debt  rather  than  reaped  profit  from  the  share  he 
had  been  permitted  to  take  in  them  ;  he  was  re- 
lieved, therefore,  from  his  obligation  to  bear  an 
eighth  part  of  the  cost  of  the  past  enterprises,  ex- 
cepting the  sum  which  he  had  advanced  toward 
the  first  voyage  ;  at  the  same  time,  however,  he 
was  not  to  claim  any  share  of  what  had  hith- 
erto been  brought  from  the  island.  For  three 
ensuing  years  he  was  to  be  allowed  an  eighth  of 
the  gross  proceeds  of  every  voyage,  and  an  addi- 
tional tenth  after  the  costs  had  been  deducted. 
After  the  expiration  of  the  three  years,  the  original 
terms  of  agreement  were  to  be  resumed. 

To  gratify  his  honorable  ambition  also,  and  to 
perpetuate  in  his  family  the  distinction  gained  by 
his  illustrious  deeds,  he  was  allowed  the  right  of 
establishing  a  mayorazgo,  or  perpetual  entail  of 
his  estates,  so  that  they  might  always  descend  with 
his  titles  of  nobility.  This  he  shortly  after  exer- 
cised in  a  solemn  testament  executed  at  Seville  in 
the  early  part  of  1498,  by  which  he  devised  his  es- 
tates to  his  own  male  descendants,  and  on  their 
failure  to  the  male  descendants  of  his  brothers, 
and  in  default  of  male  heirs  to  the  females  of  his 
lineage. 

The  heir  was  always  to  bear  the  arms  of  the 
admiral,  to  seal  with  them,  to  sign  with  his  signa- 
ture, and  in  signing,  never  to  use  any  other  title 
than  simply  "  The  Admiral,"  whatever  other  titles 
might  be  given  him  by  the  king,  and  used  by  him 
on  other  occasions..  Such  was  the  noble  pride 
with  which  he  valued  this  title  of  his  real  great- 
ness. 

In  this  testament  he  made  ample  provision  for 
his  brother,  the  Adelantado,  his  son  Fernando, 
and  his  brother  Don  Diego,  the  last  of  whom,  he 
intimates,  had  a  desire  to  enter  into  ecclesiastical 
life.  He  ordered  that  a  tenth  part  of  the  revenues 
arising  from  the  mayorazgo  should  be  devoted  to 
pious  and  charitable  purposes,  and  in  relieving  all 
poor  persons  of  his  lineage.  He  made  provisions 
for  the  giving  of  marriage-portions  to  the  poor  fe- 
males of  his  family.  He  ordered  that  a  married 
person  of  his  kindred,  who  had  been  born  in  his 
native  city  of  Genoa,  should  be  maintained  there 
in  competence  and  respectability,  by  way  of  keep- 
ing a  domicil  for  the  family  there  ;  and  he  com- 
manded whoever  should  inherit  the  mayorazgo, 
always  to  do  everything  in  his  power  for  the  honor, 
prosperity,  and  increase  of  the  city  of  Genoa,  pro- 
vided it  should  not  be  contrary  to  the  service  of 
the  church  and  the  interests  of  the  Spanish  crown. 
Among  various  other  provisions  in  this  will,  he 
solemnly  provides  for  his  favorite  scheme,  the  re- 
covery of  the  holy  sepulchre.  He  orders  his  son 
Diego,  or  whoever  else  may  inherit  his  estate,  to 
invest  from  time  to  time  as  much  money  as  he  can 
spare,  in  stock  in  the  bank  of  St.  George  at  Genoa, 
to  form  a  permanent  fund,  with  which  he  is  to 
stand  ready  at  any  time  to  follow  and  serve  the 
king  in  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem.  Or  should  the 
king  not  undertake  such  enterprise,  then,  when 
the  funds  have  accumulated  to  sufficient  amount, 
to  set  on  foot  a  crusade  at  his  own  charge  and 
risk,  in  hopes  that,  seeing  his  determination,  the 
sovereigns  may  be  induced  either  to  adopt  the 
undertaking  or  to  authorize  him  to  pursue  it  in 
their  name. 

Besides  this  special  undertaking  for  the  Catholic 
faith,  he  charges  his  heir  in  case  there  should 
arise  any  schism  in  the  church,  or  any  violence 
menacing  its  prosperity,  to  throw  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  pope,  and  devote  his  person  and  prop- 
erty to  defend  the  church  from  all  insult  and  spo- 
liation. Next  to  the  service  of  God,  he  enjoins 


loyalty  to  the  throne  ;  commanding  him  at  all 
times  to  serve  the  sovereigns  and  their  heirs, 
faithfully  and  zealously,  even  to  the  loss  of  life  and 
estate.  To  insure  the  constant  remembrance  of 
this  testament,  he  orders  his  heir  that,  before  he 
confesses,  he  shall  give  it  to  his  father  confessor  to 
read,  who  is  to  examine  him  upon  his  faithful  ful- 
filment of  its  conditions.* 

As  Columbus  had  felt  aggrieved  by  the  general 
license  granted  in  April,  1495,  to  make  discoveries 
in  the  New  World,  considering  it  as  interfering 
with  his  prerogatives,  a  royal  edict  was  issued  on 
the  2d  of  June,  1497,  retracting  whatever  might  be 
prejudicial  to  his  interests,  or  to  the  previous 
grants  made  him  by  the  crown.  "  It  never  was 
our  intention,"  said  the  sovereigns  in  their  edict, 
"  in  any  way  to  affect  the  rights  of  the  said  Don 
Christopher  Columbus,  nor  to  allow  the  conven- 
tions, privileges,  and  favors  which  we  have  grant- 
ed him  to  be  encroached  upon  or  violated  ;  but  on 
the  contrary,  in  consequence  of  the  services  which 
he  has  rendered  us,  we  intend  to  confer  still  fur- 
ther favors  on  him."  Such,  there  is  every  reason 
to  believe,  was  the  sincere  intention  of  the  mag- 
nanimous Isabella  ;  but  the  stream  of  her  royal 
bounty  was  poisoned  or  diverted  by  the  base 
channels  through  which  it  flowed. 

The  favor  shown  to  Columbus  was  extended 
likewise  to  his  family.  The  titles  and  preroga- 
tives of  Adelantado,  with  which  he  had  invested 
his  brother  Don  Bartholomew,  had  at  first  awaken- 
ed the  displeasure  of  the  king,  who  jealously  re- 
served all  high  dignities  of  the  kind  to  be  granted 
exclusively  by  the  crown.  By  a  royal  letter  the 
office  was  now  conferred  upon  Don  Bartholomew, 
as  if  through  spontaneous  favor  of  the  sovereigns, 
no  allusion  being  made  to  his  having  previously 
enjoyed  it. 

While  all  these  measures  were  taken  for  the 
immediate  gratification  of  Columbus,  others  were 
adopted  for  the  interests  of  the  colony.  Permis- 
sion was  granted  him  to  take  out  three  hundred  • 
and  thirty  persons  in  royal  pay,  of  whom  forty 
were  to  be  escuderos,  or  servants,  one  hundred 
foot-soldiers,  thirty  sailors,  thirty  ship-boys, 
twenty  miners,  fifty  husbandmen,  ten  gardeners, 
twenty  mechanics  of  various  kinds,  and  thirty  fe- 
males. He  was  subsequently  permitted  to  increase 
the  number,  if  he  thought  proper,  to  five  hundred  ; 
but  the  additional  individuals  were  to  be  paid  out 
of  the  produce  and  merchandise  of  the  colony.  He 
was  likewise  authorized  to  grant  lands  to  all  such 
as  were  disposed  to  cultivate  vineyards,  orchards, 
sugar  plantations,  or  to  form  any  other  rural  estab- 
lishments, on  condition  that  they  should  reside  as 
householders  on  the  island  for  four  years  after 
such  grant,  and  that  all  the  brazil-wood  and  pre- 
cious metals  found  on  their  lands  should  be  re- 
served to  the  crown. 

Nor  were  the  interests  of  the  unhappy  natives 
forgotten  by  the  compassionate  heart  of  Isabella. 
Notwithstanding  the  sophisms  by  which  their  sub- 
jection and  servitude  were  made  matters  of  civil 
and  divine  right,  and  sanctioned  by  the  political 
prelates  of  the  day,  Isabella  always  consented  with 
the  greatest  reluctance  to  the  slavery  even  of  those 
who  were  taken  in  open  warfare  ;  while  her  ut- 
most solicitude  was  exerted  to  protect  the  unof- 
fending part  of  this  helpless  and  devoted  race. 
She  ordered  that  the  greatest  care  should  be  taken 
of  their  religious  instruction,  and  the  greatest  le- 
niency shown  in  collecting  the  tributes  imposed 


*  This  testament  is  inserted  at  large  in  the  Appen- 
dix. 


134 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


upon  them,  with  all  possible  indulgence  to  defal- 
cators.  In  fact,  the  injunctions  given  with  re- 
spect to  the  treatment  both  of  Indians  and  Span- 
iards, are  the  only  indications  in  the  royal  edicts 
of  any  impression  having  been  made  by  the  com- 
plaints against  Columbus  of  severity  in  his  govern- 
ment. It  was  generally  recommended  by  the  sov- 
ereigns that,  whenever  the  public  safety  did  not 
require  stern  measures,  there  should  be  mani- 
fested a  disposition  to  lenity  and  easy  rule. 

When  every  intention  was  thus  shown  on  the 
part  of  the  crown  to  dispatch  the  expedition  to  the 
colony,  unexpected  difficulties  arose  on  the  part  of 
the  public.  The  charm  was  dispelled  which  in 
the  preceding  voyage  had  made  every  adventurer 
crowd  into  the  service  of  Columbus.  An  odium 
had  been  industriously  thrown  upon  his  enter- 
prises ;  and  his  new-found  world,  instead  of  a  re- 
gion of  wealth  and  delight,  was  considered  a  land 
of  poverty  and  disaster.  There  was  a  difficulty  in 
procuring  either  ships  or  men  for  the  voyage.  To 
remedy  the  first  of  these  deficiencies,  one  of  those 
arbitrary  orders  was  issued,  so  opposite  to  our 
present  ideas  of  commercial  policy,  empowering 
the  officers  of  the  crown  to  press  into  the  service 
whatever  ships  they  might  judge  suitable  for  the 
purposed  expedition,  together  with  their  masters 
and  pilots  ;  and  to  fix  such  price  for  their  remuner- 
ation as  the  officers  should  deem  just  and  reason- 
able. To  supply  the  want  of  voluntary  recruits, 
a  measure  was  adopted  at  the  suggestion  of  Co- 
lumbus,* which  shows  the  desperate  alternatives 
to  which  he  was  reduced  by  the  great  reaction  of 
public  sentiment.  This  was  to  commute  the  sen- 
tences of  criminals  condemned  to  banishment,  to 
the  galleys,  or  to  the  mines,  into  transportation 
to  the  new  settlements,  where  they  were  to  labor 
in  the  public  service  without  pay.  Those  whose 
sentence  was  banishment  for  life,  to  be  transport- 
ed for  ten  years  ;  those  banished  for  a  specific 
term,  to  be  transported  for  half  that  time.  A  gen- 
eral pardon  was  published  for  all  malefactors  at 
large,  who  within  a  certain  time  should  surrender 
themselves  to  the  admiral  and  embark  for  the 
colonies  ;  those  who  had  committed  offences  mer- 
iting death,  to  serve  for  two  years,  those  whose 
misdeeds  were  of  a  lighter  nature,  to  serve  for  one 
year.f  Those  only  were  excepted  from  this  indul- 
gence who  had  committed  heresy,  treason,  coin- 
ing, murder,  and  certain  other  specific  crimes. 
This  pernicious  measure,  calculated  to  poison  the 
population  of  an  infant  community  at  its  very 
source,  was  a  fruitful  cause  of  trouble  to  Colum- 
bus, and  of  misery  and  detriment  to  the  colony.  It 
has  been  frequently  adopted  by  various  nations, 
whose  superior  experience  should  have  taught  them 
better,  and  has  proved  the  bane  of  many  a  rising 
settlement.  It  is  assuredly  as  unnatural  for  a 
metropolis  to  cast  forth  its  crimes  and  vices  upon 
its  colonies,  as  it  would  be  for  a  parent  wilfully 
to  engraft  disease  upon  his  children.  In  both  in- 
stances the  obligation  of  nature  is  vitiated  ;  nor 
should  it  be  matter  of  surprise,  if  the  seeds  of  evil 
thus  sown  should  bring  forth  bitter  retribution. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  violent  expedients, 
there  was  still  a  ruinous  delay  in  fitting  out  the 
expedition.  This  is  partly  accounted  for  by  changes 
which  took  place  in  the  persons  appointed  to  su- 
perintend the  affairs  of  the  Indies.  These  con- 
cerns had  for  a  time  been  consigned  to  Antonio 
de  Torres,  in  whose  name,  conjointly  with  that  of 
Columbus,  many  of  the  official  documents  had 


1  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  112,  MS. 
f  Munoz,  lib.  vi.  §  19. 


been  made  out.  In  consequence  of  high  and  un- 
reasonable demands  on  the  part  of  Torres,  he  was 
removed  from  office,  and  Juan  Rodriguez  de  Fon- 
seca,  Bishop  of  Badajos,  reinstated.  The  papers 
had,  therefore,  to  be  made  out  anew,  and  fresh 
contracts  formed.  While  these  concerns  were 
tardily  attended  to,  the  queen  was  suddenly  over- 
whelmed with  affliction  by  the  death  of  her  only 
son,  Prince  Juan,  whose  nuptials  had  been  cele- 
brated with  such  splendor  in  the  spring.  It  was 
the  first  of  a  series  of  domestic  calamities  which 
assailed  her  affectionate  heart,  and  overwhelmed 
her  with  affliction  for  the  remainder  of  her  days. 
In  the  midst  of  her  distress,  however,  she  still 
thought  of  Columbus.  In  consequence  of  his  ur- 
gent representations  of  the  misery  to  which  the 
colony  must  be  reduced,  two  ships  were  dispatch- 
ed in  the  beginning  of  1498,  under  the  command 
of  Pedro  Fernandez  Coronel,  freighted  with  sup- 
plies. The  necessary  funds  were  advanced  by  the 
queen  herself,  out  of  the  moneys  intended  to  form 
the  endowment  of  her  daughter  Isabella,  then  be- 
trothed to  Emanuel,  King  of  Portugal.  An  in- 
stance of  her  kind  feeling  toward  Columbus  was 
also  evinced  in  the  time  of  her  affliction  ;  his  two 
sons,  Diego  and  Fernando,  had  been  pages  to  the 
deceased  prince  ;  the  queen  now  took  them,  in 
the  same  capacity,  into  her  own  service. 

With  all  this  zealous  disposition  on  the  part  of 
the  queen,  Columbus  still  met  with  the  most  in- 
jurious and  discouraging  delays  in  preparing  the 
six  remaining  vessels  for  his  voyage.  His  cold- 
blooded enemy  Fonseca,  having  the  superintend- 
ence of  Indian  affairs,  was  enabled  to  impede  and 
retard  all  his  plans.  The  various  petty  officers  and 
agents  employed  in  the  concerns  of  the  armament 
were  many  of  them  minions  of  the  bishop,  and 
knew  that  they  were  gratifying  him  in  annoying 
Columbus.  They  looked  upon  the  latter  as  a  man 
declining  in  popularity,  who  might  be  offended 
with  impunity  ;  they  scrupled  not,  therefore,  to 
throw  all  kinds  of  difficulties  in  his  path,  and  to 
treat  him  occasionally  with  that  arrogance  which 
petty  and  ignoble  men  in  place  are  prone  to  ex- 
ercise. 

It  seems  almost  incredible  at  the  present  day 
that  such  important  and  glorious  enterprises 
should  have  been  subject  to  such  despicable  mo- 
lestations. Columbus  bore  them  all  with  silent 
indignation.  He  was  a  stranger  in  the  land  he 
was  benefiting  ;  he  felt  that  the  popular  tide  was 
setting  against  him,  and  that  it  was  necessary  to 
tolerate  many  present  grievances  for  the  sake  of 
effecting  his  great  purposes.  So  wearied  and  dis- 
heartened, however,  did  he  become  by  the  imped- 
iments artfully  thrown  in  his  way,  and  so  dis- 
gusted by  the  prejudices  of  the  fickle  public,  that 
he  at  one  time  thought  of  abandoning  his  discov- 
eries altogether.  He  was  chiefly  induced  to  per- 
severe by  his  grateful  attachment  to  the  queen, 
and  his  desire  to  achieve  something  that  might 
cheer  and  animate  her  under  her  afflictions.* 

At  length,  after  all  kinds  of  irritating  delays, 
the  six  vessels  were  fitted  for  sea,  though  it  was 
impossible  to  conquer  the  popular  repugnance  to 
the  service,  sufficiently  to  enlist  the  allotted  num- 
ber of  men.  In  addition  to  the  persons  in  employ 
already  enumerated,  a  physician,  surgeon,  and 
apothecary  were  sent  out  for  the  relief  of  the  col- 
ony, and  several  priests  to  replace  Friar  Boyle 
and  certain  of  his  discontented  brethren  ;  while  a 
number  of  musicians  were  embarked  by  the  ad- 
miral to  cheer  and  enliven  the  colonists. 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  nurse  of  Prince  Juan. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


135 


The  insolence  which  Columbus  had  suffered 
from  the  minions  of  Fonseca  throughout  this  long 
protracted  time  of  preparation  harassed  him  to 
the  last  moment  of  his  sojourn  in  Spain,  and  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  very  water's  edge.  Among  the 
worthless  hirelings  who  had  annoyed  him,  the 
most  noisy  and  presuming  was  one  Ximeno  Bre- 
viesca,  treasurer  or  accountant  of  Fonseca.  He 
was  not  an  old  Christian,  observes  the  venerable 
Las  Casas  ;  by  which  it  is  to  be  understood  that 
he  was  either  a  Jew  or  a  Moor  converted  to  the 
Catholic  faith.  He  had  an  impudent  front  and  an 
unbridled  tongue,  and,  echoing  the  sentiments  of 
his  patron  the  bishop,  had  been  loud  in  his  abuse 
of  the  admiral  and  his  enterprises.  The  very  day 
when  the  squadron  was  on  the  point  of  weighing 
anchor,  Columbus  was  assailed  by  the  insolence 
of  this  Ximeno,  either  on  the  shore  when  about  to 
embark,  or  on  board  of  his  ship  where  he  had  just 
entered.  In  the  hurry  of  the  moment  he  forgot 
his  usual  self-command  ;  his  indignation,  hither- 
to repressed,  suddenly  burst  forth  ;  he  struck  the 
despicable  minion  to  the  ground,  and  kicked  him 
repeatedly,  venting  in  this  unguarded  paroxysm 
the  accumulated  griefs  and  vexations  which  had 
long  rankled  in  his  mind.* 

Nothing  could  demonstrate  more  strongly  what 
Columbus  had  previously  suffered  from  the  ma- 
chinations of  unworthy  men,  than  this  transport 


of  passion,  so  unusual  in  his  well-governed  temper. 
He  deeply  regretted  it,  and  in  a  letter  written 
some  time  afterward  to  the  sovereigns,  he  en- 
deavored to  obviate  the  injury  it  might  do  him  in 
their  opinion,  through  the  exaggeration  and  false 
coloring  of  his  enemies.  His  apprehensions  were 
not  ill-founded,  for  Las  Casas  attributes  the  hu- 
miliating measures  shortly  after  adopted  by  the 
sovereigns  toward  Columbus,  to  the  unfavorable 
impression  produced  by  this  affair.  It  had  hap- 
pened near  at  home,  as  it  were,  under  the  very 
eye  of  the  sovereigns  ;  it  spoke,  therefore,  more 
quickly  to  their  feelings  than  more  important  al- 
legations from  a  distance.  The  personal  castiga- 
tion  of  a  public  officer  was  represented  as  a  fla- 
grant instance  of  the  vindictive  temper  of  Colum- 
bus, and  a  corroboration  of  the  charges  of  cruelty 
and  oppression  sent  from  the  colony.  As  Ximeno 
was  a  creature  of  the  invidious  Fonseca,  the  affair 
was  represented  to  the  sovereigns  in  the  most 
odious  point  of  view.  Thus  the  generous  inten- 
tions of  princes,  and  the  exalted  services  of  their 
subjects,  are  apt  to  be  defeated  by  the  interven- 
tion of  cold  and  crafty  men  in  place.  By  his  im- 
placable hostility  to  Columbus,  and  the  secret  ob- 
structions which  he  threw  in  the  way  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  human  enterprises,  Fonseca  has  in- 
sured perpetuity  to  his  name,  coupled  with  the  con- 
tempt of  every  generous  mind, 


BOOK  X. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEPARTURE    OF    COLUMBUS    FROM  SPAIN  ON  HIS 
THIRD  VOYAGE — DISCOVERY  OF  TRINIDAD. 

[I498.] 

ON  the  30th  of  May,  1498,  Columbus  set  sail 
from  the  port  of  San  Lucar  de  Barrameda,  with 
his  squadron  of  six  vessels,  on  his  third  voyage  of 
discovery.  The  route  he  proposed  to  take  was 
different  from  that  pursued  in  his  former  voyages. 
He  intended  to  depart  from  the  Cape  de  Verde 
Islands,  sailing  to  the  south-west,  until  he  should 
come  under  the  equinoctial  line,  then  to  steer  di- 
rectly westward,  with  the  favor  of  the  trade-winds, 
until  he  should  arrive  at  land,  or  find  himself  in 
the  longitude  of  Hispaniola.  Various  considera- 
tions induced  him  to  adopt  this  course.  In  his 
preceding  voyage,  when  he  coasted  the  southern 
side  of  Cuba,  under  the  belief  that  it  was  the  con- 
tinent of  Asia,  he  had  observed  that  it  swept  off 
toward  the  south.  From  this  circumstance,  and 
from  information  gathered  among  the  natives  of 
the  Caribbee  Islands,  he  was  induced  to  believe 
that  a  great  tract  of  the  main-land  lay  to  the  south 
of  the  countries  he  had  already  discovered.  King 
John  II.  of  Portugal  appears  to  have  entertained  a 
similar  idea  ;  as  Herrera  records  an  opinion  ex- 
pressed by  that  monarch,  that  there  was  a  conti- 
nent in  the  southern  ocean. f  If  this  were  the 
case,  it  was  supposed  by  Columbus  that,  in  pro- 
portion as  he  approached  the  equator,  and  extend- 
ed his  discoveries  to  climates  more  and  more  un- 
der the  torrid  influence  of  the  sun,  he  should  find 


*  Las  Casas.  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  126,  MS. 
f  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  9. 


the  productions  of  nature  sublimated  by  its  rays 
to  more  perfect  and  precious  qualities.  He  was 
strengthened  in  this  belief  by  a  letter  written  to 
him  at  the  command  of  the  queen,  by  one  Jayne 
Ferrer,  an  eminent  and  learned  lapidary,  who,  in 
the  course  of  his  trading  for  precious  stones  and 
metals,  had  been  in  the  Levant  and  in  various 
parts  of  the  East  ;  had  conversed  with  the  mer- 
chants of  the  remote  parts  of  Asia  and  Africa, 
and  the  natives  of  India,  Arabia,  and  Ethiopia, 
and  was  considered  deeply  versed  in  geography 
generally,  but  especially  in  the  natural  histories  of 
those  countries  whence  the  valuable  merchandise 
in  which  he  dealt  was  procured.  In  this  letter 
Ferrer  assured  Columbus  that,  according  to  his 
experience,  the  rarest  objects  of  commerce,  such 
as  gold,  precious  stones,  drugs,  and  spices,  were 
chiefly  to  be  found  in  the  regions  about  the  equi- 
noctial line,  where  the  inhabitants  were  black,  or 
darkly  colored  ;  and  that  until  the  admiral  should 
arrive  among  people  of  such  complexions  he  did 
not  think  he  would  find  those  articles  in  great 
abundance.* 

Columbus  expected  to  find  such  people  more  to 
the  south.  He  recollected  that  the  natives  of  His- 
paniola had  spoken  of  black  men  who  had  once 
come  to  their  island  from  the  south  and  south- 
east, the  heads  of  whose  javelins  were  of  a  sort  of 
metal  which  they  called  Guanin.  They  had  given 
the  admiral  specimens  of  this  metal,  which  on  be- 
ing assayed  in  Spain,  proved  to  be  a  mixture 
of  eighteen  parts  gold,  six  silver,  and  eight  cop- 
per, a  proof  of  valuable  mines  in  the  country 
whence  they  came.  Charlevoix  conjectures  that 
these  black  people  may  have  come  from  the  Ca- 


*  Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  ii.  doc.  68. 


136 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


naries,  or  the  western  coast  of  Africa,  and  been 
driven  by  tempest  to  the  shores  of  Hispaniola.*  It 
is  probable,  however,  that  Columbus  had  been 
misinformed  as  to  their  color,  or  had  misunder- 
stood his  informants.  It  is  difficult  to  believe  that 
the  natives  ot  Africa,  or  the  Canaries,  could  have 
performed  a  voyage  of  such  magnitude,  in  the 
frail  and  scantily  provided  barks  they  were  ac- 
customed to  use. 

It  was  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  all  these  suppo- 
sitions, and  if  correct,  to  arrive  at  the  favored  and 
opulent  countries  about  the  equator,  inhabited  by 
people  of  similar  complexions  with  those  of  the 
Africans  under  the  line,  that  Columbus  in  his 
present  voyage  to  the  New  World  took  a  course 
much  farther  to  the  south  than  that  which  he  had 
hitherto  pursued. 

Having  heard  that  a  French  squadron  was 
cruising  off  Cape  St.  Vincent,  he  stood  to  the 
south-west  after  leaving  St.  Lucar,  touching  at  the 
islands  of  Porto  Santo  and  Madeira,  where  he  re- 
mained a  few  days  taking  in  wood  and  water  and 
other  supplies,  and  then  continued  his  course  to 
the  Canary  Islands.  On  the  igth  of  June  he  ar- 
rived at  Gomara,  where  there  lay  at  anchor  a 
French  cruiser  with  two  Spanish  prizes.  On  see- 
ing the  squadron  of  Columbus  standing  into  the 
harbor,  the  captain  of  the  privateer  put  to  sea  in 
all  haste,  followed  by  his  prizes  ;  one  of  which,  in 
the  hurry  of  the  moment,  left  part  of  her  crew  on 
shore,  making  sail  with  only  four  of  her  arma- 
ment and  six  Spanish  prisoners.  The  admiral  at 
first  mistook  them  for  merchant  ships  alarmed  by 
his  warlike  appearance  ;  when  informed  of  the 
truth,  however,  he  sent  three  of  his  vessels  in  pur- 
suit, but  they  were  too  distant  to  be  overtaken. 
The  six  Spaniards,  however,  on  board  of  one  of 
the  prizes,  seeing  assistance  at  hand,  rose  on  their 
captors,  and  the  admiral's  vessel  coming  up,  the 
prize  was  retaken,  and  brought  back  in  triumph 
to  the  port.  The  admiral  relinquished  the  ship  to 
the  captain,  and  gave  up  the  prisoners  to  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  island,  to  be  exchanged  for  six  Span- 
iards carried  off  by  the  cruiser,  f 

Leaving  Gomara  on  the  2ist  of  June,  Columbus 
divided  his  squadron  off  the  island  of  Ferro  :  three 
of  the  ships  he  dispatched  direct  for  Hispaniola, 
to  carry  supplies  to  the  colony.  One  of  these  ships 
was  commanded  by  Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Caravajal, 
a  native  of  Baeza,  a  man  of  much  worth  and  integ- 
rity ;  the  second  by  Pedro  de  Arana  of  Cordova, 
brother  of  Dofia  Beatrix  Henriquez,  the  mother  of 
the  admiral's  second  son  Fernando.  He  was 
cousin  also  of  the  unfortunate  officer  who  com- 
manded the  fortress  of  La  Navidad  at  the  time  of 
the  massacre.  The  third  was  commanded  by 
Juan  Antonio  Columbus  (or  Colombo),  a  Genoese, 
related  to  the  admiral,  and  a  man  of  much  judg- 
ment and  capacity.  These  captains  were  alter- 
nately to  have  the  command,  and  bear  the  signal 
light  a  week  at  a  time.  The  admiral  carefully 
pointed  out  their  course.  When  they  came  in 
sight  of  Hispaniola  they  were  to  steer  for  the  south 
side,  for  the  new  port  and  town,  which  he  sup- 
posed to  be  by  this  time  established  in  the  mouth 
of  the  Ozema,  according  to  royal  orders  sent  out 
by  Coronel.  With  the  three  remaining  vessels 
the  admiral  prosecuted  his  voyage  toward  the 
Cape  de  Verde  Islands.  The  ship  in  which  he 
sailed  was  decked,  the  other  two  were  merchant 
caravels.  I  As  he  advanced  within  the  tropics 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  iii.  p,  162, 
f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  65. 
j  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  vi. 


the  change  of  climate  and  the  close  and  sultry 
weather  brought  on  a  severe  attack  of  the  gout, 
followed  by  a  violent  fever.  Notwithstanding  his 
painful  illness,  he  enjoyed  the  full  possession  of 
his  faculites,  and  continued  to  keep  his  reckoning 
and  make  his  observations  with  his  usual  vigi- 
lance and  minuteness. 

On  the  27th  of  June  he  arrived  among  the  Cape 
de  Verde  Islands,  which,  instead  of  the  freshness 
and  verdure  which  their  name  would  betoken, 
presented  an  aspect  of  the  most  cheerless  sterility. 
He  remained  among  these  islands  but  a  very  few 
days,  being  disappointed  in  his  expectation  of  ob- 
taining goats'  flesh  for  ships'  provisions,  and  cat- 
tle for  stock  for  the  island  of  Hispaniola.  To  pro- 
cure them  would  require  some  delay  ;  in  the 
mean  time  the  health  of  himself  and  of  his  people 
suffered  under  the  influence  of  the  weather.  The 
atmosphere  was  loaded  with  clouds  and  vapors  ; 
neither  sun  nor  star  was  to  be  seen  ;  a  sultry,  de- 
pressing temperature  prevailed  ;  and  the  livid 
looks  of  the  inhabitants  bore  witness  to  the  insa- 
lubrity of  the  climate.* 

Leaving  the  island  of  Buena  Vista  on  the  5th  of 
July,  Columbus  stood  to  the  south-west,  intending 
to  continue  on  until  he  found  himself  under  the 
equinoctial  line.  The  currents,  however,  which 
ran  to  the  north  and  north-west  among  these 
islands  impeded  his  progress,  and  kept  him  for 
two  days  in  sight  of  the  Island  del  Fuego.  The 
volcanic  summit  of  this  island,  which,  seen  at  a  dis- 
tance, resembled  a  church  with  a  lofty  steeple,  and 
which  was  said  at  times  to  emit  smoke  and  flames, 
was  the  last  point  discerned  of  the  Old  World. 

Continuing  to  the  south-west  about  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  leagues,  he  found  himself,  on  the 
1 3th  of  July,  according  to  his  observations,  in  the 
fifth  degree  of  north  latitude.  He  had  entered  that 
region  which  extends  for  eight  or  ten  degrees  on 
each  side  of  the  line,  and  is  known  among  seamen 
by  the  name  of  the  calm  latitudes.  The  trade- 
winds  from  the  south-east  and  north-east,  meet- 
ing in  the  neighborhood  of  the  equator,  neutralize 
each  other,  and  a  steady  calmness  of  the  elements 
is  produced.  The  whole  sea  is  like  a  mirror,  and 
vessels  remain  almost  motionless,  with  flapping 
sails  ;  the  crews  panting  under  the  heat  of  a  ver- 
tical sun,  unmitigated  by  any  refreshing  breeze. 
Weeks  are  sometimes  employed  in  crossing  this 
torpid  tract  of  the  ocean. 

The  weather  for  some  time  past  had  been  cloudy 
and  oppressive  ;  but  on  the  I3th  there  was  a 
bright  and  burning  sun.  The  wind  suddenly  fell, 
and  a  dead  sultry  calm  commenced,  which  lasted 
for  eight  days.  The  air  was  like  a  furnace  ;  the 
tar  melted,  the  seams  of  the  ship  yawned  ;  the 
salt  meat  became  putrid  ;  the  wheat  was  parched 
as  if  with  fire  ;  the  hoops  shrank  from  the  wine 
and  water  casks,  some  of  which  leaked,  and  others 
burst  ;  while  the  heat  in  the  holds  of  the  vessels 
was  so  suffocating  that  no  one  could  remain  be- 
low a  sufficient  time  to  prevent  the  damage  that 
was  taking  place.  The  mariners  lost  all  strength 
and  spirits,  and  sank  under  the  oppressive  heat. 
It  seemed  as  if  the  old  fable  of  the  torrid  zone  was 
about  to  be  realized  ;  and  that  they  were  ap- 
proaching a  fiery  region,  where  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  exist.  It  is  true  the  heavens  were,  for 
a  great  part  of  the  time,  overcast,  and  there  were 
drizzling  showers  ;  but  the  atmosphere  was  close 
and  stifling,  and  there  was  that  combination  of 
heat  and  moisture  which  relaxes  all  the  energies 
of  the  human  frame. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  65. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


During  this  time  the  admiral  suffered  extremely 
from  the  gout,  but,  as  usual,  the  activity  of  his  mind, 
heightened  by  his  anxiety,  allowed  him  no  indul- 
gence nor  repose.  He  was  in  an  unknown  part 
of  the  ocean,  where  everything  depended  upon  his 
vigilance  and  sagacity  ;  and  was  continually 
watching  the  phenomena  of  the  elements,  and 
looking  out  for  signs  of  land.  Finding  the  heat 
so  intolerable,  he  altered  his  course,  and  steered 
to  the  south-west,  hoping  to  find  a  milder  temper- 
ature further  on,  even  under  the  same  parallel. 
He  had  observed,  in  his  previous  voyages,  that 
after  sailing  westward  a  hundred  leagues  from 
the  Azores,  a  wonderful  change  took  place  in  the 
sea  and  sky,  both  becoming  serene  and  bland, 
and  the  air  temperate  and  refreshing.  He  imag- 
ined that  a  peculiar  mildness  and  suavity  pre- 
vailed over  a  great  tract  of  ocean  extending  from 
north  to  south,  into  which  the  navigator,  sailing 
from  east  to  west,  would  suddenly  enter,  as  if 
crossing  a  line.  The  event  seemed  to  justify  his 
theory,  tor  after  making  their  way  slowly  for  some 
time  to  the  westward,  through  an  ordeal  of  heats 
and  calms,  with  a  murky,  stifling  atmosphere,  the 
ships  all  at  once  emerged  into  a  genial  region,  a 
pleasant,  cooling  breeze  played  over  the  surface  of 
the  sea,  and  gently  filled  their  sails,  the  close  and 
drizzling  clouds  broke  away,  the  sky  became  se- 
rene and  clear,  and  the  sun  shone  forth  with  all 
its  splendor,  but  no  longer  with  a  burning  heat. 

Columbus  had  intended,  on  reaching  this  tem- 
perate tract,  to  have  stood  once  more  to  the  south 
and  then  westward  ;  but  the  late  parching  weather 
had  opened  the  seams  of  his  ships,  and  caused 
them  to  leak  excessively,  so  that  it  was  necessary 
to  seek  a  harbor  as  soon  as  possible,  where  they 
might  be  refitted.  Much  of  the  provisions  also 
was  spoiled,  and  the  water  nearly  exhausted.  He 
kept  on  therefore  directly  to  the  west,  trusting, 
from  the  flights  of  birds  and  other  favorable  indi- 
cations, he  should  soon  arrive  at  land.  Day  after 
day  passed  away  without  his  expectations  being 
realized.  The  distresses  of  his  men  became  con- 
tinually more  urgent  ;  wherefore,  supposing  him- 
self in  the  longitude  of  the  Caribbee  Islands,  he 
bore  away  toward  the  northward  in  search  of 
them.* 

On  the  3 ist  of  July  there  was  not  above  one 
cask  of  water  remaining  in  each  ship,  when, 
about  midday,  a  mariner  at  the  masthead  beheld 
the  summits  of  three  mountains  rising  above  the 
horizon,  and  gave  the  joyful  cry  of  land.  As  the 
ships  drew  nearer  it  was  seen  that  these  moun- 
tains were  united  at  the  base.  Columbus  had  de- 
termined to  give  the  first  land  he  should  behold 
the  name  of  the  Trinity.  The  appearance  of 
these  three  mountains  united  into  one  struck  him 
as  a  singular  coincidence  ;  and,  with  a  solemn 
feeling  of  devotion,  he  gave  the  island  the  name 
of  La  Trinidad,  which  it  bears  at  the  present  day.f 


CHAPTER  II. 

VOYAGE  THROUGH  THE  GULF  OF  PARIA. 
[1498-] 

SHAPING  his  course  for  the  island,  Columbus 
approached  its  eastern  extremity,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Punta  de  la  Galera,  from  a  rock 
in  the  sea,  which  resembled  a  galley  under  sail. 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  67. 
f  Ibid.,  ubi  sup. 


He  was  obliged  to  coast  for  five  leagues  along 
the  southern  shore  before  he  could  find  safe  an- 
chorage. On  the  following  day  (August  i),  he  con- 
tinued coasting  westward,  in  search  of  water  and 
a  convenient  harbor  where  the  vessels  might  be 
careened.  He  was  surprised  at  the  verdure  and 
fertility  of  the  country,  having  expected  to  find  it 
more  parched  and  sterile  as  he  approached  the 
equator  ;  whereas  he  beheld  groves  of  palm-trees 
and  luxuriant  forests,  sweeping  down  to  the  sea- 
side, with  fountains  and  running  streams.  The 
shores  were  low  and  uninhabited,  but  the  country 
rose  in  the  interior,  was  cultivated  in  many  places, 
and  enlivened  by  hamlets  and  scattered  habita- 
tions. In  a  word,  the  softness  and  purity  of  the 
climate,  and  the  verdure,  freshness,  and  sweet- 
ness of  the  country,  appeared  to  him  to  equal  the 
delights  of  early  spring  in  the  beautiful  province 
of  Valencia.* 

Anchoring  at  a  point  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  Punta  de  la  Playa,  he  sent  the  boats  on 
shore  for  water.  They  found  an  abundant  and 
limpid  brook,  at  which  they  filled  their  casks,  but 
there  was  no  safe  harbor  for  the  vessels,  nor  could 
they  meet  with  any  of  the  islanders,  though  they 
found  prints  of  footsteps,  and  various  fishing  im- 
plements, left  behind  in  the  hurry  of  the  flight. 
There  were  tracks  also  of  animals,  which  they 
supposed  to  be  goats,  but  which  must  have  been 
deer,  with  which,  as  it  was  afterward  ascertained, 
the  island  abounded. 

While  coasting  the  island  Columbus  beheld 
land  to  the  south,  stretching  to  the  distance  of 
more  than  twenty  leagues.  It  was  that  low  tract 
of  coast  intersected  by  the  numerous  branches  of 
the  Oronoco,  but  the  admiral,  supposing  it  to  be 
an  island,  gave  it  the  name  of  La  Isla  Santa  ;  lit- 
tle imagining  that  he  now  for  the  first  time  be- 
held that  continent,  that  Terra  Firma,  which  had 
been  the  object  of  his  earnest  search. 

On  the  2d  of  August  he  continued  on  to  the 
south-west  point  of  Trinidad,  which  he  called 
Point  Arena!.  It  stretched  toward  a  correspond- 
ing point  of  Terra  Firma,  making  a  narrow  pass, 
with  a  high  rock  in  the  centre,  to  which  he  gave 
the  name  of  El  Gallo.  Near  this  pass  the  ships 
cast  anchor.  As  they  were  approaching  this 
place,  a  large  canoe  with  five  and  twenty  Indians 
put  off  from  the  shore,  but  paused  on  coming 
within  bow-shot,  and  hailed  the  ships  in  a  language 
which  no  one  on  board  understood.  Columbus 
tried  to  allure  the  savages  on  board,  by  friendly 
signs,  by  the  display  of  looking-glasses,  basins  of 
polished  metal,  and  various  glittering  trinkets, 
but  all  in  vain.  They  remained  gazing  in  mute 
wonder  for  above  two  hours,  with  their  paddles  in 
their  hands,  ready  to  take  to  flight  on  the  least  at- 
tempt to  approach  them.  They  were  all  young 
men,  well  formed,  and  naked,  excepting  bands 
and  fillets  of  cotton  about  their  heads,  and  col- 
ored cloths  of  the  same  about  their  loins.  They 
were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  the  latter 
feathered  and  tipped  with  bone,  and  they  had  buck- 
lers, an  article  of  armor  seen  for  the  first  time 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  New  World. 

Finding  all  other  means  to  attract  them  in- 
effectual, Columbus  now  tried  the  power  of  music. 
He  knew  the  fondness  of  the  Indians  for  dances 
performed  to  the  sound  of  their  rude  drums  and 
the  chant  of  their  traditional  ballads.  He  ordered 
something  similar  to  be  executed  on  the  deck  of 
his  ship,  where,  while  one  man  sang  to  the  beat 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Sovereigns  from  His- 
paniola,  Navarrete  Colec.,  torn.  i. 


138 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


of  the  tabor,  and  the  sound  of  other  musical  in- 
struments, the  ship-boys  danced,  after  the  popular 
Spanish  fashion.  No  sooner,  however,  did  this 
symphony  strike  up,  than  the  Indians,  mistaking 
it  for  a  signal  of  hostilities,  put  their  bucklers  on 
their  arms,  seized  their  bows,  and  let  fly  a  shower 
of  arrows.  This  rude  salutation  was  immediately 
answered  by  the  discharge  of  a  couple  of  cross- 
bows, which  put  the  auditors  to  flight,  and  con- 
cluded this  singular  entertainment. 

Though  thus  shy  of  the  admiral's  vessel,  they 
approached  one  of  the  caravels  without  hesitation, 
and,  running  under  the  stern,  had  a  parley  with 
the  pilot,  who  gave  a  cap  and  a  mantle  to  the  one 
who  appeared  to  be  the  chieftain.  He  received 
the  presents  with  great  delight,  inviting  the  pilot 
by  signs  to  come  to  land,  where  he  should  be  well 
entertained,  and  receive  great  presents  in  return. 
On  his  appearing  to  consent,  they  went  to  shore 
to  wait  for  him.  The  pilot  put  off  in  the  boat  of 
the  caravel  to  ask  permission  of  the  admiral  ;  but 
the  Indians,  seeing  him  go  on  board  of  the  hostile 
ship,  suspected  some  treachery,  and  springing 
into  their  canoe,  darted  away,  nor  was  anything 
more  seen  of  them.* 

The  complexion  and  other  physical  characteris- 
tics of  these  savages  caused  much  surprise  and 
speculation  in  the  mind  of  Columbus.  Supposing 
himself  in  the  seventh  degree  of  latitude,  though 
actually  in  the  tenth,  he  expected  to  find  the  in- 
habitants similar  to  the  natives  of  Africa  under 
the  same  parallel,  who  were  black  and  ill-shaped, 
with  crisped  hair,  or  rather  wool  ;  whereas  these 
were  well  formed,  had  long  hair,  and  were  even 
fairer  than  those  more  distant  from  the  equator. 
The  climate,  also,  instead  of  being  hotter  as  he  ap- 
proached the  equinoctial,  appeared  more  temper- 
ate. He  was  now  in  the  dog-days,  yet  the  nights 
and  mornings  were  so  cool  that  it  was  necessary 
to  use  covering  as  in  winter.  This  is  the  case  in 
many  parts  of  the  torrid  zone,  especially  in  calm 
weather,  when  there  is  no  wind,  for  nature,  by 
heavy  dews,  in  the  long  nights  of  those  latitudes, 
cools  and  refreshes  the  earth  after  the  great  heats 
of  the  day.  Columbus  was  at  first  greatly  per- 
plexed by  these  contradictions  to  the  course  of  na- 
ture, as  observed  in  the  Old  World  ;  they  were 
in  opposition  also  to  the  expectations  he  had 
founded  on  the  theory  of  Ferrer  the  lapidary,  but 
they  gradually  contributed  to  the  formation  of  a 
theory  which  was  springing  up  in  his  active  im- 
agination, and  which  will  be  presently  shown. 

After  anchoring  at  Point  Arenal,  the  crews 
were  permitted  to  land  and  refresh  themselves. 
There  were  no  runs  of  water,  but  by  sinking  pits 
in  the  sand  they  soon  obtained  sufficient  to  fill 
the  casks.  The  anchorage  at  this  place,  however, 
was  extremely  insecure.  A  rapid  current  set  from 
the  eastward  through  the  strait  formed  by  the 
main-land  and  the  island  of  Trinidad,  flowing,  as 
Columbus  observed,  night  and  day,  with  as  much 
fury  as  the  Guadalquiver,  when  swollen  by  floods. 
In  the  pass  between  Point  Arenal  and  its  corre- 
spondent point,  the  confined  current  boiled  and 
raged  to  such  a  degree  that  he  thought  it  was 
crossed  by  a  reef  of  rocks  and  shoals,  preventing 
all  entrance,  with  others  extending  beyond,  over 
which  the  waters  roared  like  breakers  on  a  rocky 
shore.  To  this  pass,  from  its  angry  and  danger- 
ous appearance,  he  gave  the  name  of  Boca  del 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  88.   P.   Martyr,  decad. 
i.    lib.    vi.     Las   Casas,    Hist.    Ind.,  lib.   i.   cap.  138. 
MS.  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Castilian  Sovereigns, 
Tavarrete  Colec.,  torn.  i. 


Sierpe  (the  Mouth  of  the  Serpent).  He  thus  found 
himself  placed  between  two  difficulties.  The  con- 
tinual current  from  the  east  seemed  to  prevent  all 
return,  while  the  rocks  which  appeared  to  beset 
the  pass  threatened  destruction  if  he  should  pro- 
ceed. Being  on  board  of  his  ship,  late  at  night, 
kept  awake  by  painful  illness  and  an  anxious  and 
watchful  spirit,  he  heard  a  terrible  roaring  from 
the  south,  and  beheld  the  sea  heaped  up,  as  it 
were,  into  a  great  ridge  or  hill,  the  height  of  the 
ship,  covered  with  foam,  and  rolling  toward  him 
with  a  tremendous  uproar.  As  this  furious  surge 
approached,  rendered  more  terrible  in  appearance 
by  the  obscurity  of  night,  he  trembled  for  the 
safety  of  his  vessels.  His  own  ship  was  suddenly 
lifted  up  to  such  a  height  that  he  dreaded  lest  it 
should  be  overturned  or  cast  upon  the  rocks, 
while  another  of  the  ships  was  torn  violently  from 
her  anchorage.  The  crews  were  for  a  time  in 
great  consternation,  fearing  they  should  be  swal- 
lowed up  ;  but  the  mountainous  surge  passed  on, 
and  gradually  subsided,  after  a  violent  contest 
with  the  counter-current  of  the  strait.*  This  sud- 
den rush  of  water,  it  is  supposed,  was  caused  by 
the  swelling  of  one  of  the  rivers  which  flow  into 
the  Gulf  of  Paria,  and  which  were  as  yet  unknown 
to  Columbus. 

Anxious  to  extricate  himself  from  this  danger- 
ous neighborhood,  he  sent  the  boats  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  to  sound  the  depth  of  water  at  the 
Boca  del  Sierpe,  and  to  ascertain  whether  it  was 
possible  for  ships  to  pass  through  to  the  northward. 
To  his  great  joy,  they  returned  with  a  report  that 
there  were  several  fathoms  of  water,  and  currents 
and  eddies  setting  both  ways,  either  to  enter  or 
return.  A  favorable  breeze  prevailing,  he  imme- 
diately made  sail,  and  passing  through  ihe  for- 
midable strait  in  safety,  found  himself  in  a  tran- 
quil expanse  beyond. 

He  was  now  on  the  inner  side  of  Trinidad.  To 
his  left  spread  the  broad  gulf  since  known  by  the 
name  of  Paria,  which  he  supposed  to  be  the  open 
sea,  but  was  surprised,  on  tasting  it,  to  find  the 
water  fresh.  He  continued  northward,  toward  a 
mountain  at  the  north-west  point  of  the  island, 
about  fourteen  leagues  from  Point  Arenal.  Here 
he  beheld  two  lofty  capes  opposite  each  other,  one 
on  the  island  of  Trinidad,  the  other  to  the  west, 
on  the  long  promontory  of  Paria,  which  stretches 
from  the  main-land  and  forms  the  northern  side  of 
the  gulf,  but  which  Columbus  mistook  for  an 
island,  and  named  Isla  de  Gracia. 

Between  these  capes  there  was  another  pass, 
which  appeared  even  more  dangerous  than  the 
Boca  del  Sierpe,  being  beset  with  rocks,  among 
which  the  current  forced  its  way  with  roaring  tur- 
bulence. To  this  pass  Columbus  gave  the  name 
of  Boca  del  Dragon.  Not  choosing  to  encounter 
its  apparent  dangers,  he  turned  northward,  on 
Sunday,  the  5th  of  August,  and  steered  along  the 
inner  side  of  the  supposed  island  of  Gracia,  in- 
tending to  keep  on  until  he  came  to  the  end  of  it, 
and  then  to  strike  northward  into  the  free  and 
open  ocean,  and  shape  his  course  for  Hispaniola. 

It  was  a  fair  and  beautiful  coast,  indented  with 
fine  harbors  lying  close  to  each  other  ;  the  coun- 
try cultivated  in  many  places,  in  others  covered 
with  fruit  trees  and  stately  forests,  and  watered 
by  frequent  streams.  What  greatly  astonished 
Columbus  was  still  to  find  the  water  fresh,  and 
that  it  grew  more  and  more  so  the  farther  he  pro- 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Castilian  Sovereigns, 
Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i.  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  de- 
cad,  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  10.  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  69. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


139 


ceeded  ;  it  being  that  season  of  the  year  when  the 
various  rivers  which  empty  themselves  into  this  gulf 
are  swollen  by  rains,  and  pour  forth  such  quan- 
tities of  fresh  water  as  to  conquer  the  saltness  of 
the  ocean.  He  was  also  surprised  at  the  placidity 
of  the  sea,  which  appeared  as  tranquil  and  safe  as 
one  vast  harbor,  so  that  there  was  no  need  of 
seeking  a  port  to  anchor  in. 

As  yet  he  had  not  been  able  to  hold  any  com- 
munication with  the  people  of  this  part  of  the  New 
World.  The  shores  which  he  had  visited,  though 
occasionally  cultivated,  were  silent  and  deserted, 
and,  excepting  the  fugitive  party  in  the  canoe  at 
Point  Arenal,  he  had  seen  nothing  of  the  natives. 
After  sailing  several  leagues  along  the  coast,  he 
anchored,  on  Monday,  the  6th  of  August,  at  a 
place  where  there  appeared  signs  of  cultivation, 
and  sent  the  boats  on  shore.  They  found  recent 
traces  of  people,  but  not  an  individual  was  to  be 
seen.  The  coast  was  hilly  Covered  with  beautiful 
and  fruitful  groves,  and  abounding  with  monkeys. 
Continuing  farther  westward,  to  where  the  coun- 
try was  more  level,  Columbus  anchored  in  a  river. 

Immediately  a  canoe,  with  three  or  four  Indians,- 
came  off  to  the  caravel  nearest  to  the  shore,  the 
captain  of  which,  pretending  a  desire  to  accom- 
pany them  to  land,  sprang  into  their  canoe,  over- 
turned it,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  his  seamen, 
secured  the  Indians  as  they  were  swimming. 
When  brought  to  the  admiral,  he  gave  them 
beads,  hawks'  bells,  and  sugar,  and  sent  them 
highly  gratified  on  shore,  where  many  of  their 
countrymen  were  assembled.  This  kind  treat- 
ment had  the  usual  effect.  Such  of  the  natives  as 
had  canoes  came  off  to  the  ships  with  the  fullest 
confidence.  They  were  tall  of  stature,  finely 
formed,  and  free  and  graceful  in  their  movements. 
Their  hair  was  long  and  straight  ;  some  wore  it 
cut  short,  but  none  of  them  braided  it,  as  was  the 
custom  among  the  natives  of  Hispaniola.  They 
were  armed  with  bows,  arrows,  and  targets  ;  the 
men  wore  cotton  cloths  about  their  heads  and 
loins,  beautifully  wrought  with  various  colors,  so 
as  at  a  distance  to  look  like  silk  ;  but  the  women 
were  entirely  naked.  They  brought  bread,  maize, 
aad  other  eatables,  with  different  kinds  of  bever- 
age, some  white,  made  from  maize,  and  resem- 
bling beer,  and  others  green,  of  a  vinous  flavor, 
and  expressed  from  various  fruits.  They  appeared 
to  judge  of  everything  by  the  sense  of  smell,  as 
others  examine  objects  by  the  sight  or  touch. 
When  they  approached  a  boat,  they  smelt  to  it, 
and  then  to  the  people.  In  like  manner  every- 
thing that  was  given  them  was  tried.  They  set 
but  little  value  upon  beads,  but  were  extravagantly 
delighted  with  hawks'  bells.  Brass  was  also  held 
in  high  estimation  ;  they  appeared  to  find  some- 
thing extremely  grateful  in  the  smell  of  it,  and 
called  it  Turey,  signifying  that  it  was  from  the 
skies.* 

From  these  Indians  Columbus  understood  that 
the  name  of  their  country  was  Paria,  and  that 
farther  to  the  west  he  would  find  it  more  popu- 
lous. Taking  several  of  them  to  serve  as  guides 
and  mediators,  he  proceeded  eight  leagues  west- 
ward to  a  point  which  he  called  Aguja  or  the 
Needle.  Here  he  arrived  at  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  When  the  day  dawned  he  was  delight- 
ed with  the  beauty  of  the  country.  It  was  culti- 
vated in  many  places,  highly  populous,  and 
adorned  with  magnificent  vegetation  ;  habitations 
were  interspersed  among  groves  laden  with  fruits 
and  flowers  ;  grape-vines  entwined  themselves 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  II. 


among  the  trees,  and  birds  of  brilliant  plumage 
fluttered  from  branch  to  branch.  The  air  was 
temperate  and  bland,  and  sweetened  by  the  fra- 
grance of  flowers  and  blossoms  ;  and  numerous 
fountains  and  limpid  streams  kept  up  a  universal 
verdure  and  freshness.  Columbus  was  so  much 
charmed  with  the  beauty  and  amenity  of  this  part 
of  the  coast  that  he  gave  it  the  name  of  The 
Gardens. 

The  natives  came  off  in  great  numbers,  in 
canoes,  of  superior  construction  to  those  hitherto 
seen,  being  very  large  and  light,  with  a  cabin  in 
the  centre  for  the  accommodation  of  the  owner 
and  his  family.  They  invited  Columbus,  in  the 
name  of  their  king,  to  come  to  land.  Many  of 
them  had  collars  and  burnished  plates  about  their 
necks,  of  that  inferior  kind  of  gold  called  by  the 
Indians  Guanin.  They  said  that  it  came  from  a 
high  land,  which  they  pointed  out,  at  no  great 
distance,  to  the  west,  but  intimated  that  it  was 
dangerous  to  go  there,  either  because  the  inhabi- 
tants were  cannibals,  or  the  place  infested  by 
venomous  animals.*  But  what  aroused  the  atten- 
tion and  awakened  the  cupidity  of  the  Spaniards, 
was  the  sight  of  strings  of  pearls  round  the  arms 
of  some  of  the  natives.  These,  they  informed  Co- 
lumbus, were  procured  on  the  sea-coast,  on  the 
northern  side  of  Paria,  which  he  still  supposed  to 
be  an  island  ;  and  they  showed  the  mother-of- 
pearl  shells  whence  they  had  been  taken.  Anxious 
for  further  information,  and  to  procure  specimens 
of  these  pearls  to  send  to  Spain,  he  dispatched  the 
boats  to  shore.  A  multitude  of  the  natives  came 
to  the  beach  to  receive  them,  headed  by  the  chief 
cacique  and  his  son.  They  treated  the  Spaniards 
with  profound  reverence,  as  beings  descended 
from  heaven,  and  conducted  them  to  a  spacious 
house,  the  residence  of  the  cacique,  where  they 
were  regaled  with  bread  and  various  fruits  of  ex- 
cellent flavor,  and  the  different  kinds  of  beverage 
already  mentioned.  While  they  were  in  the 
house,  the  men  remained  together  at  one  end  of 
it,  and  the  women  at  the  other.  After  they  had 
finished  their  collation  at  the  house  of  the  cacique, 
they  were  taken  to  that  of  his  son,  where  a  like 
repast  was  set  before  them.  These  people  were 
remarkably  affable,  though,  at  the  same  time, 
they  possessed  a  more  intrepid  and  martial  air 
and  spirit  than  the  natives  of  Cuba  and  His- 
paniola. They  were  fairer,  Columbus  observes, 
than  any  he  had  yet  seen,  though  so  near  to  the 
equinoctial  line,  where  he  had  expected  to  find 
them  of  the  color  of  Ethiopians.  Many  ornaments 
of  gold  were  seen  among  them,  but  all  of  an  in- 
ferior quality  :  one  Indian  had  a  piece  of  the  size 
of  an  apple.  They  had  various  kinds  of  domesti- 
cated parrots,  one  of  a  light  green  color,  with  a 
yellow  neck,  and  the  tips  of  the  wings  of  a  bright 
red  ;  others  of  the  size  of  domestic  fowls,  and  of  a 
vivid  scarlet,  excepting  some  azure  feathers  in  the 
wings.  These  they  readily  gave  to  the  Spaniards  ; 
but  what  the  latter  most  coveted  were  the  pearls, 
of  which  they  saw  many  necklaces  and  bracelets 
among  the  Indian  women.  The  latter  gladly  gave 
them  in  exchange  for  hawks'  bells  or  any  article 
of  brass,  and  several  specimens  of  fine  pearls  were 
procured  for  the  admiral  to  send  to  the  sover- 
eigns.f 

The  kindness  and  amity  of  this  people  were 
heightened  by  an  intelligent  demeanor  and  a  mar- 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Castilian  Sovereigns, 
Navarrete  Colec.,  torn.  i.  p.  252. 

f  Letter  of  Columbus.  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad. 
i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  n.  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  70. 


140 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


tial  frankness.  They  seemed  worthy  of  the  beau- 
tiful country  they  inhabited.  It  was  a  cause  of 
great  concern  both  to  them  and  the  Spaniards, 
that  they  could  not  understand  each  other's  lan- 
guage. They  conversed,  however,  by  signs  ; 
mutual  good-will  made  their  intercourse  easy  and 
pleasant  ;  and  at  the  hour  of  vespers  the  Spaniards 
returned  on  board  of  their  ships,  highly  gratified 
with  their  entertainment. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONTINUATION   OF    THE    VOYAGE    THROUGH  THE 
GULF   OF  PARIA — RETURN  TO   HISPANIOLA. 

[I498.] 

THE  quantity  of  fine  pearls  found  among  the 
natives  of  Paria  was  sufficient  to  arouse  the  san- 
guine anticipations  of  Columbus.  It  appeared  to 
corroborate  the  theory  of  Ferrer,  the  learned 
jeweller,  that,  as  he  approached  the  equator  he 
would  find  the  most  rare  and  precious  productions 
of  nature.  His  active  imagination,  with  its  intui- 
tive rapidity,  seized  upon  every  circumstance  in 
unison  with  his  wishes,  and,  combining  them, 
drew  thence  the  most  brilliant  inferences.  He 
had  read  in  Pliny  that  pearls  are  generated  from 
drops  of  dew  which  fall  into  the  mouths  of  oys- 
ters ;  if  so,  what  place  could  be  more  propitious 
to  their  growth  and  multiplication  than  the  coast 
of  Paria  ?  The  dew  in  those  parts  was  heavy  and 
abundant,  and  the  oysters  were  so  plentiful  that 
they  clustered  about  the  roots  and  pendant 
branches  of  the  mangrove  trees,  which  grew 
within  the  margin  of  the  tranquil  sea.  When  a 
branch  which  had  drooped  for  a  time  in  the  water 
was  drawn  forth,  it  was  found  covered  with  oys- 
ters. Las  Casas,  noticing  this  sanguine  conclu- 
sion of  Columbus,  observes,  that  the  shell-fish 
here  spoken  of  are  not  of  the  kind  which  produce 
pearl,  for  that  those  by  a  natural  instinct,  as  if 
conscious  of  their  precious  charge,  hide  them- 
selves in  the  deepest  water.* 

Still  imagining  the  coast  of  Paria  to  be  an 
island,  and  anxious  to  circumnavigate  it,  and  ar- 
rive at  the  place  where  these  pearls  were  said  by 
the  Indians  to  abound,  Columbus  left  the  Gardens 
on  the  loth  of  August,  and  continued  coasting 
westward  within  the  gulf,  in  search  of  an  outlet 
to  the  north.  He  observed  portions  of  Terra 
Firma  appearing  toward  the  bottom  of  the  gulf, 
which  he  supposed  to  be  islands,  and  called  them 
Isabeta  and  Tramontana,  and  fancied  that  the  de- 
sired outlet  to  the  sea  must  lie  between  them.  As 
he  advanced,  however,  he  found  the  water  con- 
tinually growing  shallower  and  fresher,  until  he 
did  not  dare  to  venture  any  farther  with  his  ship, 
which,  he  observed,  was  of  too  great  a  size  for  ex- 
peditions of  this  kind,  being  of  an  hundred  tons 
burden,  and  requiring  three  fathoms  of  water. 
He  came  to  anchor,  therefore,  and  sent  a  light 
caravel  called  the  Correo,  to  ascertain  whether 
there  was  an  outlet  to  the  ocean  between  the  sup- 
posed islands.  The  caravel  returned  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  reporting  that  at  the  western  end  of 
the  gulf  there  was  an  opening  of  two  leagues, 
which  led  into  an  inner  and  circular  gulf,  sur- 
rounded by  four  openings,  apparently  smaller 
gulfs,  or  rather  mouths  of  rivers,  from  which 
flowed  the  great  quantity  of  fresh  water  that 
sweetened  the  neighboring  sea.  In  fact,  from  one 


Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  cap.  136. 


of  these  mouths  issued  the  great  river  the  Cupari- 
pari,  or,  as  it  is  now  called,  the  Paria.  To  this 
inner  and  circular  gulf  Columbus  gave  the  name 
of  the  Gulf  of  Pearls,  through  a  mistaken  idea 
that  they  abounded  in  its  waters,  though  none,  in 
fact,  are  found  there.  He  still  imagined  that  the 
four  openings  of  which  the  mariners  spoke,  might 
be  intervals  between  islands,  though  they  affirmed 
that  all  the  land  he  saw  was  connected.*  As  it 
was  impossible  to  proceed  further  westward  with 
his  ships,  he  had  no  alternative  but  to  retrace  his 
course,  and  seek  an  exit  to  the  north  by  the  Boca 
del  Dragon.  He  would  gladly  have  continued 
for  some  time  to  explore  this  coast,  for  he  consid- 
ered himself  in  one  of  those  opulent  regions  de- 
scribed as  the  most  favored  upon  earth,  and  which 
increase  in  riches  toward  the  equator.  Imperious 
considerations,  however,  compelled  him  to  shorten 
his  voyage,  and  hasten  to  San  Domingo.  The  sea- 
stores  of  his  ships  were  almost  exhausted,  and  the 
various  supplies  for  the  colony,  with  which  they 
were  freighted,  were  in  danger  of  spoiling.  He 
was  suffering,  also,  extremely  in  his  health.  Be- 
sides the  gout,  which  had  rendered  him  a  cripple 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  voyage,  he  was  afflicted 
by  a  complaint  in  his  eyes,  caused  by  fatigue  and 
over-watching,  which  almost  deprived  him  of 
sight.  Even  the  voyage  along  the  coast  of  Cuba, 
he  observes,  in  which  he  was  three  and  thirty 
days  almost  without  sleep,  had  not  so  injured  his 
eyes  and  disordered  his  frame,  or  caused  him  so 
much  painful  suffering  as  the  present. f 

On  the  nth  of  August,  therefore,  he  set  sail 
eastward  for  the  Boca  del  Dragon,  and  was  borne 
along  with  great  velocity  by  the  currents,  which, 
however,  prevented  him  from  landing  again  at  his 
favorite  spot,  the  Gardens.  On  Sunday,  the  I3th, 
he  anchored  near  to  the  Boca,  in  a  fine  harbor,  to 
which  he  gave  the  name  of  Puerto  de  Gatos,  from 
a  species  of  monkey  called  gato  paulo,  with  which 
the  neighborhood  abounded.  On  the  margin  of 
the  sea  he  perceived  many  trees  which,  as  he 
thought,  produced  the  mirabolane,  a  fruit  only 
found  in  the  countries  of  the  East.  There  were 
great  numbers  also  of  mangroves  growing  within 
the  water,  with  oysters  clinging  to  their  branches, 
their  mouths  open,  as  he  supposed,  to  receive  the 
dew,  which  was  afterward  to  be  transformed  to 
pearls.  J 

On  the  following  morning,  the  I4th  of  August, 
toward  noon  the  ships  approached  the  Boca  del 
Dragon,  and  prepared  to  venture  through  that  for- 
midable pass.  The  distance  from  Cape  Boto  at 
the  end  of  Paria,  and  Cape  Lapa  the  extremity  of 
Trinidad,  is  about  five  leagues  ;  but  in  the  inter- 
val there  were  two  islands,  which  Columbus 
named  Caracol  and  Delphin.  The  impetuous  body 
of  fresh  water  which  flows  through  the  gulf,  par- 
ticularly in  the  rainy  months  of  July  and  August, 
is  confined  at  the  narrow  outlets  between  these 
islands,  where  it  causes  a  turbulent  sea,  foaming 
and  roaring  as  if  breaking  over  rocks,  and  ren- 
dering the  entrance  and  exit  of  the  gulf  extremely 
dangerous.  The  horrors  and  perils  of  such  places 
are  always  tenfold  to  discoverers,  who  have  no 
chart,  nor  pilot,  nor  advice  of  previous  voyager, 
to  guide  them.  Columbus,  at  first,  apprehended 
sunken  rocks  and  shoals  ;  but  on  attentively  con- 
sidering the  commotion  of  the  strait,  he  attributed 
it  to  the  conflict  between  the  prodigious  body  of 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  78. 
f  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Sovereigns,  Navarrete, 
torn.  i.  p.  252. 

\  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  10. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


141 


fresh  water  setting  through  the  gulf  and  strug- 
gling for  an  outlet,  and  the  tide  of  salt  water  strug- 
gling to  enter.  The  ships  had  scarcely  ventured 
into  the  fearful  channel  when  the  wind  died  away, 
and  they  were  in  danger  every  moment  of  being 
thrown  upon  the  rocks  or  sands.  The  current  of 
fresh  water,  however,  gained  the  victory,  and  car- 
ried them  safely  through.  The  admiral,  when 
once  more  safe  in  ihe  open  sea,  congratulated 
himself  upon  his  escape  from  this  perilous  strait, 
which,  he  observes,  might  well  be  called  the 
Mouth  of  the  Dragon.* 

He  now  stood  to  the  westward,  running  along 
the  outer  coast  of  Paria,  still  supposing  it  an 
island,  and  intending  to  visit  the  Gulf  of  Pearls, 
which  he  imagined  to  be  at  the  end  of  it,  opening 
to  the  sea.  He  wished  to  ascertain  whether  this 
great  body  of  fresh  water  proceeded  from  rivers, 
as  the  crew  of  the  caravel  Correo  had  affirmed  ; 
for  it  appeared  to  him  impossible  that  the  streams 
of  mere  islands,  as  he  supposed  the  surrounding 
lands,  could  furnish  such  a  prodigious  volume  of 
water. 

On  leaving  the  Boca  del  Dragon,  he  saw  to  the 
north-east,  many  leagues  distant,  two  islands, 
which  he  called  Assumption  and  Conception  ;  prob- 
ably' those  now  known  as  Tobago  and  Granada.  In 
his  course  along  the  northern  coast  of  Paria  he 
saw  several  other  small  islands  and  many  fine 
harbors,  to  some  of  which  he  gave  names,  but 
they  have  ceased  to  be  known  by  them.  On  the 
1 5th  he  discovered  the  islands  of  Margarita  and 
Cubagua,  afterward  famous  for  their  pearl  fishery. 
The  Island  of  Margarita,  about  fifteen  leagues  in 
length  and  six  in  breadth,  was  well  peopled.  The 
little  island  of  Cubagua,  lying  between  it  and  the 
main-land,  and  only  about  four  leagues  from  the 
latter,  was  dry  and  sterile,  without  either  wood  or 
fresh  water,  but  possessing  a  good  harbor.  On 
approaching  this  island  the  admiral  beheld  a 
number  of  Indians  fishing  for  pearls,  who  made 
for  the  land.  A  boat  being  sent  to  communicate 
with  them,  one  of  the  sailors  noticed  many  strings 
of  pearls  round  the  neck  of  a  female.  Having  a 
plate  of  Valencia  ware,  a  kind  of  porcelain  painted 
and  varnished  with  gaudy  colors,  he  broke  it,  and 
presented  the  pieces  to  the  Indian  woman,  who 
gave  him  in  exchange  a  considerable  number  of 
her  pearls.  These  he  carried  to  the  admiral,  who 
immediately  sent  persons  on  shore,  well  provided 
with  Valencian  plates  and  hawks'  bells,  for  which 
in  a  little  time  he  procured  about  three  pounds' 
weight  of  pearls,  some  of  which  were  of  a  very 
large  size,  and  were  sent  by  him  afterward  to  the 
sovereigns  as  specimens. f 

There  was  great  temptation  to  visit  other  spots, 
which  the  Indians  mentioned  as  abounding  in 
pearls.  The  coast  of  Paria  also  continued  ex- 
tending to  the  westward  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  rising  into  a  range  of  mountains,  and  pro- 
voking examination  to  ascertain  whether,  as  he 
began  to  think,  it  was  a  part  of  the  Asiatic  conti- 
nent. Columbus  was  compelled,  however,  though 
with  the  greatest  reluctance,  to  forego  this  most 
interesting  investigation. 

The  malady  of  his  eyes  had  now  grown  so  viru- 
lent that  he  could  no  longer  take  observations  or 
keep  a  lookout,  but  had  to  trust  to  the  reports  of 
the  pilots  and  mariners.  He  bore  away,  there- 
fore, for  Hispaniola,  intending  to  repose  there 
from  the  toils  of  his  voyage,  and  to  recruit  his 
health,  while  he  should  send  his  brother,  the 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  n. 
\  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  iii.  p.  169. 


Adelantado,  to  complete  the  discovery  of  this  im- 
portant country.  After  sailing  for  five  days  to 
the  north-west,  he  made  the  island  of  Hispaniola 
on  the  I gth  of  August,  fifty  leagues  to  the  west- 
ward of  the  river  Ozema,  the  place  of  his  destina- 
tion ;  and  anchored  on  the  following  morning 
under  the  little  island  of  Beata. 

He  was  astonished  to  find  himself  so  mistaken 
in  his  calculations,  and  so  tar  below  his  destined 
port  ;  but  he  attributed  it  correctly  to  the  force  ol 
the  current  setting  out  of  the  Boca  del  Dragon, 
which,  while  he  had  lain  to  at  nights,  to  avoid 
running  on  rocks  and  shoals,  had  borne  his  ship 
insensibly  to  the  west.  This  current  which  sets 
across  the  Caribbean  Sea,  and  the  continuation  of 
which  now  bears  the  name  of  the  Gulf  Stream,  was 
so  rapid,  that  on  the  I5th,  though  the  wind  was 
but  moderate,  the  ships  had  made  seventy-five 
leagues  in  four  and  twenty  hours.  Columbus  at- 
tributed to  the  violence  of  this  current  the  forma- 
tion of  that  pass  called  the  Boca  del  Dragon, 
where  he  supposed  it  had  forced  its  way  through 
a  narrow  isthmus  that  formerly  connected  Trini- 
dad with  the  extremity  of  Paria.  He  imagined, 
also,  that  its  constant  operation  had  worn  away 
and  inundated  the  borders  of  the  main-land,  grad- 
ually producing  that  fringe  of  islands  which 
stretches  from  Trinidad  to  the  Lucayos  or  Ba- 
hamas, and  which,  according  to  his  idea,  had 
originally  been  part  of  the  solid  continent.  In 
corroboration  of  this  opinion,  he  notices  the  form 
of  those  islands  :  narrow  from  north  to  south,  and 
extending  in  length  from  east  to  west,  in  the  di- 
rection of  the  current.* 

The  island  of  Beata,  where  he  had  anchored,  is 
about  thirty  leagues  to  the  west  of  the  river  Oze- 
ma, where  he  expected  to  find  the  new  seaport 
which  his  brother  had  been  instructed  to  estab- 
lish. The  strong  and  steady  current  from  the 
east,  however,  and  the  prevalence  of  winds  from 
that  quarter,  might  detain  him  for  a  long  time  at 
the  island,  and  render  the  remainder  of  his  voy- 
age slow  and  precarious.  He  sent  a  boat  on 
shore,  therefore,  to  procure  an  Indian  messenger 
to  take  a  letter  to  his  brother,  the  Adelantado. 
Six  of  the  natives  came  off  to  the  ships,  one  of 
whom  was  armed  with  a  Spanish  cross-bow.  The 
admiral  was  alarmed  at  seeing  a  weapon  of  the 
kind  in  the  possession  of  an  Indian.  It  was  not 
an  article  of  traffic,  and  he  feared  could  only  have 
fallen  into  hrs  hands  by  the  death  of  some  Span- 
iard, f  He  apprehended  that  further  evils  had 
befallen  the  settlement  during  his  long  absence, 
and  that  there  had  again  been  troubles  with  the 
natives. 

Having  dispatched  his  messenger,  he  made 
sail,  and  arrived  off  the  mouth  of  the  river  on  the 
3Oth  of  August.  He  was  met  on  the  way  by  a  car- 
avel, on  board  of  which  was  the  Adelantado,  who, 
having  received  his  letter,  had  hastened  forth 
with  affectionate  ardor  to  welcome  his  arrival. 
The  meeting  of  the  brothers  was  a  cause  of  mu- 
tual joy  ;  they  were  strongly  attached  to  each 
other,  each  had  had  his  trials  and  sufferings  dur- 
ing their  long  separation,  and  each  looked  with 
confidence  to  the  other  for  comfort  and  relief. 
Don  Bartholomew  appears  to  have  always  had 
great  deference  for  the  brilliant  genius,  the  en- 
larged mind,  and  the  commanding  reputation  of 
his  brother  ;  while  the  latter  placed  great  reliance 
in  times  of  difficulty,  on  the  worldly  knowledge, 


*  Letter  to  the  King  and  Queen,  Navarrete  Colec., 
torn.  i. 
f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  148. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


the    indefatigable  activity,   and  the  lion-hearted 
courage  of  the  Adelantaclo. 

Columbus  arrived  almost  the  wreck  of  himself. 
His  voyages  were  always  of  a  nature  to  wear  out 
the  human  frame,  having  to  navigate  amid  un- 
known dangers,  and  to  keep  anxious  watch,  at  all 
hours,  and  in  all  weathers.  As  age  and  infirmity 
increased  upon  him,  these  trials  became  the  more 
severe.  His  constitution  must  originally  have 
been  wonderfully  vigorous  ;  but  constitutions  of 
this  powerful  kind,  if  exposed  to  severe  hardships 
at  an  advanced  period  of  life,  when  the  frame  has 
become  somewhat  rigid  and  unaccommodating, 
are  apt  to  be  suddenly  broken  up,  and  to  be  a 
prey  to  violent  aches  and  maladies.  In  this  last 
voyage  Columbus  had  been  parched  and  consum- 
ed by  fever,  racked  by  gout,  and  his  whole  system 
disordered  by  incessant  watchfulness  ;  he  came 
into  port  haggard,  emaciated,  and  almost  blind. 
His  spirit,  however,  was,  as  usual,  superior  to  all 
bodily  affliction  or  decay,  and  he  looked  forward 
with  magnificent  anticipations  to  the  result  of  his 
recent  discoveries,  which  he  intended  should  be 
immediately  prosecuted  by  his  hardy  and  enter- 
prising brother. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SPECULATIONS  OF  COLUMBUS    CONCERNING    THE 
COAST  OF  PARIA. 

[1498-] 

THE  natural  phenomena  of  a  great  and  striking 
nature  presented  to  the  ardent  mind  of  Columbus 
in  the  course  of  this  voyage,  led  to  certain  sound 
deductions  and  imaginative  speculations.  The 
immense  body  of  fresh  water  flowing  into  the 
Gulf  of  Paria,  and  thence  rushing  into  the  ocean, 
was  too  vast  to  be  produced  by  an  island  or  by 
islands.  It  must  be  the  congregated  streams  of  a 
great  extent  of  country  pouring  forth  in  one 
mighty  river,  and  the  land  necessary  to  furnish 
such  a  river  must  be  a  continent.  He  now  sup- 
posed that  most  of  the  tracts  of  land  which  he  had 
seen  about  the  Gulf  were  connected  ;  that  the  coast 
of  Paria  extended  westward  far  beyond  a  chain  of 
mountains  which  he  had  beheld  afar  off  from  Mar- 
garita ;  and  that  the  land  opposite  to  Trinidad, 
instead  of  being  an  island,  continued  to  the  south, 
far  beyond  the  equator,  into  that  hemisphere 
hitherto  unknown  to  civilized  man.  He  consider- 
ed all  this  an  extension  of  the  Asiatic  continent  ; 
thus  presuming  that  the  greater  part  of  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe  was  firm  land.  In  this  last  opinion 
he  found  himself  supported  by  authors  of  the  high- 
est name  both  ancient  and  modern  ;  among  whom 
he  cites  Aristotle  and  Seneca,  St.  Augustine  and 
Cardinal  Pedro  de  Alliaco.  He  lays  particular 
stress  also  on  the  assertion  of  the  apocryphal  Es- 
dras,  that  of  seven  parts  of  the  world,  six  are  dry 
land,  and  one  part  only  is  covered  with  water. 

The  land,  therefore,  surrounding  the  Gulf  of 
Paria,  was  but  the  border  of  an  almost  boundless 
continent,  stretching  far  to  the  west  and  to  the 
south,  including  the  most  precious  regions  of  the 
earth,  lying  under  the  most  auspicious  stars  and 
benignant  skies,  but  as  yet  unknown  and  uncivil- 
ized, free  to  be  discovered  and  appropriated  by 
any  Christian  nation.  "  May  it  please  our  Lord," 
he  exclaims  in  his  letter  to  the  sovereigns,  "to 
give  long  life  and  health  to  your  highnesses,  that 
you  may  prosecute  this  noble  enterprise,  in  which, 
methinks.  God  will  receive  great  service,  Spain 


vast  increase  of  grandeur,  and  all  Christians 
much  consolation  and  delight,  since  the  name  of 
our  Saviour  will  be  divulged  throughout  thes« 
lands." 

Thus  far  the  deductions  of  Columbus,  though 
sanguine,  admit  of  little  cavil  ;  but  he  carried 
them  still  farther,  until  they  ended  in  what  may 
appear  to  some  mere  chimerical  reveries.  In  his 
letter  to  the  sovereigns  he  stated  that  on  his  for- 
mer voyages,  when  he  steered  westward  from  the 
Azores,  he  had  observed,  after  sailing  about  a 
hundred  leagues,  a  sudden  and  great  change  in 
the  sky  and  the  stars,  the  temperature  of  the  air, 
and  the  calmness  of  the  ocean.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
line  ran  from  north  to  south,  beyond  which  every- 
thing became  different.  The  needle  which  had 
previously  inclined  toward  the  north-east,  now 
varied  a  whole  point  to  the  north-west.  The  sea, 
hitherto  clear,  was  covered  with  weeds  so  dense 
that  in  his  first  voyage  he  had  expected  to  run 
aground  upon  shoals.  A  universal  tranquillity 
reigned  throughout  the  elements,  and  the  climate 
was  mild  and  genial  whether  in  summer  or  win- 
ter. On  taking  his  astronomical  observations  at 
night,  after  crossing  that  imaginary  line,  the 
north  star  appeared  to  him  to  describe  a  diurnal 
circle  in  the  heavens,  of  five  degrees  in  diameter. 

On  his  present  voyage  he  had  varied  his  route, 
and  had  run  southward  from  the  Cape  de  Verde 
Islands  for  the  equinoctial  line.  Before  reaching 
it,  however,  the  heat  had  become  insupportable, 
and  a  wind  springing  up  from  the  east,  he  had 
been  induced  to  strike  westward,  when  in  the 
parallel  of  Sierra  Leone  in  Guinea.  For  several 
days  he  had  been  almost  consumed  by  scorching 
and  stifling  heat  under  a  sultry  yet  clouded  sky, 
and  in  a  drizzling  atmosphere,  until  he  arrived  at 
the  ideal  line  already  mentioned,  extending  from 
north  to  south.  Here  suddenly,  to  his  great  re- 
lief, he  had  emerged  into  serene  weather,  with  a 
clear  blue  sky  and  a  sweet  and  temperate  atmos- 
phere. The  farther  he  had  proceeded  west,  the 
more  pure  and  genial  he  had  found  the  climate  ; 
the  sea  tranquil,  the  breezes  soft  and  balmy.  All 
these  phenomena  coincided  with  those  he  had  re- 
marked at  the  same  line,  though  farther  north,  in 
his  former  voyages  ;  excepting  that  here  there  was 
no  herbage  in  the  sea,  and  the  movements  of  stars 
were  different.  The  polar  star  appeared  to  him 
here  to  describe  a  diurnal  circle  of  ten  degrees 
instead  of  five  ;  an  augmentation  which  struck 
him  with  astonishment,  but  which,  he  says,  he 
ascertained  by  observations  taken  in  different 
nights,  with  his  quadrant.  Its  greatest  altitude 
at  the  former  place,  in  the  parallel  of  the  Azores, 
he  had  found  to  be  ten  degrees,  and  in  the  present 
place  fifteen. 

From  these  and  other  circumstances,  he  was 
inclined  to  doubt  the  received  theory  with  respect 
to  the  form  of  the  earth.  Philosophers  had  de- 
scribed it  as  spherical  ;  but  they  knew  nothing  of 
the  part  of  the  world  which  he  had  discovered. 
The  ancient  part,  known  to  them,  he  had  no 
doubt  was  spherical,  but  he  now  supposed  the 
real  form  of  the  earth  to  be  that  of  a  pear,  one 
part  much  more  elevated  than  the  rest,  and  taper- 
ing upward  toward  the  skies.  This  part  he  sup- 
posed to  be  in  the  interior  of  this  newly  found 
continent,  and  immediately  under  the  equator. 
All  the  phenomena  which  he  had  previously  no- 
ticed, appeared  to  corroborate  this  theory.  The 
variations  which  he  had  observed  in  passing  the 
imaginary  line  running  from  north  to  south,  he 
concluded  to  be  caused  by  the  ships  having  ar- 
rived at  this  supposed  swelling  of  the  earth,  where 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


143 


they  began  gently  to  mount  toward  the  skies  into 
a  purer  and  more  celestial  atmosphere.*  The 
variation  of  the  needle  he  ascribed  to  the  same 
cause,  being  affected  by  the  coolness  and  mild- 
ness of  the  climate  ;  varying  to  the  north-west  in 
proportion  as  the  ships  continued  onward  in  their 
ascent. f  So  also  the  altitude  of  the  north  star, 
and  the  circle  it  described  in  the  heavens,  appear- 
ed to  be  greater,  in  consequence  of  being  regard- 
ed from  a  greater  elevation,  less  obliquely,  and 
through  a  purer  medium  of  atmosphere  ;  and 
these  phenomena  would  be  found  to  increase  the 
more  the  navigator  approached  the  equator,  from 
the  still  increasing  eminence  of  this  part  of  the 
earth. 

He  noticed  also  the  difference  of  climate,  vege- 
tation, and  people  of  this  part  of  the  New  World 
from  those  under  the  same  parallel  in  Africa. 
There  the  heat  was  insupportable,  the  land  parch- 
ed and  sterile,  the  inhabitants  were  black,  with 
crisped  wool,  ill-shapen  in  their  forms,  and  dull 
and  brutal  in  their  natures.  Here,  on  the  con- 
trary, although  the  sun  was  in  Leo,  he  found  the 
noontide  heat  moderate,  the  mornings  and  even- 
ings fresh  and  cool,  the  country  green  and  fruit- 
ful, and  covered  with  beautiful  forests,  the  people 
fairer  even  than  those  in  the  lands  he  had  discov- 
ered farther  north,  having  long  hair,  with  well- 
proportioned  and  graceful  forms,  lively  minds, 
and  courageous  dispositions.  All  this  in  a  lati- 
tude so  near  to  the  equator,  he  attributed  to  the 
superior  altitude  of  this  part  of  the  world,  by 
which  it  was  raised  into  a  more  celestial  region  of 
the  aijr.  On  turning  northward,  through  the  Gulf 
of  Paria,  he  had  found  the  circle  described  by  the 
north  star  again  to  diminish.  The  current  of  the 
sea  also  increased  in  velocity,  wearing  away,  as 
has  already  been  remarked,  the  borders  of  the 
continent,  and  producing  by  its  incessant  opera- 
tion the  adjacent  islands.  This  was  a  further  con- 
firmation of  the  idea  that  he  ascended  in  going 
southward,  and  descended  in  returning  north- 
ward. 

Aristotle  had  imagined  that  the  highest  part  of 
the  earth,  and  nearest  to  the  skies,  was  under  the 
antarctic  pole.  Other  sages  had  maintained  that 
it  was  under  the  arctic.  Hence  it  was  apparent 
that  both  conceived  one  part  of  the  earth  to  be 
more  elevated,  and  noble,  and  nearer  to  the 
heavens  than  the  rest.  They  did  not  think  of  this 
eminence  being  under  the  equinoctial  line,  ob- 
served Columbus,  because  they  had  no  certain 
knowledge  of  this  hemisphere,  but  only  spoke  of  it 
theoretically  and  from  conjecture. 

As  usual,  he  assisted  his  theory  by  Holy  Writ. 
"The  sun,  when  God  created  it,"  he  observes, 
"  was  in  the  first  point  of  the  Orient,  or  the  first 
light  was  there."  That  place,  according  to  his 
idea,  must  be  here,  in  the  remotest  part  of  the 


*  Peter  Martyr  mentions  that  the  admiral  told  him, 
that,  from  the  climate  of  great  heat  and  unwholesome 
air,  he  had  ascended  the  back  of  the  sea,  as  it  were 
ascending  a  high  mountain  toward  heaven.  Decad. 
i.  lib.  vi. 

f  Columbus,  in  his  attempts  to  account  for  the  vari- 
ation of  the  needle,  supposed  that  the  north  star  pos- 
sessed the  quality  of  the  four  cardinal  points,  as  did 
likewise  the  loadstone.  That  if  the  needle  were 
touched  with  one  part  of  the  loadstone,  it  would  point 
east,  with  another  west,  and  so  on.  Wherefore,  he 
adds,  those  who  prepare  or  magnetize  the  needles, 
cover  the  loadstone  with  a  cloth,  so  that  the  north 
part  only  remains  out  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  part  which 
possesses  the  virtue  of  causing  the  needle  to  point  to 
the  north.  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  66. 


East,  where  the  ocean  and  the  extreme  part  of  In- 
dia meet  under  the  equinoctial  line,  and  where 
the  highest  point  of  the  earth  is  situated. 

He  supposed  this  apex  of  the  world,  though  of 
immense  height,  to  be  neither  rugged  nor  precipi- 
tous, but  that  the  land  rose  to  it  by  gentle  and  im- 
perceptible degrees.  The  beautiful  and  fertile 
shores  of  Paria  were  situated  on  its  remote  bor- 
ders, abounding  of  course  with  those  precious 
articles  which  are  congenial  with  the  most  favored 
and  excellent  climates.  As  one  penetrated  the 
interior  and  gradually  ascended,  the  land  would  be 
found  to  increase  in  beauty  and  luxuriance,  and  in 
the  exquisite  nature  of  its  productions,  until  one 
arrived  at  the  summit  under  the  equator.  This 
he  imagined  to  be  the  noblest  and  most  perfect 
place  on  earth,  enjoying  from  its  position,  an 
equality  of  nights  and  days,  and  a  uniformity  of 
seasons  ;  and  being  elevated  into  a  serene  and 
heavenly  temperature,  above  the  heats  and  colds, 
the  clouds  and  vapors,  the  storms  and  tempests 
which  deform  and  disturb  the  lower  regions.  In 
a  word,  here  he  supposed  to  be  situated  the  origi- 
nal abode  of  our  first  parents,  the  primitive  seat 
of  human  innocence  and  bliss,  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  or  terrestrial  paradise  ! 

He  imagined  this  place,  according  to  the  opin- 
ion of  the  most  eminent  fathers  of  the  church,  to 
be  still  flourishing,  possessed  of  all  its  blissful  de- 
lights, but  inaccessible  to  mortal  feet,  excepting 
by  divine  permission.  From  this  height  he  pre- 
sumed, though  of  course  from  a  great  distance, 
proceeded  the  mighty  stream  of  fresh  water  which 
filled  the  Gulf  of  Paria,  and  sweetened  the  salt 
ocean  in  its  vicinity,  being  supplied  by  the  foun- 
tain mentioned  in  Genesis,  a:;  springing  from  the 
tree  of  life  in  the  Garden  of  Eden. 

Such  was  the  singular  speculation  of  Columbus, 
which  he  details  at  full  length  in  a  letter  to  the 
Castilian  sovereigns,*  citing  various  authorities 
for  his  opinions,  among  which  were  St.  Augus- 
tine, St.  Isidor,  and  St.  Ambrosius,  and  fortifying 
his  theory  with  much  of  that  curious  and  specula- 
tive erudition  in  which  he  was  deeply  versed. f  It 
shows  how  his  ardent  mind  was  heated  by  the 
magnificence  of  his  discoveries.  Shrewd  men,  in 
the  coolness  and  quietude  of  ordinary  life,  and  in 
these  modern  days  of  cautious  and  sober  fact,  may 
smile  at  such  a  reverie,  but  it  was  countenanced 
by  the  speculations  of  the  most  sage  and  learned 
of  those  times  ;  and  if  this  had  not  been  the  case, 
could  we  wonder  at  any  sally  of  the  imagination 
in  a  man  placed  in  the  situation  of  Columbus  ? 
He  beheld  a  vast  world,  rising,  as  it  were,  into  ex- 
istence before  him,  its  nature  and  extent  unknown 
and  undefined,  as  yet  a  mere  region  for  conjec- 
ture. Every  day  displayed  some  new  feature  of 
beauty  and  sublimity  ;  island  after  island,  where 
the  rocks,  he  was  told,  were  veined  with  gold,  the 
groves  teemed  with  spices,  or  the  shores  abounded 
with  pearls.  Interminable  ranges  of  coast,  prom- 


*  Navarrete,  Colec.  de  Viages.  torn.  i.  p.  242. 

f  See  Illustrations,  article  "  Situation  of  the  Ter- 
restrial Paradise." 

NOTE. — A  great  part  of  these  speculations  appear 
to  have  been  founded  on  the  treatise  of  the  Cardinal 
Pedro  de  Aliaco,  in  which  Columbus  found  a  compen- 
dium of  the  opinions  of  various  eminent  authors  on 
the  subject  ;  though  it  is  very  probable  he  consulted 
many  of  their  works  likewise.  In  the  volume  of  Pe- 
dro de  Aliaco,  existing  in  the  library  of  the  Cathedral 
at  Seville,  I  have  traced  the  germs  of  these  ideas  in 
various  passages  of  the  text,  opposite  to  which  mar-, 
ginal  notes  have  been  made  in  the  handwriting  of  Co- 
lumbus. 


144 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ontory  beyond  promontory,  stretching  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach  ;  luxuriant  valleys  sweeping 
away  into  a  vast  interior,  whose  distant  moun- 
tains, he  was  told,  concealed  still  happier  lands, 
and  realms  of  greater  opulence.  When  he  looked 
upon  all  this  region  of  golden  promise,  it  was  with 
the  glorious  conviction  that  his  genius  had  called 
it  into  existence  ;  he  regarded  it  with  the  triumph- 
ant eye  of  a  discoverer.  Had  not  Columbus  been 
capable  of  these  enthusiastic  soarings  of  the  im- 
agination, he  might,  with  other  sages,  have  rea- 
soned calmly  and  coldly  in  his  closet  about  the 
probability  of  a  continent  existing  in  the  west  ; 
but  he  would  never  have  had  the  daring  enter- 
prise to  adventure  in  search  of  it  into  the  unknown 
realms  of  ocean. 

Still,  in  the  midst  of  his  fanciful  speculations, 
we  find  that  sagacity  which  formed  the  basis  of 
his  character.  The  conclusion  which  he  drew 
from  the  great  flow  of  the  Oronoco,  that  it  must 


be  the  outpouring  of  a  continent,  was  acute  and 
striking.  A  learned  Spanish  historian  has  also 
ingeniously  excused  other  parts  of  his  theory. 
"  He  suspected,"  observes  he,  "  a  certain  eleva- 
tion of  the  globe  at  one  part  of  the  equator  ; 
philosophers  have  since  determined  the  world  to 
be  a  spheroid,  slightly  elevated  in  its  equatorial 
circumference.  He  suspected  that  the  diversity 
of  temperatures  influenced  the  needle,  not  being 
able  to  penetrate  the  cause  of  its  inconstant  varia- 
tions ;  the  successive  series  of  voyages  and  experi- 
ments have  made  this  inconstancy  more  manifest, 
and  have  shown  that  extreme  cold  sometimes  di- 
vests the  needle  of  all  its  virtue.  Perhaps  new 
observations  may  justify  the  surmise  of  Columbus. 
Even  his  error  concerning  the  circle  described  by 
the  polar  star,  which  he  thought  augmented  by  an 
optical  illusion  in  proportion  as  the  observer  ap- 
proached the  equinox,  manifests  him  a  philoso- 
pher superior  to  the  time  in  which  he  lived."  * 


BOOK  XI. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ADMINISTRATION    OF    THE    ADELANTADO — EXPE- 
DITION TO  THE  PROVINCE  OF   XARAGUA. 

[I498.] 

COLUMBUS  had  anticipated  repose  from  his  toils 
on  arriving  at  Hispaniola,  but  a  new  scene  of 
trouble  and  anxiety  opened  upon  him,  destined  to 
impede  the  prosecution  of  his  enterprises,  and  to 
affect  all  his  future  fortunes.  To  explain  this,  it 
is  necessary  to  relate  the  occurrences  of  the  island 
during  his  long  detention  in  Spain. 

When  he  sailed  for  Europe  in  March,  1496,  his 
brother,  Don  Bartholomew,  who  remained  as 
Adelantado,  took  the  earliest  measures  to  execute 
his  directions  with  respect  to  the  mines  recently 
discovered  by  Miguel  Diaz  on  the  south 'side  of 
the  island.  Leaving  Don  Diego  Columbus  in 
command  at  Isabella,  he  repaired  with  a  large 
force  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  mines,  and, 
choosing  a  favorable  situation  in  a  place  most 
abounding  in  ore,  built  a  fortress,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  San  Christoval.  The  workmen, 
however,  finding  grains  of  gold  among  the  earth 
and  stone  employed  in  its  construction,  gave  it 
the  name  of  the  Golden  Tower.* 

The  Adelantado  remained  here  three  months, 
superintending  the  building  of  the  fortress,  and 
making  the  necessary  preparations  for  working 
the  mines  and  purifying  the  ore.  The  progress  of 
the  work,  however,  was  greatly  impeded  by 
scarcity  of  provisions,  having  frequently  to  detach 
a  part  of  the  men  about  the  country  in  quest  of 
supplies.  The  former  hospitality  of  the  island  was 
at  an  end.  The  Indians  no  longer  gave  their  pro- 
visions freely  ;  they  had  learned  from  the  white 
men  to  profit  by  the  necessities  of  the  stranger, 
and  to  exact  a  price  for  bread.  Their  scanty 
stores,  also,  were  soon  exhausted,  for  their  frugal 
habits,  and  their  natural  indolence  and  improvi- 
dence, seldom  permitted  them  to  have  more  pro- 
visions on  hand  than  was  requisite  for  present 
support.!  The  Adelantado  found  it  difficult, 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv. 
f  Ibid.,  lib.  v. 


therefore,  to  maintain  so  large  a  force  in  the 
neighborhood,  until  they  should  have  time  to  cul- 
tivate the  earth,  and  raise  live-stock,  or  should  re- 
ceive supplies  from  Spain.  Leaving  ten  men  to 
guard  the  fortress,  with  a  dog  to  assist  them  in 
catching  utias,  he  marched  with  the  rest  of  his 
men,  about  four  hundred  in  number,  to  Fort  Con- 
ception, in  the  abundant  country  of  the  Vega. 
He  passed  the  whole  month  of  June  collecting  the 
quarterly  tribute,  being  supplied  with  food  by 
Guarionex  and  his  subordinate  caciques.  In  the 
following  month  (July,  1496),  the  three  caravels 
commanded  by  Nifio  arrived  from  Spain,  bring- 
ing a  reintorcement  of  men,  and,  what  was  still 
more  needed,  a  supply  of  provisions.  The  latter 
was  quickly  distributed  among  the  hungry  colo- 
nists, but  unfortunately  a  great  part  had  been  in- 
jured during  the  voyage.  This  was  a  serious  mis- 
fortune in  a  community  where  the  least  scarcity 
produced  murmur  and  sedition. 

By  these  ships  the  Adelantado  received  letters 
from  his  brother  directing  him  to  found  a  town 
and  seaport  at  the  mouth  of  the  Ozema,  near  to 
the  new  mines.  He  requested  him,  also,  to  send 
prisoners  to  Spain  such  of  the  caciques  and  their 
subjects  as  had  been  concerned  in  the  death  of 
any  of  the  colonists  ;  that  being  considered  as 
sufficient  ground,  by  many  of  the  ablest  jurists 
and  theologians  of  Spain,  for  selling  them  as 
slaves.  On  the  return  of  the  caravels,  the  Ade- 
lantado dispatched  three  hundred  Indian  prison- 
ers, and  three  caciques.  These  formed  the  ill- 
starred  cargoes  about  which  Niflo  had  made  such 
absurd  vaunting,  as  though  the  ships  were  laden 
with  treasures,  and  which  had  caused  such  mor- 
tification, disappointment,  and  delay  to  Colum- 
bus. 

Having  obtained  by  this  arrival  a  supply  of  pro- 
visions, the  Adelantado  returned  to  the  fortress  of 
San  Christoval,  and  thence  proceeded  to  the  Ozema, 
to  choose  a  site  for  the  proposed  seaport.  After  a 
careful  examination,  he  chose  the  eastern  bank  of 
a  natural  haven  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  was 
easy  of  access,  of  sufficient  depth,  and  good  anchor- 
age. The  river  ran  through  a  beautiful  and  fer- 

*  Munoz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  vi.  §  32. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


145 


tile  country  ;  its  waters  were  pure  and  salubrious, 
and  well  stocked  with  fish  ;  its  banks  were  cov- 
ered with  trees  bearing  the  fine  fruits  of  the  island, 
so  that  in  sailing  along,  the  fruits  and  flowers 
might  be  plucked  with  the  hand  from  the  branches 
which  overhung  the  stream.*  This  delightful 
vicinity  was  the  dwelling-place  of  the  female  ca- 
cique who  had  conceived  an  affection  for  the 
young  Spaniard  Miguel  Diaz,  and  had  induced 
him  to  entice  his  countrymen  to  that  part  of  the 
island.  The  promise  she  had  given  of  a  friendly 
reception  on  the  part  of  her  tribe  was  faithfully 
performed. 

On  a  commanding  bank  of  the  harbor  Don  Bar- 
tholomew erected  a  fortress,  which  at  first  was  call- 
ed Isabella,  but  afterward  San  Domingo,  and  was 
the  origin  of  the  city  which  still  bears  that  name. 
The  Adelantado  was  of  an  active  and  indefatigable 
spirit.  No  sooner  was  the  fortress  completed  than 
he  left  in  it  a  garrison  of  twenty  men,  and  with  the 
rest  of  his  forces  set  out  to  visit  the  dominions  of 
Behechio,  one  of  the  principal  chieftains  of  the 
island.  This  cacique,  as  has  already  been  men- 
tioned, reigned  over  Xaragua,  a  province  compris- 
ing almost  the  whole  coast  at  the  west  end  of  the 
island,  including  Cape  Tiburon,  and  extending 
along  the  south  side  as  far  as  Point  Aguida,  or 
the  small  island  of  Beata.  It  was  one  of  the  most 
populous  and  fertile  districts,  with  a  delightful  cli- 
mate ;  and  its  inhabitants  were  softer  and  more 
graceful  in  their  manners  than  the  rest  of  the 
islanders.  Being  so  remote  from  all  the  for- 
tresses, the  cacique,  although  he  had  taken  a  part 
in  the  combination  of  the  chieftains,  had  hitherto 
remained  free  from  the  incursions  and  exactions 
of  the  white  men. 

With  this  cacique  resided  Anacaona,  widow  ot 
the  late  formidable  Caonabo.  She  was  sister  to 
Behechio,  and  had  taken  refuge  with  her  brother 
after  the  capture  of  her  husband.  She  was  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  females  of  the  island  ;  her 
name  in  the  Indian  language  signified  "  The 
Golden  Flower."  She  possessed  a  genius  supe- 
rior to  the  generality  of  her  race,  and  was  said  to 
excel  in  composing  those  little  legendary  ballads, 
or  areytos,  which  the  natives  chanted  as  they  per- 
formed their  national  dances.  All  the  Spanish 
writers  agree  in  describing  her  as  possessing  a 
natural  dignity  and  grace  hardly  to  be  credited  in 
her  ignorant  and  savage  condition.  Notwith- 
standing the  ruin  with  which  her  husband  had 
been  overwhelmed  by  the  hostility  of  the  white 
men,  she  appears  to  have  entertained  no  vindic- 
tive feeling  toward  them,  knowing  that  he  had 
provoked  their  vengeance  by  his  own  voluntary 
warfare.  She  regarded  the  Spaniards  with  ad- 
miration as  almost  superhuman  beings,  and  her 
intelligent  mind  perceived  the  futility  and  impolicy 
of  any  attempt  to  resist  their  superiority  in  arts 
and  arms.  Having  great  influence  over  her  broth- 
er Behechio,  she  counselled  him  to  take  warn- 
ing by  the  fate  of  her  husband,  and  to  conciliate 
the  friendship  of  the  Spaniards  ;  and  it  is  supposed 
that  a  knowledge  of  the  friendly  sentiments  and 
powerful  influence  of  this  princess,  in  a  great 
measure  prompted  the  Adelantado  to  his  present 
expedition.! 

In  passing  through  those  parts  of  the  island 
which  had  hitherto  been  unvisited  by  Europeans, 
the  Adelantado  adopted  the  same  imposing  meas- 
ures which  the  admiral  had  used  on  a  former  oc- 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  v. 
f  Charlevoix,   Hist.  St.    Domingo,   lib.   ii.   p.    14?- 
Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  vi.  §  vi. 


casion  ;  he  put  his  cavalry  in  the  advance,  and 
entered  all  the  Indian  towns  in  martial  array,  with 
standards  displayed,  and  the  sound  of  drum  and 
trumpet. 

After  proceeding  about  thirty  leagues,  he  came 
to  the  river  Neyva,  which,  issuing  from  the  moun- 
tains of  Cibao,  divides  the  southern  side  of  the 
island.  Crossing  this  stream,  he  dispatched  two 
parties  of  ten  men  each  along  the  seacoast  in 
search  of  brazil-wood.  They  found  great  quanti- 
ties, and  felled  many  trees,  which  they  stored  in 
the  Indian  cabins,  until  they  could  be  taken  away 
by  sea. 

Inclining  with  his  main  force  to  the  right,  the 
Adelantado  met,  not  far  from  the  river,  the  ca- 
cique Behechio,  with  a  great  army  of  his  subjects, 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and  lances.  If  he 
had  come  forth  with  the  intention  of  opposing  the 
inroad  into  his  forest  domains,  he  was  probably 
daunted  by  the  formidable  appearance  of  the 
Spaniards.  Laying  aside  his  weapons,  he  ad- 
vanced and  accosted  the  Adelantado  very  amica- 
bly, professing  that  he  was  thus  in  arms  for  the 
purpose  of  subjecting  certain  villages  along  the 
river,  and  inquiring,  at  the  same  time,  the  object 
of  this  incursion  of  the  Spaniards.  The  Adelan- 
tado assured  him  that  he  came  on  a  peaceful  visit, 
to  pass  a  little  time  in  friendly  intercourse  at  Xara- 
gua. He  succeeded  so  well  in  allaying  the  appre- 
hensions of  the  cacique,  that  the  latter  dismissed 
his  army,  and  sent  swift  messengers  to  order  prep- 
arations for  the  suitable  reception  of  so  distin- 
guished a  guest.  As  the  Spaniards  advanced  into 
the  territories  of  the  chieftain,  and  passed  through 
the  districts  of  his  inferior  caciques,  the  latter 
brought  forth  cassava  bread,  hemp,  cotton,  and 
various  other  productions  of  the  land.  At  length 
they  drew  near  to  the  residence  of  Behechio, 
which  was  a  large  town  situated  in  a  beautiful 
part  of  the  country  near  the  coast,  at  the  bottom 
of  that  deep  bay,  called  at  present  the  Bight  of 
Leogan. 

The  Spaniards  had  heard  many  accounts  of  the 
soft  and  delightful  region  of  Xaragua,  in  one  part 
of  which  Indian  traditions  placed  their  Elysian 
fields.  They  had  heard  much,  also,  of  the  beauty 
and  urbanity  of  the  inhabitants  :  the  mode  of  their 
reception  was  calculated  to  confirm  their  favorable 
prepossessions.  As  they  approached  the  place, 
thirty  females  of  the  cacique's  household  came 
forth  to  meet  them,  singing  their  areytos,  or  tradi- 
tionary ballads,  and  dancing  and  waving  palm 
branches.  The  married  females  wore  aprons  of 
embroidered  cotton,  reaching  half  way  to  the 
knee  ;  the  young  women  were  'entirely  naked, 
with  merely  a' fillet  round  the  forehead,  their  hair 
falling  upon  their  shoulders.  They  were  beauti- 
fully proportioned,  their  skin  smooth  and  deli- 
cate, and  their  complexion  of  a  clear,  agreeable 
brown.  According  to  old  Peter  Martyr,  the  Span- 
iards when  they  beheld  them  issuing  forth  from 
their  green  woods,  almost  imagined  they  beheld 
the  fabled  dryads,  or  native  nymphs  and  fairies  of 
the  fountains,  sung  by  the  ancient  poets.*  When 
they  came  before  Don  Bartholomew,  they  knell 
and  gracefully  presented  him  the  green  branches. 
After  these  came  the  female  cacique  Anacaona, 
reclining  on  a  kind  of  light  litter  borne  by  six  In- 
dians. Like  the  other  females,  she  had  no  other 
covering  than  an  apron  of  various-colored  cotton. 
She  wore  round  her  head  a  fragrant  garland  of 
red  and  white  flowers,  and  wreaths  of  the  same 
round  her  neck  and  arms.  She  received  the  Ade- 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  v. 


146 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


lantado  and  his  followers  with  that  natural  grace 
and  courtesy  for  which  she  was  celebrated  ; 
manifesting  no  hostility  toward  them  for  the  fate 
her  husband  had  experienced  at  their  hands. 

The  Adelantado  and  his  officers  were  conduct- 
ed to  the  house  of  Behechio,  where  a  banquet  was 
served  up  of  utias,  a  great  variety  of  sea  and  river 
fish,  with  roots  and  fruits  of  excellent  quality. 
Here  first  the  Spaniards  conquered  iheir  repug- 
nance to  the  guana,  the  favorite  delicacy  of  the 
Indians,  but  which  the  former  had  regarded  with 
disgust,  as  a  species  of  serpent.  The  Adelantado, 
willing  to  accustom  himself  to  the  usages  of  the 
country,  was  the  first  to  taste  this  animal,  being 
kindly  pressed  thereto  by  Anacaona.  His  fol- 
lowers imitated  his  example,  they  found  it  to  be 
highly  palatable  and  delicate  ;  and  from  that  time 
forward,  the  guana  was  held  in  repute  among 
Spanish  epicures.* 

The  banquet  being  over,  Don  Bartholomew 
with  six  of  his  principal  cavaliers  were  lodged  in 
the  dwelling  of  Behechio  ;  the  rest  were  distrib- 
uted in  the  houses  of  the  inferior  caciques,  where 
they  slept  in  hammocks  of  matted  cotton,  the 
usual  beds  of  the  natives. 

For  two  days  they  remained  with  the  hospitable 
Behechio,  entertained  with  various  Indian  games 
and  festivities,  among  which  the  most  remarkable 
was  the  representation  of  a  battle.  Two  squad- 
rons of  naked  Indians,  armed  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows, sallied  suddenly  into  the  public  square  and 
began  to  skirmish  in  a  manner  similar  to  the 
Moorish  play  of  canes,  or  tilting  reeds.  By  de- 
grees they  became  excited,  and  fought  with  such 
earnestness,  that  four  were  slain,  and  many 
wounded,  which  seemed  to  increase  the  interest 
and  pleasure  of  the  spectators.  The  contest  would 
have  continued  longer,  and  might  have  been  still 
more  bloody,  had  not  the  Adelantado  and  the 
other  cavaliers  interfered  and  begged  that  the 
game  might  cease. f 

When  the  festivities  were  over,  and  familiar  in- 
tercourse had  promoted  mutual  confidence,  the 
Adelantado  addressed  the  cacique  and  Anacaona 
on  the  real  object  of  his  visit.  He  informed  him 
that  his  brother,  the  admiral,  had  been  sent  to 
this  island  by  the  sovereigns  of  Castile,  who  were 
great  and  mighty  potentates,  with  many  kingdoms 
under  their  sway.  That  the  admiral  had  returned 
to  apprise  his  sovereigns  how  many  tributary  ca- 
ciques there  were  in  the  island,  leaving  him  in 
command,  and  that  he  had  come  to  receive  Be- 
hechio under  the  protection  of  these  mighty  sov- 
ereigns, and  to  arrange  a  tribute  to  be  paid  by 
him,  in  such  manner  as  should  be  most  conven- 
ient and  satisfactory  to  himself.  J 

The  cacique  was  greatly  embarrassed  by  this 
demand,  knowing  the  sufferings  inflicted  on  the 


*  "  These  serpentes  are  lykeunto  crocodiles,  saving 
in  bygness  ;  they  call  them  guanas.  Unto  that  day 
none  of  owre  men  durste  adventure  to  taste  of  them, 
by  reason  of  theyre  horrible  deformitie  and  loth- 
somnes.  Yet  the  Adelantado  being  entysed  by  the 
pleasantnes  of  the  king's  sister,  Anacaona,  determin- 
ed to  taste  the  serpentes.  But  when  he  felte  the  flesh 
thereof  to  be  so  delycate  to  his  tongue,  he  fel  to 
amayne  without  al  feare.  The  which  thyng  his  com- 
panions perceiving,  were  not  behynde  hym  in  greedy- 
nesse  :  insomuche  that  they  had  now  none  other  talke 
than  of  the  sweetnesse  of  these  serpentes,  which  they 
affirm  to  be  of  more  pleasant  taste,  than  eyther  our 
phesantes  or  partriches. "  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i. 
book  v.  Eden's  Eng.  Trans. 

{Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  113. 
Ibid.,  cap.  114. 


other  parts  of  the  island  by  the  avidity  of  the 
Spaniards  for  gold.  He  replied  that  he  had  been 
apprised  that  gold  was  the  great  object  for  which 
the  white  men  had  come  to  their  island,  and  that 
a  tribute  was  paid  in  it  by  some  of  his  fellow-ca- 
ciques ;  but  that  in  no  part  of  his  territories  was 
gold  to  be  found  ;  and  his  subjects  hardly  knew 
what  it  was.  To  this  the  Adelantado  replied  with 
great  adroitness,  that  nothing  was  farther  from 
the  intention  or  wish  of  his  sovereigns  than  to  re- 
quire a  tribute  in  things  not  produced  in  his  do- 
minions, but  that  it  might  be  paid  in  cotton, 
hemp,  and  cassava  bread,  with  which  the  sur- 
rounding country  appeared  to  abound.  The  coun- 
tenance of  the  cacique  brightened  at  this  intima- 
tion ;  he  promised  cheerful  compliance,  and  in- 
stantly sent  orders  to  all  his  subordinate  caciques 
to  sow  abundance  of  cotton  for  the  first  payment 
of  the  stipulated  tribute.  Having  made  all  the 
requisite  arrangements,  the  Adelantado  took  a 
most  friendly  leave  of  Behechio  and  his  sister, 
and  set  out  for  Isabella. 

Thus  by  amicable  and  sagacious  manage- 
ment, one  of  the  most  extensive  provinces  of  the 
island  was  brought  into  cheerful  subjection,  and 
had  not  the  wise  policy  of  the  Adelantado  been 
defeated  by  the  excesses  of  worthless  and  turbu- 
lent men,  a  large  revenue  might  have  been  col- 
lected, without  any  recourse  to  violence  or  oppres- 
sion. In  all  instances  these  simple  people  appear 
to  have  been  extremely  tractable,  and  meekly  and 
even  cheerfully  to  have  resigned  their  rights  to 
the  white  men,  when  treated  with  gentleness  and 
humanity. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ESTABLISHMENT  OF  A  CHAIN  OF  MILITARY  POSTS 
— INSURRECTION  OF  GUARIONEX,  THE  CACIQUE 
OF  THE  VEGA. 

[I496.] 

ON  arriving  at  Isabella,  Don  Bartholomew 
found  it,  as  usual,  a  scene  of  miser)'  and  repining. 
Many  had  died  during  his  absence  ;  most  were  ill. 
Those  who  were  healthy  complained  of  the  scar- 
city of  food,  and  those  who  were  ill,  of  the  want 
of  medicines.  The  provisions  distributed  among 
them,  from  the  supply  brought  out  a  few  months 
before  by  Pedro  Alonzo  Nifto,  had  been  con- 
sumed. Partly  from  sickness,  and  partly  from  a 
repugnance  to  labor,  they  had  neglected  to  culti- 
vate the  surrounding  country,  and  the  Indians,  on 
whom  they  chiefly  depended,  outraged  by  their 
oppressions,  had  abandoned  the  vicinity,  and  fled 
to  the  mountains  ;  choosing  rather  to  subsist  on 
roots  and  herbs,  in  their  rugged  retreats,  than  re- 
main in  the  luxuriant  plains,  subject  to  the  wrongs 
and  cruelties  of  the  white  men.  The  history  of 
this  island  presents  continual  pictures  of  the  mis- 
eries, the  actual  want  and  poverty  produced  by 
the  grasping  avidity  of  gold.  It  had  rendered  the 
Spaniards  heedless  of  all  the  less  obvious,  but 
more  certain  and  salubrious  sources  of  wealth. 
All  labor  seemed  lost  that  was  to  produce  profit 
by  a  circuitous  process.  Instead  of  cultivating 
the  luxuriant  soil  around  them,  and  deriving  real 
treasures  from  its  surface,  they  wasted  their  time 
in  seeking  for  mines  and  golden  streams,  and 
were  starving  in  the  midst  of  fertility. 

No  sooner  were  the  provisions  exhausted  which 
had  been  brought  out  by  Nifto  than  the 'colonists 
began  to  break  forth  in  their  accustomed  mur- 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


147 


murs.  They  represented  themselves  as  neglected 
by  Columbus,  who,  amid  the  blandishments  and 
delights  of  a  court,  thought  little  of  their  suffer- 
ings. They  considered  themselves  equally  for- 
gotten by  government  ;  while,  having  no  vessel 
in  the  harbor,  they  were  destitute  of  all  means  of 
sending  home  intelligence  of  their  disastrous  situ- 
ation, and  imploring  relief. 

To  remove  this  last  cause  of  discontent,  and 
furnish  some  object  for  their  hopes  and  thoughts 
to  rally  round,  the  Adelantado  ordered  that  two 
caravels  should  be  built  at  Isabella,  for  the  use  of 
the  island.  To  relieve  the  settlement,  also,  from 
all  useless  and  repining  individuals,  during  this 
time  of  scarcity,  he  distributed  such  as  were  too 
ill  to  labor,  or  to  bear  arms,  into  the  interior, 
where  they  would  have  the  benefit  of  a  better  cli- 
mate, and  more  abundant  supply  of  Indian  pro- 
visions. He  at  the  same  time  completed  and  gar- 
risoned the  chain  of  military  posts  established  by 
his  brother  in  the  preceding  year,  consisting  of 
five  fortified  houses,  each  surrounded  by  its  de- 
pendent hamlet.  The  first  of  these  was  about 
nine  leagues  from  Isabella,  and  was  called  la  Es- 
peranza.  Six  leagues  beyond  was  Santa  Catalina. 
Four  leagues  and  a  half  further  was  Magdalena, 
where  the  first  town  of  Santiago  was  afterward 
founded  ;  and  five  leagues  farther  Fort  Concep- 
tion— which  was  fortified  with  great  care,  being 
in  the  vast  and  populous  Vega,  and  within  half  a 
league  from  the  residence  of  its  cacique,  Guari- 
onex.*  Having  thus  relieved  Isabella  of  all  its 
useless  population,  and  left  none  but  such  as  were 
too  ill  to  be  removed,  or  were  required  for  the 
service  and  protection  of  the  place,  and  the  con- 
struction of  the  caravels,  the  Adelantado  returned, 
with  a  large  body  of  the  most  effective  men,  to 
the  fortress  of  San  Domingo. 

The  military  posts,  thus  established,  succeeded 
for  a  time  in  overawing  the  natives  ;  but  fresh 
hostilities  were  soon  manifested,  excited  by  a  dif- 
ferent cause  from  the  preceding.  Among  the  mis- 
sionaries who  had  accompanied  Friar  Boyle  to 
the  island,  were  two  of  far  greater  zeal  than  their 
superior.  When  he  returned  to  Spain,  they  re- 
mained, earnestly  bent  upon  the  fulfilment  of 
their  mission.  One  was  called  Roman  Pane,  a 
poor  hermit,  as  he  styled  himself,  of  the  order  of 
St.  Geronimo  ;  the  other  was  Juan  Borgofion,  a 
Franciscan.  They  resided  for  some  time  among 
the  Indians  of  the  Vega,  strenuously  endeavoring 
to  make  converts,  and  had  succeeded  with  one 
family,  of  sixteen  persons,  the  chief  of  which,  on 
being  baptized,  took  the  name  of  Juan  Mateo. 
The  conversion  of  the  cacique  Guarionex,  how- 
ever, was  their  main  object.  The  extent  of  his 
possessions  made  his  conversion  of  great  impor- 
tance to  the  interests  of  the  colony,  and  was  con- 
sidered by  the  zealous  fathers  a  means  of  bring- 
ing his  numerous  subjects  under  the  dominion  of 
the  church.  For  some  time  he  lent  a  willing  ear  ; 
he  learnt  the  Pater  Noster,  the  Ave  Maria,  and 
the  Creed,  and  made  his  whole  family  repeat 
them  daily.  The  other  caciques  of  the  Vega  and 
of  the  provinces  of  Cibao,  however,  scoffed  at  him 
for  meanly  conforming  to  the  laws  and  customs 
of  strangers,  usurpers  of  his  domains,  and  op- 
pressors of  his  nation.  The  friars  complained 
that,  in  consequence  of  these  evil  communica- 
tions, their  convert  suddenly  relapsed  into  infidel- 
ity ;  but  another  and  more  grievous  cause  is  as- 


*  P.  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  v.  Of  the  residence  of 
Guarionex,  which  must  have  been  a  considerable  town, 
not  the  least  vestige  can  be  discovered- at  present. 


signed  for  his  recantation.  His  favorite  wife  was 
seduced  or  treated  with  outrage  by  a  Spaniard  of 
authority  ;  and  the  cacique  renounced  all  faith  in 
a  religion,  which,  as  he  supposed,  admitted  of 
such  atrocities.  Losing  all  hope  of  effecting  his 
conversion,  the  missionaries  removed  to  the  terri- 
tories of  another  cacique,  taking  with  them  Juan 
Mateo,  their  Indian  convert.  Before  their  depart- 
ure, they  erected  a  small  chapel,  and  furnished 
it  with  an  altar,  crucifix,  and  images,  for  the  use 
of  the  family  of  Mateo. 

Scarcely  had  they  departed,  when  several  In- 
dians entered  the  chapel,  broke  the  images  in 
pieces,  trampled  them  under  foot,  and  buried 
them  in  a  neighboring  field.  This,  it  was  said, 
was  done  by  order  of  Guarionex,  in  contempt  of 
the  religion  from  which  he  had  apostatized.  A 
complaint  of  this  enormity  was  carried  to  the 
Adelantado,  who  ordered  a  suit  to  be  immedi- 
ately instituted,  and  those  who  were  found  culpa- 
ble, to  be  punished  according  to  law.  It  was  a 
period  of  great  rigor  in  ecclesiastical  law,  es- 
pecially among  the  Spaniards.  In  Spain  all  here- 
sies in  religion,  all  recantations  from  the  faith,  and 
all  acts  of  sacrilege,  either  by  Moor  or  Jew,  were 
punished  with  fire  and  fagot.  Such  was  the  fate 
of  the  poor  ignorant  Indians,  convicted  of  this  out- 
rage on  the  church.  It  is  questionable  whether 
Guarionex  had  any  hand  in  this  offence,  and  it  is 
probable  that  the  whole  affair  was  exaggerated. 
A  proof  of  the  credit  due  to  the  evidence  brought 
forward,  may  be  judged  by  one  of  the  facts  re- 
corded by  Roman  Pane,  "  the  poor  hermit."  The 
field  in  which  the  holy  images  were  buried  was 
planted,  he  says,  with  certain  roots  shaped  like  a 
turnip,  or  radish,  several  of  which  coming  up  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  images,  were  found  to  have 
grown  most  miraculously  in  the  form  of  a  cross.* 

The  cruel  punishment  inflicted  on  these  In- 
dians, instead  of  daunting  their  countrymen,  filled 
them  with  horror  and  indignation.  Unaccustom- 
ed to  such  stern  rule  and  vindictive  justice,  and 
having  no  clear  ideas  nor  powerful  sentiments 
with  respect  to  religion  of  any  kind,  they  could 
not  comprehend  the  nature  nor  extent  of  the  crime 
committed.  Even  Guarionex,  a  man  naturally 
moderate  and  pacific,  was  highly  incensed  with 
the  assumption  of  power  within  his  territories, 
and  the  inhuman  death  inflicted  on  his  subjects. 
The  other  caciques  perceived  his  irritation,  and 
endeavored  to  induce  him  to  unite  in  a  sudden  in- 
surrection, that  by  one  vigorous  and  general  ef- 
fort, they  might  break  the  yoke  of  their  oppress- 
ors. Guarionex  wavered  for  some  time.  He 
knew  the  martial  skill  and  prowess  of  the  Span- 
iards ;  he  stood  in  awe  of  their  cavalry,  and  he 
had  before  him  the  disastrous  fate  of  Caonabo  ; 
but  he  was  rendered  bold  by  despair,  and  he  be- 
held in  the  domination  of  these  strangers  the  as- 
sured ruin  of  his  race.  The  early  writers  speak 
of  a  tradition  current  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  island,  respecting  this  Guarionex.  He  was  of 
an  ancient  line  of  hereditary  caciques.  His  father, 
in  times  long  preceding  the  discovery,  having 
fasted  for  five  days,  according  to  their  supersti- 
tious observances,  applied  to  his  zemi,  or  house- 
hold deity,  for  information  of  things  to  come.  He 
received  for  answer  that  within  a  few  years  there 
should  come  to  the  island  a  nation  covered  with 
clothing,  which  should  destroy  all  their  customs 
and  ceremonies,  and  slay  their  children  or  reduce 
them  to  painful  servitude.!  The  tradition  was  prob- 


*  Escritura  de  Fr.  Roman,  Hist,  del  Almirante. 
\  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ix. 


148 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ably  invented  by  the  Butios,  or  priests,  after  the 
Spaniards  had  begun  to  exercise  their  severities. 
Whether  their  prediction  had  an  effect  in  dispos- 
ing the  mind  of  Guarionex  to  hostilities  is  uncer- 
tain. Some  have  asserted  that  he  was  compelled 
to  take  up  arms  by  his  subjects,  who  threatened, 
in  case  of  his  refusal,  to  choose  some  other  chief- 
tain ;  others  have  alleged  the  outrage  committed 
upon  his  favorite  wife,  as  the  principal  cause  of 
his  irritation.*  It  was  probably  these  things 
combined,  which  at  length  induced  him  to  enter 
into  the  conspiracy.  A  secret  consultation  was 
held  among  the  caciques,  wherein  it  was  concert- 
ed, that  on  the  day  of  payment  of  their  quarterly 
tribute,  when  a  great  number  could  assemble 
without  causing  suspicion,  they  should  suddenly 
rise  upon  the  Spaniards  and  massacre  them.f 

By  some  means  the  garrison  at  Fort  Conception 
received  intimation  of  this  conspiracy.  Being  but 
a  handful  of  men,  and  surrounded  by  hostile 
tribes,  they  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Adelantado,  at 
San  Domingo,  imploring  immediate  aid.  As  this 
letter  might  be  taken  from  their  Indian  messen- 
ger, the  natives  having  discovered  that  these  let- 
ters had  a  wonderful  power  of  communicating  in- 
telligence, and  fancying  they  could  talk,  it  was 
inclosed  in  a  reed,  to  be  used  as  a  staff.  The 
messenger  was,  in  fact,  intercepted  ;  but,  affect- 
ing to  be  dumb  and  lame,  and  intimating  by  signs 
that  he  was  returning  home,  was  permitted  to 
limp  forward  on  his  journey.  When  out  of  sight 
he  resumed  his  speed,  and  bore  the  letter  safely 
and  expeditiously  to  San  Domingo.J 

The  Adelantado,  with  his  characteristic  prompt- 
ness and  activity,  set  out  immediately  with  a  body 
of  troops  for  the  fortress  ;  and  though  his  men 
were  much  enfeebled  by  scanty  fare,  hard  ser- 
vice, and  long  marches,  hurried  them  rapidly  for- 
ward. Never  did  aid  arrive  more  opportunely. 
The  Indians  were  assembled  on  the  plain,  to  the 
amount  of  many  thousands,  armed  after  their 
manner,  and  waiting  for  the  appointed  time  to 
strike  the  blow.  After  consulting  with  the  com- 
mander of  the  fortress  and  his  officers,  the  Ade- 
lantado concerted  a  mode  of  proceeding.  Ascer- 
taining the  places  in  which  the  various  caciques 
had  distributed  their  forces,  he  appointed  an  offi- 
cer with  a  body  of  men  to  each  cacique,  with  or- 
ders, at  an  appointed  hour  of  the  night,  to  rush 
into  the  villages,  surprise  them  asleep  and  unarm- 
ed, bind  the  caciques,  and  bring  them  off  prison- 
ers. As  Guarionex  was  the  most  important  per- 
sonage, and  his  capture  would  probably  be  at- 
tended with  most  difficulty  and  danger,  the  Ade- 
lantado took  the  charge  of  it  upon  himself,  at  the 
head  of  one  hundred  men. 

This  stratagem,  founded  upon  a  knowledge  of 
the  attachment  of  the  Indians  to  their  chieftains, 
and  calculated  to  spare  a  great  effusion  of  blood, 
was  completely  successful.  The  villages  having 
no  walls  nor  other  defences,  were  quietly  entered 
at  midnight,  and  the  Spaniards,  rushing  suddenly 
into  the  houses  where  the  caciques  were  quarter- 
ed, seized  and  bound  them,  to  the  number  of  four- 
teen, and  hurried  them  off  to  the  fortress,  before 
any  effort  could  be  made  for  their  defence  or  res- 
cue. The  Indians,  struck  with  terror,  made  no 
resistance,  nor  any  show  of  hostility  ;  surrounding 
the  fortress  in  great  multitudes,  but  without  weap- 
ons, they  filled  the  air  with  doleful  howlings  and 


::   Las  Casas,  Hist  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  121. 
f  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  65.     Peter  Martyr, 
decad.  vi.  lib.  v. 
J  Herrera,  .Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  7. 


lamentations,  imploring  the  release  of  their  chief- 
tains. The  Adelantado  completed  his  enterprise 
with  the  spirit,  sagacity,  and  moderation  with 
which  he  had  hitherto  conducted  it.  He  obtained 
information  of  the  causes  of  this  conspiracy,  and 
the  individuals  most  culpable.  Two  caciques,  the 
principal  movers  of  the  insurrection,  and  who  had 
most  wrought  upon  the  easy  nature  of  Guarionex, 
were  put  to  death.  As  to  that  unfortunate  ca- 
cique, the  Adelantado,  considering  the  deep 
wrongs  he  had  suffered,  and  the  slowness  with 
which  he  had  been  provoked  to  revenge,  magnan- 
imously pardoned  him  ;  nay,  according  to  Las 
Casas,  he  proceeded  with  stern  justice  against  the 
Spaniard  whose  outrage  on  his  wife  had  sunk  so 
deeply  in  his  heart.  He  extended  his  lenity  also 
to  the  remaining  chieftains  of  the  conspiracy  ; 
promising  great  favors  and  rewards,  if  they  should 
continue  firm  in  their  loyalty  ;  but  terrible  pun- 
ishments should  they  again  be  found  in  rebellion. 
The  heart  of  Guarionex  was  subdued  by  this  un- 
expected clemency.  He  made  a  speech  to  his 
people  setting  forth  the  irresistible  might  and 
valor  of  the  Spaniards  ;  their  great  lenity  to 
offenders,  and  their  generosity  to  such  as  were 
faithful  ;  and  he  earnestly  exhorted  them  hence- 
forth to  cultivate  their  friendship.  The  Indians 
listened  to  him  with  attention  ;  his  praises  of 
the  white  men  were  confirmed  by  their  treat- 
ment of  himself ;  when  he  had  concluded,  they 
took  him  up  on  their  shoulders,  bore  him  to  his 
habitation  with  songs  and  shouts  of  joy,  and  for 
some  time  the  tranquillity  of  the  Vega  was  re- 
stored.* 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    ADELANTADO    REPAIRS     TO     XARAGUA     TO 
RECEIVE  TRIBUTE. 

[H97-] 

WITH  all  his  energy  and  discretion,  the  Ade- 
lantado found  it  difficult  to  manage  the  proud  and 
turbulent  spirit  of  the  colonists.  They  could  ill 
brook  the  sway  of  a  foreigner,  who,  when  they 
were  restive,  curbed  them  with  an  iron  hand. 
Don  Bartholomew  had  not  the  same  legitimate 
authority  in  their  eyes  as  his  brother.  The  ad- 
miral was  the  discoverer  of  the  country,  and  the 
authorized  representative  of  the  sovereigns  ;  yet 
even  him  they  with  difficulty  brought  themselves 
to  obey.  The  Adelantado,  on  the  contrary,  was 
regarded  by  many  as  a  mere  intruder,  assuming 
high  command  without  authority  from  the  crown, 
and  shouldering  himself  into  power  on  the  merits 
and  services  of  his  brother.  They  spoke  with  im- 
patience and  indignation,  also,  of  the  long  absence 
of  the  admiral,  and  his  fancied  inattention  to  their 
wants  ;  little  aware  of  the  incessant  anxieties  he 
was  suffering  on  their  account,  during  his  deten- 
tion in  Spain.  The  sagacious  measure  of  the 
Adelantado  in  building  the  caravels,  for  some 
time  diverted  their  attention.  They  watched  their 
progress  with  solicitude,  looking  upon  them  as  a 
means  either  of  obtaining  relief  or  of  abandoning 
the  island.  Aware  that  repining  and  discontented 
men  should  never  be  left  in  idleness,  Don  Barthol- 
omew kept  them  continually  in  movement  ;  and 
indeed  a  state  of  constant  activity  was  congenial 
to  his  own  vigorous  spirit.  About  this  time  mes- 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  v.     Herrera,   Hist 
Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  6. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


149 


sengers  arrived  from  Behechio,  cacique  of  Xara- 
gua, informing  him  that  he  had  large  quantities 
of  cotton,  and  other  articles,  in  which  his  tribute 
was  to  be  paid,  ready  for  delivery.  The  Adelan- 
tado  immediately  set  forth  with  a  numerous  train, 
to  revisit  this  fruitful  and  happy  region.  He  was 
again  received  with  songs  and  dances,  and  all  the 
national  demonstrations  of  respect  and  amity  by 
Behechio  and  his  sister  Anacaona.  The  latter  ap- 
peared to  be  highly  popular  among  the  natives, 
and  to  have  almost  as  much  sway  in  Xaragua  as 
her  brother.  Her  natural  ease,  and  the  graceful 
dignity  of  her  manners,  more  and  more  won  the 
admiration  of  the  Spaniards. 

The  Adelantado  found  thirty-two  inferior  ca- 
ciques assembled  in  the  house  of  Behechio,  await- 
ing his  arrival  with  their  respective  tributes. 
The  cotton  they  had  brought  was  enough  to  fill 
one  of  their  houses.  Having  delivered  this,  they 
gratuitously  offered  the  Adelantado  as  much  cas- 
sava bread  as  he  desired.  The  offer  was  most 
acceptable  in  the  present  necessitous  state  of  the 
colony  ;  and  Don  Bartholomew  sent  to  Isabella 
for  one  of  the  caravels,  which  was  nearly  finished, 
to  be  dispatched  as  soon  as  possible  to  Xaragua, 
to  be  freighted  with  bread  and  cotton. 

In  the  mean  time  the  natives  brought  from  all 
quarters  large  supplies  of  provisions,  and  enter- 
tained their  guests  with  continual  festivity  and 
banqueting.  The  early  Spanish  writers,  whose  im- 
aginations, heated  by  the  accounts  of  the  voy- 
agers, could  not  form  an  idea  of  the  simplicity  of 
savage  life,  especially  in  these  newly  discovered 
countries,  which  were  supposed  to  border  upon 
Asia,  often  speak  in  terms  of  Oriental  magnifi- 
cence of  the  entertainments  of  the  natives,  the 
palaces  of  the  caciques,  and  the  lords  and  ladies 
of  their  courts,  as  if  they  were  describing  the 
abodes  of  Asiatic  potentates.  The  accounts  given 
of  Xaragua,  however,  have  a  different  character  ; 
and  give  a  picture  of  savage  life,  in  its  perfection 
of  idle  and  ignorant  enjoyment.  The  troubles 
which  distracted  the  other  parts  of  devoted  Hayti 
had  not  reached  the  inhabitants  of  this  pleasant 
region.  Living  among  beautiful  and  fruitful 
groves,  on  the  borders  of  a  sea,  apparently  forever 
tranquil  and  unvexed  by  storms  ;  having  few 
wants,  and  those  readily  supplied,  they  appeared 
emancipated  from  the  common  lot  of  labor,  and 
to  pass  their  lives  in  one  uninterrupted  holiday. 
When  the  Spaniards  regarded  the  fertility  and 
sweetness  of  this  country,  the  gentleness  of  its 
people,  and  the  beauty  of  its  women,  they  pro- 
nounced it  a  perfect  paradise. 

At  length  the  caravel  arrived  which  was  to  be 
freighted  with  the  articles  of  tribute.  It  anchored 
about  six  miles  from  the  residence  of  Behechio, 
and  Anacaona  proposed  to  her  brother  that  they 
should  go  together  to  behold  what  she  called  the 
great  canoe  of  the  white  men.  On  their  way  to 
the  coast,  the  Adelantado  was  lodged  one  night 
in  a  village,  in  a  house  where  Anacaona  treasured 
up  those  articles  which  she  esteemed  most  rare 
and  precious.  They  consisted  of  various  manu- 
factures of  cotton,  ingeniously  wrought  ;  of  ves- 
sels of  clay,  moulded  into  different  forms  ;  of 
chairs,  tables,  and  like  articles  of  furniture, 
formed  of  ebony  and  other  kinds  of  wood,  and 
carved  with  various  devices — all  evincing  great 
skill  and  ingenuity  in  a  people  who  had  no  iron 
tools  to  work  with.  Such  were  the  simple  treas- 
ures of  this  Indian  princess,  of  which  she  made 
numerous  presents  to  her  guest. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  wonder  and  delight 


of  this  intelligent  woman  when  she  first  beheld 
the  ship.  Her  brother,  who  treated  her  with  a 
fraternal  fondness  and  respectful  attention,  worthy 
of  civilized  life,  had  prepared  two  canoes,  gayly 
painted  and  decorated,  one  to  convey  her  and  hei 
attendants,  and  the  other  for  himself  and  his 
chieftains.  Anacaona,  however,  preferred  to  em- 
bark with  her  attendants  in  the  ship's  boat  with 
the  Adelantado.  As  they  approached  the  caravel, 
a  salute  was  fired.  At  the  report  of  the  cannon, 
and  the  sight  of  the  smoke,  Anacaona,  overcome 
with  dismay,  fell  into  the  arms  of  the  Adelantado, 
and  her  attendants  would  have  leaped  overboard, 
but  the  laughter  and  the  cheerful  words  of  Don 
Bartholomew  speedily  reassured  them.  As  they 
drew  nearer  to  the  vessel,  several  instruments  of 
martial  music  struck  up,  with  which  they  were 
greatly  delighted.  Their  admiration  increased  on 
entering  on  board.  Accustomed  only  to  their  sim- 
ple and  slight  canoes,  everything  here  appeared 
wonderfully  vast  and  complicated.  But  when  the 
anchor  was  weighed,  the  sails  were  spread,  and, 
aided  by  a  gentle  breeze,  they  beheld  this  vast 
mass,  moving  apparently  by  its  own  volition, 
veering  from  side  to  side,  and  playing  like  a  huge 
monster  in  the  deep,  the  brother  and  sister  re- 
mained gazing  at  each  other  in  mute  astonish- 
ment.* Nothing  seems  to  have  filled  the  mind  of 
the  most  stoical  savage  with  more  wonder  than 
that  sublime  and  beautiful  triumph  of  genius,  a 
ship  under  sail. 

Having  freighted  and  dispatched  the  caravel, 
the  Adelantado  made  many  presents  to  Behechio, 
his  sister,  and  their  attendants,  and  took  leave  of 
them,'  to  return  by  land  with  his  troops  to  Isa- 
bella. Anacaona  showed  great  affliction  at  their 
parting,  entreating  him  to  remain  some  time 
longer  with  them,  and  appearing  fearful  that  they 
had  failed  in  their  humble  attempt  to  please  him. 
She  even  offered  to  follow  him  to  the  settlement, 
nor  would  she  be  consoled  .until  he  had  promised 
to  return  again  to  Xaragua. f 

We  cannot  but  remark  the  ability  shown  by  the 
Adelantado  in  the  course  of  his  transient  govern- 
ment of  the  island.  Wonderfully  alert  and  ac- 
tive, he  made  repeated  marches  of  great  extent, 
from  one  remote  province  to  another,  and  was 
always  at  the  post  of  danger  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment. By  skilful  management,  with  a  handful  of 
men  he  defeated  a  formidable  insurrection  with- 
out any  effusion  of  blood.  He  conciliated  the 
most  inveterate  enemies  among  the  natives  by 
great  moderation,  while  he  deterred  all  wanton 
hostilities  by  the  infliction  of  signal  punishments. 
He  had  made  firm  friends  of  the  most  important 
chieftains,  brought  their  dominions  under  cheer- 
ful tribute,  opened  new  sources  of  supplies  for  the 
colony,  and  procured  relief  from  its  immediate 
wants.  Had  his  judicious  measures  been  second- 
ed by  those  under  his  command,  the  whole  coun- 
try would  have  been  a  scene  of  tranquil  pros- 
perity, and  would  have  produced  great  revenues 
to  the  crown,  without  cruelty  to  the  natives  ;  but, 
like  his  brother  the  admiral,  his  good  intentions 
and  judicious  arrangements  were  constantly 
thwarted  by  the  vile  passions  and  perverse  con- 
duct of  others.  While  he  was  absent  from  Isa- 
bella, new  mischiefs  had  been  fomented  there, 
which  were  soon  to  throw  the  whole  island  into 
confusion. 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  v.     Herrera,  decad. 
i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  6. 
f  Ramusio,  vol.  iii.  p.  9. 


150 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CONSPIRACY  OF  ROLDAN. 
[I497-] 

THE  prime  mover  of  the  present  mischief  was 
one  Francisco  Rolclan,  a  man  under  the  deepest 
obligations  to  the  admiral.  Raised  by  him  from 
poverty  and  obscurity,  he  had  been  employed  at 
first  in  menial  capacities  ;  but,  showing  strong 
natural  talents  and  great  assiduity,  he  had  been 
made  ordinary  alcalde,  equivalent  to  justice  of  the 
peace.  The  able  manner  in  which  he  acquitted 
himself  in  this  situation,  and  the  persuasion  of  his 
great  fidelity  and  gratitude,  induced  Columbus,  on 
departing  for  Spain,  to  appoint  him  alcalde  mayor, 
or  chief  judge  of  the  island.  It  is  true  he  was  an 
uneducated  man,  but,  as  there  were  as  yet  no  in- 
tricacies of  law  in  the  colony,  the  office  required 
little  else  than  shrewd  good  sense  and  upright 
principles  for  its  discharge.* 

Rolclan  was  one  of  those  base  spirits  which  grow 
venomous  in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity.  His 
benefactor  had  returned  to  Spain  apparently  un- 
der a  cloud  of  disgrace  ;  a  long  interval  had 
elapsed  without  tidings  from  him  ;  he  considered 
him  a  fallen  man,  and  began  to  devise  how  he 
might  profit  by  his  downfall.  He  was  intrusted 
with  an  office  inferior  only  to  that  of  the  Adelan- 
tado  ;  the  brothers  of  Columbus  were  highly  un- 
popular ;  he  imagined  it  possible  to  ruin  them, 
both  with  the  colonists  and  with  the  government 
at  home,  and  by  dexterous  cunning  and  bustling 
activity,  to  work  his  way  into  the  command  of  the 
colony.  The  vigorous  and  somewhat  austere 
character  of  the  Adelantado  for  some  time  kept  him 
in  awe  ;  but  when  he  was  absent  from  the  settle- 
ment, Roldan  was  able  to  carry  on  his  machina- 
tions with  confidence.  Don  Diego,  who  then 
commanded  at  Isabella,  .was  an  upright  and 
worthy  man,  but  deficient  in  energy.  Roldan  felt 
himself  his  superior  in  talent  and  spirit,  and  his 
self-conceit  was  wounded  at  being  inferior  to  him 
in  authority.  He  soon  made  a  party  among  the 
daring  and  dissolute  of  the  community,  and  se- 
cretly loosened  the  ties  of  order  and  good  govern- 
ment by  listening  to  and  encouraging  the  discon- 
tents of  the  common  people,  and  directing  them 
against  the  character  and  conduct  of  Columbus 
and  his  brothers.  He  had  heretofore  been  em- 
ployed as  superintendent  of  various  public  works  ; 
this  brought  him  into  familiar  communication 
with  workmen,  sailors,  and  others  of  the  lower 
order.  His  originally  vulgar  character  enabled 
him  to  adapt  himself  to  their  intellects  and  man- 
ners, while  his  present  station  gave  him  conse- 
quence in  their  eyes.  Finding  them  full  of  mur- 
murs about  hard  treatment,  severe  toil,  and  the 
long  absence  of  the  admiral,  he  affected  to  be 
moved  by  their  distresses.  He  threw  out  sugges- 
tions that  the  admiral  might  never  return,  being 
disgraced  and  ruined  in  consequence  of  the  repre- 
sentations of  Aguado.  He  sympathized  with  the 
hard  treatment  they  experienced  from  the  Adelan- 
tado and  his  brother  Don  Diego,  who,  being  for- 
eigners, could  take  no  interest  in  their  welfare, 
nor  feel  a  proper  respect  for  the  pride  of  a  Span- 
iard ;  but  who  used  them  merely  as  slaves,  to 
build  houses  and  fortresses  for  them,  or  to  swell 
their  state  and  secure  their  power,  as  they 
marched  about  the  island  enriching  themselves 
with  the  spoils  of  the  caciques.  By  these  sugges- 
tions he  exasperated  their  feelings  to  such  a 

*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  i. 


height,  that  they  had  at  one  time  formed  a  con- 
spiracy to  take  away  the  life  of  the  Adelantado, 
as  the  only  means  of  delivering  themselves  from 
an  odious  tyrant.  The  time  and  place  for  the  per- 
petration of  the  act  were  concerted.  The  Adelan- 
tado had  condemned  to  death  a  Spaniard  of  the 
name  of  Berahona,  a  friend  of  Roldan,  and  of 
several  of  the  conspirators.  What  was  his  offence  is 
not  positively  stated,  but  from  a  passage  in  Las 
Casas,*  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  he  was  the 
very  Spaniard  who  had  violated  the  favorite  wife 
of  Guarionex,  the  cacique  of  the  Vega.  The 
Adelantado  would  be  present  at  the  execution.  It 
was  arranged,  therefore,  that  when  the  populace 
had  assembled,  a  tumult  should  be  made  as  if  by 
accident,  and  in  the  confusion  of  the  moment  Don 
Bartholomew  should  be  dispatched  with  a  pon- 
iard. Fortunately  for  the  Adelantado,  he  par- 
doned the  criminal,  the  assemblage  did  not  take 
place,  and  the  plan  of  the  conspirators  was  dis- 
concerted. f 

When  Don  Bartholomew  was  absent  collecting 
the  tribute  in  Xaragua,  Rolclan  thought  it  was  a 
favorable  time  to  bring  affairs  to  a  crisis.  He  had 
sounded  the  feelings  of  the  colonists,  and  ascer- 
tained that  there  was  a  large  party  disposed  for 
open  sedition.  His  plan  was  to  create  a  popular 
tumult,  to  interpose  in  his  official  character  of 
alcalde  mayor,  to  throw  the  blame  upon  the  oppres- 
sion and  injustice  of  Don  Diego  and  his  brother, 
and,  while  he  usurped  the  reins  of  authority, 
to  appear  as  if  actuated  only  by  zeal  tor  the  peace 
and  prosperity  of  the  island,  and  the  interests  of 
the  sovereigns. 

A  pretext  soon  presented  itself  for  the  proposed 
tumult.  When  the  caravel  returned  from  Xara- 
gua laden  with  the  Indian  tributes,  and  the  cargo 
was  discharged,  Don  Diego  had  the  vessel  drawn 
up  on  the  land,  to  protect  it  from  accidents,  or 
from  any  sinister  designs  of  the  disaffected  colo- 
nists. Roldan  immediately  pointed  this  circum- 
stance out  to  his  partisans.  He  secretly  inveighed 
against  the  hardship  of  having  this  vessel  drawn 
on  shore,  instead  of  being  left  afloat  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  colony,  or  sent  to  Spain  to  make  known 
their  distresses.  He  hinted  that  the  true  reason 
was  the  fear  of  the  Adelantado  and  his  brother, 
lest  accounts  should  be  carried  to  Spain  of  their 
misconduct,  and  he  affirmed  that  they  wished  to 
remain  undisturbed  masters  of  the  island,  and 
keep  the  Spaniards  there  as  subjects,  or  rather  as 
slaves.  The  people  took  fire  at  these  sugges- 
tions. They  had  long  looked  forward  to  the  com- 
pletion of  the  caravels  as  their  only  chance  for 
relief  ;  they  now  insisted  that  the  vessel  should  be 
launched  and  sent  to  Spain  for  supplies.  Don 
Diego  endeavored  to  convince  them  of  the  folly  of 
their  demand,  the  vessel  not  being  rigged  and 
equipped  for  such  a  voyage  ;  but  the  more  he  at- 
tempted to  pacify  them,  the  more  unreasonable 
and  turbulent  they  became.  Roldan,  also,  be- 
came more  bold  and  explicit  in  his  instigations. 
He  advised  them  to  launch  and  take  possession  of 
the  caravel,  as  the  only  mode  of  regaining  their 
independence.  They  might  then  throw  off  the 
tyranny  of  these  upstart  strangers,  enemies  in 
their  hearts  to  Spaniards,  and  might  lead  a  life  of 
ease  and  pleasure  ;  sharing  equally  all  that  they 
might  gain  by  barter  in  the  island,  employing  the 
Indians  as  slaves  to  work  for  them,  and  enjoying 
unrestrained  indulgence  with  respect  to  the  Indian 


women, 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  118. 
f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  73. 


Ibid. 


///////    ////"/////,?/  //.     //////////  /////////.;/  r  S-/////////J. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


151 


Don  Diego  received  information  of  what  was 
fermenting  among  the  people,  yet  feared  to  come 
to  an  open  rupture  with  Roldan  in  the  present 
mutinous  state  of  the  colony.  He  suddenly  de- 
tached him,  therefore,  with  forty  men,  to  the  Vega, 
under  pretext  of  overawing  certain  of  the  natives 
who  had  refused  to  pay  their  tribute,  and  had 
shown  a  disposition  to  revolt.  Roldan  made  use 
of  this  opportunity  to  strengthen  his  faction.  He 
made  friends  and  partisans  among  the  discontent- 
ed caciques,  secretly  justifying  them  in  their  re- 
sistance to  the  imposition  of  tribute,  and  promis- 
ing them  redress.  He  secured  the  devotion  of  his 
own  soldiers  by  great  acts  of  indulgence,  disarm- 
ing and  dismissing  such  as  refused  full  participa- 
tion in  his  plans,  and  returned  with  his  little  band 
to  Isabella,  where  he  felt  secure  of  a  strong  party 
among  the  common  people. 

The  Adelantado  had  by  this  time  returned  from 
Xaragua  ;  but  Roldan,  feeling  himself  at  the  head 
of  a  strong  faction,  and  arrogating  to  himself  great 
authority  from  his  official  station,  now  openly  de- 
manded that  the  caravel  should  be  launched,  or 
permission  given  to  himself  and  his  followers  to 
launch  it.  The  Adelantado  peremptorily  refused, 
observing  that  neither  he  nor  his  companions 
were  mariners,  nor  was  the  caravel  furnished  and 
equipped  for  sea,  and  that  neither  the  safety  of  the 
vessel  nor  of  the  people  should  be  endangered 
by  their  attempt  to  navigate  her. 

Roldan  perceived  that  his  motives  were  suspect- 
ed, and  felt  that  the  Adelantado  was  too  formida- 
ble an  adversary  to  contend  with  in  any  open 
sedition  at  Isabella.  He  determined,  therefore, 
to  carry  his  plans  into  operation  in  some  more 
favorable  part  of  the  island,  always  trusting  to 
excuse  any  open  rebellion  against  the  authority  of 
Don  Bartholomew,  by  representing  it  as  a  patri- 
otic opposition  to  his  tyranny  over  Spaniards.  He 
had  seventy  well-armed  and  determined  men 
under  his  command,  and  he  trusted,  on  erecting 
his  standard,  to  be  joined  by  all  the  disaffected 
throughout  the  island.  He  set  off  suddenly, 
therefore,  for  the  Vega,  intending  to  surprise  the 
fortress  of  Conception,  and  by  getting  command 
of  that  post  and  the  rich  country  adjacent,  to  set 
the  Adelantado  at  defiance. 

He  stopped  on  his  way  at  various  Indian  vil- 
lages in  which  the  Spaniards  were  distributed, 
endeavoring  to  enlist  the  latter  in  his  party,  by 
holding  out  promises  of  great  gain  and  free  liv- 
ing. He  attempted  also  to  seduce  the  natives 
from  their  allegiance,  by  promising  them  freedom 
from  all  tribute.  Those  caciques  with  whom  he 
had  maintained  a  previous  understanding,  receiv- 
ed him  with  open  arms  ;  particularly  one  who  had 
taken  the  name  of  Diego  Marque,  whose  village 
he  made  his  headquarters,  being  about  two  leagues 
from  Fort  Conception.  He  was  disappointed  in 
his  hopes  of  surprising  the  fortress.  Its  com- 
mander, Miguel  Ballester,  was  an  old  and  stanch 
soldier,  both  resolute  and  wary.  He  drew  him- 
self into  his  stronghold  on  the  approach  of  Rol- 
dan, and  closed  his  gates.  His  garrison  was 
small,  but  the  fortification,  situated  on  the  side  of 
a  hill,  with  a  river  running  at  its  foot,  was  proof 
against  any  assault.  Roldan  had  still  some  hopes 
that  Ballester  might  be  disaffected  to  government, 
and  might  be  gradually  brought  into  his  plans,  or 
that  the  garrison  would  be  disposed  to  desert, 
tempted  by  the  licentious  life  which  he  permitted 
among  his  followers.  In  the  neighborhood  was 
the  town  inhabited  by  Guarionex.  Here  were 
quartered  thirty  soldiers,  under  the  command  of 
Captain  Garcia  de  Barrantes.  Roldan  repaired 


thither  with  his  armed  force,  hoping  to  enlist  Bar- 
rantes and  his  party  ;  but  the  captain  shut  himself 
up  with  his  men  in  a  fortified  house,  refusing  to 
permit  them  to  hold  any  communication  with 
Roldan.  The  latter  threatened  to  set  fire  to  the 
house  ;  but  after  a  little  consideration,  contented 
himself  with  seizing  their  store  of  provisions,  and 
then  marched  toward  Fort  Conception,  which  was 
not  quite  half  a  league  distant.* 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ADELANTADO  REPAIRS  TO  THE  VEGA  IN 
RELIEF  OF  FORT  CONCEPTION — HIS  INTERVIEW 
WITH  ROLDAN. 

[I497-] 

THE  Adelantado  had  received  intelligence  of 
the  flagitous  proceedings  of  Roldan,  yet  hesitated 
for  a  time  to  set  out  in  pursuit  of  him.  He  had 
lost  all  confidence  in  the  loyalty  of  the  people 
around  him,  and  knew  not  how  far  the  conspiracy 
extended,  nor  on  whom  he  could  rely.  Diego  de 
Escobar,  alcayde  of  the  fortress  of  La  Madelena, 
together  with  Adrian  de  Moxica  and  Pedro  de 
Valdivieso,  all  principal  men,  were  in  league  with 
Roldan.  He  feared  that  the  commander  of  Fort 
Conception  might  likewise  be  in  the  plot,  and  the 
whole  island  in  arms  against  him.  He  was  reas- 
sured, however,  by  tidings  from  Miguel  Ballaster. 
That  loyal  veteran  wrote  to  him  pressing  letters 
for  succor,  representing  the  weakness  of  his  gar- 
rison, and  the  increasing  forces  of  the  rebels. 

Don  Bartholomew  hastened  to  his  assistance 
with  his  accustomed  promptness,  and  threw  him- 
self with  a  reinforcement  into  the  fortress.  Being 
ignorant  of  the  force  of  the  rebels,  and  doubtful  of 
the  loyalty  of  his  own  followers,  he  determined  to 
adopt  mild  measures.  Understanding  that  Rol- 
dan was  quartered  at  a  village  but  half  a  league 
distant,  he  sent  a  message  to  him,  remonstrating 
on  the  flagrant  irregularity  of  his  conduct,  the  in- 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  7.     Hist,  del   Al- 
mirante,  cap.  74. 
Extract  of  a  letter  from  T.  S.  ffeneken,  Esq.,  1847. 

Fort  Conception  is  situated  at  the  foot  of  a  hill  now 
called  Santo  Cerro.  It  is  constructed  of  bricks,  and 
is  almost  as  entire  at  the  present  day  as  when  just 
finished.  It  stands  in  the  gloom  of  an  exuberant  for- 
est which  has  invaded  the  scene  of  former  bustle  and 
activity  ;  a  spot  once  considered  of  great  importance, 
and  surrounded  by  swarms  of  intelligent  beings. 

What  has  become  of  the  countless  multitudes  this 
fortress  was  intended  to  awe  ?  Not  a  trace  of  them 
remains  excepting  in  the  records  of  history.  The  si- 
lence of  the  tomb  prevails  where  their  habitations  re- 
sponded to  their  songs  and  dances.  A  few  indigent 
Spaniards,  living  in  miserable  hovels,  scattered  widely 
apart  in  the  bosom  of  the  forest,  are  now  the  sole  oc- 
cupants of  this  once  fruitful  and  beautiful  region. 

A  Spanish  town  gradually  grew  up  round  the  for- 
tress, the  ruins  of  which  extend  to  a  considerable 
distance.  It  was  destroyed  by  an  earthquake,  at  nine 
o'clock  of  the  morning  cf  Saturday,  2Otn  April,  1564, 
during  the  celebration  of  mass.  Part  of  the  massive 
walls  of  a  handsome  church  still  remain,  as  well  as 
those  of  a  very  large  convent  or  hospital,  supposed  to 
have  been  constructed  in  pursuance  of  the  testament- 
ary dispositions  of  Columbus.  The  inhabitants  who 
survived  the  catastrophe  retired  to  a  small  chapel,  on 
the  banks  of  a  river,  about  a  league  distant,  where  the 
new  town  of  La  Vega  was  afterward  built. 


152 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


jury  it  was  calculated  to  produce  in  the  island, 
and  the  certain  ruin  it  must  bring  upon  himself, 
and  summoning  him  to  appear  at  the  fortress, 
pledging  his  word  for  his  personal  safety.  Roldan 
repaired  accordingly  to  Fort  Conception,  where 
the  Adelantado  held  a  parley  with  him  from  a 
window,  demanding  the  reason  of  his  appearing 
in  arms,  in  opposition  to  royal  authority.  Roldan 
replied  boldly,  that  he  was  in  the  service  of  his 
sovereigns,  defending  their  subjects  from  the  op- 
pression of  men  who  sought  their  destruction. 
The  Adelantado  ordered  him  to  surrender  his  staff 
of  office,  as  alcalde  mayor,  and  to  submit  peace- 
ably to  superior  authority.  Roldan  refused  to  re- 
sign his  office,  or  to  put  himself  in  the  power  of 
Don  Bartholomew,  whom  he  charged  with  seek- 
ing his  life.  He  refused  also  to  submit  to  any 
trial,  unless  commanded  by  the  king.  Pretend- 
ing, however,  to  make  no  resistance  to  the  peace- 
able exercise  of  authority,  he  offered  to  go  with 
his  followers,  and  reside  at  any  place  the  Adelan- 
tado might  appoint.  The  latter  immediately  des- 
ignated the  village  of  the  cacique  Diego  Colon, 
the  same  native  of  the  Lucayos  Islands  who  had 
been  baptized  in  Spain,  and  had  since  married  a 
daughter  of  Guarionex.  Roldan  objected,  pre- 
tending there  were  not  sufficient  provisions  to  be 
had  there  for  the  subsistence  of  his  men,  and  de- 
parted, declaring  that  he  would  seek  a  more  eli- 
gible residence  elsewhere.* 

He  now  proposed  to  his  followers  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  remote  province  of  Xaragua.  The 
Spaniards  who  had  returned  thence  gave  enticing 
accounts  of  the  life  they  had  led  there  ;  of  the  fer- 
tility of  the  soil,  the  sweetness  of  the  climate,  the 
hospitality  and  gentleness  of  the  people,  their 
feasts,  dances,  and  various  amusements,  and, 
above  all,  the  beauty  of  the  women  ;  for  they  had 
been  captivated  by  the  naked  charms  of  the  danc- 
ing nymphs  of  Xaragua.  In  this  delightful  region, 
emancipated  from  the  iron  rule  of  the  Adelantado, 
and  relieved  from  the  necessity  of  irksome  labor, 
they  might  lead  a  life  of  perfect  freedom  and  in- 
dulgence, and  have  a  world  of  beauty  at  their 
command.  In  short,  Roldan  drew  a  picture  of 
loose  sensual  enjoyment,  such  as  he  knew  to  be 
irresistible  with  men  of  idle  and  dissolute  habits. 
His  followers  acceded  with  joy  to  his  proposition. 
Some  preparations,  however,  were  necessary  to 
carry  it  into  effect.  Taking  advantage  of  the  ab- 
sence of  the  Adelantado,  he  suddenly  marched 
with  his  band  to  Isabella,  and  entering  it  in  a 
manner  by  surprise,  endeavored  to  launch  the 
caravel,  with  which  they  might  sail  to  Xaragua. 
Don  Diego  Columbus,  hearing  the  tumult,  issued 
forth  with  several  cavaliers  ;  but  such  was  the 
force  of  the  mutineers  and  their  menacing  conduct, 
that  he  was  obliged  to  withdraw,  with  his  adher- 
ents, into  the  fortress.  Roldan  held  several  par- 
leys with  him,  and  offered  to  submit  to  his  com- 
mand, provided  he  would  set  himself  up  in  opposi- 
tion to  his  brother  the  Adelantado.  His  proposition 
was  treated  with  scorn.  The  fortress  was  too 
strong  to  be  assailed  with  success  ;  he  found  it 
impossible  to  launch  the  caravel,  and  feared  the 
Adelantado  might  return,  and  he  be  inclosed  be- 
tween two  forces.  He  proceeded,  therefore,  in 
all  haste  to  make  provisions  for  the  proposed  expe- 
dition to  Xaragua.  Still  pretending  to  act  in  his 
official  capacity,  and  to  do  everything  from  loyal 
motives,  for  the  protection  and  support  of  the  op- 
pressed subjects  of  the  crown,  he  broke  open  the 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  7.     Hist,  del  Al- 
mirante,  cap.  74. 


royal  warehouse,  with  shouts  of  "  Long  live  the 
king  !"  supplied  his  followers  with  arms,  ammu- 
nition, clothing,  and  whatever  they  desired  from 
the  public  stores  ;  proceeded  to  the  inclosure 
where  the  cattle  and  other  European  animals  were 
kept  to  breed,  took  such  as  he  thought  necessary 
for  his  intended  establishment,  and  permitted  his 
followers  to  kill  such  of  the  remainder  as  they 
might  want  for  present  supply.  Having  commit- 
ted this  wasteful  ravage,  he  marched  in  triumph 
out  of  Isabella.*  Reflecting,  however,  on  the 
prompt  and  vigorous  character  of  the  Adelantado, 
he  felt  that  his  situation  would  be  but  little  secure 
with  such  an  active  enemy  behind  him  ;  who,  on 
extricating  himself  from  present  perplexities, 
would  not  fail  to  pursue  him  to  his  proposed  para- 
dise of  Xaragua.  He  determined,  therefore,  to 
march  again  to  the  Vega,  and  endeavor  either  to 
get  possession  of  the  person  of  the  Adelantado,  or 
to  strike  some  blow,  in  his  present  crippled  state, 
that  should  disable  him  from  offering  further  mo- 
lestation. Returning,  therefore,  to  the  vicinity  of 
Fort  Conception,  he  endeavored  in  every  way,  by 
the  means  of  subtle  emissaries,  to  seduce  the  gar- 
rison to  desertion,  or  to  excite  it  to  revolt. 

The  Adelantado  dared  not  take  the  field  with 
his  forces,  having  no  confidence  in  their  fidelity. 
He  knew  that  they  listened  wistfully  to  the  emis- 
saries of  Roldan,  and  contrasted  the  meagre  fare 
and  stern  discipline  of  the  garrison,  with  the 
abundant  cheer  and  easy  misrule  that  prevailed 
among  the  rebels.  To  counteract  these  seduc- 
tions, he  relaxed  from  his  usual  strictness,  treating 
his  men  with  great  indulgence,  and  promising 
them  large  rewards.  By  these  means  he  was 
enabled  to  maintain  some  degree  of  loyalty 
amongst  his  forces,  his  service  having  the  advan- 
tage over  that  of  Roldan,  of  being  on  the  side  of 
government  and  law. 

Finding  his  attempts  to  corrupt  the  garrison  un- 
successful, and  fearing  some  sudden  sally  from 
the  vigorous  Adelantado,  Roldan  drew  off  to  a 
distance,  and  sought  by  insidious  means  to 
strengthen  his  own  power  and  weaken  that  of  the 
government.  He  asserted  equal  right  to  manage 
the  affairs  of  the  island  with  the  Adelantado,  and 
pretended  to  have  separated  from  him  on  account 
of  his  being  passionate  and  vindictive  in  the  exer- 
cise of  his  authority.  He  represented  him  as-  the 
tyrant  of  the  Spaniards,  the  oppressor  of  the  In- 
dians. For  himself,  he  assumed  the  character  of 
a  redresser  of  grievances  and  champion  of  the  in- 
jured. He  pretended  to  feel  a  patriotic  indigna- 
tion at  the  affronts  heaped  upon  Spaniards  by  a 
family  of  obscure  and  arrogant  foreigners  ;  and 
professed  to  free  the  natives  from  tributes  wrung 
from  them  by  these  rapacious  men  for  their  own 
enrichment,  and  contrary  to  the  beneficent  inten- 
tions of  the  Spanish  monarchs.  He  connected 
himself  closely  with  the  Carib  cacique  Manica- 
otex,  brother  of  the  late  Caonabo,  whose  son  and 
nephew  were  in  his  possession  as  hostages  for 
payment  of  tributes.  This  warlike  chieftain  he 
conciliated  by  presents  and  caresses,  bestowing  on 
him  the  appellation  of  brother. f  The  unhappy 
natives,  deceived  by  his  professions,  and  overjoy- 
ed at  the  idea  of  having  a  protector  in  arms  for 
their  defence,  submitted  cheerfully  to  a  thousand 
impositions,  supplying  his  followers  with  provi- 
sions in  abundance,  and  bringing  to  Roldan  all 
the  gold  they  could  collect ;  voluntarily  yielding 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  74.     Herrera,  decad.  L 
lib.  iii.  cap.  7. 

t  LasCasas,  Hist.  Ind.  lib.  i.  cap.  nS. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


153 


him  heavier  tributes  than  those  from  which  he 
pretended  to  free  them. 

The  affairs  of  the  island  were  now  in  a  lament- 
able situation.  The  Indians,  perceiving  the  dis- 
sensions among  the  white  men,  and  encouraged 
by  the  protection  of  Roldan,  began  to  throw  off 
all  allegiance  to  the  government.  The  caciques 
at  a  distance  ceased  to  send  in  their  tributes,  and 
those  who  were  in  the  vicinity  were  excused  by 
the  Adelantado,  that  by  indulgence  he  might  re- 
tain their  friendship  in  this  time  of  danger. 
Roldan' s  faction  daily  gained  strength  ;  they 
ranged  insolently  and  at  large  in  the  open  coun- 
try, and  were  supported  by  the  misguided  na- 
tives ;  while  the  Spaniards  who  remained  loyal, 
fearing  conspiracies  among  the  natives,  hau  to 
keep  under  shelter  of  the  fort,  or  in  the  strong 
houses  which  they  had  erected  in  the  villages. 
The  commanders  were  obliged  to  palliate  all 
kinds  of  slights  and  indignities,  both  from  their 
soldiers  and  from  the  Indians,  fearful  of  driving 
them  to  sedition  by  any  severity.  The  clothing 
and  munitions  of  all  kinds,  either  for  maintenance 
or  defence,  were  rapidly  wasting  away,  and  the 
want  of  all  supplies  or  tidings  from  Spain  was 
sinking  the  spirits  of  the  well-affected  into  de- 
spon  Jency.  The  Adelantado  was  shut  up  in  Fort 
Conception,  in  daily  expectation  of  being  openly 
besieged  by  Roldan,  and  was  secretly  informed 
that  means  were  taken  to  destroy  him,  should  he 
issue  from  the  walls  of  the  fortress.* 

Such  was  the  desperate  state  to  which  the  col- 
ony was  reduced,  in  consequence  of  the  long  de- 
tention of  Columbus  in  Spain,  and  the  impedi- 
ments thrown  in  the  way  of  all  his  measures  for 
the  benefit  of  the  island  by  the  delays  of  cabinets 
and  the  chicanery  of  Fonseca  and  his  satellites. 
At  this  critical  juncture,  when  faction  reigned  tri- 
umphant, and  the  colony  was  on  the  brink  of  ruin, 
tidings  were  brought  to  the  Vega  that  Pedro  Fer- 
nandez Coronal  had  arrived  at  the  port  of  San 
Domingo,  with  two  ships,  bringing  supplies  of  all 
kinds,  and  a  strong  reinforcement  of  troops.f 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SECOND   INSURRECTION  OF  GUARIONEX,  AND  HIS 
FLIGHT  TO  THE  MOUNTAINS  OF  CIGUAY. 

[I498.] 

THE  arrival  of  Coronal,  which  took  place  on 
the  third  of  February,  was  the  salvation  of  the 
colony.  The  reinforcements  of  troops,  and  of 
supplies  of  all  kinds,  strengthened  the  hands  of 
Don  Bartholomew.  The  royal  confirmation  of  his 
title  and  authority  as  Adelantado  at  once  dispelled 
all  doubts  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  his  power  ;  and 
the  tidings  that  the  admiral  was  in  high  favor  at 
court,  and  would  soon  arrive  with  a  powerful 
squadron,  struck  consternation  into  those  who  had 
entered  into  the  rebellion  on  the  presumption  of 
his  having  fallen  into  disgrace. 

The  Adelantado  no  longer  remained  mewed  up 
in  his  fortress,  but  set  out  immediately  for  San 
Domingo  with  a  part  of  his  troops,  although  a 
much  superior  rebel  force  was  at  the  village  of 
the  cacique  Guarionex,  at  a  very  short  distance. 
Roldan  followed  slowly  and  gloomily  with  his 
party,  anxious  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  these  ti- 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  119. 

f  Las  Casas.     Herrera.     Hist,  del  Almirante. 


dings,  to  make  partisans,  if  possible,  among  those 
who  had  newly  arrived,  and  to  take  advantage  of 
every  circumstance  that  might  befriend  his  rash 
and  hazardous  projects.  The  Adelantado  left 
strong  guards  on  the  passes  of  the  roads  to  pre- 
vent his  near  approach  to  San  Domingo,  but  Rol- 
dan paused  within  a  few  leagues  of  the  place. 

When  the  Adelantado  found  himself  secure  in 
San  Domingo  with  this  augmentation  of  force,  and 
the  prospect  of  a  still  greater  reinforcement  at 
hand,  his  magnanimity  prevailed  over  his  indig- 
nation, and  he  sought  by  gentle  means  to  allay 
the  popular  seditions  that  the  island  might  be  re- 
stored to  tranquillity  before  his  brother's  arrival. 
He  considered  that  the  colonists  had  suffered 
greatly  from  the  want  of  supplies  ;  that  their  dis- 
contents had  been  heightened  by  the  severities  he 
had  been  compelled  to  inflict ;  and  that  many  had 
been  led  to  rebellion  by  doubts  of  the  legitimacy  of 
his  authority.  While  therefore  he  proclaimed  the 
royal  act  sanctioning  his  title  and  powers,  he 
promised  amnesty  for  all  past  offences,  on  condi- 
tion of  immediate  return  to  allegiance.  Hearing 
that  Roldan  was  within  five  leagues  of  San  Do- 
mingo with  his  band,  he  sent  Pedro  Fernandez 
Coronal,  who  had  been  appointed  by  the  sovereigns 
alguazil  mayor  of  the  island,  to  exhort  him  to 
obedience,  promising  him  oblivion  of  the  past. 
He  trusted  that  the  representations  of  a  discreet 
and  honorable  man  like  Coronal,  who  had  been 
witness  of  the  favor  in  which  his  brother  stood 
in  Spain,  would  convince  the  rebels  of  the  hope- 
lessness of  their  course. 

Roldan,  however,  conscious  of  his  guilt,  and 
doubtful  of  the  clemency  of  Don  Bartholomew, 
feared  to  venture  within  his  power  ;  he  determin- 
ed also  to  prevent  his  followers  from  communica- 
ting with  Coronal,  lest  they  should  be  seduced 
from  him  by  the  promise  of  pardon.  When  that 
emissary,  therefore,  approached  the  encampment 
of  the  rebels,  he  was  opposed  in  a  narrow  pass  by 
a  body  of  archers,  with  their  cross-bows  levelled. 
"  Halt  there  !  traitor  !"  cried  Roldan  ;  "  had  you 
arrived  eight  days  later,  we  should  all  have  been 
united  as  one  man."* 

In  vain  Coronal  endeavored  by  fair  reasoning 
and  earnest  entreaty  to  win  this  perverse  and  tur- 
bulent man  from  his  career.  Roldan  answered 
with  hardihood  and  defiance,  professing  to  oppose 
only  the  tyranny  and  misrule  of  the  Adelantado, 
but  to  be  ready  to  submit  to  the  admiral  on  his 
arrival.  He  and  several  of  his  principal  confed- 
erates wrote  letters  to  the  same  effect  to  their 
friends  in  San  Domingo,  urging  them  to  plead 
their  cause  with  the  admiral  when  he  should  ar- 
rive, and  to  assure  him  of  their  disposition  to  ac- 
knowledge his  authority. 

When  Coronal  returned  with  accounts  of  Rol- 
dan's  contumacy,  the  Adelantado  proclaimed  him 
and  his  followers  traitors.  That  shrewd  rebel, 
however,  did  not  suffer  his  men  to  remain  within 
either  the  seduction  of  promise  or  the  terror  of 
menace  ;  he  immediately  set  out  on  his  march  for 
his  promised  land  of  Xaragua,  trusting  to  impair 
every  honest  principle  and  virtuous  tie  of  his  mis- 
guided followers  by  a  life  of  indolence  and  liber- 
tinage. 

In  the  mean  time  the  mischievous  effects  of  his 
intrigues  among  the  caciques  became  more  and 
more  apparent.  No  sooner  had  the  Adelantado 
left  Fort  Conception  than  a  conspiracy  was  form- 
ed among  the  natives  to  surprise  it.  Guarionex 
was  at  the  head  of  this  conspiracy,  moved  by  the 

*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  8. 


154 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


instigations  of  Roldan,  who  had  promised  him 
protection  and  assistance,  and  led  on  by  the  for- 
lorn hope,  in  this  distracted  state  of  the  Spanish 
forces,  of  relieving  his  paternal  domains  from  the 
intolerable  domination  of  usurping  strangers. 
Holding  secret  communications  with  his  tributary 
caciques,  it  was  concerted  that  they  should  all 
rise  simultaneously  and  massacre  the  soldiery 
quartered  in  small  parties  in  their  villages  ;  while 
he,  with  a  chosen  force,  should  surprise  the  for- 
tress of  Conception.  The  night  of  the  full  moon 
.was  fixed  upon  for  the  insurrection. 

One  of  the  principal  caciques,  however,  not  be- 
ing a  correct  observer  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  took 
up  arms  before  the  appointed  night,  and  was  re- 
pulsed by  the  soldiers  quartered  in  his  village. 
The  alarm  was  given,  and  the  Spaniards  were  all 
put  on  the  alert.  The  cacique  fled  to  Guarionex 
for  protection,  but  the  chieftain,  enraged  at  his 
fatal  blunder,  put  him  to  death  upon  the  spot. 

No  sooner  did  the  Adelantado  hear  of  this  fresh 
conspiracy  than  he  put  himself  on  the  march  for 
the  Vega  with  a  strong  body  of  men.  Guarionex 
did  not  await  his  coming.  He  saw  that  every  at- 
tempt was  fruitless  to  shake  off  these  strangers, 
who  had  settled  like  a  curse  upon  his  territories. 
He  had  found  their  very  friendship  withering  and 
destructive,  and  he  now  dreaded  their  vengeance. 
Abandoning,  therefore,  his  rightful  domain,  the 
once  happy  Vega,  he  fled  with  his  family  and  a 
small  band  of  faithful  followers  to  the  mountains 
of  Ciguay.  This  is  a  lofty  chain,  extending  along 
the  north  side  of  the  island,  between  the  Vega  and 
the  sea.  The  inhabitants  were  the  most  robust 
and  hardy  tribe  of  the  island,  and  far  more 
formidable  than  the  mild  inhabitants  of  the 
plains.  It  was  a  part  of  this  tribe  which  display- 
ed hostility  to  the  Spaniards  in  the  course  of  the 
first  voyage  of  Columbus,  and  in  a  skirmish  with 
them  in  the  Gulf  of  Samana  the  first  drop  of  native 
blood  had  been  shed  in  the  New  World.  The 
reader  may  remember  the  frank  and  confiding 
conduct  of  these  people  the  day  after  the  skirmish, 
and  the  intrepid  faith  with  which  their  cacique 
trusted  himself  on  board  of  the  caravel  of  the  ad- 
miral, and  in  the  power  of  the  Spaniards.  It  was 
to  this  same  cacique,  named  Mayobanex,  that  the 
fugitive  chieftain  of  the  Vega  now  applied  for  ref- 
uge. He  came  to  his  residence  at  an  Indian  town 
near  Cape  Cabron,  about  forty  leagues  east  of 
Isabella,  and  implored  shelter  for  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  his  handful  of  loyal  followers.  The  no- 
ble-minded cacique  of  the  mountains  received  him 
with  open  arms.  He  not  only  gave  an  asylum 
to  his  family,  but  engaged  to  stand  by  him  in  his 
distress,  to  defend  his  cause,  and  share  his  des- 
perate fortunes.*  Men  in  civilized  life  learn  mag- 
nanimity from  precept,  but  their  most  generous 
actions  are  often  rivalled  by  the  deeds  of  untutored 
savages,  who  act  only  from  natural  impulse. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

CAMPAIGN  OF  THE  ADELANTADO  IN  THE  MOUN- 
TAINS  OF  CIGUAY. 

[1498.] 

AIDED  by  his  mountain  ally,  and  by  bands  of 
hardy  Ciguayans,  Guarionex  made  several  de- 
scents into  the  plain,  cutting  off  straggling  parties 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  cap.  121,  MS.      Peter  Mar- 
tyr, decad.  i.  cap.  5. 


of  the  Spaniards,  laying  waste  the  villages  of  the 
natives  which  continued  in  allegiance  to  them, 
and  destroying  the  fruits  of  the  earth.  The  Ade- 
lantado put  a  speedy  stop  to  these  molestations  ; 
but  he  determined  to  root  out  so  formidable  an 
adversary  from  the  neighborhood.  Shrinking 
from  no  danger  nor  fatigue,  and  leaving  nothing 
to  be  done  by  others  which  he  could  do  himself, 
he  set  forth  in  the  spring  with  a  band  of  ninety 
men,  a  few  cavalry,  and  a  body  of  Indians,  to 
penetrate  the  Ciguay  mountains. 

After  passing  a  steep  defile,  rendered  almost 
impracticable  for  troops  by  rugged  rocks  and  ex- 
uberant vegetation,  he  descended  into  a  beautiful 
valley  or  plain,  extending  along  the  coast,  and 
embraced  by  arms  of  the  mountains  which  ap- 
proached the  sea.  His  advance  into  the  country 
was  watched  by  the  keen  eyes  of  Indian  scouts, 
who  lurked  among  rocks  and  thickets.  As  the 
Spaniards  were  seeking  the  ford  of  a  river  at  the 
entrance  of  the  plain,  two  of  these  spies  darted 
from  among  the  bushes  on  its  bank.  One  flung 
himself  headlong  into  the  water,  and  swimming 
across  the  mouth  of  the  river  escaped  ;  the  other 
being  taken,  gave  information  that  six  thousand 
Indians  lay  in  ambush  on  the  opposite  shore, 
waiting  to  attack  them  as  they  crossed. 

The  Adelantado  advanced  with  caution,  and 
finding  a  shallow  place,  entered  the  river  with  his 
troops.  They  were  scarcely  midway  in  the  stream 
when  the  savages,  hideously  painted,  and  looking 
more  like  fiends  than  men,  burst  from  their  con- 
cealment. The  forest  rang  with  their  yells  and 
howlings.  They  discharged  a  shower  of  arrows 
and  lances,  by  which,  notwithstanding  the  protec- 
tion of  their  targets,  many  of  the  Spaniards  were 
wounded.  The  Adelantado,  however,  forced  his 
way  across  the  river,  and  the  Indians  took  to 
flight.  Some  were  killed,  but  their  swiftness  of 
foot,  their  knowledge  of  the  forest,  and  their  dex- 
terity in  winding  through  the  most  tangled  thick- 
ets, enabled  the  greater  number  to  elude  the  pur- 
suit of  the  Spaniards,  who  were  incumbered  with 
armor,  targets,  cross-bows,  and  lances. 

By  the  advice  of  one  of  his  Indian  guides,  the 
Adelantado  pressed  forward  along  the  valley  to 
reach  the  residence  of  Mayobanex,  at  Cabron.  In 
the  way  he  had  several  skirmishes  with  the  na- 
tives, who  would  suddenly  rush  forth  with  furious 
war-cries  from  ambuscades  among  the  bushes, 
discharge  their  weapons,  and  take  refuge  again  in 
the  fastnesses  of  their  rocks  and  forests,  inacces- 
sible to  the  Spaniards. 

Having  taken  several  prisoners,  the  Adelantado 
sent  one  accompanied  by  an  Indian  of  a  friendly 
tribe,  as  a  messenger  to  Mayobanex,  demanding 
the  surrender  of  Guarionex  ;  promising  friendship 
and  protection  in  case  of  compliance,  but  threaten- 
ing, in  case  of  refusal,  to  lay  waste  his  territory 
with  fire  and  sword.  The  cacique  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  messenger  :  "  Tell  the  Spaniards," 
said  he  in  reply,  "  that  they  are  bad  men,  cruel 
and  tyrannical  ;  usurpers  of  the  territories  of 
others,  and  shedders  of  innocent  blood.  I  desire 
not  the  friendship  of  such  men  ;  Guarionex  is  a 
good  man,  he  is  my  friend,  he  is  my  guest,  he  has 
fled  to  me  for  refuge,  I  have  promised  to  protect 
him,  and  I  will  keep  my  word." 

This  magnanimous  reply,  or  rather  defiance, 
convinced  the  Adelantado  that  nothing  was  to  be 
gained  by  friendly  overtures.  When  severity  was 
required,  he  could  be  a  stern  soldier.  He  imme- 
diately ordered  the  village  in  which  he  had  been 
quartered,  and  several  others  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  be  set  on  fire.  He  then  sent  further 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


155 


messengers  to  Mayobanex,  warning  him  that,  un- 
less he  delivered  up  the  fugitive  cacique,  his  whole 
dominions  should  be  'laid  waste  in  like  manner  ; 
and  he  would  see  nothing  in  every  direction  but 
the  smoke  and  flames  of  burning  villages. 
Alarmed  at  this  impending  destruction,  the  Ci- 
guayans  surrounded  their  chieftain  with  clamor- 
ous lamentations,  cursing  the  day  that  Guarionex 
had  taken  refuge  among  them,  and  urging  that  he 
should  be  given  up  for  the  salvation  of  the  coun- 
try. The  generous  cacique  was  inflexible.  He 
reminded  them  of  the  many  virtues  of  Guarionex, 
and  the  sacred  claims  he  had  on  their  hospitality, 
and  declared  he  would  abide  all  evils  rather  than 
it  should  ever  be  said  Mayobanex  had  betrayed 
his  guest. 

The  people  retired  with  sorrowful  hearts,  and 
the  chieftain,  summoning  Guarionex  into  his  pres- 
ence, again  pledged  his  word  to  protect  him, 
though  it  should  cost  him  his  dominions.  He 
sent  no  reply  to  the  Adelantado,  and  lest  further 
messages  might  tempt  the  fidelity  of  his  subjects, 
he  placed  men  in  ambush,  with  orders  to  slay  any 
messenger  who  might  approach.  They  had  not 
lain  in  wait  long  before  they  beheld  two  men  ad- 
vancing through  the  forest,  one  of  whom  was  a 
captive  Ciguayan,  and  the  oiher  an  Indian  ally  of 
the  Spaniards.  They  were  both  instantly  slain. 
The  Adelantado  was  following  at  no  great  dis- 
tance, with  only  ten  foot  soldiers  and  four  horse- 
men. When  he  found  his  messengers  lying  dead 
in  the  forest  path,  transfixed  with  arrows,  he  was 
greatly  exasperated,  and  resolved  to  deal  rigor- 
ously with  this  obstinate  tribe.  He  advanced, 
therefore,  with  all  his  force  to  Cabron,  where 
Mayobanex  and  his  army  were  quartered.  At  his 
approach  the  inferior  caciques  and  their  adher- 
ents fled,  overcome  by  terror  of  the  Spaniards. 
Finding  himself  thus  deserted,  Mayobanex  took 
refuge  with  his  family  in  a  secret  part  of  the 
mountains.  Several  of  the  Ciguayans  sought  for 
Guarionex,  to  kill  him  or  deliver  him  up  as  a  pro- 
pitiatory offering,  but  he  fled  to  the  heights,  where 
he  wandered  about  alone,  in  the  most  savage  and 
desolate  places. 

The  density  of  the  forests  and  the  ruggedness  of 
the  mountains  rendered  this  expedition  excessively 
painful  and  laborious,  and  protracted  it  far  beyond 
the  time  that  the  Adelantado  had  contemplated. 
His  men  suffered,  not  merely  from  fatigue,  but 
hunger.  The  natives  had  all  fled  to  the  moun- 
tains ;  their  villages  remained  empty  and  deso- 
late ;  all  the  provisions  of  the  Spaniards  consisted 
of  cassava  bread,  and  such  roots  and  herbs  as 
their  Indian  allies  could  gather  for  them,  with 
now  and  thenafewutias  taken  with  the  assistance 
of  their  clogs.  They  slept  almost  always  on  the 
ground,  in  the  open  air,  under  the  trees,  exposed 
to  the  heavy  dew  which  falls  in  this  climate.  For 
three  months  they  were  thus  ranging  the  moun- 
tains, until  almost  worn  out  with  toil  and  hard 
fare.  Many  of  them  had  farms  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Fort  Conception,  which  required  their  at- 
tention ;  they,  therefore,  entreated  permission, 
since  the  Indians  were  terrified  and  dispersed,  to 
return  to  their  abodes  in  the  Vega. 

The  Adelantado  granted  many  of  them  pass- 
ports, and  an  allowance  out  of  the  scanty  stock  of 
bread  which  remained.  Retaining  only  thirty 
men,  he  resolved  with  these  to  search  every  den 
and  cavern  of  the  mountains  until  he  should  find 
the  two  caciques.  It  was  difficult,  however,  to 
trace  them  in  such  a  wilderness.  There  was  no  one 
to  give  a  clue  to  their  retreat,  for  the  whole  coun- 
try was  abandoned.  There  were  the  habitations 


of  men,  but  not  a  human  being  to  be  seen  ;  or  if, 
by  chance,  they  caught  some  wretched  Indian 
stealing  forth  from  the  mountains  in  quest  ot  food, 
he  always  professed  utter  ignorance  of  the  hid- 
ing-place of  the  caciques. 

It  happened,  one  day,  however,  that  several 
Spaniards,  while  hunting  utias,  captured  two  of 
the  followers  of  Mayobanex,  who  were  on  their 
way  to  a  distant  village  in  search  of  bread.  They 
were  taken  to  the  Adelantado,  who  compelled 
them  to  betray  the  place  of  concealment  of  their 
chieftain,  and  to  act  as  guides.  Twelve  Span- 
iards volunteered  to  go  in  quest  of  him.  Strip- 
ping themselves  naked,  staining  and  painting  their 
bodies  so  as  to  look  like  Indians,  and  covering 
their  swords  with  palm-leaves,  they  were  conduct- 
ed by  the  guides  to  the  retreat  of  the  unfortunate 
Mayobanex.  They  came  secretly  upon  him,  and 
found  him  surrounded  by  his  wife  and  children 
and  a  few  of  his  household,  totally  unsuspicious 
of  danger.  Drawing  their  swords,  the  Spaniards 
rushed  upon  them  and  made  them  all  prisoners. 
When  they  were  brought  to  the  Adelantado,  he 
gave  up  all  further  search  after  Guarionex,  and 
returned  to  Fort  Conception. 

Among  the  prisoners  thus  taken  was  the  sister  of 
Mayobanen.  She  was  the  wife  of  another  cacique 
of  the  mountains,  whose  territories  had  never  yet 
been  visited  by  the  Spaniards  ;  and  she  was  re- 
puted to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful  women  of 
the  island.  Tenderly  attached  to  her  brother, 
she  had  abandoned  the  security  of  her  own  domin- 
ions, and  had  followed  him  among  rocks  and 
precipices,  participating  in  all  his  hardships,  and 
comforting  him  with  a  woman's  sympathy  and 
kindness.  When  her  husband  heard  of  her  cap- 
tivity, he  hastened  to  the  Adelantado  and  offered 
to  submit  himself  and  all  his  possessions  to  his 
sway,  if  his  wife  might  be  restored  to  him.  The 
Adelantado  accepted  his  offer  of  allegiance,  and 
released  his  wife  and  several  of  his  subjects  who 
had  been  captured.  The  cacique,  faithful  to  his 
word,  became  a  firm  and  valuable  ally  of  the 
Spaniards,  cultivating  large  tracts  of  land,  and 
supplying  them  with  great  quantities  of  bread  and 
other  provisions. 

Kindness  appears  never  to  have  been  lost  upon 
the  people  of  this  island.  When  this  act  of  clem- 
ency reached  the  Ciguayans,  they  came  in  mul- 
titudes to  the  fortress,  bringing  presents  of  various 
kinds,  promising  allegiance,  and  imploring  the 
release  of  Mayobanex  and  his  family.  The  Ade- 
lantado granted  their  prayers  in  part,  releasing 
the  wife  and  household  of  the  cacique,  but  still  de- 
taining him  prisoner  to  insure  the  fidelity  of  his 
subjects. 

In  the  mean  time  the  unfortunate  Guarionex, 
who  had  been  hiding  in  the  wildest  parts  of  the 
mountains,  was  driven  by  hunger  to  venture  down 
occasionally  into  the  plain  in  quest  of  food.  The 
Ciguayans  looking  upon  him  as  the  cause  of  their 
misfortunes,  and  perhaps  hoping  by  his  sacrifice 
to  procure  the  release  of  their  chieftain,  betrayed 
his  haunts  to  the  Adelantado.  A  party  was  dis- 
patched to  secure  him.  They  lay  in  wait  in  the 
path  by  which  he  usually  returned  to  the  moun- 
tains. As  the  unhappy  cacique,  after  one  of  his 
famished  excursions,  was  returning  to  his  den 
among  the  cliffs,  he  was  surprised  by  the  lurking 
Spaniards,  and  brought  in  chains  to  Fort  Concep- 
tion. After  his  repeated  insurrections,  and  the 
extraordinary  zeal  and  perseverance  displayed  in 
his  pursuit,  Guarionex  expected  nothing  less  than 
death  from  the  vengeance  of  the  Adelantado. 
Don  Bartholomew,  however,  though  stern  in  his 


156 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


policy,  was  neither  vindictive  nor  cruel  in  his  na- 
ture. He  considered  the  tranquillity  of  the  Vega 
sufficiently  secured  by  the  captivity  of  the  ca- 
cique ;  and  ordered  him  to  be  detained  a  prisoner 
and  hostage  in  the  fortress.  The  Indian  hostili- 
ties in  this  important  part  of  the  island  being  thus 
brought  to  a  conclusion,  and  precautions  taken  to 
prevent  their  recurrence,  Don  Bartholomew  re- 
turned to  the  city  of  San  Domingo,  where,  shortly 
after  his  arrival,  he  had  the  happiness  of  receiving 
his  brother,  the  admiral,  after  nearly  two  years 
and  six  months'  absence.* 

Such  was  the  active,  intrepid,  and  sagacious, 
but  turbulent  and  disastrous  administration  of  the 
Adelantado,  in  which  we  find  evidences  of  the 
great  capacity,  the  mental  and  bodily  vigor  of  this 
self-formed  and  almost  self-taught  man.  He 
united,  in  a  singular  degree,  the  sailor,  the  sol- 
dier, and  the  legislator.  Like  his  brother,  the 
admiral,  his  mind  and  manners  rose  immediately 
to  the  level  of  his  situation,  showing  no  arrogance 
nor  ostentation,  and  exercising  the  sway  of  sudden 


and  extraordinary  power,  with  the  sobriety  and 
moderation  of  one  who  had  been  born  to  rule.  He 
has  been  accused  of  severity  in  his  government, 
but  no  instance  appears  of  a  cruel  or  wanton 
abuse  of  authority.  If  he  was  stern  toward  the 
factious  Spaniards,  he  was  just  ;  the  disasters  of 
his  administration  were  not  produced  by  his  own 
rigor,  but  by  the  perverse  passions  of  others,  which 
called  for  its  exercise  ;  and  the  admiral,  who  had 
more  suavity  of  manner  and  benevolence  of  heart, 
was  not  more  fortunate  in  conciliating  the  good 
will  and  insuring  the  obedience  of  the  colonists. 
The  merits  of  Don  Bartholomew  do  not  appear  to 
have  been  sufficiently  appreciated  by  the  world. 
His  portrait  has  been  suffered  to  remain  too  much 
in  the  shade  ;  it  is  worthy  of  being  brought  into 
the  light,  as  a  companion  to  that  of  his  illustrious 
brother.  Less  amiable  and  engaging,  perhaps, 
in  its  lineaments,  and  less  characterized  by  mag- 
nanimity, its  traits  are  nevertheless  bold,  gener- 
ous, and  heroic,  and  stamped  with  iron  firm- 
ness. 


BOOK  XII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CONFUSION    IN    THE    ISLAND — PROCEEDINGS     OF 
THE  REBELS   AT   XARAGUA. 

[August  30,  1498.] 

.  COLUMBUS  arrived  at  San  Domingo,  wearied  by 
a  long  and  arduous  voyage,  and  worn  down  by  in- 
firmities ;  both  mind  and  body  craved  repose,  but 
from  the  time  he  first  entered  into  public  life  he 
had  been  doomed  never  again  to  taste  the  sweets 
of  tranquillity.  The  island  of  Hispaniola,  the  fa- 
vorite child,  as  it  were,  of  his  hopes,  was  destined 
to  involve  him  in  perpetual  troubles,  to  fetter  his 
fortunes,  impede  his  enterprises,  and  imbitter  the 
conclusion  of  his  life.  What  a  scene  of  poverty 
and  suffering  had  this  opulent  and  lovely  island 
been  rendered  by  the  bad  passions  of  a  few  des- 
picable men  !  The  wars  with  the  natives  and  the 
seditions  among  the  colonists  had  put  a  stop  to 
the  labors  of  the  mines,  and  all  hopes  of  wealth 
were  at  an  end.  The  horrors  of  famine  had  suc- 
ceeded to  those  of  war.  The  cultivation  of  the 
earth  had  been  generally  neglected  ;  several  of 
the  provinces  had  been  desolated  during  the  late 
troubles  ;  a  great  part  of  the  Indians  had  fled  to 
the  mountains,  and  those  who  remained  had  lost 
all  heart  to  labor,  seeing  the  produce  of  their  toils 
liable  to  be  wrested  from  them  by  ruthless  stran- 
gers. It  is  true,  the  Vega  was  once  more  tran- 
quil, but  it  was  a  desolate  tranquillity.  That 
beautiful  region,  which  the  Spaniards  but  four 
years  before  had  found  so  populous  and  happy, 
seeming  to  inclose  in  its  luxuriant  bosom  all  the 
sweets  of  nature,  and  to  exclude  all  the  cares  and 
sorrows  of  the  world,  was  now  a  scene  of  wretch- 
edness and  repining.  Many  of  those  Indian  towns, 
where  the  Spaniards  had  been  detained  by  genial 
hospitality,  and  almost  worshipped  as  beneficent 
deities,  were  now  silent  and  deserted.  Some  of 


*  The  particulars  of  this  chapter  are  chiefly  from  P. 
Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  vi. ;  the  manuscript  history  of 
Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  121  ;  and  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind., 
decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  8,  9. 


their  late  inhabitants  were  lurking  among  rocks 
and  caverns ;  some  were  reduced  to  slavery ; 
many  had  perished  with  hunger,  and  many  had 
fallen  by  the  sword.  It  seems  almost  incredible, 
that  so  small  a  number  of  men,  restrained  too  by 
well-meaning  governors,  could  in  so  short  a  space 
of  time  have  produced  such  wide-spreading  mis- 
eries. But  the  principles  of  evil  have  a  fatal  ac- 
tivity. With  every  exertion,  the  best  of  men  can 
do  but  a  moderate  amount  of  good  ;  but  it  seems 
in  the  power  of  the  most  contemptible  individual 
to  do  incalculable  mischief. 

The  evil  passions  of  the  white  men  which  had 
inflicted  such  calamities  upon  this  innocent  peo- 
ple, had  insured  likewise  a  merited  return  of  suf- 
fering tq  themselves.  In  no  part  was  this  more 
truly  exemplified  than  among  the  inhabitants  of 
Isabella,  the  most  idle,  factious,  and  dissolute  of 
the  island.  The  public  works  were  unfinished  ; 
the  gardens  and  fields  they  had  begun  to  cultivate 
lay  neglected  ;  they  had  driven  the  natives  from 
their  vicinity  by  extortion  and  cruelty,  and  had 
rendered  the  country  around  them  a  solitary  wil- 
derness. .  Too  idle  to  labor,  and  destitute  of  any 
resources  with  which  to  occupy  their  indolence, 
they  quarrelled  among  themselves,  mutinied 
against  their  rulers,  and  wasted  their  time  in  alter- 
nate riot  and  despondency.  Many  of  the  soldiery 
quartered  about  the  island  had  suffered  from  ill 
health  during  the  late  troubles,  being  shut  up  in 
Indian  villages  where  they  could  take  no  exercise, 
and  obliged  to  subsist  on  food  to  which  they  could 
not  accustom  themselves.  Those  actively  em- 
ployed had  been  worn  down  by  hard  service,  long 
marches,  and  scanty  food.  Many  of  them  were 
broken  in  constitution,  and  many  had  perished  by 
disease.  There  was  a  universal  desire  to  leave 
the  island,  and  escape  from  miseries  created  by 
themselves.  Yet  this  was  the  favored  and  fruitful 
land  to  which  the  eyes  of  philosophers  and  poets 
in  Europe  were  fondly  turned,  as  realizing  the 
pictures  of  the  golden  age.  So  true  it  is  that  the 
fairest  Elysium  fancy  ever  devised  would  be  turn- 
ed into  a  purgatory  by  the  passions  of  bad  men  ! 

One  of  the  first  measures  of  Columbus  on  his 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


157 


arrival  was  to  issue  a  proclamation  approving  of 
all  the  measures  of  the  Adelantado,  and  denounc- 
ing Roldan  and  his  associates.  That  turbulent 
man  had  taken  possession  of  Xaragua,  and  been 
kindly  received  by  the  natives.  He  had  permitted 
his  followers  to  lead  an  idle  and  licentious  life 
among  its  beautiful  scenes,  making  the  surround- 
ing country  and  its  inhabitants  subservient  to  their 
pleasures  and  their  passions.  An  event  happened 
previous  to  their  knowledge  of  the  arrival  of  Co- 
lumbus, which  threw  supplies  into  their  hands 
and  strengthened  their  power.  As  they  were  one 
day  toitering  on  the  sea-shore,  they  beheld  three 
caravels  at  a  distance,  the  sight  of  which,  in  this 
unfrequented  part  of  the  ocean,  filled  them  with 
wonder  and  alarm.  The  ships  approached  the  land 
and  came  to  anchor.  The  rebels  apprehended  at 
lirst  they  were  vessels  dispatched  in  pursuit  of 
them.  Roldan,  however,  who  was  sagacious  as 
he  was  bold,  surmised  them  to  be  ships  which 
had  wandered  from  their  course,  and  been  borne 
to  the  westward  by  the  currents,  and  that  they 
must  be  ignorant  of  the  recent  occurrences  of  the 
island.  Enjoining  secrecy  on  his  men  he  went  on 
board,  pretending  to  be  stationed  in  that  neigh- 
borhood for  the  purpose  of  keeping  the  natives  in 
obedience,  and  collecting  tribute.  His  conjec- 
tures as  to  the  vessels  were  correct.  They  were, 
in  fact,  the  three  caravels  detached  by  Columbus 
from  his  squadron  at  the  Canary  Islands,  to  bring 
supplies  to  the  colonies.  The  captains,  ignorant 
of  the  strength  of  the  currents,  which  set  through 
the  Caribbean  Sea,  had  been  carried  west  far  be- 
yond their  reckoning  until  they  had  wandered  to 
the  coast  of  Xaragua. 

Roldan  kept  his  secret  closely  for  three  days. 
Being  considered  a  man  in  important  trust  and 
authority,  the  captains  did  not  hesitate  to  grant 
all  his  requests  for  supplies.  He  procured  swords, 
lances,  cross-bows,  and  various  military  stores  ; 
while  his  men  dispersed  through  the  three  vessels, 
were  busy  among  the  crews,  secretly  making 
partisans,  representing  the  hard  life  of  the  colo- 
nists at  San  Domingo,  and  the  ease  and  revelry  in 
which  they  passed  their  time  at  Xaragua.  Many 
of  the  crews  had  been  shipped  in  compliance  with 
the  admiral's  ill-judged  proposition,  to  commute 
criminal  punishments  into  transportation  to  the 
colony.  They  were  vagabonds,  the  refuse  of  Span- 
ish towns,  and  culprits  from  Spanish  dungeons  ; 
the  very  men,  therefore,  to  be  wrought  upon  by 
such  representations,  and  they  promised  to  desert 
on  the  first  opportunity  and  join  the 'rebels. 

It  was  not  until  the  third  day  that  Alonzo  San- 
chez de  Carvajal,  the  most  intelligent  of  the  three 
captains,  discovered  the  real  character  of  the  guests 
he  had  admitted  so  freely  on  board  of  his  vessels. 
It  was  then  too  late  ;  the  mischief  was  effected. 
He  and  his  fellow-captains  had  many  earnest 
conversations  with  Roldan,  endeavoring  to  per- 
suade him  from  his  dangerous  opposition  to  the 
regular  authority.  The  certainty  that  Columbus 
was  actually  on  his  way  to  the  island,  with  addi- 
tional forces  and  augmented  authority,  had  op- 
erated strongly  on  his  mind.  He  had,  as  has  al- 
ready been  intimated,  prepared  his  friends  at  San 
Domingo  to  plead  his  cause  with  the  admiral,  as- 
suring him  that  he  had  only  acted  in  opposition  to 
the  injustice  and  oppression  of  the  Adelantado, 
but  was  ready  to  submit  to  Columbus  on  his  arri- 
val. Carvajal  perceived  that  the  resolution  of 
Roldan  and  of  several  of  his  principal  confeder- 
ates was  shaken,  and  flattered  himself  that,  if  he 
were  to  remain  some  little  time  among  the  rebels, 
he  might  succeed  in  drawing  them  back  to  their 


duty.  Contrary  winds  rendered  it  impossible  for 
the  ships  to  work  up  against  the  currents  to  San 
Domingo.  It  was  arranged  among  the  captains, 
therefore,  that  a  large  number  of  the  people  on 
board,  artificers  and  others  most  important  to  the 
service  of  the  colony,  should  proceed  to  the  settle- 
ment by  land.  They  were  to  be  conducted  by 
Juan  Antonio  Colombo,  captain  of  one  of  the  car- 
avels, a  relative  of  the  admiral,  and  zealously  de- 
voted to  his  interests.  Arana  was  to  proceed  with 
the  ships,  when  the  wind  would  permit,  and  Car- 
vajal volunteered  to  remain  on  shore  to  endeavor 
to  bring  the  rebels  to  their  allegiance. 

On  the  following  morning  Juan  Antonio  Colom- 
bo landed  with  forty  men  well  armed  with  cross- 
bows, swords,  and  lances,  but  was  astonished  to 
find  himself  suddenly  deserted  by  all  his  party  ex- 
cepting eight.  The  deserters  went  off  to  the  reb- 
els, who  received  with  exultation  this  important 
reinforcement  of  kindred  spirits.  Juan  Antonio  en- 
deavored in  vain  by  remonstrances  and  threats  to 
bring  them  back  to  their  duty.  They  were  most 
of  them  convicted  culprits,  accustomed  to  detest 
order,  and  to  set  law  at  defiance.  It  was  equally 
in  vain  that  he  appealed  to  Roldan,  and  reminded 
him  of  his  professions  of  loyalty  to  the  government. 
The  latter  replied  that  he  had  no  means  of  enforc- 
ing obedience  ;  his  was  a  mere  "  Monastery  of 
Observation,"  where  every  one  was  at  liberty  to 
adopt  the  habit  of  the  order.  Such  was  the  first  of 
a  long  train  of  evils,  which  sprang  from  this  most 
ill-judged  expedient  of  peopling  a  colony  with 
criminals,  and  thus  mingling  vice  and  villainy 
with  the  fountain-head  of  its  population. 

Juan  Antonio,  grieved  and  disconcerted,  re- 
turned on  board  with  the  few  who  remained  faith- 
ful. Fearing  further  desertions,  the  two  captains 
immediately  put  to  sea,  leaving  Carvajal  on  shore 
to  prosecute  his  attempt  at  reforming  the  rebels. 
It  was  not  without  great  difficulty  and  delay  that 
the  vessels  reached  San  Domingo  ;  the  ship  of 
Carvajal  having  struck  on  a  sand-bank,  and  sus- 
tained great  injury.  By  the  time  of  their  arrival, 
the  greater  part  of  the  provisions  with  which  they 
had  been  freighted  was  either  exhausted  or  dam- 
aged. Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Carvajal  arrived  shortly 
afterward  by  land,  having  been  escorted  to  within 
six  leagues  of  the  place  by  several  of  the  insurgents, 
to  protect  him  from  the  Indians.  He  failed  in  his 
attempt  to  persuade  the  band  to  immediate  sub- 
mission ;  but  Roldan  had  promised  that  the  mo- 
ment he  heard  of  the  arrival  of  Columbus,  he 
would  repair  to  the  neighborhood  of  San  Do- 
mingo, to  be  at  hand  to  state  his  grievances,  and 
the  reasons  of  his  past  conduct,  and  to  enter  into 
a  negotiation  for  the  adjustment  of  all  differences. 
Carvajal  brought  a  letter  from  him  to  the  admiral 
to  the  same  purport,  and  expressed  a  confident 
opinion,  from  all  that  he  observed  of  the  rebels, 
that  they  might  easily  be  brought  back  to  their 
allegiance  by  an  assurance  of  amnesty.* 


CHAPTER  II. 

« 

NEGOTIATION  OF  THE  ADMIRAL  WITH  THE -REBELS 
— DEPARTURE    OF  SHIPS  FOR  SPAIN. 

[1498-] 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  favorable  representa- 
tions of  Carvajal,  Columbus  was  greatly  troubled 
by  the  late  event  at  Xaragua.  He  saw  that  the 

*  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  149.  150.  Herrera,  decad. 
i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  12.  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  77. 


158 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


insolence  of  the  rebels  and  their  confidence  in 
their  strength  must  be  greatly  increased  by  the 
accession  of  such  a  large  number  of  well-armed 
and  desperate  confederates.  The  proposition  of 
Roldan  to  approach  to  the  neighborhood  of  San 
Domingo  startled  him.  He  doubted  the  sincerity 
of  his  professions,  and  apprehended  great  evils 
and  dangers  from  so  artful,  daring,  and  turbulent 
a  leader,  with  a  rash  and  devoted  crew  at  his 
command.  The  example  of  this  lawless  horde, 
roving  at  large  about  the  island,  and  living  in 
loose  revel  and  open  profligacy,  could  not  but 
have  a  dangerous  effect  upon  the  colonists  newly 
arrived  ;  and  when  they  were  close  at  hand,  to 
carry  on  secret  intrigues,  and  to  hold  out  a  camp 
of  refuge  to  all  malcontents,  the  loyalty  of  the 
whole  colony  might  be  sapped  and  undermined. 

Some  measures  were  immediately  necessary 
to  fortify  the  fidelity  of  the  people  against  such  se- 
ductions. He  was  aware  of  a  vehement  desire 
among  many  to  return  to  Spain  ;  and  of  an  asser- 
tion industriously  propagated  by  the  seditious, 
that  he  and  his  brothers  wished  to  detain  the  col- 
onists on  the  island  through  motives  of  self-inter- 
est. On  the  1 2th  of  September,  therefore,  he  is- 
sued a  proclamation,  offering  free  passage  and 
provisions  for  the  voyage  to  all  who  wished  to  re- 
turn to  Spain,  in  five  vessels  nearly  ready  to  put 
to  sea.  He  hoped  by  this  means  to  relieve  the 
colony  from  the  idle  and  disaffected  ;  to  weaken 
the  party  of  Roldan,  and  to  retain  none  about  him 
but  such  as  were  sound-hearted  and  well-disposed. 

He  wrote  at  the  same  time  to  Miguel  Ballester, 
the  stanch  and  well-tried  veteran  who  commanded 
the  fortress  of  Conception,  advising  him  to  be 
upon  his  guard,  as  the  rebels  were  coming  into 
his  neighborhood.  He  empowered  him  also  to 
have  an  interview  with  Roldan  ;  to  offer  him  par- 
don and  oblivion  of  the  past,  on  condition  of  his 
immediate  return  to  duty  ;  and  to  invite  him  to 
repair  to  San  Domingo  to  have  an  interview  with 
the  admiral  under  a  solemn,  and,  if  required,  a 
written  assurance  from  the  latter,  of  personal 
safety.  Columbus  was  sincere  in  his  intentions. 
He  was  of  a  benevolent  and  placable  disposition, 
and  singularly  free  from  all  vindictive  feeling 
toward  the  many  worthless  and  wicked  men  who 
heaped  sorrow  on  his  head. 

Ballester  had  scarcely  received  this  letter  when 
the  rebels  began  to  arrive  at  the  village  of  Bonao. 
This  was  situated  in  a  beautiful  valley,  or  Vega, 
bearing  the  same  name,  about  ten  leagues  from 
Fort  Conception,  and  about  twenty  from  San 
Domingo,  in  a  well-peopled  and  abundant  coun- 
try. Here  Pedro  Requelme,  one  of  the  ringlead- 
ers of  the  sedition,  had  large  possessions,  and  his 
residence  became  the  headquarters  of  the  rebels. 
Adrian  de  Moxica,  a  man  of  turbulent  and  mis- 
chievous character,  brought  his  detachment  of 
dissolute  ruffians  to  this  place  of  rendezvous. 
Roldan  and  others  of  the  conspirators  drew  to- 
gether there  by  different  routes. 

No  sooner  did  the  veteran  Miguel  Ballester 
hear  of  the  arrival  of  Roldan  than  he  set  forth  to 
meet  him.  Ballester  was  a  venerable  man,  gray- 
headed,  and  of  a  soldier-like  demeanor.  Loyal, 
frank,  and  virtuous,  of  a  serious  disposition,  and 
great  simplicity  of  heart,  he  was  well  chosen  as  a 
mediator  with  rash  and  profligate  men  ;  being 
calculated  to  calm  their  passions  by  his  sobriety  ; 
to  disarm  their  petulance  by  his  age  ;  to  win  their 
confidence  by  his  artless  probity  ;  and  to  awe 
their  licentiousness  by  his  spotless  virtue.* 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  153. 


Ballester  found  Roldan  in  company  with  Pedro 
Requelrne,  Pedro  de  Gamez,  and  Adrian  de  Mox- 
ica, three  of  his  principal  confederates.  Flushed 
with  a  confidence  of  his  present  strength,  Roldan 
treated  the  proffered  pardon  with  contempt,  de- 
claring that  he  did  not  come  there  to  treat  of 
peace,  but  to  demand  the  release  of  certain  In- 
dians captured  unjustifiably,  and  about  to  be 
shipped  to  Spain  as  slaves,  notwithstanding  that  he, 
in  his  capacity  of  alcalde  mayor,  had  pledged  his 
word  for  their  protection.  He  declared  that,  un- 
til these  Indians  were  given  up,  he  would  listen  to 
no  terms  of  compact  ;  throwing  out  an  insolent 
intimation  at  the  same  time,  that  he  held  the  ad- 
miral and  his  fortunes  in  his  hand,  to  make  and 
mar  them  as  he  pleased. 

The  Indians  here  alluded  to  were  certain  sub- 
jects of  Guarionex,  who  had  been  incited  by  Rol- 
dan to  resist  the  exaction  of  tribute,  and  who,  un- 
der the  sanction  of  his  supposed  authority,  had 
engaged  in  the  insurrections  of  the  Vega.  Rol- 
dan knew  that  the  enslavement  of  the  Indians  was 
an  unpopular  feature  in  the  government  of  the 
island,  especially  with  the  queen  ;  and  the  artful 
character  of  this  man  is  evinced  in  his  giving  his 
opposition  to  Columbus  the  appearance  of  a  vindi- 
cation of  the  rights  of  the  suffering  islanders. 
Other  demands  were  made  of  a  highly  insolent 
nature,  and  the  rebels  declared  that,  in  all  further 
negotiations,  they  would  treat  with  no  other  inter- 
mediate agent  than  Carvajal,  having  had  proofs  of 
his  fairness  and  impartiality  in  the  course  of  their 
late  communications  with  him  at  Xaragua. 

This  arrogant  reply  to  his  proffer  of  pardon  was 
totally  different  from  what  the  admiral  had  been 
led  to  expect,  and  placed  him  in  an  embarrassing 
situation.  He  seemed  surrounded  by  treachery 
and  falsehood.  He  knew  that  Roldan  had  friends 
and  secret  partisans  even  among  those  who  pro- 
fessed to  remain  faithful  ;  and  he  knew  not  how 
far  the  ramifications  of  the  conspiracy  might  ex- 
tend. A  circumstance  soon  occurred  to  show  the 
justice  of  his  apprehensions.  He  ordered  the  men 
of  San  Domingo  to  appear  under  arms,  that  he 
might  ascertain  the  force  with  which  he  could 
take  the  field  in  case  of  necessity.  A  report  was 
immediately  circulated  that  they  were  to  be  led  to 
Bonao  against  the  rebels.  Not  above  seventy  men 
appeared  under  arms,  and  of  these  not  forty  were 
to  be  relied  upon.  One  affected  to  be  lame, 
another  ill  ;  some  had  relations,  and  others  had 
friends  among  the  followers  of  Roldan  ;  almost 
all  were  disaffected  to  the  service.* 

Columbus  saw  that  a  resort  to  arms  would  be- 
tray his  own  weakness  and  the  power  of  the  reb- 
els, and  completely  prostrate  the  dignity  and  au- 
thority of  government.  It  was  necessary  to  tem- 
porize, therefore,  however  humiliating  such  con- 
duct might  be  deemed.  He  had  detained  the  five 
ships  for  eighteen  days  in  port,  hoping  in  some 
way  to  have  put  an  end  to  this  rebellion,  so  as  to 
send  home  favorable  accounts  of  the  island  to  the 
sovereigns.  The  provisions  of  the  ships,  how- 
ever, were  wasting.  The  Indian  prisoners  on 
board  were  suffering  and  perishing  ;  several  of 
them  threw  themselves  overboard,  or  were  suffo- 
cated with  heat  in  the  holds  of  the  vessels.  He 
was  anxious  also  that  as  many  of  the  discontented 
colonists  as  possible  should  make  sail  for  Spain 
before  any  commotion  should  take  place. 

On  the  1 8th  of  October,  therefore,  the  ships  put 
to  sea.t  Columbus  wrote  to  the  sovereigns  an 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  78. 

t  In  one  of  these  ships  sailed  the  father  of  the  ven* 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


159 


account  of  the  rebellion,  and  of  his  proffered  par- 
don being  refused.  As  Roldan  pretended  that  it 
was  a  mere  quarrel  between  him  and  the  Adelan- 
tado,  of  which  the  admiral  was  not  an  impartial 
judge,  the  latter  entreated  that  Roldan  might  be 
summoned  to  Spain,  where  the  sovereigns  might 
be  his  judges  ;  or  that  an  investigation  might  take 
place  in  presence  of  Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Carvajal, 
who  was  friendly  to  Roldan,  and  of  Miguel  Bal- 
lester,  as  witness  on  the  part  of  the  Adelantado. 
He  attributed,  in  a  great  measure,  the  troubles  of 
this  island  to  his  own  long  detention  in  Spain,  artd 
the  delays  thrown  in  his  way  by  those  appointed 
to  assist  him,  who  had  retarded  the  departure  of 
the  ships  with  supplies,  until  the  colony  had  been 
reduced  to  the  greatest  scarcity.  Hence  had 
arisen  discontent,  murmuring,  and  finally  rebel- 
lion. He  entreated  the  sovereigns,  in  the  most 
pressing  manner,  that  the  affairs  of  the  colony 
might  not  be  neglected,  and  those  at  Seville,  who 
had  charge  of  its  concerns,  might  be  instructed  at 
least  not  to  devise  impediments  instead  of  assist- 
ance. He  alluded  to  his  chastisement  of  the  con- 
temptible Ximeno  Breviesca,  the  insolent  minion 
of  Fonseca,  and  entreated  that  neither  that  nor 
any  other  circumstance  might  be  allowed  to  prej- 
udice him  in  the  royal  favor,  through  the  misrep- 
resentations of  designing  men.  He  assured  them 
that  the  natural  resources  of  the  island  required 
nothing  but  good  management  to  supply  all  the 
wants  of  the  colonists  ;  but  that  the  latter  were 
indolent  and  profligate.  He  proposed  to  send 
home  by  every  ship,  as  in  the  present  instance,  a 
number  of  the  discontented  and  worthless,  to  be 
replaced  by  sober  and  industrious  men.  He 
begged  also  that  ecclesiastics  might  be  sent  out 
for  the  instruction  and  conversion  of  the  Indians  ; 
and,  what  was  equally  necessary,  for  the  reforma- 
tion of  the  dissolute  Spaniards.  He  required  also 
a  man  learned  in  the  law  to  officiate  as  judge  over 
the  island,  together  with  several  officers  of  the 
royal  revenue.  Nothing  could  surpass  the  sound- 
ness and  policy  of  these  suggestions  ;  but  unfor- 
tunately one  clause  marred  the  moral  beauty  of 
this  excellent  letter.  He  requested  that  for  two 
years  longer  the  Spaniards  might  be  permitted  to 
employ  the  Indians  as  slaves  ;  only  making  use  of 
such,  however,  as  were  captured  in  wars  and  in- 
surrections. Columbus  had  the  usage  of  the  age 
in  excuse  for  this  suggestion  ;  but  it  is  at  variance 
with  his  usual  benignity  of  feeling,  and  his  pater- 
nal conduct  toward  these  unfortunate  people. 

At  the  same  time  he  wrote  another  letter,  giv- 
ing an  account  of  his  recent  voyage,  accompanied 
by  a  chart,  and  by  specimens  of  the  gold,  and  par- 
ticularly of  the  pearls  found  in  the  Gulf  of  Paria. 
He  called  especial  attention  to  the  latter  as  being 
the  first  specimens  of  pearls  found  in  the  New 
World.  It  was  in  this  letter  that  he  described  the 
newly  discovered  continent  in  such  enthusiastic 
terms  as  the  most  favored  part  of  the  East,  the 
source  of  inexhaustible  treasures,  the  supposed 
seat  of  the  terrestrial  paradise  ;  and  he  promised 
to  prosecute  the  discovery  of  its  glorious  realms 
with  the  three  remaining  ships  as  soon  as  the  af- 
fairs of  the  island  should  permit. 

By  this  opportunity  Roldan  and  his  friends  like- 
wise sent  letters  to  Spain,  endeavoring  to  justify 
their  rebellion  by  charging  Columbus  and  his 
brothers  with  oppression  and  injustice,  and  paint- 
ing their  whole  conduct  in  the  blackest  colors.  It 

arable  historian,  Las  Casas,  from  whom  he  derived 
many  of  the  facts  of  his  history.  Las  Casas,  lib.  i. 
cap.  153. 


would  naturally  be  supposed  that  the  representa- 
tions of  such  men  would  have  little  weight  in  the 
balance  against  the  tried  merits  and  exalted  ser- 
vices of  Columbus  ;  but  they  had  numerous 
friends  and  relatives  in  Spain  ;  they  had  the  popu- 
lar prejudice  on  their  side,  and  there  were  design- 
ing persons  in  the  confidence  of  the  sovereigns 
ready  to  advocate  their  cause.  Columbus,  to  use 
his  own  simple  but  affecting  words,  was  "  absent, 
envied,  and  a  stranger."  * 


CHAPTER   III. 

NEGOTIATIONS  AND    ARRANGEMENTS    WITH    THE 
REBELS. 

[1498.] 

THE  ships  being  dispatched,  Columbus  resumed 
his  negotiation  with  the  rebels,  determined  at 
any  sacrifice  to  put  an  end  to  a  sedition  which  dis- 
tracted the  island  and  interrupted  all  his  plans  of 
discovery.  His  three  remaining  ships  lay  idle  in 
the  harbor,  though  a  region  of  apparently  bound- 
less wealth  was  to  be  explored.  He  had  intended 
to  send  his  brother  on  the  discovery,  but  the  ac- 
tive and  military  spirit  of  the  Adelantado  rendered 
his  presence  indispensable,  in  case  the  rebels 
should  come  to  violence.  Such  were  the  difficul- 
ties encountered  at  every  step  of  his  generous  and 
magnanimous  enterprises  ;  impeded  at  one  time 
by  the  insidious  intrigues  of  crafty  men  in  place, 
and  checked  at  another  by  the  insolent  turbulence 
of  a  handful  of  ruffians. 

In  his  consultations  with  the  most  important 
persons  about  him,  Columbus  found  that  much  of 
the  popular  discontent  was  attributed  to  the  strict 
rule  of  his  brother,  who  was  accused  of  dealing 
out  justice  with  a  rigorous  hand.  Las  Casas, 
however,  who  saw  the  whole  of  the  testimony  col- 
lected from  various  sources  with  respect  to  the 
conduct  of  the  Adelantado,  acquits  him  of  all 
charges  of  the  kind,  and  affirms  that,  with  respect 
to  Roldan  in  particular,  he  had  exerted  great  for- 
bearance. Be  this  as  it  may,  Columbus  now,  by 
the  advice  of  his  counsellors,  resolved  to  try  the 
alternative  of  extreme  lenity.  He  wrote  a  letter 
to  Roldan,  dated  the  2oth  of  October,  couched  in 
the  most  conciliating  terms,  calling  to  mind  past 
kindnesses,  and  expressing  deep  concern  for  the 
feud  existing  between  him  and  the  Adelantado. 
He  entreated  him,  for  the  common  good,  and  for 
the  sake  of  his  own  reputation,  which  stood  well 
with  the  sovereigns,  not  to  persist  in  his  present 
insubordination,  and  repeated  the  assurance,  that 
he  and  his  companions  might  come  to  him,  under 
the  faith  of  his  word  for  the  inviolability  of  their 
persons. 

There  was  a  difficulty  as  to  who  should  be  the 
bearer  of  this  letter.  The  rebels  had  declared 
that  they  would  receive  no  one  as  mediator  but 
Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Carvajal.  Strong  doubts,  how- 
ever, existed  in  the  minds  of  those  about  Colum- 
bus as  to  the  integrity  of  that  officer.  They  ob- 
served that  he  had  suffered  Roldan  to  remain  two 
days  on  board  of  his  caravel  at  Xaragua  ;  had  fur- 
nished him  with  weapons  and  stores  ;  had  neglect- 
ed to  detain  him  on  board,  when  he  knew  him  to 
be  a  rebel  ;  had  not  exerted  himself  to  retake  the 
deserters  ;  had  been  escorted  on  his  way  to  San 
Domingo  by  the  rebels,  and  had  sent  refreshments 


Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  157. 


1GO 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


to  them  at  Bonao.  It  was  alleged,  moreover,  that 
he  had  given  himself  out  as  a  colleague  of  Colum- 
bus, appointed  by  government  to  have  a  watch 
and  control  over  his  conduct.  It  was  suggested, 
that,  in  advising  the  rebels  to  approach  San  Do- 
mingo, he  had  intended,  in  case  the  admiral  did 
not  arrive,  to  unite  his  pretended  authority  as  col- 
league, to  that  of  Roldan,  as  chief  judge,  and  to 
seize  upon  the  reins  of  government.  Finally,  the 
desire  of  the  rebels  to  have  him  sent  to  them  as 
an  agent,  was  cited  as  proof  that  he  was  to  join 
them  as  a  leader,  and  that  the  standard  of  rebel- 
lion was  to  be  hoisted  at  Bonao.*  These  circum- 
stances, tor  some  time,  perplexed  Columbus  ;  but 
he  reflected  that  Carvajal,  as  far  as  he  had  ob- 
served his  conduct,  had  behaved  like  a  man  of  in- 
tegrity ;  most  of  the  circumstances  alleged  against 
him  admitted  of  a  construction  in  his  favor  ;  the 
rest  were  mere  rumors,  and  he  had  unfortunately 
experienced,  in  his  own  case,  how  easily  the  fair- 
est actions  and  the  fairest  characters  may  be 
falsified  by  rumor.  He  discarded,  therefore,  all 
suspicion,  and  determined  to  confide  implicitly  in 
Carvajal  ;  nor  had  he  ever  any  reason  to  repent 
of  his  confidence. 

The  admiral  had  scarcely  dispatched  this  letter, 
when  he  received  one  from  the  leaders  of  the 
rebels,  written  several  days  previously.  In  this 
they  not  merely  vindicated  themselves  from  the 
charge  of  rebellion,  but  claimed  great  merit,  as 
having  dissuaded  their  followers  from  a  resolution 
to  kill  the  Adelantado,  in  revenge  of  his  oppres- 
sions, prevailing  upon  them  to  await  patiently  for 
redress  from  the  admiral.  A  month  had  elapsed 
since  his  arrival,  during  which  they  had  waited 
anxiously  for  his  orders,  but  he  had  manifested 
nothing  but  irritation  against  them.  Considera- 
tions ot  honor  and  safety,  therefore,  obliged  them 
to  withdraw  from  his  service,  and  they  according- 
ly demanded  their  discharge.  This  letter  was 
dated  from  Bonao,  the  I7thof  October,  and  signed 
by  Francisco  Roldan,  Adrian  de  Moxica,  Pedro  de 
Gamez,  and  Diego  de  Escobar,  f 

In  the  mean  time  Carvajal  arrived  at  Boano,  ac- 
companied by  Miguel  Ballester.  They  found  the 
rebels  full  of  arrogance  and  presumption.  The 
conciliating  letter  of  the  admiral,  however,  en- 
forced by  the  earnest  persuasions  of  Carvajal  and 
the  admonitions  of  the  veteran  Ballester,  had  a 
favorable  effect  on  several  of  the  leaders,  who  had 
more  intellect  than  their  brutal  followers.  Rol- 
dan, Gamez,  Escobar,  and  two  or  three  others, 
actually  mounted  their  horses  to  repair  to  the  ad- 
miral, but  were  detained  by  the  clamorous  oppo- 
sition of  their  men  ;  too  infatuated  with  their  idle, 
licentious  mode  of  life,  to  relish  the  idea  of  a 
return  to  labor  and  discipline.  These  insisted 
that  it  was  a  matter  which  concerned  them  all  ; 
whatever  arrangement  was  to  be  made,  therefore, 
should  be  made  in  public,  in  writing,  and  subject 
to  their  approbation  or  dissent.  A  day  or  two 
elapsed  before  this  clamor  could  be  appeased. 
Roldan  then  wrote  to  the  admiral,  that  his  fol- 
lowers objected  to  his  coming,  unless  a  written 
assurance,  or  passport,  were  sent,  protecting  the 
persons  of  himself  and  such  as  should  accompany 
him.  Miguel  Ballester  wrote,  at  the  same  time, 
to  the  admiral,  urging  him  to  agree  to  whatever 
terms  the  rebels  might  demand.  He  represented 
their  forces  as  continually  augmenting,  the  sol- 
diers of  his  garrison  daily  deserting  to  them  ;  un- 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  78. 

f  Ibid.,  cap.  79.    Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  13. 


less,  therefore,  some  compromise  were  speedily 
effected,  and  the  rebels  shipped  off  to  Spain,  he 
feared  that,  not  merely  the  authority,  but  even  the 
person  of  the  admiral  would  be  in  danger  ;  for 
though  the  Hidalgos  and  the  officers  and  servants 
immediately  about  him  would,  doubtless,  die  in 
his  service,  the  common  people  were  but  little  to 
be  depended  upon.* 

Columbus  felt  the  increasing  urgency  of  the 
case,  and  sent  the  required  passport.  Roldan 
came  to  San  Domingo  ;  but,  from  his  conduct,  it 
appeared  as  if  his  object  was  to  make  partisans, 
and  gain  deserters,  rather  than  to  effect  a  recon- 
ciliation. He  had  several  conversations  with  the 
admiral,  and  several  letters  passed  between  them. 
He  made  many  complaints,  and  numerous  de- 
mands ;  Columbus  made  large  concessions,  but 
some  of  the  pretensions  were  too  arrogant  to  be 
admitted.!  Nothing  definite  was  arranged.  Rol- 
dan departed  under  the  pretext  of  conferring  with 
his  people,  promising  to  send  his  terms  in  writ- 
ing. The  admiral  sent  his  mayordomo,  Diego  de 
Salamanca,  to  treat  in  his  behalf.J 

On  the  6th  of  November  Roldan  wrote  a  letter 
from  Bonao,  containing  his  terms,  and  requesting 
that  a  reply  might  be  sent  to  him  to  Conception, 
as  scarcity  of  provisions  obliged  him  to  leave 
Bonao.  He  added  that  he  should  wait  for  a 
reply  until  the  following  Monday  (the  nth). 
There  was  an  insolent  menace  implied  in  this 
note,  accompanied  as  it  was  by  insolent  demands. 
The  admiral  found  it  impossible  to  comply  with 
the  latter  ;  but  to  manifest  his  lenient  disposition, 
and  to  take  from  the  rebels  all  plea  of  rigor,  he 
had  a  proclamation  affixed  for  thirty  days  at  the 
gate  of  the  fortress,  promising  full  indulgence  and 
complete  oblivion  of  the  past  to  Roldan  and  his 
followers,  on  condition  of  their  presenting  them- 
selves before  him  and  returning  to  their  allegiance 
to  the  crown  within  a  month  ;  together  with  free 
conveyance  for  all  such  as  wished  to  return  to 
Spain  ;  but  threatening  to  execute  rigorous  justice 
upon  those  who  should  not  appear  wilhin  the  limit- 
ed time.  A  copy  of  this  paper  he  sent  to  Roldan 
by  Carvajal,  with  a  letter,  stating  the  impossibility 
of  compliance  with  his  terms,  but  offering  to  agree 
to  any  compact  drawn  up  with  the  approbation  of 
Carvajal  and  Salamanca. 

When  Carvajal  arrived,  he  found  the  veteran 
Ballester  actually  besieged  in  his  fortress  of  Con- 
ception by  Roldan,  under  pretext  of  claiming,  in 
his  official  character  of  alcalde  mayor,  a  culprit 
who  had  taken  refuge  there  from  justice.  He  had 
cut  off  the  supply  ot  water  from  the  fort,  by  way 
of  distressing  it  into  a  surrender.  When  Carvajal 
posted  up  the  proclamation  ot  the  admiral  on  the 
gate  of  the  fortress,  the  rebels  scoffed  at  the 
proffered  amnesty,  saying  that,  in  a  little  while, 
they  would  oblige  the  admiral  to  ask  the  same  at 
their  hands.  The  earnest  intercessions  of  Carva- 
jal, however,  brought  the  leaders  at  length  to  re- 
flection, and  through  his  mediation  articles  of 
capitulation  were  drawn  up.  By  these  it  was 
agreed  that  Roldan  and  his  followers  should  em- 
bark for  Spain  from  the  port  of  Xaragua  in  two 
ships,  to  be  fitted  out  and  victualled  within  fifty 
days.  That  they  should  each  receive  from  the 
admiral  a  certificate  of  good  conduct,  and  an 
order  for  the  amount  of  their  pay,  up  to  the  actual 
date.  That  slaves  should  be  given  to  them,  as  had 
been  given  to  others,  in  consideration  of  services 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib  i.  cap.  153. 

t  Ibid.,  cap.  158. 

$  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  79. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


161 


performed  ;  and  as  several  of  their  company  had 
wives,  natives  of  the  island,  who  were  pregnant, 
or  had  lately  been  delivered,  they  might  take  them 
with  them,  if  willing  to  go,  in  place  of  the  slaves. 
That  satisfaction  should  be  made  for  property  of 
some  of  the  company  which  had  been  sequestrat- 
ed, and  for  live  stock  which  had  belonged  to  Fran- 
cisco Roldan.  There  were  other  conditions,  pro- 
viding for  the  security  of  their  persons  ;  and  it 
was  stipulated  that,  if  no  reply  were  received  to 
these  terms  within  eight  days,  the  whole  should  be 
void.* 

This  agreement  was  signed  by  Roldan  and  his 
companions  at  Fort  Conception  on  the  i6th  of  No- 
vember, and  by  the  admiral  at  San  Domingo  on 
the  2 1  st.  At  the  same  time,  he  proclaimed  a  fur- 
ther act  of  grace,  permitting  such  as  chose  to  re- 
main in  the  island  either  to  come  to  San  Domingo, 
and  enter  into  the  royal  service,  or  to  hold  lands 
in  any  part  of  the  island.  They  preferred,  how- 
ever, to  follow  the  fortunes  of  Roldan,  who  de- 
parted with  his  band  for  Xaragua,  to  await  the 
arrival  of  the  ships,  accompanied  by  Miguel  Bal- 
lester,  sent  by  the  admiral  to  superintend  the 
preparations  for  their  embarkation. 

Columbus  was  deeply  grieved  to  have  his  pro- 
jected enterprise  to  Terra  Firma  impeded  by  such 
contemptible  obstacles,  and  the  ships  which  should 
have  borne  his  brother  to  explore  that  newly-found 
continent  devoted  to  the  use  of  this  turbulent  and 
worthless  rabble.  He  consoled  himself,  however, 
with  the  reflection,  that  all  the  mischief  which 
had  so  long  been  lurking  in  the  island,  would 
thus  be  at  once  shipped  off,  and  thenceforth  every- 
thing restored  to  order  and  tranquillity.  He 
ordered  every  exertion  to  be  made,  therefore,  to 
get  the  ships  in  readiness  to  be  sent  round  to 
Xaragua  ;  but  the  scarcity  of  sea-stores,  and  the 
difficulty  of  completing  the  arrangements  for  such 
a  voyage  in  the  disordered  state  of  the  colony,  de- 
layed their  departure  far  beyond  the  stipulated 
time.  Feeling  that  he  had  been  compelled  to  a 
kind  of  deception  toward  the  sovereigns,  in  the 
certificate  of  good  conduct  given  to  Roldan  and 
his  followers,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  them,  stating  the 
circumstances  under  which  that  certificate  had 
been  in  a  manner  wrung  from  him  to  save  the 
island  from  utter  confusion  and  ruin.  He  repre- 
sented the  real  character  and  conduct  of  those 
men  ;  how  they  had  rebelled  against  his  authority  ; 
prevented  the  Indians  from  paying  tribute  ;  pil- 
laged the  island  ;  possessed  themselves  of  large 
quantities  of  gold,  and  carried  off  the  daughters 
of  several  of  the  caciques.  He  advised,  therefore, 
that  they  should  be  seized,  and  their  slaves  and 
treasure  taken  from  them,  until  their  conduct 
could  be  properly  investigated.  This  letter  he  in- 
trusted to  a  confidential  person,  who  was  to  go  in 
one  of  the  ships. f 

The  rebels  having  left  the  neighborhood,  and 
the  affairs  of  San  Domingo  being  in  a  state  of 
security,  Columbus  put  his  brother  Don  Diego  in 
temporary  command,  and  departed  with  the  Ade- 
lantado  on  a  tour  of  several  months  to  visit  the 
various  stations,  and  restore  the  island  to  order. 

The  two  caravels  destined  for  the  use  of  the 
rebels  sailed  from  San  Domingo  for  Xaragua 
about  the  end  of  February  ;  but,  encountering  a 
violent  storm,  were  obliged  to  put  into  one  of  the 
harbors  of  the  island,  where  they  were  detained 
until  the  end  of  March.  One  was  so  disabled  as 
to  be  compelled  to  return  to  San  Domingo. 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  80. 

f  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad,  i.  lib.  Hi.  cap.  16. 


Another  vessel  was  dispatched  to  supply  its  place, 
in  which  the  indefatigable  Carvajal  set  sail,  to  ex- 
pedite the  embarkation  of  the  rebels.  He  was 
eleven  clays  in  making  the  voyage,  and  found  the 
other  caravel  at  Xaragua. 

The  followers  of  Roldan  had  in  the  mean  time 
changed  their  minds,  and  now  refused  to  em- 
bark ;  as  usual,  they  threw  all  the  blame  on  Co- 
lumbus, affirming  that  he  had  purposely  delayed 
the  ships  far  beyond  the  stipulated  time  ;  that  he 
had  sent  them  in  a  state  not  seaworthy, and  short 
of  provisions,  with  many  other  charges,  artfully 
founded  on  circumstances  over  which  they  knew 
he  could  have  no  control.  Carvajal  made  a  formal 
protest  before  a  notary  who  had  accompanied 
him,  and  finding  that  the  ships  were  suffering 
great  injury  Irom  the  teredo  or  worm,  and  their 
provisions  failing,  he  sent  them  back  to  San  Do- 
mingo, and  set  out  on  his  return  by  land.  Rol- 
dan accompanied  him  a  little  distance  on  horse- 
back, evidently  disturbed  in  mind.  He  feared  to 
return  to  Spain,  yet  was  shrewd  enough  to  know 
the  insecurity  of  his  present  situation  at  the  head 
of  a  band  of  dissolute  men,  acting  in  defiance  of 
authority.  What  tie  had  he  upon  their  fidelity 
stronger  than  the  sacred  obligations  which  they 
had  violated  ?  After  riding  thoughtfully  for  some 
distance,  he  paused,  and  requested  some  private 
conversation  with  Carvajal  before  they  parted. 
They  alighted  under  the  shade  of  a  tree.  Here 
Roldan  made  further  professions  of  the  loyalty  of 
his  intentions,  and  finally  declared,  that  if  the  ad- 
miral would  once  more  send  him  a  written  se- 
curity for  his  person,  with  the  guarantee  also  of 
the  principal  persons  about  him,  he  would  come 
to  treat  with  him,  and  trusted  that  the  whole  matter 
would  be  arranged  on  terms  satisfactory  to  both 
parties.  This  offer,  however,  he  added,  must  be 
kept  secret  from  his  followers. 

Carvajal,  overjoyed  at  this  prospect  of  a  final 
arrangement,  lost  no  time  in  conveying  the  propo- 
sition of  Roldan  to  the  admiral.  The  latter  im- 
mediately forwarded  the  required  passport  or  se- 
curity, sealed  with  the  royal  seal,  accompanied  by 
a  letter  written  in  amicable  terms,  exhorting  his 
quiet  obedience  to  the  authority  of  the  sovereigns. 
Several  of  the  principal  persons  also,  who  were 
with  the  admiral,  wrote,  at  his  request,  a  letter  of 
security  to  Roldan,  pledging  themselves  for  the 
safety  of  himself  and  his  followers  during  the  ne- 
gotiation, provided  they  did  nothing  hostile  to  the 
royal  authority  or  its  representative. 

While  Columbus  was  thus,  with  unwearied  as- 
siduity and  loyal  zeal,  endeavoring  to  bring  the 
island  back  to  its  obedience,  he  received  a  reply 
from  Spain,  to  the  earnest  representations  made 
by  him,  in  the  preceding  autumn,  of  the  distracted 
state  of  the  colony  and  the  outrages  of  these  law- 
less men,  and  his  prayers  for  royal  countenance 
and  support.  The  letter  was  written  by  his  in- 
vidious enemy,  the  Bishop  Fonseca,  superintend- 
ent of  Indian  affairs.  It  acknowledged  the  re- 
ceipt of  his  statement  of  the  alleged  insurrection 
of  Roldan,  but  observed  that  this  matter  must  be 
suffered  to  remain  in  suspense,  as  the  sovereigns 
would  investigate  and  remedy  it  presently.* 

This  cold  reply  had  a  disheartening  effect  upon 
Columbus.  He  saw  that  his  complaints  had  little 
weight  with  the  government  ;  he  feared  that  his 
enemies  were  prejudicing  him  with  the  sover- 
eigns ;  and  he  anticipated  redoubled  insolence  on 
the  part  of  the  rebels,  when  they  should  discover 
how  little  influence  he  possessed  in  Spain.  Full  of 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 


162 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


zeal,  however,  for  the  success  of  his  undertaking, 
and  of  fidelity  to  the  interests  of  the  sovereigns, 
he  resolved  to  spare  no  personal  sacrifice  of  com- 
fort or  dignity  in  appeasing  the  troubles  of  the 
island.  Eager  to  expedite  the  negotiation  with 
Roldan,  therefore,  he  sailed  in  the  latter  part  of 
August  with  two  caravels  to  the  port  of  Azua, 
west  of  San  Domingo,  and  much  nearer  to  Xara- 
gua.  He  was  accompanied  by  several  of  the  most 
important  personages  of  the  colony.  Roldan  re- 
paired thither  likewise,  with  the  turbulent  Adrian 
de  Moxica,  and  a  number  of  his  band.  The  con- 
cessions already  obtained  had  increased  his  pre- 
sumption ;  and  he  had,  doubtless,  received  intel- 
ligence of  the  cold  manner  in  which  the  com- 
plaints of  the  admiral  had  been  received  in  Spain. 
He  conducted  himself  more  like  a  conqueror,  ex- 
acting triumphant  terms,  than  a  delinquent  seek- 
ing to  procure  pardon  by  atonement.  He  came 
on  board  of  the  caravel,  and  with  his  usual  effront- 
ery, propounded  the  preliminaries  upon  which  he 
and  his  companions  were  disposed  to  negotiate. 

First,  that  he  should  be  permitted  to  send  sev- 
eral of  his  company,  to  the  number  of  fifteen,  to 
Spain,  in  the  vessels  which  were  at  San  Domingo. 
Secondly,  that  those  who  remained  should  have 
lands  granted  them,  in  place  of  royal  pay.  Third- 
ly, that  it  should  be  proclaimed  that  everything 
charged  against  him  and  his  party  had  been 
grounded  upon  false  testimony,  and  the  machina- 
tions of  persons  disaffected  to  the  royal  service. 
Fourthly,  that  he  should  be  reinstated  in  his  office 
of  alcalde  mayor,  or  chief  judge.* 

These  were  hard  and  insolent  conditions  to 
commence  with,  but  they  were  granted.  Roldan 
then  went  on  shore,  and  communicated  them  to 
his  companions.  At  the  end  of  two  days  the  in- 
surgents sent  their  capitulations,  drawn  up  in 
form,  and  couched  in  arrogant  language,  includ- 
ing all  the  stipulations  granted  at  Fort  Concep- 
tion, with  those  recently  demanded  by  Roldan, 
and  concluding  with  one,  more  insolent  than  all 
the  rest,  namely,  that  if  the  admiral  should  fail 
in  the  fulfilment  of  any  of  these  articles,  they 
should  have  a  right  to  assemble  together,  and 
compel  his  performance  of  them  by  force,  or  by 
any  other  means  they  might  think  proper.f  The 
conspirators  thus  sought  not  merely  exculpation 
of  the  past,  but  a  pretext  for  future  rebellion. 

The  mind  grows  wearied  and  impatient  with 
recording,  and  the  heart  of  the  generous  reader 
must  burn  with  indignation  at  perusing,  this  pro- 
tracted and  ineffectual  struggle  of  a  man  of  the 
exalted  merits  and  matchless  services  of  Colum- 
bus, in  the  toils  of  such  miscreants.  Surrounded 
by  doubt  and  danger  ;  a  foreigner  among  a  jeal- 
ous people  ;  an  unpopular  commander  in  a  mu- 
tinous island  ;  distrusted  and  slighted  by  the  gov- 
ernment he  was  seeking  to  serve  ;  and  creating 
suspicion  by  his  very  services  ;  he  knew  not  where 
to  look  for  faithful  advice,  efficient  aid,  or  candid 
judgment.  The  very  ground  on  which  he  stood 
seemed  giving  way  under  him,  for  he  was  told  of 
seditious  symptoms  among  his  own  people.  See- 
ing the  impunity  with  which  the  rebels  rioted  in 
the  possession  of  one  of  the  finest  parts  of  the 
island,  they  began  to  talk  among  themselves  of  fol- 
lowing their  example,  of  abandoning  the  standard 
of  the  admiral,  and  seizing  upon  the  province  of 
Higuey,  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  island, 
which  was  said  to  contain  valuable  mines  of  gold. 
Thus  critically  situated,  d;sregarding  every  con- 

*  Herrera.  decad.  i.  lib.  Hi.  cap.  16. 
f  Ibid.     Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  38. 


sideration  of  personal  pride  and  dignity,  and  de- 
termined, at  any  individual  sacrifice,  to  secure 
the  interests  of  an  ungrateful  sovereign,  Colum- 
bus forced  himself  to  sign  this  most  humiliating 
capitulation.  He  trusted  that  afterward,  when  he 
could  gain  quiet  access  to  the  royal  ear,  he  should 
be  able  to  convince  the  king  and  queen  that  it  had 
been  compulsory,  and  forced  from  him  by  the  ex- 
traordinary difficulties  in  which  he  had  been 
placed,  and  the  imminent  perils  of  the  colony. 
Before  signing  it,  however,  he  inserted  a  stipula- 
tion, that  the  commands  of  the  sovereigns,  of  him- 
self, and  of  the  justices  appointed  by  him,  should 
be  punctually  obeyed.* 


CHAPTER  IV. 

GRANTS  MADE  TO  ROLDAN  AND  HIS  FOLLOWERS 
—DEPARTURE  OF  SEVERAL  OF  THE  REBELS 
FOR  SPAIN. 

[H99- 1 

WHEN  Roldan  resumed  his  office  of  alcalde 
mayor,  or  chief  judge,  he  displayed  all  the  arro- 
gance to  be  expected  from  one  who  had  intruded 
himself  into  power  by  profligate  means.  At  the 
city  of  San  Domingo  he  was  always  surrounded 
by  his  faction  ;  communed  only  with  the  dissolute 
and  disaffected  ;  and,  having  all  the  turbulent 
and  desperate  men  of  the  community  at  his  beck, 
was  enabled  to  intimidate  the  quiet  and  loyal  by 
his  frowns.  He  bore  an  impudent  front  against 
the  authority  even  of  Columbus  himself,  discharg- 
ing from  office  one  Rodrigo  Perez,  a  lieutenant  of 
the  admiral,  declaring  that  none  but  such  as  he 
appointed  should  bear  a  staff  of  office  in  the 
island. f  Columbus  had  a  difficult  and  painful 
task  in  bearing  with  the  insolence  of  this  man, 
and  of  the  shameless  rabble  which  had  returned, 
under  his  auspices,  to  the  settlements.  He  tacitly 
permitted  many  abuses  ;  endeavoring  by  mild- 
ness and  indulgence  to  allay  the  jealdusies  and 
prejudices  awakened  against  him,  and  by  various 
concessions  to  lure  the  factious  to  the  perform- 
ance of  their  duty.  To  such  of  the  colonists  gen- 
erally as  preferred  to  remain  in  the  island,  he  of- 
fered a  choice  of  either  royal  pay  or  portions  ot 
lands,  with  a  number  of  Indians,  some  free,  others 
as  slaves,  to  assist  in  the  cultivation.  The  latter 
was  generally  preferred  ;  -and  grants  were  made 
out,  in  which  he  endeavored  as  much  as  possible 
to  combine  the  benefit  ot  the  individual  with  the 
interests  of  the  colony. 

Roldan  presented  a  memorial  signed  by  upward 
of  one  hundred  of  his  late  followers,  demanding 
grants  of  lands  and  licenses  to  settle,  and  choosing 
Xaragua  for  their  place  of  abode.  The  admiral 
feared  to  trust  such  a  numerous  body  of  factious 
partisans  in  so  remote  a  province  ;  he  contrived, 
therefore,  to  distribute  them  in  various  parts  of 
the  island  ;  some  at  Bonao,  where  their  settle- 
ment gave  origin  to  the  town  of  that  name  ; 
others  on  the  bank  of  the  Rio  Verde,  or  Green 
River,  in  the  Vega  ;  others  about  six  leagues 
thence,  at  St.  Jago.  He  assigned  to  them  liberal 
portions  of  land,  and  numerous  Indian  slaves, 
taken  in  the  wars.  He  made  an  arrangement,  also, 
by  which  the  caciques  in  their  vicinity,  instead  of 
paying  tribute,  should  furnish  parties  of  their  sub- 
jects, free  Indians,  to  assist  the  colonists  in  the 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 
t  Ibid. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


163 


cultivation  of  their  lands  :  a  kind  of  feudal  ser- 
vice, which  was  the  origin  of  the  repartimientos, 
or  distributions  of  free  Indians  among  the  colo- 
nists, afterward  generally  adopted,  and  shamefully 
abused,  throughout  the  Spanish  colonies  ;  a 
source  of  intolerable  hardships  and  oppressions 
to  the  unhappy  natives,  and  which  greatly  contrib- 
uted to  exterminate  them  from  the  island  of  His- 
paniola.*  Columbus  considered  the  island  in  the 
light  of  a  conquered  country,  and  arrogated  to 
himself  all  the  rights  of  a  conqueror,  in  the  name 
of  the  sovereigns  for  whom  he  fought.  Of  course 
all  his  companions  in  the  enterprise  were  entitled 
to  take  part  in  the  acquired  territory,  and  to  es- 
tablish themselves  there  as  feudal  lords,  reducing 
the  natives  to  the  condition  of  villains  or  vassals. f 
This  was  an  arrangement  widely  different  from 
his  original  intention  of  treating  the  natives  with 
kindness,  as  peaceful  subjects  of  the  crown.  But 
all  his  plans  had  been  subverted,  and  his  present 
measures  forced  upon  him  by  the  exigency  of  the 
times  and  the  violence  of  lawless  men.  He  ap- 
pointed a  captain  with  an  armed  band,  as  a  kind 
of  police,  with  orders  to  range  the  provinces  ; 
oblige  the  Indians  to  pay  their  tributes  ;  watch 
over  the  conduct  of  the  colonists  ;  and  check  the 
least  appearance  of  mutiny  or  insurrection.! 

Having  sought  and  obtained  such  ample  provi- 
sions for  his  followers,  Roldanwasnot  more  mod- 
est in  making  demands  for  himself.  He  claimed 
certain  lands  in  the  vicinity  of  Isabella,  as  having 
belonged  to  him  before  his  rebellion  ;  also  a  royal 
farm,  called  La  Esperanza,  situated  on  the  Vega, 
and  devoted  to  the  rearing  of  poultry.  These  the 
admiral  granted  him  with  permission  to  employ,  in 
the  cultivation  of  the  farm,  the  subjects  of  the  ca- 
cique whose  ears  had  been  cut  off  by  Alonso  de 
Ojecla  in  his  first  military  expedition  into  the 
Vega.  Roldan  received  also  grants  of  land  in 
Xaragua,  and  a  variety  of  live  stock  from  the  cat- 
tle and  other  animals  belonging  to  the  crown. 
These  grants  were  made  to  him  provisionally, 
until  the  pleasure  of  the  sovereigns  should  be 
known  ;§  for  Columbus  yet  trusted  thatwhen  they 
should  understand  the  manner  in  which  these 
concessions  had  been  extorted  from  him,  the  ring- 
leaders of  the  rebels  would  not  merely  be  stripped 
of  their  ill-gotten  possessions,  but  receive  well- 
merited  punishment. 

Roldan  having  now  enriched  himself  beyond  his 
hopes,  requested  permission  of  Columbus  to  visit 
his  lands.  This  was  granted  with  great  reluct- 
ance. He  immediately  departed  for  the  Vega, 
and  stopping  at  Bonao,  his  late  headquarters, 
made  Pedro  Requelme  one  off  his  most  active 
confederates,  alcalde,  or  judge  of  the  place,  with 
the  power  of  arresting  all  delinquents,  and  send- 
ing them  prisoners  to  the  fortress  of  Conception, 
where  he  reserved  to  himself  the  right  of  sentenc- 
ing them.  This  was  an  assumption  of  po\vers 
not  vested  in  his  office,  and  gave  great  offence  to 
Columbus.  Other  circumstances  created  appre- 
hensions of  further  troubles  from  the  late  insur- 
gents. Pedro  Requelme,  under  pretext  of  erect- 
ing farming  buildings  for  his  cattle,  began  to  con- 
struct a  strong  edifice  on  a  hill,  capable  of  being 
converted  into  a  formidable  fortress.  This,  it 
was  whispered,  was  done  in  concert  with  Roldan, 
by  way  of  securing  a  stronghold  in  case  of  need. 
Being  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Vega,  where  so 

*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 
f  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  lib.  vi.  §  50. 
|  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  84. 
§  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 


many  of  their  late  partisans  were  settled,  it  would 
form  a  dangerous  rallying  place  for  any  new  se- 
dition. The  designs  of  Requelme  were  suspected 
and  his  proceedings  opposed  by  Pedro  de  Arana, 
a  loyal  and  honorable  man,  who  was  on  the  spot. 
Representations  were  made  by  both  parties  to  the 
admiral,  who  prohibited  Requelme  from  proceed- 
ing with  the  construction  of  his  edifice.* 

Columbus  had  prepared  to  return,  with  his 
brother,  Don  Bartholomew,  to  Spain,  where  he 
felt  that  his  presence  was  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance to  place  the  late  events  of  the  island  in  a 
proper  light  ;  having  found  that  his  letters  of  ex- 
planation were  liable  to  be  counteracted  by  the 
misrepresentations  of  malevolent  enemies.  The 
island,  however,  was  still  in  a  feverish  state.  He 
was  not  not  well  assured  of  the  fidelity  of  the  late 
rebels,  though  so  dearly  purchased  ;  there  was  a 
rumor  of  a  threatened  descent  into  the  Vega,  by 
the  mountain  tribes  of  Ciguay,  to  attempt  the  res- 
cue of  their  cacique  Mayobanex,  still  detained  a 
prisoner  in  the  fortress  of  Conception.  Tidings 
were  brought  about  the  same  time  from  the  west- 
ern parts  of  the  island,  that  four  strange  ships 
had  arrived  at  the  coast,  under  supicious  appear- 
ances. These  circumstances  obliged  him  to  post- 
pone his  departure,  and  held  him  involved  in  the 
affairs  of  this  favorite  but  fatal  island. 

The  two  caravels  were  dispatched  for  Spain  in 
the  beginning  of  October,  taking  such  of  the  col- 
onists as  chose  to  return,  and  among  them  a  num- 
ber of  Roldan's  partisans.  Some  of  these  took 
with  them  slaves,  others  carried  away  the 
daughters  of  caciques  whom  they  had  beguiled 
from  their  families  and  homes.  At  these  iniquities, 
no  less  than  at  many  others  which  equally  grieved 
his  spirit,  the  admiral  was  obliged  to  connive.  He 
was  conscious,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  was 
sending  home  a  reinforcement  of  enemies  and 
false  witnesses,  to  defame  his  character  and  tra- 
duce his  conduct,  but  he  had  no  alternative.  To 
counteract,  as  much  as  possible,  their  misrepre- 
sentations, he  sent  by  the  same  caravel  the  loyal 
and  upright  veteran  Miguel  Ballester,  together 
with  Garcia  de  Barrantes,  empowered  to  attend 
to  his  affairs  at  court,  and  furnished  with  the  dep- 
ositions taken  relative  to  the  conduct  of  Roldan 
and  his  accomplices. 

In  his  letters  to  the  sovereigns  he  entreated 
them  to  inquire  into  the  truth  of  the  late  transac- 
tions. He  stated  his  opinion  that  his  capitulations 
with  the  rebels  were  null  and  void,  for  various 
reasons — viz.,  they  had  been  extorted  from  him  by 
violence,  and  at  sea,  where  he  did  not  exercise 
the  office  of  viceroy  ;  there  had  been  two  trials  rel- 
ative to  the  insurrection,  and  the  insurgents  hav- 
ing been  condemned  as  traitors,  it  was  not  in  the 
power  of  the  admiral  to  absolve  them  from  their 
criminality  ;  the  capitulations  treated  of  matters 
touching  the  royal  revenue,  over  which  he  had  no 
control,  without  the  intervention  of  the  proper 
officers  ;  lastly,  Francisco  Roldan  and  his  com- 
panions, on  leaving  Spain,  had  taken  an  oath  to 
be  faithful  to  the  sovereigns,  and  to  the  admiral 
in  their  name,  which  oath  they  had  violated.  For 
these  and  similar  reasons,  some  just,  others  rather 
sophistical,  he  urged  the  sovereigns  not  to  con- 
sider themselves  bound  to  ratify  the  compulsory 
terms  ceded  to  these  profligate  men,  but  to  inquire 
into  their  offences,  and  treat  them  accordingly. f 

He  repeated  the  request  made  in  a  former  let- 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16.     Hist,  del  Al- 
mirante, cap.  83,  84. 
f  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 


1C4 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ter,  that  a  learned  judge  might  be  sent  out  to  ad- 
minister the  laws  in  the  island,  since  he  himself 
had  been  charged  with  rigor,  although  conscious 
of  having  always  observed  a  guarded  clemency. 
He  requested  also  that  discreet  persons  should  be 
sent  out  to  form  a  council,  and  others  for  certain 
fiscal  employments,  entreating,  however,  that 
their  powers  should  be  so  limited  and  defined,  as 
not  to  interfere  with  his  dignity  and  privileges. 
He  bore  strongly  on  this  point ;  as  his  preroga- 
tives on  former  occasions  had  been  grievously  in- 
vaded. It  appeared  to  him,  he  said,  that  princes 
ought  to  show  much  confidence  in  their  govern- 
ors ;  for  without  the  royal  favor  to  give  them 
strength  and  consequence,  everything  went  to  ruin 
under  their  command  ;  a  sound  maxim,  forced 
from  the  admiral  by  his  recent  experience,  in  ivhich 
much  of  his  own  perplexities,  and  the  triumph  of 
the  rebels,  had  been  caused  by  the  distrust  of  the 
crown,  and  its  inattention  to  his  remonstrances. 

Finding  age  and  infirmity  creeping  upon  him, 
and  his  health  much  impaired  by  his  last  voyage, 
he  began  to  think  of  his  son  Diego,  as  an  active 
coadjutor  ;  who,  being  destined  as  his  successor, 
might  gain  experience  under  his  eye,  for  the  fu- 
ture discharge  of  his  high  duties.  Diego,  though 
still  serving  as  a  page  at  the  court,  was  grown  to 
man's  estate,  and  capable  of  entering  into  the  im- 
portant concerns  of  life.  Columbus  entreated, 
therefore,  that  he  might  be  sent  out  to  assist  him, 
as  he  felt  himself  infirm  in  health  and  broken  in 
constitution,  and  less  capable  of  exertion  than 
formerly.* 


CHAPTER   V. 

ARRIVAL  OF  OJEDA  WITH  A  SQUADRON  AT  THE 
WESTERN  PART  OF  THE  ISLAND — ROLDAN 
SENT  TO  MEET  HIM. 

['499- 1 

AMONG  the  causes  which  induced  Columbus  to 
postpone  his  departure  for  Spain,  has  been  men- 
tioned the  arrival  of  four  ships  at  the  western  part 
of  the  island.  These  had  anchored  on  the  5th  of 
September  in  a  harbor  a  little  below  Jacquemel, 
apparently  with  the  design  of  cutting  dyewoods, 
which  abound  in  that  neighborhood,  and  of  carry- 
ing off  the  natives  for  slaves.  Further  reports  in- 
formed him  that  they  were  commanded  by  Alonso 
de  Ojeda,  the  same  hot-headed  and  bold-hearted 
cavalier  who  had  distinguished  himself  on  various 
occasions  in  the  previous  voyages  of  discovery, 
and  particularly  in  the  capture  of  the  cacique 
Caonabo.  Knowing  the  daring  and  adventurous 
spirit  of  this  man,  Columbus  felt  much  disturbed 
at  his  visiting  the  island  in  this  clandestine  man- 
ner, on  what  appeared  to  be  little  better  than  a 
freebooting  expedition.  To  call  him  to  account, 
and  oppose  his  aggressions,  required  an  agent  of 
spirit  and  address.  No  one  seemed  better  fitted 
for  the  purpose  than  Roldan.  He  was  as  daring  as 
Ojeda,  and  of  a  more  crafty  character.  An  expe- 
dition of  the  kind  would  occupy  the  attention  of 
himself  and  his  partisans,  and  divert  them  from 
any  schemes  of  mischief.  The  large  concessions 
recently  made  to  them  would,  he  trusted,  secure 
their  present  fidelity,  rendering  it  more  profitable 
for  them  to  be  loyal  than  rebellious. 

Roldan  readily  undertook  the  enterprise.  He 
had  nothing  further  to  gain  by  sedition,  and  was 


Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iii.  cap.  16. 


anxious  to  secure  his  ill-gotten  possessions  and 
atone  for  past  offences  by  public  services.  He 
was  vain  as  well  as  active,  and  took  a  pride  in 
acquitting  himself  well  in  an  expedition  which 
called  for  both  courage  and  shrewdness.  Depart- 
ing from  San  Domingo  with  two  caravels,  he  ar- 
rived on  the  2gth  of  September  within  two  leagues 
of  the  harbor  where  the  ships  of  Ojeda  were 
anchored.  Here  he  landed  with  five  and  twenty 
resolute  followers,  well  armed,  and  accustomed 
to  range  the  forests.  He  sent  five  scouts  to  re- 
connoitre. They  brought  word  that  Ojeda  was 
several  leagues  distant  from  his  ships,  with  only 
fifteen  men,  employed  in  making  cassava  bread 
in  an  Indian  village.  Roldan  threw  himself  be- 
tween them  and  the  ships,  thinking  to  take  them 
by  surprise.  They  were  apprised,  however,  of 
his  approach  by  the  Indians,  with  whom  the  very 
name  of  Rcldan  inspired  terror,  from  his  late  ex- 
cesses in  Xaragua.  Ojeda  saw  his  clanger  ;  he 
supposed  Roldan  had  been  sent  in  pursuit  of  him, 
and  he  found  himself  cut  off  from  his  ships. 
With  his  usual  intrepidity  he  immediately  pre- 
sented himself  before  Roklan,  attended  merely  by 
half  a  dozen  followers.  The  latter  craftily  began 
by  conversing  on  general  topics.  He  then  in- 
quired into  his  motives  for  landing  on  the  island, 
particularly  on  that  remote  and  lonely  part,  with- 
out first  reporting  his  arrival  to  the  admiral. 
Ojeda  replied  that  he  had  been  on  a  voyage  of 
discovery,  and  had  put  in  there  in  distress,  to  re- 
pair his  ships  and  procure  provisions.  Roldan 
then  demanded,  in  the  name  of  the  government,  a 
sight  of  the  license  under  which  he  sailed.  Ojeda, 
who  knew  the  resolute  character  of  the  man  he 
had  to  deal  with,  restrained  his  natural  impetu- 
osity, and  replied  that  his  papers  were  on  board 
of  his  ship.  He  declared  his  intention,  on  depart- 
ing thence,  to  go  to  San  Domingo,  and  pay  his 
homage  to  the  admiral,  having  many  things  to 
tell  him  which  were  for  his  private  ear  alone.  He 
intimated  to  Roldan  that  the  admiral  was  in  com- 
plete disgrace  at  court ;  that  there  was  a  talk  of 
taking  from  him  his  command,  and  that  the 
queen,  his  patroness,  was  ill  beyond  all  hopes  of 
recovery.  This  intimation,  it  is  presumed,  was 
referred  to  by  Roldan  in  his  dispatches  to  the  ad- 
miral, wherein  he  mentioned  that  certain  things 
had  been  communicated  to  him  by  Ojeda,  which 
he  did  not  think  it  safe  to  confide  to  a  letter. 

Roldan  now  repaired  to  the  ships.  He  found 
several  persons  on  board  with  whom  he  was  ac- 
quainted, and  who  had  already  been  in  His- 
paniola.  They  confirmed  the  truth  of  what  Ojeda 
had  said,  and  showed  a  license  signed  by  the 
Bishop  of  Fonseca,  as  superintendent  of  the  affairs 
of  the  Indias,  authorizing  him  to  sail  on  a  voyage 
of  discovery.* 

It  appeared,  from  the  report  of  Ojeda  and  his 
followers,  that  the  glowing  accounts  sent  home 
by  Columbus  of  his  late  discoveries  on  the  coast 
of  Paria,  his  magnificent  speculations  with  respect 
to  the  riches  of  the  newly-found  country,  and  the 
specimen  of  pearls  transmitted  to  the  sovereigns, 
had  inflamed  the  cupidity  of  various  adventurers. 
Ojeda  happened  to  be  at  that  time  in  Spain.  He 
was  a  favorite  of  the  Bishop  of  Fonseca,  and  ob- 
tained a  sight  of  the  letter  written  by  the  admiral 
to  the  sovereigns,  and  the  charts  and  maps  of  his 
route  by  which  it  was  accompanied.  Ojeda  knew 
Columbus  to  be  embarrassed  by  the  seditions  of 
Hispaniola  ;  he  found,  by  his  conversations  with 
Fonseca  and  other  of  the  admiral's  enemies,  that 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  3. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


16* 


strong  doubts  and  jealousies  existed  in  the  mind 
of  the  king  with  respect  to  his  conduct,  and  that 
his  approaching  downfall  was  confidently  predict- 
ed. The  idea  of  taking  advantage  of  these  cir- 
cumstances struck  Ojeda,  and,  by  a  private  enter- 
prise, he  hoped  to  be  the  first  in  gathering  the 
wealth  of  these  newly-discovered  regions.  He 
communicated  his  project  to  his  patron,  Fonseca. 
The  latter  was  but  too  ready  for  anything  that 
might  defeat  the  plans  and  obscure  the  glory  of 
Columbus  ;  and  it  may  be  added  that  he  always 
showed  himself  more  disposed  to  patronize  mer- 
cenary adventurers  than  upright  and  high-minded 
men.  He  granted  Ojeda  every  facility  ;  furnish- 
ing him  with  copies  of  the  papers  and  charts  of 
Columbus,  by  which  to  direct  himself  in  his 
course,  and  a  letter  of  license  signed  with  his  own 
name,  though  not  with  that  of  the  sovereigns.  In 
this,  it  was  stipulated  that  he  should  not  touch  at 
any  land  belonging  to  the  King  of  Portugal,  nor 
any  that  had  been  discovered  by  Columbus  prior 
to  1495.  The  last  provision  shows  the  perfidious 
artifice  of  Fonseca,  as  it  left  Paria  and  the  Pearl 
Islands  free  to  the  visits  of  Ojeda,  they  having 
been  discovered  by  Columbus  subsequent  to  the 
designated  year.  The  ships  were  to  be  fitted  out 
at  the  charges  of  the  adventurers,  and  a  certain 
proportion  of  the  products  of  the  voyage  were  to 
be  rendered  to  the  crown. 

Under  this  license  Ojeda  fitted  out  four  ships  at 
Seville,  assisted  by  many  eager  and  wealthy 
speculators.  Among  the  number  was  the  cele- 
brated Amerigo  Vespucci,  a  Florentine  merchant, 
well  acquainted  with  geography  and  navigation. 
The  principal  pilot  of  the  expedition  was  Juan  de 
la  Cosa,  a  mariner  of  great  repute,  a  disciple  of 
the  admiral,  whom  he  had  accompanied  in  his 
first  voyage  of  discovery,  and  in  that  along  the 
southern  coast  of  Cuba,  and  round  the  island  of 
Jamaica.  There  were  several  also  of  the  mariners, 
and  Bartholomew  Roldan,  a  distinguished  pilot, 
who  had  been  with  Columbus  in  his  voyage  to 
Paria.*  Such  was  the  expedition  which,  by  a  sin- 
gular train  of  circumstances,  eventually  gave  the 
name  of  this  Florentine  merchant,  Amerigo  Ves- 
pucci, to  the  whole  of  the  New  World. 

This  expedition  had  sailed  in  May,  1499.  The 
adventurers  had  arrived  on  the  southern  continent, 
and  ranged  along  its  coast,  from  two  hundred 
leagues  east  of  the  Oronoco,  to  the  Gulf  of  Paria. 
Guided  by  the  charts  of  Columbus,  they  had 
passed  through  this  gulf,  and  through  the  Boca 
del  Dragon,  and  had  kept  along  westward  to  Cape 
de  la  Vela,  visiting  the  island  of  Margarita  and 
the  adjacent  continent,  and  discovering  the  Gulf 
of  Venezuela.  They  had  subsequently  touched  at 
the  Caribbee  Islands,  where  they  had  fought  with 
the  fierce  natives,  and  made  many  captives,  with 
the  intention  of  selling  them  in  the  slave-markets 
of  Spain.  Thence,  being  in  need  of  supplies,  they 
had  sailed  to  Hispaniola,  having  performed  the 
most  extensive  voyage  hitherto  made  along  the 
shores  of  the  New  World. f 

Having  collected  all  the  information  that  he 
could  obtain  concerning  these  voyagers,  their  ad- 
ventures and  designs,  and  trusting  to  the  declara- 
tion of  Ojeda,  that  he  should  proceed  forthwith  to 
present  himself  to  the  admiral,  Roldan  returned 
to  San  Domingo  to  render  a  report  of  his  mis- 
sion. 


*  Las  Casas. 

f  Herrera,    Hist.    Ind.,   decad.   5.   lib.   iv.   cap.   4. 
Mufloz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  part  in  MS.  unpublished. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

MANOEUVRES   OF  ROLDAN  AND   OJEDA. 

[1500.] 

WHEN  intelligence  was  brought  to  Columbus  o; 
the  nature  of  the  expedition  of  Ojeda,  and  the 
license  under  which  he  sailed,  he  considered  him- 
self deeply  aggrieved,  it  being  a  direct  infraction 
of  his  most  important  prerogatives,  and  sanctioned 
by  authority  which  ought  to  have  held  them 
sacred.  He  awaited  patiently,  however,  the  prom- 
ised visit  of  Alonso  de  Ojeda  to  obtain  fuller  ex- 
planations. Nothing  was  farther  from  the  inten- 
tion of  that  roving  commander  than  to  keep  such 
promise  :  he  had  made  it  merely  to  elude  the  vig- 
ilance of  Roldan.  As  soon  as  he  had  refitted  his 
vessels  and  obtained  a  supply  of  provisions,  he 
sailed  round  to  the  coast  of  Xaragua,  where  he 
arrived  in  February.  Here  he  was  well  received 
by  the  Spaniards  resident  in  that  province,  who 
supplied  all  his  wants.  Among  them  were  many 
of  the  late  comrades  of  Roldan  ;  loose,  random 
characters,  impatient  of  order  and  restraint,  and 
burning  with  animosity  against  the  admiral,  for 
having  again  brought  them  under  the  wholesome 
authority  of  the  laws. 

Knowing  the  rash  and  fearless  character  of 
Ojeda,  and  finding  that  there  were  jealousies  be- 
tween him  and  the  admiral,  they  hailed  him  as  a 
new  leader,  come  to  redress  their  fancied  griev- 
ances, in  place  of  Roldan,  whom  they  considered 
as  having  deserted  them.  They  made  clamorous 
complaints  to  Ojeda  of  the  injustice  of  the  ad- 
miral, whom  they  charged  with  withholding  from 
them  the  arrears  of  their  pay. 

Ojeda  was  a  hot-headed  man,  with  somewhat  of 
a  vaunting  spirit,  and  immediately  set  himself  up 
for  a  redresser  of  grievances.  It  is  said  also  that 
he  gave  himself  out  as  authorized  by  government, 
in  conjunction  with  Carvajal,  to  act  as  counsel- 
lors, or  rather  supervisors  of  the  admiral  ;  and 
that  one  of  the  first  measures  they  were  to  take, 
was  to  enforce  the  payment  of  all  salaries  due  to 
the  servants  of  the  crown.*  It  is  questionable, 
however,  whether  Ojeda  made  any  pretension  of 
the  kind,  which  could  so  readily  be  disproved,  and 
would  have  tended  to  disgrace  him  with  the  gov- 
ernment. It  is  probable  that  he  was  encouraged 
in  his  intermeddling,  chiefly  by  his  knowledge  of 
the  tottering  state  of  the  admiral's  favor  at  court, 
and  of  his  own  security  in  the  powerful  protection 
of  Fonseca.  He  may  have  imbibed  also  the  opin- 
ion, diligently  fostered  by  those  with  whom  he 
had  chiefly  communicated  in  Spain,  just  before 
his  departure,  that  these  people  had  been  driven 
to  extremities  by  the  oppression  of  the  admiral 
and  his  brothers.  Some  feeling  of  generosity, 
therefore,  may  have  mingled  with  his  usual  love 
of  action  and  enterprise,  when  he  proposed  to  re- 
dress all  their  wrongs,  put  himself  at  their  head, 
march  at  once  to  San  Domingo,  and  oblige  the  ad- 
miral to  pay  them  on  the  spot,  or  expel  him  from 
the  island. 

The  proposition  of  Ojeda  was  received  with  ac- 
clamations of  transport  by  some  of  the  rebels  ; 
others  made  objections.  Quarrels  arose  :  a 
ruffianly  scene  of  violence  and  brawl  ensued,  in 
which  several  were  killed  and  wounded  on  both 
sides  ;  but  the  party  for  the  expedition  to  San 
Domingo  remained  triumphant. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  84. 


1GG 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


Fortunately  for  the  peace  and  safety  of  the  ad- 
miral, Roldan  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  just 
at  this  critical  juncture,  attended  by  a  crew  of 
resolute  felFows.  He  had  been  dispatched  by  Co- 
lumbus to  watch  the  movements  of  Ojeda,  on 
hearing  of  his  arrival  on  the  coast  of  Xaragua. 
Apprised  of  the  violent  scenes  which  were  taking 
place,  Roldan,  when  on  the  way,  sent  to  his  old 
confederate,  Diego  de  Escobar,  to  follow  him  with 
all  the  trusty  force  he  could  collect.  They 
reached  Xaragua  within  a  day  of  each  other.  An 
instance  of  the  bad  faith  usual  between  bad  men 
was  now  evinced.  The  former  partisans  of  Rol- 
dan, finding  him  earnest  in  his  intention  of  serv- 
ing the  government,  and  that  there  was  no  hope 
of  engaging  him  in  their  new  sedition,  sought 
to  waylay  and  destroy  him  on  his  march,  but  his 
vigilance  and  celerity  prevented  them.* 

Ojeda,  when  he  heard  of  the  approach  of  Roldan 
and  Escobar,  retired  on  board  of  his  ships. 
Though  of  a  daring  spirit,  he  had  no  inclination, 
in  the  present  instance,  to  come  to  blows,  where 
there  was  a  certainty  of  desperate  fighting,  and 
no  gain  ;  and  where  he  must  raise  his  arm  against 
government.  Roldan  now  issued  such  remon- 
strances as  had  often  been  ineffectually  addressed 
to  himself.  He  wrote  to  Ojeda,  reasoning  with 
him  on  his  conduct,  and  the  confusion  he  wa§ 
producing  in  the  island,  and  inviting  him  on  shore 
to  an  amicable  arrangement  of  all  alleged  griev- 
ances. Ojeda,  knowing  the  crafty,  violent  char- 
acter of  Roldan,  disregarded  his  repeated  mes- 
sages, and  refused  to  venture  within  his  power. 
He  even  seized  one  of  his  messengers,  Diego  de 
Truxillo,  and  landing  suddenly  at  Xaragua,  car- 
ried off  another  of  his  followers,  named  Toribio 
de  Lenares,  both  of  whom  he  retained  in  irons, 
on  board  of  his  vessel,  as  hostages  for  a  certain 
Juan  Pintor,  a  one-armed  sailor,  who  had  desert- 
ed, threatening  to  hang  them  if  the  deserter  was 
not  given  up.f 

Various  manoeuvres  took  place  between  these 
two  well-matched  opponents  ;  each  wary  of  the 
address  and  prowess  of  the  other.  Ojeda  made 
sail,  and  stood  twelve  leagues  to  the  northward, 
to  the  province  of  Cahay,  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  fertile  parts  of  the  country,  and  inhabited 
by  a  kind  and  gentle  people.  Here  he  landed 
with  forty  men,  seizing  upon  whatever  he  could 
find  of  the  provisions  of  the  natives.  Roldan  and 
Escobar  followed  along  shore,  and  were  soon  at 
his  heels.  Roldan  then  dispatched  Escobar  in  a 
light  canoe,  paddled  swiftly  by  Indians,  who  ap- 
proaching within  hail  of  the  ship,  informed  Ojeda 
that,  since  he  would  not  trust  himself  on  shore, 
Roldan  would  come  and  confer  with  him  on 
board,  if  he  would  send  a  boat  for  him. 

Ojeda  now  thought  himself  secure  of  his  enemy  ; 
he  immediately  dispatched  a  boat  within  a  short 
distance  of  the  shore,  where  the  crew  lay  on  their 
oars,  requiring  Roldan  to  come  to  them.  "  How 
many  may  accompany  me  ?"  demanded  the  latter. 
"  Only  five  or  six,"  was  the  reply.  Upon  this 
Diego  de  Escobar  and  four  others  waded  to  the 
boat.  The  crew  refused  to  admit  more.  Roldan 
then  ordered  one  man  to  carry  him  to  the  barge, 
and  another  to  walk  by  his  side,  and  assist  him. 
By  this  stratagem,  his  party  was  eight  strong. 
The  instant  he  entered  the  boat,  he  ordered  the 
oarsmen  to  row  to  shore.  On  their  refusing,  he 
and  his  companions  attacked  them  sword  in  hand, 
wounded  several,  and  made  all  prisoners,  except- 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  ubi  sup. 

t  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  169,  MS. 


ing  an  Indian  archer,  who,  plunging  under  the 
water,  escaped  by  swimming. 

This  was  an  important  triumph  for  Roldan. 
Ojeda,  anxious  for  the  recovery  of  his  boat,  which 
was  indispensable  for  the  service  of  the  ship,  now- 
made  overtures  of  peace.  He  approached  the 
shore  in  his  remaining  boat  of  small  size,  taking 
with  him  his  principal  pilot,  an  arquebusier,  and 
four  oarsmen.  Roldan  entered  the  boat  he  had 
just  captured,  with  seven  rowers  and  fifteen  fight- 
ing men,  causing  fifteen  others  to  be  ready  on 
shore  to  embark  in  a  large  canoe,  in  case  of  need. 
A  characteristic  interview  took  place  between 
these  doughty  antagonists,  each  keeping  warily 
on  his  guard.  Their  conference  was  carried  on 
at  a  distance.  Ojeda  justified  his  hostile  move- 
ments by  alleging  that  Roldan  had  come  with  an 
armed  force  to  seize  him.  This  the  latter  posi- 
tively denied,  promising  him  the  most  amicable 
reception  from  the  admiral,  in  case  he  would  re- 
pair to  San  Domingo.  An  arrangement  was  at 
length  effected  ;  the  boat  was  restored,  and  mu- 
tual restitution  of  the  men  took  place,  with  the 
exception  of  Juan  Pintor,  the  one-armed  deserter, 
who  had  absconded  ;  and  on  the  following  day 
Ojeda,  according  to  agreement,  set  sail  to  leave 
the  island,  threatening,  however,  to  return  at  a 
future  time  with  more  ships  and  men.* 

Roldan  waited  in  the  neighborhood,  doubting 
the  truth  of  his  departure.  In  the  course  of  a  tew 
days  word  was  brought  that  Ojeda  had  landed 
on  a  distant  part  of  the  coast.  He  immediately 
pursued  him  with  eighty  men,  in  canoes,  sending 
scouts  by  land.  Before  he  arrived  at  the  place, 
Ojeda  had  again  made  sail,  and  Roldan  saw  and 
heard  no  more  of  him.  Las  Casas  asserts,  how- 
ever, that  Ojeda  departed  either  to  some  remote 
district  of  Hispaniola,  or  to  the  island  of  Porto 
Rico,  where  he  made  up  what  he  called  his  Cav- 
algada,  or  drove  of  slaves,  carrying  off  numbers 
of  the  unhappy  natives,  whom  he  sold  in  the  slave- 
market  of  Cadiz.f 


CHAPTER   VII. 

CONSPIRACY   OF  GUEVARA   AND  MOXICA. 
[1500.] 

WHEN  men  have  been  accustomed  to  act  falsely, 
they  take  great  merit  to  themselves  for  an  exertion 
of  common  honesty.  The  followers  of  Roldan 
were  loud  in  trumpeting  forth  their  unwonted 
loyalty,  and  the  great  services  they  had  rendered 
to  government  in  driving  Ojeda  from  the  island. 
Like  all  reformed  knaves,  they  expected  that  their 
good  conduct  would  be  amply  rewarded.  Look- 
ing upon  their  leader  as  having  everything  in  his 
gift,  and  being  well  pleased  with  the  delightful 
province  of  Cahay,  they  requested  him  to  share 
the  land  among  them,  that  they  might  settle 
there.  Roldan  would  have  had  no  hesitation  in 
granting  their  request,  had  it  been  made  during 
his  freebooting  career  ;  but  he  was  now  anxious 
to  establish  a  character  for  adherence  to  the  laws. 
He  declined,  therefore,  acceding  to  their  wishes, 
until  sanctioned  by  the  admiral.  Knowing,  how- 
ever, that  he  had  fostered  a  spirit  among  these 
men  which  it  was  dangerous  to  contradict,  and 
that  their  rapacity,  by  long  indulgence,  did  not 
admit  of  delay,  he  shared  among  them  certain 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Nurse  of  Prince  Juan, 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  169. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


167 


lands  of  his  own,  in  the  territory  of  his  ancient 
host  Behechio,  cacique  of  Xaragua.  He  then 
wrote  to  the  admiral  for  permission  to  return  to 
San  Domingo,  and  received  a  letter  in  reply,  giv- 
ing him  many  thanks  and  commendations  for  the 
diligence  and  address  which  he  had  manifested, 
but  requesting  him  to  remain  for  a  time  in  Xara- 
gua, lest  Ojeda  should  be  yet  hovering  about  the 
coast,  and  disposed  to  make  another  descent  in 
that  province. 

The  troubles  of  the  island  were  not  yet  at  an 
end,  but  were  destined  again  to  break  forth,  and 
from  somewhat  of  a  romantic  cause.  There  ar- 
rived about  this  time,  at  Xaragua,  a  young  cava- 
lier of  noble  family,  named  Don  Hernando  de 
Guevara.  He  possessed  an  agreeable  person  and 
winning  manners,  but  was  headstrong  in  his  pas- 
sions and  dissolute  in  his  principles.  He  was 
cousin  to  Adrian  de  Moxica,  one  of  the  most  ac- 
tive ringleaders  in  the  late  rebellion  of  Roldan, 
and  had  conducted  himself  with  such  licentious- 
ness at  San  Domingo  that  Columbus  had  banish- 
ed him  from  the  island.  There  being  no  other 
opportunity  of  embarking,  he  had  been  sent  to 
Xaragua,  to  return  to  Spain  in  one  of  the  ships  of 
Ojeda,  but  arrived  after  their  departure.  Roldan 
received  him  favorably,  on  account  of  his  old  com- 
rade, Adrian  de  Moxica,  and  permitted  him  to 
choose  some  place  of  residence  until  further  or- 
ders concerning  him  should  arrive  from  the  ad- 
miral. He  chose  the  province  of  Cahay,  at  the 
place  where  Roldan  had  captured  the  boat  of 
Ojeda.  It  was  a  delightful  part  of  that  beautiful 
coast  ;  but  the  reason  why  Guevara  chose  it,  was 
the  vicinity  to  Xaragua.  While  at  the  latter  place, 
in  consequence  of  the  indulgence  of  Roldan,  he 
was  favorably  received  at  the  house  of  Anacaona, 
the  widow  of  Caonabo,  and  sister  of  the  cacique 
Behechio.  That  remarkable  woman  still  retained 
her  partiality  to  the  Spaniards,  notwithstanding 
the  disgraceful  scenes  which  had  passed  before 
her  eyes  ;  and  the  native  dignity  of  her  character 
had  commanded  the  respect  even  of  the  dissolute 
rabble  which  infested  her  province.  By  her  late 
husband,  the  cacique  Caonabo,  she  had  a  daughter 
named  Higuenamota,  just  grown  up,  and  greatly 
admired  for  her  beauty.  Guevara,  being  often  in 
company  with  her,  a  mutual  attachment  ensued. 
It  was  to  be  near  her  that  he  chose  Cahay  as  a 
residence,  at  a  place  where  his  cousin  Adrian  de 
Moxica  kept  a  number  of  dogs  and  hawks,  to  be 
employed  in  the  chase.  Guevara  delayed  his  de- 
parture. Roldan  discovered  the  reason,  and  warn- 
ed him  to  desist  from  his  pretensions  and  leave 
the  province.  Las  Casas  intimates  that  Roldan  was 
himself  attached  to  the  young  Indian  beauty,  and 
jealous  of  her  preference  of  his  rival.  Anacaona, 
the  mother,  pleased  with  the  gallant  appearance 
and  ingratiating  manners  of  the  youthful  cavalier, 
favored  his  attachment,  especially  as  he  sought 
her  daughter  in  marriage.  Notwithstanding  the 
orders  of  Roldan,  Guevara  still  lingered  in  Xara- 
gua, in  the  house  of  Anacaona  ;  and  sending  for 
a  priest,  desired  him  to  baptize  his  intended 
bride. 

Hearing  of  this  Roldan  sent  for  Guevara,  and 
rebuked  him  sharply  for  remaining  at  Xaragua, 
and  attempting  to  deceive  a  person  of  the  impor- 
tance of  Anacaona,  by  ensnaring  the  affections  of 
her  daughter.  Guevara  avowed  the  strength  of 
his  passion,  and  his  correct  intentions,  and  en- 
treated permission  to  remain  Roldan  was  inflex- 
ible. He  alleged  that  some  evil  construction 
might  be  put  on  his  conduct  by  the  admiral  ;  but 


it  is  probable  his  true  motive  was  a  desire  to  send 
away  a  rival,  who  interfered  with  his  own  amor- 
ous designs.  Guevara  obeyed  ;  but  had  scarce 
!  been  three  days  at  Cahay,  when  unable  to  re- 
main longer  absent  from  the  object  of  his  passion, 
he  returned  to  Xaragua,  accompanied  by  four  or 
five  friends,  and  concealed  himself  in  the  dwelling 
of  Anacaona.  Roldan,  who  was  at  that  time  con- 
fined by  a  malady  in  his  eyes,  being  apprised  of 
his  return,  sent  orders  for  him  to  depart  instantly 
to  Cahay.  The  young  cavalier  assumed  a  tone  of 
defiance.  He  warned  Roldan  not  to  make  foes 
when  he  had  such  great  need  of  friends  ;  for  to 
his  certain  knowledge,  the  admiral  intended  to 
behead  him.  Upon  this,  Roldan  commanded  him 
to  quit  that  part  of  the  island,  and  repair  to  San 
Domingo,  to  present  himself  before  the  admiral. 
The  thoughts  of  being  banished  entirely  from  the 
vicinity  of  his  Indian  beauty  checked  the  vehe- 
mence of  the  youth.  He  changed  his  tone  of 
haughty  defiance  into  one  of  humble  supplication  ; 
and  Roldan,  appeased  by  this  submission,  per- 
mitted him  to  remain  for  the  present  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

Roldan  had  instilled  wilfulness  and  violence 
into  the  hearts  of  his  late  followers,  and  now  was 
doomed  to  experience  the  effects.  Guevara,  in- 
censed at  his  opposition  to  his  passion,  meditated 
revenge.  He  soon  made  a  party  among  the  old 
comrades  of  Roldan,  who  detested,  as  a  magis- 
trate, the  man  they  had  idolized  as  a  leader.  It 
was  concerted  to  rise  suddenly  upon  him,  and 
either  to  kill  him  or  put  out  his  eyes.  Roldan 
was  apprised  of  the  plot,  and  proceeded  with  his 
usual  promptness.  Guevara  was  seized  in  the 
dwelling  of  Anacaona,  in  the  presence  of  his  in- 
tended bride  ;  seven  of  his  accomplices  were  like- 
wise arrested.  Roldan  immediately  sent  an  ac- 
count of  the  affair  to  the  admiral,  professing,  at 
present,  to  do  nothing  without  his  authority,  and 
declaring  himself  not  competent  to  judge  impar- 
tially in  the  case.  Columbus,  who  was  at  that 
time  at  Fort  Conception,  in  the  Vega,  ordered  the 
prisoner  to  be  conducted  to  the  fortress  of  San 
Domingo. 

The  vigorous  measures  of  Roldan  against  his 
old  comrades  produced  commotions  in  the  island. 
When  Adrian  de  Moxica  heard  that  his  cousin 
Guevara  was  a  prisoner,  and  that,  too,  by  com- 
mand of  his  former  confederate,  he  was  highly- 
exasperated,  and  resolved  on  vengeance.  Hasten- 
ing to  Bonao,  the  old  haunt  of  rebellion,  he  ob- 
tained the  co-operation  of  Pedro  Requelme,  the 
recently  appointed  alcalde.  They  went  round 
among  their  late  companions  in  rebellion,  who 
had  received  lands  and  settled  in  various  parts  of 
the  Vega,  working  upon  their  ready  passions,  and 
enlisting  their  feelings  in  the  cause  of  an  old  com- 
rade. These  men  seemed  to  have  had  an  irresist- 
ible propensity  to  sedition.  Guevara  was  a  favor- 
ite with  them  all  ;  the  charms  of  the  Indian  beauty 
had  probably  their  influence  ;  and  the  conduct  of 
Roldan  was  pronounced  a  tyrannical  interference, 
to  prevent  a  marriage  agreeable  to  all  parties,  and 
beneficial  to  the  colony.  There  is  no  being  so 
odious  to  his  former  associates  as  a  relormed  rob- 
ber, or  a  rebel,  enlisted  in  the  service  of  justice. 
The  old  scenes  of  faction  were  renewed  ;  the 
weapons  which  had  scarce  been  hung  up  from  the 
recent  rebellions,  were  again  snatched  down  from 
the  walls,  and  rash  preparations  were  made  lor 
action.  Moxica  soon  saw  a  body  of  daring  and 
reckless  men  ready,  with  horse  and  weapon,  to 
follow  him  on  any  desperate  enterprise.  Blinded 


168 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


by  the  impunity  which  had  attended  their  former 
outrages,  he  now  threatened  acts  of  greater  atroc- 
ity, meditating,  not  merely  the  rescue  of  his 
cousin,  but  the  death  of  Roldan  and  the  admiral. 

Columbus  was  at  Fort  Conception,  with  an  in- 
considerable force,  when  this  dangerous  plot  was 
concerted  in  his  very  neighborhood.  Not  dream- 
ing of.  any  further  hostilities  from  men  on  whom 
he  had  lavished  favors, .he  would  doubtless  have 
fallen  into  their  power,  had  not  intelligence  been 
brought  him  of  the  plot  by  a  deserter  from  the 
conspirators.  He  saw  at  a  glance  the  perils  by 
which  he  was  surrounded,  and  the  storm  about 
to  burst  upon  the  island.  It  was  no  longer  a  time 
ior  lenient  measures ;  he  determined  to  strike  a 
blow  which  should  crush  the  very  head  of  rebel- 
lion. 

Taking  with  him  but  six  or  seven  trusty  ser- 
vants, and  three  esquires,  all  well-armed,  he  set 
out  in  the  night  for  the  place  where  the  ringlead- 
ers were  quartered.  Confiding  probably  in  the 
secrecy  of  their  plot,  and  the  late  passiveness  of 
the  admiral,  they  appear  to  have  been  perfectly 
unguarded.  Columbus  came  upon  them  by  sur- 
prise, seized  Moxica  and  several  of  his  principal 
confederates,  and  bore  them  off  to  Fort  Concep- 
tion. The  moment  was  critical  ;  the  Vega  was 
ripe  for  a  revolt  ;  he  had  the  fomenter  of  the  con- 
spiracy in  his  power,  and  an  example  was  called 
for,  that  should  strike  terror  into  the  factious. 
He  ordered  Moxica  to  be  hanged  on  the  top  of  the 
fortress.  The  latter  entreated  to  be  allowed  to 
confess  himself  previous  to  execution.  A  priest 
was  summoned.  The  miserable  Moxica,  who 
had  been  so  arrogant  in  rebellion,  lost  all  courage 
at  the  near  approach  of  death.  He  delayed  to 
confess,  beginning  and  pausing,  and  recommenc- 
ing, and  again  hesitating,  as  if  he  hoped,  by  whil- 
ing  away  time,  to  give  a  chance  for  rescue.  In- 
stead of  confessing  his  own  sins,  he  accused  others 
of  criminality,  who  were  known  to  be  innocent ; 
until  Columbus,  incensed  at  this  falsehood  and 
treachery,  and  losing  all  patience,  in  his  mingled 
indignation  and  scorn,  ordered  the  dastard  wretch 
to  be  swung  off  from  the  battlements.* 

This  sudden  act  of  severity  was  promptly  fol- 
lowed up.  Several  of  the  accomplices  of  Moxica 
were  condemned  to  death  and  thrown  in  irons  to 
await  their  fate.  Before  the  conspirators  had  time 
to  recover  from  their  astonishment,  Pedro  Requel- 
me  was  taken,  with  several  of  his  compeers,  in 
his  ruffian  den  at  Bonao,  and  conveyed  to  the 
fortress  of  San  Domingo  ;  where  was  also  confined 
the  original  mover  of  this  second  rebellion,  Her- 
nando  de  Guevara,  the  lover  of  the  young  Indian 
princess.  These  unexpected  acts  of  rigor,  pro- 
ceeding from  a  quarter  which  had  been  long  so 
lenient,  had  the  desired  effect.  The  conspirators 
fled  for  the  most  part  to  Xaragua,  their  old  and 
favorite  retreat.  They  were  not  suffered  to  con- 
gregate there  again,  and  concert  new  seditions. 
The  Adelantado,  seconded  by  Roldan,  pursued 
them  with  his  characteristic  rapidity  of  movement 
and  vigor  of  arm.  It  has  been  said  that  he  car- 
ried a  priest  with  him,  in  order  that,  as  he  arrest- 
ed delinquents,  they  might  be  confessed  and 
hanged  upon  the  spot  ;  but  the  more  probable  ac- 
count is  that  he  transmitted  them  prisoners  to 
San  Domingo.  He  had  seventeen  of  them  at  one 
time  confined  in  one  common  dungeon,  awaiting 


*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  5. 


their  trial,  while   he   continued   in   indefatigable 
pursuit  of  the  remainder.* 

These  were  prompt  and  severe  measures  ;  but 
when  we  consider  how  long  Columbus  had  borne 
with  these  men  ;  how  much  he  had  ceded  and 
sacrificed  to  them  ;  how  he  had  been  interrupted 
in  all  his  great  undertakings,  and  the  welfare  of 
the  colony  destroyed  by  their  contemptible  and 
seditious  brawls  ;  how  they  had  abused  his  lenity, 
defied  his  authority,  and  at  length  attempted  his 
life — we  cannot  wonder  that  he  should  at  last  let 
fall  the  sword  of  justice,  which  he  had  hitherto 
held  suspended. 

The  power  of  faction  was  now  completely  sub- 
clued,  and  the  good  effects  of  the  various'meas- 
ures  taken  by  Columbus,  since  his  last  arrival,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  island,  began  to  appear.  The 
Indians,  seeing  the  inefficacy  of  resistance,  sub- 
mitted to  the  yoke.  Many  gave  signs  of  civiliza- 
tion, having,  in  some  instances,  adopted  clothing 
and  embraced  Christianity.  Assisted  by  their  la- 
bors the  Spaniards  now  cultivated  their  lands  dili- 
gently, and  there  was  every  appearance  of  settled 
and  regular  prosperity. 

Columbus  considered  all  this  happy  change  as 
brought  about  by  the  especial  intervention  of 
Heaven.  In  a  letter  to  Dofta  Juana  de  la  Torre,  a 
lady  of  distinction,  aya  or  nurse  of  Prince  Juan, 
he  gives  an  instance  of  those  visionary  fancies  to 
which  he  was  subject  in  times  of  illness  and  anx- 
iety. In  the  preceding  winter,  he  says,  about  the 
festival  of  Christmas,  when  menaced  by  Indian 
war  and  domestic  rebellion,  when  distrustful  of 
those  around  him  and  apprehensive  of  disgrace 
at  court,  he  sank  for  a  time  into  complete  de- 
spondency. In  this  hour  of  gloom,  when  aban- 
doned to  despair,  he  heard  in  the  night  a  voice  ad- 
dressing him  in  words  of  comfort,  "  O  man  of  lit- 
tle faith  !  why  art  thou  cast  down  ?  Fear  noth- 
ing, I  will  provide  for  thee.  The  seven  years  of 
the  term  of  gold  are  not  expired  ;  in  that,  and  in 
all  other  things,  I  will  take  care  of  thee." 

The  seven  years  term  of  gold  here  mentioned 
alludes  to  a  vow  made  by  Columbus  on  discover- 
ing the  New  World,  and  recorded  by  him  in  a 
letter  to  the  sovereigns,  that  within  seven  years 
he  would  furnish,  from  the  profits  of  his  discover- 
ies, fifty  thousand  toot  and  five  thousand  horse,  for 
the  deliverance  of  the  holy  sepulchre,  and  an  ad- 
ditional force  of  like  amount,  within  five  years 
afterward. 

The  comforting  assurance  given  him  by  the 
voice  was  corroborated,  he  says,  that  very  day, 
by  intelligence  received  of  the  discovery  of  a  large 
tract  of  country  rich  in  mines. f  This  imaginary 
promise  of  divine  aid  thus  mysteriously  given,  ap- 
peared to  him  at  present  in  still  greater  progress 
of  fulfilment.  The  troubles  and  dangers  of  the 
island  had  been  succeeded  by  tranquillity.  He 
now  anticipated  the  prosperous  prosecution  of  his 
favorite  enterprise,  so  long  interrupted — the  ex- 
ploring of  the  regions  of  Paria,  and  the  establish- 
ment of  a  fishery  in  the  Gulf  of  Pearls.  How  il- 
lusive were  his  hopes  !  At  this  moment  events 
were  maturing  which  were  to  overwhelm  him 
with  distress,  strip  him  of  his  honors,  and  render 
him  comparatively  a  wreck  tor  the  remainder  of 
his  davs  ! 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  170,  MS.  Her- 
rera, decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  7. 

t  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Nurse  of  Prince  Juan. 
Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  84. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


169 


BOOK  XIII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

REPRESENTATIONS  AT  COURT  AGAINST  COLUMBUS 
— BOBADILLA  EMPOWERED  TO  EXAMINE  INTO 
HIS  CONDUCT. 

[I500.] 

WHILE  Columbus  was  involved  in  a  series  of 
difficulties  in  the  factious  island  of  Hispaniola,  his 
Enemies  were  but  too  successful  in  undermining 
his  reputation  in  the  court  of  Spain.  The  report 
brought  by  Ojeda  of  his  anticipated  disgrace  was 
not  entirely  unfounded  ;  the  event  was  considered 
near  at  hand,  and  every  perfidious  exertion  was 
made  to  accelerate  it.  Every  vessel  from  the  New 
World  came  freighted  with  complaints,  represent- 
ing Columbus  and  his  brothers  as  new  men,  un- 
accustomed to  command,  inflated  by  their  sudden 
rise  from  obscurity  ;  arrogant  and  insulting  tow- 
ard men  of  birth  and  lofty  spirit  ;  oppressive  of 
the  common  people,  and  cruel  in  their  treatment 
of  the  natives.  The  insidious  and  illiberal  insin- 
uation was  continually  urged,  that  they  were  for- 
eigners, who  could  have  no  interest  in  the  glory 
of  Spain,  or  the  prosperity  of  Spaniards  ;  and  con- 
temptible as  this  plea  may  seem,  it  had  a  power- 
ful effect.  Columbus  was  even  accused  of  a  de- 
sign to  cast  off  all  allegiance  to  Spain,  and  either 
make  himself  sovereign  of  the  countries  he  had 
discovered,  or  yield  them  into  the  hands  of  some 
other  power  :  a  slander,  which,  however  extrava- 
gant, was  calculated  to  startle  the  jealous  mind  of 
Ferdinand. 

It  is  true  that  by  every  ship  Columbus  likewise 
sent  home  statements,  written  with  the  frankness 
and  energy  of  truth,  setting  forth  the  real  cause 
and  nature  of  the  distractions  of  the  island,  and 
pointing  out  and  imploring  remedies,  which,  if 
properly  applied,  might  have  been  efficacious. 
His  letters,  however,  arriving  at  distant  intervals, 
made  but  single  and  transient  impressions  on  the 
roval  mind,  which  were  speedily  effaced  by  the 
influence  of  daily  and  active  misrepresentation. 
His  enemies  at  court,  having  continual  access  to 
the  sovereigns,  were  enabled  to  place  everything 
urged  against  him  in  the  strongest  point  of  view, 
while  they  secretly  neutralized  the  force  of  his 
vindications.  They  used  a  plausible  logic  to 
prove  either  bad  management  or  bad  faith  on  his 
part.  There  was  an*  incessant  drain  upon  the 
mother  country  for  the  support  of  the  colony. 
Was  this  compatible  with  the  extravagant  pictures 
he  had  drawn  of  the  wealth  of  the  island,  and  its 
golden  mountains,  in  which  he  had  pretended  to 
tind  the  Ophir  of  ancient  days,  the  source  of  all 
the  riches  of  Solomon?  They  inferred  that  he 
had  either  deceived  the  sovereigns  by  designing 
exaggerations,  or  grossly  wronged  them  by  mal- 
practices, or  was  totally  incapable  of  the  duties  of 
government. 

The  disappointment  of  Ferdinand,  in  finding 
his  newly-discovered  possessions  a  source  of  ex- 
pense instead  of  profit,  was  known  to  press  sorely 
on  his  mind.  The  wars,  dictated  by  his  ambition, 
had  straitened  his  resources,  and  involved  him  in 
perplexities.  He  had  looked  with  confidence  to 
the  New  World  for  relief,  and  for  ample  nieans 
to  pursue  his  triumphs  ;  and  grew  impatient  at 
the  repeated  demands  which  it  occasioned  on  his 
scanty  treasury.  For  the  purpose  of  irritating  his 


feelings  and  heightening  his  resentment,  every 
disappointed  and  repining  man  who  returned 
from  the  colony  was  encouraged  by  the  hostile  fac- 
tion, to  put  in  claims  for  pay  withheld  by  Colum- 
bus, or  losses  sustained  in  his  service.  This  was 
especially  the  case  with  the  disorderly  ruffians 
shipped  off  to  free  the  island  from  sedition.  Find- 
ing their  way  to  the  court  at  Granada,  they  follow- 
ed the  king  when  he  rode  out,  filling  the  air  with 
their  complaints,  and  clamoring  for  their  pay.  At 
one  time  about  fifty  of  these  vagabonds  found 
their  way  into  the  inner  court  of  the  Alhambra, 
under  the  royal  apartments  ;  holding  up  bunches 
of  grapes  as  the  meagre  diet  left  them  by  their 
poverty,  and  railing  aloud  at  the  deceits  of  Colum- 
bus and  the  cruel  neglect  of  government.  The 
two  sons  of  Columbus,  who  were  pages  to  the 
queen,  happening  to  pass  by,  they  followed  them 
with  imprecations,  exclaiming,  "  There  go  the 
sons  of  the  admiral,  the  whelps  of  him  who  dis- 
covered the  land  of  vanity  and  delusion,  the  grave 
of  Spanish  hidalgos."* 

The  incessant  repetition  of  falsehood  will  grad- 
ually wear  its  way  into  the  most  candid  mind.  Is- 
abella herself  began  to  entertain  doubts  respect- 
ing the  conduct  of  Columbus.  Where  there  was 
such  universal  and  incessant  complaint,  it  seemed 
reasonable  to  conclude  that  there  must  exist  some 
fault.  If  Columbus  and  his  brothers  were  up- 
right, they  might  be  injudicious  ;  and,  in  govern- 
ment, mischief  is  oftener  produced  through  error 
of  judgment  than  iniquity  of  design.  The  letters 
written  by  Columbus  himself  presented  a  lament- 
able picture  of  the  confusion  of  the  island. 
Might  not  this  arise  from  the  weakness  and  inca- 
pacity of  the  rulers  ?  Even  granting  that  the  prev- 
alent abuses  arose  in  a  great  measure  from  the 
enmity  of  the  people  to  the  admiral  and  his  broth- 
ers, and  their  prejudices  against  them  as  foreign- 
ers, was  it  safe  to  intrust  so  important  and  distant 
a  command  to  persons  so  unpopular  with  the 
community  ? 

These  considerations  had  much  weight  in  the 
candid  mind  of  Isabella,  but  they  were  all-power- 
ful with  the  cautious  and  jealous  Ferdinand.  He 
had  never  regarded  Columbus  with  real  cordiali- 
ty ;  and  ever  since  he  had  ascertained  the  impor- 
tance of  his  discoveries,  had  regretted  the  exten- 
sive powers  vested  in  his  hands.  The  excessive 
clamors  which  had  arisen  during  the  brief  admin- 
istration of  the  Adelantado  and  the  breaking  out 
of  the  faction  of  Roldan  at  length  determined  the 
king  to  send  out  some  person  of  consequence  and 
ability  to  investigate  the  affairs  of  the  colony,  and 
if  necessary,  for  its  safety,  to  take  upon  himself 
the  command.  This  important  and  critical  meas- 
ure it  appears  had  been  decided  upon,  and  the 
papers  and  powers  actually  drawn  out,  in  the 
spring  of  1499.  It  was  not  carried  into  effect,  how- 
ever, until  the  following  year.  Various  reasons 
have  been  assigned  for  this  delay.  The  impor- 
tant services  rendered  by  Columbus  in  the  discov- 
ery of  Paria  and  the  Pearl  Islands  may  have  had 
some  effect  on  the  royal  mind.  The  necessity  of 
fitting  out  an  armament  just  at  that  moment,  to 
co-operate  with  the  Venetians  against  the  Turks  ; 
the  menacing  movements  of  the  new  king  of 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  85. 


170 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


France,  Louis  XII.;  the  rebellion  of  the  Moors  of 
the  Alpuxarra  mountains,  in  the  lately  conquered 
kingdom  of  Granada — all  these  have  been  alleged 
as  reasons  for  postponing  a  measure  which  called 
for  much  consideration,  and  might  have  important 
effects  upon  the  newly  discovered  possessions.* 
The  most  probable  reason,  however,  was  the 
strong  disinclination  of  Isabella  to  take  so  harsh  a 
step  against  a  man  for  whom  she  entertained  such 
ardent  gratitude  and  high  admiration. 

At  length  the  arrival  of  the  ships  with  the  late 
followers  of  Roldan,  according  to  their  capitula- 
tion, brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  It  is  true  that 
Ballester  and  Barrantes  came  in  these  ships,  to 
place  the  affairs  of  the  island  in  a  proper  light  ; 
but  they  brought  out  a  host  of  witnesses  in  favor 
of  Roldan,  and  letters  written  by  himself  and  his 
confederates,  attributing  all  their  late  conduct  to 
the  tyranny  of  Columbus  and  his  brothers.  Un- 
fortunately the  testimony  of  the  rebels  had  the 
greatest  weight  with  Ferdinand  ;  and  there  was  a 
circumstance  in  the  case  which  suspended  for  a 
time  the  friendship  of  Isabella,  hitherto  the  great- 
est dependence  of  Columbus. 

Having  a  maternal  interest  in  the  welfare  of  the 
natives,  the  queen  had  been  repeatedly  offended 
by  what  appeared  to  her  pertinacity  on  the  part 
of  Columbus,  in  continuing  to  make  slaves  of 
those  taken  in  warfare,  in  contradiction  to  her 
known  wishes.  The  same  ships  which  brought 
home  the  companions  of  Roldan,  brought  likewise 
a  great  number  of  slaves.  Some,  Columbus  had 
been  obliged  to  grant  to  these  men  by  the  articles 
of  capitulation  ;  others  they  had  brought  away 
clandestinely.  Among  them  were  several  daugh- 
ters of  caciques,  seduced  away  from  their  families 
and  their  native  island  by  these  profligates.  Some 
of  these  were  in  a  state  of  pregnancy,  others  had 
new-born  infants.  The  gifts  and  transfers  of 
these  unhappy  beings  were  all  ascribed  to  the  will 
of  Columbus,  and  represented  to  Isabella  in  the 
darkest  colors.  Her  sensibility  as  a  woman,  and 
her  dignity  as  a  queen,  were  instantly  in  arms. 
"  What  power,"  exclaimed  she  indignantly,  "  has 
the  admiral  to  give  away  my  vassals  ?"  t  Deter- 
mined, by  one  decided  and  peremptory  act,  to 
show  her  abhorrence  of  these  outrages  upon  hu- 
manity, she  ordered  all  the  Indians  to  be  restored 
to  their  country  and  friends.  Nay,  more  ;  her 
measure  was  retrospective.  She  commanded  that 
those  formerly  sent  to  Spain  by  the  admiral 
should  be  sought  out  and  sent  back  to  Hispaniola. 
Unfortunately  for  Columbus,  at  this  very  juncture, 
in  one  of  his  letters  he  advised  the  continuance 
of  Indian  slavery  for  some  time  longer,  as  a  meas- 
ure important  for  the  welfare  of  the  colony.  This 
contributed  to  heighten  the  indignation  of  Isa- 
bella, and  induced  her  no  longer  to  oppose  the 
sending  out  of  a  commission  to  investigate  his 
conduct,  and,  if  necessary,  to  supersede  him  in 
command. 

Ferdinand  was  exceedingly  embarrassed  in  ap- 
pointing this  commission, between  his  sense  of  what 
was  due  to  the  character  and  services  of  Columbus, 
and  his  anxiety  to  retract  with  delicacy  the  powers 
vested  in  him.  A  pretext  at  length  was  furnished 
by  the  recent  request  of  the  admiral  that  a  person 
of  talents  and  probity,  learned  in  the  law,  might 
be  sent  out  to  act  as  chief  judge  ;  and  that  an 
impartial  umpire  might  be  appointed,  to  decide 
in  the  affair  between  himself  and  Roldan.  Fer- 
dinand proposed  to  consult  his  wishes,  but  to 


*  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  part  unpublished, 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  i. 


unite  those  two  officers  in  one  ;  and  as  the  person 
he  appointed  would  have  to  decide  in  matters  touch- 
ing the  highest  functions  of  the  admiral  and  his 
brothers,  he  was  empowered,  should  he  find  them 
culpable,  to  supersede  them  in  the  government ;  a 
singular  mode  of  insuring  partiality  ! 

The  person  chosen  for  this  momentous  and  deli- 
cate office  was  Don  Francisco  de  Bobadilla,  an 
officer  of  the  royal  household,  and  a  commander 
of  the  military  and  religious  order  of  Calatrava. 
Oviedo  pronounces  him  a  very  honest  and  relig- 
ious man  ;  *  but  he  is  represented  by  others,  and 
his  actions  corroborate  the  description,  as  needy, 
passionate,  and  ambitious — three  powerful  objec- 
tions to  his  exercising  the  rights  of  judicature  in  a 
case  requiring  the  utmost  patience,  candor,  and 
circumspection,  and  where  the  judge  was  to  de- 
rive wealth  and  power  from  the  conviction  of  one 
of  the  parties. 

The  authority  vested  in  Bobadilla  is  defined  in 
letters  from  the  sovereigns  still  extant,  and  which 
deserve  to  be  noticed  chronologically  ;  for  the 
royal  intentions  appear  to  have  varied  with  times 
and  circumstances.  The  first  was  dated  on  the 
2ist  of  March,  1499,  and  mentions  the  complaint 
of  the  admiral,  that  an  alcalde,  and  certain  other 
persons  had  risen  in  rebellion  against  him. 
"  Wherefore,"  adds  the  letter,  "  we  order  you  to 
inform  yourself  of  the  truth  of  the  foregoing  ;  to 
ascertain  who  and  what  persons  they  were  who 
rose  against  the  said  admiral  and  our  magistracy, 
and  for  what  cause  ;  and  what  robberies  and 
other  injuries  they  have  committed  ;  and  further- 
more, to  extend  your  inquiries  to  all  other  matters 
relating  to  the  premises  ;  and  the  information  ob- 
tained, and  the  truth  known,  whomsoever  you 
find  culpable,  arrest  their  persons,  and  seques- 
trate their  effects  ;  and  thus  taken,  proceed 
against  them  and  the  absent,  both  civilly  and 
criminally,  and  impose  and  inflict  such  fines  and 
punishments  as  you  may  think  fit."  To  carry  this 
into  effect,  Bobadilla  was  authorized,  in  case  of 
necessity,  to  call  in  the  assistance  of  the  admiral, 
and  of  all  other  persons  in  authority. 

The  powers  here  given  are  manifestly  directed 
merely  against  the  rebels,  and  in  consequence  ot 
the  complaints  of  Columbus.  Another  letter, 
dated  on  the  2ist  of  May,  two  months  subse- 
quently, is  of  quite  different  purport.  It  makes  no 
mention  of  Columbus,  but  is  addressed  to  the  vari- 
ous functionaries  and  men  of  property  of  the 
islands  and  Terra  Firma,  informing  them  of  the 
appointment  of  Bobadilla  to  the  government,  with 
full  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction.  Among  the 
powers  specified,  is  the  following  :  "  It  is  our  will, 
that  it  the  said  commander,  Francisco  de  Boba- 
dilla, should  think  it  necessary  for  our  service,  and 
the  purposes  of  justice,  that  any  cavaliers,  or 
other  persons  who  are  at  present  in  those  islands, 
or  may  arrive  there,  should  leave  them,  and  not 
return  and  reside  in  them,  and  that  they  should 
come  and  present  themselves  before  us,  he  may 
command  it  in  our  name,  and  oblige  them  to  de- 
part ;  and  whomsoever  he  thus  commands,  we 
hereby  order,  that  immediately,  without  waiting 
to  inquire  or  consult  us,  or  to  receive  from  us  any 
other  letter  or  command,  and  without  interposing 
appeal  or  supplication,  they  obey  whatever  he 
shall  say  and  order,  under  the  penalties  which  he 
shall  impose  on  our  part,"  etc.,  etc. 

Another  letter,  dated  likewise  on  the  2ist  of 
May,  in  which  Columbus  is  styled  simply  "  ad- 
miral of  the  ocean  sea,"  orders  him  and  his 


*  Oviedo,  Cronica,  lib.  iii.  cap.  6. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


171 


brothers  to  surrender  the  fortress,  ships,  houses, 
arms,  ammunition,  cattle,  and  all  other  royal 
property,  into  the  hands  of  Bobadilla,  as  govern- 
or, under  penalty  of  incurring  the  punishments 
to  which  those  subject  themselves  who  refuse  to 
surrender  fortresses  and  other  trusts,  when  com- 
manded by  their  sovereigns. 

A  fourth  letter,  dated  on  the  26th  of  May,  and 
addressed  to  Columbus,  simply  by  the  title  of  ad- 
miral, is  a  mere  letter  of  credence,  ordering  him 
to  give  faith  and  obedience  to  whatever  Bobadilla 
should  impart. 

The  second  and  third  of  these  letters  were  evi- 
dently provisional,  and  only  to  be  produced,  if, 
on  examination,  there  should  appear  such  delin- 
quency on  the  part  of  Columbus  and  his  brothers 
as  to  warrant  their  being  divested  of  command. 

This  heavy  blow,  as  has  been  shown,  remained 
suspended  for  a  year  ;  yet,  that  it  was  whispered 
about,  and  triumphantly  anticipated  by  the  ene- 
mies of  Columbus,  is  evident  from  the  assertions 
of  Ojeda,  who  sailed  from  Spain  about  the  time  of 
the  signature  of  those  letters,  and  had  intimate 
communications  with  Bishop  Fonseca,  who  was 
considered  instrumental  in  producing  this  meas- 
ure. The  very  license  granted  by  the  bishop  to 
Ojeda  to  sail  on  a  voyage  of  discovery  in  contra- 
vention of  the  prerogatives  of  the  admiral,  has  the 
air  of  being  given  on  a  presumption  of  his  speedy 
downfall  ;  and  the  same  presumption,  as  has 
already  been  observed,  must  have  encouraged 
Ojeda  in  his  turbulent  conduct  at  Xaragua. 

At  length  the  long-projected  measure  was  car- 
ried into  effect.  Bobadilla  set  sail  for  San  Do- 
mingo about  the  middle  of  July,  1500,  with  two 
caravels,  in  which  were  twenty-five  men,  enlisted 
for  a  year,  to  serve  as  a  kind  of  guard.  There 
were  six  friars  likewise,  who  had  charge  of  a  num- 
ber of  Indians  sent  back  to  their  country.  Besides 
the  letters  patent,  Bobadilla  was  authorized,  by 
royal  order,  to  ascertain  and  discharge  all  arrears 
of  pay  clue  to  persons  in  the  service  of  the  crown, 
and  to  oblige  the  admiral  to  pay  what  was  due  on 
his  part,  "  so  that  those  people  might  receive  what 
was  owing  to  them,  and  there  might  be  no  more 
complaints."  In  addition  to  all  these  powers, 
Bobadilla  was  furnished  with  many  blank  letters 
signed  by  the  sovereigns,  to  be  filled  up  by  him  in 
such  manner,  and  directed  to  such  persons,  as  he 
might  think  advisable,  in  relation  to  the  mission 
with  which  he  was  intrusted.* 


CHAPTER   II. 

ARRIVAL   OF  BOBADILLA   AT    SAN  DOMINGO— HIS 
VIOLENT  ASSUMPTION   OF  THE  COMMAND. 

[1500.] 

COLUMBUS  was  still  at  Fort  Conception,  regu- 
lating the  affairs  of  the  Vega,  after  the  catastro- 
phe of  the  sedition  of  Moxica  ;  his  brother,  the 
Adelantaclo,  accompanied  by  Roldan,  was  pursu- 
ing and  arresting  the  fugitive  rebels  in  Xaragua  ; 
and  Don  Diego  Columbus  remained  in  temporary 
command  at  San  Domingo.  Faction  had  worn 
itself  out  ;  the  insurgents  had  brought  down  ruin 
upon  themselves  ;  and  the  island  appeared  deliv- 
ered from  the  domination  of  violent  and  lawless 
men. 

Such  was  the  state  of  public  affairs,  when,  on 


*  Herrera,  dccad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  7. 


the  morning  of  the  23d  of  August,  two  caravels 
were  descried  off  the  harbor  of  San  Domingo, 
about  a  league  at  sea.  They  were  standing  off 
and  on,  waiting  until  the  sea  breeze,  which  gener- 
ally prevails  about  ten  o'clock,  should  carry  them 
into  port.  Don  Diego  Columbus  supposed  them 
to  be  ships  sent  from  Spain  with  supplies,  and 
hoped  to  find  on  board  his  nephew  Diego,  whom 
the  admiral  had  requested  might  be  sent  out  to 
assist  him  in  his  various  concerns.  A  canoe  \Vas 
immediately  dispatched  to  obtain  information  ; 
which,  approaching  the  caravels,  inquired  what 
news  they  brought,  and  whether  Diego,  the  son  of 
the  admiral,  was  on  board.  Bobadilla  himself 
replied  from  the  principal  vessel,  announcing 
himself  as  a  commissioner  sent  out  to  investigate 
the  late  rebellion.  The  master  of  the  caravel 
then  inquired  about  the  news  of  the  island,  and 
was  informed  of  the  recent  transactions.  Seven 
of  the  rebels,  he  was  told,  had  been  hanged  that 
week,  and  five  more  were  in  the  fortress  of  San 
Domingo,  condemned  to  suffer  the  same  fate. 
Among  these  were  Pedro  Requelme  and  Fernan- 
do de  Guevara,  the  young  cavalier  whose  passion 
for  the  daughter  of  Anacaona  had  been  the  origi- 
nal cause  of  the  rebellion.  Further  conversation 
passed,  in  the  course  of  which  Bobadilla  ascer- 
tained that  the  admiral  and  the  Adelantado  were 
absent,  and  Don  Diego  Columbus  in  command. 

When  the  canoe  returned  to  the  city  with  the 
news  that  a  commissioner  had  arrived  to  make  in- 
quisition into  the  late  troubles,  there  was  a  great 
stir  and  agitation  throughout  the  community. 
Knots  of  whisperers  gathered  at  every  corner  ; 
those  who  were  conscious  of  malpractices  were* 
filled  with  consternation  ;  while  those  who  had 
grievances,  real  or  imaginary,  to  complain  of,  es- 
pecially those  whose  pay  was  in  arrear,  appeared 
with  joyful  countenances.* 

As  the  vessels  entered  the  river,  Bobadilla  be- 
held on  either  bank  a  gibbet  with  the  body  of  a 
Spaniard  hanging  on  it,  apparently  but  lately  ex- 
ecuted. He  considered  these  as  conclusive  proofs 
of  the  alleged  cruelty  of  Columbus.  Many  boats 
came  off  to  the  ship,  every  one  being  anxious  to 
pay  early  court  to  this  public  censor.  Bobadilla 
remained  on  board  all  clay,  in  the  course  of  which 
he  collected  much  of  the  rumors  of  the  place  ;  and 
as  those  who  sought  to  secure  his  favor  were 
those  who  had  most  to  fear  from  his  investiga- 
tions, it  is  evident  that  the  nature  of  the  rumors 
must  generally  have  been  unfavorable  to  Colum- 
bus. In  fact,  before  Bobadilla  landed,  if  not  be- 
fore he  arrived,  the  culpability  of  the  admiral  was 
decided  in  his  mind. 

The  next  morning  he  landed,  with  all  his  fol- 
lowers, and  went  to  the  church  to  attend  mass, 
where  he  found  Don  Diego  Columbus,  Rodrigo 
Perez,  the  lieutenant  of  the  admiral,  and  other  per- 
sons of  note.  Mass  being  ended,  and  those  per- 
sons, with  a  multitude  of  the  populace,  being  as- 
sembled at  the  door  of  the  church,  Bobadilla 
ordered  his  letters  patent  to  be  read,  authorising 
him  to  investigate  the  rebellion,  seize  the  persons 
and  sequestrate  the  property  of  delinquents,  and 
proceed  against  them  with  the  utmost  rigor  of  the 
law  ;  commanding  also  the  admiral,  and  all 
others  in  authority,  to  assist  him  in  the  discharge 
of  his  duties.  The  letter  being  read,  he  demand- 
ed of  Don  Diego  and  the  alcaldes  to  surrender 
to  him  the  persons  of  Fernando  Guevara,  Pedro 
Requelme,  and  the  other  prisoners,  with  the  dep- 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,lib.  i.  cap.  169.   Hist,  Ind., 
decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  8. 


172 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ositions  taken  concerning1  them  ;  and  ordered 
that  the  parties  by  whom  the/  were  accused,  and 
those  by  whose  command  they  had  been  taken, 
should  appear  before  him. 

Don  Diego  replied,  that  the  proceedings  had 
emanated  from  the  orders  of  the  admiral,  who  held 
superior  powers  to  any  Bobadilla  could  possess, 
and  without  whose  authority  he  could  do  nothing. 
He  requested,  at  the  same  time,  a  copy  of  the  let- 
ter patent,  that  he  might  send  it  to  his  brother,  to 
whom  alone  the  matter  appertained.  This  Boba- 
dilla refused,  observing  that,  if  Don  Diego  had 
power  to  do  nothing,  it  was  useless  to  give  him  a 
copy.  He  added,  that  since  the  office  and  au- 
thority he  had  proclaimed  appeared  to  have  no 
weight,  he  would  try  what  power  and  consequence 
there  was  in  the  name  of  governor,  and  would 
show  them  that  he  had  command,  not  merely  over 
them,  but  over  the  admiral  himself. 

The  little  community  remained  in  breathless  sus- 
pense, awaiting  the  portentous  movements  of  Bo- 
badilla. The  next  morning  he  appeared  at  mass, 
resolved  on  assuming  those  powers  which  were 
only  to  have  been  produced  after  full  investiga- 
tion, and  ample  proof  of  the  mal-conduct  of  Co- 
lumbus. When  mass  was  over,  and  the  eager 
populace  had  gathered  round  the  door  of  the 
church,  Bobadilla,  in  presence  of  Don  Diego  and 
Rodrigo  Perez,  ordered  his  other  royal  patent  to 
be  read,  investing  him  with  the  government  of  the 
islands,  and  of  Terra  Firma. 

The  patent  being  read,  Bobadilla  took  the  cus- 
tomary oath,  and  then  claimed  the  obedience  of 
Don  Diego,  Rodrigo  Perez,  and  all  present,  to 
this  royal  instrument  ;  on  the  authority  of  which 
he  again  demanded  the  prisoners  confined  in  the 
fortress.  In  reply,  they  professed  the  utmost  def- 
erence to  the  letter  of  the  sovereigns,  but  again 
observed  that  they  held  the  prisoners  in  obedience 
to  the  admiral,  to  whom  the  sovereigns  had  granted 
letters  of  a  higher  nature. 

The  seli-importance  of  Bobadilla  was  incensed 
at  this  non-compliance,  especially  as  he  saw  it  had 
some  effect  upon  the  populace,  who  appeared  to 
doubt  his  authority.  He  now  produced  the  third 
mandate  of  the  crown,  ordering  Columbus  and 
his  brothers  to  deliver  up  all  fortresses,  ships,  and 
other  royal  property.  To  win  the  public  com- 
pletely to  his  side,  he  read  also  the  additional 
mandate,  issued  on  the  3Oth  of  May,  of  the  same 
year,  ordering  him  to  pay  the  arrears  of  wages 
due  to  all  persons  in  the  royal  service,  and  to  com- 
pel the  admiral  to  pay  the  arrears  of  those  to 
whom  he  was  accountable. 

This  last  document  was  received  with  shouts  by 
the  multitude,  many  having  long  arrears  due  to 
them  in  consequence  of  the  poverty  of  the  treas- 
ury. Flushed  with  his  growing  importance,  Bo- 
badilla again  demanded  the  prisoners  ;  threaten- 
ing, if  refused,  to  lake  them  by  force.  Meeting 
with  the  same  reply,  he  repaired  to  the  fortress  to 
execute  his  threats.  This  post  was  commanded 
by  Miguel  Diaz,  the  same  Arragonian  cavalier 
who  had  once  taken  refuge  among  the  Indians  on 
the  banks  of  the  Ozema,  won  the  affections  of  the 
female  cacique  Catalina,  received  from  her  infor- 
mation of  the  neighboring  gold  mines,  and  induced 
his  countrymen  to  remove  to  those  parts. 

When  Bobadilla  came  before  the  fortress,  he 
found  the  gates  closed,  and  the  alcayde,  Miguel 
Diaz,  upon  the  battlements.  He  ordered  his  let- 
ters patent  to  be  read  with  a  loud  voice,  the  signa- 
tures and  seals  to  be  held  up  to  view,  and  then 
demanded  the  surrender  of  the  prisoners.  Diaz 
requested  a  copy  of  the  letters  ;  but  this  Bobadilla 


refused,  alleging  that  there  was  no  time  for  delay, 
the  prisoners  being  under  sentence  of  death,  and 
liable  at  any  moment  to  be  executed.  He  threat- 
ened at  the  same  time,  that  if  they  were  not  given 
up,  he  would  proceed  to  extremities,  and  Diaz 
should  be  answerable  for  the  consequences.  The 
wary  alcayde  again  required  time  to  reply,  and  a 
copy  of  the  letters,  saying  that  he  held  the  for- 
tress for  the  king  by  the  command  of  the  admiral, 
his  lord,  who  had  gained  these  territories  and 
islands,  and  that  when  the  latter  arrived  he 
should  obey  his  orders.* 

The  whole  spirit  of  Bobadilla  was  roused  within 
him,  at  the  refusal  of  the  alcayde.  Assembling 
all  the  people  he  had  brought  from  Spain,  together 
with  the  sailors  of  the  ships  and  the  rabble  of  the 
place,  he  exhorted  them  to  aid  him  in  getting  pos- 
session of  the  prisoners,  but  to  harm  no  one  unless 
in  case  of  resistance.  The  mob  shouted  assent, 
for  Bobadilla  was  already  the  idol  of  the  multi- 
tude. About  the  hour  of  vespers  he  set  out  at  the 
head  of  this  motley  army,  to  storm  a  fortress  des- 
titute of  a  garrison,  and  formidable  only  in  name, 
being  calculated  to  withstand  only  a  naked  and 
slightly-armed  people.  The  accounts  of  this  trans- 
action have  something  in  them  bordering  on  the 
ludicrous,  and  give  it  the  air  of  absurd  rhodomon- 
tade.  Bobadilla  assailed  the  portal  with  great 
impetuosity,  the  frail  bolts  and  locks  of  which 
gave  way  at  the  first  shock,  and  allowed  him  easy 
admission.  In  the  mean  time,  however,  his  zeal- 
ous myrmidons  applied  ladders  to  the  walls,  as  if 
about  to  carry  the  place  by  assault,  and  to  experi- 
ence a  desperate  defence.  The  alcayde,  Miguel 
Diaz,  and  Don  Diego  de  Alvarado,  alone  appeared 
on  the  battlements  ;  they  had  drawn  swords,  but 
offered  no  resistance.  Bobadilla  entered  the  for- 
tress in  triumph,  and  without  molestation.  The 
prisoners  were  found  in  a  chamber  in  irons.  He 
ordered  that  they  should  be  brought  up  to  him  to 
the  top  of  the  fortress,  where,  having  put  a  few 
questions  to  them,  as  a  matter  of  form,  he  gave 
them  in  charge  to  an  alguazil  named  Juan  de 
Espinosa.f 

Such  was  the  arrogant  and  precipitate  entrance 
into  office  of  Francisco  de  Bobadilla.  He  had  re- 
versed the  order  of  his  written  instructions,  hav- 
ing seized  upon  the  government  before  he  had  in- 
vestigated the  conduct  of  Columbus.  He  con- 
tinued his  career  in  the  same  spirit,  acting  as  if 
the  case  had  been  prejudged  in  Spain,  and  he  had 
been  sent  out  merely  to  degrade  the  admiral  from 
his  employments,  not  to  ascertain  the  manner  in 
which  he  had  fulfilled  them.  He  took  up  his  resi- 
dence in  the  house  of  Columbus,  seized  upon  his 
arms,  gold,  plate,  jewels,  horses,  together  with 
his  letters,  and  various  manuscripts,  both  public 
and  private,  even  to  his  most  secret  papers.  He 
gave  no  account  of  the  property  thus  seized,  and 
which  he  no  doubt  considered  already  confiscated 
to  the  crown,  excepting  that  he  paid  out  of  it  the 
wages  of  those  to  whom  the  admiral  was  in  ar- 
rears. J  To  increase  his  favor  with  the  people,  he 
proclaimed,  on  the  second  day  of  his  assumption 
of  power,  a  general  license  for  the  term  of  twenty 
years,  to  seek  for  gold,  paying  merely  one  eleventh 
to  government,  instead  of  a  third  as  heretofore. 
At  the  same  time  he  spoke  in  the  most  disre- 
spectful and  unqualified  terms  of  Columbus,  say- 
ing that  he  was  empowered  to  send  him  home  in 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  179. 
f  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup.     Herrera,  ubi  sup. 
i  Hist  del  Almirante,  cap.  85.     Las  Casas.     Her- 
rera, ubi  sup. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


173 


chains,  and  that  neither  he  nor  any  of  his  lineage 
would  ever  again  be  permitted  to  govern  in  the 
island.* 


CHAPTER  III. 

COLUMBUS  SUMMONED  TO  APPEAR  BEFORE 
BOBADILLA. 

[1500.] 

WHEN  the  tidings  reached  Columbus  at  Fort 
Conception  of  the  high-handed  proceedings  of 
Bobadilla,  he  considered  them  the  unauthorized 
acts  of  some  rash  adventurer  like  Ojeda.  Since 
government  had  apparently  thrown  open  the  door 
to  private  enterprise,  he  might  expect  to  have  his 
path  continually  crossed,  and  his  jurisdiction  in- 
fringed by  bold  intermeddlers,  feigning  or  fancy- 
ing themselves  authorized  to  interfere  in  the  af- 
fairs of  the  colony.  Since  the  departure  of  Ojeda 
another  squadron  had  touched  upon  the  coast,  and 
produced  a  transient  alarm,  being  an  expedition 
under  one  of  the  Pinzons,  licensed  by  the  sover- 
eigns to  make  discoveries.  There  had  also  been 
a  rumor  of  another  squadron  hovering  about  the 
island,  which  proved,  however,  to  be  unfounded. f 

The  conduct  of  Bobadilla  bore  all  the  appear- 
ance of  a  lawless  usurpation  of  some  intruder  of 
the  kind.  He  had  possessed  himself  forcibly  of 
the  fortress,  and  consequently  of  the  town.  He 
had  issued  extravagant  licenses  injurious  to  the 
government,  and  apparently  intended  only  to 
make  partisans  among  the  people  ;  and  had 
threatened  to  throw  Columbus  himself  in  irons. 
That  this  man  could  really  be  sanctioned  by  gov- 
ernment in  such  intemperate  measures  was  repug- 
nant to  belief.  The  admiral's  consciousness  of 
his  own  services,  the  repeated  assurances  he  had 
received  of  high  consideration  on  the  part  of  the 
sovereigns,  and  the  perpetual  prerogatives  granted 
to  him  under  their  hand  and  seal,  with  all  the 
solemnity  that  a  compact  could  possess,  all  for- 
bade him  to  consider  the  transactions  at  San 
Domingo  otherwise  than  as  outrages  on  his  au- 
thority by  some  daring  or  misguided  individual. 

To  be  nearer  to  San  Domingo,  and  obtain  more 
correct  information,  he  proceeded  to  Bonao, 
which  was  now  beginning  to  assume  the  appear- 
ance of  a  settlement,  several  Spaniards  having 
erected  houses  there,  and  cultivated  the  adjacent 
country.  He  had  scarcely  reached  the  place 
when  an  alcalde,  bearing  a  staff  of  office,  arrived 
there  from  San  Domingo,  proclaiming  the  ap- 
pointment of  Bobadilla  to  the  government,  and 
bearing  copies  of  his  letters  patent.  There  was  no 
especial  letter  or  message  sent  to  the  admiral, 
nor  were  any  of  the  common  forms  of  courtesy 
and  ceremony  observed  in  superseding  him  in  the 
command  ;  all  the  proceedings  of  Bobadilla  tow- 
ard him  were  abrupt  and  insulting. 

Columbus  was  exceedingly  embarrassed  how  to 
act.  It  was  evident  that  Bobadilla  was  intrusted 
with  extensive  powers  by  the  sovereigns,  but  that 
they  could  have  exercised  such  a  sudden,  unmer- 
ited, and  apparently  capricious  act  of  severity,  as 
that  of  divesting  him  of  all  his  commands,  he 
could  not  believe.  He  endeavored  to  persuade 
himself  that  Bobadilla  was  some  person  sent  put 
to  exercise  the  fuctions  of  chief  judge,  according 
to  the  request  he  had  written  home  to  the  sover- 
eigns, and  that  they  had  intrusted  him  likewise 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Nurse  of  Prince  Juan, 
f  Ibid. 


with  provisional  powers  to  make  an  inquest  into 
the  late  troubles  of  the  island.  All  beyond  these 
powers  he  tried  to  believe  were  mere  assumptions 
and  exaggerations  of  authority,  as  in  the  case  of 
Aguado.  At  all  events,  he  was  determined  to  act 
upon  such  presumption,  and  to  endeavor  to  gain 
time.  If  the  monarchs  had  really  taken  any  harsh 
measures  with  respect  to  him,  it  must  have  been 
in  consequence  of  misrepresentations.  The  least 
delay  might  give  them  an  opportunity  of  ascer- 
taining their  error,  and  making  the  necessary 
amends. 

He  wrote  to  Bobadilla,  therefore,  in  guarded 
terms,  welcoming  him  to  the  island  ;  cautioning 
him  against  precipitate  measures,  especially  in 
granting  licenses  to  collect  gold  ;  informing  him 
that  he  was  on  the  point  of  going  to  Spain,  and  in 
a  little  time  would  leave  him  in  command,  with 
everything  fully  and  clearly  explained.  He  wrote  at 
the  same  time  to  the  like  purport  to  certain  monks 
who  had  come  out  with  Bobadilla,  though  he  ob- 
serves that  these  letters  were  only  written  to  gain 
time.*  He  received  no  replies  ;  but  while  an  in- 
sulting silence  was  observed  toward  him,  Boba- 
dilla tilled  up  several  of  the  blank  letters,  of  which 
he  had  a  number  signed  by  the  sovereigns,  and 
sent  them  to  Roldan,  and  other  of  the  admiral's 
enemies,  the  very  men  whom  he  had  been  sent 
out  to  judge.  These  letters  were  full  of  civilities 
and  promises  of  favor.f 

To  prevent  any  mischief  which  might  arise  from 
the  licenses  and  indulgences  so  prodigally  granted 
by  Bobadilla,  Columbus  published  by  word  and 
letter  that  the  powers  assumed  by  him  could  not 
be  valid,  nor  his  licenses  availing,  as  he  himself 
held  superior  powers  granted  to  him  in  perpetuity 
by  the  crown,  which  could  no  more  be  superseded 
in  this  instance  than  they  had  been  in  that  of 
Aguado. 

For  some  time  Columbus  remained  in  this  anx- 
ious and  perplexed-  state  of  mind,  uncertain  what 
line  of  conduct  to  pursue  in  so  singular  and  un- 
looked-for a  conjuncture.  He  was  soon  brought  to 
a  decision.  Francisco  Velasquez,  deputy  treas- 
urer, and  Juan  de  Trasierra,  a  Franciscan  friar, 
arrived  at  Bonao,  and  delivered  to  him  the  royal 
letter  of  credence,  signed  by  the  sovereigns  on  the 
26th  of  May,  1499,  commanding  him  to  give  im- 
plicit faith  and  obedience  to  Bobadilla  ;  and  they 
delivered,  at  the  same  time,  a  summons  from  the 
latter  to  appear  immediately  before  him. 

This  laconic  letter  from  the  sovereigns  struck 
at  once  at  the  root  of  all  his  dignity  and  power. 
He  no  longer  made  hesitation  or  demur,  but  com- 
plying with  the  peremptory  summons  of  Boba- 
dilla, departed,  almost  alone  and  unattended,  for 
San  Domingo.J 


CHAPTER  IV. 

COLUMBUS    AND    HIS    BROTHERS   ARRESTED   AND 
SENT  TO   SPAIN   IN  CHAINS. 

[1500.] 

THE  tidings  that  a  new  governor  had  arrived, 
and  that  Columbus  was  in  disgrace,  and  to  be  sent 
home  in  chains,  circulated  rapidly  through  the 
Vega,  and  the  colonists  hastened  from  all  parts  to 
San  Domingo  to  make  interest  with  Bobadilla.  It 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  the  Nurse  of  Prince  Juan, 
f  Ibid.     Henera,  decad.  i.  lib. 
j  Herrera,  decad.   i.   lib.   iv,  cap.  9.     Letter  to  the 
Nurse  of  Prince  Juan. 


174 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


was  soon  perceived  that  there  was  no  surer  way 
than  that  of  vilifying  his  predecessor.  Bobadilla 
felt  that  he  had  taken  a  rash  step  in  seizing  upon 
the  government,  and  that  his  own  safety  required 
the  conviction  of  Columbus.  He  listened  eagerly, 
therefore,  to  all  accusations,  public  or  private  ; 
and  welcome  was  he  who  could  bring  any  charge, 
however  extravagant,  against  the  admiral  and  his 
brothers. 

Hearing  that  the  admiral  was  on  his  way  to  the 
city,  he  made  a  bustle  of  preparation,  and  armed 
the  troops,  affecting  to  believe  a  rumor  that  Co- 
lumbus had  called  upon  the  caciques  of  the  Vega 
to  aid  him  with  their  subjects  in  a  resistance  to 
the  commands  of  government.  No  grounds  ap- 
pear for  this  absurd  report,  which  was  probably 
invented  to  give  a  coloring  of  precaution  to  subse- 
quent measures  of  violence  and  insult.  The  ad- 
miral's brother,  Don  Diego,  was  seized,  thrown  in 
irons,  and  confined  on  board  of  a  caravel,  without 
any  reason  being  assigned  for  his  imprisonment. 

In  the  mean  time  Columbus  pursued  his  journey 
to  San  Domingo,  travelling  in  a  lonely  manner, 
without  guards  or  retinue.  Most  of  his  people 
were  with  the  Adelantado,  and  he  had  declined 
being  attended  by  the  remainder.  He  had  heard 
of  the  rumors  of  the  hostile  intentions  of  Boba- 
dilla ;  and  although  he  knew  that  violence  was 
threatened  to  his  person,  he  came  in  this  unpre- 
tending manner  to  manifest  his  pacific  feelings, 
and  to  remove  all  suspicion.* 

No  sooner  did  Bobadilla  hear  of  his  arrival 
than  he  gave  orders  to  put  him  in  irons,  and  con- 
fine him  in  the  fortress.  This  outrage  to  a  person 
of  such  dignified  and  venerable  appearance  and 
such  eminent  merit,  seemed  for  the  time  to  shock 
even  his  enemies.  When  the  irons  were  brought, 
every  one  present  shrank  from  the  task  of  putting 
them  on  him,  either  from  a  sentiment  of  compas- 
sion at  so  great  a  reverse  of  fortune,  or  out  of 
habitual  reverence  for  his  person.  To  fill  the 
measure  of  ingratitude  meted  out  to  him,  it  was 
one  of  his  own  domestics,  "  a  graceless  and 
shameless  cook,"  says  Las  Casas,  "  who,  with  un- 
washed front,  riveted  the  fetters  with  as  much 
.  readiness  and  alacrity  as  though  he  were  serving 
him  with  choice  and  savory  viands.  I  knew  the  fel- 
low," adds  the  venerable  historian,  "  and  I  think 
his  name  was  Espinosa."f 

Columbus  conducted  himself  with  characteristic 
magnanimity  under  the  injuries  heaped  upon  him. 
There  is  a  noble  scorn  which  swells  and  supports 
the  heart,  and  silences  the  tongue  of  the  truly 
great,  when  enduring  the  insults  of  the  unworthy. 
Columbus  could  not  stoop  to  deprecate  the  arro- 
gance of  a  weak  and  violent  man  like  Bobadilla. 
He  looked  beyond  this  shallow  agent  and  all  his 
petty  tyranny  to  the  sovereigns  who  had  employed 
him.  Their  injustice  or  ingratitude  alone  could 
wound  his  spirit  ;  and  he  felt  assured  that  when 
the  truth  came  to  be  known,  they  would  blush  to 
find  how  greatly  they  had  wronged  him.  With 
this  proud  assurance  he  bore  all  present  indigni- 
ties in  silence. 

Bobadilla,  although  he  had  the  admiral  and 
Don  Diego  in  his  power,  and  had  secured  the 
venal  populace,  felt  anxious  and  ill  at  ease.  The 
Adelantado,  with  an  armed  force  under  his  com- 
mand, was  still  in  the  distant  province  of  Xara- 
gua,  in  pursuit  of  the  rebels.  Knowing  his  sol- 
dier-like and  determined  spirit,  he  feared  he 
might  take  some  violent  measure  when  he  should 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  180. 
f  Ibid.,  lib.  i.  cap.  180. 


hear  of  the  ignominious  treatment  and  imprison- 
ment of  his  brothers.  He  doubted  whether  any 
order,  from  himself  would  have  any  effect,  except 
to  exasperate  the  stern  Don  Bartholomew.  He 
sent  a  demand,  therefore,  to  Columbus,  to  write 
to  his  brother,  requesting  him  to  repair  peaceably 
to  San  Domingo,  and  forbidding  him  to  execute  the 
persons  he  held  in  confinement  ;  Columbus  read- 
ily complied.  He  exhorted  his  brother  to  submit 
quietly  to  the  authority  of  his  sovereigns,  and  to 
endure  all  present  wrongs  and  indignities,  under 
the  confidence  that  when  they  arrived  at  Castile, 
everything  would  be  explained  and  redressed.* 

On  receiving  this  letter,  Don  Bartholomew  im- 
mediately complied.  Relinquishing  his  com- 
mand, he  hastened  peacefully  to  San  Domingo, 
and  on  arriving  experienced  the  same  treatment 
with  his  brothers,  being  put  in  irons  and  confined 
on  board  of  a  caravel.  They  were  kept  separate 
from  each  other,  and  no  communication  permitted 
between  them.  Bobadilla  did  not  see  them  him- 
self, nor  did  he  allow  others  to  visit  them,  but 
kept  them  in  ignorance  of  the  cause  of  their  im- 
prisonment, the  crimes  with  which  they  were 
charged,  and  the  process  that  was  going  on 
against  them.f 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  Bobadilla  really 
had  authority  for  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of 
the  admiral  and  his  brothers, £  and  whether  such 
violence  and  indignity  was  in  any  case  contem- 
plated by  the  sovereigns.  He  may  have  fancied 
himself  empowered  by  the  clause  in  the  letter  of 
instructions,  dated  March  2ist,  1499,  in  which, 
speaking  of  the  rebellion  of  Roldan,  "  he  is  au- 
thorized to  seise  the  persons  and  sequestrate  the 
property  of  those  who  appeared  to  be  culpable, 
and  then  to  proceed  against  them  and  against  the 
absent,  with  the  highest  civil  and  criminal  penal- 
ties." This  evidently  had  reference  to  the  per- 
sons ot  Roldan  and  his  followers,  who  were  then 


*  Peter  Martyr  mentions  a  vulgar  rumor  of  the 
day,  that  the  admiral,  not  knowing  what  might  hap- 
pen, wrote  a  letter  in  cipher  to  the  Adelantado,  urg- 
ing him  to  come  with  arms  in  his  hands  to  prevent  any 
violence  that  might  be  contrived  against  him  ;  that 
the  Adelantado  advanced,  in  effect,  with  his  armed 
force,  but  having  the  imprudence  to  proceed  some  dis- 
tance ahead  of  it,  was  surprised  by  the  governor,  be- 
fore his  men  could  come  to  his  succor,  and  that  the 
letter  in  cipher  had  been  sent  to  Spain.  This  must 
have  been  one  of  the  groundless  rumors  of  the  day, 
circulated  to  prejudice:  the  public  mind.  Nothing  of 
the  kind  appears  among  the  charges  in  the  inquest 
made  by  Bobadilla,  and  which  was  seen,  and  extracts 
made  from  it,  by  Las  Casas,  for  his  history.  It  is,  in 
fact,  in  total  contradiction  to  the  statements  of  Las 
Casas,  Herrera,  and  Fernando  Columbus. 

f  Charlevoix,  in  his  History  of  San  Domingo  (lib. 
iii.  p.  199),  states,  that  the  suit  against  Columbus  was 
conducted  in  writing  ;  that  written  charges  were  sent 
to  him,  to  which  he  replied  in  the  same  way.  This  is 
contrary  to  the  statements  of  Las  Casas,  Herrera,  and 
Fernando  Columbus.  The  admiral  himself,  in  his  let- 
ter to  the  Nurse  of  Prince  Juan,  after  relating  the 
manner  in  which  he  and  his  brothers  had  been  thrown 
into  irons,  and  confined  separately,  without  being 
visited  by  Bobadilla,  or  permitted  to  see  any  other 
persons,  expressly  adds.  "  I  make  oath  that  I  do  not 
know  for  what  I  am  imprisoned."  Again,  in  a  letter 
written,  some  time  afterward  from  Jamaica,  he  says, 
"  I  was  taken  and  thrown  with  two  of  my  brothers  in 
a  ship,  loaded  with  irons,  with  little  clothing  and  much 
ill-treatment,  without  being  summoned  or  convicted 
by  justice. ' ' 

%  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  10.  Oviedo,  Croni- 
ca,  lib.  iii.  cap.  6. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


175 


in  arms,  and  against  whom  Columbus  had  sent 
home  complaints  ;  and  this,  by  a  violent  construc- 
tion, Bobadilla  seems  to  have  wrested  into  an  au- 
thority for  seizing  the  person  of  the  admiral  him- 
self. In  fact,  in  the  whole  course  of  his  proceed- 
ings, he  reversed  and  confounded  the  order  of  his 
instructions.  His  first  step  should  have  been  to 
proceed  against  the  rebels  ;  this  he  made  the  last. 
His  last  step  should  have  been,  in  case  of  ample 
evidence  against  the  admiral,  to  have  superseded 
him  in  office  ;  and  this  he  made  the  first,  without 
waiting  for  evidence.  Having  predetermined, 
from  the  very  outset,  that  Columbus  was  in  the 
wrong,  by  the  same  rule  he  had  to  presume  that 
all  the  opposite  parties  were  in  the  right.  It  be- 
came indispensable  to  his  own  justification  to  in- 
culpate the  admiral  and  his  brothers  ;  and  the  reb- 
els he  had  been  sent  to  judge  became,  by  this 
singular  perversion  of  rule,  necessary  and  cherish- 
ed evidences,  to  criminate  those  against  whom 
they  had  rebelled. 

The  intentions  of  the  crown,  however,  are  not  to 
be  vindicated  at  the  expense  of  its  miserable 
agent.  If  proper  respect  had  been  felt  for  the 
rights  and  dignities  of  Columbus,  Bobadilla  would 
never  have  been  intrusted  with  powers  so  exten- 
sive, undefined,  and  discretionary  ;  nor  would  he 
have  dared  to  proceed  to  such  lengths,  with  such 
rudeness  and  precipitation,  had  he  not  felt  assured 
that  it  would  not  be  displeasing  to  the  jealous- 
minded  Ferdinand. 

The  old  scenes  of  the  time  of  Aguado  were  now 
renewed  with  tenfold  virulence,  and  the  old 
charges  revived,  with  others  still  more  extrava- 
gant. From  the  early  and  never-to-be-forgotten 
outrage  upon  Castilian  pride,  of  compelling  hi- 
dalgos, in  time  of  emergency,  to  labor  in  the  con- 
struction of  works  necessary  to  the  public  safety, 
down  to  the  recent  charge  of  levying  war  against 
the  government,  there  was  not  a  hardship,  abuse, 
nor  sedition  in  the  island,  that  was  not  imputed  to 
the  misdeeds  of  Columbus  and  his  brothers.  Be- 
sides the  usual  accusations  of  inflicting  oppressive 
labor,  unnecessary  tasks,  painful  restrictions, 
short  allowances  of  food,  and  cruel  punishments 
upon  the  Spaniards,  and  waging  unjust  wars 
against  the  natives,  they  were  now  charged  with 
preventing  the  conversion  of  the  latter,  that  they 
might  send  them  slaves  to  Spain,  and  profit  by 
their  sale.  This  last  charge,  so  contrary  to  the 
pious  feelings  of  the  admiral,  was  founded  on  his 
having  objected  to  the  baptism  of  certain  Indians 
of  mature  age,  until  they  could  be  instructed  in 
the  doctrines  of  Christianity  ;  justly  considering  it 
an  abuse  of  that  holy  sacrament  to  administer  it 
thus  blindly.* 

Columbus  was  charged,  also,  with  having  se- 
creted pearls,  and  other  precious  articles,  collect- 
ed in  his  voyage  along  the  coast  of  Paria,  and  with 
keeping  the  sovereigns  in  ignorance  of  the  nature 
of  his  discoveries  there,  in  order  to  exact  new 
privileges  from  them  ;  yet  it  was  notorious  that  he 
had  sent  home  specimens  of  the  pearls  and  jour- 
nals and  charts  of  his  voyage,  by  which  others 
had  been  enabled  to  pursue  his  track. 

Even  the  late  tumults,  now  that  the  rebels  were 
admitted  as  evidence,  were  all  turned  into  matters 
of  accusation.  They  were  represented  as  spirited 
and  loyal  resistances  to  tyranny  exercised  upon 
the  colonists  and  the  natives.  The  well-merited 
punishments  inflicted  upon  certain  of  the  ring- 
leaders were  cited  as  proofs  of  a  cruel  and  re- 
vengeful disposition,  and  a  secret  hatred  of  Span- 


*  Munoz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo,  part  unpublished. 


iards.  Bobadilla  believed,  or  affected  to  believe, 
all  these  charges.  He  had,  in  a  manner,  made 
the  rebels  his  confederates  in  the  ruin  of  Colum- 
bus. It  was  become  a  common  cause  with  them. 
He  could  no  longer,  therefore,  conduct  himself 
toward  them  as  a  judge.  Guevara,  Requelme, 
and  their  fellow-convicts,  were  discharged  almost 
without  the  form  of  a  trial,  and  it  is  even  said 
were  received  into  favor  and  countenance.  Rol- 
dan,  from  the  very  first,  had  been  treated  with 
confidence  by  Bobadilla,  and  honored  with  his 
correspondence.  All  the  others,  whose  conduct 
had  rendered  them  liable  to  justice,  received 
either  a  special  acquittal  or  a  general  pardon.  It 
was  enough  to  have  been  opposed  in  any  way  to 
Columbus,  to  obtain  full  justification  in  the  eyes  of 
Bobadilla. 

The  latter  had  now  collected  a  weight  of  testi- 
mony, and  produced  a  crowd  of  witnesses,  suf- 
ficient, as  he  conceived,  to  insure  the  condemna- 
tion of  the  prisoners,  and  his  own  continuance  in 
command.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  send  the 
admiral  and  his  brothers  home  in  chains,  in  the 
vessels  ready  for  sea,  transmitting  at  the  same 
time  the  inquest  taken  in  their  case,  and  writing 
private  letters,  enforcing  the  charges  made  against 
them,  and  advising  that  Columbus  should  on  no 
account  be  restored  to  the  command,  which  he 
had  so  shamefully  abused. 

San  Domingo  now  swarmed  with  miscreants 
just  delivered  from  the  dungeon  and  the  gibbet. 
It  was  a  perfect  jubilee  of  triumphant  villainy  and 
dastard  malice.  Every  base  spirit,  which  had 
been  awed  into  obsequiousness  by  Columbus  and 
his  brothers  when  in  power,  now  started  up  to 
revenge  itself  upon  them  when  in  chains.  The 
most  injurious  slanders  were  loudly  proclaimed  in 
the  streets  ;  insulting  pasquinades  and  inflamma- 
tory libels  were  posted  up  at  every  corner  ;  and 
horns  were  blown  in  the  neighborhood  of  their 
prisons,  to  taunt  them  with  the  exultings  of  the 
rabble.*  When  these  rejoicings  of  his  enemies 
reached  him  in  his  dungeon,  and  Columbus  re- 
flected on  the  inconsiderate  violence  already  ex- 
hibited by  Bobadilla,  he  knew  not  how  far  his 
rashness  and  confidence  might  carry  him,  and  be- 
gan to  entertain  apprehensions  for  his  life. 

The  vessels  being  ready  to  make  sail,  Alonzo 
de  Villejo  was  appointed  to  take  charge  of  the 
prisoners,  and  carry  them  to  Spain.  This  officer 
had  been  brought  up  by  an  uncle  of  Fonseca,  was 
in  the  employ  of  that  bishop,  ancl  had  come  out 
with  Bobadilla.  The  latter  instructed  him,  on 
arriving  at  Cadiz,  to  deliver  his  prisoners  into  the 
hands  of  Fonseca,  or  of  his  uncle,  thinking  there- 
by to  give  the  malignant  prelate  a  triumphant 
gratification.  This  circumstance  gave  weight 
with  many  to  a  report  that  Bobadilla  was  secretly 
instigated  and  encouraged  in  his  violent  measures 
by  Fonseca,  and  was  promised  his  protection  and 
influence  at  court,  in  case  of  any  complaints  of  his 
conduct.f 

Villejo  undertook  the  office  assigned  him,  but 
he  discharged  it  in  a  more  generous  manner  than 
was  intended.  "This  Alonzo  de  Villejo,"  says 
the  worthy  Las  Casas,  "  was  a  hidalgo  of  honor- 
able character,  and  my  particular  friend."  He 
certainly  showed  himself  superior  to  the  low  ma- 
lignity of  his  patrons.  When  he  arrived  with  a 
guard  to  conduct  the  admiral  from  the  prison  to 
the  ship,  he  found  him  in  chains  in  a  state  of  si- 
lent despondency.  So  violently  had  he  been 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  86. 

\  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  180,  MS. 


176 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


treated,  and  so  savage  were  the  passions  let  loose 
against  him,  that  he  feared  he  should  be  sacrificed 
without  an  opportunity  of  being  heard,  and  his 
name  go  down  sullied  and  dishonored  to  posterity. 
When  he  beheld  the  officer  enter  with  the  guard, 
he  thought  it  was  to  conduct  him  to  the  scaffold. 
"  Villejo,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "  whither  are  you 
taking  me  ?"  "  To  the  ship,  your  Excellency,  to 
embark,"  replied  the  other.  "  To  embark  !"  re- 
peated the  admiral,  earnestly  ;  "  Villejo,  do  you 
speak  the  truth  ?"  "  By  the  life  of  your  Excel- 
lency," replied  the  honest  officer,  "it  is  true  !" 
With  these  words  the  admiral  was  comforted,  and 
felt  as  one  restored  from  death  to  life.  Nothing 
can  be  more  touching  and  expressive  than  this 
little  colloquy,  recorded  by  the  venerable  Las 
Casas,  who  doubtless  had  it  from  the  lips  of  his 
friend  Villejo. 

The  caravels  set  sail  early  in  October,  bearing 
off  Columbus  shackled  like  the  vilest  of  culprits, 
amid  the  scoffs  and  shouts  of  a  miscreant  rabble, 
who  took  a  brutal  joy  in  heaping  insults  on  his 
venerable  head,  and  sent  curses  after  him  from 


the  shores  of  the  island  he  had  so  recently  added 
to  the  civilized  world.  Fortunately  the  voyage 
was  favorable,  and  of  but  moderate  duration,  and 
was  rendered  less  disagreeable  by  the  conduct  of 
those  to  whom  he  was  given  in  custody.  The 
worthy  Villejo,  though  in  the  service  of  Fonseca, 
felt  deeply  moved  at  the  treatment  of  Columbus. 
The  master  of  the  caravel,  Andreas  Martin,  was 
equally  grieved  :  they  both  treated  the  admiral 
with  profound  respect  and  assiduous  attention. 
They  would  have  taken  off  his  irons,  but  to  this 
he  would  not  consent.  "  No,"  said  he  proudly, 
"  their  majesties  commanded  me  by  letter  to  sub- 
mit to  whatever  Bobadilla  should  order  in  their 
name  ;  by  their  authority  he  has  put  upon  me 
these  chains  ;  I  will  wear  them  until  they  shall 
order  them  to  be  taken  off,  and  I  will  preserve 
them  afterward  as  relics  and  memorials  of  the  re- 
ward of  my  services."  * 

"  He  did  so,"  adds  his  son  Fernando  ;  "  I  saw 
them  always  hanging  in  his  cabinet,  and  he  re- 
quested that  when  he  died  they  might  be  buried 
with  him  !"  f 


BOOK  XIV. 


CHAPTER   I. 

SENSATION  IN  SPAIN  ON  THE  ARRIVAL  OF  COLUM- 
BUS  IN   IRONS— HIS  APPEARANCE  AT  COURT. 

[I500.J 

THE  arrival  of  Columbus  at  Cadiz,  a  prisoner 
and  in  chains,  produced  almost  as  great  a  sensa- 
tion as  his  triumphant  return  from  his  first  voy- 
age. It  was  one  of  those  striking  and  obvious 
facts  which  speak  to  the  feelings  of  the  multitude, 
and  preclude  the  necessity  of  reflection.  No  one 
stopped  to  inquire  into  the  case.  It  was  sufficient 
to  be  told  that  Columbus  was  brought  home  in 
irons  from  the  world  he  had  discovered.  There 
was  a  general  burst  of  indignation  in  Cadiz,  and 
in  the  powerful  and  opulent  Seville,  which  was 
echoed  throughout  all  Spain.  If  the  ruin  of  Co- 
lumbus had  been  the  intention  of  his  enemies,  they 
had  defeated  their  object  by  their  own  violence. 
One  of  those  reactions  took  place,  so  frequent  in 
the  public  mind,  when  persecution  is  pushed  to  an 
unguarded  length.  Those  of  the  populace  who 
had  recently  been  loud  in  their  clamor  against 
Columbus  were  now  as  loud  in  their  reprobation 
of  his  treatment,  and  a  strong  sympathy  was 
expressed,  against  which  it  would  have  been  odious 
for  the  government  to  contend. 

The  tidings  of  his  arrival,  and  of  the  ignomini- 
ous manner  in  which  he  had  been  brought, 
reached  the  court  at  Granada,  and  filled  the  halls 
of  the  Alhambra  with  murmurs  of  astonishment. 
Columbus,  full  of  his  wrongs,  but  ignorant  how 
far  they  had  been  authorized  by  the  sovereigns, 
had  forborne  to  write  to  them.  In  the  course  of 
his  voyage,  however,  he  had  penned  a  long  letter 
to  Dofia  Juana  de  la  Torre,  the  aya  of  Prince 
Juan,  a  lady  high  in  favor  with  Queen  Isabella. 
This  letter,  on  his  arrival  at  Cadiz,  Andreas  Mar- 
tin, the  captain  of  the  caravel,  permitted  him  to 
send  off  privately  by  express.  It  arrived,  there- 
fore, before  the  protocol  of  the  proceedings  insti- 
tuted by  Bobadilla,  and  from  this  document  the 
sovereigns  derived  their  first  intimation  of  his 


treatment.^  It  contained  a  statement  of  the  late 
transactions  of  the  island,  and  of  the  wrongs  he 
had  suffered,  written  with  his  usual  artlessness 
and  energy.  To  specify  the  contents  would  be 
but  to  recapitulate  circumstances  already  record- 
ed. Some  expressions,  however,"  which  burst 
from  him  in  the  warmth  of  his  feelings,  are  worthy 
of  being  noted.  "  The  slanders  of  worthless 
men,"  says  he,  "  have  done  me  more  injury  than 
all  my  services  have  profited  me."  Speaking  of 
the  misrepresentations  to  which  he  was  subject- 
ed, he  observes  :  "  Such  is  the  evil  name  which  I 
have  acquired,  that  if  I  were  to  build  hospitals 
and  churches,  they  would  be  called  dens  of  rob- 
bers." After  relating  in  indignant  terms  the  con- 
duct of  Bobadilla,  in  seeking  testimony  respecting 
his  administration  from  the  very  men  who  had 
rebelled  against  him,  and  throwing  himself  and 
his  brothers  in  irons,  without  letting  them  know 
the  offences  with  which  they  were  charged,  "  I 
have  been  much  aggrieved,"  he  adds,  "  in  that  a 
person  should  be  sent  out  to  investigate  my  con- 
duct, who  knew  that  if  the  evidence  which  he 
could  send  home  should  appear  to  be  of  a  serious 
nature,  he  would  remain  in  the  government." 
He  complains  that,  in  forming  an  opinion  of  his 
administration,  allowances  had  not  been  made  for 
the  extraordinary  difficulties  with  which  he  had  to 
contend,  and'  the  wild  state  of  the  country  over 
which  he  had  to  rule.  "  I  was  judged,"  he  observes, 
"  as  a  governor  who  had  been  sent  to  take  charge 
of  a  well-regulated  city,  under  the  dominion  ot 
well-established  laws,  where  there  was  no  danger 
of  everything  running  to  disorder  and  ruin  ;  but  I 
ought  to  be  judged  as  a  captain,  sent  to  subdue  a 
numerous  and  hostile  people,  of  manners  and  re- 
ligion opposite  to  ours,  living  not  in  regular  towns, 
but  in  forests  and  mountains.  It  ought  to  be  con- 
sidered that  I  have  brought  all  these  under  sub- 
jection to  their  majesties,  giving  them  dominion 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  180,  MS. 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  86. 

$  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  182. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


177 


over  another  world,  by  which  Spain,  heretofore 
poor,  has  suddenly  become  rich.  Whatever  er- 
rors I  may  have  fallen  into,  they  were  not  with  an 
evil  intention  ;  and  I  believe  their  majesties  will 
credit  what  I  say.  I  have  known  them  to  be  mer- 
ciful to  those  who  have  wilfully  done  them  disser- 
vice ;  I  am  convinced  that  they  will  have  still 
more  indulgence  for  me,  who  have  erred  inno- 
cently, or  by  compulsion,  as  they  will  hereafter  be 
more  fully  informed  ;  and  I  trust  they  will  con- 
sider my  great  services,  the  advantages  of  which 
are  every  day  more  and  more  apparent." 

When  this  letter  was  read  to  the  noble-minded 
Isabella,  and  she  found  how  grossly  Columbus 
had  been  wronged  and  the  royal  authority  abused, 
her  heart  was  rilled  with  mingled  sympathy  and 
indignation.  The  tidings  were  confirmed  by  a 
letter  from  the  alcalde  or  corregidor  of  Cadiz,  into 
whose  hands  Columbus  and  his  brothers  had  been 
delivered,  until  the  pleasure  of  the  sovereigns 
should  be  known  ;  *  and  by  another  letter  from 
Alonzo  de  Villejo,  expressed  in  terms  accordant 
with  his  humane  and  honorable  conduct  toward 
his  illustrious  prisoner. 

However  Ferdinand  might  have  secretly  felt 
disposed  against  Columbus,  the  momentary  tide 
of  public  feeling  was  not  to  be  resisted.  He 
joined  with  his  generous  queen  in  her  reprobation 
of  the  treatment  of  the  admiral,  and  both  sover- 
eigns hastened  to  give  evidence  to  the  world  that 
his  imprisonment  had  been  without  their  au- 
thority, and  contrary  to  their  wishes.  Without 
waiting  to  receive  any  documents  th.at  might  ar- 
rive from  Bobadilla,  they  sent  orders  to  Cadiz  that 
the  prisoners  should  be  instantly  set  at  liberty, 
and  treated  with  all  distinction.  They  wrote  a 
letter  to  Columbus,  couched  in  terms  of  gratitude 
and  affection,  expressing  their  grief  at  all  that  he 
had  suffered,  and  inviting  him  to  court.  They  or- 
dered, at  the  same  time,  that  two  thousand  ducats 
should  be  advanced  to  defray  his  expenses.! 

The  loyal  heart  of  Columbus  was  again  cheered 
by  this  declaration  of  his  sovereigns.  He  felt  con- 
scious of  his  integrity,  and  anticipated  an  imme- 
diate restitution  of  all  his  rights  and  dignities. 
He  appeared  at  court  in  Granada  on  the  iyth  of 
December,  not  as  a  man  ruined  and  disgraced, 
but  richly  dressed,  and  attended  by  an  honorable 
retinue.  He  was  received  by  the  sovereigns  with 
unqualified  favor  and  distinction.  When  the 
queen  beheld  this  venerable  man  approach,  and 
thought  on  all  he  had  deserved  and  all  he  had 
suffered,  she  was  moved  to  tears.  Columbus  had 
borne  up  firmly  against  the  rude  conflicts  of  the 
world — he  had  endured  with  lofty  scorn  the  in- 
juries and  insults  of  ignoble  men  ;  but  he  pos- 
sessed strong  and  quick  sensibility.  When  he 
found  himself  thus  kindly  received  by  his  sover- 
eigns, and  beheld  tears  in  the  benign  eyes  of  Isa- 
bella, his  long-suppressed  feelings  burst  forth  :  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  for  some  time 
could  not  utter  a  word  for  the  violence  of  his  tears 
and  sobbings. J 

Ferdinand  and  Isabella  raised  him  from  the 
ground,  and  endeavored  to  encourage  him  by  the 
most  gracious  expressions.  As  soon  as  he  re- 
gained self-possession  he  entered  into  an  eloquent 
and  high-minded  vindication  of  his  loyalty,  and  the 


*  Oviedo,  Cronica,  lib.  iii.  cap.  6. 

f  Las  Casas,  lib.  i.  cap.  182.  Two  thousand  duc- 
ats, or  two  thousand  eight  hundred  and  forty-six  dol- 
lars, equivalent  to  eight  thousand  five  hundred  and 
thirty  eight  dollars  of  the  present  day. 

\  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  10. 


zeal  he  had  ever  felt  for  the  glory  and  advantage 
of  the  Spanish  crown,  declaring  that  if  at  any  time 
he  had  erred,  it  had  been  through  inexperience  in 
government,  and  the  extraordinary  difficulties  by 
which  he  had  been  surrounded. 

There  needed  no  vindication  on  his  part.  The 
intemperance  of  his  enemies  had  been  his  best 
advocate.  He  stood  in  presence  of  his  sovereigns 
a  deeply-injured  man,  and  it  remained  for  them 
to  vindicate  themselves  to  the  world  from  the 
charge  of  ingratitude  toward  their  most  deserving 
subject.  They  expressed  their  indignation  at  the 
proceedings  of  Bobadilla,  which  they  disavowed, 
as  contrary  to  their  instructions,  and  declared  that 
he  should  be  immediately  dismissed  from  his  com- 
mand. 

In  fact,  no  public  notice  was  taken  of  the 
charges  sent  home  by  Bobadilla,  nor  of  the  letters 
written  in  support  of  them.  The  sovereigns  took 
every  occasion  to  treat  Columbus  with  favor  and 
distinction,  assuring  him  that  his  grievances 
should  be  redressed,  his  property  restored,  and 
he  reinstated  in  all  his  privileges  and  dignities. 

It  was  on  the  latter  point  that  Columbus  was 
chiefly  solicitous.  Mercenary  considerations  ha. I 
scarcely  any  weight  in  his  mind.  Glory  had  been 
the  great  object  of  his  ambition,  and  he  felt  that, 
as  long  as  he  remained  suspended  from  his  employ- 
ments, a  tacit  censure  rested  on  his  name.  He  ex- 
pected, therefore,  that  the  moment  the  sovereigns 
should  be  satisfied  of  the  rectitude  of  his  conduct, 
they  would  be  eager  to  make  him  amends  ;  that  a 
restitution  of  his  viceroyalty  would  immediately 
take  place,  and  he  should  return  in  triumph  to  San 
Domingo.  Here,  however,  he  was  doomed  to  ex- 
perience a  disappointment  which  threw  a  gloom 
overthe  remainder  of  his  days.  To  account  for 
this  flagrant  want  of  justice  and  gratitude  in  the 
crown,  it  is  expedient  to  notice  a  variety  of  events 
which  had  materially  affected  the  interests  of  Co- 
lumbus in  the  eyes  of  the  politic  Ferdinand. 


CHAPTER   II. 
CONTEMPORARY  VOYAGES   OF  DISCOVERY. 

THE  general  license  granted  by  the  Spanish 
sovereigns  in  1495,  to  undertake  voyages  of  dis- 
covery, had  given  rise  to  various  expeditions  by 
enterprising  individuals,  chiefly  persons  who  had 
sailed  with  Columbus  in  his  first  voyages.  The 
government,  unable  to  fit  out  many  armaments 
itself,  was  pleased  to  have  its  territories  thus  ex- 
tended, free  of  cost,  and  its  treasury  at  the  same 
time  benefited  by  the  share  of  the  proceeds  of 
these  voyages,  reserved  as  a  kind  of  duty  to  the 
crown.  These  expeditions  had  chiefly  taken  place 
while  Columbus  was  in  partial  disgrace  with  the 
sovereigns.  His  own  charts  and  journal  served 
as  guides  to  the  adventurers  ;  and  his  magnificent 
accounts  of  Paria  and  the  adjacent  coasts  had 
chiefly  excited  their  cupidity. 

Besides  the  expedition  of  Ojeda,  already  noticed, 
in  the  course  of  which  he  touched  at  Xaragua, 
one  had  been  undertaken  at  the  same  time  by 
Pedro  Alonzo  Nifio,  native  of  Moguer,  an  able 
pilot,  who  had  been  with  Columbus  in  the  voyages 
to  Cuba  and  Paria.  Having  obtained  a  license, 
he  interested  a  rich  merchant  of  Seville  in  the  un- 
dertaking, who  fitted  out  a  caravel  of  fifty  tons 
burden,  under  condition  that  his  brother  Chris- 
toval  Guevra  should  have  the  command.  They 
sailed  from  the  bar  of  Saltes,  a  few  days  after 


178 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Ojeda  had  sailed  from  Cadiz,  in  the  spring  of  1499, 
and  arriving  on  the  coast  of  Terra  Firma,  to  the 
south  of  Paria,  ran  along  it  for  some  distance, 
passed  through  the  Gulf,  and  thence  went  one 
hundred  and  thirty  leagues  along  the  shore  of  the 
present  republic  of  Colombia,  visiting  what  was 
afterward  called  the  Pearl  Coast.  They  landed  in 
various  places  ;  disposed  of  their  European  trifles 
to  immense  profit,  and  returned  with  a  large  store 
of  gold  and  pearls  ;  having  made,  in  their  diminu- 
tive bark,  one  of  the  most  extensive  and  lucrative 
voyages  yet  accomplished. 

About  the  same  time  the  Pinzons,  that  family 
of  bold  and  opulent  navigators,  fitted  out  an  arma- 
ment of  four  caravels  at  Palos,  manned  in  a  great 
measure  by  their  own  relations  and  friends.  Sev- 
eral experienced  pilots  embarked  in  it  who  had 
been  with  Columbus  to  Paria,  and  it  was  com- 
manded by  Vicente  Yafiez  Pinzon,  who  had  been 
captain  of  a  caravel  in  the  squadron  of  the  ad- 
miral on  his  first  voyage. 

Pinzon  was  a  hardy  and  experienced  seaman, 
and  did  not,  like  the  others,  follow  closely  in  the 
track  of  Columbus.  Sailing  in  December,  1499, 
he  passed  the  Canary  and  Cape  de  Verde  Islands, 
standing  south-west  until  he  lost  sight  of  the  polar 
star.  Here  he  encountered  a  terrible  storm,  and 
was  exceedingly  perplexed  and  confounded  by  the 
new  aspect  of  the  heavens.  Nothing  \vas  yet 
known  of  the  southern  hemisphere,  nor  of  the 
beautiful  constellation  of  the  cross,  which  in  those 
regions  has  since  supplied  to  mariners  the  place 
of  the  north  star.  The  voyagers  had  expected  to 
find  at  the  south  pole  a  star  correspondent  to  that 
of  the  north.  They  were  dismayed  at  beholding 
no  guide  of  the  kind,  and  thought  there  must  be 
some  prominent  swelling  of  the  earth,  which  'hid 
the  pole  from  their  view.* 

Pinzon  continued  on,  however,  with  great  intre- 
pidity. On  the  26th  of  January,  1500,  he  saw,  at 
a  distance,  a  great  headland,  which  he  called 
Cape  Santa  Maria  de  la  Consolacion,  but  which 
has  since  been  named  Cape  St.  Augustine.  He 
landed  and  took  possession  of  the  country  in  the 
name  of  their  Catholic  majesties  ;  being  a  part  of 
the  territories  since  called  the  Brazils.  Standing 
thence  westward,  he  discovered  the  Maragnon, 
since  called  the  River  of  the  Amazons  ;  traversed 
the  Gulf  of  Paria,  and  continued  across  the  Carib- 
bean Sea  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  until  he  found 
himself  among  the  Bahamas,  where  he  lost  two 
of  his  vessels  on  the  rocks,  near  the  island  of 
Jumeto.  He  returned  to  Palos  in  September,  hav- 
ing added  to  his  former  glory  that  of  being  the 
first  European  who  had  crossed  the  equinoctial  line 
in  the  western  ocean,  and  of  having  discovered 
the  famous  kingdom  of  Brazil,  from  its  commence- 
ment at  the  River  Maragnon  to  its  most  eastern 
point.  As  a  reward  for  his  achievements,  power 
was  granted  to  him  to  colonize  and  govern  the 
lands  which  he  had  discovered,  and  which  extend- 
ed southward  from  a  little  beyond  the  River  of 
Maragnon  to  Cape  St.  Augustine. f 

The  little  port  of  Palos,  which  had  been  so  slow 
in  furnishing  the  first  squadron  for  Columbus, 
was  now  continually  agitated  by  the  passion  for 
discovery.  Shortly  after  the  sailing  of  Pinzon, 
another  expedition  was  fitted  out  there,  by  Diego 
Lepe,  a  native  of  the  place,  and  manned  by  his 
adventurous  townsmen.  He  sailed  in  the  same 
direction  with  Pinzon,  but  discovered  more  ot  the 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  i.  lib.  ix. 
t  Herrcra,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  12.     Munoz,  Hist. 
N.  Mundo,  part  unpublished. 


southern  continent  than  any  other  voyager  of  the 
day,  or  for  twelve  years  afterward.  He  doubled 
Cape  St.  Augustine,  and  ascertained  that  the 
coast  beyond  ran  to  the  south-west.  He  landed 
and  performed  the  usual  ceremonies  of  taking 
possession  in  the  name  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns, 
and  in  one  place  carved  their  names  on  a  magnifi- 
cent tree,  of  such  enormous  magnitude  that  sev- 
enteen men  with  their  hands  joined  could  not  em- 
brace the  trunk.  What  enhanced  the  merit  of  his 
discoveries  was,  that  he  had  never  sailed  with  Co- 
lumbus. He  had  with  him,  however,  several  skil- 
ful pilots,  who  had  accompanied  the  admiral  in 
his  voyage.* 

Another  expedition  of  two  vessels  sailed  from 
Cadiz,  in  October,  1500,  under  the  command  of 
Rodrigo  Bastides  of  Seville.  He  explored  the 
coast  of  Terra  Firma,  passing  Cape  de  la  Vela, 
the  western  limits  of  the  previous  discoveries  on 
the  main-land,  continuing  on  to  a  port  since  called 
The  Retreat,  where  afterward  was  founded  the 
seaport  of  Nombre  de  Dios.  His  vessels  being 
nearly  destroyed  by  the  teredo,  or  worm  which 
abounds  in  those  seas,  he  had  great  difficulty  in 
reaching  Xaragua  in  Hispaniola,  where  he  lost 
his  two  caravels,  and  proceeded  with  his  crew  by 
land  to  San  Domingo.  Here  he  was  seized  and 
imprisoned  by  Bobadilla,  under  pretext  that  he 
had  treated  for  gold  with  the  natives  of  Xaragua.f 

Such  was  the  swarm  of  Spanish  expeditions  im- 
mediately resulting  from  the  enterprises  of  Co- 
lumbus ;  but  others  were  also  undertaken  by 
foreign  nations.  In  the  year  1497,  Sebastian 
Cabot,  son  of  a  Venetian  merchant  resident  in 
Bristol,  sailing  in  the  sen-ice  of  Henry  VII.  of 
England,  navigated  to  the  northern  seas  ot  the 
New  World.  Adopting  the  idea  of  Columbus,  he 
sailed  in  quest  of  the  shores  of  Cathay,  and  hoped 
to  find  a  north-west  passage  to  India.  In  this  voy- 
age he  discovered  Newfoundland,  coasted  Labra- 
dor to  the  fifty-sixth  degree  of  north  latitude,  and 
then  returning,  ran  down  southwest  to  the  Flori- 
das,  when,  his  provisions  beginning  to  fail,  he  re- 
turned to  England.  J  But  vague  and  scanty  ac- 
counts of  this  voyage  exist,  which  was  important, 
as  including  the  first  discovery  of  the  northern 
continent  of  the  New  World. 

The  discoveries  ot  rival  nations,  however, 
which  most  excited  the  attention  and  jealousy  of 
the  Spanish  crown,  were  those  of  the  Portuguese. 
Vasco  de  Gama,  a  man  of  rank  and  consummate 
talent  and  intrepidity,  had,  at  length,  accomplish- 
ed the  great  design  of  the  late  Prince  Henry  of 
Portugal,  and  by  doubling  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  in  the  year  1497,  had  opened  the  long- 
sought-for  route  to  India. 

Immediately  after  Gama's  return  a  fleet  of  thir- 
teen sail  was  fitted  out  to  visit  the  magnificent 
countries  of  which  he  brought  accounts.  This 
expedition  sailed  on  the  gth  of  March,  1500,  for 
Calicut,  under  the  command  of  Pedro  Alvarez  de 
Cabral.  Having  passed  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands, 
he  sought  to  avoid  the  calms  prevalent  on  the 
coast  of  Guinea,  by  stretching  far  to  the  west. 
Suddenly,  on  the  25th  of  April,  he  came  in  sight 
of  land  unknown  to  any  one  in  his  squadron  ;  for, 
as  yet,  they  had  not  heard  of  the  discoveries  of 
Pinzon  and  Lepe.  He  at  first  supposed  it  to  be 
some  great  island  ;  but  after  coasting  it  for  some 
time  he  became  persuaded  that  it  must  be  part  of 


*  Las  Casas,   Hist.    Ind. ,  lib.   ii.   cap.  2.     Mufioz, 
part  unpublished, 
f  Ibid. 
J  Hakluyt's  Collection  of  Voyages,  vol.  iii.  p.  7- 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


179 


a  continent.  Having  ranged  along  it  somewhat  be- 
yond the  fifteenth  degree  of  southern  latitude,  he 
landed  at  a  harbor  which  he  called  Porto  Secure, 
and  taking  possession  of  the  country  for  the  crown 
of  Portugal,  dispatched  a  ship  to  Lisbon  with  the 
important  tidings.*  In  this  way  did  the  Brazils 
come  into  the  possession  of  Portugal,  being  to  the 
eastward  of  the  conventional  line  settled  with 
Spain  as  the  boundaries  of  their  respective  terri- 
tories. Dr.  Robertson,  in  recording  this  voyage 
of  Cabral,  concludes  with  one  of  his  just  and  ele- 
gant remarks  : 

"Columbus's  discovery  of  the  New  World 
was,"  he  observes,  "  the  effort  of  an  active  genius, 
guided  by  experience,  and  acting  upon  a  regular 
plan,  executed  with  no  less  courage  than  persever- 
ance. But  from  this  adventure  of  the  Portuguese, 
it  appears  that  chance  might  have  accomplished 
that  great  design,  which  it  is  now  the  pride  of  hu- 
man reason  to  have  formed  and  perfected.  If  the 
sagacity  of  Columbus  had  not  conducted  mankind 
to  America,  Cabral,  by  a  fortunate  accident, 
might  have  led  them,  a  few  years  later,  to  the 
knowledge  of  that  extensive  continent.''! 


CHAPTER  III. 

NICHOLAS   DE   OVANDO  APPOINTED  TO  SUPERSEDE 
BOBADILLA. 


THE  numerous  discoveries  briefly  noticed  in  the 
preceding  chapter  had  produced  -JL  powerful  effect 
upon  the  mind  of  Ferdinand.  His  ambition,  his 
avarice,  and  his  jealousy  were  equally  inflamed. 
He  beheld  boundless  regions,  teeming  with  all 
kinds  of  riches,  daily  opening  before  the  enter- 
prises of  his  subjects  ;  but  he  beheld  at  the  same 
time  other  nations  launching  forth  into  competi- 
tion, emulous  for  a  share  of  the  golden  world 
which  he  was  eager  to  monopolize.  The  expedi- 
tions of  the  English  and  the  accidental  discovery 
of  the  Brazils  by  the  Portuguese  caused  him 
much  uneasiness.  To  secure  his  possession  of 
the  continent,  he  determined  to  establish  local  gov- 
ernments or  commands  in  the  most  important 
places,  all  to  be  subject  to  a  general  government, 
established  at  San  Domingo,  which  was  to  be  the 
metropolis. 

With  these  considerations,  the  government, 
heretofore  granted  to  Columbus,  had  risen  vastly 
in  importance  ;  and  while  the  restitution  of  it  was 
the  more  desirable  in  his  eyes,  it  became  more 
and  more  a  matter  of  repugnance  to  the  selfish 
and  jealous  monarch.  He  had  long  repented  hay- 
ing vested  such  great  powers  and  prerogatives  in 
any  subject,  particularly  in  a  foreigner.  At  the 
time  of  granting  them  he  had  no  anticipation  of 
such  boundless  countries  to  be  placed  under  his 
command.  He  appeared  almost  to  consider  him- 
self outwitted  by  Columbus  in  the  arrangement  ; 
and  every  succeeding  discovery,  instead  of  in- 
creasing his  grateful  sense  of  the  obligation,  only 
made  him  repine  the  more  at  the  growing  magni- 
tude of  the  reward.  At  length,  however,  the  af- 
fair of  BobacHlla  had  effected  a  temporary  exclu- 
sion of  Columbus  from  his  high  office,  and  that 
without  any  odium  to  the  crown,  and  the  wary 
monarch  secretly  determined  that  the  door  thus 


*  Lafiteau,  Conquetes  des  Portugais,  lib.  ii. 
\  Robertson,  Hist.  America,  book  ii. 


closed  between  him  and  his  dignities  should  never 
again  be  opened. 

Perhaps  Ferdinand  may  really  have  entertained 
doubts  as  to  the  innocence  of  Columbus,  with  re- 
spect to  the  various  charges  made  against  him. 
He  may  have  doubted  also  the  sincerity  of  his 
loyalty,  being  a  stranger,  when  he  should  find 
himself  strong  in  his  command,  at  a  great  dis- 
tance from  the  parent  country,  with  immense  and 
opulent  regions  under  his  control.  Columbus 
himself,  in  his  letters,  alludes  to  reports  circulated 
by  his  enemies,  that  he  intended  either  to  set  up 
an  independent  sovereignty,  or  to  deliver  his  dis- 
coveries into  the  hands  of  other  potentates  ;  and 
he  appears  to  fear  that  these  slanders  might  have 
made  some  impression  on  the  mind  of  Ferdinand. 
But  there  was  one  other  consideration  which  had 
no  less  force  with  the  monarch  in  withholding  this 
great  act  of  justice — Columbus  was  no  longer  in- 
dispensable to  him.  He  had  made  his  great  dis- 
covery ;  he  had  struck  out  the  route  to  the  New 
World,  and  now  any  one  could  follow  it.  A  num- 
ber of  able  navigators  had  sprung  up  under  his 
auspices,  and  acquired  experience  in  his  voyages. 
They  were  daily  besieging  the  throne  with  offers 
to  nt  out  expeditions  at  their  own  cost,  and  to 
yield  a  share  of  the  profits  to  the  crown.  Why- 
should  he,  therefore,  confer  princely  dignities  and 
prerogatives  for  that  which  men  were  daily  offer- 
ing to  perform  gratuitously  ? 

Such,  from  his  after  conduct,  appears  to  have 
been  the  jealous  and  selfish  policy  which  actuated 
Ferdinand  in  forbearing  to  reinstate  Columbus  in 
those  dignities  and  privileges  so  solemnly  granted 
to  him  by  treaty,  and  which  it  was  acknowledged 
he  had  never  forfeited  by  misconduct. 

This  deprivation,  however,  was  declared  to  be 
but  temporary  ;  and  plausible  reasons  were  given 
for  the  delay  in  his  reappointment.  It  was  ob- 
served that  the  elements  of  those  violent  factions, 
recently  in  arms  against  him,  yet  existed  in  the 
island  ;  his  immediate  return  might  produce  fresh 
exasperation  ;  his  personal  safety  might  be  endan- 
gered, and  the  island  again  thrown  into  confusion. 
Though  Bobaclilla,  therefore,  was  to  be  immedi- 
ately dismissed  from  command,  it  was  deemed 
advisable  to  send  out  some  officer  of  talent  and 
discretion  to  supersede  him,  who  might  dispas- 
sionately investigate  the  recent  disorders,  remedy 
the  abuses  which  had  arisen,  and  expel  all  disso- 
lute and  factious  persons  from  the  colony.  He 
should  hold  the  government  for  two  years,  by 
which  time  it  was  trusted  that  all  angry  passions 
would  be  allayed,  and  turbulent  individuals  re- 
moved ;  Columbus  might  then  resume  the  com- 
mand with  comfort  to  himself  and  advantage  to 
the  crown.  With  these  reasons,  and  the  promise 
which  accompanied  them,  Columbus  was  obliged 
to  content  himself.  There  can  be  no  doubt  th.it 
they  were  sincere  on  the  part  of  Isabella,  and  that 
it  was  her  intention  to  reinstate  him  in  the  full  en- 
joyment of  his  rights  and  dignities,  after  his  ap- 
parently necessary  suspension.  Ferdinand,  how- 
ever, by  his  subsequent  conduct,  has  forfeited  all 
claim  to  any  favorable  opinion  of  the  kind. 

The  person  chosen  to  supersede  Bobadilla  was 
Don  Nicholas  de  Ovando,  commander  of  Lares, 
of  the  order  of  Alcantara.  He  is  described  as  of 
the  middle  size,  fair  complexioned,  with  a  red 
beard,  and  a  modest  look,  yet  a  tone  of  authority. 
He  was  fluent  in  speech,  and  gracious  and  court- 
eous in  his  manners.  A  man  of  great  prudence, 
says  Las  Casas,  and  capable  of  governing  many 
people,  but  not  of  governing  the  Indians,  o:\ 
whom  he  inflicted  incalculable  injuries.  He  poj- 


180 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


sessed  great  veneration  for  justice,  was  an  enemy 
to  avarice,  sober  in  his  mode  of  living,  and  of  such 
humility  that  when  he  rose  afterward  to  be  grand 
commander  of  the  order  of  Alcantara,  he  would 
never  allow  himself  to  be  addressed  by  the  title  of 
respect  attached  to  it.*  Such  is  the  picture  drawn 
of  him  by  historians  ;  but  his  conduct  in  several 
important  instances  is  in  direct  contradiction  to  it. 
He  appears  to  have  been  plausible  and  subtle,  as 
well  as  fluent  and  courteous  ;  his  humility  con- 
cealed a  great  love  of  command,  and  in  his  trans- 
actions with  Columbus  he  was  certainly  both  un- 
g^nerous  and  unjust. 

The  various  arrangements  to  be  made,  according 
ID  the  new  plan  of  colonial  government,  delayed 
for  some  time  the  departure  of  Ovanclo.  In  the 
mean  time  every  arrival  brought  intelligence  of 
the  disastrous  state  of  the  island  under  the  mal- 
administration of  Bobadilla.  He  had  commenced 
his  career  by  an  opposite  policy  to  that  of  Colum- 
bus. Imagining  that  rigorous  rule  had  been  the 
rock  on  which  his  predecessors  had  split,  he 
sought  to  conciliate  the  public  by  all  kinds  of  in- 
dulgence. Having  at  the  very  outset  relaxed  the 
reins  of  justice  and  morality,  he  lost  all  command 
over  the  community  ;  and  such  disorder  and  li- 
centiousness ensued  that  many,  even  of  the  op- 
ponents of  Columbus,  looked  back  with  regret 
upon  the  strict  but  wholesome  rule  of  himself  and 
the  Adelantado. 

Bobadilla  was  not  so  much  a  bad  as  an  impru- 
dent and  a  weak  man.  He  had  not  considered 
the  dangerous  excesses  to  which  his  policy  would 
lead.  Rash  in  grasping  authority,  he  was  feeble 
and  temporizing  in  the  exercise  of  it  ;  he  could  not 
look  beyond  the  present  exigency.  One  dangerous 
indulgence  granted  to  the  colonists  called  for 
another  ;  each  was  ceded  in  its  turn,  and  thus  he 
went  on  from  error  to  error — showing  that  in  gov- 
ernment there  is  as  much  danger  to  be  appre- 
hended from  a  weak  as  from  a  bad  man. 

He  had  sold  the  farms  and  estates  of  the  crown 
at  low  prices,  observing  that  it  was  not  the  wish 
of  the  monarchs  to  enrich  themselves  by  them, 
but  that  they  should  redound  to  the  profit  of  their 
subjects.  He  granted  universal  permission  to 
work  the  mines,  exacting  only  an  eleventh  of  the 
produce  for  the  crown.  To  prevent  any  diminu- 
tion in  the  revenue,  it  became  necessary,  of 
course,  to  increase  the  quantity  of  gold  collected. 
He  obliged  the  caciques,  therefore,  to  furnish 
each  Spaniard  with  Indians,  to  assist  him  both  in 
the  labors  of  the  field  and  of  the  mine.  To  carry 
this  into  more  complete  effect,  he  made  an  enu- 
meration of  the  natives  of  the  island,  reduced 
them  into  classes,  and  distributed  them,  accord- 
ing to  his  favor  or  caprice,  among  the  colonists. 
The  latter,  at  his  suggestion,  associated  them- 
selves in  partnerships  of  two  persons  each,  who 
were  to  assist  one  another  with  their  respective 
capitals  and  Indians,  one  superintending  the  la- 
bors of  the  field,  and  the  other  the  search  for  gold. 
The  only  injunction  of  Bobadilla  was  to  produce 
large  quantities  of  ore.  He  had  one  saying  con- 
tinually in  his  mouth,  which  shows  the  pernicious 
and  temporizing  principle  upon  which  he  acted  : 
"Make  the  most  of  your  time,"  he  would  say  ; 
"  there  is  no  knowing  how  long  it  will  last,"  al- 
luding to  the  possibility  of  his  being  speedily  re- 
called. The  colonists  acted  up  to  his  advice,  and 
so  hard  did  they  drive  the  poor  natives  that  the 
eleventh  yielded  more  revenue  to  the  crown  than 
had  ever  been  produced  by  the  third  under  the 


Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  3. 


government  of  Columbus.  In  the  mean  time  the 
unhappy  natives  suffered  under  all  kinds  of  cruel- 
ties from  their  inhuman  taskmasters.  Little  used 
to  labor,  feeble  of  constitution,  and  accustomed  in 
their  beautiful  and  luxuriant  island  to  a  life  of  ease 
and  freedom,  they  sank  under  the  toils  imposed 
upon  them,  and  the  severities  by  which  they  were 
enforced.  Las  Casas  gives  an  indignant  picture  of 
the  capricious  tyranny  exercised  over  the  Indians 
by  worthless  Spaniards,  many  of  whom  had  been 
transported  convicts  from  the  dungeons  of  Castile. 
These  wretches,  who  in  their  own  countries  had 
been  the  vilest  among  the  vile,  here  assumed  the 
tone  of  grand  cavaliers.  They  insisted  upon  being 
attended  by  trains  of  servants.  They  took  the 
daughters  and  female  relations  of  caciques  for 
their  domestics,  or  rather  for  their  concubines, 
nor  did  they  limit  themselves  in  number.  When 
they  travelled,  instead  of  using  the  horses  and 
mules  with  which  they  were  provided,  they  obliged 
the  natives  to  transport  them  upon  their  shoulders 
in  litters,  or  hammocks,  with  others  attending  to 
hold  umbrellas  of  palm-leaves  over  their  heads  to 
keep  off  the  sun,  and  fans  of  feathers  to  cool 
them  ;  and  Las  Casas  affirms  that  he  has  seen  the 
backs  and  shoulders  of  the  unfortunate  Indians 
who  bore  these  litters,  raw  and  bleeding  from  the 
task.  When  these  arrogant  upstarts  arrived  at 
an  Indian  village  they  consumed  and  lavished 
away  the  provisions  of  the  inhabitants,  seizing 
upon  whatever  pleased  their  caprice,  and  obliging 
the  cacique  and  his  subjects  to  dance  before  them 
for  their  amusement.  Their  very  pleasures  were 
attended  with  cruelty.  They  never  addressed  the 
natives  but  in  the  most  degrading  terms,  and  on 
the  least  offence,  or  the  least  freak  of  ill-humor, 
inflicted  blows  and  lashes,  and  even  death  itself.* 

Such  is  but  a  faint  picture  of  the  evils  which 
sprang  up  under  the  feeble  rule  of  Bobadilla,  and 
are  sorrowfully  described  by  Las  Casas,  from  ac- 
tual observation,  as  he  visited  the  island  just  at  the 
close  of  his  administration.  Bobadilla  had  trusted 
to  the  immense  amount  of  gold,  wrung  from  the 
miseries  of  the  natives,  to  atone  for  all  errors,  and 
secure  favor  with  the  sovereigns  ;  but  he  had  to- 
tally mistaken  his  course.  The  abuses  of  his  gov- 
ernment soon  reached  the  royal  ear,  and  above  all, 
the  wrongs  of  the  natives  reached  the  benevolent 
heart  of  Isabella.  Nothing  was  more  calculated 
to  arouse  her  indignation,  and  she  urged  the 
speedy  departure  of  Ovando,  to  put  a  stop  to  these 
enormities. 

In  conformity  to  the  plan  already  mentioned,  the 
government  of  Ovando  extended  over  the  islands 
and  Terra  Firma,  of  which  Hispaniola  was  to  be 
the  metropolis.  He  was  to  enter  upon  the  exer- 
cise of  his  powers  immediately  upon  his  arrival, 
by  procuration,  sending  home  Bobadilla  by  the 
return  of  the  fleet.  He  was  instructed  to  inquire 
diligently  into  the  late  abuses,  punishing  the  de- 
linquents without  favor  or  partiality,  and  remov- 
ing all  worthless  persons  from  the  island.  He 
was  to  revoke  immediately  the  license  granted  by 
Bobadilla  for  the  general  search  after  gold,  it  hav- 
ing been  given  without  royal  authority.  He  was 
to  require,  for  the  crown,  a  third  of  what  was  al- 
ready collected,  and  one  half  of  all  that  should  be 
collected  in  future.  He  was  empowered  to  build 
towns,  granting  them  the  privileges  enjoyed  by 
municipal  corporations  of  Spain,  and  obliging 
the  Spaniards,  and  particularly  the  soldiers,  to 
reside  in  them,  instead  of  scattering  themselves 
over  the  island.  Among  many  sage  provisions 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  i,  MS. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


181 


there  were  others  injurious  and  illiberal,  char- 
acteristic of  an  age  when  the  principles  of  com- 
merce were  but  little  understood,  but  which  were 
continued  by  Spain  long  after  the  rest  of  the  world 
had  discarded  them  as  the  errors  of  dark  and  un- 
enlightened times.  The  crown  monopolized  the 
trade  of  the  colonies.  No  one  could  carry  mer- 
chandises there  on  his  own  account.  A  royal 
factor  was  appointed,  through  whom  alone  were 
to  be  obtained  supplies  of  European  articles.  The 
crown  reserved  to  itself  not  only  exclusive  prop- 
erty in  the  mines,  but  in  precious  stones,  and  like 
objects  of  extraordinary  value,  and  also  in  dye- 
woods.  "No  strangers,  and  above  all,  no  Moors 
nor  Jews,  were  permitted  to  establish  themselves 
in  the  island,  nor  to  go  upon  voyages  of  discovery. 
Such  were  some  of  the  restrictions  upon  trade 
which  Spain  imposed  upon  her  colonies,  and  which 
were  followed  up  by  others  equally  illiberal.  Her 
commercial  policy  has  been  the  scoff  of  modern 
times  ;  but  may  not  the  present  restrictions  on 
trade,  imposed  by  the  most  intelligent  nations,  be 
equally  the  wonder  and  the  jest  of  future  ages  ? 

Isabella  was  particularly  careful  in  providing  for 
the  kind  treatment  of  the  Indians.  Ovando  was 
ordered  to  assemble  the  caciques,  and  declare  to 
them  that  the  sovereigns  took  them  and  their  peo- 
ple under  their  especial  protection.  They  were 
merely  to  pay  tribute  like  other  subjects  of  the 
crown,  and  it  was  to  be  collected  with  the  utmost 
mildness  and  gentleness.  Great  pains  were  to  be 
taken  in  their  religious  instruction  ;  for  which 
purpose  twelve  Franciscan  friars  were  sent  out, 
with  a  prelate  named  Antonio  de  Espinal,  a  ven- 
erable and  pious  man.  This  was  the  first  formal 
introduction  of  the  Franciscan  order  into  the  New 
World.* 

All  these  precautions  with  respect  to  the  natives 
were  defeated  by  one  unwary  provision.  It  was 
permitted  that  the  Indians  might  be  compelled  to 
work  in  the  mines,  and  in  other  employments  ; 
but  this  was  limited  to  the  royal  service.  They 
were  to  be  engaged  as  hired  laborers,  and  punc- 
tually paid.  This  provision  led  to  great  abuses 
and  oppressions,  and  was  ultimately  as  fatal  to  the 
natives  as  could  have  been  the  most  absolute  sla- 
very. 

But,  with  that  inconsistency  frequent  in  human 
conduct,  while  the  sovereigns  were  making  regu- 
lations for  the  relief  of  the  Indians,  they  encour- 
aged a  gross  invasion  of  the  rights  and  welfare  of 
another  race  of  human  beings.  Among  their 
various  decrees  on  this  occasion,  we  find  the  first 
trace  of  negro  slavery  in  the  New  World.  It  was 
permitted  to  carry  to  the  colony  negro  slaves  born 
among  Christians  ;  f  that  is  to  say,  slaves  born  in 
Seville  and  other  parts  of  Spain,  the  children  and 
descendants  of  natives  brought  from  the  Atlantic 
coast  of  Africa,  where  such  traffic  had  for  some 
time  been  carried  on  by  the  Spaniards  and  Portu- 
guese. There  are  signal  events  in  the  course  of 
history,  which  sometimes  bear  the  appearance  of 
temporal  judgments.  It  is  a  fact  worthy  of  obser- 
vation that  Hispaniola,  the  place  where  this  fla- 
grant sin  against  nature  and  humanity  was  first  in- 
troduced into  the  New  World,  has  been  the  first 
to  exhibit  an  awful  retribution. 

Amid  the  various  concerns  which  claimed  the 
attention  of  the  sovereigns,  the  interests  of  Colum- 
bus were  not  forgotten.  Ovando  was  ordered  to 
examine  into  all  his  accounts,  without  undertak- 
ing to  pay  them  off.  He  was  to  ascertain  the 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  3,  MS. 

t  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  iv.  cap.  12. 


damages  he  had  sustained  by  his  imprisonment, 
the  interruption  of  his  privileges,  and  the  confis- 
cation of  his  effects.  All  the  property  confiscated 
by  Bobadilla  was  to  be  restored  ;  or  if  it  had  been 
sold,  to  be  made  good.  If  it  had  been  employed 
in  the  royal  service,  Columbus  was  to  be  indem- 
nified out  of  the  treasury  ;  if  Bobadilla  had  appro- 
priated it  to  his  own  use,  he  was  to  account  ior 
it  out  of  his  private  purse.  Equal  care  was  to  be 
taken  to  indemnify  the  brothers  of  the  admiral  for 
the  losses  they  had  wrongfully  suffered  by  their 
arrest. 

Columbus  was  likewise  to  receive  the  arrears  of 
his  revenues,  and  the  same  were  to  be  punctually 
paid  to  him  in  future.  He  was,permitted  to  have 
a  factor  resident  in  the  island,  to  be  present  at  the 
melting  and  marking  of  the  gold,  to  collect  his 
dues,  and  in  short  to  attend  to  all  his  affairs.  To 
this  office  he  appointed  Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Carva- 
jal  ;  and  the  sovereigns  commanded  that  his  agent 
should  be  treated  with  great  respect. 

The  fleet  appointed  to  convey  Ovando  to  his 
government  was  the  largest  that  had  yet  sailed  to 
the  New  World.  It  consisted  of  thirty  sail,  five 
of  them  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons 
burden,  twenty-four  caravels  from  thirty  to  ninety, 
and  one  bark  of  twenty-five  tons.*  The  number 
of  souls  embarked  in  this  fleet  was  about  twenty- 
five  hundred  ;  many  of  them  persons  of  rank  and 
distinction,  with  their  families. 

That  Ovando  might  appear  with  dignity  in  his 
new  office,  he  was  allowed  to  use  silks,  brocades, 
precious  stones,  and  other  articles  of  sumptuous 
attire,  prohibited  at  that  time  in  Spain,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  ruinous  ostentation  of  the  nobility. 
He  was  permitted  to  have  seventy-two  esquires  as 
his  body-guard,  ten  of  whom  were  horsemen. 
With  this  expedition  sailed  Don  Alonzo  Maldo- 
nado,  appointed  as  alguazil  mayor,  or  chief  jus- 
tice, in  place  of  Roldan,  who  was  to  be  sent  to 
Spain.  There  were  artisans  of  various  kinds  :  to 
these  were  added  a  physician,  surgeon,  and 
apothecary  ;  and  seventy-three  married  men  f 
with  their  families,  all  of  respectable  character, 
destined  to  be  distributed  in  four  towns,  and  to 
enjoy  peculiar  privileges,  that  they  might  form  the 
basis  of  a  sound  and  useful  population.  They 
were  to  displace  an  equal  number  of  the  idle  and 
dissolute  who  were  to  be  sent  from  the  island  : 
this  excellent  measure  had  been  especially  urged 
and  entreated  by  Columbus.  There  was  also  live 
stock,  artillery,  arms,  munitions  of  all  kinds  ; 
everything,  in  short,  that  was  required  for  the 
supply  of  the  island. 

Such  was  the  style  in  which  Ovando,  a  favorite 
of  Ferdinand,  and  a  native  subject  of  rank,  was 
fitted  out  to  enter  upon  the  government  withheld 
from  Columbus.  The  fleet  put  to  sea  on  the  thir- 
teenth of  February,  1502.  In  the  early  part  of  the 
voyage  it  was  encountered  by  a  terrible  storm  ; 
one  of  the  ships  foundered,  with  one  hundred  and 
twenty  passengers  ;  the  others  were  obliged  to 
throw  overboard  everything  on  deck,  and  were 
completely  scattered.  The  shores  of  Spain  were 
strewed  with  articles  from  the  fleet,  and  a  rumor 
spread  that  all  the  ships  had  perished.  When  this 
reached  the  sovereigns,  they  were  so  overcome 
with  grief  that  they  shut  themselves  up  for  eight 
days,  and  admitted  no  one  to  their  presence.  The 
rumor  proved  to  be  incorrect  :  but  one  ship  was 


*  Mufioz,  part  inedit.  Las  Casas  says  the  fleet  con- 
sisted of  thirty-two  sail.  He  states  from  memory,  how- 
ever ;  Munoz  from  documents. 

f  Mufioz,  H.  N.  Mundo,  part  inedit. 


182 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


lost.  The  others  assembled  again  at  the  island  o 
Gomera  in  the  Canaries,  and  pursuing  their  voy 
age,  arrived  at  San  Domingo  on  the  isth  o 
April.* 


CHAPTER   IV. 

PROPOSITION    OF    COLUMBUS    RELATIVE    TO  THE 
RECOVERY   OF  THE   HOLY   SEPULCHRE. 

[1500-1501.] 

COLUMBUS  remained  in  the  city  of  Granada  up- 
ward of  nine  months,  endeavoring  to  extricate  his 
affairs  from  the  confusion  into  which  they  had 
been  thrown  by  the  rash  conduct  of  Bobadilla, 
and  soliciting  the  restoration  of  his  offices  and 
dignities.  During  this  time  he  constantly  experi- 
enced the  smiles  and  attentions  of  the  sovereigns, 
and  promises  were  repeatedly  made  him  tha*t  he 
should  ultimately  be  reinstated  in  all  his  honors. 
He  had  long  since,  however,  ascertained  the  great 
interval  that  may  exist  between  promise  and  per- 
formance in  a  court.  Had  he  been  of  a  morbid 
and  repining  spirit,  he  had  ample  food  for  misan- 
thropy. He  beheld  the  career  of  glory  which  he 
had  opened,  thronged  by  favored  adventurers  ;  he 
witnessed  preparations  making  to  convey  with  un- 
usual pomp  a  successor  to  that  government  from 
v.'hich  he  had  been  so  wrongfully  and  rudely  eject- 
ed ;  in  the  meanwhile  his  own  career  was  inter- 
rupted, and  as  far  as  public  employ  is  a  gauge  of 
royal  favor,  he  remained  apparently  in  disgrace. 

His  sanguine  temperament  was  not  long  to  be 
depressed  ;  if  checked  in  one  direction  it  broke 
forth  in  another.  His  visionary  imagination  was 
an  internal  light,  which,  in  the  darkest  times,  re- 
pelled all  outward  gloom,  and  filled  his  mind  with 
splendid  images  and  glorious  speculations.  In 
this  time  of  evil,  his  vow  to  furnish,  within  seven 
years  from  the  time  of  his  discovery,  fifty  thousand 
foot  soldiers,  and  five  thousand  horse,  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  holy  sepulchre,  recurred  to  his 
memory  with  peculiar  force.  The  time  had 
elapsed,  but  the  vow  remained  unfulfilled,  and  the 
means  to  perform  it  had  failed  him.  The  New 
World,  with  all  its  treasures,  had  as  yet  produced 
expense  instead  of  profit  ;  and  so  far  from  being 
in  a  situation  to  set  armies  on  foot  by  his  own 
contributions,  he  found  himself  without  property, 
without  power,  and  without  employ. 

Destitute  of  the  means  of  accomplishing  his 
pious  intentions,  he  considered  it  his  duty  to  incite 
the  sovereigns  to  the  enterprise  ;  and  he  felt  em- 
boldened to  do  so,  from  having  originally  pro- 
posed it  as  the  great  object  to  which  the  profits  of 
his  discoveries  should  be  dedicated.  He  set  to 
work,  therefore,  with  his  accustomed  zeal,  to  pre- 
pare arguments  for  the  purpose.  During  the  in- 
tervals of  business,  he  sought  into  the  prophecies 
of  the  holy  Scriptures,  the  writings  of  the  fathers, 
and  all  kinds  of  sacred  and  speculative  sources] 
for  mystic  portents  and  revelations  which  might 
be  construed  to  bear  upon  the  discovery  of  the 
Xe\v  World,  the  conversion  of  the  Gentiles,  and 
the  recovery  of  the  holy  sepulchre  :  three  great 
events  which  he  supposed  to  be  predestined  to 
succeed  each  other.  These  passages,  with  the 
assistance  of  a  Carthusian  friar,  he  arranged  in 
orJer,  illustrated  by  poetry,  and  collected  into  a 


Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  3,  MS. 


manuscript  volume,  to  be  delivered  to  the  sover- 
eigns. He  prepared,  at  the  same  time,  a  long  let- 
ter, written  with  his  usual  fervor  of  spirit  and  sim- 
plicity of  heart.  It  is  one  of  those  singular  com- 
positions which  lay  open  the  visionary  part  of  his 
character,  and  show  the  mystic  and  speculative 
reading  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to  nurture 
his  solemn  and  soaring  imagination. 

In  this  letter  he  urged  the  sovereigns  to  set  on 
foot  a  crusade  for  the  deliverance  of  Jerusalem 
from  the  power  of  the  unbelievers.  He  entreated 
them  not  to  reject  his  present  advice  as  extrava- 
gant and  impracticable,  nor  to  heed  the  discredit 
that  might  be  cast  upon  it  by  others  ;  reminding 
them  that  his  great  scheme  of  discovery  had  orig- 
inally been  treated  with  similar  contempt.  He 
avowed  in  the  fullest  manner  his  persuasion,  that, 
from  his  earliest  infancy,  he  had  been  chosen  by- 
Heaven  for  the  accomplishment  of  those  two  great 
designs,  the  discovery  of  the  New  World,  and  the 
rescQe  of  the  holy  sepulchre.  For  this  purpose, 
in  his  tender  years,  he  had  been  guided  by  a 
divine  impulse  to  embrace  the  profession  of  the 
sea,  a  mode  of  life,  he  observes,  which  produces 
an  inclination  to  inquire  into  the  mysteries  of  na- 
ture ;  and  he  had  been  gifted  with  a'curious  spirit, 
to  read  all  kinds  of  chronicles,  geographical  trea- 
tises, and  works  of  philosophy.  In  meditating 
upon  these,  his  understanding  had  been  opened 
by  the  Deity,  "  as  with  a  palpable  hand,"  so  as  to 
discover  the  navigation  to  the  Indies,  and  he  had 
been  inflamed  with  ardor  to  undertake  the  enter- 
prise. "Animated  as  by  a  heavenly  fire,"  he 
adds,  "  I  came  to  your  highnesses  :  alfwho  heard 
of  my  enterprise  mocked  at  it  ;  all  the  sciences  I 
had  acquired  profited  me  nothing  ;  seven  years 
did  I  pass  in  your  royal  court,  disputing  the  case 
with  persons  of  great  authority  and  learned  in  all 
the  arts,  and  in  the  end  they  decided  that  all  was 
vain.  In  your  highnesses  alone  remained  faith 
and  constancy.  Who  will  doubt  that  this  light 
was  from  the  holy  Scriptures,  illumining  you  as 
well  as  myself  with  rays  of  marvellous  bright- 
ness ?" 

These  ideas,  so  repeatedly,  and  solemnly,  and 
artlessly  expressed,  by  a  man  of  the  fervent  piety 
of  Columbus,  show  how  truly  his  discovery  arose 
from  the  working  of  his  own  mind,  and  not  from 
information  furnished  by  others.  He  considered 
it  a  divine  intimation,  a  light  from  Heaven,  and 
the  fulfilment  of  what  had  been  foretold  by  our 
Saviour  and  the  prophets.  Still  he  regarded  it 
but  as  a  minor  event,  preparatory  to  the  great  en- 
terprise, the  recovery  of  the  holy  sepulchre.  He 
pronounced  it  a  miracle  effected  by  Heaven,  to 
animate  himself  and  others  to  that  holy  undertak- 
ing ;  and  he  assured  the  sovereigns  that,  if  they 
had  faith  in  his  present  as  in  his  former  proposi- 
tion, they  would  assuredly  be  rewarded  with 
equally  triumphant  success.  He  conjured  them 
not  to  heed  the  sneers  of  such  as  might  scoff  at 
lim  as  one  unlearned,  as  an  ignorant  mariner,  a 
worldly  man  ;  reminding  them  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
works  not  merely  in  the  learned,  but  also  in  the 
gnorant  ;  nay,  that  it  reveals  things  to  come,  not 
merely  by  rational  beings,  but  by  prodigies  in 
animals,  and  by  mystic  signs  in  the  air  and  in  the 
leavens. 

The  enterprise  here  suggested  by  Columbus, 
lowever  idle  and  extravagant  it  may  appear  in  the 
present  day,  was  in  unison  with  the  temper  of  the 
imes,  and  of  the  court  to  which  it  was  proposed. 
The  vein  of  mystic  erudition  by  which  it  was  en- 
xorced,  likewise,  was  suited  to  an  age  when  the 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


183 


reveries  of  the  cloister  still  controlled  the  opera- 
tions of  the  cabinet  and  the  camp.  The  spirit  of 
the  crusades  had  not  yet  passed  away.  In  the 
cause  of  the  church,  and  at  the  instigation  of  its 
dignitaries,  every  cavalier  was  ready  to  draw  his 
sword  ;  and  religion  mingled  a  glowing  and  de- 
voted enthusiasm  with  the  ordinary  excitement  of 
warfare.  Ferdinand  was  a  religious  bigot  ;  and 
the  devotion  of  Isabella  went  as  near  to  bigotry  as 
her  liberal  mind  and  magnanimous  spirit  would 
permit.  Both  the  sovereigns  were  under  the  in- 
fluence of  ecclesiastical  politicians,  constantly 
guiding  their  enterprises  in  a  direction  to  redound 
to  the  temporal  power  and  glory  of  the  church. 
The  recent  conquest  of  Granada  had  been  con- 
sidered a  European  crusade,  and  had  gained  to 
the  sovereigns  the  epithet  of  Catholic.  It  was 
natural  to  think  of  extending  their  sacred  victories 
still  further,  and  retaliating  upon  the  infidels  their 
domination  of  Spain  and  their  long  triumphs  over 
the  cross.  In  fact,  the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia 
had  made  a  recent  inroad  into  Barbary,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  had  taken  the  city  of  Melilla, 
and  his  expedition  had  been  pronounced  a  re- 
newal of  the  holy  wars  against  the  infidels  in 
Africa.* 

There  \vas  nothing,  therefore  in  the  proposition 
of  Columbus  that  could  be  regarded  as  preposter- 
ous, considering  the  period  and  circumstances  in 
which  it  was  made, though  it  strongly  illustrates 
his  own  enthusiastic  and  visionary  character.  It 
must  be  recollected  that  it  was  meditated  in  the 
courts  of  the  Alhambra,  among  the  splendid  re- 
mains of  Moorish  grandeur,  where,  but  a  few 
years  before,  he  had  beheld  the  standard  of  the 
faith  elevated  in  triumph  above  the  symbols  of 
infidelity.  It  appears  to  have  been  the  offspring 
of  one  ot  those  moods  of  high  excitement,  when, 
as  has  been  observed,  his  soul  was  elevated  by  the 
contemplation  of  his  great  and  glorious  office  ; 
when  he  considered  himself  under  divine  inspira- 
tion, imparting  the  will  of  Heaven,  and  fulfilling 
the  high  and  holy  purposes  for  which  he  he  had 
been  predestined. | 


*  Garibay,  Hist.  Espafia,  lib.  xix.  cap.  6.  Among 
the  collections  existing  in  the  library  of  the  late  Prince 
Sebastian,  there  is  a  folio  which,  among  other  things, 
contains  a  paper  or  letter,  in  which  is  a  calculation  of 
the  probable  expenses  of  an  army  of  twenty  thousand 
men,  for  the  conquest  of  the  Holy  Land.  It  is  dated 
in  1509  or  1510,  and  the  handwriting  appears  to  be  of 
the  same  time. 

t  Columbus  was  not  singular  in  this  belief ;  it  was 
entertained  by  many  of  his  zealous  and  learned  ad- 
mirers. The  erudite  lapidary,  Jayme  Ferrer,  in  the 
letter  written  to  Columbus  in  1495,  at  the  command 
of  the  sovereigns,  observes  :  "  I  see  in  this  a  great 
mystery  :  the  divine  and  infallible  Providence  sent 
the  great  St.  Thomas  Irom  the  west  into  the  east,  to 
manifest  in  India  our  holy  and  Catholic  faith  ;  and 
you,  Sefior,  he  sent  in  an  opposite  direction,  from  the 
east  into  the  west,  until  you  have  arrived  in  the  Ori- 
ent, into  the  extreme  part  of  Upper  India,  that  the  peo- 
ple rnay  hear  that  which  their  ancestors  neglected  of 
the  preaching  of  St.  Thomas.  Thus  shall  be  accom- 
plished what  was  written,  in  omneni  terrain  exibit 
sonus  eot-urn."  .  .  .  And  again,  "The  office 
which  you  hold,  Senor,  places  you  in  the  light  of 
an  apostle  and  ambassador  of  God,  sent  by  his  di- 
vine judgment,  to  make  known  his  holy  name  in  un- 
known lands."— Letra  de  Mossen  Jayme  Ferrer,  Na- 
varrete  Coleccion,  torn.  ii.  decad.  6S.  See  also  the 
opinion  expressed  by  Agostino  Ginstiniani,  his  con- 
temporary, in  his  Polyglot  Psalter. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PREPARATIONS    OF    COLUMBUS    FOR     A     FOURTH 
VOYAGE  OF  DISCOVERY. 

[I50I-I502.] 

THE  speculation  relative  to  the  recovery  of  the 
holy  sepulchre  held  but  a  temporary  sway  over 
the  mind  of  Columbus.  His  thoughts  soon  re- 
turned, with  renewed  ardor,  to  their  wonted 
channel.  He  became  impatient  of  inaction,  and 
soon  conceived  a  leading  object  for  another  enter- 
prise of  discovery.  The  achievement  of  Vasco  de 
Gama,  of  the  long-attempted  navigation  to  India 
by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  was  one  of  the  signal 
events  of  the  day.  Pedro  Alvarez  Cabral,  follow- 
ing in  his  track,  had  made  a  most  successful  voy- 
age, and  returned  with  his  vessels  laden  with  the 
precious  commodities  of  the  East.  The  riches  of 
Calicut  were  now  the  theme  of  every  tongue,  and 
the  splendid  trade  now  opened  in  diamonds  and 
precious  stones  from  the  mines  of  Hindostan  ;  in 
pearls,  gold,  silver,  amber,  ivory,  and  porcelain  ; 
in  silken  stuffs,  costly  woods,  gums,  aromatics, 
and  spices  of  all  kinds.  The  discoveries  of  the 
savage  regions  of  the  New  World,  as  yet,  brought 
little  revenue  to  Spain  ;  but  this  route,  suddenly 
opened  to  the  luxurious  countries  of  the  East,  was 
pouring  immediate  wealth  into  Portugal. 

Columbus  was  roused  to  emulation  by  these  ac- 
counts. He  now  conceived  the  idea  of  a  voyage, 
in  which,  with  his  usual  enthusiasm,  he  hoped  to 
surpass  not  merely  the  discovery  of  Vasco  de 
Gama,  but  even  those  of  his  own  previous  expedi- 
tions. According  to  his  own  observations  in  his 
voyage  to  Paria,  and  the  reports  of  other  naviga- 
tors, who  had  pursued  the  same  route  to  a  greater 
distance,  it  appeared  that  the  coast  ot  Terra  Firma 
stretched  far  to  the  west.  The  southern  coast  of 
Cuba,  which  he  considered  a  part  of  the  Asiatic 
continent,  stretched  onward  toward  the  same 
point.  The  currents  of  the  Caribbean  Sea  must 
pass  between  those  lands.  He  was  persuaded, 
therefore,  that  there  must  be  a  strait  existing 
somewhere  thereabout,  opening  into  the  Indian 
sea.  The  situation  in  which  he  placed  his  conjec- 
tural strait  was  somewhere  about  what  at  present 
is  called  the  Isthmus  of  Darien.*  Could  he  but 
discover  such  a  passage,  and  thus  link  the  New 
World  he  had  discovered,  with  the  opulent  ori- 
ental regions  of  the  old,  he  felt  that  he  should 
make  a  magnificent  close  to  his  labors,  and  con- 
summate this  great  object  of  his  existence. 

When  he  unfolded  his  plan  to  the  sovereigns,  it 
was  listened  to  with  great  attention.  Certain  of 
the  royal  council,  it  is  said,  endeavored  to  throw 
difficulties  in  the  way,  observing  that  the  various 
exigencies  of  the  times,  and  the  low  state  of  the 
royal  treasury,  rendered  any  new  expedition 
highly  inexpedient.  They  intimated  also  that  Co- 
lumbus ought  not  to  be  employed  until  his  good 
conduct  in  Hispaniola  was  satisfactorily  establish- 
ed by  letters  from  Ovando.  These  narrow-minded 
suggestions  failed  in  their  aim  ;  Isabella  had  im- 
plicit confidence  in  the  integrity  of  Columbus.  As 
to  the  expense,  she  felt  that  while  furnishing  so 
powerful  a  fleet  and  splendid  retinue  to  Ovando, 
to  take  possession  ot  his  government,  it  would  be 
ungenerous  and  ungrateful  to  refuse  a  few  ships 
to  the  discoverer  of  the  New  World,  to  enable  him 
to  prosecute  his  illustrious  enterprises.  As  to 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  4.    Las  Casas  specifies  the 
vicinity  of  Nombre  de  Dios  as  the  place. 


184 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Ferdinand,  his  cupidity  was  roused  at  the  idea  of 
being  soon  put  in  possession  of  a  more  direct  and 
safe  route  to  those  countries  with  which  the  crown 
of  Portugal  was  opening  so  lucrative  a  trade. 
The  project  also  would  occupy  the  admiral  for  a 
considerable  time,  and,  while  it  diverted  him  from 
claims  of  an  inconvenient  nature,  would  employ 
his  talents  in  a  way  most  beneficial  to  the  crown. 
However  the  king  might  doubt  his  abilities  as  a 
legislator,  he  had  the  highest  opinion  of  his  skill 
and  judgment  as  a  navigator.  If  such  a  strait  as 
the  one  supposed  were  really  in  existence,  Colum- 
bus was,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  the  one  to  dis- 
cover it.  His  proposition,  therefore,  was  promptly 
acceded  to  ;  he  was  authorized  to  fit  out  an  arma- 
ment immediately  ;  and  repaired  to  Seville  in  the 
autumn  of  1501,  to  make  the  necessary  prepara- 
tions. 

Though  this  substantial  enterprise  diverted  his 
attention  from  his  romantic  expedition  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  holy  sepulchre,  it  still  continued  to 
haunt  his  mind.  He  left  his  manuscript  collec- 
tion of  researches  among  the  prophecies,  in  the 
hands  of  a  devout  friar  of  the  name  of  Caspar  Gor- 
ricio,  who  assisted  to  complete  it.  In  February, 
also,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Pope  Alexander  VII.,  in 
which  he  apologizes  on  account  of  indispensable 
occupations,  for  not  having  repaired  to  Rome,  ac- 
cording to  his  original  intention,  to  give  an  ac- 
count of  his  grand  discoveries.  After  briefly  re- 
lating them,  he  adds  that  his  enterprises  had  been 
undertaken  with  intent  of  dedicating  the  gains  to 
the  recovery  of  the  holy  sepulchre.  He  mentions 
his  vow  to  furnish,  within  seven  years,  fifty  thou- 
sand foot  and  five  thousand  horse  for  the  purpose, 
and  another  of  like  force  within  five  succeeding 
years.  This  pious  intention,  he  laments,  had  been 
impeded  by  the  arts  of  the  devil,  and  he  feared, 
without  divine  aid,  would  be  entirely  frustrated, 
as  the  government  which  had  been  granted  to  him 
in  perpetuity  had  been  taken  from  him.  He  in- 
forms his  Holiness  of  his  being  about  to  embark  on 
another  voyage,  and  promises  solemnly,  on  his  re- 
turn, to  repair  to  Rome,  without  delay,  to  relate 
everything  by  word  of  mouth,  as  well  as  to  pre- 
sent him  with  an  account  of  his  voyages,  which  he 
had  kept  from  the  commencement  to  the  present 
time,  in  the  style  of  the  Commentaries  of  Csesar.* 

It  was  about  this  time,  also,  that  he  sent  his 
letter  on  the  subject  of  the  sepulchre  to  the  sov- 
ereigns, together  with  the  collection  of  prophe- 
cies, f  We  have  no  account  of  the  manner  in 


*  Navarrete,  Colec.  Viag.,  torn.  ii.  p.  145. 

f  A  manuscript  volume  containing  a  copy  of  this 
letter  and  of  the  collection  of  prophecies,  is  in  the 
Columbian  Library,  in  the  Cathedral  of  Seville,  where 
the  author  of  this  work  has  seen  and  examined  it, 
since  publishing  the  first  edition.  The  title  and  some 
of  the  early  pages  of  the  work  are  in  the  handwriting 
of  Fernando  Columbus,  the  main  body  of  the  work  is 
by  a  strange  hand,  probably  by  the  Friar  Caspar  Gor- 
ricio,  or  some  brother  of  his  Convent.  There  are 
trifling  marginal  notes  or  corrections,  and  one  or  two 
trivial  additions  in  the  handwriting  of  Columbus,  es- 
pecially a  passage  added  after  his  return  from  his  fourth 
voyage  and  shortly  before  his  death,  alluding  loan 
eclipse  of  the  moon  which  took  place  during  his  so- 
journ in  the  island  of  Jamaica.  The  handwriting  of 
this  last  passage,  like  most  of  the  manuscript  of  Co- 
lumbus, which  the  author  has  seen,  is  small  and  deli- 
cate, but  wants  the  firmness  and  distinctness  of  his 
earlier  writing,  his  hand  having  doubtless  become  un- 
steady by  age  and  infirmity. 

This  document  is  extremely  curious  as  containing 
all  the  passages  of  Scripture  and  of  the  works  of  the 
fathers  which  had  so  powerful  an  influence  on  the  en- 


which  the  proposition  was  received.  Ferdinand, 
with  all  his  bigotry,  was  a  shrewd  and  worldly 
prince.  Instead  of  a  chivalrous  crusade  against 
Jerusalem,  he  preferred  making  a  pacific  arrange- 
ment with  the  Grand  Soldan  of  Egypt,  who  had 
menaced  the  destruction  of  the  sacred  edifice.  He 
dispatched,  therefore,  the  learned  Peter  Martyr,  so 
distinguished  for  his  historical  writings,  as  am- 
bassador to  the  Soldan,  by  whom  all  ancient 
grievances  between  the  two  powers  were  satisfac- 
torily adjusted,  and  arrangements  made  for  the 
conservation  of  the  holy  sepulchre,  and  the  protec- 
tion of  all  Christian  pilgrims  resorting  to  it. 

In  the  mean  time  Columbus  went  on  with  the 
preparations  for  his  contemplated  voyage,  though 
but  slowly,  owing,  as  Charlevoix  intimates,  to  the 
artifices  and  delays  of  Fonseca  and  his  agents. 
He  craved  permission  to  touch  at  the  island  of 
Hispaniola  for  supplies  on  his  outward  voyage. 
This,  however,  the  sovereigns  forbade,  knowing 
that  he  had  many  enemies  in  the  island,  and  that 
the  place  would  be  in  great  agitation  from  the  ar- 
rival of  Ovando  and  the  removal  of  Bobadilla. 
They  consented,  however,  that  he  should  touch 
there  briefly  on  his  return,  by  which  time  they 
hoped  the  island  would  be  restored  to  tranquillity. 
He  was  permitted  to  take  with  him,  in  this  expe- 
dition, his  brother  the  Adelantaclo,  and  his  son 
Fernando,  then  in  his  fourteenth  year  ;  also  two 
or  three  persons  learned  in  Arabic,  to  serve  as  in- 
terpreters, in  case  he  should  arrive  at  the  domin- 
ions of  the  Grand  Khan,  or  of  any  other  eastern 
prince  where  that  language  might  be  spoken,  or 
partially  known.  In  reply  to  letters  relative  to 
the  ultimate  restoration  of  his  rights,  and  to  mat- 
ters concerning  his  family,  the  sovereigns  wrote 
him  a  letter,  dated  March  I4th,  1502,  from  Valen- 
cia de  Torre,  in  which  they  again  solemnly  as- 
sured him  that  their  capitulations  with  him  should 
be  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  and  the  dignities  therein 
ceded  enjoyed  by  him,  and  his  children  after  him  ; 
and  if  it  should  be  necessary  to  confirm  them 
anew,  they  would  do  so,  and  secure  them  to  his 
son.  Besides  which,  they  expressed  their  disposi- 
tion to  bestow  further  honors  and  rewards  upon 
himself,  his  brothers,  and  his  children.  They  en- 
treated him,  therefore,  to  depart  in  peace  and 
confidence,  and  to  leave  all  his  concerns  in  Spain 
to  the  management  of  his  son  Diego.* 

This  was  the  last  letter  that  Columbus  received 
from  the  sovereigns,  and  the  assurances  it  con- 
tained were  as  ample  and  absolute  as  he  could 
desire.  Recent  circumstances,  however,  had  ap- 
parently rendered  him  dubious  of  the  future. 
During  the  time  that  he  passed  in  Seville,  pre- 
vious to  his  departure,  he  took  measures  to  secure 
his  fame,  and  preserve  the  claims  of  his  family,  by 
placing  them  under  the  guardianship  of  his  native 
country.  He  had  copies  of  all  the  letters,  grants, 
and  privileges  from  the  sovereigns,  appointing  him 
admiral,  viceroy,  and  governor  of  the  Indies,  cop- 
ied and  authenticated  before  the  alcaldes  of  Se- 
ville. Two  sets  of  these  were  transcribed,  to- 
gether with  his  letter  to  the  nurse  of  Prince  Juan, 
containing  a  circumstantial  and  eloquent  vindica- 
tion of  his  rights  ;  and  two  letters  to  the  Bank  of 


thusiastic  mind  of  Cclumbus,  and  were  construed  by 
him  into  mysterious  prophecies  and  revelations.  The 
volume  is  in  gocd  preservation,  excepting  that  a  few 
pages  have  been  cut  cut.  The  writing,  though  of  the 
beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  is  very  distinct  and 
legible.  The  library  mark  of  the  book  is  Estante  Z. 
Tab.  138,  No.  25. 

*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  4. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


185 


St.  George,  at  Genoa,  assigning  to  it  the  tenth  of 
his  revenues,  to  be  employed  in  diminishing  the 
duties  on  corn  and  other  provisions — a  truly  be- 
nevolent and  patriotic  donation,  intended  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor  of  his  native  city.  These  two 
sets  of  documents  he  sent  by  different  individuals 
to  his  friend,  Doctor  Nicolo  Oderigo,  formerly 
ambassador  from  Genoa  to  the  court  of  Spain, 


requesting "  him  to  preserve  them  in  some  safe 
deposit,  and  to  apprise  his  son  Diego,  of  the  same. 
His  dissatisfaction  at  the  conduct  of  the  Spanish 
court  may  have  been  the  cause  of  this  precaution- 
ary measure,  that  an  appeal  to  the  world,  or  to 
posterity,  might  be  in  the  power  of  his  descend- 
ants, in  case  he  should  perish  in  the  course  of  his 
voyage.* 


BOOK   XV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

DEPARTURE  OF  COLUMBUS  ON  HIS  FOURTH  VOY- 
AGE— REFUSED  ADMISSION  TO  THE  HARBOR  OF 
SAN  DOMINGO— EXPOSED  TO  A  VIOLENT  TEM- 
PEST. 

[I502.] 

AGE  was  rapidly  making  its  advances  upon  Co- 
lumbus when  he  undertook  his  fourth  and  last 
voyage  of  discovery.  He  had  already  numbered 
sixty-six  years,  and  they  were  years  filled  with 
care  and  trouble,  in  which  age  outstrips  the  march 
of  time.  His  constitution,  originally  vigorous  in 
the  extreme,  had  been  impaired  by  hardships  and 
exposures  in  every  clime,  and  silently  preyed  upon 
by  the  sufferings  of  the  mind.  His  frame,  once 
powerful  and  commanding,  and  retaining  a  sem- 
blance of  strength  and  majesty  even  in  its  decay, 
was  yet  crazed  by  infirmities  and  subject  to  par- 
oxysms of  excruciating  parn.  His  intellectual 
forces  alone  retained  their  wonted  health  and  en- 
ergy, prompting  him,  at  a  period  of  life  when 
most  men  seek  repose,  to  sally  forth  with  youthful 
ardor  on  the  most  toilsome  and  adventurous  of 
expeditions. 

His  squadron  for  the  present  voyage  consisted 
of  four  caravels,  the  smallest  of  fifty  tons  burden, 
the  largest  not  exceeding  seventy,  and  the  crews 
amounting  in  all  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  men. 
With  this  little  armament  and  these  slender  barks 
did  the  venerable  discoverer  undertake  the  search 
after  a  strait,  which,  if  found,  must  conduct  him 
into  the  most  remote  seas,  and  lead  to  a  complete 
circumnavigation  of  the  globe. 

In  this  arduous  voyage,  however,  he  had  a 
faithful  counsellor,  and  an  intrepid  and  vigorous 
coadjutor,  in  his  brother  Don  Bartholomew,  while 
his  younger  son  Fernando  cheered  him  with  his 
affectionate  sympathy.  He  had  learnt  to  appreci- 
ate such  comforts,  from  being  too  often  an  isola- 
ted stranger,  surrounded  by  false  friends  and  per- 
fidious enemies. 

The  squadron  sailed  from  Cadiz  on  the  gth  of 
May,  and  passed  over  to  Ercilla,  on  the  coast  of 
Morocco,  where  it  anchored  on  the  I3th.  Under- 
standing that  the  Portuguese  garrison  was  closely 
besieged  in  the  fortress  by  the  Moors,  and  exposed 
to  great  peril,  Columbus  was  ordered  to  touch 
there,  and  render  all  the  assistance  in  his  power. 
Before  his  arrival  the  siege  had  been  raised,  but 
the  governor  lay  ill,  having  been  wounded  in  an 
assault.  Columbus  sent  his  brother,  the  Aclelan- 
tado,  his  son  Fernando,  and  the  captains  of  the 
caravels  on  shore,  to  wait  upon  the  governor, 
with  expressions  of  friendship  and  civility,  and 
offers  of  the  services  of  his  squadron.  Their  visit 
and  message  gave  high  satisfaction,  and  several 
cavaliers  were  sent  to  wait  upon  the  admiral  in 


return,  some  of  whom  were  relatives  of  his  de- 
ceased wife,  Dofia  Felippa  Mufioz.  After  this  ex- 
change of  civilities,  the  admiral  made  sail  on  the 
same  day,  and  continued  his  voyage. f  On  the 
25th  of  May  he  arrived  at  the  Grand  Canary,  and 
remained  at  that  and  the  adjacent  islands  for  a 
few  clays,  taking  in  wood  and  water.  On  the  even- 
ing of  the  25th  he  took  his  departure  for  the  New 
World.  The  trade  winds  were  so  favorable  that 
the  little  squadron  swept  gently  on  its  course, 
without  shifting  a  sail,  and  arrived  on  the  1 5th  of 
June  at  one  of  the  Caribbee  Islands,  called  by  the 
natives  Mantinino.|  After  stopping  here  for  three 
clays,  to  take  in  wood  and  water,  and  allow  the 
seamen  time  to  wash  their- clothes,  the  squadron 
passed  to  the  west  of  the  island,  and  sailed  to  Do- 
minica, about  ten  leagues  distant.^  Columbus 
continued  hence  along  the  inside  of  the  Antilles, 
to  Santa  Cruz,  then  along  the  south  side  of  Porto 
Rico,  and  steered  for  San  Domingo.  This  was 
contrary  to  the  original  plan  of  the  admiral,  who 
had  intended  to  steer  to  Jamaica,  ||  and  thence  to 
take  a  departure  for  the  continent,  and  explore  its 
coasts  in  search  of  the  supposed  strait.  It  was 
contrary  to  the  orders  of  the  sovereigns  also,  pro- 
hibiting him  on  his  outward  voyage  to  touch  at 
Hispaniola.  His  excuse  was  that  his  principal 
vessel  sailed  extremely  ill,  could  not  carry  any 
canvas,  and  continually  embarrassed  and  delayed 
the  rest  of  the  squadron. <[  He  wished,  therefore, 
to  exchange  it  for  one  of  the  fleet  which  had  re- 


*  These  documents  lay  unknown  in  the  Oderigo 
family  until  1670,  when  Lorenzo  Oderigo  presented 
them  to  the  government  of  Genoa,  and  they  were  de- 
posited in  the  archives.  In  the  disturbances  and  revo- 
lutions of  after  times,  one  of  these  copies  was  taken 
to  Paris,  and  the  other  disappeared.  In  1816  the  latter 
was  discovered  in  the  library  of  the  deceased  Count 
Michel  Angelo  Cambiaso,  a  senator  of  Genoa.  It  was 
procured  by  the  King  of  Sardinia,  then  sovereign  of 
Genoa,  and  given  up  by  him  to  the  city  of  Genoa  in 
1821.  A  custodia,  or  monument,  was  erected  in  that 
city  for  its  preservation,  consisting  of  a  marble  column 
supporting  an  urn,  surmounted  by  a  bust  of  Colum- 
bus. The  documents  were  deposited  in  the  urn. 
These  papers  have  been  published,  together  with  an 
historical  memoir  of  Columbus,  by  D.  Gio.  Battista 
Spotorno,  Professor  of  Eloquence,  etc.,  in  the  Univer- 
sity of  Genoa. 

\  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  83. 

\  Sefior  Navarrete  supposes  this  island  to  be  the 
same  at  present  called  Santa  Lucia.  From  the  dis- 
tance between  it  and  Dominica,  as  stated  by  Fernando 
Columbus,  it  was  more  probably  the  present  Mar- 
tinica. 

§  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  88. 

I  Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica.  Journal  of 
Porras,  Navarrete,  torn.  i. 

If  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  88.  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  5. 


18G 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


cently  conveyed  Ovando  to  his  government,  or  to 
purchase  some  other  vessel  at  San  Domingo  ;  and 
he  was  persuaded  that  he  would  not  be  blamed 
for  departing  from  his  orders,  in  a  case  of  such  im- 
portance to  the  safety  and  success  of  his  expedition. 

It  is  necessary  to  state  the  situation  of  the  island 
at  this  moment.  Ovando  had  reached  San  Do- 
mingo on  the  1  5th  of  April.  He  had  been  received 
with  the  accustomed  ceremony  on  the  shore,  by 
Bobadilla,  accompanied  by  the  principal  inhabi- 
tants of  the  town.  He  was  escorted  to  the  fortress, 
where  his  commission  was  read  in  form,  in  pres- 
ence of  all  the  authorities.  The  usual  oaths  were 
taken,  and  ceremonials  observed  ;  and  the  new 
governor  wras  hailed  with  great  demonstrations  of 
obedience  and  satisfaction.  Ovando  entered  upon 
the  duties  of  his  office  with  coolness  and  pru- 
dence, and  treated  Bobadilla  with  a  courtesy  to- 
tally opposite  to  the  rudeness  with  which  the  latter 
had  superseded  Columbus.  The  emptiness  of 
mere  official  rank,  when  unsustained  by  merit, 
was  shown  in  the  case  of  Bobadilla.  The  mo- 
ment his  authority  was  at  an  end  all  his  impor- 
tance vanished.  He  found  himself  a  solitary  and 
neglected  man,  deserted  by  those  whom  he  had 
most  favored,  and  he  experienced  the  worthless- 
ness  of  the  popularity  gained  by  courting  the  prej- 
udices and  passions  of  the  multitude.  Still  there 
is  no  record  of  any  suit  having  been  instituted 
against  him  ;  and  Las  Casas,  who  was  on  the 
spot,  declares  that  he  never  heard  any  harsh  thing 
spoken  of  him  by  the  colonists.* 

The  conduct  of  Roldan  and  his  accomplices, 
however,  underwent  a  strict  investigation,  and 
many  were  arrested  to  be  sent  to  Spain  for  trial. 
They  appeared  undismayed,  trusting  to  the  influ- 
ence of  their  friends  in  Spain  to  protect  them,  and 
many  relying  on  the  well-known  disposition  of  the 
Bishop  of  Fonseca  to  favor  all  who  had  been  op- 
posed to  Columbus. 

The  fleet  which  had  brought  out  Ovando  was 
now  ready  for  sea  ;  and  was  to  take  out  a  number 
of  the  principal  delinquents,  and  many  of  the  idlers 
and  profligates  of  the  island.  Bobadilla  was  to 
embark  in  the  principal  ship,  on  board  of  which 
he  put  an  immense  amount  of  gold,  the  revenue 
collected  for  the  crown  during  his  government, 
and  which  he  confidently  expected  would  atone 
for  all  his  faults.  There  was  one  solid  mass  of 
virgin  gold  on  board  of  this  ship,  which  is  famous 
in  the  old  Spanish  chronicles.  It  had  been  found 
by  a  female  Indian  in  a  brook,  on  the  estate  of 
Francisco  de  Garay  and  Miguel  Diaz,  and  had 
been  taken  by  Bobadilla  to  send  to  the  king, 
making  the  owners  a  suitable  compensation.  It 
was  said  to  weigh  three  thousand  six  hundred 
castellanos.f 

Large  quantities  of  gold  were  likewise  shipped 
in  the  fleet,  by  the  followers  of  Roldan,  and  other 
adventurers,  the  wealth  gained  by  the  sufferings 
of  the  unhappy  natives.  Among  the  various  per- 
sons who  were  to  sail  in  the  principal  ship  was 
the  unfortunate  Guarionex,  the  once  powerful  ca- 
cique of  the  Vega.  He  had  been  confined  in  Fort 
Conception  ever  since  his  capture  alter  the  war 
of  Higuey,  and  was  now  to  be  sent  a  captive  in 
chains  to  Spain.  In  one  of  the  ships,  Alonzo 
Sanchez  de  Caravjal,  the  agent  of  Columbus,  had 
put  four  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  to  be  remitted  to 
him,  being  part  of  his  property,  either  recently 
collected  or  recovered  from  the  hands  of  Boba- 
dilla.J 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  3. 
f  Ibid.,  cap.  5. 


Ibid. 


The  preparations  were  all  made,  and  the  fleet 
was  ready  to  put  to  sea,  when,  on  the  2gth  of 
June,  the  squadron  of  Columbus  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  He  immediately  sent  Pedro 
de  Terreros,  captain  of  one  of  the  caravels,  on 
shore  to  wait  on  Ovando,  and  explain  to  him  that 
the  purpose  of  his  coming  was  to  procure  a  vessel 
in  exchange  for  one  of  his  caravels,  which  was 
extremely  defective.  He  requested  permission 
also  to  shelter  his  squadron  in  the  harbor  ;  as  he 
apprehended,  from  various  indications,  an  ap- 
proaching storm.  This  request  was  refused  by 
Ovando.  Las  Casas  thinks  it  probable  that  he 
had  instructions  from  the  sovereigns  not  to  admit 
Columbus,  and  that  he  was  further  swayed  by 
prudent  considerations,  as  San  Domingo  was  at 
that  moment  crowded  with  the  most  virulent  ene- 
mies of  the  admiral,  many  of  them  in  a  high  state 
of  exasperation,  from  recent  proceedings  which 
had  taken  place  against  them.* 

When  the  ungracious  refusal  of  Ovando  was 
brought  to  Columbus,  and  he  found  all  shelter 
denied  him,  he  sought  at  least  to  avert  the  clanger 
of  the  fleet,  which  was  about  to  sail.  He  sent 
back  the  officer,  therefore,  to  the  governor,  en- 
treating him  not  to  permit  the  fleet  to  put  to  sea 
for  several  days,  assuring  him  that  there  were 
indubitable  signs  of  an  impending  tempest.  This 
second  request  was  equally  fruitless  with  the  first. 
The  weather,  to  an  inexperienced  eye,  was  fair 
and  tranquil  ;  the  pilots  and  seamen  were  impa- 
tient to  depart.  They  scoffed  at  the  prediction  of 
the  admiral,  ridiculing  him  as  a  false  prophet, 
and  they  persuaded  Ovando  not  to  detain  the  fleet 
on  so  unsubstantial  a  pretext. 

It  was  hard  treatment  of  Columbus,  thus  to  be 
denied  the  relief  which  the  state  of  his  ships  re- 
quired, and  to  be  excluded  in  time  of  distress  from 
the  very  harbor  he  had  discovered.  He  retired 
from  the  river  full  of  grief  and  indignation.  His 
crew  murmured  loudly  at  being  shut  out  from  a 
port  of  their  own  nation,  where  even  strangers, 
under  similar  circumstances,  would  be  admitted. 
They  repined  at  having  embarked  with  a  com- 
mander liable  to  such  treatment,  and  anticipated 
nothing  but  evil  from  a  voyage,  in  which  they 
were  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  and  re- 
pulsed from  the  protection  of  the  land. 

Being  confident,  from  his  observations  of  those 
natural  phenomena  in  which  he  was  deeply  skilled, 
that  the  anticipated  storm  could  not  be  distant, 
and  expecting  it  from  the  land  side,  Columbus 
kept  his  feeble  squadron  close  to  the  shore,  and 
sought  for  secure  anchorage  in  some  wild  bay  or 
river  of  the  island. 

In  the  mean  time  the  fleet  of  Bobadilla  set  sail 
from  San  Domingo,  and  stood  out  confidently  to 
sea.  Within  two  days  the  predictions  of  Colum- 
bus were  verified.  One  of  those  tremendous  hur- 
ricanes, which  sometimes  sweep  those  latitudes, 
had  gradually  gathered  up.  The  baleful  appear- 
ance of  the  heavens,  the  wild  look  of  the  ocean, 
the  rising  murmur  of  the  winds,  all  gave  notice  of 
its  approach.  The  fleet  had  scarcely  reached  the 
eastern  point  of  Hispaniola  when  the  tempest  burst 
over  it  with  awful  fury,  involving  everything  in 
wreck  and  ruin.  The  ship  on  board  of  which  were 
Bobadilla,  Roldan,  and  a  number  of  the  most  invet- 
erate enemies  of  Columbus,  was  swallowed  up  with 
all  its  crew,  and  with  the  celebrated  mass  of  gold, 
and  the  principal  part  of  the  ill-gotten  treasure, 
gained  by  the  miseries  of  the  Indians.  Many  of 
the  ships  were  entirely  lost,  some  returned  to  San 


*  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup. 


LIFE    AND    VOYAGES    OF    COLUMBUS. 


187 


Domingo,  in  shattered  condition,  and  only  one 
was  enabled  to  continue  her  voyage  to  Spain. 
That  one,  according  to  Fernando  Columbus,  was 
the  weakest  of  the  Meet,  and  had  on  board  the  lour 
thousand  pieces  of  gold,  the  property  ot  the  ad- 
miral. 

During  the  early  part  of  this  storm  the  little 
squadron  of  Columbus  remained  tolerably  well 
sheltered  by  the  land.  On  the  second  day  the 
tempest  increased  in  violence,  and  the  night  com- 
ing on  with  unusual  darkness,  the  ships  lost  sight 
of  each  other  and  were  separated.  The  admiral 
still  kept  close  to  the  shore,  and  sustained  no 
damage.  The  others,  fearful  of  the  land  in  such 
a  dark  and  boisterous  night,  ran  out  for  sea-room, 
and  encountered  the  whole  fury  of  the  elements. 
For  several  days  they  were  driven  about  at  the 
mercy  of  wind  and  wave,  fearful  each  moment  of 
shipwreck,  and  giving  up  each  other  as  lost.  The 
Adelantado,  who  commanded  the  ship  already 
mentioned  as  being  scarcely  seaworthy,  ran  the 
most  imminent  hazard,  and  nothing  but  his  con- 
summate seamanship  enabled  him  to  keep  her 
afloat.  At  length,  after  various  vicissitudes,  they 
all  arrived  safe  at  Port  Hermoso,  to  the  west  of 
San  Domingo.  The  Adelantado  had  lost  his  long- 
boat ;  and  all  the  vessels,  with  the  exception  of 
that  of  the  admiral,  had  sustained  more  or  less  in- 
jury. 

When  Columbus  learnt  the  signal  destruction 
that  had  overwhelmed  his  enemies,  almost  before 
his  eyes,  he  was  deeply  impressed  with  awe,  and 
considered  his  own  preservation  as  little  less  than 
miraculous.  Both  his  son  Fernando  and  the  ven- 
erable historian  Las  Casas  looked  upon  the  event 
as  one  of  those  awful  judgments  which  seem  at 
times  to  deal  forth  temporal  retribution.  They 
notice  the  circumstance,  that  while  the  enemies  of 
the  admiral  were  swallowed  up  by  the  raging  sea, 
the  only  ship  of  the  Meet  which  was  enabled  to 
pursue  her  voyage,  and  reach  her  port  of  destina- 
tion, was  the  frail  bark  freighted  with  the  prop- 
erty of  Columbus.  The  evil,  however,  in  this,  as 
in  most  circumstances,  overwhelmed  the  innocent 
as  well  as  the  guilty.  In  the  ship  with  Bobadilla 
and  Roldan,  perished  the  captive  Guarionex,  the 
unfortunate  cacique  of  the  Vega.* 


CHAPTER  II. 

VOYAGE   ALONG   THE   COAST   OF   HONDURAS. 
[1502.] 

FOR  several  days  Columbus  remained  in  Port 
Hermoso,  to  repair  his  vessels  and  permit  his 
crews  to  repose  and  refresh  themselves  after  the 
late  tempest.  He  had  scarcely  left  this  harbor 
when  he  was  obliged  to  take  shelter  from  another 
storm  in  Jacquemel,  or  as  it  was  called  by  the 
Spaniards,  Port  Brazil.  Hence  he  sailed  on  the 
I4th  of  July,  steering  for  Terra  Firma.  The 
weather  falling  perfectly  calm,  he  was  borne  away 
by  the  currents  until  he  found  himself  in  the  vi- 
cinity of  some  little  islands  near  Jamaica, f  desti- 
tute of  springs,  but  where  the  seamen  obtained  a 
supply  of  water  by  digging  holes  in  the  sand  on 
the  beach. 

The  calm  continuing,  he  was  swept  away  to  the 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.   5.     Hist,   del 
Almirante,  cap.  88. 

f  Supposed  to  be  the  Morant  Keys. 


group  of  small  islands,  or  keys,  on  the  southern 
coast  of  Cuba,  to  which,  in  1494,  he  had  given  the 
name  of  The  Gardens.  He  had  scarcely  touched 
there,  however,  when  the  wind  sprang  up  from  a 
favorable  quarter,  and  he  was  enabled  to  make 
sail  on  his  destined  course.  He  now  stood  to  the 
south-west,  and  after  a  few  days  discovered,  on 
the  3oth  of  July,  a  small  but  elevated  island, 
agreeable  to  the  eye  from  the  variety  of  trees  with 
which  it  was  covered.  Among  these  was  a  great 
number  of  lofty  pines,  from  which  circumstance 
Columbus  named  it  Isla  de  Pinos.  It  has  always, 
however,  retained  its  Indian  name  of  Guanaja,* 
which  has  been  extended  to  a  number  of  smaller 
islands  surrounding  it.  This  group  is  within  a 
few  leagues  of  the  coast  of  Honduras,  to  the  east 
of  the  great  bay  or  gulf  of  that  name. 

The  Adelantado,  with  two  launches  full  of  peo- 
ple, landed  on  the  principal  island,  which  was  ex- 
tremely verdant  and  fertile.  The  inhabitants  re- 
sembled those  of  other  islands,  excepting  that 
their  foreheads  were  narrower.  While  the  Ade- 
lantado was  on  shore,  he  beheld  a  great  canoe  ar- 
riving, as  from  a  distant  and  important  voyage. 
He  was  struck  with  its  magnitude  and  con- 
tents. It  was  eight  feet  wide,  and  as  long  as 
a  galley,  though  formed  of  the  trunk  ot  a  sin- 
gle tree.  In  the  centre  was  a  kind  of  awn- 
ing or  cabin  of  palm-leaves,  after  the  man- 
ner of  those  in  the  gondolas  of  Venice,  and 
sufficiently  close  to  exclude  both  sun  and  rain. 
Under  this  sat  a  cacique  with  his  wives  and 
children.  Twenty-five  Indians  rowed  the  canoe, 
and  it  was  filled  with  all  kinds  of  articles  of  the 
manufacture  and  natural  production  of  the  adja- 
cent countries.  It  is  supposed  that  this  bark  had 
come  from  the  province  of  Yucatan,  which  is 
about  forty  leagues  distant  from  this  island. 

The  Indians  in  the  canoe  appeared  to  have  no 
fear  of  the  Spaniards,  and  readily  went  alongside 
of  the  admiral's  caravel.  Columbus  was  over- 
joyed at  thus  having  brought  to  him  at  once,  with- 
out trouble  or  danger,  a  collection  of  specimens 
of  all  the  important  articles  of  this  part  of  the  New 
World.  He  examined  with  great  curiosity  and 
interest  the  contents  of  the  canoe.  Among  vari- 
ous utensils  and  weapons  similar  to  those  already 
found  among  the  natives,  he  perceived  others  of 
a  much  superior  kind.  There  were  hatchets  for 
cutting  wood,  formed  not  of  stone  but  copper  ; 
wooden  swords,  with  channels  on  each  side  of  the 
blade,  in  which  sharp  flints  were  firmly  fixed  by 
cords  made  of  the  intestines  of  fishes  ;  being  the 
same  kind  of  weapon  afterward  found  among  the 
Mexicans.  There  were  copper  bells,  and  other 
articles  of  the  same  metal,  together  with  a  rude 
kind  of  crucible  in  which  to  melt  it  ;  various  ves- 
sels and  utensils  neatly  formed  of  clay,  of  marble, 
and  of  hard  wood  ;  sheets  and  mantles  of  cotton, 
worked  and  dyed  with  various  colors  ;  great 
quantities  of  cacao,  a  fruit  as  yet  unknown  to  the 
Spaniards,  but  which,  as  they  soon  found,  the  na- 
tives held  in  great  estimation,  using  it  both  as 
food  and  money.  There  was  a  beverage  also  ex- 
tracted from  maize  or  Indian  corn,  resembling 
beer.  Their  provisions  consisted  of  bread  made 
of  maize,  and  roots  of  various  kinds,  similar  to 
those  of  Hispaniola.  From  among  these  articles 
Columbus  collected  such  as  were  important  to 
send  as  specimens  to  Spain,  giving  the  natives 
European  trinkets  in  exchange,  with  which  they 
were  highly  satisfied.  They  appeared  to  mani- 
fest neither  astonishment  nor  alarm  when  on 


*  Called  in  some  of  the  English  maps  Bonacca. 


188 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


board  of  the  vessels,  and  surrounded  by  people 
who  must  have  been  so  strange  and  wonderful  to 
them.  The  women  wore  mantles,  with  which 
they  wrapped  themselves,  like  the  female  Moors 
of  Granada,  and  the  men  had  cloths  of  cotton 
round  their  loins.  Both  sexes  appeared  more  par- 
ticular about  these  coverings,  and  to  have  a 
quicker  sense  of  personal  modesty  than  any  In- 
dians Columbus  had  yet  discovered. 

These  circumstances,  together  with  the  superi- 
ority of  their  implements  and  manufactures,  were 
held  by  the  admiral  as  indications  that  he  was  ap- 
proaching more  civilized  nations.  He  endeavored 
to  gain  particular  information  from  these  Indians 
about  the  surrounding  countries  ;  but  as  they 
spoke  a  different  language  from  that  of  his  inter- 
preters, he  could  understand  them  but  imperfect- 
ly. They  informed  him  that  they  had  just  arrived 
from  a  country,  rich,  cultivated,  and  industrious, 
situated  to  the  west.  They  endeavored  to  impress 
him  with  an  idea  of  the  wealth  and  magnificence 
of  the  regions,  and  the  people  in  that  quarter,  and 
urged  him  to  steer  in  that  direction.  Well  would 
it  have  been  for  Columbus  had  he  followed  their 
advice.  Within  a  day  or  two  he  would  have  ar- 
rived at  Yucatan  ;  the  discovery  of  Mexico  and  the 
other  opulent  countries  of  New  Spain  would  have 
necessarily  followed  ;  the  Southern  Ocean  would 
have  been  disclosed  to  him,  and  a  succession  of 
splendid  discoveries  would  have  shed  fresh  glory 
on  his  declining  age,  instead  of  its  sinking  amidst 
gloom,  neglect,  and  disappointment. 

The  admiral's  whole  mind,  however,  was  at 
present  intent  upon  discovering  the  strait.  As 
the  countries  described  by  the  Indians  lay  to  the 
west,  he  supposed  that  he  could  easily  visit  them 
at  some  future  time,  by  running  with  the  trade- 
winds  along  the  coast  ot  Cuba,  which  he  imagined 
must  continue  on,  so  as  to  join  them.  At  present 
he  was  determined  to  seek  the  main-land,  the 
mountains  of  which  were  visible  to  the  south,  and 
apparently  not  many  leagues  distant  ;*  by  keeping 
along  it  steadfastly  to  the  east,  he  must  at  length 
arrive  to  where  he  supposed  it  to  be  severed  from 
the  coast  of  Paria  by  an  intervening  strait  ;  and 
passing  through  this,  he  should  soon  make  his 
way  to  the  Spice  Islands  and  the  richest  parts  of 
India. f 

He  was  encouraged  the  more  to  persist  in  his 
eastern  course  by  information  from  the  Indians, 
that  there  were  many  places  in  that  direction 
which  abounded  with  gold.  Much  ot  the  infor- 
mation which  he  gathered  among  these  people 
was  derived  from  an  old  man  more  intelligent  than 
the  rest,  who  appeared  to  be  an  ancient  navigator 
of  these  seas.  Columbus  retained  him  to  serve  as 
a  guide  along  the  coast,  and  dismissed  his  com- 
panions with  many  presents. 

Leaving  the  island  of  Guanaja,  he  stood  south- 
wardly for  the  main-land,  and  after  sailing  a  few 
leagues  discovered  a  cape,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  Caxinas,  from  its  being  covered  with 
fruit  trees,  so  called  by  the  natives.  It  is  at  pres- 
ent known  as  Cape  Honduras.  Here,  on  Sunday 
the  I4th  of  August,  the  Adelantado  landed  with 
the  captains  of  the  caravels  and  many  of  the  sea- 
men, to  attend  mass,  which  was  performed  under 
the  trees  on  the  sea-shore,  according  to  the  pious 
custom  ot  the  admiral,  whenever  circumstances 
would  permit.  On  the  I7th  the  Adelantado  again 
landed  at  a  river  about  fifteen  miles  from  the 


*  Journal  of  Porras,  Navarrete,  torn.  i. 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.   20.     Letter  of  Columbus 
from  Jamaica. 


point,  on  the  bank  of  which  he  displayed  the  ban- 
ners of  Castile,  taking  possession  of  the  country 
in  the  name  of  their  Catholic  Majesties  ;  from 
which  circumstances  he  named  this  the  River  of 
Possession.* 

At  this  place  they  found  upward  of  a  hundred 
Indians  assembled,  laden  with  bread  and  maize, 
fish  and  fowl,  vegetables,  and  fruits  of  various 
kinds.  These  they  laid  down  as  presents  before 
the  Adelantado  and  his  party,  and  drew  back  to 
a  distance  without  speaking  a  word.  The  Ade- 
lantado distributed  among  them  various  trinkets, 
with  which  they  were  well  pleased,  and  appeared 
the  next  day  in  the  same  place,  in  greater  num- 
bers, with  still  more  abundant  supplies  of  provi- 
sions. 

The  natives  of  this  neighborhood,  and  for  a 
considerable  distance  eastward,  had  higher  fore- 
heads than  those  of  the  islands.  They  were  of 
different  languages,  and  varied  from  each  other  in 
their  decorations.  Some  were  entirely  naked  ; 
and  their  bodies  were  marked  by  means  of  fire 
with  the  figures  of  various  animals.  Some  wore 
coverings  about  the  loins  ;  others  short  cotton 
jerkins  without  sleeves  ;  some  wore  tresses  of  hair 
in  front.  The  chieftains  had  caps  of  white  or  col- 
ored cotton.  When  arrayed  for  any  festival,  they 
painted  their  faces  black,  or  with  stripes  of  vari- 
ous colors,  or  with  circles  round  the  eyes.  The 
old  Indian  guide  assured  the  admiral  that  many  of 
them  were  cannibals.  In  one  part  of  the  coast  the 
natives  had  their  ears  bored,  and  hideously  dis- 
tended ;  which  caused  the  Spaniards  to  call  that 
region  la  Costa  de  la  Orcja,  or  "  The  Coast  of  the 
Ear."f 

From  the  River  of  Possession,  Columbus  pro- 
ceeded along  what  is  at  present  called  the  coast 
of  Honduras,  beating  against  contrary  winds,  and 
struggling  with  currents,  which  swept  from  the 
east  like  the  constant  stream  of  a  river.  He  often 
lost  in  one  tacl:  what  he  had  laboriously  gained 
in  two,  frequently  making  but  two  leagues  in  a 
day,  and  never  more  than  five.  At  night  he  an- 
chored under  the  land,  through  fear  of  proceeding 
along  an  unknown  coast  in  the  dark,  but  was 
often  forced  out  to  sea  by  the  violence  of  the  cur- 
rents. \  In  all  this  time  he  experienced  the  same 
kind  of  weather  that  had  prevailed  on  the  coast  of 
Hispaniola,  and  had  attended  him  more  or  less 
for  upward  of  sixty  days.  There  was,  he  says, 
almost  an  incessant  tempest  of  the  heavens,  with 
heavy  rains,  and  such  thunder  and  lightning  that 
it  seemed  as  if  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand. 
Those  who  know  anything  of  the  drenching  rains 
and  rending  thunder  of  the  tropics  will  not  think 
his  description  of  the  storms  exaggerated.  His 
vessels  were  strained  so  that  their  seams  opened  ; 
the  sails  and  rigging  were  rent,  and  the  provisions 
were  damaged  by  the  rain  and  by  the  leakage. 
The  sailors  were  exhausted  with  labor  and  har- 
assed with  terror.  They  many  times  confessed 
their  sins  to  each  other,  and  prepared  for  death. 
"  I  have  seen  many  tempests,"  says  Columbus, 
"  but  none  so  violent  or  ot  such  long  duration." 
He  alludes  to  the  whole  series  of  storms  for  up- 
ward of  two  months,  since  he  had  been  refused 
shelter  at  San  Domingo.  During  a  great  part  of 
this  time  he  had  suffered  extremely  from  the 
gout,  aggravated  by  his  watchfulness  and  anxiety. 
His  illness  did  not  prevent  his  attending  to  his 


*  Journal  of  Porras,  Navarrete,  Colec..  torn.  i. 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  21.     Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  oo. 

\  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  So. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


189 


duties  ;  he  had  a  small  cabin  or  chamber  con- 
structed on  the  stern,  whence,  even  when  confined 
to  his  bed,  he  could  keep  a  look-out  and  regulate 
the  sailing  of  the  ships.  Many  times  he  was  so 
ill  that  he  thought  his  end  approaching.  His  anx- 
ious mind  was  distressed  about  his  brother  the 
Adelantado,  whom  he  had  persuaded  against  his 
will  to  come  on  this  expedition,  and  who  was  in 
the  worst  vessel  of  the  squadron.  He  lamented 
also  having  brought  with  him  his  son  Fernando, 
exposing  him  at  so  tender  an  age  to  such  perils 
and  hardships,  although  the  youth  bore  them  with 
the  courage  and  fortitude  of  a  veteran.  Often, 
too,  his  thoughts  reverted  to  his  son  Diego,  and 
the  cares  and  perplexities  into  which  his  death 
might  plunge  him.*  At  length,  after  struggling 
for  upward  of  forty  days  since  leaving  the  Cape  of 
Honduras,  to  make  a  distance  of  about  seventy 
leagues,  they  arrived  on  the  I4th  of  September  at 
a  cape  where  the  coast,  making  an  angle,  turned 
directly  south,  so  as  to  give  them  an  easy  wind 
and  free  navigation.  Doubling  the  point,  they 
swept  off  with  flowing  sails  and  hearts  filled  with 
joy  ;  and  the  admiral,  to  commemorate  this  sud- 
den relief  from  toil  and  peril,  gave  to  the  Cape 
the  name  of  Gracias  a  Dios,  or  Thanks  to  God.f 


CHAPTER   III. 

VOYAGE     ALONG     THE      MOSQUITO     COAST,     AND 
TRANSACTIONS    AT   CARIARI. 

[1503.] 

AFTER  doubling  Cape  Gracias  a  Dios,  Colum- 
bus sailed  directly  south,  along  what  is  at, present 
called  the  Mosquito  shore.  The  land  was  of 
varied  character,  sometimes  rugged,  with  craggy 
promontories  and  points  stretching  into  the  sea,  at 
other  places  verdant  and  fertile,  and  watered  by 
abundant  streams.  In  the  rivers  grew  immense 
reeds,  sometimes  of  the  thickness  of  a  man's  thigh  : 
they  abounded  with  fish  and  tortoises,  and  alliga- 
tors basked  on  the  banks.  At  one  place  Columbus 
passed  a  cluster  of  twelve  small  islands,  on  which 
grew  a  fruit  resembling  the  lemon,  on  which  ac- 
count he  called  them  the  Limonares.J 

After  sailing  about  sixty-two  leagues  along  this 
coast,  being  greatly  in  want  of  wood  and  water, 
the  squadron  anchored  on  the  i6th  of  September, 
near  a  copious  river,  up  which  the  boats  were  sent 
to  procure  the  requisite  supplies.  As  they  were 
returning  to  their  ships,  a  sudden  swelling  of  the 
sea,  rushing  in  and  encountering  the  rapid  current 
of  the  river,  caused  a  violent  commotion,  in  which 
one  of  the  boats  was  swallowed  up,  and  all  6n 
board  psrished.  This  melancholy  event  had  a 
gloomy  effect  upon  the  crews,  already  dispirited 
and  careworn  from  the  hardships  they  had  endured, 
and  Columbus,  sharing  their  dejection,  gave  the 
stream  the  sinister  name  of  El  rio  del  Desastre, 
or  the  River  of  Disaster.^ 

Leaving  this  unlucky  neighborhood,  they  con- 
tinued tor  several  days  along  the  coast,  until  find- 


*  Letter  from  Jamaica.     Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i. 

\  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  21.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  91. 

\  P.  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  These  may  have 
been  the  lime,  a  small  and  extremely  acid  species  of 
the  lemon. 

§  Las  Casas.  lib.  ii.  cap.  21.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  91.  Journal  of  Porras. 


ing  both  his  ships  and  his  people  nearly  disabled 
by  the  buffetings  of  the  tempests,  Columbus,  on 
the  25th  of  September,  cast  anchor  between  a 
small  island  and  the  main-land,  in  what  appeared 
a  commodious  and  delightful  situation.  The  island 
was  covered  with  groves  of  palm-trees,  cocoanut- 
trees,  bananas,  and  a  delicate  and  fragrant  fruit, 
which  the  admiral  continually  mistook  for  the 
mirabolane  of  the  East  Indies.  The  fruits  and 
flowers  and  odoriferous  shrubs  of  the  island  sent 
forth  grateful  perfumes,  so  that  Columbus  gave  it 
the  name  of  La  Huerta,  or  The  Garden.  It  was 
called  by  the  natives,  Ouiribiri.  Immediately  op- 
posite, at  a  short  league's  distance,  was  an  Indian 
village,  named  Cariari,  situated  on  the  bank  of  a 
beautiful  river.  The  country  around  was  fresh 
and  verdant,  finely  diversified  by  noble  hills  and 
forests,  with  trees  of  such  height  that  Las  Casas 
says  they  appeared  to  reach  the  skies. 

When  the  inhabitants  beheld  the  ships,  they 
gathered  together  on  the  coast,  armed  with  bows 
and  arrows,  war-clubs,  and  lances,  and  prepared 
to  defend  their  shores.  The  Spaniards,  however, 
made  no  attempt  to  land  during  that  or  the  suc- 
ceeding day,  but  remained  quietly  on  board  re- 
pairing the  ships,  airing  and  drying  the  damaged 
provisions,  or  reposing  from  the  fatigues  of  the 
voyage.  When  the  savages  perceived  that  these 
wonderful  beings,  who  had  arrived  in  this  strange 
manner  on  their  coast,  were  perfectly  pacific,  and 
made  no  movement  to  molest  them,  their  hostility 
ceased,  and  curiosity  predominated.  They  made 
various  pacific  signals,  waving  their  mantles  like 
banners,  and  inviting  the  Spaniards  to  land. 
Growing  still  more  bold,  they  swam  to  the  ships, 
bringing  off  mantles  and  tunics  of  cotton,  and 
ornaments  of  the  inferior  sort  of  gold  called 
guanin,  which  they  wore  about  their  necks. 
These  they  offered  to  the  Spaniards.  The  ad- 
miral, however,  forbade  all  traffic,  making  them 
presents,  but  taking  nothing  in  exchange,  wishing 
to  impress  them  with  a  favorable  idea  of  the  liber- 
ality and  disinterestedness  of  the  white  men.  The 
pride  of  the  savages  was  touched  at  the  refusal  of 
their  proffered  gifts,  and  this  supposed  contempt 
for  their  manufactures  and  productions.  They 
endeavored  to  retaliate,  by  pretending  like  in- 
difference. On  returning  to  shore,  they  tied 
together  all  the  European  articles  which  had  been 
given  thent,  without  retaining  the  least  trifle,  and 
left  them  lying  on  the  strand,  where  the  Spaniards 
found  them  on  a  subsequent  day. 

Finding  the  strangers  still  declined  to  come  on 
shore,  the  natives  tried  in  every  way  to  gain  their 
confidence,  and  dispel  the  distrust  which  their 
hostile  demonstrations  might  have  caused.  A 
boat  approaching  the  shore  cautiously  one  day,  in 
quest  of  some  safe  place  to  procure  water,  an  an- 
cient Indian,  of  venerable  demeanor,  issued  from 
among  the  trees,  bearing  a  white  banner  on  the 
end  of  a  staff,  and  leading  two  girls,  one  about 
fourteen  years  of  age,  the  other  about  eight,  hav- 
ing jewels  of  guanin  about  their  necks.  These  he 
brought  to  the  boat  and  delivered  to  the  Spaniards, 
making  signs  that  they  were  to  be  detained  as 
hostages  while  the  strangers  should  be  on  shore. 
Upon  this  the  Spaniards  sallied  forth  with  confi- 
dence and  filled  their  water-casks,  the  Indians 
remaining  at  a  distance,  and  observing  the  strict- 
est care,  neither  by  word  nor  movement  to  cause 
any  new  distrust.  When  the  boats  were  about  to 
return  to  the  ships,  the  old  Indian  made  signs  that 
the  young  girls  should  be  taken  on  board,  nor 
would  he  admit  of  any  denial.  On  entering  the 
ships  the  girls  showed  no  signs  of  grief  nor  alarm, 


190 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


though  surrounded  by  what  to  them  must  have 
been  uncouth  and  formidable  beings.  Columbus 
was  careful  that  the  confidence  thus  placed  in  him 
should  not  be  abused.  After  feasting  the  young 
females,  and  ordering  them  to  be  clothed  and 
adorned  with  various  ornaments,  he  sent  them  on 
shore.  The  night,  however,  had  fallen,  and  the 
coast  was  deserted.  They  had  to  return  to  the 
ship,  where  they  remained  all  night  under  the 
careful  protection  of  the  admiral.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  restored  them  to  their  friends.  The  old 
Indian  received  them  with  joy,  and  manifested  a 
grateful  sense  of  the  kind  treatment  they  had  ex- 
perienced. In  the  evening,  however,  when  the 
boats  went  on  shore,  the  young  girls  appeared, 
accompanied  by  a  multitude  of  their  friends,  and 
returned  all  the  presents  they  had  received,  nor 
could  they  be  prevailed  upon  to  retain  any  of  them, 
although  they  must  have  been  precious  in  their 
eyes  ;  so  greatly  was  the  pride  of  these  savages 
piqued  at  having  their  gifts  refused. 

On  the  following  day,  as  the  Adelantado  ap- 
proached the  shore,  two  of  the  principal  inhabit- 
ants, entering  the  water,  took  him  out  of  the  boat 
in  their  arms,  and  carrying  him  to  land,  seated 
him  with  great  ceremony  on  a  grassy  bank.  Don 
Bartholomew  endeavored  to  collect  information 
from  them  respecting  the  country,  and  ordered  the 
notary  of  the  squadron  to  write  down  their  replies. 
The  latter  immediately  prepared  pen,  ink,  and 
paper,  and  proceeded  to  write  ;  but  no  sooner  did 
the  Indians  behold  this  strange  and  mysterious 
process,  than  mistaking  it  for  some  necromantic 
spell,  intended  to  be  wrought  upon  them,  they  fled 
with  terror.  After  some  time  they  returned,  cau- 
tiously scattering  a  fragrant  powder  in  the  air,  and 
burning  some  of  it  in  such  a  direction  that  the 
smoke  should  be  borne  toward  the  Spaniards  by 
the  wind.  This  was  apparently  intended  to  counter- 
act any  baleful  spell,  for  they  regarded  the  strangers 
as  beings  of  a  mysterious  and  supernatural  order. 

The  sailors  looked  upon  these  counter-charms 
of  the  Indians  with  equal  distrust,  and  apprehend- 
ed something  of  magic  ;  nay,  Fernando  Columbus, 
who  was  present,  and  records  the  scene,  appears 
to  doubt  whether  these  Indians  were  not  versed  in 
sorcery,  and  thus  led  to  suspect  it  in  others.* 

Indeed,  not  to  conceal  a  foible,  which  was  more 
characteristic  of  the  superstition  of  the  age  than 
of  the  man,  Columbus  himself  entertainad  an  idea 
of  the  kind,  and  assures  the  sovereigns,  in  his  let- 
ter from  Jamaica,  that  the  people  of  Cariari  and 
its  vicinity  are  great  enchanters,  and  he  intimates 
that  the  two  Indian  girls  who  had  visited  his  ship 
had  magic  powder  concealed  about  their  persons. 
He  adds,  that  the  sailors  attributed  all  the  delays 
and  hardships  experienced  on  that  coast  to  their 
being  under  the  influence  of  some  evil  spell, 
worked  by  the  witchcraft  of  the  natives,  and  that 
they  still  remained  in  that  belief,  f 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  91. 

f  Letter  from  Jamaica. 

NOTE. — We  find  instances  of  the  same  kind  of  su- 
perstition in  the  work  of  Marco  Polo,  and  as  Colum- 
bus considered  himself  in  the  vicinity  of  the  countries 
described  by  that  traveller,  he  may  have  been  influ- 
enced in  this  respect  by  his  narrations.  Speaking  of 
the  island  of  Soccotera  (Socotra),  Marco  Polo  ob- 
serves :  "  The  inhabitants  deal  more  in  sorcery  and 
witchcraft  than  any  other  people,  although  forbidden 
by  their  archbishop,  who  excommunicates  and  anathe- 
matizes them  for  the  sin.  Of  this,  however,  they 
make  little  account,  and  if  any  vessel  belonging  to  a 
pirate  should  injure  one  of  theirs,  they  do  not  fail  to 
lay  him  under  a  spell,  so  that  he  cannot  proceed  on 


For  several  days  the  squadron  remained  at  this 
place,  during  which  time  the  ships  were  examined 
and  repaired,  and  the  crews  enjoyed  repose  and 
the  recreation  of  the  land.  The  Adelantado,  with 
a  band  of  armed  men,  made  excursions  on  shore 
to  collect  information.  There  was  no  pure  gold 
to  be  met  with  here,  all  their  ornaments  were  of 
guanin  ;  but  the  natives  assured  the  Adelantado, 
that,  in  proceeding  along  the  coast,  the  ships 
would  soon  arrive  at  a  country  where  gold  was  in 
great  abundance. 

In  examining  one  of  the  villages,  the  Adelantado 
found,  in  a  large  house,  several  sepulchres.  One 
contained  a  human  body  embalmed  :  in  another, 
there  were  two  bodies  wrapped  in  cotton,  and  so 
preserved  as  to  be  free  from  any  disagreeable 
odor.  They  were  adorned  with  the  ornaments 
most  precious  to  them  when  living  ;  and  the  sepul- 
chres were  decorated  with  rude  carvings  and 
paintings  representing  various  animals,  and  some- 
times what  appeared  to  be  intended  lor  portraits 
of  the  deceased.*  Throughout  most  of  the  savage 
tribes  there  appears  to  have  been  great  venera- 
tion for  the  dead,  and  an  anxiety  to  preserve  their 
remains  undisturbed. 

When  about  to  sail,  Columbus  seized  seven  of 
the  people,  two  of  whom,  apparently  the  most  in- 
telligent, he  selected  to  serve  as  guides  ;  the  rest 
he  suffered  to  depart.  His  late  guide  he  had  dis- 
missed with  presents  at  Cape  Gracias  a  Dios. 
The  inhabitants  of  Cariari  manifested  unusual  sen- 
sibility at  this  seizure  of  their  countrymen.  They 
thronged  the  shore,  and  sent  off  four  of  their  prin- 
cipal men  with  presents  to  the  ships,  imploring 
the  release  of  the  prisoners. 

The  admiral  assured  them  that  he  only  took  their 
companions  as  guides,  for  a  short  distance  along 
the  coast,  and  would  restore  them  soon  in  safety 
to  their  homes.  He  ordered  various  presents  to 
be  given  to  the  ambassadors  ;  but  neither  his 
promises  nor  gifts  could  soothe  the  grief  and  ap- 
prehension of  the  natives  at  beholding  their  friends 
carried  away  by  beings  of  whom  they  had  such 
mysterious  apprehensions. f 


CHAPTER    IV. 

VOYAGE     ALONG      COSTA      RICA  —  SPECULATIONS 
CONCERNING  THE     ISTHMUS   AT  VERAGUA. 

[1502.] 

ON  the  5th  of  October  the  squadron  departed 
from  Cariari,  and  sailed  along  what  is  at  present 
called  Costa  Rica  (or  the  Rich  Coast),  from  the 
gold  and  silver  mines  found  in  after  years  among 
its  mountains.  After  sailing  about  twenty-two 
leagues  the  ships  anchored  in  a  great  bay,  about 
six  leagues  in  length  and  three  on  breadth,  full  of 


his  cruise  until  he  has  made  satisfaction  for  the  dam- 
age ;  and  even  although  he  should  have  a  fair  and 
leading  wind,  they  have  the  power  of  causing  it  to 
change,  and  thereby  obliging  him,  in  spite  of  him- 
self, to  return  to  the  island.  They  can  in  iike  manner, 
cause  the  sea  to  become  calm,  and  at  their  will  can 
raise  tempests,  occasion  shipwrecks,  and  produce 
many  other  extraordinary  effects  that  need  not  be 
particularized. — Marco  Polo,  book  iii.  cap.  35,  Eng. 
translation  by  W.  Marsden. 

*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  21.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  91. 

f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  21.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  91.  Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica 


///  ///////// 


LIFE   AND    VOYAGES    OF    COLUMBUS. 


191 


islands,  with  channels  opening  between  them,  so 
as  to  present  three  or  four  entrances.  It  was 
called  by  the  natives  Caribaro,*  and  had  been 
pointed  out  by  the  natives  of  Cariari  as  plentiful 
in  gold. 

The  islands  were  beautifully  verdant,  covered 
with  groves,  and  sent  forth  the  fragrance  of  fruits 
and  flowers.  The  channels  between  them  were 
so  deep  and  free  from  rocks  that  the  ships  sailed 
along  them,  as  if  in  canals  in  the  streets  of  a  city, 
the  spars  and  rigging  brushing  the  overhanging 
branches  of  the  trees.  After  anchoring,  the  boats 
landed  on  one  of  the  islands,  where  they  found 
twenty  canoes.  The  people  were  on  shore  among 
the  trees.  Being  encouraged  by  the  Indians  of 
Cariari,  who  accompanied  the  Spaniards,  they 
soon  advanced  with  confidence.  Here,  for  the 
first  time  on  this  coast,  the  Spaniards  met  with 
specimens  of  pure  gold  ;  the  natives  wearing 
large  plates  of  it  suspended  round  their  necks  by 
cotton  cords  ;  they  had  ornaments  likewise  of 
guanin,  rudely  shaped  like  eagles.  One  of  them 
exchanged  a  plate  of  gold,  equal  in  value  to  ten 
ducats,  for  three  hawks'  bells. | 

On  the  following  day  the  boats  proceeded  to 
the  main-land  at  the  bottom  of  the  bay.  The 
country  around  was  high  and  rough,  and  the  vil- 
lages were  generally  perched  on  the  heights. 
They  met  with  ten  canoes  of  Indians,  their  heads 
decorated  with  garlands  of  flowers,  and  coronets 
formed  of  the  claws  of  beasts  and  the  quills  of 
birds  ;  J  most  of  them  had  plates  of  gold  about 
their  necks,  but  refused  to  part  with  them.  The 
Spaniards  brought  two  of  them  to  the  admiral  to 
serve  as  guides.  One  had  a  plate  of  pure  gold 
worth  fourteen  ducats,  another  an  eagle  worth 
twenty-two  ducats.  Seeing  fh  *  great  value  which 
the  strangers  set  upon  this  netal,  they  assured 
them  it  was  to  be  had  in  .ahundance  within  the 
distance  of  two  days'  journey  ;  and  mentioned 
various  places  along  the  coast  whence  it  was 
procured,  particularly  Veragua,  which  was  about 
twenty-five  leagues  distant. \ 

The  cupidity  of  the  Spaniards  was  greatly  ex- 
cited, and  they  would  gladly  have  remained  to 
barter,  but  the  admiral  discouraged  all  disposi- 
tion of  the  kind.  He  barely  sought  to  collect 
specimens  and  information  of  the  riches  of  the 
country,  and  then  pressed  forward  in  quest  of  the 
great  object  of  his  enterprise,  the  imaginary 
strait. 

Sailing  on  the  I7th  of  October,  from  this  bay, 
or  rather  gulf,  he  began  to  coast  this  region  of 
reputed  wealth,  since  called  the  coast  of  Veragua  ; 
and  after  sailing  about  twelve  leagues  arrived  at 
a  large  river,  which  his  son  Fernando  calls  the 
Guaig.  Here,  on  the  boats  being  sent  to  land, 
about  two  hundred  Indians  appeared  on  the 
shore,  armed  with  clubs,  lances,  and  swords  of 
palm-wood.  The  forests  echoed  with  the  sound 
of  wooden  drums,  and  the  blasts  of  conch-shells, 
their  usual  war  signals.  They  rushed  into  the  sea 
up  to  their  waists,  brandishing  their  weapons,  and 
splashing  the  water  at  the  Spaniards  in  token  of 
defiance  ;  but  were  soon  pacified  by  gentle  signs 
and  the  intervention  of  the  interpreters,  and 
willingly  bartered  away  their  ornaments,  giving 


*  In  some"  English  maps  this  bay  is  called  Almi- 
rante,  or  Carnabaco  Bay.  The  channel  by  which 
Columbus  entered  is  still  called  Boca  del  Almirante, 
or  the  Mouth  of  the  Admiral. 

f  Journal  of  Porras,  Navarrete,  torn.  i. 

±  P.  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  v. 

§  Columbus's  Letter  from  Jamaica. 


seventeen  plates  of  gold,  worth  one  hundred  and 
fifty  ducats,  for  a  few  toys  and  trifles. 

When  the  Spaniards  returned  the  next  day  to 
renew  their  traffic,  they  found  the  Indians  re- 
lapsed into  hostility,  sounding  their  drums  and 
shells,  and  rushing  forward  to  attack  the  boats. 
An  arrow  from  a  cross-bow,  which  wounded  one 
of  them  in  the  arm,  checked  their  fury,  and  on  the 
discharge  of  a  cannon  they  fled  with  terror. 
Four  of  the  Spaniards  sprang  on  shore,  pursuing 
and  calling  after  them.  They  threw  down  their  wea- 
pons and  came,  awe-struck,  and  gentle  as  lambs, 
bringing  three  plates  of  gold,  and  meekly  and 
thankfully  receiving  whatever  was  given  in  ex- 
change. 

Continuing  along  the  coast,  the  admiral  anchor- 
ed in  the  mouth  of  another  river,  called  the  Catiba. 
Here  likewise  the  sound  of  drums  and  conchs 
from  among  the  forests  gave  notice  that  the  war- 
riors Nvere  assembling.  A  canoe  soon  came  off 
with  two  Indians,  who,  after  exchanging  a  few 
words  with  the  interpreters,  entered  the  admiral's 
ship  with  fearless  confidence  ;  and  being  satisfied 
of  the  friendly  intentions  of  the  strangers,  re- 
turned to  their  cacique  with  a  favorable  report. 
The  boats  landed,  and  the  Spaniards  were  kindly 
received  by  the  cacique.  He  was  naked  like  his 
subjects,  nor  distinguished  in  anyway  from  them, 
except  by  the  great  deference  with  which  he  was 
treated,  and  by  a  trifling  attention  paid  to  his 
personal  comfort,  being  protected  from  a  shower 
of  rain  by  an  immense  leaf  of  a  tree.  He  had  a 
large  plate  of  gold,  which  he  readily  gave  in  ex- 
change, and  permitted  his  people  to  do  the  same. 
Nineteen  plates  of  pure  gold  were  procured  at  this 
place.  Here,  for  the  first  time  in  the  New  World, 
the  Spaniards  metwithsignsof  solid  architecture  ; 
finding  a  great  mass  of  stucco,  formed  of  stone 
and  lime,  a  piece  of  which  was  retained  by  the 
admiral  as  a  specimen,*  considering  it  an  indica- 
tion of  his  approach  to  countries  where  the  arts 
were  in  a  higher  state  of  cultivation. 

He  had  intended  to  visit  other  rivers  along  this 
coast,  but  the  wind  coming  on  to  blow  freshly,  he 
ran  before  it,  passing  in  sight  of  five  towns,  where 
his  interpreters  assured  him  he  might  procure 
great  quantities  of  gold.  One  they  pointed  out 
as  Veragua,  which  has  since  given  its  name  to  the 
whole  province.  Here,  they  said,  were  the  rich- 
est mines,  and  here  most  of  the  plates  of  gold 
were  fabricated.  On  the  following  clay  they  ar- 
rived opposite  a  village  called  Cubiga,  and  here 
Columbus  was  informed  that  the  country  of  gold 
terminated.!  He  resolved  not  to  return  to  explore 
it,  considering  it  as  discovered,  and  its  mines  se- 
cured to  the  crown,  and  being  anxious  to  arrive  at 
the  supposed  strait,  which  he  flattered  himself 
could  be  at  no  great  distance. 

In  fact,  during  his  whole  voyage  along  the 
coast,  he  had  been  under  the  influence  of  one  of 
his  frequent  delusions.  From  the  Indians  met 
with  at  the  island  of  Guanaja,  just  arrived  from 
Yucatan,  he  had  received  accounts  of  some  great, 
and,  as  far  as  he  could  understand,  civilized  na- 
tion in  the  interior.  This  intimation  had  been 
corroborated,  as  he  imagined,  by  the  various 
tribes  with  which  he  had  since  communicated. 
In  a  subsequent  letter  to  the  sovereigns  he  in- 
forms them  that  all  the  Indians  of  this  coast  con- 
curred in  extolling  the  magnificence  of  the  coun- 
try of  Ciguare,  situated  at  ten  clays'  journey,  by 
land,  to  the  west.  The  people  of  that  region  wore 
crowns,  and  bracelets,  and  anklets  of  gold,  and 


Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  92 


f  Ibid. 


192 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


garments  embroidered  with  it.  They  used  it  for  all 
their  domestic  purposes,  even  to  the  ornamenting 
and  embossing  of  their  seats  and  tables.  On  be- 
ing shown  coral,  the  Indians  declared  that  the 
women  of  Ciguare  wore  bands  of  it  about  their 
heads  and  necks.  Pepper  and  other  spices  being 
shown  them,  were  equally  said  to  abound  there. 
They  described  it  as  a  country  of  commerce,  with 
great  fairs  and  seaports,  in  which  ships  arrived 
armed  with  cannon.  The  people  were  warlike 
also,  armed  like  the  Spaniards  with  swords,  buck- 
lers, cuirasses,  and  cross-bows,  and  they  were 
mounted  on  horses.  Above  all,  Columbus  under- 
stood from  them  that  the  sea  continued  round  to 
Ciguare>  and  that  ten  days  beyond  it  was  the 
Ganges. 

These  may  have  been  vague  and  wandering  ru- 
mors concerning  the  distant  kingdoms  of  Mexico 
and  Peru,  and  many  of  the  details  may  have  been 
filled  up  by  the  imagination  of  Columbus.  They 
made,  however,  a  strong  impression  on  his  mind. 
He  supposed  that  Ciguare  must  be  some  province 
belonging  to  the  Grand  Khan,  or  some  other  east- 
ern potentate,  and  as  the  sea  reached  it,  he  con- 
cluded it  was  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  peninsula, 
bearing  the  same  position  with  respect  to  Veragua 
that  Fontarabia  does  with  Tortosa  in  Spain,  or 
Pisa  with  Venice  in  Italy.  By  proceeding  farther 
eastward,  therefore,  he  must  soon  arrive  at  a  strait, 
like  that  of  Gibraltar,  through  which  he  could  pass 
into  another  sea,  and  visit  this  country  of  Ciguare, 
and,  of  course,  arrive  at  the  banks  of  the  Ganges. 
He  accounted  for  the  circumstance  of  his  having 
arrived  so  near  to  that  river,  by  the  idea  which  he 
had  long  entertained,  that  geographers  were  mis- 
taken as  to  the  circumference  of  the  globe  ;  that 
it  was  smaller  than  was  generally  imagined,  and 
that  a  degree  of  the  equinoctial  line  was  but  fifty- 
six  miles  and  two  thirds.* 

With  these  ideas  Columbus  determined  to  press 
forward,,  leaving  the  rich  country  of  Yeragua  un- 
explored. Nothing  could  evince  more  clearly  his 
generous  ambition,  than  hurrying  in  this  brief 
manner  along  a  coast  where  wealth  was  to  be 
gathered  at  every  step,  for  the  purpose  of  seeking 
a  strait  which,  however  it  might  produce  vast 
benefit  to  mankind,  could  yield  little  else  to  himself 
than  the  glory  of  the  discovery. 


CHAPTER  V. 

DISCOVERY  OF  PUERTO  BELLO  AND  EL  RETRETE 
— COLUMBUS  ABANDONS  THE  SEARCH  AFTER 
THE  STRAIT. 

[1502.] 

ON  the  2(1  of  November  the  squadron  anchored 
in  a  spacious  and  commodious  harbor,  where  the 
vessels  could  approach  close  to  the  shore  without 
danger.  It  was  surrounded  by  an  elevated  coun- 
try ;  open  and  cultivated,  with  houses  within  bow- 
shot of  each  other,  surrounded  by  fruit-trees, 
groves  of  palms,  and  fields  producing  maize,  veg- 
etables, and  the  delicious  pineapple,  so  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  had  the  mingled  appearance 
of  orchard  and  garden.  Columbus  was  so  pleased 
with  the  excellence  of  the  harbor  and  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  surrounding  country  that  he  gave  it 
the  name  of  Puerto  Bello.f  It  is  one  of  the  few 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica.       Navarrete 
Colec.,  torn.  5. 

f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  23.     Hist,  del  Almirante. 


places  along  this  coast  which  retain  the  appellation 
given  by  the  illustrious  discoverer.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  that  they  have  so  generally  been  discon- 
tinued, as  they  were  so  often  records  of  his  feel- 
ings, and  of  circumstances  attending  the  discov- 
ery. 

For  seven  days  they  were  detained  in  this  port 
by  heavy  rain  and  stormy  weather.  The  natives  , 
repaired  from  all  quarters  in  canoes,  bringing 
fruits  and  vegetables  and  balls  of  cotton,  but  there 
was  no  longer  gold  offered  in  traffic.  The  cacique 
and  seven  of  his  principal  chieftains  had  small 
plates  of  gold  hanging  in  their  noses,  but  the  rest 
of  the  natives  appear  to  have  been  destitute  of  all 
ornaments  of  the  kind.  They  were  generally  na- 
ked and  painted  red  ;  the  cacique  alone  was  paint- 
ed black.* 

Sailing  hence,  on  the  gth  of  November,  they 
proceeded  eight  leagues  to  the  eastward,  to  the 
point  since  known  as  Nombre  de  Dios  ;  but  be- 
ing driven  back  for  some  distance,  they  anchored 
in  a  harbor  in  the  vicinity  of  three  small  islands. 
These,  with  the  adjacent  country  of  the  main-land, 
were  cultivated  with  fields  of  Indian  corn,  and 
various  fruits  and  vegetables,  whence  Columbus 
called  the  harbor  Puerto  de  Bastimentos,  or  Port 
of  Provisions.  Here  they  remained  until  the  23d, 
endeavoring  to  repair  their  vessels,  which  leaked 
excessively.  They  were  pierced  in  all  parts  by  the 
teredo  or  worm  which  abounds  in  the  tropical 
seas.  It  is  of  the  size  of  a  man's  finger,  and  bores 
through  the  stoutest  planks  and  timbers,  so  as 
soon  to  destroy  any  vessel  that  is  not  well  copper- 
ed. After  leaving  this  port  they  touched  at 
another  called  Guiga,  where  above  three  hundred 
of  the  natives  appeared  on  the  shore,  some  with 
provisions,  and  some  with  golden  ornaments, 
which  they  offered  in  barter.  Without  making  any 
stay,  however,  the  admiral  urged  his  way  forward  ; 
but  rough  and  adverse  winds  again  obliged  him 
to  take  shelter  in  a  small  port,  with  a  narrow  en- 
trance, not  above  twenty  paces  wide,  beset  on 
each  side  with  reefs  of  rocks,  the  sharp  points  of 
which  rose  above  the  surface.  Within,  there  was 
not  room  tor  more  than  five  or  six  ships  ;  yet  the 
port  was  so  deep  that  they  had  no  good  anchor- 
age, unless  they  approached  near  enough  to  the 
land  for  a  man  to  leap  on  shore. 

From  the  smallness  of  the  harbor,  Columbus 
gave  it  the  name  of  £/  Rctrcte,  or  The  Cabinet. 
He  had  been  betrayed  into  this  inconvenient  and 
dangerous  port  by  the  misrepresentations  of  the 
seamen  sent  to  examine  it,  who  were  always  eager 
to  come  to  anchor  and  have  communication  with 
the  shore. f 

The  adjacent  country  was  level  and  verdant, 
covered  with  herbage,  but  with  few  trees.  The 
port  was  infested  with  alligators,  which  basked  in 
the  sunshine  on  the  beach,  filling  the  air  with  a 
powerful  and  musky  odor.  They  were  timorous, 
and  fled  on  being  attacked,  but  the  Indians  affirm 
ed  that  if  they  found  a  man  sleeping  on  the  shore 
they  would  seize  and  drag  him  into  the  water. 
These  alligators  Columbus  pronounced  to  be  the 
same  as  the  crocodiles  of  the  Nile.  For  nine  days 
the  squadron  was  detained  in  this  port  by  tem- 
pestuous weather.  The  natives  of  this  place  were 
tall,  well  proportioned,  and  graceful  ;  of  gentle 
and  friendly  manners,  and  brought  whatever  they 
possessed  to  exchange  for  European  trinkets. 

As  long  as  the  admiral  had  control  over  the  ac- 


*  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv. 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  23.     Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  92. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


193 


tions  of  his  people,  the  Indians  were  treated  with 
justice  and  kindness,  and  everything  went  on  am- 
icably. The  vicinity  of  the  ships  to  land,  how- 
ever, enabled  the  seamen  to  get  on  shore  in  the 
night  without  license.  The  natives  received  them 
in  their  dwellings  with  their  accustomed  hospi- 
tality ;  but  the  rough  adventurers,  instigated  by 
avarice  and  lust,  soon  committed  excesses  that 
roused  their  generous  hosts  to  revenge.  Every 
night  there  were  brawls  and  fights  on  shore,  and 
blood  was  shed  on  both  sides.  The  number  of  the 
Indians  daily  augmented  by  arrivals  from  the  in- 
terior. They  became  more  powerful  and  daring 
as  they  became  more  exasperated  ;  and  seeing 
that  the  vessels  lay  close  to  the  shore,  approached 
in  a  great  multitude  to  attack  them. 

The  admiral  thought  at  first  to  disperse  them 
by  discharging  cannon  without  ball,  but  they  were 
not  intimidated  by  the  sound,  regarding  it  as  a 
kind  of  harmless  thunder.  They  replied  to  it  by 
yells  and  howlings,  beating  their  lances  and  clubs 
against  the  trees  and  bushes  in  furious  menace. 
The  situation  of  the  ships  so  close  to  the  shore 
exposed  them  to  assaults,  and  made  the  hostility 
of  the  natives  unusually  formidable.  Columbus 
ordered  a  shot  or  two,  therefore,  to  be  discharged 
among  them.  When  they  saw  the  havoc  made, 
they  fled  in  terror,  and  offered  no  further  hostility.* 

The  continuance  of  stormy  winds  from  the  east 
and  the  north-east  in  addition  to  the  constant  oppo- 
sition of  the  currents,  disheartened  the  companions 
of  Columbus,  and  they  began  to  murmur  against 
any  further  prosecution  of  the  voyage.  The  sea- 
men thought  that  some  hostile  spell  was  operat- 
ing, and  the  commanders  remonstrated  against 
attempting  to  force  their  way  in  spite  of  the  ele- 
ments, with  ships  crazed  and  worm-eaten,  and 
continually  in  need  of  repair.  Few  of  his  compan- 
ions could  sympathize  with  Columbus  in  his  zeal 
for  mere  discovery.  They  were  actuated  by  more 
gainful  motives,  and  looked  back  with  regret  on 
the  rich  coast  they  had  left  behind,  to  go  in  search 
of  an  imaginary  strait.  It  is  probable  that  Co- 
lumbus himself  began  to  doubt  the  object  of  his 
enterprise.  If  he  knew  the  details  of  the  recent 
voyage  of  Bastides  he  must  have  been  aware  that 
he  had  arrived  from  an  opposite  quarter  to  about 
the  place  where  that  navigator's  exploring  voyage 
from  the  east  had  terminated  ;  consequently  that 
there  was  but  little  probability  of  the  existence  of 
the  strait  he  had  imagined. f 

At  all  events,  he  determined  to  relinquish  the 
further  prosecution  of  his  voyage  eastward  for  the 
present,  and  to  return  to  the  coast  of  Veragua,  to 
search  for  those  mines  of  which  he  had  heard  so 
much  and  seen  so  many  indications.  Should  they 

*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  23.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  92. 

f  It  appears  doubtful  whether  Columbus  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  exact  particulars  of  that  voyage,  as 
they  could  scarcely  have  reached  Spain  previously  to 
his  sailing.  Baslides  had  been  seized  in  Hispaniola 
by  Bobadilla,  and  was  on  board  of  that  very  fleet 
which  was  wrecked  at  the  time  that  Columbus  arrived 
off  San  Domingo.  He  escaped  the  fate  that  attended 
most  of  his  companions  and  returned  to  Spain,  where 
he  was  rewarded  by  the  sovereigns  for  his  enterprise. 
Though  some  of  his  seamen  had  reached  Spain  pre- 
vious to  the  sailing  of  Columbus,  and  had  given  a  gen- 
eral idea  of  the  voyage,  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  had 
transmitted  his  papers  and  charts.  Porras,  in  his 
journal  of  the  voyage  of  Columbus,  states  that  they 
arrived  at  the  place  where  the  discoveries  of  Bastides 
terminated  ;  but  this  information  he  may  have  ob- 
tained subsequently  at  San  Domingo. 


prove  equal  to  his  hopes,  he  would  have  where- 
withal to  return  to  Spain  in  triumph,  and  silence 
the  reproaches  of  his  enemies,  even  though  he 
should  fail  in  the  leading  object  of  his  expedition. 
Here,  then,  ended  the  lofty  anticipations  which 
had  elevated  Columbus  above  all  mercenary  inter- 
ests ;  which  had  made  him  regardless  ot  hard- 
ships and  perils,  and  given  an  heroic  character  to 
the  early  part  of  this  voyage.  It  is  true,  he  had 
been  in  pursuit  of  a  mere  chimera,  but  it  was  the 
chimera  of  a  splendid  imagination  and  a  pene- 
trating judgment.  If  he  was  disappointed  in  his 
expectation  of  finding  a  strait  through  the  Isthmus 
of  Darien,  it  was  because  nature  herself  had  been 
disappointed,  for  she  appears  to  have  attempted 
to  make  one,  but  to  have  attempted  it  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

RETURN    TO    VERAGUA— THE     ADELANTADO     EX- 
PLORES  THE  COUNTRY. 

[1502.] 

ON  the  5th  of  December  Columbus  sailed  from 
El  Retrete,  and  relinquishing  his  course  to  the 
east,  returned  westward,  in  search  of  the  gold 
mines  of  Veragua.  On  the  same  evening  he 
anchored  in  Puerto  Bello,  about  ten  leagues  dis- 
tant ;  whence  departing  on  the  succeeding  day, 
the  wind  suddenly  veered  to  the  west,  and  bega'n 
to  blow  directly  adverse  to  the  new  course  he  had 
adopted.  For  three  months  he  had  been  longing 
in  vain  for  such  a  wind,  and  now  it  came  merely 
to  contradict  him.  Here  was  a  temptation  to  re- 
sume his  route  to  the  east,  but  he  did  not  dare 
trust  to  the  continuance  of  the  wind,  which,  in 
these  parts,  appeared  but  seldom  to  blow  from 
that  quarter.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  keep  on 
in  the  present  direction,  trusting  that  the  breeze 
would  soon  change  again  to  the  eastward. 

In  a  little  while  the  wind  began  to  blow  with 
dreadful  violence,  and  to  shift  about  in  such 
manner  as  to  baffle  all  seamanship.  Unable  to 
reach  Veragua,  the  ships  were  obliged  to  put 
back  to  Puerto  Bello,  and  when  they  would  have 
entered  that  harbor,  a  sudden  veering  of  the  gale 
drove  them  from  the  land.  For  nine  days  they 
were  blown  and  tossed  about,  at  the  mercy  of  a 
furious  tempest,  in  an  unknown  sea,  and  often  ex- 
posed to  the  awful  perils  of  a  lee-shore.  It  is 
wonderful  that  such  open  vessels,  so  crazed  and 
decayed,  could  outlive  such  a  commotion  of  the 
elements.  Nowhere  is  a  storm  so  awful  as  be- 
tween the  tropics.  The  sea,  according  to  the  de- 
scription of  Columbus,  boiled  at  times  like  a  cal- 
dron ;  at  other  times  it  ran  in  mountain  waves, 
covered  with  foam.  At  night  the  raging  billows 
resembled  great  surges  of  flame,  owing  to  those 
luminous  particles  which  cover  the  surface  of  the 
water  in  these  seas,  and  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  For  a  day  and  night 
the  heavens  glowed  as  a  furnace  with  the  inces- 
sant flashes  ot  lightning  ;  while  the  loud  claps  of 
thunder  were  often  mistaken  by  the  affrighted 
mariners  for  signal  guns  of  distress  from  their 
foundering  companions.  During  the  whole  time, 
says  Columbus,  it  poured  down  from  the  skies, 
not  rain,  but  as  it  were  a  second  deluge.  The 
seamen  were  almost  drowned  in  their  open  ves- 
sels. Haggard  with  toil  and  affright,  some  gave 
themselves  over  for  lost  ;  they  confessed  their 
sins  to  each  other,  according  to  the  rites  of  the 


194 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


Catholic  religion,  and  prepared  themselves  for 
death  ;  many  in  their  desperation,  called  upon 
death  as  a  welcome  relief  from  such  overwhelm- 
ing horrors.  In  the  midst  of  this  wild  tumult  of 
the  elements,  they  beheld  a  new  object  of  alarm. 
The  ocean  in  one  place  became  strangely  agitated. 
The  water  was  whirled  up  into  a  kind  of  pyramid 
or  cone,  while  a  livid  cloud,  tapering  to  a  point, 
bent  clown  to  meet  it.  Joining  together,  they 
formed  a  vast  column,  which  rapidly  approached 
the  ships,  spinning  along  the  surface  of  the  deep, 
and  drawing  up  the  waters  with  a  rushing  sound. 
The  affrighted  mariners,  when  they  beheld  this 
water-spout  advancing  toward  them,  despaired  of 
all  human  means  to  avert  it,  and  began  to  repeat 
passages  from  St.  John  the  Evangelist.  The  water- 
spout passed  close  by  the  ships  without  injuring 
them,  and  the  trembling  mariners  attributed  their 
escape  to  the  miraculous  efficacy  of  their  quota- 
tions from  the  Scriptures. * 

In  this  same  night  they  lost  sight  of  one  of  the 
caravels,  and  for  three  dark  and  stormy  days  gave 
it  up  for  lost.  At  length,  to  their  great  relief,  it 
rejoined  the  squadron,  having  lost  its  boat,  and 
been  obliged  to  cut  its  cable,  in  an  attempt  to 
anchor  on  a  boisterous  coast,  and  having  since 
been  driven  to  and  fro  by  the  storm.  For  one  or 
two  days  there  was  an  interval  of  calm,  and  the 
tempest-tossed  mariners  had  time  to  breathe. 
They  looked  upon  this  tranquillity,  however,  as 
deceitful,  and  in  their  gloomy  mood  beheld  every- 
thing with  a  doubtful  and  foreboding  eye.  Great 
numbers  of  sharks,  so  abundant  and  ravenous  in 
these  latitudes,  were  seen  about  the  ships.  This 
was  construed  into  an  evil  omen  ;  for  among  the 
"uperstitions  of  the  seas  it  is  believed  that  these 
•oracious  fish  can  smell  dead  bodies  at  a  distance  ; 
.  i'it  they  have  a  kind  of  presentiment  of  their 
1  jy,  and1  keep  about  vessels  which  have  sick 
persons  or.  board,  or  which  are  in  danger  of 
beinp-  wrecked.  Several  of  these  fish  they  caught, 
using  large  hooks  fastened  to  chains,  and  some- 
times baited  merely  with  a  piece  of  colored  cloth. 
From  the  rrr.w  of  one  they  took  out  a  living  tortoise, 
from  that  c.r  another  the  head  of  a  shark,  recently 
thrown  from  cne  of  the  ships  ;  such  is  the  indis- 
criminate voracity  cf  these  terrois  of  the  ocean. 
Notwithstanding  their  superstitious  fancies,  the 
seamen  were  glad  tc  use  a  part  of  these  sharks  for 
food,  being;  very  short  of  provisions.  The  length 
of  the  voyage  had  consumed  the  greater  part  of 
their  sea-stores  ;  the  heat  and  humidity  of  the 
climate  and  the  leakage  of  the  ships  had  dam- 
aged the  remainder,  and  their  biscuit  was  so  filled 
with  worms  that,  notwithstanding  their  hunger, 
they  were  obliged  to  eat  it  in  the  dark,  lest  their 
stomachs  should  revolt  at  its  appearance.f 

At  length,  on  the  I7th,  they  were  enabled  to 
enter  a  port  resembling  a  great  canal,  whert  they 
enjoyed  three  days  of  repose.  The  natives  of  this 
vicinity  built  their  cabins  in  trees,  on  stakes  or 
poles  laid  from  one  branch  to  another.  The 
Spaniards  supposed  this  to  be  through  the  fear  of 
wild  beasts,  or  of  surprisals  from  neighboring 
tribes  ;  the  different  nations  of  these  coasts  being 
extremely  hostile  to  one  another.  It  may  have 
been  a  precaution  against  inundations  caused  by 
floods  from  the  mountains.  After  leaving  this 
port  they  were  driven  backward  and  forward  by 
the  changeable  and  tempestuous  winds  until  the 
day  after  Christmas,  when  they  sheltered  them- 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  24.     Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  90. 

\  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  94. 


selves  in  another  port,  where  they  remained  until 
the  3d  of  January,  1503,  repairing  one  of  the  cara- 
vels, and  procuring  wood,  water,  and  a  supply  of 
maize  or  Indian  corn.  These  measures  being 
completed,  they  again  put  to  sea,  and  on  the  day 
of  Epiphany,  to  their  great  joy,  anchored  at  the 
mouth  of  a  river  called  by  the  natives  Yebra, 
within  a  league  or  two  of  the  river  Veragua,  and 
in  the  country  said  to  be  so  rich  in  mines.  To 
this  river,  from  arriving  at  it  on  the  day  of 
Epiphany,  Columbus  gave  the  name  of  Belen  or 
Bethlehem. 

For  nearly  a  month  he  had  endeavored  to  ac- 
complish the  voyage  from  Puerto  Bello  to  Vera- 
gua, a  distance  of  about  thirty  leagues,  and  had 
encountered  so  many  troubles  and  adversities, 
from  changeable  winds  and  currents,  and  boister- 
ous tempests,  that  he  gave  this  intermediate  line 
of  seaboard  the  name  of  La  Costa  de  los  Con- 
trastes,  or  the  Coast  of  Contradictions.* 

Columbus  immediately  ordered  the  mouths  of 
the  Belen,  and  of  its  neighboring  river  of  Vera- 
gua, to  be  sounded.  The  latter  proved  too  shal- 
low to  admit  his  vessels,  but  the  Belen  was  some- 
what deeper,  and  it  was  thought  they  might  enter 
it  with  safety.  Seeing  a  village  on  the  banks  of 
the  Belen,  the  admiral  sent  the  boats  on  shore  to 
procure  information.  On  their  approach  the  in- 
habitants issued  forth  with  weapons  in  hand  to  op- 
pose their  landing,  but  were  readily  pacified.  They 
seemed  unwilling  to  give  any  intelligence  about 
the  gold  mines  ;  but,  on  being  importuned,  de- 
clared that  they  lay  in  the  vicinity  of  the  river  of 
Veragua.  To  that  river  the  boats  were  dis- 
patched on  the  following  day.  They  met  with  the 
reception  so  frequent  along  this  coast,  where 
many  of  the  tribes  were  fierce  and  warlike,  and 
are  supposed  to  have  been  of  Carib  origin.  As 
the  boats  entered  the  river,  the  natives  sallied 
forth  in  their  canoes,  and  others  assembled  in 
menacing  style  on  the  shores.  The  Spaniards, 
however,  had  brought  with  them  an  Indian  of  that 
coast,  who  put  an  end  to  this  show  of  hostility  by 
assuring  his  countrymen  that  the  strangers  came 
only  to  traffic  with  them. 

The  various  accounts  of  the  riches  of  these  parts 
appeared  to  be  confirmed  by  what  the  Spaniards 
saw  and  heard  among  these  people.  They  pro- 
cured in  exchange  for  the  veriest  trifles  twenty 
plates  of  gold,  with  several  pipes  of  the  same 
metal,  and  crude  masses  of  ore.  The  Indians  in- 
formed them  that  the  mines  lay  among  distant 
mountains  ;  and  that  when  they  went  in  quest  of 
it  they  were  obliged  to  practice  rigorous  fasting 
and  continence. f 

The  favorable  report  brought  by  the  boats  de- 
termined the  admiral  to  remain  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  river  Belen  having  the  greatest  depth, 
two  of  the  caravels  entered  it  on  the  gth  of  Janu- 
ary, and  the  two  others  on  the  following  day  at 
high  tide,  which  on  that  coast  does  not  rise  above 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  94. 

f  A  superstitious  notion  wilh  respect  to  gold  ap- 
pears to  have  been  very  prevalent  among  the  natives. 
The  Indians  of  Hispaniola  observed  the  same  priva- 
tions when  they  sought  for  it,  abstaining  from  food 
and  from  sexual  intercourse.  Columbus,  who  seemed 
to  look  upon  gold  as  one  of  the  sacred  and  mystic 
treasures  of  the  earth,  wished  to  encourage  similar 
observances  among  the  Spaniards  ;  exhorting  them  to 
purify  themselves  for  the  research  of  the  mines  by 
fasting,  prayer,  and  chastity.  It  is  scarcely  neces- 
sary to  add,  that  his  advice  was  but  little  attended  to 
by  his  rapacious  and  sensual  followers. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


193 


half  a  fathom.*  The  natives  came  to  them  in  the 
most  friendly  manner,  bringing  great  quantities 
of  fish,  with  which  that  river  abounded.  They 
brought  also  golden  ornaments  to  traffic,  but 
continued  to  affirm  that  Veragua  was  the  place 
whence  the  ore  was  procured. 

The  Adelantado,  with  his  usual  activity  and  en- 
terprise, set  off  on  the  third  day,  with  the  boats 
well  armed,  to  ascend  the  Veragua  about  a  league 
and  a  half,  to  the  residence  of  Quibian,  the  princi- 
pal cacique.  The  chieftain,  hearing  of  his  inten- 
tion, met  him  near  the  entrance  of  the  river, 
attended  by  his  subjects  in  several  canoes.  He 
was  tall,  of  powerful  frame,  and  warlike  demeanor  ; 
the  interview  was  extremely  amicable.  The  ca- 
cique presented  the  Adelantado  with  the  golden 
ornaments  which  he  wore,  and  received  as  mag- 
nificent presents  a  few  European  trinkets.  They 
parted  mutually  well  pleased.  On  the  following 
day  Quibian  visited  the  ships,  where  he  was  hos- 
pitably entertained  by  the  admiral.  They  could 
only  communicate  by  signs,  and  as  the  chieftain 
was  of  a  taciturn  and  cautious  character,  the  in- 
terview was  not  of  long  duration.  Columbus 
made  him  several  presents  ;  the  followers  of  the 
cacique  exchanged  many  jewels  of  gold  for  the 
usual  trifles,  and  Quibian  returned,  without  much 
ceremony,  to  his  home. 

On  the  24th  of  January  there  was  a  sudden  swell- 
ing of  the  river.  The  waters  came  rushing  from 
the  interior  like  a  vast  torrent  ;  the  ships  were 
forced  from  their  anchors,  tossed  from  side  to 
side,  and  driven  against  each  other  ;  the  foremast 
of  the  admiral's  vessel  was  carried  away,  and  the 
whole  squadron  was  in  imminent  danger  of  ship- 
wreck. While  exposed  to  this  peril  in  the  river, 
they  were  prevented  from  running  out  to  sea  by  a 
violent  storm,  and  by  the  breakers  which  beat 
upon  the  bar.  This  sudden  rising  of  the  river 
Columbus  attributed  to  some  heavy  fall  of  rain 
among  the  range  of  distant  mountains,  to  which 
he  had  given  the  name  of  the  mountains  of  San 
Christoval.  The  highest  of  these  rose  to  a  peak 
far  above  the  clouds. f 

The  weather  continued  extremely  boisterous  for 
several  days.  At  length,  on  the  6th  of  February, 
the  sea  being  tolerably  calm,  the  Adelantado,  at- 
tended by  sixty-eight  men  well  armed,  proceeded 
in  the  boats  to  explore  the  Veragua,  and  seek  its 
reputed  mines.  When  he  ascended  the  river  and 
drew  near  to  the  village  of  Quibian,  situated  on 
the  side  of  a  hill,  the  cacique  came  down  to  the 
bank  to  meet  him,  with  a  great  train  of  his  sub- 
jects, unarmed,  and  making  signs  of  peace. 
Quibian  was  naked,  and  painted  after  the  fashion 
of  the  country.  One  of  his  attendants  drew  a 
great  stone  out  of  the  river,  and  washed  and 
rubbed  it  carefully,  upon  which  the  chieftain 
seated  himself  as  upon  a  throne. J  He  received 
the  Adelantado  with  great  courtesy  ;  for  the  lofty, 
vigorous,  and  iron  form  of  the  latter,  and  his  look 
of  resolution  and  command,  were  calculated  to 
inspire  awe  and  respect  in  an  Indian  warrior. 
The  cacique,  however,  was  wary  and  politic.  His 
jealousy  was  awakened  by  the  intrusion  of  these 
strangers  into  his  territories  ;  but  he  saw  the 
futility  of  any  open  attempt  to  resist  them.  He 
acceded  to  the  wishes  of  the  Adelantado,  there- 
fore, to  visit  the  interior  of  his  dominions,  and 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  95. 

f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  25.     Hist,  del  Almirante, 


cap.  95. 


Peter  Martyr,  decad.  ili.  lib.  iv. 


furnished  him  with  three  guides  to  conduct  him 
to  the  mines. 

Leaving  a  number  of  his  men  to  guard  the 
boats,  the  Adelantado  departed  on  foot  with  the 
remainder.  After  penetrating  into  the  interior 
about  four  leagues  and  a  half,  they  slept  for  the 
first  night  on  the  banks  of  a  river,  which  seemed 
to  water  the  whole  country  with  its  windings,  as 
they  had  crossed  it  upward  of  forty  times.  On 
the  second  day  they  proceeded  a  league  and  a 
half  farther,  and  arrived  among  thick  forests, 
where  their  guides  informed  them  the  mines  were 
situated.  In  lact,  the  whole  soil  appeared  to  be 
impregnated  with  gold.  They  gathered  it  from 
among  the  roots  of  the  trees,  which  were  of  an 
immense  height  and  magnificent  foliage.  In  the 
space  of  two  hours  each  man  had  collected  a  little 
quantity  of  gold,  gathered  from  the  surface  of  the 
earth.  Hence  the  guides  took  the  Adelantado  to 
the  summit  of  a  high  hill,  and  showing  him  an  ex- 
tent of  country  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  as- 
sured him  that  the  whole  of  it,  to  the  distance  of 
twenty  days'  journey  westward,  abounded  in 
gold,  naming  to  him  several  of  the  principal 
places.*  The  Adelantado  gazed  with  enraptured 
eye  over  a  vast  wilderness  of  continued  forest, 
where  only  here  and  there  a  bright  column  of 
smoke  from  amid  the  trees  gave  sign  of  some 
savage  hamlet,  or  solitary  wigwam,  and  the  wild, 
unappropriated  aspect  of  this  golden  country  de- 
lighted him  more  than  if  he  had  beheld  it  covered 
with  towns  and  cities,  and  adorned  with  all  the 
graces  of  cultivation.  He  returned  with  his 
party,  in  high  spirits,  to  the  ships,  and  rejoiced 
the  admiral  with  the  favorable  report  of  his  expe- 
dition. It  was  soon  discovered,  however,  that 
the  politic  Quibian  had  deceived  them.  His 
guides,  by  his  instructions,  had  taken  the  Span- 
iards to  the  mines  of  a  neighboring  cacique,  with 
whom  he  was  at  war,  hoping  to  divert  them  into 
the  territories  of  his  enemy.  The  real  mines  of 
Veragua,  it  was  said,  were  nearer  and  much  more 
wealthy. 

The  indefatigable  Adelantado  set  forth  again 
on  the  i6th  of  February,  with  an  armed  band  of 
fifty-nine  men,  marching  along  the  coast  west- 
ward, a  boat  with  fourteen  men  keeping  pace 
with  him.  In  this  excursion  he  explored  an  ex- 
tensive tract  of  country,  and  visited  the  dominions 
of  various  caciques,  by  whom  he  was  hospitably 
entertained.  He  met  continually  with  proofs  of 
abundance  of  gold  ;  the  natives  generally  wearing 
great  plates  of  it  suspended  round  their  necks 
by  cotton  cords.  There  were  tracts  of  land, 
also,  cultivated  with  Indian  corn — one  of  which 
continued  for  the  extent  of  six  leagues  ;  and  the 
country  abounded  with  excellent  fruits.  He  again 
heard  of  a  nation  in  the  interior,  advanced  in  arts 
and  arms,  wearing  clothing,  and  being  armed 
like  the  Spaniards.  Either  these  were  vague  and 
exaggerated  rumors  concerning  the  great  empire 
of  Peru,  or  the  Adelantado  had  misunderstood 
the  signs  of  his  informants.  He  returned,  after 
an  absence  of  several  days,  with  a  great  quantity 
of  gold,  and  with  animating  accounts  of  the 
country.  He  had  found  no  port,  however,  equal 
to  the  river  of  Belen,  and  was  convinced  that  gold 
was  nowhere  to  be  met  with  in  such  abundance 
as  in  the  district  of  Veragua.f 


*  Letter  of  the  Admiral  from  Jamaica. 
f  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  25.     Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  95. 


196 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS, 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COMMENCEMENT  OF  A  SETTLEMENT  ON  THE 
RIVER  BELEN — CONSPIRACY  OF  THE  NATIVES 
— EXPEDITION  OF  THE  ADELANTADO  TO  SUR- 
PRISE QUIBIAN. 

[1503.] 

THE  reports  brought  to  Columbus,  from  every 
side,  of  the  wealth  of  the  neighborhood  ;  the 
golden  tract  of  twenty  days'  journey  in  extent, 
shown  to  his  brother  from  the  mountain  ;  the 
rumors  of  a  rich  and  civilized  country  at  no  great 
distance,  all  convinced  him  that  he  had  reached 
one  of  the  most  favored  parts  of  the  Asiatic  con- 
tinent. Again  his  ardent  mind  kindled  up  with 
glowing  anticipations.  He  fancied  .himself  ar- 
rived at  a  fountain-head  of  riches,  at  one  of  the 
sources  of  the  unbounded  wealth  of  King  Solo- 
mon. Josephus,  in  his  work  on  the  antiquities  of 
the  Jews,  had  expressed  an  opinion  that  the  gold 
for  the  building  of  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  had 
been  procured  from  the  mines  of  the  Aurea 
Chersonesus.  Columbus  supposed  the  mines  of 
Veragua  to  be  the  same.  They  lay,  as  he  ob- 
served, "  within  the  same  distance  from  the  pole 
and  from  the  line  ;"  and  if  the  information  which 
he  fancied  he  had  received  from  the  Indians  was 
to  be  depended  on,  they  were  situated  about  the 
same  distance  from  the  Ganges.* 

Here,  then,  it  appeared  to  him,  was  a  place  at 
which  to  found  a  colony,  and  establish  a  mart 
that  should  become  the  emporium  of  a  vast  tract 
of  mines.  Within  the  two  first  days  after  his  ar- 
rival in  the  country,  as  he  wrote  to  the  sovereigns, 
he  had  seen  more  signs  of  gold  than  in  Hispaniola 
during  four  years.  That  island,  so  long  the  ob- 
ject of  his  pride  and  hopes,  had  been  taken  from 
him,  and  was  a  scene  of  confusion  ;  the  pearl 
coast  of  Paria  was  ravaged  by  mere  adventurers  ; 
all  his  plans  concerning  both  had  been  defeated  ; 
but  here  was  a  far  more  wealthy  region  than 
either,  and  one  calculated  to  console  him  for  all 
his  wrongs  and  deprivations. 

On  consulting  with  his  brother,  therefore,  he 
resolved  immediately  to  commence  an  establish- 
ment here,  for  the  purpose  of  securing  the  posses- 
sion of  the  country,  and  exploring  and  working  the 
mines.  The  Adelantado  agreed  to  remain  with 
the  greater  part  of  the  people  while  the  admiral 
should  return  to  Spain  for  reinforcements  and 
supplies.  The  greatest  dispatch  was  employed  in 
carrying  this  plan  into  immediate  operation. 
Eighty  men  were  selected  to  remain.  They  were 
separated  into  parties  of  about  ten  each,  and  com- 
menced building  houses  on  a  small  eminence, 
situated  on  the  bank  of  a  creek,  about  a  bow-shot 
within  the  mouth  of  the  river  Belen.  The  houses 
were  of  wood,  thatched  with  the  leaves  of  palm- 
trees.  One  larger  than  the  rest  was  to  serve  as  a 
magazine,  to  receive  their  ammunition,  artillery, 
and  a  part  of  their  provisions.  The  principal  part 
was  stored,  for  greater  security,  on  board  of  one 
of  the  caravels,  which  was  to  be  left  for  the  use  of 
the  colony.  It  was  true  they  had  but  a  scanty 
supply  of  European  stores  remaining,  consisting 
chiefly  of  biscuit,  cheese,  pulse,  wine,  oil,  and 
vinegar  ;  but  the  country  produced  bananas, 
plantains,  pineapples,  cocoanuts,  and  other  fruit. 
There  was  also  maize  in  abundance,  together 
with  various  roots,  such  as  were  found  in  His- 
paniola. The  rivers  and  seacoast  abounded  with 
fish.  The  natives,  too,  made  beverages  of  vari- 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica. 


ous  kinds.  One  from  the  juice  of  the  pineapple, 
having  a  vinous  flavor  ;  another  from  maize,  re- 
sembling beer  ;  and  another  from  the  fruit  of  a 
species  of  palm-tree.*  There  appeared  to  be  no 
danger,  therefore,  of  suffering  from  famine.  Co- 
lumbus took  pains  to  conciliate  the  good-will  of 
the  Indians,  that  they  might  supply  the  wants  of 
the  colony  during  his  absence,  and  he  made  many 
presents  to  Quibian,  by  way  of  reconciling  him  to 
this  intrusion  into  his  territories.! 

The  necessary  arrangements  being  made  for 
the  colony,  and  a  number  of  the  houses  being 
roofed,  and  sufficiently  finished  for  occupation, 
the  admiral  prepared  for  his  departure,  when 
an  unlooked-for  obstacle  presented  itself.  The 
heavy  rains  which  had  so  long  distressed  him  dur- 
ing this  expedition  had  recently  ceased.  The  tor- 
rents from  the  mountains  were  over,  and  the 
river,  which  had  once  put  him  to  such  peril  by  its 
sudden  swelling,  had  now  become  so  shallow 
that  there  was  not  above  half  a  fathom  water  on 
the  bar.  Though  his  vessels  were  small,  it  was 
impossible  to  draw  them  over  the  sands,  which 
choked  the  mouth  of  the  river,  for  there  was  a 
swell  rolling  and  tumbling  upon  them,  enough  to 
dash  his  worm-eaten  barks  to  pieces.  He  was 
obliged,  therefore,  to  wait  with  patience,  and  pray 
for  the  return  of  those  rains  which  he  had  lately 
deplored. 

In  the  mean  time  Quibian  beheld,  with  secret 
jealousy  and  indignation,  these  strangers  erecting 
habitations  and  manifesting  an  intention  of  estab- 
lishing themselves  in  his  territories.  He  was  of  a 
bold  and  warlike  spirit,  and  had  a  great  force  of 
warriors  at  his  command  ;  and  being  ignorant  of 
the  vast  superiority  of  the  Europeans  in  the  art  of 
war,  thought  it  easy,  by  a  well-concerted  artifice, 
to  overwhelm  and  destroy  them.  He  sent  mes- 
sengers round,  and  ordered  all  his  fighting  men 
to  assemble  at  his  residence  on  the  river  Veragua, 
under  pretext  of  making  war  upon  a  neighboring 
province.  Numbers  of  the  warriors,  in  repairing 
to  his  head-quarters,  passed  by  the  harbor.  No 
suspicions  of  their  real  design  were  entertained 
by  Columbus  or  his  officers  ;  but  their  movements 
attracted  the  attention  of  the  chief  notary,  Diego 
Mendez,  a  man  of  a  shrewd  and  prying  character, 
and  zealously  devoted  to  the  admiral.  Doubting 
some  treachery,  he  communicated  his  surmises  to 
Columbus,  and  offered  to  coast  along  in  an  armed 
boat  to  the  river  Veragua,  and  reconnoitre  the 
Indian  camp.  His  offer  was  accepted,  and  he 
sallied  from  the  river  accordingly,  but  had 
scarcely  advanced  a  league  when  he  descried  a 
large  force  of  Indians  on  the  shore.  Landing 
alone,  and  ordering  that  the  boat  should  be  kept 
afloat,  he  entered  among  them.  There  were 
about  a  thousand,  armed  and  supplied  with  pro- 
visions, as  if  for  an  expedition.  He  offered  to  ac- 
company them  with  his  armed  boat ;  his  offer  was 
declined,  with  evident  signs  of  impatience.  Re- 
turning to  his  boat,  he  kept  watch  upon  them  all 
night,  until  seeing  they  were  vigilantly  observed, 
they  returned  to  Veragua. 

Mendez  hastened  back  to  the  admiral,  and  gave 
it  as  his  opinion  that  the  Indians  had  been  on 
their  way  to  surprise  the  Spaniards.  The  admiral 
was  loath  to  believe  in  such  treachery-,  and  was 
desirous  of  obtaining  clearer  information,  before 
he  took  any  step  that  might  interrupt  the  appar- 
ently good  understanding  that  existed  with  the 
natives.  Mendez  now  undertook,  with  a  single 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  96. 
f  Letter  from  Jamaica. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS: 


197 


companion,  to  penetrate  by  land  to  the  head-quar- 
ters of  Quibian,  and  endeavor  to  ascertain  his  in- 
tentions. Accompanied  by  one  Rodrigo  de  Esco- 
bar, he  proceeded  on  foot  along  the  seaboard,  to 
avoid  the  tangled  forests,  and  arriving  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Veragua,  found  two  canoes  with  In- 
dians, whom  he  prevailed  on,  by  presents,  to  con- 
vey him  and  his  companion  to  the  village  of  the 
cacique.  It  was  on  the  bank  of  the  river  ;  the 
houses  were  detached  and  interspersed  among 
trees.  There  was  a  bustle  of  warlike  preparation 
in  the  place,  and  the  arrival  of  the  two  Spaniards 
evidently  excited  surprise  and  uneasiness.  The 
residence  of  the  cacique  was  larger  than  the 
others,  and  situated  on  a  hill  which  rose  from  the 
water's  edge.  Quibian  was  confined  to  the  house 
by  indisposition,  having  been  wounded  in  the  leg 
by  an  arrow.  Mendez  gave  himself  out  as  a  sur- 
geon come  to  cure  the  wound  :  with  great  diffi- 
culty and  by  force  of  presents  he  obtained  permis- 
sion to  proceed.  On  the  crest  of  the  hill  and  in 
front  of  the  cacique's  dwelling  was  a  broad, 
level,  open  place,  round  which,  on  posts,  were  the 
heads  of  three  hundred  enemies  slain  in  battle. 
Undismayed  by  this  dismal  array,  Mendez  and  his 
companion  crossed  the  place  toward  the  den  of 
this  grim  warrior.  A  number  of  women  and 
children  about  the  door  fled  into  the  house  with 
piercing  cries.  A  young  and  powerful  Indian, 
son  of  the  cacique,  sallied  forth  in  a  violent  rage, 
and  struck  Mendez  a  blow  which  made  him  recoil 
several  paces.  The  latter  pacified  him  by  pres- 
ents and  assurances  that  he  came  to  cure  his 
father's  wound,  in  proof  of  which  he  produced  a 
box  of  ointment.  It  was  impossible,  however,  to 
gain  access  to  the  cacique,  and  Mendez  returned 
with  all  haste  to  the  harbor  to  report  to  the  ad- 
miral what  he  had  seen  and  learned.  It  was  evi- 
dent there  was  a  dangerous  plot  impending  over 
the  Spaniards,  and  as  far  as  Mendez  could  learn 
from  the  Indians  who  had  taken  him  up  the  river 
in  their  canoe,  the  body  of  a  thousand  warriors 
which  he  had  seen  on  his  previous  reconnoitering 
expedition  had  actually  been  on  a  hostile  enter- 
prise against  the  harbor,  but  had  given  it  up  on 
rinding  themselves  observed. 

This  information  was  confirmed  by  an  Indian  of 
the  neighborhood,  who  had  become  attached  to 
the  Spaniards  and  acted  as  interpreter.  He  re- 
vealed to  the  admiral  the  designs  of  his  country- 
men, which  he  had  overheard.  Quibian  intended 
to  surprise  the  harbor  at  night  with  a  great  force, 
burn  the  ships  and  houses,  and  make  a  general 
massacre.  Thus  forewarned,  Columbus  immedi- 
ately set  a  double  watch  upon  the  harbor.  The 
military  spirit  of  the  Adelantado  suggested  a 
bolder  expedient.  The  hostile  plan  of  Quibian  was 
doubtless  delayed  by  his  wound,  and  in  the  mean 
time  he  would  maintain  the  semblance  of  friend- 
ship. The  Adelantado  determined  to  march  at 
once  to  his  residence,  capture  him,  his  family,  and 
principal  warriors,  send  them  prisoners  to  Spain, 
and  take  possession  of  his  village. 

With  the  Adelantado,  to  conceive  a  plan  was  to 
carry  it  into  immediate  execution,  and,  in  fact, 
the  impending  danger  admitted  of  no  delay. 
Taking  with  him  seventy-four  men,  well  armed, 
among  whom  was  Diego  Mendez,  and  being  ac- 
companied by  the  Indian  interpreter  who  had  re- 
vealed the  plot,  he  set  off  on  the  3oth  of  March, 
in  boats,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Veragua,  ascended 
it  rapidly,  and  before  the  Indians  could  have  no- 
tice of  his  movements,  landed  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  on  which  the  house  of  Quibian  was  situated. 

Lest  the  cacique  should  take  alarm  and  fly  at , 


the  sight  of  a  large  force,  he  ascended  the  hill,  ac- 
companied by  only  five  men,  among  whom  was 
Diego  Mendez  ;  ordering  the  rest  to  come  on,  with 
great  caution  and  secrecy,  two  at  a  time,  and  at 
a  distance  from  each  other.  On  the  discharge  of 
an  arquebuse,  they  were  to  surround  the  dwelling 
and  suffer  no  one  to  escape. 

As  the  Adelantado  drew  near  to  the  house, 
Quibian  came  forth,  and  seating  himself  in  the 
portal,  desired  the  Adelantado  to  approach  singly. 
Don  Bartholomew  now  ordered  Diego  Mendez  and 
his  four  companions  to  remain  at  a  little  distance, 
and  when  they  should  see  him  take  the  cacique  by 
the  arm,  to  rush  immediately  to  his  assistance.  He 
then  advanced  with  his  Indian  interpreter,  through 
whom  a  short  conversation  took  place,  relative  to 
the  surrounding  country.  The  Adelantado  then 
adverted  to  the  wound  of  the  cacique,  and  pre- 
tending to  examine  it,  took  him  by  the  arm.  At 
the  concerted  signal  four  of  the  Spaniards  rushed 
forward,  the  fifth  discharged  the  arquebuse.  The 
cacique  attempted  to  get  loose,  but  was  firmly 
held  in  the  iron  grasp  of  the  Adelantado.  Being 
both  men  of  great  muscular  power,  a  violent 
struggle  ensued.  Don  Bartholomew,  however, 
maintained  the  mastery,  and  Diego  Mendez  and 
his  companions  coming  to  his  assistance,  Quibian 
was  bound  hand  and  foot.  At  the  report  of  the 
arquebuse,  the  main  body  of  the  Spaniards  sur- 
rounded the  house,  and  seized  most  of  those  who 
were  within,  consisting  of  fifty  persons,  old  and 
young.  Among  these  were  the  wives  and  chil- 
dren of  Quibian,  and  several  of  his  principal  sub- 
jects. No  one  was  wounded,  for  there  was  no 
resistance,  and  the  Adelantado  never  permitted 
wanton  bloodshed.  When  the  poor  savages  saw 
their  prince  a  captive,  they  filled  the  air  with 
lamentations,  imploring  his  release,  and  offering 
for  his  ransom  a  great  treasure,  which  they  said 
lay  concealed  in  a  neighboring  forest. 

The  Adelantado  was  deaf  to  their  supplications 
and  their  offers.  Quibian  was  too  dangerous  a 
foe  to  be  set  at  liberty  ;  as  a  prisoner  he  would 
be  a  hostage  for  the  security  of  the  settlement. 
Anxious  to  secure  his  prize,  he  determined  to  send 
the  cacique  and  other  prisoners  on  board  of  the 
boats,  while  he  remained  on  shore  with  a  part  of 
his  men  to  pursue  the  Indians  who  had  escaped. 
Juan  Sanchez,  the  principal  pilot  of  the  squadron, 
a  powerful  and  spirited  man,  volunteered  to  take 
charge  of  the  captives.  On  committing  the  chief- 
tain to  his  care,  the  Adelantado  warned  him  to  be 
on  his  guard  against  any  attempt  at  rescue  or  es- 
cape. The  sturdy  pilot  replied  that  if  the  cacique 
got  out  of  his  hands,  he  would  give  them  leave  to 
pluck  out  his  beard,  hair  by  hair  ;  with  this  vaunt 
he  departed,  bearing  off  Quibian  bound  hand  and 
foot.  On  arriving  at  the  boat,  he  secured  him  by 
a  strong  cord  to  one  of  the  benches.  It  was  a 
dark  night.  As  the  boat  proceeded  down  the 
river,  the  cacique  complained  piteously  of  the 
painfulness  of  his  bonds.  The  rough  heart  of  the 
pilot  was  touched  \vith  compassion,  and  he 
loosened  the  cord  by  which  Quibian  was  tied  to 
the  bench,  keeping  the  end  of  it  in  his  hand.  The 
wily  Indian  watched  his  opportunity,  and  when 
Sanchez  was  looking  another  way  plunged  into 
the  water  and  disappeared.  So  sudden  and  vio- 
lent was  his  plunge  that  the  pilot  had  to  let  go 
the  cord  lest  he  should  be  drawn  in  after  him. 
The  darkness  of  the  night  and  the  bustle  which 
took  place  in  preventing  the  escape  of  the  other 
prisoners  rendered  it  impossible  to  pursue  the  ca- 
cique, or  even  to  ascertain  his  fate.  Juan  Sanches 
hastened  to  the  ships  with  the  residue  of  the  cap. 


198 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


lives,  deeply  mortified  at  being  thus  outwitted  by 
a  savage. 

The  Adelantado  remained  all  night  on  shore. 
The  following  morning,  when  he  beheld  the  wild, 
broken,  and  mountainous  nature  of  the  country, 
and  the  scattered  situation  of  the  habitations 
perched  on  different  heights,  he  gave  up  the  search 
after  the  Indians,  and  returned  to  the  ships  with 
the  spoils  of  the  cacique's  mansion.  These  con- 
sisted of  bracelets,  anklets,  and  massive  plates  of 
gold,  such  as  were  worn  round  the  neck,  together 
with  two  golden  coronets.  The  whole  amounted 
to  the  value  of  three  hundred  ducats.*  One  fifth 
of  the  booty  was  set  apart  for  the  crown.  The 
residue  was  shared  among  those  concerned  in  the 
enterprise.  To  the  Adelantado  one  of  the  coro- 
nets was  assigned,  as  a  trophy  of  his  exploit. t 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DISASTERS    OF  THE  SETTLEMENT. 

['SOS-] 

IT  was  hoped  by  Columbus  that  the  vigorous 
measure  of  the  Adelantado  would  strike  terror 
into  the  Indians  of  the  neighborhood,  and  prevent 
any  further  designs  upon  the  settlement.  Quibian 
had  probably  perished.  If  he  survived,  he  must 
be  disheartened  by  the  captivity  of  his  family,  and 
several  of  his  principal  subjects,  and  fearful  of 
their  being  made  responsible  for  any  act  of  vio- 
lence on  his  part.  The  heavy  rains,  therefore, 
which  fall  so  frequently  among  the  mountains  of 
this  isthmus,  having  again  swelled  the  river,  Co- 
lumbus made  his  final  arrangements  for  the  man- 
agement of  the  colony,  and  having  given  much 
wholesome  counsel  to  the  Spaniards  who  were  to 
remain,  and  taken  an  affectionate  leave  of  his 
brother,  got  under  weigh  with  three  of  the  cara- 
vels, leaving  the  fourth  for  the  use  of  the  settle- 
ment. As  the  water  was  still  shallow  at  the  bar, 
the  ships  were  lightened  of  a  great  part  of  their 
cargoes,  and  towed  out  by  the  boats  in  calm 
weather,  grounding  repeatedly.  When  fairly  re- 
leased from  the  river,  and  their  cargoes  reship- 
ped,  they  anchored  within  a  league  of  the  shore, 
to  await  a  favorable  wind.  It  was  the  intention 
of  the  admiral  to  touch  at  Hispaniola,  on  his  way 
to  Spain,  and  send  thence  supplies  and  reinforce- 
ments. The  wind  continuing  adverse,  he  sent  a 
boat  on  shore  on  the  6th  of  April,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Diego  Tristan,  captain  of  one  of  the  car- 
avels, to  procure  wood  and  water,  and  make 
some  communications  to  the  Adelantado.  The 
expedition  of  this  boat  proved  fatal  to  its  crew, 
but  was  providential  to  the  settlement. 

The  cacique  Quibian  had  not  perished  as  some 
had  supposed.  Though  both  hands  and  feet  were 
bound,  yet  in  the  water  he  was  as  in  his  natural 

*  Equivalent  to  one  thousand  two  hundred  and 
eighty-one  dollars  at  the  present  day. 

\  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  98.  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  27.  Many  of  the  particulars  of  this  chapter  are 
from  a  short  narrative  given  by  Diego  Mendez,  and 
inserted  in  his  last  will  and  testament.  It  is  written  in 
a  strain  of  simple  egotism,  as  he  represents  himself  as 
the  principal  and  almost  the  sole  actor  in  every  affair. 
The  facts,  however,  have  all  the  air  of  veracity,  and 
being  given  on  such  a  solemn  occasion,  the  document 
is  entitled  to  high  credit.  He  will  be  found  to  distin- 
guish himself  on  another  hazardous  and  important  oc- 
casion in  the  course  of  this  history. — Vide  Navarrete, 
Colec.,  torn.  i. 


element.  Plunging  to  the  bottom,  he  swam  be- 
low the  surface  until  sufficiently  distant  to  be  out 
of  view  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  then 
emerging  made  his  way  to  shore.  The  desolation 
of  his  home,  and  the  capture  of  his  wives  and 
children  filled  him  with  anguish  ;  but  when  he 
saw  the  vessels  in  which  they  were  confined  leav- 
ing the  river,  and  bearing  them  off,  he  was  trans- 
ported with  fury  and  despair.  Determined  on  a 
signal  vengeance,  he  assembled  a  great  number 
of  his  warriors,  and  came  secretly  upon  the  settle- 
ment. The  thick  woods  by  which  it  was  sur- 
rounded enabled  the  Indians  to  approach  unseen 
within  ten  paces.  The  Spaniards,  thinking  the 
enemy  completely  discomfited  and  dispersed,  were 
perfectly  off  their  guard.  Some  had  strayed  to 
the  sea-shore  to  take  a  farewell  look  at  the  ships  ; 
some  were  on  board  of  the  caravel  in  the  river  ; 
others  were  scattered  about  the  houses  ;  on  a 
sudden  the  Indians  rushed  from  their  conceal- 
ment with  yells  and  howlings,  launched  their 
javelins  through  the  roofs  of  palm-leaves,  hurled 
them  in  at  the  windows,  or  thrust  them  through 
the  crevices  of  the  logs  which  composed  the  walls. 
As  the  houses  were  small  several  of  the  inhabi- 
tants were  wounded.  On  the  first  alarm  the  Ad- 
elantado seized  a  lance  and  sallied  forth  with 
seven  or  eight  of  his  men.  He  was  joined  by  Die- 
go Mendez  and  several  of  his  companions,  and 
they  drove  the  enemy  into  the  forest,  killing  and 
wounding  several  of  them.  The  Indians  kept  up 
a  brisk  fire  of  darts  and  arrows  from  among  the 
trees,  and  made  furious  sallies  with  their  war- 
clubs  ;  but  there  was  no  withstanding  the  keen 
edge  of  the  Spanish  weapons,  and  a  fierce  blood- 
hound being  let  loose  upon  them  completed  their 
terror.  They  fled  howling  through  the  forest, 
leaving  a  number  dead  on  the  field,  having  killed 
one  Spaniard  and  wounded  eight.  Among  the 
latter  was  the  Adelantado,  who  received  a  slight 
thrust  of  a  javelin  in  the  breast. 

Diego  Tristan  arrived  in  his  boat  during  the 
contest,  but  feared  to  approach  the  land,  lest  the 
Spaniards  should  rush  on  board  in  such  numbers 
as  to  sink  him.  When  the  Indians  had  been  put  to 
flight  he  proceeded  up  the  river  in  quest  of  fresh 
water,  disregarding  the  warnings  of  those  on  shore, 
that  he  might  be  cut  off  by  the  enemy  in  their 
canoes. 

The  river  was  deep  and  narrow,  shut  in  by  high 
banks  and  overhanging  trees.  The  forests  on 
each  side  were  thick  and  impenetrable,  so  that 
there  was  no  landing-place  excepting  here  and 
there  where  a  footpath  wound  down  to  some  fish- 
ing-ground, or  some  place  where  the  natives  kept 
their  canoes. 

The  boat  had  ascended  about  a  league  above  the 
village,  to  a  part  of  the  river  where  it  was  com- 
pletely overshadowed  by  lofty  banks  and  spread- 
ing trees.  Suddenly  yells  and  war-whoops  and 
blasts  of  conch-shells  rose  on  every  side.  Light 
canoes  darted  forth  in  every  direction  from  dark 
hollows  and  overhanging  thickets  each  dextrous- 
ly  managed  by  a  single  savage,  while  others  stood 
up  brandishing  and  hurling  their  lances.  Missiles 
were  launched  also  from  the  banks  of  the  river 
and  the  branches  of  the  trees.  There  were  eight 
sailors  in  the  boat,  and  three  soldiers.  Galled 
and  wounded  by  darts  and  arrows,  confounded 
by  the  yells  and  blasts  of  conchs  and  the  assaults 
which  thickened  from  every  side,  they  lost  all 
presence  of  mind,  neglected  to  use  either  oars  or 
firearms,  and  only  sought  to  shelter  themselves 
with  their  bucklers.  Diego  Tristan  had  received 
several  wounds,  but  still  displayed  great  intre- 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


199 


pidity,  and  was  endeavoring  to  animate  his  men 
when  a  javelin  pierced  his  right  eye  and  struck 
him  dead.  The  canoes  now  closed  upon  the  boat, 
and  a  general  massacre  ensued.  But  one  Spaniard 
escaped,  Juan  de  Noya,  a  cooper  of  Seville.  Having 
fallen  overboard  in  the  midst  of  the  action,  he 
dived  to  the  bottom,  swam  under  water,  gained 
the  bank  of  the  river  unperceived,  and  made  his 
way  down  to  the  settlement,  bringing  tidings  of 
the  massacre  of  his  captain  and  comrades. 

The  Spaniards  were  completely  dismayed,  were 
few  in  number,  several  of  them  were  wounded, 
and  they  were  in  the  midst  of  tribes  of  exasperated 
savages,  far  more  fierce  and  warlike  than  those  to 
whom  they  had  been  accustomed.  The  admiral, 
being  ignorant  of  their  misfortunes,  would  sail 
away  without  yielding  them  assistance,  and  they 
would  be  left  to  sink  beneath  the  overwhelming 
force  of  barbarous  foes,  or  to  perish  with  hunger 
on  this  inhospitable  coast.  In  their  despair  they 
determined  to  take  the  caravel  which  had  been 
left  with  them,  and  abandon  the  place  altogether. 
The  Adelantado  remonstrated  with  them  in  vain  ; 
nothing  would  content  them  but  to  put  to  sea  im- 
mediately. Here  a  new  alarm  awaited  them. 
The  torrents  having  subsided,  the  river  was  again 
shallow,  and  it  was  impossible  for  the  caravel  to 
pass  over  the  bar.  They  now  took  the  boat  of 
the  caravel  to  bear  tidings  of  their  danger  to  the 
admiral,  and  implore  him  not  to  abandon  them  ; 
but  the  wind  was  boisterous,  a  high  sea  was  roll- 
ing, and  a  heavy  surf,  tumbling  and  breaking  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river,  prevented  the  boat  from 
getting  out.  Horrors  increased  upon  them.  The 
mangled  bodies  of  Diego  Tristan  and  his  men 
came  floating  down  the  stream,  and  drifting 
about  the  harbor,  with  flights  of  crows,  and  other 
carrion  birds,  feeding  on  them,  and  hovering,  and 
screaming,  and  fighting  about  their  prey.  The 
forlorn  Spaniards  contemplated  this  scene  with 
shuddering  ;  it  appeared  ominous  of  their  own 
fate. 

In  the  mean  time  the  Indians,  elated  by  their  tri- 
umph over  the  crew  of  the  boat,  renewed  their 
hostilities.  Whoops  and  yells  answered  each 
other  from  various  parts  of  the  neighborhood. 
The  dismal  sound  of  conchs  and  war-drums  in  the 
deep  bosom  of  the  woods  showed  that  the  number 
of  the  enemy  was  continually  augmenting.  They 
would  rush  forth  occasionally  upon  straggling 
parties  of  Spaniards,  and  make  partial  attacks  upon 
the  houses.  It  was  considered  no  longer  safe  to 
remain  in  the  settlement,  the  close  forest  which 
surrounded  it  being  a  covert  for  the  approaches  of 
the  enemy.  The  Adelantado  chose,  therefore,  an 
open  place  on  the  shore,  at  some  distance  from  the 
wood.  Here  he  caused  a  kind  of  bulwark  to  be 
made  of  the  boat  of  the  caravel,  and  of  chests, 
casks,  and  similar  articles.  Two  places  were  left 
open  as  embrasures,  in  which  were  placed  a 
couple  of  falconets,  or  small  pieces  of  artillery,  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  command  the  neighborhood. 
In  this  little  fortress  the  Spaniards  shut  them- 
selves up  ;  its  walls  were  sufficient  to  screen  them 
from  the  darts  and  arrows  of  the  Indians,  but 
mostly  they  depended  upon  their  firearms,  the 
sound  of  which  struck  dismay  into  the  savages, 
especially  when  they  saw  the  effect  of  the  balls, 
splintering  and  rending  the  trees  around  them, 
and  carrying  havoc  to  such  a  distance.  The  In- 
dians were  thus  kept  in  check  for  the  present,  and 
deterred  from  venturing  from  the  forest  ;  but  the 
Spaniards,  exhausted  by  constant  watching  and 
incessant  alarms,  anticipated  all  kinds  of  evil 
when  their  ammunition  should  be  exhausted,  or 


they  should  be  driven  forth  by  hunger  to  seek  for 
food.* 


CHAPTER    IX. 

DISTRESS    OF    THE    ADMIRAL   ON  BOARD   OF    HIS 
SHIP — ULTIMATE  RELIEF  OF  THE  SETTLEMENT. 

['SOS-] 

WHILE  the  Adelantado  and  his  men  were  ex- 
posed to  such  imminent  peril  on  shore,  great  anx- 
iety prevailed  on  board  of  the  ships.  Day  after 
day  elapsed  without  the  return  of  Diego  Tristan 
and  his  party,  and  it  was  feared  some  disaster  had 
befallen  them.  Columbus  would  have  sent  on 
shore  to  make  inquiries,  but  there  was  only  one 
boat  remaining  for  the  service  of  the  squadron, 
and  he  dared  not  risk  it  in  the  rough  sea  and 
heavy  surf.  A  dismal  circumstance  occurred  to 
increase  the  gloom  and  uneasiness  of  the  crews. 
On  board  of  one  of  the  caravels  were  confined  the 
family  and  household  of  the  cacique  Quibian.  It 
was  the  intention  of  Columbus  to  carry  them  to 
Spain,  trusting  that  as  long  as  they  remained  in 
the  power  of  the  Spaniards  their  tribe  would  be 
deterred  from  further  hostilities.  They  were  shut 
up  at  night  in  the  forecastle  of  the  caravel,  the 
hatchway  of  which  was  secured  by  a  strong  chain 
and  padlock.  As  several  of  the  crew  slept  upon 
the  hatch,  and  it  was  so  high  as  to  be  considered 
out  of  reach  of  the  prisoners,  they  neglected  to 
fasten  the  chain.  The  Indians  discovered  their 
negligence.  Collecting  a  quantity  of  stones  from 
the  ballast  of  the  vessel,  they  made  a  great  heap 
directly  under  the  hatchway.  Several  of  the  most 
powerful  warriors  mounted  upon  the  top,  and 
bending  their  backs,  by  a  sudden  and  simultane- 
ous effort,  forced  up  the  hatch,  flinging  the  sea- 
men who  slept  upon  it  to  the  opposite  side  of  the 
ship.  In  an  instant  the  greater  part  of  the  Indians 
sprang  forth,  plunged  into  the  sea,  and  swam  for 
shore.  Several,  however,  were  prevented  from 
sallying  forth  ;  others  were  seized  on  the  deck  and 
forced  back  into  the  forecastle  ;  the  hatchway- 
was  carefully  chained  down,  and  a  guard  was  set 
for  the  rest  of  the  night.  In  the  morning,  when 
the  Spaniards  went  to  examine  the  captives,  they 
were  all  found  dead.  Some  had  hanged  them- 
selves with  the  ends  of  ropes,  their  knees  touch- 
ing the  floor  ;  others  had  strangled  themselves  by 
straining  the  cords  tight  with  their  feet.  Such 
was  the  fierce,  unconquerable  spirit  of  these  peo- 
ple, and  their  horror  of  the  white  men.f 

The  escape  of  the  prisoners  occasioned  great 
anxiety  to  the  admiral,  fearing  they  would  stimu- 
late their  countrymen  to  some  violent  act  of  ven- 
geance, and  he  trembled  for  the  safety  of  his 
brother.  Still  this  painful  mystery  reigned  over 
the  land.  The  boat  of  Diego  Tristan  did  not  re- 
turn, and  the  raging  surf  prevented  all  communi- 
cation. At  length,  one  Pedro  Ledesma,  a  pilot  of 
Seville,  a  man  of  about  forty-five  years  of  age, 
and  of  great  strength  of  body  and  mind,  offered, 
if  the  boat  would  take  him  to  the  edge  of  the 
surf,  to  swim  to  shore,  and  bring  off  news.  He 
had  been  piqued  by  the  achievement  of  the  Indian 
captives,  in  swimming  to  land  at  a  league's  dis- 
tance, in  defiance  of  sea  and  surf.  "  Surely,"  he 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  98.  Las  Casas,  lib.  u. 
Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica.  Relation  of  Di- 
ego Mendez,  Navarrete,  torn.  i.  Journal  of  Porras, 
Navarrete.  torn.  i. 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  99. 


200 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


said,  "if  they  dare  venture  so  much  to  procure 
their  individual  liberties,  I  ought  to  brave  at 
least  a  part  of  the  danger,  to  save  the  lives  of  so 
many  companions."  His  offer  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted by  the  admiral,  and  was  boldly  accom- 
plished. The  boat  approached  with  him  as  near 
to  the  surf  as  safety  would  permit,  where  it  was 
to  await  his  return.  Here,  stripping  himself,  he 
plunged  into  the  sea,  and  after  buffeting  for  some 
time  with  the  breakers,  sometimes  rising  upon 
their  surges,  sometimes  buried  beneath  them  and 
dashed  upon  the  sand,  he  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  shore. 

He  found  his  countrymen  shut  up  in  their  for- 
lorn fortress,  beleaguered  by  savage  foes,  and 
learnt  the  tragical  fate  of  Diego  Tristan  and  his 
companions.  Many  of  the  Spaniards,  in  their 
horror  and  despair,  had  thrown  off  all  subordina- 
tion, refused  to  assist  in  any  measure  that  had  in 
view  a  continuance  in  this  place,  and  thought  of 
nothing  but  escape.  When  they  beheld  Ledesma, 
a  messenger  from  the  ships,  they  surrounded  him 
with  frantic  eagerness,  urging  him  to  implore  the 
admiral  to  take  them  on  board,  and  not  aban- 
don them  on  a  coast  where  their  destruction  was 
inevitable.  They  were  preparing  canoes  to  take 
them  to  the  ships,  when  the  weather  should  mod- 
erate, the  boat  of  the  caravel  being  too  small, 
and  swore  that,  if  the  admiral  refused  to  take  them 
on  board,  they  would  embark  in  the  caravel,  as 
soon  as  it  could  be  extricated  from  the  river,  and 
abandon  themselves  to  the  mercy  of  the  seas, 
rather  than  remain  upon  that  fatal  coast. 

Having  heard  all  that  his  forlorn  countrymen 
had  to  say,  and  communicated  with  the  Adelan- 
tado  and  his  officers,  Ledesma  set  out  on  his  per- 
ilous return.  He  again  braved  the  surf  and  the 
breakers,  reached  the  boat  which  was  waiting  for 
him,  and  was  conveyed  back  to  the  ships.  The 
disastrous  tidings  from  the  land  filled  the  heart  of 
the  admiral  with  grief  and  alarm.  To  leave  his 
brother  on  shore  would  be  to  expose  him  to  the 
mutiny  of  his  own  men  and  the  lerocity  of  the 
savages.  He  could  spare  no  reinforcement  from 
his  ships,  the  crews  being  so  much  weakened  by 
the  loss  of  Tristan  and  his  companions.  Rather 
than  the  settlement  should  be  broken  up,  he 
would  gladly  have  joined  the  Adelantado  with  all 
his  people  ;  but  in  such  case  how  could  intelli- 
gence be  conveyed  to  the  sovereigns  of  this  im- 
portant discovery,  and  how  could  supplies  be  ob- 
tained from  Spain  ?  There  appeared  no  alterna- 
tive, therefore,  but  to  embark  all  the  people, 
abandon  the  settlement  for  the  present,  and  re- 
turn at  some  future  day,  with  a  force  competent 
to  take  secure  possession  of  the  country.*  The 
state  of  the  weather  rendered  the  practicability 
even  of  this  plan  doubtful.  The  wind  continued 
high,  the  sea  rough,  and  no  boat  could  pass  be- 
tween the  squadron  and  the  land.  The  situation 
of  the  ships  was  itself  a  matter  of  extreme  solici- 
tude. Feebly  manned,  crazed  by  storms,  and 
ready  to  fall  to  pieces  from  the  ravages  of  the  te- 
redo, they  were  anchored  on  a  lee  shore,  with  a 
boisterous  wind  and  sea,  in  a  climate  subject  to 
tempests,  and  where  the  least  augmentation  of  the 
weather  might  drive  them  among  the  breakers. 
Every  hour  increased  the  anxiety  of  Columbus  for 
his  brother,  his  people,  and  his  ships,  and  each 
hour  appeared  to  render  the  impending  dangers 
more  imminent.  Days  of  constant  perturbation 
and  nights  of  sleepless  anxiety  preyed  upon  a 
constitution  broken  by  age,  by  maladies,  and 


Letter  of  Columbus  from  Jamaica. 


hardships,  and  produced  a  fever  of  the  mind,  in 
which  he  was  visited  by  one  of  those  mental  hal- 
lucinations deemed  by  him  mysterious  and  super- 
natural. In  a  letter  to  the  sovereigns  he  gives  a 
solemn  account  of  a  kind  of  vision  by  which  he 
was  comforted  in  a  dismal  night,  when  full  of 
despondency  and  tossing  on  a  couch  of  pain  : 

"  Wearied  and  sighing,"  says  he,  "  I  fell  into  a 
slumber, when  I  heard  a  piteous  voice  saying  to  me, 
'  O  fool,  and  slow  to  believe  and  serve  thy  God,  who 
is  the  God  of  all  !  What  did  he  more  for  Moses,  or 
for  his  servant  David,  than  he  has  done  for  thee  ? 
From  the  time  of  thy  birth  he  has  ever  had  thee 
under  his  peculiar  care.  When  he  saw  thee  of  a 
fitting  age  he  made  thy  name  to  resound  marvel- 
lously throughout  the  earth,  and  thou  wert 
obeyed  in  many  lands,  and  didst  acquire  honor- 
able fame  among  Christians.  Of  the  gates  of  the 
Ocean  Sea,  shut  up  with  such  mighty  chains,  he 
delivered  thee  the  keys  ;  the  Indies,  those 
wealthy  regions  of  the  world,  he  gave  thee  for 
thine  own,  and  empowered  thee  to  dispose  of  them 
to  others,  according  to  thy  pleasure.  What  did 
he  more  for  the  great  people  of  Israel  when  he  led 
them  forth  from  Egypt  ?  Or  for  David,  whom, 
from  being  a  shepherd,  he  made  a  king  in 
Judea  ?  Turn  to  him,  then,  and  acknowledge 
thine  error  ;  his  mercy  is  infinite.  He  has  many 
and  vast  inheritances  yet  in  reserve.  Fear  not 
to  seek  them.  Thine  age  shall  be  no  impediment 
to  any  great  undertaking.  Abraham  was  above  an 
hundred  years  when  he  begat  Isaac  ;  and  was 
Sarah  youthful  ?  Thou  urgest  despondingly  for 
succor.  Answer  !  who  hath  afflicted  thee  so 
much,  and  so  many  times  ? — God,  or  the  world  ? 
The  privileges  and  promises  which  God  hath  made 
thee  he  hath  never  broken  ;  neither  hath  he  said, 
after  having  received  thy  services,  that  his  mean- 
ing was  different,  and  to  be  understood  in  a  differ- 
ent sense.  He  performs  to  the  very  letter.  He 
fulfils  all  that  he  promises,  and  with  increase. 
Such  is  his  custom.  I  have  shown  thee  what  thy 
Creator  hath  done  for  thee,  and  what  he  cloeth  for 
all.  The  present  is  the  reward  of  the  toils  and 
perils  thou  hast  endured  in  serving  others.'  I 
heard  all  this,"  adds  Columbus,  "  as  one  almost 
dead,  and  had  no  power  to  reply  to  words  so  true, 
excepting  to  weep  for  my  errors.  Whoever  it  was 
that  spake  to  me,  finished  by  saying,  '  Fear  not ! 
Confide  !  All  these  tribulations  are  written  in 
marble,  and  not  without  cause.'  ' 

Such  is  the  singular  statement  which  Columbus 
gave  to  the  sovereigns  of  his  supposed  vision.  It 
has  been  suggested  that  this  was  a  mere  ingenious 
fiction,  adroitly  devised  by  him  to  convey  a  lesson 
to  his  prince  ;  but  such  an  idea  is  inconsistent 
with  his  character.  He  was  too  deeply  imbued 
with  awe  of  the  Deity,  and  with  reverence  for  his 
sovereign,  to  make  use  of  such  an  artifice.  The 
words  here  spoken  to  him  by  the  supposed  voice 
are  truths  which  dwelt  upon  his  mind  and  grieved 
his  spirit  during  his  waking  hours.  It  is  natural 
that  they  should  recur  vividly  and  coherently  in 
his  feverish  dreams  ;  and  in  recalling  and  relat- 
ing a  dream  one  is  unconsciously  apt  to  give  it  a 
little  coherency.  Besides,  Columbus  had  a  sol- 
emn belief  that  he  was  a  peculiar  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  Providence,  which,  together  with  a 
deep  tinge  of  superstition  common  to  the  age, 
made  him  prone  to  mistake  every  striking  dream 
for  a  revelation.  He  is  not  to  be  measured  by  the 
same  standard  with  ordinary  men  in  ordinary 
circumstances.  It  is  difficult  for  the  mind  to  real- 
ize his  situation,  and  to  conceive  the  exaltations 
of  spirit  to  which  he  must  have  been  subjected. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


201 


The  artless  manner  in  which,  in  his  letter  to  the 
sovereigns,  he  mingles  up  the  rhapsodies  and 
dreams  of  his  imagination,  with  simple  facts,  and 
sound  practical  observations,  pouring  them  forth 
with  a  kind  of  scriptural  solemnity  and  poetry  of 
language,  is  one  of  the  most  striking  illustra- 
tions of  a  character  richly  compounded  of  extraor- 
dinary and  apparently  contradictory  elements. 

Immediately  after  this  supposed  vision,  and  after 
a  duration  of  nine  days,  the  boisterous  weather 
subsided,  the  sea  became,  calm,  and  the  communi- 
cation with  the  land  was  restored.  It  was  found 
impossible  to  extricate  the  remaining  caravel 
from  the  river  ;  but  every  exertion  was  made  to 
bring  off  the  people  and  the  property  before  there 
should  be  a  return  of  bad  weather.  In  this,  the 
exertions  of  the  zealous  Diego  Mendez  were  emi- 
nently efficient.  He  had  been  for  some  days  pre- 
paring for  such  an  emergency.  Cutting  up  the 
sails  of  the  caravel,  he  made  great  sacks  to  receive 
the  biscuit.  He  lashed  two  Indian  canoes  together 
with  spars,  so  that  they  could  not  be  overturned 
by  the  waves,  and  made  a  platform  on  them  capa- 
ble of  sustaining  a  great  burden.  This  kind  of 
raft  was  laden  repeatedly  with  the  stores,  arms, 
and  ammunition,  which  had  been  left  on  shore, 
and  with  the  furniture  ot  the  caravel,  which  was 
entirely  dismantled.  When  well  freighted,  it  was 
towed  by  the  boat  to  the  ships.  In  this  way,  by 
constant  and  sleepless  exertions,  in  the  space  of 
two  days,  almost  everything  of  value  was  trans- 
ported on  board  the  squadron,  and  little  else  left 
than  the  hull  of  the  caravel,  stranded,  decayed, 
and  rotting  in  the  river.  Diego  Mendez  superin- 
tended the  whole  embarkation  with  unwearied 
watchfulness  and  activity.  He  and  five  compan- 
ions, were  the  last  to  leave  the  shore,  remaining 
all  night  at  their  perilous  post,  and  embarking  in 
the  morning  with  the  last  cargo  of  effects. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  transports  of  the  Span- 
iards, when  they  found  themselves  once  more  on 
board  of  the  ships,  and  saw  a  space  of  ocean  be- 
tween them  and  those  forests  which  had  lately 
seemed  destined  to  be  their  graves.  The  joy  of 
their  comrades  seemed  little  inferior  to  their  own, 
and  the  perils  and  hardships  which  yet  surround- 
ed them  were  forgotten  for  a  time  in  mutual  con- 
gratulations. The  admiral  was  so  much  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  the  high  services  rendered  by 
Diego  Mendez,  throughout  the  late  time  of  danger 
and  disaster,  that  he  gave  him  the  command  of 
the  caravel,  vacant  by  the  death  of  the  unfortunate 
Diego  Tristan.* 


CHAPTER   X. 

DEPARTURE  FROM  THE  COAST  OF  VERAGUA  — 
ARRIVAL  AT  JAMAICA  —  STRANDING  OF  THE 
SHIPS. 


THE  wind  at  length  becoming  favorable,  Colum- 
bus set  sail,  toward  the  end  of  April,  from  the  dis- 
astrous coast  of  Veragua.  The  wretched  condition 
of  the  ships,  the  enfeebled  state  of  the  crews,  and 
the  scarcity  of  provisions  determined  him  to  make 
the  best  of  his  way  to  Hispaniola,  where  he  might 
refit  his  vessels  and  procure  the  necessary  supplies 
for  the  voyage  to  Eurepe.  To  the  surprise  of  his 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  gg,  100.  Las  Casas, 
lib.  ii.  cap.  29.  Relacion  por  Diego  Mendez.  Letter 
of  Columbus  from  Jamaica.  Journal  of  Porras,  Na- 
varrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i. 


pilot  and  crews,  however,  on  making  sait,  he 
stood  again  along  the  coast  to  the  eastward,  in- 
stead of  steering  north,  which  they  considered  the 
direct  route  to  Hispaniola.  They  fancied  that  he 
intended  to  proceed  immediately  for  Spain,  and 
murmured  loudly  at  the  madness  of  attempting  so 
long  a  voyage,  with  ships  destitute  of  stores  and 
consumed  by  the  worms.  Columbus  and  his 
brother,  however,  had  studied  the  navigation  of 
those  seas  with  a  more  observant  and  experienced 
eye.  They  considered  it  advisable  to  gain  a  con- 
siderable distance  to  the  east,  before  standing 
across  for  Hispaniola,  to  avoid  being  swept  away, 
far  below  their  destined  port,  by  the  strong  cur- 
rents setting  constantly  to  the  west.*  The  ad- 
miral, however,  did  not  impart  his  reasons  to  the 
pilots,  being  anxious  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  his 
routes  as  much  to  himself  as  possible,  seeing  that 
there  were  so  many  advenlurers  crowding  into  the 
field,  and  ready  to  follow  on  his  track.  He  even 
took  from  the  mariners  their  charts.f  and  boasts, 
in  a  letter  to  the  sovereigns,  that  none  of  his  pilots 
would  be  able  to  retrace  the  route  to  and  from 
Veragua,  nor  to  describe  where  it  was  situated. 

Disregarding  the  murmurs  of  his  men,  there- 
fore, he  continued  along  the  coast  eastward  as  far 
as  Puerto  Bello.  Here  he  was  obliged  to  leave 
one  of  the  caravels,  being  so  pierced  by  worms  that 
it  was  impossible  to  keep  her  afloat.  All  the  crews 
were  now  crowded  into  two  caravels,  and  these 
were  little  better  than  mere  wrecks.  The  utmost 
exertions  were  necessary  to  keep  them  free  from 
water  ;  while  the  incessant  labor  of  the  pumps 
bore  hard  on  men  enfeebled  by  scanty  diet  and 
dejected  by  various  hardships.  Continuing  on- 
ward, they  passed  Port  Retrete,  and  a  number  of 
islands  to  which  the  admiral  gave  the  name  of  Las 
Barbas,  now  termed  the  Mulatas,  a  little  beyond 
Point  Bias.  Here  he  supposed  that  he  had  ar- 
rived at  the  province  of  Mangi  in  the  territories  of 
the  Grand  Khan,  described  by  Marco  Polo  as  ad- 
joining to  Cathay.J  He  continued  on  about  ten 
leagues  farther,  until  he  approached  the  entrance 
of  what  is  at  present  called  the  Gulf  of  Darien. 
Here  he  had  a  consultation  with  his  captains  and 
pilots,  who  remonstrated  at  his  persisting  in  this 
struggle  against  contrary  winds  and  currents, 
representing  the  lamentable  plight  of  the  ships 
and  the  infirm  state  of  the  crews. \  Bidding  fare- 
well, therefore,  to  the  main-land,  he  stood  north- 
ward on  the  1st  of  May,  in  quest  of  Hispaniola. 
As  the  wind  was  easterly,  with  a  strong  current 
setting  to  the  west,  he  kept  as  near  the  wind  as 
possible.  So  little  did  his  pilots  kno\y  of  their 
situation,  that  they  supposed  themselves  to  the 
east  of  the  Caribbee  Islands,  whereas  the  admiral 
feared  that,  with  all  his  exertions,  he  should  fall 
to  the  westward  of  Hispaniola. ||  His  apprehen- 
sions proved  to  be  well  founded  ;  for,  on  the  loth 
of  the  month,  he  came  in  sight  of  two  small  low 
islands  to  the  north-west  of  Hispaniola,  to  which, 
from  the  great  quantities  of  tortoises  seen  about 
them,  he  gave  the  name  of  theTortugas  ;  they  are 
now  known  as  the  Caymans.  Passing  wide  of  these, 
and  continuing  directly  north,  he  found  himself, 
on  the  3Oth  of  May,  among  the  cluster  of  islands 
on  the  south  side  of  Cuba,  to  which  he  had  former- 
ly given  the  name  of  the  Queen's  Gardens  ;  hav- 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante.    Letter  from  Jamaica, 
f  Journal  of  Porras.  Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i. 
t  Letter  from  Jamaica. 

§  Testimony  of  Pedro  de  Ledesma.     Pleito  de  los 
Colones. 

\  Letter  from  Jamaica. 


202 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


ing  been  carried  between  eight  and  nine  degrees 
west  of  his  destined  port.  Here  he  cast  anchor 
near  one  of  the  keys,  about  ten  leagues  from  the 
main  island.  His  crews  were  suffering  exces- 
sively through  scanty  provisions  and  great  fatigue  ; 
nothing  was  left  of  the  sea-stores  but  a  little  bis- 
cuit, oil,  and  vinegar  ;  and  they  were  obliged  to 
labor  incessantly  at  the  pumps  to  keep  the  vessels 
afloat.  They  had  scarcely  anchored  at  these 
islands  when  there  came  on,  at  midnight,  a  sud- 
den tempest,  of  such  violence  that,  according  to 
the  strong  expression  of  Columbus,  it  seemed  as 
if  the  world  would  dissolve.*  They  lost  three  of 
their  anchors  almost  immediately,  and  the  caravel 
Bermuda  was  driven  with  such  violence  upon  the 
ship  of  the  admiral  that  the  bow  of  the  one  and 
the  stern  of  the  other  were  greatly  shattered. 
The  sea  running  high,  and  the  wind  being  boister- 
ous, the  vessels  chafed  and  injured  each  other 
dreadfully,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that 
they  were  separated.  One  anchor  only  remained 
to  the  admiral's  ship,  and  this  saved  him  from 
being  driven  upon  the  rocks  ;  but  at  daylight  the 
cable  was  found  nearly  worn  asunder.  Had  the 
darkness  continued  an  hour  longer,  he  could 
scarcely  have  escaped  shipwreck. f 

At  the  end  of  six  days,  the  weather  having 
moderated,  he  resumed  his  course,  standing  east- 
ward for  Hispaniola  ;  "  his  people,"  as  he  says, 
"  dismayed  and  down-hearted  ;  almost  all  his 
anchors  lost,  and  his  vessels  bored  as  full  of  holes 
as  a  honeycomb."  After  struggling  against  con- 
trary winds  and  the  usual  currents  from  the  east, 
he  reached  Cape  Cruz,  and  anchored  at  a  village 
in  the  province  of  Macaca.J  where  he  had  touched 
in  1494,  in  his  voyage  along  the  southern  coast  of 
Cuba.  Here  he  was  detained  by  head  winds  for 
several  days,  during  which  he  was  supplied  with 
cassava  bread  by  the  natives.  Making  sail  again, 
he  endeavored  to  beat  up  to  Hispaniola  ;  but  every 


effort  was  in  vain.  The  winds  and  currents  con- 
tinued adverse  ;  the  leaks  continually  gained  upon 
his  vessels,  though  the  pumps  were  kept  inces- 
santly going,  and  the  seamen  even  bailed  the  water 
out  with  buckets  and  kettles.  The  admiral  now 
stood,  in  despair,  for  the  island  of  Jamaica,  to  seek 
some  secure  port  ;  for  there  was  imminent  danger 
of  foundering  at  sea.  On  the  eve  of  St.  John,  the 
23d  of  June,  they  put  into  Puerto  Bueno,  now 
called  Dry  Harbor,  but  met  with  none  of  the  na- 
tives from  whom  they  could  obtain  provisions,  nor 
was  there  any  fresh  water  to  be  had  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Suffering  from  hunger  and  thirst,  they 
sailed  eastward,  on  the  following  day,  to  another 
harbor,  to  which  the  admiral  on  his  first  visit  to 
the  island  haJ  given  the  name  of  Port  Santa 
Gloria. 

Here,  at  last,  Columbus  had  to  give  up  his  long 
and  arduous  struggle  against  the  unremitting  per- 
secution of  the  elements.  His  ships,  reduced  to 
mere  wrecks,  could  no  longer  keep  the  sea,  and 
were  ready  to  sink  even  in  port.  He  ordered 
them,  therefore,  to  be  run  aground,  within  a  bow- 
shot of  the  shore,  and  fastened  together,  side  by 
side.  They  soon  filled  with  water  to  the  decks. 
Thatched  cabins  were  then  erected  at  the  prow 
and  stern  for  the  accommodation  of  the  crews, 
and  the  wreck  was  placed  in  the  best  possible 
state  of  defence.  Thus  castled  in  the  sea,  he 
trusted  to  be  able  to  repel  any  sudden  attack  of 
the  natives,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  his  men 
from  roving  about  the  neighborhood  and  indulg- 
ing in  their  usual  excesses.  No  one  was  allowed 
to  go  on  shore  without  especial  license,  and  the 
utmost  precaution  was  taken  to  prevent  any  offence 
being  given  to  the  Indians.  Any  exasperation  of 
them  might  be  fatal  to  the  Spaniards  in  their  pres- 
ent forlorn  situation.  A  firebrand  thrown  into 
their  wooden  fortress  might  wrap  it  in  flames,  and 
leave  them  defenceless  amid  hostile  thousands. 


BOOK  XVI. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ARRANGEMENT  OF  DIEGO  MENDEZ  WITH  THE 
CACIQUES  FOR  SUPPLIES  OF  PROVISIONS — SENT 
TO  SAN  DOMINGO  BY  COLUMBUS  IN  QUEST  OF 
RELIEF. 

['503.] 

THE  island  of  Jamaica  was  extremely  populous 
and  fertile,  and  the  harbor  soon  swarmed  with 
Indians,  who  brought  provisions  to  barter  with  the 
Spaniards.  To  prevent  any  disputes  in  purchas- 
ing or  sharing  these  supplies,  two  persons  were 
appointed  to  superintend  all  bargains,  and  the 
provisions  thus  obtained  were  divided  every  even- 
ing among  the  people.  This  arrangement  had  a 
happy  effect  in  promoting  a  peaceful  intercourse. 
The  stores  thus  furnished,  however,  coming  from 
a  limited  neighborhood  of  improvident  beings, 
were  not  sufficient  for  the  necessities  of  the  Span- 
iards, and  were  so  irregular  as  often  to  leave  them 
in  pinching  want.  They  feared,  too,  that  the 


*  Letter  from  Jamaica. 

•f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  100.     Letter  of  Colum- 
bus from  Jamaica. 
\  Hist,  del  Almirante.     Journal  of  Porras. 


neighborhood  might  soon  be  exhausted,  in  which 
case  they  should  be  reduced  to  famine.  In  this 
emergency,  Diego  Mendez  stepped  forward  with 
his  accustomed  zeal,  and  volunteered  to  set  off, 
with  three  men,  on  a  foraging  expedition  about 
the  island.  His  offer  being  gladly  accepted  by 
the  admiral,  he  departed  with  his  comrades  well 
armed.  He  was  everywhere  treated  with  the  ut- 
most kindness  by  the  natives.  They  took  him  to 
their  houses,  set  meat  and  drink  before  him  and 
his  companions,  and  performed  all  the  rites  of 
savage  hospitality.  Mendez  made  an  arrange- 
ment with  the  cacique  of  a  numerous  tribe,  that 
his  subjects  should  hunt  and  fish,  and  make  cassa- 
va bread,  and  bring  a  quantity  of  provisions  every 
day  to  the  harbor.  They  were  to  receive  in  ex- 
change knives,  combs,  beads,  fish-hooks,  hawks' 
bells,  and  other  articles,  from  a  Spaniard,  who 
was  to  reside  among  them  for  that  purpose.  The 
agreement  being  made,  Mendez  dispatched  one  of 
his  comrades  to  apprise  the  admiral.  He  then 
pursued  his  journey  three  leagues  farther,  when 
he  made  a  similar  arrangement,  and  dispatched 
another  of  his  companions  to  the  admiral.  Pro- 
ceeding onward,  about  thirteen  leagues  from  the 
ships,  he  arrived  at  the  residence  of  another  ca- 
cique, called  Huarco,  where  he  was  generously 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


203 


entertained.  The  cacique  ordered  his  subjects  to 
bring  a  large  quantity  of  provisions,  for  which 
Mendez  paid  him  on  the  spot,  and  made  arrange- 
ments for  a  like  supply  at  stated  intervals.  He 
dispatched  his  third  companion  with  this  supply 
to  the  admiral,  requesting,  as  usual,  that  an 
agent  might  be  sent  to  receive  and  pay  for  the 
regular  deliveries  of  provisions. 

Mendez  was  now  left  alone,  but  he  was  fond  of 
any  enterprise  that  gave  individual  distinction. 
He  requested  of  the  cacique  two  Indians  to  ac- 
company him  to  the  end  of  the  island  ;  one  to 
carry  his  provisions  and  the  other  to  bear  the 
hammac,  or  cotton  net  in  which  he  slept.  These 
being  granted,  he  pushed  resolutely  forward 
along  the  coast  until  he  reached  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  Jamaica.  Here  he  found  a  powerful 
cacique  of  the  name  of  Ameyro.  Mendez  had 
buoyant  spirits,  great  address,  and  an  ingratiating 
manner  with  the  savages.  He  and  the  cacique 
became  great  friends,  exchanged  names,  which  is 
a  kind  of  token  of  brotherhood,  and  Mendez  en- 
gaged him  to  furnish  provisions  to  the  ships.  He 
then  bought  an  excellent  canoe  of  the  cacique,  for 
which  he  gave  a  splendid  brass  basin,  a  short 
frock  or  cassock,  and  one  of  the  two  shirts  which 
formed  his  stock  of  linen.  The  cacique  furnished 
him  with  six  Indians  to  navigate  his  bark,  and 
they  parted  mutually  well  pleased.  Diego  Mendez 
coasted  his  way  back,  touching  at  the  various 
places  where  he  had  made  his  arrangements.  He 
found  the  Spanish  agents  already  arrived  at  them, 
loaded  his  canoe  with  provisions,  and  returned  in 
triumph  to  the  harbor,  where  he  was  received 
with  acclamations  by  his  comrades,  and  with 
open  arms  by  the  admiral.  The  provisions  he 
brought  were  a  most  seasonable  supply,  for  the 
Spaniards  were  absolutely  fasting  ;  and  thence- 
forward Indians  arrived  daily,  well  laden,  from  the 
marts  which  he  had  established.*  The  immediate 
wants  of  his  people  being  thus  provided  for,  Co- 
lumbus revolved,  in  his  anxious  mind,  the  means 
of  getting  from  this  island.  His  ships  were  be- 
yond the  possibility  of  repair,  and  there  was  no 
hope  of  any  chance  sail  arriving  to  his  relief,  on 
the  shores  of  a  savage  island,  in  an  unfrequented 
sea.  The  most  likely  measure  appeared  to  be  to 
send  notice  of  his  situation  to  Ovando,  the  govern- 
or at  San  Domingo,  entreating  him  to  dispatch 
a  vessel  to  his  relief.  But  how  was  this  message 
to  be  conveyed  ?  The  distance  between  Jamaica 
and  Hispaniola  was  forty  leagues,  across  a  gulf 
swept  by  contrary  currents  ;  there  were  no  means 
of  transporting  a  messenger,  except  in  the  light 
canoes  ot  the  savages  ;  and  who  would  undertake 
so  hazardous  a  voyage  in  a  frail  bark  of  the  kind  ? 
Suddenly  the  idea  of  Diego  Mendez,  and  the  ca- 
noe he  had  recently  purchased,  presented  itself  to 
the  mind  of  Columbus.  He  knew  the  ardor  and 
intrepidity  of  Mendez,  and  his  love  of  distinction 
by  any  hazardous  exploit.  Taking  him  aside,  there- 
fore, he  addressed  him  in  a  manner  calculated  both 
to  stimulate  his  zeal  and  flatter  his  self-love.  Men- 
dez himself  gives  an  artless  account  of  this  inter- 
esting conversation,  which  is  full  of  character. 

"Diego  Mendez,  my  son,"  said  the  venerable 
admiral,  "  none  of  those  whom  I  have  here  under- 
stand the  great  peril  in  which  we  are  placed,  ex- 
cepting you  and  myself.  We  are  few  in  number, 
and  these  savage  Indians  are  many,  and  of  fickle 
and  irritable  natures.  On  the  least  provocation 
they  may  throw  firebrands  from  the  shore,  and 
consume  us  in  our  straw-thatched  cabins.  The 

*  Relacion  por  Diego  Mendez.     Navarrete,  torn.  i. 


arrangement  which  you  have  made  with  them  for 
provisions,  and  which  at  present  they  fulfil  so 
cheerfully,  to-morrow  they  may  break  in  their  ca- 
price, and  may  refuse  to  bring  us  anything  ;  nor 
have  we  the  means  to  compel  them  by  force,  but 
are  entirely  at  their  pleasure.  I  have  thought  of 
a  remedy,  if  it  meets  with  your  views.  In  this 
canoe,  which  you  have  purchased,  some  one  may 
pass  over  to  Hispaniola,  and  procure  a  ship,  by 
which  we  may  all  be  delivered  from  this  great 
peril  into  which  we  have  fallen.  Tell  me  your 
opinion  on  the  matter." 

"  To  this,"  says  Diego  Mendez,  "  I  replied  : 
'  Sefior,  the  danger  in  which  we  are  placed,  I 
well  know,  is  far  greater  than  is  easily  conceived. 
As  to  passingfrom  this  island  to  Hispaniola,  in  so 
small  a  vessel  as  a  canoe,  I  hold  it  not  merely  diffi- 
cult, but  impossible  ;  since  it  is  necessary  to  trav- 
erse a  gulf  of  forty  leagues,  and  between  islands 
where  the  sea  is  extremely  impetuous  and  seldom 
in  repose.  I  know  not  who  there  is  would  ad- 
venture upon  so  extreme  a  peril.'  ' 

Columbus  made  no  reply,  but  from  his  looks 
and  the  nature  of  his  silence,  Mendez  plainly  per- 
ceived himself  to  be  the  person  whom  the  admiral 
had  in  view  ;  "  Whereupon,"  continues  he,  "  I 
added  :  '  Senor,  I  have  many  times  put  my  life  in 
peril  of  death  to  save  you  and  all  those  who  are 
here,  and  God  has  hitherto  preserved  me  in  a  mi- 
raculous manner.  There  are,  nevertheless,  mur- 
murers,  who  say  that  your  Excellency  intrusts  to 
me  all  affairs  wherein  honor  is  to  be  gained,  while 
there  are  others  in  your  company  who  would  exe- 
cute them  as  well  as  I  do.  Therefore  I  beg  that 
you  would  summon  all  the  people,  and  propose 
this  enterprise  to  them,  to  see  if  among  them 
there  is  any  one  who  will  undertake  it,  which  I 
doubt.  If  all  decline  it,  I  will  then  come  forward 
and  risk  my  life  in  your  service,  as  I  many  times 
have  done.'  "* 

The  admiral  gladly  humored  the  wishes  of  the 
worthy  Mendez,  for  never  was  simple  egotism 
accompanied  by  more  generous  and  devoted  loy- 
alty. On  the  following  morning  the  crew  was 
assembled,  and  the  proposition  publicly  made. 
Every  one  drew  back  at  the  thoughts  of  it,  pro- 
nouncing it  the  height  of  rashness.  Upon  this, 
Diego  Mendez  stepped  forward.  "Senor,"  said 
he,  "  I  have  but  one  life  to  lose,  yet  I  am  willing 
to  venture  it  for  your  service  and  for  the  good  of 
all  here  present,  and  I  trust  in  the  protection  of 
God,  which  I  have  experienced  on  so  many  other 
occasions." 

Columbus  embraced  this  zealous  follower,  who 
immediately  set  about  preparing  for  his  expedi- 
tion. Drawing  his  canoe  on  shore,  he  put  on  a 
false  keel,  nailed  weather-boards  along  the  bow 
and  stern,  to  prevent  the  sea  from  breaking  over 
it  ;  payed  it  with  a  coat  of  tar  ;  furnished  it  with 
a  mast  and  sail  ;  and  put  in  provisions  for  him- 
self, a  Spanish  comrade,  and  six  Indians. 

In  the  mean  time  Columbus  wrote  letters  to 
Ovando,  requesting  that  a  ship  might  be  immedi- 
ately sent  to  bring  him  and  his  men  to  Hispani- 
ola. He  wrote  a  letter  likewise  to  the  sovereigns  ; 
for,  after  fulfilling  his  mission  at  San  Domingo, 
Diego  Mendez  was  to  proceed  to  Spain  on  the  ad- 
miral's affairs.  In  the  letter  to'  the  sovereigns 
Columbus  depicted  his  deplorable  situation,  and 
entreated  that  a  vessel  might  be  dispatched  to 
Hispaniola,  to  convey  himself  and  his  crew  to 
Spain.  He  gave  a  comprehensive  account  of  his 


*  Relacion  por  Diego  Mendez.     Navarrete,  Coke, 
torn.  i. 


204 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


voyage,  most  particulars  of  which  have  already 
been  incorporated  in  this  history,  and  he  insisted 
greatly  on  the  importance  of  the  discovery  of  Ve- 
ragua.  He  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  here  were 
the  mines  of  the  Aurea  Chersonesus,  whence  Sol- 
omon had  derived  such  wealth  for  the  building  of 
the  Temple.  He  entreated  that  this  golden  coast 
might  not,  like  other  places  which  he  had  discov- 
ered, be  abandoned  to  adventurers,  or  placed  un- 
der the  government  of  men  who  lelt  no  interest  in 
the  cause.  "  This  is  not  a  child,"  he  adds,  "  to 
be  abandoned  to  a  step-mother.  I  never  think  of 
Hispaniola  and  Paria  without  weeping.  Tneir 
case  is  desperate  and  past  cure  ;  I  hope  their  ex- 
ample may  cause  this  region  to  be  treated  in  a 
different  manner."  His  imagination  becomes 
heated.  He  magnifies  the  supposed  importance 
of  Veragua,  as  transcending  all  his  former  dis- 
coveries ;  and  he  alludes  to  his  favorite  project 
for  the  deliverance  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  :  "  Jeru- 
salem," he  says,  "  and  Mount  Sion  are  to  be  re- 
built by  the  hand  of  a  Christian.  Who  is  he  to 
be  ?  God,  by  the  mouth  of  the  Prophet,  in  the 
fourteenth  Psalm,  declares  it.  The  abbot  Jo- 
achim* says  that  he  is  to  come  out  of  Spain." 
His  thoughts  then  revert  to  the  ancient  story  of 
the  Grand  Khan,  who  had  requested  that  sages 
might  be  sent  to  instruct  him  in  the  Christian 
faith.  Columbus,  thinking  that  he  had  been  in 
the  very  vicinity  of  Cathay,  exclaims,  with  sudden 
zeal,  "  Who  will  offer  himself  for  this  task  ?  It 
our  Lord  permit  me  to  return  to  Spain,  I  engage 
to  take  him  there,  God  helping,  in  safety." 

Nothing  is  more  characteristic  of  Columbus 
than  his  earnest,  artless,  at  times  eloquent,  and  at 
times  almost  incoherent  letters.  What  an  instance 
of  soaring  enthusiasm  and  irrepressible  enter- 
prise is  here  exhibited  !  At  the  time  that  he  was 
indulging  in  these  visions,  and  proposing  new  and 
romantic  enterprises,  he  was  broken  down  by  age 
and  infirmities,  racked  by  pain,  confined  to  his 
bed,  and  shut  up  in  a  wreck  on  the  coast  of  a  re- 
mote and  savage  island.  No  stronger  picture  can 
be  given  of  his  situation,  than  that  which  shortly 
follows  this  transient  glow  of  excitement  ;  when 
with  one  of  his  sudden  transitions  of  thought,  he 
awakens,  as  it  were,  to  his  actual  condition. 

"  Hitherto,"  says  he,  "  I  have  wept  for  others  ; 
but  now,  have  pity  upon  me,  heaven,  and  weep 
tor  me,  O  earth  !  In  my  temporal  concerns, 
without  a  farthing  to  offer  for  a  mass  ;  cast  away 
here  in  the  Indies  ;  surrounded  by  cruel  and  hos- 
tile savages  ;  isolated,  infirm,  expecting  each  day 
•will  be  my  last  ;  in  spiritual  concerns,  separated 
from  the  holy  sacraments  of  the  church,  so  that 
my  soul,  if  parted  here  from  my  body,  must  be 
forever  lost  !  \Veep  for  me,  whoever  has  charity, 
truth,  and  justice  !  I  came  not  on  this  voyage  to 


*  Joachim,  native  of  the  burgh  of  Celico,  near  Co- 
zenza,  travelled  in  the  Holy  Land.  Returning  to  Ca- 
labria, he  took  the  habit  of  the  Cistercians  in  the  mon- 
astery of  Corazzo,  of  which  he  became  prior  and 
abbot,  and  afterward  rose  to  higher  monastic  impor- 
tance. He  died  in  1202,  having  attained  seventy- 
two  years  of  age,  leaving  a  great  number  of  works  ; 
among  the  most  known  are  commentaries  on  Isaiah. 
Jeremiah,  and  the  Apocalypse.  There  are  also 
prophecies  by  him,  "  which"  (says  the  Dictionnaire 
Historique),  "during  his  life,  made  him  to  be  ad- 
mired by  fools  and  despised  by  men  of  sense  ;  at 
present  the  latter  sentiment  prevails.  He  was  either 
very  weak  or  very  presumptuous,  to  flatter  himself 
that  he  had  the  keys  of  things  of  which  God  reserves 
the  knowledge  to  himself." — Diet.  Hist.  torn.  5,  Caen, 
1785- 


gain  honor  or  estate,  that  is  most  certain,  for  all 
hope  of  the  kind  was  already  dead  within  me.  I 
came  to  serve  your  majesties  with  a  sound  inten- 
tion and  an  honest  zeal,  and  I  speak  no  falsehood. 
If  it  should  please  God  to  deliver  me  hence,  I 
humbly  supplicate  your  majesties  to  permit  me  to 
repair  to  Rome,  and  perform  other  pilgrimages." 

The  dispatches  being  ready,  and  the  prepara- 
tions of  the  canoe  completed,  Diego  Mendez  em- 
barked, with  his  Spanish  comrade  and  his  six  In- 
dians, and  departed  along  the  coast  to  the  east- 
ward. The  voyage  was  toilsome  and  perilous. 
They  had  to  make  their  way  against  strong  cur- 
rents. Once  they  were  taken  by  roving  canoes  of 
Indians,  but  made  their  escape,  and  at  length  ar- 
rived at  the  end  of  the  island,  a  distance  of  thirty- 
four  leagues  from  the  harbor.  Here  they  remain- 
ed waiting  for  calm  weather  to  venture  upon  the 
broad  gulf,  when  they  were  suddenly  surrounded 
and  taken  prisoners  by  a  number  of  hostile  In- 
dians, who  carried  them  off  a  distance  of  three 
leagues,  where  they  determined  to  kill  them. 
Some  dispute  arose  about  the  division  of  the  spoils 
taken  from  the  Spaniards,  whereupon  the  savages 
agreed  to  settle  it  by  a  game  of  chance.  While 
they  were  thus  engaged,  Diego  Mendez  escaped, 
found  his  way  to  his  canoe,  embarked  in  it,  and 
returned  alone  to  the  harbor  after  fifteen  clays' 
absence.  What  became  of  his  companions  he 
does  not  mention,  being  seldom  apt  to  speak  of 
any  person  but  himself.  This  account  is  taken 
from  the  narrative  inserted  in  his  last  will  and  tes- 
tament. 

Columbus,  though  grieved  at  the  failure  of  his 
message,  was  rejoiced  at  the  escape  of  the  faithful 
Mendez.  The  latter,  nothing  daunted  by  the  per- 
ils and  hardships  he  had  undergone,  offered  to  de- 
part immediately  on  a  second  attempt,  provided 
he  could  have  persons  to  accompany  him  to  the 
end  of  the  island,  and  protect  him  from  the  na- 
tives. This  the  Adelantado  offered  to  undertake, 
with  a  large  party  well  armed.  Bartholomew  Fi- 
es'co,  a  Genoese,  who  had  been  captain  of  one  of 
the  caravels,  was  associated  with  Mendez  in  this 
second  expedition.  He  was  a  man  of  great  worth, 
strongly  attached  to  the  admiral,  and  much  es- 
teemed by  him.  Each  had  a  large  canoe  under 
his  command,  in  which  were  six  Spaniards  and 
ten  Indians — the  latter  were  to  serve  as  oarsmen. 
The  canoes  were  to  keep  in  company.  On  reach- 
ing Hispaniola,  Fiesco  was  to  return  immediately 
to  Jamaica,  to  relieve  the  anxiety  of  the  admiral 
and  his  crew,  by  tidings  of  the  sate  arrival  of  their 
messenger.  In  the  mean  time  Diego  Mendez  was 
to  proceed  to  San  Domingo,  deliver  his  letter  to 
Ovando,  procure  and  dispatch  a  ship,  and  then 
depart  for  Spain  with  a  letter  to  the  sovereigns. 

All  arrangements  being  made,  the  Indians 
placed  in  the  canoes  their  frugal  provision  of  cas- 
sava bread,  and  each  his  calabash  of  water.  The 
Spaniards,  besides  their  bread,  had  a  supply  of  the 
flesh  of  utias,  and  each  his  sword  and  target.  In 
this  way  they  launched  forth  upon  their  long  and 
perilous  voyage,  followed  by  the  prayers  of  their 
countrymen. 

The  Adelantado,  with  his  armed  band,  kept 
pace  with  them  along  the  coast.  There  was  no 
attempt  of  the  natives  to  molest  them,  and  they 
arrived  in  safety  at  the  end  of  the  island.  Here 
they  remained  three  days  before  the  sea  was  suffi- 
ciently calm  for  them  to  venture  forth  in  their 
feeble  barks.  At  length,  the  weather  being  quite 
serene,  they  bade  farewell  to  their  comrades,  and 
committed  themselves  to  the  broad  sea.  The 
Adelantado  remained  watching  them,  until  they 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


205 


became  mere  specks  on  the  ocean,  and  the  evening 
hid  them  from  his  view.  The  next  day  he  set  out 
on  his  return  to  the  harbor,  stopping  at  various 
villages  on  the  way,  and  endeavoring  to  confirm 
the  good-will  of  the  natives.* 


CHAPTER   II. 

MUTINY    OF  PORRAS. 
[1503.] 

IT  might  have  been  thought  that  the  adverse 
fortune  which  had  so  long  persecuted  Columbus 
was  now  exhausted.  The  envy  which  had  once 
sickened  at  his  glory  and  prosperity  could  scarce- 
ly have  devised  for  him  a  more  forlorn  heritage  in 
the  world  he  had  discovered.  The  tenant  of  a 
wreck  on  a  savage  coast,  in  an  untraversed  ocean, 
at  the  mercy  of  barbarous  hordes,  who,  in  a  mo- 
ment, from  precarious  friends,  might  be  trans- 
formed into  ferocious  enemies  ;  afflicted,  too,  by 
excruciating  maladies  which  confined  him  to  his 
bed,  and  by  the  pains  and  infirmities  which  hard- 
ship and  anxiety  had  heaped  upon  his  advancing 
age.  But  he  had  not  yet  exhausted  his  cup  of  bit- 
terness. He  had  yet  to  experience  an  evil  worse 
than  storm,  or  shipwreck,  or  bodily  anguish,  or 
the  violence  of  savage  hordes — the  perfidy  of  those 
in  whom  he  confided. 

Mendez  and  Fiesco  had  not  long  departed  when 
the  Spaniards  in  the  wreck  began  to  grow  sickly, 
partly  from  the  toils  and  exposures  of  the  recent 
voyage,  partly  from  being  crowded  in  narrow 
quarters  in  a  moist  and  sultry  climate,  and  partly 
from  want  of  their  accustomed  food,  for  they  could 
not  habituate  themselves  to  the  vegetable  diet  of 
the  Indians.  Their  maladies  were  rendered  more 
insupportable  by  mental  suffering,  by  that  suspense 
which  frets  the  spirit,  and  that  hope  deferred  which 
corrodes  the  heart.  Accustomed  to  a  life  of  bustle 
and  variety,  they  had  now  nothing  to  do  but  loiter 
about  the  dreary  hulk,  look  out  upon  the  sea, 
watch  for  the  canoe  of  Fiesco,  wonder  at  its  pro- 
tracted absence,  and  doubt  its  return.  A  long 
time  elapsed,  much  more  than  sufficient  for  the 
voyage,  but  nothing  was  seen  or  heard  of  the 
canoe.  Fears  were  entertained  that  their  mes- 
senger had  perished.  If  so,  how  long  were  they 
to  remain  here,  vainly  looking  for  relief  which  was 
never  to  arrive  ?  Some  sank  into  deep  despond- 
ency, others  became  peevish  and  impatient.  Mur- 
murs broke  forth,  and,  as  usual  with  men  in  dis- 
tress, murmurs  of  the  most  unreasonable  kind. 
Instead  of  sympathizing  with  their  aged  and  in- 
firm commander,  who  was  involved  in  the  same 
calamity,  who  in  suffering  transcended  them  all, 
and  yet  who  was  incessantly  studious  of  their  wel- 
fare, they  began  to  rail  against  him  as  the  cause 
of  all  their  misfortunes. 

.  The  factious  feeling  of  an  unreasonable  multitude 
would  be  of  little  importance  if  left  to  itself,  and 
might  end  in  idle  clamor  ;  it  is  the  industry  of 
one  or  two  evil  spirits  which  generally  directs  it 
to  an  object,  and  makes  it  mischievous.  Among 
the  officers  of  Columbus  were  two  brothers,  Fran- 
cisco and  Diego  de  Porras.  They  were  related  to 
the  royal  treasurer  Morales,  who  had  married 
their  sister,  and  had  made  interest  with  the  ad- 
miral to  give  them  some  employment  in  the  expe- 
dition, f  To  gratify  the  treasurer,  he  had  appoint- 


ed Francisco  de  Porras  captain  of  one  of  the  cara- 
vels, and  had  obtained  for  his  brother  Diego  the 
situation  of  notary  and  accountant-general  of  the 
squadron.  He  had  treated  them,  as  he  declares, 
with  the  kindness  of  relatives,  though  both  proved 
incompetent  to  their  situations.  They  were  vain 
and  insolent  men,  and,  like  many  others  whom 
Columbus  had  benefited,  requited  his  kindness 
with  black  ingratitude.* 

These  men,  finding  the  common  people  in  a 
highly  impatient  and  discontented  state,  wrought 
upon  them  with  seditious  insinuations,  assuring 
them  that  all  hope  of  relief  through  the  agency  of 
Mendez  was  idle  ;  it  being  a  mere  delusion  of  the 
admiral  to  keep  them  quiet,  and  render  them  sub- 
servient to  his  purposes.  He  had  no  desire  nor 
intention  to  return  to  Spain  ;  and  in  fact  was 
banished  thence.  Hispaniola  was  equally  closed 
I  to  him,  as  had  been  proved  by  the  exclusion  of  his 
ships  from  its  harbor  in  a  time  of  peril.  To  him, 
at  present,  all  places  were  alike,  and  he  was  con- 
tent to  remain  in  Jamaica  until  his  friends  could 
make  interest  at  court,  and  procure  his  recall 
from  banishment.  As  to  Mendez  and  Fiesco, 
they  had  been  sent  to  Spain  by  Columbus  on  his 
own  private  affairs,  not  to  procure  a  ship  for  the 
relief  of  his  followers.  If  this  were  not  the  case, 
why  did  not  the  ships  arrive,  or  why  did  not  Fi- 
esco return,  as  had  been  promised  ?  Or  if  the 
canoes  had  really  been  sent  for  succor,  the  long 
time  that  had  elapsed  without  tidings  of  them 
gave  reason  to  believe  they  had  perished  by  the 
way.  In  such  case,  their  only  alternative  would 
be  to  take  the  canoes  of  the  Indians  and  endeavor 
to  reach  Hispaniola.  There  was  no  hope,  how- 
ever, of  persuading  the  admiral  to  such  an  under- 
taking ;  he  was  too  old,  and  too  helpless  from 
the  gout,  to  expose  himself  to  the  hardships  of 
such  a  voyage.  What  then  ?  were  they  to  be  sac- 
rificed to  his  interests  or  his  infirmities  ? — to  give 
up  their  only  chance  for  escape,  and  linger  and 
perish  with  him  in  this  desolate  wreck  ?  If  they 
succeeded  in  reaching  Hispaniola,  they  would  be 
the  better  received  for  having  left  the  admiral  be- 
hind. Ovando  was  secretly  hostile  to  him,  fear- 
ing that  he  would  regain  the  government  of  the 
island  ;  on  their  arrival  in  Spain,  the  Bishop 
Fonseca,  from  his  enmity  to  Columbus,  would  be 
sure  to  take  their  part  ;  the  brothers  Porras  had 
powerful  friends  and  relatives  at  court,  to  counter- 
act any  representations  that  might  be  made  by  the 
admiral  ;  and  they  cited  the  case  of  Roldan's  re- 
bellion, to  show  that  the  prejudices  of  the  public 
and  of  men  in  power  would  always  be  against 
him.  Nay,  they  insinuated  that  the  sovereigns, 
who,  on  that  occasion,  had  deprived  him  of  part 
of  his  dignities  and  privileges,  would  rejoice  at  a 
pretext  for  stripping  him  of  the  remainder.! 

Columbus  was  aware  that  the  minds  of  his  peo- 
ple were  embittered  against  him.  He  had  repeat- 
edly been  treated  with  insolent  impatience,  and 
reproached  with  being  the  cause  of  their  disasters. 
Accustomed,  however,  to  the  unreasonableness  of 
men  in  adversity,  and  exercised,  by  many  trials, 
in  the  mastery  of  his  passions,  he  bore  with  their 
petulance,  soothed  their  irritation,  and  endeavor- 
ed to  cheer  their  spirits  by  the  hopes  of  speedy 
succor.  A  little  while  longer,  and  he  trusted  that 
Fiesco  would  arrive  with  good  tidings,  when  the 
certainty  of  relief  would  put  an  end  to  all  these 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  101. 
\  Ibid.,  cap.  102. 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  his  son  Diego.    Navarneta 
Colec. 
f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  102. 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


clamors.  The  mischief,  however,  was  deeper 
than  he  apprehended  :  a  complete  mutiny  had 
been  organized. 

On  the  2d  of  January,  1504,  he  was  in  his  small 
cabin,  on  the  stern  of  his  vessel,  being  confined  to 
his  bed  by  the  gout,  which  had  now  rendered  him 
a  complete  cripple.  While  ruminating  on  his 
disastrous  situation,  Francisco  de  Porras  sudden- 
ly entered.  His  abrupt  and  agitated  manner  be- 
trayed the  evil  nature  of  his  visit.  He  had  the 
flurried  impudence  of  a  man  about  to  perpetrate 
an  open  crime.  Breaking  forth  into  bitter  com- 
plaints, at  their  being  kept,  week  after  week,  and 
month  after  month,  to  perish  piecemeal  in  that 
desolate  place,  he  accused  the  admiral  of  having 
no  intention  to  return  to  Spain.  Columbus  sus- 
pected something  sinister  from  his  unusual  arro- 
gance ;  he  maintained,  however,  his  calmness, 
and,  raising  himself  in  his  bed,  endeavored  to 
reason  with  Porras.  He  pointed  out  the  impossi- 
bility of  departing  until  those  who  had  gone  to 
Hispaniola  should  send  them  vessels.  He  repre- 
sented how  much  more  urgent  must  be  his  desire 
to  depart,  since  he  had  not  merely  his  own  safety 
to  provide  for,  but  was  accountable  to  God  and 
his  sovereigns  for  the  welfare  of  all  who  had  been 
committed  to  his  charge.  He  reminded  Porras 
that  he  had  always  consulted  with  them  all,  as  to 
the  measures  to  be  taken  tor  the  common  safety, 
and  that  what  he  had  done  had  been  with  the 
general  approbation  ;  still,  if  any  other  measure 
appeared  advisable,  he  recommended  that  they 
should  assemble  together,  and  consult  upon  it, 
and  adopt  whatever  course  appeared  most  judi- 
cious. 

The  measures  of  Porras  and  his  comrades,  how- 
ever, were  already  concerted,  and  when  men  are 
determined  on  mutiny  they  are  deaf  to  reason. 
He  bluntly  replied  that  there  was  no  time  for  fur- 
ther consultations.  "  Embark  immediately  or  re- 
main in  God's  name,  were  the  only  alternatives." 
"  For  my  part,"  said  he,  turning  his  back  upon 
the  admiral,  and  elevating  his  voice  so  that  it  re- 
sounded all  over  the  vessel,  "  I  am  for  Castile  ! 
those  who  choose  may  follow  me  !"  Shouts  arose 
immediately  from  all  sides,  "  I  will  follow  you  ! 
and  I  !  and  I  !"  Numbers  of  the  crew  sprang 
upon  the  most  conspicuous  parts  of  the  ship, 
brandishing  weapons,  and  uttering  mingled 
threats  and  cries  of  rebellion.  Some  called  upon 
Porras  for  orders  what  to  do  ;  others  shouted 
"  To  Castile  !  to  Castile  !"  while,  amid  the  gen- 
eral uproar,  the  voices  of  some  desperadoes  were 
heard  menacing  the  life  of  the  admiral. 

Columbus,  hearing  the  tumult,  leaped  from  his 
bed,  ill  and  infirm  as  he  was,  and  tottered  out  of 
the  cabin,  stumbling  and  falling  in  the  exertion, 
hoping  by  his  presence  to  pacify  the  mutineers. 
Three  or  four  of  his  faithful  adherents,  however, 
fearing  some  violence  might  be  offered  him,  threw 
themselves  between  him  and  the  throng,  and  tak- 
ing him  in  their  arms  compelled  him  to  return 
to  his  cabin. 

The  Adelantado  likewise  sallied  forth,  but  in  a 
different  mood.  He  planted  himself,  with  lance 
in  hand,  in  a  situation  to  take  the  whole  brunt  of 
the  assault.  It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
several  of  the  loyal  part  of  the  crew  could  appease 
his  fury,  and  prevail  upon  him  to  relinquish  his 
weapon,  and  retire  to  the  cabin  of  his  brother. 
They  now  entreated  Porras  and  his  companions  to 
depart  peaceably,  since  no  one  sought  to  oppose 
them.  No  advantage  could  be  gained  by  vio- 
lence ;  but  should  they  cause  the  death  of  the  ad- 


miral, they  would  draw  upon  themselves  the  se- 
verest punishment  from  the  sovereigns.* 

These  representations  moderated  the  turbu- 
lence of  the  mutineers,  and  they  now  proceeded 
to  carry  their  plans  into  execution.  Taking  ten 
canoes,  which  the  admiral  had  purchased  of  the 
Indians,  they  embarked  in  them  with  as  much  ex- 
ultation as  if  certain  of  immediately  landing  on 
the  shores  of  Spain.  Others,  who  had  not  been 
concerned  in  the  mutiny,  seeing  so  large  a  force 
departing,  and  fearing  to  remain  behind,  when  so 
reduced  in  number,  hastily  collected  their  effects 
and  entered  likewise  into  the  canoes.  In  this  way 
forty-eight  abandoned  the  admiral.  Many  of 
those  who  remained  were  only  detained  by  sick- 
ness, for  had  they  been  well,  most  of  them  would 
have  accompanied  the  deserters. f  The  few  who 
remained  faithful  to  the  admiral,  and  the  sick, 
who  crawled  forth  from  their  cabins,  saw  the  de- 
parture of  the  mutineers  with  tears  and  lamenta- 
tions, giving  themselves  up  for  lost.  Notwith- 
standing his  malady,  Columbus  left  his  bed,  min- 
gling among  those  who  were  loyal,  and  visiting 
those  who  were  ill,  endeavoring  in  every  way  to 
cheer  and  comfort  them.  He  entreated  them  to  put 
their  trust  in  God,  who  would  yet  relieve  them  ; 
and  he  promised,  on  his  return  to  Spain,  to  throw 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  queen,  represent  their 
loyalty  and  constancy,  and  obtain  for  them  re- 
wards that  should  compensate  for  all  their  suffer- 
ings. J 

In  the  mean  time  Francisco  de  Porras  and  his 
followers,  in  their  squadron  of  canoes,  coasted  the 
island  to  the  eastward,  following  the  route  taken 
by  Mendez  and  Fiesco.  Wherever  they  landed 
they  committed  outrages  upon  the  Indians,  rob- 
bing them  of  their  provisions,  and  of  whatever  they  , 
coveted  of  their  effects.  They  endeavored  to 
make  their  own  crimes  redound  to  the  prejudice 
of  Columbus,  pretending  to  act  under  his  author- 
ity, and  affirming  that  he  would  pay  for  every- 
thing they  took.  If  he  refused,  they  told  the  na- 
tives to  kill  him.  They  represented  him  as  an 
implacable  foe  to  the  Indians  ;  as  one  who  had 
tyrannized  over  other  islands,  causing  the  misery 
and  death  of  the  natives,  and  who  only  sought  to 
gain  a  sway  here  for  the  purpose  of  inflicting  like 
calamities. 

Having  reached  the  eastern  extremity  of  the 
island,  they  waited  until  the  weather  should  be 
perfectly  calm  before  they  ventured  to  cross  the 
gulf.  Being  unskilled  in  the  management  of  ca- 
noes, they  procured  several  Indians  to  accompany 
them.  -The  sea  being  at  length  quite  smooth, 
they  set  forth  upon  their  voyage.  Scarcely  had 
they  proceeded  four  leagues  from  land  when  a 
contrary  wind  arose,  and  the  waves  began  to 
swell.  They  turned  immediately  for  shore.  The 
canoes,  from  their  light  structure,  and  being 
nearly  round  and  without  keels,  were  easily  over- 
turned, and  required  to  be  carefully  balanced. 
They  were  now  deeply  freighted  by  men  unac- 
customed to  them,  and  as  the  sea  rose  they  fre- 
quently let  in  the  water.  The  Spaniards  were 
alarmed,  and  endeavored  to  lighten  them  by 
throwing  overboard  everything  that  could  be 
spared  ;  retaining  only  their  arms  and  a  part  of 
their  provisions.  The  danger  augmented  with 
the  wind.  They  now  compelled  the  Indians  to 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  32.     Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  102. 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  102. 
£  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  32. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


207 


leap  into  the  sea,  excepting  such  as  were  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  navigate  the  canoes.  If  they 
hesitated,  they  drove  them  overboard  with  the 
edge  of  the  sword.  The  Indians  were  skilful 
swimmers,  but  the  distance  to  land  was  too  great 
for  their  strength.  They  kept  about  the  canoes, 
therefore,  taking  hold  of  them  occasionally  to  rest 
themselves  and  recover  breath.  As  their  weight 
disturbed  the  balance  ot  the  canoes,  and  en- 
dangered their  overturning,  the  Spaniards  cut  off 
their  hands  and  stabbed  them  with  their  swords. 
Some  died  by  the  weapons  of  these  cruel  men, 
others  were  exhausted  and  sank  beneath  the 
waves  ;  thus  eighteen  perished  miserably,  and 
none  survived  but  such  as  had  been  retained  to 
manage  the  canoes. 

When  the  Spaniards  got  back  to  land,  different 
opinions  arose  as  to  what  course  they  should  next 
pursue.  Some  were  for  crossing  to  Cuba,  for 
which  island  the  wind  was  favorable.  It  was 
thought  they  might  easily  cross  thence  to  the  end 
of  Hispaniola.  Others  advised  that  they  should 
return  and  make  their  peace  with  the  admiral,  or 
take  from  him  what  remained  of  arms  and  stores, 
having  thrown  almost  everything  overboard  during 
their  late  danger.  Others  counselled  another  at- 
tempt to  cross  over  to  Hispaniola,  as  soon  as 
the  sea  should  become  tranquil. 

This  last  advice  was  adopted.  They  remained 
for  a  month  at  an  Indian  village  near  the  eastern 
point  of  the  island,  living  on  the  substance  of  the 
natives,  and  treating  them  in  the  most  arbitrary 
and  capricious  manner.  When  at  length  the 
weather  became  serene,  they  made  a  second  at- 
tempt, but  were  again  driven  back  by  adverse 
winds.  Losing  all  patience,  therefore,  and  de- 
spairing of  the  enterprise,  they  abandoned  their 
canoes,  and  returned  westward,  wandering  from 
village  to  village,  a  dissolute  and  lawless  gang, 
supporting  themselves  by  fair  means  or  foul,  ac- 
cording as  they  met  with  kindness  or  hostility,  and 
passing  like  a  pestilence  through  the  island.* 


CHAPTER  III. 

SCARCITY  OF  PROVISIONS  —  STRATACEM  OF  CO- 
LUMBUS TO  OBTAIN  SUPPLIES  FROM  THE  NA- 
TIVES. 


WHILE  Porras  and  his  crew  were  raging  about 
with  that  desperate  and  joyless  licentiousness 
which  attends  the  abandonment  of  principle,  Co- 
lumbus presented  the  opposite  picture  of  a  man  true 
to  others  and  to  himself,  and  supported,  amid 
hardships  and  difficulties,  by  conscious  rectitude. 
Deserted  by  the  healthful  and  vigorous  portion  of 
his  garrison,  he  exerted  himself  to  soothe  and  en- 
courage the  infirm  and  desponding  remnant  which 
remained.  Regardless  of  his  own  painful  mala- 
dies, he  was  only  attentive  to  relieve  their  suffer- 
ings. The  few  who  were  fit  for  service  were  re- 
quired to  mount  guard  on  the  wreck  or  attend 
upon  the  sick  ;  there  were  none  to  forage  for  pro- 
visions. The  scrupulous  good  faith  and  amicable 
conduct  maintained  by  Columbus  toward  the  na- 
tives had  now  their  effect.  Considerable  supplies 
of  provisions  were  brought  by  them  from  time  to 
time,  which  he  purchased  at  a  reasonable  rate. 
The  most  palatable  and  nourishing  of  these,  to- 

*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  102.  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  32. 


gether  with  the  small  stock  of  European  biscuit 
that  remained,  he  ordered  to  be  appropriated  to 
the  sustenance  of  the  infirm.  Knowing  how 
much  the  body  is  affected  by  the  operations  of  the 
mind,  he  endeavored  to  rouse  the  spirits  and  an- 
imate the  hopes  of  the  drooping  sufferers.  Con- 
cealing his  own  anxiety,  he  maintained  a  serene 
and  even  cheerful  countenance,  encouraging  his 
men  by  kind  words,  and  holding  forth  confident 
anticipations  of  speedy  relief.  By  his  friendly  and 
careful  treatment,  he  soon  recruited  both  the 
health  and  spirits  of  his  people,  and  brought  them 
into  a  condition  to  contribute  to  the  common 
safety.  Judicious  regulations,  calmly  but  firmly 
enforced,  maintained  everything  in  order.  The 
men  became  sensible  of  the  advantages  of  whole- 
some discipline,  and  perceived  that  the  restraints 
imposed  upon  them  by  their  commander  were  for 
their  own  good,  and  ultimately  productive  of  their 
own  comfort. 

Columbus  had  thus  succeeded  in  guarding 
against  internal  ills,  when  alarming  evils  began 
to  menace  from  without.  The  Indians,  unused  to 
lay  up  any  stock  of  provisions,  and  unwilling  to 
subject  themselves  to  extra  labor,  found  it  difficult 
to  furnish  the  quantity  of  food  daily  required  for 
so  many  hungry  men.  The  European  trinkets, 
once  so  precious,  lost  their  value  in  proportion  as 
they  became  more  common.  The  importance  of 
the  admiral  had  been  greatly  diminished  by  the 
desertion  ot  so  many  of  his  followers,  and  the 
malignant  instigations  of  the  rebels  had  awakened 
jealousy  and  enmity  in  several  of  the  villages, 
which  had  been  accustomed  to  furnish  provisions. 

By  degrees,  therefore,  the  supplies  fell  off.  The 
arrangements  for  the  daily  delivery  of  certain 
quantities,  made  by  Diego  Mendez,  were  irregu- 
larly attended  to,  and  at  length  ceased  entirely. 
The  Indians  no  longer  thronged  to  the  harbor 
with  provisions,  and  often  refused  them  when 
applied  for.  The  Spaniards  were  obliged  to  for- 
age about  the  neighborhood  for  their  daily  food, 
but  found  more  and  more  difficulty  in  procuring 
it  ;  thus,  in  addition  to  their  other  causes  for  de- 
spondency, they  began  to  entertain  horrible  appre- 
hensions ot  famine. 

The  admiral  heard  their  melancholy  forebod- 
ings, and  beheld  the  growing  evil,  but  was  at  a 
loss  for  a  remedy.  To  resort  to  force  was  an  al- 
ternative full  of  danger,  and  of  but  temporary  effi- 
cacy. It  would  require  all  those  who  were  well 
enough  to  bear  arms  to  sally  forth,  while  he  and 
the  rest  of  the  infirm  would  be  left  defenceless  on 
board  of  the  wreck,  exposed  to  the  vengeance  of 
the  natives. 

In  the  mean  time  the  scarcity  daily  increased. 
The  Indians  perceived  the  wants  of  the  white 
men,  and  had  learnt  from  them  the  art  of  making 
bargains.  They  asked  ten  times  the  former  quan- 
tity of  European  articles  for  any  amount  of  pro- 
visions, and  brought  their  supplies  in  scanty  quan- 
tities, to  enhance  the  eagerness  of  the  hungry 
Spaniards.  At  length  even  this  relief  ceased,  and 
there  was  an  absolute  distress  for  food.  The  jeal- 
ousy of  the  natives  had  been  universally  roused  by 
Porras  and  his  followers,  and  they  withheld  all 
provisions,  in  hopes  either  of  starving  the  admiral 
and  his  people,  or  of  driving  them  from  the  island. 

In  this  extremity  a  fortunate  idea  presented  it- 
self to  Columbus.  From  his  knowledge  ot  as- 
tronomy, he  ascertained  that,  within  three  days, 
there  would  be  a  total  eclipse  of  the  moon  in  the 
early  part  of  the  night.  He  sent,  therefore,  an 
Indian  of  Hispaniola,  who  served  as  his  interpret- 
er, to  summon  the  principal  caciques  to  a  grand 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


conference,  appointing  for  it  the  day  of  the 
eclipse.  When  all  were  assembled  he  told  them 
by  his  interpreter,  that  he  and  his  followers  were 
•worshippers  of  a  Deity  who  dwelt  in  the  skies  ; 
who  favored  such  as  did  well,  but  punished  all 
transgressors.  That,  as  they  must  all  have  no- 
ticed, he  had  protected  Diego  Mendez  and  his 
companions  in  their  voyage,  because  they  went  in 
obedience  to  the  orders  of  their  commanders, 
but  had  visited  Porras  and  his  companions  with 
all  kinds  of  afflictions,  in  consequence  of  their 
rebellion.  This  great  Deity,  he  added,  was  in- 
censed against  the  Indians  who  refused  to  furnish 
his  faithful  worshippers  with  provisions,  and  in- 
tended to  chastise  them  with  famine  and  pesti- 
lence. Lest  they  should  disbelieve  this  warning, 
a  signal  would  be  given  that  night.  They  would 
behold  the  moon  change  its  color  and  gradually 
lose  its  light ;  a  token  of  the  fearful  punishment 
which  awaited  them. 

Many  of  the  Indians  were  alarmed  at  the  pre- 
diction, others  treated  it  with  derision — all,  how- 
ever, awaited  with  solicitude  the  coming  of  the 
night.  When  they  beheld  a  dark  shadow  stealing 
over  the  moon  they  began  to  tremble  ;  with  the 
progress  of  the  eclipse  their  fears  increased,  and 
when  they  saw  a  mysterious  darkness  covering 
the  whole  face  of  nature,  there  were  no  bounds  to 
their  terror.  Seizing  upon  whatever  provisions 
were  at  hand,  they  hurried  to  the  ships,  threw 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  Columbus,  and  implored 
him  to  intercede  with  his  God  to  withhold  the 
threatened  calamities,  assuring  him  they  would 
thenceforth  bring  him  whatever  he  required.  Co- 
lumbus shut  himself  up  in  his  cabin,  as  if  to  com- 
mune with  the  Deity,  and  remained  there  during 
the  increase  of  the  eclipse,  the  forests  and  shores 
all  the  while  resounding  with  the  howlings  and 
supplications  of  the  savages.  When  the  eclipse 
was  about  to  diminish  he  came  forth  and  informed 
the  natives  that  his  God  had  deigned  to  pardon 
them,  on  condition  of  their  fulfilling  their  prom- 
ises<  in  sign  of  which  he  would  withdraw  the 
darkness  from  the  moon. 

When  the  Indians  saw  that  planet  restored  to 
its  brightness,  and  rolling  in  all  its  beauty  through 
the  firmament,  they  overwhelmed  the  admiral 
with  thanks  for  his  intercession,  and  repaired  to 
their  homes,  joyful  at  having  escaped  such  great 
disasters.  Regarding  Columbus  with  awe  and  rev- 
erence, as  a  man  in  the  peculiar  favor  and  confi- 
dence of  the  Deity,  since  he  knew  upon  earth 
what  was  passing  in  the  heavens,  they  hastened 
to  propitiate  him  with  gifts  ;  supplies  again  ar- 
rived daily  at  the  harbor,  and  from  that  time  for- 
ward there  was  no  want  of  provisions.* 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MISSION  OF  DIEGO  DE  ESCOBAR  TO  THE  ADMIRAL. 
[1504.] 

EIGHT  months  had  now  elapsed  since  the  de- 
parture of  Mendez  and  Fiesco,  without  any  tidings 
of  their  fate.  For  a  long  time  the  Spaniards  had 
kept  a  wistful  look-out  upon  the  ocean,  flattering 
themselves  that  every  Indian  canoe,  gliding  at  a 
distance,  might  be  the  harbinger  of  deliverance. 
The  hopes  of  the  most  sanguine  were  now  fast 
sinking  into  despondency.  What  thousand  perils 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.   103.     Las  Casas,  Hist. 
Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  33. 


awaited  such  frail  barks,  and  so  weak  a  party,  on 
an  expedition  of  the  kind  !  Either  the  canoes  had 
been  swallowed  up  by  boisterous  waves  and  ad- 
verse currents,  or  their  crews  had  perished  among 
the  rugged  mountains  and  savage  tribes  of  His- 
paniola.  To  increase  their  despondency,  they 
were  informed  that  a  vessel  had  been  seen,  bot- 
tom upward,  drifting  with  the  currents  along  the 
coasts  of  Jamaica.  This  might  be  the  vessel  sent 
to  their  relief  ;  and  if  so,  all  their  hopes  were  ship- 
wrecked with  it.  This  rumor,  it  is  affirmed,  was 
invented  and  circulated  in  the  island  by  the  rebels, 
that  it  might  reach  the  ears  of  those  who  remained 
faithful  to  the  admiral,  and  reduced  them  to  de- 
spair.* It  no  doubt  had  its  effect.  Losing  all  hope 
of  aid  from  a  distance,  and  considering  them- 
selves abandoned  and  forgotten  by  the  world, 
many  grew  wild  and  desperate  in  their  plans. 
Another  conspiracy  was  formed  by  one  Bernardo, 
an  apothecary  of  Valencia,  with  two  confederates, 
Alonzo  de  Zamora  and  Pedro  de  Villatoro.  They 
designed  to  seize  upon  the  remaining  canoes,  and 
seek  their  way  to  Hispaniola.f 

The  mutiny  was  on  the  very  point  of  breaking 
out,  when  one  evening,  toward  clusk,  a  sail  was 
seen  standing  toward  the  harbor.  The  transports 
of  the  poor  Spaniards  may  be  more  easily  conceived 
than  described.  The  vessel  was  of  small  size  ;  it 
kept  out  to  sea,  but  sent  its  boat  to  visit  the  ships. 
Every  eye  was  eagerly  bent  to  hail  the  counte- 
nances of  Christians  and  deliverers.  As  the  boat 
approached,  they  descried  in  it  Diego  de  Escobar, 
a  man  who  had  been  one  of  the  most  active  con- 
federates of  Roldan  in  his  rebellion,  who  had  been 
condemned  to  death  under  the  administration  of 
Columbus,  and  pardoned  by  his  successor  Boba- 
clilla.  There  was  bad  omen  in  such  a  messenger. 

Coming  alongside  of  the  ships,  Escobar  put  a 
letter  on  board  from  Ovando,  governor  of  His- 
paniola,  together  with  a  barrel  of  wine  and  a  side 
of  bacon,  sent  as  presents  to  the  admiral.  He 
then  drew  off,  and  talked  with  Columbus  from  a 
distance.  He  told  him  that  he  was  sent  by  the 
governor  to  express  his  great  concern  at  his  mis- 
fortunes, and  his  regret  at  not  having  in  port  a 
vessel  of  sufficient  size  to  bring  off  himself  and  his 
people,  but  that  he  would  send  one  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. Escobar  gave  the  admiral  assurances  like- 
wise that  his  concerns  in  Hispaniola  had  been 
faithfully  attended  to.  He  requested  him,  if  he 
had  any  letter  to  write  to  the  governor  in  reply,  to 
give  it  to  him  as  soon  as  possible,  as  he  wished  to 
return  immediately. 

There  was  something  extremely  singular  in 
this  mission,  but  there  was  no  time  for  comments, 
Escobar  was  urgent  to  depart.  Columbus 
hastened,  therefore,  to  write  a  reply  to  Ovando, 
depicting  the  dangers  and  distresses  of  his  situa- 
tion, increased  as  they  were  by  the  rebellion  of 
Porras,  but  expressing  his  reliance  on  his  promise 
to  send  him  relief,  confiding  in  which  he  should 
remain  patiently  on  board  of  his  wreck.  He 
recommended  Diego  Mendez  and  Bartholomew 
Fiesco  to  his  favor,  assuring  him  that  they  were 
not  sent  to  San  Domingo  with  any  artful  design, 
but  simply  to  represent  his  perilous  situation,  and 
to  apply  for  succor.}  When  Escobar  received 
this  letter,  he  returned  immediately  on  board  of 
his  vessel,  which  made  all  sail,  and  soon  disap- 
peared in  the  gathering  gloom  of  the  night. 

If  the  Spaniards  had  hailed  the  arrival  of  this 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  104. 

f  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  33. 

j  Ibid.,  cap.  34. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS: 


209 


vessel  with  transport,  its  sudden  departure  and 
the  mysterious  conduct  of  Escobar  inspired  no  less 
wonder  and  consternation.  He  had  kept  aloof 
from  all  communication  with  them,  as  if  he  felt  no 
interest  in  their  welfare,  or  sympathy  in  their  mis- 
fortunes. Columbus  saw  the  gloom  that  had 
gathered  in  their  countenances,  and  feared  the 
consequences.  He  eagerly  sought,  therefore,  to 
dispel  their  suspicions,  professing  himself  satisfied 
with  the  communications  received  from  Ovando, 
and  assuring  them  that  vessels  would  soon  arrive 
to  take  them  all  away.  In  confidence  of  this,  he 
said,  he  had  declined  to  depart  with  Escobar, 
because  his  vessel  was  too  small  to  take  the  whole, 
preferring  to  remain  with  them  and  share  their 
lot,  and  had  dispatched  the  caravel  in  such  haste 
that  no  time  might  be  lost  in  expediting  the  neces- 
sary ships.  These  assurances,  and  the  certainty 
that  their  situation  was  known  in  San  Domingo, 
cheered  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Their  hopes 
again  revived,  and  the  conspiracy,  which  had 
been  on  the  point  of  breaking  forth,  was  complete- 
ly disconcerted. 

In  secret,  however,  Columbus  was  exceedingly 
indignant  at  the  conduct  of  Ovando.  He  had  left 
him  for  many  months  in  a  state  of  the  utmost  dan- 
ger, and  most  distressing  uncertainty,  exposed  to 
the  hostilities  of  the  natives,  the  seditions  of  his 
men,  and  the  suggestions  of  his  own  despair.  He 
had,  at  length,  sent  a  mere  tantalizing  message,  by 
a  man  known  to  be  one  of  his  bitterest  enemies, 
with  a  present  of  food,  which,  from  its  scantiness, 
seemed  intended  to  mock  their  necessities. 

Columbus  believed  that  Ovando  had  purposely 
neglected  him,  hoping  that  he  might  perish  on  the 
island,  being  apprehensive  that,  should  he  return 
in  safety,  he  would  be  reinstated  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Hispaniola  ;  an  d  he  considered  Escobar 
merely  as  a  spy  sent  to  ascertain  the  state  of  him- 
self and  his  crew,  and  whether  they  were  yet  in 
existence.  Las  Casas,  who  was  then  at  San  Do- 
mingo, expresses  similar  suspicions.  He  says 
that  Escobar  was  chosen  because  Ovando  was 
certain  that,  from  ancient  enmity,  he  would  have 
no  sympathy  for  the  admiral.  That  he  was  or- 
dered not  to  go  on  board  of  the  vessels,  nor  to 
land,  neither  was  he  to  hold  conversation  with 
any  of  the  crew,  nor  to  receive  any  letters,  except 
those  of  the  admiral.  In  a  word,  that  he  was  a 
mere  scout  to  collect  information.* 

Others  have  ascribed  the  long  neglect  of  Ovando 
to  extreme  caution.  There  was  a  rumor  prevalent 
that  Columbus,  irritated  at  the  suspension  of  his 
dignities  by  the  court  of  Spain,  intended  to  trans- 
fer his  newly-discovered  countries  into  the  hands 
of  his  native  republic  Genoa,  or  of  some  other 
power.  Such  rumors  had  long  been  current,  an_l 
to  their  recent  circulation  Columbus  himself  al- 
ludes in  his  letter  sent  to  the  sovereigns  by  Diego 
Mendez.  The  most  plausible  apology  given  is, 
that  Ovando  was  absent  for  several  months  in  the 
interior,  occupied  in  wars  with  the  natives,  and 
that  there  were  no  ships  at  San  Domingo  of  suffi- 
cient burden  to  take  Columbus  and  his  crew  to 
Spain.  He  may  have  feared  that,  should  they 
come  to  reside  for  any  length  of  time  on  the  island, 
either  the  admiral  would  interfere  in  public  affairs, 
or  endeavor  to  make  a  party  in  his  favor  ;  or  that, 
in  consequence  of  the  number  of  his  old  enemies 
still  resident  there,  former  scenes  of  faction  and 
turbulence  might  be  revived. t  In  the  mean  time 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  33.     Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  103. 

f  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup.    Hist,  del  Almirante,  ubi  sup. 


the  situation  of  Columbus  in  Jamaica,  while  it  dis- 
posed of  him  quietly  until  vessels  should  arrive 
from  Spain,  could  not,  he  may  have  thought,  be 
hazardous.  He  had  sufficient  force  and  arms  for 
defence,  and  he  had  made  amicable  arrangements 
with  the  natives  for  the  supply  of  provisions,  as 
Diego  Mendez,  who  had  made  those  arrange- 
ments, had  no  doubt  informed  him.  Such  may 
have  been  the  reasoning  by  which  Ovando,  under 
the  real  influence  of  his  interest,  may  have  recon- 
ciled his  conscience  to  a  measure  which  excited 
the  strong  reprobation  of  his  contemporaries,  and 
has  continued  to  draw  upon  him  the  suspicions  of 
mankind. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VOYAGE  OF  DIEGO  MENDEZ    AND    BARTHOLOMEW 
FIESCO   IN  A  CANOE  TO  HISPANIOLA. 

[1504.] 

IT  is  proper  to  give  here  some  account  of  the 
mission  of  Diego  Mendez  and  Bartholomew  Fi- 
esco,  and  of  the  circumstances  which  prevented 
the  latter  from  returning  to  Jamaica.  Having 
taken  leave  of  the  Adelantado  at  the  east  end  of  the 
island,  they  continued  all  day  in  a  direct  course, 
animating  the  Indians  who  navigated  their  canoes, 
and  who  frequently  paused  at  their  labor.  There 
was  no  wind,  the  sky  was  without  a  cloud,  and 
the  sea  perfectly  calm  ;  the  heat  was  intolerable, 
and  the  rays  of  the  sun  reflected  from  the  surface 
of  the  ocean  seemed  to  scorch  their  very  eyes. 
The  Indians,  exhausted  by  heat  and  toil,  would 
often  leap  into  the  water  to  cool  and  refresh  them- 
selves, and,  after  remaining  there  a  short  time, 
would  return  with  new  vigor  to  their  labors.  At 
the  going  down  of  the  sun  they  lost  sight  of  land. 
During  the  night  the  Indians  took  turns,  one  half 
to  row  while  the  others  slept.  The  Spaniards,  in 
like  manner,  divided  their  forces  :  while  one  half 
took  repose  the  others  kept  guard  with  their  weap- 
ons in  hand,  ready  to  defend  themselves  in  case 
of  any  perfidy  on  the  part  of  their  savage  compan- 
ions. 

Watching  and  toiling  in  this  way  through  the 
night,  they  were  exceedingly  fatigued  at  the  return 
of  day.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  sea  and  sky. 
Their  frail  canoes,  heaving  up  and  down  with  tlie 
swelling  and  sinking  of  the  ocean,  seemed  scarce- 
ly capable  of  sustaining  the  broad  undulations  of 
a  calm  ;  how  would  they  be  able  to  live  amid 
waves  and  surges,  should  the  wind  arise  ?  The 
commanders  did  all  they  could  to  keep  up  the 
flagging  spirits  of  the  men.  Sometimes  they  per- 
mitted them  a  respite  ;  at  other  times  they  took 
the  paddles  and  shared  their  toils.  But  labor  and 
fatigue  were  soon  forgotten  in  a  new  source  of 
suffering.  During  the  preceding  sultry  day  and 
night,  the  Indians,  parched  and  fatigued,  had 
drunk  up  all  the  water.  They  now  began  to  ex- 
perience the  torments  of  thirst.  In  proportion 
as  the  day  advanced,  their  thirst  increased  ;  the 
calm,  which  favored  the  navigation  of  the  canoes, 
rendered  this  misery  the  more  intense.  There 
was  not  a  breeze  to  fan  the  air,  nor  counteract 
the  ardent  rays  of  a  tropical  sun.  Their  sufferings 
were  irritated  by  the  prospect  around  them — noth- 
ing but  water,  while  they  were  perishing  with 
thirst.  At  mid-day  their  strength  failed  them, 
and  they  could  work  no  longer.  Fortunately,  at 
this  time  the  commanders  of  the  canoes  found,  or 
pretended  to  find,  two  small  kegs  of  water,  which 


210 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


they  had  perhaps  secretly  reserved  for  such  an  ex- 
tremity. Administering  the  precious  contents 
from  time  to  time,  in  sparing  mouthfuls  to  their 
companions,  and  particularly  to  the  laboring  In- 
dians, they  enabled  them  to  resume  their  toils. 
They  cheered  them  with  the  hopes  of  soon  arriv- 
ing at  a  small  island  called  Navasa,  which  lay 
directly  in  their  way,  and  was  only  eight  leagues 
from  Hispaniola.  Here  they  would  be  able  to  pro- 
cure water,  and  might  take  repose. 

For  the  rest  of  the  day  they  continued  faintly 
and  wearily  laboring  forward,  and  keeping  an 
anxious  look-out  for  the  island.  The  day  passed 
away,  the  sun  went  down,  yet  there  was  no  sign 
of  land,  not  even  a  cloud  on  the  horizon  that  might 
deceive  them  into  a  hope.  According  to  their  cal- 
culations, they  had  certainly  come  the  distance 
from  Jamaica  at  which  Navasa  lay.  They  began 
to  fear  that  they  had  deviated  from  their  course. 
If  so,  they  should  miss  the  island  entirely,  and 
perish  with  thirst  before  they  could  reach  His- 
paniola. 

The  night  closed  upon  them  without  any  sight 
of  the  island.  They  now  despaired  of  touching  at 
it,  for  it  was  so  small  and  low  that,  even  if  they 
were  to  pass  near,  they  would  scarcely  be  able  to 
perceive  it  in  the  dark.  One  of  the  Indians  sank 
and  died,  under  the  accumulated  sufferings  of 
labor,  heat,  and  raging  thirst.  His  body  was 
thrown  into  the  sea.  Others  lay  panting  and 
gasping  at  the  bottom  of  the  canoes.  Their  com- 
panions, troubled  in  spirit,  and  exhausted  in 
strength,  feebly  continued  their  toils.  Sometimes 
they  endeavored  to  cool  their  parched  palates  by 
taking  sea-water  in  their  mouths,  but  its  briny- 
acrimony  rather  increased  their  thirst.  Now  and 
then,  but  very  sparingly,  they  were  allowed  a  drop 
of  water  from  the  kegs  ;  but  this  was  only  in  cases 
of  the  utmost  extremity,  and  principally  to  those 
who  were  employed  in  rowing.  The  night  had  far 
advanced,  but  those  whose  turn  it  was  10  take  re- 
pose were  unable  to  sleep,  from  the  intensity  of  their 
thirst ;  or  if  they  slept,  it  was  but  to  be  tantalized 
by  dreams  of  cool  fountains  and  running  brooks, 
and  to  awaken  in  redoubled  torment.  The  last 
drop  of  water  had  been  dealt  out  to  the  Indian 
rowers,  but  it  only  served  to  irritate  their  suffer- 
ings. They  scarce  could  move  their  paddles  ;  one 
after  another  gave  up,  and  it  seemed  impossible 
they  should  live  to  reach  Hispaniola. 

The  commanders,  by  admirable  management, 
had  hitherto  kept  up  this  weary  struggle  with 
suffering  and  despair  :  they  now,  too,  began  to 
despond.  Diego  Mendez  sat  watching  the  horizon, 
which  was  gradually  lighting  up  with  those  faint 
rays  which  precede  the  rising  of  the  moon.  As 
that  planet  rose,  he  perceived  it  to  emerge  from  be- 
hind some  dark  mass  elevated  above  the  level  of 
the  ocean.  He  immediately  gave  the  animating 
cry  of  "  land  !"  His  almost  expiring  companions 
were  roused  by  it  to  new  life.  It  proved  to  be  the 
island  of  Navasa,  but  so  small,  and  low,  and  dis- 
tant, that  had  it  not  been  thus  revealed  by  the  ris- 
ing of  the  moon,  they  would  never  have  discov- 
ered it.  The  error  in  their  reckoning  with  respect 
to  the  island  had  arisen  from  miscalculating  the 
rate  of  sailing  of  the  canoes,  and  from  not  making 
sufficient  allowance  for  the  fatigue  of  the  rowers 
and  the  opposition  of  the  current. 

New  vigor  was  now  diffused  throughout  the 
crews.  They  exerted  themselves  with  feverish 
impatience  ;  by  the  dawn  of  day  they  reached  the 
land,  and,  springing  on  shore,  returned  thanks  to 
God  for  such  signal  deliverance.  The  island  was 
a  mere  mass  of  rocks  half  a  league  in  circuit. 


There  was  neither  tree,  nor  shrub,  nor  herbage, 
nor  stream,  nor  fountain.  Hurrying  about,  how- 
ever, with  anxious  search,  they  found  to  their  joy 
abundance  of  rain-water  in  the  hollows  of  the 
rocks.  Eagerly  scooping  it  up,  with  their  cala- 
bashes, they  quenched  their  burning  thirst  by  im- 
moderate draughts.  In  vain  the  more  prudent 
warned  the  others  of  their  danger.  The  Span- 
iards were  in  some  degree  restrained  ;  but  the 
poor  Indians,  whose  toils  had  increased  the  fever 
of  their  thirst,  gave  way  to  a  kind  of  frantic  indul- 
gence. Several  died  upon  the  spot,  and  others 
tell  dangerously  ill.* 

Having  allayed  their  thirst,  they  now  looked 
about  in  search  of  food.  A  few  shell-fish  were 
found  along  the  shore,  and  Diego  Mendez,  strik- 
ing a  light,  and  gathering  drift-wood,  they  were 
enabled  to  boil  them,  and  to  make  a  delicious 
banquet.  All  day  they  remained  reposing  in  the 
shade  of  the  rocks,  refreshing  themselves  after 
their  intolerable  sufferings,  and  gazing  upon  His- 
paniola, whose  mountains  rose  above  the  horizon, 
at  eight  leagues'  distance. 

In  the  cool  of  the  evening  they  once  more  em- 
barked, invigorated  by  repose,  and  arrived  safely 
at  Cape  Tiburon  on  the  following  day,  the  fourth 
since  their  departure  from  Jamaica.  Here  they 
landed  on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful  river,  where 
they  were  kindly  received  and  treated  by  the  na- 
tives. Such  are  the  particulars,  collected  from 
different  sources,  of  this  adventurous  and  in- 
teresting voyage,  on  the  precarious  success 
of  which  depended  the  deliverance  of  Colum- 
bus and  his  crews.f  The  voyagers  remained 
for  two  days  among  the  hospitable  natives  on 
the  banks  of  the  river  to  refresh  themselves. 
Fiesco  would  have  returned  to  Jamaica,  accord- 
ing to  promise,  to  give  assurance  to  the  ad- 
miral and  his  companions  of  the  safe  arrival  of 
their  messenger  ;  but  both  Spaniards  and  Indians 
had  suffered  so  much  during  the  voyage,  that 
nothing  could  induce  them  to  encounter  the  perils 
of  a  return  in  the  canoes. 

Parting  with  his  companions,  Diego  Mendez 
took  six  Indians  of  the  island,  and  set  off  resolute- 
ly to  coast  in  his  canoe  one  hundred  and  thirty 
leagues  to  San  Domingo.  After  proceeding  for 
eighty  leagues,  with  infinite  toil,  always  against 
the  currents,  and  subject  to  perils  from  the  native 
tribes,  he  was  informed  that  the  governor  had  de- 
parted for  Xaragua,  fifty  leagues  distant.  Still 
undaunted  by  fatigues  and  difficulties,  he  aban- 
doned his  canoe,  and  proceeded  alone  and  on 
foot  through  forests  and  over  mountains,  until  he 
arrived  at  Xaragua,  achieving  one  of  the  most 
perilous  expeditions  ever  undertaken  by  a  devoted 
follower  for  the  safety  of  his  commander. 

Ovando  received  him  with  great  kindness,  ex- 
pressing the  utmost  concern  at  the  unfortunate 
situation  of  Columbus.  He  made  many  promises 
of  sending  immediate  relief,  but  suffered  day, 
week  after  week,  and  even  month  after  month  to 
elapse,  without  carrying  his  promises  into  effect. 
He  was  at  that  time  completely  engrossed  by  wars 
with  the  natives,  and  had  a  ready  plea  that  there 
were  no  ships  of  sufficient  burden  at  San  Domingo. 


*  Not  far  from  the  island  of  Navasa  there  gushes 
up  in  the  sea  a  pure  fountain  of  fresh  water  that 
sweetens  the  surface  for  some  distance  ;  this  circum- 
stance was  of  course  unknown  to  the  Spaniards  at  the 
time.  (Oviedo,  Cronica,  lib.  vi.  cap.  12.) 

f  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  105.  Las  Casas,  lib. 
ii.  cap.  31.  Testament  of  Diego  Mendez.  Navarrete, 
torn.  i.  —  — 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


211 


Had  he  felt  a  proper  zeal,  however,  for  the  safety 
of  a  man  like  Columbus,  it  would  have  been  easy, 
within  eight  months,  to  have  devised  some  means, 
if  not  of  delivering  him  from  his  situation,  at 
least  of  conveying  to  him  ample  reinforcements 
and  supplies. 

The  faithful  Menclez  remained  for  seven  months 
in  Xaragua,  detained  there  under  various  pretexts 
by  Ovanclo,  who  was  unwilling  that  he  should 
proceed  to  San  Domingo  ;  partly,  as  is  intimated, 
from  his  having  some  jealousy  of  his  being  em- 
ployed in  secret  agency  for  the  admiral,  and  part- 
ly from  a  desire  to  throw  impediments  in  the  way 
of  his  obtaining  the  required  relief.  At  length, 
by  daily  importunity,  he  obtained  permission  to 
go  to  San  Domingo  and  await  the  arrival  of  cer- 
tain ships  which  were  expected,  of  which  he  pro- 
posed to  purchase  one  on  the  account  of  the  ad- 
miral. He  immediately  set  out  on  foot  a  distance 
of  seventy  leagues,  part  of  his  toilsome  journey 
lying  through  forests  and  among  mountains  in- 
fested by  hostile  and  exasperated  Indians.  It 
was  after  his  departure  that  Ovando  dispatched 
the  caravel  commanded  by  the  pardoned  rebel 
Escobar,  on  that  singular  and  equivocal  visit, 
which,  in  the  eyes  of  Columbus,  had  the  air  of  a 
mere  scouting  expedition  to  spy  into  the  camp  of 
an  enemy. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OVERTURES  OF  COLUMBUS  TO  THE  MUTINEERS- 
BATTLE  OF  THE  ADELANTADO  WITH  PORRAS 
AND  HIS  FOLLOWERS. 

[1503.] 

WHEX  Columbus  had  soothed  the  disappoint- 
ment of  his  men  at  the  brief  and  unsatisfactory  visit 
and  sudden  departure  of  Escobar,  he  endeavored 
to  turn  the  event  to  some  advantage  with  the 
rebels.  He  knew  them  to  be  disheartened  by  the 
inevitable  miseries  attending  a  lawless  and  disso- 
lute life  ;  that  many  longed  to  return  to  the  safe 
and  quiet  path  of  duty  ;  and  that  the  most  malig- 
nant, seeing  how  he  had  foiled  all  their  intrigues 
among  the  natives  to  produce  a  famine,  began  to 
fear  his  ultimate  triumph  and  consequent  ven- 
geance. A  favorable  opportunity,  he  thought, 
now  presented  to  take  advantage  of  these  feelings, 
and  by  gentle  means  to  bring  them  back  to  their 
allegiance.  He  sent  two  of  his  people,  therefore, 
who  were  most  intimate  with  the  rebels,  to  inform 
them  of  the  recent  arrival  of  Escobar  with  letters 
from  the  Governor  of  Hispaniola,  promising  him 
a  speedy  deliverance  from  the  island.  He  now  of- 
fered a  free  pardon,  kind  treatment,  and  a  passage 
with  him  in  the  expected  ships,  on  condition  of  their 
immediate  return  to  obedience.  To  convince 
them  of  the  arrival  of  the  vessel,  he  sent  them  a 
part  of  the  bacon  which  had  been  brought  by  Es- 
cobar. 

On  the  approach  of  these  ambassadors,  Fran- 
cisco de  Porras  came  forth  to  meet  them,  accom- 
panied solely  by  a  few  of  the  ringleaders  oi  his 
party.  He  imagined  that  there  might  be  some 
propositions  from  the  admiral,  and  he  was  fearful 
of  their  being  heard  by  the  mass  of  his  people, 
who,  in  their  dissatisfied  and  repentant  mood, 
would  be  likely  to  desert  him  on  the  least  prospect 
of  pardon.  Having  listened  to  the  tidings  and 
overtures  brought  by  the  messengers,  he  and  hfs 
confidential  confederates  consulted  for  some  time 
together.  Perfidious  in  their  own  nature,  they 


suspected  the  sincerity  of  the  admiral  ;  and  con- 
scious of  the  extent  of  their  offences,  doubted  his 
having  the  magnanimity  to  pardon  them.  Deter- 
mined, therefore,  not  to  confide  in  his  proffered 
amnesty,  they  replied  to  the  messengers  that  they 
had  no  wish  to  return  to  the  ships,  but  preferred 
living  at  large  about  the  island.  They  offered  to 
engage,  however,  to  conduct  themselves  peace- 
ably and  amicably,  on  receiving  a  solemn  promise 
from  the  admiral,  that  should  two  vessels  arrive, 
they  should  have  one  to  depart  in  ;  should  but 
one  arrive,  that  half  of  it  should  be  granted  to 
them  ;  and  that,  moreover,  the  admiral  should 
share  with  them  the  stores  and  articles  of  Indian 
traffic  remaining  in  the  ships  ;  having  lost  all  that 
they  had,  in  the  sea.  These  demands  were  pro- 
nounced extravagant  and  inadmissible,  upon 
which  they  replied  insolently  that,  if  they  were 
not  peaceably  conceded,  they  would  take  them  by 
force  ;  and  with  this  menace  they  dismissed  the 
ambassadors.* 

This  conference  was  not  conducted  so  privately 
but  that  the  rest  of  the  rebels  learnt  the  purport  of 
the  mission  ;  and  the  offer  of  pardon  and  deliv- 
erance occasioned  great  tumult  and  agitation. 
Porras,  fearful  of  their  desertion,  assured  them 
that  these  offers  of  the  admiral  were  all  deceitful  ; 
that  he  was  naturally  cruel  and  vindictive,  and  only- 
sought  to  get  them  into  his  power  to  wreak  on 
them  his  vengeance.  He  exhorted  them  to  persist 
in  their  opposition  to  his  tyranny  ;  reminding 
them  that  those  who  had  formerly  done  so  in  His- 
paniola had  eventually  triumphed,  and  sent  him 
home  in  irons  ;  he  assured  them  that  they  might 
do  the  same,  and  again  made  vaunting  promises 
of  protection  in  Spain,  through  the  influence  of 
his  relatives.  But  the  boldest  of  his  assertions  was 
with  respect  to  the  caravel  of  Escobar.  It  shows 
the  ignorance  of  the  age,  and  the  superstitious 
awe  which  the  common  people  entertained  with 
respect  to  Columbus  and  his  astronomical  knowl- 
edge. Porras  assured  them  that  no  real  caravel 
had  arrived,  but  a  mere  phantasm  conjured  up  by 
the  admiral,  who  was  deeply  versed  in  necro- 
mancy. In  proof  of  this  he  adverted  to  its  arriv- 
ing in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  ;  its  holding  com- 
munication with  no  one  but  the  admiral,  and  its 
sudden  disappearance  in  the  night.  Had  it  been 
a  real  caravel,  the  crew  would  have  sought  to 
talk  with  their  countrymen  ;  the  admiral,  his  son, 
and  brother,  would  have  eagerly  embarked  on 
board,  and  it  would  at  any  rate  have  remained  a 
little  while  in  port,  and  not  have  vanished  so  sud- 
denly and  mysteriously.f 

By  these  and  similar  delusions  Porras  suc- 
ceeded in  working  upon  the  feelings  and  credulity 
of  his  followers.  Fearful,  however,  that  they 
might  yield  to  after  reflection,  and  to  further  offers 
from  the  admiral,  he  determined  to  involve  them 
in  some  act  of  violence  which  would  commit  them 
beyond  all  hopes  of  forgiveness.  He  marched 
them,  therefore,  to  an  Indian  village  called 
Maima,|  about  a  quarter  of  a  league  from  the 
ships,  intending  to  plunder  the  stores  remaining 
on  board  the  wreck,  and  to  take  the  admiral  pris- 
oner.^ 

Columbus  had  notice  of  the  designs  of  the  reb- 
els, and  of  their  approach.  Being  confined  by 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  35.  Hist,  del  Almirante, 
cap.  106. 

t  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  106.  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii. 
cap.  35- 

J  At  present  Mammee  Bay. 

§  Hist,  del  Almirante,  ubi  sup. 


212 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


his  infirmities,  he  sent  his  brother  to  endeavor  with 
mild  words  to  persuade  them  from  their  purpose, 
and  win  them  to  obedience  ;  but  with  sufficient 
force  to  resist  any  violence.  The  Adelantado, 
who  was  a  man  rather  of  deeds  than  of  words, 
took  with  him  fifty  followers,  men  of  tried  resolu- 
tion, and  ready  to  fight  in  any  cause.  They  were 
well  armed  and  full  of  courage,  though  many 
were  pale  and  debilitated  from  recent  sickness, 
and  from  long  confinement  to  the  ships.  Arriv- 
ing on  the  side  of  a  hill,  within  a  bow-shot  of 
the  village,  the  Adelantado  discovered  the  rebels, 
and  dispatched  the  same  two  messengers  to  treat 
with  them,  who  had  already  carried  them  the 
offer  of  pardon.  Porras  and  his  fellow-leaders, 
however,  would  not  permit  them  to  approach. 
They  confided  in  the  superiority  of  their  num- 
bers, and  in  their  men  being,  for  the  most  part, 
hardy  sailors,  rendered  robust  and  vigorous  by 
the  roving  life  they  had  been  leading  in  the  forests 
and  the  open  air.  They  knew  that  many  of  those 
who  were  with  the  Adelantado  were  men  brought 
up  in  a  softer  mode  of  life.  They  pointed  to  their 
pale  countenances,  and  persuaded  their  followers 
that  they  were  mere  household  men,  fair-weather 
troops,  who  could  never  stand  before  them. 
They  did  not  reflect  that,  with  such  men,  pride 
and  lofty  spirit  often  more  than  supply  the  place 
of  bodily  force,  and  they  forgot  that  their  adver- 
saries had  the  incalculable  advantage  of  justice 
and  law  upon  their  side.  Deluded  by  their 
words,  their  followers  were  excited  to  a  transient 
glow  of  courage,  and  brandishing  their  weapons, 
refused  to  listen  to  the  messengers. 

Six  of  the  stoutest  rebels  made  a  league  to  stand 
by  one  another  and  attack  the  Adelantado  ;  for, 
he  being  killed,  the  rest  would  be  easily  defeated. 
The  main  body  formed  themselves  into  a  squad- 
ron, drawing  their  swords  and  shaking  their 
lances.  They  did  not  wait  to  be  assailed,  but, 
uttering  shouts  and  menaces,  rushed  upon  the 
enemy.  They  were  so  well  received,  however, 
that  at  the  first  shock  four  or  five  were  killed, 
most  of  them  the  confederates  who  had  leagued  to 
attack  the  Adelantado.  The  latter,  with  his  own 
hand,  killed  Juan  Sanchez,  the  same  powerful 
mariner  who  had  carried  off  the  cacique  Quibi- 
an  ;  and  Juan  Barber  also,  who  had  first  drawn 
a  sword  against  the  admiral  in  this  rebellion. 
The  Adelantado  with  his  usual  vigor  and  courage 
was  dealing  his  blows  about  him  in  the  thickest 
of  the  affray,  where  several  lay  killed  and  wound- 
ed, when  he  was  assailed  by  Francisco  de  Porras. 
The  rebel  with  a  blow  of  his  sword  cleft  the  buck- 
ler of  Don  Bartholomew,  and  wounded  the  hand 
which  grasped  it.  The  sword  remained  wedged 
.in  the  shield,  and  before  Porras  could  withdraw 
it  the  Adelantado  closed  upon  him,  grappled 
him,  and,  being  assisted  by  others,  after  a  severe 
struggle  took  him  prisoner.* 

When  the  rebels  beheld  their  leader  a  captive, 
their  transient  courage  was  at  an  end,  and  they 
fled  in  confusion.  The  Adelantado  would  have 
pursued  them,  but  was  persuaded  to  let  them  es- 
cape with  the  punishment  they  had  received  ;  es- 
pecially as  it  was  necessary  to  guard  against  the 
possibility  of  an  attack  from  the  Indians. 

The  latter  had  taken  arms  and  drawn  up  in 
battle  array,  gazing  with  astonishment  at  this 
fight  between  white  men,  but  without  taking  part 
on  either  side.  When  the  battle  was  over,  they 
approached  the  field,  gazing  upon  the  dead  bod- 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  107.     Las  Casas,  Hist. 
Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  35.- . 


ies  of  the  beings  they  had  once  fancied  immortal. 
They  were  curious  in  examining  the  wounds 
made  by  the  Christian  weapons.  Among  the 
wounded  insurgents  was  Pedro  Ledesma.  the 
same  pilot  who  so  bravely  swam  ashore  at  Vera- 
gua,  to  procure  tidings  of  the  colony.  He  was  a 
man  of  prodigious  muscular  force  and  a  hoarse, 
deep  voice.  As  the  Indians,  who  thought  him 
dead,  were  inspecting  the  wounds  with  which  he 
was  literally  covered,  he  suddenly  uttered  an 
ejaculation  in  his  tremendous  voice,  at  the  sound 
of  which  the  savages  fled  in  dismay.  This  man, 
having  fallen  into  a  cleft  or  ravine,  was  not  dis- 
covered by  the  white  men  until  the  dawning  of 
the  following  day,  having  remained  all  that  time 
without  a  drop  of  water.  The  number  and  se- 
verity of  the  wounds  he  is  said  to  have  received 
would  seem  incredible,  but  they  are  mentioned 
by  Fernando  Columbus,  who  was  an  eye-witness, 
and  by  Las  Casas,  who  had  the  account  from 
Ledesma  himself.  For  want  of  proper  remedies 
his  wounds  were  treated  in  the  roughest  manner, 
yet,  through  the  aid  of  a  vigorous  constitution,  he 
completely  recovered.  Las  Casas  conversed  with 
him  several  years  afterward  at  Seville,  when  he 
obtained  from  him  various  particulars  concerning 
this  voyage  of  Columbus.  Some  few  days  after 
this  conversation,  however,  he  heard  that  Le- 
desma had  fallen  under  the  knife  of  an  assassin.* 

The  Adelantado  returned  in  triumph  to  the 
ships,  where  he  was  received  by  the  admiral  in 
the  most  affectionate  manner  ;  thanking  him  as 
his  deliverer.  He  brought  Porras  and  several  of 
his  followers  prisoners.  Of  his  own  party  only 
two  had  been  wounded  ;  himself  in  the  hand,  and 
the  admiral's  steward,  who  had  received  an  ap- 
parently slight  wound  with  a  lance,  equal  to  one 
of  the  most  insignificant  of  those  with  which  Le- 
desma was  covered  ;  yet,  in  spite  of  careful 
treatment,  he  died. 

On  the  next  day,  the  2Oth  of  May,  the  fugitives 
sent  a  petition  to  the  admiral,  signed  with  all 
their  names,  in  which,  says  Las  Casas,  they  con- 
fessed all  their  misdeeds  and  cruelties,  and  evil 
intentions,  supplicating  the  admiral  to  have  pity 
on  them  and  pardon  them  for  their  rebellion,  for 
which  God  had  already  punished  them.  They 
offered  to  return  to  their  obedience,  and  to  serve 
him  faithfully  in  future,  making  an  oath  to 
that  effect  upon  a  cross  and  a  missal,  accom- 
panied by  an  imprecation  worthy  of  being  re- 
corded :  "  They  hoped,  should  they  break  their 
oath,  that  no  priest  nor  other  Christian  might 
ever  confess  them  ;  that  repentance  might  be  of 
no  avail  ;  that  they  might  be  deprived  ot  the  holy 
sacraments  of  the  church  ;  that  at  their  death 
they  might  receive  no  benefit  from  bulls  nor  in- 
dulgences ;  that  their  bodies  might  be  cast  out 
into  the  fields,  like  those  of  heretics  and  rene- 
gadoes,  instead  of  being  buried  in  holy  ground  ; 
and  that  they  might  not  receive  absolution  from 
the  pope,  nor  from  cardinals,  nor  archbishops, 
nor  bishops,  nor  any  other  Christian  priests,  "f 
Such  were  the  awful  imprecations  by  which  these 
men  endeavored  to  add  validity  to  an  oath.  The 
worthlessness  of  a  man's  word  may  always  be 
known  by  the  extravagant  means  he  uses  to  en- 
force it. 

The  admiral  saw,  by  the  abject  nature  of  this 
petition,  how  completely  the  spirit  of  these  mis- 
guided men  was  broken  ;  with  his  wonted  mag- 
nanimity, he  readily  granted  their  prayer,  and  par- 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  35. 
f  Ibid.,  cap.  32. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


213 


cloned  their  offences  ;  but  on  one  condition,  that 
their  ringleader,  Francisco  Porras,  should  remain 
a  prisoner. 

As  it  was  difficult  to  maintain  so  many  persons 
on  board  of  the  ships,  and  as  quarrels  might  take 
place  between  persons  who  had  so  recently  been 
at  blows,  Columbus  put  the  late  followers  of  Por- 
ras under  the  command  of  a  discreet  and  faithful 
man  ;  and  giving  in  his  charge  a  quantity  of  Euro- 
pean articles  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  food 
of  the  natives,  directed  him  to  forage  about  the 
island  until  the  expected  vessels  should  arrive. 

At  length,  after  a  long  year  of  alternate  hope 
and  despondency,  the  doubts  of  the  Spaniards 
were  joyfully  dispelled  by  the  sight  of  two  vessels 
standing  into  the  harbor.  One  proved  to  be  a 
ship  hired  and  well  victualled,  at  the  expense  of 
the  admiral,  by  the  faithful  and  indefatigable  Di- 
ego Mendez  ;  the  other  had  been  subsequently 
fitted  out  by  Ovando,  and  put  under  the  command 


of  Diego  de  Salcedo,  the  admiral's  agent  employ- 
ed to  collect  his  rents  in  San  Domingo. 

The  long  neglect  of  Ovando  to  attend  to  the  re- 
lief of  Columbus  had,  it  seems,  roused  the  public 
indignation,  insomuch  that  animadversions  hac! 
been  made  upon  his  conduct  even  in  the  pulpits. 
This  is  affirmed  by  Las  Casas,  who  was  at  San 
Domingo  at  the  time.  If  the  governor  had  really 
entertained  hopes  that,  during  the  delay  of  relief, 
Columbus  might  perish  in  the  island,  the  report 
brought  back  by  Escobar  must  have  completely 
disappointed  him.  No  time  was  to  be  lost  if  he 
wished  to  claim  any  merit  in  his  deliverance,  or 
to  avoid  the  disgrace  of  having  totally  neglected 
him.  He  exerted  himself,  therefore,  at  the  elev- 
enth hour,  and  dispatched  a  caravel  at  the  same 
time  with  the  ship  sent  by  Diego  Mendez.  The 
latter  having  faithfully  discharged  this  part  of  his 
mission,  and  seen  the  ships  depart,  proceeded  to 
Spain  on  the  further  concerns  of  the  admiral.* 


BOOK  XVII. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ADMINISTRATION    OF   OVANDO  IN  HISPANIOLA — 
OPPRESSION  OF  THE  NATIVES. 

[1503.] 

BEFORE  relating  the  return  of  Columbus  to 
Hispaniola,  it  is  proper  to  notice  some  of  the  prin- 
cipal occurrences  which  took  place  in  that  island 
under  the  government  of  Ovando.  A  great  crowd 
of  adventurers  of  various  ranks  had  thronged  his 
fleet — eager  speculators,  credulous  dreamers,  and 
broken-down  gentlemen  of  desperate  fortunes  ; 
all  expecting  to  enrich  themselves  suddenly  in  an 
island  where  gold  was  to  be  picked  up  from  the 
surface  of  the  soil  or  gathered  from  the  mountain 
brooks.  They  had  scarcely  landed,  says  Las 
Casas,  who  accompanied  the  expedition,  when 
they  all  hurried  off  to  the  mines,  about  eight 
leagues  distance.  The  roads  swarmed  like  ant- 
hills, with  adventurers  of  all  classes.  Every  one 
had  his  knapsack  stored  with  biscuit  or  flour,  and 
his  mining  implements  on  his  shoulders.  Those 
hildagos,  or  gentlemen,  who  had  no  servants  to 
carry  their  burdens,  bore  them  on  their  own  backs, 
and  "lucky  was  he  who  had  a  horse  for  the  jour- 
ney ;  he  would  be  able  to  bring  back  the  greater 
load  of  treasure.  They  all  set  out  in  high  spirits, 
eager  who  should  first  reach  the  golden  land  ; 
thinking  they  had  but  to  arrive  at  the  mines  and 
collect  riches;  "for  they  fancied,"  says  Las 
Casas,  "  that  gold  was  to  be  gathered  as  easily 
and  readily  as  fruit  from  the  trees."  When  they 
arrived,  however,  they  discovered,  to  their  dis- 
may, that  it  was  necessary  to  dig  painfully  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth — a  labor  to  which  most 
of  them  had  never  been  accustomed  ;  that  it  re- 
quired experience  and  sagacity  to  detect  the  veins 
of  ore  ;  that,  in  fact,  the  whole  process  of  mining 
was  exceedingly  toilsome,  demanded  vast  pa- 
tience and  much  experience,  and,  after  all,  was 
full  of  uncertainty.  They  digged  eagerly  for  a 
time,  but  found  no  ore.  They  grew  hungry, 
threw  by  their  implements,  sat  down  to  eat,  and 
then  returned  to  work.  It  was  all  in.  vain. 
"Their  labor,"  says  Las  Casas,  "gave  them  a 


keen  appetite  and  quick  digestion,  but  no  gold." 
They  soon  consumed  their  provisions,  exhausted 
their  patience,  cursed  their  infatuation,  and  in 


*  Some  brief  notice  of  the  further  fortunes  of  Diego 
Mendez  may  be  interesting  to  the  reader.  When  King 
Ferdinand  heard  of  his  faithful  services,  says  Oviedo, 
he  bestowed  rewards  upon  Mendez,  and  permitted 
him  to  bear  a  canoe  in  his  coat  of  arms,  as  a  memento 
of  his  loyalty.  He  continued  devotedly  attached  to 
the  admiral,  serving  him  zealously  after  his  return  to 
Spain,  and  during  his  last  illness.  Columbus  retained 
the  most  grateful  and  affectionate  sense  of  his  fidel 
ity.  On  his  death-bed  he  promised  Mendez  that,  in 
reward  for  his  services,  he  should  be  appointed  prin- 
cipal alguazil  of  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  an  engage- 
ment which  the  admiral's  son,  Don  Diego,  who  was 
present,  cheerfully  undertook  to  perform.  A  few  years 
afterward,  when  the  latter  succeeded  to  the  office  of 
his  father,  Mendez  reminded  him  of  the  promise,  but 
Don  Diego  informed  him  that  he  had  given  the  office 
to  his  uncle  Don  Bartholomew  ;  he  assured  him,  how- 
ever, that  he  should  receive  something  equivalent. 
Mendez  shrewdly  replied,  that  the  equivalent  had  bet- 
ter be  given  to  Don  Bartholomew,  and  the  office  to 
himself,  according  to  agreement.  The  promise,  how- 
ever, remained  unperformed,  and  Diego  Mendez  un- 
rewarded. He  was  afterward  engaged  on  voyages  of 
discovery  in  vessels  of  his  own.  but  met  with  many 
vicissitudes,  and  appears  to  have  died  in  impov- 
erished circumstances.  His  last  will,  from  which  these 
particulars  are  principally  gathered,  was  dated  in 
Valladolid,  the  igth  of  June,  1536,  by  which  it  is  evi- 
dent he  must  have  been  in  the  prime  of  life  at  the 
time  of  his  voyage  with  the  admiral.  In  this  will  he 
requested  that  the  reward  which  had  been  promised  to 
him  should  be  paid  to  his  children,  by  making  his  eld- 
est son  principal  alguazil  for  life  of  the  city  of  San 
Domingo,  and  his  other  son  lieutenant  to  the  admiral 
for  the  same  city.  It  does  not  appear  whether  this 
request  was  complied  with  under  the  successors  of 
Don  Diego. 

In  another  clause  of  his  will  he  desired  that  a  large 
stone  should  be  placed  upon  his  sepulchre,  on  which 
should  be  engraved,  "  Here  lies  the  honorable  Cava- 
lier Diego  Mendez,  who  served  greatly  the  royal 
crown  of  Spain,  in  the  conquest  of  the  Indies,  with 
the  admiral  Don  Christopher  Columbus  of  glorious 
memory,  who  made  the  discovery  ;  and  afterward  by 
himself,  with  ships  at  his  own  cost.  He  died,  etc 


214 


LIFE   AND  VOYAGES   OF    COLUMBUS. 


eight  clays  set  off  drearily  on  their  return  along 
the  roads  they  had  lately  trod  so  exultingly. 
They  arrived  at  San  Domingo  without  an  ounce 
of  gold,  half-famished,  downcast,  and  despair- 
ing.* Such  is  too  often  the  case  of  those  who 
ignorantly  engage  in  mining — of  all  speculations 
the  most  brilliant,  promising,  and  fallacious. 

Poverty  soon  fell  upon  these  misguided  men. 
They  exhausted  the  little  property  brought  from 
Spain.  Many  suffered  extremely  from  hunger, 
and  were  obliged  to  exchange  even  their  apparel 
for  bread.  Some  formed  connections  with  the 
old  settlers  of  the  island  ;  but  the  greater  part 
were  like  men  lost  and  bewildered,  and  just 
awakened  from  a  dream.  The  miseries  of  the 
mind,  as  usual,  heightened  the  sufferings  of  the 
body.  Some  wasted  away  and  died  broken- 
hearted ;  others  were  hurried  off  by  raging  fe- 
vers, so  that  there  soon  perished  upward  of  a 
thousand  men. 

Ovando  was  reputed  a  man  of  great  prudence 
and  sagacity,  and  he  certainly  took  several  judi- 
cious measures  for  the  regulation  of  the  island 
and  the  relief  of  the  colonists.  He  made  arrange- 
ments for  distributing  the  married  persons  and 
the  families  which  had  come  out  in  his  fleet,  in 
four  towns  in  the  interior,  granting  them  impor- 
tant privileges.  He  revived  the  drooping  zeal  for 
mining,  by  reducing  the  royal  share  of  the  prod- 
uct from  one  half  to  a  third,  and  shortly  after  to 
a  fifth  ;  but  he  empowered  the  Spaniards  to  avail 
themselves,  in  the  most  oppressive  manner,  of  the 
labor  of  the  unhappy  natives  in  working  the 
mines.  The  charge  of  treating  the  natives  with 
severity  had  been  one  of  those  chiefly  urged 
against  Columbus.  It  is  proper,  therefore,  to 
notice  in  this  respect  the  conduct  of  his  succes- 
sor, a  man  chosen  for  his  prudence  and  his  sup- 
posed capacity  to  govern. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  when  Columbus  was 
in  a  manner  compelled  to  assign  lands  to  the  re- 
bellious followers  of  Francisco  Roldan,  in  1499, 
he  had  made  an  arrangement  that  the  caciques 
in  their  vicinity  should,  in  lieu  of  tribute,  furnish 
a  number  of  their  subjects  to  assist  them  in  culti- 
vating their  estates.  This,  as  has  been  observed, 
was  the  commencement  of  the  disastrous  system 
of  repartimientos,  or  distributions  of  Indians. 
When  Bobadilla  administered  the  government,  he 
constrained  the  caciques  to  furnish  a  certain  num- 
ber of  Indians  to  each  Spaniard,  for  the  purpose 
ot  working  the  mines,  where  they  were  employed 
like  beasts  of  burden.  He  made  an  enumeration 


etc.  Bestow  in  charity  a  Paternoster,  and  an  Ave 
Maria." 

He  ordered  that  in  the  midst  of  this  stone  there 
should  be  carved  an  Indian  canoe,  as  given  him  by 
the  king  for  armorial  bearings  in  memorial  of  his  voy- 
age from  Jamaica  to  Hispaniola,  and  above  it  should 
be  engraved,  in  large  letters,  the  word  "  CANOA." 
He  enjoined  upon  his  heirs  to  be  loyal  to  the  admiral 
(Don  Diego  Columbus),  and  his  lady,  and  gave  them 
much  ghostly  counsel,  mingled  with  pious  benedic- 
tions. As  an  heir-loom  in  his  family,  he  bequeathed 
his  library,  consisting  of  a  few  volumes,  which  ac- 
companied him  in  his  wanderings — viz  :  "  The  Art  of 
Holy  Dying,  by  Erasmus  ;  A  Sermon  of  the  same 
author,  in  Spanish  ;  The  Lingua  and  the  Colloquies 
of  the  same  ;  The  History  of  Josephus  ;  The  Moral 
Philosophy  of  Aristotle  ;  The  Book  of  the  Holy 
Land  ;  A  Book  called  the  Contemplation  of  the  Pas- 
sion of  our  Saviour  ;  A  Tract  on  the  Vengeance  of 
the  Death  of  Agamemnon,  and  several  other  short 
treatises."  This  curious  and  characteristic  testament 
is  in  the  archives  of  the  Duke  of  Veragua  in  Madrid. 

*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  6. 


of  the  natives,  to  prevent  evasion  ;  reduced  them 
into  classes,  and  distributed  them  among  the 
Spanish  inhabitants.  The  enormous  oppressions 
which  ensued  have  been  noticed.  They  roused 
the  indignation  of  Isabella  ;  and  when  Ovando 
was  sent  out  to  supersede  Bobadilla,  in  1502,  the 
natives  were  pronounced  free  ;  they  immediately 
refused  to  labor  in  the  mines. 

Ovando  represented  to  the  Spanish  sovereigns, 
in  1503,  that  ruinous  consequences  resulted  to  the 
colony  from  this  entire  liberty  granted  to  the  In- 
dians. He  stated  that  the  tribute  could  not  be 
collected,  for  the  Indians  were  lazy  and  improvi- 
dent ;  that  they  could  only  be  kept  from  vices 
and  irregularities  by  occupation  ;  that  they  now 
kept  aloof  from  the  Spaniards,  and  from  all  in- 
struction in  the  Christian  faith. 

The  last  representation  had  an  influence  with 
Isabella,  and  drew  a  letter  from  the  sovereigns 
to  Ovando,  in  1503,  in  which  he  was  ordered  to 
spare  no  pains  to  attach  the  natives  to  the  Span- 
ish nation  and  the  Catholic  religion.  To  make 
them  labor  moderately,  if  absolutely  essential  to 
their  own  good  ;  but  to  temper  authority  with  per- 
suasion and  kindness.  To  pay  them  regularly 
and  fairly  for  their  labor,  and  to  have  them  in- 
structed in  religion  on  certain  days. 

Ovando  availed  himself  of  the  powers  given 
him  by  this  letter  to  their  fullest  extent.  He  as- 
signed to  each  Castilian  a  certain  number  of  In- 
dians, according  to  the  quality  of  the  applicant, 
the  nature  of  the  application,  or  his  own  pleasure. 
It  was  arranged  in  the  form  of  an  order  on  a  ca- 
cique for  a  certain  number  of  Indians,  who  were 
to  be  paid  by  their  employer,  and  instructed  in 
the  Catholic  faith.  The  pay  was  so  small  as  to 
be  little  better  than  nominal  ;  the  instruction  was 
little  more  than  the  mere  ceremony  of  baptism  ; 
and  the  term  of  labor  was  at  first  six  months,  and 
then  eight  months  in  the  year.  Under  cover  of 
this  hired  labor,  intended  for  the  good  both  of 
their  bodies  and  their  souls,  more  intolerable  toil 
was  exacted  from  them,  and  more  horrible  cruel- 
ties were  inflicted,  than  in  the  worst  days  of  Bob- 
adilla. They  were  separated  often  the  distance 
of  several  days'  journey  from  their  wives  and  chil- 
dren, and  doomed  to  intolerable  labor  of  all 
kinds,  extorted  by  the  cruel  infliction  of  the  lash. 
For  food  they  had  the  cassava  bread,  an  unsub- 
stantial support  for  men  obliged  to  labor  ;  some- 
times a  scanty  portion  of  pork  was  distributed 
among  a  great  number  of  them,  scarce  a  mouth- 
ful .to  each.  When  the  Spaniards  who  superin- 
tended the  mines  were  at  their  repast,  says  Las 
Casas,  the  famished  Indians  scrambled  under  the 
table,  like  dogs,  for  any  bone  thrown  to  them. 
After  they  had  gnawed  and  sucked  it,  they 
pounded  it  between  stones  and  mixed  it  with  their 
cassava  bread,  that  nothing  of  so  precious  a  mor- 
sel might  be  lost.  As  to  those  who  labored  in 
the  fields,  they  never  tasted  either  flesh  or  fish  ;  a 
little  cassava  bread  and  a  few  roots  were  their  sup- 
port. While  the  Spaniards  thus  withheld  the 
nourishment  necessary  to  sustain  their  health  and 
strength,  they  exacted  a  degree  of  labor  sufficient 
to  break  down  the  most  vigorous  man.  If  the 
Indians  fled  from  this  incessant  toil  and  barbar- 
ous coercion,  and  took  refuge  in  the  mountains, 
they  were  hunted  out  like  wild  beasts,  scourged 
in  the  most  inhuman  manner,  and  laden  with 
chains  to  prevent  a  second  escape.  Many  perish- 
ed long  before  their  term  of  labor  had  expired. 
Those  who  survived  their  term  of  six  or  eight 
months  were  permitted  to  return  to  their  homes 
until  the  next  term  commenced.  But  their  homes 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


215 


were  often  forty,  sixty,  and  eighty  leagues  distant. 
They  had  nothing  to  sustain  them  through  the 
journey  but  a  few  roots  or  agi  peppers,  or  a  little 
cassava  bread.  Worn  down  by  long  toil  and  cruel 
hardships,  which  their  feeble  constitutions  were 
incapable  of  sustaining,  many  had  not  strength 
to  perform  the  journey,  but  sank  down  and  died 
by  the  way  ;  some  by  the  side  of  a  brook,  others 
under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  where  they  had  crawl- 
ed for  shelter  from  the  sun.  "  I  have  found  many 
dead  in  the  road,"  says  Las  Casas,  "  others  gasp- 
ing under  the  trees,  and  others  in  the  pangs  of 
death,  faintly  crying  Hunger  !  hunger!"*  Those 
who  reached  their  homes  most  commonly  found 
them  desolate.  During  the  eight  months  they 
had  been  absent,  their  wives  and  children  had 
either  perished  or  wandered  away  ;  the  fields  on 
which  they  depended  for  food  were  overrun  with 
weeds,  and  nothing  was  left  them  but  to  lie 
down,  exhausted  and  despairing,  and  die  at  the 
threshold  of  their  habitations.! 

It  is  impossible  to  pursue  any  farther  the  pic- 
ture drawn  by  the  venerable  Las  Casas,  not  of 
what  he  had  heard,  but  of  what  he  had  seen  ;  na- 
ture and  humanity  revolt  at  the  details.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  that,  so  intolerable  were  the  toils  and 
sufferings  inflicted  upon  this  weak  and  unoffend- 
ing race,  that  they  sank  under  them,  dissolving, 
as  it  were,  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Many 
killed  themselves  in  despair,  and  even  mothers 
overcame  the  powerful  instinct  of  nature,  and  de- 
stroyed the  infants  at  their  breasts,  to  spare  them 
a  life  of  wretchedness.  Twelve  years  had  not 
elapsed  since  the  discovery  of  the  island,  and  sev- 
eral hundred  thousand  of  its  native  inhabitants 
had  perished,  miserable  victims  to  the  grasping 
avarice  of  the  white  men. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MASSACRE    AT    XARAGUA— FATE  OF  ANACAONA. 


THE  sufferings  of  the  natives  under  the  civil 
policy  of  Ovando  have  been  briefly  shown  ;  it  re- 
mains to  give  a  concise  view  of  the  military  oper- 
ations of  this  commander,  so  lauded  by  certain 
of  the  early  historians  for  his  prudence.  By  this 
notice  a  portion  of  the  eventful  history  of  this 
island  will  be  recounted  which  is  connected  with 
the  fortunes  of  Columbus,  and  which  comprises 
the  thorough  subjugation,  and,  it  may  almost  be 
said,  extermination  of  the  native  inhabitants. 
And  first,  we  must  treat  of  the  disasters  of  the 
beautiful  province  of  Xaragua,  the  seat  of  hospi- 
tality, the  refuge  of  the  suffering  Spaniards  ;  and 
of  the  fate  of  the  female  cacique,  Anacaona, 
once  the  pride  of  the  island,  and  the  generous 
friend  of  white  men. 

Behechio,  the  ancient  cacique  of  this  province, 
being  dead,  Anacaona,  his  sister,  had  succeeded 
to  the  government.  The  marked  partiality  which 
she  once  manifested  for  the  Spaniards  had  been 
greatly  weakened  by  the  general  misery  they  had 
produced  in  her  country,  and  by  the  brutal  profli- 
gacy exhibited  in  her  immediate  dominions  by 
the  followers  of  Roldan.  The  unhappy  story  of 
the  loves  of  her  beautiful  daughter  Higuenamota, 
with  the  young  Spaniard  Hernando  de  Guevara, 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  14,  MS. 

f  Ibid.,  ubi  sup. 


had  also  caused  her  great  affliction  ;  and,  finally, 
the  various  and  enduring  hardships  inflicted 
on  her  once  happy  subjects  by  the  grinding  sys- 
tems of  labor  enforced  by  Bobadilla  and  Ovando, 
had  at  length,  it  is  said,  converted  her  friendship 
into  absolute  detestation. 

This  disgust  was  kept  alive  and  aggravated  by 
the  Spaniards  who  lived  in  her  immediate  neigh- 
borhood, and  had  obtained  grants  of  land  there  ; 
a  remnant  of  the  rebel  faction  of  Roldan,  who  re- 
tained the  gross  licentiousness  and  open  profli- 
gacy in  which  they  had  been  indulged  under  the 
loose  misrule  of  that  commander,  and  who  made 
themselves  odious  to  the  inferior  caciques,  by 
exacting  services  tyrannically  and  capriciously 
under  the  baneful  system  of  repartimientos. 

The  Indians  of  this  province  were  uniformly 
represented  as  a  more  intelligent,  polite,  and  gen- 
erous-spirited race  than  any  others  of  the  islands. 
They  were  the  more  prone  to  feel  and  resent  the 
overbearing  treatment  to  which  they  were  sub- 
jected. Quarrels  sometimes  took  place  between 
the  caciques  and  their  oppressors.  These  were 
immediately  reported  to  the  governor  as  danger- 
ous mutinies,  and  a  resistance  to  any  capricious 
and  extortionate  exaction  was  magnified  into  a 
rebellious  resistance  to  the  authority  of  govern- 
ment. Complaints  of  this  kind  were  continually 
pouring  in  upon  Ovando,  until  he  was  persuaded 
by  some  alarmist,  or  some  designing  mischief- 
maker,  that  there  was  a  deep-laid  conspiracy 
among  the  Indians  of  this  province  to  rise  upon 
the  Spaniards. 

Ovando  immediately  set  out  for  Xaragua  at  the 
head  of  three  hundred  foot-soldiers,  armed  with 
swords,  arquebuses,  and  cross-bows,  and  seventy 
horsemen,  with  cuirasses,  bucklers,  and  lances. 
He  pretended  that  he  was  going  on  a  mere  visit 
of  friendship  to  Anacaona,  and  to  make  arrange- 
ments about  the  payment  of  tribute. 

When  Anacaona  heard  of  the  intended  visit, 
she  summoned  all  her  tributary  caciques  and 
principal  subjects,  to  assemble  at  her  chief  town, 
that  they  might  receive  the  commander  of  the 
Spaniards  with  becoming  homage  and  distinction. 
As  Ovando,  at  the  head  of  his  little  army,  ap- 
proached, she  went  forth  to  meet  him,  according 
to  the  custom  of  her  nation,  attended  by  a  great 
train  of  her  most  distinguished  subjects,  male  and 
female  ;  who,  as  has  been  before  observed,  were 
noted  for  superior  grace  and  beauty.  They  re- 
ceived the  Spaniards  with  their  popular  areytos, 
their  national  songs  ;  the  young  women  waving 
palm  branches  and  dancing  before  them,  in  the 
way  that  had  so  much  charmed  the  followers  of 
the  Adelantado,  on  his  first  visit  to  the  province. 

Anacaona  treated  the  governor  with  that  nat- 
ural graciousness  and  dignity  for  which  she  was 
celebrated.  She  gave  him  the  largest  house  in 
the  place  for  his  residence,  and  his  people  were 
quartered  in  the  houses  adjoining.  For  several 
days  the  Spaniards  were  entertained  with  all  the 
natural  luxuries  that  the  province  afforded.  Na- 
tional songs  and  dances  and  games  were  per- 
formed for  their  amusement,  and  there  was  every 
outward  demonstration  of  the  same  hospitality, 
the  same  amity,  that  Anacaona  had  uniformly 
shown  to  white  men. 

Notwithstanding  all  this  kindness,  and  not- 
withstanding her  uniform  integrity  of  conduct, 
and  open  generosity  of  character,  Ovando  was 
persuaded  that  Anacaona  was  secretly  meditating 
a  massacre  of  himself  and  his  followers.  Histori- 
ans tell  us  nothing  of  the  grounds  for  such  a  be- 
lief. It  was  too  probably  produced  by  the  misrep- 


210 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


resentations  of  the  unprincipled  adventurers  who 
infested  the  province.  Ovando  should  have 
paused  and  reflected  before  he  acted  upon  it.  He 
should  have  considered  the  improbability  of  such 
an  attempt  by  naked  Indians  against  so  large  a 
force  of  steel-clad  troops,  armed  with  European 
weapons  ;  and  he  should  have  reflected  upon  the 
general  character  and  conduct  of  Anacaona.  At 
any  rate,  the  example  set  repeatedly  by  Columbus 
and  his  brother  the  Adelantado  should  have  con- 
vinced him  that  it  was  a  sufficient  safeguard 
against  the  machinations  of  the  natives,  to  seize 
upon  their  caciques  and  detain  them  as  hostages. 
The  policy  of  Ovando,  however,  was  of  a  more 
rash  and  sanguinary  nature  ;  he  acted  upon  sus- 
picion as  upon  conviction.  He  determined  to  an- 
ticipate the  alleged  plot  by  a  counter  artifice,  and 
to  overwhelm  this  defenceless  people  in  an  indis- 
criminate and  bloody  vengeance. 

As  the  Indians  had  entertained  their  guests  with 
various  national  games,  Ovando  invited  them  in 
return  to  witness  certain  games  of  his  coun- 
try. Among  these  was  a  tilting  match  or  joust 
with  reeds  ;  a  chivalrous  game  which  the  Span- 
iards had  learnt  from  the  Moors  of  Granada.  The 
Spanish  cavalry,  in  those  days,  were  as  remarka- 
ble for  the  skilful  management  as  for  the  osten- 
tatious caparison  of  their  horses.  Among  the 
troops  brought  out  from  Spain  by  Ovando,  one 
horseman  had  disciplined  his  horse  to  prance  arid 
curvet  in  time  to  the  music  of  a  viol.*  The  joust 
was  appointed  to  take  place  of  a  Sunday  after 
dinner,  in  the  public  square,  before  the  house 
where  Ovando  was  quartered.  The  cavalry  and 
foot-soldiers  had  their  secret  instructions.  The 
former  were  to  parade,  not  merely  with  reeds  or 
blunted  tilting  lances,  but  with  weapons  of  a 
more  deadly  character.  The  foot-soldiers  were 
to  come  apparently  as  mere  spectators,  but  like- 
wise armed  and  ready  for  action  at  a  concerted 
signal. 

At  the  appointed  time  the  square  was  crowded 
with  the  Indians,  waiting  to  see  this  military 
spectacle.  The  caciques  were  assembled  in  the 
house  of  Ovando,  which  looked  upon  the  square. 
None  were  armed  ;  an  unreserved  confidence 
prevailed  among  them,  totally  incompatible  with 
the  dark  treachery  of  which  they  were  accused. 
To  prevent  all  suspicion,  and  take  off  all  appear- 
ance of  sinister  design,  Ovando,  after  dinner,  was 
playing  at  quoits  with  some  of  his  principal  officers, 
when  the  cavalry  having  arrived  in  the  square, 
the  caciques  begged  the  governor  to  order  the 
joust  to  commence.!  Anacaona,  and  her  beauti- 
ful daughter  Higuenamota,  with  several  of  her  fe- 
male attendants,  were  present  and  joined  in  the 
request. 

Ovando  left  his  game  and  came  forward  to  a 
conspicuous  place.  When  he  saw  that  every- 
thing was  disposed  according  to  his  orders,  he 
gave  the  fatal  signal.  Some  say  it  was  by  taking 
hold  of  a  piece  of  gold  which  was  suspended 
about  his  neck  ;  J  others  by  laying  his  hand  on  the 
cross  of  Alcantara,  which  was  embroidered  on 
his  habit. \  A  trumpet  was  immediately  sounded. 
The  house  in  which  Anacaona,  and  all  the  princi- 
pal caciques  were  assembled  was  surrounded  by 
soldiery,  commanded  by  Diego  Velasquez  and 
Rodrigo  Mexiatrillo,  and  no  one  was  permitted  to 
escape.  They  entered,  and  seizing  upon  the  ca- 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  9. 

•f  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  iii.  cap.  12. 

i  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  9. 

§  Charlevoix,  Hist.  San  Domingo,  lib.  xxiv.  p.  235. 


ciques,  bound  them  to  the  posts  which  supported 
the  roof.  Anacaona  was  led  forth  a  prisoner. 
The  unhappy  caciques  were  then  put  to  horrible 
tortures,  until  some  of  them,  in  the  extremity  oi 
anguish,  were  made  to  accuse  their  queen  and 
themselves  of  the  plot  with  which  they  were 
charged.  When  this  cruel  mockery  of  judicial 
form  had  been  executed,  instead  of  preserving 
them  for  after-examination,  fire  was  set  to  the 
house,  and  all  the  caciques  perished  miserably  in 
the  flames. 

While  these  barbarities  were  practised  upon 
the  chieftains,  a  horrible  massacre  took  place 
among  the  populace.  At  the  signal  ot  Ovando, 
the  horsemen  rushed  into  the  midst  of  the  naked 
and  defenceless  throng,  trampling  them  under 
the  hoofs  of  their  steeds,  cutting  them  down  with 
their  swords,  and  transfixing  them  with  their 
spears.  No  mercy  was  shown  to  age  or  sex  ;  it 
was  a  savage  and  indiscriminate  butchery.  Now 
and  then  a  Spanish  horseman,  either  through  an 
emotion  of  pity  or  an  impulse  of  avarice,  caught 
up  a  child,  to  bear  it  off  in  safety  ;  but  it  was 
barbarously  pierced  by  the  lances  of  his  compan- 
ions. Humanity  turns  with  horror  from  such 
atrocities,  and  would  fain  discredit  them  ;  but 
they  are  circumstantially  and  still  more  minutely 
recorded  by  the  venerable  bishop  La  Casas,  who 
was  resident  in  the  island  at  the  time,  and  con- 
versant with  the  principal  actors  in  this  tragedy. 
He  may  have  colored  the  picture  strongly,  in  his 
usual  indignation  when  the  wrongs  of  the  Indians 
are  in  question  ;  yet,  from  all  concurring  ac- 
counts, and  from  many  precise  facts  which  speak 
for  themselves,  the  scene  must  have  been  most 
sanguinary  and  atrocious.  Oviedo,  who  is  loud 
in  extolling  the  justice,  and  devotion,  and  charity, 
and  meekness  of  Ovando,  and  his  kind  treatment 
of  the  Indians,  and  who  visited  the  province  of 
Xaragua  a  few  years  afterward,  records  several 
of  the  preceding  circumstances  ;  especially  the 
cold-blooded  game  of  quoits  played  by  the  gov- 
ernor on  the  verge  of  such  a  horrible  scene,  and 
the  burning  of  the  caciques,  to  the  number,  he 
says,  of  more  than  forty.  Diego  Mendez,  who 
was  at  Xaragua  at  the  time,  and  doubtless  pres- 
ent on  such  an  important  occasion,  says  inci- 
dentally, in  his  last  will  and  testament,  that  there 
were  eighty-four  caciques  either  burnt  or  hanged.* 
Las  Casas  says  that  there  were  eighty  who  enter- 
ed the  house  with  Anacaona.  The  slaughter  of 
the  multitude  must  have  been  great  ;  and  this 
was  inflicted  on  an  unarmed  and  unresisting 
throng.  Several  who  escaped  from  the  massacre 
fled  in  their  canoes  to  an  island  about  eight 
leagues  distant,  called  Guanabo.  They  were 
pursued  and  taken,  and  condemned  to  slavery. 

As  to  the  princess  Anacaona,  she  was  carried 
in  chains  to  San  Domingo.  The  mockery  of  a 
trial  was  given  her,  in  which  she  was  found  guilty 
on  the  confessions  wrung  by  tortures  from  her 
subjects,  and  on  the  testimony  of  their  butchers  ; 
and  she  was  ignominiously  hanged  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  people  whom  she  had  so  long  and  so 
signally  befriended. f  Oviedo  has  sought  to 
throw  a  stigma  on  the  character  of  this  unfortu- 
nate princess,  accusing  her  of  great  licentious- 
ness ;  but  he  was  prone  to  criminate  the  char- 
acter of  the  native  princes,  who  fell  victims  to 
the  ingratitude  and  injustice  of  his  countrymen. 


*  Relacion  hecha  por  Don  Diego  Mendez.  Navar- 
rete,  Col.,  torn.  i.  p.  314. 

f  Oviedo.  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  iii.  cap.  12. 
Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  9. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


217 


Contemporary  writers  ot  great  authority  have 
concurred  in  representing  Anacaona  as  remarka- 
ble for  her  native  propriety  and  dignity.  She 
was  adored  by  her  subjects,  so  as  to  hold  a  kind 
of  dominion  over  them  even  during  the  lifetime 
of  her  brother  ;  she  is  said  to  have  been  skilled  in 
composing  the  areytos,  or  legendary  ballads  of 
her  nation,  and  may  have  conduced  much  tow- 
ard producing  that  superior  degree  of  refine- 
ment remarked  among  her  people.  Her  grace 
and  beauty  had  made  her  renowned  throughout 
the  island,  and  had  excited  the  admiration  both 
of  the  savage  and  the  Spaniard.  Her  magnani- 
mous spirit  was  evinced  in  her  amicable  treat- 
ment of  the  white  men,  although  her  husband, 
the  brave  Caonabo,  had  perished  a  prisoner  in 
their  hands  ;  and  defenceless  parties  of  them  had 
been  repeatedly  in  her  power,  and  lived  at  large 
in  her  dominions.  After  having  for  several  years 
neglected  all  safe  opportunities  of  vengeance,  she 
fell  a  victim  to  the  absurd  charge  of  having  con- 
spired against  an  armed  body  of  nearly  four 
hundred  men,  seventy  of  them  horsemen  ;  a  force 
sufficient  to  have  subjugated  large  armies  of  na- 
ked Indians. 

After  the  massacre  of  Xaragua  the  destruc- 
tion of  its  inhabitants  still  continued.  The  favor- 
ite nephew  of  Anacaona,  the  cacique  Guaora, 
who  had  fled  to  the  mountains,  was  hunted  like  a 
wild  beast,  until  he  was  taken,  and  likewise 
hanged.  For  six  months  the  Spaniards  contin- 
ued ravaging  the  country  with  horse  and  foot, 
under  pretext  of  quelling  insurrections  ;  for, 
wherever  the  affrighted  natives  took  refuge  in 
their  despair,  herding  in  dismal  caverns  and  in  the 
fastnesses  of  the  mountains,  they  were  represented 
as  assembling  in  arms  to  make  a  head  of  rebel- 
lion. Having  at  length  hunted  them  out  of  their 
retreats,  destroyed  many,  and  reduced  the  survi- 
vors to  the  most  deplorable  misery  and  abject 
submission,  the  whole  of  that  part  of  the  island 
was  considered  as  restored  to  good  order  ;  and 
in  commemoration  of  this  great  triumph  Ovando 
founded  a  town  near  to  the  lake,  which  he  called 
Santa  Maria  de  la  Verdadera  Paz  (St.  Mary  of 
the  True  Peace).* 

Such  is  the  tragical  history  of  the  delightful  re- 
gion of  Xaragua,  and  of  its  amiable  and  hospita- 
ble people.  A  place  which  the  Europeans,  by 
their  own  account,  found  a  perfect  paradise,  but 
which,  by  their  vile  passions,  they  filled  with 
horror  and  desolation. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WAR  WITH  THE  NATIVES   OF  HIGUEY. 


THE  subjugation  of  four  of  the  Indian  sovereign- 
ties of  Hispaniola,  and  the  disastrous  fate  of  their 
caciques,  have  been  already  related.  Under  the 
administration  of  Ovando  was  also  accomplished 
the  downfall  of  Higuey,  the  last  of  those  inde- 
pendent districts  ;  a  fertile  province  which  com- 
prised the  eastern  extremity  of  the  island. 

The  people  of  Higuey  were  of  a  more  warlike 
spirit  than  those  of  the  other  provinces,  having 
learned  the  effectual  use  of  their  weapons,  from 
frequent  contests  with  their  Carib  invaders.  They 
were  governed  by  a  cacique  named  Cotabanama. 
Las  Casas  describes  this  chieftain  from  actual  ob- 

*  Oviedo,  Cronica  de  las  Indias,  lib.  iii.  cap.  12. 


servation,  arid  draws  the  picture  of  a  native  hero. 
He  was,  he  says,  the  strongest  of  his  tribe,  and 
more  perfectly  formed  than  one  man  in  a  thou- 
sand, of  any  nation  whatever.  He  was  taller  in 
stature  than  the  tallest  of  his  countrymen,  a  yard 
in  breadth  from  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  the 
rest  of  his  body  in  admirable  proportion.  His 
aspect  was  not  handsome,  but  grave  and  cour- 
ageous. His  bow  was  not  easily  bent  by  a  com- 
mon man  ;  his  arrows  were  three  pronged,  tipped 
with  the  bones  ot  fishes,  and  his  weapons  appear- 
ed to  be  intended  for  a  giant.  In  a  word,  he  was 
so  nobly  proportioned  as  to  be  the  admiration 
even  of  the  Spaniards. 

While  Columbus  was  engaged  in  his  fourth 
voyage,  and  shortly  after  the  accession  of  Ovando 
to  office,  there  was  an  insurrection  of  this  cacique 
and  his  people.  A  shallop,  with  eight  Spaniards, 
was  surprised  at  the  small  island  of  Saona,  adja- 
cent to  Higuey,  and  all  the  crew  slaughtered. 
This  was  in  revenge  for  the  death  of  a  cacique, 
torn  to  pieces  by  a  dog  wantonly  set  upon  him  by 
a  Spaniard,  and  for  which  the  natives  had  in  vain 
sued  tor  redress. 

Ovando  immediately  dispatched  Juan  de  Esqui- 
bel,  a  courageous  officer,  at  the  head  of  four  hun- 
dred men,  to  quell  the  insurrection  and  punish 
the  massacre.  Cotabanama  assembled  his  war- 
riors, and  prepared  for  vigorous  resistance. 
Distrustful  of  the  mercy  of  the  Spaniards,  the 
chieftain  rejected  all  overtures  of  peace,  and  the 
war  was  prosecuted  with  some  advantage  to  the 
natives.  The  Indians  had  now  overcome  their 
superstitious  awe  of  the  white  men  as  supernat- 
ural beings,  and  though  they  could  ill  withstand 
the  superiority  of  European  arms,  they  manifested 
a  courage  and  dexterity  that  rendered  them  ene- 
mies not  to  be  despised.  Las  Casas  and  other 
historians  relate  a  bold  and  romantic  encounter 
between  a  single  Indian  and  two  mounted  cavi- 
liers  named  Valtenebro  and  Portevedra,  in  which 
the  Indian,  though  pierced  through  the  body  by 
the  lances  and  swords  of  both  his  assailants,  re- 
tained his  fierceness,  and  continued  the  combat 
until  he  fell  dead  in  the  possession  of  all  their 
weapons.*  This  gallant  action,  says  Las  Casas, 
was  public  and  notorious. 

The  Indians  were  soon  defeated  and  driven  to 
their  mountain  retreats.  The  Spaniards  pursued 
them  into  their  recesses,  discovered  their  wives 
and  children,  wreaked  on  them  the  most  indis- 
criminate slaughter,  and  committed  their  chief- 
tains to  the  flames.  An  aged  female  cacique  of 
great  distinction,  named  Higuanama,  being  taken 
prisoner,  was  hanged. 

A  detachment  was  sent  in  a  caravel  to  the 
island  of  Saona,  to  take  particular  vengeance  for 
the  destruction  of  the  shallop  and  its  crew.  The 
natives  made  a  desperate  defence  and  fled.  The 
island  was  mountainous  and  full  of  caverns,  in 
which  the  Indians  vainly  sought  for  refuge.  Six 
or  seven  hundred  were  imprisoned  in  a  dwelling, 
and  all  put  to  the  sword  or  poniarded.  Those  of 
the  inhabitants  who  were  spared  were  carried  off 
as  slaves,  and  the  island  was  left  desolate  and 
deserted. 

The  natives  of  Higuey  were  driven  to  despair, 
seeing  that  there  was  no  escape  for  them  even  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth  ;  f  they  sued  for  peace, 
which  was  granted  them,  and  protection  prom- 
ised on  condition  of  their  cultivating  a  large  tract 
of  land,  and  paying  a  great  quantity  of  bread  in 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ji.  cap.  S. 
t  Ibid.,  ubi  sup. 


218 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


tribute.  The  peace  being  concluded,  Cotaba- 
nama  visited  the  Spanish  camp,  where  his  gi- 
gantic proportions  and  martial  demeanor  made 
him  an  object  of  curiosity  and  admiration.  He 
was  received  with  great  distinction  by  Esquibel, 
and  they  exchanged  names,  an  Indian  league  of 
fraternity  and  perpetual  friendship.  The  natives 
thenceforward  called  the  cacique  Juan  de  Es- 
quibel, and  the  Spanish  commander  Cotaba- 
nama.  Esquibel  then  built  a  wooden  fortress  in 
an  Indian  village  near  the  sea,  and  left  in  it  nine 
men,  with  a  captain,  named  Martin  de  Villaman. 
After  this  the  troops  dispersed,  every  man  return- 
ing home,  with  his  proportion  of  slaves  gained  in 
this  expedition. 

The  pacification  was  not  of  long  continuance. 
About  the  time  that  succors  were  sent  to  Columbus, 
to  rescue  him  from  the  wrecks  of  his  vessels  at  Ja- 
maica, a  new  revolt  broke  out  in  Higuey,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  oppressions  of  the  Spaniards,  and 
a  violation  of  the  treaty  made  by  Esquibel.  Mar- 
tin de  Villaman  demanded  that  the  natives  should 
not  only  raise  the  grain  stipulated  for  by  the 
treaty,  but  convey  it  to  San  Domingo,  and  he 
treated  them  with  the  greatest  severity  on  their 
refusal.  He  connived  also  at  the  licentious  con- 
duct of  his  men  toward  the  Indian  women  ;  the 
Spaniards  often  taking  from  the  natives  their 
daughters  and  sisters,  and  even  their  wives.* 
The  Indians,  roused  at  last  to  fury,  rose  on  their 
tyrants,  slaughtered  them,  and  burnt  their  wood- 
en fortress  to  the  ground.  Only  one  of  the  Span- 
iards escaped,  and  bore  the  tidings  of  this  catas- 
trophe to  the  city  of  San  Domingo. 

Ovando  gave  immediate  orders  to  carry  fire  and 
sword  into  the  province  of  Higuey.  The  Spanish 
troops  mustered  from  various  quarters  on  the 
confines  of  that  province,  when  Juan  de  Esquibel 
took  the  command,  and  had  a  great  number  of 
Indians  with  him  as  allies.  The  towns  of  Higuey 
were  generally  built  among  the  mountains. 
Those  mountains  rose  in  terraces  from  ten  to  fit- 
teen  leagues  in  length  and  breadth  ;  rough  and 
rocky,  interspersed  with  glens  of  a  red  soil,  re- 
markably fertile,  where  they  raised  their  cassava 
bread.  The  ascent  from  terrace  to  terrace  was 
about  fifty  feet ;  steep  and  precipitous,  formed  of 
the  living  rock,  and  resembling  a  wall  wrought 
with  tools  into  rough  diamond  points.  Each  vil- 
lage had  four  wide  streets,  a  stone's  throw  in 
length,  forming  a  cross,  the  trees  being  cleared 
away  from  them,  and  from  a  public  square  in  the 
centre. 

When  the  Spanish  troops  arrived  on  the  fron- 
tiers, alarm  fires  along  the  mountains  and  col- 
umns of  smoke  spread  the  intelligence  by  night 
and  day.  The  old  men,  the  women,  and  chil- 
dren, were  sent  off  to  the  forests  and  caverns,  and 
the  warriors  prepared  for  battle.  The  Castilians 
paused  in  one  of  the  plains  clear  of  forests,  where 
their  horses  could  be  of  use.  They  made  prison- 
ers of  several  of  the  natives,  and  tried  to  learn 
from  them  the  plans  and  forces  of  the  enemy. 
They  applied  tortures  for  the  purpose,  but  in  vain, 
so  devoted  was  the  loyalty  of  these  people  to  their 
caciques.  The  Spaniards  penetrated  into  the  in- 
terior. They  found  the  warriors  of  several  towns 
assembled  in  one,  and  drawn  up  in  the  streets 
with  their  bows  and  arrows,  but  perfectly  naked, 
and  without  defensive  armor.  They  uttered  tre- 
mendous yells,  and  discharged  a  shower  of  ar- 
rows ;  but  from  such  a  distance  that  they  fell 
short  of  their  foe.  The  Spaniards  replied  with 


*  Las  Casas,  ubi  sup. 


their  cross-bows,  and  with  two  or  three  arque- 
buses, for  at  this  time  they  had  but  few  firearms. 
When  the  Indians  saw  several  of  their  comrades 
fall  dead,  they  took  to  flight,  rarely  waiting  for 
the  attack  with  swords  ;  some  of  the  wounded,  in 
whose  bodies  the  arrows  from  the  cross-bows  had 
penetrated  to  the  very  feather,  drew  them  out  with 
their  hands,  broke  them  with  their  teeth,  and  hurl- 
ing them  at  the  Spaniards  with  impotent  fury, 
fell  dead  upon  the  spot. 

The  whole  force  of  the  Indians  was  routed  and 
dispersed  ;  each  family,  or  band  of  neighbors,  fled 
in  its  own  direction,  and  concealed  itself  in  the 
fastness  of  the  mountains.  The  Spaniards  pur- 
sued them,  but  found  the  chase  difficult  amid 
the  close  forests,  and  the  broken  and  stony- 
heights.  They  took  several  prisoners  as  guides, 
and  inflicted  incredible  torments  on  them,  to 
compel  them  to  betray  their  countrymen.  They 
drove  them  before  them,  secured  by  cords  fasten- 
ed round  their  necks  ;  and  some  of  them,  as  they 
passed  along  the  brinks  of  precipices,  suddenly 
threw  themselves  headlong  down,  in  hopes  of 
dragging  after  them  the  Spaniards.  When  at 
length  the  .pursuers  came  upon  the  unhappy  In- 
dians in  their  concealments,  they  spared  neither 
age  nor  sex  ;  even  pregnant  women,  and  mothers 
with  infants  in  their  arms,  fell  beneath  their  mer- 
ciless swords.  The  cold-blooded  acts  of  cruelty 
which  followed  this  first  slaughter  would  be 
shocking  to  relate. 

Hence  Esquibel  marched  to  attack  the  town 
where  Cotabanama  resided,  and  where  that  ca- 
cique had  collected  a  great  force  to  resist  him. 
He  proceeded  direct  for  the  place  along  the  sea- 
coast,  and  came  to  where  two  roads  led  up  the 
mountain  to  the  town.  One  of  the  roads  was 
open  and  inviting  ;  the  branches  of  the  trees  be- 
ing lopped,  and  all  the  underwood  cleared  away. 
Here  the  Indians  had  stationed  an  ambuscade  to 
take  the  Spaniards  in  the  rear.  The  other  road 
was  almost  closed  up  by  trees  and  bushes  cut 
down  and  thrown  across  each  other.  Esquibel 
was  wary  and  distrustful  ;  he  suspected  the  strat- 
agem, and  chose  the  encumbered  road.  The 
town  was  about  a  league  and  a  half  from  the  sea. 
The  Spaniards  made  their  way  with  great  diffi- 
culty for  the  first  half  league.  The  rest  of  the 
road  was  free  from  all  embarrassment,  which 
confirmed  their  suspicion  of  a  stratagem.  They 
now  advanced  with  great  rapidity,  and,  having 
arrived  near  the  village,  suddenly  turned  into  the 
other  road,  took  the  party  in  ambush  by  surprise, 
and  made  great  havoc  among  them  with  their 
cross-bows. 

The  warriors  now  sallied  from  their  conceal- 
ment, others  rushed  out  of  the  houses  into  the 
streets,  and  discharged  flights  of  arrows,  but 
from  such  a  distance  as  generally  to  fall  harm- 
less. They  then  approached  nearer,  and  hurled 
stones  with  their  hands,  being  unacquainted  with 
the  use  of  slings.  Instead  of  being  dismayed  at 
seeing  their  companions  fall,  it  rather  increased 
their  fury.  An  irregular  battle,  probably  little 
else  than  wild  skirmishing  and  bush-fighting,  was 
kept  up  from  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  until 
night.  Las  Casas  was  present  on  the  occasion, 
and,  from  his  account,  the  Indians  must  have 
shown  instances  of  great  personal  bravery,  though 
the  inferiority  of  their  weapons,  and  the  want  of 
all  defensive  armor,  rendered  their  valor  totally 
ineffectual.  As  the  evening  shut  in,  their  hostili- 
ties gradually  ceased,  and  they  disappeared  in  the 
profound  gloom  and  close  thickets  of  the  sur- 
rounding forest.  A  deep  silence  succeeded  to 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES   OF  COLUMBUS. 


219 


their  yells  and  war-whoops,  and  throughout  the 
night  the  Spaniards  remained  in  undisturbed 
possession  of  the  village. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CLOSE    OF    THE    WAR    WITH     HIGUEY — FATE   OF 
COTABANAMA. 

[1504.] 

ON  the  morning  after  the  battle  not  an  Indian 
was  to  be  seen.  Finding  that  even  their  great 
chief,  Cotabanama,  was  incapable  of  vying  with 
the  prowess  of  the  white  men,  they  had  given  up 
the  contest  in  despair,  and  fled  to  the  mountains. 
The  Spaniards,  separating  into  small  parties, 
hunted  them  with  the  utmost  diligence  ;  their  ob- 
ject was  to  seize  the  caciques,  and,  above  all,  Co- 
tabanama. They  explored  all  the  glens  and  con- 
cealed paths  leading  into  the  wild  recesses  where 
the  fugitives  had  taken  refuge.  The  Indians 
were  cautious  and  stealthy  in  their  mode  of  re- 
treating, treacling  in  each  other's  footprints,  so 
that  twenty  would  make  no  more  track  than  one, 
and  stepping  so  lightly  as  scarce  to  disturb  the 
herbage  ;  yet  there  were  Spaniards  so  skilled  in 
hunting  Indians  that  they  could  trace  them  even 
by  the  turn  of  a  withered  leaf,  and  among  the  con- 
fused tracks  of  a  thousand  animals. 

They  could  scent  afar  off  also  the  smoke  of  the 
fires  which  the  Indians  made  whenever  they 
halted,  and  thus  they  would  come  upon  them  in 
their  most  secret  haunts.  Sometimes  they  would 
hunt  down  a  straggling  Indian,  and  compel  him, 
by  torments,  to  betray  the  hiding-place  of  his 
companions,  binding  him  and  driving  him  before 
them  as  a  guide.  Wherever  they  discovered  one 
of  these  places  of  refuge,  filled  with  the  aged  and 
the  infirm,  with  feeble  women  and  helpless  chil- 
dren, they  massacred  them  without  mercy.  They 
wished  to  inspire  terror  throughout  the  land,  and 
to  frighten  the  whole  tribe  into  submission.  They 
cut  off  the  hands  of  those  whom  they  took  roving 
at  large,  and  sent  them,  as  they  said,  to  deliver 
them  as  letters  to  their  friends,  demanding  their 
surrender.  Numberless  were  those,  says  Las 
Casas,  whose  hands  were  amputated  in  this  man- 
ner, and  many  of  them  sank  down  and  died  by 
the  way,  through  anguish  and  loss  of  blood. 

The  conquerors  delighted  in  exercising  strange 
and  ingenious  cruelties.  They  mingled  horrible 
levity  with  their  blood-thirstiness.  They  erected 
gibbets  long  and  low,  so  that  the  feet  of  the  suf- 
ferers might  reach  the  ground,  and  their  death  be 
lingering.  They  hanged  thirteen  together,  in  rev- 
erence, says  the  indignant  Las  Casas,  of  our  bless- 
ed Saviour  and  the  twelve  apostles.  While  their 
victims  were  suspended,  and  still  living,  they 
hacked  them  with  their  swords,  to  prove  the 
strength  of  their  arms  and  the  edge  of  their  weap- 
ons. They  wrapped  them  in  dry  straw,  and  set- 
ting fire  to  it,  terminated  their  existence  by  the 
fiercest  agony. 

These  are  horrible  details,  yet  a  veil  is  drawn 
over  others  still  more  detestable.  They  are  re- 
lated circumstantially  by  Las  Casas,  who  was  an 
eye-witness.  He  was  young  at  the  time,  but  re- 
cords them  in  his  advanced  years.  "  All  these 
things,"  said  the  venerable  bishop,  "  and  others 
revolting  to  human  nature,  did  my  own  eyes  be- 
hold ;  and  now  I  almost  fear  to  repeat  them, 


scarce  believing  myself,  or  whether  I  have  not 
dreamt  them."* 

These  details  would  have  been  withheld  from 
the  present  work  as  disgraceful  to  human  nature, 
and  from  an  unwillingness  to  advance  anything 
which  might  convey  a  stigma  upon  a  brave  and 
generous  nation.  But  it  would  be  a  departure 
from  historical  veracity,  having  the  documents 
before  my  eyes,  to  pass  silently  over  transactions 
so  atrocious,  and  vouched  for  by  witnesses  beyond 
all  suspicion  of  falsehood.  Such  occurrences 
show  the  extremity  to  which  human  cruelty  may 
extend,  when  stimulated  by  avidity  of  gain,  by  a 
thirst  of  vengeance,  or  even  by  a  perverted  zeal 
in  the  holy  cause  of  religion.  Every  nation  has 
in  turn  furnished  proofs  of  this  disgraceful  truth. 
As  in  the  present  instance,  they  are  commonly 
the  crimes  of  individuals  rather  than  of  the  na- 
tion. Yet  it  behooves  governments  to  keep  a  vig- 
ilant eye  upon  those  to  whom  they  delegate  power 
in  remote  and  helpless  colonies.  It  is  the  impe- 
rious duty  of  the  historian  to  place  these  matters 
upon  record,  that  they  may  serve  as  warning 
beacons  to  future  generations. 

Juan  de  Esquibel  found  that,  with  all  his  sever- 
ities, it  would  be  impossible  to  subjugate  the 
tribe  of  Higuey  as  long  as  the  cacique  Cotaba- 
nama was  at  large.  That  chieftain  had  retired  to 
the  litlle  island  of  Saona,  about  two  leagues  from 
the  coast  of  Higuey,  in  the  centre  of  which, 
amid  a  labyrinth  of  rocks  and  forests,  he  had 
taken  shelter,  with  his  wife  and  children,  in  a  vast 
cavern. 

A  caravel,  recently  arrived  from  the  city  of  San 
Domingo  with  supplies  for  the  camp,  was  employ- 
ed by  Esquibel  to  entrap  the  cacique.  He  knew 
that  the  latter  kept  a  vigilant  look-out,  stationing 
scouts  upon  the  lofty  rocks  of  his  island  to  watch 
the  movements  of  the  caravel.  Esquibel  departed 
by  night,  therefore,  in  the  vessel,  with  fifty  follow- 
ers, and  keeping  under  the  deep  shadows  cast  by 
the  land,  arrived  at  Saona  unperceived,  at  the 
dawn  of  morning.  Here  he  anchored  close  in 
with  the  shore,  hid  by  its  cliffs  and  forests,  and 
landed  forty  men,  before  the  spies  of  Cotabanama 
had  taken  their  station.  Two  of  these  were  sur- 
prised and  brought  to  Esquibel,  who,  having 
learnt  from  them  that  the  cacique  was  at  hand, 
poniarded  one  of  the  spies,  and  bound  the  other, 
making  him  serve  as  guide. 

A  number  of  Spaniards  ran  in  advance,  each 
anxious  to  signalize  himself  by  the  capture  of  the 
cacique.  They  came  to  two  roads,  and  the  whole 
party  pursued  that  to  the  right,  excepting  one 
Juan  Lopez,  a  powerful  man,  skilful  in  Indian 
warfare.  He  proceeded  in  a  footpath  to  the  left, 
winding  among  little  hills,  so  thickly  wooded 
that  it  was  impossible  to  see  any  one  at  the  dis- 
tance of  half  a  bow-shot.  Suddenly,  in  a  narrow 
pass,  overshadowed  by  rocks  ana  trees,  he  en- 
countered twelve  Indian  warriors,  armed  with 
bows  and  arrows,  and  following  each  other  in 
single  file  according  to  their  custom.  The  In- 
dians were  confounded  at  the  sight  of  Lopez, 
imagining  that  there  must  be  a  party  of  soldiers 
behind  him.  They  might  readily  have  transfixed 
him  with  their  arrows,  but  they  had  lost  all  pres- 
ence of  mind.  He  demanded  their  chieftain.  They 
replied  that  he  was  behind,  and  opening  to  let 
him  pass,  Lopez  beheld  the  cacique  in  the  rear. 
At  sight  of  the  Spaniard  Cotabanama  bent  his 
gigantic  bow,  and  was  on  the  point  of  launching 
one  of  his  three  pronged  arrows,  but  Lopez  rushed 


*  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  17,  MS. 


220 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


upon  him  and  wounded  him  with  his  sword.  The 
other  Indians,  struck  with  panic,  had  already  fled. 
Cotabanama,  dismayed  at  the  keenness  of  the 
sword,  cried  out  that  he  was  Juan  de  Esquibel, 
claiming  respect  as  having  exchanged  names  with 
the  Spanish  commander.  Lopez  seized  him  with 
one  hand  by  the  hair,  and  with  the  other  aimed 
a  thrust  at  his  body  ;  but  the  cacique  struck  down 
the  sword  with  his  hand,  and,  grappling  with  his 
antagonist,  threw  him  with  his  back  upon  the 
rocks.  As  they  were  both  men  of  great  power, 
the  struggle  was  long  and  violent.  The  sword 
was  beneath  them,  but  Cotabanama,  seizing  the 
Spaniard  by  the  throat  with  his  mighty  hand,  at- 
tempted to  strangle  him.  The  sound  of  the  con- 
test, brought  the  other  Spaniards  to  the  spot. 
They  found  their  companion  writhing  and  gasp- 
ing, and  almost  dead,  in  the  gripe  of  the  gigantic 
Indian.  They  seized  the  cacique,  bound  him,  and 
carried  him  captive  to  a  deserted  Indian  village 
in  the  vicinity.  They  found  the  way  to  his  secret 
cave,  but  his  wife  and  children  having  received 
notice  of  his  capture  by  the  fugitive  Indians,  had 
taken  refuge  in  another  part  of  the  island.  In  the 
cavern  was  found  the  chain  with  which  a  number 
of  Indian  captives  had  been  bound,  who  had  risen 
upon  and  slain  three  Spaniards  who  had  them  in 
charge,  and  had  made  their  escape  to  this  island. 
There  were  also  the  swords  of  the  same  Span- 
iards, which  they  had  brought  off  as  trophies  to 
their  cacique.  The  chain  was  now  employed  to 
manacle  Cotabanama. 

The  Spaniards  prepared  to  execute  the  chief- 
tain on  the  spot,  in  the  centre  of  the  deserted  vil- 
lage. For  this  purpose  a  pyre  was  built  of  logs 
of  wood  laid  crossways,  in  form  of  a  gridiron,  on 
which  he  was  to  be  slowly  broiled  to  death.  On 
further  consultation,  however,  they  were  induced 
to  forego  the  pleasure  of  this  horrible  sacrifice. 
Perhaps  they  thought  the  cacique  too  important  a 
personage  to  be  executed  thus  obscurely.  Grant- 
ing him,  therefore,  a  transient  reprieve,  they  con- 
veyed him  to  the  caravel  and  sent  him,  bound  with 
heavy  chains,  to  San  Domingo.  Ovandosaw  him 
in  his  power,  and  incapable  of  doing  further 
harm  ;  but  he  had  not  the  magnanimity  to  forgive 
a  fallen  enemy,  whose  only  crime  was  the  defence 
of  his  native  soil  and  lawful  territory.  He  order- 
ed him  to  be  publicly  hanged  like  a  common  cul- 
prit.* In  this  ignominious  manner  was  the  ca- 
cique Cotabanama  executed,  the  last  of  the  five 
sovereign  princes  of  Hayti.  His  death  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  complete  subjugation  of  his  people, 
and  sealed  the  last  struggle  of  the  natives  against 
their  oppressors.  The  island  was  almost  unpeo- 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  18. 


pled  of  its  original  inhabitants,  and  meek  and 
mournful  submission  and  mute  despair  settled 
upon  the  scanty  remnant  that  survived. 

Such  was  the  ruthless  system  which  had  been 
pursued,  during  the  absence  of  the  admiral,  by 
the  commander  Ovando  ;  this  man  of  boasted 
prudence  and  moderation,  who  was  sent  to  re- 
form the  abuses  of  the  island,  and  above  all,  to 
redress  the  wrongs  of  the  natives.  The  system 
of  Columbus  may  have  borne  hard  upon  the  In- 
dians, born  and  brought  up  in  untasked  freedom, 
but  it  was  never  cruel  nor  sanguinary.  He  in- 
flicted no  wanton  massacres  nor  vindictive  pun- 
ishments ;  his  desire  was  to  cherish  and  civilize 
the  Indians,  and  to  render  them  useful  subjects  ; 
not  to  oppress,  and  persecute,  and  destroy  them. 
When  he  beheld  the  desolation  that  had  swept  them 
from  the  land  during  his  suspension  from  author- 
ity, he  could  not  restrain  the  strong  expression  of 
his  feelings.  In  a  letter  written  to  the  king  after 
his  return  to  Spain,  he  thus  expresses  himself  on 
the  subject :  "  The  Indians  of  Hispaniola  were 
and  are  the  riches  of  the  island  ;  for  it  is  they  who 
cultivate  and  make  the  bread  and  the  provisions 
for  the  Christians  ;  who  dig  the  gold  from  the 
mines,  and  perform  all  the  offices  and  labors  both 
of  men  and  beasts.  I  am  informed  that,  since  I 
left  this  island,  six  parts  out  of  seven  of  the  na- 
tives are  dead  ;  all  through  ill  treatment  and  in- 
humanity ;  some  by  the  sword,  others  by  blows 
and  cruel  usage,  others  through  hunger.  The 
greater  part  have  perished  in  the  mountains  and 
glens,  whither  they  had  fled,  from  not  being  able 
to  support  the  labor  imposed  upon  them."  For 
his  own  part,  he  added,  although  he  had  sent 
many  Indians  to  Spain  to  be  sold,  it  was  always 
with  a  view  to  their  being  instructed  in  the  Chris- 
tian faith,  and  in  civilized  arts  and  usages,  and 
afterward  sent  back  to  their  island  to  assist  in  civ- 
ilizing their  countrymen.* 

The  brief  view  that  has  been  given  of  the  policy 
of  Ovando  on  certain  points  on  which  Columbus 
was  censured,  may  enable  the  reader  to  judge 
more  correctly  of  the  conduct  of  the  latter.  It  is 
not  to  be  measured  by  the  standard  of  right  and 
wrong  established  in  the  present  more  enlightened 
age.  We  must  consider  him  in  connection  with 
the  era  in  which  he  lived.  By  comparing  his 
measures  with  those  men  of  his  own  times  praised 
for  their  virtues  and  abilities,  placed  in  precisely 
his  own  situation,  and  placed  there  expressly  to 
correct  his  faults,  we  shall  be  the  better  able  to 
judge  how  virtuously  and  wisely  under  the  pecul- 
iar circumstances  of  the  case,  he  may  be  consid- 
ered to  have  governed. 


*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  36. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


221 


BOOK   XVIII. 


CHAPTER  I. 


DEPARTURE  OF  COLUMBUS   FOR  SAN  DOMINGO — 
HIS   RETURN  TO  SPAIN. 

THE  arrival  at  Jamaica  of  the  two  vessels  under 
the  command  of  Salcedo  had  caused  a  joyful  re- 
verse in  the  situation  of  Columbus.  He  hastened 
to  leave  the  wreck  in  which  he  had  been  so  long 
immured,  and  hoisting  his  flag  on  board  of  one 
of  the  ships,  felt  as  if  the  career  of  enterprise  and 
glory  were  once  more  open  to  him.  The  late 
partisans  of  Porras,  when  they  heard  of  the  arrival 
of  the  ships,  came  wistful  and  abject  to  the  har- 
bor, doubting  how  far  they  might  trust  to  the 
magnanimity  ot  a  man  whom  they  had  so  greatly 
injured,  and  who  had  now  an  opportunity  of  ven- 
geance. The  generous  mind,  however,  never  har- 
bors revenge  in  the  hour  of  returning  prosperity  ; 
but  feels  noble  satisfaction  in  sharing  its  happi- 
ness even  with  its  enemies.  Columbus  forgot,  in 
his  present  felicity,  all  that  he  had  suffered  from 
these  men  ;  he  ceased  to  consider  them  enemies, 
now  that  they  had  lost  the  power  to  injure  ;  and 
he  not  only  fulfilled  all  that  he  had  promised 
them,  by  taking  them  on  board  the  ships,  but  re- 
lieved their  necessities  from  his  own  purse,  until 
their  return  to  Spain  ;  and  afterward  took  unwea- 
ried pains  to  recommend  them  to  the  bounty  of  the 
sovereigns.  Francisco  Porras  alone  continued  a 
prisoner,  to  be  tried  by  the  tribunals  of  his  coun- 
try. 

Oviedo  assures  us  that  the  Indians  wept  when 
they  beheld  the  departure  of  the  Spaniards  ;  still 
considering  them  as  beings  from  the  skies.  From 
the  admiral,  it  is  true,  they  had  experienced  noth- 
ing but  just  and  gentle  treatment,  and  continual 
benefits  ;  and  the  idea  of  his  immediate  influence 
with  the  Deity,  manifested  on  the  memorable  occa- 
sion of  the  eclipse,  may  have  made  them  consider 
him  as  more  than  human,  and  his  presence  as 
propitious  to  their  island  ;  but  it  is  not  easy  to  be- 
lieve that  a  lawless  gang  like  that  of  Porras  could 
have  been  ranging  for  months  among  their  vil- 
lages, without  giving  cause  for  the  greatest  joy  at 
their  departure. 

On  the  28th  of  June  the  vessels  set  sail  for  San 
Domingo.  The  adverse  winds  and  currents 
which  had  opposed  Columbus  throughout  this  ill- 
starred  expedition  still  continued  to  harass  him. 
After  a  weary  struggle  of  several  weeks  he 
reached,  on  the  3d  of  August,  the  little  island  of 
Beata,  on  the  coast  of  Hispaniola.  Between  this 
place  and  San  Domingo  the  currents  are  so  vio- 
lent that  vessels  are  often  detained  months,  wait- 
ing for  sufficient  wind  to  enable  them  to  stem  the 
stream.  Hence  Columbus  dispatched  a  letter  by 
land  to  Ovando,  to  inform  him  of  his  approach, 
and  to  remove  certain  absurd  suspicions  of  his 
views,  which  he  had  learnt  from  Salcedo  were 
still  entertained  by  the  governor  ;  who  feared  his 
arrival  in  the  island  might  produce  factions  and 
disturbances.  In  this  letter  he  expresses,  with 
his  usual  warmth  and  simplicity,  the  joy  he  felt  at 
his  deliverance,  which  was  so  great,  he  says,  that, 
since  the  arrival  ot  Diego  de  Salcedo  with  succor, 
he  had  scarcely  been  able  to  sleep.  The  letter 
had  barely  time  to  precede  the  writer,  for,  a  fa- 
vorable wind  springing  up,  the  vessels  again 


made  sail,  and,  on  the  I3th  of  August,  anchored 
in  the  harbor  of  San  Domingo. 

If  it  is  the  lot  of  prosperity  to  awaken  envy  and 
excite  detraction,  it  is  certainly  the  lot  of  misfor- 
tune to  atone  for  a  multitude  of  faults.  San  Do- 
mingo had  been  the  very  hot-bed  of  sedition 
against  Columbus  in  the  day  of  his  power  ;  he  had 
been  hurried  from  it  in  ignominious  chains, 
amid  the  shouts  and  taunts  of  the  triumphant 
rabble  ;  he  had  been  excluded  from  its  harbor 
when,  as  commander  of  a  squadron,  he  craved 
shelter  from  an  impending  tempest  ;  but  now 
that  he  arrived  in  its  waters,  a  broken  down  and 
shipwrecked  man,  all  past  hostility  was  overpow- 
ered by  the  popular  sense  of  his  late  disasters. 
There  was  a  momentary  burst  of  enthusiasm  in 
his  favor  ;  what  had  been  denied  to  his  merit  was 
granted  to  his  misfortune  ;  and  even  the  envious, 
appeased  by  his  present  reverses,  seemed  to  forgive 
him  for  having  once  been  so  triumphant. 

The  governor  and  principal  inhabitants  came 
forth  to  meet  him,  and  received  him  with  signal 
distinction.  He  was  lodged  as  a  guest  in  the  house 
of  Ovando,  who  treated  him  with  the  utmost 
courtesy  and  attention.  The  governor  was  a 
shrewd  and  discreet  man,  and  much  of  a  court- 
ier ;  but  there  were  causes  of  jealousy  and  dis- 
trust between  him  and  Columbus  too  deep  to  per- 
mit of  cordial  intercourse.  The  admiral  and  his 
son  Fernando  always  pronounced  the  civility  of 
Ovando  overstrained  and  hypocritical  ;  intended 
to  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  past  neglect, 
and  to  conceal  lurking  enmity.  While  he  profess- 
ed the  utmost  friendship  and  sympathy  for  the 
admiral,  he  set  at  liberty  the  traitor  Porras,  who 
was  still  a  prisoner,  to  be  taken  to  Spain  for  trial. 
He  also  talked  of  punishing  those  of  the  ad- 
miral's people  who  had  taken  arms  in  his  de- 
fence, and  in  the  affray  at  Jamaica  had  killed 
several  of  the  mutineers.  These  circumstances 
were  loudly  complained  of  by  Columbus  ;  but,  in 
fact,  they  rose  out  of  a  question  of  jurisdiction  be- 
tween him  and  the  governor.  Their  powers  were 
so  undefined  as  to  clash  with  each  other,  and  they 
were  both  disposed  to  be  extremely  punctilious. 
Ovando  assumed  a  right  to  take  cognizance  of  all 
transactions  at  Jamaica  ;  as  happening  within  the 
limits  of  his  government,  which  included  all  the 
islands  and  Terra  Firma.  Columbus,  on  the  other 
hand,  asserted  the  absolute  command,  and  the 
jurisdiction  both  civil  and  criminal  given  to  him 
by  the  sovereigns,  over  all  persons  who  sailed  in 
his  expedition,  from  the  time  of  departure  until 
their  return  to  Spain.  To  prove  this,  he  produced 
his  letter  of  instructions.  The  governor  heard 
him  with  great  courtesy  and  a  smiling  counte- 
nance ;  but  observed  that  the  letter  ot  instructions 
gave  him  no  authority  within  the  bounds  of  his 
government.*  He  relinquished  the  idea,  how- 
ever, of  investigating  the  conduct  of  the  followers 
of  Columbus,  and  sent  Porras  to  Spain,  to  be  ex- 
amined by  the  board  which  had  charge  of  the 
affairs  of  the  Indies. 

The  sojourn  of  Columbus  at  San  Domingo  was 
but  little  calculated  to  yield  him  satisfaction.  He 
was  grieved  at  the  desolation  of  the  island  by  the 


*  Letter  of  Columbus   to  his  son  Diego,  Seville, 
Nov.  21,  1504.     Navarrete,  Colec.,  torn.  i. 


223 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


oppressive  treatment  of  the  natives,  and  the  hor- 
rible massacre  which  had  been  perpetrated  by 
Ovando  and  his  agents.  He  had  fondly  hoped, 
at  one  time,  to  render  the  natives  civilized,  indus- 
trious, and  tributary  subjects  to  the  crown,  and  to 
derive  from  their  well-regulated  labor  a  great  and 
steady  revenue.  How  different  had  been  the 
event  !  The  five  great  tribes  which  peopled  the 
mountains  and  the  valleys  at  the  time  of  the  dis- 
covery, and  rendered,  by  their  mingled  towns  and 
villages  and  tracts  of  cultivation,  the  rich  levels 
of  the  vegas  so  many  "  painted  gardens,"  had  al- 
most all  passed  away,  and  the  native  princes  had 
perished  chiefly  by  violent  or  ignominious  deaths. 
Columbus  regarded  the  affairs  of  the  island  with 
a  different  eye  from  Ovando.  He  had  a  paternal 
feeling  for  its  prosperity,  and  his  fortunes  were 
implicated  in  its  judicious  management.  He 
complained,  in  subsequent  letters  to  the  sov- 
ereigns, that  all  the  public  affairs  were  ill  con- 
ducted ;  that  the  ore  collected  lay  unguarded  in 
large  quantities  in  houses  slightly  built  and 
thatched,  inviting  depredation  ;  that  Ovando  was 
unpopular,  the  people  were  dissolute,  and  the 
property  of  the  crown  and  the  security  of  the 
island  in  continual  risk  from  mutiny  and  sedition.* 
While  he  saw  all  this,  he  had  no  power  to  inter- 
fere, and  any  observation  or  remonstrance  on  his 
part  was  ill  received  by  the  governor. 

He  found  his  own  immediate  concerns  in  great 
confusion.  His  rents  and  dues  were  either  un- 
collected,  or  he  could  not  obtain  a  clear  account 
and  a  full  liquidation  of  them.  Whatever  he 
could  collect  was  appropriated  to  the  fitting  out 
of  the  vessels  which  were  to  convey  himself  and 
his  crews  to  Spain.  He  accuses  Ovando,  in  his 
subsequent  letters,  of  having  neglected,  if  not  sac- 
rificed, his  interests  during  his  long  absence,  and 
ot  having  impeded  those  who  were  appointed  to 
attend  to  his  concerns.  That  he  had  some 
grounds  for  these  complaints  would  appear  from 
two  letters  still  extant, f  written  by  Queen  Isabella 
to  Ovando,  on  the  2/th  of  November,  1503,  in 
which  she  informs  him  of  the  complaint  of  Alonzo 
Sanchez  de  Carvajal.  that  he  was  impeded  in  col- 
lecting the  rents  of  the  admiral  ;  and  expressly 
commands  Ovando  to  observe  the  capitulations 
granted  to  Columbus  ;  to  respect  his  agents,  and 
to  facilitate,  instead  of  obstructing  his  concerns. 
These  letters,  while  they  imply  ungenerous  con- 
duct on  the  part  of  the  governor  toward  his  illus- 
trious predecessor,  evince  likewise  the  personal 
interest  taken  by  Isabella  in  the  affairs  of  Colum- 
bus, during  his  absence.  She  had,  in  fact,  signi- 
fied her  displeasure  at  his  being  excluded  from 
the  port  ot  San  Domingo,  when  he  applied  there 
for  succor  for  his  squadron,  and  for  shelter  from 
a  storm,  and  had  censured  Ovando  for  not  taking 
his  advice  and  detaining  the  fleet  of  Bobadilla,  by 
which  it  would  have  escaped  its  disastrous  fate.J 
And  here  it  may  be  observed  that  the  sanguinary 
acts  of  Ovando  toward  the  natives,  in  particular 
the  massacre  at  Xaragua  and  the  execution  of 
the  unfortunate  Anacaona,  awakened  equal  hor- 
ror and  indignation  in  Isabella  ;  she  was  languish- 
ing on  her  death-bed  when  she  received  the  intel- 
ligence, and  with  her  dying  breath  she  exacted  a 
promise  from  King  Ferdinand  that  Ovando  should 
immediately  be  recalled  from  his  government. 
The  promise  was  tardily  and  reluctantly  fulfilled, 


*  Letter  of  Columbus  to  his  son  Diego,  dated  Sev- 
ille, 3d  Dec.,  1504.     Navarrete,  torn.  i.  p.  341. 
JNavarrete,  Colec.,  torn,  ii.,  decad.  151,  152. 
Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  v.  cap.  12. 


after  an  interval  of  about  four  years,  and  not  until 
induced  by  other  circumstances  ;  for  Ovando  con- 
trived to  propitiate  the  monarch,  by  forcing  a  rev- 
enue from  the  island. 

The  continual  misunderstandings  between  the 
admiral  and  the  governor,  though  always  qualified 
on  the  part  of  the  latter  with  great  complaisance, 
induced  Columbus  to  hasten  as  much  as  possible 
his  departure  from  the  island.  The  ship  in  which 
he  had  returned  from  Jamaica  was  repaired  and 
fitted  out,  and  put  under  the  command  of  the 
Adelantado  ;  another  vessel  was  freighted,  in 
which  Columbus  embarked  with  his  son  and  his 
domestics.  The  greater  part  of  his  late  crews 
remained  at  San  Domingo  ;  as  they  were  in  great 
poverty,  he  relieved  their  necessities  Irom  his  own 
purse,  and  advanced  the  funds  necessary  for  the 
voyage  home  of  those  who  chose  to  return.  Many 
thus  relieved  by  his  generosity  had  been  among 
the  most  violent  of  the  rebels. 

On  the  1 2th  of  September  he  set  sail  ;  but  ha:l 
scarcely  left  the  harbor  when,  in  a  sudden  squall, 
the  mast  of  his  ship  was  carried  away.  He  im- 
mediately went  with  his  family  on  board  ot  the 
vessel  commanded  by  the  Adelantado,  and,  send- 
ing back  the  damaged  ship  to  port,  continued  on 
his  course.  Throughout  the  voyage  he  experi- 
enced the  most  tempestuous  weather.  In  one 
storm  the  mainmast  was  sprung  in  four  places. 
He  was  confined  to  his  bed  at  the  time  by  the 
gout  ;  by  his  advice,  however,  and  the  activity  of 
the  Adelantado,  the  damage  was  skilfully  repair- 
ed ;  the  mast  was  shortened  ;  the  weak  parts  were 
fortified  by  wood  taken  from  the  castles  or  cab- 
ins, which  the  vessels  in  those  days  carried  on  the 
prow  and  stern  ;  and  the  whole  was  well  secured 
by  cords.  They  were  still  more  damaged  in  a 
succeeding  tempest,  in  which  the  ship  sprung  her 
foremast.  In  this  crippled  state  they  had  to  trav- 
erse seven  hundred  leagues  of  a  stormy  ocean. 
Fortune  continued  to  persecute  Columbus  to  the 
end  of  this,  his  last  and  most  disastrous  expedi- 
tion. For  several  weeks  he  was  tempest-tossed — 
suffering  at  the  same  time  the  most  excruciating 
pains  from  his  malady — until,  on  the  seventh  day 
of  November,  his  crazy  and  shattered  bark  an- 
chored in  the  harbor  of  San  Lucar.  Hence  he  had 
himself  conveyed  to  Seville,  where  he  hoped  to 
enjoy  repose  of  mind  and  body,  and  to  recruit  his 
health  after  such  a  long  series  of  fatigues,  anxi- 
eties, and  hardships.* 


CHAPTER  II. 

ILLNESS  OF  COLUMBUS  AT  SEVILLE — APPLICATION 
TO  THE  CROWN  FOR  A  RESTITUTION  OF  HIS 
HONORS — DEATH  OF  ISABELLA. 

[1504.] 

BROKEN  by  age  and  infirmities,  and  worn  down 
by  the  toils  and  hardships  of  his  recent  expedition, 
Columbus  had  looked  forward  to  Seville  as  to  a 
haven  of  rest,  where  he  might  repose  awhile  from 
his  troubles.  Care  and  sorrow,  however,  followed 
him  by  sea  and  land.  In  varying  the  scene  he 
but  varied  the  nature  of  his  distress.  "  Weari- 
some days  and  nights"  were  appointed  to  him 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life  ;  and  the  very  mar- 
gin of  his  grave  was  destined  to  be  strewed  with 
thorns. 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  108.     Las  Casas,  Hist. 
Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  36. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


223 


On  arriving  at  Seville,  he  found  all  his  affairs 
in  confusion.  Ever  since  he  had  been  sent  home 
in  chains  from  San  Domingo,  when  his  house  and 
effects  had  been  taken  possession  of  by  Boba- 
dilla,  his  rents  and  dues  had  never  been  properly 
collected  ;  and  such  as  had  been  gathered  had 
been  retained  in  the  hands  of  the  governor  Ovan- 
do.  "  I  have  much  vexation  from  the  governor," 
says  he  in  a  letter  to  his  son  Diego.*  "  All  tell 
me  that  I  have  there  eleven  or  twelve  thousand 
castellanos  ;  and  I  have  not  received  a  quarto. 
*  *  *  I  know  well  that,  since  my  departure 
he  must  have  received  upward  of  five  thou- 
sand castellanos."  He  entreated  that  a  letter 
might  be  written  by  the  king,  commanding  the 
payment  of  these  arrears  without  delay  ;  for  his 
agents  would  not  venture  even  to  speak  to  Ovando 
on  the  subject,  unless  empowered  by  a  letter  from 
the  sovereign. 

Columbus  was  not  of  a  mercenary  spirit ;  but 
his  rank  and  situation  required  large  expenditure. 
The  world  thought  him  in  the  possession  of 
sources  of  inexhaustible  wealth  ;  but  as  yet  those 
sources  had  furnished  him  but  precarious  and 
scanty  streams.  His  last  voyage  had  exhausted 
his  finances,  and  involved  him  in  perplexities. 
All  that  he  had  been  able  to  collect  of  the  money 
due  to  him  in  Hispaniola,  to  the  amount  of  twelve 
hundred  castellanos,  had  been  expended  in  bring- 
ing home  many  of  his  late  crew,  who  were  in  dis- 
tress ;  and  for  the  greater  part  of  the  sum  the 
crown  remained  his  debtor.  While  struggling  to 
obtain  his  mere  pecuniary  dues,  he  was  absolute- 
ly suffering  a  degree  of  penury.  He  repeatedly 
urges  the  necessity  of  economy  to  his  son  Diego, 
until  he  can  obtain  a  restitution  of  his  property, 
and  the  payment  of  his  arrears.  "  I  receive  noth- 
ing of  the  revenue  due  tome,"  says  he,  in  one 
letter  ;  "I  live  by  borrowing."  "  Little  have  I 
profited,"  he  adds,  in  another,  "  by  twenty  years 
of  service,  with  such  toils  and  perils  ;  since,  at 
present,  I  do  not  own  a  roof  in  Spain.  If  I  desire 
to  eat  or  sleep,  I  have  no  resort  but  an  inn  ;  and, 
for  the  most  times,  have  not  wherewithal  to  pay  my 
bill." 

Yet  in  the  midst  of  these  personal  distresses 
he  was  more  solicitous  for  the  payment  of  his 
seamen  than  of  himself.  He  wrote  strongly  and 
repeatedly  to  the  sovereigns,  entreating  the  dis- 
charge of  their  arrears,  and  urged  his  son  Diego, 
who  was  at  court,  to  exert  himself  in  their  behalf. 
"  They  are  poor,"  said  he,  "  and  it  is  now  nearly 
three  years  since  they  left  their  homes.  They 
have  endured  infinite  toils  and  perils,  and  they 
bring  invaluable  tidings,  for  which  their  majesties 
ought  to  give  thanks  to  God  and  rejoice."  Not- 
withstanding his  generous  solicitude  for  these 
men,  he  knew  several  of  them  to  have  been  his 
enemies  ;  nay,  that  some  of  them  were  at  this 
very  time  disposed  to  do  him  harm  rather  than 
good  ;  such  was  the  magnanimity  of  his  spirit 
and  his  forgiving  disposition. 

The  same  zeal,  also,  for  the  interests  of  his  sov- 
ereigns, which  had  ever  actuated  his  loyal  mind, 
mingled  with  his  other  causes  of  solicitude.  He 
represented,  in  his  letter  to  the  king,  the  misman- 
agement of  the  royal  rents  in  Hispaniola,  under 
the  administration  of  Ovando.  Immense  quanti- 
ties of  ore  lay  unprotected  in  slightly  built  houses, 
and  liable  to  depredations.  It  required  a  person 
of  vigor,  and  one  who  had  an  individual  interest 


*  Let.    Seville,  13  Dec.,   1504.     Navarrete,  v.  i.  p. 
343- 


in  the  property  of  the  island,  to  restore  its  affairs 
to  order,  and  draw  from  it  the  immense  revenues 
which  it  was  capable  of  yielding  ;  and  Columbus 
plainly  intimated  that  he  was  the  proper  person. 

In  fact,  as  to  himself,  it  was  not  so  much  pecu- 
niary indemnification  that  he  sought,  as  the  res- 
toration of  his  offices  and  dignities.  He  regarded 
them  as  the  trophies  of  his  illustrious  achieve- 
ments ;  he  had  received  the  royal  promise  that  he 
should  be  reinstated  in  them  ;  and  he  felt  that  as 
long  as  they  were  withheld,  a  tacit  censure  rested 
upon  his  name.  Had  he  not  been  proudly  impa- 
tient, on  this  subject  he  would  have  belied  the  loft- 
iest part  of  his  character  ;  for  he  who  can  be 
indifferent  to  the  wreath  of  triumph  is  deficient 
in  the  noble  ambition  which  incites  to  glorious 
deeds. 

The  unsatisfactory  replies  received  to  his  letters 
disquieted  his  mind.  He  knew  that  he  had  active 
enemies  at  court  ready  to  turn  all  things  to  his  dis- 
advantage, and  felt  the  importance  of  being  there 
in  person  to  defeat  their  machinations  ;  but  his 
infirmities  detained  him  at  Seville.  He  made  an 
attempt  to  set  forth  on  the  journey,  but  the  se- 
verity of  the  winter  and  the  virulence  of  his  mal- 
ady obliged  him  to  relinquish  it  in  despair.  All 
that  he  could  do  was  to  reiterate  his  letters  to  the 
sovereigns,  and  to  entreat  the  intervention  of  his 
few  but  faithful  friends.  He  feared  the  disastrous 
occurrences  of  the  last  voyage  might  be  repre- 
sented to  his  prejudice.  The  great  object  of  the 
expedition,  the  discovery  of  a  strait  opening  from 
the  Caribbean  to  a  southern  sea,  had  failed.  The 
secondary  object,  the  acquisition  of  gold,  had  not 
been  completed.  He  had  discovered  the  gold 
mines  of  Veragua,  it  is  true  ;  but  he  had  brought 
home  no  treasure  ;  because,  as  he  said,  in  one  of 
his  letters,  "  I  would  not  rob  nor  outrage  the 
country  ;  since  reason  requires  that  it  should  be 
settled,  and  then  the  gold  may  be  procured  without 
violence." 

He  was  especially  apprehensive  that  the  violent 
scenes  in  the  island  of  Jamaica  might,  by  the  per- 
versity of  his  enemies  and  the  effrontery  of  the 
delinquents,  be  wrested  into  matters  of  accusa- 
tion against  him,  as  had  been  the  case  with  the 
rebellion  of  Rolclan.  Porras,  the  ringleader  of 
the  late  faction,  had  been  sent  home  by  Ovando, 
to  appear  before  the  board  of  the  Indies,  but 
without  any  written  process,  setting  forth  the 
offences  charged  against  him.  While  at  Jamaica 
Columbus  had  ordered  an  inquest  ol  the  affair  to 
be  taken  ;  but  the  notary  of  the  squadron  who 
took  it,  and  the  papers  which  he  drew  up,  were 
on  boartl  of  the  ship  in  which  the  admiral  had 
sailed  from  Hispaniola,  but  which  had  put  back 
dismasted.  No  cognizance  of  the  case,  therefore, 
was  taken  by  the  Council  of  the  Indies  ;  and  Por- 
ras went  at  large,  armed  with  the  power  and  the 
disposition  to  do  mischief.  Being  related  to  Mo- 
rales, the  royal  treasurer,  he  had  access  to  people 
in  place,  and  an  opportunity  of  enlisting  their 
opinions  and  prejudices  on  his  side.  Columbus 
wrote  to  Morales,  inclosing  a  copy  of  the  petition 
which  the  rebels  had  sent  to  him  when  in  Ja- 
maica, in  which  they  acknowledged  their  culpa- 
bility, and  implored  his  forgiveness;  and  he  en- 
treated the  treasurer  not  to  be  swayed  by  the  rep- 
resentations of  his  relative,  nor  to  pronounce  an 
opinion  unfavorable  to  him,  until  he  had  an  op- 
portunity of  being  heard. 

The  faithful  and  indefatigable  Diego  Mendez 
was  at  this  time  at  the  court,  as  well  as  Alonzo 
Sanchez  de  Carvajal,  and  an  active  friend  of  Co- 


224 


LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  COLUMBUS. 


lumbus  named  Geronimo.  They  could  bear  the 
most  important  testimony  as  to  his  conduct,  and 
he  wrote  to  his  son  Diego  to  call  upon  ihem  for 
their  good  offices.  "I  trust,"  said  he,  "that 
the  truth  and  diligence  of  Uiego  Mendez  will  be 
of  as  much  avail  as  the  lies  of  Porras."  Nothing 
can  surpass  the  affecting  earnestness  and  sim- 
plicity of  the  general  declaration  of  loyalty,  con- 
tained in  one  of  his  letters.  "  I  have  served  their 
majesties,"  says  he,  "  with  as  much  zeal  and  dil- 
igence as  if  it  had  been  to  gain  Paradise  ;  and  if 
I  have  failed  in  anything,  it  has  been  because  my 
knowledge  and  powers  went  no  further. " 

While  reading  these  touching  appeals  we  can 
scarcely  realize  the  fact  that  the  dejected  individ- 
ual thus  wearily  and  vainly  applying  for  unques- 
tionable rights,  and  pleading  almost  like  a  cul- 
prit, in  cases  wherein  he  had  been  flagrantly  in- 
jured, was  the  same  who  but  a  few  years  pre- 
viously had  been  received  at  this  very  court  with 
almost  regal  honors,  and  idolized  as  a  national 
benefactor  ;  that  this,  in  a  word,  was  Columbus, 
the  discoverer  of  the  New  World  ;  broken  in 
health,  and  impoverished  in  his  old  days  by  his 
very  discoveries. 

At  length  the  caravel  bringing  the  official  pro- 
ceedings relative  to  the  brothers  Porras  arrived  at 
the  Algarves,  in  Portugal,  and  Columbus  looked 
forward  with  hope  that  all  matters  would  soon 
be  placed  in  a  proper  light.  His  anxiety  to  get  to 
court  became  every  day  more  intense.  A  litter 
was  provided  to  convey  him  thither,  and  was  act- 
ually at  the  door,  but  the  inclemency  of  the 
weather  and  his  increasing  infirmities  obliged 
him  again  to  abandon  the  journey.  His  resource 
of  letter-writing  began  to  fail  him  :  he  could  only 
write  at  night,  for  in  the  daytime  the  severity  ot 
his  malady  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  hands. 
The  tidings  from  the  court  were  every  day  more 
and  more  adverse  to  his  hopes  ;  the  intrigues  of 
his  enemies  were  prevailing  ;  the  cold-hearted 
Ferdinand  treated  all  his  applications  with  indif- 
ference ;  the  generous  Isabella  lay  dangerously 
ill.  On  her  justice  and  magnanimity  he  still  re- 
lied for  the  full  restoration  of  his  rights,  and  the 
redress  of  all  his  grievances.  "  May  it  please 
the  Holy  Trinity,"  says  he,  "  to  restore  our  sov- 
ereign queen  to  health  ;  for  by  her  will  every- 
thing be  adjusted  which  is  now  in  confusion." 
Alas  !  while  writing  that  letter,  his  noble  bene- 
factress was. a  corpse  ! 

The  health  of  Isabella  had  long  been  under- 
mined by  the  shocks  of  repeated  domestic  calam- 
ities. The  death  of  her  only  son,  the  Prince  Juan  ; 
of  her  beloved  daughter  and  bosom  friend,  the 
Princess  Isabella  ;  and  of  her  grandson  and  pros- 
pective heir,  the  Prince  Miguel,  had  been  three 
cruel  wounds  to  a  heart  full  of  the  tenderest  sen- 
sibility. To  these  was  added  the  constant  grief 
caused  by  the  evident  infirmity  ot  intellect  of  her 
daughter  Juana,  and  the  domestic  unhappiness  of 
that  princess  with  her  husband,  the  archduke 
Philip.  The  desolation  which  .  walks  through 
palaces  admits  not  the  familiar  sympathies  and 
sweet  consolations  which  alleviate  the  sorrows  of 
common  life.  Isabella  pined  in  state,  amidst 
the  obsequious  homages  of  a  court,  surrounded 
by  the  trophies  of  a  glorious  and  successful  reign, 
and  placed  at  the  summit  of  earthly  grandeur. 
A  deep  and  incurable  melancholy  settled  upon 
her,  which  undermined  her  constitution,  and 
gave  a  fatal  acuteness  to  her  bodily  maladies. 
After  four  months  of  illness  she  died,  on  the  26th 
of  November,  1504,  at  Medina  del  Campo,  in  the 


fifty-fourth  year  of  her  age  ;  but  long  before  her 
eyes  closed  upon  the  world,  her  heart  had  closed 
on  all  its  pomps  and  vanities.  "  Let  my  body," 
said  she  in  her  will,  "  be  interred  in  the  monastery 
of  San  Francisco,  which  is  in  the  Alhambra  of  the 
city  of  Granada,  in  a  low  sepulchre,  without  any 
monument  except  a  plain  stone,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion cut  on  it.  But  I  desire  and  command,  that 
if  the  king,  my  lord,  should  choose  a  sepulchre  in 
any  church  or  monastery  in  any  other  part  or 
place  of  these  my  kingdoms,  my  body  be  trans- 
ported thither,  and  buried  beside  the  body  of  his 
highness  ;  so  that  the  union  we  have  enjoyed 
while  living,  and  which,  through  the  mercy  of 
God,  we  hope  our  souls  will  experience  in  heaven, 
may  be  represented  by  our  bodies  in  the  earth."* 

Such  was  one  of  several  passages  in  the  will  of 
this  admirable  woman,  which  bespoke  the  chas- 
tened humility  of  her  heart  ;  and  in  which,  as  has 
been  well  observed,  the  affections  of  conjugal 
love  were  delicately  entwined  with  piety,  and  with 
the  most  tender  melancholy.f  She  was  one  of  the 
purest  spirits  that  ever  ruled  over  the  destinies  of 
a  nation.  Had  she  been  spared,  her  benignant 
vigilance  would  have  prevented  many  a  scene  of 
horror  in  the  colonization  ot  the  New  World,  and 
might  have  softened  the  lot  of  its  native  inhabi- 
tants. As  it  is,  her  fair  name  will  ever  shine 
with  celestial  radiance  in  the  dawning  of  its  his- 
tory. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Isabella  reached  Co- 
lumbus when  he  was  writing  a  letter  to  his  son 
Diego.  He  notices  it  in  a  postscript  or  memoran- 
dum, written  in  the  haste  and  brevity  of  the  mo- 
ment, but  in  beautifully  touching  and  mournful 
terms.  "A  memorial,"  he  writes,  "for  thee, 
my  dear  son  Diego,  of  what  is  at  present  to  be 
done.  The  principal  thing  is  to  commend  affec- 
tionately, and  with  great  devotion,  the  soul  of  the 
queen  our  sovereign  to  God.  Her  life  was  al- 
ways catholic  and  holy,  and  prompt  to  all  things 
in  his  holy  service  ;  tor  this  reason  we  may  rest 
assured  that  she  is  received  into  his  glory,  and  be- 
yond the  cares  of  this  rough  and  weary  world. 
The  next  thing  is  to  watch  and  labor  in  all  mat- 
ters tor  the  service  of  our  sovereign  the  king,  and 
to  endeavor  to  alleviate  his  grief.  His  majesty  is 
the  head  of  Christendom.  Remember  the  prov- 
erb which  says,  when  the  head  suffers  all  the 
members  suffer.  Therefore,  all  good  Christians 
should  pray  for  his  health  and  long  life  ;  and  we 
who  are  in  his  employ  ought  more  than  others  to 
do  this  with  all  study  and  diligence.  "J 

It  is  impossible  to  read  this  mournful  letter 
without  being  moved  by  the  simply  eloquent  yet 
artless  language  in  which  Columbus  expresses 
his  tenderness  tor  the  memory  of  his  benefactress, 
his  weariness  under  the  gathering  cares  and  ills 
of  life,  and  his  persevering  and  enduring  loyalty 
toward  the  sovereign  who  was  so  ungratefully 
neglecting  him.  It  is  in  these  unstudied  and 
confidential  letters  that  we  read  the  heart  of  Co- 
lumbus. 


*  The  dying  command  of  Isabella  has  been  obeyed. 
The  autho'r  of  this  work  has  seen  her  tomb  in  the 
royal  chapel  of  the  Cathedral  of  Granada,  in  which 
her  remains  are  interred  with  those  of  Ferdinand. 
Their  effigies,  sculptured  in  white  marble,  lie  side  by 
side  on  a  magnificent  sepulchre.  The  altar  of  the 
chapel  is  adorned  with  bas-reliefs  representing  the 
conquest  and  surrender  of  Granada. 

f  Elogio  de  la  Reina  Catolica  por  D.  Diego  Cle- 
mencin.  Illustration  19. 

f  Letter  to  his  son  Diego,  Dec.  3.  1504. 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


225 


CHAPTER  III. 

COLUMBUS    ARRIVES    AT    COURT  —  FRUITLESS   AP- 
PLICATION   TO  THE   KING   FOR   REDRESS. 


THE  death  of  Isabella  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the 
fortunes  of  Columbus.  While  she  lived  he  had 
everything-  to  anticipate  from  her  high  sense  of 
justice,  her  regard  for  her  royal  word,  her  grati- 
tude for  his  services,  and  her  admiration  of  his 
character.  With  her  illness,  however,  his  inter- 
ests had  languished,  and  when  she  died  he  was 
left  to  the  justice  and  generosity  of  Ferdinand  ! 

During  the  remainder  of  the  winter  and  a  part 
of  the  spring  he  continued  at  Seville,  detained  by 
painful  illness,  and  endeavoring  to  obtain  re- 
dress from  the  government  by  ineffectual  letters. 
His  brother  the  Adelantado,  who  supported  him 
with  his  accustomed  fondness  and  devotion 
through  all  his  trials,  proceeded  to  court  to  attend 
to  his  interests,  taking  with  him  the  admiral's 
younger  son  Fernando,  then  aged  about  seven- 
teen. The  latter,  the  affectionate  father  repeat- 
edly represents  to  his  son  Diego  as  a  man  in  un- 
derstanding and  conduct,  though  but  a  stripling 
in  years  ;  and  inculcates  the  strongest  fraternal 
attachment,  alluding  to  his  own  brethren  with 
one  of  those  simply  eloquent  and  affecting  ex- 
pressions which  stamp  his  heart  upon  his  letters. 
"  To  thy  brother  conduct  thyself  as  the  elder 
brother  should  unto  the  younger.  Thou  hast  no 
other,  and  I  praise  God  that  this  is  such  a  one  as 
thou  dost  need.  Ten  brothers  would  not  be  too 
many  for  thee.  Never  have  I  found  a  better 
friend  to  right  or  left,  than  my  brothers." 

Among  the  persons  whom  Columbus  employed 
at  this  time  in  his  missions  to  the  court  was 
Amerigo  Vespucci.  He  describes  him  as  a 
worthy  but  unfortunate  man,  who  had  not  profited 
as  much  as  he  deserved  by  his  undertakings,  and 
who  had  always  been  disposed  to  render  him  ser- 
vice. His  object  in  employing  him  appears  to 
have  been  to  prove  the  value  of  his  last  voyage, 
and  that  he  had  been  in  the  most  opulent  parts  of 
the  New  World  ;  Vespucci  having  since  touched 
upon  the  same  coast,  in  a  voyage  with  Alonso  de 
Ojeda. 

One  circumstance  occurred  at  this  time  which 
shed  a  gleam  of  hope  and  consolation  over  his 
gloomy  prospects.  Diego  de  Deza,  who  had  been 
ior  some  time  Bishop  of  Palencia,  was  expected 
at  court.  This  was  the  same  worthy  friar  who 
had  aided  him  to  advocate  his  theory  before  the 
board  of  learned  men  at  Salamanca,  and  had  as- 
sisted him  with  his  purse  when  making  his  pro- 
posals to  the  Spanish  court.  He  had  just  been 
promoted  and  made  Archbishop  of  Seville,  but 
had  not  yet  been  installed  in  office.  Columbus 
directs  his  son  Diego  to  intrust  his  interests  to 
this  worthy  prelate.  "Two  things,"  says  he, 
"  require  particular5  attention.  Ascertain  \yhether 
the  queen,  who  is  now  with  God,  has  said  any- 
thing concerning  me  in  her  testament,  and  stim- 
ulate the  Bishop  of  Palencia,  he  who  was  the  cause 
that  their  highnesses  obtained  possession  of  the 
Indies,  who  induced  me  to  remain  in  Castile  when 
I  was  on  the  road  to  leave  it."*  In  another  letter 
he  says  :  "  If  the  Bishop  of  Palencia  has  arrived, 
or  should  arrive,  tell  him  how  much  I  have  been 
gratified  by  his  prosperity,  and  that  if  I  come,  I 
shall  lodge  with  his  grace,  even  though  he  should 

*  Letter  of  December  21,  1504.  Navarrete,  torn.  i. 
v.  346. 


not  invite  me,  for  we  must  return  to  our  ancient 
fraternal  affection." 

The  incessant  applications  of  Columbus,  both 
by  letter  and  by  the  intervention  of  friends,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  listened  to  with  cool  indiffer- 
ence. No  compliance  was  yielded  to  his  requests, 
and  no  deference  was  paid  to  his  opinions,  on  va- 
rious points,  concerning  which  he  interested  him- 
self. New  instructions  were  sent  out  to  Ovando, 
but  not  a  word  of  their  purport  was  mentioned  to 
the  admiral.  It  was  proposed  to  send  out  three 
bishops,  and  he  entreated  in  vain  to  be  heard  pre- 
vious to  their  election.  In  short,  he  was  not  in 
any  way  consulted  in  the  affairs  of  the  New 
World.  He  felt  deeply  this  neglect,  and  became 
every  day  more  impatient  of  his  absence  from 
court.  To  enable  himself  to  perform  the  journey 
with  more  ease,  he  applied  for  permission  to  use 
a  mule,  a  royal  ordinance  having  prohibited  the 
employment  of  those  animals  under  the  saddle,  in 
consequence  of  their  universal  use  having  occa- 
sioned a  decline  in  the  breed  of  horses.  A  royal 
permission  was  accordingly  granted  to  Colum- 
bus, in  consideration  that  his  age  and  infirmities 
incapacitated  him  from  riding  on  horseback  ;  but 
it  was  a  considerable  time  before  the  state  of  his 
health  would  permit  him  to  avail  himself  of  that 
privilege. 

The  foregoing  particulars,  gleaned  from  letters 
of  Columbus  recently  discovered,  show  the  real 
state  of  his  affairs,  and  the  mental  and  bodily 
affliction  sustained  by  him  during  his  winter's  res- 
idence at  Seville,  on  his  return  from  his  last  dis- 
astrous  voyage.  He  has  generally  been  repre- 
sented as  reposing  there  from  his  toils  and  trou- 
bles. Never  was  honorable  repose  more  mer- 
ited, more  desired,  and  less  enjoyed. 

It  was  not  until  the  month  of  May  that  he  was 
able,  in  company  with  his  brother  the  Adelanta- 
do, to  accomplish  his  journey  to  court,  at  that 
time  held  at  Segovia.  He  who  but  a  few  years 
before  had  entered  the  city  of  Barcelona  in  tri- 
umph, attended  by  the  nobility  and  chivalry  of 
Spain,  and  hailed  with  rapture  by  the  multitude, 
now  arrived  within  the  gates  of  Segovia,  a  way- 
worn, melancholy,  and  neglected  man  ;  oppressed 
more  by  sorrow  than  even  by  his  years  and  infirm- 
ities. When  he  presented  himself  at  court  he 
met  with  none  of  that  distinguished  attention, 
that  cordial  kindness,  that  cherishing  sympathy, 
which  his  unparalleled  sendees  and  his  recent 
sufferings  had  merited.* 

The  selfish  Ferdinand  had  lost  sight  of  his  past 
services,  in  what  appeared  to  him  the  inconven- 
ience of  his  present  demands.  He  received  him 
with  many  professions  of  kindness  ;  but  with 
those  cold,  ineffectual  smiles  which  pass  like 
wintry  sunshine  over  the  countenance,  and  con- 
vey no  warmth  to  the  heart. 

The  admiral  now  gave  a  particular  account  of 
his  late  voyage,  describing  the  great  tract  of  Ter- 
ra Firma,  which  he  had  explored,  and  the  riches 
of  the  province  of  Veragua.  He  related  also  the 
disaster  sustained  in  the  island  of  Jamaica  ;  the 
insurrection  of  the  Porras  and  their  band  ;  and 
all  the  other  griefs  and  troubles  of  this  unfortunate 
expedition.  He  had  but  a  cold-hearted  auditor 
in  the  king  ;  and  the  benignant  Isabella  was  no 
more  at  hand  to  soothe  him  with  a  smile  of  kind- 
ness or  a  tear  of  sympathy.  "  I  know  not," 
says  the  venerable  Las  Casas,  "  what  could  cause 
this  dislike  and  this  want  of  princely  countenance 


*  Las    Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  37.     Herrera, 
Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  vi.  cap.  13. 


22G 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


in  the  king  toward  one  who  had  rendered  him 
such  pre-eminent  benefits  ;  unless  it  was  that  his 
mind  was  swayed  by  the  false  testimonies  which 
had  been  brought  against  the  admiral  ;  of  which 
I  have  been  enabled  to  learn  something  from  per- 
sons much  in  favor  with  the  sovereigns."* 

After  a  few  days  had  elapsed  Columbus  urged 
his  suit  in  form,  reminding  the  king  of  all  that 
he  had  done,  and  all  that  had  been  promised  him 
under  the  royal  word  and  seal,  and  supplicating 
that  the  restitutions  and  indemnifications  which 
had  been  so  frequently  solicited,  might  be  award- 
ed to  him  ;  offering  in  return  to  serve  his  majesty 
devotedly  for  the  short  time  he  had  yet  to  live  ; 
and  trusting,  from  what  he  felt  within  him,  and 
from  what  he  thought  he  knew  with  certainty,  to 
render  services  which  should  surpass  all  that  he 
had  yet  performed  a  hundred-fold.  The  king,  in 
reply,  acknowledged  the  greatness  of  his  merits, 
and  the  importance  of  his  services,  but  observed 
that,  for  the  more  satisfactory  adjustment  of  his 
claims,  it  would  be  advisable  to  refer  all  points  in 
dispute  to  the  decision  of  some  discreet  and  able 
person.  The  admiral  immediately  proposed  as 
arbiter  his  friend  the  archbishop  of  Seville,  Don 
Diego  de  Deza,  one  of  the  most  able  and  upright 
men  about  the  court,  devotedly  loyal,  high  in 
the  confidence  of  the  king,  and  one  who  had  al- 
ways taken  great  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  New 
World.  The  king  consented  to  the  arbitration, 
but  artfully  extended  it  to  questions  which  he 
knew  would  never  be  put  at  issue  by  Columbus  ; 
among  these  was  his  claim  to  the  restoration  of  his 
office  of  viceroy.  To  this  Columbus  objected  with 
becoming  spirit,  as  compromising  a  right  which 
was  too  clearly  defined  and  solemnly  established, 
to  be  put  for  a  moment  in  dispute.  It  was  the 
question  of  rents  and  revenues  alone,  he  observed, 
which  he  was  willing  to  submit  to  the  decision  of 
a  learned  man,  not  that  of  the  government  of  the 
Indies.  As  the  monarch  persisted,  however,  in 
embracing  both  questions  in  the  arbitration,  the 
proposed  measure  was  never  carried  into  effect. 

It  was,  in  fact,  on  the  subject  of  his  dignities 
alone  that  Columbus  was  tenacious  ;  all  other 
matters  he  considered  of  minor  importance.  In 
a  conversation  with  the  king  he  absolutely  disa- 
vowed all  wish  of  entering  into  any  suit  or  plead- 
ing as  to  his  pecuniary  dues  ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
offered  to  put  all  his  privileges  and  writings  into 
the  hands  of  his  sovereign,  and  to  receive  out  of 
the  dues  arising  from  them,  whatever  his  majesty 
might  think  proper  to  award.  All  that  he  claim- 
ed without  qualification  or  reserve,  were  his  offi- 
cial dignities,  assured  to  him  under  the  royal  seal 
with  all  the  solemnity  of  a  treaty.  He  entreated, 
at  all  events,  that  these  matters  might  speedily 
be  decided,  so  that  he  might  be  released  from  a 
state  of  miserable  suspense,  and  enabled  to  retire 
to  some  quiet  corner,  in  search  of  that  tranquillity 
and  repose  necessary  to  his  fatigues  and  his  in- 
firmities. 

To  this  frank  appeal  to  his  justice  and  generos- 
ity, Ferdinand  replied  with  many  courteous  ex- 
pressions, and  with  those  general  evasive  prom- 
ises which  beguile  the  ear  of  the  court  applicant, 
but  convey  no  comfort  to  his  heart.  "  As  far  as 
actions  went,"  observes  Las  Casas,  "  the  king 
not  merely  showed  him  no  signs  of  favor,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  discountenanced  him  as  much  as 
possible  ;  yet  he  was  never  wanting  in  compliment- 
ary expressions." 

Many  months  were  passed  by  Columbus  in  una- 

*  Las  Casas,   Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  37,  MS. 


vailing  solicitation,  during  which  he  continued  to 
receive  outward  demonstrations  of  respect  from 
the  king,  and  due  attention  from  Cardinal  Xime- 
nes,  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  and  other  principal 
personages  ;  but  he  had  learned  to  appreciate  and 
distrust  the  hollow  civilities  of  a  court.  His  claims 
were  referred  to  a  tribunal,  called  "  The  council 
of  the  discharges  of  the  conscience  of  the  de- 
ceased queen,  and  of  the  king."  This  is  a  kind 
of  tribunal  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Junta  de  Descargos,  composed  of  persons  nomi- 
nated by  the  sovereign,  to  superintend  the  ac- 
complishment of  the  last  will  of  his  predecessor, 
and  the  discharge  of  his  debts.  Two  consulta- 
tions were  held  by  this  body,  but  nothing  was  de- 
termined. The  wishes  of  the  king  were  too  well 
known  to  be  thwarted.  "  It  was  believed,"  says 
Las  Casas,  "  that  it  the  king  could  have  done  so 
with  a  safe  conscience,  and  without  detriment  to 
his  fame,  he  would  have  respected  few  or  none  of 
the  privileges  which  he  and  the  queen  had  con- 
ceded to  the  admiral,  and  which  had  been  so 
justly  merited."* 

Columbus  still  flattered  himself  that,  his  claims 
being  of  such  importance,  and  touching  a  question 
of  sovereignty,  the  adjustment  of  them  might  be 
only  postponed  by  the  king  until  he  could  consult 
with  his  daughter  Juana,  who  had  succeeded  to 
her  mother  as  Queen  of  Castile,  and  who  was 
daily  expected  from  Flanders  with  her  husband, 
King  Philip.  He  endeavored,  therefore,  to  bear 
his  delays  with  patience  ;  but  he  had  no  longer 
the  physical  strength  and  glorious  anticipations 
which  once  sustained  him  through  his  long  appli- 
cation at  this  court.  Lite  itself  was  drawing  to 
a  close. 

He  was  once  more  confined  to  his  bed  by  a  tor- 
menting attack  of  the  gout,  aggravated  by  the 
sorrows  and  disappointments  which  preyed  upon 
his  heart.  From  this  couch  of  anguish  he  ad- 
dressed one  more  appeal  to  the  justice  of  the  king. 
He  no  longer  petitioned  for  himself  ;  it  was  for 
his  son  Diego.  Nor  did  he  dwell  upon  his  pecu- 
niary dues  ;  it  was  the  honorable  trophies  of  his 
services  which  he  wished  to  secure  and  perpetuate 
in  his  family.  He  entreated  that  his  son  Diego 
might  be  appointed,  in  his  place,  to  the  govern- 
ment of  which  he  had  been  so  wrongfully  de- 
prived. "This,"  he  said,  "is  a  matter  which 
concerns  my  honor  ;  as  to  all  the  rest,  do  as  your 
majesty  may  think  proper  ;  give  or  withhold,  as 
may  be  most  for  your  interest,  and  I  shall  be  con- 
tent. I  believe  the  anxiety  caused  by  the  delay  of 
this  affair  is  the  principal  cause  of  my  ill  health." 
A  petition  to  the  same  purpose  was  presented  at 
the  same  time  by  his  son  Diego,  offering  to  take 
with  him  such  persons  for  counsellors  as  the  king 
should  appoint,  and  to  be  guided  by  their  advice. 

These  petitions  were  treated  by  Ferdinand  with 
his  usual  professions  and  evasions.  "  The  more 
applications  were  made  to  him,"  observes  Las 
Casas,  "the  more  favorably^  did  he  reply;  but 
still  he  delayed,  hoping,  by  exhausting  their  pa- 
tience, to  induce  them  to  wave  their  privileges, 
and  accept  in  place  thereof  titles  and  estates  in 
Castile."  Columbus  rejected  all  propositions  of 
the  kind  with  indignation,  as  calculated  to  com- 
promise those  titles  which  were  the  trophies  of 
his  achievements.  He  saw,  however,  that  all 
further  hope  of  redress  from  Ferdinand  was  vain. 
From  the  bed  to  which  he  was  confined  he  ad- 
dressed a  letter  to  his  constant  friend  Diego  de 
Deza,  expressive  of  his  despair.  "  It  appears 

*  Las  Casas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  37. 


LIFE  AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


227 


that  his  majesty  does  not  think  fit  to  fulfil  tha 
which  he,  with  the  queen,  who  is  now  in  glory 
promised  me  by  word  and  seal.  For  me  to  con- 
tend for  the  contrary  would  be  to  contend  with 
the  wind.  I  have  done  all  that  I  could  do.  1 
leave  the  rest  to  God,  whom  I  have  ever  found 
propitious  to  me  in  my  necessities."* 

The  cold  and  calculating  Ferdinand  beheld  this 
illustrious  man  sinking  under  infirmity  of  body 
heightened  by  that  deferred  hope  which  "  maketh 
the  heart  sick."  A  little  more  delay,  a  little 
more  disappointment,  and  a  little  longer  infliction 
of  ingratitude,  and  this  loyal  and  generous  heart 
would  cease  to  beat  :  he  should  then  be  delivered 
from  the  just  claims  of  a  well-tried  servant,  who, 
in  ceasing  to  be  useful,  was  considered  by  him  to 
have  become  importunate. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DEATH    OF    COLUMBUS. 

IN  the  midst  of  illness  and  despondency,  when 
both  life  and  hope  were  expiring  in  the  bosom  of 
Columbus,  a  new  gleam  was  awakened  and 
blazed  up  for  the  moment  with  characteristic  fer- 
vor. He  heard  with  joy  of  the  landing  of  King 
Philip  and  Queen  Juana,  who  had  just  arrived 
from  Flanders  to  take  possession  of  their  throne 
of  Castile.  In  the  daughter  of  Isabella  he  trusted 
once  more  to  find  a  patroness  and  a  friend.  King 
Ferdinand  and  all  the  court  repaired  to  Laredo  to 
receive  the  youthful  sovereigns.  Columbus  would 
gladly  have  done  the  same,  but  he  was  confined 
to  his  bed  by  a  severe  return  of  his  malady  ; 
neither  in  his  painful  and  helpless  situation  could 
he  dispense  with  the  aid  and  ministry  of  his  son 
Diego.  His  brother,  the  Adelantaclo,  therefore, 
his  main  dependence  in  all  emergencies,  was 
sent  to  represent  him,  and  to  present  his  homage 
and  congratulations.  Columbus  wrote  by  him  to 
the  new  king  and  queen  expressing  his  grief  at  be- 
ing prevented  by  illness  from  coming  in  person  to 
manifest  his  devotion,  but  begging  to  be  consider- 
ed among  the  most  faithful  of  their  subjects.  He 
expressed  a  hope  that  he  should  receive  at  their 
hands  the  restitution  of  his  honors  and  estates, 
and  assured  them  that,  though  cruelly  tortured 
at  present  by  disease,  he  would  yet  be  able  to 
render  them  services,  the  like  of  which  had  never 
been  witnessed. 

Sucji  was  the  last  sally  of  his  sanguine  and 
unconquerable  spirit  ;  which,  disregarding  age 
and  infirmities,  and  all  past  sorrows  and  disap- 
pointments, spoke  from  his  dying  bed  with  all 
the  confidence  of  youthful  hope  ;  and  talked  of 
still  greater  enterprises,  as  if  he  had  a  long  and 
vigorous  life  before  him.  The  Adelantaclo  took 
leave  of  his  brother,  whom  he  was  never  to  be- 
hold again,  and  set  out  on  his  mission  to  the  new 
sovereigns.  He  experienced  the  most  gracious 
reception.  The  claims  of  the  admiral  were  treat- 
ed with  great  attention  by  the  young  king  and 
queen,  and  flattering  hopes  were  given  of  a  speedy 
and  prosperous  termination  to  his  suit. 

In  the  mean  time  the  cares  and  troubles  of  Co- 
lumbus were  drawing  to  a  close.  The  moment- 
ary fire  which  had  reanimated  him  was  soon 
quenched  by  accumulating  infirmities.  Immedi- 
ately after  the  departure  of  the  Adelantado,  his 
illness  increased  in  violence.  His  last  voyage 

*  Navarrete  Colec.,  torn.  i. 


had  shattered  beyond  repair  a  frame  already  worn 
and  wasted  by  a  life  of  hardship  ;  and  continual 
anxieties  robbed  him  of  that  sweet  repose  so  nec- 
essary to  recruit  the  weariness  and  debility  of 
age.  The  cold  ingratitude  of  his  sovereign  chill- 
ed his  heart.  The  continued  suspension  of  his 
honors,  and  the  enmity  and  defamation  experi- 
enced at  every  turn,  seemed  to  throw  a  shadow 
over  that  glory  which  had  been  the  great  object 
of  his  ambition.  This  shadow,  it  is  true,  could 
be  but  of  transient  duration  ;  but  it  is  difficult  for 
the  most  illustrious  man  to  look  beyond  the  pres- 
ent cloud  which  may  obscure  his  fame,  and  antici- 
pate its  permanent  lustre  in  the  admiration  of 
posterity. 

Being  admonished  by  failing  strength  and  in- 
creasing sufferings  that  his  end  was  approaching, 
he  prepared  to  leave  his  affairs  in  order  for  the 
benefit  of  his  successors. 

It  is  said  that  on  the  4th  of  May  he  wrote  an 
informal  testamentary  codicil  on  the  blank  page 
of  a  little  breviary,  given  him  by  Pope  Alexander 
VI.  In  this  he  bequeathed  that  book  to  the  Re- 
public of  Genoa,  which  he  also  appointed  success- 
or to  his  privileges  and  dignities,  on  the  extinc- 
tion of  his  male  line.  He  directed  likewise  the 
erection  of  an  hospital  in  that  city  with  the  prod- 
uce of  his  possessions  in  Italy.  The  authenticity 
of  this  document  is  questioned,  and  has  become  a 
joint  of  warm  contest  among  commentators.  It 
s  not,  however,  of  much  importance.  The  pa- 
3er  is  such  as  might  readily  have  been  written 
jy  a  person  like  Columbus  in  the  paroxysm  of 
disease,  when  he  imagined  his  end  suddenly  ap- 
)roaching,  and  shows  the  affection  with  which  his 
thoughts  were  bent  on  his  native  city.  It  is 
.ermecl  among  commentators  a  military  codicil, 
Because  testamentary  dispositions  of  this  kind  are 
executed  by  the  soldier  at  the  point  of  death, 
without  the  usual  formalities  required  by  the  civil 
aw.  About  two  weeks  afterward,  on  the  eve  of 
lis  death,  he  executed  a  final  and  regularly  au- 
henticated  codicil,  in  which  he  bequeathed  his 
dignities  and  estates  with  better  judgment. 

In  these  last  and  awful  moments,  when  the 
loul  has  but  a  brief  space  in  which  to  make  up 
ts  accounts  between  heaven  and  earth,  all  dis- 
imulation  is  at  an  end,  and  we  read  unequivocal 
evidences  of  character.  The  last  codicil  of  Co- 
umbus,  made  at  the  very  verge  of  the  grave,  is 
tamped  with  his  ruling  passion  and  his  benignant 
-irtues.  He  repeats  and  enforces  several  clauses 
if  his  original  testament,  constituting  his  son 
Diego  his  universal  heir.  The  entailed  inheritance, 
>r  mayorazgo,  in  case  he  died  without  male  issue, 
VSLS  to  go  to  his  brother  Don  Fernando,  and  from 
im,  in  like  case,  to  pass  to  his  uncle  Don  Bartholo- 
mew, descending  always  to  the  nearest  male  heir  ; 
n  failure  of  which  it  was  to  pass  to  the  female 
earest  in  lineage  to  the  admiral.  He  enjoined 
pon  whoever  should  inherit  his  estate  never  to 
lienate  or  diminish  it,  but  to  endeavor  by  all 
means  to  augment  its  prosperity  and  importance, 
ie  likewise  enjoined  upon  his  heirs  to  be  prompt 
ncl  devoted  at  all  times,  with  person  and  estate, 
o  serve  their  sovereign  and  promote  the  Christian 
aith.  He  ordered  that  Don  Diego  should  devote 
ne  tenth  of  the  revenues  which  might  arise  from 
is  estate,  when  it  came  to  be  productive,  to  the 
elief  of  indigent  relatives,  and  of  other  persons 
n  necessity  ;  that,  out  of  the  remainder  he 
liould  yield  certain  yearly  proportions  to  his 
rother  Don  Fernando,  and  his  uncles  Don  Bar- 
lolomew  and  Don  Diego  ;  and  that  the  part  al- 
otted  to  Don  Fernando  should  be  settled  upon 


228 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


him  and  his  male  heirs  in  an  entailed  and  una- 
lienable  inheritance.  Having  thus  provided  for 
the  maintenance  and  perpetuity  of  his  family  and 
dignities,  he  ordered  that  Don  Diego,  when  his 
estates  should  be  sufficiently  productive,  should 
erect  a  chapel  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  which 
God  had  given  to  him  so  marvellously,  at  the 
town  of  Conception,  in  the  Vega,  where  masses 
should  be  daily  performed  for  the  repose  of  the 
souls  of  himself,  his  father,  his  mother,  his  wife, 
and  of  all  who  died  in  the  faith.  Another  clause 
recommends  to  the  care  of  Don  Diego,  Beatrix 
Enriquez,  the  mother  of  his  natural  son  Fernan- 
do. His  connection  with  her  had  never  been 
sanctioned  by  matrimony,  and  either  this  circum- 
stance, or  some  neglect  of  her,  seems  to  have 
awakened  deep  compunction  in  his  dying  mo- 
ments. He  orders  Don  Diego  to  provide  for  her 
respectable  maintenance  ;  "  and  let  this  be 
done,"  he  adds,  "for  the  discharge  of  my  con- 
science, for  it  weighs  heavy  on  my  soul."*  Fi- 
nally he  noted  with  his  own  hand  several  minute 
sums,  to  be  paid  to  persons  at  different  and  dis- 
tant places,  without  their  being  told  whence  they 
received  them.  These  appear  to  have  been  trivial 
debts  of  conscience,  or  rewards  for  petty  services 
received  in  times  long  past.  Among  them  is  one 
of  half  a  mark  of  silver  to  a  poor  Jew,  who  lived 
at  the  gate  of  the  Jewry,  in  the  city  of  Lisbon. 
These  minute  provisions  evince  the  scrupulous 
attention  to  justice  in  all  his  dealings,  and  that 
love  of  punctuality  in  the  fulfilment  of  duties,  for 
which  he  was  remarked.  In  the  same  spirit  he 
gave  much  advice  to  his  son  Diego,  as  to  the  con- 
duct of  his  affairs,  enjoining  upon  him  to  take 
every  month  an  account  with  his  own  hand  of  the 
expenses  of  his  household,  and  to  sign  it  with  his 
name  ;  for  a  want  of  regularity  in  this,  he  ob- 
served, lost  both  property  and  servants,  and  turn- 
ed the  last  into  enemies.f  His  dying  bequests 
were  made  in  presence  of  a  few  faithful  followers 
and  servants,  and  among  them  we  find  the  name 
of  Bartholomeo  Fiesco,  who  had  accompanied 
Diego  Mendez  in  the  perilous  voyage  in  a  canoe 
from  Jamaica  to  Hispaniola. 

Having  thus  scrupulously  attended  to  all  the 
claims  of  affection,  loyalty,  and  justice  upon 
earth,  Columbus  turned  his  thoughts  to  heaven  ; 
and  having  received  the  holy  sacrament,  and  per- 
formed all  the  pious  offices  of  a  devout  Christian, 
he  expired  with  great  resignation,  on  the  day  of 
Ascension,  the  2Oth  of  May,  1506,  being  about 
seventy  years  of  age.J  His  last  words  were, 
"  In  inanus  tuas  Domine,  commendo  spiritum 
meum:"  Into  thy  hands,  O  Lord,  I  commend 
my  spirit.? 

His  body  was  deposited  in  the  convent  of  St. 
Francisco,  and  his  obsequies  were  celebrated 
with  funereal  pomp  at  Valladolid,  in  the  parochial 
church  of  Santa  Maria  de  la  Antigua.  His  re- 
mains were  transported  afterward,  in  1513,  to  the 

*  Diego,  the  son  of  the  admiral,  notes  in  his  own 
testament  this  bequest  of  his  father,  and  says,  that  he 
was  charged  by  him  to  pay  Beatrix  Enriquez  10,000 
maravedis  a  year,  which  for  some  time  he  had  faith- 
fully performed  ;  but  as  he  believes  that  for  three  or 
four  years  previous  to  her  death  he  had  neglected  to 
do  so,  he  orders  that  the  deficiency  shall  be  ascer- 
tained and  paid  to  her  heirs.  Memorial  ajustado  so- 
bre  la  propriedad  del  mayorazgo  quefondo  D.  Christ. 
Colon.  §  245. 

{Memorial  ajustado,  §  248. 
Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  121. 
§  LasCasas,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  cap.  38.     Hist,  del 
Almirante,  cap.  108. 


Carthusian  monastery  of  Las  Cuevas  of  Seville,  to 
the  chapel  of  St.  Ann  or  of  Santo  Christo,  in 
which  chapel  were  likewise  deposited  those  of  his 
son  Don  Diego,  who  died  in  the  village  of  Mont- 
alban,  on  the  23d  of  February,  1526.  In  the 
year  1536  the  bodies  of  Columbus  and  his  son 
Diego  were  removed  to  Hispaniola,  and  interred 
in  the  principal  chapel  of  the  cathedral  of  the  city 
of  San  Domingo  ;  but  even  here  they  did  not  rest 
in  quiet,  having  since  been  again  disinterred  and 
conveyed  to  the  Havana,  in  the  island  of  Cuba. 

We  are  told  that  Ferdinand,  after  the  death  of 
Columbus,  showed  a  sense  of  his  merits  by  order- 
ing a  monument  to  be  erected  to  his  memory,  on 
which  was  inscribed  the  motto  already  cited, 
which  had  formerly  been  granted  to  him  by  the  sov- 
ereigns :  A  CASTILLA  Y  A  LEON  NUEVO  MUNDO 
DIO  COLON  (To  Castile  and  Leon  Columbus  gave 
a  new  world).  However  great  an  honor  a  monu- 
ment may  be  for  a  subject  to  receive,  it  is  cer- 
tainly but  a  cheap  reward  for  a  sovereign  to  be- 
stow. As  to  the  motto  inscribed  upon  it,  it  re- 
mains engraved  in  the  memory  of  mankind,  more 
indelibly  than  in  brass  or  marble  ;  a  record  of  the 
great  debt  of  gratitude  due  to  the  discoverer, 
which  the  monarch  had  so  faithlessly  neglected  to 
discharge. 

Attempts  have  been  made  in  recent  days,  by 
loyal  Spanish  writers,  to  vindicate  the  conduct  of 
Ferdinand  toward  Columbus.  They  were  doubt- 
less well  intended,  but  they  have  been  futile,  nor 
is  their  failure  to  be  regretted.  To  screen  such 
injustice  in  so  eminent  a  character  from  the  repro- 
bation of  mankind  is  to  deprive  history  of  one 
of  its  most  important  uses.  Let  the  ingratitude  of 
Ferdinand  stand  recorded  in  its  full  extent,  and 
endure  throughout  all  time.  The  dark  shadow 
which  it  casts  upon  his  brilliant  renown  will  be 
a  lesson  to  all  rulers,  teaching  them  what  is  im- 
portant to  their  own  fame  in  their  treatment  of 
illustrious  men. 


CHAPTER  V. 

OBSERVATIONS  ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  COLUMBUS. 

IN  narrating  the  story  of  Columbus,  it  has  been 
the  endeavor  of  the  author  to  place  him  in  a  cksar 
and  familiar  point  of  view  ;  for  this  purpose  he 
has  rejected  no  circumstance,  however  trivial, 
which  appeared  to  evolve  some  point 'of  char- 
acter ;  and  he  has  sought  all  kinds  of  collateral 
facts  which  might  throw  light  upon  his  views  and 
motives.  With  this  view  also  he  has  detailed 
many  tacts  hitherto  passed  over  in  silence,  or 
vaguely  noticed  by  historians,  probably  because 
they  might  be  deemed  instances  of  error  or  mis- 
conduct on  the  part  of  Columbus  ;  but  he  who 
paints  a  great  man  merely  in  great  and  heroic 
traits,  though  he  may  produce  a  fine  picture,  will 
never  present  a  faithful  portrait.  Great  men  are 
compounds  of  great  and  little  qualities.  Indeed, 
much  of  their  greatness  arises  from  their  mastery 
over  the  imperfections  of  their  nature,  and  their 
noblest  actions  are  sometimes  struck  forth  by  the 
collision  of  their  merits  and  their  defects. 

In  Columbus  were  singularly  combined  the 
practical  and  the  poetical.  His  mind  had  grasp- 
ed all  kinds  of  knowledge,  whether  procured  by 
study  or  observation,  which  bore  upon  his  the- 
ories ;  impatient  of  the  scanty  aliment  of  the  day, 
"his  impetuous  ardor,"  as  has  well  been  ob- 
served, "  threw  him  into  the  study  of  the  fathers 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


229 


of  the  church  ;  the  Arabian  Jews,  and  the  an- 
cient geographers  ;"  while  his  daring  but  irregu- 
lar genius,  bursting  from  the  limits  of  imperfect 
science,  bore  him  to  conclusions  far  beyond  the 
intellectual  vision  of  his  contemporaries.  If  some 
of  his  conclusions  were  erroneous,  they  were  at 
least  ingenious  and  splendid  ;  and  their  error  re- 
sulted from  the  clouds  which  still  hung  over  his 
peculiar  path  of  enterprise.  His  own  discov- 
eries enlightened  the  ignorance  of  the  age  ;  guid- 
ed conjecture  to  certainty,  and  dispelled  that  very 
darkness  with  which  he  had  been  obliged  to  strug- 
gle. 

In  the  progress  of  his  discoveries  he  has  been 
remarked  for  the  extreme  sagacity  and  the  admir- 
able justness  with  which  he  seized  upon  the  phe- 
nomena of  the  exterior  world.  The  variations, 
for  instance,  of  terrestrial  magnetism,  the  direc- 
tion of  currents,  the  groupings  of  marine  plants, 
fixing  one  of  the  grand  climacteric  divisions  of 
the  ocean,  the  temperatures  changing  not  solely 
with  the  distance  to  the  equator,  but  also  with  the 
difference  of  meridians  :  these  and  similar  phe- 
nomena, as  they  broke  upon  him  were  discerned 
with  wonderful  quickness  of  perception,  and  made 
to  contribute  important  principles  to  the  stock  of 
general  knowledge.  This  lucidity  of  spirit,  this 
quick  convertibility  of  facts  to  principles,  distin- 
guish him  from  the  dawn  to  the  close  of  his  sub- 
lime enterprise,  insomuch  that,  with  all  the  sally- 
ing ardor  of  his  imagination,  his  ultimate  success 
has  been  admirably  characterized  as  a  "  con- 
quest of  reflection."* 

It  has  been  said  that  mercenary  views  mingled 
with  the  ambition  of  Columbus,  and  that  his  stip- 
ulations with  the  Spanish  court  were  selfish  and 
avaricious.  The  charge  is  inconsiderate  and  un- 
just. He  aimed  at  dignity  and  wealth  in  the 
same  lofty  spirit  in  which  he  sought  renown  ; 
they  were  to  be  part  and  parcel  of  his  achieve- 
ment, and  palpable  evidence  of  its  success  ;  they 
were  to  arise  from  the  territories  he  should  dis- 
cover, and  be  commensurate  in  importance.  No 
condition  could  be  more  just.  He  asked  nothing 
of  the  sovereigns  but  a  command  of  the  countries 
he  hoped  to  give  them,  and  a  share  of  the  profits 
to  support  the  dignity  of  his  command.  If  there 
should  be  no  country  discovered,  his  stipulated 
viceroyalty  would  be  of  no  avail  ;  and  if  no  rev- 
enues should  be  produced,  his  labor  and  peril 
would  produce  no  gain.  If  his  command  and 
revenues  ultimately  proved  magnificent,  it  was 
from  the  magnificence  of  the  regions  he  had  at- 
tached to  the  Castilian  crown.  What  monarch 
would  not  rejoice  to  gain  empire  on  such  condi- 
tions ?  But  he  did  not  risk  merely  a  loss  of  la- 
bor, and  a  disappointment  of  ambition,  in  the  en- 
terprise ; — on  his  motives  being  questioned,  he 
voluntarily  undertook,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
his  coadjutors,  actually  defrayed  one  eighth  of 
the  whole  charge  of  the  first  expedition. 

It  was,  in  fact,  this  rare  union  already  noticed, 
of  the  practical  man  of  business  with  the  poetical 
projector,  which  enabled  him  to  carry  his  grand 
enterprises  into  effect  through  so  many  difficul- 
ties ;  but  the  pecuniary  calculations  and  cares, 
which  gave  feasibility  to  his  schemes,  were  never 
suffered  to  chill  the  glowing  aspirations  of  his 
soul.  The  gains  that  promised  to  arise  from  his 
discoveries  he  intended  to  appropriate  in  the 
same  princely  and  pious  spirit  in  which  they  were 
demanded.  He  contemplated  works  and  achieve- 
ments of  benevolence  and  religion  ;  vast  tcontri- 


*  D.  Humboldt.     Examen  Critique. 


butions  for  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  his  native 
city  ;  the  foundations  of  churches,  where  masses 
should  be  said  for  the  souls  of  the  departed  ;  and 
armies  for  the  recovery  of  the  holy  sepulchre  in 
Palestine.  Thus  his  ambition  was  truly  noble 
and  lofty  ;  instinct  with  high  thought  and  prone 
to  generous  deed. 

In  the  discharge  of  his  office  he  maintained  the 
state  and  ceremonial  of  a  viceroy,  and  was  tena- 
cious of  his  rank  and  privileges  ;  not  from  a  mere 
vulgar  love  of  titles,  but  because  he  prized  them 
as  testimonials  and  trophies  of  his  achievements  : 
these  he  jealously  cherished  as  his  great  rewards. 
In  his  repeated  applications  to  the  king,  he  insist- 
ed merely  on  the  restitution  of  his  dignities.  As 
to  his  pecuniary  dues  and  all  questions  relative  to 
mere  revenue,  he  offered  to  leave  them  to  arbi- 
tration or  even  to  the  absolute  disposition  of  the 
monarch  ;  but  not  so  his  official  dignities  :  "these 
things,"  said  he  nobly,  "affect  my  honor."  In 
his  testament,  he  enjoined  on  his  son  Diego,  and 
whoever  after  him  should  inherit  his  estates, 
whatever  dignities  and  titles  might  afterward  be 
granted  by  the  king,  always  to  sign  himself  sim- 
ply "  the  admiral,"  by  way  of  perpetuating  in  the 
family  its  real  source  of  greatness. 

His  conduct  was  characterized  by  the  grandeur 
of  his  views  and  the  magnanimity  of  his  spirit. 
Instead  of  scouring  the  newly-found  countries, 
like  a  grasping  adventurer  eager  only  for  imme- 
diate gain,  as  was  too  generally  the  case  with 
contemporary  discoverers,  he  sought  to  ascertain 
their  soil  and  productions,  their  rivers  and  har- 
bors :  he  was  desirous  of  colonizing  and  cultiva- 
ting them  ;  of  conciliating  and  civilizing  the  na- 
tives ;  of  building  cities  ;  introducing  the  useful 
arts  ;  subjecting  everything  to  the  control  of  law, 
order,  and  religion  ;  and  thus  of  founding  regu- 
lar and  prosperous  empires.  In  this  glorious 
plan  he  was  constantly  defeated  by  the  dissolute 
rabble  which  it  was  his  misfortune  to  command  ; 
with  whom  all  law  was  tyranny,  and  all  order  re- 
straint. They  interrupted  all  useful  works  by 
their  seditions  ;  provoked  the  peaceful  Indians  to 
hostility  ;  and  after  they  had  thus  drawn  down 
misery  and  warfare  upon  their  own  heads,  and 
overwhelmed  Columbus  with  the  ruins  of  the  edi- 
fice he  was  building,  they  -charged  him  with  be- 
ing the  cause  of  the  confusion. 

Well  would  it  have  been  for  Spain  had  those 
who  followed  in  the  track  of  Columbus  possessed 
his  sound  policy  and  liberal  views.  The  New 
World,  in  such  cases,  would  have  been  settled  by 
pacific  colonists,  and  civilized  by  enlightened  leg- 
islators ;  instead  of  being  overrun  by  desperate 
adventurers,  and  desolated  by  avaricious  con- 
querors. 

Columbus  was  a  man  of  quick  sensibility,  lia- 
ble to  great  excitement,  to  sudden  and  strong  im- 
pressions, and  powerful  impulses.  He  was  nat- 
urally irritable  and  impetuous,  and  keenly  sensi- 
ble to  injury  and  injustice  ;  yet  the  quickness  of 
his  temper  was  counteracted  by  the  benevolence 
and  generosity  of  his  heart.  The  magnanimity 
of  his  nature  shone  forth  through  all  the  troubles 
of  his  stormy  career.  Though  continually  out- 
raged in  his  dignity,  and  braved  in  the  exercise 
of  his  command  ;  though  foiled  in  his  plans,  and 
endangered  in  his  person  by  the  seditions  of  tur- 
bulent and  worthless  men,  and  that  too  at  times 
when  suffering  under  anxiety  of  mind  and  anguish 
of  body  sufficient  to  exasperate  the  most  patient, 
yet  he  restrained  his  valiant  and  indignant  spirit, 
by  the  strong  powers  o*f  his  mind,  and  brought 
himself  to  forbear,  and  reason,  and  even  to  sup- 


230 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


plicate  ;  nor  should  we  fail  to  notice  how  free  he 
was  from  all  feeling  of  revenge,  how  ready  to  for- 
give and  forget,  on  the  least  signs  of  repentance 
and  atonement.  He  has  been  extolled  for  his 
skill  in  controlling  others  ;  but  far  greater  praise 
.  is  due  to  him  for  his  firmness  in  governing  him- 
self. 

His  natural  benignity  made  him  accessible  to 
all  kinds  of  pleasurable  sensations  from  external 
objects.  In  his  letters  and  journals,  instead  of 
detailing  circumstances  with  the  technical  preci- 
sion of  a  mere  navigator,  he  notices  the  beauties  of 
nature  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  poet  or  a  painter. 
As  he  coasts  the  shores  of  the  New  World,  the 
reader  participates  in  the  enjoyment  with  which 
he  describes,  in  his  imperfect  but  picturesque 
Spanish,  the  varied  objects  around  him  ;  the 
blandness  of  the  temperature,  the  purity  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  fragrance  of  the  air,  "  full  of 
dew  and  sweetness,"  the  verdure  of  the  forests, 
the  magnificence  of  the  trees,  the  grandeur  of  the 
mountains,  and  the  limpidity  and  freshness  of  the 
running  streams.  New  delight  springs  up  for  him 
in  every  scene.  He  extols  each  new  discovery  as 
more  beautiful  than  the  last,  and  each  as  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world  ;  until,  with  his  simple 
earnestness,  he  tells  the  sovereigns  that,  having 
spoken  so  highly  of  the  preceding  islands,  he  fears 
that  they  will  not  credit  him,  when  he  declares 
that  the  one  he  is  actually  describing  surpasses 
them  all  in  excellence. 

In  the  same  ardent  and  unstudied  way  he  ex- 
presses his  emotions  on  various  occasions,  readily 
affected  by  impulses  of  joy  or  grief,  of  pleasure 
or  indignation.  When  surrounded  and  over- 
whelmed by  the  ingratitude  and  violence  of  worth- 
less men,  he  often,  in  the  retirement  of  his  cabin, 
gave  way  to  bursts  of  sorrow,  and  relieved  his 
overladen  heart  by  sighs  and  groans.  When  he 
returned  in  chains  to  Spain,  and  came  into  the 
presence  of  Isabella,  instead  of  continuing  the 
lofty  pride  with  which  he  had  hitherto  sustained 
his  injuries,  he  was  touched  with  grief  and  ten- 
derness at  her  sympathy,  and  burst  forth  into  sobs 
and  tears. 

He  was  devoutly  pious  :  religion  mingled  with 
the  whole  course  of  his  thoughts  and  actions,  and 
shone  forth  in  his  most  private  and  unstudied 
writings.  Whenever  he  made  any  great  discov- 
ery, he  celebrated  it  by  solemn  thanks  to  God. 
The  voice  of  prayer  and  melody  of  praise  rose 
from  his  ships  when  they  first  beheld  the  New 
World,  and  his  first  action  on  landing  was  to 
prostrate  himself  upon  the  earth  and  return 
thanksgivings.  Every  evening  the  Salve  Re- 
gina  and  other  vesper  hymns  were  chanted  by 
nis  crew,  and  masses  were  performed  in  the  beau- 
tiful groves  bordering  the  wild  shores  of  this 
heathen  land.  All  his  great  enterprises  were  un- 
dertaken in  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  and  he 
partook  of  the  communion  previous  to  embarka- 
tion. He  was  a  firm  believer  in  the  efficacy  of 
vows  and  penances  and  pilgrimages,  and  resorted 
to  them  in  times  of  difficulty  and  danger.  The 
religion  thus  deeply  seated  in  his  soul  diffused  a 
sober  dignity  and  benign  composure  over  his 
whole  demeanor.  His  language  was  pure  and 
guarded,  and  free  from  all  imprecations,  oaths, 
and  other  irreverent  expressions. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  however,  that  his  piety 
was  mingled  with  superstition,  and  darkened  by 
the  bigotry  of  the  age.  He  evidently  concurred 
in  the  opinion,  that  all  nations  which  did  not  ac- 
knowledge the  Christian  faith  were  destitute  of 
natural  rights  ;  that  the  sternest  measures  might 


be  used  for  their  conversion,  and  the  severest 
punishments  inflicted  upon  their  obstinacy  in  un- 
belief. In  this  spirit  of  bigotry  he  considered 
himself  justified  in  making  captives  of  the  Indians, 
and  transporting  them  to  Spain  to  have  them 
taught  the  doctrines  of  Christianity,  and  in  sell- 
ing them  for  slaves  if  they  pretended  to  resist  his 
invasions.  In  so  doing  he  sinned  against  the 
natural  goodness  of  his  character,  and  against  the 
feelings  which  he  had  originally  entertained  and 
expressed  toward  this  gentle  and  hospitable  peo- 
ple ;  but  he  was  goaded  on  by  the  mercenary  impa- 
tience of  the  crown,  and  by  the  sneers  of  his  ene- 
mies at  the  unprofitable  result  of  his  enterprises. 
It  is  but  justice  to  his  character  to  observe,  that 
the  enslavement  of  the  Indians  thus  taken  in  bat- 
tle was  at  first  openly  countenanced  by  the  crown, 
and  that,  when  the  question  of  right  came  to  be 
discussed  at  the  entreaty  of  the  queen,  several  of 
the  most  distinguished  jurists  and  theologians  ad- 
vocated the  practice  ;  so  that  the  question  was 
finally  settled  in  favor  of  the  Indians  solely  by  the 
humanity  of  Isabella.  As  the  venerable  Bishop 
Las  Casas  observes,  where  the  most  learned  men 
have  doubted,  it  is  not  surprising  that  an  unlearn- 
ed mariner  should  err. 

These  remarks,  in  palliation  of  the  conduct  of 
Columbus,  are  required  by  candor.  It  is  proper 
to  show  him  in  connection  with  the  age  in  which 
he  lived,  lest  the  errors  of  the  times  should  be 
considered  as  his  individual  faults.  It  is  not  the 
intention  of  the  author,  however,  to  justify  Colum- 
bus on  a  point  where  it  is  inexcusable  to  err.  Let 
it  remain  a  blot  on  his  illustrious  name,  and  let 
others  derive  a  lesson  from  it. 

We  have  already  hinted  at  a  peculiar  trait  in 
his  rich  and  varied  character  ;  that  ardent  and 
enthusiastic  imagination  which  threw  a  magnifi- 
cence over  his  whole  course  of  thought.  Herrera 
intimates  that  he  had  a  talent  for  poetry,  and 
some  slight  traces  of  it  are  on  record'in  the  book 
ot  prophecies  which  he  presented  to  the  Catholic 
sovereigns.  But  his  poetical  temperament  is  dis- 
cernible throughout  all  his  writings  and  in  all  his 
actions.  It  spread  a  golden  and  glorious  world 
around  him,  and  tinged  everything  with  its  own 
gorgeous  colors.  It  betrayed  him  into  visionary 
speculations,  which  subjected  him  to  the  sneers 
and  cavillings  of  men  of  cooler  and  safer,  but 
more  grovelling  minds.  Such  were  the  conjec- 
tures formed  on  the  coast  of  Paria  about  the  form 
of  the  earth,  and  the  situation  of  the  terrestrial 
paradise  ;  about  the  mines  of  Ophir  in  Hispani- 
ola,  and  the  Aurea  Chersonesus  in  Veragua  ;  and 
such  was  the  heroic  scheme  of  a  crusade  for  the 
recovery'  of  the  holy  sepulchre.  It  mingled  with 
his  religion,  and  filled  his  mind  with  solemn  and 
visionary  meditations  on  mystic  passages  of  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  shadowy  portents  of  the 
prophecies.  It  exalted  his  office  in  his  eyes,  and 
made  him  conceive  himself  an  agent  sent  forth 
upon  a  sublime  and  awful  mission,  subject  to  im- 
pulses and  supernatural  intimations  from  the  De- 
ity ;  such  as  the  voice  which  he  imagined  spoke 
to  him  in  comfort  amidst  the  troubles  of  Hispani- 
ola  and  in  the  silence  of  the  night  on  the  disas- 
trous coast  of  Veragua. 

He  was  decidedly  a  visionary,  but  a  visionary 
of  an  uncommon  and  successful  kind.  The  man- 
ner in  which  his  ardent,  imaginative,  and  mercu- 
rial nature  was  controlled  by  a  powerful  judg- 
ment, and  directed  by  an  acute  sagacity,  is  the 
most  extraordinary  feature  in  his  character.  Thus 
governed,  his  imagination,  instead  ot  exhausting 
itself  in  idle  flights,  lent  aid  to  his  judgment,  and 


LIFE   AND   VOYAGES   OF   COLUMBUS. 


231 


enabled  him  to  form  conclusions  at  which  common 
minds  could  never  have  arrived,  nay,  which  they 
could  not  perceive  when  pointed  out. 

To  his  intellectual  vision  it  was  given  to  read 
the  signs  of  the  times,  and  to  trace,  in  the  con- 
jectures and  reveries  of  past  ages,  the  indications 
of  an  unknown  world  ;  as  soothsayers  were  said 
to  read  predictions  in  the  stars,  and  to  foretell 
events  from  the  visions  of  the  night.  "  His  soul," 
observes  a  Spanish  writer,  "  was  superior  to  the 
age  in  which  he  lived.  For  him  was  reserved  the 
great  enterprise  of  traversing  that  sea  which  had 
given  rise  to  so  many  fables,  and  of  deciphering 
the  mystery  of  his  time."* 

With  all  the  visionary  fervor  of  his  imagination, 
its  fondest  dreams  fell  short  of  the  reality.  He 
died  in  ignorance  of  the  real  grandeur  of  his  dis- 
covery. Until  his  last  breath  he  entertained  the 
idea  that  he  had  merely  opened  a  new  way  to  the 

*  Cladera.    I«vestigaciones  historias,  p.  43. 


old  resorts  of  opulent  commerce,  and  had  discov- 
ered some  of  the  wild  regions  of  the  East.  He 
supposed  Hispaniola  to  be  the  ancient  Ophir  which 
had  been  visited  by  the  ships  of  Solomon,  and 
that  Cuba  and  Terra  Firma  were  but  remote 
parts  of  Asia.  What  visions  of  glory  would  have 
broken  upon  his  mind  could  he  have  known  that 
he  had  indeed  discovered  a  new  continent,  equal 
to  the  whole  of  the  Old  World  in  magnitude,  and 
separated  by  two  vast  oceans  from  all  the  earth 
hitherto  known  by  civilized  man  !  And  how 
would  his  magnanimous  spirit  have  been  con- 
soled, amidst  the  afflictions  of  age  and  the  cares 
of  penury,  the  neglect  of  a  fickle  public  and  the 
injustice  of  an  ungrateful  king,  could  he  have  an- 
ticipated the  splendid  empires  which  were  to 
spread  over  the  beautiful  world  he  had  discov- 
ered ;  and  the  nations,  and  tongues,  and  lan- 
guages which  were  to  fill  its  lands  with  his  re- 
nown, and  revere  and  bless  his  name  to  the  latest 
posterity  ! 


APPENDIX^ 


CONTAINING 


ILLUSTRATIONS  AND  DOCUMENTS. 


APPENDIX. 


No.  I. 

TRANSPORTATION     OF     THE     REMAINS     OF      COLUMBUS 
FROM   ST.    DOMINGO   TO   THE   HAVANA. 

AT  the  termination  of  a  war  between  France  and 
Spain,  in  1795,  all  the  Spanish  possessions  in  the 
island  of  Hispaniola  were  ceded  to  France,  by  the 
gth  article  of  the  treaty  of  peace.  To  assist  in  the 
accomplishment  of  this  cession,  a  Spanish  squadron 
was  dispatched  to  the  island  at  the  appointed  time, 
commanded  by  Don  Gabriel  de  Aristizabal,  lieuten- 
ant-general of  the  royal  armada.  On  the  nth  of  De- 
cember, 1795,  that  commander  wrote  to  the  field-mar- 
shal and  governor,  Don  Joaquin  Garcia,  resident  at 
St.  Domingo,  that,  being  informed  that  the  remains 
of  the  celebrated  admiral  Don  Christopher  Columbus 
lay  in  the  cathedral  of  that  city,  he  felt  it  incumbent 
on  him  as  a  Spaniard,  and  as  commander-in-chief  of 
his  majesty's  squadron  of  operations,  to  solicit  the 
translation  of  the  ashes  of  that  hero  to  the  island  of 
Cuba,  which  had  likewise  been  discovered  by  him, 
and  where  he  had  first  planted  the  standard  of  the 
cross.  He  expressed  a  desire  that  this  should  be 
done  officially,  and  with  great  care  and  formality, 
that  it  might  not  remain  in  the  power  of  any  one,  by 
a  careless  transportation  of  these  honored  remains,  to 
lose  a  relic  connected  with  an  event  which  formed 
the  most  glorious  epoch  of  Spanish  history,  and  that 
it  might  be  manifested  to  all  nations  that  Spaniards, 
notwithstanding  the  lapse  of  ages,  never  ceased  to 
pay  all  honors  to  the  remains  of  that  "  worthy  and 
adventurous  general  of  the  seas  ;"  nor  abandoned 
them,  when  the  various  public  bodies,  representing 
the  Spanish  dominion,  emigrated  from  the  island.  As 
he  had  not  time,  without  great  inconvenience,  to  con- 
sult the  sovereign  on  this  subject,  he  had  recourse  to 
the  governor,  as  royal  vice-patron  of  the  island, 
hoping  that  his  solicitation  might  be  granted,  and  the 
remains  of  the  admiral  exhumed  and  conveyed  to  the 
island  of  Cuba,  in  the  ship  San  Lorenzo. 

The  generous  wishes  of  this  high-minded  Spaniard 
met  with  warm  concurrence  on  the  part  of  the  gov- 
ernor. He  informed  him,  in  reply,  that  the  Duke  of 
Veraguas,  lineal  successor  of  Columbus,  had  mani- 
fested the  same  solicitude,  and  had  sent  directions 
that  the  necessary  measures  should  be  taken  at  his 
expense  ;  and  had  at  the  same  time  expressed  a  wish 
that  the  bones  of  the  Adelantado,  Don  Bartholomew 
Columbus,  should  likewise  be  exhumed  ;  transmitting 
inscriptions  to  be  put  upon  the  sepulchres  of  both. 
He  added,  that  although  the  king  had  given  no  orders 
on  the  subject,  yet  the  proposition  being  so  accord- 
ant with  the  grateful  feelings  of  the  Spanish  nation,  and 
meeting  with  the  concurrence  of  all  the  authorities  of 
the  island,  he  was  ready  on  his  part  to  carry  it  into 
execution. 

The  commandant-general  Aristizabal  then  made  a 
similar  communication  to  the  archbishop  of  Cuba, 
Don  Fernando  Portillo  y  Torres,  whose  metropolis 
was  then  the  city  of  St.  Domingo,  hoping  to  receive 
his  countenance  and  aid  in  this  pious  undertaking. 

The  reply  of  the  archbishop  was  couched  in  terms 
of  high  courtesy  toward  the  gallant  commander,  and 
deep  reverence  for  the  memory  of  Columbus,  and  ex- 
pressed a  zeal  in  rendering  this  tribute  of  gratitude 
and  respect  to  the  remains  of  one  who  had  done  so 
much  for  the  glory  of  the  nation. 

The  persons  empowered  to  act  for  the  Duke  of  Ve- 
raguas, the  venerable  dean  and  chapter  of  the  cathe- 


dral, and  all  the  other  persons  and  authorities  to 
whom  Don  Gabriel  de  Aristizabal  made  similar  com- 
munications, manifested  the  same  eagerness  to  assist 
in  the  performance  of  this  solemn  and  affecting  rite. 

The  worthy  commander  Aristizabal,  having  taken 
all  these  preparatory  steps  with  great  form  and  punc- 
tilio, so  as  that  the  ceremony  should  be  performed  in 
a  public  and  striking  manner,  suitable  to  the  fame  of 
Columbus,  the  whole  was  carried  into  effect  with  be- 
coming pomp  and  solemnity. 

On  the  aoth  of  December,  1795,  the  most  distin- 
guished persons  of  the  place,  the  dignitaries  of  the 
church,  and  civil  and  military  officers,  assembled  in 
the  metropolitan  cathedral.  In  the  presence  of  this 
august  assemblage,  a  small  vault  was  opened  above 
the  chancel,  in  the  principal  wall  on  the  right  side  of 
the  high  altar.  Within  were  found  the  fragments  of 
a  leaden  coffin,  a  number  of  bones,  and  a  quantity  of 
mould,  evidently  the  remains  of  a  human  body. 
These  were  carefully  collected  and  put  into  a  case  of 
gilded  lead,  about  half  an  ell  in  length  and  breadth, 
and  a  third  in  height,  secured  by  an  iron  lock,  the 
key  of  which  was  delivered  to  the  archbishop.  The 
case  was  inclosed  in  a  coffin  covered  with  black  vel- 
vet, and  ornamented  with  lace  and  fringe  of  gold. 
The  whole  was  then  placed  in  a  temporary  tomb  or 
mausoleum. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  another  grand 
convocation  at  the  cathedral,  when  the  vigils  and 
masses  for  the  dead  were  solemnly  chanted  by  the 
archbishop,  accompanied  by  the  commandant-general 
of  the  armada,  the  Dominican  and  Franciscan  friars, 
and  the  friars  of  the  Order  of  Mercy,  together  with 
the  rest  of  the  distinguished  assemblage.  After  this 
a  funeral  sermon  was  preached  by  the  archbishop. 

On  the  same  day,  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon, 
the  coffin  was  transported  to  the  ship  with  the  utmost 
state  and  ceremony,  with  a  civil,  religious,  and  mili- 
tary procession,  banners  wrapped  in  mourning, 
chants  and  responses  and  discharges  of  artillery. 
The  most  distinguished  persons  of  the  several  orders 
took  turn  to  support  the  coffin.  The  key  was  taken 
with  great  formality  from  the  hands  of  the  archbishop 
by  the  governor,  and  given  into  the  hands  of  the  com- 
mander of  the  armada,  to  be  delivered  by  him  to  the 
governor  of  the  Havana,  to  be  held  in  deposit  until 
the  pleasure  of  the  king  should  be  known.  The  coffin 
was  received  on  board  of  a  brigantine  called  the  Dis- 
coverer, which,  with  all  the  other  shipping,  displayed 
mourning  signals,  and  saluted  the  remains  with  the 
honors  paid  to  an  admiral. 

From  the  port  of  St.  Domingo  the  coffin  was  con- 
veyed to  the  bay  of  Ocoa  and  there  transferred  to  the 
ship  San  Lorenzo.  It  was  accompanied  by  a  portrait 
of  Columbus,  sent  from  Spain  by  the  Duke  of  Vera- 
guas, to  be  suspended  close  by  the  place  where  the 
remains  of  his  illustrious  ancestor  should  be  deposited. 
The  ship  immediately  made  sail,  and  arrived  at  Ha- 
vana, in  Cuba,  on  the  isth  of  January,  1796.  Here 
the  same  deep  feeling  of  reverence  to  the  memory  of 
the  discoverer  was  evinced.  The  principal  authori- 
ties repaired  on  board  of  the  ship,  accompanied  by 
the  superior  naval  and  military  officers.  Every- 
thing was  conducted  with  the  same  circumstantial 
and  solemn  ceremonial.  The  remains  were  re- 
moved with  great  reverence,  and  placed  in  a  felucca, 
in  which  they  were  conveyed  to  land  in  the  midst 
of  a  procession  of  three  columns  of  feluccas  and  boats 
in  the  royal  service,  all  properly  decorated,  contain- 


APPENDIX. 


ing  distinguished  military  and  ministerial  officers. 
Two  feluccas  followed,  in  one  of  which  was  a  marine 
guard  of  honor,  with  mourning  banners  and  muffled 
drums  ;  and  in  the  other  were  the  commandant-gen- 
eral, the  principal  minister  of  marine,  and  the  mili- 
tary staff.  In  passing  the  vessels  of  war  in  the  har- 
bor, they  all  paid  the  honors  due  to  an  admiral  and 
captain-general  of  the  navy.  On  arriving  at  the 
mole  the  remains  were  met  by  the  governor  of  the 
island,  accompanied  by  the  generals  and  the  military 
staff.  The  coffin  was  then  conveyed,  between  files  of 
soldiery  which  lined  the  streets,  to  the  obelisk,  in  the 
place  of  arms,  where  it  was  received  in  a  hearse  pre- 
pared for  the  purpose.  Here  the  remains  were  for- 
rnally  delivered  to  the  governor  and  captain-general 
of  the  island,  the  key  given  up  to  him,  the  coffin 
opened  and  examined,  and  the  safe  transportation  of 
its  contents  authenticated.  This  ceremony  being  con- 
cluded, it  was  conveyed  in  grand  procession  and 
with  the  utmost  pomp  to  the  cathedral.  Masses  and 
the  solemn  ceremonies  of  the  dead  were  performed 
by  the  bishop,  and  the  mortal  remains  of  Columbus 
deposited  with  great  reverence  in  the  wall  on  the 
right  side  of  the  grand  altar.  "  All  these  honors  and 
ceremonies,"  says  the  document,  from  whence  this 
notice  is  digested,*  "  were  attended  by  the  ecclesias- 
tical and  secular  dignitaries,  the  public  bodies  and  all 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Havana,  in  proof  of  the 
high  estimation  and  respectful  remembrance  in  which 
they  held  the  hero  who  had  discovered  the  New 
World,  and  had  been  the  first  to  plant  the  standard  of 
the  cross  on  that  island." 

This  is  the  last  occasion  that  the  Spanish  nation 
has  had  to  testify  its  feelings  toward  the  memory  of 
Columbus,  and  it  is  with  deep  satisfaction  that  the 
author  of  this  woric  has  been  able  to  cite  at  large  a 
ceremonial  so  solemn,  affecting,  and  noble  in  its  de- 
tails, arid  so  honorable  to  the  national  character. 

'  When  we  read  of  the  remains  of  Columbus,  thus  con- 
veyed from  the  port  of  St.  Domingo,  after  an  interval  of 
nearly  three  hundred  years,  as  sacred  national  relics, 
with  civic  and  military  pomp,  and  high  religious  cere- 
monial ;  the  most  dignified  and  illustrious  men  striv- 
ing who  most  should  pay  them  reverence,  we  cannot 
but  reflect  that  it  was  from  this  very  port  he  was  car- 
ied  off  loaded  with  ignominious  chains,  blasted  ap- 
parently in  fame  and  fortune,  and  followed  by  the 
revilings  of  the  rabble.  Such  honors,  it  is  true,  are 
nothing  to  the  dead,  nor  can  they  atone  to  the  heart, 
now  dust  and  ashes,  for  ail  the  wrongs  and  sorrows 
it  may  have  suffered  ;  but  they  speak  volumes  of 
comfort  to  the  illustrious,  yet  slandered  and  perse- 
cuted living,  encouraging  them  bravely  to  bear  with 
present  injuries,  by  showing  them  how  true  merit 
outlives  all  calumny,  and  receives  its  glorious  reward 
In  the  admiration  of  after  ages. 


No.  II. 

NOTICE   OF   THE   DESCENDANTS   OF   COLUMBUS. 

Ox  the  death  of  Columbus  his  son  Diego  succeeded 
to  his  rights,  as  viceroy  and  governor  of  the  New 
World,  according  to  the  express  capitulations  be- 
tween the  sovereigns  and  his  father.  He  appears  by 
the  general  consent  of  historians  to  have  been  a  man 
of  great  integrity,  of  respectable  talents,  and  of  a 
frank  and  generous  nature.  Herrera  speaks  repeatedly 
of  the  gentleness  and  urbanity  of  his  manners,  and 
pronounces  him  of  a  noble  disposition,  and  without 
deceit.  This  absence  of  all  guile  frequently  laid  him 
open  to  the  stratagems  of  crafty  men,  grown  old  in 
deception,  who  rendered  his  life  a  continued  series  of 
embarrassments  ;  but  the  probity  of  his  character, 
with  the  irresistible  power  of  truth,  bore  him  through 
difficulties  in  which  more  politic  and  subtle  men 
would  have  been  entangled  and  completely  lost. 


*  Xavarrete,  Colec.  torn.  ii.  p.  365. 


Immediately  after  the  death  of  the  admiral,  Don 
Diego  came  forward  as  lineal  successor,  and  urged 
the  restitution  of  the  family  olfices  and  privileges, 
which  had  been  suspended  during  the  latter  years  of 
his  father's  life.  If  the  cold  and  wary  Ferdinand, 
however,  could  forget  his  obligations  of  gratitude  and 
justice  to  Columbus,  he  had  less  difficulty  in  turning 
a  deaf  ear  to  the  solicitations  of  his  son.  For  two 
years  Don  Diego  pressed  his  suit  with  fruitless  dili- 
gence. He  felt  the  apparent  distrust  of  the  monarch 
the  more  sensibly,  from  having  been  brought  up 
under  his  eye,  as  a  page  in  the  royal  household,  where 
his  character  ought  to  be  well  known  and  appreciated. 
At  length,  on  the  return  of  Ferdinand  from  Naples  in 
1508,  he  put  to  him  a  direct  question,  with  the  frank- 
ness attributed  to  his  character.  He  demanded  "  why 
his  majesty  would  not  grant  to  him  as  a  favor,  that 
which  was  his  right,  and  why  he  hesitated  to  confide 
in  the  fidelity  of  one  who  had  been  reared  in  his 
house."  Ferdinand  replied  that  he  could  fully  con- 
fide in  him,  but  could  not  repose  so  great  a  trust  at  a 
venture  in  his  children  and  successors.  To  this  Don 
Diego  rejoined,  that  it  was  contrary  to  all  justice  and 
reason  to  make  him  suffer  for  the  sins  of  his  children, 
who  might  never  be  born.* 

Still,  though  he  had  reason  and  justice  on  his  side, 
the  young  admiral  found  it  impossible  to  bring  the 
wary  monar"h  to  a  compliance.  Finding  all  appeal 
to  all  his  ideas  of  equity  or  sentiments  of  generosity 
in  vain,  he  solicited  permission  to  pursue  his  claim  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  law.  The  king  could  not  re- 
fuse so  reasonable  a  request,  and  Don  Diego  com- 
menced a  process  against  King  Ferdinand  before  the 
council  of  the  Indies,  founded  on  the  repeated  capitu- 
lations between  the  crown  and  his  father,  and  embrac- 
ing all  the  dignities  and  immunities  ceded  by  them. 

One  ground  of  opposition  to  these  claims  was,  that 
if  the  capitulation,  made  by  the  sovereigns  in  1492,  had 
granted  a  perpetual  viceroyalty  to  the  admiral  and  his 
heirs,  such  grant  could  not  stand  ;  being  contrary  to 
the  interest  of  the  state,  and  to  an  express  law  pro- 
mulgated in  Toledo  in  1480  ;  wherein  it  was  ordained 
that  no  office,  involving  the  administration  of  justice, 
should  be  given  in  perpetuity  ;  that  therefore,  the 
viceroyalty  granted  to  the  admiral  could  only  have 
been  for  his  life  ;  and  that  even,  during  that  term,  it 
had  justly  been  taken  from  him  for  his  misconduct. 
That  such  concessions  were  contrary  to  the  inherent 
prerogatives  of  the  crown,  of  which  the  government 
could  not  divest  itself.  To  this  Don  Diego  replied, 
that  as  to  the  validity  of  the  capitulation,  it  was  a 
binding  contract,  and  none  of  its  privileges  ought  to 
be  restricted.  That  as  by  royal  schedules  dated  in 
Villa  Franca,  June  2d,  1506,  and  Almazan,  August 
28th,  1507,  it  had  been  ordered  that  he,  Don  Diego, 
should  receive  the  tenths,  so  equally  ought  the  other 
privileges  to  be  accorded  to  him.  As  to  the  allegation 
that  his  father  had  been  deprived  of  his  viceroyalty  for 
his  demerits,  it  was  contrary  to  all  truth.  It  had 
been  audacity  on  the  part  of  Bobadilla  to  send  him  a 
prisoner  to  Spain  in  1500,  and  contrary  to  the  will 
and  command  of  the  sovereigns,  as  was  proved  by 
their  letter,  dated  from  Valencia  de  la  Torre  in  1502, 
in  which  they  expressed  grief  at  his  arrest,  and  assured 
him  that  it  should  be  redressed,  and  his  privileges 
guarded  entire  to  himself  and  his  children.f 

This  memorable  suit  was  commenced  in  1508,  and 
continued  for  several  years.  In  the  course  of  it  the 
claims  of  Don  Diego  were  disputed,  likewise,  on  the 
plea  that  his  father  was  nut  the  original  discoverer  of 
Terra  Firma,  but  only  subsequently  of  certain  por- 
tions of  it.  This,  however,  was  completely  contro- 
verted by  overwhelming  testimony.  The  claims  of 
Don  Diego  were  minutely  discussed  and  rigidly  ex- 
amined, and  the  unanimous  decision  of  the  Council 
of  the  Indies  in  his  favor,  while  it  reflected  honor  on 
the  justice  and  independence  of  that  body,  silenced 

*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  ii.  lib  vii.  cap.  4. 
t  Extracts  from  the  minutes  of  the  process  taken  by  the 
historian  Munoz,  MS. 


APPENDIX. 


23? 


many  petty  cavilers  at  the  fair  fame  of  Columbus.* 
Notwithstanding  this  decision,  the  wily  monarch 
wanted  neither  means  nor  pretexts  to  delay  the  ced- 
ing of  such  vast  powers,  so  repugnant  to  his  cautious 
policy.  The  young  admiral  was  finally  indebted  for 
his  success  in  this  suit  to  previous  success  attained 
in  a  suit  of  a  different  nature.  He  had  become  en- 
amored of  Dona  Maria  de  Toledo,  daughter  of  Fer- 
nando de  Toledo,  grand  commander  of  Leon,  and 
niece  to  Don  Fadrique  Toledo,  the  celebrated  Duke  of 
Alva,  chief  favorite  of  the  king.  This  was  aspiring 
to  a  high  connection.  The  father  and  uncle  of  the 
lady  were  the  most  powerful  grandees  of  the  proud 
kingdom  of  Spain,  and  cousins  german  to  Ferdinand. 
The  glory,  however,  which  Columbus  had  left  behind, 
rested  upon  his  children,  and  the  claims  of  Don  Die- 
go, recently  confirmed  by  the  council,  involved  dig- 
nities and  wealth  sufficient  to  raise  him  to  a  level  with 
the  loftiest  alliance.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  obtain- 
ing the  hand  of  the  lady,  and  thus  was  the  foreign 
family  of  Columbus  ingrafted  on  one  of  the  proudest 
races  of  Spain.  The  natural  consequences  followed. 
Diego  had  secured  that  magical  power  called  "  con- 
nections ;"  and  the  favor  of  Ferdinand,  which  had 
been  so  long  withheld  from  him,  as  the  son  of  Colum- 
bus, shone  upon  him,  though  coldly,  as  the  nephew 
of  the  Duke  of  Alva.  The  father  and  uncle  of  his 
bride  succeeded,  though  with  great  difficulty,  in  con- 
quering the  repugnance  of  the  monarch,  and  after  all 
he  but  granted  in  part  the  justice  they  required.  He 
ceded  to  Don  Diego  merely  the  dignities  and  powers 
enjoyed  by  Nicholas  de  Ovando,  who  was  recalled, 
and  he  cautiously  withheld  the  title  of  viceroy. 

The  recall  of  Ovando  was  not  merely  a  measure  to 
make  room  for  Don  Diego  :  it  was  the  tardy  perform- 
ance of  a  promise  made  to  Isabella  on  her  death-bed. 
The  expiring  queen  had  demanded  it  as  a  punishment 
for  the  massacre  of  her  poor  Indian  subjects  at  Xara- 
gua,  and  the  cruel  and  ignominious  execution  of  the 
female  cacique  Anacaona.  Thus  retribution  was  con- 
tinually going  its  rounds  in  the  checkered  destinies  of 
this  island,  which  has  ever  presented  a  little  epitome 
of  human  history  ;  its  errors  and  crimes,  and  conse- 
quent disasters. 

In  complying  with  the  request  of  the  queen,  how- 
ever, Ferdinand  was  favorable  toward  Ovando.  He 
did  not  feel  the  same  generous  sympathies  with  his 
late  consort,  and,  however  Ovando  had  sinned 
against  humanity  in  his  treatment  qf  the  Indians,  he 
had  been  a  vigilant  officer,  and  his  very  oppressions 
had  in  general  proved  profitable  to  the  crown.  Fer- 
dinand directed  that  the  fleet  which  took  out  the  new 
governor  should  return  under  the  command  of  Ovan- 
do, and  that  he  should  retain  undisturbed  enjoyment 
of  any  property  or  Indian  slaves  that  might  be  found 
in  his  possession.  Some  have  represented  Ovando  as 
a  man  far  from  mercenary  ;  that  the  wealth  wrung 
from  the  miseries  of  the  natives  was  for  his  sovereign, 
not  for  himself  ;  and  it  is  intimated  that  one  secret 
cause  of  his  disgrace  was  his  having  made  an  enemy 
of  the  all-powerful  and  unforgiving  Fonseca.  •)• 

The  new  admiral  embarked  at  St.  Lucar,  June  gth, 
1509,  with  his  wife,  his  brother  Don  Fernando,  who 
was  now  grown  to  man's  estate,  and  had  been  well 
educated,  and  his  two  uncles,  Don  Bartholomew  and 
Don  Diego.  They  were  accompanied  by  a  numerous 
retinue  of  cavaliers,  with  their  wives,  and  of  young 
ladies  of  rank  and  family,  more  distinguished,  it  is 
hinted,  for  high  blood  than  large  fortune,  and  who 
were  sent  out  to  find  wealthy  husbands  in  the  New 
World.:): 

Though  the  king  had  not  granted  Don  Diego  the 
dignity  of  viceroy,  the  title  was  generally  given  to 
him  by  courtesy,  and  his  wife  was  universally  ad- 
dressed by  that  of  vice-queen. 

Don   Diego  commenced  his  rule  with  a  degree  of 


*  Further  mention  will  be  found  of  this  lawsuit  in  the  ar- 
ticle relative  to  Amerigo  Vespucci. 

t  Charlevoix,  ut  supra,  v.  i.  p.  272,  id.  274. 
$  Las  Casas,  lib.  ii.  cap.  49,  MS. 


splendor  hitherto  unknown  in  the  colony.  The  vice- 
qiieen,  who  was  a  lady  of  great  desert,  surrounded  by 
the  noble  cavaliers  and  the  young  ladies  of  family 
who  had  come  in  her  retinue,  established  a  sort  of 
court,  which  threw  a  degree  of  lustre  over  the  half-sav- 
age island.  The  young  ladies  were  soon  married  to 
the  wealthiest  colonists,  and  contributed  greatly  to 
soften  those  rude  manneis  which  had  grown  up  in  a 
state  of  society  hitherto  destitute  of  the  salutary  re- 
straint and  pleasing  decorum  produced  by  female  in- 
fluence. 

Don  Diego  had  considered  his  appointment  in  the 
light  of  a  viceroyalty,  but  the  king  soon  took  meas- 
ures which  showed  that  he  admitted  of  no  such  pre- 
tension. Without  any  reference  to  Don  Diego,  he 
divided  the  coast  of  Darien  into  two  great  provinces, 
separated  by  an  imaginary  line  running  through  the 
Gulf  of  Uraba,  appointing  Alonso  de  Ojeda  governor 
of  the  eastern  province,  which  he  called  New  Anda- 
lusia, and  Diego  de  Nicuessa,  governor  of  the  west- 
ern province,  which  included  the  rich  coast  of  Vea- 
gua,  and  which  he  called  Castilla  del  Oro,  or  Golden 
Castile.  Had  the  monarch  been  swayed  by  principles 
of  justice  and  gratitude,  the  settlement  of  this  coast 
would  have  been  given  to  the  Adelantado,  Don  Bar- 
tholomew Columbus,  who  had  assisted  in  the  discov- 
ery of  the  country,  and,  together  with  his  brother  the 
admiral,  had  suffered  so  greatly  in  the  enterprise. 
Even  his  superior  abilities  for  the  task  should  have 
pointed  him  out  to  the  policy  of  the  monarch  ;  but  the 
cautious  and  calculating  Ferdinand  knew  the  lofty 
spirit  of  the  Adelantado,  and  that  he  would  be  dis- 
posed to  demand  high  and  dignified  terms.  He  passed 
him  by,  therefore,  and  preferred  more  eager  and  ac- 
commodating adventurers. 

Don  Diego  was  greatly  aggrieved  at  this  measure, 
thus  adopted  without  his  participation  or  knowledge. 
He  justly  considered  it  an  infringement  of  the  capitu- 
lations granted  and  repeatedly  confirmed  to  his  father 
and  his  heirs.  He  had  further  vexations  and  difficul- 
ties with  respect  to  the  government  of  the  island  of 
St.  Juan,  or  Porto  Rico,  which  was  conquered  and 
settled  about  this  time  ;  but  after  a  variety  of  cross 
purposes,  the  officers  whom  he  appointed  were  ulti- 
mately recognized  by  the  crown. 

Like  his  father,  he  had  to  contend  with  malignant 
factions  in  his  government  ;  for  the  enemies  of  the 
father  transferred  their  enmity  to  the  son.  There  was 
one  Miguel  Pasamonte,  the  king's  treasurer,  who  be- 
came his  avowed  enemy,  under  the  support  and 
chiefly  at  the  instigation  of  the  Bishop  Fonseca,  who 
continued  to  the  son  the  implacable  hostility  which  he 
had  manifested  to  the  father.  A  variety  of  trivial  cir- 
cumstances contributed  to  embroil  him  with  some  of 
the  petty  officers  of  the  colony,  and  there  was  a  rem- 
nant of  the  followers  of  Roldan  who  arrayed  them- 
selves against  him.* 

Two  factions  soon  arose  in  the  island  ;  one  of  the 
admiral,  the  other  of  the  treasurer  Pasamonte.  The 
latter  affected  to  call  themselves  the  party  of  the  king. 
They  gave  all  possible  molestation  to  Don  Diego, 
and  sent  home  the  most  virulent  and  absurd  misrepre- 
sentations of  his  conduct.  Among  others,  they  repre- 
sented a  large  house  with  many  windows  which  he 
was  building,  as  intended  for  a  fortress,  and  asserted 
that  he  had  a  design  to  make  himself  sovereign  of  the 
island.  King  Ferdinand,  who  was  now  advancing  in 
years,  had  devolved  the  affairs  of  the  Indies  in  a  great 
measure  on  Fonseca.f  who  had  superintended  them 
from  the  first,  and  he  was  greatly  guided  by  the  ad- 
vice of  that  prelate,  which  was  not  likely  to  be  favor- 
able to  the  descendants  of  Columbus.  The  complaints 
from  the  colonies  were  so  artfully  enforced,  there- 
fore, that  he  established  in  1510  a  sovereign  court  at 
St.  Domingo,  called  the  royal  audience,  to  which  an 
appeal  might  be  made  from  all  sentences  of  the  ad- 
miral, even  in  cases  reserved  hitherto  exclusively  for 
the  crown.  Don  Diego  considered  this  a  suspicious 

*  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  vii.  cap.  la. 
t  Ibid. 


238 


APPENDIX. 


and  injurious  measure  intended  to  demolish  his  au- 
thority. 

Frank,  open,  and  unsuspicious,  the  young  admiral 
was  not  formed  for  a  contest  with  the  crafty  politi- 
cians arrayed  against  him,  who  were  ready  and  adroit 
in  seizing  upon  his  slightest  errors,  and  magnifying 
them  into  crimes.  Difficulties  were  multiplied  in  his 
path  which  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  overcome.  He 
had  entered  upon  office  full  of  magnanimous  inten- 
tions, determined  to  put  an  end  to  oppression,  and 
correct  all  abuses  ;  all  good  men  therefore  had  re- 
joiced at  his  appointment  ;  but  he  soon  found  that 
he  had  overrated  his  strength,  and  undervalued  the 
difficulties  awaiting  him.  He  calculated  from  his  own 
good  heart,  but  he  had  no  idea  of  the  wicked  hearts  of 
others.  He  was  opposed  to  the  repartimientos  of  In- 
dians, that  source  of  all  kinds  of  inhumanity  ;  but  he 
found  all  the  men  of  wealth  in  the  colony,  and  most 
of  the  important  persons  of  the  court,  interested  in 
maintaining  them.  He  perceived  that  the  attempt  to 
abolish  them  would  be  dangerous,  and  the  result 
questionable  ;  at  the  same  time  this  abuse  was  a 
source  of  immense  profit  to  himself.  Self-interest, 
therefore,  combined  with  other  considerations,  and 
what  at  first  appeared  difficult,  seemed  presently  im- 
practicable. The  repartimientos  continued  in  the  state 
in  which  he  found  them,  excepting  that  he  removed 
such  of  the  superintendents  as  had  been  cruel  and  op- 
pressive, and  substituted  men  of  his  own  appointment, 
who  probably  proved  equally  worthless.  His  friends 
were  disappointed,  his  enemies  encouraged  ;  a  hue 
and  cry  was  raised  against  him  by  the  friends  of  those 
he  had  displaced  ;  and  it  was  even  said  thai,  if  Ovando 
had  not  died  about  this  time,  he  would  have  been  sent 
out  to  supplant  Don  Diego. 

The  subjugation  and  settlement  of  the  island  of 
Cuba,  in  1510,  was  a  fortunate  event  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  the  present  admiral.  He  congratulated  King 
Ferdinand  on  having  acquired  the  largest  and  most 
beautiful  island  in  the  world  without  losing  a  single 
man.  The  intelligence  was  highly  acceptable  to  the 
king  ;  but  it  was  accompanied  by  a  great  number  of 
complaints  against  the  admiral.  Little  affection  as 
Ferdinand  felt  for  Don  Diego,  he  was  still  aware  that 
most  of  these  representations  were  false,  and  had 
their  origin  in  the  jealousy  and  envy  of  his  enemies. 
He  judged  it  expedient,  however,  in  1512,  to  send  out 
Don  Bartholomew  Columbus  with  minute  instructions 
to  his  nephew  the  admiral. 

Don  Bartholomew  still  retained  the  office  of  Ade- 
lantado  of  the  Indies  ;  although  Ferdinand,  through 
selfish  motives,  detained  him  in  Spain,  while  he  em- 
ployed inferior  men  in  voyages  of  discovery.  He  now 
added  to  his  appointments  the  property  and  govern- 
ment of  the  little  island  of  Mona  during  life,  and  as- 
signed him  a  repartimiento  of  two  hundred  Indians, 
with  the  superintendence  of  the  mines  which  might 
be  discovered  in  Cuba  ;  an  office  which  proved  very 
lucrative.* 

Among  the  instructions  given  by  the  king  to  Don 
Diego,  he  directed  that,  in  consequence  of  the  repre- 
sentations of  the  Dominican  friars,  the  labor  of  the 
natives  should  be  reduced  to  one  third  ;  that  negro 
slaves  should  be  procured  from  Guinea  as  a  relief  to 
the  Indians,!  and  thatCarib  slaves  should  be  branded 
on  the  leg,  to  prevent  other  Indians  from  being  con- 
founded with  them  and  subjected  to  harsh  treatment.  £ 

The  two  governors,  Ojeda  and  Nicuessa,  whom  the 
king  had  appointed  to  colonize  and  command  at  the 
Isthmus  of  Darien,  in  Terra  Firma,  having  failed  in 
their  undertaking,  the  sovereign,  in  1514,  wrote  to 
Hispaniola,  permitting  the  Adelantado,  Don  Bartholo- 
mew, if  so  inclined,  to  take  charge  of  settling  the  coast 
of  Veragua,  and  to  govern  that  country  under  the  ad- 
miral Don  Diego  conformably  to  his  privileges.  Had 
the  king  consulted  his  own  interest,  and  the  deference 
due  to  the  talents  and  services  of  the  Adelantado,  this 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  p.  321. 

t  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ix.  cap.  5. 

J  Ibid. 


measure  would  have  been  taicen  at  an  earlier  date.  It 
was  now  too  late  :  illness  prevented  Don  Bartholo- 
mew from  executing  the  enterprise,  and  his  active 
and  toilsome  life  was  drawing  to  a  close. 

Many  calumnies  having  been  sent  home  to  Spain 
by  Pasamonte  and  other  enemies  of  Don  Diego,  and 
various  measures  being  taken  by  government,  which 
he  conceived  derogatory  to  his  dignity,  and  injurious 
to  his  privileges,  he  requested  and  obtained  permis- 
sion to  repair  to  court,  that  he  might  explain  and 
vindicate  his  conduct.  He  departed,  accordingly,  on 
April  9th,  1515,  leaving  the  Adelantado  with  the  vice- 
queen  Dona  Maria.  He  was  received  with  great  honor 
by  the  king,  and  he  merited  such  a  reception.  He 
had  succeeded  in  every  enterprise  he  had  undertaken 
or  directed.  The  pearl  fishery  had  been  successfully 
established  on  the  coast  of  Cubagua  ;  the  islands  of 
Cuba  and  of  Jamaica  had  been  subjected  and  brought 
under  cultivation  without  bloodshed  ;  his  conduct  as 
governor  had  been  upright  ;  and  he  had  only  excited 
the  representations  made  against  him,  by  endeavoring 
to  lessen  the  oppression  of  the  natives.  The  king 
ordered  that  all  processes  against  him  in  the  court  of 
appeal  and  elsewhere,  for  damages  done  to  individ- 
uals in  regulating  the  repartimienios,  should  be  dis- 
continued, and  the  cases  sent  to  himself  for  considera- 
tion. But  with  all  these  favors,  as  the  admiral  claimed 
a  share  of  the  profits  of  the  provinces  of  Castilla  del 
Oro,  saying  that  it  was  discovered  by  his  father,  as  the 
names  of  its  places,  such  as  Nombre  de  Dios,  Porto 
Bello,  and  el  Retrete,  plainly  proved,  the  king  ordered 
that  interrogatories  should  be  made  among  the  mari- 
ners who  had  sailed  with  Christopher  Columbus,  in 
the  hop»  of  proving  that  he  had  not  discovered  the 
coast  of  Darien  nor  the  Gulf  of  Uraba.  "  Thus,"  adds 
Herrera,  "  Don  Diego  was  always  involved  in  litiga- 
tions with  the  fiscal,  so  that  he  might  truly  say  that  he 
was  heir  to  the  troubles  of  his  father  "' 

Not  long  after  the  departure  of  Don  Diego  from  St. 
Domingo,  his  uncle,  Don  Bartholomew,  ended  his  ac- 
tive and  laborious  life.  No  particulars  are  given  of  his 
death,  nor  is  there  mention  made  of  his  age,  which 
must  have  been  advanced.  King  Ferdinand  is  said  to 
have  expressed  great  concern  at  the  event,  for  he  had 
a  high  opinion  of  the  character  and  talents  of  the 
Adelantado:  "a  man,"  says  Herrera,  "of  not  less 
worth  than  his  brother  the  admiral,  and  who,  if  he 
had  been  employed,  would  have  given  great  proofs  of 
it  ;  for  he  was  an  excellent  seaman,  valiant  and  of 
great, heart. "f  Charlevoix  attributes  the  inaction  in 
which  Don  Bartholomew  had  been  suffered  to  remain 
for  several  years,  to  the  jealousy  and  parsimony  of 
the  king.  He  found  the  house  already  too  powerful  ; 
and  the  Adelantado,  had  he  discovered  Mexico,  was  a 
man  to  make  as  good  conditions  as  had  been  made  by 
the  admiral  his  brother.}:  It  was  said,  observed  Her- 
rera, that  the  king  rather  preferred  to  employ  him  in 
his  European  affairs,  though  it  could  only  have  been 
to  divert  him  from  other  objects.  On  his  death  the 
king  resumed  to  himself  the  island  of  Mona,  which  he 
had  given  to  him  for  life,  and  transferred  his  reparti- 
miento of  two  hundred  Indians  to  the  vice-queen  Dona 
Maria. 

While  the  admiral  Don  Diego  was  pressing  for  an 
audience  in  his  vindication  at  court.  King  Ferdinand 
died,  on  the  23d  of  January,  1516.  His  grandson  and 
successor.  Prince  Charles,  afterward  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.,  was  in  Flanders.  The  government  rested 
for  a  time  with  Cardinal  Ximenes,  who  would  not 
undertake  to  decide  on  the  representations  and  claims 
of  the  admiral.  It  was  not  until  1520  that  he  obtained 
from  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  a  recognition  of  his  in- 
nocence of  all  the  charges  against  him.  The  emperor 
finding  that  what  Pasamonte  and  his  party  had  writ- 
ten were  notorious  calumnies,  ordered  Don  Diego  to 
resume  his  charge,  although  the  process  with  the  fiscal 
was  still  pending,  and  that  Pasamonte  should  be  written 

*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  ii.  lib,  ii.  cap.  7. 

t  Ibid.,  decad.  i.  lib.  x.  cap.  16. 

j  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  5. 


APPENDIX. 


239 


to,  requesting  him  to  forget  all  past  passions  and 
differences,  and  to  enter  into  amicable  relations  with 
Don  Diego.  Among  other  acts  of  indemnification  he 
acknowledged  his  right  to  exercise  his  office  of  vice- 
roy and  governor  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  and  in 
all  parts  discovered  by  his  father.*  His  authority 
was,  however,  much  diminished  by  new  regulations, 
and  a  supervisor  appointed  over  him  with  the  right 
to  give  information  to  the  council  against  him,  but 
with  no  other  powers.  Don  Diego  sailed  in  the  be- 
ginning of  September,  1520,  and  on  his  arrival  at  St. 
Domingo,  finding  that  several  of  the  governors,  pre- 
suming on  his  long  absence,  had  arrogated  to  them- 
selves independence,  and  had  abused  their  powers,  he 
immediately  sent  persons  to  supersede  them,  and  de- 
manded an  account  of  their  administration.  This 
made  him  a  host  of  active  and  powerful  enemies  both 
in  the  colonies  and  in  Spain. 

Considerable  changes  had  taken  place  in  the  island 
of  Hispaniola,  during  the  absence  of  the  admiral.  The 
mines  had  fallen  into  neglect,  the  cultivation  of  the 
sugar-cane  having  been  found  a  more  certain  source 
of  wealth.  It  became  a  by-word  in  Spain  that  the 
magnificent  palaces  erected  by  Charles  V.  at  Madrid 
and  Toledo  were  built  of  the  sugar  of  Hispaniola. 
Slaves  had  been  imported  in  great  numbers  from  Af- 
rica, being  found  more  serviceable  in  the  culture  of 
the  cane  than  the  feeble  Indians.  The  treatment  of  the 
poor  negroes  was  cruel  in  the  extreme  ;  and  they 
seem  to  have  had  no  advocates  even  among  the  hu- 
mane. The  slavery  of  the  Indians  had  been  founded 
on  the  right  of  the  strong  ;  but  it  was  thought  that  the 
negroes,  from  their  color,  were  born  to  slavery  ;  and 
that  from  being  bought  and  sold  in  their  own  country, 
it  was  their  natural  condition.  Though  a  patient  and 
enduring  race,  the  barbarities  inflicted  on  them  at 
length  roused  them  to  revenge,  and  on  the  27th  of  De- 
cember, 1522,  there  was  the  first  African  revolt  in 
Hispaniola.  It  began  in  a  sugar  plantation  of  the  Ad- 
miral Don  Diego,  where  about  twenty  slaves,  joined 
by  an  equal  number  from  a  neighboring  plantation, 
got  possession  of  arms,  rose  on  their  superintendents, 
massacred  them,  and  sallied  forth  upon  the  country. 
It  was  their  intention  to  pillage  certain  plantations,  to 
kill  the  whites,  reinforce  themselves  by  freeing  their 
countrymen,  and  either  to  possess  themselves  of  the 
town  of  Agua.or  to  escape  to  the  mountains. 

Don  Diego  set  out  from  St.  Domingo  in  search  of 
the  rebels,  followed  by  several  of  the  principal  inhabi- 
tants. On  the  second  day  he  stopped  on  the  banks  of 
the  River  Ni/ao  to  rest  his  party  and  suffer  reinforce- 
ments to  overtake  him.  Here  one  Melchor  de  Cas- 
tro, who  accompanied  the  admiral,  learned  that  the 
negroes  had  ravaged  his  plantation,  sacked  his  house, 
killed  one  of  his  men,  and  carried  off  his  Indian 
slaves.  Without  asking  leave  of  the  admiral,  he  de- 
parted in  the  night  with  two  companions,  visited  his 
plantation,  found  all  in  confusion,  and  pursuing  the 
negroes,  sent  to  the  admiral  for  aid.  Eight  horse- 
men were  hastily  dispatched  to  his  assistance,  armed 
with  bucklers  and  lances,  and  having  six  of  the  infan- 
try mounted  behind  them.  De  Castro  had  three  horse- 
men besides  this  reinforcement,  and  at  the  head  of  this 
little  band  overtook  the  negroes  at  break  of  day.  The 
insurgents  put  themselves  in  battle  array,  armed  with 
stones  and  Indian  spears,  and  uttering  loud  shouts 
and  outcries.  The  Spanish  horsemen  braced  their 
bucklers,  couched  their  lances,  and  charged  them  at 
full  speed.  The  negroes  were  soon  routed,  and  fled 
to  the  rocks,  leaving  six  dead  and  several  wounded. 
De  Castro  also  tvas  wounded  in  the  arm.  The_  admiral 
coming  up,  assisted  in  the  pursuit  of  the  fugitives.  As 
fast  as  they  were  taken  they  were  hanged  on  the 
nearest  trees,  and  remained  suspended  as  spectacles 
of  terror  to  their  countrymen.  This  prompt  severity 
checked  all  further  attempts  at  revolt  among  the  Af- 
rican slaves,  t 

In  the  mean  time  the  various  enemies  whom  Don 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  ii.  lib.  ix.  cap.  7. 
t  Ibid.,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  9. 


Diego  had  created,  both  in  the  colonies  and  in  Spain, 
were  actively  and  successfully  employed.  His  old  an- 
tagonist, the  treasurer  Pasamonte,  had  charged  him 
with  usurping  almost  all  the  powers  of  the  royal  au- 
dience, and  with  having  given  to  the  royal  declara- 
tion, re-establishing  him  in  his  office  of  viceroy,  an  ex- 
tent never  intended  by  the  sovereign.  These  repre- 
sentations had  weight  at  court,  and  in  1523  Don  Diego 
received  a  most  severe  letter  from  the  Council  of  the 
Indies,  charging  him  with  the  various  abuses  and  ex- 
cesses  alleged  against  him,  and  commanding  him,  on 
pain  of  forfeiting  all  his  privileges  and  titles,  to  revoke 
the  innovations  he  had  made,  and  restore  things  to 
their  former  state.  To  prevent  any  plea  of  ignorance 
of  this  mandate,  the  royal  audience  was  enjoined  to 
promulgate  it  and  to  call  upon  all  persons  to  conform 
to  it,  and  to  see  that  it  was  properly  obeyed.  The  ad- 
miral received  also  a  letter  from  the  council,  inform- 
ing him  that  his  presence  was  necessary  in  Spain,  to 
give  information  of  the  foregoing  matters,  and  advice 
relative  to  the  reformation  of  various  abuses,  and  to 
the  treatment  and  preservation  of  the  Indians  ;  he  was 
requested,  therefore,  to  repair  to  court  without  wait- 
ing for  further  orders.* 

Don  Diego  understood  this  to  be  a  peremptory  re- 
call, and  obeyed  accordingly.  On  his  arrival  in  Spain, 
he  immediately  presented  himself  before  the  court  at 
Victoria,  with  the  frank  and  fearless  spirit  of  an  up- 
right man,  and  pleaded  his  cause  so  well  that  the 
sovereign  and  council  acknowledged  his  innocence  on 
all  the  points  of  accusation.  He  convinced  them, 
moreover,  of  the  exactitude  with  which  he  had  dis- 
charged his  duties  ;  of  his  zeal  for  the  public  good, 
and  the  glory  of  the  crown  •  and  that  all  the  represen- 
tations against  him  rose  from  the  jealousy  and  enmity 
of  Pasamonte  and  other  royal  officers  in  the  colonies, 
who  were  impatient  of  any  superior  authority  in  the 
island  to  restrain  them. 

Having  completely  established  his  innocence,  and 
exposed  the  calumnies  of  his  enemies,  Don  Diego 
trusted  that  he  would  soon  obtain  justice  as  to  all  his 
claims.  As  these,  however,  involved  a  participation 
in  the  profits  of  vast  and  richly  productive  provinces, 
he  experienced  the  delays  and  difficulties  usual  with 
such  demands,  for  it  is  only  when  justice  costs  noth- 
ing that  it  is  readily  rendered.  His  earnest  solicita- 
lions  at  length  obtained  an  order  from  the  emperor, 
that  a  commission  should  be  formed,  composed  of  the 
grand  chancellor,  the  Friar  Loyasa,  confessor  to  the 
emperor,  and  president  of  the  royal  Council  of  the  In- 
dies, and  a  number  of  other  distinguished  personages. 
They  were  to  inquire  into  the  various  points  in  dis- 
pute between  the  admiral  and  ihe  fiscal,  and  into  the 
proceedings  which  had  taken  place  in  the  Council  of 
the  Indies,  with  the  power  of  determining  what  jus- 
tice required  in  the  case. 

The  affair,  however,  was  protracted  to  such  a  length, 
and  accompanied  by  so  many  toils,  vexations,  and 
disappointments,  that  the  unfortunate  Diego,  like  his 
father,  died  in  the  pursuit.  For  two  years  he  had  fol- 
lowed the  court  from  city  to  city,  during  its  migra- 
tions from  Victoria  to  Burgos,  Valladolid,  Madrid,  and 
Toledo  In  the  winter  of  1525,  the  emperor  set  out 
from  Toledo  for  Seville.  The  admiral  undertook  to 
follow  him,  though  his  constitution  was  broken  by 
fatigue  and  vexation,  and  he  was  wasting  under  the 
attack  of  a  slow  fever.  Oviedo,  the  historian,  saw  him 
at  Toledo  two  days  before  his  departure,  and  joined 
with  his  friends  in  endeavoring  to  dissuade  him  from 
a  journey  in  such  a  state  of  health,  and  at  such  a 
season.  Their  persuasions  were  in  vain.  Don  Diego 
was  not  aware  of  the  extent  of  his  malady  :  he  told 
them  that  he  should  repair  to  Seville  by  the  church  of 
our  Lady  of  Guadaloupe,  to  offer  up  his  devotions  at 
that  shrine  ;  and  he  trusted,  through  the  intercession 
of  the  mother  of  God,  soon  to  be  restored  to  health,  t 
He  accordingly  left  Toledo  in  a  litter  on  the  2ist  of 
February,  1526,  having  previously  confessed  and 

*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  lib.  v.  cap.  4. 
t  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  vi. 


240 


APPENDIX. 


taken  the  communion,  and  arrived  the  same  day  at 
Montalvan,  distant  about  six  leagues.  There  his  ill- 
ness increased  to  such  a  degree  that  he  saw  his  end 
approaching.  He  employed  the  following  day  in  ar- 
ranging the  affairs  of  his  conscience,  and  expired  on 
February  23d,  being  little  more  than  fifty  years  of  age, 
his  premature  death  having  been  hastened  by  the 
griefs  and  troubles  he  had  experienced.  "  He  was 
worn  out,"  says  Herrera,  "  by  following  up  his 
claims,  and  defending  himself  from  the  calumnies  of 
his  competitors,  who,  with  many  stratagems  and  de- 
vices, sought  to  obscure  the  glory  of  the  father  and 
the  virtue  of  the  son."* 

We  have  seen  how  the  discovery  of  the  New  World 
rendered  the  residue  of  the  life  of  Columbus  a  tissue 
of  wrongs,  hardships  and  afflictions,  and  how  the 
jealousy  and  enmity  he  had  awakened  were  inherited 
by  his  son.  It  remains  to  show  briefly  in  what  degree 
the  anticipations  of  perpetuity,  wealth,  and  honor  to 
his  family  were  fulfilled. 

When  Don  Diego  Columbus  died,  his  wife  and  fam- 
ily were  at  St.  Domingo.  He  left  two  sons,  Luis  and 
Christopher,  and  three  daughters— Maria,  who  after- 
ward married  Don  Sancho  de  Cardono  ;  Juana,  who 
married  Don  Luis  de  Cueva  ;  and  Isabella,  who  mar- 
ried Don  George  of  Portugal,  Count  of  Gelves.  He 
had  also  a  natural  son  named  Christopher.f 

After  the  death  of  Don  Diego,  his  noble-spirited 
vice-queen,  left  with  a  number  of  young  children,  en- 
deavored to  assert  and  maintain  the  rights  of  the  fam- 
ily. Understanding  that,  according  to  the  privileges 
accorded  to  Christopher  Columbus,  they  had  a  just 
claim  to  the  viceroyalty  of  the  province  of  Veragua, 
as  having  been  discovered  by  him,  she  demanded  a 
license  from  the  royal  audience  of  Hispaniola,  to  re- 
cruit men  and  fit  out  an  armada  to  colonize  that  coun- 
try. This  the  audience  refused,  and  sent  information 
of  the  demand  to  the  emperor.  He  replied  that  the 
vice-queen  should  be  kept  in  suspense  until  the  jus- 
tice of  her  claim  could  be  ascertained  ;  as,  although  he 
had  at  various  times  given  commissions  to  different 
persons  to  examine  the  doubts  and  objections  which 
had  been  opposed  by  the  fiscal,  no  decision  had  ever 
been  made.|  The  enterprise  thus  contemplated  by 
the  vice-queen  was  never  carried  into  effect. 

Shortly  afterward  she  sailed  for  Spain,  to  protect 
the  claim  of  her  eldest  son,  Don  Luis,  then  six  years 
of  age.  Charles  V.  was  absent,  but  she  was  most  gra- 
ciously received  by  the  empress.  The  title  of  admiral 
of  the  Indies  was  immediately  conferred  on  her  son, 
Don  Luis,  and  the  emperor  augmented  his  revenues, 
and  conferred  other  favors  on  the  family.  Charles  V., 
however,  could  never  be  prevailed  on  to  give  Don 
Luis  the  title  of  viceroy,  although  that  dignity  had 
been  decreed  to  his  father,  a  few  years  previous  to  his 
death,  as  an  hereditary  right.^ 

In  1538  the  young  admiral,  Don  Luis,  then  about 
eighteen  years  of  age,  was  at  court  having  instituted 
proceedings  before  the  proper  tribunals  for  the  re- 
covery of  the  viceroyalty.  Two  years  afterward  the 
suit  was  settled  by  arbitration,  his  uncle  Don  Fer- 
nando and  Cardinal  Loyasa,  president  of  the  council 
of  the  Indies,  being  umpires.  By  a  compromise  Don 
Luis  was  declared  captain-general  of  Hispaniola,  but 
with  such  limitations  that  it  was  little  better  than  a 
bare  title.  Don  Luis  sailed  for  Hispaniola,  but  did 
not  remain  there  long.  He  found  his  dignities  and 
privileges  mere  sources  of  vexation,  and  finally  entered 
into  a  compromise,  which  relieved  himself  and  grati- 


*  Herrera,  d^cad.  iii.  lib.  viii.  cap.  15. 

t  Memorial  ajustado  sobre  el  estado  de  Veragua. 

Charlevoix  mentions  another  son  called  Diego,  and  calls 
one  of  the  daughters  Phillipine.  Spotorno  says  that  the 
daughter  Maria  took  the  veil ;  confounding  her  with  a  niece. 
These  are  trivial  errors,  merely  noticed  to  avoid  the  impu- 
tation of  inaccuracy.  The  account  of  the  descendants  of 
Columbus  here  given,  accords  with  a  genealogical  tree  of 
the  family,  produced  before  the  council  of  the  Indies,  in  a 
great  lawsuit  for  the  estates. 

t  Henr ra,  decad.  iv.  lib.  ii.  cap.  6. 

§  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  lib.  vi.  p.  443. 


fied  the  emperor.  He  gave  up  all  pretensions  to  the 
viceroyalty  of  the  New  World,  receiving  in  its  stead 
the  titles  of  Duke  of  Veragua  and  Marquis  of  Ja- 
maica.* He  commuted  also  the  claim  to  the  tenth  of 
the  produce  of  the  Indies  for  a  pension  of  one  thou- 
sand doubloons  of  gold.f 

Don  Luis  did  not  long  enjoy  the  substitution  of  a 
certain,  though  moderate,  revenue  for  a  magnificent 
but  unproductive  claim.  He  died  shortly  afterward, 
leaving  no  other  male  issue  than  an  illegitimate  son, 
named  Christopher.  He  left  two  daughters  by  his 
wife,  Dona  Maria  de  Mosquera,  one  named  Phillippa, 
and  the  other  Maria,  which  last  became  a  nun  in  the 
convent  of  St.  Quirce,  at  Valladolid. 

Don  Luis  having  no  legitimate  son,  was  succeeded 
by  his  nephew  Diego,  son  to  his  brother  Christopher. 
A  litigation  took  place  between  this  young  hei.  and 
his  cousin  Phillippa,  daughter  of  the  late  Don  Luis. 
The  convent  of  St.  Quirce  also  put  in  a  claim,  on  be- 
half of  its  inmate,  Dona  Maria,  who  had  taken  the 
veil.  Christopher,  natural  son  to  Don  Luis,  likewise 
became  a  prosecutor  in  the  suit,  but  was  set  aside  on 
account  of  his  illegitimacy.  Don  Diego  and  his  cousin 
Phillippa  soon  thought  it  better  to  join  claims  and  per- 
sons in  wedlock,  than  to  pursue  a  tedious  contest. 
They  were  married,  and  their  union  was  happy, 
though  not  fruitful.  Diego  died  without  issue  in  1578, 
and  with  him  the  legitimate  male  line  of  Columbus 
became  extinct. 

One  of  the  most  important  lawsuits  that  the  world 
has  ever  witnessed  now  arose  for  the  estates  and  dig- 
nities descended  from  the  great  discoverer.  Don  Di- 
ego had  two  sisters,  Francisca  and  Maria,  the  former 
of  whom,  and  the  children  of  the  latter,  advanced  their 
several  claims.  To  these  parties  was  added  Bernard 
Colombo  of  Cogoleto,  who  claimed  as  lineal  descend- 
ant from  Bartholomew  Columbus,  the  Adelantado, 
brother  to  the  discoverer.  He  was,  however,  pro- 
nounced ineligible,  as  the  Adelantado  had  no  acknowl- 
edged, and  certainly  no  legitimate  offspring. 

Baldassar,  or  Balthazar  Colombo,  of  the  house  of 
Cuccaro  and  Conzano,  in  the  dukedom  of  Montferrat, 
in  Piedmont,  was  an  active  and  persevering  claimant. 
He  came  from  Italy  into  Spain,  where  he  devoted 
himself  for  many  years  to  the  prosecution  of  this  suit. 
He  produced  a  genealogical  tree  of  his  family,  in  which 
was  contained  one  Domenico  Colombo,  Lord  of  Cuc- 
caro, whom  he  maintained  to  be  the  identical  father 
of  Christopher  Columbus,  the  admiral.  He  proved 
that  this  Domenico  was  living  at  the  requisite  era,  and 
produced  many  witnesses  who  had  heard  that  the  navi- 
gator was  born  in  the  castle  of  Cuccaro  ;  whence,  it 
was  added,  he  and  his  two  brothers  had  eloped  at  an 
early  age,  and  had  never  returned.}:  A  monk  is  also 
mentioned  among  the  witnesses,  who  made  oath  that 
Christopher  and  his  brothers  were  born  in  that  castle 
of  Cuccaro.  This  testimony  was  afterward  withdrawn 
by  the  prosecutor  ;  as  it  was  found  that  the  monk's 
recollection  must  have  extended  back  considerably 
upward  of  a  century. £  The  claim  of  Balthazar  was 
negatived.  His  proofs  that  Christopher  Columbus  was 
a  native  of  Cuccaro  were  rejected,  as  only  hearsay,  or 
traditionary  evidence.  His  ancestor  Domenico,  it  ap- 
peared from  his  own  showing,  died  in  1456  ;  whereas 
it  was  established  that  Domenico,  the  father  of  the 
admiral,  was  living  upward  of  thirty  years  after  that 
date. 

The  cause  was  finally  decided  by  the  Council  of  the 
Indies,  on  the  2d  of  December.  1608.  The  male  line 
was  declared  to  be  extinct.  Don  Nuno  or  Nugno  Gelves 
de  Portugallo  was  put  in  possession,  and  became  Duke 
of  Veragua.  He  was  grandson  to  Isabella,  third 
daughter  of  Don  Diego  (son  of  the  discoverer)  by  his 
vice-queen.  Dona  Maria  de  Toledo.  The  descendants 
of  the  two  elder  sisters  of  Isabella  had  a  prior  claim, 
but  their  lines  became  extinct  previous  to  this  decision 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  torn.  i.  lib.  vi.  p.  446. 

t  Spotorno,  Hist.  Colom.,  p.  123. 

J  Bossi,  Hist.  Colomb.  Dissert.,  p.  67. 

§  Ibid.,  Dissert,  on  the  Country  of  Columbus,  p.  63. 


APPENDIX. 


241 


of  the  suit.  The  Isabella  just  named  had  married 
Don  George  of  Portugal,  Count  of  Gelves.  "  Thus," 
says  Charlevoix, ' '  the  dignities  and  wealth  of  Columbus 
passed  into  a  branch  of  the  Portuguese  house  of 
Braganza,  established  in  Spain,  of  which  the  heirs  are 
entitled  De  Portugallo,  Colon,  Duke  de  Veragua,  Mar- 
ques de  la  Jamaica, y  Almirante  de  las  Indias."* 

The  suit  of  Balthazar  Colombo  of  Cuccaro  was  re- 
jected under  three  different  forms,  by  the  Council  of 
the  Indies  ;  and  his  application  for  an  allowance  of 
support,  under  the  legacy  of  Columbus,  in  favor  of 
poor  relations,  was  also  refused  ;  although  the  other 
parties  had  assented  to  the  demand. f  He  died  in 
Spain,  where  he  had  resided  many  years  in  prosecu- 
tion of  this  suit.  His  son  returned  to  Italy  persisting 
in  the  validity  of  his  claim  :  he  said  that  it  was  in  vain 
to  seek  justice  in  Spain  ;  they  were  too  much  inter- 
ested to  keep  those  dignities  and  estates  among  them- 
selves ;  but  he  gave  out  that  he  had  received  twelve 
thousand  doubloons  of  gold  in  compromise  from  the 
other  parties.  Spotorno,  under  sanction  ot  Ignazio  de 
Giovanni,  a  learned  canon,  treats  this  assertion  as  a 
bravado,  to  cover  his  defeat,  being  contradicted  by  his 
evident  poverty.:):  The  family  of  Cuccaro,  however, 
still  maintain  their  right,  and  express  great  venera- 
tion for  the  memory  of  their  illustrious  ancestor,  the 
admiral  ;  and  travellers  occasionally  visit  their  old 
castle  in  Piedmont  with  great  reverence,  as  the  birth- 
place of  the  discoverer  of  the  New  World. 


No.  III. 

FERNANDO   COLUMBUS. 

FERNANDO  COLUMBUS  (or  Colon,  as  he  is  called  in 
Spain),  the  natural  son  and  historian  of  the  admiral, 
was  born  in  Cordova.  There  is  an  uncertainty  about 
the  exact  time  of  his  birth.  According  to  his  epitaph, 
it  must  have  been  on  the  281  h  September,  1488  ;  but 
according  to  his  original  papers  preserved  in  the  li- 
brary of  the  cathedral  of  Seville,  and  which  were  ex- 
amined by  Don  Diego  Ortiz  de  Zuniga,  historian  of 
that  city,  it  would  appear  to  have  been  on  the  2gth  of 
August,  1487.  His  mother,  Doua  Beatrix  Enriquez, 
was  of  a  respectable  family,  but  was  never  married  to 
the  admiral,  as  has  been  stated  by  some  of  his  biog- 
raphers. 

Early  in  1494  Fernando  was  carried  to  court,  to- 
gether with  his  elder  brother  Diego,  by  his  uncle  Don 
Bartholomew,  to  enter  the  royal  household  in  quality 
of  page  to  the  Prince  Don  Juan,  son  and  heir  to  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella.  He  and  his  brother  remained  in 
this  situation  until  the  death  of  the  prince,  when  they 
were  taken  by  Queen  Isabella  as  pages  into  her  own 
service.  Their  education,  of  course,  was  well  at- 
tended to,  and  Fernando  in  after-life  gave  proofs  of 
being  a  learned  man. 

In  the  year  1502,  at  the  tender  age  of  thirteen  or 
fourteen  years,  Fernando  accompanied  his  father  in 
his  fourth  voyage  of  discovery,  and  encountered  all 
its  singular  and  varied  hardships  with  a  fortitude  that 
is  mentioned  with  praise  and  admiration  by  the  ad- 
miral. 

After  the  death  of  his  father  it  would  appear  that 
Fernando  made  two  voyages  to  the  New  World.  He 
accompanied  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  also,  to  Italy, 
Flanders,  and  Germany  ;  and  according  to  Zuniga 
(Anales  de  Seville  de  1539,  No.  3)  travelled  over  all 
Europe  and  a  part  of  Africa  and  Asia.  Possessing 
talents,  judgment,  and  industry,  these  opportunities 
were  not  lost  upon  him,  and  he  acquired  much  infor- 
mation in  geography,  navigation,  and  natural  history. 
Being  of  a  studious  habit,  and  fond  of  books,  he 
formed  a  select,  yet  copious  library,  of  more  than 
twenty  thousand  volumes,  in  print  and  in  manuscript. 
With  the  sanction  cf  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  he 


*  Charlevoix,  Hist.  St.  Domingo,  torn.  i.  lib.  vi.  p.  447. 
t  Bossi,  Dissertation  on  the  Country  of  Columbus, 
t  Spotorno,  p.  127. 


undertook  to  establish  an  academy  and  college  of 
mathematics  at  Seville  ;  and  for  this  purpose  com- 
menced the  construction  of  a  sumptuous  edifice,  with- 
out the  walls  of  the  city,  facing  the  Guadalquiver,  in 
the  place  where  the  monastery  of  San  Laureano  is 
now  situated.  His  constitution,  however,  had  been 
broken  by  the  sufferings  he  had  experienced  in  his 
travels  and  voyages,  and  a  premature  death  prevented 
the  completion  of  his  plan  of  the  academy,  and  broke 
off  other  useful  labors.  He  died  in  Seville  on  the  i2th 
of  July,  1539,  at  lhe  age,  according  to  his  epitaph,  of 
fifty  years,  nine  months,  and  fourteen  days.  He  left 
no  issue,  and  was  never  married.  His  body  was  in- 
terred according  to  his  request,  in  the  cathedral  of 
Seville.  He  bequeathed  his  valuable  library  to  the 
same  establishment. 

Don  Fernando  devoted  himself  much  to  letters.  Ac- 
cording to  the  inscription  on  his  tomb,  he  composed  a 
work  in  four  books,  or  volumes,  the  title  of  which  is 
defaced  on  the  monument,  and  the  work  itself  is  lost. 
This  is  much  to  be  regretted,  as,  according  to  Zuniga, 
the  fragments  of  the  inscription  specify  it  to  have 
contained,  among  a  variety  of  matter,  historical, 
moral,  and  geographical  notices  of  the  countries  he 
had  visited,  but  especially  of  the  New  World,  and  of 
the  voyages  and  discoveries  of  his  father. 

His  most  important  and  permanent  work,  however, 
was  a  history  of  the  admiral,  composed  in  Spanish.  It 
was  translated  into  Italian  by  Alonzo  de  Ulloa,  and 
from  this  Italian  translation  have  proceeded  the  edi- 
tions which  have  since  appeared  in  various  languages. 
It  is  singular  that  the  work  only  exists  in  Spanish,  in 
the  form  of  a  re-translation  from  that  of  Ulloa,  and 
full  of  errors  in  the  orthography  of  proper  names,  and 
in  dates  and  distances. 

Don  Fernando  was  an  eye-witness  of  some  of  the 
facts  which  he  relates,  particularly  of  the  fourth  voy- 
age wherein  he  accompanied  his  father.  He  had  also 
the  papers  and  charts  of  his  father,  and  recent  docu- 
ments of  all  kinds  to  extract  from,  as  well  as  familiar 
acquaintance  with  the  principal  personages  who  were 
concerned  in  the  events  which  he  records.  He  was  a 
man  of  probity  and  discernment,  and  writes  more  dis- 
passionately than  could  be  expected,  when  treating  of 
matters  which  affected  the  honor,  the  interests,  and 
happiness  of  his  father.  It  is  to  be  regretted,  how- 
ever, that  he  should  have  suffered  the  whole  of  his 
father's  life,  previous  to  his  discoveries  (a  period  of 
about  fifty-six  years),  to  remain  in  obscurity.  He  ap- 
pears to  have  wished  to  cast  a  cloud  over  it,  and  only 
to  have  presented  his  father  to  the  reader  after  he  had 
rendered  himself  illustrious  by  his  actions,  and  his 
history  had  become  in  a  manner  identified  with  the 
history  of  the  world.  His  work,  however,  is  an  in- 
valuable document,  entitled  to  great  faith,  and  is  the 
corner-stone  of  the  history  of  the  American  Continent. 


Galley,  from  the  tomb  of  Fernando  Columbus,  at  Seville. 


No.  IV. 

AGE   OF   COLUMBUS. 

As  the  date  I  have  assigned  for  the  birth  of  Colum- 
bus makes  him  about  ten  years  older  than  he  is  gen- 
erally represented,  at  the  time  of  his  discoveries,  it  is 


APPENDIX. 


proper  to  state  precisely  my  authority.  In  the  val- 
uable manuscript  chronicle  of  the  reign  of  the  Catholic 
sovereigns,  written  by  Andres  Bernaldes,  the  curate 
of  Los  Palacios,  there  is  a  long  tract  on  the  subject  of 
the  discoveries  of  Columbus  ;  it  concludes  with  these 
words  :  Afurio  en  I'alladolid,  el  ano  tie  1506,  en  el  mes 
tlf  Afayo,  in  scnectute  bona,  de  edad  70  ano s,  poco  mas  d 
mews.  (He  died  in  Valladolid  in  the  year  1506,  in 
the  month  of  May,  in  a  good  old  age,  being  seventy 
years  old,  a  little  more  or  less.)  The  curate  of  Los 
Palacios  was  a  contemporary,  and  an  intimate  friend 
of  Columbus,  who  was  occasionally  a  guest  in  his 
house  ;  no  one  was  more  competent,  therefore,  to 
form  a  correct  idea  of  his  age.  It  is  singular  that, 
while  the  biographers  of  Columbus  have  been  seeking 
to  establish  the  epoch  of  his  birth  by  various  calcula- 
tions and  conjectures,  this  direct  testimony  of  honest 
Andres  Bernaldes  has  entirely  escaped  their  notice, 
though  some  of  them  had  his  manuscript  in  their 
hands.  It  was  first  observed  by  my  accurate  friend 
Don  Antonio  Uguina  in  the  course  of  his  exact  inves- 
tigations, and  has  been  pointed  out  and  ably  supported 
by  Don  Martin  Fernandez  de  Navarrete,  in  the  intro- 
duction to  his  valuable  collection  of  voyages. 

Various  circumstances  in  the  life  of  Columbus  will 
be  found  to  corroborate  the  statement  of  the  curate  ; 
such,  for  example,  as  the  increasing  infirmities  with 
\vhich  he  struggled  during  his  voyages,  and  which  at 
last  rendered  him  a  cripple  and  confined  him  to  his 
bed.  The  allusion  to  his  advanced  age  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  the  sovereigns,  wherein  he  relates  the  con-, 
solation  he  had  received  from  a  secret  voice  in  the 
night  season  :  Tzt  vejez  no  impedira  a  toda  cosa 
grand:.  Abrahan  pasaba  den  aiios  cuatido  engendro  a 
Jsaac,  etc.  (Thy  old  age  shall  be  no  impediment  to 
any  great  undertaking.  Abraham  was  above  a  hun- 
dred years  old,  when  he  begat  Isaac,  etc.)  The  per- 
mission granted  him  by  the  king  the  year  previous  to 
his  death  to  travel  on  a  mule,  instead  of  a  horse,  on 
account  of  his  age  and  infirmities  ;  and  the  assertion 
of  Oviedo,  that  at  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  quite 
old  (era  ya  vitjo). 

This  fact  of  the  advanced  age  of  Columbus  throws 
quite  a  new  coloring  over  his  character  and  history. 
How  much  more  extraordinary  is  the  ardent  enthusiasm 
which  sustained  him  through  his  long  career  of  solici- 
tation, and  the  noble  pride  with  which  he  refused 
to  descend  from  his  dignified  demands,  and  to  bargain 
about  his  proposition,  though  life  was  rapidly  wast- 
ing in  delays.  How  much  more  extraordinary  is  the 
hardihood  with  which  he  undertook  repeated  voy- 
ages into  unknown  seas,  amid  all  kinds  of  perils  and 
hardships  ;  the  fortitude  with  which  he  bore  up 
against  an  accumulation  of  mental  and  bodily  afflic- 
tions, enough  to  have  disheartened  and  destroyed  the 
most  youthful  and  robust,  and  the  irrepressible  buoy- 
ancy of  spirit  with  which  to  the  last  he  still  rose  from 
under  the  ruined  concerns  and  disappointed  hopes 
and  blasted  projects  of  one  enterprise,  to  launch  into 
another,  still  more  difficult  and  perilous. 

We  have  been  accustomed  to  admire  all  these  things 
in  Columbus  when  we  considered  him  in  the  full 
vigor  of  his  life  ;  how  much  more  are  they  entitled  to 
our  wonder  as  the  achievements  of  a  man  whom  the 
weight  of  years  and  infirmities  was  pressing  into  the 
grave. 


No.  V. 

LINEAGE   OF   COLUMBUS. 

THE  ancestry  of  Christopher  Columbus  has  formed 
a  point  of  zealous  controversy,  which  is  not  yet  satis- 
factorily settled.  Several  honorable  families,  possess- 
ing domains  in  Placentia,  Montferrat,  and  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  Genoese  territories,  claim  him  as  be- 
longing to  their  houses  ;  and  to  these  has  recently 
been  added  the  noble  family  of  Colombo  in  Modena.* 


*  Spotorno,  Hist.  Mem.,  p.  5. 


The  natural  desire  to  prove  consanguinity  with  a  man 
of  distinguished  renown  has  excited  this  rivalry  ;  but 
it  has  been  heightened,  in  particular  instances,  by  the 
hope  of  succeeding  to  titles  and  situations  of  wealth 
and  honor,  when  his  male  line  of  descendants  became 
extinct.  The  investigation  is  involved  in  particular 
obscurity,  as  even  his  immediate  relatives  appear  to 
have  been  in  ignorance  on  the  subject. 

Fernando  Columbus  in  his  biography  of  the  admiral, 
after  a  pompous  prelude,  in  which  he  attempts  to 
throw  a  vague  and  cloudy  magnificence  about  the 
origin  of  his  father,  notices  slightly  the  attempts  of 
some  to  obscure  his  fame,  by  making  him  a  mlive  of 
various  small  and  insignificant  villages  ;  and  dwells 
with  more  complacency  upon  others  who  make  him  a 
nalive  of  places  in  which  there  were  persons  of  much 
honor  of  the  name,  and  many  sepulchral  monuments 
with  arms  and  epitaphs  of  the  Colombos.  He  relates 
his  having  himself  gone  to  the  castle  of  Cucureo,  to 
visit  his  two  brothers  of  the  family  of  Colombo,  who 
were  rich  and  noble,  the  youngest  of  whom  was 
above  one  hundred  years  of  age,  and  who  he  had 
heard  were  relatives  of  his  father  ;  but  they  could  give 
him  no  information  upon  the  subject  ;  whereupon  he 
breaks  forth  into  his  professed  contempt  for  these  ad- 
ventitious claims,  declaring,  that  he  thinks  it  better  to 
content  himself  with  dating  from  the  glory  of  the  ad- 
miral, than  to  go  about  inquiring  whether  his  father 
"  were  a  merchant,  or  one  who  kept  his  hawks  ;"* 
since,  adds  he,  of  persons  of  similar  pursuits,  there 
are  thousands  who  die  every  day,  whose  memory, 
even  among  their  own  neighbors  and  relatives,  per- 
ishes immediately,  without  its  being  possible  afterward 
to  ascertain  even  whether  they  existed. 

After  this,  and  a  few  more  expressions  of  similar 
disdain  for  these  empty  distinctions,  he  indulges  in 
vehement  abuse  of  Agostino  Guistiniani,  whom  he 
calls  a  false  historian,  an  inconsiderate,  partial,  or  ma- 
lignant compatriot,  for  having,  in  his  psalter,  traduced 
his  father,  by  saying,  that  in  his  youth  he  had  been 
employed  in  mechanical  occupations. 

As,  after  all  this  discussion,  Fernando  leaves  the 
question  of  his  father's  parentage  in  all  its  original 
obscurity,  yet  appears  irritably  sensitive  to  any  derog- 
atory suggestions  of  others,  his  whole  evidence  tends 
to  the  conviction  that  he  really  knew  nothing  to 
boast  of  in  his  ancestry. 

Of  the  nobility  and  antiquity  of  the  Colombo  family, 
of  which  the  admiral  probably  was  a  remote  descendant, 
we  have  some  account  in  Herrera.  "  We  learn,"  he 
says.  "  that  the  Emperor  Otto  the  Second,  in  940,  con- 
firmed to  the  counts  Pietro,  Giovanni,  and  Alexandro 
Colombo,  brothers,  the  feudatory  possessions  which 
they  held  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  cities  of  Ayqui, 
Savona,  Aste,  Montferrato,  Turin,  Viceli,  Parma, 
Cremona,  and  Bergamo,  and  all  others  which  they 
held  in  Italy.  It  appears  that  the  Colombos  of  Cuc- 
caro,  Cucureo,  and  Placentia  were  the  same,  and  that 
the  emperor  in  the  same  year,  940,  made  donation  to 
the  said  three  brothers  of  the  castles  of  Cuccaro,  Con- 
zano,  Rosignano,  and  others,  and  of  the  fourth  part 
of  Bistanio,  which  appertained  to  the  empire. f 

One  of  the  boldest  attempts  of  those  biographers 
bent  on  ennobling  Columbus,  has  been  to  make  him 
son  of  the  Lord  of  Cuccaro,  a  burgh  of  Montferrat,  in 
Piedmont,  and  to  prove  that  he  was  born  in  his 
father's  castle  at  that  place  ;  whence  he  and  his 
brothers  eloped  at  an  early  age,  and  never  returned. 
This  was  asserted  in  the  course  of  a  process  brought 
by  a  certain  Baldasser  or  Balthazar  Colombo,  resident 
in  Genoa,  but  originally  of  Cuccaro,  claiming  the  title 
and  estates,  on  the  death  of  Diego  Colon,  Duke  of 
Veragua,  in  1578,  the  great-grandson  and  last  legiti- 
mate male  descendant  of  the  admiral.  The  council  of 
the  Indies  decided  against  this  claim  to  relationship. 


*  Literally,  in  the  original,  Cazador  de  1'olatcria,  a  Fal- 
coner. Hawking  was  in  those  days  an  amusement  of  the 
highest  classes;  and  to  keep  hawk's  was  almost  a  sign  of 
nobility. 

t  Herrera,  decad.  i.  lib.  i.  cap.  7. 


APPENDIX. 


243 


Some  account  of  the  lawsuit  will  be  found  in  another 
part  of  the  work. 

This  romantic  story,  like  all  others  of  the  nobility 
of  his  parentage,  is  at  utter  variance  with  the  subse- 
quent events  of  his  life,  his  long  struggles  with  indi- 
gence and  obscurity,  and  the  difficulties  he  endured 
Irom  the  want  of  family  connections.  How  can  it  be 
believed,  says  Bossi,  that  this  same  man,  who,  in  his 
most  cruel  adversities,  was  incessantly  taunted  by  his 
enemies  with  the  obscurity  of  his  birth,  should  not  re- 
ply to  this  reproach,  by  declaring  his  origin,  if  he  were 
really  descended  from  the  Lords  of  Cuccaro,  Conzano, 
and  Rosignano  ?  a  circumstance  which  would  have 
obtained  him  the  highest  credit  with  the  Spanish  no- 
bility.* 

The  different  families  of  Colombo  which  lay  claim 
to  the  great  navigator  seem  to  be  various  branches  of 
one  tree,  and  there  is  little  doubt  of  his  appertaining 
remotely  to  the  same  respectable  stock. 

It  appears  evident,  however,  that  Columbus  sprang 
immediately  from  a  line  of  humble  but  industrious 
citizens,  which  had  existed  in  Genoa,  even  from  the 
time  of  Giacomo  Colombo  the  wool-carder,  in  1311, 
mentioned  by  Spotorno  ;  nor  is  this  in  any  wise  incom- 
patible with  the  intimation  of  Fernando  Columbus, 
that  the  family  had  been  reduced  from  high  estate  to 
great  poverty,  by  the  wars  of  Lombardy.  The  feuds 
of  Italy,  in  those  ages,  had  broken  down  and  scat- 
tered many  of  the  noblest  families  ;  and  whHe  some 
branches  remained  in  the  lordly  heritage  of  castles 
and  domains,  others  were  confounded  with  the  hum- 
blest population  of  the  cities. 


No.  VI. 

BIRTHPLACE   OF   COLUMBUS. 

THERE  has  been  much  controversy  about  the  birth 
place  of  Columbus.  The  greatness  of  his  renown  has 
induced  various  places  to  lay  claim  to  him  as  a  native, 
and  from  motives  of  laudable  pride,  for  nothing  re- 
flects greater  lustre  upon  a  city  than  to  have  given 
birth  to  distinguished  men.  The  original  and  long- 
established  opinion  was  in  favor  of  Genoa  ;  but  such 
strenuous  claims  were  asserted  by  the  states  of  Pla- 
centia,  and  in  particular  of  Piedmont,  that  the  Acad- 
emy of  Sciences  and  Letters  of  Genoa  was  induced, 
in  1812,  to  nominate  three  of  its  members,  Signers 
Serra,  Carrega,  and  Piaggio,  commissioners  to  exam- 
ine into  these  pretensions. 

The  claims  of  Placentia  had  been  first  advanced  in 
1662,  by  Pietro  Maria  Campi,  in  the  ecclesiastical  his- 
tory of  that  place,  who  maintained  that  Columbus 
was  a  native  of  the  village  of  Pradello.in  that  vicinity. 
It  appeared  probable,  on  investigation,  that  Bertolino 
Colombo,  great-grandfather  to  the  admiral,  had  owned 
a  small  property  in  Pradello,  the  rent  of  which  had 
been  received  by  Domenico  Colombo  of  Genoa,  and 
after  his  death  by  his  sons  Christopher  and  Bartholo- 
mew. Admitting  this  assertion  to  be  correct,  there 
was  no  proof  that  either  the  admiral,  his  father,  or 
grandfather  had  ever  resided  on  that  estate.  The  very 
circumstances  of  the  case  indicated,  on  the  contrary, 
that  their  home  was  in  Genoa. 

The  claim  of  Piedmont  was  maintained  with  more 
plausibility.  It  was  shown  that  a  Domenico  Colombo 
was  lord  of  the  castle  of  Cuccaro  in  Montferrat,  at  the 
time  of  the  birth  of  Christopher  Columbus,  who,  it 
was  asserted,  was  his  son,  and  born  in  his  castle. 
Balthazar  Colombo,  a  descendant  of  this  person,  in- 
stituted a  lawsuit  before  the  Council  of  the  Indies  for 
the  inheritance  ot  the  admiral,  when  his  male  line  be- 
came extinct.  The  Council  of  the  Indies  decided 
against  him,  as  is  shown  in  an  account  of  that  process 
given  among  the  illustrations  of  this  history.  It  was 
proved  that  Domenico  Colombo,  father  of  the  admiral, 
was  resident  in  Genoa  both  before  and  many  years 
after  the  death  of  this  lord  of  Cuccaro,  who  bore  the 
same  name. 


*Dissertation,  etc. 


The  three  commissioners  appointed  by  the  Academy 
of  Science  and  Letters  of  Genoa  to  examine  into  these 
pretensions,  after  a  long  and  diligent  investigation, 
gave  a  voluminous  and  circumstantial  report  in  favor 
of  Genoa.  An  ample  digest  of  their  inquest  may  be 
found  in  the  History  of  Columbus  by  Signer  Bossi, 
who,  in  an  able  dissertation  on  the  question,  con- 
firms their  opinion.  It  may  be  added,  in  further  cor- 
roboration,  that  Peter  Martyr  and  Bartholomew  Las 
Casas,  who  were  contemporaries  and  acquaintances  of 
Columbus,  and  Juan  de  Barros,  the  Portuguese  his- 
torian, all  make  Columbus  a  native  of  the  Genoese 
territories. 

There  has  been  a  question  fruitful  of  discussion 
among  the  Genoese  themselves,  whether  Columbus 
was  born  in  the  city  of  Genoa,  or  in  some  other  part 
of  the  territory.  Finale,  and  Oneglia,  and  Savona, 
towns  on  the  Ligurian  coast  to  the  west,  Boggiasco, 
Cogoleto,  and  several  other  towns  and  villages,  claim 
him  as  their  own.  His  family  possessed  a  small 
property  at  a  village  or  hamlet  between  Quinto  and 
Nervi,  called  Terra  Rossa  ;  in  Latin,  Terra  Rubra  ; 
which  has  induced  some  writers  to  assign  his  birth  to 
one  of  those  places.  Bossi  says  that  there  is  still  a 
tower  between  Quinto  and  Nervi  which  bears  the  title 
of  Torre  dei  Colombi.*  Bartholomew  Columbus, 
brother  to  the  admiral,  styled  himself  of  Terra  Rubra, 
in  a  Latin  inscription  on  a  map  which  he  presented  to 
Henry  VII.  of  England,  and  Fernando  Columbus 
states,  in  his  history  of  the  admiral,  that  he  was  ac- 
customed to  subscribe  himself  in  the  same  manner  be- 
fore he  attained  to  his  dignities. 

Cogoleto  at  one  time  bore  away  the  palm.  The  fam- 
ilies there  claim  the  discoverer,  and  preserve  a  portrait 
of  him.  One  or  both  of  the  two  admirals  named  Co- 
lombo, with  whom  he  sailed,  are  stated  to  have  come 
from  that  place,  and  to  have  been  confounded  with 
him  so  as  to  have  given  support  to  this  idea.f 

Savona,  a  city  in  the  Genoese  territories,  has 
claimed  the  same  honor,  and  this  claim  has  recently 
been  very  strongly  brought  forward.  Signor  Giovanni 
Battista  Belloro,  an  advocate  of  Savona,  has  stren- 
uously maintained  this  claim  in  an  ingenious  disputa- 
tion, dated  May  I2th,  1826,  in  form  of  a  letter  to 
the  Baron  du  Zach,  editor  of  a  valuable  astronomical 
and  geographical  journal,  published  monthly  at  Ge- 
noa. \ 

Signor  Belloro  claims  it  as  an  admitted  fact,  that 
Domenico  Colombo  was  for  many  years  a  resident  and 
citizen  of  Savona,  in  which  place  one  Christopher 
Columbus  is  shown  to  have  signed  a  document  in 
1472. 

He  states  that  a  public  square  in  that  city  bore  the 
name  of  Platea  Columbi,  toward  the  end  of  the  i.|th 
century  ;  that  the  Ligurian  government  gave  the  name 
of  Jurisdizione  di  Colombi  to  that  district  of  the  re- 
public, under  the  persuasion  that  the  great  navigator 
was  a  native  of  Savona,  and  that  Columbus  gave  the 
name  of  Saona  to  a  little  island  adjacent  to  Hispani- 
ola.  among  his  earliest  discoveries. 

He  quotes  many  Savonese  writers,  principally 
poets,  and  various  historians  and  poets  of  other  coun- 
tries, and  thus  establishes  the  point  that  Columbus 
was  held  to  be  a  native  of  Savona  by  persons  of  re- 
spectable authority.  He  lays  particular  stress  on  the 
testimony  of  the  Magnifico  Francisco  Spinola,  as  re- 
lated  by  the  learned  prelate  Felippo  Alberto  Pollero, 
stating  that  he  had  seen  the  sepulchre  of  Christopher 
Columbus  in  the  cathedral  at  Seville,  and  that  the  epi- 
taph states  him  expressly  to  be  a  native  of  Savona  : 
"  Hie  jacet  Christophorus  Columbus  Savonensis."§ 

The  proofs  advanced  by  Signor  Belloro  show  his 
zeal  for  the  honor  of  his  native  city,  but  do  not  au- 


*  Bossi.     French  Translation,  Paris,  1824,  p.  69. 

t  Ibid. 

I  Correspondence  Astronom.  Geograph.  etc.  de  Baron 
du  Zach,  vol.  14,  cahier  6,  lettera  29.  1826. 

$  Felippo  Alberto  Pollero,  Epicherema,  cioe  breve  dis- 
corso  per  difesa  di  sua  persona  e  carrattere.  Torino,  per 
Gio  Battista  Zappata.  MCDXCVI.  (read  1696)  in  4°.  pag. 
47- 


244 


APPENDIX. 


thenticate  the  fact  he  undertakes  to  establish.  He 
shows  clearly  that  many  respectable  writers  believed 
Columbus  to  be  a  native  of  Savona  ;  but  a  far  greater 
number  can  be  adduced,  and  many  of  them  contem- 
porary with  the  admiral,  some  of  them  his  intimate 
friends,  others  his  fellow-citizens,  who  state  him  to 
have  been  born  in  the  city  of  Genoa.  Among  the 
S  ivonese  writers,  Giulio  Salinorio,  who  investigated 
the  subject,  comes  expressly  to  the  same  conclusion  : 
"Genova,  citld  nobilissima,  era,  la  patria  de  Colombo." 

Signor  Belloro  appears  to  be  correct  in  stating  that 
Domenico,  the  father  of  the  admiral,  was  several 
years  resident  in  Savona.  But  it  appears  from  his  own 
dissertation,  that  the  Christopher  who  witnessed  the 
testament  in  1472,  styled  himself  of  Genoa  :  "  Christo- 
pkorus  Cohimbtts  lanerius  de  Janua."  This  incident 
is  stated  by  other  writers,  who  presume  this  Chris- 
topher to  have  been  the  navigator  on  a  visit  to  his 
father,  in  the  interval  of  his  early  voyages.  In  as  far 
as  the  circumstance  bears  on  the  point,  it  supports  the 
idea  that  he  was  born  at  Genoa. 

The  epitaph,  on  which  Signor  Belloro  places  his 
principal  reliance,  entirely  fails.  Christopher  Colum- 
bus was  not  interred  in  the  cathedral  of  Seville,  nor 
was  any  monument  erected  to  him  in  that  edifice. 
The  tomb  to  which  the  learned  prelate  Felippo  Alberto 
Pollero  alludes  may  have  been  that  of  Fernando 
Columbus,  son  to  the  admiral,  who,  as  has  been  al- 
ready observed,  was  buried  in  the  cathedral  of  Seville, 
to  which  he  bequeathed  his  noble  library.  The  place 
of  his  sepulture  is  designated  by  a  broad  slab  of  white 
marble,  inserted  in  the  pavement,  with  an  inscription, 
partly  in  Spanish,  partly  in  Latin,  recording  the  merits 
of  Fernando  and  the  achievements  of  his  father.  On 
either  side  of  the  epitaph  is  engraved  an  ancient  Span- 
ish Galley.  The  inscription  quoted  by  Signor  Belloro 
may  have  been  erroneously  written  from  memory  by 
the  Magnifico  Francisco  Spinola,  under  the  mistaken 
idea  that  he  had  beheld  the  sepulchre  of  the  great  dis- 
coverer. As  Fernando  was  born  at  Cordova,  the  term 
Savonensis  must  have  been  another  error  of  memory 
in  the  Magnifico  ;  no  such  word  is  to  be  found  in  the 
inscription. 

This  question  of  birthplace  has  also  been  investi- 
gated with  considerable  minuteness,  and  a  decision 
given  in  favor  of  Genoa,  by  D.  Gio  Battista  Spotorno, 
of  the  royal  university  in  that  city,  in  his  historical 
memoir  of  Columbus.  He  shows  that  the  family  of 
the  Columbi  had  long  been  resident  in  Genoa.  By  an 
extract  from  the  notarial  register,  it  appeared  that  one 
Giacomo  Colombo,  a  wool  carder,  resided  without  the 
gate  of  St.  Andria,  in  the  year  1311.  An  agreement, 
also,  published  by  the  academy  of  Genoa,  proved,  that 
in  1489,  Domenico  Colombo  possessed  a  house  and 
shop,  and  a  garden  with  a  well,  in  the  street  of  St. 
Andrew's  gate,  anciently  without  the  walls,  presumed 
to  have  been  the  same  residence  with  that  of  Giacomo 
Colombo.  He  rented  also  another  house  from  the 
monks  of  St.  Stephen,  in  the  Via  Mulcento,  leading 
from  the  street  of  St.  Andrew  to  the  Strada  Giulia.* 

Signor  Bossi  states,  that  documents  lately  found  in 
the  archives  of  the  monastery  of  St.  Stephen,  present 
the  name  of  Domenico  Colombo  several  times,  from 
1456  to  1459,  and  designate  him  as  son  of  Giovanni 
Colombo,  husband  of  Susanna  Fontanarossa.and  father 
of  Christopher,  Bartholomew,  and  Giacomo, f  (or 
Diego).  He  states  also  that  the  receipts  of  the  canons 
show  that  the  last  payment  of  rent  was  made  by  Do- 
menico Colombo  for  his  dwelling  in  1489.  He  sur- 
mises that  the  admiral  was  born  in  the  before-men- 
tioned house  belonging  to  those  monks,  in  Via  Mul- 
cento, and  that  he  was  baptized  in  the  church  of  St. 
Stephen.  He  adds  that  an  ancient  manuscript  was 
submitted  to  the  commissioners  of  the  Genoese  acad- 
emy, in  the  margin  of  which  the  notary  had  stated 
that  the  name  of  Christopher  was  on  the  register  of 
the  parish  as  having  been  baptized  in  that  church.f 


*  Spotorno,  Eng.  trans,  p.  xi.  xii, 
t  Bossi,  French  trans,  p.  76. 
t  Ibid.,  p.  88. 


Andres  Bernaldez,  the  curate  of  los  Palacios,  who 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  Columbus,  says  that  he  was 
of  Genoa.*  Agostino  Giustiniani,  a  contemporary 
of  Columbus,  likewise  asserts  it  in  his  Polyglot  Psal- 
ter, published  in  Genoa,  in  1516.  Antonio  de  Herrera, 
an  author  of  great  accuracy,  who,  though  not  a  con- 
temporary, had  access  to  the  best  documents,  asserts 
decidedly  that  he  was  born  in  the  city  of  Genoa. 

To  these  names  may  be  added  that  of  Alexander 
Geraldini,  brother  to  the  nuncio,  and  instructor  to  the 
children  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  a  most  intimate 
friend  of  Columbus. t  Also  Antonio  Gallo,}  Bartolo- 
meo  Senarega,§  and  Uberto  Foglieta,|  all  contempo- 
raries with  the  admiral,  and  natives  of  Genoa,  to- 
gether with  an  anonymous  writer,  who  published  an 
account  of  his  voyage  of  discovery  at  Venice  in  I5og.*[ 
It  is  unnec  ssary  to  mention  historians  of  later  date 
agreeing  in  the  same  fact,  as  they  must  have  derived 
their  information  from  some  of  these  authorities. 

The  question  in  regard  to  the  birthplace  of  Colum- 
bus has  been  treated  thus  minutely,  because  it  has 
been,  and  still  continues  to  be,  a  point  of  warm  con- 
troversy. It  may  be  considered,  however,  as  conclu- 
sively decided  by  the  highest  authority,  the  evidence 
of  Columbus  himself.  In  a  testament  executed  in 
1498,  which  has  been  admitted  in  evidence  before  the 
Spanish  tribunals  in  certain  lawsuits  among  his  de- 
scendants, he  twice  declares  that  he  was  a  native  of 
the  city*  of  Genoa  :  "  Siendo  yo  narido  en  Genora." 
"  I  being  born  in  Genoa. >!  And  again,  he  repeats  the 
assertion,  as  a  reason  for  enjoining  certain  conditions 
on  his  heirs,  which  manifest  the  interest  he  takes  in 
his  native  place.  "  I  command  the  said  Diego,  my 
son,  or  the  person  who  inherits  the  said  mayorazgo 
(or  entailed  estate),  that  he  maintain  always  in  the 
city  of  Genoa  a  person  of  our  lineage,  who  shall  have 
a  house  and  a  wife  there,  and  to  furnish  him  with  an 
income  on  which  he  can  live  decently,  as  a  person 
connected  with  our  family,  and  hold  footing  and  root 
in  that  city  as  a  native  of  it,  so  that  he  may  have  aid 
and  favor  in  that  city  in  case  of  need,  for  from  thence 
I  came  and  there  was  bom."** 

In  another  part  of  his  testament  he  expresses  him- 
self with  a  filial  fondness  in  respect  to  Genoa.  "  I 
ommand  the  said  Don  Diego,  or  whoever  shall  pos- 
sess the  said  mayorazgo,  that  he  labor  and  strive  al- 
ways for  the  honor,  and  welfare,  and  increase  of  the 
city  of  Genoa,  and  employ  all  his  abilities  and  means 
in  defending  and  augmenting  the  welfare  and  honor 
of  her  republic,  in  all  matters  which  are  not  contrary 
to  the  service  of  the  church  of  God,  and  the  state  of 
the  king  and  queen  our  sovereigns,  and  their  succes- 
sors." 

An  informal  codicil,  executed  by  Columbus  at  Valla- 
dolid,  May  4th,  1506,  sixteen  days  before  his  death, 
was  discovered  about  1785,  in  the  Corsini  library  at  - 
Rome.  It  is  termed  a  military  codicil,  from  being 
made  in  the  manner  which  the  civil  law  ullows  to  the 
soldier  who  executes  such  an  instrument  on  the  eve  of 
battle,  or  in  expectation  of  death.  It  was  written  on 
the  blank  page  of  a  little  breviary  presented  to  Colum- 
bus by  Pope  Alexander  VII.  Columbus  leaves  the 
book  "  to  his  beloved  country,  the  Republic  of  Ge- 
noa." 

He  directs  the  erection  of  a  hospital  in  that  city  for 
the  poor,  with  provision  for  its  support  ;  and  he  de-  . 


*  Cura  tie  los  Palacios,  MS.  cap.  118. 

t  Alex.  Geraldini,  Itin.  ad.  Reg.  sub.  Aquinor. 

j  Antonio  Gallo,  Anales  of  Genoa,  Muratori,  torn.  23. 

§  Senaregi,  Muratori,  torn.  24. 

]|  Foglieta,  Elog.  Clar.  Ligur. 

1  Grineus,  Nov.  Orb. 

**  "  Item.  Mandoel  dicho  Don  Diego  mi  hijo,  a  la  persona 
que  heredare  el  dicho  mayorazgo,  queV nga  y  sostenga  siem- 
pre  en  la  ciudad  de  Genova  una  persona  de  nuestro  linage 
que  tenga  alii  casa  6  muger,  6  le  ordene  renta  con  que 
pueda  vivir  honestamente,  como  persona  tan  llegada  a 
nuestro  linage,  y  haga  pie  y  raiz  en  la  dicha  ciudad  como 
natural  delta,  porque  podra  haber  de  la  dicha  ciudad  avtida 
e  favor  en  las  cosas  del  menester  suyo,  pues  que  della  sail  y 
en  ella  naci. 


APPENDIX. 


245 


clares  that  republic  his  successor  in  the  admiralty  of 
the  Indies,  in  the  event  of  his  male  line  becoming  ex 
tinct. 

The  authenticity  of  this  paper  has  been  questioned. 
It  has  been  said,  that  there  was  no  probability  of  Co- 
lumbus having  resort  to  a  usage  with  which  he  was 
most  likely,  unacquainted.  The  objections  are  not 
cogent.  Columbus  was  accustomed  to  the  peculiari- 
ties of  a  military  life,  and  he  repeatedly  wrote  letters 
in  critical  moments  as  a  precaution  against  some  fatal 
occurrence  that  seemed  to  impend.  The  present  codi- 
cil, from  its  date,  must  have  been  written  a  few  days 
previous  to  his  death,  perhaps  at  a  moment  when  he 
imagined  himself  at  extremity.  This  may  account  for 
any  difference  in  the  handwriting,  especially  as  he 
was,  at  times,  so  affected  by  the  gout  in  his  hands  as 
not  to  be  able  to  write  except  at  night.  Particular 
stress  has  been  laid  on  the  signature  ;  but  it  does  not 
appear  that  he  was  uniform  in  regard  to  that,  and  it  is 
a  point  to  which  any  one  who  attempted  a  forgery 
would  be  attentive.  It  does  not  appear,  likewise,  that 
any  advantage  could  have  been  obtained  by  forging 
the  paper,  or  that  any  such  was  attempted. 

In  1502,  when  Columbus  was  about  to  depart  on 
his  fourth  and  last  voyage,  he  wrote  to  his  friend, 
Doctor  Nicolo  Oderigo,  formerly  ambassador  from 
Genoa  to  Spain,  and  forwarded  to  him  copies  of  all 
his  grants  and  commissions  from  the  Spanish  sover- 
eigns, authenticated  before  the  alcaldes  of  Seville. 
He,  at  the  same  time,  wrote  to  the  bank  of  San  Gior- 
gio, at  Genoa,  assigning  a  tenth  of  his  revenues  to  be 
paid  to  that  city,  in  diminution  of  the  duties  on  corn, 
wine,  and  other  provisions. 

Why  should  Columbus  feel  this  strong  interest  in 
Genoa,  had  he  been  born  in  any  of  the  other  Italian 
states  which  have  laid  claim  to  him  ?  He  was  under 
no  obligation  to  Genoa.  He  had  resided  there  but  a 
brief  portion  of  his  early  life  ;  and  his  proposition  for 
discovery,  according  to  some  writers,  had  been  scorn- 
fully rejected  by  that  republic.  There  is  nothing  to 
warrant  so  strong  an  interest  in  Genoa  but  the  filial 
tie  which  links  the  heart  of  a  man  to  his  native  place, 
however  he  may  be  separated  from  it  by  time  or  dis- 
tance, and  however  little  he  may  be  indebted  to  it  for 
favors. 

Again,  had  Columbus  been  born  in  any  of  the  towns 
and  villages  of  the  Genoese  coast  which  have  claimed 
him  for  a  native,  why  should  he  have  made  these  be- 
quests in  favor  of  the  city  of  Genoa,  and  not  of  his 
native  town  or  village  ? 

These  bequests  were  evidently  dictated  by  a  mingled 
sentiment  of  pride  and  affection,  which  would  be 
withour  all  object  if  not  directed  to  his  native  place. 
He  was  at  this  time  elevated  above  all  petty  pride  on 
the  subject.  His  renown  was  so  brilliant,  that  it 
would  have  shed  a  lustre  on  any  hamlet,  however  ob- 
scure ;  and  the  strong  love  of  country  here  manifested 
would  never  have  felt  satisfied,  until  it  had  singled 
out  the  spot,  and  nestled  down  in  the  very  cradle  of 
his  infancy.  These  appear  to  be  powerful  reasons, 
drawn  from  natural  feeling,  for  deciding  in  favor  of 
Genoa. 


No.  VII. 

THE   COLOMBOS. 

DURING  the  early  part  of  the  life  of  Columbus  there 
were  two  other  navigators,  bearing  the  same  name, 
of  some  rank  and  celebrity,  with  whom  he  occasion- 
ally sailed  ;  their  names  occurring  vaguely  from  time 
to  time,  during  the  obscure  part  of  his  career,  have 
caused  much  perplexity  to  some  of  his  biographers, 
who  have  supposed  that  they  designated  the  discov- 
erer. Fernando  Columbus  affirms  them  to  have  been 
family  connections,*  and  his  father  says,  in  one  of 
his  letters,  "  I  am  not  the  first  admiral  of  our  family." 

These  two  were  uncle  and  nephew  :  the  latter  being 
termed  by  historians  Colombo  the  younger  (by  the 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  i. 


Spanish  historians  Colombo  el  mozo).  They  were  in 
the  Genoese  service,  but  are  mentioned,  occasionally, 
in  old  chronicles  as  French  commanders,  because 
Genoa,  during  a  great  part  of  their  time,  was  under 
the  protection,  or  rather  the  sovereignty  of  France, 
and  her  ships  and  captains,  being  engaged  in  the  ex- 
peditions of  that  power,  were  identified  with  the 
French  marine. 

Mention  is  made  of  the  elder  Colombo  in  ZuritaV 
Annals  of  Arragon  (L.  xix.  p.  261),  in  the  war  be- 
tween Spain  and  Portugal,  on  the  subject  of  the 
claim  of  the  Princess  Juana  to  the  crown  of  Castile. 
In  1476,  the  King  of  Portugal  determined  to  go  to  the 
Mediterranean  coast  of  France,  to  incite  his  ally, 
Louis  XI.,  to  prosecute  the  war  in  the  province  of 
Guipuzcoa. 

The  king  left  Toro,  says  Zurita,  on  the  I3th  June, 
and  went  by  the  river  to  the  city  of  Porto,  in  order  to 
await  the  armada  of  the  king  of  France,  the  captain 
of  which  was  Colon  (Colombo),  who  was  to  navigate 
by  the  straits  of  Gibraltar  to  pass  to  Marseilles. 

After  some  delays  Colombo  arrived  in  the  latter 
part  of  July  with  the  French  armada  at  Bermeo.  on 
the  coast  of  Biscay,  where  he  encountered  a  violent 
storm,  lost  his  principal  ship,  and  ran  to  the  coast  of 
Galicia,  with  an  intention  of  attacking  Ribaldo,  and 
lost  a  great  many  of  his  men.  Thence  he  went  to 
Lisbon  to  receive  the  King  of  Portugal,  who  em- 
barked in  the  fleet  in  August,  with  a  number  of  his 
noblemen,  and  look  two  thousand  two  hundred  foot 
soldiers,  and  four  hundred  and  seventy  horse,  to 
strengthen  the  Portuguese  garrisons  along  the  Bar- 
bary  coast.  There  were  in  the  squadron  twelve  ships 
and  five  caravels.  After  touching  at  Ceuta  the  fleet 
proceeded  to  Colibre,  where  the  king  disembarked  in 
the  middle  of  September,  the  weather  not  permitting 
them  to  proceed  to  Marseilles.  (Zurita,  L.  xix.  Ch. 
5I-) 

This  Colombo  is  evidently  the  naval  commander  of 
whom  the  following  mention  is  made  by  Jaques 
George  de  Chaufepie,  in  his  supplement  to  Bayle 
(vol.  2,  p.  126  of  letter  C). 

"  I  do  not  know  what  dependence,"  says  Chaufe- 
pie, "  is  to  be  placed  on  a  fact  repotted  in  the  Duca- 
tiana  (Part  i,  p.  143),  that  Columbus  was  in  1474 
captain  of  several  ships  for  Louis  XL.  and  that,  as  the 
Spaniards  had  made  at  that  time  an  irruption  into 
Roussillon,  he  thought  that,  for  reprisal,  and  without 
contravening  the  peace  between  the  two  crowns,  he 
could  run  down  Spanish  vessels.  He  attacked,  there 
fore,  and  took  two  galleys  of  that  nation,  freighted  on 
the  account  of  various  individuals.  On  complaints  of 
this  action  being  made  to  King  Ferdinand,  he  wrote 
on  the  subject  to  Louis  XI.  ;  his  letter  is  dated  the 
gth  December,  1474.  Ferdinand  terms  Christopher 
Columbus  a  subject  of  Louis  ;  it  was  because,  as  is 
known,  Columbus  was  a  Genoese,  and  Louis  was  sov- 
ereign of  Genoa  :  although  that  city  and  Savona  were 
held  of  him  in  fief  by  the  Duke  of  Milan." 

It  is  highly  probable  that  it  was  the  squadron  of  this 
same  Colombo  of  whom  the  circumstance  is  related 
by  Bossi,  and  after  him  by  Spotorno  on  the  authority 
of  a  letter  found  in  the  archives  of  Milan,  and  written 
in  1476  by  two  illustrious  Milanese  gentlemen,  on 
their  return  from  Jerusalem.  The  letter  states  that 
in  the  previous  year  1475,  as  the  Venetian  fleet  was 
stationed  off  Cyprus  to  guard  the  island,  a  Genoese 
squadron,  commanded  by  one  Colombo,  sailed  by 
them  with  an  air  of  defiance,  shouting  "  Viva  San  Gi- 
orgia  !"  As  the  republics  were  then  at  peace  they  were 
permitted  to  pass  unmolested. 

Bossi  supposes  that  the  Colombo  here  mentioned 
was  Christopher  Columbus  the  discoverer  ;  but  it  ap- 
pears rather  to  have  been  the  old  Genoese  admiral  of 
that  name,  who  according  to  Zurita  was  about  that 
time  cruising  in  the  Mediterranean  ;  and  who,  in  all 
probability,  was  the  hero  of  both  the  preceding  occur- 
rences. 

The  nephew  of  this  Colombo,  called  by  the  Spanish 
Colombo  el  mozo,  commanded  a  few  years  afterward 
a  squadron  in  the  French  service,  as  will  appear  in  a 


24G 


APPENDIX. 


subsequent  illustration,  and  Columbus  may  at  various 
times  have  held  an  inferior  command  under  both  uncle 
and  nephew,  and  been  present  on  the  above  cited  oc- 
casions. 


No.  VIII. 
EXPEDITION  OF  JOHN   OF   ANJOU. 

ABOUT  the  time  that  Columbus  attained  his  twenty- 
fourth  year,  his  native  city  was  in  a  state  of  great 
alarm  and  peril  from  the  threatened  invasion  of  Al- 
phonso  V.  of  Aragon,  King  of  Naples.  Finding  itself 
too  weak  to  contend  singly  with  such  a  foe,  and  hav- 
ing in  vain  looked  for  assistance  from  Italy,  it  placed 
itself  under  the  protection  of  Charles  the  Vllthof 
France.  That  monarch  sent  to  its  assistance  John  of 
Anjou,  son  of  Rene  or  Renato,  King  of  Naples,  who 
had  been  dispossessed  of  his  crown  by  Alphonso. 
John  of  Anjou,  otherwise  called  the  Duke  of  Cala- 
bria,* immediately  took  upon  himself  the  command 
of  the  place,  repaired  its  fortifications,  and  defended 
the  entrance  of  the  harbor  with  strong  chains.  In  the 
meantime,  Alphonso  had  prepared  a  large  land  force, 
and  assembled  an  armament  of  twenty  ships  and  ten 
galleys  at  Ancona,  on  the  frontiers  of  Genoa.  The 
situation  of  the  latter  was  considered  eminently  peril- 
ous, when  Alphonso  suddenly  fell  ill  of  a  calenture  and 
died,  leaving  the  kingdoms  of  Anjou  and  Sicily  to  his 
brother  John,  and  the  kingdom  of  Naples  to  his  son 
Ferdinand. 

The  death  of  Alphonso,  and  the  subsequent  divis- 
ion of  his  dominions,  while  they  relieved  the  fears  of 
the  Genoese,  gave  rise  to  new  hopes  on  the  part  of 
the  house  of  Anjou  ;  and  the  Duke  John,  encouraged 
by  emissaries  from  various  powerful  partisans  among 
the  Neapolitan  nobility,  determined  to  make  a  bold 
attempt  upon  Naples  for  the  recovery  of  the  crown. 
The  Genoese  entered  into  his  cause  with  spirit,  fur- 
nishing him  with  ships,  galleys,  and  money.  His 
lather,  Rene  or  Renato,  fitted  out  twelve  galleys  for 
the  expedition  in  the  harbor  of  Marseilles,  and  sent 
him  assurance  of  an  abundant  supply  of  money,  and 
of  the  assistance  of  the  King  of  France.  The  brilliant 
nature  of  the  enterprise  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
daring  and  restless  spirits  of  the  times.  The  chival- 
rous nobleman,  the  soldier  of  fortune,  the  hardy  cor- 
sair, the  bold  adventurer  or  the  military  partisan,  en- 
listed under  the  banners  of  the  Duke  of  Calabria.  It  is 
stated  by  historians  that  Columbus  served  in  the  ar- 
mament from  Genoa,  in  a  squadron  commanded  by 
one  of  the  Colombos,  his  relations. 

The  expedition  sailed  in  October,  1459,  and  arrived 
at  Sessa  between  the  mouths  of  the  Garigliano  and  the 
Volturno.  The  news  of  its  arrival  was  the  signal  of 
universal  revolt  ;  the  factious  barons,  and  their  vas- 
sals, hastened  to  join  the  standard  of  Anjou,  and  the 
duke  soon  saw  the  finest  provinces  of  the  Neapolitan 
dominions  at  his  command,  and  with  his  army  and 
squadron  menaced  the  city  of  Naples  itself. 

In  the  history  of  this  expedition  we  meet  with  one 
hazardous  action  of  the  fleet  in  which  Columbus  had 
embarked. 

The  army  of  John  of  Anjou  being  closely  invested 
by  a  superior  force,  was  in  a  perilous  predicament  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Sarno.  In  this  conjuncture,  the  cap- 
tain of  the  armada  landed  with  his  men,  and  scoured 
the  neighborhood,  hoping  to  awaken  in  the  populace 
their  former  enthusiasm  for  the  banner  of  Anjou, 
and  perhaps  to  take  Naples  by  surprise.  A  chosen 
company  of  Neapolitan  infantry  was  sent  against 
them.  The  troops  from  the  fleet  having  little  of  the 
discipline  of  regular  soldiery,  and  much  of  the  free- 
booting  disposition  of  maritime  rovers,  had  scattered 
themselves  about  the  country,  intent  chiefly  upon 
spoil.  They  were  attacked  by  the  infantry  and  put  to 
rout,  with  the  loss  of  many  killed  and  wounded.  En- 


*  Duke  of  Calabria  was  a  title  of  the  heir  apparent  to  the 
crown  of  Naples. 


deavoring  to  make  their  way  back  to  the  ships,  they 
found  the  passes  seized  and  blocked  up  by  the  people 
of  Sorento,  who  assailed  them  with  dreadful  havoc. 
Their  flight  now  became  desperate  and  headlong,  many 
threw  themselves  from  rocks  and  precipices  into  the 
sea,  and  but  a  small  portion  regained  the  ships. 

The  contest  of  John  of  Anjou  for  the  crown  of 
Naples  lasted  four  years.  For  a  time  fortune  favored 
him,  and  the  prize  seemed  almost  within  his  grasp, 
but  reverses  succeeded  ;  he  was  defeated  at  various 
points  ;  the  factious  nobles,  one  by  one,  deserted 
him,  and  returned  to  their  allegiance  to  Alphonso, 
and  the  duke  was  finally  compelled  to  retire  to  the 
island  of  Ischia.  Here  he  remained  for  some  time, 
guarded  by  eight  galleys,  which  likewise  harassed  the 
bay  of  Naples.*  In  this  squadron,  which  loyally  ad- 
hered to  him,  until  he  ultimately  abandoned  this  unfor- 
tunate enterprise,  Columbus  is  stated  to  have  served. 


No.   IX. 

CAPTURE  OF  THE  VENETIAN  GALLEYS  KY  COLOMBO 
THE  YOUNGER. 

As  the  account  of  the  sea-fight  by  which  Fernando 
Columbus  asserts  that  his  father  was  first  thrown  upon 
the  shores  of  Portugal  has  been  adopted  by  various 
respectable  historians,  it  is  proper  to  give  particular 
reasons  for  discrediting  it. 

Fernando  expressly  says  that  it  was  in  an  action 
mentioned  by  Marco  Antonio  Sabelico,  in  the  eighth 
book  of  his  tenth  Decade*;  that  the  squadron  in 
which  Columbus  served  was  commanded  by  a  famous 
corsair,  called  Columbus  the  younger  (Colombo  el 
mozo),  and  that  an  embassy  was  sent  from  Venice  to 
thank  the  King  of  Portugal  for  the  succor  he  afforded 
to  the  Venetian  captains  and  crews.  All  this  is  cer- 
tainly recorded  in  Sabellicus,  but  the  battle  took  place 
in  1485,  after  Columbus  had  left  Portugal.  Zurita  in 
his  annals  of  Aragon,  under  the  date  of  1685  mentions 
this  same  action.  He  says,  "  At  this  time  four  Vene- 
tian galleys  sailed  from  the  island  of  Cadiz,  and  took 
the  route  for  Flanders  ;  they  were  laden  with  mer- 
chandise from  the  Levant,  especially  from  the  island 
of  Sicily,  and  passing  by  Cape  St.  Vincent,  they  were 
attacked  by  a  French  corsair,  son  of  captain  Colon 
(Colombo),  who  had  seven  vessels  in  his  armada  ;  and 
the  galleys  were  captured  the  twenty-first  of  August,  "f 

A  much  fuller  account  is  given  in  the  life  of  King 
John  II.  of  Portugal,  by  Garcia  de  Resende.  who  like- 
wise records  it  as  happening  in  1485.  He  says  the 
Venetian  galleys  were  taken  and  robbed  by  the  French 
and  the  captains  and  crews,  wounded,  plundered, 
and  maltreated,  were  turned  en  shore  at  Cascoes. 
Here  they  were  succored  by  Dofia  Maria  de  Meneses, 
Countess  of  Monsanto. 

When  King  John  II.  heard  of  the  circumstance, 
being  much  grieved  that  such  an  event  should  have 
happened  on  his  coast,  and  being  disposed  to  show 
his  friendship  for  the  Republic  of  Venice,  he  ordered 
that  the  Venetian  captains  should  be  furnished  with 
rich  raiment  of  silks  and  costly  cloths,  and  provided 
with  horses  and  mules,  that  they  might  make  their 
appearance  before  him  in  a  style  befitting  themselves 
and  their  country.  He  received  them  with  great  kind- 
ness and  distinction,  expressing  himself  with  princely 
courtesy,  both  as  to  themselves  and  the  Republic  of 
Venice  ;  and  having  heard  their  account  of  the  battle, 
and  of  their  destitute  situation,  he  assisted  them  with 
a  large  sum  of  money  to  ransom  their  galleys  from 
the  French  cruisers.  The  latter  took  all  the  merchan- 
dise on  board  of  their  ships,  but  King  John  prohibited 
any  of  the  spoil  from  being  purchased  within  his  do- 
minions. Having  thus  generously  relieved  and  as- 
sisted the  captains,  and  administered  to  the  necessi- 
ties of  their  crews,  he  enabled  them  all  to  return  in 
their  own  galleys  to  Venice. 


*  Golenuccio,  Hist.  Nap.,  lib.  vii.  cap.  17. 
f  Zurita,  Anales  de  Aragon,  lib.  xx.  cap.  64. 


APPENDIX. 


247 


The  dignitaries  of  the  republic  were  so  highly  sen- 
sible of  this  munificence  on  the  part  of  King  John, 
that  they  sent  a  stately  embassy  to  that  monarch, 
with  rich  presents  and  warm  expressions  of  gratitude. 
Geronimo  Donate  was  charged  with  this  mission,  a 
man  eminent  for  learning  and  eloquence  ;  he  was 
honorably  received  and  entertained  by  King  John  and 
dismissed  with  royal  presents,  among  which  were 
genets,  and  mules  with  sumptuous  trappings  and  ca- 
parisons, and  many  negro  slaves  richly  clad.* 

The  following  is  the  account  of  this  action  as  given 
by  Sabellicus,  in  his  history  of  Venice  :f 

Erano  andate  quattro  Galee  delle  quali  Bartolommeo 
Minio  era  capitano.  Queste  navigando  per  1'Iberico 
mare,  Colombo  il  piii  giovane,  nipote  di  quel  Colombo 
famoso  corsale,  fecesi  incontro  a'  Veniziani  di  notte, 
appresso  il  sacro  Promontorio,  che  chiamasi  ora  capo 
di  san  Vincenzo,  con  sette  navi  guernite  da  combat- 
tere.  Egli  quantunque  nel  primo  incontro  avesse 
seco  disposto  d'  opprimere  le  navi  Veniziane,  si  ri- 
tenne  pero  dal  combattere  sin  al  giorno  :  tuttavia  per 
esser  alia  battaglia  piu  acconcio  cost  le  seguia,  che  le 
prode  del  corsale  toccavano  le  poppe  de  Veniziani. 
Venuto  il  giorno  incontanente  i  Barbari  diedero  1'  as- 
salto.  Sostennero  i  Veniziani  allora  1'  empito  del 
nemico,  per  numero  di  navi  e  di  combattenti  supe- 
riore,  e  duro  il  conflitto  atroce  per  molte  ore.  Rare 
fiate  fu  combattuto  contro  simili  nemici  con  tanta 
uccisione,  perche  a  pena  si  costuma  d'  attaccarsi  con- 
tro di  loro,  se  non  per  occasione.  Affermano  alcuni, 
che  vi  furono  present!,  esser  morte  delle  ciurme  Veni- 
ziane da  trecento  uomini.  Altri  dicono  che  fu  meno  : 
mori  in  quella  zuffa  Lorenzo  Michele  capitano  d'  una 
galera  e  Giovanni  Delfino,  d'  altro  capitano  fratello. 
Era  durata  lat  zuffa  dal  fare  del  giorno  fin'  ad  ore  venti, 
e  erano  le  genti  Veneziane  mal  trattate.  Era  gia  la 
nave  Delfina  in  potere  de'  nemici  quando  le  altre  ad 
una  ad  una  si  renderono.  Narrano  alcuni,  che  furono 
di  quel  aspro  conflitto  partecipi,  aver  numerato  nelle 
loro  navi  da  prode  a  poppe  ottanta  valorosi  uomini 
estinti,  i  quali  dal  nemico  veduti  lo  mossero  a  gemere 
e  dire  con  sdegno,  che  cosi  avevano  voluto,  i  Veni- 
ziani. I  corpi  morti  furono  gettati  nel  mare,  e  i  feriti 
posti  nel  lido.  Quei  che  rimasero  vivi  seguirono  con 
e  navi  il  capitano  vittorioso  sin'aLisbona  e  ivi  furono 
tutti  licenziati.  .  .  .  Quivi  furono  i  Veneziani  be- 
nignamente  ricevuti  dal  Re,  gli  infermi  furono  medi- 
cati ,  gli  altri  ebbero  abiti  e  denari  secondo  la  loro 
condizione.  .  .  .  Oltre  ci6  vieto  in  tutto  il  Regno, 
che  alcuno  non  comprasse  della  preda  Veniziana,  por- 
tata  dai  corsali.  La  nuova  dell'  avuta  rovina  non 
poco  afflisse  la  citta,  erano  perduti  in  quella  mercatanzia 
da  ducento  mila  ducati ;  mail  dannoparticolaredegli 
uomini  uccisi  diede  maggior  afflizione. — Marc.  Ant. 
Sabelico,  Hist.  Venet.,  decad.  iv.  lib.  iii. 


No.  X. 

AMERIGO   VESPUCCI. 

AMONG  the  earliest  and  most  intelligent  of  the  voy- 
agers who  followed  the  track  of  Columbus,  was  Amer- 
igo Vespucci.  He  has  been  considered  by  many  as 
the  first  discoverer  of  the  southern  continent,  and  by 
a  singular  caprice  of  fortune,  his  name  has  been  given 
to  the  whole  of  the  New  World.  It  has  been  stren- 
uously insisled,  however,  that  he  had  no  claim  to  the 
title  of  a  discoverer  ;  that  he  merely  sailed  in  a  subor- 
dinate capacity  in  a  squadron  commanded  by  others  ; 


*  Obrasde  Garcia  de  Resende,  cap.  58,  Avora,  1554. 

t  Marco  Antonio  Coccio,  better  known  under  the  name 
of  Sabellicus,  a  cognomen  which  he  adopted  on  being 
crowned  poet  in  the  pedantic  academy  of  Pomponius  Laetus. 
He  was  a  contemporary  of  Columbus,  and  makes  brief 
mention  of  his  discoveries  in  the  eighth  book  of  the  tenth 
Ennead  of  his  universal  history.  By  some  writers  he  is 
called  the  Livy  of  his  time  ;  others  accuse  him  of  being 
full  of  misrepresentations  in  favor  of  Venice.  The  older 
Scaliger  charges  him  with  venality,  and  with  being  swayed 
by  Venetian  gold. 


that  the  account  of  his  first  voyage  is  a  fabrication  ;  and 
that  he  did  not  visit  the  mainland  until  after  it  had 
been  discovered  and  coasted  by  Columbus.  As  this 
question  has  been  made  a  matter  of  warm  and  volu- 
minous controversy,  it  is  proper  to  take  a  summary 
view  of  it  in  the  present  work. 

Amerigo  Vespucci  was  born  in  Florence,  March 
gth,  1451,  of  a  noble,  but  not  at  that  time  a  wealthy 
family;  his  father's  name  was  Anastatio  ;  his  mother's 
was  Eizabetta  Mini.  He  was  the  third  of  their  sons, 
and  received  an  excellent  education  under  his  uncle, 
Georgio  Antonio  Vespucci,  a  learned  friar  of  the  fra- 
ternity of  San  Marco,  who  was  instructor  to  several 
illustrious  personages  of  that  period. 

Amerigo  Vespucci  visited  Spain,  and  took  up  his 
residence  in  Seville,  to  attend  to  some  commercial 
transactions  on  account  of  the  family  of  the  Medici 
of  Florence,  and  to  repair,  by  his  ingenuity,  the 
losses  and  misfcrtunes  of  an  unskilful  brother.* 

The  date  of  his  arrival  in  Spain  is  uncertain,  but 
from  comparing  dates  and  circumstances  mentioned 
in  his  letters,  he  must  have  been  at  Seville  when 
Columbus  returned  from  his  first  voyage. 

Padre  Stanislaus  Canovai,  Professor  of  Mathematics 
at  Florence,  who  has  published  the  life  and  voyages 
of  Amerigo  Vespucci,  says  that  he  was  commissioned 
by  King  Ferdinand,  and  sent  with  Columbus  in  his 
second  voyage  in  1493.  He  states  this  on  the  author- 
ity of  a  passage  in  the  Cosmography  of  Sebastian 
Munster,  published  at  Basle  in  1550  ;f  but  Munster 
mentions  Vespucci  as  having  accompanied  Columbus 
in  his  first  voyage  ;  the  reference  of  Canovai  is  there- 
fore incorrect ;  and  the  suggestion  of  Munster  is  dis- 
proved by  the  letteis  of  Vespucci,  in  which  he  states 
his  having  been  stimulated  by  the  accounts  brought 
of  the  newly  discovered  regions.  He  never  mentions 
such  a  voyage  in  any  of  his  letters  ;  which  he  most 
probably  would  have  done,  or  rather  would  have 
made  it  the  subject  of  a  copious  letter,  had  he  act- 
ually performed  it. 

The  first  notice  of  a  positive  form  which  we  have  of 
Vespucci,  as  resident  in  Spain,  is  early  in  1496.  He 
appears,  from  documents  in  the  royal  archives  at 
Seville,  to  have  acted  as  agent  or  factor  for  the  house 
of  Juanoto  Berardi,  a  rich  Florentine  merchant,  resi- 
dent in  Seville,  who  had  contracted  to  furnish  the 
Spanish  sovereigns  with  three  several  armaments,  of 
four  vessels  each,  for  the  service  of  the  newly  discov- 
ered countries.  He  may  have  been  one  of  the  princi- 
pals in  this  affair,  which  was  transacted  in  the  name 
of  this  established  house.  Berardi  died  in  December, 
1495,  and  in  the  following  January  we  find  Amerigo 
Vespucci  attending  to  the  concerns  of  the  expeditions 
and  settling  with  the  masters  of  the  ships  for  their  pay 
and  maintenance,  according  to  the  agreements  made 
between  them  and  the  late  Juanoto  Berardi.  On  the 
i2th  January,  1496,  he  received  on  this  account  10,- 
ooo  maravedis  from  Bernardo  Pinelo  the  royal  treas- 
urer. He  went  on  preparing  all  things  for  the  dis- 
patch of  four  caravels  to  sail  under  the  same  contract 
between  the  sovereigns  and  the  house  of  Berardi  ard 
sent  them  to  sea  on  the  3d  February,  1496  ;  but  on 
the  8th  they  met  with  a  storm  and  were  wrecked  ;  the 
crews  were  saved  with  the  loss  of  only  three  men.:}: 
While  thus  employed,  Amerigo  Vespucci,  of  course, 
had  occasional  opportunity  of  conversing  with  Colum- 
bus, with  whom,  according  to  the  expression  ot  the 
admiral  himself,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  his  son 
Diego,  he  appears  to  have  been  always  on  friendly 
terms.  From  these  conversations,  and  from  his  agency 
in  these  expeditions,  he  soon  became  excited  to  visit 
the  newly  discovered  countries,  and  to  participate  in 
enterprises  which  were  the  theme  of  every  tongue. 
Having  made  himselt  well  acquainted  with  geographi- 
cal and  nautical  science,  he  prepared  to  launch  into  the 


*  Bandini  vita  d'Amerigo  Vespucci. 

t  Cosm.  Munst.,  p  1108. 

\  These  particulars  are  from  manuscript  memorand.i, 
extracted  from  the  royal  archives,  by  the  late  accurate  his- 
torian Munoz. 


248 


APPENDIX. 


career  of  discovery.  It  was  not  very  long  before  he 
carried  this  design  into  execution. 

In  1498  Columbus,  in  his  third  voyage,  discovered 
the  coast  of  Paria  on  Terra  Firma  ;  which  he  at  that 
time  imagined  to  be  a  great  island,  but  that  a  vast 
continent  lay  immediately  adjacent.  He  sent  to  Spain 
specimens  of  pearls  found  on  this  coast,  and  gave  the 
most  sanguine  accounts  of  the  supposed  riches  of  the 
country. 

In  1499  an  expedition  of  four  vessels,  under  com- 
mand of  Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  was  fitted  out  from  Spain, 
and  sailed  for  Paria,  guided  by  charts  and  letters  sent 
to  the  government  by  Columbus.  These  were  com- 
municated to  Ojeda,  by  his  patron,  the  Bishop  Fonseca, 
who  had  the  superintendence  of  India  affairs,  and 
who  furnished  him  also  with  a  warrant  to  undertake 
the  voyage. 

It  is  presumed  that  Vespucci  aided  in  fitting  out  the 
armament,  and  sailed  in  a  vessel  belonging  to  the 
house  of  Berardi,  and  in  this  way  was  enabled  to  take 
i\  share  in  the  gains  and  losses  of  the  expedition  ;  for 
Isabella,  as  Queen  of  Castile,  had  rigorously  forbid- 
den all  strangers  to  trade  with  her  transatlantic  posses- 
sions, not  even  excepting  the  natives  of  the  kingdom 
of  Aragon. 

This  squadron  visited  Paria  and  several  hundred 
miles  of  the  coast,  which  they  ascertained  to  be  Terra 
Firma.  They  returned  in  June,  1500  ;  and  on  the 
iSth  of  July,  in  that  year,  Amerigo  Vespucci  wrote  an 
account  of  his  voyage  to  Lorenzo  de  Pier  Francisco  de 
Medici  of  Florence,  which  remained  concealed  in 
manuscript  until  brought  to  light  and  published  by 
Bandini  in  1745. 

In  his  account  of  this  voyage,  and  in  every  other 
narrative  of  his  different  expeditions,  Vespucci  never 
mentions  any  other  person  concerned  in  the  enter- 
prise. He  gives  the  time  of  his  sailing,  and  states  that 
he  went  with  two  caravels,  which  were  probably  his 
snare  of  the  expedition,  or  rather  vessels  sent  by  the 
house  of  Berardi.  He  gives  an  interesting  narrative 
of  the  voyage,  and  of  the  various  transactions  with 
the  natives,  which  corresponds,  in  many  substantial 
points,  with  the  accounts  furnished  by  Ojeda  and  his 
mariners  of  their  voyage,  in  a  lawsuit  hereafter  men- 
tioned. 

In  May,  1501,  Vespucci,  having  suddenly  left 
Spain,  sailed  in  the  service  of  Emanuel,  King  of  Por- 
tugal ;  in  the  course  of  which  expedition  he  visited 
the  coast  of  Brazil.  He  gives  an  account  of  this  voy- 
age in  a  second  letter  to  Lorenzo  de  Pier  Francisco  de 
Medici,  which  also  remained  in  manuscript  until  pub- 
lished by  Bartolozzi  in  1789.* 

No  record  nor  notice  of  any  such  voyage  undertaken 
by  Amerigo  Vespucci,  at  the  command  of  Emanuel,  is 
to  be  found  in  the  archives  of  the  Torre  do  Tombo, 
the  general  archives  of  Portugal,  which  have  been 
repeatedly  and  diligently  searched  for  the  purpose.  It 
is  singular  also  that  his  name  is  not  to  be  found  in 
any  of  the  Portuguese  historians,  who  in  general  were 
very  particular  in  naming  all  navigators  who  held  any 
important  station  among  them,  or  rendered  any  dis- 
tinguished services.  That  Vespucci  did  sail  along  the 
coasts,  however,  is  not  questioned.  His  nephew, 
alter  his  death,  in  the  course  of  evidence  on  some 
points  in  dispute,  gave  the  correct  latitude  of  Cape  St. 
Augustine,  which  he  said  he  had  extracted  from  his 
uncle's  journal. 

In  1504  Vespucci  wrote  a  third  letter  to  the  same 
Lorenzo  de  Medici,  containing  a  more  extended  ac- 
count of  the  voyage  just  alluded  to  in  the  service  of 
Portugal.  This  was  the  first  of  his  narratives  that 
appeared  in  print.  It  appears  to  have  been  pub- 
lished in  Latin,  at  Strasburgh,  as  early  as  1505,  under 
the  title  "  Arriericus  Vesputius  de  Orbe  Antarctica 
per  Regem  Portugalliae  pridem  inventa.  "f 

An  edition  of  this  letter  was  printed  in  Vicenza  in 
1507,  in  an  anonymous  collection  of  voyages  edited 


*  Bartolozzi,  Recherche  Historico.     Firenze,  1789. 
t  Panzer,   torn.    vi.  p.   33,   apud   Esame  Critico,    p. 
Anotazione  i. 


by  Francanziodi  Monte  Alboddo,  an  inhabitant  of 
Vicenza.  It  was  reprinted  in  Italian  in  1508,  at 
Milan,  and  also  in  Latin,  in  a  book  entitled  "  Iiinera- 
rium  Portugalensium."  In  making  the  present  illustra- 
tion, the  Milan  edition  in  Italian*  has  been  consulted, 
and  also  a  Latin  translation  of  it  by  Simon  Grimaeus, 
in  his  "  Novus  Orbis,"  published  at  Basle  in  1532  It 
relates  entirely  the  first  voyage  of  Vespucci  irom  Lis- 
bon to  the  Brazils  in  1501. 

It  is  from  this  voyage  to  the  Brazils  that  Amerigo 
Vespucci  was  first  considered  the  discoverer  of  Terra 
Firma  ;  and  his  name  was  at  first  applied  to  these 
southern  regions,  though  afterward  extended  to  the 
whole  continent.  The  merits  of  his  voyage  were, 
however,  greatly  exaggerated  The  Brazils  had  been 
previously  discovered,  and  formally  taken  possession 
of  for  Spain  in  1500,  by  Vmcente  Yanez  Pinzon  ;  and 
also  in  the  same  year,  by  Pedro  Alvarez  Cabral,  on 
the  part  of  Portugal  ;  circumstances  unknown,  how- 
ever, to  Vespucci  and  his  associates.  The  country  re- 
mained in  possession  of  Portugal,  in  conformity  to 
the  line  of  demarcation  agreed  on  between  the  two 
nations. 

Vespucci  made  a  second  voyage  in  the  service  of 
Portugal.  He  says  that  he  commanded  a  caraval  in  a 
squadron  of  six  vessels  destined  for  the  discovery  of 
Malacca,  which  they  had  heard  to  be  the  great  depot 
and  magazine  of  all  the  trade  between  the  Ganges 
and  the  Indian  sea.  Such  an  expedition  did  sail 
about  this  time,  under  the  command  of  Gonzalo 
Coelho.  The  squadron  sailed,  according  to  Vespucci, 
on  the  loth  of  May,  1503.  It  stopped  at  the  Cape  de 
Verd  islands  for  refreshments,  and  afterward  sailed 
by  the  coast  of  Sierra  Leone,  but  was  prevented  from 
landing  by  contrary  winds  and  a  turbulent  sea, 
Standing  to  the  southwest,  they  ran  three  hundred 
leagues  until  they  were  three  degrees  to  the  south- 
ward of  the  equinoctial  line,  where  they  discovered 
an  uninhabited  island,  about  two  leagues  in  length 
and  one  in  breadth.  Here,  on  the  loth  of  August,  by 
mismanagement,  the  commander  of  the  squadron 
ran  his  vessel  on  a  rock  and  lost  her.  While  the 
other  vessels  were  assisting  to  save  the  crew  and  prop- 
erty from  the  wreck,  Amerigo  Vespucci  was  dis- 
patched in  his  caravel  to  search  for  a  safe  harbor  in 
the  island.  He  departed  in  his  vessel  without  his  long 
boat,  and  with  less  than  half  of  his  crew,  the  rest 
having  gone  in  the  boat  to  the  assistance  of  the 
wreck.  Vespucci  found  a  harbor,  but  waited  in  vain 
for  several  days  for  the  arrival  of  the  ships.  Standing 
out  to  sea  he  met  with  a  solitary  vessel,  and  learned 
that  the  ship  of  the  commander  had  sunk,  and  the 
rest  had  proceeded  onward.  In  company  with  this 
vessel  he  stood  for  the  Brazils,  according  to  a  com- 
mand of  the  king,  in  case  that  any  vessel  should  be 
parted  from  the  fleet.  Arriving  on  the  coast  he  dis- 
covered the  famous  bay  of  All  Saints,  where  he  re- 
mained upward  of  two  months,  in  hopes  of  being 
joined  by  the  rest  of  the  fleet.  He  at  length  ran  260 
leagues  farther  south,  where  he  remained  five  months 
building  a  fort  and  taking  in  a  cargo  of  Brazil  wood. 
Then,  leaving  in  the  fortress  a  garrison  of  twenty-four 


*  This  rare  book,  in  the  possession  of  O.  Rich,  Esq.,  is 
believed  to  be  the  oldest  printed  collection  of  voyages  ex- 
tant.  It  has  not  the  pages  numbered,  the  sheets  are  merely 
marked  with  a  letter  of  the  alphabet  at  the  foot  of  each 
eighth  page.  It  contains  the  earliest  account  of  the  voyages 
of  Columbus,  from  his  first  departure  until  his  arrival  at 
Cadiz  in  chains.  The  letter  of  Vespucci  to  Lorenzo  de 
Medici  occupies  the  fifth  book  of  this  little  volume.  It  is 
stated  to  have  been  originally  written  in  Spanish,  and 
translated  into  Italian  by  a  person  of  the  name  of  Jocondo. 
An  earlier  edition  is  stated  to  have  been  printed  in  Venice 
by  Alberto  Vercellese,  in  1504.  The  author  is  said  to  have 
been  Angelo  Trivigiani,  secretary  to  the  Venetian  ambassa- 
dor in  Spain.  .This  Trivigiani  appears  to  have  collected 
many  of  the  particulars  of  the  voyages  of  Columbus  from 
the  manuscript  decades  of  Peter  Martyr,  who  erroneously 
lays  the  charge  of  the  plagiarism  to  Aloysius  Cadamosto, 
whose  voyages  are  inserted  in  the  same  collection.  The 
book  was  entitled  "  Libretto  di  tutta  la.  navigazwne  del  Re 
de  Espagna,  delta  I  sole  e  terreni  nuovamente  trovati." 


APPENDIX. 


24.0 


men  with  arms  and  ammunition,  he  set  sail  for  Lisbon, 
where  he  arrived  in  June,  1504.*  The  commander  of 
the  squadron  and  the  other  four  ships  were  never 
heard  of  afterward. 

Vespucci  does  not  appear  to  have  received  the  re- 
ward from  the  King  of  Portugal  that  his  services 
merited,  for  we  find  him  at  Seville  early  in  1505,  on 
his  way  to  the  Spanish  court,  in  quest  of  employment  ; 
and  he  was  bearer  of  a  letter  from  Columbus  to  his 
son  Diego,  dated  February  5th,  which,  while  it  speaks 
warmly  of  him  as  a  friend,  intimates  his  having  been 
unfortunate.  The  following  is  the  letter  : 

"  MY  DEAR  SON  :  Diego  Mendez  departed  hence  on 
Monday,  the  third  of  this  month.  After  his  departure 
I  conversed  with  Amerigo  Vespucci,  the  bearer  of 
this,  who  goes  there  (to  court)  summoned  on  affairs 
of  navigation.  Fortune  has  been  adverse  to  him  as  to 
many  others.  His  labors  have  not  profited  him  as 
much  as  they  reasonably  should  have  done.  He  goes 
on  my.  account,  and  with  much  desire  to  do  something 
that  may  result  to  my  advantage,  if  within  his  power. 
I  cannot  ascertain  here  in  what  I  can  employ  him, 
that  will  be  serviceable  to  me,  for  I  do  no  know  what 
may  be  there  required.  He  goes  with  the  determina- 
tion to  do  all  that  is  possible  for  me  ;  see  in  what  he 
may  be  of  advantage  and  co-operate  with  him,  that 
he  may  say  and  do  everything,  and  put  his  plans  in 
operation  ;  and  let  all  be  done  secretly,  that  he  may 
not  be  suspected.  I  have  said  everything  to  him  that 
I  can  say  touching  the  business,  and  have  informed 
him  of  the  pay  I  have  received,  and  what  is  due, 
etc."f 

About  this  time  Amerigo  Vespucci  received  letters 
of  naturalization  from  King  Ferdinand,  and  shortly 
afterward  he  and  Vincente  Yanez  Pinzon  were  named 
captains  of  an  armada  about  to  be  sent  out  in  the 
spice  trade  and  to  make  discoveries.  There  is  a  royal 
order,  dated  Toro,  nth  of  April,  1507,  for  12,000 
maravedis  for  an  outfit  for  "  Americo  de  Vespuche, 
resident  of  Seville."  Preparations  were  made  for  this 
voyage,  and  vessels  procured  and  fitted  out,  but  it 
was  eventually  abandoned.  There  are  memoranda 
existing  concerning  it,  dated  in  1506,  1507,  and  1508, 
from  which  it  appears  that  Amerigo  Vespucci  re- 
mained at  Seville,  attending  to  the  fluctuating  con- 
cerns of  this  squadron,  until  the  destination  of  the 
vessels  was  changed,  their  equipments  were  sold,  and 
the  accounts  settled.  During  this  time  he  had  a  sal- 
ary of  30,000  maravedis.  On  the  22d  of  March,  1508,  he 
received  the  appointment  of  principal  pilot,  with  a  sal- 
ary of  70,000  maravedis.  His  chief  duties  were  to  pre- 
pare charts,  examine  pilots,  superintend  the  fitting 
out  of  expeditions,  and  prescribe  the  route  that  ves- 
sels were  to  pursue  in  their  voyages  to  the  New 
World.  He  appears  to  have  remained  at  Seville,  and 
to  have  retained  this  office  until  his  death,  on  the  22d 
of  February,  1512.  His  widow,  Maria  Corezo,  en- 
joyed a  pension  of  10,000  maravedis.  After  his 
death,  his  nephew,  Juan  Vespucci,  was  nominated 
pilot  with  a  salary  of  20,000  maravedis,  commencing 
on  the  22d  of  May,  1512.  Peter  Martyr  speaks  with 
high  commendation  of  this  young  man.  "  Young 
Vesputius  is  one  to  whom  Americus  Vesputius  his 
uncle  left  the  exact  knowledge  of  the  mariner's  facul- 
ties, as  it  were  by  inheritance,  after  his  death  ;  for  he 
was  a  very  expert  master  in  the  knowledge  of  his 
carde,  his  compasse,  and  the  elevation  of  the  pole 
starre  by  the  quadrant.  .  .  .  Vesputius  is  my 
very  familiar  friend,  and  a  wittie  young  man,  in 
whose  company  I  take  great  pleasure,  and  therefore 
use  him  oftentymes  for  my  guest.  He  hath  also  made 
many  voyages  into  these  coasts,  and  diligently  noted 
such  things  as  he  hath  seen."^ 

Vespucci,  the  nephew,  continued  in  this    situation 


-Edit,   of 


*  Letter  of  Vespucci  to  Soderini   or   Renatc 
Canovai. 

f  Navarrete,  Colec.  Viag.,  torn.  i.  p.  351. 

j  Peter  Martyr,  decad.  iii.  lib.  v.  Eden's  English  trans. 


during  the  lifetime  of  Fonseca,  who  had  been  the  pa- 
tron of  his  uncle  and  his  family.  He  was  divested  of 
his  pay  and  his  employ  by  a  letter  of  the  council,  dated 
the  i8th  of  March,  1525,  shortly  after  the  death  of  the 
bishop.  No  further  notice  of  Vespucci  is  to  be  found 
in  the  archives  of  the  Indies. 

Such  is  a  brief  view  of  the  career  of  Amerigo  Ves- 
pucci ;  it  remains  to  notice  the  points  of  controversy. 
Shortly  after  his  return  from  his  last  expedition  to  the 
Brazils,  he  wrote  a  letter  dated  Lisbon,  4th  Septem- 
ber, 1504,  containing  a  summary  account  of  all  his 
voyages.  This  letter  is  of  special  importance  to  the 
matters  under  investigation,  as  it  is  the  only  one 
known  that  relates  to  the  disputed  voyage,  which 
would  establish  him  as  the  discoverer  of  Terra  Firma. 
It  is  presumed  to  have  been  written  in  Latin,  and  was 
addressed  to  Rene,  Duke  of  Lorraine,  who  assumed 
the  title  of  King  of  Sicily  and  Jerusalem. 

The  earliest  known  edition  of  this  letter  was  pub- 
lished in  Latin,  in  1507,  at  St.  Diez  in  Lorraine.  A 
copy  of  it  has  been  found  in  the  library  of  the  Vatican 
(No.  9688)  by  the  Abbe  Cancellieri.  In  preparing  the 
present  illustration,  a  reprint  of  this  letter  in  Latin 
has  been  consulted,  inserted  in  the  Novus  Orbis  of 
Grinseus,  published  at  Bath  in  1532.  The  letter  con- 
tains a  spirited  narrative  of  four  voyages  which  he  as- 
serts to  have  made  to  the  New  World.  In  the  pro- 
logue he  excuses  the  liberty  of  addressing  King  Rene 
by  calling  to  his  recollection  the  ancient  intimacy  of 
their  youth,  when  studying  the  rudiments  of  science 
together,  underjthe  paternal  uncle  of  the  voyager  ; 
and  adds  that  if^he  present  narrative  should  not  al- 
together please  his  majesty,  he  must  plead  to  him  as 
Pliny  said  to  Mecsenas,  that  he  used  formerly  to  be 
amused  with  his  triflings. 

In  the  prologue  to  this  letter,  he  informs  King 
Rene  that  affairs  of  commerce  had  brought  him  to 
Spain,  where  he  had  experienced  the  various  changes 
of  fortune  attendant  on  such  transactions,  and  was  in- 
duced to  abandon  that  pursuit  and  direct  his  labors  to 
objects  of  a  more  elevated  and  stable  nature.  He 
therefore  purposed  to  contemplate  various  parts  of 
the  world,  and  to  behold  the  marvels  which  it  con- 
tains. To  this  object  both  time  and  place  were  fa- 
vorable ;  for  King  Ferdinand  was  then  preparing  four 
vessels  for  the  discovery  of  new  lands  in  the  west, 
and  appointed  him  among  the  number  of  those  who 
went  in  the  expedition.  "  We  departed,"  he  adds, 
"  from  the  port  of  Cadiz,  May  2oth,  1497,  taking  our 
course  on  the  great  gulf  of  ocean  ;  in  which  voyage 
we  employed  eighteen  months,  discovering  many 
lands  and  innumerable  islands,  chiefly  inhabited,  of 
which  our  ancestors  make  no  mention." 

A  duplicate  of  this  letter  appears  to  have  been  sent 
at  the  same  time  (written,  it  is  said,  in  Italian)  to 
Piere  Soderini,  afterward  Gonfalonier  of  Florence, 
which  was  some  years  subsequently  published  in  Italy 
not  earlier  than  1510,  and  entitled  "  Lettera  de  Amer- 
igo Vespucci  delle  Isole  nuovamente  trovate  in  quatro 
suoiviaggi."  We  have  consulted  the  edition  of  this 
letter  in  Italian,  inserted  in  the  publication  of  Padre 
Stanislaus  Canovai,  already  referred  to. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  an  Italian  writer,  that 
this  letter  was  written  by  Vespucci  to  Soderini  only, 
and  the  address  altered  to  King  Rene  through  the 
flattery  or  mistake  of  the  Lorraine  editor,  without 
perceiving  how  unsuitable  the  reference  to  former  in- 
timacy, intended  for  Soberini,  was,  when  applied  to 
a  sovereign.  The  person  making  this  remark  can 
hardly  have  read  the  prologue  to  the  Latin  edition,  in 
which  the  title  of  "  your  majesty"  is  frequently  re- 
peated, and  the  term  "  illustrious  king"  employed. 
It  was  first  published  also  in  Lorraine,  the  domains  of 
Rene,  and  the  publisher  would  not  probably  have  pre- 
sumed to  take  such  a  liberty  with  his  sovereign's 
name.  It  becomes  a  question,  whether  Vespucci  ad- 
dressed the  same  letter  to  King  Rene  and  to  Piere 
Soderini,  both  of  them  having  been  educated  with 
him,  or  whether  he  sent  a  copy  of  this  letter  to  Soder- 
ini, which  subsequently  found  its  way  into  print. 
The  address  to  Soderini  may  have  been  substituted, 


250 


APPENDIX. 


through  mistake,  by  the  Italian  publisher.  Neither  of 
the  publications  could  have  been  made  under  the  su- 
pervision of  Vespucci. 

The  voyage  specified  in  this  letter  as  having  taken 
place  in  1497,  is  the  great  point  in  controversy.  It  is 
strenuously  asserted  that  no  such  voyage  took  place  ; 
and  that  the  first  expedition  of  Vespucci  to  the  coast 
oi  Paria  was  in  the  enterprise  commanded  by  Ojeda, 
in  1499.  The  books  of  the  armadas  existing  in  the 
archives  of  the  Indies  at  Seville  have  been  diligently 
examined,  but  no  record  of  such  voyage  has  been 
found,  nor  any  official  documents  relating  to  it.  Those 
most  experienced  in  Spanish  colonial  regulations  in- 
sist that  no  command  like  that  pretended  by  Ves- 
pucci could  have  been  given  to  a  stranger,  till  he  had 
nrst  received  le'.ters  of  naturalization  from  the  sover- 
eigns for  the  kingdom  of  Castile,  and  he  did  not  ob- 
tain such  till  1505,  when  they  were  granted  to  him  as 
preparatory  to  giving  him  the  command  in  conjunc- 
tion with  Pinzon. 

His  account  of  a  voyage  made  by  him  in  1497, 
therefore,  is  alleged  to  be  a  fabrication  for  the  pur- 
pose of  claiming  the  discovery  of  Paria  ;  or  rather  it 
is  affirmed  that  he  has  divided  the  voyage  which  he 
actually  made  with  Ojeda,  in  1499,  into  two  ;  taking 
a  number  of  incidents  from  his  real  voyage,  altering 
them  a  little,  and  enlarging  them  with  descriptions  of 
the  countries  and  people,  so  as  to  make  a  plausible 
narrative,  which  he  gives  as  a  distinct  voyage;  and 
antedating  his  departure  to  1497,  so  as  to  make  him- 
self appear  the  first  discoverer  of  Pafcia. 

In  support  of  this  charge  various  coincidences  have 
been  pointed  out  between  his  voyage  said  to  have 
taken  place  in  1497,  and  that  described  in  his  first 
letter  to  Lorenzo  de  Medici  in  1499.  These  coinci- 
dences are  with  respect  to  places  visited,  transactions 
and  battles  with  the  natives,  and  the  number  of  In- 
dians carried  to  Spain  and  sold  as  slaves. 

But  the  credibility  of  this  voyage  has  been  put  to 
a  stronger  test.  About  1508  a  suit  was  instituted 
against  the  crown  of  Spain  by  Don  Diego,  son  and 
heir  of  Columbus,  for  the  government  of  certain  parts 
of  Terra  Firma,  and  for  a  share  in  the  revenue  arising 
from  them,  conformably  to  the  capitulations  made 
between  the  sovereigns  and  his  father.  It  was  the  ob- 
ject of  the  crown  to  disprove  the  discovery  of  the 
coast  of  Paria  and  the  pearl  islands  by  Columbus,  as 
it  was  maintained  that  unless  he  had  discovered 
them,  the  claim  of  his  heir  with  respect  to  them 
would  be  of  no  validity. 

In  the  course  of  this  suit,  a  particular  examination 
of  witnesses  took  place  in  1512-13  in  the  fiscal  court. 
Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  and  nearly  a  hundred  other  per- 
sons, were  interrogated  on  oath  ;  that  voyager  hav- 
ing been  the  first  to  visit  the  coast  of  Paria  after 
Columbus  had  left  it,  and  that  within  a  very  few 
months.  The  interrogatories  of  these  witnesses,  and 
their  replies,  are  still  extant,  in  the  archives  of  the 
Indies  at  Seville,  in  a  packet  of  papers  entitled 
"  Papers  belonging  to  the  Admiral  Don  Luis  Colon, 
about  the  conservation  of  his  privileges,  from  ann. 
1515101564."  The  author  of  the  present  work  has 
two  several  copies  of  these  interrogatories  lying  before 
him.  One  made  by  the  late  historian  Mufloz,  and  the 
other  made  in  1826,  and  signed  by  Don  Jose  de  la  Hig- 
uera  y  Lara,  keeper  of  the  general  archives  of  the  In- 
dies in  Seville.  In  the  course  of  this  testimony,  the 
fact  that  Amerigo  Vespucci  accompanied  Ojeda  in  this 
voyage  of  1499,  appears  manifest,  first  from  the  de- 
position of  Ojeda  himself.  The  following  are  the 
words  of  the  record  :  "  In  this  voyage  which  this  said 
witness  made,  he  took  with  him  Juan  de  la  Cosa  and 
Morego  Vespuche  [Amerigo  Vespucci]  and  other  pi- 
lots. "*  Secondly,  from  the  coincidence  of  many 
parts  of  the  narrative  of  Vespucci  with  events  in  this 
voyage  of  Ojeda.  Among  these  coincidences,  one  is 
particularly  striking.  Vespucci,  in  his  letter  to  Lo- 


*  En  este  viage  que  este  dicho  testigo  hizo  trujo  consigo 
a  Juan  de  la  Cosa,  piloto,  e  Morego  Vespuche,  e  otros 
pilotos. 


renzo  de  Medici,  and  also  in  that  to  Rene  or  Soderinii 
says  that  his  ships,  after  leaving  the  coast  of  Terra 
Firma,  stopped  at  Hispaniola,  where  they  remained 
about  two  months  and  a  half,  procuring  provisions, 
during  which  time,  he  adds,  "  we  had  many  perils  and 
troubles  with  the  very  Christians  who  were  in  that 
island  with  Columbus,  and  I  believe  through  envy.* 

Now  it  is  well  known  that  Ojeda  passed  some  time 
on  the  western  end  of  the  island  victualing  his  ships  ; 
and  that  serious  dissensions  took  place  between  him 
and  the  Spaniards  in  those  parts,  and  the  party  sent 
by  Columbus  under  Roldan  to  keep  a  watch  upon  his 
movements.  If  then  Vespucci,  as  is  stated  upon 
oath,  really  accompanied  Ojeda  in  this  voyage,  the 
inference  appears  almost  irresistible,  that  he  had  not 
made  the  previous  voyage  of  1497,  for  the  fact  would 
have  been  well  known  to  Ojeda  ;  he  would  have  con- 
sidered Vespucci  as  the  original  discoverer  and  would 
have  had  no  motive  for  depriving  him  of  the  merit  of 
it,  to  give  it  to  Columbus,  with  whom  Ojeda  was  not 
upon  friendly  terms. 

Ojeda,  however,  expressly  declares  that  the  coast 
had  been  discovered  by  Columbus.  On  being  asked 
how  he  knew  the  fact,  he  replied,  because  he  saw  the 
chart  of  the  country  discovered,  which  Columbus  sent 
at  the  time  to  the  king  and  queen,  and  that  he  came 
off  immediately  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  and  found 
what  was  therein  set  down  as  discovered  by  the  ad- 
miral was  correct,  f 

Another  witness,  Bernaldo  de  Haro,  states  that  he 
had  been  with  the  admiral,  and  had  written  (oi 
rather  copied)  a  letter  for  the  admiral  to  the  king  and 
queen,  designating,  in  an  accompanying  sea-chart, 
the  courses  and  steerings  and  winds  by  which  he  had 
arrived  at  Paria  ;'  and  that  this  witness  had  heard  that 
from  this  chart  others  had  been  made,  and  that  Pedro 
Alonzo  Nino  and  Ojeda,  and  others,  who  had  since 
visited  these  countries,  had  been  guided  by  the  same.  | 

Francisco  de  Molares,  one  of  the  best  and  credible 
of  all  the  pilots,  testified  that  he  saw  a  sea-chart  which 
Columbus  had  made  of  the  coast  of  Paria,  and  he 
believed  that  all  governed  themselves  by  ;'/.§ 

Numerous  witnesses  in  this  process  testify  to  the 
fact  that  Paria  was  first  discovered  by  Columbus. 
Las  Casas,  who  has  been  at  the  pains  of  counting 
them,  says  that  the  fact  was  established  by  twenty- 
five  eye-witnesses  and  sixty  ear-witnesses.  Many  of 
them  testify  also  that  the  coast  south  of  Paria,  and 
that  extending  west  of  the  island  of  Margarita,  away 
to  Venezuela,  which  Vespucci  states  to  have  been  dis- 
covered by  himself  in  1497,  was  now  first  discovered 
by  Ojeda,  and  had  never  before  been  visited  either  by 
the  admiral  "  or  any  other  Christian  whatever." 

Alonzo  Sanchez  de  Carvajal  says  that  all  the  voy- 
ages of  discovery  which  were  made  to  the  Terra 
Firma,  were  made  by  persons  who  had  sailed  with 
the  admiral,  or  been  benefited  by  his  instructions  and 
directions,  following  the  course  he  had  laid  down  ;  ij 


*  Per  la  necessita  del  mantenimento  fhmmo  all'  Isola 
d'Anriglia  (Hispaniola)  chee  questa  chedesc-perie  Cristo- 
val  Colombo  piii  anni  fa,  dove  lacemmo  moho  manteni- 
mento, e  stemmo  due  mesi  e  17  giorni ;  dove  passammo 
moti  pericoli  e  travagli  con  li  mede?imi  cliristiani  que  in 
questa  isola  stavanno  col  Colombo  (credo  per  invidia). 
Letter  of  Vespucci — Edit,  of  Canovai. 

t  Preguntado  como  lo  sabe  ;  dijo — que  lo  sabe  porque 
vio  este  testigo  la  fisjura  que  el  dicho  Almiranie  al  dicho 
tiempo  embi<5  a  Casiilla  al  Rey  e  Reyna,  nuestros  Seiiores, 
de  lo  que  hahi  i  descnbierto,  y  porque  este  testigo  luego 
vino  a  descubrir  y  hallo  que  era  verdad  lo  que  dicho  tiene 
que  el  dicho  Almirante  descubrio.  MS.  Process  of  D. 
Diepo  Colcn,  pregunta  2. 

\  Este  testigo  escrivio  una  carta  que  el  Almirante  escrivi- 
era  al  Rey  a  Reyna  N.  N.  S.S.  haciendo  les  saber  lasperlas 
ecosas  que  habiahallado,  y  le  embio  seiialado  con  la  dicho. 
carta,  en  una  carta  de  marear,  los  rumhos  y  vientos  por 
donde  habia  Ilegado  a  la  Paria,  e  que  este  testigo  oyo  decir 
como  pr.  aquella  carte  se  habian  hec^o  otras  e  por  ellas 
habian  venido  Pedro  Alonzo  Merino  [Xino]  e  Ojeda  e  otros 
que  rlespues  lian  ido  a  aquellas  partes.  Idem,  pregunta  9. 

fy  Process  of  D.  Diego  Colon,  pregunta  10. 

||  Que  en  todos  los  viapes  que  algunos  hicieron  descu- 
briendo  en  la  dicha  tierra,  ivan  personas  que  ovieron 


APPENDIX. 


251 


and  the  same  is  testified  by  many  other  pilots  and 
mariners  of  reputation  and  experience. 

It  would  be  a  singuar  circumstance,  if  none  of  these 
witnesses,  many  of  whom  must  have  sailed  in  the 
same  squadron  with  Vespucci  along  this  coast  in 

1499,  should  have  known  that  he  had  discovered  and 
explored  it   two  years  previously.     If  that  had  really 
been  the  case,  what  motive  could  he  have  for  con- 
cealing the  fact  ?  and  why,  if  they  knew  it,  should 
they  not  proclaim  it  ?     Vespucci  states  his  voyage  in 
1497  to  have  been  made  with  four  caravels  ;  that  they 
returned  in  October,  1498,  and  that  he  sailed  again 
with  two  caravels  in  May,  1499  (tr>e  date  of  Ojeda's  de- 
parture).   Many  of  the  mariners  would  therefore  have 
been  present  in    both   voyages.      Why,    too,  should 
Ojeda  and  the  other  pilots  guide  themselves  by  the 
charts  of  Columbus,  when  they  had  a  man  on  board 
so  learned  in  nautical  science,  and  who,  from  his  own 
recent  observations,  was  practically  acquainted   with 
the  coast  ?    Not  a  word,  however,  is  mentioned  of  the 
voyage  and  discovery  of  Vespucci  by  any  of  the  pilots 
though  every  other  voyage  and  discovery  is  cited  ; 
nor  does  there  even  a  seaman  appear  who  has  ac- 
companied him  in  his  asserted  voyage. 

Another  strong  circumstance  against  the  reality  of 
this  voyage  is,  that  it  was  not  brought  forward  in  this 
trial  to  defeat  the  claims  of  the  heirs  of  Columbus. 
Vespucci  states  the  voyage  to  have  been  undertaken 
with  the  knowledge  and  countenance  of  King  Ferdi- 
nand ;  it  must,  therefore,  have  been  avowed  and  no- 
torious. Vespucci  was  living  at  Seville  in  1508,  at  the 
time  of  the  commencement  of  this  suit,  and  for  four 
years  afterward,  a  salaried  servant  of  the  crown. 
Many  of  the  pilots  and  mariners  must  have  been  at 
hand,  who  sailed  with  him  in  his  pretended  enter- 
prise. If  this  voyage  had  once  been  proved,  it  would 
completely  have  settled  the  question,  as  far  as  con- 
cerned the  coast  of  Paria,  in  favor  of  the  crown.  Yet 
no  testimony  appears  ever  to  have  been  taken  from 
Vespucci  while  living  ;  and  when  the  interrogatories 
were  made  in  the  fiscal  court  in  1512-13,  not  one  of 
his  seamen  is  brought  up  to  give  evidence.  A  voyage 
so  important  in  its  nature,  and  so  essential  to  the  ques- 
tion in  dispute,  is  not  even  alluded  to,  while  useless 
pains  are  taken  to  wrest  evidence  from  the  voyage  of 
Ojeda,  undertaken  at  a  subsequent  period. 

It  is  a  circumstance  worthy  of  notice,  that  Vespucci 
commences  his  first  letters  to  Lorenzo  de  Medici  in 

1500,  within  a  month  after  his  return  from  the  voyage 
he  had  actually  made  to  Paria,  and  apologizes  for  his 
long  silence,   by  saying  that    nothing    had    occurred 
worthy  of    mention    ("  e     gran   tempo   che   non   ho 
scritto  a  vostra  magnifizensa,  e  non  lo  ha  causato  altra 
cosa  ne  nessuna  salvo  non  'mi  essere  occorso   cosa 
degna  di   memoria").   and  proceeds   eagerly   to    tell 
him  the  wonders  he  had  witnessed  in  the  expedition 
from  which  he  had  but  just  returned.     It  would  be  a 
singular  forgetfulness  to   say  that    nothing    had  oc- 
curred of  importance,  if  he  had  made  a  previous  voy- 
age of  eighteen  months  in   1497-8  to  this  newly-dis- 
covered   world  ;     and    it    would   be   almost   equally 
strange  that  he  should  not  make  the  slightest  allusion 
to  it  in  this  letter. 

It  has  been  the  endeavor  of  the  author  to  examine 
this  question  dispassionately  ;  and  after  considering 
the  statements  and  arguments  advanced  on  either 
side,  he  cannot  resist  a  conviction,  that  the  voyage 
stated  to  have  been  made  in  1497  did  not  take  place, 
and  that  Vespucci  has  no  title  to  the  first  discovery  of 
the  coast  of  Paria. 

The  question  is  extremely  perplexing  from  the 
difficulty  of  assigning  sufficient  motives  for  so  gross 
a  deception.  When  Vespurci  wrote  his  letters  there 
was  no  doutt  entertained  but  that  Columbus  had  dis- 


navegadocon  el  diclio  Almirante,  y  a  ellos  mostrd  muchas 
cosas  de  marear,  y  ellos  por  imitacion  e  industria  del  dicho 
Almirante  las  ap'rendian  y  aprendieron,  e  seguendo  ag°. 
que  el  dicho  Almirnnte  le's  habia  mostrado,  hicieron  los 
viages  que  descubrieron  en  la  Tierra  Firma.  Process, 
pregunta  10. 


covered  the  main-land  in  his  first  voyage  ;  Cuba  being 
always  considered  the  extremity  of  Asia,  until  circum- 
navigated in  1508.  Vespucci  may  have  supposed  Bra- 
zil, Paria,  and  the  rest  of  that  coast,  part  of  a  distinct 
continent,  and  have  been  anxious  to  arrogate  to  him- 
self the  fame  of  its  discovery.  It  has  been  asserted 
that,  on  his  return  from  his  voyage  to  the  Brazils,  he 
prepared  a  maritime  chart,  in  which  he  gave  his  name 
to  that  part  of  the  main-land  ;  but  this  assertion  does 
not  appear  to  be  well  substantiated.  It  would  rather 
seem  that  his  name  was  given  to  that  part  of  the  con- 
tinent by  others,  as  a  tribute  paid  to  his  supposed 
merit,  in  consequence  of  having  read  his  own  account 
of  his  voyages.* 

It  is  singular  that  Fernando,  the  son  of  Columbus, 
in  his  biography  of  his  father,  should  bring  no  charge 
against  Vespucci  of  endeavoring  to  supplant  the  admi- 
ral in  this  discovery.  Herrera  has  been  cited  as  the 
first  to  bring  the  accusation,  in  his  history  of  the  In- 
dies, first  published  in  1601,  and  has  been  much  criti- 
cised in  consequence,  by  the  advocates  of  Vespucci, 
as  making  the  charge  on  his  mere  assertion.  But,  in 
fact,  Herrera  did  but  copy  what  he  found  written  by 
Las  Casas  who  had  the  proceedings  of  the  fiscal  court 
lying  before  him,  and  was  moved  to  indignation 
against  Vespucci,  by  what  he  considered  proofs  of 
great  imposture. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Vespucci  was  instigated 
to  this  deception  at  the  time  when  he  was  seeking  em- 
ployment in  the  colonial  service  of  Spain  ;  and  that 
he  did  it  to  conciliate  the  Bishop  Fonseca,  who  was 
desirous  of  anything  that  might  injure  the  interests 
of  Columbus.  In  corroboration  of  this  opinion,  the 
patronage  is  cited,  which  was  ever  shown  by  Fonseca 
to  Vespucci  and  his  family.  This  is  not,  however,  a 
satisfactory  reason,  since  it  does  not  appear  that  the 
bishop  ever  made  any  use  of  the  fabrication.  Perhaps 
some  other  means  might  be  found  of  accounting  for  this 
spurious  narration,  without  implicating  the  veracity  of 
Vespucci.  It  may  have  been  the  blunder  of  some 
editor,  or  the  interpolation  of  some  book-maker, 
eager,  as  in  the  case  of  Trivigiani  with  the  manuscripts 
of  Peter  Martyr,  to  gather  together  disjointed  ma- 
terials, and  fabricate  a  work  to  gratify  the  prevalent 
passion  of  the  day. 

In  the  various  edmons  of  the  letters  of  Vespucci, 
the  grossest  variations  and  inconsistencies  in  dates 
will  be  found,  evidently  the  errors  of  hasty  and  care- 
less publishers.  Several  of  these  have  been  corrected 
by  the  modern  authors  who  have  inserted  these  letters 
in  their  woiks.f  The  same  disregard  to  exactness 


*  The  first  suggestion  of  the  name  appears  to  have  been 
in  the  Latin  work  already  cited,  published  in  St.  Diez.  in 
Lorraine,  in  1507,  in  which  was  inserted  the  letter  of  Ves- 
pucci to  king  Rene.  The  author,  after  speaking  of  the 
other  three  parts  of  the  world,  Asia,  Africa,  and  Europe, 
recommends  that  the  fourth  shall  be  called  Amerigo,  or 
America,  afr  r  Vespucci,  whom  he  imagined  its  discoverer. 

Note  to  the  Revised  Edition,  1848. — Humboldt,  in  his 
EXAMEN  CRITIQUE,  published  in  Paris,  in  1837,  says : 
"  I  have  been  so  happy  as  to  discover,  very  recmtly,  the 
name  and  the  literary  relations  of  the  mysterious  parsonage 
who  (in  1507)  was  the  first  to  propose  the  name  of  America 
to  designate  the  new  continent,  and  who  concealed  himself 
under  the  Greciinized  name  of  Hylacomylas."  He  then, 
by  a  long  and  ingenious  investigation,  shows  that  the  real 
name  of  this  personage  was  Martin  Waldsefmiiller,  of 
Fribotirg,  an  eminent  cosmographer,  pationized  by  Rene, 
Duke  ot  Lorraine  ;  who,  no  doubt,  put  in  his  hands  the 
letter  received  by  him  from  Amerigo  Vespucci.  The  geo- 
graphical works  of  Waldseemiilier,  under  the  assumed 
nameof  Hylacomylas,  had  a  wide  c  rcnlation,  wrm  through 
repeated  editions,  and  propagated  the  use  of  the  name 
America  throughout  the  world.  There  is  no  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  this  application  of  the  name  was  in  anywise  sug- 
gested by  Amerigo  Vespucci.  It  appears  to  have  been 
entirely  gratuitous  on  the  part  of  Waldseemu  ler. 

t  An  instance  of  these  errors  may  be  cited  in  the  edition 
of  the  letter  of  Amerigo  Vespucci  to  king  Rene,  inserted 
by  Grinceus  in  his  Novus  Orbis,  in  1532.  In  this  Vespucci 
is  made  to  state  that  he  sailed  from  Cadiz,  May  20, 
MCCCCXCVII.  (1497),  that  he  was  eighteen  months  ab- 
sent, and  returned  to  Cadiz  October  15,  MCCCCXCIX. 
(1499),  which  would  constitute  an  absence  of  twenty-nine 


252 


APPENDIX. 


which  led  to  these  blunders  may  have  produced  the 
interpolation  of  this  voyage,  garbled  out  of  the  letters 
ol  Vespucci  and  the  accounts  of  other  voyagers.  This 
is  merely  suggested  as  a  possible  mode  of  accounting 
for  what  appears  so  decidedly  to  be  a  fabrication,  yet 
which  we  are  loath  to  attribute  to  a  man  of  the  good 
sense,  the  character,  and  the  reputed  merit  of  Ves- 
pucci. 

Alter  all,  this  is  a  question  more  of  curiosity  than 
of  real  moment,  although  it  is  one  of  those  perplexing 
points  about  which  grave  men  will  continue  to  write 
weary  volumes,  until  the  subject  acquires  a  factitious 
importance  from  the  mountain  of  controversy  heaped 
upon  it.  It  has  become  a  question  of  local  pride  with 
the  literati  of  Florence  ;  and  they  emulate  each  other 
with  patriotic  zeal,  to  vindicate  the  fame  of  their  dis- 
tinguished countryman.  This  zeal  is  laudable  when 
kept  within  proper  limits  ;  but  it  is  to  be  regretted  that 
some  of  them  have  so  far  been  heated  by  controversy 
as  to  become  irascible  against  the  very  memory  of  Co- 
lumbus, and  to  seek  to  disparage  his  general  fame,  as 
if  the  ruin  of  it  would  add  anything  to  the  reputation  of 
Vespucci.  This  is  discreditable  to  their  discernment  and 
their  liberality  ;  it  injures  their  cause,  and  shocks  the 
feelings  of  mankind,  who  will  not  willingly  see  a  name 
like  that  of  Columbus,  lightly  or  petulantly  assaile-A 
in  the  course  of  these  literary  contests.  It  is  a  name 
consecrated  in  history,  and  is  no  longer  the  property 
of  a  city,  or  a  state,  or  a  nation,  but  of  the  whole 
world. 

Neither  should  those  who  have  a  proper  sense  of  the 
merit  of  Columbus  put  any  part  of  his  great  renown 
at  issue  upon  this  minor  dispute.  Whether  or  not  he 
was  the  discoverer  of  Paria,  was  a  question  of  interest 
to  his  heirs,  as  a  share  of  the  government  and  revenues 
of  that  country  depended  upon  it  ;  but  it  is  of  no  im- 
portance to  his  fame.  In  fact,  the  European  who  first 
reached  the  main-land  of  the  New  World  was  most 
probably  Sebastian  Cabot,  a  native  of  Venice,  sailing  in 
the  employ  of  England.  In  1497  he  coasted  its  shores 
from  Labrador  to  Florida  ,  yet  the  English  have 
never  set  up  any  pretensions  on  his  account. 

The  glory  of  Columbus  does  not  depend  upon  the 
parts  of  the  country  he  visited  or  the  extent  of  coast 
along  which  he  sailed  ;  it  embraces  the  discovery  of 
the  whole  western  world.  WitJ^respect  to  him,  Ves- 
pucci is  as  Yafiez  Pinzon,  Bastides,  Ojeda,  Cabot,  and 
the  crowd  of  secondary  discoverers  who  followed  in 
his  track,  and  explored  the  realms  to  which  he  had 
led  the  way.  When  Columbus  first  touched  a  shore  of 
the  New  World,  even  though  a  frontier  island,  he  had 
achieved  his  enterprises  ;  he  had  accomplished  all  that 
was  necessary  to  his  fame  :  the  great  problem  of  the 
ocean  was  solved,  the  world  which  lay  beyond  its 
western  waters  was  discovered. 


No.  XL 

MARTIN   ALONZO   PINZON. 

IN  the  course  of  the  trial  in  the  fiscal  court,  between 
Don  Diego  and  the  crown,  an  attempt  was  made  to 
depreciate  the  merit  of  Columbus,  and  to  ascribe  the 
success  of  the  great  enterprise  of  discovery  to  the  in- 
telligence and  spirit  of  Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon.  It  was 
the  interest  of  the  crown  to  do  so,  to  justfy  itself  in 
withholding  from  the  heirs  of  Columbus  the  extent  of 
his  stipulated  reward.  The  examinations  of  witnesses 
in  this  trial  were  made  at  various  times  and  places,  and 
upon  a  set  of  interrogatories  formally  drawn  up  by 
order  of  the  fiscal.  They  took  place  upward  of 


months.  He  states  his  departure  from  Cadiz,  on  his 
second  voyage,  Sunday,  May  n,  MCCCCLXXX1X. 
(1489),  which  would  have  made  his  second  voyage  precede 
his  first  by  eight  years.  If  we  substitute  1499  for  1489,  the 
departure  on  his  second  voyage  would  still  precede  his 
return  from  his  first  by  five  months.  Canovai,  in  his 
edition,  has  altered  the  date  of  the  first  return  to  1498,  to 
limit  the  voyage  to  eighteen  months. 


twenty  years  after  the  first  voyage  of  Columbus,  and 
the  witnesses  testified  from  recollection. 

In  reply  to  one  of  the  interrogatories,  Arias  Perez 
Pinzon,  son  of  Martin  Alonzo,  declared,  that,  being 
once  in  Rome  with  his  father  on  commercial  affairs, 
before  the  time  of  the  discovery,  they  had  frequent 
conversations  with  a  person  learned  in  cosmography 
who  was  in  the  service  of  Pope  Innocent  VIII.,  and 
that  being  in  the  library  of  the  pope,  this  person 
showed  them  many  manuscripts,  from  one  of  which 
his  father  gathered  intimation  of  these  new  lands  ;  for 
there  was  a  passage  by  an  historian  as  old  as  the  time 
of  Solomon,  which  said,  "  Navigate  the  Mediterra- 
nean Sea  to  the  end  of  Spain  and  thence  towards  the 
setting  sun,  in  a  direction  between  north  and  south, 
until  ninety-five  degrees  of  longitude,  and  you  will 
find  the  land  of  Cipango,  fertile  and  abundant,  and 
equal  in  greatness  to  Africa  and  Europe."  A  copy  of 
this  writing,  he  added,  his  father  brought  from  Rome 
with  an  intention  of  going  in  search  of  that  land,  and 
frequently  expressed  such  determination  ;  and  that, 
when  Columbus  came  to  Palos  with  his  project  of  dis- 
covery, Martin  Alonzo  Pinzon  showed  him  the  man- 
uscript, and  ultimately  gave  it  to  him  just  before  they 
sailed. 

It  is  extremely  probable  that  this  manuscript,  of 
which  Arias  Perez  gives  so  vague  an  account  from 
recollection,  but  which  he  appears  to  think  the  main 
thing  that  prompted  Columbus  to  his  undertaking, 
was  no  other  than  the  work  of  Marco  Polo,  which,  at 
that  time,  existed  in  manuscript  in  most  of  the  Italian 
libraries.  Martin  Alonzo  was  evidently  acquainted 
with  the  work  of  the  Venetian,  and  it  would  appear, 
from  various  circumstances,  that  Colurr.  bus  had  a  copy 
of  it  with  him  in  his  voyages,  which  may  have  been 
the  manuscript  above  mentioned.  Columbus  had  long 
before,  however,  had  a  knowledge  of  the  work,  if  not 
by  actual  inspection,  at  least  through  his  correspond- 
ence with  Toscanelli  in  1474,  and  had  derived  from 
it  all  the  light  it  was  capable  of  furnishing,  before 
he  ever  came  to  Palos.  It  is  questionable,  also, 
whether  the  visit  of  Martin  Alonzo  to  Rome  was 
not  after  his  mind  had  been  heated  by  conversations 
with  Columbus  in  the  convent  of  La  Rabida.  The 
testimony  of  Arias  Perez  is  so  worded  as  to  leave  it 
in  doubt  whether  the  visit  was  not  in  the  very  year 
prior  to  the  discovery  :  "  fue  el  dicho  su  padre  a 
Roma  aquel  dicho  afio  antes  que  fuese  a  descubrir. " 
Arias  Perez  always  mentions  the  manuscript  as  hav- 
ing been  imparted  to  Columbus,  after  he  had  come  to 
Palos  with  an  intention  of  proceeding  on  the  dis- 
covery. 

Certain  witnesses  who  were  examined  on  behalf  of 
the  crown,  and  to  whom  specific  interrogatories  were 
put,  asserted,  as  has  already  been  mentioned  in  a 
note  to  this  work,  that  had  it  not  been  for  Martin 
Alonzo  Pinzon  and  his  brothers,  Columbus  would 
have  turned  back  for  Spain,  after  having  run  seven 
or  eight  hundred  leagues  ;  being  disheartened  at  not 
finding  land,  and  dismayed  by  the  mutiny  and  men- 
aces of  his  crew.  This  is  stated  by  two  or  three  as 
from  personal  knowledge,  and  by  others  from  hear- 
say. It  is  said  especially  to  have  occurred  on  the  6th 
of  October.  On  this  day,  according  to  the  journal  of 
Columbus,  he  had  some  conversation  with  Martin 
Alonzo,  who  was  anxious  that  they  should  stand  more 
to  the  south-west.  The  admiral  refused  to  do  so,  and 
it  is  very  probable  that  some  angry  words  may  have 
passed  between  them.  Various  disputes  appear  to 
have  taken  place  between  Columbus  and  his  colleagues 
respecting  their  route,  previous  to  the  discovery  of 
land  ;  in  one  or  two  instances  he  acceded  to  their 
wishes  and  altered  his  course,  but  in  general  he  was 
inflexible  in  standing  to  the  west.  The  Pinzons  also, 
in  all  probability,  exerted  their  influence  in  quelling 
the  murmurs  of  their  townsmen  and  encouraging  them 
to  proceed,  when  ready  to  rebel  against  Columbus. 
These  circumstances  may  have  become  mixed  up  in 
the  vague  recollections  of  the  seamen  who  gave  the 
foregoing  extravagant  testimony,  and  who  were  evi- 
dently disposed  to  exalt  the  merits  of  the  Pinzons  at 


APPENDIX. 


253 


the  expense  of  Columbus.  They  were  in  some  meas- 
ure prompted  also  in  their  replies  by  the  written  in- 
terrogatories put  by  order  of  the  fiscal,  which  specified 
the  conversations  said  to  have  passed  between  Colum- 
bus and  the  Pinzons,  and  notwithstanding  these  guides 
they  differed  widely  in  their  statements,  and  ran  into 
many  absurdities.  In  a  manuscript  record  in  posses- 
sion of  the  Pinzon  family,  I  have  even  read  the  as- 
sertion of  an  old  seaman, that  Columbus,  in  his  eager- 
ness to  compel  the  Pinzons  to  turn  back  to  Spain, 
fired  upon  their  ships,  but,  they  continuing  on,  he  was 
obliged  to  follow,  and  within  two  days  afterward 
discovered  the  island  of  Hispaniola. 

It  is  evident  the  old  sailor,  if  he  really  spoke  con- 
scientiously, mingled  in  his  cloudy  remembrance  the 
disputes  in  the  early  part  of  the  voyage,  about  alter- 
ing their  course  to  the  south-west,  and  the  desertion 
of  Martin  Alonzo,  subsequent  to  the  discovery  of  the 
Lucayos  and  Cuba,  when,  after  parting  company 
with  the  admiral,  he  made  the  island  of  Hispaniola. 

The  witness  most  to  be  depended  upon  as  to  these 
points  of  inquiry,  is  the  physician  of  Pales,  Garcia 
Fernandez,  a  man  of  education,  who  sailed  with  Mar- 
tin Alonzo  Pinzon  as  steward  of  his  ship,  and  of  course 
was  present  at  all  the  conversations  which  passed  be- 
tween the  commanders.  He  testifies  that  Martin 
Alonzo  urced  Columbus  to  stand  more  to  the  south- 
west, and  that  the  admiral  at  length  complied,  but, 
finding  no  land  in  that  direction,  they  turned  again  to 
the  west  ;  a  statement  which  completely  coincides 
with  the  journal  of  Columbus.  He  adds  that  the  ad- 
miral continually  comforted  and  animated  Martin 
Alonzo,  and  all  others  in  his  company.  (Siernpre  los 
consolaba  el  dicho  Almirante  esforzandolos  al  dicho 
Martin  Alonzo  e  a  todos  los  que  en  su  compania  iban.) 
When  the  physician  was  specifically  questioned  as  to 
the  conversations  pretended  to  have  passed  between 
the  commanders,  in  which  Columbus  expressed  a  de- 
sire to  turn  back  to  Spain,  he  referred  to  the  preceding 
statement  as  the  only  answer  he  had  to  make  to  these 
interrogatories. 

The  extravagant  testimony  before  mentioned  ap- 
pears never  to  have  had  any  weight  with  the  fiscal  ; 
and  the  accurate  historian  Mufioz,  who  extracted  all 
these  points  of  evidence  from  the  papers  of  the  law- 
suit, has  not  deemed  them  worthy  of  mention  in  his 
work.  As  these  matters,  however,  remain  on  record 
in  the  archives  of  the  Indies,  and  in  the  archives  of 
the  Pinzon  family,  in  both  of  which  I  have  had  a  full 
opportunity  of  inspecting  them,  I  have  thought  it  ad- 
visable to  make  these  few  observations  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  lest,  in  the  rage  for  research,  they  might  here- 
after be  drawn  forth  as  a  new  discovery,  on  the 
strength  of  which  to  impugn  the  merits  of  Columbus. 


No.  XII. 

RUMOR   OF  THE   PILOT   SAID    TO   HAVE    DIED    IN    THE 
HOUSE   OF   COLUMBUS. 

AMONG  the  various  attempts  to  injure  Columbus  by 
those  who  were  envious  of  his  fame,  was  one  intended 
to  destroy  all  his  merit  as  an  original  discoverer.  It 
was  said  that  he  had  received  information  of  the  exist- 
ence of  land  in  the  western  parts  of  the  ocean  from  a 
tempest-tossed  pilot,  who  had  been  driven  there  by 
violent  easterly  winds,  and  who,  on  his  return  to 
Europe,  had  died  in  the  house  of  Columbus,  leaving 
in  his  possession  the  chart  and  journal  of  his  voyage, 
by  which  he  was  guided  to  his  discovery. 

This  story  was  first  noticed  by  Oviedo,  a  contem- 
porary of  Columbus,  in  his  history  of  the  Indies,  pub- 
lished in  1535.  He  mentions  it  as  a  rumor  circulating 
among  the  vulgar,  without  foundation  in  truth. 

Fernando  Lopez  de  Gomara  first  brought  it  forward 
against  Columbus.  In  his  history  of  the  Indies,  pub- 
lished in  15  =  2,  he  repeats  the  rumor  in  the  vaguest 
terms,  manifestly  from  Oviedo,  but  without  the  con- 
tradiction given  to  it  by  that  author.  He  says  that 
the  name  and  country  of  the  pilot  were  unknown, 


some  terming  him  an  Andalusian.  sailing  between  the 
Canaries  and  Madeira  ;  others  a  Biscayan,  trading  to 
England  and  France  ;  and  others  a  Portuguese,  voy- 
aging between  Lisbon  and  Mina,  on  the  coast  of 
Guinea.  He  expresses  equal  uncertainty  whether  the 
pilot  brought  the  caravel  to  Portugal,  to  Madeira,  or 
to  one  of  the  Azores.  The  only  point  on  which  the 
circulators  of  the  rumor  are  agreed  was.  that  he  died 
in  the  house  of  Columbus.  Gomara  adds  that  by  this 
event  Columbus  was  led  to  undertake  his  voyage  to 
the  new  countries.* 

The  other  early  historians  who  mention  Columbus 
and  his  voyages,  and  were  his  contemporaries,  viz., 
Sabellicus,  Peter  Martyr,  Gustiniani,  Bernaldez,  com- 
monly called  the  curate  of  los  Palacios,  Las  Casas, 
Fernando,  the  son  of  the  admiral,  and  ihe  anonymous 
author  of  a  voyage  of  Columbus,  translated  from  the 
Italian  into  Latin  by  Madrignano,f  are  all  silent  in 
regard  to  this  report. 

Benzoni,  whose  history  of  the  New  World  was  pub- 
lished in  1565,  repeats  the  story  from  Gomara,  with 
whom  he  was  contemporary  ;  but  decidedly  ex- 
presses his  opinion,  that  Gomara  had  mingled  up 
much  falsehood  with  some  truth,  for  the  purpose  of 
detracting  from  the  fame  of  Columbus,  through  jeal- 
ousy that  any  one  but  a  Spaniard  should  enjoy  the 
honor  of  the  discovery.  \ 

Acosta  notices  the  circumstance  slightly  in  his  Nat- 
ural and  Moral  History  of  the  Indies,  published  in 
1591,  and  takes  it  evidently  from  Gomara. £ 

Mariana,  in  his  history  of  Spain,  published  in  1592, 
also  mentions  it,  but  expresses  a  doubt  of  its  truth, 
and  derives  his  information  manifestly  from  Gomara.  j 

Herrera,  who  published  his  history  of  the  Indies  in 
1601,  takes  no  notice  of  the  story.  In  not  noticing  it, 
he  may  be  considered  as  rejecting  it  ;  for  he  is  distin- 
guished for  his  minuteness,  and  was  well  acquainted 
with  Gomara's  history,  which  he  expressly  contra- 
dicts on  a  point  of  considerable  interest.^ 

Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  a  native  of  Cusco  in  Peru, 
revived  the  tale  with  very  minute  particulars,  in  his 
Commentaries  of  the  Incas,  published  in  1609.  He 
tells  it  smoothly  and  circumstantially  ;  fixes  the  date 
of  the  occurrence  1484,  "  one  year  more  or  less  ;" 
states  the  name  of  the  unfortunate  pilot,  Alonzo  San- 
chez de  Huelva  ;  the  destination  of  his  vessel,  from 
the  Canaries  to  Madeira  ;  and  the  unknown  land  to 
which  they  were  driven,  the  island  of  Hispaniola. 
The  pilot,  he  says,  landed,  took  an  altitude,  and 
wrote  an  account  of  all  he  saw,  and  all  that  had  oc- 
curred in  the  voyage.  He  then  took  in  wood  and 
water,  and  set  out  to  seek  his  way  home.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  returning,  but  the  voyage  was  long  and 
tempestuous,  and  twelve  died  of  hunger  and  fatigue, 
out  of  seventeen,  the  original  number  of  the  crew. 
The  five  survivors  arrived  at  Tercera,  where  they  were 
hospitably  entertained  by  Columbus,  but  a  1  died  in 
his  house  in  consequence 'of  the  hardships  they  had 
sustained  ;  the  pilot  was  the  last  that  died,  leaving  his 
host  heir  to  his  papers,  Columbus  kept  them  pro- 
foundly secret,  and  by  pursuing  the  route  therein  pre- 
scribed, obtained  the  credit  of  discovering  the  New 
World.** 

Such  are  the  material  points  of  the  circumstantial 
relation  furnished  by  Gaicilaso  de  la  Vega,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years  after  the  event.  In  regard  to 
authority,  he  recollects  to  have  heard  the  story  when 
he  was  a  child,  as  a  subject  of  conversation  between 


*  Gomara,  Hist.  Ind.,  cap.  14. 

t  Navigatio  Christophori  Columbi,  Madrignano  Inter- 
prete.  It  is  contained  in  a  collection  of  voyages  ca'led 
Novus  Orbis  Regionum,  edition  of  1555,  but  was  origi- 
nally published  in  Italian  as  written  by  Montalbodo  Fran- 
canzano  (or  Francapano  de  Montaldo),  in  a  collection  of 
vovaees  entitled  Ntiovo  Mundo.  in  Vicenza.  1507. 

I  Girolamo  Benzoni,  Hist,  del  Nuevo  Mundo,  lib.  i.  fo. 
12.  In  Venetia,  1572. 

6  Padre  Joseph  de  Acosta,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  i.  cap.  19. 

I  Juan  de  Mariana,  Hist.  Espana,  lib.  xxvi.  cap.  3. 

Tl  "Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  ii.  lib.  iii.  cap.  i. 
**  Commentarios  de  los  Incas,  lib.i.  cap.  3. 


254 


APPENDIX. 


his  father  and  the  neighbors,  and  he  refers  to  the  his- 
tories of  the  Indies,  by  Acosta  and  Gomara,  for  con- 
firmation. As  the  conversations  to  which  he  listened 
must  have  taken  place  sixty  or  seventy  years  after  the 
date  of  the  report,  there  had  been  sufficient  time  for 
the  vague  rumors  to  become  arranged  into  a  regular 
narrative,  and  thus  we  have  not  only  the  name,  coun- 
try, and  destination  of  the  pilot,  but  also  the  name  of 
the  unknown  land  to  which  his  vessel  was  driven. 

This  account  given  by  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega,  has 
been  adopted  by  many  old  historians,  who  have  felt  a 
confidence  in  the  peremptory  manner  in  which  he  re- 
lates it  and  in  the  authorities  to  whom  he  refers.* 
These  have  been  echoed  by  others  of  more  recent 
date  ;  and  thus  a  weighty  charge  of  fraud  and  impos- 
ture has  been  accumulated  against  Columbus, 
apparently  supported  by  a  crowd  of  respectable  ac- 
cusers. The  whole  charge  is  to  be  traced  to  Gomara, 
who  loosely  repeated  a  vague  rumor,  withput  noticing 
the  pointed  contradiction  given  to  it  seventeen  years 
before,  by  Oviedo,  an  ear-witness,  from  whose  book 
he  appears  to  have  actually  gathered  the  report. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  that  Gomara  bears  the  charac- 
ter, among  historians,  of  inaccuracy,  and  of  great 
credulity  in  adopting  unfounded  stories. f 

It  is  unnecessary  to  give  lurther  refutation  to  this 
charge,  especially  as  it  is  clear  thai  Columbus  com- 
municated his  idea  of  discovery  to  Paulo  Toscanelli 
of  Florence,  in  1474,  ten  years  previous  to  the  date 
assigned  by  Garcilaso  de  la  Vega  for  this  occurrence. 


No.    XIII. 

MARTIN    BEHEM. 

THIS  able  geographer  was  born  in  Nuremburg,  in 
Germany,  about  the  commencement  of  the  year  1430. 
His  ancestors  were  from  the  circle  of  Pilsner,  in  Bo- 
hemia, hence  he  is  called  by  some  writers  Martin  of 
Bohemia,  and  the  resemblance  of  his  own  name  to 
that  of  the  country  of  his  ancestors  frequently  occa- 
sions a  confusion  in  the  appellation. 

It  has  been  said  by  some  that  he  studied  under 
Philip  Bervalde  the  elder,  and  by  others  under  John 
Muller,  otherwise  called  Regiomontanus,  though  De 
Murr,  who  has  made  diligent  inquiry  into  his  history, 
discredits  both  assertions.  According  to  a  Correspond- 
ence between  Behem  and  his  uncle,  discovered  of  late 


*  Names  of  historians  who  either  adopted  this  story  in 
detail  or  the  charge  against  Columbus,  drawn  from  it. 
Bernardo  Aldrete,  Amiguedadde  Espana,  lib.  iv.-cap.  17, 

P-  567- 

Roderigo  Caro,  Antignedad,  lib.  iii.  cap.  76. 

Juan  de  Solorz.ino,  Ind.  Jure,  torn.  i.  lib.  i,  cap.  5. 

Fernando  Pizarro,  Varones  Illust.  del  Nuevo  Mundo, 
cap.  2. 

Agostino  Torniel,  Annal.  Sacr.,  torn.  i.  ann.  Mund., 
1931,  No.  48. 

Pet.  Damarez  or  De  Mariz,  Dial-  iv.  de  Var.  Hist.,  cap.  4. 

Gregoria  Garcia,  Orig.  de  los  Indies,  lib.  i.  cap.  4,  §  i. 

Juan  de  Torquemanda,  Monarch.  Ind.,  lib.  xviii.  cap.  I. 

John  Baptiste  Riccioli,  Geograf.  Reform.,  lib.  iii. 

To  this  list  of  old  authors  may  be  added  many  others  of 
more  recent  date. 

t  "Francisco  Lopez  de  Gomara,  Presbitero,  Sevillano, 
escribio  con  elegante  estilo  acerca  de  1* cosas  delas  Indies, 
pero  dexandose  llevar  de  falsas  narraciones."  Hijos  de 
Sevilla,  Numero  ii.  p.  42,  Let.  F.  The  same  is  stated  in 
Biblio  heca  Hispiiiia.  Nova,  lib.  i.  p.  437. 

"El  Francisco  Lopez  de  Gomara  escrivio  tantos  borro- 
nes  €  cosas  que  no  son  verdaderas,  de  que  ha  hecho  mu- 
cho  dano  a  muchos  escritores  e  coronistas,  que  despues  del 
Gomara  han  oscrito  en  las  cosas  de  la  Nueva  Espana  .  .  . 
es  porque  les  ha  hecho  errar  el  Gomara."  Bernal  Diaz  del 
Castillo,  Hist,  de  la  Conquest  de  la  Nueva  Espana,  Fin 
de  cap.  18. 

"  Tenia  Gomara  doctrina  y  estilo  .  .  .  pero  empleose 
en  ordinar  sin  discernimiento  lo  que  halld  escrito  por  sus 
antecesores,  y  dio  credito  a  pe'.ranas  no  solo  falsas  sino  in- 
verisimiles."  Juan  Bautista  Mufioz,  Hist.  N.  Mundo, 
Prologo,  p.  18. 


years  by  De  Murr,  it  appears  that  the  early  part  of 
his  life  was  devoted  to  commerce.  Some  have  given 
him  the  credit  of  discovering  the  island  of  Fayal,  but 
this  is  an  error,  arising  probably  from  the  circumstance 
that  Job  de  Huertar,  father-in  law  of  Behem,  colonized 
that  island  in  1466. 

He  is  supposed  to  have  arrived  at  Portugal  in  1481, 
while  Alphonso  V.  was  still  on  the  throne  ;  it  is  cer- 
tain that  shortly  afterward  he  was  in  high  repute  for 
his  science  in  the  court  of  Lisbon,  insomuch  that  he 
was  one  of  the  council  appointed  by  King  John  II.  to 
improve  the  art  of  navigation,  and  by  some  lie  has  re- 
ceived the  whole  credit  of  the  memorable  service  ren 
dered  to  commerce  by  that  council,  in  the  introduction 
of  the  astrolabe  into  nautical  use. 

In  1484  King  John  sent  an  expedition  under  Diego 
Cam,  as  Barros  calls  him,  Cano  according  to  others, 
to  prosecute  discoveries  along  the  coast  of  Africa.  In 
this  expedition  Behem  sailed  as  cosmographer.  They 
crossed  the  equinoctial  line,  discovered  the  coast  of 
Congo,  advanced  to  twenty -two  degrees  forty-five 
minutes  ot  south  latitude,*  and  erected  two  columns. 
on  which  were  engraved  the  arms  of  Portugal,  in  the 
mouth  of  the  River  /agra,  in  Africa,  which  thence, 
for  some  time,  took  the  name  of  the  River  of  Columns.} 

For  the  services  rendered  on  this  and  on  previous 
occasions,  it  is  said  that  Behem  was  knighted  by  King 
John  in  1485,  though  no  mention  is  made  of  such  a 
circumstance  in  any  of  the  contemporary  historians. 
The  principal  proof  of  his  having  received  this  mark 
of  distinction,  is  his  having  given  himself  the  title  on 
his  own  globe  of  Eqttes  Lttsitanns, 

In  1486  he  married  at  Fayal  the  daughter  of  Job  de 
Huertar,  and  is  supposed  to  have  remained  there  for 
some  years,  where  he  had  a  son  named  Martin,  born  in 
1489.  During  his  residence  at  Lisbon  and  Fayal,  it  is 
probable  the  acquaintance  took  place  between  him  and 
Columbus,  to  which  Herrera  and  others  allude  ;  and 
the  admiral  may  have  heard  from  him  some  of  the 
rumors  circulating  in  the  islands,  of  indications  of 
western  lands  floating  to  their  shores. 

In  1491  he  returned  to  Nuremburg  to  sec  his  fam- 
ily, and  while  there,  in  1492,  he  finished  a  terrestrial 
globe,  considered  a  masterpiece  in  those  days,  which 
he  had  undertaken  at  the  request  of  the  principal  mag- 
istrates of  his  native  city. 

In  1493  he  returned  to  Portugal,  and  from  thence 
proceeded  to  Fayal. 

In  1494  King  John  II.,  who  had  a  high  opinion  of 
him,  sent  him  to  Flanders  to  his  natural  son  Prince 
George,  the  intended  heir  of  his  crown.  In  the 
course  of  his  voyage  Behem  was  captured  and  carried 
to  England,  where  he  remained  for  three  months  de- 
tained by  illness.  Having  recovered,  he  again  put  to 
sea,  but  was  captured  by  a  corsair  and  canied  to 
France.  Having  ransomed  himself,  he  proceeded  to 
Antwerp  and  Bruges,  but  returned  almost  immediately 
to  Portugal.  Nothing  more  is  known  of  him  for  sever- 
al years,  during  which  time  it  is  supposed  he  remained 
with  his  family  in  Fayal,  too  old  to  make  further  voy- 
ages. In  1506  he  went  forth  from  Fayal  to  Lisbon, 
where  he  died. 

The  assertion  that  Behem  had  discovered  the  west- 
ern world  previous  to  Columbus,  in  the  course  of  the 
voyage  with  Cam,  was  founded  on  a  misinterpretation 
of  a  passage  interpolated  in  the  chronicle  of  Hartmann 
Schedel,  a  contemporary  writer.  This  passage  men- 
tions, that  when  the  voyagers  were  in  the  Southern 
Ocean  not  far  from  the  coast,  and  had  passed  ihe  line, 
they  came  into  another  hemisphere,  where,  when  they 
looked  toward  th«  east,  their  shadows  fell  toward  the 
south,  on  their  right  hand  ;  that  here  they  discovered 
a  new  world,  unknown  until  then,  and  which  for  many 
years  had  never  been  sought  except  by  the  Genoese, 
and  by  them  unsuccessfully. 

"  Hii  duo,  bono  deorumauspicio,  mare  meridionale 
sulcantes.  a  littore  non  longe  evagantes,  superato  cir- 
culo  equinoctiali,  in  alterum  orbem  excepti  sunt.  Ubi 


*  Vasconcelos,  lib.  4.       -f  Murr,  Notice  sur  M.  Behaim. 


APPENDIX. 


255 


ipsis  stantibus  orientem  versus,  umbra  ad  meridiem 
et  dextram  projiciebatur.  Aperuere  igitur  sua  indus- 
tria,  alium  orbem  hactenus  nobisincognitum  et  multis 
annis,  a  nullis  quam  Januensibus,  licet  frustra  temp- 
tatum." 

These  lines  are  part  of  a  passage  which  it  is  said  is 
interpolated  by  a  different  hand,  in  the  original  man- 
uscript of  the  chronicle  of  Schedel.  De  Murr  assures 
us  that  they  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  German  trans- 
lation of  the  book  by  George  Alt,  which  was  finished 
the  5th  October,  1493.  But  even  if  they  were,  they 
relate  merely  to  the  discovery  which  Diego  Cam  made 
of  the  southern  hemisphere,  previously  unknown,  and 
of  the  coast  of  Africa  beyond  the  equator,  all  which 
appeared  like  a  new  world,  and  as  such  was  talked 
of  at  the  time. 

The  Genoese  alluded  to,  who  had  made  an  unsuc- 
cessful attempt,  were  Antonio  de  Nolle  with  Barthol- 
omeo  his  brother,  and  Raphael  de  Nolle  his  nephew. 
Antonio  was  of  a  noble  family,  and,  for  some  disgust, 
left  his  country  and  went  to  Lisbon  with  his  before- 
mentioned  relatives  in  two  caravels  ;  sailing  whence 
in  the  employ  of  Portugal,  they  discovered  the  island 
of  St.  Jago.* 

This  interpolated  passage  of  Schedel  was  likewise 
inserted  into  the  work  De  Europa  sub  Frederico  III. 
of  j£neas  Silvius,  afterward  Pope  Pius  II.,  who  died 
in  1464,  long  before  the  voyage  in  question.  The 
misinterpretation  of  the  passage  first  gave  rise  to  the 
incorrect  assertion  that  Behem  had  discovered  the 
New  World  prior  to  Columbus  ;  as  if  it  were  possible 
such  a  circumstance  could  have  happened  without 
Behem's  laying  claim  to  the  glory  of  the  discovery, 
and  without  the  world  immediately  resounding  with 
so  important  an  event.  This  error  had  been  adopted 
by  various  authors  without  due  examination  ;  some 
of  whom  had  likewise  taken  from  Magellan  the  credit 
of  having  discovered  the  sirait  which  goes  by  his  name, 
and  had  given  it  to  Behem.  The  error  was  too  pal- 
pable to  be  generally  prevalent,  but  was  suddenly  re- 
vived in  the  year  1786  by  a  French  gentleman  of 
highly  respectable  character  of  the  name  of  Otto,  then 
resident  in  New  York,  who  addressed  a  letter  to  Dr. 
Franklin  to  be  submitted  to  the  Philosophical  Society 
of  Philadelphia,  in  which  he  undertook  to  establish 
the  title  of  Behem  to  the  discovery  of  the  New  World. 
His  memoir  was  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the 
American  Philosophical  Society,  vol.  ii.,  for  1786, 
article  No.  35,  and  has  been  copied  into  the  journals 
of  most  of  the  nations  of  Europe. 

The  authorities  cited  by  M.  Otto  in  support  of  his 
assertion  are  generally  fallacious,  and  for  the  most 
part  given  without  particular  specification.  His  asser- 
tion has  been  diligently  and  satisfactorily  refuted  by 
Don  Christoval  Cladera.  f 

The  grand  proof  of  M.  Otto  is  a  globe  which  Behem 
made  during  his  residence  in  Nuremburg,  in  1492,  the 
very  year  that  Columbus  set  out  on  his  first  voyage  of 
discovery.  This  globe,  according  to  M.  Otto,  is  still 
preserved  in  the  library  of  Nuremburg,  and  on  it  are 
painted  all  the  discoveries  of  Behem,  which  are  so 
situated  that  they  can  be  no  other  than  the  coast  of 
Brazil  and  the  straits  of  Magellan.  This  authority 
staggered  many,  and,  if  supported,  would  demolish 
the  claims  of  Columbus. 

Unluckily  for  M.  Otto,  in  his  description  of  the 
globe,  he  depended  on  the  inspection  of  a  correspond- 
ent. The  globe  in  the  library  of  Nuremburg  was 
made  in  1520,  by  John  Schoener,  professor  of  mathe- 
matics, $  long  after  the  discoveries  and  death  of  Colum- 
bus and  Behem.  The  real  globe  of  Behem,  made  in 
1492,  does  not  contain  any  of  the  islands  or  shores  of 
the  New  World,  and  thus  proves  that  he  was  totally 
unacquainted  with  them.  A  copy,  or  planisphere,  of 
Behem's  globe  is  given  by  Cladera  in  his  Investiga- 
tions. 


*  Barros,  decad.  i.  lib.  ii.  cap.  i.     Lisbon,  1552. 
t  Investigaciones  Historicas.     Madrid,  1794. 
j  Cladera,  Investig.  Hist.,  p.  115. 


No.   XIV. 
VOYAGES   OF  THE   SCANDINAVIANS. 


MANY  elaborate  dissertations  have  been  written  to 
prove  that  discoveries  were  made  by  the  Scandinavi- 
ans on  the  northern  coast  of  America  long  before  the 
era  of  Columbus  ;  but  the  subject  appears  still  to  be 
wrapped  in  much  doubt  and  obscurity. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  the  Norwegians,  as  early 
as  the  ninth  century,  discovered  a  great  tract  of  land 
to  the  west  of  Iceland,  which  they  called  Grand  Ice- 
land ;  but  this  has  been  pronounced  a  fabulous  tra- 
dition. The  most  plausible  account  is  one  given  by 
Snorro  Sturleson,  in  his  Saga  or  Chronicle  of  King 
Olaus.  According  to  this  writer,  one  Biorn  of  Iceland, 
sailing  to  Greenland  in  search  of  his  father,  from 
whom  he  had  been  separated  by  a  storm,  was  driven 
by  tempestuous  weather  far  to  the  south-west,  until  he 
came  in  sight  of  a  low  country,  covered  with  wood, 
with  an  island  in  its  vicinity.  The  weather  becoming 
favorable,  he  turned  to  the  north-east  without  landing, 
and  arrived  safe  at  Greenland.  His  account  of  the  coun- 
try he  had  beheld,  it  is  said,  excited  the  enterprise  of 
Leif,  son  of  Eric  Rauda  (or  Redhead),  the  first  settler 
of  Greenland.  A  vessel  was  fitted  out,  and  Leif  and 
Biorn  departed  alone  in  quest  of  this  unknown  land. 
They  found  a  rocky  and  sterile  island,  to  which  they 
gave  the  name  of  Helleland  ;  also  a  low  sandy  coun- 
try cohered  with  wood,  to  which  they  gave  the  name 
of  Markland  ;  and,  two  days  afterward,  they  observed 
a  continuance  of  the  coast,  with  an  island  to  the  north 
of  it.  This  last  they  described  as  fertile,  well  wooded, 
producing  agreeable  fruits,  and  particularly  grapes,  a 
fruit  with  which  they  were  unacquainted.  On  being 
informed  by  one  of  their  companions,  a  German,  of 
its  qualities  and  name,  they  called  the  country,  from 
it,  Vinland.  They  ascended  a  river,  well  stored  with 
fish,  particularly  salmon,  and  came  to  a  lake  from 
which  the  river  took  its  origin,  where  theypassed  the 
winter.  The  climate  appeared  to  them  mild  and 
pleasant  ;  being  accustomed  to  the  rigorous  climates 
of  the  north.  On  the  shortest  day,  the  sun  was  eight 
hours  above  the  horizon.  Hence  it  has  been  con- 
cluded that  the  country  was  about  the  4gth  degree  of 
north  latitude,  and  was  either  Newfoundland,  or  some 
part  of  the  coast  of  North  America  about  the  Gulf  of 
St.  Lawrence.*  It  is  added  that  the  relatives  of  Leif 
made  several  voyages  to  Vinland  ;  that  they  traded 
with  the  natives  for  furs  ;  and  that,  in  1121,  a  bishop 
named  Eric  went  from  Greenland  to  Vinland  to  con- 
vert the  inhabitants  to  Christianity.  From  this  time, 
says  Forster,  we  know  nothing  of  Vinland.  and  there 
is  every  appearance  that  the  tribe  which  still  exists  in 
the  interior  of  Newfoundland,  and  which  is  so  different 
from  the  other  savages  of  North  Ameiica.  both  in 
their  appearance  and  mode  of  living,  and  always  in  a 
state  of  warfare  with  the  Esquimaux  of  the  northern 
coast,  are  descendants  of  the  ancient  Normans. 

The  author  of  the  present  woik  has  not  had  the 
means  of  tracing  this  story  to  its  original  sources. 
He  gives  it  on  the  authority  of  M.  Malte-Brun,  and 
Mr.  Forster.  The  latter  extracts  it  from  the  Saga  or 
Chronicle  of  Snorro,  who  was  born  in  1179,  and 
wrote  in  1215  ;  so  that  his  account  was  formed  long 
after  the  event  is  said  to  have  taken  place.  Forster 
says  :  "  The  facts  which  we  report  have  been  collected 
from  a  great  number  of  Icelandic  manuscripts,  and 
transmitted  to  us  by  Torfams  in  his  two  woiks  entitled 
Veteris  Grcenlandise  Descriptio,  Hafnia,  1706,  and 
Historia  Winlandia?  Antiquae,  Hafnia,  1705."  Fors- 
ter appears  to  have  no  doubt  of  the  authenticity  of  the 
facts.  As  far  as  the  author  of  the  present  work  has 
had  experience  in  tracing  these  stories  of  early  dis- 
coveries of  portions  of  the  New  World,  he  has  gen- 
erally found  them  very  confident  deductions  drawn 
from  very  vague  and  questionable  facts.  Learned 
men  are  too  prone  to  give  substance  to  mere  shadows, 
when  they  assist  some  preconceived  theory.  Most 


*  Forster's  Northern  Voyages,  book  ii.  chap.  2. 


250 


APPENDIX. 


of  these  accounts,  when  divested  of  the  erudite  com- 
ments of  their  editors,  have  proved  little  better  than 
the  traditionary  fables,  noticed  in  another  part  of  this 
work,  respecting  the  imaginary  islands  of  St.  Boron- 
don,  and  of  the  Seven  Cities. 

There  is  no  great  improbability,  however,  that  such 
enterprising  and  roving  voyagers  as  the  Scandinavians 
may  have  wandered  to  the  northern  shores  of  America, 
about  the  coast  of  Labrador,  or  the  shores  of  New- 
foundland ;  and  if  the  Icelandic  manuscripts  said  to 
be  of  the  thirteenth  century  can  be  relied  upon  as  gen- 
uine, free  from  modern  interpolation,  and  correctly 
quoted,  they  would  appear  to  prove  the  fact.  But 
granting  the  truth  of  the  alleged  discoveries,  they  led 
to  no  more  result  than  would  the  interchange  of  com- 
munication between  the  natives  of  Greenland  and  the 
Esquimaux.  The  knowledge  of  them  appears  not  to 
have  extended  beyond  their  own  nation,  and  to  have 
been  soon  neglected  and  forgotten  by  themselves. 

Another  pretension  to  an  early  discovery  of  the 
American  continent  has  been  set  up,  founded  on  an 
alleged  map  and  narrative  of  two  brothers  of  the 
name  of  Zeno,  of  Venice  ;  but  it  seems  more  invalid 
than  those  just  mentioned.  The  following  is  the  sub- 
stance of  this  claim. 

Nicolo  Zeno,  a  noble  Venetian,  is  said  to  have  made 
a  voyage  to  the  north  in  1380,  in  a  vessel  fitted  out  at 
his  own  cost,  intending  to  visit  England  and  Flanders  ; 
but  meeting  with  a  terrible  tempest,  was  driven  for 
many  days  he  knew  not  whither,  until  he  was  cast 
away  upon  Friseland,  an  island  much  in  dispute  among 
geographers,  but  supposed  to  be  the  archipelago  of 
the  Ferroe  islands.  The  shipwrecked  voyagers  were 
assailed  by  the  natives  ;  but  rescued  by  Zichmni,  a 
prince  of  the  islands,  lying  on  the  south  side  of  Frise- 
iand,  and  duke  of  another  district  lying  over  against 
Scotland.  Zeno  entered  into  the  service  of  this  prince, 
and  aided  him  in  conquering  Friseland,  and  other 
northern  islands.  He  was  soon  joined  by  his  brother 
Antonio  Zeno,  who  remained  fourteen  years  in  those 
countries. 

During  his  residence  in  Friseland.  Antonio  Zeno 
wrote  to  his  brother  Carlo,  in  Venice,  giving  an  ac- 
count of  a  report  brought  by  a  certain  fisherman,  about 
a  land  to  the  westward.  According  to  the  tale  of  this 
mariner,  he  had  been  one  of  a  party  who  sailed  from 
Friseland  about  twenty-six  years  before,  in  four 
fishing-boats.  Being  overtaken  by  a  mighty  tempest, 
they  were  driven  about  the  sea  for  many  days,  until 
the  boat  containing  him«elf  and  six  companions  was 
cast  upon  an  island  called  Estotiland,  about  one  thou- 
sand miles  from  Friseland.  They  were  taken  by  the 
inhabitants,  and  carried  to  a  fair  and  populous  city, 
where  the  king  sent  for  many  interpreters  to  converse 
with  them,  but  none  that  they  could  understand,  until 
a  man  was  found  who  had  likewise  been  cast  away 
upon  the  coast,  and  who  spoke  Latin.  They  remained 
several  days  upon  the  island,  which  was  rich  and 
fruitful,  abounding  wiih  all  kinds  of  metals,  and 
especially  gold.*  There  was  a  high  mountain  in  the 
centre,  from  which  flowed  four  rivers  which  watered 
the  whole  country.  The  inhabitants  were  intelligent 
and  acquainted  with  the  mechanical  arts  of  Europe. 
They  cultivated  grain,  made  beer,  and  lived  in  houses 
built  of  stone.  There  were  Latin  books  in  the  king's 
library,  though  the  inhabitants  had  no  knowledge  of 
that  language.  They  had  many  cities  and  castles, 
and  carried  on  a  trade  with  Greenland  for  pitch,  sul- 
phur, and  peltry.  Though  much  given  to  navigation, 
they  were  ignorant  of  the  use  of  the  compass,  and 
finding  the  Friselanders  acquainted  with  it,  held  them 
in  great  esteem  ;  and  the  king  sent  them  with  twelve 
barks  to  visit  a  country  to  the  south,  called  Drogeo. 
They  had  nearly  perished  in  a  storm,  but  were  cast 
away  upon  the  coast  of  Drogeo.  They  found  the 
people  to  be  cannibals,  and  were  on  the  point  of  being 


*  This  account  is  taken  from  Hackluyt,  vol.  iii.  p.  123. 
The  passage  about  gold  and  other  metals  is  not  to  be 
found  in  the  original  Italian  of  Ramusio  (torn.  ii.  p.  23), 
aad  is  probably  an  interpolation. 


killed  and  devoured,  but  were  spared  on  account  of 
their  great  skill  in  fishing. 

The  fisherman  described  this  Drogeo  as  being  a 
country  of  vast  extent,  or  rather  a  new  world  ;  that 
the  inhabitants  were  naked  and  barbarous  ;  but  that 
far  to  the  south-west  there  was  a  more  civilized  region, 
and  temperate  climate,  where  the  inhabitants  had  a 
knowledge  of  gold  and  silver,  lived  in  cities,  erected 
splendid  temples  to  idols,  and  sacrificed  human  vic- 
tims to  them,  which  they  afterward  devoured. 

After  the  fisherman  had  resided  many  years  on  this 
continent,  during  which  time  he  had  passed  from  the 
service  of  one  chieftain  to  another,  and  traversed 
various  parts  of  it,  certain  boats  of  Estotiland  arrived 
on  the  coast  of  Drogeo.  The  fisherman  went  on 
board  of  them,  acted  as  interpreter,  and  followed  the 
trade  between  the  main-land  and  Estotiland  for  some 
time,  until  he  became  very  rich  :  then  he  fitted  out  a 
bark  of  his  own,  and  with  the  assistance  of  some  of 
the  people  of  the  island,  made  his  way  back,  across 
the  thousand  intervening  miles  of  ocean,  and  arrived 
safe  at  Friseland.  The  account  he  gave  of  these  coun- 
tries, determined  Zichmni,  the  prince  of  Fristland,  to 
send  an  expedition  thither,  and  Antonio  Zeno  \vas  to 
command  it.  Just  before  sailing,  the  fisherman,  who 
was  to  have  acted  as  guide,  died  ;  but  certain  mari- 
ners, who  had  accompanied  him  from  Estotiland,  were 
taken  in  his  place.  The  expedition  sailed  under  com- 
mand of  Zichmni  ;  the  Venetian,  Zeno,  merely  ac- 
companied it.  It  was  unsuccessful.  After  having 
discovered  an  island  called  Icaria.  where  they  met 
with  a  rough  reception  from  the  inhabitants,  and  were 
obliged  to  withdraw,  the  ships  were  driven  by  a  storm 
to  Greenland.  No  record  remains  of  any  further  pros- 
ecution of  the  enterprise. 

The  countries  mentioned  in  the  account  of  Zeno 
were  laid  down  on  a  map  originally  engraved  o>-. 
wood.  The  island  of  Estotiland  has  been  supposed 
by  M.  Malte-Brun  to  be  Newfoundland  ;  its  partially 
civilized  inhabitants  the  descendants  of  the  Scandi- 
navian colonists  of  Yinland  ;  and  the  Latin  books  in 
the  king's  library  to  be  the  remains  of  the  library  of 
the  Greenland  bishop,  who  emigrated  thither  in  1121. 
Drogeo,  according  to  the  same  conjecture,  was  Nova 
Scotia  and  New  England.  The  civilized  people  to  the 
south-west,  who  sacrificed  human  victims  in  rich 
temples  he  surmises  to  have  been  the  Mexicans,  or 
some  ancient  nation  of  Florida  or  Louisiana. 

The  premises  do  not  appear  to  warrant  this  deduc- 
tion. The  whole  story  abounds  with  improbabilities  ; 
not  the  least  of  which  is  the  civilization  prevalent 
among  the  inhabitants  ;  their  houses  of  stone,  their 
European  arts,  the  library  of  their  king,  no  traces  of 
which  were  to  be  found  on  their  subsequent  discovery. 
Not  to  mention  the  information  about  Mexico  pene- 
trating through  the  numerous  savage  tribes  of  a  vast 
continent.  It  is  proper  to  observe  that  this  account 
was  not  published  until  1558,  long  after  the  discovery 
of  Mexico.  It  was  given  to  the  world  by  Francisco 
Marcolini,  a  descendant  of  the  Zeni,  from  the  frag- 
ments of  letters  said  to  have  been  written  by  Antonio 
Zeno  to  Carlo  his  brother.  "  It  grieves  me,"  says 
the  editor,  "  that  the  book,  and  divers  other  writings 
concerning  these  matters,  are  miserably  lost  ;  for 
being  but  a  child  when  they  came  to  my  hands,  and 
not  knowing  what  they  were,  I  tore  them  and  rent 
them  to  pieces,  which  now  I  cannot  call  to  remem- 
brance but  to  my  exceeding  great  grief." 

This  garbled  statement  by  Marcolini,  derived  con- 
siderable authority  by  being  introduced  by  Abraham 
Ortelius,  an  able  geographer,  in  his  Theatrum  Orbis  ; 
but  the  whole  story  has  been  condemned  by  able  com- 
mentators as  a  gross  fabrication.  Mr.  Forster  resents 
this,  as  an  instance  of  obstinate  incredulity,  saying 
that  it  is  impossible  to  doubt  the  existence  of  the  coun- 
try of  which  Carlo,  Nicolo,  and  Antonio  Zeno  talk  ; 
as  original  acts  in  the  archives  of  Venice  prove  that 
the  chevalier  undertook  a  voyage  to  the  north  ;  that 


*  Hackluyt,  Collect,  vol.  iii.  p.  127. 


APPENDIX. 


257 


his  brother  Antonio,  followed  him  ;  that  Antonio  traced 
a  map,  which  he  brought  back  and  hung  up  in  his 
house,  where  it  remained  subject  to  public  examina- 
tion, until  the  time  of  Marcolini,  as  an  incontestable 
proof  of  the  truth  of  what  he  advanced.  Granting  all 
this,  it  merely  proves  that  Antonio  and  his  brother 
were  at  Friseland  and  Greenland.  Their  letters  never 
assert  that  Zeno  made  the  voyage  to  Estotiland.  The 
fleet  was  carried  by  a  tempest  to  Greenland,  after 
which  we  hear  no  more  of  him  ;  and  his  account  of 
Estotiland  and  Drogeo  rests  simply  on  the  tale  of  the 
fisherman,  after  whose  descriptions  his  map  must 
have  been  conjecturally  projected.  The  whole  story 
resembles  much  the  fables  circulated  shortly  after  the 
discovery  of  Columbus,  to  arrogate  to  other  nations 
and  individuals  the  credit  of  the  achievement. 

M.  Malte-Brun  intimates  that  the  alleged  discovery 
of  Vinland  may  have  been  known  to  Columbus  when 
he  made  a  voyage  in  the  North  Sea  in  1.177,*  and  that 
the  map  of  Zeno,  being  in  the  national  library  at  Lon- 
don, in  a  Danish  work,  at  the  time  when  Bartholo- 
mew Columbus  was  in  that  city,  employed  in  making 
maps,  he  may  have  known  something  of  it,  and  have 
communicated  it  to  his  brother.f  Had  M.  Malte- 
Brun  examined  the  history  of  Columbus  with  his  usual 
accuracy,  he  would  have  perceived  that,  in  his  corre- 
spondence with  Paulo  Toscanelli  in  1474,  he  had  ex- 
pressed his  intention  of  seeking  India  by  a  route  di- 
rectly to  the  west.  His  voyage  to  the  north  did  not 
take  place  until  three  years  afterward.  As  to  the 
residence  of  Bartholomew  in  London,  it  was  not  until 
after  Columbus  had  made  his  propositions  of  discovery 
to  Portugal,  if  not  to  the  courts  of  other  powers. 
Granting,  therefore,  that  he  had  subsequently  heard 
the  dubious  stories  of  Vinland,  and  of  the  fisherman's 
adventures,  as  related  by  Zeno,  or  at  least  by  Marco- 
lini, they  evidently  could  not  have  influenced  him  in 
his  great  enterprise.  His  route  had  no  reference  to 
them,  but  was  a  direct  western  course,  not  toward 
Vinland,  and  Estotiland,  and  Drogeo,  but  in  search 
of  Cipango,  and  Cathay,  and  the  other  countries  de- 
scribed by  Marco  Polo,  as  lying  at  the  extremity  of 
India. 

No.  XV. 

CIRCUMNAVIGATION   OF   AFRICA   BY  THE   ANCIENTS. 

THE  knowledge  of  the  ancients  with  respect  to  the 
Atlantic  coast  of  Africa  is  considered  by  modern  in- 
vestigators much  less  extensive  than  had  been  imag- 
ined ;  and  it  is  doubted  whether  they  had  any  practi- 
cal authority  for  the  belief  that  Africa  was  circumnav- 
igable.  The  alleged  voyage  of  Eudoxus  of  Cyzicus, 
from  the  Red  Sea  to  Gibraltar,  though  recorded  by 
Pliny,  Pomponius  Mela,  and  others,  is  given  entirely 
on  the  assertion  of  Cornelius  Nepos,  who  does  not 
tell  from  whence  he  derived  his  information.  Posi- 
donius  (cited  by  Strabo)  gives  an  entirely  different 
account  of  this  voyage,  and  rejects  it  with  contempt. | 

The  famous  voyage  of  Hanno,  the  Carthaginian,  is 
supposed  to  have  taken  place  about  a  thousand  years 
before  the  Christian  era.  The  Periplus  Hannonis  re- 
mains, a  brief  and  obscure  record  of  this  expedition, 
and  a  subject  of  great  comment  and  controversy.  By 
some  it  has  been  pronounced  a  fictitious  work,  fabri- 
cated among  the  Greeks,  but  its  authenticity  has  been 
ably  vindicated.  It  appears  to  be  satisfactorily 
proved,  however,  that  the  voyage  of  this  navigator 
has  been  greatly  exaggerated,  and  that  he  never  cir 
cumnavigated  the  extreme  end  of  Africa.  Mons.  de 
Bougainville  §  traces  his  route  to  a  promontory  which 
he  named  the  West  Horn,  supposed  to  be  Cape 
Palmas,  about  five  or  six  degrees  north  of  the  equinoc 
tial  line,  whence  he  proceeded  to  another  promon 

*  Malte-Brun,  Hist,  de  Geog.,  torn.  i.  lib.  xvii. 

t  Idem,  Geog.  Universelle,  torn.  xiv.  Note  sur  la  de 
COuverte  de  1'Amerique. 

$  Gosselin,  Recherches  sur  la  Geographic  des  Anciens 
torn.  i.  p.  162,  etc. 

§  Memoirs  de  1'Acad.  des  Inscript.  torn.  xxvi. 


ory,   under  the  same  parallel,   which  he  called  the 
South   Horn,   supposed  to  be  Cape  de  Tres   Puntas. 
VIons.  Gosselin,  however,  in  his  Researches  into  the 
eography  of  the  Ancients  (tome  i,  p.  162,  etc.),  after 
rigid  examination  of  the  Periplus  of  Hanno,  deter- 
mines that  he  had  not  sailed  farther  south   than  Cape 

n.  Pliny,  who  makes  Hanno  range  the  whole  coast 
of  Africa,  from  the  straits  to  the  confines  of  Arabia, 
lad  never  seen  his  Periplus,  but  took  his  idea  from 
he  works  of  Xenophon  of  Lampsaco.  The  Greeks 
surcharged  the  narration  of  the  voyager  with  all  kinds 
of  fables,  and  on  their  unfaithful  copies,  Strabo 
ounded  many  of  his  assertions.  According  to  M. 
josselin,  the  itineraries  of  Hanno,  of  Scylax,  Poly- 
aius,  Statius,  Sebosus  and  ]uba  ;  the  recitals  of  Plato, 
of  Aristotle,  of  Pliny,  of  Plutarch,  and  the  tables  of 
Ptolemy,  all  bring  us  to  the  same  results,  and,  not- 
withstanding their  apparent  contradictions,  fix  the 
.imit  of  southern  navigation  about  the  neighborhood 
of  Cape  Non,  or  Cape  Bojador. 

The  opinion  that  Africa  was  a  peninsula,  which  ex- 
sted  among  the  Persians,  the  Egyptians,  and  perhaps 
the  Greeks,  several  centuries  prior  to  the  Christian 
era,  was  not,  in  his  opinion,  founded'upon  any  known 
facts  ;  but  merely  on  conjecture,  from  considering 
the  immensity  and  unity  of  the  ocean  ;  or  perhaps  on 
more  ancient  traditions  ;  or  on  ideas  produced  by  the 
Carthaginian  discoveries,  beyond  the  Straits  of  Gib- 
raltar, and  those  of  the  Egyptians  beyond  the  Gulf  of 
Arabia.  He  thinks  that  there  was  a  very  remote 
period,  when  geography  was  much  more  perfect  than 
in  the  time  of  the  Phenicians  and  the  Greeks,  whose 
knowledge  was  but  confused  traces  of  what  had  pre- 
viously been  better  known. 

The"  opinion  that  the  Indian  Sea  joined  the  ocean 
was  admitted  among  the  Greeks,  and  in  the  school  of 
Alexandria,  until  the  time  of  Hipparchus.  It  seemed 
authorized  by  the  direction  which  the  coast  of  Africa 
took  after  Cape  Aromata,  always  tending  westward, 
as  far  as  it  had  been  explored  by  navigators. 

It  was  supposed  that  the  western  coast  of  Africa 
rounded  off  to  meet  the  eastern,  and  that  the  whole 
was  bounded  by  the  ocean,  much  to  the  noithward  of 
the  equator.  Such  was  the  opinion  of  Crates,  who 
lived  in  the  time  of  Alexander  ;  of  Aratus,  of  Clean- 
thes,  of  Cleomedes,  of  Strabo,  of  -Pomponius  Mela,  of 
Macrobius,  and  many  others. 

Hipparchus  proposed  a  different  system,  and  led 
the  world  into  an  error,  which  for  a  long  time  re- 
tarded the  maritime  communication  of  Europe  and 
India.  He  supposed  that  the  seas  were  separated 
into  distinct  basins,  and  that  the  eastern  shores  of 
Africa  made  a  circuit  round  the  Indian  Sea,  so  as  to 
join  those  of  Asia  beyond  the  mouth  of  the  Ganges. 
Subsequent  discoveries,  instead  of  refuting  this  error, 
only  placed  the  junction  of  the  continents  at  a  greater 
distance.  Marinus  of  Tyre,  and  Ptolemy,  adopted 
this  opinion  in  their  works,  and  illustrated  it  in  their 
maps,  which  for  centuries  controlled  the  general  be- 
lief of  mankind,  and  perpetuated  the  idea  that  Africa 
extended  onward  to  the  south  pole,  and  that  it  was 
impossible  to  arrive  by  sea  at  the  coasts  of  India. 
Still  there  were  geographers  who  leaned  to  the  more 
ancient  idea  of  a  communication  between  the  Indian 
Sea  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  It  had  its  advocates  in 
Spain,  and  was  maintained  by  Pomponius  Mela,  and 
by  Isidore  of  Seville.  It  was  believed  also  by  some 
of  the  learned  in  Italy,  in  the  thirteenth,  fourteenth, 
and  fifteenth  centuries  ;  and  thus  was  kept  alive  until 
it  vas  acted  upon  so  vigorously  by  Prince  Henry  cf 
Portugal,  and  at  length  triumphantly  demonstrated  by 
Vasco  de  Gama,  in  his  circumnavigation  of  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope. 

No.  XVI. 

OF  THE   SHIPS   OF   COLUMBUS. 

IN  remarking  on  the  smallness  of  the  vessels  with 
which  Columbus  made  his  first  voyage,  Dr.  Robertson 
observes  that,  "  in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  bulk  and 


258 


APPENDIX. 


construction  of  vessels  were  accommodated  to  the 
short  and  easy  voyages  along  the  coast,  which  they 
were  accustomed  to  perform. ' '  We  have  many  proofs, 
however,  that  even  anterior  to  the  fifteenth  century, 
there  were  large  ships  employed  by  the  Spaniards,  as 
well  as  by  other  nations.  In  an  edict  published  in 
Barcelona,  in  1354,  by  Pedro  IV.,  enforcing  various 
regulations  for  the  security  of  commerce,  mention  is 
made  of  Catalonian  merchant  ships  of  two  and  three 
decks  and  from  Sooo  to  12,000  quintals  burden. 

In  1419,  Alonzo  of  Aragon  hired  several  merchant 
ships  to  transport  artillery,  horses,  etc.,  from  Barcelona 
to  Italy,  among  which  were  two,  each  carrying  one 
hundred  and  twenty  horses,  which  it  is  computed 
would  require  a  vessel  of  at  least  600  tons. 

In  1463,  mention  is  made  of  a  Venetian  ship  of  700 
tons  which  arrived  at  Barcelona  from  England,  laden 
with  wheat. 

In  1497,  a  Castilian  vessel  arrived  there  being  of 
12,000  quintals  burden.  These  arrivals  incidentally 
mentioned  among  others  of  similar  size,  as  happening 
at  one  port,  show  that  large  ships  were  in  use  in 
those  days.*  Indeed,  at  the  time  of  fitting  out  the  sec- 
ond expedition  of  Columbus,  there  were  prepared  in  the 
port  of  Bermeo,  a  Caracca  of  1250  tons,  and  four  ships 
of  from  150  to  450  tons  burden.  Their  destination, 
however,  was  altered,  and  they  were  sent  to  convoy 
Muley  Boabdil,  the  last  Moorish  king  of  Granada, 
from  the  coast  of  his  conquered  territory  to  Africa. f 

It  was  not  for  want  of  large  vessels  in  the  Spanish 
ports,  therefore,  that  those  of  Columbus  were  of  so 
small  a  size.  He  considered  them  best  adapted  to 
voyages  of  discovery,  as  they  required  but  little  depth 
of  water,  and  therefore  could  more  easily  and  safely 
coast  unknown  shores,  and  explore  bays  and  rivers. 
He  had  some  purposely  constructed  of  a  very  small 
size  for  this  service  ;  such  was  the  caravel,  which  in 
his  third  voyage  he  dispatched  to  look  out  for  an 
opening  to  the  sea  at  the  upper  part  of  the  Gulf  of 
Paria,  when  the  water  grew  too  shallow  for  his  vessel 
of  one  hundred  tons  burden. 

The  most  singular  circumstance  with  respect  to  the 
ships  of  Columbus  is  that  they  should  be  open  vessels  : 
for  it  seems  difficult  to  believe  that  a  voyage  of  such 
extent  and  peril  should  be  attempted  in  barks  of  so 
frail  a  construction.  This,  however,  is  expressly 
mentioned  by  Peter  Martyr,  in  his  Decades  written 
at  the  time  ;  and  mention  is  made  occasionally,  in  the 
memoirs  relative  to  the  voyages  written  by  Columbus 
and  his  son.  of  certain  of  his  vessels  being  without 
decks.  He  sometimes  speaks  of  the  same  vessel  as  a 
ship  and  a  caravel.  There  has  been  some  discussion 
of  late  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  the  term  caravel. 
The  Chevalier  Bossi,  in  his  dissertations  on  Colum- 
bus, observes  that  in  the  Mediterranean  caravel  des- 
ignates the  largest  class  of  ships  of  war  among  the 
Mussulmans,  and  that  in  Portugal  it  means  a  small 
vessel  of  from  120  to  140  tons  burden  ;  but  Columbus 
sometimes  applies  it  to  a  vessel  of  forty  tons. 

Du  Cange,  in  his  glossary,  considers  it  a  word  of 
Italian  origin.  Bossi  thinks  it  either  Turkish  or 
Arabic,  and  probably  introduced  into  the  European 
languages  by  the  Moors.  Mr.  Edward  Everett,  in  a 
note  to  his  Plymouth  oration,  considers  that  the  true 
origin  of  the  word  is  given  in  "  Ferrari!  Origines 
Linguae  Italics,"  as  follows:  "  Caravela,  navigii 
rninoris  genus.  Lat.  Carabus  :  Greece  Karabron." 

That  the  word  caravel  was  intended  to  signify  a 
vessel  of  a  small  size  is  evident  from  a  naval  classifi- 
cation made  by  King  Alonzo  in  the  middle  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  Jn  the  first  class  he  enumerates 
Araos,  or  large  ships  which  go  only  with  sails,  some 
of  which  have  two  masts,  and  others  but  one.  In  the 
second  class  smaller  vessels  as  Carracas,  Fustas,  Bal- 
lenares,  Pinazas,  Carabelas,  etc.  In  the  third  class 
vessels  with  sails  and  oars,  as  Galleys,  Galeots,  Tar- 
dantes,  and  Saetias.}: 


*  Capmany,  Questiones  Criticas. 
t  Archives  de  Ind.  en  Sevilla. 
t  Capmany,  Quest.  Grit. 


Que;t.  6. 


Bossi  gives  a  copy  of  a  letter  written  by  Columbus 
to  Don  Raphael  Xansis,  treasurer  of  the  King  of 
Spain,  an  edition  of  which  exists  in  the  public  library 
at  Milan.  With  this  letter  he  gives  several  wood-cuts 
of  sketches  made  with  a  pen,  which  accompanied  this 
letter,  and  which  he  supposes  to  have  been  from  the 
hand  of  Columbus.  In  these  are  represented  vessels 
which  are  probably  caravels.  They  have  high  bows 
and  sterns,  with  castles  on  the  latter.  They  have 
short  masts  with  large  square  sails.  One  of  them, 
besides  sails,  has  benches  of  oars,  and  is  probably  in- 
tended to  represent  a  galley.  They  are  all  evidently 
vessels  of  small  size,  and  light  construction. 

In  a  work  called  "  Recherches  sur  le  Commerce," 
published  in  Amsterdam,  1799,  is  a  plate  representing 
a  vessel  of  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  century.  It 
is  taken  from  a  picture  in  the  church  of  St.  Giovanni 
e  Paolo  in  Venice.  The  vessel  bears  much  resem- 
blance to  those  said  to  have  been  sketched  by  Colum- 
bus ;  it  has  two  masts,  one  of  which  is  extremely 
small  with  a  latine  sail.  The  mainmast  has  a  large 
square  sail.  The  vessel  has  a  high  poop  and  prow,  is 
decked  at  each  end,  and  is  open  in  the  centre. 

It  appears  to  be  the  fact,  therefore,  that  most  of  the 
vessels  with  which  Columbus  undertook  his  long  and 
perilous  voyages,  were  of  this  light  and  frail  construc- 
tion, and  little  superior  to  the  small  craft  which  ply 
on  rivers  and  along  coasts  in  modern  days. 


No.  XVII. 

ROUTE   OF   COLUMBUS   IN   HIS   FIRST   VOYAGE.* 

IT  has  hitherto  been  supposed  that  one  of  the 
Bahama  Islands,  at  present  bearing  the  name  of  San 
Salvador,  and  which  is  also  known  as  Cat  Island, 
was  the  first  point  where  Columbus  came  in  contact 
with  the  New  World.  Navarrete,  however,  in  his 
introduction  to  the  "  Collection  of  Spanish  Voyages 
and  Discoveries,"  recently  published  at  Madrid,  hac 
endeavored  to  show  that  it  must  have  been  Turk's 
Island,  one  of  the  same  group,  situated  about  100 
leagues  (of  20  to  the  degree)  S.  E.  of  San  Salvador. 
Great  care  has  been  taken  to  examine  candidly  the 
opinion  of  Navarrete,  comparing  it  with  the  journal  of 
Columbus,  as  published  in  the  above-mentioned  work, 
and  with  the  personal  observations  of  the  writer  of 
this  article,  who  has  been  much  among  these  islands. 

Columbus  describes  Guanahani,  on  which  he  landed, 
and  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  San  Salvador,  as 
being  a  beautiful  island,  and  very  large  ;  as  being 
level,  and  covered  with  forests,  many  of  the  trees  of 
which  bore  fruit  ;  as  having  abundance  of  fresh  water, 
and  a  large  lake  in  the  centre  ;  that  it  was  inhabited 
by  a  numerous  population  :  that  he  proceeded  for  a 
considerable  distance  in  his  boats  along  the  shore, 
which  trended  to  the  N.N.E. ,  and  as  he  passed,  was 
visited  by  the  inhabitants  of  several  villages.  Turk's 
Island  does  not  answer  to  this  description. 

Turk's  Island  is  a  low  key  composed  of  sand  and 
rocks,  and  lying  north  and  south,  less  than  two  leagues 
in  extent.  It  is  utterly  destitute  of  wood,  and  has  not 
a  single  tree  of  native  growth.  It  has  no  fresh  water, 
the  inhabitants  depending  entirely  on  cisterns  and 
casks  in  which  they  preserve  the  rain  ;  neither  has  it 
any  lake,  but  several  salt  ponds,  which  furnish  the 
sole  production  of  the  island.  Turk's  Island  cannot 
be  approached  on  the  east  or  north-east  side,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  reef  that  surrounds  it.  It  has  no  har- 
bor, but  has  an  open  road  on  the  west  side,  which 
vessels  at  anchor  there  have  to  leave  and  put  to  sea 
whenever  the  wind  comes  from  any  other  quarter  than 
that  of  the  usual  trade  breeze  of  N.E  which  blows 
over  the  island  ;  for  the  shore  is  so  bold  that  there  is 

*  The  author  of  this  work  is  indebted  for  this  able  ex- 
amination of  the  route  of  Columbus  to  an  officer  of  the 
navy  of  the  United  States,  whose  name  he  regrets  the  not 
being  at  liberty  to  mention.  He  has  been  greatly  bene- 
fited, in  various  parts  of  this  history,  by  nautical  information 
from  the  same  intelligent  source. 


APPENDIX. 


259 


no  anchorage  except  close  to  it  ;  and  when  the  wind 
ceases  to  blow  from  the  land,  vessels  remaining  at 
their  anchors  would  be  swung  against  the  rocks,  or 
forced  high  upon  the  shore,  by  the  terrible  surf  that 
then  prevails.  The  unfrequented  road  of  the  Hawk's 
Nest,  at  the  south  end  of  the  island,  is  even  more 
dangerous.  This  island,  which  is  not  susceptible  of 
the  slightest  cultivation,  furnishes  a  scanty  subsistence 
to  a  few  sheep  and  horses.  The  inhabitants  draw  all 
their  consumption  from  abroad,  with  the  exception  of 
fish  and  turtle,  which  are  taken  in  abundance,  and  sup- 
ply the  principal  food  of  the  slaves  employed  in  the 
salt-works.  The  whole  wealth  of  the  island  consists 
in  the  produce  of  the  salt-ponds,  and  in  the  salvage 
and  plunder  of  the  many  wrecks  which  take  place  in 
the  neighborhood.  Turk's  Island,  therefore,  would 
never  be  inhabited  in  a  savage  state  of  society,  where 
commerce  does  not  exist,  and  where  men  are  obliged 
to  draw  their  subsistence  from  the  spot  which  they 
people. 

Again  :  when  about  to  leave  Guanahani,  Colum- 
bus was  at  a  loss  to  choose  which  to  visit  of  a  great 
number  of  islands  in  sight.  Now  there  is  no  land 
visible  from  Turk's  Island,  excepting  the  two  salt  keys 
which  lie  south  of  it,  and  with  it  form  the  group  known 
as  Turk's  Islands.  The  journal  of  Columbus  does 
not  tell  us  what  course  he  steered  in  going  from 
Guanahani  to  Concepcion,  but  he  states  that  it  was 
five  leagues  distant  from  the  former,  and  that  the  cur- 
rent was  against  him  in  sailing  to  it  :  whereas  the  dis- 
tance from  Turk's  Island  to  the  Gran  Caico,  sup- 
posed by  Navarrete  to  be  the  Concepcion  of  Colum- 
bus, is  nearly  double,  and  the  current  sets  constantly 
to  the  W.N.W.  among  these  islands,  which  would  be 
favorable  in  going  from  Turk's  Island  to  the  Caicos. 

From  Concepcion  Columbus  went  next  to  an  island 
which  he  saw  nine  leagues  off  in  a  westerly  direction, 
to  which  he  gave  the  name  of  Fernandina.  This 
Navarrete  takes  to  be  Little  Inagua,  distant  no  less 
than  twenty  two  leagues  from  Gran  Caico.  Besides, 
in  going  to  Little  Inagua,  it  would  be  necessary  to 
pass  quite  c'lose  to  three  islands,  each  larger  than 
Turk's  Island,  none  of  which  are  mentioned  in  the 
journal.  Columbus  describes  Fernandina  as  stretch- 
ing twenty-eight  leagues  S.E.  and  N.VV.  ;  whereas 
Little  Inagua  has  its  greatest  length  of  four  leagues  in 
a  S.W.  direction.  In  a  word,  the  description  of  Fer- 
nandina has  nothing  in  common  with  Little  Inagua. 
From  Fernandina  Columbus  sailed  S.E.  to  Isa- 
bella, which  Navarrete  takes  to  be  Great  Inagua  ; 
whereas  this  latter  bears  S.W.  from  Little  Inagua,  a 
course  differing  90°  from  the  one  followed  by  Colum- 
bus. Again  :  Columbus,  on  the  aoth  of  November, 
takes  occasion  to  say  that  Guanahani  was  distant  eight 
leagues  from  Isabella  ;  whereas  Turk's  Island  is 
thirty-five  leagues  from  Great  Inagua. 

Leaving  Isabella,  Columbus  stood  W.S.W.  for  the 
island  of  Cuba,  and  fell  in  with  the  Islas  Arenas. 
This  course  drawn  from  Gieat  Inagua  would  meet  the 
coast  of  Cuba  about  Port  Nipe  :  whereas  Navarrete 
supposes  that  Columbus  next  fell  in  with  the  keys 
south  of  the  Jumentos,  and  which  bear  W.N.W.  from 
Inagua  ;  a  course  differing  45°  from  the  one  steered 
by  the  ships.  After  sailing  for  some  time  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Cuba,  Columbus  finds  himself,  on  the  I4th 
of  November,  in  the  sea  of  Nuestra  Senora,  sur- 
rounded by  so  many  islands  that  it  was  impossible  to 
count  them  :  whereas,  on  the  same  day,  Navarrete 
places  him  off  Cape  Moa,  where  there  is  but  one  small 
island,  and  more  than  fifty  leagues  distant  from  any 
group  that  can  possibly  answer  the  description. 

Columbus  informs  us  that  San  Salvador  was  distant 
from  Port  Principe  forty-five  leagues  :  whereas  Turk's 
Island  is  distant  from  the  point,  supposed  by  Navarrete 
to  be  the  same,  eighty  leagues. 

On  taking  leave  of  Cuba,  Columbus  remarks  that 
he  had  followed  its  coast  for  an  extent  of  120  leagues. 
Deducting  twenty  leagues  for  his  having  followed  its 
windings,  there  still  remain  100.  Now,  Navarrete 
only  supposes  htm  to  have  coasted  this  island  an  ex- 
tent of  seventy  leagues. 


Such  are  the  most  important  difficulties  which  the 
theory  of  Navarrete  offers,  and  which  appear  insur- 
mountable. Let  us  now  take  up  the  route  of  Colum- 
bus as  recorded  in  his  journal,  and,  with  the  best 
charts  before  us,  examine  how  it  agrees  with  the  pop- 
ular and  traditional  opinion,  that  he  first  landed  on 
the  island  of  San  Salvador. 

We  learn  from  the  journal  of  Columbus  that,  on  the 
nth  of  October,  1492,  he  continued  steering  W.S.W. 
until  sunset,  when  he  returned  to  his  old  course  of 
west,  the  vessels  running  at  the  rate  of  three  leagues 
an  hour.  At  ten  o'clock  he  and  several  of  his  crew 
saw  a  light,  which  seemed  like  a  torch  carried  about 
on  land.  He  continued  running  on  four  hours  longer, 
and  had  made  a  distance  of  twelve  leagues  farther 
west,  when  at  two  in  the  morning  land  was  discovered 
ahead,  distant  two  leagues.  The  twelve  leagues  which 
they  ran  since  ten  o'clock,  with  the  two  leagues  dis- 
tance from  the  land,  form  a  total  corresponding  essen- 
tially with  the  distance  and  situation  of  Watling's 
Island  from  San  Salvador  ;  and  it  is  thence  presumed 
that  the  light  seen  at  that  hour  was  on  Watling's 
Island,  which  they  were  then  passing.  Had  the  light 
been  seen  on  land  ahead,  and  they  had  kept  running 
on  four  hours  at  the  rate  of  three  leagues  an  hour, 
they  must  have  run  high  and  dry  on  shore.  As  the 
admiral  himself  received  the  royal  reward  for  having 
seen  this  light,  as  the  first  discovery  of  land,  Watling's 
Island  is  believed  to  be  the  point  for  which  this  pre- 
mium was  granted. 

On  making  land,  the  vessels  were  hove  to  until  day- 
light of  the  same  I2lh  of  October  ;  they  then  anchored 
off  an  island  of  great  beauty,  covered  with  forests, 
and  extremely  populous. 

It  was  called  Guanahani  by  the  natives,  but  Colum- 
bus gave  it  the  name  of  San  Salvador.  Exploring  its 
coast,  where  it  ran  to  the  N.N.E.,  he  found  a  harbor 
capable  of  sheltering  any  number  of  ships.  This  de- 
scription corresponds  minutely  with  the  S.E.  part  of 
the  island  known  as  San  Salvador,  or  Cat  Island,  which 
lies  east  and  west,  bending  at  its  eastern  extremity  to 
the  N.N.E.,  and  has  the  same  verdant  and  fertile  ap- 
pearance. The  vessels  had  piobably  drifted  into  this 
bay  at  the  S.E.  side  of  San  Salvador,  on  the  morning 
of  the  I2th,  while  lying  to  for  daylight  ;  nor  did  Colum- 
bus, while  remaining  at  the  island,  or  when  sailing 
from  it,  open  the  land  so  as  to  discover  that  what  he 
had  taken  for  its  whole  length  was  but  a  bend  at  one 
end  of  it,  and  that  the  main  body  of  the  island  lay  be- 
hind, stretching  far  to  the  N.W.  From  Guanahani, 
Columbus  saw  so  many  other  islands  that  he  was  at  a 
loss  which  next  to  visit.  The  Indians  signified  that 
they  were  innumerable,  and  mentioned  the  names  of 
above  a  hundred.  He  determined  to  go  to  the  largest 
in  sight,  which  appeared  to  be  about  five  leagues  dis- 
tant ;  some  of  the  others  were  nearer,  and  some  fur- 
ther off.  The  island  thus  selected,  it  is  presumed, 
was  the  present  island  of  Concepcion  ;  and  that  the 
others  were  that  singular  belt  of  small  islands,  known 
as  La  Cadena  (or  the  chain),  stretching  past  the  island 
of  San  Salvador  in  a  S.E.  and  N.W.  direction  ;  the 
nearest  of  the  group  being  nearer  than  Concepcion, 
while  the  rest  are  more  distant. 

Leaving  San  Salvador  in  the  afternoon  f>i  the  I4th 
for  the  island  thus  selected,  the  ships  lay  by  during 
the  night,  and  did  not  reach  it  until  late  in  the  follow- 
ing day,  being  retarded  by  adverse  currents.  Colum- 
bus gave  this  island  the  name  of  Santa  Maria  de  la 
Concepcion  ;  he  does  not  mention  either  its  bearings 
from  San  Salvador,  or  the  course  which  he  steered  in 
going  to  it.  We  know  that  in  all  this  neighborhood 
the  current  sets  strongly  and  constantly  to  the 
W.N.W.  ;  and  since  Columbus  had  the  current  against 
him,  he  must  have  been  sailing  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, or  to  the  E.S.E.  Besides,  when  near  Concep- 
cion, Columbus  sees  another  island  to  the  westward, 
the  largest  he  had  yet  seen  ;  but  he  tells  us  that  he 
anchored  off  Concepcion,  and  did  not  stand  for  this 
larger  island,  because  he  could  not  have  sailed  to  the 
west.  Hence  it  is  rendered  certain  that  Columbus  did 
not  sail  westward  in  going  from  San  Salvador  to  Con- 


260 


APPENDIX. 


cepcion  ;  for,  from  the  opposition  of  the  wind,  as 
there  could  be  no  other  cause,  he  could  not  sail  toward 
that  quarter.  Now,  on  reference  to  the  chart,  we  find 
the  island  at  present  known  as  Concepcion  situated 
E.S.E.  from  San  Salvador,  and  at  a  corresponding 
distance  of  five  leagues. 

Leaving  Concepcion  on  the  i6th  October,  Columbus 
steered  for  a  very  large  island  seen  to  the  westward 
nine  leagues  off,  and  which  extended  itself  twenty-eight 
leagues  in  a  S.E.  and  N.W.  direction.  He  was  be- 
calmed the  whole  day,  and  did  not  reach  the  island  until 
the-following  morning,  i"jih  October.  He  named  it 
Fernandina.  At  noon  he  made  sail  again,  with  a 
view  to  run  round  it,  and  reach  another  island  called 
Samoet  ;  but  the  wind  being  at  S. E.  by  S.,  the  course 
he  wished  to  steer,  the  natives  signified  that  it  would 
be  easier  to  sail  round  this  island  by  running  to  the 
N.W.  with  a  fair  wind.  He  therefore  bore  up  to  the 
N.W.,  and  having  run  two  leagues  found  a  marvellous 
port,  with  a  narrow  entrance,  or  rather  with  two  en- 
trances, for  there  was  an  island  which  shut  it  in  com- 
pletely, forming  a  noble  basin  within.  Sailing  out  of 
this  harbor  by  the  opposite  entrance  at  the  N.W.,  he 
discovered  that  part  of  the  island  which  runs  east  and 
west.  The  natives  signified  to  him  that  this  island 
was  smaller  than  Samoet,  and  that  it  would  be  better 
to  return  toward  the  latter.  It  had  now  become 
calm,  but  shortly  after  there  sprung  up  a  breeze  from 
W.N.W.,  which  was  ahead  for  the  course  they  had 
been  steering  ;  so  they  bore  up  and  stood  to  the 
E.S.E.  in  order  to  get  an  offing  ;  for  the  weather 
threatened  a  storm,  which  however  dissipated  itself  in 
rain.  The  next  day,  being  the  i8th  October,  they  an- 
chored opposite  the  extremity  of  Fernandina. 

The  whole  of  this  description  answers  most  accu- 
rately to  the  island  of  Exuma,  which  lies  south  from 
San  Salvador,  and  S.  W.  by  S.  from  Concepcion.  The 
only  inconsistency  is,  that  Columbus  states  that  Fer- 
nandina bore  nearly  west  from  Concepcion,  and  was 
twenty-eight  leagues  in  extent.  This  mistake  must 
have  proceed  from  his  having  taken  the  long  chain  of 
keys  called  La  Cadena  for  part  of  the  same  Exurna  ; 
which  continuous  appearance  they  naturally  assume 
when  seen  from  Concepcion,  for  they  run  in  the  same 
S.E.  and  N.W.  direction.  Their  bearings,  when  seen 
from  the  same  point,  are  likewise  westerly  as  well  as 
southwesterly.  As  a  proof  that  such  was  the  case,  it 
may  be  observed  that,  after  having  approached  these 
islands,  instead  of  the  extent  of  Fernandina  being  in- 
creased to  his  eye,  he  now  remarks  that  it  was  twenty 
leagues  long,  whereas  before  it  was  estimated  by  him 
at  twenty-eight  ;  he  now  discovers  that  instead  of  one 
island  there  were  many,  and  alters  his  course  southerly 
to  reach  the  one  that  was  most  conspicuous. 

The  identity  of  the  island  here  described  with  Exuma 
is  irresistibly  forced  upon  the  mind.  The  distance 
from  Concepcion.  the  remarkable  port  with  an  island 
in  front  of  it,  and  farther  on  its  coast  turning  off  to 
the  westward,  are  all  so  accurately  delineated,  that  it 
would  seem  as  though  the  chart  had  been  drawn  from 
the  description  of  Columbus. 

On  the  igth  October,  the  ships  left  Fernandina, 
steering  S.E.  with  the  wind  at  north.  Sailing  three 
hours  on  thi^  course,  they  discovered  Samoet  to  the 
east,  and  steered  for  it,  arriving  at  its  north  point  be- 
fore noon.  Here  they  found  a  little  island  surrounded 
by  rocks,  with  another  reef  of  rocks  lying  between 
it  and  Samoet.  To  Samoet  Columbus  gave  the  name 
of  Isabella,  and  to  the  point  of  it  opposite  the  little 
island,  that  of  Cabo  del  Isleo  ;  the  cape  at  the  S.W. 
point  of  Samoet  Columbus  called  Cabo  de  Laguna, 
and  off  this  last  his  ships  were  brought  to  anchor. 
The  little  island  lay  in  the  direction  from  Fernandina 
to  Isabella,  east  and  west.  The  coast  from  the  small 
island  lay  westerly  twelve  leagues  to  a  cape,  which 
Columbus  called  Fermosa  from  its  beauty  ;  this  he 
believed  to  be  an  island  apart  from  Samoet  or  Isabella, 
with  another  one  between  them.  Leaving  Cape 
Laguna,  where  he  remained  until  the  2Oth  October, 
Columbus  steered  to  the  N.E.  toward  Cabo  del  Isleo, 
but  meeting  with  shoals  inside  the  small  island,  he 


did  not  come  to  anchor  until  the  day  following.  Near 
this  extremity  of  Isabella  they  found  a  lake,  from 
which  the  ships  were  supplied  with  water. 

This  island  of  Isabella,  or  Samoet,  agrees  so  accu- 
rately in  its  description  with  Isla  Larga,  which  lies 
east  of  Exuma,  that  it  is  only  necessary  to  read  it  with 
the  chart  unfolded  to  become  convinced  of  the  identity. 

Having  resolved  to  visit  the  island  which  the  natives 
called  Cuba,  and  described  as  bearing  W.S.W.  from 
Isabella,  Columbus  left  Cabo  del  Isleo  at  midnight, 
the  commencement  of  the  24th  October,  and  shaped 
his  course  accordingly  to  the  W.S.W.  The  wind  con- 
tinued light,  with  rain,  until  noon,  when  it  freshened 
up,  and  in  the  evening  Cape  Verde,  the  S.W.  point 
of  Fernandina,  bore  N.W.  distant  seven  leagues.  As 
the  night  became  tempestuous,  he  lay  to  until  morn- 
ing, drifting  according  to  the  reckoning  two  leagues. 

On  the  morning  of  the  25th  he  made  sail  again  to 
W.S.W.,  until  nine  o'clock,  when  he  had  run  five 
leagues  ;  he  then  steered  west  until  three,  when  he 
had  run  eleven  leagues,  at  which  hour  land  was  dis- 
covered, consisting  of  seven  or  eight  keys  lying  north 
and  south,  and  distant  five  leagues  from  the  ships. 
Here  he  anchored  the  next  day,  south  of  these  islands. 
which  he  called  Islas  de  Arena  ;  they  were  low,  and 
five  or  six  leagues  in  extent. 

The  distances  run  by  Columbus,  added  to  the  de- 
parture taken  from  Fernandina  and  the  distance  from 
these  islands  of  Arena  at  the  lime  of  discovering,  give 
a  sum  of  thirty  leagues.  This  sutr.  of  thirty  leagues  is 
about  three  less  than  the  distance  from  the  S.W.  point 
of  Fernandina  or  Exuma,  whence  Columbus  took  his 
departure,  to  the  group  of  Mucaras,  which  lie  east  of 
Cayo  Lobo  on  the  grand  bank  of  Bahama,  and  which 
correspond  to  the  description  of  Columbus.  If  it 
were  necessary  to  account  for  the  difference  of  three 
leagues  in  a  reckoning,  where  so  much  is  given  on 
conjecture,  it  would  readily  occur  to  a  seaman,  that 
an  allowance  of  two  leagues  for  drift,  during  a  long 
night  of  blowy  weather,  is  but  a  small  one.  The 
course  from  Exuma  to  the  Mucaras  is  about  S.W.  by 
W.  The  course  followed  by  Columbus  differs  a  little 
from  this,  but  as  it  was  his  intention,  on  setting  sail 
from  Isabella,  to  steer  W.S.W.,  and  since  he  after- 
ward altered  it  to  west,  we  may  conclude  that  he  did 
so  in  consequence  of  having  been  run  out  of  his  course 
to  the  southward,  while  lying  to  the  night  previous. 

Oct.  27. — At  sunrise  Columbus  set  sail  from  the 
isles  Arenas  or  Mucaras,  for  an  island  called  Cuba, 
steering  S.S.W.  At  dark,  having  made  seventeen 
leagues  on  that  course,  he  saw  the  land,  and  hove  his 
ships  to  until  morning.  On  the  28th  he  made  sail 
again  at  S.S.W. ,  and  entered  a  beautiful  river  with 
a  fine  harbor,  which  he  named  San  Salvador.  The 
journal  in  this  part  does  not  describe  the  localities 
with  the  minuteness  with  which  everything  has  hitherto 
been  noted  ;  the  text  also  is  in  several  places  obscure. 

This  port  of  San  Salvador  we  take  to  be  the  one 
now  known  as  Caravelas  Grandes,  situated  eight 
leagues  west  of  Nuevitas  del  Principe.  Its  bearings 
and  distance  from  the  Mucaras  coincide  exactly  with 
those  run  by  Columbus  ;  and  its  description  agrees, 
as  far  as  can  be  ascertained  by  charts,  with  the  port 
which  he  visited. 

Oft.  29. — Leaving  this  port,  Columbus  stood  to  the 
west,  and  having  sailed  six  leagues,  he  came  to  a 
point  of  the  island  running  N.W.,  which  we  take  to 
be  the  Punta  Gorda  ;  and,  ten  leagues  farther,  an- 
other stretching  easterly,  which  will  be  Punta  Curiana. 
One  league  farther  he  discovered  a  small  river,  and 
beyond  this  another  very  large  one,  to  which  he  gave 
the  name  of  Rio  de  Mares.  This  river  emptied  into 
a  fine  basin  resembling  a  lake,  and  having  a  bold  en- 
trance :  it  had  for  landmarks  two  round  mountains  at 
the  S.W.,  and  to  the  W.N.W.  a  bold  promontory, 
suitable  for  a  fortification,  which  projected  far  into 
the  sea.  This  we  take  to  be  the  fine  harbor  and  river 
situated  west  of  Point  Curiana  ;  its  distance  corre- 
sponds with  that  run  by  Columbus  from  Caravelas 
Grandes,  which  we  have  supposed  identical  with  Port 
San  Salvador.  Leaving  Rio  de  Mares  the  3Oth  of 


APPENDIX. 


261 


October,  Columbus  stood  to  the  N.W.  for  fifteen 
leagues,  when  he  saw  a  cape,  to  which  he  gave  the 
name  of  Cabo  de  Palmas.  This,  we  believe,  is  the 
one  which  forms  the  eastern  entrance  to  Laguna  de 
Moron.  Beyond  this  cape  was  a  river,  distant,  accord- 
ing to  the  natives,  four  days'  journey  from  the  town 
of  Cuba  ;  Columbus  determined  therefore  to  make 
for  it. 

Having  lain  to  all  nght,  he  reached  the  river  on  the 
3 ist  of  October,  but  found  that  it  was  too  shallow  to 
admit  his  ships.  This  is  supposed  to  be  what  is  now 
known  as  Laguna  de  Moron.  Beyond  this  was  a 
cape  surrounded  by  shoals,  and  another  projected  still 
farther  out.  Between  these  two  capes  was  a  bay 
capable  of  receiving  small  vessels.  The  identity  here 
cf  the  description  with  the  coast  near  Laguna  de  Moron 
seems  very  clear.  The  cape  east  of  Laguna  de  Moron 
coincides  with  Cape  Palmas,  the  Laguna  de  Moron 
with  the  shoal  river  described  by  Columbus  ;  and  in 
the  western  point  of  entrance,  with  the  island  of 
Cabrion  opposite  it,  we  recognize  the  two  projecting 
capes  he  speaks  of,  with  what  appeared  to  be  a  bay 
between  them.  This  all  is  a  remarkable  combination, 
difficult  to  be  found  anywhere  but  in  the  same  spot 
which  Columbus  visited  and  described.  Further,  the 
coast  from  the  port  of  San  Salvador  had  run  west  to 
Rio  de  Mares,  a  distance  of  seventeen  leagues,  and 
from  Rio  de  Mares  it  had  extended  N.W.  fifteen 
leagues  to  Cabo  de  Palmos  ;  all  of  which  agrees  fully 
with  what  has  been  here  supposed.  The  wind  having 
shifted  to  north,  which  was  contrary  to  the  course  they 
had  been  steering,  the  vessels  bore  up  and  returned  to 
Rio  de  Mares. 

On  the  I2th  of  November  the  ships  sailed  out  of 
Rio  de  Mares  to  go  in  quest  of  Babeque,  an  island 
believed  to  abound  in  gold,  and  to  lie  E.  by  S.  from 
that  port.  Having  sailed  eight  leagues  with  a  fair 
%vind,  they  came  to  a  river,  in  which  may  be  recognized 
the  one  which  lies  just  west  of  Punta  Gorda.  Four 
leagues  farther  they  saw  another,  which  they  called 
Rio  del  Sol.  It  appeared  very  large,  but  they  did  not 
stop  to  examine  it,  as  the  wind  was  fair  to  advance. 
This  we  take  to  be  the  river  now  known  as  Sabana. 
Columbus  was  now  retracing  his  steps,  and  had  made 
twelve  leagues  from  Rio  de  Mares,  but  in  going  west 
from  Port  San  Salvador  to  Rio  de  Mares,  he  had  run 
seventeen  leagues.  San  Salvador,  therefore,  remains 
five  leagues  east  of  Rio  del  Sol  ;  and,  accordingly,  on 
reference  to  the  chart,  we  find  Caravelas  Grandes 
situated  a  corresponding  distance  from  Sabana. 

Having  run  six  leagues  from  Rio  del  Sol,  which 
makes  in  all  eighteen  leagues  from  Rio  de  Mares 
Columbus  came  to  a  cape  which  he  called  Cabo  de 
Cuba,  probably  from  supposing  it  to  be  the  extremity 
of  that  island.  This  corresponds  precisely  in  distance 
from  Punta  Curiana  with  the  lesser  island  of  Guajava, 
situated  near  Cuba,  and  between  which  and  the  greater 
Guajava  Columbus  must  have  passed  in  running  in 
for  Port  San  Salvador.  Either  he  did  not  notice  it, 
from  his  attention  being  engrossed  by  the  magnificent 
island  before  him,  or,  as  is  also  possible,  his  vessels 
may  have  been  drifted  through  the  passage,  which  is 
two  leagues  wide,  while  lying  to  the  night  previous  to 
their  arrival  at  Port  San  Salvador. 

On  the  I3th  of  November,  having  hove  to  all  night, 
in  the  morning  the  ships  passed  a  point  two  leagues 
in  extent,  and  then  entered  into  a  gulf  that  made  into 
the  S.S.W.,  and  which  Columbus  thought  separated 
Cuba  from  Bohio.  At  the  bottom  of  the  gulf  was  a 
large  basin  between  two  mountains.  He  could  not 
determine  whether  or  not  this  was  an  arm  of  the  sea  : 
for  not  finding  shelter  from  the  north  wind,  he  put  to 
sea  again.  Hence  it  would  appear  that  Columbus 
must  have  partly  sailed  round  the  smaller  Guajava, 
which  he  took  to  be  the  extremity  of  Cuba,  without 
being  aware  that  a  few  hours'  sail  would  have  taken 
him,  by  this  channel,  to  Port  San  Salvador,  his  first 
discovery  in  Cuba,  and  so  back  to  the  same  Rio  dei 
Sol  which  he  had  passed  the  day  previous.  Of  the 
two  mountains  seen  on  both  sides  of  this  entrance,  the 
principal  one  corresponds  with  the  peak  called  Alto 


de  Juan  Daune,  which  lies  seven  leagues  west  of 
Punta  de  Maternillos.  The  wind  continuing  north, 
he  stood  east  fourteen  leagues  from  Cape  Cuba,  which 
we  have  supposed  the  lesser  island  of  Guajava.  It  is 
here  rendered  sure  that  the  point  of  little  Guajava  was 
believed  by  him  to  be  the  extremity  of  Cuba  ;  for  he 
speaks  of  the  land  mentioned  as  lying  to  leeward  of 
the  above-mentioned  gulf  as  being  the  island  of  Bohio, 
and  says  that  he  discovered  twenty  leagues  of  it  run- 
ning E.S.E.  and  W.N.W. 

On  the  I4th  November,  having  lain  to  all  night  with 
a  N.E.  wind,  he  determined  to  seek  a  port,  and  if  he 
found  none,  to  return  to  those  which  he  had  left  in 
the  island  of  Cuba  ;  for  it  will  be  remembered  that 
all  east  of  little  Guajava  he  supposed  to  be  Bohio. 
He  steered  E.  by  S.  therefore  six  leagues,  and  then 
stood  in  for  the  land.  Here  he  saw  many  ports  and 
islands  ;  but  as  it  blew  fresh,  with  a  heavy  sea,  he 
dared  not  enter,  but  ran  the  coast  down  N.W.  by  W. 
for  a  distance  of  eighteen  leagues,  where  he  saw  a 
clear  entrance  and  a  port,  in  which  he  stood  S.S.W. 
and  afterward  S.E. ,  the  navigation  being  all  clear  and 
open.  Here  Columbus  beheld  so  many  islands  that 
it  was  impossible  to  count  them.  They  were  very  lofty, 
and  covered  with  trees.  Columbus  called  the  neigh- 
boring sea  Mar  de  Nuestra  Senora,  and  to  the  harbor 
near  the  entrance  to  these  islands  he  gave  the  name 
of  Puerto  del  Principe.  This  harbor  he  says  he  did 
not  enter  until  the  Sunday  following,  which  was  four 
days  after.  This  part  of  the  text  of  Columbus's  jour- 
nal is  confused,  and  there  are  also  anticipations,  as  if 
it  had  been  written  subsequently,  or  mixed  together 
in  copying.  It  appears  evident  that  while  lying  to  the 
night  previous,  with  the  wind  at  N.E.,  the  ships  had 
drifted  to  the  N.W.,  and  been  carried  by  the  powerful 
current  of  the  Bahama  channel  far  in  the  same  direc- 
tion. When  they  bore  up,  therefore,  to  return  to  the 
ports  which  they  had  left  in  the  island  of  Cuba,  they 
fell  in  to  leeward  of  them,  and  now  first  discovered 
the  numerous  group  of  islands  of  which  Cayo  Romano 
is  the  principal.  The  current  of  this  channel  is  of 
itself  sufficient  to  have  carried  the  vessels  to  the  west- 
ward a  distance  of  20  leagues,  which  is  what  they  had 
run  easterly  since  leaving  Cape  Cuba,  or  Guajava,  for 
it  had  acted  upon  them  during  a  period  of  thirty  hours. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  these  keys 
with  those  about  Cayo  Romano  ;  for  they  are  the 
only  ones  in  the  neighborhood  of  Cuba  that  are  not  of 
a  low  and  swampy  nature,  but  large  and  lofty.  They 
inclose  a  free,  open  navigation,  and  abundance  of  fine 
harbors,  in  late  years  the  resort  of  pirates,  who  found 
security  and  concealment  for  themselves  and  their 
prizes  in  the  recesses  of  these  lofty  keys.  From  the 
description  of  Columbus,  the  vessels  must  have  en- 
tered between  the  islands  of  Baril  and  Pacedon,  and 
sailing  along  Cayo  Romano  on  a  S.E.  course,  have 
reached  in  another  day  their  old  cruising  ground  in 
the  neighborhood  of  lesser  Guajava.  Not  only  Colum- 
bus does  not  tell  us  here  of  his  having  changed  his 
anchorage  among  these  keys,  but  his  journal  does  not 
even  mention  his  having  anchored  at  all,  until  the  re- 
turn from  the  ineffectual  search  after  Babeque.  It  is 
clear,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  it  was  not  in  Port 
Principe  that  the  vessels  anchored  on  this  occasion  ; 
but  it  could  not  have  been  very  distant,  since  Colum- 
bus went  from  the  ships  in  his  boats  on  the  iSth  No- 
vember, to  place  a  cross  at  its  entrance.  He  had 
probably  seen  the  entrance  from  without,  when  sail- 
ing east  from  Guajava  on  the  I3ih  of  November. 
The  identity  of  this  port  with  the  one  now  known  as 
Nuevitas  el  Principe  seems  certain,  from  the  desciip- 
tion  of  its  entrance.  Columbus,  it  appears,  did  not 
visit  its  interior. 

On  the  igth  November  the  ships  sailed  again,  in 
quest  of  Babeque.  At  sunset  Port  Principe  bore 
S.S.W.  distant  seven  leagues,  and  having  sailed  all 
night  at  N.E.  by  N.  and  until  ten  o'clock  of  the  next 
day  (aoih  November),  they  had  run  a  distance  of  fifteen 
leagues  on  that  course.  The  wind  blowing  from 
E.S.E.,  which  was  the  direction  in  which  Babeque 
was  supposed  to  lie,  and  the  weather  being  foul, 


202 


APPENDIX. 


Columbus  determined  to  return  to  Port  Principe, 
which  was  then  distant  twenty-five  leagues.  He  did 
not  wish  to  go  to  Isabella,  distant  only  twelve  leagues, 
lest  the  Indians  whom  he  had  brought  from  San  Sal- 
vador, which  lay  eight  leagues  from  Isabella,  should 
make  their  escape.  Thus,  in  sailing  N.E.  by  N.  from 
near  Port  Principe.  Columbus  had  approached  within 
a  short  distance  of  Isabella.  That  island  was  then, 
according  to  his  calculations,  thirty  -  seven  leagues 
from  Port  Principe  ;  and  San  Salvador  was  forty-five 
leagues  from  the  same  point.  The  first  differs  but 
eight  leagues  from  the  truth,  the  latter  nine  ;  or  from 
the  actual  distance  of  Nuevitas  el  Principe  from  Isla 
Larga  and  San  Salvador.  Again,  let  us  now  call  to 
mind  the  course  made  by  Columbus  in  going  from 
Isabella  to  Cuba  ;  it  was  first  W.S.W. ,  then  W.,  and 
afterward  S.S.  W.  Having  consideration  for  the 
different  distances  run  on  each,  these  yield  a  medium 
course  not  materially  different  from  S.  W.  Sailing 
then  S.W.  from  Isabella,  Columbus  had  reached  Port 
San  Salvador,  on  the  coast  of  Cuba.  Making  after- 
ward a  course  of  N.E.  by  N.  from  off  Port  Principe, 
he  was  going  in  the  direction  of  Isabella.  Hence  we 
deduce  that  Port  San  Salvador,  on  the  coast  of  Cuba, 
lay  west  of  Port  Principe,  and  the  whole  combination 
is  thus  bound  together  and  established.  The  two 
islands  seen  by  Columbus  at  ten  o'clock  of  the  same 
2Oth  November,  must  have  been  some  of  the  keys 
which  lie  west  of  the  Jumentos.  Running  back  toward 
Fort  Principe,  Columbus  made  it  at  dark,  but  found 
that  he  had  been  carried  to  the  westward  by  the  cur- 
rents. This  furnishes  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  strength 
of  the  current  in  the  Bahama  channel  ;  for  it  will  be 
remembered  that  he  ran  over  to  Cuba  with  a  fair 
wind.  After  contending  for  four  days,  until  the  24th 
November,  with  light  winds  against  the  force  of  these 
currents,  he  arrived  at  length  opposite  the  level  island 
whence  he  had  set  out  the  week  before  when  going  to 
Babeque. 

We  are  thus  accidentally  informed  that  the  point 
from  which  Columbus  started  in  search  of  Babeque 
was  the  same  island  of  Guajava  the  lesser,  which  lies 
west  of  Nuevitas  el  Principe.  Further  :  at  first  he 
dared  not  enter  into  the  opening  between  the  two 
mountains,  for  it  seemed  as  though  the  sea  broke  upon 
them  ;  but  having  sent  the  boat  ahead,  the  vessels 
followed  in  at  S.W.  and  then  W.  into  a  fine  harbor. 
The  level  island  lay  north  of  it,  and  with  another 
island  formed  a  secure  basin  capable  of  sheltering  all 
the  navy  of  Spain.  This  level  island  resolves  itself 
then  into  our  late  Cape  Cuba,  which  we  have  supposed 
to  be  little  Guajava,  and  the  entrance  east  of  it  be- 
comes identical  with  the  gulf  above  mentioned  which 
lay  between  two  mountains,  one  of  which  we  have 
supposed  the  Alto  de  Juan  Daune,  and  which  gulf  ap- 
peared to  divide  Ciiba  from  Bohio.  Our  course  now 
becomes  a  plain  one.  On  the  26th  of  November, 
Columbus  sailed  from  Santa  Catalina  (the  name  given 
by  him  to  the  port  last  described)  at  sunrise,  and  stood 
for  the  cape  at  the  S.E.  which  he  called  Cabo  de  Pico. 
In  this  it  is  easy  to  recognize  the 'high  peak  already 
spoken  of  as  the  Alto  de  Juan  Daune.  Arrived  off 
this  he  saw  another  cape,  distant  fifteen  leagues,  and 
still  farther  another  five  leagues  beyond  it,  which  he 
called  Cabo  de  Campana.  The  first  must  be  that  now 
known  as  Point  Padre,  the  second  Point  Mulas  :  their 
distances  from  Alto  de  Juan  Daune  are  underrated  ; 
but  it  requires  no  little  experience  to  estimate  correctly 
the  distances  of  the  bold  headlands  oc  Cuba,  as  seen 
through  the  pure  atmosphere  that  surrounds  the  island. 

Having  passed  Point  Mulas  in  the  night,  on  the  2yth 
Columbus  looked  into  the  deep  bay  that  lies  S.E.  of  it, 
and  seeing  the  bold  projecting  head-land  that  makes 
out  between  Port  Nipe  and  Port  Banes,  with  those 
deep  bays  on  each  side  of  it,  he  supposed  it  to  be  an 
arm  of  the  sea  dividing  one  land  from  another  with  an 
island  between  them. 

Having  landed  at  Taco  for  a  short  time,  Columbus  ar- 
rived in  the  evening  of  the  27th  at  Baracoa,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Puerto  Santa.  From  Cabo  del  Pico 
to  Puerto  Santo,  a  distance  of  sixty  leagues,  he  had 


passed  no  fewer  than  nine  good  ports  and  five  rivers 
to  Cape  Campana,  and  thence  to  Puerto  Santo  eight 
more  rivers,  each  with  a  good  port  ;  all  of  which  may 
be  found  on  the  chart  between  Alto  de  Juan  Daune 
and  Baracoa.  By  keeping  near  the  coast  he  had  been 
assisted  to  the  S.E.  by  the  eddy  current  of  the  Bahama 
channel.  Sailing  from  Puerto  Santo  or  Baracoa  on 
the  4th  of  December,  he  reached  the  extremity  of  Cuba 
the  following  day,  and  striking  off  upon  a  wind  to  the 
S.E.  in  search  of  Babeque,  which  lay  to  the  N.E. ,  he 
came  in  sight  of  Bohio,  to  which  he  gave  the  name  of 
Hispaniola. 

On  taking  leave  of  Cuba,  Columbus  tells  us  that  he 
had  coasted  it  a  distance  of  120  leagues.  Allowing 
twenty  leagues  of  this  distance  for  his  having  fol- 
lowed the  undulations  of  the  coast,  the  remaining  100 
measured  from  Point  Mays!  fall  exactly  upon  Cabrion 
Key,  which  we  have  supposed  the  western  boundary 
of  his  discoveries. 

The  astronomical  observations  of  Columbus  form 
no  objection  to  what  has  been  here  advanced  ;  for 
he  tells  us  that  the  instrument  which  he  made  use  of 
to  measure  the  meridian  altitudes  of  the    heavenly 
bodies  was  out  of  order  and  not  to  be  depended  upon. 
He  places  his  first  discovery,   Guanahan!,  in  the  lati- 
tude of  Ferro,  which  is  about  27°  30'  north.     San  Sal- 
j  vador  we  find  in  24°  30'  and  Turk's  Island  in  21  ^  30'  : 
I  both  are  very  wide  of  the  truth,   but  it  is  certainly 
i  easier  to  conceive  an  error  of  three  than  one  cf  six 
!  degrees. 

Laying  aside  geographical  demonstration,  let  us 
now  examine  how  historical  records  agree  with  the 
I  opinion  here  supported,  that  the  island  of  San 
Salvador  was  the  first  point  where  Columbus  came 
in  contact  with  the  New  World.  Herrera,  who  is 
considered  the  most  faithful  and  authentic  of  Span- 
ish historians,  wrote  his  History  of  the  Indies  toward 
the  year  1600.  In  describing  the  voyage  of  Juan 
Ponce  de  Leon,  made  to  Florida  in  1512,  he  makes 
the  following  remarks  :*  "  Leaving  Aguada  in  Porto 
Rico,  they  steered  totheN.W.  by  N.,  and  in  five  days 
arrived  at  an  island  called  El  Viejo,  in  latitude  22' 
30'  north.  The  next  day  they  arrived  at  a  small 
island  of  the  Lucayos,  called  Caycos.  On  the  eighth 
day  they  anchored  at  another  island  called  Yaguna  in 
24°,  on  the  eighth  day  out  from  Porto  Rico.  Thence 
they  passed  to  the  island  of  Manuega,  in  24°  30',  and 
on  the  eleventh  day  they  reached  Guanahani,  which  is 
in  25'  40'  north.  This  island  of  Guanahani  was  the 
first  discovered  by  Columbus  on  his  first  voyage,  and 
which  he  called  San  Salvador."  This  is  the  substance 
of  the  remarks  of  Herrera,  and  is  entirely  conclusive 
as  to  the  location  of  San  Salvador.  The  latitudes,  it 
is  true,  are  all  placed  higher  than  we  now  know  them 
to  be  ;  that  of  San  Salvador  being  such  as  to  corre- 
spond with  no  other  land  than  that  now  known  as  the 
Berry  Islands,  which  are  seventy  leagues  distant  from 
the  nearest  coast  of  Cuba  :  whereas  Columbus  tells  us 
that  San  Salvador  was  only  forty-five  leagues  from 
Port  Principe.  But  in  those  infant  days  of  naviga 
tion,  the  instruments  for  measuring  the  altitudes  of 
the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the  tables  of  declinations 
for  deducing  the  latitude,  must  have  been  so  imperfect 
as  to  place  the  most  scientific  navigator  of  the  time 
below  the  most  mechanical  one  of  the  present. 

The  second  island  arrived  at  by  Ponce  de  Leon,  in 
his  northwestern  course,  was  one  of  the  Caycos  ;  the 
first  one,  then,  called  El  Viejo,  must  have  been  Turk's 
Island,  which  lies  S.E.  of  the  Caycos.  The  third 
island  they  came  to  was  probably  Marihuana  ;  the 
fourth,  Crooked  Island  ;  and  the  fifth,  Isla  Larga. 
Lastly  they  came  to  Guanahani,  the  San  Salvador  of 
Columbus.  If  this  be  supposed  identical  with  Turk's 
Island,  where  do  we  find  the  succession  of  islands 
touched  at  by  Ponce  de  Leon  on  his  way  from  Porto 
Rico  to  San  Salvador  ?f  No  stress  has  been  laid,  in 


*  Herrera.  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  i.  lib.  ix.  cap.  10. 

t  In  the  first  chapter  of  Herrera's  description  o.  the 
Indies,  appended  to  his  history,  is  another  scale  of  the 
Bahama  Islands,  which  corroborates  the  above.  It  begins 


APPENDIX. 


2G3 


these  remarks,  on  the  identity  of  name  which  has  been 
preserved  to  San  Salvador,  Concepcion,  and  Port 
Principe,  with  those  given  by  Columbus,  though  tra- 
ditional usage  is  of  vast  weight  in  such  matters. 
Geographical  proof,  of  a  conclusive  kind  it  is  thought, 
has  been  advanced,  to  enable  the  world  to  remain  in 
its  old  hereditary  belief  that  the  present  island  of  San 
Salvador  is  the  spot  where  Columbus  first  set  foot 
upon  the  New  World.  Established  opinions  of  the 
kind  should  not  be  lightly  molested.  It  is  a  good  old 
rule,  that  ought  to  be  kept  in  mind  incurious  research 
as  well  as  territorial  dealings,  "  Do  not  disturb  the 
ancient  landmarks." 

Note  to  the  Revised  Edition  of  1848. — The  Baron  de 
Humboldt,  in  his  "  Examen  Critique  de  1'histoire  de 
la  geographic  du  nouyeau  continent,"  published  in 
1837,  speaks  repeatedly  in  high  terms  of  the  ability 
displayed  in  the  above  examination  of  the  route  of 
Columbus,  and  argues  at  great  length  and  quite  con- 
clusively in  support  of  the  opinion  contained  in  it. 
Above  all,  he  produces  a  document  hitherto  unknown, 
and  the  great  importance  of  which  had  been  discovered 
by  M.  Valeknaer  and  himself  in  1832.  This  is  a  map 
made  in  1500  by  that  able  mariner  Juan  de  la  Cosa, 
who  accompanied  Columbus  in  his  second  voyage  and 
sailed  with  other  of  the  discoverers.  In  this  map,  of 
which  the  Baron  de  Humboldt  gives  an  engraving, 
the  islands  as  laid  down  agree  completely  with  the 
bearings  and  distances  given  in  the  journal  of  Colum- 
bus, and  establishes  the  identity  of  San  Salvador,  or 
Cat  Island,  and  Guanahani. 

"  I  feel  happy,"  says  M.  de  Humboldt,  "to  be  en- 
abled to  destroy  the  incertitudes  (which  rested  on  this 
subject)  by  a  document  as  ancient  as  it  is  unknown  ; 
a  document  which  confirms  irrevocably  the  arguments 
which  Mr.  Washington  Irving  has  given  in  his  work 
against  the  hypotheses  of  the  Turk's  Island." 

In  the  present  revised  edition  the  author  feels  at 
libetty  to  give  the  merit  of  the  very  masterly  paper  on 
the  route  of  Columbus  where  it  is  justly  due.  It  was 
furnished  him  at  Madrid  by  the  late  commander  Alex- 
ander Slidel  Mackenzie,  of  the  United  States  navy, 
whose  modesty  shrunk  from  affixing  his  name  to  an 
article  so  calculated  to  do  him  credit,  and  which  has 
since  challenged  the  high  eulogiums  of  men  of  nauti- 
cal science. 


No.   XVIII. 

PRINCIPLES  UPON  WHICH  THE  SUMS  MENTIONED  IN 
THIS  WORK  HAVE  BEEN  REDUCED  INTO  MODERN 
CURRENCY". 

IN  the  reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  the  mark  of 
silver,  which  was  equal  to  S  ounces  or  to  50  castillanos 
was  divided  into  65  reals,  and  each  real  into  3_|.mara- 
vedis  ,  so  that  there  were  22iomaravedis  in  the  mark 
of  silver.  Among  other  silver  coins  there  was  the 
real  of  8,  which,  consisting  of  8  reals,  was,  within  a 
small  fraction,  the  eighth  part  of  a  mark  of  silver,  or 
one  ounce.  Of  the  gold  coins  then  in  circulation  the 
castillano  or  dobla  de  la  vanda  was  worth  490  mara- 
vedis,  and  the  ducado  383  maravedis. 

If  the  value  of  the  maravedi  had  remained  un- 
changed in  Spain  down  to  the  present  day,  it  would 
be  easy  to  reduce  a  sum  of  the  time  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella  into  a  correspondent  sum  of  cur- 
rent money  ;  but  by  the  successive  depreciations  of 
the  coin  of  Vellon,  or  mixed  metals,  issued  since  that 
period,  the  real  and  maravedi  of  Vellon,  which  had 
replaced  the  ancient  currency,  were  reduced  toward 
the  year  1700,  to  about  a  third  of  the  old  teal  and 
maravedi.  now  known  as  the  teal  and  maravedi  of 
silver.  As,  however,  the  ancient  piece  of  8  reals  was 
equal  approximately  to  the  ounce  of  silver,  and  the 
duro,  or  dollar  of  the  present  day,  is  likewise  equal 
to  an  ounce,  they  may  be  considered  identical.  In- 


at  the  opposite  end,  at  the  N.  W.,  and  runs  down  to  the 
S.  E.     It  is  thought  unnecessary  to  cite  it  particularly. 


deed,  in  Spanish  America,  the  dollar,  instead  of  being 
divided  into  20  reals,  as  in  Spain,  is  divided  into  only 
8  parts  called  reals,  which  evidently  represent  the 
real  of  the  time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  as  the  dol- 
lar does  the  real  of  8.  But  the  ounce  of  silver  was 
anciently  worth  276^  maravedis  ;  the  dollar,  therefore, 
is  likewise  equal  to  276^-  maravedis.  By  converting 
then  the  sums  mentioned  in  this  work  into  maravedis 
they  have  been  afterward  reduced  into  dollars  by 
dividing  by  276^. 

There  is  still,  however,  another  calculation  to  be 
made,  before  we  can  arrive  at  the  actual  value  of  any 
sum  of  gold  and  silver  mentioned  in  former  times. 
It  is  necessary  to  notice  the  variation  which  has  taken 
place  in  the  value  of  the  metals  themselves.  In 
Europe,  previous  to  the  discovery  of  the  New  World, 
an  ounce  of  gold  commanded  an  amount  of  food  or 
labor  which  would  cost  three  ounces  at  the  present 
day  ;  hence  an  ounce  of  gold  was  then  estimated  at 
three  times  its  present  value.  At  the  same  time  an 
ounce  of  silver  commanded  an  amount  which  at  pres- 
ent costs  4  ounces  of  silver.  It  appears  from  this, 
that  the  value  of  gold  and  silver  varied  with  respect  to 
each  other,  as  well  as  with  respect  to  all  other  com- 
modities. This  is  owing  to  there  having  been  much 
more  silver  brought  from  the  New  World,  with  re- 
spect to  the  quantity  previously  in  circulation,  than 
there  has  been  of  gold.  In  the  fifteenth  century  one 
ounce  of  gold  was  equal  to  about  12  of  silver  ;  and 
now,  in  the  year  1827,  it  is  exchanged  against  16. 

Hence  giving  an  idea  of  the  relative  value  of  the 
sums  mentioned  in  this  work,  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  multiply  them  by  three  when  in  gold, 
and  by  four  when  expressed  in  silver.* 

It  is  expedient  to  add  that  the  dollar  is  reckoned  in 
this  work  at  100  cents  of  the  United  States  of  North 
America,  and  four  shillings  and  sixpence  of  England. 


No.  XIX. 

PRESTER   JOHN  : 

SAID  to  be  derived  from  the  Persian  Prestegani  or 
Perestig/ini,vi\\\ch  signifies  apostolique  ;  or  Presditak 
Gehain,  angel  of  the  world.  It  is  the  name  of  a  potent 
Christian  monarch  of  shadowy  renown,  whose  do- 
minions were  placed  by  writers  of  the  middle  ages 
sometimes  in  the  remote  parts  of  Asia  and  sometimes 
in  Africa,  and  of  whom  such  contradictory  accounts 
were  given  by  the  travellers  of  those  days  that  the 
very  existence  either  of  him  or  his  kingdom  came  to 
be  considered  doubtful.  It  now  appears  to  be  ad- 
mitted that  there  really  was  such  a  potentate  in  a 
remote  part  of  Asia.  He  was  of  the  Nestorian  Chris- 
tians, a  sect  spread  throughout  Asia,  and  taking  its 
name  and  origin  from  Nestorius,  a  Christian  patriarch 
of  Constantinople. 

The  first  vague  reports  of  a  Christian  potentate  in 
the  interior  of  Asia,  or  as  it  was  then  called,  India, 
were  brought  to  Europe  by  the  Crusaders,  who  it  is 
supposed  gathered  them  from  the  Syrian  merchants 
who  traded  to  the  very  confines  of  China. 

In  subsequent  ages,  when  the  Portuguese  in  their 
travels  and  voyages  discovered  a  Christian  king 
among  the  Abyssinians,  called  Baleel-Gian,  they  con- 
founded him  with  the  potentate  already  spoken  of. 
Nor  was  the  blunder  extraordinary,  since  the  original 
Prester  John  was  said  to  reign  over  a  remote  part  of 
India  ;  and  the  ancients  included  in  that  name  Ethio- 
pia and  all  the  regions  of  Africa  and  Asia  bordering 
on  the.  Red  Sea  and  on  the  commercial  route  from 
Egypt  to  India. 

Of  the  Prester  John  of  India  we  have  reports  fur- 
nished by  William  Ruysbrook,  commonly  called 
Rubruquis,  a  Franciscan  friar  sent  by  Louis  IX., 
about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  to  convert 
the  Grand  Khan.  According  to  him,  Prester  John 
was  originally  a  Nestorian  priest,  who  on  the  death 


*  See  Caballero  Pesos  y  Medidas.  J.  B.  Say,  Economic 
Politique. 


204 


APPENDIX. 


of  the  sovereign  made  himself  King  of  the  Naymans, 
all  Nestorian  Christians.  Carpini,  a  Franciscan  friar, 
sent  by  Pope  Innocent  in  1245  to  convert  the  Mon- 
gols of  Persia,  says  that  Ocoday,  one  of  the  sons  of 
Ghengis  Khan  of  Tartary,  marched  with  an  army 
against  the  Christians  of  Grand  India.  The  king  of 
that  country,  who  was  called  Prester  John,  came  to 
their  succor.  Having  had  figures  of  men  made  of 
bronze,  he  had  them  fastened  on  the  saddles  of  horses, 
and  put  fire  within,  with  a  man  behind  with  a  bel- 
lows. When  they  came  to  battle  these  horses  were 
put  in  the  advance,  and  the  men  who  were  seated 
behind  the  figures  threw  something  into  the  fire,  and 
blowing  with  their  bellows,  made  such  a  smoke  that 
the  Tartars  were  quite  covered  with  it.  They  then 
fell  on  them,  dispatched  many  with  their  arrows, 
and  put  the  rest  to  flight. 

Marco  Polo  (1271)  places  Prester  John  near  the 
great  wall  of  China,  to  the  north  of  Chan-si,  in 
Teudich,  a  populous  region  full  of  cities  and  castles. 

Mandeville  (1332)  makes  Prester  sovereign  of  Upper 
India  (Asia),  with  four  thousand  islands  tributary  to 
him. 

When  John  II.,  of  Portugal,  was  pushing  his  dis- 
coveries along  the  African  coast,  he  was  informed  that 
350  leagues  to  the  east  of  the  kingdom  of  Benin  in  the 
profound  depths  of  Africa,  there  was  a  puissant  mon- 
arch, called  Ogave:  who  had  spiritual  and  temporal 
jurisdiction  over  all  the  surrounding  kings. 

An  African  prince  assured  him,  also  that  to  the 
east  of  Timbuctoo  there  was  a  sovereign  who  pro- 
fessed a  religion  similar  to  that  of  the  Christians,  and 
was  king  of  a  Mosaic  people. 

King  John  now  supposed  he  had  found  traces  of  the 
real  Prester  John,  with  whom  he  was  eager  to  form 
an  alliance  religious  as  well  as  commercial.  In  1487 
he  sent  envoys  by  land  in  quest  of  him.  One  was  a 
gentleman  of  his  household,  Pedro  de  Covilham  ;  the 
other,  Alphonso  de  Paiva.  They  went  by  Naples  to 
Rhodes,  thence  to  Cairo,  thence  to  Aden  on  the 
Arabian  Gulf  above  the  mouth  of  the  Red  Sea. 

Here  they  separated  with  an  agreement  to  rendez- 
vous at  Cairo.  Alphonso  de  Paiva  sailed  direct  for 
Ethiopia  ;  Pedro  de  Covilham  for  the  Indies.  The 
latter  passed  to  Calicut  and  Goa.  where  he  embarked 
for  Sofala  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa,  thence  re- 
turned to  Aden,  and  made  his  way  back  to  Cairo. 
Here  he  learned  that  his  coadjutqr,  Alphonso  dc 
Paiva,  had  died  in  that  city.  He  found  two  Portu- 
guese Jews  waiting  for  him  with  fresh  orders  from 
King  John  not  to  give  up  his  researches  after  Prester 
John  until  he  found  him.  One  of  the  Jews  he  sent 
back  with  a  journal  and  verbal  accounts  of  his  travels. 
With  the  other  he  set  off  again  for  Aden  ;  thence  to 
Ormuz,  at  the  entrance  of  the  Gulf  of  Persia,  where 
all  the  rich  merchandise  of  the  East  was  brought  to  be 
transported  thence  by  Syria  and  Egypt  into  Europe. 

Having  taken  note  of  everything  here,  he  embarked 
on  the  Red  Sea,  and  arrived  at  the  court  of  an 
Abyssinian  prince  named  Escander  (the  Arabic  ver- 
sion of  Alexander),  whom  he  considered  the  real 
Prester  John.  The  prince  received  him  graciously, 
and  manifested  a  disposition  to  favor  the  object  of 
his  embassy,  but  died  suddenly,  and  his  successor 
Naut  refused  to  let  Covilham  depart,  but  kept  him 
for  many  years  about  his  person,  as  his  prime  council- 
lor, lavishing  on  him  wealth  and  honors.  After  all, 
this  was  not  the  real  Prester  John,  who,  as  has  been 
observed,  was  an  Asiatic  potentate. 


No.    XX. 

MARCO    POLO.* 

THE  travels  of  Marco  Polo,  or  Paolo,  furnish  a  key 
to  many  parts  of   the    voyages  and  speculations  of 


*  In  preparing  the  first  edition  of  this  work  for  the  press 
the  author  had  not  the  benefit  of  the  English  translation  of 
Marco  Polo,  published  a  few  years  since,  with  admirable 
commentaries,  by  William  Maisden,  F.R.S.  He  availed 


Columbus,  which  without  it  would  hardly  be  compre- 
hensible. 

Marco  Polo  was  a  native  of  Venice,  who,  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  made  a  journey  into  the  remote, 
and,  at  that  time,  unknown  regions  of  the  East,  and 
filled  all  Christendom  with  curiosity  by  his  account  of 
the  countries  he  had  visited.  He  was  preceded  in  his 
travels  by  his  father  Nicholas  and  his  uncle  Maffeo 
Polo.  These  two  brothers  were  of  an  illustrious  fam- 
ily in  Venice,  and  embarked  about  the  year  1255  on 
a  commercial  voyage  to  the  East.  Having  traversed 
the  Mediterranean  and  through  the  Bosphorus,  they 
stopped  for  a  short  time  at  Constantinople,  which  city 
had  recently  been  wrested  from  the  Greeks  by  the 
joint  arms  of  France  and  Venice.  Here  they  dis- 
posed of  their  Italian  merchandise,  and,  having  pur- 
chased a  stock  of  jewelry,  departed  on  an  adventu- 
rous expedition  to  trade  with  the  western  Tartars, 
who,  having  overrun  many  parts  of  Asia  and  Europe, 
were  settling  and  forming  cities  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Wolga.  After  traversing  the  Euxine  to  Soldaia  (at 
present  Sudak),  a  port  in  the  Crimea,  they  continued 
on,  by  land  and  water,  until  they  reached  the  military 
court,  or  rather  camp  o(  a  Tartar  prince,  named  Bar- 
kah,  a  descendant  of  Ghengis  Khan,  into  whose  hands 
they  confided  all  their  merchandise.  The  barbaric 
chieftain,  while  he  was  dazzled  by  their  precious  com- 
modities, was  flattered  by  the  entire  confidence  in  his 
justice  manifested  by  these  strangers.  He  repaid 
them  with  princely  munificence,  and  loaded  them  with 
favors  during  a  year  that  they  remained  at  his  court. 
A  war  breaking  out  between  their  patron  and  his 
cousin  Hulagu,  chief  of  the  eastern  Tartars,  and  Bar- 
kah  being  defeated,  the  Polos  were  embarrassed  how 
to  extricate  themselves  from  the  country  and  return 
home  in  safety.  The  road  to  Consiantinpole  being 
cut  off  by  the  enemy,  they  took  a  circuitous  route, 
round  the  head  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  and  through  the 
deserts  of  Transoxiana,  until  they  arrived  in  the  city 
of  Bokhara,  where  they  resided  for  three  years. 

While  here  there  arrived  a  Tartar  nobleman  who 
was  on  an  embassy  from  the  victorious  Hulagu  to  his 
brother  the  Grand  Khan.  The  ambassador  became 
acquainted  with  the  Venetians,  and  finding  them  to 
be  versed  in  the  Tartar  tongue  and  possessed  of  curi- 
ous and  valuable  knowledge,  he  prevailed  upon  them 
to  accompany  him  to  the  court  of  the  emperor,  situ- 
ated, as  they  supposed,  at  the  very  extremity  of  the 
East. 

After  a  march  of  several  months,  being  delayed  by 
snow-storms  and  inundations,  they  arrived  at  the  court 
of  Cublai,  otherwise  called  the  Great  Khan,  which  sig- 
nifies King  of  Kings,  being  the  sovereign  potentate  of 
the  Tartars.  This  magnificent  prince  received  them 
with  great  distinction  ;  he  made  inquiries  about  the 
countries  and  princes  of  the  West,  their  civil  and  mil- 
itary government,  and  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  Latin  nation.  Above  all,  he  was  curious  on  the 
subject  of  the  Christian  religion.  He  was  so  much 
struck  by  their  replies,  that  after  holding  a  council 
with  the  chief  persons  of  his  kingdom,  he  entreated 
the  two  brothers  to  go  on  his  part  as  ambassadors  to 
the  pope,  to  entreat  him  to  send  a  hundred  learned 
men  well  instructed  in  the  Christian  faith,  to  impart  a 
knowledge  of  it  to  the  sages  of  his  empire.  He  also 
entreated  them  to  bring  him  a  little  oil  from  the  lamp 
of  our  Saviour,  in  Jerusalem,  which  he  concluded  must 
have  marvellous  virtues.  It  has  been  supposed,  and 
with  great  reason,  that  under  this  covert  of  religion, 
the  shrewd  Tartar  sovereign  veiled  motives  of  a  polit- 
ical nature.  The  influence  of  the  pope  in  promoting 
the  crusades  had  caused  his  power  to  be  known  and 
respected  throughout  the  East  :  it  was  of  some 
moment,  therefore,  to  conciliate  his  good-will.  Cublai 


himself,  principally,  of  an  Italian  version  in  <he  Venetian 
tdition  of  Ramusio  (1606),  the  French  translation  by  Ber- 
geron, and  an  old  and  very  incorrect  Spanish  transla  ion. 
Having  since  procured  the  work  of  Mr.  Marsden  lie  has 
made  considerable  alterations  in  these  notices  of  Marco 
Polo. 


APPENDIX. 


205 


Khan  had  no  bigotry  nor  devotion  to  any  particular 
faith,  and  probably  hoped,  by  adopting  Christianity, 
to  make  it  a  common  cause  between  himself  and  the 
warlike  princes  of  Christendom,  against  his  and  their 
inveterate  enemies,  the  soldan  of  Egypt  and  the 
Saracens. 

Having  written  letters  to  the  pope  in  the  Tartar 
language,  he  delivered  them  to  the  Polos,  and  ap- 
pointed one  of  the  principal  noblemen  of  his  court  to  ac- 
company them  in  their  mission.  On  their  taking  leave 
he  furnished  them  with  a  tablet  of  gold  on  which  was 
engraved  the  royal  arms  ;  this  was  to  serve  as  a  pass- 
port, at  sight  of  which  the  governors  of  the  various 
provinces  were  to  entertain  them,  to  furnish  them 
with  escorts  through  dangerous  places,  and  render 
them  all  other  necessary  services  at  the  expense  of 
the  Great  Khan.- 

They  had  scarce  proceeded  twenty  miles,  when  the 
nobleman  who  accompanied  them  fell  ill,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  leave  him,  and  continue  on  their  route. 
Their  golden  passport  procured  them  every  attention 
and  facility  throughout  the  dominions  of  the  Great 
Khan.  They  arrived  safely  at  Acre,  in  April,  1269. 
Here  they  received  news  of  the  recent  death  of  Pope 
Clement  IV.,  at  which  they  were  much  grieved,  fear- 
ing it  would  cause  delay  in  their  mission.  There  was 
at  that  '.ime  in  Acre  a  legate  of  the  holy  chair,  Tebaldo 
di  Vesonti,  of  Placentia,  to  whom  they  gave  an  ac- 
count o"  their  embassy.  He  heard  them  with  great 
attention  and  interest,  and  advised  them  to  await  the 
election  of  a  new  pope,  which  must  soon  take  place, 
before  they  proceeded  to  Rome  on  their  mission. 
They  determined  in  the  interim  to  make  a  visit  to 
their  families,  and  accordingly  departed  for  Negropont , 
and  thence  to  Venice,  where  great  changes  had  taken 
place  in  their  domestic  concerns,  during  their  long 
absence.  The  wife  of  Nicholas,  whom  he  had  left 
pregnant,  had  died,  in  giving  birth  to  a  son,  who  had 
been  named  Marco. 

As  the  contested  election  for  the  new  pontiff  re- 
mained pending  for  two  years,  they  were  uneasy,  lest 
the  Emperor  of  Tartary  should  grow  impatient  at  so 
long  a  postponement  of  the  conversion  of  himself  and 
his  people  ;  they  determined,  therefore,  not  to  wait 
the  election  of  a  pope,  but  to  proceed  to  Acre,  and  get 
such  dispatches  and  such  ghostly  ministry  for  the 
Grand  Khan  as  the  legate  could  furnish.  On  the 
second  journey,  Nicholas  Polo  took  with  him  his  son 
Marco,  who  afterward  wrote  an  account  of  these 
travels. 

They  were  again  received  with  great  favor  by  the 
legate  Tebaldo.  who,  anxious  for  the  success  of  their 
mission,  furnished  them  with  letters  to  the  Grand 
Khan,  in  which  the  doctrines  of  the  Christian  faith 
were  fully  expounded.  With  these,  and  with  a  sup- 
ply of  the  holy  oil  from  the  sepulchre,  they  once  more 
set  out,  in  September,  1271,  for  the  remote  parts  of 
Tartary.  They  had  not  long  departed,  when  missives 
arrived  from  Rcme,  informing  the  legate  of  his  own 
election  to  the  holy  chair.  He  took  the  name  of 
Gregory  X.,  and  decreed  that  in  future,  on  the  death 
of  a  pope,  the  cardinals  should  be  shut  up  in  conclave 
until  they  elected  a  successor  ;  a  wise  regulation, 
which  has  since  continued,  enforcing  a  prompt  de- 
cision, and  preventing  intrigue. 

Immediately  on  receiving  intelligence  of  his  elec- 
tion, he  dispatched  a  courier  to  the  King  of  Armenia, 
requesting  that  the  two  Venetians  might  be  sent  back 
to  him,  if  'they  had  not  departed.  They  joyfully  re- 
turned, and  were  furnished  with  new  letters  to  the 
Khan.  Two  eloquent  friars,  also,  Nicholas  Vincent 
and  Gilbert  de  Tripoli,  were  sent  with  them,  with 
powers  to  ordain  priests  and  bishops  and  to  grant  ab- 
solution. They  had  presents  of  crystal  vases,  and 
other  costly  articles  to  deliver  to  the  Grand  Khan  ;  and 
thus  well  provided,  they  once  more  set  forth  on  their 
journey.* 

Arriving  in  Armenia,  they  ran  great  risk  of  their 


*  Ramusio,  torn.  iii. 


lives  from  the  war  which  was  raging,  the  soldan  of 
Babylon  having  invaded  the  country.  They  took 
refuge  for  some  time  with  the  superior  of  a  monastery. 
Here  the  two  reverend  fathers,  losing  all  courage  to 
prosecute  so  perilous  an  enterprise,  determined  to  re- 
main, and  the  Venetians  continued  their  journey. 
They  were  a  long  time  on  the  way,  and  exposed  to 
great  hardships  ana  sufferings  from  floods  and  snow- 
storms, it  being  the  winter  season.  At  length  they 
reached  a  town  in  the  dominions  of  the  Khan.  That 
potentate  sent  officers  to  meet  them  at  forty  days'  dis- 
tance from  the  court,  and  to  provide  quarters  for  them 
during  their  journey.*  He  received  them  with  great 
kindness,  was  highly  gratified  with  the  result  of  their 
mission  and  with  the  letters  of  the  pope,  and  having 
received  from  them  some  oil  from  the  lamp  of  the 
holy  sepulchre,  he  had  it  locked  up,  and  guarded  it  as 
a  precious  treasure. 

The  three  Venetians,  father,  brother,  and  son,  were 
treated  with  such  distinction  by  the  Khan,  that  the 
courtiers  were  filied  with  jealousy.  Marco  soon,  how- 
ever, made  himself  popular,  and  was  particularly  es- 
teemed by  the  emperor.  He  acquired  the  four  prin- 
cipal languages  of  the  country,  and  was  of  such  re- 
markable capacity  that,  notwithstanding  his  youth, 
the  Khan  employed  him  in  missions  and  services  of 
importance,  in  various  parts  of  his  dominions,  some 
to  the  distance  of  even  six  months'  journey.  On 
these  expeditions  he  was  industrious  in  gathering  all 
kinds  of  information  respecting  that  vast  empire  ; 
and  from  notes  and  minutes  made  for  the  satisfaction 
of  the  Grand  Khan,  he  afterward  composed  the  history 
of  his  travels. 

After  about  seventeen  years  residence  in  the  Tartar 
court  the  Venetians  felt  a  longing  to  return  to  their 
native  country.  Their  patron  was  advanced  in  age 
and  could  not  survive  much  longer,  and  after  his 
death,  their  return  might  be  difficult  if  not  impossible. 
They  applied  to  the  Grand  Khan  for  permission  to 
depart,  but  for  a  time  met  with  a  refusal,  accompanied 
by  friendly  upbraidings.  At  length  a  singular  train 
of  events  operated  in  their  favor  ;  an  embassy  arrived 
from  a  Mogul  Tartar  prince,  who  ruled  in  Persia,  and 
who  was  grand-nephew  to  the  emperor.  The  object 
was  to  entreat,  as  a  spouse,  a  princess  of  the  imperial 
lineage.  A  granddaughter  of  Cublai  Khan,  seventeen 
years  of  age,  and  of  great  beauty  and  accomplish- 
ments, was  granted  to  the  prayer  of  the  prince,  and 
departed  for  Persia  with  the  ambassadors,  and  with  a 
splendid  retinue,  but  after  travelling  for  some  months, 
was  obliged  to  return  on  account  of  the  distracted 
state  of  the  country. 

The  ambassadors  despaired  of  conveying  the  beau- 
tiful bride  to  the  arms  of  her  expecting  bridegroom, 
when  Marco  Polo  returned  from  a  voyage  to  certain 
of  the  Indian  islands.  His  representations  of  the 
safety  of  a  voyage  in  those  seas,  and  his  private  in- 
stigations, induced  the  ambassadors  to  urge  the  Grand 
Khan  for  permission  to  convey  the  princess  by  sea  to 
the  Gulf  of  Persia,  and  that  the  Christians  might  ac- 
company them,  as  being  best  experienced  in  maritime 
affairs.  Cublai  Khan  consented  with  great  reluctance, 
and  a  splendid  fleet  was  fitted  out  and  victualled  for 
two  years,  consisting  of  fourteen  ships  of  four  masts, 
some  of  which  had  crews  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
men. 

On  parting  with  the  Venetians  the  munificent  Khan 
gave  them  rich  presents  of  jewels,  and  made  them 
promise  to  return  to  him  after  they  had  visited  their 
families.  He  authorized  them  to  act  as  his  ambas- 
sadors to  the  principal  courts  of  Europe,  and,  as  on  a 
former  occasion,  furnished  them  with  tablets  of  gold, 
to  serve,  not  merely  as  passports,  but  as  orders  upon 
all  commanders  in  his  territories  for  accommodations 
and  supplies. 


*  Bergeron,  by  blunder  in  the  translation  from  the  orig- 
inal Latin,  has  stated  that  the  Khan  sent  40,000  men  to  es- 
cort them.  This  has  drawn  the  ire  of  the  critics  upon 
Marco  Polo,  who  have  cited  it  as  one  of  his  monstrous  ex- 
aggerations. 


2G6 


APPENDIX. 


They  set  sail  therefore  in  the  fleet  with  the  oriental 
princess  and  her  attendants  and  the  Persian  ambassa- 
dors. The  ships  swept  along  the  coast  of  Cochin 
China,  stopped  for  three  months  at  a  port  of  the  island 
of  Sumatra  near  the  western  entrance  of  the  Straits  of 
Malacca,  waiting  for  the  change  of  the  monsoon  to 
pass  the  Bay  of  Bengal.  Traversing  this  vast  expanse 
they  touched  at  the  island  of  Ceylon  and  then  crossed 
the  strait  to  the  southern  part  of  the  great  peninsula 
of  India.  Thence  sailing  up  the  Pirate  coast,  as  it  is 
called,  the  fleet  entered  the  Persian  Gulf  and  arrived 
at  the  famous  port  of  Olmuz,  where  it  is  presumed  the 
voyage  terminated,  alter  eighteen  months  spent  in 
traversing  the  Indian  seas. 

Unfortunately  for  the  royal  bride  who  was  the  ob- 
ject of  this  splendid  naval  expedition,  her  bridegroom, 
the  Mogul  king,  had  died  some  time  before  her  arrival, 
leaving  a  son  named  Ghazan,  during  whose  minority 
the  government  was  administered  by  his  uncle  Kai- 
Khatu.  According  to  the  directions  of  the  regent,  the 
princess  was  delivered  to  the  youthful  prince,  son  of 
her  intended  spouse.  He  was  at  that  time  at  the  head 
of  an  army  on  the  borders  of  Persia.  He  was  of  a 
diminutive  stature  but  pf  a  great  soul,  and,  on  after- 
Avard  ascending  the  throne,  acquired  renown  for  his 
talents  and  virtues.  What  became  of  the  Eastern 
bride,  who  had  travelled  so  far  in  quest  of  a  husband, 
is  not  known  ;  but  everything  favorable  is  to  be  in- 
ferred from  the  character  of  Ghazan. 

The  Polos  remained  some  time  in  the  court  of  the 
regent,  and  then  departed,  with  fresh  tablets  of  gold 
given  by  that  prince,  to  carry  them  in  safety  and  honor 
through  his  dominions.  As  they  had  to  traverse  many 
countries  where  the  traveller  is  exposed  to  extreme 
peril,  they  appeared  on  their  journeys  as  Tartars  of 
low  condition,  having  converted  all  their  wealth  into 
precious  stones  and  sewn  them  up  in  the  folds  and 
linings  of  their  coarse  garments.  They  had  a  long, 
difficult,  and  perilous  journey  to  Trebizond,  whence 
they  proceeded  to  Constantinople,  thence  to  Negro- 
pont,  and,  finally  to  Venice,  where  they  arrived  in 
1295,  in  good  health,  and  literally  laden  wilh  riches. 
Having  heard  during  their  journey  of  the  death  of  their 
old  benefactor,  Cublai  Khan,  they  considered  their 
diplomatic  functions  at  an  end,  and  also  that  they 
were  absolved  from  their  promise  to  return  to  his 
dominions. 

Ramusio,  in  his  preface  to  the  narrative  of  Marco 
Polo,  gives  a  variety  of  particulars  concerning  their 
arrival,  which  he  compares  to  that  of  Ulysses.  When 
they  arrived  at  Venice,  they  were  known  by  nobody. 
So  many  years  had  elapsed  since  their  departure  with- 
out any  tidings  of  them,  that  they  were  either  forgot- 
ten or  considered  dead.  Besides,  their  foreign  garb, 
the  influence  of  southern  suns,  and  the  similitude 
which  men  acquire  to  those  among  whom  they  reside 
for  any  length  of  time,  had  given  them  the  look  of 
Tartars  rather  than  Italians. 

They  repaired  to  their  own  house,  which  was  a 
noble  palace,  situated  in  the  street  of  St.  Giovanne 
Chrisostomo,  and  was  afterward  known  by  the  name 
of  la  Corte  de  la  Milione.  They  found  several  of 
their  relatives  still  inhabiting  it ;  but  they  were  slow 
in  recollecting  the  travellers,  not  knowing  of  their 
wealth,  and  probably  considering  them,  from  their 
coarse  and  foreign  attire,  poor  adventurers  returned 
to  be  a  charge  upon  their  families.  The  Polos  how- 
ever, took  an  effectual  mode  of  quickening  the  mem- 
ories of  their  friends,  and  insuring  themselves  a  lov- 
ing reception.  They  invited  them  all  to  a  grand  ban- 
quet. When  their  guests  arrived,  they  received  them 
richly  dressed  in  garments  of  crimson  satin  of  orien- 
tal fashion.  When  water  had  been  served  for  the 
washing  of  hands,  and  the  company  were  summoned 
to  table,  the  travellers,  who  had  retired,  appeared 
again  in  still  richer  robes  of  crimson  damask.  The 
first  dresses  were  cut  up  and  distributed  among  the 
servants,  being  of  such  length  that  they  swept  the 
ground,  which,  says  Ramusio,  was  the  mode  in  those 
days  with  dresses  worn  within  doors.  After  the  first 
course,  they  again  retired  and  came  in  dressed  in  crim- 


son velvet  ;  the  damask  dresses  being  likewise  given  to 
the  domestics,  and  the  same  was  done  at  the  end  of  the 
feast  with  their  velvet  robes,  when  they  appeared  in 
the  Venetian  dress  of  the  day.  The  guests  were  lost 
in  astonishment,  and  could  not  comprehend  the  mean- 
ing of  this  masquerade.  Having  dismissed  all  the  at- 
tendants, Marco  Polo  brought  forth  the  coarse  Tartar 
dresses  in  which  they  had  arrived.  Slashing  them  in 
several  places  with  a  knife,  and  ripping  open  the 
seams  and  lining,  there  tumbled  forth  rubies,  sap- 
phires, emeralds,  diamonds,  and  other  precious  stones, 
until  the  whole  table  glittered  with  inestimable  wealth, 
acquired  from  the  munificence  of  the  Grand  Khan, 
and  conveyed  in  this  portable  form  through  the  perils 
of  their  long  journey. 

The  company,  observes  Ramusio,  were  out  of  their 
wits  with  amazement,  and  now  clearly  perceived  what 
they  had  at  first  doubted,  that  these  in  very  truth  were 
those  honored  and  valiant  gentlemen  the  Polos,  and, 
accordingly,  paid  them  great  respect  and  reverence. 

The  account  of  this  curious  feast  is  given  by 
Ramusio,  on  traditional  authority,  having  heanl  it 
many  times  related  by  the  illustrious  Gasparo  Mali- 
piero,  a  very  ancient  gentleman,  and  a  senator,  of 
unquestionable  veracity,  who  had  it  from  his  /ather, 
who  had  it  from  his  grandfather,  and  so  on  up  to  the 
fountain-head. 

When  the  fame  of  this  banquet  and  of  the  wealth  of 
the  travellers  came  to  be  divulged  throughout  Venice, 
all  the  city,  noble  and  simple,  crowded  to  do  honor 
to  the  extraordinary  merit  of  the  Polus.  Maffao,  who 
was  the  eldest,  was  admitted  to  the  dignity  of  the 
magistracy.  The  youth  of  the  city  came  every  day  to 
visit  and  converse  with  Marco  Polo,  who  was  ex- 
tremely amiable  and  communicative.  They  were  in- 
satiable in  their  inquiries  about  Cathay  and  the  Grand 
Khan,  which  he  answered  with  great  courtesy,  giving 
details  with  which  they  were  vastly  delighted,  and,  as 
he  always  spoke  of  the  wealth  of  the  Grand  Khan  in 
round  numbers,  they  gave  him  the  name  of  Messer 
Marco  Milioni. 

Some  months  after  their  return,  LampaDoria,  com- 
mander of  the  Genoese  navy,  appeared  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  island  of  Curzola  with  seventy  galleys.  Andrea 
Dandolo,  the  Venetian  admiral,  was  sent  against  him. 
Marco  Polo  commanded  a  galley  of  the  fleet.  His 
usual  good  fortune  deserted  him.  Advancing  the  first 
in  the  line  with  his  galley,  and  not  being  properly 
seconded,  he  was  taken  prisoner,  thrown  in  irons,  and 
carried  to  Genoa.  Here  he  was  detained  for  a  long 
time  in  prison,  and  all  offers  of  ransom  rejected.  His 
imprisonment  gave  great  uneasiness  to  his  father  and 
uncle,  fearing  that  he  might  never  return.  Seeing 
themselves  in  this  unhappy  state,  with  so  much  treas- 
ure and  no  heirs,  they  consulted  together.  They  were 
both  very  old  men  ;  but  Nicolo,  observes  Ramusio, 
was  of  a  galliard  complexion  :  it  was  determined  he 
should  take  a  wife.  He  did  so  ;  and,  to  the  wonder 
of  his  friends,  in  four  years  had  three  children.  • 

In  the  mean  while  the  fame  of  Marco  Polo's  travels 
had  circulated  in  Genoa.  His  prison  was  daily 
crowded  with  nobility,  and  he  was  supplied  with 
everything  that  could  cheer  him  in  his  confinement. 
A  Genoese  gentleman,  who  visited  him  every  day,  at 
length  prevailed  upon  him  to  write  an  account  of 
what  he  had  seen.  He  had  his  papers  and  journals 
sent  to  him  from  Venice,  and  with  the  assistance  of 
his  friend,  or,  as  some  will  have  it,  his  fellow-prisoner, 
produced  the  work  which  afterward  made  such  noise 
throughout  the  world. 

The  merit  of  Marco  Polo  at  length  procured  him 
his  liberty.  He  returned  to  Venice,  where  he  found 
his  father  with  a  house  full  of  children.  He  took  it 
in  good  part,  followed  the  old  man's  example,  mar- 
ried, and  had  two  daughters,  Moretta  and  Fantina. 
The  date  of  the  death  of  Marco  Polo  is  unknown  ;  he 
is  supposed  to  have  been,  at  the  time,  about  seventy 
years  of  age.  On  his  death-bed  he  is  said  to  have 
been  exhorted  by  his  friends  to  retract  what  he  had 
published,  or,  at  least,  to  disavow  those  parts  com- 
monly regarded  as  fictions.  He  replied  indignantly 


APPENDIX. 


267 


that  so  far  from  having  exaggerated,  he  had  not  told 
one  half  of  the  extraordinary  things  of  which  he  had 
been  an  eye-witness. 

Marco  Polo  died  without  male  issue.  Of  the  three 
sons  of  his  father  by  the  second  marriage,  one  only 
had  children— viz. ,  five  sons  and  one  daughter.  The 
sons  died  without  leaving  issue  ;  the  daughter  in- 
herited all  her  father's  wealth  and  married  into  the 
noble  and  distinguished  house  of  Trevesino.  Thus 
the  male  line  of  the  Polos  ceased  in  1417,  and  the 
family  name  was  extinguished. 

Such  are  the  principal  particulars  known  of  Marco 
Polo,  a  man  whose  travels  for  a  long  time  made  a 
great  noise  in  Europe,  and  will  be  found  to  have  had 
a  great  effect  on  modern  discovery.  His  splendid 
account  of  the  extent,  wealth,  and  population  of  the 
Tartar  territories  filled  every  one  with  admiration. 
The  possibility  of  bringing  all  those  regions  under  the 
dominion  of  the  Church,  and  rendering  the  Grand 
Khan  an  obedient  vassal  to  the  holy  chair,  was  for  a 
long  time  a  favorite  topic  among  the  enthusiastic  mis- 
sionaries of  Christendom,  and  there  were  many  saints- 
errant  who  undertook  to  effect  the  conversion  of  this 
magnificent  infidel. 

Even  at  the  distance  of  two  centuries,  when  the  en- 
terprises for  the  discovery  of  the  new  route  to  India 
had  set  all  the  warm  heads  of  Europe  madding  about 
these  remote  regions  of  the  East,  the  conversion  of 
the  Grand  Khan  became  again  a  popular  theme  ;  and 
it  was  too  speculative  and  romantic  an  enterprise  not 
to  catch  the  vivid  imagination  of  Columbus.  In  all 
his  voyages,  he  will  be  found  continually  to  be  seek- 
ing after  the  territories  of  the  Grand  Khan,  and  even 
after  his  last  expedition,  when  nearly  worn  out  by 
age,  hardships,  and  infirmities,  he  offered,  in  a  letter 
to  the  Spanish  monarchs,  written  from  a  bed  of  sick- 
ness, to  conduct  any  missionary  to  the  territories  of 
the  Tartar  emperor,  who  would  undertake  his  con- 
version. 


No.  XXI. 

THE   \VORK   OF   MARCO   POLO. 

THE  work  of  Marco  Polo  is  stated  by  some  to  have 
been  originally  written  in  Latin,*  though  the  most 
probable  opinion  is  that  it  was  written  in  the  Venetian 
dialect  of  the  Italian.  Copies  of  it  in  manuscript  were 
multiplied  and  rapidly  circulated  ;  translations  were 
made  into  various  languages,  until  the  invention  of 
printing  enabled  it  to  be  widely  diffused  throughout 
Europe.  In  the  course  of  these  translations  and  suc- 
cessive editions,  the  original  text,  according  to  Pur- 
chas,  has  been  much  vitiated,  and  it  is  probable  many 
extravagances  in  numbers  and  measurements  with 
which  Marco  Polo  is  charged  may  be  the  errors  of 
translators  and  printers. 

When  the  work  first  appeared,  it  was  considered  by 
some  as  made  up  of  fictions  and  extravagances,  and 
Vossius  assures  us  that  even  after  the  death  of  Marco 
Polo  he  continued  to  be  a  subject  of  ridicule  among 
the  light  and  unthinking,  insomuch  that  he  was  fre- 
quently personated  at  masquerades  by  some  wit  or 
droll,  who,  in  his  feigned  character,  related  all  kinds 
of  extravagant  fables  and  adventures.  His  work, 
however,  excited  great  attention  among  thinking  men, 
containing  evidently  a  fund  of  information  concerning 
vast  and  splendid  countries,  before  unknown  to  the 
European  world.  Vossius  assures  us  that  it  was  at 
one  time  highly  esteemed  by  the  learned.  Francis 
Pepin,  author  of  the  Brandenburgh  version,  styles 
Polo  a  man  commendable  for  his  piety,  prudence,  and 
fidelity.  Athanasius  Kircher,  in  his  account  of  China, 
says  that  none  of  the  ancients  have  described  the  king- 
doms of  the  remote  East  with  more  exactness.  Vari- 
ous other  learned  men  of  past  times  have  borne  tes- 
timony to  his  character,  and  most  of  the  substantial 


1549- 


Hist,  des  Voyages,  torn,  xxvii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  3.     Paris, 


parts  of  his  work  have  been  authenticated  by  subse- 
quent travellers.  The  most  able  and  ample  vindica- 
tion of  Marco  Polo,  however,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
English  translation  of  his  work,  with  copious  notes 
and  commentaries,  by  William  Marsden,  F.  R.S.  He 
has  diligently  discriminated  between  what  Marco  Polo 
relates  from  his  own  observation,  and  what  he  relates 
as  gathered  from  others  ;  he  points  out  the  errors  that 
have  arisen  from  misinterpretations,  omissions,  or  in- 
terpretations of  translators,  and  he  claims  all  proper 
allowance  Jor  the  superstitious  coloring  of  parts  of 
the  narrative  from  the  belief,  prevalent  among  the 
most  wise  and  learned  of  his  day,  in  miracles  and 
magic.  After  perusing  the  work  of  Mr.  Marsden,  the 
character  of  Marco  Polo  rises  in  the  estimation  of  the 
reader.  It  is  evident  that  his  narration,  as  far  as  re- 
lated from  his  own  observations,  is  correct,  and  that 
he  had  really  traversed  a  great  part  of  Tartary  and 
China,  and  navigated  in  the  Indian  seas.  Some  of 
the  countries  and  many  of  the  islands,  however,  are 
evidently  described  from  accounts  given  by  others, 
and  in  these  accounts  are  generally  found  the  fables 
which  have  excited  incredulity  and  ridicule.  As  he 
composed  his  work  after  his  return  home,  partly  from 
memory  and  partly  from  memorandums,  he  was 
liable  to  confuse  what  he  had  heard  with  what  he  had 
seen,  and  thus  to  give  undue  weight  to  many  fables 
and  exaggerations  which  he  had  received  from  others. 

Much  has  been  said  of  a  map  brought  from  Cathay 
by  Marco  Polo,  which  was  conserved  in  the  convent 
of  San  Michale  de  Murano  in  the  vicinity  of  Venice, 
and  in  which  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  the  island 
of  Madagascar  were  indicated,  countries  which  the 
Portuguese  claim  the  merit  of  having  discovered  two 
centuries  afterward.  It  has  been  suggested  also  that 
Columbus  had  visited  the  convent  and  examined  this 
map,  whence  he  derived  some  of  his  ideas  concerning 
the  coast  of  India.  According  to  Ramusio,  however, 
who  had  been  at  the  convent,  and  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  prior,  the  map  preserved  there  was  one 
copied  by  a  friar  from  the  original  one  of  Marco  Polo, 
and  many  alterations  and  additions  had  since  been 
made  by  other  hands,  so  that  for  a  long  time  it  lost 
all  credit  with  judicious  people,  until  on  comparing  it 
with  the  work  of  Marco  Polo  it  was  found  in  the  main 
to  agree  with  his  descriptions.*  The  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  was  doubtless  among  the  additions  made  subse- 
quent to  the  discoveries  of  the  Portuguese.!  Colum- 
bus makes  no  mention  of  this  map,  which  he  most 
probably  would  have  done  had  he  seen  it.  He  seems 
to  have  been  entirely  guided  by  the  one  furnished  by 
Paulo  Toscanelli,  and  which  was  apparently  projected 
after  the  original  map,  or  after  the  descriptions  of 
Marco  Polo  and  the  maps  of  Ptolemy. 

When  the  attention  of  the  world  was  turned  toward 
the  remote  parts  of  Asia  in  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
the  Portuguese  were  making  their  attempts  to  circum- 
navigate Africa,  the  narration  of  Marco  Polo  again 
rose  to  notice.  This,  with  the  travels  of  Nicolo  de 
Comte,  the  Venetian,  and  of  Hieronimo  da  San 
Stefano,  a  Genoese,  are  said  to  have  been  the  princi- 
pal lights  by  which  the  Portuguese  guided  themselves 
in  their  voyages.^ 

Above  all,  the  influence  which  the  work  of  Marco 
Polo  had  over  the  mind  of  Columbus  gives  it  particu- 
lar interest  and  importance.  It  was  evidently  an 
oracular  work  with  him.  He  frequently  quotes  it,  and 
on  his  voyages,  supposing  himself  to  be  on  the  Asiatic 
coast,  he  is  continually  endeavoring  to  discover  the 
islands  and  main-lands  described  in  it,  and  to  find  the 
famous  Cipango. 

It  is  proper,   therefore,   to   specify  some  of  those 


*  Ramusio,  vol.  ii.  p.  17. 

t  Mr.  Marsden,  who  has  inspected  a  splendid  fac-simile 
of  this  map  preserved  in  the  British  Museum,  objects  even 
to  the  fundamental  part  of  it :  "  where,"  he  observes,  "  sit- 
uations are  given  to  places  that  seem  quite  inconsistent 
with  the  descriptions  in  the  travels,  and  cannot  be  attributed 
to  their  author,  although  inserted  on  the  supposed  author- 
ity of  his  writings."  Marsden's  M.  Polo.  Introd.  p.  xlii. 

t  Hist,  des  Voyages,  torn.  xl.  lib.  xi.  chap.  4. 


208 


APPENDIX. 


places,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  are  described 
by  a  Venetian  traveller,  that  the  reader  may  more 
fully  understand  the  anticipations  which  were  haunt- 
ing the  mind  of  Columbus  in  his  voyages  among  the 
West  Indian  islands,  and  along  the  coast  of  Terra 
Firma. 

The  winter  residence  of  the  Great  Khan,  according 
to  Marco  Polo,  was  in  the  city  of  Cambalu,  or  Kan- 
balu  (since  ascertained  to  be  Pekin),  in  the  province 
of  Cathay.  This  city,  he  says,  was  twenty-four  miles 
square,  and  admirably  built.  It  was  impossible,  ac- 
cording to  Marco  Polo,  to  describe  the  vast  amount 
and  variety  of  merchandise  and  manufactures  brought 
||here  ;  it  would  seem  they  were  enough  to  furnish  the 
universe.  "  Here  are  to  be  seen  in  wonderful  abun- 
dance the  precious  stones,  the  pearls,  the  silks,  and  the 
diverse  perfumes  of  the  East  ;  scarce  a  day  passes  that 
there  does  not  arrive  nearly  a  thousand  cars  laden 
with  silk,  of  which  they  make  admirable  stuffs  in  this 
city." 

The  palace  of  the  Great  Khan  is  magnificently  built, 
and  four  miles  in  circuit.  It  is  rather  a  group  of 
palaces.  In  the  interior  it  is  resplendent  with  gold 
and  silver  ;  and  in  it  are  guarded  the  precious  vases 
and  jewels  of  the  sovereign.  All  the  appointments  of 
the  Khan  for  war,  for  the  chase,  for  various  festivities, 
are  described  in  gorgeous  terms.  But  though  Marco 
Polo  is  magnificent  in  his  description  of  the  provinces 
of  Cathay,  and  its  imperial  city  of  Cambalu,  he  out- 
does himself  when  he  comes  to  describe  the  province 
of  Mangi.  This  province  is  supposed  to  be  the  south- 
ern part  of  China.  It  contains,  he  says,  twelve  hun- 
dred cities.  The  capital  Quinsai  (supposed  to  be  the 
city  of  Hang-cheu)  was  twenty-five  miles  from  the 
sea,  but  communicated  by  a  river  with  a  port  situated 
on  the  sea-coast,  and  had  great  trade  with  India. 

The  name  Quinsai,  according  to  Marco  Polo,  sig- 
nifies the  city  of  heaven  ;  he  says  he  has  been  in  it 
and  examined  it  diligently,  and  affirms  it  to  be  the 
largest  in  the  world  ;  and  so  undoubtedly  it  is  if  the 
measurement  of  the  traveller  is  to  be  taken  literally, 
for  he  declares  that  it  is  one  hundred  miles  in  circuit. 
This  seeming  exaggeration  has  been  explained  by 
supposing  him  to  mean  Chinese  miles  or  //.  which  are 
to  the  Italian  miles  in  the  proportion  of  three  to 
eight  ;  and  Mr.  Marsden  observes  tnat  the  walls  even 
of  the  modern  city,  the  limits  of  which  have  been 
considerably  contracted,  are  estimated  by  travellers 
at  sixty  II.  The  ancient  city  has  evidently  been  of 
immense  extent,  and  as  Marco  Poio  could  not  be  sup- 
posed to  have  measured  the  walls  himself,  he  has 
probably  taken  the  loose  and  incorrect  estimates  of 
the  inhabitants.  He  describes  it  also  as  built  upon 
little  islands  like  Venice,  and  has  twelve  thousand 
stone  bridges,*  the  arches  of  which  are  so  high  that 
the  largest  vessels  can  pass  under  them  without  lower- 
ing their  masts.  It  has,  he  affirms,  three  thousand 
baths,  and  six  hundred  thousand  families,  including 
domestics.  It  abounds  with  magnificent  nouses,  and 
has  a  lake  thirty  miles  in  circuit  within  its  walls,  on 
the  banks  of  which  are  superb  palaces  of  people  of 
rank.f  The  inhabitants  of  Quinsai  are  very  voluptu- 
ous, and  indulge  in  all  kinds  of  luxuries  and  delights, 
particularly  the  women,  who  are  extremely  beautiful. 
There  are  many  merchants  and  artisans,  but  the  mas- 
ters do  not  work,  they  employ  servants  to  do  all  their 
labor.  The  province  of  Mangi  was  conquered  by  the 

*  Another  blunder  in  translation  has  drawn  upon  Marco 
Polo  the  indignation  of  George  Hornius,  who  (in  his  Origin 
of  America,  iv.  3)  exclaims,  "Who  can  believe  all  that  he 
says  of  the  city  of  Quinsai?  as  for  example,  that  it  has 
stone  bridges  twelve  thousand  miles  high  !"  etc.  It  is 
probable  that  many  of  the  exaggerations  in  the  accounts  of 
Marco  Polo  are  in  fact  the  errors  of  his  translators. 

Mandeville,  speaking  of  this  same  city,  which  he  calls 
Causai,  says  it  is  built  on  the  sea  like  Venice,  and  has 
twelve  hundred  bridges. 

t  Sir  George  Staunton  mentions  this  lake  as  being  a  beau- 
tiful sheet  of  water,  about  three  or  four  miles  in  diameter ; 
its  margin  ornamented  with  houses  and  gardens  of  man- 
darins, together  with  temples,  monasteries  for  the  priests 
of  Fo,  and  an  imperial  palace. 


Great  Khan,  who  divided  it  into  nine  kingdoms,  ap- 
pointing to  each  a  tributary  king.  He  drew  from  it 
an  immense  revenue,  for  the  country  abounded  in 
gold,  silver,  silks,  sugar,  spices,  and  perfumes. 

ZIPANGU,  ZIPANGRI,   OR   CIPANGO. 

Fifteen  hundred  miles  from  the  shores  of  Mangi, 
according  to  Marco  Polo,  lay  the  great  island  of  Zi- 
pangu,  by  some  written  Zipangri,  and  by  Columbus 
Cipango.*  Marco  Polo  describes  it  as  abounding  in 
gold,  which,  however,  the  king  seldom  permits  to  be 
transported  out  of  the  island.  The  king  has  a  mag- 
nificent palace  covered  with  plates  of  gold,  as  in 
other  countries  the  palaces  are  covered  with  sheets  of 
lead  or  copper.  The  halls  and  chambers  are  likewise 
covered  with  gold,  the  windows  adorned  with  it,  some- 
times in  plates  of  the  thickness  of  two  fingers.  The 
island  also  produces  vast  quantities  of  the  largest  and 
finest  pearls,  together  with  a  variety  of  precious 
stones  ;  so  that,  in  fact,  it  abounds  in  riches.  The 
Great  Khan  made  several  attempts  to  conquer  this 
island,  but  in  vain  ;  which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
if  it  be  true  what  Marco  Polo  relates,  that  the  inhabi- 
tants had  certain  stones  of  a  charmed  virtue  inserted 
between  the  skin  and  the  flesh  of  their  right  arms, 
which,  through  the  power  of  diabolical  enchantments, 
rendered  them  invulnerable.  This  island  was  an  ob- 
ject of  diligent  search  to  Columbus. 

About  the  island  of  Zipangu  or  Cipango,  and  be- 
tween it  and  the  coast  of  Mangi,  the  sea,  according  to 
Marco  Polo,  is  studded  with  small  islands  to  the  num- 
ber of  seven  thousand  four  hundred  and  forty,  of 
which  the  greater  part  are  inhabited.  There  is  not 
one  which  does  not  produce  odoriferous  trees  and  per- 
fumes in  abundance.  Columbus  thought  himself  at 
one  time  in  the  midst  of  these  islands. 

Thesf  are  the  principal  places  described  by  Marco 
Polo,  which  occur  in  the  letters  and  journals  of  Colum- 
bus. The  island  of  Cipango  was  the  first  land  he  ex- 
pected to  make,  and  he  intended  to  visit  afterward 
the  province  of  Mangi,  and  to  seek  the  Great  Khan  in 
his  city  of  Cambalu,  in  the  province  of  Cathay.  Un- 
less the  reader  can  bear  in  mind  these  sumptuous  de- 
scriptions of  Marco  Polo,  of  countries  teeming  with 
wealth,  and  cities  where  the  very  domes  and  palaces 
flamed  with  gold,  he  will  have  but  a  faint  idea  of  the 
splendid  anticipations  which  filled  the  imagination  of 
Columbus  when  he  discovered,  as  he  supposed,  the 
extremity  of  Asia.  It  was  his  confident  expectation 
of  soon  arriving  at  these  countries,  and  realizing  the 
accounts  of  the  Venetian,  that  induced  him  to  hold 
forth  those  promises  of  immediate  wealth  to  the  sov- 
ereigns, which  caused  so  much  disappointment,  and 
brought  upon  him  the  frequent  reproach  of  exciting 
false  hopes  and  indulging  in  wilful  exaggeration. 


No.  XXII. 

SIR  JOHN   MANDEVILLE. 

NEXT  to  Marco  Polo  the  travels  of  Sir  John  Man- 
deville, and  his  account  of  the  territories  of  the  Great 
Khan  along  the  coast  of  Asia,  seem  to  have  been 
treasured  up  in  the  mind  of  Columbus. 

Mandeville  was  born  in  the  city  of  St.  Albans.  He 
was  devoted  to  study  from  his  earliest  childhood,  and 
after  finishing  his  general  education  applied  himself 
to  medicine.  Having  a  great  desire  to  see  the  re- 

*  Supposed  to  be  those  islands  collectively  called  Japan. 
They  are  named  by  the  Chinese,  Ge-pen,  the  terminating 
syllable  gn  added  by  Marco  Polo,  is  supposed  to  be  the 
Chinese  word  kue,  signifying  kingdom,  whicli  is  commonly 
annexed  to  the  names  of  foreign  countries.  As  the  dis- 
tance of  the  nearest  part  of  the  southern  island  from  the 
coast  of  China,  near  Ning-po,  is  not  more  than  five  hun- 
dred Italian  miles,  Mr.  Marsden  supposes  Marco  Polo  in 
stating  it  to  be  1500,  means  Chinese  miles,  or  li,  which 
are  in  the  proportion  of  somewhat  more  than  one  third  of 
the  former. 


APPENDIX. 


2G9 


motest  parts  of  the  earth,  then  known,  that  is  to  say, 
Asia  and  Africa,  and  above  all,  to  visit  the  Holy 
Land,  he  left  England  in  1332,  and  passing  through 
France  embarked  at  Marseilles.  According  to  his 
own  account  he  visited  Turkey,  Armenia,  Egypt, 
Upper  and  Lower  Lybia,  Syria,  Persia,  Chaldea, 
Ethiopia,  Tartary,  Amazonia  and  the  Indies,  residing 
in  their  principal  cities.  But  most  he  says  he  de- 
lighted in  the  Holy  Land,  where  he  remained  for  a 
long  time,  examining  it  with  the  greatest  minuteness, 
and  endeavoring  to  follow  all  the  traces  of  our  Saviour. 
After  an  absence  of  thirty-four  years  he  returned  to 
England,  but  found  himself  forgotten  and  unknown 
by  the  greater  part  of  his  countrymen,  and  a  stranger 
in  his  native  place.  He  wrote  a  history  of  his  travels  in 
three  languages — English,  French,  and  Latin— for  he 
was  master  of  many  tongues.  He  addressed  his  work 
to  Edward  III.  His  wanderings  do  not  seem  to 
have  made  him  either  pleased  with  the  world  at  large 
or  contented  with  his  home.  He  railed  at  the  age, 
saying  that  there  was  no  more  virtue  extant,  that  the 
Church  was  ruined  ;  error  prevalent  among  the  clergy  ; 
simony  upon  the  throne  ;  and,  in  a  word,  that  the 
devil  reigned  triumphant.  He  soon  returned  to  the 
continent,  and  died  at  Liege  in  1372.  He  was  buried 
in  the  abbey  of  the  Gulielmites,  in  the  suburbs  of  that 
city,  where  Ortelius,  in  his  Itinerarium  Belgian,  says 
that  he  saw  his  monument,  on  which  was  the  effigy, 
in  stone,  of  a  man  with  a  forked  beard  and  his  hands 
raised  toward  his  head  (probably  folded  as  in  prayer, 
according  to  the  manner  of  old  tombs)  and  a  lion  at 
his  feet.  There  was  an  inscription  stating  his  name, 
quality,  and  calling  (viz.,  professor  of  medicine),  that 
he  was  very  pious,  very  learned,  and  very  charitable 
to  the  poor,  and  that  after  having  travelled  over  the 
whole  world  he  had  died  at  Liege.  The  people  of  the 
convent  showed  also  his  spurs,  and  the  housings  of 
the  horses  which  he  had  ridden  in  his  travels. 

The  descriptions  given  by  Mandeville  ot  the  Grand 
Khan,  of  the  province  of  Cathay,  and  the  city  of 
Cambalu,  are  no  less  splendid  than  those  of  Marco 
Polo.  The  royal  palace  was  more  than  two  leagues 
in  circumference.  The  grand  hall  had  twenty-four 
columns  of  copper  and  gold.  There  were  more  than 
three  hundred  thousand  men  occupied  and  living  in 
and  about  the  palace,  of  which  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand  %vere  employed  in  taking  care  of  ten  thou- 
sand elephants  and  of  a  vast  variety  of  other  animals, 
birds  of  prey,  falcons,  parrots,  and  parroquets.  On 
days  of  festival  there  were  even  twice  the  number  of 
men  employed.  The  title  of  this  potentate  in  his  let- 
ters was  "  Khan,  the  son  of  God,  exalted  possessor 
of  all  the  earth,  master  of  those  who  are  masters  of 
others."  On  his  seal  was  engraved,  "  God  reigns  in 
heaven,  Khan  upon  earth." 

Mandeville  has  become  proverbial  for  indulging  in 
a  traveller's  exaggerations  ;  yet  his  accounts  of  the 
countries  which  he  visited  have  been  found  far  more 
veracious  than  had  been  imagined.  His  descriptions 
of  Cathay  and  the  wealthy  province  of  Mangi,  agree- 
ing with  those  of  Marco  Polo,  had  great  authority 
with  Columbus. 


No.  XXIII. 

THE    ZONES. 

THE  zones  were  imaginary  bands  or  circles  in  the 
heavens  producing  an  effect  of  climate  on  correspond- 
ing belts  on  the  globe  of  the  earth.  The  polar  circles 
and  the  tropics  mark  these  divisions. 

The  central  region,  lying  beneath  the  track  of  the 
sun,  was  termed  the  torrid  zone  ;  the  two  regions  be- 
tween the  tropics  and  the  polar  circles  were  termed 
the  temperate  zones,  and  the  remaining  parts,  be- 
tween the  polar  circles  and  the  poles,  the  frigid  zones. 

The  frozen  regions  near  the  poles  were  considered 
uninhabitable  and  unnavigable  on  account  of  the  ex- 
treme cold.  The  burning  zone,  or  rather  the  central 
part  of  it,  immediately  about  the  equator,  was  con- 


sidered uninhabitable,  unproductive,  and  impassable 
in  consequence  of  the  excessive  heat.  The  temperate 
zones,  lying  between  them,  were  supposed  to  be  fer- 
tile and  salubrious,  and  suited  to  the  purposes  of  life. 

The  globe  was  divided  into  two  hemispheres  by  the 
equator,  an  imaginary  line  encircling  it  at  equal  dis- 
tance from  the  poles.  The  whole  of  the  world  known 
to  the  ancients  was  contained  in  the  temperate  zone 
of  the  northern  hemisphere. 

It  was  imagined  that  if  there  should  be  inhabitants 
in  the  temperate  zone  of  the  southern  hemisphere, 
there  could  still  be  no  communication  with  them  on 
account  of  the  burning  zone  which  intervened. 

Parmenides,  according  to  Sirabo,  was  the  inventor 
of  this  theory  of  the  five  zones,  but  he  made  the  torrid 
zone  extend  on  each  side  of  the  equator  beyond  the 
tropics,  Aristotle  supported  this  doctrine  of  the 
zones.  In  his  time  nothing  was  known  of  the  ex- 
treme northern  parts  of  Europe  and  Asia,  nor  of  in- 
terior Ethiopia  and  the  southern  part  of  Africa,  ex- 
tending beyond  the  tropic  of  Capricorn  to  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.  Aristotle  believed  that  there  was 
habitable  earth  in  the  southern  hemisphere,  but  that 
it  was  forever  divided  from  the  part  of  the  world 
already  known,  by  the  impassable  zone  of  scorching 
heat  at  the  equator.* 

Pliny  supported  the  opinion  of  Aristotle  concerning 
the  burning  zones.  "  The  temperature  of  the  central 
region  of  the  earth,"  he  observes,  "  where  the  sun 
runs  his  course,  is  burnt  up  as  with  fire.  The  tem- 
perate zones  which  lie  on  either  side  can  have  no  com- 
munication with  each  other  in  consequence  of  the 
fervent  heat  of  this  region. "f 

Strabo  (lib.  xi.),  in  mentioning  this  theory,  gives  it 
likewise  his  support  ;  and  others  of  the  ancient  phi- 
losophers, as  well  as  the  poets,  might  be  cited  to  show 
the  general  prevalence  of  the  belief. 

It  must  be  observed  that,  at  the  time  when  Colum- 
bus defended  his  proposition  before  the  learned  board 
at  Salamanca,  the  ancient  theory  of  the  burning  zone 
had  not  yet  been  totally  disproved  by  modern  dis- 
covery. The  Portuguese,  it  is  true,  had  penetrated 
within  the  tropics  ;  but,  though  the  whole  of  the  ppace 
between  the  tropic  of  Cancer  and  that  of  Capricorn, 
in  common  parlance,  was  termed  the  torrid  zone,  the 
uninhabitable  and  impassable  part,  sttictly  speaking, 
according  to  the  doctrine  of  the  ancients,  only  ex- 
tended a  limited  number  of  degrees  on  each  side  of 
the  equator,  forming  about  a  third,  or  at  most,  the 
half  of  the  zone.  The  proofs  which  Columbus  en- 
deavored to  draw  therefore  from  the  voyages  made  to 
St.  George  la  Mina,  were  not  conclusive  with  those 
who  were  bigoted  to  the  ancient  theory,  and  who 
placed  this  scorching  region  still  farther  southward, 
and  immediately  about  the  equator. 


No.  XXIV. 

OF   THE  ATALANTIS   OF   PLATO. 

THE  island  Atalantis  is  mentioned  by  Plato  in  his 
dialogue  of  Timceus.  Solon,  the  Athenian  lawgiver, 
is  supposed  to  have  travelled  into  Egypt.  He  is  in  an 
ancient  city  on  the  Delta,  the  fertile  island  formed  by 
the  Nile,  and  is  holding  converse  with  certain  learned 
priests  on  the  antiquities  of  remote  ages,  when  one 
of  them  gives  him  a  description  of  the  island  of  Ata- 
lantis, and  of  its  destruction,  which  he  describes  as 
having  taken  place  before  the  conflagration  of  the 
world  by  Phaeton. 

This  island,  he  was  told,  had  been  situated  in  the 
Western  Ocean,  opposite  to  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar. 
There  was  an  easy  passage  from  it  to  other  islands, 
which  lay  adjacent  to  a  large  continent,  exceeding  in 
size  all  Europe  and  Asia.  Neptune  settled  in  this 
island,  from  whose  son  Atlas  its  name  was  derived, 
and  he  divided  it  among  his  ten  sons.  His  descend- 


*  Aristot.,  2  Met.  cap.  5. 
t  Pliny,  lib.  i.  cap.  61. 


270 


APPENDIX. 


ants  reigned  here  in  regular  succession  for  many  ages. 
They  made  irruptions  into  Europe  and  Africa,  sub- 
duing all  Lybia  as  far  as  Egypt,  and  Europe  to  Asia 
Minor.  They  were  resisted,  however,  by  the  Atheni- 
ans, and  driven  back  to  their  Atlantic  teiritories. 
Shortly  after  this  there  was  a  tremendous  earthquake 
and  an  overflowing  of  the  sea,  which  continued  for  a 
day  and  a  night.  In  the  course  of  this  the  vast  island 
of  Atalantis,  and  all  its  splendid  cities  and  warlike 
nations,  were  swallowed  up,  and  sunk  to  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  which,  spreading  its  waters  over  the  chasm, 
formed  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  For  a  long  time,  how- 
ever, the  sea  was  not  navigable,  on  account  of  rocks 
and  shelves,  of  mud  and  slime,  and  of  the  ruins  of 
that  drowned  country. 

Many,  in  modern  times,  have  considered  this  a 
mere  fable  ;  others  suppose  that  Plato,  while  in  Egypt, 
had  received  some  vague  accounts  of  the  Canary 
Islands,  and,  on  his  return  to  Greece,  finding  those 
islands  so  entirely  unknown  to  his  countrymen,  had 
made  them  the  seat  of  his  political  and  moral  specu- 
lations. Some,  however,  have  been  disposed  to  give 
greater  weight  to  this  story  of  Plato.  They  imagine 
that  such  an  island  may  really  have  existed,  filling  up 
a  great  part  of  the  Atlantic,  and  that  the  continent  be- 
yond it  was  America,  which,  in  such  case,  was  not 
unknown  to  the  ancients.  Kircher  supposes  it  to 
have  been  an  island  extending  from  the  Canaries  to 
the  Azores  ;  that  it  was  really  engulfed  in  one  of  the 
convulsions  of  the  globe,  and  that  those  small  islands 
are  mere  shattered  fragments  of  it. 

As  a.  further  proof  that  the  New  World  was  not  un- 
known to  the  ancients,  many  have  cited  the  singular 
passage  in  the  Medea  of  Seneca,  which  is  wonderfully 
apposite,  and  shows,  at  least,  how  nearly  the  warm 
imagination  yf  a  poet  may  approach  to  prophecy. 
The  predictions  of  the  ancient  oracles  were  rarely  so 
unequivocal. 

Venient  annis 

Snecula  sens,  quibus  Oceanus 
Vincula  rerum  laxet,  et  ingens 
Pateat  tellus,  Typhisque  novos 
Detegat  orbes,  nee  sit  teiris 
Ultima  Thule. 

Gosselin,  in  his  able  research  into  the  voyages  of  the 
ancients,  supposes  the  Atalantis  of  Plato  to  have  been 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  one  of  the  nearest  of  the 
Canaries,  viz.,  Fortaventura  or  Lancerote. 


No.  XXV. 

THE   IMAGINARY   ISLAND   OF   ST.    BRANDAN. 

ONE  of  the  most  singular  geographical  illusions  on 
record  is  that  which  for  a  long  while  haunted  the  im- 
aginations of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Canaries.  They 
fancied  they  beheld  a  mountainous  island,  about  ninety 
leagues  in  length,  lying  far  to  the  westward.  It  was 
only  seen  at  intervals,  but  in  perfectly  clear  and 
serene  weather.  To  some  it  seemed  one  hundred 
leagues  distant,  to  others  forty,  to  others  only  fifteen 
or  eighteen.*  On  attempting  to  reach  it,  however,  it 
somehow  or  other  eluded  the  search,  and  was  nowhere 
to  be  found.  Still  there  were  so  many  eye-witnesses 
of  credibility  who  concurred  in  testifying  to  their  hav- 
ing seen  it,  and  the  testimony  of  the  inhabitants  of 
different  islands  agreed  so  well  as  to  its  form  and 
position,  that  its  existence  was  generally  believed,  and 
geographers  inserted  it  in  their  maps.  It  is  laid  down 
on  the  globe  of  Martin  Behem,  projected  in  1492,  as 
delineated  by  M.  De  Murr,  and  it  will  be  found  in 
most  of  the  maps  of  the  time  of  Columbus,  placed 
commonly  about  two  hundred  leagues  west  of  the 
Canaries.  During  the  time  that  Columbus  was  mak- 
ing his  proposition  to  the  court  of  Portugal,  an  inhab- 
itant of  the  Canaries  applied  to  King  John  II.  for  a 
vessel  to  go  in  search  of  this  island.  In  the  archives 


*  Feyjoo,  Theatro  Critico,  torn.  iv.  d.  10,  $  29. 


of  the  Torre  do  Tombo  *  also,  there  is  a  record  of  a 
contract  made  by  the  crown  of  Portugal  with  Fernando 
de  Ulmo,  cavalier  of  the  royal  household,  and  captain 
of  the  island  of  Tercera,  wherein  he  undertakes  to  go, 
at  his  own  expense,  in  quest  of  an  island  or  islands, 
or  Terra  Firma,  supposed  to  be  the  island  of  the  Seven 
Cities,  on  condition  of  having  jurisdiction  over  the 
same  for  himself  and  his  heirs,  allowing  one  tenth  of 
the  revenues  to  the  king.  This  Ulmo,  finding  the  ex- 
pedition above  his  capacity,  associated  one  Juan  Al- 
fonso del  Estreito  in  the  enterprise.  They  were 
bound  to  be  ready  to  sail  with  two  caravels  in  the 
month  of  March,  1487.!  The  fate  of  their  enterprise 
is  unknown. 

The  name  of  St.  Brandan,  or  Borondon,  given  to 
this  imaginary  island  from  time  immemorial,  is  said 
to  be  derived  from  a  Scotch  abbot,  who  flourished  in 
the  sixth  century,  and  who  is  called  sometimes  by  the 
foregoing  appellations,  sometimes  St.  Blandano,  or 
St.  Blandanus.  In  the  Martyrology  of  the  order  of 
St.  Augustine,  he  is  said  to  have  been  the  patriarch  of 
three  thousand  monks.  About  the  middle  of  the  sixth 
century  he  accompanied  his  disciple,  St.  Maclovio, 
or  St.  Malo,  in  search  of  certain  islands  possessing 
the  delights  of  paradise,  which  they  were  told  existed 
in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  and  were  inhabited  by  in- 
fidels. These  most  adventurous  saints-errant  wan- 
dered for  a  long  time  upon  the  ocean,  and  at  length 
landed  upon  an  island  called  Ima.  Here  St.  Malo 
found  the  body  of  a  giant  lying  in  a  sepulchre.  He 
resuscitated  him,  and  had  much  interesting  conversa- 
tion with  him,  the  giant  informing  him  that  the  inhab- 
itants of  that  island  had  some  notions  of  the  Trinity, 
and,  moreover,  giving  him  a  gratifying  account  of  the 
torments  which  Jews  and  Pagans  suffered  in  the  in- 
fernal regions.  Finding  the  giant  so  docile  and  reason- 
able, St.  Malo  expounded  to  him  the  doctrines  of  the 
Christian  religion,  converted  him,  and  baptized  him 
by  the  name  of  Mildum.  The  giant,  however,  either 
through  weariness  of  life  or  eagerness  to  enjoy  the 
benefits  of  his  conversion,  begged  permission,  at  the 
end  of  fifteen  days,  to  die  again,  which  was  granted 
him. 

According  to  another  account,  the  giant  told  them 
he  knew  of  an  island  in  the  ocean,  defended  by  walls 
of  burnished  gold,  so  resplendent  that  they  shone  like 
crystal,  but  to  which  there  was  no  entrance.  At  their 
request  he  undertook  to  guide  them  to  it,  and  taking 
the  cable  of  their  ship,  threw  himself  into  the  sea. 
He  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when  a  tempest 
rose,  and  obliged  them  all  to  return,  and  shortly  after 
the  giant  died.:):  A  third  legend  makes  the  saint  pray 
to  heaven  on  Easter  day,  that  they  may  be  permitted 
to  find  land  where  they  may  celebrate  the  offices  of 
religion  with  becoming  state.  An  island  immediately 
appears,  on  which  they  land,  perform  a  solemn  mass 
and  the  sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  ;  after  which,  re- 
embarking  and  making  sail,  they  behold  to  their 
astonishment  the  supposed  island  suddenly  plunge  to 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  being  nothing  else  than  a  mon- 
strous whale.§  When  the  rumor  circulated  of  an 
island  seen  from  the  Canaries,  which  always  eluded 
the  search,  the  legends  of  St.  Brandan  were  revived, 
and  applied  to  this  unapproachable  land.  We  are 
told,  also,  that  there  was  an  ancient  Latin  manuscript 
in  the  archives  of  the  cathedral  church  of  the  Grand 
Canary,  in  which  the  adventures  of  these  saints  were 
recorded.  Through  carelessness,  however,  this 
manuscript  has  disappeared.!  Some  have  main- 
tained that  this  island  was  known  to  the  ancients,  and 
was  the  same  mentioned  by  Ptolemy  among  the  For- 
tunate or  Canary  Islands,  by  the  names  of  Aprositus.*[ 
or  the  Inaccessible  ;  and  which,  according  to  friar 

*  Lib.  iv.  de  la.  Chancelaria  del  Rey  Dn.  Juan  II.  fol. 
101. 

t  Torre  do  Tombo.     Lib.  das  Ylhas,  f.  119. 
J  Fr.   Gregorio    Garcia,   Origen    de   los   Indios,    lib.   i. 
cap.  9. 

Sigeberto,  Epist.  ad  Tietmar.     Abbat. 

Nunez  de  la  Pena.     Conquist  de  la  Gran  Canaria. 

Ptolemy,  lib.  iv.  torn.  iv. 


APPENDIX. 


271 


Diego  Philipo  in  his  book  on  the  Incarnation  of  Christ, 
shows  that  it  possessed  the  same  quality  in  ancient 
limes  of  deluding  the  eye  and  being  unattainable  to 
the  feet  of  mortals.*  But  whatever  belief  the  an- 
cients may  have  had  on  this  subject,  it  is  certain  that 
it  took  a  strong  hold  on  the  faith  of  the  moderns  dur- 
ing the  prevalent  rage  for  discovery  ;  nor  did  it  lack 
abundant  testimonials.  Don  Joseph  de  Viera  y  Clavijo 
says,  there  never  was  a  more  difficult  paradox  nor 
problem  in  the  science  of  geography  ;  since  to  affirm 
the  existence  of  this  island  is  to  trample  upon  sound 
cr'ticism,  judgment,  and  reason  ;  and  to  deny  it  one 
must  abandon  tradition  and  experience,  and  suppose 
that  many  persons  of  credit  had  not  the  proper  use  of 
their  senses,  f 

The  belief  in  this  island  has  continued  long  since  the 
time  of  Columbus.  It  was  repeatedly  seen,  and  by 
various  persons  at  a  time,  always  in  the  same  place 
and  of  the  same  form.  In  1526  an  expedition  set  off 
for  the  Canaries  in  quest  of  it,  commanded  by  Fer- 
nando de  Troya  and  Fernando  Alvarez.  They  cruised 
in  the  wonted  direction,  but  in  vain,  and  their  failure 
ought  to  have  undeceived  the  public.  "  The  phan- 
tasm of  the  island,  however,"  says  Viera,  "  had  such 
a  secret  enchantment  for  all  who  beheld  it,  that  the 
public  preferred  doubting  the  good  conduct  of  the  ex- 
plorers, than  their  own  senses."  In  1570  the  appear- 
ances were  so  repeated  and  clear  that  there  was  a 
universal  fever  of  curiosity  awakened  among  the 
people  of  the  Canaries,  and  it  was  determined  to  send 
forth  another  expedition. 

That  they  might  not  appear  to  act  upon  light 
grounds,  an  exact  investigation  was  previously  made 
of  all  the  persons  of  talent  and  credibility  who  had 
seen  these  apparitions  of  land,  or  who  had  other 
proofs  of  its  existence. 

Alonzode  Espinosa,  governor  of  the  island  of  Ferro, 
accordingly  made  a  report,  in  which  more  than  one 
hundred  witnesses,  several  of  them  persons  of  the 
highest  respectability,  deposed  that  they  had  beheld 
the  unknown  island  about  forty  leagues  to  the  north- 
west of  Ferro  ;  that  they  had  contemplated  it  with 
calmness  and  certainty,  and  had  seen  the  sun  set  be- 
hind one  of  its  points. 

Testimonials  of  still  greater  force  came  from  the 
islands  of  Palma  and  Teneriffe.  There  were  certain 
Portuguese  who  affirmed  that,  being  driven  about  by 
a  tempest,  they  had  come  upon  the  island  of  St. 
Borondon.  Pedro  Velio,  who  was  the  pilot  of  the 
vessel,  affirmed  that,  having  anchored  in  a  bay,  he 
landed  with  several  of  the  crew.  They  drank  fresh 
water  in  a  brook,  and  beheld  in  the  sand  the  print  of 
footsteps,  double  the  size  of  those  of  an  ordinary  man, 
and  the  distance  between  them  was  in  proportion. 
They  found  a  cross  nailed  to  a  neighboring  tree  ;  near 
to  which  were  three  stones  placed  in  form  of  a  triangle, 
with  signs  of  fire  having  been  made  among  them, 
probably  to  cook  shell-fish.  Having  seen  much  cattle 
and  sheep  grazing  in  the  neighborhood,  two  of  their 
party  armed  with  lances  went  into  the  woods  in  pur- 
suit of  them.  The  night  was  approaching,  the  heavens 
began  to  lower,  and  a  harsh  wind  arose.  The  people 
on  board  the  ship  cried  out  that  she  was  dragging  her 
anchor,  whereupon  Velio  entered  the  boat  and  hurried 
on  board.  In  an  instant  they  lost  sight  of  land,  being 
as  it  were  swept  away  in  the  hurricane.  When  the 
storm  had  passed  away,  and  the  sea  and  sky  were 
again  serene,  they  searched  in  vain  for  the  island  ; 
not  a  trace  of  it  was  to  be  seen,  and  they  had  to  pur- 
sue their  voyage,  lamenting  the  loss  of  their  two  com- 
panions who  had  been  abandoned  in  the  wood.t 

A  learned  licentiate,  Pedro  Ortiz  de  Funez,  in- 
quisitor of  the  Grand  Canary,  while  on  a  visit  at 
Teneriffe,  summoned  several  persons  before  him,  who 
testified  having  seen  the  island.  Among  them  was  one 
Marcos  Verde,  a  man  well  known  in  those  parts.  He 


*  Fr.  D.  Philipo,  lib.  viii.  fol.  25. 
.   t  Hist.  Isl.  Can.,  lib.  i.  cap.  28. 

I  Nunez  de  la  Pena,  lib.  i.  cap.  i.    Viera  Hist.  Isl.  Can. 
torn.  i.  cap.  28. 


stated  that  in  returning  from  Barbary  and  arriving  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  Canaries,  he  beheld  land, 
which,  according  to  his  maps  and  calculations,  could 
not  be  any  of  the  known  islands.  He  concluded  it  to 
be  the  far-tamed  St.  Borondon.  Overjoyed  at  having 
discovered  this  land  of  mystery,  he  coasted  along  its 
spell-bound  shores  until  he  anchored  in  a  beautiful 
harbor  formed  by  the  mouth  of  a  mountain  ravine. 
Here  he  landed  with  several  of  his  crew.  It  was 
now,  he  said,  the  hour  of  the  Ave  Maria,  or  of  ves- 
pers. The  sun  being  set,  the  shadows  began  to  spread 
over  the  land.  The  voyagers  having  separated,  wan- 
dered about  in  different  directions,  until  out  of  hearing 
of  each  other's  shouts.  Those  on  board,  seeing  the 
night  approaching,  made  signal  to  summon  back  the 
wanderers  to  the  ship.  They  re-embarked,  intending 
to  resume  their  investigations  on  the  following  day. 
Scarcely  were  they  on  board,  however,  when  a  whiil- 
wing  came  rushing  down  the  ravine  with  such  vio- 
lence as  to  drag  the  vessel  from  her  anchor  and  hurry 
her  out  to  sea,  and  they  never  saw  anything  more  cf 
this  hidden  and  inhospitable  island. 

Another  testimony  remains  on  record  in  manuscript 
of  one  Abreu  Galindo  ;  but  whether  taken  at  this  time 
does  not  appear.  It  was  that  of  a  French  adventurer, 
who,  many  years  before,  making  a  voyage  among  the 
Canaries,  was  overtaken  by  a  violent  storm  which  car- 
ried away  his  masts.  At  length  the  furious  winds 
drove  him  to  the  shores  of  an  unknown  island  covered 
with  stately  trees.  Here  he  landed  with  part  of  his 
crew,  and  choosing  a  tree  proper  for  a  mast,  cut  it 
down,  and  began  to  shape  it  for  his  purpose.  The 
guardian  power  of  the  island,  however,  resented  as 
usual  this  invasion  of  his  forbidden  shores.  The 
heavens  assumed  a  dark  and  threatening  aspect  ;  the 
night  was  approaching,  and  the  mariners,  fearing 
some  impending  evil,  abandoned  their  labor  and  re- 
turned on  board.  They  were  borne  away  as  usual 
from  the  coast,  and  the  next  day  arrived  at  the  island 
of  Palma.* 

The  mass  of  testimony  collected  by  official  authority 
in  1750  seemed  so  satisfactory  that  another  expe- 
dition was  fitted  out  in  the  same  year  in  the  island  of 
Palma.  It  was  commanded  by  Fernando  de  Villa- 
bolos,  regidor  of  the  island,  but  was  equally  fruitless 
with  the  preceding.  St.  Borondon  seemed  disposed 
only  to  tantalize  the  world  with  distant  and  serene 
glimpses  of  his  ideal  paradise,  or  to  reveal  it  amid 
storms  to  tempest-tossed  mariners,  but  to  hide  it  com- 
pletely from  the  view  of  all  who  diligently  sought  it. 
Still  the  people  of  Palma  adhered  to  their  favorite 
chimera.  Thirty  -  four  years  afterward,  in  1605, 
they  sent  another  ship  on  the  quest,  commanded  by 
Caspar  Perez  de  Acosta,  an  accomplished  pilot,  ac- 
companied by  the  padre  Lorenzo  Pinedo,  a  holy 
Franciscan  friar,  skilled  in  natural  science.  St.  Bo- 
rondon, however,  refused  to  reveal  his  island  to  either 
monk  or  mariner.  After  cruising  about  in  -every  di- 
rection, sounding,  observing  the  skies,  the  clouds,  the 
winds,  everything  that  could  furnish  indications,  they 
returned  without  having  seen  anything  to  authorize  a 
hope. 

Upward  of  a  century  now  elapsed  without  any  new 
attempt  to  seek  this  fairy  island.  Every  now  and  then, 
it  is  true,  the  public  mind  was  agitated  by  fresh  re- 
ports of  its  having  been  seen.  Lemons  and  other 
fruits,  and  the  green  branches  of  trees  which  floated 
to  the  shores  of  Gomera  and  Ferro,  were  pronounced 
to  be  from  the  enchanted  groves  of  St.  Borondon.  At 
length,  in  1721.  the  public  infatuation  again  rose  to 
such  a  height  that  a  fourth  expedition  was  sent,  com- 
manded by  Don  Caspar  Dominguez,  a  man  of  probity 
and  talent.  As  this  was  an  expedition  of  solemn  and 
mysterious  import,  he  had  two  holy  friars  as  apostol- 
ical chaplains.  They  made  sail  from  the  island  of 
Teneriffe  toward  the  end  of  October,  leaving  the  pop- 
ulace in  an  indescribable  state  of  anxious  curiosity 
mingled  with  superstition.  The  ship,  however,  re- 


*  Nunez,  Conquistale  Gran  Canaria.    Viera,  Hist.,  etc. 


272 


APPENDIX. 


turned  from  its  cruise  as  unsuccessful  as  all  its  prede- 
cessors. 

We  have  no  account  of  any  expedition  being  since 
undertaken,  though  the  island  still  continued  to  be  a 
subject  of  speculation,  and  occasionally  to  reveal  its 
shadowy  mountains  to  the  eyes  of  favored  individuals. 
In  a  letter  written  from  the  island  of  Gomera,  1759, 
by  a  Franciscan  monk,  to  one  of  his  friends,  he  relates 
having  seen  it  from  the  village  of  Alaxero  at  six  in  the 
morning  of  the  third  of  May.  It  appeared  to  consist 
of  two  lofty  mountains,  with  a  deep  valley  between  ; 
and  on  contemplating  it  with  a  telescope,  the  valley 
or  ravine  appeared  to  be  filled  with  trees.  He  sum- 
moned the  curate  Antonio  Joseph  Manrique,  and  up- 
ward of  forty  other  persons,  all  of  whom  beheld  it 
plainly.* 

Nor  is  this  island  delineated  merely  in  ancient  maps 
of  the  time  of  Columbus.  It  is  laid  down  as  one  of 
the  Canary  Islands  in  a  French  map  published  in  1704  ; 
and  Mons.  Gautier,  in  a  geographical  chart,  annexed 
to  his  Observations  on  Natural  History,  published  in 
1755,  places  it  five  degrees  to  the  west  of  the  island  of 
Ferro,  in  the  2Qth  deg.  of  N.  latitude.! 

Such  are  the  principal  facts  existing  relative  to  the 
island  of  St.  Brandan.  Its  reality  was  for  a  long  time 
a  matter  of  firm  belief.  It  was  in  vain  that  repeated 
voyages  and  investigations  proved  its  non-existence  ; 
the  public,  after  trying  all  kinds  of  sophistry,  took 
refuge  in  the  supernatural,  to  defend  their  favorite 
chimera.  They  maintained  that  it  was  rendered  in- 
accessible to  mortals  by  Divine  Providence,  or  by 
diabolical  magic  Most  inclined  to  the  former.  All 
kinds  of  extravagant  fancies  were  indulged  concerning 
it,:):  some  confounded  it  with  the  fabled  island  of  the 
Seven  Cities  situated  somewhere  in  the  bosom  of  the 
ocean,  where  in  old  times  seven  bishops  and  their  fol- 
lowers had  taken  refuge  from  the  Moors.  Some  of 
the  Portuguese  imagined  it  to  be  the  abode  of  their 
lost  King  Sebastian.  The  Spaniards  pretended  that 
Roderick,  the  last  of  their  Gothic  kings,  had  fled  thither 
from  the  Moors  after  the  disastrous  battle  of  the  Gua- 
dalete.  Others  suggested  that  it  might  be  the  seat  of 
the  terrestrial  paradise,  the  place  where  Enoch  and 
Elijah  remained  in  a  state  of  blessedness  until  the 
final  day  ;  and  that  it  was  made  at  times  apparent  to 
the  eyes,  but  invisible  to  the  search  of.  mortals. 
Poetry,  it  is  said,  has  owed  to  this  popular 'belief  one 
of  its  beautiful  fictions,  and  the  garden  of  Armida, 
where  Rinaldo  was  detained  enchanted,  and  which 
Tasso  places  in  one  of  the  Canary  Islands,  has  been 
identified  with  the  imaginary  St.  Borondon.§ 

The  learned  father  Feyjoo||  has  given  a  philosoph- 
ical solution  to  this  geographical  problem.  He  attrib- 
utes all  these  appearances,  which  have  been  so  numer- 
ous and  so  well  authenticated  as  not  to  admit  of 
doubt,  to  certain  atmospherical  deceptions,  like  that 
of  the  Fata  Morgana,  seen  at  times  in  the  straits  of 
Messina,  where  the  city  of  Reggio  and  its  surrounding 
country  is  reflected  in  the  air  above  the  neighboring 
sea  :  a  phenomenon  which  has  likewise  been  witnessed 
in  front  of  the  city  of  Marseilles.  As  to  the  tales  of 
the  mariners  who  had  landed  on  these  forbidden 
shores,  and  been  hurried  thence  in  whirlwinds  and 
tempests,  he  considers  them  as  mere  fabrications. 

As  the  populace,  however,  reluctantly  give  up  any- 
thing that  partakes  of  the  marvellous  and  mysterious, 
and  as  the  same  atmospherical  phenomena,  which 
first  gave  birth  to  the  illusion,  may  still  continue,  it  is 
not  improbable  that  a  belief  in  the  island  of  St.  Bran- 
dan  may  still  exist  among  the  ignorant  and  credulous 
of  the  Canaries,  and  that  they  at  times  behold  its  fairy 
mountains  rising  above  the  distant  horizon  of  the 
Atlantic. 


No.  XXVI. 

THE   ISLAND   OF     THE   SEVEN   CITIES. 

ONE  of  the  popular  traditions  concerning  the  ocean, 


*  Viera,  Hist.  Isl.  Can.  torn.  i.  cap.  28.      f  Ibid.      J  Ibid. 
§  Viera,  ubi  sup.        ||  Theatre  Critico,  torn.  iv.  d.  x. 


which  were  current  during  the  time  of  Columbus,  was 
that  of  the  Island  of  the  Seven  Cities.  It  was  recorded 
in  an  ancient  legend,  that  at  the  time  of  the  conquest 
of  Spain  and  Portugal  by  the  Moors,  when  the  inhab- 
itants fled  in  every  direction  to  escape  from  slavery, 
seven  bishops,  followed  by  a  great  number  of  their 
people,  took  shipping  and  abandoned  themselves  to 
their  fate,  on  the  high  seas.  After  tossing  about  for 
some  time  they  landed  on  an  unknown  island  in  the  ' 
midst  of  the  ocean.  Here  the  bishops  burned  the 
ships,  to  prevent  the  desertion  of  their  followers,  and 
founded  seven  cities.  Various  pilots  of  Portugal,  it 
was  said,  had  reached  that  island  at  different  times, 
but  had  never  returned  to  give  any  information  con- 
cerning it,  having  been  detained,  according  to  subse- 
quent accounts,  by  the  successors  of  the  bishops  to 
prevent  pursuit.  At  length,  according  to  common 
report,  at  the  time  that  Prince  Henry  of  Portugal  was 
prosecuting  his  discoveries,  several  seafaring  men 
presented  themselves  one  day  before  him,  and  stated 
that  they  had  just  returned  from  a  voyage,  in  the 
course  of  which  they  had  landed  upon  this  island. 
The  inhabitants,  they  said,  spoke  their  language,  and 
carried  them  immediately  to  church,  to  ascertain 
whether  they  were  Catholics,  and  were  rejoiced  at 
finding  them  of  the  true  faith.  They  then  made  earnest 
inquiries,  to  know  whether  the  Moors  still  retained 
possession  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  While  part  of  the 
crew  were  at  church,  the  rest  gathered  sand  on  the 
shore  for  the  use  of  the  kitchen,  and  found  to  their 
surprise  that  one  third  of  it  was  gold.  The  islanders 
were  anxious  that  the  crew  should  remain  with  them 
a  few  days,  until  the  return  of  their  governor,  who 
was  absent  ;  but  the  mariners,  afraid  of  being  de- 
tained, embarked  and  made  sail.  Such  was  the  story 
they  told  to  Prince  Henry,  hoping  to  receive  reward 
for  their  intelligence.  The  prince  expressed  displeas- 
ure at  their  hasty  departure  from  the  island,  and 
ordered  them  to  return  and  procure  further  informa- 
tion ;  but  the  men,  apprehensive,  no  doubt,  of  having 
the  falsehood  of  their  tale  discovered,  made  their 
escape,  and  nothing  more  was  heard  of  them.* 

This  story  had  much  currency.  The  Island  of  the 
Seven  Cities  was  identified  with  the  island  mentioned 
by  Aristotle  as  having  been  discovered  by  the  Cartha- 
ginians, and  was  put  down  in  the  early  maps,  about 
the  time  of  Columbus,  under  the  name  of  Antilla. 

At  the  time  of  the  discovery  of  New  Spain,  reports 
were  brought  to  Hispaniola  of  the  civilization  of  the 
country  :  that  the  people  wore  clothing  ;  that  their 
houses  and  temples  were  solid,  spacious,  and  often 
magnificent  ;  and  that  crosses  were  occasionally  found 
among  them.  Juan  de  Grivalja,  being  dispatched  to 
explore  the  coast  of  .Yucatan,  reported  that  in  sailing 
along  it  he  beheld,  with  great  wonder,  stately  and 
beautiful  edifices  of  lime  and  stone,  and  many  high 
towers  that  shone  at  a  distance. \  For  a  time  the  old 
tradition  of  the  Seven  Cities  was  revived,  and  many 
thought  that  they  were  to  be  found  in  the  same  part 
of  New  Spain. 


No.  XXVII. 

DISCOVERY   OF   THE   ISLAND   OF  MADEIRA. 

THE  discovery  of  Madeira  by  Macham  rests  princi- 
pally upon  the  authority  of  Francisco  Alcaforado,  an 
esquire  of  Prince  Henry  of  Portugal,  who  composed 
an  account  of  it  for  that  prince.  It  does  not  appear  to 
have  obtained  much  faith  among  Portuguese  histori- 
ans. No  mention  is  made  of  it  in  Barros  ;  he  attrib- 
utes the  first  discovery  of  the  island  to  Juan  Gonzalez 
and  Tristram  Vaz,  who  he  said  descried  it  from  Porto 
Santo,  resembling  a  cloud  on  the  horizon.^ 

The  abbe  Provost,  however,  in  his  general  history 


*  Hist,  del  Almirante,  cap.  10. 

t  Torquemada  Monarquia  Indiana,  lib.  iv.  cap.  4.     Or- 
igen  de  los  Indios  por  Fr.  Gregorio  Garcia,  lib.  iv.  cap.  20. 
I  Barros,  Asia,  decad.  i.  lib.  i.  cap.  3. 


APPENDIX. 


273 


of  voyages,  vol.  6,  seems  inclined  to  give  credit  to  the 
account  of  Alcaforado.  "  It  was  composed,"  he 
observes,  "  at  a  time  when  the  attention  of  the  public 
would  have  exposed  the  least  falsities  ;  and  no  one 
was  more  capable  than  Alcaforado  of  giving  an  exact 
detail  of  this  event,  since  he  was  of  the  number  of 
those  who  assisted  at  the  second  discovery."  The 
narrative,  as  originally  written,  was  overcharged  with 
ornaments  and  digressions.  It  was  translated  into 
French  and  published  in  Paris  in  1671.  The  French 
translator  had  retrenched  the  ornaments,  but  scrupu- 
lously retained  the  facts.  The  story,  however,  is  cher- 
ished in  the  island  of  Madeira,  where  a  painting  in 
illustration  of  it  is  still  to  be  seen.  The  following  is 
the  purport  of  the  French  translation  :  I  have  not  been 
able  to  procure  the  original  of  Alcaforado. 

During  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Third  of  England, 
a  young  man  of  great  courage  and  talent,  named  Rob- 
ert Macham,  fell  in  love  with  a  young  lady  of  rare 
beauty,  of  the  name  of  Anne  Dorset.  She  was  his 
superior  in  birth,  and  of  a  proud  and  aristocratic  fam- 
ily ;  but  the  merit  of  Macham  gained  him  the  prefer- 
ence over  all  his  rivals.  The  family  of  the  young 
lady,  to  prevent  her  making  an  inferior  alliance,  ob- 
tained an  order  from  the  king  to  have  Macham 
arrested  and  confined,  until  by  arbitrary  means  they 
married  his  mistress  to  a  man  of  quality.  As  soon  as 
the  nuptials  were  celebrated,  the  nobleman  conducted 
his  beautiful  and  afflicted  bride  to  his  seat  near  Bris- 
tol. Macham  was  now  restored  to  liberty.  Indignant 
at  the  wrongs  he  had  suffered,  and  certain  of  the 
affections  of  his  mistress,  he  prevailed  upon  several 
friends  to  assist  him  in  a  project  for  the  gratification 
of  his  love  and  his  revenge.  They  followed  hard  on 
the  traces  of  the  new-married  couple  to  Bristol.  One  of 
the  friends  obtained  an  introduction  into  the  family  of 
the  nobleman  in  quality  of  a  groom.  He  found  the 
young  bride  full  of  tender  recollections  of  her  lover, 
and  of  dislike  to  the  husband  thus  forced  upon  her. 
Through  the  means  of  this  friend,  Macham  had  sev- 
eral communications  with  her,  and  concerted  means 
for  their  escape  to  France,  where  they  might  enjoy 
their  mutual  love  unmolested. 

When  all  things  were  prepared,  the  young  lady  rode 
out  one  day,  accompanied  only  by  the  fictitious  groom, 
under  pretence  of  taking  the  air.  No  sooner  were 
they  out  of  sight  of  the  house  than  they  galloped  to  an 
appointed  place  on  the  shore  of  the  channel,  where  a 
boat  awaited  them.  They  were  conveyed  on  board  a 
vessel,  which  lay  with  anchor  a-trip  and  sails  unfurled, 
ready  to  put  to  sea.  Here  the  lovers  were  once  more 
united.  Fearful  of  pursuit,  the  ship  immediately 
weighed  anchor  ;  they  made  their  way  rapidly  along 
the  coast  of  Cornwall,  and  Macham  anticipated  the 
triumph  of  soon  landing  with  his  beautiful  prize  on  the 
shores  of  gay  and  gallant  France.  Unfortunately  an 
adverse  and  stormy  wind  arose  in  the  night  ;  at  day- 
break they  found  themselves  out  of  sight  of  land.  The 
mariners  were  ignorant  and  inexperienced  ;  they  knew 
nothing  of  the  compass,  and  it  was  a  time  when  men 
were  unaccustomed  to  traverse  the  high  seas.  For 
thirteen  days  the  lovers  were  driven  about  on  a  tem- 
pestuous ocean,  at  the  mercy  of  wind  and  wave.  The 
fugitive  bride  was  filled  with  terror  and  remorse,  and 
looked  upon  this  uproar  of  the  elements  as  the  anger 
of  Heaven  directed  against  her.  All  the  efforts  of  her 
lover  could  not  remove  from  her  mind  a  dismal  pre- 
sage of  some  approaching  catastrophe. 

At  length  the  tempest  subsided.  On  the  fourteenth 
day,  at  dawn,  the  mariners  perceived  what  appeared 
to  be  a  tuft  of  wood  rising  out  of  the  sea.  They  joy- 
fully steered  for  it,  supposing  it  to  be  an  island.  They 
were  not  mistaken.  As  they  drew  near,  the  rising 
sun  shone  upon  noble  forests,  the  trees  of  which  were 
of  a  kind  unknown  to  them.  Flights  of  birds  also 
came  hovering  about  the  ship,  and  perched  upon  the 
yards  and  rigging,  without  any  signs  of  fear.  The 
boat  was  sent  on  shore  to  reconnoitre,  and  soon  re- 
turned with  such  accounts  of  the  beauty  of  the  coun- 
try, that  Macham  determined  to  take  his  drooping 
Companion  to  the  land,  in  hopes  her  health  and  spirits 


might  by  restored  by  refreshment  and  repose.  They 
were  accompanied  on  shore  by  the  faithful  friends  who 
had  assisted  in  their  flight.  The  mariners  remained 
on  board  to  guard  the  ship. 

The  country  was  indeed  delightful.  The  forests 
were  stately  and  magnificent  ;  there  were  trees  laden 
with  excellent  fruits,  others  with  aromatic  flowers  ; 
the  waters  were  cool  and  limpid,  the  sky  was  serene, 
and  there  was  a  balmy  sweetness  in  the  air.  The  ani- 
mals they  met  with  showed  no  signs  of  alarm  or 
ferocity,  from  which  they  concluded  that  the  island 
was  uninhabited.  On  penetrating  a  little  distance  they 
found  a  sheltered  meadow,  the  green  bosom  of  which 
was  bordered  by  laurels  and  refreshed  by  a  mountain 
brook  which  ran  sparkling  over  pebbles.  In  the  cen- 
tre was  a  majestic  tree,  the  wide  branches  of  which 
afforded  shade  from  the  rays  of  the  sun.  Here 
Macham  had  bowers  constructed  and  determined  to 
pass  a  few  days,  hoping  that  the  sweetness  of  the 
country  and  the  serene  tranquillity  of  this  delightful 
solitude  would  recruit  the  drooping  health  and  spirits 
of  his  companion.  Three  days,  however,  had  scarcely 
passed  when  a  violent  storm  arose  from  the  north- 
east, and  raged  all  night  over  the  island.  On  the  suc- 
ceeding morning  Macham  repaired  to  the  seaside,  but 
nothing  of  his  ship  was  to  be  seen,  and  he  concluded 
that  it  had  foundered  in  the  tempest. 

Consternation  fell  upon  the  little  band,  thus  left  in 
an  uninhabited  island  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean.  The 
blow  fell  most  severely  on  the  timid  and  repentant 
bride.  She  reproached  herself  with  being  the  cause 
of  all  their  misfortunes,  and,  from  the  first,  had  been 
haunted  by  dismal  forebodings.  She  now  considered 
them  about  to  be  accomplished,  and  her  horror  was  so 
great  as  to  deprive  her  of  speech  ;  she  expired  in 
three  days  without  uttering  a  word. 

Macham  was  struck  with  despair  at  beholding  the 
tragical  end  of  this  tender  and  beautiful  being.  He 
upbraided  himself,  in  the  transports  of  his  grief,  with 
tearing  her  from  her  home,  her  country,  and  her 
friends,  to  perish  upon  a  savage  coast.  All  the  efforts 
of  his  companions  to  console  him  were  in  vain.  He 
died  within  five  days,  broken-hearted  ;  begging,  as  a 
last  request,  that  his  body  might  be  interred  beside 
that  of  his  mistress,  at  the  foot  of  a  rustic  altar  which 
they  had  erected  under  the  great  tree.  They  set  up  a 
large  wooden  cross  on  the  spot,  on  which  was  placed 
an  inscription  written  by  Macham  himself,  relating  in 
a  few  words  his  piteous  adventure,  and  praying  any 
Christians  who  might  arrive  there,  to  build  a  chapel 
in  the  place  dedicated  to  Jesus  the  Saviour. 

After  the  death  of  their  commander,  his  followeis 
consulted  about  means  to  escape  from  the  island. 
The  ship's  boat  remained  on  the  shore.  They  re- 
paired it  and  put  it  in  a  state  to  bear  a  voyage,  and 
then  made  sail,  intending  to  return  to  England.  Igno- 
rant of  their  situation,  and  carried  about  by  the  winds, 
they  were  cast  upon  the  coast  of  Morocco,  where,  their 
boat  being  shattered  upon  the  rocks,  they  were  cap- 
tured by  the  Moors  and  thrown  into  prison.  Here 
they  understood  that  their  ship  had  shared  the  same 
fate,  having  been  driven  from  her  anchorage  in  the 
tempest,  and  carried  to  the  same  inhospitable  coast, 
where  all  her  crew  were  made  prisoners. 

The  prisons  of  Morocco  were  in  those  days  filled 
with  captives  of  all  nations,  taken  by  their  cruisers. 
Here  the  English  prisoners  met  with  an  experienced 
pilot,  a  Spaniard  of  Seville,  named  Juan  de  Morales. 
He  listened  to  their  story  with  great  interest  ;  in- 
quired into  the  situation  and  description  of  the  island 
they  had  discovered  ;  and,  subsequently,  on  his  re- 
demption from  prison,  communicated  the  circum- 
stances, it  is  said,  to  Prince  Henry  of  Portugal. 

There  is  a  difficulty  in  the  above  narrative  of  Alca- 
forado in  reconciling  dates.  The  voyage  is  said  to 
have  taken  place  during  the  reign  of  Edward  III., 
which  commenced  in  1327  and  ended  in  1378. 
Morales,  to  whom  the  English  communicated  their 
voyage,  is  said  to  have  been  in  the  service  of  the 
Portuguese,  in  the  second  discovery  of  Madeira,  in 
1418  and  1420.  Even  if  the  voyage  and  imprisonment 


274 


APPENDIX. 


had  taken  place  in  the  last  year  of   King  Edward's 
reign,  this  leaves  a  space  of  forty  years. 

Hackluyt  gives  an  account  of  the  same  voyage,  taken 
from  Antonio  Galvano.  He  varies  in  certain  partic- 
ulars. It  happened,  he  says,  in  the  year  1344,  in  the 
time  of  Peter  IV.  of  Aragon.  Macham  cast  anchor  in 
a  bay  since  called  after  him  Machio. 

The  lady  being  ill,  he  took  her  on  shore,  accom- 
panied by  some  of  his  friends,  and  the  ships  sailed 
without  them.  After  the  death  of  the  lady,  Macham 
made  a  canoe  out  of  a  tree,  and  ventured  to  sea  in  it 
with  his  companions.  They  were  cast  upon  the  coast 
of  Africa,  where  the  Moors,  considering  it  a  kind  of 
miracle,  carried  him  to  the  king  of  their  country,  who 
sent  him  to  the  King  of  Castile.  In  consequence  of 
the  traditional  accounts  remaining  of  this  voyage, 
Henry  II.  of  Castile  sent  people,  in  1395,  to  redis- 
cover the  island. 


No.  XXVIII. 

LAS   CASAS. 

BARTHOLOMEW  LAS  CASAS,  Bishop  of  Chiapa,  so 
often  cited  in  all  histories  of  the  New  World,  was  born 
at  Seville  in  1474,  and  was  of  French  extraction.  The 
family  name  was  Casaus.  The  first  of  the  name  who 
appeared  in  Spain  served  under  the  standard  of  Fer- 
dinand III.,  surnamed  the  Saint,  in  his  wars  with  the 
Moors  of  Andalusia.  He  was  at  the  taking  of  Seville 
from  the  Moors,  when  he  was  rewarded  by  the  king, 
and  received  permission  to  establish  himself  there. 
His  descendants  enjoyed  the  prerogatives  of  nobility, 
and  suppressed  the  letter  u  in  their  name,  to  accom- 
modate it  to  the  Spanish  tongue. 

Antonio,  the  father  of  Bartholomew,  went  to  His- 
paniola  with  Columbus  in  1493,  and  returned  rich  to 
Seville  in  1498.*  It  has  been  stated  by  one  of  the 
biographers  of  Bartholomew  Las  Casas,  that  he  ac- 
companied Columbus*in  his  third  voyage  in  1498,  and 
returned  with  him  in  isoo.f  This,  however,  is  incor- 
rect. He  was,  during  that  time,  completing  his  edu- 
cation at  Salamanca,  where  he  was  instructed  in 
Latin,  dialectics,  logic,  metaphysics,  ethics,  and 
physics,  after  the  supposed  method  and  system  of 
Aristotle.  While  at  the  university,  he  had,  as  a  serv- 
ant, an  Indian  slave,  given  him  by  his  father,  who 
had  received  him  from  Columbus.  When  Isabella,  in 
her  transport  of  virtuous  indignation,  ordered  the  In- 
dian slaves  to  be  sent  back  to  their  country,  this  one 
was  taken  from  Las  Casas.  The  young  man  was 
aroused  by  the  circumstance,  and,  on  considering  the 
nature  of  the  case,  became  inflamed  with  a  zeal  in 
favor  of  the  unhappy  Indians,  which  never  cooled 
throughout  a  long  and  active  life.  It  was  excited  to 
tenfold  fervor,  when,  at  about  the  age  of  twenty-eight 
years,  he  accompanied  the  commander  Ovando  to  His- 
paniola  in  1502,  and  was  an  eye  witness  to  many  of 
the  cruel  scenes  which  took  place  under  his  adminis- 
tration. The  whole  of  his  future  life,  a  space  exceed- 
ing sixty  years,  was  devoted  to  vindicating  the  cause, 
and  endeavoring  to  meliorate  the  sufferings  of  the 
natives.  As  a  missionary,  he  traversed  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  New  World  in  various  directions,  seeking 
to  convert  and  civilize  them  ;  as  a  protector  and 
champion,  he  made  several  voyages  to  Spain,  vindi- 
cated their  wrongs  before  courts  and  monarchs,  wrote 
volumes  in  their  behalf,  and  exhibited  a  zeal  and  con- 
stancy and  intrepidity  worthy  of  an  apostle.  He  died 
at  the  advanced  age  of  ninety-two  years,  and  was 
buried  at  Madrid,  in  the  church  of  the  Dominican  con- 
vent of  Atocha,  of  which  fraternity  he  was  a  member. 

Attempts  have  been  made  to  decry  the  consistency, 
and  question  the  real  philanthropy  of  Las  Casas,  in 
consequence  of  one  of  the  expedients  to  which  he  re- 
sorted to  relieve  the  Indians  from  the  cruel  bondage 

*  Navarrete,  Colec.  Viag.  torn.  i.  Introd.  p.  Ixx. 
t  T.  A.  Llorente  CEuvres  de  Las  Casas,  p.  xi.  Paris, 
1822. 


imposed  upon  them.  This  occurred  in  1517,  when  he 
arrived  in  Spain,  on  one  of  his  missions,  to  obtain 
measures  in  their  favor  from  the  government.  On 
his  arrival  in  Spain,  he  found  Cardinal  Ximenes,  who 
had  been  left  regent  on  the  death  of  King  Ferdinand, 
too  ill  to  attend  to  his  affairs.  He  repaired,  therefore, 
to  Valladolid,  where  he  awaited  the  coming  of  the 
new  monarch  Charles,  Archduke  of  Austria,  afterward 
the  Emperor  Charles  V.  He  had  strong  opponents 
to  encounter  in  various  persons  high  in  authority, 
who,  holding  estates  and  repartimientos  in  the  colo- 
nies, were  interested  in  the  slavery  of  the  Indians. 
Among  these,  and  not  the  least  animated,  was  the 
Bishop  Fonseca,  President  of  the  Council  of  the 
Indies. 

At  length  the  youthful  sovereign  arrived,  accompa- 
nied by  various  Flemings  of  his  court,  particularly  his 
grand  chancellor,  Doctor  ]uan  de  Selvagio,  a  learned 
and  upright  man,  whom  he  consulted  on  all  affairs  of 
administration  and  justice.  Las  Casas  soon  became 
intimate  with  the  chancellor,  and  stood  high  in  his 
esteem  ;  but  so  much  opposition  arose  on  every  side 
that  he  found  his  various  propositions  for  the  relief  of 
the  natives  but  little  attended  to.  In  his  doubt  and 
anxiety  he  had  now  recourse  to  an  expedient  which  he 
considered  as  justified  by  the  circumstances  of  the 
case.*  The  chancellor  Selvagio  and  other  Flemings 
who  had  accompanied  the  youthful  sovereign,  had 
obtained  from  him,  before  quitting  Flanders,  licenses 
to  import  slaves  from  Africa  to  the  colonies  ;  a  meas- 
ure which  had  recently  in  1516  been  prohibited  by  a 
decree  of  Cardinal  Ximenes  while  acting  as  regent. 
The  chancellor,  who  was  a  humane  man,  reconciled 
it  to  his  conscience  by  a  popular  opinion  that  one 
negro  could  perform,  without  detriment  to  his  health, 
the  labor  of  several  Indians,  and  that  therefore  it  was 
a  great  saving  of  human  suffering.  So  easy  is  it  for 
interest  to  wrap  itself  up  in  plausible  argument  !  He 
might,  moreover,  have  thought  the  welfare  of  the  Afri- 
cans but  little  affected  by  the  change.  They  were 
accustomed  to  slavery  in  their  own  country,  and  they 
were  said  to  thrive  in  the  New  World.  "  The  Afri- 
cans," observes  Herrera,  "  prospered  so  much  in  the 
island  of  Hispaniola,  that  it  was  the  opinion  unless  a 
negro  should  happen  to  be  hanged,  he  would  never 
die  ;  for  as  yet  none  had  been  known  to  perish  from 
infirmity.  Like  oranges,  they  found  their  proper  soil 
in  Hispaniola,  and  it  seemed  ever  more  natural  to 
them  than  their  native  Guinea. "f 

Las  Casas  finding  all  other  means  ineffectual,  en- 
deavored to  turn  these  interested  views  of  the  grand 
chancellor  to  the  benefit  of  the  Indians.  He  proposed 
that  the  Spaniards,  resident  in  the  colonies,  might  be 
permitted  to  procure  negroes  for  the  labor  of  the 
farms  and  the  mines,  and  other  severe  toils,  which 
were  above  the  strength  and  destructive  of  the  lives 
of  the  natives. :£  He  evidently  considered  the  poor 
Africans  as  little  better  than  mere  animals  ;  and  he 
acted  like  others,  on  an  arithmetical  calculation  of 
diminishing  human  misery,  by  substituting  one  strong 
man  for  three  or  four  of  feebler  nature.  He,  more- 
over, esteemed  the  Indians  as  a  nobler  and  more  in- 
tellectual race  of  beings,  and  their  preservation  and 
welfare  of  higher  importance  to  the  general  interests 
of  humanity. 

It  is  this  expedient  of  Las  Casas  which  has  drawn 
down  severe  censure  upon  his  memory.  He  has  been 
charged  with  gross  inconsistency,  and  even  with  hav- 
ing originated  this  inhuman  traffic  in  the  New  World. 
This  last  is  a  grievous  charge  ;  but  historical  facts  and 
dates  remove  the  original  sin  from  his  door,  and  prove 
that  the  practice  existed  in  the  colonies,  and  was 


*  Herrera  clearly  states  this  as  an  expedient  adopted 
when  others  failed.  "  Baitolome  de  las  Casas,  viendo  que 
sus  conceptos  hallaban  en  todas  partes  dificultad,  i  que  las 
opiniones  que  tenia,  por  mucha  familiaridad  que  havia 
segnido  i  gran  credito  con  el  gran  Canciller,  no  podian. 
haber  efecto,  se  volvio  a  otros  expedients,  &c." — Decad.  ii. 
lib.  ii.  cap.  2. 

t  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  lib.  ii.  decad.  Hi.  cap.  4. 

\  Ibid.,  decad.  ii.  lib.  ii.  cap.  20. 


APPENDIX. 


275 


authorized  by  royal  decree,  long  before  he  took  a  part 
in  the  question. 

Las  Casas  did  not  go  to  the  New  World  until  1502. 
By  a  royal  ordinance  passed  in  1501,  negro  slaves 
were  permitted  to  be  taken  there,  provided  they  had 
been  born  among  Christians.*  By  a  letter  written  by 
Ovando,  dated  1503,  it  appears  that  there  were  num- 
bers in  the  island  of  Hispaniola  at  that  time,  and  he 
entreats  that  none  more  might  be  permitted  to  be 
brought. 

In  1506  the  Spanish  government  forbade  the  intro- 
duction of  negro  slaves  from  the  Levant,  or  those 
brought  up  with  the  Moors  ;  and  stipulated  that  none 
should  be  taken  to  the  colonies  but  those  from  Seville, 
who  had  been  instructed  in  the  Christian  faith,  that 
they  might  contribute  to  the  conversion  of  the  Indians. f 
In  1510  King  Ferdinand,  being  informed  of  the 
physical  weakness  of  the  Indians,  ordered  fifty  Afri- 
cans to  be  sent  from  Seville  to  labor  in  the  mines.J 
In  1511  he  ordered  that  a  great  number  should  be 
procured  from  Guinea,  and  transported  to  Hispaniola, 
understanding  that  one  negro  could  perform  the  work 
of  four  Indians. §  In  1512  and  '13  he  signed  further 
orders  relative  u  the  same  subject.  In  1516  Charles 
V.  granted  licenses  to  the  Flemings  to  import  negroes 
to  the  colonies.  It  was  not  until  the  year  1517  that 
Las  Casas  gave  his  sanction  of  the  traffic.  It  already 
existed,  and  he  countenanced  it  solely  with  a  view  to 
having  the  hardy  Africans  substituted  for  the  feeble 
Indians.  It  was  advocated  at  the  same  time,  and  for 
the  same  reasons,  by  the  Jeronimite  friars,  who  were 
missionaries  in  the  colonies.  The  motives  of  Las 
Cdsas  were  purely  benevolent,  though  founded  on 
erroneous  notions  of  justice.  He  thought  to  permit 
evil  that  good  might  spring  out  of  it  ;  to  choose  be- 
tween two  existing  abuses,  and  to  eradicate  the  greater 
by  resorting  to  the  lesser.  His  reasoning,  however 
fallacious  it  may  be,  was  considered  satisfactory  and 
humane  by  some  of  the  most  learned  and  benevolent 
men  of  the  age,  among  whom  was  the  Cardinal  Adrian, 
afterward  elevated  to  the  papal  chair,  and  character- 
ized by  gentleness  and  humanity.  The  traffic  was 
permitted  ;  inquiries  were  made  as  to  the  number  of 
slaves  required,  which  was  limited  to  four  thousand, 
an>t  the  Flemings  obtained  a  monopoly  of  the  trade, 
which  they  afterward  farmed  out  to  the  Genoese. 

Dr.  Robertson,  in  noticing  this  affair,  draws  a  con- 
trast between  the  conduct  of  the  Cardinal  Ximenes 
and  that  of  Las  Casas,  strongly  to  the  disadvantage 
of  the  latter.  "  The  cardinal,"  he  observes,  "  when 
solicited  to  encourage  this  commerce,  peremptorily 
rejected  the  proposition,  because  he  perceived  the  in- 
iquity of  reducing  one  race  of  men  to  slavery,  when 
he  was  consulting  about  the  means  of  restoring  liberty 
to  another  ;  but  Las  Casas,  from  the  inconsistency 
natural  to  men  who  hurry  with  headlong  impetuosity 
toward  a  favorite  point,  was  incapable  of  making  this 
distinction.  In  the  warmth  of  his  zeal  to  save  the 
Americans  from  the  yoke,  he  pronounced  it  to  be  lawful 
and  expedient  to  impose  one  still  heavier  on  the  Afri- 
cans."  || 

This  distribution  of  praise  and  censure  is  not  per- 
fectly correct.  Las  Casas  had  no  idea  that  he  was 
imposing  a  heavier,  nor  so  heavy,  a  yoke  upon  the 
Africans.  The  latter  were  considered  more  capable 
of  labor,  and  less  impatient  of  slavery.  While  the 
Indians  sunk  under  their  tasks,  and  perished  by  thou- 
sands in  Hispaniola,  the  negroes,  on  the  contrary, 
thrived  there.  Herrera,  to  whom  Dr.  Robertson  re- 
fers as  his.authority,  assigns  a  different  motive,  and 
one  of  mere  finance,  for  the  measures  of  Cardinal 
Ximenes.  He  says  that  he  ordered  that  no  one  should 
take  negroes  to  the  Indies,  because,  as  the  natives 
were  decreasing,  and  it  was  known  that  one  negro 
did  more  work  than  four  of  them,  there  would  prob- 
ably be  a  great  demand  for  African  slaves,  and  a  trib- 

*  Herrera,  H;st.  Ind.,  d.  ii.  lib.  iii.  cap.  8. 

t  Ibid.,  d.  i.  lib.  vi.  cap.  20. 

j  Ibid.,  cl.  i.  lib.  viii.  cap.  9. 

$  Ibid.,  d.  i.  lib.  ix.  cap.  5. 

II  Robertson,  Hist.  America,  p.  3. 


ute  might  be  imposed  upon  the  trade,  from  which 
would  result  profit  to  the  royal  treasury.*  This* 
measure  was  presently  after  carried  into  effect,  though 
subsequent  to  the  death  of  the  cardinal,  and  licenses 
were  granted  by  the  sovereign  for  pecuniary  consid- 
erations. Flechier,  in  his  Life  of  Ximenes,  assigns 
another  but  a  mere  political  motive  for  this  prohibition. 
The  cardinal,  he  says,  objected  to  the  importation 
of  negroes  into  the  colonies,  as  he  feared  they  would 
corrupt  the  natives,  and  by  confederacies  with  them 
render  them  formidable  to  government.  De  Marso- 
lier,  another  biographer  of  Ximenes,  gives  equally 
politic  reasons  for  this  prohibition.  He  cites  a  letter 
written  by  the  cardinal  on  the  subject,  in  which  he 
observed  that  he  knew  the  nature  of  the  negroes  ;  they 
were  a  people  capable,  it  was  true,  of  great  fatigue, 
but  extremely  prolific  and  enterprising  ;  and  that  if 
they  had  time  to  multiply  in  America,  they  would 
infallibly  revolt,  and  impose  on  the  Spaniards  the 
same  chains  which  they  had  compelled  them  to  wear.f 

These  facts,  while  they  take  from  the  measure  of 
the  cardinal  that  credit  for  exclusive  philanthropy 
which  has  been  bestowed  upon  it,  manifest  the  clear 
foresight  of  that  able  politician  ;  whose  predictions 
with  respect  to  negro  revolt  have  been  so  strikingly 
fulfilled  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola. 

Cardinal  Ximenes,  in  fact,  though  a  wise  and  up- 
right statesman,  was  not  troubled  with  scruples  of 
conscience  on  these  questions  of  natural  right  ;  nor 
did  he  possess  more  toleration  than  his  contemporaries 
toward  savage  and  infidel  nations.  He  was  grand  in- 
quisitor of  Spain,  and  was  very  efficient  during  the 
latter  years  of  Ferdinand  in  making  slaves  of  the  re- 
fractory Moors  of  Granada.  He  authorized,  by  ex- 
press instructions,  expeditions  to  seize  and  enslave 
the  Indians  of  the  Caribbee  islands,  whom  he  termed 
only  suited  to  labor,  enemies  of  the  Christians,  and 
cannibals.  Nor  will  it  be  considered  a  proof  of  gentle 
or  tolerant  policy,  that  he  introduced  the  tribunal  of 
the  inquisition  into  the  New  World.  These  circum- 
stances are  cited  not  to  cast  reproach  upon  the  char- 
acter of  Cardinal  Ximenes,  but  to  show  how  incor- 
rectly he  has  been  extolled  at  the  expense  of  Las 
Casas.  Both  of  them  must  be  judged  in  connection 
with  the  customs  and  opinions  of  the  age  in  which 
they  lived. 

Las  Casas  was  the  author  of  many  works,  but  few 
of  which  have  been  printed.  The  most  important  is 
a  general  history  of  the  Indies,  from  the  discovery  to 
the  year  1520,  in  three  volumes.  It  exists  only  in 
manuscript,  but  is  the  fountain  from  which  Herrera, 
and  most  of  the  other  historians  of  the  New  World, 
have  drawn  large  supplies.  The  work,  though  pro- 
lix, is  valuable,  as  the  author  was  an  eye-witness  of 
many  of  the  facts,  had  others  from  persons  who  were 
concerned  in  the  transactions  recorded,  and  possessed 
copious  documents.  It  displays  great  erudition, 
though  somewhat  crudely  and  diffusely  introduced. 
His  history  was  commenced  in  1527,  at  fifty-three 
years  of  age,  and  was  finished  in  1559,  when  eighty- 
fu-e.  As  many  things  are  set  down  from  memory, 
there  is  occasional  inaccuracy,  but  the  whole  bears 
the  stamp  of  sincerity  and  truth.  The  author  of  the 
present  work,  having  had  access  to  ihis  valuable  man- 
uscript, has  made  great  use  of  it,  drawing  forth  many 
curious  facts  hitherto  neglected  ;  but  he  has  endeav- 
ored to  consult  it  with  caution  and  discrimination, 
collating  it  with  other  authorities,  and  omitting  what- 
ever appeared  to  be  dictated  by  prejudice  or  over- 
heated zeal. 

Las  Casas  has  been  accused  of  high  coloring  and 
extravagant  declamation  in  those  passages  which  re- 
late to  the  barbarities  practised  on  the  natives  ;  nor 
is  the  charge  entirely  without  foundation.  The  same 

*  Porque  como  iban  faltando  los  Indies  i  se  conocia  que 
un  negro  trabajaba,  mas  que  quatro,  por  lo  qual  habia  gran 
demanda  de  ellos,  parecia  que  se  podia  poner  algun  tribute 
en  la  saca,  de  que  resultaria  provecho  a  la  Rl.  Hacienda 
Herrera,  decad.  ii.  lib.  ii.  cap.  8. 

t  De  Marsolier,  Hist,  du  Ministere  Cardinal  Ximer.es, 
lib.  vi.  Toulouse,  1694. 


APPENDIX. 


zeal  in  the  cause  of  the  Indians  is  expressed  in  his 
writings  that  shone  forth  in  his  actions,  always  pure, 
often  vehement,  and  occasionally  unseasonable.  Still, 
however,  where  he  errs  it  is  on  a  generous  and 
righteous  side.  If  one  tenth  part  of  what  he  says  he 
"witnessed  with  his  own  eyes"  be  true,  and  his 
veracity  is  above  all  doubt,  he  would  have  been  want- 
ing in  the  natural  feelings  of  humanity  had  he  not  ex- 
pressed himself  in  terms  of  indignation  and  ab- 
norrence. 

In  the  course  of  his  work,  when  Las  Casas  mentions 
the  original  papers  lying  before  him,  from  which  he 
drew  many  of  his  facts,  it  makes  one  lament  that  they 
should  be  lost  to  the  world.  Besides  the  journals 
and  letters  of  Columbus,  he  says  he  had  numbers  of 
the  letters  of  the  Adelantado,  Don  Bartholomew,  who 
wrote  better  than  his  brother,  and  whose  writings 
roast  have  been  full  of  energy.  Above  all,  he  had  the 
rnip,  formed  fnotn  study  and  conjecture,  by  which 
Columbus  sailed  .on  his  first  voyage.  What  a  precious 
document  wouldihis  be  for  the  world  J  These  writings 
may  still  exist,  aueglected  and  forgoU.cn  among  the 
rubbish  of  some  -convent  in  Spain.  Liule  hope  can  be 
entertained  of  discovering  them  in  the  present  state 
.of  degeneracy  of  the  cloister.  The  monks  of  Atocha, 
in  a  recent  conversation  with  one  of  the  royal  princes, 
betrayed  an  ignorance  that  this  illustrious  man  was 
buried  in  their  convent,  nor  can  any  of  the  fraternity 
point  out  his  place  of  sepulture  to  the  stranger.* 

The  publication  of  this  work  of  Las  Casas  has  not 
been  permitted  in  Spain,  where  every  book  must  have 
the  sanction  of  a  censor  before  it  is  committed  to  the 
press.  The  horrible  picture  it  exhibits  of  the  cruelties 
inflicted  on  the  Indians  would,  it  was  imagined,  ex- 
.  cite  an  odium  against  their  conquerors.  Las  Casas 
himself  seems  to  have  doubted  the  expediency  of  pub- 
lishing it  ;  for  in  1560  he  made  a  note  with  his  own 
hand,  which  is  preserved  in  the  two  first  volumes  of 
the  original,  mentioning  that  he  left  them  in  confi- 
dence to  the  college  of  the  order  of  Predicators  of  St. 
Gregorio,  in  Valladolid,  begging  of  its  prelates  that 
no  secular  person,  nor  even  the  collegians,  should  be 
permitted  to  read  his  history  for  the  space  of  forty 
years  ;  and  that  after  that  term  it  might  be  printed  if 
consistent  with  the  good  of  the  Indies  and  of  Spain. f 
For  the  foregoing  reason  the  work  has  been 
cautiously  used  by  Spanish  historians,  passing  over  in 
:silence,  or  with  brief  notice,  many  passages  of  dis- 
graceful import.  This  feeling  is  natural,  if  not  com- 
mendable ;  for  the  world  is  not  prompt  to  discriminate 
between  individuals  and  the  nation  of  whom  they 
are  but  a  part.  The  laws  and  regulations  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  newly-discovered  countries,  and  the 
decisions  of  the  Council  of  the  Indies  on  all  contested 
points,  though  tinctured  in  some  degree  with  the  big- 
otry of  the  age,  were  distinguished  for  wisdom,  jus- 
tice, and  humanity,  and  do  honor  to  the  Spanish 
nation.  It  was  only  in  the  abuse  of  them  by  individ- 
uals to  whom  the  execution  of  the  laws  was  intrusted, 
that  these  atrocities  were  committed.  It  should  be 
remembered,  also,  that  the  same  nation  which  gave 
birth  to  the  sanguinary  and  rapacious  adventurers 
who  perpetrated  these  cruelties,  gave  birth  likewise  to 
the  early  missionaries,  like  Las  Casas,  who  followed 
.the  sanguinary  course  of  discovery,  binding  up  the 
wounds  inflicted  by  their  countrymen  ;  men  who  in  a 
truly  evangelical  spirit  braved  all  kinds  of  perils  and 
hardships,  and  even  death  itself,  not  through  a  pros- 
pect of  temporal  gain  or  glory,  but  through  a  desire 
to  meliorate  the  condition  and  save  the  souls  of  bar- 
.barous  and  suffering  nations.  The  dauntless  enter- 
prises and  fearful  peregrinations  of  many  of  these 
virtuous  men,  if  properly  appreciated,  would  be  found 
to  vie  in  romantic  daring  with  the  heroic  achievements 


*  In  this  notice  the  author  has  occasionally  availed  him- 
self of  the  interesting  memoir  of  Mon.  J.  A.'Llorente,  pre- 
fixed to  his  collection  of  the  works  of  Las  Casas,  collating 
it  with  the  history  of  Herrera,  from  which  its  facts  are  prin- 
cipally derived. 

t  Navarrete,  Colec.  de  Viag.,  torn.  i.  p.  Ixxv. 


of  chivalry,  with  motives  of  a  purer  and  far  more  ex- 
alted nature. 


No.  XXIX. 

PETER   MARTYR. 

PETER  MARTIR,  or  Martyr,  of  whose  writings 
much  use  has  been  made  in  this  history,  was  born  at 
Anghierra,  in  the  territory  of  Milan,  in  Italy,  on  the 
second  of  February,  1455.  He  is  commonly  termed 
Peter  Martyr  of  Aiigleria,  from  the  Latin  name  of  his 
native  place.  He  is  one  of  the  earliest  historians  that 
treat  of  Columbus,  a^d  was  his  contemporary  and  in- 
timate acquaintance.  Being  at  Rome  in  1487,  and 
having  acquired  a  distinguished  reputation  for  learn- 
ing, he  was  invited  by  the  Spanish  ambassador,  ih2 
Count  de  Tendilla,  to  accompany  him  to  Spain.  He 
willingly  accepted  the  invitation,  and  was  presented  to 
the  sovereigns  at  Saragossa.  Isabella,  amid  the  cares 
of  the  war  with  Granada,  was  anxious  for  the  intel- 
lectual advancement  of  her  kingdom,  and  wished  to 
employ  Martyr  to  instruct  the  young  nobility  of  the 
royal  household.  With  her  peculiar  delicacy,  how- 
ever, she  first  made  her  confessor,  Hernando'de  Tal- 
avera,  inquire  of  Martyr  in  what  capacity  he  desired 
to  serve  her.  Contrary  to  her  expectation,  Martyr 
replied,  "  In  the  profession  of  arms."  The  queen 
complied,  and  he  followed  her  in  her  campaigns,  as 
one  of  her  household  and  military  suite,  but  without 
distinguishing  himself,  and  perhaps  without  having 
any  particular  employ  in  a  capacity  so  foreign  to  his 
talents.  After  the  surrender  of  Granada,  when  the 
war  was  ended,  the  queen,  through  the  medium  of 
the  grand  caidinal  of  Spain,  prevailed  upon  him  to 
undertake  the  instruction  of  the  young  nobles  of  her 
court. 

Martyr  was  acquainted  with  Columbus  while  mak- 
ing his  application  to  the  sovereigns,  and  was  present 
at  his  triumphant  reception  by  Feidinand  and  Isabella 
in  Barcelona,  on  his  return  from  his  first  voyage.  He 
was  continually  in  the  royal  camp  during  the  war  with 
the  Moors,  of  which  his  letters  contain  many  interest- 
ing particulars.  He  was  sent  ambassador  extraordi- 
nary by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  in  1501,  to  Venice, 
and  thence  to  the  grand  soldan  of  Egypt.  The  soldan, 
in  1490  or  1491,  had  sent  an  embassy  to  the  Spanish 
sovereigns,  threatening  that,  unless  they  desisted 
from  the  war  against  Granada,  he  would  put  all  ihe 
Christians  in  Egypt  and  Syria  to  death,  overturn  all 
their  temples,  and  destroy  the  holy  sepulchre  at  Jeru- 
salem. Ferdinand  and  Isabella  pressed  the  war  with 
tenfold  energy,  and  brought  it  to  a  triumphant  conclu- 
sion in  the  next  campaign,  while  the  soldan  was  still 
carrying  on  a  similar  negotiation  with  the  pope. 
They  afterward  sent  Peter  Martyr  ambassador  to  the 
soldan  to  explain  and  justify  their  measure.  Martyr 
discharged  the  duties  of  his  embassy  with  great  abilitv  ; 
obtained  permission  from  the  soldan  to  repair  the  holy 
places  at  Jerusalem,  and  an  abolition  of  various  ex- 
tortions to  \vhich  Christian  pilgrims  had  been  sub- 
jected. While  on  this  embassy,  he  wrote  his  work  De 
Legatione  Babylonica,  which  includes  a  history  of 
Egypt  in  those  times. 

On  his  return  to  Spain  he  was  rewarded  with  places 
and  pensions,  and  in  1524  was  appointed  a  minister 
of  the  Council  of  the  Indies.  His  principal  work  is 
an  account  of  the  discoveries  of  the  New  World,  in 
eight  decades,  each  containing  ten  chapters.  They 
are  styled  Decades  of  the  New  World,  or  Decades  of 
the  Ocean,  and,  like  all  his  other  works,  were  origi- 
nally written  in  Latin,  though  since  translated  into 
various  languages.  He  had  familiar  access  to  let- 
ters, papers,  journals,  and  narratives  of  the  early  dis- 
coverers, and  was  personally  acquainted  wiih  many 
of  them,  gathering  particulars  from  their  conversation. 
In  writing  his  Decades,  he  took  great  pains  to  obtain 
information  from  Columbus  himself,  arid  from  others, 
his  companions. 

In  one  of  his  epistles  (No.   153,   January,    1494,   to 


APPENDIX. 


277 


Pomponius  Lsetus),  he  mentions  having  just  received 
a  letter  from  Columbus,  by  which  it  appears  he  was  in 
correspondence  with  him.  Las  Casas  says  that  great 
credit  is  to  be  given  to  him  in  regard  to  those  voyages 
of  Columbus,  although  his  Decades  contain  some  in- 
accuracies relative  to  subsequent  events  in  the  Indies. 
Munoz  allows  him  great  credit,  as  an  author  contem- 
porary with  his  subject,  grave,  well  cultivated,  in- 
structed in  the  facts  of  which  he  treats,  and  of  entire 
probity.  He  observes,  however,  that  his  writings 
being  composed  on  the  spur  or  excitement  of  the 
moment,  often  related  circumstances  which  subse- 
quently proved  to  be  erroneous  ;  that  they  were  writ- 
ten without  method  or  care,  often  confusing  dates  and 
events,  so  that  they  must  be  read  with  some  caution. 

Martyr  was  in  the  daily  habit  of  writing  letters  to 
distinguished  persons,  relating  the  passing  occurrences 
of  the  busy  court  and  age  in  which  he  lived.  In 
several  of  these  Columbus  is  mentioned,  and  also  some 
of  the  chief  events  of  his  voyages,  as  promulgated  at 
the  very  moment  of  his  return.  These  letters  not 
being  generally  known  or  circulated,  or  frequently 
cited,  it  may  be  satisfactory  to  the  reader  to  have  a 
few  of  the  main  passages  which  relate  to  Columbus. 
They  have  a  striking  effect  in  carrying  us  back  to  the 
very  time  of  the  discoveries. 

In  one  of  his  epistles,  dated  Barcelona,  May  ist, 
1493,  and  addressed  to  C.  Borrcmeo.  he  says  : 
"  Within  these  few  days  a  certain  Christopher  Colum- 
bus has  arrived  from  the  western  antipodes  ;  a  man 
of  Liguria,  whom  my  sovereigns  reluctantly  intrusted 
with  three  ships,  to  seek  that  region,  for  they  thought 
that  what  he  said  was  fabulous.  He  has  returned  and 
brought  specimens  of  many  precious  things,  but  par- 
ticularly gold,  which  those  countries  naturally  pro- 
duce." * 

In  another  letter,  dated  likewise  from  Barcelona,  in 
September  following,  he  gives  a  more  particular  ac- 
count. It  is  addressed  to  Count  Tendilla,  Governor  of 
Granada,  and  also  to  HernandoTalavera,  Archbishop 
of  that  diocese,  and  the  same  to  whom  the  propositions 
of  Columbus  had  been  referred  by  the  Spanish  sove- 
reigns. "  Arouse  your  attention,  ancient  sages, "  says 
Peter  Martyr  in  his  epistle;  "listen  to  a  new  dis- 
covery. You  remember  Columbus  the  Ligurian,  ap- 
pointed in  the  camp  by  our  sovereigns  to  search  for  a 
new  hemisphere  of  land  at  the  western  antipodes. 
You  ought  to  recollect,  for  you  had  some  agency  in 
the. transaction  ;  nor  would  the  enterprise,  as  I  think, 
have  been  undertaken,  without  your  counsel.  He  has 
returned  in  safety,  and  relates  the  wonders  he  has  dis- 
covered. He  exhibits  gold  as  proofs  of  the  mines  in 
those  regions  ;  Gossampine  cotton,  also,  and  aro- 
matics,  and  pepper  more  pungent  than  that  from  Cau- 
casus. All  these  things,  together  with  scarlet  dye- 
woods,  the  earth  produces  spontaneously.  Pursuing 
the  western  sun  from  Gades  five  thousand  miles,  of 
each  a  thousand  paces,  as  he  relates,  he  fell  in  with 
sundry  islands,  and  took  possession  of  one  of  them, 
of  greater  circuit,  he  asserts,  than  the  whole  of  Spain. 
Here  he  found  a  race  of  men  living  contented,  in  a 
state  of  nature,  subsisting  on  fruits  and  vegetables, 
and  bread  formed  from  roots.  .  .  .  These  people 
have  kines,  some  greater  than  others,  and  they  war 
occasionally  among  themselves,  with  bows  and 
arrows,  or  lances  sharpened  and  hardened  in  the  fire. 
The  desire  of  command  prevails  among  them,  though 
they  are  naked.  They  have  wives  also.  What  they 
worship  except  the  divinity  of  heaven,  is  not  ascer- 
tained." f 

In  another  letter,  dated  likewise  in  September,  1493. 
and  addressed  to  the  cardinal  and  vice-chancellor 
Ascanius  Sforza,  he  says  : 

"  So  great  is  my  desire  to  give  you  satisfaction, 
illustrious  prince,  that  I  consider  it  a  gratifying  occur- 
rence in  the  great  fluctuations  of  events,  when  any- 
thing takes  place  among  us,  in  which  you  may  take  an 
interest.  The  wonders  of  this  terrestrial  globe,  round 


Opus  Epist.  P.  Martyris  Anglerii,  Epist.  131. 
Ibid.,  Epist.  134. 


which  the  sun  makes  a  circuit  in  the  space  of  four  and 
twenty  hours,  have,  until  our  time,  as  you  are  wel. 
aware,  been  known  only  in  regard  to  one  hemisphere 
merely  from  the  Golden  Chersonesus  to  our  Spanish 
Gades.  The  rest  has  been  given  up  as  unknown  b\ 
cosmographers,  and  if  any  mention  of  it  has  beei. 
made,  it  has  been  slight  and  dubious.  But  now,  C 
blessed  enterprise  !  under  the  auspices  of  our  sovc 
reigns,  what  has  hitherto  lain  hidden  since  the  firri 
origin  of  things,  has  at  length  begun  to  be  developed 
The  thing  has  thus  occurred — attend,  illustrious  prince : 
A  certain  Christopher  Columbus,  a  Ligurian,  dis- 
patched to  those  regions  with  three  vessels  by  m\ 
sovereigns,  pursuing  the  western  sun  above  five  thou- 
sand miles  from  Gades,  achieved  his  way  to  the  an- 
tipodes. Three  and  thirty  successive  days  they  navi- 
gated with  nought  but  sky  and  water.  At  length  from 
the  mast-head  of 'the  largest  vessel,  in  which  Colum- 
bus himself  sailed,  those  on  the  look-out  proclaimed 
the  sight  of  land.  He  coasted  along  six  islands,  one 
of  them,  as  all  his  followers  declare,  beguiled  per- 
chance by  the  novelty  of  the  scene,  is  larger  than 
Spain." 

Martyr  proceeds  to  give  the  usual  account  of  the 
productions  of  the  islands,  and  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  natives,  particularly  the  wars  which 
occurred  among  them  ;  "  as  if  meum  and  tuuin  had 
been  introduced  among  them  as  among  us,  and  ex- 
pensive luxuries,  and  the  desire  of  accumulating 
wealth  ;  for  what,  you  will  think,  can  be  the  wants 
of  naked  men?"  "  What  further  may  succeed,"  he 
adds,  "  I  will  hereafter  signify.  Farewell."  * 

In  another  letter,  dated  Valladolid,  February  ist, 
1494,  to  Hernando  de  Talavera,  Archbishop  of 
Granada,  he  observes,  "  The  king  and  queen,  on  the 
return  of  Columbus  to  Barcelona,  from  his  honorable 
enterprise,  appointed  him  admiral  of  the  ocean  sea, 
and  caused  him,  on  account  of  his  illustrious  deeds, 
to  be  seated  in  their  presence,  an  honor  and  a  favor, 
as  you  know,  the  highest  with  our  sovereigns.  They 
have  dispatched  him  again  to  those  regions,  furnished 
with  a  fleet  of  eighteen  ships.  There  is  prospect 
of  great  discoveries  at  the  western  antarctic  an- 
tipodes. .  .  ."  t 

In  a  subsequent  letter  to  Pomponius  Lsetus,  dated 
from  Alcala  de  Henares,  December  gth,  1494,  he 
gives  the  first  news 'of  the  success  of  this  expedi- 
tion. 

"  Spain,"  says  he,  "  is  spreading  her  wings, 
augmenting  her  empire,  and  extending  her  name  and 
glory  to  the  antipodes.  ...  Of  eighteen  vessels 
dispatched  by  my  sovereigns  with  the  Admiral  Colum- 
bus in  his  second  voyage  to  the  western  hemisphere, 
twelve  have  returned  and  have  brought  Gossampine 
cotton,  huge  trees  of  dye-wood,  and  many  other 
articles  held  with  us  as  precious,  the  natural  produc- 
tions of  that  hitherto  hidden  world  ;  and  besides  all 
other  things,  no  small  quantity  of  gold.  O  wonderful, 
Pomponius  !  Upon  the  surface  of  that  earth  are 
found  rude  masses  of  native  gold,  of  a  weight  that  one 
is  afraid  to  mention.  Some  weigh  two  hundred  and 
fifty  ounces,  and  they  hope  to  discover  others  of  a 
much  larger  size,  from  what  the  naked  natives  inti- 
mate, when  they  extol  their  gold  to  our  people.  Nor 
are  the  Lestrigonians  nor  Polyphemi,  who  feed  on 
human  flesh,  any  longer  doubtful.  Attend— but  be- 
ware !  lest  they  rise  in  horror  before  thee  !  When 
he  proceeded  from  the  Fortunate  islands,  now  termed 
the  Canaries,  to  Hispaniola,  the  island  on  which  he 
first  set  foot,  turning  his  prow  a  little  toward  the 
south,  he  arrived  at  innumerable  islands  of  savage 
men,  whom  they  call  cannibals,  or  Caribbees  ;  ard 
these,  though  naked,  are  courageous  warriors.  They 
fight  skilfully  with  bows  and  clubs,  and  have  boats 
hollowed  from  a  single  tree,  yet  very  capacious,  in 
which  they  make  fierce  descents  on  neighboring 
islands,  inhabited  by  milder  people.  They  attack 


*  Opus  Epist.  P.  Martyris  Anglerii,  Epist.  135. 
t  Ibid.,  Epist.  141. 


278 


APPENDIX. 


their  villages,  from  which  they  carry  off  the  men  and 
devour  them,"  etc.* 

Another  letter  to  Pomponius  Laetus,  on  the  sam 
subject,  has  been  cited  at  large  in  the  body  of  this 
worK  It  is  true  these  extracts  give  nothing  that  has 
not  been  stated  more  at  large  in  the  Decades  of  the 
same  author,  but  they  are  curious,  as  the  very  first 
announcements  of  the  discoveries  of  Columbus,  and 
as  showing  the  first  stamp  of  these  extraordinary 
events  upon  the  mind  of  one  of  the  most  learned  and 
liberal  men  of  the  age. 

A  collection  of  the  letters  of  Peter  Martyr  was  pub- 
lished in  1530,  under  the  title  of  Opus  Epistolarum, 
Petri  Martyris  Anglerii  ;  it  is  divided  into  thirty-eight 
books,  each  containing  the  letters  of  one  year.  The 
same  objections  have  been  made  to  his  letters  as  to 
his  Decades,  but  they  bear  the  same  stamp  of  candor, 
probity,  and  great  information.  They  possess  pecu- 
liar value  from  being  written  at  the  moment,  before 
the  facts  they  record  were  distorted  or  discolored  by 
prejudice  or  misrepresentation.  His  works  abound 
in  interesting  particulars  not  to  be  found  in  any  con- 
temporary historian.  They  are  rich  in  thought,  but 
still  richer  in  fact,  and  are  full  of  urbanity,  and  of  the 
liberal  feeling  of  a  scholar  who  has  mingled  with  the 
world.  He  is  a  fountain  from  which  others  draw, 
and  from  which,  with  a  little  precaution,  they  may 
draw  securely.  He  died  in  Valladolid,  in  1526. 


No.  XXX. 


GONZALO  FERNANDEZ  DE  OVIEDO  YVALDES,  com- 
monly known  as  Oviedo,  was  born  in  Madrid  in  1478, 
and  died  in  Valladolid  in  1557,  aged  seventy-nine 
years.  He  was  of  a  noble  Asturian  family,  and  in  his 
boyhood  (in  1490)  was  appointed  one  of  the  pages  to 
Prince  Juan,  heir  apparent  of  Spain,  the  only  son  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  He  was  in  this  situation  at 
the  time  of  the  siege  and  surrender  of  Granada,  was 
consequently  at  court  at  the  time  that  Columbus  made 
his  agreement  with  the  Catholic  sovereigns,  and  was 
in  the  same  capacity  at  Barcelona,  and  witnessed  the 
triumphant  entrance  of  the  discoverer,  attended  by  a 
number  of  the  natives  of  the  newly  found  countries. 

In  1513,  he  was  sent  out  to  the  New  World  by 
Ferdinand,  to  superintend  the  gold  foundries.  For 
many  years  he  served  there  in  various  offices  of  trust 
and  dignity,  both  under  Ferdinand,  and  his  grandson 
and  successor  Charles  V.  In  1535,  he  was  made 
alcayde  of  the  fortress  of  St.  Domingo  in  Hispaniola, 
and  afterward  was  appointed  historiographer  of  the 
Indies.  At  the  time  of  his  death,  he  had  served  the 
crown  upward  of  forty  years,  thirty-four  of  which  were 
passed  in  the  colonies,  and  he  had  crossed  the  ocean 
eight  times,  as  he  mentions  in  various  parts  of  his 
writings.  He  wrote  several  works  ;  the  most  impor- 
tant is  the  chronicle  of  the  Indies  in  fifty  books,  divided 
into  three  parts.  The  first  part,  containing  nineteen 
books,  was  printed  at  Seville  in  1535,  and  reprinted 
in  1547  at  Salamanca,  augmented  by  a  twentieth  book 
containing  shipwrecks.  The  remainder  of  the  work 
exists  in  manuscript.  The  printing  of  it  was  com- 
menced at  Valladolid  in  1557,  but  was  discontinued  in 
consequence  of  his  death.  It  is  one  of  the  unpub- 
lished treasures  of  Spanish  colonial  history. 

He  was  an  indefatigable  writer,  laborious  in  col- 
lecting and  recording  facts,  and  composed  a  multitude 
of  volumes  which  are  scattered  through  the  Spanish 
libraries.  His  writings  are  full  of  events  which  happen- 
ed under  his  own  eye,  or  were  communicated  to  him  by 
eye-witnesses  ;  but  he  was  deficient  in  judgment  and 
discrimination.  He  took  his  iacts  without  caution, 
and  often  from  sources  unworthy  of  credit.  In  his 
account  of  the  first  voyage  of  Columbus,  he  falls  into 
several  egregious  errors,  in  consequence  of  taking  the 


*  Opus  Epist.  P.  Martyris  Anglerii,  Epist.  147. 


verbal  information  'of  a  pilot  named  Hernan  Perez 
Matteo,  who  was  in  the  interest  of  the  Pinzons,  and 
adverse  to  the  admiral.  His  work  is  not  much  to  be 
depended  upon  in  matters  relative  to  Columbus. 
When  he  treats  of  a  more  advanced  period  of  the  New 
World,  from  his  own  actual  observation,  he  is  much 
more  satisfactory,  though  he  is  accused  of  listening 
too  readily  to  popular  fables  and  misrepresentations. 
His  account  of  the  natural  productions  of  the  New 
World,  and  of  the  customs  of  its  inhabitants,  is  full  of 
curious  particulars  ;  and  the  best  narratives  of  some 
of  the  minor  voyages  which  succeeded  those  of  Colum- 
bus, are  to  be  found  in  the  unpublished  part  of  his 
work. 


No.  XXXI. 

CURA   0E   LOS   PALACIOS. 

ANDRES  BERNALDES,  or  Bernal,  generally  known 
by  the  title  of  the  curate  of  Los  Palacios,  from  having 
been  curate  of  the  town  of  Los  Palacios  from  about 
1488  to  1513,  was  born  in  the  town  of  Fuentes,  and  was 
for  some  time  chaplain  to  Diego  Deza,  Archbishop  of 
Seville,  one  of  the  greatest  friends  to  the  application 
of  Columbus.  Bernaldes  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  admiral,  who  was  occasionally  his  guest,  and  in 
1496,  left  many  of  his  manuscripts  and  journals  with 
him,  which  the  curate  made  use  of  in  a  history  of  the 
reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  in  which  he  intro- 
duced an  account  of  the  voyages  of  Columbus.  In 
the  narrative  of  the  admiral's  coasting  along  the  south- 
ern side  of  Cuba,  the  curate  is  more  minute  and  ac- 
curate than  any  other  historian.  His  work  exists  only 
in  manuscript,  but  is  well  known  to  historians,  who 
have  made  frequent  use  of  it.  Nothing  can  be  more 
simple  and  artless  than  the  account  which  the  honest 
curate  gives  of  his  being  first  moved  to  undertake  his 
chronicle.  "  I  who  wrote  these  chapters  of  memoirs," 
he  says,  "  being  for  twelve  years  in  the  habit  of  read- 
ing a  register  of  my  deceased  grandfather,  who  was 
notary  public  of  the  town  of  Fuentes,  where  I  was 
born,  I  found  therein  several  chapters  recording  cer- 
tain events  and  achievements  which  had  taken  place 
in  his  time  ;  and  my  grandmother  his  widow,  who 
was  very  old,  hearing  me  read  them  said  to  me, 
"  And  thou,  my  son,  since  thou  art  not  slothful  in 
writing,  why  dost  thou  not  write,  in  this  manner,  the 
good  things  which  are  happening  at  present  in  thy 
own  day,  that  those  who  come  hereafter  may  know 
them,  and  marvelling  at  what  they  read  may  render 
thanks  to  God.' 

"  From  that  time,"  continues  he,  "  I  proposed  to 
do  so,  and  as  I  considered  the  matter,  I  said  often  to 
myself,  '  if  God  gives  me  life  and  health  I  will  con- 
tinue to  write  until  I  behold  the  kingdom  of  Granada 
gained  by  the  Christians  ;  '  and  I  always  entertained 
a  hope  of  seeing  it  and  did  see  it  :  great  thanks  and 
praises  be  given  to  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  !  And 
because  it  was  impossible  to  write  a  complete  and  con- 
nected account  of  all  things  that  happened  in  Spain, 
during  the  matrimonial  union  of  the  king  Don  Ferdi- 
nand, and  the  queen  Dona  Isabella,  I  wrote  only 
about  certain  of  the  most  striking  and  remarkable 
events,  of  which  I  had  correct  information,  and  of 
those  which  I  saw  or  which  were  public  and  notorious 
to  all  men."  * 

The  work  of  the  worthy  curate,  as  may  be  inferred 
from  the  foregoing  statement,  is  deficient  in  regularity 
of  plan  ;  the  style  is  artless  and  often  inelegant,  but  it 
abounds  in  facts  not  to  be  met  with  elsewhere,  often 
given  in  a  very  graphical  manner,  and  strongly  charac- 
teristic of  the  times.  As  he  was  contemporary  with 
the  events  and  familiar  with  many  of  the  persons  of 
his  history,  and  as  he  was  a  man  of  probity  and  void 
of  all  pretension,  his  manuscript  is  a  document  of 
high  authenticity.  He  was  much  respected  in  the 
limited  sphere  in  which  he  moved,  "  yet  "  says  one  of 


*  Cura  de  los  Palacios,  cap.  7. 


APPENDIX. 


279 


his  admirers,  who  wrote  a  short  preface  to  his  chron- 
icle, "  he  had  no  other  reward  than  that  of  the  curacy 
of  Los  Palacios,  and  the  place  of  chaplain  to  the  arch- 
bishop Don  Diego  Deza. " 

In  the  possession  of  O.  Rich,  Esq.,  of  Madrid,  is  a 
very  curious  manuscript  chronicle  of  the  reign  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella  already  quoted  in  this  work,  made 
up  from  this  history  of  the  curate  of  Los  Palacios,  and 
from  various  other  historians  of  the  times,  by  some 
contemporary  writer.  In  his  account  of  the  voyage 
of  Columbus,  he  differs  in  some  trivial  particulars 
from  the  regular  copy  of  the  manuscript  of  the  curate. 
These  variations  have  been  carefully  examined  by  the 
author  of  this  work,  and  wherever  they  appear  to  be 
for  the  better,  have  been  adopted. 


No.  XXXII. 

"  NAVIGATIONE     DEL   RE   DE    CASTIGLIA   DELLE    ISOLF. 

E    PAESE    NUOVAMENTE    RITROVATE." 
"  NAVIGATIO   CHRISTOPHORI   COLOMBI." 

THE  above  are  the  titles,  in  Italian  and  in  Latin, 
of  the  earliest  narratives  of  the  first  and  second  voy- 
ages of  Columbus  that  appeared  in  print.  It  was 
anonymous  ;  and  there  are  some  curious  particulars 
in  regard  to  it.  It  wasoiiginally  written  in  Italian  by 
Montalbodo  Fracanzo,  or  Fracanzano,  or  by  Franca- 
pano  de  Montabaldo  (for  writers  differ  in  regard  to  the 
name),  and  was  published  in  Vicenza,  in  1507,  in  a 
collection  of  voyages,  entitled  Mondo  Novo,  e  Paese 
Nuovamente  Ritrovate.  The  collection  was  repub- 
lished  at  Milan,  in  1508,  both  in  Italian,  and  in  a  Latin 
translation  made  by  Archangelo  Madrignano.  under 
the  title  of  Itinerarium  Portugallensium  ;  this  title 
being  given,  because  the  work  related  chiefly  to  the 
voyages  of  Luigi  Cadamosto,  a  Venetian  in  the  service 
of  Portugal. 

The  collection  was  afterward  augmented  by  Simon 
Grinams  with  other  travels,  and  printed  in  Latin  at 
Basle,  in  1533,*  by  Hervagio,  entitled  Novus  Orbis 
Regionum,  etc.  The  edition  of  Basle,  1555.  and  the 
Italian  edition  of  Milan,  in  1508,  have  been  consulted 
in  the  course  of  this  work. 

Peter  Martyr  (Decad.  2,  Cap.  7)  alludes  to  this  pub- 
lication, under  the  first  Latin  title  of  the  book,  Itinera- 
rium Portugallensium,  and  accuses  the  author,  whom 
by  mistake  he  terms  Cadamosto,  of  having  stolen  the 
materials  of  his  book  from  the  three  first  chapters  of 
his  first  Decade  of  the  Ocean,  of  which,  he  says,  he 
granted  copies  in  manuscript  to  several  persons,  and 
in  particular  to  certain  Venetian  ambassadors. 
Martyr's  Decades  were  not  published  until  1516,  ex- 
cepting the  first  three,  which  were  published  in  1511, 
at  Seville. 

This  narrative  of  the  voyages  of  Columbus  is  referred 
to  by  Gio.  Batista  Spotorno,  in  his  historical  memoir 
of  Columbus,  as  having  been  written  by  a  companion 
of  Columbus. 

It  is  manifest,  from  a  perusal  of  the  narrative,  that 
though  the  author  may  have  helped  himself  freely  from 
the  manuscript  of  Martyr,  he  must  have  had  other 
sources  of  information.  His  description  of  the  per- 
son of  Columbus  as  a  man  tail  of  stature  and  large  of 
frame,  of  a  ruddy  complexion  and  oblong  visage,  is 
not  copied  from  Martyr,  nor  from  any  other  writer. 
No  historian  had,  indeed,  preceded  him,  except  Sabel- 
licus,  in  1504  ;  and  the  portrait  agrees  with  that  sub- 
sequently given  of  Columbus  in  the  biography  written 
by  his  son. 

It  is  probable  that  this  narrative,  which  appeared 
only  a  year  after  the  death  of  Columbus,  was  a  piece 
of  literary  job-work,  written  for  the  collection  of  voy- 
ages published  at  Vicenza  ;  and  that  the  materials  were 
taken  from  oral  communication,  from  the  account 
given  by  Sabellicus,  and  particularly  from  the  manu- 
script copy  of  Martyr's  first  decade. 

*  Bibliotheca  Pinello. 


No.  XXXIII. 
ANTONIO   DE   HERRERA. 

ANTONIO  HERRERA  DE  TOROESILLAS,  one  of  the 
authors  most  frequently  cited  in  this  work,  was  born 
in  1565,  of  Roderick  Tordesillas,  and  Agnes  de  Her- 
rera,  his  wife.  He  received  an  excellent  education, 
and  entered  into  the  employ  of  Vespasian  Gonzago, 
brother  to  the  Duke  of  Mantua,  who  was  Viceroy  of 
Naples  for  Philip  the  Second  of  Spain.  He  was  for 
some  time  secretary  to  this  statesman,  and  intrusted 
with  all  his  secrets.  He  was  afterward  grand  his- 
toriographer of  the  Indies  to  Philip  II.,  who  added  to 
that  title  a  large  pension.  He  wrote  various  books, 
but  the  most  celebrated  is  a  General  History  of  the 
Indies,  or  American  Colonies,  in  four  volumes,  con- 
taining eight  decades.  When  he  undertook  this  work 
all  the  public  archives  were  thrown  open  to  him,  and 
he  had  access  to  documents  of  all  kinds.  He  has 
been  charged  with  great  precipitation  in  the  produc- 
tion of  his  two  first  volumes,  and  with  negligence  in 
not  making  sufficient  use  of  the  indisputable  sources 
of  information  thus  placed  within  his  reach.  The  fact 
was,  that  he  met  wiih  historical  tracts  lying  in  manu- 
script, which  embraced  a  great  part  of  the  first  dis- 
coveries, and  he  contented  himself  with  stating  events 
as  he  found  them  therein  recorded.  It  is  certain  that 
a  great  part  of  his  work  is  little  more  than  a  transcript 
of  the  manuscript  history  of  the  Indies  by  Las  Casas, 
sometimes  reducing  and  improving  the  language  when 
tumid  ;  omitting  the  impassioned  sallies  of  the  zeal- 
ous father,  when  the  wrongs  of  the  Indians  were  in 
question  ;  and  suppressing  various  circumstances  de- 
grading to  the  character  of  the  Spanish  discoverers. 
The  author  of  the  present  work  has,  therefore,  fre- 
quently put  aside  the  history  of  Herrera,  and  consult- 
ed the  source  of  his  information,  the  manuscript  his- 
tory of  Las  Casas. 

Munoz  observes  that  "  in  general  Herrera  did  little 
more  than  join  together  morsels  and  extracts,  taken 
from  various  parts,  in  the  way  than  a  writer  arranges 
chronologically  the  materials  from  which  he  intends  to 
compose  a  history  ;"  he  adds,  that  "  had  not  Herrera 
been  a  learned  and  judicious  man,  the  precipitation 
with  which  he  put  together  these  materials  would  have 
led  to  innumerable  errors."  The  remark  is  just  ;  yet 
it  is  to  be  considered,  that  to  select  and  arrange  such 
materials  judiciously,  and  treat  them  learnedly,  was 
no  trifling  merit  in  the  historian. 

Herrera  has  been  accused  alro  of  flattering  his 
nation  ;  exalting  the  deeds  of  his  countrymen,  and 
softening  and  concealing  their  excesses.  There  is 
nothing  very  serious  in  this  accusation.  To  illustrate 
the  glory  of  his  nation  is  one  of  the  noblest  offices  of 
the  historian  ;  and  it  is  difficult  to  speak  too  highly  of 
the  extraordinary  enterprises  and  splendid  actions  of 
the  Spaniards  in  those  days.  In  softening  their  ex- 
cesses he  fell  into  an  amiable  and  pardonable  error, 
if  it  were  indeed  an  error  for  a  Spanish  writer  to  en- 
deavor to  sink  them  in  oblivion. 

Vossius  passes  a  high  eulogium  on  Herrera  "No 
one,"  he  says,  "  has  described  with  greater  industry 
and  fidelity  the  magnitude  and  boundaries  of  provinces, 
the  tracts  of  sea,  positions  of  capes  and  islands,  of 
ports  and  harbors,  the  windings  of  rivers  and  dimen- 
sions of  lakes  ;  the  situation  and  peculiarities  of  re- 
gions, with  the  appearance  of  the  heavens,  and  the 
designation  of  places  suitable  for  the  establishment  of 
cities."  He  has  been  called  among  the  Spaniards  the 
prince  of  the  historians  of  America,  and  it  is  added 
that  none  have  risen  since  his  time  capable  of  disput- 
ing with  him  that  title.  Much  of  this  praise  will  ap- 
pear exaggerated  by  such  as  examine  the  manuscript 
histories  from  which  he  transferred  chapters  and  en- 
tire books,  with  very  little  alteration,  to  his  volumes  ; 
and  a  great  part  of  the  eulogiums  passed  on  him  for 
his  work  on  the  Indies,  will  be  found  really  due  to 
Las  Casas,  who  has  too  long  been  eclipsed  by  his 
copyist.  Still  Herrera  has  left  voluminous  proofs  of 
industrious  research,  extensive  information,  and  great 


280 


APPENDIX. 


literary  talent.     His  works  bear  the  mark  of  candor, 
integrity,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  record  the  truth.   _ 

He  died  in  1625,  at  sixty  years  of  age,  after  having 
obtained  from  Philip  IV.  the  promise  of  the  first 
charge  of  secretary  of  state  that  should  become  vacant. 


No.    XXXIV. 

BISHOP   FONSECA. 

THE  singular  malevolence  displayed  by  Bishop  Juan 
Rodriguez  de  Fonseca  toward  Columbus  and  his  fam- 
ily and  which  was  one  of  the  secret  and  principal 
causes  of  their  misfortunes,  has  been  frequently  noticed 
in  the  course  of  this  work.  It  originated,  as  has  been 
shown,  in  some  dispute  between  the  admiral  and 
Fonseca  at  Seville  in  1493,  on  account  of  the  delay  in 
fitting  out  the  armament  for  the  second  voyage,  and 
in  regard  to  the  number  of  domestics  to  form  the 
household  of  the  admiral.  Fonseca  received  a  letter 
from  the  sovereigns,  tacitly  reproving  him,  and  order- 
ing him  to  show  all  possible  attention  to  the  wishes  of 
Columbus,  and  to  see  that  he  was  treated  with  honor 
and  deference.  Fonseca  never  forgot  this  affront, 
and,  what  with  him  was  the  same  thing,  never  forgave 
it.  His  spirit  appears  to  have  been  of  that  unhealthy 
kind  which  has  none  of  the  balm  of  forgiveness  ;  and 
in  which,  a  wound  once  made,  for  ever  rankles.  The 
hostility  thus  produced  continued  with  increasing  viru- 
lence throughout  the  life  of  Columbus,  and  at  his  death 
was  transferred  to  his  son  and  successor.  This  per- 
severing animosity  has  been  illustrated  in  the  course 
of  this  work  by  facts  and  observations,  cited  from 
authors,  some  of  them  contemporary  with  Fonseca, 
but  who  were  apparently  restrained  by  motives  of 
prudence,  from  giving  full  vent  to  the  indignation 
which  they  evidently  felt.  Even  at  the  present  day,  a 
Spanish  historian  would  be  cautious  of  expressing  his 
feelings  freely  on  the  subject,  lest  they  should  preju- 
dice his  work  in  the  eyes  of  the  ecclesiastical  censors 
of  the  press.  In  this  way  Bishop  Fonseca  has  in  a 
great  measure  escaped  the  general  odium  his  conduct 
merited. 

This  prelate  had  the  chief  superintendence  of  Span- 
ish colonial  affairs,  both  under  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
and  the  Emperor  Charles  V.  He  was  an  active  and  in- 
trepid, but  selfish,  overbearing,  and  perfidious  man. 
His  administration  bears  ho  marks  of  enlarged  and 
liberal  policy  ;  but  is  full  of  traits  of  arrogance  and 
meanness.  He  opposed  the  benevolent  attempts  of 
Las  Casas  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  Indians, 
and  to  obtain  the  abolition  of  repartimientos  ;  treat- 
ing him  with  personal  haughtiness  and  asperity.* 
The  reason  assigned  is  that  Fonseca  was  enriching 
himself  by  those  very  abuses,  retaining  large  numbers 
of  the  miserable  Indians  in  slavery,  to  work  on  his 
possessions  in  the  colonies. 

To  show  that  his  character  has  not  been  judged 
with  undue  severity,  it  is  expedient  to  point  out  his  in- 
vidious and  persecuting  conduct  toward  Hernando 
Cortez.  The  bishop,  while  ready  to  foster  rambling 
adventurers'  who  came  forward  under  his  patronage, 
had  never  the  head  or  the  heart  to  appreciate  the 
merits  of  illustrious  commanders  like  Columbus  and 
Coitez. 

At  a  time  when  disputes  arose  between  Cortez  and 
Diego  Velazquez,  governor  of  Cuba,  and  the  latter 
sought  to  arrest  the  conqueror  of  Mexico  in  the  midst 
of  his  brilliant  career,  Fonseca,  with  entire  disregard 
of  the  merits  of  the  case,  took  a  decided  part  in  favor 
of  Velazquez.  Personal  interest  was  at  the  bottom  of 
this  favor  ;  for  a  marriage  was  negotiating  between 
Velazquez  and  a  sister  of  the  bishop. f  Complaints 
and  misrepresentations  had  been  sent  to  Spain  by 
Velazquez  of  the  conduct  of  Cortez,  who  was  repre- 
sented as  a  lawless  and  unprincipled  adventurer,  at- 

*  Herrera,  decad.  ii.  lib.  ii.  cap.  3. 

t  Ibid.,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  3. 


tempting  to  usurp  absolute  authority  in  New  Spain. 
The  true  services  of  Cortez  had  already  excited  admi- 
ration at  court,  but  such  was  the  influence  of  Fonseca, 
that,  as  in  the  case  of  Columbus,  he  succeeded  in 
prejudicing  the  mind  of  the  sovereign  against  one  of 
the  most  meritorious  of  his  subjects.  One  Christoval 
de  Tapia,  a  man  destitute  of  talent  or  character,  but 
whose  greatest  recommendation  was  his  having  been 
in  the  employ  of  the  bishop,*  was  invested  with  pow- 
ers similar  to  those  once  given  to  Bobadilla  to  the 
prejudice  of  Columbus.  He  was  to  inquire  into  the 
conduct  of  Cortez,  and  in  case  he  thought  fit.  to  seize 
him,  sequestrate  his  property,  and  supersede  him  in 
command.  Not  content  with  the  regular  official  let- 
ters furnished  to  Tapia,  the  bishop,  shortly  after  his 
departure,  sent  out  Juan  Bono  de  Quexo  with  blank 
letters  signed  by  his  own  hand,  and  with  otheis  di- 
rected to  various  persons,  charging  them  to  admit 
Tapia  for  governor,  and  assuring  them  that  the  king 
considered  the  conduct  of  Cortez  as  disloyal.  Noth- 
ing but  the  sagacity  and  firmness  of  Cortez  prevented 
this  measure  from  completely  interrupting,  if  not  de- 
feating his  enterprises  ;  and  he  afterward  declared, 
that  he  had  experienced  more  trouble  and  difficulty 
from  the  menaces  and  affronts  of  the  ministers  of  the 
king  than  it  cost  him  to  conquer  Mexico. f 

When  the  dispute  between  Cortez  and  Velazquez 
came  to  be  decided  upon  in  Spain,  in  1522,  the  father 
of  Cortez,  and  those  who  had  come  from  New  Spain 
as  his  procurators,  obtained  permission  from  Cardinal 
Adrian,  at  that  time  governor  of  the  realm,  to  pros- 
ecute a  public  accusation  of  the  bishop.  A  regular 
investigalion  took  place  before  the  Council  of  the  In- 
dies of  their  allegations  against  its  president.  They 
charged  him  with  having  publicly  declared  Cortez  a 
traitor  and  a  rebel  ;  with  having  intercepted  and  sup- 
pressed his  letters  addressed  to  the  king,  keeping  his 
Majesty  in  ignorance  of  their  contents  and  of  the  im- 
portant services  he  had  performed,  while  he  diligently 
forwarded  all  letters  calculated  to  promote  the  interest 
of  Velazquez  ;  with  having  j  revented  the  representa- 
tions of  Cortez  from  being  heard  in  the  Council  of  the 
Indies,  declaring  that  they  should  never  be  heard  there 
while  he  lived  ;  with  having  interdicted  the  forward- 
ing of  arms,  merchandise,  and  reinforcements  to  New 
Spain  :  and  with  having  issued  orders  to  the  office  of 
the  India  House  at  Seville  to  arrest  the  procurators  of 
Cortez  and  all  persons  arriving  from  him,  and  to  seize 
and  detain  all  gold  that  they  should  bring.  These 
and  various  other  charges  of  similar  nature  were  dis- 
passionately investigated.  Enough  were  substan- 
tiated to  convict  Fonseca  of  the  most  partial,  oppres- 
sive and  perfidious  conduct,  and  the  cardinal  conse- 
quently forbade  him  to  interfere  in  the  cause  between 
Cortez  and  Velazquez,  and  revoked  all  the  orders 
which  the  bishop  had  issued,  in  the  matter,  to  the  In- 
dia House  of  Seville.  Indeed  Salazar,  a  Spanish  his- 
torian, says  that  Fonseca  was  totally  divested  of  his 
authority  as  president  of  the  council,  and  of  all  con- 
trol of  the  affairs  of  New  Spain,  and  adds  that  he  was 
so  mortified  at  the  blow,  that  it  brought  or.  a  fit  of 
illness,  which  well  nigh  cost  him  his  life.:}: 

The  suit  between  Cortez  and  Velazquez  was  re- 
ferred to  a  special  tribunal,  composed  of  the  grand 
chancellor  and  other  persons  of  note,  and  was  decided 
in  1522.  The  influence  and  intrigues  of  Fonseca 
being  no  longer  of  avail,  a  triumphant  verdict  was 
given  in  favor  of  Cortez,  which  was  afterward  con- 
firmed by  the  Emperor  Charles  V.,  and  additional 
honors  awarded  him.  This  was  another  blow  to  the 
malignant  Fonseca,  who  retained  his  enmity  against 
Cortez  until  his  last  moment,  rendered  still  more 
rancorous  by  mortification  and  disappointment. 

A  charge  against  Fonseca,  of  a  still  darker  nature 
than  any  of  the  preceding,  may  be  found  lurking  in 
the  pages  of  Herrera,  though  so  obscure  as  to  have 
escaped  the  notice  of  succeeding  historians.  He 


*  Herrera,  decad.  iii.  lib.  i.  cap.  15. 

t  Ibid.,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  3. 

J  Salazar,  Conq.  de  Mexico,  lib.  i.  cap  2. 


APPENDIX. 


281 


points  to  the  bishop  as  the  instigator  of  a  desperate 
and  perfidious  man,  who  conspired  against  the  life  of 
Hernando  Cortez.  This  was  one  Antonio  de  Villafaiia, 
who  fomented  a  conspiracy  to  assassinate  Cortez,  and 
elect  Francisco  Verdujo,  brother-in-law  ol  Velazquez, 
in  his  place.  While  the  conspirators  were  waiting  for 
an  opportunity  to  poniard  Cortez,  one  of  them,  relent- 
ing, apprised  him  of  his  danger.  Villafafia  was 
arrested,  lie  attempted  to  swallow  a  paper  contain- 
ing a  list  of  the  conspirators,  but  being  seized  by  the 
throat,  a  part  of  it  was  forced  from  his  mouth  contain- 
ing fourteen  names  of  persons  of  importance. 
Villafafia  confessed  his  guilt,  but  tortures  could  not 
make  him  inculpate  the  persons  whose  names  were  on 
the  list,  whom  he  declared  were  ignorant  of  the  plot. 
He  was  hanged  by  order  of  Cortez.* 

In  the  investigation  of  the  disputes  between  Cortez 
and  Velazquez,  this  execution  of  Villafafia  was  magni- 
fied into  a  cruel  and  wanton  act  of  power  ;  and  in 
their  eagerness  to  criminate  Cortez  the  witnesses  on 
the  part  of  Alvarez  declared  that  Villafafia  had  been 
instigated  to  what  he  had  done  by  letters  from  Bishop 
Fonseca  !  (Que  se  movio  a  lo  que  hizocon  cartas  del 
obispo  de  Burgos. f)  It  is  not  probable  that  Fonseca 
had  recommended  assassination,  but  it  shows  the  char- 
acter of  his  agents,  and  what  must  have  been  the 
malignant  nature  of  his  instructions,  when  these  men 
thought  that  such  an  act  would  accomplish  his  wishes. 
Fonseca  died  at  Burgos  on  the  4lh  of  November, 
1554,  and  was  interred  at  Coca. 


•  No.  XXXV. 

OF   THE   SITUATION   OF  THE    TERRESTRIAL    1'ARADISE. 

THE  speculations  of  Columbus  on  the  situation  of 
the  terrestrial  paradise,  extravagant  as  they  may  ap- 
pear, were  such  as  have  occupied  many  grave  and 
learned  men.  A  slight  notice  of  their  opinions  on  this 
curious  subject  may  be  acceptable  to  the  general 
reader,  and  may  lake  from  the  apparent  wildness  of 
the  ideas  expressed  by  Columbus. 

The  abode  of  our  first  parents  was  anciently  the  sub- 
ject of  anxious  inquiry  ;  and  indeed  mankind  have 
always  been  prone  to  picture  some  place  of  perfect 
felicity,  where  the  imagination,  disappointed  in  the 
coarse  realities  of  life,  might  revel  in  an  Elysium  of 
its  own  creation.  It  is  an  idea  not  confined  to  our  re- 
ligion, but  is  found  in  the  rude  creeds  of  the  most  sav- 
age nations,  and  it  prevailed  generally  among  the  an- 
cients. The  speculations  concerning  the  situation  of 
the  garden  of  Eden  resemble  those  of  the  Greeks  con- 
cerning the  garden  of  the  Hesperides  ;  that  region  of 
delight,  which  they  forever  placed  at  the  most  remote 
verge  of  the  known  world  ;  which  their  poets  embel- 
lished with  all  the  charms  of  fiction  ;  after  which  they 
were  continually  longing,  and  which  they  could  never 
find.  At  one  time  it  was  in  the  Grand  Oasis  of 
Arabia.  The  exhausted  travellers,  after  traversing 
the  parched  and  sultry  desert,  hailed  this  verdant  spot 
with  rapture  ;  they  refreshed  themselves  under  its 
shady  bowers,  and  beside  its  cooling  streams,  as  the 
crew  of  a  tempest-tossed  vessel  repose  on  the  shores 
of  some  green  island  in  the  deep  ;  and  from  its  being 
thus  isolated  in  the  midst  of  an  ocean  of  sand,  they 
gave  it  the  name  of  the  Island  of  the  Blessed.  As 
geographical  knowledge  increased,  the  situation  of 
the  Hesperian  gardens  was  continually  removed  to 
a  greater  disiance.  It  was  transferred  to  the  borders 
of  the  great  Syrtis,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Mount 
Atlas.  Here,  after  traversing  the  frightful  deserts  of 
Barca,  the  traveller  found  himself  in  a  fair  and  fertile 
country,  watered  by  rivulets  and  gushing  fountains. 
The  oranges  and  citrons  transported  hence  to  Greece, 
where  they  were  as  yet  unknown,  delighted  the  Athe- 
nians by  their  golden  beauty  and  delicious  flavor, 


*  Herrera,  Hist.  Ind.,  decad.  iii.  lib.  i.  cap.  i. 
t  Ibid.,  decad.  iii.  lib.  iv.  cap.  3. 


and  they  thought  that  none  but  the  garden  of  the 
Hesperides  could  produce  such  glorious  fruits.  In 
this  way  the  happy  region  of  the  ancients  was  trans- 
ported from  place  to  place,  still  in  the  remote  and  ob- 
scure extremity  of  the  world,  until  it  was  fabled  to  ex- 
ist in  the  Canaries,  thence  called  the  Fortunate  or  the 
Hesperian  Islands.  Here  it  remained,  because  dis- 
covery advanced  no  farther,  and  because  these  islands 
were  so  distant,  and  so  little  known,  as  to  allow  full 
latitude  to  the  fictions  of  the  poet.* 

In  like  manner  the  situation  of  the  terrestrial  para- 
dise, or  garden  of  Eden,  was  long  a  subject  of  earnest 
inquiry  and  curious  disputation,  and  occupied  the 
laborious  attention  of  the  most  learned  theologians. 
Some  placed  it  in  Palestine  or  the  Holy  Land  ;  others 
in  Mesopotamia,  in  that  rich  and  beautiful  tract  of 
country  embraced  by  the  wandering^  of  the  Tigris 
and  the  Euphrates  ;  others  in  Armenia,  in  a  valley 
surrounded  by  precipitous  and  inaccessible  mountains, 
and  imagined  that  Enoch  and  Elijah  were  transported 
thither,  out  of  the  tight  of  mortals,  to  live  in  a  state 
of  terrestrial  bliss  until  the  second  coming  of  our 
Saviour.  There  were  others  who  gave  it  situations 
widely  remote,  such  as  in  the  Trapoban  of  the  an- 
cients, at  present  known  as  the  island  of  Ceylon  ;  or 
in  the  island  of  Sumatra  ;  or  in  the  Fortunate  or 
Canary  Islands  ;  or  in  one  of  the  islands  of  Sunda  ; 
or  in  some  favored  spot  under  the  equinoctial  line. 

Great  difficulty  was  encountered  by  these  specula- 
tors to  reconcile  the  allotted  place  with  the  description 
given  in  Genesis  of  the  garden  of  Eden  ;  particularly 
of  the  great  fountain  which  watered  it,  and  which 
afterward  divided  itself  into  four  rivers,  the  Pison  or 
Phison,  the  Gihon,  the  Euphrates,  and  the  Hiddekel. 
Those  who  were  in  favor  of  the  Holy  Land  supposed 
that  the  Jordan  was  the  great  river  which  afterward 
divided  itself  into  the  Fhison,  Gihon,  Tigris,  and 
Euphrates,  but  that  the  sands  have  choked  up  the  an- 
cient beds  by  which  these  streams  were  supplied  ;  that 
originally  the  Phison  traversed  Arabia  Deserta  and 
Arabia  Felix,  whence  it  pursued  its  course  to  the  Gulf 
of  Persia  ;  that  the  Gihon  bathed  Northern  or  stony 
Arabia  and  fell  into  the  Arabian  Gulf  or  the  Red  Sea  ; 
that  the  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris  passed  by  Eden  to 
Assyria  and  Chaldea,  whence  they  discharged  them- 
selves into  the  Persian  Gulf. 

By  most  of  the  early  commentators  the  River  Gihon 
is  supposed  to  be  the  Nile.  The  source  of  this  river 
was  unknown,  but  was  evidently  far  distant  from  the 
spots  'whence  the  Tigris  and  the  Euphrates  arose. 
This  difficulty,  however,  was  ingeniously  overcome, 
by  giving  it  a  subterranean  course  of  some  hundreds 
of  leagues  from  the  common  fountain,  until  it  issued 
forth  to  daylight  in  Abyssinia. f  In  like  manner,  sub- 
terranean courses  were  given  to  the  Tigris  and  the 
Euphrates,  passing  under  the  Red  Sea,  until  they 
sprang  forth  in  Armenia,  as  if  just  issuing  from  one 
common  source.  So  also  those  who  placed  the  ter- 
restrial paradise  in  islands,  supposed  that  the  rivers 
which  issued  from  it,  and  formed  those  heretofore 
named,  either  traversed  the  surface  of  the  sea,  as 
fresh  water,  by  its  greater  lightness,  may  float  above 
the  salt  ;  or  that  they  flowed  through  deep  veins  and 
channels  of  the  earth,  as  the  fountain  of  Arethusa  was 
said  to  sink  into  the  ground  in  Greece,  and  rise  in  the 
island  of  Sicily,  while  the  River  Alpheus  pursuing  it, 
but  with  lesb  perseverance,  rose  somewhat  short  of 
it  in  the  sea. 

Some  contended  that  the  deluge  had  destroyed  the 
garden  of  Eden,  and  altered  the  whole  face  of  the 
earth  ;  so  that  the  rivers  had  changed  their  beds,  and 
had  taken  different  directions  from  those  mentioned 
in  Genesis  ;  others,  however,  among  whom  was  St. 
Augustine,  in  his  commentary  upon  the  Book  of  Gen- 
esis, maintained  that  the  lerrestrial  paradise  still  ex- 
isted, with  its  original  beauty  and  delights,  but  that  it 
was  inaccessible  to  mortals,  being  on  the  summit  of  a 
mountain  of  stupendous  height,  reaching  into  the  third. 


*  Gosselin,  Recherches  sur  la  Geog.  des  Anciens,  torn.  i. 
f  Feyjoo,  Theatro  Critico,  lib,  vii.  $  2-. 


282 


APPENDIX. 


region  of  the  air,  and  approaching  the  moon  ;  being 
thus  protected  by  its  elevation  from  the  ravages  of  the 
deluge. 

By  some  this  mountain  was  placed  under  the  equi- 
noctial line  ;  or  under  that  band  of  the  heavens  meta- 
phorically called  by  the  ancients  "  the  table  of  the 
sun,"*  comprising  the  space  between  the  tropics  of 
Cancer  and  Capricorn,  beyond  which  the  sun  never 
passed  in  his  annual  course.  Here  would  reign  a  uni- 
formity of  nights  and  days  and  seasons,  and  the  ele- 
vation of  the  mountain  would  raise  it  above  the  heats 
and  storms  of  the  lower  regions.  Others  transported 
the  garden  beyond  the  equinoctial  line,  and  placed  it  in 
the  southern  hemisphere  ;  supposing  that  the  torrid 
zone  might  be  the  flaming  sword  appointed  to  defend 
its  entrance  against  mortals.  They  had  a  fanciful 
train  of  argument  to  support  their  theory.  They  ob- 
served that  the  terrestrial  paradise  must  be  in  the 
noblest  and  happiest  part  of  the  globe  ;  that  part  must 
be  under  the  noblest  part  of  the  heavens  ;  as  the  merits 
of  a  place  do  not  so  much  depend  upon  the  virtues  of 
the  earth  as  upon  the  happy  influences  of  the  stars  and 
the  favorable  and  benign  aspect  of  the  heavens. 
Now,  according  to  philosophers,  the  world  was  divided 
into  two  hemispheres.  The  southern  they  considered 
the  head,  and  the  northern  the  feet,  or  under  part  ; 
the  right  hand  the  east,  whence  commenced  the  move- 
ment of  the  primum  mobile,  and  the  left  the  west, 
toward  which  it  moved.  This  supposed,  they  observed 
that  as  it  was  manifest  that  the  head  of  all  things,  nat- 
ural and  artificial,  is  always  the  best  and  noblest  part, 
governing  the  other  parts  of  the  body,  so  the  south, 
being  the  head  of  the  earth,  ought  to  be  superior  and 
nobler  than  either  east,  or  west,  or  north  ;  and  in  ac- 
cordance with  this,  they  cited  the  opinion  of  various 
philosophers  among  the  ancients,  and  more  especially 
that  of  Ptolemy,  that  the  stars  of  the  southern  hemi- 
sphere were  larger,  more  resplendent,  more  perfect, 
and  of  course  of  greater  virtue  and  efficacy  than  those 
of  the  northern  :  an  error  universally  prevalent  until 
disproved  by  modern  discovery.  Hence  they  con- 
cluded that  in  this  southern  hemisphere,  in  this  head 
of  the  earth,  under  this  purer  and  brighter  sky,  and 
these  more  potent  and  benig.iant  stars,  was  placed  the 
terrestrial  paradise. 

Various  ideas  were  entertained  as  to  the  magnitude 
of  this  blissful  region.  As  Adam  and  all  his  progeny 
were  to  have  lived  there,  had  he  not  sinned,  and  as 
there  would  have  been  no  such  thing  as  death  to  thin 
the  number  of  mankind,  it  was  inferred  that  the  ter- 
restrial paradise  must  be  of  great  extent  to  contain 
them.  Some  gave  it  a  size  equal  to  Europe  or  Africa  ; 
others  gave  it  the  whole  southern  hemisphere.  St. 
Augustine  supposed  that  as  mankind  multiplied,  num- 
bers would  be  translated  without  death  to  heaven  ; 
the  parents,  perhaps,  when  their  children  had  arrived 
at  mature  age  ;  or  portions  of  the  human  race  at  the 
end  of  certain  periods,  and  when  the  population  of 
the  terrestrial  paradise  had  attained  a  certain  amount. f 

Others  supposed  that  mankind,  remaining  in  a  state 
of  primitive  innocence,  would  not  have  required  so 
much  space  as  at  present.  Having  no  need  of  rearing 
animals  for  subsistence,  no  land  would  have  been  re- 
quired for  pasturage  ;  and  the  earth  not  being  cursed 
with  sterility,  there  would  have  been  no  need  of  ex- 
tensive tracts  of  country  to  permit  of  fallow  land  and 
the  alternation  of  crops  required  in  husbandry.  The 
spontaneous  and  never-failing  fruits  of  the  garden 
would  have  been  abundant  for  the  simple  wants  of 
man.  Still,  that  the  human  race  might  not  be 
crowded,  but  might  have  ample  space  for  recreation 
and  enjoyment,  and  the  charms  of  variety  and  change, 
some  allowed  at  least  a  hundred  leagues  of  circum- 
ference to  the  garden. 

St.  Basilius  in  his  eloquent  discourse  on  paradise^ 

*  Herodot.  lib.  iii.  Virg.  Georg.  i.  Pomp.  Mela,  lib.  iii. 
cap.  10. 

t  Sr.  August,  lib.  ix.  cap.  6.  Sup.  Genesis. 

t  St.  Basilius  was  called  the  great.  His  works  were  read 
and  admired  by  all  the  world,  even  by  Pagans.  They  are 


expatiates  with  rapture  on  the  joys  of  this  sacred 
abode,  elevated  to  the  third  region  of  the  air,  and 
under  the  happiest  skies.  There  a  pure  and  never- 
failing  pleasure  is  furnished  to  every  sense.  The  eye 
delights  in  the  admirable  clearness  of  the  atmosphere, 
in  the  verdure  and  beauty  of  the  trees,  and  the  never- 
withering  bloom  of  the  flowers.  The  ear  is  regaled 
with  the  singing  of  the  birds,  the  smell  with  the 
aromatic  odors  of  the  land.  In  like  manner  the  other 
senses  have  each  their  peculiar  enjoyments.  There 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons  are  unknown,  and  the 
climate  unites  the  fruitfulness  of  summer,  the  joyful 
abundance  of  autumn,  and  the  sweet  freshness  and 
quietude  of  spring.  There  the  earth  is  always  green, 
the  flowers  are  ever  blooming,  the  waters  limpid  and 
delicate,  not  rushing  in  rude  and  turbid  torrents,  but 
swelling  up  in  crystal  fountains,  and  winding  in  peace- 
ful and  silver  streams.  There  no  harsh  and  boister- 
ous winds  are  permitted  to  shake  and  disturb  the  air, 
and  ravage  the  beauty  of  the  groves,  there  prevails  no 
melancholy,  nor  darksome  weather,  no  drowning  rain, 
nor  pelting  hail  ;  no  forked  lightning,  nor  rending 
and  resounding  thunder  ;  no  wintry  pinching  cold, 
nor  withering  and  panting  summer  heat  ;  nor  anything 
else  that  can  give  pain  or  sorrow  or  annoyance,  but 
all  is  bland  and  gentle  and  serene  ;  a  perpetual  youth 
and  joy  reigns  throughout  all  nature,  and  nothing  de- 
cays and  dies. 

The  same  idea  is  given  by  St.  Ambrosius,  in  his 
book  on  Paradise,*  an  author  likewise  consulted  and 
cited  by  Columbus.  He  wrote  in  the  fourth  century, 
and  his  touching  eloquence,  and  graceful  yet  vigorous 
style,  insured  great  popularity  to  his  writings.  Many 
of  these  opinions  are  cited  by  Glanville,  usually  called 
Bartholomeus  Anglicus,  in  his  work  De  Proprietati- 
bus  Rerum  ;  a  work  with  which  Columbus  was  evi- 
dently acquainted.  It  was  a  species  of  encyclopedia 
of  the  general  knowledge  current  at  the  time,  and  was 
likely  to  recommend  itself  to  a  curious  and  inquiring 
voyager.  This  author  cites  an  assertion  as  made  by 
St.  Basilius  and  St.  Ambrosius,  that  the  water  of  the 
fountain  which  proceeds  from  the  Garden  of  Eden  falls 
into  a  great  lake  with  such  a  tremendous  noise  that 
the  inhabitants  of  the  neighborhood  are  born  deaf  ; 
and  that  from  this  lake  proceed  the  four  chief  rivers 
mentioned  in  Genesis.f 

This  passage,  however,  is  not  to  be  found  in  the 
Hexameron  of  either  Basilius  or  Ambrosius,  from 
which  it  is  quoted  ;  neither  is  it  in  the  oration  on  Par- 
adise by  the  former,  nor  in  the  letter  on  the  same 
subject  written  by  Ambrosius  to  Ambrosius  Sabinus. 
It  must  be  a  misquotation  by  Glanville.  Columbus, 
however,  appears  to  have  been  struck  with  it,  and 
Las  Casas  is  of  opinion  that  he  derived  thence  his  idea 
that  the  vast  body  of  fresh  water  which  filled  the  Gulf 
of  La  Ballena  or  Paria,  flowed  from  the  fountain  of 
Paradise,  though  from  a  remote  distance  ;  and  that  in 
this  gulf,  which  he  supposed  in  the  extreme  part  of 
Asia,  originated  the  Nile,  the  Tigris,  the  Euphrates, 
and  the  Ganges,  which  might  be  conducted  under  the 
land  and  sea  by  subterranean  channels,  to  the  places 
where  they  spring  forth  on  the  earth  and  assume  their 
proper  names. 

I  forbear  to  enter  into  various  other  of  the  volumin- 
ous speculations  which  have  been  formed  relative  to 
the  terrestrial  paradise,  and  perhaps  it  may  be  thought 
that  I  have  already  said  too  much  on  so  fanciful  a  sub- 
ject ;  but  to  illustrate  clearly  the  character  of  Colum- 


written  in  an  elevated  and  majestic  style,  with  great  splen- 
dor of  idea,  and  vast  erudition. 

*  St.  Ambrosius.  Opera.  Edit.  Coignard.  Parisiis. 
MDCXC. 

t  Paradisus  autem  in  Oriente,  in  altissimo  nionte,  de 
cujus  cacumine  cadentes  aquae,  maximum  thciunt  lacum, 
que  in  suo  casu  tantum  faciuntstrepitum  et  tragorem,  quod 
omnes  incolge,  juxta  prsedictuni  lacum,  nascunter  surdi,  ex 
immoderate  sonitu  sen  fragore  sensum  audi'us  in  parvulis 
corrumpente.  Ut  dicit  Basilius  in  Hexameron,  simi liter  et 
Ambros.  Ex  illo,  lacu,  velut  ex  uno  fonte,  procedunt  ilia 
flumina  quatuor,  Phison,  qui  et  Ganges,  Gyon,  qui  et  Nilus 
dicitur,  et  Tigris  ac  Euphrates.  Bart.  Angl.  de  Proprie« 
tatibus  rerum,  lib.  15,  cap.  112.  Francofurti,  1540. 


APPENDIX. 


283 


bus,  it  is  necessary  to  elucidate  those  veins  of  thought 
passing  through  his  mind  while  considering  the  singu- 
lar phenomena  of  the  unknown  regions  he  was  explor- 
ing, and  which  are  often  but  slightly  and  vaguely  de- 
veloped in  his  journals  and  letters.  These  specula- 
tions, likewise,  like  those  concerning  fancied  islands 
in  the  ocean,  carry  us  back  to  the  time,  and  made  us 
feel  the  mystery  and  conjectural  charm  which  reigned 
over  the  greatest  part  of  the  world,  and  have  since 
been  completely  dispelled  by  modern  discovery. 
Enough  has  been  cited  to  show  that  in  his  observa- 
tions concerning  the  terrestial  paradise,  Columbus  was 
not  indulging  in  any  fanciful  and  presumptuous 
chimeras,  the  offspring  of  a  heated  and  disordered 
brain.  However  visionary  his  conjectures  may  seem, 
they  were  all  grounded  on  written  opinions  held  little 
less  than  oracular  in  his  day  ;  and  they  will  be  found 
on  examination  to  be  far  exceeded  by  the  speculations 
and  theories  of  sages  held  illustrious  for  their  wisdom 
and  erudition  in  the  school  and  cloister. 


No.   XXXVI. 

WILL  OF   COLUMBUS. 

IN  the  name  of  the  Most  Holy  Trinity,  who  inspired 
me  with  the  idea,  and  afterward  made  it  perfectly  clear 
to  me,  that  I  could  navigate  and  go  to  the  Indies  from 
Spain,  by  traversing  the  ocean  westwardly  ;  which  I 
communicated  to  the  King,  Don  Ferdinand,  and  to 
the  queen,  Doiia  Isabella,  our  sovereigns  :  and  they 
were  pleased  to  furnish  me  the  necessary  equipment 
of  men  and  ships,  and  to  make  me  their  admiral  over 
the  said  ocean,  in  all  parts  lying  to  the  west  of  an 
imaginary  line,  drawn  from  pole  to  pole,  a  hundred 
leagues  west  of  the  Cape  de  Verde  and  Azore  Islands  ; 
also  appointing  me  their  viceroy  and  governor  over 
all  continents  and  islands  that  I  might  discover  beyond 
the  said  line  westwardly  ;  with  the  right  of  being  suc- 
ceeded in  the  said  offices  by  my  eldest  son  and  his 
heirs  for  ever  ;  and  a  grant  of  the  tenth  part  of  all 
things  found  in  the  said  jurisdiction  ;  and  of  all  rents 
and  revenues  arising  from  it  ;  and  the  eighth  of  all  the 
lands  and  everything  else,  together  with  the  salary 
corresponding  to  my  rank  of  admiral,  viceroy,  and 
governor,  and  all  other  emoluments  accruing  thereto, 
as  is  more  fully  expressed  in  the  title  and  agreement 
sanctioned  by  their  highnesses. 

And  it  pleased  the  Lord  Almighty,  that  in  the  year 
one  thousand  four  hundred  and  ninety-two,  I  should 
discover  the  continent  of  the  Indies  and  many  islands, 
among  them  Hispaniola,  which  the  Indians  call  Ayte, 
and  the  Monicongos,  Cipango.  I  then  returned  to 
Castile  to  their  highnesses,  who  approved  of  my  un- 
dertaking a  second  enterprise  for  further  discoveries 
and  settlements  ;  and  the  Lord  gave  me  victory  over 
the  island  of  Hispaniola,  which  extends  six  hundred 
leagues,  and  I  conquered  it  and  made  it  tributary  ; 
and  I  discovered  many  islands  inhabited  by  cannibals, 
and  seven  hundred  to  the  west  of  Hispaniola,  among 
which  is  Jamaica,  which  we  call  Santiago  ;  and  three 
hundred  and  thirty-three  leagues  of  continent  from 
south  to  west,  besides  a  hundred  and  seven  to  the 
north,  which  I  discovered  in  my  first  voyage,  together 
with  many  islands,  as  may  more  clearly  be  seen  by 
my  letters,  memorials,  and  maritime  charts.  And  as 
we  hope  in  God  that  before  long  a  good  and  great 
revenue  will  be  derived  from  the  above  islands  and 
continent,  of  which,  for  the  reasons  aforesaid,  belong 
to  me  the  tenth  and  the  eighth,  with  the  salaries  and 
emoluments  specified  above  ;  and  considering  that 
we  are  mortal,  and  that  it  is  proper  for  every  one  to 
settle  his  affairs,  and  to  leave  declared  to  his  heirs  and 
successors  the  property  he  possesses  or  may  have  a 
right  to  :  Wherefore  I  have  concluded  to  create  an  en- 
tailed estate  (mayorazgo)  out  of  the  said  eighth  of  the 
lands,  places,  and  revenues,  in  the  manner  which  I 
now  proceed  to  state. 

In  the  first  place,  I  am  to   be   succeeded   by  Don 


Diego,  my  son,  who  in  case  of  death  without  children 
is  to  be  succeeded  by  my  other  son  Ferdinand  ;  and 
should  God  dispose  of  him  also  without  leaving  chil- 
dren and  without  my  having  any  other  son,  then  my 
brother  Don  Bartholomew  is  to  succeed  ;  and  after 
him  his  eldest  son  ;  and  it  God  should  dispose  of  him 
without  heirs,  he  shall  be  succeeded  by  his  sons  from 
one  to  another  for  ever  ;  or,  in  the  failure  of  a  son,  to 
be  succeeded  by  Don  Ferdinand,  after  the  same  man- 
ner, from  son  to  son  successively  ;  or  in  their  place 
by  my  brothers  Bartholomew  and  Diego.  And  should 
it  please  the  Lord  that  the  estate,  after  having  con- 
tinued for  some  time  in  the  line  of  any  of  the  above 
successors,  should  stand  in  need  of  an  immediate  and 
lawful  male  heir,  the  succession  shall  then  devolve  to 
the  nearest  relation,  being  a  man  of  legitimate  birth, 
and  bearing  the  name  of  Columbus  derived  from  his 
father  and  his  ancestors.  This  entailed  estate  shall 
in  nowise  be  inherited  by  a  woman,  except  in  case 
that  no  male  is  to  be  found,  either  in  this  or  any  other 
quarter  of  the  world,  of  my  real  lineage,  whose  name, 
as  well  as  that  of  his  ancestors,  shall  have  always  been 
Columbus.  In  such  an  event  (which  may  God  fore- 
fend),  then  the  female  of  legitimate  birth,  most  nearly 
related  to  the  preceding  possessor  of  the  estate,  shall 
succeed  to  it  ;  and  this  is  to  be  under  the  conditions 
herein  stipulated  at  foot,  which  must  be  understood  to 
extend  as  well  to  Don  Diego,  my  son,  as  to  the  afore- 
said and  their  heirs,  every  one  of  them,  to  be  fulfilled 
by  them  ;  and  failing  to  do  so  they  are  to  be  deprived 
of  the  succession,  for  not  having  complied  with  what 
shall  herein  be  expressed  ;  and  the  estate  to  pass  to 
the  person  most  nearly  related  to  the  one  who  held 
the  right  :  and  the  person  thus  succeeding  shall  in  like 
manner  forfeit  the  estate,  should  he  also  fail  to  com- 
ply with  said  conditions  ;  and  another  person,  the 
nearest  of  my  lineage,  shall  succeed,  provided  he 
abide  by  them,  so  that  they  may  be  observed  for  ever 
in  the  form  prescribed.  This  forfeiture  is  not  to  be 
incurred  for  trifling  matters,  originating  in  lawsuits, 
but  in  important  cases,  when  the  glory  of  God,  or  my 
own,  or  that  of  my  family,  may  be  concerned,  which 
supposes  a  perfect  fulfilment  of  all  the  things  hereby 
ordained  ;  all  which  I  recommend  to  the  courts  of 
justice.  And  I  supplicate  his  Holiness,  who  now  is, 
and  those  that  may  succeed  in  the  Holy  Church,  that 
if  it  should  happen  that  this  my  will  and  testament 
has  need  of  his  holy  order  and  command  for  its  fulfil- 
ment, that  such  order  be  issued  is  virtue  of  obedience, 
and  under  penalty  of  excommunication,  and  that  it 
shall  not  be  in  any  wise  disfigured.  And  I  also  pray 
the  king  and  queen,  our  sovereigns,  and  their  eldest- 
born,  Prince  Don  Juan,  our  lord,  and  their  successors, 
for  the  sake  of  the  services  I  have  done  them,  and 
because  it  is  just,  that  it  may  please  them  not  to  per- 
mit this  my  will  and  constitution  of  my  entailed  estate 
to  be  any  way  altered,  but  to  leave  it  in  the  form 
and  manner  which  I  have  ordained,  for  ever,  for  the 
greater  glory  of  the  Almighty,  and  that  it  may  be  the 
root  and  basis  of  my  lineage,  and  a  memento  of  the 
services  I  have  rendered  their  highnesses  ;  that,  being 
born  in  Genoa,  I  came  over  to  serve  them  in  Castile, 
and  discovered  to  the  west  of  Terra  Firma  the  Indies 
and  islands  before  mentioned.  I  accordingly  pray 
their  highnesses  to  order  that  this  my  privilege  and 
testament  be  held  valid,  and  be  executed  summarily 
and  without  any  opposition  or  demur,  according  to 
the  letter.  I  also  pray  the  grandees  of  the  realm  and 
the  lords  of  the  council,  and  all  others  having  admin- 
istration of  justice,  to  be  pleased  not  to  suffer  this  my 
will  and  testament  to  be  of  no  avail,  but  to  cause  it  to 
be  fulfilled  as  by  me  ordained  ;  it  being  just  that  a 
noble,  who  has  served  the  king  and  queen,  and  the 
kingdom,  should  be  respected  in  the  disposition  of  his 
estate  by  will,  testament,  institution  of  entail  or  in- 
heritance, and  that  the  same  be  not  infringed  either 
in  whole  or  in  part. 

In  the  first  place,  my  son  Don  Diego,  and  all  my 
successors  and  descendants,  as  well  as  my  brothers 
Bartholomew  and  Diego,  shall  bear  my  arms,  such  as 
I  shall  leave  them  after  my  days,  without  inserting 


284 


APPENDIX. 


anything  else  in  them  ;  and  they  shall  be  their  seal  to 
seal  withal.  Don  Diego  my  son,  or  any  other  who 
may  inherit  this  estate,  on  coming  into  possession  of 
the  inheritance,  shall  sign  with  the  signature  which  I 
now  make  use  of,  which  is  an  X  with  an  S  over  it, 
and  an  M  with  a  Roman  A  over  it,  and  over  that  an 
S.  and  then  a  Greek  Y,  with  an  S  over  it,  with  its 
lines  and  points  as  is  my  custom,  as  may  be  seen  by 
my  signatures,  of  which  there  are  many,  and  it  will 
be  seen  by  the  present  one. 

He  shall  only  write  "  the  Admiral,"  whatever  other 
titles  the  king  may  have  conferred  on  him.  This  is 
to  be  understood  as  respects  his  signature,  but  not 
the  enumeration  of  his  titles,  which  he  can  make  at 
full  length  if  agreeable,  only  the  signature  is  to  be 
"  the  Admiral/' 

The  said  Don  Diego,  or  any  other  inheritor  of  this 
estate,  shall  possess  my  offices  of  admiral  of  the 
ocean,  which  is  to  Ihe  west  of  an  imaginary  line,  which 
his  highness  ordered  to  be  drawn,  running  from  pole 
to  pole  a  hundred  leagues  beyond  the  Azores,  and  as 
many  more  beyond  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands,  over  all 
which  I  was  made,  by  their  order,  their  admiral  of 
the  sea,  with  all  the  pre-eminences  held  by  Don  Hen- 
rique in  the  admiralty  of  Castile,  and  they  made  me 
their  governor  and  viceroy  perpetually  and  for  ever, 
over  all  the  islands  and  main-land  discovered,  or  to  be 
discovered,  for  myself  and  heirs,  as  is  more  fully 
shown  by  my  treaty  and  privilege  as  above  mentioned. 

Item  :  The  said  Don  Diego,  or  any  other  inheritor 
of  this  estate,  shall  distribute  the  revenue  -which  it  may 
please  our  Lord  to  grant  him,  in  the  following  man- 
ner, under  the  above  penalty. 

First — Of  the  whole  income  of  this  estate,  now 
and  at  all  times,  and  of  whatever  may  be  had  or  col- 
lected from  it,  he  shall  give  the  fourth  part  annually 
to  my  brother  Don  Bartholomew  Columbus,  Adelan- 
tado  of  the  Indies  ;  and  this  is  to  continue  till  he  shall 
have  acquired  an  income  of  a  million  of  maravadises, 
for  his  support,  and  for  the  services  he  has  rendered 
and  will  continue  to  render  to  this  entailed  estate  ; 
which  million  he  is  to  receive,  as  stated,  every  year, 
if  the  said  fourth  amount  to  so  much,  and  that  he 
have  nothing  else  ;  but  if  he  possess  a  part  or  the 
whole  of  that  amount  in  rents,  that  thenceforth  he 
shall  not  enjoy  the  said  million,  nor  any  part  of  it,  ex- 
cept that  he  shall  have  in  the  said  fourth  part  unto 
the  said  quantity,  of  a  million,  if  it  should  amount  to 
so  much  :  and  as  much  as  he  shall  have  of  revenue 
beside  this  fourth  part,  whatever  sum  of  maravadises 
of  known  rent  from  property  or  perpetual  offices,  the 
said  quantity  of  rent  or  revenue  from  property  or 
offices  shall  be  discounted  ;  and  from  the  said  million 
shall  be  reserved  whatever  marriage  portion  he  may 
receive  with  any  female  he  may  espouse  ;  so  that 
whatever  he  may  receive  in  marriage  with  his  wife,  no 
deduction  shall  be  made  on  that  account  from  said 
million,  but  only  for  whatever  he  may  acquire,  or 
may  have,  over  and  above  his  wife's  dowry,  and  when 
it  shall  please  God  that  he  or  his  heirs  and  descend- 
ants shall  derive  from  their  property  arid  offices  a  rev- 
enue of  a  million  arising  Irom  rents,  neither  he  nor 
his  heirs  shall  enjoy  any  longer  anything  from  the 
said  fourth  part  of  the  entailed  estate,  which  shall  re- 
main with  Don  Diego,  or  whoever  may  inherit  it. 

Item  :  From  the  revenues  of  the  said  estate,  or 
from  any  other  fourth  part  of  it  (should  its  amount  be 
adequate  to  it),  shall  be  paid  every  year  to  my  son 
Ferdinand  two  millions,  till  such  time  as  his  re'venue 
shall  amount  to  two  millions,  in  the  same  form  and 
manner  as  in  the  case  of  Bartholomew,  who,  as  well 
as  his  heirs,  are  to  have  the  million  or  the  part  that 
may  be  wanting. 

Item  :  The  said  Don  Diego  or  Don  Bartholomew 
shall  make,  oat  of  the  said  estate,  for  my  brother 
Diego,  such  provision  as  may  enable  him  to  live  de- 
cently, as  he  is  my  brother,  to  whom  I  assign  no  par- 
ticular sum,  as  he  has  attached  himself  to  the  church, 
and  that  will  be  given  him  which  is  right :  and  this  to 
be  given  him  in  a  mass,  and  before  anything  shall 
have  been  received  by  Ferdinand  my  son,  or  Barthol- 


omew my  brother,  or  their  heirs,  and  also  according 
to  the  amount  of  the  income  of  the  estate.  And  in 
case  of  discord,  the  case  is  to  be  referred  to  two  of  our 
relations,  or  other  men  of  honor  ;  and  should  they  dis- 
agree among  themselves,  they  will  choose  a  third  per- 
son as  arbitrator,  being  virtuous  and  not  distrusted  by 
either  party. 

Item  :  All  this  revenue  which  I  bequeath  to  Bar- 
tholomew, to  Ferdinand,  and  to  Diego,  shall  be  de- 
livered to  and  received  by  them  as  prescribed  under 
the  obligation  of  being  faithful  and  loyal  to  Diego  my 
son,  or  his  heirs,  they  as  well  as  their  children  :  and 
should  it  appear  that  they,  or  any  of  them,  had  pro- 
ceeded against  him  in  anything  touching  his  honor,  or 
the  prosperity  of  the  family,  or  of  the  estate,  either  in 
word  or  deed,  whereby  might  come  a  scandal  and  de- 
basement to  my  family,  and  a  detriment  to  my  estate  ; 
in  that  case,  nothing  further  shall  be  given  to  them 
or  him,  from  that  time  forward,  inasmuch  as  they  are 
always  to  be  faithful  to  Diego  and  to  his  successors. 

Item  :  As  it  was  my  intention,  when  1  first  instituted 
this  entailed  estate,  to  dispose,  or  that  my  son  Diego 
should  dispose  for  me,  of  the  tenth  part  of  the  in- 
come in  favor  of  necessitous  persons,  as  a  tithe,  and 
in  commemoration  of  the  Almighty  and  Eternal  God  ; 
and  persisting  still  in  this  opinion,  and  hoping  that  his 
High  Majesty  will  assist  me,  and  those  who  may  inherit 
it,  in  this  or  the  New  World,  I  have  resolved  that  the 
said  tithe  shall  be  paid  in  the  manner  following  : 

First — It  is  to  be  understood  that  the  fourth  part  of 
the  revenue  of  the  estate  which  I  have  ordained  and 
directed  to  be  given  to  Don  Bartholomew,  till  he  have 
an  income  of  one  million,  includes  the  tenth  of  the 
whole  revenue  of  the  estate  ;  and  that  as  in  proportion 
as  the  income  of  my  brother  Don  Bartholomew  shall 
increase,  as  it  has  to  be  discounted  from  the  revenue 
of  the  fourth  part  of  the  entailed  estate,  that  the  said 
revenue  shall  be  calculated,  to  know  how  much  the 
tenth  part  amounts  to  ;  and  the  part  which  exceeds 
what  is  necessary  to  make  up  the  million  for  Don 
Bartholomew  shall  be  received  by  such  of  my  family 
as  may  most  stand  in  need  of  it,  discounting  it  from 
said  tenth,  if  their  income  do  not  amount  to  fifty  thou- 
sand maravadises  ;  and  should  any  of  these  come  to 
have  an  income  to  this  amount,  such  a  part  shall  be 
awarded  them  as  two  persons,  chosen  for  the  purpose, 
may  determine  along  with  Don  Diego,  or  his  heirs. 
Thus,  it  is  to  be  understood  that  the  million  which  I 
leave  to  Don  Bartholomew  comprehends  the  tenth  of 
the  whole  revenue  of  the  estate  ;  which  revenue  is  to 
be  distributed  among  my  nearest  and  most  needy  re- 
lations in  the  manner  I  have  directed  ;  and  when 
Don  Bartholomew  have  an  income  of  one  million,  and 
that  nothing  more  shall  be  due  to  him  on  account  of 
said  fourth  part,  then,  Don  Diego  my  son,  or  the  per- 
son who  may  be  in  possession  of  the  estate,  along 
with  the  two  other  persons  which  1  shall  herein  point 
out,  shall  inspect  the  accounts,  and  so  direct  that  the 
tenth  of  the  revenue  shall  still  continue  to  be  paid  to 
the  most  necessitous  members  of  my  family  that  may 
be  found  in  this  or  any  other  quarter  of  the  world, 
who  shall  be  diligently  sought  out  ;  and  they  are  to 
be  paid  out  of  the  fourth  part  from  which  Don  Bar- 
tholomew is  to  derive  his  million  ;  which  sums  are  to 
be  taken  into  account,  and  deducted  from  the  said 
tenth,  which,  should  it  amount  to  more,  the  overplus, 
as  it  arises  from  the  fourth  part,  shall  be  given  to  the 
most  necessitous  persons  as  aforesaid  ;  and  should  it 
not  be  sufficient  that  Don  Bartholomew  shall  have  it 
until  his  own  estate  goes  on  increasing,  leaving  the 
said  million  in  part  or  in  the  whole. 

Item  :  The  said  Don  Diego  my  son,  or  whoever 
may  be  the  inheritor,  shall  appoint  two  persons  of 
conscience  and  authority,  and  most  nearly  related  to 
the  family,  who  are  to  examine  the  revenue  and  its 
amount  carefully,  and  to  cause  the  said  tenth  to  be 
paid  out  of  the  fourth  from  which  Don  Bartholomew 
is  to  receive  his  million,  to  the  most  necessitated  mem- 
bers of  my  family  that  may  be  found  here  or  else- 
where, whom  they  shall  look  for  diligently  upon  their 
consciences  ;  and  as  it  might  happen  that  said  Don 


APPENDIX. 


283 


Diego,  or  others  after  him,  for  reasons  which  may  con- 
cern their  own  welfare,  or  the  credit  and  support  of 
the  estate,  may  be  unwilling  to  make  known  the  full 
amount  of  the  income  ;  nevertheless  I  charge  him 
on  his  conscience  to  pay  the  sum  aforesaid  ;  and  I 
charge  them,  on  their  souls  and  consciences,  not  to 
denounce  or  make  it  known,  except  with  the  consent 
of  Don  Diego,  or  the  person  that  may  succeed  him  ; 
but  let  the  above  tithe  be  paid  in  the  manner  I  have 
directed. 

Item  :  In  order  to  avoid  all  disputes  in  the  choice  of 
the  two  nearest  relations  who  are  to  act  with  Don 
Diego  or  his  heirs,  I  hereby  elect  Don  Baitholomew 
my  brother  for  one,  and  Don  Fernando  my  son  for 
the  other  ;  and  when  these  two  shall  enter  upon  the 
business,  they  shall  choose  two  other  persons  among 
the  most  trusty,  and  most  nearly  related,  and  these 
again  shall  elect  two  others  when  it  shall  be  question 
of  commencing  the  examination  ;  and  thus  it  shall  be 
managed  with  diligence  from  one  to  the  other,  as  well 
in  this  as  in  the  other  of  government,  for  the  service 
and  glory  of  God,  and  the  benefit  of  the  said  entailed 
estate. 

Item  :  I  also  enjoin  Diego,  or  any  one  that  may  in- 
herit the  estate,  to  have  and  maintain  in  the  city  of 
Genoa,  one  person  of  our  lineage  to  reside  there  with 
his  wife,  and  appoint  him  a  sufficient  revenue  to  en- 
able him  to  live  decently,  as  a  person  closely  con- 
nected with  the  family,  of  which  he  is  to  be  the  root 
and  basis  in  that  city  ;  from  which  great  good  may 
accrue  to  him,  inasmuch  as  I  was  born  there,  and 
came  from  thence. 

Item  :  The  said  Don  Diego,  or  whoever  shall  in- 
herit the  estate,  must  remit  in  bills,  or  in  any  other 
way,  all  such  sums  as  he  may  be  able  to  save  out  of 
the  revenue  of  the  estate,  and  direct  purchases  to  be 
made  in  his  name,  or  that  of  his  heirs,  in  a  stock  in 
the  Bank  of  St.  George,  which  gives  an  interest  of  six 
per  cent  and  in  secure  money  ;  and  this  shall  be 
devoted  to  the  purpose  I  am  about  to  explain. 

Item  :  As  it  becomes  every  man  of  property  to  serve 
God,  either  personally  or  by  means  of  his  wealth,  and 
as  all  moneys  deposited  with  St.  George  are  quite  safe, 
and  Genoa  is  a  noble  city,  and  powerful  by  sea,  and 
as  at  the  time  that  I  undertook  to  set  out  upon  the 
discovery  of  the  Indies,  it  was  with  the  intention  of 
supplicating  the  king  and  queen,  our  lords,  that  what- 
ever moneys  should  be  derived  from  the  said  Indies, 
should  be  invested  in  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem  ;  and 
as  I  did  so  supplicate  them  ;  if  they  do  this,  it  will  be 
well  ;  if  not,  at  all  events,  the  said  Diego,  or  such 
person  as  may  succeed  him  in  this  trust,  to  collect 
together  all  the  money  he  can,  and  accompany  the 
king  our  lord,  should  he  go  to  the  conquest  of  Jerusa- 
lem, or  else  go  there  himself  with  all  the  force  he  can 
command  ;  and  in  pursuing  this  intention,  it  will 
please  the  Lord  to  assist  toward  the  accomplishment 
of  the  plan  ;  and  should  he  not  be  able  to  effect  the 
conquest  of  the  whole,  no  doubt  he  will  achieve  it  in 
part.  Let  him  therefore  collect  and  make  a  fund  of 
all  his  wealth  in  St.  George  of  Genoa,  and  let  it  mul- 
tiply there  till  such  time  as  it  may  appear  to  him  that 
something  of  consequence  may  be  effected  as  respects 
the  project  on  Jerusalem  ;  for  I  believe  that  when 
their  highnesses  shall  see  that  this  is  contemplated, 
they  will  wish  to  realize  it  themselves,  or  will  afford 
him,  as  their  servant  and  vassal,  the  means  of  doing 
it  for  them. 

Item  :  I  charge  my  son  Diego  and  my  descendants, 
especially  whoever  may  inherit  this  estate,  which  con- 
sists, as  aforesaid,  of  the  tenth  of  whatsoever  may  be 
had  or  found  in  the  Indies,  and  the  eighth  part  of  the 
lands  and  rents,  all  which,  together  with  my  rights 
and  emoluments  as  admiral,  viceroy,  and  governor, 
amount  to  more  than  twenty-five  per  cent  ;  I  say 
that  I  require  of  him  to  employ  all  this  revenue, 
as  well  as  his  person  and  all  the  means  in  his 
power,  in  well  and  faithfully  serving  and  support- 
ing their  highnesses,  or  their  successors,  even  to 
the  loss  of  life  and  property  ;  since  it  was  their 
highnesses,  next  to  God,  who  first  gave  me  the  means 


of  getting  and  achieving  this  property,  although,  it  is 
true,  I  came  over  to  these  realms  to  invite  them  to  the 
enterprise,  and  that  a  long  time  elapsed  before  any 
provision  was  made  for  carrying  it  into  execution  ; 
which,  however,  is  not  surprising,  as  this  was  an  un- 
dertaking of  which  all  the  world  was  ignorant,  and 
no  one  had  any  faith  in  it  :  wherefore  I  am  by  so 
much  the  more  indebted  to  them,  as  well  as  because 
they  have  since  also  much  favored  and  promoted  me. 

Item  :  1  also  require  of  Diego,  or  whomsoever  may 
be  in  possession  of  the  estate,  that  in  the  case  of  any 
schism  taking  place  in  the  Church  of  God,  or  that  any 
person  of  whatever  class  or  condition  should  attempt 
to  despoil  it  of  its  property  and  honors,  they  hasten 
to  offer  at  the  feet  of  his  holiness,  that  is,  if  they  are 
not  heretics  (which  God  forbid  !)  their  persons,  power, 
and  wealth,  for  the  purpose  of  suppressing  such 
schism,  and  preventing  any  spoliation  of  the  honor 
and  property  of  the  church. 

Item  :  I  command  the  said  Diego,  or  whoever  may 
possess  the  said  estate,  to  labor  and  strive  for  the 
honor,  welfare,  and  aggrandizement  of  the  city  of 
Genoa,  and  to  make  use  of  all  his  power  and  means  in 
defending  and  enhancing  the  good  and  credit  of  that 
republic,  in  all  things  not  contrary  to  the  service  of 
the  church  of  God,  or  the  high  dignity  of  our  king  and 
queen,  our  lords,  and  their  successors. 

Item  :  The  said  Diego,  or  whoever  may  possess  or 
succeed  to  the  estate,  out  of  the  fourth  part  of  the 
whole  revenue,  from  which,  as  aforesaid,  is  to  be  taken 
the  tenth,  when  Don  Bartholomew  or  his  heirs  shall 
have  saved  the  two  millions,  or  part  of  them,  and 
when  the  time  shall  come  of  making  a  distribution 
among  our  relations,  shall  apply  and  invest  the  said 
tenth  in  providing  marriages  for  such  daughters  of  our 
lineage  as  may  require  it,  and  in  doing  all  the  good  in 
their  power. 

Item  :  When  a  suitable  time  shall  arrive,  he  shall 
order  a  church  to  be  built  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola, 
and  in  the  most  convenient  spot,  to  be  called  Santa 
Maria  de  la  Concepcion  ;  to  which  is  to  be  annexed 
an  hospital,  upon  the  best  possible  plan,  like  those  of 
Italy  and  Castile,  and  a  chapel  erected  to  say  mass  in 
for  the  good  of  my  soul,  and  those  of  my  ancestors 
and  successors  with  great  devotion,  since  no  doubt  it 
will  please  the  Lord  to  give  us  a  sufficient  revenue  for 
this  and  the  aforementioned  purposes. 

Item  :  I  also  order  Diego  my  son,  or  whomsoever 
may  inherit  after  him,  to  spare  no  pains  in  having  and 
maintaining  in  the  island  of  Hispaniola,  four  good 
professors  of  theology,  to  the  end  and  aim  of  their 
studying  and  laboring  to  convert  to  our  holy  faith  the 
inhabitants  of  the  Indies  ;  and  in  propoition  as,  by 
God's  will,  the  revenue  of  the  estate  shall  increase,  in 
the  same  degree  shall  the  number  of  teachers  and  de- 
vout increase,  who  are  to  strive  to  make  Christians  of 
the  natives  ;  in  attaining  which  no  expense  should  be 
thought  too  great.  And  in  commemoration  of  all  that 
I  hereby  ordain,  and  of  the  foregoing,  a  monument  of 
marble  shall  be  erected  in  the  said  church  of  la  Con- 
cepcion, in  the  most  conspicuous  place,  to  serve  as  a 
record  of  what  I  here  enjoin  on  the  said  Diego,  as 
well  as  to  other  persons  who  may  look  upon  it  ;  which 
marbte  shall  contain  an  inscription  to  the  same  effect. 

Item  :  I  also  require  of  Diego  my  son,  and  whom- 
soever may  succeed  him  in  the  estate,  that  every-  lime, 
and  as  often  as  he  confesses,  he  first  show  this  obli- 
gation, or  a  copy  of  it,  to  the  confessor,  praying  him 
to  read  it  through,  that  he  may  be  enabled  to  inquire 
respecting  its  fulfilment  ;  from  which  will  redound 
great  good  and  happiness  to  his  soul. 

S. 

S.    A.  S. 
X.  M.  Y. 
EL  ALMIRANTE. 

No.  XXXVII. 

SIGNATURE    OF    COLUMDUS. 

As  everything  respecting  Columbus  is  full  of  in- 
terest, his  signature  has  been  a  matter  of  some  dis- 


280 


APPENDIX. 


cussion.  It  partook  of  the  pedantic  and  bigoted 
character  of  the  age,  and  perhaps  of  the  peculiar  char- 
acter of  the  man,  who,  considering  himself  mysteri- 
ously elected  and  set  apart  from  among  men  for  cer- 
tain great  purposes,  adopted  a  correspondent  formality 
and  solemnity  in  all  his  concerns.  His  signature  was 
as  follows  :  c 

S.  A.  S. 

X.  M.  Y. 

XPO  FERENS. 

The  first  half  of  the  signature,  XPO  (for  CHRIS- 
TO),  is  in  Greek  letters  ;  the  second,  FERENS,  is  in 
Latin.  Such  was  the  usage  of  those  days  ;  and  even 
at  present  both  Greek  and  Roman  letters  are  used  in 
signatures  and  inscriptions  in  Spain. 

The  ciphers  or  initials  above  the  signature  are  sup- 
posed to  represent  a  pious  ejaculation.  To  read 
them  one  must  begin  with  the  lower  letters,  and  con- 
nect them  with  those  above.  Signer  Gio.  Batista 
Spotorno  conjectures  them  to  mean  either  Xristus 
(Christus)  Sancta  Maria  Yosephus,  or,  Salve  me, 


Xristus,  Maria,  Yosephus.  The  North  American  Re- 
view, for  April,  1827,  suggests  the  substitution  of  Jesus 
for  Josephus,  but  the  suggestion  of  Spotorno  is  most 
probably  correct,  as  a  common  Spanish  ejaculation  is 
"  Jesus  Maria  y  Jose. " 

It  was  an  ancient  usage  in  Spain,  and  it  has  not  en- 
tirely gone  by,  to  accompany  the  signature  with  some 
words  of  religious  purport.  One  object  of  this  prac- 
tice was  to  show  the  writer  to  be  a  Christian.  This 
was  of  some  importance  in  a  country  in  which  Jews 
and  Mohammedans  were  proscribed  and  persecuted. 

Don  Fernando,  son  to  Columbus,  says  that  his 
father,  when  he  took  his  pen  in  hand,  usually  com- 
menced by  writing  "Jesus  cum  Maria  sit  nobis  in 
via  ;"  and  the  book  which  the  admiral  prepared  and 
sent  to  the  sovereigns,  containing  the  prophecies 
which  he  considered  as  referring  to  his  discoveries, 
and  to  the  rescue  of  the  holy  sepulchre,  begins  with 
the  same  words.  This  practice  is  akin  to  that  of  plac- 
ing the  initials  of  pious  words  above  his  signature,  and 
gives  great  probability  to  the  mode  in  which  they 
have  been  deciphered. 


INDEX. 


Acuna,  Don  Alonzo  de,  summons  Columbus  to  give 
an  account  of  himself,  on  his  return  from  the  New 

.     World,  67. 

Address  of  an  Indian  of  Cuba  to  Columbus,  109. 

Adelantado,  title  of,  given  to  Christopher  Columbus, 
confirmed  by  the  king,  133. 

Adrian  de  Moxica,  158. 

Admiral,  the,  a  title  granted  to  Columbus  and  his  de- 
scendants, 133. 

Africa,  essay  on  the  navigation  of,  by  the  ancients,  257. 

Aguado.  Juan,  recommended  to  the  Spanish  Govern- 
ment by  Columbus,  90  ;  appointed  commissioner 
to  inquire  into  the  conduct  of  Columbus,  125  ;  arrives 
at  Isabella,  ib.  ;  his  insolent  behavior,  ib.  ;  his  in- 
terview with  Columbus,  126  ;  the  Caciques  having 
preferred  complaints  against  Columbus,  he  deter- 
mines on  returning  to  Spain,  127. 

Alexander  VI.,  pope,  character  of,  74;  famous  bulls 
of,  relative  to  the  New  World,  ib.  ;  letter  of  Colum- 
bus to.  184. 

Aliaco,  Pedro,  work  of,  referred  to,  113. 

Alligators,  found  in  great  numbers  at  Puerto  Bello, 
192. 

All  Saints,  discovery  of  the  bay  of,  248. 

Alonzo,  Don,  heir  apparent  of  Portugal,  his  marriage 
with  the  Princess  Isabella,  28. 

Alpha  and  Omega,  the  extreme  point  of  Cuba,  51, 
102. 

Alva,  Duke  of,  Don  Diego  Columbus  marries  his 
daughter,  237  ;  he  assists  in  obtaining  justice  for 
his  son-in-law,  ib. 

Alvaro,  Don,  de  Portugal,  attack  upon,  in  the  royal 
tent,  27. 

Amazons,  an  island  of  supposed,  63  ;  warlike  women 
of  the  Caribbee  islands,  82,  129. 

Amazons,  river  of,  discovered  by  Vicente  Pinzon,  178. 

Amber,  specimens  of,  among  the  mountains  of  Cibao, 

94- 

Anacaona,  wife  to  Caonabo,  retires  with  her  brother 
Behechio,  after  the  great  battle  of  the  Vega,  122 ;  com- 
poses legendary  ballads,  145  ;  her  admiration  of  the 
Spaniards,  ib.  ;  counsels  her  brother  to  conciliate 
the  friendship  of  the  Spaniards,  ib.  ;  her  reception 
of  the  Adelantado,  146  ;  her  wonder  and  delight  at 
seeing  a  Spanish  ship,  149  ;  her  grief  at  the  depart- 
ure of  the  Adelantado,  ib.  ;  her  conduct  in  respect 
to  her  daughter  and  Guevara,  167  ;  her  admiration 
of  the  Spaniards  turned  into  detestation,  215  ;  re- 
ceives a  visit  from  Ovando,  216  ;  is  seized,  ib.  ; 
carried  in  chains  to  St.  Domingo,  ib.  ;  and  igno- 
miniously  hanged,  ib.  ;  her  fine  character,  217. 

Anana,  or  the  pineapple,  first  met  with,  81. 

Angel,  Luis  de  St.,  his  remonstrance  with  the  queen 
relative  to  the  project  of  Columbus,  31  ;  succeeds, 
ib. 

Antigua,  island  of,  discovered,  82. 

Antilles,  the,  discovered,  82  ;  taken  possession  of,  ib. 

Apparitions,  ideas  of  the  Haytians  in  respect  to,  97. 

Arana,  Diego  de,  left  in  charge  of  Hispaniola,  during 
the  first  absence  of  Columbus,  60  ;  history  of  the 
disaster  which  occurred  to  him  after  the  departure 
of  Columbus,  85. 

Aran,  Pedro  de,  commander  of  one  of  Columbus's 
ships  on  his  third  voyage,  136. 

Architecture,  first  signs  of  solid,  found  in  the  New 
World,  191. 

Areytos,  or  ballads,  of  the  Haytians,  98. 


Aristizabal,  Don  Gabriel  de,  solicits  the  removal  of  the 
remains  of  Columbus,  235. 

Arriaga,  Luis  de,  is  shut  up  within  the  walls  of  Mag- 
dalena,  116. 

Astrolabe,  the,  applied  to  navigation,  20. 

Alalantis,  Plato's,  observations  on,  269. 

Audience,  royal,  court  of,  established,  237. 

Augustine,  St.,  his  arguments  against  the  existence  of 
Antipodes,  25. 

Augustine,  St.,  Cape  of,  discovered  by  Pinzon,  178. 

Aurea  Chersonesus,  the  place  whence  Solomon  is  sup- 
posed to  have  had  gold,  196. 

Azores,  the,  when  discovered,  n  ;  arrival  at  by 
Columbus  on  his  return  from  his  first  voyage,  65. 

B. 

Babeque,  a  supposed  island,  Columbus  goes  in  search 
of,  50,  103. 

Bahama  Islands,  discovery  of,  41  ;  cruise  among 
the,  44. 

Ballads  of  the  Haytians,  98,  123. 

Ballester,  Miguel,  his  conduct  during  the  conspiracy 
of  Roldan,  151  [receives  a  letter  from  Columbus, 
158  ;  his  character,  ib.  ;  interview  with  Roldan, 
ib.  ;  second  interview,  160  ;  sends  advice  to  the  ad- 
miral, ib.  ;  is  besieged  in  the  fortress  of  Concep- 
tion, ib.  ;  sails  for  Spain,  163. 

Barbas,  Las.  islands  of,  discovered,  201. 

Barrantes,  Garcia  de,  sails  for  Spain  163. 

Barros,  Joam  de,  his  account  of  Columbus's  propo- 
sition to  John  II.  King  of  Portugal,  20. 

Basil,  St.,  his  description  of  Paradise,  282. 

Bastides,  Rodrigo,  of  Seville,  explores  the  coast  of 
Terra  Firma,  178. 

Baza,  surrender  of,  28. 

Beata,  Cape,  sailors  of  Columbus  climb  the  rock  of, 
141. 

Behem,  Martin,  his  planisphere,  35  ;  an  account  of, 
254  ;  the  assertion  relative  to  his  having  discovered 
the  western  world,  previous  to  Columbus  considered, 

255- 

Behechio  assists  Caonabo,  and  kills  one  of  the  wives  of 
Guacanagari,  117  ;  the  only  Cacique  who  does  not 
sue  for  peace,  122  ;  receives  a  visit  from  Bartholo- 
mew Columbus,  145  ;  his  reception  of  him,  146  ; 
consents  to  pay  tribute,  ib.  ;  invites  the  Adelantado 
to  come  and  receive  it,  149  ;  his  astonishment  at 
visiting  a  Spanish  ship,  ib. 

Belen,  river  of,  discovered,  194  ;  abounds  in  fish, 
196  ;  Columbus  commences  a  settlement  on  its 
banks,  ib. 

Bell  of  Isabella,  the  superstitious  ideas  of  the  Haytians 
in  respect  to  it,  118. 

Belvis  Pablo,  sent  to  Hayti  in  the  place  of  Fermin 
Cedo,  125. 

Berahoma,  condemned  to  death  for  having  violated 
the  wife  of  the  Cacique  of  the  Vega,  150  ;  is  par- 
doned, ib. 

Bernaldez,  Andrez,  a  short  account  of  his  life  and 
writings,  278. 

Bernardo  of  Valentia,  his  conspiracy  at  Jamaica,  208. 

Bloodhounds,  first  use  of  in  the  New  World,  103  ;  em- 
ployed by  Columbus  in  his  wars  with  the  Haytians, 
121. 

Bobadilla,  Don  Francisco  de,  charged  with  a  com- 
mission to  Hispaniola  to  inquire  into  the  conduct  of 
Columbus.  170  ;  his  character,  ib.  ;  instructions 
with  which  he  is  charged,  ib.  ;  sails,  ib.  ;  arrives 


288 


INDEX. 


at  St.  Domingo,  171  ;  his  judgment  formed  before 
he  leaves  his  ship,  ib.  ;  assumes  power  on  landing, 
ib.  ;  storms  the  fortress  of  St.  Domingo,  172  ;  as- 
sumes the  government  before  he  investigates  the 
conduct  of  Columbus,  ib.  ;  seizes  his  arms,  gold, 
secret  papers,  etc.,  ib.  ;  summons  Columbus  tu  ap- 
pear before  him,  173  ;  his  baseness  in  collecting  evi- 
dence, ib.  ;  puts  Don  Diego  in  chains,  ib.  ;  also 
Columbus,  174  ;  his  fear.s  in  respect  to  the  Adelan- 
tado,  ib.  ;  puts  him  in  irons,  ib  ;  his  maladmin- 
istration, iSo  ;  a  saying  of  his,  ib.  ;  superseded  in 
his  government  by  Ovando,  181  ;  sails  for  Spain 
and  is  lost,  with  all  his  crew,  in  a  violent  hurricane, 
186. 

Boca  del  Sierpe,  138. 

Borgonon,  Juan,  labors  to  convert  the  Haytians,  147. 

Boyle,  Bernardo,  friar,  appointed  apostolical  vicar  for 
the  New  World,  75  ,  his  advice  to  Columbus  in  re- 
spect to  Guacanagari,  88  ;  confirms  the  accounts 
sent  home  by  Columbus.  91  ;  consecrates  the  first 
church  at  Isabella,  ib.  ;  his  character  and  conduct, 
99  ;  his  hatred  of  Columbus,  115  ;  encourages  the 
misconduct  of  Margarite,  ib.  ;  forms  the  plan  of 
seizing  Bartholomew  Columbus's  ships  and  return- 
ing to  Spain,  ib.  ;  sets  sails,  ib.  ;  his  accusations  of 
Columbus  at  the  court  of  Madrid,  124. 

Brandan,  St.,  imaginary  island  of,  2/0. 

Brazils,  the,  discovered  by  Vicente  Pinzon,  178  ;  a 
part  discovered  and  taken  possession  of  for  the  Por- 
tuguese crown  by  Cabral,  ib. 

Breviesca,  Ximeno  de,  a  worthless  hireling,  135  ;  his 
conduct  and  punishment,  ib. 

Bucklers,  used  by  the  natives  of  Trinidad,  138. 

Bull  of  Partition  issued  by  Pope  Martin  V.,  73  ;  rel- 
ative to  the  New  World,  issued  by  Pope  Alexander 
VI.,  74- 

of  Demarcation,  74. 

Burgos,  the  court  held  at,  132. 

Butios,  the  priests  of  the  Haytians,  96. 

Butterflies,  clouds  of,  seen  on  the  southern  coast  of 
Cuba,  107. 

C. 

Cabot,  Sebastian,  discovers  Labrador,  supposed  to  be 
the  first  that  visited  the  main- land  of  the  New  World, 
252. 

Cabral,  Pedro  Alvarez  de,  discovers  part  of  the  Bra- 
zils, and  lakes  possession  of  it  in  the  name  of  the 
King  of  Portugal,  178. 

Cabron,  Cape,  or  Capo  del  Enamorado,  62. 

Cacao,  first  known  to  the  Spaniards,  187. 

Caciques,  seizure  of  fourteen,  in  the  night,  by  Bar- 
tholomew Columbus  and  his  officers,  148. 

Canaries,  an  optical  delusion  seen  by  the  people  of 
the,  13  ;  arrival  of  Columbus  at,  in  his  first  voyage, 
36. 

Canoes,  capable  of  containing  150  persons,  seen  at 
Puerto  Santo,  51  ;  large  size  of  those  at  Jamaica, 
103. 

Caonabo.  character  and  conduct  of,  86  ;  takes  the 
fortress  at  La  Navidad,  ib.  ;  and  massacres  the 
Spaniards,  ib.  ;  assembles  his  warriors,  99  ;  Co- 
lumbus leaves  directions  with  Margarite  to  sur- 
prise, lor  ;  besieges  Ojeda,  116  ;  gives  up  the  siege 
and  retires,  ib.  ;  forms  a  plan  of  exterminating  the 
Spaniards,  117  ;  invades  the  territories  of  Guacana- 
gari, ib.  ;  character  of,  118  ;  is  visited  by  Ojeda,  with 
a  design  to  entrap  him,  ib.  ;  agrees  to  wait  upon 
Columbus,  and  sets  forward,  ib.  ;  is  taken  by  strata- 
gem, ib.  ;  is  chained,  ib.  ;  his  conduct  when  in  the 
presence  of  Columbus,  119  ;  embarks  for  Spain, 
129  ;  a  Guadaloupe  woman  falls  in  love  with  him, 
ib.  ;  dies  on  the  voyage,  130. 

Carocol,  island  of,  140. 

Cariari,  transactions  at,  189. 

Caribbee  Islands  discovered,  80. 

Caribs,  character  of  the,  Si  ,  origin  of,  83  ;  cruelty 
to,  238. 

Caravajal,  Don  Garcia  Lopez  de,  his  embassy  to 
Portugal,  77. 


Caravajal,  Alonzo  de,  commander  of  one  of  Colum- 
bus's ships,  on  his  third  voyage,  136  ;  arrives  at 
Hispaniola,  157  ;  volunteers  to  endeavor  to  bring 
the  rebels  of  Xaragua  to  obedience,  ib.  ;  his  ship 
strikes  on  a  sand-bank,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  St.  Domingo 
by  land,  158  ;  suspicions  entertained  against  him, 
159  ;  takes  a  letter  from  the  admiral  to  Roldan,  160  ; 
takes  propositions  from  Roldan  to  the  admiral, 
161  ;  another  interview  with  Roldan,  ib.  ;  appointed 
factor  to  Columbus,  181  ;  his  evidence  relative  to 
the  discovery  of  the  coast  of  Paria  by  Columbus,  250. 

Carracks,  description  of,  79  ;  see  note. 

Casas,  Las,  his  character  of  Don  Diego  Columbus, 
92  ;  his  observations  relative  to  Hayti,  94  ;  his  ac- 
count of  two  Spaniards,  100  ;  his  picture  of  the  con- 
sequences of  the  administration  of  Ova-ndo,  112, 
note  ;  his  account  of  a  combat  between  one  Indian 
and  two  mounted  cavaliers,  217  ;  is  present  at  a 
battle  in  Higuey,  219-20  ;  his  remark  on  the  cold  re- 
ception of  Columbus  by  the  king.  225  ;  his  remark 
in  respect  to  the  injustice  of  Ferdinand.  226  ;  an 
account  of,  274  ;  his  zeal  in  behalf  of  the  slaves, 
275  ;  his  dubious  expedient  to  lessen  the  quantum 
of  human  misery,  ib.  ;  character  of  his  General 
History  of  the  Indies,  ib. 

Castaneda,  Juan  de,  his  disgraceful  reception  of 
Columbus  on  his  return  from  the  New  World, 
66  ;  cause  of  his  conduct,  ib. 

Catalina,  a  Carib,  her  admiration  of  Guacanagari, 
88  ;  proposes  to  her  captive  companions  an  at- 
tempt to  regain  their  liberty,  ib.  ;  escapes  by  swim- 
ming, ib. 

Catalina,  a  female  Cacique,  falls  in  love  with  Miguel 
Diaz,  127  ;  imparts  to  him  a  knowledge  of  the  gold 
mines  of  Hayna,  ib. 

Cathay,  accounts  of  Marco  Polo  in  respect  to,  267  ; 
of  Sir  John  Mandeville,  268. 

Catherine,  St.,  discovery  of,  51. 

Cavern,  near  Cape  Fransois,  description  of,  96. 

Caymans,  islands  of,  201. 

Cedo,  Fermin,  his  opinion  in  respect  to  the  gold  found 
in  Hispaniola,  92  ;  Belvis  sent  in  his  place,  125. 

Ceuta,  the  bishop  of,  his  arguments  against  the  prop- 
osition of  Columbus,  20  ;  proposes  to  the  council 
to  keep  Columbus  iu  suspense,  and  in  the  mean  time 
to  send  a  ship  in  the  route  proposed,  21  ;  this  ad- 
vice acted  upon,  ib.  ;  and  fails,  ib. 

Chanca,  Dr.,  confirms  the  accounts  sent  home  by 
Columbus,  91. 

Charles  VIII.,  King  of  France,  his  kindness  to  Bar- 
tholomew Columbus,  113. 

Charles  V.  succeeds  his  grandfather,  Ferdinand,  238  ; 
recognizes  the  innocence  of  Don  Diego  Columbus, 
ib.  ;  acknowledges  the  right  of  Don  Diego  to  exer- 
cise the  office  of  viceroy,  239  ;  his  orders  in  respect 
to  the  claims  of  Don  Diego's  widow,  240  ;  his  ordi- 
nances relative  to  the  slave  trade,  275. 

Charlevoix,  his  description  of  the  sea  of  the  Antilles, 

47- 

Chaufepie,  Jacques  George,  a  passage  from,  in  respect 
to  the  Colombos,  245. 

Christoval,  St.,  fortress  of,  erected  by  Bartholomew 
Columbus,  144  ;  mountains  of,  195. 

Cibao.  Columbus's  expedition  to  the  mountains  of, 
92  ;  meaning  of  the  word  Cibao,  94  ;  Luxan's  de- 
scription of  the  mountains  of,  95. 

Ciguayens,  a  warlike  Indian  tribe,  accounUof,  63. 

Cintra,  rock  of,  arrival  at,  by  Columbus  on  his  return 
from  the  New  World,  67. 

Cipango  (or  Japan),  Marco  Polo's  account  of,  268. 

Cities,  island  of  the  Seven,  272. 

Cladera,  Don  Christoval,  his  refutation  of  a  letter  writ- 
ten by  M.  Otto,  to  Dr.  Franklin,  255. 

Colon,  Diego,  acts  as  interpreter.  102,  109  ;  his  speech 
to  the  natives  of  Cuba,  no;  marries  the  daughter 
of  the  Cacique  Guarionex,  118. 

Colombo,  the  old  Genoese  admiral,  conveys  the  King 
of  Portugal  to  the  Mediterranean  coast  of  France, 
10. 

Colombo,  the  younger  (nephew  of  the  old  admiral),  a 
famous  corsair,  Iu. 


INDEX. 


289 


Colombo,   Balthazar,  of  Cuccaro,  loses  his  cause  in 
respect  to  the  heirship  of  Columbus,  240. 
— ,  Juan,  commander  of  one  of   Columbus's  ships 
on  his  third  voyage,  136. 

Colombos,  the  navigators,  an  account  of,  245  ;  cap- 
ture of  the  Venetian  galleys,  246. 

Columbus,  Bartholomew,  accompanies  Bartholomew 
Diaz  along  the  coast  of  Africa,  112  ;  an  account  of 
his  proceedings,  113  ;  arrives  at  Valladolid,  ib.  ; 
sent  to  assist  his  brother  with  three  ships,  ib.  ;  char- 
acter of,  ib.  ;  is  invested  by  Columbus  with  the  title 
and  authority  of  Adelantado,  114  ;  attends  his 
brother  in  his  expedition  against  the  Indians  of  the 
Vega,  121  ;  goes  to  the  mines  of  Hayna,  128  ;  is  in- 
vested with  the  command  on  the  return  of  Colum- 
bus to  Spain,  ib.  ;  takes  Porras  prisoner,  136  ;  sails 
to  meet  his  brother.  141  ;  account  of  his  administra- 
tion during  the  absence  of  Columbus,  144  ;  sends 
300  Indians  to  Spain  to  be  sold  as  slaves,  ib.  ; 
erects  the  fortress  of  San  Domingo,  145  ;  pays  a 
visit  to  Behechio,  146  ;  his  reception,  ib.  ;  demands 
a  tribute,  ib.  ;  establishes  a  chain  of  military  posts, 
ib.  ;  causes  several  Indians  who  had  broken  some 
Christian  images,  etc.,  to  be  burnt,  147  ;  marches 
against  the  Caciques,  who  had  formed  a  conspiracy 
against  the  Spaniards,  148  ;  causes  them  to  be 
seized,  ib.  ;  pardons  most  of  them,  ib.  ;  again 
visits  Behechio  to  receive  the  tribute  of  cotton,  149  ; 
his  skill  in  government,  ib.  ;  a  conspiracy  formed 
against  him  by  Roldan,  150  ;  narrowly  escapes 
assassination,  151  ;  repairs  to  the  Vega  in  relief  of 
Fort  Conception,  ib.  ;  his  interview  with  Roldan, 
152  ;  is  shut  up  in  Fort  Conception,  153  ;  relieved 
by  the  arrival  of  Coronal,  ib.  ;  publishes  an  amnesty 
to  all  who  return  to  their  duty,  ib.  ;  marches  against 
Guarionex,  who  has  rebelled,  154  ;  his  campaign  in 
the  mountains  of  Ciguay,  ib.  ;  releases  the  wife  of 
one  of  the  Caciques  whe..n  he  had  taken  with  May- 
obanex,  155  ;  favorable  consequences  of  this,  ib.  ; 
his  vigorous  proceedit.gs  against  the  rebels  engaged 
in  the  conspiracy  of  Guevara  and  Moxica,  168  ;  is 
put  in  irons  by  Bobadilla,  174  ;  accompanies  Colum- 
bus on  his  fourth  voyage,  185  ;  waits  on  the  Gov- 
ernor of  Ercilla,  ib.  ;  takes  possession  of  Cape 
Honduras  in  the  name  of  the  sovereigns  of  Castile, 
iSS  ;  lands  at  Cariari,  189  ;  forms  a  plan  to  seize 
Quibian,  197  ;  does  so,  with  his  wives  and  chil- 
dren, ib.  ;  Quibian  escapes,  ib.  ;  and  attacks  in 
return,  198  ;  is  finally  compelled  to  remove  the 
settlement  to  another  place,  199  ;  is  in  great  dan- 
ger, ib.  ;  compelled  to  embark  with  his  brother  and 
all  his  men,  200  ;  sets  sail  from  St.  Domingo  for 
Spain  with  his  brother,  222  ;  proceeds  to  court  to 
urge  the  justice  of  the  king,  225  ;  accompanies  his 
brother  to  court,  ib.  ;  goes  to  represent  his  brother 
on  the  arrival  of  the  new  king  and  queen  of  Castile, 
227  ;  is  sent  out  to  St.  Domingo  by  Ferdinand  to 
admonish  his  nephew,  Don  Diego,  238  ;  is  presented 
with  the  property  and  government  of  Mona  for  life, 
etc.,  ib.  ;  dies  at  St.  Domingo,  ib.  ;  his  character, 
:b. 

Columbus,  Christopher,  account  of  his  birth,  parent- 
age, and  education,  8  ;  early  life  of,  ib.  ;  his  first 
%  voyage,  9  ;  engages  in  the  service  of  Reinier,  King 
of  Naples,  ib. ;  alters  the  point  of  the  compass  of  his 
ship  to  deceive  his  discontented  crew,  ib.  ;  engaged 
in  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Levant,  10  ;  said  to 
be  appointed  captain  of  several  Genoese  ships  in  the 
service  of  Louis  XL,  ib.  ;  his  gallant  conduct  when 
sailing  with  Colombo  the  younger,  ib.  ;  goes  to 
Lisbon,  where  he  takes  up  his  residence,  10,  12  ; 
picture  of  his  person,  ib.  ;  early  character,  ib.  ;  be- 
comes enamored  of  Dona  Felipa  Monis  de  Pales- 
trello,  whom  he  marries,  ib.  ;  becomes  possessed  of 
his  father-in-law's  charts,  journals,  etc.,  ib.  ;  re- 
moves to  the  island  of  Porto  Santo,  13  ;  becomes 
acquainted  with  Pedro  Correo,  a  navigator  of  note, 
ib.  ;  is  animated  with  a  wish  to  make  discoveries, 
ib.  ;  grounds  on  which  he  founds  his  belief  of  the 
existence  of  undiscovered  countries  in  the  West, 
14  ;  correspondence  of  Columbus  with-  Paulo  Tos- 


canelli,  16  ;  makes  a  voyage  to  the  north  of  Europe, 
ib.  ;  the  astrolabe  having  been  applied  to  naviga- 
tion, Columbus  proposes  a  voyage  of  discovery  to 
John  II.,  King  of  Portugal,  20  ;  this  proposition  is 
referred  to  a  junto  charged  with  all  matters  relating 
to  maritime  discovery,  ib.  ;  who  regard  the  project 
as  visionary,  ib.  ;  the  king  then  refers  it  to  his  coun- 
cil, ib.  ;  by  whom  it  is  condemned,  21  ;  a  ship  is 
secretly  sent  in  the  direction  proposed,  but  returns, 
ib.  ;  Columbus's  indignation,  ib.  ;  loses  his  wife, 
ib.  ;  quits  Portugal,  ib.  ;  goes  to  Genoa  and  pro- 
poses his  project  to  the  government,  ib.  ;  it  is  re- 
jected, ib.  ;  visits  his  father,  ib.  ;  supposed  by 
some  to  have  carried  his  plan  to  Venice,  22  ;  arrives 
in  Spain,  and  requests  a  little  bread  and  water  at  a 
convent  of  Franciscan  friars,  29  ;  the  prior  detains 
him  as  a  guest,  ib.  ;  and  invites  Garcia  Fernandez 
to  meet  him,  ib.  ;  gives  him  letters  of  introduction 
to  Fernando  de  Talavera,  Queen  Isabella's  con- 
fessor, ib.  ;  sets  out  for  Cordova,  22  ;  arrives  there, 
23  ;  finds  it  impossible  to  obtain  a  hearing,  ib.  ; 
the  queen's  confessor  regards  his  plan  as  impossi- 
ble, ib.  ;  maintains  himself  by  designing  maps  and 
charts,  28  ;  is  received  into  the  house  of  Alonzo  de 
Quintanilla,  23  ;  introduced  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Toledo,  24  ;  who  gives  him  an  attentive  hearing, 
ib.  ;  becomes  his  friend  and  procures  him  an  audi- 
ence of  the  king,  ib. ;  who  desires  the  prior  of  Prado 
to  assemble  astronomers,  etc.,  to  hold  conference 
with  him,  ib.  ;  Columbus  appears  before  the  assem- 
bly at  Salamanca,  ib.  ;  arguments  against  his  theory, 
25  ;  his  reply,  ib.  ;  the  subject  experiences  procras- 
tination and  neglect,  26  ;  is  compelled  to  follow  the 
movements  of  the  court,  27  ;  his  plan  recommended 
by  the  Marchioness  of  Moya,  27,  30,  31  ;  receives 
an  invitation  to  return  to  Portugal  from  John  II., 
27  ;  receives  a  favorable  letter  from  Henry  VII.  of 
England,  ib.  ;  distinguishes  himself  in  the  cam- 
paign of  1489,  and  is  impressed  deeply  with  the 
arrival  and  message  of  two  friars  from  the  Soldan 
of  Egypt  relative  to  the  Holy  Land,  28  ;  determines 
to  devote  the  profits  arising  from  his  intended  dis- 
covery to  the  purpose  of  rescuing  the  holy  sepul- 
chre from  the  hands  of  the  infidels,  ib.  ;  council  of 
learned  men  again  convened,  ib.  ;  who  pronounce 
the  scheme  vain  and  impossible,  ib.  ;  receives  a 
message  from  the  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  has  an  audience 
of  the  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  leaves  Seville  in  disgust, 
29  ;  forms  a  connection  with  Beatrix  Enriquez,  24  ; 
applies  to  the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  who  rejects 
his  plan,  22  ;  applies  to  the  Duke  of  Medina  Celi, 
who  is  prevented  from  acceding  to  his  plan  from  a 
fear  of  the  court,  ib.  ;  returns  to  the  convent  of  La 
Rabida,  29  ;  Alonzo  Pinzon  offers  to  pay  his  ex- 
penses in  a  renewed  application  to  the  court,  ib.  ; 
returns  at  the  desire  of  the  queen,  30  ;  witnesses 
the  surrender  of  Granada  to  the  Spanish  arms,  ib.  ; 
negotiation  with  persons  appointed  by  the  sover- 
eigns, ib.  ;  his  propositions  are  considered  extrav- 
agant, ib.  ;  are  pronounced  inadmissible,  ib.,  ; 
lower  terms  are  offered  him,  which  he  rejects,  31  ; 
the  negotiation  broken  off,  ib.  ;  quits  Santa  Fe,  ib.  ; 
Luis  de  St.  Angel  reasons  with  the  queen,  ib.  ;  who 
at  last  consents,  ib.  ;  a  messenger  dispatched  to 
recall  Columbus,  ib.  ;  he  returns  to  Santa  Fe,  32  ; 
arrangement  with  the  Spanish  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  his 
son  appointed  page  to  Prince  Juan.  33  ;  he  returns 
to  La  Rabida,  ib.  ;  preparations  at  the  Port  of 
Palos,  and  apprehensions  there  relative  to  the 
expedition,  ib.  ;  not  a  vessel  can  be  procured,  ib.  ; 
they  are  at  last  furnished,  ib.  ;  Columbus  hoists  his 
flag,  34.  ;  sails,  35  ;  prologue  to  his  voyage,  ib.  ; 
an  account  of  the  map  he  had  prepared  previous  to 
sailing,  ib.  ;  difficulties  begin  to  arise,  36  ;  arrives 
at  the  Canaries,  ib.  ;  comes  in  sight  of  Mount 
Teneriffe,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Gomera,  ib.  ;  the  news 
which  reached  him  there,  ib.  ;  alarm  of  his  sailors 
on  losing  all  sight  of  land,  ib.  ;  begins  to  keep  two 
reckonings,  37  ;  falls  in  with  part  of  a  mast,  ib.  ; 
notices  a  variation  of  the  needle,  ib.  ;  his  opinoin 
relative  to  that  phenomenon,  ib.  ;  they  are  visited 


290 


INDEX. 


by  two  birds,  ib.  ;  terrors  of  the  seamen,  ib.  ;  sees 
large  patches  of  weeds,  ib.  ;  his  situation  becomes 
more  critical,  38  ;  part  of  his  crew  determine, 
should  he  refuse  to  return,  to  throw  him  into  the 
sea,  39  ;  false  appearance  of  land,  ib.,  40 ;  his 
crew  become  exceedingly  clamorous,  41  ;  the  as- 
sertion that  he  capitulated  with  them  disproved, 
ib.  ;  his  address  to  the  crew,  ib.  ;  sees  a  light,  42  ; 
land  discovered,  ib.  ;  the  reward  for  land  adjudged 
to  him,  ib.  ;  lands  on  the  island  of  St.  Salvador, 
ib.  ;  which  he  takes  possession  of  in  the  name  of 
the  Castilian  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  the  surprise  of  the 
natives,  ib.  ;  gold  first  discovered,  43  ;  recon- 
noitres the  island,  44  ;  takes  seven  of  the  inhab- 
itants to  teach  them  Spanish  that  they  might  be- 
come interpreters,  ib.  ;  discovers  Santa  Maria  de 
la  Concepcion,  ib.  ;  discovers  Exuma,  45  ;  dis- 
covers Isabella,  ib.  ;  hears  of  two  islands  called 
Cuba  and  Bohio,  46  ;  sails  in  search  of  the 
former,  ib  ;  discovers  it,  ib.  ;  takes  formal  pos- 
session, ib.  ;  sends  two  Spaniards  up  the  country, 
48  ;  coasts  along  the  shore,  ib.  ;  return  of  the 
Spaniards  with  their  report,  49  ;  goes  in  search 
of  the  supposed  island  of  Babeque,  50  ;  discovers 
an  archipelago,  to  which  he  gives  the  name  of  the 
King's  Garden,  51  ;  desertion  of  Alonzo  Pinzon, 
ib.  ;  discovers  St.  Catharine,  in  which  he  finds 
stones  veined  with  gold,  ib,  ;  specimen  of  his  style 
in  description  ib.  ;  reaches  what  he  supposes  to  be 
the  eastern  extremity  of  Asia,  ib.  ;  discovers  His- 
paniola,  ib.  ;  its  transcendent  appearance,  52  ; 
enters  a  harbor,  to  which  he  gives  the  name  of  St. 
Nicholas,  ib.  ;  a  female  brought  to  him  who  wore 
an  ornament  of  gold  in  her  nose,  ib.  ;  coasts  along 
the  shores,  55  ;  is  visited  by  a  Cacique,  ib.  ;  re- 
ceives a  message  from  Guacanagari.  56  ;  his  ship 
strikes  upon  a  sand-bank  in  the  night,  57  ;  some 
of  his  crew  desert  in  a  boat,  ib.  ;  the  ship  becomes 
a  wreck,  and  he  takes  refuge  on  board  a  caravel, 
ib.  ;  receives  assistance  from  Guacanagari,  ib.  ; 
transactions  with  the  natives,  ib.  ;  is  invited  to  the 
residence  of  Guacanagari,  58  ;  his  affectionate  re- 
ception of  him,  ib.  ;  his  people  desire  to  have 
permission  to  remain  in  the  island,  59  ;  he  forms 
the  plan  of  a  colony  and  the  design  of  construct- 
ing a  fortress,  ib.  ;  and  of  returning  to  Spain  for 
reinforcements,  ib.  ;  entertained  in  the  most  hos- 
pitable manner  by  Guacanagari,  60 ;  who  pro- 
cures for  him  a  great  quantity  of  gold  previous  to 
his  departure,  ib.  ;  his  address  to  the  people,  ib,  ; 
gives  a  feast  to  the  chieftains,  61  ;  sails,  ib.  ; 
coasts  toward  the  eastern  end  of  Hispaniola,  62  ; 
meets  with  Pinzon,  ib.  ;  Pinzon's  apology,  ib.  ; 
account  of  the  Ciguayens,  63  ;  the  first  native  blood 
shed  by  the  whites,  ib.  ;  account  of  the  return  voy- 
age. 64  ;  encounters  violent  storms,  ib.  ;  the  crew 
draw  lots  who  shall  perform  pilgrimages,  65  ;  two 
lots  fall  to  the  admiral ;  vows  made,  ib.  ;  commits 
an  account  of  his  voyage  in  a  barrel  to  the  sea,  ib.  ; 
land  discovered,  ib.  ;  which  proves  to  be  the  Azores, 
ib.  ;  transactions  at  St.  Mary's,  66  ;  receives  sup- 
plies and  a  message  from  the  governor,  ib.  ;  at- 
tempted performance  of  the  vow  made  during  the 
storm,  ib.  ;  the  seamen  taken  prisoners  by  the  rab- 
ble, headed  by  the  governor,  ib.  ;  the  governor's 
disgraceful  conduct,  ib.  ;  seamen  liberated,  ib.  ; 
cause  of  the  governor's  conduct,  ib.  ;  violent  gales, 
67  ;  lots  for  pilgrimages  again  cast,  ib.  ;  arrives 
off  Cintra.  in  Portugal,  ib.  ;  writes  to  the  sovereigns 
and  the  King  of  Portugal,  ib.  ;  is  summoned  by  a 
Portuguese  admiral  to  give  an  account  of  himself, 
ib.  ;  effect  of  his  return  at  Lisbon,  ib.  ;  receives  an 
invitation  from  the  King  of  Portugal,  68  ;  inter- 
view with  the  king,  ib. ;  jealousy  of  the  king  excited, 
ib.  ;  a  proposition  to  the  king  by  some  of  his  court- 
iers to  assassinate  Columbus  and  take  advantage  of 
his  discoveries,  ib.  ;  rejected  by  the  king,  69  ;  dis- 
graceful plot  of  the  king  to  rob  Spain  of  the  newly 
discovered  possessions,  ib.  ;  his  interview  with  the 
Queen  of  Portugal,  ib.  ;  enters  the  harbor  of  Palos, 
ib.  ;  account  of  his  reception  there,  ib.  ;  arrival  of 


Pinzon,  ib.  ;  receives  an  invitation  from  the  sover- 
eigns at  Barcelona,  70  ;  his  reception  on  the  road, 
71  ;  is  received  in  a  magnificent  manner  by  the 
courtiers,  ib.  ;  and  the  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  his  vow  in 
respect  to  the  holy  sepulchre,  ib.  ;  the  manner  in 
which  his  discoveries  were  received  throughout 
Europe,  72  ;  a  coat  of  arms  given  him,  ib.  ;  the 
manner  in  which  he  receives  the  honors  paid  to  him, 
73  ;  preparations  for  a  second  voyage,  74  ;  agree- 
ment made  with  the  sovereigns,  75  ;  powers  with 
which  he  is  invested,  ib.  ;  takes  leave  of  the  sov- 
ereigns at  Barcelona,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Seville,  77  ; 
prepares  for  the  voyage,  ib . ;  ideas  of  Columbus  and 
the  people  relative  to  the  New  World,,  ib.  ;  inso- 
lence of  Juan  de  Soria,  78  ;  conduct  of  Fonseca, 
ib.  ;  departure  on  his  second  voyage,  79  ;  anchors 
atGomera,  80  ;  gives  sealed  instructions  to  the  com- 
mander of  each  vessel,  ib.  ;  sees  a  swallow,  ib.  ; 
encounters  a  storm,  ib.  ;  sees  the  lights  of  St.  Elmo 
ib.  ;  discovers  the  Caribbee  Islands,  ib.  ;  takes 
possession  of  them,  ib.  ;  discovers  Guadaloupe, 
ib.  ;  transactions  there,  81  ;  cruises  among  the 
Caribbees,  82  ;  arrives  at  Hispaniola,  84  ;  at  the 
Gulf  of  Samana,  ib.  ;  anchors  at  Monte  Christi, 
ib.  ;  arrives  at  La  Navidad,  ib.  ;  is  visited  by 
a  cousin  of  the  Cacique,  ib.  ;  learns  a  disaster 
which  had  occurred  at  the  fortress,  ib.  ;  visits  Gua- 
canagari, 86  ;  abandons  La  Navidad,  88  ;  founds 
the  city  of  Isabella  at  Monte  Christi.  89  ;  falls  sick, 
ib.  ;  sends  Alonzo  de  Ojeda  to  explore  the  interior 
of  the  island,  ib.  ;  dispatches  twelve  ships  to  Spain, 

90  ;    requests    fresh     supplies,     ib.  ;    recommends 
Pedro  Margarite  and  Juan  Aguado  to  the  patronage 
of  the  government,  ib.  ;  recommends  a  curious  plan 
in  respect  to  an  exchange  of  Caribs  for  live  stock, 

91  ;    recommendation    of   Columbus  in  respect   to 
the  Caribs,  ib.  ;    his  conduct  in   respect  to   Diaz's 
mutiny,  92  ;  consequences,  ib.  ;  sets  out  on  an  ex- 
pedition to  the  mountains  of  Cibao,  ib.  ;  erects  a 
fortress   of   wopd  among  the  mountains,   94  ;   re- 
turns to   Isabella,   98  ;  receives  unpleasant  intelli- 
gence from  Pedro  Margarite,  99  ;  sickness  in   the 
colony,    ib.  ;  puts  his  people  on  short  allowance, 
ib.  ;  offends  the  Hidalgos,   by  making  them  share 
the  common  labors  of  the  colony,  ib.  ;    distributes 
his  forces  in  the  interior,  100  ;  gives  the  command 
of  them  to  Pedro  Margarite,  ib.  ;  his  instructions  to 
that  officer,  ib.  ;  instructs  Margarite  to  surprise  and 
secure  Caonabo,    101  ;    his    conduct  in   respect  to 
Haytian    thieves,   ib.  ;   sails   for   Cuba,   ib.  ;    visits 
La  Navidad,  102  ;  arrives  at  St.  Nicholas,  ib.  ;  lands 
at  Guantanamo,  ib.  ;  anchors  at  St.  Jago,  103  ;  sails 
in  search  of  Babeque,  ib.  ;  discovers  Jamaica,  ib.  ; 
received  in  a  hostile  manner,  ib.  ;  takes  possession 
of  the  island,    ib.  ;    amicable  intercourse  with  the 
natives,  ib.  ;  returns  to  Cuba,  104  ;  lands  at  Cabo 
de  la  Cruz,  ib.  ;  encounters  a  storm,   ib.  ;  becomes 
engaged  in  a  most  difficult  navigation,  ib.  ;  discovers 
an  archipelago,  to  which  he  gives  the  name  of  the 
Queen's  Gardens,  ib.  ;  hears  of  a  province  called 
Mangon,  which  greatly  excites  his  attention,    105  ; 
coasts  along  the  southern  side  of  Cuba,   ib.  ;  en- 
counters a  dangerous  navigation   in   a  white   sea, 
106  ;  sends  parties  to  explore  the   interior  of  the 
country,  ib.  ;  deceives  himself  in  respect  to  what 
he   wishes,    107  ;    fancies   he    has  arrived   on    that 
part  of  Asia  which  is  beyond  the  boundaries  of  the 
Old  World,  laid  down  by  Ptolemy,  io3  ;  anticipates 
returning   to    Spain    by    the    Aurea    Chersonesus, 
Taprobana,  the  Straits  of  Babelmandel,  and  the  Red 
Sea,    or   the   coast   of   Africa,    ib.  ;    returns   along 
the  southern  coast  of  Cuba,   in  the  assurance  that 
Cuba  was  the  extremity  of  the  Asiatic  continent, 
ib.  ;  discovers  the  island  of  Evangelista,  ib.  ;   his 
ship  runs  aground,  109  ;  sails  along  the  province  of 
Ornofay,  ib.  ;  erects  crosses  in  conspicuous  situa- 
tions to  denote  his  discoveries,  ib.  ;  is  addressed  by 
an  Indian,  ib.  ;  takes  an  Indian  with  him,  no  ;  his 
ship  leaks,   ib.  ;    reaches  Santa  Cruz,   ib.  ;   coasts 
along   the   south   side   of   Jamaica,    ib    ;    his   ship 
visited  by   a  Cacique  and  his  whole  family,    ib.  : 


INDEX. 


291 


who  offer  to  accompany  him  to  Spain  to  do  homage 
to  the  king  and  queen,  in  ;  he  evades  this  offer, 
ib.  ;  coasts  along  the  south  side  of  Hispaniola, 
ib.  ;  makes  an  error  in  reckoning,  112  ;  arrives  at 
Mona,  ib.  ;  is  suddenly  deprived  of  all  his  facul- 
ties, ib.  ;  arrives  at  Isabella,  ib.  ;  is  joined  by  his 
brother  Bartholomew,  ib.  ;  invests  him  with  the  title 
and  authority  of  Adelantado,  114  ;  is  visited  by 
Guacanagari,  who  informs  him  of  a  league  formed 
against  him  by  the  Haytian  Caciques,  117  ;  his 
measures  to  restore  the  quiet  of  the  island,  ib.  ; 
wins  over  Guarionex,  and  prevails  upon  him  to 
give  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  Diego  Colon,  118  ; 
builds  Fort  Conception  in  the  territories  of  Guario- 
nex, ib. ;  Caonabo  is  delivered  into  his  hands  by 
Ojeda,  ib.  ;  he  puts  him  in  chains,  119  ;  his  interview 
with  him,  ib.  ;  his  anxiety  relieved  by  the  arrival 
of  Antonio  de  Torres,  ib.  ;  sends  home  specimens 
of  gold,  plants,  etc.,  and  five  hundred  Indian  pris- 
oners to  be  sold  as  slaves,  120  ;  undertakes  an  expe- 
dition against  the  Indians  of  the  Vega,  ib.  ;  a  battle 
ensues,  121  ;  the  Indians  defeated,  ib.  ;  makes  a 
military  tour  through  various  parts  of  the  island,  and 
reduces  it  to  obedience,  ib.  ;  imposes  a  tribute,  122  ; 
refuses  the  offer  of  Guarionex  to  cultivate  grain, 
instead  of  paying  in  gold,  ib. ;  erects  forts,  ib.  ;  the 
natives  having  destroyed  the  crops,  are  hunted  and 
compelled  to  return  to  their  labors,  123  ;  account 
of  the  intrigues  against  Columbus  in  the  court  of 
Spain,  124;  charges  brought  against  him,  ib. ;  his 
popularity  declines  in  consequence,  ib,  ;  measures 
taken  in  Spain,  ib.  ;  Aguado  arrives  at  Isabella  to 
collect  information  relative  to  the  state  of  the  col- 
ony,  126  ;  his  dignified  conduct  at  his  first  interview 
with  Aguado,  ib.  ;  the  Caciques  prefer  complaints 
against  him,  127  ;  he  resolves  on  returning  to  Spain, 
ib.  ;  a  violent  hurricane  occurs  previous  to  his  de- 
parture, which  sinks  six  caravels,  ib.  ;  pleased 
with  the  discovery  of  the  gold  mines  of  Hayna,  ib  ; 
orders  a  fort  to  be  erected,  128  ;  invests  his  brother 
with  the  command,  ib.  ;  sails  for  Spain,  ib.  ;  arrives 
at  Guadaloupe,  129  ;  his  politic  conduct  there,  ib.  ; 
leaves  Guadaloupe,  ib.  ;  a  famine  on  board  the  ships 
130  ;  his  magnanimous  conduct,  ib,  ;  arrives  in 
Spain,  ib.  ;  his  representation  of  things,  ib.  ;  writes 
instructions  for  the  conduct  of  Bartholomew,  ib.  ; 
invited  to  court,  131  ;  favorably  received,  ib.  ;  pro- 
poses a  third  voyage  of  discovery,  ib.  ;  the  king 
promises  him  ships,  ib.  ;  delays  and  their  causes, 
ib.  ;  refuses  the  title  of  duke  or  marquess,  and  a 
grant  of  lands  in  Hispaniola,  132  ;  terms  on  which 
he  was  to  sail,  153  ;  honors  bestowed  upon  him,  ib.  ; 
his  respect  and  love  for  Genoa,  ib.  ;  makes  his  will, 
ib.  ;  odium  thrown  upon  his  enterprises,  134  ;  plan 
to  which  he  was  compelled  to  resort  to  procure  men 
for  his  third  voyage,  ib.  ;  in  consequence  of  delays, 
he  almost  resolves  to  give  up  all  further  enterprise, 
ib.  ;  chastises  a  minion  of  Fonseca,  135  ;  consequen- 
ces of  this  chastisement,  ib.  ;  sets  sail,  ib.  ;  his 
opinion  in  respect  to  a  continent  in  the  Southern 
Ocean,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Gomera,  136  ;  retakes  a 
Spanish  ship,  ib.  ;  is  seized  with  a  n't  of  the  gout, 
ib.  ;  arrives  among  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands,  ib.  ; 
sees  the  island  Del  Fuego,  ib.  ;  arrives  tinder  the 
line,  ib.  ;  the  heat  becomes  intolerable,  and  he  alters 
his  course,  ib.  ;  discovers  Trinidad,  137  ;  discovers 
Terra  Firma,  ib.  ;  steers  along  the  coast  of  Trini- 
dad, 138  ;  difficulty  in  respect  to  a  rapid  current, 
ib.  ;  enters  the  Gulf  of  Paria,  ib.  ;  suffers  from  a 
complaint  in  the  eyes,  140  ;  discovers  the  islands  of 
Margarita  and  Cubagua,  141  ;  exchanges  plates, 
etc.,  for  pearls,  ib.  ;  his  complaint  in  the  eyes  in- 
creases, ib.  ;  arrives  at  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  his  brother 
sails  to  meet  him,  ib.  ;  his  constitution  seems  to 
gure  way,  ib.  ;  his  speculations  relative  to  the  coast 
of  Paria,  142  ;  polar  star  augmentation,  ib.  ;  doubts 
the  received  theory  of  the  earth,  ib.  ;  accounts  for 
variation  of  the  needle,  143  ;  difference  of  climate, 
etc.,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  San  Domingo,  156  ;  state  of 
his  health  on  arriving  at  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  state 
of  the  colony,  157  ;  negotiates  with  the  rebels, 


ib.  ;  offers  free  passage  to  all  who  desire  to  return 
to  Spain,  158  ;  offers  a  pardon  to  Roldan,  which  is 
received  with  contempt,   to.  ;    writes  to  Spain   an 
account  of  the  rebellion,  etc.,  and  requires  a  judge 
and  some  missionaries  to  be  sent  out,  ib.  ;  writes  a 
conciliating  letter  to  Roldan,  159  ;  interviews  with 
Roldan,  160  ;  issues  a  proclamation  ol  pardon,  ib,  ; 
receives  proposals,  which  he  accedes  to,  161  ;  goes 
on  a  tour  to  visit  the  various  stations,  ib.  ;  receives 
a  cold  letter  from  the  sovereigns,  written  by  Fonseca, 
ib.  ;  the  former  arrangement  with  Roldan  not  hav- 
ing been  carried  into  effect,   enters  into  a  second, 
162  ;  grants  lands  to   Roldan 's  followers,  ib.  ;  con- 
siders Hispaniola  in  the  light  of  a  conquered  coun- 
try,  163  ;  reduces   the  natives  to  the  condition  cf 
villains  or  vassals,  ib.  ;  grants  lands  to  Roldan,  ib.  ; 
determines  on  returning  to  Spain,  ib.  ;  but  is  pre- 
vented by  circumstances,    ib.  ;  writes  to  the  sover- 
eigns, entreating  them  to  inquire  into  the  truth  of 
the   late    transactions,    ib.  ;    requests    that   his  son 
Diego  might  be  sent  out  to  him,  164  ;  sends  Roldan 
to  Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  who  has  arrived  on  the  west- 
ern coast  on  a  voyage  of   discovery,  ib.  ;  his  indig- 
nation at  the  breach  of  prerogative  implied  by  this 
voyage,   165  ;    hears   of  a  conspiracy  entered  into 
against  him   by  Guevara   and   Moxica,    166  ;  seizes 
Moxica,  168  ;  and  orders  him  to  be  flung  headlong 
from  the  battlements  of  Fort  Conception,  ib.  ;  vigor- 
ous proceedings  against  the  rebels,   ib.  ;  beneficial 
consequences,  ib.  ;    visionary   fancy  at  night,   ib.  ; 
representations  at  court  against  him,  169  ;  his  sons 
insulted  at  Granada,  ib.  ;  the  queen  is  offended  at 
his  pertinacity  in  making  slaves  of  those  taken  in 
warfare,   ib.  ;   and    consents   to   the  sending  out  a 
commission  to  investigate  his  conduct,  170  ;  Boba- 
dilla  is  sent  out,  ib.  ;  and   arrives  at  St.  Domingo, 
171  ;    his  judgment    formed  before  he    leaves  his 
ship,   ib.  ;   he  seizes  upon  the  government   before 
he   investigates   the    conduct    of    Columbus,    172  ; 
Columbus  is  summoned  to  appear  before  Bobadilla, 
173  ;  goes  to  St.  Domingo  without  guards  or  retinue, 
and  is  put  in  irons  and  confined  in  the  fortress,  174  ; 
his  magnanimity,    ib.  ;    charges   against  him,   175  ; 
jubilee  of  miscreants  on  his  degradation,   ib.  ;  his 
colloquy  with  Villejo,    previous    to    their    sailing, 
ib.  ;  sails,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Cadiz,  176  ;  sensation  in 
Spain  on  his  arrival  in  irons,  ib.  ;  sends  a  letter  to 
Donna  Juana  de  la  Torre,  with  an   account  of  his 
treatment,  ib. ;  indignation  of  the  sovereigns  at  read- 
ing this  account,  177  ;  is   invited  to  court,  ib.  ;  his 
gracious  reception  there,   ib.  ;  his  emotion,  ib.  ;  is 
promised  a  full  restitution  of  his  privileges  and  dig- 
nities,   ib.  ;   disappointed    in    receiving  them,    ib.  ; 
causes,  179  ;  his  interests  ordered   to   be   respected 
in    Hispaniola   by    Ovando,    181  ;    remembers   his 
vow  to  furnish  an  army  wherewith   to   recover  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  182  ;  endeavors  to  incite  the  sov- 
ereigns to  the  enterprise,  ib.  ;  forms   the  plan  for 
a   fourth  voyage,    which   is   to   eclipse    all   former 
ones,    183  ;  writes  to   Pope    Alexander  VII.,  184  ; 
manuscript  copy  of,  ib.  ;  takes  measures  to  secure 
his  fame  by  placing  it  under  the  guardianship  of  his 
native  country,  ib.  ;  sails  from  Cadiz,  185  ;  arrives 
at  Ercillo,  ib.  ;  at  the  Grand  Canary,  ib.  ;  at  St.  Do- 
mingo, 1 86  ;  requests  permission  to  shelter  in  the 
harbor,  as  he  apprehends  a  storm,  ib.  ;  his  request 
refused  ;  a  violent  hurricane  soon  after  sweeps  the 
sea,  in  which  he  and  his  property  are  preserved, 
and  several  of  his  bitterest  enemies  overwhelmed, 
ib.  ;    encounters    another    storm,    187  ;     discovers 
Guanaga.  ib.  ;  a  Cacique  comes  on  board  his  ship 
with  a  multitude  of  articles,  the  produce  of  the  coun- 
try, ib.  ;  selects  some  to  send  them  to  Spain,  ib.  ; 
is  within  two  days'  sail  of  Yucatan,   188  ;  natives 
different  from  any  he  had  yet  seen,   ib.  ;    voyages 
along  the  coast  of  Honduras,   ib.  ;  encounters  vio- 
lent storms  of  thunder  and  lightning,   ib.  ;    voyage 
along  the  Mosquito  shore,  189  ;  passes  a  cluster  of 
islands,  to  which  he  gives  the  name  of  Lemionares, 
ib.  ;    comes  to  an  island,   to  which  he    gives  the 
name  of  La  Huerta,  or  the  Garden,  ib.  ;  transac- 


292 


INDEX. 


tlons  at  Cariari,  ib.  ;  voyage  along  Costa  Rica, 
190  ;  speculations  concerning  the  isthmus  of  Vc- 
ragua,  191  ;  discovery  of  Puerto  Bello,  192  ;  discov- 
ery of  El  Retrete,  ib.  ;  disorders  of  his  men  at 
this  port,  and  the  consequences,  ib.  ;  relinquishes 
the  further  prosecution  of  his  voyage  eastward,  193  ; 
returns  to  Puerto  Bello,  ib.  ;  encounters  a  furious 
tempest,  ib.  ;  near  being  drowned  by  a  water-spout, 
194  ;  returns  to  Veragua,  ib  ;  regards  gold  as  one 
of  the  mystic  treasures,  ib. ;  is  nearly  being  wrecked 
in  port,  ib.  ;  gives  his  name  to  the  mountains  of 
Veragua,  195  ;  sends  his  brother  to  explore  the 
country,  ib.  ;  which  appears  to  be  impregnated  with 
gold,  ib.  ;  believes  that  he  has  reached  one  of  the 
most  favored  ports  of  the  Asiatic  continent,  196  ; 
commences  a  settlement  on  the  River  Belen,  ib.  ; 
determines  on  returning  to  Spain  for  reinforce- 
ments, ib.  ;  is  stopped  by  discovering  a  conspiracy 
of  the  natives,  197  ;  sends  his  brother  to  surprise 
Quibian,  ib.  ;  who  is  seized,  ib.  ;  and  afterward 
escapes,  ib.  ;  disasters  at  the  settlement  stop  his  sail- 
ing, 198  ;  some  of  his  prisoners  escape,  and  others 
destroy  themselves,  199  ;  his  anxiety  produces  de- 
lirium, 200  ;  is  comforted  by  a  vision,  ib.  ;  the 
settlement  is  abandoned,  and  the  Spaniards  embark 
for  Spain,  ib.  ;  departure  from  the  coast  of  Veragua, 
201  ;  sails  for  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Puerto 
Bello,  ib.  ;  at  the  entrance  of  the  Gulf  of  Darien, 
ib.  ;  at  the  Queen's  Gardens,  ib.  ;  encounters  an- 
other violent  tempest,  202  ;  arrives  at  Cape  Cruz, 
ib.  ;  at  Jamaica,  ib.  ;  runs  his  ships  on  shore,  ib.  ; 
arranges  with  the  natives  for  supplies  of  provisions, 
ib.  ;  his  conversation  with  Diego  Mendez  to  in- 
duce him  to  go  in  a  canoe  to  St.  Domingo,  ib.  ; 
Mendez  offers  to  go,  ib.  ;  Columbus  writes  to 
Ovando  for  a  ship  to  take  him  and  his  crew  to  His- 
paniola, 203  ;  writes  to  the  sovereigns,  ib.  ;  Men- 
dez embarks,  204  ;  the  Porras  engage  in  a  mutiny, 
205  ;  the  mutiny  becomes  general,  206  ;  is  confined 
by  the  gout,  ib.  ;  rushes  out  to  quell  the  mutiny, 
but  is  borne  back  to  the  cabin  by  the  few  who  remain 
faithful,  ib.  ;  the  mutineers  embark  orf  board  ten 
Indian  canoes,  ib.  ;  provisions  become  exceedingly 
scarce,  207  ;  employs  a  stratagem  to  obtain  supplies 
from  the  natives,  ib.  ;  another  conspiracy  is  formed, 
ib.  ;  arrival  of  Diego  de  Escobar  from  Hispaniola 
on  a  mission  from  the  governor,  promising  that  a 
ship  shall  soon  be  sent  to  his  relief,  ib.  ;  overtures 
of  the  admiral  to  the  mutineers,  21 1  ;  not  accepted, 
ib.  ;  they  send  a  petition  for  pardon,  212  ;  it  is 
granted,  ib.  ;  two  ships  arrive  from  Hispaniola, 
213  ;  departure  of  Columbus,  221  ;  arrives  at 
Beata,  ib.  ;  anchors  in  the  harbor  of  St.  Domingo, 
ib.  ;  is  enthusiastically  received  by  the  people,  ib.  ; 
is  grieved  at  the  desolation  he  sees  everywhere 
around  him,  ib.  ;  finds  that  his  interests  had  been 
disregarded,  222  ;  sets  sail  for  Spain,  ib.  ;  en- 
counters several  tempests,  ib.  ;  anchors  in  the 
harbor  of  St.  Lucar,  ib.  ;  finds  all  his  affairs  in  con- 
fusion, 223  ;  is  compelled  to  live  by  borrowing,  ib.  ; 
writes  to  King  Ferdinand,  ib.  ;  but,  receiving  un- 
satisfactory replies  would  have  set  out  from  Seville, 
but  is  prevented  by  his  infirmities,  ib.  ;  death  of 
Queen  Isabella,  224  ;  is  left  to  the  justice  of  Ferdi- 
nand, 225  ;  employs  Vespucci,  ib.  ;  goes  with  his 
brother  to  court,  then  held  at  Segovia,  ib.  ;  is  re- 
ceived in  a  very  cold  manner,  ib.  ;  Don  Diego  de 
Deza  is  appointed  arbitrator  between  the  king  and 
the  admiral,  226  ;  his  claims  are  referred  to  the 
Junta  de  Descargos,  ib.  ;  is  confined  with  a  violent 
attack  of  the  gout,  ib.  ;  petitions  the  king  that  his 
son  Diego  may  be  appointed  in  his  place,  to  the 
government  of  which  he  had  been  so  long  deprived, 
ib.  ;  his  petition  remains  unattended  to,  ib.  ;  writes 
to  the  new  King  and  Queen  of  Castile,  227  ;  who 
promise  a  speedy  and  prosperous  termination  to 
his  suit,  ib.  ;  his  last  illness,  ib.  ;  writes  a  testa- 
mentary codicil  on  the  blank  page  of  a  little  bre- 
viary, ib.  ;  writes  a  final  codicil,  ib.  ;  receives  the 
sacrament,  228  ;  dies,  ib.  ;  his  burial,  ib.  ;  his  re- 
mains removed  to  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  disinterred  and 


conveyed  to  the  Havana,  ib.  ;  epitaph,  ib.  ;  observa- 
tions on  his  character,  ib.  ;  his  remains  removed 
with  great  ceremony  to  Cuba,  235  ;  reflections 
thereon,  236  ;  historical  account  of  his  descendants, 
ib.  ;  an  important  lawsuit  relative  to  the  heirship 
(in  the  female  line)  to  the  family  titles  and  property, 
240  ;  decided  in  favor  of  Don  Nuno  Gelves  de 
Portugallo,  ib.  ;  an  account  of  his  lineage,  242  ; 
an  account  of  his  birthplace,  243  ;  an  account  of 
the  ships  he  used,  257  ;  an  examination  of  his  route 
in  the  first  voyage,  258  ;  the  effect  of  the  travels  of 
Marco  Polo  on  his  mind,  264  ;  his  belief  in  the 
imaginary  island  of  St.  Brandan,  270  ;  an  account 
of  the  earliest  narratives  of  his  first  and  second  voy- 
ages, 279  ;  his  ideas  relative  to  the  situation  of  the 
terrestrial  paradise,  282  ;  his  will,  283  ;  his  signa- 
ture, 285. 

Columbus,  Don  Diego,  character  of,  92  ;  intrusted 
with  the  command  of  the  ships  during  the  expe- 
dition of  Columbus  to  the  mountains  of  Cibao,  ib.  ; 
made  president  of  the  junta,  101  ;  reproves  Pedro 
Margarite  for  his  irregularities,  115;  the  Hidalgos 
form  a  faction  against  him  during  the  absence  of 
his  brother,  ib. ;  returns  to  Isabella,  126  ;  a  conspiracy 
formed  against  him  by  Roldan,  150  ;  left  in  com- 
mand at  St.  Domingo,  during  the  tour  of  Columbus, 
161  ;  his  conduct  on  the  arrival  of  Bobadilla,  171  ; 
seized  by  order  of  Bobadilla,  thrown  in  irons,  and 
confined  on  board  of  a  caravel.  173. 

,  Don  Diego  (son  to  Christopher),  appointed  page 

to  Queen  Isabella,  134  ;  embarks  with  his  father  on 
his  second  expedition,  184  ;  left  in  charge  of  his 
father's  interests  in  Spain,  ib.  ;  his  ingratitude  to 
Mendez,  and  falsification  of  his  promise,  213  ;  his 
character,  236  ;  succeeds  to  the  rights  of  his  father, 
as  viceroy  and  governor  of  the  New  World,  ib.  ; 
urges  the  king  to  give  him  those  rights,  ib.  ;  com- 
mences a  process  against  the  king  before  the  Council 
of  the  Indies,  ib.  ;  the  defence  set  up,  ib.  ;  the  suit 
lasts  several  years,  ib.  ;  becomes  enamored  of  Dona 
Maria  Toledo,  ib.  ;  a  decision,  in  respect  to  part 
of  his  claim,  raises  him  to  great  wealth,  ib.  ;  mar- 
ries Dona  Maria,  niece  to  the  Duke  of  Alva,  ib.  ; 
through  this  connection  he  obtains  the  dignities  and 
powers  enjoyed  by  Nicolas  de  Ovando,  ib.  ;  em- 
barks for  Hispaniola,  237  ;  keeps  up  great  state, 
ib.  ;  becomes  embroiled  with  some  of  his  father's 
enemies,  ib.  ;  the  court  of  royal  audience  estab- 
lished as  a  check  upon  him,  ib.  ;  opposes  the  re- 
partimientos,  238  ;  his  virtues  make  him  unpop- 
ular, ib.  :  subjugates  and  settles  the  island  of  Cuba 
without  the  loss  of  a  single  man,  ib.  ;  sails  for 
Spain  to  vindicate  his  conduct,  ib.  ;  is  well  re- 
ceived, ib.  ;  the  death  of  Ferdinand,  ib.  ;  obtains 
a  recognition  of  his  innocence  of  all  charges  against 
him  from  Charles  V.,  ib.  ;  and  has  his  right  ac- 
knowledged to  exercise  the  office  cf  viceroy  and 
governor  in  all  places  discovered  by  his  father,  ib.  ; 
sails  for  St.  Domingo,  where  he  arrives,  239  ;  diffi- 
culties he  has  to  encounter,  ib.  ;  African  slaves  hav- 
ing been  introduced  and  most  cruelly  used,  they  re- 
volt, ib.  ;  are  subdued,  ib.  ;  is  accused  of  usurping 
too  much  power,  ib.  ;  receives  in  consequence  a 
severe  letter  from  the  Council  of  the  Indies,  ib.  ; 
and  is  desired  to  repair  to  court  to  vindicate  him- 
self, ib.  ;  sails,  lands,  and  appears  before  the  court 
at  Victoria,  ib.  ;  clears  himself,  ib.  ;  prosecutes 
his  claims,  ib.  ;  follows  the  court  from  city  to  city, 
ib.  ;  is  attacked  by  a  slow  fever,  ib  ;  dies,  ib.  ;  his 
family,  240. 

Columbus,  Fernando  (son  to  Christopher),  accompa- 
nies his  father  on  his  fourth  voyage,  185  ;  his 
father's  encomium  on  him,  225  ;  embarks  for  His- 
paniola with  Don  Diego,  237  ;  an  account  of  him, 
241  ;  writes  a  history  of  his  father,  ib. 

,  Don  Luis   (son  to   Don  Diego),  prosecutes  the 

claims  of  his  father  and  grandfather,  240  ;  compro- 
mises all  claims  for  two  titles  and  a  pension,  ib.  ; 
dies,  ib. 

Commerce,  despotic  influence  of  the  Spanish  crown 
in  respect  to,  75,  181. 


INDEX. 


293 


Compass,  the,  brought  into  more  general  use,  n. 

Conception,  Santa  Maria  de  la,  discovery  of,  44. 

,  Fort,  erected  by  Columbus,  118  ;  present  state 

of,  151. 

Contradictions,  the  coast  of,  194. 

Convicts  who  had  accompanied  Columbus,  conduct 
of,  in  Hispaniola,  180. 

Copper  hatchets  seen  among  the  Indians  of  Guanaca, 
187. 

Coral  found  in  Veragua,  192. 

Cormorants,  large  flights  of,  seen  on  the  south  coast 
of  Cuba.  107. 

Coronel,  Pedro  Fernandez,  sails  for  Hayti  with  two 
ships,  134  ;  arrives  at  St.  Domingo  with  supplies, 
153  ;  is  sent  to  persuade  Roldan  to  return  to  his 
duty,  ib. 

Correo,  Pedro,  a  navigator  of  note,  with  whom  Colum- 
bus becomes  acquainted,  13. 

Cortez,  Hernando,  conduct  of  Fonseca  to,  280. 

Costa  Rica,  Columbus  sails  along  the,  190. 

Cotabanama,  Cacique  of  Higuey,  114  ;  massacres 
eight  Spaniards,  217  ;  Ovando  marches  against  him, 
ib.  ;  sues  for  peace,  ib.  ;  visits  the  Spanish  camp, 

218  ;  another  war  ensues,  ib.  ;  cruelty  to  his  tribe, 

219  ;  takes  shelter  with  his  wife  and  children  in  a 
large  cavern,  ib.  ;  his  rencounter  with  Juan  Lopez, 
ib.  ;  is  overpowered  and  chained,  220  ;  sent  to  St. 
Domingo  and  hanged,  ib. 

Cotton,  where  first  seen  in  the  western  hemisphere, 
43  ;  seen  in  large  quantities  in  Cuba,  49  ;  tribute 
of,  122. 

Cranes,  flocks  of  large,  seen  in  Cuba,  107. 

Creation,  ideas  in  respect  to  the,  entertained  by  the 
Haytians,  96. 

Crocodiles  found  at  El  Retrete  similar  to  those  of  the 
Nile,  192. 

Crosses  erected  by  Columbus  to  denote  his  dis- 
coveries, 109. 

Crusade  to  recover  the  holy  sepulchre  proposed  by 
Columbus,  182. 

Cruz,  Cabo  de  la,  so  named  by  Columbus,  104. 

Cuba,  island  of,  Columbus  hears  of,  46  ;  sails  in 
quest  of  it,  ib.  ;  discovery  of,  ib.  ;  description  of 
its  appearance,  ib.  ;  hurricanes  seldom  known 
in,  47  ;  belief  of  the  inhabitants  in  a  future  state, 
50  ;  Columbus  revisits  the  coasts  of,  104  ;  natives 
of,  105  ;  Columbus  coasts  along  the  southern 
side,  ib.  ;  natives,  ib.  ;  subjugated  and  settled  by 
Don  Diego  Columbus,  238  ;  the  remains  of  Colum- 
bus removed  to,  235. 

Cubagua,  Isle  of,  discovery  of,  141  ;  natives,  ib.  ; 
pearl  fisheries  on  the  coast  of,  established,  238. 

Cubiga,  a  village  in  Veragua  where  the  country  of 
gold  was  supposed  to  terminate,  191. 

Cucumbers  first  seen  in  Hayti,  99. 

Currency,  principles  on  which  the  sums  mentioned  in 
this  work  have  been  reduced  to  modern  currency, 
263. 

D. 

Dances  of  the  Haytians,  97. 

Darien,  Gulf  of,  201. 

Dead  and  dying,  manner  of  treating  the,  by  the  Hay- 
tians, 97. 

Delphin,  island  of,  140. 

Deluge,  universal,  ideas  entertained  by  the  Haytians 
in  respect  to,  97. 

Deza.  Diego  de,  character  of,  26  ;  coincides  with 
Columbus  at  the  council  of  Salamanca,  ib.  ;  assists 
him  with  his  purse,  28  ;  made  Archbishop  of  Seville, 
225  ;  is  chosen  arbitrator  between  the  king  and 
Columbus,  226. 

Diaz,  Bartholomew,  account  of  his  discoveries,  113. 

,  Miguel,  his  romantic  history,  127  ;  discovers  the 

gold  mines  of  Hayna,  170  ;  commands  the  fortress 
of  St.  Domingo  at  the  time  Bobadilla  arrives,  172  ; 
his  conduct  on  being  desired  to  give  up  his 
prisoners,  ib. 

« de  Pisa,  mutiny  of,  91  ;  confined  on  board  one 

of  the  ships,  92. 

Disaster,  river  of,  189. 


Discovery,  progress  of,  under  Prince  Henry  cf  Portu- 
gal, 10. 

Dogs,  dumb,  found  at  Santa  Marta,  105. 

Domingo,  San,  foundation  of  the  city  of,  145. 

Dominica,  island  of,  discovered,  80. 

Doves,  stock,  presented  to  Columbus  by  the  natives 
of  Cuba,  105. 

Drogeo,  a  vast  country,  fabled  to  have  been  discovered 
by  some  fishermen  of  Friseland,  256. 

Drum,  a  species  of,  used  by  the  Haytians,  98. 

Dying,  manner  of  treating  the,  97. 

E. 

Ear,  coast  of  the,  188. 

Eden,  garden  of,  speculation  of  Columbus  in  respect 
to,  282. 

Egg,  anecdote  of  the,  73. 

Egypt,  Soldan  of,  his  message  to  Ferdinand,  28. 

Elmo,  St.,  electrical  lights  seen  by  Columbus,  80. 

Enchanters,  the  natives  of  Cariari  taken  to  be,  190. 

Enriquez,  Beatrix,  her  connection  with  Columbus,  24  ; 
Columbus's  legacy  to,  227. 

Escobar,  Diego  de,  arrives  at  Jamaica  on  a  mission 
to  Columbus  from  the  governor  of  Hispaniola, 
208  ;  returns  to  his  ship  immediately,  ib. 

,  Rodrigo  de,   chief  notary  to   Columbus's  first 

expedition,  34. 

Escobedo,  Rodrigo  de,  his  conduct  after  the  depart- 
ure of  Columbus,  86  ;  death  of,  ib. 

Espinal,  Antonio  de,  the  first  prelate  sent  to  the  New 
World,  181. 

Esquibel,  Juan  de,  employed  against  the  natives  of 
Higuey,  217  ;  his  atrocious  conduct  to  his  prison- 
ers, 219  ;  causes  the  natives  to  be  hunted  like 
wild  beasts,  ib. 

Estotiland,  a  supposed  island  on  the  coast  of  North 
America,  said  to  have  been  discovered  by  some 
fishermen  of  Friseland,  256. 

Eudoxus,  remarks  on  his 'voyage,  257. 

Evangelista,  island  of,  discovered  by  Columbus,  109. 

Exuma,  discovery  of,  45  ;  narrted  Fernandina  by 
Columbus,  ib. 

F. 

Farol,  Cape,  at  Jamaica,  in. 

Ferdinand,  King  of  Aragon  and  Castile,  character  of, 
22  ;  engagements  of,  on  the  arrival  of  Columbus  at 
Cordova,  23  ;  lays  siege  to  the  city  of  Loxa,  ib.  ; 
grants  an  audience  to  Columbus,  24  ;  desires  the 
prior  of  Prado  to  assemble  men  of  science  to  con- 
sider his  plan,  ib.  ;  attempt  to,  assassinate  him,  27  ; 
takes  Malaga,  ib.  ;  forms  an  alliance  with  Henry 
VII.  of  England,  ib.  ;  one  of  the  rival  kings  of 
Granada  surrenders  his  pietensions,  28  ;  receives  a 
message  from  the  Soldan  of  Egypt,  ib.  ;  his  mes- 
sage to  Columbus  on  learning  the  unfavorable  de- 
cision of  the  council,  29  ;  refers  his  plan  to  per- 
sons of  confidence,  30  ;  his  reluctance  to  the  plan 
after  the  queen  has  consented,  32  ;  his  joy  on  learn- 
ing the  success  of  Columbus,  70  ;  his  reception  of 
him,  ib.  ;  prepares  a  second  expedition,  74  ;  his 
negotiations  with  John  II.  in  respect  to  the  new 
discoveries,  76  ;  listens  to  the  charges  against 
Columbus,  124  ;  his  conduct,  ib.  ;  his  reception  of 
Columbus  on  his  second  return,  131  ;  lays  the  foun- 
dation of  the  power  of  Charles  V.,  ib.  ;  promises 
Columbus  to  furnish  him  with  ships  for  a  third  voy- 
age, ib.  ;  disappointed  that  his  newly  discovered 
possessions  have  not  become  a  source  of  profit,  169  ; 
assaulted  by  the  clamors  of  ruffians  who  had  re- 
turned from  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  his  ingratitude  to 
Columbus  becomes  evident,  ib.  ;  listens  to  the 
rebels  who  had  been  permitted  to  return  to  Spain, 
170  ;  sends  out  a  commission  to  inquire  into  the 
conduct  of  Columbus,  ib.  ;  reprobates  the  conduct 
pursued  against  Columbus,  and  invites  him  to  court, 
177  ;  promises  to  restore  him  to  all  his  rights  and 
privileges,  ib.  ;  his  jealousy  awakened  at  the  dis- 
coveries of  the  English  and  Portuguese,  179  ;  his 
ingratitude  to  Columbus,  ib.  ;  listens  to  the  project 


294 


INDEX. 


of  Columbus  for  a  fourth  voyage,  186  ;  his  ingrati- 
tude more  evinced  on  the  return  of  Columbus 
from  his  last  voyage,  224  ;  erects  a  monument 
over  Columbus,  228  ;  his  conduct  to  Don  Diego, 
Columbus's  son,  237  ;  consents  that  Don  Diego 
should  commence  a  process  against  him  before  the 
(  Council  of  the  Indies,  236  ;  the  defence  set  up,  ib.  ; 
separates  the  Isthmus  of  Darien  into  two  great 
provinces,  237  ;  death,  ib. 

Fernandez,  Garcia,  physician  of  Palos,  his  account  of 

Columbus  at  the  gate  of  the  convent  on  his  first 

arrival  in  Spain,  29  ;  testimony  of,  relative  to  Pin- 

zon,  253. 

Ferrer,  Jayme,  an  eminent  lapidary,  substance  of  his 

letter  to  Columbus,  183. 
Festival,  religious,  of  a  Haytian  Cacique,  description 

of,  96. 

Fiesco,    Bartholomew,   embarks  with  Mendez  from 
Jamaica     to     Hispaniola,     204  ;    attends   the   last 
moments  of  Columbus,  228. 
Fish,  curious,  112. 
Fishing,  curious  method  of,  105. 

Fonseca,  Juan  Rodriguez  de,  appointed  superintend- 
ent of  Indian  affairs,  74  ;  his  character,  ib.  ;  his 
difference  with  Columbus,  78  ;  impedes  the  affairs 
of  Columbus,  134  ;  writes  a  cold  letter  to  Colum- 
bus, by  order  of  the  sovereigns,  161  ;  shows 
Columbus's  letter  to  Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  164  ;  his 
baseness  fully  displayed,  165  ;  supposed  to  have  in- 
stigated the  violent  measures  of  Bobadilla,  175  ; 
throws  impediments  in  the  way  of  Columbus's 
fourth  voyage,  184  ;  supposed  to  have  been  the 
cause  of  Ovando's  disgrace,  237  ;  by  order  of  Ferdi- 
nand, establishes  a  court,  called  the  Rcyal  Audi- 
ence, ib.  ;  becomes  interested  in  continuing  the 
slave  trade,  274  ;  his  opposition  to  Las  Casas,  ib.  ; 
an  account  of,  280  ;  character  of,  ib.  ;  his  conduct 
to  Cortez,  ib.  ;  accused  of  having  fomented  a  con- 
spiracy to  assassinate  Cortez,  ib. 
Fountain  of  pure  water  in  the  sea,  210. 
Franciscans,  the  order  first  introduced  into  the  New 

World,  18 1. 
Fuego,  del,  island  of,  seen  by  Columbus,  136. 

G. 

Galleys,  Venetian,  capture  of,  by  Colombo  the 
younger,  246. 

Gama,  Vasquez  de,  doubles  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope, 
and  opens  anew  road  for  the  trade  of  the  East,  12, 
178. 

Garcia,  de  Barrantes,  his  conduct  during  the  con- 
spiracy of  Roldan,  151. 

Gardens,  the,  coast  so  called,  139. 
—  King's,  islands,  50. 

,  Queen's,  islands  of,  104. 

,  the  Hesperian,  observations  in  respect  to,  281. 

Gato,  Paulo,  a  species  of  monkey,  140. 

Genoa,  Columbus  shows  great  respect  to,  133. 

Gentlemen,  the  pass  of,  a  road  so  called,  93. 

Geraldini,  Alexandria  and  Antonio,  warmly  enter  into 
the  views  of  Columbus,  24  ;  they  introduce  him  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  ib. 

Gold  (Western),  discovered  first  in  St.  Salvador,  43  ; 
specimens  of  virgin  ore  found  in  the  interior  of  His- 
paniola, 90  ;  particles  found  in  the  streams,  94  ; 
and  pieces,  95. 

,  tribute  of,  122. 

mine  discovered  in  Hayti,  127  ;  a  solid  mass  of, 

which  weighed  3600  castellanos,  186  ;  superstitious 
notions  in  respect  to.  194  ;  gathered  from  the  roots 
of  the  trees  in  Veragua,  195. 

Golden  River,  arrival  at,  in  second  voyage,  84,  94. 

Gods  of  the  Haytians,  96. 

Gomara,  Fernando  Lopez  de,  examination  of  his 
charge  relative  to  a  pilot's  having  died  in  the  house 
of  Columbus,  253. 

Gorvalan  explores  part  of  the  interior  of  Hispaniola, 
90  ;  returns  to  Spain,  ib. 

Gourds  introduced  into  Hayti,  99. 

Gracias  a  Dios,  cape  of,  189. 


Granada,  discovery  of,  141. 

Grape-vines,  very  luxuriant,  found  in  Cuba,  107. 

Greenland,  assertions  relative  to  its  discovery  by  the 
Scandinavians,  255. 

Granada,  surrender  of,  30. 

Guadaloupe,  island  of,  discovered,  80  ;  houses,  fur- 
niture, etc.,  of  the  natives,  81  ;  supposed  to  be 
cannibals,  ib.  :  description  of  the  island,  ib. ; 
Columbus  revisits  it,  129  ;  women  of,  ib. 

Guacanagari,  Cacique  of  Hispaniola,  sends  a  message 
to  Columbus,  56  ;  receives  the  Spaniards  with 
great  courtesy,  ib.  ;  sheds  tears  on  learning  the 
shipwreck  of  Columbus,  57  ;  his  -assistance,  ib.  ; 
and  kindness,  ib.  ;  invites  Columbus  to  his  resi- 
dence, 58  ;  manners  of,  ib.  ;  hospitality,  60  ; 
procures  a  great  quantity  of  gold  for  the  admiral 
previous  to  his  departure  for  Spain,  ib.  ;  sends  his 
cousin  to  greet  Columbus  on  his  second  arrival,  84  ; 
his  suspicious  conduct  during  the  disaster  at  La 
Navidad,  86  ;  visits  Columbus's  ships,  87  ;  ad- 
mires a  captive  Carib  woman,  ib.  ;  his  flight 
into  the  interior,  88  ;  his  mysterious  conduct  con- 
tinued, 102  ;  refuses  to  partake  in  the  plan  formed 
by  Caonabo,  of  exterminating  the  Spaniards,  117  ; 
incurs  the  hostility  of  his  fellow  Caciques,  ib.  ; 
visits  Columbus  during  his  sickness,  and  informs 
him  of  a  league  formed  against  him,  ib.  ;  assists 
Columbus  in  his  expedition  against  the  Indians  of  the 
Vega,  121  ;  is  present  at  a  battle,  122  ;  incurs  the 
hatred  of  all  the  Caciques,  ib.  ;  is  nevertheless  com- 
pelled to  pay  tribute,  123;  takes  refuge  in  the  moun- 
tains and  dies  in  misery,  124  ;  his  character,  ib. 

Guana,  regarded  with  disgust  by  the  Spaniards,  102  ; 
they  conquer  their  prejudice,  146. 

Guanaja,  discovery  of,  83. 

Guaora,  Cacique,  hunted  like  a  wild  beast,  and  after- 
ward hanged,  217. 

Guarionex,  Cacique  of  the  royal  Vega,  114  ;  visits 
Columbus,  and  is  prevailed  on  to  give  his  daughter 
to  Diego  Colon,  the  interpreter,  118;  permits  Colum- 
bus to  build  a  fortress,  ib.  ;  character  of,  122  ;  sub- 
mits to  the  domination  of  the  Spaniards,  ib.  ;  com- 
pelled to  pay  tribute,  ib.  ;  offers  to  cultivate  grain, 
ib.  ;  refused,  ib.  ;  learns  the  Pater-nosier,  Ave- 
Maria,  etc.,  147  ;  relapses,  and  the  cause  of  it,  ib.  ; 
becomes  incensed  at  several  Indians  being  burnt 
for  destroying  some  images,  Ib.  ;  takes  arms,  ib.  ; 
conspires  to  assassinate  the  Spaniards,  ib.  ;  is 
seized,  148  ;  is  pardoned,  ib.  ;  enters  into  a  con- 
spiracy with  Roldan  against  the  Adelantado,  153  ; 
puts  a  Cacique  to  death,  154  ;  flies  to  the  mountains 
of  Ciguay,  ib.  ;  is  compelled  to  retire  into  the  most 
desolate  places,  ib.  ;  is  seized  and  taken  in  chains 
to  Fort  Conception,  155  ;  lost  in  a  hurricane,  187. 

Guatiquana,  a  Cacique  of  Hayti,  puts  ten  Spaniards 
to  death,  and  sets  fire  to  a  house,  116. 

Guevara,  Don  Hernando  de,  falls  in  love  with 
Higuamota,  167  ;  is  seized  in  the  dwelling  of 
Anacaona,  ib.  ;  and  sent  to  San  Domingo,  ib. 

Gulf  Stream,  141. 

Gutierrez,  Pedro,  his  conduct  after  the  departure  of 
Columbus,  85  ;  death  of,  ib. 

H. 

Hamacs,  used  by  the  natives  of  Exuma,  45. 

Hanno,  remarks  on  the  Periplus  of,  257. 

Haro,  Bernaldo  de,  his  evidence  relative  to  the  dis- 
covery of  the  coast  of  Paria  by  Columbus,  250. 

Hatchets  of  iron,  said  to  be  found  at  Guadaloupe,  129. 

Hawk's  bells,  delight  of  the  Haytians  on  wearing, 
57,  58. 

Hayna,  mines  of,  discovered,  127. 

Henry,  Prince  of  Portugal,  progress  of  discovery 
under,  10  ;  account  of,  ib.  :  considers  Africa  to  be 
circumnavigable,  ib.  ;  conceives  the  idea  of  turning 
the  trade  of  the  East,  n  ;  establishes  a  naval  college 
at  Sagres,  ib.  ;  death,  12. 

Henry  VII.  of  England,  writes  a  favorable  letter  to 
Columbus,  27. 

Herbs,  European,  introduced  in  Hispaniola,  99. 


INDEX. 


295 


Herrera,  Antonio  de,  a  short  account  of  his  life  and 
writings,  279  ;  Vossius'  eulogium  on,  ib. 

Herrera,  Don  Lepo  de,  his  mission  to  the  court  of 
Lisbon,  76. 

Hayti  (see  Hispaniola),  discovery  of,  51. 

Haytians,  description  of  their  manners,  customs,  re- 
ligion, etc.,  96  ;  their  character,  98  ;  defeated  in 
the  battle  of  the  Vega,  121  ;  subjugated,  122  ; 
a  tribute  imposed  upon  them,  ib.  ;  their  despair, 
ib.  ;  they  enter  into  an  association  to  destroy 
the  crops,  172  ;  the  evils  fall  upon  themselves, 
ib. 

Hidalgos,  compelled  at  Hayti  to  share  the  common 
labors  of  ihe  settlement,  99  ;  character  of  the,  100  ; 
form  a  faction  against  Diego  Columbus,  during  the 
absence  of  his  brother,  115. 

Higuamota,  daughter  of  Caonabo,  falls  in  love  with 
Don  Hernando  de  Guevara,  167. 

Higuanama,  a  female  Cacique,  hanged  by  order  of 
Ovando,  217. 

Higuey,  domain  of,  114  ;  character  of  its  inhabitants, 
ib.  ;  Ovando's  war  with  the  natives,  217  ;  martial 
character  of  the  people,  ib.  ;  multitudes  of  them 
destroyed,  ib.  ;  sue  for  peace,  ib.  ;  again  revolt, 
218  ;  and  slaughter  their  tyrants,  ib.  ;  situation  of 
their  towns,  ib.  ;  are  defeated  and  compelled  to 
conceal  themselves  in  the  fastnesses,  ib.  ;  are 
hunted  like  wild  beasts.  219. 

Hipparchus,  error  of,  in  respect  of  Africa  and  India, 

257- 

Hispaniola,  discovery  of,  51  ;  cause  of  its  being  so 
called,  52  ;  description  of  the  inhabitants,  ib.  ;  of 
the  country,  55  ;  transactions  with  the  natives,  57  ; 
form  of  government,  58  ;  alarm  created  by  a  dis- 
charge of  cannon,  ib.  ;  general  description  of,  95,  96; 
domains  into  which  it  was  divided,  114  ;  made  the 
metropolis  of  the  New  World,  ib.  ;  thought  to  have 
been  the  ancient  Ophir,  128  ;  an  account  of  the 
numbers  of  the  natives  who  perished,  victims  to 
the  avarice  of  the  whites,  215  ;  ceded  to  the  French, 

235- 

Honduras,  Cape  of,  discovered  by  Columbus,  iSS  ; 
inhabitants,  ib. 

Honey  and  wax  found  at  Guadaloupe,  82,  129. 

Horses,  fear  of  the  Haytians  of,  99,  101  ;  terror  in- 
spired by  them  at  the  battle  of  the  Vega,  121  ;  a  re- 
markable one  which  moved  in  curvets  to  the  music 
of  a  viol,  216. 

Huelva,  Alonzo  Sanchez  de,  the  pilot,  fabled  to  have 
died  in  the  house  of  Columbus,  253. 

Huerta,  La,  delightful  island  of,  189  ;  inhabitants  of, 
ib. 

Humboldt,  his  account  of  the  present  condition  of  the 
southern  side  of  Cuba,  106  ;  account  of  the  route  of 
Columbus,  263. 

Hurricanes,  seldom  known  in  Cuba,  47  ;  a  violent 
one  in  Hayti,  127  ;  reflections  of  the  Haytians  pre- 
vious to  it,  ib. 

i 
I. 

Iceland,  Columbus  supposed  to  have  visited,  19  ; 
assertions  relative  to  its  discovery  by  the  Scandi- 
navians, 255. 

Impressment  resorted  to  on  Columbus's  third  voy- 
age, 133. 

Indians,  six  taken  from  the  New  World  ;  arrival  of  in 
Spain,  67  ;  are  baptized,  75  ;  an  Indian  of 
Jamaica  desires  Columbus  to  take  him  to  Spain, 
104. 

Iron,  a  pan  of,  seen  at  Guadaloupe,  81. 

Isabella,  discovery  of  the  island  of,  89. 

,  Princess,  marriage  of,  with  the  heir-apparent  of 

Portugal,  28. 

• ,  Queen  of  Arragon  and  Castile,  character  of,  23  ; 

engagements  of,  on  the  arrival  of  Columbus  in  Spain, 
ib.  ;  repairs  to  the  seat  of  war  in  Granada,  ib.  ; 
thence  to  Gallicia  and  Salamanca,  24  ;  an  at- 
tempt to  assassinate  her,  27  ;  Columbus  recom- 
mended to  her  by  the  Marchioness  of  Moya,  ib.  ; 
her  ability  in  military  affairs,  28  ;  receives  a  letter 


from  the  prior  of  La  Rabida,  29  ;  invites  Colum- 
bus to  court,  30  ;  Luis  de  St.  Angel  reasons  with 
her,  31  ;  signifies  her  assent,  ib.  ;  declares  her 
resolution  to  pawn  her  jewels  to  defray  the  ex- 
penses, ib.  ;  her  enthusiasm  in  the  cause,  ib.  ;  her 
motives,  32  ;  her  joy  at  learning  the  success  of 
Columbus,  71  ;  her  reception  of  him,  72  ;  her 
zeal  for  the  welfare  of  the  Indians,  75  ;  her  anxiety 
in  respect  to  the  conversion  of  the  Haytians,  125  ; 
humanely  prevents  the  Haytian  slaves  from  being 
sold  to  slavery,  ib.  ;  orders  them  to  be  sent  back  to 
Hayti,  ib.  ;  enters  into  the  views  of  Columbus  in  re- 
spect to  a  third  voyage,  132;  her  humane  directions, 
133  ;  death  of  her  son,  Prince  Juan,  134  ;  makes 
Columbus's  two  sons  her  pages,  ib.  ;  begins  to 
doubt  the  conduct  of  Columbus,  169  ;  offended  at 
his  pertinacity  in  making  slaves  of  the  Indians 
taken  in  war,  170  ;  orders  all  those  sent  to  Spain  to 
be  restored  to  their  country  and  friends,  ib.  ;  con- 
sents to  the  sending  out  a  commission  to  investigate 
his  conduct,  ib.  ;  filled  with  sympathy  and  indig- 
nation on  reading  Columbus's  letter  to  Dona  de  la 
Torre,  176  ;  invites  him  to  court,  177  ;  is  moved  to 
tears  at  beholding  him,  ib.  ;  her  concern  for  the 
welfare  of  the  Indians,  181  ;  listens  with  com- 
placency to  the  proposition  of  Columbus  for  a  fourth 
voyage,  183  ;  receives  the  news  of  the  sanguinary 
acts  of  Ovando  with  horror  and  indignation,  222  ; 
exacts  a  promise  from  the  king  that  he  shall  be 
superseded  in  the  government,  ib.  ;  causes  of  the 
melancholy  under  which  she  labored,  224  ;  her 
death,  ib.  ;  and  character,  ib. 

J- 

Jamaica  discovered  by  Columbus,  103  ;  the  natives 
receive  Columbus  in  a  hostile  manner,  103  ;  Colum- 
bus takes  possession  of  it,  ib.  ;  amicable  inter- 
course with  the  natives,  ib.  ;  their  character,  ib.  ; 
their  canoes,  ib.  ;  subjugated  by  Don  Diego,  238. 

,  Cacique  of,  visits  Columbus,  and  offers  to  go 

and  do  homage  to  the  king  and  queen  of  Spain,  in  ; 
this  offer  evaded  by  Columbus,  ib. 

Japan  (Cipango),  Marco  Polo's  account  of  it.  268. 

jasper,  specimens  found  among  the  mountains  of 
Cibao,  94. 

Jerez.  Rodrigo  de,  sent  up  the  island  of  Cuba  by 
Columbus,  48  ;  account  of  his  journey,  49. 

Jews  not  allowed  to  establish  themselves  in  the  colo- 
nies, or  undertake  voyages  of  discovery,  181. 

John  of  Anjou,  an  account  of  his  expedition  against 
Naples,  246. 

II.,  King  of  Portugal,  the  passion  for  maritime 

discovery  revives  under,  19  ;  sends  missions  in  quest 
of  Prester-John,  ib.  ;  receives  a  proposition  of  a 
voyage  of  discovery  from  Columbus,  20  ;  refers  it 
to  a  junto  and  his  council,  who  report  it  to  be  vision- 
ary, ib.  ;  consents  to  use  an  unwarrantable  strata- 
gem, 21  ;  desires  to  renew  the  negotiation  with 
Columbus,  ib. ;  who  refuses,  and  quits  Portugal,  ib. ; 
invites  Columbus  to  Portugal,  and  promises  protec- 
tion, 27  ;  invites  Columbus  on  his  return  from  the 
New  World,  68  ;  his  jealousy  excited,  ib.  ;  his 
armament,  76  ;  his  negotiations  with  Ferdinand  in 
respect  to  the  new  discoveries,  ib.  ;  his  idea  in  re- 
spect to  a  continent  in  the  southern  ocean,  ib. 

Josephus,  his  opinion  relative  to  the  gold  used  in  the 
Temple  of  Jerusalem,  196. 

Juan,  Prince,  his  nuptials,  132  ;  his  death,  134- 

Juana,  Queen  of  Castile,  arrival  of,  227  ;  promises  a 
prosperous  termination  to  the  suit  of  Columbus,  ib. 

Junta  de  Descargos,  the  claims  of  Columbus  referred 
to  the,  226. 

K. 

Kings,  Moorish,  of  Granada,  one  of  them  surrenders 
his  pretensions  to  Ferdinand,  28  ;  the  other  sur- 
renders Granada.  30. 

Kircher,  Athanasius,  his  opinion  relative  to  the  trav- 
els of  Marco  Polo,  267. 


296 


INDEX. 


L. 

Labrador,  discovered  by  Sebastian  Cabot,  178. 

Lactantius,  passage  quoted  from,  to  prove  the  impos- 
sibility of  there  being  antipodes,  25. 

Lapis  lazuli,  specimens  found  among  the  moun- 
tains of  Cibao,  94. 

Ledesma,  Pedro,  his  gallant  conduct,  199  ;  involves 
himself  in  Porras's  mutiny,  and  receives  a  multi- 
tude of  wounds,  212  ;  is  assassinated,  ib. 

Lepe,  Diego  de,  discovers  more  of  the  southern  con- 
tinent than  any  voyager  of  his  day,  178. 

Lineage  of  Christopher  Columbus,  an  account  of,  242. 

Lombards,  the  extent  of  their  trade,  n. 

Lopez,  Juan,  his  rencontre  with  Cotabanama,  219. 

Lots  for  pilgrimages,  drawing  of,  65. 

Luxan,  Juan  de,  his  excursion  among  the  mountains 
of  Cibao,  95. 

M. 

Macham,  his  discovery  of  Madeira,  10  ;  an  account 
of  his  adventures,  273. 

Madeira,  an  account  of  the  discovery  of  the  island  of, 
272. 

Magellan,  electrical  lights  seen  during  his  voyage  on 
the  masts  of  ships,  80. 

Maguana,  domain  of,  an  account  of,  114. 

Mahogany,  canoes  made  of,  103. 

Maize,  cultivated  in  Hayti,  98. 

Maladies  of  the  Spaniards  in  Hayti,  89,  99. 

Malaga,  siege  and  capture  of,  27. 

Maldonado,  Don  Alonzo,  appointed  Alguazil-mayor  in 
the  place  of  Roldan,  in  Hispaniola,  181. 

,  Melchor,  visits  Guacanagari,  86  ;  proceeds 

along  the  coast,  88. 

Malte-Brun,  his  conjecture  relative  to  Columbus  con- 
sidered, 257. 

Man.  origin  of,  according  to  the  Haytians.  97. 

Manicaotex,  succeeds  Caonabo,  120  ;  commands  in  a 
battle,  121  ;  is  conquered  and  sues  for  peace,  122  ; 
compelled  to  pay  half  a  calabash  of  gold  every  three 
months,  ib.  ;  assembly  of  the  Caciques  at  his  house 
to  prefer  complaints  against  Columbus,  127. 

Mandeville,  Sir  John,  a  short  account  of  his  travels, 
268  ;  held  in  great  authority  by  Columbus,  269. 

Mangon,  a  province  of  Cuba,  105. 

Map,  Paulo  Toscanelli's,  used  by  Columbus  on  his 
first  voyage,  16. 

Maps,  a  great  improvement  made  in,  12. 

Marble,  masses  of,  found  among  the  mountains  of 
Cibao,  94. 

Marcolini,  his  account  of  Estotiland  and  Drogeo,  256. 

Margarita,  island  of,  discovery  of,  141. 

of  Austria,  her  nuptials  with  Prince  Juan,  132. 

Margarite,  Pedro,  recommended  to  a  command  by 
Columbus.  90  ;  made  commander  of  the  fortress 
of  St.  Thomas,  95  ;  sends  an  account  of  the  con- 
duct of  his  colony,  etc.,  99  ;  is  invested  with  the 
command  of  the  forces,  100  ;  disregards  his  in- 
structions, 101  ;  his  misconduct  during  the  absence 
of  Columbus,  114  ;  is  censured  by  Diego  Colum- 
bus, 115  ;  forms  a  plan  of  returning  to  Spain,  ib.  ; 
sets  sail,  ib.  ;  his  accusations  of  Columbus  at  Ma- 
drid, 124. 

Marque,  Diego,  missed  at  Guadaloupe,  81  ;  his  re- 
turn, 82  ;  is  placed  under  arrest,  ib. 

Maria,  Santa,  discovery  of,  82. 

Marien,  domain,  account  of,  114. 

Martin  V.,  Pope,  concedes  to  the  crown  of  Portugal 
all  the  lands  it  might  discover  from  Cape  Bajador 
to  the  Indies,  74. 

Marta,  Santa,  discovery  of,  105. 

Martin,  San,  island  of,  discovered,  82. 

Martyr,  Peter,  his  account  of  Cuba,  50 ;  his  descrip- 
tion of  the  natives  of  Hispaniola,  55  ;  sent  to  the 
Soldan  of  Egypt  to  make  arrangements  for  the  con- 
servation of  the  holy  sepulchre,  184  ;  short  account 
of  his  life  and  writings,  276  ;  passages  from  his  let- 
ters relative  to  Columbus,  ib.  ;  his  character  of 
Amerigo  Vespucci,  247. 


Marigalante,  island  of,  discovery  of,  80. 

Mateo,   Juan,   a  Haytian  converted  to    Christianity, 

147. 

Mauro,  constructs  a  celebrated  map,  13. 

Mayobanex,  Cacique  of  the  Ciguayans,  63  ;  Guario- 
nex  flies  to  him  for  refuge,  154  ;  his  answer  to  the 
Adelantado,  when  desired  to  give  up  Guarionex, 
ib.  ;  is  deserted  in  his  need,  155;  compelled  to  fly, 
ib.  ;  is  seized  with  his  wife  and  children,  ib. 

Medina  Celi,  Duke  of,  entertains  Columbus,  22  ; 
application  of  Columbus  to,  ib.  ;  writes  to  the 
queen,  ib. 

,  Sidonia,  Duke  of,  application  of  Columbus  to, 

22  ;  plan  rejected,  ib. 

Melons  introduced  into  Hayti,  99. 

Mendez,  Diego,   his  bold  conduct  at  Veragua,    196, 
198  ;  his  reward,  201  ;  his  meritorious  conduct  at 
Jamaica,  203  ;  his  conversation  with  Columbus,  ib. 
undertakes  to  go  in  a  canoe  to  St.   Domingo,  ib. 
departs  with  one   Spaniard  and  six    Indians,   ib. 
narrowly  escapes  being  murdered  by  the  Indians 
of  the  coast,  and  returns,  204  ;  account  of  his  voy- 
age, 209  ;  sails  for  Spain,  213  ;  his  subsequent  his- 
tory, ib. 

Mendoza,  Pedro  Gonzalez  de.  See  Toledo,  Arch- 
bishop of. 

Meneses,  Don  Pedro  de,  his  answer  to  the  Bishop  of 
Ceuta  in  respect  to  the  propriety  of  maritime  dis- 
coveries, 20. 

Mermaids,  three  supposed,  seen  by  Columbus,  62. 

Mexiatrillo,  Rodrigo,  commands  the  soldiery  at  the 
massacre  of  Xaragua,  216. 

Misa,  Rio  de  la,  so  called  from  mass  performed  on  its 
banks,  no. 

Monis  de  Palestrello,  Dona  Felipa,  her  marriage  with 
Columbus,  12. 

Monte  Christi,  description  of,  88  ;  Columbus  founds 
the  city  of  Isabella,  ib. 

Montserrat,  discovery  of,  82. 

Moors,  war  against  the,  23. 

,  none  permitted  to  establish  themselves  in  the 

colonies  or  go  on  voyages  of  discovery,  281. 

Morales,  Caspar,  expedition  of,  to  the  Pacific,  59. 

,  Francisco,  his  evidence  relative  to  the  discovery 

of  the  coast  of  Paria  by  Columbus,  250. 

Mother-of-pearl  found  on  the  coast  of  Paria,  139. 

Moxica,  Adrian  de,  conspiracy  of,  166  ;  meditates  the 
death  of  the  admiral  and  of  Roldan,  ib.  ;  is  seized, 
168  ;  and  flung  headlong  from  the  battlements  of 
Fort  Conception,  ib. 

Moya,  Marchioness  of,  becomes  a  friend  to  Colum- 
bus, 27  ;  and  recommends  his  suit  to  the  queen,  ib.  ; 
also,  30,  31. 

Mulatas,  islands  of,  discovered,  201. 

Mules,  the  employment  of,  under  the  saddle  pro- 
hibited in  Spain,  225. 

Music  of  the  Haytians.  98. 

Musicians  sent  to  Hayti  to^enliven  the  spirits  of  the 
colony,  134. 

N. 

Names,  exchanging,  an  Indian  league  of  fraternity, 
218. 

Navarrete,  his  opinion  relative  to  the  island  first  dis- 
covered by  Columbus,  259. 

Navasa,  island  of,  210  ;  fountain  near,  ib. 

Navidad,  La,  or  the  Nativity,  construction  of  the 
fortress  of,  60  ;  disasters  at  the  fortress,  84 ;  aban- 
doned by  Columbus,  88. 

Needle,  variation  of  the,  first  noticed,  29  ;  inclines  a 
whole  point,  14.2  ;  Columbus's  speculation  in  re- 
spect to,  143. 

Negroes  of  Africa  introduced  into  Hispaniola,  239  ; 
their  first  revolt,  ib. 

Negotiations,  diplomatic,  between  the  courts  of  Spain 
and  Portugal,  with  respect  to  the  new  discoveries, 
76. 

Newfoundland,  assertions  relative  to  the  discovery  of, 
by  the  Scandinavians,  255. 

Nicholas,  St.,  harbor  of,  52. 


INDEX. 


297 


Nicuesa,  Diego  de,  appointed  governor  of  Golden 
Castile,  238. 

Nino,  Pedro  Alonzo,  sails  for  Hayti,  130  ;  undertakes 
a  voyage  of  discovery,  and  returns  from  the  pearl 
coast  after  a  lucrative  voyage,  ib.  ;  arrives  at  Cadiz 
from  Hispaniola,  with  a  number  of  Indian  pris- 
oners, 132. 

Noya,  Juan  de,  his  escape  by  diving,  199. 

O. 

Ocean,  line  of  demarkation  of  the,  between  Spain  and 
Portugal,  79. 

Oderigo,  documents  in  the  possession  of  the  family 
of,  relative  to  Columbus,  185. 

Ojeda,  Don  Alonzo  de,  goes  in  search  of  Diego 
Marque,  at  Guadaloupe,  82  ;  his  expedition  to  ex- 
plore the  interior  of  Hispaniola,  89  ;  sallies  from 
Isabella,  101  ;  character  of,  ib.  ;  his  conduct  in  re- 
spect to  some  Haytian  thieves,  ib.  ;  character  of, 
116  ;  is  besieged  by  Caonabo,  ib. ;  anecdote  of,  ib.  ; 
undertakes  to  seize  Caonabo,  and  deliver  him  alive 
into  the  hands  of  Columbus,  118  ;  visits  him,  ib.  ; 
offers  him  the  bell  of  Isabella,  ib. ;  his  stratagem  to 
take  him  off,  ib.;  conquers  in  an  engagement  with  a 
brother  of  Caonabo,  119;  his  conduct  at  the  battle 
of  the  Vega,  121  ;  arrives  at  the  western  part  of 
Hispaniola  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  164  ;  cause 
of  his  voyage,  165  ;  his  manoeuvres  with  Roldan, 
166  ;  leaves  the  island  with  a  threat,  ib.  ;  returns 
to  Spain  with  a  drove  of  slaves,  ib.  ;  appointed 
governor  of  New  Andalusia,  238  ;  fails  in  his  un- 
dertaking to  colonize  that  country,  ib.  ;  his  evidence 
relative  to  the  discovery  of  the  coast  of  Paria  by 
Columbus,  250. 

Oro,  Rio  del.  or  Santiago,  discovered,  62. 

Otto,  Mons.,  remarks  on  his  letter  to  Dr.  Franklin 
relative  to  Martin  Behem,  255. 

Ovando,  Don  Nicholas  de,  chosen  to  supersede 
Bobadilla,  179;  character  of ,  ib.  ;  great  privileges 
granted  to,  ib.  ;  his  fleet,  181  ;  allowed  to  wear 
silk,  precious  stones,  etc.,  ib.  ;  sails,  ib.  ;  reaches 
St.  Domingo  and  assumes  the  government,  186  ; 
refuses  to  let  Columbus  take  shelter,  ib.  ;  his  mys- 
terious conduct  to  Columbus  in  his  distress  at 
Jamaica,  210  ;  an  account  of  his  administration 
and  oppression,  213  ;  sufferings  of  the  natives 
under  the  civil  policy  of,  ib.  ;  view  of  the  military 
operations  of,  215  ;  visits  Anacaona,  215  ;  takes  it 
into  his  head  that  she  intends  to  massacre  him  and 
all  his  attendants,  216  ;  seizes  Anacaona  and  burns 
all  the  Caciques,  ib.  ;  massacres  the  populace, 
ib.  ;  and  causes  Anacaona  to  be  ignominiously 
hanged,  217  ;  his  further  atrocious  conduct  to  the 
unfortunate  Indians,  ib.  ;  founds  Santa  Maria  in 
commemoration  of  his  atrocities,  ib.  ;  wages  war 
against  the  natives  of  Higuey,  ib.  ;  causes  many  of 
them  to  be  slaughtered  and  their  chieftains  to  be 
burnt,  ib.  ;  hangs  a  female  Cacique  of  distinction, 
ib.  ;  causes  600  Indians  of  Saona  to  be  imprisoned 
in  one  dwelling  and  put  to  the  sword,  ib.  ;  receives 
Columbus  on  his  arrival  at  St.  Domingo  with  an 
hypocritical  politeness,  221. 

Oviedo,  Gonzalo  Fernandez  de,  a  short  account  of  his 
life  and  writings,  278. 

Oysters,  in  the  Gulf  of  Paria,  round  the  roots  of  the 
mangrove  trees,  139. 

Ozema,  river  of,  and  the  country  through  which  it 
flows,  144. 

P. 

Palos,  the  port,  whence  Columbus  sailed  on  his  first 
expedition,  33  ;  present  state  of,  70. 

Palms,  Cape  of,  discovered,  48. 

Pane,  Roman,  labors  to  convert  the  Haytians,  147. 

Paradise,  observations  on  the  situation  of  the  terres- 
trial, 281  ;  of  the  Haytians,  97. 

Paria,  Gulf  of,  Columbus's  voyage  through  the,  138  ; 
description  of  the  coast  of,  137  ;  manners  of  the 
natives,  ib.  ;  current  of  the  sea,  143. 


Parrots,  first  seen   in  the  western   hemisphere,   43  ; 

large   flights  of  seen,  45  ;    found  on  the  coast  of 

Paria,  139. 

Partition,  papal  bull  of,  73  ;  line  of  removed,  79. 
Passamonte,    Miguel,    becomes    an    enemy  to  Don 

Diego  Columbus,  237. 
Pearls,  the  Gulf  of,  140. 

of  Cubagua,  139,  141. 

Pedrarias.     See  Davila. 

Pepper,  Agi,  64. 

Perez,   Alonzo,  discovers  land  iu  Columbus's  third 

voyage,  137. 
,  Fray  Juan,  prior  of  the  convent  of  La  Rabida, 

entertains  Columbus  on  his  first  entry  into  Spain, 

29  ;  gives  him  letters  of  introduction  to  the  queen's 
confessor,  and  educates  his  son,  ib.  ;    reception  of 
Columbus,  ib.  ;  writes  to  Queen  Isabella,  ib.  ;   in- 
vited to  court,  ib.  ;  pleads  the  cause  of  Columbus, 

30  ;  receives  a  visit  from  Columbus  after  his  suc- 
cess, 33. 

Philip,  King  of  Castile,  listens  to  the  request  of 
Columbus,  and  promises  a  prosperous  termination 
to  his  suit,  227. 

Pigeons,  wood,  vast  numbers  seen  on  the  south  side 
of  Cuba,  107. 

Pilgrimages,  lots  for,  drawing  of,  65,  67. 

Pilot,  observations  on  the  rumor  of  a  pilot  having  died 
in  the  house  of  Columbus,  251. 

Pineapple  first  met  with,  81. 

Pines,  island  of,  discovered  by  Columbus,  108. 

Pinos,  Isla  de,  discovery  of,  187. 

Pinta,  desertion  of,  51. 

Pinzons,  family  of,  they  enable  Columbus  to  offer  to 
bear  one  eighth  of  the  charge  of  the  expedition,  and 
to  add  a  third  ship  to  the  armament,  32  ;  their 
activity  and  interest  in  the  voyage,  33  ;  furnish 
Columbus  with  money  to  defray  the  eighth  share  of 
the  expense,  ib.  ;  account  of  their  family,  70, 
note. 

Pinzon,  Martin  Alonzo,  offers  to  bear  the  expenses  of 
Columbus  in  a  renewed  application  to  the  court, 
29  ;  his  opinion  relative  to  the  nearness  of  land, 
40  ;  begins  to  lose  confidence  in  the  course  they 
are  pursuing,  ib.  ;  crediting  the  accounts  of  the 
Indians  in  respect  to  a  very  rich  island,  deserts 
and  goes  in  search  of  it,  51  ;  Columbus  meets  him, 
62  ;  his  apology,  ib.  ;  account  of  his  proceedings, 
ib.  ;  his  duplicity  becomes  more  evident,  ib.  ;  his 
arrival  at  Palos,  69  ;  effect  of  his  treacherous  con- 
duct, ib.  ;  his  death,  70  ;  reflections  on,  ib.  ;  ob- 
servations relative  to  the  supposed  idea  of  Colum- 
bus owing  to  him  the  success  of  his  great  enter- 
prise, 252  ;  his  character,  253. 

,  Vicente  Yafies,  obtains  a  license  for  voyages  of 

discovery,  125  ;  sails  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  178  ; 
discovers  the  Brazils,  ib.  ;  is  allowed,  as  a  reward, 
to  colonize  and  govern  the  lands  which  he  had  dis- 
covered, ib. 

Planisphere  of  Martin  Behem,  35. 

Pliny,  his  notice  of  electrical  lights  on  the  masts  of 
ships,  80. 

Poetry  of  the  Haytians,  98. 

Polo,  Nicholas  and  Matteo,  an  account  of  their  travels 
into  the  east,  264  ;  their  first  journey,  ib.  ;  return, 
ib.  ;  their  second  journey,  265  ;  their  return,  266  ; 
invite  their  relatives  to  a  splendid  banquet,  ib. 

,  Marco,  influence  of  his  travels  upon  the  mind 

of  Columbus,  1 6,  264  ;  short  account  of  his  travels, 
264  ;  his  return,  ib.  ;  commands  a  galley  at  the 
battle  of  Cuzzola,  266  ;  is  taken  prisoner  and  sent 
in  chains  to  Genoa,  ib.  ;  writes  an  account  of  his 
travels,  ib.  ;  is  liberated  and  returns  to  Venice,  ib.  ; 
an  account  of  his  work,  ib. 

Porras,  Francisco  de,  engages  in  a  mutiny  at  Jamaica, 
205  ;  they  embark  with  most  of  Columbus's  crew 
in  ten  Indian  canoes,  206  ;  are  driven  back,  ib.  ; 
and  with  their  companions  rove  about  the  island, 
207  ;  refuses  an  offer  of  pardon,  211  ;  attacks  the 
Admiral  and  Adelantado,  212  ;  taken  prisoner,  ib.  ; 
is  set  at  liberty  by  Ovando,  221  ;  and  sent  to  Spain 
to  be  examined  by  the  Indian  board,  ib. 


298 


INDEX. 


Porto  Rico,  or  Boriquen,  discovery  of,  83,  237. 

Portugal  and  Spain,  diplomatic  negotiations  between 
the  courts  of,  with  respect  to  the  new  discoveries, 
76. 

Potato  in  Hayti,  98. 

Prado,  prior  of.     See  Talavera. 

Prester  John,  an  imaginary  Christian  king,  19  ;  ac- 
count of,  263. 

Priests  of  the  Haytians,  96. 

Ptolemy,  difficulty  at  the  council  of  Salamanca  to  rec- 
oncile the  theory  of  Columbus  with  that  of,  26. 

Puerto  de  Bastimento,  harbor  of,  192. 

Bello,  discovery  of  by  Columbus,  192. 

Santo,  Columbus's  description  of,  51. 


Q. 

Queen's  Gardens,  Columbus's  arrival  at,  in  his  third 
voyage,  187  ;  archipelago  of,  discovered,  104. 

Question,  the  territorial,  how  settled,  79. 

Quibian,  Cacique  of  Veragua,  interview  with  Barthol- 
omew Columbus,  195  ;  second  interview,  ib.  ; 
determines  on  preventing  the  Spaniards  from  ob- 
taining a  settlement  in  his  territories,  ib.  ;  con- 
spires to  burn  their  houses  and  murder  them,  196  ; 
is  seized  by  the  Adelantado  with  his  wives  and 
children,  197  ;  escapes  in  a  very  extraordinary 
manner,  ib.  ;  attacks  the  Spaniards  and  is  de- 
feated, 198. 

Quinsai,  Marco  Polo's  account  of,  268. 

Quintanilla,  Alonzo  de,  receives  Columbus  into  his 
house,  23. 


R. 


Rabida,  La,  convent  of,  Columbus  is  entertained  at,  on 
his  first  arrival  in  Spain,  29  ;  present  state,  70,  note. 

Reeds,  river  of,  94. 

,  immense,  seen  on  the  Mosquito  coast,  189. 

Reinier,  King  of  Naples,  Columbus  engages  in  his 
service,  9. 

Religion  of  the  natives  of  Hayti,  96. 

Repartimientos,  origin  of,  162  ;  opposition  of  Don 
Diego  Columbus  to  the,  238. 

Requelme,  Pedro,  makes  his  house  the  headquarters 
of  the  rebels  at  Hispaniola,  158  ;  made  Alcalde  by 
Roldan,  163  ;  joins  in  a  conspiracy  with  Adrian  de 
Moxica,  166  ;  is  taken,  168. 

Rewards  and  punishments,  ideas  of  the  Haytians  in 
respect  to,  97. 

Rio  Verde,  or  the  Green  River,  94. 

Road,  the  first  constructed  by  Europeans  in  the  New 
World,  93. 

Rodriguez,  Sebastian,  takes  a  letter  from  the  prior 
Perez  to  the  queen,  29. 

Roldan,  Francisco,  history  and  character  of,  150 ; 
an  account  of  his  conspiracy,  ib.  ;  takes  pos- 
session of  Xaragua,  157  ;  his  conduct  in  re- 
spect to  the  ships  sent  forward  by  Columbus, 
ib.  ;  promises  to  repair  to  St.  Domingo  on  the  ar- 
rival of  Columbus,  ib.  ;  his  interview  with  Ballester, 
158  ;  rejects  an  offer  of  pardon,  ib.  ;  demands  his 
discharge,  160  ;  his  interview  with  Caravajal,  etc., 
ib.  ;  determines  on  going  to  the  admiral,  161  ; 
correspondence  with  the  admiral,  ib.  ;  sends  prop- 
ositions by  Caravajal,  ib.  ;  which  are  accepted, 
ib.  ;  circumstances  prevent  their  being  acted  upon, 
ib.  ;  makes  a  second  arrangement  with  the  admiral, 
162  ;  is  permitted  to  resume  his  office  of  Alcalde 
mayor,  ib.  ;  receives  a  grant  of  lands,  163  ;  visits 
his  lands,  ib.  ;  assumes  new  authority,  ib.  ;  is 
sent  to  meet  Alonzo  de  Ojeda,  164  ;  his  manoeuvres 
with  him,  165,  166  ;  his  rivalship  with  Guevara,  167  ; 
seizes  him  in  the  dwelling  of  Anacaona,  ib.  ;  treated 
with  confidence  by  Bobadilla,  175  ;  his  conduct 
investigated  by  Ovando,  161  ;  sails  for  Spain,  and 
is  lost  in  a  violent  hurricane,  187. 

Roman,  Friar,  his  account  of  the  natives  of  Hispan- 
iola, 96. 


S. 

Sabellicus,  his  account  of  the  capture  of  the  Venetian 
galleys,  246. 

Salamanca,  the  learned  assemble  at,  to  consider  the 
proposition  of  Columbus,  24  ;  pronounce  the  plan 

,     to  be  vain  and  impossible,  29. 

Salcedo,  Diego  de,  arrives  at  Jamaica  with  succors 
from  Ovando,  221. 

Salvador,  St.,  discovery  of,  42  ;  awe  and  surprise  oi 
the  natives  on  first  beholding  the  ships  of  Colum- 
bus, 43  ;  description  of  them,  ib.  ;  gold  first  dis- 
covered in  this  island,  ib. 

Samana,  Gulf  of,  discovered,  63. 

San  Rafael,  discovery  of,  112. 

Sanchez,  Juan,  takes  charge  of  Quibian,  197  ;  who 
escapes,  ib.  ;  killed  in  battle  by  the  Adelantado, 
274. 

Sande,  Don  Ruy  de,  his  mission  to  the  Spanish  court, 
76. 

Santa  Marta,  island  of,  discovered,  105. 

Santa,  La  Isla,  discovery  of,  137. 

Santa  Cruz,  island  of,  discovery  of,  82. 

Santa  Gloria  (St.  Ann's  Bay),  discovered  by  Colum  • 
bus,  103. 

Santiago.     See  Jamaica  ;  letter  of  Heneken,  93. 

,  river  of,  discovered,  62. 

Saometa,  discovery  of,  45. 

Saona,  island  of,  discovered,  112  ;  difference  of  lon- 
gitude between,  and  Cadiz,  ib. 

Scandinavians,  an  essay  relative  to  the  voyages  of, 

255- 
Schedel,  remarks  on  an  interpolation  in  his  chronicle, 

255- 

Seneca,  his  notice  of  electrical  lights  on  the  masts  of 
ships,  80. 

Serafin  Point,  106. 

Sharks,  a  multitude  of,  seen  on  the  coast  of  Veragua, 
194  ;  curious  method  of  taking  them,  105  ;  super- 
stition concerning,  194. 

Ships,  observations  relative  to  the  size  of  those  em- 
ployed by  Columbus,  257. 

Slaves,  five  hundred  are  sent  to  Spain,  120;  three  hun- 
dred sent  to  Bartholomew  Columbus,  144  ;  arrival 
in  Spain,  125  ;  Queen  Isabella  interests  herself  in 
their  favor,  ib.  ;  orders  them  to  be  sent  back  to 
Hayti,  ib.  ;  negroes  first  introduced  to  the  New 
World,  181  ;  revolt  of,  239  ;  Hispaniola  the  first 
island  to  exhibit  an  awful  retribution,  ib.  ;  regula- 
tions in  respect  to,  ib. 

Solomon,  the  gold  used  in  the  temple  of,  128. 

Soria,  Juan  de,  his  insolence  to  Columbus,  78. 

Soul,  ideas  of  the  Haytians  in  respect  to  the,  97  ;  the 
after  state  of,  believed  by  the  natives  of  Cuba.  109. 

Spain  and  Portugal,  diplomatic  negotiations  between 
the  courts  of,  with  respect  to  the  new  discoveries, 
76. 

Spotorno,  Gio,  publishes  documents  relative  to 
Columbus,  185. 

Sugar-cane  introduced  into  Hayti,  99. 

Superstition  of  St.  Elmo  lights,  80. 

Swallow,  a,  encircles  the  ships  of  Columbus,  80. 


T. 


Talavera,  Fernando  de,  prior  of  Prado  and  confessor 
to  Queen  Isabella,  28  ;  esteems  Columbus's  plan 
impossible,  29  ;  he  is  desired  by  the  king  to  assem- 
ble men  of  science  to  consider  the  matter,  ib.  ;  re- 
ports to  the  king  that  the  council  had  pronounced 
the  plan  vain  and  impossible,  ib.  ;  takes  a  message 
from  the  king,  ib.  ;  disgusted  at  the  high  terms  in- 
sisted on  by  Columbus,  30. 

Teneriffe,  fears  of  the  crew  at  beholding  Mount,  36. 

Territory,  question  of,  how  settled,  79. 

Thomas,  St.,  fortress  of,  erected,  94  ;  see  note,  ib.  ; 
conduct  of  the  colonists  there,  99  :  attacks  of,  116. 

Tobacco,  first  seen  in  the  island  of  Cuba,  49. 

Tobago,  discovery  of,  141. 

Toledo,    Archbishop    of,    his    character,    24  ;     gives 


INDEX. 


299 


Columbus  an  attentive  hearing,  ib.  ;  and  procures 
him  an  audience  of  the  king,  ib. 

Toledo,  Dona  Maria  de,  Don  Diego  Columbus  be- 
comes enamored  of,  237  ;  their  marriage,  ib.  ;  and 
embarkation  for  Hispaniola,  ib.  ;  is  left  as  vice- 
queen  at  St.  Domingo  on  the  sailing  of  Don  Diego 
for  Spain.  238  ;  becomes  a  widow,  240. 

Torre,  Dona  Juana  de  la,  receives  a  letter  from 
Columbus  with  an  account  of  his  treatment,  176. 

Torres,  Antonio  de,  dispatched  from  Hispaniola, 
with  twelve  ships,  to  Spain,  go  ;  arrives  at  Cadiz, 
125  ;  dismissed  from  office,  134. 

— — ,  Luis  de,  sent  up  the  island  of  Cuba  by  Colum- 
bus, 48  ;  an  account  of  his  journey,  ib. 

Tortoises,  sea  covered  with,  on  the  southern  coast  of 
Cuba,  107  ;  curious  method  of  taking,  105  ;  a  living 
one  taken  out  of  the  maw  of  a  shark,  194. 

Tortugas,  beautiful  island  of,  discovery  of,  55. 

Toscanelli,  Paulo,  his  correspondence  with  Colum- 
bus, 16. 

Trade  of  the  colonies  monopolized  by  the  crown  of 
Spain,  180  ;  the  Spanish  system  the  scoff  of  modern 
times,  181. 

Trasierra,  Juan  de,  173. 

Triana,  Rodrigo  de,  first  sees  the  land  of  the  western 
world,  42. 

Tribute  imposed  upon  the  Haytians,  122. 

Trinidad,  island  of,  discovered,  137  ;  description  of  its 
appearance,  ib.  ;  curious  account  of  the  natives,  ib. 

Tristan,  Diego,  198  ;  is  killed,  199. 

Tudela,  Benjamin,  travels  of,  19. 

Turk's  Island,  observations  relative  to,  259. 


U. 
Ursula,  Santa,  island  of,  discovered,  83. 


V. 

Vassals,  natives  of  Hispaniola  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of,  163. 

Vega,  Garcillaso  de  la,  his  tale  relative  to  a  pilot  hav- 
ing died  in  the  house  of  Columbus,  253. 

,  River,  93  ;  called  by  the  natives  Yagui,  ib. 

,  Real,  the  royal  plain,  94,  98  ;  account  of,  see 

note,  93. 

Velasco,  Francisco,  173. 

Velasquez,  Diego,  commands  the  soldiery  at  the  mas- 
sacre of  Xaragua,  216. 

Veragua.  coast  of,  discovery  of,  191  ;  warlike  spirit 
of  the  inhabitants,  ib.  ;  soil  appears  to  be  impreg- 
nated with  gold,  195  ;  Golden  Castile,  237. 

Veraguas,  Duke  of,  consents  to  have  the  remains  of 
Columbus  removed  to  Cuba,  235. 

,  the  heirship  to  Columbus  decided  in  his  favor, 

240, 

Verde,  Cape  de,  discovery  of,  n. 

Vespucci,  Amerigo,  first  notice  of  his  expedition,  165  ; 


employed  by  Columbus  at  court,  225  ;  an  account 
of,  247  ;  a  summary  view  of  his  claim  to  the  title  of 
a  discoverer,  ib.  ;  the  voyage  whence  his  name  was 
given  to  the  American  continent,  248  ;  Columbus's 
letter  to  his  son  relative  to  the  merit  and  mis- 
fortunes of,  249  ;  Peter  Martyr's  character  of,  251  ; 
his  letter  to  Rene,  Duke  of  Lorraine,  249  ;  obser- 
vations relative  to  the  points  in  controversy,  ib.  ; 
author's  conclusion,  that  the  voyage  asserted  to 
have  been  made  by  Amerigo  Vespucci  never  took 
place,  251. 

Vessel,  stern-post  of  a,  found  in  one  of  the  houses  at 
Guadaloupe,  81. 

Villains,  natives  of  Hispaniola  reduced  to  the  con- 
dition of,  163. 

Villejo,  Alonzo  de,  appointed  to  carry  Columbus  to 
Spain,  175  ;  character  of,  ib.  ;  his  colloquy  with 
Columbus  previous  to  their  sailing,  176. 

Vines  introduced  into  Hayti,  99. 

Vinland,  a  supposed  discovery,  255. 

Virgins,  the  Eleven  Thousand,  islands  of,  discovered, 
83. 

Vows  made  in  a  storm  by  Columbus  and  his  crew, 
65  ;  attempt  at  fulfilment,  66. 
i 

W. 

Waterspout,  a  remarkable,  seen  on  the  coast  of 
Veragua,  194. 

Wax,  cake  of,  presented  to  the  sovereigns  by  Colum- 
bus, 51. 

Wheat  introduced  into  Hayti,  99. 

Wolves,  sea,  several  killed  on  the  coast  of  Hispan- 
iola, in. 

Woman,  account  of  a  very  strong,  of  Guadaloupe,  129  ; 
taken  to  Columbus's  ship,  ib.  ;  falls  in  love  with 
Caonabo,  and  refuses  to  return  on  shore,  ib. 

Women,  origin  of,  according  to  the  Haytians,  97. 

Writing,  fear  of  the  Indians  of  Cariari  at  seeing  the 
Spaniards  write,  190. 

X. 

Xagua,  Gulf  of,  106. 
Xaragua,  domain  of,  an  account  of,  114  ;  description 

of  its  inhabitants,  ib.  ;  Roldan   takes  possession  of, 

157  ;  massacre  at,  215. 

Xerif  al  Edrizi,  his  description  of  the  Atlantic,  7. 
Ximenes,  Cardinal,  238  ;  prohibits  licenses  to  import 

slaves  from  Africa  to  the  colonies,  275. 


Yanique,  river  of,  94. 


Y. 


Z. 


Zipanga  (Japan),  Marco  Polo's  account  of,  268. 
Zones,  the  observations  relative  to,  269 


ASTORIA; 


OR, 


ANECDOTES   OF   AN    ENTERPRISE 


ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


BY 


WASHINGTON   IRVING. 


INTRODUCTION. 

IN  the  course  of  occasional  visits  to  Canada 
many  years  since,  I  became  intimately  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  principal  partners  of  the  great 
Northwest  Fur  Company,  who  at  that  time  lived 
in  genial  style  at  Montreal,  and  kept  almost  open 
house  for  the  stranger.  At  their  hospitable 
boards  I  occasionally  met  with  partners,  and 
clerks,  and  hardy  fur  traders  from  the  interior 
posts  ;  men  who  had  passed  years  remote  from 
civilized  society,  among  distant  and  savage  tribes, 
and  who  had  wonders  to  recount  of  their  wida  and 
wild  peregrinations,  their  hunting  exploits,  and 
their  perilous  adventures  and  hair-breadth  es- 
capes among  the  Indians.  I  was  at  an  age  when 
imagination  lends  its  coloring  to  everything,  and 
the  stories  of  these  Sinbads  of  the  wilderness 
made  the  life  of  a  trapper  and  fur  trader  perfect 
romance  to  me.  I  even  meditated  at  one  time  a 
visit  to  the  remote  posts  of  the  company  in  the 
boats  which  annually  ascended  the  lakes  and  riv- 
ers, being  thereto  invited  by  one  of  the  partners  ; 
and  I  have  ever  since  regretted  that  I  was  pre- 
vented by  circumstances  from  carrying  my  inten- 
tion into  effect.  From  those  early  impressions, 
the  grand  enterprises  of  the  great  fur  companies, 
and  the  hazardous  errantry  of  their  associates  in 
the  wild  parts  of  our  vast  continent,  have  always 
been  themes  of  charmed  interest  to  me  ;  and  I 
have  felt  anxious  to  get  at  the  details  of  their  ad- 
venturous expeditions  among  the  savage  tribes 
that  peopled  the  depths  of  the  wilderness. 

About  two  years  ago,  not  long  after  my  return 
from  a  tour  upon  the  prairies  of  the  far  West,  I 
had  a  conversation  with  my  friend,  Mr.  John  Ja- 
cob Astor,  relative  to  that  portion  of  our  country, 
and  to  the  adventurous  traders  to  Santa  Fe  and 
the  Columbia.  This  led  him  to  advert  to  a  great 
enterprise  set  on  foot  and  conducted  by  him,  be- 
tween twenty  and  thirty  years  since,  having  for 
its  object  to  carry  the  fur  trade  across  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  to  sweep  the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 

Finding  that  I  took  an  interest  in  the  subject, 
he  expressed  a  regret  that  the  true  nature  and  ex- 
tent of  his  enterprise  and  its  national  character 
and  importance  had  never  been  understood,  and 


a  wish  that  I  would  undertake  to  give  an  account 
of  it.  The  suggestion  struck  upon  the  chord  of 
early  associations,  already  vibrating  in  my  mind. 
It  occurred  to  me  that  a  work  of  this  kind  might 
comprise  a  variety  of  those  curious  details,  so  in- 
teresting to  me,  illustrative  of  the  fur  trade  ;  of  its 
remote  and  adventurous  enterprises,  and  of  the 
various  people,  and  tribes,  and  castes,  and  char- 
acters, civilized  and  savage,  affected  by  its  opera- 
tions. The  journals,  and  letters  also,  of  the  ad- 
venturers by  sea  and  land  employed  by  Mr.  Astor 
in  his  comprehensive  project,  might  throw  light 
upon  portions  of  our  country  quite  out  of  the  track 
of  ordinary  travel,  and  as  yet  but  little  known.  I 
therefore  felt  disposed  to  undertake  the  task,  pro- 
vided documents  of  sufficient  extent  and  minute- 
ness could  be  furnished  to  me.  All  the  papers 
relative  to  the  enterprise  were  accordingly  sub- 
mitted to  my  inspection.  Among  them  were 
journals  and  letters  narrating  expeditions  by  sea, 
and  journeys  to  and  fro  across  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains by  routes  before  untravelled,  together  with 
documents  illustrative  of  savage  and  colonial  life 
on  the  borders  of  the  Pacific.  With  such  materi- 
als in  hand,  I  undertook  the  work.  The  trouble 
of  rummaging  among  business  papers,  and  of  col- 
lecting and  collating  facts  from  amid  tedious 
and  commonplace  details,  was  spared  me  by  my 
nephew,  Pierre  M.  Irving,  who  acted  as  my  pio- 
neer, and  to  whom  I  am  greatly  indebted  for 
smoothing  my  path  and  lightening  my  labors. 

As  the  journals  on  which  I  chiefly  depended  had 
been  kept  by  men  of  business,  intent  upon  the 
main  object  of  the  enterprise,  and  but  little  versed 
in  science,  or  curious  about  matters  not  immedi- 
ately bearing  upon  their  interests,  and  as  they 
were  written  often  in  moments  of  fatigue  or  hurry, 
amid  the  inconveniences  of  wild  encampments, 
they  were  often  meagre  in  their  details,  furnishing 
hints  to  provoke  rather  than  narratives  to  satisfy 
inquiry.  I  have,  therefore,  availed  myself  occa- 
sionally of  collateral  lights  supplied  by  the  pub- 
lished journals  of  other  travellers  who  have  visited 
the  scenes  described  :  such  as  Messrs.  Lewis  and 
Clarke,  Bradbury,  Brecken ridge,  Long,  Franchere, 
and  Ross  Cox,  and  make  a  general  acknowledg- 
ment of  aid  received  from  these  quarters. 


302 


ASTORIA. 


The  work  I  here  present  to  the  public  is  neces- 
sarily of  a  rambling  and  somewhat  disjointed  na- 
ture, comprising  various  expeditions  and  adven- 
tures by  land  and  sea.  The  facts,  however,  will 
prove  to  be  linked  and  banded  together  by  one 
grand  scheme,  devised  and  conducted  by  a  mas- 
ter spirit  ;  one  set  of  characters,  also,  continues 
throughout,  appearing  occasionally,  though  some- 
times at  long  intervals,  and  the  whole  enterprise 
winds  up  by  a  regular  catastrophe  ;  so  that  the 
work,  without  any  labored  attempt  at  artificial 
construction,  actually  possesses  much  of  that  unity 
so  much  sought  after  in  works  of  fiction,  and 
considered  so  important  to  the  interest  of  every 
history. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Two  leading  objects  of  commercial  gain  have 
given  birth  to  wide  and  daring  enterprise  in  the 
early  history  of  the  Americas  :  the  precious  met- 
als of  the  south,  and  the  rich  peltries  of  the  north. 
While  the  fiery  and  magnificent  Spaniard,  in- 
flamed with  the  mania  for  gold,  has  extended  his 
discoveries  and  conquests  over  those  brilliant 
countries  scorched  by  the  ardent  sun  of  the  trop- 
ics, the  adroit  and  buoyant  Frenchman,  and  the 
cool  and  calculating  Briton,  have  pursued  the 
less  splendid,  but  no  less  lucrative,  traffic  in  furs 
amid  the  hyperborean  regions  of  the  Canadas, 
until  they  have  advanced  even  within  the  Arctic 
circle. 

These  two  pursuits  have  thus  in  a  manner  been 
the  pioneers  and  precursors  of  civilization.  With- 
out pausing  on  the  borders,  they  have  penetrated 
at  once,  in  defiance  of  difficulties  and  dangers,  to 
the  heart  of  savage  countries  :  laying  open  the 
hidden  secrets  of  the  wilderness  ;  leading  the 
way  to.  remote  regions  of  beauty  and  fertility  that 
might  have  remained  unexplored  for  ages,  and 
beckoning  after  them  the  slow  and  pausing  steps 
of  agriculture  and  civilization. 

It  was  the  fur  trade,  in  fact,  which  gave  early 
sustenance  and  vitality  to  the  great  Canadian 
provinces.  Being  destitute  of  the  precious  met- 
als, at  that  time  the  leading  objects  of  American 
enterprise,  they  were  long  neglected  by  the  par- 
ent country.  The  French  adventurers,  however, 
who  had  settled  on  the  banks  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, soon  found  that  in  the  rich  peltries  of  the 
interior,  they  had  sources  of  wealth  that  might 
almost  rival  the  mines  of  Mexico  and  Peru.  The 
Indians,  as  yet  unacquainted  with  the  artificial 
value  given  to  some  descriptions  of  furs,  in  civil- 
ized life,  brought  quantities  of  the  most  precious 
kinds  and  bartered  them  away  for  European  trink- 
ets and  cheap  commodities.  Immense  profits 
were  thus  made  by  the  early  traders,  and  the 
traffic  was  pursued  with  avidity. 

As  the  valuable  furs  soon  became  scarce  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  settlements,  the  Indians  of 
the  vicinity  were  stimulated  to  take  a  wider  range 
in  their  hunting  expeditions  ;  they  were  generally 
accompanied  on  these  expeditions  by  some  of  the 
traders  or  their  dependents,  who  shared  in  the 
toils  and  perils  of  the  chase,  and  at  the  same  time 
made  themselves  acquainted  with  the  best  hunt- 
ing and  trapping  grounds,  and  with  the  remote 
tribes,  whom  they  encouraged  to  bring  their  pel- 
tries to  the  settlements.  In  this  way  the  trade 
augmented,  and  was  drawn  from  remote  quarters 
to  Montreal.  Every  now  and  then  a  large  body 
of  Ottawas,  Hurons,  and  other  tribes  who  hunted 
the  countries  bordering  on  the  great  lakes,  would 


come  down  in  a  squadron  of  light  canoes,  laden 
with  beaver  skins,  and  other  spoils  of  their  year's 
hunting.  The  canoes  would  be  unladen,  taken 
on  shore,  and  their  contents  disposed  in  order. 
A  camp  of  birch  bark  would  be  pitched  outside  of 
the  town,  and  a  kind  of  primitive  fair  opened  with 
that  grave  ceremonial  so  dear  to  the  Indians.  An 
audience  would  be  demanded  of  the  governor- 
general,  who  would  hold  the  conference  with  be- 
coming state,  seated  in  an  elbow  chair,  with  the 
Indians  ranged  in  semicircles  before  him,  seated 
on  the  ground,  and  silently  smoking  their  pipes. 
Speeches  would  be  made,  presents  exchanged, 
and  the  audience  would  break  up  in  universal 
good  humor. 

Now  would  ensue  a  brisk  traffic  with  the  mer- 
chants, and  all  Montreal  would  be  alive  with  na- 
ked Indians  running  from  shop  to  shop,  bargain- 
ing for  arms,  kettles,  knives,  axes,  blankets, 
bright-colored  cloths,  and  other  articles  of  use  or 
fancy  ;  upon  all  which,  says  an  old  French  wri- 
ter, the  merchants  were  sure  to  clear  at  least  two 
hundred  per  cent.  There  was  no  money  used  in 
this  traffic,  and,  after  a  time,  all  payment  in  spir- 
ituous liquors  was  prohibited,  in  consequence  of 
the  frantic  and  frightful  excesses  and  bloody 
brawls  which  they  were  apt  to  occasion. 

Their  wants  and  caprices  being  supplied,  they 
would  take  leave  of  the  governor,  strike  their 
tents,  launch  their  canoes,  and  ply  their  way  up 
the  Ottawa  to  the  lakes. 

A  new  and  anomalous  class  of  men  gradually 
grew  out  of  this  trade.  These  were  called  cou- 
reurs  des  bois,  rangers  of  the  woods  ;  originally 
men-  who  had  accompanied  the  Indians  in  their 
hunting  expeditions,  and  made  themselves  ac- 
quainted with  remote  tracts  and  tribes  ;  and  who 
now  became,  as  it  were,  pedlers  of  the  wilder- 
ness. These  men  would  set  out  from  Montreal 
with  canoes  well  stocked  with  goods,  with  arms 
and  ammunition,  and  would  make  their  way  up 
the  mazy  and  wandering  rivers  that  interlace  the 
vast  forests  of  the  Canadas,  coasting  the  most  re- 
mote lakes,  and  creating  new  wants  and  habi- 
tudes among  the  natives.  Sometimes  they  so- 
journed for  months  among  them,  assimilating  to 
their  tastes  and  habits  with  the  happy  facility  of 
Frenchmen  ;  adopting  in  some  degree  the  Indian 
dress,  and  not  unfrequently  taking  to  themselves 
Indian  wives. 

Twelve,  fifteen,  eighteen  months  would  often 
elapse  without  any  tidings  of  them,  when  they 
would  come  sweeping  their  way  down  the  Ottawa 
in  full  glee,  their  canoes  laden  down  with  packs  of 
beaver  skins.  Now  came  their  turn  for  revelry 
and  extravagance.  "You  would  be  amazed," 
says  an  old  writer  already  quoted,  "  if  you  saw 
how  lewd  these  pedlers  are  when  they  return  ; 
how  they  feast  and  game,  and  how  prodigal  they 
are,  not  only  in  their  clothes,  but  upon  their  sweet- 
hearts. Such  of  them  as  are  married  have  the 
wisdom  to  retire  to  their  own  houses  ;  but  the 
bachelors  act  just  as  an  East  Indiaman  and  pi- 
rates are  wont  to  do  ;  for  they  lavish,  eat,  drink, 
and  play  all  away  as  long  as  the  goods  hold  out  ; 
and  when  these  are  gone,  they  even  sell  their  em- 
broidery, their  lace,  and  their  clothes.  This 
done,  they  are  forced  upon  a  new  voyage  for  sub- 
sistence."* 

Many  of  these  conrcurs  des  bois  became  so  ac- 
customed to  the  Indian  mode  of  living,  and  the 
perfect  freedom  of  the  wilderness,  that  they  lost 
all  relish  for  civilization,  and  identified  themselves 


*  La  Hontan,  v.  i.  let.  4. 


ASTORIA. 


303 


with  the  savages  among  whom  they  dwelt,  or 
could  only  be  distinguished  from  them  by  supe- 
rior licentiousness.  Their  conduct  and  example 
gradually  corrupted  the  natives,  and  impeded  the 
works  of  the  Catholic  missionaries,  who  were  at 
this  time  prosecuting  their  pious  labors  in  the 
wilds  of  Canada. 

To  check  these  abuses,  and  to  protect  the  fur 
trade  from  various  irregularities  practised  by  these 
loose  adventurers,  an  order  was  issued  by  the 
French  Government  prohibiting  all  persons,  on 
pain  of  death,  from  trading  into  the  interior  of  the 
country  without  a  license. 

These  licenses  were  granted  in  writing  by  the 
governor-general,  and  at  first  were  given  only  to 
persons  of  respectability  ;  to  gentlemen  of  broken 
fortunes  ;  to  old  officers  of  the  army  who  had 
families  to  provide  for  ;  or  to  their  widows.  Each 
license  permitted  the  fitting  out  of  two  large  canoes 
with  merchandise  for  the  lakes,  and  no  more  than 
twenty-five  licenses  were  to  be  issued  in  one  year. 
By  degrees,  however,  private  licenses  were  also 
granted,  and  the  number  rapidly  increased. 
Those  who  did  not  choose  to  fit  out  the  expedi- 
tions themselves  were  permitted  to  sell  them  [to 
the  merchants  ;  these  employed  the  coureurs  des 
bois,  or  rangers  of  the  woods,  to  undertake  the 
long  voyages  on  shares,  and  thus  the  abuses  of 
the  old  system  were  revived  and  continued.* 

The  pious  missionaries,  employed  by  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  Church  to  convert  the  Indians,  did 
everything  in  their  power  to  counteract  the  profli- 
gacy caused  and  propagated  by  these  men  in  the 
heart  of  the  wilderness.  The  Catholic  chapel 
might  often  be  seen  planted  beside  the  trading 
house,  and  its  spire  surmounted  by  a  cross,  tow- 
ering from  the  midst  of  an  Indian  village,  on  the 
banks  of  a  river  or  a  lake.  The  missions  had 
often  a  beneficial  effect  on  the  simple  sons  of  the 
forest,  but  had  little  power  over  the  renegades 
from  civilization. 

At  length  it  was  found  necessary  to  establish 
fortified  posts  at  the  confluence  of  the  rivers  and 
the  lakes  for  the  protection  of  the  trade,  and  the 
restraint  of  these  profligates  of  the  wilderness. 
The  most  important  of  these  was  at  Michilimack- 
inac,  situated  at  the  strait  of  the  same  name, 
which  connects  Lakes  Huron  and  Michigan.  It 
became  the  great  interior  mart  and  place  of  de- 
posit, and  some  of  the  regular  merchants  who 
prosecuted  the  trade  in  person,  under  their  li- 
censes, formed  establishments  here.  This,  too,- 


*  The  following  are  the  terms  on  which  these  expe- 
ditions were  commonly  undertaken.  The  merchant 
holding  the  license  would  fit  out  the  two  canoes  with 
a  thousand  crowns'  worth  of  goods,  and  put  them  un- 
der the  conduct  of  six  coureurs  des  bois,  to  whom  the 
goods  were  charged  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  per  cent 
above  the  ready-money  price  in  the  colony.  The 
coureurs  des  bois,  in  their  turn,  dealt  so  sharply  with 
the  savages,  that  they  generally  returned,  at  the  end 
of  a  year  or  so,  with  four  canoes  well  laden,  so  as  to 
insure  a  clear  profit  of  seven  hundred  per  cent,  inso- 
much that  the  thousand  crowns  invested  produced 
eight  thousand.  Of  this  extravagant  profit  the  mer- 
chant had  the  lion's  share.  In  the  first  place  he  would 
set  aside  six  hundred  crowns  for  the  cost  of  his  license, 
then  a  thousand  crowns  for  the  cost  of  the  original 
merchandise.  This  would  leave  six  thousand  four 
hundred  crowns,  from  which  he  would  take  forty  per 
cent  for  bottomry,  amounting  to  two  thousand  five  hun- 
dred and  sixty  crowns.  The  residue  would  be  equally 
divided  among  the  six  good  rangers, who  would  thus  re- 
ceive little  more  than  six  hundred  crowns  for  all  their 
toils  and  perils 


was  a  rendezvous  for  the  rangers  of  the  woods, 
as  well  those  who  came  up  with  goods  from  Mont- 
real as  those  who  returned  with  peltries  from 
the  interior.  Here  new  expeditions  were  fitted  out 
and  took  their  departure  for  Lake  Michigan  and 
the  Mississippi  ;  Lake  Superior  and  the  north- 
west ;  and  here  the  peltries  brought  in  return 
were  embarked  for  Montreal. 

The  French  merchant  at  his  trading  post,  in 
these  primitive  days  of  Canada,  was  a  kind  of 
commercial  patriarch.  With  the  lax  habits  and 
easy  familiarity  of  his  race,  he  had  a  little  world 
of  self-indulgence  and  misrule  around  him.  He 
had  his  clerks,  canoe-men,  and  retainers  of  all 
kinds,  who  lived  with  him  on  terms  of  perfect  so- 
ciability, always  calling  him  by  his  Christian 
name  ;  he  had  his  harem  of  Indian  beauties,  and 
his  troop  of  half-breed  children  ;  nor  was  there 
ever  wanting  a  louting  train  of  Indians,  hanging 
about  the  establishment,  eating  and  drinking  at 
his  expense  in  the  intervals  of  their  hunting  expe- 
ditions. 

The  Canadian  traders,  for  a  long  time,  had 
troublesome  competitors  in  the  British  merchants 
of  New  York,  who  inveigled  the  Indian  hunters 
and  the  coureurs  des  bois  to  their  posts,  and 
traded  with  them  on  more  favorable  terms.  A 
still  more  formidable  opposition  was  organized  in 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  chartered  by  Charles 
II.,  in  1670,  with  the  exclusive  privilege  of  estab- 
lishing trading  houses  on  the  shores  of  that  bay 
and  its  tributary  rivers  ;  a  privilege  which  they 
have  maintained  to  the  present  day.  Between 
this  British  company  and  the  French  merchants 
of  Canada  feuds  and  contests  arose  about  alleged 
infringements  of  territorial  limits,  and  acts  of 
violence  and  bloodshed  occurred  between  their 
agents. 

In  1762  the  French  lost  possession  of  Canada, 
and  the  trade  fell  principally  into  the  hands  of 
British  subjects.  For  a  time,  however,  it  shrunk 
within  narrow  limits.  The  old  coureurs  des  bois 
were  broken  up  and  dispersed,  or,  where  they 
could  be  met  with,  were  slow  to  accustom  them- 
selves to  the  habits  and  manners  of  their  British 
employers.  They  missed  the  freedom,  indul- 
gence, and  familiarity  of  the  old  French  trading 
houses,  and  did  not  relish  the  sober  exactness,  re- 
serve, and  method  of  the  new-comers.  The  Brit- 
ish traders,  too,  were  ignorant  of  the  country, 
and  distrustful  of  the  natives.  They  had  reason 
to  be  so.  The  treacherous  and  bloody  affairs  of 
Detroit  and  Michilimackinac  showed  them  the 


lurking  hostility  cherished   by  the  savages,  who 

.."       >'  the 
them  as  enemies. 


had  too  long  been  taught  by  the  French  to  regard 


It  was  not  until  the  year  1766  that  the  trade  re- 
gained its  old  channels  ;  but  it  was  then  pursued 
with  much  avidity  and  emulation  by  individual 
merchants,  and  soon  transcended  its  former 
bounds.  Expeditions  were  fitted  out  by  various 
persons  from  Montreal  and  Michilimackinac,  and 
rivalships  and  jealousies  of  course  ensued.  The 
trade  was  injured  by  their  artifices  to  outbid  and 
undermine  each  other  ;  the  Indians  were  de- 
bauched by  the  sale  of  spirituous  liquors,  which 
had  been  prohibited  under  the  French  rule. 
Scenes  of  drunkenness,  brutality,  and  brawl  were 
the  consequence,  in  the  Indian  villages  and 
around  the  trading  houses  ;  while  bloody  feuds 
took  place  between  rival  trading  parties  when, 
they  happened  to  encounter  each  other  in  the  law- 
less depths  of  the  wilderness. 

To  put  an  end  to  these  sordid  and  ruinous  con- 
tentions, several  of  the  principal  merchants  of 


304 


ASTORIA. 


Montreal  entered  into  a  partnership  in  the  winter 
of  1783,  which  was  augmented  by  amalgamation 
with  a  rival  company  in  1787.  Thus  was  created 
the  famous  "  Northwest  Company,"  which  for  a 
time  held  a  lordly  sway  over  the  wintry  lakes 
and  boundless  forests  of  the  Canadas,  almost 
equal  to  that  of  the  East  India  Company  over  the 
voluptuous  climes  and  magnificent  realms  of  the 
Orient. 

The  company  consisted  of  twenty-three  share- 
holders or  partners,  but  held  in  its  employ  about 
two  thousand  persons  as  clerks,  guides,  interpret- 
ers, and  "  voyageurs,"  or  boatmen.  These  were 
distributed  at  various  trading  posts,  established 
far  and  wide  on  the  interior  lakes  and  rivers, 
at  immense  distances  from  each  other,  and  in 
the  heart  of  trackless  countries  and  savage 
tribes. 

Several  of  the  partners  resided  in  Montreal  and 
Quebec,  to  manage  the  main  concerns  of  the  com- 
pany. These  were  called  agents,  and  were  per- 
sonages of  great  weight  and  importance  ;  the 
other  partners  took  their  stations  at  the  interior 
posts,  where  they  remained  throughout  the  win- 
ter, to  superintend  the  intercourse  with  the  vari- 
ous tribes  of  Indians.  They  were  thence  called 
wintering  partners. 

The  goods  destined  for  this  wide  and  wander- 
ing traffic  were  put  up  at  the  warehouses  of  the 
company  in  Montreal,  and  conveyed  in  batteaux, 
or  boats  and  canoes,  up  the  River  Attawa,  or  Ot- 
towa,  which  falls  into  the  St.  Lawrence  near  Mont- 
real, and  by  other  rivers  and  portages  to  Lake 
Nipissing,  Lake  Huron,  Lake  Superior,  and 
thence,  by  several  chains  of  great  and  small  lakes, 
to  Lake  Winnipeg,  Lake  Athabasca,  and  the  Great 
Slave  Lake.  This  singular  and  beautiful  system 
of  internal  seas,  which  renders  an  immense  re- 
gion of  wilderness  so  accessible  to  the  frail  bark 
of  the  Indian  or  the  trader,  was  studded  by 
the  remote  posts  of  the  company,,  where  they 
carried  on  their  traffic  with  the  surrounding 
tribes. 

The  company,  as  we  have  shown,  was  at  first 
a  spontaneous  association  of  merchants  ;  but  after 
it  had  been  regularly  organized,  admission  into 
it  became  extremely  difficult.  A  candidate  had 
to  enter,  as  it  were,  "  before  the  mast,"  to  under- 
go a  long  probation,  and  to  rise  slowly  by  his 
merits  and  services.  He  began  at  an  early  age 
as  a  clerk,  and  served  an  apprenticeship  of  seven 
years,  for  which  he  received  one  hundred  pounds 
sterling,  was  maintained  at  the  expense  of  the 
company,  and  furnished  with  suitable  clothing 
and  equipments.  His  probation  was  generally 
passed  at  the  interior  trading  posts  ;  removed  for 
years  from  civilized  society,  leading  a  life  almost 
as  wild  and  precarious  as  the  savages  around 
him  ;  exposed  to  the  severities  of  a  northern  win- 
ter, often  suffering  from  a  scarcity  of  food,  and 
sometimes  destitute  for  a  long  time  of  both  bread 
and  salt.  When  his  apprenticeship  had  expired, 
he  received  a  salary  according  to  his  deserts, 
varying  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  and  sixty 
pounds  sterling,  and  was  now  eligible  to  the 
great  object  of  his  ambition,  a  partnership  in  the 
company  ;  though  years  might  yet  elapse  before 
he  attained  to  that  enviable  station. 

Most  of  the  clerks  were  young  men  of  good  fam- 
ilies, from  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  character- 
ized by  the  perseverance,  thrift,  and  fidelity  of 
their  country,  and  fitted  by  their  native  hardihood 
to  encounter  the  rigorous  climate  of  the  north, 
and  to  endure  the  trials  and  privations  of  their 
lot ;  though  it  must  not  be  concealed  that  the 


constitutions  of  many  of  them  became  impaired 
by  the  hardships  of  the  wilderness,  and  their 
stomachs  injured  by  occasional  famishing,  and 
especially  by  the  want  of  bread  and  salt.  Now  and 
then,  at  an  interval  of  years,  they  were  permitted 
to  come  down  on  a  visit  to  the  establishment  at 
Montreal,  to  recruit  their  health,  and  to  have  a 
taste  of  civilized  life  ;  and  these  were  brilliant 
spots  in  their  existence. 

As  to  the  principal  partners  or  agents,  who  re- 
sided in  Montreal  and  Quebec,  they  formed  a  kind 
of  commercial  aristocracy,  living  in  lordly  and 
hospitable  style.  Their  early  associations  when 
clerks  at  the  remote  trading  posts,  and  the  pleas- 
ures, dangers,  adventures,  and  mishaps  which 
they  had  shared  together  in  their  wild  wood  life, 
had  linked  them  heartily  to  each  other,  so  that 
they  formed  a  convivial  fraternity.  Few  travel- 
lers that  have  visited  Canada  some  thirty  years 
since,  in  the  days  of  the  M'Tavishes,  the  M'Gilli- 
vrays,  the  M'Kenzies,  the  Frobishers,  and  the 
other  magnates  of  the  northwest,  when  the  com- 
pany was  in  all  its  glory,  but  must  remember  the 
round  of  feasting  and  revelry  kept  up  among 
these  hyperborean  nabobs. 

Sometimes  one  or  two  partners,  recently  from 
the  interior  posts,  would  make  their  appearance 
in  New  York,  in  the  course  of  a  tour  of  pleasure 
and  curiosity.  On  these  occasions  there  was  al- 
ways a  degree  of  magnificence  of  the  purse  about 
them,  and  a  peculiar  propensity  to  expenditure  at 
the  goldsmith's  and  jeweller's,  for  rings,  chains, 
brooches,  necklaces,  jewelled  watches,  and  other 
rich  trinkets,  partly  for  their  own  wear,  partly  for 
presents  to  their  female  acquaintances  ;  a  gor- 
geous prodigality,  such  as  was  often  to  be  noticed 
in  former  times  in  southern  planters  and  West  In- 
dia Creoles,  when  flush  with  the  profits  of  their 
plantations. 

To  behold  the  Northwest  Company  in  all  its 
state  and  grandeur,  however,  it  was  necessary 
to  witness  an  annual  gathering  at  the  great  inte- 
rior place  of  conference  established  at  Fort  Will- 
iam, near  what  is  called  the  Grand  Portage,  on 
Lake  Superior.  Here  two  or  three  of  the  leading 
partners  from  Montreal  proceeded  once  a  year  to 
meet  the  partners  from  the  various  trading  posts 
of  the  wilderness,  to  discuss  the  affairs  of  the  com- 
pany during  the  preceding  year,  and  to  arrange 
plans  for  the  future. 

On  these  occasions  might  be  seen  the  change 
since  the  unceremonious  times  of  the  old  French 
traders  ;  now  the  aristocratical  character  of  the 
Briton  shone  forth  magnificently,  or  rather  the 
feudal  spirit  of  the  Highlander.  Every  partner 
who  had  charge  of  an  interior  post,  and  a  score 
of  retainers  at  his  command,  felt  like  the  chieftain 
of  a  Highland  clan,  and  was  almost  as  impor- 
tant in  the  eyes  of  his  dependents  as  of  himself. 
To  him  a  visit  to  the  grand  conference  at  Fort 
William  was  a  most  important  event  ;  and  he  re- 
paired there  as  to  a  meeting  of  parliament. 

The  partners  from  Montreal,  however,  were  the 
lords  of  the  ascendant  ;  coming  from  the  midst 
of  luxurious  and  ostentatious  life,  they  quite 
eclipsed  their  compeers  from  the  woods,  whose 
forms  and  faces  had  been  battered  and  hardened 
by  hard  living  and  hard  service,  and  whose  gar- 
ments and  equipments  were  all  the  worse  for 
wear.  Indeed,  the  partners  from  below  consid- 
ered the  whole  dignity  of  the  company  as  repre- 
sented in  their  persons,  and  conducted  themselves 
in  suitable  style.  They  ascended  the  rivers  in 
great  state,  like  sovereigns  making  a  progress  ; 
or  rather  like  Highland  chieftains  navigating  their 


ASTORIA. 


305 


subject  lakes.  They  were  wrapped  in  rich  furs, 
their  huge  canoes  freighted  with  every  conven- 
ience and  luxury,  and  manned  by  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs,  as  obedient  as  Highland  clansmen.  They 
carried  up  with  them  cooks  and  bakers,  together 
with  delicacies  of  every  kind,  and  abundance  of 
choice  wines  for  the  banquets  which  attended  this 
great  convocation.  Happy  were  they,  too,  if  they 
could  meet  with  some  distinguished  stranger  ; 
above  all,  some  titled  member  of  the  British  no- 
bility, to  accompany  them  on  this  stately  occa- 
sion, and  grace  their  high  solemnities. 

Fort  William,  the  scene  of  this  important  an- 
nual meeting,  was  a  considerable  village  on  the 
banks  of  Lake  Superior.  Here,  in  an  immense 
wooden  building,  was  the  great  council  hall,  as 
also  the  banqueting  chamber,  decorated  with  In- 
dian arms  and  accoutrements,  and  the  trophies  of 
the  fur  trade.  The  house  swarmed  at  this  time 
with  traders  and  voyageurs,  some  from  Montreal, 
bound  to  the  interior  posts  ;  some  from  the  in- 
terior posts,  bound  to  Montreal.  The  councils 
were  held  in  great  state,  for  every  member  felt  as 
if  sitting  in  parliament,  and  every  retainer  and  de- 
pendent looked  up  to  the  assemblage  with  awe, 
as  to  the  house  of  lords.  There  was  a  vast  deal 
of  solemn  deliberation,  and  hard  Scottish  reason- 
ing, with  an  occasional  swell  of  pompous  decla- 
mation. 

These  grave  and  weighty  councils  were  alterna- 
ted by  huge  feasts  and  revels,  like  some  of  the  old 
feasts  described  in  Highland  castles.  The  tables 
in  the  great  banqueting  room  groana^  under  the 
weight  of  game  of  all  kinds  ;  of  venison  from  the 
woods,  and  fish  from  the  lakes,  with  hunters'  deli- 
cacies, such  as  buffaloes'  tongues  and  beavers' 
tails  ;  and  various  luxuries  from  Montreal,  all 
served  up  by  experienced  cooks  brought  for  the 
purpose.  There  was  no  stint  of  generous  wine, 
tor  it  was  a  hard-drinking  period,  a  time  of  loyal 
toasts,  and  bacchanalian  songs,  and  brimming 
bumpers. 

While  the  chiefs  thus  revelled  in  hall,  and  made 
the  rafters  resound  with  bursts  of  loyalty  and  old 
Scottish  songs,  chanted  in  voices  cracked  and 
sharpened  by  the  northern  blast,  their  merriment 
was  echoed  and  prolonged  by  a  mongrel  legion 
of  retainers,  Canadian  voyageurs,  half-breeds,  In- 
dian hunters,  and  vagabond  hangers-on,  who 
feasted  sumptuously  without  on  the  crumbs  that 
fell  from  their  table,  and  made  the  welkin  ring 
with  old  French  ditties,  mingled  with  Indian 
yelps  and  yellings. 

Such  was  the  Northwest  Company  in  its  power- 
ful and  prosperous  days,  when  it  held  a  kind  of 
feudal  sway  over  a  vast  domain  of  lake  and 
forest.  We  are  dwelling  too  long,  perhaps,  upon 
these  individual  pictures,  endeared  to  us  by  the 
associations  of  early  life,  when,  as  yet  a  stripling 
youth,  we  have  sat  at  the  hospitable  boards  of  the 
"  mighty  Northwesters,"  the  lords  of  the  ascend- 
ant at  Montreal,  and  gazed  with  wondering  and 
inexperienced  eye  at  the  baronial  wassailing,  and 
listened  with  astonished  ear  to  their  tales  of  hard- 
ships and  adventures.  It  is  one  object  of  our  task, 
however,  to  present  scenes  of  the  rough  lite  of  the 
wilderness,  and  we  are  tempted  to  fix  these  few 
memorials  of  a  transient  state  of  things  fast  pass- 
ing into  oblivion  ;  for  the  feudal  state  of  Fort 
William  is  at  an  end  ;  its  council-chamber  is  si- 
lent and  deserted  ;  its  banquet-hall  no  longer 
echoes  to  the  burst  of  loyalty,  or  the  "  auld 
world"  ditty  ;  the  lords  of  the  lakes  and  forests 
have  passed  away  ;  and  the  hospitable  magnates 
ot  Montreal — where  are  they  ? 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  success  of  the  Northwest  Company  stimu- 
lated further  enterprise  in  this  opening  and  appar- 
ently boundless  field  of  profit.  The  traffic  of  that 
company  lay  principally  in  the  high  northern  lat- 
itudes, while  there  were  immense  regions  to  the 
south  and  west,  known  to  abound  with  valuable 
peltries  ;  but  which,  as  yet,  had  been  but  little  ex- 
plored by  the  fur  trader.  A  new  association  of 
British  merchants  was  therefore  formed,  to  pros- 
ecute the  trade  in  this  direction.  The  chief  fac- 
tory was  established  at  the  old  emporium  of 
Michilimackinac,  from  which  place  the  associa- 
tion took  its  name,  and  was  commonly  called  the 
Mackinaw  Company.  « 

While  the  Northwesters  continued  to  push  their 
enterprises  into  the  hyperborean  regions  from 
their  stronghold  at  Fort  William,  and  to  hold  al- 
most sovereign  sway  over  the  tribes  of  the  upper 
lakes  and  rivers,  the  Mackinaw  Company  sent 
forth  their  light  perogues  and  barks,  by  Green 
Bay,  Fox  River,  and  the  Wisconsin,  to  that  great 
artery  of  the  west,  the  Mississippi  ;  and  down 
that  stream  to  all  its  tributary  rivers.  In  this  way 
they  hoped  soon  to  monopolize  the  trade  with  all 
the  tribes  on  the  southern  and  western  waters, 
and  of  those  vast  tracts  comprised  in  ancient 
Louisiana. 

The  government  of  the  United  States  began  to 
view  with  a  wary  eye  the  growing  influence  thus 
acquired  by  combinations  of  foreigners  over  the 
aboriginal  tribes  inhabiting  its  territories,  and  en- 
deavored to  counteract  it.  For  this  purpose,  as 
early  as  1796  the  government  sent  out  agents  to 
establish  rival  trading  houses  on  the  frontier,  so 
as  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  Indians,  to  link  their 
interests  and  feelings  with  those  of  the  people  of 
the  United  States,  and  to  divert  this  important 
branch  ot  trade  into  national  channels. 

The  expedient,  however,  was  unsuccessful,  as 
most  commercial  expedients  are  prone  to  be, 
where  the  dull  patronage  of  government  is  count- 
ed upon  to  outvie  the  keen  activity  of  private  en- 
terprise. What  government  failed  to  effect,  how- 
ever, with  all  its  patronage  and  all  its  agents,  was 
at  length  brought  about  by  the  enterprise  and  per- 
severance of  a  single  merchant,  one  of  its  adopted 
citizens  ;  and  this  brings  us  to  speak  of  the  indi- 
vidual whose  enterprise  is  the  especial  subject  of 
the  following  pages  ;  a  man  whose  name  and 
character  are  worthy  of  being  enrolled  in  the  his- 
tory of  commerce,  as  illustrating  its  noblest  aims 
and  soundest  maxims.  A  few  brief  anecdotes  of 
his  early  life,  and  of  the  circumstances  which 
first  determined  him  to  the  branch  of  commerce 
of  which  we  are  treating,  cannot  be  but  interest- 
ing. 

John  Jacob  Astor,  the  individual  in  question, 
was  born  in  the  honest  little  German  village  of 
Waldorf,  near  Heidelberg,  oh  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine.  He  was  brought  up  in  the  simplicity  of 
rural  life,  but,  while  yet  a  mere  stripling,  left  his 
home  and  launched  himself  amid  the  busy  scenes 
of  London,  having  had,  from  his  very  boyhood,  a 
singular  presentiment  that  he  would  ultimately 
arrive  at  great  fortune. 

At  the  close  of  the  American  Revolution  he  was 
still  in  London,  and  scarce  on  the  threshold  of 
active  life.  An  elder  brother  had  been  for  some 
years  resident  in  the  United  States,  and  Mr.  Astor 
determined  to  follow  him,  and  to  seek  his  for- 
tunes in  the  rising  country.  Investing  a  small 
sum  which  he  had  amassed  since  leaving  his  na- 
tive village,  in  merchandise  suited  to  the  Ameri- 


306 


ASTORIA. 


can  market,  he  embarked,  in  the  month  of  No- 
vember, 1783,  in  a  ship  bound  to  Baltimore,  and 
arrived  in  Hampton  Roads  in  the  month  of  Janu- 
ary. The  winter  was  extremely  severe,  and  the 
ship,  with  many  others,  was  detained  by  the  ice 
in  and  about  Chesapeake  Bay  for  nearly  three 
months. 

During  this  period  the  passengers  of  the  vari- 
ous ships  used  occasionally  to  go  on  shore,  and 
mingle  sociably  together.  In  this  way  Mr.  Astor 
became  acquainted  with  a  countryman  of  his,  a 
furrier  by  trade.  Having  had  a  previous  impres- 
sion that  this  might  be  a  lucrative  trade  in  the 
New  World,  he  made  many  inquiries  of  his  new 
acquaintance  on  the  subject,  who  cheerfully  gav« 
hhn  all  the  information  in  his  power  as  to  the 
quality  and  value  of  different  furs,  and  the  mode 
of  carrying  on  the  traffic.  He  subsequently  ac- 
companied him  to  New  York,  and,  by  his  advice, 
Mr.  Astor  was  induced  to  invest  the  proceeds  of 
his  merchandise  in  furs.  With  these  he  sailed 
from  New  York  to  London  in  1784,  disposed  of 
them  advantageously,  made  himself  further  ac- 
quainted with  the  course  of  the  trade,  and  return- 
ed the  same  year  to  New  York,  with  a  view  to  set- 
tle in  the  United  States. 

He  now  devoted  himself  to  the  branch  of  com- 
merce with  which  he  had  thus  casually  been 
made  acquainted.  He  began  his  career,  of  course, 
on  the  narrowest  scale  ;  but  he  brought  to  the 
task  a  persevering  industry,  rigid  economy,  and 
strict  integrity.  To  these  were  added  an  aspir- 
ing spirit  that  always  looked  upward  ;  a  genius 
bold,  fertile,  and  expansive  ;  a  sagacity  quick  to 
grasp  and  convert  every  circumstance  to  its  ad- 
vantage, and  a  singular  and  never-wavering  con- 
fidence of  signal  success.* 

As  yet  trade  in  peltries  was  not  organized  in  the 
United  States,  and  could  not  be  said  to  form  a 
regular  line  of  business.  Furs  and  skins  were 
casually  collected  by  the  country  traders  in  their 
dealings  with  the  Indians  or  the  white  hunters, 
but  the  main  supply  was  derived  from  Canada. 
As  Mr.  Astor' s  means  increased  he  made  annual 
visits  to  Montreal,  where  he  purchased  furs  from 
the  houses  at  that  place  engaged  in  the  trade. 
These  he  shipped  from  Canada  to  London,  no  di- 
rect trade  being  allowed  from  that  colony  to  any 
but  the  mother  country. 

In  1794  or  '95,  a  treaty  with  Great  Britain  re- 
moved the  restrictions  imposed  upon  the  trade 
with  the  colonies,  and  opened  a  direct  commercial 
intercourse  between  Canada  and  the  United 
States.  Mr.  Astor  was  in  London  at  the  time, 
and  immediately  made  a  contract  with  the  agents 
of  the  Northwest  Company  for  furs.  He  was  now 
enabled  to  import  them  from  Montreal  into  the 
United  States  for  the  home  supply,  and  to  be 
shipped  thence  to  different  parts  of  Europe,  as 
well  as  to  China,  which  has  ever  been  the 
best  market,  for  the  richest  and  finest  kinds  of- 
peltry. 

The  treaty  in  question  provided,  likewise,  that 


*  An  instance  of  this  buoyant  confidence,  which  no 
doubt  aided  to  produce  the  success  it  anticipated, 
we  have  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  A.  himself.  While  yet 
almost  a  stranger  in  the  city,  and  in  very  narrow  cir- 
cumstances, he  passed  by  where  a  row  of  houses  had 
just  been  erected  in  Broadway,  and  which,  from  the 
superior  style  of  their  architecture,  were  the  talk  and 
boast  of  the  city.  "I'll  build,  one  day  or  other,  a 
greater  house  than  any  of  these,  in  this  very  street," 
said  he  to  himself.  He  has  accomplished  his  pre- 
diction. 


the  military  posts  occupied  by  the  British  within 
the  territorial  limits  of  the  United  States  should 
be  surrendered.  Accordingly,  Oswego,  Niag- 
ara, Detroit,  Michilimackinac,  and  other  posts 
on  the  American  side  of  the  lakes  were  given  up. 
An  opening  was  thus  made  for  the  American 
merchant  to  trade  on  the  confines  of  Canada,  and 
within  the  territories  of  the  United  States.  After 
an  interval  of  some  years,  about  1807,  Mr.  Astor 
embarked  in  this  trade  on  his  own  account.  His 
capital  and  resources  had  by  this  time  greatly 
augmented,  and  he  had  risen  from  small  begin- 
nings to  take  his  place  among  the  first  merchants 
and  financiers  of  the  country.  His  genius  had 
ever  been  in  advance  of  his  circumstances, 
prompting  him  to  new  and  wide  fields  of  enter- 
prise beyond  the  scope  of  ordinary  merchants. 
With  all  his  enterprise  and  resources,  however, 
he  soon  found  the  power  and  influence  of  the 
Michilimackinac  (or  Mackinaw)  Company  too 
great  for  him,  having  engrossed  most  of  the  trade 
within  the  American  borders. 

A  plan  had  to  be  devised  to  enable  him  to  enter 
into  successful  competition.  He  was  aware  of 
the  wish  of  the  American  government,  already 
stated,  that  the  fur  trade  within  its  boundaries 
should  be  in  the  hands  of  American  citizens,  and 
of  the  ineffectual  measures  it  had  taken  to  accom- 
plish that  object.  He  now  offered,  if  aided  and 
protected  by  government,  to  turn  the  whole  of 
that  trade  into  American  channels.  He  was  in- 
vited to  unfold  his  plans  to  government,  and  they 
were  warn%r  approved,  though  the  executive  could 
give  no  direct  aid. 

Thus  countenanced,  however,  he  obtained,  in 
1809,  a  charter  from  the  Legislature  of  the  State 
of  New  York,  incorporating  a  company  under  the 
name  of  "  The  American  Fur  Company,"  with  a 
capital  of  one  million  of  dollars,  wilh  the  privi- 
lege of  increasing  it  to  two  millions.  The  capital 
was  furnished  by  himself — he,  in  fact,  constituted 
the  company  ;  for,  though  he  had  a  board  of  di- 
rectors, they  were  merely  nominal  ;  the  whole 
business  was  conducted  on  his  plans,  and  with 
his  resources,  but  he  preferred  to  do  so  under  the 
imposing  and  formidable  aspect  of  a  corporation, 
rather  than  in  his  individual  name,  and  his  policy 
was  sagacious  and  effective. 

As  the  Mackinaw  Company  still  continued  its 
rivalry,  and  as  the  fur  trade  would  not  advanta- 
geously admit  oi  competition,  he  made  a  new  ar- 
rangement in  1811,  by  which,  in  conjunction  with 
certain  partners  of  the  Northwest  Company,  and 
other  persons  engaged  in  the  fur  trade,  he  bought 
out  the  Mackinaw  Company,  and  merged  that  and 
the  American  Fur  Company  into  a  new  associa- 
tion, to  be  called  "The  Southwest  Company." 
This  he  likewise  did  with  the  privity  and  appro- 
bation of  the  American  government. 

By  this  arrangement  Mr.  Astor  became  propri- 
etor of  one  half  of  the  Indian  establishments  and 
goods  which  the  Mackinaw  Company  had  within 
the  territory  of  the  Indian  country  in  the  United 
States,  and  it  was  understood  that  the  whole  was 
to  be  surrendered  into  his  hands  at  the  expiration 
of  five  years,  on  condition  that  the  American 
Company  would  not  trade  within  the  British  do- 
minions. 

Unluckily,  the  war  which  broke  out  in  1812  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  sus- 
pended the  association  ;  and  after  the  war  it  was 
entirely  dissolved  ;  Congress  having  passed  a  law 
prohibiting  British  fur  traders  from  prosecuting 
their  enterprises  within  the  territories  of  the 
United  States. 


ASTORIA. 


307 


CHAPTER  III. 

WHILE  the  various  companies  we  have  noticed 
were  pushing  their  enterprises  far  and  wide  in  the 
wilds  of  Canada,  and  along  the  course  of  the 
great  western  waters,  other  adventurers,  intent 
on  the  same  objects,  were  traversing  the  watery 
wastes  of  the  Pacific  and  skirting  the  northwest 
coast  of  America.  The  last  voyage  of  that  re- 
nowned but  unfortunate  discoverer,  Captain 
Cook,  had  made  known  the  vast  quantities  of  the 
sea-otter  to  be  found  along  that  coast,  and  the 
immense  prices  to  be  obtained  for  its  fur  in 
China.  It  was  as  if  a  new  gold  coast  had  been 
discovered.  Individuals  from  various  countries 
dashed  into  this  lucrative  traffic,  so  that  in  the 
year  1792  there  were  twenty-one  vessels  under 
different  flags,  plying  along  the  coast  and  trading 
with  the  natives.  The  greater  part  of  them  were 
American,  and  owned  by  Boston  merchants. 
They  generally  remained  on  the  coast  and  about 
the  adjacent  seas  for  two  years,  carrying  on  as 
wandering  and  adventurous  a  commerce  on  the 
water  as  did  the  traders  and  trappers  on  land. 
Their  trade  extended  along  the  whole  coast  from 
California  to  the  high  northern  latitudes.  They 
would  run  in  near  shore,  anchor,  and  wait  for  the 
natives  to  come  off  in  their  canoes  with  peltries. 
The  trade  exhausted  at  one  place,  they  would  up 
anchor  and  off  to  another.  In  this  way  they 
would  consume  the  summer,  and  when  autumn 
came  on,  would  run  down  to  the  Sandwich 
Islands  and  winter  in  some  friendly  and  plentiful 
harbor.  In  the  following  year  they  would  re- 
sume their  summer  trade,  commencing  at  Cali- 
fornia and  proceeding  north  ;  and,  having  in  the 
course  of  the  two  seasons  collected  a  sufficient 
cargo  of  peltries,  would  make  the  best  of  their 
way  to  China.  Here  they  would  sell  their  lurs, 
take  in  teas,  nankeens,  and  other  merchandise, 
and  return  to  Boston,  after  an  absence  of  two  or 
three  years. 

The  people,  however,  who'  entered  most  exten- 
sively and  effectively  in  the  fur  trade  of  the 
Pacific,  were  the  Russians.  Instead  of  making 
casual  voyages,  in  transient  ships,  they  established 
regular  trading  houses  in  the  high  latitudes,  along 
the  northwest  coast  of  America,  and  upon  the 
chain  of  the  Aleutian  Islands  between  Kamt- 
schatka  and  the  promontory  of  Alaska. 

To  promote  and  protect  these  enterprises  a 
company  was  incorporated  by  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment with  exclusive  privileges,  and  a  capital  of 
two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  pounds  sterling  ; 
and  the  sovereignty  of  that  part  of  the  American 
continent  along  the  coast  of  which  the  posts  had 
been  established,  was  claimed  by  the  Russian 
crown,  on  the  plea  that  the  land  had  been  discov- 
ered and  occupied  by  its  subjects. 

As  China  was  the  grand  mart  for  the  furs  col- 
lected in  these  quarters,  the  Russians  had  the  ad- 
vantage over  their  competitors  in  the  trade.  The 
latter  had  to  take  their  peltries  to  Canton,  which, 
however,  was  a  mere  receiving  mart,  from 
whence  they  had  to  be  distributed  over  the  inte- 
rior of  the  empire  and  sent  to  the  northern  parts, 
where  there  was  the  chief  consumption.  The 
Russians,  on  the  contrary,  carried  their  furs,  by 
a  shorter  voyage,  directly  to  the  northern  parts  of 
the  Chinese  empire  ;  thus  being  able  to  afford 
them  in  the  market  without  the  additional  cost  of 
internal  transportation. 

We  come  now  to  the  immediate  field  of  opera- 
tion of  the  great  enterprise  we  have  undertaken  to 
illustrate. 


Among  the  American  ships  which  traded  along 
the  northwest  coast  in  1792,  was  the  Columbia, 
Captain  Gray;  of  Boston.  In  the  course  of  her 
voyage  she  discovered  the  mouth  of  a  large  river 
in  lat.  46°  19'  north.  Entering  it  with  some  diffi- 
culty, on  account  of  sand-bars  and  breakers,  she 
came  to  anchor  in  a  spacious  bay.  A  boat  was 
well  manned,  and  sent  on  shore  to  a  village  on 
the  beach,  but  all  the  inhabitants  fled  excepting 
the  aged  and  infirm.  The  kind  manner  in  which 
these  were  treated,  and  the  presents  given  to  them, 
gradually  lured  back  the  others,  and  a  friendly 
intercourse  took  place.  They  had  never  seen  a 
ship  or  a  white  man.  When  they  had  first  de- 
scried the  Columbia,  they  had  supposed  it  a  float- 
ing island  ;  then  some  monster  of  the  deep  ;  but 
when  they  saw  the  boat  putting  for  shore  with 
human  beings  on  board,  they  considered  them 
cannibals  sent  by  the  Great  Spirit  to  ravage  the 
country  and  devour  the  inhabitants.  Captain 
Gray  did  not  ascend  the  river  farther  than  the  bay 
in  question,  which  continues  to  bear  his  name. 
After  putting  to  sea  he  fell  in  with  the  cele- 
brated discoverer,  Vancouver,  and  informed  him 
of  his  discovery,  furnishing  him  with  a  chart 
which  he  had  made  of  the  river.  Vancouver  vis- 
ited the  river,  and  his  lieutenant,  Broughton,  ex- 
plored it  by  the  aid  of  Captain  Gray's  chart  ;  as- 
cending it  upward  of  one  hundred  miles,  until 
within  view  of  a  snowy  mountain,  to  which  he 
gave  the  name  of  Mount  Hood,  which  it  still  re- 
tains. 

The  existence  of  this  river,  however,  was  known 
long  before  the  visits  of  Gray  and  Vancouver,  but 
the  information  concerning  it  was  vague  and  in- 
definite, being  gathered  from  the  reports  of  the 
Indians.  It  was  spoken  of  by  travellers  as  the 
Oregon,  and  as  the  great  river  of  the  west.  A 
Spanish  ship  is  said  to  have  been  wrecked  at  the 
mouth,  several  of  the  crew  of  which  lived  for 
some  time  among  the  natives.  The  Columbia, 
however,  is  believed  to  be  the  first  ship  that  made 
a  regular  discovery  and  anchored  within  its 
waters,  and  it  has  since  generally  borne  the  name 
of  that  vessel. 

As  early  as  1763,  shortly  after  the  acquisition  of 
the  Canadas  by  Great  Britain,  Captain  Jonathan 
Carver,  who  had  been  in  the  British  provincial 
army,  projected  a  journey  across  the  continent 
between  the  forty-third  and  forty-sixth  degrees  of 
northern  latitude,  to  the  shores  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean.  His  objects  were  to  ascertain  the  breadth 
of  the  continent  at  its  broadest  part,  and  to  de- 
termine on  some  place  on  the  shores  of  the  Pa- 
cific where  government  might  establish  a  post  to 
facilitate  the  discovery  of  a  northwest  passage, 
or  a  communication  between  Hudson's  Bay  and 
the  Pacific  Ocean.  This  place  he  presumed  would 
be  somewhere  about  the  Straits  of  Annian,  at 
which  point  he  supposed  the  Oregon  disembogued 
itself.  It  was  his  opinion  also  that  a  settlement 
on  this  extremity  of  America  would  disclose  new 
sources  of  trade,  promote  many  useful  discoveries, 
and  open  a  more  direct  communication  with 
China  and  the  English  settlements  in  the  East  In- 
dies, than  that  by  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  or  the 
Straits  of  Magellan.*  This  enterprising  and  in- 
trepid traveller  was  twice  baffled  in  individual  ef- 
forts to  accomplish  his  great  journey.  In  1774 
he  was  joined  in  the  scheme  by  Richard  Whit- 
worth,  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  a  man  of 
wealth.  Their  enterprise  was  projected  on  a 
broad  and  bold  plan.  They  were  to  take  with 


*  Carver's  Travels,  Introd.  b.  iii.     Philad.  1796. 


308 


ASTORIA. 


them  fifty  or  sixty  men,  artificers  and  mariners. 
With  these  they  were  to  make  their  way  up  one 
of  the  branches  of  the  Missouri,  explore  the 
mountains  for  the  source  of  the  Oregon,  or  river 
of  the  west,  and  sail  down  that  river  to  its  sup- 
posed exit  near  the  Straits  of  Annian.  Here  they 
were  to  erect  a  fort,  and  build  the  vessels  neces- 
sary to  carry  their  discoveries  by  sea  into  effect. 
Their  plan  had  the  sanction  of  the  British  gov- 
ernment, and  grants  and  other  requisites  were 
nearly  completed  when  the  breaking  out  of  the 
American  Revolution  once  more  defeated  the 
undertaking.* 

The  expedition  of  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie  in 
1793,  across  the  continent  to  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
which  he  reached  in  lat.  52°  20'  48",  again  sug- 
gested the  possibility  of  linking  together  the  trade 
of  both  sides  of  the  continent.  In  lat.  52°  30'  he 
had  descended  a  river  for  some  distance  which 
flowed  toward  the  south,  and  was  called  by 
the  natives  Tacoutche  Tesse,  and  which  he  erro- 
neously supposed  to  be  the  Columbia.  It  was 
afterward  ascertained  that  it  emptied  itself  in  lat. 
49°,  whereas  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  is  about 
three  degrees  farther  south. 

When  Mackenzie  some  years  subsequently  pub- 
lished an  account  of  his  expeditions,  he  suggested 
the  policy  of  opening  an  intercourse  between  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans,  and  forming  regular 
establishments  through  the  interior  and  at  both 
extremes,  as  well  as  along  the  coasts  and  islands. 
By  this  means,  he  observed,  the  entire  command 
of  the  fur  trade  of  North  America  might  be  ob- 
tained from  lat.  48°  north  to  the  pole,  excepting 
that  portion  held  by  the  Russians,  for  as  to  the 
American  adventurers  who  had  hitherto  enjoyed 
the  traffic  along  the  northwest  coast,  they  would 
instantly  disappear,  he  added,  before  a  well  regu- 
lated trade. 

A  scheme  of  this  kind,  however,  was  too  vast 
and  hazardous  tor  individual  enterprise  ;  it  could 
only  be  undertaken  by  a  company  under  the  sanc- 
tion and  protection  of  a  government  ;  and  as 
there  might  be  a  clashing  of  claims  between  the 
Hudson's  Bay  and  Northwest  Company,  the  one 
holding  by  right  of  charter,  the  other  by  right  of 
possession,  he  proposed  that  the  two  companies 
should  coalesce  in  this  great  undertaking.  The 
long-cherished  jealousies  of  these  two  companies, 
however,  were  too  deep  and  strong  to  allow  them 
to  listen  to  such  counsel. 

In  the  mean  time  the  attention  of  the  American 
government  was  attracted  to  the  subject,  and  the 
memorable  expedition  under  Messrs.  Lewis  and 
Clarke  fitted  out.  These  gentlemen,  in  1804,  ac- 
complished the  enterprise  which  had  been  pro- 
jected by  Carver  and  Whitworth  in  1774.  They 
ascended  the  Missouri,  passed  through  the  stu- 
pendous gates  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  hitherto 
unknown  to  white  men  ;  discovered  and  explored 
the  upper  waters  of  the  Columbia,  and  followed 
that  river  down  to  its  mouth,  where  their  country- 
man, Gray,  had  anchored  about  twelve  years  pre- 
viously. Here  they  passed  the  winter,  and  re- 
turned across  the  mountains  in  the  following 
spring.  The  reports  published  by  them  of  their 
expedition  demonstrated  the  practicability  of  es- 
tablishing a  line  of  communication  across  the 
continent,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

It  was  then  that  the  idea  presented  itself  to  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Astor,  of  grasping  with  his  individ- 
ual hand  this  great  enterprise,  which  for  years  had 
been  dubiously  yet  desirously  contemplated  by 

*  Carver's  Travels,  p.  360.     Philad.  1796. 


powerful  associations  and  maternal  governments. 
For  some  time  he  revolved  the  idea  in  his  mind, 
gradually  extending  and  maturing  his  plans  as  his 
means  of  executing  them  augmented.  The  main 
feature  of  his  scheme  was  to  establish  a  line  of 
trading  posts  along  the  Missouri  and  the  Colum- 
bia, to  the  mouth  of  the  latter,  where  was  to  be 
founded  the  chief  trading  house  or  mart.  In- 
ferior posts  would  be  established  in  the  interior, 
and  on  all  the  tributary  streams  of  the  Columbia, 
to  trade  with  the  Indians  ;  these  posts  would 
draw  their  supplies  from  the  main  establishment, 
and  bring  to  it  the  peltries  they  collected.  Coast- 
ing craft  would  be  built  and  fitted  out,  also  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia,  to  trade,  at  favorable 
seasons,  all  along  the  northwest  coast,  and  re- 
turn, with  the  proceeds  of  their  voyages,  to  this 
place  of  deposit.  Thus  all  the  Indian  trade,  both 
of  the  interior  and  the  coast,  would  converge  to 
this  point,  and  thence  derive  its  sustenance. 

A  ship  was  to  be  sent  annually  from  New  York 
to  this  main  establishment  with  reinforcements 
and  supplies,  and  with  merchandise  suited  to  the 
trade.  It  would  take  on  board  the  furs  collected 
during  the  preceding  year,  carry  them  to  Can- 
ton, invest  the  proceeds  in  the  rich  merchandise 
of  China,  and  return  thus  frieghted  to  New  York. 

As,  in  extending  the  American  trade  along  the 
coast  to  the  northward,  it  might  be  brought  into 
the  vicinity  of  the  Russian  Fur  Company,  and 
produce  a  hostile  rivalry,  it  was  part  of  the  plan 
of  Mr.  Astor  to  conciliate  the  good-will  of  that 
company  by  the  most  amicable  and  beneficial  ar- 
rangements. The  Russian  establishment  was 
chiefly  dependent  lor  its  supplies  upon  transient 
trading  vessels  from  the  United  States.  These 
vessels,  however,  were  often  of  more  harm  than 
advantage.  Being  owned  by  private  adventurers 
or  casual  voyagers,  who  cared  only  for  present 
profit,  and  had  no  interest  in  the  permanent  pros- 
perity of  the  trade,  they  were  reckless  in  their 
dealings  with  the  natives,  and  made  no  scruple -of 
supplying  them  with  firearms.  In  this  way  sev- 
eral fierce  tribes  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Russian 
posts,  or  within  the  range  of  their  trading  excur- 
sions, were  furnished  with  deadly  means  of  war- 
fare, and  rendered  troublesome  and  dangerous 
neighbors. 

The  Russian  government  had  made  representa- 
tions to  that  of  the  United  States  of  these  mal- 
practices on  the  part  of  its  citizens,  and  urged  to 
have  this  traffic  in  arms  prohibited  ;  but,  as  it 
did  not  infringe  any  municipal  law,  our  govern- 
ment could  not  interfere.  Yet  still  it  regarded, 
with  solicitude,  a  traffic  which,  if  persisted  in, 
might  give  offence  to  Russia,  at  that  time  almost 
the  only  power  friendly  to  us.  In  this  dilemma 
the  government  had  applied  to  Mr.  Astor,  as  one 
conversant  in  this  branch  of  trade,  for  informa- 
tion that  might  point  out  a  way  to  remedy  the 
evil.  This  circumstance  had  suggested  to  him 
the  idea  of  supplying  the  Russian  establishment 
regularly  by  means  of  the  annual  ship  that  should 
visit  the  settlement  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia 
(or  Oregon)  ;  by  this  means  the  casual  trading 
vessels  would  be  excluded  from  those  parts  of  the 
coast  where  their  malpractices  were  so  injurious 
to  the  Russians. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  the  enterprise  project- 
ed by  Mr.  Astor,  but  which  continually  expanded 
in  his  mind.  Indeed  it  is  due  to  him  to  say  that 
he  was  not  actuated  by  mere  motives  of  individ- 
ual profit.  He  was  already  wealthy  beyond  the 
ordinary  desires  of  man,  but  he  now  aspired  to 
that  honorable  fame  which  is  awarded  to  men  of 


ASTORIA. 


309 


similar  scope  of  mind,  who  by  their  great  com- 
mercial enterprises  have  enriched  nations,  peopled 
wildernesses,  and  extended  the  bounds  of  empire. 
He  considered  his  projected  establishment  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  as  the  emporium  to  an  im- 
mense commerce  ;  as  a  colony  that  would  form 
the  germ  of  a  wide  civilization  ;  that  would,  in 
tact,  carry  the  American  population  across  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  spread  it  along  the  shores 
of  the  Pacific,  as  it  already  animated  the  shores 
of  the  Atlantic. 

As  Mr.  Astor,  by  the  magnitude  of  his  commer- 
cial and  financial  relations,  and  the  vigor  and 
scope  ol  his  sell-taught  mind,  had  elevated  him- 
self into  the  consideration  of  government  and  the 
communion  and  correspondence  with  leading 
statesmen,  he,  at  an  early  period,  communicated 
his  schemes  to  President  Jefferson,  soliciting  the 
countenance  of  government.  How  highly  they 
were  esteemed  by  that  eminent  man,  we  may 
judge  by  the  following  passage,  written  by  him 
some  time  afterward  to  Mr.  Astor. 

"  I  remember  well  having  invited  your  propo- 
sition on  this  subject,*  and  encouraged  it  with 
the  assurance  of  every  facility  and  protection 
which  the  government  could  properly  afford.  I 
considered,  as  a  great  public  acquisition,  the  com- 
mencement of  a  settlement  on  that  point  of  the 
western  coast  of  America,  and  looked  forward 
with  gratification  to  the  time  when  its  descend- 
ants should  have  spread  themselves  through  the 
whole  length  of  that  coast,  covering  it  with  free 
and  independent  Americans,  unconnected  with 
us  but  by  the  ties  of  blood  and  interest,  and  en- 
joying like  us  the  rights  of  self-government." 

The  cabinet  joined  with  Jefferson  in  warm  ap- 
probation of  the  plan,  and  held  out  assurance  of 
every  protection  that  could,  consistently  with 
general  policy,  be  afforded. 

Mr.  Astor  now  prepared  to  carry  his  scheme 
into  prompt  execution.  He  had  some  competi- 
tion, however,  to  apprehend  and  guard  against. 
The  Northwest  Company,  acting  feebly  and  par- 
tially upon  the  suggestions  of  its  former  agent,  Sir 
Alexander  Mackenzie,  had  pushed  one  or  two  ad- 
vanced trading  posts  across  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, into  a  tract  of  country  visited  by  that  en- 
terprising traveller,  and  since  named  New  Cal- 
edonia. This  tract  lay  about  two  degrees  north 
of  the  Columbia,  and  intervened  between  the  ter- 
ritories of  the  United  States  and  those  of  Russia. 
Its  length  was  about  five  hundred  and  fifty  miles, 
and  its  breadth,  from  the  mountains  to  the  Pa- 
cific, from  three  hundred  to  three  hundred  and 
fifty  geographical  miles. 

Should  the  Northwest  Company  persist  in  ex- 
tending their  trade  in  that  quarter,  their  competi- 
tion might  be  of  serious  detriment  to  the  plans  of 
Mr.  Astor.  It  is  true  they  would  contend  with 
him  to  a  vast  disadvantage,  from  the  checks  and 
restrictions  to  which  they  were  subjected.  They 
were  straitened  on  one  side  by  the  rivalry  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  ;  then  they  had  no  good 
post  on  the  Pacific  where  they  could  receive  sup- 
plies by  sea  for  their  establishments  beyond  the 
mountains  ;  nor,  if  they  had  one,  could  they  ship 
their  furs  thence  to  China,  that  great  mart  for  pel- 


*  On  this  point  Mr.  Jefferson's  memory  was  in 
error.  The  proposition  alluded  to  was  the  one,  already 
mentioned,  for  the  establishment  of  an  American  Fur 
Company  in  the  Atlantic  States.  The  great  enter- 
prise beyond  the  mountains,  that  was  to  sweep  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific,  originated  in  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Astor,  and  was  proposed  by  him  to  the  government. 


tries  ;  the  Chinese  trade  being  comprised  in  the 
monopoly  of  the  East  India  Company.  Their 
post  beyond  the  mountains  had  to  be  supplied  in 
yearly  expeditions,  like  caravans,  from  Montreal, 
and  the  furs  conveyed  back  in  the  same  way,  by 
long,  precarious,  and  expensive  routes,  across  the 
continent.  Mr.  Astor,  on  the  contrary,  would  be 
able  to  supply  his  proposed  establishment  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  by  sea,  and  to  ship  the 
furs  collected  there  directly  to  China,  so  as  to 
undersell  the  Northwest  Company  in  the  great 
Chinese  market. 

Still,  the  competition  of  two  rival  companies 
west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  could  not  but  prove 
detrimental  to  both,  and  fraught  with  those  evils, 
both  to  the  trade  and  to  the  Indians,  that  had  at- 
tended similar  rivalries  in  the  Canadas.  To  pre- 
vent any  contest  of  the  kind,  therefore,  he  made 
known  his  plan  to  the  agents  of  the  Northwest 
Company,  and  proposed  to  interest  them,  to  the 
extent  or  one  third,  in  the  trade  thus  to  be  opened. 
Some  correspondence  and  negotiation  ensued. 
The  company  were  aware  of  the  advantages 
which  would  be  possessed  by  Mr.  Astor  should 
he  be  able  to  carry  his  scheme  into  effect  ;  but 
they  anticipated  a  monopoly  of  the  trade  beyond 
the  mountains  by  their  establishments  in  New 
Caledonia,  and  were  loath  to  share  it  with  an  in- 
dividual who  had  already  proved  a  formidable 
competitor  in  the  Atlantic  trade.  They  hoped, 
too,  by  a  timely  move,  to  secure  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  before  Mr.  Astor  would  be  able  to  put 
his  plans  into  operation  ;  and,  that  key  to  the  in- 
ternal trade  once  in  their  possession,  the  whole 
country  would  be  at  their  command.  After  some 
negotiation  and  delay,  therefore,  they  declined 
the  proposition  that  had  been  made  to  them,  but 
subsequently  dispatched  a  party  for  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  to  establish  a  post  there  before  any 
expedition  sent  out  by  Mr.  Astor  might  arrive. 

In  the  mean  time  Mr.  Astor  finding  his  over- 
tures rejected,  proceeded  fearlessly  to  execute  his 
enterprise  in  face  of  the  whole  power  of  the  North- 
west Company.  His  main  establishment  once 
planted  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  he  looked 
with  confidence  to  ultimate  success.  Being  able 
to  reinforce  and  supply  it  amply  by  sea,  he  would 
push  his  interior  posts  in  every  direction  up  the 
rivers  and  along  the  coast  ;  supplying  the  natives 
at  a  lower  rate,  and  thus  gradually  obliging  the 
Northwest  Company  to  give  up  the  competition, 
relinquish  New  Caledonia,  and  retire  to  the  other 
side  of  the  mountains.  He  would  then  have  pos- 
session of  the  trade,  not  merely  of  the  Columbia 
and  its  tributaries,  but  of  the  regions  farther 
north,  quite  to  the  Russian  possessions.  Such 
was  a  part  of  his  brilliant  and  comprehensive 
plan. 

He  now  proceeded,  with  all  diligence,  to  pro- 
cure proper  agents  and  coadjutors,  habituated  to 
the  Indian  trade  and  to  the  life  of  the  wilderness. 
Among  the  clerks  of  the  Northwest  Company 
were  several  of  great  capacity  and  experience, 
who  had  served  out  their  probationary  terms,  but 
who,  either  through  lack  of  interest  and  .influence, 
or  a  want  of  vacancies,  had  not  been  promoted. 
They  were  consequently  much  dissatisfied,  and 
ready  for  any  employment  in  which  their  talents 
and  acquirements  might  be  turned  to  better  ac- 
count. 

Mr.  Astor  made  his  overtures  to  several  of 
these  persons,  and  three  of  them  entered  into 
his  views.  One  of  these,  Mr.  Alexander  M'Kay, 
had  accompanied  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie  in 
both  of  his  expeditions  to  the  northwest  coast  of 


310 


ASTORIA. 


America  in  1789  and  1793.  The  other  two  were 
Duncan  M'Dougal  and  Donald  M'Kenzie.  To 
these  were  subsequently  added  Mr.  Wilson  Price 
Hunt,  of  New  Jersey.  As  this  gentleman  was  a 
native  born  citizen  of  the  United  States,  a  person 
'  of  great  probity  and  worth,  he  was  selected  by 
Mr.  Astor  to  be  his  chief  agent,  and  to  represent 
him  in  the  contemplated  establishment. 

On  the  23d  of  June,  1810,  articles  of  agreement 
were  entered  into  between  Mr.  Astor  and  those 
four  gentlemen,  acting  for  themselves  and  for  the 
several  persons  who  had  already  agreed  to  be- 
come, or  should  thereafter  become  associated 
under  the  firm  of  "  The  Pacific  Fur  Company." 

According  to  these  articles  Mr.  Astor  was  to 
be  at  the  head  of  the  company,  and  to  manage  its 
affairs  in  New  York.  He  was  to  furnish  vessels, 
goods,  provisions,  arms,  ammunition,  and  all 
other  requisites  for  the  enterprise  at  first  cost  and 
charges,  provided  that  they  did  not,  at  any  time, 
involve  an  advance  of  more  than  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars. 

The  stock  of  the  company  was  to  be  divided 
into  a  hundred  equal  shares,  with  the  profits  ac- 
cruing thereon.  Fifty  shares  were  to  be  at  the 
disposition  of  Mr.  Astor,  and  the  other  fifty  to  be 
divided  among  the  partners  and  their  associates. 

Mr.  Astor  was  to  have  the  privilege  of  intro- 
ducing other  persons  into  the  connection  as  part- 
ners, two  of  whom,  at  least,  should  be  conversant 
with  the  Indian  trade,  and  none  of  them  entitled 
to  more  than  three  shares. 

A  general  meeting  of  the  company  was  to  be 
held  annually  at  Columbia  River,  for  the  investi- 
gation and  regulation  of  its  affairs  ;  at  which 
absent  members  might  be  represented,  and  might 
vote  by  proxy  under  certain  specified  conditions. 

The  association,  if  successful,  was  to  continue 
for  twenty  years  ;  but  the  parties  had  full  power 
to  abandon  and  dissolve  it  within  the  first  five 
years,  should  it  be  found  unprofitable.  For  this 
term  Mr.  Astor  covenanted  to  bear  all  the  loss 
that  might  be  incurred  ;  after  which  it  was  to  be 
borne  by  all  the  partners,  in  proportion  to  their 
respective  shares. 

The  parties  of  the  second  part  were  to  execute 
faithfully  such  duties  as  might  be  assigned  to 
them  by  a  majority  of  the  company  on  the  north- 
west coast,  and  to  repair  to  such  place  or  places 
as  the  majority  might  direct. 

An  agent,  appointed  for  the  term  of  five  years, 
was  to  reside  at  the  principal  establishment  on 
the  northwest  coast,  and  Wilson  Price  Hunt  was 
the  one  chosen  for  the  first  term.  Should  the  in- 
terests of  the  concern  at  any  time  require  his  ab- 
sence, a  person  was  to  be  appointed,  in  general 
meeting,  to  take  his  place. 

Such  were  the  leading  conditions  of  this  associ- 
ation ;  we  shall  now  proceed  to  relate  the  various 
hardy  and  eventful  expeditions,  by  sea  and  land, 
to  which  it  gave  rise. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  prosecuting  his  great  scheme  of  commerce 
and  colonization,  two  expeditions  were  devised  by 
Mr.  Astor,  one  by  sea,  the  other  by  land.  The 
former  was  to  carry  out  the  people,  stores,  am- 
munition, and  merchandise  requisite  for  establish- 
ing a  fortified  trading  post  at  the  mouth  of 
Columbia  River.  The  latter,  conducted  by  Mr. 
Hunt,  was  to  proceed  up  the  Missouri,  and 
across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  to  the  same  point ; 


exploring  a  line  of  communication  across  the 
continent,  and  noting  the  places  where  interior 
trading  posts  might  be  established.  The  expedi- 
tion by  sea  is  the  one  which  comes  first  under 
consideration. 

A  fine  ship  was  provided,  called  the  Tonquin, 
of  two  hundred  and  ninety  tons  burden,  mount- 
ing ten  guns,  with  a  crew  of  twenty  men.  She 
carried  an  assortment  of  merchandise  for  trading 
with  the  natives  of  the  seaboard  and  of  the  in- 
terior, together  with  the  frame  of  a  schooner,  to 
be  employed  in  the  coasting  trade.  Seeds  also 
were  provided  for  the  cultivation  of  the  soil,  and 
nothing  was  neglected  for  the  necessary  supply 
of  the  establishment.  The  command  of  the  ship 
was  intrusted  to  Jonathan  Thorn,  of  New  York, 
a  lieutenant  in  the  United  States  Navy,  on  leave 
of  absence.  He  was  a  man  of  courage  and  firm- 
ness who  had  distinguished  himself  in  our  Tripol- 
itan  war,  and,  from  being  accustomed  to  naval 
discipline,  was  considered  by  Mr.  Astor  as  well 
fitted  to  take  charge  of  an  expedition  of  the  kind. 
Four  of  the  partners  were  to  embark  in  the  ship, 
namely,  Messrs.  M'Kay,  M'Dougal,  David  Stuart, 
and  his  nephew,  Robert  Stuart.  Mr.  M'Dougal 
was  empowered  by  Mr.  Astor  to  act  as  his  proxy, 
in  the  absence  of  Mr.  Hunt,  to  vote  for  him  and  in 
his  name,  on  any  question  that  might  come  be- 
fore any  meeting  of  the  persons  interested  in  the 
voyage. 

Besides  the  partners,  there  were  twelve  clerks  to 
go  out  in  the  ship,  several  of  them  natives  of 
Canada,  who  had  some  experience  in  Indian 
trade. .  They  were  bound  to  the  service  of  the 
company  for  five  years,  at  the  rate  of  one  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  payable  at  the  expiration  of  the 
term,  and  an  annual  equipment  of  clothing  to 
the  amount  of  forty  dollars.  In  case  of  ill  con- 
duct they  were  liable  to  forfeit  their  wages  and  be 
dismissed  ;  but,  should  they  acquit  themselves 
well,  the  confident  expectation  was  held  out  to 
them  of  promotion,  and  partnership.  Their  in- 
terests were  thus,  to  some  extent,  identified  with 
those  of  the  company. 

Several  artisans  were  likewise  to  sail  in  the 
ship,  for  the  supply  of  the  colony  ;  but  the  most 
peculiar  and  characteristic  part  of  this  motley 
embarkation  consisted  of  thirteen  Canadian  "  voy- 
ageurs,"  who  had  enlisted  for  five  years.  As  this 
class  of  functionaries  will  continually  recur  in  the 
course  of  the  following  narrations,  and  as  they 
form  one  of  those  distinct  and  strongly  marked 
castes  or  orders  of  people  springing  up  in  this 
vast  continent  out  of  geographical  circumstances, 
or  the  varied  pursuits,  habitudes,  and  origins  of 
its  population,  we  shall  sketch  a  few  of  their  char- 
acteristics for  the  information  of  the  reader. 

The  "  voyageurs"  form  a  kind  of  confraternity 
in  the  Canadas,  like  the  arrieros,  or  carriers  of 
Spain,  and,  like  them,  are  employed  in  long  in- 
ternal expeditions  of  travel  and  traffic  :  with  this 
difference,  that  the  arrieros  travel  by  land,  the 
voyageurs  by  water  ;  the  former  with  mules  and 
horses,  the  latter  with  batteaux  and  canoes.  The 
voyageurs  may  be  said  to  have  sprung  up  out  of 
the  fur  trade,  having  originally  been  employed  by 
the  early  French  merchants  in  their  trading  ex- 
peditions through  the  labyrinth  of  rivers  and 
lakes  of  the  boundless  interior.  They  were  co- 
eval with  the  coureurs  des  bois,  or  rangers  of  the 
woods,  already  noticed,  and,  like  them,  in  the  in- 
tervals of  their  long,  arduous,  and  laborious  expe- 
ditions, were  prone  to  pass  their  time  in  idleness 
and  revelry  about  the  trading  posts  or  settlements, 
squandering  their  hard  earnings  in  heedless  con- 


ASTORIA. 


311 


viviality,  and  rivalling  their  neighbors,  the  In- 
dians, in  indolent  indulgence  and  an  imprudent 
disregard  of  the  morrow. 

When  Canada  passed  under  British  domina- 
tion, and  the  old  French  trading  houses  were 
broken  up,  the  voyageurs,  like  the  coureurs  des 
bois,  were  for  a  time  disheartened  and  disconso- 
late, and  with  difficulty  could  reconcile  them- 
selves to  the  service  of  the  new-comers,  so  differ- 
ent in  habits,  manners,  and  language  from  their 
former  employers.  By  degrees,  however,  they 
became  accustomed  to  the  change,  and  at  length 
came  to  consider  the  British  fur  traders,  and  es- 
pecially the  members  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
as  the  legitimate  lords  of  creation. 

The  dress  of  these  people  is  generally  half  civil- 
ized, half  savage.  They  wear  a  capot  or  surcoat, 
made  of  a  blanket,  a  striped  cotton  shirt,  cloth 
trowsers,  or  leathern  leggins,  moccasons  of  deer- 
skin, and  a  belt  of  variegated  worsted,  from  which 
are  suspended  the  knife,  tobacco-pouch,  and  other 
implements.  Their  language  is  of  the  same  piebald 
character,  being  a  French  patois,  embroidered 
with  Indian  and  English  words  and  phrases. 

The  lives  of  the  voyageurs  are  passed  in  wild 
and  extensive  rovings,  in  the  service  of  individ- 
uals, but  more  especially  of  the  fur  traders.  They 
are  generally  of  French  descent,  and  inherit  much 
of  the  gayety  and  lightness  of  heart  of  their  an- 
cestors, being  full  of  anecdote  and  song,  and  ever 
ready  for  the  dance.  They  inherit,  too,  a  fund  of 
civility  and  complaisance  ;  and  instead  of  that 
hardness  and  grossness  which  men  in  laborious 
life  are  apt  to  indulge  toward  each  other,  they  are 
mutually  obliging  and  accommodating  ;  inter- 
changing kind  offices,  yielding  each  other  assist- 
ance and  comfort  in  every  emergency,  and  using 
the  familiar  appellations  of  "  cousin"  and 
"  brother"  when  there  is  in  fact  no  relationship. 
Their  natural  good-will  is  probably  heightened  by 
a  community  of  adventure  and  hardship  in  their 
precarious  and  wandering  lile. 

No  men  are  more  submissive  to  their  leaders 
and  employers,  more  capable  of  enduring  hard- 
ship, or  more  good-humored  under  privations. 
Never  are  they  so  happy  as  when  on  long  and 
rough  expeditions,  toiling  up  rivers  or  coasting 
lakes  ;  encamping  at  night  on  the  borders,  gossip- 
ing round  their  fires,  and  bivouacking  in  the  open 
air.  They  are  dexterous  boatmen,  vigorous  and 
adroit  with  the  oar  and  paddle,  and  will  row  from 
morning  until  night  without  a  murmur.  The 
steersman  often  sings  an  old  traditionary  French 
song,  with  some  regular  burden  in  which  they 
all  join,  keeping  time  with  their  oars  ;  if  at  any 
time  they  flag  in  spirits  or  relax  in  exertion,  it  is 
but  necessary  to  strike  up  a  song  of  the  kind  to 
put  them  all  in  fresh  spirits  and  activity.  The 
Canadian  waters  are  vocal  with  these  little  French 
chansons,  that  have  been  echoed  from  mouth  to 
mouth  and  transmitted  from  father  to  son,  from 
the  earliest  days  of  the  colony  ;  and  it  has  a  pleas- 
ing effect,  in  a  still  golden  summer  evening,  to 
see  a  batteau  gliding  across  the  bosom  of  a  lake 
and  dipping  its  oars  to  the  cadence  of  these 
quaint  old  ditties,  or  sweeping  along  in  full  chorus, 
on  a  bright  sunny  morning,  down  the  transparent 
current  of  one  of  the  Canada  rivers. 

But  we  are  talking  of  things  that  are  fast  fading 
away  !  The  march  of  mechanical  invention  is 
driving  everything  poetical  before  it.  The  steam- 
boats, which  are  fast  dispelling  the  wildness  and 
romance  of  our  lakes  and  rivers,  and  aiding  to 
subdue  the  world  into  commonplace,  are  proving 
as  fatal  to  the  race  of  the  Canadian  voyageurs  as 


they  have  been  to  that  of  the  boatmen  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi. Their  glory  is  departed.  They  are  no 
longer  the  lords  of  our  internal  seas  and  the  great 
navigators  of  the  wilderness.  Some  of  them  may 
still  occasionally  be  seen  coasting  the  lower  lakes 
with  their  frail  barks,  and  pitching  their  camps 
and  lighting  their  fires  upon  the  shores  ;  but 
their  range  is  fast  contracting  to  those  remote 
waters  and  shallow  and  obstructed  rivers  unvisit- 
ed  by  the  steamboat.  In  the  course  of  years  they 
will  gradually  disappear ;  their  songs  will  die 
away  like  the  echoes  they  once  awakened,  and 
the  Canadian  voyageurs  will  become  a  forgotten 
race,  or  remembered,  like  their  associates,  the 
Indians,  among  the  poetical  images  of  past  times, 
and  as  themes  for  local  and  romantic  associa- 
tions. 

An  instance  of  the  buoyant  temperament  and 
the  professional  pride  of  these  people  was  fur- 
nished in  the  gay  and  braggart  style  in  which 
they  arrived  at  New  York  to  join  the  enterprise. 
They  were  determined  to  regale  and  astonish  the 
people  of  the  "  States"  with  the  sight  of  a  Cana- 
dian boat  and  a  Canadian  crew.  They  accord- 
ingly fitted  up  a  large  but  light  bark  canoe,  such 
as  is  used  in  the  fur  trade  ;  transported  it  in  a 
wagon  from  the  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
shores  of  Lake  Champlain  ;  traversed  the  lake  in 
it,  from  end  to  end  ;  hoisted  it  again  in  a  wagon 
and  wheeled  it  off  to  Lansingburgh,  and  there 
launched  it  upon  the  waters  of  the  Hudson.  Down 
this  river  they  plied  their  course  merrily  on  a  fine 
summer's  day,  making  its  banks  resound  for  the 
first  time  with  their  old  French  boat  songs ; 
passing  by  the  villages  with  whoop  and  halloo, 
so  as  to  make  the  honest  Dutch  farmers  mistake 
them  for  a  crew  of  savages.  In  this  way  they 
swept,  in  full  song,  and  with  regular  flourish  of 
the  paddle,  round  New  York,  in  a  still  summer 
evening,  to  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  its  in- 
habitants, who  had  never  before  witnessed  on 
their  waters  a  nautical  apparition  of  the  kind. 

Such  was  the  variegated  band  of  adventurers 
about  to  embark  in  the  Tonquin  on  this  arduous 
and  doubtful  enterprise.  While  yet  in  port  and  on 
dry  land,  in  the  bustle  of  preparation  and  the  ex- 
citement of  novelty,  all  was  sunshine  and  promise. 
The  Canadians,  especially,  who,  with  their  consti- 
tutional vivacity,  have  a  considerable  dash  of  the 
gascon,  were  buoyant  and  boastful,  and  great 
braggarts  as  to  the  future  ;  while  all  those  who 
had  been  in  the  service  of  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany, and  engaged  in  the  Indian  trade,  plumed 
themselves  upon  their  hardihood  and  their  capacity 
to  endure  privations.  If  Mr.  Astor  ventured  to 
hint  at  the  difficulties  they  might  have  to  encoun- 
ter, they  treated  them  with  scorn.  They  were 
"  northwesters  ;"  men  seasoned  to  hardships, 
who  cared  for  neither  wind  nor  weather.  They 
could  live  hard,  lie  hard,  sleep  hard,  eat  dogs  ! — 
in  a  word  they  were  ready  to  do  and  surfer  any- 
thing for  the  good  of  the  enterprise.  With  all  this 
profession  of  zeal  and  devotion,  Mr.  Astor  was 
not  over-confident  of  the  stability  and  firm  faith  of 
these  mercurial  beings.  He  had  received  informa- 
tion, also,  that  an  armed  brig  from  Halifax,  prob- 
ably at  the  instigation  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
was  hovering  on  the  coast,  watching  for  the 
Tonquin,  with  the  purpose  of  impressing  the 
Canadians  on  board  of  her,  as  British  subjects, 
and  thus  interrupting  the  voyage.  It  was  a  time 
of  doubt  and  anxiety,  when  the  relations  between 
the  United  States  and  Great  Britain  were  daily 
assuming  a  more  precarious  aspect  and  verging 
toward  that  war  which  shortly  ensued.  As  a  pre- 


312 


ASTORIA. 


cautionary  measure,  therefore,  he  required  that 
the  voyageurs,  as  they  were  about  to  enter  into  the 
service  of  an  American  association,  and  to  reside 
within  the  limits  of  the  United  States,  should  take 
the  oaths  of  naturalization  as  American  citizens. 
To  this  they  readily  agreed,  and  shortly  afterward 
assured  him  that  they  had  actually  done  so.  It 
was  not  until  after  they  had  sailed  that  he  discov- 
ered that  they  had  entirely  deceived  him  in  the 
matter. 

The  confidence  of  Mr.  Astor  was  abused  in 
another  quarter.  Two  of  the  partners,  both  of 
them  Scotchmen,  and  recently  in  the  service  of 
the  Northwest  Company,  had  misgivings  as  to  an 
enterprise  which  might  clash  with  the  interests 
and  establishments  protected  by  the  British  flag. 
They  privately  waited  upon  the  British  minister, 
Mr.  Jackson,  then  in  New  York,  laid  open  to  him 
the  whole  scheme  of  Mr.  Astor,  though  intrusted 
to  them  in  confidence,  and  dependent,  in  a  great 
measure,  upon  secrecy  at  the  outset  for  its  suc- 
cess, and  inquired  whether  they,  as  British  sub- 
jects, could  lawfully  engage  in  it.  The  reply  satis- 
fied their  scruples,  while  the  information  they  im- 
parted excited  the  surprise  and  admiration  of  Mr. 
Jackson,  that  a  private  individual  should  have 
conceived  and  set  on  foot  at  his  own  risk  and 
expense  so  great  an  enterprise. 

This  step  on  the  part  of  those  gentlemen  was 
not  known  to  Mr.  Astor  until  some  time  after- 
ward, or  it  might  have  modified  the  trust  and 
confidence  reposed  in  them. 

To  guard  against  any  interruption  to  the  voy- 
age by  the  armed  brig,  said  to  be  off  the  harbor, 
Mr.  Astor  applied  to  Commodore  Rodgers,  at 
that  time  commanding  at  New  York,  to  give  the 
Tonquin  safe  convoy  off  the  coast.  The  com- 
modore having  received  from  a  high  official  source 
assurance  of  the  deep  interest  which  the  govern- 
ment took  in  the  enterprise,  sent  directions  to  Cap- 
tain Hull,  at  that  time  cruising  off  the  harbor  in 
the  frigate  Constitution,  to  afford  the  Tonquin 
the  required  protection  when  she  should  put  to 
sea. 

Before  the  day  of  embarkation,  Mr.  Astor  ad- 
dressed a  letter  of  instruction  to  the  four  partners 
who  were  to  sail  in  the  ship.  In  this  he  enjoined 
them,  in  the  most  earnest  manner,  to  cultivate 
harmony  and  unanimity,  and  recommended  that 
all  differences  of  opinions  on  points  connected 
with  the  objects  and  interests  of  the  voyage  should 
be  discussed  by  the  whole,  and  decided  by  a  ma- 
jority of  votes.  He,  moreover,  gave  them  espe- 
cial caution  as  to  their  conduct  on  arriving  at  their 
destined  port  ;  exhorting  them  to  be  careful  to 
make  a  favorable  impression  upon  the  wild  people 
among  whom  their  lot  and  the  fortunes  of  the 
enterprise  would  be  cast.  "  If  you  find  them 
kind,"  said  he,  "  as  I  hope  you  will,  be  so  to  them. 
If  otherwise,  act  with  caution  and  forbearance, 
and  convince  them  that  you  come  as  friends." 

With  the  same  anxious  forethought  he  wrote  a 
letter  of  instructions  to  Captain  Thorn,  in  which  he 
urged  the  strictest  attention  to  the  health  of  him- 
self and  his  crew,  and  to  the  promotion  of  good- 
humor  and  harmony  on  board  his  ship.  "  To  pre- 
vent any  misunderstanding,"  added  he,  "  will  re- 
quire your  particular  good  management."  His 
letter  closed  with  an  injunction  of  wariness  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  natives,  a  subject  on  which 
Mr.  Astor  was  justly  sensible  he  could  not  be  too 
earnest.  "  I  must  recommend  you,"  said  he, 
"  to  be  particularly  careful  on  the  coast,  and  not 
to  rely  too  much  on  the  friendly  disposition  of  the 
natives.  All  accidents  which  have  as  yet  hap- 


pened there  arose  from  too  much  confidence  in  the 
Indians." 

The  reader  will  bear  these  instructions  in  mind, 
as  events  will  prove  their  wisdom  and  impor- 
tance, and  the  disasters  which  ensued  in  conse- 
quence of  the  neglect  of  them. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ON  the  eighth  of  September,  1810,  the  Tonquin 
put  to  sea,  where  she  was  soon  joined  by  the  frig- 
ate Constitution.  The  wind  was  fresh  and  fair 
from  the  southwest,  and  the  ship  was  soon  out  of 
sight  of  land  and  free  from  the  apprehended  dan- 
ger of  interruption.  The  frigate,  therefore,  gave 
her  "  God  speed,"  and  left  her  to  her  course. 

The  harmony  so  earnestly  enjoined  by  Mr.  As- 
tor on  this  heterogeneous  crew,  and  which  had 
been  so  confidently  promised  in  the  buoyant  mo- 
ments of  preparation,  was  doomed  to  meet  with  a 
check  at  the  very  outset. 

Captain  Thorn  was  an  honest,  straightforward, 
but  somewhat  dry  and  dictatorial  commander, 
who,  having  been  nurtured  in  the  system  and  dis- 
cipline of  a  ship  of  war,  and  in  a  sacred  opinion 
of  the  supremacy  of  the  quarter-deck,  was  dis- 
posed to  be  absolute  lord  and  master  on  board  of 
his  ship.  He  appears,  moreover,  to  have  had  no 
great  opinion,  from  the  first,  of  the  persons  em- 
barked with  him.  He  had  stood  by  with  surly 
contempt  while  they  vaunted  so  bravely  to  Mr. 
Astor  of  all  they  could  do  and  all  they  could 
undergo  ;  how  they  could  face  all  weathers,  put 
up  with  all  kinds  of  fare,  and  even  eat  dogs  with 
a  relish,  when  no  better  food  was  to  be  had.  He 
had  set  them  down  as  a  set  of  landlubbers  and 
braggadocios,  and  was  disposed  to  treat  them 
accordingly.  Mr.  Astor  was,  in  his  eyes,  his  only 
real  employer,  being  the  father  of  the  enterprise, 
who  furnished  all  funds  bore  all  losses.  The 
others  were  mere  agents  and  subordinates,  who 
lived  at  his  expense.  He  evidently  had  but  a  nar- 
row idea  of  the  scope  and  nature  of  the  enterprise, 
limiting  his  views  merely  to  his  part  of  it  ;  every- 
thing beyond  the  concerns  of  his  ship  was  out  of 
his  sphere  ;  and  anything  that  interfered  with  the 
routine  of  his  nautical  duties  put  him  in  a  passion. 

The  partners,  on  the  other  hand,  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  service  of  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany, and  in  a  profound  idea  of  the  importance, 
dignity,  and  authority  of  a  partner.  They  already 
began  to  consider  themselves  on  a  par  with  the 
M'Tavishes,  the  M'Gillivrays,  the  Frobishers,  and 
the  other  magnates  of  the  northwest,  whom  they 
had  been  accustomed  to  look  up  to  as  the  great 
ones  of  the  earth  ;  and  they  were  a  little  disposed, 
perhaps,  to  wear  their  suddenly-acquired  honors 
with  some  air  of  pretension.  Mr.  Astor,  too,  had 
put  them  on  their  mettle  with  respect  to  the  cap- 
tain, describing  him  as  a  gunpowder  fellow  who 
would  command  his  ship  in  fine  style,  and,  if  there 
was  any  fighting  to  do,  would  "  blow  all  out  of 
the  water." 

Thus  prepared  to  regard  each  other  with  no  very 
cordial  eye,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the 
parties  soon  came  into  collision.  On  the  very 
first  night  Captain  Thorn  began  his  man-of-war 
discipline  by  ordering  the  lights  in  the  cabin  to  be 
extinguished  at  eight  o'clock. 

The  pride  of  the  partners  was  immediately  in 
arms.  This  was  an  invasion  of  their  rights  and 
dignities  not  to  be  borne.  They  were  on  board  of 
their  own  ship,  and  entitled  to  consult  their  ease 


ASTORIA. 


313 


and  enjoyment.  M'Dougal  was  the  champion  of 
their  cause.  He  was  an  active,  irritable,  fuming, 
vainglorious  little  man,  and  elevated  in  his  own 
opinion,  by  being  the  proxy  of  Mr.  Astor.  A  vio- 
lent altercation  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which 
Thorn  threatened  to  put  the  partners  in  irons 
should  they  prove  refractory  ;  upon  which 
M'Dougal  seized  a  pistol  and  swore  to  be  the 
death  of  the  captain  should  he  ever  offer  such  an 
indignity.  It  was  some  time  before  the  irritated 
parties  could  be  pacified  by  the  more  temperate 
bystanders. 

Such  was  the  captain's  outset  with  the  partners. 
Nor  did  the  clerks  stand  much  higher  in  his  good 
graces  ;  indeed,  he  seems  to  have  regarded  all  the 
landsmen  on  board  his  ship  as  a  kind  of  live  lum- 
ber, continually  in  the  way.  The  poor  voyageurs, 
too,  continually  irritated  his  spleen  by  their 
"  lubberly"  and  unseemly  habits,  so  abhorrent  to 
one  accustomed  to  the  cleanliness  of  a  man-of- 
war.  These  poor  fresh-water  sailors,  so  vainglo- 
rious on  shore,  and  almost  amphibious  when  on 
lakes  and  rivers,  lost  all  heart  and  stomach  the 
moment  they  were  at  sea.  For  days  they  suffered 
the  doleful  rigors  and  retchings  of  sea-sickness, 
lurking  below  in  their  berths  in  squalid  state,  or 
emerging  now  and  then  like  spectres  from  the 
hatchways,  in  capotes  and  blankets,  with  dirty 
nightcaps,  grizzly  beard,  lantern  visage  and  un- 
happy eye,  shivering  about  the  deck,  and  ever  and 
anon  crawling  to  the  sides  of  the  vessel,  and  offer- 
ing up  their  tributes  to  the  windward,  to  the  in- 
finite annoyance  of  the  captain. 

His  letters  to  Mr.  Astor,  wherein  he  pours  forth 
the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  and  his  seamanlike  im- 
patience of  what  he  considers  the  "  lubberly" 
character  and  conduct  of  those  around  him,  are 
before  us,  and  are  amusingly  characteristic.  The 
honest  captain  is  full  of  vexation  on  his  own  ac- 
count, and  solicitude  on  account  of  Mr.  Astor, 
whose  property  he  considers  at  the  mercy  of  a 
most  heterogeneous  and  wasteful  crew. 

As  to  the  clerks,  he  pronounces  them  mere  pre- 
tenders, not  one  of  whom  had  ever  been  among  the 
Indians,  nor  farther  to  the  northwest  than  Mont- 
real, nor  of  higher  rank  than  barkeeper  of  a  tav- 
ern or  marker  of  a  billiard-table,  excepting  one, 
who  had  been  a  schoolmaster,  and  whom  he  em- 
phatically sets  down  for  "  as  foolish  a  pedant  as 
ever  lived." 

Then  as  to  the  artisans  and  laborers  who  had 
been  brought  from  Canada  and  shipped  at  such 
expense,  the  three  most  respectable,  according  to 
the  captain's  account,  were  culprits,  who  had 
fled  from  Canada  on  account  of  their  misdeeds  ; 
the  rest  had  figured  in  Montreal  as  draymen, 
barbers,  waiters  and  carriole  drivers,  and  were 
the  most  helpless,  worthless  beings  "  that  ever 
broke  sea-biscuit." 

It  may  easily  be  imagined  what  a  series  of 
misunderstandings  and  cross-purposes  would  be 
likely  to  take  place  between  such  a  crew  and  such 
a  commander.  The  captain,  in  his  zeal  for  the 
health  and  cleanliness  of  his  ship,  would  make 
sweeping  visitations  to  the  "  lubber  nests"  of  the 
unlucky  "  voyageurs"  and  their  companions  in  mis- 
ery, ferret  them  out  of  their  berths,  make  them  air 
and  wash  themselves  and  their  accoutrements, and 
oblige  them  to  stir  about  briskly  and  take  exercise. 

Nor  did  his  disgust  and  vexation  cease  when 
all  hands  had  recovered  from  sea-sickness,  and 
become  accustomed  to  the  ship,  for  now  broke 
out  an  alarming  keenness  of  appetite  that  threat- 
ened havoc  to  the  provisions.  What  especially 
irritated  the  captain  was  the  daintiness  of  some  of 


his  cabin  passengers.  They  were  loud  in  their 
complaints  of  the  ship's  fare,  though  their  table 
was  served  with  fresh  pork,  hams,  tongues, 
smoked  beef,  and  puddings.  "  When  thwarted  in 
their  cravings  for  delicacies,"  said  he,  "they 
would  exclaim  that  it  was  d — d  hard  they  could 
not  live  as  they  pleased  upon  their  own  property, 
being  on  board  of  their  own  ship,  freighted  with 
their  own  merchandise.  And  these,"  added  he, 
"  are  the  fine  fellows  who  made  such  boast  that 
they  could  '  eat  dogs.'  ' 

In  his  indignation  at  what  he  termed  their 
effeminacy,  he  would  swear  that  he  would  never 
take  them  to  sea  again  "  without  having  Fly-mar- 
ket on  the  forecastle,  Covent-garden  on  the  poop, 
and  a  cool  spring  from  Canada  in  the  maintop." 

As  they  proceeded  on  their  voyage  and  got  into 
the  smooth  seas  and  pleasant  weather  of  the  trop- 
ics, other  annoyances  occurred  to  vex  the  spirit  of 
the  captain.  He  had  been  crossed  by  the  irritable 
mood  of  one  of  the  partners  ;  he  was  now  excess- 
ively annoyed  by  the  good-humor  of  another. 
This  was  the  elder  Stuart,  who  was  an  easy  soul, 
and  of  a  social  disposition.  He  had  seen  life  in 
Canada,  and  on  the  coast  of  Labrador  ;  had  been 
a  fur  trader  in  the  former,  and  a  fisherman  on  the 
latter  ;  and  in  the  course  of  his  experience  had 
made  various  expeditions  with  voyageurs.  He 
was  accustomed,  therefore,  to  the  familiarity 
which  prevails  between  that  class  and  their  su- 
periors, and  the  gossipings  which  take  place 
among  them  when  seated  round  a  fire  at  their  en- 
campments. Stuart  was  never  so  happy  as  when 
he  could  seat  himself  on  the  deck  with  a  number 
of  these  men  round  him,  in  camping  style,  smoke 
together,  passing  the  pipe  from  mouth  to  mcuth, 
after  the  manner  of  the  Indians,  sing  old  Cana- 
dian boat-songs,  and  tell  stories  about  their  hard- 
ships and  adventures,  in  the  course  of  which  he 
rivalled  Sinbad  in  his  long  tales  of  the  sea, 
about  his  fishing  exploits  on  the  coast  of  Labrador. 

This  gossiping  familiarity  shocked  the  captain's 
notions  of  rank  and  subordination,  and  nothing 
was  so  abhorrent  to  him  as  the  community  of 
pipe  between  master  and  man,  and  their  mingling 
in  chorus  in  the  outlandish  boat-songs. 

Then  there  was  another  whimsical  source  of 
annoyance  to  him.  Some  of  the  young  clerks,  who 
were  making  their  first  voyage,  and  to  whom 
everything  was  new  and  strange,  were,  very  ra- 
tionally, in  the  habit  of  taking  notes  and  keeping 
journals.  This  was  a  sore  abomination  to  the 
honest  captain,  who  held  their  literary  preten- 
sions in  great  contempt.  "  The  collecting  of  ma- 
terials for  long  histories  of  their  voyages  and 
travels,"  said  he,  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Astor,  "  ap- 
pears to  engross  most  of  their  attention."  We  can 
conceive  what  must  have  been  the  crusty  impa- 
tience of  the  worthy  navigator,  when,  on  any  tri- 
fling occurrence  in  the  course  of  the  voyage,  quite 
commonplace  in  his  eyes,  he  saw  these  young 
landsmen  running  to  record  it  in  their  journals  ; 
and  what  indignant  glances  he  must  have  cast  to 
right  and  left,  as  he  worried  about  the  deck,  giv- 
ing out  his  orders  for  the  management  of  the  ship, 
surrounded  by  singing,  smoking,  gossiping,  scrib- 
bling groups,  all,  as  he  thought,  intent  upon  the 
amusement  of  the  passing  hour,  instead  of  the 
great  purposes  and  interests  of  the  voyage. 

It  is  possible  the  captain  was  in  some  degree 
right  in  his  notions.  Though  some  of  the  passen- 
gers had  much  to  gain  by  the  voyage,  none  of 
them  had  anything  positively  to  lose.  They  were 
mostly  young  men,  in  the  heyday  of  life  ;  and 
having  got  into  fine  latitudes,  upon  smooth  seas, 


314 


ASTORIA. 


with  a  well-stored  ship  under  them,  and  a  fair 
wind  in  the  shoulder  of  the  sail,  they  seemed  to 
have  got  into  a  holiday  world,  and  were  disposed 
to  enjoy  it.  That  craving  desire,  natural  to  un- 
travelled  men  of  fresh  and  lively  minds,  to  see 
strange  lands,  and  to  visit  scenes  famous  in  his- 
tory or  fable,  was  expressed  by  some  of  the  part- 
ners and  clerks,  with  respect  to  some  of  the  sto- 
ried coasts  and  islands  that  lay  within  their  route. 
The  captain,  however,  who  regarded  every  coast 
and  island  with  a  matter-of-fact  eye,  and  had  no 
more  associations  connected  with  them  than  those 
laid  down  in  his  sea-chart,  considered  all  this 
curiosity  as  exceedingly  idle  and  childish.  "  In 
the  first  part  of  the  voyage,"  says  he  in  his  letter, 
"  they  were  determined  to  have  it  said  they  had 
been  in  Africa,  and  therefore  insisted  on  my  stop- 
ping at  the  Cape  de  Verdes.  Next  they  said  the 
ship  should  stop  on  the  coast  of  Patagonia,  for 
they  must  see  the  large  and  uncommon  inhabit- 
ants of  that  place.  Then  they  must  go  to  the 
island  where  Robinson  Crusoe  had  so  long  lived. 
And  lastly,  they  were  determined  to  see  the  hand- 
some inhabitants  of  Easter  Island." 

To  all  these  resolves  the  captain  opposed  his 
peremptory  veto,  as  "  contrary  to  instructions." 
Then  would  break  forth  an  unavailing  explosion 
of  wrath  on  the  part  of  certain  of  the  partners,  in 
the  course  of  which  they  did  not  even  spare  Mr. 
Astor  for  his  act  of  supererogation  in  furnishing 
orders  for  the  control  of  the  ship  while  they  were 
on  board,  instead  of  leaving  them  to  be  the  judges 
where  it  would  be  best  for  her  to  touch,  and  how 
long  to  remain.  The  choleric  M'Dougal  took  the 
lead  in  these  railings,  being,  as  has  been  ob- 
served, a  little  puffed  up  with  the  idea  of  being 
Mr.  Astor' s  proxy. 

The  captain,  however,  became  only  so  much  the 
more  crusty  and  dogged  in  his  adherence  to  his 
orders,  and  touchy  and  harsh  in  his  dealings  with 
his  passengers,  and  frequent  altercations  ensued. 
He  may  in  some  measure  have  been  influenced  by 
his  seamanlike  impatience  of  the  interference  of 
landsmen,  and  his  high  notions  of  naval  etiquette 
and  quarter-deck  authority  ;  but  he  evidently  had 
an  honest,  trusty  concern  for  the  interests  of  his 
employer.  He  pictured  to  himself  the  anxious 
projector  of  the  enterprise,  who  had  disbursed  so 
munificently  in  its  outfit,  calculating  on  the  zeal, 
fidelity,  and  singleness  of  purpose  of  his  associates 
and  agents  ;  while  they,  on  the  other  hand,  hav- 
ing a  good  ship  at  their  disposal,  and  a  deep 
pocket  at  home  to  bear  them  out,  seemed  ready  to 
loiter  on  every  coast,  and  amuse  themselves  in 
every  port. 

On  the  fourth  of  December  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  Falkland  Islands.  Having  been  for  some 
time  on  an  allowance  of  water,  it  was  resolved  to 
anchor  here  and  obtain  a  supply.  A  boat  was 
sent  into  a  small  bay  to  take  soundings.  Mr. 
M'Dougal  and  Mr.  M'Kay  took  this  occasion  to 
go  on  shore,  but  with  a  request  from  the  captain 
that  they  would  not  detain  the  ship.  Once  on 
shore,  however,  they  were  in  no  haste  to  obey  his 
orders,  but  rambled  about  in  search  of  curiosities. 
The  anchorage  proving  unsafe,  and  water  difficult 
to  be  procured,  the  captain  stood  out  to  sea,  and 
made  repeated  signals  for  those  on  shore  to  rejoin 
the  ship,  but  it  was  not  until  nine  at  night  that 
they  came  on  board. 

The  wind  being  adverse,  the  boat  was  again 
sent  on  shore  on  the  following  morning,  and  the 
same  gentlemen  again  landed,  but  promised  to 
come  off  at  a  moment's  warning  ;  they  again 
forgot  their  promise  in  their  eager  pursuit  of  wild 


geese  and  sea-wolves.  After  a  time  the  wind 
hauled  lair,  and  signals  were  made  for  the  boat. 
Half  an  hour  elapsed,  but  no  boat  put  off.  The 
captain  reconnoitred  the  shore  with  his  glass,  and, 
to  his  infinite  vexation,  saw  the  loiterers  in  the  full 
enjoyment  of  their  "  wild-goose  chase."  Nettled 
to  the  quick,  he  immediately  made  sail.  When 
those  on  shore  saw  the  ship  actually  under  way, 
they  embarked  with  all  speed,  but  had  a  hard 
pull  of  eight  miles  before  they  got  on  board,  and 
then  experienced  but  a  grim  reception,  notwith- 
standing that  they  came  well  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  the  chase. 

Two  days  afterward,  on  the  seventh  of  Decem- 
ber, they  anchored  at  Port  Egmont,  in  the  same 
island,  where  they  remained  four  clays  taking  in 
water  and  making  repairs.  This  was  a  joyous  time 
for  the  landsmen.  They  pitched  a  tent  on  shore, 
had  a  boat  at  their  command,  and  passed  their 
time  merrily  in  rambling  about  the  island,  and 
coasting  along  the  shores,  shooting  sea-lions, 
seals,  foxes,  geese,  ducks,  and  penguins.  None 
were  keener  in  pursuit  of  this  kind  of  game  than 
M'Dougal  and  David  Stuart  ;  the  latter  was  re- 
minded of  aquatic  sports  on  the  coast  of  Labra- 
dor, and  his  hunting  exploits  in  the  northwest. 

In  the  mean  time  the  captain  addressed  himself 
steadily  to  the  business  of  his  ship,  scorning  the 
holiday  spirit  and  useless  pursuits  of  his  emanci- 
pated messmates,  and  warning  them,  from  time 
to  time,  not  to  wander  away  nor  be  out  of  hail. 
They  promised,  as  usual,  that  the  ship  should 
never  experience  a  moment's  detention  on  their  ac- 
count, but  as  usual  forgot  their  promise. 

On  the  morning  of  the  nth,  the  repairs  being 
all  finished,  and  the  water-casks  replenished,  the 
signal  was  given  to  embark,  and  the  ship  began  to 
weigh  anchor.  At  this  time  several  of  the  passen- 
gers were  dispersed  about  the  island,  amusing 
themselves  in  various  ways.  Some  of  the  young 
men  had  found  two  inscriptions,  in  English,  over 
a  place  where  two  unfortunate  mariners  had  been 
buried  in  this  desert  island.  As  the  inscriptions 
were  nearly  worn  out  by  time  and  weather,  they 
were  playing  the  part  of  "  Old  Mortality,"  and 
piously  renewing  them.  The  signal  from  the  ship 
summoned  them  from  their  labors  ;  they  saw  the 
sails  unfurled,  and  that  she  was  getting  under 
way.  The  two  sporting  partners,  however,  Mr. 
M'Dougal  and  David  Stuart,  had  strolled  "away  to 
the  south  of  the  island  in  pursuit  of  penguins.  It 
would  never  do  to  put  off  without  them,  as  there 
was  but  one  boat  to  convey  the  whole. 

While  this  delay  took  place  on  shore,  the  cap- 
tain was  storming  on  board.  This  was  the  third 
time  his  orders  had  been  treated  with  contempt, 
and  the  ship  wantonly  detained,  and  it  should  be 
the  last  ;  so  he  spread  all  sail  and  put  to  sea, 
swearing  he  would  leave  the  laggards  to  shift  for 
themselves.  It  was  in  vain  that  those  on  board 
made  remonstrances  and  entreaties,  and  repre- 
sented the  horrors  of  abandoning  men  upon  a 
sterile  and  uninhabited  island  :  the  sturdy  cap- 
tain was  inflexible. 

In  the  mean  time  the  penguin  hunters  had  joined 
the  engravers  of  tombstones,  but  not  before  the 
ship  was  already  out  at  sea.  They  all,  to  the  num- 
ber of  eight,  threw  themselves  into  their  boat, 
which  was  about  twenty  feet  in  length,  and  rowed 
with  might  and  main.  For  three  hours  and  a 
half  did  they  tug  anxiously  and  severely  at  the 
oar,  swashed  occasionally  by  the  surging  waves 
of  the  open  sea,  while  the  ship  inexorably  kept  on 
her  course,  and  seemed  determined  to  leave  them 
behind. 


ASTORIA. 


On  board  of  the  ship  was  the  nephew  of  David 
Stuart,  a  young  man  of  spirit  and  resolution.  See- 
ing, as  he  thought,  the  captain  obstinately  bent 
upon  abandoning  his  uncle  and  the  others,  he 
seized  a  pistol,  and  in  a  paroxysm  of  wrath  swore 
he  would  blow  out  the  captain's  brains  unless  he 
put  about  or  shortened  sail. 

Fortunately  for  all  parties,  the  wind  just  then 
came  ahead,  and  the  boat  was  enabled  to  reach 
the  ship  ;  otherwise,  disastrous  circumstances 
might  have  ensued.  We  can  hardly  believe  that 
the  captain  really  intended  to  carry  his  threat 
into  full  effect,  and  rather  think  he  meant  to  let 
the  laggards  off  for  a  long  pull  and  a  hearty  fright. 
He  declared,  however,  in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Astor, 
that  he  was  serious  in  his  threats  ;  and  there  is 
no  knowing  how  far  such  an  iron  man  may  push 
his  notions  of  authority. 

"  Had  the  wind,"  writes  he,  "  (unfortunately) 
not  hauled  ahead  soon  after  leaving  the  harbor's 
mouth,  I  should  positively  have  left  them  ;  and, 
indeed,  I  cannot  but  think  it  an  unfortunate  cir- 
cumstance for  you  that  it  so  happened,  for  the 
first  loss  in  this  instance  would,  in  my  opinion, 
have  proved  the  best,  as  they  seem  to  have  no 
idea  of  the  value  of  property,  nor  any  apparent  re- 
gard for  your  interest,  although  interwoven  with 
their  own." 

This,  it  must  be  confessed,  was  acting  with  a 
high  hand,  and  carrying  a  regard  to  the  owner's 
property  to  a  dangerous  length.  Various  petty 
feuds  occurred  also  between  him  and  the  partners 
in  respect  to  the  goods  on  board  the  ship,  some 
articles  of  which  they  wished  to  distribute  for 
clothing  among  the  men,  or  for  other  purposes 
which  they  deemed  essential.  The  captain,  how- 
ever, kept  a  mastiff  watch  upon  the  cargo,  and 
growled  and  snapped  if  they  but  offered  to  touch 
box  or  bale.  "  It  was  contrary  to  orders  ;  it 
would  forfeit  his  insurance  ;  it  was  out  of  all 
rule."  It  was  in  vain  they  insisted  upon  their 
right  to  do  so,  as  part  owners,  and  as  acting  for 
the  good  of  the  enterprise  ;  the  captain  only  stuck 
to  his  point  the  more  stanchly.  They  consoled 
themselves,  therefore,  by  declaring  that  as  soon  as 
they  made  land  they  would  assert  their  rights,  and 
do  with  ship  and  cargo  as  they  pleased. 

Besides  these  feuds  between  the  captain  and  the 
partners,  there  were  feuds  between  the  partners 
themselves,  occasioned,  in  some  measure,  by  jeal- 
ousy of  rank.  M'Dougal  and  M'Kay  began  to 
draw  plans  for  the  fort,  and  other  buildings  of  the 
intended  establishment.  They  agreed  very  well 
as  to  the  outline  and  dimensions,  which  were  on  a 
sufficiently  grand  scale  ;  but  when  they  came  to 
arrange  the  details,  fierce  disputes  arose,  and 
they  would  quarrel  by  the  hour  about  the  distri- 
bution of  the  doors  and  windows.  Many  were  the 
hard  words  and  hard  names  bandied  between 
them  on  these  occasions,  according  to  the  cap- 
tain's account.  Each  accused  the  other  of  en- 
deavoring to  assume  unwarrantable  power,  and 
to  take  the  lead  ;  upon  which  Mr.  M'Dougal  would 
vauntingly  lay  down  Mr.  Astor's  letter,  constitut- 
ing him  Ws  representative  and  proxy,  a  document 
not  to  be  disputed. 

These  wordy  contests,  though  violent,  were 
brief  "  and  within  fifteen  minutes,"  says  the  cap- 
tain, "  they  would  be  caressing  each  other  like 
children." 

While  all  this  petty  anarchy  was  agitating  the 
little  world  within  the  Tonquin,  the  good  ship 
prosperously  pursued  her  course,  doubled  Cape 
Horn  on  the  25th  of  December,  careered  across 
the  bosom  of  the  Pacific,  until,  on  the  nth  of 


February,  the  snowy  peaks  of  Owvhee  were  seen 
brightening  above  the  horizon. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

OWYHEE,  or  Hawaii,  as  it  is  written  by  more 
exact  orthographers,  is  the  largest  of  the  cluster, 
ten  in  number,  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  It  is 
about  ninety-seven  miles  in  length  and  seventy- 
eight  in  breadth,  rising  gradually  into  three  py- 
ramidal summits  or  cones  ;  the  highest,  Mouna 
Roa,  being  eighteen  thousand  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  so  as  to  domineer  over  the  whole  Ar- 
chipelago, and  to  be  a  landmark  over  a  wide  ex- 
tent of  ocean.  It  remains  a  lasting  monument  of 
the  enterprising  and  unfortunate  Captain  .Cook, 
who  was  murdered  by  the  natives  of  this  island. 

The  Sandwich  Islanders,  when  first  discovered, 
evinced  a  character  superior  to  most  of  the  savages 
of  the  Pacific  Isles.  They  were  frank  and  open 
in  their  deportment,  friendly  and  liberal  in  their 
dealings,  with  an  apt  ingenuity  apparent  in  all 
their  rude  inventions. 

The  tragical  fate  of  the  discoverer,  which,  for  a 
time,  brought  them  under  the  charge  of  ferocity, 
was,  in  fact,  the  result  of  sudden  exasperation, 
caused  by  the  seizure  of  their  chief. 

At  the  time  of  the  visit  of  the  Tonquin,  the 
islanders  had  profited,  in  many  respects,  by  occa- 
sional intercourse  with  white  men  ;  and  had 
shown  a  quickness  to  observe  and  cultivate  those 
arts  important  to  their  mode  of  living.  Originally 
they  had  no  means  of  navigating  the  seas  by 
which  they  were  surrounded,  superior  to  light 
pirogues  which  were  little  competent  to  contend 
with  the  storms  of  the  broad  ocean.  As  the 
islanders  are  not  in  sight  of  each  other,  there 
could,  therefore,  be  but  casual  intercourse  between 
them.  The  traffic  with  white  men  had  put  them 
in  possession  of  vessels  of  superior  description  ; 
they  had  made  themselves  acquainted  with  their 
management,  and  had  even  made  rude  advances 
in  the  art  of  ship-building. 

These  improvements  had  been  promoted,  in  a 
great  measure,  by  the  energy  and  sagacity  of  one 
man,  the  famous  Tamaahmaah.  He  had  origi- 
nally been  a  petty  eri,  or  chief  ;  but,  being  of  an 
intrepid  and  aspiring  natures  he  had  risen  in  rank, 
and,  availing  himself  of  the  superior  advantages 
now  afforded  in  navigation,  had  brought  the 
whole  Archipelago  in  subjection  to  his  arms.  At 
the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Tonquin  he  had 
about  forty  schooners,  of  from  twenty  to  thirty 
tons  burden,  and  one  old  American  ship.  With 
these  he  maintained  undisputed  sway  over  his  in- 
sular domains,  and  carried  on  an  intercourse  with 
the  chiefs  or  governors  whom  he  had  placed  in 
command  of  the  several  islands. 

The  situation  of  this  group  of  islands,  far  in  the 
bosom  of  the  vast  Pacific,  and  their  abundant  fer- 
tility, rendered  them  important  stopping  places 
on  the  highway  to  China,  or  to  the  northwest  coast 
of  America.  Here  the  vessels  engaged  in  the  fur 
trade  touched  to  make  repairs  and  procure  provi- 
sions ;  and  here  they  often  sheltered  themselves 
during  the  winters  that  occurred  in  their  long  coast- 
ing expeditions. 

The  British  navigators  were,  from  the  first, 
aware  of  the  value  of  these  islands  to  the  purposes 
of  commerce  ;  and  Tamaahmaah,  not  long  after 
he  had  attained  the  sovereign  sway,  was  per- 
suaded by  Vancouver,  the  celebrated  discoverer, 
to  acknowledge,  on  behalf  of  himself  and  subjects, 


315 


ASTORIA. 


allegiance  to  the  King  of  Great  Britain.  The 
reader  cannot  but  call  to  mind  the  visit  which 
the  royal  family  and  court  of  the  Sandwich  Islands 
was,  in  late  years,  induced  to  make  to  the  court 
of  St.  James  ;  and  the  serio-comic  ceremonials  and 
mock  parade  which  attended  that  singular  trav- 
esty of  monarchal  style. 

It  was  a  part  of  the  wide  and  comprehensive 
plan  of  Mr.  Astor  to  establish  a  friendly  inter- 
course between  these  islands  and  his  intended 
colony,  which  might,  for  a  time,  have  occasion  to 
draw'supplies  thence  ;  and  he  even  had  a  vague 
idea  of,  some  time  or  other,  getting  possession  of 
one  of  their  islands  as  a  rendezvous  for  his  ships, 
and  a  link  in  the  chain  of  his  commercial  estab- 
lishments. 

On  the  evening  of  the  I2th  of  February  theTon- 
quin  anchored  in  the  bay  of  Karakakooa,  in  the 
island  of  Owyhee.  The  surrounding  shores  were 
wild  and  broken,  with  overhanging  cliffs  and  prec- 
ipices of  black  volcanic  rock.  Beyond  these,  how- 
ever, the  country  was  fertile  and  well  cultivated, 
with  inclosuresof  yams,  plantains,  sweet  potatoes, 
sugar-canes,  and  other  productions  of  warm  cli- 
mates and  teeming  soils  ;  and  the  numerous  habi- 
tations of  the  natives  were  pleasantly  sheltered 
beneath  clumps  of  cocoanut  and  bread-fruit  trees, 
which  afforded  both  food  and  shade.  This  mingled 
variety  of  garden  and  grove  swept  gradually  up 
the  sides  of  the  mountains  until  succeeded  by 
dense  forests,  which  in  turn  gave  place  to  naked 
and  craggy  rocks,  until  the  summits  rose  into  the 
regions  of  perpetual  snow. 

The  royal  residence  of  Tamaahmaah  was  at 
this  time  at  another  island  named  Woahoo.  The 
island  of  Owyhee  was  under  the  command  of  one 
of  his  eris,  or  chiefs,  who  resided  at  the  village  of 
Tocaigh,  situated  on  a  different  part  of  the  coast 
from  the  bay  of  Karakakooa. 

On  the  morning  after  her  arrival,  the  ship  was 
surrounded  by  canoes  and  pirogues,  filled  with 
the  islanders  of  both  sexes,  bringing  off  supplies 
of  fruits  and  vegetables,  bananas,  plantains, 
watermelons,  yams,  cabbages,  and  taro.  The 
captain  was  desirous,  however,  of  purchasing  a 
number  of  hogs,  but  there  were  none  to  be  had. 
The  trade  in  pork  was  a  royal  monopoly,  and  no 
subject  of  the  great  Tamaahmaah  dared  to  meddle, 
with  it.  Such  provisions  as  they  could  furnish, 
however,  were  brought  by  the  natives  in  abun- 
dance, and  a  lively  intercourse  was  kept  up  during 
the  day,  in  which  the  women  mingled  in  the  kind- 
est manner. 

The  islanders  are  a  comely  race,  of  a  copper 
complexion.  The  men  are  tall  and  well  made, 
with  forms  indicating  strength  and  activity  ;  the 
women  with  regular  and  occasionally  handsome 
features,  and  a  lascivious  expression,  characteristic 
of  their  temperament.  Their  style  of  dress  was 
nearly  the  same  as  in  the  days  of  Captain  Cook. 
The  men  wore  the  maro,  a  band  one  foot  in  width 
and  several  feet  in  length,  swathed  round  the 
loins,  and  formed  of  tappa,  or  cloth  of  bark  ;  the 
kihei,  or  mantle,  about  six  feet  square,  tied  in  a 
knot  over  one  shoulder,  passed  under  the  opposite 
arm,  so  as  to  leave  it  bare  and,  falling  in  graceful 
folds  before  and  behind,  to  the  knee,  so  as  to  bear 
some  resemblance  to  a  Roman  toga. 

The  female  dress  consisted  of  the  pau,  a  gar- 
ment formed  of  a  piece  of  tappa,  several  yards  in 
length  and  one  in  width,  wrapped  round  the  waist 
and  reaching,  like  a  petticoat,  to  the  knees.  Over 
this  a  kihei  or  mantle,  larger  than  that  of  the  men, 
sometimes  worn  over  both  shoulders,  like  a 
shawl,  sometimes  over  one  only.  These  mantles 


were  seldom  worn  by  either  sex  during  the  heat 
of  the  day,  when  the  exposure  of  their  persons  was 
at  first  very  revolting  to  a  civilized  eye. 

Toward  evening  several  of  the  partners  and 
clerks  went  on  shore,  where  they  were  well  re- 
ceived and  hospitably  entertained.  A  dance  was 
performed  for  their  amusement,  in  which  nine- 
teen young  women  and  one  man  figured  very 
gracefully,  singing  in  concert,  and  moving  to  the 
cadence  of  their  song. 

All  this,  however,  was  nothing  to  the  purpose 
in  the  eyes  of  Captain  Thorn,  who,  being  disap- 
pointed in  his  hope  of  obtaining  a  supply  of  pork, 
or  finding  good  water,  was  anxious  to  be  off. 
This  it  was  not  so  easy  to  effect.  The  passengers, 
once  on  shore,  were  disposed,  as  usual,  to  profit 
by  the  occasion.  The  partners  had  many  inquiries 
to  make  relative  to  the  island,  with  a  view  to  busi- 
ness ;  while  the  young  clerks  were  delighted  with 
the  charms  and  graces  of  the  dancing  damsels. 

To  add  to  their  gratifications,  an  old  man 
offered  to  conduct  them  to  the  spot  where  Cap- 
tain Cook  was  massacred.  The  proposition  was 
eagerly  accepted,  and  all  hands  set  out  on  a  pil- 
grimage to  the  place.  The  veteran  islander  per- 
formed his  promise  faithfully,  and  pointed  out  the 
very  spot  where  the  unfortunate  discoverer  fell. 
The  rocks  and  cocoa-trees  around  bore  record  of 
the  fact,  in  the  marks  of  the  balls  fired  from  the 
boats  upon  the  savages.  The  pilgrims  gathered 
round  the  old  man,  and  drew  from  him  all  the 
particulars  he  had  to  relate  respecting  this  mem- 
orable event  ;  while  the  honest  captain  stood  by 
and  bit  his  nails  with  impatience.  To  add  to  his 
vexation,  they  employed  themselves  in  knocking 
off  pieces  of  the  rocks,  and  cutting  off  the  bark  of 
the  trees  marked  by  the  balls,  which  they  conveyed 
back  to  the  ship  as  precious  relics. 

Right  glad,  therefore,  was  he  to  get  them  and 
their  treasures  fairly  on  board,  when  he  made  sail 
from  this  unprofitable  place,  and  steered  for  the 
Bay  of  Tocaigh,  the  residence  of  the  chief  or  gov- 
ernor of  the  island,  where  he  hoped  to  be  more 
successful  in  obtaining  supplies.  On  coming  to 
anchor  the  captain  went  on  shore,  accompanied 
by  Mr.  M'Dougall  and  Mr.  M'Kay,  and  paid  a 
visit  to  the  governor.  This  dignitary  proved  to  be 
an  old  sailor,  by  the  name  of  John  Young  ;  who, 
after  being  tossed  about  the  seas  like  another  Sin- 
bad,  had,  by  one  of  the  whimsical  freaks  of  for- 
tune, been  elevated  to  the  government  of  a  savage 
island.  He  received  his  visitors  with  more  hearty 
familiarity  than  personages  in  his  high  station  are 
apt  to  indulge,  but  soon  gave  them  to  understand 
that  provisions  were  scanty  at  Tocaigh,  and  that 
there  was  no  good  water,  no  rain  having  fallen 
in  the  neighborhood  in  three  years. 

The  captain  was  immediately  for  breaking  up 
the  conference  and  departing,  but  the  partners 
were  not  so  willing  to  part  with  the  nautical  gov- 
ernor, who  seemed  disposed  to  be  extremely  com- 
municative, and  from  whom  they  might  be  able  to 
procure  some  useful  information.  A  long  conver- 
sation accordingly  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which 
they  made  many  inquiries  about  the  affairs  of  the 
islands,  their  natural  productions,  and  the  possi- 
bility of  turning  them  to  advantage  in  the  way  of 
trade  ;  nor  did  they  fail  to  inquire  into  the  individ- 
ual history  of  John  Young,  and  how  he  came  to  be 
governor.  This  he  gave  with  great  condescension, 
running  through  the  whole  course  of  his  fortunes, 
"  even  from  his  boyish  days." 

He  was  a  native  of  Liverpool,  in  England,  and 
had  followed  the  sea  from  boyhood,  until,  by  dint 
of  good  conduct,  he  had  risen  so  far  in  his  profes- 


ASTORIA. 


317 


sion  as  to  be  boatswain  of  an  American  ship 
called  the  Eleanor,  commanded  by  Captain  Met- 
calf.  In  this  vessel  he  had  sailed  in  1789,  on  one 
of  those  casual  expeditions  to  the  northwest  coast 
in  quest  of  furs.  In  the  course  of  the  voyage  the 
captain  left  a  small  schooner,  named  the  Fair 
American,  at  Nootka,  with  a  crew  of  five  men, 
commanded  by  his  son,  a  youth  of  eighteen.  She 
was  to  follow  on  in  the  track  of  the  Eleanor. 

In  February,  1790,  Captain  Metcalf  touched  at 
the  island  of  Mowee,  one  of  the  Sandwich  group. 
While  anchored  here,  a  boat  which  was  astern  of 
the  Eleanor  was  stolen,  and  a  seaman  who  was  in 
it  was  killed.  The  natives,  generally,  disclaimed 
the  outrage,  and  brought  the  shattered  remains  of 
the  boat  and  the  dead  body  of  the  seaman  to  the 
ship.  Supposing  that  they  had  thus  appeased  the 
anger  of  the  captain,  they  thronged,  as  usual,  in 
great  numbers  about  the  vessel,  to  trade.  Captain 
Metcalf,  however,  determined  on  a  bloody  re- 
venge. The  Eleanor  mounted  ten  guns.  All  these 
he  ordered  to  be  loaded  with  musket-balls,  nails, 
and  pieces  of  old  iron,  and  then  fired  them,  and 
the  small  arms  of  the  ship,  among  the  natives. 
The  havoc  was  dreadful  ;  more  than  a  hundred, 
according  to  Young's  account,  were  slain. 

After  this  signal  act  of  vengeance,  Captain  Met- 
calf sailed  from  Mowee,  and  made  for  the  island 
of  Owyhee, where  he  was  well  received  by  Tamaah- 
maah.  The  fortunes  of  this  warlike  chief  were 
at  that  time  on  the  rise.  He  had  originally  been  of 
inferior  rank,  ruling  over  only  one  or  two  districts 
of  Owyhee,  but  had  gradually  made  himself  sov- 
ereign of  his  native  island. 

The  Eleanor  remained  some  few  days  at  anchor 
here,  and  an  apparently  friendly  intercourse  was 
kept  up  with  the  inhabitants.  On  the  I7th  March, 
John  Young  obtained  permission  to  pass  the  night 
on  shore.  On  the  following  morning  a  signal  gun 
summoned  him  to  return  on  board. 

He  went  to  the  shore  to  embark,  but  found  all 
the  canoes  hauled  up  on  the  beach  and  rigorously 
tabooed,  or  interdicted.  He  would  have  launchecl 
one  himself,  but  was  informed  by  Tamaahmaah 
that  if  he  presumed  to  da  so  he  would  be  put  to 
death. 

Young  was  obliged  to  submit,  and  remained  all 
clay  in  great  perplexity  to  account  for  this  myste- 
rious taboo,  and  fearful  that  some  hostility  was 
intended.  In  the  evening  he  learned  the  cause  of 
it,  and  his  uneasiness  was  increased.  It  appeared 
that  the  vindictive  act  of  Captain  Metcalf  had  re- 
coiled upon  his  own  head.  The  schooner  Fair 
American,  commanded  by  his  son,  following  in 
his  track,  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  natives 
.  to  the  southward  of  Tocaigh  Bay,  and  young  Met- 
calf and  four  of  the  crew  had  been  massacred. 

On  receiving  intelligence  of  this  event,  Ta- 
maahmaah had  immediately  tabooed  all  the  ca- 
noes, and  interdicted  all  intercourse  with  the  ship 
lest  the  captain  should  learn  the  fate  of  the 
•schooner,  and  take  his  revenge  upon  the  island. 
For  the  same  reason  he  prevented  Young  from  re- 
joining his  countrymen.  The  Eleanor  continued 
to  fire  signals  from  time  to  time  for  two  days,  and 
then  sailed  ;  concluding,  no  doubt,  that  the  boat- 
swain had  deserted. 

John  Young  was  in  despair  when  he  saw  the 
ship  make  sail,  and  found  himself  abandoned 
among-  savages  ;  and  savages,  too,  sanguinary  in 
their  character,  and  inflamed  by  acts  of  hostility. 
He  was  agreeably  disappointed,  however,  in  expe- 
riencing nothing  but  kind  treatment  from  Tamaah- 
maah and  his  people.  It  is  true,  he  was  narrowly- 
watched  whenever  a  vessel  came  in  sight,  lest  he 


should  escape  and  relate  what  had  passed  ;  but  at 
other  times  he  was  treated  with  entire  confidence 
and  great  distinction.  He  became  a  prime  favor- 
ite, cabinet  counsellor,  and  active  coadjutor  of 
Tamaahmaah,  attending  him  in  all  his  excursions, 
whether  of  business  or  pleasure,  and  aiding  in  his 
warlike  and  ambitious  enterprises.  By  degrees  he 
rose  to  the  rank  of  a  chief,  espoused  one  of  the 
beauties  of  the  island,  and  became  habituated  and 
reconciled  to  his  new  way  of  life  ;  thinking  it  bet- 
ter, perhaps,  to  rule  among  savages  than  serve 
among  white  men  ;  to  be  a  feathered  chief  than  a 
tarpawling  boatswain.  His  favor  with  Tamaah- 
maah never  declined  ;  and  when  that  sagacious, 
intrepid,  and  aspiring  chieftain  had  made  him- 
self sovereign  over  the  whole  group  of  islands, 
and  removed  his  residence  to  VVoahoo,  he  left  his 
faithful  adherent  John  Young  in  command  of 
Owyhee. 

Such  is  an  outline  of  the  history  of  Governor 
Young,  as  furnished  by  himself  ;  and  we  regret 
that  we  are  not  able  to  give  any  account  of  the 
state  maintained  by  this  seafaring  worthy,  and 
the  manner  in  which  he  discharged  his  high  func- 
tions ;  though  it  is  evident  he  had  more  of  the 
hearty  familiarity  of  the  forecastle  than  the  dig- 
nity of  the  gubernatorial  office. 

These  long  conferences  were  bitter  trials  to  the 
patience  of  the  captain,  who  had  no  respect  either 
for  the  governor  or  his  island,  and  was  anxious  to 
push  on  in  quest  of  provisions  and  water.  As 
soon  as  he  could  get  his  inquisitive  partners  once 
more  on  board,  he  weighed  anchor,  and  made 
sail  for  the  island  of  Woahoo,  the  royal  residence 
of  Tamaahmaah. 

This  is  the  most  beautiful  island  of  the  Sandwich 
group.  It  is  forty-six  miles  in  length  and  twenty- 
three  in  breadth.  A  ridge  of  volcanic  mountains 
extends  through  the  centre,  rising  into  lofty  peaks, 
and  skirted  by  undulating  hills  and  rich  plains, 
where  the  cabins  of  the  natives  peep  out  from  be- 
neath groves  of  cocoanut  and  other  luxuriant  trees. 

On  the  2 ist  of  February  the  Tonquin  cast 
anchor  in  the  beautiful  bay  before  the  village  of 
Waititi,  (pronounced  Whyteetee),  the  abode  of 
Tamaahmaah.  This  village  contained  about  two 
hundred  habitations,  composed  of  poles  set  in  the 
ground,  tied  together  at  the  ends,  and  thatched 
with  grass,  and  was  situated  in  an  open  grove  of 
cocoanuts.  The  royal  palace  of  Tamaahmaah  was 
a  large  house  of  two  stories  ;  the  lower  of  stone, 
the  upper  of  wood.  Round  this  his  body-guard 
kept  watch,  composed  of  twenty-four  men,  in  long 
blue  cassocks  turned  up  with  yellow,  and  each 
armed  with  a  musket. 

While  at  anchor  at  this  place,  much  ceremo- 
nious visiting  and  long  conferences  took  place 
between  the  potentate  of  the  islands  and  the 
partners  of  the  company.  Tamaahmaah  came 
on  board  of  the  ship  in  royal  style,  in  his 
double  pirogue.  He  was  between  fifty  and  sixty 
years  of  age,  above  the  middle  size,  large  and 
well  made,  though  somewhat  corpulent.  He  was 
dressed  in  an  old  suit  of  regimentals,  with  a 
swOrd  by  his  side,  and  seemed  somewhat  em- 
barrassed by  his  magnificent  attire.  Three  of  his 
wives  accompanied  him.  They  were  almost  as 
tall,  and  quite  as  corpulent  as  himself  ;  but  by  no 
means  to  be  compared  with  him  in  grandeur  of 
habiliments,  wearing  no  other  garb  than  the  pau. 
With  him  also  came  his  great  favorite  and  con- 
fidential counsellor,  Kraimaker  ;  who,  from  hold- 
ing a  post  equivalent  to  that  of  prime  minister, 
had  been  familiarly  named  Billy  Pitt  by  the  British 
visitors  to  the  islands. 


318 


ASTORIA. 


The  sovereign  was  received  with  befitting  cere- 
monial. The  American  flag  was  displayed,  four 
guns  were  fired,  and  the  partners  appeared  in 
scarlet  coats,  and  conducted  their  illustrious 
guests  to  the  cabin,  where  they  were  regaled  with 
wine.  In  this  interview  the  partners  endeavored 
to  impress  the  monarch  with  a  sense  of  their  im- 
portance, and  of  the  importance  of  the  association 
to  which  they  belonged.  They  let  him  know  that 
they  were  eris,  or  chiefs,  of  a  great  company 
about  to  be  established  on  the  northwest  coast, 
and  talked  of  the  probability  of  opening  a  trade 
with  his  islands,  and  of  sending  ships  there  occa- 
sionally. All  this  was  gratifying  and  interesting 
to  him,  for  he  was  aware  of  the  advantages  of 
trade,  and  desirous  of  promoting  frequent  inter- 
course with  white  men.  He  encouraged  Euro- 
peans and  Americans  to  settle  in  his  islands,  and 
intermarry  with  his  subjects.  There  were  be- 
tween twenty  and  thirty  white  men  at  that  time 
resident  in  the  island,  but  many  of  them  were 
mere  vagabonds,  who  remained  there  in  hopes 
of  leading  a  lazy  and  an  easy  life.  For  such 
Tamaahmaah  had  a  great  contempt  ;  those  only 
had  his  esteem  and  countenance  who  knew  some 
trade  or  mechanic  art,  and  were  sober  and  in- 
dustrious. 

On  the  day  subsequent  to  the  monarch's  visit, 
the  partners  landed  and  waited  upon  him  in  re- 
turn. Knowing  the  effect  of  show  and  dress  upon 
men  in  savage  life,  and  wishing  to  make  a  favor- 
able impression  as  the  eris,  or  chiefs,  of  the  great 
American  Fur  Company,  some  of  them  appeared 
in  Highland  plaids  and  kilts,  to  the  great  admi- 
ration of  the  natives. 

While  visits  of  ceremony  and  grand  diplomatic 
conferences  were  going  on  between  the  partners 
and  the  king,  the  captain,  in  his  plain,  matter-of- 
fact  way,  was  pushing  what  he  considered  a  far 
more  important  negotiation — the  purchase  of  a 
supply  of  hogs.  He  found  that  the  king  had 
profited  in  more  ways  than  one  by  his  intercourse 
with  white  men.  Above  all  other  arts  he  had 
learned  the  art  of  driving  a  bargain.  He  was  a 
magnanimous  monarch,  but  a  shrewd  pork  mer- 
chant, and  perhaps  thought  he  could  not  do  bet- 
ter with  his  future  allies,  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany, than  to  begin  by  close  dealing.  Several  in- 
terviews were  requisite,  and  much  bargaining, 
before  he  could  be  brought  to  part  with  a  bristle 
of  his  bacon,  and  then  he  insisted  upon  being 
paid  in  hard  Spanish  dollars,  giving  as  a  reason 
that  he  wanted  money  to  purchase  a  frigate  from 
his  brother  George,  as  he  affectionately  termed 
the  King  of  England.* 


*  It  appears,  from  the  accounts  of  subsequent  voy- 
ages, that  Tamaahmaah,  afterward  succeeded  in  his 
wish  of  purchasing  a  large  ship.  In  this  he  sent  a 
cargo  of  sandal-wood  to  Canton,  having  discovered 
that  the  foreign  merchants  trading  with  him  made 
large  profits  on  this  wood,  shipped  by  them  from  the 
islands  to  the  Chinese  markets.  The  ship  was  manned 
by  natives,  but  the  officers  were  Englishmen.  She 
accomplished  her  voyage,  and  returned  in  safety  to 
the  islands,  with  the  Hawaiian  flag  floating  gloriously 
in  the  breeze.  The  king  hastened  on  board,  expecting 
to  find  his  sandal-wood  converted  into  crapes  and 
damasks,  and  other  rich  stuffs  of  China,  but  found, 
to  his  astonishment,  by  the  legerdemain  of  traffic,  his 
cargo  had  all  disappeared,  and,  in  place  of  it,  re- 
mained a  bill  of  charges  amounting  to  three  thousand 
dollars.  It  was  some  time  before  he  could  be  made 
to  comprehend  certain  of  the  most  important  items  of 
the  bill,  such  as  pilotage,  anchorage,  and  custom-house 
fees  ;  but  when  he  discovered  that  maritime  states  in 


At  length  the  royal  bargain  was  concluded  : 
the  necessary  supply  of  hogs  obtained,  besides 
several  goats,  two  sheep,  a  quantity  of  poultry, 
and  vegetables  in  abundance.  The  partners  now 
urged  to  recruit  their  forces  from  the  natives  of 
this  island.  They  declared  they  had  never  seen 
watermen  equal  to  them,  even  among  the  voy- 
ageurs  of  the  northwest  ;  and  indeed  they  are  re- 
markable for  their  skill  in  managing  their  light 
craft,  and  can  swim  and  dive  like  water-fowl. 
The  partners  were  inclined,  therefore,  to  take 
thirty  or  forty  with  them  to  the  Columbia,  to  be 
employed  in  the  service  of  the  company.  The 
captain,  however,  objected  that  there  was  not 
room  in  his  vessel  for  the  accommodation  of  such 
a  number.  Twelve,  only,  were  therefore  enlisted 
for  the  company,  and  as  many  more  for  the  ser- 
vice of  the  ship.  The  former  engaged  to  serve 
for  the  term  or  three  years,  during  which  they 
were  to  be  fed  and  clothed,  and  at  the  expiration 
of  the  time  were  to  receive  one  hundred  dollars 
in  merchandise. 

And  now,  having  embarked  his  live  stock, 
fruits,  vegetables,  and  water,  the  captain  made 
ready  to  set  sail.  How  much  the  honest  man  had 
suffered  in  spirit  by  what  he  considered  the  freaks 
and  vagaries  of  his  passengers,  and  how  little  he 
had  understood  their  humors  and  intentions,  is 
amusingly  shown  in  a  letter  written  to  Mr.  Astof 
from  Woahoo,  which  contains  his  comments  on 
the  scenes  we  have  described. 

"  It  would  be  difficult,"  he  writes,  "  to  imagine 
the  frantic  gambols  that  are  daily  played  off  here  ; 
sometimes  dressing  in  red  coats,  and  otherwise 
very  fantastically,  and  collecting  a  number  oi  ig- 
norant natives  around  them,  telling  them  that 
they  are  the  great  earis  of  the  northwest,  and 
making  arrangements  for  sending  three  or  four 
vessels  yearly  to  them  from  the  coast  with  spars, 
etc.;  while  those  very  natives  cannot  even  furnish 
a  hog  to  the  ship.  Then  dressing  in  Highland 
plaids  and  kilts,  and  making  similar  arrange- 
ments, with  presents  of  rum,  wine,  or  anything 
that  is  at  hand.  Then  taking  a  number  of  clerks 
and  men  on  shore  to  the  very  spot  on  which  Cap- 
tain Cook  was  killed,  and  each  fetching  off  a 
piece  of  the  rock  or  tree  that  was  touched  by  the 
shot.  Then  sitting  down  with  some  white  man 
or  some  native  who  can  be  a  little  understood, 
and  collecting  the  history  of  those  islands,  of  Tam- 
aahmaah's  wars,  the  curiosities  of  the  islands,  etc., 
preparatory  to  the  histories  of  their  voyages  ;  and 
the  collection  is  indeed  ridiculously  contemptible. 
To  enumerate  the  thousand  instances  of  igno- 
rance, filth,  etc.,  or  to  particularize  all  the  frantic 
gambols  that  are  daily  practised,  would  require 
volumes." 

Before  embarking  the  great  eris  of  the  Ame'ri- 
can  Fur  Company  took  leave  of  their  illustrious 
ally  in  due  style,  with  many  professions  of  lasting 
friendship  and  promises  of  future  intercourse  ; 
while  the  matter-of-fact  captain  anathematized 
him  in  his  heart  for  a  grasping,  trafficking  sav- 
age, as  shrewd  and  sordid  in  his  dealings  as  a 
white  man.  As  one  of  the  vessels  of  the  com- 
pany will,  in  the  course  of  events,  have  to  appeal 


other  countries  derived  large  revenues  in  this  man- 
ner, to  the  great  cost  of  the  merchant,  "  Well,"  cried 
he,  "  then  I  will  have  harbor  fees  also."  He  estab- 
lished them  accordingly.  Pilotage  a  dollar  a  foot  on 
the  draft  of  each  vessel.  Anchorage  from  sixty  to 
seventy  dollars.  In  this  way  he  greatly  increased  the 
royal  revenue,  and  turned  his  China  speculation  to 
account. 


ASTORIA. 


319 


to  the  justice  and  magnanimity  of  this  island  po- 
tentate, we  shall  see  how  far  the  honest  captain 
was  right  in  his  opinion. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IT  was  on  the  28th  of  February  that  the  Ton- 
quin  set  sail  from  the  Sandwich  Islands.  For 
two  days  the  wind  was  contrary,  and  the  vessel 
was  detained  in  their  neighborhood  ;  at  length  a 
favorable  breeze  sprang  up,  and  in  a  little  while 
the  rich  groves,  green  hills,  and  snowy  peaks  of 
those  happy  islands  one  after  another  sank  from 
sight,  or  melted  into  the  blue  distance,  and  the 
Tonquin  ploughed  her  course  toward  the  sterner 
regions  of  the  Pacific. 

The  misunderstandings  between  the  captain 
and  his  passengers  still  continued  ;  or  rather,  in- 
creased in  gravity.  By  his  altercations  and  his 
moody  humors  he  had  cut  himself  off  from  all 
community  of  thought  or  freedom  of  conversation 
with  them.  He  disdained  to  ask  any  questions 
as  to  their  proceedings,  and  could  only  guess  at 
the  meaning  ot  their  movements,  and  in  so  doing 
indulged  in  conjectures  and  suspicions  which 
produced  the  most  whimsical  self-torment. 

Thus,  in  one  of  his  disputes  with  them,  relative 
to  the  goods  on  board,  some  of  the  packages  of 
which  they  wished  to  open,  to  take  out  articles 
of  clothing  for  the  men,  or  presents  for  the  na- 
tives, he  was  so  harsh  and  peremptory  that  they 
lost  all  patience,  and  hinted  that  they  were  the 
strongest  party,  and  might  reduce  him  to  a  very 
ridiculous  dilemma,  by  taking  from  him  the  com- 
mand. 

A  thought  now  flashed  across  the  captain's 
mind  that  they  really  had  a  design  to  depose  him, 
and  that,  having  picked  up  some  information  at 
Owyhee,  possibly  of  war  between  the  United 
States  and  England,  they  meant  to  alter  the  des- 
tination of  the  voyage,  perhaps  to  seize  upon  ship 
and  cargo  for  their  own  use. 

Once  having  conceived  this  suspicion,  every- 
thing went  to  foster  it.  They  had  distributed 
firearms  among  some  of  their  men,  a  common 
precaution  among  the  fur  traders  when  mingling 
with  the  natives.  This,  however,  looked  like  prep- 
aration. Then  several  of  the  partners  and  clerks 
and  some  of  the  men,  being  Scotsmen,  were  ac- 
quainted with  the  Gaelic,  and  held  long  conversa- 
tions together  in  that  language.  These  conversa- 
tions were  considered  by  the  captain  of  a  "  mys- 
terious and  unwarrantable  nature,"  and  related, 
no  doubt,  to  some  foul  conspiracy  that  was  brew- 
ing among  them.  He  frankly  avows  such  sus- 
picions in  his  letter  to  Mr.  Astor,  but  intimates 
that  he  stood  ready  to  resist  any  treasonous  out- 
break, and  seems  to  think  that  the  evidence  of 
preparation  on  his  part  had  an  effect  in  overaw- 
ing the  conspirators. 

The  fact  is,  as  we  have  since  been  informed  by 
one  of  the  parties,  it  was  a  mischievous  pleasure 
with  some  of  the  partners  and  clerks,  who  were 
young  men,  to  play  upon  the  suspicious  temper 
and  splenetic  humors  of  the  captain.  To  this  we 
may  ascribe  many  of  their  whimsical  pranks  and 
absurd  propositions,  and,  above  all,  their  mysteri- 
ous colloquies  in  Gaelic. 

In  this  sore  and  irritable  mood  did  the  captain 
pursue  his  course,  keeping  a  wary  eye  on  every 
movement,  and  bristling  up  whenever  the  detest- 
ed sound  of  the  Gaelic  language  grated  upon  his 
ear.  Nothing  occurred,  however,  materially  to 
disturb  the  residue  of  the  voyage,  excepting  a  vio- 


lent storm  ;  and  on  the  twenty-second  of  March 
the  Tonquin  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Oregon 
or  Columbia  River. 

The  aspect  of  the  river  and  the  adjacent  coast 
was  wild  and  dangerous.  The  mouth  of  the  Co- 
lumbia is  upward  of  four  miles  wide,  with  a  pen- 
insula and  promontory  on  one  side,  and  a  long 
low  spit  of  land  on  the  other  ;  between  which  a 
sand-bar  and  chain  of  breakers  almost  block  up 
the  entrance.  The  interior  of  the  country  rises 
into  successive  ranges  of  mountains,  which,  at 
the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  Tonquin,  were  cov- 
ered with  snow. 

A  fresh  wind  from  the  northwest  sent  a  rough 
tumbling  sea  upon  the  coast,  which  broke  upon 
the  bar  in  furious  surges,  and  extended  a  sheet  of 
foam  almost  across  the  mouth  of  the  river. 
Under  these  circumstances  the  captain  did  not 
think  it  prudent  to  approach  within  three  leagues, 
until  the  bar  should  be  sounded  and  the  channel 
ascertained.  Mr.  Fox,  the  chief  mate,  was  or- 
dered to  this  service  in  the  whaleboat,  accom- 
panied by  John  Martin,  an  old  seaman,  who  had 
formerly  visited  the  river,  and  by  three  Cana- 
dians. Fox  requested  to  have  regular  sailors  to 
man  the  boat,  but  the  captain  would  not  spare 
them  from  the  service  of  the  ship,  and  supposed 
the  Canadians,  being  expert  boatmen  on  lakes 
and  rivers,  were  competent  to  the  service,  espe- 
cially when  directed  and  aided  by  Fox  and  Mar- 
tin. Fox  seems  to  have  lost  all  firmness  of  spirit 
on  the  occasion,  and  to  have  regarded  the  service 
with  a  misgiving  heart.  He  came  to  the  partners 
for  sympathy,  knowing  their  differences  with  the 
captain,  and  the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  as  he 
represented  his  case.  "  I  am  sent  off,"  said  he, 
"  without  seamen  to  man  my  boat,  in  boisterous 
weather,  and  on  the  most  dangerous  part  of  the 
northwest  coast.  My  uncle  was  lost  a  few  years 
ago  on  this  same  bar,  and  I  am  now  going  to  lay 
my  bones  alongside  ot  his."  The  partners  sym- 
pathized in  his  apprehensions,  and  remonstrated 
with  the  captain.  The  latter,  however,  was  not 
to  be  moved.  He  had  been  displeased  with  Mr. 
Fox  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  voyage,  considering 
him  indolent  and  inactive,  and  probably  thought 
his  present  repugnance  arose  from  a  want  of  true 
nautical  spirit.  The  interference  of  the  partners 
in  the  business  of  the  ship,  also,  was  not  calcu- 
lated to  have  a  favorable  effect  on  a  stickler  for 
authority  like  himself,  especially  in  his  actual 
state  of  feeling  toward  them. 

At  one  o'clock  P.M.,  therefore,  Fox  and  his 
comrades  set  off  in  the  whaleboat,  which  is  rep- 
resented as  small  in  size  and  crazy  in  condition. 
All  eyes  were  strained  after  the  little  bark  as  it 
pulled  for  shore,  rising  and  sinking  with  the  huge 
rolling  waves,  until  it  entered,  a  mere  speck, 
among  the  foaming  breakers,  and  was  soon  lost 
to  view.  Evening  set  in,  night  succeeded  and 
passed  away,  and  morning  returned,  but  without 
the  return  of  the  boat. 

As  the  wind  had  moderated,  the  ship  stood  near 
to  the  land,  so  as  to  command  a  view  of  the  riv- 
er's mouth.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  a  wild 
chaos  of  tumbling  waves  breaking  upon  the  bar, 
and  apparently  forming  a  foaming  barrier  from 
shore  to  shore.  Toward  night  the  ship  again 
stood  out  to  gain  sea-room,  and  a  gloom  was  vis- 
ible in  every  countenance.  The  captain  himself 
shared  in  the  general  anxiety,  and  probably  re- 
pented of  his  peremptory  orders.  Another  weary 
and  watchful  night  succeeded,  during  which  the 
wind  subsided,  and  the  weather  became  serene. 

On  the  following  day,  the  ship,  having  drifted 


320 


ASTORIA. 


near  the  land,  anchored  in  fourteen  fathoms 
water,  to  the  northward  of  the  long  peninsula  or 
promontory  which  forms  the  north  side  of  the  en- 
trance, and  is  called  Cape  Disappointment.  The 
pinnace  was  then  manned,  and  two  of  the  part- 
ners, Mr.  David  Stuart  and  Mr.  M'Kay,  set  off 
in  the  hope  of  learning-  something  of  the  fate  of 
the  whaleboat.  The  surf,  however,  broke  with 
such  violence  along  the  shore  that  they  could  find 
no  landing  place.  Several  of  the  natives  appear- 
ed on  the  beach  and  made  signs  to  them  to  row 
round  the  cape,  but  they  thought  it  most  prudent 
to  return  to  the  ship. 

The  wind  now  springing  up,  the  Tonquin  got 
under  way,  and  stood  in  to  seek  the  channel,  but 
was  again  deterred,  by  the  frightful  aspect  of  the 
breakers,  from  venturing  within  a  league.  Here 
she  hove  to,  and  Mr.  Mumford,  the  second 
mate,  was  dispatched  with  four  hands,  in  the 
pinnace,  to  sound  across  the  channel  until  he 
should  find  four  fathoms  depth.  The  pinnace 
entered  among  the  breakers,  but  was  near  being 
lost,  and  with  difficulty  got  back  to  the  ship.  The 
captain  insisted  that  Mr.  Mumford  had  steered 
too  much  to  the  southward.  He  now  turned  to 
Mr.  Aiken,  an  able  mariner,  destined  to  com- 
mand the  schooner  intended  lor  the  coasting 
trade,  and  ordered  him,  together  with  John  Coles, 
sailmaker,  Stephen  Weekes,  armorer,  and  two 
Sandwich  Islanders,  to  proceed  ahead  and  take 
soundings  while  the  ship  should  follow  under  easy 
sail.  In  this  way  they  proceeded  until  Aiken  had 
ascertained  the  channel,  when  signal  was  given 
jrom  the  ship  for  him  to  return  on  board.  He 
was  then  within  pistol-shot,  but  so  furious  was 
the  current,  and  tumultuous  the  breakers,  that 
the  boat  became  unmanageable,  and  was  hurried 
away,  the  crew  crying  out  piteouslyfor  assistance. 
In  a  few  moments  she  could  not  be  seen  from  the 
ship's  deck.  Some  of  the  passengers  climbed  to 
the  mizzentop,  and  beheld  her  struggling  to  reach 
the  ship  ;  but  shortly  after  she  broached  broad- 
side to  the  waves,  and  her  case  seemed  desperate. 
The  attention  of  those  on  board  ol  the  ship  was 
now  called  to  their  own  safety.  They  were  in 
shallow  water  ;  the  vessel  struck  repeatedly,  the 
waves  broke  over  her,  and  there  was  danger  of 
her  foundering.  At  length  she  got  into  seven 
fathoms  water,  and  the  wind  lulling,  and  the 
night  coming  on,  cast  anchor.  With  the  darkness 
their  anxieties  increased.  The  wind  whistled,  the 
sea  roared,  the  gloom  was  only  broken  by  the 
ghastly  glare  of  the  foaming  breakers,  the  minds 
of  the  seamen  were  lull  of  dreary  apprehensions, 
and  some  of  them  fancied  they  heard  the  cries  of 
their  lost  comrades  mingling  with  the  uproar  of 
the  elements.  For  a  time,  too,  the  rapidly  ebb- 
ing tide  threatened  to  sweep  them  from  their 
precarious  anchorage.  At  length  the  reflux  of  the 
tide  and  the  springing  up  of  the  wind  enabled 
them  to  quit  their  dangerous  situation  and  take 
shelter  in  a  small  bay  within  Cape  Disappoint- 
ment, where  they  rode  in  safety  during  the  resi- 
due of  a  stormy  night,  and  enjoyed  a  brief  inter- 
val of  refreshing  sleep. 

With  the  light  of  day  returned  their  cares  and 
anxieties.  They  looked  out  from  the  masthead 
over  a  wild  coast  and  wilder  sea,  but  could  dis- 
cover no  trace  of  the  two  boats  and  their  crews 
that  were  missing.  Several  of  the  natives  came 
on  board  with  peltries,  but  there  was  no  disposi- 
tion to  trade.  They  were  interrogated  by  signs 
after  the  lost  boats,  but  could  not  understand  the 
inquiries. 

Parties  now  went  on  shqre  and  scoured  the 


neighborhood.  One  of  these  was  headed  by  the 
captain.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  when  they 
beheld  a  person  at  a  distance  in  civilized  garb. 
As  he  drew  near  he  proved  to  be  Weekes,  the 
armorer.  There  was  a  burst  of  joy,  for  it  was 
hoped  his  comrades  were  near  at  hand.  His 
story,  however,  was  one  of  disaster.  He  and  his 
companions  had  found  it  impossible  to  govern 
their  boat,  having  no  rudder,  and  being  beset 
by  rapid  and  whirling  currents  and  boisterous 
surges.  After  long  struggling  they  had  let  her 
go  at  the  mercy  of  the  waves,  tossing  about  some- 
times with  her  bow,  sometimes  with  her  broad- 
side to  the  surges,  threatened  each  instant  with 
destruction,  yet  repeatedly  escaping,  until  a  huge 
sea  broke  over  and  swamped  her.  Weekes  was 
overwhelmed  by  the  boiling  waves,  but  emerging 
above  the  surface,  looked  round  for  his  compan- 
ions. Aikin  and  Coles  were  not  to  be  seen  ;  near 
him  were  the  two  Sandwich  Islanders,  stripping 
themselves  of  their  clothing  that  they  might  swim 
more  freely.  He  did  the  same,  and  the  boat  float- 
ing near  to  him,  he  seized  hold  of  it.  The  two 
islanders  joined  him,  and,  uniting  their  forces, 
they  succeeded  in  turning  the  boat  upon  her 
keel  ;  then  bearing  down  her  stern  and  rocking 
her,  they  forced  out  so  much  water  that  she  was 
able  to  bear  the  weight  of  a  man  without  sinking. 
One  of  the  islanders  now  got  in  and  in  a  little 
while  bailed  out  the  water  with  his  hands.  The 
other  swam  about  and  collected  the  oars,  and 
they  all  three  got  once  more  on  board. 

By -this  time  the  tide  had  swept  them  beyond 
the  breakers,  and  Weekes  called  on  his  compan- 
ions to  row  for  land.  They  were  so  chilled  and 
benumbed  by  the  cold,  however,  that  they  lost  all 
heart,  and  absolutely  refused.  Weekes  was 
equally  chilled,  but  had  superior  sagacity  and 
self-command.  He  counteracted  the  tendency  to 
drowsiness  and  stupor  which  cold  produces  by 
keeping  himself  in  constant  exercise  ;  and  seeing 
that  the  vessel  was  advancing,  and  that  everything 
depended  upon  himself,  he  set  to  work  to  scull 
the  boat  clear  of  the  bar,  and  into  quiet  water. 

Toward  midnight  one  of  the  poor  islanders  ex- 
pired ;  his  companion  threw  himself  on  his 
corpse  and  could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  him. 
The  dismal  night  wore  away  amid  these  hor- 
rors ;  as  the  day  dawned,  Weekes  found  himself 
near  the  land.  He  steered  directly  for  it,  and  at 
length,  with  the  aid  of  the  surf,  ran  his  boat  high 
upon  a  sandy  beach. 

Finding  that  one  of  the  Sandwich  Islanders  yet 
gave  signs  of  life,  he  aided  him  to  leave  the  boat, 
and  set  out  with  him  toward  the  adjacent  woods. 
The  poor  fellow,  however,  was  too  feeble  to  fol- 
low him,  and  Weekes  was  soon  obliged  to  aban- 
don him  to  his  fate  and  provide  for  his  own  safety. 
Falling  upon  a  beaten  path,  he  pursued  it,  and 
after  a  few  hours  came  to  a  part  of  the  coast 
where,  to  his  surprise  and  joy,  he  beheld  the  ship 
at  anchor,  and  was  met  by  the  captain  and  his 
party. 

After  Weekes  had  related  his  adventures,  three 
parties  were  dispatched  to  beat  up  the  coast  in 
search  of  the  unfortunate  islander.  They  return- 
ed at  night  without  success,  though  they  had  used 
the  utmost  diligence.  On  the  following  day  the 
search  was  resumed,  and  the  poor  fellow  was  at 
length  discovered  lying  beneath  a  group  of  rocks, 
his  legs  swollen,  his  feet  torn  and  bloody  from 
walking  through  bushes  and  briers,  and  himself 
half  dead  with  cold,  hunger,  and  fatigue.  Weekes 
and  this  islander  were  the  only  survivors  of  the 
crew  of  the  jolly-boat,  and  no  trace  was  ever  dis- 


ASTORIA. 


321 


covered  of  Fox  and  his  party.  Thus  eight  men 
were  lost  on  the  first  approach  to  the  coast — a 
commencement  that  cast  a  gloom  over  the  spirits 
of  the  whole  party,  and  was  regarded  by  some  oi 
the  superstitious  as  an  omen  that  boded  no  good  to 
the  enterprise. 

Toward  night  the  Sandwich  Islanders  went  on 
shore  to  bury  the  body  of  their  unfortunate  coun- 
tryman who  had  perished  in  the  boat.  On  arriv- 
ing at  the  place  where  it  had  been  left,  they  dug  a 
grave  in  the  sand,  in  which  they  deposited  the 
corpse,  with  a  biscuit  under  one  ot  the  arms,  some 
lard  under  the  chin,  and  a  small  quantity  of  to- 
bacco, as  provisions  for  its  journey  in  the  land  of 
spirits.  Having  covered  the  body  with  sand  and 
flints,  they  kneeled  along  the  grave  in  a  double 
row,  with  their  faces  turned  to  the  east,  while  one 
who  officiated  as  a  priest  sprinkled  them  with 
water  from  a  hat.  In  so  doing  he  recited  a  kind 
of  prayer  or  invocation,  to  which,  at  intervals,  the 
others  made  responses.  Such  were  the  simple 
rites  performed  by  these  poor  savages  at  the 
grave  of  their  comrade  on  the  shores  of  a  strange 
land  ;  and  when  these  were  done,  they  rose  and 
returned  in  silence  to  the  ship,  without  once  cast- 
ing a  look  behind. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  Columbia,  or  Oregon,  for  the  distance  of 
thirty  or  forty  miles  from  its  entrance  into  the  sea, 
is,  properly  speaking,  a  mere  estuary,  indented 
by  deep  bays  so  as  to  vary  from  three  to  seven 
miles  in  width,  and  is  rendered  extremely  intri- 
cate and  dangerous  by  shoals  reaching  nearly 
from  shore  to  shore,  on  which,  at  times,  the 
winds  and  currents  produce  foaming  and  tumult- 
uous breakers.  The  mouth  of  the  river  proper 
is  but  about  half  a  mile  wide,  formed  by  the  con- 
tracting shores  of  the  estuary.  The  entrance 
from  the  sea,  as  we  have  already  observed,  is 
bounded  on  the  south  side  by  a  flat,  sandy  spit 
of  land  stretching  into  the  ocean.  This  is  com- 
monly called  Point  Adams.  The  opposite  or 
northern  side  is  Cape  Disappointment,  a  kind 
of  peninsula,  terminating  in  a  steep  knoll  or 
promontory  crowned  with  a  forest  of  pine  trees, 
and  connected  with  the  main-land  by  a  low  and 
narrow  neck.  Immediately  within  this  cape  is 
a  wide,  open  bay,  terminating  at  Chinook  Point, 
so  called  from  a  neighboring  tribe  of  Indians. 
This  was  called  Baker's  Bay,  and  here  the  Ton- 
quin  was  anchored. 

The  natives  inhabiting  the  lower  part  of  the 
river,  and  with  whom  the  company  was  likely  to 
have  the  most  frequent  intercourse,  were  divided  at 
this  time  into  four  tribes — the  Chinooks,  Clatsops, 
Wahkiacums,  and  Cathlamahs.  They  resembled 
each  other  in  person,  dress,  language,  and  man- 
ner, and  were  probably  from  the  same  stock, 
but  broken  into  tribes,  or  rather  hordes,  by  those 
feuds  and  schisms  frequent  among  Indians. 

These  people  generally  live  by  fishing.  It  is 
true  they  occasionally  hunt  the  elk  and  deer,  and 
ensnare  the  waterfowl  of  their  ponds  and  rivers, 
but  these  are  casual  luxuries.  Their  chief  sub- 
sistence is  derived  from  the  salmon  and  other  fish 
which  abound  in  the  Columbia  and  its  tributary 
streams,  aided  by  roots  and  herbs,  especially  the 
wappatoo,  which  is  found  on  the  islands  of  the 
river. 

As  the  Indians  of  the  plains  who  depend  upon 
the  chase  are  bold  and  expert  riders,  and  pride 
themselves  upon  their  horses,  so  these  piscatory 


tribes  of  the  coast  excel  in  the  management  of 
canoes,  and  are  never  more  at  home  than  when 
riding  upon  the  waves.  Their  canoes  vary  in 
form  and  size.  Some  are  upward  of  fifty  feet 
long,  cut  out  of  a  single  tree,  either  fir  or  white 
cedar,  and  capable  ot  carrying  thirty  persons. 
They  have  thwart  pieces  from  side  to  side  about 
three  inches  thick,  and  their  gunwales  flare  out- 
ward, so  as  to  cast  off  the  surges  of  the  waves. 
The  bow  and  stern  are  decorated  with  grotesque 
figures  of  men  and  animals,  sometimes  five  feet  in 
height. 

In  managing  their  canoes  they  kneel  two  and 
two  along  the  bottom,  sitting  on  their  heels,  and 
wielding  paddles  from  four  to  five  feet  long,  while 
one  sits  on  the  stern  and  steers  with  a  paddle  of 
the  same  kind.  The  women  are  equally  expert 
with  the  men  in  managing  the  canoe,  and  gen- 
erally take  the  helm. 

It  is  surprising  to  see  with  what  fearless  uncon- 
cern these  savages  venture  in  their  light  barks  up- 
on the  roughest  and  most  tempestuous  seas.  They 
seem  to  ride  upon  the  waves  like  sea-fowl.  Should 
a  surge  throw  the  canoe  upon  its  side  and  endan- 
ger its  overturn,  those  to  windward  lean  over  the 
upper  gunwale,  thrust  their  paddles  deep  into  the 
wave,  apparently  catch  the  water  and  force  it 
under  the  canoe,  and  by  this  action  not  merely  re- 
gain an  equilibrium,  but  give  their  bark  a  vigor- 
ous impulse  forward. 

The  effect  of  different  modes  of  life  upon  the 
human  frame  and  human  character  is  strikingly 
instanced  in  the  contrast  between  the  hunting 
Indians  of  the  prairies  and  the  piscatory  Indian' 
of  the  sea-coast.  The  former,  continually  o: 
horseback  scouring  the  plains,  gaining  their  food 
by  hardy  exercise,  and  subsisting  chiefly  on  flesh, 
are  generally  tall,  sinewy,  meagre,  but  well  form- 
ed, and  of  bold  and  fierce  deportment  ;  the  latter, 
lounging  about  the  river  banks,  or  squatting  and 
curved  up  in  their  canoes,  are  generally  lew  in 
stature,  ill-shaped,  with  crooked  legs,  thick  ankles, 
and  broad  flat  feet.  They  are  inferior  also  in 
muscular  power  and  activity,  and  in  game  quali- 
ties and  appearance,  to  their  hard-riding  brethren 
ot  the  prairies. 

Having  premised  these  few  particulars  concern- 
ing the  neighboring  Indians,  we  will  return  to 
the  immediate  concerns  of  the  Tonquin  and  her 
crew. 

Further  search  was  made  for  Mr.  Fox  and  his 
party,  but  with  no  better  success,  and  they  were 
at  length  given  up  as  lost.  In  the  mean  time  the 
captain  and  some  of  the  partners  explored  the 
river  for  some  distance  in  a  large  boat,  to  select  a 
suitable  place  for  the  trading  post.  Their  old 
jealousies  and  differences  continued  ;  they  never 
could  coincide  in  their  choice,  and  the  captain 
objected  altogether  to  any  site  so  high  up  the  river. 
They  all  returned,  therefore,  to  Baker's  Bay  in  no 
very  good  humor.  The  partners  proposed  to 
examine  the  opposite  shore,  but  the  captain  was 
impatient  of  any  further  delay.  His  eagerness  to 
"  get  on"  had  increased  upon  him.  He  thought 
all  these  excursions  a  sheer  of  lost  time,  and  was 
resolved  to  land  at  once,  build  a  shelter  for  the 
reception  of  that  part  of  his  cargo  destined  tor  the 
use  ot  the  settlement,  and,  having  cleared  his  ship 
of  it  and  of  his  irksome  shipmates,  to  depart  upon 
the  prosecution  of  his  coasting  voyage,  according 
to  orders. 

On  the  following  day,  therefore,  without  troub- 
ling himself  to  consult  the  partners,  he  landed  in 
Baker's  Bay,  and  proceeded  to  erect  a  shed  for 
the  reception  of  the  rigging,  equipments,  and. 


323 


ASTORIA. 


stores  of  the  schooner  that  was  to  be  built  for  the 
use  of  the  settlement. 

This  dogged  determination  on  the  part  of  the 
sturdy  captain  gave  high  offence  to  Mr.  M'Dou- 
gal,  who  now  considered  himself  at  the  head  of 
the  concern,  as  Mr.  Astor's  representative  and 
proxy.  He  set  off  the  same  day  (April  5th),  ac- 
companied by  Mr.  David  Stuart,  for  the  southern 
shore,  intending  to  be  back  by  the  seventh.  Not 
having  the  captain  to  contend  with,  they  soon 
pitched  upon  a  spot  which  appeared  to  them  fa- 
vorable for  the  intended  establishment.  It  was 
on  a  point  of  land  called  Point  George,  having  a 
very  good  harbor,  where  vessels,  not  exceeding 
two  hundred  tons  burden,  might  anchor  within 
fifty  yards  of  the  shore. 

After  a  day  thus  profitably  spent  they  recrossed 
the  river,  but  landed  on  the  northern  shore  sev- 
eral miles  above  the  anchoring  ground  of  the 
Tonquin,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Chinooks,  and 
visited  the  village  of  that  tribe.  Here  they  were 
received  with  great  hospitality  by  the  chief,  who 
was  named  Comcomly,  a  shrewd  old  savage,  with 
but  one  eye,  who  will  occasionally  figure  in  this 
narrative.  Each  village  forms  a  petty  sov- 
ereignty, governed  by  its  own  chief,  who,  how- 
ever, possesses  but  little  authority,  unless  he  be  a 
man  of  wealth  and  substance — that  is  to  say,  pos- 
sessed of  canoes,  slaves,  and  wives.  The  greater 
number  of  these  the  greater  is  the  chief.  How 
many  wives  this  one-eyed  potentate  maintained 
we  are  not  told,  but  he  certainly  possessed  great 
sway,  not  merely  over  his  own  tribe,  but  over  the 
neighborhood. 

Having  mentioned  slaves,  we  would  observe 
that  slavery  exists  among  several  of  the  tribes  be- 
yond the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  slaves  are  well 
treated  while  in  good  health,  but  occupied  in  all 
kinds  of  drudgery.  Should  they  become  useless, 
however,  by  sickness  or  old  age,  they  are  totally 
neglected,  and  left  to  perish  ;  nor  is  any  respect 
paid  to  their  bodies  after  death. 

A  singular  custom  prevails,  not  merely  among 
the  Chinooks,  but  among  most  of  the  tribes  about 
this  part  of  the  coast,  which  is  the  flattening  of  the 
forehead.  The  process  by  which  this  deformity 
is  effected  commences  immediately  after  birth. 
The  infant  is  laid  in  a  wooden  trough,  by  way  of 
cradle.  The  end  on  which  the  head  reposes  is 
higher  than  the  rest.  A  padding  is  placed  on  the 
forehead  of  the  infant,  with  a  piece  of  bark  above 
it,  and  is  pressed  down  by  cords,  which  pass 
through  holes  on  each  side  of  the  trough.  As  the 
tightening  of  the  padding  and  the  pressing  of  the 
head  to  the  board  is  gradual,  the  process  is  said 
not  to  be  attended  with  much  pain.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  infant,  however,  while  in  this  state  of 
compression,  is  whimsically  hideous,  and  "  its 
little  black  eyes,"  we  are  told,  "  being  forced 
out  by  the  tightness  of  the  bandages,  resemble 
those  of  a  mouse  choked  in  a  trap." 

About  a  year's  pressure  is  sufficient  to  produce 
the  desired  effect,  at  the  end  of  which  time  the 
child  emerges  from  its  bandages  a  complete  flat- 
head,  and  continues  so  through  life.  It  must  be 
noted,  however,  that  this  flattening  of  the  head 
has  something  in  it  of  aristocratical  significancy, 
like  the  crippling  of  the  feet  among  Chinese 
ladies  of  quality.  At  any  rate  it  is  a  sign  of  free- 
dom. No  slave  is  permitted  to  bestow  this  envi- 
able deformity  upon  his  child  ;  all  the  slaves, 
therefore,  are  roundheads. 

With  this  worthy  tribe  of  Chinooks  the  two  part- 
ners passed  a  part  of  the  day  very  agreeably. 
M'Dougal,  who  was  somewhat  vain  of  his  official 


rank,  had  given  it  to  be  understood  that  they 
were  two  chiefs  of  a  great  trading  company,  about 
to  be  established  here,  and  the  quick-sighted 
though  one-eyed  chief,  who  was  somewhat  prac- 
tised in  traffic  with  white  men,  immediately  per- 
ceived the  policy  of  cultivating  the  friendship  of 
two  such  important  visitors.  He  regaled  them, 
therefore,  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  with  abun- 
dance of  salmon  and  .wappatoo.  The  next  morn- 
ing, March  7th,  they  prepared  to  return  to  the  ves- 
sel, according  to  promise.  They  had  eleven 
miles  of  open  bay  to  traverse  ;  the  wind  was 
fresh,  the  waves  ran  high.  Comcomly  remon- 
strated with  them  on  the  hazard  to  which  they 
would  be  exposed.  They  were  resolute,  however, 
and  launched  their  boat,  while  the  wary  chieftain 
followed  at  some  short  distance  in  his  canoe. 
Scarce  had  they  rode  a  mile  when  a  wave  broke 
over  their  boat  and  upset  it.  They  were  in  im- 
minent peril  of  drowning,  especially  Mr.  M'Dou- 
gal, who  could  not  swim.  Comcomly,  however, 
came  bounding  over  the  waves  in  his  light  canoe, 
and  snatched  them  from  a  watery  grave. 

They  were  taken  on  shore,  and  a  fire  made,  at 
which  they  dried  their  clothes,  after  which  Com- 
comly conducted  them  back  to  his  village.  Here 
everything  was  done  that  could  be  devised  for 
their  entertainment  during  three  days  that  they 
were  detained  by  bad  weather.  Comcomly  made 
his  people  perfom  antics  before  them  ;  and  his 
wives  and  daughters  endeavored,  by  all  the  sooth- 
ing and  endearing  arts  of  women,  to  find  favor  in 
their  eyes.  Some  even  painted  their  bodies  with 
red  clay,  and  anointed  themselves  with  fish  oil, 
to  give  additional  lustre  to  their  charms.  Mr. 
M'Dougal  seems  to  have  a  heart  susceptible  to 
the  influence  of  the  gentler  sex.  Whether  or  no 
it  was  first  touched  on  this  occasion  we  do  not 
learn  ;  but  it  will  be  found,  in  the  course  of  this 
work,  that  one  of  the  daughters  of  the  hospitable 
Comcomly  eventually  made  a  conquest  of  the 
great  eri  of  the  American  Fur  Company. 

When  the  weather  had  moderated  and  the  sea 
become  tranquil,  the  one-eyed  chief  of  the  Chi- 
nooks manned  his  state  canoe,  and  conducted  his 
guests  in  safety  to  the  ship,  where  they  were  wel- 
comed with  joy,  for  apprehensions  had  been  felt 
for  their  safety.  Comcomly  and  his  people 
were  then  entertained  on  board  of  the  Tonquin, 
and  liberally  rewarded  for  their  hospitality  and 
services.  They  returned  home  highly  satisfied, 
promising  to  remain  faithful  friends  and  allies  of 
the  white  men. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FROM  the  report  made  by  the  two  exploring1 
partners,  it  was  determined  that  Point  George 
should  be  the  site  of  the  trading  house.  These 
gentlemen,  it  is  tr.ue,  were  not  perfectly  satisfied 
with  the  place,  and  were  desirous  of  continuing 
their  search  ;  but  Captain  Thorn  was  impatient 
to  land  his  cargo  and  continue  his  voyage,  and 
protested  against  any  more  of  what  he  termed 
"  sporting  excursions.' ' 

Accordingly,  on  the  I2th  of  April  the  launch 
was  freighted  with  all  things  necessary  for  the 
purpose,  and  sixteen  persons  departed  in  her  to 
commence  the  establishment,  leaving  the  Ton- 
quin to  follow  as  soon  as  the  harbor  could  be 
sounded. 

Crossing  the  wide  mouth  of  the  river,  the  party 
landed,  and  encamped  at  the  bottom  of  a  small 
bay  within  Point  George.  The  situation  chosen 


ASTORIA. 


323 


for  the  fortified  post  was  on  an  elevation  facing 
to  the  north,  with  the  wide  estuary,  its  sand-bars 
and  tumultuous  breakers  spread  out  before  it, 
and  the  promontory  of  Cape  Disappointment, 
fifteen  miles  distant,  closing  the  prospect  to  the 
left.  The  surrounding  country  was  in  all  the 
freshness  of  spring  ;  the  trees  were  in  the  young 
leaf,  the  weather  was  superb,  and  everything 
looked  delightful  to  men  just  emancipated  from  a 
long  confinement  on  shipboard.  The  Tonquin 
shortly  afterward  made  her  way  through  the  in- 
tricate channel,  and  came  to  anchor  in  the  little 
bay,  and  was  saluted  from  the  encampment  with 
three  volleys  of  musketry  and  three  cheers.  She  re- 
turned the  salute  with  three  cheers  and  three  guns. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  cutting  down  trees, 
clearing  away  thickets,  and  marking  out  the  place 
for  the  residence,  storehouse,  and  powder  maga- 
zine, which  were  to  be  built  of  logs  and  covered 
with  bark.  Others  landed  the  timbers  intended 
tor  the  frame  of  the  coasting  vessel,  and  proceed- 
ed to  put  them  together,  while  others  prepared 
a  garden  spot,  and  sowed  the  seeds  of  various 
vegetables. 

The  next  thought  was  to  give  a  name  to  the 
embryo  metropolis  ;  the  one  that  naturally  pre- 
sented itself  was  that  of  the  projector  and  sup- 
porter of  the  whole  enterprise.  It  was  accord- 
ingly named  ASTORIA. 

The  neighboring  Indians  now  swarmed  about 
the  place.  Some  brought  a  few  land-otter  and  sea- 
otter  skins  to  barter,  but  in  very  scanty  parcels  ; 
the  greater  number  came  prying  about  to  gratify 
their  curiosity,  for  they  are  said  to  be  impertinent- 
ly inquisitive  ;  while  not  a  few  came  with  no 
other  design  than  to  pilfer  ;  the  laws  of  meum 
and  tit  it  m  being  but  slightly  respected  among 
them.  Some  of  them  beset  the  ship  in  their  ca- 
noes among  whom  was  the  Chinook  chief  Com- 
comly  and  his  liege  subjects.  These  were  well 
received  by  Mr.  M'Dougal,  who  was  delighted 
with  an  opportunity  of  entering  upon  his  func- 
tions and  acquiring  importance  in  the  eyes  of  his 
future  neighbors.  The  confusion  thus  produced 
on  board,  and  the  derangement  of  the  cargo 
caused  by  this  petty  trade,  stirred  the  spleen  of 
the  captain,  who  had  a  sovereign  contempt  for 
the  one-eyed  chieftain  and  all  his  crew.  He  com- 
plained loudly  of  having  his  ship  lumbered  by  a 
host  of  "Indian  ragamuffins,"  who  had  not  a 
skin  to  dispose  of,  and  at  length  put  his  positive 
interdict  upon  all  trafficking  on  board.  Upon 
this  Mr.  M'Dougal  was  fain  to  land,  and  establish 
his  quarters  at  the  encampment,  where  he  could 
exercise  his  rights  and  enjoy  his  dignities  without 
control. 

The  feud,  however,  between  these  rival  powers 
still  continued,  but  was  chiefly  carried  on  by  letter. 
Day  after  day  and  week  after  week  elapsed,  yet 
the  storehouses  requisite  for  the  reception  of  the 
cargo  were  not  completed,  and  the  ship  was  de- 
tained in  port  ;  while  the  captain  was  teased  by 
frequent  requisitions  for  various  articles  for  the 
use  of  the  establishment,  or  the  trade  with  the  na- 
tives. An  angry  correspondence  took  place,  in 
which  he  complained  bitterly  of  the  time  wasted 
in  "  smoking  and  sporting  parties,"  as  he  termed 
the  reconnoitering  expeditions,  and  in  clearing 
and  preparing  meadow  ground  and  turnip  patches 
instead  of  dispatching  his  ship.  At  length  all 
these  jarring  matters  were  adjusted,  if  not  to  the 
satisfaction,  at  least  to  the  acquiescence  of  all 
parties.  The  part  of  the  cargo  destined  for  the 
use  of  Astoria  was  landed,  and  the  ship  left  free 
to  proceed  on  her  voyage. 


As  the  Tonquin  was  to  coast  to  the  north,  to 
trade  for  peltries  at  the  different  harbors,  and  to 
touch  at  Astoria  on  her  return  in  the  autumn,  it 
was  unanimously  determined  that  Mr.  M'Kay 
should  go  in  her  as  supercargo,  taking  with  him 
Mr.  Lewis  as  ship's  clerk.  On  the  first  of  June 
the  ship  got  under  way,  and  dropped  down  to 
Baker's  Bay,  where  she  was  detained  for  a  few 
days  by  a  head  wind  ;  but  early  in  the  morning 
of  the  fifth  stood  out  to  sea  with  a  fine  breeze  and 
swelling  canvas,  and  swept  off  gayly  on  her  fatal 
voyage,  from  which  she  was  never  to  return  ! 

On  reviewing  the  conduct  of  Captain  Thorn, 
and  examining  his  peevish  and  somewhat  whimsi- 
cal correspondence,  the  impression  lelt  upon  our 
mind  is  upon  the  whole  decidedly  in  his  favor. 
While  we  smile  at  the  simplicity  of  his  heart  and 
the  narrowness  of  his  views,  which  made  him  re- 
gard everything  out  of  the  direct  path  of  his  daily 
duty,  and  the  rigid  exigencies  of  the  service,  as  triv- 
ial and  impertinent,  which  inspired  him  with 
contempt  for  the  swelling  vanity  of  some  of  his 
coadjutors,  and  the  literary  exercises  and  curious 
researches  of  others,  we  cannot  but  applaud  that 
strict  and  conscientious  devotion  to  the  interests 
of  his' employer,  and  to  what  he  considered  the 
true  objects  of  the  enterprise  in  which  he  was  en- 
gaged. He  certainly  was  to  blame  occasionally 
for  the  asperity  of  his  manners  and  the  arbitrary 
nature  of  his  measures,  yet  much  that  is  excep- 
tionable in  this  part  of  his  conduct  may  be  traced 
to  rigid  notions  of  duty,  acquired  in  that  tyranni- 
cal school,  a  ship  of  war,  and  to  the  construction 
given  by  his  companions  to  the  orders  of  Mr. 
Astor,  so  little  in  conformity  with  his  own.  His 
mind,  too,  appears  to  have  become  almost  dis- 
eased by  the  suspicions  he  had  formed  as  to  the 
loyalty  of  his  associates  and  the  nature  of  their 
ultimate  designs  ;  yet  on  this  point  there  were 
circumstances  to,  in  some  measure,  justify  him. 
The  relations  between  the  United  States  and 
Great  Britain  were  at  that  time  in  a  critical  state  ; 
in  fact,  the  two  countries  were  on  the  eve  of  a 
war.  Several  of  the  partners  were.  British  sub- 
jects, and  might  be  ready  to  desert  the  Hag  under 
which  they  acted,  should  a  war  take  place.  Their 
application  to  the  British  minister  at  New  York 
shows  the  dubious  feeling  with  which  they  had 
embarked  in  the  present  enterprise.  They  had 
been  in  the  employ  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
and  might  be  disposed  to  rally  again  under  that 
association,  should  events  threaten  the  prosperity 
of  this  embryo  establishment  of  Mr.  Astor.  Be- 
sides, we  have  the  fact,  averred  to  us  by  one  of 
the  partners,  that  some  of  them,  who  were  young 
and  heedless,  took  a  mischievous  and  unwarrant- 
able pleasure  in  playing  upon  the  jealous  temper 
of  the  captain,  and  affecting  mysterious  consulta- 
tions and  sinister  movements. 

These  circumstances  are  cited  in  palliation  of 
the  doubts  and  surmises  of  Captain  Thorn,  which 
might  otherwise  appear  strange  and  unreason- 
able. That  most  of  the  partners  were  perfectly 
upright  and  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  the  trust 
reposed  in  them  we  are  fully  satisfied  ;  still  the 
honest  captain  was  not  invariably  wrong  in  his 
suspicions  ;  and  that  he  formed  a  pretty  just 
opinion  of  the  integrity  of  that  aspiring  person- 
age, Mr.  M'Dougal,  will  be  substantially  proved 
in  the  sequel.  

CHAPTER  X. 

WHILE  the  Astorians  were  busily  occupied  in 
completing  their  factory  and  fort,  a  repor.t  was 


324 


ASTORIA. 


brought  to  them  by  an  Indian  from  the  upper 
part  of  the  river,  that  a  party  of  thirty  white  men 
had  appeared  on  the  banks  of  the  Columbia,  and 
were  actually  building  houses  at  the  second  rap- 
ids. This  information  caused  much  disquiet.  We 
have  already  mentioned  that  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany had  established  posts  to  the  west  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  in  a  district  called  by  them 
New  Caledonia,  which  extended  from  lat.  52°  to 
55°  north,  being  within  the  British  territories.  It 
was  now  apprehended  that  they  were  advancing 
within  the  American  limits,  and  were  endeavor- 
ing to  seize  upon  the  upper  part  of  the  river  and 
forestall  the  American  Fur  Company  in  the  sur- 
rounding trade  ;  in  which  case  bloody  feuds 
might  be  anticipated,  such  as  had  prevailed  be- 
tween the  rival  fur  companies  in  former  days. 

A  reconnoitring  party  was  sent  up  the  river  to 
ascertain  the  truth  of  the  report.  They  ascended 
to  the  foot  of  the  first  rapid,  about  two  hundred 
miles,  but  could  hear  nothing  of  any  white  men 
being  in  the  neighborhood. 

Not  long  atter  their  return,  however,  further 
accounts  were  received,  by  two  wandering  In- 
dians, which  established  the  fact  that  the  North- 
west Company  had  actually  erected  a  trading 
house  on  the  Spokan  River,  which  falls  into  the 
north  branch  of  the  Columbia. 

What  rendered  this  intelligence  the  more  dis- 
quieting was  the  inability  of  the  Astorians,  in  their 
present  reduced  state  as  to  numbers,  and  the  exi- 
gencies of  their  new  establishment,  to  furnish  de- 
tachments to  penetrate  the  country  in  different 
directions,  and  fix  the  posts  necessary  to  secure 
the  interior  trade. 

It  was  resolved,  however,  at  any  rate,  to  ad- 
vance a  counter-check  to  this  post  on  the  Spokan, 
and  one  of  the  partners,  Mr.  David  Stuart,  pre- 
pared to  set  out  for  the  purpose  with  eight  men 
and  a  small  assortment  of  goods.  He  was  to  be 
guided  by  the  two  Indians,  who  knew  the  country, 
and  promised  to  take  him  to  a  place  not  far  from 
the  Spokan  River,  and  in  a  neighborhood  abound- 
ing with  beaver.  Here  he  was  to  establish 
himself  and  to  remain  for  a  time,  provided  he 
found  the  situation  advantageous  and  the  natives 
friendly. 

On  the  1 5th  of  July,  when  Mr.  Stuart  was  near- 
ly ready  to  embark,  a  canoe  made  its  appearance, 
standing  for  the  harbor,  and  manned  by  nine 
white  men.  Much  speculation  took  place  who 
these  strangers  could  be,  for  it  was  too  soon  to 
expect  their  own  people,  under  Mr.  Hunt,  who 
were  to  cross  the  continent.  As  the  canoe  drew 
near,  the  British  standard  was  distinguished  ;  on 
coining  to  land,  one  of  the  crew  stepped  on  shore, 
and  announced  himself  as  Mr.  David  Thompson, 
astronomer,  and  partner  of  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany. According  to  his  account,  he  had  set  out 
in  the  preceding  year  with  a  tolerably  strong 
party,  and  a  supply  of  Indian  goods,  to  cross  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  A  part  of  his  people,  how- 
ever, had  deserted  him  on  the  eastern  side,  and 
returned  with  the  goods  to  the  nearest  north-west 
post.  He  had  persisted  in  crossing  the  moun- 
tains with  eight  men,  who  remained  true  to  him. 
They  had  traversed  the  higher  regions,  and  ven- 
tured near  the  source  of  the  Columbia,  where,  in 
the  spring,  they  had  constructed  a  cedar  canoe, 
the  same  in  which  they  had  reached  Astoria. 

This,  in  fact,  was  the  party  dispatched  by  the 
Northwest  Company  to  anticipate  Mr.  Astor  in 
his  intention  of  effecting  a  settlement  at  the  mouth, 
of  the  Columbia  River.  It  appears,  trom  infor- 
mation subsequently  derived  from  other,  sources, 


that  Mr.  Thompson  had  pushed  on  his  course 
with  great  haste,  calling  at  all  the  Indian  villages 
in  his  march,  presenting  them  with  British  flags, 
and  even  planting  them  at  the  forks  of  the  rivers, 
proclaiming  formally  that  he  took  possession  of 
the  country  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  Great 
Britain  for  the  Northwest  Company.  As  his  orig- 
inal plan  was  defeated  by  the  desertion  of  his 
people,  it  is  probable  that  he  descended  the  river 
simply  to  reconnoitre,  and  ascertain  whether  an 
American  settlement  had  been  commenced. 

Mr.  Thompson  was,  no  doubt,  the  first  white 
man  who  descended  the  northern  branch  of  the 
Columbia  from  so  near  its  source.  Lewis  and 
Clarke  struck  the  main  body  of  the  river  at  the 
forks,  about  four  hundred  miles  trom  its  mouth. 
They  entered  it  from  Lewis  River,  its  southern 
branch,  and  thence  descended. 

Though  Mr.  Thompson  could  be  considered  as 
little  better  than  a  spy  in  the  camp,  he  was  re- 
ceived with  great  cordiality  by  Mr.  M'Dougal, 
who  had  a  lurking  feeling  of  companionship  and 
good-will  for  all  of  the  Northwest  Company.  He 
invited  him  to  head-quarters,  where  he  and  his 
people  were  hospitably  entertained.  Nay,  fur- 
ther ;  being  somewhat  in  extremity,  he  was  fur- 
nished by  Mr.  M'Dougal  with  goods  and  provi- 
sions for  his  journey  back  across  the  mountains, 
much  against  the  wishes  of  Mr.  David  Stuart, 
who  did  not  think  the  object  of  his  visit  entitled 
him  to  any  favor. 

On  the  2jd  of  July  Mr.  Stuart  set  out  upon  his 
expedition  to  the  interior.  His  party  consisted  of 
four  of  the  clerks,  Messrs.  Fillet,  Ross,  M'Len- 
non,  and  Montigny,  two  Canadian  voyageurs,  and 
two  natives  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  They  had 
three  canoes  well  laden  with  provisions,  and  with 
goods  and  necessaries  for  a  trading  establishment. 

Mr.  Thompson  and  his  party  set  out  in  com- 
pany with  them,  it  being  his  intention  to  proceed 
direct  to  Montreal.  The  partners  at  Astoria  for- 
warded by  him  a  short  letter  to  Mr.  Astor  inform- 
ing him  of  their  safe  arrival  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia,  and  that  they  had  not  yet  heard  of  Mr. 
Hunt.  The  little  squadron  of  canoes  set  sail  with 
a  favorable  breeze,  and  soon  passed  Tongue  Point, 
a  long,  high,  and  rocky  promontory,  covered  with 
trees,  and  stretching  far  into  the  river.  Opposite 
to  this,  on  the  northern  shore,  is  a  deep  bay, 
where  the  Columbia  anchored  at  the  lime  of  the 
discovery,  and  which  is  still  called  Gray's  Bay, 
from  the  name  of  her  commander. 

From  hence  the  general  course  of  the  river  for 
about  seventy  miles  was  nearly  southeast,  vary- 
ing in  breadth  according  to  its  bays  and  indenta- 
tions, and  navigable  for  vessels  of  three  hundred 
tons.  The  shores  were  in  some  places  high  and 
rocky,  with  low,  marshy  islands  at  their  feet,  sub- 
ject to  inundation,  and  covered  with  willows, 
poplars,  and  other  trees  that  love  an  alluvial  soil. 
Sometimes  the  mountains  receded,  and  gave 
place  to  beautiful  plains  and  noble  forests.  While 
the  river  margin  was  richly  fringed  with  trees  of 
deciduous  foliage,  the  rough  uplands  were  crowned 
by  majestic  pines,  and  firs  of  gigantic  size,  some 
towering  to  the  height  of  between  two  and  three 
hundred  feet,  with  proportionate  circumference. 
Out  of  these  the  Indians  wrought  their  great 
canoes  and  pirogues. 

At  one  part  of  the  river,  they  passed,  on  the 
northern  side,  an  isolated  rock,  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  high,  rising  from  a  low,  marshy 
soil,  and  totally  disconnected  with  the  adjacent 
mountains.  This  was  held  in  great  reverence  by 
the  neighboring  Indians,  being  one  of  their  prin- 


ASTORIA. 


325 


cipal  places  of  sepulture.  The  same  provident 
care  tor  the  deceased  that  prevails  among  the 
hunting  tribes  of  the  prairies  is  observable  among 
the  piscatory  tribes  of  the  rivers  and  sea-coast. 
Among  the  former  the  favorite  horse  of  the  hunt- 
er is  buried  with  him  in  the  same  funereal  mound, 
and  his  bow  and  arrows  are  laid  by  his  side,  that 
he  may  be  perfectly  equipped  for  the  "  happy 
hunting  grounds"  of  the  land  of  spirits.  Among 
the  latter,  the  Indian  is  wrapped  in  his  mantle  of 
skins,  laid  in  his  canoe,  with  his  paddle,  his  fishing 
spear,  and  other  implements  beside  him,  and 
placed  aloft  on  some  rock  or  other  eminence  over- 
looking the  river,  or  bay,  or  lake,  that  he  has  fre- 
quented. He  is  thus  fitted  out  to  launch  away 
upon  those  placid  streams  and  sunny  lakes, 
stocked  with  all  kinds  of  fish  and  waterfowl,  which 
are  prepared  in  the  next  world  for  those  who  have 
acquitted  themselves  as  good  sons,  good  fathers, 
good  husbands,  and,  above  all,  good  fishermen, 
during  their  mortal  sojourn. 

The  isolated  rock  in  question  presented  a  spec- 
tacle of  the  kind,  numerous  dead  bodies  being  de- 
posited in  canoes  on  its  summit  ;  while  on  poles 
around  were  trophies,  or,  rather,  funereal  offerings 
of  trinkets,  garments,  baskets  of  roots,  and  other 
articles  for  the  use  of  the  deceased.  A  reverential 
feeling  protects  these  sacred  spots  from  robbery  or 
insult.  The  friends  of  the  deceased,  especially  the 
women,  repair  here  at  sunrise  and  sunset  for 
some  time  after  his  death,  singing  his  funeral 
dirge,  and  uttering  loud  wailings  and  lamenta- 
tions. 

From  the  number  of  dead  bodies  in  canoes  ob- 
served upon  this  rock  by  the  first  explorers  of  the 
river,  it  received  the  name  of  Mount  Coffin,  which 
it  continues  to  bear. 

Beyond  this  rock  they  passed  the  mouth  of  a 
river  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Columbia,  which 
appeared  to  take  its  rise  in  a  distant  mountain 
covered  with  snow.  The  Indian  name  of  this 
river  was  the  Cowleskee.  Some  miles  fur- 
ther on  they  came  to  the  great  Columbian 
valley,  so  called  by  Lewis  and  Clarke.  It  is 
sixty  miles  in  width,  and  extends  far  to  the 
south-southeast  between  parallel  ridges  of  moun- 
tains, which  bound  it  on  the  east  and  west. 
Through  the  centre  of  this  valley  flowed  a  large 
and  beautiful  stream,  called  the  Wallamot,* 
which  came  wandering  for  several  hundred  miles, 
through  a  yet  unexplored  wilderness.  The  shel- 
tered situation  of  this  immense  valley  had  an  ob- 
vious effect  upon  the  climate.  It  was  a  region  of 
great  beauty  and  luxuriance,  with  lakes  and  pools, 
and  green  meadows  shaded  by  noble  groves.  Va- 
rious tribes  were  said  to  reside  in  this  valley  and 
along  the  banks  of  the  Wallamot. 

About  eight  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  Wal- 
lamot the  little  squadron  arrived  at  Vancouver's 
Point,  so  called  in  honor  of  that  celebrated  voy- 
ager by  his  lieutenant  (Broughton)  when  he  ex- 
plored the  river.  This  point  is  said  to  present  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  scenes  on  the  Columbia — a 
lovely  meadow,  with  a  silver  sheet  of  limpid  water 
in  the  centre,  enlivened  by  wild-fowl,  a  range  of 
hills  crowned  by  forests,  while  the  prospect  is 
closed  by  Mount  Hood,  a  magnificent  mountain 
rising  into  a  lofty  peak,  and  covered  with  snow  ; 
the  ultimate  landmark  of  the  first  explorers  of  the 
river. 

Point  Vancouver  is  about  one  hundred  miles 
from  Astoria.  Here  the  reflux  of  the  tide  ceases 


*  Pronounced  Wallamot,  the    accent    being   upon 
the  second  syllable. 


to  be  perceptible.  To  this  place  vessels  of  two  and 
three  hundred  tons  burden  may  ascend.  The 
party  under  the  command  of  Mr.  Stuart  had  been 
three  or  four  days  in  reaching  it,  though  we  have 
forborne  to  notice  their  daily  progress  and  nightly 
encampments. 

From  Point  Vancouver  the  river  turned  toward 
the  northeast,  and  became  more  contracted  and 
rapid,  with  occasional  islands  and  frequent  sand- 
banks. These  islands  are  furnished  with  a  num- 
ber of  ponds,  and  at  certain  seasons  abound  with 
swan,  geese,  brandts,  cranes,  gulls,  plover,  and 
other  wild-fowl.  The  shores,  too,  are  low,  and 
closely  wooded,  and  covered  with  such  an  under- 
growth of  vines  and  rushes  as  to  be  almost  im- 
passable. 

About  thirty  miles  above  Point  Vancouver  the 
mountains  again  approach  on  both  sides  of  the 
river,  which  is  bordered  by  stupendous  precipices, 
covered  with  the  fir  and  the  white  cedar,  and  en- 
livened occasionally  by  beautiful  cascades  leaping 
from  a  great  height,  and  sending  up  wreaths  of 
vapor.  One  of  these  precipices,  or  cliffs,  is  cu- 
riously worn  by  time  and  weather  so  as  to  have  the 
appearance  of  a  ruined  fortress,  with  towers  and 
battlements  beetling  high  above  the  river  ;  while 
two  small  cascades,  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in 
height,  pitch  down  from  the  fissures  of  the  rocks. 

The  turbulence  and  rapidity  of  the  current  con- 
tinually augmenting  as  they  advanced,  gave  the 
voyagers  intimation  that  they  were  approaching 
the  great  obstructions  of  the  river,  and  at  length 
they  arrived  at  Strawberry  Island,  so  called  by 
Lewis  and  Clarke,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  first 
rapid.  As  this  part  of  the  Columbia  will  be  re- 
peatedly mentioned  in  the  course  of  this  work, 
being  the  scene  of  some  of  its  incidents,  we  shall 
give  a  general  description  of  it  in  this  place. 

The  falls  or  rapids  of  the  Columbia  are  situated 
about  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  above  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  The  first  is  a  perpendicular 
cascade  of  twenty  feet,  after  which  there  is  a  swift 
descent  for  a  mile,  between  islands  of  hard  black 
rock,  to  another  pitch  of  eight  feet  divided  by  two 
rocks.  About  two  and  a  half  miles  below  this  the 
river  expands  into  a  wide  basin,  seemingly 
dammed  up  by  a  perpendicular  ridge  of  black  rock. 
A  current,  however,  sets  diagonally  to  the  left  of 
this  rocky  barrier,  where  there  is  a  chasm  forty- 
five  yards  in  width.  Through  this  the  whole  body 
of  the  river  roars  along,  swelling  and  whirling  and 
boiling  tor  some  distance  in  the  wildest  confusion. 
Through  this  tremendous  channel  the  intrepid  ex.- 
plorers  of  the  river,  Lewis  and  Clarke,  passed  safe- 
ly in  their  boats  ;  the  danger  being,  not  from  the 
rocks,  but  from  the  great  surges  and  whirlpools. 

At  the  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half  from  the 
foot  of  this  narrow  channel  is  a  rapid,  formed  by- 
two  rocky  islands  ;  and  two  miles  beyond  is  a  sec- 
ond great  fall,  over  a  ledge  'of  rocks  twenty  feet 
high,  extending  nearly  from  shore  to  shore.  The 
river  is  again  compressed  into  a  channel  from  fifty 
to  a  hundred  feet  wide,  worn  through  a  rough 
bed  of  hard  black  rock,  along  which  it  boils  and 
roars  with  great  fury  for  the  distance  ot  three  miles. 
This  is  called  "  The  Long  Narrows." 

Here  is  the  great  fishing  place  of  the  Columbia. 
In  the  spring  of  the  year,  when  the  water  is  high, 
the  salmon  ascend  the  river  in  incredible  numbers. 
As  they  pass  through  this  narrow  strait,  the  In- 
dians, standing  on  the  rocks,  or  on  the  end  of 
wooden  stages  projecting  from  the  banks,  scoop 
them  up  with  small  nets  distended  on  hoops  and 
attached  to  long  handles,  and  cast  them  on  the 
shore. 


326 


ASTORIA. 


They  are  then  cured  and  packed  in  a  peculiar 
manner.  After  having  been  opened  and  disem- 
bowelled, they  are  exposed  to  the  sun  on  scaffolds 
erected  on  the  river  banks.  When  sufficiently  dry, 
they  are  pounded  fine  between  two  stones,  pressed 
into  the  smallest  compass,  and  packed  in  baskets 
or  bales  of  grass  matting,  about  two  feet  long  and 
one  in  diameter,  lined  with  the  cured  skin  of  a 
salmon.  The  top  is  likewise  covered  with  fish- 
skins,  secured  by  cords  passing  through  holes  in 
the  edge  of  the  basket.  Packages  are  then  made, 
each  containing  twelve  of  these  bales,  seven  at 
bottom,  five  at  top,  pressed  close  to  each  other, 
with  the  corded  side  upward,  wrapped  in  mats  and 
corded.  These  are  placed  in  dry  situations,  and 
again  covered  with  matting.  Each  of  these  pack- 
ages contains  from  ninety  to  a  hundred  pounds  of 
dried  fish,  which  in  this  state  will  keep  sound  for 
several  years.* 

We  have  given  this  process  at  some  length,  as 
furnished  by  the  first  explorers,  because  it  marks 
a  practised  ingenuity  in  preparing  articles  of 
traffic  for  a  market,  seldom  seen  among  our  abo- 
riginals. For  like  reasons  we  would  make  espe- 
cial mention  of  the  village  of  Wish-ram,  at  the 
head  of  the  Long  Narrows,  as  being  a  solitary  in- 
stance of  an  aboriginal  trading  mart,  or  empo- 
rium. Here  the  salmon  caught  in  the  neighbor- 
ing rapids  were  "  warehoused,"  to  await  custom- 
ers. Hither  the  tribes  from  the  mouth  of  the  Co- 
lumbia repaired  with  the  fish  of  the  sea-coast,  the 
roots,  berries,  and  especially  the  wappatoo,  gath- 
ered in  the  lower  parts  of  the  river,  together 
with  goods  and  trinkets  obtained  from  the  ships 
which  casually  visit  the  coast.  Hither  also  the 
tribes  from  the  Rocky  Mountains  brought  down 
horses,  bear-grass,  quamash,  and  other  commod- 
ities of  the  interior.  The  merchant  fishermen 
at  the  falls  acted  as  middlemen  or  factors,  and 
passed  the  objects  of  traffic,  as  it  were,  cross-hand- 
ed :  trading  away  part  of  the  wares  received 
from  the  mountain  tribes  to  those  of  the  river  and 
the  plains,  and  vice  versa  :  their  packages  of 
pounded  salmon  entered  largely  into  the  system 
of  barter,  and  being  carried  off  in  opposite  direc- 
tions found  their  way  to  the  savage  hunting 
camps  far  in  the  interior,  and  to  the  casual  white 
traders  who  touched  upon  the  coast. 

We  have  already  noticed  certain  contrarieties 
of  character  between  the  Indian  tribes,  produced 
by  their  diet  and  mode  of  life  ;  and  nowhere  are 
they  more  apparent  than  about  the  falls  of  the  Co- 
lumbia. The  Indians  of  this  great  fishing  mart 
are  represented  by  the  earliest  explorers  as  sleeker 
and  fatter,  but  less  hardy  and  active,  than  the 
tribes  of  the  mountains  and  the  prairies,  who  live 
by  hunting,  or  of  the  upper  parts  of  the  river,  where 
fish  is  scanty  and  the  inhabitants  must  eke  out 
their  subsistence  by  digging  roots  or  chasing  the 
deer.  Indeed,  whenever  an  Indian  of  the  upper 
country  is  too  lazy  to  hunt,  yet  is  fond  of  good 
living,  he  repairs  to  the  falls,  to  live  in  abundance 
without  labor. 

"  By  such  worthless  dogs  as  these,"  says  an  hon- 
est trader  in  his  journal,  which  now  lies  before  us, 
"  by  such  worthless  dogs  as  these  are  these  noted 
fishing  places  peopled,  which,  like  our  great  cities, 
may  with  propriety  be  called  the  head-quarters  of 
vitiated  principles." 

The  habits  of  trade  and  the  avidity  of  gain  have 
their  corrupting  effects  even  in  the  wilderness,  as 
may  be  instanced  in  the  members  of  this  aborigi- 
nal emporium  ;  for  the  same  journalist  denounces 

*  Lewis  and  Clarke,  vol.  ii.  p.  32. 


them  as  "  saucy,  impudent  rascals,  who  will  steal 
when  they  can,  and  pillage  whenever  a  weak  party 
falls  in  their  power." 

That  he  does  not  belie  them  will  be  evidenced 
hereafter,  when  we  have  occasion  again  to  touch 
at  Wish-ram  and  navigate  the  rapids.  In  the  pres- 
ent instance  the  travellers  effected  the  laborious 
ascent  of  this  part  of  the  river,  with  all  its  various 
portages,  without  molestation,  and  once  more 
launched  away  in  smooth  water  above  the  high 
falls. 

The  two  parties  continued  together,  without 
material  impediment,  for  three  or  four  hundred 
miles  further  up  the  Columbia  ;  Mr.  Thompson 
appearing  to  take  great  interest  in  the  success  of 
Mr.  Stuart,  and  pointing  out  places  favorable,  as 
he  said,  to  the  establishment  of  his  contemplated 
trading  post. 

Mr.  Stuart  who  distrusted  his  sincerity,  at  length 
pretended  to  adopt  his  advice,  and,  taking  leave 
of  him,  remained  as  if  to  establish  himself,  while 
the  other  proceeded  on  his  course  toward  the 
mountains.  No  sooner,  however,  had  he  fairly 
departed  than  Mr.  Stuart  again  pushed  forward, 
under  guidance  of  the  two  Indians,  nor  did  he  stop 
until  he  had  arrived  within  about  one  hundred  and 
forty  miles  of  the  Spokan  River,  which  he  consid- 
ered near  enough  to  keep  the  rival  establishment 
in  check. 

The  place  which  he  pitched  upon  for  his  trading 
post  was  a  point  of  land  about  three  miles  in 
length  and  two  in  breadth,  formed  by  the  junc- 
tion of  the  Oakinagan  with  the  Columbia.  The 
former  is  a  river  which  has  its  source  in  a  consid- 
erable lake  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  west 
of  the  point  of  junction.  The  two  rivers,  about  the 
place  of  their  confluence,  are  bordered  by  im- 
mense prairies  covered  with  herbage  but  destitute 
of  trees.  The  point  itself  was  ornamented  with 
wild  flowers  of  every  hue,  in  which  innumerable 
humming-birds  were  "  banqueting  nearly  the 
live-long  day." 

The  situation  of  this  point  appeared  to  be  well 
adapted  for  a  trading  post.  The  climate  was  salu- 
brious, the  soil  fertile,  the  rivers  well  stocked  with 
fish,  the  natives  peaceable  and  friendly.  There 
were  easy  communications  with  the  interior  by 
the  upper  waters  of  the  Columbia  and  the  lateral 
stream  of  the  Oakinagan,  while  the  downward  cur- 
rent of  the  Columbia  furnished  a  highway  to  As- 
toria. 

Availing  himself,  therefore,  of  the  driftwood 
which  had  collected  in  quantities  in  the  neighbor- 
ing bends  of  the  river,  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  men  set 
to  work  to  erect  a  house,  which  in  a  little  while 
was  sufficiently  completed  for  their  residence  ; 
and  thus  was  established  the  first  interior  post  of 
the  company.  We  will  now  return  to  notice  the 
progress  of  affairs  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  sailing  of  the  Tonquin,  and  the  departure 
of  Mr.  David  Stuart  and  his  detachment,  had  pro- 
duced a  striking  effect  on  affairs  at  Astoria.  The 
natives  who  had  swarmed  about  the  place  began 
immediately  to  drop  off,  until  at  length  not  an  In- 
dian was  to  be  seen.  This,  at  first,  was  attrib- 
uted to  the  want  of  peltries  with  which  to  trade  ; 
but  in  a  little  while  the  mystery  was  explained  in 
a  more  alarming  manner.  A  conspiracy  was  said 
to  be  on  foot  among  the  neighboring  tribes  to 
make  a  combined  attack  upon  the  white  men,  now 
that  they  were  so  reduced  in  number.  For  this 


ASTORIA. 


327 


purpose  there  had  been  a  gathering  of  warriors  in 
a  neighboring  bay,  under  pretext  of  fishing  for 
sturgeon  ;  and  fleets  of  canoes  were  expected  to 
join  them  from  the  north  and  south.  Even  Com- 
comly,  the  one-eyed  chief,  notwithstanding  his  pro- 
fessed friendship  for  Mr.  M'Dougal,  was  strongly 
suspected  of  being  concerned  in  this  general  com- 
bination. 

Alarmed  at  rumors  of  this  impending  danger, 
the  Astorians  suspended  their  regular  labor,  and 
set  to  work,  with  all  haste,  to  throw  up  temporary 
works  for  refuge  and  defence.  In  the  course  of  a 
few  days  they  surrounded  their  dwelling-house  and 
magazines  with  a  picket  fence  ninety  feet  square, 
flanked  by  two  bastions,  on  which  were  mounted 
four  four-pounders.  Every  day  they  exercised 
themselves  in  the  use  of  their  weapons,  so  as  to 
qualify  themselves  for  military  duty,  and  at  night 
esconced  themselves  in  their  fortress  and  posted 
sentinels,  to  guard  against  surprise.  In  this  way 
they  hoped,  even  in  case  of  attack,  to  be  able  to 
hold  out  until  the  arrival  of  the  party  to  be  con- 
ducted by  Mr.  Hunt  across  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
or  until  the  return  of  the  Tonquin.  The  latter  de- 
pendence, however,  was  doomed  soon  to  be  de- 
stroyed. Early  in  August  a  wandering  band  of 
savages  from  the  Strait  of  Juan  de  Fuca  made 
their  appearance  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia, 
where  they  came  to  fish  for  sturgeon.  They 
brought  disastrous  accounts  of  the  Tonquin, 
which  were  at  first  treated  as  mere  fables,  but 
which  were  too  sadly  confirmed  by  a  different 
tribe  that  arrived  a  few  days  subsequently.  We 
shall  relate  the  circumstances  of  this  melancholy 
affair  as  correctly  as  the  casual  discrepancies  in 
the  statements  that  have  reached  us  will  permit. 

We  have  already  stated  that  the  Tonquin  set 
sail  from  the  mouth  of  the  river  on  the  fifth  of 
June.  The  whole  number  of  persons  on  board 
amounted  to  twenty-three.  In  one  of  the  outer 
bays  they  picked  up,  from  a  fishing  canoe,  an  In- 
dian named  Lamazee,  who  had  already  made  two 
voyages  along  the  coast,  and  knew  something  of 
the  language  of  the  various  tribes.  He  agreed  to 
accompany  them  as  interpreter. 

Steering  to  the  north,  Captain  Thorn  arrived  in 
a  few  days  at  Vancouver's  Island,  and  anchored 
in  the  harbor  of  Neweetee,  very  much  against  the 
advice  of  his  Indian  interpreter,  who  warned  him 
against  the  perfidious  character  of  the  natives  of 
this  part  of  the  coast.  Numbers  of  canoes  soon 
came  off,  bringing  sea-otter  skins  to  sell.  It  was 
too  late  in  the  day  to  commence  a  traffic,  but  Mr. 
M'Kay,  accompanied  by  a  few  of  the  men,  went 
on  shore  to  a  large  village  to  visit  Wicananish, 
the  chief  of  the  surrounding  territory,  six  of  the 
natives  remaining  on  board  as  hostages.  He  was 
received  with  great  professions  of  friendship,  en- 
tertained hospitably,  and  a  couch  of  sea-otter 
skins  was  prepared  for  him  in  the  dwelling  of  the 
chieftain,  where  he  was  prevailed  upon  to  pass  the 
night. 

In  the  morning,  before  Mr.  M'Kay  had  re- 
turned to  the  ship,  great  numbers  of  the  natives 
came  off  in  their  canoes  to  trade,  headed  by  two 
sons  of  Wicananish.  As  they  brought  abundance 
of  sea-otter  skins,  and  there  was  every  appearance 
of  a  brisk  trade,  Captain  Thorn  did  not  wait  for 
the  return  of  Mr.  M'Kay,  but  spread  his  wares 
upon  deck,  making  a  tempting  display  of  blankets, 
cloths,  knives,  beads,  and  fish-hooks,  expecting  a 
prompt  and  profitable  sale.  The  Indians,  how- 
ever, were  not  so  eager  and  simple  as  he  had  sup- 
posed, having  learned  the  art  of  bargaining  and 
the  value  of  merchandise  from  the  casual  traders 


along  the  coast.  They  were  guided,  too,  by  a 
shrewd  old  chief  named  Nookamis,  who  had 
grown  gray  in  traffic  with  New  England  skippers, 
and  prided  himself  upon  his  acuteness.  His 
opinion  seemed  to  regulate  the  market.  When 
Captain  Thorn  made  what  he  considered  a  liberal 
offer  for  an  otter-skin,  the  wily  old  Indian  treated 
it  with  scorn,  and  asked  more  than  double.  His 
comrades  all  took  their  cue  from  him,  and  not  an, 
otter-skin  was  to  be  had  at  a  reasonable  rate. 

The  old  fellow,  however,  overshot  his  mark,  and 
mistook  the  character  of  the  man  he  was  treating 
with.  Thorn  was  a  plain,  straightforward  sailor, 
who  never  had  two  minds  nor  two  prices  in  his 
dealings,  was  deficient  in  patience  and  pliancy, 
and  totally  wanting  in  the  chicanery  of  traffic.  He 
had  a  vast  deal  of  stern  but  honest  pride  in  his 
nature,  and,  moreover,  held  the  whole  savage 
race  in  sovereign  contempt.  Abandoning  all  fur- 
ther attempts,  therefore,  to  bargain  with  his 
shuffling  customers,  he  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  and  paced  up  and  down  the  deck  in  sullen 
silence.  The  cunning  old  Indian  followed  him  to 
and  fro,  holding  out  a  sea-otter  skin  to  him  at 
every  turn,  and  pestering  him  to  trade.  Finding 
other  means  unavailing,  he  suddenly  changed  his 
tone,  and  began  to  jeer  and  banter  him  upon  the 
mean  prices  he  offered.  This  was  too  much  for 
the  patience  of  the  captain,  who  was  never  re- 
markable for  relishing  a  joke,  especially  when  at 
his  own  expense.  Turning  suddenly  upon  his 
persecutor,  he  snatched  the  proffered  otter-skin 
from  his  hands,  rubbed  it  in  his  face,  and  dis- 
missed him  over  the  side  of  the  ship  with  no  very 
complimentary  application  to  accelerate  his  exit. 
He  then  kicked  the  peltries  to  the  right  and  left 
about  the  deck,  and  broke  up  the  market  in  the 
most  ignominious  manner.  Old  Nookamis  made 
for  shore  in  a  furious  passion,  in  which  he  was 
joined  by  Shewish,  one  of  the  sons  of  Wicana- 
nish, who  went  off  breathing  vengeance,  and 
the  ship  was  soon  abandoned  by  the  natives. 

When  Mr.  M'Kay  returned  on  board,  the  inter- 
preter related  what  had  passed,  and  begged  him 
to  prevail  upon  the  captain  to  make  sail,  as, 
from  his  knowledge  of  the  temper  and  pride  of 
the  people  of  the  place,  he  was  sure  they  would 
resent  the  indignity  offered  to  one  of  their  chiefs. 
Mr.  M'Kay,  who  himself  possessed  some  expe- 
rience of  Indian  character,  went  to  the  captain, 
who  was  still  pacing  the  deck  in  moody  humor, 
represented  the  danger  to  which  his  hasty  act  had 
exposed  the  vessel,  and  urged  him  to  weigh 
anchor.  The  captain  made  light  of  his  counsels, 
and  pointed  to  his  cannon  and  firearms  as  a  suffi» 
cient  safeguard  against  naked  savages.  Further 
remonstrances  only  provoked  taunting  replies  and 
sharp  altercations.  The  day  passed  away  without 
any  signs  of  hostility,  and  at  night  the  captain  re- 
tired as  usual  to  his  cabin,  taking  no  more  than 
the  usual  precautions. 

On  the  following  morning,  at  daybreak,  while 
the  captain  and  Mr.  M'Kay  were  yet  asleep,  a 
canoe  came  alongside,  in  which  were  twenty  In- 
dians, commanded  by  young  Shewish.  They  were 
unarmed,  their  aspect  and  demeanor  friendly,  and. 
they  held  up  otter-skins,  and  made  signs  indica- 
tive of  a  wish  to  trade.  The  caution  enjoined  by- 
Mr.  Astor,  in  respect  to  the  admission  of  Indians 
on  board  of  the  ship  had  been  neglected  for  some 
time  past,  and  the  officer  of  the  watch,  perceiving 
those  in  the  canoe  to  be  without  weapons,  and 
having  received  no  orders  to  the  contrary,  readily 
permitted  them  to  mount  the  deck.  Another 
canoe  soon  succeeded,  the  crew  of  which  was  like- 


328 


ASTORIA. 


wise  admitted.  In  a  little  while  other  canoes  came 
off,  and  Indians  were  soon  clambering  into  the 
vessel  on  all  sides. 

The  officer  of  the  watch  now  felt  alarmed,  and 
called  to  Captain  Thorn  and  Mr.  M'Kay.  By  the 
time  they  came  on  deck,  it  was  thronged  with  In- 
dians. The  interpreter  noticed  to  Mr.  M'Kay  that 
many  of  the  natives  wore  short  mantles  of  skins, 
and  intimated  a  suspicion  that  they  were  secretly 
armed.  Mr.  M'Kay  urged  the  captain  to  clear  the 
ship  and  get  under  way.  He  again  made  light  of 
the  advice,  but  the  augmented  swarm  of  canoes 
about  the  ship,  and  the  numbers  still  putting  off 
from  shore,  at  length  awakened  his  distrust,  and 
he  ordered  some  of  the  crew  to  weigh  anchor, 
while  some  were  sent  aloft  to  make  sail. 

The  Indians  now  offered  to  trade  with  the  cap- 
tain on  his  own  terms,  prompted,  apparently,  by 
the  approaching  departure  of  the  ship.  Accord- 
ingly, a  hurried  trade  was  commenced.  The  main 
articles  sought  by  the  savages  in  barter,  were 
knives  ;  as  fast  as  some  were  supplied  they 
moved  off,  and  others  succeeded.  By  degrees  they 
were  thus  distributed  about  the  deck,  and  all  with 
weapons. 

The  anchor  was  now  nearly  up,  the  sails  were 
loose,  and  the  captain,  in  a  loud  and  peremptory 
tone,  ordered  the  ship  to  be  cleared.  In  an  instant 
a  signal  yell  was  given:  it  was  echoed  on  every  side, 
knives  and  war-clubs  were  brandished  in  every 
direction,  and  the  savages  rushed  upon  their 
marked  victims. 

The  first  that  fell  was  Mr.  Lewis,  the  ship's 
clerk.  He  was  leaning,  with  folded  arms,  over  a 
bale  of  blankets,  engaged  in  bargaining,  when  he 
received  a  deadly  stab  in  the  back,  and  fell  down 
the  companion-way. 

Mr.  M'Kay,  who  was  seated  on  the  taffrail, 
sprang  on  his  feet,  but  was  instantly  knocked 
down  with  a  war-club  and  flung  backward  into 
the  sea,  where  he  was  dispatched  by  the  women  in 
the  canoes. 

In  the  mean  time  Captain  Thorn  made  desperate 
fight  against  fearful  odds.  He  was  a  powerful  as 
well  as  a  resolute  man,  but  he  had  come  upon 
deck  without  weapons.  Shewish,  the  young  chief, 
singled  him  out  as  his  peculiar  prey,  and  rushed 
upon  him  at  the  first  outbreak.  The  captain  had 
barely  time  to  draw  a  clasp-knife,  with  one  blow 
of  which  he  laid  the  young  savage  dead  at  his  feet. 
Several  of  the  stoutest  followers  of  Shewish  now 
set  upon  him.  He  defended  himself  vigorously, 
dealing  crippling  blows  to  right  and  left,  and 
strewing  the  quarter-deck  with  the  slain  and 
wounded.  His  object  was  to  fight  his  way  to  the 
cabin,  where  there  were  firearms  ;  but  he  was 
hemmed  in  with  foes,  covered  with  wounds,  and 
faint  with  loss  of  blood.  For  an  instant  he  leaned 
upon  the  tiller  wheel,  when  a  blow  from  behind, 
with  a  war-club,  felled  him  to  the  deck,  where  he 
was  dispatched  with  knives  and  thrown  over- 
board. 

While  this  was  transacting  upon  the  quarter- 
deck, a  chance-medley  fight  was  going  on  through- 
out the  ship.  The  crew  fought  desperately  with 
knives,  handspikes,  and  whatever  weapon  they 
could  seize  upon  in  the  moment  of  surprise.  They 
were  soon,  however,  overpowered  by  numbers, 
and  mercilessly  butchered. 

As  to  the  seven  who  had  been  sent  aloft  to  make 
sail,  they  contemplated  with  horror  the  carnage 
that  was  going  on  below.  Being  destitute  of 
weapons,  they  let  themselves  down  by  the  run- 
ning rigging,  in  hopes  of  getting  between  decks. 
One  fell  in  the  attempt,  and  was  instantly  dis- 


patched ;  another  received  a  death-blow  in  the 
back  as  he  was  descending  ;  a  third,  Stephen 
Weekes,  the  armorer,  was  mortally  wounded  as 
he  was  getting  down  the  hatchway. 

The  remaining  four  made  good  their  retreat  into 
the  cabin  where  they  found  Mr.  Lewis,  still  alive, 
though  mortally  wounded.  Barricading  the  cabin 
door,  they  broke  holes  through  the  companion- 
way,  and,  with  the  muskets  and  ammunition 
which  were  at  hand,  opened  a  brisk  fire  that  soon 
cleared  the  deck. 

Thus  far  the  Indian  interpreter,  from  whom 
these  particulars  are  derived,  had  been  an  eye- 
witness of  the  deadly  conflict.  He  had  taken  no 
part  in  it,  and  had  been  spared  by  the  natives  as 
being  of  their  race.  In  the  confusion  of  the  mo- 
ment he  took  refuge  with  the  rest,  in  the  canoes. 
The  survivors  of  the  crew  now  sallied  forth,  and 
discharged  some  of  the  deck  guns,  which  did 
great  execution  among  the  canoes,  and  drove  all 
the  savages  to  shore. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  no  one  ventured 
to  put  off  to  the  ship,  deterred  by  the  effects  of  the 
firearms.  The  night  passed  aw  iv  without  any- 
further  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  latives.  When 
the  day  dawned,  the  Tonquin  still  lay  at  anchor  in 
the  bay,  her  sails  all  loose  and  flapping  in  the 
wind,  and  no  one  apparently  on  board  of  her. 
After  a  time,  some  of  the  canoes  ventured  forth  to 
reconnoitre,  taking  with  them  the  interpreter. 
They  paddled  about  her,  keeping  cautiously  at  a 
distance,  but  growing  more  and  nore  emboldened 
at  seeing  her  quiet  and  lifeless.  One  man  at 
length  made  his  appearance  on  the  deck,  and  was 
recognized  by  the  interpreter  as  Mr.  Lewis.  He 
made  friendly  signs,  and  invited  them  on  board. 
It  was  long  before  they  ventured  to  comply.  Those 
who  mounted  the  deck  met  with  no  opposition  ; 
no  one  was  to  be  seen  on  board  ;  for  Mr.  Lewis, 
after  inviting  them,  had  disappeared.  Other  ca- 
noes now  pressed  forward  to  board  the  prize  ;  the 
decks  were  soon  crowded,  and  the  sides  covered 
with  clambering  savages,  all  intent  on  plunder. 
In  the  midst  of  their  eagerness  and  exultation,  the 
ship  blew  up  with  a  tremendous  explosion.  Arms, 
legs,  and  mutilated  bodies  were  blown  into  the  air, 
and  dreadful  havoc  was  made  in  the  surrounding 
canoes.  The  interpreter  was  in  the  main-chains 
at  the  time  of  the  explosion,  and  was  thrown  un- 
hurt into  the  water,  where  he  succeeded  in  getting 
into  one  of  the  canoes.  According  to  his  state- 
ment, the  bay  presented  an  awful  spectacle  after 
the  catastrophe.  The  ship  had  disappeared,  but 
the  bay  was  covered  with  fragments  of  the  wreck, 
with  shattered  canoes,  and  Indians  swimming  for 
their  lives,  or  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death  ; 
while  those  who  had  escaped  the  clanger  remained 
aghast  and  stupefied,  or  made  with  frantic  panic 
for  the  shore.  Upward  of  a  hundred  savages 
were  destroyed  by  the  explosion,  many  more  were 
shockingly  mutilated,  and  for  days  afterward  the 
limbs  and  bodies  of  the  slain  were  thrown  upon 
the  beach. 

The  inhabitants  of  Neweetee  were  overwhelmed 
with  consternation  at  this  astounding  calamity, 
which  had  burst  upon  them  in  the  very  moment  of 
triumph.  The  warriors  sat  mute  and  mournful, 
while  the  women  filled  the  air  with  loud  lamenta- 
tions. Their  weeping  and  wailing,  however,  was 
suddenly  changed  into  yells  of  fury  at  the  sight  of 
four  unfortunate  white  men,  brought  captive  into 
the  village.  They  had  been  driven  on  shore  in 
one  of  the  ship's  boats,  and  taken  at  some  dis- 
tance along  the  coast. 

The  interpreter  was  permitted  to  converse  with 


ASTORIA. 


329 


them.  They  proved  to  be  the  four  brave  fellows 
who  had  made  such  desperate  defence  from  the 
cabin.  The  interpreter  gathered  from  them  some 
of  the  particulars  already  related.  They  told  him 
further,  that,  after  they  had  beaten  off  the  enemy, 
and  cleared  the  ship,  Lewis  advised  that  they 
should  slip  the  cable  and  endeavor  to  get  to  sea. 
They  declined  to  take  his  advice,  alleging  that  the 
wind  set  too  strongly  into  the  bay,  and  would 
drive  them  on  shore.  They  resolved,  as  soon  as 
it  was  dark,  to  put  off  quietly  in  the  ship's  boat, 
which  they  would  be  able  to  do  unperceived,  and 
to  coast  along  back  to  Astoria.  They  put  their 
resolution  into  effect  ;  but  Lewis  refused  to  ac- 
company them,  being  disabled  by  his  wound, 
hopeless  of  escape,  and  determined  on  a  terrible 
revenge.  On  the  voyage  out,  he  had  repeatedly 
expressed  a  presentiment  that  he  should  die  by  his 
own  hands  ;  thinking  it  highly  probable  that  he 
should  be  engaged  in  some  contest  with  the  na- 
tives, and  being  resolved,  in  case  of  extremity,  to 
commit  suicide  rather  than  be  made  a  prisoner. 
He  now  declared  his  intention  to  remain  on  board 
of  the  ship  until  daylight,  to  decoy  as  many  of  the 
savages  on  board  as  possible,  then  to  set  fire  to 
the  powder  magazine,  and  terminate  his  life  by  a 
signal  act  of  vengeance.  How  well  he  succeeded 
has  been  shown.  His  companions  bade  him  a 
melancholy  adieu,  and  set  off  on  their  precarious 
expedition.  They  strove  with  might  and  main  to 
get  out  of  the  bay,  but  found  it  impossible  to 
weather  a  point  of  land,  and  were  at  length  com- 
pelled to  take  shelter  in  a  small  cove,  where  they 
hoped  to  remain  concealed  until  the  wind  should 
be  more  favorable.  Exhausted  by  fatigue  and 
'watching,  they  fell  into  a  sound  sleep,  and  in  that 
state  were  surprised  by  the  savages.  Better  had 
it  been  for  those  unfortunate  men  had  they  re- 
mained with  Lewis,  and  shared  his  heroic  death  : 
as  it  was,  they  perished  in  a  more  painful  and 
protracted  manner,  being  sacrificed  by  the  natives 
to  the  manes  of  their  friends  with  all  the  lingering 
tortures  of  savage  cruelty.  Some  time  after  their 
death,  the  interpreter,  who  had  remained  a  kind 
of  prisoner  at  large,  effected  his  escape,  and 
brought  the  tragical  tidings  to  Astoria. 

Such  is  the  melancholy  story  of  the  Tonquin, 
and  such  was  the  fate  of  her  brave  but  headstrong 
commander,  and  her  adventurous  crew.  It  is  a 
catastrophe  that  shows  the  importance,  in  all  en- 
terprises of  moment,  to  keep  in  mind  the  general 
instructions  of  the  sagacious  heads  which  devise 
them.  Mr.  Astor  was  well  aware  of  the  perils  to 
which  ships  were  exposed  on  this  coast  from  quar- 
rels with  the  natives,  and  from  perfidious  attempts 
of  the  latter  to  surprise  and  capture  them  in  un- 
guarded moments.  He  had  repeatedly  enjoined  it 
upon  Captain  Thorn,  in  conversation,  and  at  part- 
ing, in  his  letter  of  instructions,  to  be  courteous 
and  kind  in  his  dealings  with  the  savages,  but  by 
no  means  to  confide  in  their  apparent  friendship, 
nor  to  admit  more  than  a  few  on  board  of  his 
ship  at  a  time, 

Had  the  deportment  of  Captain  Thorn  been 
properly  regulated,  the  insult  so  wounding  to 
savage  pride  would  never  have  been  given.  Had 
he  enforced  the  rule  to  admit  but  a  few  at  a  time, 
the  savages  would  not  have  been  able  to  get  the 
mastery.  He  was  too  irritable,  however,  to  prac- 
tise the  necessary  self-command,  and,  having  been 
nurtured  in  a  proud  contempt  of  danger,  thought 
it  beneath  him  to  manifest  any  fear  of  a  crew  of 
unarmed  savages. 

With  all  his  iaults  and  foibles,  we  cannot  but 
speak  of  him  with  esteem,  and  deplore  his  untimely 


fate  ;  for  we  remember  him  well  in  early  life,  as  a 
companion  in  pleasant  scenes  and  joyous  hours. 
When  on  shore,  .among  his  friends,  he  was  a 
frank,  manly,  sound-hearted  sailor.  On  board 
ship  he  evidently  assumed  the  hardness  of  deport- 
ment and  sternness  of  demeanor  which  many 
deem  essential  to  naval  service.  Throughout  the 
whole  of  the  expedition,  however,  he  showed  him- 
self loyal,  single-minded,  straightforward,  and 
fearless  ;  and  if  the  fate  of  his  vessel  may  be 
charged  to  his  harshness  and  imprudence,  we 
should  recollect  that  he  paid  for  his  error  with  his 
life. 

The  loss  of  the  Tonquin  was  a  grievous  blow  to 
the  infant  establishment  of  Astoria,  and  one  that 
threatened  to  bring  after  it  a  train  of  disasters. 
The  intelligence  of  it  did  not  reach  Mr.  Astor  until 
many  months  afterward.  He  felt  it  in  all  its 
force,  and  was  aware  that  it  must  cripple,  if  not 
entirely  defeat,  the  great  scheme  of  his  ambition. 
In  his  letters,  written  at  the  time,  he  speaks  of  it 
as  "  a  calamity,  the  length  of  which  he  could  not 
foresee."  He  indulged,  however,  in  no  weak  and 
vain  lamentation,  but  sought  to  devise  a  prompt 
and  efficient  remedy.  The  very  same  evening  he 
appeared  at  the  theatre  with  his  usual  serenity  of 
countenance.  A  friend,  who  knew  the  disastrous 
intelligence  he  had  received,  expressed  his  aston- 
ishment that  he  could  have  calmness  of  spirit 
sufficient  for  such  a  scene  of  light  amusement. 
"  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?"  was  his  charac- 
teristic reply  ;  "  would  you  have  me  stay  at  home 
and  weep  for  what  I  cannot  help  ?" 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  tidings  of  the  loss  of  the  Tonquin,  and  the 
massacre  of  her  crew,  struck  dismay  into  the 
hearts  of  the  Astorians.  They  found  themselves 
a  mere  handful  of  men,  on  a  savage  coast,  sur- 
rounded by  hostile  tribes,  who  would  doubtless  be 
incited  and  encouraged  to  deeds  of  violence  by 
the  late  fearful  catastrophe.  In  this  jucture  Mr. 
M'Dougal,  we  are  told,  had  recourse  to  a  strata- 
gem by  which  to  avail  himself  of  the  ignorance  and 
credulity  of  the  savages,  and  which  certainly  does 
credit  to  his  ingenuity. 

The  natives  of  the  coast,  and,  indeed,  of  all  the 
regions  west  of  the  mountains,  had  an  extreme 
dread  of  the  smallpox,  that  terrific  scourge  hav- 
ing, a  few  years  previously,  appeared  among  them 
and  almost  swept  off  entire  tribes.  Its  origin  and 
nature  were  wrapped  in  mystery,  and  they  con- 
ceived it  an  evil  inflicted  upon  them  by  the  Great 
Spirit,  or  brought  among  them  by  the  white  men. 
The  last  idea  was  seized  upon  by  Mr.  M'Dougal. 
He  assembled  several  of  the  chieftains  whom  he 
believed  to  be  in  the  conspiracy.  When  they  were 
all  seated  around,  he  informed  them  that  he  had 
heard  of  the  treachery  of  some  of  their  northern 
brethren  toward  the  Tonquin,  and  was  deter- 
mined on  vengeance.  "  The  white  men  among 
you,"  said  he,  "  are  few  in  number,  it  is  true,  but 
they  are  mighty  in  medicine.  See  here,"  con- 
tinued he,  drawing  forth  a  small  bottle  and  hold- 
ing it  before  their  eyes,  "  in  this  bottle  I  hold  the 
smallpox,  safely  corked  up  ;  I  have  but  to  draw 
the  cork,  and  let  loose  the  pestilence,  to  sweep 
man,  woman,  and  child  from  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

The  chiefs  were  struck  with  horror  and  alarm. 
They  implored  him  not  to  uncork  the  bottle,  since 
they  and  all  their  people  were  firm  friends  of  the 
white  men,  and  would  always  remain  so  ;  but, 


330 


ASTORIA. 


should  the  smallpox  be  once  let  out,  it  would  run 
like  wildfire  throughout  the  country,  sweeping  off 
,the  good  as  well  as  the  bad,  and  surely  he  would 
'not  be  so  unjust  as  to  punish  his  friends  for  crimes 
committed  by  his  enemies. 

Mr.  M'Dougal  pretended  to  be  convinced  by 
their  reasoning,  and  assured  them  that,  so  long  as 
the  white  people  should  be  unmolested,  and  the 
conduct  of  their  Indian  neighbors  friendly  and 
hospitable,  the  phial  of  wrath  should  remain 
sealed  up  ;  but,  on  the  least  hostility,  the  fatal 
cork  should  be  drawn. 

From  this  time,  it  is  added,  he  was  much 
dreaded  by  the  natives,  as  one  who  held  their  fate 
in  his  hands,  and  was  called,  by  way  of  pre-emi- 
nence, "  the  Great  Smallpox  Chief." 

All  this  while,  the  labors  at  the  infant  settle- 
ment went  on  with  unremitting  assiduity,  and,  by 
the  26th  of  September  a  commodious  mansion, 
spacious  enough  to  accommodate  all  hands,  was 
completed.  It  was  built  of  stone  and  clay,  there 
being  no  calcareous  stone  in  the  neighborhood 
from  which  lime  for  mortar  could  be  procured. 
The  schooner  was  also  finished,  and  launched, 
with  the  accustomed  ceremony,  on  the  second  of 
October,  and  took  her  station  below  the  fort.  She 
was  named  the  Dolly,  and  was  the  first  American 
vessel  launched  on  this  coast. 

On  the  5th  of  October,  in  the  evening,  the  little 
community  at  Astoria  was  enlivened  by  the  un- 
expected arrival  of  a  detachment  from  Mr.  David 
Stuart's  post  on  the  Oakinagan.  It  consisted  of  two 
of  the  clerks  and  two  of  the  privates.  They 
brought  favorable  accounts  of  the  new  establish- 
ment, but  reported  that,  as  Mr.  Stuart  was  ap- 
prehensive there  might  be  a  difficulty  of  subsisting 
his  whole  party  throughout  the  winter,  he  had  sent 
one  half  back  to  Astoria,  retaining  with  him  only 
Ross  Montigny,  and  two  others.  Such  is  the  hardi- 
hood of  the  Indian  trader.  In  the  heart  of  a  sav- 
age and  unknown  country,  seven  hundred  miles 
from  the  main  body  of  his  fellow-adventurers, 
Stuart  had  dismissed  half  of  his  little  number,  and 
was  prepared  with  the  residue  to  brave  all  the 
perils  of  the  wilderness,  and  the  rigors  of  a  long 
and  dreary  winter. 

With  the  return  party  came  a  Canadian  creole 
named  Regis  Brugiere,  and  an  Iroquois  hunter, 
with  his  wife  and  two  children.  As  these  two  per- 
sonages belong  to  certain  classes  which  have  de- 
rived their  peculiar  characteristics  from  the  fur 
trade,  we  deem  some  few  particulars  concerning 
them  pertinent  to  the  nature  of  this  work. 

Brugiere  was  of  a  class  of  beaver  trappers  and 
hunters  technically  called  freemen,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  traders.  They  are  generally  Cana- 
dians by  birth,  and  of  French  descent,  who  have 
been  employed  tor  a  term  of  years  by  some  fur 
company,  but,  their  term  being  expired,  continue 
to  hunt  and  trap  on  their  own  account,  trading 
with  the  company  like  the  Indians.  Hence  they 
derive  their  appellation  of  freemen,  to  distinguish 
them  from  the  trappers  who  are  bound  for  a  num- 
ber of  years,  and  receive  wages,  or  hunt  on 
shares. 

Having  passed  their  early  youth  in  the  wilder- 
ness, separated  almost  entirely  from  civilized  man, 
and  in  frequent  intercourse  with  the  Indians,  they 
relapse,  with  a  facility  common  to  human  nature, 
into  the  habitudes  of  savage  life.  Though  no 
longer  bound  by  engagements  to  continue  in  the 
interior,  they  have  become  so  accustomed  to  the 
freedom  of  the  forest  and  the  prairie,  that  they 
look  back  with  repugnance  upon  the  restraints  of 
civilization.  Most  of  them  intermarry  with  the 


natives,  and,  like  the  latter,  have  often  a  plurality 
of  wives.  Wanderers  of  the  wilderness,  accord- 
ing to  the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  the  migra- 
tions of  animals,  and  the  plenty  or  scarcity  of 
game,  they  lead  a  precarious  and  unsettled  exist- 
ence ;  exposed  to  sun  and  storm  and  all  kinds  of 
hardships,  until  they  resemble  Indians  in  com- 
plexion as  well  as  in  tastes  and  habits.  From 
time  to  time  they  bring  the  peltries  they  have  col- 
lected to  the  trading  houses  of  the  company  in 
whose  employ  they  have  been  brought  up.  Here 
they  traffic  them  away  for  such  articles  of  mer- 
chandise or  ammunition  as  they  may  stand  in 
need  of.  At  the  time  when  Montreal  was  the 
great  emporium  of  the  fur  trader,  one  of  these  free- 
men of  the  wilderness  would  suddenly  return, 
after  an  absence  of  many  years,  among  his  old 
friends  and  comrades.  He  would  be  greeted  as 
one  risen  from  the  dead  ;  and  with  the  greater 
welcome,  as  he  returned  flush  of  money.  A  short 
time,  however,  spent  in  revelry  would  be  suffi- 
cient to  drain  his  purse  and  sate  him  with  civilized 
life,  and  he  would  return  with  new  relish  to  the 
unshackled  freedom  of  th'e  forest. 

Numbers  of  men  of  this  class  were  scattered 
throughout  the  northwest  territories.  Some  of 
them  retained  a  little  of  the  thrift  and  forethought 
of  the  civilized  man,  and  became  wealthy  among 
their  improvident  neighbors  ;  their  wealth  being 
chiefly  displayed  in  large  bands  of  horses,  which 
covered  the  prairies  in  the  vicinity  of  their  abodes. 
Most  of  them,  however,  were  prone  to  assimilate 
to  the  red  man  in  their  heedlessness  of  the  future. 

Such  was  Regis  Brugiere,  a  freeman  and  rover 
of  the  wilderness.  Having  been  brought  up  in 
the  service  of  the  Northwest  Company,  he  had  fol- 
lowed in  the  train  of  one  of  its  expeditions  across 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  undertaken  to  trap  for 
the  trading  post  established  on  the  Spokan  River. 
In  the  course  of  his  hunting  excursions  he  had 
either  accidentally,  or  designedly,  found  his  way 
to  the  post  of  Mr.  Stuart,  and  been  prevailed  upon 
to  descend  the  Columbia,  and  "  try  his  luck"  at 
Astoria. 

Ignace  Shonowane,  the  Iroquois  hunter,  was  a 
specimen  of  a  different  class.  He  was  one  of  those 
aboriginals  of  Canada  who  had  partially  con- 
formed to  the  habits  of  civilization,  and  the  doc- 
trines of  Christianity,  under  the  influence  of  the 
P'rench  colonists  and  the  Catholic  priests  ;  who 
seem  generally  to  have  been  more  successful  in 
conciliating,  taming,  and  converting  the  savages, 
than  their  English  and  Protestant  rivals.  These 
half-civilized  Indians  retained  some  of  the  good 
and  many  of  the  evil  qualities  of  their  original 
stock.  They  were  first-rate  hunters,  and  dexter- 
ous in  the  management  of  the  canoe.  They  could 
undergo  great  privations,  and  were  admirable  for 
the  service  of  the  rivers,  lakes,  and  forests,  pro- 
vided they  could  be  kept  sober,  and  in  proper  sub- 
ordination ;  but,  once  inflamed  with  liquor,  to 
which  they  were  madly  addicted,  all  the  dormant 
passions  inherent  in  their  nature  were  prone  to 
break  forth,  and  to  hurry  them  into  the  most  vin- 
dictive and  bloody  acts  of  violence. 

Though  they  generally  professed  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion,  yet  it  was  mixed,  occasionally, 
with  some  of  their  ancient  superstitions  ;  and  they 
retained  much  of  the  Indian  belief  in  charms  and 
omens.  Numbers  of  these  men  were  employed 
by  the  Northwest  Company  as  trappers,  hunters, 
and  canoe-men,  but  on  lower  terms  than  were  al- 
lovVed  to  white  men.  Ignace  Shonowane  had,  in 
this  way,  followed  the  enterprise  of  the  company 
to  the  banks  of  the  Spokan,  being,  probably,  one 


ASTORIA. 


331 


of  the  first  of  his  tribe  that  had  traversed  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

Such  were  some  of  the  motley  populace  of  the 
wilderness,  incident  to  the  fur  trade,  who  were 
gradually  attracted  to  the  new  settlement  of  As- 
toria. 

The  month  of  October  now  began  to  give  indi- 
cations of  approaching  winter.  Hitherto  the  col- 
onists had  been  well  pleased  with  the  climate. 
The  summer  had  been  temperate,  the  mercury 
never  rising  above  eighty  degrees.  Westerly  winds 
had  prevailed  during  the  spring  and  the  early  part 
of  summer,  and  been  succeeded  by  fresh  breezes 
from  the  northwest.  In  the  month  of  October  the 
southerly  winds'  set  in,  bringing  with  them  fre- 
quent rain. 

The  Indians  now  began  to  quit  the  borders  of 
the  ocean,  and  to  retire  to  their  winter  quarters  in 
the  sheltered  bosom  of  the  forests,  or  along  the 
small  rivers  and  brooks.  The  rainy  season, 
which  commences  in  October,  continues,  with 
little  intermission,  until  April  ;  and  though  the 
winters  are  generally  mild,  the  mercury  seldom 
sinking  below  the  freezing  point,  yet  the  tempests 
of  wind  and  rain  are  terrible.  The  sun  is  some- 
times obscured  for  weeks,  the  brooks  swell  into 
roaring  torrents,  and  the  country  is  threatened 
with  a  deluge. 

The  departure  of  the  Indians  to  their  winter 
quarters  gradually  rendered  provisions  scanty, 
and  obliged  the  colonists  to  send  out  foraging  ex- 
peditions in  the  Dolly.  Still,  the  little  handful  of 
adventurers  kept  up  their  spirits  in  their  lonely 
fort  at  Astoria,  looking  forward  to  the  time  when 
they  should  be  animated  and  reinforced  by  the  party 
under  Mr.  Hunt,  that  was  to  come  to  them  across 
the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  year  gradually  wore  away.  The  rain, 
which  had  poured  down  almost  incessantly  since 
the  first  of  October,  cleared  up  toward  the  even- 
ing of  the  3ist  of  December,  and  the  morning  oi 
the  first  of  January  ushered  in  a  day  of  sunshine. 

The  hereditary  French  holiday  spirit  of  the 
Canadian  voyageurs  is  hardly  to  be  depressed  by 
any  adversities  ;  and  they  can  manage  to  get  up 
a  fete  in  the  most  squalid  situations,  and  under 
the  most  untoward  circumstances.  An  extra 
allowance  of  rum,  and  a  little  Hour  to  make  cakes 
and  puddings,  constitute  a  "  regale  ;"  and  they 
forget  all  their  toils  and  troubles  in  the  song  and 
dance. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  partners  endeavor- 
ecj  to  celebrate  the  new  year  with  some  effect. 
At  sunrise  the  drums  beat  to  arms,  the  colors 
were  hoisted  with  three  rounds  of  small  arms  and 
three  discharges  of  cannon.  The  day  was  de- 
voted to  games  of  agility  and  strength,  and  other 
amusements  ;  and  grog  was  temperately  distrib- 
uted, together  with  bread,  butter,  and  cheese. 
The  best  dinner  their  circumstances  could  afford 
was  served  up  at  midday.  At  sunset  the  colors 
were  lowered,  with  another  discharge  of  artillery. 
The  night  was  spent  in  dancing  ;  and,  though 
there  was  a  lack  of  female  partners  to  excite  their 
gallantry,  the  voyageurs  kept  up  the  ball,  with 
true  French  spirit,  until  three  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. So  passed  the  new  year  festival  of  1812  at 
the  infant  colony  of  Astoria. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

WE  have  followed  up  the  fortunes  of  the  mari- 
time part  of  this  enterprise  to  the  shores  of  the 
Pacific,  and  have  conducted  the  affairs  of  the  em- 


bryo establishment  to  the  opening  of  the  new 
year  ;  let  us  now  turn  back  to  the  adventurous 
band  to  whom  was  intrusted  the  land  expedition, 
and  who  were  to  make  their  way  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  up  vast  rivers,  across  trackless 
plains,  and  over  the  rugged  barriers  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

The  conduct  of  this  expedition,  as  has  been  al- 
ready mentioned,  was  assigned  to  Mr.  Wilson 
Price  Hunt,  of  Trenton,  New  Jersey,  one  of  the 
partners  of  the  company,  who  was  ultimately  to 
be  at  the  head  of  the  establishment  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Columbia.  He  is  represented  as  a  man 
scrupulously  upright  and  faithful  in  his  dealings, 
amicable  in  his  disposition,  and  of  most  accom- 
modating manners  ;  and  his  whole  conduct  will 
be  found  in  unison  with  such  a  character.  He 
was  not  practically  experienced  in  the  Indian 
trade  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  had  never  made  any  ex- 
peditions of  traffic  into  the  heart  of  the  wilder- 
ness, but  he  had  been  engaged  in  commerce  at 
St.  Louis,  then  a  frontier  settlement  on  the  Mis- 
sissippi, where  the  chief  branch  of  his  business 
had  consisted  in  furnishing  Indian  traders  with 
goods  and  equipments.  In  this  way  he  had  ac- 
quired much  knowledge  of  the  trade  at  second 
hand,  and  of  the  various  tribes,  and  the  interior 
country  over  which  it  extended. 

Another  of  the  partners,  Mr.  Donald  M'Kenzie, 
was  associated  with  Mr.  Hunt  in  the  expedition, 
and  excelled  on  those  points  in  which  the  other 
was  deficient  ;  for  he  had  been  ten  years  in  the 
interior,  in  the  service  of  the  Northwest  Company, 
and  valued  himself  on  his  knowledge  of  "  wood- 
craft," and  the  strategy  of  Indian  trade  and  In- 
dian warfare.  He  had  a  frame  seasoned  to  toils 
and  hardships,  a  spirit  not  to  be  intimidated, 
and  was  reputed  to  be  a  "  remarkable  shot  ;" 
which  of  itself  was  sufficient  to  give  him  renown 
upon  the  frontier. 

Mr.  Hunt  and  his  coadjutor  repaired,  about 
the  latter  part  of  July,  1810,  to  Montreal,  the  an- 
cient emporium  of  the  fur  trade,  where  everything 
requisite  for  the  expedition  could  be  procured. 
One  of  the  first  objects  was  to  recruit  a  comple- 
ment of  Canadian  voyageurs  -from  the  disband- 
ed herd  usually  to  be  found  loitering  about  the 
place.  A  degree  of  jockeyship,  however,  is  re- 
quired for  this  service,  for  a  Canadian  voyageur 
is  as  full  of  latent  tricks  and  vice  as  a  horse  ; 
and  when  he  makes  the  greatest  external  prom- 
ise, is  prone  to  prove  the  greatest  "  take  in." 
Besides,  the  Northwest  Company,  who  maintained 
a  long  established  control  at  Montreal,  and  knew 
the  qualities  of  every  voyageur,  secretly  interdict- 
ed the  prime  hands  from  engaging  in  this  new 
service  ;  so  that,  although  liberal  terms  were 
offered,  few  presented  themselves  b,ut  such  as 
were  not  worth  having. 

From  these  Mr.  Hunt  engaged  a  number  suffi- 
cient, as  he  supposed,  for  present  purposes  ;  and, 
having  laid  in  a  supply  of  ammunition,  provisions, 
and  Indian  goods,  embarked  all  on  board  one  of 
those  great  canoes  at  that  time  universally  used 
by  the  fur  traders  for  navigating  the  intricate  and 
often-obstructed  rivers.  The  canoe  was  between 
thirty  and  forty  feet  long,  and  several  feet  in 
width  ;  constructed  of  birch  bark,  sewed  with 
fibres  of  the  roots  of  the  spruce  tree,  and  daubed 
with  resin  of  the  pine,  instead  of  tar.  The  cargo 
was  made  up  in  packages,  weighing  from  ninety 
to  one  hundred  pounds  each,  for  the  facility  of 
loading  and  unloading,  and  of ,  transportation  at 
portages.  The  canoe  itself,  though  capable  of 
sustaining  a  freight  of  upward  of  four  tons,  could 


332 


ASTORIA. 


readily  be  carried  on  men's  shoulders.  Canoes 
of  this  size  are  generally  managed  by  eight  or  ten 
men,  two  of  whom  are  picked  veterans,  who  re- 
ceive double  w-ages,  and  are  stationed,  one  at  the 
bow  and  the  other  at  the  stern,  to  keep  a  lookout 
and  to  steer.  They  are  termed  the  foreman  and 
the  steersman.  The  rest,  who  ply  the  paddles,  are 
called  middle-men.  When  there  is  a  favorable 
breeze,  the  canoe  is  occasionally  navigated  with  a 
sail. 

The  expedition  took  its  regular  departure,  as 
usual,  from  St.  Anne's,  near  the  extremity  of  the 
island  of  Montreal,  the  great  starting  place  of  the 
traders  to  the  interior.  Here  stood  the  ancient 
chapel  of  St.  Anne,  the  patroness  of  the  Canadian 
voyageurs,  where  they  made  confession,  and 
offered  up  their  vows,  previous  to  departing  on 
any  hazardous  expedition.  The  shrine  of  the 
saint  was  decorated  with  relics  and  votive  offer- 
ings hung  up  by  these  superstitious  beings, 
either  to  propitiate  her  favor,  or  in  gratitude 
for  some  signal  deliverance  in  the  wilderness. 
It  was  the  custom,  too,  of  these  devout  vaga- 
bonds, after  leaving  the  chapel,  to  have  a  grand 
carouse,  in  honor  of  the  saint  and  for  the  pros- 
perity of  the  voyage.  In  this  part  of  their  devo- 
tions, the  crew  of  Mr.  Hunt  proved  themselves 
by  no  means  deficient.  Indeed,  he  soon  discov- 
ered that  his  recruits,  enlisted  at  Montreal,  were 
fit  to  vie  with  the  ragged  regiment  of  Falstaff. 
Some  were  able-bodied,  but  inexpert  ;  others  were 
expert,  but  lazy  ;  while  a  third  class  were  expert 
and  willing,  but  totally  worn  out,  being  broken 
down  veterans,  incapable  of  toil. 

With  this  inefficient  crew  he  made  his  way  up  the 
Ottawa  River,  and  by  the  ancient  route  of  the  fur 
traders  along  a  succession  of  small  lakes  and 
rivers  to  Michilimackinac.  Their  progress  was 
slow  and  tedious.  Mr.  Hunt  was  not  accustomed 
to  the  management  of  "voyageurs,"  and  he 
had  a  crew  admirably  disposed  to  play  the  old 
soldier  and  balk  their  work,  and  ever  ready  to 
come  to  a  halt,  land,  make  a  fire,  put  on  the  great 
pot,  and  smoke,  and  gossip,  and  sing  by  the  hour. 

It  was  not  until  the  22d  of  July  that  they  ar- 
rived at  Mackinaw,  situated  on  the  island  of  the 
same  name,  at  the  confluence  of  lakes  Huron  and 
Michigan.  This  famous  old  French  trading  post 
continued  to  be  a  rallying  point  for  a  multifarious 
and  motley  population.  The  inhabitants  were 
amphibious  in  their  habits,  most  of  them  being, 
or  having  been,  voyageurs  or  canoe-men.  It 
was  the  great  place  of  arrival  and  departure  of 
the  southwest  fur  trade.  Here  the  Mackinaw 
Company  had  established  its  principal  post,  from 
whence  it  communicated  with  the  interior  and 
with  Montreal.  Hence  its  various  traders  and 
trappers  set  out  for  their  respective  destinations 
about  Lake  Superior  and  its  tributary  waters,  or 
for  the  Mississippi,  the  Arkansas,  the  Missouri, 
and  the  other  regions  of  the  west.  Here,  after 
the  absence  of  a  year  or  more,  they  returned  with 
their  peltries,  and  settled  their  accounts  ;  the  furs 
rendered  in  by  them  being  transmitted,  in  canoes, 
from  hence  to  Montreal.  Mackinaw  was,  there- 
fore, for  a  great  part  of  the  year,  very  scantily 
peopled  ;  but  at  certain  seasons  the  traders  ar- 
rived from  all  points,  with  their  crews  of  voy- 
ageurs, and  the  place  swarmed  like  a  hive. 

Mackinaw,  at  that  time,  was  a  mere  village, 
stretching  along  a  small  bay,  with  a  fine  broad 
beach  in  front  of  its  principal  row  of  houses,  and 
dominated  by  the  old  fort,  which  crowned  an 
impending  height.  The  beach  was  a  kind  of 
public  promenade,  where  were  displayed  all  the 


vagaries  of  a  seaport  on  the  arrival  of  a  fleet 
from  a  long  cruise.  Here  voyageurs  frolicked 
away  their  wages,  fiddling  and  dancing  in  the 
booths  and  cabins,  buying  all  kinds  of  knick- 
knacks,  dressing  themselves  out  finely,  and  pa- 
rading up  and  down,  like  arrant  braggarts  and 
coxcombs.  Sometimes  they  met  with  rival  cox- 
combs in  the  young  Indians  from  the  opposite 
shore,  who  would  appear  on  the  beach  painted 
and  decorated  in  fantastic  style,  and  would  saun- 
ter up  and  down,  to  be  gazed  at  and  admired, 
perfectly  satisfied  that  they  eclipsed  their  pale- 
faced  competitors. 

Now  and  then  a  chance  party  of  "  Northwest- 
ers" appeared  at  Mackinaw  from  the  rendezvous 
at  Fort  William.  These  held  themselves  up  as 
the  chivalry  of  the  fur  trade.  They  were  men  of 
iron  ;  proof  against  cold  weather,  hard  fare,  and 
perils  of  all  kinds.  Some  would  wear  the  north- 
west button,  and  a  formidable  dirk,  and  assume 
something  of  a  military  air.  They  generally  wore 
feathers  in  their  hats,  and  affected  the  "  brave." 
"  Je  suis  un  homme  du  nord  !" — "  I  am  a  man 
of  the  north,"  one  of  these  swelling  fellows  would 
exclaim,  sticking  his  arms  akimbo  and  ruffling  by 
the  Southwesters,  whom  he  regarded  with  great 
contempt,  as  men  softened  by  mild  climates  and 
the  luxurious  fare  of  bread  and  bacon,  and  whom 
he  stigmatized  with  the  inglorious  name  of  pork- 
eaters.  The  superiority  assumed  by  these  vain- 
glorious swaggerers  was,  in  general,  tacitly  ad- 
mitted. Indeed,  some  of .  them  had  acquired 
great  notoriety  for  deeds  of  hardihood  and  cour- 
age ;  'for  the  fur  trade  had  its  heroes,  whose 
names  resounded  throughout  the  wilderness. 

Such  was  Mackinaw  at  the  time  of  which  we 
are  treating.  It  now,  doubtless,  presents  a  to- 
tally different  aspect.  The  fur  companies  no 
longer  assemble  there  ;  the  navigation  of  the 
lakes  is  carried  on  by  steamboats  and  various 
shipping,  and  the  race  of  traders,  and  trappers, 
and  voyageurs,  and  Indian  dandies,  have  vapored 
out  their  brief  hour  and  disappeared.  Such 
changes  does  the  lapse  of  a  handful  of  years  make 
in  this  ever-changing  country. 

At  this  place  Mr.  Hunt  remained  for  some 
time,  to  complete  his  assortment  of  Indian  goods, 
and  to  increase  his  number  of  voyageurs,  as  well 
as  to  engage  some  of  a  more  efficient  character 
than  those  enlisted  at  Montreal. 

And  now  commenced  another  game  of  jockey- 
ship.  There  were  able  and  efficient  men  in 
abundance  at  Mackinaw,  but  for  several  days  not 
one  presented  himself.  If  offers  were  made  to 
any,  they  were  listened  to  with  a  shake  of  the 
head.  Should  any  one  seem  inclined  to  enlist, 
there  were  officious  idlers  and  busybodies,  of 
that  class  who  are  ever  ready  to  dissuade  others 
from  any  enterprise  in  which  they  themselves 
have  no  concern.  These  would  pull  him  by  the 
sleeve,  take  him  on  one  side,  and  murmur  in  his 
ear,  or  would  suggest  difficulties  outright. 

It  was  objected  that  the  expedition  would  have 
to  navigate  unknown  rivers,  and  pass  through 
howling  wildernesses  infested  by  savage  tribes, 
who  had  already  cut  off  the  unfortunate  voy- 
ageurs that  had  ventured  among  them  ;  that  it 
wras  to  climb  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  descend 
into  desolate  and  famished  regions,  where  the 
traveller  was  often  obliged  to  subsist  on  grass- 
hoppers and  crickets,  or  to  kill  his  own  horse 
for  food. 

At  length  one  man  was  hardy  enough  to  en- 
gage, and  he  was  used  like  a  "  stool-pigeon,"  to 
decoy  others  ;  but  several  days  elapsed  before 


ASTORIA. 


333 


any  more  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  join  him. 
A  few  then  came  to  terms.  It  was  desirable  to 
engage  them  for  five  years,  but  some  refused  to 
engage  for  more  than  three.  Then  they  must 
have  part  of  their  pay  in  advance,  which  was 
readily  granted.  When  they  had  pocketed  the 
amount,  and  squandered  it  in  regales  or  in  out- 
fits, they  began  to  talk  of  pecuniary  obligations 
at  Mackinaw,  which  must  be  discharged  before 
they  would  be  free  to  depart;  or  engagements 
with  other  persons,  which  were  only  to  be  can- 
celled by  a  "  reasonable  consideration." 

It  was  in  vain  to  argue  or  remonstrate.  The 
money  advanced  had  already  been  sacked  and 
spent,  and  must  be  lost  and  the  recruits  left  be- 
hind, unless  they  could  be  freed  from  their  debts 
and  engagements.  Accordingly,  a  fine  was  paid 
for  one  ;  a  judgment  for  another  ;  a  tavern  bill 
for  the  third  ;  and  almost  all  had  to  be  bought 
off  from  some  prior  engagement,  either  real  or 
pretended.  , 

Mr.  Hunt  groaned  in  spirit  at  the  incessant 
and  unreasonable  demands  of  these  worthies 
upon  his  purse  ;  yet  with  all  this  outlay  of  funds, 
the  number  recruited  was  but  scanty,  and  many 
of  the  most  desirable  still  held  themselves  aloof, 
and  were  not  to  be  caught  by  a  golden  bait. 
With  these  he  tried  another  temptation.  Among 
the  recruits  who  had  enlisted  he  distributed 
feathers  and  ostrich  plumes.  These  they  put  in 
their  hats,  and  thus  figured  about  Mackinaw,  as- 
suming airs  of  vast  importance,  as  "  voyageurs 
in  a  new  company,  that  was  to  eclipse  the  North- 
west." The  effect  was  complete.  A  French 
Canadian  is  too  vain  and  mercurial  a  being  to 
withstand  the  finery  and  ostentation  of  the  feather. 
Numbers  immediately  pressed  into  the  service. 
One  must  have  an  ostrich  plume  ;  another,  a 
white  feather  with  a  red  end  ;  a  third,  a  bunch  of 
cocks'  tails.  Thus  all  paraded  about  in  vain- 
glorious style,  more  delighted  with  the  feathers 
in  their  hats  than  with  the  money  in  their  pock- 
ets ;  and  considering  themselves  fully  equal  to 
the  boastful  "  men  of  the  north." 

While  thus  recruiting  the  number  of  rank  and 
file,  Mr.  Hunt  was  joined  by  a  person  whom  he 
had  invited,  by  letter,  to  engage  as  a  partner  in 
the  expedition.  This  was  Mr.  Ramsay  Crooks, 
a  young  man,  a  native  of  Scotland,  who  had  serv- 
ed under  the  Northwest  Company,  and  been  en- 
gaged in  trading  expeditions  upon  his  individual 
account,  among  the  tribes  of  the  Missouri.  Mr. 
Hunt  knew  him  personally,  and  had  conceived 
a  high  and  merited  opinion  of  his  judgment,  en- 
terprise, and  integrity  ;  he  was  rejoiced,  there- 
fore, when  the  latter  consented  to  accompany 
him.  Mr.  Crooks,  however,  drew  from  experi- 
ence a  picture  of  the  dangers  to  which  they 
would  be  subjected,  and  urged  the  importance  of 
going  with  a  considerable  force.  In  ascending 
the  upper  Missouri  they  would  have  to  pass 
through  the  country  of  the  Sioux  Indians,  who 
had  manifested  repeated  hostility  to  the  white 
traders,  and  rendered  their  expeditions  extremely 
perilous  ;  firing  upon  them  from  the  river  banks 
as  they  passed  beneath  in  their  boats,  and  attack- 
ing them  in  their  encampments.  Mr.  Crooks 
himself,  when  voyaging  in  company  with  another 
trader  of  the  name  of  M'Lellan,  had  been  inter- 
rupted by  these  marauders,  and  had  considered 
himself  fortunate  in  escaping  down  the  river 
without  loss  of  life  or  property,  but  with  a  total 
abandonment  of  his  trading  voyage. 

Should  they  be  fortunate  enough  to  pass 
through  the  country  of  the  Sioux  without  molesta- 


tion, they  would  have  another  tribe  still  more  sav- 
age and  warlike  beyond,  and  deadly  foes  of  the 
white  men.  These  were  the  Blackfeet  Indians, 
who  ranged  over  a  wide  extent  of  country  which 
they  would  have  to  traverse. 

Under  all  these  circumstances  it  was  thought 
advisable  to  augment  the  party  considerably.  It 
already  exceeded  the  number  of  thirty,  to  which 
it  had  originally  been  limited  ;  but  it  was  deter- 
mined, on  arriving  at  St.  Louis,  to  increase  it  to 
the  number  of  sixty. 

These  matters  being  arranged,  they  prepared 
to  embark  ;  but  the  embarkation  of  a  crew  of 
Canadian  voyageurs,  on  a  distant  expedition,  is 
not  so  easy  a  matter  as  might  be  imagined  ;  es- 
pecially of  such  a  set  of  vainglorious  fellows  with 
money  in  both  pockets,  and  cocks'  tails  in  their 
hats.  Like  sailors,  the  Canadian  voyageurs  gen- 
erally preface  a  long  cruise  with  a  carouse.  They 
have  their  cronies,  their  brothers,  their  cousins, 
their  wives,  their  sweethearts  ;  all  to  be  enter- 
tained at  their  expense.  They  feast,  they  fiddle, 
they  drink,  they  sing,  they  dance,  they  frolic  and 
fight,  until  they  are  all  as  mad  as  so  many 
drunken  Indians.  The  publicans  are  all  obedi- 
ence to  their  commands,  never  hesitating  to  let 
them  run  up  scores  without  limit,  knowing  that, 
when  their  own  money  is  expended,  the  purses  of 
their  employers  must  answer  for  the  bill,  or  the 
voyage  must  be  delayed.  Neither  was  it  possi- 
ble, at  that  time,  to  remedy  the  matter  at  Mack- 
inaw. In  that  amphibious  community  there  was 
always  a  propensity  to  wrest  the  laws  in  favor  of 
riotous  or  mutinous  boatmen.  It  was  necessary, 
also,  to  keep  the  recruits  in  good  humor,  seeing 
the  novelty  and  danger  of  the  service  into  which 
they  were  entering,  and  the  ease  with  which  they 
might  at  any  time  escape  it,  by  jumping  into  a 
canoe  and  going  down  the  stream. 

Such  were  the  scenes  that  beset  Mr.  Hunt,  and 
gave  him  a  foretaste  of  the  difficulties  of  his  com- 
mand. The  little  cabarets  and  sutlers'  shops 
along  the  bay  resounded  with  the  scraping  of  fid- 
dles, with  snatches  of  old  French  songs,  with  In- 
dian whoops  and  yells  ;  while  every  plumed  and 
feathered  vagabond  had  his  troop  of  loving  cous- 
ins and  comrades  at  his  heels.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  difficulty  they  could  be  extricated  from 
the  clutches  of  the  publicans  and  the  embraces 
of  their  pot  companions,  who  followed  them  to 
the  water's  edge  with  many  a  hug,  a  kiss  on  each 
cheek,  and  a  maudlin  benediction  in  Canadian 
French. 

It  was  about  the  I2th  of  August  that  they  left 
Mackinaw,  and  pursued  the  usual  route  by  Green 
Bay,  Fox  and  Wisconsin  Rivers,  to  Prairie  du 
Chien,  and  thence  down  the  Mississippi  to  St. 
Louis,  where  they  landqd  on  the  third  of  Septem- 
ber. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ST.  Louis,  which  is  situated  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Mississippi  River,  a  few  miles  below  the 
mouth  of  the  Missouri,  was,  at  that  time,  a  fron- 
tier settlement,  and  the  last  fitting-out  place  for 
the  Indian  trade  of  the  southwest.  It  possessed 
a  motley  population  composed  of  the  Creole  de- 
scendants of  the  original  French  colonists  ;  the 
keen  traders  from  the  Atlantic  States  ;  the  back, 
wood-men  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee  ;  the  In- 
dians and  half-breeds  of  the  prairies  ;  together 
with  a  singular  aquatic  race  that  had  grown  up 
from  the  navigation  of  the  rivers — the  "  boatmen 


334 


ASTORIA. 


of  the  Mississippi,"  who  possessed  habits,  man- 
ners, and  almost  a  language,  peculiarly  their 
own,  and  strongly  technical.  They,  at  that  time, 
were  extremely  numerous,  and  conducted  the 
chief  navigation  and  commerce  of  the  Ohio  and 
the  Mississippi,  as  the  voyageurs  did  of  the  Ca- 
nadian waters  ;  but,  like  them,  their  consequence 
and  characteristics  are  rapidly  vanishing  before 
the  all-pervading  intrusion  of  steamboats. 

The  old  French  houses  engaged  in  the  Indian 
trade  had  gathered  round  them  a  train  ot  depend- 
ents, mongrel  Indians,  and  mongrel  Frenchmen, 
who  had  intermarried  with  Indians.  These  they 
employed  in  their  various  expeditions  by  land  and 
water.  Various  individuals  of  other  countries 
had  of  late  years,  pushed  the  trade  farther  into 
the  interior,  to  the  upper  waters  of  the  Missouri, 
and  had  swelled  the  number  of  these  hangers-on. 
Several  of  these  traders  had,  two  or  three  years 
previously,  formed  themselves  into  a  company, 
composed  of  twelve  partners,  with  a  capital  of 
about  forty  thousand  dollars,  called  the  Missouri 
Fur  Company,  the  object  of  which  was  to  estab- 
lish posts  along  the  upper  part  of  that  river,  and 
monopolize  the  trade.  The  leading  partner  of 
this  company  was  Mr.  Manuel  Lisa,  a  Spaniard 
by  birth,  and  a  man  of  bold  and  enterprising 
character,  who  had  ascended  the  Missouri  almost 
to  its  source,  and  made  himself  well  acquainted 
and  popular  with  several  of  its  tribes.  By  his  ex- 
ertions, trading  posts  had  been  established,  in 
1808,  in  the  Sioux  country,  and  among  the  Ari- 
cara  and  Mandan  tribes  ;  and  a  principal  one, 
under  Mr.  Henry,  one  of  the  partners,  at  the 
forks  of  the  Missouri.  This  company  had  in  its 
employ  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  partly 
American  hunters,  and  partly  Creoles  and  Cana- 
dian voyageurs. 

All  these  circumstances  combined  to  produce  a 
population  at  St.  Louis  even  still  more  motley 
than  that  at  Mackinaw.  Here  were  to  be  seen 
about  the  river  banks,  the  hectoring,  extravagant, 
bragging  boatmen  of  the  Mississippi,  with  the 
gay,  grimacing,  singing,  good-humored  Canadian 
voyageurs.  Vagrant  Indians,  of  various  tribes, 
loitered  about  the  streets.  Now  and  then,  a  stark 
Kentucky  hunter,  in  leathern  hunting-dress,  with 
rifle  on  shoulder  and  knife  in  belt,  strode  along. 
Here  and  there  were  new  brick  houses  and  shops, 
just  set  up  by  bustling,  driving,  and  eager  men 
ot  traffic  from  the  Atlantic  States  ;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  old  French  mansions,  with  open 
casements,  still  retained  the  easy,  indolent  air  of 
the  original  colonists  ;  and  now  and  then  the 
scraping  of  a  fiddle,  a  strain  of  an  ancient  French 
song,  or  the  sound  of  billiard  balls,  showed  that 
the  happy  Gallic  turn  for  gayety  and  amusement 
still  lingered  about  the  place. 

Such  was  St.  Louis  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Hunt's 
arrival  there,  and  the  appearance  of  a  new  fur 
company,  with  ample  funds  at  its  command,  pro- 
duced a  strong  sensation  among  the  Indian  tra- 
ders of  the  place,  and  awakened  keen  jealousy 
and  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  Missouri  Com- 
pany. Mr.  Hunt  proceeded  to  strengthen  himself 
against  all  competition.  For  this  purpose,  he  se- 
cured to  the  interests  of  the  association  another  of 
those  enterprising  men,  who  had  been  engaged 
in  individual  traffic  with  the  tribes  of  the  Missouri. 
This  was  a  Mr.  Joseph  Miller,  a  gentleman  well 
educated  and  well  informed,  and  of  a  respectable 
family  of  Baltimore.  He  had  been  an  officer  in 
the  army  of  the  United  States,  but  had  resigned  in 
disgust,  on  being  refused  a  furlough,  and  had  taken 
to  trapping  beaver  and  trading  among  the  In- 


dians. He  was  easily  induced  by  Mr.  Hunt  to 
join  as  a  partner,  and  was  considered  by  him,  on 
account  ot  his  education  and  acquirements,  and 
his  experience  in  Indian  trade,  a  valuable  addition 
to  the  company. 

Several  additional  men  were  likewise  enlisted 
in  St.  Louis,  some  as  boatmen,  and  others  as  hunt- 
ers. These  last  were  engaged,  not  merely  to  kill 
game  for  provisions,  but  also,  and  indeed  chiefly, 
to  trap  beaver  and  other  animals  of  rich  furs,  val- 
uable in  the  trade.  They  enlisted  on  different 
terms.  Some  were  to  have  a  fixed  salary  of  three 
hundred  dollars  ;  others  were  to  be  fitted  out  and 
maintained  at  the  expense  of  the  company,  and 
were  to  hunt  and  trap  on  shares. 

As  Mr.  Hunt  met  with  much  opposition  on  the 
part  of  rival  traders,  especially  the  Missouri  Fur 
Company,  it  took  him  some  weeks  to  complete  his 
preparations.  The  delays  which  he  had  pre- 
viously experienced  at  Montreal,  Mackinaw,  and 
on  the  way,  added  to  those  at  St.  Louis,  had 
thrown  him  much  behind  his  original  calcula- 
tions, so  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  effect  his 
voyage  up  the  Missouri  in  the  present  year.  This 
river,  flowing  from  high  and  cold  latitudes,  and 
through  wide  and  open  plains,  exposed  to  chilling 
blasts,  freezes  early.  The  winter  may  be  dated 
from  the  first  of  November  ;  there  was  every  pros- 
pect, therefore,  that  it  would  be  closed  with  ice 
long  before  Mr.  Hunt  could  reach  its  upper 
waters.  To  avoid,  however,  the  expense  ot  win- 
tering at  St.  Louis,  he  determined  to  push  up  the 
river  as  far  as  possible,  to  some  point  above  the 
settlements,  where  game  was  plenty,  and  where 
his  whole  party  could  be  subsisted  by  hunting, 
until  the  breaking  up  of  the  ice  in  the  spring 
should  permit  them  to  resume  their  voyage.  i 

Accordingly,  on  the  twenty-first  of  October  he 
took  his  departure  from  St.  Louis.  His  party  was 
distributed  in  three  boats.  One  was  the  barge 
which  he  had  brought  from  Mackinaw  ;  another 
was  of  a  larger  size,  such  as  was  formerly  used  in 
navigating  the  Mohawk  River,  and  known  by  the 
generic  name  of  the  Schenectady  barge  ;  the  other 
was  a  large  keel  boat,  at  that  time  the  grand  con- 
veyance on  the  Mississippi. 

In  this  way  they  set  out  from  St.  Louis,  in  buoy- 
ant spirits,  and  soon  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Missouri.  This  vast  river,  three  thousand  miles 
in  length,  and  which,  with  its  tributary  streams, 
drains  such  an  immense  extent  of  country,  was 
as  yet  but  casually  and  imperfectly  navigated  by 
the  adventurous  bark  of  the  fur  trader.  A  steam- 
boat had  never  yet.  stemmed  its  turbulent  current. 
Sails  were  but  of  casual  assistance,  for  it  required 
a  strong  wind  to  conquer  the  force  of  the  stream. 
The  main  dependence  was  on  bodily  strength  and 
manual  dexterity.  The  boats,  in  general,  had  to 
be  propelled  by  oars  and  setting  poles,  or  drawn 
by  the  hand  and  by  grappling  hooks  from  one 
root  or  overhanging  tree  to  another  ;  or  towed  by 
the  long  cordelle,  or  towing  line,  where  the  shores 
were  sufficiently  clear  of  woods  and  thickets  to 
permit  the  men  to  pass  along  the  banks. 

During  this  slow  and  tedious  progress  the  boat 
would  be  exposed  to  frequent  danger  from  float- 
ing trees  and  great  masses  of  drift-wood,  or  to 
be  impaled  upon  snags  and  sawyers  ;  that  is  to 
say,  sunken  trees,  presenting  a  jagged  or  pointed 
end  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  As  the  chan- 
nel of  the  river  frequently  shifted  from  side  to 
side,  according  to  the  bends  and  sand-banks,  the 
boat  had,  in  the  same  way,  to  advance  in  a  zigzag 
course.  Often  a  part  of  the  crew  would  have  to 
leap  into  the  water  at  the  shallows,  and  wade 


ASTORIA. 


335 


along  with  the  towing  line,  while  their  comrades 
on  board  toilfully  assisted  with  oar  and  setting 
pole.  Sometimes  the  boat  would  seem  to  be  re- 
tained motionless,  as  if  spellbound,  opposite  some 
point  round  which  the  current  set  with  violence, 
and  where  the  utmost  labor  scarce  effected  any 
visible  progress. 

On  these  occasions  it  was  that  the  merits  of  the 
Canadian  voyageurs  came  into  full  action.  Pa- 
tient of  toil,  not  to  be  disheartened  by  impedi- 
ments and  disappointments,  fertile  in  expedients, 
and  versed  in  every  mode  of  humoring  and  con- 
quering the  wayward  current,  they  would  ply 
every  exertion,  sometimes  in  the  boat,  sometimes 
on  shore,  sometimes  in  the  water,  however  cold  ; 
always  alert,  always  in  good  humor  ;  and,  should 
they  at  any  time  flag  or  grow  weary,  one  of  their 
popular  boat  songs,  chanted  by  a  veteran  oars- 
man, and  responded  to  in  chorus,  acted  as  a 
never-failing  restorative. 

By  such  assiduous  and  persevering  labor  they 
made  their  way  about  four  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  up  the  Missouri,  by  the  i6th  of  November, 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Nodowa.  As  this  was  a  good 
hunting  country,  and  as  the  season  was  rapidly 
advancing,  they  determined  to  establish  their 
winter  quarters  at  this  place  ;  and,  in  fact,  two 
days  after  they  had  come  to  a  halt,  the  river 
closed  just  above  their  encampment. 

The  party  had  not  been  long  at  this  place  when 
they  were  joined  by  Mr.  Robert  M'Lellan,  another 
trader  of  the  Missouri  ;  the  same  who  had  been 
associated  with  Mr.  Crooks  in  the  unfortunate  ex- 
pedition in  which  they  had  been  intercepted  by 
the  Sioux  Indians,  and  obliged  to  make  a  rapid 
retreat  down  the  river. 

M'Lellan  was  a  remarkable  man.  He  had 
been  a  partisan  under  General  Wayne,  in  his  In- 
dian wars,  where  he  had  distinguished  himself  by 
his  fiery  spirit  and  reckless  daring,  and  marvel- 
lous stories  were  told  of  his  exploits.  His  appear- 
ance answered  to  his  character.  His  frame  was 
meagre,  but  muscular  ;  showing  strength,  activ- 
ity, and  iron  firmness.  His  eyes  were  dark,  deep 
set,  and  piercing.  He  was  restless,  fearless,  but 
of  impetuous  and  sometimes  ungovernable  tem- 
per. He  had  been  invited  by  Mr.  Hunt  to  enroll 
himself  as  a  partner,  and  gladly  consented  ;  being 
pleased  with  the  thoughts  of  passing,  with  a  pow- 
erful force,  through  the  country  of  the  Sioux,  and 
perhaps  having  an  opportunity  of  revenging  him- 
self upon  that  lawless  tribe  for  their  past  offences. 

Another  recruit  that  joined  the  camp  at  Nodowa 
deserves  equal  mention.  This  was  John  Day,  a 
hunter  from  the  backwoods  of  Virginia,  who  had 
been  several  years  on  the  Missouri  in  the  service 
of  Mr.  Crooks,  and  of  other  traders.  He  was 
about  forty  years  of  age,  six  feet  two  inches  high, 
straight  as  an  Indian  ;  with  an  elastic  step  as  if 
he  trod  on  springs,  and  a  handsome,  open,  manly 
countenance.  It  was  his  boast  that  in  his 
vounger  days  nothing  could  hurt  or  daunt  him  ; 
but  he  had  "  lived  too  fast"  and  injured  his  con- 
stitution by  his  excesses.  Still  he  was  strong  of 
hand,  bold  of  heart,  a  prime  woodman,  and  an  al- 
most unerring  shot.  He  had  the  frank  spirit  of  a 
Virginian,  and  the  rough  heroism  of  a  pioneer  of 
the  west. 

The  party  were  now  brought  to  a  halt  for  sev- 
eral months.  They  were  in  a  country  abounding 
with  deer  and  wild  turkeys,  so  that  there  was  no 
stint  of  provisions,  and  every  one  appeared  cheer- 
ful and  contented.  Mr.  Hunt  determined  to  avail 
himself  of  this  interval  to  return  to  St.  Louis  and 
obtain  a  reinforcement.  He  wished  to  procure 


an  interpreter,  acquainted  with  the  language  of 
the  Sioux,  as,  from  all  accounts,  he  apprehended 
difficulties  in  passing  through  the  country  of  that 
nation.  He  felt  the  necessity,  also,  of  having  a 
greater  number  of  hunters,  not  merely  to  keep 
up  a  supply  of  provisions  throughout  their  long 
and  arduous  expedition,  but  also  as  a  protection 
and  defence,  in  case  of  Indian  hostilities.  For 
such  service  the  Canadian  voyageurs  were  little 
to  be  depended  upon,  fighting  not  being  a  part  of 
their  profession.  The  proper  kind  of  men  were 
American  hunters  experienced  in  savage  life  and 
savage  warfare,  and  possessed  of  the  true  game 
spirit  of  the  west. 

Leaving,  therefore,  the  encampment  in  charge 
of  the  other  partners,  Mr.  Hunt  set  off  on  foot  on 
the  first  of  January  (1810),  for  St.  Louis.  He  was 
accompanied  by  eight  men  as  far  as  Fort  Osage, 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  below  Nodowa. 
Here  he  procured  a  couple  of  horses,  and  pro- 
ceeded on  the  remainder  of  his  journey  with  two 
men,  sending  the  other  six  back  to  the  encamp- 
ment. He  arrived  at  St.  Louis  on  the  2oth  of 
January. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ON  this  his  second  visit  to  St.  Louis,  Mr.  Hunt 
was  again  impeded  in  his  plans  by  the  opposition 
of  the  Missouri  Fur  Company.  The  affairs  of  that 
company  were,  at  this  time,  in  a  very  dubious 
state.  During  the  preceding  year,  their  princi- 
pal establishment  at  the  forks  of  the  Missouri  had 
been  so  much  harassed  by  the  Blackfeet  Indians 
that  its  commander,  Mr.  Henry,  one  of  the  part- 
ners, had  been  compelled  to  abandon  the  post 
and  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  the  intention 
of  fixing  himself  upon  one  of  the  upper  branches 
of  the  Columbia.  What  had  become  of  him  and 
his  party  was  unknown.  The  most  intense  anxi- 
ety was  felt  concerning  them,  and  apprehensions 
that  they  might  have  been  cut  off  by  the  savages. 
At  the  time  of  Mr.  Hunt's  arrival  at  St.  Louis, 
the  Missouri  Company  were  fitting  out  an  expedi- 
tion to  go  in  quest  of  Mr.  Henry.  It  was  to  be 
conducted  by  Mr.  Manuel  Lisa,  the  enterprising 
partner  already  mentioned. 

There  being  thus  two  expeditions  on  foot  at  the 
same  moment,  an  unusual  demand  was  occasion- 
ed for  hunters  and  voyageurs,  who  accordingly 
profited  by  the  circumstance,  and  stipulated  for 
high  terms.  Mr.  Hunt  found  a  keen  and  subtle 
competitor  in  Lisa,  and  was  obliged  to  secure  his 
recruits  by  liberal  advances  of  pay,  and  by  other 
pecuniary  indulgences. 

The  greatest  difficulty  was  to  procure  the  Sioux 
interpreter.  There  was  but  one  man  to  be  met 
with  at  St.  Louis  who  was  fitted  for  the  purpose, 
but  to  secure  him  would  require  much  manage- 
ment. The  individual  in  question  was  a  half- 
breed,  named  Pierre  Dorion  ;  and,  as  he  figures 
hereafter  in  this  narrative,  and  is,  withal,  a  strik- 
ing specimen  of  the  hybrid  race  on  the  frontier, 
we  shall  give  a  few  particulars  concerning  him. 
Pierre  was  the  son  of  Dorion,  the  French  inter- 
preter, who  accompanied  Messrs.  Lewis  and 
Clarke  in  their  famous  exploring  expedition  across 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  Old  Dorion  was  one  of 
those  French  Creoles,  descendants  of  the  ancient 
Canadian  stock,  who  abound  on  the  western  fron- 
tier, and  amalgamate  or  cohabit  with  the  savages. 
He  had  sojourned  among  various  tribes,  and  per- 
haps left  progeny  among  them  all  ;  but  his  regu- 
lar or  habitual  wife  was  a  Sioux  squaw.  By  her 


336 


ASTORIA. 


he  had  a  hopeful  brood  of  half-breed  sons,  of 
whom  Pierre  was  one.  The  domestic  affairs  of 
old  Dorion  were  conducted  on  the  true  Indian 
plan.  Father  and  sons  would  occasionally  get 
drunk  together,  and  then  the  cabin  was  a  scene 
of  ruffian  brawl  and  fighting,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  old  Frenchman  was  apt  to  get  soundly 
belabored  by  his  mongrel  offspring.  In  a  furious 
scuffle  of  the  kind,  one  of  the  sons  got  the  old 
man  upon  the  ground,  and  was  upon  the  point  of 
scalping  him.  "Hold!  my  son,"  cried  the  old 
fellow,  in  imploring  accents,  "  you  are  too  brave, 
too  honorable  to  scalp  your  father  !"  This  last 
appeal  touched  the  French  side  of  the  half-breed's 
heart,  so  he  suffered  the  old  man  to  wear  his  scalp 
unharmed. 

Of  this  hopeful  stock  was  Pierre  Dorion,  the 
man  whom  it  was  now  the  desire  of  Mr.  Hunt  to 
engage  as  an  interpreter.  He  had  been  employed 
in  that  capacity  by  the  Missouri  Fur  Company 
during  the  preceding  year,  and  had  conducted 
their  traders  in  safety  through  the  different  tribes 
of  the  Sioux.  He  had  proved  himself  faithful  and 
serviceable  while  sober  ;  but  the  love  of  liquor,  in 
which  he  had  been  nurtured  and  brought  up, 
would  occasionally  break  out,  and  with  it  the  sav- 
age side  of  his  character. 

It  was  his  love  of  liquor  which  had  embroiled 
him  with  the  Missouri  Company.  While  in  their 
service  at  Fort  Mandan  on  the  frontier,  he  had 
been  seized  with  a  whiskey  mania  ;  and  as  the  bev- 
erage was  only  to  be  procured  at  the  company's 
store,  it  had  been  charged  in  his  account  at  the 
rate  of  ten  dollars  a  quart.  This  item  had  ever 
remain  unsettled,  and  a  matter  of  furious  dispute, 
the  mere  mention  of  which  was  sufficient  to  put 
him  in  a  passion. 

The  moment  it  was  discovered  by  Mr.  Lisa  that 
Pierre  Dorion  was  in  treaty  with  the  new  and  ri- 
val association,  he  endeavored,  by  threats  as 
well  as  promises,  to  prevent  his  engaging  in  their 
service.  His  promises  might,  perhaps,  have  pre- 
vailed ;  but  his  threats,  which  related  to  the 
whiskey  debt,  only  served  to  drive  Pierre  into  the 
opposite  ranks.  Still,  he  took  advantage  of  this 
competition  for  his  services  to  stand  out  with 
Mr.  Hunt  on  the  most  advantageous  terms,  and, 
after  a  negotiation  of  nearly  two  weeks,  capitu- 
lated to  serve  in  the  expedition,  as  hunter  and 
interpreter,  at  the  rate  of  three  hundred  dollars 
a  year,  two  hundred  of  which  were  to  be  paid  in 
advance. 

When  Mr.  Hunt  had  got  everything  ready  for 
leaving  St.  Louis,  new  difficulties  rose.  Five  of 
the  American  hunters  from  the  encampment  at 
Nodowa,  suddenly  made  their  appearance.  They 
alleged  that  they  had  been  ill  treated  by  the 
partners  at  the  encampment,  and  had  come  off 
clandestinely,  in  consequence  of  a  dispute.  It 
was  useless  at  the  present  moment,  and  under 
present  circumstances,  to  attempt  any  compul- 
sory measures  with  these  deserters.  Two  of 
them  Mr.  Hunt  prevailed  upon,  by  mild  means, 
to  return  with  him.  The  rest  refused  ;  nay,  what 
was  worse,  they  spread  such  reports  of  the  hard- 
ships and  dangers  to  be  apprehended  in  the 
course  of  the  expedition,  that  they  struck  a  panic 
into  those  hunters  who  had  recently  engaged  at 
St.  Louis,  and,  when  the  hour  of  departure  ar- 
rived, all  but  one  refused  to  embark.  It  was  in 
vain  to  plead  or  remonstrate  ;  they  shouldered 
their  rifles  and  turned  their  back  upon  the  expedi- 
tion, and  Mr.  Hunt  was  fain  to  put  off  from  shore 
with  the  single  hunter  and  a  number  of  voyageurs 
whom  he  had  engaged.  Even  Pierre  Dorion,  at 


the  last  moment,  refused  to  enter  the  boat  until 
Mr.  Hunt  consented  to  take  his  squaw  and  two 
children  on  board  also.  But  the  tissue  of  perplex- 
ities, on  account  of  this  worthy  individual,  did  not 
end  here. 

Among  the  various  persons  who  were  about  to 
proceed  up  the  Missouri  with  Mr.  Hunt,  were  two 
scientific  gentlemen  :  one  Mr.  John  Bradbury,  a 
man  of  mature  age,  but  great  enterprise  and  per- 
sonal activity,  who  had  been  sent  out  by  the  Lin- 
naean  Society  of  Liverpool,  to  make  a  collection 
of  American  plants  ;  the  other,  a  Mr.  Nuttall, 
likewise  an  Englishman,  younger  in  years,  who 
has  since  made  himself  known  as  the  author  of 
"  Travels  in  Arkansas,"  and  a  work  on  the  "  Gen- 
era of  American  Plants."  Mr.  Hunt  had  offered 
them  the  protection  and  facilities  of  his  party,  in 
their  scientific  researches  up  the  Missouri.  As 
they  were  not  ready  to  depart  at  the  moment  of 
embarkation,  they  put  their  trunks  on  board  of 
the  boat,  but  remained  at  St.  Louis  until  the  next 
day,  for  the  arrival  of  the  post,  intending  to  join 
the  expedition  at  St.  Charles,  a  short  distance 
above  the  mouth  of  the  Missouri. 

The  same  evening,  however,  they  learned  that 
a  writ  had  been  issued  against  Pierre  Dorion  for 
his  whiskey  debt,  by  Mr.  Lisa,  as  agent  of  the  Mis- 
souri Company,  and  that  it  was  the  intention  to 
entrap  the  mongrel  linguist  on  his  arrival  at  St. 
Charles.  Upon  hearing  this,  Mr.  Bradbury  and 
Mr.  Nuttall  set  off  a  little  after  midnight,  by  land, 
got  ahead  of  the  boat  as  it  was  ascending  the 
Missouri,  before  its  arrival  at  St.  Charles,  and 
gave  Pierre  Dorion  warning  of  the  legal  toil  pre- 
pared to  ensnare  him.  The  knowing  Pierre  im- 
mediately landed  and  took  to  the  woods,  followed 
by  his  squaw  laden  with  their  papooses,  and  a 
large  bundle  containing  their  most  precious  ef- 
fects, promising  to  rejoin  the  party  some  distance 
above  St.  Charles.  There  seemed  little  depend- 
ence to  be  placed  upon  the  promises  of  a  loose  ad- 
venturer of  the  kind,  who  was  at  the  very  time 
playing  an  evasive  game  with  his  former  employ- 
ers ;  who  had  already  received  two  thirds  of  his 
year's  pay,  and  had  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  his 
family  and  worldly  fortune  at  his  heels,  and  the 
wild  woods  before  him.  There  was  no  alterna- 
tive, however,  and  it  was  hoped  his  pique  against 
his  old  employers  would  render  him  faithful  to 
his  new  ones. 

The  party  reached  St.  Charles  in  the  afternoon, 
but  the  harpies  of  the  law  looked  in  vain  for  their 
expected  prey.  The  boats  resumed  their  course 
on  the  following  morning,  and  had  not  proceeded 
far  when  Pierre  Dorion  made  his  appearance  on 
the  shore.  He  was  gladly  taken  on  board,  but 
he  came  without  his  squaw.  They  had  quarrelled 
in  the  night  ;  Pierre  had  administered  the  Indian 
discipline  of  the  cudgel,  whereupon  she  had  taken 
to  the  woods,  with  their  children  and  all  their 
worldly  goods.  Pierre  evidently  was  deeply 
grieved  and  disconcerted  at  the  loss  of  his  wife 
and  his  knapsack,  wherefore  Mr.  Hunt  dispatched 
one  of  the  Canadian  voyageurs  in  search  of  the 
fugitive  ;  and  the  whole  party,  after  proceeding 
a  few  miles  further,  encamped  on  an  island  to 
await  his  return.  The  Canadian  rejoined  the  ' 
party,  but  without  the  squaw  ;  and  Pierre  Do- 
rion passed  a  solitary  and  anxious  night,  bitterly 
regretting  his  indiscretion  in  having  exercised  his 
conjugal  authority  so  near  home.  Before  day- 
break, however,  a  well-known  voice  reached  his 
ears  from  the  opposite  shore.  It  was  his  repent- 
ant spouse,  who  had  been  wandering  the  woods 
all  night  in  quest  of  the  party,  and  had  at  length 


ASTORIA. 


337 


descried  it  by  its  fires.  A  boat  was  dispatched 
for  her,  the  interesting  family  was  once  more 
united,  and  Mr.  Hunt  now  flattered  himself  that 
his  perplexities  with  Pierre  Dorion  were  at  an  end. 

Bad  weather,  very  heavy  rains,  and  an  unusually 
early  rise  in  the  Missouri  rendered  the  ascent  of 
the  river  toilsome,  slow,  and  dangerous.  The  rise 
of  the  Missouri  does  not  generally  take  place  until 
the  month  of  May  or  June  ;  the  present  swelling 
of  the  river  must  have  been  caused  by  a  freshet  in 
some  of  its  more  southern  branches.  It  could  not 
have  been  the  great  annual  flood,  as  the  higher 
branches  must  still  have  been  ice-bound. 

And  here  we  cannot  but  pause,  to  notice  the 
admirable  arrangement  of  nature,  by  which  the 
annual  swellings  of  the  various  great  rivers  which 
empty  themselves  into  the  Mississippi  have  been 
made  to  precede  each  other  at  considerable  inter- 
vals. Thus,  the  flood  of  the  Red  River  precedes 
that  of  the  Arkansas  by  a  month.  The  Arkansas, 
also,  rising  in  a  much  more  southern  latitude  than 
the  Missouri,  takes  the  lead  of  it  in  its  annual  ex- 
cess, and  its  superabundant  waters  are  disgorged 
and  disposed  of  long  before  the  breaking  up  of  the 
icy  barriers  of  the  north  ;  otherwise,  did  all  these 
mighty  streams  rise  simultaneously,  and  discharge 
their  vernal  floods  into  the  Mississippi,  an  inun- 
dation would  be  the  consequence,  that  would  sub- 
merge and  devastate  all  the  lower  country. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  third  day,  January  I7th, 
the  boats  touched  at  Charette,  one  of  the  old  vil- 
lages founded  by  the  original  French  colonists. 
Here  they  met  with  Daniel  Boone,  the  renowned 
patriarch  of  Kentucky,  who  had  kept  in  the  ad- 
vance of  civilization,  and  on  the  borders  of  the  wil- 
derness, still  leading  a  hunter's  life,  though  now 
in  his  eighty-fifth  year.  He  had  but  recently  re- 
turned from  a  hunting  and  trapping  expedition, 
and  had  brought  nearly  sixty  beaver  skins  as  tro- 
phies of  his  skill.  The  old  man  was  still  erect  in 
form,  strong  in  limb,  and  unflinching  in  spirit, 
and  as  he  stood  on  the  river  bank,  watching  the 
departure  of  an  expedition  destined  to  traverse  the 
wilderness  to  the  very  shores  of  the  Pacific,  very 
probably  felt  a  throb  of  his  old  pioneer  spirit,  im- 
pelling him  to  shoulder  his  rifle  and  join  the  ad- 
venturous band.  Boone  flourished  several  years 
after  this  meeting,  in  a  vigorous  old  age,  the  Nes- 
tor of  hunters  and  backwoodsmen  ;  and  died,  full 
of  sylvan  honor  and  renown,  in  1818,  in  his  ninety- 
second  year. 

The  next  morning  early,  as  the  party  were  yet 
encamped  at  the  mouth  of  a  small  stream,  they 
were  visited  by  another  of  these  heroes  of  the  wil- 
derness, one  John  Colter,  who  had  accompanied 
Lewis  and  Clarke  in  their  memorable  expedition. 
He  had  recently  made  one  of  those  vast  internal 
voyages  so  characteristic  of  this  fearless  class  of 
men,  and  of  the  immense  regions  over  which  they 
hold  their  lonely  wanderings  ;  having  come  from 
the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri  to  St.  Louis  in  a 
small  canoe.  This  distance  of  three  thousand 
miles  he  had  accomplished  in  thirty  days.  Colter 
kept  with  the  party  all  the  morning.  He  had  many 
particulars  to  give  them  concerning  the  Blackfeet 
Indians,  a  restless  and  predatory  tribe,  who  had 
conceived  an  implacable  hostility  to  the  white 
men,  in  consequence  of  one  of  their  warriors  hav- 
ing been  killed  by  Captain  Lewis,  while  attempt- 
ing to  steal  horses.  Through  the  country  infested 
by  these  savages  the  expedition  would  have  to  pro- 
ceed, and  Colter  was  urgent  in  reiterating  the  pre- 
cautions that  ought  to  be  observed  respecting 
them.  He  had  himself  experienced  their  vin- 
dictive cruelty,  and  his  story  deserves  particular 


citation,  as  showing  the  hairbreadth  adventures 
to  which  these  solitary  rovers  of  the  wilderness 
are  exposed. 

Colter,  with  the  hardihood  of  a  regular  trapper, 
had  cast  himself  loose  from  the  party  of  Lewis 
and  Clarke  in  the  very  heart  of  the  wilderness,  and 
had  remained  to  trap  beaver  alone  on  the  head- 
waters of  the  Missouri.  Here  he  fell  in  with 
another  lonely  trapper,  like  himself,  named  Potts, 
and  they  agreed  to  keep  together.  They  were  in 
the  very  region  of  the  terrible  Blackfeet,  at  that  time 
thirsting  to  revenge  the  death  of  their  companion, 
and  knew  that  they  had  to  expect  no  mercy  at  their 
hands.  They  were  obliged  to  keep  concealed  all 
day  in  the  woody  margins  of  the  rivers,  setting 
their  traps  after  nightfall,  and  taking  them  up  be- 
fore daybreak.  It  was  running  a  fearful  risk  for 
the  sake  of  a  few  beaver  skins  ;  but  such  is  the  life 
of  the  trapper. 

They  were  on  a  branch  of  the  Missouri  called 
Jefferson's  Fork,  and  had  set  their  traps  at  night, 
about  six  miles  up  a  small  river  that  emptied  into 
the  fork.  Early  in  the  morning  they  ascended  the 
river  in  a  canoe,  to  examine  the  traps.  The  banks 
on  each  side  were  high  and  perpendicular,  and 
cast  a  shade  over  the  stream.  As  they  were  softly 
paddling  along,  they  heard  the  trampling  of  many 
feet  upon  the  banks.  Colter  immediately  gave  the 
alarm  of  "  Indians  !"  and  was  for  instant  retreat. 
Potts  scoffed  at  him  for  being  frightened  by  the 
trampling  of  a  herd  of  buffaloes.  Colter  checked 
his  uneasiness  and  paddled  forward.  They  had 
not  gone  much  further  when  frightful  whoops 
and  yells  burst  forth  from  each  side  of  the  river, 
and  several  hundred  Indians  appeared  on  either 
bank.  Signs  were  made  to  the  unfortunate  trap- 
pers to  come  on  shore.  They  were  obliged  to  com- 
ply.  Before  they  could  get  out  of  their  canoes,  a 
savage  seized  the  rifle  belonging  to  Potts.  Colter 
sprang  on  shore,  wrested  the  weapon  from  the 
hands  of  the  Indian,  and  restored  it  to  his  com- 
panion, who  was  still  in  the  canoe,  and  imme- 
diately pushed  into  the  stream.  There  was  the 
sharp  twang  of  a  bow,  and  Potts  cried  out  that  he 
was  wounded.  Colter  urged  him  to  come  on 
shore  and  submit,  as  his  only  chance  tor  life  ;  but 
the  other  knew  there  was  no  prospect  of  mercy, 
and  determined  to  die  game.  Levelling  his  rifle, 
he  shot  one  of  the  savages  dead  on  the  spot.  The 
next  moment  he  fell  himself,  pierced  with  innu- 
merable arrows.  The  vengeance  of  the  savages 
now  turned  upon  Colter.  He  was  stripped  naked, 
and,  having  some  knowledge  of  the  Blackfoot 
language,  overheard  a  consultation  as  to  the  mode 
of  dispatching  him,  so  as  to  derive  the  greatest 
amusement  from  his  death.  Some  were  for  set- 
ting him  up  as  a  mark,  and  having  a  trial  of  skill 
at  his  expense.  The  chief,  however,  was  for 
nobler  sport.  He  seized  Colter  by  the  shoulder, 
and  demanded  if  he  could  run  fast.  The  unfor- 
tunate trapper  was  too  well  acquainted  with  In- 
dian customs  not  to  comprehend  the  drift  of  the 
question.  He  knew  he  was  to  run  for  his  life,  to 
furnish  a  kind  of  human  hunt  to  his  persecutors. 
Though  in  reality  he  was  noted  among  his  brother 
hunters  for  swiftness  of  foot,  he  assured  the  chief 
that  he  was  a  very  bad  runner.  His  stratagem 
gained  him  some  vantage  ground.  He  was  led  by 
the  chief  into  the  prairie,  about  four  hundred  yards 
from  the  main  body  of  savages,  and  then  turned 
loose  to  save  himself  if  he  could.  A  tremendous  yell 
let  him  know  that  the  whole  pack  of  bloodhounds 
were  off  in  full  cry.  Colter  flew,  rather  than  ran  ; 
he  was  astonished  at  his  own  speed  ;  but  he  had 
six  miles  of  prairie  to  traverse  before  he  should 


388 


ASTORIA. 


reach  the  Jefferson  Fork'  of  the  Missouri  ;  how 
could  he  hope  to  hold  out  such  a  distance  with  the 
fearful  odds  of  several  hundred  to  one  against 
him  !  The  plain  too  abounded  with  the  prickly 
pear,  which  wounded  his  naked  feet.  Still  he 
fled  on,  dreading  each  moment  to  hear  the  twang 
of  a  bow,  and  to  feel  an  arrow  quivering  at  his 
heart.  He  did  not  even  dare  to  look  round,  lest 
he  should  lose  an  inch  of  that  distance  on  which 
his  life  depended.  He  had  ran  nearly  half  way 
across  the  plain  when  the  sound  of  pursuit  grew 
somewhat  fainter,  and  he  ventured  to  turn  his 
head.  The  main  body  of  his  pursuers  were  a 
considerable  distance  behind  ;  several  of  the 
fastest  runners  were  scattered  in  the  advance  ; 
while  a  swift-footed  warrior,  armed  with  a  spear, 
was  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  behind  him. 

Inspired  with  new  hope,  Colter  redoubled  his 
exertions,  but  strained  himself  to  such  a  degree 
that  the  blood  gushed  from  his  mouth  and  nostrils 
and  streamed  clown  his  breast.  He  arrived  within 
a  mile  of  the  river.  The  sound  of  footsteps 
gathered  upon  him.  A  glance  behind  showed  his 
pursuer  within  twenty  yards,  and  preparing  to 
launch  his  spear.  Stopping  short,  he  turned 
round  and  spread  out  his  arms.  The  savage, 
confounded  by  this  sudden  action,  attempted  to 
stop  and  hurl  his  spear,  but  fell  in  the  very 
act.  His  spear  stuck  in  the  ground,  and  the 
shaft  broke  in  his  hand.  Colter  plucked  up 
the  pointed  part,  pinned  the  savage  to  the 
earth,  and  continued  his  flight.  The  Indians, 
as  they  arrived  at  their  slaughtered  com- 
panion, stopped  to  howl  over  him.  Colter  made 
the  most  of  this  precious  delay,  gained  the  skirt 
of  cotton-wood  bordering  the  river,  dashed 
through  it,  and  plunged  into  the  stream.  He 
swam  to  a  neighboring  island,  against  the  upper 
end  of  which  the  driftwood  had  lodged  in  such 
quantities  as  to  form  a  natural  raft ;  under  this 
he  dived,  and  swam  below  water  until  he  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  a  breathing  place  between  the 
floating  trunks  of  trees,  whose  branches  and 
bushes  formed  a  covert  several  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  water.  He  had  scarcely  drawn  breath 
after  all  his  toils,  when  he  heard  his  pursuers  on 
the  river  bank,  whooping  and  yelling  like  so  many 
fiends.  They  plunged  in  the  river,  and  swam  to 
the  raft.  The  heart  of  Colter  almost  died  within 
him  as  he  saw  them,  through  the  chinks  of  his 
concealment,  passing  and  repassing,  and  seeking 
for  him  in  all  directions.  They  at  length  gave  up 
the  search,  and  he  began  to  rejoice  in  his  escape, 
when  the  idea  presented  itself  that  they  might  set 
the  raft  on  fire.  Here  was  a  new  source  of  horrible 
apprehension,  irt  which  he  remained  until  night- 
fall. Fortunately,  the 'idea  did  not  suggest  itself 
to  the  Indians.  As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  finding 
by  the  silence  around  that  his  pursuers  had  de- 
parted, Colter  dived  again  and  came  up  beyond 
the  raft.  He  then  swam  silently  down  the  river 
for  a  considerable  distance,  when  he  landed,  and 
kept  on  all  night,  to  get  as  far  off  as  possible  from 
this  dangerous  neighborhood. 

By  daybreak  he  had  gained  sufficient  distance  to 
relieve  him  from  the  terrors  of  his  savage  foes  ; 
but  now  new  sources  of  inquietude  presented 
themselves.  He  was  naked  and  alone,  in  the 
midst  of  an  unbounded  wilderness  ;  his  only 
chance  was  to  reach  a  trading  post  of  the  Mis- 
souri Company,  situated  on  a  branch  of  the  Yellow- 
stone River.  Even  should  he  elude  his  pursuers, 
days  must  elapse  before  he  could  reach  this  post, 
during  which  he  must  traverse  immense  prairies 
destitute  of  shade,  his  naked  body  exposed  to  the 


burning  heat  of  the  sun  by  day,  and  the  dews  and 
chills  of  the  night  season  ;  and  his  feet  lacerated 
by  the  thorns  of  the  prickly  pear.  Though  he 
might  see  game  in  abundance  around  him,  he  had 
no  means  of  killing  any  for  his  sustenance,  and 
must  depend  for  food  upon  the  roots  of  the  earth. 
In  defiance  of  these  difficulties  he  pushed  reso- 
lutely forward,  guiding  himself  in  his  trackless 
course  by  those  signs  and  indications  known  only 
to  Indians  and  backwoodsmen  ;  and  after  braving 
dangers  and  hardships  enough  to  break  down  any 
spirit  but  that  of  a  western  pioneer,  arrived  safe 
at  the  solitary  post  in  question.* 

Such  is  a  sample  of  the  rugged  experience  which 
Colter  had  to  relate  of  savage  life  ;  yet,  with  all 
these  perils  and  terrors  fresh  in  his  recollection, 
he  could  not  see  the  present  band  on  their  way  to 
those  regions  of  danger  and  adventure,  without 
feeling  a  vehement  impulse  to  join  them.  A  west- 
ern trapper  is  like  a  sailor  ;  past  hazards  only 
stimulate  him  to  further  risks.  The  vast  prairie  is 
to  the  one  what  the  ocean  is  to  the  other,  a  bound- 
less field  of  enterprise  and  exploit.  However  he 
may  have  suffered  in  his  last  cruise,  he  is  always 
ready  to  join  a  new  expedition  ;  and  the  more  ad- 
venturous its  nature,  the  more  attractive  is  it  to  his 
vagrant  spirit. 

Nothing  seems  to  have  kept  Colter  from  con- 
tinuing with  the  party  to  the  shores  of  the  Pacific 
but  the  circumstance  of  his  having  recently  mar- 
ried. All  the  morning  he  kept  with  them,  balanc- 
ing in  his  mind  the  charms  of  his  bride  against 
those  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  the  former,  how- 
ever prevailed,  and  after  a  march  of  several  miles, 
he  took  a  reluctant  leave  of  the  travellers,  and 
turned  his  face  homeward. 

Continuing  their  progress  up  the  Missouri,  the 
party  encamped,  on  the  evening  of  the  2ist  of 
March,  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  little  frontier  vil- 
lage of  French  Creoles.  Here  Pierre  Dorion  met 
with  some  of  his  old  comrades,  with  whom  he  had 
a  long  gossip,  and  returned  to  the  camp  with  ru- 
mors of  bloody  feuds  between  the  Osages  and  the 
loways,  or  Ayaways,  Potowatomies,  Sioux,  and 
Sawkees.  Blood  had  already  been  shed,  and 
scalps  been  taken.  A  war  party,  three  hundred 
strong,  were  prowling  in  the  neighborhood  ; 
others  might  be  met  with  higher  up  the  river  ;  it 
behooved  the  travellers,  therefore,  to  be  upon  their 
guard  against  robbery  or  surprise,  for  an  Indian 
war  party  on  the  march  is  prone  to  acts  of  out- 
rage. 

In  consequence  of  this  report,  which  was  subse- 
quently confirmed  by  further  intelligence,  a  guard 
was  kept  up  at  night  round  the  encampment,  and 
they  all  slept  on  their  arms.  As  they  were  sixteen 
in  number,  and  well  supplied  with  weapons  and 
ammunition,  they  trusted  to  be  able  to  give  any 
marauding  party  a  warm  reception.  Nothing  oc- 
curred, however,  to  molest  them  on  their  vovage, 
and  on  the  8th  of  April  they  came  in  sight  of  Fort 
Osage.  On  their  approach  the  flag  was  hoisted 
on  the  fort,  and  they  saluted  it  by  a  discharge  of 
firearms.  Within  a  short  distance  of  the  fort  was 
an  Osage  village,  the  inhabitants  of  which,  men, 
women,  and  children,  thronged  down  to  the 
water  side  to  witness  their  landing.  One  of  the 
first  persons  they  met  on  the  river  bank  was  Mr. 
Crooks,  who  had  come  down  in  a  boat,  with  nine 
men,  from  the  winter  encampment  at  Nodovva,  to 
meet  them. 

They  remained  at  Fort  Osage  a  part  of  three 
days,  during  which  they  were  hospitablv  enter- 

*  Bradbury.     Travels  in  America,  p.  17.    . 


ASTORIA. 


339 


tainecl  at  the  garrison  by  Lieutenant  Brownson, 
who  held  a  temporary  command.  They  were  re- 
galed also  with  a  war-feast  at  the  village  ;  the 
Osage  warriors  having  returned  from  a  successful 
foray  against  the  loways,  in  which  they  had  taken 
seven  scalps.  These  were  paraded  on  poles  about 
the  village,  followed  by  the  warriors  decked  out  in 
all  their  savage  ornaments,  and  hideously  painted 
as  if  for  battle. 

By  the  Osage  warriors,  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  com- 
panions were  again  warned  to  be  on  their  guard 
in  ascending  the  river,  as  the  Sioux  tribe  meant  to 
lay  in  wait  and  attack  them. 

On  the  loth  of  April  they  again  embarked,  their 
party  being  now  augmented  to  twenty-six,  by  the 
addition  ot  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  boat's  crew.  They 
had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  when  there  was 
a  great  outcry  from  one  of  the  boats  ;  it  was  occa- 
sioned by  a  little  domestic  discipline  in  the  Dorion 
family.  The  squaw  of  the  worthy  interpreter,  it 
appeared,  had  been  so  delighted  with  the  scalp- 
dance,  and  other  festivities  of  the  Osage  village, 
that  she  had  taken  a  strong  inclination  to  remain 
there.  This  had  been  as  strongly  opposed  by  her 
liege  lord,  who  had  compelled  her  to  embark.  The 
good  dame  had  remained  sulky  ever  since, 
whereupon  Pierre,  seeiqg  no  other  mode  of  exor- 
cising the  evil  spirit  out  of  her,  and  being,  per- 
haps, a  little  inspired  by  whiskey,  had  resorted  to 
the  Indian  remedy  of  the  cudgel,  and,  before  his 
neighbors  could  interfere,  had  belabored  her  so 
soundly  that  there  is  no  record  of  her  having 
shown  any  refractory  symptoms  throughout  the 
remainder  of  the  expedition. 

For  a  week  they  continued  their  voyage,  ex- 
posed to  almost  incessant  rains.  The  bodies  of 
drowned  buffaloes  floated  past  them  in  vast  num- 
bers'; many  had  drifted  upon  the  shore,  or 
against  the  upper  ends  ot  the  rafts  and  islands. 
These  had  attracted  great  flights  of  turkey-buz- 
zards ;  some  were  banqueting  on  the  carcasses, 
others  were  soaring  far  aloft  in  the  sky,  and  others 
were  perched  on  the  trees,  with  their  backs  to  the 
sun,  and  their  wings  stretched  out  to  dry,  like  so 
many  vessels  in  harbor,  spreading  their  sails 
after  a  shower. 

The  turkey-buzzard  (vultur  aura,  or  golden  vul- 
ture), when  on  the  wing,  Is  one  of  the  most  spe- 
cious and  imposing  of  birds.  Its  flight  in  the 
upper  regions  of  the  air  is  really  sublime,  extend- 
ing its  immense  wings,  and  wheeling  slowly  and 
majestically  to  and  fro,  seemingly  without  exerting 
a  muscle  or  fluttering  a  feather,  but  moving  by 
mere  volition,  and  sailing  on  the  bosom  of  the 
air  as  a  ship  upon  the  ocean.  Usurping  the  em- 
pyreal realm  of  the  eagle,  he  assumes  tor  a  time 
the  port  and  dignity  of  that  majestic  bird,  and 
often  is  mistaken  for  him  by  ignorant  crawlers 
upon  earth.  It  is  only  when  he  descends  from  the 
clouds  to  pounce  upon  carrion  that  he  betrays  his 
low  propensities,  and  reveals  his  caitiff  character. 
Near  at  hand  he  is  a  disgusting  bird,  ragged  in 
plumage,  base  in  aspect,  and  of  loathsome  odor. 

On  the  I yth  of  April  Mr.  Hunt  arrived  with  his 
party  at  the  station  near  the  Nodowa  River, 
where  the  main  body  had  been  quartered  during 
the  winter. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  weather  continued  rainy  and  ungCnial  for 
some  days  after  Mr.  Hunt's  return  to  Nodowa  ; 
yet  spring  was  rapidly  advancing  and  vegetation 
was  putting  forth  with  all  its  early  freshness  and 


beauty.  The  snakes  began  to  recover  from  their 
torpor  and  crawl  forth  into  day,  and  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  wintering  house  seems  to  have  been 
much  infested  with  them.  Mr.  Bradbury,  in  the 
course  of  his  botanical  researches,  found  a  sur- 
prising number  in  a  half  torpid  state,  under  flat 
stones  upon  the  banks  which  overhung  the  can- 
tonment, and  narrowly  escaped  being  struck  by  a 
rattlesnake,  which  started  at  him  from  a  cleft  in 
the  rock,  but  fortunately  gave  him  warning  by  its 
rattle. 

The  pigeons  too  were  filling  the  woods  in  vast 
migratory  flocks.  It  is  almost  incredible  to  de- 
scribe the  prodigious  flights  of  these  birds  in  the 
western  wildernesses.  They  appear  absolutely  in 
clouds,  and  move  with  astonishing  velocity,  their 
wings  making  a  whistling  sound  as  they  fly.  The 
rapid  evolutions  of  these  flocks,  wheeling  and  shift- 
ing suddenly  as  if  with  one  mind  and  one  im- 
pulse ;  the  flashing  changes  of  color  they  present, 
as  their  backs,  their  breasts,  or  the  under  part  of 
their  wings  are  turned  to  the  spectator,  are  sin- 
gularly pleasing.  When  they  alight,  if  on  the 
ground,  they  cover  whole  acres  at  a  time  ;  if  upon 
trees,  the  branches  often  break  beneath  their 
weight.  If  suddenly  startled  while  feeding  in  the 
midst  of  a  forest,  the  noise  they  make  in  getting 
on  the  wing  is  like  the  roar  of  a  cataract  or  the 
sound  of  distant  thunder. 

A  flight  of  this  kind  like  an  Egyptian  flight  of 
locusts  devours  everything  that  serves  for  its  food 
as  it  passes  along.  So  great  were  the  numbers  in 
the  vicinity  ot  the  camp  that  Mr.  Bradbury,  in  the 
course  of  a  morning's  excursion,  shot  nearly  three 
hundred  with  a  fowling-piece.  He  gives  a  cu- 
rious, though  apparently  a  faithful,  account  of  the 
kind  of  discipline  observed  in  these  immense 
flocks,  so  that  each  may  have  a  chance  of  picking 
up  food.  As  the  front  ranks  must  meet  with  the 
greatest  abundance,  and  the  rear  ranks  must  have 
scanty  pickings,  the  instant  a  rank  finds  itself  the 
hindmost,  it  rises  in  the  air,  flies  over  the  whole 
flock,  and  takes  its  place  in  the  advance.  The 
next  rank  follows  in  its  course,  and  thus  the  last 
is  continually  becoming  first,  and  all  by  turns 
have  a  front  place  a't  the  banquet. 

The  rains  having  at  length  subsided,  Mr.  Hunt 
broke  up  the  encampment  and  resumed  his  course 
up  the  Missouri. 

The  party  now  consisted  of  nearly  sixty  persons  : 
of  whom  five  were  partners  ;  one,  John  Reed, 
was  a  clerk  ;  forty  were  Canadian  "  voyageurs, " 
or  "engages,"  and  there  were  several  hunters. 
They  embarked  in  four  boats,  one  of  which  was 
of  a  large  size,  mounting  a  swivel  and  two  how- 
itzers. All  were  furnished  with  masts  and  sails, 
to  be  used  when  the  wind  was  sufficiently  favor- 
able and  strong  to  overpower  the  current  of  the 
river.  Such  was  the  case  for  the  first  four  or  five 
days,  when  they  were  wafted  steadily  up  the 
stream  by  a  strong  southeaster. 

Their  encampments  at  night  were  often  pleas- 
ant and  picturesque  :  on  some  beautiful  bank  be- 
neath spreading  trees,  which  afforded  them  shel- 
ter and  fuel.  The  tents  were  pitched,  the  fires 
made  and  the  meals  prepared  by  the  voyageurs, 
and  many  a  story  was  told,  and  joke  passed,  and 
song  sung,  round  the  evening  fire.  All,  how- 
ever, were  asleep  at  an  early  hour.  Some  under 
the  tents,  others  wrapped  in  blankets  before  the 
fire,  or  beneath  the  trees  ;  and  some  few  in  the 
boats  and  canoes. 

On  the  28th  they  breakfasted  on  one  of  the 
islands  which  lie  at  the  mouth  of  the  Nebraska  or 
Platte  River,  the  largest  tributary  of  the  Missouri, 


340 


ASTORIA. 


and  about  six  hundred  miles  above  its  confluence 
with  the  Mississippi.  This  broad  but  shallow 
stream  flows  for  an  immense  distance  through  a 
wide  and  verdant  valley  scooped  out  of  boundless 
prairies.  It  draws  its  main  supplies,  by  several 
forks  or  branches,  from  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  mouth  of  this  river  is  established  as  the  di- 
viding point  between  the  upper  and  lower  Mis- 
souri ;  and  the  earlier  voyagers,  in  their  toilsome 
ascent,  before  the  introduction  of  steamboats, 
considered  one  half  of  their  labors  accomplished 
when  they  reached  this  place.  The  passing  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Nebraska,  therefore,  was  equivalent 
among  boatmen  to  the  crossing  of  the  line  among 
sailors,  and  was  celebrated  with  like  ceremonials 
of  a  rough  and  waggish  nature,  practised  upon 
the  uninitiated  ;  among  which  was  the  old  nau- 
tical joke  of  shaving.  The  river  deities,  however, 
like  those  cf  the  sea,  were  to  be  propitiated  by  a 
bribe,  and  the  infliction  of  these  rude  honors  to 
be  parried  by  a  treat  to  the  adepts. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  Nebraska  new  signs  were 
met  with  of  war  parties  which  had  recently  been 
in  the  vicinity.  There  was  the  frame  of  a  skin 
,canoe,  in  which  the  warriors  had  traversed  the 
river.  At  night,  also,  the  lurid  reflection  of  im- 
mense fires  hung  in  the  sky,  showing  the  confla- 
gration of  great  tracts  of  the  prairies.  Such  fires 
not  being  made  by  hunters  so  late  in  the  season, 
it  was  supposed  they  were  caused  by  some  wan- 
dering war  parties.  These  often  take  the  precau- 
tion to  set  the  prairies  on  fire  behind  them  to  con- 
ceal their  traces  from  their  enemies.  This  is 
chiefly  done  when  the  party  has  been  unsuccess- 
ful, and  is  on  the  retreat,  and  apprehensive  of 
pursuit.  At  such  time  it  is  not  safe  even  for 
friends  to  fall  in  with  them,  as  they  are  apt  to  be 
in  savage  humor,  and  disposed  to  vent  their 
spleen  in  capricious  outrage.  These  signs,  there- 
fore, of  a  band  of  marauders  on  the  prowl,  called 
for  some  degree  of  vigilance  on  the  part  of  the 
travellers.. 

After  passing  the  Nebraska,  the  party  halted  for 
part  of  two  days  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  a  little 
above  Papfllion  Creek,  to  supply  themselves  with 
a  stock  of  oars  and  poles  from  the  tough  wood  of 
the  ash,  which  is  not  met  with  higher  up  the  Mis- 
souri. While  the  voyageurs  were  thus  occupied, 
the  naturalists  rambled  over  the  adjacent  country 
to  collect  plants.  From  the  summit  of  a  range  of 
bluffs  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  they  had  one  of  those 
vast  and  magnificent  prospects  which  sometimes 
unfold  themselves  in  these  boundless  regions.  Be- 
low them  was  the  valley  of  the  Missouri,  about 
seven  miles  in  breadth,  clad  in  the  iresh  verdure 
of  spring  ;  enamelled  with  flowers  and  inter- 
spersed with  clumps  and  groves  of  noble  trees,  be- 
tween which  the  mighty  river  poured  its  turbu- 
lent and  turbid  stream.  The  interior  of  the 
country  presented  a  singular  scene  ;  the  immense 
waste  being  broken  up  by  innumerable  green 
hills,  not  above  eighty  feet  in  height,  but  extremely 
steep,  and  acutely  pointed  at  their  summits.  A 
long  line  of  bluffs  extended  for  upward  of  thirty 
miles,  parallel  to  the  Missouri,  with  a  shallow  lake 
stretching  along  their  base,  which  had  evidently 
once  formed  a  bed  of  the  river.  The  surface  of  this 
lake  was  covered  with  aquatic  plants,  on  the  broad 
leaves  of  which  numbers  of  water-snakes,  drawn 
forth  by  the  genial  warmth  of  spring,  were  basking 
in  the  sunshine. 

On  the  2d  of  May,  at  the  usual  hour  of  embark- 
ing, the  camp  was  thrown  into  some  confusion  by 
•two  of  the  hunters,  named  Harrington,  express- 


ing their  intention  to  abandon  the  expedition  and 
return  home.  One  of  these  had  joined  the  party 
in  the  preceding  autumn,  having  been  hunting  for 
two  years  on  the  Missouri  ;  the  other  had  engaged 
at  St.  Louis,  in  the  following  March,  and  had 
come  up  from  thence  with  Mr.  Hunt.  He  now 
declared  that  he  had  enlisted  merely  for  the  pur- 
pose of  following  his  brother,  and  persuading  him 
to  return  ;  having  been  enjoined  to  do  so  by  his 
mother,  whose  anxiety  had  been  awakened  by 
the  idea  of  his  going  on  such  a  wild  and  distant 
expedition. 

The  loss  of  two  stark  hunters  and  prime  rifle- 
men was  a  serious  affair  to  the  party,  for  they  were 
approaching  the  region  where  they  might  expect 
hostilities  from  the  Sioux  ;  indeed,  throughout  the 
whole  of  their  perilous  journey,  the  services  of 
such  men  would  be  all  important,  for  little  re- 
liance was  to  be  placed  upon  the  valor  of  the 
Canadians  in  case  of  attack.  Mr.  Hunt  endeav- 
ored by  arguments,  expostulations,  and  entreaties, 
to  shake  the  determination  of  the  two  brothers. 
He  represented  to  them  that  they  were  between 
six  and  seven  hundred  miles  above  the  mouth  of 
the  Missouri  ;  that  they  would  have  four  hundred 
miles  to  go  before  they  could  reach  the  habita- 
tion of  a  white  man,  throughout  which  they  would 
be  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  risks  ;  since  he  declared, 
if  they  persisted  in  abandoning  him  and  breaking 
their  faith,  he  would  not  furnish  them  with  a  sin- 
gle round  of  ammunition.  All  was  in  vain  ;  they 
obstinately  persisted  in  their  resolution  ;  where- 
upon Mr.  Hunt,  partly  incited  by  indignation, 
partly  by  the  policy  of  deterring  others  from  de- 
sertion, put  his  threat  in  execution,  and  left  them 
to  find  their  way  back  to  the  settlements  without, 
as  he  supposed,  a  single  bullet  or  charge  of  pow- 
der. 

The  boats  now  continued  their  slow  and  toil- 
some course  for  several  days,  against  the  current 
of  the  river.  The  late  signs  of  roaming  war  par- 
ties caused  a  vigilant  watch  to  be  kept  up  at  night 
when  the  crews  encamped  on  shore  ;  nor  was  this 
vigilance  superfluous  ;  for  on  the  night  of  the  sev- 
enth instant  there  war,  a  wild  and  fearful  yell,  and 
eleven  Sioux  warriors,  stark  naked,  with  toma- 
hawks in  their  hands,  rushed  into  the  camp.  They 
were  instantly  surrounded  and  seized,  whereupon 
their  leader  called  out  to  his  followers  to  desist 
from  any  violence,  and  pretended  to  be  perfectly 
pacific  in  his  intentions.  It  proved,  however,  that 
they  were  a  part  of  the  war  party,  the  skeleton  of 
whose  canoe  had  been  seen  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river  Platte,  and  the  reflection  of  whose  fires  had 
been  descried  in  the  air.  They  had  been  disap- 
pointed or  defeated  in  their  foray,  and  in  their 
rage  and  mortification  these  eleven  warriors  had 
"  devoted  their  clothes  to  the  medicine."  This  is 
a  desperate  act  of  Indian  braves  when  foiled  in 
war,  and  in  dread  of  scoffs  and  sneers.  In  such 
case  they  sometimes  throw  off  their  clothes  and 
ornaments,  devote  themselves  to  the  Great  Spirit, 
and  attempt  some  reckless  exploit  with  which  to 
cover  their  disgrace.  Woe^  to  any  defenceless 
party  of  white  men  that  may  then  fall  in  their 
way  ! 

Such  was  the  explanation  given  by  Pierre  Dori- 
on,  the  half-breed  interpreter,  of  this  wild  intru< 
sion  into  the  camp  ;  and  the  party  were  so  exas. 
perated  when  apprised  of  the  sanguinary  inten- 
tions of  the  prisoners,  that  they  were  for  shooting 
them  on  the  spot.  Mr.  Hunt,  however,  exerted 
his  usual  moderation  and  humanity,  and  ordered 
that  they  should  be  conveyed  across  the  river  in 
one  of  the  boats,  threatening  them,  however, 


ASTORIA. 


341 


with  certain  death,  if  again  caught  in  any  hostile 
act. 

On  the  loth  of  May  the  party  arrived  at  the 
Omaha  (pronounced  Omawhaw)  village,  about 
eight  hundred  and  thirty  miles  above  the  mouth 
of  the  Missouri,  and  encamped  in  its  neighbor- 
hood. The  village  was  situated  under  a  hill  on 
the  bank  of  the  river,  and  consisted  of  about  eighty 
lodges.  These  were  of  a  circular  and  conical 
form,  and  about  sixteen  feet  in  diameter  ;  being 
mere  tents  of  dressed  buffalo  skins,  sewed  to- 
gether and  stretched  on  long  poles,  inclined  to- 
ward each  other  so  as  to  cross  at  about  half  their 
height.  Thus  the  naked  tops  of  the  poles  diverge 
in  such  a  manner  that,  if  they  were  covered  with 
skins  like  the  lower  ends,  the  tent  would  be 
shaped  like  an  hour-glass,  and  present  the  appear- 
ance of  one  cone  inverted  on  the  apex  of  another. 

The  forms  of  Indian  lodges  are  worthy  of  atten- 
tion, each  tribe  having  a  different  mode  of  shap- 
ing and  arranging  them,  so  that  it  is  easy  to  tell, 
on  seeing  a  lodge  or  an  encampment  at  a  dis- 
tance, to  what  tribe  the  inhabitants  belong.  The 
exterior  of  the  Omaha  lodges  have  often  a  gay 
and  fanciful  appearance,  being  painted  with  un- 
dulating bands  of  red  or  yellow,  or  decorated 
with  rude  figures  of  horses,  deer,  and  buffaloes, 
and  with  human  faces,  painted  like  full  moons, 
four  and  five  feet  broad. 

The  Omahas  were  once  one  of  the  numerous 
and  powerful  tribes  of  the  prairies,  vying  in  war- 
like might  and  prowess  with  the  Sioux,  the  Paw- 
nees, the  Sauks,  the  Konzas,  and  the  latans. 
Their  wars  with  the  Sioux,  however,  had  thinned 
their  ranks,  and  the  small-pox  in  1802  had  swept 
off  two  thirds  of  their  number.  At  the  time  of 
Mr.  Hunt's  visit  they  still  boasted  about  two  hun- 
dred warriors  and  hunters,  but  they  are  now  fast 
melting  away,  and  before  long  will  be  numbered 
among  those  extinguished  nations  of  the  west  that 
exist  but  in  tradition. 

In  his  correspondence  with  Mr.  Astor,  from  this 
point  of  his  journey,  Mr.  Hunt  gives  a  sad  ac- 
count of  the  Indian  tribes  bordering  on  the  river. 
They  were  in  continual  war  with  each  other,  and 
their  wars  were  of  the  most  harassing  kind  ;  con- 
sisting, not  merely  of  main  conflicts  and  expedi- 
tions of  moment,  involving  the  sackings,  burnings 
and  massacres  of  towns  and  villages,  but  of  indi- 
vidual acts  of  treachery,  murder,  and  cold-blood- 
ed cruelty  ;  or  of  vaunting  and  foolhardy  exploits 
of  single \varriors,  either  to  avenge  some  personal 
wrong,  or  gain  the  vainglorious  trophy  of  a  scalp. 
The  lonely  hunter,  the  wandering  wayfarer,  the 
poor  squaw  cutting  wood  or  gathering  corn,  was 
liable  to  be  surprised  and  slaughtered.  In  this 
way  tribes  were  either  swept  away  at  once,  or 
gradually  thinned  out,  and  savage  life  was  sur- 
rounded with  constant  horrors  and  alarms.  That 
the  race  of  red  men  should  diminish  from  year  to 
year,  and  so  few  should  survive  of  the  numerous 
nations  which  evidently  once  peopled  the  vast  re- 
gions of  the  west,  is  nothing  surprising  ;  it  is 
rather  matter  of  surprise  that  so  many  should  sur- 
vive ;  for  the  existence  of  a  savage  in  these  parts 
seems  little  better  than  a  prolonged  and  all-beset- 
ting death.  It  is,  in  fact,  a  caricature  of  the 
boasted  romance  of  feudal  times  ;  chivalry  in  its 
native  and  uncultured  state,  and  knight-errantry 
run  wild. 

In  their  more  prosperous  days,  the  Omahas 
looked  upon  themselves  as  the  most  powerful  and 
perfect  of  human  beings,  and  considered  all  cre- 
ated things  as  made  for  their  peculiar  use  and 
.  benefit.  It  is  this  tribe  of  whose  chief,  the  fa- 


mous Wash-ing-guh-sah-ba,  or  Blackbird,  such 
savage  and  romantic  stories  are  told.  He  had 
died  about  ten  years  previous  to  the  arrival  of 
Mr.  Hunt's  party,  but  his  name  was  still  men- 
tioned with  awe  by  his  people.  He  was  one  of 
the  first  among  the  Indian  chiefs  on  the  Missouri 
to  deal  with  the  white  traders,  and  showed  great 
sagacity  in  levying  his  royal  dues.  When  a  trader 
arrived  in  his  village,  he  caused  all  his  goods  to 
be  brought  into  his  lodge  and  opened.  From 
these  he  selected  whatever  suited  his  sovereign 
pleasure — blankets,  tobacco,  whiskey,  powder, 
ball,  beads,  and  red  paint — and  laid  the  articles 
on  one  side,  without  deigning  to  give  any  com- 
pensation. Then  calling  to  him  his  herald  or 
crier,  he  would  order  him  to  mount  on  top  of  the 
lodge  and  summon  all  the  tribe  to  bring  in  their 
peltries,  and  trade  with  the  white  man.  The 
lodge  would  soon  be  crowded  with  Indians  bring- 
ing bear,  beaver,  otter,  and  other  skins.  No  one 
was  allowed  to  dispute  the  prices  fixed  by  the 
white  trader  upon  his  articles,  who  took  care  to 
indemnify  himself  five  times  over  for  the  goods 
set  apart  by  the  chief.  In  this  way  the  Black- 
bird enriched  himself,  and  enriched  the  white 
men,  and  became  exceedingly  popular  among  the 
traders  of  the  Missouri.  His  people,  however, 
were  not  equally  satisfied  by  a  regulation  of  trade 
which  worked  so  manifestly  against  them,  and 
began  to  show  signs  of  discontent.  Upon  this  a 
crafty  and  unprincipled  trader  revealed  a  secret 
to  the  Blackbird,  by  which  he  might  acquire  un- 
bounded sway  over  his  ignorant  and  superstitious 
subjects.  He  instructed  him  in  the  poisonous 
qualities  of  arsenic,  and  furnished  him  with  an 
ample  supply  of  that  baneful  drug.  From  this 
time  the  Blackbird  seemed  endowed  with  super- 
natural powers,  to  possess  the  gift  of  prophecy, 
and  to  hold  the  disposal  of  life  and  death  within 
his  hands.  Woe  to  any  one  who  questioned  his 
authority  or  dared  to  dispute  his  commands  ! 
The  Blackbird  prophesied  his  death  within  a  cer- 
tain time,  and  he  had  the  secret  means  of  verify- 
ing his  prophecy.  Within  the  fated  period  the 
offender  was  smitten  with  strange  and  sudden 
disease,  and  perished  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 
Every  one  stood  aghast  at  these  multiplied  exam- 
ples of  his  superhuman  might,  and  dreaded  to  dis- 
please so  omnipotent  and  vindictive  a  being  ;  and 
the  Blackbird  enjoyed  a  wide  and  undisputed 
sway. 

It  was  not,  however,  by  terror  alone  that  he 
ruled  his  people  ;  he  was  a  warrior  of  the  first  or- 
der, and  his  exploits  in  arms  were  the  theme  of 
young  and  old.  His  career  had  begun  by  hard- 
ships, having  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Sioux, 
in  early  youth.  Under  his  command  the  Oma- 
has obtained  great  character  for  military  prowess, 
nor  did  he  permit  an  insult  or  injury  to  one  of  his 
tribe  to  pass  unrevenged.  The  Pawnee  republi- 
cans had  inflicted  a  gross  indignity  on  a  favorite 
and  distinguished  Omaha  brave.  The  Blackbird 
assembled  his  warriors,  led  them  against  the 
Pawnee  town,  attacked  it  with  irresistible  fury, 
slaughtered  a  great  number  of  its  inhabitants, 
and  burnt  it  to  the  ground.  He  waged  fierce  and 
bloody  war  against  the  Ottoes  for  many  years, 
until  peace  was  effected  between  them  by  the  me- 
"cliation  of  the  whites.  Fearless  in  battle,  and  fond 
of  signalizing  himself,  he  dazzled  his  followers  by 
daring  acts.  In  attacking  a  Kanza  village,  h« 
rode  singly  round  it,  loading  and  discharging  hij 
rifle  at  the  inhabitants  as  he  galloped  past  them. 
He  kept  up  in  war  the  same  idea  of  mysterious 
and  supernatural  power.  At  one  time,  when  pur» 


342 


ASTORIA. 


suing  a  war  party  by  their  tracks  across  the 
prairies,  he  repeatedly  discharged  his  rifle  into  the 
prints  made  by  their  feet  and  by  the  hoofs  of  their 
horses,  assuring  his  followers  that  he  would 
thereby  cripple  the  fugitives,  so  that  they  would 
easily  be  overtaken.  He  in  tact  did  overtake 
them,  and  destroyed  them  almost  to  a  man  ;  and 
his  victory  was  considered  miraculous,  both  by 
friend  and  foe.  By  these  and  similar  exploits, 
he  made  himself  the  pride  and  boast  of  his  peo- 
ple, and  became  popular  among  them,  notwith- 
standing his  death-denouncing  fiat. 

With  all  his  savage  and  terrific  qualities,  he 
was  sensible  of  the  power  of  female  beauty,  and 
capable  of  love.  A  war  party  of  the  Poncas  had 
made  a  foray  into  the  lands  of  the  Omahas,  and 
carried  off  a  number  of  women  and  horses.  The 
Blackbird  was  roused  to  fury,  and  took  the  field 
with  all  his  braves,  swearing  to  "  eat  up  the  Ponca 
nation" — the  Indian  threat  of  exterminating  war. 
The  Poncas,  sorely  pressed,  took  refuge  behind 
a  rude  bulwark  of  earth  ;  but  the  Blackbird  kept 
up  so  galling  a  fire  that  he  seemed  likely  to  exe- 
cute his  menace.  In  their  extremity  they  sent 
forth  a  herald,  bearing  the  calumet  or  pipe  of 
peace,  but  he  was  shot  down  by  order  of  the  Black- 
bird. Another  herald  was  sent  forth  in  similar 
guise,  but  he  shared  a  like  fate.  The  Ponca  chief 
then,  as  a  last  hope,  arrayed  his  beautiful  daugh- 
ter in  her  finest  ornaments,  and  sent  her  forth 
with  a  calumet,  to  sue  for  peace.  The  charms  of 
the  Indian  maid  touched  the  stern  heart  of  the 
Blackbird  ;  he  accepted  the  pipe  at  her  hand, 
smoked  it,  and  from  that  time  a  peace  took  place 
between  the  Poncas  and  the  Omahas. 

This  beautiful  damsel,  in  all  probability,  was 
the  favorite  wife  whose  fate  makes  so  tragic  an 
incident  in  the  story  of  the  Blackbird.  Her  youth 
and  beauty  had  gained  an  absolute  sway  over  his 
rugged  heart,  so  that  he  distinguished  her  above 
all  his  other  wives.  The  habitual  gratification  of 
his  vindictive  impulses,  however,  had  taken  away 
from  him  all  mastery  over  his  passions,  and  ren- 
dered him  liable  to  the  most  furious  transports  of 
rage.  In  one  of  these  his  beautiful  wife  had  the 
misfortune  to  offend  him,  when  suddenly  drawing 
his  knife,  he  laid  her  dead  at  his  feet  with  a  single 
blow. 

In  an  instant  his  frenzy  was  at  an  end.  He 
gazed  for  a  time  in  mute  bewilderment  upon  his 
victim  ;  then  drawing  his  buffalo  robe  over  his 
head,  he  sat  down  beside  the  corpse,  and  remain- 
ed brooding  over  his  crime  and  his  loss.  Three 
days  elapsed,  yet  the  chief  continued  silent  and 
motionless  ;  tasting  no  food,  and  apparently 
sleepless.  It  was  apprehended  that  he  intended 
to  starve  himself  to  death  ;  his  people  approached 
him  in  trembling  awe,  and  entreated  him  once 
more  to  uncover  his  face  and  be  comforted  ;  but 
he  remained  unmoved.  At  length  one  of  his 
warriors  brought  in  a  small  child,  and  laying  it  on 
the  ground,  placed  the  foot  of  the  Blackbird  upon 
its  neck.  The  heart  of  the  gloomy  savage  was 
touched  by  this  appeal  ;  he  threw  aside  his  robe  ; 
made  an  harangue  upon  what  he  had  done  ;  and 
from  that  time  forward  seemed  to  have  thrown  the 
load  of  grief  and  remorse  from  his  mind. 

He  still  retained  his  fatal  and  mysterious  se- 
cret, and  with  it  his  terrific  power  ;  but,  though 
able  to  deal  death  to  his  enemies,  he  could  not 
avert  it  from  himself  or  his  friends.  In  1802  the 
small-pox,  that  dreadful  pestilence  , which  swept 
over  the  land  like  a  fire  over  the  prairie,  made  its 
appearance  in  the  village  of  the  Omahas.  The 
poor  savages  saw  with  dismay  the  ravages  of  a 


malady,  loathsome  and  agonizing  in  its  details, 
and  which  set  the  skill  and  experience  of  their  con- 
jurors and  medicine  men  at  defiance.  In  a  little 
while  two  thirds  of  the  population  were  swept 
from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  the  doom  of  the 
rest  seemed  sealed.  The  stoicism  of  the  warriors 
was  at  an  end  ;  they  became  wild  and  desperate  ; 
some  set  fire  to  the  village  as  a  last  means  of 
checking  the  pestilence  ;  others,  in  a  frenzy  of 
despair  put  their  wives  and  children  to  death, 
that  they  might  be  spared  the  agonies  of  an  inev- 
itable disease,  and  that  they  might  all  go  to  some 
better  country. 

When  the  general  horror  and  dismay  was  at  its 
height,  the  Blackbird  himself  was  struck  down 
with  the  malady.  The  poor  savages,  when  they 
saw  their  chief  in  danger,  forgot  their  own  mis- 
eries, and  surrounded  his  dying  bed.  His  domi- 
nant spirit,  and  his  love  for  the  white  men,  were 
evinced  in  his  latest  breath,  with  which  he  desig- 
nated his  place  of  sepulture.  It  was  to  be  on  a 
hill  or  promontory,  upward  of  four  hundred  feet 
in  height,  overlooking  a  great  extent  of  the  Mis- 
souri, from  whence  he  had  been  accustomed  to 
watch  for  the  barks  of  the  white  men.  The  Mis- 
souri washes  the  base  of  the  promontory,  and 
after  winding  and  doubling  in  many  links  and 
mazes  in  the  plain  below,  returns  to  within  nine 
hundred  yards  of  its  starting-place  ;  so  that  for 
thirty  miles  navigating  with  sail  and  oar,  the  voy- 
ager finds  himself  continually  near  to  this  singu- 
lar promontory  as  if  spell-bound. 

It  was  the  dying  command  of  the  Blackbird 
that  his  tomb  should  be  upon  the  summit  of  this 
hill,  in  which  he  should  be  interred,  seated  on 
his  favorite  horse,  that  he  might  overlook  his  an- 
cient domain,  and  behold  the  barks  of  the  white 
men  as  they  came  up  the  river  to  trade  with  his 
people. 

His  dying  orders  were  faithfully  obeyed.  His 
corpse  was  placed  astride  of  his  war-steed,  and  a 
mound  raised  over  them  on  the  summit  of  the 
hill.  On  top  of  the  mound  was  erected  a  staff, 
from  which  fluttered  the  banner  ot  the  chieftain, 
and  the  scalps  that  he  had  taken  in  battle.  When 
the  expedition  under  Mr.  Hunt  visited  that  part 
of  the  country,  the  staff  still  remained  with  the 
fragments  of  the  banner  ;  and  the  superstitious 
rite  of  placing  food  from  time  to  time  on  the 
mound,  for  the  use  of  the  deceased,  was  still  ob- 
served by  the  Omahas.  That  rite  has  since  fallen 
into  disuse,  for  the  tribe  itself  is  almost  extinct. 
Yet  the  hill  of  the  Blackbird  continues  an  object 
of  veneration  to  the  wandering  savage,  and  a 
landmark  to  the  voyager  of  the  Missouri  ;  and  as 
the  civilized  traveller  comes  within  sight  of  its 
spell-bound  crest,  the  mound  is  pointed  out  to  him 
from  afar,  which  still  incloses  the  grim  skeletons 
of  the  Indian  warrior  and  his  horse. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

WHILE  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party  were  sojourn- 
ing at  the  village  of  the  Omahas,  three  Sioux  In- 
dians of  the  Yankton  Ahna  tribe  arrived,  bring- 
ing unpleasant  intelligence.  They  reported  that 
certain  bands  of  the  Sioux  Tetons,  who  inhabited 
a  region  many  leagues  further  up  the  Missouri, 
were  near  at  hand,  awaiting  the  approach  of  the 
party,  with  the  avowed  intention  of  opposing  their 
progress. 

The  Sioux  Tetons  were  at  that  time  a  sort  of 
pirates  of  the  Missouri,  who  considered  the  well- 
freighted  bark  of  the  American  trader  fair  game. 


ASTORIA. 


343 


They  had  their  own  traffic  with  the  British  mer- 
chants of  the  northwest,  who  brought  them  regu- 
lar supplies  of  merchandise  by  way  of  the  river 
St.  Peter.  Being  thus  independent  of  the  Mis- 
souri traders  for  their  supplies,  they  kept  no 
terms  with  them,  but  plundered  them  whenever 
they  had  an  opportunity.  It  has  been  insinuated 
that  they  were  prompted  to  these  outrages  by  the 
British  merchants,  who  wished  to  keep  off  all  rivals 
in  the  Indian  trade  ;  but  others  allege  another 
motive,  and  one  savoring  of  a  deeper  policy.  The 
Sioux,  by  their  intercourse  with  the  British  traders, 
had  acquired  the  use  of  firearms,  which  had 
given  them  vast  superiority  over  other  tribes 
higher  up  the  Missouri.  They  had  made  them- 
selves also,  in  a  manner,  factors  for  the  upper 
tribes,  supplying  them  at  second  hand,  and  at 
greatly  advanced  prices,  with  goods  derived  from 
the  white  men.  The  Sioux,  therefore,  saw  with 
jealousy  the  American  traders  pushing  their  way 
up  the  Missouri  ;  foreseeing  that  the  upper  tribes 
would  thus  be  relieved  from  all  dependence  on 
them  for  supplies  ;  nay,  what  was  worse,  would 
be  furnished  with  firearms,  and  elevated  into  for- 
midable rivals. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  a  case  in  which  Mr. 
Crooks  and  Mr.  M'Lellan  had  been  interrupted 
in  a  trading  voyage  by  these  ruffians  of  the  river, 
and,  as  it  is  in  some  degree  connected  with  cir- 
cumstances hereafter  to  be  related,  we  shall 
specify  it  more  particularly. 

About  two  years  before  the  time  of  which  we 
are  treating,  Crooks  and  M'Lellan  were  ascend- 
ing the  river  in  boats  with  a  party  of  about  forty 
men,  bound  on  one  of  their  trading  expeditions 
to  the  upper  tribes.  In  one  of  the  bends  of  the 
river,  where  the  channel  made  a  deep  curve  under 
impending  banks,  they  suddenly  heard  yells  and 
shouts  above  them,  and  beheld  the  cliffs  overhead 
covered  with  armed  savages.  It  was  a  band  of 
Sioux  warriors,  upward  of  six  hundred  strong. 
They  brandished  their  weapons  in  a  menacing 
manner,  and  ordered  the  boats  to  turn  back  and 
land  lower  down  the  river.  There  was  no  disput- 
ing these  commands,  for  they  had  the  power  to 
shower  destruction  upon  the  white  men,  without 
risk  to  themselves.  Crooks  and  M'Lellan,  there- 
fore, turned  back  with  feigned  alacrity  ;  and, 
landing,  had  an  interview  with  the  Sioux.  The 
latter  forbade  them,  under  pain  of  exterminating 
hostility,  from  attempting  to  proceed  up  the  river, 
but  offered  to  trade  peacefully  with  them  if  they 
would  halt  where  they  were.  The  party,  being  prin- 
cipally composed  of  voyageurs,  was  too  weak  to 
contend  with  so  superior  a  force,  and  one  so  easily 
augmented  ;  they  pretended,  therefore,  to  comply 
cheerfully  with  their  arbitrary  dictation,  and  im- 
mediately proceeded  to  cut  down  trees  and  erect 
a  trading  house.  The  warrior  band  departed  for 
their  village,  which  was  about  twenty  miles  dis- 
tant, to  collect  objects  of  traffic  ;  they  left  six  or 
eight  of  their  number,  however,  to  keep  watch 
upon  the  white  men,  and  scouts  were  continually 
passing  to  and  fro  with  intelligence. 

Mr.  Crooks  saw  that  it  would  be  impossible  to 
prosecute  his  voyage  without  the  danger  of  hav- 
ing his  boats  plundered,  and  a  great  part  of  his 
men  massacred  ;  he  determined,  however,  not  to 
be  entirely  frustrated  in  the  objects  of  his  expedi- 
tion. While  he  continued,  therefore,  with  great 
apparent  earnestness  and  assiduity,  the  construc- 
tion of  the  trading  house,  he  dispatched  the 
hunters  and  trappers  of  his  party  in  a  canoe,  to 
make  their  way  up  the  river  to  the  original  place 
of  destination,  there  to  busy  themselves  in  trap- 


ping and  collecting  peltries,  and  to  await  his  ar- 
rival at  some  future  period. 

As  soon  as  the  detachment  had  had  sufficient 
time  to  ascend  beyond  the  hostile  country  of  the 
Sioux,  Mr.  Crooks  suddenly  broke  up  his  feigned 
trading  establishment,  embarked  his  men  and 
effects,  and,  after  giving  the  astonished  rear- 
guard of  savages  a  galling  and  indignant  mes- 
sage to  take  their  countrymen,  pushed  down  the 
river  with  all  speed,  sparing  neither  oar  nor  pad- 
dle, day  nor  night,  until  fairly  beyond  the  swoop 
of  these  river  hawks. 

What  increased  the  irritation  of  Messrs.  Crooks 
and  M'Lellan  at  this  mortifying  check  to  their 
gainful  enterprise,  was  the  information  that  a  ri- 
val trader  was  at  the  bottom  of  it  ;  the  Sioux,  it 
is  said,  having  been  instigated  to  this  outrage  by 
Mr.  Manuel  Lisa,  the  leading  partner  and  agent 
of  the  Missouri  Fur  Company,  already  mentioned. 
This  intelligence,  whether  true  or  false,  so  roused 
the  fiery  temper  of  M'Lellan,  that  he  swore,  if 
ever  he  fell  in  with  Lisa  in  the  Indian  country,  he 
would  shoot  him  on  the  spot  ;  a  mode  of  redress 
perfectly  in  unison  with  the  character  of  the  man, 
and  the  code  of  honor  prevalent  beyond  the  fron- 
tier. 

If  Crooks  and  M'Lellan  had  been  exasperated 
by  the  insolent  conduct  of  the  Sioux  Tetons,  and 
the  loss  which  it  had  occasioned,  those  freebooters 
had  been  no  less  indignant  at  being  outwitted  by 
the  white  men,  and  disappointed  of  their  antici- 
pated gains,  and  it  was  apprehended  they  would 
be  particularly  hostile  against  the  present  expedi- 
tion, when  they  should  learn  that  these  gentlemen 
were  engaged  in  it. 

All  these  causes  of  uneasiness  were  concealed 
as  much  as  possible  from  the  Canadian  voyageurs, 
lest  they  should  become  intimidated  ;  it  was  im- 
possible, however,  to  prevent  the  rumors  brought 
by  the  Indians  from  leaking  out,  and  they  became 
subjects  of  gossiping  and  exaggeration.  The 
chief  of  the  Omahas,  too,  on  returning  from  a 
hunting  excursion,  reported  that  two  men  had 
been  killed  some  distance  above,  by  a  band  of 
Sioux.  This  added'  to  the  fears  that  already  be- 
gan to  be  excited.  The  voyageurs  pictured  to 
themselves  bands  of  fierce  warriors  stationed 
along  each  bank  of  the  river,  by  whom  they  would 
be  exposed  to  be  shot  down  in  their  boats  ;  or 
lurking  hordes,  who  would  set  on  them  at  night, 
and  massacre  them  in  their  encampments.  Some 
lost  heart,  and  proposed  to  return,  rather  than 
fight  their  way,  and,  in  a  manner,  run  the  gaunt- 
let through  the  country  of  these  piratical  maraud- 
ers. In  fact,  three  men  deserted  while  at  this  vil- 
lage. Luckily,  their  place  was  supplied  by  three 
others  who  happened  to  be  there,  and  who  were 
prevailed  on  to  join  the  expedition  by  promises  of 
liberal  pay,  and  by  being  fitted  out  and  equipped 
in  complete  style. 

The  irresolution  and  discontent  visible  among 
some  of  his  people,  arising  at  times  almost  to  mu- 
tiny, and  the  occasional  desertions  which  took 
place  while  thus  among  friendly  tribes,  and  within 
reach  of  the  frontiers,  added  greatly  to  the  anxi- 
eties of  Mr.  Hunt,  and  rendered  him  eager  to 
press  forward  and  leave  a  hostile  tract  behind 
him,  so  that  it  would  be  as  perilous  to  return  as 
to  keep  on,  and  no  one  would  dare  to  desert. 

Accordingly  on  the  I5th  of  May  he  departed 
from  the  village  of  the  Omahas,  and  set  forward 
toward  the  country  of  the  formidable  Sioux  Te- 
tons. For  the  first  five  days  they  had  a  fair  and 
fresh  breeze,  and  the  boats  made  good  progress. 
The  wind  then  came  ahead,  and  the  river  begin- 


344 


ASTORIA. 


riing  to  rise,  and  to  increase  in  rapidity,  betoken- 
ed the  commencement  of  the  annual  flood,  caused 
by  the  melting  of  the  snow  on  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  the  vernal  rains  of  the  upper  prairies. 

As  they  were  now  entering  a  region  where  foes 
might  be  lying  in  wait  on  either  bank,  it  was  de- 
termined, in  hunting  for  game,  to  confine  them- 
selves principally  to  the  islands,  which  sometimes 
extend  to  considerable  length,  and  are  beautifully 
wooded,  affording  abundant  pasturage  and 
shade.  On  one  of  these  they  killed  three  buffa- 
loes and  two  elks,  and,  halting  on  the  edge  of  a 
beautiful  prairie,  made  a  sumptuous  hunter's  re- 
past. They  had  not  long  resumed  their  boats  and 
pulled  along  the  river  banks,  when  they  descried 
a  canoe  approaching,  navigated  by  two  men, 
whom,  to  their  surprise,  they  ascertained  to  be 
white  men.  They  proved  to  be  two  of  those 
strange  and  fearless  wanderers  of  the  wilderness, 
the  trappers.  Their  names  were  Benjamin  Jones 
and  Alexander  Carson.  They  had  been  for  two 
years  past  hunting  and  trapping  near  the  head  of 
the  Missouri,  and  were  thus  floating  for  thou- 
sands of  miles  in  a  cockle-shell  down  a  turbulent 
stream,  through  regions  infested  by  savage  tribes, 
yet  apparently  as  easy  and  unconcerned  as  if  nav- 
igating securely  in  the  midst  of  civilization. 

The  acquisition  of  two  such  hardy,  experienced, 
and  dauntless  hunters  was  peculiarly  desirable 
at  the  present  moment.  They  needed  but  little 
persuasion.  The  wilderness  is  the  home  of  the 
trapper  ;  like  the  sailor,  he  cares  but  little  to 
which  point  of  the  compass  he  steers  ;  and  Jones 
and  Carson  readily  abandoned  their  voyage  to  St. 
Louis  and  turned  their  faces  toward  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  the  Pacific. 

The  two  naturalists,  Mr.  Bradbury  and  Mr. 
Nuttall,  who  had  joined  the  expedition  at  St. 
Louis  still  accompanied  it,  and  pursued  their  re- 
searches on  all  occasions.  Mr.  Nuttall  seems  to 
have  been  exclusively  devoted  to  his  scientific  pur- 
suits. He  was  a  zealous  botanist,  and  all  his  en- 
thusiasm was  awakened  at  beholding  a  new 
world,  as  it  were,  opening  upon  him  in  the  bound- 
less prairies,  clad  in  the  vernal  and  variegated 
robe  of  unknown  flowers.  Whenever  the  boats 
landed  at  meal  times,  or  for  any  temporary  pur- 
pose, he  would  spring  on  shore,  and  set  out  on  a 
hunt  for  new  specimens.  Every  plant  or  flower 
of  a  rare  or  unknown  species  was  eagerly  seized 
as  a  prize.  Delighted  with  the  treasures  spread- 
ing themselves  out  before  him,  he  went  groping 
and  stumbling  along  among  a  wilderness  of 
sweets,  forgetful  of  everything  but  his  immediate 
pursuit,  and  had  often  to  besought  after  when  the 
noats  were  about  to  resume  their  course.  At 
such  times  he  would  be  found  far  off  in  the  prairies, 
or  up  the  course  of  some  petty  stream,  laden  with 
plants  of  all  kinds. 

The  Canadian  voyageurs  who  are  a  class  of  peo- 
ple that  know  nothing  out  of  their  immediate  line, 
and  with  constitutional  levity  make  a  jest  of  any- 
thing they  cannot  understand,  were  extremely 
puzzled  by  this  passion  for  collecting  what  they 
considered  mere  useless  weeds.  When  they  saw 
the  worthy  botanist  coming  back  heavy  laden  with 
his  specimens,  and  treasuring  them  up  as  care- 
fully as  a  miser  would  his  hoard,  they  used  to 
make  merry  among  themselves  at  his  expense, 
regarding  him  as  some  whimsical  kind  of  mad- 
man. 

Mr.  Bradbury  was  less  exclusive  in  his  tastes 
and  habits,  and  combined  the  hunter  and  sports- 
man with  the  naturalist.  He  took  his  rifle  or  his 
lowling-piecewith  him  in  his  geological  researches, 


conformed  to  the  hardy  and  rugged  habits  of  the 
men  around  him,  and  of  course  gained  favor  in 
their  eyes.  He  had  a  strong  relish  for  incident 
and  adventure,  was  curious  in  observing  savage 
manners  and  savage  life,  and  ready  to  join  any 
hunting  or  other  excursion.  Even  now,  that  the 
expedition  was  proceeding  through  a  dangerous 
neighborhood,  he  could  not  check  his  propensity 
to  ramble.  Having  observed,  on  the  evening  of 
the  22d  of  May,  that  the  river  ahead  made  a  great 
bend  which  would  take  up  the  navigation  of  the 
following  day,  he  determined  to  profit  by  the  cir- 
cumstance. On  the  morning  of  the  23d,  there- 
fore, instead  of  embarking,  he  filled  his  shot- 
pouch  with  parched  corn,  for  provisions,  and  set 
off  to  cross  the  neck  on  foot  and  meet  the  boats 
in  the  afternoon  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  bend. 
Mr.  Hunt  felt  uneasy  at  his  venturing  thus  alone, 
and  reminded  him  that  he  was  in  an  enemy's 
country  ;  but  Mr.  Bradbury  made  light  of  the 
danger,  and  started  off  cheerily  upon  his  ramble. 
His  day  was  passed  pleasantly  in  traversing  a 
beautiful  tract,  making  botanical  and  geological 
researches,  and  observing  the  habits  of  an  exten- 
sive village  of  prairie  dogs,  at  which  he  made  sev- 
eral ineffectual  shots,  without  considering  the  risk 
he  run  of  attracting  the  attention  of  any  savages 
that  might  be  lurking  in  the  neighborhood.  In 
fact  he  had  totally  forgotten  the  Sioux  Tetons, 
and  all  the  other  perils  of  the  country,  when,  about 
the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  as  he  stood  near  the 
river  bank,  and  was  looking  out  for  the  boat,  he 
suddenly  felt  a  hand  laid  on  his  shoulder.  Start- 
ing and  turning  round,  he  beheld  a  naked  savage 
with  a  bow  bent,  and  the  arrow  pointed  at  his 
breast.  In  an  instant  his  gun  was  levelled  and 
his  hand  upon  the  lock.  The  Indian  drew  his 
bow  still  further,  but  forbore  to  launch  the  shaft. 
Mr.  Bradbury,  with  admirable  presence  of  mind, 
reflected  that  the  savage,  if  hostile  in  his  intents, 
would  have  shot  him  without  giving  him  a  chance 
of  defence  ;  he  paused,  therefore,  and  held  out  his 
hand.  The  other  took  it  in  sign  of  friendship, 
and  demanded  in  the  Osage  language  whether,  he 
was  a  Big  Knife,  or  American.  He  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  and  inquired  whether  the  other 
were  a  Sioux.  To  his  great  relief  he  found  that  he 
was  a  Ponca.  By  this  time  two  other  Indians 
came  running  up,  and  all  three  laid  hold  of  Mr. 
Bradbury  and  seemed  disposed  to  compel  him  to 
go  off  with  them  among  the  hills.  He  resisted,  and 
sitting  down  on  a  sand-hill,  contrived  to  amuse 
them  with  a  pocket  compass.  When  the  novelty 
of  this  was  exhausted,  they  again  seized  him,  but 
he  now  produced  a  small  microscope.  This  new 
wonder  again  fixed  the  attention  of  the  savages, 
who  have  far  more  curiosity  than  it  has  been  the 
custom  to  allow  them.  While  thus  engaged  one 
of  them  suddenly  leaped  up  and  gave  a  war- 
whoop.  The  hand  of  the  hardy  naturalist  was 
again  on  his  gun,  and  he  was  prepared  to  make 
battle,  when  the  Indian  pointed  down  the  river 
and  revealed  the  true  cause  of  his  yell.  It  was  the 
mast  of  one  of  the  boats  appearing  above  the  low 
willows  which  bordered  the  stream.  Mr.  Brad- 
bury felt  infinitely  relieved  by  the  sight.  The  In- 
dians on  their  part  now  showed  signs  of  appre- 
hension, and  were  disposed  to  run  away  ;  but  he 
assured  them  of  good  treatment  and  something  to 
drink  if  they  would  accompany  him  on  board  of  the 
boats.  They  lingered  for  a  time,  but  disappeared 
before  the  boats  came  to  land. 

On  the  following  morning  they  appeared  at  the 
camp  accompanied  by  several  of  their  tribe. 
With  them  came  also  a  white  man,  who  announced 


ASTORIA. 


345 


himself  as  a  messenger  bearing  missives  for  Mr. 
Hunt.  In  fact  he  brought  a  letter  from  Mr.  Man- 
uel Lisa,  partner  and  agent  of  the  Missouri  Fur 
Company.  As  has  already  been  mentioned,  this 
gentleman  was  going  in  search  of  Mr.  Henry  and 
his  party,  who  had  been  dislodged  from  the  forks 
of  the  Missouri  by  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  and 
had  shifted  his  post  somewhere  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Mr.  Lisa  had  left  St.  Louis  three 
weeks  after  Mr.  Hunt,  and  having  heard  of  the 
hostile  intentions  of  the  Sioux,  had  made  the 
greatest  exertions  to  overtake  him,  that  they 
might  pass  through  the  dangerous  part  of  the 
river  together.  He  had  twenty  stout  oarsmen  in 
his  service,  and  they  plied  their  oars  so  vigorously 
that  he  had  reached  the  Omaha  village  just  four 
days  after  the  departure  of  Mr.  Hunt.  From 
this  place  he  dispatched  the  messenger  in  ques- 
tion, trusting  to  his  overtaking  the  barges  as  they 
toiled  up  against  the  stream,  and  were  delayed 
by  the  windings  of  the  river.  The  purport  of  his 
letter  was  to  entreat  Mr.  Hunt  to  wait  until  he 
could  come  up  with  him,  that  they  might  unite 
their  forces  and  be  a  protection  to  each  other  in 
their  perilous  course  through  the  country  of  the 
Sioux.  In  fact,  as  it  was  afterward  ascertained, 
Lisa  was  apprehensive  that  Mr.  Hunt  would  do  him 
some  ill  office  with  the  Sioux  bands,  securing  his 
own  passage  through  their  country  by  pretending 
that  he  with  whom  they  were  accustomed  to 
trade  was  on  his  way  to  them  with  a  plentiful 
supply  of  goods.  He  feared,  too,  that  Crooks  and 
M'Lellan  would  take  this  opportunity  to  retort 
upon  him  the  perfidy  which  they  accused  him  of 
having  used,  two  years  previously,  among  these 
very  Sioux.  In  this  respect,  however,  h.e  did  them 
signal  injustice.  There  was  no  such  thing  as 
covert  design  or  treachery  in  their  thought  ;  but 
M'Lellan,  when  he  heard  that  Lisa  was  on  his 
way  up  the  river,  renewed  his  open  threat  of 
shooting  him  the  moment  he  met  him  on  Indian 
land. 

The  representations  made  by  Crooks  and  M'Lel- 
lan of  the  treachery  they  had  experienced,  or  fan- 
cied, on  the  part  of  Lisa,  had  great  weight  with 
Mr.  Hunt,  especially  when  he  recollected  the  ob- 
stacles that  had  been  thrown  in  his  own  way  by 
that  gentleman  at  St.  Louis.  He  doubted,  there- 
fore, the  fair  dealing  of  Lisa,  and  feared  that, 
should  they  enter  the  Sioux  country  together,  the 
latter  might  make  use  of  his  influence  with  that 
tribe,  as  he  had  in  the  case  of  Crooks  and  M'Lel- 
lan, and  instigate  them  to  oppose  his  progress  up 
the  river. 

He  sent  back,  therefore,  an  answer  calculated 
to  beguile  Lisa,  assuring  him  that  he  would  wait 
for  him  at  the  Poncas  village,  which  was  but  a  lit- 
tle distance  in  advance  ;  but  no  sooner  had  the 
messenger  departed,  than  he  pushed  forward  with 
all  diligence,  barely  stopping  at  the  village  to 
procure  a  supply  of  dried  buffalo  meat,  and  hast- 
ening to  leave  the  other  party  as  far  behind  as 
possible,  thinking  there  was  less  to  be  apprehend- 
ed from  the  open  hostility  of  Indian  foes  than 
from  the  quiet  strategy  of  an  Indian  trader. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

IT  was  about  noon  when  the  party  left  the  Pon- 
cas village,  about  a  league  beyond  which  they 
passed  the  mouth  of  the  Quicourt,  or  Rapid 
River  (called,  in  the  original  French,  I '  Eau  Qui 
Court).  After  having  proceeded  some  distance 
further,  they  landed,  and  encamped  for  the  night. 


In  the  evening  camp  the  voyageurs  gossiped,  as 
usual,  over  the  events  of  the  day,  and  especially 
over  intelligence  picked  up  among  the  Poncas. 
These  Indians  had  confirmed  the  previous  reports 
of  the  hostile  intentions  of  the  Sioux,  and  had  as- 
sured them  that  five  tribes,  or  bands,  of  that  fierce 
nation  were  actually  assembled  higher  up  the 
river,  and  waiting  to  cut  them  off.  This  evening 
gossip,  and  the  terrific  stories  of  Indian  warfare 
to  which  it  gave  rise,  produced  a  strong  effect 
upon  the  imaginations  of  the  irresolute,  and  in 
the  morning  it  was  discovered  that  the  two  men 
who  had  joined  the  party  at  the  Omaha  village, 
and  been  so  bounteously  fitted  out,  had  deserted 
in  the  course  of  the  night,  carrying  with  them  all 
their  equipments.  As  it  was  known  that  one  of 
them  could  not  swim,  it  was  hoped  that  the  banks 
of  the  Quicourt  River  would  bring  them  to  a 
halt.  A  general  pursuit  was  therefore  instituted, 
but  without  success. 

On  the  following  morning  (May  26th),  as  they 
were  all  on  shore,  breakfasting  on  one  of  the  beau- 
tiful banks  of  the  river,  they  observed  two  canoes 
descending  along  the  opposite  side.  By  the  aid 
of  spy-glasses  they  ascertained  that  there  were 
two  white  men  in  one  of  the  canoes,  and  one  in  the 
other.  A  gun  was  discharged,  which  called  the 
attention  of  the  voyagers,  who  crossed  over. 
They  proved  to  be  three  Kentucky  hunters,  of  the 
true  "  dreadnought"  stamp.  Their  names  were 
Edward  Robinson,  John  Hoback,  and  Jacob  Riz- 
ner.  Robinson  was  a  veteran  backwoodsman, 
sixty-six  years  of  age.  He  had  been  one  of  the 
first  settlers  of  Kentucky,  and  engaged  in  many 
of  the  conflicts  of  the  Indians  on  "  The  Bloody 
Ground."  In  one  of  these  battles  he  had  been 
scalped,  and  he  still  wore  a  handkerchief  bound 
round  his  head  to  protect  the  part.  These  men 
had  passed  several  years  in  the  upper  wilderness. 
They  had  been  in  the  service  of  the  Missouri  Com- 
pany under  Mr.  Henry,  and  had  crossed  the 
Rocky  Mountains  with  him  in  the  preceding  year, 
when  driven  from  his  post  on  the  Missouri  by  the 
hostilities  of  the  Blackfeet.  After  crossing  the 
mountains,  Mr.  Henry  had  established  himself 
on  one  of  the  head  branches  of  the  Columbia 
River.  There  they  had  remained  with  him  for 
some  months,  hunting  and  trapping,  until,  hav- 
ing satisfied  their  wandering  propensities,  they 
felt  disposed  to  return  to  the  families  and  comfort- 
able homes  which  they  had  left  in  Kentucky. 
They  had  accordingly  made  their  way  back 
across  the  mountains  and  down  the  rivers,  and 
were  in  full  career  for  St.  Louis,  when  thus  sud- 
denly interrupted.  The  sight  of  a  powerful  party 
of  traders,  trappers,  hunters,  and  voyageurs,  well 
armed  and  equipped, furnished  at  all  points, in  high 
health  and  spirits,  and  banqueting  lustily  on  the 
green  margin  of  the  river,  was  a  spectacle  equal- 
ly stimulating  to  these  veteran  backwoodsmen 
with  the  glorious  array  of  a  campaigning  army  to 
an  old  soldier  ;  but  when  they  learned  the  grand 
scope  and  extent  of  the  enterprise  in  hand,  it  was 
irresistible  :  homes  and  families  and  all  the 
charms  of  green  Kentucky  vanished  from  their 
thoughts  ;  they  cast  loose  their  canoes  to  drift 
down  the  stream,  and  joyfully  enlisted  in  the 
band  of  adventurers.  They  engaged  on  similar 
terms  with  some  of  the  other  hunters.  The  com- 
pany was  to  fit  them  out,  and  keep  them  supplied 
with  the  requisite  equipments  and  munitions,  and 
they  were  to  yield  one  half  of  the  produce  of  their 
hunting  and  trapping. 

The  addition  of  three  such  staunch  recruits  was 
extremely  acceptable  at  this  dangerous  part  of  the 


346 


ASTORIA. 


river.  The  knowledge  of  the  country  which  they 
had  acquired,  also,  in  their  journeys  and  hunting 
excursions  along  the  rivers  and  among  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  was  all  important  ;  in  fact,  the  infor- 
mation derived  from  them  induced  Mr.  Hunt  to 
alter  his  future  course.  He  had  hitherto  intended 
to  proceed  by  the  route  taken  by  Lewis  and  Clarke 
in  their  famous  exploring  expedition,  ascending 
the  Missouri  to  its  forks,  and  thence  going,  by 
land,  across  the  mountains.  These  men  informed 
him,  however,  that  on  taking  that  course  he  would 
have  to  pass  through  the  country  infested  by  the 
savage  tribe  of  the  Blackfeet,  and  would  be  ex- 
posed to  their  hostilities  ;  they  being,  as  has  al- 
ready been  observed,  exasperated  to  deadly  ani- 
mosity against  the  whites,  on  account  of  the  death 
of  one  of  their  tribe  by  the  hands  of  Captain 
Lewis.  They  advised  him  rather  to  pursue  a 
route  more  to  the  southward,  being  the  same  by 
which  they  had  returned.  This  would  carry  them 
over  the  mountains  about  where  the  head-waters 
of  the  Platte  and  the  Yellowstone  take  their  rise, 
at  a  place  much  more  easy  and  practicable  than 
that  where  Lewis  and  Clarke  had  crossed.  In  pur- 
suing this  course,  also,  he  would  pass  through  a 
country  abounding  with  game,  where  he  would 
have  a  better  chance  of  procuring  a  constant  sup- 
ply of  provisions  than  by  the  other  route,  and 
would  run  less  risk  of  molestation  from  the  Black- 
feet.  Should  he  adopt  this  advice,  it  would  be 
better  for  him  to  abandon  the  river  at  the  Aricara 
town,  at  which  he  would  arrive  in  the  course  of  a 
few  days.  As  the  Indians  at  that  town  possessed 
horses  in  abundance,  he  might  purchase  a  suffi- 
cient number  of  them  for  his  great  journey  over- 
land, which  would  commence  at  that  place. 

After  reflecting  on  this  advice,  and  consulting 
with  his  associates,  Mr.  Hunt  came  to  the  deter- 
mination to  follow  the  route  thus  pointed  out,  in 
which  the  hunters  engaged  to  pilot  him. 

The  party  continued  their  voyage  with  delight- 
ful May  weather.  The  prairies  bordering  on  the 
river  were  gayly  painted  with  innumerable  flow- 
ers, exhibiting  the  motley  confusion  of  colors  of 
a  Turkey  carpet.  The  beautiful  islands  also,  on 
which  they  occasionally  halted,  presented  the  ap- 
pearance of  mingled  grove  and  garden.  The 
trees  were  often  covered  with  clambering  grape- 
vines in  blossom,  which  perfumed  the  air.  Be- 
tween the  stately  masses  of  the  groves  were  grassy 
lawns  and  glades,  studded  with  flowers,  or  inter- 
spersed with  rose-bushes  in  full  bloom.  These 
islands  were  often  the  resort  of  the  buffalo,  the 
elk,  and  the  antelope,  who  had  made  innumerable 
paths  among  the  trees  and  thickets,  which  had 
the  effect  of  the  mazy  walks  and  alleys  of  parks 
and  shrubberies.  Sometimes,  where  the  river 
passed  between  high  banks  and  bluffs,  the  roads, 
made  by  the  tramp  of  buffaloes  for  many  ages 
along  the  face  of  the  heights,  looked  like  so  many 
well-travelled  highways.  At  other  places  the 
banks  were  banded  with  great  veins  of  iron  ore, 
laid  bare  by  the  abrasion  of  the  river.  At  one 
place  the  course  of  the  river  was  nearly  in  a 
straight  line  for  about  fifteen  miles.  The  banks 
sloped  gently  to  its  margin,  without  a  single  tree, 
but  bordered  with  grass  and  herbage  of  a  vivid 
green.  Along  each  bank,  for  the  whole  fifteen 
miles,  extended  a  stripe,  one  hundred  yards  in 
breadth,  of  a  deep  rusty  brown,  indicating  an  in- 
exhaustible bed  of  iron,  through  the  centre  of 
which  the  Missouri  had  worn  its  way.  Indica- 
tions of  the  continuance  of  this  bed  were  after- 
ward observed  higher  up  the  river.  It  is,  in  fact, 
one  of  the  mineral  magazines  which  nature  has 


provided  in  the  heart  of  this  vast  realm  of  fertility, 
and  which,  in  connection  with  the  immense  beds 
of  coal  on  the  same  river,  seem  garnered  up  as 
the  elements  of  the  future  wealth  and  power  of  the 
mighty  West. 

The  sight  of  these  mineral  treasures  greatly  ex- 
cited the  curiosity  of  Mr.  Bradbury,  and  it  was 
tantalizing  to  him  to  be  checked  in  his  scientific 
researches,  and  obliged  to  forego  his  usual  ram- 
bles on  shore  ;  but  they  were  now  entering  the 
fated  country  of  the  Sioux  Tetons,  in  which  it  was 
dangerous  to  wander  about  unguarded. 

This  country  extends  for  some  days'  journey 
along  the  river,  and  consists  of  vast  prairies,  here 
and  there  diversified  by  swelling  hills,  and  cut  up 
by  ravines,  the  channels  of  turbid  streams  in  the 
rainy  seasons,  but  almost  destitute  of  water  dur- 
ing the  heats  of  summer.  Here  and  there, on  the 
sides  of  the  hills,  or  along  the  alluvial  borders  and 
bottoms  of  the  ravines,  are  groves  and  skirts  of 
forest  ;  but  for  the  most  part  the  country  present- 
ed to  the  eye  a  boundless  waste,  covered  with 
herbage,  but  without  trees. 

The  soil  of  this  immense  region  is  strongly  im- 
pregnated with  sulphur,  copperas,  alum,  and 
glauber  salts  ;  its  various  earths  impart  a  deep 
tinge  to  the  streams  which  drain  it,  and  these, 
with  the  crumbling  of  the  banks  along  the  Mis- 
souri, give  to  the  waters  of  that  river  much  of 
the  coloring  matter  with  which  they  are  clouded. 

Over  this  vast  tract  the  roving  bands  of  the  Si- 
oux Tetons  hold  their  vagrant  sway,  subsisting 
by  the  chase  of  the  buffalo,  the  elk,  the  deer,  and 
the  antelope,  and  waging  ruthless  warfare  with 
other  wandering  tribes. 

As  the  boats  made  their  way  up  the  stream  bor- 
dered by  this  land  of  danger,  many  of  the  Cana- 
dian voyageurs,  whose  fears  had  been  awakened, 
would  regard  with  a  distrustful  eye  the  boundless 
waste  extending  on  each  side.  All,  however,  was 
silent,  and  apparently  untenanted  by  a  human  be- 
ing. Now  and  then  a  herd  of  deer  would  be  seen 
feeding  tranquilly  among  the  flowery  herbage,  or  a 
line  of  buffaloes,  like  a  caravan  on  its  march,  mov- 
ing across  the  distant  profile  of  the  prairie.  The  Ca- 
nadians, however,  began  to  apprehend  an  ambush 
in  every  thicket,  and  to  regard  the  broad,  tranquil 
plain  as  a  sailor  eyes  some  shallow  and  perfidious 
sea,  which,  though  smooth  and  safe  to  the  eye, 
conceals  the  lurking  rock  or  treacherous  shoal. 
The  very  name  of  a  Sioux  became  a  watchword  of 
terror.  Not  an  elk,  a  wolf,  or  any  other  animal, 
could  appear  on  the  hills,  but  the  boats  resounded 
with  exclamations  from  stern  to  stern,  "  Voila  Ics 
Sioux!"  "  Voila  Ics  Sioux!' '  (there  are  the  Sioux  ! 
there  are  the  Sioux  !).  Whenever  it  was  practica- 
ble, the  night  encampment  was  on  some  island  in 
the  centre  of  the  stream. 

On  the  morning  of  the  31  st  of  May,  as  the  travel- 
lers were  breakfasting  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
river,  the  usual  alarm  was  given,  but  with  more 
reason,  as  two  Indians  actually  made  their  ap- 
pearance on  a  bluff  on  the  opposite  or  northeast 
side,  and  harangued  them  in  a  loud  voice.  As  it 
was  impossible  at  that  distance  to  distinguish 
what  they  said,  Mr.  Hunt,  after  breakfast,  crossed 
the  river  with  Pierre  Dorion,  the  interpreter,  and 
advanced  boldly  to  converse  with  them,  while  the 
rest  remained  watching,  in  mute  suspense,  the 
movements  of  the  parties.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Hunt 
landed,  one  of  the  Indians  disappeared  behind  the 
hill,  but  shortly  reappeared  on  horseback,  and 
went  scouring  off  across  the  heights.  Mr.  Hunt 
held  some  conference  with  the  remaining  savage, 
and  then  recrossed  the  river  to  his  party. 


ASTORIA. 


347 


These  two  Indians  proved  to  be  spies  or  scouts 
of  a  large  war  party  encamped  about  a  league  off, 
and  numbering  two  hundred  and  eighty  lodges, 
or  about  six  hundred  warriors,  of  three  different 
tribes  of  Sioux  ;  the  Yangtons  Ahna,  the  Tetons 
Bois-brule,  and  the  Tetons  Min-na-kine-azzo. 
They  expected  daily  to  be  reinforced  by  two  other 
tribes,  and  had  been  waiting  eleven  days  for  the 
arrival  of  Mr.  Hunt's  party,  with  a  determination 
to  oppose  their  progress  up  the  river  ;  being  re- 
solved to  prevent  all  trade  of  the  white  men  with 
their  enemies  the  Arickaras,  Mandans,  and  Mina- 
tarees.  The  Indian  who  had  galloped  off  on 
horseback  had  gone  to  give  notice  of  the  approach 
of  the  party,  so  that  they  might  now  look  out  for 
some  fierce  scenes  with  those  piratical  savages,  of 
whom  they  had  received  so  many  formidable  ac- 
counts. 

The  party  braced  up  their  spirits  to  the  en- 
counter, and  re-embarking,  pulled  resolutely  up 
the  stream.  An  island  for  some  time  intervened 
between  them  and  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  ; 
but  on  clearing  the  upper  end,  they  carne  in  full 
view  of  the  hostile  shore.  There  was  a  ridge  of 
hills,  down  which  the  savages  were  pouring  in 
great  numbers,  some  on  horseback,  and  some  on 
foot.  Reconnoitering  them  with  the  aid  of 
glasses,  they  perceived  that  they  were  all  in  war- 
like array,  painted  and  decorated  for  battle.  Their 
weapons  were  bows  and  arrows,  and  a  few  short 
carbines,  and  most  of  them  had  round  shields. 
Altogether  they  had  a  wild  and  gallant  appear- 
ance, and,  taking  possession  of  a  point  which 
commanded  the  river,  ranged  themselves  along  the 
bank  as  if  prepared  to  dispute  their  passage. 

At  sight  of  this  formidable  front  of  war,  Mr. 
Hunt  and  his  companions  held  counsel  together. 
It  was  plain  that  the  rumors  they  had  heard  were 
correct,  and  the  Sioux  were  determined  to  oppose 
their  progress  by  force  of  arms.  To  attempt  to 
elude  them  and  continue  along  the  river  was  out 
of  the  question.  The  strength  of  the  mid-current 
was  too  violent  to  be  withstood,  and  the  boats 
were  obliged  to  ascend  along  the  river  banks. 
These  banks  were  often  high  and  perpendicular, 
affording  the  savages  frequent  stations,  from 
whence,  safe  themselves,  and  almost  unseen,  they 
might  shower  down  their  missiles  upon  the  boats 
below,  and  retreat  at  will,  without  danger  from 
pursuit.  Nothing  apparently  remained,  there- 
fore, but  to  fight  or  turn  back.  The  Sioux  far 
outnumbered  them,  it  is  true,  but  their  own  party 
was  about  sixty  strong,  well  armed  and  supplied 
with  ammunition  ;  and  besides  their  guns  and  ri- 
fles, they  had  a  swivel  and  two  howitzers  mounted 
in  the  boats.  Should  they  succeed  in  breaking 
this  Indian  force  by  one  vigorous  assault,  it  was 
likely  they  would  be  deterred  from  making  any 
future  attack  of  consequence.  The  fighting  alter- 
native was,  therefore,  instantly  adopted,  and  the 
boats  pulled  to  shore  nearly  opposite  to  the  hos- 
tile force.  Here  the  arms  were  all  examined  and 
put  in  order.  The  swivel  and  howitzers  were  then 
loaded  with  powder  and  discharged,  to  let  the 
savages  know  by  the  report  how  formidably  they 
were  provided.  The  noise  echoed  along  the 
shores  of  the  river,  and  must  have  startled  the 
warriors,  who  were  only  accustomed  to  sharp  re- 
ports of  rifles.  The  same  pieces  were  then  load- 
ed with  as  many  bullets  as  they  would  probably* 
bear  ;  after  which  the  whole  party  embarked  and 
pulled  across  the  river.  The  Indians  remained 
watching  them  in  silence,  their  painted  forms  and 
visages  glaring  in  the  sun,  and  their  feathers  flut- 
tering in  the  breeze.  The  poor  Canadians  eyed 


them  with  rueful  glances,  and  now  and  then  a 
fearful  ejaculation  would  escape  them.  "  Par- 
bleu  !  this  is  a  sad  scrape  we  are  in,  brother!" 
would  one  mutter  to  the  next  oarsman.  "  Ay, 
ay  !"  the  other  would  reply,  "we  are  not  going 
to  a  wedding,  my  friend  !" 

When  the  boats  arrived  within  rifle  shot,  the 
hunters  and  other  fighting  personages  on  board 
seized  their  weapons,  and  prepared  for  action. 
As  they  rose  to  fire,  a  confusion  took  place  among 
the  savages.  They  displayed  their  buffalo  robes, 
raised  them  with  both  hands  above  their  heads, 
and  then  spread  them  before  them  on  the  ground. 
At  sight  of  this  Pierre  Dorion  eagerly  cried  out  to 
the  party  not  to  fire,  as  this  movement  was  a 
peaceful  signal,  and  an  invitation  to  a  parley.  Im- 
mediately about  a  dozen  of  the  principal  warriors, 
separating  from  the  rest,  descended  to  the  edge 
of  the  river,  lighted  a  fire,  seated  themselves  in  a 
semicircle  round  it,  and,  displaying  the  calumet, 
invited  the  party  to  land.  Mr.  Hunt  now  called 
a  council  of  the  partners  on  board  of  his  boat. 
The  question  was,  whether  to  trust  to  the  amicable 
overtures  of  these  ferocious  people  ?  It  was  deter- 
mined in  the  affirmative  ;  for,  otherwise,  there  was 
no  alternative  but  to  fight  them.  The  main  body 
of  the  party  were  ordered  to  remain  on  board  of 
the  boats,  keeping  within  shot,  and  prepared  to  fire 
in  case  of  any  signs  of  treachery  ;  while  Mr.  Hunt 
and  the  other  partners  (M'Kenzie,  Crooks,  Mil- 
ler, and  M'Lellan),  proceeded  to  land,  accom- 
panied by  the  interpreter  and  Mr.  Bradbury.  The 
chiefs  who  awaited  them  on  the  margin  of  the 
river,  remained  seated  in  their  semicircle  without 
stirring  a  limb  or  moving  a  muscle,  motionless  as 
so  many  statues.  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions 
advanced  without  hesitation,  and  took  their  seats 
on  the  sand  so  as  to  complete  the  circle.  The 
band  of  warriors  who  lined  the  banks  above  stood 
looking  down  in  silent  groups  and  clusters,  some 
ostentatiously  equipped  and  decorated,  others  en- 
tirely naked,  but  fantastically  painted,  and  all 
variously  armed. 

The  pipe  of  peace  was  now  brought  forward 
with  due  ceremony.  The  bowl  was  of  a  species  of 
red  stone  resembling  porphyry  ;  the  stem  was  six 
feet  in  length,  decorated  with  tufts  of  horse-hair 
dyed  red.  The  pipebearer  stepped  within  the  cir- 
cle, lighted  the  pipe,  held  it  toward  the  sun,  then 
toward  the  different  points  of  the  compass,  after 
which  he  handed  it  to  the  principal  chief.  The 
latter  smoked  a  few  whiffs,  then,  holding  the  head 
of  the  pipe  in  his  hand,  offered  the  other  end  to 
Mr.  Hunt,  and  to  each  one  successively  in  the  cir- 
cle. When  all  had  smoked,  it  was  considered  that 
an  assurance  of  good  faith  and  amity  had  been 
interchanged.  Mr.  Hunt  now  made  a  speech  in 
French,  which  was  interpreted  as  he  proceeded 
by  Pierre  Dorion.  He  informed  the  Sioux  of  the 
real  object  of  the  expedition,  of  himself  and  his 
companions,  which  was,  not  to  trade  with  any  of 
the  tribes  up  the  river,  but  to  cross  the  mountains 
to  the  great  salt  lake  in  the  west,  in  search  of 
some  of  their  brothers,  whom  they  had  not  seen 
for  eleven  months.  That  he  had  heard  of  the  in- 
tention of  the  Sioux  to  oppose  his  passage,  and 
was  prepared,  as  they  might  see,  to  effect  it  at  all 
hazards  ;  nevertheless  his  feelings  toward  the 
Sioux  were  friendly,  in  proof  of  which  he  had 
brought  them  a  present  of  tobacco  and  corn.  So 
saying,  he  ordered  about  fifteen  carottes  of  to- 
bacco, and  as  many  bags  of  corn,  to  be  brought 
from  the  boat  and  laid  in  a  heap  near  the  council 
fire. 

The  sight  of  these  presents  mollified  the  chief- 


ASTORIA. 


tain,  who  had  doubtless  been  previously  rendered 
considerate  by  the  resolute  conduct  of  the  white 
men,  the  judicious  disposition  of  their  little  arma- 
ment, the  completeness  of  their  equipments,  and 
the  compact  array  of  battle  which  they  presented. 
He  made  a  speech  in  reply,  in  which  he  stated  the 
object  of  their  hostile  assemblage,  which  had  been 
merely  to  prevent  supplies  of  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion from  going  to  the  Arickaras,  Mandans,  and 
Minatarees,  with  whom  they  were  at  war  ;  but 
being  now  convinced  that  the  party  were  carry- 
ing no  supplies  of  the  kind,  but  merely  proceed- 
ing in  quest  of  their  brothers  beyond  the  moun- 
tains, they  would  not  impede  them  in  their  voy- 
age. He'  concluded  by  thanking  them  for  their 
present,  and  advising  them  to  encamp  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  river,  as  he  had  some  young 
men  among  his  warriors  for  whose  discretion  he 
could  not  be  answerable,  and  who  might  be  trou- 
blesome. 

Here  ended  the  conference  :  they  all  arose, 
shook  hands,  and  parted.  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  com- 
panions re-embarked,  and  the  boats  proceeded  on 
their  course  unmolested. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

ON  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  (June 
1st)  they  arrived  at  the  great  bend,  where  the 
river  winds  for  about  thirty  miles  round  a  circu- 
lar peninsula,  the  neck  of  which  is  not  above  two 
thousand  yards  across.  On  the  succeeding  morn- 
ing, at  an  early  hour,  they  descried  two  Indians 
standing  on  a  high  bank  of  the  river,  waving  and 
spreading  their  buffalo  robes  in  signs  of  amity. 
They  immediately  pulled  to  shore  and  landed. 
On  approaching  the  savages,  however,  the  latter 
showed  evident  symptoms  of  alarm,  spreading  out 
their  arms  horizontally,  according  to  their  mode 
of  supplicating  clemency.  The  reason  was  soon 
explained.  They  proved  to  be  two  chiefs  of  the 
very  war  party  that  had  brought  Messrs.  Crooks 
and  M'Lellan  to  a  stand  two  years  before,  and 
obliged  them  to  escape  down  the  river.  They  ran 
to  embrace  these  gentlemen,  as  if  delighted  to 
meet  with  them  ;  yet  they  evidently  feared  some 
retaliation  of  their  past  misconduct,  nor  were 
they  quite  at  ease  until  the  pipe  of  peace  had  been 
smoked. 

Mr.  Hunt  having  been  informed  that  the  tribe 
to  which  these  men  belonged  had  killed  three 
white  men  during  the  preceding  summer  re- 
proached them  with  the  crime,  and.  demanded 
their  reasons  for  such  savage  hostility.  "  We  kill 
white  men,"  replied  one  of  the  chiefs,  "  because 
white  men  kill  us.  That  very  man,"  added  he, 
pointing  to  Carson,  one  of  the  new  recruits, 
"  killed  one  of  our  brothers  last  summer.  The 
three  white  men  were  slain  to  avenge  his  death." 

The  chief  was  correct  in  his  reply.  Carson  ad- 
mitted that,  being  with  a  party  of  Arickaras  on 
the  banks  of  the  Missouri,  and  seeing  a  war  party 
of  Sioux  on  the  opposite  side,  he  had  fired  with 
his  rifle  across.  It  was  a  random  shot,  made 
without  much  expectation  of  effect,  for  the  river 
was  full  half  a  mile  in  breadth.  Unluckily  it 
brought  down  a  Sioux  warrior,  for  whose  wanton 
destruction  threefold  vengeance  had  been  taken, 
as  has  been  stated.  In  this  way  outrages  are 
frequently  committed  on  the  natives  by  thought- 
less or  mischievous  white  men  ;  the  Indians  re- 
taliate according  to  a  law  of  their  code,  which 
requires  blood  for  blood  ;  their  act,  of  what  with 
•them  is  pious  vengeance,  resounds  throughout 


the  land,  and  is  represented  as  wanton  and  un- 
provoked ;  the  neighborhood  is  roused  to  arms  ; 
a  war  ensues,  which  ends  in  the  destruction  of 
half  the  tribe,  the  ruin  of  the  rest,  and  their  ex- 
pulsion from  their  hereditary  homes.  Such  is  too 
often  the  real  history  of  Indian  warfare,  which  in 
general  is  traced  up  only  to  some  vindictive  act 
of  a  savage  ;  while  the  outrage  of  the  scoundrel 
white  man  that  provoked  it  is  sunk  in  silence. 

The  two  chiefs,  having  smoked  their  pipe  of 
peace  and  received  a  few  presents,  departed  well 
satisfied.  In  a  little  while  two  others  appeared 
on  horseback,  and  rode  up  abreast  of  the  boats. 
They  had  seen  the  presents  given  to  their  com- 
rades, but  were  dissatisfied  with  them,  and  came 
after  the  boats  to  ask  for  more.  Being  somewhat 
peremptory  and  insolent  in  their  demands,  Mr. 
Hunt  gave  them  a  fiat  refusal,  and  threatened,  if 
they  or  any  of  their  tribe  followed  him  with  simi- 
lar demands,  to  treat  them  as  enemies.  They 
turned  and  rode  off  in  a  furious  passion.  As  he 
was  ignorant  what  force  these  chiefs  might  have 
behind  the  hills,  and  as  it  was  very  possible  they 
might  take  advantage  of  some  pass  of  the  river  to 
attack  the  boats,  Mr.  Hunt  called  all  stragglers 
on  board  and  prepared  for  such  emergency.  It 
was  agreed  that  the  large  boat  commanded  by 
Mr.  Hunt,  should  ascend  along  the  northeast  side 
of  the  river,  and  the  three  smaller  boats  along 
the  south  side.  By  this  arrangement  each  party 
would  command  a  view  of  the  opposite  heights 
above  the  heads  and  out  of  the  sight  of  their  com- 
panions, and  could  give  the  alarm  should  they 
perceive  any  Indians  lurking  there.  The  signal 
of  alarm  was  to  be  two  shots  fired  in  quick  suc- 
cession. 

The  boats  proceeded  for  the  greater  part  of  the 
day  without  seeing  any  signs  of  an  enemy. 
About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  large 
boat,  commanded  by  Mr.  Hunt,  came  to  where 
the  river  was  divided  by  a  long  sand-bar,  which 
apparently,  however,  left  a  sufficient  channel  be- 
tween it  and  the  shore  along  which  they  were  ad- 
vancing. He  kept  up  this  channel,  therefore,  for 
some  distance,  until  the  water  proved  too  shallow' 
for  the  boat.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  put 
about,  return  down  the  channel,  and  pull  round 
the  lower  end  of  the  sand-bar  into  the  main 
stream.  Just  as  he  had  given  orders  to  this  effect 
to  his  men,  two  signal  guns  were  fired  from  the 
boats  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  At  the 
same  moment  a  file  of  savage  warriors  was  ob- 
served pouring  down  from  the  impending  bank, 
and  gathering  on  the  shore  at  the  lower  end  of 
the  bar.  They  were  evidently  a  war  party,  being 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  battle-clubs,  and 
carbines,  and  round  bucklers  of  buffalo  hide,  and 
their  naked  bodies  were  painted  with  black  and 
white  stripes.  The  natural  inference  was  that 
they  belonged  to  the  two  tribes  of  Sioux  which 
had  been  expected  by  the  great  war  party,  and 
that  they  had  been  incited  to  hostility  by  the  two 
chiefs  who  had  been  enraged  by  the  refusal  and 
the  menace  of  Mr.  Hunt.  Here  then  was  a  fear- 
ful predicament.  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  crew  seemed 
caught,  as  it  were,  in  a  trap.  The  Indians,  to  the 
number  of  about  a  hundred,  had  already  taken 
possession  of  a  point  near  which  the  boat  would 
have  to  pass  :  others  kept  pouring  down  the  bank, 
and  it  was  probable  that  some  would  remain 
posted  on  the  top  of  the  height. 

The  hazardous  situation  of  Mr.  Hunt  was  per- 
ceived by  those  in  the  other  boats,  and  they  hast- 
ened to  his  assistance.  They  were  at  some  dis- 
tance above  the  sand-bar,  however,  and  on  the  op- 


ASTORIA, 


349 


posite  side  of  the  river,  and  saw,  with  intense 
anxiety,  the  number  ot  savages  continually  aug- 
menting, at  the  lower  end  ot  the  channel,  so  that 
the  boat  would  be  exposed  to  a  fearful  attack  be- 
fore they  could  render  it  any  assistance.  Their 
•  anxiety  increased,  as  they  saw  Mr.  Hunt  and  his 
party  descending  the  channel  and  dauntlessly  ap- 
proaching the  point  of  clanger  ;  but  it  suddenly 
changed  into  surprise  on  beholding  the  boat  pass 
close  by  the  savage  horde  unmolested,  and  steer 
out  safely  into  the  broad  river. 

The  next  moment  the  whole  band  of  warriors 
was  in  motion.  They  ran  along  the  bank  until 
they  were  opposite  to  the  boats,  then  throwing  by 
their  weapons  and  buffalo  robes,  plunged  into 
the  river,  waded  and  swam  off  to  the  boats  and 
surrounded  them  in  crowds,  seeking  to  shake 
hands  with  every  individual  on  board  ;  for  the  In- 
dians have  long  since  found  this  to  be  the  white 
man's  token  ot  amity,  and  they  carry  it  to  an  ex- 
treme. 

All  uneasiness  was  now  at  an  end.  The  In- 
dians proved  to  be  a  war  party  of  Arickaras, 
Mandans,  and  Minatarees,  consisting  of  three 
hundred  warriors,  and  bound  on  a  foray  against 
the  Sioux.  Their  war  plans  were  abandoned  for 
the  present,  and  they  determined  to  return  to  the 
Arickara  town,  where  they  hoped  to  obtain  from 
the  white  men  arms  and  ammunition  that  would 
enable  them  to  take  the  field  with  advantage  over 
their  enemies. 

The  boats  now  sought  the  first  convenient  place 
for  encamping.  The  tents  were  pitched  ;  the 
warriors  fixed  their  camp  at  about  a  hundred 
yards  distant  ;  provisions  were  furnished  from  the 
boats  sufficient  for  all  parties  ;  there  was  hearty 
though  rude  feasting  in  both  camps,  and  in  the 
evening  the  red  warriors  entertained  their  white 
friends  with  dances  and  songs,  that  lasted  until 
after  midnight. 

On  the  following  morning  (July  3d)  the  travel- 
lers re-embarked,  and  took  a  temporary  leave  of 
their  Indian  friends,  who  intended  to  proceed  im- 
mediately for  the  Arickara  town,  where  they  ex- 
pected to  arrive  in  three  days,  long  before  the 
boats  could  reach  there.  Mr.  Hunt  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  before  the  chief  came  galloping  along 
the  shore  and  made  signs  for  a  parley.  He  said 
his  people  could  not  go  home  satisfied  unless  they 
had  something  to  take  with  them  to  prove  that 
they  had  met  with  the  white  men.  Mr.  Hunt 
understood  the  drift  of  the  speech,  and  made  the 
chief  a  present  of  a  cask  of  powder,  a  bag  of 
balls,  and  three  dozen  of  knives,  with  which  he 
was  highly  pleased.  While  the  chief  was  receiv- 
ing these  presents  an  Indian  came  running  along 
the  shore,  and  announced  that  a  boat,  filled  with 
white  men,  was  coming  up  the  river.  This  was 
by  no  means  agreeable  tidings  to  Mr.  Hunt,  who 
correctly  concluded  it  to  be  the  boat  ot  Mr.  Man- 
uel Lisa  ;  and  he  was  vexed  to  find  that  alert  and 
adventurous  trader  upon  his  heels,  whom  he  had 
hoped  to  have  outmanoeuvred,  and  left  far  be- 
hind. Lisa,  however,  was  too  much  experienced 
in  the  wiles  of  Indian  trade  to  be  lulled  by  the 
promise  of  waiting  for  him  at  the  Poncas  village  ; 
on  the  contrary,  he  had  allowed  himself  no  re- 
pose, and  had  strained  every  nerve  to  overtake 
the  rival  party,  and  availing  himself  ot  the  moon-, 
light,  had  even  sailed  during  a  considerable  part 
of  the  night.  In  this  he  was  partly  prompted  by 
his  apprehensions  of  the  Sioux,  having  met  a  boat 
which  had  probably  passed  Mr.  Hunt's  party  in 
the  night,  and  which  had  been  fired  into  by  these 
savages.  .  i 


On  hearing  that  Lisa  was  so  near  at  hand,  Mr. 
Hunt  perceived  that  it  was  useless  to  attempt  any 
longer  to  evade  him  ;  after  proceeding  a  few  miles 
further,  therefore,  he  came  to  a  halt  and  waited 
for  him  to  come  up.  In  a  little  while  the  barge 
of  Lisa  made  its  appearance.  It  came  sweeping 
gently  up  the  river,  manned  by  its  twenty  stout 
oarsmen,  and  armed  by  a  swivel  mounted  at  the 
bow.  The  whole  number  on  board  amounted  to 
twenty-six  men  ;  among  whom  was  Mr.  Henry 
Breckenridge,  then  a  young,  enterprising  man  ; 
who  was  a  mere  passenger,  tempted  by  notions  of 
curiosity  to  accompany  Mr.  Lisa.  He  has  since 
made  himself  known  by  various  writings,  among 
which  may  be  noted  a  narrative  of  this  very  voy- 
age. 

The  approach  of  Lisa,  while  it  was  regarded 
with  uneasiness  by  Mr.  Hunt,  roused  thje  ire  of 
M'Lellan  ;  who  calling  to  mind  old  grievances, 
began  to  look  round  for  his  rifle,  as  it  he  really 
intended  to  carry  his  threat  into  execution  and 
shoot  him  on  the  spot  ;  and  it  was  with  some  diffi- 
culty that  Mr.  Hunt  was  enabled  to  restrain  his 
ire,  and  prevent  a  scene  of  outrage  and  confu- 
sion. 

The  meeting  between  the  two  leaders,  thus  mu- 
tually distrustful,  could  not  be  very  cordial  ;  and 
as  to  Messrs.  Crooks  and  M'Lellan,  though  they 
refrained  from  any  outbreak,  yet  they  regarded  in 
grim  defiance  their  old  rival  and  underplotter.  In 
truth,  a  general  distrust  prevailed  throughout  the 
party  concerning  Lisa  and  his  intentions.  They 
considered  him  artful  and  slippery,  and  secretly 
anxious  for  the  failure  of  their  expedition.  There 
being  now  nothing  more  to  be  apprehended  from 
the  Sioux,  they  suspected  that  Lisa  would  take  ad- 
vantage of  his  twenty-oared  barge  to  leave  them 
and  get  first  among  the  Arickaras.  As  he  had 
traded  with  those  people  and  possessed  great  in- 
fluence over  them,  it  was  feared  he  might  make 
use  of  it  to  impede  the  business  of  Mr.  Hunt  and 
his  party.  It  was  resolved,  therefore,  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  upon  his  movements  ;  and  M'Lellan 
swore  that  if  he  saw  the  least  sign  of  treachery  on 
his  part,  he  would  instantly  put  his  old  threat  into 
execution. 

Notwithstanding  these  secret  jealousies  and 
heart-burnings,  the  two  parties  maintained  an 
outward  appearance  of  civility,  and  for  two  days 
continued  forward  in  company  with  some  degree 
of  harmony.  On  the  third  clay,  however,  an  ex- 
plosion took  place,  and  it  was  produced  by  no  less 
a  personage  than  Pierre  Uorion,  the  half-breed 
interpreter.  It  will  be  recollected  that  this 
worthy  had  been  obliged  to  steal  a  march  from 
St.  Louis,  to  avoid  being  arrested  for  an  old 
whiskey  debt  which  he  owed  to  the  Missouri  Fur 
Company,  and  by  which  Mr.  Lisa  had  hoped  to 
prevent  his  enlisting  in  Mr.  Hunt's  expedition. 
Uorion,  since  the  arrival  ot  Lisa,  had  kept  aloof, 
and  regarded  him  with  a  sullen  and  dogged  as- 
pect. On  the  fifth  of  July,  the  two  parties  were 
brought  to  a  halt  by  a  heavy  rain,  and  remained 
encamped  about  a  hundred  yards  apart.  In  the 
course  of  the  day  Lisa  undertook  to  tamper  with 
the  faith  of  Pierre  Dorion,  and,  inviting  him  on 
board  of  his  boat,  regaled  him  with  his  favorite 
whiskey.  When  he  thought  him  sufficiently  mel- 
lowed, he  proposed  to  him  to  quit  the  service  of  his 
new  employers  and  return  to  his  old  allegiance. 
Finding  him  not  to  be  moved  by  soft  words,  he 
called  to  mind  his  old  debt  to  the  company,  and 
threatened  to  carry  him  off  by  force,  in  payment  of 
it.  The  mention  of  this  debt  always  stirred  up  the 
gall  of  Pierre  Dorion,  bringing  with  it  the  re  mem- 


350 


ASTORIA. 


brance  of  the  whiskey  extortion.  A  violent  quarrel 
arose  between  him  and  Lisa,  and  he  left  the  boat 
in  high  dudgeon.  His  first  step  was  to  repair  to 
the  tent  of  Mr.  Hunt  and  reveal  the  attempt  that 
had  been  made  to  shake  his  faith.  While  he  was 
yet  talking  Lisa  entered  the  tent,  under  the  pre- 
text of  coming  to  borrow  a  towing  line.  High 
words  instantly  ensued  between  him  and  Dorion, 
which  ended  by  the  hall-breed's  dealing  him  a 
blow.  A  quarrel  in  the  "  Indian  country,"  how- 
ever, is  not  to  be  settled  with  fisticuffs.  Lisa 
immediately  rushed  to  his  boat  for  a  weapon. 
Dorion  snatched  up  a  pair  of  pistols  belonging  to 
Mr.  Hunt,  and  placed  himself  in  battle  array. 
The  noise  had  roused  the  camp,  and  every  one 
pressed  to  know  the  cause.  Lisa  now  reappeared 
upon  the  field  with  a  knife  stuck  in  his  girdle. 
Mr.  Breckenridge,  who  had  tried  in  vain  to  mollify 
his  ire,  accompanied  him  to  the  scene  of  action. 
Pierre  Dorion's  pistols  gave  him  the  advantage, 
and  he  maintained  a  most  warlike  attitude.  In 
the  mean  time  Crooks  and  M'Lellan  had  learnt 
the  cause  of  the  affray,  and  were  each  eager  to 
take  the  quarrel  into  their  own  hands.  A  scene 
of  uproar  and  hubbub  ensued  that  defies  descrip- 
tion. M'Lellan  would  have  brought  his  rifle  into 
play  and  settled  all  old  and  new  grudges  by  a  pull 
of  the  trigger,  had  he  not  been  restrained  by  Mr. 
Hunt.  That  gentleman  acted  as  moderator,  en- 
deavoring to  prevent  a  general  mele"e  ;  in  the 
midst  of  the  brawl,  however,  an  expression  was 
made  use  of  by  Lisa  derogatory  to  his  own  honor. 
In  an  instant  the  tranquil  spirit  of  Mr.  Hunt  was 
in  a  flame.  He  now  became  as  eager  for  fight  as 
any  one  on  the  ground,  and  challenged  Lisa  to 
settle  the  dispute  on  the  spot  with  pistols.  Lisa 
repaired  to  his  boat  to  arm  himself  for  the  deadly 
feud.  He  was  followed  by  Messrs.  Bradbury  and 
Breckenridge,  who,  novices  in  Indian  life  and  the 
"chivalry"  of  the  frontier,  had  no  relish  lor 
scenes  of  blood  and  brawl.  By  their  earnest  medi- 
ation the  quarrel  was  with  great  difficulty  brought 
to  a  close  without  bloodshed  ;  but  the  two  leaders 
of  the  rival  camps  separated  in  anger,  and  all 
personal  intercourse  ceased  between  them. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

THE  rival  parties  now  coasted  along  the  oppo- 
site sides  of  the  river,  within  sight  of  each  other  ; 
the  barges  of  Mr.  Hunt  always  keeping  some  dis- 
tance in  the  advance,  lest  Lisa  should  push  on 
and  get  first  to  the  Arickara  village.  The  scenery 
and  objects,  as  they  proceeded,  gave  evidence  that 
they  were  advancing  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
domains  of  savage  nature.  Boundless  wastes 
kept  extending  to  the  eye,  more  and  more  ani- 
mated by  herds  of  buffalo.  Sometimes  these 
unwieldy  animals  were  seen  moving  in  long  pro- 
cession across  the  silent  landscape  ;  at  other  times 
they  were  scattered  about,  singly  or  in  groups,  on 
the  broad-enamelled  prairies  and  green  accliv- 
ities, some  cropping  the  rich  pasturage,  others 
reclining  amid  the  flowery  herbage  ;  the  whole 
scene  realizing  in  a  manner  the  old  scriptural  de- 
scriptions of  the  vast  pastoral  countries  of  the 
Orient,  with  "  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills." 

At  one  place  the  shores  seemed  absolutely  lined 
with  buffaloes  ;  many  were  making  their  way 
across  the  stream,  snorting,  and  blowing,  and 
floundering.  Numbers,  in  spite  of  every  effort, 
were  borne  by  the  rapid  current  within  shot  of  the 
boats,  and  several  were  killed.  At  another  place 


a  number  were  descried  on  the  beach  of  a  small 
island,  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  or  standing 
in  the  water,  like  cattle,  to  avoid  the  flies  and  the 
heat  of  the  day. 

Several  of  the  best  marksmen  stationed  them- 
selves in  the  bow  of  a  barge  which  advanced 
slowly  and  silently,  stemming  the  current  with 
the  aid  of  a  broad  sail  and  a  fair  breeze.  The 
buffalo  stood  gazing  quietly  at  the  barge  as  it  ap- 
proached, perfectly  unconscious  of  their  danger. 
The  fattest  of  the  herd  was  selected  by  the  hunters, 
who  all  fired  together  and  brought  down  their 
victim. 

Besides  the  buffaloes  they  saw  abundance  of 
deer,  and  frequent  gangs  of  stately  elks,  together 
with  light  troops  of  sprightly  antelopes,  the  fleet- 
est and  most  beautiful  inhabitants  of  the  prairies. 
There  are  two  kinds  of  antelopes  in  these  regions, 
one  nearly  the  size  of  the  common  deer,  the  other 
not  much  larger  than  a  goat.  Their  color  is  a 
light  gray,  or  rather  dun,  slightly  spotted  with 
white  ;  and  they  have  small  horns  like  those  of 
the  deer,  which  they  never  shed.  Nothing  can 
surpass  the  delicate  and  elegant  finish  of  their 
limbs,  in  which  lightness,  elasticity,  and  strength 
are  wonderfully  combined.  All  the  attitudes  and 
movements  of  this  beautiful  animal  are  graceful 
and  picturesque  ;  and  it  is  altogether  as  fit  a  sub- 
ject for  the  fanciful  uses  of  the  poet,  as  the  oft- 
sung  gazelle  of  the  East. 

Their  habits  are  shy  and  capricious  ;  they  keep 
on  the  open  plains,  are  quick  to  take  the  alarm,  and 
bound  away  with  a  fleetness  that  defies  pursuit. 
When  thus  skimming  across  a  prairie  in  the 
autumn,  their  light  gray  or  dun  color  blends  with 
the  hue  of  the  withered  herbage,  the  swiftness  of 
their  motion  baffles  the  eye,  and  they  almost  seem 
unsubstantial  forms,  driven  like  gossamer  before 
the  wind. 

While  they  thus  keep  to  the  open  plain  and 
trust  to  their  speed,  they  are  safe  ;  but  they  have 
a  prurient  curiosity  that  sometimes  betrays  them 
to  their  ruin.  When  they  have  scud  for  some  dis- 
tance and  left  their  pursuer  behind,  they  will 
suddenly  stop  and  turn  to  gaze  at  the  object  of  their 
alarm.  If  the  pursuit  is  not  followed  up  they  will, 
after  a  time,  yield  to  their  inquisitive  hankering, 
and  return  to  the  place  from  whence  they  have 
been  frightened. 

John  Day,  the  veteran  hunter  already  men- 
tioned, displayed  his  experience  and  skill  in  en- 
trapping one  of  these  beautiful  animals.  Taking 
advantage  of  his  well  known  curiosity,  he  laid 
down  flat  among  the  grass,  and  putting  his  hand- 
kerchief on  the  end  of  his  ramrod,  waved  it  gently 
in  the  air.  This  had  the  effect  of  the  fabled  fas- 
cination of  the  rattlesnake.  The  antelope  gazed  at 
the  mysterious  object  for  some  time  at  a  distance, 
then  approached  timidly,  pausing  and  reconnoi- 
tering  with  increased  curiosity  ;  moving  round  the 
point  of  attraction  in  a  circle,  but  still  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  being  within  the  range  of 
the  deadly  rifle,  he  fell  a  victim  to  his  curiosity. 

On  the  loth  of  June,  as  the  party  were  making 
brisk  progress  with  a  fine  breeze,  they  met  a  canoe 
with  three  Indians  descending  the  river.  They 
came  to  a  parley,  and  brought  news  from  the 
Arickara  village.  The  war  party,  which  had 
caused  such  alarm  at  the  sand-bar,  had  reached 
the  village  some  days  previously,  announced  the 
approach  of  a  party  of  traders,  and  displayed  with 
great  ostentation  the  presents  they  had  received 
from  them.  On  further  conversation  with  these 
three  Indians,  Mr.  Hunt  learnt  the  real  danger 
which  he  had  run,  when  hemmed  up  within  the 


ASTORIA. 


351 


sand-bar.  The  Mandans  who  were  of  the  war 
party,  when  they  saw  the  boats  so  completely  en- 
trapped and  apparently  within  their  power,  had 
been  eager  for  attacking  it,  and  securing  so  rich 
a  prize.  The  Minatarees,  also,  were  nothing  loath, 
feeling  in  some  measure  committed  in  hostility  to 
the  whites,  in  consequence  of  their  tribe  having 
killed  two  white  men  above  the  fort  of  the  Mis- 
souri Fur  Company.  Fortunately,  the  Arickaras, 
who  formed  the  majority  of  the  war  party,  proved 
true  in  their  friendship  to  the  whites,  and  prevent- 
ed any  hostile  act,  otherwise  a  bloody  affray,  and 
perhaps  a  horrible  massacre,  might  have  ensued. 

On  the  nth  of  June  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  compan- 
ions encamped  near  an  island  about  six  miles  be- 
low the  Arickara  village.  Mr.  Lisa  encamped, 
as  usual,  at  no  great  distance  ;  but  the  same  sul- 
len and  jealous  reserve  and  non-intercourse  con- 
tinued between  them.  Shortly  after  pitching  the 
tents,  Mr.  Breckenridge  made  his  appearance  as 
an  ambassador  from  the  rival  camp.  He  came  on 
behalf  of  his  companions,  to  arrange  the  manner 
of  making  their  entrance  into  the  village  and  of 
receiving  the  chiefs  ;  for  everything  of  the  kind 
is  a  matter  of  grave  ceremonial  among  the  In- 
dians. 

The  partners  now  expressed  frankly  their  deep 
distrust  of  the  intentions  of  Mr.  Lisa,  and  their  ap- 
prehensions, that,  out  of  the  jealousy  of  trade,  and 
resentment  of  recent  disputes,  he  might  seek  to 
instigate  the  Arickaras  against  them.  Mr.  Breck- 
enridge assured  them  that  their  suspicions  v/ere 
entirely  groundless,  and  pledged  himself  that 
nothing  of  the  kind  should  take  place.  He  found 
it  difficult,  however,  to  remove  their  distrust  ;  the 
conference,  therefore,  ended  without  producing 
any  cordial  understanding  ;  and  M'Lellan  recurred 
to  his  old  threat  of  shooting  Lisa  the  instant  he 
discovered  anything  like  treachery  in  his  pro- 
ceedings. 

That  night  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  accompa- 
nied by  thunder  and  lightning.  The  camp  was 
deluged,  and  the  bedding  and  baggage  drenched. 
All  hands  embarked  at  an  early  hour,  and  set 
forward  for  the  village.  About  nine  o'clock,  when 
half  way,  they  met  a  canoe,  on  board  of  which 
were  two  Arickara  dignitaries.  One,  a  fine-look- 
ing man,  much  above  the  common  size,  was  he- 
reditary chief  of  the  village  ;  he  was  called  the 
Left-handed,  on  account  of  a  personal  peculiarity. 
The  other,  a  ferocious-looking  savage,  was  the 
war  chief,  or  generalissimo  ;  he  was  known  by 
the  name  of  the  Big  Man,  an  appellation  he  well 
deserved  from  his  size,  for  he  was  of  a  gigantic 
frame.  Both  were  of  fairer  complexion  than  is 
usual  with  savages. 

They  were  accompanied  by  an  interpreter,  a 
French  Creole,  one  of  those  haphazard  wights  of 
Gallic  origin,  who  abound  upon  our  frontier,  living 
among  the  Indians  like  one  of  their  own  race.  He 
had  been  twenty  years  among  the  Arickaras,  had 
a  squaw  and  a  troop  of  piebald  children,  and 
officiated  as  interpreter  to  the  chiefs.  Through 
this  worthy  organ  the  two  dignitaries  signified  to 
Mr.  Hunt  their  sovereign  intention  to  oppose  the 
further  progress  of  the  expedition  up  the  river 
unless  a  boat  were  left  to  trade  with  them.  Mr. 
Hunt,  in  reply,  explained  the  object  of  his  voyage, 
and  his  intention  of  debarking  at  their  village  and 
proceeding  thence  by  land  ;  and  that  he  would 
willingly  trade  with  them  for  a  supply  of  horses 
for  his  journey.  With  this  explanation  they  were 
perfectly  satisfied,  and  putting  about,  steered  for 
their  village  to  make  preparations  for  the  reception 
of  the  strangers. 


The  village  of  the  Rikaras,  Arickaras,  or  Rica- 
rees,  for  the  name  is  thus  variously  written,  is  be- 
tween the  46th  and  47th  parallels  of  north  latitude, 
and  fourteen  hundred  and  thirty  miles  above  the 
mouth  of  the  Missouri.  The  party  reached  it 
about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  landed  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  where  they  spread 
out  their  baggage  and  effects  to  dry.  From 
hence  they  commanded  an  excellent  view  of  the 
village.  It  was  divided  into  two  portions,  about 
eighty  yards  apart,  being  inhabited  by  two  distinct 
bands.  The  whole  extended  about  three  quarters 
of  a  mile  along  the  river  bank,  and  was  composed 
of  conical  lodges,  that  looked  like  so  many  small 
hillocks,  being  wooden  frames  intertwined  with 
osier,  and  covered  with  earth.  The  plain  beyond 
the  village  swept  up  into  hills  of  considerable 
height,  but  the  whole  country  was  nearly  desti- 
tute of  trees.  While  they  were  regarding  the  vil- 
lage, they  beheld  a  singular  fleet  coming  down 
the  river.  It  consisted  of  a  number  of  canoes, 
each  made  of  a  single  buffalo  hide  stretched  on 
sticks,  so  as  to  form  a  kind  of  circular  trough. 
Each  one  was  navigated  by  a  single  squaw,  who 
knelt  in  the  bottom  and  paddled,  towing  after  her 
frail  bark  a  bundle  of  floating  wood  intended  for 
firing.  This  kind  of  canoe  is  in  frequent  use 
among  the  Indians  ;  the  buffalo  hide  being  read- 
ily made  up  into  a  bundle  and  transported  on 
horseback  ;  it  is  very  serviceable  in  conveying 
baggage  across  the  rivers. 

The  great  number  of  horses  grazing  around  the 
village,  and  scattered  over  the  neighboring  hills 
and  valleys,  bespoke  the  equestrian  habits  of  the 
Arickaras,  who  are  admirable  horsemen.  In- 
deed, in  the  number  of  his  horses  consists  the 
wealth  of  an  Indian  of  the  prairies  ;  who  resem- 
bles an  Arab  in  his  passion  for  this  noble  animal, 
and  in  his  adroitness  in  the  management  of  it. 

After  a  time,  the  voice  of  the  sovereign  chief, 
"the  Left-handed,"  was  heard  across  the  river, 
announcing  that  the  council  lodge  was  preparing, 
and  inviting  the  white  men  to  come  over.  The 
river  was  half  a  mile  in  width,  yet  every  word  ut- 
tered by  the  chieftain  was  heard  ;  this  may  be 
partly  attributed  to  the  distinct  manner  in  which 
every  syllable  of  the  compound  words  in  the  In- 
dian languages  is  articulated  and  accented  ;  but 
in  truth,  a  savage  warrior  might  often  rival 
Achilles  himself  for  force  of  lungs.* 

Now  came  the  delicate  point  of  management : 
how  the  two  rival  parties  were  to  conduct  their 
visit  to  the  village  with  proper  circumspection 
and  due  decorum.  Neither  of  the  leaders  had 
spoken  to  each  other  since  their  quarrel.  All 
communication  had  been  by  ambassadors.  Seeing 
the  jealousy  entertained  of  Lisa,  Mr.  Brecken- 
ridge, in  his  negotiation,  had  arranged  that  a 
deputation  from  each  party  should  cross  the  river 
at  the  same  time,  so  that  neither  would  have  the 
first  access  to  the  ear  of  the  Arickaras. 

The  distrust  of  Lisa,  however,  had  increased 
in  proportion  as  they  approached  the  sphere  of 
action,  and  M'Lellan  in  particular  kept  a  vigilant 
eye  upon  his  motions,  swearing  to  shoot  him  if  he 
attempted  to  cross  the  river  first. 

About  two  o'clock  the  large  boat  of  Mr.  Hunt 
was  manned,  and  he  stepped  on  board,  accom- 
panied by  Messrs.  M'Kenzie  and  M'Lellan  ;  Lisa 
at  the  same  time  embarked  in  his  barge  ;  the  two 
deputations  amounted  in  all  to  fourteen  persons, 
and  never  was  any  movement  of  rival  potentates 
conducted  with  more  wary  exactness. 


*  Bradbury,  p.  no. 


•352 


ASTORIA. 


They  landed  amid  a  rabble  crowd,  and  were 
received  on  the  bank  by  the  left-handed  chief,  who 
conducted  them  into  the  village  with  grave  court- 
esy ;  driving  to  the  right  and  left  the  swarms  of 
old  squaws,  imp-like  boys,  and  vagabond  dogs, 
with  which  the  place  abounded.  They  wound 
their  way  between  the  cabins,  which  looked  like 
dirt-heaps  huddled  together  without  any  plan,  and 
surrounded  by  old  palisades  ;  all  filthy  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  redolent  of  villainous  smells. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  council  lodge.  It 
was  somewhat  spacious,  and  formed  of  four  fork- 
ed trunks  of  trees  placed  upright,  supporting 
cross-beams  and  a  frame  of  poles  interwoven  with 
osiers,  and  the  whole  covered  with  earth.  A  hole 
sunken  in  the  centre  formed  the  fireplace,  and  im- 
mediately above  was  a  circular  hole  in  the  apex 
.of  the  lodge,  to  let  out  the  smoke  and  let  in  the 
daylight.  Around  the  lodge  were  recesses  for 
sleeping,  like  the  berths  on  board  ships,  screen- 
ed from  view  by  curtains  of  dressed  skins.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  lodge  was  a  kind  of  hunting 
and  warlike  trophy,  consisting  ot  two  buffalo 
heads  garishly  painted,  surmounted  by  shields, 
bows,  quivers  of  arrows,  and  other  weapons. 

On  entering  the  lodge  the  chief  pointed  to  mats 
or  cushions  which  had  been  placed  around  for  the 
strangers,  and  on  which  they  seated  themselves, 
while  he  placed  himself  on  a  kind  of  stool.  An 
old  man  then  came  forward  with  the  pipe  of  peace 
or  good-fellowship,  lighted  and  handed  it  to  the 
chief,  and  then  falling  back,  squatted  himself 
near  the  door.  The  pipe  was  passed  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  each  one  taking  a  whiff,  which  is  equiv- 
alent to  the  inviolable  pledge  of  faith,  of  taking 
salt  together  among  the  ancient  Britons.  The 
chief  then  made  a  sign  to  the  old  pipe-bearer, 
who  seemed  to  fill,  likewise,  the  station  of  herald, 
seneschal,  and  public  crier,  for  he  ascended  to 
the  top  of  the  lodge  to  make  proclamation.  Here 
he  took  his  post  beside  the  aperture  for  the  emis- 
sion of  smoke  and  the  admission  of  light  ;  the 
chief  dictated  from  within  what  he  was  to  pro- 
claim, and  he  bawled  it  forth  with  a  force  of  lungs 
that  resounded  over  all  the  village.  In  this  way 
he  summoned  the  warriors  and  great  men  to 
council  ;  every  now  and  then  reporting  progress 
to  his  chief  through  the  hole  in  the  roof. 

In  a  little  while  the  braves  and  sages  began  to 
enter  one  by  one  as  their  names  were  called  or 
announced,  emerging  from  under  the  buffalo  robe 
suspended  over  the  entrance  instead  of  a  door, 
stalking  across  the  lodge  to  the  skins  placed  on 
the  floor,  and  crouching  down  on  them  in  silence. 
In  this  way  twenty  entered  and  took  their  seats, 
forming  an  assemblage  worthy  of  the  pencil  ;  for 
the  Arickaras  are  a  noble  race  of  men,  large  and 
well  formed,  and  maintain  a  savage  grandeur  and 
gravity  of  demeanor  in  their  solemn  ceremonials. 

All  being  seated,  the  old  seneschal  prepared  the 
pipe  of  ceremony  or  council,  and  having  lit  it, 
handed  it  to  the  chief.  He  inhaled  the  sacred 
smoke,  gave  a  puff  upward  to  the  heaven,  then 
downward  to  the  earth,  then  toward  the  east  ; 
after  this  it  was  as  usual  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  each  holding  it  respectfully  until  his  neigh- 
bor had  taken  several  whiffs  ;  and  now  the  grand 
council  was  considered  as  opened  in  due  form. 

The  chief  made  an  harangue  welcoming  the 
white  men  to  his  village,  and  expressing  his  hap- 
piness in  taking  them  by  the  hand  as  friends  ; 
but  at  the  same  time  complaining  of  the  poverty 
of  himself  and  his  people;  the  usual  prelude 
among  Indians  to  begging  or  hard  bargaining. 

Lisa  rose  to  reply,  and  the  eyes  of  Hunt  and 


.his  companions  were  eagerly  turned  upon  him, 
those  of  M'Lellan  glaring  like  a  basilisk's.  He 
began  by  the  usual  expressions  of  friendship,  and 
then  proceeded  to  explain  the  object  of  his  own 
party.  Those  persons,  however,  said  he,  point- 
ing to  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions,  are  of  a 
different  party,  and  are  quite  distinct  in  their 
views  ;  but,  added  he,  though  we  are  separate 
parties,  we  make  but  one  common  cause  when  the 
safety  of  either  is  concerned.  Any  injury  or  in- 
sult offered  to  them  I  shall  consider  as  done  to 
myself,  and  will  resent  it  accordingly.  I  trust, 
therefore,  that  you  will  treat  them  with  the  same 
friendship  that  you  have  always  manifested  for 
me,  doing  everything  in  your  power  to  serve 
them  and  to  help  them  on  their  way.  The  speech 
of  Lisa,  delivered  with  an  air  of  frankness  and 
sincerity,  agreeably  surprised  and  disappointed 
the  rival  party. 

Mr.  Hunt  then  spoke,  declaring  the  object  of 
his  journey  to  the  great  Salt  Lake  beyond  the 
mountains,  and  that  he  should  want  horses  for  the 
purpose,  for  which  he  was  ready  to  trade,  having 
brought  with  him  plenty  of  goods.  Both  he  and 
Lisa  concluded  their  speeches  by  making  presents 
of  tobacco. 

The  left-handed  chieftain  in  reply  promised  his 
friendship  and  aid  to  the  new-comers,  and  wel- 
comed-them  to  his  village.  He  added  that  they 
had  not  the  number  of  horses  to  spare  that  Mr. 
Hunt  required,  and  expressed  a  doubt  whether 
they  should  be  able  to  part  with  any.  Upon  this, 
another  chieftain,  called  Gray  Eyes,  made  a 
speech,  and  declared  that  they  could  readily  sup- 
ply Mr.  Hunt  with  all  the  horses  he  might  want, 
since,  if  they  had  not  enough  in  the  village,  they 
could  easily  steal  more.  This  honest  expedient 
immediately  removed  the  main  dihiculty  ;  but  the 
chief  deferred  all  trading  for  a  day  or  two,  until 
he  should  have  time  to  consult  with  his  subordi- 
nate chiefs,  as  to  market  rates  ;  for  the  principal 
chief  of  a  village,  in  conjunction  with  his  council, 
usually  fixes  the  prices  at  which  articles  shall  be 
bought  and  sold,  and  to  them  the  village  must 
conform. 

The  council  now  broke  up.  Mr.  Hunt  trans- 
ferred his  camp  across  the  river  at  a  little  dis- 
tance below  the  village,  and  the  left-handed  chief 
placed  some  ot  his  warriors  as  a  guard  to  prevent 
the  intrusion  of  any  of  his  people.  The  camp 
was  pitched  on  the  river  bank  just  above  the  boats. 
The  tents,  and  the  men  wrapped  in  their  blankets 
and  bivouacking  on  skins  in  the  open  air,  sur- 
rounded the  baggage  at  night.  Four  sentinels 
also  kept  watch  within  sight  of  each  other  outside, 
of  the  camp  until  midnight,  when  they  were  re- 
lieved by  four  others  who  mounted  guard  until 
daylight.  Mr.  Lisa  encamped  near  to  Mr.  Hunt, 
between  him  and  the  village. 

The  speech  of  Mr.  Lisa  in  the  council  had  pro- 
duced a  pacific  effect  in  the  encampment. 
Though  the  sincerity  of  his  friendship  and  good- 
will toward  the  new  company  still  remained 
matter  of  doubt,  he  was  no  longer  suspected  of 
an  intention  to  play  false.  The  intercourse  be- 
tween the  two  leaders  was,  therefore,  resumed, 
and  the  affairs  of  both  parties  went  on  harmoni-  ' 
ously. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

A  TRADE  now  commenced  with  the  Arickaras 
under  the  regulation  and  supervision  of  their  two 
chieftains.  Lisa  sent  a"  part  of  his  goods  to  the 


ASTORIA. 


353 


lodge  of  the  left-handed  dignitary,  and  Mr.  Hunt 
established  his  mart  in  the  lodge  of  the  Big  Man. 
The  village  soon  presented  the  appearance  of  a 
busy  fair  ;  and  as  horses  were  in  demand,  the 
purlieus  and  the  adjacent  plain  were  like  the  vi- 
cinity of  a  Tartar  encampment  ;  horses  were  put 
through  all  their  paces,  and  horsemen  were  ca- 
reering about  with  that  dexterity  and  grace  for 
which  the  Arickaras  are  noted.  As  soon  as  a 
horse  was  purchased,  his  tail  was  cropped,  a  sure 
mode  of  distinguishing  him  from  the  horses  of 
the  tribe  ;  for  the  Indians  disdain  to  practise  this 
absurd,  barbarous,  and  indecent  mutilation,  in- 
vented by  some  mean  and  vulgar  mind,  insensi- 
ble to  the  merit  and  perfections  of  the  animal. 
On  the  contrary,  the  Indian  horses  are  suffered 
to  remain  in  every  respect  the  superb  and  beauti- 
ful animals  which  nature  formed  them. 

The  wealth  of  an  Indian  of  the  far  west  consists 
principally  in  his  horses,  of  which  each  chief  and 
warrior  possesses  a  great  number,  so  that  the 
plains  about  an  Indian  village  or  encampment 
are  covered  with  them.  These  form  objects  of 
traffic,  or  objects  of  depredation,  and  in  this  way 
pass  from  tribe  to  tribe  over  great  tracts  of  coun- 
try. The  horses  owned  by  the  Arickaras  are,  for 
the  most  part,  of  the  wild  stock  of  the  prairies  ; 
some  however,  had  been  obtained  from  the 
Poncas,  Pawnees,  and  other  tribes  to  the  south- 
west, who  had  stolen  them  from  the  Spaniards  in 
the  course  of  horse-stealing  expeditions  into  the 
Mexican  territories.  These  were  to  be  known  by 
being  branded,  a  Spanish  mode  of  marking  horses 
not  practised  by  the  Indians. 

As  the  Arickaras  were  meditating  another  expe- 
dition against  their  enemies  the  Sioux,  the  articles 
of  traffic  most  in  demand  were  guns,  tomahawks, 
scalping-knives,  powder,  ball,  and  other  muni- 
tions of  war.  The  price  of  a  horse,  as  regulated 
by  the  chiefs,  was  commonly  ten  dollars'  worth  of 
goods  at  first  cost.  To  supply  the  demand  thus 
suddenly  created,  parties  of  young  men  and  braves 
had  sallied  forth  on  expeditions  to  steal  horses  ; 
a  species  of  service  among  the  Indians  which  takes 
precedence  of  hunting,  and  is  considered  a  de- 
partment of  honorable  warfare. 

While  the  leaders  of  the  expedition  were  active- 
ly engaged  in  preparing  for  the  approaching  jour- 
ney, those  who  had  accompanied  it  for  curiosity 
or  amusement,  found  ample  matter  for  observa- 
tion in  the  village  and  its  inhabitants.  Wherever 
they  went  they  were  kindly  entertained.  If  they 
entered  a  lodge,  the  buffalo  robe  was  spread  be- 
fore the  fire  for  them  to  sit  down  ;  the  pipe  was 
brought,  and  while  the  master  of  the  lodge  con- 
versed with  his  guests,  the  squaw  put  the  earthen 
vessel  over  the  fire,  well  filled  with  dried  buffalo 
meat  and  pounded  corn  ;  for  the  Indian  in  his  na- 
tive state,  before  he  has  mingled  much  with  white 
men,  and  acquired  their  sordid  habits,  has  the 
hospitality  of  the  Arab  :  never  does  a  stranger 
enter  his  door  without  having  food  placed  before 
him  ;  and  never  is  the  food  thus  furnished  made 
a  matter  of  traffic. 

The  life  of  an  Indian  when  at  home  in  his  vil- 
lage is  a  life  of  indolence  and  amusement.  To 
the  woman  is  consigned  the  labors  of  the  house- 
hold and  the  field  ;  she  arranges  the  lodge  ;  brings 
wood  for  the  fire  ;  cooks  ;  jerks  venison  and  buf- 
falo meat  ;  dresses  the  skins  of  the  animals  killed 
in  the  chase  ;  cultivates  the  little  patch  of  maize, 
pumpkins,  and  pulse,  which  furnishes  a  great 
part  of  their  provisions.  Their  time  for  repose 
and  recreation  is  at  sunset,  when,  the  labors  of  the 
day  being  ended,  they  gather  together  to  amuse 


themselves  with  petty  games,  or  hold  gossiping 
convocations  on  the  tops  of  their  lodges. 

As  to  the  Indian,  he  is  a  game  animal,  not  to  be 
degraded  by  useful  or  menial  toil.  It  is  enough 
that  he  exposes  himself  to  the  Hardships  of  the 
chase  and  the  perils  of  war  ;  that  he  brings  home 
food  for  his  family,  and  watches  and  fights  for  its 
protection.  Everything  else  is  beneath  his  atten- 
tion. When  at  home  he  attends  only  to  his  weap- 
ons and  his  horses,  preparing  the  means  of  future 
exploit.  Or  he  engages  with  his  comrades  in 
games  of  dexterity,  agility,  and  strength  ;  or  in 
gambling  games  in  which  everything  is  put  at 
hazard,  with  a  recklessness  seldom  witnessed  in 
civilized  life. 

A  great  part  of  the  idle  leisure  of  the  Indians 
when  at  home  is  passed  in  groups,  squatted  to- 
gether on  the  bank  of  a  river,  on  the  top  of  a 
mound  on  the  prairie,  or  on  the  roof  of  one  of  their 
earth-covered  lodges,  talking  over  the  news  of  the 
day,  the  affairs  of  the  tribe,  the  events  and  ex- 
ploits of  their  last  hunting  or  fighting  expedition  ; 
or  listening  to  the  stories  of  old  times  told  by 
some  veteran  chronicler  ;  resembling  a  group  of 
our  village  quidnuncs  and  politicians,  listening;  to 
the  prosings  of  some  superannuated  oracle,  or 
discussing  the  contents  of  an  ancient  newspaper. 

As  to  the  Indian  women,  they  are  far  from  com- 
plaining of  their  lot.  On  the  contrary,  they 
would  despise  their  husbands  could  they  stoop  to 
any  menial  office,  and  would  think  it  conveyed  an 
imputation  upon  their  own  conduct.  It  is  the 
worst  insult  one  virago  can  cast  upon  another  in 
a  moment  of  altercation.  "  Infamous  woman  !" 
will  she  cry,  "  I  have  seen  your  husband  carrying 
wood  into  his  lodge  to  make  the  fire.  Where  was 
his  squaw  that  he  should  be  obliged  to  make  a 
woman  of  himself  ?" 

Mr.  Hunt  and  his  fellow-travellers  had  not  been 
many  days  at  the  Arickara  village,  when  rumors 
began  to  circulate  that  the  Sioux  had  followed 
them  up,  and  that  a  war  party,  four  or  five  hun- 
dred in  number,  were  lurking  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood.  These  rumors  produced  much 
embarrassment  in  the  camp.  The  white  hunters 
were  deterred  from  venturing  forth  in  quest  of 
game,  neither  did  the  leaders  think  it  proper  to 
expose  them  to  such  risk.  The  Arickaras,  too, 
who  had  suffered  greatly  in  their  wars  with  this 
cruel  and  ferocious  tribe,  were  roused  to  increas- 
ed vigilance,  and  stationed  mounted  scouts  upon 
the  neighboring  hills.  This,  however,  is  a  gen- 
eral precaution  among  the  tribes  of  the  prairies. 
Those  immense  plains  present  a  horizon  like  the 
ocean,  so  that  any  object  of  importance  can  be 
descried  afar,  and  information  communicated  to 
a  great  distance.  The  scouts  are  stationed  on 
the  hills,  therefore,  to  look  out  both  for  game  and 
for  enemies,  and  are,  in  a  manner,  living  tele- 
graphs conveying  their  intelligence  by  concerted 
signs.  If  they  wish  to  give  notice  of  a  herd  of 
buffalo  in  the  plain  beyond,  they  gallop  backward 
and  forward  abreast,  on  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
If  they  perceive  an  enemy  at  hand,  they  gallop  to 
and  fro,  crossing  each  other  ;  at  sight  of  which 
the  whole  village  flies  to  arms. 

Such  an  alarm  was  given  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
1 5th.  Four  scouts  were  seen  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  each  other  at  full  gallop,  on  the  summit 
of  a  hill  about  two  miles  distant  down  the  river. 
The  cry  was  up  that  the  Sioux  were  coming.  In 
an  instant  the  village  was  in  an  uproar.  Men, 
women,  and  children  were  all  brawling  and 
shouting  ;  dogs  barking,  yelping,  and  howling. 
Some  of  the  warriors  ran  for  the  horses  to  gather 


354 


ASTORIA. 


and  drive  them  in  from  the  prairie,  some  for  their 
weapons.  As  fast  as  they  could  arm  and  equip 
they  sallied  forth  ;  some  on  horseback,  some  on 
foot.  Some  hastily  arrayed  in  their  war  dress, 
with  coronets  of  fluttering  feathers,  and  their  bod- 
ies smeared  with  paint  ;  others  naked  and  only 
furnished  with  the  weapons  they  had  snatched 
up.  The  women  and  children  gathered  on  the 
tops  of  the  lodges  and  heightened  the  con- 
fusion of  the  scene  by  their  vociferation.  Old 
men  who  could  no  longer  bear  arms  took 
similar  stations,  and  harangued  the  warriors  as 
they  passed,  exhorting  them  to  valorous  deeds. 
Some  of  the  veterans  took  arms  themselves,  and 
sallied  forthwith  tottering  steps.  In  this  way,  the 
savage  chivalry  of  the  village  to  the  number  of  five 
hundred,  poured  forth,  helter-skelter,  riding  and 
running,  with  hideous  yells  and  war-whoops,  like 
so  many  bedlamites  or  demoniacs  let  loose. 

After  a  while  the  tide  of  war  rolled  back,  but 
with  far  less  uproar.  Either  it  had  been  a  false 
alarm,  or  the  enemy  had  retreated  on  finding 
themselves  discovered,  and  quiet  was  restored  to 
the  village.  The  white  hunters  continuing  to  be 
fearful  of  ranging  this  dangerous  neighborhood, 
fresh  provisions  began  to  be  scarce  in  the  camp. 
As  a  substitute,  therefore,  for  venison  and  buffalo 
meat,  the  travellers  had  to  purchase  a  number  of 
dogs  to  be  shot  and  cooked  for  the  supply  of  the 
camp.  Fortunately,  however  chary  the  Indians 
might  be  of  their  horses,  they  were  liberal  of  their 
dogs.  In  fact,  these  animals  swarm  about  an  In- 
dian village  as  they  do  about  a  Turkish  town. 
Not  a  family  but  has  two  or  three  dozen  belong- 
ing to  it  of  all  sizes  and  colors  ;  some,  of  a  su- 
perior breed,  are  used  for  hunting  ;  others,  to 
draw  the  sledge,  while  others,  of  a  mongrel  breed, 
and  idle  vagabond  nature,  are  fattened  for  food.  • 
They  are  supposed  to  be  descended  from  the  wolf, 
and  retain  something  of  his  savage  but  cowardly 
temper,  howling  rather  than  barking  ;  showing 
their  teeth  and  snarling  on  the  slightest  provoca- 
tion, but  sneaking  away  on  the  least  attack. 

The  excitement  of  the  village  continued  from 
day  to  day.  On  the  day  following  the  alarm  just 
mentioned,  several  parties  arrived  from  different 
directions,  and  were  met  and  conducted  by  some 
of  the  braves  to  the  council  lodge,  where  they  re- 
ported the  events  and  success  of  their  expeditions, 
whether  of  war  or  hunting  ;  which  news  was  after- 
ward promulgated  throughout  the  village,  by  cer- 
tain old  men  who  acted  as  heralds  or  town  criers. 
Among  the  parties  which  arrived  was  one  that 
had  been  among  the  Snake  nation  stealing  horses, 
and  returned  crowned  with  success.  As  they 
passed  in  triumph  through  the  village  they  were 
cheered  by  the  men,  women,  and  children,  col- 
lected as  usual  on  the  tops  of  the  lodges,  and 
were  exhorted  by  the  Nestors  of  the  village  to  be 
generous  in  their  dealings  with  the  white  men. 

The  evening  was  spent  in  feasting  and  rejoic- 
ing among  the  relations  of  the  successful  war- 
riors ;  but  sounds  of  grief  and  wailing  were  heard 
from  the  hills  adjacent  to  the  village  :  the  lamen- 
tations of  women  who  had  lost  some  relative  in 
the  foray. 

An  Indian  village  is  subject  to  continual  agita- 
tions and  excitements.  The  next  day  arrived  a 
deputation  of  braves  from  the  Cheyenne  or  Shi- 
enne  nation  ;  a  broken  tribe,  cut  up,  like  the 
Arickaras,  by  wars  with  the  Sioux,  and  driven  to 
take  refuge  among  the  Black  Hills,  near  the 
sources  of  the  Cheyenne  River,  from  which  they 
derive  their  name.  One  of  these  deputies  was 
magnificently  arrayed  in  a  buffalo  robe,  on  which 


various  figures  were  fancifully  embroidered  with 
split  quills  dyed  red  and  yellow  ;  and  the  whole 
was  fringed  with  the  slender  hoofs  of  young  fawns, 
that  rattled  as  he  walked. 

The  arrival  of  this  deputation  was  the  signal 
for  another  of  those  ceremonials  which  occupy  so 
much  of  Indian  life  ;  for  no  being  is  more  courtly 
and  punctilious,  and  more  observing  of  etiquette 
and  formality  than  an  American  savage. 

The  object  of  the  deputation  was  to  give  notice 
of  an  intended  visit  of  the  Shienne  (or  Cheyenne) 
tribe  to  the  Arickara  village  in  the  course  of  fifteen 
days.  To  this  visit  Mr.  Hunt  looked  forward,  to 
procure  additional  horses  for  his  journey  ;  all  his 
bargaining  being  ineffectual  in  obtaining  a  suf- 
ficient supply  from  the  Arickaras.  Indeed  noth- 
ing could  prevail  upon  the  latter  to  part  with  their 
prime  horses,  which  had  been  trained  to  buffalo 
hunting. 

As  Mr.  Hunt  would  have  to  abandon  his  boats 
at  this  place,  Mr.  Lisa  now  offered  to  purchase 
them,  and  such  of  his  merchandise  as  was  super- 
fluous, and  to  pay  him  in  horses,  to  be  obtained 
at  a  fort  belonging  to  the  Missouri  Fur  Com- 
pany, situated  at  the  Mandan  villages,  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  further  up  the  river.  A 
bargain  was  promptly  made,  and  Mr.  Lisa  and 
Mr.  Crooks,  with  several  companions,  set  out  for 
the  fort  to  procure  the  horses.  They  returned, 
after  upward  of  a  fortnight's  absence,  bringing 
with  them  the  stipulated  number  of  horses.  Still 
the  cavalry  was  not  sufficiently  numerous  to  con- 
vey the  party  and  the  baggage  and  merchandise, 
and  a  few  days  more  were  required  to  complete 
the  arrangements  for  the  journey. 

On  the  gth  of  July,  just  before  daybreak,  a  great 
noise  and  vociferation  was  heard  in  the  village. 
This  being  the  usual  Indian  hour  of  attack  and 
surprise,  and  the  Sioux  being  known  to  be  in  the 
neighborhood,  the  camp  was  instantly  on  the 
alert.  As  the  day  broke  Indians  were  descried 
in  considerable  number  on  the  bluffs,  three  or  four 
miles  down  the  river.  The  noise  and  agitation  in 
the  village  continued.  The  tops  of  the  lodges  were 
crowded  with  the  inhabitants,  all  earnestly  look- 
ing toward  the  hills,  and  keeping  up  a  vehement 
chattering.  Presently  an  Indian  warrior  galloped 
past  the  camp  toward  the  village,  and  in  a  little 
while  the  legions  began  to  pour  forth. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was  now  ascertained. 
The  Indians  upon  the  distant  hills  were  three  hun- 
dred Arickara  braves  returning  from  a  foray. 
They  had  met  the  war  party  of  Sioux  who  had 
been  so  long  hovering  about  the  neighborhood, 
had  fought  them  the  -day  before,  killed  several, 
and  defeated  the  rest  with  the  loss  of  but  two  or 
three  of  their  own  men  and  about  a  dozen  wound- 
ed ;  and  they  were  now  halting  at  a  distance  until 
their  comrades  in  the  village  should  come  forth  to 
meet  them,  and  swell  the  parade  of  their  trium- 
phal entry.  The  warrior  who  had  galloped  past 
the  camp  was  the  leader  of  the  party  hastening 
home  to  give  tidings  of  his  victory. 

Preparations  were  now  made  for  this  great 
martial  ceremony.  All  the  finery  and  equipments 
of  the  warriors  were  sent  forth  to  them,  that  they 
might  appear  to  the  greatest  advantage.  Those, 
too,  who  had  remained  at  home,  tasked  their 
wardrobes  and  toilets  to  do  honor  to  the  proces- 
sion. 

The  Arickaras  generally  go  naked,  but,  like  all 
savages,  they  have  their  gala  dress,  of  which  they 
are  not  a  little  vain.  This  usually  consists  oi  a 
gray  surcoat  and  leggins  of  the  dressed  skin  of  the 
antelope,  resembling  chamois  leather,  and  em- 


ASTORIA. 


355 


broiclered  with  porcupine  quills  brilliantly  dyed. 
A  buffalo  robe  is  thrown  over  the  right  shoulder, 
and  across  the  left  is  slung  a  quiver  of  arrows. 
They  wear  gay  coronets  of  plumes,  particularly 
those  of  the  swan  ;  but  the  feathers  of  the  black 
eagle  are  considered  the  most  worthy,  being  a  sa- 
cred bird  among  the  Indian  warriors.  He  who 
has  killed  an  enemy  in  his  own  land  is  entitled  to 
drag-  at  his  heels  a  fox-skin  attached  to  each  moc- 
cason  ;  and  he  who  has  slain  a  grizzly  bear  wears 
a  necklace  of  his  claws,  the  most  glorious  trophy 
that  a  hunter  can  exhibit. 

An  Indian  toilet  is  an  operation  of  some  toil  and 
trouble  :  the  warrior  often  has  to  paint  himself 
from  head  to  foot,  and  is  extremely  capricious  and 
difficult  to  please,  as  to  the  hideous  distribution  of 
streaks  and  colors.  A  great  part  of  the  morning, 
therefore,  passed  away  before  there  were  any 
signs  of  the  distant  pageant.  In  the  mean  time  a 
profound  stillness  reigned  over  the  village.  Most 
of  the  inhabitants  had  gone  forth  ;  others  remain- 
ed in  mute  expectation.  All  sports  and  occupa- 
tions were  suspended,  excepting  that  in  the  lodges 
the  painstaking  squaws  were  silently  busied  in 
preparing  the  repasts  for  the  warriors. 

It  was  near  noon  that  a  mingled  sound  of  voices 
and  rude  music,  faintly  heard  from  a  distance, 
gave  notice  that  the  procession  was  on  the  march. 
The  old  men  and  such  of  the  squaws  as  could  leave 
their  employments  hastened  forth  to  meet  it.  In 
a  little  while  it  emerged  from  behind  a  hill,  and 
had  a  wild  and  picturesque  appearance  as  it  came 
moving  over  the  summit  in  measured  step,  and  to 
the  cadence  of  songs  and  savage  instruments  ;  the 
warlike  standards  and  trophies  flaunting  aloft,  and 
the  feathers,  and  paint,  and  silver  ornaments  of 
the  warriors  glaring  and  glittering  in  the  sun- 
shine. 

The  pageant  had  really  something  chivalrous 
in  its  arrangement.  The  Arickaras  are  divided 
into  several  bands,  each  bearing  the  name  of  some 
animal  or  bird,  as  the  buffalo,  the  bear,  the  dog, 
the  pheasant.  The  present  party  consisted  of 
four  of  these  bands,  one  of  which  was  the  dog,  the 
most  esteemed  in  war,  being  composed  of  young 
men  under  thirty,  and  noted  for  prowess.  It  is 
engaged  on  the  most  desperate  occasions.  The 
bands  marched  in  separate  bodies  under  their 
several  leaders.  The  warriors  on  foot  came  first, 
in  platoons  of  ten  or  twelve  abreast  ;  then  the 
horsemen.  Each  band  bore  as  an  ensign  a  spear 
or  bow  decorated  with  beads,  porcupine  quills, 
and  painted  feathers.  Each  bore  its  trophies  of 
scalps,  elevated  on  poles,  their  long  black  locks 
streaming  in  the  wind.  Each  was  accompanied 
by  its  rude  music  and  minstrelsy.  In  this  way 
the  procession  extended  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
The  warriors  were  variously  armed,  some  few 
with  guns,  others  with  bows  and  arrows,  and  war 
clubs  ;  all  had  shields  of  buffalo  hide,  a  kind  of 
defence  generally  used  by  the  Indians  of  the  open 
prairies,  who  have  not  the  covert  of  trees  and  for- 
ests to  protect  them.  They  were  painted  in  the 
most  savage  style.  Some  had  the  stamp  of  a  red 
hand  across  their  mouths,  a  sign  that  they  had 
drunk  the  life-blood  of  a  foe  ! 

As  they  drew  near  to  the  village  the  old  men 
and  the  women  began  to  meet  them,  and  now  a 
scene  ensued  that  proved  the  fallacy  of  the  old  fa- 
ble of  Indian  apathy  and  stoicism.  Parents  and 
children,  husbands  and  wives,  brothers  and  sisters 
met  with  the  most  rapturous  expressions  of  joy  ; 
while  wailings  and  lamentations  were  heard  from 
the  relatives  of  the  killed  and  wounded.  The 
procession,  however,  continued  on  with  slow  and 


measured  step,  in  cadence  to  the  solemn  chant, 
and  the  warriors  maintained  their  fixed  and  stern 
demeanor. 

Between  two  of  the  principal  chiefs  rode  a  young 
warrior  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  bat- 
tle. He  was  severely  wounded,  so  as  with  diffi- 
culty to  keep  on  his  horse  ;  but  he  preserved  a 
serene  and  steadfast  countenance,  as  if  perfectly 
unharmed.  His  mother  had  heard  of  his  condi- 
tion. She  broke  through  the  throng,  and  rushing 
up,  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  wept  aloud. 
He  kept  up  the  spirit  and  demeanor  of  a  warrior 
to  the  last,  but  expired  shortly  after  he  had  reached 
his  home. 

The  village  was  now  a  scene  of  the  utmost  festiv- 
ity and  triumph.  The  banners,  and  trophies,  and 
scalps,  and  painted  shields  were  elevated  on  poles 
near  the  lodges.  There  were  war  feasts  and 
scalp-dances,  with  warlike  songs  and  savage 
music  ;  all  the  inhabitants  were  arrayed  in  their 
festal  dresses  ;  while  the  old  heralds  went  round 
from  lodge  to  lodge,  promulgating  with  loud 
voices  the  events  of  the  battle  and  the  exploits  of 
the  various  warriors. 

Such  was  the  boisterous  revelry  of  the  village  ; 
but  sounds  of  another  kind  were  heard  on  the  sur- 
rounding hills  ;  piteous  wailings  of  the  women, 
who  had  retired  thither  to  mourn  in  darkness  and 
solitude  for  those  who  had  fallen  in  battle.  There 
the  pour  mother  of  the  youthlul  warrior  who  had 
returned  home  in  triumph  but  to  die,  gave  full 
vent  to  the  anguish  of  a  mother's  heart.  How 
much  does  this  custom  among  the  Indian  women 
of  repairing  to  the  hill  tops  in  the  night,  and  pour- 
ing forth  their  wailings  for  the  dead,  call  to  mind 
the  beautiful  and  affecting  passage  of  Scripture, 
"  In  Rama  was  there  a  voice  heard,  lamentation, 
and  weeping,  and  great  mourning,  Rachel  weep- 
ing for  her  children,  and  would  not  be  comforted, 
because  they  are  not." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

WHILE  Mr.  Hunt  was  diligently  preparing  for 
his  arduous  journey,  some  of  his  men  began  to 
lose  heart  at  the  perilous  prospect  before  them  ; 
but,  before  we  accuse  them  of  want  of  spirit,  it 
is  proper  to  consider  the  nature  of  the  wilderness 
into  which  they  were  about  to  adventure.  It  was 
a  region  almost  as  vast  and  trackless  as  the 
ocean,  and,  at  the  time  of  which  we  treat,  but  lit- 
tle known,  excepting  through  the  vague  accounts 
of  Indian  hunters.  A  part  of  their  route  would 
lay  across  an  immense  tract,  stretching  north  and 
south  for  hundreds  of  miles  along  the  foot  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  drained  by  the  tributary 
streams  of  the  Missouri  and  the  Mississippi. 
This  region,  which  resemble  one  of  the  immeasur- 
able steppes  of  Asia,  has  not  inaptly  been  termed 
"the  great  American  desert."  It  spreads  forth 
into  undulating  and  treeless  plains,  and  desolate 
sandy  wastes,  wearisome  to  the  eye  from  their 
extent  and  monotony,  and  which  are  supposed  by 
geologists  to  have  formed  the  ancient  floor  of  the 
ocean,  countless  ages  since,  when  its  primeval 
waves  beat  against  the  granite  bases  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

It  is  a  land  where  no  man  permanently  abides  ; 
for,  in  certain  seasons  of  the  year  there  is  no  food 
either  for  the  hunter  or  his  steed.  The  herbage 
is  parched  and  withered  ;  the  brooks  and  streams 
are  dried  up  ;  the  buffalo,  the  elk,  and  the  deer 
have  wandered  to  distant  parts,  keeping,  withiij 


356 


ASTORIA. 


the  verge  of  expiring  verdure,  and  leaving  be- 
hind them  a  vast  uninhabited  solitude,  seamed  by 
ravines,  the  beds  ot  former  torrents,  but  now  serv- 
ing only  to  tantalize  and  increase  the  thirst  of  the 
traveller. 

Occasionally  the  monotony  of  this  vast  wilder- 
ness is  interrupted  by  mountainous  belts  of  sand 
and  limestone,  broken  into  confused  masses  ;  with 
precipitous  cliffs  and  yawning  ravines,  looking 
like  the  ruins  ot  a  world  ;  or  is  traversed  by  lofty 
and  barren  ridges  of  rock,  almost  impassable, 
like  those  denominated  the  Black  Hills.  Beyond 
these  rise  the  stern  barriers  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, the  limits,  as  it  were,  of  the  Atlantic  world. 
The  rugged  defiles  and  deep  valleys  of  this  vast 
chain  form  sheltering  places  for  restless  and  fero- 
cious bands  of  savages,  many  ot  them  the  rem- 
nants of  tribes  once  inhabitants  of  the  prairies, 
but  broken  up  by  war  and  violence,  and  who  carry 
into  their  mountain  haunts  the  fierce  passions  and 
reckless  habits  of  desperadoes. 

Such  is  the  nature  of  this  immense  wilderness 
of  the  far  West  ;  which  apparently  defies  cultiva- 
tion, and  the  habitation  of  civilized  life.  Some 
portions  of  it  along  the  rivers  may  partially  be 
subdued  by  agriculture,  others  may  form  vast 
pastoral  tracts,  like  those  of  the  East ;  but  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  a  great  part  of  it  will  form  a  law- 
less interval  between  the  abodes  of  civilized  man, 
like  the  wastes  of  the  ocean  or  the  deserts  of  Ara- 
bia ;  and,  like  them,  be  subject  to  the  depreda- 
tions of  the  marauder.  Here  may  spring  up  new 
and  mongrel  races,  like  new  formations  in  geol- 
ogy, the  amalgamation  of  the  "  debris"  and 
"  abrasions"  of  former  races,  civilized  and  sav- 
age ;  the  remains  of  broken  and  almost  extin- 
guished tribes  ;  the  descendants  of  wandering 
hunters  and  trappers  ;  of  fugitives  from  the  Span- 
ish and  American  frontiers  ;  of  adventurers  and 
desperadoes  of  every  class  and  country,  yearly 
ejected  from  the  bosom  of  society  into  the  wilder- 
ness. We  are  contributing  incessantly  to  swell 
this  singular  and  heterogeneous  cloud  of  wild  pop- 
ulation that  is  to  hang  about  our  frontier,  by  the 
transfer  of  whole  tribes  of  savages  from  the  east 
of  the  Mississippi  to  the  great  wastes  of  the  far 
West.  Many  of  these  bear  with  them  the  smart 
of  real  or  fancied  injuries  ;  many  consider  them- 
selves expatriated  beings,  wrongfully  exiled  from 
their  hereditary  homes  and  the  sepulchres  of  their 
fathers,  and  cherish  a  deep  and  abiding  animosity 
against  the  race  that  has  dispossessed  them.  Some 
may  gradually  become  pastoral  hordes,  like  those 
rude  and  migratory  people,  half  shepherd,  half 
warrior,  who,  with  their  flocks  and  herds,  roam 
the  plains  of  upper  Asia  ;  but  others,  it  is  to  be 
apprehended,  will  become  predatory  bands, 
mounted  on  the  fleet  steeds  of  the  prairies,  with 
the  open  plains  for  their  marauding  grounds,  and 
the  mountains  tor  their  retreats  and  lurking- 
places.  Here  they  may  resemble  those  great  hordes 
of  the  North — "  Gog  and  Magog  with  their 
bands,"  that  haunted  the  gloomy  imaginations  of 
the  prophets.  "  A  great  company  and  a  mighty 
host,  all  riding  upon  horses,  and  warring  upon 
those  nations  which  were  at  rest,  and  dwelt  peace- 
ably, and  had  gotten  cattle  and  goods." 

The  Spaniards  changed  the  whole  character 
and  habits  of  the  Indians  when  they  brought  the 
horse  among  them.  In  Chili,  Tucuman,  and 
other  parts,  it  has  converted  them,  we  are  told, 
into  Tartar-like  tribes,  and  enabled  them  to  keep 
the  Spaniards  out  of  their  country,  and  even  to 
make  it  dangerous  for  them  to  venture  far  from 
their  towns  and  settltments.  Are  we  not  in  dan- 


ger of  producing  some  such  state  of  things  in  the 
boundless  regions  of  the  far  West  ?  That  these 
are  not  mere  fanciful  and  extravagant  suggestions 
we  have  sufficient  proofs  in  the  dangers  already 
experienced  by  the  traders  to  the  Spanish  mart  of 
Santa  F6,  and  to  the  distant  posts  of  the  fur  com- 
panies. These  are  obliged  to  proceed  in  armed 
caravans,  and  are  subject  to  murderous  attacks 
from  bands  of  Pawnees,  Camanches,  and  Black- 
feet,  that  come  scouring  upon  them  in  their  weary 
march  across  the  plains  or  lie  in  wait  for  them 
among  the  passes  of  the  mountains. 

We  are  wandering,  however,  into  excursive 
speculations,  when  our  intention  was  merely  to 
give  an  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  wilderness  which 
Mr.  Hunt  was  about  to  traverse,  and  which  at 
that  time  was  far  less  known  than  at  present, 
though  it  still  remains  in  a  great  measure  an  un- 
known land.  We  cannot  be  surprised,  therefore, 
that  some  of  the. least  resolute  of  his  party  should 
feel  dismay  at  the  thoughts  of  adventuring  into 
this  perilous  wilderness,  under  the  uncertain  guid- 
ance of  three  hunters,  who  had  merely  passed 
once  through  the  country  and  might  have  forgot- 
ten the  landmarks.  Their  apprehensions  were 
aggravated  by  some  of  Lisa's  followers,  who,  not 
being  engaged  in  the  expedition,  took  a  mischiev- 
ous pleasure  in  exaggerating  its  dangers.  They 
painted  in  strong  colors,  to  the  poor  Canadian 
voyageurs,  the  risk  they  would  run  ot  perishing 
with  hunger  and  thirst  ;  of  being  cut  off  by  war- 
parties  of  the  Sioux  who  scoured  the  plains  ;  of 
having  their  horses  stolen  by  the  Upsarokas  or 
Crows,  who  infested  the  skirts  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  ;  or  of  being'  butchered  by  the  Black- 
feet,  who  lurked  among  the  defiles.  In  a  word, 
there  was  little  chance  of  their  getting  alive  across 
the  mountains  ;  and  even  it  they  did,  those  three 
guides  knew  nothing  of  the  howling  wilderness 
that  lay  beyond. 

The  apprehensions  thus  awakened  in  the  minds 
of  some  ot  the  men  came  well-nigh  proving  detri- 
mental to  the  expedition.  Some  of  them  deter- 
mined to  desert,  and  to  make  their  way  back  to 
St.  Louis.  They  accordingly  purloined  several 
weapons  and  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  as  ammuni- 
tion for  their  enterprise,  and  buried  them  in  the 
river  bank,  intending  to  seize  one  of  the  boats 
and  make  off  in  the  night.  Fortunately  their  plot 
was  overheard  by  John  Day,  the  Kentuckian,  and 
communicated  to  the  partners, who  took  quiet  and 
effectual  means  to  frustrate  it. 

The  dangers  to  be  apprehended  from  the  Crow 
Indians  had  not  been  overrated  by  the  camp  gos- 
sips. These  savages,  through  whose  mountain 
haunts  the  party  would  have  to  pass,  were  noted 
for  daring  and  excursive  habits,  and  great  dexter- 
ity in  horse  stealing.  Mr.  Hunt,  therefore,  con- 
sidered himself  fortunate  in  having  met  with  a 
man  who  might  be  of  great  use  to  him  in  any  in- 
tercourse he  might  have  with  the  tribe.  This  was 
a  wandering  individual,  named  Edward  Rose, 
whom  he  had  picked  up  somewhere  on  the  Mis- 
souri— one  of  those  anomalous  beings  found  on 
the  frontier,  who  seem  to  have  neither  kin  nor 
country.  He  had  lived  some  time  among  the 
Crows,  so  as  to  become  acquainted  with  their 
language  and  customs  ;  and  was,  withal,  a  dog- 
ged, sullen,  silent  fellow,  with  a  sinister  aspect, 
and  more  of  the  savage  than  the  civilized  man  in 
his  appearance.  He  was  engaged  to  serve  in  gen- 
eral as  a  hunter,  but  as  guide  and  interpreter 
when  they  should  reach  the  country  ot  the  Crows. 

On  the  i8th  of  July  Mr.  Hunt  took  up  his  line 
of  march  by  land  from  the  Arickara  village,  leav- 


ASTORIA. 


357 


ing  Mr.  Lisa  and  Mr.  Nuttall  there,  where  they 
intended  to  await  the  expected  arrival  of  Mr. 
Henry  from  the  Rocky  Mountains.  As  to  Messrs. 
Bradbury  and  Breckenridge,  they  had  departed, 
some  days  previously,  on  a  voyage  down  the  river 
to  St.  Louis,  with  a  detachment  from  Mr.  Lisa's 
party.  With  all  his  exertions,  Mr.  Hunt  had  been 
unable  to  obtain  a  sufficient  number  of  horses  for 
the  accommodation  of  all  his  people.  His  caval- 
cade consisted  ol  eighty-two  horses,  most  of  them 
heavily  laden  with  Indian  goods,  beaver  traps, 
ammunition,  Indian  corn,  corn  meal,  and  other 
necessaries.  Each  of  the  partners  was  mounted, 
and  a  horse  was  allotted  to  the  interpreter,  Pierre 
Uorion,  for  the  transportation  of  his  luggage  and 
his  two  children.  His  squaw,  for  the  most  part  of 
the  time,  trudged  on  foot,  like  the  residue  of  the 
party  ;  nor  did  any  of  the  men  show  more  patience 
and  fortitude  than  this  resolute  woman  in  endur- 
ing fatigue  and  hardship. 

The  veteran  trappers  and  voyageurs  of  Lisa's 
party  shook  their  heads  as  their  comrades  set  out, 
and  took  leave  of  them  as  of  doomed  men  ;  and 
even  Lisa  himself  gave  it  as  his  opinion,  after  the 
travellers  had  departed,  that  they  would  never 
reach  the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  but  would  either 
perish  with  hunger  in  the  wilderness,  or  be  cut 
off  by  the  savages. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  course  taken  by  Mr.  Hunt  was  at  first  to 
the  northwest,  but  soon  turned  and  kept  generally 
to  the  southwest,  to  avoid  the  country  infested  by 
the  Blackfeet.  His  route  took  him  across  some  of 
the  tributary  streams  of  the  Missouri,  and  o.ver  im- 
mense prairies,  bounded  only  by  the  horizon,  and 
destitute  of  trees.  It  was  now  the  height  of  sum- 
mer, and  these  naked  plains  would  be  intolerable 
to  the  traveller  were  it  not  for  the  breezes  which 
sweep  over  them  during  the  fervor  of  the  day, 
bringing  with  them  tempering  airs  from  the  dis- 
tant mountains.  To  the  prevalence  of  these 
breezes,  and  to  the  want  of  all  leafy  covert,  may 
we  also  attribute  the  freedom  from  those  flies  and 
other  insects  so  tormenting  to  man  and  beast  dur- 
ing the  summer  months,  in  the  lower  plains,  which 
are  bordered  and  interspersed  with  woodland. 

The  monotony  of  these  immense  landscapes, 
also,  would  be  as  wearisome  as  that  of  the  ocean, 
were  it  not  relieved  in  some  degree  by  the  purity 
and  elasticity  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  beauty  of 
the  heavens.  The  sky  has  that  delicious  blue  for 
which  the  sky  of  Italy  is  renowned  ;  the  sun  shines 
with  a  splendor,  unobscured  by  any  cloud  or  va- 
por, and  a  starlight  night  on  the  prairies  is  glori- 
ous. This  purity  and  elasticity  of  atmosphere  in- 
creases as  the  traveller  approaches  the  mountains, 
and  gradually  rises  into  more  elevated  prairies. 

On  the  second  day  of  the  journey  Mr.  Hunt  ar- 
ranged the  party  into  small  and  convenient 
messes,  distributing  among  them  the  camp  ket- 
tles. The  encampments  at  night  were  as  before  : 
some  sleeping  under  tents,  and  others  bivouack- 
ing in  the  open  air.  The  Canadians  proved  as 
patient  of  toil  and  hardship  on  the  land  as  on  the 
water  ;  indeed,  nothing  could  surpass  the  patience 
and  good-humor  of  these  men  upon  the  march. 
They  were  the  cheerful  drudges  of  the  party,  load- 
ing and  unloading  the  horses,  pitching  the  tents, 
making  the  fires,  cooking  ;  in  short,  performing 
all  those  household  and  menial  offices  which  the 
Indians  usually  assign  to  the  squaws  ;  and,  like  the 
squaws,  they  left  all  the  hunting  and  fighting  to 


others.     A  Canadian  has  but  little  affection  for 
the  exercise  of  the  rifle. 

The  progress  of  the  party  was  but  slow  for  the 
first  few  days.  Some  of  the  men  were  indisposed  ; 
Mr.  Crooks,  especially,  was  so  unwell  that  he 
could  not  keep  on  his  horse.  A  rude  kind  of  litter 
was  therefore  prepared  for  him,  consisting  of 
two  long  poles,  fixed,  one  on  each  side  of  two 
horses,  with  a  matting  between  them,  on  which 
he  reclined  at  full  length,  and  was  protected  from 
the  sun  by  a  canopy  of  boughs. 

On  the  evening  of  the  23d  (July)  they  encamped 
on  the  banks  of  what  they  term  Big  River  ;  and 
here  we  cannot  but  pause  to  lament  the  stupid, 
commonplace,  and  often  ribald  names  entailed 
upon  the  rivers  and  other  features  of  the  great 
West,  by  traders  and  settlers.  As  the  aboriginal 
tribes  of  these  magnificent  regions  are  yet  in  ex- 
istence, the  Indian  names  might  easily  be  recover- 
ed ;  which,  besides  being  in  general  more  sonorous 
and  musical,  would  remain  mementoes  of  the 
primitive  lords  of  the  soil,  of  whom  in  a  little  while 
scarce  any  traces  will  be  left.  Indeed,  it  is  to  be 
wished  that  the  whole  of  our  country  could  be  res- 
cued, as  much  as  possible,  from  the  wretched 
nomenclature  inflicted  upon  it  by  ignorant  and 
vulgar  minds  ;  and  this  might  be  done,  in  a  great 
degree,  by  restoring  the  Indian  names,  wherever 
significant  and  euphonious.  As  there  appears  to 
be  a  spirit  of  research  abroad  in  respect  to  our 
aboriginal  antiquities,  we  would  suggest,  as  a 
worthy  object  of  enterprise,  a  map  or  maps,  of 
every  part  of  our  country,  giving  the  Indian  names 
wherever  they  could  be  ascertained.  \Vhoever 
achieves  such  an  object  worthily,  will  leave  a 
monument  to  his  own  reputation. 

To  return  from  this  digression.  As  the  travel- 
lers were  now  in  a  country  abounding  with  buffa-- 
lo,  they  remained  for  several  days  encamped  upon 
the  banks  of  Big  River,  to  obtain  a  supply  of  pro- 
visions, and  to  give  the  invalids  time  to  recruit. 

On  the  second  day  of  their  sojourn,  as  Ben  Jones, 
John  Day,  and  others  of  the  hunters  were  in  pur- 
suit of  game,  they  came  upon  an  Indian  camp  on 
the  open  prairie,  near  to  a  small  stream  which  ran 
through  a  ravine.  The  tents  or  lodges  were  of 
dressed  buffalo  skins,  sewn  together  and  stretched 
on  tapering  pine  poles,  joined  at  top,  but  radia- 
ting at  bottom,  so  as  to  form  a  circle  capable  of 
admitting  fifty  persons.  Numbers  of  horses  were 
grazing  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  camp,  or  stray- 
ing at  large  in  the  prairie  ;  a  sight  most  accepta- 
ble to  the  hunters.  After  reconnoitring  the  camp 
for  some  time  they  ascertained  it  to  belong  to  a 
band  of  Cheyenne  Indians,  the  same  that  had  sent 
a  deputation  to  the  Arickaras.  They  received  the 
hunters  in  the  most  friendly  manner  ;  invited  them 
to  their  lodges,  which  were  more  cleanly  than  In- 
dian lodges  are  prone  to  be,  and  set  food  before 
them  with  true  uncivilized  hospitality.  Several  of 
them  accompanied  the  hunters  back  to  the  camp, 
when  a  trade  was  immediately  opened.  The 
Cheyennes  were  astonished  and  delighted  to  find 
a  convoy  of  goods  and  trinkets  thus  brought  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  prairie  ;  while  Mr.  Hunt  and 
his  companions  were  overjoyed  to  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  obtaining  a  further  supply  of  horses  frosi 
these  equestrian  savages. 

During  a  fortnight  that  the  travellers  lingered 
at  this  place,  their  encampment  was  continually 
thronged  by  the  Cheyennes.  They  were  a  civil,  • 
well-behaved  people,  cleanly  in  their  persons 
and  decorous  in  their  habits.  The  men  were  tall, 
straight,  and  vigorous,  with  aquiline  noses  and 
high  cheek  bones.  Some  were  almost  as  naked  as 


358 


ASTORIA. 


ancient  statues,  and  might  have  stood  as  models 
for  statuary  ;  others  had  leggins  and  moccasons  of 
deer  skin,  and  buffalo  robes,  which  they  threw 
gracefully  over  their  shoulders.  In  a  little  while, 
however,  they  began  to  appear  in  more  gorgeous 
array,  tricked  out  in  the  finery  obtained  from  the 
white  men — bright  cloths,  brass  rings,  beads  of 
various  colors,  and  happy  was  he  who  could  ren- 
der himself  hideous  with  vermilion. 

The  travellers  had  frequent  occasion  to  admire 
the  skill  and  grace  with  which  these  Indians  man- 
aged their  horses.  Some  of  them  made  a  striking 
display  when  mounted,  themselves  and  their 
steeds  decorated  in  gala  style  ;  for  the  Indians 
often  bestow  more  finery  upon  their  horses  than 
upon  themselves.  Some  would  hang  round  the 
necks,  or  rather  on  the  breasts  of  their  horses,  the 
most  precious  ornaments  they  had  obtained  from 
the  white  men  ;  others  interwove  feathers  in  their 
manes  and  tails.  The  Indian  horses,  too,  appear 
to  have  an  attachment  to  their  wild  riders,  and  in- 
deed it  is  said  that  the  horses  of  the  prairies  read- 
ily distinguish  an  Indian  from  a  white  man  by  the 
smell,  and  give  a  preference  to  the  former.  Yet 
the  Indians,  in  general,  are  hard  riders,  and,  how- 
ever they  may  value  their  horses,  treat  them  with 
great  roughness  and  neglect.  Occasionally  the 
Cheyennes  joined  the  white  hunters  in  pursuit  of 
the  elk  and  buffalo  ;  and  when  in  the  ardor  of  the 
chase,  spared  neither  themselves  nor  their  steeds, 
scouring  the  prairies  at  full  speed,  and  plunging 
down  precipices  and  frightful  ravines  that  threat- 
ened the  necks  of  both  horse  and  horseman.  The 
Indian  steed,  well  trained  to  the  chase,  seems  as 
mad  as  his  rider,  and  pursues  the  game  as  eagerly 
as  if  it  were  his  natural  prey,  on  the  flesh  of 
which  he  was  to  banquet. 

The  history  of  the  Cheyennes  is  that  of  many  of 
those  wandering  tribes  of  the  prairies.  They  were 
the  remnant  of  a  once  powerful  people  called  the 
Shaways,  inhabiting  a  branch  of  the  Red  River 
which  flows  into  Lake  Winnipeg.  Every  Indian 
tribe  has  some  rival  tribe  with  which  it  wages  im- 
placable hostility.  The  deadly  enemies  of  the 
Shaways  were  the  Sioux,  who,  after  a  long  course 
of  warfare,  proved  too  powerful  for  them,  and 
drove  them  across  the  Missouri.  They  again  took 
root  near  the  Warricanne  Creek,  and  established 
themselves  there  in  a  fortified  village. 

The  Sioux  still  followed  them  with  deadly  ani- 
mosity ;  dislodged  them  from  their  village,  and 
compelled  them  to  take  refuge  in  the  Black  Hills, 
near  the  upper  waters  of  the  Sheyenne  or  Chey- 
enne River.  Here  they  lost  even  their  name,  and 
became  known  among  the  French  colonists  by  that 
of  the  river  they  frequented. 

The  heart  of  the  tribe  was  now  broken  ;  its 
.numbers  were  greatly  thinned  by  their  harassing 
wars.  They  no  longer  attempted  to  establish 
themselves  in  any  permanent  abode  that  might 
be  an  object  of  attack  to  their  cruel  foes.  They 
gave  up  the  cultivation  of  the  fruits  of  the  earth, 
and  became  a  wandering  tribe,  subsisting  by  the 
chase,  and  following  the  buffalo  in  its  migrations. 

Their  only  possessions  were  horses,  which  they 
caught  on  the  prairies,  or  reared,  or  captured  on 
predatory  incursions  into  the  Mexican  territories, 
as  has  already  been  mentioned.  With  some  of 
these  they  repaired  once  a  year  to  the  Arickara  vil- 
lages, exchanged  them  for  corn,  beans,  pumpkins, 
and  articles  of  European  merchandise,  and  then 
returned  into  the  heart  of  the  prairies. 

Such  are  the  fluctuating  fortunes  of  these  savage 
rations.  War,  famine,  pestilence,  together  or 
singly,  bring  down  their  strength  and  thin  their 


numbers.  Whole  tribes  are  rooted  up  from  their 
native  places,  wander  for  a  time  about  these  im- 
mense regions,  become  amalgamated  with  other 
tribes,  or  disappear  from'  the  face  of  the  earth. 
There  appears  to  be  a  tendency  to  extinction 
among  all  the  savage  nations  ;  and  this  tendency 
would  seem  to  have  been  in  operation  among  the 
aboriginals  of  this  country  long  before  the  advent 
of  the  white  men,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  traces 
and  traditions  of  ancient  populousness  in  regions 
which  were  silent  and  deserted  at  the  time  of  the 
discovery  ;  and  from  the  mysterious  and  perplex- 
ing vestiges  of  unknown  races,  predecessors  of 
those  found  in  actual  possession,  and  who  must 
long  since  have  become  gradually  extinguished  or 
been  destroyed.  The  whole  history  of  the  aborig- 
inal population  of  this  country,  however,  is  an 
enigma,  and  a  grand  one — will  it  ever  be  solved  ? 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON  the  sixth  of  August  the  travellers  bade  fare- 
well to  the  friendly  band  of  Cheyennes  and  re- 
sumed their  journey.  As  they  had  obtained  thirty- 
six  additional  horses  by  their  recent  traffic,  Mr. 
Hunt  made  a  new  arrangement.  The  baggage 
was  made  up  in  smaller  loads.  A  horse  was  al- 
lotted to  each  of  the  six  prime  hunters,  and  others 
were  distributed  among  the  voyageurs,  a  horse  for 
every  two,  so  that  they  could  ride  and  walk  alter- 
nately. Mr.  Crooks,  being  still  too  feeble  to  mount 
the  saddle,  was  carried  on  a  litter.  ' 

Their  march  this  day  lay  among  singular  hills 
and  knolls  of  an  indurated  red  earth,  resembling 
brick,  about  the  bases  of  which  were  scattered 
pumice  stones  and  cinders,  the  whole  bearing 
traces  of  the  action  of  fire.  In  the  evening  they 
encamped  on  a  branch  of  Big  River. 

They  were  now  out  of  the  tract  of  country  in- 
fested by  the  Sioux,  and  had  advanced  such  a  dis- 
tance into  the  interior  that  Mr.  Hunt  no  longer 
felt  apprehensive  of  the  desertion  of  any  of  his 
men.  He  was  doomed,  however,  to  experience 
new  cause  of  anxiety.  As  he  was  seated,  in  his 
tent  after  nightfall,  one  of  the  men  came  to  him 
privately,  and  informed  him  that  there  was  mis- 
chief brewing  in  the  camp.  Edward  Rose,  the 
interpreter,  whose  sinister  looks  we  have  already 
mentioned,  was  denounced  by  this  secret  informer 
as  a  designing,  treacherous  scoundrel,  who  was 
tampering  with  the  fidelity  of  certain  of  the  men, 
and  instigating  them  to  a  flagrant  piece  of  treason. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  days  they  would  arrive  at 
the  mountainous  distric  infested  by  the  Upsarokas 
or  Crows,  the  tribe  among  which  Rose  was  to 
officiate  as  interpreter.  His  plan  was  that  several 
of  the  men  should  join  with  him,  when  in  that 
neighborhood,  in  carrying  off  a  number  of  the 
horses  with  their  packages  of  goods,  and  deserting 
to  those  savages.  He  assured  them  of  good  treat- 
ment among  the  Crows,  the  principal  chiefs  and 
warriors  of  whom  he  knew  ;  they  would  soon  be- 
come great  men  among  them,  and  have  the  finest 
women,  and  the  daughters  of  the  chieis,  for  wives  ; 
and  the  horses  and  goods  they  carried  off  would 
make  them  rich  for  life. 

The  intelligence  of  this  treachery  on  the  part  of 
Rose  gave  much  disquiet  to  Mr.  Hunt,  for  he 
knew  not  how  far  it  might  be  effective  among  his 
men.  He  had  already  had  prools  that  several  of 
them  were  disaffected  to  the  enterprise,  and  loath 
to  cross  the  mountains.  He  knew  also  that  savage 
life  had  charms  for  many  of  them,  especially  the 


ASTORIA. 


359 


Canadians,  who  were  prone  to  intermarry  and 
domesticate  themselves  among  the  Indians. 

And  here  a  word  or  two  concerning  the  Crows 
may  be  of  service  to  the  reader,  as  they  will  figure 
occasionally  in  the  succeeding  narration. 

The  tribe  consists  of  four  bands,  which  have 
their  nestling-places  in  fertile, well-wooded  valleys, 
lying  among  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  watered 
by  the  Big  Horse  River  and  its  tributary  streams  ; 
but,  though  these  are  properly  their  homes,  where 
they  shelter  their  old  people,  their  wives,  and  their 
children,  the  men  of  the  tribe  are  almost  continually 
on  the  foray  and  the  scamper.  They  are,  in  fact, 
notorious  marauders  and  horse-stealers  ;  crossing 
and  recrossing  the  mountains,  robbing  on  the  one 
side,  and  conveying  their  spoils  to  the  other. 
Hence,  we  are  told,  is  derived  their  name,  given 
to  them  on  account  of  their  unsettled  and  preda- 
tory habits  ;  winging  their  flight,  like  the  crows, 
from  one  side  of  the  mountains  to  the  other,  and 
making  free  booty  of  everything  that  lies  in  their 
way.  Horses,  however,  are  the  especial  objects 
of  their  depredations,  and  their  skill  and  audacity 
in  stealing  them  are  said  to  be  astonishing.  This 
is  their  glory  and  delight  ;  an  accomplished  horse- 
stealer  tills  up  their  idea  of  a  hero.  Many  horses 
are  obtained  by  them,  also,  in  barter  from  tribes 
in  and  beyond  the  mountains.  They  have  an  ab- 
solute passion  for  this  noble  animal  ;  besides  which 
he  is  with  them  an  important  object  of  traffic. 
Once  a  year  they  make  a  visit  to  the  Mandans, 
Minatarees,  and  other  tribes  of  the  Missouri,  tak- 
ing with  them  droves  of  horses  which  they  ex- 
change for  guns,  ammunition,  trinkets,  vermilion, 
cloths  of  bright  colors,  and  various  other  articles 
of  European  manufacture.  With  these  they  sup- 
ply their  own  wants  and  caprices,  and  carry  on 
the  internal  trade  for  horses  already  mentioned. 

The  plot  of  Rose  to  rob  and  abandon  his  coun- 
trymen when  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  and  to 
throw  himself  into  the  hands  of  a  horde  of  savages, 
may  appear  strange  and  improbable  to  those  un- 
acquainted with  the  singular  and  anomalous  char- 
acters that  are  to  be  found  about  the  borders. 
This  fellow,  it  appears,  was  one  of  those  desper- 
adoes of  the  frontiers,  outlawed  by  their  crimes, 
who  combine  the  vices  of  civilized  and  savage  life, 
and  are  ten  times  more  barbarous  than  the  In- 
dians with  whom  they  consort.  Rose  had  formerly 
belonged  to  one  of  the  gangs  of  pirates  who  in- 
fested the  islands  of  the  Mississippi,  plundering 
boats  as  they  went  up  and  down  the  river,  and 
who  sometimes  shifted  the  scene  of  their  robberies 
to  the  shore,  waylaying  travellers  as  they  returned 
by  land  from  New  Orleans  with  the  proceeds  of 
their  downward  voyage,  plundering  them  of  their 
money  and  effects,  and  often  perpetrating  the  most 
atrocious  murders. 

These  hordes  of  villains  being  broken  up  and 
dispersed,  Rose  had  betaken  himself  to  the  wilder- 
ness, and  associated  himself  with  the  Crows,  whose 
predatory  habits  were  congenial  with  his  own,  had 
married  a  woman  of  the  tribe,  and,  in  short,  had 
identified  himself  with  those  vagrant  savages. 

Such  was  the  worthy  guide  and  interpreter, 
Edward  Rose.  We  give  his  story,  however,  not 
as  it  was  known  to  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions 
at  the  time,  but  as  it  has  been  subsequently  ascer- 
tained. Enough  was  known  of  the  fellow  and  his 
dark  and  perfidious  character  to  put  Mr.  Hunt 
upon  his  guard  ;  still,  as  there  was  no  knowing 
how  far  his  plans  might  have  succeeded,  and  as 
any  rash  act  might  blow  the  mere  smouldering 
sparks  of  treason  into  a  sudden  blaze,  it  was 
thought  advisable  by  those  with  whom  Mr.  Hunt 


consulted,  to  conceal  all  knowledge  or  suspicion 
of  the  meditated  treachery,  but  to  keep  up  a  vigi- 
lant watch  upon  the  movements  of  Rose,  and  a 
strict  guard  upon  the  horses  at  night. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

THE  plains  over  which  the  travellers  were  jour- 
neying  continued  to  be  destitute  of  trees  or  even 
shrubs  ;  insomuch  that  they  had  to  use  the  dung 
of  the  buffalo  for  fuel,  as  the  Arabs  of  the  desert 
use  that  of  the  camel.  This  substitute  for  fuel  is 
universal  among  the  Indians  of  these  upper  prai- 
ries, and  is  said  to  make  a  fire  equal  to  that  of  turf. 
If  a  few  chips  are  added,  it  throws  out  a  cheerful 
and  kindly  blaze. 

These  plains,  however,  had  not  always  been 
equally  destitute  of  wood,  as  was  evident  from  the 
trunks  of  the  trees  which  the  travellers  repeatedly 
met  with,  some  still  standing,  others  lying  about 
in  broken  fragments,  but  all  in  a  fossil  state, 
having  flourished  in  times  long  past.  In  these 
singular  remains,  the  original  grain  of  the  wood 
was  still  so  distinct  that  they  could  be  ascertained 
to  be  the  ruins  of  oak  trees.  Several  pieces  of  the 
fossil  wood  were  selected  by  the  men  to  serve  as 
whetstones. 

In  this  part  of  the  journey  there  was  no  lack  of 
provisions,  for  the  prairies  were  covered  with  im- 
mense herds  of  buffalo.  These,  in  general,  are 
animals  of  peaceful  demeanor,  grazing  quietly  like 
domestic  cattle  ;  but  this  was  the  season  when 
they  are  in  heat,  and  when  the  bulls  are  usually 
fierce  and  pugnacious.  There  was  accordingly  a 
universal  restlessness  and  commotion  throughout 
the  plain  ;  and  the  amorous  herds  gave  utter- 
ance to  their  feelings  in  low  bellowings  that  re- 
sounded like  distant  thunder.  Here  and  there 
fierce  duellos  too  place  between  rival  enamora- 
dos  ;  butting  their  huge  shagged  fronts  together, 
goring  each  other  with  their  short  black  horns, 
and  tearing  up  the  earth  with  their  feet  in  perfect 
fury. 

In  one  of  the  evening  halts,  Pierre  Dorion,  the 
interpreter,  together  with  Carson  and  Gardpie,  two 
of  the  hunters,  were  missing,  nor  had  they  return- 
ed by  morning.  As  it  was  supposed  they  had 
wandered  away  in  pursuit  of  buffalo,  and  would 
readily  find  the  track  of  the  party,  no  solicitude 
was  felt  on  their  account.  A  fire  was  left  burn- 
ing, to  guide  them  by  its  column  of  smoke,  and 
the  travellers  proceeded  on  their  march.  In  the 
evening  a  signal  fire  was  made  on  a  hill  adja- 
cent to  the  camp,  and  in  the  morning  it  was  re- 
plenished with  fuel  so  as  to  last  throughout  the 
day.  These  signals  are  usual  among  the  Indians, 
to  give  warnings  to  each  other,  or  to  call  home 
straggling  hunters  ;  and  such  is  the  transparency 
of  the  atmosphere  in  those  elevated  plains,  that  a 
slight  column  of  smoke  can  be  discerned  from  a 
great  distance,  particularly  in  the  evenings.  Two 
or  three  days  elapsed,  however,  without  the  reap- 
pearance of  the  three  hunters  ;  and  Mr.  Hunt 
slackened  his  march  to  give  them  time  to  overtake 
him. 

A  vigilant  watch  continued  to  be  kept  upon  the 
movements  of  Rose,  and  of  such  of  the  men  as 
were  considered  doubtful  in  their  loyalty  ;  but 
nothing  occurred  to  excite  immediate  apprehen- 
sions. Rose  evidently  was  not  a  favorite  among 
his  comrades,  and  it  was  hoped  that  he  had  not 
been  able  to  make  any  real  partisans. 

On  the   loth  of  August  they  encamped  among 


ASTORIA. 


hills,  on  the  highest  peak  of  which  Mr.  Hunt 
caused  a  huge  pyre  of  pine  wood  to  be  made, 
which  soon  sent  up  a  great  column  of  flame  that 
might  be  seen  far  and  wide  over  the  prairies.  This 
lire  blazed  all  night  and  was  amply  replenished  at 
daybreak  ;  so  that  the  towering  pillar  of  smoke 
could  not  but  be  descried  by  the  wanderers  if 
within  the  distance  of  a  day's  journey. 

It  is  a  common  occurrence  in  these  regions, 
where  the  features  of  the  country  so  much  resem- 
ble each  other,  for  hunters  to  lose  themselves  and 
wander  for  many  days,  before  they  can  find  their 
way  back  to  the  main  body  of  their  party.  In  the 
present  instance,  however,  a  more  than  common 
solicitude  was  felt,  in  consequence  of  the  distrust 
awakened  by  the  sinister  designs  of  Rose. 

The  route  now  became  excessively  toilsome, 
over  a  ridge  of  steep  rocky  hills,  covered  with 
loose  stones.  These  were  intersected  by  deep  val- 
leys, formed  by  two  branches  of  Big  River,  com- 
ing from  the  south  of  west,  both  of  which  they 
crossed.  These  streams  were  bordered  by  mead- 
ows, well  stocked  with  buffaloes.  Loads  of  meat 
were  brought  in  by  the  hunters  ;  but  the  travel- 
lers were  rendered  dainty  by  profusion,  and  would 
cook  only  the  choice  pieces. 

They  had  now  travelled  for  several  days  at  a 
very  slow  rate,  and  had  made  signal  fires  and  left 
traces  of  their  route  at  every  stage,  yet  nothing 
was  heard  or  seen  of  the  lost  men.  It  began  to  be 
feared  that  they  might  have  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  some  lurking  band  of  savages.  A  party  nu- 
merous as  that  of  Mr.  Hunt,  with  a  long  train  of 
pack-horses,  moving  across  open  plains  or  naked 
hills,  is  discoverable  at  a  great  distance  by  Indian 
scouts,  who  spread  the  intelligence  rapidly  to  va- 
rious points,  and  assemble  their  friends  to  hang 
about  the  skirts  of  the  travellers,  steal  their 
horses,  or  cut  off  any  stragglers  from  the  main 
body. 

Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions  were  more  and 
more  sensible  how  much  it  would  be  in  the  power 
of  this  sullen  and  daring  vagabond  Rose,  to  do 
them  mischief,  when  they  should  become  entan- 
gled in  the  defiles  of  the  mountains,  with  the 
passes  of  which  they  were  wholly  unacquainted, 
and  which  were  infested  by  his  freebooting  friends, 
the  Crows.  There,  should  he  succeed  in  seducing 
some  of  the  party  into  his  plans,  he  might  carry 
off  the  best  horses  and  effects,  throw  himself 
among  his  savage  allies,  and  set  all  pursuit  at 
defiance.  Mr.  Hunt  resolved  therefore  to  frus- 
trate the  knave,  divert  him,  by  management,  from 
his  plans,  and  make  it  sufficiently  advantageous 
for  him  to  remain  honest.  He  took  occasion  ac- 
cordingly, in  the  course  of  conversation,  to  in- 
form Rose  that,  having  engaged  him  chiefly  as  a 
guide  and  interpreter  through  the  country  ot  the 
Crows,  they  would  not  stand  in  need  of  his  ser- 
vices beyond.  Knowing,  therefore,  his  connec- 
tion by  marriage  with  that  tribe,  and  his  predilec- 
tion for  a  residence  among  them,  they  would  put 
no  restraint  upon  his  will,  but,  whenever  they  met 
with  a  party  of  that  people,  would  leave  h'im  at 
liberty  to  remain  among  his  adopted  brethren. 
Furthermore,  that,  in  thus  parting  with  him,  they 
would  pay  him  half  a  year's  wages  in  considera- 
tion of  his  past  services,  and  would  give  him  a 
horse,  three  beaver  traps,  and  sundry  other  arti- 
cles calculated  to  set  him  up  in  the  world. 

This  unexpected  liberality,  which  made  it  nearly 
as  profitable  and  infinitely  less  hazardous  for 
Rose  to  remain  honest  than  to  play  the  rogue, 
completely  disarmed  him.  From  that  time  his 
whole  deportment  underwent  a  change.  His  brow 


cleared  up  and  appeared  more  cheerful  ;  he  left 
off  his  sullen,  skulking  habits,  and  made  no  fur- 
ther attempts  to  tamper  with  the  faith  of  his  com- 
rades. 

On  the  1 3th  of  August  Mr.  Hunt  varied  his 
course,  and  inclined  westward,  in  hopes  of  fall- 
ing in  with  the  three  lost  hunters,  who,  it  was 
now  thought,  might  have  kept  to  the  right  hand 
of  Big  River.  This  course  soon  brought  him 
to  a  fork  of  the  Little  Missouri,  about  a  hundred 
yards  wide,  and  resembling  the  great  river  of  the 
same  name  in  the  strength  of  its  current,  its  tur- 
bid water,  and  the  frequency  of  drift-wood  and 
sunken  trees. 

Rugged  mountains  appeared  ahead,  crowding 
down  to  the  water  edge,  and  offering  a  barrier  to 
further  progress  on  the  side  they  were  ascending. 
Crossing  the  river,  therefore,  they  encamped  on 
its  northwest  bank,  where  they  found  good  pas- 
turage and  buffalo  in  abundance.  The  weather 
was  overcast  and  rainy,  and  a  general  gloom  per- 
vaded the  camp  ;  the  voyageurs  sat  smoking  in 
groups,  with  their  shoulders  as  high  as  their 
heads,  croaking  their  forebodings,  when  suddenly 
toward  evening  a  shout  of  joy  gave  notice  that 
the  lost  men  were  found.  They  came  slowly  lag- 
ging into  the  camp,  with  weary  looks,  and  horses 
laded  and  wayworn.  They  had,  in  fact,  been 
for  several  days  incessantly  on  the  move.  In 
their  hunting  excursion  on  the  prairies  they  had 
pushed  so  far  in  pursuit  of  buffalo  as  to  find  it 
impossible  to  retrace  their  steps  over  plains  tram- 
pled by  innumerable  herds,  and  were  baffled  by 
the  monotony  of  the  landscape  in  their  attempts 
to  recall  landmarks.  They  had  ridden  to  and  fro 
until  they  had  almost  lost  the  points  of  the  com- 
pass, and  become  totally  bewildered  ;  nor  did 
they  ever  perceive  any  ot  the  signal  fires  and  col- 
umns of  smoke  made  by  their  comrades.  At 
length,  about  two  days  previously,  when  almost 
spent  by  anxiety  and  hard  riding,  they  came,  to 
their  great  joy,  upon  the  "trail"  of  the  party, 
which  they  had  since  followed  up  steadily. 

Those  only  who  have  experienced  the  warm 
cordiality  that  grows  up  between  comrades  in 
wild  and  adventurous  expeditions  of  the  kind, 
can  picture  to  themselves  the  hearty  cheering 
with  which  the  stragglers  were  welcomed  to  the 
camp.  Every  one  crowded  round  them  to  ask 
questions,  and  to  hear  the  story  of  their  mishaps  ; 
and  even  the  squaw  of  the  moody  half-breed, 
Pierre  Dorion,  forgot  the  sternness  of  his  domestic 
rule,  and  the  conjugal  discipline  of  the  cudgel,  in 
her  joy  at  his  safe  return. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

MR.  HUNT  and  his  party  were  now  on  the  skirts 
of  the  Black  Hills,  or  Black  Mountains,  as  they 
are  sometimes  called  ;  an  extensive  chain,  lying 
about  a  hundred  miles  east  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, and  stretching  in  a  northeast  direction  from 
the  south  fork  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte  River, 
to  the  great  north  bend  of  the  Missouri.  The 
Sierra  or  ridge  of  the  Black  Hills,  in  fact,  forms 
the  dividing  line  between  the  waters  of  the  Mis- 
souri and  those  of  the  Arkansas  and  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  gives  rise  to  the  Cheyenne,  the  Little 
Missouri,  and  several  tributary  streams  of  the 
Yellowstone. 

The  wild  recesses  of  these  hills,  like  those  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  are  retreats  and  lurking- 
places  for  broken  and  predatory  tribes,  and  it 


ASTORIA. 


361 


was  among  them  that  the  remnant  of  the  Chey- 
enne tribe  took  refuge,  as  has  been  stated,  from 
their  conquering  enemies,  the  Sioux. 

The  Black  Hills  are  chiefly  composed  of  sand- 
stone, and  in  many  places  are  broken  into  savage 
cliffs  and  precipices,  and  present  the  most  singu- 
lar and  fantastic  forms  ;  sometimes  resembling 
towns  and  castellated  fortresses.  The  ignorant 
inhabitants  of  plains  are  prone  to  clothe  the 
mountains  that  bound  their  horizon  with  fanciful 
and  superstitious  attributes.  Thus  the  wandering 
tribes  of  the  prairies,  who  often  behold  clouds 
gathering  round  the  summits  of  these  hills,  and 
lightning  flashing,  and  thunder  pealing  from 
them,  when  all  the  neighboring  plains  are  serene 
and  sunny,  consider  them  the  abode  of  the  genii 
or  thunder-spirits,  who  fabricate  storms  and  tem- 
pests. On  entering  their  defiles,  therefore,  they 
often  hang  offerings  on  the  trees,  or  place  them 
on  the  rocks,  to  propitiate  the  invisible  "  lords  of 
the  mountains,"  and  procure  good  weather  and 
successful  hunting  ;  and  they  attach  unusual  sig- 
nificance to  the  echoes  which  haunt  the  preci- 
pices. This  superstition  may  also  have  arisen,  in 
part,  from  a  natural  phenomenon  of  a  singular 
nature.  In  the  most  calm  and  serene  weather, 
and  at  all  times  of  the  day  or  night,  successive  re- 
ports are  now  and  then  heard  among  these  moun- 
tains, resembling  the  discharge  of  several  pieces 
of  artillery.  Similar  reports  were  heard  by 
Messrs.  Lewis  and  Clarke  in  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
which  they  say  were  attributed  by  the  Indians  to 
the  bursting  of  the  rich  mines  of  silver  contained 
in  the  bosom  of  the  mountains. 

In  fact  these  singular  explosions  have  received 
fanciful  explanations  from  learned  men,  and  have 
not  been  satisfactorily  accounted  for  even  by  phi- 
losophers. They  are  said  to  occur  frequently  in 
Brazil.  Vasconcelles,  a  Jesuit  father,  describes 
one  which  he  heard  in  the  Sierra,  or  mountain  re-i 
gion  of  Piratininga,  and  which  he  compares  to 
the  discharges  of  a  park  of  artillery.  The  In- 
dians told  him  that  it  was  an  explosion  of  stones. 
The  worthy  father  had  soon  a  satisfactory  proof 
of  the  truth  of  their  information,  for  the  very 
place  was  found  where  a  rock  had  burst  and  ex- 
ploded from  its  entrails  a  stony  mass,  like  a 
bomb-shell,  and  of  the  size  of  a  bull's  heart. 
This  mass  was  broken  either  in  its  ejection  or 
its  fall,  and  wonderful  was  the  internal  organiza- 
tion revealed.  It  had  a  shell  harder  even  than 
iron  ;  within  which  were  arranged,  like  the  seeds 
of  a  pomegranate,  jewels  of  various  colors  ;  some 
transparent  as  crystal  ;  others  of  a  fine  red,  and 
others  of  mixed  hues.  The  same  phenomenon  is 
said  to  occur  occasionally  in  the  adjacent  province 
of.  Guayra,  where  stones  of  the  bigness  of  a 
man's  hand  are  exploded,  with  a  loud  noise,  from 
the  bosom  of  the  earth,  and  scatter  about  glitter- 
ing and  beautiful  fragments  that  look  like  precious 
gems,  but  are  of  no  value. 

The  Indians  of  the  Orellanna,  also,  tell  of  hor- 
rible noises  heard  occasionally  in  the  Paraguaxo, 
which  they  consider  the  throes  and  groans  of  the 
mountain,  endeavoring  to  cast  forth  the  precious 
stones  hidden  within  its  entrails.  Others  have 
endeavored  to  account  for  these  discharges  of 
"mountain  artillery"  on  humbler  principles; 
attributing  them  to  the  loud  reports  made  by  the 
disruption  and  fall  of  great  masses  of  rock,  rever- 
berated and  prolonged  by  the  echoes  ;  others,  to 
the  disengagement  of  hydrogen,  produced  by 
subterraneous  beds  of  coal  in  a  state  of  ignition. 
In  whatever  way  this  singular  phenomenon  may- 
be accounted  for,  the  existence  of  it  appears  to  be 


well  established.  It  remains  one  of  the  lingering 
mysteries  of  nature  which  throw  something  of  a 
supernatural  charm  over  her  wild  mountain  soli- 
tudes ;  and  we  doubt  whether  the  imaginative 
reader  will  not  rather  join  with  the  poor  Indian 
in  attributing  it  to  the  thunder-spirits,  or  the  guar- 
dian genii  of  unseen  treasures,  than  to  any  com- 
monplace physical  cause. 

Whatever  might  be  the  supernatural  influences 
among  these  mountains,  the  travellers  found  their 
physical  difficulties  hard  to  cope  with.  They 
made  repeated  attempts  to  find  a  passage  through 
or  over  the  chain,  but  were  as  often  turned  back 
by  impassable  barriers.  Sometimes  a  defile 
seemed  to  open  a  practicable  path,  but  it  would 
terminate  in  some  wild  chaos  of  rocks  and  cliffs, 
which  it  was  impossible  to  climb.  The  animals 
of  these  solitary  regions  were  different  from  those 
they  had  been  accustomed  to.  The  black-tailed 
deer  would  bound  up  the  ravines  on  their  ap- 
proach, and  the  bighorn  would  gaze  fearlessly 
down  upon  them  from  some  impending  precipice, 
or  skip  playfully  from  rock  to  rock.  These  ani- 
mals are  only  to  be  met  with  in  mountainous  re- 
gions. The  former  is  larger  than  the  common 
deer,  but  its  flesh  is  not  equally  esteemed  by  hunt- 
ers. It  has  very  large  ears,  and  the  tip  of  the 
tail  is  black,  from  which  it  derives  its  name. 

The  bighorn  is  so  named  from  its  horns, 
which  are  of  a  great  size,  and  twisted  like  those 
of  a  ram.  It  is  called  by  some  the  argali,  by 
others,  the  ibex,  though  differing  from  both  of 
these  animals.  The  Mandans  call  it  the  ahsahta, 
a  name  much  better  than  the  clumsy  appellation 
which  it  generally  bears.  It  is  of  the  size  of  a 
small  elk,  or  large  deer,  gjid  of  a  dun  color,  ex- 
cepting the  belly  and  round  the  tail,  where  it  is 
white.  In  its  habits  it  resembles  the  goat,  fre- 
quenting the  rudest  precipices  ;  cropping  the 
herbage  from  their  edges  ;  and,  like  the  chamois, 
bounding  lightly  and  securely  among  dizzy  heights, 
where  the  hunter  dares  not  venture.  It  is  diffi- 
cult, therefore,  to  get  within  shot  of  it.  Ben 
Jones  the  hunter,  however,  in  one  of  the  passes  of 
the  Black  Hills,  succeeded  in  bringing  down  a 
bighorn  from  the  verge  of  a  precipice,  the  flesh 
of  which  was  pronounced  by  the  gourmands  of 
the  camp  to  have  the  flavor  of  excellent  mutton. 

Baffled  in  his  attempts  to  traverse  this  moun- 
tain chain,  Mr.  Hunt  skirted  along  it  to  the 
southwest,  keeping  it  on  the  right,  and  stifl  in 
hopes  of  finding  an  opening.  At  an  early  hour 
one  day,  he  encamped  in  a  narrow  valley  on  the 
banks  of  a  beautifully  clear  but  rushy  pool,  sur- 
rounded by  thickets  bearing  abundance  of  wild 
cherries,  currants,  and  yellow  and  purple  goose- 
berries. 

While  the  afternoon's  meal  was  in  preparation, 
Mr.  Hunt  and  Mr.  M'Kenzie  ascended  to  the 
summit  of  the  nearest  hill,  from  whence,  aided  by 
the  purity  and  transparency  of  the  evening  atmos- 
phere, they  commanded  a  vast  prospect  on  all 
sides.  Below  them  extended  a  plain,  dotted  with 
innumerable  herds  of  buffalo.  Some  were  lying 
down  among  the  herbage,  others  roaming  in  their 
unbounded  pastures,  while  many  were  engaged 
in  fierce  contests  like  those  already  described, 
their  low  bellowings  reaching  the  ear  like  the 
hoarse  murmurs  of  the  surf  of  a  distant  shore. 

Far  off  in  the  west  they  descried  a  range  of  lofty 
mountains  printing  the  clear  horizon,  some  of 
them  evidently  capped  with  snow.  These  they 
supposed  to  be  the  Big  Horn  Mountains,  so  called 
from  the  animal  of  that  name,  with  which  they 
abound.  They  are  a  spur  of  the  great  Rocky 


362 


ASTORIA. 


chain.  The  hill  from  whence  Mr.  Hunt  had  this 
prospect  was,  according  to  his  computation,  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  Arickara  vil- 
lage. 

On  returning  to  the  camp  Mr.  Hunt  found 
some  uneasiness  prevailing  among  the  Canadian 
voyageurs.  In  straying  among  the  thickets  they 
had  beheld  tracks  of  grizzly  bears  in  every  direc- 
tion, doubtless  attracted  thither  by  the  fruit.  To 
their  dismay,  they  now  found  that  they  had  en- 
camped in  one  of  the  favorite  resorts  of  this 
dreaded  animal.  The  idea  marred  all  the  com- 
fort of  the  encampment.  As  night  closed,  the  sur- 
rounding thickets  were  peopled  with  terrors  ;  in- 
somuch that,  according  to  Mr.  Hunt,  they  could 
not  help  starting  at  every  little  breeze  that  stirred 
the  bushes. 

The  grizzly  bear  is  the  only  really  formidable 
quadruped  of  our  continent.  He  is  the  favorite 
theme  of  the  hunters  of  the  far  West,  who  de- 
scribe him  as  equal  in  size  to  a  common  cow  and 
of  prodigious  strength.  He  makes  battle  if  as- 
sailed, and  often,  if  pressed  by  hunger,  is  the 
assailant.  If  wounded,  he  becomes  furious  and 
will  pursue  the  hunter.  His  speed  exceeds  that 
of  a  man,  but  is  inferior  to  that  of  a  horse.  In  at- 
tacking he  rears  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  and 
springs  the  length  of  his  body.  Woe  to  horse 
or  rider  that  comes  within  the  sweep  of  his  ter- 
rific claws,  which  are  sometimes  nine  inches  in 
length,  and  tear  everything  before  them. 

At  the  time  we  are  treating  of,  the  grizzly  bear 
was  still  frequent  on  the  Missouri,  and  in  the 
lower  country,  but,  like  some  of  the  broken  tribes 
of  the  prairie,  he  has  gradually  fallen  back  before 
his  enemies,  and  is  now  chiefly  to  be  found  in  the 
upland  regions,  in  rugged  fastnesses,  like  those  of 
the  Black  Hills  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Here 
he  lurks  in  caverns,  or  holes  which  he  has  digged 
in  the  sides  of  hills,  or  under  the  roots  and  trunks 
of  fallen  trees.  Like  the  common  bear  he  is  fond 
of  fruits,  and  mast,  and  roots,  the  latter  of  which 
he  will  dig  up  with  his  fore  claws.  He  is  carniv- 
orous also,  and  will  even  attack  and  conquer  the 
lordly  buffalo,  dragging  his  huge  carcass  to  the 
neighborhood  of  his  den,  that  he  may  prey  upon 
it  at  his  leisure. 

The  hunters,  both  white  and  red  men,  consider 
this  the  most  heroic  game.  They  prefer  to  hunt 
him  on  horseback,  and  will  venture  so  near  as 
sometimes  to  singe  his  hair  with  the  flash  of  the 
rifle.  The  hunter  of  the  grizzly  bear,  however, 
must  be  an  experienced  hand,  and  know  where  to 
aim  at  a  vital  part  ;  for  of  all  quadrupeds  he  is 
the  most  difficult  to  be  killed.  He  will  receive  re- 
peated wounds  without  flinching,  and  rarely  is  a 
shot  mortal  unless  through  the  head  or. heart. 

That  the  dangers  apprehended  from' the  grizzly 
bear,  at  this  night  encampment,  were  not  imagi- 
nary, was  proved  on  the  following  morning. 
Among  the  hired  men  of  the  party  was  one  Will- 
iam Cannon,  who  had  been  a  soldier  at  one  of 
the  frontier  posts,  and  entered  into  the  employ  of 
Mr.  Hunt  at  Mackinaw.  He  was  an  inexperienced 
hunter  and  a  poor  shot,  for  which  he  was  much 
bantered  by  his  more  adroit  comrades.  Piqued  at 
their  raillery,  he  had  been  practising  ever  since 
he  had  joined  the  expedition,  but  without  success. 
In  the  course  of  the  present  afternoon,  he  went 
forth  by  himself  to  take  a  lesson  in  venerie,  and, 
to  his  great  delight,  had  the  good  fortune  to  kill 
a  buffalo.  As  he  was  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  camp,  he  cut  out  the  tongue  and  some  of  the 
choice  bits,  made  them  into  a  parcel,  and,  sling- 
ing them  on  his  shoulders  by  a  strap  passed 


round  his  forehead,  as  the  voyageurs  carry  pack- 
ages of  goods,  set  out  all  glorious  for  the  camp, 
anticipating  a  triumph  over  his  brother  hunters. 
In  passing  through  a  narrow  ravine  he  heard  a 
noise  behind  him,  and  looking  round  beheld,  to 
his  dismay,  a  grizzly  bear  in  full  pursuit,  appar- 
ently attracted  by  the  scent  of  the  meat.  Cannon 
had  heard  so  much  of  the  invulnerability  of  this 
tremendous  animal,  that  he  never  attempted  to 
fire,  but,  slipping  the  strap  from  his  forehead,  let 
go  the  buffalo  meat  and  ran  for  his  lile.  The 
bear  did  not  stop  to  regale  himself  with  the  game, 
but  kept  on  after  the  hunter.  He  had  nearly 
overtaken  him  when  Cannon  reached  a  tree,  and, 
throwing  clown  his  rifle,  scrambled  up  it.  The 
next  instant  Bruin  was  at  the  foot  oi  the  tree  ; 
but,  as  this  species  of  bear  does  not  climb,  he  con- 
tented himself  with  turning  the  chase  into  a  block- 
ade. Night  came  on.  In  the  darkness  Cannon 
could  not  perceive  whether  or  not  the  enemy 
maintained  his  station  ;  but  his  fears  pictured 
him  rigorously  mounting  guard.  He  passed  the 
night,  therefore,  in  the  tree,  a  prey  to  dismal  fan- 
cies. In  the  morning  the  bear  was  gone.  Cannon 
warily  descended  the  tree,  gathered  up  his  gun, 
and  made  the  best  of  his  way  back  to  the  camp, 
without  venturing  to  look  after  his  buffalo  meat. 

While  on  this  theme  we  will  add  another  anec- 
dote ol  an  adventure  with  a  grizzly  bear,  told  of 
John  Day,  the  Kentucky  hunter,  but  which  hap- 
pened at  a  different  period  of  the  expedition. 
Day  was  hunting  in  company  with  one  ot  the  clerks 
of  the  company,  a  lively  youngster,  who  was  a 
great  favorite  with  the  veteran,  but  whose  vivacity 
he  had  continually  to  keep  in  check.  They  were 
in  search  of  deer,  when  suddenly  a  huge  grizzly 
bear  emerged  from  a  thicket  about  thirty  yards 
distant,  rearing  himself  upon  his  hind  legs  with  a 
terrific  growl,  and  displaying  a  hideous  array  of 
teeth  and  claws.  The  rifle  of  the  young  man  was 
levelled  in  an  instant,  but  John  Day's  iron  hand 
was  as  quickly  upon  his  arm.  "  Be  quiet,  boy  ! 
be  quiet  !"  exclaimed  the  hunter,  between  his 
clenched  teeth,  and  without  turning  his  eyes  from 
the  bear.  They  remained  motionless.  The 
monster  regarded  them  for  a  time,  then,  lowering 
himself  on  his  fore  paws,  slowly  withdrew.  He 
had  not  gone  many  paces  before  he  again  turned, 
reared  himself  on  his  hind  legs,  and  repeated 
his  menace.  Day's  hand  was  still  on  the  arm  of 
his  young  companion  ;  he  again  pressed  it  hard, 
and  kept  repeating  between  his  teeth,  "  Quiet, 
boy! — keep  quiet! — keep  quiet!"  though  the 
latter  had  not  made  a  move  since  his  first  prohibi- 
tion. The  bear  again  lowered  himself  on  all 
fours,  retreated  some  twenty  yards  further,  and 
again  turned,  reared,  showed  his  teeth,  and 
growled.  This  third  menace  was  too  much  for 
the  game  spirit  of  John  Day.  "  By  Jove  !"  ex- 
claimed he,  "  I  can  stand  this  no  longer,"  and 
in  an  instant  a  ball  from  his  rifle  whizzed  into  the 
foe.  The  wound  was  not  mortal  ;  but,  luckily,  it 
dismayed  instead  of  enraging  the  animal,  and  he 
retreated  into  the  thicket. 

Day's  young  companion  reproached  him  for  not 
practising  the  caution  which  he  enjoined  upon 
others.  "Why,  boy,"  replied  the  veteran,  "cau- 
tion is  caution,  but  one  must  not  put  up  with  too 
much  even  from  a  bear.  Would  you  have  me 
suffer  myself  to  be  bullied  all  day  by  a  varmint  ?" 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

FOR  the  two  following  days  the  travellers  pur- 
sued a  westerly  course  for  thirty-four  miles  along 


ASTORIA. 


363 


a  ridge  of  country  dividing  the  tributary  waters 
of  the  Missouri  and  the  Yellowstone.  As  land- 
marks they  guided  themselves  by  the  summits  of 
the  far  distant  mountains,  which  they  supposed  to 
belong  to  the  Big  Horn  chain.  They  were  grad- 
ually rising  into  a  higher  temperature,  for  the 
weather  was  cold  for  the  season,  with  a  sharp 
trost  in  the  night,  and  ice  of  an  eighth  of  an  inch 
in  thickness. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  August,  early  in  the 
day,  they  came  upon  the  trail  ol  a  numerous 
band.  Rose  and  the  other  hunters  examined  the 
footprints  with  great  attention,  and  determined  it 
to  be  the  trail  of  a  party  of  Crows  returning  from 
an  annual  trading  visit  to  the  Mandans.  As  this 
trail  afforded  more  commodious  travelling,  they 
immediately  struck  into  it,  and  followed  it  lor  two 
days.  It  led  them  over  rough  hills,  and  through 
broken  gullies,  during  which  time  they  suffered 
great  fatigue  from  the  ruggeclness  of  the  country. 
The  weather,  too,  which  had  recently  been  frosty, 
was  now  oppressively  warm,  and  there  was  a 
great  scarcity  of  water,  insomuch  that  a  valu- 
able dog  belonging  to  Mr.  M'Kenzie  died  of 
thirst. 

At  one  time  they  had  twenty-five  miles  of  pain- 
ful travel,  without  a  drop  of  water,  until  they  ar- 
rived at  a  small  running  stream.  Here  they 
eagerly  slaked  their  thirst  ;  but,  this  being  allay- 
ed, the  calls  of  hunger  became  equally  importu- 
nate. Ever  since  they  had  got  among  these  bar- 
ren and  arid  hills,  where  there  was  a  deficiency 
ot  grass,  they  had  met  with  no  buffaloes,  those 
animals  keeping  in  the  grassy  meadows  near  the 
streams.  They  were  obliged,  therefore,  to  have 
recourse  to  their  corn  meal,  which  they  reserved 
for  such  emergencies.  Some,  however,  were 
lucky  enough  to  kill  a  wolf,  which  they  cooked 
for  supper,  and  pronounced  excellent  food. 

The  next  morning  they  resumed  their  wayfar- 
ing, hungry  and  jaded,  and  had  a  clogged  march 
of  eighteen  miles  among  the  same  kind  of  hills. 
At  length  they  emerged  upon  a  stream  of  clear 
water,  one  of  the  forks  of  Powder  River,  and  to 
their  great  joy  beheld  once  more  wide  grassy 
meadows,  stocked  with  herds  of  buffalo.  For  sev- 
eral days  they  kept  along  the  banks  of  the  river, 
ascending  it  about  eighteen  miles.  It  was  a  hunt- 
er's paradise  ;  the  buffaloes  were  in  such  abun- 
dance that  they  were  enabled  to  kill  as  many  as 
they  pleased,  and  to  jerk  a  sufficient  supply  of 
meat  for  several  days'  journeying.  Here,  then, 
they  revelled  and  reposed  after  their  hungry  and 
weary  travel,  hunting  and  feasting,  and  reclining 
upon  the  grass.  Their  quiet,  however,  was  a  lit- 
tle marred  by  coming  upon  traces  of  Indians,  who, 
they  concluded,  must  be  Crows  ;  they  were  there- 
fore obliged  to  keep  a  more  vigilant  watch  than 
ever  upon  their  horses.  For  several  days  they 
had  been  directing  their  march  toward  the  lofty 
mountain  descried  by  Mr.  Hunt  and  Mr.  M'Ken- 
zie on  the  1 7th  of  August,  the  height  ot  which 
rendered  it  a  landmark  over  a  vast  extent  of 
country.  At  first  it  had  appeared  to  them  soli- 
tary and  detached  ;  but  as  they  advanced  toward 
it,  it  proved  to  be  the  principal  summit  of  a  chain 
of  mountains.  Day  by  day  it  varied  in  form,  or 
rather  its  lower  peaks,  and  the  summits  of  others 
of  the  chain  emerged  above  the  clear  horizon, 
and  finally  the  inferior  line  of  hills  which  con- 
nected most  of  them  rose  to  view.  So  far,  how- 
ever, are  objects  discernible  in  the  pure  atmos- 
phere of  these  elevated  plains,  that,  from  the 
place  where  they  first  descried  the  main  moun- 
tain, they  had  to  travel  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 


before  they  reached  its  base.  Here  they  en- 
camped on  the  thirtieth  of  August,  having  come 
nearly  four  hundred  miles  since  leaving  th« 
Arickara  village. 

The  mountain  which  now  towered  above  them 
was  one  of  the  Big  Horn  chain,  bordered  by  a 
river  of  the  same  name,  and  extending  for  a  long 
distance  rather  east  of  north  and  west  of  south. 
It  was  a  part  of  the  great  system  of  granite 
mountains  which  forms  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant and  striking  features  of  North  America, 
stretching  parallel  to  the  coast  of  the  Pacific 
from  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  almost  to  the  Arc- 
tic Ocean,  and  presenting  a  corresponding  chain 
to  that  of  the  Ancles  in  the  southern  hemisphere. 
This  vast  range  has  acquired,  from  its  rugged 
and  broken  character,  and  its  summits  of  naked 
granite,  the  appellation  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
a  name  by  no  means  distinctive,  as  all  elevated 
ranges  are  rocky.  Among  the  early  explorers  it 
was  known  as  the  range  of  Chippewyan  Moun- 
tains, and  this  Indian  name  is  the  one  it  is  likely 
to  retain  in  poetic  usage.  Rising  from  the  midst 
of  vast  plains  and  prairies,  traversing  several  de- 
grees of  latitude,  dividing  the  waters  of  the  At- 
lantic and  the  Pacific,  and  seeming  to  bind  with 
diverging  ridges  the  level  regions  on  its  flanks,  it 
has  been  figuratively  termed  the  backbone  of  the 
northern  continent. 

The  Rocky  Mountains  do  not  present  a  range 
uf  uniform  elevation,  but  rather  groups  and  occa- 
sionally detached  peaks.  Though  some  of  these 
rise  to  the  region  of  perpetual  snows,  and  are 
upward  of  eleven  thousand  feet  in  real  altitude, 
yet  their  height  from  their  immediate  basis  is  not 
so  great  as  might  be  imagined,  as  they  swell  up 
from  elevated  plains,  several  thousand  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  ocean.  These  plains  are  often  of 
a  desolate  sterility  ;  mere  sandy  wastes,  formed 
of  the  detritus  of  the  granite  heights,  destitute  of 
trees  and  herbage,  scorched  by  the  ardent  and 
reflected  rays  of  the  summer's  sun,  and  in  win- 
ter swept  by  chilling  blasts  from  the  snow-clad 
mountains.  Such  is  a  great  part  of  that  vast  re- 
gion extending  north  and  south  along  the  moun- 
tains, several  hundred  miles  in  width,  which  has 
not  improperly  been  termed  the  Great  American 
Desert.  It  is  a  region  that  almost  discourages  all 
hope  of  cultivation,  and  can  only  be  traversed 
with  safety  by  keeping  near  the  streams  which 
intersect  it.  Extensive  plains  likewise  occur 
among  the  higher  regions  of  the  mountains,  of 
considerable  fertility.  Indeed,  these  lofty  plats 
of  table-land  seem  to  form  a  peculiar  feature  in 
the  American  continents.  Some  occur  among 
the  Cordilleras  of  the  Andes,  where  cities  and 
towns  and  cultivated  farms  are  to  be  seen  eight 
thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

The  Rocky  Mountains,  as  we  have  already  ob- 
served, occur  sometimes  singly  or  in  groups,  and 
occasionally  in  collateral  ridges.  Between  these 
are  deep  valleys,  with  small  streams  winding 
through  them,  which  find  their  way  into  the  lower 
plains,  augmenting  as  they  proceed,  and  ulti- 
mately discharging  themselves  into  those  vast  riv- 
ers which  traverse  the  prairies  like  great  arteries 
and  drain  the  continent. 

While  the  granitic  summits  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  are  bleak  and  bare,  many  of  the  in- 
ferior ridges  are  scantily  clothed  with  scrubbed 
pines,  oaks,  cedar,  and  furze.  Various  parts  of 
the  mountains  also  bear  traces  of  volcanic  action. 
Some  of  the  interior  valleys  are  strewed  with 
scoria  and  broken  stones,  evidently  of  volcanic 
origin  ;  the  surrounding  rocks  bear  the  like  char- 


ASTORIA. 


acter,  and  vestiges  of  extinguished  craters  are  to 
be  seen  on  the  elevated  heights. 

We  have  already  noticed  the  superstitious  feel- 
ings with  which  the  Indians  regard  the  Black 
Hills  ;  but  this  immense  range  of  mountains, 
which  divides  all  that  they  know  of  the  world, 
and  gives  birth  to  such  mighty  rivers,  is  still  more 
an  object  of  awe  and  veneration.  They  call 
it  "the  crest  of  the  world,"  and  think  that 
Wacondah,  or  the  master  of  life,  as  they  desig- 
nate the  Supreme  Being,  has  his  residence  among 
these  aerial  heights.  The  tribes  on  the  eastern 
prairies  call  them  the  mountains  of  the  setting 
sun.  Some  of  them  place  the  "  happy  hunting- 
grounds,"  their  ideal  paradise,  among  the  re- 
cesses of  these  mountains  ;  but  say  they  are  in- 
visible to  living  men.  Here  also  is  the  "  Land 
of  Souls,"  in  which  are  the  "  towns  of  the  free 
and  generous  spirits,"  where  those  who  have 
pleased  the  master  of  life  while  living,  enjoy  after 
death  all  manner  of  delights. 

Wonders  are  told  of  these  mountains  by  the 
distant  tribes,  whose  warriors  or  hunters  have 
ever  wandered  in  their  neighborhood.  It  is 
thought  by  some  that,  after  death,  they  will  have 
to  travel  to  these  mountains  and  ascend  one  of 
their  highest  and  most  rugged  peaks,  among 
rocks,  and  snows,  and  tumbling  torrents.  After 
many  moons  of  -painful  toil  they  will  reach  the 
summit,  from  whence  they  will  have  a  view  over 
the  land  of  souls.  There  they  will  see  the  happy 
hunting-grounds,  with  the  souls  of  the  brave  and 
good  living  in  tents  in  green  meadows,  by  bright 
running  streams,  or  hunting  the  herds  of  buffalo, 
and  elks,  and  deer,  which  have  been  slain  on 
earth.  There,  too,  they  will  see  the  villages  or 
towns  of  the  free  and  generous  spirits  brightening 
in  the  midst  of  delicious  prairies.  If  they  have 
acquitted  themselves  well  while  living,  they  will 
be  permitted  to  descend  and  enjoy  this  happy 
country  ;  if  otherwise,  they  will  but  be  tantalized 
with  this  prospect  of  it,  and  then  hurled  back 
from  the  mountain  to  wander  about  the  sandy 
plains,  and  endure  the  eternal  pangs  of  unsatis- 
fied thirst  and  hunger. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE  travellers  had  now  arrived  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  mountain  regions  infested  by  the  Crow  In- 
dians. These  restless  marauders,  as  has  already 
been  observed,  are  apt  to  be  continually  on  the 
prowl  about  the  skirts  of  the  mountains  ;  and 
even  when  encamped  in  some  deep  and  secluded 
glen,  they  keep  scouts  upon  the  cliffs  and  prom- 
ontories, who,  unseen  themselves,  can  discern 
every  living  thing  that  moves  ojer  the  subjacent 
plains  and  valleys.  It  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  our  travellers  could  pass  unseen  through  a 
region  thus  vigilantly  sentinelled  ;  accordingly, 
in  the  edge  of  the  evening,  not  long  after  they  had 
encamped  at  the  foot  of  the  Big  Horn  Sierra,  a 
couple  of  wild-looking  beings,  scantily  clad  in 
skins,  but  well  armed,  and  mounted  on  horses  as 
wild-looking  as  themselves,  were  seen  approach- 
ing with  great  caution  from  among  the  rocks. 
They  might  have  been  mistaken  for  two  of  the 
evil  spirits  of  the  mountains  so  formidable  in  In- 
dian fable. 

Rose  was  immediately  sent  out  to  hold  a  parley 
with  them,  and  invite  them  to  the  camp.  They 
proved  to  be  two  scouts  from  the  same  band  that 
had  been  tracked  for  some  days  past,  and  which 


was  now  encamped  at  some  distance  in  the  folds 
of  the  mountain.  They  were  easily  prevailed  upon 
to  come  to  the  camp,  where  they  were  well  re- 
ceived, and,  after  remaining  there  until  late  in 
the  evening,  departed  to  make  a  report  of  all  they 
had  seen  and  experienced  to  their  companions. 

The  following  day  had  scarce  dawned  when  a 
troop  of  these  wild  mountain  scamperers  came 
galloping  with  whoops  and  yells  into  the  camp, 
bringing  an  invitation  from  their  chief  for  the  white 
men  to  visit  him.  The  tents  were  accordingly 
struck,  the  horses  laden,  and  the  party  were  soon 
on  the  march.  The  Crow  horsemen,  as  they  escort- 
ed them,  appeared  to  take  pride  in  showing  off  their 
equestrian  skill  and  hardihood  ;  careering  at  full 
speed  on  their  half-savage  steeds,  and  clashing 
among  rocks  and  crags,  and  up  and  clown  the 
most  rugged  and  dangerous  places  with  perfect 
ease  and  unconcern. 

A  ride  of  sixteen  miles  brought  them,  in  the 
afternoon,  in  sight  of  the  Crow  camp.  It  was 
composed  of  leathern  tents,  pitched  in  a  meadow 
on  the  border  of  a  small  clear  stream  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain.  A  great  number  of  horses  were 
grazing  in  the  vicinity,  many  of  them  doubtless 
captured  in  marauding  excursions. 

The  Crow  chieftain  came  forth  to  meet  his 
guests  with  great  professions  of  friendship,  and 
conducted  them  to  his  tents,  pointing  out,  by  the 
way,  a  convenient  place  where  they  might  fix 
their  camp.  No  sooner  had  they  done  so  than 
Mr.  Hunt  opened  some  of  the  packages  and  made 
the  chief  a  present  of  a  scarlet  blanket,  and  a 
quantity  of  powder  and  ball  ;  he  gave  him  also 
some  knives,  trinkets,  and  tobacco  to  be  distrib- 
uted among  his  warriors,  with  all  which  the  grim 
potentate  seemed  for  the  time  well  pleased.  As 
the  Crows,  however,  were  reputed  to  be  perfidious 
in  the  extreme,  and  as  errant  freebooters  as  the 
bird  after  which  they  were  so  worthily  named, 
and  as  their  general  feelings  toward  the  whites 
were  known  to  be  by  no  means  friendly,  the  in- 
tercourse with  them  was  cond.uct.ed  with  great 
circumspection. 

The  following  day  was  passed  in  trading  with 
the  Crows  for  buffalo  robes  and  skins,  and  in 
bartering  galled  and  jaded  horses  for  others  that 
were  in  good  condition.  Some  of  the  men  also 
purchased  horses  on  their  own  account,  so  that 
the  number  now  amounted  to  one  hundred  and 
twenty-one,  most  of  them  sound  and  active  and 
fit  for  mountain  service. 

Their  wants  being  supplied,  they  ceased  all 
further  traffic,  much  to  the  dissatisfaction  of  the 
Crows,  who  became  extremely  urgent  to  continue 
the  trade,  and,  finding  their  importunities  of  no 
avail,  assumed  an  insolent  and  menacing  tone. 
All  this  was  attributed  by  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  as- 
sociates to  the  perfidious  instigations  of  Rose 
the  interpreter,  who  they  suspected  of  the  desire 
to  foment  ill-will  between  them  and  the  savages, 
for  the  promotion  of  his  nefarious  plans.  M' Lei- 
Ian,  with  his  usual  1ra.ncha.nt  mode  of  dealing 
out  justice,  resolved  to  shoot  the  desperado  on 
the  spot  in  case  of  any  outbreak.  Nothing  of  the 
kind,  however,  occurred.  The  Crows  were  prob- 
ably daunted  by  the  resolute  though  quiet  de- 
meanor of  the  white  men,  and  the  constant  vigi- 
lance and  armed  preparations  which  they  main- 
tained ;  and  Rose,  if  he  really  still  harbored  his 
knavish  designs,  must  have  perceived  that  they 
were  suspected,  and,  if  attempted  to  be  carried 
into  effect,  might  bring  ruin  on  his  own  head. 

The  next  morning,  bright  and  early,  Mr.  Hunt 
proposed  to  resume  his  journeying.  He  took  a 


ASTORIA. 


365 


ceremonious  leave  of  the  Crow  chieftain  and  his 
vagabond  warriors,  and,  according-  to  previous 
arrangements,  consigned  to  their  cherishing 
friendship  and  fraternal  adoption  their  worthy 
confederate,  Rose  ;  who,  having  figured  among 
the  water  pirates  of  the  Mississippi,  was  well 
fitted  to  rise  to  distinction  among  the  land  pirates 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

It  is  proper  to  add  that  the  ruffian  was  well  re- 
ceived among  the  tribe,  and  appeared  to  be  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  the  compromise  he  had 
made,  feeling  much  more  at  his  ease  among  sav- 
ages than  among  white  men.  It  is  outcasts  from 
civilization,  fugitives  from  justice,  and  heartless 
desperadoes  of  this  kind,  who  sow  the  seeds  of 
enmity  and  bitterness  among  the  unfortunate 
tribes  of  the  frontier.  There  is  no  enemy  so  im- 
placable against  a  country  or  a  community  as  one 
of  its  own  people  who  has  rendered  himself  an 
alien  by  his  crimes. 

Right  glad  to  be  relieved  from  this  treacherous 
companion,  Mr.  Hunt  pursued  his  course  along 
the  skirts  of  the  mountain,  in  a  southern  direction, 
seeking  for  some  practicable  defile  by  which  he 
might  pass  through  it  ;  none  such  presented, 
however,  in  the  course  of  fifteen  miles,  and  he 
encamped  on  a  small  stream,  still  on  the  outskirts. 
The  green  meadows  which  border  these  moun- 
tain streams  are  generally  well  stocked  with 
game,  and  the  hunters  soon  killed  several  fat  elks, 
which  supplied  the  camp  with  fresh  meat.  In 
the  evening  the  travellers  were  surprised  by  an 
unwelcome  visit  from  several  Crows  belonging  to 
a  different  band  from  that  which  they  had  recently 
left, and  who  said  their  camp  was  among  the  moun- 
tains. The  consciousness  of  being  environed  by 
such  dangerous  neighbors,  and  of  being  still  within 
the  range  of  Rose  and  his  fellow  ruffians,  obliged 
the  party  to  be  continually  on  the  alert.and  to  main- 
tain weary  vigils  throughout  the  night,  lest  they 
should  be  robbed  of  their  horses. 

On  the  third  of  September,  finding  that  the 
mountain  still  stretched  onward,  presenting  a 
continued  barrier,  they  endeavored  to  force  a  pas- 
sage to  the  westward,  but  soon  became  entangled 
among  rocks  and  precipices  which  set  all  their 
efforts  at  defiance.  The  mountain  seemed,  for  the 
most  part,  rugged,  bare,  and  sterile  ;  yet  here  and 
there  it  was  clothed  with  pines  and  with  shrubs  and 
flowering  plants,  some  of  which  were  in  bloom.  In 
toiling  among  these  weary  places  their  thirst  be- 
came excessive,  for  no  water  was  to  be  met  with. 
Numbers  of  the  men  wandered  off  into  rocky  dells 
and  ravines  in  hopes  of  finding  some  brook  or  foun- 
tain ;  some  of  whom  lost  their  way  and  did  not 
rejoin  the  main  party. 

After  half  a  day  of  painful  and  fruitless  scram- 
bling, Mr.  Hunt  gave  up  the  attempt  to  penetrate 
in  this  direction,  and  returning  to  the  little  stream 
on  the  skirts  of  the  mountain,  pitched  his  tents 
within  six  miles  of  his  encampment  of  the  preced- 
ing night.  He  now  ordered  that  signals  should 
be  made  for  the  stragglers  in  quest  of  water,  but 
the  night  passed  away  without  their  return. 

The  next  morning,  to  their  surprise,  Rose  made 
his  appearance  at  the  camp,  accompanied  by 
some  of  his  Crow  associates.  His  unwelcome 
visit  revived  their  suspicions  ;  but  he  announced 
himself  as  a  messenger  of  good-will  from  the 
chief,  who,  finding  they  had  taken  a  wrong  road, 
had  sent  Rose  and  his  companions  to  guide  them 
to  a  nearer  and  better  one  across  the  mountain. 

Having  no  choice,  being  themselves  utterly  at 
fault,  they  set  out  under  this  questionable  escort. 
They  had  not  gone  far  before  they  fell  in  with  the 


whole  party  of  Crows,  who,  they  now  founo,  were 
going  the  same  road  with  themselves.  The  two 
cavalcades  of  white  and  red  men,  therefore,  push- 
ed on  together,  and  presented  a  wild  and  pictu- 
resque spectacle,  as,  equipped  with  various  weap- 
ons and  in  various  garbs,  with  trains  of  pack- 
horses,  they  wound  in  long  lines  through  the  rug- 
ged defiles,  and  up  and  down  the  crags  and  steeps 
of  the  mountain. 

The  travellers  had  again  an  opportunity  to  see 
and  admire  the  equestrian  habitudes  and  address 
of  this  hard-riding  tribe.  They  were  all  mounted, 
man,  woman,  and  child,  for  the  Crows  have 
horses  in  abundance,  so  that  no  one  goes  on  foot. 
The  children  are  perfect  imps  on  horseback. 
Among  them  was  one  so  young  that  he  could  not 
yet  speak.  He  was  tied  on  a  colt  of  two  years 
old,  but  managed  the  reins  as  if  by  instinct,  and 
plied  the  whip  with  true  Indian  prodigality.  Mr. 
Hunt  inquired  the  age  of  this  infant  jockey,  and 
was  answered  that  "  he  had  seen  two  winters." 

This  is  almost  realizing  the  fable  of  the  cen- 
taurs ;  nor  can  we  wonder  at  the  equestrian 
adroitness  of  these  savages,  who  are  thus  in  a 
manner  cradled  in  the  saddle,  and  become  in  in- 
fancy almost  identified  with  the  animal  they  be- 
stride. 

The  mountain  defiles  were  exceedingly  rough 
and  broken,  and  the  travelling  painful  to  the 
burdened  horses.  The  party,  therefore,  pro- 
ceeded but  slowly,  and  were  gradually  left  be- 
hind by  the  band  of  Crows,  who  had  taken  the 
lead.  It  is  more  than  probable  that  Mr.  Hunt 
loitered  in  his  course,  to  get  rid  of  such  doubtful 
fellow-travellers.  Certain  it  is  that  he  felt  a  sen- 
sation of  relief  as  he  saw  the  whole  crew,  the  ren- 
egade Rose  and  all,  disappear  among  the  wind- 
ings of  the  mountain,  and  heard  the  last  yelp  of 
the  savages  die  away  in  the  distance. 

When  they  were  fairly  out  of  sight,  and  out  of 
hearing,  he  encamped  on  the  head  waters  of  the 
little  stream  of  the  preceding  day,  having  come 
about  sixteen  miles.  Here  he  remained  all  the 
succeeding  day,  as  well  to  give  time  for  the 
Crows  to  get  in  the  advance,  as  for  the  stragglers, 
who  had  wandered  away  in  quest  of  water  two 
days  previously,  to  rejoin  the  camp.  Indeed,  con- 
siderable uneasiness  began  to  be  felt  concerning 
these  men,  lest  they  should  become  utterly  bewil- 
dered in  the  defiles  of  the  mountains,  or  should  fall 
into  the  hands  of  some  marauding  band  of  sav- 
ages. Some  of  the  most  experienced  hunters 
were  sent  in  search  of  them,  others,  in  the  mean 
time,  employed  themselves  in  hunting.  The  nar- 
row valley  in  which  they  encamped,  being  watered 
by  a  running  stream,  yielded  fresh  pasturage, 
and,  though  in  the  heart  of  the  Big  Horn  Moun- 
tains, was  well  stocked  with  buffalo.  Several  of 
these  were  killed,  as  also  a  grizzly  bear.  In  the 
evening,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  parties,  the 
stragglers  made  their  appearance,  and  provisions 
being  in  abundance,  there  was  hearty  good  cheer 
in  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

RESUMING  their  course  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions  continued  on 
westward  through  a  rugged  region  of  hills  and 
rocks,  but  diversified  in  many  places  by  grassy 
little  glens,  with  springs  of  water,  bright  spark- 
ling brooks,  clumps  of  pine  trees,  and  a  profu- 
sion of  flowering  plants,  which  were  in  full  bloom, 
although  the  weather  was  frosty.  These  beauti- 


366 


ASTORIA. 


ful  and  verdant  recesses,  running  through  and 
softening-  the  rugged  mountains,  were  cheering 
and  refreshing  to  the  way-worn  travellers. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  as  they  were  en- 
tangled in  a  defile,  they  beheld  a  small  band  ot 
savages,  as  wild  looking  as  the  surrounding 
scenery,  who  reconnoitred  them  warily  from  the 
rocks  before  they  ventured  to  advance.  Some  of 
them  were  mounted  on  horses  rudely  caparisoned, 
with  bridles  or  halters  of  buffalo  hide,  one  end 
trailing  after  them  on  the  ground.  They  proved 
to  be  a  mixed  party  of  Flatheads  and  Shoshonies, 
or  Snakes  ;  and  as  these  tribes  will  be  frequently 
mentioned  in  the  course  ot  this  work,  we  shall 
give  a  few  introductory  particulars  concerning 
them. 

The  Flatheads  in  question  ire  not  to  be  con- 
founded with  those  of  the  name  who  dwell  about 
the  lower  waters  of  the  Columbia  ;  neither  do  they 
flatten  their  heads  as  the  others  do.  They  inhab- 
it the  banks  of  a  river  on  the  west  side  of  the 
mountains,  and  are  described  as  simple,  honest, 
and  hospitable.  Like  all  people  of  similar  char- 
acter, whether  civilized  or  savage,  they  are  prone 
to  be  imposed  upon  ;  and  are  especially  mal- 
treated by  the  ruthless  Blackfeet,  who  harass  them 
in  their  villages,  steal  their  horses  by  night,  or 
openly  carry  them  off  in  the  face  of  day,  without 
provoking  pursuit  or  retaliation. 

The  Shoshonies  are  a  branch  ot  the  once  power- 
ful and  prosperous  tribe  of  the  Snakes,  who  pos- 
sessed a  glorious  hunting  country  about  the  upper 
forks  of  the  Missouri,  abounding  in  beaver  and 
buffalo.  Their  hunting-ground  was  occasionally 
invaded  by  the  Blackfeet,  but  the  Snakes  battled 
bravely  for  their  domains,  and  a  long  and  bloody 
feud  existed,  with  variable  success.  At  length  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  extending  their  trade 
into  the  interior,  had  dealings  with  the  Blackfeet, 
who  were  nearest  to  them,  and  supplied  them 
with  firearms.  The  Snakes,  who  occasionally 
traded  with  the  Spaniards,  endeavored,  but  in 
vain,  to  obtain  similar  weapons  ;  the  Spanish 
traders  wisely  refused  to  arm  them  so  formidably. 
The  Blackfeet  had  now  a  vast  advantage,  and 
soon  dispossessed  the  poor  Snakes  of  their  favorite 
hunting-grounds,  their  land  of  plenty,  and  drove 
them  from  place  to  place,  until  they" were  fain  to 
take  refuge  in  the  wildest  and  most  desolate  re- 
cesses of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Even  here  they 
are  subject  to  occasional  visits  from  their  impla- 
cable foes,  as  long  as  they  have  horses,  or  any 
other  property  to  tempt  the  plunderer.  Thus  by 
degrees  the  Snakes  have  become  a  scattered,  bro- 
ken-spirited, impoverished  people,  keeping  about 
lonely  rivers  and  mountain  streams,  and  subsist- 
ing chiefly  upon  fish.  Such  of  them  as  still  pos- 
sess horses,  and  occasionally  figure  as  hunters, 
are  called  Shoshonies  ;  but  there  is  another  class, 
the  most  abject  and  forlorn,  who  are  called 
Shuckers,  or  more  commonly  Diggers  and  Root 
Eaters.  These  are  a  shy,  secret,  solitary  race,  who 
keep  in  the  most  retired  parts  of  the  mountains, 
lurking  like  gnomes  in  caverns  and  clefts  of  the 
rocks,  and  subsisting  in  a  great  measure  on  the 
roots  of  the  earth.  Sometimes,  in  passing  through 
a  solitary  mountain  valley,  the  traveller  comes  per- 
chance upon  the  bleeding  carcass  of  a  deer  or 
buffalo  that  has  just  been  slain.  He  looks  round 
in  vain  for  the  hunter  ;  the  whole  landscape  is 
lifeless  and  deserted  ;  at  length  he  perceives  a 
thread  of  smoke,  curling  up  from -among  the 
crags  and  cliffs,  and  scrambling  to  the  place, 
finds  some  forlorn  and  skulking  brood  of  Diggers, 
terrified  at  being  discovered. 


The  Shoshonies,  however,  who,  as  has  been  ob- 
served, have  still  "  horse  to  ride  and  weapon  to 
wear,"  are  somewhat  bolder  in  their  spirit,  and 
more  open  and  wide  in  their  wanderings.  In 
the  autumn,  when  salmon  disappear  from  the 
rivers,  and  hunger  begins  to  pinch,  they  even 
venture  down  into  their  ancient  hunting-grounds, 
to  make  a  foray  among  the  buffaloes.  In  this 
perilous  enterprise  they  are  occasionally  joined  by 
the  Flatheads,  the  persecutions  of  the  Blackfeet 
having  produced  a  close  alliance  and  co-opera- 
tion between  these  luckless  and  maltreated  tribes. 
Still,  notwithstanding  their  united  force,  every 
step  they  take  within  the  debatable  ground  is 
taken  in  fear  and  trembling,  and  with  the  utmost 
precaution  ;  and  an  Indian  trader  assures  us  that 
he  has  seen  at  least  five  hundred  of  them,  armed 
and  equipped  for  action,  and  keeping  watch  upon 
the  hill  tops,  while  about  fifty  were  hunting  in  the 
prairie.  Their  excursions  are  brief  and  hurried  ; 
as  soon  as  they  have  collected  and  jerked  suf- 
ficient buffalo  meat  for  winter  provisions,  they 
pack  their  horses,  abandon  the  dangerous  hunt- 
ing grounds,  and  hasten  back  to  the  mountains, 
happy  if  they  have  not  the  terrible  Blackfeet  rat- 
tling after  them. 

Such  a  confederate  band  of  Shoshonies  and 
Flatheads  was  the  one  met  by  our  travellers.  It 
was  bound  on  a  visit  to  the  Arapahoes,  a  tribe  in- 
habiting the  banks  of  the  Nebraska.  They  were 
armed  to  the  best  of  their  scanty  means,  and  some 
of  the  Shoshonies  had  bucklers  of  buffalo  hide, 
adorned  with  feathers  and  leathern  fringes,  an  it 
which  have  a  charmed  virtue  in  their  eyes,  from 
having  been  prepared,  with  mystic  ceremonies, 
by  their  conjurors. 

In  company  with  this  wandering  band  our  trav 
ellers  proceeded  all  day.  In  the  evening  they  en- 
camped near  to  each  other  in  a  defile  of  the  moun- 
tains, on  the  borders  of  a  stream  running  north 
and  falling  into  Big  Horn  River.  In  the  vicinity 
of  the  camp  they  found  gooseberries,  strawber- 
ries, and  currants  in  great  abundance.  The  de- 
file bore  traces  of  having  been  a  thoroughfare  for 
countless  herds  of  buffaloes,  though  not  one  was 
to  be  seen.  The  hunters  succeeded  in  killing  an 
elk  and  several  black-tailed  deer. 

They  were  now  in  the  bosom  of  the  second  Big 
Horn  ridge,  with  another  lofty  and  snow-crowned 
mountain  full  in  view  to  the  west.  Fifteen  miles 
of  western  course  brought  them,  on  the  following 
day,  down  into  an  intervening  plain,  well  stocked 
with  buffalo.  Here  the  Snakes  and  Flatheads 
joined  with  the  white  hunters  in  a  successful  hunt, 
that  soon  filled  the  camp  with  provisions. 

On  the  morning  of  the  gih  of  September  the 
travellers  parted  company  with  their  Indian 
friends,  and  continued  on  their  course  to  the  west. 
A  march  of  thirty  miles  brought  them,  in  the 
evening,  to  the  banks  of  a  rapid  and  beautifully 
clear  stream  about  a  hundred  yards  wide.  It  is 
the  north  fork  or  branch  of  the  Big  Horn  River, 
but  bears  its  peculiar  name  of  the  Wind  River, 
from  being  subject  in  the  winter  season  to  a  con- 
tinued blast  which  sweeps  its  banks  and  prevents 
the  snow  from  lying  on  them.  This  blast  is  said 
to  be  caused  by  a  narrow  gap  or  funnel  in  the 
mountains,  through  which  the  river  forces  its  way 
between  perpendicular  precipices,  resembling  cut 
rocks. 

This  river  gives  its  name  to  a  whole  range  of 
mountains  consisting  of  three  parallel  chains, 
eighty  miles  in  length,  and  about  twenty  or 
twenty-five  broad.  One  of  its  peaks  is  probably 
fifteen  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 


ASTORIA. 


367 


being  one  of  the  highest  of  the  Rocky  Sierra. 
These  mountains  give  rise,  not  merely  to  the 
Wind  or  Big  Horn  River,  but  to  several  branches 
of  the  Yellowstone  and  the  Missouri  on  the  east, 
and  of  the  Columbia  and  Colorado  on  the  west, 
thus  dividing  the  sources  of  these  mighty  streams. 

For  five  succeeding  days  Mr.  Hunt  and  his 
party  continued  up  the  course  of  the  Wind  River, 
to  the  distance  of  about  eighty  miles,  crossing 
and  recrossing  it,  according  to  its  windings  and 
the  nature  of  its  banks  ;  sometimes  passing 
through  valleys,  at  other  times  scrambling  over 
rocks  and  hills.  The  country  in  general  was  des- 
titute of  trees,  but  they  passed  through  groves  of 
wormwood,  eight  and  ten  feet  in  height,  which 
they  used  occasionally  for  fuel,  and  they  met  with 
large  quantities  of  wild  flax. 

The  mountains  were  destitute  of  game  ;  they 
came  in  sight  of  two  grizzly  bears,  but  could  not 
get  near  enough  for  a  shot  ;  provisions,  therefore, 
began  to  be  scanty.  They  saw  large  flights  of  the 
kind  of  thrush  commonly  called  the  robin,  and 
many  smaller  birds  of  migratory  species  ;  but  the 
hills  in  general  appeared  lonely  and  with  few  signs 
of  animal  life.  On  the  evening  of  the  I4th  of  Sep- 
tember they  encamped  on  the  forks  of  the  Wind 
or  Big  Horn  River.  The  largest  of  these  forks 
came  from  the  range  of  Wind  River  Mountains. 

The  hunters  who  served  as  guides  to  the  party 
in  this  part  of  their  route  had  assured  Mr.  Hunt 
that,  by  following  up  Wind  River,  and  crossing 
a  single  mountain  ridge,  he  would  come  upon 
the  head  waters  of  the  Columbia.  The  scarcity 
of  game,  however,  which  already  had  been  felt  to 
a  pinching  degree,  and  which  threatened  them 
with  famine  among  the  sterile  heights  which  lay 
before  them,  admonished  them  to  change  their 
course.  It  was  determined,  therefore,  to  make 
for  a  stream,  which,  they  were  informed,  passed 
the  neighboring  mountains  to  the  south  of  west, 
on  the  grassy  banks  of  which  it  was  probable  they 
would  meet  with  buffalo.  Accordingly,  about 
three  o'clock  on  the  following  day,  meeting  with 
a  beaten  Indian  road  which  led  in  the  proper  di- 
rection, they  struck  into  it,  turning  their  backs 
upon  Wind  River. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  they  came  to  a  height 
that  commanded  an  almost  boundless  prospect. 
Here  one  of  the  guides  paused,  and,  after  consid- 
ering the  vast  landscape  attentively,  pointed  to 
three  mountain  peaks  glistening  with  snow,  which 
rose,  he  said,  above  a  fork  of  Columbia  River. 
They  were  hailed  by  the  travellers  with  that  joy 
with  which  a  beacon  on  a  sea-shore  is  hailed  by 
mariners  after  a  long  and  dangerous  voyage.  It 
is  true  there  was  many  a  weary  league  to  be  trav- 
ersed before  they  should  reach  these  landmarks, 
for,  allowing  for  their  evident  height  and  the  ex- 
treme transparency  of  the  atmosphere,  they  could 
not  be  much  less  than  a  hundred  miles  distant. 
Even  after  reaching  them  there  would  yet  remain 
hundreds  of  miles  of  their  journey  to  be  accom- 
plished. All  these  matters  were  forgotten  in  the 
joy  at  seeing  the  first  landmarks  of  the  Columbia, 
that  river  which  formed  the  bourne  of  the  expedi- 
tion. These  remarkable  peaks  are  known  to 
some  travellers  as  the  Tetons  ;  as  they  had  been 
guiding  points,  for  many  days,  to  Mr.  Hunt,  he 
gave  them  the  name  of  the  Pilot  Knobs. 

The  travellers  continued  their  course  to  the 
south  of  west  for  about  forty  miles,  through  a  re- 
gion so  elevated  that  patches  of  snow  lay  on  the 
highest  summits,  and  on  the  northern  declivities. 
At  length  they  came  to  the  desired  stream,  the 
object  of  their  search,  the  waters  of  which  flowed 


to  the  west.  It  was,  in  'fact,  a  branch  of  the 
Colorado,  which  falls  into  the  Gulf  of  California, 
and  had  received  from  the  hunters  the  name  of 
Spanish  River,  from  information  given  by  the  In- 
dians that  Spaniards  resided  upon  its  lower 
waters. 

The  aspect  of  this  river  and  its  vicinity  was 
cheering  to  the  way-worn  and  hungry  travellers. 
Its  banks  were  green,  and  there  were  grassy  val- 
leys running  from  it  in  various  directions,  into 
the  heart  of  the  rugged  mountains,  with  herds  of 
buffalo  quietly  grazing.  The  hunters  sallied  forth 
with  keen  alacrity,  and  soon  returned  laden  with 
provisions. 

In  this  part  of  the  mountains  Mr.  Hunt  met  with 
three  different  kinds  of  gooseberries.  The  com- 
mon purple,  on  a  low  and  very  thorny  bush  ;  a 
yellow  kind,  of  an  excellent  flavor,  growing  on  a 
stock  free  from  thorns  ;  and  a  deep  purple,  of  the 
size  and  taste  of  our  winter  grape,  with  a  thorny 
stalk.  There  were  also  three  kinds  of  currants, 
one  very  large  and  well  tasted,  of  a  purple  color, 
and  growing  on  a  bush  eight  or  nine  feet  high. 
Another  of  a  yellow  color,  and  of  the  size  and  taste 
of  the  large  red  currant,  the  bush  four  or  five  feet 
high  ;  and  the  third  a  beautiful  scarlet,  resem- 
bling the  strawberry  in  sweetness,  though  rather 
insipid,  and  growing  on  a  low  bush. 

On  the  1 7th  they  continued  down  the  course  of 
the  river,  making  fifteen  miles  to  the  southwest. 
The  river  abounded  with  geese  and  ducks,  and 
there  were  signs  of  its  being  inhabited  by  beaver 
and  otters  ;  indeed  they  were  now  approaching 
regions  where  these  animals,  the  great  objects  of 
the  fur  trade,  are  said  to  abound.  They  encamp- 
ed for  the  night  opposite  the  end  of  a  mountain  in 
the  west,  which  was  probably  the  last  chain  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  On  the  following  morning 
they  abandoned  the  main  course  of  Spanish  River, 
and  taking  a  northwest  direction  for  eight  miles, 
came  upon  one  of  its  little  tributaries,  issuing  out 
of  the  bosom  of  the  mountains,  and  running 
through  green  meadows,  yielding  pasturage  to 
herds  of  buffalo.  As  these  were  probably  the  last 
of  that  animal  they  would  meet  with,  they  en- 
camped on  the  grassy  banks  of  the  river,  deter- 
mining to  spend  several  days  in  hunting,  so  as  to 
be  able  to  jerk  sufficient  meat  to  supply  them  un- 
til they  should  reach  the  waters  of  the  Columbia, 
where  they  trusted  to  find  fish  enough  for  their 
support.  A  little  repose,  too,  was  necessary  for 
both  men  and  horses,  after  their  rugged  and  in- 
cessant marching  ;  having  in  the  course  of  the 
last  seventeen  days  traversed  two  hundred  and 
sixty  miles  of  rough,  and  in  many  parts  sterile 
mountain  country. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

FIVE  days  were  passed  by  Mr.  Hunt  and  his 
companions  in  the  fresh  meadows  watered  by  the 
bright  little  mountain  stream.  The  hunters  made 
great  havoc  among  the  buffaloes,  and  brought  in 
quantities  of  meat  ;  the  voyageurs  busied  them- 
selves about  the  fires,  roasting  and  stewing  for 
present  purposes,  or  drying  provisions  for  the  jour- 
ney ;  the  pack-horses,  eased  of  their  burdens, 
rolled  on  the  grass,  or  grazed  at  large  about  the 
ample  pastures  ;  those  of  the  party  who  had  no 
call  upon  their  services  indulged  in  the  luxury  of 
perfect  relaxation,  and  the  camp  presented  a  pic- 
ture of  rude  feasting  and  revelry,  of  mingled  bus- 
tle and  repose,  characteristic  of  a  halt  in  a  fine 
hunting  country.  In  the  course  of  one  of  their 


368 


ASTORIA. 


excursions  some  of  the  men  came  in  sight  of  a 
small  party  of  Indians,  who  instantly  fled  in  great 
apparent  consternation.  They  immediately  re- 
turned to  camp  with  the  intelligence  ;  upon  which 
Mr.  Hunt  and  four  others  flung  themselves  upon 
their  horses  and  sallied  forth  to  reconnoitre. 
After  riding  for  about  eight  miles  they  came 
upon  a  wild  mountain  scene.  A  lonely  green 
valley  stretched  before  them,  surrounded  by  rug- 
ged heights.  A  herd  of  buffalo  were  careering 
madly  through  it,  with  a  troop  of  savage  horse- 
men in  full  chase,  plying  them  with  their  bows 
and  arrows.  The  appearance  of  Mr.  Hunt  and 
his  companions  put  an  abrupt  end  to  the  hunt  ; 
the  buffalo  scuttled  off  in  one  direction,  while  the 
Indians  plied  their  lashes  and  galloped  off  in 
another,  as  fast  as  their  steeds  could  carry  them. 
Mr.  Hunt  gave  chase  ;  there  was  a  sharp  scam- 
per, though  of  short  continuance.  Two  young 
Indians,  who  were  indifferently  mounted,  were 
soon  overtaken.  They  were  terribly  frightened, 
and  evidently  gave  themselves  up  for  lost.  By 
degrees  their  fears  were  allayed  by  kind  treat- 
ment ;  but  they  continued  to  regard  the  strangers 
with  a  mixture  of  awe  and  wonder  ;  for  it  was  the 
first  time  in  their  lives  they  had  ever  seen  a  white 
man. 

They  belonged  to  a  party  of  Snakes  who  had 
come  across  the  mountains  on  their  autumnal 
hunting  excursion  to  provide  buffalo  meat  for  the 
winter.  Being  persuaded  of  the  peaceable  inten- 
tions of  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions,  they  will- 
ingly conducted  them  to  their  camp.  It  was  pitched 
in  a  narrow  valley  on  the  margin  of  a  stream.  The 
tents  were  of  dressed  skins,  some  of  them  fantasti- 
cally painted,  with  horses  grazing  about  them.  The 
approach  of  the  party  caused  a  transient  alarm  in 
the  camp,  for  these  poor  Indians  were  ever  on  the 
lookout  for  cruel  foes.  No  sooner,  however,  did 
they  recognize  the  garb  and  complexion  of  their 
visitors  than  their  apprehensions  were  changed 
into  joy  ;  for  some  of  them  had  dealt  with  white 
men,  and  knew  them  to  be  friendly,  and  to  abound 
with  articles  of  singular  value.  They  welcomed 
them,  therefore,  to  their  tents,  set  food  before 
them,  and  entertained  them  to  the  best  of  their 
power. 

They  had  been  successful  in  their  hunt,  and 
their  camp  was  full  of  jerked  buffalo  meat,  all  of 
the  choicest  kind,  and  extremely  fat.  Mr.  Hunt 
purchased  enough  of  them,  in  addition  to  what 
had  been  killed  and  cured  by  his  own  hunters,  to 
load  all  the  horses  excepting  those  reserved  for 
the  partners  and  the  wife  of  Pierre  Dorion.  He 
found  also  a  few  beaver  skins  in  their  camp,  for 
which  he  paid  liberally,  as  an  inducement  to 
them  to  hunt  for  more,  informing  them  that 
some  of  his  party  intended  to  live  among  the 
mountains,  and  trade  with  the  native  hunters  for 
their  peltries.  The  poor  Snakes  soon  compre- 
hended the  advantages  thus  held  out  to  them,  and 
promised  to  exert  themselves  to  procure  a  quan- 
tity of  beaver  skins  tor  future  traffic. 

Being  now  well  supplied  with  provisions,  Mr. 
Hunt  broke  up  his  encampment  on  the  24th  of 
September,  and  continued  on  to  the  west.  A 
march  of  fifteen  miles,  over  a  mountain  ridge, 
brought  them  to  a  stream  about  fifty  feet  in  width, 
which  Hoback,  one  of  their  guides,  who  had  trap- 
ped about  the  neighborhood  when  in  the  service 
of  Mr.  Henry,  recognized  for  one  of  the  head 
waters  of  the  Columbia.  The  travellers  hailed  it 
with  delight,  as  the  first  stream  they  had  encoun- 
tered tending  toward  their  point  of  destination. 
They  kept  along  it  for  two  days,  during  which, 


from  the  contribution  of  many  rills  and  brooks,  it 
gradually  swelled  into  a  small  river.  As  it  me- 
andered among  rocks  and  precipices,  they  were 
frequently  obliged  to  ford  it,  and  such  was  its  ra- 
pidity that  the  men  were  often  in  clanger  of  being 
swept  away.  Sometimes  the  banks  advanced  so 
close  upon  the  river  that  they  were  obliged  to 
scramble  up  and  clown  their  rugged  .promon- 
tories, or  to  skirt  along  their  bases  where  there 
was  scarce  a  foothold.  Their  horses  had  danger- 
ous falls  in  some  of  these  passes.  One  of  them 
rolled,  with  his  load,  nearly  two  hundred  feet 
down  hill,  into  the  river,  but  without  receiving 
any  injury.  At  length  they  emerged  irom  these 
stupendous  defiles,  and  continued  for  several 
miles  along  the  bank  of  Hoback's  River,  through 
one  of  the  stern  mountain  valleys.  Here  it  was 
joined  by  a  river  of  greater  magnitude  and  switter 
current,  and  their  united  waters  swept  off  through 
the  valley  in  one  impetuous  stream,  which,  from 
its  rapidity  and  turbulence,  had  received  the 
name  of  Mad  River.  At  the  confluence  of  these 
streams  the  travellers  encamped.  An  important 
point  in  their  arduous  journey  had  been  attained, 
a  few  miles  from  their  camp  rose  the  three  vast 
snowy  peaks  called  the  Tetons,  or  the  Pilot 
Knobs,  the  great  landmarks  of  the  Columbia,  by 
which  they  had  shaped  their  course  through  this 
mountain  wilderness.  By  their  feet  flowed  the 
rapid  current  of  Mad  River,  a  stream  ample  enough 
to  admit  of  the  navigation  of  canoes,  and  down 
which  they  might  possibly  be  able  to  steer  their 
course  to  the  main  body  of  the  Columbia.  The 
Canadian  voyageurs  rejoiced  at  the  idea  of  once 
more  launching  themselves  upon  their  favorite 
element  ;  of  exchanging  their  horses  for  canoes, 
and  of  gliding  down  the  bosoms  of  rivers,  instead 
of  scrambling  over  the  backs  of  mountains. 
Others  of  the  party,  also,  inexperienced  in  this 
kind  of  travelling,  considered  their  toils  and  trou- 
bles as  drawing  to  a  close.  They  had  conquered 
the  chief  difficulties  of  this  great  rocky  barrier, 
and  now  flattered  themselves  with  the  hope  of  an 
easy  downward  course  for  the  rest  of  their  jour- 
ney. Little  did  they  dream  of  the  hardships  and 
perils  by  land  and  water,  which  were  yet  to  be 
encountered  in  the  frightful  wilderness  that  inter- 
vened between  them  and  the  shures  of  the  Pa- 
cific ! 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

ON  the  banks  of  Mad  River  Mr.  Hunt  held  a 
consultation  with  the  other  partners  as  to  their 
future  movements.  The  wild  and  impetuous  cur- 
rent of  the  river  rendered  him  doubtful  whether 
it  might  not  abound  with  impediments  lower 
down,  sufficient  to  render  the  navigation  of  it 
slow  and  perilous,  if  not  impracticable.  The 
hunters  who  had  acted  as  guides  knew  nothing 
of  the  character  of  the  river  below  ;  what  rocks, 
and  shoals,  and  rapids  might  obstruct  it,  or 
through  what  mountains  and  deserts  it  might 
pass.  Should  they  then  abandon  their  horses, 
cast  themselves  loose  in  fragile  barks  upon  this 
wild,  doubtful,  and  unknown  river  ;  or  should 
they  continue  their  more  toilsome  and  tedious,  but 
perhaps  more  certain  wayfaring  by  land  ? 

The  vote,  as  might  have  been  expected,  was  al- 
most unanimous  for  embarkation  ;  for  when  men 
are  in  difficulties  every  change  seems  to  be  for 
the  better.  The  difficulty  now  was  to  find  timber 
of  sufficient  size  for  the  construction  of  canoes,  the 
trees  in  these  high  mountain  regions  being  chiefly 


ASTORIA. 


369 


a  scrubbed  growth  of  pines  and  cedars,  aspens, 
haws,  and  service-berries,  and  a  small  kind  of 
cotton-tree,  with  a  leaf  resembling  that  of  the  wil- 
low. There  was  a  species  of  large  fir,  but  so  full 
of  knots  as  to  endanger  the  axe  in  hewing  it.  After 
searching  for  some  time,  a  growth  of  timber,  of 
sufficient  size,  was  found  lower  down  the  river, 
whereupon  the  encampment  was  moved  to  the  vi- 
cinity. 

The  men  were  now  set  to  work  to  fell  trees, 
and  the  mountains  echoed  to  the  unwonted  sound 
of  their  axes.  While  preparations  were  thus  go- 
ing on  for  a  voyage  down  the  river,  Mr.  Hunt, 
who  still  entertained  doubts  of  its  practicability, 
dispatched  an  exploring  party,  consisting  of  John 
Reed,  the  clerk,  John  Day,  the  hunter,  and  Pierre 
Dorion,  the  interpreter,  with  orders  to  proceed 
several  days'  march  along  the  stream,  and  notice 
its  course  and  character. 

After  their  departure  Mr.  Hunt  turned  his 
thoughts  to  another  object  of  importance.  He 
had  now  arrived  at  the  head  waters  of  the 
Columbia,  which  were  among  the  main  points 
embraced  by  the  enterprise  of  Mr.  Astor.  These 
upper  streams  were  reputed  to  abound  in  beaver, 
and  had  as  yet  been  unmolested  by  the  white  trap- 
per. The  numerous  signs  of  beaver  met  with 
during  the  recent  search  for  timber  gave  evi- 
dence that  the  neighborhood  was  a  good  "  trap- 
ping ground."  Here  then  it  was  proper  to  be- 
gin to  cast  loose  those  leashes  of  hardy  trappers, 
that  are  detached  from  trading  parties,  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  wilderness.  The  men  detached  in 
the  present  instance  were  Alexander  Carson, 
Louis  St.  Michel,  Pierre  Detaye",  and  Pierre  De- 
launay.  Trappers  generally  go  in  pairs,  that  they 
may  assist,  protect,  and  comfort  each  other  in 
their  lonely  and  perilous  occupations.  Thus  Car- 
son and  St.  Michel  formed  one  couple,  and  De- 
taye  and  Delaunay  another.  They  were  fitted 
out  with  traps,  arms,  ammunition,  horses,  and 
every  other  requisite,  and  were  to  trap  upon  the 
upper  part  of  Mad  River,  and  upon  the  neighbor- 
ing streams  of  the  mountains.  This  would  prob- 
ably occupy  them  for  some  months  ;  and,  when 
they  should  have  collected  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
peltries,  they  were  to  pack  them  upon  their  horses 
and  make  the  best  of  their  way  to  the  mouth  of 
Columbia  River,  or  to  any  intermediate  post  which 
might  be  established  by  the  company.  They 
took  leave  of  their  comrades  and  started  off  on 
their  several  courses  with  stout  hearts  and  cheer- 
ful countenances  ;  though  these  lonely  cruisings 
into  a  wild  and  hostile  wilderness  seem  to  the  un- 
initiated equivalent  to  being  cast  adrift  in  the 
ship's  yawl  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean. 

Of  the  perils  that  attend  the  lonely  trapper,  the 
reader  will  have  sufficient  proof,  when  he  comes, 
in  the  after  part  of  this  work,  to  learn  the  hard 
fortunes  of  these  poor  fellows  in  the  course  of 
their  wild  peregrinations. 

The  trappers  had  not  long  departed  when  two 
Snake  Indians  wandered  into  the  camp.  When 
they  perceived  that  the  strangers  were  fabricating 
canoes,  they  shook  their  heads  and  gave  them  to 
understand  that  the  river  was  not  navigable. 
Their  information,  however,  was  scoffed  at  by 
some  of  the  party,  who  were  obstinately  bent  on 
embarkation,  but  was  confirmed  by  the  exploring 
party,  who  returned  after  several  days'  absence. 
They  had  kept  along  the  river  with  great  difficulty 
for  two  days,  and  found  it  a  narrow,  crooked,  tur- 
bulent stream,  confined  in  a  rocky  channel,  with 
many  rapids,  and  occasionally  overhung  with 
precipices.  From  the  summit  of  one  of  these  they 


had  caught  a  bird's-eye  view  of  its  boisterous  ca- 
reer, for  a  great  distance,  through  the  heart  of 
the  mountain,  with  impending  rocks  and  cliffs. 
Satisfied  from  this  view  that  it  was  useless  to  fol- 
low its  course  either  by  land  or  water,  they  had 
given  up  all  further  investigation. 

These  concurring  reports  determined  Mr.  Hunt 
to  abandon  Mad  River,  and  seek  some  more  nav- 
igable stream.  This  determination  was  concur- 
red in  by  all  his  associates  excepting  Mr.  Miller, 
who  had  become  impatient  of  the  fatigue  of  land 
travel,  and  was  for  immediate  embarkation  at  all 
hazards.  This  gentleman  had  been  in  a  gloomy 
and  irritated  state  of  mind  for  some  time  past,  be- 
ing troubled  with  a  bodily  malady  that  rendered 
travelling  on  horseback  extremely  irksome  to 
him,  and  being,  moreover,  discontented  with  hav- 
ing a  smaller  share  in  the  expedition  than  his 
comrades.  His  unreasonable  objections  to  a  fur- 
ther march  by  land  were  overruled,  and  the  party 
prepared  to  decamp. 

Robinson,  Hoback,  and  Rezner,  the  three  hunt- 
ers who  had  hitherto  served  as  guides  among  the 
mountains,  now  stepped  forward,  and  advised 
Mr.  Hunt  to  make  for  the  post  established  during 
the  preceding  year  by  Mr.  Henry,  of  the  Missouri 
Fur  Company.  They  had  been  with  Mr.  Henry, 
and  as  far  as  they  could  judge  by  the  neighboring 
landmarks,  his  post  could  not  be  very  far  off. 
They  presumed  there  could  be  but  one  interven- 
ing ridge  of  mountains,  which  might  be  passed 
without  any  great  difficulty.  Henry's  post,  or 
fort,  was  on  an  upper  branch  of  the  Columbia, 
down  which  they  made  no  doubt  it  would  be  easy 
to  navigate  in  canoes. 

The  two  Snake  Indians  being  questioned  in  the 
matter,  showed  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  situa- 
tion of  the  post,  and  offered,  with  great  alacrity, 
to  guide  them  to  the  place.  Their  offer  was  ac- 
cepted, greatly  to  the  displeasure  of  Mr.  Miller, 
who  seemed  obstinately  bent  upon  braving  the 
perils  of  Mad  River. 

The  weather  for  a  few  days  past  had  been 
stormy,  with  rain  and  sleet.  The  Rocky  Moun- 
tains are  subject  to  tempestuous  winds  from  the 
west  ;  these,  sometimes,  come  in  flaws  or  cur- 
rents, making  a  path  through  the  forests  many 
yards  in  width,  and  whirling  off  trunks  and 
branches  to  a  great  distance.  The  present  storm 
subsided  on  the  third  of  October,  leaving  all  the 
surrounding  heights  covered  with  snow  ;  for 
while  rain  had  fallen  in  the  valley,  it  had  snowed 
on  the  hill  tops. 

On  the  4th  they  broke  up  their  encampment 
and  crossed  the  river,  the  water  coming  up  to  the 
girths  of  their  horses.  After  travelling  four 
miles,  they  encampd  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
the  last,  as  they  hoped,  which  they  should  have  to 
traverse.  Four  days  more  took  them  across  it, 
and  over  several  plains,  watered  by  beautiful  little 
streams,  tributaries  of  Mad  River.  Near  one  of 
their  encampments  there  was  a  hot  spring  contin- 
ually emitling  a  cloud  of  vapor.  These  elevated 
plains,  which  give  a  peculiar  character  to  the 
mountains,  are  frequented  by  large  gangs  of  ante- 
lopes, fleet  as  the  wind. 

On  the  evening  of  the  8th  of  October,  after  a 
cold  wintry  day,  with  gusts  of  westerly  wind  and 
flurries  of  snow,  they  arrived  at  the  sought-for 
post  of  Mr.  Henry.  Here  he  had  fixed  himself, 
after  being  compelled  by  the  hostilities  of  the 
Blackfeet  to  abandon  the  upper  waters  of  the 
Missouri.  The  post,  however,  was  deserted,  for 
Mr.  Henry  had  left  it,  in  the  course  of  the  preced- 
ing spring,  and,  as  it  afterward  appeared,  had 


370 


ASTORIA. 


fallen  in  with  Mr.  Lisa,  at  the  Arickara  village  on 
the  Missouri,  some  time  alter  the  separation  of 
Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party. 

The  weary  travellers  gladly  took  possession  of 
the  deserted  log  huts  which  had  formed  the  post, 
and  which  stood  on  the  bank  of  a  stream  upward 
of  a  hundred  yards  wide,  on  which  they  intended 
to  embark.  There  being  plenty  of  suitable  tim- 
ber in  the  neighborhood,  Mr.  Hunt  immediately 
proceeded  to  construct  canoes.  As  he  would 
have  to  leave  his  horses  and  their  accoutrements 
here,  he  determined  to  make  this  a  trading  post, 
where  the  trappers  and  hunters,  to  be  distributed 
about  the  country,  might  repair  ;  and  where  the 
traders  might  touch  on  their  way  through  the 
mountains  to  and  from  the  establishment  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia.  He  informed  the  two 
Snake  Indians  of  this  determination,  and  engaged 
them  to  remain  in  that  neighborhood  and  take 
care  of  the  horses  until  the  white  men  should  re- 
turn, promising  them  ample  rewards  for  their 
fidelity.  It  may  seem  a  desperate  chance  to  trust 
to  the  faith  and  honesty  of  two  such  vagabonds  ; 
but,  as  the  horses  would  have,  at  all  events,  to 
be  abandoned,  and  would  otherwise  become  the 
property  of  the  first  vagrant  horde  that  should  en- 
counter them,  it  was  one  chance  in  favor  of  their 
being  regained. 

At  this  place  another  detachment  of  hunters 
prepared  to  separate  from  the  party  for  the  pur- 
pose of  trapping  beaver.  Three  of  these  had  al- 
ready been  in  this  neighborhood,  being  the  vete- 
ran Robinson  and  his  companions,  Hoback  and 
Rezner,  who  had  accompanied  Mr.  Henry  across 
the  mountains,  and  who  had  been  picked  up  by 
Mr.  Hunt  on  the  Missouri,  on  their  way  home  to 
Kentucky.  According  to  agreement  they  were 
fitted  out  with  horses,  traps,  ammunition,  and 
everything  requisite  for  their  undertaking,  and 
were  to  bring  in  all  the  peltries  they  should  col- 
lect, either  to  this  trading  post  or  to  the  estab- 
lishment at  the  mouth  of  Columbia  River.  Another 
hunter,  ot  the  name  of  Cass,  was  associated  with 
them  in  their  enterprise.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
small  knots  of  trappers  and  hunters  are  distrib- 
uted about  the  wilderness  by  the  fur  companies, 
and,  like  cranes  and  bitterns,  haunt  its  solitary 
streams.  Robinson,  the  Kentuckian,  the  veteran 
of  the  "  bloody  ground,"  who,  as  has  already  been 
noted,  had  been  scalped  by  the  Indians  in  his 
younger  days,  was  the  leader  of  this  little  band. 
When  they  were  about  to  depart,  Mr.  Miller  call- 
ed the  partners  together,  and  threw  up  his  share 
in  the  company,  declaring  his  intention  of  joining 
the  party  of  trappers. 

This  resolution  struck  every  one  with  astonish- 
ment, Mr.  Miller  being  a  man  of  education  and 
of  cultivated  habits,  and  little  fitted  for  the  rude 
life  of  a  hunter.  Besides,  the  precarious  and 
slender  profits  arising  from  such  a  life  were  be- 
neath the  prospects  of  one  who  held  a  share  in  the 
general  enterprise.  Mr.  Hunt  was  especially 
concerned  and  mortified  at  his  determination,  as 
it  was  through  his  advice  and  influence  he  had  en- 
tered into  the  concern.  He  endeavored,  there- 
fore, to  dissuade  him  from  this  sudden  resolution  ; 
representing  its  rashness,  and  the  hardships  and 
perils  to  which  it  would  expose  him.  He  earnest- 
ly advised  him,  however  he  might  feel  dissatisfied 
with  the  enterprise,  still  to  continue  on  in  com- 
pany until  they  should  reach  the  mouth  of  Colum- 
bia River.  There  they  would  meet  the  expedition 
that  was  to  come  by  sea  ;  when,  should  he  still 
feel  disposed  to  relinquish  the  undertaking,  Mr. 
Hunt  pledged  himself  to  furnish  him  a  passage 


home  in  one  of  the  vessels  belonging  to  the  com- 
pany. 

To  all  this  Miller  replied  abruptly,  that  it  was 
useless  to  argue  with  him,  as  his  mind  was  made 
up.  They  might  furnish  him,  or  not,  as  they 
pleased,  with  the  necessary  supplies,  but  he  was 
determined  to  part  company  here,  and  set  off  with 
the  trappers.  So  saying,  he  flung  out  of  their 
presence  without  vouchsafing  any  iurther  conver- 
sation. 

Much  as  this  wayward  conduct  gave  them  anx- 
iety, the  partners  saw  it  was  in  vain  to  remon- 
strate. Every  attention  was  paid  to  fit  him  out 
for  his  headstrong  undertaking.  He  was  pro- 
vided with  four  horses  and  all  the  articles  he  re- 
quired. The  two  Snakes  undertook  to  conduct 
him  and  his  companions  to  an  encampment  of 
their  tribe,  lower  down  among  the  mountains, 
from  whom  they  would  receive  information  as  to 
the  best  trapping  grounds.  After  thus  guiding 
them,  the  Snakes  were  to  return  to  Fort  Henry, 
as  the  new  trading  post  was  called,  and  take 
charge  of  the  horses  which  the  party  would  leave 
there,  of  which,  after  all  the  hunters  were  sup- 
plied, there  remained  seventy-seven.  These  mat- 
ters being  all  arranged,  Mr.  Miller  set  out  with 
his  companions,  under  guidance  of  the  two 
Snakes,  on  the  loth  of  October  ;  and  much  did  it 
grieve  the  friends  of  that  gentleman  to  see  him  thus 
wantonly  casting  himself  loose  upon  savage  life. 
How  he  and  his  comrades  fared  in  the  wilderness, 
and  how  the  Snakes  acquitted  themselves  of  their 
trust  respecting  the  horses,  will  hereafter  appear 
in  the  course  ot  these  rambling  anecdotes. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

WHILE  the  canoes  were  '  in  preparation,  the 
hunters  ranged  about  the  neighborhood,  but  with 
little  success.  Tracks  of  buffaloes  were  to  be  seen 
in  all  directions,  but  none  of  a  fresh  date.  There 
were  some  elk,  but  extremely  wild  ;  two  only 
were  killed.  Antelopes  were  likewise  seen,  but 
too  shy  and  fleet  to  be  approached.  A  few  beavers 
were  taken  every  night,  and  salmon  trout  of  a 
small  size,  so  that  the  camp  had  principally  to 
subsist  upon  dried  buffalo  meat. 

On  the  I4th,  a  poor,  half-naked  Snake  Indian, 
one  of  that  forlorn  caste  called  the  Shuckers,  or 
Diggers,  made  his  appearance  at  the  camp.  He 
came  from  some  lurking-place  among  the  rocks 
and  cliffs,  and  presented  a  picture  of  that  famish- 
ing wretchedness  to  which  these  lonely  fugitives 
among  the  mountains  are  sometimes  reduced. 
Having  received  wherewithal  to  allay  his  hunger, 
he  disappeared,  but  in  the  course  of  a  day  or  two 
returned  to  the  camp,  bringing  with  him  his  son, 
a  miserable  boy,  still  more  naked  and  forlorn  than 
himself.  Food  was  given  to  both  ;  they  skulked 
about  the  camp  like  hungry  hounds,  seeking  what 
they  might  devour,  and  having  gathered  up  the  feet 
and  entrails  of  some  beavers  that  were  lying 
about,  slunk  off  with  them  to  their  den  among  the 
rocks. 

By  the  i8th  of  October  fifteen  canoes  were  com- 
pleted, and  on  the  following  day  the  party  em- 
barked with  their  effects,  leaving  their  horses 
grazing  about  the  banks,  and  trusting  to  the  hon- 
esty of  the  two  Snakes,  and  some  special  turn  of 
good  luck  for  their  future  recovery. 

The  current  bore  them  along  at  a  rapid  rate  ; 
the  light  spirits  of  the  Canadian  voyageurs,  which 
had  occasionally  flagged  upon  land,  rose  to  their 


ASTORIA. 


371 


accustomed  buoyancy  on  finding  themselves 
again  upon  the  water.  They  wielded  their  pad- 
dles with  their  wonted  dexterity,  and  for  the  first 
time  made  the  mountains  echo  with  their  favorite 
boat  songs. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  little  squadron  ar- 
rived at  the  confluence  of  Henry  and  Mad  Rivers, 
which,  thus  united,  swelled  into  a  beautiful  stream 
of  a  light  pea-green  color,  navigable  for  boats  of 
any  size,  and  which,  from  the  place  of  junction, 
took  the  name  of  Snake  River,  a  stream  doomed 
to  be  the  scene  of  much  disaster  to  the  travellers. 
The  banks  were  here  and  there  fringed  with  wil- 
low thickets  and  small  cotton-wood  trees.  The 
weather  was  cold,  and  it  snowed  all  day, 
and  great  flocks  of  ducks  and  geese,  sport- 
ing in  the  water  or  streaming  through  the  air, 
gave  token  that  winter  was  at  hand  ;  yet  the 
hearts  of  the  travellers  were  light,  and,  as  they 
glided  clown  the  little  river,  they  flattered  them- 
selves with  the  hope  of  soon  reaching  the  Colum- 
bia. After  making  thirty  miles  in  a  southerly  di- 
rection, they  encamped  for  the  night  in  a  neigh- 
borhood which  required  some  little  vigilance,  as 
there  were  recent  traces  of  grizzly  bears  among 
the  thickets. 

On  the  following  day  the  river  increased  in 
width  and  beauty,  flowing  parallel  to  a  range  of 
mountains  on  the  left,  which  at  times  were  finely 
reflected  in  its  light  green  waters.  The  three 
snowy  summits  of  the  Pilot  Knobs  or  Tetons, 
were  still  seen  towering  in  the  distance.  After 
pursuing  a  swift  but  placid  course  for  twenty 
miles,  the  current  began  to  foam  and  brawl,  and 
assume  the  wild  and  broken  character  common 
to  the  streams  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  In 
fact  the  rivers  which  flow  from  those  mountains 
to  the  Pacific  are  essentially  different  from  those 
which  traverse  the  great  prairies  on  their  eastern 
declivities.  The  latter,  though  sometimes  boister- 
ous, are  generally  free  from  obstructions,  and 
easily  navigated  ;  but  the  rivers  to  the  west  of 
the  mountains  descend  more  steeply  and  impet- 
uously, and  are  continually  liable  to  cascades  and 
rapids.  The  latter  abounded  in  the  part  of  the 
river  which  the  travellers  were  now  descending. 
Two  of  the  canoes  filled  among  the  breakers  ;  the 
crews  were  saved,  but  much  of  the  lading  was  lost 
or  damaged,  and  one  of  the  canoes  drifted  down 
the  stream  and  was  broken  among  the  rocks. 

On  the  following  day,  October  2ist,  they  made 
but  a  short  distance  when  they  came  to  a  danger- 
ous strait,  where  the  river  was  compressed  for 
nearly  half  a  mile  between  perpendicular  rocks, 
reducing  it  to  the  width  of  twenty  yards,  and  in- 
creasing its  violence.  Here  they  were  obliged  to 
pass  the  canoes  down  cautiously  by  a  line  from 
the  impending  banks.  This  consumed  a  great 
part  of  a  day  ;  and  after  they  had  re-embarked 
they  were  soon  again  impeded  by  rapids,  when 
they  had  to  unload  their  canoes  and  carry  them 
and  their  cargoes  for  some  distance  by  land.  It 
is  at  these  places,  called  "portages,"  that  the 
Canadian  voyageur  exhibits  his  most  valuable 
qualities,  carrying  heavy  burdens,  and  toiling  to 
and  fro,  on  land  and  in  the  water,  over  rocks  and 
precipices,  among  brakes  and  brambles,  not  only 
without  a  murmur,  but  with  the  greatest  cheer- 
fulness and  alacrity,  joking  and  laughing  and 
singing  scraps  of  old  French  ditties. 

The  spirits  of  the  party,  however,  which  had 
been  elated  on  first  varying  their  journeying  from 
land  to  water,  had  now  lost  some  of  their  buoy- 
ancy. Everything  ahead  was  wrapped  in  uncer- 
tainty. They  knew  nothing  of  the  river  on  which 


they  were  floating.  It  had  never  been  navigated 
by  a  white  man,  nor  could  they  meet  with  an  In- 
dian to  give  them  any  information  concerning  it. 
It  kept  on  its  course  through  a  vast  wilderness  of 
silent  and  apparently  uninhabited  mountains, 
without  a  savage  wigwam  upon  its  banks,  or  bark 
upon  its  waters.  The  difficulties  and  perils  they 
had  already  passed  made  them  apprehend  others 
before  them  that  might  effectually  bar  their  prog- 
ress. As  they  glided  onward,  however,  they 
regained  heart  and  hope.  The  current  continued 
to  be  strong  ;  but  it  was  steady,  and  though  they 
met  with  frequent  rapids,  none  of  them  were  bad. 
Mountains  were  constantly  to  be  seen  in  different 
directions,  but  sometimes  the  swift  river  glided 
through  prairies,  and  was  bordered  by  small  cot- 
ton-wood trees  and  willows.  These  prairies  at 
certain  seasons  are  ranged  by  migrator)'  herds  of 
the  wide-wandering  buffalo,  the  tracks  of  which, 
though  not  of  recent  date,  were  frequently  to  be 
seen.  Here,  too,  were  to  be  found  the  prickly- 
pear,  or  Indian  fig,  a  plant  which  loves  a  more 
southern  climate.  On  the  land  were  large  flights 
of  magpies  and  American  robins  ;  whole  fleets  of 
ducks  and  geese  navigated  the  river,  or  flew  off 
in  long  streaming  files  at  the  approach  of  the  ca- 
noes ;  while  the  frequent  establishments  of  the 
painstaking  and  quiet-loving  beaver  showed  that 
the  solitude  of  these  waters  was  rarely  disturbed, 
even  by  the  all-pervading  savage. 

They  had  now  come  near  two  hundred  and 
eighty  miles  since  leaving  Fort  Henry,  yet  with- 
out seeing  a  human  being  or  a  human  habitation  ; 
a  wild  and  desert  solitude  extended  on  either  side 
of  the  river,  apparently  almost  destitute  of  animal 
life.  At  length,  on  the  24th  of  October,  they  were 
gladdened  by  the  sight  of  some  savage  tents,  and 
hastened  to  land  and  visit  them,  for  they  were  anx- 
ous  to  procure  information  to  guide  them  on  their 
route.  On  their  approach,  however,  the  savages 
fled  in  -consternation.  They  proved  to  be  a  wan- 
dering band  of  Shoshonies.  In  their  tents  were 
great  quantities  of  small  fish  about  two  inches 
long,  together  with  roots  and  seeds,  or  grain, 
which  they  were  drying  for  winter  provisions. 
They  appeared  to  be  destitute  of  tools  of  any 
kind,  yet  there  were  bows  and  arrows  very  well 
made  ;  the  former  were  formed  of  pine,  cedar,  or 
bone,  strengthened  by  sinews,  and  the  latter  of  the 
wood  of  rose-bushes,  and  other  crooked  plants, 
but  carefully  straightened,  and  tipped  with  stone 
of  a  bottle-green  color. 

There  were  also  vessels  of  willow  and  grass,  so 
closely  wrought  as  to  hold  water,  and  a  seine 
neatly  made  with  meshes,  in  the  ordinary  man- 
ner, of  the  fibres  of  wild  flax  or  nettle.  The 
humble  effects  of  the  poor  savages  remained  un- 
molested by  their  visitors,  and  a  few  small  arti- 
cles, with  a  knife  or  two,  were  left  in  the  camp, 
and  were  no  doubt  regarded  as  invaluable  prizes. 

Shortly  after  leaving  this  deserted  camp,  and  re- 
embarking  in  the  canoes,  the  travellers  met  with 
three  of  the  Snakes  on  a  triangular  raft  made  of 
flags  or  reeds  ;  such  was  their  rude  mode  of  nav- 
igating the  river.  They  were  entirely  naked  ex- 
cepting small  mantles  of  hare  skins  over  their 
shoulders.  The  canoes  approached  near  enough 
to  gain  a  full  view  of  them,  but  they  were  not  to 
be  brought  to  a  parley. 

All  further  progress  for  the  day  was  barred  by  a 
fall  in  the  river  of  about  thirty  feet  perpendicular  ; 
at  the  head  of  which  the  party  encamped  for  the 
night. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  excessive  toil  and  but 
little  progress,  the  river  winding  through  a  wild 


372 


ASTORIA. 


rocky  country,  and  being  interrupted  by  frequent 
rapids,  among  which  the  canoes  were  in  great 
peril.  On  the  succeeding  day  they  again  visited 
a  camp  of  wandering  Snakes,  but  the  inhabitants 
fled  with  terror  at  the  sight  of  a  fleet  of  canoes, 
filled  with  white  men,  coming  down  their  solitary 
river. 

As  Mr.  Hunt  was  extremely  anxious  to  gain  in- 
formation concerning  his  route,  he  endeavored  by 
all  kinds  of  friendly  signs  to  entice  back  the  fugi- 
tives. At  length  one,  who  was  on  horseback, 
ventured  back  with  fear  and  trembling.  He  was 
better  clad  and  in  better  condition  than  most  of 
his  vagrant  tribe  that  Mr.  Hunt  had  yet  seen.  The 
chief  object  of  his  return  appeared  to  be  to  inter- 
cede for  a  quantity  of  dried  meat  and  salmon 
trout,  which  he  had  left  behind  ;  on  which,  prob- 
ably, he  depended  for  his  winter's  subsistence. 
The  poor  wretch  approached  with  hesitation,  the 
alternate  dread  of  famine  and  of  white  men  oper- 
ating upon  his  mind.  He  made  the  most  abject 
signs  imploring  Mr.  Hunt  not  to  carry  off  his  food. 
The  latter  tried  in  everyway  to  reassure  him,  and 
offered  him  knives  $h  exchange  for  his  provisions  ; 
great  as  was  the  temptation,  the  poor  Snake  could 
only  prevail  upon  himself  to  spare  a  part,  keep- 
ing a  feverish  watch  over  the  rest,  lest  it  should 
be  taken  away.  It  was  in  vain  Mr.  Hunt  made 
inquiries  of  him  concerning  his  route,  and  the 
course  of  the  river.  The  Indian  was  too  much 
frightened  and  bewildered  to  comprehend  him  or 
to  reply  ;  he  did  nothing  but  alternately  commend 
himself  to  the  protection  of  the  Good  Spirit,  and 
supplicate  Mr.  Hunt  not  to  take  away  his  fish  and 
buffalo  meat  ;  and  in  this  state  they  left  him, 
trembling  about  his  treasures. 

In  the  course  of  that  and  the  next  day  they  made 
nearly  eight  miles,  the  river  inclining  to  the  south 
of  west,  and  being  clear  and  beautiful,  nearly  half 
a  mile  in  width,  with  many  populous  communities 
of  the  beaver  along  its  banks.  The  28th  of  October, 
however,  was  a  day  of  disaster.  The  river  again 
became  rough  and  impetuous,  and  was  chafed 
and  broken  by  numerous  rapids.  These  grew  more 
and  more  dangerous,  and  the  utmost  skill  was  re- 
quired to  steer  among  them.  Mr.  Crooks  was 
seated  in  the  second  canoe  of  the  squadron,  and 
had  an  old  experienced  Canadian  for  steersman, 
named  Antoine  Clappine,  one  of  the  most  valua- 
ble of  the  voyageurs.  The  leading  canoe  had 
glided  safely  among  the  turbulent  and  roaring 
surges,  but  in  following  it  Mr.  Crooks  perceived 
that  his  canoe  was  bearing  toward  a  rock.  He 
called  out  to  the  steersman,  but  his  warning  voice 
was  either  unheard  or  unheeded.  In  the  next 
moment  they  struck  upon  the  rock.  The  canoe 
was  split  and  overturned.  There  were  five  per- 
sons on  board.  Mr.  Crooks  and  one  of  his  com- 
panions were  thrown  amid  roaring  breakers  and 
a  whirling  current,  but  succeeded,  by  strong 
swimming,  to  reach  the  shore.  Clappine  and 
two  others  clung  to  the  shattered  bark,  and  drift- 
ed with  it  to  a  rock.  The  wreck  struck  the  rock 
with  one  end,  and  swinging  round,  flung  poor 
Clappine  off  into  the  raging  stream,  which  swept 
him  away,  and  he  perished.  His  comrades  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  upon  the  rock,  from  whence 
they  were  afterward  taken  off. 

This  disastrous  event  brought  the  whole  squad- 
ron to  a  halt,  and  struck  a  chill  into  every  bosom. 
Indeed,  they  had  arrived  at  a  terrific  strait,  that 
forbade  all  further  progress  in  the  canoes,  and 
dismayed  the  most  experienced  voyageur.  The 
whole  body  of  the  river  was  compressed  into  a 
space  of  less  than  thirty  feet  in  width,  between 


two  ledges  of  rocks,  upward  of  two  hundred  feet 
high,  and  formed  a  whirling  and  tumultuous  vor- 
tex, so  frightfully  agitated  as  to  receive  the  name 
of  "The  Caldron  Linn."  Beyond  this  fearful 
abyss  the  river  kept  raging  and  roaring  on,  until 
lost  to  sight  among  impending  precipices. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

MR.  HUNT  and  his  companions  encamped  upon 
the  borders  of  the  Caldron  Linn,  and  held  gloomy 
counsel  as  to  their  future  course.  The  recent 
wreck  had  dismayed  even  the  voyageurs,  and  the 
fate  of  their  popular  comrade,  Clappine,  one  of 
the  most  adroit  and  experienced  of  their  frater- 
nity, had  struck  sorrow  to  their  hearts,  for,  with 
all  their  levity,  these  thoughtless  beings  have 
great  kindness  toward  each  other. 

The  whole  distance  they  had  navigated  since 
leaving  Henry's  Fort  was  computed  to  be  about 
three  hundred  and  forty  miles  ;  strong  apprehen- 
sions were  now  entertained  that  the  tremendous 
impediments  before  them  would  oblige  them  to 
abandon  their  canoes.  It  was  determined  to  send 
exploring  parties  on  each  side  of  the  river  to  as- 
certain whether  it  was  possible  to  navigate  it  fur- 
ther. Accordingly,  on  the  following  morning 
three  men  were  dispatched  along  the  south  bank, 
while  Mr.  Hunt  and  three  others  proceeded  along 
the  north.  The  two  parties  returned  after  a  weary 
scramble  among  swamps,  rocks,  and  precipices, 
and  with  very  disheartening  accounts.  For  nearly 
forty  miles  that  they  had  explored,  the  river  foam- 
ed and  roared  along  through  a  deep  and  narrow 
channel,  from  twenty  to  thirty  yards  wide,  which 
it  had  worn,  in  the  course  of  ages,  through  the 
heart  of  a  barren,  rocky  country.  The  precipices 
on  each  side  were  often  two  and  three  hundred 
feet  high,  sometimes  perpendicular,  and  some- 
times overhanging,  so  that  it  was  impossible,  ex- 
cepting in  one  or  two  places,  to  get  down  to  the 
margin  of  the  stream.  This  dreary  strait  was 
rendered  the  more  dangerous  by  frequent  rapids, 
and  occasionally  perpendicular  falls  from  ten  to 
forty  feet  in  height  ;  so  that  it  seemed  almost 
hopeless  to  attempt  to  pass  the  canoes  down  it. 
The  party,  however,  who  had  explored  the  south 
side  of  the  river,  had  found  a  place,  about  six 
miles  from  the  camp,  where  they  thought  it  possi- 
ble the  canoes  might  be  carried  down  the  bank 
and  launched  upon  the  stream,  and  from  whence 
they  might  make  their  way  with  the  aid  of  occa- 
sional portages.  Four  of  the  best  canoes  were 
accordingly  selected  for  the  experiment,  and  were 
transported  to  the  place  on  the  shoulders  of  six- 
teen of  the  men.  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Reed, 
the  clerk,  and  three  men  were  detached  to  explore 
the  river  still  further  down  than  the  previous  scout- 
ing parties  had  been,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
look  out  for  Indians,  from  whom  provisions  might 
be  obtained,  and  a  supply  of  horses,  should  it  be 
found  necessary  to  proceed  by  land. 

The  party  who  had  been  sent  with  the  canoes 
returned  on  the  following  day,  weary  and  deject- 
ed. One  of  the  canoes  had  been  swept  away  with 
all  the  weapons  and  effects  of  four  of  the  voy- 
ageurs, in  attempting  to  pass  it  down  a  rapid  by 
means  of  a  line.  The  other  three  had  stuck  fast 
among  the  rocks,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to 
move  them  ;  the  men  returned,  therefore,  in  de- 
spair, and  declared  the  river  unnavigable. 

The  situation  of  the  unfortunate  travellers  was 
now  gloomy  in  the  extreme.  They  were  in  the 


ASTORIA. 


373 


heart  of  an  unknown  wilderness,  untraversed  as 
yet  by  a  white  man.  They  were  at  a  loss  what 
route  to  take,  and  how  far  they  were  from  the 
ultimate  place  of  their  destination,  nor  could  they 
meet,  in  these  uninhabited  wilds,  with  any  hu- 
man being  to  give  them  information.  The  repeat- 
ed accidents  to  their  canoes  had  reduced  their 
stock  of  provisions  to  five  days'  allowance,  and 
there  was  now  every  appearance  of  soon  having 
famine  added  to  their  other  sufferings. 

This  last  circumstance  rendered  it  more  perilous 
to  keep  together  than  to  separate.  Accordingly, 
after  a  little  anxious  but  bewildered  counsel,  it 
was  determined  that  several  small  detachments 
should  start  off  in  different  directions,  headed  by 
the  several  partners.  Should  any  of  them  succeed 
in  falling  in  with  friendly  Indians,  within  a  rea- 
sonable distance,  and  obtaining  a  supply  of  pro- 
visions and  horses,  they  were  to  return  to  the  aid 
of  the  main  body  ;  otherwise,  they  were  to  shift 
for  themselves,  and  shape  their  course  according 
to  circumstances,  keeping  the  mouth  of  the  Co- 
lumbia River  as  the  ultimate  point  of  their  way- 
faring. Accordingly,  three  several  parties  set  off 
from  the  camp  at  Caldron  Linn,  in  opposite  di- 
rections. Mr.  M'Lellan,  with  three  men,  kept 
clown  along  the  bank  of  the  river.  Mr.  Crooks, 
with  five  others,  turned  their  steps  up  it,  retrac- 
ing by  land  the  weary  course  they  had  made  by 
water,  intending,  should  they  not  find  relief  nearer 
at  hand,  to  keep  on  until  they  should  reach  Hen- 
ry's Fort,  where  they  hoped  to  find  the  horses  they 
had  left  there,  and  to  return  with  them  to  the 
main  body. 

The  third  party,  composed  of  five  men,  was 
headed  by  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  who  struck  to  the  north- 
ward, across  the  desert  plains,  in  hopes  of  com- 
ing upon  the  main  stream  of  the  Columbia. 

Having  seen  these  three  adventurous  bands  de- 
part upon  their  forlorn  expeditions,  Mr.  Hunt 
turned  his  thoughts  to  provide  for  the  subsistence 
of  the  main  body  left  to  his  charge,  and  to  pre- 
pare for  their  future  march.  There  remained  with 
him  thirty-one  men,  besides  the  squaw  and  two 
children  of  Pierre  Dorion.  There  was  no  game 
to  be  met  \vith  in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  beavers 
were  occasionally  trapped  about  the  river  banks, 
which  afforded  a  scanty  supply  of  food  ;  in  the 
mean  time  they  comforted  themselves  that  some 
one  or  other  of  the  foraging  detachments  would 
be  successful,  and  return  with  relief. 

Mr.  Hunt  now  set  to  work  with  all  diligence, 
to  prepare  caches  in  which  to  deposit  the  baggage 
and  merchandise,  of  which  it  would  be  necessary 
to  disburden  themselves,  preparatory  to  their 
weary  march  by  land  ;  and  here  we  shall  give  a 
brief  description  of  those  contrivances,  so  noted  in 
the  wilderness. 

A  cache  is  a  term,  common  among  traders  and 
hunters,  to  designate  a  hiding-place  for  provisions 
and  effects.  It  is  derived  from  the  French  word 
cacher,  to  conceal,  and  originated  among  the 
early  colonists  of  Canada  and  Louisiana  ;  but  the 
secret  depository  which  it  designates  was  in  use 
among  the  aboriginals  long  before  the  intrusion 
of  the  white  men.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  only  mode 
that  migratory  hordes  have  of  preserving  their 
valuables  from  robbery,  during  their  long  ab- 
sences from  their  villages  or  accustomed  haunts, 
or  hunting  expeditions,  or  during  the  vicissitudes 
of  war.  The  utmost  skill  and  caution  are  required 
to  render  these  places  of  concealment  invisible  to 
the  lynx  eye  of  an  Indian.  The  first  care  is  to 
seek  out  a  proper  situation,  which  is  generally 
some  dry  low  bank  of  clay,  on  the  margin  of  a 


water-course.  As  soon  as  the  precise  spot  is 
pitched  upon,  blankets,  saddle-cloths,  and  other 
coverings  are  spread  over  the  surrounding  grass 
and  bushes,  to  prevent  foot  tracks,  or  any  other 
derangement  ;  and  as  few  hands  as  possible  are 
employed.  A  circle  of  about  two  feet  in  diameter 
is  then  nicely  cut  in  the  sod,  which  is  carefully 
removed,  with  the  loose  soil  immediately  beneath 
it,  and  laid  aside  in  a  place  where  it  will  be  safe 
Irom  anything  that  may  change  its  appearance. 
The  uncovered  area  is  then  digged  perpendicular- 
ly to  the  depth  of  about  three  feet,  and  is  then 
gradually  widened  so  as  to  form  a  conical  cham- 
ber, six  or  seven  feet  deep.  The  whole  of  the 
earth  displaced  by  this  process,  being  of  a  differ- 
ent color  from  that  on  the  surface,  is  handed  up 
in  a  vessel,  and  heaped  into  a  skin  or  cloth,  in 
which  it  is  conveyed  to  the  stream  and  thrown 
into  the  midst  of  the  current,  that  it  may  be  en- 
tirely carried  off.  Should  the  cache  not  be  form- 
ed in  the  vicinity  of  a  stream,  the  earth  thus 
thrown  up  is  carried  to  a  distance,  and  scattered 
in  such  manner  as  not  to  leave  the  minutqst  trace. 
The  cave,  being  formed,  is  well  lined  with  dry 
grass,  bark,  sticks,  and  poles,  and  occasionally  a 
dried  hide.  The  property  intended  to  be  hidden 
is  then  laid  in,  after  having  been  well  aired  ;  a 
hide  is  spread  over  it,  and  dried  grass,  brush,  and 
stones  thrown  in,  and  trampled  down  until  the  pit 
is  filled  to  the  neck.  The  loose  soil  which  had 
been  put  aside  is  then  brought,  and  rammed 
down  firmly,  to  prevent  its  caving  in,  and  is  fre- 
quently sprinkled  with  water,  to  destroy  the  scent, 
lest  the  wolves  and  bears  should  be  attracted  to 
the  place,  and  root  up  the  concealed  treasure. 
When  the  neck  of  the  cache  is  nearly  level  with 
the  surrounding  surface,  the  sod  is  again  fitted  in 
with  the  utmost  exactness,  and  any  bushes,  stocks, 
or  stones,  that  may  have  originally  been  about 
the  spot,  are  restored  to  their  former  places.  The 
blankets  and  other  coverings  are  then  removed 
from  the  surrounding  herbage  ;  all  tracks  are  ob- 
literated ;  the  grass  is  gently  raised  by  the  hand 
to  its  natural  position,  and  the  minutest  chip  or 
straw  is  scrupulously  gleaned  up  and  thrown  into 
the  stream.  After  all  is  clone,  the  place  is  aban- 
doned for  the  night,  and,  if  all  be  right  next  morn- 
ing, is  not  visited  again,  until  there  be  a  necessity 
for  reopening  the  cache.  Four  men  are  sufficient, 
in  this  way,  to  conceal  the  amount  of  three  tons' 
weight  of  merchandise  in  the  course  of  two  days. 
Nine  caches  were  required  to  contain  the  goods 
and  baggage  which  Mr.  Hunt  found  it  necessary 
to  leave  at  this  place. 

Three  days  had  been  thus  employed  since  the 
departure  of  the  several  detachments,  when  that 
of  Mr.  Crooks  unexpectedly  made  its  appear- 
ance. A  momentary  joy  was  diffused  through  the 
camp,  for  they  supposed  succor  to  be  at  hand.  It 
was  soon  dispelled.  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  com- 
panions had  become  completely  disheartened  by 
this  retrograde  march  through  a  bleak  and  bar- 
ren country  ;  and  had  found,  computing  from 
their  progress  and  the  accumulating  difficulties 
besetting  every  step,  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  reach  Henry's  Fort  and  return  to  the  main 
body  in  the  course  of  the  winter.  They  had  de- 
termined, therefore,  to  rejoin  their  comrades,  and 
share  their  lot. 

One  avenue  of  hope  was  thus  closed  upon  the 
anxious  sojourners  at  the  Caldron  Linn  ;  their  main 
expectation  of  relief  was  now  from  the  two  parties 
under  Reed  and  M'Lellan,  which  had  proceeded 
down  the  river,  for,  as  to  Mr.  M'Kenzie's  detach- 
ment, which  had  struck  across  the  plains,  they 


374 


ASTORIA. 


thought  it  would  have  sufficient  difficulty  in  strug- 
gling forward  through  the  trackless  wilderness. 
For  five  days  they  continued  to  support  them- 
selves by  trapping  and  fishing.  Some  fish  of  tol- 
erable size  were  speared  at  night  by  the  light  of 
.  cedar  torches  ;  others,  that  were  very  small,  were 
*  caught  in  nets  with  fine  meshes.  The  product  of 
their  fishing,  however,  was  very  scanty.  Their 
trapping  was  also  precarious,  and  the  tails  and 
bellies  of  the  beavers  were  dried  and  put  by  for 
the  journey. 

At  length  two  of  the  companions  of  Mr.  Reed 
returned,  and  were  hailed  with  the  most  anxious 
eagerness.  Their  report  served  but  to  increase 
the  general  despondency.  They  had  followed 
Mr.  Reed  for  some  distance  below  the  point  to 
which  Mr.  Hunt  had  explored,  but  had  met  with 
no  Indians,  from  whom  to  obtain  information  and 
relief.  The  river  still  presented  the  same  furious 
aspect,  brawling  and  boiling  along  a  narrow  and 
rugged  channel,  between  rocks  that  rose  like 
walls. 

A  lingering  hope,  which  had  been  indulged  by 
some  of  the  party,  of  proceeding  by  water,  was 
now  finally  given  up  :  the  long  and  terrific^  strait 
of  the  river  set  all  further  progress  at  defiance, 
and  in  their  disgust  at  the  place,  and  their  vexa- 
tion at  the  disasters  sustained  there,  they  gave  it 
the  indignant  though  not  very  decorous  appella- 
tion of  the  Devil's  Scuttle  Hole. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THE  resolution  of  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions 
was  now  taken  to  set  out  immediately  on  foot. 
As  to  the  other  detachments  that  had  in  a  manner 
gone  forth  to  seek  their  fortunes,  there  was  little 
chance  of  their  return  ;  they  would  probably  make 
their  own  way  through  the  wilderness.  At  any 
rate,  to  linger  in  the  vague  hope  of  relief  from 
them  would  be  to  run  the  risk  of  perishing  with 
hunger.  Besides,  the  winter  was  rapidly  advanc- 
ing, and  they  had  a  long  journey  to  make  through 
an  unknown  country,  where  all  kinds  of  perils 
might  await  them.  They  were  yet,  in  fact,  a 
thousand  miles  from  Astoria,  but  the  distance 
was  unknown  to  them  at  the  time  ;  everything  be- 
fore and  around  them  was  vague  and  conjectural, 
and  wore  an  aspect  calculated  to  inspire  despond- 
ency. 

In  abandoning  the  river  they  would  have  to 
launch  forth  upon  vast  trackless  plains  destitute 
of  all  means  of  subsistence,  where  they  might  per- 
ish of  hunger  and  thirst.  A  dreary  desert  of  sand 
and  gravel  extends  from  Snake  River  almost  to 
the  Columbia.  Here  and  there  is  a  thin  and 
scanty  herbage,  insufficient  for  the  pastura*ge  of 
horse  or  buffalo.  Indeed  these  treeless  wastes 
between  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  Pacific  are 
even  more  desolate  and  barren  than  the  naked, 
upper  prairies  on  the  Atlantic  side  ;  they  present 
vast  desert  tracts  that  must  ever  defy  cultivation, 
and  interpose  dreary  and  thirsty  wilds  between 
the  habitations  of  man,  in  traversing  which  the 
wanderer  will  often  be  in  danger  of  perishing. 

Seeing  the  hopeless  character  of  these  wastes, 
Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions  determined  to  keep 
along  the  course  of  the  river,  where  they  would 
always  have  water  at  hand,  and  would  be  able  oc- 
casionally to  procure  fish  and  beaver,  and  might 
perchance  meet  with  Indians,  from  whom  they 
could  obtain  provisions. 

They  now  made  their  final  preparations  for  the 


march.  All  their  remaining  stock  of  provisions 
consisted  of  forty  pounds  of  Indian  corn,  twenty 
pounds  of  grease,  about  five  pounds  of  portable 
soup,  and  a  sufficient  quantity  of  dried  meat  to 
allow  each  man  a  pittance  of  five  pounds  and  a 
quarter,  to  be  reserved  for  emergencies.  This 
being  properly  distributed,  they  deposited  all  their 
goods  and  superfluous  articles  in  the  caches,  tak- 
ing nothing  with  them  but  what  was  indispensa- 
ble to  the  journey.  With  all  their  management, 
each  man  had  to  carry  twenty  pounds'  weight  be- 
side his  own  articles  and  equipments. 

That  they  might  have  the  better  chance  of  pro- 
curing subsistence  in  the  scanty  regions  they 
were  to  traverse,  they  divided  their  party  into 
two  bands,  Mr.  Hunt,  with  eighteen  men,  besides 
Pierre  Dorion  and  his  family,  was  to  proceed 
down  the  north  side  of  the  river,  while  Mr.  Crooks, 
with  eighteen  men,  kept  along  the  south  side. 

On  the  morning  of  the  gth  of  October  the  two 
parties  separated  and  set  forth  on  their  several 
courses.  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions  followed 
along  the  right  bank  of  the  river,  which  made  its 
way  far  below  them,  brawling  at  the  foot  of  per- 
pendicular precipices  of  solid  rock,  two  and  three 
hundred  feet  high.  For  twenty-eight  miles  that 
they  travelled  this  day,  they  found  it  impossible 
to  get  down  to  the  margin  of  the  stream.  At  the 
end  of  this  distance  they  encamped  for  the  night 
at  a  place  which  admitted  a  scrambling  descent. 
It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  however,  that 
they  succeeded  in  getting  up  a  kettle  of  water 
from  the  river  for  the  use  of  the  carnp.  As  some 
rain  had  fallen  in  the  afternoon,  they  passed  the 
night  under  the  shelter  of  the  rocks. 

The  next  day  they  continued  thirty-two  miles  to 
the  northwest,  keeping  along  the  river,  which 
still  ran  in  its  deep  cut  channel.  Here  and  there 
a  sandy  beach  or  a  narrow  strip  of  soil  fringed 
with  dwarf  willows  would  extend  for  a  little  dis- 
tance along  the  foot  of  the  cliffs,  and  sometimes  a 
reach  of  still  water  would  intervene  like  a  smooth 
mirror  between  the  foaming  rapids. 

As  through  the  preceding  day,  they  journeyed 
on  without  finding,  except  in  one  instance,  any 
place  where  they  could  get  down  to  the  river's 
edge,  and  they  were  fain  to  allay  the  thirst  caused 
by  hard  travelling,  with  the  water  collected  in  the 
hollow  of  the  rocks. 

In  the  course  of  their  march  on  the  following 
morning  they  fell  into  a  beaten  horse  path  lead- 
ing along  the  river,  which  showed  that  they  were 
in  the  neighborhood  of  some  Indian  village  or 
encampment.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  along 
it,  when  they  met  with  two  Shoshonies  or  Snakes. 
They  approached  with  some  appearance  of  unea- 
siness, and  accosting  Mr.  Hunt,  held  up  a  knife, 
which  by  signs  they  let  him  know  they  had  receiv- 
ed from  some  of  the  white  men  of  the  advance 
parties.  It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Mr. 
Hunt  prevailed  upon  one  of  the  savages  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  lodges  of  his  people.  Striking 
into  a  trail  or  path  which  led  up  from  the  river, 
he  guided  them  for  some  distance  in  the  prairie, 
until  they  came  in  sight  of  a  number  of  lodges 
made  of  straw,  and  shaped  like  haystacks.  Their 
approach,  as  on  former  occasions,  caused  the 
wildest  affright  among  the  inhabitants.  The 
women  hid  such  of  their  children  as  were  too 
large  to  be  carried,  and  too  small  to  take  care  of 
themselves,  under  straw,  and,  clasping  their  in- 
fants to  their  breasts,  fled  across  the  prairie.  The 
men  awaited  the  approach  ol  these  strangers,  but 
evidently  in  great  alarm. 

Mr.  Hunt  entered  the  lodges,  and,  as  he  was 


ASTORIA. 


375 


looking  about,  observed  where  the  children  were 
concealed,  their  black  eyes  glistening  like  those 
ot  snakes  from  beneath  the  straw.  He  lifted  up 
the  covering  to  look  at  them  ;  the  poor  little  be- 
ings were  horribly  frightened,  and  their  fathers 
stood  trembling  as  if  a  beast  of  prey  were  about  to 
pounce  upon  the  brood. 

The  friendly  manner  of  Mr.  Hunt  soon  dispelled 
these  apprehensions  ;  he  succeeded  in  purchasing 
some  excellent  dried  salmon,  and  a  dog,  an  ani- 
mal much  esteemed  as  food  by  the  natives  ;  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  river  one  of  the  Indians 
accompanied  him.  He  now  came  to  where  lodges 
were  frequent  along  the  banks,  and,  after  a  day's 
journey  of  twenty-six  miles  to  the  northwest,  en- 
camped in  a  populous  neighborhood.  Forty  or 
fifty  of  the  natives  soon  visited  the  camp,  conduct- 
ing themselves  in  a  very  amicable  manner.  They 
were  well  clad,  and  all  had  buffalo  robes,  which 
they  procured  from  some  of  the  hunting  tribes  in 
exchange  for  salmon.  Their  habitations  were 
very  comfortable  ;  each  had  its  pile  of  wormwood 
at  the  door  for  fuel,  and  within  was  abundance  of 
salmon,  some  fresh,  but  the  greater  part  cured. 
When  the  white  men  visited  the  lodges,  however, 
the  women  and  children  hid  themselves  through 
fear.  Among  the  supplies  obtained  here  were 
two  dogs,  on  which  our  travellers  breakfasted, 
and  found  them  to  be  very  excellent,  well  flavored, 
and  hearty  food. 

In  the  course  of  the  three  following  days  they 
made  about  sixty-three  miles,  generally  in  a  north- 
west direction.  They  met  with  many  of  the  natives 
in  their  straw-built  cabins  who  received  them  with- 
out alarm.  About  their  dwellings  were  immense 
quantities  of  the  heads  and  skins  of  salmon,  the 
best  part  of  which  had  been  cured  and  hidden  in 
the  ground.  The  women  were  badly  clad  ;  the 
children  worse  ;  their  garments  were  buffalo 
robes,  or  the  skins  of  foxes,  wolves,  hares,  and 
badgers,  and  sometimes  the  skins  of  ducks,  sewed 
together  with  the  plumage  on.  Most  of  the  skins 
must  have  been  procured  by  traffic  with  other 
tribes,  or  in  distant  hunting  excursions,  for  the 
naked  prairies  in  the  neighborhood  afforded  few 
animals,  excepting  horses,  which  were  abundant. 
There  were  signs  of  buffaloes  having  been  there, 
but  a  long  time  before. 

On  the  1 5th  of  November  they  made  twenty- 
eight  miles  along  the  river,  which  was  entirely 
free  from  rapids.  The  shores  were  lined  with 
dead  salmon,  which  tainted  the  whole  atmos- 
phere. The  natives  whom  they  met  spoke  of  Mr. 
Reed's  party  having  passed  through  that  neigh- 
borhood. In  the  course  of  the  day  Mr.  Hunt  saw 
a  few  horses,  but  the  owners  of  them  took  care  to 
hurry  them  out  of  the  way.  All  the  provisions 
they  were  able  to  procure  were  two  dogs  and  a 
salmon.  On  the  following  day  they  were  still 
worse  off,  having  to  subsist  on  parched  corn  and 
the  remains  of  their  dried  meat.  The  river  this 
day  had  resumed  its  turbulent  character,  forcing 
its  way  through  a  narrow  channel  between  steep 
rocks,  and  down  violent  rapids.  They  made 
twenty  miles  over  a  rugged  road,  gradually  ap- 
proaching a  mountain  in  the  northwest,  covered 
with  snow,  which  had  been  in  sight  for  three  days 
past. 

On  the  ijth  they  met  with  several  Indians,  one 
of  whom  had  a  horse.  Mr.  Hunt  was  extremely 
desirous  of  obtaining  it  as  a  pack-horse  ;  tor  the 
men,  worn  down  by  fatigue  and  hunger,  found 
the  loads  of  twenty  pounds' weight  which  they  had 
to  carry,  daily  growing  heavier  and  more  galling. 
The  Indians,  however,  along  this  river,  were 


never  willing  to  part  with  their  horses,  having 
none  to  spare.  The  owner  of  the  steed  in  ques- 
tion seemed  proof  against  all  temptation  ;  article 
after  article  of  great  value  in  Indian  eyes  was 
offered  and  refused.  The  charms  of  an  old  tin- 
kettle,  however,  were  irresistible,  and  a  bargain 
was  concluded. 

A  great  part  of  the  following  morning  was  con- 
sumed in  lightening  the  packages  of  the  men  and 
arranging  the  load  for  the  horse.  At  this  en- 
campment there  was  no  wood  for  fuel,  even  the 
wormwood  on  which  they  had  frequently  depend- 
ed having  disappeared.  For  the  two  last  days 
they  had  made  thirty  miles  to  the  northwest. 

On  the  1 9th  of  November  Mr.  Hunt  was  lucky 
enough  to  purchase  another  horse  for  his  own  use, 
giving  in  exchange  a  tomahawk,  a  knife,  a  fire 
steel,  and  some  beads  and  gartering.  In  an  evil 
hour,  however,  he  took  the  advice  of  the  Indians 
to  abandon  the  river,  and  follow  a  road  or  trail 
leading  into  the  prairies.  He  soon  had  cause  to 
repent  the  change.  The  road  led  across  a  dreary 
waste,  without  verdure  ;  and  where  there  was 
neither  fountain,  nor  pool,  nor  running  stream. 
The  men  now  began  to  experience  the  torments  of 
thirst,  aggravated  by  their  usual  diet  of  dried  fish. 
The  thirst  of  the  Canadian  voyageurs  became  so 
insupportable  as  to  drive  them  to  the  most  revolt- 
ing means  of  allaying  it.  For  twenty-five  miles 
did  they  toil  on  across  this  dismal  desert,  and  laid 
themselves  down  at  night,  parched  and  disconso- 
late, beside  their  wormwood  fires  ;  looking  for- 
ward to  still  greater  sufferings  on  the  following 
day.  Fortunately,  it  began  to  rain  in  the  night, 
to  their  infinite  relief  ;  the  water  soon  collected  in 
puddles  and  afforded  them  delicious  draughts. 

Refreshed  in  this  manner,  they  resumed  their 
wayfaring  as  soon  as  the  first  streaks  of  dawn  gave 
light  enough  for  them  to  see  their  path.  The  rain 
continued  all  day,  so  that  they  no  longer  suffered 
from  thirst,  but  hunger  took  its  place,  for  after 
travelling  thirty-three  miles  they  had  nothing  to 
sup  on  but  a  little  parched  corn. 

The  next  day  brought  them  to  the  banks  of  a 
beautiful  little  stream,  running  to  the  west,  and 
fringed  with  groves  of  cotton-wood  and  willow. 
On  its  borders  was  an  Indian  camp,  with  a  great 
many  horses  grazing  around  it.  The  inhabitants, 
too,  appeared  to  be  better  clad  than  usual.  The 
scene  was  altogether  a  cheering  one  to  the  poor 
half-famished  wanderers.  They  hastened  to  the 
lodges,  but  on  arriving  at  them,  met  with  a  check 
that  at  first  dampened  their  cheerfulness.  An  In- 
dian immediately  laid  claim  to  the  horse  of  Mr. 
Hunt,  saying  that  it  had  been  stolen  from  him. 
There  was  no  disproving  a  fact  supported  by  nu- 
merous bystanders,  and  which  the  horse-stealing 
habits  of  the  Indians  rendered  but  too  probable  ; 
so  Mr.  Hunt  relinquished  his  steed  to  the  claim- 
ant ;  not  being  able  to  retain  him  by  a  second 
purchase. 

At  this  place  they  encamped  for  the  night,  and 
made  a  sumptuous  repast  upon  fish  and  a  couple 
of  dogs,  procured  from  their  Indian  neighbors. 
The  next  day  they  kept  along  the  river,  but  came 
to  a  halt  after  ten  miles'  march,  on  account  of  the 
rain.  Here  they  again  got  a  supply  of  fish  and 
dogs  from  the  natives  ;  and  two  of  the  men  were 
fortunate  enough  each  to  get  a  horse  in  exchange 
for  a  buffalo  robe.  One  of  these  men  was  Pierre 
Dorion,  the  half-breed  interpreter,  to  whose  suffer- 
ing family  the  horse  was  a  most  timely  acquisition. 
And  here  we  cannot  but  notice  the  wonderful  pa- 
tience* perseverance,  and  hardihood  of  the  Indian 
women,  as  exemplified  in  the  conduct  of  the  poor 


376 


ASTORIA. 


squaw  of  the  interpreter.  She  was  now  far  ad- 
vanced in  her  pregnancy,  and  had  two  children  to 
take  care  of,  one  four,  and  the  other  two  years  of 
age.  The  latter  of  course  she  had  frequently  to 
carry  on  her  back,  in  addition  to  the  burden  usual- 
ly imposed  upon  the  squaw,  yet  she  had  borne  all 
her  hardships  without  a  murmur,  and  throughout 
this  weary  and  painful  journey  had  kept  pace  with 
the  best  of  the  pedestrians.  Indeed  on  various  oc- 
casions in  the  course  of  this  enterprise,  she  dis 
played  a  force  of  character  that  won  the  respect 
and  applause  of  the  white  men. 

Mr.  Hunt  endeavored  to  gather  some  informa- 
tion from  these  Indians  concerning  the  country 
and  the  course  of  the  rivers.  His  communications 
with  them  had  to  be  by  signs,  and  a  few  words 
which  he  had  learnt,  and  of  course  were  extremely 
vague.  All  that  he  could  learn  from  them  was 
that  the  great  river,  the  Columbia,  was  still  far  dis- 
tant, but  he  could  ascertain  nothing  as  to  the  route 
he  ought  to  take  to  arrive  at  it.  For  the  two  fol- 
lowing days  they  continued  westward  upward  of 
forty  miles  along  the  little  stream,  until  they 
crossed  it  just  before  its  junction  with  Snake 
River,  which  they  found  still  running  to  the  north. 
Before  them  was  a  wintry-looking  mountain  cov- 
ered with  snow  on  all  sides. 

In  three  days  more  they  made  about  seventy 
miles,  fording  two  small  rivers,  the  waters  of 
which  were  very  cold.  Provisions  were  extremely 
scarce  ;  their  chief  sustenance  was  portable  soup, 
a  meagre  diet  for  weary  pedestrians. 

On  the  2/th  of  November  the  river  led  them  into 
the  mountains  through  a  rocky  defile  where  there 
•vvas  scarcely  room  to  pass.  They  were  frequently 
obliged  to  unload  the  horses  to  get  them  by  the 
narrow  places,  and  sometimes  to  wade  through 
the  water  in  getting  round  rocks  and  butting  cliffs 
All  their  food  this  day  was  a  beaver  which  they 
had  caught  the  night  before  ;  by  evening  the 
cravings  of  hunger  were  so  sharp,  and  the  prospect 
of  any  supply  among  the  mountains  so  faint,  that 
they  had  to  kill  one  of  the  horses.  "  The  men," 
says  Mr.  Hunt  in  his  journal,  "  find  the  meat  very 
good,  and  indeed,  so  should  I,  were  it  not  for  the 
attachment  I  have  to  the  animal." 

Early  in  the  following  day,  after  proceeding  ten 
miles  to  the  north,  they  came  to  two  lodges  of 
Shoshonies,  who  seemed  in  nearly  as  great  an  ex- 
tremity as  themselves,  having  just  killed  two 
horses  for  food.  They  had  no  other  provisions  ex- 
cepting the  seed  of  a  weed  which  they  gather  in 
great  quantities,  and  pound  fine.  It  resembles 
hemp  seed.  Mr.  Hunt  purchased  a  bag  of  it,  and 
also  some  small  pieces  of  horse-flesh,  which  he  be- 
gan to  relish,  pronouncing  them  "  fat  and  tender." 

From  these  Indians  he  received  information  that 
several  white  men  had  gone  down  the  river,  some 
one  side,  and  a  good  many  on  the  other  ;  these 
last  he  concluded  to  be  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  party. 
He  was  thus  released  from  much  anxiety  about 
their  safety,  especially  as  the  Indians  spoke  of  Mr. 
Crooks  having  one  of  his  dogs  yet,  which  showed 
that  he  and  his  men  had  not  been  reduced  to  ex- 
tremity of  hunger. 

As  Mr.  Hunt  feared  that  he  might  be  several  days 
in  passing  through  this  mountain  defile,  and  run  the 
risk  of  famine,  he  encamped  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Indians,  for  the  purpose  of  bartering  with 
them  for  a  horse.  The  evening  was  expended  in 
ineffectual  trials.  He  offered  a  gun,  a  buffalo 
robe,  and  various  other  articles.  The  poor  fel- 
lows had,  probably,  like  himself,  the  fear  of  star- 
vation before  their  eyes.  At  length  the  women, 
learning  the  object  of  his  pressing  solicitations 


and  tempting  offers,  set  up  such  a  terrible  hue 
and  cry  that  he  was  fairly  howled  and  scolded 
from  the  ground. 

The  next  morning  early,  the  Indians  seemed 
very  desirous  to  get  rid  of  their  visitors,  fearing, 
probably,  for  the  safety  of  their  horses.  In  reply 
to  Mr.  Hunt's  inquiries  about  the  mountains,  they 
told  him  that  he  would  have  to  sleep  but  three 
nights  more  among  them,  and  that  six  days'  trav- 
elling would  take  him  to  the  falls  of  the  Columbia  ; 
information  in  which  he  put  no  faith,  believing  it 
was  only  given  to  induce  him  to  set  forward. 
These,  he  was  told,  were  the  last  Snakes  he  would 
meet  with,  and  that  he  would  soon  come  to  a  na- 
tion called  Sciatogas. 

Forward  then  did  he  proceed  on  his  tedious 
journey,  which  at  every  step  grew  more  painful. 
The  road  continued  for  two  days  through  nar- 
row defiles,  where  they  were  repeatedly  obliged 
to  unload  the  horses.  Sometimes  the  river  passed 
through  such  rocky  chasms  and  under  such  steep 
precipices  that  they  had  to  leave  it,  and  make 
their  way,  with  excessive  labor,  over  immense 
hills,  almost  impassable  for  horses.  On  some  of 
these  hills  were  a  few  pine  trees,  and  their  sum- 
mits were  covered  with  snow.  On  the  second 
day  of  this  scramble  one  of  the  hunters  killed  a 
black-tailed  deer,  which  afforded  the  half-starved 
travellers  a  sumptuous  repast.  Their  progress 
these  two  days  was  twenty-eight  miles,  a  little  to 
the  northward  of  east. 

The  month  of  December  set  in  drearily,  with 
rain  in  the  valleys  and  snow  upon  the  hills.  They 
had  to  climb  a  mountain  with  snow  to  the  midleg, 
which  increased  their  painful  toil.  A  small  beaver 
supplied  them  with  a  scanty  meal,  which  they  eked 
out  with  frozen  blackberries,  haws,  and  choke- 
cherries,  which  they  found  in  the  course  of  their 
scramble.  Their  journey  this  day,  though  exces- 
sively fatiguing,  was  but  thirteen  miles  ;  and  all 
the  next  day  they  had  to  remain  encamped,  not 
being  able  to  see  half  a  mile  ahead,  on  account 
of  a  snow-storm.  Having  nothing  else  to  eat, 
they  were  compelled  to  kill  another  of  their  horses. 
The  next  day  they  resumed  their  march  in  snow 
and  rain,  but  with  all  their  efforts  could  only  get 
forward  nine  miles,  having  for  a  part  of  the  dis- 
tance to  unload  the  horses  and  carry  the  packs 
themselves.  On  the  succeeding  morning  they 
were  obliged  to  leave  the  river  and  scramble  up 
the  hills.  From  the  summit  of  these,  they  got  a 
wide  view  of  the  surrounding  country,  and  it  was 
a  prospect  almost  sufficient  to  make  them  despair. 
In  every  direction  they  beheld  snowy  mountains, 
partially  sprinkled  with  pines  and  other  ever- 
greens, and  spreading  a  desert  and  toilsome  world 
around  them.  The  wind  howled  over  the  bleak 
and  wintry  landscape,  and  seemed  to  penetrate 
to  the  marrow  of  their  bones.  They  waded  on 
through  the  snow,  which  at  every  step  was  more 
than  knee  deep. 

After  toiling  in  this  way  all  day,  they  had  the 
mortification  to  find  that  they  were  but  four  miles 
distant  from  the  encampment  of  the  preceding 
night,  such  was  the  meandering  of  the  river 
among  these  dismal  hills.  Pinched  with  famine, 
exhausted  with  fatigue,  with  evening  approach- 
ing, and  a  wintry  wild  still  lengthening  as  they 
advanced,  they  began  to  look  forward  with  sad 
forebodings  to  the  night's  exposure  upon  this 
frightful  waste.  Fortunately  they  succeeded  in 
reaching  a  cluster  of  pines  about  sunset.  Their 
axes  were  immediately  at  work  ;  they  cut  down 
trees,  piled  them  up  in  great  heaps,  and  soon  had 
huge  fires  "  to  cheer  their  cold  and  hungry  hearts." 


ASTORIA. 


377 


About  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  it  again  be- 
gan to  snow,  and  at  daybreak  they  found  them- 
selves, as  it  were,  in  a  cloud,  scarcely  being  able 
to  distinguish  objects  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred 
yards.  Guiding  themselves  by  the  sound  of  run- 
ning water,  they  set  out  for  the  river,  and  by  slip- 
ping and  sliding  contrived  to  get  down  to  its  bank. 
One  of  the  horses,  missing  his  footing,  rolled  down 
several  hundred  yards  with  his  load,  but  sustained 
no  injury.  The  weather  in  the  valley  was  less  rig- 
orous than  on  the  hills.  The  snow  lay  but  ankle 
deep,  and  there  was  a  quiet  rain  now  falling. 
After  creeping  along  for  six  miles,  they  encamped 
on  the  border  of  the  river.  Being  utterly  destitute 
of  provisions,  they  were  again  compelled  to  kill 
one  of  their  horses  to  appease  their  famishing 
hunger. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  wanderers  had  now  accomplished  four 
hundred  and  seventy-two  miles  of  their  dreary 
journey  since  leaving  the  Caldron  Linn  ;  how  much 
further  they  had  yet  to  travel,  and  what  hardships 
to  encounter,  no  one  knew. 

On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  December  they  left 
their  dismal  encampment,  but  had  scarcely  begun 
their  march  when,  to  their  surprise,  they  beheld 
a  party  of  white  men  coming  up  along  the  oppo- 
site bank  of  the  river.  As  they  drew  nearer  they 
were  recognized  tor  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  compan- 
ions. When  they  came  opposite,  and  could  make 
themselves  heard  across  the  murmuring  of  the 
river,  their  first  cry  was  for  food  ;  in  fact,  they  were 
almost  starved.  Mr.  Hunt  immediately  returned 
to  the  camp,  and  had  a  kind  of  canoe  made  out  of 
the  skin  of  the  horse  killed  on  the  preceding 
night.  This  was  done  after  the  Indian  fashion, 
by  drawing  up  the  edges  of  the  skin  with  thongs, 
and  keeping  them  distended  by  sticks  or  thwarts 
pieces.  In  this  frail  bark,  Sardepie,  one  of  the 
Canadians,  carried  over  a  portion  of  the  flesh  of 
the  horse  to  the  famishing  party  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river,  and  brought  back  with  him  Mr. 
Crooks  and  the  Canadian,  Le  Clerc.  The  forlorn 
and  wasted  looks  and  starving  condition  of  these 
two  men  struck  dismay  to  the  hearts  of  Mr.  Hunt's 
followers.  They  had  been  accustomed  to  each 
other's  appearance,  and  to  the  gradual  operation 
of  hunger  and  hardship  upon  their  frames,  but  the 
change  in  the  looks  of  these  men,  since  last  they 
parted,  was  a  type  of  the  famine  and  desolation  of 
the  land  ;  and  they  now  began  to  indulge  the  hor- 
rible presentiment  that  they  would  all  starve  to- 
gether, or  be  reduced  to  the  direful  alternative  of 
casting  lots  ! 

When  Mr.  Crooks  had  appeased  his  hunger,  he 
gave  Mr.  Hunt  some  account  of  his  wayfaring. 
On  the  side  of  the  river  along  which  he  had  kept 
he  had  met  with  but  few  Indians,  and  those  were 
too  miserably  poor  to  yield  much  assistance.  For 
the  first  eighteen  days  after  leaving  the  Caldron 
Linn,  he  and  his  men  had  been  confined  to  half  a 
meal  in  twenty-four  hours  ;  for  three  days  follow- 
ing they  had  subsisted  on  a  single  beaver,  a  few 
wild  cherries,  and  the  soles  of  old  moccasons  ; 
and  for  the  last  six  days  their  only  animal  food 
had  been  the  carcass  of  a  dog.  They  had  been 
three  days'  journey  further  down  the  river  than 
Mr.  Hunt,  always  keeping  as  near  to  its  banks  as 
possible,  and  frequently  climbing  over  sharp  and 
rocky  ridges  that  projected  into  the  stream.  At 
length  they  had  arrived  to  where  the  mountains 
increased  in  height,  and  came  closer  to  the  river, 


with  perpendicular  precipices,  which  rendered  it 
impossible  to  keep  along  the  stream.  The  river 
here  rushed  with  incredible  velocity  through  a 
defile  not  more  than  thirty  yards  wide,  where  cas- 
cades and  rapids  succeeded  each  other  almost 
without  intermission.  Even  had  the  opposite 
banks,  therefore,  been  such  as  to  permit  a  contin- 
uance of  their  journey,  it  would  have  been  mad- 
ness to  attempt  to  pass  the  tumultuous  current, 
either  on  rafts  or  otherwise.  Still  bent,  however, 
on  pushing  forward,  they  attempted  to  climb  the 
opposing  mountains  ;  and  struggled  on  through 
the  snow  for  half  a  day  until,  coming  to  where 
they  could  command  a  prospect,  they  found  that 
they  were  not  half  way  to  the  summit,  and  that 
mountain  upon  mountain  lay  piled  beyond  them, 
in  wintry  desolation.  Famished  and  emaciated 
as  they  were,  to  continue  forward  would  be  to  per- 
ish ;  their  only  chance  seemed  to  be  to  regain  the 
river,  and  retrace  their  steps  up  its  banks.  It  was 
in  this  forlorn  and  retrograde  march  that  they 
had  met  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party. 

Mr.  Crooks  also  gave  information  of  some  others 
of  their  fellow  adventurers.  He  had  spoken  several 
days  previously  with  Mr.  Reed  and  Mr.  M'Kenzie, 
who  with  their  men  were  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river,  where  it  was  impossible  to  get  over  to  them. 
They  informed  him  that  Mr.  M'Lellan  had  struck 
across  from  the  little  river  above  the  mountains, 
in  the  hope  of  falling  in  with  some  of  the  tribe  of 
Flatheads,  who  inhabit  the  western  skirts  of  the 
Rocky  range.  As  the  companions  of  Reed  and 
M'Kenzie  were  picked  men,  and  had  found  pro- 
visions more  abundant  on  their  side  of  the  river, 
they  were  in  better  condition,  and  more  fitted  to 
contend  with  the  difficulties  of  the  country,  than 
those  of  Mr.  Crooks,  and  when  he  lost  sight  of 
them,  were  pushing  onward,  down  the  course  of 
the  river. 

Mr.  Hunt  took  a  night  to  revolve  over  his  criti- 
cal situation,  and  to  determine  what  was  to  be 
done.  No  time  was  to  be  lost  ;  he  had  twenty  men 
and  more  in  his  own  party  to  provide  for,  and 
Mr.  Crooks  and  his  men  to  relieve.  To  linger 
would  be  to  starve.  The  idea  of  retracing  his 
steps  was  intolerable,  and,  notwithstanding  all  the 
discouraging  accounts  of  the  ruggedness  of  the 
mountains  lower  down  the  river,  he  would  have 
been  disposed  to  attempt  them,  but  the  depth  of 
the  snow  with  which  they  were  covered  deterred 
him  ;  having  already  experienced  the  impossibility 
of  forcing  his  way  against  such  an  impediment. 

The  only  alternative,  therefore,  appeared  to  be  to 
return  and  seek  the  Indian  bands  scattered  along 
the  small  rivers  above  the  mountains.  Perhaps 
from  some  of  these  he  might  procure  horses  enough 
to  support  him  until  he  could  reach  the  Colum- 
bia ;  for  he  still  cherished  the  hope  of  arriving  at 
that  river  in  the  course  of  the  winter,  though  he 
was  apprehensive  that  few  of  Mr.  Crooks'  party 
would  be  sufficiently  strong  to  follow  him.  Even 
in  adopting  this  course  he  had  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  the  certainty  of  several  days  of  famine  at 
the  outset,  for  it  would  take  that  time  to  reach 
the  last  Indian  lodges  from  which  he  had  parted^ 
and  until  they  should  arrive  there  his  people 
would  have  nothing  to  subsist  upon  but  haws  and 
wild  berries,  excepting  one  miserable  horse,  which 
was  little  better  than  skin  and  bone. 

After  a  night  of  sleepless  cogitation,  Mr.  Hunt 
announced  to  his  men  the  dreary  alternative  he 
had  adopted,  and  preparations  were  made  to  take 
Mr.  Crooks  and  Le  Clerc  across  the  river,  with 
the  remainder  of  the  meat,  as  the  other  party 
were  to  keep  up  along  the  opposite  bank.  The 


378 


ASTORIA. 


skin  canoe  had  unfortunately  been  lost  in  the 
night  ;  a  raft  was  constructed,  therefore,  after  the 
manner  of  the  natives,  of  bundles  of  willows,  but 
it  could  not  be  floated  across  the  impetuous  cur- 
rent. The  men  were  directed,  in  consequence,  to 
keep  on  along  the  river  by  themselves,  while  Mr. 
Crooks  and  Le  Clerc  would  proceed  with  Mr. 
Hunt.  They  all  then  took  up  their  retrograde 
march  with  drooping  spirits. 

In  a  little  while  it  was  found  that  Mr.  Crooks 
and  Le  Clerc  were  so  feeble  as  to  walk  with  diffi- 
culty, so  that  Mr.  Hunt  was  obliged  to  retard  his 
pace,  that  they  might  keep  up  with  him.  His 
men  grew  impatient  at  the  delay.  They  murmur- 
ed that  they  had  a  long  and  desolate  region  to 
traverse,  before  they  could  arrive  at  the  point 
where  they  might  expect  to  find  horses  ;  that  it 
was  impossible  for  Crooks  and  Le  Clerc,  in  their 
feeble  condition,  to  get  over  it  ;  that  to  remain 
with  them  would  only  be  to  starve  in  their  com- 
pany. They  importuned  Mr.  Hunt,  therefore,  to 
leave  these  unfortunate  men  to  their  fate,  and 
think  only  of  the  safety  of  himself  and  his  party. 
Finding  him  not  to  be  moved,  either  by  entreaties 
or  their  clamors,  they  began  to  proceed  without 
him,  singly  and  in  parties.  Among  those  who 
thus  went  off  was  Pierre  Dorion.  the  interpreter. 
Pierre  owned  the  only  remaining  horse,  which  was 
now  a  mere  skeleton.  Mr.  Hunt  had  suggested, 
in  their  present  extremity,  that  it  should  be  killed 
for  food  ;  to  which  the  half-breed  flatly  refused 
his  assent,  and  cudgelling  the  miserable  animal 
forward,  pushed  on  sullenly,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  doggedly  determined  to  quarrel  for  his  right. 
In  this  way  Mr.  Hunt  sa\v  his  men,  one  after 
another  break  away,  until  but  five  remained  to 
bear  him  company. 

On  the  following  morning  another  raft  was 
made,  on  which  Mr.  Crooks  and  Le  Clerc  again 
attempted  to  ferry  themselves  across  the  river,  but 
after  repeated  trials  had  to  give  up  in  despair. 
This  caused  additional  delay  ;  after  which  they 
continued  to  crawl  forward  at  a  snail's  pace. 
Some  of  the  men  who  had  remained  with  Mr. 
Hunt  now  became  impatient  of  these  incum- 
brances,  and  urged  him  clamorously  to  push  for- 
ward, crying  out  that  they  should  all  starve.  The 
night  which  succeeded  was  intensely  cold,  so  that 
one  of  the  men  was  severely  frost-bitten.  In  the 
course  of  the  night  Mr.  Crooks  was  taken  ill,  and 
in  the  morning  was  still  more  incompetent  to 
travel.  Their  situation  was  now  desperate,  for 
their  stock  of  provisions  was  reduced  to  three 
beaver  skins.  Mr.  Hunt,  therefore,  resolved  to 
push  on,  overtake  his  people,  and  insist  upon  hav- 
ing the  horse  of  Pierre  Dorion  sacrificed  for  the 
relief  of  all  hands.  Accordingly  he  left  twr-  of  his 
men  to  help  Crooks  and  Le  Clerc  on  their  way, 
giving  them  two  of  the  beaver  skins  for  their  sup- 
port ;  the  remaining  skin  he  retained,  as  provision 
for  himself  and  the  three  other  men  who  struck 
forward  with  him. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

ALL  that  day  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  three  comrades 
travelled  without  eating.  At  night  they  made  a 
tantalizing  supper  on  their  beaver  ikin,  and  were 
nearly  exhausted  by  hunger  and  cold.  The  next 
day,  December  loth,  they  overtook  the  advance 
party,  who  were  all  as  much  famished  as  them- 
selves, some  of  them  not  having  eaten  since  the 
morning  of  the  seventh.  Mr.  Hunt  now  proposed 
the  sacrifice  of  Pierre  Dorion's  skeleton  horse. 


Here  he  again  met  with  positive  and  vehement 
opposition  from  the  half-breed,  who  was  too  sullen 
and  vindictive  a  fellow  to  be  easily  dealt  with. 
What  was  singular,  the  men,  though  suffering 
such  pinching  hunger,  interfered  in  favor  of  the 
horse.  They  represented  that  it  was  better  to 
keep  on  as  long  as  possible  without  resorting  tc 
this  last  resource.  Possibly  the  Indians,  of  whom 
they  were  in  quest,  might  have  shifted  their  en- 
campment, in  which  case  it  would  be  time  enough 
to  kill  the  horse  to  escape  starvation.  Mr.  Hunt, 
therefore,  was  prevailed  upon  to  grant  Pierre 
Dorion's  horse  a  reprieve. 

Fortunately,  they  had  not  proceeded  much  far- 
ther, when,  toward  evening,  they  came  in  sight 
of  a  lodge  of  Shoshonies,  with  a  number  of  horses 
grazing  around  it.  The  sight  was  as  unexpected 
as  it  was  joyous.  Having  seen  no  Indians  in  this 
neighborhood  as  they  passed  down  the  river,  they 
must  have  subsequently  come  out  from  among  the 
mountains.  Mr.  Hunt,  who  first  descried  them, 
checked  the  eagerness  of  his  companions,  know- 
ing the  unwillingness  of  these  Indians  to  part 
with  their  horses,  and  their  aptness  to  hurry  them 
off  and  conceal  them,  in  case  of  an  alarm.  This 
was  no  time  to  risk  such  a  disappointment.  Ap- 
proaching, therefore,  stealthily  and  silently,  they 
came  upon  the  savages  by  surprise,  who  fled  in 
terror.  Five  of  their  horses  were  eagerly  seized, 
and  one  was  dispatched  upon  the  spot.  The  car- 
cass was  immediately  cut  up,  and  a  part  of  it  hastily 
cooked  and  ravenously  devoured.  A  man  was 
now  sent  on  horseback  with  a  supply  of  the  flesh 
to  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  companions.  He  reached 
them  in  the  night  ;  they  were  so  famished  that  the 
supply  sent  them  seemed  but  to  aggravate  their 
hunger,  and  they  were  almost  tempted  to  kill  and 
eat  the  horse  that  had  brought  the  messenger. 
Availing  themselves  of  the  assistance  of  th2  ani- 
mal, they  reached  the  camp  early  in  the  morning. 

On  arriving  there,  Mr.  Crooks  was  shocked  to 
find  that,  while  the  people  on  this  side  of  the  river 
were  amply  supplied  with  provisions,  none  had 
been  sent  to  his  own  forlorn  and  famishing  men 
on  the  opposite  bank.  He  immediately  caused  a 
skin  canoe  to  be  constructed,  and  called  out  to  his 
men  to  fill  their  camp-kettles  with  water  and  hang 
them  over  the  fire,  that  no  time  might  be  lost  in 
cooking  the  meat  the  moment  it  should  be  receiv- 
ed. The  river  was  so  narrow,  though  deep,  that 
everything  could  be  distinctly  heard  and  seen 
across  it.  The  kettles  were  placed  on  the  fire, 
and  the  water  was  boiling  by  the  time  the  canoe 
was  completed.  When  all  was  ready,  however, 
no  one  would  undertake  to  ferry  the  meat  across. 
A  vague  and  almost  superstitious  terror  had  in- 
fected the  minds  of  Mr.  Hunt's  followers,  enfee- 
bled and  rendered  imaginative  of  horrors  by  the 
dismal  scenes  and  sufferings  through  which  they 
had  passed.  They  regarded  the  haggard  crew, 
hovering  like  spectres  of  famine  on  the  opposite 
bank,  with  indefinite  feelings  of  awe  and  appre- 
hension, as  if  something  desperate  and  danger- 
ous was  to  be  feared  from  them. 

Mr.  Crooks  tried  in  vain  to  reason  or  shame  them 
out  of  this  singular  state  of  mind.  He  then  attempt- 
ed to  navigate  the  canoe  himself,  but  found  his 
strength  incompetent  to  brave  the  impetuous  cur- 
rent. The  good  feelings  of  Ben  Jones,  the  Ken- 
tuckian,  at  length  overcame  his  fears,  and  he  ven- 
tured over.  The  supply  he  brought  was  received 
with  trembling  avidity.  A  poor  Canadian,  how- 
ever, named  Jean  Baptiste  Prevost,  whom  famine 
had  rendered  wild  and  desperate,  ran  frantically 
about  the  bank,  after  Jones  had  returned,  crying 


ASTORIA. 


379 


out  to  Mr.  Hunt  to  send  the  canoe  for  him,  and 
take  him  from  that  horrible  region  of  famine,  de- 
claring that  otherwise  he  would  never  march 
another  step,  but  would  lie  down  there  and  die. 

The  canoe  was  shortly  sent  over  again  under 
the  management  of  Joseph  Delaunay,  with  fur- 
ther supplies.  Prevost  immediately  pressed  for- 
ward to  embark.  Delaunay  refused  to  admit  him, 
telling  him  that  there  was  now  a  sufficient  supply 
of  meat  on  his  side  of  the  river.  He  replied  that 
it  was  not  cooked,  and  he  should  starve  before  it 
was  ready  ;  he  implored,  therefore,  to  be  taken 
where  he  could  get  something  to  appease  his 
hunger  immediately.  Finding  the  canoe  putting 
off  without  him,  he  forced  himself  aboard.  As  he 
drew  near  the  opposite  shore,  and  beheld  meat 
roasting  before  the  fire,  he  jumped  up,  shouted, 
clapped  his  hands,  and  danced  in  a  delirium  of 
joy,  until  he  upset  the  canoe.  The  poor  wretch 
was  swept  away  by  the  current  and  drowned,  and 
it  was  with  extreme  difficulty  that  Delaunay  reach- 
ed the  shore. 

Mr.  Hunt  now  sent  all  his  men  forward  except- 
ing two  or  three.  In  the  evening  he  caused 
another  horse  to  be  killed,  and  a  canoe  to  be  made 
out  of  the  skin,  in  which  he  sent  over  a  further 
supply  of  meat  to  the  opposite  party.  The  canoe 
brought  back  John  Day,  the  Kentucky  hunter, 
who  came  to  join  his  former  employer  and  com- 
mander, Mr.  Crooks.  Poor  Day,  once  so  active 
and  vigorous,  was  now  reduced  to  a  condition 
even  more  feeble  and  emaciated  than  his  compan- 
ions. Mr.  Crooks  had  such  a  value  for  the  man, 
on  account  of  his  past  services  and  faithful  char- 
acter, that  he  determined  not  to  quit  him  ;  he  ex- 
horted Mr.  Hunt,  however,  to  proceed  forward, 
and  join  the  party,  as  his  presence  was  all  impor- 
tant to  the  conduct  of  the  expedition.  One  of  the 
Canadians,  Jean  Baptiste  Dubreuil,  likewise  re- 
mained with  Mr.  Crooks. 

Mr.  Hunt  left  two  horses  with  them,  and  a  part 
of  the  carcass  of  the  last  that  had  been  killed. 
This,  he  hoped,  would  be  sufficient  to  sustain  them 
until  they  should  reach  the  Indian  encampment. 

One  of  the  chief  dangers  attending  the  enfeebled 
condition  of  Mr.  Crooks  and  his  companions  was 
their  being  overtaken  by  the  Indians  whose  horses 
had  been  seized,  though  Mr.  Hunt  hoped  that  he 
had  guarded  against  any  resentment  on  the  part 
of  the  savages,  by  leaving  various  articles  in  their 
lodge,  more  than  sufficient  to  compensate  for  the 
outrage  he  had  been  compelled  to  commit. 

Resuming  his  onward  course,  Mr.  Hunt  came 
up  with  his  people  in  the  evening.  The  next  day, 
December  I3th,  he  beheld  several  Indians,  with 
three  horses,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  and 
after, a  time  came  to  the  two  lodges  which  he  had 
seen  on  going  down.  Here  he  endeavored  in 
vain  to  barter  a  rifle  for  a  horse,  but  again  suc- 
ceeded in  effecting  the  purchase  with  an  old  tin 
kettle,  aided  by  a  few  beads. 

The  two  succeeding  days  were  cold  and  stormy  ; 
the  snow  was  augmenting,  and  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  ice  running  in  the  river.  Their  road, 
however,  was  becoming  easier  ;  they  were  getting 
out  of  the  hills,  and  finally  emerged  into  the  open 
country,  after  twenty  days  of  fatigue,  famine,  and 
hardship  of  every  kind,  in  the  ineffectual  attempt 
to  find  a  passage  down  the  river. 

They  now  encamped  on  a  little  willowed  stream, 
running  from  the  east,  which  they  had  crossed  on 
the  26th  of  November.  Here  they  found  a  dozen 
lodges  of  Shoshonies,  recently  arrived,  who  in- 
formed them  that  had  they  persevered  along  the 
river,  they  would  have  found  their  difficulties  aug- 


ment until  they  became  absolutely  insurmounta- 
ble. This  intelligence  added  to  the  anxiety  of 
Mr.  Hunt  for  the  fate  of  Mr.  M'Kenzie  and  his 
people,  who  had  kept  on. 

Mr.  Hunt  now  followed  up  the  little  river,  and 
encamped  at  some  lodges  of  Shoshonies,  from 
whom  he  procured  a  couple  of  horses,  a  dog,  a 
few  dried  fish,  and  some  roots  and  dried  cherries. 
Two  or  three  days  were  exhausted  in  obtaining 
information  about  the  route,  and  what  time  it 
would  take  to  get  to  the  Sciatogas,  a  hospitable 
tribe  on  the  west  side  of  the  mountains,  repre- 
sented as  having  many  horses.  The  replies  were 
various,  but  concurred  in  saying  that  the  distance 
was  great,  and  would  occupy  from  seventeen  to 
twenty-one  nights.  Mr.  Hunt  then  tried  to  pro- 
cure a  guide  ;  but  though  he  sent  to  various  lodges 
up  and  down  the  river,  offering  articles  of  great 
value  in  Indian  estimation,  no  one  would  venture. 
The  snow,  they  said,  was  waist  deep  in  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  to  all  his  offers  they  shook  their  heads, 
gave  a  shiver,  and  replied,  "  We  shall  freeze  !  we 
shall  Ireeze  !"  At  the  same  time  they  urged  him 
to  remain  and  pass  the  winter  among  them. 

Mr.  Hunt  was  in  a  dismal  dilemma.  To  at- 
tempt the  mountains  without  a  guide  would  be 
certain  death  to  him  and  all  his  people  ;  to  re- 
main there,  after  having  already  been  so  long  on 
the  journey,  and  at  such  great  expense,  was  worse 
to  him,  he  said,  than  "  two  deaths."  He  now 
changed  his  tone  with  the  Indians,  charged  them 
with  deceiving  him  in  respect  to  the  mountains, 
and  talking  with  a  "  forked  tongue,"  or,  in  other 
words,  with  lying.  He  upbraided  them  with  their 
want  of  courage,  and  told  them  they  were  women, 
to  shrink  from  the  perils  of  such  a  journey.  At 
length  one  of  them,  piqued  by  his  taunts,  or 
tempted  by  his  offers,  agreed  to  be  his  guide  ;  for 
which  he  was  to  receive  a  gun,  a  pistol,  three 
knives,  two  horses,  and  a  little  of  every  article  in 
possession  of  the  party  ;  a  reward  sufficient  to 
make  him  one  of  the  wealthiest  of  his  vagabond 
nation. 

Once  more,  then,  on  the  2ist  of  December,  they 
set  out  upon  their  wayfaring  with  newly  excited 
spirits.  Two  other  Indians  accompanied  their 
guide,  who  led  them  immediately  back  to  Snake 
River,  which  they  followed  down  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, in  search  of  some  Indian  rafts  made  of 
reeds,  on  which  they  might  cross.  Finding  none, 
Mr.  Hunt  caused  a  horse  to  be  killed  and  a  ca- 
noe to  be  made  out  of  its  skin.  Here,  on  the 
opposite  bank,  they  saw  the  thirteen  men  of  Mr. 
Crooks'  party,  who  had  continued  up  along  the 
river.  They  told  Mr.  Hunt,  across  the  stream, 
that  they  had  not  seen  Mr.  Crooks,  and  the  two 
men  who  had  remained  with  him,  since  the  day 
that  he  had  separated  from  them. 

The  canoe  proving  too  small,  another  horse 
was  killed,  and  the  skin  of  it  joined  to  that  of  the 
first.  Night  came  on  before  the  little  bark  had 
made  more  than  two  voyages.  Being  badly 
made,  it  was  taken  apart  and  put  together  again, 
by  the  light  of  the  fire.  The  night  was  cold  ;  the 
men  were  weary  and  disheartened  with  such  va- 
ried and  incessant  toil  and  hardship.  They  crouch- 
ed, dull  and  drooping,  around  their  fires  ;  many  of 
them  began  to  express  a  wish  to  remain  where 
they  were  for  the  winter.  The  very  necessity  of 
crossing  the  river  dismayed  some  of  them  in  their 
present  enfeebled  and  dejected  state.  It  was  rapid 
and  turbulent,  and  filled  with  floating  ice,  and 
they  remembered  that  two  of  their  comrades  had 
already  perished  in  its  waters.  Others  looked 
forward  with  misgivings  to  the  long  and  dismal 


380 


ASTORIA. 


journey  through  lonesome  regions  that  awaited 
them,  when  they  should  have  passed  this  dreary 
flood. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  morning,  December 
23d,  they  began  to  cross  the  river.  Much  ice  had 
formed  during  the  night,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
break  it  for  some  distance  on  each  shore.  At 
length  they  all  got  over  in  safety  to  the  west  side  ; 
and  their  spirits  rose  on  having  achieved  this  per- 
ilous passage.  Here  they  were  rejoined  by  the 
people  of  Mr.  Crooks,  who  had  with  them  a  horse 
and  a  dog,  which  they  had  recently  procured.  The 
poor  fellows  were  in  the  most  squalid  and  emaciated 
state.  Three  of  them  were  so  completely  prostrated 
in  strength  and  spirits  that  they  expressed  a  wish 
to  remain  among  the  Snakes.  Mr.  Hunt,  there- 
fore, gave  them  the  canoe,  that  they  might  cross 
the  river,  and  a  few  articles,  with  which  to  pro- 
cure necessaries  until  they  should  meet  with 
Mr.  Crooks.  There  was  another  man,  named 
Michael  Carriere,  who  was  almost  equally  reduced, 
but  he  determined  to  proceed  with  his  comrades, 
who  were  now  incorporated  with  the  party  of  Mr. 
Hunt.  After  the  day's  exertions  they  encamped 
together  on  the  banks  of  the  river.  This  was  the 
last  night  they  were  to  spend  upon  its  borders. 
More  than  eight  hundred  miles  of  hard  travelling 
and  many  weary  days  had  it  cost  them,  and  the 
sufferings  connected  with  it  rendered  it  hateful 
in  their  remembrance,  so  that  the  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs  always  spoke  of  it  as  "  La  maudite  riviere 
enragee" — the  accursed  mad  river,  thus  coupling 
a  malediction  with  its  name. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

ON  the  24th  of  December,  all  things  being  ar- 
ranged, Mr.  Hunt  turned  his  back  upon  the  disas- 
trous banks  of  Snake  River,  and  struck  his  course 
westward  for  the  mountains.  His  party,  being 
augmented  by  the  late  followers  of  Mr.  Crooks, 
amounted  now  to  thirty-two  white  men,  three  In- 
dians, and  the  squaw  and  two  children  of  Pierre 
Dorion.  Five  jaded,  half-starved  horses  were 
laden  with  their  luggage,  and,  in  case  of  need, 
were  to  furnish  them  with  provisions.  They  trav- 
elled painfully  about  fourteen  miles  a  day,  over 
plains  and  among  hills,  rendered  dreary  by  occa- 
sional falls  of  snow  and  rain.  Their  only  suste- 
nance was  a  scanty  meal  of  horse-flesh  once  in 
four-and-twenty  hours. 

On  the  third  day  the  poor  Canadian,  Carriere, 
one  of  the  famished  party  of  Mr.  Crooks,  gave  up 
in  despair,  and  lying  down  upon  the  ground  de- 
clared he  could  go  no  farther.  Efforts  were  made 
to  cheer  him  up,  but  it  was  found  that  the  poor 
fellow  was  absolutely  exhausted  and  could  not 
keep  on  his  legs.  He  was  mounted,  therefore, 
upon  one  of  the  horses,  though  the  forlorn  animal 
was  in  little  better  plight  than  himself. 

On  the  28th  they  came  upon  a  small  stream 
winding  to  the  north,  through  a  fine  level  valley, 
the  mountains  receding  on  each  side.  Here  their 
Indian  friends  pointed  out  a  chain  of  woody 
mountains  to  the  left,  running  north  and  south, 
and  covered  with  snow,  over  which  they  would 
have  to  pass.  They  kept  along  the  valley  for 
twenty-one  miles  on  the  2gth,  suffering  much  from 
a  continued  fall  of  snow  and  rain,  and  being  twice 
obliged  to  ford  the  icy  stream.  Early  in  the  fol- 
lowing morning  the  squaw  of  Pierre  Dorion,  who 
had  hitherto  kept  on  without  murmuring  or  flinch- 
ing, was  suddenly  taken  in  labor,  and  enriched 


her  husband  with  another  child.  As  the  fortitude 
and  good  conduct  of  the  poor  woman  had  gained 
for  her  the  good-will  of  the  party,  her  situation 
caused  concern  and  perplexity.  Pierre,  however, 
treated  the  matter  as  an  occurrence  that  could 
soon  be  arranged  and  need  cause  no  delay.  He 
remained  by  his  wife  in  the  camp,  with  his  other 
children  and  his  horse,  and  promised  soon  to  re- 
join the  main  body,  who  proceeded  on  their 
march. 

Finding  that  the  little  river  entered  the  moun- 
tains, they  abandoned  it,  and  turned  off  for  a  few 
miles  among  hills.  Here  another  Canadian, 
named  La  Bonte,  gave  out,  and  had  to  be  helped 
on  horseback.  As  the  horse  was  too  weak  to 
bear  both  him  and  his  pack,  Mr.  Hunt  took  the 
latter  upon  his  own  shoulders.  Thus,  with  diffi- 
culties augmenting  at  every  step,  they  urged  their 
toilsome  way  among  the  hills,  half  famished  and 
faint  at  heart,  when  they  came  to  where  a  fair  val- 
ley spread  out  before  them  of  great  extent,  and 
several  leagues  in  width,  with  a  beautiful  stream 
meandering  through  it.  A  genial  climate  seemed 
to  prevail  here,  for  though  the  snow  lay  upon  all 
the  mountains  within  sight,  there  was  none  to  be 
seen  in  the  valley.  The  travellers  gazed  with  de- 
light upon  this  serene,  sunny  landscape,  but  their 
joy  was  complete  on  beholding  six  lodges  of  Sho- 
shonies  pitched  upon  the  borders  of  the  stream, 
with  a  number  of  horses  and  dogs  about  them. 
They  all  pressed  forward  with  eagerness  and  soon 
reached  the  camp.  Here  their  first  attention  was 
to  obtain  provisions.  A  rifle,  an  old  musket,  a 
tomahawk,  a  tin  kettle,  and  a  small  quantity  of 
ammunition  soon  procured  them  four  horses,  three 
clogs,  and  some  roots.  Part  of  the  live  stock  was 
immediately  killed,  cooked  with  all  expedition, 
and  as  promptly  devoured.  A  hearty  meal  re- 
stored every  one  to  good  spirits.  In  the  course 
of  the  following  mornjng  the  Dorion  family  made 
its  reappearance.  Pierre  came  trudging  in  the 
advance,  followed  by  his  valued,  though  skeleton 
steed,  on  which  was  mounted  his  squaw  with  the 
new-born  infant  in  her  arms,  and  her  boy  of  two 
years  old  wrapped  in  a  blanket  and  slung  at  her 
side.  The  mother  looked  as  unconcerned  as  if  noth- 
ing had  happened  to  her  ;  so  easy  is  nature  in  her 
operations  in  the  wilderness,  when  free  from  the 
enieebling  refinements  of  luxury,  and  the  tamper- 
ings  and  appliances  of  art. 

The  next  morning  ushered  in  the  new  year 
(1812).  Mr.  Hunt  was  about  to  resume  his  march 
when  his  men  requested  permission  to  celebrate 
the  day.  This  was  particularly  urged  by  the 
Canadian  voyageurs,  with  whom  new-year's  day 
is  a  favorite  festival,  and  who  never  willingly 
give  up  a  holiday,  under  any  circumstances. 
There  was  no  resisting  such  an  application  ;  so 
the  day  was  passed  in  repose  and  revelry  ;  the 
poor  Canadians  contrived  to  sing  and  dance  in 
defiance  of  all  their  hardships,  and  there  was  a 
sumptuous  new-year's  banquet  of  dog's-meat  and 
horse-flesh. 

After  two  days  of  welcome  rest  the  travellers 
addressed  themselves  once  more  to  their  painful 
journey.  The  Indians  of  the  lodges  pointed  out 
a  distant  gap  through  which  they  must  pass  in 
traversing  the  ridge  of  mountains.  They  assured 
them  that  they  would  be  but  little  incommoded 
by  snow,  and  in  three  days  would  arrive  among 
the  Sciatogas.  Mr.  Hunt,  however,  had  been  so 
frequently  deceived  by  Indian  accounts  of  routes 
and  distances,  that  he  gave  but  little  faith  to  this 
information. 

The  travellers  continued  their  course  due  west 


ASTORIA. 


381 


for  five  days,  crossing  the  valley  and  entering  the 
mountains.  Here  the  travelling  became  excess- 
ively toilsome,  across  rough  stony  ridges,  and 
amid  fallen  trees.  They  were  often  knee  deep  in 
snow,  and  sometimes  in  the  hollows  between  the 
ridges  sank  up  to  their  waists.  The  weather  was 
extremely  cold,  the  sky  covered  with  clouds,  so 
that  for  days  they  had  not  a  glimpse  of  the  sun. 
In  traversing  the  highest  ridge  they  had  a  wide 
but  chilling  prospect  over  a  wilderness  of  snowy 
mountains. 

On  the  6th  of  January,  however,  they  had  crossed 
the  dividing  summit  of  the  chain,  and  were  evi- 
dently under  the  influence  of  a  milder  climate. 
The  snow  began  to  decrease,  the  sun  once  more 
emerged  from  the  thick  canopy  of  clouds,  and 
shone  cheeringly  upon  them,  and  they  caught  a 
sight  of  what  appeared  to  be  a  plain  stretching 
out  in  the  west.  They  hailed  it  as  the  poor  Is- 
raelites hailed  the  first  glimpse  of  the  promised 
land,  for  they  flattered  themselves  that  this  might 
be  the  great  plain  of  the  Columbia,  and  that  their 
painful  pilgrimage  might  be  drawing  to  a  close. 

It  was  now  five  days  since  they  had  left,  the 
lodges  of  the  Shoshonies,  during  which  they  had 
come  about  sixty  miles,  and  their  guide  assured 
them  that  in  the  course  of  the  next  day  they  would 
see  the  Sciatogas. 

On  the  following  morning,  therefore,  they  push- 
ed forward  with  eagerness,  and  soon  fell  upon  a 
small  stream  which  led  them  through  a  deep,  nar- 
row defile,  between  stupendous  ridges.  Here 
among  the  rocks  and  precipices  they  saw  gangs 
of  that  mountain-loving  animal,  the  black-tailed 
deer,  and  came  to  where  great  tracks  of  horses 
were  to  be  seen  in  all  directions,  made  by  the  In- 
dian hunters. 

The  snow  had  entirely  disappeared,  and  the 
hopes  of  soon  coming  upon  some  Indian  encamp- 
ment induced  Mr.  Hunt  to  press  on.  Many  of  the 
men,  however,  were  so  enfeebled  that  they  could 
not  keep  up  with  the  main  body,  but  lagged,  at 
intervals,  behind,  and  some  of  them  did  not  ar- 
rive at  the  night  encampment.  In  the  course  of 
this  day's  march  the  recently  born  child  of  Pierre 
Dorion  died. 

The  march  was  resumed  early  the  next  morn- 
ing, without  waiting  tor  the  stragglers.  The 
stream  which  they  had  followed  throughout  the 
preceding  day  was  now  swollen  by  the  influx  of 
another  river  ;  the  declivities  of  the  hills  were 
green  and  the  valleys  were  clothed  with  grass.  At 
length  the  jovial  cry  was  given  of  "an  Indian 
camp  !"  It  was  yet  in  the  distance,  in  the  bosom 
of  the  green  valley,  but  they  could  perceive  that  it 
consisted  of  numerous  lodges,  and  that  hundreds 
of  horses  were  grazing  the  grassy  meadows  around 
it.  The  prospect  of  abundance  of  horse-flesh  dif- 
fused universal  joy,  for  by  this  time  the  whole 
stock  of  travelling  provisions  was  reduced  to  the 
skeleton  steed  of  Pierre  Dorion,  and  another 
wretched  animal,  equally  emaciated,  that  had 
been  repeatedly  reprieved  during  the  journey. 

A  forced  march  soon  brought  the  weary  and 
hungry  travellers  to  the  camp.  It  proved  to  be  a 
strong  party  of  Sciatogas  and  Tus-che-pas.  There 
were  thirty-four  lodges,  comfortably  constructed  of 
mats  ;  the  Indians,  too,  were  better  clothed  than 
any  of  the  wandering  bands  they  had  hitherto 
met  on  this  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Indeed 
they  were  as  well  clad  as  the  generality  of  the  wild 
hunter  tribes.  Each  had  a  good  buffalo  or  deer 
skin  robe  ;  and  a  deer  skin  hunting  shirt  and  leg- 
gins.  Upward  of  two  thousand  horses  were  rang- 
ing the  pastures  around  their  encampment ;  but 


what  delighted  Mr.  Hunt  was,  on  entering  the 
lodges,  to  behold  brass  kettles,  axes,  copper  tea- 
kettles, and  various  other  articles  of  civilized  man- 
ufacture, which  showed  that  these  Indians  had  an 
indirect  communication  with  the  people  of  the  sea- 
coast  who  traded  with  the  whites.  He  made  eager 
inquiries  of  the  Sciatogas,  and  gathered  from  them 
that  the  great  river  (the  Columbia),  was  but  two 
days'  march  distant,  and  that  several  white  people 
had  recently  descended  it,  who  he  hoped  might 
prove  to  be  M'Lellan,  M'Kenzie,  and  their  com- 
panions. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  joy,  and  the  most  pro- 
found gratitude  to  Heaven,  that  Mr.  Hunt  found 
himselt  and  his  band  of  weary  and  famishing 
wanderers,  thus  safely  extricated  from  the  most 
perilous  part  of  their  long  journey,  and  within  the 
prospect  of  a  termination  of  their  toils.  All  the 
stragglers,  who  had  lagged  behind,  arrived,  one 
after  another,  excepting  the  poor  Canadian  voya- 
geur,  Carriere.  He  had  been  seen  late  in  the  prece- 
ding afternoon,  riding  behind  a  Snake  Indian,  near 
some  lodges  of  that  nation,  a  few  miles  distant 
from  the  last  night's  encampment,  and  it  was 
expected  that  he  would  soon  make  his  appearance. 

The  first  object  of  Mr.  Hunt  was  to  obtain  pro- 
visions for  his  men.  A  little  venison,  of  an  in- 
different quality,  and  some  roots  were  all  that 
could  be  procured  that  evening  ;  but  the  next  day 
he  succeeded  in  purchasing  a  mare  and  colt, 
which  were  immediately  killed,  and  the  cravings 
of  the  half-starved  people  in  some  degree  appeased. 

For  several  days  they  remained  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  these  Indians,  reposing  after  all  their  hard- 
ships, and  feasting  upon  horse-flesh  and  roots, 
obtained  in  subsequent  traffic.  Many  of  the  people 
ate  to  such  excess  as  to  render  themselves  sick, 
others  were  lame  from  their  past  journey  ;  but  all 
gradually  recruited  in  the  repose  and  abundance 
of  the  valley.  Horses  were  obtained  here  much 
more  readily  and  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  among 
the  Snakes.  A  blanket,  a  knife,  or  a  half  pound 
of  blue  beads  would  purchase  a  steed,  and  at  this 
rate  many  of  the  men  bought  horses  lor  their  indi- 
vidual use. 

This  tribe  of  Indians,  who  are  represented  as  a 
proud-spirited  race,  and  uncommonly  cleanly, 
never  eat  horses  nor  dogs,  nor  would  they  permit 
the  raw  flesh  of  either  to  be  brought  into  their 
huts.  They  had  a  small  quantity  of  venison  in 
each  lodge,  but  set  so  high  a  price  upon  it  that 
the  white  men,  in  their  impoverished  state,  could 
not  afford  to  purchase  it.  They  hunted  the  deer 
on  horseback,  "ringing,"  or  surrounding  them, 
and  running  them  down  in  a  circle.  They  were 
admirable  horsemen,  and  their  \veapons  were 
bows  and  arrows,  which  they  managed  with  great 
dexterity.  They  \vere  altogether  primitive  in  their 
habits,  and  seemed  to  cling  to  the  usages  of  sav- 
age life,  even  when  possessed  of  the  aids  of  civili- 
zation. They  had  axes  among  them,  yet  they  gen- 
erally made  use  of  a  stone  mallet  wrought  into 
the  shape  of  a  bottle,  and  wedges  of  elk-horn,  in 
splitting  their  wood.  Though  they  might  have 
two  or  three  brass  kettles  hanging  in  their  lodges, 
yet  they  would  frequently  use  vessels  made  ot 
willow,  for  carrying  water,  and  would  even  boil 
their  meat  in  them,  by  means  of  hot  stones.  Their 
women  wore  caps  of  willow  neatly  worked  and 
figured. 

As  Carriere,  the  Canadian  straggler,  did  not 
make  his  appearance  for  two  or  three  clays  after 
the  encampment  in  the  valley,  two  men  were  sent 
out  on  horseback  in  search  of  him.  They  return- 
ed, however,  without  success.  The  lodges  of  the 


382 


ASTORIA. 


Snake  Indians  near  which  he  had  been  seen  were 
removed,  and  they  could  find  no  trace  of  him. 
Several  days  more  elapsed,  yet  nothing  was  seen 
or  heard  of  him,  or  of  the  Snake  horseman,  behind 
whom  he  had  been  last  observed.  It  was  feared, 
therefore,  that  he  had  either  perished  through 
hunger  and  fatigue  ;  had  been  murdered  by  the 
Indians  ;  or,  being  left  to  himself,  had  mistaken 
some  hunting  tracks  for  the  trail  of  the  party,  and 
been  led  astray  and  lost. 

The  river  on  the  banks  of  which  they  were  en- 
camped, emptied  into  the  Columbia,  was  called  by 
the  natives  the  Eu-o-tal-la,  or  Umatalla,  and 
abounded  with  beaver.  In  the  course  of  their  so- 
journ in  the  valley  which  it  watered,  they  twice 
shifted  their  camp,  proceeding  about  thirty  miles 
down  its  course,  which  was  to  the  west.  A  heavy 
fall  of  rain  caused  the  river  to  overflow  its  banks, 
dislodged  them  from  their  encampment,  and 
drowned  three  of  their  horses,  which  were  tether- 
ed in  the  low  ground. 

Further  conversation  with  the  Indians  satisfied 
them  that  they  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
Columbia.  The  number  of  the  white  men  who 
they  said  had  passed  down  the  river,  agreed  with 
that  of  M'Lellan,  M'Kenzie,  and  their  compan- 
ions, and  increased  the  hope  of  Mr.  Hunt  that 
they  might  have  passed  through  the  wilderness 
with  safety. 

These  Indians  had  a  vague  story  that  white 
men  were  coming  to  trade  among  them  ;  and  they 
often  spoke  of  two  great  men  named  Ke-Koosh 
and  Jacquean,  who  gave  them  tobacco,  and 
smoked  with  them.  Jacquean,  they  said,  had  a 
house  somewhere  upon  the  great  river.  Some  of 
the  Canadians  supposed  they  were  speaking  of 
one  Jacquean  Finlay,  a  clerk  of  the  Northwest 
Company,  and  inferred  that  the  house  must  be 
some  trading  post  on  one  of  the  tributary  streams 
of  the  Columbia.  The  Indians  were  overjoyed 
when  they  found  this  band  of  white  men  intended 
to  return  and  trade  with  them.  They  promised  to 
use  all  diligence  in  collecting  quantities  of  beaver 
skins,  and  no  doubt  proceeded  to  make  deadly 
war  upon  that  sagacious,  but  ill-fated  animal, 
who,  in  general,  lived  in  peaceful  insignificance 
among  his  Indian  neighbors,  before  the  intrusion 
of  the  white  trader.  On  the  2oth  of  January,  Mr. 
Hunt  took  leave  of  these  friendly  Indians,  and  of 
the  river  on  which  they  were  encamped,  and 
continued  westward. 

At  length,  on  the  following  day,  the  wayworn 
travellers  lifted  up  their  eyes  and  beheld  before 
them  the  long-sought  waters  of  the  Columbia.  The 
sight  was(  hailed  with  as  much  transport  as  if  they 
had  alrea'dy  reached  the  end  of  their  pilgrimage  ; 
nor  can  we  wonder  at  their  joy.  Two  hundred 
and  forty  miles  had  they  marched,  through  wintry 
wastes  and  rugged  mountains,  since  leaving  Snake 
River  ;  and  six  months  of  perilous  wayfaring  had 
they  experienced  since  their  departure  from  the 
Arickara  village  on  the  Missouri.  Their  whole 
route  by  land  and  water  from  that  point  had  been, 
according  to  their  computation,  seventeen  hun- 
dred and  fifty-one  miles,  in  the  course  of  which 
they  had  endured  all  kinds  of  hardships.  In  fact, 
the  necessity  of  avoiding  the  dangerous  country 
of  the  Blackfeet  had  obliged  them  to  make  a  bend 
to  the  south,  and  to  traverse  a  great  additional  ex- 
tent of  unknown  wilderness. 

The  place  where  they  struck  the  Columbia  was 
some  distance  below  the  junction  of  its  two  great 
branches,  Lewis  and  Clarke  Rivers,  and  not  far 
from  the  influx  of  the  Wallah-Wallah.  It  was  a 
beautiful  stream,  three  quarters  of  a  mile  wide, 


totally  free  from  trees  ;  bordered  in  some  places 
with  steep  rocks,  in  others  with  pebbled  shores. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Columbia  they  found  a  mis- 
erable horde  of  Indians,  called  Akai-chies,  with 
no  clothing  but  a  scanty  mantle  of  the  skins  of 
animals,  and  sometimes  a  pair  of  sleeves  of  wolf's 
skin.  Their  lodges  were  shaped  like  a  tent,  and 
very  tight  and  warm,  being  covered  with  mats  of 
rushes  ;  beside  which  they  had  excavations  on 
the  ground,  lined  with  mats,  and  occupied  by  the 
women,  who  were  even  more  slightly  clad  than 
the  men.  These  people  subsisted  chiefly  by  fish- 
ing ;  having  canoes  of  a  rude  construction,  being 
merely  the  trunks  of  pine  trees  split  and  hollowed 
out  by  fire.  Their  lodges  were  well  stored  with 
dried  salmon,  and  they  had  great  quantities  of 
fresh  salmon  trout  of  an  excellent  flavor,  taken  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Umatalla  ;  of  which  the  trav- 
ellers obtained  a  most  acceptable  supply. 

Finding  that  the  road  was  on  the  north  side  of 
the  river,  Mr.  Hunt  crossed,  and  continued  five 
or  six  days  travelling  rather  slowly  down  along 
its  banks,  being  much  delayed  by  the  straying  of 
the  horses,  and  the  attempts  made  by  the  Indians 
to  steal  them.  They  frequently  passed  lodges, 
where  they  obtained  fish  and  dogs.  At  one  place 
the  natives  had  just  returned  from  hunting,  and 
had  brought  back  a  large  quantity  of  elk  and  deer 
meat,  but  asked  so  high  a  price  tor  it  as  to  be  be- 
yond the  funds  of  the  travellers,  so  they  had  to 
content  themselves  with  dog's  flesh.  They  had 
by  this  time,  however,  come  to  consider  it  very 
choice  food,  superior  to  horse  flesh,  and  the  min- 
utes of  the  expedition  speak  rather  exultingly  now 
and  then,  of  their  having  made  a  "  famous  re- 
past," where  this  viand  happened  to  be  unusually 
plenty. 

They  again  learnt  tidings  of  some  of  the  scat- 
tered members  of  the  expedition,  supposed  to  be 
M'Kenzie,  M'Lellan,  and  their  men,  who  had  pre- 
ceded them  down  the  river,  and  had  overturned 
one  of  their  canoes,  by  which  they  lost  many  arti- 
cles. All  these  floating  pieces  of  intelligence  of 
their  fellow  adventurers,  who  had  separated  from 
them  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  they  received 
with  eager  interest. 

The  weather  continued  to  be  temperate,  mark- 
ing the  superior  softness  of  the  climate  on  this 
side  of  the  mountains.  For  a  great  part  of  the 
time,  the  days  were  delightfully  mild  and  clear, 
like  the  serene  days  of  October,  on  the  Atlantic 
borders.  The  country  in  general,  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  river,  was  a  continual  plain,  low 
near  the  water,  but  rising  gradually  ;  destitute  of 
trees,  and  almost  without  shrubs  or  plants  of  any 
kind,  excepting  a  few  willow  bushes.  After  trav- 
elling about  sixty  miles,  they  came  to  where  the 
country  became  very  hilly  and  the  river  made  its 
way  between  rocky  banks,  and  down  numerous 
rapids.  The  Indians  in  this  vicinity  were  better 
clad  and  altogether  in  more  prosperous  condition 
than  those  above,  and,  as  Mr.  Hunt  thought, 
showed  their  consciousness  of  ease  by  something 
like  sauciness  of  manner.  Thus  prosperity  is  apt 
to  produce  arrogance  in  savage  as  well  as  in  civi- 
lized life.  In  both  conditions,  man  is  an  animal 
that  will  not  bear  pampering. 

From  these  people  Mr.  Hunt  for  the  first  time 
received  vague  but  deeply  interesting  intelligence 
of  that  part  of  the  enterprise  which  had  proceeded 
by  sea  to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia.  The  In- 
dians spoke  of  a  number  of  white  men  who  had 
built  a  large  house  at  the  mouth  of  the  great  river, 
and  surrounded  it  with  palisades.  None  of  them 
had  been  down  to  Astoria  themselves  ;  but  ru- 


ASTORIA. 


383 


mors  spread  widely  and  rapidly  from  mouth  to 
mouth  among  the  Indian  tribes,  and  are  carried 
to  the  heart  of  the  interior,  by  hunting  parties  and 
migratory  hordes. 

The  establishment  of  a  trading  emporium  at 
such  a  point,  also,  was  calculated  to  cause  a  sen- 
sation to  the  most  remote  parts  of  the  vast  wilder- 
ness beyond  the  mountains.  It,  in  a  manner, 
struck  the  pulse  of  the  great  vital  river,  and  vi- 
brated up  all  its  tributary  streams. 

It  is  surprising  to  notice  how  well  this  remote 
tribe  of  savages  had  learnt,  through  intermediate 
gossips,  the  private  feelings  of  the  colonists  at 
Astoria  ;  it  shows  that  Indians  are  not  the  in- 
curious and  indifferent  observers  that  they  have 
been  represented.  They  told  Mr.  Hunt  that  the 
white  people  at  the  large  house  had  been  looking 
anxiously  for  many  of  their  friends,  whom  they 
had  expected  to  descend  the  great  river  ;  and  had 
been  in  much  affliction,  fearing  that  they  were 
lost.  Now,  however,  the  arrival  of  him  and  his 
party  would  wipe  away  all  their  tears,  and  they 
would  dance  and  sing  for  joy. 

On  the  3ist  of  January,  Mr.  Hunt  arrived  at  the 
falls  of  the  Columbia,  and  encamped  at  the  vil- 
lage of  Wish-ram,  situated  at  the  head  of  that 
dangerous  pass  of  the  river  called  "  the  long  nar- 
rows." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

OF  the  village  of  Wish-ram,  the  aborigines'  fish- 
ing mart  of  the  Columbia,  we  have  given  some 
account  in  an  early  chapter  of  this  work.  The 
inhabitants  held  a  traffic  in  the  productions  of  the 
fisheries  of  the  falls,  and  their  village  was  the 
trading  resort  of  the  tribes  from  the  coast  and 
from  the  mountains.  Mr.  Hunt  found  the  inhab- 
itants shrewder  and  more  intelligent  than  any  In- 
dians he  had  met  with.  Trade  had  sharpened 
their  wits,  though  it  had  not  improved  their  hon- 
esty ;  for  they  were  a  community  of  arrant  rogues 
and  freebooters.  Their  habitations  comported 
with  their  circumstances,  and  were  superior  to 
any  the  travellers  had  yet  seen  west  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  In  general  the  dwellings  of  the  sav- 
ages on  the  Pacific  side  of  that  great  barrier,  were 
mere  tents  and  cabins  of  mats,  or  skins,  or  straw, 
the  country  being  destitute  of  timber.  In  Wish- 
ram,  on  the  contrary,  the  houses  were  built  of 
wood,  with  long  sloping  roots.  The  floor  was 
sunk  about  six  feet  below  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  with  a  low  door  at  the  gable  end,  ex- 
tremely narrow,  and  partly  sunk.  Through  this 
it  was  necessary  to  crawl,  and  then  to  descend  a 
short  ladder.  This  inconvenient  entrance  was 
probably  for  the  purpose  of  defence  ;  there  were 
loop-holes  also  under  the  eaves,  apparently  for  the 
discharge  of  arrows.  The  houses  were  large, 
generally  containing  two  or  three  families.  Im- 
mediately within  the  door  were  sleeping  places, 
ranged  along  the  walls,  like  berths  in  a  ship  ;  and 
furnished  with  pallets  of  matting.  These  ex- 
tended along  one-half  of  the  building  ;  the  re- 
maining half  was  appropriated  to  the  storing  of 
dried  fish. 

The  trading  operations  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Wish-ram  had  given  them  a  wider  scope  of  infor- 
mation, and  rendered  their  village  a  kind  of 
headquarters  of  intelligence.  Mr.  Hunt  was 
able,  therefore,  to  collect  more  distinct  tidings 
concerning  the  settlement  of  Astoria  and  its  af- 
fairs. One  of  the  inhabitants  had  been  at  the  tra- 
ding post  established  by  David  Stuart,  on  the 


Oakinagan,  and  had  picked  up  a  few  words  of 
English  there.  From  him,  Mr.  Hunt  gleaned 
various  particulars  about  that  establishment,  as 
well  as  about  the  general  concerns  of  the  enter- 
prise. Others  repeated  the  name  of  Mr.  M'Kay, 
the  partner  who  perished  in  the  massacre  on 
board  of  the  Tonquin,  and  gave  some  account  of 
that  melancholy  affair.  They  said,  Mr.  M' Kay- 
was  a  chief  among  the  white  men,  and  had  built 
a  great  house  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  but  had 
left  it  and  sailed  away  in  a  large  ship  to  the  north- 
ward, where  he  had  been  attacked  by  bad  Indians 
in  canoes.  Mr.  Hunt  was  startled  by  this  intelli- 
gence, and  made  further  inquiries.  They  inform- 
ed him  that  the  Indians  had  lashed  their  canoes  to 
the  ship,  and  fought  until  they  killed  him  and  all 
his  people.  This  is  another  instance  of  the  clear- 
ness with  which  intelligence  is  transmitted  from 
mouth  to  mouth  among  the  Indian  tribes.  These 
tidings,  though  but  partially  credited  by  Mr. 
Hunt,  filled  his  mind  with  anxious  forebodings. 
He  now  endeavored  to  procure  canoes  in  which  to 
descend  the  Columbia,  but  none  suitable  for  the 
purpose  were  to  be  obtained  above  the  narrows  ; 
he  continued  on,  therefore,  the  distance  of  twelve 
miles,  and  encamped  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
The  camp  was  soon  surrounded  by  loitering  sav- 
ages, who  went  prowling  about,  seeking  what 
they  might  pilfer.  Being  baffled  by  the  vigilance 
of  the  guard,  they  endeavored  to  compass  their 
ends  by  other  means.  Toward  evening,  a  num- 
ber of  warriors  entered  the  camp  in  ruffling  style  ; 
painted  and  dressed  out  as  if  for  battle,  and  armed 
with  lances,  bows  and  arrows,  and  scalping  knives. 
They  informed  Mr.  Hunt  that  a  party  of  thirty  or 
forty  braves  were  coming  up  from  a  village  below 
to  attack  the  camp  and  carry  off  the  horses,  but 
that  they  were  determined  to  stay  with  him,  and 
defend  him.  Mr.  Hunt  received  them  with  great 
coldness,  and,  when  they  had  finished  their  story, 
gave  them  a  pipe  to  smoke.  He  then  called  up 
all  hands,  stationed  sentinels  in  different  quarters, 
but  told  them  to  keep  as  vigilant  an  eye  within 
the  camp  as  without. 

The  warriors  were  evidently  baffled  by  these 
precautions,  and,  having  smoked  their  pipe,  and 
vapored  off  their  valor,  took  their  departure.  The 
farce,  however,  did  not  end  here.  After  a  little 
while  the  warriors  returned,  ushering  in  another 
savage,  still  more  heroically  arrayed.  This  they 
announced  as  the  chief  of  the  belligerent  village, 
but  as  a  great  pacificator.  His  people  had  been 
furiously  bent  upon  the  attack,  and  would  have 
doubtless  carried  it  into  effect,  but  this  gallant 
chief  had  stood  forth  as  the  friend  of  the  white 
men,  and  had  dispersed  the  throng  by  his  own 
authority  and  prowess.  Having  vaunted  this 
signal  piece  of  service,  there  was  a  significant 
pause  ;  all  evidently  expecting  some  adequate  re- 
ward. Mr.  Hunt  again  produced  the  pipe, smoked 
with  the  chieftain  and  his  worthy  compeers  ;  but 
made  no  further  demonstrations  of  gratitude. 
They  remained  about  the  camp  all  night,  but  at 
daylight  returned,  baffled  and*  crestfallen,  to  their 
homes,  with  nothing  but  smoke  for  their  pains. 

Mr.  Hunt  now  endeavored  to  procure  canoes,  of 
which  he  saw  several  about  the  neighborhood, 
extremely  well  made,  with  elevated  stems  and 
sterns,  some  of  them  capable  of  carrying  three 
thousand  pounds  weight.  He  found  it  extremely 
difficult,  however,  to  deal  with  these  slippery  peo- 
ple, who  seemed  much  more  inclined  to  pilfer. 
Notwithstanding  a  strict  guard  maintained  round 
the  camp,  various  implements  were  stolen,  and  sev- 
eral horses  carried  off.  Among  the  latter  we  have 


384 


ASTORIA. 


to  include  the  long-cherished  steed  of  Pierre  Do- 
rion.  From  some  wilful  caprice,  that  worthy 
pitched  his  tent  at  some  distance  from  the  main 
body,  and  tethered  his  invaluable  steed  beside  it, 
from  whence  it  was  abstracted  in  the  night,  to  the 
infinite  chagrin  and  mortification  of  the  hybrid 
interpreter. 

Having,  after  several  days'  negotiation,  pro- 
cured the  requisite  number  of  canoes,  Mr.  Hunt 
would  gladly  have  left  this  thievish  neighbor- 
hood, but  was  detained  until  the  5th  of  February 
by  violent  head  winds,  accompanied  by  snow 
and  rain.  Even  after  he  was  enabled  to  get 
under  way,  he  had  still  to  struggle  against 
contrary  winds  and  tempestuous  weather.  The 
current  of  the  river,  however,  was  in  his  favor  ; 
having  made  a  portage  at  the  grand  rapid,  the 
canoes  met  with  no  further  obstruction,  and,  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  I5th  of  February,  swept 
round  an  intervening  cape,  and  came  in  sight  of 
the  infant  settlement  of  Astoria.  After  eleven 
months  wandering  in  the  wilderness,  a  great  part 
of  the  time  over  trackless  wastes,  where  the  sight 
of  a  savage  wigwam  was  a  rarity,  we  may  im- 
agine the  delight  of  the  poor  weather-beaten  trav- 
ellers, at  beholding  the  embryo  establishment,  with 
its  magazines,  habitations,  and  picketed  bul- 
warks, seated  on  a  high  point  of  land,  dominating 
a  beautiful  little  bay,  in  which  was  a  trim-built 
shallop  riding  quietly  at  anchor.  A  shout  of  joy 
burst  from  each  canoe  at  the  long-wished  for 
sight.  They  urged  their  canoes  across  the  bay, 
and  pulled  with  eagerness  for  shore,  where  all 
hands  poured  down  from  the  settlement  to  receive 
and  welcome  them.  Among  the  first  to  greet 
them  on  their  landing,  were  some  of  their  old 
comrades  and  fellow-sufferers,  who,  under  the 
conduct  of  Reed,  M'Lellan,  and  M'Kenzie,  had 
parted  from  them  at  the  Caldron  Linn.  These 
had  reached  Astoria  nearly  a  month  previously, 
and,  judging  from  their  own  narrow  escape  from 
starvation,  had  given  up  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  follow- 
ers as  lost.  Their  greeting  was  the  more  warm 
and  cordial.  As  to  the  Canadian  voyageurs,  their 
mutual  felicitations,  as  usual,  were  loud  and  vocif- 
erous, and  it  was  almost  ludicrous  to  behold  these 
ancient  "  comrades"  and  "  confreres,"  hugging 
and  kissing  each  other  on  the  river  bank.  When 
the  first  greetings  were  over,  the  different  bands 
interchanged  accounts  of  their  several  wander- 
ings, after  separating  at  Snake  River  ;  we  shall 
briefly  notice  a  few  of  the  leading  particulars.  It 
will  be  recollected 'by  the  reader,  that  a  small  ex- 
ploring detachment  had  proceeded  down  the  river, 
under  the  conduct  of  Mr.  John  Reed,  a  clerk  of 
the  company  :  that  another  had  set  off  under 
M'Lellan,  and  a  third  in  a  different  direction,  un- 
der M'Kenzie.  After  wandering  for  several  days 
without  meeting  with  Indians,  or  obtaining  any 
supplies,  they  came  together  fortuitously  among 
the  Snake  River  mountains,  some  distance  below 
that  disastrous  pass  or  strait,  which  had  received 
the  appellation  of  the  Devil's  Scuttle  Hole. 

When  thus  united,  their  party  consisted  of 
M'Kenzie,  M'Lellan,  Reed,  and  eight  men, 
chiefly  Canadians.  Being  all  in  the  same  predic- 
ament, without  horses,  provisions,  or  information 
of  any  kind,  they  all  agreed  that  it  would  be  worse 
than  useless  to  return  to  Mr.  Hunt  and  encumber 
him  with  so  many  starving  men,  and  that  their 
only  course  was  to  extricate  themselves  as  soon 
as  possible  from  this  land  of  famine  and  misery, 
and  made  the  best  of  their  way  for  the  Columbia. 
They  accordingly  continued  to  follow  the  down- 
ward course  of  Snake  River  ;  clambering  rocks 


and  mountains,  and  defying  all  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  that  rugged  defile,  which  subse- 
quently, when  the  snows  had  ialren,  was  found 
impassable  by  Messrs.  Hunt  and  Crooks. 

Though  constantly  near  to  the  borders  of  the 
river,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  time  within  sight 
of  its  current,  one  of  their  greatest  sufferings  was 
thirst.  The  river  had  worn  its  way  in  a  deep  • 
channel  through  rocky  mountains,  destitute  of 
brooks  or  springs.  Its  banks  were  so  high  and 
precipitous,  that  there  was  rarely  any  place  where 
the  travellers  could  get  down  to  drink  its  waters. 
Frequently  they  suffered  for  miles  the  torments  of 
Tantalus  ;  water  continually  within  sight,  yet 
fevered  with  the  most  parching  thirst.  Here  and 
there  they  met  with  rain-water  collected  in  the 
hollows  of  the  rocks,  but  more  than  once  they 
were  reduced  to  the  utmost  extremity  ;  and  some 
of  the  men  had  recourse  to  the  last  expedient  to 
avoid  perishing. 

Their  sufferings  from  hunger  were  equally  se- 
vere. They  could  meet  with  no  game,  and  sub- 
sisted for  a  time  on  strips  of  beaver  skin,  broiled 
on  the  coals.  These  were  doled  out  in  scanty  al- 
lowances, barely  sufficient  to  keep  up  existence, 
and  at  length  failed  them  altogether.  Still  they 
crept  feebly  on,  scarce  dragging  one  limb  after 
another,  until  a  severe  snow-storm  brought  them 
to  a  pause.  To  struggle  against  it,  in  their  ex- 
hausted condition,  was  impossible  ;  so  cowering 
under  an  impending  rock  at  the  foot  of  a  steep 
mountain,  they  prepared  themselves  for  that 
wretched  fate  which  seemed  inevitable. 

At  this  critical  juncture,  when  fa'mine  stared 
them  in  the  face,  M'Lellan  casting  up  his  eyes, 
beheld  an  ahsahta,  or  bighorn,  sheltering  itself 
under  a  shelving  rock  on  the  side  of  the  hill  above 
them.  Being  in  a  more  active  plight  than  any  of 
his  comrades,  and  an  excellent  marksman,  he  set 
off  to  get  within  shot  of  the  animal.  His  com- 
panions watched  his  movements  with  breathless 
anxiety,  for  their  lives  depended  upon  his  success. 
He  made  a  cautious  circuit ;  scrambled  up  the 
hill  with  the  utmost  silence,  and  at  length  arrived, 
unperceived,  within  a  proper  distance.  Here  lev- 
elling his  rifle  he  took  so  sure  an  aim,  that  the 
bighorn  fell  dead  on  the  spot  ;  a  fortunate  circum- 
stance, for,  to  pursue  it,  if  merely  wounded, 
would  have  been  impossible  in  his  emaciated 
state.  The  declivity  of  the  hill  enabled  him  to 
roll  the  carcass  down  to  his  companions,  who 
were  too  feeble  to  climb  the  rocks.  They  fell  to 
work  to  cut  it  up  ;  yet  exerted  a  remarkable  self- 
denial  for  men  in  their  starving  condition,  for 
they  contented  themselves  for  the  present  with  a 
soup  made  from  the  bones,  reserving  the  flesh  for 
future  repasts.  This  providential  relief  gave 
them  strength  to  pursue  their  journey,  but  they 
were  frequently  reduced  to  almost  equal  straits, 
and  it  was  only  the  smallness  of  their  party,  re~ 
quiring  a  small  supply  of  provisions,  that  enabled 
them  to  get  through  this  desolate  region  with 
their  lives. 

At  length,  after  twenty-one  days  of  toil  and 
suffering,  they  got  through  these  mountains,  and 
arrived  at  a  tributary  stream  of  that  branch  of  the 
Columbia  called  Lewis  River,  of  which  Snake 
River  forms  the  southern  fork.  In  this  neighbor- 
hood they  met  with  wild  horses,  the  first  they 
had  seen  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  From 
hence  they  made  their  way  to  Lewis  River,  where 
they  fell  in  with  a  friendly  tribe  of  Indians,  who 
freely  administered  to  their  necessities.  On  this 
river  they  procured  two  canoes,  in  which  they 
dropped  down  the  stream  to  its  confluence  with 


ASTORIA. 


385 


the  Columbia,  and  then  down  that  river  to  Astoria, 
where  they  arrived  haggard  and  emaciated,  and 
perfectly  in  rags. 

Thus,  all  the  leading  persons  of  Mr.  Hunt's  ex- 
pedition were  once  more  gathered  together,  ex- 
cepting Mr.  Crooks,  of  whose  safety  they  enter- 
tained but  little  hope,  considering  the  feeble  con- 
dition in  which  they  had  been  compelled  to  leave 
him  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness. 

A  day  was  now  given  up  to  jubilee,  to  cele- 
brate the  arrival  of  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  companions, 
and  the  joyful  meeting  of  the  various  scattered 
bands  of  adventurers  at  Astoria.  The  colors  were 
hoisted  ;  the  guns,  great  and  small,  were  fired  ; 
there  was  a  feast  of  fish,  of  beaver,  and  venison, 
which  relished  well  with  men  who  had  so  long 
been  glad  to  revel  on  horse  flesh  and  dogs'  meat ; 
a  genial  allowance  of  grog  was  issued,  to  increase 
the  general  animation,  and  the  festivities  wound 
up,  as  usual,  with  a  grand  dance  at  night,  by  the 
Canadian  voyageurs.* 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

THE  winter  had  passed  away  tranquilly  at  As- 
toria. The  apprehensions  of  hostility  from  the 
natives  had  subsided  ;  indeed,  as  the  season  ad- 
vanced, the  Indians  for  the  most  part  had  disap- 
peared from  the  neighborhood,  and  abandoned 
the  sea-coast,  so  that,  for  want  of  their  aid,  the 
colonists  hacl  at  times  suffered  considerably  for 
want  of  provisions.  The  hunters  belcnging  to 
the  establishment  made  frequent  and  wide  excur- 
sions, but  with  very  moderate  success.  There 
were  some  deer  and  a  few  bears  to  be  found  in 
the  vicinity,  and  elk  in  great  numbers  ;  the  coun- 
try, however,  was  so  rough,  and  the  woods  so 
close  and  entangled,  that  it  was  almost  impossi- 
ble to  beat  up  the  game.  The  prevalent  rains  of 
winter,  also,  rendered  it  difficult  for  the  hunter 
to  keep  his  arms  in  order.  The  quantity  of  game, 
therefore,  brought  in  by  the  hunters  was  extreme- 
ly scanty,  and  it  was  frequently  necessary  to  put 
all  hands  on  very  moderate  allowance.  Toward 
spring,  however,  the  fishing  season  commenced 
— the  season  of  plenty  on  the  Columbia.  About 
the  beginning  of  February,  a  small  kind  of  fish, 
about  six  inches  long,  called  by  the  natives  the 
uthlecan,  and  resembling  the  smelt,  made  its  ap- 
pearance at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  It  is  said  to 
be  of  delicious  flavor,  and  so  fat  as  to  burn  like  a 
candle,  for  which  it  is  often  used  by  the  natives. 
It  enters  the  river  in  immense  shoals,  like  solid 
columns,  often  extending  to  the  depth  of  five  or 
more  feet,  and  is  scooped  up  by  the  natives  with 
small  nets  at  the  end  of  poles.  In  this  way  they 
will  soon  fill  a  canoe,  or  form  a  great  heap  upon 
the  river  banks.  These  fish  constitute  a  principal 
article  of  their  food  ;  the  women  drying  them  and 
stringing  them  on  cords.  As  the  uthlecan  is 
only  found  in  the  lower  part  of  the  river,  the  ar- 
rival of  it  soon  brought  back  the  natives  to  the 
coast  ;  who  again  resorted  to  the  factory  to  trade, 
and  from  that  time  furnished  plentiful  supplies  of 
fish. 

The  sturgeon  makes  its  appearance  in  the  river 
shortly  after  the  uthlecan,  and  is  taken  in  differ- 
ent ways,  by  the  natives  :  sometimes  they  spear 


*  The  distance  from  St.  Louis  to  Astoria,  by  the 
route  travelled  by  Hunt  and  M'Kenzie,  was  upward 
of  thirty-five  hundred  miles,  though  in  a  direct  line  it 
does  not  exceed  eighteen  hundred. 


it  ;  but  oftener  they  use  the  hook  and  line,  and 
the  net.  Occasionally,  they  sink  a  cord  in  the 
river  by  a  heavy  weight,  with  a  buoy  at  the  upper 
end,  to  keep  it  floating.  To  this  cord  several 
hooks  are  attached  by  short  lines,  a  few  feet  dis- 
tant from  each  other,  and  baited  with  small  fish. 
This  apparatus  is  often  set  toward  night,  and  by 
the  next  morning  several  sturgeon  will  be  found 
hooked  by  it  ;  for  though  a  large  and  strong  fish, 
it  makes  but  little  resistance  when  ensnared. 

The  salmon,  which  are  the  prime  fish  of  the 
Columbia,  and  as  important  to  the  piscatory 
tribes  as  are  the  buffaloes  to  the  hunters  of  the 
prairies,  do  not  enter  the  river  until  toward  the 
latter  part  of  May,  from  which  time  until  the  mid- 
dle of  August,  they  abound,  and  are  taken  in  vast 
quantities,  either  with  the  spear  or  seine,  and 
mostly  in  shallow  water.  An  inferior  species 
succeeds-,  and  continues  from  August  to  Decem- 
ber. It  is  remarkable  for  having  a  double  row  of 
teeth,  half  an  inch  long  and  extremely  sharp, 
from  whence  it  has  received  the  name  of  the  dog- 
toothed  salmon.  It  is  generally  killed  with  the 
spear  in  small  rivulets,  and  smoked  for  winter 
provision.  We  have  noticed  in  a  former  chapter 
the  mode  in  which  the  salmon  are  taken  and  cured 
at  the  falls  of  the  Columbia  ;  and  put  up  in  par- 
cels for  exportation.  From  these  different  fisher- 
ies of  the  river  tribes,  the  establishment  at  As- 
toria had  to  derive  much  of  its  precarious  sup- 
plies of  provisions. 

A  year's  residence  at  the  mouth  of  the  Colum- 
bia, and  various  expeditions  in  the  interior,  had 
now  given  the  Astorians  some  idea  of  the  coun- 
try. The  whole  coast  is  described  as  remarkably 
rugged  and  mountainous  ;  with  dense  forests  of 
hemlock,  spruce,  white  and  red  cedar,  cotton- 
wood,  white  oak,  white  and  swamp  ash,  willow, 
and  a  few  walnut.  There  is  likewise  an  under- 
growth of  aromatic  shrubs,  creepers,  and  clam- 
bering vines,  that  render  the  forests  almost  impen- 
etrable ;  together  with  berries  of  various  kinds, 
such  as  gooseberries,  strawberries,  raspberries, 
both  red  and  yellow,  very  large  and  finely  flavor- 
ed whortleberries,  cranberries,  serviceberries, 
blackberries,  currants,  sloes,  and  wild  and  choke 
cherries. 

Among  the  flowering  vines  is  one  deserving  of 
particular  notice.  Each  flower  is  composed  of 
six  leaves  or  petals,  about  three  inches  in  length, 
of  a  beautiful  crimson,  the  inside  spotted  with 
white.  Its  leaves,  of  a  fine  green,  are  oval,  and 
disposed  by  threes.  This  plant  climbs  upon  the 
trees  without  attaching  itself  to  them  ;  when  it 
has  reached  the  topmost  branches  it  descends 
perpendicularly,  and  as  it  continues  to  grow,  ex- 
tends from  tree  to  tree,  until  its  various  stalks  in- 
terlace the  grove  like  the  rigging  of  a  ship.  The 
stems  or  trunks  of  this  vine  are  tougher  and  more 
flexible  than  willow,  and  are  from  fifty  to  one 
hundred  fathoms  in  length.  From  the  fibres,  the 
Indians  manufacture  baskets  of  such  close  tex- 
ture as  to  hold  water. 

The  principal  quadrupeds  that  had  been  seen 
by  the  colonists  in  their  various  expeditions  were 
the  stag,  fallow  deer,  hart,  black  and  grizzly 
bear,  antelope,  ahsahta,  or  bighorn,  beaver,  sea 
and  river  otter,  muskrat,  fox,  wolf,  and  panther, 
the  latter  extremely  rare.  The  only  domestic  an- 
imals among  the  natives  were  horses  and  dogs. 

The  country  abounded  with  aquatic  and  land 
birds,  such  as  swans,  wild  geese,  brant,  ducks  of 
almost  every  description,  pelicans,  herons,  gulls, 
snipes,  curlews,  eagles,  vultures,  crows,  ravens, 
magpies,  woodpeckers,  pigeons,  partridges,  pheas- 


386 


ASTORIA. 


ants,    grouse,    and    a    great   variety  of    singing 
birds. 

There  were  few  reptiles  ;  the  only  dangerous 
kinds  were  the  rattlesnake,  and  one  striped  with 
black,  yellow,  and  white,  about  four  feet  long. 
Among  the  lizard  kind  was  one  about  nine  or  ten 
inches  in  length,  exclusive  of  the  tail,  and  three 
inches  in  circumference.  The  tail  was  round, 
and  of  the  same  length  as  the  body.  The  head 
was  triangular,  covered  with  small  square  scales. 
The  upper  part  of  the  body  was  likewise  covered 
with  small  scales,  green,  yellow,  black,  and  blue. 
Each  foot  had  five  toes,  furnished  with  strong 
nails,  probably  to  aid  it  in  burrowing,  as  it  usually 
lived  underground  on  the  plains. 

A  remarkable  fact,  characteristic  of  the  country 
west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  is  the  mildness 
and  equability  of  the  climate.  That  great  moun- 
tain barrier  seems  to  divide  the  continent  into 
different  climates,  even  in  the  same  degrees  of 
latitude.  The  rigorous  winters  and  sultry  sum- 
mers, and  all  the  capricious  inequalities  of  tem- 
perature prevalent  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the 
mountains,  are  but  little  felt  on  their  western  de- 
clivities. The  countries  between  them  and  the 
Pacific  are  blessed  with  milder  and  steadier  tem- 
perature, resembling  the  climates  of  parallel  lat- 
itudes in  Europe,  fn  the  plains  and  valleys  but 
little  snow  falls  throughout  the  winter,  and  usually 
melts  while  falling.  It  rarely  lies  on  the  ground 
more  than  two  days  at  a  time,  except  on  the  sum- 
mits of  the  mountains.  The  winters  are  rainy 
rather  than  cold.  The  rains  for  five  months, 
from  the  middle  of  October  to  the  middle  of 
March,  are  almost  incessant,  and  often  accom- 
panied by  tremendous  thunder  and  lightning. 
The  winds  prevalent  at  this  season  are  from  the 
south  and  southeast,  which  usually  bring  rain. 
Those  from  the  north  to  the  southwest  are  the 
harbingers  of  fair  weather  and  a  clear  sky.  The 
residue  of  the  year,  from  the  middle  of  March  to 
the  middle  of  October,  an  interval  of  seven 
months,  is  serene  and  delightful.  There  is  scarce- 
ly any  rain  throughout  this  time,  yet  the  face  of 
the  country  is  kept  fresh  and  verdant  by  nightly 
clews,  and  occasionally  by  humid  fogs  in  the 
mornings.  These  are  not  considered  prejudicial 
to  health,  since  both  the  natives  and  the  whites 
sleep  in  the  open  air  with  perfect  impunity.  While 
this  equable  and  bland  temperature  prevails 
throughout  the  lower  country,  the  peaks  and 
ridges  of  the  vast  mountains  by  which  it  is  domi- 
nated, are  covered  with  perpetual  snow.  This 
renders  them  discernible  at  a  great  distance, 
shining  at  times,  like  bright  summer  clouds,  at 
other  times  assuming  the  most  aerial  tints,  and 
always  forming  brilliant  and  striking  features  in 
the  vast  landscape.  The  mild  temperature  prev- 
alent throughout  the  country  is  attributed  by  some 
to  the  succession  of  winds  from  the  Pacific  Ocean, 
extending  from  latitude  twenty  degrees  to  at  least 
fifty  degrees  north.  These  temper  the  heat  of 
summer,  so  that  in  the  shade  no  one  is  incom- 
moded by  perspiration  ;  they  also  soften  the  rigors 
of  winter,  and  produce  such  a  moderation  in  the 
climate,  that  the  inhabitants  can  wear  the  same 
dress  throughout  the  year. 

The  soil  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  sea-coast 
is  of  a  brown  color,  inclining  to  red,  and  general- 
ly poor  ;  being  a  mixture  of  clay  and  gravel.  .  In 
the  interior,  and  especially  in  the  valleys  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  the  soil  is  generally  blackish  ; 
though  sometimes  yellow.  It  is  frequently  mixed 
with  marl,  and  with  marine  substances  in  a  state 
of  decomposition.  This  kind  of  soil  extends  to  a 


considerable  depth,  as  may  be  perceived  in  the 
deep  cuts  made  by  ravines,  and  by  the  beds  of 
rivers.  The  vegetation  in  these  valleys  is  much 
more  abundant  than  near  the  coast  ;  in  fact,  it  is 
in  these  fertile  intervals,  locked  up  between  rocky 
sierras,  or  scooped  out  from  barren  wastes,  that 
population  must  extend  itself,  as  it  were,  in  veins 
and  ramifications,  if  ever  the  regions  beyond  the 
mountains  should  become  civilized. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

A  BRIEF  mention  has  already  been  made  of  the 
tribes  or  hordes  existing  about  the  lower  part  of 
the  Columbia  at  the  time  of  the  settlement  ;  a  few 
more  particulars  concerning  them  may  be  accept- 
able. The  four  tribes  nearest  to  Astoria,  and 
with  whom  the  traders  had  most  intercourse, 
were,  as  has  heretofore  been  observed,  the  Chi- 
nooks,  the  Clatsops,  the  Wahkiacums,  and  the 
Cathlamets.  The  Chinooks  resided  chiefly  along 
the  banks  of  a  river  of  the  same  name,  running 
parallel  to  the  sea-coast,  through  a  low  country 
studded  with  stagnant  pools,  and  emptying  itself 
into  Baker's  Bay,  a  few  miles  from  Cape  Disap- 
pointment. This  was  the  tribe  over  which  Com- 
comly,  the  one-eyed  chieftain,  held  sway  ;  it 
boasted  two  hundred  and  fourteen  fighting  men. 
Their  chief  subsistence  was  on  fish,  with  an  oc- 
casional regale  of  the  flesh  of  elk  and  deer,  and 
of  wild-fowl  from  the  neighboring  ponds. 

The  Clatsops  resided  on  both  sides  of  Point 
Adams  ;  they  were  the  mere  relics  of  a  tribe 
which  had  been  nearly  swept  off  by  the  smallpox, 
and  did  not  number  more  than  one  hundred  and 
eighty  fighting  men. 

The  Wahkiacums,  or  Waak-i-cums,  inhabited 
the  north  side  of  the  Columbia,  and  numbered 
sixty-six  warriors.  They  and  the  Chinooks  were 
originally  the  same  ;  but  a  dispute  arising  about 
two  generations  previous  to  the  time  of  the  settle- 
ment between  the  ruling  chief  and  his  brother 
Wahkiacum,  the  latter  seceded,  and  with  his  ad- 
herents formed  the  present  horde  which  contin- 
ues to  go  by  his  name.  In  this  way  new  tribes 
or  clans  are  formed,  and  lurking  causes  of  hos- 
tility engendered. 

The  Cathlamets  lived  opposite  to  the  lower  vil- 
lage of  the  Wahkiacums,  and  numbered  ninety- 
four  warriors. 

These  four  tribes,  or  rather  clans,  have  every 
appearance  of  springing  from  the  same  origin, 
resembling  each  other  in  person,  dress,  language, 
and  manners.  They  are  rather  a  diminutive  race, 
generally  below  five  feet  five  inches,  with  crooked 
legs  and  thick  ankles  ;  a  deformity  caused,  by 
their  passing  so  much  of  their  time  sitting  or 
squatting  upon  the  calves  of  their  legs,  and  their 
heels,  in  the  bottom  of  their  canoes  ;  a  favorite 
position,  which  they  retain,  even  when  on  shore. 
The  women  increase  the  deformity  by  wearing 
tight  bandages  around  the  ankles,  which  prevent 
the  circulation  of  the  blood,  and  cause  a  swelling 
of  the  muscles  of  the  leg. 

Neither  sex  can  boast  of  personal  beauty.  Their 
faces  are  round,  with  small,  but  animated  eyes. 
Their  noses  are  broad  and  flat  at  top,  and  fleshy 
at  the  end,  with  large  nostrils.  They  have  wide 
mouths,  thick  lips,  and  short,  irregular  and  dirty 
teeth.  Indeed,  good  teeth  are  seldom  to  be  seen 
among  the  tribes  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
who  live  chiefly  on  fish. 

In  the  early  stages  of  their  intercourse  with  white 


ASTORIA. 


387 


men,  these  savages  were  but  scantily  clad.  In 
summer  time  the  men  went  entirely  naked  ;  in  the 
winter  and  in  bad  weather,  the  men  wore  a  small 
robe,  reaching-  to  the  middle  of  the  thigh,  made 
of  the  skins  of  animals,  or  of  the  wool  of  the 
mountain  sheep.  Occasionally,  they  wore  a  kind 
of  mantle  of  matting,  to  keep  off  the  rain  ;  but 
having  thus  protected  the  back  and  shoulders,  they 
left  the  rest  of  the  body  naked. 

The  women  wore  similar  robes,  though  shorter, 
not  reaching  below  the  waist  ;  beside  which,  they 
had  a  kind  of  petticoat,  or  fringe,  reaching  from 
the  waist  to  the  knee,  formed  of  the  fibres  of  ce- 
dar bark,  broken  into  strands,  or  a  tissue  of  silk 
grass  twisted  and  knotted  at  the  ends.  This  was 
the  usual  dress  of  the  women  in  summer  ;  should 
the  weather  be  inclement,  they  added  a  vest  of 
skins,  similar  to  the  robe. 

The  men  carefully  eradicated  every  vestige  of 
a  beard,  considering  it  a  great  deformity.  They 
looked  with  disgust  at  the  whiskers  and  well-fur- 
nished chins  of  the  white  men,  and  in  derision 
called  them  Long-beards.  Both  sexes,  on  the 
other  hand,  cherished  the  hair  of  the  head,  which 
with  them  is  generally  black  ancl  rather  course. 
They  allowed  it  to  grow  to  a  great  length,  and 
were  very  proud  and  careful  of  it,  sometimes 
wearing  it  plaited,  sometimes  wound  round  the 
head  in  fanciful  tresses.  No  greater  affront  could 
be  offered  them  than  to  cut  off  their  treasured 
locks. 

They  had  conical  hats  with  narrow  rims,  neatly 
woven  of  bear-grass  or  of  the  fibres  of  cedar  bark, 
interwoven  with  designs  of  various  shapes  and 
colors  ;  sometimes  merely  squares  and  triangles, 
at  other  times  rude  representations  of  canoes, 
with  men  fishing  and  harpooning.  These  hats 
•were  nearly  waterproof,  and  extremely  durable. 

The  favorite  ornaments  of  the  men  were  col- 
lars of  bears'  claws,  the  proud  trophies  of  hunt- 
ing exploits  ;  while  the  women  and  children  wore 
similar  decorations  of  elks'  tusks.  An  intercourse 
with  the  white  traders,  however,  soon  effected  a 
change  in  the  toilets  of  both  sexes.  They  became 
fond  of  arraying  themselves  in  any  article  of  civi- 
lized dress  which  they  could  procure,  and  often 
made  a  most  grotesque  appearance.  They  adapt- 
ed many  articles  of  finery,  also,  to  their  own  pre- 
vious tastes.  Both  sexes  were  fond  of  adorning 
themselves  with  bracelets  of  iron,  brass  or  cop- 
per. They  were  delighted,  also,  with  blue  and 
white  beads,  particularly  the  former,  and  wore 
broad  tight  bands  of  them  round  the  waist  and 
ankles  ;  large  rolls  of  them  round  the  neck,  and 
pendants  of  them  in  the  ears.  The  men,  especial- 
ly, who,  in  savage  life  carry  a  passion  for  person- 
al decoration  farther  than  the  females,  did  not 
think  their  gala  equipments  complete,  unless  they 
had  a  jewel  of  haiqua,  orwampun,  dangling  at  the 
nose.  Thus  arrayed,  their  hair  besmeared  with 
fish  oil,  and  their  bodies  bedaubed  with  red  clay, 
they  considered  themselves  irresistible. 

When  on  warlike  expeditions,  they  painted 
their  faces  and  bodies  in  the  most  hideous  and 
grotesque  manner,  according  to  the  universal 
practice  of  American  savages.  Their  arms  were 
bows  and  arrows,  spears,  and  war-clubs.  Some 
wore  a  corslet  formed  of  pieces  of  hard  wood, 
laced  together  with  bear-grass,  so  as  to  form  a 
light  coat  of  mail,  pliant  to  the  body  ;  and  a  kind 
of  casque  of  cedar  bark,  leather,  and  bear  grass, 
sufficient  to  protect  the  head  from  an  arrow  or 
war  club.  A  more  complete  article  of  defensive 
armor  was  a  buff  jerkin  or  shirt  of  great  thick- 
ness, made  of  doublings  of  elk  skin,  and  reaching 


to  the  feet,  holes  being  left  for  the  head  and  arms. 
This  was  perfectly  arrow  proof  ;  add  to  which,  it 
was  often  endowed  with  charmed  virtues,  by  the 
spells  and  mystic  ceremonials  of  the  medicine 
man,  or  conjurer. 

Of  the  peculiar  custom,  prevalent  among  these 
people  of  flattening  the  head,  we  have  already 
spoken.  It' is  one  of  those  instances  of  human 
caprice,  like  the  crippling  of  the  feet  of  females 
in  China,  which  are  quite  incomprehensible. 
This  custom  prevails  principally  among  the  tribes 
on  the  sea-coast,  and  about  the  lower  parts  of  the 
rivers.  How  far  it  extends  along  the  coast  we 
are  not  able  to  ascertain.  Some  of  the  tribes,  both 
north  and  south  of  the  Columbia,  practise  it  ;  but 
they  all  speak  the  Chinook  language,  and  prob- 
ably originated  from  the  same  stock.  As  far  as 
we  can  learn,  the  remoter  tribes,  which  speak  an 
entirely  different  language,  do  not  flatten  the 
head.  This  absurd  custom  declines,  also,  in  re- 
ceding from  the  shores  of  the  Pacific  ;  few  traces 
of  it  are  to  be  found  among  the  tribes  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  after  crossing  the  moun- 
tains it  disappears  altogether.  Those  Indians, 
therefore,  about  the  head  waters  of  the  Columbia, 
and  in  the  solitary  mountain  regions,  who  are 
often  called  Flatheads,  must  not  be  supposed  to 
be  characterized  by  this  deformity.  It  is  an  appel- 
lation often  given  by  the  hunters  east  of  the  moun- 
tain chain,  to  all  the  western  Indians,  excepting 
the  Snakes. 

The  religious  belief  of  these  people  was  ex- 
tremely limited  and  confined  ;  or  rather,  in  all 
probability,  their  explanations  were  but  little  un- 
derstood by  their  visitors.  They  had  an  idea  of 
a  benevolent  and  omnipotent  spirit,  the  creator 
of  all  things.  They  represent  him  as  assuming 
various  shapes  at  pleasure,  but  generally  that  of 
an  immense  bird.  He  usually  inhabits  the  sun, 
but  occasionally  wings  his  way  through  the  aerial 
regions,  and  sees  all  that  is  doing  upon  earth. 
Should  anything  displease  him  he  vents  his  wrath 
in  terrific  storms  and  tempests,  the  lightning  be- 
ing the  flashes  of  his  eye,  and  the  thunder  the 
clapping  of  his  wings.  To  propitiate  his  favor 
they  offer  him  annual  sacrifices  of  salmon  and 
venison,  the  first-fruits  of  their  fishing  and  hunt- 
ing. 

Beside  this  aerial  spirit  they  believe  in  an  in- 
ferior one,  who  inhabits  the  fire,  and  of  whom 
they  are  in  perpetual  dread,  as,  though  he  pos- 
sesses equally  the  power  of  good  and  evil,  the 
evil  is  apt  to  predominate.  They  endeavor, 
therefore,  to  keep  him  in  good  humor  by  frequent 
offerings.  He  is  supposed  also  to  have  great  in- 
fluence with  the  winged  spirtt,  their  sovereign 
protector  and  benefactor.  They  implore  him, 
therefore,  to  act  as  their  interpreter,  and  procure 
them  all  desirable  things,  such  as  success  in  fish- 
ing and  hunting,  abundance  of  game,  fleet  horses, 
obedient  wives,  and  male  children. 

These  Indians  have  likewise  their  priests,  or 
conjurers,  or  medicine  men,  who  pretend  to  be  in 
the  confidence  of  the  deities,  and  the  expounders 
and  the  enforcers  of  their  will.  Each  of  these 
medicine  men  has  his  idols  carved  in  wood, 
representing  the  spirits  of  the  air  and  of  the  fire, 
under  some  rude  and  grotesque  form  of  a  horse, 
a  bear,  a  beaver,  or  other  quadruped,  or  that  of 
bird  or  fish.  These  idols  are  hung  round  with 
amulets  and  votive  offerings,  such  as  beavers' 
teeth,  and  bears'  and  eagles'  claws. 

When  any  chief  personage  is  on  his  death-bed, 
or  dangerously  ill,  the  medicine  men  are  sent  for. 
Each  brings  with  him  his  idols,  with  which  he 


388 


ASTORIA. 


retires  into  a  canoe  to  hold  a  consultation.  As 
doctors  are  prone  to  disagree,  so  these  medicine 
men  have  now  and  then  a  violent  altercation  as 
to  the  malady  of  the  patient,  or  the  treatment  of 
it.  To  settle  this  they  beat  their  idols  soundly 
against  each  other  ;  whichever  first  loses  a  tooth 
or  a  claw  is  considered  as  confuted,  and  his  vo- 
tary retires  from  the  field. 

Polygamy  is  not  only  allowed,  but  considered 
honorable,  and  the  greater  number  of  wives  a 
man  can  maintain,  the  more  important  is  he  in 
the  eyes  of  the  tribe.  The  first  wife,  however, 
takes  rank  of  all  the  others,  and  is  considered 
mistress  of  the  house.  Still  the  domestic  estab- 
lishment is  liable  to  jealousies  and  cabals,  and 
the  lord  and  master  has  much  difficulty  in  main- 
taining harmony  in  his  jangling  household. 

In  the  manuscript  from  which  we  draw  many 
of  these  particulars,  it  is  stated  that  he  who  ex- 
ceeds his  neighbors  in  the  number  of  his  wives, 
male  children  and  slaves,  is  elected  chief  of  the 
village  ;  a  title  to  office  which  we  do  not  recollect 
ever  before  to  have  met  with. 

Feuds  are  frequent  among  these  tribes,  but  are 
not  very  deadly.  They  have  occasionally  pitched 
battles,  fought  on  appointed  days,  and  at  speci- 
fied places,  which  are  generally  the  banks  of  a 
rivulet.  .The  adverse  parties  post  themselves  on 
the  opposite  sides  of  the  stream,  and  at  such  dis- 
tances that  the  battles  often  last  a  long  while  be- 
fore any  blood  is  shed.  The  number  of  killed 
and  wounded  seldom  exceed  half  a  dozen.  Should 
the  damage  be  equal  on  each  side,  the  war  is  con- 
sidered as  honorably  concluded  ;  should  one 
party  lose  more  than  the  other,  it  is  entitled  to  a 
compensation  in  slaves  or  other  property,  other- 
wise hostilities  are  liable  to  be  renewed  at  a  fu- 
ture day.  They  are  much  given  also  to  predatory 
inroads  into  the  territories  of  their  enemies,  and 
sometimes  of  their  friendly  neighbors.  Should 
they  fall  upon  a  band  of  inferior  force,  or  upon  a 
village,  weakly  defended,  they  act  with  the  feroc- 
ity of  true  poltroons,  slaying  all  the  men,  and 
carrying  off  the  women  and  children  as  slaves. 
As  to  the  property,  it  is  packed  upon  horses  which 
they  bring  with  them  for  the  purpose.  They  are 
mean  and  paltry  as  warriors,  and  altogether  in- 
ferior in  heroic  qualities  to  the  savages  of  the 
buffalo  plains  on  the  east  side  of  the  mountains. 

A  great  portion  of  their  time  is  passed  in  rev- 
elry, music,  dancing,  and  gambling.  Their  mu- 
sic scarcely  deserves  the  name  ;  the  instruments 
being  of  the  rudest  kind.  Their  singing  is  harsh 
and  discordant ;  the  songs  are  chiefly  extempore, 
relating  to  passing  circumstances,  the  persons 
present,  or  any  trijing  object  that  strikes  the  at- 
tention of  the  singer.  They  have  several  kinds  of 
dances,  some  of  them  lively  and  pleasing.  The 
women  are  rarely  permitted  to  dance  with  the 
men,  but  form  groups  apart,  dancing  to  the  same 
instrument  and  song. 

They  have  a  great  passion  for  play,  and  a  va- 
riety of  games.  To  such  a  pitch  of  excitement 
are  they  sometimes  roused,  tht  they  gamble  away 
everything  they  possess,  even  to  their  wives  and 
children.  They  are  notorious  thieves,  also,  and 
proud  of  their  dexterity.  He  who  is  frequently 
successful,  gains  much  applause  and  popularity  ; 
but  the  clumsy  thief,  who  is  detected  in  some 
bungling  attempt,  is  scoffed  at  and  despised,  and 
sometimes  severely  punished. 

Such  are  a  few  leading  characteristics  of  the  na- 
tives in  the  neighborhood  of  Astoria.  They  ap- 
pear to  us  interior  in  many  respects  to  the  tribes 
east  of  the  mountains,  the  bold  rovers  of  the 


prairies  ;  and  to  partake  much  of  the  Esquimaux 
character  ;  elevated  in  some  degree  by  a  more 
genial  climate,  and  more  varied  style  of  living. 

The  habits  of  traffic  engendered  at  the  cata- 
racts of  the  Columbia,  have  had  their  influence 
along  the  coast.  The  Chinooks  and  other  In- 
dians at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  soon  proved  them- 
selves keen  traders,  and  in  their  early  dealings 
with  the  Astorians,  never  hesitated  to  ask  three 
times  what  they  considered  the  real  value  of  an 
article.  They  were  inquisitive,  also,  in  the  ex- 
treme, and  impertinently  intrusive  ;  and  were 
prone  to  indulge  in  scoffing  and  ridicule,  at  the 
expense  of  the  strangers. 

In  one  thing,  however,  they  showed  superior 
judgment  and  self-command  to  most  of  their 
race  ;  this  was,  in  their  abstinence  from  ardent 
spirits,  and  the  abhorrence  and  disgust  with 
which  they  regarded  a  drunkard.  On  one  occa- 
sion, a  son  of  Comcomly  had  been  induced  to  drink 
freely  at  the  factory,  and  went  home  in  a  state  of 
intoxication,  playing  all  kinds  of  mad  pranks, 
until  he  sank  into  a  stupor,  in  which  he  remained 
for  two  days.  The  old  chieftain  repaired  to  his 
friend  M'Dougal,  with  indignation  flaming  in  his 
countenance,  and  bitterly  reproached  him  for 
having  permitted  his  son  to  degrade  himself  into 
a  beast,  and  to  render  himself  an  object  of  scorn 
and  laughter  to  his  slave. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

As  the  spring  opened,  the  little  settlement  of 
Astoria  was  in  agitation,  and  prepared  to  send 
forth  various  expeditions.  Several  important 
things  were  to  be  done.  It  was  necessary  to  send 
a  supply  of  goods  to  the  trading  post  of  Mr.  Da- 
vid Stuart,  established  in  the  preceding  autumn 
on  the  Oakinagan.  The  cache,  or  secret  deposit, 
made  by  Mr.  Hunt  at  the  Caldron  Linn,  was  like- 
wise to  be  visited,  and  the  merchandise  and  other 
effects  left  there,  to  be  brought  to  Astoria.  A 
third  object  of  moment  was  to  send  dispatches 
overland  to  Mr.  Astor  at  New  York,  informing 
him  of  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  settlement,  and 
the  fortunes  of  the  several  expeditions. 

The  task  of  carrying  supplies  to  Oakinagan  was 
assigned  to  Mr.  Robert  Stuart,  a  spirited  and  en- 
terprising young  man,  nephew  to  the  one  who 
had  established  the  post.  The  cache  was  to  be 
sought  out  by  two  of  the  clerks,  named  Russell 
Farnham  and  Donald  M'Gilles,  conducted  by  a 
guide,  and  accompanied  by  eight  men,  to  assist 
in  bringing  home  the  goods. 

As  to  the  dispatches,  they  were  confided  to  Mr. 
John  Reed,  the  clerk,  the  same  who  had  conduct- 
ed one  of  the  exploring  detachments  of  Snake 
River.  He  was  now  to  trace  back  his  way  across 
the  mountains  by  the  same  route  by  which  he  had 
come,  with  no  other  companions  or  escort  than 
Ben  Jones,  the  Kentucky  hunter,  and  two  Cana- 
dians. As  it  was  still  hoped  that  Mr.  Crooks 
might  be  in  existence,  and  that  Mr.  Reed  and  his 
party  might  meet  with  him  in  the  course  of  their 
route,  they  were  charged  with  a  small  supply  of 
goods  and  provisions,  to  aid  that  gentleman  on 
his  way  to  Astoria. 

When  the  expedition  of  Reed  was  made  known, 
Mr.  M'Lellan  announced  his  determination  to  ac- 
company it.  He  had  long  been  dissatisfied  with 
the  smallness  ol  his  interest  in  the  copartnership, 
and  had  requested  an  additional  number  of 
shares  ;  his  request  not  being  complied  with,  he 


ASTORIA. 


389 


resolved  to  abandon  the  company.  M'Lellan 
was  a  man  of  singularly  self-willed  and  decided 
character,  with  whom  persuasion  was  useless  ; 
he  was  permitted,  therefore,  to  take  his  own 
course  without  opposition. 

As  to  Reed,  he  set  about  preparing  for  his  haz- 
ardous journey  with  the  zeal  of  a  true  Irishman. 
He  had  a  tin  case  made,  in  which  the  letters  and 
papers  addressed  to  Mr.  Astor  were  carefully 
soldered  up.  This  case  he  intended  to  strap 
upon  his  shoulders,  so  as  to  bear  it  about  with 
him,  sleeping  and  waking,  in  all  changes  and 
chances,  by  land  or  by  water,  and  never  to  part 
with  it  but  with  his  life  ! 

As  the  route  of  these  several  parties  would  be 
the  same  for  nearly  four  hundred  miles  up  the  Co- 
lumbia, and  within  that  distance  would  lie 
through  the  piratical  pass  of  the  rapids,  and 
among. the  freebooting  tribes  of  the  river,  it  was 
thought  advisable  to  start  about  the  same  time, 
and  to  keep  together.  Accordingly,  on  the  22d  of 
March  they  all  set  off,  to  the  number  of  seventeen 
men,  in  two  canoes — and  here  we  cannot  but 
pause  to  notice  the  hardihood  of  these  several  ex- 
peditions, so  insignificant  in  point  of  force,  and 
severally  destined  to  traverse  immense  wilder- 
nesses, where  larger  parties  had  experienced  so 
much  danger  and  distress.  When  recruits  were 
sought  in  the  preceding  year  among  experienced 
hunters  and  voyageurs  at  Montreal  and  St.  Louis, 
it  was  considered  dangerous  to  attempt  to  cross 
the  Rocky  Mountains  with  less  than  sixty  men  ; 
and  yet  here  we  find  Reed  ready  to  push  his  way 
across  those  barriers  with  merely  three  compan- 
ions. Such  is  the  fearlessness,  the  insensibility 
to  clanger,  which  men  acquire  by  the  habitude  of 
constant  risk.  The  mind,  like  the  body,  becomes 
callous  by  exposure. 

The  little  associated  band  proceeded  up  the 
river,  under  the  command  of  Mr.  Robert  Stuart, 
and  arrived  early  in  the  month  of  April  at  the 
Long  Narrows,  that  notorious  plundering  place. 
Here  it  was  necessary  to  unload  the  canoes,  and 
to  transport  both  them  and  their  cargoes  to  the 
head  of  the  Narrows  by  land.  Their  party  was 
too  tew  in  number  for  the  purpose.  They  were 
obliged,  therefore,  to  seek  the  assistance  of  the 
Cathlasco  Indians,  who  undertook  to  carry  the 
goods  on  their  horses.  Forward  then  they  set, 
the  Indians  with  their  horses  well  freighted,  and 
the  first  load  convoyed  by  Reed  and  five  men, 
well  armed  ;  the  gallant  Irishman  striding  along 
at  the  head,  with  his  tin  case  ol  dispatches  glit- 
tering on  his  back.  In  passing,  however,  through 
a  rocky  and  intricate  defile,  some  of  the  freeboot- 
ing vagrants  turned  their  horses  up  a  narrow 
path  and  galloped  off,  carrying  with  them  two 
bales  of  goods  and  a  number  of  small  articles. 
To  follow  them  was  useless  ;  indeed,  it  was  with 
much  ado  that  the  convoy  got  into  port  with  the 
residue  of  the  cargoes  ;  for  some  of  the  guards 
were  pillaged  of  their  knives  and  pocket-handker- 
chiefs, and  the  lustrous  tin  case  of  Mr.  John  Reed 
was  in  imminent  jeopardy. 

Mr.  Stuart  heard  of  these  depredations,  and 
hastened  forward  to  the  relief  of  the  convoy,  but 
could  not  reach  them  before  dusk,  by  which  time 
they  had  arrived  at  the  village  of  Wish-ram,  al- 
ready noted  for  its  great  fishery,  and  the  knavish 
propensities  of  its  inhabitants.  Here  they  found 
themselves  benighted  in  a  strange  place,  and  sur- 
rounded by  savages  bent  on  pilfering,  if  not  upon 
open  robbery.  Not  knowing  what  active  course 
to  take,  they  remained  under  arms  all  night,  with- 
out closing  an  eye,  and  at  the  very  first  peep  of 


dawn,  when  objects  were  yet  scarce  visible,  every- 
thing was  hastily  embarked,  and,  without  seeking 
to  recover  the  stolen  effects,  they  pushed  off  from 
shore;  "glad  to  bid  adieu,"  as  they  said,  "to 
this  abominable  nest  of  miscreants." 

The  worthies  of  Wish-ram,  however,  were  not 
disposed  to  part  so  easily  with  their  visitors. 
Their  cupidity  had  been  quickened  by  the  plunder 
which  they  had  already  taken,  and  their  confi- 
dence increased  by  the  impunity  with  which  their 
outrage  had  passed.  They  resolved,  therefore, 
to  take  further  toll  of  the  travellers,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, to  capture  the  tin  case  of  dispatches  ;  which 
shining  conspicuously  from  afar,  and  being 
guarded  by  John  Reed  with  such  especial  care, 
must,  as  they  supposed,  be  "  a  great  medicine." 

'Accordingly,  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  comrades  had 
not  proceeded  far  in  the  canoes,  when  they  be- 
held the  whole  rabble  of  Wish-ram  stringing  in 
groups  along  the  bank,  whooping  and  yelling, 
and  gibbering  in  their  wild  jargon,  and  when 
they  landed  below  the  falls  they  were  surrounded 
by  upward  of  four  hundred  of  these  river  ruffians, 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  war  clubs,  and 
other  savage  weapons.  These  now  pressed  for- 
ward, with  offers  to  carry  the  canoes  and  effects 
up  the  portage.  Mr.  Stuart  declined  forwarding 
the  goods,  alleging  the  lateness  of  the  hour  ;  but, 
to  keep  them  in  good  humor,  informed  them,  that, 
if  they  conducted  themselves  well,  their  offered 
services  might  probably  be  accepted  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  in  the  meanwhile  he  suggested  that  they 
might  carry  up  the  canoes.  They  accordingly 
set  off  with  the  two  canoes  on  their  shoulders,  ac- 
companied by  a  guard  of  eight  men  well  armed. 

When  arrived  at  the  head  of  the  falls,  the  mis- 
chievous spirit  of  the  savages  broke  out,  and  they 
were  on  the  point  of  destroying  the  canoes,  doubt- 
less with  a  view  to  impede  the  white  men  from 
carrying  forward  their  goods,  and  laying  them 
open  to  further  pilfering.  They  were  with  some 
difficulty  prevented  from  committing  this  outrage 
by  the  interference  of  an  old  man,  who  appeared 
to  have  authority  among  them  ;  and,  in  conse- 
quence of  his  harangue,  the  whole  of  the  hostile 
band,  with  the  exception  of  about  fifty,  crossed  to 
the  north  side  of  the  river,  where  they  lay  in  wait, 
ready  for  further  mischief. 

In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Stuart,  who  had  remain- 
ed at  the  foot  of  the  falls  with  the  goods,  and  who 
knew  that  the  proffered  assistance  of  the  savages 
was  only  for  the  purpose  of  having  an  opportunity 
to  plunder,  determined,  if  possible,  to  steal  a  march 
upon  them,  and  defeat  their  machinations.  In 
the  dead  of  the  night,  therefore,  about  one  o'clock, 
the  moon  shining  brightly,  he  roused  his  party, 
and  proposed  that  they  should  endeavor  to  trans- 
port the  goods  themselves,  above  the  falls,  before 
the  sleeping  savages  could  be  aware  of  their  op- 
erations. All  hands  sprang  to  the  work  with 
zeal,  and  hurried  it  on  in  the  hope  of  getting  all 
over  before  daylight.  Mr.  Stuart  went  forward 
with  the  first  loads,  and  took  his  station  at  the 
head  of  the  portage,  while  Mr.  Reed  and  Mr. 
M'Lellan  remained  at  the  foot  to  forward  the  re- 
mainder. 

The  day  dawned  before  the  transportation  was 
completed.  Some  of  the  fifty  Indians  who  had  re- 
mained on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  perceived 
what  was  going  on,  and,  feeling  themselves  too 
weak  for  an  attack,  gave  the  alarm  to  those  on 
the  opposite  side,  upward  of  a  hundred  of  whom 
embarked  in  several  large  canoes.  Two  loads  of 
goods  yet  remained  to  be  brought  up.  Mr.  Stuart 
dispatched  some  of  the  people  for  one  ot  the  loads, 


390 


ASTORIA. 


with  a  request  to  Mr.  Reed  to  retain  with  him  as 
many  men  as  he  thought  necessary  to  guard  the 
remaining  load,  as  he  suspected  hostile  intentions 
on  the  part  of  the  Indians.  Mr.  Reed,  however, 
refused  to  retain  any  of  them,  saying  that  M' Lei- 
Ian  and  himself  were  sufficient  to  protect  the 
small  quantity  that  remained.  The  men  accord- 
ingly departed  with  the  load,  while  Reed  and 
M'Lellan  continued  to  mount  guard  over  the  res- 
idue. By  this  time,  a  number  of  the  canoes  had 
arrived  from  the  opposite  side.  As  they  approach- 
ed the  shore,  the  unlucky  tin  box  of  John  Reed, 
shining  afar  like  the  brilliant  helmet  of  Euryalus, 
caught  their  eyes.  No  sooner  did  the  canoes 
touch  the  shore,  than  they  leaped  forward  on  the 
rocks,  set  up  a  war-whoop,  and  sprang  forward 
to  secure  the  glittering  prize.  Mr.  M'Lellan,  who 
was  at  the  river  bank,  advanced  to  guard  the 
goods,  when  one  of  the  savages  attempted  to 
hoodwink  him  with  his  buffalo  robe  with  one 
hand,  and  to  stab  him  with  the  other.  M'Lellan 
sprang  back  just  far  enough  to  avoid  the  blow, 
and  raising  his  rifle,  shot  the  ruffian  through  the 
heart. 

In  the  meantime,  Reed,  who  with  the  want  of 
forethought  of  an  Irishman,  had  neglected  to  re- 
move the  leathern  cover  from  the  lock  of  his  rifle, 
was  fumbling  at  the  fastenings,  when  he  received 
a  blow  on  the  head  with  a  war-club  that  laid  him 
senseless  on  the  ground.  In  a  twinkling  he  was 
stripped  of  his  rifle  and  pistols,  and  the  tin  box,  the 
cause  of  all  this  onslaught,  was  borne  off  in  tri- 
umph. 

At  this  critical  juncture,  Mr.  Stuart,  who  had 
heard  the  war-whoop,  hastened  to  the  scene  of 
action  with  Ben  Jones,  and  seven  others  of  the 
men.  When  he  arrived,  Reed  was  weltering  in 
his  blood,  and  an  Indian  standing  over  him  and 
about  to  dispatch  him  with  a  tomahawk.  Stuart 
gave  the  word,  when  Ben  Jones  levelled  his  rifle, 
and  shot  the  miscreant  on  the  spot.  The  men 
then  gave  a  cheer  and  charged  upon  the  main 
body  of  the  savages,  who  took  to  instant  flight. 
Reed  was  now  raised  from  the  ground,  and  borne 
senseless  and  bleeding  to  the  upper  end  of  the 
portage.  Preparations  were  made  to  launch 
the  canoes  and  embark  all  in  haste,  when  it  was 
found  that  they  were  too  leaky  to  be  put  in  the 
water,  and  that  the  oars  had  been  left  at  the  foot 
of  the  falls.  A  scene  of  confusion  now  ensued. 
The  Indians  were  whooping  and  yelling,  and 
running  about  like  fiends.  A  panic  seized  upon 
the  men,  at  being  thus  suddenly  checked,  the 
hearts  of  some  of  the  Canadians  died  within  them, 
and  two  young  men  actually  fainted  away.  The 
moment  they  recovered  their  senses  Mr.  Stuart 
ordered  that  they  should  be  deprived  of  their 
arms,  their  under-garments  taken  off,  and  that  a 
piece  of  cloth  should  be  tied  round  their  waists, 
in  imitation  of  a  squaw  ;  an  Indian  punishment 
for  cowardice.  Thus  equipped,  they  were  stowed 
away  among  the  goods  in  one  of  the  canoes.  This 
ludicrous  affair  excited  the  mirth  of  the  bolder 
spirits,  even  in  the  midst  of  their  perils,  and  roused 
the  pride  of  the  wavering.  The  Indians  having 
crossed  back  again  to  the  north  side,  order  was 
restored,  some  of  the  hands  were  sent  back  for 
the  oars,  others  set  to  work  to  calk  and  launch  the 
canoes,  and  in  a  little  while  all  were  embarked 
and  were  continuing  their  voyage  along  the  south- 
ern shore. 

No  sooner  had  they  departed,  than  the  Indians 
returned  to  the  scene  of  action,  bore  off  their  two 
comrades,  who  had  been  shot,  one  of  whom  was 
Still  living,  and  returned  to  their  village.  Here 


they  killed  two  horses  ;  and  drank  the  hot  blood 
to  give  fierceness  to  their  courage.  They  painted 
and  arrayed  themselves  hideously  for  battle  ;  per- 
formed the  dead  dance  round  the  slain,  and  raised 
the  war  song  of  vengeance.  Then  mounting  their 
horses,  to  the  number  of  four  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  and  brandishing  their  weapons,  they  set  off 
along  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  to  get  ahead 
of  the  canoes,  lie  in  wait  for  them,  and  take  a  ter- 
rible revenge  on  the  white  men. 

They  succeeded  in  getting  some  distance  above 
the  canoes  without  being  discovered,  and  were 
crossing  the  river  to  post  themselves  on  the  side 
along  which  the  white  men  were  coasting,  when 
they  were  fortunately  descried.  Mr.  Stuart  and 
his  companions  were  immediately  on  the  alert. 
As  they  drew  near  to  the  place  where  the  savages 
had  crossed,  they  observed  them  posted  among 
steep  and  overhanging  rocks,  close  along1  which 
the  canoes  would  have  to  pass.  Finding  that  the 
enemy  had  the  advantage  of  the  ground,  the  whites 
stopped  short  when  within  five  hundred  yards  of 
them,  and  discharged  and  reloaded  their  pieces. 
They  then  made  a  fire  and  dressed  the  wounds 
of  Mr.  Reed,  who  had  received  five  severe  gashes 
in  the  head.  This  being  done,  they  lashed  the 
canoes  together,  fastened  them  to  ."  rock  at  a 
small  distance  from  the  shore,  and  there  awaited 
the  menaced  attack. 

They  had  not  been  long  posted  in  this  manner, 
when  they  saw  a  canoe  approaching.  It  contain- 
ed the  war-chief  of  the  tribe  and  three  of  his  prin- 
cipal warriors.  He  drew  near  and  made  a  long 
harangue,  in  which  he  inlormed  them  that  they 
had  killed  one  and  wounded  another  of  his  na- 
tion ;  that  the  relations  of  the  slain  cried  out  for 
vengeance,  and  he  had  been  compelled  to  lead 
them  to  fight.  Still  he  wished  to  spare  unnecessary 
bloodshed,  he  proposed,  therefore,  that  Mr.  Reed, 
who,  he  observed,  was  little  better  than  a  dead 
man,  might  be  given  up  to  be  sacrificed  to  the 
manes  of  the  deceased  warrior.  This  would  ap- 
pease the  fury  of  his  friends;  the  hatchet  would  then 
be  buried,  and  all  thenceforward  would  be  friends. 
The  answer  was  a  stern  refusal  and  a  defiance, 
and  the  war-chief  saw  that  the  canoes  were  well 
prepared  for  a  vigorous  defence.  He  withdrew, 
therefore,  and  returning  to  his  warriors  among 
the  rocks  held  long  deliberations.  Blood  for  blood 
is  a  principle  in  Indian  equity  and  Indian  honor  ; 
but  though  the  inhabitants  of  Wish-ram  were  men 
of  war,  they  were  likewise  men  of  traffic,  and  it 
was  suggested  that  honor  for  once  might  give  way 
to  profit.  A  negotiation  was  accordingly  opened 
with  the  white  men,  and  after  some  diplomacy  the 
matter  was  compromised  for  a  blanket  to  cover  the 
dead,  and  some  tobacco  to  be  smoked  by  the  liv- 
ing. This  being  granted,  the  heroes  of  Wish- 
ram  crossed  the  river  once  more,  returned  to  their 
village  to  feast  upon  the  horses  whose  blood  they 
had  so  vain-gloriously  drunk,  and  the  travellers 
pursued  their  voyage  w'ithout  further  molestation. 

The  tin  case,  however,  containing  the  impor- 
tant dispatches  for  New  York,  was  irretrievably 
lost  ;  the  very  precaution  taken  by  the  worthy 
Hibernian  to  secure  his  missives,  had,  by  render- 
ing them  conspicuous,  produced  their  robbery. 
The  object  of  his  overland  journey,  therefore,  be- 
ing defeated,  he  gave  up  the  expedition.  The 
whole  party  repaired  with  Mr.  Robert  Stuart  to  the 
establishment  of  Mr.  David  Stuart,  on  the  Oakina- 
gan  River.  After  remaining  here  two  or  three  days 
they  all  set  out  on  their  return  to  Astoria,  accom- 
panied by  Mr.  David  Stuart.  This  gentleman 
had  a  large  quantity  of  beaver  skins  at  his  estab- 


.THE.  KAATERSKILL    IRVING  _ 


.Copyright  1881  by 


/ 


.-/.-•/ ft , 


ASTORIA. 


391 


lishment,  but  did  not  think  it  prudent  to  take 
them  with  him,  fearing  the  levy  of  "  black  mail" 
at  the  falls. 

On  their  way  down,  when  below  the  forks  of 
the  Columbia,  they  were  hailed  one  day  from  the 
shore  in  English.  Looking  around,  they  descried 
two  wretched  men,  entirely  naked.  They  pulled 
to  shore  ;  the  men  came  up  and  made  themselves 
known.  They  proved  to  be  Mr.  Crooks  and  his 
faithful  follower,  John  Day. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  Mr.  Crooks,  with 
Day  and  four  Canadians,  had  been  so  reduced 
by  famine  and  fatigue,  that  Mr.  Hunt  was  obliged 
to  leave  them,  in  the  month  of  December,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Snake  River.  Their  situation  was 
the  more  critical,  as  they  were  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  a  band  of  Shoshonies,  whose  horses  had 
been  forcibly  seized  by  Mr.  Hunt's  party  for  pro- 
visions. Mr.  Crooks  remained  here  twenty  days, 
detained  by  the  extremely  reduced  state  of  John 
Day,  who  was  utterly  unable  to  travel,  and 
whom  he  would  not  abandon,  as  Day  had  been  in 
his  employ  on  the  Missouri,  and  had  always 
proved  himself  most  faithful.  Fortunately  the 
Shoshonies  did  not  offer  to  molest  them.  They 
had  never  before  seen  white  men,  and  seemed  to 
entertain  some  superstitions  with  regard  to  them, 
for,  though  they  would  encamp  near  them  in  the 
day  time,  they  would  move  off  with  their  tents  in 
the  night  ;  and  finally  disappeared,  without  tak- 
ing leave. 

When  Day  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  travel, 
they  kept  feebly  on,  sustaining  themselves  as  well 
as  they  could,  until  in  the  month  of  February, 
when  three  of  the  Canadians,  fearful  of  perishing 
with  want,  left  Mr.  Crooks  on  a  small  river,  on 
the  road  by  which  Mr.  Hunt  had  passed  in  quest 
of  Indians.  Mr.  Crooks  followed  Mr.  Hunt's 
track  in  the  snow  for  several  days,  sleeping  as 
usual  in  the  open  air,  and  suffering  all  kinds  of 
hardships.  At  length,  coming  to  a  low  prairie,  he 
lost  every  appearance  of  the  "  trail,"  and  wan- 
dered during  the  remainder  of  the  winter  in  the 
mountains,  subsisting  sometimes  on  horse-meat, 
sometimes  on  beavers  and  their  skins,  and  a  part 
of  the  time  on  roots. 

About  the  last  of  March,  the  other  Canadian 
gave  out,  and  was  left  with  a  lodge  of  Shoshonies  ; 
but  Mr.  Crooks  and  John  Day  still  kept  on,  and 
finding  the  snow  sufficiently  diminshed,  under- 
took, from  Indian  information,  to  cross  the  last 
mountain  ridge.  They  happily  succeeded,  and 
afterward  fell  in  with  the  Wallah-Wallahs,  a  tribe 
of  Indians  inhabiting  the  banks  of  a  river  of  the 
same  name,  and  reputed  as  being  frank,  hospita- 
ble, and  sincere.  They  proved  worthy  of  the 
character,  for  they  received  the  poor  wanderers 
kindly,  killed  a  horse  for  them  to  eat,  and  direct- 
ed them  on  their  way  to  the  Columbia.  They 
struck  the  river  about  the  middle  of  April,  and 
advanced  down  it  one  hundred  miles,  until  they 
came  within  about  twenty  miles  of  the  falls. 

Here  they  met  with  some  of  the  "  chivalry"  of 
that  noted  pass,  who  received  them  in  a  friendly 
way,  and  set  food  before  them  ;  but,  while  they 
were  satisfying  their  hunger,  perfidiously  seized 
their  rifles.  They  then  stripped  them  naked,  and 
drove  them  off,  refusing  the  entreaties  of  Mr. 
Crooks  for  a  flint  and  steel  of  which  they  had  rob- 
bed him  ;  and  threatening  his  lite  if  he  did  not 
instantly  depart. 

In  this  forlorn  plight,  still  worse  off  than  before, 
they  renewed  their  wanderings.  They  now  sought 
to  find  their  way  back  to  the  hospitable  Wallah- 
Wallahs,  and  had  advanced  eighty  miles  along 


the  river,  when  fortunately,  on  the  very  morning 
that  they  were  going  to  leave  the  Columbia,  and 
strike  inland,  the  canoes  of  Mr.  Stuart  hove  in 
sight. 

It  is  needless  to  describe  the  joy  of  these  poor 
men  at  once  more  finding  themselves  among 
countrymen  and  friends,  or  of  the  honest  and 
hearty  welcome  with  which  they  were  received  by 
their  fellow  adventurers.  The  whole  party  now 
continued  down  the  river,  passed  all  the  danger- 
ous places  without  interruption,  and  arrived  safe- 
ly at  Astoria  on  the  nth  of  May. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

HAVING  traced  the  fortunes  of  the  two  expedi- 
tions by  sea  and  land  to  the  mouth  of  the  Colum- 
bia, and  presented  a  view  of  affairs  at  Astoria, 
we  will  return  for  a  moment  to  the  master-spirit 
of  the  enterprise  who  regulated  the  springs  of  As- 
toria, at  his  residence  in  New  York. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  a  part  of  the  plan 
of  Mr.  Astor  was  to  furnish  the  Russian  fur  es- 
tablishment on  the  north-west  coast  with  regular 
supplies,  so  as  to  render  it  independent  of  those 
casual  vessels  which  cut  up  the  trade  and  supplied 
the  natives  with  arms.  This  plan  had  been  coun- 
tenanced by  our  own  government,  and  likewise  by 
Count  Pahlem,  the  Russian  Minister  at  Washing- 
ton. As  it  views,  however,  were  important  and 
extensive,  and  might  eventually  affect  a  wide 
course  of  commerce,  Mr.  Astor  was  desirous  of 
establishing  a  complete  arrangement  on  the  sub- 
ject with  the  Russian  American  Fur  Company, 
under  the  sanction  of  the  Russian  Government. 
For  this  purpose,  in  March,  1811,  he  dispatched 
a  confidential  agent  to  St.  Petersburgh,  fully  em- 
powered to  enter  into  the  requisite  negotiations. 
A  passage  was  given  to  this  gentleman  by  the 
Government  of  the  United  States,  in  the  John 
Adams,  one  of  its  armed  vessels,  bound  to  a  Eu- 
ropean port. 

The  next  step  of  Mr.  Astor  was,  to  dispatch  the 
annual  ship  contemplated  in  his  general  plan.  He 
had  as  yet  heard  nothing  of  the  success  of  the 
previous  expeditions,  and  had  to  proceed  upon  the 
presumption  that  everything  had  been  effected  ac- 
cording to  his  instructions.  He  accordingly  fitted 
out  a  fine  ship  of  four  hundred  and  ninety  tons, 
called  the  Beaver,  and  freighted  her  with  a  valua- 
ble cargo  destined  for  the  factory,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Columbia,  the  trade  along  the  coast,  and 
the  supply  of  the  Russian  establishment.  In  this 
ship  embarked  a  reinforcement,  consisting  of  a 
partner,  five  clerks,  fifteen  American  laborers, 
and  six  Canadian  voyageurs.  In  choosing  his 
agents  for  his  first  expedition,  Mr.  Astor  had  been 
obliged  to  have  recourse  to  British  subjects  expe- 
rienced in  the  Canadian  fur  trade  ;  henceforth  it 
was  his  intention,  as  much  as  possible,  to  select 
Americans,  so  as  to  secure  an  ascendancy  of 
American  influence  in  the  management  of  the 
company,  and  to  make  it  decidedly  national. 

Accordingly,  Mr.  John  Clarke,  the  partner,  who 
took  the  lead  in  the  present  expedition,  was  a  na- 
tive of  the  United  States,  though  he  had  passed 
much  of  his  life  in  the  north-west,  having  been 
employed  in  the  fur  trade  since  the  age  of  sixteen. 
Most  of  the  clerks  were  young  gentlemen  of  good 
connections  in  the  American  cities,  some  of  whom 
embarked  in  the  hope  of  gain,  others  through  the 
mere  spirit  of  adventure  incident  to  youth. 

The  instructions  given  by  Mr,  Astor  to  Captain 


392 


ASTORIA. 


Sowle,  the  commander  of  the  Beaver,  were,  in 
some  respects,  hypothetical,  in  consequence  of 
the  uncertainty  resting  upon  the  previous  steps  of 
the  enterprise. 

He  was  to  touch  at  the  Sandwich  Islands,  in- 
quire about  the  fortunes  of  the  Tonquin,  and 
whether  an  establishment  had  been  formed  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia.  If  so,  he  was  to  take  as 
many  Sandwich  Islanders  as  his  ship  would  ac- 
commodate, and  proceed  hither.  On  arriving  at 
the  river,  he  was  to  observe  great  caution,  for 
even  if  an  establishment  should  have  been  form- 
ed, it  might  have  fallen  into  hostile  hands.  He 
was,  therefore,  to  put  in  as  it  by  casualty  or  dis- 
tress, to  give  himself  out  as  a  coasting  trader, 
and  to  say  nothing  about  his  ship  being  owned  by 
Mr.  Astor,  until  he  had  ascertained  that  every- 
thing was  right.  In  that  case,  he  was  to  land 
such  part  of  his  cargo  as  was  intended  for  the  es- 
tablishment, and  to  proceed  to  New  Archangel 
with  the  supplies  intended  for  the  Russian  post 
at  that  place,  where  he  could  receive  peltries  in 
payment.  With  these  he  was  to  return  to  As- 
toria ;  take  in  the  furs  collected  there,  and,  hav- 
ing completed  his  cargo  by  trading  along  the 
coast,  was  to  proceed  to  Canton.  The  captain 
received  the  same  injunctions  that  had  been  given 
to  Captain  Thorn  of  the  Tonquin,  of  great  cau- 
tion and  circumspection  in  his  intercourse  with 
the  natives,  and  that  he  should  not  permit  more 
than  one  or  two  to  be  on  board  at  a  time. 

The  Beaver  sailed  from  New  York  on  the  loth 
of  October,  1811,  and  reached  the  Sandwich 
Islands  without  any  occurrence  of  moment.  Here 
a  rumor  was  heard  of  the  disastrous  fate  of  the 
Tonquin.  Deep  solicitude  was  felt  by  every  one 
on  board  for  the  fate  of  both  expeditions,  by  sea 
and  land.  Doubts  were  entertained  whether  any 
establishment  had  been  formed  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  or  whether  any  of  the  company 
would  be  found  there.  After  much  deliberation, 
the  captain  took  twelve  Sandwich  Islanders  on 
board,  for  the  service  of  the  factory,  should  there 
be  one  in  existence,  and  proceeded  on  his  voyage. 

On  the  6th  of  May  he  arrived  off  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  and  running  as  near  as  possible, 
fired  two  signal-guns.  No  answer  was  returned, 
nor  was  there  any  signal  to  be  descried.  Night 
coming  on,  the  ship  stood  out  to  sea,  and  every 
heart  drooped  as  the  land  faded  away.  On  the 
following  morning  they  again  ran  in  within  four 
miles  of  the  shore,  and  fired  other  signal-guns, 
but  still  without  reply.  A  boat  was  then  dispatch- 
ed, to  sound  the  channel,  and  attempt  an  en- 
trance ;  but  returned  without  success,  there  be- 
ing a  tremendous  swell,  and  breakers.  Signal- 
guns  were  fired  again  in  the  evening,  but  equally 
m  vain,  and  once  more  the  ship  stood  off  to  sea 
for  the  night.  The  captain  now  gave  up  all  hope 
of  finding  any  establishment  at  the  place,  and  in- 
dulged in  the  most  gloomy  apprehensions.  He 
feared  his  predecessors  had  been  massacred  be- 
fore they  had  reached  their  place  of  destination  ; 
or  if  they  should  have  erected  a  factory,  that  it 
had  been  surprised  and  destroyed  by  the  natives. 

In  this  moment  of  doubt  and  uncertainty,  Mr. 
Clarke  announced  his  determination,  in  case  of 
the  worst,  to  found  an  establishment  with  the 
present  party,  and  all  hands  bravely  engaged  to 
stand  by  him  in  the  undertaking.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  ship  stood  in  for  the  third  time,  and  fired 
three  signal  guns,  but  with  little  hope  of  reply. 
To  the  great  joy  of  the  crew,  three  distinct  guns 
were  heard  in  answer.  The  apprehensions  of  all 
•but  Captain  Sowle  were  now  at  rest.  That  cau- 


tious commander  recollected  the  instructions 
given  him  by  Mr.  Astor,  and  determined  to  pro- 
ceed with  great  circumspection.  He  was  well 
aware  of  Indian  treachery  and  cunning.  It  was  not 
impossible,  he  observed,  that  these  cannon  might 
have  been  fired  by  the  savages  themselves.  They 
might  have  surprised  the  tort,  massacred  its  in- 
mates ;  and  these  signal-guns  might  only  be  de- 
coys to  lure  him  across  the  bar,  that  they  might 
have  a  chance  of  cutting  him  off,  and  seizing  his 
vessel. 

At  length  a  white  flag  was  descried  hoisted  as 
a  signal  on  Cape  Disappointment.  The  passen- 
gers pointed  to  it  in  triumph,  but  the  captain  did 
not  yet  dismiss  his  doubts.  A  beacon  fire  blazed 
through  the  night  on  the  same  place,  but  the  cap- 
tain observed  that  all  these  signals  might  be 
treacherous. 

On  the  following  morning,  May  gth,  the  vessel 
came  to  anchor  off  Cape  Disappointment,  outside 
of  the  bar.  Toward  noon  an  Indian  canoe  was 
seen  making  for  the  ship  and  all  hands  were  order- 
ed to  be  on  the  alert.  A  few  moments  afterward, 
a  barge  waspeiceived  following  the  canoe.  The 
hopes  and  fears  of  those  on  board  of  the  ship  were 
in  tumultuous  agitation,  as  the  boat  drew  nigh 
that  was  to  let  them  know  the  fortunes  of  the  en- 
terprise, and  the  fate  of  their  predecessors.  The 
captain,  who  was  haunted  with  the  idea  of  possi- 
ble treachery,  did  not  suffer  his  curiosity  to  get 
the  better  of  his  caution,  but  ordered  a  party  of 
his  men  under  arms,  to  receive  the  visitors.  The 
canoe  came  first  alongside,  in  which  were  Com- 
comly  and  six  Indians  ;  in  the  barge  were  M'Dou- 
gal,  M'Llellan,  and  eight  Canadians.  A  little 
conversation  with  these  gentlemen  dispelled  all 
the  captain's  fears,  and  the  Beaver  crossing  the 
bar  under  their  pilotage,  anchored  safely  in  Ba- 
ker's Bay. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

THE  arrival  of  the  Beaver  with  a  reinforcement 
and  supplies,  gave  new  life  and  vigor  to  affairs  at 
Astoria.  These  were  means  for  extending  the 
operations  of  the  establishment,  and  founding  in- 
terior trading  posts.  Two  parties  were  imme- 
diately set  on  foot  to  proceed  severally  under  the 
command  of  Messrs,  M'Kenzie  and  Clarke,  and 
establish  posts  above  the  forks  of  the  Columbia, 
at  points  where  most  rivalry  and  opposition  were 
apprehended  from  the  North-west  Company. 

A  third  party,  headed  by  Mr.  David  Stuart,  was 
to  repair  with  supplies  to  the  post  of  that  gentle- 
man on  the  Oakinagan.  In  addition  to  these  ex- 
peditions a  fourth  was  necessary  to  convey  dis- 
patches to  Mr.  Astor,  at  New  York,  in  place  of 
those  unfortunately  lost  by  John  Reed.  The  safe 
conveyance  of  these  dispatches  was  highly  im- 
portant, as  by  them  Mr.  Astor  would  receive  an 
account  of  the  state  of  the  factory,  and  regulate 
his  reinforcements  and  supplies  accordingly. 
The  mission  was  one  of  peril  and  hardship,  and 
required  a  man  of  nerve  and  vigor.  It  was  con- 
fided to  Robert  Stuart,  who,  though  he  had  never 
been  across  the  mountains,  and  a  very  young 
man,  had  given  proofs  of  his  competency  to  the 
task.  Four  trusty  and  well-tried  men,  who  had 
come  overland  in  Mr.  Hunt's  expedition,  were 
given  as  his  guides  and  hunters.  These  were 
Ben  Jones  and  John  Day,  the  Kentuckians,  and 
Andri  Vallar  and  Francis  Le  Clerc,  Canadians. 
Mr.  M'Lellan  again  expressed  his  determination 
to  take  this  opportunity  of  returning  to  the  Allan- 


ASTORIA. 


tic  States.  In  this  he  was  joined  by  Mr.  Crooks, 
who,  notwithstanding  all  that  he  had  suffered  in 
the  dismal  journey  of  the  preceding  winter,  was 
ready  to  retrace  his  steps  and  brave  every  danger 
and  hardship,  rather  than  remain  at  Astoria. 
This  little  handful  of  adventurous  men  we  propose 
to  accompany  in  its  long  and  perilous  peregrina- 
tions. 

The  several  parties  we  have  mentioned  all  set  off 
in  company  on  the  2gth  of  June,  under  a  salute  of 
cannon  from  the  fort.  They  were  to  keep  together, 
for  mutual  protection,  through  the  piratical  passes 
of  the  river,  and  to  separate,  on  their  different 
destinations,  at  the  forks  of  the  Columbia.  Their 
number,  collectively,  was  nearly  sixty,  consisting 
of  partners  and  clerks,  Canadian  voyageurs,  Sand- 
wich Islanders,  and  American  hunters  ;  and  they 
embarked  in  two  barges  and  ten  canoes. 

They  had  scarcely  got  under  way,  when  John 
Day,  the  Kentucky  hunter,  became  restless  and 
uneasy,  and  extremely  wayward  in  his  deport- 
ment. This  caused  surprise,  for  in  general,  he 
was  remarkable  for  his  cheerful,  manly  deport- 
ment. It  was  supposed  that  the  recollection  of 
past  sufferings  might  harass  his  mind  in  under- 
taking to  retrace  the  scenes  where  they  had  been 
experienced.  As  the  expedition  advanced,  how- 
ever, his  agitation  increased.  He  began  to  talk 
wildly  and  incoherently,  and  to  show  manifest 
symptoms  of  derangement. 

Mr.  Crooks  now  informed  his  companions  that 
in  his  desolate  wanderings  through  the  Snake 
River  country  during  the  preceding  winter,  in 
which  he  had  been  accompanied  by  John  Day, 
the  poor  fellow's  wits  had  been  partially  unset- 
tled by  the  sufferings  and  horrors  through  which 
they  had  passed,  and  he  doubted  whether  they 
had  ever  been  restored  to  perfect  sanity.  It  was 
still  hoped  that  this  agitation  of  spirit  might  pass 
away  as  they  proceeded  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  it 
grew  more  and  more  violent.  His  comrades  en- 
deavored to  divert  his  mind  and  to  draw  him 
into  rational  conversation,  but  he  only  became 
the  more  exasperated,  uttering  wild  and  inco- 
herent ravings.  The  sight  of  any  of  the  natives 
put  him  in  an  absolute  fury,  and  he  would  heap 
on  them  the  most  opprobrious  epithets  ;  recollect- 
ing, no  doubt,  what  he  had  suffered  from  Indian 
robbers. 

On  the  evening  of  the  2d  of  July  he  became  ab- 
solutely frantic,  and  attempted  to  destroy  himself. 
-Being  disarmed,  he  sank  into  quietude,  and  pro- 
fessed the  greatest  remorse  for  the  crime  he  had 
meditated.  He  then  pretended  to  sleep,  and  hav- 
ing thus  lulled  suspicion,  suddenly  sprang  up, 
just  before  daylight,  seized  a  pair  of  loaded  pis- 
tols, and  endeavored  to  blow  out  his  brains.  In 
his  hurry  he  fired  too  high,  and  the  balls  passed 
over  his  head.  He  was  instantly  secured  and 
placed  under  a  guard  in  one  of  the  boats.  How 
to  dispose  of  him  was  now  the  question,  as  it  was 
impossible  to  keep  him  with  the  expedition.  For- 
tunately Mr.  Stuart  met  with  some  Indians  ac- 
customed to  trade  with  Astoria.  These  under- 
took to  conduct  John  Day  back  to  the  factory, 
and  deliver  him  there  in  safety.  It  was  with  the 
utmost  cocern  that  his  comrades  saw  the  poor  Jel- 
low  depart  ;  for,  independent  of  his  invaluable 
services  as  a  first-rate  hunter,  his  frank  and  loyal 
qualities  had  made  him  a  universal  favorite.  It 
may  be  as  well  to  add  that  the  Indians  executed 
their  task  faithfully,  and  landed  John  Day  among 
his  friends  at  Astoria  ;  but  his  constitution  was 
completely  broken  by  the  hardships  he  had  under- 
gone, and  he  died  within  a  year. 


On  the  evening  of  the  6th  of  July  the  party  ar- 
rived at  the  piratical  pass  of  the  river,  and  en- 
camped at  the  foot  of  the  first  rapid.  The  next 
day,  before  the  commencement  of  the  portage, 
the  greatest  precautions  were  taken  to  guard 
against  lurking  treachery,  or  open  attack.  The 
weapons  of  every  man  were  put  in  order,  and  his 
cartridge-box  replenished.  Each  one  wore  a  kind 
of  surcoat  made  of  the  skin  of  the  elk,  reaching 
from  his  neck  to  his  knees,  and  answering  the 
purpose  of  a  shirt  of  mail,  for  it  was  arrow  proof, 
and  it  could  even  resist  a  musket  ball  at  the  dis- 
tance of  ninety  yards.  Thus  armed  and  equipped, 
they  posted  their  forces  in  military  style.  Five  of 
the  officers  took  their  stations  at  each  end  of  the 
portage,  which  was  between  three  and  four  miles 
in  length;  a  number  of  men  mounted  guard  at  short 
distances  along  the  heights  immediately  overlook- 
ing the  river,  while  the  residue,  thus  protected 
from  surprise, employed  themselves  below  in  drag- 
ging up  the  barges  and  canoes,  and  carrying  up 
the  goods  along  the  narrow  margin  of  the  rapids. 
With  these  precautions  they  all  passed  unmolest- 
ed. The  only  accident  that  happened  was  the 
upsetting  of  one  of  the  canoes,  by  which  some  of 
the  goods  sunk,  and  others  floated  down  the 
stream.  The  alertness  and  rapacity  of  the  hordes 
which  infest  these  rapids,  were  immediately  ap- 
parent. They  pounced  upon  the  floating  mer- 
chandise with  the  keenness  of  regular  wreckers. 
A  bale  of  goods  which  landed  upon  one  of  the 
islands  was  immediately  ripped  open,  one  half  of 
its  contents  divided  among  the  captives,  and  the 
other  half  secreted  in  a  lonely  hut  in  a  deep  ra- 
vine. Mr.  Robert  Stuart,  however,  set  out  in  a 
canoe  with  five  men  and  an  interpreter,  ferreted 
out  the  wreckers  in  their  retreat,  and  succeeded 
in  wresting  from  them  their  booty. 

Similar  precautions  to  those  already  mentioned, 
and  to  a  still  greater  extent,  were  observed  in 
passing  the  long  narrows,  and  the  falls,  where  they 
would  be  exposed  to  the  depredations  of  the  chiv- 
alry of  Wish-ram,  and  its  Ireebooting  neighbor- 
hood. In  fact,  they  had  scarcely  set  their  first 
watch  one  night,  when  an  alarm  of  "  Indians  !" 
was  given.  "  To  arms  !"  was  the  cry,  and  every 
man  was  at  his  post  in  an  instant.  The  alarm 
was  explained  ;  a  war  party  of  Shoshonies  had 
surprised  a  canoe  of  the  natives  just  below  the  en- 
campment, had  murdered  four  men  and  two 
women,  and  it  was  apprehended  they  would  at- 
tack the  camp.  The  boats  and  canoes  were  im- 
mediately hauled  up,  a  breastwork  was  made  of 
them,  and  the  packages,  forming  three  sides  of 
a  square,  with  the  river  in  the  rear,  and  thus  the 
party  remained  fortified  throughout  the  night. 

The  dawn,  however,  dispelled  the  alarm  ;  the 
portage  was  conducted  in  peace  ;  the  vagabond 
warriors  of  the  vicinity  hovered  about  them  while 
at  work,  but  were  kept  at  a  wary  distance.  They 
regarded  the  loads  of  merchandise  with  wistful 
eyes,  but  seeing  the  "  long-beards"  so  formidable 
in  number,  and  so  well  prepared  for  action,  they 
made  no  attempt,  either  by  open  force  or  sly  pil- 
fering to  collect  their  usual  toll,  but  maintained  a 
peaceful  demeanor,  and  were  afterward  rewarded 
for  their  good  conduct  with  presents  of  tobacco. 

Fifteen  days  were  consumed  in  ascending  from 
the  foot  of  the  first  rapid,  to  the  head  of  the  falls, 
a  distance  of  about  eighty  miles,  but  full  of  all 
kinds  of  obstructions.  Having  happily  accom- 
plished these  difficult  portages,  the  party,  on  the 
1 9th  of  July,  arrived  at  a  smoother  part  of  the 
river,  and  pursued  their  way  up  the  stream  with 
greater  speed  and  facility. 


ASTORIA, 


They  were  now  in  the  neighborhood  where  Mr. 
Crooks  and  John  Day  had  been  so  perfidiously 
robbed  and  stripped  a  few  months  previously, 
when  confiding  in  the  proffered  hospitality  of  a 
ruffian  band.  On  landing  at  night,  therefore,  a 
vigilant  guard  was  maintained  about  the  camp. 
On  the  following  morning  a  number  of  Indians 
made  their  appearance,  and  came  prowling  round 
the  party  while  at  breakfast.  To  his  great  delight 
Mr.  Crooks  recognized  among  them  two  of  the 
miscreants  by  whom  he  had  been  robbed.  They 
were  instantly  seized,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and 
thrown  into  one  of  the  canoes.  Here  they  lay  in 
doleful  fright,  expecting  summary  execution.  Mr. 
Crooks,  however,  was  out  of  a  revengeful  disposi- 
tion, and  agreed  to  release  the  culprits  as  soon  as 
the  pillaged  property  should  be  restored.  Several 
savages  immediately  started  off  in  different  direc- 
tions, and  before  night  the  rifles  ot  Crooks  and 
Day  were  produced  ;  several  of  the  smaller  arti- 
cles pilfered  from  them,  however,  could  not  be  re- 
covered. 

The  bands  of  the  culprits  were  then  removed, 
and  they  lost  no  time  in  taking  their  departure, 
still  under  the  influence  of  abject  terror,  and 
scarcely  crediting  their  senses  that  they  had  es- 
caped the  merited  punishment  ol  their  offences. 

The  country  on  each  side  of  the  river  now  be- 
gan to  assume  a  different  character.  The  hills, 
and  cliffs,  and  forests  disappeared  ;  vast  sandy 
plains,  scantily  clothed  here  and  there  with  short 
tufts  of  grass,  parched  by  the  summer  sun,  stretch- 
ed tar  away  to  the  north  and  south.  The  river 
was  occasionally  obstructed  with  rocks  and  rap- 
ids, but  often  there  were  smooth,  placid  intervals, 
where  the  current  was  gentle,  and  the  boatmen 
were  enabled  to  lighten  their  labors  with  the  as- 
sistance of  the  sail. 

The  natives  in  this  part  of  the  river  resided  en- 
tirely on  the  northern  side.  They  were  hunters, 
as  well  as  fishermen,  and  had  horses  in  plenty. 
Some  of  these  were  purchased  by  the  party,  as 
provisions,  and  killed  on  the  spot,  though  they 
occasionally  found  a  difficulty  in  procuring  fuel 
wherewith  to  cook  them.  One  of  the  greatest 
dangers  that  beset  the  travellers  in  this  part  of 
their  expedition,  was  the  vast  number  of  rattle- 
snakes which  infested  the  rocks  about  the  rapids 
and  portages,  and  on  which  the  men  were  in  dan- 
ger of  treading.  They  were  often  found,  too,  in 
quantities  about  the  encampments.  In  one  place 
a  nest  of  them  lay  coiled  together,  basking  in  the 
sun.  Several  guns  loaded  with  shot  were  dis- 
charged at  them,  and  thirty-seven  killed  and 
wounded.  To  prevent  any  unwelcome  visits  from 
them  in  the  night,  tobacco  was  occasionally  strewed 
around  the  tents,  a  weed  for  which  they  have  a 
very  proper  abhorrence. 

On  the  28th  of  July,  the  travellers  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Wallah-Wallah,  a  bright,  clear 
stream,  about  six  feet  deep  and  fifty-five  yards 
wide,  which  flows  rapidly  over  a  bed  of  sand  and 
gravel,  and  throws  itself  into  the  Columbia,  a 
few  miles  below  Lewis  River.  Here  the  com- 
bined parties  that  had  thus  far  voyaged  together 
were  to  separate,  each  for  its  particular  destina- 
tion. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Wallah- Wallah  lived  the 
hospitable  tribe  of  the  same  name  who  had  suc- 
cored Mr.  Crooks  and  John  Day  in  the  time  of 
their  extremity.  No  sooner  did  they  hear  of  the 
arrival  of  the  party,  than  they  hastened  to  greet 
them.  They  built  a  great  bonfire  on  the  bank  of 
the  river,  before  the  camp,  and  men  and  women 
danced  round  it  to  the  cadence  of  their  songs,  in 


which  they  sang  the  praises  of  the  white  men,  and 
welcomed  them  to  their  country. 

On  the  following  day  a  traffic  was  commenced, 
to  procure  horses  tor  such  of  the  party  as  intended 
to  proceed  by  land.  The  Wallah-Wallahs  are  an 
equestrian  tribe.  The  equipments  of  their  horses 
were  rude  and  inconvenient.  High  saddles,  rough- 
ly made  of  deer  skin,  stuffed  with  hair,  which 
chafe  the  horse's  back,  and  leave  it  raw  ;  wooden 
stirrups  with  a  thong  of  raw  hide  wrapped  round 
them  ;  and  for  bridles  they  have  cords  of  twisted 
horse-hair,  \\hich  they  tie  round  the  under  jaw. 
They  are,  like  most  Indians,  bold  but  hard  riders, 
and  when  on  horseback  gallop  about  the  most 
dangerous  places,  without  fear  for  themselves,  or 
pity  for  their  steeds. 

From  these  people  Mr.  Stuart  purchased  twenty 
horses  for  his  party  ;  some  for  the  saddle,  and 
others  to  transport  the  baggage.  He  was  fortu- 
nate in  procuring  a  noble  animal  for  his  own  use, 
which  was  praised  by  the  Indians  for  its  great 
speed  and  bottom,  and  a  high  price  set  upon  it. 
No  people  understand  better  the  value  of  a  horse 
than  these  equestrian  tribes  ;  and  nowhere  is 
speed  a  greater  requisite,  as  they  frequently  en- 
gage in  the  chase  of  the  antelope,  one  of  the  fleet- 
est of  animals.  Even  after  the  Indian  who  sold 
this  boasted  horse  to  Mr.  Stuart  had  concluded 
his  bargain,  he  lingered  about  the  animal,  seem- 
ing loth  to  part  from  him,  and  to  be  sorry  for 
what  he  had  done. 

A  day  or  two  were  employed  by  Mr.  Stuart  in 
arranging  packages  and  pack-saddles,  and  mak- 
ing other  preparations  for  his  long  and  arduous 
journey.  His  party,  by  the  loss  of  John  Day, 
was  now  reduced  to  six,  a  small  number  for  such 
an  expedition.  They  were  young  men,  however, 
full  of  courage,  health,  and  good  spirits,  and 
stimulated,  rather  than  appalled  by  danger. 

On  the  morning  of  the  31  st  ot  July,  all  prepara- 
tions being  concluded,  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  little 
band  mounted  their  steeds  and  took  a  farewell  of 
their  fellow-travellers,  who  gave  them  three 
hearty  cheers  as  they  set  out  on  their  dangerous 
journey.  The  course  they  took  was  to  the  south- 
east, toward  the  fated  region  of  the  Snake  River. 
At  an  immense  distance  rose  a  chain  of  craggy 
mountains,  which  they  would  have  to  traverse  ; 
they  were  the  same  among  which  the  travellers 
had  experienced  such  sufferings  from  cold  during 
the  preceding  winter,  and  from  their  azure  tints, 
when  seen  at  a  distance,  had  received  the  name 
of  the  Blue  Mountains. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

IN  retracing  the  route  which  had  proved  so  dis- 
astrous to  Mr.  Hunt's  party  during  the  preceding 
winter.Mr.  Stuart  had  trusted,  in  the  present  more 
favorable  season,  to  find  easy  travelling  and  abun- 
dant supplies.  On  these  great  wastes  and  wilds, 
however,  each  season  has  its  peculiar  hardships. 
The  travellers  had  not  proceeded  far,  beiore  they 
found  themselves  among  naked  and  arid  hills, with 
a  soil  composed  of  sand  and  clay,  baked  and  brit- 
tle, that  to  all  appearance  had  never  been  visited 
by  the  dews  of  heaven. 

Not  a  spring,  or  pool,  or  running  stream  was  to 
be  seen  ;  the  sunburnt  country  was  seamed  and 
cut  up  by  dry  ravines,  the  beds  of  winter  torrents 
sen-ing  only  to  balk  the  hopes  of  man  and  beast, 
with  the  sight  of  dusty  channels  where  water  had 
once  poured  along  in  floods. 


ASTORIA. 


395 


For  a  long  summer  day  they  continued  onward 
without  halting  ;  a  burning  sky  above  their  heads, 
a  parched  desert  beneath  their  feet,  with  just 
wind  enough  to  raise  the  light  sand  from  the 
knolls,  and  envelop  them  in  stifling  clouds.  The 
sufferings  from  thirst  became  intense  ;  a  fine 
young  dog,  their  only  companion  of  the  kind, 
gave  out,  and  expired.  Evening  drew  on  without 
any  prospect  of  relief,  and  they  were  almost  re- 
duced to  despair,  when  they  descried  something 
that  looked  like  a  fringe  of  forest  along  the  hori- 
zon. All  were  inspired  with  new  hope,  for  they 
knew  that  on  these  arid  wastes,  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  trees,  there  is  always  water. 

They  now  quickened  their  pace  ;  the  horses 
seemed  to  undersatnd  their  motives,  and  to  par- 
take of  their  anticipations  ;  for,  though  before  al- 
most ready  to  give  out,  they  now  required  neither 
whip  nor  spur.  With  all  their  exertions  it  was 
late  in  the  night  before  they  drew  near  to  the 
trees.  As  they  approached,  they  heard  with  trans- 
port, the  rippling  of  a  shallow  stream.  No  sooner 
did  the  refreshing  sound  reach  the  ears  of  the 
horses,  than  the  poor  animals  snuffed  the  air, 
rushed  forward  with  ungovernable  eagerness,  and 
plunging  their  muzzles  into  the  water,  drank  until 
they  seemed  in  danger  of  bursting.  Their  riders 
had  but  little  more  discretion,  and  required  re- 
peated draughts  to  quench  their  excessive  thirst. 
Their  weary  march  that  day  had  been  forty-five 
miles,  over  a  track  that  might  rival  the  deserts  of 
Africa  for  aridity.  Indeed,  the  sufferings  of  the 
traveller -on  these  American  deserts,  is  frequently 
more  severe  than  in  the  wastes  of  Africa  or  Asia, 
from  being  less  habituated  and  prepared  to  cope 
with  them. 

On  the  banks  of  this  blessed  stream  the  travellers 
encamped  for  the  night  ;  and  so  great  had  been 
their  fatigue,  and  so  sound  and  sweet  was  their 
sleep,  that  it  was  a  late  hour  the  next  morning  be- 
fore they  awoke.  They  now  recognized  the  little 
river  to  be  the  Umatalla,  the  same  on  the  banks  of 
which  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  followers  had  arrived 
after  their  painful  struggle  through  the  Blue 
Mountains,  and  experienced  such  a  kind  relief  in 
the  friendly  camp  of  the  Sciatogas. 

That  range  of  Blue  Mountains  now  extended  in 
the  distance  before  them  ;  they  were  the  same 
among  which  poor  Michael  Carriere  had  perished. 
They  form  the  south-east  boundary  of  the  great 
plains  along  the  Columbia,  dividing  the  waters  of 
its  main  stream  from  those  of  Lewis  River.  They 
are,  in  fact,  a  part  of  a  long  chain,  which  stretches 
over  a  great  extent  of  country,  and  includes  in  its 
links  the  Snake  River  Mountains. 

The  day  was  somewhat  advanced  before  the 
travellers  left  the  shady  banks  of  the  Umatalla. 
Their  route  gradually  took  them  among  the  Blue 
Mountains,  which  assumed  the  most  rugged  as- 
pect on  a  near  approach.  They  were  shagged 
with  dense  and  gloomy  forests,  and  cut  up  by 
deep  and  precipitous  ravines,  extremely  toilsome 
to  the  horses.  Sometimes  the  travellers  had  to 
follow  the  course  of  some  brawling  stream,  with  a 
broken,  rocky  bed,  which  the  shouldering  cliffs 
and  promontories  on  either  side,  obliged  them  fre- 
quently to  cross  and  recross.  For  some  miles 
they  struggled  forward  through  these  savage  and 
darkly  wooded  defiles,  when  all  at  once  the 
whole  landscape  changed,  as  if  by  magic.  The 
rude  mountains  and  rugged  ravines  softened  into 
beautiful  hills,  and  intervening  meadows,  with 
rivulets  winding  through  fresh  herbage,  and 
sparkling  and  murmuring  over  gravelly  beds,  the 
whole  forming  a  verdant  and  pastoral  scene,  which 


derived  additional  charms  from  being  locked  up 
in  the  bosom  of  such  a  hard-hearted  region. 

Emerging  from  the  chain  of  Blue  Mountains, 
they  descended  upon  a  vast  plain,  almost  a  dead 
level,  sixty  miles  in  circumference,  of  excellent 
soil,  with  fine  streams  meandering  through  it  in. 
every  direction,  their  courses  marked  out  in  the 
wide  landscape  by  serpentine  lines  of  cotton-wood 
trees,  and  willows,  which  fringed  their  banks,  and 
afforded  sustenance  to  great  numbers  of  beavers 
and  otters. 

In  traversing  this  plain,  they  passed,  close  to 
the  skirts  of  the  hills,  a  great  pool  oi  water,  three 
hundred  yards  in  circumference,  fed  by  a  sulphur 
spring,  about  ten  feet  in  diameter,  boiling  up  in 
one  corner.  The  vapor  from  this  pool  was  ex- 
tremely noisome,  and  tainted  the  air  for  a  consid- 
erable distance.  The  place  was  much  frequented 
by  elk,  which  were  found  in  considerable  num- 
bers in  the  adjacent  mountains,  and  their  horns, 
shed  in  the  spring  time,  were  strewed  in  every  di- 
rection around  the  pond. 

On  the  2Oth  of  August,  they  reached  the  main 
body  of  Woodvile  Creek,  the  same  stream  which 
Mr.  Hunt  had  ascended  in  the  preceding  year, 
shortly  after  his  separation  from  Mr.  Crooks. 

On  the  banks  of  this  stream  they  saw  a  herd  of 
nineteen  antelopes  ;  a  sight  so  unusual  in  that 
part  of  the  country,  that  at  first  they  doubted  the 
evidence  of  their  senses.  They  tried  by  every 
means  to  get  within  shot  of  them,  but  they  were 
too  shy  and  fleet,  and  after  alternately  bounding 
to  a  distance,  and  then  stopping  to  gaze  with  ca- 
pricious curiosity  at  the  hunter,  they  at  length 
scampered  out  of  sight. 

On  the  1 2th  of  August  the  travellers  arrived  on 
the  banks  of  Snake  River,  the  scene  of  so  many 
trials  and  mishaps  to  all  of  the  present  party  ex- 
cepting Mr.  Stuart.  They  struck  the  river  just 
above  the  place  where  it  entered  the  mountains, 
through  which  Messrs.  Stuart  and  Crooks  had 
vainly  endeavored  to  find  a  passage.  The  river 
was  here  a  rapid  stream,  four  hundred  yards  m 
width,  with  high  sandy  banks,  and  here  and  there 
a  scanty  growth  of  willow.  Up  the  southern  side 
of  the  river  they  now  bent  their  course,  intending 
to  visit  the  caches  made  by  Mr.  Hunt  at  the  Cal- 
dron Linn.* 

On  the  second  evening  a  solitary  Snake  Indian 
visited  their  camp,  at  a  late  hour,  and  informed 
them  that  there  was  a  white  man  residing  at  one 
of  the  cantonments  of  his  tribe,  about  a  day's 
journey  higher  up  the  river.  It  was  immediately 
concluded  that  he  must  be  one  of  the  poor  fellows 
ol  Mr.  Hunt's  party,  who  had  given  out,  exhaust- 
ed by  hunger  and  fatigue,  in  the  wretched  jour- 
ney of  the  preceding  winter.  All  present,  who 
had  borne  a  part  in  the  sufferings  of  that  journey, 
were  eager  now  to  press  forward,  and  bring  relief 
to  a  lost  comrade.  Early  the  next  morning,  there- 
fore, they  pushed  forward  with  unusual  alacrity. 
For  two  days,  however,  did  they  travel  without 
being  able  to  find  any  trace  of  such  a  straggler. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  they  arrived 
at  a  place  where  a  large  river  came  in  from  the 
east, which  was  renowned  among  all  the  wandering 
hordes  of  the  Snake  nation  for  its  salmon  fishery, 
that  fish  being  taken  in  incredible  quantities  in 
this  neighborhood.  Here,  therefore,  during  the 
fishing  season,  the  Snake  Indians  resort  from  far 
and  near,  to  lay  in  their  stock  of  salmon,  which, 
with  esculent  roots,  forms  the  principal  food  of 
the  inhabitants  of  these  barren  regions. 

On  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  emptying  into 
Snake  River  at  this  place,  Mr.  Stuart  found  an 


ASTORIA. 


encampment  of  Shoshonies.  He  made  the  usual 
inquiry  of  them  concerning  the  white  man  of  whom 
he  had  received  intelligence.  No  such  person 
was  dwelling  among  them,  but  they  said  there 
were  white  men  residing  with  some  of  their  nation 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river.  This  was  still 
more  animating  information.  Mr.  Crooks  now 
hoped  that  these  might  be  the  men  of  his  party, 
who,  disheartened  by  perils  and  hardships,  had 
prelerred  to  remain  among  the  Indians.  Others 
thought  they  might  be  Mr.  Miller  and  the  hunters 
who  had  left  the  main  body  at  Henry's  Fort,  to 
trap  among  the  mountain  streams.  Mr.  Stuart 
halted,  therefore,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Sho- 
shonie  lodges,  and  sent  an  Indian  across  the  river 
to  seek  out  the  white  men  in  question,  and  bring 
them  to  his  camp. 

The  travellers  passed  a  restless,  miserable  night. 
The  place  swarmed  with  myriads  of  mosquitoes, 
which,  with  their  stings  and  their  music,  set  all 
sleep  at  defiance.  The  morning  dawn  found  them 
in  a  feverish,  irritable  mood,  and  their  spleen  was 
completely  aroused  by  the  return  of  the  Indian 
without  any  intelligence  of  the  white  men.  They 
now  considered  themselves  the  dupes  of  Indian 
falsehoods,  and  resolved  to  put  no  more  confi- 
dence in  Snakes.  They  soon,  however,  forgot 
this  resolution.  In  the  course  of  the  morning,  an 
Indian  came  galloping  after  them  ;  Mr.  Stuart 
waited  to  receive  him  ;  no  sooner  had  he  come 
up,  than,  dismounting  and  throwing  his  arms 
round  the  neck  of  Mr.  Stuart's  horse,  he  began 
to  kiss  and  caress  the  animal,  who  on  his  part 
seemed  by  no  means  surprised  or  displeased  with 
his  salutation.  Mr.  Stuart,  who  valued  his  horse 
highly,  was  somewhat  annoyed  by  these  trans- 
ports ;  the  cause  of  them  was  soon  explained. 
The  Snake  said  the  horse  had  belonged  to  him, 
and  been  the  best  in  his  possession,  and  that  it 
had  been  stolen  by  the  Wallah-Wallahs.  Mr. 
Stuart  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  recog- 
nition oi  his  steed,  nor  disposed  to  admit  any 
claim  on  the  part  of  its  ancient  owner.  In  fact, 
it  was  a  noble  animal,  admirably  shaped,  of  free 
and  generous  spirit,  graceful  in  movement,  and 
fleet  as  an  antelope.  It  was  his  intention,  if  pos- 
sible, to  take  the  horse  to  New  York,  and  present 
him  to  Mr.  Astor. 

In  the  meantime  some  of  the  party  came  up, 
and  immediately  recognized  in  the  Snake  an  old 
friend  and  ally.  He  was  in  fact  one  of  the  two 
guides  who  had  conducted  Mr.  Hunt's  party,  in 
the  preceding  autumn,  across  Mad  River  Moun- 
tain to  Fort  Henry,  and  who  subsequently  depart- 
ed with  Mr.  Miller  and  his  fellow  trappers,  to 
conduct  them  to  a  good  trapping  ground.  The 
reader  may  recollect  that  these  two  trusty  Snakes 
were  engaged  by  Mr.  Hunt  to  return  and  take 
charge  of  the  horses  which  the  party  intended  to 
leave  at  Fort  Henry,  when  they  should  embark 
in  canoes. 

The  party  now  crowded  round  the  Snake,  and 
began  to  question  him  with  eagerness.  His  replies 
were  somewhat  vague,  and  but  partially  under- 
stood. He  told  a  long  story  about  the  horses, 
trom  which  it  appeared  that  they  had  been  stolen 
by  various  wandering  bands,  and  scattered  in 
different  directions.  The  cache,  too,  had  been 
plundered,  and  the  saddles  and  other  equipments 
carried  off.  His  information  concerning  Mr.  Mil- 
ler and  his  comrades,  was  not  more  satisfactory. 
They  had  trapped  for  some  time  about  the  upper 
streams,  but  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  ma- 
rauding party  of  Crows,  who  had  robbed  them  of 
horses,  weapons,  and  everything. 


Further  questioning  brought  forth  further  intel- 
ligence, but  all  of  a  disastrous  kind.  About  ten 
days  previously,  he  had  met  with  three  other 
white  men,  in  very  miserable  plight,  having  one 
horse  each,  and  but  one  rifle  among  them.  They 
also  had  been  plundered  and  maltreated  by  the 
Crows,  those  universal  freebooters.  The  Snake 
endeavored  to  pronounce  the  names  of  these  three 
men,  and  as  far  as  his  imperfect  sounds  could  be 
understood,  they  were  supposed  to  be  three  of  the 
party  of  four  hunters,  viz.,  Carson,  St.  Michael, 
Detaye",  and  Delaunay,  who  were  detached  from 
Mr.  Hunt's  party  on  the  28th  of  September,  to 
trap  beaver  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Columbia. 

In  the  course  of  conversation,  the  Indian  in- 
formed them  that  the  route  by  which  Mr.  Hunt 
had  crossed  the  Rocky  Mountains,  was  very  bad 
and  circuitous,  and  that  he  knew  one  much  shorter 
and  easier.  Mr.  Stuart  urged  him  to  accompany 
them  as  guide,  promising  to  reward  him  with  a 
pistol  with  powder  and  ball,  a  knife,  an  awl,  some 
blue  beads,  a  blanket,  and  a  looking-glass.  Such 
a  catalogue  of  riches  was  too  tempting  to  be  re- 
sisted ;  beside  the  poor  Snake  languished  after  the 
prairies  ;  he  was  tired,  he  said,  of  salmon,  and 
longed  for  buffalo  meat,  and  to  have  a  grand  buf- 
falo hunt  beyond  the  mountains.  He  departed, 
therefore,  with  all  speed,  to  get  his  arms  and 
equipment  for  the  journey,  promising  to  rejoin  the 
party  the  next  day.  He  kept  his  word,  and,  as  he 
no  longer  said  anything  to  Mr.  Stuart  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  pet  horse,  they  journeyed  very  harmo,- 
niously  together  ;  though  now  and  then,  the  Snake 
would  regard  his  quondam  steed  with  a  wistful 
eye. 

They  had  not  travelled  many  miles,  when  they 
came  to  a  great  bend  in  the  river.  Here  the 
Snake  informed  them  that,  by  cutting  across  the 
hills  they  would  save  many  miles  distance.  The 
route  across,  however,  would  be  a  good  day's 
journey.  He  advised  them,  therefore,  to  encamp 
here  for  the  night,  and  set  off  early  in  the  morn- 
ing. They  took  his  advice,  though  they  had  come 
but  nine  miles  that  day. 

On  the  following  morning  they  rose,  bright  and 
early,  to  ascend  the  hills.  On  mustering  their 
little  party,  the  guide  was  missing.  They  sup- 
posed him  to  be  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  proceeded  to  collect  the  horses.  The  vaunted 
steed  of  Mr.  Stuart  was  not  to  be  found.  A  sus- 
picion flashed  upon  his  mind.  Search  for  the 
horse  of  the  Snake  ! — He  likewise  was  gone— the 
tracks  of  two  horses,  one  after  the  other,  were 
found,  making  off  from  the  camp.  They  appear- 
ed as  if  one  horse  had  been  mounted,  and  the 
other  led.  They  were  traced  for  a  few  miles 
above  the  camp,  until  they  both  crossed  the  river. 
It  was  plain  the  Snake  had  taken  an  Indian  mode 
of  recovering  his  horse,  having  quietly  decamped 
with  him  in  the  night. 

New  vows  were  made  never  more  to  trust  in 
Snakes  or  any  other  Indians.  It  was  determined, 
also,  to  maintain,  hereafter,  the  strictest  vigi- 
lance over  their  horses,  dividing  the  night  into 
three  watches,  and  one  person  mounting  guard 
at  a  time.  They  resolved,  also,  to  keep  along  the 
river,  instead  of  taking  the  short  cut  recommend- 
ed by  the  fugitive  Snake,  whom  they  now  set- 
down  for  a  thorough  deceiver.  The  heat  of  the 
weather  was  oppressive,  and  their  horses  were,  at 
times,  rendered  almost  frantic  by  the  stings  of 
the  prairie  flies.  The  nights  were  suffocating, 
and  it  was  almost  impossible  to  sleep,  from  the 
swarms  of  mosquitoes. 

On   the   2oth   of    August  they   resumed   their 


ASTORIA. 


397 


march,  keeping  along  the  prairie  parallel  to  Snake 
River.  The  day  was  sultry,  and  some  of  the 
party,  being  parched  with  thirst,  left  the  line  of 
march,  and  scrambled  down  the  bank  of  the  river 
to  drink.  The  bank  was  overhung  with  willows, 
.beneath  which,  to  their  surprise,  they  beheld  a 
man  fishing.  No  sooner  did  he  see  them,  than 
he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  joy.  It  proved  to  be 
John  Hoback,  one  of  their  lost  comrades.  They 
had  scarcely  exchanged  greetings,  when  three 
other  men  came  out  from  among  the  willows. 
They  were  Joseph  Miller,  Jacob  Rezner,  and  Rob- 
inson, the  scalped  Kentuckian,  the  veteran  of  the 
Bloody  Ground. 

The  reader  will  perhaps  recollect  the  abrupt 
and  willul  manner  in  which  Mr.  Miller  threw 
up  his  interest  as  a  partner  of  the  company,  and 
departed  from  Fort  Henry,  in  company  with  these 
three  trappers,  and  a  fourth,  named  Cass.  He 
may  likewise  recognize  in  Robinson,  Rezner,  and 
Hoback,  the  trio  of  Kentucky  hunters  who  had 
originally  been  in  the  service  of  Mr.  Henry,  and 
whom  Mr.  Hunt  found  floating  down  the  Mis- 
souri, on  their  way  homeward  ;  and  prevailed 
upon,  once,  more,  to  cross  the  mountains.  The 
haggard  looks  and  rtaked  condition  of  these  men 
proved  how  much  they  had  suffered.  After  leav- 
ing Mr.  Hunt's  party,  they  had  made  their  way 
about  two  hundred  miles  to  the  southward,  where 
they  trapped  beaver  on  a  river,  which,  according 
to  their  account,  discharged  itself  into  the  ocean 
to  the  south  of  the  Columbia,  but  which  we  appre- 
hend to  be  Bear  River,  a  stream  emptying  itself 
into  Lake  Bonneville,  an  immense  body  of  salt 
water,  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Having  collected  a  considerable  quantity  of 
beaver  skins,  they  made  them  into  packs,  loaded 
their  horses,  and  steered  two  hundred  miles  due 
east.  Here  they  came  upon  an  encampment  of 
sixty  lodges  of  Arapahays,  an  outlawed  band  of 
the  Arapahoes,  and  notorious  robbers.  These 
fell  upon  the  poor  trappers  ;  robbed  them  of  their 
peltries,  most  of  their  clothing,  and  several  of 
their  horses.  They  were  glad  to  escape  with  their 
lives,  and  without  being  entirely  stripped,  and 
after  proceeding  about  fifty  miles  further,  made 
their  halt  for  the  winter. 

Early  in  the  spring  they  resumed  their  wayfar- 
ing, but  were  unluckily  overtaken  by  the  same 
ruffian  horde,  who  levied  still  lurther  contribu- 
tions, and  carried  off  the  remainder  of  their 
horses,  excepting  two.  With  these  they  contin- 
ued on,  suffering  the  greatest  hardships.  They 
still  retained  rifles  and  ammunition,  but  were  in 
a  desert  coun'try,  where  neither  bird  nor  beast 
was  to  be  found.  Their  only  chance  was  to  keep 
along  the  rivers  and  subsist  by  fishing  ;  but,  at 
times,  no  fish  were  to  be  taken,  and  then  their  suf- 
ferings were  horrible.  One  of  their  horses  was 
stolen  among  the  mountains  by  the  Snake  In- 
dians ;  the  other,  they  said,  was  carried  off  by 
Cass,  who,  according  to  their  account,  "  villain- 
ously left  them  in  their  extremities."  Certain 
dark  doubts  and  surmises  were  afterward  circu- 
lated concerning  the  fate  of  that  poor  fellow, 
which,  if  true,  showed  to  what  a  desperate  state 
of  famine  his  comrades  had  been  reduced. 

Being  now  completely  unhorsed,  Mr.  Miller  and 
his  three  companions  wandered  on  foot  for  several 
hundred  miles,  enduring  hunger,  thirst,  and  fa- 
tigue, while  traversing  the  barren  wastes  which 
abound  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains.  At  the 
time  they  were  discovered  by  Mr.  Stuart's  party, 
they  were  almost  famished,  and  were  fishing  for 
a  precarious  meal.  Had  Mr.  Stuart  made  the  short 


cut  across  the  hills,  avoiding  this  bend  of  the 
river,  or  had  not  some  of  his  party  accidentally 
gone  down  to  the  margin  of  the  stream  to  drink, 
these  poor  wanderers  might  have  remained  un- 
discovered, and  have  perished  in  the  wilderness. 
Nothing  could  exceed  their  joy  on  thus  meeting 
with  their  old  comrades,  or  the  heartiness  with 
which  they  were  welcomed.  All  hands  imme- 
diately encamped  ;  and  the  slender  stores  of  the 
party  were  ransacked  to  furnish  out  a  suitable  re- 
gale. 

The  next  morning  they  all  set  out  together  ; 
Mr.  Miller  and  his  comrades  being  resolved  to 
give  up  the  life  of  a  trapper,  and  accompany  Mr. 
Stuart  back  to  St.  Louis. 

For  several  days  they  kept  along  the  course  of 
Snake  River,  occasionally  making  short  cuts 
across  hills  and  promontories,  where  there  were 
bends  in  the  stream.  In  their  way  they  passed 
several  camps  of  Shoshonies,  from  some  of  whom 
they  procured  salmon,  but  in  general  they  were 
too  wretchedly  poor  to  furnish  anything.  It  was 
the  wish  of  Mr.  Stuart  to  purchase  horses  for  the 
recent  recruits  of  his  party  ;  but  the  Indians  could 
not  be  prevailed  upon  to  part  with  any,  alleging 
that  they  had  not  enough  for  their  own  use. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  they  reached  a  great 
fishing  place,  to  which  they  gave  the  name  of  the 
Salmon  Falls.  Here  there  is  a  perpendicular  fall 
of  twenty  feet  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  while 
on  the  south  side  there  is  a  succession  of  rapids. 
The  salmon  are  taken  here  in  incredible  quanti- 
ties, as  they  attempt  to  shoot  the  falls.  It  was 
now  a  favorable  season,  and  there  were  about  one 
hundred  lodges  of  Shoshonies  busily  engaged 
killing  and  drying  fish.  The  salmon  begin  to 
leap,  shortly  after  sunrise.  At  this  time  the  In- 
dians swim  to  the  centre  of  the  falls,  where  some 
station  themselves  on  rocks,  and  others  stand  to 
their  waists  in  the  water,  all  armed  with  spears, 
with  which  they  assail  the  salmon  as  they  attempt 
to  leap,  or  fall  back  exhausted.  It  is  an  incessant 
slaughter,  so  great  is  the  throng  of  the  fish. 

The  construction  of  the  spears  thus  used  is  pe- 
culiar. The  head  is  a  straight  piece  of  elk  horn, 
about  seven  inches  long  ;  on  the  point  of  which 
an  artificial  barb  is  made  fast,  with  twine  well 
gummed.  The  head  is  stuck  on  the  end  of  the 
shaft,  a  very  long  pole  of  willow,  to  which  it  is 
likewise  connected  by  a  strong  cord,  a  few  inches 
in  length.  When  the  spearsman  makes  a  sure 
blow,  he  often  strikes  the  head  of  the  spear  through 
the  body  of  the  fish.  It  comes  off  easily,  and 
leaves  the  salmon  struggling  with  the  string 
through  its  body,  while  the  pole  is  still  held  by 
the  spearsman.  Were  it  not  for  the  precaution  of 
the  string,  the  willow  shaft  would  be  snapped  by 
the  struggles  and  the  weight  of  the  fish.  Mr. 
Miller,  in  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  had  been 
at  these  falls,  and  had  seen  several  thousand  sal- 
mon taken  in  the  course  of  one  afternoon.  He 
declared  that  he  had  seen  a  salmon  leap  a  distance 
of  about  thirty  feet,  from  the  commencement  of 
the  foam  at  the  foot  of  the  fall,  completely  to  the 
top. 

Having  purchased  a  good  supply  of  salmon 
from  the  fishermen,  the  party  resumed  their  jour- 
ney, and  on  the  twenty-ninth,  arrived  at  the  Cal- 
dron Linn  ;  the  eventful  scene  of  the  preceding 
autumn.  Here,  the  first  thing  that  met  their  eyes, 
was  a  memento  of  the  perplexities  of  that  period  ; 
the  wreck  of  a  canoe  lodged  between  two  ledges 
of  rocks.  They  endeavored  to  get  down  to  it,  but 
the  river  banks  were  too  high  and  precipitous. 

They  now  proceeded  to  that  part  of  the  neigh- 


393 


ASTORIA. 


bornood  where  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party  had  made 
the  caches,  intending  to  take  from  them  such  arti- 
cles as  belonged  to  Mr.  Crooks,  M'Lellan,  and 
the  Canadians.  On  reaching  the  spot,  they  found, 
to  their  astonishment,  six  of  the  caches  open  and 
rifled  of  their  contents,  excepting  a  few  books 
which  lay  scattered  about  the  vicinity.  They  had 
the  appearance  of  having  been  plundered  in  the 
course  of  the  summer.  There  were  tracks  of 
wolves  in  every  direction,  to  and  from  the  holes, 
from  which  Mr.  Stuart  concluded  that  these  ani- 
mals had  first  been  attracted  to  the  place  by  the 
smell  of  the  skins  contained  in  the  caches,  which 
they  had  probably  torn  up,  and  that  their  tracks 
had  betrayed  the  secret  to  the  Indians. 

The  three  remaining  caches  had  not  been  mo- 
lested :  they  contained  a  few  dry  goods,  some  am- 
munition, and  a  number  oi  beaver  traps.  From 
these  Mr.  Stuart  took  whatever  was  requisite  for 
his  party  ;  he  then  deposited  within  them  all  his 
superfluous  baggage,  and  all  the  books  and  pa- 
pers scattered  around  ;  the  holes  were  then  care- 
fully closed  up,  and  all  traces  of  them  effaced. 
And  here  we  have  to  record  another  instance  of 
the  indomitable  spirit  of  the  western  trappers. 
No  sooner  did  the  trio  of  Kentucky  hunters, 
Robinson,  Rezner,  and  Hoback,  find  that  they 
could  once  more  be  fitted  out  for  a  campaign 
of  beaver-trapping,  than  they  forgot  all  that  they 
had  suffered,  and  determined  upon  another  trial 
of  their  fortunes  ;  preferring  to  take  their  chance 
in  the  wilderness,  rather  than  return  home  ragged 
and  penniless.  As  to  Mr.  Miller,  he  declared  his 
curiosity  and  his  desire  of  travelling  through  the 
Indian  countries  fully  satisfied  ;  he  adhered  to  his 
determination,  therefore,  to  keep  on  with  the  party 
to  St.  Louis,  and  to  return  to  the  bosom  of  civi- 
lized society. 

The  three  hunters,  therefore,  Robinson,  Rezner, 
and  Hoback,  were  furnished  as  far  as  the  caches 
and  the  means  of  Mr.  Stuart's  party  afforded, 
with  the  requisite  munitions  and  equipments  for  a 
"  two  years'  hunt  ;"  but  as  their  fitting  out  was 
yet  incomplete,  they  resolved  to  wait  in  this 
neighborhood  until  Mr.  Reed  should  arrive  ; 
whose  arrival  might  soon  be  expected,  as  he  was 
to  set  out  for  the  caches  about  twenty  days  after 
Mr.  Stuart  parted  with  him  at  the  Wallah-Wallah 
River. 

Mr.  Stuart  gave  in  charge  to  Robinson  a  letter 
to  Mr.  Reed,  reporting  his  safe  journey  thus  far, 
and  the  state  in  which  he  had  found  the  caches, 
A  duplicate  of  this  letter  he  elevated  on  a  pole, 
and  set  it  up  near  the  place  of  deposit. 

All  things  being  thus  arranged,  Mr.  Stuart  and 
his  little  band,  now  seven  in  number,  took  leave 
of  the  three  hardy  trappers,  wishing  them  all  pos- 
sible success  in  their  lonely  and  perilous  sojourn 
in  the  wilderness  ;  and  we,  in  like  manner,  shall 
leave  them  to  their  fortunes,  promising  to  take 
them  up  again  at  some  future  page,  and  to  close 
the  story  of  their  persevering  and  ill-fated  enter- 
prise. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

Ox  the  ist  of  September,  Mr.  Stuart  and  his 
companions  resumed  their  journey,  bending  their 
course  eastward,  along  the  course  of  Snake  River. 
As  they  advanced  the  country  opened.  The  hills 
which  had  hemmed  in  the  river  receded  on  either 
hand,  and  great  sandy  and  dusty  plains  extended 
before  them.  Occasionally  there  were  intervals 
of  pastorage,  and  the  banks  of  the  river  were 


fringed  with  willows  and  cotton-wood,  so  that  its 
course  might  be  traced  from  the  hill-tops,  winding 
under  an  umbrageous  covert,  through  a  wide  sun- 
burnt landscape.  The  soil,  however,  was  gene- 
rally poor  ;  there  was  in  some  places  a  miserable 
growth  of  wormwood,  and  a  plant  called  salt- 
weed,  resembling  pennyroyal  ;  but  the  summer 
heat  had  parched  the  plains,  and  left  but  little 
pasturage.  The  game  too  had  disappeared.  The 
hunter  looked  in  vain  over  the  liefeless  landscape  ; 
now  and  then  a  few  antelope  might  be  seen,  but 
not  within  reach  of  the  rifle.  We  forbear  to  fol- 
low the  travellers  in  a  week's  wandering  over 
these  barren  wastes,  where  they  suffered  much 
from  hunger  ;  having  to  depend  upon  a  few  fish 
from  the  streams,  and  now  and  then  a  little  dried 
salmon,  or  a  dog,  procured  from  some  forlorn 
lodge  of  the  Shoshonies. 

Tired  of  these  cheerless  wastes,  they  left  the 
banks  of  Snake  River  on  the  yth  of  September, 
under  guidance  of  Mr.  Miller,  who  having  ac- 
quired some  knowledge  of  the  country  during  his 
trapping  campaign,  undertook  to  conduct  them 
across  the  mountains  by  a  better  route  than  that 
by  Fort  Henry,  and  one  more  out  of  the  range  of 
the  Blackfeet.  He  proved,  however;  but  an  in- 
different guide,  and  they  soon  became  bewildered 
among  rugged  hills  and  unknown  streams,  and 
burnt  and  barren  prairies. 

At  length  they  came  to  a  river  on  which  Mr. 
Miller  had  trapped,  and  to  which  they  gave  his 
name  ;  though,  as  before  observed,  we  presume 
it  to  be  the  same  called  Bear  River,  which  empties 
itself  into  Lake  Bonneville.  Up  this  river  and  its 
branches  they  kept  for  two  or  three  days,  support- 
ing themselves  precariously  upon  fish.  They  soon 
found  that  they  were  in  a  dangerous  neighbor- 
hood. On  the  1 2th  of  September,  having  en- 
camped early,  they  sallied  forth  with  their  rods  to 
angle  for  their  supper.  On  returning,  they  be- 
held a  number  of  Indians  prowling  about  their 
camp,  whom,  to  their  infinite  disquiet,  they  soon 
perceived  to  be  Upsarokas,  or  Crows.  Their 
chief  came  forward  with  a  confident  air.  He 
was  a  dark  herculean  fellow,  full  six  feet  four 
inches  in  height,  with  a  mingled  air  of  the  ruffian 
and  the  rogue.  He  conducted  himself  peaceably, 
however,  and  dispatched  some  of  his  people  to 
their  camp,  which  was  somewhere  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, from  whence  they  returned  with  a  most 
acceptable  supply  of  buffalo  meat.  He  now  signi- 
fied to  Mr.  Stuart  that  he  was  going  to  trade  with 
the  Snakes  who  reside  on  the  west  base  of  the 
mountains  below  Henry's  Fort.  Here  they  culti- 
vate a  delicate  kind  of  tobacco,  much  esteemed 
and  sought  after  by  the  mountain  tribes.  There 
was  something  sinister,  however,  in  the  look  of 
this  Indian,  that  inspired  distrust.  By  degrees, 
the  number  of  his  people  increased,  until,  by  mid- 
night, there  were  twenty-one  of  them  about  the 
camp,  who  began  to  be  impudent  and  trouble- 
some. The  greatest  uneasiness  was  now  felt  for 
the  safety  of  the  horses  and  effects,  and  every  one 
kept  vigilant  watch  throughout  the  night. 

The  morning  dawned,  however,  without  any  un- 
pleasant occurrence,  and  Mr.  Stuart,  having  pur- 
chased all  the  buffalo  meat  that  the  Crows  had  to 
spare,  prepared  to  depart.  His  Indian  acquaint- 
ance, however,  were  disposed  for  further  dealings  ; 
and  above  all,  anxious  for  a  supply  of  gunpowder, 
for  which  they  offered  horses  in  exchange.  Mr. 
Stuart  declined  to  furnish  them  with  the  danger- 
ous commodity.  They  became  more  importunate 
in  their  solicitations,  until  they  met  with  a  flat  re- 
fusal. 


ASTORIA. 


399 


The  gigantic  chief  now  stepped  forward,  as- 
sumed a  swelling  air,  and,  slapping  himself  upon 
the  breast  gave  Mr.  Crooks  to  understand  that  he 
was  a  chief  of  great  power  and  importance.  He 
signified  further  that  it  was  customary  for  great 
chiefs  when  they  met,  to  make  each  other  pres- 
ents. He  requested,  therefore,  that  Mr.  Stuart 
would  alight,  and  give  him  the  horse  upon  which 
he  was  mounted.  This  was  a  noble  animal,  of 
one  of  the  wild  races  of  the  prairies  ;  on  which 
Mr.  Stuart  set  great  value  ;  he  of  course  shook  his 
head  at  the  request  of  the  Crow  dignitary.  Upon 
this  the  latter  strode  up  to  him,  and  taking  hold 
of  him,  moved  him  backward  and  forward  in  his 
saddle,  as  if  to  make  him  feel  that  he  was  a  mere 
child  within  his  grasp.  Mr.  Stuart  preserved  his 
calmness  and  still  shook  his  head.  The  chief  then 
seized  the  bridle  and  gave  it  a  jerk  that  startled 
the  horse,  and  nearly  brought  the  rider  to  the 
ground.  Mr.  Stuart  instantly  drew  forth  a  pistol 
and  presented  it  at  the  head  of  the  bully- ruffian. 
In  a  twinkling,  his  swaggering  was  at  an  end,  and 
he  dodged  behind  his  horse  to  escape  the  expected 
shot.  As  his  subject  Crows  gazed  on  the  affray 
from  a  little  distance,  Mr.  Stuart  ordered  his  men  to 
level  their  rifles  at  them,  but  not  to  fire.  The  whole 
crew  scampered  among  the  bushes,  and  throwing 
themselves  upon  the  ground,  vanished  from  sight. 

The  chieftain  thus  left  alone,  was  confounded 
for  an  instant  ;  but  recovering  himself,  with  true 
Indian  shrewdness,  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and 
affected  to  turn  off  the  whole  matter  as  a  piece  of 
pleasantry.  Mr.  Stuart  by  no  means  relished 
such  equivocal  joking,  but  it  was  not  his  policy  to 
get  into  a  quarrel  ;  so  he  joined  with  the  best 
grace  he  could  assume,  in  the  merriment  of  the  joc- 
ular giant  ;  and,  to  console  the  latter  for  the  re- 
fusal of  the  horse,  made  him  a  present  of  twenty 
charges  of  powder.  They  parted,  according  to 
all  outward  professions,  the  best  friends  in  the 
world  ;  it  was  evident,  however,  that  nothing  but 
the  smallness  of  his  own  force,  and  the  martial 
array  and  alertness  of  the  white  men,  had  pre- 
vented the  Crow  chief  from  proceeding  to  open 
outrage.  As  it  was,  his  worthy  followers,  in  the 
course  of  their  brief  interview,  had  contrived  to 
purloin  a  bag  containing  almost  all  the  culinary 
utensils  of  the  party. 

The  travellers  kept  on  their  way  due  east,  over 
a  chain  of  hills.  The  recent  rencontre  showed 
them  that  they  were  now  in  a  land  of  danger, 
subject  to  the  wide  roamings  of  a  predacious 
tribe  ;  nor  in  fact,  had  they  gone  many  miles  be- 
fore they  beheld  such  sights  calculated  to  inspire 
anxiety  and  alarm.  From  the  summits  of  some 
of  the  loftiest  mountains,  in  different  directions, 
columns  of  smoke  began  to  rise.  These  they  con- 
cluded to  be  signals  made  by  the  runners  of  the 
Crow  chieftain  to  summon  the  stragglers  of  his 
band,  so  as  to  pursue  them  with  greater  force. 
Signals  of  this  kind,  made  by  outrunners  from  one 
central  point,  will  rouse  a  wide  circuit  of  the 
mountains  in  a  wonderfully  short  space  of  time  ; 
and  bring  the  straggling  hunters  and  warriors  to 
the  standard  of  their  chieftain. 

To  keep  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  way  of 
these  freebooters,  Mr.  Stuart  altered  his  course  to 
the  north,  and,  quitting  the  main  stream  of  Mil- 
ler's River  kept  up  a  large  branch  that  came  in 
from  the  mountains.  Here  they  encamped  after 
a  fatiguing  march  of  twenty-five  miles.  As  the 
night  drew  on,  the  horses  were  hobbled  or  tether- 
ed, and  tethered  close  to  the  camp  ;  a  vigilant 
watch  was  maintained  until  morning  and  every 
one  slept  with  his  rifle  on  his  arm. 


At  sunrise,  they  were  again  on  the  march,  still 
keeping  to  the  north.  They  soon  began  to  ascend 
the  mountains,  and  occasionally  had  wide  pros- 
pects over  the  surrounding  country.  Not  a  sign 
of  a  Crow  was  to  be  seen  ;  but  this  did  not  assure 
them  of  their  security,  well  knowing  the  persever- 
ance of  these  savages  in  dogging  any  party  they 
intend  to  rob,  and  the  stealthy  way  in  which  they 
can  conceal  their  movements,  keeping  along  ra- 
vines and  defiles.  After  a  mountain  scramble  of 
twenty-one  miles  they  encamped  on  the  margin 
of  a  stream  running  to  the  north. 

In  the  evening  there  was  an  alarm  of  Indians 
and  every  one  was  instantly  on  the  alert.  They 
proved  to  be  three  miserable  Snakes,  who  were 
no  sooner  informed  that  a  band  of  Crows  was 
prowling  in  the  neighborhood,  than  they  made  off 
with  great  signs  of  consternation. 

A  couple  more  of  weary  days  and  watchful 
nights  brought  them  to  a  strong  and  rapid  stream, 
running  due  north,  which  they  concluded  to  be 
one  of  the  upper  branches  of  Snake  River.  It  was 
probably  the  same  since  called  Salt  River.  They 
determined  to  bend  their  course  down  this  river, 
as  it  would  take  them  still  further  out  of  the  dan- 
gerous neighborhood  of  the  Crows.  They  then 
would  strike  upon  Mr.  Hunt's  track  of  the  preced- 
ing autumn,  and  retrace  it  across  the  mountains. 
The  attempt  to  find  a  better  route  under  guid- 
ance of  Mr.  Miller  had  cost  them  a  large  bend  to 
the  south  ;  in  resuming  Mr.  Hunt's  track,  they 
would  at  least  be  sure  of  their  road.  They  ac- 
cordingly turned  down  along  the  course  of  this 
stream,  and  at  the  end  of  three  days'  journey, 
came  to  where  it  was  joined  by  a  larger  river, 
and  assumed  a  more  impetuous  character,  raging 
and  roaring  among  rocks  and  precipices.  It 
proved,  in  fact,  to  be  Mad  River,  already  noted 
in  the  expedition  of  Mr.  Hunt.  On  the  banks  of 
this  river  they  encamped  on  the  iSth  of  Septem- 
ber, at  an  early  hour. 

Six  days  had  now  elapsed  since  their  interview 
with  the  Crows  ;  during  that  time  they  had  come 
nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  the  north  and 
west,  without  seeing  any  signs  of  those  maraud- 
ers. They  considered  themselves,  therefore,  be- 
yond the  reach  of  molestation,  and  began  to  relax 
in  their  vigilance,  lingering  occasionally  for  part 
of  a  day,  where  there  was  good  pasturage.  The 
poor  horses  needed  repose.  They  had  been  urged 
on,  by  forced  marches,  over  rugged  heights, 
among  rocks  and  fallen  timber,  or  over  low 
swampy  valleys,  inundated  by  the  labors  of  the 
beaver.  These  industrious  animals  abounded  in 
all  the  mountain  streams,  and  water  courses, 
wherever  there  were  willows  for  their  subsistence. 
Many  of  them  they  had  so  completely  dammed 
up  as  to  inundate  the  low  grounds,  making  shallow 
pools  or  lakes,  and  extensive  quagmires  ;  by 
which  the  route  of  the  travellers  was  often  impeded. 

On  the  i gth  of  September,  they  rose  at  early 
dawn  ;  some  began  to  prepare  breakfast,  and 
others  to  arrange  the  packs  preparatory  to  a 
march.  The  horses  had  been  hobbled,  but  left  at 
large  to  graze  upon  the  adjacent  pasture.  Mr. 
Stuart  was  on  the  bank  of  a  river,  at  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  camp,  when  he  heard  the  alarm 
cry — "  Indians  !  Indians  ! — to  arms  !  to  arms  !" 

A  mounted  Crow  galloped  past  the  camp,  bear- 
ing a  red  flag.  He  reined  his  steed  on  the  summit 
of  a  neighboring  knoll,  and  waved  his  flaring  ban- 
ner.  A  diabolical  yell  now  broke  forth  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  camp,  beyond  where  the 
horses  were  grazing,  and  a  small  troop  of  savages 
came  galloping  up,  whooping  and  making  a  ter- 


400 


ASTORIA. 


rific  clamor.  The  horses  took  fright,  and  dashed 
across  the  camp  in  the  direction  of  the  standard- 
bearer,  attracted  by  his  waving  flag.  He  in- 
stantly put  spurs  to  his  steed,  and  scoured  off,  fol- 
lowed by  the  panic-stricken  herd,  their  flight  be- 
ing increased  by  the  yells  of  the  savages  in  their 
rear. 

At  the  first  alarm  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  com- 
rades had  seized  their  rifles,  and  attempted  to  cut 
off  the  Indians,  who  were  pursuing  the  horses. 
Their  attention  was  instantly  distracted  by 
whoops  and  yells  in  an  opposite  direction.  They 
now  apprehended  that  a  reserve  party  was  about 
to  carry  off  their  baggage.  They  ran  to  secure 
it.  The  reserve  party,  however,  galloped  by, 
whooping  and  yelling  in  triumph  and  derision. 
The  last  of  them  proved  to  be  their  commander, 
the  identical  giant  joker  already  mentioned.  He 
was  not  cast  in  the  stern  poetical  mould  of  fash- 
ionable Indian  heroism,  but  on  the  contrary,  was 
grievously  given  to  vulgar  jocularity.  As  he  passed 
Mr.  Stuart  and  his  companions,  he  checked  his 
horse,  raised  himself  in  the  saddle,  and  clapping 
his  hand  on  the  most  insulting  part  of  his  body,  ut- 
tered some  jeering  words,  which,  fortunately  for 
their  delicacy,  they  could  not  understand.  The 
rifle  of  Ben  Jones  was  levelled  in  an  instant,  and 
he  was  on  the  point  of  whizzing  a  bullet  into  the 
target  so  tauntingly  displayed.  "Not  for  your 
life  !  not  for  your  life  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stuart, 
"  you  will  bring  destruction  on  us  all  !" 

It  was  hard  to  restrain  honest  Ben,  when  the 
mark  was  so  fair  and  the  insult  so  foul.  "  Oh, 
Mr.  Stuart,"  exclaimed  he,  "  only  let  me  have  one 
crack  at  the  infernal  rascal,  and  you  may  keep  all 
the  pay  that  is  due  to  me." 

"  By  heaven,  if  you  fire,"  cried  Mr.  Stuart, 
"  I'll  blow  your  brains  out." 

By  this  time  the  Indian  was  far  out  of  reach, 
and  had  rejoined  his  men,  and  the  whole  dare- 
devil band,  with  the  captured  horses,  scuttled  off 
along  the  defiles,  their  red  flag  flaunting  over 
head,  and  the  rocks  echoing  to  their  whoops  and 
yells,  and  demoniac  laughter. 

The  unhorsed  travellers  gazed  after  them  in 
silent  mortification  and  despair  ;  yet  Mr.  Stuart 
could  not  but  admire  the  style  and  spirit  with 
which  the  whole  exploit  had  been  managed,  and 
pronounced  it  one  of  the  most  daring  and  intrepid 
actions  he  had  ever  heard  of  among  Indians. 
The  whole  number  of  the  Crows  did  not  exceed 
twenty.  In  this  way  a  small  gang  of  lurkers  will 
hurry  off  the  cavalry  of  a  large  war  party,  for 
when  once  a  drove  of  horse  are  seized  with  a 
panic,  they  become  frantic,  and  nothing  short  of 
broken  necks  can  stop  them. 

No  one  was  more  annoyed  by  this  unfortunate 
occurrence  than  Ben  Jones.  He  declared  he  would 
actually  have  given  his  whole  arrears  of  pay, 
amounting  to  upward  of  a  year's  wages,  rather 
than  be  balked  of  such  a  capital  shot.  Mr. 
Stuart,  however,  represented  what  might  have 
been  the  consequence  of  so  rash  an  act.  Life  for 
life  is  the  Indian  maxim.  The  whole  tribe  would 
have  made  common  cause  in  avenging  the  death 
of  a  warrior.  The  party  were  but  seven  dismount- 
ed men,  with  a  wide  mountain  region  to  traverse, 
infested  by  these  people,  and  which  might  all  be 
roused  by  signal  fires.  In  fact,  the  conduct  of 
the  band  of  marauders  in  question,  showed  the 
perseverance  of  savages  when  once  they  have  fixed 
their  minds  upon  a  project.  These  fellows  had 
evidently  been  silently  and  secretly  dogging  the 
party  for  a  week  past,  and  a  distance  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  miles,  keeping  out  of  sight  by  day, 


lurking  about  the  encampment  at  night,  watching 
all  their  movements,  and  waiting  for  a  favorable 
moment  when  they  should  be  off  their  guard. 
The  menace  of  Mr.  Stuart,  in  their  first  interview, 
to  shoot  the  giant  chief  with  his  pistol,  and  the 
fright  caused  among  the  warriors  by  presenting 
the  rifles,  had  probably  added  the  stimulus  of  pique 
to  their  usual  horse-stealing  propensities,  and  in 
this  mood  of  mind  they  would  doubtless  have  fol- 
lowed the  party  throughout  their  whole  course 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains,  rather  than  be  disap- 
pointed in  their  scheme. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

FEW  reverses  in  this  changeful  world  are  more 
complete  and  disheartening  than  that  of  a  travel- 
ler, suddenly  unhorsed,  in  the  midst  of  the  wilder- 
ness. Our  unfortunate  travellers  contemplated 
their  situation,  for  a  time,  in  perfect  dismay.  A 
long  journey  over  rugged  mountains  and  immeas- 
urable plains  lay  before  them,  which  they  must 
painfully  perform  on  foot,  and  everything  neces- 
sary for  subsistence  or  defence  must  be  carried 
on  their  shoulders.  Their  dismay,  however,  was 
but  transient,  and  they  immediately  set  to  work, 
with  that  prompt  expediency  produced  by  the  ex- 
igencies of  the  wilderness,  to  fit  themselves  for  the 
change  in  their  condition. 

Their  first  attention  was  to  select  from  their  bag- 
gage such  articles  as  were  indispensable  to  their 
journey  ;  to  make  them  up  into  convenient  packs, 
and  to  deposit  the  residue  in  caches.  The  whole 
day  was  consumed  in  these  occupations  ;  at  night 
they  made  a  scanty  meal  of  their  remaining  pro- 
visions, and  lay  down  to  sleep  with  heavy  hearts. 
In  the  morning,  they  were  up  and  about  at  an 
early  hour,  and  began  to  prepare  their  knapsacks 
for  a  march,  while  Ben  Jones  repaired  to  an  old 
beaver  trap  which  he  had  set  in  the  river  bank  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  camp.  He  was  re- 
joiced to  find  a  middle-sized  beaver  there,  sufficient 
lor  a  morning's  meal  to  his  hungry  comrades. 
On  his  way  back  with  his  prize,  he  observed  two 
heads  peering  over  the  edge  of  an  impending  cliff, 
several  hundred  feet  high,  which  he  supposed  to 
be  a  couple  of  wolves.  As  he  continued  on,  he 
now  and  then  cast  his  eye  up  ;  the  heads  were 
still  there,  looking  down  with  fixed  and  watchful 
gaze.  A  suspicion  now  flashed  across  his  mind 
that  they  might  be  Indian  scouts  ;  and  had  they 
not  been  far  above  the  reach  of  his  rifle,  he  would 
undoubtedly  have  regaled  them  with  a  shot. 

On  arriving  at  the  camp,  he  directed  the  atten- 
tion of  his  comrades  to  these  aerial  observers. 
The  same  idea  was  at  first  entertained,  that  they 
were  wolves  ;  but  their  immovable  watchfulness 
soon  satisfied  every  one  that  they  were  Indians.  It 
was  concluded  that  they  were  watching  the  move- 
ments of  the  party,  to  discover  their  place  of  con- 
cealment of  such  articles  as  they  would  be  compel- 
led to  leave  behind.  There  was  no  likelihood  that 
the  caches  would  escape  the  search  of  such  keen 
eyes  and  experienced  rummagers,  and  the  idea  was 
intolerable  that  any  more  booty  should  fall  into 
their  hands.  To  disappoint  them,  therefore,  the 
travellers  stripped  the  caches  of  the  articles  depos- 
ited there,  and  collecting  together  everything  that 
they  could  not  carry  away  with  them,  made  a 
bonfire  of  all  that  would  burn,  and  threw  the  rest 
into  the  river.  There  was  a  forlorn  satisfaction  in 
thus  balking  the  Crows,  by  the  destruction  of  their 
own  property  ;  and,  having  thus  gratified  their 


ASTORIA. 


401 


pique,  they  shouldered  their  packs,  about  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  set  out  on  their  pe- 
destrian wayfaring. 

The  route  they  took  was  down  along  the  banks 
of  Mad  River.  This  stream  makes  its  way  through 
the  denies  of  the  mountains,  into  the  plain  below 
Fort  Henry,  where  it  terminates  in  Snake  River. 
Mr.  Stuart  was  in  hopes  of  meeting  with  Snake 
encampments  in  the  plain,  where  he  might  pro- 
cure a  couple  of  horses  to  transport  the  baggage. 
In  such  case,  he  intended  to  resume  his  eastern 
course  across  the  mountains,  and  endeavor  to 
reach  the  Cheyenne  River  before  winter.  Should 
he  fail,  however,  of  obtaining  horses,  he  would 
probably  be  compelled  to  winter  on  the  Pacific 
side  of  the  mountains,  somewhere  on  the  head 
waters  of  the  Spanish  or  Colorado  River. 

With  all  the  care  that  had  been  observed  in 
taking  nothing  with  them  that  was  not  absolutely 
necessary,  the  poor  pedestrians  were  heavily  la- 
den, and  their  burdens  added  to  the  fatigue  of 
their  rugged  road.  They  suffered  much,  too,  from 
hunger.  The  trout  they  caught  were  too  poor  to 
yield  much  nourishment ;  their  main  dependence, 
therefore,  was  upon  an  old  beaver  trap,  which  they 
had  providentially  retained.  Whenever  they  were 
fortunate  enough  to  entrap  a  beaver,  it  was  cut  up 
immediately  and  distributed,  that  each  man 
might  carry  his  share. 

After  two  days  of  toilsome  travel,  during  which 
they  made  but  eighteen  miles,  they  stopped  on 
the  2 1st  to  build  two  rafts  on  which  to  cross  to 
the  north  side  of  the  river.  On  these  they  em- 
barked on  the  following  morning,  four  on  one 
raft,  and  three  on  the  other,  and  pushed  boldly 
from  shore.  Finding  the  rafts  sufficiently  firm 
and  steady  to  withstand  the  rough  and  rapid 
water,  they  changed  their  minds,  and  instead  of 
crossing,  ventured  to  float  down  with  the  current. 
The  river  was  in  general  very  rapid,  and  from  one 
to  two  hundred  yards  in  width,  winding  in  every 
direction  through  mountains  of  hard  black  rock, 
covered  with  pines  and  cedars.  The  mountains 
to  the  east  of  the  river  were  spurs  of  the  Rocky 
range,  and  of  great  magnitude  ;  those  on  the 
west  were  little  better  than  hills,  bleak  and  bar- 
ren, or  scantily  clothed  with  stunted  grass. 

Mad  River,  though  deserving  its  name  from  the 
impetuosity  of  its  current,  was  free  from  rapids 
and  cascades,  and  flowed  on  in  a  single  channel 
between  gravel  banks,  often  fringed  with  cotton- 
wood  and  dwarf  willows  in  abundance.  These 
gave  sustenance  to  immense  quantities  of  beaver, 
so  that  the  voyageurs  found  no  difficulty  in  pro- 
curing food.  Ben  Jones,  also,  killed  a  fallow 
deer  and  a  wolverine,  and  as  they  were  enabled 
to  carry  the  carcasses  on  their  rafts, their  larder 
was  well  supplied.  Indeed  they  might  have  oc- 
casionally shot  beavers  that  were  swimming  in 
the  river  as  they  floated  by,  but  they  humanely 
spared  their  lives,  being  in  no  want  of  meat  at  the 
time.  In  this  way  they  kept  down  the  river  for 
three  days,  drifting  with  the  current  and  encamp- 
ing on  land  at  night,  when  they  drew  up  their  rafts 
on  shore.  Toward  the  evening  of  the  third  day, 
they  came  to  a  little  island  on  which  they  descried 
a  gang  of  elk.  Ben  Jones  landed,  and  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  wound  one,  which  immediately 
took  to  the  water,  but,  being  unable  to  stem  the 
current,  drifted  above  a  mile,  when  it  was  over- 
taken and  drawn  to  shore.  As  a  storm  was  gath- 
ering, they  now  encamped  on  the  margin  of  the 
river,  where  they  remained  all  the  next  day,  shel- 
tering themselves  as  well  as  they  could  from  the 
rain,  and  hail,  and  snow,  a  sharp  foretaste  of  the 


impending  winter.  During  their  encampment  they 
employed  themselves  in  jerking  a  part  of  the  elk 
for  future  supply.  In  cutting  up  the  carcass  they 
found  that  the  animal  had  been  wounded  by 
hunters,  about  a  week  previously,  an  arrow  head 
and  a  musket  ball  remaining  in  the  wounds.  In 
the  wilderness  every  trivial  circumstance  is  a 
matter  of  anxious  speculation.  The  Snake  In- 
dians  have  no  guns  ;  the  elk,  therefore,  could  not 
have  been  wounded  by  one  of  them.  They  were 
on  the  borders  of  the  country  infested  by  the 
Blackteet,  who  carry  firearms.  It  was  concluded, 
therefore,  that  the  elk  had  been  hunted  by  some 
of  that  wandering  and  hostile  tribe,  who,  of 
course,  must  be  in  the  neighborhood.  The  idea 
put  an  end  to  the  transient  solace  they  had  en- 
joyed in  the  comparative  repose  and  abundance 
of  the  river. 

For  three  days  longer  they  continued  to  navigate 
with  their  rafts.  The  recent  storm  had  rendered 
the  weather  extremely  cold.  They  had  now 
floated  down  the  river  about  ninety-one  miles, 
when,  finding  the  mountains  on  the  right  dimin- 
ished to  moderate  sized  hills,  they  landed,  and 
prepared  to  resume  their  journey  on  foot.  Ac- 
cordingly, having  spent  a  day  in  preparations, 
making  moccasons,  and  parcelling  out  their  jerk- 
ed meat  in  packs  of  twenty  pounds  to  each  man, 
they  turned  their  backs  upon  the  river  on  the 
agth  of  September,  and  struck  off  to  the  north- 
east ;  keeping  along  the  southern  skirt  of  the 
mountain  on  which  Henry's  Fort  was  situated. 

Their  march  was  slow  and  toilsome  ;  part  of 
the  time  through  an  alluvial  bottom,  thickly 
grown  with  cotton-wood,  hawthorn,  and  willows, 
and  part  of  the  time  over  rough  hills.  Three  ante- 
lopes came  within  shot,  but  they  dared  not  fire  at 
them,  lest  the  report  of  their  rifles  should  betray 
them  to  the  Blackfeet.  In  the  course  of  the  day 
they  came  upon  a  large  horse-track,  apparently 
about  three  weeks  old,  and  in  the  evening  en- 
camped on  the  banks  of  a  small  stream,  on  a  spot 
which  had  been  the  camping  place  of  this  same 
band. 

On  the  following  morning  they  still  observed 
the  Indian  track,  but  after  a  time  they  came  to 
where  it  separated  in  every  direction,  and  was 
lost.  This  showed  that  the  band  had  dispersed  in 
various  hunting  parties,  and  was,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, still  in  the  neighborhood  ;  it  was  necessary, 
therefore,  to  proceed  with  the  utmost  caution. 
They  kept  a  vigilant  eye  as  they  marched,  upon 
every  height  where  a  scout  might  be  posted,  and 
scanned  the  solitary  landscape  and  the  distant  ra- 
vines, to  observe  any  column  of  smoke  ;  but  noth- 
ing of  the  kind  was  to  be  seen  ;  all  was  indescrib- 
ably stern  and  lifeless. 

Toward  evening  they  came  to  where  there  were 
several  hot  springs,  strongly  impregnated  with 
iron  and  sulphur,  and  sending  up  a  volume  of  va- 
por that  tainted  the  surrounding  atmosphere,  and 
might  be  seen  at  the  distance  of  a  couple  of  miles. 

Near  to  these  they  encamped  in  a  deep  gully, 
which  afforded  some  concealment.  To  their 
great  concern,  Mr.  Crooks,  who  had  been  indis- 
posed for  the  two  preceding  days,  had  a  violent 
fever  in  the  night. 

Shortly  after  daybreak  they  resumed  their 
march.  On  emerging  from  the  glen  a  consulta- 
tion was  held  as  to  their  course.  Should  they 
continue  round  the  skirt  of  the  mountain,  they 
would  be  in  danger  of  falling  in  with  the  scatter- 
ed parties  of  Blackfeet,  who  were  probably  hunt- 
ing in  the  plain.  It  was  thought  most  advisable, 
therefore,  to  strike  directly  across  the  mountain, 


402 


ASTORIA. 


since  the  route,  though  rugged  and  difficult, 
would  be  most  secure.  This  counsel  was  indig- 
nantly derided  by  M'Lellan  as  pusillanimous. 
Hot-headed  and  impatient  at  all  times,  he  had 
been  rendered  irascible  by  the  fatigues  of  the 
journey,  and  the  condition  of  his  feet,  which  were 
chafed  and  sore.  He  could  not  endure  the  idea 
of  encountering  the  difficulties  of  the  mountain, 
and  swore  he  would  rather  face  all  the  Blackfeet 
in  the  country.  He  was  overruled,  however,  and 
the  party  began  to  ascend  the  mountain,  striving, 
with  the  ardor  and  emulation  of  young  men,  who 
should  be  first  up.  M'Lellan,  who  was  double  the 
age  of  some  of  his  companions,  soon  began  to 
lose  breath,  and  fall  in  the  rear.  In  the  distribu- 
tion of  burdens,  it  was  his  turn  to  carry  the  old 
beaver  trap.  Piqued  and  irritated,  he  suddenly 
came  to  a  halt,  swore  he  would  carry  it  no  further, 
and  jerked  it  half  way  down  the  hill.  He  was 
offered  in  place  of  it  a  package  of  dried  meat,  but 
this  he  scornfully  threw  upon  the  ground.  They 
might  carry  it,  he  said,  who  needed  it,  for  his 
part,  he  could  provide  his  daily  food  with  his  rifle. 
He  concluded  by  flinging  off  from  the  party,  and 
keeping  along  the  skirts  of  the  mountain,  leaving 
those,  he  said,  to  climb  rocks,  who  were  afraid  to 
face  Indians.  It  was  in  vain  that  Mr.  Stuart  rep- 
resented to  him  the  rashness  of  his  conduct,  and 
the  dangers  to  which  he  exposed  himself ;  he  re- 
jected such  counsel  as  craven.  It  was  equally 
useless  to  represent  the  dangers  to  which  he  sub- 
jected his  companions  ;  as  he  could  be  discover- 
ed at  a  great  distance  on  those  naked  plains,  and 
the  Indians,  seeing  him,  would  know  that  there 
must  be  other  white  men  within  reach.  M'Lellan 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  every  remonstrance,  and  kept 
on  his  wilful  way. 

It  seems  a  strange  instance  of  perverseness  in 
this  man  thus  to  fling  himself  off  alone,  in  a  savage 
region,  where  solitude  itself  was  dismal,  but 
every  encounter  with  his  fellow-man  full  of  peril. 
Such,  however,  is  the  hardness  of  spirit,  and  the 
insensibility  to  danger,  that  grow  upon  men  in 
the  wilderness.  M'Lellan,  moreover,  was  a  man 
of  peculiar  temperament,  ungovernable  in  his 
will,  of  a  courage  that  absolutely  knew  no  fear, 
and  somewhat  of  a  braggart  spirit,  that  took  a 
pride  in  doing  desperate  and  hair-brained  things. 

Mr.  Stuart  and  his  party  found  the  passage  of 
the  mountain  somewhat  difficult,  on  account  of 
the  snow,  which  in  many  places  was  of  consider- 
able depth,  though  it  was  now  but  the  ist  of  Oc- 
tober. They  crossed  the  summit  early  in  the 
afternoon,  and  beheld  below  them  a  plain  about 
twenty  miles  wide,  bounded  on  the  opposite  side 
by  their  old  acquaintances,  the  Pilot  Knobs,  those 
towering  mountains  which  had  served  Mr.  Hunt 
as  landmarks  in  part  of  his  route  of  the  preceding 
year.  Through  the  intermediate  plain  wandered 
a  river  about  fifty  yards  wide,  sometimes  gleam- 
ing in  open  day,  but  oftener  running  through  wil- 
lowed  banks,  which  marked  its  serpentine  course. 

Those  of  the  party  who  had  been  across  these 
mountains  pointed  out  much  of  the  bearings  of 
the  country  to  Mr.  Stuart.  They  showed  him  in 
what  direction  must  lie  the  deserted  post  called 
Henry's  Fort,  where  they  had  abandoned  their 
horses  and  embarked  in  canoes,  and  they  inform- 
ed him  that  the  stream  which  wandered  through 
the  plain  below  them,  fell  into  Henry  River,  half 
way  between  the  fort  and  the  mouth  of  Mad  or 
Snake  River.  The  character  of  all  this  mountain 
region  was  decidedly  volcanic  ;  and  to  the  north- 
west, between  Henry's  Fort  and  the  source  of  the 
Missouri,  Mr.  Stuart  observed  several  very  high 


peaks  covered  with  snow,  from  two  of  which 
smoke  ascended  in  considerable  volumes,  appar- 
ently from  craters,  in  a  state  of  eruption. 

On  their  way  down  the  mountain,  when  they 
had  reached  the  skirts, they  descried  M'Lellan  at 
a  distance,  in  the  advance,  traversing  the  plain. 
Whether  he  saw  them  or  not,  he  showed  no  dispo- 
sition to  rejoin  them,  but  pursued  his  sullen  and 
solitary  way.  After  descending  into  the  plain, 
they  kept  on  about  six  miles,  until  they  reached 
the  little  river,  which  was  here  about  knee  deep, 
and  richly  fringed  with  willow.  Here  they  en- 
camped for  the  night.  At  this  encampment  the 
fever  of  Mr.  Crooks  increased  to  such  a  degree 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  travel.  Some 
of  the  men  were  strenuous  for  Mr.  Stuart  to  pro- 
ceed without  him,  urging  the  imminent  danger 
they  were  exposed  to  by  delay  in  that  unknown 
and  barren  region,  infested  by  the  most  treacher- 
ous and  inveterate  of  foes.  They  represented  that 
the  season  was  rapidly  advancing  ;  the  weather 
for  some  days  had  been  extremely  cold  ;  the 
mountains  were  already  almost  impassable  from 
snow,  and  would  soon  present  effectual  barriers. 
Their  provisions  were  exhausted  ;  there  was  no 
game  to  be  seen,  and  they  did  not  dare  to  use 
their  rifles,  through  fear  of  drawing  upon  them 
the  Blackfeet. 

The  picture  thus  presented  was  too  true  to  be 
contradicted,  and  made  a  deep  impression  on  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Stuart  ;  but  the  idea  of  abandoning 
a  fellow-being,  and  a  comrade,  in  such  a  forlorn 
situation,  was  too  repugnant  to  his  feelings  to  be 
admitted  for  an  instant.  He  represented  to  the 
men  that  the  malady  of  Mr.  Crooks  could  not  be 
of  long  duration,  and  that  in  all  probability  he 
would  be  able  to  travel  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days.  It  was  with  great  difficulty,  however,  that 
he  prevailed  upon  them  to  abide  the  event. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

As  the  travelers  were  now  in  a  dangerous  neigh- 
borhood where  the  report  of  a  rifle  might  bring 
the  savages  upon  them,  they  had  to  depend  upon 
their  old  beaver-trap  for  subsistence.  The  little 
river  on  which  they  were  encamped  gave  many 
"  beaver  signs,"  and  Ben  Jones  set  off  at  day- 
break, along  the  willowed  banks,  to  find  a  proper 
trapping-place.  As  he  was  making  his  way 
among  the  thickets,  with  his  trap  on  his  shoulder 
and  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  he  heard  a  crashing 
sound,  and  turning,  beheld  a  huge  grizzly  bear 
advancing  upon  him  with  a  terrific  growl.  The 
sturdy  Kentuckian  was  not  to  be  intimidated  by 
man  or  monster.  Levelling  his  rifle,  he  pulled 
trigger.  The  bear  was  wounded,  but  not  mor- 
tally ;  instead,  however,  of  rushing  upon  his  as- 
sailant, as  is  generally  the  case  with  this  kind  of 
bear,  he  retreated  into  the  bushes.  Jones  follow- 
ed him  tor  some  distance,  but  with  suitable  cau- 
tion, and  Bruin  effected  his  escape. 

As  there  was  every  prospect  of  a  detention  of 
some  days  in  this  place,  and  as  the  supplies  of  the 
beaver-trap  were  too  precarious  to  be  depended 
upon,  it  became  absolutely  necessary  to  run  some 
risk  of  discovery  by  hunting  in  the  neighborhood. 
Ben  Jones,  therefore,  obtained  permission  to 
range  with  his  rifle  some  distance  from  the  camp, 
and  set  off  to  beat  up  the  river  banks,  in  defiance 
of  bear  or  Blackfeet. 

He  returned  in  great  spirits  in  the  course  of  a 
few  hours,  having  come  upon  a  gang  of  elk  about 


ASTORIA. 


403 


six  miles  off,  and  killed  five.  This  was  joyful  news, 
and  the  party  immediately  moved  forward  to  the 
place  where  he  had  left  the  carcasses.  They 
were  obliged  to  support  Mr.  Crooks  the  whole 
distance,  for  he  was  unable  to  walk.  Here  they 
remained  for  two  or  three  clays,  feasting-  heartily 
on  elk  meat,  and  drying  as  much  as  they  would 
be  able  to  carry  away  with  them. 

By  the  5th  of  October,  some  simple  prescriptions, 
together  with  an  "  Indian  sweat,"  had  so  far 
benefited  Mr.  Crooks,  that  he  was  enabled  to 
move  about  ;  they,  therefore,  set  forward  slowly, 
dividing  his  pack  and  accoutrements  among 
them,  and  made  a  creeping  day's  progress  of 
eight  miles  south.  Their  route  for  the  most  part 
lay  through  swamps,  caused  by  the  industrious  la- 
bors of  the  beaver  ;  for  this  little  animal  had 
dammed  up  numerous  small  streams  issuing 
from  the  Pilot  Knob  Mountains,  so  that  the  low 
grounds  on  their  borders  were  completely  inun- 
dated. In  the  course  of  their  march  they  killed  a 
grizzly  bear,  with  fat  on  its  flank  upwards  of  three 
inches  in  thickness.  This  was  an  acceptable  ad- 
dition to  their  stock  of  elk  meat.  The  next  day 
Mr.  Crooks  was  sufficiently  recruited  in  strength 
to  be  able  to  carry  his  rifle  and  pistols,  and  they 
made  a  march  of  seventeen  miles  along  the  bor- 
ders of  the  plain. 

Their  journey  daily  became  more  toilsome,  and 
their  sufferings  more  severe,  as  they  advanced. 
Keeping  up  the  channel  of  a  river,  they  traversed 
the  rugged  summit  of  the  Pilot  Knob  Mountain, 
covered  with  snow  nine  inches  deep.  For  several 
days  they  continued,  bending  their  course  as 
much  as  possible  to  the  east,  over  a  succession  of 
rocky  heights,  deep  valleys,  and  rapid  streams. 
Sometimes  their  dizzy  path  lay  along  the  margin 
of  perpendicular  precipices,  several  hundred  feet 
in  height,  where  a  single  false  step  might  precipi- 
tate them  into  the  rocky  bed  of  a  torrent  which 
roared  below.  Not  the  least  part  of  their  weary 
task  was  the  fording  of  the  numerous  windings 
and  branchings  of  the  mountain  rivers,  all  bois- 
terous in  their  currents  and  icy  cold. 

Hunger  was  added  to  their  other  sufferings, 
and  soon  became  the  keenest.  The  small  supply 
of  bear  and  elk  meat  which  they  had  been  able  to 
carry,  in  addition  to  their  previous  burdens,  serv- 
ed but  for  a  very  short  time.  In  their  anxiety  to 
struggle  forward,  they  had  but  little  time  to  hunt, 
and  scarce  any  game  in  their  path.  "For  three 
days  they  had  nothing  to  eat  but  a  small  duck 
and  a  few  poor  trout.  They  occasionally  saw 
numbers  of  antelopes,  and  tried  every  art  to  get 
within  shot  ;  but  the  timid  animals  were  more 
than  commonly  wild,  and  after  tantalizing  the 
hungry  hunters  for  a  time,  bounded  away  be- 
yond all  chance  of  pursuit.  At  length  they  were 
fortunate  enough  to  kill  one  ;  it  was  extremely 
meagre,  and  yielded  but  a  scanty  supply  ;  but  on 
this  they  subsisted  for  several  days. 

On  the  nth,  they  encamped  on  a  small  stream, 
near  the  foot  of  the  Spanish  River  Mountain. 
Here  they  met  with  traces  of  that  wayward  and 
solitary  being,  M'Lellan,  who  was  still  keeping 
on  ahead  of  them  through  these  lonely  mountains. 
He  had  encamped  the  night  before  on  this 
stream  ;  they  found  the  embers  of  the  fire  by 
which  he  had  slept,  and  the  remains  of  a  misera- 
ble wolf  on  which  he  had  supped.  It  was  evident 
he  had  suffered,  like  themselves,  the  pangs  of 
hunger,  though  he  had  fared  better  at  this  en- 
campment ;  for  they  had  not  a  mouthful  to  eat. 

The  next  day  they  rose  hungry  and  alert,  and 
set  out  with  the  dawn  to  climb  the  mountain, 


which  was  steep  and  difficult.  Traces  of  volcanic 
eruptions  were  to  be  seen  in  various  directions. 
There  was  a  species  of  clay  also  to  be  rrfet  with, 
out  of  which  the  Indians  manufacture  pots  and 
]ars,  and  dishes.  It  is  very  fine  and  light,  of  an 
agreeable  smell,  and  of  a  brown  color  spotted 
with  yellow,  and  dissolves  readily  in  the  mouth. 
Vessels  manufactured  of  it  are  said  to  impart  a 
pleasant  smell  and  flavor  to  any  liquids.  These 
mountains  abound  also  with  mineral  earths,  or 
chalks  of  various  colors  ;  especially  two  kinds  of 
ochre,  one  a  pale,  the  other  a  bright  red,  like  ver- 
milion ;  much  used  by  the  Indians,  in  painting 
their  bodies. 

About  noon  the  travellers  reached  the  "  drains" 
I  and  brooks  that  formed  the  head  waters  of  the 
,  river,  and  later  in  the  day  descended  to  where  the 
:  main  body,  a  shallow  stream,  about  a  hundred 
I  and  sixty  yards  wide,  poured  through  its  moun- 
|  tain  valley. 

Here  the  poor  famishing  wanderers  had  expect- 
ed to  find  buffalo  in  abundance,  and  had  fed  their 
hungry  hopes  during  their  scrambling  toil, with  the 
thoughts  of  roasted  ribs,  juicy  humps,  and  broiled 
marrow  bones.  To  their  great  disappointment 
the  river  banks  were  deserted  ;  a  few  old  tracks, 
showed  where  a  herd  of  bulls  had  some  time  be- 
fore passed  along,  but  not  a  horn  npr  hump  was 
to  be  seen  in  the  sterile  landscape.  A  few  ante- 
lopes looked  down  upon  them  from  the  brow  of 
a  crag,  but  flitted  away  out  of  sight  at  the  least  ap-. 
proach  of  the  hunter. 

In  the  most  starving  mood  they  kept  for  several 
miles  further  along  the  bank  of  the  river,  seeking 
for  "  beaver  signs."  Finding  some,  they  en- 
camped in  the  vicinity,  and  Ben  Jones  immediately 
proceeded  to  set  the  trap.  They  had  scarce  come 
to  a  halt,  when  they  perceived  a  large  smoke  at 
some  distance  to  the  southwest.  The  sight  was 
j  hailed  with  joy,  for  they  trusted  it  might  rise 
from  some  Indian  camp,  where  they  could  pro- 
cure something  to  eat,  and  the  dread  of  starva- 
tion had  now  overcome  even  the  terror  of  the 
Blackfeet.  Le  Clerc,  one  of  the  Canadians,  was 
instantly  dispatched  by  Mr.  Stuart,  to  reconnoi- 
tre ;  and  the  travellers  sat  up  till  a  late  hour, 
watching  and  listening  for  his  return,  hoping  he 
might  bring  them  food.  Midnight  arrived,  but 
Le  Clerc  did  not  make  his  appearance,  and  they 
laid  down  once  more  supperless  to  sleep,  comfort- 
ing themselves  with  the  hopes  that  their  old 
beaver  trap  might  furnish  them  with  a  break- 
fast. 

At  daybreak  they  hastened  with  famished  eager- 
ness to  the  trap — they  found  it  in  the  forepaw  of 
a  beaver  ;  the  sight  of  which  tantalized  their 
hunger,  and  added  to  their  dejection.  They  re- 
sumed their  journey  with  flagging  spirits,  but  had 
not  gone  far  when  they  perceived  Le  Clerc  ap- 
proaching at  a  distance.  They  hastened  to  meet 
him,  in  hopes  of  tidings  of  good  cheer.  He  had 
none  to  give  them  ;  but  news  of  that  strange 
wanderer,  M'Lellan.  The  smoke  had  risen  from 
his  encampment,  which  took  fire  while  he  was  at 
a  little  distance  from  it  fishing.  Le  Clerc  found 
him  in  forlorn  condition.  His  fishing  had  been 
unsuccessful.  During  twelve  days  that  he  had 
been  wandering  alone  through  these  savage 
mountains,  he  had  found  scarce  anything  to  eat. 
He  had  been  ill,  wayworn,  sick  at  heart,  still  he 
had  kept  forward  ;  but  now  his  strength  and  his 
stubbornness  were  exhausted.  He  expressed,  his 
satisfaction  at  hearing  that  Mr.  Stuart  and  his 
party  were  near,  and  said  he  would  wait  at  his 
camp  for  their  arrival,  in  hopes  they  would  give 


404 


ASTORIA. 


him  something  to  eat,  for  without  food  he  declared 
he  should  not  be  able  to  proceed  much  further. 

When  the  party  reached  the  place,  they  found 
the  poor  fellow  lying  on  a  parcel  of  withered  grass, 
wasted  to  a  perfect  skeleton,  and  so  feeble  that 
he  could  scarce  raise  his  head  to  speak.  The 
presence  of  his  old  comrades  seemed  to  revive 
him  ;  but  they  had  no  food  to  give  him,  for  they 
themselves  were  almost  starving.  They  urged 
him  to  rise  and  accompany  them,  but  he  shook 
his  head.  It  was  all  in  vain,  he  said  ;  there  was 
no  prospect  of  their  getting  speedy  relief,  and 
without  it  he  should  perish  by  the  way  ;  he  might 
as  well,  therefore,  stay  and  die  where  he  was.  At 
length,  after  much  persuasion,  they  got  him  upon 
his  legs  ;  his  rifle  and  other  effects  were  shared 
among  them,  and  he  was  cheered  and  aided  for- 
ward. In  this  way  they  proceeded  for  seventeen 
miles,  over  a  level  plain  of  sand,  until,  seeing  a  few 
antelopes  in  the  distance,  they  encamped  on  the 
margin  of  a  small  stream.  All  now  that  were 
capable  of  the  exertion,  turned  out  to  hunt  for  a 
meal.  Their  efforts  were  fruitless,  and  after  dark 
they  returned  to  their  camp,  famished  almost  to 
desperation. 

As  they  were  preparing  for  the  third  time  to  lay 
down  to  sleep  without  a  mouthful  to  eat,  Le  Clerc, 
one  of  the  Canadians,  gaunt  and  wild  with  hunger, 
approached  Mr.  Stuart  with  his  gun  in  his  hand. 
"  It  was  all  in  vain,"  he  said,  "  toattempt^to  pro- 
ceed any  further  without  food.  They  had  a  bar- 
ren plain  before  them,  three  or  four  days'  journey 
in  extent,  on  which  nothing  was  to  be  procured. 
They  must  all  perish  before  they  could  get  to  the 
end  of  it.  It  was  better,  therefore,  that  one 
should  die  to  save  the  rest."  He  proposed  there- 
fore, that  they  should  cast  lots  ;  adding  as  an  in- 
ducement for  Mr.  Stuart  to  assent  to  the  proposi- 
tion, that  he,  as  leader  of  the  party,  should  be  ex- 
empted. 

Mr.  Stuart  shuddered  at  the  horrible  proposi- 
tion, and  endeavored  to  reason  with  the  man,  but 
his  words  were  unavailing.  At  length,  snatching 
up  his  rifle,  he  threatened  to  shoot  him  on  the 
spot  if  he  persisted.  The  famished  wretch  drop- 
ped on  his  knees,  begged  pardon  in  the  mostab- 
ject  terms,  and  promised  never  again  to  offend 
him  with  such  a  suggestion. 

Quiet  being  restored  to  the  forlorn  encamp- 
ment, each  one  sought  repose.  Mr.  Stuart,  how- 
ever, was  so  exhausted  by  the  agitation  of  the 
past  scene,  acting  upon  his  emaciated  frame, 
that  he  could  scarce  crawl  to  his  miserable  couch  ; 
where,  notwithstanding  his  fatigues,  he  passed  a 
sleepless  night,  revolving  upon  their  dreary  situa- 
tion, and  the  desperate  prospect  before  them. 

Before  daylight  the  next  morning,  they  were  up 
and  on  their  way  ;  they  had  nothing  to  detain 
them  ;  no  breakfast  to  prepare,  and  to  linger  was 
to  perish.  They  proceeded,  however,  but  s.lowly, 
for  all  were  faint  and  weak.  Here  and  there  they 
passed  the  skulls  and  bones  of  buffaloes,  which 
showed  that  these  animals  must  have  been  hunted 
here  during  the  past  season  ;  the  sight  of  these 
bones  served  only  to  mock  their  misery.  After 
travelling  about  nine  miles  along  the  plain,  they 
ascended  a  range  of  hills,  and  had  scarcely  gone 
two  miles  further  when,  to  their  great  joy,  they 
discovered  "  an  old  run-down  buffalo  bull  ;"  the 
laggard  probably  of  some  herd  that  had  been 
hunted  and  harassed  through  the  mountains. 
They  now  all  stretched  themselves  out  to  encom- 
pass and  make  sure  of  this  solitary  animal,  for 
their  lives  depended  upon  their  success.  After 
considerable  trouble  and  infinite  anxiety,  they  at 


length  succeeded  in  killing  him.  He  was  instant- 
ly flayed  and  cut  up,  and  so  ravenous  was  their 
hunger  that  they  devoured  some  of  the  flesh  raw. 
The  residue  they  carried  to  a  brook  near  by, 
where  they  encamped,  lit  a  fire,  and  began  to 
cook. 

Mr.  Stuart  was  fearful  that  in  their  famished 
state  they  would  eat  to  excess  and  injure  them- 
selves. He  caused  a  soup  to  be  made  of  some  of 
the  meat,  and  that  each  should  take  a  quantity  of 
it  as  a  prelude  to  his  supper.  This  may  have  had 
a  beneficial  effect,  for  though  they  sat  up  the 
greater  part  of  the  night,  cooking  and  cramming, 
no  one  suffered  any  inconvenience. 

The  next  morning  the  feasting  was  resumed, 
and  about  midday,  feeling  somewhat  recruited 
and  refreshed,  they  set  out  on  their  journey  with 
renovated  spirits,  shaping  their  course  toward  a 
mountain,  the  summit  of  which  they  saw  towering 
in  the  east,  and  near  to  which  they  expected  to 
find  the  head  waters  of  the  Missouri. 

As  they  proceeded,  they  continued  to  see  the 
skeletons  of  buffaloes  scattered  about  the  plain  in 
every  direction,  which  showed  that  there  had 
been  much  hunting  here  by  the  Indians  in  the  re- 
cent season.  Further  on  they  crossed  a  large  In- 
dian trail,  forming  a  deep  path,  about  fifteen  clays 
old,  which  went  in  a  north  direction.  They  con- 
cluded it  to  have  been  made  by  some  numerous 
band  of  Crows,  who  had  hunted  in  this  country 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  summer. 

On  the  following  day  they  forded  a  stream  of 
considerable  magnitude,  with  banks  clothed  with 
pine  trees.  Among  these  they  found  the  traces 
of  a  large  Indian  camp,  which  had  evidently  been 
the  headquarters  of  a  hunting  expedition,  from  the 
great  quantities  of  buffalo  bones  strewed  about 
the  neighborhood.  The  camp  had  apparently 
been  abandoned  about  a  month. 

In  the  centre  was  a  singular  lodge  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  in  circumference,  supported  by  the 
trunks  of  twenty  trees,  about  twelve  inches  in  di- 
ameter and  forty-four  feet  long.  Across  these 
were  laid  branches  of  pine  and  willow  trees,  so  as 
to  yield  a  tolerable  shade.  At  the  west  end,  im- 
mediately opposite  to  the  door,  three  bodies  lav- 
interred  with  their  feet  toward  the  east.  At  the 
head  of  each  grave  was  a  branch  of  red  cedar 
firmly  planted  in  the  ground.  At  the  foot  was  a 
large  buffalo's  skull,  painted  black.  Savage  or- 
naments were  suspended  in  various  parts  of  the 
edifice,  and  a  great  number  of  children's  mocca- 
sons.  From  the  magnitude  of  this  building,  and 
the  time  and  labor  that  must  have  been  expended 
in  erecting  it,  the  bodies  which  it  contained  were 
probably  those  of  noted  warriors  and  hunters. 

The  next  day,  October  i/th,  they  passed  two 
large  tributary  streams  of  the  Spanish  River.  They 
took  their  rise  in  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
which  ranged  along  to  the  east,  stupendously 
high  and  rugged,  composed  of  vast  masses  of 
black  rock,  almost  destitute  of  wood,  and  covered 
in  many  places  with  snow.  This  day  they  saw  a 
few  buffalo  bulls,  and  some  antelopes,  but  could 
not  kill  any  ;  and  their  stock  of  provisions  began 
to  grow  scanty  as  well  as  poor. 

On  the  1 8th,  after  crossing  a  mountain  ridge, 
and  traversing  a  plain,  they  waded  one  of  the 
branches  of  the  Spanish  River,  and  on  ascending 
its  bank,  met  with  about  a  hundred  and  thirty 
Snake  Indians.  They  were  friendly  in  their  de- 
meanor, and  conducted  them  to  their  encamp- 
ment, which  was  about  three  miles  distant.  It 
consisted  of  about  forty  wigwams,  constructed 
principally  of  pine  branches.  The  Snakes,  like 


ASTORIA. 


405 


most  of  their  nation,  were  very  poor  ;  the  ma- 
rauding Crows,  in  their  late  excursion  through 
the  country,  had  picked  this  unlucky  band  to  the 
very  bone,  carrying  off  their  horses,  several  of  their 
squaws,  and  most  of  their  effects.  In  spite  of 
their  poverty,  they  were  hospitable  in  the  extreme, 
and  made  the  hungry  strangers  welcome  to  their 
cabins.  A  few  trinkets  procured  from  them  a 
supply  of  buffalo  meat,  and  of  leather  for  mocca- 
sons,  of  which  the  party  were  greatly  in  need. 
The  most  valuable  prize  obtained  from  them,  how- 
ever, was  a  horse  ;  it  was  a  sorry  old  animal,  in 
truth,  but  it  was  the  only  one  that  remained  to 
the  poor  fellows,  after  the  fell  swoop  of  the 
Crows  ;  yet  this  they  were  prevailed  upon  to  part 
with  to  their  guests  for  a  pistol,  an  axe,  a  knife, 
and  a  few  other  trifling  articles. 

They  had  doleful  stories  to  tell  of  the  Crows, 
who  were  encamped  on  a  river  at  no  great  dis- 
tance to  the  east,  and  were  in  such  force  that  they 
dared  not  venture  to  seek  any  satisfaction  for 
their  outrages,  or  to  get  back  a  horse  or  squaw. 
They  endeavored  to  excite  the  indignation  of 
their  visitors  by  accounts  of  robberies  and  mur- 
ders committed  on  lonely  white  hunters  and  trap- 
pers by  Crows  and  Blackfeet.  Some  of  these 
were  exaggerations  of  the  outrages  already  men- 
tioned, sustained  by  some  of  the  scattered  mem- 
bers of  Mr.  Hunt's  expedition  ;  others  were  in 
all  probability  sheer  fabrications,  to  which  the 
Snakes  seem  to  have  been  a  little  prone.  Mr. 
Stuart  assured  them  that  the  day  was  not  far  dis- 
tant when  the  whites  would  make  their  power  to 
be  felt  throughout  that  country  and  take  signal 
vengeance  on  the  perpetrators  of  these  misdeeds. 
The  Snakes  expressed  great  joy  at  the  intelligence, 
and  offered  their  services  to  aid  the  righteous 
cause,  brightening  at  the  thoughts  of  taking  the 
field  with  such  potent  allies,  and  doubtless  antici- 
pating their  turn  at  stealing  horses  and  abducting 
squaws.  Their  offers  of  course  were  accepted  ; 
the  calumet  of  peace  was  produced,  and  the  two 
forlorn  powers  smoked  eternal  friendship  be- 
tween themselves,  and  vengeance  upon  their  com- 
mon spoilers,  the  Crows. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BY  sunrise  on  the  following  morning  (October 
igth),  the  travellers  had  loaded  their  old  horse 
with  buffalo  meat,  sufficient  for  five  days'  provi- 
sions, and,  taking  leave  of  their  new  allies,  the  poor 
but  hospitable  Snakes,  set  forth  in  somewhat  bet- 
ter spirits,  though  the  increasing  cold  of  the 
weather  and  the  sight  of  the  snowy  mountains 
which  they  had  yet  to  traverse,  were  enough  to 
chill  their  very  hearts.  The  country  along  this 
branch  of  the  Spanish  River,  as  far  as  they  could 
see,  was  perfectly  level,  bounded  by  ranges  of 
lofty  mountains,  both  to  the  east  and  west.  They 
proceeded  about  three  miles  to  the  south,  where 
they  came  again  upon  the  large  trail  of  Crow  In- 
dians, which  they  had  crossed  four  days  previous- 
ly, made,  no  doubt,  by  the  same  marauding  band 
that  had  plundered  the  Snakes  ;  and  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  account  of  the  latter,  was  now  en- 
camped on  a  stream  to  the  eastward.  The  trail 
kept  on  to  the  southeast,  and  was  so  well  beaten  by 
horse  and  foot,  that  they  supposed  at  least  a  hun- 
dred lodges  had  passed  along  it.  As  it  formed, 
therefore,  a  convenient  highway,  and  ran  in  a 
proper  direction,  they  turned  into  it,  and  deter- 
mined to  keep  along  it  as  far  as  safety  would  per- 
mit ;  as  the  Crow  encampment  must  be  some  dis- 


tance off,  and  it  was  not  likely  those  savages 
would  return  upon  their  steps.  They  travelled 
forward,  therefore,  all  that  day,  in  the  track  of 
their  dangerous  predecessors,  which  led  them 
across  mountain  streams,  and  along  ridges,  and 
through  narrow  valleys,  all  tending  generally  to- 
ward the  southeast.  The  wind  blew  coldly  from 
the  northeast,  with  occasional  flurries  of  snow, 
which  made  them  encamp  early,  on  the  sheltered 
banks  of  a  brook.  The  two  Canadians,  Valle"e 
and  Le  Clerc,  killed  a  young  buffalo  bull  in  the 
evening,  which  was  in  good  condition,  and  afford- 
ed them  a  plentiful  supply  of  fresh  beef.  They 
loaded  their  spits,  therefore,  and  crammed  their 
camp  kettle  with  meat,  and  while  the  wind 
whistled,  and  the  snow  whirled  around  them,  hud- 
dled round  a  rousing  fire,  basked  in  its  warmth, 
and  comforted  both  soul  and  body  with  a  hearty 
and  invigorating  meal.  No  enjoyments  have 
greater  zest  than  these,  snatched  in  the  very  midst 
of  difficulty  and  danger  ;  and  it  is  probable  the 
poor  wayworn  and  weather-beaten  travellers  rel- 
ished these  creature  comforts  the  more  highly 
from  the  surrounding  desolation,  and  the  danger- 
ous proximity  of  the  Crows. 

The  snow  which  had  fallen  in  the  night  made 
it  late  in  the  morning  before  the  party  loaded  their 
solitary  pack-horse,  and  resumed  their  march. 
They  had  not  gone  far  before  the  Crow  trace 
which  they  were  following  changed  its  direction, 
and  bore  to  the  north  of  east.  They  had  already 
begun  to  feel  themselves  on  dangerous  ground  in 
keeping  along  it,  as  they  might  be  descried  by 
some  scouts  and  spies  of  that  race  of  Ishmaelites, 
whose  predatory  life  required  them  to  be  constant- 
ly on  the  alert.  On  seeing  the  trace  turn  so  much 
to  the  north,  therefore,  they  abandoned  it,  and 
kept  on  their  course  to  the  southeast  for  eighteen 
miles,  through  a  beautifully  undulating  country, 
having  the  main  chain  of  mountains  on  the  left, 
and  a  considerably  elevated  ridge  on  the  right. 
Here  the  mountain  ridge  which  divides  Wind 
River  from  the  head  waters  of  the  Columbia  and 
Spanish  Rivers  ends  abruptly,  and  winding  to  the 
north  of  east,  becomes  the  dividing  barrier  be- 
tween a  branch  of  the  Big  Horn  and  Cheyenne 
Rivers,  and  those  head  waters  which  flow  into 
the  Missouri  below  the  Sioux  country. 

The  ridge  which  lay  on  the  right  of  the  travel- 
lers having  now  become  very  low,  they  passed  over 
it,  and  came  into  a  level  plain  about  ten  miles  in 
circumference,  and  incrusted  to  the  depth  of  a 
foot  or  eighteen  inches  with  salt  as  white  as  snow. 
This  is  furnished  by  numerous  salt  springs  of 
limpid  water,  which  are  continually  welling  up, 
overflowing  their  borders  and  forming  beautiful 
crystallizations.  The  Indian  tribes  of  the  interior 
are  excessively  fond  of  this  salt,  and  repair  to  the 
valley  to  collect  it,  but  it  is  held  in  distaste  by  the 
tribes  of  the  sea-coast,  who  will  eat  nothing  that 
has  been  cured  or  seasoned  by  it. 

This  evening  they  encamped  on  the  banks  of  a 
small  stream,  in  the  open  prairie.  The  northeast 
wind  was  keen  and  cutting  ;  they  had  nothing 
wherewith  to  make  a  fire,  but  a  scanty  growth  of 
sage,  or  wormwood,  and  were  fain  to  wrap  them- 
selves up  in  their  blankets,  and  huddle  them- 
selves in  their  "  nests,"  at  an  early  hour.  In  the 
course  of  the  evening,  Mr.  M'Lellan,  who  had 
now  regained  his  strength,  killed  a  buffalo,  but  it 
was  some  distance  from  the  camp,  and  they  post- 
poned supplying  themselves  from  the  carcass  un- 
til the  following  morning. 

The  next  day  (October  2 ist)  the  cold  continued, 
accompanied  by  snow.  They  set  forward  on 


40G 


ASTORIA. 


their  bleak  and  toilsome  way,  keeping  to  the  east- 
northeast,  toward  the  lofty  summit  of  a  moun- 
tain, which  it  was  necessary  for  them  to  cross. 
Before  they  reached  its  base  they  passed  another 
large  trail,  steering  a  little  to  the  right  of  the 
point  of  the  mountain.  This  they  presumed  to 
have  been  made  by  another  band  of  Crows,  who 
had  probably  been  hunting  lower  down  on  the 
Spanish  River. 

The  severity  of  the  weather  compelled  them  to 
encamp  at  the  end  of  fifteen  miles,  on  the  skirts 
of  the  mountain,  where  they  found  sufficient  dry 
aspen  trees  to  supply  them  with  fire,  but  they 
sought  in  vain  about  the  neighborhood  for  a 
spring  or  rill  of  water. 

At  daybreak  they  were  up  and  on  the  march, 
scrambling  up  the  mountain  side  for  the  distance 
of  eight  painful  miles.  From  the  casual  hints 
given  in  the  travelling  memoranda  of  Mr.  Stuart, 
this  mountain  would  seem  to  offer  a  rich  field  of 
speculation  for  the  geologist.  Here  was  a  plain 
three  miles  in  diameter,  strewed  with  pumice 
stone  and  other  volcanic  reliques,  with  a  lake  in 
the  centre,  occupying  what  had  probably  been 
the  crater.  Here  were  also,  in  some  places,  de- 
posits of  marine  shells,  indicating  that  this  moun- 
tain crest  had  at  some  remote  period  been  below 
the  waves. 

After  pausing  to  repose,  and  to  enjoy  these 
grand  but  savage  and  awful  scenes,  they  began 
to  descend  the  eastern  side  of  the  mountain.  The 
descent  was  rugged  and  romantic,  along  deep 
ravines  and  defiles,  overhung  with  crags  and 
cliffs,  among  which  they  beheld  numbers  of  the 
ahsahta  or  bighorn,  skipping  fearlessly  from  rock 
to  rock.  Two  of  them  they  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing down  with  their  rifles,  as  they  peered  fear- 
lessly from  the  brow  of  their  airy  precipices. 

Arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  travel- 
lers found  a  rill  of  water  oozing  out  of  the  earth, 
and  resembling  in  look  and  taste  the  water  of  the 
Missouri.  Here  they  encamped  for  the  night,  and 
supped  sumptuously  upon  their  mountain  mutton, 
which  they  found  in  good  condition,  and  extreme- 
ly well  tasted. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  intensely  cold. 
Early  in  the  day  they  came  upon  a  stream  run- 
ning to  the  east,  between  low  hills  of  bluish  earth, 
strongly  impregnated  with  copperas.  Mr.  Stuart 
supposed  this  to  be  one  of  the  head  waters  of  the 
Missouri,  and  determined  to  follow  its  banks. 
After  a  march  of  twenty-six  miles,  however  he  ar- 
rived at  the  summit  of  a  hill,  the  prospect  of 
which  induced  him  to  alter  his  intention.  He  be- 
held, in  every  direction  south  of  east,  a  vast  plain, 
bounded  only  by  the  horizon,  through  which 
wandered  the  stream  in  question,  in  a  south- 
southeast  direction.  It  could  not,  therefore,  be  a 
branch  of  the  Missouri.  He  now  gave  up  all  idea 
of  taking  the  stream  for  his  guide,  and  shaped  his 
course  toward  a  range  of  mountains  in  the  east, 
about  sixty  miles  distant,  near  which  he  hoped  to 
find  another  stream. 

The  weather  was  now  so  severe,  and  the  hard- 
ships of  travelling  so  great,  that  he  resolved  to 
halt  for  the  winter,  at  the  first  eligible  place. 
That  night  they  had  to  encamp  on  the  open 
prairie,  near  a  scanty  pool  of  water,  and  without 
any  wood  to  make  a  fire.  The  northeast  wind 
blew  keenly  across  the  naked  waste,  and  they 
were  fain  to  decamp  from  their  inhospitable  bi- 
vouac before  the  dawn. 

For  two  days  they  kept  on  in  an  eastward  di- 
rection, against  wintry  blasts  and  occasional 
snow  storms.  They  suffered,  also,  from  scarcity 


of  water,  having  occasionally  to  use  melted 
snow  ;  this,  with  the  want  of  pasturage,  reduced 
their  old  pack-horse  sadly.  They  saw  many 
tracks  of  buffalo,  and  some  few  bulls,  which,  how- 
ever, got  the  wind  of  them,  and  scampered  off. 

On  the  26th  of  October  they  steered  east-north- 
east, for  a  wooded  ravine,  in  a  mountain  at  a 
small  distance  from  the  base  of  which,  to  their 
great  joy,  they  discovered  an  abundant  stream, 
running  between  willowed  banks.  Here  they 
halted  for  the  night,  and  Ben  Jones  having  luckily 
trapped  a  beaver,  and  killed  two  buffalo  bulls, 
they  remained  all  the  next  day  encamped,  feast- 
ing and  reposing,  and  allowing  their  jaded  horse 
to  rest  from  his  labors. 

The  little  stream  on  which  they  were  encamped, 
was  one  of  the  head  waters  of  the  Platte  River, 
which  flows  into  the  Missouri  ;  it  was,  in  fact,  the 
northern  fork,  or  branch  of  that  river,  though 
this  the  travellers  did  not  discover  until  long  after- 
ward. Pursuing  the  course  of  this  stream  for 
about  twenty  miles,  they  came  to  where  it  forced 
a  passage  through  a  range  of  high  hills  covered 
with  cedars,  into  an  extensive  low  country,  afford- 
ing excellent  pasture  to  numerous  herds  of  buffa- 
lo. Here  they  killed  three  cows,  which  were  the 
first  they  had  been  able  to  get,  having  hitherto 
had  to  content  themselves  with  bull  beef,  which  at 
this  season  of  the  year  is  very  poor.  The  hump 
meat  afforded  them  a  repast  fit  for  an  epicure. 

Late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  3oth  they  came  to 
where  the  stream,  now  increased  to  a  considera- 
ble size,  poured  along  in  a  ravine  between  preci- 
pices of  red  stone,  two  hundred  feet  in  height. 
For  some  distance  it  dashed  along,  over  huge 
masses  of  rock,  with  foaming  violence,  as  if  exas- 
perated by  being  compressed  into  so  narrow  a 
channel,  and  at  length  leaped  down  a  chasm 
that  looked  dark  and  frightful  in  the  gathering 
twilight. 

For  a  part  of  the  next  day,  the  wild  river,  in  its 
capricious  wanderings,  led  them  through  a  vari- 
ety of  striking  scenes.  At  one  time  they  were 
upon  high  plains,  like  platforms  among  the  moun- 
tains, with  herds  of  buffaloes  roaming  about  them  ; 
at  another,  among  rude  rocky  defiles,  broken  into 
cliffs  and  precipices,  where  the  black-tailed  deer 
bounded  off  among  the  crags,  and  the  bighorn 
basked  on  the  sunny  brow  of  the  precipice. 

In  the  after  part  of  the  day  they  came  to 
another  scene,  surpassing  in  savage  grandeur 
those  already  described.  They  had  been  travel- 
ling for  some  distance  through  a  pass  of  the 
mountains,  keeping  parallel  with  the  river,  as  it 
roared  along,  out  of  sight,  through  a  deep  ravine. 
Sometimes  their  devious  path  approached  the  mar- 
gin of  cliffs  below  which  the  river  foamed  and 
boiled  and  whirled  among  the  masses  of  rock  that 
had  fallen  into  its  channel.  As  they  crept  cau- 
tiously on,  leading  their  solitary  pack-horse  along 
these  giddy  heights,  they  all  at  once  came  to 
where  the  river  thundered  down  a  succession  of 
precipices,  throwing  up  clouds  of  spray,  and  mak- 
ing a  prodigious  din  and  uproar.  The  travellers 
remained,  for  a  time,  gazing  with  mingled  awe 
and  delight,  at  this  furious  cataract,  to  which  Mr. 
Stuart  gave,  from  the  color  of  the  impending 
rocks,  the  name  of  "  The  Fiery  Narrows." 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE  travellers  encamped  for  the  night  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  below  the  cataract.  The  night 
was  cold,  with  partial  showers  of  rain  and  sleet. 


ASTORIA. 


407 


The  morning  dawned  gloomily,  the  skies  were 
sullen  and  overcast,  and  threatened  further 
storms  ;  but  the  little  band  resumed  their  journey, 
in  defiance  of  the  weather.  The  increasing  rigor 
of  the  season,  however,  which  makes  itself  felt 
early  in  these  mountainous  regions,  and  on  these 
naked  and  elevated  plains,  brought  them  to  a 
pause,  and  a  serious  deliberation,  after  they  had 
descended  about  thirty  miles  further  along  the 
course  of  the  river. 

All  were  convinced  that  it  was  in  vain  to  at- 
tempt to  accomplish  their  purney  on  foot  at  this 
inclement  season.  They  had  still  many  hundred 
miles  to  traverse  before  they  should  reach  the 
main  course  of  the  Missouri,  and  their  route 
would  lay  over  immense  prairies,  naked  aud 
bleak,  and  destitute  of  fuel.  The  question  then 
was,  where  to  choose  their  wintering  place,  and 
whether  or  not  to  proceed  further  down  the  river. 
They  had  at  first  imagined  it  to  be  one  of  the 
head  waters,  or  tributary  streams,  of  the  Mis- 
souri. Afterward,  they  had  believed  it  to  be  the 
Rapid,  or  Quicourt  River,  in  which  opinion  they 
had  not  come  nearer  to  the  truth  ;  they  now, 
however,  were  persuaded,  with  equal  fallacy,  by 
its  inclining  somewhat  to  the  north  of  east,  that 
it  was  the  Cheyenne.  If  so,  by  continuing  down 
it  much  further  they  must  arrive  among  the  In- 
dians, from  whom  the  river  takes  its  name. 
Among  these  they  would  be  sure  to  meet  some  of 
the  Sioux  tribe.  These  would  apprise  their  rela- 
tives, the  piratical  Sioux  of  the  Missouri,  of  the 
approach  of  a  band  of  white  traders  ;  so  that,  in 
the  spring  time,  they  would  be  likely  to  be  waylaid 
and  robbed  on  their  way  down  the  river,  by  some 
party  in  ambush  upon  its  banks. 

Even  should  this  prove  to  be  the  Quicourt  or 
Rapid  River,  it  would  not  be  prudent  to  winter 
much  further  down  upon  its  banks,  as,  though 
they  might  be  out  of  the  range  of  the  Sioux,  they 
would  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Poncas,  a 
tribe  nearly  as  dangerous.  It  was  resolved,  there- 
fore, since  they  must  winter  somewhere  on  this 
side  of  the  Missouri,  to  descend  no  lower,  but  to 
keep  up  in  these  solitary  regions,  where  they 
would  be  in  no  danger  of  molestation. 

They  were  brought  the  more  promptly  and 
unanimously  to  this  decision,  by  coming  upon  an 
excellent  wintering  place,  that  promised  everything 
requisite  for  their  comfort.  It  was  on  a  fine  bend 
of  the  river,  just  below  where  it  issued  out  from 
among  a  ridge  of  mountains,  and  bent  toward 
the  northeast.  Here  was  a  beautiful  low  point  of 
land,  covered  by  cotton-wood,  and  surrounded  by 
a  thick  growth  of  willow,  so  as  to  yield  both 
shelter  and  fuel,  as  well  as  materials  for  building. 
The  river  swept  by  in  a  strong  current,  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide.  To  the  southeast 
were  mountains  of  moderate  height,  the  nearest 
about  two  miles  off,  but  the  whole  chain  ranging 
to  the  east,  south,  and  southwest,  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  Their  summits  were  crowned  with 
extensive  tracts  of  pitch  pine,  checkered  with  small 
patches  of  the  quivering  aspen.  Lower  down 
were  thick  forests  of  firs  and  red  cedars,  growing 
out  in  many  places  from  the  very  fissures  of  the 
rocks.  The  mountains  were  broken  and  precipi- 
tous, with  huge  bluffs  protruding  from  among  the 
forests.  Their  rocky  recesses  and  beetling  cliffs 
afforded  retreats  to  innumerable  flocks  of  the 
bighorn,  while  their  woody  summits  and  ravines 
abounded  with  bears  and  black-tailed  deer.  These, 
with  the  numerous  herds  of  buffalo  that  ranged 
the  lower  grounds  along  the  river,  promised  the 
travellers  abundant  cheer  in  their  winter  quarters. 


On  the  2d  of  November,  therefore,  they  pitched 
their  camp  for  the  winter,  on  the  woody  point, 
and  their  first  thought  was  to  obtain  a  supply  of 
provisions.  Ben  Jones  and  the  two  Canadians 
accordingly  sallied  forth,  accompanied  by  two 
others  of  the  party,  leaving  but  one  to  watch  the 
camp.  Their  hunting  was  uncommonly  success- 
ful. In  the  course  of  two  days  they  killed  thirty- 
two  buffaloes,  and  collected  their  meat  on  the 
margin  of  a  small  brook,  about  a  mile  distant. 
Fortunately,  a  severe  frost  froze  the  river,  so  that 
the  meat  was  easily  transported  to  the  encamp- 
ment. On  a  succeeding  day,  a  herd  of  buffalo 
came  trampling  through  the  woody  bottom  on 
the  river  banks,  and  fifteen  more  were  killed. 

It  was  soon  discovered,  however,  that  there  was 
game  of  a  more  dangerous  nature  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. On  one  occasion  Mr.  Crooks  had  wander- 
ed about  a  mile  from  the  camp,  and  had  ascend- 
ed a  small  hill  commanding  a  view  of  the  river. 
He  was  without  his  rifle,  a  rare  circumstance,  for 
in  these  wild  regions,  where  one  may  put  up  a 
wild  animal,  or  a  wild  Indian,  at  every  turn,  it  is 
customary  never  to  stir  from  the  camp-fire  un- 
armed. The  hill  where  he  stood  overlooked  the 
place  where  the  massacre  of  the  buffalo  had  taken 
place.  As  he  was  looking  around  on  the  prospect 
his  eye  was  caught  by  an  object  below,  moving 
directly  toward  him.  To  his  dismay  he  discov- 
ered it  to  be  a  grizzly  bear,  with  two  cubs.  There 
was  no  tree  at  hand  into  which  he  could  climb  ; 
to  run  would  only  be  to  provoke  pursuit,  and  he 
should  soon  be  overtaken.  He  threw  himself  on 
the  ground,  therefore,  and  lay  motionless,  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  the  animal  with  intense 
anxiety.  It  continued  to  advance  until  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  when  it  turned,  and  made  into  the 
woods,  having  probably  gorged  itself  with  buffa- 
lo flesh.  Mr.  Crooks  made  all  haste  back  to  the 
camp,  rejoicing  at  his  escape,  and  determining 
never  to  stir  out  again  without  his  rifle.  A  few 
days  after  this  circumstance,  a  grizzly  bear  was 
shot  in  the  neighborhood  by  Mr.  Miller. 

As  the  slaughter  of  so  many  buffaloes  had  pro- 
vided the  party  with  beef  for  the  winter,  in  case 
they  met  with  no  further  supply,  they  now  set  to 
work,  heart  and  hand,  to  build  a  comfortable 
wigwam.  In  a  little  while  the  woody  promontory 
rang  with  the  unwonted  sound  of  the  axe.  Some 
of  its  lofty  trees  were  laid  low,  and  by  the  second 
evening  the  cabin  was  complete.  It  was  eight 
feet  wide,  and  eighteen  feet  long.  The  walls 
were  six  feet  high,  and  the  whole  was  covered 
with  buffalo  skins.  The  fireplace  was  in  the  cen- 
tre, and  the  smoke  found  its  way  out  by  a  hole  in 
the  roof. 

The  hunters  were  next  sent  out  to  procure  deer 
skins  for  garments,  moccasons,  and  other  pur- 
poses. They  made  the  mountains  echo  with  their 
rifles,  and,  in  the  course  of  two  days'  hunting, 
killed  twenty-eight  bighorns  and  black-tailed  deer. 

The  party  now  revelled  in  abundance.  After 
all  that  they  had  suffered  from  hunger,  cold,  fa- 
tigue, and  watchfulness  ;  after  all  their  perils 
from  treacherous  and  savage  men,  they  exulted 
in  the  snugness  and  security  of  their  isolated 
cabin,  hidden,  as  they  thought,  even  from  the 
prying  eyes  of  Indian  scouts,  and  stored  with  crea- 
ture comforts  ;  and  they  looked  forward  to  a  win- 
ter of  peace  and  quietness  ;  of  roasting,  and  boil- 
ing, and  broiling,  and  feasting  upon  venison,  and 
mountain  mutton,  and  bear's  meat,  and  marrow 
bones,  and  buffalo  humps,  and  other  hunter's 
dainties,  and  of  dosing  and  reposing  round  their 
fire,  and  gossiping  over  past  dangers  and  adven- 


408 


ASTORIA. 


tures,  and  telling  long  hunting  stories,  until 
spring  should  return  ;  when  they  would  make 
canoes  of  buffalo  skins  and  float  themselves  down 
the  river. 

From  such  halcyon  dreams  they  were  startled 
one  morning  at  daybreak,  by  a  savage  yell.  They 
started  up,  and  seized  their  rifles.  The  yell  was 
repeated  by  two  or  three  voices.  Cautiously  peep- 
ing out,  they  beheld,  to  their  dismay,  several  In- 
dian warriors  among  the  trees,  all  armed  and 
painted  in  warlike  style  ;  being  evidently  bent  on 
some  hostile  purpose. 

Miller  changed  countenance  as  he  regarded 
them.  "  We  are  in  trouble,"  said  he,  "  these  are 
some  of  the  rascally  Arapahays  that  robbed  me 
last  year."  Not  a  word  was  uttered  by  the  rest 
of  the  party,  but  they  silently  slung  their  powder 
horns  and  ball  pouches,  and  prepared  for  battle. 
M'Lellan.who  had  taken  his  gun  to  pieces  the  even- 
ing before,  put  it  together  in  all  haste.  He  pro- 
posed that  they  should  break  out  the  clay  from  be- 
tween the  logs,  so  as  to  be  able  to  fire  upon  the 
enemy. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  Stuart  ;  "  it  will  not  do  to 
show  fear  or  distrust  ;  we  must  first  hold  a  parley. 
Some  one  must  go  out  and  meet  them  as  a  friend. 

Who  was  to  undertake  the  task  ?  it  was  full  of 
peril,  as  the  envoy  might  be  shot  down  at  the 
threshold. 

"  The  leader  of  a  party,"  said  Miller,  "  always 
takes  the  advance." 

"  Good  !"  replied  Stuart  ;  "  I  am  ready."  He 
immediately  went  forth  ;  one  of  the  Canadians 
followed  him  ;  the  rest  of  the  party  remained  in 
garrison,  to  keep  the  savages  in  check. 

Stuart  advanced  holding  his  rifle  in  one  hand, 
and  extending  the  other  to  the  savage  that  appear- 
ed to  be  the  chief.  The  latter  stepped  forward 
and  took  it  ;  his  men  followed  his  example,  and 
all  shook  hands  with  Stuart,  in  token  of  friend- 
ship. They  now  explained  their  errand.  They 
were  a  war  party  of  Arapahay  braves.  Their  vil- 
lage lay  on  a  stream  several  days'  journey  to  the 
eastward.  It  had  been  attacked  and  ravaged  dur- 
ing their  absence,  by  a  band  of  Crows,  who  had 
carried  off  several  oi  their  women,  and  most  of 
their  horses.  They  were  in  quest  of  vengeance. 
For  sixteen  days  they  had  been  tracking  the  Crows 
about  the  mountains,  but  had  not  yet  come  upon 
them.  In  the  meantime  they  had  met  with 
scarcely  any  game,  and  were  half  famished. 
About  two  days  previously,  they  had  heard  the 
report  of  firearms  among  the  mountains,  and  on 
searching  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  had  come 
to  a  place  where  a  deer  had  been  killed.  They 
had  immediately  put  themselves  upon  the  track  of 
the  hunters,  and  by  following  it  up,  had  arrived 
at  the  cabin. 

Mr.  Stuart  now  invited  the  chief  and  another, 
who  appeared  to  be  his  lieutenant,  into  the  hut, 
but  made  signs  that  no  one  else  was  to  enter. 
The  rest  halted  at  the  door  ;  others  came  strag- 
gling up,  until  the  whole  party,  to  the  number  of 
twenty-three,  were  gathered  before  the  hut. 
They  were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows,  toma- 
hawks, and  scalping  knives,  and  some  few  with 
guns.  All  were  painted  and  dressed  for  war,  and 
had  a  wild  and  fierce  appearance.  Mr.  Miller 
recognized  among  them  some  of  the  very  fellows 
who  had  robbed  him  in  the  preceding  year  ;  and 
put  his  comrades  upon  their  guard.  Every  man 
stood  ready  to  resist  the  first  act  of  hostility  ;  the 
savages,  however,  conducted  themselves  peace- 
ably, and  showed  none  of  that  swaggering  arro- 
gance which  a  war  party  is  apt  to  assume. 


On  entering  the  hut  the  chief  and  his  lieutenant 
cast  a  wistful  look  at  the  rafters,  laden  with  veni- 
son and  buffalo  meat.  Mr.  Stuart  made  a  merit 
of  necessity,  and  invited  them  to  help  themselves. 
They  did  not  wait  to  be  pressed.  The  rafters 
were  soon  eased  of  their  burden  ;  venison  and 
beef  were  passed  out  to  the  crew  before  the  door, 
and  a  scene  of  gormandizing  commenced,  of 
which  few  can  have  an  idea,  who  have  not  wit- 
nessed the  gastronomic  powers  of  an  Indian,  after 
an  interval  of  fasting.  This  was  kept  up  through- 
out the  day  ;  they  paused  now  and  then,  it  is 
true,  for  a  brief  interval,  but  only  to  return  to  the 
charge  with  renewed  ardor.  The  chief  and  the 
lieutenant  surpassed  all  the  rest  in  the  vigor  and 
perseverance  of  their  attacks  ;  as  if,  from  their 
station,  they  were  bound  to  signalize  themselves 
in  all  onslaughts.  Mr.  Stuart  kept  them  well 
supplied  with  choice  bits,  for  it  was  his  policy  to 
overfeed  them,  and  keep  them  from  leaving  the  hut, 
where  they  served  as  hostages  for  the  good  con- 
duct of  their  followers.  Once,  only,  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  did  the  chief  sally  forth.  Mr.  Stuart 
and  one  of  his  men  accompanied  him,  armed  with 
their  rifles,  but  without  betraying  any  distrust. 
The  chieftain  soon  returned,  and  renewed  his  at- 
tack upon  the  larder.  In  a  word,  he  and  his 
worthy  coadjutor,  the  lieutenant,  ate  until  they 
were  both  stupefied. 

Toward  the  evening  the  Indians  made  their 
preparations  for  the  night  according  to  the  prac- 
tice oi  war  parties.  Those  outside  of  the  hut  threw 
up  two  breastworks,  into  which  they  retired  at  a 
tolerably  early  hour,  and  slept  like  overfed 
hounds.  As  to  the  chief  and  his  lieutenant,  they 
passed  the  night  in  the  hut,  in  the  course  of 
which,  they,  two  or  three  times,  got  up  to  eat. 
The  travellers  took  turns,  one  at  a  time,  to  mount 
guard  until  the  morning. 

Scarce  had  the  day  dawned,  when  the  gorman- 
dizing was  renewed  by  the  whole  band,  and  carried 
on  with  surprising  vigor  until  ten  o'clock,  when 
all  prepared  to  depart.  They  had  six  days'  jour- 
ney yet  to  make,  they  said,  before  they  should 
come  up  with  the  Crows,  who  they  understood 
were  encamped  on  a  river  to  the  northward. 
Their  way  lay  through  a  hungry  country  where 
there  was  no  game  ;  they  would,  moreover,  have 
but  little  time  to  hunt  ;  they,  therefore,  craved 
a  small  supply  of  provisions  for  their  journey. 
Mr.  Stuart  again  invited  them  to  help  themselves. 
They  did  so  with  keen  forethought,  loading  them- 
selves with  the  choicest  parts  of  the  meat,  and 
leaving  the  late  plenteous  larder  far  gone  in  a 
consumption.  Their  next  request  was  for  a  sup- 
ply of  ammunition,  having  guns,  but  no  powder 
and  ball.  They  promised  to  pay  magnificently 
out  of  the  spoils  of  their  foray.  "  We  are  poor 
now,"  said  they,  "  and  are  obliged  to  go  on  toot, 
but  we  shall  soon  come  back  laden  with  booty, 
and  all  mounted  on  horseback,  with  scalps  hang- 
ing at  our  bridles.  We  will  then  give  each  of  you 
a  horse  to  keep  you  from  being  tired  on  your  jour- 
ney." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Stuart,  "  when  you  bring  the 
horses,  you  shall  have  the  ammunition,  but  not 
before."  The  Indians  saw  by  his  determined 
tone,  that  all  further  entreaty  would  be  unavail- 
ing, so  they  desisted,  with  a  good-humored  laugh, 
and  went  off  exceedingly  well  freighted,  both 
within  and  without,  promising  to  be  back  again 
in  the  course  of  a  fortnight. 

No  sooner  were  they  out  of  hearing,  than  the 
luckless  travellers  held  another  counsel.  The  se- 
curity of  their  cabin  was  at  an  end,  and  with  it  all 


ASTORIA. 


409 


their  dreams  ot  a  quiet  and  cosy  winter.  They 
were  between  two  fires.  On  one  side  were  their 
old  enemies,  the  Crows,  on  the  other  side,  the 
Arapahays,  no  less  dangerous  freebooters.  As 
to  the  moderation  oi  this  war  party,  they  consid- 
ered it  assumed,  to  put  them  off  their  guard 
against  some  more  favorable  opportunity  for  a 
surprisal.  It  was  determined,  therefore,  not  to 
await  their  return,  but  to  abandon,  with  all  speed, 
this  dangerous  neighborhood.  From  the  ac- 
counts of  their  recent  visitors,  they  were  led  to 
believe,  though  erroneously,  that  they  were  upon 
the  Quicourt,  or  Rapid  River.  They  proposed 
now  to  keep  along  it  to  its  confluence  with  the 
Missouri  ;  but,  should  they  be  prevented  by  the 
rigors  of  the  season  from  proceeding  so  far,  at 
least  to  reach  a  part  of  the  river  where  they  might 
be  able  to  construct  canoes  of  greater  strength 
and  durability  than  those  of  buffalo  skins. 

Accordingly,  on  the  I3th  of  December,  they 
bade  adieu,  with  many  a  regret,  to  their  comfort- 
able quarters,  where,  for  live  weeks,  they  had 
been  indulging  the  sweets  of  repose,  of  plenty, 
and  of  fancied  security.  They  were  still  accom- 
panied by  their  veteran  pack-horse,  which  the 
Arapahays  had  '  omitted  to  steal,  either  because 
they  intended  to  steal  him  on  their  return,  or  be- 
cause they  thought  him  not  worth  stealing. 


CHAPTER  L. 

THE  interval  of  comfort  and  repose  which  the 
party  had  enjoyed  in  their  wigwam,  rendered  the 
renewal  of  their  fatigues  intolerable  for  the  first 
two  or  three  days.  The  snow  lay  deep,  and  was 
slightly  frozen  on  the  surface,  but  not  sufficiently 
to  bear  their  weight.  Their  feet  became  sore  by 
breaking  through  the  crust,  and  their  limbs  weary 
by  floundering  on  without  firm  foothold.  So  ex- 
hausted and  dispirited  were  they, that  they  began  to 
think  it  would  be  better  to  remain  and  run  the  risk 
of  being  killed  by  the  Indians,  than  to  dragon  thus 
painfully,  with  the  probability  of  perishing  by  the 
way.  Their  miserable  horse  fared  no  better  than 
themselves,  having  for  the  first  day  or  two  no 
other  fodder  than  the  ends  of  willow  twigs,  and 
the  bark  of  the  cotton-wood  tree. 

They  all,  however,  appeared  to  gain  patience 
and  hardihood  as  they  proceeded,  and  for  four- 
teen days  kept  steadily  on,  making  a  distance  of 
about  three  hundred  and  thirty  miles.  For  some 
days  the  range  of  mountains  which  had  been  near 
to  their  wigwam  kept  parallel  to  the  river  at  no 
great  distance,  but  at  length  subsided  into  hills. 
Sometimes  they  found  the  river  bordered  with  al- 
luvial bottoms,  and  groves  with  cotton-wood  and 
willows  ;  sometimes  the  adjacent  country  was  na- 
ked and  barren.  In  one  place  it  ran  for  a  consid- 
erable distance  between  rocky  hills  and  promon- 
tories covered  with  cedar  and  pitch  pines,  and 
peopled  with  the  bighorn  and  the  mountain  deer  ; 
at  other  places  it  wandered  through  prairies  well 
stocked  with  buffaloes  and  antelopes.  As  they 
descended  the  course  of  the  river,  they  began  to 
perceive  the  ash  and  white  oak  here  and  there 
among  the  cotton-wood  and  willow  ;  and  at  length 
caught  a  sight  of  some  wild  horses  on  the  distant 
prairies. 

The  weather  was  various  ;  atone  time  the  snow 
lay  deep  ;  then  they  had  a  genial  day  or  two,  with 
the  mildness  and  serenity  of  autumn  ;  then, 
again,  the  frost  was  so  severe  that  the  river  was 
sufficiently  frozen  to  bear  them  upon  the  ice. 


During  the  last  three  clays  of  their  fortnight's 
travel,  however,  the  face  of  the  country  changed. 
The  timber  gradually  diminished,  until  they  could 
scarcely  find  fuel  sufficient  for  culinary  purposes. 
The  game  grew  more  and  more  scanty,  and, 
finally,  none  were  to  be  seen  but  a  few  miserable 
broken-down  buffalo  bulls,  not  worth  killing.  The 
snow  lay  fifteen  inches  deep,  and  made  the  tra- 
velling grievously  painful  and  toilsome.  At 
length,  they  came  to  an  immense  plain,  where  no 
vestige  of  timber  was  to  be  seen  ;  nor  a  single 
quadruped  to  enliven  the  desolate  landscape. 
Here,  then,  their  hearts  failed  them,  and  they  held 
another  consultation.  The  width  of  the  river, 
which  was  upward  of  a  mile,  its  extreme  shallow- 
ness,  the  frequency  of  quicksands,  and  various 
other  characteristics,  had  at  length  made  them 
sensible  of  their  errors  with  respect  to  it,  and  they 
now  came  to  the  correct  coclusion,  that  they  were 
on  the  banks  of  the  Platte  or  Shallow  River. 
What  were  they  to  do  ?  Pursue  its  course  to  the 
Missouri  ?  To  go  on  at  this  season  of  the  year 
seemed  dangerous  in  the  extreme.  There  was  no 
prospect  of  obtaining  either  food  or  firing.  The 
country  was  destitute  of  trees,  and  though  there 
might  be  drift-wood  along  the  river,  it  lay  too 
deep  beneath  the  snow  for  them  to  find  it. 

The  weather  was  threatening  a  change,  and  a 
snow-storm  on  these  boundless  wastes,  might 
prove  as  fatal  as  a  whirlwind  of  sand  on  an  Ara- 
bian desert.  After  much  dreary  deliberation,  it 
was  at  length  determined  to  retrace  their  three 
last  days'  journey  of  seventy-seven  miles,  to  a 
place  which  they  had  remarked  where  there  was 
a  sheltering  growth  of  forest  trees,  and  a  country 
abundant  in  game.  Here  they  would  once  more 
set  up  their  winter  quarters,  and  await  the  open- 
ing of  the  navigation  to  launch  themselves  in  ca- 
noes. 

Accordingly,  on  the  2/th  of  December,  they 
faced  about,  retraced  their  steps,  and  on  the  3oth, 
regained  the  part  of  the  river  in  question.  Here 
the  alluvial  bottom  was  from  one  to  two  miles 
wide,  and  thickly  covered  with  a  forest  of  cotton- 
wood  trees  ;  while  herds  of  buffalo  were  scattered 
about  the  neighboring  prairie,  several  of  which 
soon  fell  beneath  their  rifles. 

They  encamped  on  the  margin  of  the  river,  in 
a  grove  where  there  were  trees  large  enough  for 
canoes.  Here  they  put  up  a  shed  for  immediate 
shelter,  and  immediately  proceeded  to  erect  a  hut. 
New  Year's  day  dawned  when,  as  yet,  but  one 
wall  of  their  cabin  was  completed  ;  the  genial 
and  jovial  day,  however,  was  not  permitted  to 
pass  uncelebrated,  even  by  this  weather-beaten 
crew  of  wanderers.  All  work  was  suspended,  ex- 
cept that  of  roasting  and  boiling.  The  choicest  of 
the  buffalo  meat,  with  tongues,  and  humps,  and 
marrow  bones,  were  devoured  in  quantities  that 
would  astonish  any  one  that  has  not  lived  among 
hunters  or  Indians  ;  and  as  an  extra  regale,  having 
no  tobacco  left,  they  cut  up  an  old  tobacco  pouch, 
still  redolent  with  the  potent  herb,  and  smoked  it 
in  honor  of  the  day.  Thus  for  a  time,  in  present 
revelry,  however  uncouth,  they  forgot  all  past 
troubles  and  all  anxieties  about  the  future,  and 
their  forlorn  wigwam  echoed  to  the  sound  of  gay- 
ety. 

The  next  day  they  resumed  their  labors, and  by 
the  6th  of  the  month  it  was  complete.  They 
soon  killed  abundance  of  buffalo,  and  again  laid 
in  a  stock  of  winter  provisions. 

The  party  were  more  fortunate  in  this  their  sec- 
ond cantonment.  The  winter  passed  away  without 
any  Indian  visitors,  and  the  game  continued  to  be 


410 


ASTORIA. 


plenty  in  the  neighborhood.  They  felled  two 
large  trees,  and  shaped  them  into  canoes  ;  and, 
as  the  spring  opened,  and  a  thaw  of  several  days' 
continuance  melted  the  ice  in  the  river,  they  made 
every  preparation  for  embarking.  On  the  8th  of 
March  they  launched  forth  in  their  canoes,  but  soon 
found  that  the  river  had  not  depth  sufficient  even 
for  such  slender  barks.  It  expanded  into  a  wide 
but  extremely  shallow  stream,  with  many  sand- 
bars, and  occasionally  various  channels.  They 
got  one  of  their  canoes  a  few  miles  down  it,  with 
extreme  difficulty,  sometimes  wading  and  drag- 
ging it  over  the  shoals  ;  at  length  they  had  to 
abandon  the  attempt,  and  to  resume  their  journey 
on  foot,  aided  by  their  faithful  old  pack-horse, 
who  had  recruited  strength  during  the  repose  of 
the  winter. 

The  weather  delayed  them  for  a  few  clays,  hav- 
ing suddenly  become  more  rigorous  than  it  had 
been  at  any  time  during  the  winter  ;  but  on  the 
2oth  of  March  they  were  again  on  their  journey. 

In  two  days  they  arrived  at  the  vast  naked 
prairie,  the  wintry  aspect  of  which  had  caused 
them,  in  December,  to  pause  and  turn  back.  It 
was  now  clothed  in  the  early  verdure  of  spring, 
and  plentifully  stocked  with  game.  Still,  when 
obliged  to  bivouac  on  its  bare  surface,  without 
any  shelter,  and  by  a  scanty  fire  of  dry  buffalo 
dung,  they  found  the  night  blasts  piercing  cold. 
On  one  occasion  a  herd  of  buffalo  straying  near 
their  evening  camp,  they  killed  three  of  them 
merely  for  their  hides,  wherewith  to  make  a 
shelter  for  the  night. 

They  continued  on  for  upward  of  a  hundred 
miles  ;  with  vast  prairies  extending  before  them 
as  they  advanced  ;  sometimes  diversified  by  un- 
dulating hills,  but  destitute  of  trees.  In  one  place 
they  saw  a  gang  of  sixty-five  wild  horses,  but  as 
to  the  buffaloes,  they  seemed  absolutely  to  cover 
the  country.  Wild  geese  abounded,  and  they 
passed  extensive  swamps  that  were  alive  with  in- 
numerable flocks  of  water-fowl,  among  which 
were  a  few  swans,  but  an  endless  variety  of  ducks. 

The  river  continued  a  winding  course  to  the 
east-northeast,  nearly  a  mile  in  width,  but  too 
shallow  to  float  even  an  empty  canoe.  The  coun- 
try spread  out  into  a  vast  level  plain,  bounded  by 
the  horizon  alone,  excepting  to  the  north,  where 
a  line  of  hills  seemed  like  a  long  promontory, 
stretching  into  the  bosom  of  the  ocean.  The 
dreary  sameness  of  the  prairie  wastes  began  to 
grow  extremely  irksome.  The  travellers  longed 
for  the  sight  of  a  forest  or  grove,  or  single  tree, 
to  break  the  level  uniformity,  and  began  to  notice 
every  object  that  gave  reason  to  hope  they  were 
drawing  toward  the  end  of  this  weary  wilderness. 
Thus  the  occurrence  of  a  particular  kind  of  grass 
was  hailed  as  a  proof  that  they  could  not  be  far 
frotn  the  bottoms  of  the  Missouri  ;  and  they  were 
rejoiced  at  putting  up  several  prairie  hens,  a  kind 
of  grouse  seldom  found  far  in  the  interior.  Jn 
picking  up  drift-wood  for  fuel,  also,  they  found 
on  some  pieces  the  mark  of  an  axe,  which  caused 
much  speculation  as  to  the  time  when  and  the 
persons  by  whom  the  trees  had  been  felled.  Thus 
they  went  on,  like  sailors  at  sea,  who  perceive  in 
every  floating  weed  and  wandering  bird,  harbin- 
gers of  the  wished-for  land. 

By  the  close  of  the  month  the  weather  became 
very  mild,  and,  heavily  burdened  as  they  were, 
they  found  the  noontide  temperature  uncomforta- 
bly warm.  On  the  3oth,  they  came  to  three  de- 
.serted  hunting  camps,  either  of  Pawnees  or  Ot- 
toes,  about  which  were  buffalo  skulls  in  all  di- 
rections ;  and  the  frames  on  which  the  hides  had 


been  stretched  and  cured.  They  had  apparently 
been  occupied  the  preceding  autumn. 

For  several  days  they  kept  patiently  on,  watch- 
ing every  sign  that  might  give  them  an  idea  as  to 
where  they  were,  and  how  near  to  the  banks  of 
the  Missouri. 

Though  there  were  numerous  traces  of  hunting 
parties  and  encampments,  they  were  not  of  recent 
date.  The  country  seemed  deserted.  The  only 
human  beings  they  met  with  were  three  Pawnee 
squaws,  in  a  hut  in  the  midst  of  a  deserted  camp. 
Their  people  had  all  gone  to  the  south,  in  pursuit 
of  the  buffalo,  and  had  left  these  poor  women  be- 
hind, being  too  sick  and  infirm  to  travel. 

It  is  a  common  practice  with  the  Pawnees,  and 
probably  with  other  roving  tribes,  when  depart- 
ing on  a  distant  expedition,  which  will  not  admit 
of  incumbrance  or  delay,  to  leave  their  aged  and 
infirm  with  a  supply  of  provisions  sufficient  for  a 
temporary  subsistence.  When  this  is  exhausted 
they  must  perish  ;  though  sometimes  their  suffer- 
ings are  abridged  by  hostile  prowlers  who  may 
visit  the  deserted  camp. 

The  poor  squaws  in  question  expected  some 
such  fate  at  the  hands  of  the  white  strangers,  and 
though  the  latter  accosted  them  in  the  kindest 
manner,  and  made  them  presents  of  dried  buffalo 
meat,  it  was  impossible  to  soothe  their  alarm  or 
get  any  information  from  them. 

The  first  landmark  by  which  the  travellers 
were  enabled  to  conjecture  their  position  with 
any  degree  of  confidence,  was  an  island  about 
seventy  miles  in  length,  which  they  presumed  to 
be  Grand  Isle.  If  so,  they  were  within  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  miles  of  the  Missouri.  They  kept 
on,  therefore,  with  renewed  spirit,  and  at  the  end 
of  three  days  met  with  an  Otto  Indian,  by  whom 
they  were  confirmed  in  their  conjecture.  They 
learnt  at  the  same  time  another  piece  of  infor- 
mation,of  an  uncomfortable  nature.  According 
to  his  account,  there  was  war  between  the  United 
States  and  England,  and  in  fact  it  had  existed  for 
a  whole  year,  during  which  time  they  had  been 
beyond  the  reach  of  all  knowledge  of  the  affairs 
of  the  civilized  world. 

The  Otto  conducted  the  travellers  to  his  village, 
situated  a  short  distance  from  the  banks  of  the 
Platte.  Here  they  were  delighted  to  meet  with 
two  white  men,  Messrs.  Dornin  and  Roi,  Indian 
traders  recently  from  St.  Louis.  Of  these  they 
had  a  thousand  inquiries  to  make  concerning  all 
affairs,  foreign  and  domestic,  during  their  year  of 
sepulture  in  the  wilderness  ;  and  especially  about 
the  events  of  the  existing  war. 

They  now  prepared  to  abandon  their  weary 
travel  by  land,  and  to  embark  upon  the  water.  A 
bargain  was  made  with  Mr.  Dornin,  who  engaged 
to  furnish  them  with  a  canoe  and  provisions  ior 
the  voyage,  in  exchange  for  their  venerable  and 
well-tried  fellow-traveller,  the  old  Snake  horse. 

Accordingly,  in  a  couple  of  days,  the  Indians 
employed  by  that  gentleman  constructed  for  them 
a  canoe  twenty  feet  long,  four  feet  wide,  and 
eighteen  inches  deep.  The  frame  was  of  poles 
and  willow  twigs,  on  which  were  stretched  five 
elk  and  buffalo  hides,  sewed  together  with  sin- 
ews, and  the  seams  payed  with  unctuous  mud. 
In  this  they  embarked  at  an  early  hour  on  the 
i6th  of  April,  and  drifted  down  ten  miles  with  the 
stream,  when  the  wind  being  high  they  encamp- 
ed, and  set  to  work  to  make  oars,  which  they  had 
not  been  able  to  procure  at  the  Indian  village. 

Once  more  afloat,  they  went  merrily  down  the 
stream,  and  after  making  thirty-five  miles, 
emerged  into  the  broad  turbid  current  oi  the  Mis- 


ASTORIA. 


411 


souri.  Here  they  were  borne  along  briskly  by 
the  rapid  stream,  though,  by  the  time  their  fragile 
bark  had  floated  a  couple  of  hundred  miles,  its 
frame  began  to  show  the  effects  of  the  voyage. 
Luckily  they  came  to  the  deserted  wintering 
place  of  some  hunting  party,  where  they  found 
two  old  wooden  canoes.  Taking  possession  of 
the  largest,  they  again  committed  themselves  to 
the  current,  and  after  dropping  down  fifty-five 
miles  further,  arrived  safely  at  Fort  Osage. 

Here  they  found  Lieutenant  Brownson  still  in 
command  ;  the  officer  who  had  given  the  expedi- 
tion a  hospitable  reception  on  its  way  up  the 
river,  eighteen  months  previously.  He  received 
this  remnant  of  the  party  with  a  cordial  welcome, 
and  endeavored  in  every  way  to  promote  their 
comfort  and  enjoyment  during  their  sojourn  at  the 
fort.  The  greatest  luxury  they  met  with  on  their 
return  to  the  abode  of  civilized  man,  was  bread, 
not  having  tasted  any  tor  nearly  a  year. 

Their  stay  at  Fort  Osage  was  but  short.  On 
re-embarking  they  were  furnished  with  an  ample 
supply  of  provisions  by  the  kindness  of  Lieutenant 
Brownson,  and  performed  the  rest  of  their  voyage 
without  adverse  circumstance.  On  the  3Oth  of 
April  they  arrived  in  perfect  health  and  fine  spir- 
its at  St.  Louis,  having  been  ten  months  in  per- 
forming this  perilous  expedition  from  Astoria. 
Their  return  caused  quite  a  sensation  at  the  place, 
bringing  the  first  intelligence  of  the  fortune  of 
Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party,  in  their  adventurous 
route  across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  of  the  new 
establishment  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

IT  is  now  necessary,  in  linking  together  the 
parts  of  this  excursive  narrative,  that  we  notice 
the  proceedings  of  Mr.  Astor,  in  support  of  his 
great  undertaking.  His  project  with  respect  to 
the  Russian  establishments  along  the  northwest 
coast,  had  been  diligently  prosecuted.  The 
agent  sent  by  him  to  St.  Petersburgh,  to  negotiate 
in  his  name  as  president  of  the  American  Fur 
Company,  had,  under  sanction  of  the  Russian 
Government,  made  a  provisional  agreement  with 
the  Russian  company. 

By  this  agreement,  which  was  ratified  by  Mr. 
Astor  in  1813,  the  two  companies  bound  them- 
selves not  to  interfere  with  each  other's  trading 
and  hunting  grounds,  nor  to  furnish  arms  and 
ammunition  to  the  Indians.  They  were  to  act  in 
concert,  also,  against  all  interlopers,  and  to  suc- 
cor each  other  in  case  of  danger.  The  American 
company  was  to  have  the  exclusive  right  of  sup- 
plying the  Russian  posts  with  goods  and  neces- 
saries, receiving  peltries  in  payment  at  stated 
prices.  They  were  also,  if  so  requested  by  the  Rus- 
sian governor,  to  convey  the  furs  of  the  Russian 
company  to  Canton,  sell  them  on  commission, 
and  bring  back  the  proceeds,  at  such  freight  as 
might  be  agreed  on  at  the  time.  This  agreement 
was  to  continue  in  operation  four  years,  and  to 
be  renewable  for  a  similar  term,  unless  some  un- 
foreseen contingency  should  render  a  modification 
necessary. 

It  was  calculated  to  be  of  great  service  to  the 
infant  establishment  at  Astoria  ;  dispelling  the 
fears  of  hostile  rivalry  on  the  part  of  the  foreign 
companies  in  its  neighborhood,  and  giving  a  for- 
midable blow  to  the  irregular  trade  along  the 
coast.  It  was  also  the  intention  of  Mr.  Astor  to 
have  coasting  vessels  oi  his  own,  at  Astoria,  of 


small  tonnage  and  draft  of  water,  fitted  for  coast- 
ing service.  These,  having  a  place  of  shelter  and 
deposit,  could  ply  about  the  coast  in  short  voy- 
ages, in  favorable  weather,  and  would  have  vast 
advantage  over  chance  ships,  which  must  make 
long  voyages,  maintain  numerous  crews,  and 
could  only  approach  the  coast  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year.  He  hoped,  therefore,  gradually,  to 
make  Astoria  the  great  emporium  of  the  Ameri- 
can fur  trade  in  the  Pacific,  and  the  nucleus  of  a 
powerful  American  state.  Unfortunately  for 
these  sanguine  anticipations,  before  Mr.  Astor 
had  ratified  the  agreement,  as  above  stated,  war 
broke  out  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain.  He  perceived  at  once  the  peril  of  the 
case.  The  harbor  of  New  York  would  doubtless 
be  blockaded,  and  the  departure  of  the  annual 
supply  ship  in  the  autumn  prevented  ;  or,  if  she 
should  succeed  in  getting  out  to  sea,  she  might 
be  captured  on  her  voyage. 

In  this  emergency,  he  wrote  to  Captain  Sowle, 
commander  of  the  Beaver.  The  letter,  which 
was  addressed  to  him  at  Canton,  directed  him  to 
proceed  to  the  factory  at  the  mouth  of  the  Colum- 
bia, with  such  articles  as  the  establishment  might 
need  ;  and  to  remain  there,  subject  to  the  orders 
of  Mr.  Hunt,  should  that  gentleman  be  in  com- 
mand there. 

The  war  continued.  No  tidings  had  yet 
been  received  from  Astoria  ;  the  dispatches  hav- 
ing been  delayed  by  the  misadventure  of  Mr.  Reed 
at  the  falls  of  the  Columbia,  and  the  unhorsing  of 
Mr.  Stuart  by  the  Crows  among  the  mountains. 
A  painful  uncertainty,  also,  prevailed  about  Mr. 
Hunt  and  his  party.  Nothing  had  been  heard  of 
them  since  their  departure  from  the  Arickara  vil- 
lage ;  Lisa,  who  parted  from  them  there,  had  pre- 
dicted their  destruction  ;  and  some  of  the  traders 
of  the  Northwest  Company  had  actually  spread  a 
rumor  of  their  having  been  cut  off  by  the  Indians. 
It  was  a  hard  trial  of  the  courage  and  means 
of  an  individual,  to  have  to  fit  out  another  costly 
expedition,  where  so  much  had  already  been  ex- 
pended, so  much  uncertainty  prevailed,  and 
where  the  risk  of  loss  was  so  greatly  enhanced, 
that  no  insurance  could  be  effected. 

In  spite  of  all  these  discouragements,  Mr.  Astor 
determined  to  send  another  ship  to  the  relief  of 
the  settlement.  He  selected  for  this  purpose  a 
vessel  called  the  Lark,  remarkable  for  her  fast 
sailing.  The  disordered  state  of  the  times,  how- 
ever, caused  such  a  delay,  that  February  arrived, 
while  the  vessel  was  yet  lingering  in  port. 

At  this  juncture  Mr.  Astor  learnt  that  the 
Northwest  Company  were  preparing  to  send  out 
an  armed  ship  of  twenty  guns,  called  the  Isaac 
Todd,  to  form  an  establishment  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia.  These  tidings  gave  him  great 
uneasiness.  A  considerable  proportion  of  the 
persons  in  his  employ  were  Scotchmen  and  Cana- 
dians, and  several  of  them  had  been  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Northwest  Company.  Should  Mr. 
Hunt  have  failed  to  arrive  at  Astoria,  the  whole 
establishment  would  be  under  the  control  of  Mr. 
M'Dougal,  of  whose  fidelity  he  had  received  very 
disparaging  accounts  from  Captain  Thorn.  The 
British  Government,  also,  might  deem  it  worth 
while  to  send  a  force  against  the  establishment, 
having  been  urged  to  do  so  sometime  previously, 
by  the  Northwest  Company. 

Under  all  these  circumstances,'  Mr.  Astor 
wrote  to  Mr.  Monroe,  then  Secretary  of  State, 
requesting  protection  from  the  Government  of  the 
United  States.  He  represented  the  importance 
of  this  settlement,  in  a  commercial  point  of  view, 


412 


ASTORIA. 


and  the  shelter  it  might  afford  to  the  American 
vessels  in  those  seas.  All  he  asked  was,  that  the 
American  Government  would  throw  forty  or  fifty' 
men  into  the  fort  at  his  establishment,  which 
would  be  sufficient  for  its  defence,  until  he  could 
send  reinforcements  overland. 

He  waited  in  vain  for  a  reply  to  his  letter,  the 
Government,  no  doubt,  being  engrossed  at  the 
time,  by  an  overwhelming  crowd  of  affairs.  The 
month  of  March  arrived,  and  the  Lark  was  order- 
ed by  Mr.  Astor  to  put  to  sea.  The  officer  who 
was  to  command  her  shrunk  from  his  engage- 
ment, and  in  the  exigency  of  the  moment  she  was 
given  in  charge  to  Mr.  Northrop,  the  mate.  Mr. 
Nicholas  G.  Ogden,  a  gentleman  on  whose  tal- 
ents and  integrity  the  highest  reliance  could  be 
placed,  sailed  as  supercargo.  The  Lark  put  to 
sea  in  the  beginning  of  March,  1813. 

By  this  opportunity  Mr.  Astor  wrote  to  Mr. 
Hunt,  as  head  of  the  establishment  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Columbia,  for  he  would  not  allow  himself 
to  doubt  of  his  welfare.  "  I  always  think  you  are 
well,"  said  he,  "  and  that  I  shall  see  you  again, 
which  heaven,  I  hope,  will  grant." 

He  warned  him  to  be  on  his  guard  against 
any  attempts  to  surprise  the  post  ;  suggesting  the 
probability  of  armed  hostility  on  the  part  of  the 
Northwest  Company,  and  expressing  his  indigna- 
tion at  the  ungrateful  returns  made  by  that  as- 
sociation for  his  frank  and  open  conduct,  and  ad- 
vantageous overtures.  "Were  I  on  the  spot, " 
said  he,  "  and  had  the  management  of  affairs,  I 
would  defy  them  all  ;  but,  as  it  is,  everything  de- 
pends upon  you  and  your  friends  about  you.  Our 
enterprise  is  grand,  and  deserves  success,  and  I 
hope  in  God  it  will  meet  it.  If  my  object  was 
merely  gain  of  money,  I  should  say,  think  whether 
it  is  best  to  save  what  we  can,  and  abandon  the 
place  ;  but  the  very  idea  is  like  a  dagger  to  my 
heart."  This  extract  is  sufficient  to  show  the 
spirit  and  the  views  which  actuated  Mr.  Astor  in 
this  great  undertaking. 

Week  after  week  and  month  after  month 
elapsed,  without  anything  to  dispel  the  painful  in- 
certitude that  hung  over  every  part  of  this  enter- 
prise. Though  a  man  of  resolute  spirit,  and  not 
easily  cast  down,  the  dangers  impending  over 
this  darling  scheme  of  his  ambition,  had  a  grad- 
ual effect  upon  the  spirits  of  Mr.  Astor.  He  was 
sitting  one  gloomy  evening  by  his  window  revolv- 
ing over  the  loss  of  the  Tonquin,  and  the  fate  of 
her  unfortunate  crew,  and  fearing  that  some 
equally  tragical  calamity  might  have  befallen  the 
adventurers  across  the  mountains,  when  the  even- 
ing newspaper  was  brought  to  him.  The  first 
paragraph  that  caught  his  eye,  announced  the  ar- 
rival of  Mr.  Stuart  and  his  party  at  St.  Louis, 
with  intelligence  that  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  compan- 
ions had  effected  their  perilous  expediton  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia.  This  was  a  gleam  of 
sunshine  that  for  a  time  dispelled  every  cloud, 
and  he  now  looked  forward  with  sanguine  hope 
to  the  accomplishment  of  all  his  plans. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

THE  course  of  our  narrative  now  takes  us  back 
to  the  regions  beyond  the  mountains,  to  dispose  of 
the  parties  that  set  out  from  Astoria  in  company 
with  Mr.  Robert  Stuart,  and  whom  he  left  on  the 
banks  of  the  Wallah- Wallah.  Those  parties  like- 
wise separated  from  each  other  shortly  after  his 
departure,  proceeding  to  their  respective  destina- 


tions, but  agreeing  to  meet  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Wallah-WTallah,  about  the  beginning  of  June  in 
the  following  year,  with  such  peltries  as  they 
should  have  collected  in  the  interior,  so  as  to  con- 
voy each  other  through  the  dangerous  passes  of 
the  Columbia. 

Mr.  David  Stuart,  one  of  the  partners,  pro- 
ceeded with  his  men  to  the  post  already  establish- 
ed by  him  at  the  mouth  of  the  Oakinagan  ;  hav- 
ing furnished  this  with  goods  and  ammunition, 
he  proceeded  three  hundred  miles  up  that  river, 
where  he  established  another  post  in  a  good  trad- 
ing neighborhood. 

Mr.  Clarke,  another  partner,  conducted  his  lit- 
tle band  up  Lewis  River  to  the  mouth  of  a  small 
stream  coming  in  from  the  north,  to  which  the 
Canadians  gave  the  name  of  the  Pavion.  Here 
he  found  a  village  or  encampment  of  forty  huts 
or  tents,  covered  with  mats,  and  inhabited  by 
Nez  Perces,  or  pierced-nose  Indians,  as  they  are 
called  by  the  traders  ;  but  Chipunnish,  as  they  are 
called  by  themselves.  They  are  a  hardy,  labor- 
ious, and  somewhat  knavish  race,  who  lead  a 
precarious  life,  fishing  and  digging  roots  during 
the  summer  and  autumn,  hunting  the  deer  on 
snow  shoes  during  the  winter,  and  traversing  the 
Rocky  Mountains  in  the  spring,  to  trade  for  buffa- 
lo skins  with  the  hunting  tribes  of  the  Missouri. 
In  these  migrations  they  are  liable  to  be  waylaid 
and  attacked  by  the  Blackfeet,  and  other  warlike 
and  predatory  tribes,  and  driven  back  across  the 
mountains  with  the  loss  of  their  horses,  and  of 
many  of  their  comrades. 

A  life  of  this  unsettled  and  precarious  kind  is 
apt  to  render  men  selfish,  and  such  Mr.  Clarke 
found  the  inhabitants  of  this  village,  who  were 
deficient  in  the  usual  hospitality  of  Indians  ;  part- 
ing with  everything  with  extreme  reluctance,  and 
showing  no  sensibility  to  any  act  of  kindness. 
At  the  time  of  his  arrival  they  were  all  occupied 
in  catching  and  curing  salmon.  The  men  were 
stout,  robust,  active,  and  good  looking,  and  the 
women  handsomer  than  those  of  the  tribes  nearer 
the  coast. 

It  was  the  plan  of  Mr.  Clarke  to  lay  up  his 
boats  here,  and  proceed  by  land  to  his  place  of 
destination,  which  was  among  the  Spokan  tribe 
of  Indians,  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  dis- 
tant. He  accordingly  endeavored  to  purchase 
horses  for  the  journey,  but  in  this  he  had  to  con- 
tend with  the  sordid  disposition  of  these  people. 
They  asked  high  prices  for  their  horses,  and  were 
so  difficult  to  deal  with,  that  Mr.  Clarke  was  de- 
tained seven  days  among  them  before  he  could 
procure  a  sufficient  number.  During  that  time 
he  was  annoyed  by  repeated  pilferings,  for  which 
he  could  get  no  redress.  The  chief  promised  to 
recover  the  stolen  articles  ;  but  failed  to  do  so, 
alleging  that  the  thieves  belonged  to  a  distant 
tribe,  and  had  made  off  with  their  booty.  With 
this  excuse  Mr.  Clarke  was  fain  to  content  him- 
self, though  he  laid  up  in  his  heart  a  bitter  grudge 
against  the  whole  pierced-nose  race  which  as  will 
be  found  he  took  occasion  subsequently  to  gratify 
in  a  signal  manner. 

Having  made  arrangements  for  his  departure, 
Mr.  Clarke  laid  up  his  barge  and  canoes  in  a 
sheltered  place,  on  the  banks  of  a  small  bay, 
overgrown  with  shrubs  and  willows,  confiding 
them  to  the  care  of  the  Nez  Perce  chief,  who,  on 
being  promised  an  ample  compensation,  engaged 
to  have  a  guardian  eye  upon  them  ;  then  mount- 
ing his  steed,  and  putting  himself  at  the  head  of 
his  little  caravan,  he  shook  the  dust  off  his  feet  as 
he  turned  his  back  upon  this  village  of  rogues 


ASTORIA. 


and  hard  dealers.  We  shall  not  follow  him  mi- 
nutely in  his  journey;  which  lay  att  imes  over  steep 
and  rocky  hills,  and  among  crags  nd  precipices  ; 
at  other  times  over  vast  naked  and  sunburnt 
plains,  abounding  with  rattlesnakes,  in  traversing 
which,  both  men  and  horses  suffered  intolerably 
from  heat  and  thirst.  The  place  on  which  he 
fixed  for  a  trading  post,  was  a  fine  point  of  land, 
at  the  junction  of  the  Pointed  Heart  and  Spokan 
Rivers.  His  establishment  was  intended  to  com- 
pete with  a  trading  post  of  the  Northwest  Com- 
pany, situated  at  no  great  distance,  and  to  rival 
it  in  the  trade  with  the  Spokan  Indians  ;  as  well 
as  with  the  Cootonais  and  Flatheads.  In  this 
neighborhood  we  shall  leave  him  for  the  present. 

Mr.  M'Kenzie,  who  conducted  the  third  party 
from  the  Wallah- Wallah,  navigated  tor  several 
days  up  the  south  branch  of  the  Columbia,  named 
the  Camoenum  by  the  natives,  but  commonly  call- 
ed Lewis  River,  in  honor  of  the  first  explorer. 
Wandering  bands  of  various  tribes  were  seen 
along  this  river,  travelling  in  various  directions  ; 
for  the  Indians  generally  are  restless,  roving  be- 
ings, continually  intent  on  enterprises  of  war, 
traffic,  and  hunting.  Some  of  these  people  were 
driving  large  gangs  of  horses,  as  if  to  a  distant 
market.  Having  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Shahaptan,  he  ascended  some  distance  up  that 
river,  and  established  his  trading  post  upon  its 
banks.  This  appeared  to  be  a  great  thoroughfare 
for  the  tribes  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  falls 
of  the  Columbia,  in  their  expeditions  to  make  war 
upon  the  tribes  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  to  hunt 
buffalo  on  the  plains  beyond,  or  to  traffic  for  roots 
and  buffalo  robes.  It  was  the  season  of  migra- 
tion, and  the  Indians  from  various  distant  parts 
were  passing  and  repassing  in  great  numbers. 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  now  detached  a  small  band,  un- 
der the  conduct  of  Mr.  John  Reed,  to  visit  the 
caches  made  by  Mr.  Hunt  at  the  Caldron  Linn, 
and  to  bring  the  contents  to  his  post;  as  he  de- 
pended in  some  measure  on  them  ior  his  supplies 
of  goods  and  ammunition.  They  had  not  been 
gone  a  week  when  two  Indians  arrived  of  the  Pal- 
latapalla  tribe,  who  live  upon  a  river  of  the  same 
name.  These  communicated  the  unwelcome  in- 
telligence that  the  caches  had  been  robbed.  They 
said  that  some  oi  their  tribe  had,  in  the  course  of 
the  preceding  spring,  been  across  the  mountains 
which  separated  them  from  Snake  River,  and  had 
traded  horses  with  the  Snakes  in  exchange  for 
blankets,  robes,  and  goods  ol  various  descriptions. 
These  articles  the  Snakes  had  procured  from 
caches  to  which  they  were  guided  by  some  white 
men  who  resided  among  them,  and  who  after- 
ward accompanied  them  across  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. This  intelligence  was  extremely  perplex- 
ing to  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  but  the  truth  ol  part  of  it  was 
confirmed  by  the  two  Indians,  who  brought  them 
an  English  saddle  and  bridle,  which  was  recog- 
nized as  having  belonged  to  Mr.  Crooks.  The 
perfidy  of  the  white  men  who  revealed  the  secret  of 
the  caches,  was,  however,  perfectly  inexplicable. 
We  shall  presently  account  for  it  in  narrating  the 
expedition  of  Mr.  Reed. 

That  worthy  Hibernian  proceeded  on  his  mis- 
sion with  his  usual  alacrity.  His  forlorn  travels 
of  the  preceding  winter  had  made  him  acquainted 
with  the  topography  of  the  country,  and  he  reach- 
ed Snake  River  without  any  material  difficulty. 
Here  in  an  encampment  of  the  natives,  he  met 
with  six  white  men,  wanderers  from  the  main  ex- 
pedition of  Mr.  Hunt,  who,  after  having  had  their 
respective  shares  of  adventures  and  mishaps,  had 
fortunately  come  together  at  this  place.  Three  of 


these  men  were  Turcotte,  La  Chapelle,  and  Fran- 
cis Landry  ;  the  three  Canadian  voyageurs,  who, 
it  may  be  recollected,  had  left  Mr.  Crooks  in  Feb- 
ruary, in  the  neighborhood  of  Snake  River,  being 
dismayed  by  the  increasing  hardships  of  the  jour- 
ney, and  fearful  of  perishing  of  hunger.  They 
had  returned  to  a  Snake  encampment,  where  they 
passed  the  residue  of  the  winter. 

Early  in  the  spring,  being  utterly  destitute,  and 
in  great  extremity,  and  having  worn  out  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  Snakes,  they  determined  to  avail 
themselves  of  the  buried  treasures  within  their 
knowledge.  They  accordingly  informed  the  Snake 
chieftains  that  they  knew  where  a  great  quantity 
of  goods  had  been  left  in  caches,  enough  to  enrich 
the  whole  tribe  ;  and  offered  to  conduct  them  to 
the  place,  on  condition  of  being  rewarded  with 
horses  and  provisions.  The  chieftains  pledged 
their  faith  and  honor  as  great  men  and  Snakes, 
and  the  three  Canadians  conducted  them  to  the 
place  of  deposit  at  the  Caldron  Linn.  This  is  the 
way  that  the  savages  got  knowledge  of  the  caches, 
and  not  by  following  the  tracks  of  wolves,  as  Mr. 
Stuart  had  supposed.  Never  did  money  diggers 
turn  up  a  miser's  hoard  with  more  eager  delight 
than  did  the  savages  lay  open  the  treasures  of  the 
caches.  Blankets  and  robes  ;  brass  trinkets  and 
blue  beads  were  drawn  forth  with  chuckling  ex- 
ultation, and  long  strips  of  scarlet  cloth  produced 
yells  of  ecstasy. 

The  rifling  of  the  caches  effected  a  change  in 
the  fortunes  and  deportment  of  the  whole  party. 
The  Snakes  were  better  equipped  and  clad  than 
ever  were  Snakes  before,  and  the  three  Canadians, 
suddenly  finding  themselves  with  horse  to  ride 
and  weapon  to  wear,  were,  like  beggars  on  'horse- 
back, ready  to  ride  on  any  wild  scamper.  An 
opportunity  soon  presented.  The  Snakes  deter- 
mined on  a  hunting  match  on  the  buffalo  prairies, 
to  lay  in  a  supply  of  beef,  that  they  might  live  in 
plenty,  as  became  men  of  their  improved  condi- 
tion. The  three  newly  mounted  cavaliers  must 
fain  accompany  them.  They  all  traversed  the 
Rocky  Mountains  in  safety,  descended  to  the  head 
waters  of  the  Missouri,  and  made  great  havoc 
among  the  buffaloes. 

Their  hunting  camp  was  full  of  meat  ;  they 
were  gorging  themselves,  like  true  Indians,  with 
present  plenty,  and  drying  and  jerking  great 
quantities  for  a  winter's  supply.  In  the  midst  of 
their  revelry  and  good  cheer,  the  camp  was  sur- 
prised by  the  Blackfeet.  Several  of  the  Snakes 
were  slain  on  the  spot  ;  the  residue,  with  their 
three  Canadian  allies,  fled  to  the  mountains, 
stripped  of  horses,  buffalo  meat,  everything  ;  and 
made  their  way  back  to  the  old  encampment  on 
Snake  River,  poorer  than  ever,  but  esteeming 
themselves  fortunate  in  having  escaped  with  their 
lives.  They  had  not  been  long  there  when  the 
Canadians  were  cheered  by  the  sight  of  a  com- 
panion in  misfortune,  Dubreuil,  the  poorvoyageur 
who  had  left  Mr.  Crooks  in  March,  being  too 
much  exhausted  to  keep  on  with  him.  Not  long 
afterward,  three  other  straggling  members  of  the 
main  expedition  made  their  appearance.  These 
were  Carson,  St.  Michael,  and  Pierre  Delaunay, 
three  of  the  trappers,  who,  in  company  with 
Pierre  Detaye,  had  been  left  among  the  mountains 
by  Mr.  Hunt,  to  trap  beaver,  in  the  preceding 
month  of  September.  They  had  departed  from  the 
main  body  well  armed  and  provided,  with  horses 
to  ride,  and  horses  to  carry  the  peltries  they  were 
to  collect.  They  came  wandering  into  the  Snake 
camp  as  ragged  and  destitute  as  their  predeces- 
sors. It  appears  that  they  had  finished  their  trap- 


414 


ASTORIA. 


ping,  and  were  making  their  way  in  the  spring  to 
the  Missouri,  when  they  were  met  and  attacked 
by  a  powerful  band  of  the  all-pervading  Crows. 
They  made  a  desperate  resistance,  and  killed  seven 
of  the  savages,  but  were  overpowered  by  num- 
bers. Pierre  Detaye"  was  slain,  the  rest  were 
robbed  of  horses  and  effects,  and  obliged  to  turn 
back,  when  they  fell  in  with  their  old  companions, 
as  already  mentioned. 

We  should  observe,  that  at  the  heels  of  Pierre 
Delaunay  came  draggling  an  Indian  wife,  whom 
he  had  picked  up  in  his  wanderings  ;  having 
grown  weary  of  celibacy  among  the  savages. 

The  whole  seven  of  this  forlorn  fraternity  of 
adventurers,  thus  accidentally  congregated  on  the 
banks  of  Snake  River,  were  making  arrange- 
ments once  more  to  cross  the  mountains,  when 
some  Indian  scouts  brought  word  of  the  approach 
of  the  little  band  headed  by  John  Reed. 

The  latter,  having  heard  the  several  stories  of 
these  wanderers,  took  them  all  into  his  party,  and 
set  out  for  the  Caldron  Linn,  to  clear  out  two  or 
three  of  the  caches  which  had  not  been  revealed 
to  the  Indians. 

At  that  place  he  met  with  Robinson,  the  Ken- 
tucky veteran,  who  with  his  two  comrades,  Rez- 
ner  and  Hoback,  had  remained  there  when  Mr. 
Stuart  went  on.  This  adventurous  trio  had  been 
trapping  higher  up  the  river,  but  Robinson  had 
come  down  in  a  canoe,  to  await  the  expected  ar- 
rival of  the  party,  and  obtain  horses  and  equip- 
ments. He  told  Reed  the  story  of  the  robbery  of 
his  party  by  the  Arapahays,  but  it  differed,  in 
some  particulars,  from  the  account  given  by  him 
to  Mr.  Stuart.  In  that  he  had  represented  Cass 
as  having  shamefully  deserted  his  companions  in 
their  extremity,  carrying  off  with  him  a  horse  ;  in 
the  one  now  given  he  spoke  of  him  as  having  been 
killed  in  the  affray  with  the  Arapahays.  This 
discrepancy,  of  which,  of  course,  Reed  could  have 
had  no  knowledge  at  the  time,  concurred  with 
other  circumstances,  to  occasion  afterward  some 
mysterious  speculations  and  dark  surmises,  as  to 
the  real  fate  of  Cass  ;  but  as  no  susbtantial 
grounds  were  ever  adduced  for  them,  we  forbear 
to  throw  any  deeper  shades  into  this  story  of  suf- 
ferings in  the  wildernss. 

Mr.  Reed  having  gathered  the  remainder  of  the 

foods  from  the  caches,  put  himself  at  the  head  of 
is  party,  now  augmented  by  the  seven  men  thus 
casually  picked  up,  and  the  squaw  of  Pierre  De- 
launay, and  made  his  way  successfully  to  M'Ken- 
zie's  Post,  on  the  waters  of  the  Shahaptan. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

AFTER  the  departure  of  the  different  detach- 
ments or  brigades,  as  they  are  called  by  the  fur 
traders,  the  Beaver  prepared  for  her  voyage  along 
the  coast,  and  her  visit  to  the  Russian  establish- 
ment, at  New  Archangel,  where  she  was  to  carry 
supplies.  It  had  been  determined  in  the  council 
of  partners  at  Astoria,  that  Mr.  Hunt  should  em- 
bark in  this  vessel,  for  the  purpose  of  acquainting 
himself  with  the  coasting  trade,  and  of  making 
arrangements  with  the  commander  of  the  Rus- 
sian post,  and  that  he  should  be  relanded  in  Oc- 
tober, at  Astoria,  by  the  Beaver,  on  her  way  to 
the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  Canton. 

The  Beaver  put  to  sea  in  the  month  of  August. 
Her  departure,  and  that  of  the  various  brigades, 
left  the  fortress  of  Astoria  but  slightly  garrisoned. 
This  was  soon  perceived  by  some  of  the  Indian 


tribes,  and  the  consequence  was  increased  inso- 
lence of  deportment,  and  a  disposition  to  hostil- 
ity. It  was  now  the  fishing  season,  when  the 
tribes  from  the  northern  coast  drew  into  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Columbia.  These  were  war- 
like and  perfidious  in  their  dispositions  ;  and  no- 
ted for  their  attempts  to  surprise  trading  ships. 
Among  them  were  numbers  of  the  Neweetees,  the 
ferocious  tribe  that  massacred  the  crew  oi  the 
Tonquin. 

Great  precautions,  therefore,  were  taken  at  the 
factory  to  guard  against  surprise  while  these  dan- 
gerous intruders  were  in  the  vicinity.  Galleries 
were  constructed  inside  of  the  palisades  ;  the  bas- 
tions were  heightened,  and  sentinels  were  posted 
day  and  night.  Fortunately,  the  Chinooks  and 
other  tribes  resident  in  the  vicinity  manifested  the 
most  pacific  disoosition.  Old  Comcomly,  who 
held  sway  over  them,  was  a  shrewd  calculator. 
He  was  aware  of  the  advantages  of  having  the 
whites  as  neighbors  and  allies,  and  of  the  conse- 
quence derived  to  himself  and  his  people  from 
acting  as  intermediate  traders  between  them  and 
the  distant  tribes.  He  had,  therefore,  by  this 
time,  become  a  firm  friend  of  the  Astorians,  and 
formed  a  kind  of  barrier  between  them  and  the 
hostile  intruders  from  the  north. 

The  summer  of  1812  passed  away  without  any 
of  the  hostilities  that  had  been  apprehended  ;  the 
Neweetees,  and  other  dangerous  visitors  to  the 
neighborhood,  finished  their  fishing  and  returned 
home,  and  the  inmates  of  the  factory  once  more 
felt  secure  from  attack. 

It  now  became  necessary  to  guard  against  other 
evils.  The  season  of  scarcity  arrived,  which  com- 
mences in  October,  and  lasts  until  the  end  of  Jan- 
uary. To  provide  for  the  support  of  the  garrison, 
the  shallop  was  employed  to  forage  about  the 
shores  of  the  river.  A  number  of  the  men,  also,  un- 
der the  command  of  some  of  the  clerks,  were  sent  to 
quarter  themselves  on  the  banks  of  the  Wollamut 
(the  Multnomah  of  Lewis  and  Clark),  a  fine  river 
which  disembogues  itself  into  the  Columbia,  about 
sixty  miles  above  Astoria.  The  country  border- 
ing on  the  river  is  finely  diversified  with  prairies 
and  hills,  and  forests  of  oak,  ash,  maple,  and  ce- 
dar. It  abounded,  at  that  time,  with  elk  and 
deer,  and  the  streams  were  well  stocked  with 
beaver.  Here  the  party,  after  supplying  their 
own  wants,  were  enabled  to  pack  up  quantities  of 
dried  meat,  and  send  it  by  canoes  to  Astoria. 

The  month  of  October  elapsed  without  the  re- 
turn of  the  Beaver.  November,  December,  Jan- 
uary, passed  away,  and  still  nothing  was  seen  or 
heard  of  her.  Gloomy  apprehensions  now  began 
to  be  entertained  ;  she  might  have  been  wrecked 
in  the  course  of  her  coasting  voyage,  or  sur- 
prised, like  the  Tonquin,  by  some  of  the  treach- 
erous tribes  of  the  north. 

No  one  indulged  more  in  these  apprehensions 
than  M'Dougal,  who  had  now  the  charge  of  the 
establishment.  He  no  longer  evinced  the  bustling 
confidence  and  buoyancy  which  once  character- 
ized him.  Command  seemed  to  have  lost  its 
charms  lor  him,  or  rather,  he  gave  way  to  the 
most  abject  despondency,  decrying  the  whole  en- 
terprise, magnifying  every  untoward  circum- 
stance, and  foreboding  nothing  but  evil. 

While  in  this  moody  state,  he  was  surprised, 
on  the  i6th  of  January,  by  the  sudden  appearance 
of  M'Kenzie,  wayworn  and  weather-beaten  by  a 
long  wintry  journey  from  his  post  on  the  Shahap- 
tan, and  with  a  face  the  very  frontispiece  for  a 
volume  of  misfortune.  M'Kenzie  had  been  heart- 
ily disgusted  and  disappointed  at  his  post.  It 


ASTORIA. 


415 


was  in  the  midst  of  the  Tushepaws,  a  powerful 
and  warlike  nation,  divided  into  many  tribes, 
under  different  chiefs,  who  possessed  innumera- 
ble horses,  but,  not  having  turned  their  attention 
to  beaver  trapping,  had  no  furs  to  offer.  Accord- 
ing to  M'Kenzie  they  were  but  a  "  rascally 
tribe  ;"  from  which  we  may  infer  that  they  were 
prone  to  consult  their  own  interests,  more  than 
comported  with  the  interests  of  a  greedy  Indian 
trader. 

Game  being  scarce,  he  was  obliged  to  rely, 
for  the  most  part,  on  horse-flesh  for  subsistence, 
and  the  Indians  discovering  his  necessities,  adopt- 
ed a  policy  usual  in  civilized  trade,  and  raised  the 
price  of  horses  to  an  exorbitant  rate,  knowing 
that  he  and  his  men  must  eat  or  die.  In  this  way, 
the  goods  he  had  brought  to  trade  for  beaver 
skins,  were  likely  to  be  bartered  for  horse-flesh, 
and  all  the  proceeds  devoured  upon  the  spot. 

He  had  dispatched  trappers  in  various  direc- 
tions, but  the  country  around  did  not  offer  more 
beaver  than  his  own  station.  In  this  emergency 
he  began  to  think  of  abandoning  his  unprofitable 
post,  sending  his  goods  to  the  posts  of  Clarke  and 
David  Stuart,  who  could  make  a  better  use  of  them, 
as  they  were  in  a  good  beaver  country,  and  re- 
turning with  his  party  to  Astoria,  to  seek  some 
better  destination.  With  this  view  he  repaired  to 
the  post  of  Mr.  Clarke,  to  hold  a  consultation. 
While  the  two  partners  were  in  conference  in  Mr. 
Clarke's  wigwam,  an  unexpected  visitor  came 
bustling  ill  upon  them. 

This  was  Mr.  John  George  M'Tavish,  a  partner 
of  the  Northwest  Company,  who  had  charge  of 
the  rival  trading  posts  established  in  that  neigh- 
borhood. Mr.  M'Tavish  was  the  delighted  mes- 
senger of  bad  news.  He  had  been  to  Lake  Win- 
nipeg, where  he  received  an  express  from  Canada, 
containing  the  declaration  of  war,  and  President 
Madison's  proclamation,  which  he  handed  with 
the  most  officious  complaisance  to  Messrs.  Clarke 
and  M'Kenzie.  He  moreover  told  them  that  he 
had  received  a  fresh  supply  of  goods  from  the 
northwest  posts  on  the  other  side  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  was  prepared  for  vigorous  oppo- 
sition to  the  establishment  of  the  American  Com- 
pany. He  capped  the  climax  of  this  obliging,  but 
belligerent  intelligence,  by  informing  them  that 
the  armed  ship,  Isaac  Todd,  was  to  be  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Columbia  about  the  beginning  of 
March,  to  get  possession  of  the  trade  of  the  river, 
and  that  he  was  ordered  to  join  her  there  at  that 
time. 

The  receipt  of  this  news  determined  M'Kenzie. 
He  immediately  returned  to  the  Shahaptan,  broke 
up  his  establishment,  deposited  his  goods  in 
cache,  and  hastened,  with  all  his  people,  to  As- 
toria. 

The  intelligence  thus  brought,  completed  the 
dismay  of  M'Dougal,  and  seemed  to  produce  a 
complete  confusion  of  mind.  He  held  a  council 
of  war  with  M'Kenzie,  at  which  some  of  the 
clerks  were  present,  but  of  course  had  no  votes. 
They  gave  up  all  hope  of  maintaining  their  post 
at  Astoria.  The  Beaver  had  probably  been  lost  ; 
they  could  receive  no  aid  from  the  United  States, 
as  all  ports  would  be  blockaded.  From  Eng- 
land nothing  could  be  expected  but  hostility.  It 
was  determined,  therefore,  to  abandon  the  estab- 
lishment in  the  course  of  the  following  spring, 
and  return  across  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

In  pursuance  of  this  resolution,  they  suspended 
all  trade  with  the  natives,  except  for  provisions, 
having  already  more  peltries  than  they  could  car- 
ry away,  and  having  need  of  all  the  goods  for  the 


clothing  and  subsistence  of  their  people  during- 
the  remainder  of  their  sojourn,  and  on  their  jour- 
ney across  the  mountains.  Their  intention  of 
abandoning  Astoria  was,  however,  kept  secret 
from  the  men,  lest  they  should  at  once  give  up 
all  labor,  and  become  restless  and  insubordinate. 

In  the  meantime,  M'Kenzie  set  off  for  his  post 
at  the  Shahaptan,  to  get  his  goods  from  the 
caches,  and  buy  horses  and  provisions  with  them 
for  the  caravan  across  the  mountains.  He  was 
charged  with  dispatches  from  M'Dougal  to  Mes- 
srs. Stuart  and  Clarke,  apprizing  them  of  the  in- 
tended migration,  that  they  might  make  timely 
preparations. 

M'Kenzie  was  accompanied  by  two  of  the  clerks, 
Mr.  John  Reed,  the  Irishman,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Se- 
ton,  of  New  York.  They  embarked  in  two  ca- 
noes, manned  by  seventeen  men,  and  ascended 
the  river  without  any  incident  of  importance,  un- 
til they  arrived  in  the  eventful  neighborhood  of 
the  rapids.  They  made  the  portage  of  the  nar- 
rows and  the  falls  early  in  the  afternoon,  and, 
having  partaken  of  a  scanty  meal,  had  now  a  long 
evening  on  their  hands. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  lay  the  village 
of  Wish-ram,  of  freebooting  renown.  Here  lived 
the  savages  who  had  robbed  and  maltreated 
Reed,  when  bearing  his  tin  box  of  dispatches.  It 
was  known  that  the  rifle  of  which  he  was  despoil- 
ed was  retained  as  a  trophy  at  the  village. 
M'Kenzie  offered  to  cross  the  river,  and  demand 
the  rifle,  if  any  one  would  accompany  him.  It 
was  a  hair-brained  project,  for  these  villages 
were  noted  for  the  ruffian  character  of  their  in- 
habitants ;  yet  two  volunteers  promptly  stepped 
forward  ;  Alfred  Seton,  the  clerk,  and  Joe  de 
la  Pierre,  the  cook.  The  trio  soon  reached  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river.  On  landing  they  freshly 
primed  their  rifles  and  pistols.  A  path  winding 
for  about  a  hundred  yards  among  rocks  and 
crags,  led  to  the  village.  No  notice  seemed  to 
be  taken  of  their  approach.  Not  a  solitary  be- 
ing, man,  woman,  or  child  greeted  them.  The 
very  dogs,  those  noisy  pests  of  an  Indian  town, 
kept  silence.  On  entering  the  village,  a  boy  made 
his  appearance,  and  pointed  to  a  house  of  larger 
dimensions  than  the  rest.  They  had  to  stoop  to 
enter  it  ;  as  soon  as  they  had  passed  the  thresh- 
old, the  narrow  passage  behind  them  was  filled 
up  by  a  sudden  rush  of  Indians,  who  had  before 
kept  out  of  sight. 

M'Kenzie  and  his  companions  found  them- 
selves in  a  rude  chamber  of  about  twenty-five  feet 
long,  and  twenty  wide.  A  bright  fire  was  blaz- 
ing at  one  end,  near  which  sat  the  chief,  about 
sixty  years  old.  A  large  number  of  Indians, 
wrapped  in  buffalo  robes,  were  squatted  in  rows,* 
three  deep,  forming  a  semicircle  round  three 
sides  of  the  room.  A  single  glance  around  suf- 
ficed to  show  them  the  grim  and  dangerous  as- 
sembly into  which  they  had  intruded,  and  that  all 
retreat  was  cut  off  by  the  mass  which  blocked  up 
the  entrance. 

The  chief  pointed  to  the  vacant  side  of  the  room 
opposite  to  the  door,  and  motioned  for  them  to 
take  their  seats.  They  complied.  A  dead  pause 
ensued.  The  grim  warriors  around  sat  like  stat- 
ues ;  each  muffled  in  his  robe,  with  his  fierce  eyes 
bent  on  the  intruders.  The  latter  felt  they  were 
in  a  perilous  predicament. 

"  Keep  your  eyes  on  the  chief  while  I  am  ad- 
dressing him,"  said  M'Kenzie  to  his  companions. 
"  Should  he  give  any  sign  to  his  band,  shoot  him, 
and  make  tor  the  door." 

M'Kenzie  advanced,   and  offered  the  pipe  of 


416 


ASTORIA. 


peace  to  the  chief,  but  it  was  refused.  He  then 
made  a  regular  speech,  explaining  the  object  of 
their  visit,  and  proposing  to  give  in  exchange  for 
the  rifle  two  blankets,  an  axe,  some  beads,  and 
tobacco. 

When  he  had  done  the  chief  rose,  began  to  ad- 
dress him  in  a  low  voice,  but  soon  became  loud 
and  violent,  and  ended  by  working  himself  up 
into  a  furious  passion.  He  upbraided  the  white 
men  for  their  sordid  conduct  in  passing  and  re- 
passing  through  their  neighborhood,  without  giv- 
ing them  a  blanket  or  any  other  article  of  goods, 
merely  because  they  had  no  furs  to  barter  in  ex- 
change ;  and  he  alluded  with  menaces  of  ven- 
geance, to  the  death  of  the  Indian  killed  by  the 
whites  in  the  skirmish  at  the  falls. 

Matters  were  verging  to  a  crisis.  It  was  evident 
the  surrounding  savages  were  only  waiting  a  signal 
from  the  chief  to  spring  upon  their  prey.  M'Ken- 
zie  and  his  companions  had  gradually  risen  on 
their  feet  during  the  speech,  and  had  brought  their 
rifles  to  a  horizontal  position,  the  barrels  resting 
in  their  left  hands  ;  the  muzzle  of  M'Kenzie's 
piece  was  within  three  feet  of  the  speaker's  heart. 
They  cocked  their  rifles  ;  the  click  of  the  locks 
lor  a  moment  suffused  the  dark  cheek  of  the  sav- 
age, and  there  was  a  pause.  They  coolly,  but 
promptly  advanced  to  the  door  ;  the  Indians  fell 
back  in  awe,  and  suffered  them  to  pass.  The  sun 
was  just  setting  as  they  emerged  from  this  dan- 
gerous den.  They  took  the  precaution  to  keep 
along  the  tops  of  the  rocks  as  much  as  possible 
on  their  way  back  to  the  canoe,  and  reached  their 
camp  in  safety,  congratulating  themselves  on  their 
escape,  and  feeling  no  desire  to  make  a  second 
visit  to  the  grim  warriors  of  Wish-ram. 

M'Kenzie  and  his  party  resumed  their  journey 
the  next  morning.  At  some  distance  above  the 
falls  of  the  Columbia,  they  observed  two  bark  ca- 
noes, filled  with  white  men,  coming  down  the 
river,  to  the  full  chant  of  a  set  of  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs.  A  parley  ensued.  It  was  a  detachment 
of  northwesters,  under  the  command  of  Mr.  John 
George  M'Tavish,  bound,  full  of  song  and  spirit, 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  to  await  the  arrival 
of  the  Isaac  Todd. 

Mr.  M'Kenzie  and  M'Tavish  came  to  a  halt, 
and  landing,  encamped  together  for  the  night. 
The  voyageurs  of  either  party  hailed  each  other 
as  brothers,  and  old  "  comrades,"  and  they  min- 
gled together  as  if  united  by  one  common  interest, 
instead  of  belonging  to  rival  companies,  and  trad- 
ing under  hostile  flags. 

In  the  morning  they  proceeded  on  their  differ- 
ent ways,  in  style  corresponding  to  their  different 
fortunes,  the  one  toiling  painfully  against  the 
stream,  the  other  sweeping  down  gayly  with  the 
current. 

M'Kenzie  arrived  safely  at  his  deserted  post  on 
the  Shahaptan,  but  found,  to  his  chagrin,  that  his 
caches  had  been  discovered  and  rifled  by  the  In- 
dians. Here  was  a  dilemma,  for  on  the  stolen 
goods  he  had  depended  to  purchase  horses  of  the 
Indians.  He  sent  out  men  in  all  directions  to  en- 
deavor to  discover  the  thieves,  and  dispatched  Mr. 
Reed  to  the  posts  of  Messrs.  Clarke  and  David 
Stuart,  with  the  letters  ol  Mr.  M'Dougal. 

The  resolution  announced  in  these  letters,  to 
break  up  and  depart  from  Astoria,  was  condemn- 
ed by  both  Clarke  and  Stuart.  These  two  gentle- 
men had  been  very  successful  at  their  posts,  and 
considered  it  rash  and  pusillanimous  to  abandon, 
on  the  first  difficulty,  an  enterprise  of  such  great 
cost  and  ample  promise.  They  made  no  arrange- 
ments, therefore,  for  leaving  the  country,  but  acted 


with  a  view  to  the  maintenance  of  their  new  and 
prosperous  establishments. 

The  regular  time  approached,  when  the  part- 
ners of  the  interior  posts  were  to  rendezvous  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Wallah-Wallah,  on  their  way  to 
Astoria,  with  the  peltries  they  had  collected.  Mr. 
Clarke  accordingly  packed  all  his  furs  on  twenty- 
eight  horses,  and  leaving  a  clerk  and  four  men  to 
take  charge  of  the  post,  departed  on  the  25th  of 
May  with  the  residue  of  his  force. 

On  the  3oth  he  arrived  at  the  confluence  of  the 
Pavion  and  Lewis  Rivers,  where  he  had  left  his 
barge  and  canoes,  in  the  guardianship  of  the  old 
Pierced-nose  chieftain.  That  dignitary  had  ac- 
quitted himself  more  faithfully  of  his  charge  than 
Mr.  Clarke  had  expected,  and  the  canoes  were 
found  in  very  tolerable  order.  Some  repairs  were 
necessary,  and  while  they  were  making,  the  party 
encamped  close  by  the  village.  Having  had  re- 
peated and  vexatious  proofs  of  the  pilfering  pro- 
pensities of  this  tribe  during  his  former  visit,  Mr. 
Clarke  ordered  that  a  wary  eye  should  be  kept 
upon  them. 

He  was  a  tall,  good-looking  man,  and  some- 
what given  to  pomp  and  circumstance,  which 
made  him  an  object  of  note  in  the  eyes  of  the 
wondering  savages.  He  was  stately,  too,  in  his 
appointments,  and  had  a  silver  goblet  or  drinking 
cup,  out  of  which  he  would  drink  with  a  magnif- 
icent air,  and  then  lock  it  up  in  a  large  garde- 
vin,  which  accompanied  him  in  his  travels,  and 
stood  in  his  tent.  This  goblet  had  originally  been 
sent  as  a  present  from  Mr.  Astor  to  Mr.  M'Kay, 
the  partner  who  had  unfortunately  been  blown  up 
in  the  Tonquin.  As  it  reached  Astoria  after  the 
departure  of  that  gentleman,  it  had  remained  in 
the  possession  of  Mr.  Clarke. 

A  silver  goblet  was  too  glittering  a  prize  not  to 
catch  the  eye  of  a  Pierced-nose.  It  was  like  the 
shining  tin  case  of  John  Reed.  Such  a  wonder 
had  never  been  seen  in  the  land  before.  The  In- 
dians talked  about  it  to  one  another.  They 
marked  the  care  with  which  it  was  deposited  in 
the  garde  vin,  like  a  relic  in  its  shrine,  and  con- 
cluded that  it  must  be  a  "great  medicine." 
That  night  Mr.  Clarke  neglected  to  lock  up  his 
treasure  ;  in  the  morning  the  sacred  casket  was 
open — the  precious  relic  gone  ! 

Clarke  was  now  outrageous.  All  the  past  vex- 
ations that  he  had  suffered  from  this  pilfering 
community  rose  to  mind,  and  he  threatened  that, 
unless  the  goblet  was  promptly  returned,  he  would 
hang  the  thief  should  he  eventually  discover  him. 
The  day  passed  away,  however. without  the  restor- 
ation of  the  cup.  At  night  sentinels  were  secretly 
posted  about  the  camp.  With  all  their  vigilance  a 
Pierced-nose  contrived  to  get  into  the  camp  un- 
perceived,  and  to  load  himself  with  booty  ;  it  was 
only  on  his  retreat  that  he  was  discovered  and 
taken. 

At  daybreak  the  culprit  was  brought  to  trial, 
and  promptly  convicted.  He  stood  responsible 
for  all  the  spoliations  of  the  camp,  the  precious 
goblet  among  the  number,  and  Mr,  Clarke  passed 
sentence  of  death  upon  him. 

A  gibbet  was  accordingly  constructed  of  oars  ; 
the  chief  of  the  village  and  his  people  were  as- 
sembled and  the  culprit,  was  produced,  with  his 
legs  and  arms  pinioned.  Clarke  then  made  a 
harangue.  He  reminded  the  tribe  of  the 
benefits  he  had  bestowed  upon  them  during 
his  former  visits,  and  the  many  thefts  and 
other  misdeeds  which  he  had  overlooked.  The 
prisoner  especially  had  always  been  peculiarly 
well  treated  by  the  white  men,  but  had  repeatedly 


ASTORIA. 


417 


been  guilty  of  pilfering.  He  was  to  he  punished 
lor  his  own  misdeeds,  and  as  a  warning  to  his  tribe. 

The  Indians  now  gathered  round  Mr.  Clarke 
and  interceded  for  the  culprit.  They  were  will- 
ing he  should  be  punished  severely,  but  implored 
that  his  life  might  be  spared.  The  companions, 
too,  of  Mr.  Clarke,  considered  the  sentence  too 
severe,  and  advised  him  to  mitigate  it  ;  but  he 
was  inexorable.  He  was  not  naturally  a  stern  or 
cruel  man  ;  but  from  his  boyhood  he  had  lived  in 
the  Indian  country  among  Indian  traders,  and 
held  the  life  of  a  savage  extremely  cheap.  He 
was,  moreover,  a  firm  believer  in  the  doctrine  of 
intimidation. 

Farnham,  a  clerk,  a  tall  "  Green  Mountain 
boy"  from  Vermont,  who  had  been  robbed  of  a 
pistol,  acted  as  executioner.  The  signal  was 
given,  and  the  poor  Pierced-nose,  resisting,  strug- 
gling, and  screaming,  in  the  most  frightul  man- 
ner, was  launched  into  eternity.  The  Indians 
stood  round  gazing  in  silence  and  mute  awe,  but 
made  no  attempt  to  oppose  the  execution,  nor 
testified  any  emotion  when  it  was  over.  They 
locked  up  their  feelings  within  their  bosoms  until 
an  opportunity  should  arrive  to  gratify  them  with 
a  bloody  act  of  vengeance. 

To  say  nothing  of  the  needless  severity  of  this 
act,  its  impolicy  was  glaringly  obvious.  Mr. 
M'Lennan  and  three  men  were  to  return  to  the 
post  with  the  horses,  their  loads  having  been 
transferred  to  the  canoes.  They  would  have  to 
pass  through  a  tract  of  country  infested  by  this 
tribe,  who  were  all  horsemen  and  hard  riders,  and 
might  pursue  them  to  take  vengeance  for  the 
death  of  their  comrade.  M'Lennan,  however,  was 
a  resolute  fellow,  and  made  light  of  all  dangers. 
He  and  his  three  men  were  present  at  the  execu- 
tion, and  set  off  as  soon  as  life  was  extinct  in  the 
victim  ;  but,  to  use  the  words  of  one  of  their  com- 
rades, "  they  did  not  let  the  grass  grow  under  the 
heels  of  their  horses,  as  they  clattered  out  of  the 
Pierced-nose  country,"  and  were  glad  to  find 
themselves  in  safety  at  the  post. 

Mr.  Clarke  and  his  party  embarked  about  the 
same  time  in  their  canoes,  and  early  on  the  fol- 
lowing day  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Wallah-Wal- 
lah, where  they  found  Messrs.  Stuart  and  M'Ken- 
zie  awaiting  them  ;  the  latter  having  recovered 
part  of  the  goods  stolen  from  his  cache.  Clarke 
informed  them  of  the  signal  punishment  he  had 
inflicted  on  the  Pierced-nose,  evidently  expecting 
to  excite  their  admiration  by  such  a  hardy  act  of 
justice,  performed  in  the  very  midst  of  the  Indian 
country,  but  was  mortified  at  finding  it  strongly 
censured  as  inhuman,  unnecessary,  and  likely  to 
provoke  hostilities. 

The  parties  thus  united  formed  a  squadron  of 
two  boats  and  six  canoes,  with  which  they  per- 
formed their  voyage  in  safety  clown  the  river,  and 
arrived  at  Astoria  on  the  I2th  of  June,  bringing 
with  them  a  valuable  stock  of  peltries. 

About  ten  clays  previously,  the  brigade  which 
had  been  quartered  on  the  banks  of  the  Wollamut, 
had  arrived  with  numerous  packs  of  beaver,  the 
result  of  a  few  months'  sojourn  on  that  river. 
These  were  the  first  fruits  of  the  enterprise,  gath- 
ered by  men  as  yet  mere  strangers  in  the  land  ; 
but  they  were  such  as  to  give  substantial  grounds 
for  sanguine  anticipations  of  profit,  when  the 
country  should  be  more  completely  explored,  and 
the  trade  established. 


CHAPTER  LIV. 
THE  partners  found  Mr.  M'Dougal  in  all  the 


bustle  of  preparation  ;  having  about  nine  days 
previously  announced  at  the  factory,  his  intention 
of  breaking  up  the  establishment,  and  fixed  upon 
the  ist  of  July  lor  the  time  of  departure.  Messrs. 
Stuart  and  Clarke  felt  highly  displeased  at  his 
taking  so  precipitate  a  step,  without  waiting  for 
their  concurrence,  when  he  must  have  known  that 
their  arrival  could  not  be  far  distant. 

Indeed,  the  whole  conduct  of  Mr.  M'Dougal 
was  such  as  to  awaken  strong  doubts  as  to  his 
loyal  devotion  to  the  cause.  His  old  sympathies 
with  the  Northwest  Company  seemed  to  have  re- 
vived. He  had  received  M'Tavish  and  his  party 
with  uncalled-for  hospitality,  as  though  they  were 
friends  and  allies,  instead  of  being  a  party  of  ob- 
servation, come  to  reconnoitre  the  state  of  affairs 
at-  Astoria,  and  to  await  the  arrival  of  a  hostile 
ship.  Had  they  been  left  to  themselves,  they 
would  have  been  starved  off  for  want  of  provi- 
sions, or  driven  away  by  the  Chinooks,  who  only 
wanted  a  signal  from  the  factory  to  treat  them  as 
intruders  and  enemies.  M'Dougal,  on  the  con- 
trary, had  supplied  them  from  the  stores  oi  the 
garrison,  and  had  gained  them  the  favor  oi  the 
Indians,  by  treating  them  as  friends. 

Having  set  his  mind  fixedly  on  the  project  of 
breaking  up  the  establishment  at  Astoria,  in  the 
current  year,  M'Dougal  was  sorely  disappointed 
at  finding  that  Messrs.  Stuart  and  Clarke  had 
omitted  to  comply  with  his  request  to  purchase 
horses  and  provisions  for  the  caravan  across  the 
mountains.  It  was  now  too  late  to  make  the  ne- 
cessary preparations  in  time  for  traversing  the 
mountains  before  winter,  and  the  project  had 
to  be  postponed. 

In  the  meantime,  the  non-arrival  of  the  annual 
ship,  and  the  apprehensions  entertained  oi  the 
loss  of  the  Beaver,  and  of  Mr.  Hunt,  had  their  ef- 
fect upon  the  minds  of  Messrs.  Stuart  and  Clarke. 
They  began  to  listen  to  the  desponding  represent- 
ations of  M'Dougal,  seconded  by  M'Kenzie,  who 
inveighed  against  their  situation  as  desperate  and 
forlorn  ;  left  to  shift  for  themselves,  or  perish  upon 
a  barbarous  coast  ;  neglected  by  those  who  sent 
them  there,  and  threatened  with  dangers  of  every 
kind.  In  this  way  they  were  brought  to  consent 
to  the  plan  of  abandoning  the  country  in  the  en- 
suing year. 

About  this  time,  M'Tavish  applied  at  the  fac- 
tory to  purchase  a  small  supply  of  goods  where- 
with to  trade  his  way  back  to  his  post  on  the  up- 
per waters  of  the  Columbia,  having  waited  in 
vain  for  the  arrival  of  the  Isaac  Todd.  His  re- 
quest brought  on  a  consultation  among  the  part- 
ners. M'Dougal  urged  that  it  should  be  com- 
plied with.  He  furthermore  proposed,  that  they 
should  give  up  to  M'Tavish,  for  a  proper  consider- 
ation, the  post  on  the  Spokan,  and  all  its  depend- 
encies, as  they  had  not  sufficient  goods  on  hand 
to  supply  that  post  themselves,  and  to  keep  up  a 
competition  with  the  Northwest  Company  in  the 
trade  with  the  neighboring  Indians.  This  last  rep- 
resentation has  since  been  proved  incorrect.  By 
inventories,  it  appears  that  their  stock  in  hand  for 
the  supply  oi  the  interior  posts,  was  superior  to 
that  of  the  Northwest  Company  ;  so  that  they  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  competition. 

Through  the  influence  of  Messrs.  M'Dougal 
and  M'Kenzie,  this  proposition  was  adopted,  and 
was  promptly  accepted  by  M'Tavish.  The  mer- 
chandise sold  to  him,  amounted  to  eight  hundred 
and  fifty-eight  dollars,  to  be  paid  for,  in  the  fol- 
lowing spring,  in  horses,  or  in  any  other  manner 
most  acceptable  to  the  partners  at  that  period. 

This  agreement  being  concluded,  the  partners 


418 


ASTORIA. 


formed  their  plans  for  the  year  that  they  would 
yet  have  to  pass  in  the  country.  Their  objects 
were,  chiefly,  present  subsistence,  and  the  pur- 
chase of  horses  for  the  contemplated  journey, 
though,  they  were  likewise  to  collect  as  much 
peltries  as  their  diminished  means  would  com- 
mand. Accordingly,  it  was  arranged  that  David 
Stuart  should  return  to  his  former  post  on  the 
Oakinagan,  and  Mr.  Clarke  should  make  his  so- 
journ among  the  Flatheads.  John  Reed,  the  sturdy 
Hibernian,  was  to  undertake  the  Snake  River 
country,  accompanied  by  Pierre  Dorion  and 
Pierre  Delaunay,  as  hunters,  and  Francis  Landry, 
Jean  Baptiste  Turcotte,  Andre"  La  Chapelle,  and 
Gilles  le  Clerc,  Canadian  voyageurs. 

Astoria,  however,  was  the  post  about  which 
they  felt  the  greatest  solicitude,  and  on  which 
they  all  more  or  less  depended.  The  mainte- 
nance of  this  in  safety  throughout  the  coming  year, 
was,  therefore,  their  grand  consideration.  Mr. 
M'Dougal  was  to  continue  in  command  of  it,  with 
a  party  of  forty  men.  They  would  have  to  de- 
pend chiefly  upon  the  neighboring  savages  for 
their  subsistence.  These,  at  present,  were  friend- 
ly, but  it  was  to  be  feared  that,  when  they  should 
discover  the  exigencies  of  the  post,  and  its  real 
weakness,  they  might  proceed  to  hostilities  ;  or, 
at  any  rate,  might  cease  to  furnish  their  usual 
supplies."  It  was  important,  therefore,  to  render 
the  place  as  independent  as  possible,  of  the  sur- 
rounding tribes  for  its  support  ;  and  it  was  ac- 
cordingly resolved  that  M'Kenzie,  with  four  hun- 
ters, and  eight  common  men,  should  winter  in 
the  abundant  country  of  Wollamut,  from  whence 
they  might  be  enabled  to  furnish  a  constant  sup- 
ply of  provisions  to  Astoria. 

As  there  was  too  great  a  proportion  of  clerks 
for  the  number  of  privates  in  the  service",  the  en- 
gagements of  three  of  them,  Ross  Cox,  Ross,  and 
M'Lennan,  were  surrendered  to  them,  and  they 
immediately  enrolled  themselves  in  the  service  of 
the  Northwest  Company  ;  glad,  no  doubt,  to  es- 
cape from  what  they  considered  a  sinking  ship. 

Having  made  all  these  arrangements,  the  four 
partners,  on  the  first  of  July,  signed  a  formal 
manifesto,  stating  the  alarming  state  of  their  af- 
fairs, from  the  non-arrival  of  the  annual  ship,  and 
the  absence  and  apprehended  loss  of  the  Beaver, 
their  want  of  goods,  their  despair  of  receiving  any 
further  supply,  their  ignorance  of  the  coast,  and 
their  disappointment  as  to  the  interior  trade, 
which  they  pronounced  unequal  to  the  expenses 
incurred,  and  incompetent  to  stand  against  the 
powerful  opposition  of  the  Northwest  Company. 
And  as  by  the  i6th  article  of  the  company's  agree- 
ment, they  were  authorized  to  abandon  this  under- 
taking and  dissolve  the  concern,  if  before  the 
period  of  five  years  it  should  be  found  unprofita- 
ble, they  now  formally  announced  their  intention 
to  do  so  on  the  1st  day  of  June,  of  the  ensuing 
year,  unless  in  the  interim  they  should  receive  the 
necessary  support  and  supplies  from  Mr.  Astor, 
or  the  stockholders,  with  orders  to  continue. 

This  instrument,  accompanied  by  private  letters 
of  similar  import,  was  delivered  to  Mr.  M'Tavish, 
who  departed  on  the  5th  of  July.  He  engaged  to 
forward  the  dispatches  to  Mr.  Astor,  by  the  usual 
winter  express  sent  overland  by  the  Northwest 
Company. 

The  manifesto  was  signed  with  great  reluctance 
by  Messrs.  Clarke  and  D.  Stuart,  whose  experi- 
ence by  no  means  justified  the  discouraging  ac- 
count given  in  it  of  the  internal  trade,  and  who 
considered  the  main  difficulties  ot  exploring  an 
unknown  and  savage  country,  and  of  ascertaining 


the  best  trading  and  trapping  grounds,  in  a  gre?t. 
measure  overcome.  They  were  overruled,  how- 
ever, by  the  urgent  instances  of  M'Dougal  ami 
M'Kenzie,  who,  having  resolved  upon  abandoning 
the  enterprise,  were  desirous  of  making  as  strong 
a  case  as  possible  to  excuse  their  conduct  to  Mr. 
Astor  and  to  the  world. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

WHILE  difficulties  and  disasters  had  been  gath- 
ering about  the  infant  settlement  of  Astoria,  the 
mind  of  its  projector  at  New  York  was  a  prey  to 
great  anxiety.  The  ship  Lark,  dispatched  by  him 
with  supplies  for  the  establishment,  sailed  on  the 
6th  of  March,  1813.  Within  a  fortnight  afterward, 
he  received  intelligence  which  justified  all  his  ap- 
prehensions of  hostility  on  the  part  of  the  British. 
The  Northwest  Company  had  made  a  second 
memorial  to  that  government,  representing  As- 
toria as  an  American  establishment,  stating  the 
vast  scope  of  its  contemplated  operations,  magni- 
fying the  strength  of  its  fortifications,  and  expres- 
sing their  fears,  that,  unless  crushed  in  the  bud, 
it  would  effect  the  downfall  of  their  trade. 

Influenced  by  these  representations,  the  British 
Government  ordered  the  frigate  Phoebe  to  be  de- 
tached as  a  convoy  for  the  armed  ship,  Isaac 
Todd,  which  was  ready  to  sail  with  men  and  mu- 
nitions lor  forming  a  new  establishment.  They 
were  to  proceed  together  to  the  mouth  of  the  Co- 
lumbia, capture  or  destroy  whatever  American 
fortress  they  should  find  there,  and  plant  the  Brit- 
ish flag  on  its  ruins. 

Iniormed  of  these  movements,  Mr.  Astor  lost 
no  time  in  addressing  a  second  letter  to  the  Sec- 
retary of  State,  communicating  this  intelligence, 
and  requesting  it  might  be  laid  before  the  Presi- 
dent ;  as  no  notice,  however,  had  been  taken  of 
his  previous  letter,  he  contented  himself  with  this 
simple  communication,  and  made  no  further  ap- 
plication for  aid. 

Awakened  now  to  the  danger  that  menaced  the 
establishment  at  Astoria,  and  aware  of  the  im- 
portance of  protecting  this  foothold  of  American 
commerce  and  empire  on  the  shores  of  the  Pacific, 
the  government  determined  to  send  the  frigate 
Adams,  Captain  Crane,  upon  this  service.  On 
hearing  of  this  determination,  Mr.  Astor  imme- 
diately proceeded  to  fit  out  a  ship  called  the  En- 
terprise, to  sail  in  company  with  the  Adams, 
freighted  with  additional  supplies  and  reinforce- 
ments for  Astoria. 

About  the  middle  of  June,  while  in  the  midst  of 
these  preparations,  Mr.  Astor  received  a  letter 
from  Mr.  R.  Stuart,  dated  St.  Louis,  May  1st, 
confirming  the  intelligence  already  received 
through  the  public  newspapers,  of  his  safe  return, 
and  of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party  at 
Astoria,  and  giving  the  most  flattering  accounts 
of  the  prosperity  of  the  enterprise. 

So  deep  had  been  the  anxiety  of  Mr.  Astor,  for 
the  success  of  this  great  object  of  his  ambition, 
that  this  gleam  of  good  news  was  almost  over- 
powering. "  I  felt  ready,"  said  he,  "  to  fall  upon 
my  knees  in  a  transport  of  gratitude." 

At  the  same  time  he  heard  that  the  Beaver  had 
made  good  her  voyage  from  New  York  to  the  Co- 
lumbia. This  was  additional  ground  of  hope  for 
the  welfare  of  the  little  colony.  The  post  be;ng 
thus  relieved  and  strengthened  with  an  American 
at  its  head,  and  a  ship  of  war  about  to  sail  for  its 
protection,  the  prospect  for  the  future  seemed,  full 


ASTORIA. 


419 


of  encouragement,  and  Mr.  Astor  proceeded,  with 
fresh  vigor,  to  fit  out  his  merchant  ship. 

Unfortunately  for  Astoria,  this  bright  gleam  of 
sunshine  was  soon  overclouded.  Just  as  the 
Adams  had  received  her  complement  of  men,  and 
the  two  vessels  were  ready  for  sea,  news  came 
from  Commodore  Chauncey,  commanding  on 
Lake  Ontario,  that  a  reniforcement  of  seamen 
was  wanted  in  that  quarter.  The  demand  was 
urgent,  the  crew  of  the  Adams  was  immediately 
transferred  to  that  service,  and  the  ship  was  laid 
up. 

This  was  a  most  ill-timed  and  discouraging 
blow,  but  Mr.  Astor  would  not  yet  allow  himself 
to  pause  in  his  undertaking.  He  determined  to 
send  the  Enterprise  to  sea  alone,  and  let  her  take 
the  chance  of  making  her  unprotected  way  across 
the  ocean.  Just  at  this  time,  however,  a  British 
force  made  its  appearance  off  the  Hook,  and  the 
port  of  New  York  was  effectually  blockaded.  To 
send  a  ship  to  sea  under  these  circumstances 
would  be  to  expose  her  to  almost  certain  capture. 
The  Enterprise,  was,  therefore,  unloaded  and 
dismantled,  and  Mr.  Astor  was  obliged  to  com- 
fort himself  with  the  hope  that  the  Lark  might 
reach  Astoria  in  safety,  and  that,  aided  by  her  sup- 
plies and  by  the  good  management  of  Mr.  Hunt 
and  his  associates,  the  little  colony  might  be  able 
to  maintain  itself  until  the  return  of  peace. 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

WE  have  hitherto  had  so  much  to  relate  of  a 
gloomy  and  disastrous  nature,  that  it  is  with  a 
feeling  of  momentary  relief  we  turn  to  something 
of  a  more  pleasing  complexion,  and  record  the 
first,  and  indeed  only  nuptials  in  high  life  that 
took  place  in  the  infant  settlement  of  Astoria. 

M'Dougal,  who  appears  to  have  been  a  man  of 
a  thousand  projects,  and  of  great  though  some- 
what irregular  ambition,  suddenly  conceived  the 
idea  of  seeking  the  hand  of  one  of  the  native 
princesses,  a  daughter  of  the  one-eyed  potentate 
Comcomly,  who  held  sway  over  the  fishing  tribe 
of  the  Chinooks,  and  had  long  supplied  the  fac- 
tory with  smelts  and  sturgeons. 

Some  accounts  give  rather  a  romantic  origin  to 
this  affair,  tracing  it  to  the  stormy  night  when 
M'Dougal,  in  the  course  of  an  exploring  expedi- 
tion, Was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  seek 
shelter  in  the  royal  abode  of  Comcomly.  Then 
and  there  he  was  first  struck  with  the  charms  of 
this  piscatory  princess,  as  she  exerted  herself  to 
entertain  her  father's  guest. 

The  "  journal  of  Astoria,"  however,  which  was 
kept  under  his  own  eye,  records  this  union  as  a 
high  state  alliance,  and  great  stroke  of  policy.  The 
factory  had  to  depend,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the 
Chinooks  for  provisions.  They  were  at  present 
friendly,  but  it  was  to  be  feared  they  would  prove 
otherwise,  should  they  discover  the  weakness  and 
the  exigencies  of  the  post,  and  the  intention  to 
leave  the  country.  This  alliance,  therefore,  would 
infallibly  rivet  Comcomly  to  the  interests  of  the 
Astorians,  and  with  him  the  powerful  tribe  of  the 
Chinooks.  Be  this  as  it  may,  and  it  is  hard  to 
fathom  the  real  policy  of  governors  and  princes, 
M'Dougal  dispatched  two  of  the  clerks  as  ambas- 
sadors extraordinary,  to  wait  upon  the  one-eyed 
chieftain,  and  make  overtures  for  the  hand  of  his 
daughter. 

The  Chinooks,  though  not  a  very  refined  na- 
tion, have  notions  of  matrimonial  arrangements 
that  would  not  disgrace  the  most  refined  sticklers 


for  settlements  and  pin  money.  The  suitor  res 
pairs  not  to  the  bower  of  his  mistress,  but  to  her 
father's  lodge,  and  throws  down  a  present  at  his 
feet.  His  wishes  are  then  disclosed  by  some  dis- 
creet friend  employed  by  him  for  the  purpose.  If 
the  suitor  and  his  present  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of 
the  father,  he  breaks  the  matter  to  his  daughter, 
and  inquires  into  the  state  of  her  inclinations. 
Should  her  answer  be  favorable,  the  suit  is  ac- 
cepted, and  the  lover  has  to  make  further  presents 
to  the  father,  of  horses,  canoes,  and  other  valua- 
bles, according  to  the  beauty  and  merits  of  the 
bride  ;  looking  forward  to  a  return  in  kind  when- 
ever they  shall  go  to  housekeeping. 

We  have  more  than  once  had  occasion  to  speak 
of  the  shrewdness  of  Comcomly  ;  but  never  was  it 
exerted  more  adroitly  than  on  this  occasion.  He 
was  a  great  friend  of  M'Dougal,  and  pleased  with 
the  idea  of  having  so  distinguished  a  son-in-law  ; 
but  so  favorable  an  opportunity  of  benefiting  his 
own  fortune  was  not  likely  to  occur  a  second  time, 
and  he  determined  to  make  the  most  of  it.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  negotiation  was  protracted  with 
true  diplomatic  skill.  Conference  after  confer- 
ence was  held  with  the  two  ambassadors  ;  Com- 
comly was  extravagant  in  his  terms,  rating  the 
charms  of  his  daughter  at  the  highest  price,  and 
indeed  she  is  represented  as  having  one  of  the 
flattest  and  most  aristocratical  heads  in  the  tribe. 
At  length  the  preliminaries  were  all  happily  ad- 
justed. On  the  2Oth  of  July,  early  in  the  after- 
noon, a  squadron  of  canoes  crossed  over  from  the 
village  of  the  Chinooks,  bearing  the  royal  family 
of  Comcomly,  and  all  his  court. 

That  worthy  sachem  landed  in  princely  state, 
arrayed  in  a  bright  blue  blanket  and  red  breech- 
clout,  with  an  extra  quantity  of  paint  and  feathers, 
attended  by  a  train  of  half-naked  warriors  and  no- 
bles. A  horse  was  in  waiting  to  receive  the 
princess,  who  was  mounted  behind  one  of  the 
clerks,  and  thus  conveyed,  coy  but  compliant,  to 
the. fortress.  Here  she  was  received  with  devout 
though  decent  joy,  by  her  expecting  bridegroom. 

Her  bridal  adornments,  it  is  true,  at  first  caused 
some  little  dismay,  having  painted  and  anointed 
herself  for  the  occasion  according  to  the  Chinook 
toilet  ;  by  dint,  however,  of  copious  ablutions,  she 
was  freed  from  all  adventitious  tint  and  fragrance, 
and  entered  into  the  nuptial  state,  the  cleanest 
princess  that  had  ever  been  known,  of  the  some- 
what unctuous  tribe  of  the  Chinooks. 

From  that  time  forward  Comcomly  was  a  daily 
visitor  at  the  fort,  and  was  admitted  into  the  most 
intimate  councils  of  his  son-in-law.  He  took  an 
interest  in  everything  that  was  going  forward,  but 
was  particularly  frequent  in  his  visits  to  the  black- 
smith's shop,  tasking  the  labors  of  the  artificer  in 
iron  for  every  kind  of  weapon  and  implement 
suited  to  the  savage  state,  insomuch  that  the 
necessary  business  of  the  factory  was  often  post- 
poned to  attend  to  his  requisitions. 

The  honeymoon  had  scarce  passed  away,  and 
M'Dougal  was  seated  with  his  bride  in  the  fortress 
of  Astoria,  when,  about  noon  of  the  2oth  of  Au- 
gust, Gassacop,  the  son  of  Comcomly,  hurried  into 
his  presence  with  great  agitation,  and  announced 
a  ship  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  news  pro- 
duced a  vast  sensation.  Was  it  a  ship  of  peace 
or  war  ?  Was  it  American  or  British  ?  Was  it 
the  Beaver  or  the  Isaac  Todd  ?  M'Dougal  hur- 
ried to  the  water-side,  threw  himself  into  a  boat, 
and  ordered  the  hands  to  pull  with  all  speed  for 
the  mouth  of  the  harbor.  Those  in  the  fort  re- 
mained watching  the  entrance  of  the  river,  anx- 
ious to  know  whether  they  were  to  prepare  for 


420 


ASTORIA. 


greeting  a  friend  or  fighting  an  enemy.  At 
length  the  ship  was  descried  crossing  the  bar, 
and  bending  her  course  toward  Astoria.  Every 
gaze  was  fixed  upon  her  in  silent  scrutiny,  until 
the  American  flag  was  recognized.  A  general 
shout  was  the  first  expression  of  joy,  and  next  a 
salutation  was  thundered  from  the  cannon  of  the 
fort. 

The  vessel  came  to  anchor  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  river,  and  returned  the  salute.  The  boat  ol 
Mr.  M'Dougal  went  on  board,  and  was  seen  re- 
turning late  in  the  alternoon.  The  Astorians 
watched  her  with  straining  eyes,  to  discover  who 
were  on  board,  but  the  sun  went  down,  and  the 
evening  closed  in,  before  she  was  sufficiently 
near.  At  length  she  reached  the  land,  and  Mr. 
Hunt  stepped  on  shore.  He  was  hailed  as  one 
risen  Jrom  the  dead,  and  his  return  was  a  signal 
for  merriment  almost  equal  to  that  which  prevail- 
ed at  the  nuptials  of  M'Dougal. 

We  must  now  explain  the  cause  of  this  gentle- 
man's long  absence,  which  had  given  rise  to  such 
gloomy  and  dispiriting  surmises. 


CHAPTER  LVII. 

IT  will  be  recollected  that  the  destination  of 
the  Beaver,  when  she  sailed  Irom  Astoria  on  the 
4th  of  August  in  1812,  was  to  proceed  northward- 
ly along  the  coast  to  Sheetka,  or  New  Archangel, 
there  to  dispose  of  that  part  of  her  cargo  intend- 
ed for  the  supply  of  the  Russian  establishment  at 
that  place,  and  then  to  return  to  Astoria,  where 
it  was  expected  she  would  arrive  in  October. 

New  Archangel  is  situated  in  Norfolk  Sound, 
lat.  57°  2'  N.,  long.  135°  50'  W.  It  was  the  head- 
quarters of  the  different  colonies  of  the  Russian 
Fur  Company,  and  the  common  rendezvous  of  the 
American  vessels  trading  along  the  coast. 

The  Beaver  met  with  nothing  worthy  of  partic- 
ular mention  in  her  voyage,  and  arrived  at  New 
Archangel  on  the  igth  of  August.  The  place  at 
that  time  was  the  residence  of  Count  Baranhoff, 
the  governor  of  the  different  colonies,  a  rough, 
rugged,  hospitable,  hard-drinking  old  Russian  ; 
somewhat  of  a  soldier,  somewhat  of  a  trader  ; 
above  all,  a  boon  companion  of  the  old  roystering 
school,  with  a  strong  cross  of  the  bear. 

Mr.  Hunt  found  this  hyperborean  veteran  en- 
sconced in  a  fort  which  crested  the  whole  of  a 
high  rocky  promontory.  It  mounted  one  hundred 
guns,  large  and  small,  and  was  impregnable  to 
Indian  attack,  unaided  by  artillery.  Here  the 
old  governor  lorded  it  over  sixty  Russians  who 
formed  the  corps  of  the  trading  establishment, 
besides  an  indefinite  number  of  Indian  hunters  of 
the  Kocliak  tribe,  who  were  continually  coming 
and  going,  or  lounging  and  loitering  about  the 
fort  like  so  many  hounds  round  a  sportsman's 
hunting  quarters.  Though  a  loose  liver  among 
his  guests,  the  governor  was  a  strict  disciplinarian 
among  his  men,  keeping  them  in  perfect  subjec- 
tion, and  having  seven  on  guard  night  and  day. 

Besides  those  immediate  serfs  and  dependents 
just  mentioned,  the  old  Russian  potentate  exerted 
a  considerable  sway  over  a  numerous  and  irregu- 
lar class  of  maritime  traders,  who  looked  to  him 
for  aid  and  munitions,  and  through  whom  he  may 
be  said  to  have,  in  some  degree,  extended  his 
power  along  the  whole  northwest  coast.  These 
were  American  captains  of  vessels  engaged  in  a 
particular  department  of  trade.  One  of  these  cap- 
tains would  come,  in  a  manner,  empty-handed  to 


New  Archangel.  Here  his  ship  would  be  fur- 
nished with  about  fifty  canoes  and  a  hundred  Ko- 
diak  hunters,  and  fitted  out  with  provisions,  and 
everything  necessary  for  hunting  the  sea-otter  on 
the  coast  of  California,  where  the  Russians  have 
another  establishment.  The  ship  would  ply  along 
the  Calif ornian  coast  from  place  to  place,  drop- 
ping parties  of  otter  hunters  in  their  canoes,  fur- 
nishing them  only  with  water,  and  leaving  them 
to  depend  upon  their  own  dexterity  for  a  mainte- 
nance. When  a  sufficient  cargo  was  collected 
she  would  gather  up  her  canoes  and  hunters,  and 
return  with  them  to  Archangel,  where  the  cap- 
tain would  render  in  the  returns  of  his  voyage, 
and  receive  one  half  of  the  skins  for  his  share. 

Over  these  coasting  captains,  as  we  have  hinted, 
the  veteran  governor  exerted  some  sort  of  sway, 
but  it  was  of  a  peculiar  and  characteristic  kind  ; 
it  was  the  tyranny  of  the  table.  They  were  obliged 
to  join  him  in  his  "  prosnics"  or  carousals,  and 
to  drink  "  potations  pottle  deep."  His  carousals, 
too,  were  not  of  the  most  quiet  kind,  nor  were 
his  potations  as  mild  as  nectar.  "  He  is  contin- 
ually," said  Mr.  Hunt,  "  giving  entertainments 
by  way  of  parade,  and  if  you  do  not  drink  raw 
rum,  and  boiling  punch  as  strong  as  sulphur,  he 
will  insult  you  as  soon  as  he  gets  drunk,  which  is 
very  shortly  after  sitting  down  to  table." 

As  to  any  "temperance  captain"  who  stood 
fast  to  his  faith,  and  refused  to  give  up  his  sobri- 
ety, he  might  go  elsewhere  for  a  market,  for  he 
stood  no  chance  with  the  governor.  Rarely, 
however,  did  any  cold-water  caitiff  of  the  kind 
darken  the  door  of  old  Baranhoff  ;  the  coasting 
captains  knew  too  well  his  humor  and  their  own 
interests  ;  they  joined  in  his  revels,  they  drank, 
and  sang,  and  whooped,  and  hiccuped,  until  they 
all  got  "  half  seas  over,"  and  then  affairs  went  on 
swimmingly. 

An  awful  warning  to  all  "  flinchers"  occurred 
shortly  before  Mr.  Hunt's  arrival.  A  young  naval 
officer  had  recently  been  sent  out  by  the  emperor 
to  take  command  of  one  of  the  company's  vessels. 
The  governor,  as  usual,  had  him  at  his  "  pros- 
nics," and  plied  him  with  fiery  potations.  The 
young  man  stood  on  the  defensive  until  the  old 
count's  ire  was  completely  kindled  ;  he  carried 
his  point,  and  made  the  greenhorn  tipsy,  willy 
nilly.  In  proportion  as  they  grew  fuddled  they 
grew  noisy,  they  quarrelled  in  their  cups  ;  the 
youngster  paid  old  Baranhoff  in  his  own  coin  by 
rating  him  soundly  ;  in  reward  for  which,  when 
sober,  he  was  taken  the  rounds  of  four  pickets, 
and  received  seventy-nine  lashes,  taled  out  with 
Russian  punctuality  of  punishment. 

Such  was  the  old  grizzled  bear  with  whom  Mr. 
Hunt  had  to  do  his  business.  How  he  managed 
to  cope  with  his  humor  ;  whether  he  pledged 
himself  in  raw  rum  and  blazing  punch,  and 
"  clinked  the  can"  with  him  as  they  made  their 
bargains,  does  not  appear  upon  record  ;  we  must 
infer,  however,  from  his  general  observations  on 
the  absolute  sway  of  this  hard-drinking  potentate, 
that  he  had  to  conform  to  the  customs  of  his 
court,  and  that  their  business  transactions  pre- 
sented a  maudlin  mixture  of  punch  and  peltry. 

The  greatest  annoyance  to  Mr.  Hunt,  however, 
was  the  delay  to  which  he  was  subjected  in  dis- 
posing of  the  cargo  of  the  ship  and  getting  the  re- 
quisite returns.  With  all  the  governor's  devotions 
to  the  bottle,  he  never  obfuscated  his  faculties 
sufficiently  to  lose  sight  of  his  interest,  and  is  rep- 
resented by  Mr.  Hunt  as  keen,  not  to  say  crafty, 
at  a  bargain  as  the  most  arrant  water  drinker.  A 
long  time  was  expended  negotiating  with  him, 


ASTORIA. 


421 


and  by  the  time  the  bargain  was  concluded,  the 
month  of  October  had  arrived.  To  add  to  the  de- 
lay he  was  to  be  paid  for  his  cargo  in  seal  skins. 
Now  it  so  happened  that  there  was  none  of  this 
kind  of  peltry  at  the  fort  of  old  Baranhoff.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  lor  Mr.  Hunt  to  proceed  to  a 
seal-catching  establishment,  which  the  Russian 
company  had  at  the  island  of  St.  Paul  in  the  sea  of 
Kamschatka.  He  accordingly  set  sail  on  the  4th 
of  October,  after  having  spent  forty-five  days  at 
New  Archangel,  boosing  and  bargaining  with  its 
roystering  commander,  and  right  glad  was  he  to 
escape  from  the  clutches  of  this  "  old  man  of  the 
sea. " 

The  Beaver  arrived  at  St.  Paul's  on  the  3ist  of 
October  ;  by  which  time,  according  to  arrange- 
ment, he  ought  to  have  been  back  at  Astoria. 
The  island  of  St.  Paul's  is  in  latitude  57°  N.,  lon- 
gitude 170°  or  171°  W.  Its  shores  in  certain 
places,  and  at  certain  seasons,  are  covered  with 
seals,  while  others  are  playing  about  in  the  water. 
Of  these,  the  Russians  take  only  the  small  ones, 
from  seven  to  ten  months  old,  and  carefully  se- 
lect the  males,  giving  the  females  their  freedom, 
that  the  breed  may  not  be  diminished.  The 
islanders,  however,  kill  the  large  ones  for  pro- 
visions, and  for  skins  wherewith  to  cover  their 
canoes.  They  drive  them  from  the  shore  over  the 
rocks,  until  within  a  short  distance  of  their  habi- 
tations, where  they  kill  them.  By  this  means 
they  save  themselves  the  trouble  of  carrying  the 
skins,  and  have  the  flesh  at  hand.  This  is  thrown 
in  heaps,  and  when  the  season  for  skinning  is 
over,  they  take  out  the  entrails  and  make  one 
heap  of  the  blubber.  This  with  drift-wood  serves 
for  fuel,  for  the  island  is  entirely  destitute  of  trees. 
They  make  another  heap  of  the  flesh,  which,  with 
the  eggs  of  sea-fowls,  preserved  in  oil,  an  occasional 
sea-lion,  a  few  ducks  in  winter,  and  some  wild 
roots,  compose  their  food. 

Mr.  Hunt  found  seven  Russians  at  the  island, 
and  one  hundred  hunters,  natives  of  Oonalaska, 
with  their  families.  They  lived  in  cabins  that 
looked  like  canoes  ;  being,  for  the  most  part, 
formed  of  the  jaw-bone  of  a  whale,  put  up  as  raft- 
ers, across  which  were  laid  pieces  of  drift-wood 
covered  over  with  long  grass,  the  skins  of  large  sea 
animals,  and  earth,  so  as  to  be  quite  comfort- 
able, in  despite  of  the  rigors  of  the  climate  ;  though 
we  are  told  they  had  as  ancient  and  fish-like  an 
odor,  "  as  had  the  quarters  of  Jonah,  when  he 
lodged  within  the  whale." 

In  one  of  these  odoriferous  mansions  Mr.  Hunt 
occasionally  took  up  his  abode,  that  he  might  be 
at  hand  to  hasten  the  loading  of  the  ship.  The 
operation,  however,  was  somewhat  slow,  for  it 
was  necessary  to  overhaul  and  inspect  every  pack 
to  prevent  imposition,  and  the  peltries  had  then  to 
be  conveyed  in  large  boats,  made  of  skins,  to  the 
ship,  which  was  some  little  distance  from  the 
shore,  standing  off  and  on. 

One  night,  while  Mr.  Hunt  was  on  shore,  with 
some  others  of  the  crew,  there  rose  a  terrible  gale. 
When  the  day  broke  the  ship  was  not  to  be  seen. 
He  watched  for  her  with  anxious  eyes  until  night, 
but  in  vain.  Day  after  day  of  boisterous  storms 
and  howling  wintry  weather  were  passed  in 
watchfulness  and  solicitude.  Nothing  was  to  be 
seen  but  a  dark  and  angry  sea,  and  a  scowling 
northern  sky  ;  and  at  night  he  retired  within  the 
jaws  of  the  whale,  and  nestled  disconsolately 
among  seal  skins. 

At  length,  on  the  I3th  of  November,  the  Beaver 
made  her  appearance,  much  the  worse  for  the 
stormy  conflicts  she  had  sustained  in  those  hyper- 


borean seas.  She  had  been  obliged  to  carry  a 
press  of  sail  in  heavy  gales,  to  be  able  to  hold 
her  ground,  and  had  consequently  sustained  great 
damage  in  her  canvas  and  rigging.  Mr.  Hunt 
lost  no  time  in  hurrying  the  residue  of  the  cargo 
on  board  of  her  ;  then,  bidding  adieu  to  his  seal- 
fishing  friends  and  his  whalebone  habitation,  he 
put  forth  once  more  to  sea. 

He  was  now  for  making  the  best  of  his  way  to 
Astoria,  and  fortunate  would  it  have  been  for  the 
interests  of  that  place,  and  the  interests  of  Mr. 
Astor,  had  he  done  so  ;  but,  unluckily,  a  perplex- 
ing question  rose  in  his  mind.  The  sails  and  rig- 
ging of  the  Beaver  had  been  much  rent  and  shat- 
tered in  the  late  storm  ;  would  she  be  able  to 
stand  the  hard  gales  to  be  expected  in  making 
Columbia  River  at  this  season  ?  Was  it  prudent, 
also,  at  this  boisterous  time  of  the  year,  to  risk  the 
valuable  cargo  which  she  now  had  on  board,  by 
crossing  and  recrossing  the  dangerous  bar  of  that 
river  ?  These  doubts  were  probably  suggested 
or  enforced  by  Captain  Sovvle,  who,  it  has  already 
been  seen,  was  an  over-cautious,  or  rather  a 
timid  seaman,  and  they  may  have  had  some 
weight  with  Mr.  Hunt  ;  but  there  were  other 
considerations  which  more  strongly  swayed  his 
mind.  The  lateness  of  the  season,  and  the  un- 
foreseen delays  the  ship  had  encountered  at  New 
Archangel,  and  by  being  obliged  to  proceed  to 
St.  Paul's,  had  put  her  so  much  back  in  her  cal- 
culated time,  that  there  was  a  risk  of  her  arriving 
so  late  at  Canton  as  to  come  to  a  bad  market, 
both  for  the  sale  of  her  peltries  and  the  purchase 
of  a  return  cargo.  He  considered  it  to  the  inter- 
est of  the  company,  therefore,  that  he  should  pro- 
ceed at  once  to  the  Sandwich  Islands  ;  there  wait 
the  arrival  of  the  annual  vessel  from  New  York, 
take  passage  in  her  to  Astoria,  and  suffer  the 
Beaver  to  continue  on  to  Canton.  - 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  urged  to  the  other 
course  by  his  engagements  ;  by  the  plan  of  the 
voyage  marked  out  for  the  Beaver,  by  Mr.  Astor  ; 
by  his  inclination  and  the  possibility  that  the  es- 
tablishment might  need  his  presence,  and  by  the 
recollection  that  there  must  already  be  a  large 
amount  of  peltries  collected  at  Astoria,  and  wait- 
ing lor  the  return  of  the  Beaver  to  convey  them  to 
market. 

These  conflicting  questions  perplexed  and  agi- 
tated his  mind,  and  gave  rise  to  much  anxious  re- 
flection, for  he  was  a  conscientious  man,  that 
seems  ever  to  have  aimed  at  a  faithful  discharge 
of  his  duties,  and  to  have  had  the  interests  of  his 
employers  earnestly  at  heart.  His  decision  in  the 
present  instance  was  injudicious,  and  proved  un- 
fortunate. It  was,  to  bear  away  for  the  Sandwich 
Islands.  He  persuaded  himself  that  it  was  a 
matter  of  necessity,  and  that  the  distressed  condi- 
tion of  the  ship  left  him  no  other  alternative  ;  but 
we  rather  suspect  he  was  so  persuaded  by  the  rep- 
resentations of  the  timid  captain.  They  accord- 
ingly stood  lor  the  Sandwich  Islands,  arrived  at 
Woahoo,  where  the  ship  underwent  the  necessary 
repairs,  and  again  put  to  sea  on  the  1st  of  Janu- 
ary, 1813,  leaving  Mr.  Hunt  on  the  island. 

We  will  follow  the  Beaver  to  Canton,  as  her 
fortunes,  in  some  measure,  exemplified  the  evil  of 
commanders  of  ships  acting  contrary  to  orders, 
and  as  they  form  a  part  of  the  tissue  of  cross-pur- 
poses that  marred  the  great  commercial  enterprise 
we  have  undertaken  to  record. 

The  Beaver  arrived  safe  at  Canton,  where 
Captain  Sowle  found  the  letter  of  Mr.  Astor,  giv- 
ing him  information  of  the  war,  and  directing  him: 
to  convey  the  intelligence  to  Astoria.  He  wrote  a: 


422 


ASTORIA. 


reply,  dictated  either  by  timidity  or  obstinacy,  in 
which  he  declined  complying  with  the  orders  of 
Mr.  Astor,  but  said  he  would  wait  for  the  return 
of  peace,  and  then  come  home.  The  other  pro- 
ceedings of  Captain  Sowle  were  equally  wrong- 
headed  and  unlucky.  He  was  offered  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  the  fur  he  had 
taken  on  board  at  St.  Paul's.  The  goods  for 
which  it  had  been  procured  cost  but  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  in  New  York.  Had  he  accepted 
this  offer,  and  reinvested  the  amount  in  nankeens, 
which  at  that  time,  in  consequence  of  the  inter- 
ruption to  commerce  by  the  war,  were  at  two 
thirds  of  their  usual  price,  the  whole  would  have 
brought  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  New 
York.  It  is  true,  the  war  would  have  render- 
ed it  unsafe  to  attempt  the  homeward  voyage,  but 
he  might  have  put  the  goods  in  store  at  Canton, 
until  after  the  peace,  and  have  sailed  without  risk 
of  capture  to  Astoria  ;  bringing  to  the  partners  at 
that  place  tidings  of  the  great  profits  realized  on 
the  outward  cargo,  and  the  still  greater  to  be  ex- 
pected from  the  returns.  The  news  of  such  a 
brilliant  commencement  to  their  undertaking 
would  have  counterbalanced  the  gloomy  tidings 
of  the  war  ;  it  would  have  infused  new  spirit  into 
them  all,  and  given  them  courage  and  constancy 
to  persevere  in  the  enterprise.  Captain  Sowle, 
however,  refused  the  offer  of  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  stood  wavering  and 
chaffering  for  higher  terms.  The  furs  began  to 
fall  in  value  ;  this  only  increased  his  irresolution  ; 
they  sunk  so  much  that  he  feared  to  sell  at  all  ;  he 
borrowed  money  on  Mr.  Astor's  account  at  an 
interest  of  eighteen  per  cent,  and  laid  up  his  ship 
to  await  the  return  of  peace. 

In  the  meanwhile  Mr.  Hunt  soon  saw  reason 
to  repent  the  resolution  he  had  adopted  in  alter- 
ing the  destination  of  the  ship.  His  stay  at  the 
Sandwich  Islands  was  prolonged  far  beyond  all 
expectation.  He  looked  in  vain  for  the  annual 
ship  in  the  spring.  Month  after  month  passed 
by,  and  still  she  did  not  make  her  appearance. 
He,  too,  proved  the  danger  of  departing  from  or- 
ders. Had  he  returned  from  St.  Paul's  to  Astoria, 
all  the  anxiety  and  despondency  about  his  fate, 
and  about  the  whole  course  of  the  undertaking, 
would  have  been  obviated.  The  Beaver  would 
have  received  the  furs  collected  at  the  factory, 
and  taken  them  to  Canton,  and  great  gains,  in- 
stead of  great  losses,  would  have  been  the  result. 
The  greatest  blunder,  however,  was  that  commit- 
ted by  Captain  Sowle. 

At  length,  about  the  2oth  of  June,  the  ship  Al- 
batross, Captain  Smith,  arrived  from  China,  and 
brought  the  first  tidings  of  the  war  to  the  Sand- 
wich Islands.  Mr.  Hunt  was  no  longer  in  doubt 
and  perplexity  as  to  the  reason  of  the  non-appear- 
ance of  the  annual  ship.  His  first  thoughts  were 
for  the  welfare  of  Astoria,  and,  concluding  that 
the  inhabitants  would  probably  be  in  want  of  pro- 
visions, he  chartered  the  Albatross  for  two  thou- 
sand dollars,  to  land  him,  with  some  supplies,  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  where  he  arrived,  as 
we  have  seen,  on  the  2oth  of  August,  after  a 
year's  seafaring  that  might  have  furnished  a  chap- 
ter in  the  wanderings  of  Sinbad. 


CHAPTER  LVIII. 

MR.  HUNT  was  overwhelmed  with  surprise 
\vhen  he  learnt  the  resolution  taken  by  the  part- 
ners to  abandon  Astoria.  He  soon  found,  how- 
ever, that  matters  had  gone  too  far,  and  the 


minds  of  his  colleagues  had  become  too  firmly 
bent  upon  the  measure,  to  render  any  opposition 
of  avail.  He  was  beset,  too,  with  the  same  dis- 
paraging accounts  of  the  interior  trade,  and  of 
the  whole  concerns  and  prospects  of  the  company 
that  had  been  rendered  to  Mr.  Astor.  His  own 
experience  had  been  full  of  perplexities  and  dis- 
couragements. He  had  a  conscientious  anxiety 
for  the  interests  of  Mr.  Astor,  and,  not  compre- 
hending the  extended  views  of  that  gentleman, 
and  his  habit  of  operating  with  great  amounts,  he 
had  from  the  first  been  daunted  by  the  enormous 
expenses  required,  and  had  become  disheartened 
by  the  subsequent  losses  sustained,  which  ap- 
peared to  him  to  be  ruinous  in  their  magnitude. 
By  degrees,  therefore,  he  was  brought  to  ac- 
quiesce in  the  step  taken  by  his  colleagues,  as 
perhaps  advisable  in  the  exigencies  of  the  case  ; 
his  only  care  was  to  wind  up  the  business  with  as 
little  further  loss  as  possible  to  Mr.  Astor. 

A  large  stock  of  valuable  furs  was  collected  at 
the  lactory,  which  it  was  necessary  to  get  to  a 
market.  There  were  twenty  -  five  Sandwich 
Islanders,  also,  in  the  employ  of  the  company, 
whom  they  were  bound  by  express  agreement  to 
restore  to  their  native  country.  For  these  pur- 
poses a  ship  was  necessary. 

The  Albatross  was  bound  to  the  Marquesas, 
and  thence  to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  It  was  re- 
solved that  Mr.  Hunt  should  sail  in  her  in  quest 
of  a  vessel,  and  should  return,  if  possible,  by  the 
ist  of  January,  bringing  with  him  a  supply  of  pro- 
visions. Should  anything  occur,  however,  to  pre- 
vent his  return,  an  arrangement  was  to  be  pro- 
posed to  Mr.  M'Tavish,  to  transfer  such  of  the 
men  as  were  so  disposed,  from  the  service  of  the 
American  Fur  Company  into  that  of  the  North- 
west, the  latter  becoming  responsible  for  the 
wages  due  them,  on  receiving  an  equivalent  in 
goods  from  the  storehouse  of  the  factory.  As  a 
means  of  facilitating  the  dispatch  of  business,  Mr. 
M'Dougal  proposed,  that  in  case  Mr.  Hunt  should 
not  return,  the  whole  arrangement  with  Mr. 
M'Tavish  should  be  left  solely  to  him.  This 
was  assented  to,  the  contingency  being  considered 
possible,  but  not  probable. 

It  is  proper  to  note,  that  on  the  first  announce- 
ment by  Mr.  M'Dougal  of  his  intention  to  break 
up  the  establishment,  three  of  the  clerks,  British 
subjects,  had,  with  his  consent,  passed  into  the 
service  of  the  Northwest  Company,  and  departed 
with  Mr.  M'Tavish  for  his  post  in  the  interior. 

Having  arranged  all  these  matters  during  a  so- 
journ of  six  days  at  Astoria,  Mr.  Hunt  set  sail  in 
the  Albatross  on  the  26th  of  August,  and  arrived 
without  accident  at  the  Marquesas.  He  had  not 
been  there  long  when  Porter  arrived  in  the  frigate 
Essex,  bringing  in  a  number  of  stout  London 
whalers  as  prizes,  having  made  a  sweeping  cruise 
in  the  Pacific.  From  Commodore  Porter  he  re- 
ceived the  alarming  intelligence  that  the  British 
frigate  Phoebe,  with  a  storeship,  mounted  with 
battering  pieces,  calculated  to  attack  forts,  had 
arrived  at  Rio  Janeiro,  where  she  had  been  joined 
by  the  sloops  of  war  Cherub  and  Racoon,  and 
that  they  had  all  sailed  in  company  on  the  6th  of 
July  for  the  Pacific,  bound,  as  it  was  supposed,  to 
Columbia  River. 

Here,  then,  was  the  death-warrant  of  unfortu- 
nate Astoria  !  The  anxious  mind  of  Mr.  Hunt 
was  in  greater  perplexity  than  ever.  He  had  been 
eager  to  extricate  the  property  of  Mr.  Astor  from 
a  failing  concern  with  as  little  loss  as  possible  ; 
there  was  now  danger  that  the  whole  would  be 
swallowed  up.  How  was  it  to  be  snatched  from 


ASTORIA. 


423 


the  gulf  ?  It  was  impossible  to  charter  a  ship  for 
the  purpose,  now  that  a  British  squadron  was  on 
its  way  to  the  river.  He  applied  to  purchase  one 
of  the  whale-ships  brought  in  by  Commodore 
Porter.  The  commodore  demanded  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  for  her.  The  price  appeared  ex- 
orbitant, and  no  bargain  could  be  made.  Mr. 
Hunt  then  urged  the  commodore  to  fit  out  one  of 
his  prizes,  and  send  her  to  Astoria  to  bring  off  the 
property  and  part  of  the  people,  but  he  declined, 
"  from  want  of  authority."  He  assured  Mr. 
Hunt,  however,  that  he  would  endeavor  to  fall 
in  with  the  enemy,  or,  should  he  hear  of  their  hav- 
ing certainly  gone  to  the  Columbia,  he  would 
either  follow  or  anticipate  them,  should  his  cir- 
cumstances warrant  such  a  step. 

In  this  tantalizing  state  of  suspense,  Mr.  Hunt 
was  detained  at  the  Marquesas  until  November 
23d,  when  he  proceeded  in  the  Albatross  to  the 
Sandwich  Islands.  He  still  cherished  a  faint  hope 
that,  notwithstanding  the  war,  and  all  other  dis- 
couraging circumstances,  the  annual  ship  might 
have  been  sent  by  Mr.  Astor,  and  might  have 
touched  at  the  islands,  and  proceeded  to  the  Co- 
lumbia. He  knew  the  pride  and  interest  taken 
by  that  gentleman  in  his  great  enterprise,  and 
that  he  would  not  be  deterred  by  dangers  and 
difficulties  from  prosecuting  it  ;  much  less  would 
he  leave  the  infant  establishment  without  succor 
and  support  in  the  time  of  trouble.  In  this,  we 
have  seen,  he  did  but  justice  to  Mr.  Astor  ;  and 
we  must  now  turn  to  notice  the  cause  of  the  non- 
arrival  of  the  vessel  which  he  had  dispatched 
with  reinforcements  and  supplies.  Her  voyage 
forms  another  chapter  of  accidents  in  this  event- 
ful story. 

The  Lark  sailed  from  New  York  on  the  6th  of 
March,  1813,  and  proceeded  prosperously  on  her 
voyage,  until  within  a  few  degrees  of  the  Sand- 
wich Islands.  Here  a  gale  sprang  up  that  soon 
blew  with  tremendous  violence.  The  Lark  was  a 
staunch  and  noble  ship,  and  for  a  time  buffeted 
bravely  with  the  storm.  Unluckily,  however, 
she  "broached  to,"  and  was  struck  by  a  heavy 
sea,  that  hove  her  on  her  beam-ends.  The  helm, 
too,  was  knocked  to  leeward,  all  command  of  the 
vessel  was  lost,  and  another  mountain  wave  com- 
pletely overset  her.  Orders  were  given  to  cut 
away  the  masts.  In  the  hurry  and  confusion  the 
boats  were  also  unfortunately  cut  adrift.  The 
wreck  then  righted,  but  was  a  mere  hulk,  full  of 
water,  with  a  heavy  sea  washing  over  it,  and  all 
the  hatches  off.  On  mustering  the  crew,  one 
man  was  missing,  who  was  discovered  below  in 
the  forecastle,  drowned. 

In  cutting  away  the  masts  it  had  been  utterly 
impossible  to  observe  the  necessary  precaution  of 
commencing  with  the  lee  rigging,  that  being,  from 
the  position  of  the  ship,  completely  under  water. 
The  masts  and  spars,  therefore,  being  linked  to 
the  wreck  by  the  shrouds  and  rigging,  remained 
alongside  for  four  days.  During  all  this  time  the 
ship  lay  rolling  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  the  heavy 
surges  breaking  over  her,  and  the  spars  heaving 
and  banging  to  and  fro,  bruising  the  half-drowned 
sailors  that  clung  to  the  bowsprit  and  the  stumps 
of  the  masts.  The  sufferings  of  these  poor  fel- 
lows were  intolerable.  They  stood  to  their  waists 
in  water,  in  imminent  peril  of  being  washed  off  by 
every  surge.  In  this  position  they  dared  not  sleep, 
lest  they  should  let  go  their  hold  and  be  swept 
away.  The  only  dry  place  on  the  wreck  was  the 
bowsprit.  Here  they  took  turns  to  be  tied  on,  ior 
half  an  hour  at  a  time,  and  in  this  way  gained 
short  snatches  of  sleep. 


On  the  I4th  the  first  mate  died  at  his  post,  and 
was  swept  off  by  the  surges.  On  the  I7th  two 
seamen,  faint  and  exhausted,  were  washed  over- 
board. The  next  wave  threw  their  bodies  back 
upon  the  deck,  where  they  remained,  swashing 
backward  and  forward,  ghastly  objects  to  the  al- 
most perishing  survivors.  Mr.  Ogden,  the  super- 
cargo, who  was  at  the  bowsprit,  called  to  the  men 
nearest  to  the  bodies  to  fasten  them  to  the  wreck, 
as  a  last  horrible  resource  in  case  of  being  driven 
to  extremity  by  famine  ! 

On  the  i  yth  the  gale  gradually  subsided,  and 
the  sea  became  calm.  The  sailors  now  crawled 
feebly  about  the  wreck,  and  began  to  relieve  it 
from  the  main  incumbrances.  The  spars  were 
cleared  away,  the  anchors  and  guns  heaved  over- 
board ;  the  spritsail  yard  was  rigged  for  a  jury- 
mast,  and  a  mizzen-topsail  set  upon  it.  A  sort  of 
stage  was  made  of  a  few  broken  spars,  on  which 
the  crew  were  raised  above  the  surface  of  the 
water,  so  as  to  be  enabled  to  keep  themselves  dry 
and  to  sleep  comfortably.  Still  their  sufferings 
from  hunger  and  thirst  were  great  ;  but  there  was 
a  Sandwich  Islander  on  board,  an  expert  swim- 
mer, who  found  his  way  into  the  cabin  and  occa- 
sionally brought  up  a  few  bottles  of  wine  and 
porter,  and  at  length  got  into  the  run,  and  secured 
a  quarter  cask  of  wine.  A  little  raw  pork  was 
likewise  procured,  and  dealt  out  with  a  sparing 
hand.  The  horrors  of  their  situation  were  in- 
creased by  the  sight  of  numerous  sharks  prowling 
about  the  wreck,  as  if  waiting  for  their  prey.  On 
the  24th  the  cook,  a  black  man,  died,  and  was 
cast  into  the  sea,  when  he  was  instantly  seized  on 
by  these  ravenous  monsters. 

They  had  been  several  days  making  slow  head- 
way under  their  scanty  sail,  when,  on  the  25th, 
they  came  in  sight  of  land.  It  was  about  fifteen 
leagues  distant,  and  they  remained  two  or  three 
days  drifting  along  in  sight  of  it.  On  the  28th 
they  descried,  to  their  great  transport,  a  canoe  ap- 
proaching, managed  by  natives.  They  came 
alongside,  and  brought  a  most  welcome  supply  of 
potatoes.  They  informed  them  that  the  land  they 
had  made  was  one  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  The 
second  mate  and  one  of  the  seamen  went  on 
shore  in  the  canoe  for  water  and  provisions,  and 
to  procure  aid  from  the  islanders,  in  towing  the 
wreck  into  a  harbor. 

Neither  of  the  men  returned,  nor  was  any  assist- 
ance sent  from  shore.  The  next  day,  ten  or  twelve 
canoes  came  alongside,  but  roamed  round  the 
wreck  like  so  many  sharks,  and  would  render  no 
aid  in  towing  her  to  land. 

The  sea  continued  to  break  over  the  vessel 
with  such  violence  that  it  was  impossible  to 
stand  at  the  helm  without  the  assistance  of 
lashings.  The  crew  were  now  so  worn  down 
by  iamine  and  thirst  that  the  captain  saw 
it  would  be  impossible  lor  them  to  with- 
stand the  breaking  of  the  sea,  when  the  ship 
should  ground  ;  he  deemed  the  only  chance  for 
their  lives,  therefore,  was  to  get  to  land  in  the 
canoes,  and  stand  ready  to  receive  and  protect 
the  wreck  when  she  should  drift  to  shore.  Ac- 
cordingly, they  all  got  safe  to  land,  but  had 
scarcely  touched  the  beach  when  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  natives,  who  stripped  them  almost 
naked.  The  name  of  this  inhospitable  island  was 
Tahoorowa. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  the  wreck  came  drift- 
ing to  the  strand,  with  the  surf  thundering  around 
her,  and  shortly  afterward  bilged.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  numerous  casks  of  provisions  floated 
on  shore.  The  natives  staved  them  for  the  sake 


424 


ASTORIA. 


of  the  iron  hoops,  but  would  not  allow  the  crew 
to  help  themselves  to  the  contents,  or  to  go  on 
board  of  the  wreck. 

As  the  crew  were  in  want  of  everything-,  and 
as  it  might  be  a  long  time  before  any  opportunity 
occurred  for  them  to  get  away  from  these  islands, 
Mr.  Ogden,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  a  chance, 
made  his  way  to  the  island  of  Owyhee,  and  en- 
deavored to-  make  some  arrangement  with  the 
king  tor  the  relief  of  his  companions  in  misfor- 
tune. 

The  illustrious  Tamaahmaah,  as  we  have  shown 
on  a  former  occasion,  was  a  shrewd  bargainer, 
and  in  the  present  instance  proved  himself  an 
experienced  wrecker.  His  negotiations  with 
M'Dougal  and  the  other  "  Erisof  the  great  Amer- 
ican Fur  Company"  had  but  little  effect  on  pres- 
ent circumstances,  and  he  proceeded  to  avail 
himself  of  their  misfortunes.  He  agreed  to  fur- 
nish the  crew  with  provisions  during  their  stay  in 
his  terVitories,  and  to  return  to  them  all  their 
clothing  that  could  be  found,  but  he  stipulated 
that  the  wreck  should  be  abandoned  to  him  as  a 
waif  cast  by  fortune  on  his  shores.  With  these 
conditions  Mr.  Ogden  was  fain  to  comply.  Upon 
this  the  great  Tamaahmaah  deputed  his  favorite, 
John  Young,  the  tarpawlin  governor  of  Oywhee, 
to  proceed  with  a  number  of  the  royal  guards,  and 
take  possession  of  the  wreck  on  behalf  of  the 
crown.  This  was  done  accordingly,  and  the 
property  and  crew  were  removed  to  Owyhee. 
The  royal  bounty  appears  to  have  been  but  scanty 
in  its  dispensations.  The  crew  fared  but  meagre- 
ly ;  though  on  reading  the  journal  of  the  voyage 
it  is  singular  to  find  them,  after  all  the  hardships 
they  had  suffered,  so  sensitive  about  petty  incon- 
veniences as  to  exclaim  against  the  king  as  a 
"  savage  monster,"  for  refusing  them  a  "  pot  to 
cook  in,"  and  denying  Mr.  Ogden  the  use  of  a 
knife  and  fork  which  had  been  saved  from  the 
wreck. 

Such  was  the  unfortunate  catastrophe  of  the 
Lark  ;  had  she  reached  her  destination  in  safety, 
viffairs  at  Astoria  might  have  taken  a  different 
course.  A  strange  fatality  seems  to  have  attend- 
ed all  the  expeditions  by  sea,  nor  were  those  by 
land  much  less  disastrous. 

Captain  Northrop  was  still  at  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  on  December  2oth,  when  Mr.  Hunt  ar- 
rived. The  latter  immediately  purchased  for  ten 
thousand  dollars  a  brig  called  the  Pedler,  and 
put  Captain  Northrop  in  command  of  her.  They 
set  sail  for  Astoria  on  the  22d  of  January,  intend- 
ing to  remove  the  property  from  thence  as  speed- 
ily as  possible  to  the  Russian  settlements  on  the 
northwest  coast,  to  prevent  it  from  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  British.  Such  were  the  orders  of 
Mr.  Astor,  sent  out  by  the  Lark. 

We  will  now  leave  Mr.  Hunt  on  his  voyage, 
and  return  to  see  what  has  taken  place  at  Astoria 
during  his  absence. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

ON  the  2d  of  October,  about  five  weeks  after  Mr. 
Hunt  had  sailed  in  the  Albatross  from  Astoria, 
Mr.  M'Kenzie  set  off,  with  two  canoes  and  twelve 
men,  for  the  posts  of  Messrs.  Stuart  and  Clarke, 
to  apprise  them  of  the  new  arrangements  deter- 
mined upon  in  the  recent  conference  of  the  part- 
ners at  the  factory. 

He  had  not  ascended  the  river  a  hundred  miles, 
when  he  met  a  squadron  of  ten  canoes,  sweeping 


merrily  down  under  British  colors,  the  Canadian 
oarsmen,  as  usual,  in  full  song. 

It  was  an  armament  fitted  out  by  M'Tavish, 
who  had  with  him  Mr.  J.  Stuart,  another  partner 
of  the  Northwest  Company,  together  with  some 
clerks  and  sixty-eight  men — seventy-five  souls 
in  all.  They  had  heard  of  the  frigate  Phoebe  and 
the  Isaac  Todd  being  on  the  high  seas,  and  were 
on  their  way  down  to  await  their  arrival.  In  one 
of  the  canoes  Mr.  Clarke  came  passenger,  the 
alarming  intelligence  having  brought  him  down 
from  his  post  on  the  Spokan.  Mr.  M'Kenzie  im- 
mediately determined  to  return  with  him  to  As- 
toria, and,  veering  about,  the  two  parties  en- 
camped together  for  the  night.  The  leaders,  of 
course,  observed  a  due  decorum,  but  some  of 
the  subalterns  could  not  restrain  their  chuckling 
exultation,  boasting  that  they  would  soon  plant 
the  British  standard  on  the  walls  of  Astoria,  and 
drive  the  Americans  out  of  the  country. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening  Mr.  M'Kenzie  had 
a  secret  conference  with  Mr.  Clarke,  in  which  they 
agreed  to  set  off  privately,  before  daylight,  and 
get  down  in  time  to  apprise  M'Dougal  of  the  ap- 
proach of  these  Northwesters.  The  latter,  how- 
ever, were  completely  on  the  alert  ;  just  as 
M'Kenzie's  canoes  were  about  to  push  off,  they 
were  joined  by  a  couple  from  the  Northwest 
squadron,  in  which  was  M'Tavish  with  two  clerks 
and  eleven  men.  With  these  he  intended  to  push 
forward  and  make  arrangements,  leaving  the  rest 
of  the  convoy,  in  which  was  a  large  quantity  of 
furs,  to  await  his  orders. 

The  two  parties  arrived  at  Astoria  on  the  7th  of 
October.  The  Northwesters  encamped  under  the 
guns  of  the  fort,  and  displayed  the  British  colors. 
The  young  men  in  the  fort,  natives  of  the  United 
States,  were  on  the  point  of  hoisting  the  American 
flag,  but  were  forbidden  by  Mr.  M'Dougal.  They 
were  astonished  at  such  a  prohibition,  and  were 
exceedingly  galled  by  the  tone  and  manner  as- 
sumed by  the  clerks  and  retainers  of  the  North- 
west Company,  who  ruffled  about  in  that  swelling 
and  braggart  style  which  grows  up  among  these 
heroes  of  the  wilderness  ;  they,  in  fact,  consider- 
ed themselves  lords  of  the  ascendant,  and  regard- 
ed the  hampered  and  harassed  Astorians  as  a 
conquered  people. 

On  the  following  day  M'Dougal  convened  the 
clerks,  and  read  to  them  an  extract  of  a  letter 
from  his  uncle,  Mr.  Angus  Shaw,  one  of  the  princi- 
pal partners  of  the  Northwest  Company,  announc- 
ing the  coming  of  the  Phoebe  and  Isaac  Todd, 
"  to  take  and  destroy  everything  American  on  the 
northwest  coast." 

This  intelligence  was  received  without  dismay 
by  such  of  the  clerks  as  were  natives  of  the  United 
States.  They  had  felt  indignant  at  seeing  their 
national  flag  struck  by  a  Canadian  commander, 
and  the  British  flag  flowed,  as  it  were,  in  their 
faces.  They  had  been  stung  to  the  quick,  also, 
by  the  vaunting  airs  assumed' by  the  Northwest- 
ers. In  this  mood  of  mind  they  would  willingly 
have  nailed  their  colors  to  the  staff,  and  defied 
the  frigate.  She  could  not  come  within  many 
miles  of  the  fort,  they  observed,  and  any  boats 
she  might  send  could  be  destroyed  by  their  can- 
non. 

There  were  cooler  and  more  calculating  spirits, 
however,  who  had  the  control  of  affairs,  and  felt 
nothing  of  the  patriotic  pride  and  indignation  of 
these  youths.  The  extract  of  the  letter  had,  ap- 
parently, been  read  by  M'Dougal,  merely  to  pre- 
pare the  way  for  a  preconcerted  stroke  of  man- 
agement. On  the  same  day  Mr.  M'Tavish  pro- 


ASTORIA. 


425 


posed  to  purchase  the  whole  stock  of  goods  and 
furs  belonging  to  the  company,  both  at  Astoria 
and"  in  the  interior,  at  cost  and  charges.  Mr. 
M'Dougal  undertook  to  comply,  assuming  the 
whole  management  of  the  negotiation  in  virtue  of 
the  power  vested  in  him,  in  case  of  the  non-arri- 
val of  Mr.  Hunt.  That  power,  however,  was 
limited  and  specific,  and  did  not  extend  to  an  op- 
eration of  this  nature  and  extent  ;  no  objection, 
however,  was  made  to  his  assumption,  and  he 
and  M'Tavish  soon  made  a  preliminary  arrange- 
ment, perfectly  satisfactory  to  the  latter. 

Mr.  Stuart  and  the  reserve  party  of  Northwest- 
ers arrived,  shortly  afterward,  and  encamped 
with  M'Tavish.  The  former  exclaimed  loudly 
against  the  terms  of  the  arrangement,  and  insisted 
upon  a  reduction  of  the  prices.  New  negotiations 
had  now  to  be  entered  into.  The  demands  of  the 
Northwesters  were  made  in  a  peremptory  tone, 
and  they  seemed  disposed  to  dictate  like  conquer- 
ors. The  Americans  looked  on  with  indignation 
and  impatience.  They  considered  M'Dougal  as 
acting,  if  not  a  perfidious,  certainly  a  craven  part. 
He  was  continually  repairing  to  the  camp  to  ne- 
gotiate, instead  of  keeping  within  his  walls  and 
receiving  overtures  in  his  fortress.  His  case,  they 
observed,  was  not  so  desperate  as  to  excuse  such 
crouching.  He  might,  in  fact,  hold  out  for  his 
own  terms.  The  Northwest  party  had  lost  their 
ammunition  ;  they  had  no  goods  to  trade  with  the 
natives  for  provisions  ;  and  they  were  so  destitute 
that  M'Dougal  had  absolutely  to  feed  them,  while 
he  negotiated  with  them.  He,  on  the  contrary, 
was  well  lodged  and  victualled  ;  had  sixty  men, 
with  arms,  ammunition,  boats,  and  everything 
requisite  either  for  defense  or  retreat.  The  party, 
beneath  the  guns  of  hi?  fort,  were  at  his  mercy  ; 
should  an  enemy  appear  in  the  offing,  he  could 
pack  up  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  property, 
and  retire  to  some  place  of  concealment,  or  make 
off  for  the  interior. 

These  considerations,  however,  had  no  weight 
with  Mr.  M'Dougal,  or  were  overruled  by  other 
motives.  The  terms  of  sale  were  lowered  by  him 
to  the  standard  fixed  by  Mr.  Stuart,  and  an  agree- 
ment executed,  on  the  i6th  of  October,  by  which 
the  furs  and  merchandise  of  all  kinds  in  the 
country,  belonging  to  Mr.  Astor,  passed  into  the 
possession  of  the  Northwest  Company  at  about  a 
third  of  their  real  value.*  A  safe  passage  through 
the  Northwest  posts  was  guaranteed  to  such  as 
did  not  choose  to  enter  into  the  service  of  that 
company,  and  the  amount  of  wages  due  to  them 


*  Not  quite  $40,000  were  allowed  for  furs  worth 
upward  of  $100,000.  Beaver  was  valued  at  two  dol- 
lars per  skin,  though  worth  five  dollars.  Land  otter 
at  fifty  cents,  though  worth  five  dollars.  Sea  otter  at 
twelve  dollars,  worth  from  forty-five  to  sixty  dollars  ; 
and  for  several  kinds  of  furs  nothing  was  allowed. 
Moreover,  the  goods  and  merchandise  for  the  Indian 
trade  ought  to  have  brought  three  times  the  amount 
for  which  they  were  sold. 

The  following  estimate  has  been  made  of  the 
articles  on  hand,  and  the  prices  : 

17,705  Ibs.  beaver  parchment,  valued  at  $2  oo,     worth     $5  oo 


465  old  coat  beaver 
907  land  otter 

68  sea  otter 

3°        "         


i  66, 
5°. 

12   00, 

5  oo, 


3  50 

5  oo 

"  $45-6°  0° 


Nothing  was  allowed  for 


179  mink  skins,  worth  each. 

22  raccoon " 

28  lynx 

18  fox " 

106   "   

71  black  bear. .  . 

16  grizzly  bear          " 


was  to  be  deducted  from  the  price  paid  for  As« 
toria. 

The  conduct  and  motives  of  Mr.  M'Dougal, 
throughout  the  whole  of  this  proceeding,  have 
been  strongly  questioned  by  the  other  partners. 
He  has  been  accused  of  availing  himself  of  a 
wrong  construction  of  powers  vested  in  him  at  his 
own  request,  and  of  sacrificing  the  interests  of 
Mr.  Astor  to  the  Northwest  Company,  under  the 
promise  or  hope  of  advantage  to  himself. 

He  always  insisted,  however,  that  he  made  the 
best  bargain  for  Mr.  Astor  that  circumstances 
would  permit  ;  the  frigate  being  hourly  expected, 
in  which  case  the  whole  property  of  that  gentle- 
man would  be  liable  to  capture.  That  the  return 
of  Mr.  Hunt  was  problematical  ;  the  frigate  in- 
tending to  cruise  along  the  coast  for  two  years, 
and  clear  it  of  all  American  vessels.  He  more- 
over averred,  and  M'Tavish  corroborated  his 
averment  by  certificate,  that  he  proposed  an  ar- 
rangement to  that  gentleman,  by  which  the  furs 
were  to  be  sent  to  Canton,  and  sold  there  at  Mr. 
Astor's  risk,  and  for  his  account  ;  but  the  propo- 
sition was  not  acceded  to. 

Notwithstanding  all  his  representations,  several 
of  the  persons  present  at  the  transaction,  and  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  course  of  the  affair,  and 
among  the  number  Mr.  M'Kenzie  himself,  his  oc- 
casional coadjutor,  remained  firm  in  the  belief 
that  he  had  acted  a  hollow  part.  Neither  did  he 
succeed  in  exculpating  himself  to  Mr.  Astor  ;  that 
gentleman  declaring,  in  a  letter  written  some 
time  afterward,  to  Mr.  Hunt,  that  he  considered 
the  property  virtually  given  away.  "  Had  our 
place  and  our  property,"  he  adds,  "  been  fairly 
captured,  I  should  have  preferred  it.  I  should 
not  feel  as  if  I  were  disgraced." 

All  these  may  be  unmerited  suspicions  ;  but  it 
certainly  is  a  circumstance  strongly  corroborative 
of  them,  that  Mr.  M'Dougal,  shortly  after  conclud- 
ing this  agreement,  became  a  member  of  the 
Northwest  Company,  and  received  a  share  pro- 
ductive of  a  handsome  income. 


CHAPTER  LX. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  3oth  of  November  a  sail 
was  descried  doubling  Cape  Disappointment.  It 
came  to  anchor  in  Baker's  Bay,  and  proved  to  be 
a  ship  of  war.  Of  what  nation  ?  was  now  the 
anxious  inquiry.  If  English,  why  did  it  come 
alone  ?  where  was  the  merchant  vessel  that  was 
to  have  accompanied  it  ?  If  American,  what  was 
to  become  of  the  newly  acquired  possession  of  the 
Northwest  Company. 

In  this  dilemma,  M'Tavish,  in  all  haste,  loaded 
two  barges  with  all  the  packages  of  furs  bearing 
the  mark  of  the  Northwest  Company,  and  made 
off  for  Tongue  Point,  three  miles  up  the  river. 
There  he  was  to  await  a  preconcerted  signal  from 
M'Dougal  on  ascertaining  the  character  of  the 
ship.  If  it  should  prove  American,  M'Tavish 
would  have  a  fair  start,  and  could  bear  off  his 
rich  cargo  to  the  interior.  It  is  singular  that  this 
prompt  mode  of  conveying  valuable,  but  easily 
transportable  effects  beyond  the  reach  of  a  hostile 
ship  should  not  have  suggested  itself  while  the 
property  belonged  to  Mr.  Astor. 

In  the  mean  time  M'Dougal,  who  still  remained 
nominal  chief  at  the  fort,  launched  a  canoe,  manned 
by  men  recently  in  the  employ  of  the  American  Fur 
Company,  and  steered  for  the  ship.  On  the  way 
he  instructed  his  men  to  pass  themselves  for 


ASTORIA. 


Americans  or  Englishmen,  according  to  the  exi- 
gencies of  the  case. 

The  vessel  proved  to  be  the  British  sloop-of-war 
Racoon,  of  twenty-six  guns  and  one  hundred  and 
twenty  men,  commanded  by  Captain  Black.  Ac- 
cording to  the  account  of  that  officer,  the  frigate 
Phoebe,  and  the  two  sloops  -  of  -  war  Cherub 
and  Racoon,  had  sailed  in  convoy  of  the 
Isaac  Todd  from  Rio  Janeiro.  On  board  of  the 
Phoebe  Mr.  John  M' Donald,  a  partner  of  the 
Northwest  Company,  embarked  as  passenger,  to 
profit  by  the  anticipated  catastrophe  at  Astoria. 
The  convoy  was  separated  by  stress  of  weather 
off  Cape  Horn.  The  three  ships  of  war  came  to- 
gether again  at  the  island  of  Juan  Fernandez, 
their  appointed  rendezvous,  but  waited  in  vain  for 
the  Isaac  Todd. 

In  the  mean  time  intelligence  was  received  of 
the  mischief  that  Commodore  Porter  was  doing 
among  the  British  whale-ships.  Commodore  Hill- 
yer  immediately  set  sail  in  quest  of  him,  with  the 
Phoebe  and  the  Cherub,  transferring  Mr.  M' Don- 
ald to  the  Racoon,  and  ordering  that  vessel  to 
proceed  to  the  Columbia. 

The  officers  of  the  Racoon  were  in  high  spirits. 
The  agents  of  the  Northwest  Company,  in  insti- 
gating the  expedition,  had  talked  of  immense 
booty  to  be  made  by  the  fortunate  captors  of  As- 
toria. Mr.  M' Donald  had  kept  up  the  excitement 
during  the  voyage,  so  that  not  a  midshipman  but 
revelled  in  dreams  of  ample  prize-money,  nor  a 
lieutenant  that  would  have  sold  his  chance  for  a 
thousand  pounds.  Their  disappointment,  there- 
fore, may  easily  be  conceived,  when  they  learned 
that  their  warlike  attack  upon  Astoria  had  been 
forestalled  by  a  snug  commercial  arrangement  ; 
that  their  anticipated  booty  had  become  British 
property  in  the  regular  course  of  traffic,  and  that 
all  this  had  been  effected  by  the  very  company 
which  had  been  instrumental  in  getting  them  sent 
on  what  they  now  stigmatized  as  a  fool's  errand. 
They  felt  as  if  they  had  been  duped  and  made 
tools  of,  by  a  set  of  shrewd  men  of  traffic,  who 
had  employed  them  to  crack  the  nut  while  they 
carried  off  the  kernel.  In  a  word,  M'Dougal 
found  himself  so  ungraciously  received  by  his 
countrymen  on  board  of  the  ship,  that  he  was 
glad  to  cut  short  his  visit  and  return  to  shore. 
He  was  busy  at  the  fort  making  preparations  for 
the  reception  of  the  captain  of  the  Racoon,  when 
his  one-eyed  Indian  father-in-law  made  his  appear- 
ance, with  a  train  of  Chinook  warriors,  all  painted 
and  equipped  in  warlike  style. 

Old  Comcomly  had  beheld,  with  dismay,  the  ar- 
rival of  a  "  big  war  canoe"  displaying  the  British 
flag.  The  shrewd  old  savage  had  become  some- 
thing of  a  politician  in  the  course  of  his  daily  vis- 
its at  the  fort.  He  knew  of  the  war  existing  be- 
tween the  nations,  but  knew  nothing  of  the  ar- 
rangement between  M'Dougal  and  M'Tavish.  He 
trembled,  therefore,  for  the  power  of  his  white 
son-in-law  and  the  new-fledged  grandeur  of  his 
daughter,  and  assembled  his  warriors  in  all 
haste.  "  King  George,"  said  he,  "  has  sent  his 
great  canoe  to  destroy  the  fort,  and  make  slaves 
of  all  the  inhabitants.  Shall  we  surfer  it  ?  The 
Americans  are  the  first  white  men  that  have  fixed 
themselves  in  the  land.  They  have  treated  us 
like  brothers.  Their  great  chief  has  taken  my 
daughter  to  be  his  squaw  :  we  are,  therefore,  as 
one  people." 

His  warriors  all  determined  to  stand  by  the 
Americans  to  the  last,  and  to  this  effect  they  came 
painted  and  armed  for  battle.  Comcomly  made  a 
spirited  war-speech  to  his  son-in-law.  He  offered 


to  kill  every  one  of  King  George's  men  that 
should  attempt  to  land.  It  was  an  easy  matter. 
The  ship  could  not  approach  within  six  mil*es  of 
the  fort  ;  the  crew  could  only  land  in  boats.  The 
woods  reached  to  the  water's  edge  ;  in  these,  he 
and  his  warriors  would  conceal  themselves,  and 
shoot  down  the  enemy  as  fast  as  they  put  foot  on 
shore. 

M'Dougal  was,  doubtless,  properly  sensible  of 
this  parental  devotion  on  the  part  of  his  savage 
father-in-law,  and  perhaps  a  little  rebuked  by  the 
game  spirit  so  opposite  to  his  own.  He  assured 
Comcomly,  however,  that  his  solicitude  for  the 
safety  of  himself  and-  the  princess  was  superflu- 
ous ;  as,  though  the  ship  belonged  to  King  George, 
her  crew  would  not  injure  the  Americans,  or  their 
Indian  allies.  He  advised  him  and  his  warriors, 
therefore,  to  lay  aside  their  weapons  and  warshirts, 
wash  off  the  paint  from  their  faces  and  bodies, 
and  appear  like  clean  and  civil  savages  to  receive 
the  strangers  courteously. 

Comcomly  was  sorely  puzzled  at  this  advice, 
which  accorded  so  little  with  his  Indian  notions 
of  receiving  a  hostile  nation  ;  and  it  was  only 
after  repeated  and  positive  assurances  of  the  am- 
icable intentions  of  the  strangers  that  he  was  in- 
duced to  lower  his  fighting  tone.  He  said  some- 
thing to  his  warriors  explanatory  of  this  singular 
posture  of  affairs,  and  in  vindication,  perhaps,  of 
the  pacific  temper  of  his  son-in-law.  They  all 
gave  a  shrug  and  an  Indian  grunt  of  acquiescence, 
and  went  off  sulkily  to  their  village,  to  lay  aside 
their  weapons  for  the  present. 

The  proper  arrangements  being  made  for  the 
reception  of  Captain  Black,  that  officer  caused 
his  ship's  boats  to  be  manned,  and  landed  with 
befitting  state  at  Astoria.  From  the  talk  that  had 
been  made  by  the  Northwest  Company  of  the 
strength  of  the  place,  and  the  armament  they  had 
required  to  assist  in  its  reduction,  he  expected  to 
find  a  fortress  of  some  importance.  When  he 
beheld  nothing  but  stockades  and  bastions,  calcu- 
lated for  defence  against  naked  savages,  he  felt 
an  emotion  of  indignant  surprise,  mingled  with 
something  of  the  ludicrous.  "  Is  this  the  fort," 
cried  he,  "  about  which  I  have  heard  so  much 
talking  ?  D — n  me,  but  I'd  batter  it  down  in  two 
hours  with  a  four-pounder  !" 

When  he  learned,  however,  the  amount  of  rich 
furs  that  had  been  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 
Northwesters,  he  was  outrageous,  and  insisted 
that  an  inventory  should  be  taken  of  all  the  prop- 
erty purchased  of  the  Americans,  "  with  a  view 
to  ulterior  measures  in  England,  for  the  recovery 
of  the  value  from  the  Northwest  Company." 

As  he  grew  cool,  however,  he  gave  over  all  idea 
of  preferring  such  a  claim,  and  reconciled  himself, 
as  well  as  he  could,  to  the  idea  of  having  been 
forestalled  by  his  bargaining  coadjutors. 

On  the  1 2th  of  December  the  fate  of  Astoria 
was  consummated  by  a  regular  ceremonial.  Cap- 
lain  Black,  attended  by  his  officers,  entered  the 
fort,  caused  the  British  standard  to  be  erected, 
broke  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  declared,  in  a  loud 
voice,  that  he  took  possession  of  the  establishment 
and  of  the  country,  in  the  name  of  his  Britannic 
Majesty,  changing  the  name  of  Astoria  to  that  of 
Fort  George. 

The  Indian  warriors  who  had  offered  their  ser- 
vices to  repel  the  strangers  were  present  on  this 
occasion.  It  was  explained  to  them  as  being  a 
friendly  arrangement  and  transfer,  but  they  shook 
their  heads  grimly,  and  considered  it  an  act  of 
subjugation  of  their  ancient  allies.  They  regretted 
that  they  had  complied  with  M'Dougal's  wishes, 


ASTORIA. 


427 


in  laying  aside  their  arms,  and  remarked  that, 
however  the  Americans  might  conceal  the  fact, 
they  were  undoubtedly  all  slaves  ;  nor  could  they 
be  persuaded  of  the  contrary  until  they  beheld 
the  Racoon  depart  without  taking  away  any  pris- 
oners. 

As  to  Comcomly,  he  no  longer  prided  himself 
upon  his  white  son-in-law,  but,  whenever  he  was 
asked  about  him,  shook  his  head,  and  replied, 
that  his  daughter  had  made  a  mistake,  and,  in- 
stead of  getting  a  great  warrior  for  a  husband, 
had  married  herself  to  a  squaw. 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

HAVING  given  the  catastrophe  at  the  Fort  of  As- 
toria, it  remains  now  but  to  gather  up  a  few  loose 
ends  of  this  widely  excursive  narrative  and  con- 
clude. On  the  28th  of  February  the  brig  Pedler  an- 
chored in  Columbia  River.  It  will  be  recollected 
that  Mr.  Hunt  had  purchased  this  vessel  at  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  to  take  off  the  furs  collected  at 
the  factory,  and  to  restore  the  Sandwich  Islanders 
to  their  homes.  When  that  gentleman  learned, 
however,  the  precipitate  and  summary  manner  in 
which  the  property  had  been  bargained  away  by 
M'Dougal,  he  expressed  his  indignation  in  the 
strongest  terms,  and  determined  to  make  an  effort 
to  get  back  the  furs.  As  soon  as  his  wishes  were 
known  in  this  respect,  M'Dougal  came  to  sound 
him  on  behalf  of  the  Northwest  Company,  inti- 
mating that  he  had  no  doubt  the  peltries  might  be 
repurchased  at  an  advance  of  fifty  per  cent.  This 
overture  was  not  calculated  to  soothe  the  angry 
feelings  of  Mr.  Hunt,  and  his  indignation  was 
complete  when  he  discovered  that  M'Dougal  had 
become  a  partner  of  the  Northwest  Company,  and 
had  actually  been  so  since  the  23d  of  December. 
He  had  kept  his  partnership  a  secret,  however  ; 
had  retained  the  papers  of  the  Pacific  Fur  Com- 
pany in  his  possession,  and  had  continued  to  act 
as  Mr.  Astor's  agent,  though  two  of  the  partners 
of  the  other  company,  Mr.  M'Kenzie  and  Mr. 
Clarke,  were  present.  He  had,  moreover,  di- 
vulged to  his  new  associates  all  that  he  knew  as 
to  Mr.  Astor's  plans  and  affairs,  and  had  made 
copies  of  his  business  letters  for  their  perusal. 

Mr.  Hunt  now  considered  the  whole  conduct  of 
M'Dougal  hollow  and  collusive.  His  only  thought 
was,  therefore,  to  get  all  the  papers  of  the  concern 
out  of  his  hands,  and  bring  the  business  to  a 
close  ;  for  the  interests  of  Mr.  Astor  were  yet 
completely  at  stake  ;  the  drafts  of  the  Northwest 
Company  in  his  favor,  for  the  purchase  money, 
not  having  yet  been  obtained.  With  some  diffi- 
culty he  succeeded  in  getting  possession  of  the 
papers.  The  bills  or  drafts  were  delivered  with- 
out hesitation.  The  latter  he  remitted  to  Mr. 
Astor  by  some  of  his  associates,  who  were  about 
to  cross  the  continent  to  New  York.  This  clone, 
he  embarked  on  board  the  Pedler,  on  April  3d, 
accompanied  by  two  of  the  clerks,  Mr.  Seton  and 
Mr.  Halsey,  and  bade  a  final  adieu  to  Astoria. 

The  next  day,  April  4th,  Messrs.  Clarke, 
M'Kenzie,  David  Stuart,  and  such  of  the  Astorians 
as  had  not  entered  into  the  service  of  the  North- 
west Company,  set  out  to  cross  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. It  is  not  our  intention  to  take  the  reader 
another  journey  across  those  rugged  barriers  ;  but 
we  will  step  forward  with  the  travellers  to  a  dis- 
tance on  their  way,  merely  to  relate  their  inter- 
view with  a  character  already-noted  in  this  work. 

As  the  party  were  proceeding  up  the  Columbia, 


near  the  mouth  of  the  Wallah-Wallah  River,  sev- 
eral Indian  canoes  put  off  from  the  shore  to  over- 
take them,  and  a  voice  called  upon  them  in 
French  and  requested  them  to  stop.  They  ac- 
cordingly put  to  shore,  and  were  joined  by  those 
in  the  canoes.  To  their  surprise,  they  recognized 
in  the  person  who  had  hailed  them  the  Indian  wife 
of  Pierre  Dorion,  accompanied  by  her  two  children. 
She  had  a  story  to  tell,  involving  the  fate  of  sev- 
eral of  our  unfortunate  adventurers. 

Mr.  John  Reed,  the  Hibernian,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, had  been  detached  during  the  sum- 
mer to  the  Snake  River.  His  party  consisted  of 
four  Canadians,  Giles  Le  Clerc,  Francois  Landry, 
Jean  Baptiste  Turcot,  and  Andre  La  Chapelle, 
together  with  two  hunters,  Pierre  Dorion  and 
Pierre  Delaunay  ;  Dorion,  as  usual,  being  accom- 
panied by  his  wife  and  children.  The  objects  of 
this  expedition  were  twofold — to  trap  beaver,  and 
to  search  for  the  three  hunters,  Robinson,  Ho- 
back,  and  Rezner. 

In  the  course  of  the  autumn  Reed  lost  one 
man,  Landry,  by  death  ;  another  one,  Pierre 
Delaunay,  who  was  ol  a  sullen,  perverse  disposi- 
tion, left  him  in  a  moody  fit,  and  was  never  heard 
of  afterward.  The  number  of  his  party  was  not, 
however,  reduced  by  these  losses,  as  the  three 
hunters,  Robinson,  Hoback,  and  Rezner,  had 
joined  it. 

Reed  now  built  a  house  on  the  Snake  River,  for 
their  winter  quarters  ;  which,  being  completed 
the  party  set  about  trapping.  Rezner,  Le  Clerc, 
and  Pierre  Dorion  went  about  five  days'  journey 
Irom  the  wintering  house,  to  a  part  of  the  country 
well  stocked  with  beaver.  Here  they  put  up  a 
hut,  and  proceeded  to  trap  with  great  success. 
While  the  men  were  out  hunting,  Pierre  Dorion's 
wife  remained  at  home  to  dress  the  skins  and  pre- 
pare the  meals.  She  was  thus  employed  one 
evening  about  the  beginning  of  January,  cooking 
the  supper  of  the  hunters,  when  she  heard  foot- 
steps, and  Le  Clerc  staggered,  pale  and  bleeding, 
into  the  hut.  .  He  informed  her  that  a  party  of 
savages  had  surprised  them  while  at  their  traps, 
and  had  killed  Rezner  and  her  husband.  He  had 
barely  strength  left  to  give  this  information,  when 
he  sank  upon  the  ground. 

The  poor  woman  saw  that  the  only  chance  for 
life  was  instant  flight,  but,  in  this  exigency, 
showed  that  presence  of  mind  and  force  of  char- 
acter for  which  she  had  frequently  been  noted. 
With  great  difficulty  she  caught  two  of  the  horses 
belonging  to  the  party.  Then  collecting  her 
clothes,  and  a  small  quantity  of  beaver  meat  and 
dried  salmon,  she  packed  them  upon  one  of  the 
horses,  and  helped  the  wounded  man  to  mount 
upon  it.  On  the  other  horse  she  mounted  with 
her  two  children,  and  hurried  away  from  this  dan- 
gerous neighborhood,  directing  her  flight  to  Mr. 
Reed's  establishment.  On  the  third  day  she 
descried  a  number  of  Indians  on  horseback  pro- 
ceeding in  an  easterly  direction.  She  immedi- 
ately dismounted  with  her  children,  and  helped 
Le  Clerc  likewise  to  dismount,  and  all  concealed 
themselves.  Fortunately  they  escaped  the  sharp 
eyes  of  the  savages,  but  had  to  proceed  with  the 
utmost  caution.  That  night  they  slept  without 
fire  or  water  ;  she  managed  to  keep  her  children 
warm  in  her  arms  ;  but  before  morning  poor  Le 
Clerc  died. 

With  the  dawn  of  day  the  resolute  woman  re- 
sumed her  course,  and  on  the  fourth  day  reached 
the  house  of  Mr.  Reed.  It  was  deserted,  and  all 
round  were  marks  of  blood  and  signs  of  a  furious 
massacre.  Not  doubting  that  Mr.  Reed  and  his 


ASTORIA. 


party  had  all  fallen  victims,  she  turned  in  fresh 
horror  from  the  spot.  For  two  days  she  con- 
tinued hurrying  forward,  ready  to  sink  for  want 
of  food,  but  more  solicitous  about  her  children 
than  herself.  At  length  she  reached  a  range  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  near  the  upper  part  of  the 
Wallah-Wallah  River.  Here  she  chose  a  wild, 
lonely  ravine  as  her  place  of  winter  refuge. 

She  had  fortunately  a  buffalo  robe  and  three 
deer  skins  ;  of  these,  and  of  pine  bark  and  cedar 
branches,  she  constructed  a  rude  wigwam,  which 
she  pitched  beside  a  mountain  spring.  Having 
no  other  food,  she  killed  the  two  horses,  and 
smoked  their  flesh.  The  skins  aided  to  cover  her 
hut.  Here  she  dragged  out  the  winter,  with  no 
other  company  than  her  two  children.  Toward 
the  middle  of  March  her  provisions  were  nearly- 
exhausted.  She  therefore  packed  up  the  remain- 
der, slung  it  on  her  back,  and,  with  her  helpless 
little  ones,  set  out  again  on  her  wanderings. 
Crossing  the  ridge  of  mountains,  she  descended 
to  the  banks  of  the  Wallah-Wallah,  and  kept  along 
them  until  she  arrived  where  that  river  throws  it- 
sell  into  the  Columbia.  She  was  hospitably  re- 
ceived and  entertained  by  the  Wallah-Wallahs,  and 
had  been  nearly  two  weeks  among  them  when  the 
two  canoes  passed. 

On  being  interrogated,  she  could  assign  no  rea- 
son for  this  murderous  attack  of  the  savages  ;  it 
appeared  to  be  perfectly  wanton  and  unprovoked. 
Some  of  the  Astorians  supposed  it  an  act  of 
butchery  by  a  roving  band  of  Blackfeet  ;  others, 
however,  and  with  greater  probability  of  correct- 
ness, have  ascribed  it  to  the  tribe  of  Pierced-nose 
Indians,  in  revenge  for  the  death  of  their  comrade 
hanged  by  order  of  Mr.  Clarke.  If  so,  it  shows 
that  these  sudden  and  apparently  wanton  out- 
breakings  of  sanguinary  violence  on  the  part  of 
the  savages  have  often  some  previous,  though 
perhaps  remote,  provocation. 

The  narrative  of  the  Indian  woman  closes  the 
checkered  adventures  of  some  of  the  personages 
of  this  motley  story  ;  such  as  the  honest  Hiber- 
nian Reed,  and  Dorion  the  hybrid  interpreter. 
Turcot  and  La  Chapelle  were  two  of  the  men  who 
fell  off  from  Mr.  Crooks  in  the  course  of  his  win- 
try journey,  and  had  subsequently  such  disastrous 
times  among  the  Indians.  We  cannot  but  feel 
some  sympathy  with  that  persevering  trio  of  Ken- 
tuckians,  Robinson,  Rezner,  and  Hoback,  who 
twice  turned  back  when  on  their  way  homeward, 
and  lingered  in  the  wilderness  to  perish  by  the 
hands  of  savages. 

The  return  parties  from  Astoria,  both  by  sea 
and  land,  experienced  on  the  way  as  many  adven- 
tures, vicissitudes,  and  mishaps,  as  the  far-famed 
heroes  of  the  "  Odyssey  ;"  they  reached  their  des- 
tination at  different  times,  bearing  tidings  to  Mr. 
Astor  of  the  unfortunate  termination  of  his  enter- 
prise. 

That  gentleman,  however,  was  not  disposed, 
even  yet,  to  give  the  matter  up  as  lost.  On  the 
contrary,  his  spirit  was  roused  by  what  he  con- 
sidered ungenerous  and  unmerited  conduct  on  the 
part  of  the  Northwest  Company.  "  After  their 
treatment  of  me,"  said  he  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Hunt,  "  I  have  no  idea  of  remaining  quiet  and 
idle."  He  determined,  therefore,  as  soon  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit,  to  resume  his  enter- 
prise. 

At  the  return  of  peace,  Astoria,  with  the  adja- 
cent country,  reverted  to  the  United  States  by  the 
treaty  of  Ghent,  on  the  principle  of  status  ante 
bellum,  and  Captain  Biddlewas  dispatched,  in  the 
sloop-of-war  Ontario,  to  take  formal  repossession. 


In  the  winter  of  1815  a  law  was  passed  by  Con- 
gress prohibiting  all  traffic  of  British  traders 
within  the  territories  of  the  United  States. 

The  favorable  moment  seemed  now  to  Mr. 
Astor  to  have  arrived  for  the  revival  of  his  favorite 
enterprise,  but  new  difficulties  had  grown  up  to 
impede  it.  The  Northwest  Company  were  now 
in  complete  occupation  of  the  Columbia  River, 
and  its  chief  tributary  streams,  holding  the  posts 
which  he  had  established,  and  carrying  on  a  trade 
throughout  the  neighboring  region,  in  defiance  of 
the  prohibitory  law  of  Congress,  which,  in  effect, 
was  a  dead  letter  beyond  the  mountains. 

To  dispossess  them  would  be  an  undertaking  of 
almost  a  belligerent  nature  ;  for  their  agents  and 
retainers  were  well  armed,  and  skilled  in  the  use 
of  weapons,  as' is  usual  with  Indian  traders.  The 
ferocious  and  bloody  contests  which  had  taken 
place  between  the  rival  trading  parties  of  the 
Northwest  and  Hudson's  Bay  Companies  had 
shown  what  might  be  expected  from  commercial 
feuds  in  the  lawless  depths  of  the  wilderness. 
Mr.  Astor  did  not  think  it  advisable,  therefore,  to 
attempt  the  matter  without  the  protection  of  the 
American  flag,  under  which  his  people  might 
rally  in  case  of  need.  He  accordingly  made  an 
informal  overture  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  Mr.  Madison,  through  Mr.  Gallatin,  offer- 
ing to  renew  his  enterprise,  and  to  re-establish 
Astoria,  provided  it  would  be  protected  by  the 
American  flag,  and  made  a  military  post,  stating 
that  the  whole  force  required  would  not  exceed  a 
lieutenant's  command. 

The  application,  approved  and  recommended 
by  Mr.  Gallatin,  one  of  the  most  enlightened 
statesmen  of  our  country,  was  favorably  received, 
but  no  step  was  taken  in  consequence  ;  the  Presi- 
dent not  being  disposed,  in  all  probability,  to 
commit  himself  by  any  direct  countenance  or 
overt  act.  Discouraged  by  this  supineness  on  the 
part  of  the  government,  Mr.  Astor  did  not  think 
rit  to  renew  his  overtures  in  a  more  formal  man- 
ner, and  the  favorable  moment  for  the  reoccupa- 
tion  of  Astoria  was  suffered  to  pass  unimproved. 

The  British  trading  establishments  were  thus 
enabled,  without  molestation,  to  strike  deep  their 
roots,  and  extend  their  ramifications,  in  despite  of 
the  prohibition  of  Congress,  until  they  had  spread 
themselves  over  the  rich  field  of  enterprise  opened 
by  Mr.  Astor.  The  British  government  soon  be- 
gan to  perceive  the  importance  of  this  region,  and 
to  desire  to  include  it  within  their  territorial  do- 
mains. A  question  has  consequently  risen  as  to 
the  right  to  the  soil,  and  has  become  one  of  the 
most  perplexing  now  open  between  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain.  In  the  first  treaty  rela- 
tive to  it,  under  date  of  October  2oth,  1818,  the 
question  was  left  unsettled,  and  it  was  agreed  that 
the  country  on  the  northwest  coast  of  America, 
westward  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  claimed  by 
either  nation,  should  be  open  to  the  inhabitants 
of  both  for  ten  years,  for  the  purposes  of  trade, 
with  the  equal  right  of  navigating  all  its  rivers. 
When  these  ten  years  had  expired,  a  subsequent 
treaty,  in  1828,  extended  the  arrangement  to  ten 
additional  years.  So  the  matter  stands  at  pres- 
ent. 

On  casting  back  our  eyes  over  the  series  of 
events  we  have  recorded,  we  see  no  reason  to  at- 
tribute the  failure  of  this  great  commercial  under- 
taking to  any  fault  in  the  scheme,  or  omission  in 
the  execution  of  it,  on  the  part  of  the  projector. 
It  was  a  magnificent  enterprise  ;  well  concerted 
and  carried  on,  without  regard  to  difficulties  or 
expense.  A  succession  of  adverse  circumstances 


ASTORIA. 


429 


and  cross  purposes,  however,  beset  it  almost  from 
the  outset  ;  some  of  them,  in  fact,  arising  from 
neglect  of  the  orders  and  instructions  of  Mr.  Astor. 
The  first  crippling  blow  was  the  loss  of  the  Ton- 
quin,  which  clearly  would  not  have  happened  had 
Mr.  Astor's  earnest  injunctions  with  regard  to  the 
natives  been  attended  to.  Had  this  ship  per- 
formed her  voyage  prosperously,  and  revisited  As- 
toria in  due  time,  the  trade  of  the  establishment 
would  have  taken  its  preconcerted  course,  and  the 
spirits  of  all  concerned  been  kept  up  by  a  confi- 
dent prospect  of  success.  Her  dismal  catastrophe 
struck  a  chill  into  every  heart,  and  prepared  the 
way  for  subsequent  despondency. 

Another  cause  of  embarrassment  and  loss  was 
the  departure  from  the  plan  of  Mr.  Astor,  as  to 
the  voyage  of  the  Beaver,  subsequent  to  her  visit- 
ing Astoria.  The  variation  from  this  plan  pro- 
duced a  series  of  cross  purposes,  disastrous  to  the 
establishment,  and  detained  Mr.  Hunt  absent 
from  his  post,  when  his  presence  there  was  of 
vital  importance  to  the  enterprise  ;  so  essential  is 
it  for  an  agent,  in  any  great  and  complicated  un- 
dertaking, to  execute  faithfully,  and  to  the  letter, 
the  part  marked  out  for  him  by  the  master  mind 
which  has  concerted  the  whole. 

The  breaking  out  of  the  war  between  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain  multiplied  the  hazards 
and  embarrassments  of  the  enterprise.  The  dis- 
appointment as  to  convoy  rendered  it  difficult  to 
keep  up  reinforcements  and  supplies  ;  and  the 
loss  of  the  Lark  added  to  the  tissue  of  misadven- 
tures. 

That  Mr.  Astor  battled  resolutely  against  every 
difficulty,  and  pursued  his  course  in  defiance  of 
every  loss,  has  been  sufficiently  shown.  Had  he 
been  seconded  by  suitable  agents,  and  properly 
protected  by  government,  the  ultimate  failure  of 
his  plan  might  yet  have  been  averted.  It  was  his 
great  misfortune  that  his  agents  were  not  imbued 
with  his  own  spirit.  Some  had  not  capacity  suffi- 
cient to  comprehend  the  real  nature  and  extent  of 
his  scheme  ;  others  were  alien  in  feeling  and  in- 
terest, and  had  been  brought  up  in  the  service  of 
a  rival  company.  Whatever  sympathies  they 
might  originally  have  had  with  him,  were  im- 
paired, if  not  destroyed,  by  the  war.  They  looked 
upon  his  cause  as  desperate,  and  only  considered 
how  they  might  make  interest  to  regain  a  situation 
under  their  former  employers.  The  absence  of 
Mr.  Hunt,  the  only  real  representative  of  Mr.  As- 
tor, at  the  time  of  the  capitulation  with  the  North- 
west Company,  completed  the  series  of  cross  pur- 
poses. Had  that  gentleman  been  present,  the 
transfer,  in  all  probability,  would  not  have  taken 
place. 

It  is  painful,  at  all  times,  to  see  a  grand  and 
beneficial  stroke  of  genius  fail  of  its  aim  :  but  we 
regret  the  failure  of  this  enterprise  in  a  national 
point  of  view  ;  for,  had  it  been  crowned  with  suc- 
cess, it  would  have  redounded  greatly  to  the  ad- 
vantage and  extension  of  our  commerce.  The 
profits  drawn  from  the  country  in  question  by  the 
British  Fur  Company,  though  of  ample  amount, 
form  no  criterion  by  which  to  judge  of  the  advan- 
tages that  would  have  arisen  had  it  been  entirely 
in  the  hands  of  the  citizens  of  the  United  States. 
That  company,  as  has  been  shown,  is  limited  in 
the  nature  and  scope  of  its  operations,  and  can 
make  but  little  use  of  the  maritime  facilities  held 


out  by  an  emporium  and  a  harbor  on  that  coast. 
In  our  hands,  besides  the  roving  bands  of  trap- 
pers and  traders,  the  country  would  have  been 
explored  and  settled  by  industrious  husbandmen  ; 
and  the  fertile  valleys  bordering  its  rivers,  and 
shut  up  among  its  mountains,  would  have  been 
made  to  pour  forth  their  agricultural  treasures  to 
contribute  to  the  general  wealth. 

In  respect  to  commerce,  we  should  have  had  a 
line  of  trading  posts  from  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Missouri  across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  forming  a 
high  road  from  the  great  regions  of  the  west  to 
the  shores  of  the  Pacific.  We  should  have  had  a 
fortified  post  and  port  at  the  mouth  of  the  Colum- 
bia, commanding  the  trade  of  that  river  and  its 
tributaries,  and  of  a  wide  extent  of  country  and 
sea-coast  ;  carrying  on  an  active  and  profitable 
commerce  with  the  Sandwich  Islands,  and  a  di- 
rect and  frequent  communication  with  China.  In 
a  word,  Astoria  might  have  realized  the  anticipa- 
tions of  Mr.  Astor,  so  well  understood  and  appre- 
ciated by  Mr.  Jefferson,  in  gradually  becoming  a 
commercial  empire  beyond  the  mountains,  peo- 
pled by  "  free  and  independent  Americans,  and 
linked  with  us  by  ties  of  blood  and  interest." 

We  repeat,  therefore,  our  sincere  regret  that 
our  government  should  have  neglected  the  over- 
ture of  Mr.  Astor,  and  suffered  the  moment  to 
pass  by,  when  full  possession  of  this  region  might 
have  been  taken  quietly,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
and  a  military  post  established,  without  dispute,  at 
Astoria.  Our  statesmen  have  become  sensible, 
when  too  late,  of  the  importance  of  this  measure. 
Bills  have  repeatedly  been  brought  into  Congress 
for  the  purpose,  but  without  success  ;  and  our  right- 
ful possessions  on  that  coast,  as  well  as  our  trade 
on  the  Pacific,  have  no  rallying  point  protected 
by  the  national  flag,  and  by  a  military  force. 

In  the  mean  time  the  second  period  of  ten  years 
is  fast  elapsing.  In  1838  the  question  of  title  will 
again  come  up,  and  most  probably;  in  the  present 
amicable  state  of  our  relations  with  Great  Britain, 
will  be  again  postponed.  Every  year,  however, 
the  litigated  claim  is  growing  in  importance. 
There  is  no  pride  so  jealous  and  irritable  as  the 
pride  of  territory.  As  one  wave  of  emigration 
after  another  rolls  into  the  vast  regions  of  the 
west,  and  our  settlements  stretch  toward  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  the  eager  eyes  of  our  pioneers 
will  pry  beyond,  and  they  will  become  impatient 
of  any  barrier  or  impediment  in  the  way  of  what 
they  consider  a  grand  outlet  of  our  empire. 
Should  any  circumstance,  therefore,  unfortunately 
occur  to  disturb  the  present  harmony  of  the  two 
nations,  this  ill-adjusted  question,  which  now  lies 
dormant,  may  suddenly  start  up  into  one  of  bel- 
ligerent import,  and  Astoria  become  the  watch- 
word in  a  contest  for  dominion  on  the  shores  of 
the  Pacific. 

Since  the  above  was  written,  the  question  of 
dominion  over  the  vast  territory  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  which  for  a  time  threatened  to  dis- 
turb the  peaceful  relations  with  our  transatlantic 
kindred,  has  been  finally  settled  in  a  spirit  of  mu- 
tual concession,  and  the  venerable  projector, 
whose  early  enterprise  forms  the  subject  of  this 
work,  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing,  ere  his  eyes 
closed  upon  the  world,  that  the  flag  of  his  country 
again  waved  over  "  ASTORIA." 


APPENDIX, 


Dratight  of  a  petition  to  Congress,  sent  by  Mr.  A  star  in 
1812. 

To  the  honorable  the  Senate  and  House  of  Represent- 
atives oi  the  United  States,  in  Congress  assembled. 
The  petition  of  the  American  Fur  Company  respect- 
fully shovveth  : 

That  the  trade  with  the  several  Indian  tribes  of 
North  America,  has,  for  many  years  past  been  almost 
exclusively  carried  on  by  the  merchants  of  Canada  ; 
who,  having  formed  powerful  and  extensive  associa- 
tions for  that  purpose,  being  aided  by  British  capital, 
and  being  encouraged  by  the  favor  and  protection  of 
the  British  government,  could  not  be  opposed,  with 
any  prospect  of  success,  by  individuals  of  the  United 
States. 

That  by  means  of  the  above  trade,  thus  systematic- 
ally pursued,  not  only  the  inhabitants  of  the  United 
States  have  been  deprived  of  commercial  profits  and 
advantages,  to  which  they  appear  to  have  just  and 
natural  pretensions,  but  a  great  and  dangerous  influ- 
ence has  been  established  over  the  Indian  tribes,  diffi- 
cult to  be  counteracted,  and  capable  of  being  exerted 
at  critical  periods,  to  the  great  injury  and  annoyance 
of  our  frontier  settlements. 

That  in  order  to  obtain  at  least  a  part  of  the  above 
trade,  and  more  particularly  that  which  is  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  United  States,  your  petitioners,  in 
the  year  1808,  obtained  an  act  of  incorporation  from 
the  State  of  New  York,  whereby  they  are  enabled, 
with  a  competent  capital,  to  carry  on  the  said  trade 
with  the  Indians  in  such  manner  as  may  be  conform- 
able to  the  laws  and  regulations  of  the  United  States, 
in  relation  to  such  commerce. 

That  the  capital  mentioned  in  the  said  act,  amount- 
ing to  one  million  of  dollars,  having  been  duly 
formed,  your  petitioners  entered  with  zeal  and  alacrity 
into  those  large  and  important  arrangements,  which 
were  necessary  for,  or  conducive  to,  the  object  of  their 
incorporation  ;  and,  among  other  things,  purchased  a 
great  part  of  the  stock  in  trade,  and  trading  establish- 
ments, of  the  Michilimackinac  Company  of  Canada. 
Your  petitioners  also,  with  the  expectation  of  great 
public  and  private  advantage  from  the  use  of  the  said 
establishments,  ordered,  during  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer of  1810,  an  assortment  of  goods  from  England, 
suitable  for  the  Indian  trade  ;  which,  in  consequence 
of  the  President's  proclamation  of  November  of  that 
year,  were  shipped  to  Canada  instead  of  New  York, 
and  have  been  transported,  under  a  very  heavy  ex- 
pense, into  the  interior  of  the  country.  But  as  they 
could  not  legally  be  brought  into  the  Indian  country 
within. the  boundaries  of  the  United  States,  they  have 
been  stored  on  the  Island  of  St.  Joseph,  in  Lake 
Huron,  where  they  now  remain. 

Your  petitioners,  with  great  deference  and  implicit 
submission  to  the  wisdom  of  the  national  legislature, 
beg  leave  to  suggest  for  consideration,  whether  they 
have  not  some  claim  to  national  attention  and  encour- 
agement, from  the  nature  and  importance  of  their  un- 
dertaking ;  which  though  hazardous  and  uncertain  as 
it  concerns  their  private  emolument,  must,  at  any 
rate,  redound  to  the  public  security  and  advantage. 
If  their  undertaking  shall  appear  to  be  of  the  descrip- 
tion given,  they  would  further  suggest  to  your  honor- 


able bodies,  that  unless  they  can  procure  a  regular 
supply  for  the  trade  in  which  they  are  engaged,  it  may 
languish,  and  be  finally  abandoned  by  American  citi- 
zens ;  when  it  will  revert  to  its  former  channel,  with 
additional,  and  perhaps  with  irresistible,  power. 

Under  these  circumstances,  and  upon  all  those  con- 
siderations of  public  policy  which  will  present  them- 
selves to  your  honorable  bodies,  in  connection  with 
those  already  mentioned,  your  petitioners  respectfully 
pray  that  a  law  may  be  passed  to  enable  the  Presi- 
dent, or  any  of  the  heads  of  departments  acting  under 
his  authority,  to  grant  permits  for  the  introduction  of 
goods  necessary  for  the  supply  of  the  Indians,  into 
the  Indian  country,  that  is,  within  the  boundaries  of 
the  United  States,  under  such  regulations,  and  with 
such  restrictions,  as  may  secure  the  public  revenue 
and  promote  the  public  welfare. 

And  your  petitioners  shall  ever  pray,  &c. 
In  witness  whereof,  the  common  seal  of  the  American 

Fur  Companyis  hereunto  affixed,  the  day  of 

March,  1812. 
By  order  of  the  Corporation. 


AN  ACT  to  enable  the  American  Fur  Company,  and 
other  citizens,  to  introduce  goods  necessary  for  the 
Indian  trade  into  the  territories  within  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  United  States. 

WHEREAS,  the  public  peace  and  welfare  require  that 
the  native  Indian  tribes  residing  within  the  bounda- 
ries of  the  United  States,  should  receive  their  neces- 
sary supplies  under  the  authority  and  from  the  citi- 
zens of  the  United  States  :  Therefore,  be  it  en- 
acted by  the  Senate  and  House  of  Represent- 
atives of  the  United  States,  in  Congress  assem- 
bled, that  it  shall  be  lawful  for  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  or  any  of  the  heads  of  de- 
partments thereunto  by  him  duly  authorized,  from 
time  to  time  to  grant  permits  to  the  American  Fur 
Company,  their  agents  or  factors,  or  any  other  citi- 
zens of  the  United  States  engaged  in  the  Indian 
trade,  to  introduce  into  the  Indian  country,  within 
the  boundaries  of  the  United  States,  such  goods, 
wares,  and  merchandise,  as  may  be  necessary  tor  the 
said  trade,  under  such  regulations  and  restrictions  as 
the  said  President  or  heads  of  departments  may  judge 
proper  ;  any  law  or  regulation  to  the  contrary,  in  any- 
wise, notwithstanding. 


Letiei  from  Air.  Gallatin  to  Mr.  A  star,  dated 

NEW  YORK,  August  5,  1835. 

PEAR  SIR  :  In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  will 
state  such  facts  as  I  recollect  touching  the  subjects 
mentioned  in  your  letter  of  28th  ult.  I  may  be  mis- 
taken respecting  dates  and  details,  and  will  only  re- 
late general  facts,  which  I  well  remember. 

In  conformity  with  the  treaty  of  1794  with  Great 
Britain,  the  citizens  and  subjects  of  each  country  were 
permitted  to  trade  with  the  Indians  residing  in  the 
territories  of  the  other  party.  The  reciprocity  was 
altogether  nominal.  Since  the  conquest  of  Canada, 


APPENDIX. 


431 


the  British  had  inherited  from  the  French  the  whole 
fur  trade,  through  the  great  lakes  and  their  communi- 
cations, with  all  the  western  Indians,  whether  resid- 
ing in  the  British  dominions  or  the  United  States. 
They  kept  the  important  western  posts  on  those  lakes 
till  about  the  year  1797.  And  the  defensive  Indian 
war,  which  the  United  States  had  to  sustain  from 
1776  to  1795,  had  still  more  alienated  the  Indians, 
and  secured  to  the  British  their  exclusive  trade,  car- 
ried through  the  lakes,  wherever  the  Indians  in  that 
quarter  lived.  No  American  could,  without  immi- 
nent danger  of  property  and  life,  carry  on  that  trade, 
even  within  the  United  States,  by  the  way  of  either 
Michilimackinac  or  St.  Mary's.  And  independent  of 
the  loss  of  commerce,  Great  Britain  was  enabled  to 
preserve  a  most  dangerous  influence  over  our  Indians. 

It  was  under  these  circumstances  that  you  communi- 
cated to  our  government  the  prospect  you  had  to  be 
able,  and  your  intention,  to  purchase  one  half  of  the 
interest  of  the  Canadian  Fur  Company,  engaged  in 
trade  by  the  way  of  Michilimackinac  with  our  own 
Indians.  You  wished  to  know  whether  the  plan  met 
with  the  approbation  of  government,  and  how  far  you 
could  rely  on  its  protection  and  encouragement.  This 
overture  was  received  with  great  satisfaction  by  the 
administration,  and  Mr.  Jefferson,  then  President, 
wrote  you  to  that  effect.  I  was  also  directed,  as 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  to  write  to  you  an  official 
letter  to  the  same  purpose.  On  investigating  the  sub- 
ject, it  was  found  that  the  Executive  had  no  authority 
to  give  you  any  direct  aid  ;  and  I  believe  that  you 
received  nothing  more  than  an  entire  approbation  of 
your  plan,  and  general  assurances  of  the  protection 
due  to  every  citizen  engaged  in  lawful  and  useful  pur- 
suits. 

You  did  effect  the  contemplated  purchase,  but  in 
what  year  I  do  not  recollect.  Immediately  before  the 
war,  you  represented  that  a  large  quantity  of  mer- 
chandise, intended  for  the  Indian  trade,  and  includ- 
ing arms  and  munitions  of  war,  belonging  to  that 
concern  of  which  you  owned  one  half,  was  deposited 
at  a  post  on  Lake  Huron,  within  the  British  domin- 
ions ;  that,  in  order  to  prevent  their  ultimately  falling 
into  the  hands  of  Indians  who  might  prove  hostile, 
you  were  desirous  to  try  to  have  them  conveyed  into 
the  United  States  ;  but  that  you  were  prevented  by 
the  then  existing  law  of  non-intercourse  with  the  Brit- 
ish dominions. 

The  Executive  could  not  annul  the  provisions  of 
that  law.  But  I  was  directed  to  instruct  the  collectors 
on  the  lakes,  in  case  you  or  your  agents  should  volun- 
tarily bring  in  and  deliver  to  them  any  parts  of  the 
goods  above  mentioned,  to  receive  and  keep  them  in 
their  guard,  and  not  to  commence  prosecutions  until 
further  instructions  ;  the  intention  being  then  to  ap- 
ply to  Congress  for  an  act  remitting  the  forfeiture  and 
penalties.  I  wrote  accordingly,  to  that  effect,  to  the 
collectors  of  Detroit  and  Michilimackinac. 

The  attempt  to  obtain  the  goods  did  not,  however, 
succeed  ;  and  I  cannot  say  how  far  the  failure  injured 
you.  But  the  war  proved  fatal  to  another  much  more 
extensive  and  important  enterprise. 

Previous  to  that  time,  but  I  also  forget  the  year, 
you  had  undertaken  to  carry  on  a  trade  on  your  own 
account,  though  I  believe  under  the  New  York  charter 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  with  the  Indians  west 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  This  project  was  also 
communicated  to  government,  and  met,  of  course, 
with  its  full  approbation,  and  best  wishes  for  your 
success.  You  carried  it  on,  on  the  most  extensive 
scale,  sending  several  ships  to  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia  River,  and  a  large  party  by  land  across  the 
mountains,  and  finally  founding  the  establishment  of 
Astoria. 

This  unfortunately  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy 
during  the  war,  from  circumstances  with  which  I  am 
but  imperfectly  acquainted — being  then  absent  on  a 
foreign  mission.  I  returned  in  September,  1815,  and 
sailed  again  on  a  mission  to  France  in  June,  1816. 
During  that  period  I  visited  Washington  twice — in 
October  or  November,  1815,  and  in  March,  1816.  On 


one  of  these  two  occasions,  and  I  believe  on  the  last, 
you  mentioned  to  me  that  you  were  disposed  once 
more  to  renew  the  attempt,  and  to  re-establish 
Astoria,  provided  you  had  the  protection  of  the 
American  flag  ;  for  which  purpose  a  lieutenant's  com- 
mand would  be  sufficient  to  you.  You  requested  me 
to  mention  this  to  the  President,  which  I  did.  Mr. 
Madison  said  he  would  consider  the  subject,  and, 
although  he  did  not  commit  himself,  I  thought  that  he 
received  the  proposal  favorably.  The  message  was 
verbal,  and  1  do  not  knoiv  whether  the  application 
was  ever  renewed  in  a  more  formal  manner.  I  sailed 
soon  after  for  Europe,  and  was  seven  years  absent. 
I  never  had  the  pleasure,  since  1816,  to  see  Mr. 
Madison,  and  never  heard  again  anything  concern- 
ing the  subject  in  question. 

I  remain,  dear  sir,  most  respectfully, 
Your  obedient  servant, 

ALBERT  GALLATIN. 

JOHN  JACOB  ASTOR,  Esq.,  New  York. 


Notices  of  the  present  state  of  the  Fur  Trade,  chiefly 
extracted  from  an  article  published  in  Silliman's 
Journal  for  January,  1834. 

The  Northwest  Company  did  not  long  enjoy  the 
sway  they  had  acquired  over  the  trading  regions  of 
the  Columbia.  A  competition,  ruinous  in  its  ex- 
penses, which  had  long  existed  between  them  and  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  ended  in  their  downfall  and 
the  ruin  of  most  of  the  partners.  The  relict  of  the 
company  became  merged  in  the  rival  association,  and 
the  whole  business  was  conducted  under  the  name  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

This  coalition  took  place  in  1821.  They  then 
abandoned  Astoria,  and  built  a  large  establishment 
sixty  miles  up  the  river,  on  the  right  bank,  which  they 
called  Fort  Vancouver.  This  was  in  a  neighborhood 
where  provisions  could  be  more  readily  procured,  and 
where  there  was  less  danger  from  molestation  by  any 
naval  force.  The  company  are  said  to  carry  on  an 
active  and  prosperous  trade,  and  to  give  great  encour- 
agement to  settlers.  They  are  extremely  jealous, 
however,  of  any  interference  or  participation  in  their 
trade,  and  monopolize  it  from  the  coast  of  the  Pacific 
to  the  mountains,  and  for  a  considerable  extent  north 
and  south.  The  American  traders  and  trappers  who 
venture  across  the  mountains,  instead  of  enjoying  the 
participation  in  the  trade  of  the  river  and  its  tributa- 
ries, that  had  been  stipulated  by  treaty,  are  obliged  to 
keep  to  the  south,  out  of  the  track  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  parties. 

Mr.  Astor  has  withdrawn  entirtly  from  the  Ameri- 
can Fur  Company,  as  he  has,  in  fact,  from  active 
business  of  every  kind.  That  company  is  now  headed 
by  Mr.  Ramsay  Crooks  ;  its  principal  establishment 
is  at  Michilimackinac.  and  it  receives  its  furs  from  the 
posts  depending  on  that  station,  and  from  those  on 
the  Mississippi,  Missouri,  and  Yellow  Stone  Rivers, 
and  the  great  range  of  country  extending  thence  to 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  This  company  has  steamboats 
in  its  employ,  with  which  it  ascends  the  rivers,  and 
penetrates  to  a  vast  distance  into  the  bosom  of  those 
regions  formerly  so  painfully  explored  in  keel  boats 
and  barges,  or  by  weary  parties  on  horseback  and  on 
foot.  The  first  irruption  of  steamboats  into  the  heart 
of  these  vast  wildernesses  is  said  to  have  caused  the 
utmost  astonishment  and  affright  among  their  savage 
inhabitants. 

In  addition  to  the  main  companies  already  men- 
tioned, minor  associations  have  been  formed,  which 
push  their  way  in  the  most  intrepid  manner  to  the  re- 
mote parts  of  the  far  West,  and  beyond  the  mountain 
barriers.  One  of  the  most  noted  of  these  is  Ashley's 
company,  from  St.  Louis,  who  trap  for  themselves, 
and  drive  an  extensive  trade  with  the  Indians.  The 
spirit,  enterprise,  and  hardihood  of  Ashley  are  themes 
of  the  highest  eulogy  in  the  far  West,  and  his  adven- 
tures and  exploits  furnish  abundance  of  frontier 
stories. 


432 


APPENDIX. 


Another  company  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  persons 
from  New  York,  formed  in  1831,  and  headed  by  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  of  the  United  States  army,  has  pushed 
its  enterprises  into  tracts  before  but  little  known,  and 
has  brought  considerable  quantities  of  furs  from  the 
region  between  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  coasts 
of  Monterey  and  Upper  California,  on  the  Buenaven- 
tura and  Timpanogos  Rivers. 

The  fur  countries,  from  the  Pacific  east  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  are  now  occupied  (exclusive  of 
private  combinations  and  individual  trappers  and 
traders)  by  the  Russians  ;  and  on  the  northwest,  from 
Behring's  Strait  to  Queen  Charlotte's  Island,  in  north 
latitude  fifty-three  degrees,  and  by  the  Husdon's  Bay 
Company  thence,  south  of  the  Columbia  River  ;  while 
Ashley's  company,  and  that  under  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, take  the  remainder  of  the  region  to  California. 
Indeed,  the  whole  compass  from  the  Mississippi  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean  is  traversed  in  every  direction. 
The  mountains  and  forests,  from  the  Arctic  Sea  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  are  threaded,  through  every  maze,  by 
the  hunter.  Every  river  and  tributary  stream,  from 
the  Columbia  to  the  mouth  of  the  Rio  del  Norte,  and 
from  the  M'Kenzie  to  the  Colorado  of  the  West,  from 
their  head  springs  to  their  junction,  are  searched  and 
trapped  for  beaver.  Almost  all  the  American  furs, 
which  do  not  belong  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company, 
find  their  way  to  New  York,  and  are  either  distribut- 
ed thence  for  home  consumption,  or  sent  to  foreign 
markets. 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ship  their  furs  from 
their  factories  of  York  Fort  and  from  Moose  River, 
on  Hudson's  Bay  ;  their  collection  from  Grand  River. 
&c.,  they  ship  from  Canada  ;  and  the  collection  Irom 
Columbia  goes  to  London.  None  of  their  furs  come 
to  the  United  States,  except  through  the  London 
market. 

The  export  trade  of  furs  from  the  United  States  is 
chiefly  to  London.  Some  quantities  have  been  sent 
to  Canton,  and  some  few  to  Hamburg  ;  and  an  in- 
creasing export  trade  in  beaver,  otter,  nutria,  and 
vicunia  wool,  prepared  for  the  hatter's  use,  is  carried 
on  in  Mexico.  Some  furs  are  exported  from  Balti- 
more, Philadelphia,  and  Boston  :  but  the  principal 
shipments  from  the  United  States  are  from  New  York 
to  London,  from  whence  they  are  sent  to  Leipsic,  a 
well-known  mart  for  furs,  where  they  are  disposed  of 
during  the  great  fair  in  that  city,  and  distributed  to 
every  part  of  the  continent. 

The  United  States  import  from  South  America, 
nutria,  vicunia,  chinchilla,  and  a  few  deerskins  ;  also 
fur  seals  from  the  Lobos  Islands,  off  the  river  Plate. 
A  quantity  of  beaver,  otter,  &'c.,  are  brought  annually 
from  Santa  Fe.  Dressed  furs  for  edgings,  linings, 
caps,  muffs,  &c.,  such  as  squirrel,  genet,  fitch  skins, 
and  blue  rabbit,  are  received  from  the  north  of 
Europe  ;  also  coney  and  hare's  fur  ;  but  the  largest 
importations  are  from  London,  where  is  concentrated 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  North  American  fur  trade. 

Such  is  the  present  state  of  the  fur  trade,  by  which 
it  will  appear  that  the  extended  sway  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  and  its  monopoly  of  the  region  of 
which  Astoria  was  the  key,  has  operated  to  turn  the 
main  current  of  this  opulent  trade  into  the  coffers  of 
Great  Britain,  and  to  render  London  the  emporium 
instead  of  New  York,  as  Mr.  Astor  had  intended. 

We  will  subjoin  a  few  observations  on  the  animals 
sought  after  in  this  traffic,  extracted  from  the  same 
intelligent  source  with  the  preceding  remarks. 

Of  the  fur-bearing  animals,  "  the  precious  ermine," 
so  called  by  way  of  pre-eminence,  is  found,  of  the 
best  quality,  only  in  the  cold  regions  of  Europe  and 
Asia.*  Its  fur  is  of  the  most  perfect  whiteness,  ex- 
cept the  tip  of  its  tail,  which  is  of  a  brilliant  shining 
black.  With  these  black  tips  tacked  on  the  skins, 
they  are  beautifully  spotted,  producing  an  effect  often 
imitated,  but  never  equalled  in  other  furs.  The  er- 
mine is  of  the  genus  mustela  (weasel),  and  resembles 


*  An  animal  called   the  stoat,  a   kind   of  ermine,  is   said   to  b 
found  in  North  America,  but   very  inferior  to   the  European   an 


Asiatic. 


the  common  weasel  in  its  form  ;  is  from  fourteen  to 
sixteen  inches  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the  end  of 
the  tail.  The  body  is  from  ten  to  twelve  inches  long. 
It  lives  in  hollow  trees,  river  banks,  and  especially  in 
beech  forests  ;  preys  on  small  birds,  is  very  shy, 
sleeping  during  the  day,  and  employing  the  night  in 
search  of  food.  The  fur  of  the  older  animals  is  pre- 
ferred to  the  younger.  It  is  taken  by  snares  and 
traps,  and  sometimes  shot  with  blunt  arrows.  At- 
tempts have  been  made  to  domesticate  it  ;  but  it  is 
extremely  wild,  and  has  been  found  untamable. 

The  sable  can  scarcely  be  called  second  to  the  er- 
mine. It  is  a  native  of  northern  Europe  and  Siberia, 
and  is  also  of  the  genus  mustela.  In  Samoieda,  Ya- 
kutsk, Kamschatka,  and  Russian  Lapland,  it  is  found 
of  the  richest  quality  and  darkest  color.  In  its  habits, 
it  resembles  the  ermine.  It  preys  on  small  squirrels 
and  birds,  sleeps  by  day,  and  prowls  for  food  during 
the  night.  It  is  so  like  the  marten,  in  every  particular 
except  its  size,  and  the  dark  shade  of  its  color,  that 
naturalists  have  not  decided  whether  it  is  the  richest 
and  finest  of  the  marten  tribe,  or  a  variety  of  that 
species.*  It  varies  in  dimensions  from  eighteen  to 
twenty  inches. 

The  rich  dark  shades  of  the  sable,  and  the  snowy 
whiteness  of  the  ermine,  the  great  depth,  and  the 
peculiar,  almost  flowing  softness  of  their  skins  and 
fur,  have  combined  to  gain  them  a  preference  in  all 
countries,  and  in  all  ages  of  the  world.  In  this  age 
they  maintain  the  same  relative  estimate  in  regard  to 
other  furs,  as  when  they  maiked  the  rank  of  the  proud 
crusader,  and  were  emblazoned  in  heraldry  ;  but  in 
most  European  nations  they  are  now  worn  promis- 
cuously by  the  opulent. 

The  martens  from  Northern  Asia  and  the  Moun- 
tains of  Kamschatka  are  much  superior  to  the  Ameri- 
can, though  in  every  pack  of  American  marten  skins 
there  are  a  certain  number  which  are  beautifully  shad- 
ed, and  of  a  dark  brown  olive  color,  of  great  depth 
and  richness. 

Next  these  in  value,  for  ornament  and  utility,  are 
the  sea  otter,  the  mink,  and  the  fiery  fox. 

The  fiery  fox  is  the  bright  red  of  Asia  ;  is  more 
brilliantly  colored  and  of  finer  fur  than  any  other  of 
the  genus.  It  is  highly  valued  for  the  splendor  of  its 
red  color  Aid  the  fineness  of  its  fur.  It  is  the  stand- 
ard of  value  on  the  northeastern  coast  of  Asia. 

The  sea  otter,  which  was  first  introduced  into  com- 
merce in  1725,  from  the  Aleutian  and  Kurile  Islands, 
is  an  exceedingly  fine,  soft,  close  fur,  jet  black  in 
winter,  with  a  silken  gloss.  The  fur  of  the  young 
animal  is  of  a  beautiful  brown  color.  It  is  met  with 
in  great  abundance  in  Bhering's  Island,  Kamschatka. 
Aleutian  and  Fox  Islands,  and  is  also  taken  on  the 
opposite  coasts  of  North  America.  It  is  sometimes 
taken  with  nets,  but  more  frequently  with  clubs  and 
spears.  Their  food  is  principally  lobster  and  other 
shell-fish. 

In  1780  furs  had  become  so  scarce  in  Siberia  that 
the  supply  was  insufficient  for  the  demand  in  the  Asi- 
atic countries.  It  was  at  this  time  that  the  sea  otter 
was  introduced  into  the  markets  for  China.  The 
skins  brought  such  incredible  prices  as  to  originate 
immediately  several  American  and  British  expeditions 
to  the  northern  islands  of  the  Pacific,  to  Nootka 
Sound  and  the  northwest  coast  of  America  ;  but  the 
Russians  already  had  possession  of  the  tract  which 
they  now  hold,  and  had  arranged  a  trade  for  the  sea 
otter  with  the  Koudek  tribes.  They  do  not  engross 
the  trade,  however  ;  the  American  northwest  trading 
ships  procure  them,  all  along  the  coast,  from  the 
Indians. 

At  one  period  the  fur  seals  formed  no  inconsider- 
able item  in  the  trade.  South  Georgia,  in  south  lati- 
tude fifty-five  degrees,  discovered  in  1675,  was  ex- 
plored by  Captain  Cook  in  1771.  The  Americans 


*  The  finest  fur  and  the  darkest  color  are  most  esteemed  ;  and 
whether  the  difference  arises  from  the  age  of  the  animal,  or  from 
some  peculiarity  of  location,  is  not  known.  They  do  not  vary 
more  from  the  common  marten  than  (he  Arabian  horse  from  the 
shaggy  Canadian. 


APPENDIX. 


433 


immediately  commenced  carrying  seal  skins  thence  to 
China,  where  they  obtained  the  most  exorbitant 
prices.  One  million  two  hundred  thousand  skins  have 
been  taken  from  that  island  alone,  and  nearly  an 
equal  number  from  the  Island  of  Desolation,  since 
they  were  first  resorted  to  for  the  purpose  of  com- 
merce. 

The  discovery  of  the  South  Shetlands,  sixty-three 
degrees  south  latitude,  in  1818,  added  surprisingly  to 
the  trade  in  fur  seals.  The  number  taken  from  the 
South  Shetlands  in  1821  and  1822  amounted  to  three 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand.  This  valuable  animal 
is  now  almost  extinct  in  all  these  islands,  owing  to 
the  exterminating  system  adopted  by  the  hunters. 
They  are  still  taken  on  the  Lobos  Islands,  where  the 
provident  government  of  Montevideo  restrict  the  fish- 
ery, or  hunting,  within  certain  limits,  which  insures 
an  annual  return  of  the  seals.  At  certain  seasons  these 
amphibia,  for  the  purpose  of  renewing  their  coat, 
come  up  on  the  dark  frowning  rocks  and  precipices, 
where  there  is  not  a  trace  of  vegetation.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  January  the  islands  are  partially  cleared  of 
snow,  where  a  few  patches  of  short  straggling  grass 
spring  up  in  favorable  situations  ;  but  the  seals  do 
not  resort  to  it  for  food.  They  remain  on  the  rocks 
not  less  than  two  months,  without  any  sustenance, 
when  they  return  much  emaciated  to  the  sea. 

Bears  of  various  species  and  colors,  many  varieties 
of  the  fox,  the  wolf,  the  beaver,  the  otter,  the  marten, 
the  racoon,  the  badger,  the  wolverine,  the  mink,  the 
lynx,  the  muskrat,  the  woodchuck,  the  rabbit,  the 
hare,  and  the  squirrel,  are  natives  of  North  America. 

The  beaver,  otter,  lynx,  fisher,  hare,  and  racoon, 
are  used  principally  for  hats  ;  while  the  bears  of 
several  varieties  furnish  an  excellent  material  for 
sleigh  linings,  for  cavalry  caps,  and  other  military 
equipments.  The  fur  of  the  black  fox  is  the  most 
valuable  of  any  of  the  American  varieties  ;  and  next 
to  that  the  red,  which  is  exported  to  China  and 
Smyrna.  In  China,  the  red  is  employed  for  trim- 
mings, linings,  and  robes,  the  latter  being  variegated 
by  adding  the  black  fur  of  the  paws,  in  spots  or 
waves.  There  are  many  other  varieties  of  American 
fox,  such  as  the  gray,  the  white,  the  cross,  the  silver, 
and  the  dun-colored.  The  silver  fox  is  a  rare  animal, 
a  native  of  the  woody  country  below  the  falls  of  the 
Columbia  River.  It  has  a  long,  thick,  deep  lead- 
colored  fur,  intermingled  with  long  hairs,  invariably 
white  at  the  top,  forming  a  bright  lustrous  silver  gray, 
esteemed  by  some  more  beautiful  than  any  other  kind 
of  fox. 

The  skins  of  the  buffalo,  of  the  Rocky  mountain 
sheep,  of  various  deer  and  of  the  antelope,  are  in- 
cluded in  the  fur  trade  with  the  Indians  and  trappers 
of  the  north  and  west. 

Fox  and  seal  skins  are  sent  from  Greenland  to  Den- 
mark. The  white  fur  of  the  arctic  fox  and  polar  bear 
is  sometimes  found  in  the  packs  brought  to  the  trad- 
ers by  the  most  northern  tribes  of  Indians,  but  is  not 
particularly  valuable.  The  silver-tipped  rabbit  is 
peculiar  to  England,  and  is  sent  thence  to  Russia  and 
China. 

Other  furs  are  employed  and  valued  according  to 
the  caprices  of  fashion,  as  well  in  those  countries 
where  they  are  needed  for  defences  against  the  severity 
of  the  seasons,  as  among  the  inhabitants  of  milder 
climates,  who,  being  of  Tartar  or  Sclavonian  descent, 
are  said  to  inherit  an  attachment  to  furred  clothing. 
Such  are  the  inhabitants  of  Poland,  of  Southern  Rus- 
sia, of  China,  of  Persia,  of  Turkey,  and  all  the  nations 
of  Gothic  origin  in  the  middle  and  western  parts  of 
Europe.  Under  the  burning  suns  of  Syria  and  Egypt 
and  the  mild  climes  of  Bucharia  and  Independent 
Tartary,  there  is  also  a  constant  demand,  and  a  great 
consumption,  where  there  exists  no  physical  necessity. 
In  our  own  temperate  latitudes,  besides  their  use  in 
the  arts,  they  are  in  request  for  ornament  and  warmth 
during  the  winter,  and  large  quantities  are  annually 
consumed  for  both  purposes  in  the  United  States. 

From  the  foregoing  statements  it  appears  that  the 
fur  trade  must  henceforward  decline.  The  advanced 


state  of  geographical  science  shows  that  no  new 
countries  remain  to  be  explored.  In  North  America 
the  animals  are  slowly  decreasing,  from  the  persever- 
ing efforts  and  the  indiscriminate  slaughter  practiced 
by  the  hunters,  and  by  the  appropriation  to  the  uses 
of  man  of  those  forests  and  rivers  which  have  afford- 
ed them  food  and  protection.  They  recede  with  the 
aborigines,  before  the  tide  of  civilization  ;  but  a 
diminished  supply  will  remain  in  the  mountains  and 
uncultivated  tracts  of  this  and  other  countries,  if  the 
avidity  of  the  hunter  can  be  restrained  within  proper 
limitations. 


Height  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Various  estimates  have  been  made  of  the  height  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  any 
have,  as  yet,  done  justice  to  their  real  altitude,  which 
promises  to  place  them  only  second  to  the  highest 
mountains  of  the  known  world.  Their  height  has 
been  diminished  to  the  eye  by  the  great  elevation  of 
the  plains  from  which  they  rise.  They  consist,  ac- 
cording to  Long,  of  ridges,  knobs,  and  peaks,  vari- 
ously disposed.  The  more  elevated  parts  are  cov- 
reed  with  perpetual  snows,  which  contribute  to  give 
them  a  luminous,  and,  at  a  great  distance,  even  a 
brilliant  appearance  ;  whence  they  derived,  among 
some  of  the  first  discoverers,  the  name  of  the  Shining 
Mountains. 

James's  Peak  has  generally  been  cited  as  the  high- 
est of  the  chain  ;  and  its  elevation  above  the  common 
level  has  been  ascertained,  by  a  trigonometrical 
measurement,  to  be  about  eight  thousand  five  hun- 
dred feet.  Mr.  Long,  however,  judged,  from  the 
position  of  the  snow  near  the  summits  of  other  peaks 
and  ridges  at  no  great  distance  from  it,  that  they  were 
much  higher.  Having  heard  Professor  Renwick,  of 
New  York,  express  an  opinion  of  the  altitude  of  these 
mountains  far  beyond  what  had  usually  been  ascribed 
to  them,  we  applied  to  him  for  the  authority  on  which 
he  grounded  his  observation,  and  here  subjoin  his 
reply  : 

COLUMBIA  COLLEGE,  NEW  YORK,  Feb.  23,  1836. 

DEAR  SIR  :  In  compliance  with  your  request,  I  have 
to  communicate  some  facts  in  relation  to  the  heights 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  the  sources  whence  I 
obtained  the  information. 

In  conversation  with  Simon  M'Gillivray,  Esq.,  a 
partner  of  the  Northwest  Company,  he  stated  to  me 
his  impression,  that  the  mountains  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  route  pursued  by  the  traders  of  that  company  were 
nearly"  as  high  as  the  Himalayas.  He  had  himself 
crossed  by  this  route,  seen  the  snowy  summits  of  the 
peaks,  and  experienced  a  degree  of  cold  which  re- 
quired a  spirit  thermometer  to  indicate  it.  His 
authority  for  the  estimate  of  the  heights  was  a  gentle- 
man who  had  been  employed  for  several  years  as 
surveyor  of  that  company.  This  conversation  oc- 
curred about  sixteen  years  since. 

A  year  or  two  afterward  I  had  the  pleasure  of  din- 
ing at  Major  Delafield's  with  Mr.  Thompson,  the  gen- 
tleman referred  toby  Mr.  M'Gillivray.  I  inquired  of 
him  in  relation  to  the  circumstances  mentioned  by 
Mr.  M'Gillivray,  and  he  stated  that,  by  the  joint 
means  of  the  barometric  and  trigonometric  measure- 
ment, he  had  ascertained  the  height  of  one  of  the 
peaks  to  be  about  twenty-five  thousand  feet,  and  there 
were  others  of  nearly  the  same  height  in  the  vicinity. 
I  am,  dear  sir,  yours  truly, 

JAMES  RENWICK. 

To  W.  IRVING,  Esq. 


Suggestions  with  respect  to  the  Indian  tribes,  and  the 
protection  of  our  Trade. 

In  the  course  of  this  work,  a  few  general  remarks 
have  been  hazarded  respecting  the  Indian  tribes  of 
the  prairies,  and  the  dangers,  to  be  apprehended  from 


434 


APPENDIX. 


them  in  future  times  to  our  trade  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  with  the  Spanish  frontiers.  Since 
writing  those  remarks,  we  have  met  with  some  excel- 
lent observations  and  suggestions,  in  manuscript,  on 
the  same  subject,  written  by  Captain  Bonneville,  of 
the  United  States  army,  who  has  lately  returned  from 
a  long  residence  among  the  tribes  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Captain  B.  approves  highly  of  the  plan 
recently  adopted  by  the  United  States  government  for 
the  organization  of  a  regiment  of  dragoons  for  the 
protection  of  our  western  frontier,  and  the  trade 
across  the  prairies.  "  No  other  species  of  military 
force,"  he  observes,  "  is  at  all  competent  to  cope  with 
these  restless  and  wandering  hordes,  who  require  to 
be  opposed  with  swiftness  quite  as  much  as  with 
strength  ;  and  the  consciousness  that  a  troop,  uniting 
these  qualifications,  is  always  on  the  alert  to  avenge 
their  outrages  upon  the  settlers  and  traders,  will  go 
very  far  toward  restraining  them  from  the  perpetra- 
tion of  those  thefts  and  murders  which  they  have 
heretofore  committed  with  impunity,  whenever  strata- 
gem or  superiority  of  force  has  given  them  the  advan- 
tage. Their  interest  already  has  done  something 
toward  their  pacification  with  our  countrymen.  From 
the  traders  among  them,  they  receive  their  supplies 
in  the  greatest  abundance,  and  upon  very  equitable 
terms  ;  and  when  it  is  remembered  that  a  very  con- 
siderable amount  of  property  is  yearly  distributed 
among  them  by  the  government,  as  presents,  it  will 
readily  be  perceived  that  they  are  greatly  dependent 
upon  us  for  their  most  valued  resources.  If,  super- 
added  to  this  inducement,  a  frequent  display  of  mili- 
tary power  be  made  in  their  territories,  there  can  be 
little  doubt  that  the  desired  security  and  peace  will  be 
speedily  afforded  to  our  own  people.  But  the  idea  of 
establishing  a  permanent  amity  and  concord  among 
the  various  east  and  west  tribes  themselves,  seems  to 
me,  if  not  wholly  impracticable,  at  least  infinitely 
more  difficult  than  many  excellent  philanthropists 
have  hoped  and  believed.  Those  nations  which  have 
so  lately  emigrated  from  the  midst  of  our  settlements 
to  live  upon  our  western  borders,  and  have  made  some 
progress  in  agriculture  and  the  arts  of  civilization, 
have,  in  the  property  they  have  acquired,  and  the  pro- 
tection and  aid  extended  to  them,  too  many  advan- 
tages to  be  induced  readily  to  take  up  arms  against  us, 
particularly  if  they  can  be  brought  to  the  full  convic- 
tion that  their  new  homes  will  be  permanent  and  un- 
disturbed ;  and  there  is  every  reason  and  motive,  in 
policy  as  well  as  humanity,  for  our  ameliorating  their 
condition  by  every  means  in  our  power.  But  the 
case  is  far  different  with  regard  to  the  Osages,  the 
Kanzas,  the  Pawnees,  and  other  roving  hordes  be- 
yond the  frontiers  of  the  settlements.  Wild  and  rest- 
less in  their  character  and  habits,  they  are  by  no 
means  so  susceptible  of  control  or  civilization  ;  and 
they  are  urged  by  strong,  and,  to  them,  irresistible 
causes  in  their  situation  and  necessities,  to  the  daily 
perpetration  of  violence  and  fraud.  Their  perma- 
nent subsistence,  for  example,  is  derived  from  the 
buffalo  hunting  grounds,  which  lie  a  great  distance 
from  their  towns.  Twice  a  year  they  are  obliged  to 
make  long  and  dangerous  expeditions,  to  procure  the 
necessary  provisions  for  themselves  and  their  fami- 
lies. For  this  purpose  horses  are  absolutely  requi- 
site, for  their  own  comfort  and  safety,  as  well  as  for 
the  transportation  of  their  food  and  their  little  stock 
of  valuables  ;  and  without  them  they  would  be  re- 
duced, during  a  great  portion  of  the  year,  to  a  state 
of  abject  misery  and  privation.  They  have  no  brood 
mares,  nor  any  trade  sufficiently  valuable  to  supply 
their  yearly  losses,  and  endeavor  to  keep  up  their 
stock  by  stealing  horses  from  the  other  tribes  to  the 
west  and  southwest.  Our  own  people,  and  the  tribes 
immediately  upon  our  borders,  may  indeed  be  pro- 
tected from  their  depredations  ;  and  the  Kanzas, 
Osages,  Pawnees,  and  others,  may  be  induced  to  re- 
main at  peace  among  themselves,  so  long  as  they  are 
permitted  to  pursue  the  old  custom  of  levying  upon 
the  Camanches  and  other  remote  nations  for  their 
complement  of  steeds  for  the  warriors,  and  pack- 


horses  for  their  transportations  to  and  from  the  hunt- 
ing ground.  But  the  instant  they  are  forced  to  main- 
tain a  peaceful  and  inoffensive  demeanor  toward  the 
tribes  along  the  Mexican  border,  and  find  that  every 
violation  of  their  rights  is  followed  by  the  avenging 
arm  of  our  government,  the  result  must  be,  that,  "re- 
duced to  a  wretchedness  and  want  which  they  can  ill 
brook,  and  feeling  the  certainty  of  punishment  for 
every  attempt  to  ameliorate  their  condition  in  the 
only  way  they  as  yet  comprehend,  they  will  abandon 
their  unfruitful  territory  and  remove  to  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  Mexican  lands,  and  there  carry  on  a 
vigorous  predatory  warfare  indiscriminately  upon  the 
Mexicans  and  our  own  people  trading  or  travelling  in 
that  quarter. 

"  The  Indians  of  the  prairies  are  almost  innumer- 
able. Their  superior  horsemanship,  which,  in  my 
opinion,  far  exceeds  that  of  any  other  people  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  their  daring  bravery,  their  cunning 
and  skill  in  the  warfare  of  the  wilderness,  and  the 
astonishing  rapidity  and  secrecy  with  which  they  are 
accustomed  to  move  in  their  martial  expeditions,  will 
always  render  them  most  dangerous  and  vexatious 
neighbors,  when  their  necessities  or  their  discontents 
may  drive  them  to  hostility  with  our  frontiers.  Their 
mode  and  principles  of  warfare  will  always  protect 
them  from  final  and  irretrievable  defeat,  and  secure 
their  families  from  participating  in  any  blow  however 
severe,  which  our  retribution  might  deal  out  to  them. 

"  The  Camanches  lay  the  Mexicans  under  contribu- 
tion for  horses  and  mules,  which  they  are  always  en- 
gaged in  stealing  from  them  in  incredible  numbers  ; 
and  from  the  Camanches,  all  the  roving  tribes  of  the 
far  West,  by  a  similar  exertion  of  skill  and  daring, 
supply  themselves  in  turn.  It  seems  to  me,  therefore, 
under  all  these  circumstances,  that  the  apparent  futil- 
ity of  any  philanthropic  schemes  for  the  benefit  of 
these  nations,  and  a  regard  for  our  own  protection, 
concur  in  recommending  that  we  remain  satisfied 
with  maintaining  peace  upon  our  own  immediate 
borders,  and  leave  the  Mexicans  and  the  Camanches, 
and  all  the  tribes  hostile  to  these  last,  to  settle  theii 
differences  and  difficulties  in  their  own  way. 

"  In  order  to  give  full  security  and  piotection  to 
our  trading  parties  circulating  in  all  directions 
through  the  great  prairies,  I  am  under  the  impression 
that  a  few  judicious  measures  on  the  part  of  the  gov- 
ernment, involving  a  very  limited  expense,  would  be 
sufficient.  And,  in  attaining  this  end,  which  of  itself 
has  already  become  an  object  of  public  interest  and 
import,  another,  of  much  greater  consequence,  might 
be  brought  about,  viz.,  the  securing  to  the  States  a 
most  valuable  and  increasing  trade,  now  carried  on  by 
caravans  directly  to  Santa  Fe. 

"  As  to  the  first  desideratum  :  the  Indians  can  only 
be  made  to  respect  the  lives  and  property  of  the 
American  parties,  by  rendering  them  dependent  upon 
us  for  their  supplies  ;  which  can  alone  be  done  with 
complete  effect  by  the  establishment  of  a  trading  post, 
with  resident  traders,  at  some  point  which  will  unite 
a  sufficient  number  of  advantages  to  attract  the 
several  tribes  to  itself,  in  preference  to  their  present 
places  of  resort  for  that  purpose  ;  for  it  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  the  Indians  will  always  protect  their 
trader,  and  those  in  whom  he  is  interested,  so  long  as 
they  derive  benefits  from  him.  The  alternative  pre- 
sented to  those  at  the  north,  by  the  residence  of  the 
agents  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  among  them, 
renders  the  condition  of  our  people  in  that  quarter 
less  secure  ;  but  I  think  it  will  appear,  at  once  upon 
the  most  cursory  examination,  that  no  such  opposition 
further  south  could  be  maintained,  so  as  to  weaken 
the  benefits  of  such  an  establishment  as  is  here  sug- 
gested. 

"  In  considering  this  matter,  the  first  question  which 
presents  itself  is,  Where  do  these  tribes  now  make 
their  exchanges,  and  obtain  their  necessary  supplies  ? 
They  resort  almost  exclusively  to  the  Mexicans,  who 
themselves  purchase  from  us  whatever  the  Indians 
most  seek  for.  In  this  point  of  view,  therefore,  citttris 
paribus,  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for  us  to  monopo- 


APPENDIX. 


435 


lize  the  whole  traffic.  All  that  is  wanting  is  some  lo- 
cation more  convenient  for  the  natives  than  that  offered 
by  the  Mexcians,  to  give  us  the  undisputed  superi- 
ority ;  and  the  selection  of  such  a  point  requires  but  a 
knowledge  of  the  single  fact,  that  these  nations  inva- 
riably winter  upon  the  head  waters  of  the  Arkansas, 
and  there  prepare  all  their  buffalo  robes  for  trade. 
These  robes  are  heavy,  and  to  the  Indian  very  diffi- 
cult of  transportation.  Nothing  but  necessity  induces 
them  to  travel  any  great  distance  with  such  inconven- 
ient baggage.  A  post,  therefore,  established  upon 
the  head  waters  of  the  Arkansas,  must  infallibly  secure 
an  uucontested  preference  over  that  of  the  Mexicans, 
even  at  their  prices  and  rates  of  barter.  Then  let  the 
dragoons  occasionally  move  about  among  these  peo- 
ple in  large  parties,  impressing  them  with  the  proper 
estimate  of  our  power  to  protect  and  to  punish,  and 
at  once  we  have  complete  and  assured  security  for  all 
citizens  whose  enterprise  may  lead  them  beyond  the 
border,  and  an  end  to  the  outrages  and  depredations 
which  now  dog  the  footsteps  of  the  traveller  in  the 
prairies,  and  arrest  and  depress  the  most  advanta- 
geous commerce.  Such  a  post  need  not  be  stronger 
than  fifty  men  ;  twenty-five  to  be  employed  as  hunt- 
ers, to  supply  the  garrison,  and  the  residue  as  a  de- 
fence against  any  hostility.  Situated  here  upon  the 
good  lands  of  the  Arkansas,  in  the  midst  of  abun- 
dance of  timber,  while  it  might  be  kept  up  at  a  most 
inconsiderable  expense,  such  an  establishment  within 
ninety  miles  of  Santa  Fe  or  Taos  would  be  more  than 
justified  by  the  other  and  more  important  advantages 
before  alluded  to,  leaving  the  protection  of  the  traders 
with  the  Indian  tribes  entirely  out  of  the  question. 

''  This  great  irade,  carried  on  by  caravans  to  Santa 
Fe,  annually  loads  one  hundred  wagons  with  merchan- 
dise, which  is  bartered  in  the  northern  provinces  of 
Mexico  for  cash  and  for  beaver  furs.  The  numerous 
articles  excluded  as  contraband,  and  the  exorbitant 
duties  laid  upon  all  those  that  are  admitted  by  the 
Mexican  government,  present  so  many  obstacles  to 
commerce,  that  I  am  well  persuaded  that  if  a  post, 
such  as  is  here  suggested,  should  be  established  on 
the  Arkansas,  it  would  become  the  place  of  deposit, 


not  only  for  the  present  trade,  but  for  one  infinitely 
more  extended.  Here  the  Mexicans  might  purchase 
their  supplies,  and  might  well  afford  to  sell  them  at 
prices  which  would  silence  all  competition  from  any 
other  quarter. 

"  These  two  trades,  with  the  Mexicans  and  the  In- 
dians, centring  at  this  post,  would  give  rise  to  a 
large  village  of  traders  and  laborers,  and  would  un- 
doubtedly be  hailed,  by  all  that  section  of  country,  as 
a  permanent  and  invaluable  advantage.  A  few  pack- 
horses  would  carry  all  the  clothing  and  ammunition 
necessary  for  the  post  during  the  first  year,  and  two 
light  field-pieces  would  be  all  the  artillery  required 
for  its  defence.  Afterward,  all  the  horses  required 
for  the  use  of  the  establishment  might  be  purchased 
from  the  Mexicans  at  the  low  price  of  ten  dollars 
each  ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  whatever  animals  might 
be  needed  to  supply  the  losses  among  the  dragoons 
traversing  the  neighborhood,  could  be  readily  pro- 
cured. The  Upper  Missouri  Indians  can  furnish 
horses,  at  very  cheap  rates,  to  any  number  of  the  same 
troops  who  might  be  detailed  for  the  defence  of  the 
northern  frontier  ;  and,  in  other  respects,  a  very 
limited  outlay  of  money  would  suffice  to  maintain  a 
post  in  that  section  of  the  country. 

"  From  these  considerations,  and  my  own  personal 
observation,  I  am,  therefore,  disposed  to  believe  that 
two  posts  established  by  the  government,  one  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Yellow  Stone  River,  and  one  on  the 
Arkansas,  would  completely  protect  all  our  people  in 
every  section  of  the  great  wilderness  of  the  West  ; 
while  other  advantages,  at  least  with  regard  to  one  of 
them,  confirm  and  urge  the  suggestion.  A  fort  at  the 
mouth  of  Yellow  Stone,  garrisoned  by  fifty  men, 
would  be  perfectly  safe.  The  establishment  might  be 
constructed  simply  with  a  view  to  the  stores,  stables 
for  the  dragoons'  horses,  and  quarters  for  the  regular 
garrison  ;  the  rest  being  provided  with  sheds  or 
lodges,  erected  in  the  vicinity,  for  their  residence  dur- 
ing the  winter  months." 


THE   END. 


TOUR  ON  THE  PRAIRIES. 


BY 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


INTRODUCTION. 

HAVING,  since  my  return  to  the  United  States,  made  a 
wide  and  varied  tour,  for  the  gratification  of  my  curi- 
osity, it  has  been  supposed  that  I  did  it  for  the  purpose 
of  writing  a  book  ;  and* it  has  more  than  once  been  in- 
timated in  the  papers,  that  such  a  work  was  actually  in 
the  press,  containing  scenes  and  sketches  of  the  Far 
West. 

These  announcements,  gratuitously  made  for  me,  be- 
fore I  had  put  pen  to  paper,  or  even  contemplated  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  have  embarrassed  me  exceedingly.  I 
have  been  like  a  poor  actor,  who  finds  himself  an- 
nounced for  a  part  he  had  no  thought  of  playing,  and 
his  appearance  expected  on  the  stage  before  he  has  com- 
mitted a  line  to  memory. 

I  have  always  had  a  repugnance,  amounting  almost  to 
disability,  to  write  in  the  face  of  expectation ;  and,  in 
the  present  instance,  I  was  expected  to  write  about  a 
region  fruitful  of  wonders  and  adventures,  and  which 
had  already  been  made  the  theme  of  spirit-stirring  nar- 
ratives from  able  pens ;  yet  about  which  I  had  nothing 
wonderful  or  adventurous  to  offer. 

Since  such,  however,  seems  to  be  the  desire  of  the 
public,  and  that  they  take  sufficient  interest  in  my 
wanderings  to  deem  them  worthy  of  recital,  I  have  hast- 
ened, as  promptly  as  possible,  to  meet  in  some  degree, 
the  expectation  which  others  have  excited.  For  this 
purpose,  I  have,  as  it  were,  plucked  a  few  leaves  out  of 
my  memorandum  book,  containing  a  month's  foray  be- 
yond the  outposts  of  human  habitation,  into  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  Far  West.  It  forms,  indeed,  but  a  small 
portion  of  an  extensive  tour;  but  it  is  an  episode,  com- 
plete as  far  as  it  goes.  As  such,  I  offer  it  to  the  public, 
with  great  diffidence.  It  is  a  simple  narrative  of  every 
day  occurrences ;  such  as  happen  to  every  one  who 
travels  the  prairies.  I  have  no  wonders  to  describe,  nor 
any  moving  accidents  by  flood  or  field  to  narrate ;  and 
as  to  those  who  look  for  a  marvellous  or  adventurous 
story  at  my  hands,  I  can  only  reply,  in  the  words  of  the 
weary  knife-grinder  :  "  Story  !  God  bless  you,  I  have 
none  to  tell,  sir." 


CHAPTER   I. 

The  Paionee  Hunting  Grounds. —  Travelling  Companions. 
— A  Commissioner. — A  Virtuoso. — A  Seeker  af  Ad- 
ventures.— A  Gil  Bias  of  the  Frontier. — A  Young' 
Man  s  Anticipations  of  Pleasure. 

IN  the  often  vaunted  regions  of  the  Far  West, 
several  hundred  miles  beyond  the  Mississippi, 
extends  a  vast  tract  of  uninhabited  country,  where 


there  is  neither  to  be  seen  the  log  house  of  the 
white  man,  nor  the  wigwam  of  the  Indian.     It 
consists  of  great  grassy  plains,  interspersed  with 
forests   and  groves,    and   clumps   of  trees,    and 
watered  by  the  Arkansas,  the  grand  Canadian, 
the  Red  River,  and  their  tributary  streams.     Over 
these  fertile  and  verdant  wastes  still  roam  the  elk, 
the  buffalo,  and  the  wild  horse,  in  all  their  native 
freedom.     These,  in  fact,  are  the  hunting  grounds 
of  the  various  tribes  of  the  Far  West.     Hither 
repair  the  Osage,  the  Creek,  the  Delaware  and 
other  tribes   that   have   linked   themselves   with 
civilization,  and  live  within  the   vicinity  of  the 
white  settlements.    Here  resort  also,  the  Pawnees, 
the  Comanches,  and  other  fierce,  and  as  yet  in- 
dependent tribes,  the  nomads  of  the  prairies,  or 
the  inhabitants  of  the  skirts  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains.    The  regions  I  have  mentioned  form  a  de- 
batable ground  of  these  warring  and  vindictive 
tribes  ;  none  of  them  presume  to  erect  a  perma- 
nent habitation  within  its  borders.     Their  hunters 
and  "Braves"  repair  thither  in  numerous  bodies 
during  the  season  of  game,  throw  up  their  tran- 
sient hunting  camps,  consisting  of  light  bowers 
covered  with  bark  and  skins,  commit  sad  havoc 
among   the   innumerable    herds   that  graze    the 
prairies,  and  having  loaded  themselves  with  veni- 
son and  buffalo  meat,  warily  retire  from  the  dan- 
gerous neighborhood.   These  expeditions  partake, 
always,  of  a  warlike  character ;  the  hunters  arc 
all  armed  for  action,  offensive  and  defensive,  and 
are  bound  to  incessant  vigilance.     Should  they, 
in  their  excursions,  meet  the  hunters  of  an  adverse 
tribe,  savage  conflicts  take  place.     Their  encamp- 
ments, too,  are  always  subject  to  be  surprised  by 
wandering  war  parties,  and  their  hunters,  when 
scattered  in  pursuit  of  game,  to  be  captured  or 
massacred  by  lurking  foes.    Mouldering  skulls  and 
skeletons,  bleaching  in  some  dark  ravine,  or  near 
the  traces  of  a  hunting  camp,  occasionally  mark 
the  scene  of  a  foregone  act  of  blood,  and  let  the 
wanderer  know  the  dangerous  nature  of  the  region 
he  is  traversing.    It  is  the  purport  of  the  following 
pages  to  narrate  a  month's  excursion  to  these 
noted  hunting  grounds,  through  a  tract  of  country 
which  had  not  as  yet  been  explored  by  white  men. 
It  was  early  in  October,  1832,  that  I  arrived  at 
Fort  Gibson,  a  frontier  post  of  the  Far  West, 
situated  on  the  Neosho,  or  Grand  River,  near  its 
confluence  with  the  Arkansas.     I  had  been  travel- 


438 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


ling  for  a  month  past,  with  a  small  party  from  St. 
Louis,  up  the  banks  of  the  Missouri,  and  along 
the  frontier  line  of  agencies  and  missions  that 
extends  from  the  Missouri  to  the  Arkansas.  Our 
party  was  headed  by  one  of  the  Commissioners 
appointed  by  the  government  of  the  United  States 
to  superintend  the  settlement  of  the  Indian  tribes 
migrating  from  the  east  to  the  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi. In  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  he  was  thus 
visiting  the  various  outposts  of  civilization. 

And  here  let  me  bear  testimony  to  the  merits 
of  this  worthy  leader  of  our  little  band.  He  was 
a  native  of  one  of  the  towns  of  Connecticut,  a 
man  in  whom  a  course  of  legal  practice  and  po- 
litical life  had  not  been  able  to  vitiate  an  innate 
simplicity  and  benevolence  of  heart.  The  greater 
part  of  his  days  had  been  passed  in  the  bosom  of 
his  family  and  the  society  of  deacons,  elders,  and 
selectmen,  on  the  peaceful  banks  of  the  Connec- 
ticut ;  when  suddenly  he  had  been  called  to 
mount  his  steed,  shoulder  his  rifle,  and  mingle 
among  stark  hunters,  backwoodsmen,  and  naked 
savages,  on  the  trackless  wilds  of  the  Far  West. 

Another  of  my  fellow-travellers  was  Mr.  L.,  an 
Englishman  by  birth,  but  descended  from  a  for- 
eign stock  ;  and  who  had  all  the  buoyancy  and 
accommodating  spirit  of  a  native  of  the  Conti- 
nent. Having  rambled  over  many  countries,  he 
had  become,  to  a  certain  degree,  a  citizen  of  the 
world,  easily  adapting  himself  to  any  change. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  thousand  occupations  ;  a 
botanist,  a  geologist,  a  hunter  of  beetles  and  but- 
terflies, a  musical  amateur,  a  sketcher  of  no  mean 
pretensions,  in  short,  a  complete  virtuoso  ;  added 
to  which,  he  was  a  very  indefatigable,  if  not  al- 
ways a  very  successful,  sportsman.  Never  had  a 
man  more  irons  in  the  fire,  and,  consequently, 
never  was  man  more  busy  nor  more  cheerful. 

My  third  fellow-traveller  was  one  who  had  ac- 
companied the  former  from  Europe,  and  travelled 
with  him  as  his  Telemachus  ;  being  apt,  like  his 
prototype,  to  give  occasional  perplexity  and  dis- 
quiet to  his  Mentor.  He  was  a  young  Swiss 
Count,  scarce  twenty-one  years  of  age,  full  of 
talent  and  spirit,  but  galliard  in  the  extreme,  and 
prone  to  every  kind  of  wild  adventure. 

Having  made  this  mention  of  my  comrades,  I 
must  not  pass  over  unnoticed,  a  personage  of  in- 
ferior rank,  but  of  all-pervading  and  prevalent 
importance  :  the  squire,  the  groom,  the  cook, 
the  tent  man,  in  a  word,  the  factotum,  and,  I 
may  add,  the  universal  meddler  and  marplot  of 
our  party.  This  was  a  little  swarthy,  meagre, 
French  Creole,  named  Antoine,  but  familiarly 
dubbed  Tonish  :  a  kind  of  Gil  Bias  of  the  fron- 
tier, who  had  passed  a  scrambling  life,  some- 
times among  white  men,  sometimes  among  In- 
dians ?  sometimes  in  the  employ  of  traders,  mis- 
sionaries, and  Indian  agents  ;  sometimes  ming- 
ling with  the  Osage  hunters.  We  picked  him  up 
at  St.  Louis,  near  which  he  had  a  small  farm,  an 
Indian  wife,  and  a  brood  of  half-blood  children. 
According  to  his  own  account,  however,  he  had  a 
wife  in  every  tribe  ;  in  fact,  if  all  this  little  vaga- 
bond said  of  himself  were  to  be  believed,  he  was 
without  morals,  without  caste,  without  creed, 
without  country,  and  even  without  language  ;  for 
he  spoke  a  jargon  of  mingled  French,  English, 
and  Osage.  He  was,  withal,  a  notorious  brag- 
gart, and  a  liar  of  the  first  water.  It  was  amus- 
ing to  hear  him  vapor  and  gasconade  about  his 
terrible  exploits  and  hairbreadth  escapes  in  war 
and  hunting.  In  the  midst  of  his  volubility,  he 
was  prone  to  be  seized  by  a  spasmodic  gasping, 
as  if  the  springs  of  his  jaws  were  suddenly  un- 


hinged ;  but  I  am  apt  to  think  it  was  caused  by 
some  falsehood  that  stuck  in  his  throat,  for  I 
generally  remarked  that  immediately  afterward 
there  bolted  forth  a  lie  of  the  first  magnitude. 

Our  route  had  been  a  pleasant  one,  quartering 
ourselves,  occasionally,  at  the  widely  separated 
establishments  of  the  Indian  missionaries,  but  in 
general  camping  out  in  the  fine  groves  that  bor- 
der the  streams,  and  sleeping  under  cover  of  a 
tent.  During  the  latter  part  of  our  tour  we  had 
pressed  forward,  in  hopes  of  arriving  in  time  at 
Fort  Gibson  to  accompany  the  Osage  hunters  on 
their  autumnal  visit  to  the  buffalo  prairies.  In- 
deed the  imagination  of  the  young  Count  had  be- 
come completely  excited  on  the  subjeci.  The 
grand  scenery  and  wild  habits  of  the  prairies  had 
set  his  spirits  madding,  and  the  stories  that  little 
Tonish  told  him  of  Indian  braves  and  Indian 
beauties,  of  hunting  buffaloes  and  catching  wild 
horses,  had  set  him  all  agog  for  a  dash  into  sav- 
age life.  He  was  a  bold  and  hard  rider,  and 
longed  to  be  scouring  the  hunting  grounds.  It 
was  amusing  to  hear  his  youthful  anticipations  of 
all  that  he  was  to  see,  and  do,  and  enjoy,  when 
mingling  among  the  Indians  and  participating  in 
their  hardy  adventures  ;  and  it  was  still  more 
amusing  to  listen  to  the  gasconadings  of  little 
Tonish,  who  volunteered  to  be  his  faithful  squire 
in  all  his  perilous  undertakings  ;  to  teach  him 
how  to  catch  the  wild  horse,  bring  clown  the 
buffalo,  and  win  the  smiles  of  Indian  princesses  ; 
— "  And  if  we  can  only  get  sight  of  a  prairie  on 
fire  !  "  said  the  young  Count — "  By  Gar,  I'll  set 
one  on  fire  myself!  "  cried  the  little  Frenchman. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Anticipations    Disappointed. — A'ezu  Plans. — Preparations 
to  Join  an  Exploring  Party. — Departure  from  J-'ort 
•Fording  of  the  Verdigris. — An  Indian  Cava- 


lier. 


THE  anticipations  of  a  young  man  are  prone  to 
meet  with  disappointment.  Unfortunately  for 
the  Count's  scheme  of  wild  campaigning,  before 
we  reached  the  end  of  our  journey,  we  heard 
that  the  Osage  hunters  had  set  forth  upon  their 
expedition  to  the  buffalo  grounds.  The  Count 
still  determined,  if  possible,  to  follow  on  their 
track  and  overtake  them,  and  for  this  purpose 
stopped  short  at  the  Osage  Agency,  a  few  miles 
distant  from  Fort  Gibson,  to  make  inquiries  and 
preparations.  His  travelling  companion,  Mr.  L., 
stopped  with  him  ;  while  the  Commissioner  and 
myself  proceeded  to  Fort  Gibson,  followed  by  the 
faithful  and  veracious  Tonish.  I  hinted  to  him 
his  promises  to  follow  the  Count  in  his  campaign- 
ings,  but  I  found  the  little  varlet  had  a  keen  eye 
to  self-interest.  He  was  aware  that  the  Commis- 
sioner, from  his  official  duties,  would  remain  for 
a  long  time  in  the  country,  and  be  likely  to  give 
him  permanent  employment,  while  the  sojourn  of 
the  Count  would  be  but  transient.  The  gascoiir 
ading  of  the  little  braggart  was  suddenly  there- 
fore at  an  end.  He  spake  not  another  word  to 
the  young  Count  about  Indians,  buffaloes,  and 
wild  horses,  but  putting  himself  tacitly  in  the 
train  of  the  Commissioner,  jogged  silently  after 
us  to  the  garrison. 

On  arriving  at  the  fort,  however,  a  new  chance 
presented  itself  for  a  cruise  on  the  prairies.  We 
learnt  that  a  company  of  mounted  rangers,  or 
riflemen,  had  departed  but  three  days  previous 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


439 


to  make  a  wide  exploring  tour  from  the  Arkan- 
sas to  the  Red  River,  including  a  part  of  the 
Pawnee  hunting  grounds  where  no  party  of  white 
men  had  as  yet  penetrated.  Here,  then,  was  an 
opportunity  of  ranging  over  those  dangerous  and 
interesting  regions  under  the  safeguard  of  a  pow- 
erful escort  ;  for  the  Commissioner,  in  virtue  of 
his  office,  could  claim  the  service  of  this  newly 
raised  corps  of  riflemen,  and  the  country  they 
were  to  explore  was  destined  for  the  settlement 
of  some  of  the  migrating  tribes  connected  with 
his  mission. 

Our  plan  was  promptly  formed  and  put  into  ex- 
ecution. A  couple  of  Creek  Indians  were  sent  off 
express,  by  the  commander  of  Fort  Gibson,  to 
overtake  the  rangers  and  bring  them  to  a  halt  until 
the  Commissioner  and  his  party  should  be  able  to 
join  them.  As  we  should  have  a  march  of  three 
or  four  days  through  a  wild  country  before  we 
could  overtake  the  company  of  rangers,  an  escort 
of  fourteen  mounted  riflemen,  under  the  com- 
mand of  a  lieutenant,  was  assigned  us. 

We  sent  word  to  the  young  Count  and  Mr.  L. 
r.t  the  Osage  Agency,  of  our  new  plan  and  pros- 
pects, and  invited  them  to  accompany  us.  The 
Count,  however,  could  not  forego  the  delights  he 
had  promised  himself  in  mingling  with  absolutely 
savage  life.  In  reply,  he  agreed  to  keep  with  us 
until  we  should  come  upon  the  trail  of  the  Osage 
hunters,  when  it  was  his  fixed  resolve  to  strike  off 
into  the  wilderness  in  pursuit  of  them  ;  and  his 
faithful  Mentor,  though  he  grieved  at  the  mad- 
ness of  the  scheme,  was  too  stanch  a  friend  to 
desert  him.  A  general  rendezvous  of  our  party 
and  escort  was  appointed,  for  the  following  morn- 
ing, at  the  Agency. 

We  now  made  all  arrangements  for  prompt  de- 
parture. Our  baggage  had  hitherto  been  tran- 
sported on  a  light  wagon,  but  we  were  now  to 
break  our  way  through  an  untravelled  country, 
cut  up  by  rivers,  ravines,  and  thickets,  where  a 
vehicle  of  the  kind  would  be  a  complete  impedi- 
ment. We  were  to  travel  on  horseback,  in  hun- 
ter's style,  and  with  as  little  encumbrance  as  pos- 
sible. Our  baggage,  therefore,  underwent  a  rigid 
and  most  abstemious  reduction.  A  pair  of  saddle- 
bags, and  those  by  no  means  crammed,  sufficed 
for  each  man's  scanty  wardrobe,  and,  with  his 
great  coat,  were  to  be  carried  upon  the  steed  he 
rode.  The  rest  of  the  baggage  was  placed  on 
pack-horses.  Each  one  had  a  bear-skin  and  a 
couple  of  blankets  for  bedding,  and  there  was  a 
tent  to  shelter  us  in  case  of  sickness  or  bad 
weather.  We  took  care  to  provide  ourselves  with 
flour,  coffee,  and  sugar,  together  with  a  small 
supply  of  salt  pork  for  emergencies  ;  for  our  main 
subsistence  we  were  to  depend  upon  the  chase. 

Such  of  our  horses  as  had  not  been  tired  out  in 
our  recent  journey,  were  taken  with  us  as  pack- 
horses,  or  supernumeraries ;  but  as  we  were 
going  on  a  long  and  rough  tour,  where  there 
would  be  occasional  hunting,  and  where,  in  case 
of  meeting  with  hostile  savages,  the  safety  of  the 
rider  might  depend  upon  the  goodness  of  his 
steed,  we  took  care  to  be  well  mounted.  I  pro- 
cured a  stout  silver-gray ;  somewhat  rough,  but 
stanch  and  powerful ;  and  retained  a  hardy  pony 
which  I  had  hitherto  ridden,  and  which,  being 
somewhat  jaded,  was  suffered  to  ramble  along 
with  the  pack-horses,  to  be  mounted  only  in  case 
of  emergency. 

All  these  arrangements  being  made,  we  left 
Fort  Gibson,  on  the  morning  of  the  tenth  of  Octo- 
ber, and  crossing  the  river  in  the  front  of  it,  set 
off  for  the  rendezvous  at  the  Agency.  A  ride  of 


a  few  miles  brought  us  to  the  ford  of  the  Verdi- 
gris, a  wild  rocky  scene  overhung  with  forest 
trees.  We  descended  to  the  bank  of  the  river 
and  crossed  in  straggling  file,  the  horses  stepping 
cautiously  from  rock  to  rock,  and  in  a  manner 
feeling  about  for  a  foothold  beneath  the  rushing 
and  brawling  stream. 

Our  little  Frenchman,  Tonish,  brought  up  the 
rear  with  the  pack-horses.  He  was  in  high  glee, 
having  experienced  a  kind  of  promotion.  In  our 
journey  hitherto  he  had  driven  the  wagon,  which 
he  seemed  to  consider  a  very  inferior  employ  ; 
now  he  was  master  of  the  horse. 

He  sat  perched  like  a  monkey  behind  the  pack 
on  one  of  the  horses  ;  he  sang,  he  shouted,  he 
yelped  like  an  Indian,  and  ever  and  anon  blas- 
phemed the  loitering  pack-horses  in  his  jargon  of 
mingled  French,  English  and  Osage,  which  not 
one  of  them  could  understand. 

As  we  were  crossing  the  ford  we  saw  on  the 
opposite  shore  a  Creek  Indian  on  horseback.  He 
had  paused  to  reconnoitre  us  from  the  brow  of  a 
rock,  and  formed  a  picturesque  object,  in  unison 
with  the  wild  scenery  around  him.  He  wore  a 
bright  blue  hunting-shirt  trimmed  with  scarlet 
fringe  ;  a  gayly  colored  handkerchief  was  bound 
round  his  head  something  like  a  turban,  with  one 
end  hanging  down  beside  his  ear  ;  he  held  a  long 
rifle  in  his  hand,  and  looked  like  a  wild  Arab  on 
the  prowl.  Our  loquacious  and  ever-meddling 
little  Frenchman  called  out  to  him  in  his  Baby- 
lonish jargon,  but  the  savage  having  satisfied  his 
curiosity  tossed  his  hand  in  the  air,  turned  the 
head  of  his  steed,  and  galloping  along  the  shore 
soon  disappeared  among  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  III. 

An  Indian  Agency. — Riflemen. — Osages,  Creeks,  Trap- 
pers, Dogs,  Horses,  Hxlf-Drceds. — Dcatie,  the  Hunts- 
man. 

HAVING  crossed  the  ford,  we  soon  reached  the 
Osage  Agency,  where  Col.  Choteau  has  his  offices 
and  magazines,  for  the  dispatch  of  Indian  affairs, 
and  the  distribution  of  presents  and  supplies.  It 
consisted  of  a  few  log  houses  on  the  banks  of  the 
river,  and  presented  a  motley  frontier  scene. 
Here  was  our  escort  awaiting  our  arrival ;  some 
were  on  horseback,  some  on  foot,  some  seated 
on  the  trunks  of  fallen  trees,  some  shooting  at  a 
mark.  They  were  a  heterogeneous  crew ;  some 
in  frock-coats  made  of  green  blankets  ;  others  in 
leathern  hunting-shirts,  but  the  most  part  in 
marvellously  ill-cut  garments,  much  the  worse 
for  wear,  and  evidently  put  on  for  rugged  service. 
Near  by  these  was  a  group  of  Osages  :  stately 
fellows  ;  stern  and  simple  in  garb  and  aspect. 
They  wore  no  ornaments;  their  dress  consisted 
merely  of  blankets,  leggings,  and  moccasons. 
Their  heads  were  bare  ;  their  hair  was  cropped 
close,  excepting  a  bristling  ridge  on  the  top,  like 
the  crest  of  a  helmet,  with  a  long  scalp  lock  hang- 
ing behind.  They  had  fine  Roman  countenances, 
and  broad  deep  chests;  and,  as  they  generally 
wore  their  blankets  wrapped  round  their  loins,  so 
as  to  leave  the  bust  and  arms  bare,  they  locked 
like  so  many  noble  bronze  figures.  The  Osages 
are  the  finest  looking  Indians  I  have  ever  seen  in 
the  West.  They  have  not  yielded  sufficiently, 
as  yet,  to  the  influence  of  civilization  to  lay  by 
their  simple  Indian  garb,  or  to  lose  the  habits  of 
the  hunter  and  the  warrior ;  and  their  poverty 


440 


A  TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


prevents" their  indulging  in  much  luxury  of  ap- 
parel. 

In  contrast  to  these  was  a  gaily  dressed  party  of 
Creeks.  There  is  something,  at  the  first  glance, 
quite  oriental  in  the  appearance  of  this  tribe. 
They  dress  in  calico  hunting  shirts,  of  various 
brilliant  colors,  decorated  with  bright  fringes,  and 
belted  with  broad  girdles,  embroidered  with 
beads:  they  have  leggings  of  dressed  deer  skins, 
or  of  green  or  scarlet  cloth,  with  embroidered 
knee-bands  and  tassels:  their  moccasons  arc 
fancifully  wrought  and  ornamented,  and  they 
wear  gaudy  handkerchiefs  tastefully  bound  round 
their  heads. 

Besides  these,  there  was  a  sprinkling  of  trap- 
pers, hunters,  half-breeds,  Creoles,  negroes  of 
every  hue  ;  and  all  that  other  rabble  rout  of  non- 
descript beings  that  keep  about  the  frontiers,  be- 
tween civilized  and  savage  life,  as  those  equivocal 
birds,  the  bats,  hover  about  the  confines  of  light 
and  darkness. 

The  little  hamlet  of  the  Agency  was  in  a  com- 
plete bustle  ;  the  blacksmith's  shed,  in  particular, 
was  a  scene  of  preparation  ;  a  strapping  negro  was 
shoeing  a  horse  ;  two  half-breeds  were  fabricating 
iron  spoons  in  which  to  melt  lead  for  bullets.  An 
old  trapper,  in  leathern  hunting  frock  and  moc- 
casons, had  placed  his  rifle  against  a  work-bench, 
while  he  superintended  the  operation,  and  gos- 
siped about  his  hunting  exploits  ;  several  large 
dogs  were  lounging  in  and  out  of  the  shop,  or 
sleeping  in  the  sunshine,  while  a  little  cur,  with 
head  cocked  on  one  side,  and  one  ear  erect,  was 
watching,  with  that  curiosity  common  to  little 
dogs,  the  process  of  shoeing  the  horse,  as  if 
studying  the  art,  or  waiting  for  his  turn  to  be 
shod. 

We  found  the  Count  and  his  companion,  the 
Virtuoso,  ready  for  the  march.  As  they  intended 
to  overtake  the  Osages,  and  pass  some  time  in 
hunting  the  buffalo  and  the  wild  horse,  they  had 
provided  themselves  accordingly  ;  having,  in  ad- 
dition to  the  steeds  which  they  used  for  travelling, 
others  of  prime  quality,  which  were  to  be  led 
when  on  the  march,  and  only  to  be  mounted  for 
the  chase. 

They  had,  moreover,  engaged  the  services  of  a 
young  man  named  Antoinc,  a  half-breed  of 
French  and  Osage  origin.  He  was  to  be  a  kind 
of  Jack- of- all-work ;  to  cook,  to  hunt,  and  to 
take  care  of  the  horses ;  but  he  had  a  vehement 
propensity  to  do  nothing,  being  one  of  the  worth- 
less brood  engendered  and  brought  up  among  the 
missions.  He  was,  moreover,  a  little  spoiled  by 
being  really  a  handsome  young  fellow,  an  Adonis 
of  the  frontier,  and  still  worse  by  fancying  him- 
self highly  connected,  his  sister  being  concubine 
to  an  opulent  white  trader  ! 

For  our  own  parts,  the  Commissioner  and  my- 
self were  desirous,  before  setting  out,  to  procure 
another  attendant  well  versed  in  woodcraft,  who 
might  serve  us  as  a  hunter  ;  for  our  little  French- 
man would  have  his  hands  full  when  in  camp,  in 
cooking,  and  on  the  march,  in  taking  care  of  the 
pack-horses.  Such  an  one  presented  himself,  or 
rather  was  recommended  to  us,  in  Pierre  Beatte, 
a  half-breed  of  French  and  Osage  parentage. 
We  were  assured  that  he  was  acquainted  with  all 
parts  of  the  country,  having  traversed  it  in  all  di- 
rections, both  in  hunting  and  war  parties  ;  that 
he  would  be  of  use  both  as  guide  and  interpreter, 
and  that  he  was  a  first-rate  hunter. 

I  confess  I  did  not  like  his  looks  when  he  was 
first  presented  to  me.  He  was  lounging  about, 
in  an  old  hunting  frock  and  metasses  or  leggings, 


of  deer  skin,  soiled  and  greased,  and  almost 
japanned  by  constant  use.  He  was  apparently 
about  thirty-six  years  of  age,  square  and  strongly 
built.  His  features  were  not  bad,  being  shaped 
not  unlike  those  of  Napoleon,  but  sharpened  up, 
with  high  Indian  cheek  bones.  Perhaps  the 
dusky  greenish  hue  of  his  complexion,  aided  his 
resemblance  to  an  old  bronze  bust  I  had  seen  of 
the  Emperor.  He  had,  however,  a  sullen,  satur- 
nine expression,  set  off  by  a  slouched  woollen 
hat,  and  elf  locks  that  hung  about  his  ears. 

Such  was  the  appearance  of  the  man,  and  his 
manners  were  equally  unprepossessing.  He  was 
cold  and  laconic  ;  made  no  promises  or  profes- 
sions ;  stated  the  terms  he  required  for  the  ser- 
vices of  himself  and  his  horse,  which  we  thought 
rather  high,  but  showed  no  disposition  to  abate 
them,  nor  any  anxiety  to  secure  our  employ. 
He  had  altogether  more  of  the  red  than  the  white 
man  in  his  composition  ;  and,  as  I  had  been 
taught  to  look  upon  all  half-breeds  with  distrust, 
as  an  uncertain  and  faithless  race,  I  would  gladly 
have  dispensed  with  the  services  of  Pierre  Beatte. 
We  had  no  time,  however,  to  look  out  for  any  one 
more  to  our  taste,  and  had  to  make  an  arrange- 
ment with  him  on  the  spot.  He  then  set  about 
making  his  preparations  for  the  journey,  promis- 
ing to  join  us  at  our  evening's  encampment. 

One  thing  was  yet  Avanting  to  fit  me  out  for  the 
Prairies — a  thoroughly  trustworthy  steed:  I  was 
not  yet  mounted  to  my  mind.  The  gray  I  had 
bought,  though  strong  and  serviceable,  was  rough. 
At  the  last  moment  I  succeeded  in  getting  an  ex- 
cellent animal  ;  a  dark  bay  ;  powerful,  active, 
generous-spirited,  and  in  capital  condition.  I 
mounted  him  with  exultation,  and  transferred  the 
silver  gray  to  Tonish,  who  was  in  such  ecstasies 
at  finding  himself  so  completely^;/  Cavalier,  that 
I  feared  he  might  realize  the  ancient  and  well- 
known  proverb  of  "  a  beggar  on  horseback." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

"The  Departure. 

THE  long-drawn  notes  of  a  bugle  at  length  gave 
the  signal  for  departure.  The  rangers  filed  off  in 
a  straggling  line  of  march  through  the  woods: 
we  were  soon  on  horseback  and  following  on,  but 
were  detained  by  the  irregularity  of  the  pack- 
horses.  They  were  unaccustomed  to  keep  the 
line,  and  straggled  from  side  to  side  among  the 
thickets,  in  spite  of  all  the  pcsting  and  bedeviling 
of  Tonish  ;  who,  mounted  on  his  gallant  gray, 
with  a  long  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  worried  after 
them,  bestowing  a  superabundance  of  dry  blows 
and  curses. 

We  soon,  therefore,  lost  sight  of  our  escort,  but 
managed  to  keep  on  their  track,  thridding  lofty 
forests,  and  entangled  thickets,  and  passing  by 
Indian  wigwams  and  negro  huts,  until  toward 
dusk  we  arrived  at  a  frontier  farm-house,  owned 
by  a  settler  of  the  name  of  Berryhill.  It  was 
situated  on  a  hill,  below  which  the  rangers  had 
encamped  in  a  circular  grove,  on  the  margin  of  a 
stream.  The  master  of  the  house  received  us 
civilly,  but  could  offer  us  no  accommodation,  for 
sickness  prevailed  in  his  family.  He  appeared 
himself  to  be  in  no  very  thriving  condition,  for 
though  bulky  in  frame,  he  had  a  sallow,  un- 
healthy complexion,  and. a  whiffling  double  voice, 
shifting  abruptly  from  a  treble  to  a  thorough- 
bass. 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


441 


Finding  his  log  house  was  a  mere  hospital, 
crowded  with  invalids,  we  ordered  our  tent  to  be 
pitched  in  the  farm-yard. 

We  had  not  been  long  encamped,  when  our 
recently  engaged  attendant,  Beatte,  the  Osage 
half-breed,  made  his  appearance.  He  came 
mounted  on  one  horse  and  leading  another,  which 
seemed  to  be  well  packed  with  supplies  for  the 
expedition.  Beatte  was  evidently  an  "old  sol- 
dier," as  to  the  art  of  taking  care  of  himself  and 
looking  out  for  emergencies.  Finding  that  he  was 
in  government  employ,  being  engaged  by  the 
Commissioner,  he'had  drawn  rations  of  flour  and 
bacon,  and  put  them  up  so  as  to  be  weather- 
proof. In  addition  to  the  horse  for  the  road,  and 
for  ordinary  service,  which  was  a  rough,  hardy 
animal,  he  had  another  for  hunting.  This  was  of 
a  mixed  breed  like  himself,  being  a  cross  of  the 
domestic  stock  with  the  wild  horse  of  the  prairies  ; 
and  a  noble  steed  it  was,  of  generous  spirit,  fine 
action,  and  admirable  bottom.  He  had  taken 
care  to  have  his  horses  well  shod  at  the  Agency. 
He  came  prepared  at  all  points  for  war  or  hunt- 
ing :  his  rifle  on  his  shoulder,  his  powder-horn 
and  bullet-pouch  at  his  side,  his  hunting-knife 
stuck  in  his  belt,  and  coils  of  cordage  at  his  sad- 
dle bow,  which  we  were  told  were  lariats,  or 
noosed  cords,  used  in  catching  the  wild  horse. 

Thus  equipped  and  provided,  an  Indian  hunter 
on  a  prairie  is  like  a  cruiser  on  the  ocean,  per- 
fectly independent  of  the  world,  and  competent 
to  self-protection  and  self-maintenance.  He  can 
cast  himself  loose  from  every  one,  shape  his  own 
course,  and  take  care  of  his  own  fortunes.  I 
thought  Beatte  seemed  to  feel  his  independence, 
and  to  consider  himself  superior  to  us  all,  now 
that  we  were  launching  into  the  wilderness.  He 
maintained  a  half  proud,  half  sullen  look,  and 
great  taciturnity,  and  his  first  care  was  to  unpack 
his  horses  and  put  them  in  safe  quarters  for  the 
night.  His  whole  demeanor  was  in  perfect  con- 
trast to  our  vaporing,  chattering,  bustling  little 
Frenchman.  The  latter,  too,  seemed  jealous  of 
this  new-comer.  He  whispered  to  us  that  these 
half-breeds  were  a  touchy,  capricious  people,  lit- 
tle to  be  depended  upon.  That  Beatte  had  evi- 
dently come  prepared  to  take  care  of  himself, 
and  that,  at  any  moment  in  the  course  of  our 
tour,  he  would  be  liable  to  take  some  sudden  dis- 
gust or  affront,  and  abandon  us  at  a  moment's 
warning:  having  the  means  of  shifting  for  him- 
self, and  being  perfectly  at  home  on  the  prairies. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Frontier  Scenes. — A  Lycurgus  of  the  Border. — Lynch' s 
Law. —  The  Danger  of  Finding  a  Horse. — The  'Young 
Osage. 

ON  the  following  morning  (October  n),  we  were 
on  the  march  by  half-past  seven  o'clock,  and  rode 
through  deep  rich  bottoms  of  alluvial  soil,  over- 
grown with  redundant  vegetation,  and  trees  of  an 
enormous  size.  Our  route  lay  parallel  to  the 
west  bank  of  the  Arkansas,  on  the  borders  of 
which  river,  near  the  confluence  of  the  Red  Fork, 
we  expected  to  overtake  the  main  body  of  ran- 
gers. For  some  miles  the  country  was  sprinkled 
with  Creek  villages  and  farm-houses;  the  inhabi- 
tants of  which  appeared  to  have  adopted,  with 
considerable  facility,  the  rudiments  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  to  have  thriven  in  consequence.  Their 
farms  were  well  stocked,  and  their  houses  had  a 
look  of  comfort  and  abundance. 


We  met  with  numbers  of  them  returning  from 
one  of  their  grand  games  of  ball,  for  which  their 
nation  is  celebrated.  Some  were  on  foot,  some 
on  horseback  ;  the  latter,  occasionally,  with  gay- 
ly  dressed  females  behind  them.  They  are  a 
well-made  race,  muscular  and  closely  knit,  with 
well-turned  thighs  and  legs.  They  have  a  gypsy 
fondness  for  brilliant  colors  and  gay  decorations, 
and  are  bright  and  fanciful  objects  when  seen  at 
a  distance  on  the  prairies.  One  had  a  scarlet 
handkerchief  bound  round  his  head,  surmounted 
with  a  tuft  of  black  feathers  like  a  cocktail.  An- 
other had  a  white  handkerchief,  with  red  feathers; 
while  a  third,  for  want  of  a  plume,  had  stuck  in 
his  turban  a  brilliant  bunch  of  sumach. 

On  the  verge  of  the  wilderness  we  paused  to 
inquire  our  way  at  a  log  house,  owned  by  a  white 
settler  or  squatter,  a  tall  raw-boned  old  fellow, 
with  red  hair,  a  lank  lantern  visage,  and  an  invet- 
erate habit  of  winking  with  one  eye,  as  if  every- 
thing he  said  was  of  knowing  import.  He  was  in 
a  towering  passion.  One  of  his  horses  was  miss- 
ing ;  he  was  sure  it  had  been  stolen  in  the  night 
by  a  straggling  party  of  Osages  encamped  in  a 
neighboring  swamp  ;  but  he  would  have  satisfac- 
tion !  He  would  make  an  example  of  the  vil- 
lains. He  had  accordingly  caught  down  his  rifle 
from  the  wall,  that  invariable  enforcer  of  right  or 
wrong  upon  the  frontiers,  and,  having  saddled  his 
steed,  was  about  to  sally  forth  on  a  foray  into  the 
swamp  ;  while  a  brother  squatter,  with  rifle  in 
hand,  stood  ready  to  accompany  him. 

We  endeavored  to  calm  the  old  campaigner  of 
the  prairies,  by  suggesting  that  his  horse  might 
have  strayed  into  the  neighboring  woods  ;  but  he 
had  the  frontier  propensity  to  charge  everything 
to  the  Indians,  and  nothing  could  dissuade  him 
from  carrying  fire  and  sword  into  the  swamp. 

After  riding  a  few  miles  farther  we  lost  the 
trail  of  the  main  body  of  rangers,  and  became 
perplexed  by  a  variety  of  tracks  made  by  the  In- 
dians and  settlers.  At  length  coming  to  a  log 
house,  inhabited  by  a  white  man,  the  very  last  on 
the  frontier,  we  found  that  we  had  wandered  from 
our  true  course.  Taking  us  back  for  some  dis- 
tance, he  again  brought  us  to  the  right  trail  ; 
putting  ourselves  upon  which,  we  took  our  final 
departure,  and  launched  into  the  broad  wilder- 
ness. 

The  trail  kept  on  like  a  straggling  footpath, 
over  hill  and  dale,  through  brush  and  brake,  and 
tangled  thicket,  and  open  prairie.  In  traversing 
the  wilds  it  is  customary  for  a  party  either  of 
horse  or  foot  to  follow  each  other  in  single  file 
like  the  Indians  ;  so  that  the  leaders  break  the 
way  for  those  who  follow,  and  lessen  their  labor 
and  fatigue.  In  this  way,  also,  the  number  of  a 
party  is  concealed,  the  whole  leaving  but  one 
narrow  well-trampled  track  to  mark  their  course. 

We  had  not  long  regained  the  trail,  when,  on 
emerging  from  a  forest,  we  beheld  our  raw-boned, 
hard-winking,  hard-riding  knight-errant  of  the 
frontier,  descending  the  slope  of  a  hill,  followed 
by  his  companion  in  arms.  As  he  drew  near  to 
us,  the  gauntness  of  his  figure  and  ruefulness  of 
his  aspect  reminded  me  of  the  description  of  the 
hero  of  La  Mancha,  and  he  was  equally  bent  on 
affairs  of  doughty  enterprise,  being  about  to  pene- 
trate the  thickets  of  the  perilous  swamp,  within 
which  the  enemy  lay  ensconced. 

While  we  were  holding  a  parley  with  him  on 
the  slope  of  the  hill,  we  descried  an  Osage  on 
horseback  issuing  out  of  a  skirt  of  wood  about 
half  a  mile  off,  and  leading  a  horse  by  a  halter. 
The  latter  was  immediately  recognized  by  our 


442 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


hard-winking  friend  as  the  steed  of  which  he  was 
in  quest.  As  the  Osage  drew  near,  I  was  struck 
with  his  appearance.  He  was  about  nineteen  or 
twenty  years  of  age,  but  well  grown,  with  the  fine 
Roman  countenance  common  to  his  tribe,  and  as 
he  rode  with  his  blanket  wrapped  round  his  loins, 
his  naked  bust  would  have  furnished  a  model  for 
a  statuary.  He  was  mounted  on  a  beautiful  pie- 
bald horse,  a  mottled  white  and  brown,  of  the 
wild  breed  of  the  prairies,  decorated  with  a  broad 
collar,  from  which  hung  in  front  a  tuft  of  horse- 
hair dyed  of  a  bright  scarlet. 

The  youth  rode  slowly  up  to  us  with  a  frank 
open  air,  and  signified  by  means  of  our  interpreter 
Beatte,  that  the  horse  he  was  leading  had  wan- 
dered to  their  camp,  and  he  was  now  on  his  way 
to  conduct  him  back  to  his  owner. 

I  had  expected  to  witness  an  expression  of 
gratitude  on  the  part  of  our  hard-favored  cavalier, 
but  to  my  surprise  the  old  fellow  broke  out  into  a 
furious  passion.  He  declared  that  the  Indians 
had  carried  off  his  horse  in  the  night,  with  the 
intention  of  bringing  him  home  in  the  morning, 
and  claiming  a  reward  for  finding  him  ;  a  com- 
mon practice,  as  he  affirmed,  among  the  Indians. 
He  was,  therefore,  for  tying  the  young  Indian  to 
a  tree  and  giving  him  a  sound  lashing  ;  and  was 
•quite  surprised  at  the  burst  of  indignation  which 
this  novel  mode  of  requiting  a  service  drew  from 
us.  Such,  however,  is  too  often  the  administra- 
tion of  law  on  the  frontier,  "  Lynch's  law,"  as  it  is 
technically  termed,  in  which  the  plaintiff  is  apt  to 
be  witness,  jury,  judge,  and  executioner,  and  the 
defendant  to  be  convicted  and  punished  on  mere 
presumption  ;  and  in  this  way,  I  am  convinced, 
are  occasioned  many  of  those  heart-burnings  and 
resentments  among  the  Indians,  which  lead  to 
retaliation,  and  end  in  Indian  wars.  When  I 
compared  the  open,  noble  countenance  and  frank 
demeanor  of  the  young  Osage,  with  the  sinister  vis- 
age and  high-handed  conduct  of  the  frontiersman, 
I  felt  little  doubt  on  whose  back  a  lash  would  be 
most  meritoriously  bestowed. 

Being  thus  obliged  to  content  himself  with  the 
recovery  of  his  horse,  without  the  pleasure  of 
flogging  the  finder  into  the  bargain,  the  old  Lycur- 
gus,  or  rather  Draco,  of  the  frontier,  set  off  growl- 
ing on  his  return  homeward,  followed  by  his 
brother  squatter. 

As  for  the  youthful  Osage,  we  were  all  prepos- 
sessed in  his  favor ;  the  young  Count  especially, 
with  the  sympathies  proper  to  his  age  and  inci- 
dent to  his  character,  had  taken  quite  a  fancy  to 
him.  Nothing  would  suit  but  he  must  have  the 
young  Osage  as  a  companion  and  squire  in  his 
expedition  into  the  wilderness.  The  youth  was 
easily  tempted,  and,  with  the  prospect  of  a  safe 
range  over  the  buffalo  prairies  and  the  promise  of 
a  new  blanket,  he  turned  his  bridle,  left  the 
swamp  and  the  encampment  of  his  friends  behind 
him,  and  set  off  to  follow  the  Count  in  his  wander- 
ings in  quest  of  the  Osage  hunters. 

Such  is  the  glorious  independence  of  man  in  a 
savage  state.  This  youth,  with  his  rifle,  his  blan- 
ket, and  his  horse,  was  ready  at  a  moment's  warn- 
ing to  rove  the  world  ;  he  carried  all  his  worldly 
effects  with  him,  and  in  the  absence  of  artificial 
wants,  possessed  the  great  secret  of  personal 
freedom.  We  of  society  are  slaves,  not  so  much 
to  others  as  to  ourselves  ;  our  superfluities  are  the 
chains  that  bind  us,  impeding  every  movement 
of  our  bodies  and  thwarting  every  impulse  of  our 
souls.  Such,  at  least,  were  my  speculations  at 
the  time,  though  I  am  not  sure  but  that  they  took 
their  tone  from  the  enthusiasm  of  the  young 


Count,  who  seemed  more  enchanted  than  ever 
with  the  wild  chivalry  of  the  prairies,  and  talked 
of  putting  on  the  Indian  dress  and  adopting  the 
Indian  habits  during  the  time  he  hoped  to  pass 
with  the  Osages. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Trail  of  the  Osage  Hunters. — Departure  of  the  Count  and 
his  Party. — A  Deserted  War  Camp. — A  Vagrant  Dog. 
—  The  Encampment. 

IN  the  course  of  the  morning  the  trail  we  were 
pursuing  was  crossed  by  another,  which  struck  off 
through  the  forest  to  the  west  in  a  direct  course 
for  the  Arkansas  River.  Beatte,  our  half-breed, 
after  considering  it  for  a  moment,  pronounced  it 
the  trail  of  the  Osage  hunters  ;  and  that  it  must 
lead  to  the  place  where  they  had  forded  the  river 
on  their  way  to  the  hunting  grounds. 

Here  then  the  young  Count  and  his  companion 
came  to  a  halt  and  prepared  to  take  leave  ol  us. 
The  most  experienced  frontiersmen  in  the  troop 
remonstrated  on  the  hazard  of  the  undertaking. 
They  were  about  to  throw  themselves  loose  in  the 
wilderness,  with  no  other  guides,  guards,  or  at- 
tendants, than  a  young  ignorant  half-breed,  and 
a  still  younger  Indian.  They  were  embarrassed 
by  a  pack-horse  and  two  led  horses,  with  which 
they  would  have  to  make  their  way  through  mat- 
ted forests,  and  across  rivers  and  morasses.  The 
Osages  and  Pawnees  were  at  war,  and  they  might 
fall  in  with  some  warrior  party  of  the  latter,  who 
are  ferocious  foes  ;  besides, -their  small  number, 
and  their  valuable  horses  would  form  a  great 
temptation  to  some  of  the  straggling  bands  of 
Osages  loitering  about  the  frontier,  who  might  rob 
them  of  their  horses  in  the  night,  and  leave  them 
destitute  and  on  foot  in  the  midst  of  the  prairies. 

Nothing,  however,  could  restrain  the  romantic 
ardor  of  the  Count  for  a  campaign  of  buffalo  hunt- 
ing with  the  Osages,  and  he  had  a  game  spirit 
that  seemed  always  stimulated  by  the  idea  of 
danger.  His  travelling  companion,  of  discreeter 
age  and  calmer  temperament,  was  convinced  of 
the  rashness  of  the  enterprise  ;  but  he  could  not 
control  the  impetuous  zeal  of  his  youthful  friend, 
and  he  was  too  loyal  to  leave  him  to  pursue  his 
hazardous  scheme  alone.  To  our  great  regret, 
therefore,  we  saw  them  abandon  the  protection 
of  our  escort,  and  strike  off  on  their  hap-hazard 
expedition.  The  old  hunters  of  our  party  shook 
their  heads,  and  our  half-breed,  Beatte,  pre- 
dicted all  kinds  of  trouble  to  them  ;  my  only  hope 
was,  that  they  would  soon  meet  with  perplexities 
enough  to  cool  the  impetuosity  of  the  young 
Count,  and  induce  him  to  rejoin  us.  With  this 
idea  we  travelled  slowly,  and  made  a  considerable 
halt  at  noon.  After  resuming  our  march,  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  Arkansas.  It  presented  a 
broad  and  rapid  stream,  bordered  by  a  beach  of 
fine  sand,  overgrown  with  willows  and  cotton- 
wood  trees.  Beyond  the  river,  the  eye  wandered 
over  a  beautiful  champaign  country,  of  flowery 
plains  and  sloping  uplands,  diversified  by  groves 
and  clumps  of  trees,  and  long  screens  of  wood- 
land ;  the  whole  wearing  the  aspect  of  complete, 
and  even  ornamental  cultivation,  instead  of  na- 
tive wildhess.  Not  far  from  the  river,  on  an  open 
eminence,  we  passed  through  the  recently  de- 
serted camping  place  of  an  Osage  war  party. 
The  frames  of  the  tents  or  wigwams  remained, 
consisting  of  poles  bent  into  an  arch,  with  each 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


443 


end  stuck  into  the  ground  :  these  are  interwined 
with  twigs  and  branches,  and  covered  with  bark 
and  skins.  Those  experienced  in  Indian  lore, 
can  ascertain  the  tribe,  and  whether  on  a  hunting 
or  a  warlike  expedition,  by  the  shape  and  dispo- 
sition of  the  wigwams.  Beatte  pointed  out  to  us, 
in  the  present  skeleton  camp,  the  wigwam  in 
which  the  chiefs  had  held  their  consultations 
around  the  council-fare  ;  and  an  open  area,  well 
trampled  down,  on  which  the  grand  war-dance 
had  been  performed. 

Pursuing  our  journey,  as  we  were  passing 
through  a  forest,  we  were  met  by  a  forlorn,  half- 
famished  dog,  who  came  rambling  along  the  trail, 
with  inflamed  eyes,  and  bewildered  look.  Though 
nearly  trampled  upon  by  the  foremost  rangers,  he 
took  notice  of  no  one,  but  rambled  heedlessly 
among  the  horses.  The  cry  of  "  mad  dog"  was 
immediately  raised,  and  one  of  the  rangers  levelled 
his  rifle,  but  was  stayed  by  the  ever-ready  hu- 
manity of  the  Commissioner.  "He  is  blind!" 
said  he.  "  It  is  the  dog  of  some  poor  Indian,  fol- 
lowing his  master  by  the  scent.  It  would  be  a 
shame  to  kill  so  faithful  an-  animal."  The  ranger 
shouldered  his  rifle,  the  dog  blundered  blindly 
through  the  cavalcade  unhurt,  and  keeping  his 
nose  to  the  ground,  continued  his  course  along 
the  trail,  affording  a  rare  instance  of  a  dog  sur- 
viving a  bad  name. 

About  three  o'clock,  we  came  to  a  recent 
camping-place  of  the  company  of  rangers  :  the 
brands  of  one  of  their  fires  were  still  smoking; 
so  that,  according  to  the  opinion  of  Beatte,  they 
could  not  have  passed  on  above  a  day  previously. 
As  there  was  a  fine  stream  of  water  close  by,  and 
plenty  of  pea-vines  for  the  horses,  we  encamped 
here  for  the  night. 

We  had  not  been  here  long,  when  we  heard  a 
halloo  from  a  distance,  and  beheld  the  young 
Count  and  his  party  advancing  through  the  forest. 
We  welcomed  them  to  the  camp  with  heartfelt 
satisfaction  ;  for  their  departure  upon  so  hazard- 
ous an  expedition  had  caused  us  great  uneasiness. 
A  short  experiment  had  convinced  them  of  the 
toil  and  difficulty  of  inexperienced  travellers  like 
themselves  making  their  way  through  the  wilder- 
ness with  such  a  train  of  horses,  and  such  slender 
attendance.  Fortunately,  they  determined  to  re- 
join us  before  nightfall  ;  one  night's  camping  out 
might  have  cost  them  their  horses.  The  Count 
had  prevailed  upon  his  protege  and  esquire,  the 
young  Osage,  to  continue  with  him,  and  still  cal- 
culated upon  achieving  great  exploits,  with  his  as- 
sistance, on  the  buffalo  prairies. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

News  of  the  Rangers.  —  The  Count  and  his  Indian  Squire. — 
Halt  in  the  Woods. —  Woodland  Scene. — Osage  Village. 
— Osage  Visitors  at  our  Evening  Camp. 

IN  the  morning  early  (October  I2th),  the  two 
Creeks  who  had  been  sent  express  by  the  com- 
mander of  Fort  Gibson,  to  stop  the  company  of 
rangers,  arrived  at  our  encampment  on  their 
return.  They  had  left  the  company  encamped 
about  fifty  miles  distant,  in  a  fine  place  on  the 
Arkansas,  abounding  in  game,  where  they  in- 
tended to  await  our  arrival.  This  news  spread  an- 
imation throughout  our  party,  and  we  set  out  on 
our  march  at  sunrise>  with  renewed  spirit. 

In  mounting  our  steeds,  the  young  Osage  at- 
tempted to  throw  a  blanket  upon  his  wild  horse. 


The  fine,  sensible  animal  took  fright,  reared  and 
recoiled.  The  attitudes  of  the  wild  horse  and  the 
almost  naked  savage,  would  have  formed  studies 
for  a  painter  or  a  statuary. 

I  often  pleased  myself  in  the  course  of  our 
march,  with  noticing  the  appearance  of  the  young 
Count  and  his  newly  enlisted  follower,  as  they 
rode  before  me.  Never  was  preux  chevalier  bet- 
ter suited  with  an  esquire.  The  Count  was  well 
mounted,  and,  as  I  have  before  observed,  was  a 
bold  and  graceful  rider.  He  was  fond,  too,  of 
caracoling  his  horse,  and  dashing  about  in  the 
buoyancy  of  youthful  spirits.  His  dress  was  a 
gay  Indian  hunting  frock  of  dressed  deer  skin, 
setting  well  to  the  shape,  dyed  of  a  beautiful 
purple,  and  fancifully  embroidered  with  silks  of 
various  colors  ;  as  if  it  had  been  the  work  of  some 
Indian  beauty,  to  decorate  a  favorite  chief.  With 
this  he  wore  leathern  pantaloons  and  moccasons, 
a  foraging  cap,  and  a  double-barrelled  gun  slung 
by  a  bandoleer  athwart  his  back  :  so  that  he  was 
quite  a  picturesque  figure  as  he  managed  grace- 
fully his  spirited  steed. 

The  young  Osage  would  ride  close  behind  him 
on  his  wild  and  beautifully  mottled  horse,  which 
was  decorated  with  crimson  tufts  of  hair.  He 
rode  with  his  finely  shaped  head  and  bust  naked; 
his  blanket  being  girt  round  his  waist.  He  car- 
ried his  rifle  in  one  hand,  and  managed  his  horse 
with  the  other,  and  seemed  ready  to  dash  off  at  a 
moment's  warning,  with  his  youthful  leader,  on 
any  madcap  foray  or  scamper.  The  Count,  with 
the  sanguine  anticipations  of  youth,  promised 
himself  many  hardy  adventures  and  exploits  in 
company  with  his  youthful  "  brave,"  when  we 
should  get  among  the  buffaloes,  in  the  Pawnee 
hunting  grounds. 

After  riding  some  distance,  we  crossed  a  nar- 
row, deep  stream,  upon  a  solid  bridge,  the  re- 
mains of  an  old  beaver  dam ;  the  industrious 
community  which  had  constructed  it  had  all  been 
destroyed.  Above  us,  a  streaming  flight  of  wild 
geese,  high  in  the  air,  and  making  a  vociferous 
noise,  gave  note  of  the  waning  year. 

About  half  past  ten  o'clock  we  made  a  halt  in 
a  forest,  where  there  was  abundance  of  the  pea- 
vine.  Here  we  turned  the  horses  loose  to  graze. 
A  fire  was  made,  water  procured  from  an  adja- 
cent spring,  and  in  a  short  time  our  little  French- 
man, Tonish,  had  a  pot  of  coffee  prepared  for 
our  refreshment.  While  partaking  of  it,  we  were 
joined  by  an  old  Osage,  one  of  a  small  hunting 
party  who  had  recently  passed  this  way.  He 
was  in  search  of  his  horse,  which  had  wandered 
away,  or  been  stolen.  Our  half-breed,  Beatte, 
made  a  wry  face  on  hearing  of  Osage  hunters  in 
this  direction.  "  Until  we  pass  those  hunters," 
said  he,  "we  shall  see  no  buffaloes.  They 
frighten  away  every  thing,  like  a  prairie  on  fire." 

The  morning  repast  being  over,  the  party 
amused  themselves  in  various  ways.  Some  shot 
with  their  rifles  at  a  mark,  others  lay  asleep  half 
buried  in  the  deep  bed  of  foliage,  with  their  heads 
resting  on  their  saddles  ;  others  gossiped  round 
the  fire  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  which  sent  up  wreaths 
of  blue  smoke  among  the  branches.  The  horses 
banqueted  luxuriously  on  the  pea-vines,  and  some 
lay  down  and  rolled  amongst  them. 

We  were  overshadowed  by  lofty  trees,  with 
straight,  smooth  trunks,  like  stately  columns ; 
and  as  the  glancing  rays  of  the  sun  shone  through 
the  transparent  leaves,  tinted  with  the  many- 
colored  hues  of  autumn,  I  was  reminded  of  the 
effect  of  sunshine  among  the  stained  windows  and 
clustering  columns  of  a  Gothic  cathedral.  In- 


444 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


deed  there  is  a  grandeur  and  solemnity  in  our 
spacious  forests  of  the  West,  that  awaken  in  me 
the  same  feeling  I  have  experienced  in  those  vast 
and  venerable  piles,  and  the  sound  of  the  wind 
sweeping  through  them,  supplies  occasionally  the 
deep  breathings  of  the  organ. 

About  noon  the  bugle  sounded  to  horse,  and 
we  were  again  on  the  march,  hoping  to  arrive  at 
the  encampment  of  the  rangers  before  night  ;  as 
the  old  Osage  had  assured  us  it  was  not  above 
ten  or  twelve  miles  distant.  In  our  course  through 
a  forest,  we  passed  by  a  lonely  pool,  covered  with 
the  most  magnificent  water-lilies  I  had  ever  be- 
held ;  among  which  swam  several  wood-ducks, 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  water-fowl,  remark- 
able for  the  gracefulness  and  brilliancy  of  its 
plumage. 

After  proceeding  some  distance  farther,  we 
came  down  upon  the  banks  of  the  Arkansas,  at  a 
place  where  tracks  of  numerous  horses,  all  en- 
tering the  water,  showed  where  a  party  of  Osage 
hunters  had  recently  crossed  the  river  on  their 
way  to  the  buffalo  range.  After  letting  our  horses 
drink  in  the  river,  we  continued  along  its  bank 
for  a  space,  and  then  across  prairies,  where  we 
saw  a  distant  smoke,  which  we  hoped  might  pro- 
ceed from  the  encampment  of  the  rangers.  Fol- 
lowing what  we  supposed  to  be  their  trail,  we 
came  to  a  meadow  in  which  were  a  number  of 
horses  grazing :  they  were  not,  however,  the 
horses  of  the  troop.  A  little  farther  on,  we 
reached  a  straggling  Osage  village,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Arkansas.  Our  arrival  created  quite  a 
sensation.  A  number  of  old  men  came  forward 
and  shook  hands  with  us  all  severally  ;  while  the 
women  and  children  huddled  together  in  groups, 
staring  at  us  wildly,  chattering  and  laughing 
among  themselves.  We  found  that  all  the  young 
men  of  the  village  had  departed  on  a  hunting  ex- 
pedition, leaving  the  women  and  children  and  old 
men  behind.  Here  the  Commissioner  made  a 
speech  from  on  horseback  ;  informing  his  hearers 
of  the  purport  of  his  mission,  to  promote  a  general 
peace  among  the  tribes  of  the  West,  and  urging 
them  to  lay  aside  all  warlike  and  bloodthirsty 
notions,  and  'not  to  make  any  wanton  attacks 
upon  the  Pawnees.  This  speech  being  interpreted 
by  Beatte,  seemed  to  have  a  most  pacifying  effect 
upon  the  multitude,  who  promised  faithfully  that, 
as  far  as  in  them  lay,  the  peace  should  not  be 
disturbed  ;  and  indeed  their  age  and  sex  gave 
some  reason  to  trust  that  they  would  keep  their 
word. 

Still  hoping  to  reach  the  camp  of  the  rangers 
before  nightfall,  we  pushed  on  until  twilight,  when 
we  were  obliged  to  halt  on  the  borders  of  a  ravine. 
The  rangers  bivouacked  under  trees,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  dell,  while  we  pitched  our  tent  on  a 
rocky  knoll  near  a  running  stream.  The  night 
came  on  dark  and  overcast,  with  flying  clouds, 
and  much  appearance  of  rain.  The  fires  of  the 
rangers  burnt  brightly  in  the  dell,  and  threw 
strong  masses  of  light  upon  the  robber-looking 
groups  that  were  cooking,  eating,  and  drinking 
around  them.  To  add  to  the  wildness  of  the 
scene,  several  Osage  Indians,  visitors  from  the 
village  we  had  passed,  were  mingled  among  the 
men.  Three  of  them  came  and  seated  themselves 
by  our  fire.  They  watched  every  thing  that  was 
going  on  around  them  in  silence,  and  looked  like 
figures  of  monumental  bronze.  We  gave  them 
food,  and,  what  they  most  relished,  coffee ;  for 
the  Indians  partake  in  the  universal  fondness  for 
this  beverage,  which  pervades  the  West.  When 
they  had  made  their  supper,  they  stretched  them- 


selves, side  by  side,  before  the  fire,  and  began  a 
low  nasal  chant,  drumming  with  their  hands  upon 
their  breasts,  by  way  of  accompaniment.  Their 
chant  seemed  to  consist  of  regular  staves,  every 
one  terminating,  not  in  a  melodious  cadence,  but 
in  the  abrupt  interjection  huh  !  uttered  almost 
like  a  hiccup.  This  chant,  we  were  told  by  our 
interpreter,  Beatte,  related  to  ourselves,  our  ap- 
pearance, our  treatment  of  them,  and  all  that 
they  knew  of  our  plans.  In  one  part  they  spoke 
of  the  young  Count,  whose  animated  character 
and  eagerness  for  Indian  enterprise  had  struck 
their  fancy,  and  they  indulged  in  some  waggery 
about  him  and  the  young  Indian  beauties,  that 
produced  great  merriment  among  our  half-breeds. 

This  mode  of  improvising  is  common  through- 
out the  savage  tribes  ;  and  in  this  way,  with  a 
few  simple  inflections  of  the  voice,  they  chant  all 
their  exploits  in  war  and  hunting,  and  occasion- 
ally indulge  in  a  vein  of  comic  humor  and  dry 
satire,  to  which  the  Indians  appear  to  me  much 
more  prone  than  is  generally  imagined. 

In  fact,  the  Indians  that  I  have  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  in  real  life  are  quite  different 
from  those  described  in  poetry.  They  are  by  no 
means  the  stoics  that  they  are  represented  ;  taci- 
turn, unbending,  without  a  tear  or  a  smile.  Taci- 
turn they  are,  it  is  true,  when  in  company  with 
white  men,  whose  good-will  they  distrust,  and 
whose  language  they  do  not  understand  ;  but  the 
white  man  is  equally  taciturn  under  like  circum- 
stances. When  the  Indians  are  among  them- 
selves, however,  there  cannot  be  greater  gossips. 
Half  their  time  is  taken  up  in  talking  over  their 
adventures  in  war  and  hunting,  and  in  telling 
whimsical  stories.  They  are  great  mimics  and 
buffoons,  also,  and  entertain  themselves  exces- 
sively at  the  expense  of  the  whites  with  whom 
they  have  associated,  and  who  have  supposed 
them  impressed  with  profound  respect  for  their 
grandeur  and  dignity.  They  are  curious  ob- 
servers, noting  every  thing  in  silence,  but  with  a 
keen  and  watchful  eye  ;  occasionally  exchanging 
a  glance  or  a  grunt  with  eauh  other,  when  any 
thing  particularly  strikes  them  :  but  reserving  all 
comments  until  they  are  alone.  Then  it  is  that 
they  give  full  scope  to  criticism,  satire,  mimicry, 
and  mirth. 

In  the  course  of  my  journey  along  the  frontier, 
I  have  had  repeated  opportunities  of  noticing 
their  excitability  and  boisterous  merriment  at 
their  games  ;  and  have  occasionally  noticed  a 
group  of  Osages  sitting  round  a  fire  until  a  late 
hour  of  the  night,  engaged  in  the  most  animated 
and  lively  conversation  ;  and  at  times  making  the 
woods  resound  with  peals  of  laughter.  As  to 
tears,  they  have  them  in  abundance,  both  real 
and  affected  ;  at  times  they  make  a  merit  of  them. 
No  one  weeps  more  bitterly  or  profusely  at  the 
death  of  a  relative  or  friend  :  and  they  have  stated 
times  when  they  repair  to  howl  and  lament  at 
their  graves.  I  have  heard  doleful  wailings  at 
daybreak,  in  the  neighboring  Indian  villages, 
made  by  some  of  the  inhabitants,  who  go  out  at 
that  hour  into  the  fields,  to  mourn  and  weep  for 
the  dead  :  at  such  times,  I  am  told,  the  tears  will 
stream  down  their  cheeks  in  torrents. 

As  far  as  I  can  judge,  the  Indian  of  poetical 
fiction  is  like  the  shepherd  of  pastoral  romance, 
a  mere  personification  of  imaginary  attributes. 

The  nasal  chant  of  our  Osage  guests  gradually 
died  away;  they  covered  their  heads  with  their 
blankets  and  fell  fast  asleep,  and  in  a  little  while 
all  was  silent,  excepting  the  pattering  of  scattered 
rain-drops  upon  our  tent. 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


445 


In  the  morning  our  Indian  visitors  breakfasted 
with  us,  but  the  young  Osage  who  was  to  act  as 
esquire  to  the  Count  in  his  knight-errantry  on  the 
prairies,  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  His  wild 
horse,  too,  was  missing,  and,  after  many  con- 
jectures, we  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had 
taken  "Indian  leave  "  of  us  in  the  night.  We 
afterwards  ascertained  that  he  had  been  per- 
suaded so  to  do  by  the  Osages  we  had  recently 
met  with  ;  who  had  represented  to  him  the  perils 
that  would  attend  him  in  an  expedition  to  the 
Pawnee  hunting  grounds,  where  he  might  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  implacable  enemies  of  his  tribe  ; 
and,  what  was  scarcely  less  to  be  apprehended, 
the  annoyances  to  which  he  would  be  subjected 
from  the  capricious  and  overbearing  conduct  of 
the  white  men  ;  who,  as  I  have  witnessed  in  my 
own  short  experience,  are  prone  to  treat  the  poor 
Indians  as  little  better  than  brute  animals.  In- 
deed, he  had  had  a  specimen  of  it  himself  in  the 
narrow  escape  he  made  from  the  infliction  of 
"  Lynch's  law,"  by  the  hard-winking  worthy  of 
the  frontier,  for  the  flagitious  crime  of  finding  a 
stray  horse. 

The  disappearance  of  the  youth  was  generally 
regretted  by  our  party,  for  we  had  all  taken  a 
great  fancy  to  him  from  his  handsome,  frank, 
and  manly  appearance,  and  the  easy  grace  of  his 
deportment.  He  was  indeed  a  native-born  gen- 
tleman. By  none,  however,  was  he  so  much  la- 
mented as  by  the  young  Count,  who  thus  sud- 
denly found  himself  deprived  of  his  esquire.  I 
regretted  the  departure  of  the  Osage  for  his  own 
sake,  for  we  should  have  cherished  him  through- 
out the  expedition,  and  I  am  convinced,  from  the 
munificent  spirit  of  his  patron,  he  would  have  re- 
turned to  his  tribe  laden  with  wealth  of  beads  and 
trinkets  and  Indian  blankets. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Honey  Camp. 

THE  weather,  which  had  been  rainy  in  the  night, 
having  held  up,  we  resumed  our  march  at  seven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  confident  hope  of  soon 
arriving  at  the  encampment  of  the  rangers.  We 
had  not  ridden  above  three  or  four  miles  when  we 
came  to  a  large  tree  which  had  recently  been 
felled  by  an  axe,  for  the  wild  honey  contained  in 
the  hollow  of  its  trunk,  several  broken  flakes  of 
which  still  remained.  We  now  felt  sure  that  the 
camp  could  not  be  far  distant.  About  a  couple 
of  miles  further  some  of  the  rangers  set  up  a 
shout,  and  pointed  to  a  number  of  horses  grazing 
in  a  woody  bottom.  A  few  paces  brought  us  to 
the  brow  of  an  elevated  ridge,  whence  we  looked 
down  upon  the  encampment.  It  was  a  wild  ban- 
dit, or  Robin  Hood,  scene.  In  a  beautiful  open 
forest,  traversed  by  a  running  stream,  were 
booths  of  bark  and  branches,  and  tents  of  blan- 
kets, temporary  shelters  from  the  recent  rain, 
for  the  rangers  commonly  bivouac  in  the  open 
air.  There  were  groups  of  rangers  in  every  kind 
of  uncouth  garb.  Some  were  cooking  at  large 
fires  made  at  the  feet  of  trees;  some  were  stretch- 
ing and  dressing  deer  skins  ;  some  were  shooting 
at  a  mark,  and  some  lying  about  on  the  grass. 
Venison  jerked,  and  hung  on  frames,  was  drying 
over  the  embers  in  one  place  ;  in  another  lay  car- 
casses recently  brought  in  by  the  hunters.  Stacks 
of  rifles  were  leaning  against  the  trunks  of  the 
trees,  and  saddles,  bridles,  and  powder-horns 


hanging  above  them,  while  the  horses  were  graz- 
ing here  and  there  among  the  thickets. 

Our  arrival  was  greeted  with  acclamation.  The 
rangers  crowded  about  their  comrades  to  inquire 
the  news  from  the  fort ;  for  our  own  part,  we 
were  received  in  frank  simple  hunter's  style  by 
Captain  Bean,  the  commander  of  the  company ; 
a  man  about  forty  years  of  age,  vigorous  and  ac- 
tive. His  life  had  been  chiefly  passed  on  the 
frontier,  occasionally  in  Indian  warfare,  so  that 
he  was  a  thorough  woodsman,  and  a  first-rate 
hunter.  He  was  equipped  in  character ;  in 
leathern  hunting  shirt  and  leggings,  and  a  leath- 
ern foraging  cap. 

While  we  were  conversing  with  the  Captain,  a 
veteran  huntsman  approached,  whose  whole  ap- 
pearance struck  me.  He  was  of  the  middle 
size,  but  tough  and  weather- proved  ;  a  head 
partly  bald  and  garnished  with  loose  iron-gray 
locks,  and  a  fine  black  eye,  beaming  with  youth- 
ful spirit.  His  dress  was  similar  to  that  of  the 
Captain,  a  rifle  shirt  and  leggings  of  dressed  deer 
skin,  that  had  evidently  seen  service  ;  a  powder- 
horn  was  slung  by  his  side,  a  hunting-knife  stuck 
in  his  belt,  and  in  his  hand  was  an  ancient  and 
trusty  rifle,  doubtless  as  dear  to  him  as  a  bosom 
friend.  He  asked  permission  to  go  hunting, 
which  was  readily  granted.  "  That's  old  Ryan," 
said  the  Captain,  when  he  had  gone  ;  "  there's 
not  a  better  hunter  in  the  camp  ;  he's  sure  to 
bring  in  game." 

In  a  little  while  our  pack-horses  were  unloaded 
and  turned  loose  to  revel  among  the  pea-vines. 
Our  tent  was  pitched  ;  our  fire  made  ;  the  half  of 
a  deer  had  been  sent  to  us  from  the  Captain's 
lodge  ;  Beatte  brought  in  a  couple  of  wild  tur- 
keys ;  the  spits  were  laden,  and  the  camp-kettle 
crammed  with  meat ;  and  to  crown  our  luxuries, 
a  basin  filled  with  great  flakes  of  delicious  honey, 
the  spoils  of  a  plundered  bee-tree,  was  given  us 
by  one  of  the  rangers. 

Our  little  Frenchman,  Tonish,  was  in  an  ec- 
stasy, and  tucking  up  his  sleeves  to  the  elbows, 
set  to  work  to  make  a  display  of  his  culinary  skill, 
on  which  he  prided  himself  almost  as  much  as 
upon  his  hunting,  his  riding,  and  his  warlike 
prowess. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Bee  Hunt. 

THE  beautiful  forest  in  which  we  were  encamped 
abounded  in  bee-trees  ;  that  is  to  say,  trees  in 
the  decayed  trunks  of  which  wild  bees  had  estab- 
lished their  hives.  It  is  surprising  in  what  count- 
less swarms  the  bees  have  overspread  the  Far 
West,  within  but  a  moderate  number  of  years. 
The  Indians  consider  them  the  harbinger  of  the 
white  man,  as  the  buffalo  is  of  the  red  man  ;  and 
say  that,  in  proportion  as  the  bee  advances,  the 
Indian  and  buffalo  retire.  We  are  always  accus- 
tomed to  associate  the  hum  of  the  bee-hive  with 
the  farmhouse  and  flower-garden,  and  to  consider 
those  industrious  little  animals  as  connected  with 
the  busy  haunts  of  man,  and  I  am  told  that  the 
wild  bee  is  seldom  to  be  met  with  at  any  great 
distance  from  the  frontier.  They  have  been  the 
heralds  of  civilization,  steadfastly  preceding  it  as 
it  advanced  from  the  Atlantic  borders,  and  some 
of  the  ancient  settlers  of  the  West  pretend  to 
give  the  very  year  when  the  honey-bee  first 
crossed  the  Mississippi.  The  Indians  with  sur- 
prise found  the  mouldering  trees  of  their  forests 


446 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


suddenly  teeming  with  ambrosial  sweets,  and 
nothing,  I  am  told,  can  exceed  the  greedy  relish 
with  which  they  banquet  for  the  first  time  upon 
this  unbought  luxury  of  the  wilderness. 

At  present  the  honey-bee  swarms  in  myriads, 
in  the  noble  groves  and  forests  which  skirt  and 
intersect  the  prairies,  and  extend  along  the  allu- 
vial bottoms  of  the  rivers.  It  seems  to  me  as  if 
these  beautiful  regions  answer  literally  to  the  de- 
scription of  the  land  of  promise,  "  a  land  flowing 
with  milk  and  honey  ; "  for  the  rich  pasturage  of 
the  prairies  is  calculated  to  sustain  herds  of  cat- 
tle as  countless  as  the  sands  upon  the  sea-shore, 
while  the  flowers  with  which  they  are  enamelled 
render  them  a  very  paradise  for  the  nectar- seek- 
ing bee. 

We  had  not  been  long  in  the  camp  when  a 
party  set  out  in  quest  of  a  bee-tree  ;  and,  being 
curious  to  witness  the  sport,  I  gladly  accepted  an 
invitation  to  accompany  them.  The  party  was 
headed  by  a  veteran  bee-hunter,  a  tall  lank  fel- 
low in  homespun  garb  that  hung  loosely  about 
his  limbs,  and  a  straw  hat  shaped  not  unlike  a 
bee-hive  ;  a  comrade,  equally  uncouth  in  garb, 
and  without  a  hat,  straddled  along  at  his  heels, 
with  a  long  rifle  on  his  shoulder.  To  these  suc- 
ceeded half  a  dozen  others,  some  with  axes  and 
some  with  rifles,  for  no  one  stirs  far  from  the 
camp  without  his  firearms,  so  as  to  be  ready 
either  for  wild  deer  or  wild  Indian. 

After  proceeding  some  distance  we  came  to  an 
open  glade  on  the  skirts  of  the  forest.  Here  our 
leader  halted,  and  then  advanced  quietly  to  a  low 
bush,  on  the  top  of  which  I  perceived  a  piece  of 
honey-comb.  This  I  found  was  the  bait  or  lure 
for  the  wild  bees.  Several  were  humming  about 
it.  and  diving  into  its  cells.  When  they  had  laden 
themselves  with  honey  they  would  rise  into  the 
air,  and  dart  off  in  a  straight  line,  almost  with 
the  velocity  of  a  bullet.  The  hunters  watched 
attentively  the  course  they  took,  and  then  set  off 
in  the  same  direction,  stumbling  along  over 
twisted  roots  and  fallen  trees,  with  their  eyes 
turned  up  to  the  sky.  In  this  way  they  traced 
the  honey-laden  bees  to  their  hive,  in  the  hollow 
trunk  of  a  blasted  oak,  where,  after  buzzing  about 
for  a  moment,  they  entered  a  hole  about  sixty 
feet  from  the  ground. 

Two  of  the  bee-hunters  now  plied  their  axes 
vigorously  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  to  level  it  with  the 
ground.  The  mere  spectators  and  amateurs,  in 
the  meantime,  drew  off  to  a  cautious  distance,  to 
be  out  of  the  way  of  the  falling  of  the  tree  and 
the  vengeance  of  its  inmates.  The  jarring  blows 
of  the  axe  seemed  to  have  no  effect  in  alarming 
or  disturbing  this  most  industrious  community. 
They  continued  to  ply  at  their  usual  occupations, 
some  arriving  full  freighted  into  port,  others  sally- 
ing forth  on  new  expeditions,  like  so  many  mer- 
chantmen in  a  money-making  metropolis,  little 
suspicious  of  impending  bankruptcy  and  down- 
fall. Even  a  loud  crack  which  announced  the 
disrupture  of  the  trunk,  failed  to  divert  their  at- 
tention from  the  intense  pursuit  of  gain ;  at 
length  down  came  the  tree  with  a  tremendous 
crash,  bursting  open  from  end  to  end,  and  dis- 
playing all  the  hoarded  treasures  of  the  common- 
wealth. 

One  of  the  hunters  immediately  ran  up  with  a 
wisp  of  lighted  hay  as  a  defence  against  the 
bees.  The  latter,  however,  made  no  attack  and 
sought  no  revenge ;  they  seemed  stupefied  by  the 
catastrophe  and  unsuspicious  of  its  cause,  and  re- 
mained crawling  and  buzzing  about  the  ruins 
•without  offering  us  any  molestation.  Every  one 


of  the  party  now  fell  to,  with  spoon  and  hunting- 
knife,  to  scoop  out  the  flakes  of  honey-comb  with 
which  the  hollow  trunk  was  stored.  Some  of  them 
were  of  old  date  and  a  deep  brown  color,  others 
were  beautifully  white,  and  the  honey  in  their 
cells  was  almost  limpid.  Such  of  the  combs  as 
were  entire  were  placed  in  camp  kettles  to  be 
conveyed  to  the  encampment  ;  those  which  had 
been  shivered  in  the  fall  were  devoured  upon  the 
spot.  Every  stark  bee-hunter  was  to  be  seen  with 
a  rich  morsel  in  his  hand,  dripping  about  his  fin- 
gers, and  disappearing  as  rapidly  as  a  cream  tart 
before  the  holiday  appetite  of  a  schoolboy. 

Nor  was  it  the  bee-hunters  alone  that  profited 
by  the  downfall  of  this  industrious  community ; 
as  if  the  bees  would  carry  through  the  similitude 
of  their  habits  with  those  of  laborious  and  gain- 
ful man,  I  beheld  numbers  from  rival  hives,  ar- 
riving on  eager  wing,  to  enrich  themselves  with 
the  ruins  of  their  neighbors.  These  busied  them- 
selves as  eagerly  and  cheerfully  as  so  many 
wreckers  on  an  Indiaman  that  has  been  driven 
on  shore  ;  plunging  into  the  cells  of  the  broken 
honey-combs,  banqueting  greedily  on  the  spoil, 
and  then  winging  their  way  full -freighted  to  their 
homes.  As  to  the  poor  proprietors  of  the  ruin, 
they  seemed  to  have  no  heart  to  do  any  thing, 
not  even  to  taste  the  nectar  that  flowed  around 
them ;  but  crawled  backward  and  forward,  in  va- 
cant desolation,  as  I  have  seen  a  poor  fellow  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  whistling  vacantly  and 
despondingly  about  the  ruins  of  his  house  that 
had  been  burnt. 

It  is  difficult  to  describe  the  bewilderment  and 
confusion  of  the  bees  of  the  bankrupt  hive  who 
had  been  absent  at  the  time  of  the  catastrophe, 
and  who  arrived  from  time  to  time,  with  full  car- 
goes from  abroad.  At  first  they  wheeled  about 
in  the  air,  in  the  place  where  the  fallen  tree  had 
once  reared  its  head,  astonished  at  finding  it  all  a 
vacuum.  At  length,  as  if  comprehending  their 
disaster,  they  settled  down  in  clusters  on  a  dry 
branch  of  a  neighboring  tree,  whence  they  seemed 
to  contemplate  the  prostrate  ruin,  and  to  buzz 
forth  doleful  lamentations  over  the  downfall  of 
their  republic.  It  was  a  scene  on  which  the 
"  melancholy  Jacques"  might  have  moralized  by 
the  hour. 

We  now  abandoned  the  place,  leaving  much 
honey  in  the  hollow  of  the  tree.  "It  will  all  be 
cleared  off  by  varmint,"  said  one  of  the  rangers. 
"What  vermin?"  asked  I.  •"'  Oh,  bears,  and 
skunks,  and  racoons,  and  'possums.  The  bears 
is  the  knovvingest  varmint  for  finding  out  a  bee- 
tree  in  the  world.  They'll  gnaw  for  days  to- 
gether at  the  trunk  till  they  make  a  hole  big 
enough  to  get  in  their  paws,  and  then  they'll  haul 
out  honey,  bees  and  all." 


CHAPTER   X. 

Amusements  in  the  Camf. — Consultations. — Hunters'  Ftire 
and  Feasting.  — Evening  Scenes. — Camp  Melody. —  The 
Fate  of  an  Amateur  Owl. 

ON  returning  to  the  camp,  we  found  it  a  scene 
of  the  greatest  hilarity.  Some  of  the  rangers 
were  shooting  at  a  mark,  others  were  leaping, 
wrestling,  and  playing  at  prison  bars.  They 
were  mostly  young  men,  on  their  first  expedition, 
in  high  health  and  vigor,  and  buoyant  with  antici- 
pations ;  and  I  can  conceive  nothing  more  likely 
to  set  the  youthful  blood  into  a  flow,  than  a  wild 


A  TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


447 


wood  life  of  the  kind,  and  the  range  of  a  magnifi- 
cent wilderness,  abounding  with  game,  and  fruit- 
ful of  adventure.  We  send  our  youth  abroad  to 
grow  luxurious  and  effeminate  in  Europe  ;  it  ap- 
pears to  me,  that  a  previous  tour  on  the  prairies 
would  be  more  likely  to  produce  that  manliness, 
simplicity,  and  self-dependence,  most  in  unison 
with  our  political  institutions. 

While  the  young  men  were  engaged  in  these 
boisterous  amusements,  a  graver  set,  composed 
of  the  Captain,  the  Doctor,  and  other  sages  and 
leaders  of  the  camp,  were  seated  or  stretched 
out  on  the  grass,  round  a  frontier  map,  holding  a 
consultation  about  our  position,  and  the  course 
we  were  to  pursue. 

Our  plan  was  to  cross  the  Arkansas  just  above 
where  the  Red  Fork  falls  into  it,  then  to  keep 
westerly,  until  we  should  pass  through  a  grand 
belt  of  open  forest,  called  the  Cross  Timber, 
which  ranges  nearly  north  and  south  from  the 
Arkansas  to  Red  River  ;  after  which,  we  were  to 
keep  a  southerly  course  toward  the  latter  river. 

Our  half-breed,  Beatte,  being  an  experienced 
Osage  hunter,  was  called  into  the  consultation. 
"  Have  you  ever  hunted  in  this  direction?  "  said 
the  Captain.  "  Yes,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 

"  Perhaps,  then,  you  can  tell  us  in  which  di- 
rection lies  the  Red  Fork  ?  " 

"  If  you  keep  along  yonder,  by  the  edge  of  the 
prairie,  you  will  come  to  a  bald  hill,  with  a  pile 
of  stones  upon  it." 

"  I  have  noticed  that  hill  as  I  was  hunting," 
said  the  Captain. 

"  Well !  those  stones  were  set  up  by  the  Osages 
as  a  landmark:  from  that  spot  you  may  have  a 
sight  of  the  Red  Fork." 

"  In  that  case,"  cried  the  Captain,  "  we  shall 
reach  the  Red  Fork  to-morrow ;  then  cross  the 
Arkansas  above  it,  into  the  Pawnee  country,  and 
then  in  two  days  we  shall  crack  buffalo  bones  !  " 

The  idea  of  arriving  at  the  adventurous  hunting 
grounds  of  the  Pawnees,  and  of  coming  upon  the 
traces  of  the  buffaloes,  made  every  eye  sparkle 
with  animation.  Our  further  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  camp. 

"  That's  old  Ryan's  rifle,"  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain; "there's  a  buck  down,  I'll  warrant!"  nor 
was  he  mistaken  ;  for,  before  long,  the  veteran 
made  his  appearance,  calling  upon  one  of  the 
younger  rangers  to  return  with  him,  and  aid  in 
bringing  home  the  carcass. 

The  surrounding  country,  in  fact,  abounded 
with  game,  so  that  the  camp  was  overstocked  with 
provisions,  and,  as  no  less  than  twenty  bee- 
trees  had  been  cut  down  in  the  vicinity,  every 
one  revelled  in  luxury.  With  the  wasteful  pro- 
digality of  hunters,  there  was  a  continual  feast- 
ing, and  scarce  any  one  put  by  provision  for  the 
morrow.  The  cooking  was  conducted  in  hunter's 
style:  the  meat  was  stuck  upon  tapering  spits  of 
dogwood,  which  were  thrust  perpendicularly  into 
the  ground,  so  as  to  sustain  the  joint  before  the 
fire,  where  it  was  roasted  or  broiled  with  all  its 
juices  retained  in  it  in  a  manner  that  would  have 
tickled  the  palate  of  the  most  experienced  gour- 
mand. As  much  could  not  be  said  in  favor  of 
the  bread.  It  was  little  more  than  a  paste  made 
of  flour  and  water,  and  fried  like  fritters,  in  lard  ; 
though  some  adopted  a  ruder  style,  twisting  it 
round  the  ends  of  sticks,  and  thus  roasting  it  be- 
fore the  fire.  In  either  way,  I  have  found  it  ex- 
tremely palatable  on  the  prairies.  No  one  knows 
the  true  relish  of  food  until  he  has  a  hunter's  ap- 
petite. 


Before  sunset,  we  were  summoned  by  little 
Tonish  to  a  sumptuous  repast.  Blankets  had 
been  spread  on  the  ground  near  to  the  fire,  upon 
which  we  took  our  seats.  A  large  dish,  or  bowl, 
made  from  the  root  of  a  maple  tree,  and  which 
we  had  purchased  at  the  Indian  village,  was 
placed  on  the  ground  before  us,  and  into  it  were 
emptied  the  contents  of  one  of  the  camp  kettles, 
consisting  of  a  wild  turkey  hashed,  together  with 
slices  of  bacon  and  lumps  of  dough.  Beside  it 
was  placed  another  bowl  of  similar  ware,  con- 
taining an  ample  supply  of  fritters.  After  we 
had  discussed  the  hash,  two  wooden  spits,  on 
which  the  ribs  of  a  fat  buck  were  broiling  before 
the  fire,  were  removed  and  planted  in  the  ground 
before  us,  with  a  triumphant  air,  by  little  Tonish. 
Having  no  dishes,  we  had  to  proceed  in  hunter's 
style,  cutting  off  strips  and  slices  with  our  hunt- 
ing-knives, and  dipping  them  in  salt  and  pepper. 
To  do  justice  to  Tonish's  cookery,  however,  and 
to  the  keen  sauce  of  the  prairies,  never  have  I 
tasted  venison  so  delicious.  With  all  this,  our 
beverage  was  coffee,  boiled  in  a  camp  kettle, 
sweetened  with  brown  sugar,  and  drunk  out  of 
tin  cups:  and  such  was  the  style  of  our  banquet- 
ing throughout  this  expedition,  whenever  provi- 
sions were  plenty,  and  as  long  as  flour  and  coffee 
and  sugar  held  out. 

As  the  twilight  thickened  into  night,  the  senti- 
nels were  marched  forth  to  their  stations  around 
the  camp ;  an  indispensable  precaution  in  a 
country  infested  by  Indians.  The  encampment 
now  presented  a  picturesque  appearance.  Camp 
fires  were  blazing  and  smouldering  here  and  there 
among  the  trees,  with  groups  of  rangers  round 
them  ;  some  seated  or  lying  on  the  ground,  others 
standing  in  the  ruddy  glare  of  the  flames,  or  in 
shadowy  relief.  At  some  of  the  fires  there  was 
much  boisterous  mirth,  where  peals  of  laughter 
were  mingled  with  loud  ribald  jokes  and  uncouth 
exclamations  ;  for  the  troop  was  evidently  a  raw, 
undisciplined  band,  levied  among  the  wild  young- 
sters of  the  frontier,  who  had  enlisted,  some  for 
the  sake  of  roving  adventure,  and  some  for  the 
purpose  of  getting  a  knowledge  of  the  country. 
Many  of  them  were  the  neighbors  of  their  officers, 
and  accustomed  to  regard  them  with  the  famili- 
arity of  equals  and  companions.  None  of  them 
had  any  idea  of  the  restraint  and  decorum  of  a 
camp,  or  ambition  to  acquire  a  name  for  exact- 
ness in  a  profession  in  which  they  had  no  inten- 
tion of  continuing. 

While  this  boisterous  merriment  prevailed  at 
some  of  the  fires,  there  suddenly  rose  a  strain  of 
nasal  melody  from  another,  at  which  a  choir  of 
"  vocalists"  were  uniting  their  voices  in  a  most 
lugubrious  psalm  tune.  This  was  led  by  one  of  the 
lieutenants  ;  a  tall,  spare  man,  who  we  were  in- 
formed had  officiated  as  schoolmaster,  singing- 
master,  and  occasionally  as  Methodist  preacher, 
in  one  of  the  villages  of  the  frontier.  The  chant 
rose  solemnly  and  sadly  in  the  night  air,  and  re- 
minded me  of  the  description  of  similar  canticles 
in.  the  camps  of  the  Covenanters  ;  and,  indeed, 
the  strange  medley  of  figures  and  faces  and  un- 
couth garbs,  congregated  together  in  our  troop, 
would  not  have  disgraced  the  banners  of  Praise- 
God  Barebones. 

In  one  of  the  intervals  of  this  nasal  psalmody, 
an  amateur  owl,  as  if  in  competition,  began  his 
dreary  hooting.  Immediately  there  was  a  cry 
throughout  the  camp  of  "  Charley's  owl !  Char- 
ley's owl!"  It  seems  this  "  obscure  bird"  had 
visited  the  camp  every  night,  and  had  been  fired 
at  by  one  of  the  sentinels,  a  half-witted  lad, 


448 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


named  Charley  ;  who,  on  being  called  up  for  fir- 
ing when  on  duty,  excused  himself  by  saying, 
that  he  understood  owls  made  uncommonly  good 
soup. 

One  of  the  young  rangers  mimicked  the  cry  of 
this  bird  of  wisdom,  who,  with  a  simplicity  little 
consonant  with  his  character,  came  hovering 
within  sight,  and  alighted  on  the  naked  branch 
of  a  tree,  lit  up  by  the  blaze  of  our  fire.  The 
young  Count  immediately  seized  his  fowling- 
piece,  took  fatal  aim,  and  in  a  twinkling  the 
poor  bird  of  ill  omen  came  fluttering  to  the 
ground.  Charley  was  now  called  upon  to  make 
and  eat  his  dish  of  owl-soup,  but  declined,  as  he 
had  not  shot  the  bird. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  I  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Captain's  fire.  It  was  composed  of  huge  trunks 
of  trees,  and  of  sufficient  magnitude  to  roast  a 
buffalo  whole.  Here  were  a  number  of  the  prime 
hunters  and  leaders  of  the  camp,  some  sitting, 
some  standing,  and  others  lying  on  skins  or  blan- 
kets before  the  fire,  telling  old  frontier  stones 
about  hunting  and  Indian  warfare. 

As  the  night  advanced,  we  perceived  above  the 
trees  to  the  west,  a  ruddy  glow  flushing  up  the 
sky. 

"That  must  be  a  prairie  set  on  fire  by  the 
Osage  hunters,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  It  is  at  the  Red  Fork,"  said  Beatte,  regarding 
the  sky.  "  It  seems  but  three  miles  distant,  yet 
it  perhaps  is  twenty." 

About  half  past  eight  o'clock,  a  beautiful  pale 
light  gradually  sprang  up  in  the  east,  a  precursor 
of  the  rising  moon.  Drawing  off  from  the  Cap- 
tain's lodge,  I  now  prepared  for  the  night's  re- 
pose. I  had  determined  to  abandon  the  shelter 
of  the  tent,  and  henceforth  to  bivouac  like  the 
rangers.  A  bear-skin  spread  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree  was  my,bed,  with  a  pair  of  saddle-bags  for  a 
pillow.  Wrapping  myself  in  blankets,  I  stretched 
myself  on  this  hunter's  couch,  and  soon  fell  into 
a  sound  and  sweet  sleep,  from  which  I  did  not 
awake  until  the  bugle  sounded  at  daybreak. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Breaking  up  of  the  Encampment. — Picturesque  March. — 
Game. — Camp  Scenes. —  Triumph  of  a  Young  Hunter. 
— Ill  Success  of  an  Old  Hunter. — Foul  Murder  of  a 
Polecat. 


OCTOBER  I4TH. — At  the  signal-note  of  the  bugle, 
the  sentinels  and  patrols  inarched  in  from  their 
stations  around  the  camp  and  were  dismissed.  The 
rangers  were  roused  from  their  night's  repose,  and 
soon  a  bustling  scene  took  place.  While  some 
cut  wood,  made  fires,  and  prepared  the  morn- 
ing's meal,  others  struck  their  foul-weather  shel- 
ters of  blankets,  and  made  every  preparation  for 
departure  ;  while  others  dashed  about,  through 
brush  and  brake,  catching  the  horses  and  leading 
or  driving  them  into  camp. 

During  all  this  bustle  the  forest  rang  with 
whoops,  and  shouts,  and  peals  of  laughter  ;  when 
all  had  breakfasted,  packed  up  their  effects  and 
camp  equipage,  and  loaded  the  pack-horses, 
the  bugle  sounded  to  saddle  and  mount.  By  eight 
o'clock  the  whole  troop  set  off  in  a  long  straggling 
line,  with  whoop  and  halloo,  intermingled  with 
many  an  oath  at  the  loitering  pack-horses,  and  in 
a  little  while  the  forest,  which  for  several  days 


had  been  the  scene  of  such  unwonted  bustle  and 
uproar,  relapsed  into  its  primeval  solitude  and  si- 
lence. 

It  was  a  bright  sunny  morning,  with  a  pure 
transparent  atmosphere  that  seemed  to  bathe  the 
very  heart  with  gladness.  Our  march  continued 
parallel  to  the  Arkansas,  through  a  rich  and  va- 
ried country  ;  sometimes  we  had  to  break  our  way 
through  alluvial  bottoms  matted  with  redundant 
vegetation,  where  the  gigantic  trees  were  entan- 
gled with  grape-vines,  hanging  like  cordage  from 
their  branches  ;  sometimes  we  coasted  along 
sluggish  brooks,  whose  feebly  trickling  current  just 
served  to  link  together  a  succession  of  glassy 
pools,  imbedded  like  mirrors  in  the  quiet  bosom 
of  the  forest,  reflecting  its  autumnal  foliage,  and 
patches  of  the  clear  blue  sky.  Sometimes  we 
scrambled  up  broken  and  rocky  hills,  from  the 
summits  of  which  we  had  wide  views  stretching 
on  one  side  over  distant  prairies  diversified  by 
groves  and  forests,  and  on  the  other  ranging  along 
a  line  of  blue  and  shadowy  hills  beyond  the  wa- 
ters of  the  Arkansas. 

The  appearance  of  our  troop  was  suited  to  the 
country  ;  stretching  along  in  a  line  of  upward  of 
half  a  mile  in  length,  winding  among  brakes  and 
bushes,  and  up  and  down  in  the  defiles  of  the 
hills,  the  men  in  every  kind  of  uncouth  garb, 
with  long  rifles  on  their  shoulders,  and  mounted 
on  horses  of  every  color.  The  pack  horses,  too, 
would  incessantly  wander  from  the  line  of  march, 
to  crop  the  surrounding  herbage,  and  were  banged 
and  beaten  back  by  Tonish  and  his  half-breed 
compeers,  with  volleys  of  mongrel  oaths.  Every 
now  and  then  the  notes  of  the  bugle,  from  the  head 
of  the  column,  would  echo  through  the  woodlands 
and  along  the  hollow  glens,  summoning  up  strag- 
glers, and  announcing  the  line  of  march.  The 
whole  scene  reminded  me  of  the  description  given 
of  bands  of  buccaneers  penetrating  the  wilds  of 
South  America,  on  their  plundering  expeditions 
against  the  Spanish  settlements. 

At  one  time  we  passed  through  a  luxuriant  bot- 
tom or  meadow  bordered  by  thickets,  where  the 
tall  grass  was  pressed  down  into  numerous  "  deer 
beds,"  where  those  animals  had  couched  the  pre- 
ceding night.  Some  oak  trees  also  bore  signs  of 
having  been  clambered  by  bears,  in  quest  of 
acorns,  the  marks  of  their  claws  being  visible  in 
the  bark. 

As  we  opened  a  glade  of  this  sheltered  meadow 
we  beheld  several  deer  bounding  away  in  wild 
affright,  until,  having  gained  some  distance,  they 
would  stop  and  gaze  back,  with  the  curiosity  com- 
mon to  this  animal,  at  the  strange  intruders  into 
their  solitudes.  There  was  immediately  a  sharp 
report  of  rifles  in  every  direction,  from  the  young 
huntsmen  of  the  troop,  but  they  were  too  eager 
to  aim  surely,  and  the  deer,  unharmed,  bounded 
away  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

In  the  course  of  our  march  we  struck  the  Ar- 
kansas, but  found  ourselves  still  below  the  Red 
Fork,  and,  as  the  river  made  deep  bends,  we 
again  left  its  banks  and  continued  through  the 
woods  until  nearly  eight  o'clock,  when  we  en- 
camped in  a  beautiful  basin  bordered  by  a  fine 
stream,  and  shaded  by  clumps  of  lofty  oaks. 

The  horses  were  now  hobbled,  that  is  to  say, 
their  fore  legs  were  fettered  with  cords  or  leath- 
ern straps,  so  as  to  impede  their  movements,  and 
prevent  their  wandering  from  the  camp.  They 
were  then  turned  loose  to  graze.  A  number  of 
rangers,  prime  hunters,  started  off  in  different 
directions  in  search  of  game.  There  was  no 
whooping  nor  laughing  about  the  camp  as  in  the 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


morning  ;  all  were  either  busy  about  the  fires  pre- 
paring the  evening's  repast,  or  reposing  upon  the 
grass.  Shots  were  soon  heard  in  various  direc- 
tions. After  a  time  a  huntsman  rode  into  the 
camp  with  the  carcass  of  a  fine  buck  hanging 
across  his  horse.  Shortly  afterward  came  in  a 
couple  of  stripling  hunters  on  foot,  one  of  whom 
bore  on  his  shoulders  the  body  of  a  doe.  He  was 
evidently  proud  of  his  spoil,  being  probably  one 
of  his  first  achievements,  though  he  and  his  com- 
panion were  much  bantered  by  their  comrades, 
as  young  beginners  who  hunted  in  partner- 
ship. 

Just  as  the  night  set  in,  there  was  a  great  shout- 
ing at  one  end  of  the  camp,  and  immediately 
afterward  a  body  of  young  rangers  came  parad- 
ing round  the  various  fires,  bearing  one  of  their 
comrades  in  triumph  on  their  shoulders.  He  had 
shot  an  elk  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  and  itwas 
the  first  animal  of  the  kind  that  had  been  killed 
on  this  expedition.  The  young  huntsman,  whose 
name  was  M'Lellan,  was  the  hero  of  the  camp  for 
the  night,  and  was  the  "  father  of  the  feast  "  into 
the  bargain ;  for  portions  of  his  elk  were  seen 
roasting  at  every  fire. 

The  other  hunters  returned  without  success. 
The  captain  had  observed  the  tracks  of  a  buffalo, 
which  must  have  passed  within  a  few  days,  and 
had  tracked  a  bear  for  some  distance  until  the 
foot-prints  had  disappeared.  He  had  seen  an  elk, 
too,  on  the  banks  of  the  Arkansas,  which  walked 
out  on  a  sand-bar  of  the  river,  but  before  he 
could  steal  round  through  the  bushes  to  get  a  shot, 
it  had  re-entered  the  woods. 

Our  own  hunter,  Beatte,  returned  silent  and 
sulky,  from  an  unsuccessful  hunt.  As  yet  he  had 
brought  us  in  nothing,  and  we  had  depended  for 
our  supplies  of  venison  upon  the  Captain's  mess. 
Beatte  was  evidently  mortified,  for  he  looked 
down  with  contempt  upon  the  rangers,  as  raw  and 
inexperienced  woodsmen,  but  little  skilled  in 
hunting ;  they,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded 
Beatte  with  no  very  complacent  eye,  as  one  of  an 
evil  breed,  and  always  spoke  of  him  as  "  the  In- 
dian." 

Our  little  Frenchman,  Tonish,  also,  by  his  in- 
cessant boasting,  and  chattering,  and  gasconad- 
ing, in  his  balderdashed  dialect,  had  drawn  upon 
himself  the  ridicule  of  many  of  the  wags  of  the 
troop,  who  amused  themselves  at  his  expense  in 
a  kind  of  raillery  by  no  means  remarkable  for  its 
delicacy ;  but  the  little  varlet  was  so  completely 
fortified  by  vanity  and  self-conceit,  that  he  was 
invulnerable  to  every  joke.  I  must  confess,  how- 
ever, that  I  felt  a  little  mortified  at  the  sorry  fig- 
ure our  retainers  were  making  among  these 
moss-troopers  of  the  frontier.  Even  our  very 
equipments  came  in  for  a  share  of  unpopularity, 
and  I  heard  many  sneers  at  the  double-barrelled 
guns  with  which  we  were  provided  against  smaller 
game ;  the  lads  of  the  West  holding  "  shot-guns," 
as  they  call  them,  in  great  contempt,  thinking 
grouse,  partridges,  and  even  wild  turkeys  as  be- 
neath their  serious  attention,  and  the  rifle  the 
only  firearm  worthy  of  a  hunter. 

I  was  awakened  before  daybreak  the  next 
morning,  by  the  mournful  howling  of  a  wolf,  who 
was  skulking  about  the  purlieus  of  the  camp,  at- 
tracted by  the  scent  of  venison.  Scarcely  had 
the  first  gray  streak  of  dawn  appeared,  when  a 
youngster  at  one  of  the  distant  lodges,  shaking 
off  his  sleep,  crowed  in  imitation  of  a  cock,  with 
a  loud  clear  note  and  prolonged  cadence,  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  the  most  veteran  chan- 
ticleer. He  was  immediately  answered  from  an- 


other quarter,  as  if  from  a  rival  rooster.  The 
chant  was  echoed  from  lodge  to  lodge,  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  cackling  of  hens,  quacking  of  ducks, 
gabbling  of  turkeys,  and  grunting  of  swine,  until 
we  seemed  to  have  been  transported  into  the 
midst  of  a  farmyard,  with  all  its  inmates  in  full 
concert  around  us. 

After  riding  a  short  distance  this  morning,  we 
came  upon  a  well-worn  Indian  track,  and  follow- 
ing it,  scrambled  to  the  summit  of  a  hill,  whence 
we  had  a  wide  prospect  over  a  country  diversified 
by  rocky  ridges  and  waving  lines  of  upland,  and 
enriched  by  groves  and  clumps  of  trees  of  varied 
tuft  and  foliage.  At  a  distance  to  the  west,  to 
our  great  satisfaction,  we  beheld  the  Red  Fork 
rolling  its  ruddy  current  to  the  Arkansas,  and 
found  that  we  were  above  the  point  of  junction. 
We  now  descended  and  pushed  forward,  with 
much  difficulty,  through  the  rich  alluvial  bottom 
that  borders  the  Arkansas.  Here  the  trees  were 
interwoven  with  grape-vines,  forming  a  kind  of 
cordage,  from  trunk  to  trunk  and  limb  to  limb  ; 
there  was  a  thick  undergrowth,  also,  of  bush  and 
bramble,  and  such  an  abundance  of  hops,  fit  for 
gathering^  that  it  was  difficult  for  our  horses  to 
force  their  way  through. 

The  soil  was  imprinted  in  many  places  with 
the  tracks  of  deer,  and  the  claws  of  bears  were 
to  be  traced  on  various  trees.  Every  one  was  on 
the  look-out  in  the  hope  of  starting  some  game, 
when  suddenly  there  was  a  bustle  and  a  clamor 
in  a  distant  part  of  the  line.  A  bear !  a  bear ! 
was  the  cry.  We  all  pressed  forward  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  sport,  when  to  my  infinite,  though 
whimsical  chagrin,  I  found  it  to  be  our  two 
worthies,  Beatte  and  Tonish,  perpetrating  a  foul 
murder  on  a  polecat,  or  skunk !  The  animal 
had  ensconced  itself  beneath  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  whence  it  kept  up  a  vigorous  defence  in  its 
peculiar  style,  until  the  surrounding  forest  was  in 
a  high  state  of  fragrance. 

Gibes  and  jokes  now  broke  out  on  all  sides  at 
the  expense  of  the  Indian  hunter,  and  he  was  ad- 
vised to  wear  the  scalp  of  the  skunk  as  the  only 
trophy  of  his  prowess.  When  they  found,  how- 
ever, that  he  and  Tonish  were  absolutely  bent 
upon  bearing  off  the  carcass  as  a  peculiar  dainty, 
there  was  a  universal  expression  of  disgust ;  and 
they  were  regarded  as  little  better  than  canni- 
bals. 

Mortified  at  this  ignominious  debut  of  our  two 
hunters,  I  insisted  upon  their  abandoning  their 
prize  and  resuming  their  march.  Beatte  com- 
plied with  a  dogged,  discontented  air,  and  lagged 
behind  muttering  to  himself.  Tonish,  however, 
with  his  usual  buoyancy,  consoled  himself  by 
vociferous  eulogies  on  the  richness  and  delicacy 
of  a  roasted  polecat,  which  he  swore  was  consid- 
ered the  daintiest  of  dishes  by  all  experienced 
Indian  gourmands.  It  was  with  difficulty  I  could 
silence  his  loquacity  by  repeated  and  peremptory 
commands.  A  Frenchman's  vivacity,  however, 
if  repressed  in  one  way,  will  break  out  in  an- 
other, and  Tonish  now  eased  off  his  spleen  by 
bestowing  volleys  of  oaths  and  dry  blows  on  the 
pack-horses.  I  was  likely  to  be  no  gainer  in  the 
end,  by  my  opposition  to  the  humors  of  these 
varlets,  for  after  a  time,  Beatte,  who  had  lagged 
behind,  rode  up  to  the  head  of  the  line  to  resume 
his  station  as  a  guide,  and  I  had  the  vexation  to 
see  the  carcass  of  his  prize,  stripped  of  its  skin, 
and  looking  like  a  fat  sucking-pig,  dangling  be- 
hind his  saddle.  I  made  a  solemn  vow,  however, 
in  secret,  that  our  fire  should  not  be  disgraced 
by  the  cooking  of  that  polecat. 


450 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

The  Crossing  of  the  Arkansas. 

WE  had  now  arrived  at  the  river,  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  above  the  junction  of  the  Red  Fork ; 
but  the  banks  were  steep  and  crumbling,  and  the 
current  was  deep  and  rapid.  It  was  impossible, 
therefore,  to  cross  at  this  place  ;  and  we  resumed 
our  painful  course  through  the  forest,  dispatching 
Beatte  ahead,  in  search  of  a  fording  place.  We 
had  proceeded  about  a  mile  farther,  when  he  re- 
joined us,  bringing  intelligence  of  a  place  hard  by, 
where  the  river,  for  a  great  part  of  its  breadth, 
was  rendered  fordable  by  sand-bars,  and  the  re- 
mainder might  easily  be  swam  by  the  horses. 

Here,  then,  we  made  a  halt.  Some  of  the 
rangers  set  to  work  vigorously  with  their  axes, 
felling  trees  on  the  edge  of  the  river,  wherewith 
to  form  rafts  for  the  transportation  of  their  bag- 
gage and  camp  equipage.  Others  patrolled  the 
banks  of  the  river  farther  up,  in  hopes  of  finding 
a  better  fording  place  ;  being  unwilling  to  risk 
their  horses  in  the  deep  channel. 

It  was  now  that  our  worthies,  Beatte  and  Ton- 
ish,  had  an  opportunity  of  displaying  their  Indian 
adroitness  and  resource.  At  the  Osage  village 
which  we  had  passed  a  day  or  two  before,  they 
had  procured  a  dry  buffalo  skin.  This  was  now 
produced  ;  cords  were  passed  through  a  number 
of  small  eyelet-holes  with  which  it  was  bordered, 
and  it  was  drawn  up,  until  it  formed  a  kind  of 
deep  trough.  Sticks  were  then  placed  athwart  it 
on  the  inside,  to  keep  it  in  shape  ;  our  camp 
equipage  and  a  part  of  our  baggage  were  placed 
within,  and  the  singular  bark  was  carried  down 
the  bank  and  set  afloat.  A  cord  was  attached  to 
the  prow,  which  Beatte  took  between  his  teeth, 
and  throwing  himself  into  the  water,  went  ahead, 
towing  the  bark  after  him  ;  while  Tonish  followed 
behind,  to  keep  it  steady  and  to  propel  it.  Part 
of  the  way  they  had  foothold,  and  were  enabled 
to  wade,  but  in  the  main  current  they  were 
obliged  to  swim.  The  whole  way,  they  whooped 
and  yelled  in  the  Indian  style,  until  they  landed 
safely  on  the  opposite  shore. 

The  Commissioner  and  myself  were  so  well 
pleased  with  this  Indian  mode  of  ferriage,  that 
we  determined  to  trust  ourselves  in  the  buffalo 
hide.  Our  companions,  the  Count  and  Mr.  L., 
had  proceeded  with  the  horses,  along  the  river 
bank,  in  search  of  a  ford  which  some  of  the  ran- 
gers had  discovered,  about  a  mile  and  half  dis- 
tant. While  we  were  waiting  for  the  return  of 
our  ferryman,  I  happened  to  cast  my  eyes  upon 
a  heap  of  luggage  under  a  bush,  and  descried  the 
sleek  carcass  of  the  polecat,  snugly  trussed  up, 
and  ready  for  roasting  before  the  evening  fire. 
I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  plump  it  into 
the  river,  when  it  sunk  to  the  bottom  like  a  lump 
of  lead  ;  and  thus  our  lodge  was  relieved  from  the 
bad  odor  which  this  savory  viand  had  threatened 
to  bring  upon  it. 

Our  men  having  recrossed  with  their  cockle- 
shell bark,  it  was  drawn  on  shore,  half  filled  with 
saddles,  saddlebags,  and  other  luggage,  amount- 
ing to  a  hundred  weight ;  and  being  again  placed 
in  the  water,  I  .was  invited  to  take  my  seat.  It 
appeared  to  me  pretty  much  like  the  embarkation 
of  the  wise  men  of  Gotham,  who  went  to  sea  in  a 
bowl :  I  stepped  in,  however,  without  hesitation, 
though  as  cautiously  as  possible,  and  sat  down 
on  the  top  of  the  luggage,  the  margin  of  the  hide 
sinking  to  within  a  hand's  breadth  of  the  water's 
edge.  Rifles,  fowling-pieces,  and  other  articles 


of  small  bulk,  were  then  handed  in,  until  I  pro- 
tested against  receiving  any  more  freight.  We 
then  launched  forth  upon  the  stream,  the  bark 
being  towed  as  before. 

It  was  with  a  sensation  half  serious,  half  comic, 
that  I  found  myself  thus  afloat,  on  the  skin  of  a 
buffalo,  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  river,  surrounded 
by  wilderness,  and  towed  along  by  a  half  savage, 
whooping  and  yelling  like  a  devil  incarnate.  To 
please  the  vanity  of  little  Tonish,  I  discharged 
the  double-barrelled  gun,  to  the  right  and  left, 
when  in  the  centre  of  the  stream.  The  report 
echoed  along  the  woody  shores,  and  was  answered 
by  shouts  from  some  of  the  rangers,  to  the  great 
exultation  of  the  little  Frenchman,  who  took  to 
himself  the  whole  glory  of  this  Indian  mode  of 
navigation. 

Our  voyage  was  accomplished  happily ;  the 
Commissioner  was  ferried  across  with  equal  suc- 
cess, and  all  our  effects  were  brought  over  in  the 
same  manner.  Nothing  could  equal  the  vain- 
glorious vaporing  of  little  Tonish,  as  he  strutted 
about  the  shore,  and  exulted  in  his  superior  skill 
and  knowledge,  to  the  rangers.  Beatte,  however, 
kept  his  proud,  saturnine  look,  without  a  smile. 
He  had  a  vast  contempt  for  the  ignorance  of  the 
rangers,  and  felt  that  he  had  been  undervalued 
by  them.  His  only  observation  was,  "  Dey  now 
see  de  Indian  good  for  someting,  anyhow!" 

The  broad,  sandy  shore  where  we  had  landed, 
was  intersected  by  innumerable  tracks  of  elk, 
deer,  bears,  racoons,  turkeys,  and  water-fowl. 
The  river  scenery  at  this  place  was  beautifully 
diversified,  presenting  long,  shining  reaches,  bor- 
dered by  willows  and  cottonwood  trees ;  rich 
bottoms,  with  lofty  forests  ;  among  which  tow- 
ered enormous  plane  trees,  and  the  distance  was 
closed  in  by  high  embowered  promontories. 
The  foliage  had  a  yellow  autumnal  tint,  which 
gave  to  the  sunny  landscape  the  golden  tone  of 
one  of  the  landscapes  of  Claude  Lorraine.  There 
was  animation  given  to  the  scene,  by  a  raft  of 
logs  and  branches,  on  which  the  Captain  and  his 
prime  companion,  the  Doctor,  were  ferrying  their 
effects  across  the  stream  ;  and  by  a  long  line  of 
rangers  on  horseback,  fording  the  river  obliquely, 
along  a  series  of  sand-bars,  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  distant. 


CHAPTER  XIII.  ' 

THE  CAMP   OF    THE   GLEN. 

Camp    Gossip. — Pawnees  and  their  Habits. — A  Hunter's 
Adventure. — Horses  found,  and  J\  I  en  lost. 

BEING  joined  by  the  Captain  and  some  of  the 
rangers,  we  struck  into  the  woods  for  about  half 
a  mile,  and  then  entered  a  wild,  rocky  dell,  bor- 
dered by  two  lofty  ridges  of  limestone,  which 
narrowed  as  we  advanced,  until  they  met  and 
united  ;  making  almost  an  angle.  Here  a  fine 
spring  of  water  rose  among  the  rocks,  and  fed  a 
silver  rill  that  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  dell, 
freshening  the  grass  with  which  it  was  carpeted. 

In  this  rocky  nook  we  encamped,  among  tall 
trees.  The  rangers  gradually  joined  us,  strag- 
gling through  the  forest  singly  or  in  groups  ;  some 
on  horseback,  some  on  foot,  driving  their  horses 
before  them,  heavily  laden  with  baggage,  some 
dripping  wet,  having  fallen  into  the  river  ;  for 
they  had  experienced  much  fatigue  and  trouble 
from  the  length  of  the  ford,  and  the  depth  and 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


451 


rapidity  of  the  stream.  They  looked  not  unlike 
banditti  returning  with  their  plunder,  and  the 
wild  dell  was  a  retreat  worthy  to  receive  them. 
The  effect  was  heightened  after  dark,  when  the 
light  of  the  fires  was  cast  upon  rugged  looking 
groups  of  men  and  horses  ;  with  baggage  tumbled 
in  heaps,  rifles  piled  against  the  trees,  and  sad- 
dles, bridles,  and  powder-horns  hanging  about 
their  trunks. 

At  the  encampment  we  were  joined  by  the 
young  Count  and  his  companion,  and  the  young 
half-breed,  Antoine,  who  had  all  passed  success- 
fully by  the  ford.  To  my  annoyance,  however,  I 
discovered  that  both  of  my  horses  were  missing. 
I  had  supposed  them  in  the  charge  of  Antoine  ; 
but  he,  with  characteristic  carelessness,  had  paid 
no  heed  to  them,  and  they  had  probably  wan- 
dered from  the  line  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river.  It  was  arranged  that  Beatte  and  Antoine 
should  recross  the  river  at  an  early  hour  of  the 
morning,  in  search  of  them. 

A  fat  buck,  and  a  number  of  wild  turkeys  being 
brought  into  the  camp,  we  managed,  with  the 
addition  of  a  cup  of  coffee,  to  make  a  comfortable 
supper ;  after  which  I  repaired  to  the  Captain's 
lodge,  which  was  a  kind  of  council  fire  and  gos- 
siping place  for  the  veterans  of  the  camp. 

As  we  were  conversing  together,  we  observed, 
as  on  former  nights,  a  dusky,  red  glow  in  the 
west,  above  the  summits  of  the  surrounding  cliffs. 
It  was  again  attributed  to  Indian  fires  on  the 
prairies  ;  and  supposed  to  be  on  the  western  side 
of  the  Arkansas.  If  so,  it  was  thought  they  must 
be  made  by  some  party  of  Pawnees,  as  the  Osage 
hunters  seldom  ventured  in  that  quarter.  Our 
half  breeds,  however,  pronounced  them  Osage 
fires ;  and  that  they  were  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Arkansas. 

The  conversation  now  turned  upon  the  Paw- 
nees, into  whose  hunting  grounds  we  were  about 
entering.  There  is  always  some  wild  untamed 
tribe  of  Indians,  who  form,  for  a  time,  the  terror 
of  a  frontier,  and  about  whom  all  kinds  of  fearful 
stories  are  told.  Such,  at  present,  was  the  case 
with  the  Pawnees,  who  rove  the  regions  between 
the  Arkansas  and  the  Red  River,  and  the  prairies 
of  Texas.  They  were  represented  as  admirable 
horsemen,  and  always  on  horseback  ;  mounted 
on  fleet  and  hardy  steeds,  the  wild  race  of  the 
prairies.  With  these  they  roam  the  great  plains 
that  extend  about  the  Arkansas,  the  Red  River, 
and  through  Texas,  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  ; 
sometimes  engaged  in  hunting  the  deer  and  buf- 
falo, sometimes  in  warlike  and  predatory  expedi- 
tions ;  for,  like  their  counterparts,  the  sons  of 
Ishmael,  their  hand  is  against  every  one,  and 
every  one's  hand  against  them.  Some  of  them 
have  no  fixed  habitation,  but  dwell  in  tents  of 
skin,  easily  packed  up  and  transported,  so  that 
they  are  here  to-day,  and  away,  no  one  knows 
where,  to-morrow. 

One  of  the  veteran  hunters  gave  several  anec- 
dotes of  their  mode  of  fighting.  Luckless,  ac- 
cording to  his  account,  is  the  band  of  weary 
traders  or  hunters  descried  by  them,  in  the  midst 
of  a  prairie.  Sometimes,  they  will  steal  upon 
them  by  stratagem,  hanging  with  one  leg  over 
the  saddle,  and  their  bodies  concealed  ;  so  that 
their  troop  at  a  distance  has  the  appearance  of  a 
gang  of  wild  horses.  When  they  have  thus 
gained  sufficiently  upon  the  enemy,  they  will 
suddenly  raise  themselves  in  their  saddles,  and 
come  like  a  rushing  blast,  all  fluttering  with 
feathers,  shaking  their  mantles,  brandishing  their 
weapons,  and  making  hideous  yells.  In  this 


way,  they  seek  to  strike  a  panic  into  the  horses, 
and  put  them  to  the  scamper,  when  they  will 
pursue  and  carry  them  off  in  triumph. 

The  best  mode  of  defence,  according  to  this 
veteran  woodsman,  is  to  get  into  the  covert  of 
some  wood,  or  thicket ;  or  if  there  be  none  at 
hand,  to  dismount,  tie  the  horses  firmly  head  to 
head  in  a  circle,  so  that  they  cannot  break  away 
and  scatter,  and  resort  to  the  shelter  of  a  ravine, 
or  make  a  hollow  in  the  sand,  where  they  may  be 
screened  from  the  shafts  of  the  Pawnees.  The 
latter  chiefly  use  the  bow  and  arrow,  and  are  dex- 
terous archers  ;  circling  round  and  round  their 
enemy,  and  launching  their  arrows  when  at  full 
speed.  They  are  chiefly  formidable  on  the  praj* 
ries,  where  they  have  free  career  for  their  horses, 
and  no  trees  to  turn  aside  their  arrows.  They 
will  rarely  follow  a  flying  enemy  into  the  forest. 

Several  anecdotes,  also,  were  given,  of  the  se- 
crecy and  caution  with  which  they  will  follow, 
and  hang  about  the  camp  of  an  enemy,  seeking  a 
favorable  moment  for  plunder  or  attack. 

"  We  must  now  begin  to  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out," said  the  Captain.  "  I  must  issue  written 
orders,  that  no  man  shall  hunt  without  leave,  or 
fire  off  a  gun,  on  pain  of  riding  a  wooden  horse 
with  a  sharp  back.  I  have  a  wild  crew  of  young 
fellows,  unaccustomed  to  frontier  service.  It  will 
be  difficult  to  teach  them  caution.  We  are  now 
in  the  land  of  a  silent,  watchful,  crafty  people, 
who,  when  we  least  suspect  it,  maybe  around  us, 
spying  out  all  our  movements,  and  ready  to 
pounce  upon  all  stragglers." 

"  How  will  you  be  able  to  keep  your  men  from 
firing,  if  they  see  game  while  strolling  round  the 
camp  ? "  asked  one  of  the  rangers. 

"  They  must  not  take  their  guns  with  them  un- 
less they  are  on  duty,  or  have  permission." 

"  Ah,  Captain  !  "  cried  the  ranger,  "  that  will 
never  do  for  me.  Where  I  go,  my  rifle  goes.  I 
never  like  to  leave  it  behind  ;  it's  like  a  part  of 
myself.  There's  no  one  will  take  such  care  of  it 
as  I,  and  there's  nothing  will  take  such  care  of 
me  as  my  rifle." 

"  There's  truth  in  all  that,"  said  the  Captain, 
touched  by  a  true  hunter's  sympathy.  "  I've 
had  my  rifle  pretty  nigh  as  long  as  I  have  had  my 
wife,  and  a  faithful  friend  it  has  been  to  me." 

Here  the  Doctor,  who  is  as  keen  a  hunter  as 
the  Captain,  joined  in  the  conversation:  "A 
neighbor  of  mine  says,  next  to  my  rifle,  I'd  as 
leave  lend  you  my  wife." 

"  There's  few,"  observed  the  Captain,  "  that 
take  care  of  their  riilcs  as  they  ought  to  be  taken 
care  of." 

"  Or  of  their  wives  either,"  replied  the  Doctor, 
with  a  wink. 

"That's  a  fact,"  rejoined  the  Captain. 

Word  was  now  brought  that  a  party  of  four 
rangers,  headed  by  "  Old  Ryan,",  were  missing. 
They  had  separated  from  the  main  body,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  when  searching  for  a 
ford,  and  had  straggled  off,  nobody  knew  whither. 
Many  conjectures  were  made  about  them,  and 
some  apprehensions  expressed  for  their  safety. 

"  I  should  send  to  look  after  them,"  said  the 
Captain,  "but  old  Ryan  is  with  them,  and  he 
knows  how  to  take  care  of  himself  and  of  them 
too.  If  it  were  not  for  him,  I  would  not  give 
much  for  the  rest  ;  but  he  is  as  much  at  home  in 
the  woods  or  on  a  prairie  as  he  would  be  in  his 
own  farmyard.  He's  never  lost,  wherever  he  is. 
There's  a  good  gang  of  them  to  stand  by  one 
another ;  four  to  watch  and  one  to  take  care  of 
the  fire." 


452 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


"It's  a  dismal  thing  to  get  lost  at  night  in  a 
strange  and  wild  country,"  said  one  of  the  younger 
rangers. 

"  Not  if  you  have  one  or  two  in  company,"  said 
an  older  one.  "  For  my  part,  I  could  feel  as 
cheerful  in  this  hollow  as  in  my  own  home,  if  I 
had  but  one  comrade  to  take  turns  to  watch  and 
keep  the  fire  going.  I  could  lie  here  for  hours, 
and  gaze  up  to  that  blazing  star  there,  that  seems 
to  look  down  into  the  camp  as  if  it  were  keeping 
guard  over  it." 

"  Aye,  the  stars  are  a  kind  of  company  to  one, 
when  you  have  to  keep  watch  alone.  That's  a 
cheerful  star,  too,  somehow ;  that's  the  evening 
star,  the  planet  Venus  they  call  it,  I  think." 

"  If  that's  the  planet  Venus,"  said  one  of  the 
council,  who,  I  believe,  was  the  psalm-singing 
schoolmaster,  "  it  bodes  us  no  good  ;  for  I  recol- 
lect reading  in  some  book  that  the  Pawnees  wor- 
ship that  star,  and  sacrifice  their  prisoners  to  it. 
So  I  should  not  feel  the  better  for  the  sight  of 
that  star  in  this  part  of  the  country." 

"  Well,"  said  the  sergeant,  a  thorough-bred 
woodsman,  "  star  or  no  star,  I  have  passed  many 
a  night  alone  in  a  wilder  place  than  this,  and 
slept  sound  too,  I'll  warrant  you.  Once,  how- 
ever, I  had  rather  an  uneasy  time  of  it.  I  was 
belated  in  passing  through  a  tract  of  wood,  near 
the  Tombigbee  River ;  so  I  struck  a  light,  made 
a.  fire,  and  turned  my  horse  loose,,  while  I 
stretched  myself  to  sleep.  By  and  by,  I  heard 
the  wolves  howl.  My  horse  came  crowding  near 
me  for  protection,  for  he  was  terribly  frightened. 
I  drove  him  off,  but  he  returned,  and  drew  nearer 
and  nearer,  and  stood  looking  at  me  and  at  the 
fire,  and  dozing,  and  nodding,  and  tottering  on 
his  fore  feet,  for  he  was  powerful  tired.  After  a 
while,  I  heard  a  strange  dismal  cry.  I  thought 
at  first  it  might  be  an  owl.  I  heard  it  again,  and 
then  I  knew  it  was  not  an  owl,  but  must  be  a  pan- 
ther. I  felt  rather  awkward,  for  I  had  no  weapon 
but  a  double-bladed  penknife.  I  however  pre- 
pared for  defence  in  the  best  way  I  could,  and 
piled  up  small  brands  from  the  fire,  to  pepper 
him  with,  should  he  come  nigh.  The  company 
of  my  horse  now  seemed  a  comfort  to  me  ;  the 
poor  creature  laid  down  beside  me  and  soon  fell 
asleep,  being  so  tired.  I  kept  watch,  and  nod- 
ded and  dozed,  and  started  awake,  and  looked 
round,  expecting  to  see  the  glaring  eyes  of  the 
panther  close  upon  me  ;  but  somehow  or  other, 
fatigue  got  the  better  of  me,  and  I  fell  asleep  out- 
right. In  the  morning  I  found  the  tracks  of  a 
panther  within  sixty  paces.  They  were  as  large 
as  my  two  fists.  He  had  evidently  been  walking 
backward  and  forward,  trying  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  attack  me  ;  but  luckily,  he  had  not 
courage." 

October  1 6th. — I  awoke  before  daylight.  The 
moon  was  shining  feebly  down  into  the  glen,  from 
among  light  drifting  clouds  ;  the  camp  fires  were 
nearly  burnt  out,  and  the  men  lying  about  them, 
wrapped  in  blankets.  With  the  first  streak  of 
day,  our  huntsman,  Beatte,  with  Antoine,  the 
young  half-breed,  set  off  to  recross  the  river,  in 
search  of  the  stray  horses,  in  company  with  sev- 
eral rangers  who  had  left  their  rifles  on  the  oppo- 
site shore.  As  the  ford  was  deep,  and  they  were 
obliged  to  cross  in  a  diagonal  line,  against  a  rapid 
current,  they  had  to  be  mounted  on  the  tallest 
and  strongest  horses. 

By  eight  o'clock,  Beatte  returned.  He  had 
found  the  horses,  but  had  lost  Antoine.  The 
latter,  he  said,  was  a  boy,  a  greenhorn,  that  knew 
nothing  of  the  woods.  He  had  wandered  out  of 


sight  of  him,  and  got  lost.  However,  there  were 
plenty  more  for  him  to  fall  in  company  with,  as 
some  of  the  rangers  had  gone  astray  also,  and 
old  Ryan  and  his  party  had  not  returned. 

We  waited  until  the  morning  was  somewhat 
advanced,  in  hopes  of  being  rejoined  by  the 
stragglers,  but  they  did  not  make  their  appear- 
ance. The  Captain  observed,  that  the  Indians 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  were  all  well 
disposed  to  the  whites  ;  so  that  no  serious  appre- 
hensions need  be  entertained  for  the  safety  of  the 
missing.  The  greatest  danger  was,  that  their 
horses  might  be  stolen  in  the  night  by  straggling 
Osages.  He  determined,  therefore,  to  proceed, 
leaving  a  rear-guard  in  the  camp,  to  await  their 
arrival. 

I  sat  on  a  rock  that  overhung  the  spring  at  the 
upper  part  of  the  dell,  and  amused  myself  by 
watching  the  changing  scene  before  me.  First', 
the  preparations  for  departure.  Horses  driven 
in  from  the  purlieus  of  the  camp  ;  rangers  riding 
about  among  rocks  and  bushes  in  quest  of  others 
that  had  strayed  to  a  distance  ;  the  bustle  of 
packing  up  camp  equipage,  and  the  clamor  after 
kettles  and  frying-pans  borrowed  by  one  mess 
from  another,  mixed  up  with  oaths  and  exclama- 
tions at  restive  horses,  or  others  that  had  wan- 
dered away  to  graze  after  being  packed,  among 
which  the  voice  of  our  little  Frenchman,  Tonish, 
was  particularly  to  be  distinguished. 

The  bugle  sounded  the  signal  to  mount  and 
march.  The  troop  filed  off  in  irregular  line  down 
the  glen,  and  through  the  open  forest,  winding 
and  gradually  disappearing  among  the  trees, 
though  the  clamor  of  voices  and  the  notes  of  the 
bugle  could  be  heard  for  some  time  afterward. 
The  rear-guard  remained  under  the  trees  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  dell,  some  on  horseback,  with 
their  rifles  on  their  shoulders  ;  others  seated  by 
the  fire  or  lying  on  the  ground,  gossiping  in  a 
low,  lazy  tone  of  voice,  their  horses  unsaddled, 
standing  and  dozing  around,  while  one  of  the 
rangers,  profiting  by  this  interval  of  leisure,  was 
shaving  himself  before  a  pocket  mirror  stuck 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree. 

The  clamor  of  voices  and  the  notes  of  the  bugle 
at  length  died  away,  and  the  glen  relapsed  into 
quiet  and  silence,  broken  occasionally  by  the  low 
murmuring  tone  of  the  group  around  the  fire,  or 
the  pensive  whistle  of  some  laggard  among  the 
trees  ;  or  the  rustling  of  the  yellow  leaves,  which 
the  lightest  breath  of  air  brought  down  in  waver- 
ing showers,  a  sign  of  the  departing  glories  of 
the  year. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Deer-Shooting. — Life  on  the  Prairies. — Beautiful  F.n- 
campment. — Hunter's  Luck. — Anecdotes  of  ike  Dcla- 
•warcs  and  their  Superstitions. 

HAVING  passed  through  the  skirt  cf  woodland 
bordering  the  river,  we  ascended  the  hills,  taking 
a  westerly  course  through  an  undulating  country 
of"  oak  openings, "where  the  eye  stretched  over 
wide  tracts  of  hill  and  dale,  diversified  by  for- 
ests, groves,  and  clumps  of  trees.  As  we  were 
proceeding  at  a  slow  pace,  those  who  were  at  the 
head  of  the  line  descried  four  deer  grazing  on  a 
grassy  slope  about  half  a  mile  distant.  They 
apparently  had  not  perceived  our  approach,  and 
continued  to  graze  in  perfect  tranquillity.  A 
young  ranger  obtained  permission  from  the  Cap- 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


453 


tain  to  go  in  pursuit  of  them,  and  the  troop 
halted  in  lengthened  line,  watching  him  in  silence. 
Walking  his  horse  slowly  and  cautiously,  he  made 
a  circuit  until  a  screen  of  wood  intervened  be- 
tween him  and  the  deer.  Dismounting  then,  he 
left  his  horse  among  the  trees,  and  creeping  round 
a  knoll,  was  hidden  from  our  view.  We  no.w 
kept  our  eyes  intently  fixed  on  the  deer,  which 
continued  grazing,  unconscious  of  their  danger. 
Presently  there  was  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  ;  a 
fine  buck  made  a  convulsive  bound  and  fell  to 
the  earth  ;  his  companions  scampered  off.  Im- 
mediately pur  whole  line  of  march  was  broken  ; 
there  was  a  helter-skelter  galloping  of  the  young- 
sters of  the  troop,  eager  to  get  a  shot  at  the 
fugitives  ;  and  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  per- 
sonages in  the  chase  was  our  little  Frenchman 
Tonish,  on  his  silver-gray  ;  having  abandoned  his 
pack-horses  at  the  first  sight  of  the  deer.  It  was 
some  time  before  our  scattered  forces  could  be 
recalled  by  the  bugle,  and  our  march  resumed. 

Two  or  three  times  in  the  course  of  the  day  we 
were  interrupted  by  hurry-scurry  scenes  of  the 
kind.  The  young  men  of  the  troop  were  full  of 
excitement  on  entering  an  unexplored  country 
abounding  in  game,  and  they  were  too  little  ac- 
customed to  discipline  or  restraint  to  be  kept  in 
order.  No  one,  however,  was  more  unmanage- 
able than  Tonish.  Having  an  intense  conceit  of 
his  skill  as  a  hunter,  and  an  irrepressible  passion 
for  display,  he  was  continually  sallying  forth, 
like  an  ill-broken  hound,  whenever  any  game 
was  started,  and  had  as  often  to  be  whipped 
back. 

At  length  his  curiosity  got  a  salutary  check.  A 
fat  doe  came  bounding  along  in  full  view  of  the 
whole  line.  Tonish  dismounted,  levelled  his 
rifle,  and  had  a  fair  shot.  The  doe  kept  on.  He 
sprang  upon  his  horse,  stood  up  on  the  saddle 
like  a  posture-master,  and  continued  gazing  after 
the  animal  as  if  certain  to  see  it  fall.  The  doe, 
however,  kept  on  its  way  rejoicing ;  a  laugh 
broke  out  along  the  line,  the  little  Frenchman 
slipped  quietly  into  his  saddle,  began  to  belabor 
and  blaspheme  the  wandering  pack-horses,  as  if 
they  had  been  to  blame,  and  for  some  time  we 
were  relieved  from  his  vaunting  and  vaporing. 

In  one  place  of  our  march  we  came  to  the  re- 
mains of  an  old  Indian  encampment,  on  the 
banks  of  a  fine  stream,  with  the  moss-grown 
skulls  of  deer  lying  here  and  there  about  it.  As 
we  were  in  the  Pawnee  country,  it  was  supposed, 
of  course,  to  have  been  a  camp  of  those  formida- 
ble rovers  ;  the  Doctor,  however,  after  consider- 
ing the  shape  and  disposition  of  the  lodges,  pro- 
nounced it  the  camp  of  some  bold  Delawares, 
who  had  probably  made  a  brief  and  dashing  ex- 
cursion into  these  dangerous  hunting  grounds. 

Having  proceeded  some  distance  farther,  we 
observed  a  couple  of  figures  on  horseback,  slowly 
moving  parallel  to  us  along  the  edge  of  a  naked 
hill  about  two  miles  distant ;  and  apparently  re- 
connoitring us.  There  was  a  halt,  and  much  gaz- 
ing and  conjecturing.  Were  they  Indians  ?  If 
Indians,  were  they  Pawnees  ?  There  is  some- 
thing exciting  to  the  imagination  and  stirring  to 
the  feelings,  while  traversing  these  hostile  plains, 
in  seeing  a  horseman  prowling  along  the  horizon. 
It  is  like  descrying  a  sail  at  sea  in  time  of  war, 
when  it  may  be  either  a  privateer  or  a  pirate. 
Our  conjectures  were  soon  set  at  rest  by  recon- 
noitring the  two  horsemen  through  a  small  spy- 
glass, when  they  proved  to  be  two  of  the  men  we 
had  left  at  the  camp,  who  had  set  out  to  rejoin 
us,  and  had  wandered  from  the  track. 


Our  march  this  day  was  animating  and  delight- 
ful. We  were  in  a  region  of  adventure  ;  break- 
ing our  way  through  a  country  hitherto  untrodden 
by  white  men,  excepting  perchance  by  some  soli- 
tary trapper.  The  weather  was  in  its  perfection, 
temperate,  genial  and  enlivening  ;  a  deep  blue 
sky  with  a  few  light  feathery  clouds,  an  atmos- 
phere of  perfect  transparency,  an  air  pure  and 
bland,  and  a  glorious  country  spreading  out  far 
and  wide  in  the  golden  sunshine  of  an  autumnal 
day  ;  but  all  silent,  lifeless,  without  a  human 
habitation,  and  apparently  without  a  human  in- 
habitant !  It  was  as  if  a  ban  hung  over  this  fair 
but  fated  region.  The  very  Indians  dared  not 
abide  here,  but  made  it  a  mere  scene  of  perilous 
enterprise,  to  hunt  for  a  few  days,  and  then  away. 

After  a  march  of  about  fifteen  miles  west  we 
encamped  in  a  beautiful  peninsula,  made  by  the 
windings  and  doublings  of  a  deep,  clear,  and  al- 
most motionless  brook,  and  covered  by  an  open 
grove  of  lofty  and  magnificent  trees.  Several 
hunters  immediately  started  forth  in  quest  of 
game  before  the  noise  of  the  camp  should  frighten 
it  from  the  vicinity.  Our  man,  Beatte,  also  took 
his  rifle  and  went  forth  alone,  in  a  different  course 
from  the  rest. 

For  my  own  part,  I  laid  on  the  grass  under 
the  trees,  and  built  castles  in  the  clouds,  and  in- 
dulged in  the  very  luxury  of  rural  repose.  Indeed 
I  can  scarcely  conceive  a  kind  of  life  more  calcu- 
lated to  put  both  mind  and  body  in  a  healthful 
tone.  A  morning's  ride  of  several  hourj  diversi- 
fied by  hunting  incidents  ;  an  encampment  in 
the  afternoon  under  some  noble  grove  on  the  bor- 
ders of  a  stream  ;  an  evening  banquet  of  venison, 
fresh  killed,  roasted,  or  broiled  on  the  coals  ;  tur- 
keys just  from  the  thicket's  and  wild  honey  from 
the  trees  ;  and  all  relished  with  an  appetite  un- 
known to  the  gourmets  of  the  cities.  And  at 
night — such  sweet  sleeping  in  the  open  air,  or 
waking  and  gazing  at  the  moon  and  stars,  shining 
between  the  trees ! 

On  the  present  occasion,  however,  we  had  not 
much  reason  to  boast  of  our  larder.  But  one 
deer  had  been  killed  during  the  day,  and  none  of 
that  had  reached  our  lodge.  We  were  fain, 
therefore,  to  stay  our  keen  appetites  by  some 
scraps  of  turkey  brought  from  the  last  encamp- 
ment, eked  out  with  a  slice  or  two  of  salt  pork. 
This  scarcity,  however,  did  not  continue  long. 
Before  dark  a  young  hunter  returned  well  laden 
with  spoil.  He  had  shot  a  deer,  cut  it  up  in  an 
artist-like  style,  and,  putting  the  meat  in  a  kind 
of  sack  made  of  the  hide,  had  slung  it  across  his 
shoulder  and  trudged  with  it  to  camp. 

Not  long  after,  Beatte  made  his  appearance 
with  a  fat  doe  across  his  horse.  It  was  the  first 
game  he  had  brought  in,  and  I  was  glad  to  see 
him  with  a  trophy  that  might  efface  the  memory 
of  the  polecat.  He  laid  the  carcass  down  by  our 
fire  without  saying  a  word,  and  then  turned  to 
unsaddle  his  horse  ;  nor  could  any  questions  from 
us  about  his  hunting  draw  from  him  more  than 
laconic  replies.  If  Beatte,  however,  observed  this 
Indian  taciturnity  about  what  he  had  done, 
Tonish  made  up  for  it  by  boasting  of  what  he 
meant  to  do.  Now  that  we  were  in  a  good  hunt- 
ing country  he  meant  to  take  the  field,  and,  if  wr 
would  take  his  word  for  it,  our  lodge  would  hence- 
forth be  overwhelmed  with  game.  Luckily  this 
talking  did  not  prevent  his  working,  the  doe  was 
skilfully  dissected,  several  fat  ribs  roasted  before 
the  fire,  the  coffee  kettle  replenished,  and  in  a 
little  while  we  were  enabled  to  indemnify  our- 
selves luxuriously  for  our  late  meagre  repast. 


454 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


The  captain  did  not  return  until  late,  and  he 
returned  empty  handed.  He  had  been  in  pur- 
suit of  his  usual  game,  the  deer,  when  he  came 
upon  the  tracks  of  a  gang  of  about  sixty  elk. 
Having  never  killed  an  animal  of  the  kind,  and 
the  elk  being  at  this  moment  an  object  of  ambi- 
tion among  all  the  veteran  hunters  of  the  camp, 
he  abandoned  his  pursuit  of  the  deer,  and  fol- 
lowed the  newly  discovered  track.  After  some 
time  he  came  in  sight  of  the  elk,  and  had  several 
fair  chances  of  a  shot,  but  was  anxious  to  bring 
down  a  large  buck  which  kept  in  the  advance. 
Finding  at  length  there  was  danger  of  the 
whole  gang  escaping  him,  he  fired  at  a  doe. 
The  shot  took  effect,  but  the  animal  had  suffi- 
cient strength  to  keep  on  for  a  time  with  its  com- 
panions. From  the  tracks  of  blood  he  felt  con- 
fident it  was  mortally  wounded,  but  evening  came 
on,  he  could  not  keep  the  trail,  and  had  to  give 
up  the  search  until  morning. 

Old  Ryan  and  his  little  band  had  not  yet  re- 
joined us,  neither  had  our  young  half-breed  An- 
toine  made  his  appearance.  It  was  determined, 
therefore,  to  remain  at  our  encampment  for  the 
following  day,  to  give  time  for  all  stragglers  to 
arrive. 

The  conversation  this  evening,  among  the  old 
huntsmen,  turned  upon  the  Delaware  tribe,  one 
of  whose  encampments  we  had  passed  in  the 
course  of  the  day  ;  and  anecdotes  were  given  of 
their  prowess  in  war  and  dexterity  in  hunting. 
They  used  to  be  deadly  foes  of  the  Osages,  who 
stood  in  great  awe  of  their  desperate  valor,  though 
they  were  apt  to  attribute  it  to  a  whimsical 
cause.  "  Look  at  the  Delawares,"  would  they 
say,  "  dey  got  short  leg — no  can  run — must  stand 
and  fight  a  great  heap."  In  fact  the  Delawares 
are  rather  short  legged,  while  the  Osages  are  re- 
markable for  length  of  limb. 

The  expeditions  of  the  Delawares,  whether  of 
war  or  hunting,  are  wide  and  fearless  ;  a  small 
band  of  them  will  penetrate  far  into  these  dan- 
gerous and  hostile  wilds,  and  will  push  their  en- 
campments even  to  Ihe  Rocky  Mountains.  This 
daring  temper  may  be  in  some  measure  encour- 
aged by  one  of  the  superstitions  of  their  creed. 
They  believe  that  a  guardian  spirit,  in  the  form 
of  a  great  eagle,  watches  over  them,  hovering  in 
the  sky,  far  out  of  sight.  Sometimes,  when  well 
pleased  with  them,  he  wheels  down  into  the  lower 
regions,  and  may  be  seen  circling  with  wide- 
spread winds  against  the  white  clouds  ;  at  such 
times  the  seasons  are  propitious,  the  corn  grows 
finely,  and  they  have  great  success  in  hunting. 
Sometimes,  however,  he  is  angry,  and  then  he 
vents  his  rage  in  the  thunder,  which  is  his  voice, 
and  the  lightning,  which  is  the  flashing  of  his  eye, 
and  strikes  dead  the  object  of  his  displeasure. 

The  Delawares  make  sacrifices  to  this  spirit,  who 
occasionally  lets  drop  a  feather  from  his  wing  in 
token  of  satisfaction.  These  feathers  render  the 
wearer  invisible,  and  invulnerable.  Indeed,  the 
Indians  generally  consider  the  feathers  of  the 
eagle  possessed  of  occult  and  sovereign  virtues. 

At  one  time  a  party  of  the  Delawares,  in  the 
course  of  a  bold  excursion  into  the  Pawnee  hunt- 
ing grounds,  were  surrounded  on  one  of  the  great 
plains,  and  nearly  destroyed.  The  remnant  took 
refuge  on  the  summit  of  one  of  those  isolated 
and  conical  hills  which  rise  almost  like  artificial 
mounds,  from  the  midst  of  the  prairies.  Here 
the  chief  warrior,  driven  almost  to  despair,  sacri- 
ficed his  horse  to  the  tutelar  spirit.  Suddenly 
an  enormous  eagle,  rushing  down  from  the  sky, 
bore  off  the  victim  in  his  talons,  and  mounting 


into  the  air,  dropped  a  quill  feather  from  hi* 
wing.  The  chief  caught  it  up  with  joy,  bound  it 
to  his  forehead,  and,  leading  his  followers  down 
the  hill,  cut  his  way  through  the  enemy  with  great 
slaughter,  and  without  any  one  of  his  party  re- 
ceiving a  wound. 


CHAPTER  XV.     . 
The  Search  for  the  Elk. — Pawnee  S fortes. 

WITH  the  morning  dawn,  the  prime  hunters  of 
the  camp  were  all  on  the  alert,  and  set  off  in  dif- 
ferent directions,  to  beat  up  the  country  for  game. 
The  Captain's  brother,  Sergeant  Bean,  was 
among  the  first,  and  returned  before  breakfast 
with  success,  having  killed  a  fat  doe,  almost 
within  the  purlieus  of  the  camp. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  the  Captain  mounted 
his  horse,  to  go  in  quest  of  the  elk  which  he  had 
wounded  on  the  preceding  evening ;  and  which, 
he  was  persuaded,  had  received  its  death-wound. 
I  determined  to  join  him  in  the  search,  and  we 
accordingly  sallied  forth  together,  accompanied 
also  by  his  brother,  the  sergeant,  and  a  lieuten- 
ant. Two  rangers  followed  on  foot,  to  bring 
home  the  carcass  of  the  doe  which  the  sergeant 
had  killed.  We  had  not  ridden  far,  when  we 
came  to  where  it  lay,  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  in  the 
midst  of  a  beautiful  woodland  scene.  The  two 
rangers  immediately  fell  to  work,  with  true  hunt- 
ers' skill,  to  dismember  it,  and  prepare  it  for 
transportation  to  the  camp,  while  we  continued 
on  our  course.  We  passed  along  sloping  hill- 
sides, among  skirts  of  thicket  and  scattered  forest 
trees,  until  we  came  to  a  place  where  the  long 
herbage  was  pressed  down  with  numerous  elk 
beds.  Here  the  Captain  had  first  roused  the 
gang  of  elks,  and,  after  looking  about  diligently 
for  a  little  while,  he  pointed  out  their  "  trail," 
the  foot-prints  of  which  were  as  large  as  those  of 
horned  cattle.  He  now  put  himself  upon  the 
track,  and  went  quietly  forward,  the  rest  of  us 
following  him  in  Indian  file.  At  length  he  halted 
at  the  place  where  the  elk  had  been  when  shot 
at.  Spots  of  blood  on  the  surrounding  herbage 
showed  that  the  shot  had  been  effective.  The 
wounded  animal  had  evidently  kept  for  some  dis- 
tance with  the  rest  of  the  herd,  as  could  be  seen 
by  sprinklings  of  blood  here  and  there,  on  the 
shrubs  and  weeds  bordering  the  trail.  These  at 
length  suddenly  disappeared.  "  Somewhere  here- 
about," said  the  Captain,  "  the  elk  must  have 
turned  off  from  the  gang.  Whenever  they  feel 
themselves  mortally  wounded,  they  will  turn 
aside,  and  seek  some  out-of-the-way  place  to  die 
alone." 

There  was  something  in  this  picture  of  the  last 
moments  of  a  wounded  deer,  to  touch  the  sym- 
pathies of  one  not  hardened  to  the  gentle  dis- 
ports of  the  chase  ;  such  sympathies,  however, 
are  but  transient.  Man  is  naturally  an  animal 
of  prey  ;  and,  however  changed  by  civilization, 
will  readily  relapse  into  his  instinct  for  destruc- 
tion. I  found  my  ravenous  and  sanguinary  pro- 
pensities daily  growing  stronger  upon  the  prairies. 

After  looking  about  for  a  little  while,  the  Cap- 
tain succeeded  in  finding  the  separate  trail  of  the 
wounded  elk,  which  turned  off  almost  at  right 
angles  from  that  of  the  herd,  and  entered  an  open 
forest  of  scattered  trees.  The  traces  of  blood 
became  more  faint  and  rare,  and  occurred  at 
greater  distances :  at  length  they  ceased  alto- 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


455 


gether,  and  the  ground  was  so  hard,  and  the 
herbage  so  much  parched  and  withered,  that  the 
foot-prints  of  the  animal  could  no  longer  be  per- 
ceived. 

"  The  elk  must  lie  somewhere  in  this  neigh- 
borhood," said  the  Captain,  "  as  you  may  know 
by  those  turkey-buzzards  wheeling  about  in  the 
air  :  for  they  always  hover  in  that  way  above 
some  carcass.  However,  the  dead  elk  cannot 
get  away,  so  let  us  follow  the  trail  of  the  living 
ones  :  they  may  have  halted  at  no  great  distance, 
and  we  may  find  them  grazing,  and  get  another 
crack  at  them." 

We  accordingly  returned,  and  resumed  the 
trail  of  the  elks,  which  led  us  a  straggling  course 
over  hill  and  dale,  covered  with  scattered  oaks. 
Every  now  and  then  we  would  catch  a  glimpse  of 
a  deer  bounding  away  across  some  glade  of  the 
forest,  but  the  Captain  was  not  to  be  diverted 
from  his  elk  hunt  by  such  inferior  game.  A  large 
flock  of  wild  turkeys,  too,  were  roused  by  the 
trampling  of  our  horses  ;  some  scampered  off  as 
fast  as  their  long  legs  could  carry  them  ;  others 
fluttered  up  into  the  trees,  where  they  remained 
with  outstretched  necks,  gazing  at  us.  The  Cap- 
tain would  not  allow  a  rifle  to  be  discharged  at 
them,  lest  it  should  alarm  the  elk,  which  he  hoped 
to  find  in  the  vicinity.  At  length  we  came  to 
where  the  forest  ended  in  a  steep  bank,  and  the 
Red  Fork  wound  its  way  below  us,  between  broad 
sandy  shores.  The  trail  descended  the  bank,  and 
we  could  trace  it,  with  our  eyes,  across  the  level 
sands,  until  it  terminated  in  the  river,  which,  it 
was  evident,  the  gang  had  forded  on  the  preced- 
ing evening. 

"  It  is  needless  to  follow  on  any  farther,"  said 
the  Captain.  "  The  elk  must  have  been  much 
frightened,  and,  after  crossing  the  river,  may 
have  kept  on  for  twenty  miles  without  stopping." 

Our  little  party  now  divided,  the  lieutenant 
and  sergeant  making  a  circuit  in  quest  of  game, 
and  the  Captain  and  myself  taking  the  direction 
of  the  camp.  On  our  way,  we  came  to  a  buffalo 
track,  more  than  a  year  old.  It  was  not  wider 
than  an  ordinary  footpath,  and  worn  deep  into 
the  soil ;  for  these  animals  follow  each  other  in 
single  file.  Shortly  afterward,  we  met  two 
rangers  on  foot,  hunting.  They  had  wounded  an 
elk,  but  he  had  escaped  ;  and  in  pursuing  him, 
had  found  the  one  shot  by  the  Captain  on  the 
preceding  evening.  They  turned  back,  and  con- 
ducted us  to  it.  It  was  a  noble  animal,  as  large 
as  a  yearling  heifer,  and  lay  in  an  open  part  of 
the  forest,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant  from 
the  place  where  it  had  been  shot.  The  turkey- 
buzzards,  which  we  had  previously  noticed,  were 
wheeling  in  the  air  above  it.  The  observation  of 
the  Captain  seemed  verified.  The  poor  animal, 
as  life  was  ebbing  away,  had  apparently  aban- 
doned its  unhurt  companions,  and  turned  aside 
to  die  alone. 

The  Captain  and  the  two  rangers  forthwith  fell 
to  work,  with  their  hunting-knives,  to  flay  and 
cut  up  the  carcass.  It  was  already  tainted  on  the 
inside,  but  ample  collops  were  cut  from  the  ribs 
and  haunches,  and  'laid  in  a  heap  on  the  out- 
stretched hide.  Holes  were  then  cut  along  the 
border  of  the  hide,  raw  thongs  were  passed 
through  them,  and  the  whole  drawn  up  like  a 
sack,  which  was  swung  behind  the  Captain's  sad- 
dle. All  this  while,  the  turkey-buzzards  were 
soaring  overhead,  waiting  for  our  departure,  to 
swoop  down  and  banquet  on  the  carcass. 

The  wreck  of  the  poor  elk  being  thus  disman- 
tled, the  Captain  and  myself  mounted  our  horses, 


and  jogged  back  to  the  camp,  while  the  two  ran- 
gers resumed  their  hunting. 

On  reaching  the  camp,  I  found  there  our  young 
half-breed,  Antoine.  After separatingfromBeatte, 
in  the  search  after  the  stray  horses  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Arkansas,  he  had  fallen  upon  a  wrong 
track,  which  he  followed  for  several  miles,  when 
he  overtook  old  Ryan  and  his  party,  and  found 
he  had  been  following  their  traces. 

They  all  forded  the  Arkansas  about  eight  miles 
above  our  crossing  place,  and  found  their  way  to 
our  late  encampment  in  the  glen,  where  the  rear- 
guard we  had  left  behind  was  waiting  for  them. 
Antoine,  being  well  mounted,  and  somewhat  im- 
patient to  rejoin  us,  had  pushed  on  alone,  follow- 
ing our  trail,  to  our.  present  encampment,  and 
bringing  the  carcass  of  a  young  bear  which  he 
had  killed. 

Our  camp,  during  the  residue  of  the  day,  pre- 
sented a  mingled  picture  of  bustle  and  repose. 
Some  of  the  men  were  busy  round  the  fires,  jerk- 
ing and  roasting  venison  and  bear's  meat,  to  be 
packed  up  as  a  future  supply.  Some  were  stretch- 
ing and  dressing  the  skins  of  the  animals  they  had 
killed  ;  others  were  washing  their  clothes  in  the 
brook,  and  hanging  them  on  the  bushes  to  dry  ; 
while  many  were  lying  on  the  grass,  and  lazily 
gossiping  in  the  shade.  Every  now  and  then  a 
hunter  would  return,  on  horseback  or  on  foot, 
laden  with  game,  or  empty  handed.  Those  who 
brought  home  any  spoil,  deposited  it  at  the  Cap- 
tain's fire,  and  then  filed  off  to  their  respective 
messes,  to  relate  their  day's  exploits  to  their  com- 
panions. The  game  killed  at  this  camp  consisted 
of  six  deer,  one  elk,  two  bears,  and  six  or  eight 
turkeys. 

During  the  last  two  or  three  days,  since  their 
wild  Indian  achievement  in  navigating  the  river, 
our  retainers  had  risen  in  consequence  among  the 
rangers  ;  and  now  I  found  Tonish  making  him- 
self a  complete  oracle  among  some  of  the  raw  and 
inexperienced  recruits,  who  had  never  been  in  the 
wilderness..  He  had  continually  a  knot  hanging 
about  him,  and  listening  to  his  extravagant  tales 
about  the  Pawnees,  with  whom  he  pretended  to 
have  had  fearful  encounters.  His  representa- 
tions, in  fact,  were  calculated  to  inspire  his  hear- 
ers with  an  awful  idea  of  the  foe  into  whose  lands 
they  were  intruding.  According  to  his  accounts, 
the  rifle  of  the  white  man  was  no  match  for  the 
bow  and  arrow  of  the  Pawnee.  When  the  rifle 
was  once  discharged,  it  took  time  and  trouble  to 
load  it  again,  and.  in  the  meantime  the  enemy 
could  keep  on  launching  his  shafts  as  fast  as  he 
could  draw  his  bow.  Then  the  Pawnee,  accord- 
ing to  Tonish,  could  shoot  with  unerring  aim, 
three  hundred  yards,  and  send  his  arrow  clean 
through  and  through  a  buffalo  ;  nay,  he  had 
known  a  Pawnee  shaft  pass  through  one  buffalo 
and  wound  another.  And  then  the  way  the  Paw- 
nees sheltered  themselves  from  the  shots  of  their 
enemy  :  they  would  hang  with  one  leg  over  the 
saddle,  crouching  their  bodies  along  the  opposite 
side  of  their  horse,  and  would  shoot  their  arrows 
from  under  his  neck,  while  at  full  speed ! 

If  Tonish  was  to  be  believed,  there  was  peril 
at  every  step  in  these  debatable  grounds  of  the 
Indian  tribes.  Pawnees  lurked  unseen  among 
the  thickets  and  ravines.  They  had  their  scouts 
and  sentinels  on  the  summit  of  the  mounds  which 
command  a  view  over  the  prairies,  where  they  lay 
crouched  in  the  tall  grass  ;  only  now  and  then 
raising  their  heads  to  watch  the  movements  of 
any  war  or  hunting  party  that  might  be  passing 
in  lengthened  line  below.  At  night,  they  would 


456 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


lurk  round  an  encampment ;  crawling  through  the 
grass,  and  imitating  the  movements  of  a  wolf,  so 
as  to  deceive  the  sentinel  on  the  outpost,  until, 
having  arrived  sufficiently  near,  they  would  speed 
an  arrow  through  his  heart,  and  retreat  undis- 
covered. In  telling  his  stories,  Tonish  would  ap- 
peal from  time  to  time  to  Beatte,  for  the  truth  of 
what  he  said  ;  the  only  reply  would  be  a  nod  or 
shrug  of  the  shoulders  ;  the  latter  being  divided 
in  mind  between  a  distaste  for  the  gasconading 
spirit  of  his  comrade,  and  a  sovereign  contempt 
for  the  inexperience  of  the  young  rangers  in  all 
that  he  considered  true  knowledge. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

A  Sick  Camp. —  The  March.— The  Disabled  Horse.— Old 
Ryan  and  the  Stragglers. — Symptoms  of  Change  of 
Weather,  and  Change  of  Humors. 

OCTOBER  i8TH. — We  prepared  to  march  at  the 
usual  hour,  but  word  was  brought  to  the  Captain 
that  three  of  the  rangers,  who  had  been  attacked 
with  the  measles,  were  unable  to  proceed,  and  that 
another  one  was  missing.  The  last  was  an  old 
frontiersman,  by  the  name  of  Sawyer,  who  had 
gained  years  without  experience ;  and  having 
sallied  forth  to  hunt,  on  the  preceding  day,  had 
probably  lost  his  way  on  the  prairies.  A  guard 
of  ten  men  was,  therefore,  to  take  care  of  the  sick, 
and  wait  for  the  straggler.  If  the  former  re- 
covered sufficiently  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
days,  they  were  to  rejoin  the  main  body,  other- 
wise to  be  escorted  back  to  the  garrison. 

Taking  our  leave  of  the  sick  camp,  we  shaped 
our  course  westward,  along  the  heads  of  small 
streams,  all  wandering,  in  deep  ravines,  toward 
the  Red  Fork.  The  land  was  high  and  undu- 
lating, or  "  rolling,"  as  it  is  termed  in  the  West ; 
with  a  poor  hungry  soil  mingled  with  the  sand- 
stone, which  is  unusual  in  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try, and  checkered  with  harsh  forests  of  post-oak 
and  black-jack. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  I  received  a  les- 
son on  the  importance  of  being  chary  of  one's 
steed  on  the  prairies  The  one  I  rode  on  sur- 
passed in  action  most  horses  of  the  troop,  and 
was  of  great  mettle  and  a  generous  spirit.  In 
crossing  the  deep  ravines,  he  would  scramble  up 
the  steep  banks  like  a  cat,  and  was  always  for 
leaping  the  narrow  runs  of  water.  I  was  not 
aware  of  the  imprudence  of  indulging  him  in  such 
exertions,  until,  in  leaping  him  across  a  small 
brook,  I  felt  him  immediately  falter  beneath  me. 
He  limped  forward  a  short  distance,  but  soon  fell 
stark  lame,  having  sprained  his  shoulder.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  He  could  not  keep  up  with  the 
troop,  and  was  too  valuable  to  be  abandoned  on 
the  prairie.  The  only  alternative  was  to  send 
him  back  to  join  the  invalids  in  the  sick  camp, 
and  to  share  their  fortunes.  Nobody,  however, 
seemed  disposed  to  lead  him  back,  although  I 
offered  a  liberal  reward.  Either  the  stories  of 
Tonish  about  the  Pawnees  had  spread  an  appre- 
hension of  lurking  foes,  and  imminent  perils  on 
the  prairies  ;  or  there  was  a  fear  of  missing  the 
trail  and  getting  lost.  At  length  two  young  men 
stepped  forward  and  agreed  to  go  in  company,  so 
that,  should  they  be  benighted  on  the  prairies, 
there  might  be  one  to  watch  while  the  other 
slept. 

The  horse  was  accordingly  consigned  to  their 


care,  and  I  looked  after  him  with  a  rueful  eye,  as 
he  limped  off,  for  it  seemed  as  if,  with  him,  all 
strength  and  buoyancy  had  departed  from  me. 

I  looked  round  for  a  steed  to  supply  his  place, 
and  fixed  my  eyes  upon  the  gallant  gray  which  I 
had  transferred  at  the  Agency  to  Tonish.  The 
moment,  however,  that  1  hinted  about  his  dis- 
mounting and  taking  up  with  the  supernumerary 
pony,  the  little  varlet  broke  out  into  vociferous 
remonstrances  and  lamentations,  gasping  and 
almost  strangling,  in  his  eagerness  to  give  vent 
to  them.  I  saw  that  to  unhorse  him  would  be  to 
prostrate  his  spirit  and  cut  his  vanity  to  the  quick. 
I  had  not  the  heart  to  inflict  such  a  wound,  or  to 
bring  down  the  poor  devil  from  his  transient  vain- 
glory ;  so  I  left  him  in  possession  of  his  gallant 
gray  ;  and  contented  myself  with  shifting  my 
saddle  to  the  jaded  pony. 

I  was  now  sensible  of  the  complete  reverse  to 
which  a  horseman  is  exposed  on  the  prairies.  I 
felt  how  completely  the  spirit  of  the  rider  de- 
pended upon  his  steed.  I  had  hitherto  been  able 
to  make  excursions  at  will  from  the  line,  and  to 
gallop  in  pursuit  of  any  object  of  interest  or  curi- 
osity. I  was  now  reduced  to  the  tone  of  the  jaded 
animal  I  bestrode,  and  doomed  to  plod  on  pa- 
tiently and  slowly  after  my  file  leader.  Above 
all,  I  was  made  conscious  how  unwise  it  is,  on 
expeditions  of  the  kind,  where  a  man's  life  may 
depend  upon  the  strength,  and  speed,  and  fresh- 
ness of  his  horse,  to  task  the  generous  animal  by 
any  unnecessary  exertion  of  his  powers. 

I  have  observed  that  the  wary  and  experienced 
huntsmen  and  traveller  of  the  prairies  is  always 
sparing  of  his  horse,  when  on  a  journey  ;  never, 
except  in  emergency,  putting  him  off  of  a  walk. 
The  regular  journeyings  of  frontiersmen  and  In- 
dians, when  on  a  long  march,  seldom  exceed 
above  fifteen  miles  a  day,  and  are  generally  about 
ten  or  twelve,  and  they  never  indulge  in  capricious 
galloping.  Many  of  those,  however,  with  whom 
I  was  travelling  were  young  and  inexperienced, 
and  full  of  excitement  at  finding  themselves  in  a 
country  abounding  with  game.  It  was  impossible 
to  retain  them  in  the  sobriety  of  a  march,  or  to 
keep  them  to  the  line.  As  we  broke  our  way 
through  the  coverts  and  ravines,  and  the  deer 
started  up  and  scampered  off  to  the  right  and 
left,  the  rifle  balls  would  whiz  after  them,  and  our 
young  hunters  dash  off  in  pursuit.  At  one  time 
they  made  a  grand  burst  after  what  they  supposed 
to  be  a  gang  of  bears,  but  soon  pulled  up  on  dis- 
covering them  to  be  black  wolves,  prowling  in 
company. 

After  a  march  of  about  twelve  miles  we  en- 
camped, a  little  after  mid-day,  on  the  borders  of 
a  brook  which  loitered  through  a  deep  ravine. 
In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  old  Ryan,  the 
Nestor  of  the  camp,  made  his  appearance,  fol- 
lowed by  his  little  band  of  stragglers.  He  was 
greeted  with  joyful  acclamations,  which  showed 
the  estimation  in  which  he  was  held  by  his 
brother  woodmen.  The  little  band  came  laden 
with  venison  ;  a  fine  haunch  of  which  the  vet- 
eran hunter  laid,  as  a  present,  by  the  Captain's 
fire. 

Our  men,  Beatte  and  Tonish.  both  sallied  forth, 
early  in  the  afternoon,  to  hunt.  Toward  even- 
ing the  former  returned,  with  a  fine  buck  across 
his  horse.  He  laid  it  down,  as  usual,  in  silence, 
and  proceeded  to  unsaddle  and  turn  his  horse 
loose.  Tonish  came  back  without  any  game,  but 
with  much  more  glory ;  having  made  several 
capital  shots,  though  unluckily  the  wounded  deer 
had  all  escaped  him. 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


457 


There  was  an  abundant  supply  of  meat  in  the 
camp  ;  for,  besides  other  game,  three  elk  had 
been  killed.  The  wary  and  veteran  woodmen 
were  all  busy  jerking  meat  against  a  time  of 
scarcity  ;  the  less  experienced  revelled  in  present 
abundance,  leaving  the  morrow  to  provide  for 
itself. 

On  the  following  morning  (October  igth),  I 
succeeded  in  changing  my  pony  and  a  reasonable 
sum  of  money  for  a  strong  and  active  horse.  It 
was  a  great  satisfaction  to  find  myself  once  more 
tolerably  well  mounted.  I  perceived,  however, 
that  there  would  be  little  difficulty  in  making  a 
selection  from  among  the  troop,  for  the  rangers 
had  all  that  propensity  for  "  swapping,"  or,  as 
they  term  it,  "  trading,"  which  pervades  the 
West.  In  the  course  of  our  expedition,  there  was 
scarcely  a  horse,  rifle,  powder-horn,  or  blanket, 
that  did  not  change  owners  several  times  ;  and 
one  keen  "  trader"  boasted  of  having,  by  dint 
of  frequent  bargains,  changed  a  bad  horse  into 
a  good  one,  and  put  a  hundred  dollars  in  his 
pocket: 

The  morning  was  lowering  and  sultry,  with  low 
muttering  of  distant  thunder.  The  change  of 
weather  had  its  effect  upon  the  spirits  of  the 
troop.  The  camp  was  unusually  sober  and  quiet ; 
there  was  none  of  the  accustomed  farmyard 
melody  of  crowing  and  cackling  at  daybreak ; 
none  of  the  bursts  of  merriment,  the  loud  jokes 
and  banterings,  that  had  commonly  prevailed 
during  the  bustle  of  equipment.  Now  and  then 
might  be  heard  a  short  strain  of  a  song,  a  faint 
laugh,  or  a  solitary  whistle ;  but,  in  general, 
every  one  went  silently  and  doggedly  about  the 
duties  of  the  camp,  or  the  preparations  for  de- 
parture. 

When  the  time  arrived  to  saddle  and  mount, 
five  horses  were  reported  as  missing ;  although 
all  the  woods  and  thickets  had  been  beaten  up 
for  some  distance  round  the  camp.  Several 
rangers  were  dispatched  to  "skir"  the  country 
round  in  quest  of  them.  In  the  meantime,  the 
thunder  continued  to  growl,  and  we  had  a  pass- 
ing shower.  The  horses,  like  their  riders,  were 
affected  by  the  change  of  weather.  They'  stood 
here  and  there  about  the  camp,  some  saddled 
and  bridled,  others  loose,  but  all  spiritless  and 
dozing,  with  stooping  head,  one  hind  leg  partly 
drawn  up  so  as  to  rest  on  the  point  of  the  hoof, 
and  the  whole  hide  reeking  with  the  rain,  and 
sending  up  wreaths  of  vapor.  The  men,  too, 
waited  in  listless  groups  the  return  of  their  com- 
rades who  had  gone  in  quest  of  the  horses  ;  now 
and  then  turning  up  an  anxious  eye  to  the  drifting 
clouds,  which  boded  an  approaching  storm. 
Gloomy  weather  inspires  gloomy  thoughts.  Some 
expressed  fears  that  we  were  dogged  by  some 
party  of  Indians,  who  had  stolen  the  horses  in 
the  night.  The  most  prevalent  apprehension, 
however,  was,  that  they  had  returned  on  their 
traces  to  our  last  encampment,  or  had  started  off 
on  a  direct  line  for  Fort  Gibson.  In  this  respect, 
the  instinct  of  horses  is  said  to  resemble  that  of 
the  pigeon.  They  will  strike  for  home  by  a 
direct  course,  passing  through  tracts  of  wilder- 
ness which  they  have  never  before  traversed. 

After  delaying  until  the  morning  was  somewhat 
advanced,  a  lieutenant  with  a  guard  was  appointed 
to  await  the  return  of  the  rangers,  and  we  set  off 
on  our  day's  journey,  considerably  reduced  in 
numbers  ;  much,  as  I  thought,  to  the  discom- 
posure of  some  of  the  troop,  who  intimated  that 
we  might  prove  too  weak-handed,  in  case  of  an 
encounter  with  the  Pawnees.  > 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


Thunder-Storm  on  the  Prairies. — The  Storm  Encamp- 
ment.— Night  Scene. — Indian  Stories. — A  Fright- 
ened Horse. 


OUR  march  for  a  part  of  the  day,  lay  a  little  to 
the  south  of  west,  through  straggling  forests  of 
the  kind  of  low  scrubbed  trees  already  mentioned, 
called  "  post-oaks,"  and  "  black-jacks."  The 
soil  of  these  "  oak  barrens  "  is  loose  and  unsound  ; 
being  little  better  at  times  than  a  mere  quicksand, 
in  which,  in  rainy  weather,  the  horse's  hoof  slips 
from  side  to  side,  and  now  and  then  sinks  in  a 
rotten,  spongy  turf,  to  the  fetlock.  Such  was  the1 
case  at  present  in  consequence  of  successive 
thunder-showers,  through  which  we  draggled  along 
in  dogged  silence.  Several  deer  were  roused  by 
our  approach,  and  scudded  across  the  forest 
glades  ;  but  no  one,  as  formerly,  broke  the  line 
of  march  to  pursue  them.  At  one  time,  we 
passed  the  bones  and  horns  of  a  buffalo,  and  at 
another  time  a  buffalo  track,  not  above  three 
days  old.  These  signs  of  the  vicinity  of  this 
grand  game  of  the  prairies,  had  a  reviving  effect 
on  the  spirits  of  our  huntsmen ;  but  it  was  of 
transient  duration. 

In  crossing  a  prairie  of  moderate  extent,  ren- 
dered little  better  than  a  slippery  bog  by  the  re- 
cent showers,  we  were  overtaken  by  a  violent 
thunder-gust.  The  rain  came  rattling  upon  us  in 
torrents,  and  spattered  up  like  steam  along  the 
ground ;  the  whole  landscape  was  suddenly 
wrapped  in  gloom  that  gave  a  vivid  effect  to  the 
intense  sheets  of  lightning,  while  the  thunder 
seemed  to  burst  over  our  very  heads,  and  was 
reverberated  by  the  groves  and  forests  that 
checkered  and  skirted  the  prairie.  Man  and 
beast  were  so  pelted,  drenched,  and  confounded, 
that  the  line  was  thrown  in  complete  confusion ; 
some  of  the  horses  were  so  frightened  as  to  be 
almost  unmanageable,  and  our  scattered  caval- 
cade looked  like  a  tempest-tossed  fleet,  driven 
hither  and  thither,  at  the  mercy  of  wind  and 
wave. 

At  length,  at  half  past  two  o'clock,  we  came  to 
a  halt,  and  gathering  together  our  forces,  en- 
camped in  an  open  and  lofty  grove,  with  a  prairie 
on  one  side  and  a  stream  on  the  other.  The 
forest  immediately  rang  with  the  sound  of  the 
axe,  and  the  crash  of  falling  trees.  Huge  fires 
were  soon  blazing  ;  blankets  were  stretched  be- 
fore them,  by  way  of  tents  ;  booths  were  hastily 
reared  of  bark  and  skins  ;  every  fire  had  its 
group  drawn  close  round  it,  drying  and  warming 
themselves,  or  preparing  a  comforting  meal. 
Some  of  the  rangers  were  discharging  and  clean- 
ing their  rifles,  which  had  been  exposed  to  the 
rain  ;  while  the  horses,  relieved  from  their  sad- 
dles and  burdens,  rolled  in  the  wet  grass. 

The  showers  continued  from  time  to  time,  until 
late  in  the  evening.  Before  dark,  our  horses 
were  gathered  in  and  tethered  about  the  skirts  of 
the  camp,  within  the  outposts,  through  fear  of 
Indian  prowlers,  who  are  apt  to  take  advantage 
of  stormy  nights  for  their  depredations  and  as- 
saults. As  the  night  thickened,  the  huge  fires 
became  more  and  more  luminous  ;  lighting  up 
masses  of  the  overhanging  foliage,  and  leaving 
other  parts  of  the  grove  in  deep  gloom.  Every 
fire  had  its  goblin  group  around  it,  while  the  teth- 
ered horses  were  dimly  seen,  like  spectres, 
among  the  thickets ;  excepting  that  here  and 
there  a  gray  one  stood  out  in  bright  relief. 

The  grove,  thus  fitfully  lighted  up  by  the  ruddy 


458 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


glare  of  the  fires,  resembled  a  vast  leafy  dome, 
walled  in  by  opaque  darkness  ;  but  every  now 
and  then  two  or  three  quivering  flashes  of  light- 
ning in  quick  succession,  would  suddenly  reveal 
avast  champaign  country,  where  fields  and  forests, 
and  running  streams,  would  start,  as  it  were,  into 
existence  for  a  few  brief  seconds,  and,  before  the 
eye  could  ascertain  them,  vanish  again  into 
gloom. 

A  thunder-storm  on  a  prairie,  as  upon  the 
ocean,  derives  grandeur  and  sublimity  from  the 
wild  and  boundless  waste  over  which  it  rages  and 
bellows.  It  is  not  surprising  that  these  awful 
phenomena  of  nature  should  be  objects  of  super- 
stitious reverence  to  the  poor  savages,  and  that 
they  should  consider  the  thunder  the  angry  voice 
of  the  Great  Spirit.  As  our  half-breeds  sat  gos- 
siping round  the  fire,  I  drew  from  them  some  of 
the  notions  entertained  on  the  subject  by  their 
Indian  friends.  The  latter  declare  that  extin- 
guished thunderbolts  are  sometimes  picked  up 
by  hunters  on  the  prairies,  who  use  them  for  the 
heads  of  arrows  and  lances,  and  that  any  warrior 
thus  armed  is  invincible.  Should  a  thunder- 
storm occur,  however,  during  battle,  he  is  liable 
to  be  carried  away  by  the  thunder,  and  never 
heard  of  more. 

A  warrior  of  the  Konza  tribe,  hunting  on  a 
prairie,  was  overtaken  by  a  storm,  and  struck 
down  senseless  by  the  thunder.  On  recovering, 
he  beheld  the  thunderbolt  lying  on  the  ground, 
and  a  horse  standing  beside  it.  Snatching  up 
the  bolt,  he  sprang  upon  the  horse,  but  found, 
too  late,  that  he  was  astride  of  the  lightning.  In 
an  instant  he  was  whisked  away  over  prairies  and 
forests,  and  streams  and  deserts,  until  he  was 
flung  senseless  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains ;  whence,  on  recovering,  it  took  him  several 
months  to  return  to  his  own  people. 

This  story  reminded  me  of  an  Indian  tradition, 
related  by  a  traveller,  of  the  fate  of  a  warrior  who 
saw  the  thunder  lying  upon  the  ground,  with  a 
beautifully  wrought  moccason  on  each  side  of  it. 
Thinking  he  had  found  a  prize,  he  put  on  the 
moccasons  ;  but  they  bore  him  away  to  the  land 
of  spirits,  whence  he  never  returned. 

These  are  simple  and  artless  tales,  but  they 
had  a  wild  and  romantic  interest  heard  from  the 
lips  of  half-savage  narrators,  round  a  hunter's 
fire,  on  a  stormy  night,  with  a  forest  on  one  side, 
and  a  howling  waste  on  the  other  ;  and  where, 
peradventure,  savage  foes  might  be  lurking  in  the 
outer  darkness. 

Our  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  loud 
clap  of  thunder,  followed  immediately  by  the 
sound  of  a  horse  galloping  off  madly  into  the 
waste.  Every  one  listened  in  mute  silence.  The 
hoofs  resounded  vigorously  for  a  time,  but  grew 
fainter  and  fainter,  until  they  died  away  in  re- 
mote distance. 

When  the  sound  was  no  longer  to  be  heard, 
the  listeners  turned  to  conjecture  what  could 
have  caused  this  sudden  scamper.  Some  thought 
the  horse  had  been  startled  by  the  thunder ; 
others,  that  some  lurking  Indian  had  galloped  off 
with  him.  To  this  it  was  objected,  that  the 
usual  mode  with  the  Indians  is  to  steal  quietly 
upon  the  horse,  take  off  his  fetters,  mount  him 
gently,  and  walk  him  off  as  silently  as  possible, 
leading  off  others,  without  any  unusual  stir  or 
noise  to  disturb  the  camp. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  was  stated  as  a  common 
practice  with  the  Indians,  to  creep  among  a 
troop  of  horses  when  grazing  at  night,  mount  one 
quietly,  and.  then  start  off  suddenly  at  full  speed. 


Nothing  is  so  contagious  among  horses  as  a 
panic  ;  one  sudden  break-away  of  this  kind,  will 
sometimes  alarm  the  whole  troop,  and  they  will 
set  off,  helter-skelter,  after  the  leader. 

Every  one  who  had  a  horse  grazing  on  the 
skirts  of  the  camp  was  uneasy,  lest  his  should  be 
the  fugitive  ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  ascertain 
the  fact  until  morning.  Those  who  had  tethered 
their  horses  felt  more  secure  ;  though  horses  thus 
tied  up,  and  limited  to  a  short  range  at  night, 
are  apt  to  fall  off  in  flesh  and  strength,  during  a 
long  march  ;  and  many  of  the  horses  of  the 
troop  already  gave  signs  of  being  wayworn. 

After  a  gloomy  and  unruly  night,  the  morning 
dawned  bright  and  clear,  and  a  glorious  sunrise 
transformed  the  whole  landscape,  as  if  by  magic. 
The  late  dreary  wilderness  brightened  into  a  fine 
open  country,  with  stately  groves,  and  clumps  of 
oaks  of  a  gigantic  size,  some  of  which  stood  sin- 
gly, as  if  planted  for  ornament  and  shade,  in  the 
midst  of  rich  meadows  ;  while  our  horses,  scat- 
tered about,  and  grazing  under  them,  gave  to  the 
whole  the  air  of  a  noble  park.  It  was  difficult  to 
realize  the  fact  that  we  were  so  far  in  the  wilds 
beyond  the  residence  of  man.  Our  encampment, 
alone,  had  a  savage  appearance  ;  with  its  rude 
tents  of  skins  and  blankets,  and  its  columns  of 
blue  smoke  rising  among  the  trees. 

The  first  care  in  the  morning,  was  to  look  after 
our  horses.  Some  of  them  had  wandered  to  a 
distance,  but  all  were  fortunately  found  ;  even 
the  one  whose  clattering  hoofs  had  caused  such 
uneasiness  in  the  night.  He  had  come  to  a  halt 
about  a  mile  from  the  camp,  and  was  found 
quietly  grazing  near  a  brook.  The  bugle  sounded 
for  departure  about  half-past  eight.  As  we  were 
in  greater  risk  of  Indian  molestation  the  farther 
we  advanced,  our  line  was  formed  with  more  pre- 
cision than  heretofore.  Every  one  had  his  sta- 
tion assigned  him,  and  was  forbidden  to  leave  it 
in  pursuit  of  game,  without  special  permission. 
The  pack-horses  were  placed  in  the  centre  of  the 
line,  and  a  strong  guard  in  the  rear. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  Grand  Prairie.— Cliff  Castle.— Buffalo   Tracks.— Deer 
Hunted  by    Wolves. — Cross   Timber. 

AFTER  a  toilsome  march  of  some  distance  through 
a  country  cut  up  by  ravines  and  brooks,  and  en- 
tangled by  thickets,  we  emerged  upon  a  grand 
prairie.  Here  one  of  the  characteristic  scenes 
of  the  Far  West  broke  upon  us.  An  immense 
extent  of  grassy,  undulating,  or,  as  it  is  termed, 
rolling  country,  with  here  and  there  a  clump  of 
trees,  dimly  seen  in  the  distance  like  a  ship  at 
sea ;  the  landscape  deriving  sublimity  from  its 
vastness  and  simplicity.  To  the  southwest,  on 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  was  a  singular  crest  of 
broken  rocks,  resembling  a  ruined  fortress.  It 
reminded  me  of  the  ruin  of  some  Moorish  casrie, 
crowning  a  height  in  the  midst  of  a  lonely  Span- 
ish landscape.  To  this  hill  we  gave  the  name  of 
Cliff  Castle. 

The  prairies  of  these  great  hunting  regions  dif- 
fered in  the  character  of  their  vegetation  from 
those  through  which  I  had  hitherto  passed.  In- 
stead of  a  profusion  of  tall  flowering  plants  and 
long  flaunting  grasses,  they  were  covered  with  a 
shorter  growth  of  herbage  called  buffalo  grass, 
somewhat  coarse,  but,  at  the  proper  seasons,  af« 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


459 


fording  excellent  and  abundant  pasturage.  At 
present  it  was  growing  wiry,  and  in  many  places 
was  too  much  parched  for  grazing. 

The  weather  was  verging  into  that  serene  but 
somewhat  arid  season  called  the  Indian  Summer. 
There  was  a  smoky  haze  in  the  atmosphere  that 
tempered  the  brightness  of  the  sunshine  into  a 
golden  tint,  softening  the  features  of  the  land- 
scape, and  giving  a  vagueness  to  the  outlines  of 
distant  objects.  This  haziness  was  daily  increas- 
ing, and  was  attributed  to  the  burning  of  distant 
prairies  by  the  Indian  hunting  parties. 

We  had  not  gone  far  upon  the  prairie  before 
we  came  to  where  deeply  worn  footpaths  were 
seen  traversing  the  country  :  sometimes  two  or 
three  would  keep  on  parallel  to  each  other,  and 
but  a  few  paces  apart.  These  were  pronounced 
to  be  traces  of  buffaloes,  where  large  droves 
had  passed.  There  were  tracks  also  of  horses, 
which  were  observed  with  some  attention  by  our 
experienced  hunters.  They  could  not  be  the 
tracks  of  wild  horses,  as  there  were  no  prints  of 
the  hoofs  of  colts  ;  all  were  full-grown.  As  the 
horses  evidently  were  not  shod,  it  was  concluded 
they  must  belong  to  some  hunting  party  of 
Pawnees.  In  the  course  of  the  morning,  the 
tracks  of  a  single  horse,  with  shoes,  were  discov- 
ered. This  might  be  the  horse  of  a  Cherokee 
hunter,  or  perhaps  a  horse  stolen  from  the  whites 
of  the  frontier.  Thus,  in  traversing  these  peril- 
ous wastes,  every  footprint  and  dint  of  hoof  be- 
comes matter  of  cautious  inspection  and  shrewd 
surmise  ;  and  the  question  continually  is,  whether 
it  be  the  trace  of  friend  or  foe,  whether  of  recent 
or  ancient  date,  and  whether  the  being  that 
made  it  be  out  of  reach,  or  liable  to  be  encoun- 
tered. 

We  were  getting  more  and  more  into  the  game 
country  :  as  we  proceeded,  we  repeatedly  saw 
deer  to  the  right  and  left,  bounding  off  for  the 
coverts ;  but  their  appearance  no  longer  excited 
the  same  eagerness  to  pursue.  In  passing  along 
a  slope  of  the  prairie,  between  two  rolling  swells 
of  land,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  genuine  natural 
hunting  match.  A  pack  of  seven  black  wolves 
and  one  white  one  were  in  full  chase  of  a  buck, 
which  they  had  nearly  tired  down.  They  crossed 
the  line  of  our  march  without  apparently  perceiv- 
ing us ;  we  saw  them  have  a  fair  run  of  nearly 
a  mile,  gaining  upon  the  buck  until  they  were 
leaping  upon  his  haunches,  when  he  plunged 
down  a  ravine.  Some  of  our  party  galloped  to 
a  rising  ground  commanding  a  view  of  the 
ravine.  The  poor  buck  was  completely  beset, 
some  on  his  flanks,  some  at  his  throat ;  he  made 
two  or  three  struggles  and  desperate  bounds,  but 
was  dragged  down,  overpowered,  and  torn  to 
pieces.  The  black  wolves,  in  their  ravenous 
hunger  and  fury,  took  no  notice  of  the  distant 
group  of  horsemen  ;  but  the  white  wolf,  appar- 
ently less  game,  abandoned  the  prey,  and  scam- 
pered over  hill  and  dale,  rousing  various  deer 
that  were  crouched  in  the  hollows,  and  which 
bounded  off  likewise  in  different  directions.  It 
was  altogether  a  wild  scene,  worthy  of  the  "  hunt- 
ing grounds.'' 

We  now  came  once  more  in  sight  of  the  Red 
Fork,  winding  its  turbid  course  between  well- 
wooded  hills,  and  through  a  vast  and  magnificent 
landscape.  The  prairies  bordering  on  the  rivers 
are  always  varied  in  this  way  with  woodland,  so 
beautifully  interspersed  as  to  appear  to  have  been 
laid  out  by  the  hand  of  taste  ;  and  they  only 
want  here  and  there  a  village  spire,  the  battle- 
ments of  a  castle,  or  the  turrets  of  an  old  family 


mansion  rising  from  among  the  trees,  to  rival  the 
most  ornamented  scenery  of  Europe. 

About  midday  we  reached  the  edge  of  that 
scattered  belt  of  forest  land,  about  forty  miles  in 
width,  which  stretches  across  the  country  from 
north  to  south,  from  the  Arkansas  to  the  Red 
River,  separating  the  upper  from  the  lower  prai- 
ries, and  commonly  called  the  "  Cross  Timber." 
On  the  skirts  of  this  forest  land,  just  on  the  edge 
of  a  prairie,  we  found  traces  of  a  Pawnee  en- 
campment of  between  one  and  two  hundred 
lodges,  showing  that  the  party  must  have  been 
numerous.  The  skull  of  a  buffalo  lay  near  the 
camp,  and  the  moss  which  had  gathered  on  it 
proved  that  the  encampment  was  at  least  a  year 
old.  About  half  a  mile  off  we  encamped  in  a 
beautiful  grove,  watered  by  a  fine  spring  and 
rivulet.  Our  day's  journey  had  been  about  four- 
teen miles. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  we  were  rejoined 
by  two  of  Lieutenant  King's  party,  which  we 
had  left  behind  a  few  days  before,  to  look  after 
stray  horses.  All  the  horses  had  been  found, 
though  some  had  wandered  to  the  distance  of 
several  miles.  The  lieutenant,  with  seventeen 
of  his  companions,  had  remained  at  our  last 
night's  encampment  to  hunt,  having  come  upon 
recent  traces  of  buffalo.  They  had  also  seen  a 
fine  wild  horse,  which,  however,  had  galloped  off 
with  a  speed  that  defied  pursuit. 

Confident  anticipations  were  now  indulged, 
that  on  the  following  day  we  should  meet  with 
buffalo,  and  perhaps  with  wild  horses,  and  every 
one  was  in  spirits.  We  needed  some  excitement 
of  the  kind,  for  our  young  men  were  growing 
weary  of  marching  and  encamping  under  re- 
straint, and  provisions  this  day  were  scanty. 
The  Captain  and  several  of  the  rangers  went  out 
hunting,  but  brought  home  nothing  but  a  small 
deer  and  a  few  turkeys.  Our  two  men,  Beattc 
and  Tonish,  likewise  went  out.  The  former  re- 
turned with  a  deer  athwart  his  horse,  which,  as 
usual,  he  laid  down  by  our  lodge,  and  said  noth- 
ing. Tonish  returned  with  no  game,  but  with  his 
customary  budget  of  wonderful  tales.  Both  he 
and  the  deer  had  done  marvels.  Not  one  had 
come  within  the  lure  of  his  rifle  without  being 
hit  in  a  mortal  part,  yet,  strange  to  say,  every 
one  had  kept  on  his  way  without  flinching.  We 
all  determined  that,  from  the  accuracy  of  his  aim, 
Tonish  must  have  shot  with  charmed  balls,  but 
that  every  deer  had  a  charmed  life.  The  most 
important  intelligence  brought  by  him,  however, 
was,  that  he  had  seen  the  fresh  tracks  of  several 
wild  horses.  He  now  considered  himself  upon 
the  eve  of  great  exploits,  for  there  was  nothing 
upon  which  he  glorified  himself  more  than  his 
skill  in  horse- catching. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

Hunter's    Anticipations. —  The    Rugged   Ford. — A    Wild 
Horse. 

OCTOBER  2 1  ST. — This  morning  the  camp  was  in  a 
bustle  at  an  early  hour  :  the  expectation  of  falling 
in  with  buffalo  in  the  course  of  the  day  roused 
every  one's  spirit.  There  was  a  continual  cracking 
of  rifles,  that  they  might  be  reloaded  :  the  shot  was 
drawn  off  from  double-barrelled  guns,  and  balls 
were  substituted.  Tonish,  however,  prepared 
chiefly  for  a  campaign  against  wild  horses.  He 
took  the  field,  with  a  coil  of  cordage  hung  at  his 


460 


A  TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


saddle-bow,  and  a  couple  of  white  wands,  some- 
thing like  fishing-rods,  eight  or  ten  feet  in  length, 
with  forked  ends.  The  coil  of  cordage  thus  used 
in  hunting  the  wild  horse,  is  called  a  lariat,  and 
answers  to  the  lasso  of  South  America.  It  is  not 
flung,  however,  in  the  graceful  and  dexterous 
Spanish  style.  The  hunter,  after  a  hard  chase, 
when  he  succeeds  in  getting  almost  head  and 
head  with  the  wild  horse,  hitches  the  running 
noose  of  the  lariat  over  his  head  by  means  of  the 
forked  stick ;  then  letting  him  have  the  full 
length  of  the  cord,  plays  him  like  a  fish,  and 
chokes  him  into  subjection. 

All  this  Tonish  promised  to  exemplify  to  our 
full  satisfaction  ;  we  had  not  much  confidence  in 
his  success,  and  feared  he  might  knock  up  a  good 
horse  in  a  headlong  gallop  after  a  bad  one,  for, 
like  all  the  French  Creoles,  he  was  a  merciless 
hard  rider.  It  was  determined,  therefore,  to 
keep  a  sharp  eye  upon  him,  and  to  check  his 
sallying  propensities. 

We  had  not  proceeded  far  on  our  morning's 
march,  when  we  were  checked  by  a  deep  stream, 
running  along  the  bottom  of  a  thickly  wooded 
ravine.  After  coasting  it  for  a  couple  of  miles, 
we  came  to  a  fording  place  ;  but  to  get  down  to 
it  was  the  difficulty,  for  the  banks  were  steep  and 
crumbling,  and  overgrown  with  forest  trees, 
mingled  with  thickets,  brambles,  and  grapevines. 
At  length  the  leading  horseman  broke  his  way 
through  the  thicket,  and  his  horse,  putting  his 
feet  together,  slid  down  the  black  crumbling 
bank,  to  the  narrow  margin  of  the  stream  ;  then 
floundering  across,  with  mud  and  water  up  to 
the  saddle-girths,  he  scrambled  up  to  the  oppo- 
site bank,  and  arrived  safe  on  level  ground. 
The  whole  line  followed  pell-mell  after  the 
leader,  and  pushing  forward  in  close  order,  In- 
dian file,  they  crowded  each  other  down  the  bank 
and  into  the  stream.  Some  of  the  horsemen 
missed  the  ford,  and  were  soused  over  head  and 
ears  ;  one  was  unhorsed,  and  plumped  head  fore- 
most into  the  middle  of  the  stream:  for  my  own 
part,  while  pressed  forward,  and  hurried  over  the 
bank  by  those  behind  me,  I  was  interrupted  by  a 
grape-vine,  as  thick  as  a  cable,  which  hung  in  a 
festoon  as  low  as  the  saddle-bow,  and,  dragging 
me  from  the  saddle,  threw  me  among  the  feet  of 
the  trampling  horses.  Fortunately,  I  escaped 
without  injury,  regained  my  steed,  crossed  the 
stream  without  further  difficulty,  and  was  enabled 
to  join  in  the  merriment  occasioned  by  the  ludi- 
crous disasters. 

It  is  at  passes  like  this  that  occur  the  most 
dangerous  ambuscades  and  sanguinary  surprises  of 
Indian  warfare.  A  party  of  savages  well  placed 
among  the  thickets,  might  have  made  sad  havoc 
among  our  men,  while  entangled  in  the  ravine. 

We  now  came  out  upon  a  vast  and  glorious 
prairie,  spreading  out  beneath  the  golden  beams 
of  an  autumnal  sun.  The  deep  and  frequent 
traces  of  buffalo,  showed  it  to  be  one  of  their 
favorite  grazing  grounds  ;  yet  none  were  to  be 
seen.  In  the  course  of  the  morning,  we  were 
overtaken  by  the  lieutenant  and  seventeen  men, 
who  had  remained  behind,  and  who  came  laden 
with  the  spoils  of  buffaloes  ;  having  killed  three 
on  the  preceding  day.  One  of  the  rangers,  how- 
ever, had  little  luck  to  boast  of ;  his  horse  having 
taken  fright  at  sight  of  the  buffaloes,  thrown  his 
rider,  and  escaped  into  the  woods. 

The  excitement  of  our  hunters,  both  young  and 
old,  now  rose  almost  to  fever  height ;  scarce  any 
of  them  having  ever  encountered  any  of  this  far- 
famed  game  of  the  prairies.  Accordingly,  when 


in  the  course  of  the  day  the  cry  of  buffalo  !  buf- 
falo !  rose  from  one  part  of  the  line,  the  whole 
troop  were  thrown  in  agitation.  We  were  just 
then  passing  through  a  beautiful  part  of  the 
prairie,  finely  diversified  by  hills  and  slopes,  and 
woody  dells,  and  high,  stately  groves.  Those 
who  had  given  the  alarm,  pointed  out  a  large 
black-looking  animal,  slowly  moving  along  the 
side  of  a  rising  ground,  about  two  miles  off.  The 
ever- ready  Tonish  jumped  up,  and  stood  with  his 
feet  on  the  saddle,  and  his  forked  sticks  in  his 
hands,  like  a  posture-master  or  scaramouch  at  a 
circus,  just  ready  for  a  feat  of  horsemanship. 
After  gazing  at  the  animal  for  a  moment,  which 
he  could  have  seen  full  as  well  without  rising  from 
his  stirrups,  he  pronounced  it  a  wild  horse  ;  and 
dropping  again  into  his  saddle,  was  about  to 
dash  off  full  tilt  in  pursuit,  when,  to  his  inexpres- 
sible chagrin,  he  was  called  back,  and  ordered 
to  keep  to  his  post,  in  rear  of  the  baggage  horses. 

The  Captain  and  two  of  his  officers  now  set  off 
to  reconnoitre  the  game.  It  was  the  intention  of 
the  Captain,  who  was  an  admirable  marksman,  to 
endeavor  to  crease  the  horse ;  that  is  to  say,  to 
hit  him  with  a  rifle  ball  in  the  ridge  of  the  neck. 
A  wound  of  this  kind  paralyzes  a  horse  for  a  mo- 
ment ;  he  falls  to  the  ground,  and  may  be  secured 
before  he  recovers.  It  is  a  cruel  expedient,  how- 
ever, for  an  ill-directed  shot  may  kill  or  maim  the 
noble  animal. 

As  the  Captain  and  his  companions  moved  off 
laterally  and  slowly,  in  the  direction  of  the  horse, 
we  continued  our  course  forward  ;  watching  in- 
tently, however,  the  movements  of  the  game. 
The  horse  moved  quietly  over  the  profile  of  the 
rising  ground,  and  disappeared  behind  it.  The 
Captain  and  his  party  were  likewise  soon  hidden 
by  an  intervening  hill. 

After  a  time,  the  horse  suddenly  made  his  ap- 
pearance to  our  right,  just  ahead  of  the  line, 
emerging  out  of  a  small  valley,  on  a  brisk  trot ; 
having  evidently  taken  the  alarm.  At  sight  of  us 
he  stopped  short,  gazed  at  us  for  an  instant  with 
surprise,  then  tossing  up  his  head,  trotted  off  in 
fine  style,  glancing  at  us  first  over  one  shoulder, 
then  over  the  other,  his  ample  mane  and  tail 
streaming  in  the  wind.  Having  dashed  through 
a  skirt  of  thicket,  that  looked  like  a  hedge-row, 
he  paused  in  the  open  field  beyond,  glanced  back 
at  us  again,  with  a  beautiful  bend  of  the  neck, 
snuffed  the  air,  then  tossing  his  head  again,  broke 
into  a  gallop,  and  took  refuge  in  a  wood. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  a  horse 
scouring  his  native  wilderness  in  all  the  pride  and 
freedom  of  his  nature.  How  different  from  the 
poor,  mutilated,  harnessed,  checked,  reined-up 
victim  of  luxury,  caprice,  and  avarice,  in  our 
cities ! 

After  travelling  about  fifteen  miles,  we  en- 
camped about  one  o'clock,  that  our  hunters 
might  have  time  to  procure  a  supply  of  provisions. 
Our  encampment  was  in  a  spacious  grove  of  lofty 
oaks  and  walnuts,  free  from  underwood,  on  the 
border  of  a  brook.  While  unloading  the  pack- 
horses,  our  little  Frenchman  was  loud  in  his 
complaints  at  having  been  prevented  from  pur- 
suing the  wild  horse,  which  he  would  certainly 
have  taken.  In  the  meantime,  I  saw  our  half- 
breed,  Beatte,  quietly  saddle  his  best  horse,  a 
powerful  steed  of  half- savage  race,  hang  a  lariat 
at  the  saddle-bow,  take  a  rifle  and  forked  stick  in 
hand,  and,  mounting,  depart  from  the  camp  with- 
out saying  a  word.  It  was  evident  he  was  go- 
ing off  in  quest  of  the  wild  horse,  but  was  disposed 
to  hunt  alone. 


A   TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


461 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   CAMP   OF   THE   WILD    HORSE. 

Hunter' s  Stories.— Habits  of  the  Wild  Horse.  — The  Half- 
Dreed  and  his  Prize. — A  Horse  Chase. — A  Wild 
Spirit  Tamed. 

WE  had  encamped  in  a  good  neighborhood  for 
game,  as  the  reports  of  rifles  in  various  directions 
speedily  gave  notice.  One  of  our  hunters  soon 
returned  with  the  meat  of  a  doe,  tied  up  in  the 
skin,  and  slung  across  his  shoulders.  Another 
brought  a  fat  buck  across  his  horse.  Two  other 
deer  were  brought  in,  and  a  number  of  turkeys. 
All  the  game  was  thrown  down  in  front  of  the 
Captain's  fire,  to  be  portioned  out  among  the  va- 
rious messes.  The  spits  and  camp  kettles  were 
soon  in  full  employ,  and  throughout  the  evening 
there  was  a  scene  of  hunter's  feasting  and  profu- 
sion. 

We  had  been  disappointed  this  day  in  our 
hopes  of  meeting  with  buffalo,  but  the  sight  of  the 
wild  horse  had  been  a  great  novelty,  and  gave  a 
turn  to  the  conversation  of  the  camp  for  the  even- 
ing. There  were  several  anecdotes  told  of  a  fa- 
mous gray  horse,  which  has  ranged  the  prairies  of 
this  neighborhood  for  six  or  seven  years,  setting 
at  naught  every  attempt  of  the  hunters  to  capture 
him.  They  say  he  can  pace  and  rack  (or  amble) 
faster  than  the  fleetest  horses  can  run.  Equally 
marvellous  accounts  were  given  of  a  black  horse 
on  the  Brazos,  who  grazed  the  prairies  on  that 
river's  bank  in  Texas.  For  years  he  outstripped 
all  pursuit.  His  fame  spread  far  and  wide ; 
offers  were  made  for  him  to  the  amount  of  a 
thousand  dollars  ;  the  boldest  and  most  hard- 
riding  hunters  tried  incessantly  to  make  prize  of 
him,  but  in  vain.  At  length  he  fell  a  victim  to 
his  gallantry,  being  decoyed  under  a  tree  by  a 
tame  mare,  and  a  noose  dropped  over  his  head 
by  a  boy  perched  among  the  branches. 

The  capture  of  a  wild  horse  is  one  of  the  most 
favorite  achievements  of  the  prairie  tribes  ;  and, 
indeed,  it  is  from  this  source  that  the  Indian 
hunters  chiefly  supply  themselves.  The  wild 
horses  which  range  those  vast  grassy  plains,  ex- 
tending from  the  Arkansas  to  the  Spanish  settle- 
ments, are  of  various  forms  and  colors,  betraying 
their  various  descents.  Some  resemble  the  com- 
mon English  stock,  and  are  probably  descended 
from  horses  which  have  escaped  from  our  border 
settlements.  Others  are  of  a  low  but  strong  make, 
and  are  supposed  to  be  of  the  Andalusian  breed, 
brought  out  by  the  Spanish  discoverers. 

Some  fanciful  speculatists  have  seen  in  them 
descendants  of  the  Arab  stock,  brought  into 
Spain  from  Africa,  and  thence  transferred  to  this 
country  ;  and  have  pleased  themselves  with  the 
idea,  that  their  sires  may  have  been  of  the  pure 
coursers  of  the  desert,  that  once  bore  Mahomet 
and  his  warlike  disciples  across  the  sandy  plains 
of  Arabia. 

The  habits  of  the  Arab  seem  to  have  come  with 
the  steed.  The  introduction  of  the  horse  on  the 
boundless  prairies  of  the  Far  West,  changed  the 
whole  mode  of  living  of  their  inhabitants.  It  gave 
them  that  facility  of  rapid  motion,  and  of  sudden 
and  distant  change  of  place,  so  dear  to  the  roving 
propensities  of  man.  Instead  of  lurking  in  the 
depths  of  gloomy  forests,  and  patiently  threading 
the  mazes  of  a  tangled  wilderness  on  foot,  like  his 
brethren  of  the  north,  the  Indian  of  the  West  is  a 
rover  of  the  plain  ;  he  leads  a  brighter  and  more 
sunshiny  life ;  almost  always  on  horseback, 


on    vast   flowery   prairies    and    under   cloudless 
skies. 

I  was  lying  by  the  Captain's  fire,  late  in  the 
evening,  listening  to  the  stories  about  those 
coursers  of  the  prairies,  and  weaving  speculations 
of  my  own,  when  there  was  a  clamor  of  voices  and 
a  loud  cheering  at  the  other  end  of  the  camp ; 
and  word  was  passed  that  Beatte,  the  half-breed, 
had  brought  in  a  wild  horse. 

In  an  instant  every  fire  was  deserted  ;  the  whole 
camp  crowded  to  see  the  Indian  and  his  prize. 
It  was  a  colt  about  two  years  old,  well  grown, 
finely  limbed,  with  bright  prominent  eyes,  and  a 
spirited  yet  gentle  demeanor.  He  gazed  about 
him  with  an  air  of  mingled  stupefaction  and  sur- 
prise, at  the  men,  the  horses,  and  the  camp-fires; 
while  the  Indian  stood  before  him  with  folded 
arms,  having  hold  of  the  other  end  of  the  cord 
which  noosed  his  captive,  and  gazing  on  him  with 
a  most  imperturbable  aspect.  Beatte,  as  I  have 
before  observed,  has  a  greenish  olive  complexion, 
with  a  strongly  marked  countenance,  not  unlike 
the  bronze  casts  of  Napoleon ;  and  as  he  stood 
before  his  captive  horse,  with  folded  arms  and 
fixed  aspect,  he  looked  more  like  a  statue  than  a 
man. 

If  the  horse,  however,  manifested  the  least 
restiveness,  Beatte  would  immediately  worry 
him  with  the  lariat,  jerking  him  first  on  one  side, 
then  on  the  other,  so  as  almost  to  throw  him  on 
the  ground  ;  when  he  had  thus  rendered  him 
passive,  he  would  resume  his  statue-like  attitude 
and  gaze  at  him  in  silence. 

The  whole  scene  was  singularly  wild  ;  the  tall 
grove,  partially  illumined  by  the  flashing  fires  of 
the  camp,  the  horses  tethered  here  and  there 
among  the  trees,  the  carcasses  of  deer  hanging 
around,  and  in  the  midst  of  all,  the  wild  hunts- 
man and  his  wild  horse,  with  an  admiring  throng 
of  rangers,  almost  as  wild. 

In  the  eagerness  of  their  excitement,  several  of 
the  young  rangers  sought  to  get  the  horse  by 
purchase  or  barter,  and  even  offered  extravagant 
terms;  but  Beatte  declined  all  their  offers.  "You 
give  great  price  now  ;  "  said  he,  "  to-morrow  you 
be  sorry,  and  take  back,  and  say  d — d  Indian  !  " 
The  young  men  importuned  him  with  questions 
about  the  niode  in  which  he  took  the  horse,  but 
his  answers  were  dry  and  laconic  ;  he  evidently 
retained  some  pique  at  having  been  undervalued 
and  sneered  at  by  them  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
looked  down  upon  them  with  contempt  as  green- 
horns, little  versed  in  the  noble  science  of  wood- 
craft. 

Afterward,  however,  when  he  was  seated  by 
our  fire,  I  readily  drew  from  him  an  account  of 
his  exploit ;  for,  though  taciturn  among  stran- 
gers, and  little  prone  to  boast  of  his  actions,  yet 
his  taciturnity,  like  that  of  all  Indians,  had  its 
times  of  relaxation. 

He  informed  me,  that  on  leaving  the  camp,  he 
had  returned  to  the  place  where  we  had  lost  sight 
of  the  wild  horse.  Soon  getting  upon  its  track, 
he  followed  it  to  the  banks  of  the  river.  Here, 
the  prints  being  more  distinct  in  the  sand,  he 
perceived  that  one  of  the  hoofs  was  broken  and 
defective,  so  he  gave  up  the  pursuit. 

As  he  was  returning  to  the  camp,  he  came  upon 
a  gang  of  six  horses,  which  immediately  made  for 
the  river.  He  pursued  them  across  the  stream, 
left  his  rifle  on  the  river  bank,  and  putting  his 
horse  to  full  speed,  soon  came  up  with  the  fugi- 
tives. He  attempted  to  noose  one  of  them,  but 
the  lariat  hitched  on  one  of  his  ears,  and  he 
shook  it  off.  The  horses  dashed  up  a  hill,  he 


462 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


followed  hard  at  their  heels,  when,  of  a  sudden, 
he  saw  their  tails  whisking  in  the  air,  and  they 
plunging  down  a  precipice.  It  was  too  late  to 
stop.  He  shut  his  eyes,  held  in  his  breath,  and 
went  over  with  them — neck  or  nothing.  The  de- 
scent was  between  twenty  and  thirty  feet,  but 
they  all  came  down  safe  upon  a  sandy  bot- 
tom. 

He  now  succeeded  in  throwing  his  noose  round 
a  fine  young  horse.  As  he  galloped  alongside 
of  him,  the  two  horses  passed  each  side  of  a 
sapling,  and  the  end  of  the  lariat  was  jerked  out 
of  his  hand.  He  regained  it,  but  an  intervening 
tree  obliged  him  again  to  let  it  go.  Having  once 
more  caught  it,  and  coming  to  a  more  open  coun- 
try, he  was  enabled  to  play  the  young  horse  with 
the  line  until  he  gradually  checked  and  subdued 
him,  so  as  to  lead  him  to  the  place  where  he  had 
left  his  rifle. 

He  had  another  formidable  difficulty  in  getting 
him  across  the  river,  where  both  horses  stuck  for 
a  time  in  the  mire,  and  Beatte  was  nearly  un- 
seated from  his  saddle  by  the  force  of  the  current 
and  the  struggles  of  his  captive.  After  much  toil 
and  trouble,  however,  he  got  across  the  stream, 
and  brought  his  prize  safe  into  camp. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  evening,  the  camp 
remained  in  a  high  state  of  excitement  ;  nothing 
was  talked  of  but  the  capture  of  wild  horses  ; 
every  youngster  of  the  troop  was  for  this  harum- 
scarum  kind  of  chase  ;  every  one  promised  him- 
self to  return  from  the  campaign  in  triumph,  be- 
striding one  of  these  wild  coursers  of  the  prairies. 
Beatte  had  suddenly  risen  to  great  importance  ; 
he  was  the  prime  hunter,  the  hero  of  the  day. 
Offers  were  made  him  by  the  best  mounted  ran- 
gers, to  let  him  ride  their  horses  in  the  chase,  pro- 
vided he  would  give  them  a  share  of  the  spoil. 
Beatte  bore  his  honors  in  silence,  and  closed  with 
none  of  the  offers.  Our  stammering,  chattering, 
gasconading  little  Frenchman,  however,  made  up 
for  his  taciturnity,  by  vaunting  as  much  upon  the 
subject  as  if  it  were  he  that  had  caught  the  horse. 
Indeed  he  held  forth  so  learnedly  in  the  matter, 
and  boasted  so  much  of  the  many  horses  he  had 
taken,  that  he  began  to  be  considered  an  oracle  ; 
and  some  of  the  youngsters  were  inclined  to 
doubt  whether  he  were  not  superior  even  to  the 
taciturn  Beatte. 

The  excitement  kept  the  camp  awake  later 
than  usual.  The  hum  of  voices,  interrupted  by 
occasional  peals  of  laughter,  was  heard  from  the 
groups  around  the  various  fires,  and  the  night 
was  considerably  advanced  before  all  had  sunk  to 
sleep. 

With  the  morning  dawn  the  excitement  re- 
vived, and  Beatte  and  his  wild  horse  were  again 
the  gaze  and  talk  of  the  camp.  The  captive  had 
been  tied  all  night  to  a  tree  among  the  other 
horses.  He  was  again  led  forth  by  Beatte,  by  a 
long  halter  or  lariat,  and,  on  his  manifesting  the 
least  restiveness,  was,  as  before,  jerked  and  wor- 
ried into  passive  submission.  He  appeared  to  be 
gentle  and  docile  by  nature,  and  had  a  beauti- 
fully mild  expression  of  the  eye.  In  his  strange 
and  forlorn  situation,  the  poor  animal  seemed  to 
seek  protection  and  companionship  in  the  very 
horse  which  had  aided  to  capture  him. 

Seeing  him  thus  gentle  and  tractable,  Beatte, 
just  as  we  were  about  to  march,  strapped  a  light 
pack  upon  his  back,  by  way  of  giving  him  the 
first  lesson  in  servitude.  The  native  pride  and 
independence  of  the  animal  took  fire  at  this  in- 
dignity. He  reared,  and  plunged,  and  kicked, 
and  tried  in  every  way  to  get  rid  of  the  degrading 


burden.  The  Indian  was  too  potent  for  him.  At 
every  paroxysm  he  renewed  the  discipline  of  the 
halter,  until  the  poor  animal,  driven  to  despair, 
threw  himself  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  lay 
motionless,  as  if  acknowledging  himself  van- 
quished. A  stage  hero,  representing  the  despair 
of  a  captive  prince,  could  not  have  played  his 
part  more  dramatically.  There  was  absolutely  a 
moral  grandeur  in  it. 

The  imperturbable  Beatte  folded  his  arms,  and 
stood  for  a  time,  looking  down  in  silence  upon  his 
captive  ;  until  seeing  him  perfectly  subdued,  he 
nodded  his  head  slowly,  screwed  his  mouth  into 
a  sardonic  smile  of  triumph,  and,  with  a  jerk  of 
the  halter,  ordered  him  to  rise.  He  obeyed,  and 
from,  that  time  forward  offered  no  resistance. 
During  that  day  he  bore  his  pack  patiently,  and 
was  led  by  the  halter  ;  but  in  two  days  he  fol- 
lowed voluntarily  at  large  among  the  supernu- 
merary horses  of  the  troop. 

I  could  not  look  without  compassion  upon  this 
fine  young  animal,  whose  whole  course  of  exist- 
ence had  been  so  suddenly  reversed.  From 
being  a  denizen  of  these  vast  pastures,  ranging  at 
will  from  plain  to  plain  and  mead  to  mead,  crop- 
ping of  every  herb  and  flower,  and  drinking  of 
every  stream,  he  was  ^suddenly  reduced  to  per- 
petual and  painful  servitude,  to  pass  his  life  un- 
der the  harness  and  the  curb,  amid,  perhaps, 
the  din  and  dust  and  drudgery  of  cities.  The 
transition  in  his  lot  was  such  as  sometimes  takes 
place  in  human  affairs,  and  in  the  fortunes  of 
towering  individuals  : — one  day,  a  prince  of  the 
prairies — the  next  day,  a  pack-horse  ! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Fording  of  the  Red  Fork.—  The  Dreary  Forests   of 
the  "Cross   Timber." — Buffalo/ 

WE  left  the  camp  of  the  wild  horse  about  a 
quarter  before  eight,  and,  after  steering  nearly 
south  for  three  or  four  miles,  arrived  on  the 
banks  of  the  Red  Fork,  about  seventy-five  miles, 
as  we  supposed,  above  its  mouth.  The  river  was 
about  three  hundred  yards  wide,  wandering 
among  sand-bars  and  shoals.  Its  shores,  and  the 
long  sandy  banks  that  stretched  out  into  the 
stream,  were  printed,  as  usual,  with  the  traces  of 
various  animals  that  had  come  down  to  cross  it, 
or  to  drink  its  waters. 

Here  we  came  to  a  halt,  and  there  was  much 
consultation  about  the  possibility  of  fording  the 
river  with  safety,  as  there  was  an  apprehension  of 
quicksands.  Beatte,  who  had  been  somewhat  in 
the  rear,  came  up  while  we  were  debating.  He 
was  mounted  on  his  horse  of  the  half-wild  breed, 
and  leading  his  captive  by  the  bridle.  He  gave 
the  latter  in  charge  to  Tonish,  and  without  say- 
ing a  word,  urged  his  horse  into  the  stream,  and 
crossed  it  in  safety.  Everything  was  done  by 
this  man  in  a  similar  way,  promptly,  resolutely, 
and  silently,  without  a  previous  promise  or  an 
after  vaunt. 

The  troop  now  followed  the  lead  of  Beatte,  and 
reached  the  opposite  shore  without  any  mishap, 
though  one  of  the  pack-horses  wandering  a  little 
from  the  track,  came  near  being  swallowed  up  in 
a  quicksand,  and  was  with  difficulty  dragged  to 
land. 

After  crossing  the  river,  we  had  to  force  our 
way,  for  nearly  a  mile,  through  a  thick  cane- 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


463 


brake,  which,  at  first  sight,  appeared  an  imper- 
vious mass  of  reeds  and  brambles.  It  was  a  hard 
struggle  ;  our  horses  were  often  to  the  saddle- 
girths  in  mire  and  water,  and  both  horse  and 
horseman  harassed  and  torn  by  bush  and  brier. 
Falling,  however,  upon  a  buffalo  track,  we  at 
length  extricated  ourselves  from  this  morass,  and 
ascended  a  ridge  of  land,  where  we  beheld  a 
beautiful  open  country  before  us  ;  while  to  our 
right,  the  belt  of  forest  land,  called  "  The  Cross 
Timber,"  continued  stretching  away  to  the  south- 
ward, as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  We  soon 
abandoned  the  open  country,  and  struck  into  the 
forest  land.  It  was  the  intention  of  the  Captain 
to  keep  on  southwest  by  south,  and  traverse  the 
Cross  Timber  diagonally,  so  as  to  come  out  upon 
the  edge  of  the  great  western  prairie.  By  thus 
maintaining  something  of  a  southerly  direction, 
he  trusted,  while  he  crossed  the  belt  of  the 
forest,  he  would  at  the  same  time  approach  the 
Red  River. 

The  plan  of  the  Captain  was  judicious  ;  but  he 
erred  from  not  being  informed  of  the  nature  of 
the  country.  Had  he  kept  directly  west,  a  couple 
of  days  would  have  carried  us  through  the  forest 
land,  and  we  might  then  have  had  an  easy  course 
along  the  skirts  of  the  upper  prairies,  to  Red 
River ;  by  going  diagonally,  we  were  kept  for 
many  weary  days  toiling  through  a  dismal  series 
of  rugged  forests. 

The  Cross  Timber  is  about  forty  miles  in 
breadth,  and  stretches  over  a  rough  country  of 
rolling  hills,  covered  with  scattered  tracts  of  post- 
oak  and  black-jack  ;  with  some  intervening  val- 
leys, which,  at  proper  seasons,  would  afford  good 
pasturage.  It  is  very  much  cut  up  by  deep 
ravines,  which,  in  the  rainy  seasons,  are  the  beds 
of  temporary  streams,  tributary  to  the  main 
rivers,  and  these  are  called  "  branches."  The 
whole  tract  may  present  a  pleasant  aspect  in  the 
fresh  time  of  the  year,  when  the  ground  is  covered 
with  herbage  ;  when  the  trees  are  in  their  green 
leaf,  and  the  glens  are  enlivened  by  running 
streams.  Unfortunately,  we  entered  it  too  late 
in  the  season.  The  herbage  was  parched  ;  the 
foliage  of  the  scrubby  forests  was  withered  ;  the 
whole  woodland  prospect,  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  had  a  brown  and  arid  hue.  The  fires  made 
on  the  prairies  by  the  Indian  hunters,  had  fre- 
quently penetrated  these  forests,  sweeping  in  light 
transient  flames  along  the  dry  grass,  scorching 
and  calcining  the  lower  twigs  and  branches  of 
the  trees,  and  leaving  them  black  and  hard,  so 
as  to  tear  the  flesh  of  man  and  horse  that  had  to 
scramble  through  them.  I  shall  not  easily  for- 
get the  mortal  toil,  and  the  vexations  of  flesh  and 
spirit,  that  we  underwent  occasionally,  in  our 
wanderings  through  the  Cross  Timber.  It  was 
like  struggling  through  forests  of  cast  iron. 

After  a  tedious  ride  of  several  miles,  we  came 
out  upon  an  open  tract  of  hill  and  dale,  inter- 
spersed with  woodland.  Here  we  were  roused  by 
the  cry  of  buffalo  !  buffalo  !  The  effect  was  some- 
thing like  that  of  the  cry  of  a  sail !  a  sail !  at  sea. 
It  was  not  a  false  alarm.  Three  or  four  of  these 
enormous  animals  were  visible  to  our  sight  graz- 
ing on  the  slope  of  a  distant  hill. 

There  was  a  general  movement  to  set  off  in 
pursuit,  and  it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  the 
vivacity  of  the  younger  men  of  the  troop  could  be 
restrained.  Leaving  orders  that  the  line  of  march 
should  be  preserved,  the  Captain  and  two  of  his 
officers  departed  at  a  quiet  pace,  accompanied  by 
Beatte,  and  by  the  ever-forward  Tonish  ;  for  it 
was  impossible  any  longer  to  keep  the  little 


Frenchman  in  check,  being  half  crazy  to  prove 
his  skill  and  prowess  in  hunting  the  buffalo. 

The  intervening  hills  soon  hid  from  us  both  the 
game  and  the  huntsmen.  We  kept  on  our  course 
in  quest  of  a  camping  place,  which  was  difficult 
to  be  found ;  almost  all  the  channels  of  the 
streams  being  dry,  and  the  country  being  desti- 
tute of  fountain  heads. 

After  proceeding  some  distance,  there  was 
again  a  cry  of  buffalo,  and  two  were  pointed  out 
on  a  hill  to  the  left.  The  Captain  being  absent, 
it  was  no  longer  possible  to  restrain  the  ardor  of 
the  young  hunters.  Away  several  of  them 
dashed,  full  speed,  and  soon  disappeared  among 
the  ravines  ;  the  rest  kept  on,  anxious  to  find  a 
proper  place  for  encampment. 

Indeed  we  now  began  to  experience  the  disad- 
vantages of  the  season.  The  pasturage  of  the 
prairies  was  scanty  and  parched  ;  the  pea-vines 
which  grew  in  the  woody  bottoms  were  withered, 
and  most  of  the  "branches"  or  streams  were 
dried  up.  While  wandering  in  this  perplexity, 
we  were  overtaken  by  the  Captain  and  all  his 
party,  except  Tonish.  They  had  pursued  the 
buffalo  for  some  distance  without  getting  within 
shot,  and  had  given  up  the  chase,  being  fearful 
of  fatiguing  their  horses,  or  being  led  off  too  far 
from  camp.  The  little  Frenchman,  however,  had 
galloped  after  them  at  headlong  speed,  and  the 
last  they  saw  of  him,  he  was  engaged,  as  it  were, 
yard-arm  and  yard-arm,  with  a  great  buffalo  bull, 
firing  broadsides  into  him.  "  I  tink  dat  little 
man  crazy — somehow,"  observed  Beatte,  dryly. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Alarm    Cam*. 

> 

WE  now  came  to  a  halt,  and  had  to  content  our- 
selves with  an  indifferent  encampment.  It  was  in 
a  grove  of  scrub-oaks,  on  the  borders  of  a  deep 
ravine,  at  the  bottom  of  which  were  a  few  scanty 
pools  of  water.  We  were  just  at  the  foot  of  a 
gradually-sloping  hill,  covered  with  half-withered 
grass,  that  afforded  meagre  pasturage.  In  the 
spot  where  we  had  encamped,  the  grass  was  high 
and  parched.  The  view  around  us  was  circum- 
scribed and  much  shut  in  by  gently  swelling  hills. 

Just  as  we  were  encamping,  Tonish  arrived,  all 
glorious,  from  his  hunting  match  ;  his  white  horse 
hung  all  round  with  buffalo  meat.  According  to 
his  own  account,  he  had  laid  low  two  mighty 
bulls.  As  usual,  we  deducted  one  half  from  his 
boastings  ;  but,  now  that  he  had  something  real 
to  vaunt  about,  there  was  no  restraining  the  valor 
of  his  tongue. 

After  having  in  some  measure  appeased  his 
vanity  by  boasting  of  his  exploit,  he  informed  us 
that  he  had  observed  the  fresh  track  of  horses, 
which,  from  various  circumstances,  he  suspected 
to  have  been  made  by  some  roving  band  of  Paw- 
nees. This  caused  some  little  uneasiness.  The 
young  men  who  had  left  the  line  of  march  in  pur- 
suit of  the  two  buffaloes,  had  not  yet  rejoined  us  ; 
apprehensions  were  expressed  that  they  might  be 
waylaid  and  attacked.  Our  veteran  hunter,  old 
Ryan,  also,  immediately  on  our  halting  to  en- 
camp, had  gone  off  on  foot,  in  company  with  a 
young  disciple.  "  Dat  old  man  will  have  his 
brains  knocked  out  by  de  Pawnees  yet,"  said 
Beatte.  "  He  tink  he  know  every  ting,  but  he 
don't  know  Pawnees,  anyhow." 


464 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


Taking  his  rifle,  the  Captain  repaired  on  foot 
to  reconnoitre  the  country  from  the  naked  sum- 
mit of  one  of  the  neighboring  hills.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  horses  were  hobbled  and  turned  loose 
to  graze ;  and  wood  was  cut,  and  fires  made,  to 
prepare  the  evening's  repast. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  alarm  of  fire  in  the 
camp  !  The  flame  from  one  of  the  kindling  fires 
had  caught  to  the  tall  dry  grass  ;  a  breeze  was 
blowing ;  there  was  danger  that  the  camp  would 
soon  be  wrapped  in  a  light  blaze.  "Look  to  the 
horses!"  cried  one  ;  "  Drag  away  the  baggage  !" 
cried  another.  "Take  care  of  the  rifles  and 
powder-horns !  "  cried  a  third.  All  was  hurry- 
scurry  and  uproar.  The  horses  dashed  wildly 
about ;  some  of  the  men  snatched  away  rifles  and 
powder-horns,  others  dragged  off  saddles  and 
saddle-bags.  Meantime,  no  one  thought  of  quell- 
ing the  fire,  nor  indeed  knew  how  to  quell  it. 
Beatte,  however,  and  his  comrades  attacked  it  in 
the  Indian  mode,  beating  down  the  edges  of  the 
fire  with  blankets  and  horse-cloths,  and  endea- 
voring to  prevent  its  spreading  among  the  grass  ; 
the  rangers  followed  their  example,  and  in  a  little 
while  the  flames  were  happily  quelled. 

The  fires  were  now  properly  kindled  on  places 
from  which  the  dry  grass  had  been  cleared  away. 
The  horses  were  scattered  about  a  small  valley, 
and  on  the  sloping  hill-side,  cropping  the  scanty 
herbage.  Tonish  was  preparing  a  sumptuous 
evening's  meal  from  his  buffalo  meat,  promising 
us  a  rich  soup  and  a  prime  piece  of  roast  beef, 
but  we  were  doomed  to  experience  another  and 
more  serious  alarm. 

There  was  an  indistinct  cry  from  some  rangers 
on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  of  which  we  could  only 
distinguish  the  words,  "  The  horses  !  the  horses  ! 
get  in  the  horses  !  " 

Immediately  a  clamor  of  voices  arose  ;  shouts, 
inquiries,  replies,  were  all  mingled  together,  so 
that  nothing  could  be  clearly  understood,  and 
every  one  drew  his  own  inference. 

"  The  Captain  has  started  buffaloes,"  cried 
one,  "  and  wants  horses  for  the  chase."  Imme- 
diately a  number  of  rangers  seized  their  rifles,  and 
scampered  for  the  hill-top.  "  The  prairie  is  on 
fire  beyond  the  hill,"  cried  another;  "  I  see  the 
smoke — the  Captain  means  we  shall  drive  the 
horses  beyond  the  brook." 

By  this  time  a  ranger  from  the  hill  had  reached 
the  skirts  of  the  camp.  He  was  almost  breath- 
less, and  could  only  say  that  the  Captain  had 
seen  Indians  at  a  distance. 

"  Pawnees  !  Pawnees  ! "  was  now  the  cry  among 
our  wild-headed  youngsters.  "  Drive  the  horses 
into  camp  !"  cried  one.  "Saddle  the  horses!" 
cried  another.  "  Form  the  line  !  "  cried  a  third. 
There  was  now  a  scene  of  clamor  and  confusion 
that  baffles  all  description.  The  rangers  were 
scampering  about  the  adjacent  field  in  pursuit  of 
their  horses.  One  might  be  seen  tugging  his 
steed  along  by  a  halter  ;  another  without  a  hat, 
riding  bare-backed  ;  another  driving  a  hobbled 
horse  before  him,  that  made  awkward  leaps  like 
a  kangaroo. 

The  alarm  increased.  Word  was  brought  from 
the  lower  end  of  the  camp  that  there  was  a  band 
of  Pawnees  in  a  neighboring  valley.  They  had 
shot  old  Ryan  through  the  head,  and  were  chas- 
ing his  companion!  "No  it  was  not  old  Ryan 
that  was  killed — it  was  one  of  the  hunters  that 
had  been  after  the  two  buffaloes."  "  There  are 
three  hundred  Pawnees  just  beyond  the  hill," 
cried  one  voice.  "  More,  more  !  "  cried  another. 

Our  situation,  shut  in  among  hills,  prevented 


our  seeing  to  any  distance,  and  left  us  a  prey  to 
all  these  rumors.  A  cruel  enemy  was  supposed 
to  be  at  hand,  and  an  immediate  attack  appre- 
hended. The  horses  by  this  time  were  driven 
into  the  camp,  and  were  dashing  about  among 
the  fires,  and  trampling  upon  the  baggage. 
Every  one  endeavored  to  prepare  for  action  ;  but 
here  was  the  perplexity.  During  the  late  alarm 
of  fire,  the  saddles,  bridles,  rifles,  powder-horns, 
and  other  equipments,  had  been  snatched  out  of 
their  places,  and  thrown  helter-skelter  among 
the  trees. 

"  Where  is  my  saddle  ?  "  cried  one.  "  Has 
any  one  seen  my  rifle  ?"  cried  another.  "Who 
will  lend  me  a  ball  ? "  cried  a  third,  who  was 
loading  his  piece.  "  I  have  lost  my  bullet 
pouch."  "  For  God's  sake  help  me  to  girth  this 
horse  !  "  cried  another  ;  "  he's  so  restive  I  can  do 
nothing  with  him."  In  his  hurry  and  worry,  he 
had  put  on  the  saddle  the  hind  part  before  ! 

Some  affected  to  swagger  and  talk  bold  ;  others 
said  nothing,  but  went  on  steadily,  preparing 
their  horses  and  weapons,  and  on  these  I  felt  the 
most  reliance.  Some  were  evidently  excited  and 
elated  with  the  idea  of  an  encounter  svith  Indians  ; 
and  none  more  so  than  my  young  Swiss  fellow 
traveller,  who  had  a  passion  for  wild  adventure. 
Our  man,  Beatte,  led  his  horses  in  the  rear  of  the 
camp,  placed  his  rifle  against  a  tree,  then  seated 
himself  by  the  fire  in  perfect  silence.  On  the 
other  hand,  little  Tonish,  who  was  busy  cooking, 
stopped  every  moment  from  his  work  to  play  the 
fanfaron,  singing,  swearing,  and  affecting  an  un- 
usual hilarity,  which  made  me  strongly  suspect 
that  there  was  some  little  fright  at  bottom,  to 
cause  all  this  effervescence. 

About  a  dozen  of  the  rangers,  as  soon  as  they 
could  saddle  their  horses,  dashed  off  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  Pawnees  were  said  to  have  at- 
tacked the  hunters.  It  was  now  determined,  in 
case  our  camp  should  be  assailed,  to  put  our 
horses  in  the  ravine  in  the  rear,  where  they  would 
be  out  of  danger  from  arrow  or  rifle-ball,  and  to 
take  our  stand  within  the  edge  of  the  ravine.  This 
would  serve  as  a  trench,  and  the  trees  and  thickets 
with  which  it  was  bordered,  would  be  sufficient 
to  turn  aside  any  shaft  of  the  enemy.  The  Paw- 
nees, besides,  are  wary  of  attacking  any  covert  of 
the  kind  ;  their  warfare,  as  I  have  already  ob- 
served, lies  in  the  open  prairie,  where,  mounted 
upon  their  fleet  horses,  they  can  swoop  like  hawks 
upon  their  enemy,  or  wheel  about  him  and  dis- 
charge their  arrows.  Still  I  could  not  but  per- 
ceive, that,  in  case  of  being  attacked  by  such  a 
number  of  these  well-mounted  and  warlike  sav- 
ages as  were  said  to  be  at  hand,  we  should  be 
exposed  to  considerable  risk  from  the  inexperi- 
ence and  want  of  discipline  of  our  newly  raised 
rangers,  and  from  the  very  courage  of  many  of 
the  younger  ones  who  seemed  bent  on  adventure 
and  exploit. 

By  this  time  the  Captain  reached  the  camp, 
and  every  one  crowded  round  him  for  informa- 
tion. He  informed  us,  that  he  had  proceeded 
some  distance  on  his  reconnoitering  expedition, 
and  was  slowly  returning  toward  the  camp, 
along  the  brow  of  a  naked  hill,  when  he  saw 
something  on  the  edge  of  a  parallel  hill,  that 
looked  like  a  man.  He  paused,  and  watched  it ; 
but  it  remained  so  perfectly  motionless,  that  he 
supposed  it  a  bush,  or  the  top  of  some  tree  be- 
yond the  hill.  He  resumed  his  course,  when  it 
likewise  began  to  move  in  a  parallel  direction. 
Another  form  now  rose  beside  it,  of  some  one 
who  had  either  been  lying  down,  or  had  just  as- 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


cended  the  other  side  of  the  hill.  The  Captain 
stopped  and  regarded  them ;  they  likewise 
stopped.  He  then  lay  down  upon  the  grass,  and 
they  began  to  walk.  On  his  rising,  they  again 
stopped,  as  if  watching  him.  Knowing  that  the 
Indians  are  apt  to  have  their  spies  and  sentinels 
thus  posted  on  the  summit  of  naked  hills,  com- 
manding extensive  prospects,  his  doubts  were  in- 
creased by  the  suspicious  movements  of  these 
men.  He  now  put  his  foraging  cap  on  the  end 
of  his  rifle,  and  waved  it  in  the  air.  They  took 
no  notice  of  the  signal.  He  then  walked  on, 
until  he  entered  the  edge  of  a  wood,  which  con- 
cealed him  from  their  view.  Stopping  out  of 
sight  for  a  moment,  he  again  looked  forth,  when 
he  saw  the  two  men  passing  swiftly  forward.  As 
the  hill  on  which  they  were  walking  made  a  curve 
toward  that  on  which  he  stood,  it  seemed  as  if 
they  were  endeavoring  to  head  him  before  he 
should  reach  the  camp.  Doubting  whether  they 
might  not  belong  to  some  large  party  of  Indians, 
either  in  ambush  or  moving  along  the  valley  be- 
yond the  hill,  the  Captain  hastened  his  steps 
homeward,  and,  descrying  some  rangers  on  an 
eminence  between  him  and  the  camp,  he  called 
out  to  them  to  pass  the  Word  to  have  the  horses 
driven  in,  as  these  are  generally  the  first  objects 
of  Indian  depredation. 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  alarm  which  had 
thrown  the  camp  in  commotion.  Some  of  those 
who  heard  the  Captain's  narration,  had  no  doubt 
that  the  men  on  the  hill  were  Pawnee  scouts,  be- 
longing to  the  band  that  had  waylaid  the  hunters. 
Distant  shots  were  heard  at  intervals,  which  were 
supposed  to  be  fired  by  those  who  had  sallied  out 
to  rescue  their  comrades.  Several  more  rangers, 
having  completed  their  equipments,  now  rode 
forth  in  the  direction  of  the  firing  ;  others  looked 
anxious  and  uneasy. 

"  If  they  are  as  numerous  as  they  are  said  to 
be,"  said  one,  "  and  as  well  mounted  as  they 
generally  are,  we  shall  be  a  bad  match  for  them 
with  our  jaded  horses." 

"Well,"  replied  the  Captain,  "we  have  a 
strong  encampment,  and  can  stand  a  siege." 

"  Ay,  but  they  may  set  fire  to  the  prairie  in  the 
night,  and  burn  us  out  of  our  encampment." 

"  We  will  then  set  up  a  counter-fire  !  " 

The  word  was  now  passed  that  a  man  on  horse- 
back approached  the  camp. 

"It  is  one  of  the  hunters!  It  is  Clements! 
He  brings  buffalo  meat  ! "  was  announced  by 
several  voices  as  the  horseman  drew  near. 

It  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  rangers  who  had  set 
off  in  the  morning  in  pursuit  of  the  two  buffaloes. 
He  rode  into  the  camp,  with  the  spoils  of  the 
chase  hanging  round  his  horse,  and  followed  by 
his  companions,  all  sound  and  unharmed,  and 
equally  well  laden.  They  proceeded  to  give  an 
account  of  a  grand  gallop  they  had  had  after  the 
two  buffaloes,  and  how  many  shots  it  had  cost 
them  to  bring  one  to  the  ground. 

"  Well,  but  the  Pawnees— the  Pawnees— where 
are  the  Pawnees  ?  " 
'  What  Pawnees  ?  " 
'  The  Pawnees  that  attacked  you." 
'  No  one  attacked  us." 

'  But  have  you  seen  no  Indians  on  your  way  ?  " 

'  Oh  yes,  two  of  us  got  to  the  top  of  a  hill  to 

look  out  for  the  camp,  and  saw  a  fellow  on  an 

opposite  hill    cutting  queer  antics,  who  seemed 

to  be  an  Indian." 

"  Pshaw  !  that  was  I !  "  said  the  Captain. 

Here  the  bubble  burst.     The  whole  alarm  had 
risen  from   this  mutual  mistake  of  the  Captain 
30 


and  the  two  rangers.  As  to  the  report  of  the 
three  hundred  Pawnees  and  their  attack  on  the 
hunters,  it  proved  to  be  a  wanton  fabrication,  of 
which  no  further  notice  was  taken  ;  though  the 
author  deserved  to  have  been  sought  out,  and 
severely  punished. 

There  being  no  longer  any  prospect  of  fighting, 
every  one  now  thought  of  eating  ;  and  here  the 
stomachs  throughout  the  camp  were  in  unison. 
Tonish  served  up  to  us  his  promised  regale  of 
buffalo  soup  and  buffalo  beef.  The  soup  was 
peppered  most  horribly,  and  the  roast  beef  proved 
the  bull  to  have  been  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  the 
prairies ;  never  did  I  have  to  deal  with  a  tougher 
morsel.  However,  it  was  our  first  repast  on 
buffalo  meat,  so  we  ate  it  with  a  lively  faith  ;  nor 
would  our  little  Frenchman  allow  us  any  rest, 
until  he  had  extorted  from  us  an  acknowledgment 
of  the  excellence  of  his  cookery ;  though  the 
pepper  gave  us  the  lie  in  our  throats. 

The  night  closed  in  without  the  return  of  old 
Ryan  and  his  companion.  We  had  become  ac- 
customed, however,  to  the  aberrations  of  this  old 
cock  of  the  woods,  and  no  further  solicitude  was 
expressed  on  his  account. 

After  the  fatigues  and  agitations  of  the  day,  the 
camp  soon  sunk  into  a  profound  sleep,  excepting 
those  on  guard,  who  were  more  than  usually  on  the 
alert  ;  for  the  traces  recently  seen  of  Pawnees, 
and  the  certainty  that  we  were  in  the  midst  of 
their  hunting  grounds,  excited  to  constant  vigi- 
lance. About  half  past  ten  o'clock  we  were  all 
startled  from  sleep  by  a  new  alarm.  A  sentinel 
had  fired  off  his  rifle  and  run  into  camp,  crying, 
that  there  were  Indians  at  hand. 

Every  one  was  on  his  legs  in  an  instant.  Some 
seized  their  rifles  ;  some  were  about  to  saddle 
their  horses ;  some  hastened  to  the  Captain's 
lodge,  but  were  ordered  back  to  their  respective 
fires.  The  sentinel  was  examined.  He  declared 
he  had  seen  an  Indian  approach,  crawling  along 
the  ground  ;  whereupon  he  had  fired  upon  him, 
and  run  into  camp.  The  Captain  gave  it  as  his 
opinion,  that  the  supposed  Indian  was  a  wolf; 
he  reprimanded  the  sentinel  for  deserting  his 
post,  and  obliged  him  to  return  to  it.  Many 
seemed  inclined  to  give  credit  to  the  story  of  the 
sentinel  ;  for  the  events  of  the  day  had  predis- 
posed them  to  apprehend  lurking  foes  and  sudden 
assaults  during  the  darkness  of  the  night.  For  a 
long  time  they  sat  round  their  fires,  with  rifle  in 
hand,  carrying  on  low,  murmuring  conversations, 
and  listening  for  some  new  alarm.  Nothing 
further,  however,  occurred  ;  the  voices  gradually 
died  away  ;  the  gossipers  nodded  and  dozed,  and 
sunk  to  rest ;  and,  by. degrees,  silence  and  sleep 
once  more  stole  over  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Beaver  Dam. — Buffalo  and  Horse  Tracks. — A  Pawnee 
Trail.— Wild  Horses.  — Tlie  Young  Hunter  and  the 
Bear.  —  Change  of  Route. 

ON  mustering  our  forces  in  the  morning  (October 
23d),  old  Ryan  and  his  comrade  were  still  missing  ; 
but  the  Captain  had  such  perfect  reliance  on  the 
skill  and  resources  of  the  veteran  woodsman,  that 
he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  take  any  measures 
with  respect  to  him. 

Our  march  this  day  lay  through  the  same  kind 
of  rough  rolling  country  ;  checkered   by  brown 


466 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


dreary  forests  of  post-oak,  and  cut  up  by  deep 
dry  ravines.  The  distant  fires  were  evidently  in- 
creasing on  the  prairies.  The  wind  had  been  at 
northwest  for  several  days  ;  and  the  atmosphere 
had  become  so  smoky,  as  in  the  height  of  Indian 
summer,  that  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  ob- 
jects at  any  distance. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  we  crossed  a  deep 
stream  with  a  complete  beaver  dam,  above  three 
feet  high,  making  a  large  pond,  and  doubtless 
containing  several  families  of  that  industrious 
animal,  though  not  one  showed  his  nose  above 
water.  The  Captain  would  not  permit  this  am- 
phibious commonwealth  to  be  disturbed. 

We  were  now  continually  coming  upon  the 
tracks  of  buffaloes  and  wild  horses  ;  those  of  the 
former  tended  invariably  to  the  south,  as  we 
could  perceive  by  the  direction  of  the  trampled 
grass.  It  was  evident  we  were  on  the  great  high- 
way of  these  migratory  herds,  but  that  they  had 
chiefly  passed  to  the  southward. 

Beatte,  who  generally  kept  a  parallel  course 
several  hundred  yards  distant  from  our  line  of 
march,  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  game,  and  who 
regarded  every  track  with  the  knowing  eye  of  an 
Indian,  reported  that  he  had  come  upon  a  very 
suspicious  trail.  There  were  the  tracks  of  men- 
who  wore  Pawnee  moccasons.  He  had  scented 
the  smoke  of  mingled  sumach  and  tobacco,  such 
as  the  Indians  use.  He  had  observed  tracks  of 
horses,  mingled  with  those  of  a  dog  ;  and  a  mark 
in  the  dust  where  a  cord  had  been  trailed  along  ; 
probably  the  long  bridle,  one  end  of  which  the 
Indian  horsemen  suffer  to  trail  on  the  ground.  It 
was  evident,  they  were  not  the  tracks  of  wild 
horses.  My  anxiety  began  to  revive  about  the 
safety  of  our  veteran  hunter  Ryan,  for  I  had  taken 
a  great  fancy  to  this  real  old  Leatherstocking ; 
every  one  expressed  a  confidence,  however,  that 
wherever  Ryan  was,  he  was  safe,  and  knew  how 
to  take  care  of  himself. 

We  had  accomplished  the  greater  part  of  a 
weary  day's  march,  and  were  passing  through  a 
glade  of  the  oak  openings,  when  we  came  in  sight 
of  six  wild  horses,  among  which  I  especially 
noticed  two  very  handsome  ones,  a  gray  and  a 
roan.  They  pranced  about,  with  heads  erect, 
and  long  flaunting  tails,  offering  a  proud  contrast 
to  our  poor,  spiritless,  travel-tired  steeds.  Hav- 
ing reconnoitred  us  for  a  moment,  they  set  off  at 
a  gallop,  passed  through  a  woody  dingle,  and  in 
a  little  while  emerged  once  more  to  view,  trot- 
ting up  a  slope  about  a  mile  distant. 

The  sight  of  these  horses  was  again  a  sore  trial 
to  the  vaporing  Tonish,  who  had  his  lariat  and 
forked  stick  ready,  and  was  on  the  point  of  launch- 
ing forth  in  pursuit,  on  his  jaded  horse,  when  he 
was  again  ordered  back  to  the  pack-horses. 

After  a  day's  journey  of  fourteen  miles  in  a 
southwest  direction,  we  encamped  on  the  banks 
of  a  small  clear  stream,  on  the  northern  border 
of  the  Cross  Timbers  ;  and  on  the  edge  of  those 
vast  prairies,  that  extend  away  to  the  foot  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  In  turning  loose  the  horses 
to  graze,  their  bells  were  stuffed  with  grass  to 
prevent  their  tinkling,  lest  it  might  be  heard  by 
some  wandering  horde  of  Pawnees. 

Our  hunters  now  went  out  in  different  direc- 
tions, but  without  much  success,  as  but  one  deer 
was  brought  into  the  camp.  A  young  ranger  had 
a  long  story  to  tell  of  his  adventures.  In  skirting 
the  thickets  of  a  deep  ravine  he  had  wounded  a 
buck,  which  he  plainly  heard  to  fall  among  the 
bushes.  He  stopped  to  fix  the  lock  of  his  rifi£, 
which  was  out  of  order,  and  to  reload  it ;  then 


advancing  to  the  edge  of  the  thicket,  in  quest  of 
his  game,  he  heard  a  low  growling.  Putting  the 
branches  aside,  and  stealing  silently  forward,  he 
looked  down  into  the  ravine  and  beheld  a  huge 
bear  dragging  the  carcass  of  the  deer  along  the 
dry  channel  of  a  brook,  and  growling  and  snarl- 
ing at  four  or  five  officious  wolves,  who  seemed  to 
have  dropped  in  to  take  supper  with  him. 

The  ranger  fired  at  the  bear,  but  missed  him. 
Bruin  maintained  his  ground  and  his  prize,  and 
seemed  disposed  to  make  battle.  The  wolves, 
too,  who  were  evidently  sharp  set,  drew  off  to 
but  a  small  distance.  As  night  was  coming  on, 
the  young  hunter  felt  dismayed  at  the  wildness 
and  darkness  of  the  place,  and  the  strange  com- 
pany he  had  fallen  in  with  ;  so  he  quietly  with- 
drew, and  returned  empty  handed  to  the  camp, 
where,  having  told  his  story,  he  was  heartily  ban- 
tered by  his  more  experienced  comrades. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  old  Ryan  came 
straggling  into  the  camp,  followed  by  his  disciple, 
and  as  usual  was  received  with  hearty  gratula- 
tions.  He  had  lost  himself  yesterday,  when  hunt- 
ing, and  camped  out  all  night,  but  had  found  our 
trail  in  the  morning,  and  followed  it  up.  He  had 
passed  some  time  at  the  beaver  dam,  admiring 
the  skill  and  solidity  with  which  it  had  been  con- 
structed. "  These  beavers,"  said  he,  "  are  in- 
dustrious little  fellows.  They  are  the  knowingest 
varment  as  I  know ;  and  I'll  warrant  the  pond 
was  stocked  with  them." 

"  Aye,"  said  the  Captain,  "  I  have  no  doubt 
most  of  the  small  rivers  we  have  passed  are  full 
of  beaver.  I  would  like  to  come  and  trap  on 
these  waters  all  winter." 

"  But  would  you  not  run  the  chance  of  being 
attacked  by  Indians  ?  "  asked  one  of  the  com- 
pany. 

"  Oh,  as  to  that,  it  would  be  safe  enough  here, 
in  the  winter  time.  There  would  be  no  Indians 
here  until  spring.  I  should  want  no  more  than 
two  companions.  Three  persons  are  safer  than 
a  large  number  for  trapping  beaver.  They  can 
keep  quiet,  and  need  seldom  fire  a  gun.  A  bear 
would  serve  them  for  food,  for  two  months,  tak- 
ing care  to  turn  every  part  of  it  to  advan- 
tage." 

A  consultation  was  now  held  as  to  our  future 
progress.  We  had  thus  far  pursued  a  western 
course  ;  and,  having  traversed  the  Cross  Timber, 
were  on  the  skirts  of  the  Great  Western  Prairie. 
We  were  still,  however,  in  a  very  rough  country, 
where  food  was  scarce.  The  season  was  so  far 
advanced  that  the  grass  was  withered,  and  the 
prairies  yielded  no  pasturage.  The  pea-vines 
of  the  bottoms,  also,  which  had  sustained  our 
horses  for  some  part  of  the  journey,  were  nearly 
gone,  and  for  several  days  past  the  poor  animals 
had  fallen  off  wofully  both  in  flesh  and  spirit. 
The  Indian  fires  on  the  prairies  were  approach- 
ing us  from  north,  and  south,  and  west  ;  they 
might  spread  also  from  the  cast,  and  leave  a 
scorched  desert  between  us  and  the  frontier,  in 
which  our  horses  might  be  famished. 

It  was  determined,  therefore,  to  advance  no 
further  to  the  westward,  but  to  shape  our  course 
more  to  the  east,  so  as  to  strike  the  north  fork  of 
the  Canadian,  as  soon  as  possible,  where  we 
hoped  to  find  abundance  of  young  cane,  which, 
at  this  season  of  the  year,  affords  the  most  nutri- 
tious pasturage  for  the  horses  ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  attracts  immense  quantities  of  game.  Here 
then  we  fixed  the  limits  of  our  tour  to  the  Far 
West,  being  within  little  more  than  a  day's  march 
of  the  boundary  line  of  Texas. 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


467 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Scarcity    of  Dread. — Rencontre    with    Buffaloes, —  Wild 
Turkeys.— Fall  of  a  Buffalo  Bull. 

THE  morning  broke  bright  and  clear,  but  the 
camp  had  nothing  of  its  usual  gayety.  The  con- 
cert of  the  farmyard  was  at  an  end  ;  not  a  cock 
crew,  nor  dog  barked  ;  nor  was  there  either  sing- 
ing or  laughing ;  every  one  pursued  his  avoca- 
tions quietly  and  gravely.  The  novelty  of  the 
expedition  was  wearing  off.  Some  of  the  young 
men  were  getting  as  way-worn  as  their  horses  ; 
and  most  of  them,  unaccustomed  to  the  hunter's 
life,  began  to  repine  at  its  privations.  What 
they  most  felt  was  the  want  of  bread,  their  ra- 
tions of  flour  having  been  exhausted  for  several 
days.  The  old  hunters,  who  had  often  experi- 
enced this  want,  made  light  of  it ;  and  Bcatte, 
accustomed  when  among  the  Indians  to  live  for 
months  without  it,  considered  it  a  mere  article  of 
luxury.  "  Bread,"  he  would  say  scornfully,  "  is 
only  fit  for  a  child." 

About  a  quarter  before  eight  o'clock,  we  turned 
our  backs  upon  the  Far  West,  and  set  off  in  a 
southeast  course,  along  a  gentle  valley.  After 
riding  a  few  miles,  Beatte,  who  kept  parallel  with 
us,  along  the  ridge  of  a  naked  hill  to  our  right, 
called  out  and  made  signals,  as  if  something  were 
coming  round  the  hill  to  intercept  us.  Some  who 
were  near  me  cried  out  that  it  was  a  party  of 
Pawnees.  A  skirt  of  thickets  hid  the  approach  of 
the  supposed  enemy  from  our  view.  We  heard 
a  trampling  among  the  brushwood.  My  horse 
looked  toward  the  place,  snorted  and  pricked 
up  his  ears,  when  presently  a  couple  of  large 
buffalo  bulls,  who  had  been  alarmed  by  Beatte, 
came  crashing  through  the  brake,  and  making 
directly  toward  us.  At  sight  of  us  they  wheeled 
round,  and  scuttled  along  a  narrow  defile  of  the 
hill.  In  an  instant  half  a  score  of  rifles  cracked 
off;  there  was  a  universal  whoop  and  halloo,  and 
away  went  half  the  troop,  helter-skelter  in  pur- 
suit, and  myself  among  the  number.  The  most 
of  us  soon  pulled  up,  and  gave  over  a  chase 
which  led  through  birch  and  brier,  and  break- 
neck ravines.  Some  few  of  the  rangers  persisted 
for  a  time  ;  but  eventually  joined  the  line,  slowly 
lagging  one  after  another.  One  of  them  re- 
turned on  foot ;  he  had  been  thrown  while  in 
full  chase  ;  his  rifle  had  been  broken  in  the  fall, 
and  his  horse,  retaining  the  spirit  of  the  rider,  had 
kept  on  after  the  buffalo.  It  was  a  melancholy  pre- 
dicament to  be  reduced  to  ;  without  horse  or  wea- 
pon in  the  midst  of  the  Pawnee  hunting  grounds. 

For  my  own  part,  I  had  been  fortunate  enough 
recently,  by  a  further  exchange,  to  get  posses- 
sion of  the  best  horse  in  the  troop  ;  a  full-blooded 
sorrel  of  excellent  bottom,  beautiful  form,  and 
most  generous  qualities. 

In  such  a  situation  it  almost  seems  as  if  a  man 
changes  his  nature  with  his  horse.  I  felt  quite 
like  another  being,  now  that  I  had  an  animal  un- 
der me,  spirited  yet  gentle,  docile  to  a  remark- 
able degree,  and  easy,  elastic,  and  rapid  in  all 
his  movements.  In  a  few  days  he  became  almost 
as  much  attached  to  me  as  a  dog  ;  would  follow 
me  when  I  dismounted,  would  come  to  me  in  the 
morning  to  be  noticed  and  caressed  ;  and  would 
put  his  muzzle  between  me  and  my  book,  as  I  sat 
reading  at  the  foot  of  a  tree.  The  feeling  I  had 
for  this  my  dumb  companion  of  the  prairies,  gave 
me  some  faint  idea  of  that  attachment  the  Arab  is 
said  to  entertain  for  the  horse  that  has  borne  him 
about  the  deserts. 


After  riding  a  few  miles  further,  we  came  to  a 
fine  meadow  with  a  broad  clear  stream  winding 
through  it,  on  the  banks  of  which  there  was  ex- 
cellent pasturage.  Here  we  at  once  came  to  a 
halt,  in  a  beautiful  grove  of  elms,  on  the  site  of 
an  old  Osage  encampment.  Scarcely  had  we 
dismounted,  when  a  universal  firing  of  rifles  took 
place  upon  a  large  flock  of  turkeys,  scattered 
about  the  grove,  which  proved  to  be  a  favorite 
roosting-place  for  these  simple  birds.  They  flew 
to  the  trees,  and  sat  perched  upon  their  branches, 
stretching  out  their  long  necks,  and  gazing  in  stu- 
pid astonishment,  until  eighteen  of  them  were 
shot  down. 

In  the  height  of  the  carnage,  word  was  brought 
that  there  were  four  buffaloes  in  a  neighboring 
meadow.  The  turkeys  were  now  abandoned  for 
nobler  game.  The  tired  horses  were  again 
mounted,  and  urged  to  the  chase.  In  a  little 
while  we  came  in  sight  of  the  buffaloes,  looking 
like  brown  hillocks  among  the  long  green  herb- 
age. Beatte  endeavored  'to  get  ahead  of  them 
and  turn  them  toward  us,  that  the  inexperienced 
hunters  might  have  a  chance.  They  ran  round  the 
base  of  a  rocky  hill,  that  hid  us  from  the  sight. 
Some  of  us  endeavored  to  cut  across  the  hill,  but 
became  entrapped  in  a  thick  wood,  matted  with 
grape-vines.  My  horse,  who,  under  his  former 
rider,  had  hunted  the  buffalo,  seemed  as  much  ex- 
cited as  myself,  and  endeavored  to  force  his  way 
through  the  bushes.  At  length  we  extricated 
ourselves,  and  galloping  over  the  hill,  I  found  our 
little  Frenchman, Tonish,  curvetting  on  horseback 
round  a  great  buffalo  which  he  had  wounded  too 
severely  to  fly,  and  which  he  was  keeping  em-, 
ployed  until  we  should  come  up.  There  was  a 
mixture  of  the  grand  and  the  comic,  in  beholding 
this  tremendous  animal  and  his  fantastic  assail- 
ant. The  buffalo  stood  with  his  shaggy  front 
always  presented  to  his  foe  ;  his  mouth  open,  his 
tongue  parched,  his  eyes  like  coals  of  fire,  and  his 
tail  erect  with  rage  ;  every  now  and  then  he 
would  make  a  faint  rush  upon  his  foe,  who  easily 
evaded  his  attack,  capering  and  cutting  all  kinds 
of  antics  before  him. 

We  now  made  repeated  shots  at  the  buffalo, 
but  they  glanced  into  his  mountain  of  flesh  with- 
out proving  mortal.  He  made  a  slow  and  grand 
retreat  into  the  shallow  river,  turning  upon  his 
assailants  whenever  they  pressed  upon  him  ;  and 
when  in  the  water,  took  his  stand  there  as  if  pre- 
pared to  sustain  a  siege.  A  rifle-ball,  however, 
more  fatally  lodged,  sent  a  tremor  through  his 
frame.  He  turned  and  attempted  to  wade  across 
the  stream,  but  after  tottering  a  few  paces,  slowly 
fell  upon  his  side  and  expired.  It  was  the  fall  of 
a  hero,  and  we  felt  somewhat  ashamed  of  the 
butchery  that  had  effected  it  ;  but,  after  the  first 
shot  or  two,  we  had  reconciled  it  to  our  feelings, 
by  the  old  plea  of  putting  the  poor  animal  out  of 
his  misery. 

Two  other  buffaloes  were  killed  this  evening,, 
but  they  were  all  bulls,  the  flesh  of  which  is  meagre 
and  hard,  at  this  season  of  the  year.  A  fat  buck 
yielded  us  more  savory  meat  for  our  evening's 
repast. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 
Ringing  the   Wild  Horse. 

WE  left  the  buffalo  camp  about  eight  o'clock,  and 
had  a  toilsome  and  harassing  march  of  two  hours, 
over  ridges  of  hills,  covered  with  a  ragged  meagre 


468 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


forest  of  scrub-oaks,  and  broken  by  deep  gullies. 
Among  the  oaks  I  observed  many  of  the  most 
diminutive  size  ;  some  not  above  a  foot  high,  yet 
bearing  abundance  of  small  acorns.  The  whole 
of  the  Cross  Timber,  in  fact,  abounds  with  mast. 
There  is  a  pine -oak  which  produces  an  acorn 
pleasant  to  the  taste,  and  ripening  early  in  the 
season. 

About  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  came  to 
where  this  line  of  rugged  hills  swept  down  into  a 
valley,  through  which  flowed  the  north  fork  of 
the  Red  River.  A  beautiful  meadow  about  half 
a  mile  wide,  enamelled  with  yellow  autumnal 
flowers,  stretched  for  two  or  three  miles  along 
the  foot  of  the  hills,  bordered  on  the  opposite  side 
by  the  river,  whose  bank  was  fringed  with  cotton- 
wood  trees,  the  bright  foliage  of  which  refreshed 
and  delighted  the  eye,  after  being  wearied  by  the 
contemplation  of  monotonous  wastes  of  brown 
forest. 

The  meadow  was  finely  diversified  by  groves 
and  clumps  of  trees,  so  happily  dispersed,  that 
they  seemed  as  if  set  out  by  the  hand  of  art.  As 
we  cast  our  eyes  over  this  fresh  and  delightful 
valley,  we  beheld  a  troop  of  wild  horses,  quietly 
grazing  on  a  green  lawn,  about  a  mile  distant  to 
our  right,  while  to  our  left,  at  nearly  the  same 
distance,  were  several  buffaloes ;  some  feeding, 
others  reposing  and  ruminating  among  the  high 
rich  herbage,  under  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  cot- 
ton-wood trees.  The  whole  had  the  appearance 
of  a  broad  beautiful  tract  of  pasture  land,  on  the 
highly  ornamented  estate  of  some  gentleman 
farmer,  with  his  cattle  grazing  about  the  lawns 
and  meadows. 

A  council  of  war  was  now  held,  and  it  was  de- 
termined to  profit  by  the  present  favorable  op- 
portunity, and  try  our  hand  at  the  grand  hunting 
manoeuvre,  which  is  called  ringing  the  wild  horse. 
This  requires  a  large  party  of  horsemen,  well 
mounted.  They  extend  themselves  in  each  di- 
rection, singly,  at  certain  distances  apart,  and 
gradually  form  a  ring  of  two  or  three  miles  in  cir- 
cumference, so  as  to  surround  the  game.  This 
has  to  be  done  with  extreme  care,  for  the  wild 
horse  is  the  most  readily  alarmed  inhabitant  of 
the  prairie,  and  can  scent  a  hunter  at  a  great  dis- 
tance, if  to  windward. 

The  ring  being  formed,  two  or  three  ride  to- 
ward the  horses,  who  start  off  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection. Whenever  they  approach  the  bounds 
of  the  ring,  however,  a  huntsman  presents  him- 
self and  turns  them  from  their  course.  In  this 
way,  they  are  checked  and  driven  back  at  every 
point ;  and  kept  galloping  round  and  round  this 
magic  circle,  until,  being  completely  tired  down, 
it  is  easy  for  the  hunters  to  ride  up  beside  them, 
and  throw  the  lariat  over  their  heads.  The 
prime  horses  of  most  speed,  courage,  and  bot- 
tom, however,  are  apt  to  break  through  and  es- 
cape, so  that,  in  general,  it  is  the  second-rate 
horses  that  are  taken. 

Preparations  were  now  made  for  a  hunt  of  the 
kind.  The  pack-horses  were  taken  into  the 
woods  and  firmly  tied  to  trees,  lest,  in  a  rush  of 
the  wild  horses,  they  should  break  away  with 
them.  Twenty-five  men  were  then  sent  under 
the  command  of  a  lieutenant,  to  steal  along  the 
edge  of  the  valley  within  the  strip  of  wood  that 
skirted  the  hills.  They  were  to  station  them- 
selves about  fifty  yards  apart,  within  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  and  not  advance  or  show  themselves 
until  the  horses  dashed  in  that  direction.  Twen- 
ty-five men  were  sent  across  the  valley,  to  steal 
in  like  manner  along  the  river  bank  that  bordered 


the  opposite  side,  and  to  station  themselves  among 
the  trees.  A  third  party,  of  about  the  same  num- 
ber, was  to  form  aline,  stretching  across  the  lower 
part  of  the  valley,  so  as  to  connect  the  two  wings. 
Beatte  and  our  other  half-breed,  Antoine,  to- 
gether with  the  ever-officious  Tonish,  were  to 
make  a  circuit  through  the  woods  so  as  to  get  to 
the  upper  part  of  the  valley,  in  the  rear  of  the 
horses,  and  to  drive  them  forward  into  the  kind 
of  sack  that  we  had  formed,  while  the  two  wings 
should  join  behind  them  and  make  a  complete 
circle. 

The  flanking  parties  were  quietly  extending 
themselves,  out  of  sight,  on  each  side  of  the  val- 
ley, and  the  residue  were  stretching  themselves, 
like  the  links  of  a  chain,  across  it,  when  the  wild 
horses  gave  signs  that  they  scented  an  enemy  ; 
snuffing  the  air,  snorting,  and  looking  about.  At 
length  they  pranced  off  slowly  toward  the  river, 
and  disappeared  behind  a  green  bank.  Here, 
had  the  regulations  of  the  chase  been  observed, 
they  would  have  been  quietly  checked  and  turned 
back  by  the  advance  of  a  hunter  from  among 
the  trees  ;  unluckily,  however,  we  had  our  wild- 
fire Jack-o'-lantern  little  Frenchman  to  deal  with. 
Instead  of  keeping  quietly  up  the  right  side  of 
the  valley,  to  get  above  the  horses,  the  moment 
he  saw  them  move  toward  the  river,  he  broke  out 
of  the  covert  of  woods,  and  dashed  furiously 
across  the  plain  in  pursuit  of  them,  being  mount- 
ed on  one  of  the  led  horses  belonging  to  the 
Count.  This  put  an  end  to  all  system.  The 
half-breeds  and  half  a  score  of  rangers  joined  in 
the  chase.  Away  they  all  went  over  the  green 
bank ;  in  a  moment  or  two  the  wild  horses  re- 
appeared, and  came  thundering  down  the  valley, 
with  Frenchman,  half-breeds,  and  rangers  gallop- 
ing and  yelling  like  devils  behind  them.  It  was 
in  vain  that  the  line  drawn  across  the  valley  at- 
tempted to  check  and  turn  back  the  fugitives. 
They  were  too  hotly  pressed  by  their  pursuers ; 
in  their  panic  they  dashed  through  the  line,  and 
clattered  down  the  plain.  The  whole  troop 
joined  in  the  headlong  chase,  some  of  the  rangers 
without  hats  or  caps,  their  hair  flying  about  their 
ears,  others  with  handkerchiefs  tied  round  their 
heads.  The  buffaloes,  who  had  been  calmly 
ruminating  among  the  herbage,  heaved  up  their 
huge  forms,  gazed  for  a  moment  with  astonish- 
ment at  the  tempest  that  came  scouring  down  the 
meadow,  then  turned  and  took  to  heavy-rolling 
flight.  They  were  soon  overtaken  ;  the  promis- 
cuous throng  were  pressed  together  by  the  con- 
tracting sides  of  the  valley,  and  away  they  went, 
pell-mell,  hurry-scurry,  wild  buffalo,  wild  horse, 
wild  huntsman,  with  clang  and  clatter,  and  whoop 
and  halloo,  that  made  the  forests  ring. 

At  length  the  buffaloes  turned  into  a  green 
brake  on  the  river  bank,  while  the  horses  dashed 
up  a  narrow  defile  of  the  hills,  with  their  pursuers 
close  at  their  heels.  Beatte  passed  several  of 
them,  having  fixed  his  eye  upon  a  fine  Pawnee 
horse,  that  had  his  ears  slit,  and  saddle-marks 
upon  his  back.  He  pressed  him  gallantly,  but 
lost  him  in  the  woods.  Among  the  wild  horses 
was  a  fine  black  mare,  far  gone  with  foal.  In 
scrambling  up  the  defile,  she  tripped  and  fell. 
A  young  ranger  sprang  from  his  horse,  and 
seized  her  by  the  mane  and  muzzle.  Another 
ranger  dismounted,  and  came  to  his  assistance. 
The  mare  struggled  fiercely,  kicking  and  biting, 
and  striking  with  her  fore  feet,  but  a  noose  was 
slipped  over  her  head,  and  her  struggles  were  in 
vain.  It  was  some  time,  however,  before  she  gave 
over  rearing  and  plunging,  and  lashing  out  with 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


469 


her  feet  on  every  side.  The  two  rangers  then 
led  her  along  the  valley  by  two  long  lariats, 
which  enabled  them  to  keep  at  a  sufficient  dis- 
tance on  each  side  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  her 
hoofs,  and  whenever  she  struck  out  in  one  direc- 
tion, she  was  jerked  in  the  other.  In  this  way  her 
spirit  was  gradually  subdued. 

As  to  little  Scaramouch  Tonish,  who  had 
marred  the  whole  scene  by  his  precipitancy,  he 
had  been  more  successful  than  he  deserved,  hav- 
ing managed  to  catch  a  beautiful  cream-colored 
colt,  about  seven  months  old,  which  had  not 
strength  to  keep  up  with  its  companions.  The 
mercurial  little  Frenchman  was  beside  himself 
with  exultation.  It  was  amusing  to  see  him  with 
his  prize.  The  colt  would  rear  and  kick,  and 
struggle  to  get  free,  when  Tonish  would  take  him 
about  the  neck,  wrestle  with  him,  jump  on  his 
back,  and  cut  as  many  antics  as  a  monkey  with 
a  kitten.  Nothing  surprised  me  more,  however, 
than  to  witness  how  soon  these  poor  animals, 
thus  taken  from  the  unbounded  freedom  of  the 
prairie,  yielded  to  the  dominion  of  man.  In  the 
course  of  two  or  three  days  the  mare  and  colt 
went  with  the  led  horses,  and  became  quite  do- 
cile. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Fording  of  the  North  Fork. — Dreary  Scenery  of  the  Cross 
Timber. — Scamper  of  Horses  in  the  Night.  —  Osage 
War  Party. — Effects  of  a  Peate  Harangue. — Buffalo. 
—  Wild  Horse. 

RESUMING  our  march,  we  forded  the  North 
Fork,  a  rapid  stream,  and  of  a  purity  seldom  to 
be  found  in  the  rivers  of  the  prairies.  It  evi- 
dently had  its  sources  in  high  land,  well  supplied 
with  springs.  After  crossing  the  river,  we  again 
ascended  among  hills,  from  one  of  which  we  had 
an  extensive  view  over  this  belt  of  cross  timber, 
and  a  cheerless  prospect  it  was  ;  hill  beyond  hill, 
forest  beyond  forest,  all  of  one  sad  russet  hue — 
excepting  that  here  and  there  a  line  of  green 
cotton-wood  trees,  sycamores,  and  willows, 
marked  the  course  of  some  streamlet  through  a 
valley.  A  procession  of  buffaloes,  moving  slowly 
up  the  profile  of  one  of  those  distant  hills,  formed 
a  characteristic  object  in  the  savage  scene.  To 
the  left,  the  eye  stretched  beyond  this  rugged 
wilderness  of  hills,  and  ravines,  and  ragged 
forests,  to  a  prairie  about  ten  miles  off,  extending 
in  a  clear  blue  line  along  the  horizon.  It  was 
like  looking  from  among  rocks  and  breakers  upon 
a  distant  tract  of  tranquil  ocean.  Unluckily,  our 
route  did  not  lie  in  that  direction ;  we  still  had  to 
traverse  many  a  weary  mile  of  the  "cross  tim- 
ber." 

We  encamped  toward  evening  in  a  valley,  be- 
side a  scanty  pool,  under  a  scattered  grove  of 
elms,  the  upper  branches  of  which  were  fringed 
with  tufts  of  the  mystic  mistletoe.  In  the  course 
of  the  night,  the  wild  colt  whinnied  repeatedly ; 
and  about  two  hours  before  day,  there  was  a  sud- 
den stampedo,  or  rush  of  horses,  along  the  pur- 
lieus of  the  camp,  with  a  snorting  and  neighing, 
and  clattering  of  hoofs,  that  startled  most  of  the 
rangers  from  their  sleep,  who  listened  in  silence, 
until  the  sound  died  away  like  the  rushing  of  a 
blast.  As  usual,  the  noise  was  at  first  attributed 
to  some  party  of  marauding  Indians,  but  as  the 
day  dawned,  a  couple  of  wild  horses  were  seen  in 
a  neighboring  meadow,  which  scoured  off  on 
being  approached.  It  was  now  supposed  that  a 


gang  of  them  had  dashed  through  our  camp  in 
the  night.  A  general  mustering  of  our  horses 
took  place,  many  were  found  scattered  to  a  con- 
siderable distance,  and  several  were  not  to  be 
found.  The  prints  of  their  hoofs,  however,  ap- 
peared deeply  dinted  in  the  soil,  leading  off  at 
full  speed  into  the  waste,  and  their  owners,  put- 
ting themselves  on  the  trail,  set  off  in  weary 
search  of  them. 

We  had  a  ruddy  daybreak,  but  the  morning 
gathered  up  gray  and  lowering,  with  indications 
of  an  autumnal  storm.  We  resumed  our  march 
silently  and  seriously,  through  a  rough  and  cheer- 
less country,  from  the  highest  points  of  which  we 
could  descry  large  prairies,  stretching  indefinitely 
westward.  After  travelling  for  two  or  three  hours, 
as  we  were  traversing  a  withered  prairie,  resem- 
bling a  great  brown  heath,  we  beheld  seven  Osage 
warriors  approaching  at  a  distance.  The  sight 
of  any  human  being  in  this  lonely  wilderness  was 
interesting ;  it  was  like  speaking  a  ship  at  sea. 
One  of  the  Indians  took  the  lead  of  his  compan- 
ions, and  advanced  toward  us  with  head  erect, 
chest  thrown  forward,  and  a  free  and  noble  mien. 
He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow,  dressed  in  scarlet 
frock  and  fringed  leggings  of  deer  skin.  His  head 
was  decorated  with  a  white  tuft,  and  he  stepped 
forward  with  something  of  a  martial  air,  swaying 
his  bow  and  arrows  in  one  hand. 

We  held  some  conversation  with  him  through 
our  interpreter,  Bcatte,  and  found  that  he  and 
his  companions  had  been  with  the  main  part  of 
their  tribe  hunting  the  buffalo,  and  had  met  with 
great  success  ;  and  he  informed  us,  that  in  the 
course  of  another  day's  march,  we  would  reach 
the  prairies  on  the  banks  of  the  Grand  Canadian, 
and  find  plenty  of  game.  He  added,  that  as 
their  hunt  was  over,  and  the  hunters  on  their  re- 
turn homeward,  he  and  his  comrades  had  set  out 
on  a  war  party,  to  waylay  and  hover  about  some 
Pawnee  camp,  in  hopes  of  carrying  off  scalps  or 
horses. 

By  this  time  his  companions,  who  at  first  stood 
aloof,  joined  him.  Three  of  them  had  indifferent 
fowling-pieces ;  the  rest  were  armed  with  bows 
and  arrows.  I  could  not  but  admire  the  finely 
shaped  heads  and  busts  of  these  savages,  and 
their  graceful  attitudes  and  expressive  gestures, 
as  they  stood  conversing  with  our  interpreter, 
and  surrounded  by  a  cavalcade  of  rangers.  We 
endeavored  to  get  one  of  them  to  join  us,  as  we 
were  desirous  of  seeing  him  hunt  the  buffalo  with 
his  bow  and  arrow.  He  seemed  at  first  inclined 
to  do  so,  but  was  dissuaded  by  his  companions. 

The  worthy  Commissioner  now  remembered 
his  mission  as  pacificator,  and  made  a  speech, 
exhorting  them  to  abstain  from  all  offensive  acts 
against  the  Pawnees  ;  informing  them  of  the  plan 
of  their  father  at  Washington,  to  put  an  end  to 
all  war  among  his  red  children  ;  and  assuring 
them  that  he  was  sent  to  the  frontier  to  establish 
a  universal  peace.  He  told  them,  therefore,  to 
return  quietly  to  their  homes,  with  the  certainty 
that  the  Pawnees  would  no  longer  molest  them, 
but  would  soon  regard  them  as  brothers. 

The  Indians  listened  to  the  speech  with  their 
customary  silence  and  decorum ;  after  which, 
exchanging  a  few  words  among  themselves,  they 
bade  us  farewell,  and  pursued  their  way  across 
the  prairie. 

Fancying  that  I  saw  a  lurking  smile  in  the 
countenance  of  our  interpreter,  Beattc,  I  pri- 
vately inquired  what  the  Indians  had  said  to  each 
other  after  hearing  the  speech.  The  leader,  he 
said,  had  observed  to  his  companions,  that,  as 


470 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


their  great  father  intended  so  soon  to  put  an  end 
to  all  warfare,  it  behooved  them  to  make  the 
most  of  the  little  time  that  was  left  them.  So 
they  had  departed,  with  redoubled  zeal,  to  pur- 
sue their  project  of  horse  stealing! 

We  had  not  long  parted  from  the  Indians  be- 
fore we  discovered  three  buffaloes  among  the 
thickets  of  a  marshy  valley  to  our  left.  I  set  off 
with  the  Captain  and  several  rangers,  in  pursuit 
of  them.  Stealing  through  a  straggling  grove, 
the  Captain,  who  took  the  lead,  got  within  rifle- 
shot, and  wounded  one  of  them  in  the  flank. 
They  all  three  made  off  in  headlong  panic, 
through  thickets  and  brushwood,  and  swamp  and 
mire,  bearing  down  every  obstacle  by  their  im- 
mense weight.  The  Captain  and  rangers  soon 
gave  up  a  chase  which  threatened  to  knock  up 
their  horses  ;  I  had  got  upon  the  traces  of  the 
wounded  bull,  however,  and  was  in  hopes  of  get- 
ting near  enough  to  use  my  pistols,  the  only 
weapons  with  which  I  was  provided  ;  but  before 
I  could  effect  it,  he  reached  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
hill,  covered  with  post-oak  and  brambles,  and 
plunged  forward,  dashing  and  crashing  along, 
with  neck  or  nothing  fury,  where  it  would  have 
been  madness  to  have  followed  him. 

The  chase  had  led  me  so  far  on  one  side,  that 
it  was  some  time  before  I  regained  the  trail  of 
our  troop.  As  I  was  slowly  ascending  a  hill,  a 
fine  black  mare  came  prancing  round  the  sum- 
mit, and  was  close  to  me  before  she  was  aware. 
At  sight  of  me  she  started  back,  then  turning, 
swept  at  full  speed  down  into  the  valley,  and  up 
the  opposite  hill,  with  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and 
action  free  as  air.  I  gazed  after  her  as  long  as 
she  was  in  sight,  and  breathed  a  wish  that  so 
glorious  an  animal  might  never  come  under  the 
degrading  thraldom  of  whip  and  curb,  but  remain 
a  free  rover  of  the  prairies. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

foul  \Vcatker  Encampment. — Anecdotes  of  Dear  Hunting. 
— Indian  Motions  about  Omens. — Scruples  Respecting 
the  Dead. 

ON  overtaking  the  troop,  I  found  it  encamping 
in  a  rich  bottom  of  woodland,  traversed  by  a 
small  stream,  running  between  deep  crumbling 
banks.  A  sharp  cracking  off  of  rifles  was  kept 
up  for  some  time  in  various  directions,  upon  a 
numerous  flock  of  turkeys,  scampering  among 
the  thickets,  or  perched  upon  the  trees.  We  had 
not  been  long  at  a  halt,  when  a  drizzling  rain 
ushered  in  the  autumnal  storm  that  had  been 
brewing.  Preparations  were  immediately  made 
to  weather  it ;  our  tent  was  pitched,  and  our  sad- 
dles, saddlebags,  packages  of  coffee,  sugar,  salt, 
and  every  thing  else  that  could  be  damaged  by 
the  rain,  were  gathered  under  its  shelter.  Our 
men,  Beatte,  Tonish,  and  Antoine,  drove  stakes 
with  forked  ends  into  the  ground,  laid  poles  across 
them  for  rafters,  and  thus  made  a  shed  or  pent- 
house, covered  with  bark  and  skins,  sloping  to- 
ward the  wind,  and  open  toward  the  fire.  The  ran- 
gers formed  similar  shelters  of  bark  and  skins, 
or  of  blankets  stretched  on  poles,  supported  by 
forked  stakes,  with  great  fires  in  front. 

These  precautions  were  well  timed.  The  rain 
set  in  sullenly  and  steadily,  and  kept  on,  with 
slight  intermissions,  for  two  days.  The  brook 
which  flowed  peacefully  on  our  arrival,  swelled 
into  a  turbid  and  boiling  torrent,  and  the  forest 


became  little  better  than  a  mere  swamp.  The 
men  gathered  under  their  shelters  of  skins  and 
blankets,  or  sat  cowering  round  their  fires  ;  while 
columns  of  smoke  curling  up  among  the  trees, 
and  diffusing  themselves  in  the  air,  spread  a  blue 
haze  through  the  woodland.  Our  poor,  way-worn 
horses,  reduced  by  weary  travel  and  scanty  pas- 
turage, lost  all  remaining  spirit,  and  stood,  with 
drooping  heads,  flagging  ears,  and  half-closed 
eyes,  dozing  and  steaming  in  the  rain,  while  the 
yellow  autumnal  leaves,  at  every  shaking  of  the 
breeze,  came  wavering  down  around  them. 

Notwithstanding  the  bad  weather,  however, 
our  hunters  were  not  idle,  but  during  the  inter- 
vals of  the  rain,  sallied  forth  on  horseback  to 
prowl  through  the  woodland.  Every  now  and 
then  the  sharp  report  of  a  distant  rifle  boded  the 
death  of  a  deer.  Venison  in  abundance  was 
brought  in.  Some  busied  themselves  under  the 
sheds,  flaying  and  cutting  up  the  carcasses,  or 
round  the  fires  with  spits  and  camp  kettles,  and 
a  rude  kind  of  feasting,  or  rather  gormandizing, 
prevailed  throughout  the  camp.  The  axe  was 
continually  at  work,  and  wearied  the  forest  with 
its  echoes.  Crash !  some  mighty  tree  would 
come  down  ;  in  a  few  minutes  its  limbs  would  be 
blazing  and  crackling  on  the  huge  camp  fires, 
with  some  luckless  deer  roasting  before  it,  that 
had  once  sported  beneath  its  shade. 

The  change  of  weather  had  taken  sharp  hold 
of  our  little  Frenchman.  His  meagre  frame, 
composed  of  bones  and  whip-cord,  was  racked 
with  rheumatic  pains  and  twinges.  He  had  the 
toothache — the  earache — his  face  was  tied  up — 
he  had  shooting  pains  in  every  limb  ;  yet  all 
seemed  but  to  increase  his  restless  activity,  and 
he  was  an  incessant  fidget  about  the  fire,  roast- 
ing, and  stewing,  and  groaning,  and  scolding, 
and  swearing. 

Our  man  Beatte  returned  grim  and  mortified, 
from  hunting.  He  had  come  upon  a  bear  of  for- 
midable dimensions,  and  wounded  him  with  a 
rifle-shot.  The  bear  took  to  the  brook,  which 
was  swollen  and  rapid.  Beatte  dashed  after  him 
and  assailed  him  in  the  rear  with  his  hunting- 
knife.  At  every  blow  the  bear  turned  furiously 
upon  him,  with  a  terrific  display  of  white  teeth. 
Beatte,  having  a  foothold  in  the  brook,  was  en- 
abled to  push  him  off  with  his  rifle,  and,  when  he 
turned  to  swim,  would  flounder  after,  and  at- 
tempt to  hamstring  him.  The  bear,  however, 
succeeded  in  scrambling  off  among  the  thickets, 
and  Beatte  had  to  give  up  the  chase. 

This  adventure,  if  it  produced  no  game,  brought 
up  at  least  several  anecdotes,  round  the  evening 
fire,  relative  to  bear  hunting,  in  which  the  grizzly 
bear  figured  conspicuously.  This  powerful  and 
ferocious  animal  is  a  favorite  theme  of  hunter's 
story,  both  among  red  and  white  men  ;  and  his 
enormous  claws  are  worn  round  the  neck  of  an 
Indian  brave  as  a  trophy  more  honorable  than  a 
human  scalp.  He  is  now  scarcely  seen  below 
the  upper  prairies  and  the  skirts  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  Other  bears  are  formidable  when 
wounded  and  provoked,  but  seldom  make  battle 
when  allowed  to  escape.  The  grizzly  bear  alone, 
of  all  the  animals  of  our  Western  wilds,  is  prone 
to  unprovoked  hostility.  His  prodigious  size  and 
strength  make  him  a  formidable  opponent  ;  and 
his  great  tenacity  of  life  often  baffles  the  skill  of 
the  hunter,  notwithstanding  repeated  shots  of  the 
rifle,  and  wounds  of  the  hunting-knife. 

One  of  the  anecdotes  related  on  this  occasion, 
gave  a  picture  of  the  accidents  and  hard  shifts 
to  which  our  frontier  rovers  are  inured.  A  hunter, 


A  TOUR  ON  THE   PRAIRIES. 


471 


while  in  pursuit  of  a  deer,  fell  into  one  of  those 
deep  funnel-shaped  pits,  formed  on  the  prairies 
by  the  settling  of  the  waters  after  heavy  rains, 
and  known  by  the  name  of  sink-holes.  To  his 
great  horror,  he  came  in  contact,  at  the  bottom, 
with  a  huge  grizzly  bear.  The  monster  grappled 
him  ;  a  deadly  contest  ensued,  in  which  the  poor 
hunter  was  severely  torn  and  bitten,  and  had  a 
leg  and  an  arm  broken,  but  succeeded  in  killing 
his  rugged  foe.  For  several  days  he  remained  at 
the  bottom  of  the  pit,  too  much  crippled  to  move, 
and  subsisting  on  the  raw  flesh  of  the  bear,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  kept  his  wounds  open,  that 
they  might  heal  gradually  and  effectually.  He 
was  at  length  enabled  to  scramble  to  the  top  of  the 
pit,  and  so  out  upon  the  open  prairie.  With  great 
difficulty  he  crawled  to  a  ravine,  formed  by  a 
stream,  then  nearly  dry.  Here  he  took  a  de- 
licious draught  of  water,  which  infused  new  life 
into  him  ;  then  dragging  himself  along  from  pool 
to  pool,  he  supported  himself  by  small  fish  and 
frogs. 

One  day  he  saw  a  wolf  hunt  down  and  kill  a 
deer  in  the  neighboring  prairie.  He  immediately 
crawled  forth  from  the  ravine,  drove  off  the  wolf, 
and,  lying  down  beside  the  carcass  of  the  deer, 
remained  there  until  he  made  several  hearty 
meals,  by  which  his  strength  was  much  recruited. 

Returning  to  the  ravine,  he  pursued  the  course 
of  the  brook,  until  it  grew  to  be  a  considerable 
stream.  Down  this  he  floated,  until  he  came  to 
where  it  emptied  into  the  Mississippi.  Just  at 
the  mouth  of  the  stream,  he  found  a  forked  tree, 
which  he  launched  with  some  difficulty,  and, 
getting  astride  of  it,  committed  himself  to  the 
current  of  the  mighty  river.  In  this  way  he 
floated  along,  until  he  arrived  opposite  the  fort 
at  Council  Bluffs.  Fortunately  he  arrived  there 
in  the  daytime,  otherwise  he  might  have  floated, 
unnoticed,  past  this  solitary  post,  and  perished 
in  the  idle  waste  of  waters.  Being  descried  from 
the  fort,  a  canoe  was  sent  to  his  relief,  and  he  was 
brought  to  shore  more  dead  than  alive,  where  he 
soon  recovered  from  his  wounds,  but  remained 
maimed  for  life. 

Our  man  Beatte  had  come  out  of  his  contest 
with  the  bear  very  much  worsted  and  discomfited. 
His  drenching  in  the  brook,  together  with  the 
recent  change  of  weather,  had  brought  on  rheu- 
matic pains  in  his  limbs,  to  which  he  is  subject. 
Though  ordinarily  a  fellow  of  undaunted  spirit, 
and  above  all  hardship,  yet  he  now  sat  down  by 
the  fire,  gloomy  and  dejected,  and  for  once  gave 
way  to  repining.  .  Though  in  the  prime  of  life, 
and  of  a  robust  frame,  and  apparently  iron  con- 
stitution, yet,  by  his  own  account  he  was  little 
better  than  a  mere  wreck.  He  was,  in  fact,  a 
living  monument  of  the  hardships  of  wild  frontier 
life.  Baring  his  left  arm,  he  showed  it  warped 
and  contracted  by  a  former  attack  of  rheumatism  ; 
a  malady  with  which  the  Indians  are  often  af- 
flicted ;  for  their  exposure  to  the  vicissitudes  of 
the  elements  does  not  produce  that  perfect  har- 
dihood and  insensibility  to  the  changes  of  the 
seasons  that  many  are  apt  to  imagine.  He  bore 
the  scars  of  various  maims  and  bruises  ;  some 
received  in  hunting,  some  in  Indian  warfare. 
His  right  arm  had  been  broken  by  a  fall  from  his 
horse  ;  at  another  time  his  steed  had  fallen  with 
him,  and  crushed  his  left  leg. 

"  I  am  all  broke  to  pieces  and  good  for  noth- 
ing ;  "  said  he,  "  I  no  care  now  what  happen  to 
me  any  more."  "  However,"  added  he,  after  a 
moment's  pause,  "  for  all  that,  it  would  take  a 
pretty  strong  man  to  put  me  down,  anyhow." 


I  drew  from  him  various  particulars  concerning 
himself,  which  served  to  raise  him  in  my  estima- 
tion. His  residence  was  on  the  Neosho,  in  an 
Osage  hamlet  or  neighborhood,  under  the  super- 
intendence of  a  worthy  missionary  from  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson,  by  the  name  of  Requa,  who  was 
endeavoring  to  instruct  the  savages  in  the  art  of 
agriculture,  and  to  make  husbandmen  and  herds- 
men of  them.  I  had  visited  this  agricultural 
mission  of  Requa  in  the  course  of  my  recent  tour 
along  the  frontier,  and  had  considered  it  more 
likely  to  produce  solid  advantages  to  the  poor 
Indians  than  any  of  the  mere  praying  and  preach- 
ing missions  along  the  border. 

In  this  neighborhood,  Pierre  Beatte  had  his 
little  farm,  his  Indian  wife,  and  his  half-breed 
children  ;  and  aided  Mr.  Requa  in  his  endeavors 
to  civilize  the  habits,  and  meliorate  the  condition 
of  the  Osage  tribe.  Beatte  had  been  brought  up 
a  Catholic,  and  was  inflexible  in  his  religious 
faith  ;  he  could  not  pray  with  Mr.  Requa,  he 
said,  but  he  could  work  with  him,  and  he  evinced 
a  zeal  for  the  good  of  his  savage  relations  and 
neighbors.  Indeed,  though  his  father  had  been 
French,  and  he  himself  had  been  brought  up  in 
communion  with  the  whites,  he  evidently  \vas 
more  of  an  Indian  in  his  tastes,  and  his  heart 
yearned  toward  his  mother's  nation.  When  he 
talked  to  me  of  the  wrongs  and  insults  that  the 
poor  Indians  suffered  in  their  intercourse  with  the 
rough.settlers  on  the  frontiers  ;  when  he  described 
the  precarious  and  degraded  state  of  the  Osage 
tribe,  diminished  in  numbers,  broken  in  spirit, 
and  almost  living  on  sufferance  in  the  land  where 
they  once  figured  so  heroically,  I  could  see  his 
veins  swell,  and  his  nostrils  distend  with  indigna- 
tion ;  but  he  would  check  the  feeling  with  a  strong 
exertion  of  Indian  self-command,  and,  in  a  man- 
ner, drive  it  back  into  his  bosom. 

He  did  not  hesitate  to  relate  an  instance  wherein 
he  had  joined  his  kindred  Osages,  in  pursuing  and 
avenging  themselves  on  a  party  of  white  men  who 
had  committed  a  flagrant  outrage  upon  them  ; 
and  I  found,  in  the  encounter  that  took  place, 
Beatte  had  shown  himself  the  complete  Indian. 

He  had  more  than  once  accompanied  his  Osage 
relations  in  their  wars  with  the  Pawnees,  and  re- 
lated a  skirmish  which  took  place  on  the  borders 
of  these  very  hunting  grounds,  in  which  several 
Pawnees  were  killed.  We  should  pass  near  the 
place,  he  said,  in  the  course  of  our  tour,  and  the 
unburied  bones  and  skulls  of  the  slain  were  still 
to  be  seen  there.  The  surgeon  of  the  troop,  who 
was  present  at  our  conversation,  pricked  up  his 
ears  at  this  intelligence.  He  was  something  of  a 
phrenologist,  and  offered  Beatte  a  handsome  re- 
ward if  he  would  procure  him  one  of  the  skulls. 

Beatte  regarded  him  for  a  moment  with  a  look 
of  stern  surprise. 

"  No  !  "  -said  he  at  length,  "dat  too  bad!  I 
have  heart  strong  enough— I  no  care  kill,  but  let 
the  dead  alone  !  " 

He  added,  that  once  in  travelling  with  a  party 
of  white  men,  he  had  slept  in  the  same  tent  with 
a  doctor,  and  found  that  he  had  a  Pawnee  skull 
among  his  baggage:  he  at  once  renounced  the 
doctor's  tent,  and  his  fellowship.  "  He  try  to 
coax  me,"  said  Beatte,  "  but  I  say  no,  we  must 
part — I  no  keep  such  company." 

In  the  temporary  depression  of  his  spirits, 
Beatte  gave  way  to  those  superstitious  forebod- 
ings to  which  Indians  are  prone.  He  had  sat  for 
some  time,  with  his  cheek  upon  his  hand,  gazing 
into  the  fire.  I  found  his  thoughts  were  wander- 
ing back  to  his  humble  home,  on  the  banks  of 


472 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


the  Neosho ;  he  was  sure,  he  said,  that  he  should 
find  some  one  of  his  family  ill,  or  dead,  on  his 
return:  his  left  eye  had  twitched  and  twinkled  for 
two  days  past ;  an  omen  which  always  boded 
some  misfortune  of  the  kind. 

Such  are  the  trivial  circumstances  which,  when 
magnified  into  omens,  will  shake  the  souls  of 
these  men  of  iron.  The  least  sign  of  mystic  and 
sinister  portent  is  sufficient  to  turn  a  hunter  or  a 
warrior  from  his  course,  or  to  fill  his  mind  with 
apprehensions  of  impending  evil.  It  is  this  su- 
perstitious propensity,  common  to  the  solitary  and 
savage  rovers  of  the  wilderness,  that  gives  such 
powerful  influence  to  the  prophet  and  the  dreamer. 

The  Osages,  with  whom  Beatte  had  passed 
much  of  his  life,  retain  these  superstitious  fan- 
cies and  rites  in  much  of  their  original  force. 
They  all  believe  in  the  existence  of  the  soul  after 
its  separation  from  the  body,  and  that  it  carries 
with  it  all  its  mortal  tastes  and  habitudes.  At  an 
Osage  village  in  the  neighborhood  of  Beatte,  one 
of  the  chief  warriors  lost  an  only  child,  a  beauti- 
ful girl,  of  a  very  tender  age.  All  her  playthings 
were  buried  with  her.  Her  favorite  little  horse, 
also,  was  killed,  and  laid  in  the  grave  beside  her, 
that  she  might  have  it  to  ride  in  the  land  of 
spirits. 

I  will  here  add  a  little  story,  which  I  picked  up 
in  the  course  of  my  tour  through  Beatte's  coun- 
try, and  which  illustrates  the  superstitions  of  his 
Osage  kindred.  A  large  party  of  Osages  had 
been  encamped  for  some  time  on  the  borders  of 
a  fine  stream,  called  the  Nickanansa.  Among 
them  was  a  young  hunter,  one  of  the  bravest  and 
most  graceful  of  the  tribe,  who  was  to  be  married 
to  an  Osage  girl,  who,  for  her  beauty,  was  called 
the  Flower  of  the  Prairies.  The  young  hunter 
left  her  for  a  time  among  her  relatives  in  the  en- 
campment, and  went  to  St.  Louis,  to  dispose  of 
the  products  of  his  hunting,  and  purchase  orna- 
ments for  his  bride.  After  an  absence  of  some 
weeks,  he  returned  to  the  banks  of  the  Nickan- 
ansa, but  the  camp  was  no  longer  there  ;  and  the 
bare  frames  of  the  lodges  and  the  brands  of  ex- 
tinguished fires  alone  marked  the  place.  At  a 
distance  he  beheld  a  female  seated,  as  if  weeping, 
by  the  side  of  the  stream.  It  was  his  affianced 
bride.  He  ran  to  embrace  her,  but  she  turned 
mournfully  away.  He  dreaded  lest  some  evil  had 
befallen  the  camp. 

'  Where  are  our  people  ?  "  cried  he. 
'  They  are   gone   to   the   banks   of  the   Wa- 
grushka." 

'  And  what  art  thou  doing  here  alone  ?  " 
'  Waiting  for  thee." 

'  Then  let  us  hasten  to  join  our  people  on  the 
banks  of  the  Wagrushka." 

He  gave  her  his  pack  to  carry,  and  walked 
ahead,  according  to  the  Indian  custom. 

They  came  to  where  the  smoke  of  'the  distant 
camp  was  seen  rising  from  the  woody  margin  of 
the  stream.  The  girl  seated  herself  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree.  "  It  is  not  proper  for  us  to  return  to- 
gether," said  she  ;  "  I  will  wait  here." 

The  young  hunter  proceeded  to  the  camp 
alone,  and  was  received  by  his  relations  with 
gloomy  countenances. 

"  What  evil  has  happened,"  said  he,  "  that  ye 
are  all  so  sad  ?  " 

No  one  replied. 

He  turned  to  his  favorite  sister,  and  bade  her 
go  forth,  seek  his  bride,  and  conduct  her  to  the 
camp. 

"Alas '"cried  she,  "  how  shall  I  seek  her? 
She  died  a  few  days  since." 


The  relations  of  the  young  girl  now  surrounded 
him,  weeping  and  wailing  ;  but  he  refused  to  be- 
lieve the  dismal  tidings.  "But  a  few  moments 
since,"  cried  he,  "  I  left  her  alone  and  in  health  : 
come  with  me,  and  I  will  conduct  you  to  her." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  tree  where  she  had 
seated  herself,  but  she  was  no  longer  there,  and 
his  pack  lay  on  the  ground.  The  fatal  truth 
struck  him  to  the  heart ;  he  fell  to  the  ground 
dead. 

I  give  this  simple  story  almost  in  the  words  in 
which  it  was  related  to  me,  as  I  lay  by  the  fire  in 
an  evening  encampment  on  the  banks  of  the 
haunted  stream  where  it  is  said  to  have  happened. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A  Secret  Expedition. — Deer  Bleating. — Magic  Balls. 

ON  the  following  morning  we  were  rejoined  by 
the  rangers  who  had  remained  at  the  last  en- 
campment, to  seek  for  the  stray  horses.  They 
had  tracked  them  for  a  considerable  distance 
through  bush  and  brake,  and  across  streams, 
until  they  found  them  cropping  the  herbage  on 
the  edge  of  a  prairie.  Their  heads  were  in  the 
direction  of  the  fort,  and  they  were  evidently 
grazing  their  way  homeward,  heedless  of  the  un- 
bounded freedom  of  the  prairie  so  suddenly  laid 
open  to  them. 

About  noon  the  weather  held  up,  and  I  ob- 
served a  mysterious 'consultation  going  on  be- 
tween our  half-breeds  and  Tonish  ;  it  ended  in  a 
request  that  we  would  dispense  with  the  services 
of  the  latter  for  a  few  hours,  and  permit  him  to 
join  his  comrades  in  a  grand  foray.  We  objected 
that  Tonish  was  too  much  disabled  by  aches  and 
pains  for  such  an  undertaking  ;  but  he  was  wild 
with  eagerness  for  the  mysterious  enterprise,  and, 
when  permission  was  given  him,  seemed  to  for 
get  all  his  ailments  in  an  instant. 

In  a  short  time  the  trio  were  equipped  and  on 
horseback  ;  with  rifles  on  their  shoulders  and 
handkerchiefs  twisted  round  their  heads,  evi- 
dently bound  for  a  grand  scamper.  As  they 
passed  by  the  different  lodges  of  the  camp,  the 
vainglorious  little  Frenchman  could  not  help 
boasting  to  the  right  and  left  of  the  great  things 
he  was  about  to  achieve  ;  though  the  taciturn 
Beatte,  who  rode  in  advance,  would  every  now 
and  then  check  his  horse,  and  look  back  at  him 
with  an  air  of  stern  rebuke.  It  was  hard,  how- 
ever, to  make  the  loquacious  Tonish  play  "  In- 
dian." 

Several  of  the  hunters,  likewise,  sallied  forth, 
and  the  prime  old  woodman,  Ryan,  came  back 
early  in  the  afternoon,  with  ample  spoil,  having 
killed  a  buck  and  two  fat  does.  I  drew  near  to  a 
group  of  rangers  that  had  gathered  round  him  as 
he  stood  by  the  spoil,  and  found  they  were  dis- 
cussing the  merits  of  a  stratagem  sometimes  used 
in  deer  hunting.  This  consists  in  imitating,  with 
a  small  instrument  called  a  bleat,  the  cry  of  the 
fawn,  so  as  to  lure  the  doe  within  reach  of  the 
rifle.  There  are  bleats  of  various  kinds,  suited 
to  calm  or  windy  weather,  and  to  the  age  of  the 
fawn.  The  poor  animal,  deluded  by  them,  in  its 
anxiety  about  its  young,  will  sometimes  advance 
close  up  to  the  hunter.  "  I  once  bleated  a  doe," 
said  a  young  hunter,  "  until  it  came  within  twenty 
yards  of  me,  and  presented  a  sure  mark.  I  lev- 
elled my  rifle  three  times,  but  had  not  the  heart 
to  shoot,  for  the  poor  doe  looked  so  wistfully, 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


473 


that  it  in  a  manner  made  my  heart  yearn.  I 
thought  of  my  own  mother,  and  how  anxious  she 
used  to  be  about  me  when  I  was  a  child  ;  so  to 
put  an  end  to  the  matter,  I  gave  a  halloo,  and 
started  the  doe  out  of  rifle-shot  in  a  moment." 

"And  you  did  right,"  cried  honest  old  Ryan. 
"  For  my  part,  I  never  could  bring  myself  to 
bleating  deer.  I've  been  with  hunters  who  had 
bleats,  and  have  made  them  throw  them  away. 
It  is  a  rascally  trick  to  take  advantage  of  a  moth- 
er's love  for  her  young." 

Toward  evening  our  three  worthies  returned 
from  their  mysterious  foray.  The  tongue  of 
Tonish  gave  notice  of  their  approach  long  before 
they  came  in  sight ;  for  he  was  vociferating  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs,  and  rousing  the  attention  of  the 
whole  camp.  The  lagging  gait  and  reeking  flanks 
of  their  horses,  gave  evidence  of  hard  riding  ; 
and,  on  nearer  approach,  we  found  them  hung 
round  with  meat  like  a  butcher's  shambles.  In 
fact,  they  had  been  scouring  an  immense  prairie 
that  extended  beyond  the  forest,  and  which  was 
covered  with  herds  of  buffalo.  Of  this  prairie, 
and  the  animals  upon  it,  Beatte  had  received  in- 
telligence a  few  days  before,  in  his  conversation 
with  the  Osages,  but  had  kept  the  information  a 
secret  from  the  rangers,  that  he  and  his  comrades 
might  have  the  first  dash  at  the  game.  They  had 
contented  themselves  with  killing  four ;  though, 
if  Tonish  might  be  believed,  they  might  have 
slain  them  by  scores. 

These  tidings,  and  the  buffalo  meat  brought 
home  in  evidence,  spread  exultation  through  the 
camp,  and  every  one  looked  forward  with  joy  to 
a  buffalo  hunt  on  the  prairies.  Tonish  was  again 
the  oracle  of  the  camp,  and  held  forth  by  the 
hour  to  a  knot  of  listeners,  crouched  round  the 
fire,  with  their  shoulders  up  to  their  ears.  He 
was  now  more  boastful  than  ever  of  his  skill  as 
a  marksman.  All  his  want  of  success  in  the  early 
part  of  our  march  he  attributed  to  being  "  out  of 
luck,"  if  not  "  spell-bound  ;  "  and  finding  him- 
self listened  to  with  apparent  credulity,  gave  an 
instance  of  the  kind,  which  he  declared  had  hap- 
pened to  himself,  but  which  was  evidently  a  tale 
picked  up  among  his  relations,  the  Osages. 

According  to  this  account,  when  about  fourteen 
years  of  age,  as  he  was  one  day  hunting,  he  saw 
a  white  deer  come  out  from  a  ravine.  Crawling 
near  to  get  a  shot,  he  beheld  another  and  another 
come  forth,  until  there  were  seven,  all  as  white 
as  snow.  Having  crept  sufficiently  near,  he  sin- 
gled one  out  and  fired,  but  without  effect ;  the 
deer  remained  unfrightened.  He  loaded  and 
fired  again  and  missed.  Thus  he  continued  firing 
and  missing  until  all  his  ammunition  was  ex- 
pended, and  the  deer  remained  without  a  wound. 
He  returned  home  despairing  of  his  skill  as  a 
marksman,  but  was  consoled  by  an  old  Osage 
hunter.  These  white  deer,  said  he,  have  a 
charmed  life,  and  can  only  be  killed  by  bullets 
of  a  particular  kind. 

The  old  Indian  cast  several  balls  for  Tonish, 
but  would  not  suffer  him  to  be  present  on  the  oc- 
casion, nor  inform  him  of  the  ingredients  and 
mystic  ceremonials. 

Provided  with  these  balls,  Tonish  again  set  out 
in  quest  of  the  white  deer,  and  succeeded  in  find- 
ing them.  He  tried  at  first  with  ordinary  balls, 
but  missed  as  before.  A  magic  ball,  however, 
immediately  brought  a  fine  buck  to  the  ground. 
Whereupon  the  rest  of  the  herd  immediately  dis- 
appeared and  were  never  seen  again. 

October  29th. — The  morning  opened  gloomy 
and  lowering ;  but  toward  eight  o'clock  the  sun 


struggled  forth  and  lighted  up  the  forest,  and  the 
notes  of  the  bugle  gave  signal  to  prepare  for 
marching.  Now  began  a  scene  of  bustle,  and 
clamor,  and  gayety.  Some  were  scampering  and 
brawling  after  their  horses,  some  were  riding  in 
bare-backed,  and  driving  in  the  horses  of  their 
comrades.  Some  were  stripping  the  poles  of  the 
wet  blankets  that  had  served  for  shelters  ;  others 
packing  up  with  all  possible  dispatch,  and  load- 
ing the  baggage  horses  as  they  arrived,  while 
others  were  cracking  off  their  damp  rifles  and 
charging  them  afresh,  to  be  ready  for  the  sport. 

About  ten  o'clock,  we  began  our  march.  I  loi- 
tered in  the  rear  of  the  troop  as  it  forded  the 
turbid  brook,  and  defiled  through  the  labyrinths 
of  the  forest.  I  always  felt  disposed  to  linger 
until  the  last  straggler  disappeared  among  the 
trees  and  the  distant  note  of  the  bugle  died  upon 
the  ear,  that  I  might  behold  the  wilderness  relap- 
sing into  silence  and  solitude.  In  the  present 
instance,  the  deserted  scene  of  our  late  bustling 
encampment  had  a  forlorn  and  desolate  appear- 
ance. The  surrounding  forest  had  been  in  many 
places  trampled  into  a  quagmire.  Trees  felled 
and  partly  hewn  in  pieces,  and  scattered  in  huge 
fragments  ;  tent-poles  stripped  of  their  covering  ; 
smouldering  fires,  with  great  morsels  of  roasted 
venison  and  buffalo  meat,  standing  in  wooden 
spits  before  them,  hacked  and  slashed  by  the 
knives  of  hungry  hunters  ;  while  around  were 
strewed  the  hides,  the  horns,  the  antlers,  and 
bones  of  buffaloes  and  deer,  with  uncooked  joints, 
and  unplucked  turkeys,  left  behind  with  that 
reckless  improvidence  and  wastefulness  which 
young  hunters  are  apt  to  indulge  when  in  a  neigh- 
borhood where  game  abounds.  In  the  meantime 
a  score  or  two  of  turkey-buzzards,  or  vultures, 
were  already  on  the  wing,  wheeling  their  magni- 
ficent flight  high  in  the  air,  and  preparing  for  a 
descent  upon  the  camp  as  soon  as  it  should  be 
abandoned. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Grand  Prairie.— A  Buffalo  Hunt. 

AFTER  proceeding  about  two  hours  in  a  southerly 
direction,  we  emerged  toward  mid-day  from  the 
dreary  belt  of  the  Cross  Timber,  and  to  our  in- 
finite delight  beheld  "  the  great  Prairie  "  stretch- 
ing to  the  right  and  left  before  us.  We  could 
distinctly  trace  the  meandering  course  of  the 
main  Canadian,  and  various  smaller  streams,  by 
the  strips  of  green  forest  that  bordered  them. 
The  landscape  was  vast  and  beautiful.  There  is 
always  an  expansion  of  feeling  in  looking  upon 
these  boundless  and  fertile  wastes  ;  but  I  was 
doubly  conscious  of  it  after  emerging  from  our 
"  close  dungeon  of  innumerous  boughs." 

From  a  rising  ground  Beatte  pointed  out  the 
place  where  he  and  his  comrades  had  killed  the 
buffaloes  ;  and  we  beheld  several  black  objects 
moving  in  the  distance,  which  he  said  were  part 
of  the  herd.  The  Captain  determined  to  shape 
his  course  to  a  woody  bottom  about  a  mile  dis- 
tant, and  to  encamp  there  for  a  day  or  two,  by 
way  of  having  a  regular  buffalo  hunt,  and  getting 
a  supply  of  provisions.  As  the  troop  defiled 
along  the  slope  of  the  hill  toward  the  camping 
ground,  Beatte  proposed  to  my  messmates  and 
myself,  that  we  should  put  ourselves  under  his 
guidance,  promising  to  take  us  where  we  should 
have  plenty  of  sport.  Leaving  the  line  of  march, 


474 


A   TOUR   ON   THE  PRAIRIES. 


therefore,  we  diverged  toward  the  prairie  ;  tra- 
versing a  small  valley,  and  ascending  a  gentle 
swell  of  land.  As  we  reached  the  summit,  we 
beheld  a  gang  of  wild  horses  about  a  mile  off. 
Beatte  was  immediately  on  the  alert,  and  no 
longer  thought  of  buffalo  hunting.  He  was 
mounted  on  his  powerful  half-wild  horse,  with  a 
lariat  coiled  at  the  saddle-bow,  and  set  off  in 
pursuit ;  while  we  remained  on  a  rising  ground 
watching  his  manoeuvres  with  great  solicitude. 
Taking  advantage  of  a  strip  of  woodland,  he  stole 
quietly  along,  so  as  to  get  close  to  them  before 
he  was  perceived.  The  moment  they  caught 
sight  of  him  a  grand  scamper  took  place.  We 
watched  him  skirting  along  the  horizon  like  a 
privateer  in  full  chase  of  a  merchantman ;  at 
length  he  passed  over  the  brow  of  a  ridge,  and 
down  into  a  shallow  valley  ;  in  a  few  moments  he 
was  on  the  opposite  hill,  and  close  upon  one  of 
the  horses.  He  was  soon  head  and  head,  and 
appeared  to  be  trying  to  noose  his  prey  ;  but 
they  both  disappeared  again  below  the  hill,  and 
we  saw  no  more  of  them.  It  turned  out  after- 
ward that  he  had  noosed  a  powerful  horse,  but 
could  not  hold  him,  and  had  lost  his  lariat  in  the 
attempt. 

While  we  were  waiting  for  his  return,  we  per- 
ceived two  buffalo  bulls  descending  a  slope,  to- 
ward a  stream,  which  wound  through  a  ravine 
fringed  with  trees.  The  young  Count  and  myself 
endeavored  to  get  near  them  under  covert  of  the 
trees.  They  discovered  us  while  we  were  yet 
three  or  four  hundred  yards  off,  and  turning  about, 
retreated  up  the  rising  ground.  We  urged  our 
horses  across  the  ravine,  and  gave  chase.  The 
immense  weight  of  head  and  shoulders  causes 
the  buffalo  to  labor  heavily  up  hill ;  but  it  accel- 
erates his  descent.  We  had  the  advantage, 
therefore,  and  gained  rapidly  upon  the  fugitives, 
though  it  was  difficult  to  get  our  horses  to  ap- 
proach them,  their  very  scent  inspiring  them 
with  terror.  The  Count,  who  had  a  double-bar- 
relled gun,  loaded  with  ball,  fired,  but  it  missed. 
The  bulls  now  altered  their  course,  and  galloped 
down  hill  with  headlong  rapidity.  As  they  ran 
in  different  directions,  we  each  singled  out  one 
and  separated.  I  was  provided  with  a  brace  of 
veteran  brass-barrelled  pistols,  which  I  had  bor- 
rowed at  Fort  Gibson,  and  which  had  evidently 
seen  some  service.  Pistols  are  very  effective  in 
buffalo  hunting,  as  the  hunter  can  ride  up  close 
to  the  animal,  and  fire  at  it  while  at  full  speed ; 
whereas  the  long  heavy  rifles  used  on  the  fron- 
tier, cannot  be  easily  managed,  nor  discharged 
with  accurate  aim  from  horseback.  My  object, 
therefore,  was  to  get  within  pistol  shot  of  the  buf- 
falo. This  was  no  very  easy  matter.  I  was  well 
mounted  on  a  horse  of  excellent  speed  and  bot- 
tom, that  seemed  eager  for  the  chase,  and  soon 
overtook  the  game  ;  but  the  moment  he  came 
nearly  parallel,  he  would  keep  sheering  off,  with 
ears  forked  and  pricked  forward,  and  every 
symptom  of  aversion  and  alarm.  It  was  no 
wonder.  Of  all  animals,  a  buffalo,  when  close 
pressed  by  the  hunter,  has  an  aspect  the  most 
diabolical.  His  two  short  black  horns,  curve  out 
of  a  huge  frontier  of  shaggy  hair  ;  his  eyes  glow 
like  coals  ;  his  mouth  is  open,  his  tongue  parched 
and  drawn  up  into  a  half  crescent  ;  his  tail  is 
erect,  and  tufted  and  whisking  about  in  the  air, 
he  is  a  perfect  picture  of  mingled  rage  and  terror. 

It  was  with  difficulty  I  urged  my  horse  suffi- 
ciently near,  when,  taking  aim,  to  my  chagrin, 
both  pistols  missed  fire.  Unfortunately  the  locks 
of  these  veteran  weapons  were  so  much  worn, 


that  in  the  gallop,  the  priming  had  been  shaken 
out  of  the  pans.  At  the  snapping  of  the  last  pis- 
tol I  was  close  upon  the  buffalo,  when,  in  his  de- 
spair, he  turned  round  with  a  sudden  snort  and 
rushed  upon  me.  My  horse  wheeled  about  as  if 
on  a  pivot,  made  a  convulsive  spring,  and,  as  I 
had  been  leaning  on  one  side  with  pistol  ex- 
tended, I  came  near  being  thrown  at  the  feet  of 
the  buffalo. 

Three  or  four  bounds  of  the  horse  carried  us 
out  of  the  reach  of  the  enemy ;  who,  having 
merely  turned  in  desperate  self-defence,  quickly- 
resumed  his  flight.  As  soon  as  I  could  gather  in 
my  panic-stricken  horse,  and  prime  the  pistols 
afresh,  I  again  spurred  in  pursuit  of  the  buffalo, 
who  had  slackened  his  speed  to  take  breath.  On 
my  approach  he  again  set  off  full  tilt,  heaving 
himself  forward  with  a  heavy  rolling  gallop,  dash- 
ing with  headlong  precipitation  through  brakes 
and  ravines,  while  several  deer  and  wolves, 
startled  from  their  coverts  by  his  thundering 
career,  ran  helter-skelter  to  right  and  left  across 
the  waste. 

A  gallop  across  the  prairies  in  pursuit  of  game 
is  by  no  means  so  smooth  a  career  as  those  may 
imagine,  who  have  only  the  idea  of  an  open  level 
plain.  It  is  true,  the  prairies  of  the  hunting 
ground  are  not  so  much  entangled  with  flowering 
plants  and  long  herbage  as  the  lower  prairies, 
and  are  principally  covered  with  short  buffalo 
grass  ;  but  they  are  diversified  by  hill  and  dale, 
and  where  most  level,  are  apt  to  be  cut  up  by 
deep  rifts  and  ravines,  made  by  torrents  after 
rains  ;  and  which,  yawning  from  an  even  surface, 
are  almost  like  pitfalls  in  the  way  of  the  hunter, 
checking  him  suddenly,  when  in  full  career,  or 
subjecting  him  to  the  risk  of  limb  and  life.  The 
plains,  too,  are  beset  by  burrowing  holes  of  small 
animals,  in  which  the  horse  is  apt  to  sink  to  the 
fetlock,  and  throw  both  himself  and  his  rider. 
The  late  rain  had  covered  some  parts  of  the  prai- 
rie, where  the  ground  was  hard,  with  a  thin  sheet 
of  water,  through  which  the  horse  had  to  splash 
his  way.  In  other  parts  there  were  innumerable 
shallow  hollows,  eight  or  ten  feet  in  diameter, 
made  by  the  buffaloes,  who  wallow  in  sand  and 
mud  like  swine.  These  being  filled  with  water, 
shone  like  mirrors,  so  that  the  horse  was  continu- 
ally leaping  over  them  or  springing  on  one  side. 
We  had  reached,  too,  a  rough  part  of  the  prairie, 
very  much  broken  and  cut  up  ;  the  buffalo,  who 
was  running  for  life,  took  no  heed  to  his  course, 
plunging  down  break-neck  ravines,  where  it  was 
necessary  to  skirt  the  borders  in  search  of  a  safer 
descent.  At  length  we  came  to  where  a  winter 
stream  had  torn  a  deep  chasm  across  the  whole 
prairie,  leaving  open  jagged  rocks,  and  forming 
a  long  glen  bordered  by  steep  crumbling  cliffs  of 
mingled  stone  and  clay.  Down  one  of  these  the 
buffalo  flung  himself,  half  tumbling,  half  leaping, 
and  then  scuttled  along  the  bottom  ;  while  I,  see- 
ing all  further  pursuit  useless,  pulled  up,  and 
gazed  quietly  after  him  from  the  border  of  the 
cliff,  until  he  disappeared  amidst  the  windings  of 
the  ravine. 

Nothing  now  remained  but  to  turn  my  steed 
and  rejoin  my  companions.  Here  at  first  was 
some  little  difficulty.  The  ardor  of  the  chase  had 
betrayed  me  into  a  long,  heedless  gallop.  I  now 
found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  lonely  waste,  in 
which  the  prospect  was  bounded  by  undulating 
swells  of  land,  naked  and  uniform,  where,  from 
the  deficiency  of  landmarks  and  distinct  features, 
an  inexperienced  man  may  become  bewildered, 
and  lose  his  way  as  readily  as  in  the  wastes  of 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


475 


the  ocean.  The  day,  too,  was  overcast,  so  that  I 
could  not  guide  myself  by  the  sun  ;  my  only 
mode  was  to  retrace  the  track  my  horse  had 
made  in  coming,  though  this  I  would  often  lose 
sight  of,  where  the  ground  was  covered  with 
parched  herbage. 

To  one  unaccustomed  to  it,  there  is  something 
inexpressibly  lonely  in  the  solitude  of  a  prairie. 
The  loneliness  of  a  forest  seems  nothing  to  it. 
There  the  view  is  shut  in  by  trees,  and  the  im- 
agination is  left  free  to  picture  some  livelier  scene 
beyond.  But  here  we  have  an  immense  extent 
of  landscape  without  a  sign  of  human  existence. 
We  have  the  consciousness  of  being  far,  far  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  human  habitation;  we  feel  as 
if  moving  in  the  midst  of  a  desert  world.  As  my 
horse  lagged  slowly  back  over  the  scenes  of  our 
late  scamper,  and  the  delirium  of  the  chase  had 
passed  away,  I  was  peculiarly  sensible  to  these 
circumstances.  The  silence  of  the  waste  was  now 
and  then  broken  by  the  cry  of  a  distant  flock  of 
pelicans,  stalking  like  spectres  about  a  shallow 
pool ;  sometimes  by  the  sinister  croaking  of  a 
raven  in  the  air,  while  occasionally  a  scoundrel 
wolf  would  scour  off  from  before  me  ;  and,  hav- 
ing attained  a  safe  distance,  would  sit  down  and 
howl  and  whine  with  tones  that  gave  a  dreariness 
to  the  surrounding  solitude. 

After  pursuing  my  way  for  some  time,  I  de- 
scried a  horseman  on  the  edge  of  a  distant  hill, 
and  soon  recognized  him  to  be  the  Count.  He 
had  been  equally  unsuccessful  with  myself;  we 
were  shortly  after  rejoined  by  our  worthy  com- 
rade, the  Virtuoso,  who,  with  spectacles  on  nose, 
had  made  two  or  three  ineffectual  shots  from 
horseback. 

We  determined  not  to  seek  the  camp  until  we 
had  made  one  more  effort.  Casting  our  eyes 
about  the  surrounding  waste,  we  descried  a  herd 
of  buffalo  about  two  miles  distant,  scattered 
apart,  and  quietly  grazing  near  a  small  strip  of 
trees  and  bushes.  It  required  but  little  stretch 
of  fancy  to  picture  them  so  many  cattle  grazing 
on  the  edge  of  a  common,  and  that  the  grove 
might  shelter  some  lowly  farmhouse. 

We  now  formed  our  plan  to  circumvent  the 
herd,  and  by  getting  on  the  other  side  of  them, 
to  hunt  them  in  the  direction  where  we  knew  our 
camp  to  be  situated,  otherwise,  the  pursuit  might 
take  us  to  such  a  distance  as  to  render  it  im- 
possible to  find  our  way  back  before  nightfall. 
Taking  a  wide  circuit  therefore,  we  moved  slowly 
and  cautiously,  pausing  occasionally,  when  we 
saw  any  of  the  herd  desist  from  grazing.  The 
wind  fortunately  set  from  them,  otherwise  they 
might  have  scented  us  and  have  taken  the  alarm. 
In  this  way  we  succeeded  in  getting  round  the 
herd  without  disturbing  it.  It  consisted  of  about 
forty  head,  bulls,  cows,  and  calves.  Separating 
to  some  distance  from  each  other,  we  now  ap- 
proached slowly  in  a  parallel  line,  hoping  by  de- 
grees to  steal  near  without  exciting  attention. 
They  began,  however,  to  move  off  quietly,  stop- 
ping at  every  step  or  two  to  graze,  when  suddenly 
a  bull  that,  unobserved  by  us,  had  been  taking 
his  siesta  under  a  clump  of  trees  to  our  left, 
roused  himself  from  his  lair,  and  hastened  to 
join  his  companions.  We  were  still  at  a  consid- 
erable distance,  but  the  game  had  taken  the 
alarm.  We  quickened  our  pace,  they  broke  into 
a  gallop,  and  now  commenced  a  full  chase. 

As  the  ground  was  level,  they  shouldered 
along  with  great  speed,  following  each  other  in  a 
line  ;  two  or  three  bulls  bringing  up  the  rear,  the 
last  of  whom,  from  his  enormous  size  and  vener- 


able frontlet,  and  beard  of  sunburnt  hair,  looked 
like  the  patriarch  of  the  herd ;  and  as  if  he 
might  long  have  reigned  the  monarch  of  the 
prairie. 

There  is  a  mixture  of  the  awful  and  the  comic 
in  the  look  of  these  huge  animals,  as  they  bear 
their  great  bulk  forward,  with  an  up  and  down 
motion  of  the  unwieldy  head  and  shoulders  ; 
their  tail  cocked  up  like  the  queue  of  Pantaloon  in 
a  pantomime,  the  end  whisking  about  in  a  fierce 
yet  whimsical  style,  and  their  eyes  glaring  ven- 
omously with  an  expression  of  fright  and  fury. 

For  some  time  I  kept  parallel  with  the  line, 
without  being  able  to  force  my  horse  within  pis- 
tol shot,  so  much  had  he  been  alarmed  by  the 
assault  of  the  buffalo  in  the  preceding  chase. 
At  length  I  succeeded,  but  was  again  balked  by 
my  pistols  missing  fire.  My  companions,  whose 
horses  were  less  fleet,  and  more  way-worn,  could 
not  overtake  the  herd  ;  at  length  Mr.  L.,  who 
was  in  the  rear  of  the  line,  and  losing  ground, 
levelled  his  double-barrelled  gun,  and  fired  a  long 
raking  shot.  It  struck  a  buffalo  just  above  the 
loins,  broke  its  back-bone,  and  brought  it  to  the 
ground.  He  stopped  and  alighted  to  dispatch 
his  prey,  when  borrowing  his  gun,  which  had  yet 
a  charge  remaining  in  it,  I  put  my  horse  to  his 
speed,  again  overtook  the  herd  which  was  thun- 
dering along,  pursued  by  the  Count.  With  my 
present  weapon  there  was  no  need  of  urging  my 
horse  to  such  close  quarters  ;  galloping  along 
parallel,  therefore,  I  singled  out  a  buffalo,  and 
by  a  fortunate  shot  brought  it  down  on  the  spot. 
The  ball  had  struck  a  vital  part ;  it  could  not 
move  from  the  place  where  it  fell,  but  lay  there 
struggling  in  mortal  agony,  while  the  rest  of  the 
herd  kept  on  their  headlong  career  across  the 
prairie. 

Dismounting,  I  now  fettered  my  horse  to  pre- 
vent his  straying,  and  advanced  to  contemplate 
my  victim.  I  am  nothing  of  a  sportsman  ;  I  had 
been  prompted  to  this  unwonted  exploit  by  the 
magnitude  of  the  game,  and  the  excitement  of 
an  adventurous  chase.  Now  that  the  excitement 
was  over,  I  could  not  but  look  with  commisera- 
tion upon  the  poor  animal  that  lay  struggling  and 
bleeding  at  my  feet.  His  very  size  and  impor- 
tance, which  had  before  inspired  me  with  eager- 
ness, now  increased  my  compunction.  It  seemed 
as  if  I  had  inflicted  pain  in  proportion  to  the  bulk 
of  my  victim,  and  as  if  it  were  a  hundred-fold 
greater  waste  of  life  than  there  would  have  been 
in  the  destruction  of  an  animal  of  inferior  size. 

To  add  to  these  after-qualms  of  conscience, 
the  poor  animal  lingered  in  his  agony.  He  had 
evidently  received  a  mortal  wound,  but  death 
might  be  long  in  coming.  It  would  not  do  to 
leave  him  here  to  be  torn  piecemeal,  while  yet 
alive,  by  the  wolves  that  had  already  snuffed  his 
blood,  and  were  skulking  and  howling  at  a  dis- 
tance, and  waiting  for  my  departure ;  and  by 
the  ravens  that  were  flapping  about,  croaking  dis- 
mally in  the  air.  It  became  now  an  act  of  mercy 
to, give  him  his  quietus,  and  put  him  out  of  his 
misery.  I  primed  one  of  the  pistols,  therefore, 
and  advanced  close  up  to  the  buffalo.  To  in- 
flict a  wound  thus  in  cold  blood,  I  found  a  totally 
different  thing  from  firing  in  the  heat  of  the 
chase.  Taking  aim,  however,  just  behind  the 
fore-shoulder,  my  pistol  for  once  proved  true  ;  the 
ball  must  have  passed  through  the  heart,  for  the 
animal  gave  one  convulsive  throe  and  expired. 

While  I  stood  meditating  and  moralizing  over 
the  wreck  I  had  so  wantonly  produced,  with  my 
horse  grazing  near  me,  I  was  rejoined  by  my  fcl- 


476 


A  TOUR   ON   THE    PRAIRIES. 


low-sportsman,  the  Virtuoso  ;  who,  being  a  man 
of  universal  adroitness,  and  withal,  more  ex- 
perienced and  hardened  in  the  gentle  art  of 
4<  venerie,"  soon  managed  to  carve  out  the  tongue 
of  the  buffalo,  and  delivered  it  to  me  to  bear 
back  to  the  camp  as  a  trophy. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  Comrade  Lost. — A  Search  for  the  Camp. —  The  Com- 
missioner, the  Wild  Horse,  and  the  Bujfalo. — A  Wolf 
Serenade. 

OUR  solicitude  was  now  awakened  for  the  young 
Count.  With  his  usual  eagerness  and  impetuos- 
ity he  had  persisted  in  urging  his  jaded  horse  in 
pursuit  of  the  herd,  unwilling  to  return  without 
having  likewise  killed  a  buffalo.  In  this  way  he 
had  kept  on  following  them,  hither  and  thither, 
and  occasionally  firing  an  ineffectual  shot,  until 
by  degrees  horseman  and  herd  became  indis- 
tinct in  the  distance,  and  at  length  swelling 
ground  and  strips  of  trees  and  thickets  hid  them 
entirely  from  sight. 

By  the  time  my  friend,  the  amateur,  joined 
me,  the  young  Count  had  been  long  lost  to  view. 
We  held  a  consultation  on  the  matter.  Evening 
was  drawing  on.  Were  we  to  pursue  him,  it 
would  be  dark  before  we  should  overtake  him, 
granting  we  did  not  entirely  lose  trace  of  him  in 
the  gloom.  We  should  then  be  too  much  bewil- 
dered to  find  our  way  back  to  the  encampment  ; 
even  now,  our  return  would  be  difficult.  We  de- 
termined, therefore,  to  hasten  to  the  camp  as 
speedily  as  possible,  and  send  out  our  half-breeds, 
and  some  of  the  veteran  hunters,  skilled  in  cruis- 
ing about  the  prairies,  to  search  for  our  compan- 
ion. 

We  accordingly  set  forward  in  what  we  sup- 
posed to  be  the  direction  of  the  camp.  Our 
weary  horses  could  hardly  be  urged  beyond  a 
•walk.  The  twilight  thickened  upon  us  ;  the  land- 
scape grew  gradually  indistinct ;  we  tried  in  vain 
to  recognize  various  landmarks  which  we  had 
noted  in  the  morning.  The  features  of  the  prai- 
ries are  so  similar  as  to  baffle  the  eye  of  any  but 
an  Indian,  or  a  practised  woodman.  At  length 
night  closed  in.  We  hoped  to  sec  the  distant 
glare  of  camp-fires  ;  we  listened  to  catch  the 
sound  of  the  bells  about  the  necks  of  the  grazing 
horses.  Once  or  twice  we  thought  we  distin- 
guished them  ;  we  were  mistaken.  Nothing  was 
to  be  heard  but  a  monotonous  concert  of  insects, 
with  now  and  then  the  dismal  howl  of  wolves 
mingling  with  the  night  breeze.  WTe  began  to 
think  of  halting  for  the  night,  and  bivouacking 
under  the  lee  of  some  thicket.  We  had  imple- 
ments to  strike  a  light;  there  was  plenty  of  fire- 
wood at  hand,  and  the  tongues  of  our  buffaloes 
would  furnish  us  with  a  repast. 

Just  as  we  were  preparing  to  dismount,  we 
heard  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  shortly  after,  the 
notes  of  the  bugle,  calling  up  the  night  guard. 
Pushing  forward  in  that  direction,  the  camp  fires 
soon  broke  on  our  sight,  gleaming  at  a  distance 
from  among  the  thick  groves  of  an  alluvial  bot- 
tom. 

As  we  entered  the  camp,  we  found  it  a  scene 
of  rude  hunters'  revelry  and  wassail.  There  had 
laeen  a  grand  day's  sport,  in  which  all  had  taken 
a  part.  Eight  buffaloes  had  been  killed  ;  roaring 
fires  were  blazing  on  every  side  ;  all  hands  were 
feasting  upon  roasted  joints,  _b roiled  marrow- 


bones, and  the  juicy  hump,  far-famed  among  the 
epicures  of  the  prairies.  Right  glad  were  we  to 
dismount  and  partake  of  the  sturdy  cheer,  for 
we  had  been  on  our  weary  horses  since  morning 
without  tasting  food. 

As  to  our  worthy  friend,  the  Commissioner, 
with  whom  we  had  parted  company  at  the  outset 
of  this  eventful  day,  we  found  him  lying  in  a  cor- 
ner of  the  tent,  much  the  worse  for  wear,  in  the 
course  of  a  successful  hunting  match. 

It  seems  that  our  man,  Beatte,  in  his  zeal  to 
give  the  Commissioner  an  opportunity  of  distin- 
guishing himself,  and  gratifying  his  hunting  pro- 
pensities, had  mounted  him  upon  his  half-wild 
horse,  and  started  him  in  pursuit  of  a  huge  buf- 
falo bull,  that  had  already  been  frightened  by  the 
hunters.  The  horse,  which  was  fearless  as  his 
owner,  and,  like  him,  had  a  considerable  spice 
of  devil  in  his  composition,  and  who,  besides, 
had  been  made  familiar  with  the  game,  no  sooner 
came  in  sight  and  scent  of  the  buffalo,  than  he 
set  off  full  speed,  bearing  the  involuntary  hunter 
hither  and  thither,  and  whither  he  would  not — • 
up  hill  and  dowrr  hill — leaping  pools  and  brooks 
— dashing  through  glens  and  gullies,  until  he 
came  up  with  the  game.  Instead  of  sheering  oft", 
he  crowded  upon  the  buffalo.  The  Commis- 
sioner, almost  in  self-defence,  discharged  both 
barrels  of  a  double-barrelled  gun  into  the  enemy. 
The  broadside  took  effect,  but  was  not  mortal. 
The  buffalo  turned  furiously  upon  his  pursuer; 
the  horse,  as  he  had  been  taught  by  his  owner, 
wheeled  off".  The  buffalo  plunged  after  him.  The 
worthy  Commissioner,  in  great  extremity,  drew 
his  sole  pistol  from  his  holster,  fired  it  off  as  a 
stern-chaser,  shot  the  buffalo  full  in  the  breast, 
and  brought  him  lumbering  forward  to  the  earth. 

The  Commissioner  returned  to  camp,  lauded 
on  all  sides  for  his  signal  exploit ;  but  grievously 
battered  and  way-worn.  He  had  been  a  hard 
rider  perforce,  and  a  victor  in  spite  of  himself. 
He  turned  a  deaf  car  to  all  compliments  and  con- 
gratulations ;  had  but  little  stomach  for  the  hun- 
ter's fare  placed  before  him,  and  soon  retreated 
to  stretch  his  limbs  in  the  tent,  declaring  that 
nothing  should  tempt  him  again  to  mount  that 
half  devil  Indian  horse,  and  that  he  had  had 
enough  of  buffalo  hunting  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 

It  was  too  dark  now  to  send  any  one  in  search 
of  the  young  Count.  Guns,  however,  were  fired, 
and  the  bugle  sounded  from  time  to  time,  to 
guide  him  to  the  camp,  if  by  chance  he  shculJ. 
straggle  within  hearing  ;  but  the  night  advanced 
without  his  making  his  appearance.  There  was 
not  a  star  visible  to  guide  him,  and  we  concluded 
that  wherever  he  was,  he  would  give  up  wander- 
ing in  the  dark,  and  bivouac  until  daybreak. 

It  was  a  raw,  overcast  night.  The  carcasses 
of  the  buffaloes  killed  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
camp  had  drawn  about  it  an  unusual  number  of 
wolves,  who  kept  up  the  most  forlorn  concert  of 
whining  yells,  prolonged  into  dismal  cadences 
and  inflexions,  literally  converting  the  surround- 
ing waste  into  a  howling  wilderness.  Nothing  is 
more  melancholy  than  the  midnight  howl  of  a 
wolf  on  a  prairie.  What  rendered  the  gloom  and 
wildness  of  the  night  and  the  savage  concert  of 
the  neighboring  waste  the  more  dreary  to  us,  was 
the  idea  of  the  lonely  and  exposed  situation  of 
our  young  and  inexperienced  comrade.  We 
trusted,  however,  that  on  the  return  of  daylight, 
he  would  find  his  way  back  to  the  camp,  and 
then  all  the  events  of  the  night  would  be  remem- 
bered only  as  so  many  savory  gratifications  of  his 
passion  for  adventure. 


A   TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


477 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

A  Hunt  for  a  Lost  Comrade. 

THE  morning  dawned,  and  an  hour  or  two  passed 
without  any  tidings  of  the  Count.  We  began  to 
feel  uneasiness  lest,  having  no  compass  to  aid 
him,  he  might  perplex  himself  and  wander  in 
some  opposite  direction.  Stragglers  are  thus 
often  lost  for  days  ;  what  made  us  the  more  anx- 
ious about  him  was,  that  he  had  no  provisions 
with  him,  was  totally  unversed  in  "  wood  craft," 
and  liable  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  lurking 
or  straggling  party  of  savages. 

As  soon  as  our  people,  therefore,  had  made 
their  breakfast,  we  beat  up  for  volunteers  for  a 
cruise  in  search  of  the  Count.  A  dozen  of  the 
rangers,  mounted  on  some  of  the  best  and  freshest 
horses,  and  armed  with  rifles,  were  soon  ready  to 
start ;  our  half-breeds  Beatte  and  Antoine  also, 
with  our  little  mongrel  Frenchman,  were  zealous 
in  the  cause;  so  Mr.  L.  and  myself  taking  the  lead, 
to  show  the  way  to  the  scene  of  our  little  hunt 
where  we  had  parted  company  with  the  Count, 
we  all  set  out  across  the  prairie.  A  ride  of  a 
couple  of  miles  brought  us  to  the  carcasses  of  the 
two  buffaloes  we  had  killed.  A  legion  of  rave- 
nous wolves  were  already  gorging  upon  them.  At 
our  approach  they  reluctantly  drew  off,  skulking 
with  a  caitiff  look  to  the  distance  of  a  few  hun- 
dred yards,  and  there  awaiting  our  departure, 
that  they  might  return  to  their  banquet. 

I  conducted  Beatte  and  Antoine  to  the  spot 
whence  the  young  Count  had  continued  the  chase 
alone.  It  was  like  putting  hounds  upon  the 
scent.  They  immediately  distinguished  the  track 
of  his  horse  amidst  the  trampings  of  the  buffaloes, 
and  set  off  at  a  round  pace,  following  with  the  eye 
in  nearly  a  straight  course,  for  upward  of  a  mile, 
when  they  came  to  where  the  herd  had  divided, 
and  run  hither  and  thither  about  a  meadow. 
Here  the  track  of  the  horse's  hoofs  wandered  and 
doubled  and  often  crossed  each  other  ;  our  half- 
breeds  were  like  hounds  at  fault.  While  we 
were  at  a  halt,  waiting  until  they  should  unravel 
the  maze,  Beatte  suddenly  gave  a  short  Indian 
whoop,  or  rather  yelp,  and  pointed  to  a  distant 
hill.  On  regarding  it  attentively,  we  perceived  a 
horseman  on  the  summit.  "It  is  the  Count!" 
cried  Beatte,  and  set  off  at  full  gallop,  followed 
by  the  whole  company.  In  a  few  moments  he 
checked  his  horse.  Another  figure  on  horseback 
had  appeared  on  the  brow  of  the  hill.  This  com- 
pletely altered  the  case.  The  Count  had  wandered 
off  alone  ;  no  other  person  had  been  missing  from 
the  camp.  If  one  of  these  horsemen  were  indeed 
the  Count,  the  other  must  be  an  Indian.  If  an 
Indian,  in  all  probability  a  Pawnee.  Perhaps  they 
were  both  Indians  ;  scouts  of  some  party  lurking 
in  the  vicinity.  While  these  and  other  sugges- 
tions were  hastily  discussed,  the  two  horsemen 
glided  down  from  the  profile  of  the  hill,  and  we 
lost  sight  of  them.  One  of  the  rangers  suggested 
that  there  might  be  a  straggling  party  of  Pawnees 
behind  the  hill,  and  that  the  Count  might  have 
fallen  into  their  hands.  The  idea  had  an  electric 
effect  upon  the  little  troop.  In  an  instant  every 
horse  was  at  full  speed,  the  half-breeds  leading 
the  way ;  the  young  rangers  as  they  rode  set  up 
wild  yelps  of  exultation  at  the  thoughts  of  having  a 
brush  with  the  Indians.  A  neck  or  nothing  gallop 
brought  us  to  the  skirts  of  the  hill,  and  revealed 
our  mistake.  In  a  ravine  we  found  the  two  horse- 
men standing  by  the  carcass  of  a  buffalo  which 
they  had  killed.  They  proved  to  be  two  rangers, 


who,  unperceived,  had  left  the  camp  a  little  be- 
fore us,  and  had  come  here  in  a  direct  line,  while 
we  had  made  a  wide  circuit  about  the  prairie. 

This  episode  being  at  an  end,  and  the  sudden 
excitement  being  over,  we  slowly  and  coolly  re- 
traced our  steps  to  the  meadow  ;  but  it  was  some 
time  before  our  half-breeds  could  again  get  on 
the  track  of  the  Count.  Having  at  length  found 
it,  they  succeeded  in  following  it  through  all  its 
doublings,  until  they  came  to  where  it  was  no 
longer  mingled  with  the  tramp  of  buffaloes,  but 
became  single  and  separate,  wandering  here  and 
there  about  the  prairies,  but  always  tending  in  a 
direction  opposite  to  that  of  the  camp.  Here  the 
Count  had  evidently  given  up  the  pursuit  of  the 
herd,  and  had  endeavored  to  find  his  way  to  the 
encampment,  but  had  become  bewildered  as  the 
evening  shades  thickened  around  him,  and  had 
completely  mistaken  the  points  of  the  compass. 

In  all  this  quest  our  half-breeds  displayed  that 
quickness  of  eye,  in  following  up  a  track,  for 
which  Indians  are  so  noted.  Beatte,  especially, 
was  as  staunch  as  a  veteran  hound.  Sometimes 
he  would  keep  forward  on  an  easy  trot ;  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground  a  little  ahead  of  his  horse, 
clearly  distinguishing  prints  in  the  herbage  which 
to  me  were  invisible,  excepting  on  the  closest 
inspection.  Sometimes  he  would  pull  up  and 
walk  his  horse  slowly,  regarding  the  ground  in- 
tensely, where  to  my  eye  nothing  was  apparent. 
Then  he  would  dismount,  lead  his  horse  by  the 
bridle,  and  advance  cautiously  step  by  step,  with 
his  face  bent  toward  the  earth,  just  catching, 
here  and  there,  a  casual  indication  of  the  vaguest 
kind  to  guide  him  onward.  In  some  places  where 
the  soil  was  hard  and  the  grass  withered,  he 
would  lose  the  track  entirely,  and  wander  back- 
ward and  forward,  and  right  and  left,  in  search 
of  it ;  returning  occasionally  to  the  place  where 
he  had  lost  sight  of  it,  to  take  a  new  departure. 
If  this  failed  he  would  examine  the  banks  of  the 
neighboring  streams,  or  the  sandy  bottoms  of  the 
ravines,  in  hopes  of  finding  tracks  where  the 
Count  had  crossed.  When  he  again  came  upon 
the  track,  he  would  remount  his  horse,  and  re- 
sume his  onward  course.  At  length,  after  cross- 
ing a  stream,  in  the  crumbling  banks  of  which 
the  hoofs  of  the  horse  were  deeply  dented,  we 
came  upon  a  high  dry  prairie,  where  our  half- 
breeds  were  completely  baffled.  Not  a  foot-print 
was  to  be  discerned,  though  they  searched  in 
every  direction  ;  and  Beatte,  at  length  coming  to 
a  pause,  shook  his  head  despohdingly. 

Just  then  a  small  herd  of  deer,  roused  from  a 
neighboring  ravine,  came  bounding  by  us.  Beatte 
sprang  from  his  horse,  levelled  his  rifle,  and 
wounded  one  slightly,  but  without  bringing  it  to 
the  ground.  The  report  of  the  rifle  was  almost 
immediately  followed  by  a  long  halloo  from  a  dis- 
tance. We  looked  around  but  could  see  nothing. 
Another  long  halloo  was  heard,  and  at  length  a 
horseman  was  descried,  emerging  out  of  a  skirt 
of  forest.  A  single  glance  showed  him  to  be  the 
young  Count ;  there  was  a  universal  shout  and 
scamper,  every  one  setting  off  full  gallop  to  greet 
him.  It  was  a  joyful  meeting  to  both  parties  ; 
for,  much  anxiety  had  been  felt  by  us  all  on  ac- 
count of  his  youth  and  inexperience,  and  for  his 
part,  with  all  his  love  of  adventure,  he  seemed 
right  glad  to  be  once  more  among  his  friends. 

As  we  supposed,  he  had  completely  mistaken 
his  course  on  the  preceding  evening,  and  had 
wandered  about  until  dark,  when  he  thought  of 
bivouacking.  The  night  was  cold,  yet  he  feared 
to  make  a  fire,  lest  it  might  betray  him  to  some 


478 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


lurking  party  of  Indians.  Hobbling  his  horse 
•with  his  pocket  handkerchief,  and  leaving  him  to 
graze  on  the  margin  of  the  prairie,  he  clambered 
into  a  tree,  fixed  his  saddle  in  the  fork  of  the 
branches,  and  placing  himself  securely  with  his 
back  against  the  trunk,  prepared  to  pass  a  dreary 
and  anxious  night,  regaled  occasionally  with  the 
howlings  of  the  wolves.  He  was  agreeably  dis- 
appointed. The  fatigue  of  the  day  soon  brought 
on  a  sound  sleep  ;  he  had  delightful  dreams  about 
his  home  in  Switzerland,  nor  did  he  wake  until  it 
was  broad  daylight. 

He  then  descended  from  his  roosting-place, 
mounted  his  horse,  and  rode  to  the  naked  summit 
of  a  hill,  whence  he  beheld  a  trackless  wilderness 
around  him,  but,  at  no  great  distance,  the  Grand 
Canadian,  winding  its  way  between  borders  of 
forest  land.  The  sight  of  this  river  consoled  him 
with  the  idea  that,  should  he  fail  in  finding  his 
way  back  to  the  camp,  or,  in  being  found  by  some 
party  of  his  comrades,  he  might  follow  the  course 
of  the  stream,  which  could  not  fail  to  conduct 
him  to  some  frontier  post,  or  Indian  hamlet. 
So  closed  the  events  of  our  hap-hazard  buffalo 
hunt. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  Republic  of  Prairie  Doffs. 

ON  returning  from  our  expedition  in  quest  of  the 
young  Count,  I  learned  that  a  burrow,  or  village, 
as  it  is  termed,  of  prairie  dogs  had  been  discov- 
ered on  the  level  summit  of  a  hill,  about  a  mile 
from  the  camp.  Having  heard  much  of  the  hab- 
its and  peculiarities  of  these  little  animals,  I  de- 
termined to  pay  a  visit  to  the  community.  The 
prairie  dog  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  curiosities  of 
the  Far  West,  about  which  travellers  delight  to 
tell  marvellous  tales,  endowing  him  at  times  with 
something  of  the  politic  and  social  habits  of  a 
rational  being,  and  giving  him  systems  of  civil 
government  and  domestic  economy,  almost  equal 
to  what  they  used  to  bestow  upon  the  beaver. 

The  prairie  dog  is  an  animal  of  the  coney  kind, 
and  about  the  size  of  a  rabbit.  He  is  of  a 
sprightly  mercurial  nature  ;  quick,  sensitive,  and 
somewhat  petulant.  He  is  very  gregarious,  liv- 
ing in  large  communities,  sometimes  of  several 
acres  in  extent,  where  innumerable  little  heaps  of 
earth  show  the  entrances  to  the  subterranean 
cells  of  the  inhabitants,  and  the  well  beaten 
tracks,  like  lanes  and  streets,  show  their  mobility 
and  restlessness.  According  to  the  accounts 
given  of  them,  they  would  seem  to  be  continually 
full  of  sport,  business,  and  public  affairs  ;  whisk- 
ing about  hither  and  thither,  as  if  on  gossiping 
visits  to  each  other's  houses,  or  congregating  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening,  or  after  a  shower,  and 
gamboling  together  in  the  open  air.  Sometimes, 
especially  when  the  moon  shines,  they  pass  half 
the  night  in  revelry,  barking  or  yelping  with  short, 
quick,  yet  weak  tones,  like  those  of  very  young 
puppies.  While  in  the  height  of  their  playfulness 
and  clamor,  however,  should  there  be  the  least 
alarm,  they  all  vanish  into  their  cells  in  an  in- 
stant, and  the  village  remains  blank  and  silent. 
In  ease  they  are  hard  pressed  by  their  pursuers, 
without  any  hope  of  escape,  they  will  assume  a 
pugnacious  air,  and  a  most  whimsical  look  of 
impotent  wrath  and  defiance. 

The  prairie  dogs  are  not  permitted  to  remain 
sole  and  undisturbed  inhabitants  of  their  own 


homes.  Owls  and  rattlesnakes  are  said  to  take  up 
their  abodes  with  them  ;  but  whether  as  invited 
guests  or  unwelcome  intruders,  is  a  matter  of 
controversy.  The  owls  are  of  a  peculiar  kind, 
and  would  seem  to  partake  of  the  character  of 
the  hawk  ;  for  they  are  taller  and  more  erect  on 
their  legs,  more  alert  in  their  looks  and  rapid  in 
their  flight  than  ordinary  owls,  and  do  not  con- 
fine their  excursions  to  the  night,  but  sally  forth 
in  broad  day. 

Some  say  that  they  only  inhabit  cells  which 
the  prairie  dogs  have  deserted,  and  suffered  to  go 
to  ruin,  in  consequence  of  the  death  in  them  of 
some  relative  ;  for  they  would  make  out  this  lit- 
tle animal  to  be  endowed  with  keen  sensibilities, 
that  will  not  permit  it  to  remain  in  the  dwelling 
where  it  has  witnessed  the  death  of  a  friend. 
Other  fanciful  speculators  represent  the  owl  as  a 
kind  of  housekeeper  to  the  prairie  dog  ;  and,  from 
having  a  note  very  similar,  insinuate  that  it  acts, 
in  a  manner,  as  family  preceptor,  and  teaches 
the  young  litter  to  bark. 

As  to  the  rattlesnake,  nothing  satisfactory  has 
been  ascertained  of  the  part  he  plays  in  this  most 
interesting  household  ;  though  he  is  considered  as 
little  better  than  a  sycophant  and  sharper,  that 
winds  himself  into  the  concerns  of  the  honest, 
credulous  little  dog,  and  takes  him  in  most  sadly. 
Certain  it  is,  if  he  acts  as  toad-eater,  he  occasion- 
ally solaces  himself  with  more  than  the  usual 
perquisites  of  his  order ;  as  he  is  now  and  then 
detected  with  one  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
family  in  his  maw. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  particulars  that  I  could 
gather  about  the  domestic  economy  of  this  little 
inhabitant  of  the  prairies,  who,  with  his  pigmy 
republic,  appears  to  be  a  subject  of  much  whim- 
sical speculation  and  burlesque  remarks  among 
the  hunters  of  the  Far  West. 

It  was  toward  evening  that  I  set  out  with  a 
companion,  to  visit  the  village  in  question.  Un- 
luckily, it  had  been  invaded  in  the  course  of  the 
day  by  some  of  the  rangers,  who  had  shot  two  or 
three  of  its  inhabitants,  and  thrown  the  whole 
sensitive  community  in  confusion.  As  we  ap- 
proached, we  could  perceive  numbers  of  the  in- 
habitants seated  at  the  entrances  of  their  cells, 
while  sentinels  seemed  to  have  been  posted  on 
the  outskirts,  to  keep  a  look-out.  At  sight  of  us, 
the  picket  guards  scampered  in  and  gave  the 
alarm  ;  whereupon  every  inhabitant  gave  a  short 
yelp,  or  bark,  and  dived  into  his  hole,  his  heels 
twinkling  in  the  air  as  if  he  had  thrown  a  somer- 
sault. 

We  traversed  the  whole  village,  or  republic, 
which  covered  an  area  of  about  thirty  acres  ;  but 
not  a  whisker  of  an  inhabitant  was  to  be  seen. 
We  probed  their  cells  as  far  as  the  ramrods  of 
our  rifles  would  reach,  but  could  unearth  neither 
dog,  nor  owl,  nor  rattlesnake.  Moving  quietly 
to  a  little  distance,  we  lay  down  upon  the  ground, 
and  watched  for  a  long  time,  silent  and  motion- 
less. By  and  by,  a  cautious  old  burgher  would 
slowly  put  forth  the  end  of  his  nose,  but  instantly 
draw  it  in  again.  Another,  at  a  greater  distance, 
would  emerge  entirely  ;  but,  catching  a  glance  of 
us,  would  throw  a  somersaylt,  and  plunge  back 
again  into  his  hole.  At  length,  some  who  resided 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  village,  taking  cour- 
age from  the  continued  stillness,  would  steal 
forth,  and  hurry  off  to  a  distant  hole,  the  resi- 
dence possibly  of  some  family  connection,  or  gos- 
siping friend,  about  whose  safety  they  were  solici- 
tous, or  with  whom  they  wished  to  compare  notes 
about  the  late  occurrences. 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


479 


Others,  still  more  bold,  assembled  in  little 
knots,  in  the  streets  and  public  places,  as  if  to 
discuss  the  recent  outrages  offered  to  the  com- 
monwealth, and  the  atrocious  murders  of  their  fel- 
low-burghers. 

We  rose  from  the  ground  and  moved  forward, 
to  take  a  nearer  view  of  these  public  proceedings, 
when  yelp  !  yelp  !  yelp !— there  was  a  shrill  alarm 
passed  from  mouth  to  mouth  ;  the  meetings  sud- 
denly dispersed  ;  feet  twinkled  in  the  air  in  every 
direction  ;  and  in  an  instant  all  had  vanished 
into  the  earth. 

The  dusk  of  the  evening  put  an  end  to  our  ob- 
servations, but  the  train  of  whimsical  compari- 
sons produced  in  my  brain  by  the  moral  attri- 
butes which  I  had  heard  given  to  these  little 
politic  animals,  still  continued  after  my  return  to 
camp  ;  and  late  in  the  night,  as  I  lay  awake  after 
all  the  camp  was  asleep,  and  heard  in  the  still- 
ness of  the  hour,  a  faint  clamor  of  shrill  voices 
from  the  distant  village,  I  could  not  help  pictur- 
ing to  myself  the  inhabitants  gathered  together 
in  noisy  assemblage  and  windy  debate,  to  devise 
plans  for  the  public  safety,  and  to  vindicate  the  in- 
vaded rights  and  insulted  dignity  of  the 'republic. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A  Council  in  the  Camp. — Reasons  for  Facing  Homeward. 
— Horses  Lost. — Departure  with  a  Detachment  on 
the  Homeward  Route. — Swamp. —  Wild  Horse. — 
Camp  Scenes  by  Night. — The  Owl,  Harbinger  of 
Dawn. 

WHILE  breakfast  was  preparing,  a  council  was 
held  as  to  our  future  movements.  Symptoms  of 
discontent  had  appeared  for  a  day  or  two  past 
among  the  rangers,  most  of  whom,  unaccustomed 
to  the  life  of  the  prairies,  had  become  impatient 
of  its  privations,  as  well  as  the  restraints  of  the 
camp.  The  want  of  bread  had  been  felt  severely, 
and  they  were  wearied  with  constant  travel.  In 
fact,  the  novelty  and  excitement  of  the  expedi- 
tion were  at  an  end.  They  had  hunted  the  deer, 
the  bear,  the  elk,  the  buffalo,  and  the  wild  horse, 
and  had  no  further  object  of  leading  interest  to 
look  forward  to.  A  general  inclination  prevailed, 
therefore,  to  turn  homeward. 

Grave  reasons  disposed  the  Captain  and  his 
officers  to  adopt  this  resolution.  Our  horses 
were  generally  much  jaded  by  the  fatigues  of 
travelling  and  hunting,  and  had  fallen  away  sadly 
for  want  of  good  pasturage,  and  from  being  teth- 
ered at  night,  to  protect  them  from  Indian  depre- 
dations. The  late  rains,  too,  seemed  to  have 
washed  away  the  nourishment  from  the  scanty 
herbage  that  remained  ;  and  since  our  encamp- 
ment during  the  storm,  our  horses  had  lost  flesh 
and  strength  rapidly.  With  every  possible  care, 
horses,  accustomed  to  grain,  and  to  the  regular 
and  plentiful  nourishment  of  the  stable  and  the 
farm,  lose  heart  and  condition  in  travelling  on  the 
prairies.  In  all  expeditions  of  the  kind  we  were 
engaged  in,  the  hardy  Indian  horses,  which  are 
generally  mustangs,  or  a  cross  of  the  wild  breed, 
are  to  be  preferred.  They  can  stand  all  fatigues, 
hardships,  and  privations,  and  thrive  on  the 
grasses  and  wild  herbage  of  the  plains. 

Our  men,  too,  had  acted  with  little  forethought  ; 
galloping  off  whenever  they  had  a  chance,  after 
the  game  that  we  encountered  while  on  the 
march.  In  this  way  they  had  strained  and  wearied 
their  horses,  instead  of  husbanding  their  strength 


and  spirits.  On  a  tour  of  the  kind,  horses  should 
as  seldom  as  possible  be  put  off  of  a  quiet  walk  ; 
and  the  average  day's  journey  should  not  exceed 
ten  miles. 

We  had  hoped,  by  pushing  forward,  to  reach 
the  bottoms  of  the  Red  River,  which  abound 
with  young  cane,  a  most  nourishing  forage  for 
cattle  at  this  season  of  the  year.  It  would  now 
take  us  several  days  to  arrive  there,  and  in  the 
meantime  many  of  our  horses  would  probably 
give  out.  It  was  the  time,  too,  when  the  hunting 
parties  of  Indians  set  fire  to  the  prairies  ;  the 
herbage,  throughout  this  part  of  the  country, 
was  in  that  parched  state,  favorable  to  combus- 
tion, and  there  was  daily  more  and  more  risk 
that  the  prairies  between  us  and  the  fort  would 
be  set  on  fire  by  some  of  the  return  parties  of 
Osages,  and  a  scorched  desert  left  for  us  to  tra- 
verse. In  a  word,  we  had  started  too  late  in  the 
season,  or  loitered  too  much  in  the  early  part  of 
our  march,  to  accomplish  our  originally  intended 
tour  ;  and  there  was  imminent  hazard,  if  we  con- 
tinued on,  that  we  should  lose  the  greater  part  of 
our  horses;  and,  besides  suffering  various  other 
inconveniences,  be  obliged  to  return  on  foot.  It 
was  determined,  therefore,  to  give  up  all  further 
progress,  and,  turning  our  faces  to  the  southeast, 
to  make  the  best  of  our  way  back  to  Fort  Gibson. 

This  resolution  being  taken,  there  was  an  im- 
mediate eagerness  to  put  it  into  operation.  Sev- 
eral horses,  however,  were  missing,  and  among 
others  those  of  the  Captain  and  the  Surgeon. 
Persons  had  gone  in  search  of  them,  but  the 
morning  advanced  without  any  tidings  of  them. 
Our  party  in  the  meantime,  being  all  ready  for  a 
march,  the  Commissioner  determined  to  set  off 
in  the  advance,  with  his  original  escort  of  a  lieu- 
tenant and  fourteen  rangers,  leaving  the  Captain 
to  come  on  at  his  convenience,  with  the  main 
body.  At  ten  o'clock  we  accordingly  started, 
under  the  guidance  of  Beatte,  who  had  hunted 
over  this  part  of  the  country,  and  knew  the  direct 
route  to  the  garrison. 

For  some  distance  we  skirted  the  prairie,  keep- 
ing a  southeast  direction  ;  and  in  the  course  of 
our  ride  we  saw  a  variety  of  wild  animals,  deer, 
white  and  black  wolves,  buffaloes,  and  wild 
horses.  To  the  latter,  our  half-breeds  and 
Tonish  gave  ineffectual  chase,  only  serving  to 
add  to  the  weariness  of  their  already  jaded  steeds. 
Indeed  it  is  rarely  that  any  but  the  weaker  and 
least  fleet  of  the  wild  horses  are  taken  in  these 
hard  racings  ;  while  the  horse  of  the  huntsman 
is  prone  to  be  knocked  up.  The  latter,  in  fact, 
risks  a  good  horse  to  catch  a  bad  one.  On  this 
occasion,  Tonish,  who  was  a  perfect  imp  on 
horseback,  and  noted  for  ruining  every  animal 
he  bestrode,  succeeded  in  laming  and  almost  dis- 
abling the  powerful  gray  on  which  we  had 
mounted  him  at  the  outset  of  our  tour. 

After  proceeding  a  few  miles,  we  left  the 
prairie,  and  struck  to  the  east,  taking  what  Beatte 
pronounced  an  old  Osage  war-track.  This  led  us 
through  a  rugged  tract  of  country,  overgrown 
with  scrubbed  forests  and  entangled  thickets,  and 
intersected  by  deep  ravines,  and  brisk-running 
streams,  the  sources  of  Little  River.  About 
three  o'clock,  we  encamped  by  some  pools  of 
water  in  a  small  valley,  having  come  about  four- 
teen miles.  We  had  brought  on  a  supply  of 
provisions  from  our  last  camp,  and  supped  heart- 
ily upon  stewed  buffalo  meat,  roasted  venison, 
beignets,  or  fritters  of  flour  fried  in  bear's  lard, 
and  tea  made  of  a  species  of  the  golden-rod, 
which  we  had  found,  throughout  our  whole  route, 


480 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES, 


almost  as  grateful  a  beverage  as  coffee.  Indeed 
our  coffee,  which,  as  long  as  it  held  out,  had  been 
served  up  with  every  meal,  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  West,  was  by  no  means  a  beverage 
to  boast  of.  It  was  roasted  in  a  frying-pan, 
without  much  care,  pounded  in  a  leathern  bag, 
with  a  round  stone,  and  boiled  in  our  prime  and 
almost  only  kitchen  utensil,  the  camp  kettle,  in 
"  branch  "or  brook  water  ;  which,  on  the  prai- 
ries, is  deeply  colored  by  the  soil,  of  which  it 
always  holds  abundant  particles  in  a  state  of 
solution  and  suspension.  In  fact,  in  the  course 
of  our  tour,  we  had  tasted  the  quality  of  every 
variety  of  soil,  and  the  draughts  of  water  we 
had  taken  might  vie  in  diversity  of  color,  if  not 
of  flavor,  with  the  tinctures  of  an  apothecary's 
shop.  Pure,  limpid  water  is  a  rare  luxury  on 
the  prairies,  at  least  at  this  season  of  the  year. 
Supper  over,  we  placed  sentinels  about  our 
scanty  and  diminished  camp,  spread  our  skins 
and  blankets  under  the  trees,  now  nearly  desti- 
tute of  foliage,  and  slept  soundly  until  morning. 

We  had  a  beautiful  daybreak.  The  camp 
again  resounded  with  cheerful  voices  ;  every  one 
was  animated  with  the  thoughts  of  soon  being  at 
the  fort,  and  revelling  on  bread  and  vegetables. 
Even  our  saturnine  man,  Beatte,  seemed  in- 
spired on  this  occasion  ;  and  as  he  drove  up  the 
horses  for  the  march,  I  heard  him  singing,  in 
nasal  tones,  a  most  forlorn  Indian  ditty.  All 
this  transient  gayety,  however,  soon  died  away 
amidst  the  fatigues  of  our  march,  which  lay 
through  the  same  kind  of  rough,  hilly,  thicketed 
country  as  that  of  yesterday.  In  the  course  of 
the  morning  we  arrived  at  the  valley  of  the  Lit- 
tle River,  where  it  wound  through  a  broad  bottom 
of  alluvial  soil.  At  present  it  had  overflowed  its 
banks,  and  inundated  a  great  part  of  the  valley. 
The  difficulty  was  to  distinguish  the  stream  from 
the  broad  sheets  of  Avater  it  had  formed,  and  to 
find  a  place  where  it  might  be  forded ;  for  it 
was  in  general  deep  and  miry,  with  abrupt 
crumbling  banks.  Under  the  pilotage  of  Beatte, 
therefore,  we  wandered  for  some  time  among  the 
links  made  by  this  winding  stream,  in  what  ap- 
peared to  us  a  trackless  labyrinth  of  swamps, 
thickets,  and  standing  pools.  Sometimes  our 
jaded  horses  dragged  their  limbs  forward  with 
the  utmost  difficulty,  having  to  toil  for  a  great 
distance,  with  the  water  up  to  the  stirrups,  and 
beset  at  the  bottom  with  roots  and  creeping 
plants.  Sometimes  we  had  to  force  our  way 
through  dense  thickets  of  brambles  and  grape- 
vines, which  almost  pulled  us  out  of  our  saddles. 
In  one  place,  one  of  the  pack-horses  sunk  in  the 
mire  and  fell  on  his  side,  so  as  to  be  extricated 
•with  great  difficulty.  Wherever  the  soil  was 
bare,  or  there  was  a  sand-bank,  we  beheld  in- 
numerable tracks  of  bears,  wolves,  wild  horses, 
turkeys,  and  water-fowl ;  showing  the  abundant 
sport  this  valley  might  afford  to  the  huntsman. 
Our  men,  however,  were  sated  with  hunting,  and 
too  weary  to  be  excited  by  these  signs,  which  in 
the  outset  of  our  tour  would  have  put  them  in  a 
fever  of  anticipation.  Their  only  desire,  at  pres- 
ent, was  to  push  on  doggedly  for  the  fortress. 

At  length  we  succeeded  in  finding  a  fording 
place,  where  we  all  crossed  Little  River,  with  the 
water  and  mire  to  the  saddle-girths,  and  then 
halted  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  to  overhaul  the  wet 
baggage,  and  give  the  horses  time  to  rest. 

On  resuming  our  march,  we  came  to  a  pleas- 
ant little  meadow,  surrounded  by  groves  of  elms 
and  cotton-wood  trees,  in  the  midst  of  which  was 
a  fine  black  horse  grazing.  Beatte,  who  was  in 


the  advance,  beckoned  us  to  halt,  and,  being 
mounted  on  a  mare,  approached  the  horse  gently, 
step  by  step,  imitating  the  whinny  of  the  animal 
with  admirable  exactness.  The  noble  courser 
of  the  prairie  gazed  for  a  time,  snuffed  the  air, 
neighed,  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  pranced  round 
and  round  the  mare  in  gallant  style  ;  but  kept 
at  too  great  a  distance  for  Beatte  to  throw  the 
lariat.  He  was  a  magnificent  object,  in  all  the 
pride  and  glory  of  his  nature.  It  was  admirable 
to  see  the  lofty  and  airy  carriage  of  his  head  ; 
the  freedom  of  every  movement ;  the  elasticity 
with  which  he  trod  the  meadow.  Finding  it  im- 
possible to  get  within  noosing  distance,  and  see- 
ing that  the  horse  was  receding  and  growing 
alarmed,  Beatte  slid  down  from  his  saddle, 
levelled  his  rifle  across  the  back  of  his  mare,  and 
took  aim,  with  the  evident  intention  of  creasing 
him.  I  felt  a  throb  of  anxiety  for  the  safety  of 
the  noble  animal,  and  called  out  to  Beatte  to  de- 
sist. It  was  too  late  ;  he  pulled  the  trigger  as  I 
spoke  ;  luckily  he  did  not  shoot  with  his  usual 
accuracy,  and  I  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  the 
coal-black  steed  dash  off  unharmed  into  the 
forest. 

On  leaving  this  valley,  we  ascended  among 
broken  hills  and  rugged,  ragged  forests,  equally 
harassing  to  horse  and  rider.  The  ravines,  too, 
were  of  red  clay,  and  often  so  steep  that,  in  de- 
scending, the  horses  would  put  their  feet  together 
and  fairly  slide  down,  and  then  scramble  up  the 
opposite  side  like  cats.  Here  and  there,  among 
the  thickets  in  the  valleys,  we  met  with  sloes 
and  persimmon,  and  the  eagerness  with  which 
our  men  broke  from  the  line  of  march,  and  ran 
to  gather  these  poor  fruits,  showed  how  much 
they  craved  some  vegetable  condiment,  after 
living  so  long  exclusively  on  animal  food. 

About  half  past  three  we  encamped  near  a 
brook  in  a  meadow,  where  there  was  some  scanty- 
herbage  for  our  half-famished  horses.  As  Beatte 
had  killed  a  fat  doe  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and 
one  of  our  company  a  fine  turkey,  we  did  not 
lack  for  provisions. 

It  was  a  splendid  autumnal  evening.  The 
horizon,  after  sunset,  was  of  a  clear  apple  green, 
rising  into  a  delicate  lake  which  gradually  lost  it- 
self in  a  deep  purple  blue.  One  narrow  streak 
of  cloud,  of  a  mahogany  color,  edged  with  amber 
and  gold,  floated  in  the  west,  and  just  beneath  it 
was  the  evening  star,  shining  with  the  pure  bril- 
liancy of  a  diamond.  In  unison  with  this  scene, 
there  was  an  evening  concert  of  insects  of  various 
kinds,  all  blended  and  harmonized  into  one  sober 
and  somewhat  melancholy  note,  which  I  have 
always  found  to  have  a  soothing  effect  upon  the 
mind,  disposing  it  to  quiet  musings. 

The  night  that  succeeded  was  calm  and  beau- 
tiful. There  was  a  faint  light  from  the  moon, 
now  in  its  second  quarter,  and  after  it  had  set, 
a  fine  starlight,  with  shooting  meteors.  The 
wearied  rangers,  after  a  little  murmuring  conver- 
sation round  their  fires,  sank  to  rest  at  an  early 
hour,  and  I  seemed  to  have  the  whole  scene  to 
myself.  It  is  delightful,  in  thus  bivouacking  on 
the  prairies,  to  lie  awake  and  gaze  at  the  stars  ; 
it  is  like  watching  them  from  the  deck  of  a  ship 
at  sea,  when  at  one  view  we  have  the  whole  cope 
of  heaven.  One  realizes,  in  such  lonely  scenes, 
that  companionship  with  these  beautiful  lumi- 
naries which  made  astronomers  of  the  eastern 
shepherds,  as  they  watched  their  flocks  by  night. 
How  often,  while  contemplating  their  mild  and 
benignant  radiance,  I  have  called  to  mind  the 
exquisite  text  of  Job ;  "  Canst  thou  bind  the 


A  TOUR   ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


481 


secret  influences  of  the  Pleiades,  or  loose  the 
bands  of  Orion  ?  "  I  do  not  know  why  it  was, 
but  I  felt  this  night  unusually  affected  by  the 
solemn  magnificence  of  the  firmament ;  and 
seemed,  as  I  lay  thus  under  the  open  vault  of 
heaven,  to  inhale  the  pure  untainted  air,  an  ex- 
hilarating buoyancy  of  spirit,  and,  as  it  were, 
an  ecstasy  of  mind.  I  slept  and  waked  alter- 
nately ;  and  when  I  slept,  my  dreams  partook  of 
the  happy  tone  of  my  waking  reveries.  Toward 
morning,  one  of  the  sentinels,  the  oldest  man  in 
the  troop,  came  and  took  a  scat  near  me  ;  he 
was  weary  and  sleepy,  and  impatient  to  be  re- 
lieved. I  found  he  had  been  gazing  at  the 
heavens  also,  but  with  different  feelings. 

"  If  the  stars  don't  deceive  me,"  said  he,  "it 
is  near  daybreak." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt  of  that,"  said  Beattc, 
who  lay  close  by.  "  I  heard  an  owl  just  now." 

"  Does  the  owl,  then,  hoot  toward  daybreak  ?  " 
asked  I. 

"  Aye,  sir,  just  as  the  cock  crows." 

This  was  a  useful  habitude  of  the  bird  of  wis- 
dom, of  which  I  was  not  aware.  Neither  the 
stars  nor  owl  deceived  their  votaries.  In  a  short 
time  there  was  a  faint  streak  of  litrht  in  the  cast. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Old    Creek  Encampment. — Scarcity  of  Provisions. — Bad 
Weather. —  Weary  Marching. — A  Hunters  Bridge. 

THE  country  through  which  we  passed  this  morn- 
ing (November  2d),  was  less  rugged,  and  of  more 
agreeable  aspect  than  that  we  had  lately  tra- 
versed. At  eleven  o'clock,  we  came  out  upon  an 
extensive  prairie,  and  about  six  miles  to  our  left 
beheld  a  long  line  of  green  forest,  marking  the 
course  of  the  north  fork  of  the  Arkansas.  On  the 
edge  of  the  prairie,  and  in  a  spacious  grove  of 
noble  trees  which  overshadowed  a  small  brook, 
were  the  traces  of  an  old  Creek  hunting  camp. 
On  the  bark  of  the  trees  were  rude  delineations 
of  hunters  and  squaws,  scrawled  with  charcoal ; 
together  with  various  signs  and  hieroglyphics, 
which  our  half-breeds  interpreted  as  indicating 
that  from  this  encampment  the  hunters  had  re- 
turned home. 

In  this  beautiful  camping  ground  we  made  our 
mid-day  halt.  While  reposing  under  the  trees, 
we  heard  a  shouting  at  no  great  distance,  and 
presently  the  Captain  and  the  main  body  of 
rangers,  whom  we  had  left  behind  two  days  since, 
emerged  from  the  thickets,  and  crossing  the 
brook,  were  joyfully  welcomed  into  the  camp. 
The  Captain  and  the  Doctor  had  been  unsuccess- 
ful in  the  search  after  their  horses,  and  were 
obliged  to  march  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time 
on  foot ;  yet  they  had  come  on  with  more  than 
ordinary  speed. 

We  resumed  our  march  about  one  o'clock, 
keeping  easterly,  and  approaching  the  north  fork 
obliquely ;  it  was  late  before  we  found  a  good 
camping  place ;  the  beds  of  the  streams  were  dry, 
the  prairies,  too,  had  been  burnt  in  various  places, 
by  Indian  hunting  parties.  At  length  we  found 
water  in  a  small  alluvial  bottom,  where  there  was 
tolerable  pasturage. 

On  the  following  morning   there  were  flashes 

of   lightning   in  the    east,   with    low,    rumbling 

thunder,    and    clouds    began    to    gather    about 

the   horizon.     Beatte    prognosticated   rain,   and 

81 


that  the  wind  would  veer  to  the  north.  In 
the  course  of  our  march,  a  flock  of  brant  were 
seen  overhead,  flying  from  the  north.  "There 
comes  the  wind !  "  said  Beatte  ;  and,  in  fact,  it 
began  to  blow  from  that  quarter  almost  immedi- 
ately, with  occasional  flurries  of  rain.  About 
half  past  nine  o'clock,  we  forded  the  north  fork 
of  the  Canadian,  and  encamped  about  one,  that 
our  hunters  might  have  time  to  beat  up  the  neigh- 
borhood for  game  ;  for  a  serious  scarcity  began 
to  prevail  in  the  camp.  Most  of  the  rangers  were 
young,  heedless,  and  inexperienced,  and  could 
not  be  prevailed  upon,  while  provisions  abounded, 
to  provide  for  the  future,  by  jerking  meat,  or  car- 
rying away  any  on  their  horses.  On  leaving  an 
encampment,  they  would  leave  quantities  of 
meat  lying  about,  trusting  to  Providence  and 
their  rifles  for  a  future  supply.  The  consequence 
was,  that  any  temporary  scarcity  of  game,  or  ill- 
luck  in  hunting,  produced  almost  a  famine  in  the 
camp.  In  the  present  instance,  they  had  left 
loads  of  buffalo  meat  at  the  camp  on  the  great 
prairie  ;  r.nd,  having  ever  since  been  on  a  forced 
march,  leaving  no  time  for  hunting,  they  were 
now  destitute  of  supplies,  and  pinched  with  hun- 
ger. Some  had  not  eaten  any  thing  since  the 
morning  of  the  preceding  day.  Nothing  would 
have  persuaded  them,  when  revelling  in  the  abun-' 
dance  of  the  buffalo  encampment,  that  they  would 
so  soon  be  in  such  famishing  plight. 

The  hunters  returned  with  indifferent  success. 
The  game  had  been  frightened  away  from  this 
part  of  the  country  by  Indian  hunting  parties, 
which  had  preceded  us.  Ten  or  a  dozen  wild 
turkeys  were  brought  in,  but  not  a  deer  had  been 
seen.  The  rangers  began  to  think  turkeys  and 
even  prairie-hens  deserving  of  attention  ;  game  • 
which  they  had  hitherto  considered  unworthy  of 
their  rifles. 

The  night  was  cold  and  windy,  with  occasional 
sprinklings  of  rain  ;  but  we  had  roaring  fires  to 
keep  us  comfortable.  In  the  night,  a  flight  of 
wild  geese  passed  over  the  camp,  making  a  great 
cackling  in  the  air  ;  symptoms  of  approaching 
winter. 

We  set  forward  at  an  early  hour  the  next  morn- 
ing, in  a  northeast  course,  and  came  upon  the 
trace  of  a  party  of  Creek  Indians,  which  enabled 
our  poor  horses  to  travel  with  more  ease.  We 
entered  upon  a  fine  champaign  country.  From 
a  rising  ground  we  had  a  noble  prospect,  over 
extensive  prairies,  finely  diversified  by  groves 
and  tracts  of  woodland,  and  bounded  by  long 
lines  of  distant  hills,  all  clothed  with  the  rich 
mellow  tints  of  autumn.  Game,  too,  was  more 
plenty.  A  fine  buck  sprang  up  from  among  the 
herbage  on  our  right,  and  dashed  off  at  full 
speed  ;  but  a  young  ranger  by  the  name  of 
Childers,  who  was  on  foot,  levelled  his  rifle,  dis- 
charged a  ball  that  broke  the  neck  of  the  bound- 
ing deer,  and  sent  him  tumbling  head  over  heels 
forward.  Another  buck  and  a  doe,  besides  sev- 
eral turkeys,  were  killed  before  we  came  to  a  halt, 
so  that  the  hungry  mouths  of  the  troop  were  once 
more  supplied. 

About  three  o'clock  we  encamped  in  a  grove 
after  a  forced  march  of  twenty-five  miles,  that 
had  proved  a  hard  trial  to  the  horses.  For  a 
long  time  after  the  head  of  the  line  had  en- 
camped, the  rest  kept  straggling  in,  two  and 
three  at  a  time  ;  one  of  our  pack-horses  had 
given  out,  about  nine  miles  back,  and  a  pony  be- 
longing to  Beatte,  shortly  after.  Many  of  the 
other  horses  looked  so  gaunt  and  feeble,  that 
doubts  were  entertained  of  their  being  able  to 


482 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


reach  the  fort.  In  the  night  there  was  heavy 
rain,  and  the  morning  dawned  cloudy  and  dismal. 
The  camp  resounded,  however,  with  something 
of  its  former  gayety.  The  rangers  had  supped 
well,  and  were  renovated  in  spirits,  anticipating 
a  speedy  arrival  at  the  garrison.  Before  we  set 
forward  on  our  march,  Beatte  returned,  and 
brought  his  pony  to  the  camp  with  great  diffi- 
culty. The  pack-horse,  however,  was  completely 
knocked  up  and  had  to  be  abandoned.  The  wild 
mare,  too,  had  cast  her  foal,  through  exhaustion, 
and  was  not  in  a  state  to  go  forward.  She  and 
the  pony,  therefore,  were  left  at  this  encamp- 
ment, where  there  was  water  and  good  pasturage ; 
and  where  there  would  be  a  chance  of  their  re- 
viving, and  being  afterward  sought  out  and 
brought  to  the  garrison. 

We  set  off  about  eight  o'clock,  and  had  a  day 
of  weary  and  harassing  travel ;  part  of  the  time 
over  rough  hills,  and  part  over  rolling  prairies. 
The  rain  had  rendered  the  soil  slippery  and 
plashy,  so  as  to  afford  unsteady  foothold.  Some 
of  the  rangers  dismounted,  their  horses  having  no 
longer  strength  to  bear  them.  We  made  a  halt 
in  the  course  of  the  morning,  but  the  horses  were 
too  tired  to  graze.  Several  of  them  laid  down, 
and  there  was  some  difficulty  in  getting  them  on 
their  feet  again.  Our  troop  presented  a  forlorn 
appearance,  straggling  slowly  along,  in  a  broken 
and  scattered  line,  that  extended  over  hill  and 
dale,  for  three  miles  and  upward,  in  groups  of 
three  and  four,  widely  apart ;  some  on  horseback, 
some  on  foot,  with  a  few  laggards  far  in  the  rear. 
About  four  o'clock,  we  halted  for  the  night  in  a 
spacious  forest,  beside  a  deep  narrow  river, 
called  the  Little  North  Fork,  or  Deep  Creek. 
It  was  late  before  the  main  part  of  the  troop 
straggled  into  the  encampment,  many  of  the 
horses  having  given  out.  As  this  stream  was  too 
deep  to  be  forded,  we  waited  until  the  next  day 
to  devise  means  to  cross  it ;  but  our  half-breeds 
swam  the  horses  of  our  party  to  the  other  side  in 
the  evening,  as  they  would  have  better  pasturage, 
and  the  stream  was  evidently  swelling  The 
night  was  cold  and  unruly ;  the  wind  sounding 
hoarsely  through  the  forest  and  whirling  about 
the  dry  leaves.  We  made  long  fires  of  great 
trunks  of  trees,  which  diffused  something  of  con- 
solation if  not  cheerfulness  around. 

The  next  morning  there  was  general  permis- 
sion given  to  hunt  until  twelve  o'clock  ;  the  camp 
being  destitute  of  provisions.  The  rich  woody 
bottom  in  which  we  were  encamped  abounded 
with  wild  turkeys,  of  which  a  considerable  num- 
ber were  killed.  In  the  meantime,  preparations 
were  made  for  crossing  the  river,  which  had  risen 
several  feet  during  the  night ;  and  it  was  deter- 
mined to  fell  trees  for  the  purpose,  to  serve  as 
bridges. 

The  Captain  and  Doctor,  and  one  or  two  other 
leaders  of  the  camp,  versed  in  woodcraft,  exam- 
ined, with  learned  eye,  the  trees  growing  on  the 
river  bank,  until  they  singled  out  a  couple  of  the 
largest  size,  and  most  suitable  inclinations.  The 
axe  was  then  vigorously  applied  to  their  roots,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  insure  their  falling  directly 
across  the  stream.  As  they  did  not  reach  to  the 
opposite  bank,  it  was  necessary  for  some  of  the 
men  to  swim  across  and  fell  trees  on  the  other 
side,  to  meet  them.  They  at  length  succeeded 
in  making  a  precarious  footway  across  the  deep 
and  rapid  current,  by  which  the  baggage  could 
be  carried  over  ;  but  it  was  necessary  to  grope 
our  way,  step  by  step,  along  the  trunks  and  main 
branches. of  the  trees,  which  for  a  part  of  the  dis- 


tance were  completely  submerged,  so  that  we 
were  to  our  waists  in  water.  Most  of  the  horses 
were  then  swam  across,  but  some  of  them  were 
too  weak  to  brave  the  current,  and  evidently  too 
much  knocked  up  to  bear  any  further  travel. 
Twelve  men,  therefore,  were  left  at  the  encamp- 
ment to  guard  these  horses,  until,  by  repose  and 
good  pasturage,  they  should  be  sufficiently  recov- 
ered to  complete  their  journey  ;  and  the  Captain 
engaged  to  send  the  men  a  supply  of  flour  and 
other  necessaries,  as  soon  as  we  should  arrive 
at  the  Fort. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  Look-out  for  Land. — Hard  Travelling  and  Hungry 
Halting: — A  frontier  Farmhouse, — Arrival  at  the 
Garrison. 

IT  was  a  little  after  one  o'clock  when  we  again  re- 
sumed our  weary  wayfaring.  The  residue  of  that 
day  and  the  whole  of  the  next  were  spent  in  toil- 
some travel.  Part  of  the  way  was  over  stony 
hills,  part  across  wide  prairies,  rendered  spongy 
and  miry  by  the  recent  rain,  and  cut  up  by 
brooks  swollen  into  torrents.  Our  poor  horses 
were  so  feeble,  that  it  was  with  difficulty  we 
could  get  them  across  the  deep  ravines  and  tur- 
bulent streams.  In  traversing  the  miry  plains, 
they  slipped  and  staggered  at  every  step,  and 
most  of  us  were  obliged  to  dismount  and  walk  for 
the  greater  part  of  the  way.  Hunger  prevailed 
throughout  the  troop  ;  every  one  began  to  look 
anxious  and  haggard,  and  to  feel  the  growing 
length  of  each  additional  mile.  At  one  time,  in 
crossing  a  hill,  Beatte  climbed  a  high  tree,  com- 
manding a  wide  prospect,  and  took  a  look-out, 
like  a  mariner  from  the  mast-head  at  sea.  He 
came  down  with  cheering  tidings.  To  the  left  he 
had  beheld  a  line  of  forest  stretching  across  the 
country,  which  he  knew  to  be  the  woody  border 
of  the  Arkansas  ;  and  at  a  distance  he  had  re- 
cognized certain  landmarks,  from  which  he  con- 
cluded that  we  could  not  be  above  forty  miles 
distant  from  the  fort.  It  was  like  the  welcome 
cry  of  land  to  tempest-tossed  mariners. 

In  fact  we  soon  after  saw  smoke  rising  from  a 
woody  glen  at  a  distance.  It  was  supposed  to  be 
made  by  a  hunting-party  of  Creek  or  Osage  In- 
dians from  the  neighborhood  of  the  fort,  and  was 
joyfully  hailed  as  a  harbinger  of  man.  It  was 
now  confidently  hoped  that  we  would  soon  arrive 
among  the  frontier  hamlets  of  Creek  Indians, 
which  are  scattered  along  the  skirts  of  the  unin- 
habited wilderness  ;  and  our  hungry  rangers 
trudged  forward  with  reviving  spirit,  regaling 
themselves  with  savory  anticipations  of  farm- 
house luxuries,  and  enumerating  every  article  of 
good  cheer,  until  their  mouths  fairly  watered  at 
the  shadowy  feasts  thus  conjured  up. 

A  hungry  night,  however,  closed  in  upon  a  toil- 
some day.  We  encamped  on  the  border  of  one 
of  the  tributary  streams  of  the  Arkansas,  amidst 
the  ruins  of  a  stately  grove  that  had  been  riven 
by  a  hurricane.  The  blast  had  torn  its  way 
through  the  forest  in  a  narrow  column,  and  its 
course  was  marked  by  enormous  trees  shivered 
and  splintered,  and  upturned,  with  their  roots 
in  the  air  ;  all  lay  in  one  direction,  like  so  many 
brittle  reeds  broken  and  trodden  down  by  the 
hunter. 

Here  was  fuel  in  abundance,  without  the  Ja* 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


bor  of  the  axe  ;  we  had  soon  immense  fires  blaz- 
ing and  sparkling  in  the  frosty  air,  and  lighting 
up  the  whole  forest ;  but,  alas  1  we  had  no  meat 
to  cook  at  them.  The  scarcity  in  the  camp  al- 
most amounted  to  famine.  Happy  was  he  who 
had  a  morsel  of  jerked  meat,  or  even  the  half- 
picked  bones  of  a  former  repast.  For  our  part, 
we  were  more  lucky  at  our  mess  than  our  neigh- 
bors ;  one  of  our  men  having  shot  a  turkey.  We 
had  no  bread  to  eat  with  it,  nor  salt  to  season  it 
withal.  It  was  simply  boiled  in  water  ;  the  latter 
was  served  up  as  soup,  and  we  were  fain  to  rub 
each  morsel  of  the  turkey  on  the  empty  salt-bag, 
in  hopes  some  saline  particle  might  remain  to  re- 
lieve its  insipidity. 

The  night  was  biting  cold  ;  the  brilliant  moon- 
light sparkled  on  the  frosty  crystals  which  cov- 
ered every  object  around  us.  The  water  froze 
beside  the  skins  on  which  we  bivouacked,  and  in 
the  morning  I  found  the  blanket  in  which  I  was 
wrapped  covered  with  a  hoar  frost ;  yet  I  had 
never  slept  more  comfortably. 

After  a  shadow  of  a  breakfast,  consisting  of 
turkey  bones  and  a  cup  of  coffee  without  sugar, 
we  decamped  at  an  early  hour  ;  for  hunger  is  a 
sharp  quickener  on  a  journey.  The  prairies  were 
all  gemmed  with  frost,  that  covered  the  tall 
weeds  and  glistened  in  the  sun.  We  saw  great 
flights  of  prairie-hens,  or  grouse,  that  hovered 
from  tree  to  tree,  or  sat  in  rows  along  the  naked 
branches,  waiting  until  the  sun  should  melt  the 
frost  from  the  weeds  and  herbage.  Our  rangers 
no  longer  despised  such  humble  game,  but  turned 
from  the  ranks  in  pursuit  of  a  prairie-hen  as  eag- 
erly as  they  formerly  would  go  in  pursuit  of  a 
deer. 

Every  one  now  pushed  forward,  anxious  to  ar- 
rive at  some  human  habitation  before  night. 
The  poor  horses  were  urged  beyond  their 
strength,  in  the  thought  of  soon  being  able  to  in- 
demnify them  for  present  toil,  by  rest  and  ample 
provender.  Still  the  distances  seemed  to  stretch 
out  more  than  ever,  and  the  blue  hills,  pointed 
out  as  landmarks  on  the  horizon,  to  recede  as  we 
advanced.  Every  step  became  a  labor  ;  every 
now  and  then  a  miserable  horse  would  give  out 
and  lie  down.  His  owner  would  raise  him  by 
main  strength,  force  him  forward  to  the  margin 
of  some  stream,  where  there  might  be  a  scanty 
border  of  herbage,  and  then  abandon  him  to  his 
fate.  Among  them  that  were  thus  left  on  the 
way,  was  one  of  the  led  horses  of  the  Count ;  a 
prime  hunter,  that  had  taken  the  lead  of  every 
thing  in  the  chase  of  the  wild  horses.  It  was  in- 
tended, however,  as  soon  as  we  should  arrive  at 
the  fort,  to  send  out  a  party  provided  with  corn, 
to  bring  in  such  of  the  horses  as  should  survive. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  we  came  upon 
Indian  tracks,  crossing  each  other  in  various 
directions,  a  proof  that  we  must  be  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  human  habitations.  At  length,  on 
passing  through  a  skirt  of  wood,  we  beheld  two 
or  three  log  houses,  sheltered  under  lofty  trees  on 
the  border  of  a  prairie,  the  habitations  of  Creek 
Indians,  who  had  small  farms  adjacent.  Had 
they  been  sumptuous  villas,  abounding  with  the 
luxuries  of  civilization,  they  could  not  have  been 
hailed  with  greater  delight. 

Some  of  the  rangers  rode  up  to  them  in  quest 
of  food  ;  the  greater  part,  however,  pushed  for- 
ward in  search  of  the  habitation  of  a  white  settler, 
which  we  were  told  was  at  no  great  distance. 
The  troop  soon  disappeared  among  the  trees,  and 
I  followed  slowly  in  their  track  ;  for  my  once  fleet 
and  generous  steed  faltered  under  me,  and  was 


just  able  to  drag  one  foot  after  the  other,  yet  I 
was  too  weary  and  exhausted  to  spare  him. 

In  this  way  we  crept  on,  until,  on  turning  a 
thick  clump  of  trees,  a  frontier  farmhouse  sud- 
denly presented  itself  to  view.  It  was  a  low  tene- 
ment of  logs,  overshadowed  by  great  forest  trees, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  a  very  region  of  Cocaigne  pre- 
vailed around  it.  Here  was  a  stable  and  barn, 
and  granaries  teeming  with  abundance,  while 
legions  of  grunting  swine,  gobbling  turkeys,  cack- 
ling hens  and  strutting  roosters,  swarmed  about 
the  farmyard. 

My  poor  jaded  and  half-famished  horse  raised 
his  head  and  pricked  up  his  cars  at  the  well- 
known  sights  and  sounds.  He  gave  a  chuckling 
inward  sound,  something  like  a  dry  laugh ; 
whisked  his  tail,  and  made  great  leeway  toward 
a  corn-crib,  filled  with  golden  ears  of  maize,  and 
it  was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  could  control 
his  course,  and  steer  him  up  to  the  door  of  the 
cabin.  A  single  glance  within  was  sufficient  to 
raise  every  gastronomic  faculty.  There  sat  the 
Captain  of  the  rangers  and  his  officers,  round  a 
three-legged  table,  crowned  by  a  broad  and 
smoking  dish  of  boiled  beef  and  turnips.  I 
sprang  off  my  horse  in  an  instant,  cast  him  loose 
to  make  his  way  to  the  corn-crib,  and  entered 
this  palace  of  plenty.  A  fat  good-humored 
negress  received  me  at  the  door.  She  was  the 
mistress  of  the  house,  the  spouse  of  the  white 
man,  who  was  absent.  I  hailed  her  as  some 
swart  fairy  of  the  wild,  that  had  suddenly  con- 
jured up  a  banquet  in  the  desert ;  and  a  banquet 
was  it  in  good  sooth.  In  a  twinkling,  she  lugged 
from  the  fire  a  huge  iron  pot,  that  might  have 
rivalled  one  of  the  famous  flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  or 
the  witches'  caldron  in  Macbeth.  Placing  a  brown 
earthen  dish  on  the  floor,  she  inclined  the  corpu- 
lent caldron  on  one  side,  and  out  leaped  sundry 
great  morsels  of  beef,  with  a  regiment  of  turnips 
tumbling  after  them,  and  a  rich  cascade  of  broth 
overflowing  the  whole.  This  she  handed  me  with 
an  ivory  smile  that  extended  from  car  to  ear  ; 
apologizing  for  our  humble  fare,  and  the  humble 
style  in  which  it  was  served  up.  Humble  fare  ! 
humble  style  !  Boiled  beef  and  turnips,  and  an 
earthen  dish  to  eat  them  from  !  To  think  of 
apologizing  for  such  a  treat  to  a  half-starved  man 
from  the  prairies ;  and  then  such  magnificent 
slices  of  bread  and  butter  !  Head  of  Apicius, 
what  a  banquet ! 

"  The  rage  of  hunger"  being  appeased,  I  be- 
gan to  think  of  my  horse.  He,  however,  like  an 
old  campaigner,  had  taken  good  care  of  himself. 
I  found  him  paying  assiduous  attention  to  the 
crib  of  Indian  corn,  and  dexterously  drawing  forth 
and  munching  the  ears  that  protruded  between 
the  bars.  It  was  with  great  regret  that  I  inter- 
rupted his  repast,  which  he  abandoned  with  a 
heavy  sigh,  or  rather  a  rumbling  groan.  I  was 
anxious,  however,  to  rejoin  my  travelling  com- 
panions, who  had  passed  by  the  farmhouse  with- 
out stopping,  and  proceeded  to  the  banks  of  the 
Arkansas ;  being  in  hopes  of  arriving  before  night 
at  the  Osage  Agency.  Leaving  the  Captain  and 
his  troop,  therefore,  amidst  the  abundance  of  the- 
farm,  where  they  had  determined  to  quarter 
themselves  for  the  night,  I  bade  adieu  to  our 
sable  hostess,  and  again  pushed  forward. 

A  ride  of  about  a  mile  brought  me  to  where  my 
comrades  were  waiting  on  the  banks  of  the  Arkan- 
sas, which  here  poured  along  between  beautiful 
forests.  A  number  of  Creek  Indians,  in  their 
brightly  colored  dresses,  looking  like  so  many 
gay  tropical  birds,  were  busy  aiding  our  men  to 


484 


A  TOUR  ON   THE   PRAIRIES. 


transport  the  baggage  across  the  river  in  a  canoe. 
While  this  was  doing,  our  horses  had  another  re- 
gale from  two  great  cribs  heaped  up  with  ears  of 
Indian  corn,  which  stood  near  the  edge  of  the 
river.  We  had  to  keep  a  check  upon  the  poor 
half-famished  animals,  lest  they  should  injure 
themselves  by  their  voracity. 

The  baggage  being  all  carried  to  the  opposite 
bank,  we  embarked  in  the  canoe,  and  swam  our 
horses  across  the  river.  I  was  fearful,  lest  in 
their  enfeebled  state,  they  should  not  be  able  to 
stem  the  current ;  but  their  banquet  of  Indian 
corn  had  already  infused  fresh  life  and  spirit  into 
them,  and  it  would  appear  as  if  they  were  cheered 
by  the  instinctive  consciousness  of  their  approach 
to  home,  where  they  would  soon  be  at  rest,  and 
in  plentiful  quarters ;  for  no  sooner  had  we 
landed  and  resumed  our  route,  than  they  set  off 
on  a  hand-gallop,  and  continued  so  for  a  great 


part  of  seven  miles,  that  we  had  to  ride  through 
the  woods. 

It  was  an  early  hour  in  the  evening  when  we 
arrived  at  the  Agency,  on  the  banks  of  the  Verdi- 
gris River,  whence  we  had  set  off  about  a  month 
before.  Here  we  passed  the  night  comfortably 
quartered ;  yet,  after  having  been  accustomed 
to  sleep  in  the  open  air,  the  confinement  of  a 
chamber  was,  in  some  respects,  irksome.  The 
atmosphere  seemed  close,  and  destitute  of  fresh- 
ness ;  and  when  I  woke  in  the  night  and  gazed 
about  me  upon  complete  darkness,  I  missed  the 
glorious  companionship  of  the  stars. 

The  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  I  again  set 
forward,  in  company  with  the  worthy  Commis- 
sioner, for  Fort  Gibson,  where  we  arrived  much 
tattered,  travel-stained,  and  weather-beaten,  but 
in  high  health  and  spirits  ; — and  thus  ended  my 
foray  into  the  Pawnee  Hunting  Grounds. 


NEWSTEAD    ABBEY. 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


HISTORICAL  NOTICE. 

BEING  about  to  give  a  few  sketches  taken  during 
a  three  weeks'  sojourn  in  the  ancestral  mansion 
of  the  late  Lord  Byron,  I  think  it  proper  to  pre- 
mise some  brief  particulars  concerning  its  his- 
tory. 

Newstead  Abbey  is  one  of  the  finest  specimens 
in  existence  of  those  quaint  and  romantic  piles, 
half  castle,  half  convent,  which  remain  as  monu- 
ments of  the  olden  times  of  England.  It  stands, 
too,  in  the  midst  of  a  legendary  neighborhood  ; 
being  in  the  heart  of  Sherwood  Forest,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  haunts  of  Robin  Hood  and  his 
band  of  outlaws,  so  famous  in  ancient  ballad  and 
nursery  tale.  It  is  true,  the  forest  scarcely  exists 
but  in  name,  and  the  tract  of  country  over  which 
it  once  extended  its  broad  solitudes  and  shades, 
is  now  an  open  and  smiling  region,  cultivated 
with  parks  and  farms,  and  enlivened  with  villages. 

Newstead,  which  probably  once  exerted  a  mo- 
nastic sway  over  this  region,  and  controlled  the 
consciences  of  the  rude  foresters,  was  originally  a 
priory,  founded  in  the  latter  part  of  the  twelfth 
century,  by  Henry  II.,  at  the  time  when  he 
sought,  by  building  of  shrines  and  convents,  and 
by  other  acts  of  external  piety,  to  expiate  the 
murder  of  Thomas  a  Becket.  The  priory  was 
dedicated  to  God  and  the  Virgin,  and  was  inhab- 
ited by  a  fraternity  of  canons  regular  of  St. 
Augustine.  This  order  was  originally  simple  and 
abstemious  in  its  mode  of  living,  and  exemplary 
in  its  conduct ;  but  it  would  seem  that  it  grad- 
ually lapsed  into  those  abuses  which  disgraced  too 
many  of  the  wealthy  monastic  establishments  ; 
for  there  are  documents  among  its  archives  which 
intimate  the  prevalence  of  gross  misrule  and  dis- 
solute sensuality  among  its  members. 

At  the  time  of  the  dissolution  of  the  convents 
during  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  Newstead  under- 
went a  sudden  reverse,  being  given,  with  the 
neighboring  manor  and  rectory  of  Papelvvick,  to 
Sir  John  Byron,  Steward  of  Manchester  and 
Rochdale,  and  Lieutenant  of  Sherwood  Forest. 
This  ancient  family  worthy  figures  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Abbey,  and  in  the  ghost  stories  with 
which  it  abounds,  under  the  quaint  and  graphic 
appellation  of"  Sir  John  Byron  the  Little,  with 
the  great  Beard."  He  converted  the  saintly  edi- 
fice into  a  castellated  dwelling,  making  it  his 


favorite  residence  and  the  seat  of  his  forest  juris- 
diction. 

The  Byron  family  being  subsequently  ennobled 
by  a  baronial  title,  and  enriched  by  various  pos- 
sessions, maintained  great  style  and  retinue  at 
Newstead.  The  proud  edifice  partook,  however, 
of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  times,  and  Lord  Byron, 
in  one  of  his  poems,  represents  it  as  alternately 
the  scene  of  lordly  wassailing  and  of  civil  war  : 

"  Hark,  how  the  hall  resounding  to  the  strain, 
Shakes  with  the  martial  music's  novel  din  ! 
The  heralds  of  a  warrior's  haughty  reign, 
High  crested  banners  wave  thy  walls  within. 

"  Of  changing  sentinels  the  distant  hum, 

The  mirth  of  feasts,  the  clang  of  burnish'd  arms, 
The  braying  trumpet,  and  the  hoarser  drum, 
Unite  in  concert  with  increased  alarms." 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  the  Abbey 
came  into  the  possession  of  another  noted  char- 
acter, who  makes  no  less  figure  in  its  shadowy 
traditions  than  Sir  John  the  Little  with  the  great 
Beard.  This  was  the  grand-uncle  of  the  poet, 
familiarly  known  among  the  gossiping  chroni- 
clers of  the  Abbey  as  "  the  Wicked  Lord  Byron." 
He  is  represented  as  a  man  of  irritable  passions 
and  vindictive  temper,  in  the  indulgence  of  which 
an  incident  occurred  which  gave  a  turn  to  his 
whole  character  and  life,  and  in  some  measure 
affected  the  fortunes  of  the  Abbey.  In  his 
neighborhood  lived  his  kinsman  and  friend,  Mr. 
Chaworth,  proprietor  of  Annesley  Hall.  Being 
together  in  London  in  1765,  in  a  chamber  of  the 
Star  and  Garter  tavern  in  Pall  Mall,  a  quarrel 
rose  between  them.  Byron  insisted  upon  settling 
it  upon  the  spot  by  single  combat.  They  fought 
without  seconds,  by  the  dim  light  of  a  candle,  and 
Mr.  Chaworth,  although  the  most  expert  swords- 
man, received  a  mortal  wound.  With  his  dying 
breath  he  related  such  particulars  of  the  contest 
as  induced  the  coroner's  jury  to  return  a  verdict 
of  wilful  murder.  Lord  Byron  was  sent  to  the 
Tower,  and  subsequently  tried  before  the  House 
of  Peers,  where  an  ultimate  verdict  was  given  of 
manslaughter. 

He  retired  after  this  to  the  Abbey,  where  he 
shut  himself  up  to  brood  over  his  disgraces  ; 
grew  gloomy,  morose,  and  fantastical,  and  in- 


486 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


dulged  in  fits  of  passion  and  caprice,  that  made 
him  the  theme  of  rural  wonder  and  scandal.     No 
tale  was  too  wild  or  too  monstrous  for  vulgar  be- 
lief.    Like  his  successor  the  poet,  he  was  accused 
of  all  kinds  of  vagaries  and  wickedness.     It  was 
said  that  he  always  went  armed,  as  if  prepared 
to  commit  murder  on  the  least  provocation.     At 
one  time,  when  a  gentleman  of  his  neighborhood 
was  to  dine  tete  a  tcte  with  him,  it  is  said  a  brace 
of  pistols  were  gravely  laid  with  the  knives  and 
forks  upon  the  table,  as  part  of  the  regular  table 
furniture,  and  implements  that  might  be  needed 
in  the  course  of  the  repast.     Another  rumor  states 
that  being  exasperated  at  his  coachman  for  dis- 
obedience to  orders,  he  shot  him  on  the  spot, 
threw  his  body  into  the  coach  where  Lady  Byron 
was  seated,  and,  mounting  the  box,  officiated  in 
his   stead.      At  another  time,   according  to  the 
same  vulgar  rumors,  he  threw  her  ladyship  into 
the  lake  in  front  of  the  Abbey,  where  she  would 
have  been  drowned,  but  for  the  timely  aid  of  the 
gardener.     These  stories  are  doubtless  exaggera- 
tions  of  trivial   incidents   which   may   have   oc- 
curred ;  but  it  is  certain  that  the  wayward  pas- 
sions of  this  unhappy  man  caused  a  separation 
from  his  wife,  and  finally  spread  a  solitude  around 
him.     Being   displeased  at  the  marriage  of  his 
son  and  heir,  he  displayed  an  inveterate  malignity 
toward  him.     Not  being  able  to  cut  ofif  his  suc- 
cession to  the  Abbey  estate,  which  descended  to 
him  by  entail,  he  endeavored  to  injure  it  as  much 
as  possible,  so  that  it  might  come  a  mere  wreck 
into  his  hands.     For  this  purpose  he  suffered  the 
Abbey  to  fall  out   of  repair,  and  everything  to 
go  to  waste  about  it,  and  cut  down  all  the  timber 
on  the  estate,  laying  low  many  a  tract  of  old 
Sherwood   Forest,  so  that  the  Abbey  lands  lay 
stripped  and  bare  of  all  their  ancient  honors.     He 
was  baffled  in  his  unnatural  revenge  by  the  pre- 
mature   death   of  his   son,    and   passed  the  re- 
mainder of  his  days  in  his  deserted  and  dilapi- 
dated   halls,    a  gloomy   misanthrope,   brooding 
amidst  the  scenes  he  had  laid  desolate. 

His  wayward  humors  drove  from  him  all  neigh- 
borly society,  and  for  a  part  of  the  time  he  was 
almost  without  domestics.  In  his  misanthropic 
mood,  when  at  variance  with  all  human  kind,  he 
took  to  feeding  crickets,  so  that  in  process  of 
time  the  Abbey  was  overrun  with  them,  and  its 
lonely  halls  made  more  lonely  at  night  by  their 
monotonous  music.  Tradition  adds  that,  at  his 
death,  the  crickets  seemed  aware  that  they  had 
lost  their  patron  and  protector,  for  they  one  and 
all  packed  up  bag  and  baggage,  and  left  the 
Abbey,  trooping  across  its  courts  and  corridors 
in  all  directions. 

The  death  of  the  "  Old  Lord,"  or  "  The  Wicked 
Lord  Byron,"  for  he  is  known  by  both  appella- 
tions, occurred  in  1798  ;  and  the  Abbey  then 
passed  into  the  possession  of  the  poet.  The  lat- 
ter was  but  eleven  years  of  age,  and  living  in 
humble  style  with  his  mother  in  Scotland.  They 
came  soon  after  to  England,  to  take  possession. 
Moore  gives  a  simple  but  striking  anecdote  of  the 
first  arrival  of  the  poet  at  the  domains  of  his  an- 
cestors. 

They  had  arrived  at  the  Newstead  toll-bar, 
and  saw  the  woods  of  the  Abbey  stretching  out  to 
receive  them,  when  Mrs.  Byron,  affecting  to  be 
ignorant  of  the  place,  asked  the  woman  of  the 
toll-house  to  whom  that  seat  belonged  ?  She  was 
told  that  the  owner  of  it,  Lord  Byron,  had  been 
some  months  dead.  "  And  who  is  the  next 
heir?"  asked  the  proud  and  happy  mother. 
"  They  say,"  answered  the  old  woman,  "it  is  a 


little  boy  who  lives  at  Aberdeen."  "  And  this  is 
he,  bless  him !  "  exclaimed  the  nurse,  no  longer 
able  to  contain  herself,  and  turning  to  kiss  with 
delight  the  young  lord  who  was  seated  on  her 
lap.* 

During  Lord  Byron's  minority,  the  Abbey  was 
let  to  Lord  Grey  de  Ruthen,  but  the  poet  visited 
it  occasionally  during  the  Harrow  vacations,  when 
he  resided  with  his  mother  at  lodgings  in  Notting- 
ham. It  was  treated  little  better  by  its  present 
tenant,  than  by  the  old  lord  who  preceded  him  ; 
so  that  when,  in  the  autumn  of  1808,  Lord  Byron 
took  up  his  abode  there,  it  was  in  a  ruinous  con- 
dition. The  following  lines  from  his  own  pen 
may  give  some  idea  of  its  condition  : 

"Through    thy  battlements,    Newstead,    the    hollow 

winds  whistle, 

Thou,  the  hall  of  my  fathers,  art  gone  to  decay  • 
In  thy  once  smiling  garden,  the  hemlock  and  thistl'e 
Have  choked  up  the  rose  which  once  bloomed  in  the 
way. 

"  Of  the  mail-covered  barons  who,  proudly,  to  battle 

Led  thy  vassals  from  Europe  to  Palestine's  plain, 
The  escutcheon  and  shield,  which  with   every  wind 

rattle, 
Are  the  only  sad  vestiges  now  that  remain."  t 

In  another  poem  he  expresses  the  melancholy 
feeling  with  which  he  took  possession  of  his  an- 
cestral mansion  : 

"  Newstead  !  what  saddening  scene  of  change  is  thine, 

Thy  yawning  arch  betokens  sure  decay  : 
The  last  and  youngest  of  a  noble  line, 

Now  holds  thy  mouldering  turrets  in  his  sway. 

"  Deserted  now,  he  scans  thy  gray-worn  towers, 

Thy  vaults,  where  dead  of  feudal  ages  sleep, 

Thy  cloisters,  pervious  to  the  wintry  showers, 

These — these  he  views,  and  views  them  but  to  weep. 

"Yet  he  prefers  thee  to  the  gilded  domes, 

Or  gewgaw  grottoes  of  the  vainly  great ; 
Yet  lingers  mid  thy  damp  and  mossy  tombs, 

Nor  breathes  a  murmur  'gainst  the  will  of  fate."  £ 

Lord  Byron  had  not  fortune  sufficient  to  put 
the  pile  in  extensive  repair,  nor  to  maintain  any- 
thing like  the  state  of  his  ancestors.  He  restored 
some  of  the  apartments,  so  as  to  furnish  his 
mother  with  a  comfortable  habitation,  and  fitted 
up  a  quaint  study  for  himself,  in  which,  among 
books  and  busts,  and  other  library  furniture, 
were  two  skulls  of  the  ancient  friars,  grinning  on 
each  side  of  an  antique  cross.  One  of  his  gay 
companions  gives  a  picture  of  Newstead  when 
thus  repaired,  and  the  picture  is  sufficiently  deso- 
late. 

"  There  are  two  tiers  of  cloisters,  with  a  va- 
riety of  cells  and  rooms  about  them,  which, 
though  not  inhabited,  nor  in  an  inhabitable  state, 
might  easily  be  made  so  ;  and  many  of  the  origi- 
nal rooms,  among  which  is  a  fine  stone  hall,  are 
still  in  use.  Of  the  Abbey  church,  one  end  only 
remains  ;  and  the  old  kitchen,  with  a  long  range 
of  apartments,  is  reduced  to  a  heap  of  rubbish. 
Leading  from  the  Abbey  to  the  modern  part  of 
the  habitation  is  a  noble  room,  seventy  feet  in 
length,  and  twenty-three  in  breadth ;  but  every 
part  of  the  house  displays  neglect  and  decay, 


*  Moore's  Life  of  Lord  Byron. 

t  Lines  on  leaving  Newstead  Abbey. 

J  Elegy  on  Newstead  Abbey. 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


487 


save  those  which  the  present  lord  has  lately  fitted 
up."* 

Even  the  repairs  thus  made  were  but  of  tran- 
sient benefit,  for  Hie  roof  being  left  in  its  dilapi- 
dated state,  the  rain  soon  penetrated  into  the 
apartments  which  Lord  Byron  had  restored  and 
decorated,  and  in  a  few  years  rendered  them  al- 
most as  desolate  as  the  rest  of  the  Abbey. 

Still  he  felt  a  pride  in  the  ruinous  old  edifice  ; 
its  very  dreary  and  dismantled  state,  addressed 
itself  to  his  poetical  imagination,  and  to  that  love 
of  the  melancholy  and  the  grand  which  is  evinced 
in  all  his  writings.  "  Come  what  may,"  said  he 
in  one  of  his  letters,  "  Newstead  and  I  stand  or 
fall  together.  I  have  now  lived  on  the  spot.  I 
have  fixed  my  heart  upon  it,  and  no  pressure, 
present  or  future,  shall  induce  me  to  barter  the 
last  vestige  of  our  inheritance.  I  have  that  pride 
within  me  which  will  enable  me  to  support  dif- 
ficulties :  could  I  obtain  in  exchange  for  New- 
stead  Abbey,  the  first  fortune  in  the  country,  I 
would  reject  the  proposition." 

His  residence  at  the  Abbey,  however,  was  fitful 
and  uncertain.  He  passed  occasional  portions 
of  time  there,  sometimes  studiously  and  alone, 
oftener  idly  and  recklessly,  and  occasionally  with 
young  and  gay  companions,  in  riot  and  revelry, 
and  the  indulgence  of  all  kinds  of  mad  caprice. 
The  Abbey  was  by  no  means  benefited  by  these 
roystering  inmates,  who  sometimes  played  off 
monkish  mummeries  about  the  cloisters,  at  other 
times  turned  the  state  chambers  into  schools  for 
boxing  and  single-stick,  and  shot  pistols  in  the 
great  hall.  The  country  people  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  as  much  puzzled  by  these  madcap 
vagaries  of  the  new  incumbent,  as  by  the  gloom- 
ier habits  of  the  "  old  lord,"  and  began  to  think 
that  madness  was  inherent  in  the  Byron  race,  or 
that  some  wayward  star  ruled  over  the  Abbey. 

It  is  needless  to  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  cir- 
cumstances which  led  his  Lordship  to  sell  his 
ancestral  estate,  notwithstanding  the  partial  pre- 
dilections and  hereditary  feeling  which  he  had 
so  eloquently  expressed.  Fortunately,  it  fell 
into  the  hands  of  a  man  who  possessed  some- 
thing of  a  poetical  temperament,  and  who  cher- 
ished an  enthusiastic  admiration  for  Lord  Byron. 
Colonel  (at  that  time  Major)  Wildman  had  been 
a  schoolmate  of  the  poet,  and  sat  with  him  on  the 
same  form  at  Harrow.  He  had  subsequently  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  the  war  of  the  Peninsula, 
and  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  and  it  was  a  great 
consolation  to  Lord  Byron,  in  parting  with  his 
family  estate,  to  know  that  it  would  be  held  by 
one  capable  of  restoring  its  faded  glories, 'and 
who  would  respect  and  preserve  all  the  monu- 
ments and  memorials  of  his  line.f 


*  Letter  of  the  late  Charles  Skinner  Mathevvs,  Esq. 

f  The  following  letter,  written  in  the  course  of  the 
transfer  of  the  estate,  has  never  been  published  : — 

VENICE,  November  18,  1818. 
MY  DEAR  WILDMAN, 

Mr.  Hanson  is  on  the  eve  of  his  return,  so  that  I 
have  only  time  to  return  a  few  inadequate  thanks  for 
your  very  kind  letter.  I  should  regret  to  trouble  you 
with  any  requests  of  mine,  in  regard  to  the  preservation 
of  any  signs  of  my  family,  which  may  still  exist  at  New- 
stead,  and  leave  everything  of  that  kind  to  your  own 
feelings,  present  or  future,  upon  the  subject.  The  por- 
trait which  you  natter  me  by  desiring,  would  not  be 
worth  to  you  your  trouble  and  expense  of  such  an  ex- 
pedition, but  you  may  rely  upon  having  the  very  first 
that  may  be  painted,  and  which  may  seem  worth  your 
acceptance. 

I  trust  that  Newstead  will,  being  yours,  remain  so, 


The  confidence  of  Lord  Byron  in  the  good 
feeling  and  good  taste  of  Colonel  Wildman  has 
been  justified  by  the  event.  Under  his  judicious 
eye  and  munificent  hand  the  venerable  and  ro- 
mantic pile  has  risen  from  its  ruins  in  all  its  old 
monastic  and  baronial  splendor,  and  additions 
have  been  made  to  it  in  perfect  conformity  of 
style.  The  groves  and  forests  have  been  re- 
planted ;  the  lakes  and  fish-ponds  cleaned  out, 
and  the  gardens  rescued  from  the  "  hemlock  and 
thistle,"  and  restored  to  their  pristine  and  digni- 
fied formality. 

The  farms  on  the  estate  have  been  put  in  com- 
plete order,  new  farm-houses  built  of  stone,  in  the 
picturesque  and  comfortable  style  of  the  old 
English  granges  ;  the  hereditary  tenants  secured 
in  their  paternal  homes,  and  treated  with  the 
most  considerate  indulgence  ;  everything,  in  a 
word,  gives  happy  indications  of  a  liberal  and 
beneficent  landlord. 

What  most,  however,  will  interest  the  visitors 
to  the  Abbey  in  favor  of  its  present  occupant,  is 
the  reverential  care  with  which  he  has  preserved 
and  renovated  every  monument  and  relic  of  the 
Byron  family,  and  every  object  in  anywise  con- 
nected with  the  memory  of  the  poet.  Eighty 
thousand  pounds  have  already  been  expended 
upon  the  venerable  pile,  yet  the  work  is  still 
going  on,  and  Newstead  promises  to  realize  the 
hope  faintly  breathed  by  the  poet  when  bidding 
it  a  melancholy  farewell — 

"  Haply  thy  sun  emerging,  yet  may  shine, 

Thee  to  irradiate  with  meridian  ray; 
Hours  splendid  as  the  past  may  still  be  thine, 
And  bless  thy  future,  as  thy  former  day." 


ARRIVAL  AT   THE  ABBEY. 

I  HAD  been  passing  a  merry  Christmas  in  the 
good  old  style  at  Barlboro'  Hall,  a  venerable 
family  mansion  in  Derbyshire,  and  set  off  to  fin- 
ish the  holidays  with  the  hospitable  proprietor  of 
Newstead  Abbey.  A  drive  of  seventeen  miles 
through  a  pleasant  country,  part  of  it  the  storied 
region  of  Sherwood  Forest,  brought  me  to  the 
gate  of  Newstead  Park.  The  aspect  of  the  park 
was  by  no  means  imposing,  the  fine  old  trees 
that  once  adorned  it  having  been  laid  low  by 
Lord  Byron's  wayward  predecessor. 

Entering  the  gate,  the  postchaise  rolled  heavily 
along  a  sandy  road,  between  naked  declivities, 
gradually  descending  into  one  of  those  gentle  and 
sheltered  valleys,  in  which  the  sleek  monks  of  old 
loved1  to  nestle  themselves.  Here  a  sweep  of  the 
road  round  an  angle  of  a  garden  wall  brought  us 
full  in  front  of  the  venerable  edifice,  embosomed 
in  the  valley,  with  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water 
spreading  out  before  it. 


and  that  it  may  see  you  as  happy,  as  I  am  very  sure 
that  you  will  make  your  dependents.  With  regard  to 
myself,  you  may  be  sure  that  whether  in  the  fourth,  or 
fifth,  or  sixth  form  at  Harrow,  or  in  the  fluctuations  of 
after  life,  I  shall  always  remember  with  regard  my  old 
schoolfellow — fellow  monitor,  and  friend,  and  recognize 
with  respect  the  gallant  soldier,  who,  with  all  the  ad- 
vantages of  fortune  and  allurements  of  youth  to  a  life 
of  pleasure,  devoted  himself  to  duties  of  a  nobler 
order,  and  will  receive  his  reward  in  the  esteem  and 
admiration  of  his  country. 

Ever  yours  most  truly  and  affectionately. 

13  Y  RON. 


488 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


The  irregular  gray  pile,  of  motley  architecture, 
answered  to  the  description  given  by  Lord  Byron  : 

"  An  old,  old  monastery  once,  and  now 
Still  older  mansion,  of  a  rich  and  rare 
Mixed  Gothic " 

One  end  was  fortified  by  a  castellated  tower, 
bespeaking  the  baronial  and  warlike  days  of  the 
edifice  ;  the  other  end  maintained  its  primitive 
monastic  character.  A  ruined  chapel,  flanked 
by  a  solemn  grove,  still  reared  its  front  entire. 
It  is  true,  the  threshold  of  the  once  frequented 
portal  was  grass-grown,  and  the  great  lancet 
window,  once  glorious  with  painted  glass,  was 
now  entwined  and  overhung  with  ivy;  but  the 
old  convent  cross  still  braved  both  time  and 
tempest  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  chapel,  and  below, 
the  blessed  effigies  of  the  Virgin  and  child, 
sculptured  in  gray  stone,  remained  uninjured  in 
their  niche,  giving  a  sanctified  aspect  to  the 
pile.* 

A  flight  of  rooks,  tenants  of  the  adjacent  grove, 
were  hovering  about  the  ruin,  and  balancing 
themselves  upon  every  airy  projection,  and  looked 
down  with  curious  eye  and  cawed  as  the  post- 
chaise  rattled  along  below. 

The  chamberlain  of  the  Abbey,  a  most  deco- 
rous personage,  dressed  in  black,  received  us  at 
the  portal.  Here,  too,  we  encountered  a  me- 
mento of  Lord  Byron,  a  great  black  and  white 
Newfoundland  dog,  that  had  accompanied  his 
remains  from  Greece.  He  was  descended  from 
the  famous  Boatswain,  and  inherited  his  generous 
qualities.  He  was  a  cherished  inmate  of  the 
Abbey,  and  honored  and  caressed  by  every  vis- 
itor. Conducted  by  the  chamberlain,  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  dog,  who  assisted  in  doing  the 
honors  of  the  house,  we  passed  through  a  long 
low  vaulted  hall,  supported  by  massive  Gothic 
arches,  and  not  a  little  resembling  the  crypt  of  a 
cathedral,  being  the  basement  story  of  the 
Abbey. 

From  this  we  ascended  a  stone  staircase,  at  the 
head  of  which  a  pair  of  folding  doors  admitted  us 
into  a  broad  corridor  that  ran  round  the  interior 
of  the  Abbey.  The  windows  of  the  corridor 
looked  into  a  quadrangular  grass-grown  court, 
forming  the  hollow  centre  of  the  pile.  In  the 
midst  of  it  rose  a  lofty  and  fantastic  fountain, 
wrought  of  the  same  gray  stone  as  the  main  edi- 
fice, and  which  has  been  well  described  by  Lord 
Byron. 

"  Amidst  the  court  .1  Gothic  fountain  play'd, 

Symmetrical,  but  deck'd  with  carvings  quaint, 
Strange  faces,  like  to  men  in  masquerade, 

And  here  perhaps  a  monster,  there  a  saint : 
The  spring  rush'd  through  grim  mouths  of  granite 

made, 

And  sparkled  into  basins,  where  it  spent 
Its  little  torrent  in  a  thousand  bubbles, 
Like  man's  vain  glory,  and  his  vainer  troubles."  f 

Around  this  quadrangle  were  low  vaulted 
cloisters,  with  Gothic  arches,  once  the  secluded 
walks  of  the  monks :  the  corridor  along  which 


-in  a  higher  niche,  alone,  but  crown'd, 


The  Virgin  Mother  of  the  God-born  child 
With  her  son  in  her  blessed  arms,  looked  round, 
Spared   by  some  chance,    when   all    beside  was 

spoil'd  : 

She  made  the  earth  below  seem  holy  ground." 
DON  JUAN,  Canto  III. 
f  DON  JUAN,  Canto  III. 


we  were  passing  was  built  above  these  cloisters, 
and  their  hollow  arches  seemed  to  reverberate 
every  footfall.  Everything  thus  far  had  a  solemn 
monastic  air  ;  but,  on  arriving  at  an  angle  of  the 
corridor,  the  eye,  glancing  along  a  shadowy  gal- 
lery, caught  a  sight  of  two  dark  figures  in  plate 
armor,  with  closed  visors,  bucklers  braced,  and 
swords  drawn,  standing  motionless  against  the 
wall.  They  seemed  two  phantoms  of  the  chival- 
rous era  of  the  Abbey. 

Here  the  chamberlain,  throwing  open  a  folding 
door,  ushered  us  at  once  into  a  spacious  and 
lofty  saloon,  which  offered  a  brilliant  contrast  to 
the  quaint  and  sombre  apartments  we  had  tra- 
versed. It  was  elegantly  furnished,  and  the  walls 
hung  with  paintings,  yet  something  of  its  original 
architecture  had  been  preserved  and  blended 
with  modern  embellishments.  There  were  the 
stone-shafted  casements  and  the  deep  bow-win- 
dow of  former  times.  The  carved  and  panelled 
wood-work  of  the  lofty  ceiling  had  likewise  been 
carefully  restored,  and  its  Gothic  and  grotesque 
devices  painted  and  gilded  in  their  ancient  style. 

Here,  too,  were  emblems  of  the  former  and 
latter  days  of  the  Abbey,  in  the  effigies  of  the 
first  and  last  of  the  Byron  line  that  held  sway 
over  its  destinies.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  saloon, 
above  the  door,  the  dark  Gothic  portrait  of"  Sir 
John  Byron  the  Little  with  the  great  Beard," 
looked  grimly  down  from  his  canvas,  while,  at 
the  opposite  end,  a  white  marble  bust  of  the  ge- 
nius loci,  the  noble  poet,  shone  conspicuously 
from  its  pedestal. 

The  whole  air  and  style  of  the  apartment  par- 
took more  of  the  palace  than  the  monastery,  and 
its  windows  looked  forth  on  a  suitable  prospect, 
composed  of  beautiful  groves,  smooth  verdant 
lawns,  and  silver  sheets  of  water.  Below  the 
windows  was  a  small  flower-garden,  inclosed  by 
stone  balustrades,  on  which  were  stately  pea- 
cocks, sunning  themselves  and  displaying  their 
plumage.  About  the  grass-plots  in  front,  were 
gay  cock  pheasants,  and  plump  partridges,  and 
nimble-footed  water  hejns,  feeding  almost  in  per- 
fect security. 

Such  was  the  medley  of  objects  presented  to 
the  eye  on  first  visiting  the  Abbey,  and  I  found 
the  interior  fully  to  answer  the  description  of  the 
poet — 

"  The  mansion's  self  was  vast  and  venerable, 
With  more  of  the  monastic  than  has  been 

Elsewhere  preserved ;  the  cloisters  still  were  stable, 
The  cells,  too,  and  refectory,  I  ween  ; 

An  exquisite  small  chapel  had  been  able, 
Still  unirnpair'd,  to  decorate  the  scene  ; 

The  rest  had  been  reformed,  replaced,  or  sunk, 

And  spoke  more  of  the  friar  than  the  monk. 

"  Huge  halls,  long  galleries,  spacious  chambers,  joined 
By  no  quite  lawful  marriage  of  the  arts, 

Might  shock  a  connoisseur  ;  but  when  combined 
Formed  a  whole,  which,  irregular  in  parts, 

Yet  left  a  grand  impression  on  the  mind, 

At  least  of  those  whose  eyes  were  in  their  hearts." 

It  is  not  my  intention  to  lay  open  the  scenes 
of  domestic  life  at  the  Abbey,  nor  to  describe 
the  festivities  of  which  I  was  a  partaker  during 
my  sojourn  within  its  hospitable  walls.  I  wish 
merely  to  present  a  picture  of  the  edifice  itself, 
and  of  those  personages  and  circumstances  about 
it,  connected  with  the  memory  of  Byron. 

I  forbear,  therefore,  to  d we'll  on  my  reception 
by  my  excellent  and  amiable  host  and  hostess, 
or  to  make  my  reader  acquainted  with  the  elegant 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


489 


inmates  of  the  mansion  that  I  met  in  the  saloon ; 
and  I  shall  pass  on  at  once  with  him  to  the  cham- 
ber allotted  me,  and  to  which  I  was  most  re- 
spectfully conducted  by  the  chamberlain. 

It  was  one  of  a  magnificent  suite  of  rooms,  ex- 
tending between  the  court  of  the  cloisters  and 
the  Abbey  garden,  the  windows  looking  into  the 
latter.  The  whole  suite  formed  the  ancient  state 
apartment,  and  had  fallen  into  decay  during  the 
neglected  days  of  the  Abbey,  so  as  to  be  in  a 
ruinous  condition  in  the  time  of  Lord  Byron.  It 
had  since  been  restored  to  its  ancient  splendor, 
of  which  my  chamber  may  be  cited  as  a  speci- 
men. It  was  lofty  and  well  proportioned;  the 
lower  part  of  the  walls  was  panelled  with  ancient 
oak,  the  upper  part  hung  with  gobelin  tapestry, 
representing  oriental  hunting  scenes,  wherein  the 
figures  were  of  the  size  of  life,  and  of  great  viva- 
city of  attitude  and  color. 

The  furniture  was  antique,  dignified,  and  cum- 
brous. High-backed  chairs  curiously  carved,  and 
wrought  in  needlework  ;  a  massive  clothes-press 
of  dark  oak,  well  polished,  and  inlaid  with  land- 
scapes of  various  tinted  woods  ;  a  bed  of  state, 
ample  and  lofty,  so  as  only  to  be  ascended  by  a 
movable  flight  of  steps,  the  huge  posts  support- 
ing a  high  tester  with  a  tuft  of  crimson  plumes  at 
each  corner,  and  rich  curtains  of  crimson  damask 
hanging  in  broad  and  heavy  folds. 

A  venerable  mirror  of  plate  glass  stood  on  the 
toilet,  in  which  belles  of  former  centuries  may 
have  contemplated  and  decorated  their  charms. 
The  floor  of  the  chamber  was  of  tesselated  oak, 
shining  with  wax,  and  partly  covered  by  a  Turkey 
carpet.  In  the  centre  stood  a  massy  oaken  table, 
waxed  and  polished  as  smooth  as  glass,  and  fur- 
nished with  a  writing-desk  of  perfumed  rosewood. 

A  sober  light  was  admitted  into  the  room 
through  Gothic  stone-shafted  casements,  partly 
shaded  by  crimson  curtains,  and  partly  over- 
shadowed by  the  trees  of  the  garden.  This  sol- 
emnly tempered  light  added  to  the  effect  of  the 
stately  and  antiquated  interior. 

Two  portraits,  suspended  over  the  doors,  were 
in  keeping  with  the  scene.  They  were  in  ancient 
Vandyke  dresses  ;  one  was  a  cavalier,  who  may 
have  occupied  this  apartment  in  days  of  yore, 
the  other  was  a  lady  with  a  black  velvet  mask  in 
her  hand,  who  may  once  have  arrayed  herself  for 
conquest  at  the  very  mirror  I  have  described. 

The  most  curious  relic  of  old  times,  however, 
in  this  quaint  but  richly  dight  apartment,  was  a 
great  chimney-piece  of  panel-work,  carved  in 
high  relief,  with  niches  or  compartments,  each 
containing  a  human  bust,  that  protruded  almost 
entirely  from  the  wall.  Some  of  the  figures  were 
in  ancient  Gothic  garb  ;  the  most  striking  among 
them  was  a  female,  who  was  earnestly  regarded 
by  a  fierce  Saracen  from  an  adjoining  niche. 

This  panel-work  is  among  the  mysteries  of  the 
Abbey,  and  causes  as  much  wide  speculation  as 
the  Egyptian  hieroglyphics.  Some  suppose  it  to 
illustrate  an  adventure  in  the  Holy  Land,  and 
that  the  lady  in  effigy  had  been  rescued  by  some 
Crusader  of  the  family  from  the  turbaned  Turk 
who  watches  her  so  earnestly.  What  tends  to 
give  weight  to  these  suppositions  is,  that  similar 
pieces  of  panel-work  exist  in  other  parts  of  the 
Abbey,  in  all  of  which  are  to  be  seen  the  Chris- 
tian lady  and  her  Saracen  guardian  or  lover. 
At  the  bottom  of  these  sculptures  are  emblazoned 
the  armorial  bearings  of  the  Byrons. 

I  shall  not  detain  the  reader,  however,  with 
any  further  description  of  my  apartment,  or  of 
the  mysteries  connected  with  it.  As  he  is  to 


pass  some  days  with  me  at  the  Abbey,  we  shall 
have  time  to  examine  the  old  edifice  at  our  lei- 
sure, and  to  make  ourselves  acquainted,  not 
merely  with  its  interior,  but  likewise  with  its  en- 
virons. 


THE  ABBEY  GARDEN. 

THE  morning  after  my  arrival,  I  rose  at  an  early 
hour.  The  daylight  was  peering  brightly  be- 
tween the  window  curtains,  and  drawing  them, 
apart,  I  gazed  through  the  Gothic  casement  upon 
a  scene  that  accorded  in  character  with  the  inte- 
rior of  the  ancient  mansion.  It  was  the  old 
Abbey  garden,  but  altered  to  suit  the  tastes  of 
different  times  and  occupants.  In  one  direction 
were  shady  walls  and  alleys,  broad  terraces  and 
lofty  groves  ;  in  another,  beneath  a  gray  monas- 
tic-looking angle  of  the  edifice,  overrun  with  ivy 
and  surmounted  by  a  cross,  lay  a  small  French 
garden,  with  formal  flower-pots,  gravel  walks, 
and  stately  stone  balustrades. 

The  beauty  of  the  morning,  and  the  quiet  of 
the  hour,  tempted  me  to  an  early  stroll ;  for  it  is 
pleasant  to  enjoy  such  old-time  places  alone, 
when  one  may  indulge  poetical  reveries,  and  spin 
cobweb  fancies,  without  interruption.  Dressing 
myself,  therefore,  with  all  speed,  I  descended  a 
small  flight  of  steps  from  the  state  apartment  into 
the  long  corridor  over  the  cloisters,  along  which 
I  passed  to  a  door  at  the  farther  end.  Here  I 
emerged  into  the  open  air,  and,  descending  an- 
other flight  of  stone  steps,  found  myself  in  the 
centre  of  what  had  once  been  the  Abbey  chapel. 

Nothing  of  the  sacred  edifice  remained,  how- 
ever, but  the  Gothic  front,  with  its  deep  portal 
and  grand  lancet  window,  already  described. 
The  nave,  the  side  walls,  the  choir,  the  sacristy, 
all  had  disappeared.  The  open  sky  was  over  my 
head,  a  smooth  shaven  grass-plot  beneath  my 
feet.  Gravel  walks  and  shrubberies  had  suc- 
ceeded to  the  shadowy  aisles,  and  stately  trees 
to  the  clustering  columns. 

"  Where  now  the  grass  exhales  a  murky  dew, 

The  humid  pall  of  life-extinguished  clay, 
In  sainted  fame  the  sacred  fathers  grew, 

Nor  raised  their  pious  voices  but  to  pray. 
Where  now  the  bats  their  wavering  wings  extend, 

Soon  as  the  gloaming  spreads  her  warning  .shade, 
The  choir  did  oft  their  mingling  vespers  blend, 

Or  matin  orisons  to  Mary  paid." 

Instead  of  the  matin  orisons  of  the  monks, 
however,  the  ruined  walls  of  the  chapel  now  re- 
sounded to  the  cawing  of  innumerable  rooks  that 
were  fluttering  and  hovering  about  the  dark  grove 
which  they  inhabited,  and  preparing  for  their 
morning  flight. 

My  ramble  led  me  along  quiet  alleys,  bordered 
by  shrubbery,  where  the  solitary  water-hen  would 
now  and  then  scud  across  my  path,  and  take 
refuge  among  the  bushes.  From  hence  I  entered 
upon  a  broad  terraced  walk,  once  a  favorite  re- 
sort of  the  friars,  which  extended  the  whole 
length  of  the  old  Abbey  garden,  passing  along 
the  ancient  stone  wall  which  bounded  it.  In  the 
centre  of  the  garden  lay  one  of  the  monkish  fish- 
pools,  an  oblong  sheet  of  water,  deep  set  like  a 
mirror,  in  green  slopihg  banks  of  turf.  In  its 
glassy  bosom  was  reflected  the  dark  mass  of  a 
neighboring  grove,  one  of  the  most  important 
features  of  the  garden. 

This  grove  goes  by  the  sinister  name  of  '•'  the 


490 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


Devil's  Wood,"  and  enjoys  but  an  equivocal 
character  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  planted 
by  "  The  Wicked  Lord  Byron,"  during  the  early 
part  of  his  residence  at  the  Abbey,  before  his 
fatal  duel  with  Mr.  Chaworth.  Having  some- 
thing of  a  foreign  and  classical  taste,  he  set  up 
leaden  statues  of  satyrs  or  fauns  at  each  end  of 
the  grove.  The  statues,  like  everything  else 
about  the  old  Lord,  fell  under  the  suspicion  and 
obloquy  that  overshadowed  him  in  the  latter  part 
of  his  life.  The  country  people,  who  knew  noth- 
ing of  heathen  mythology  and  its  sylvan  deities, 
looked  with  horror  at  idols  invested  with  the  dia- 
bolical attributes  of  horns  and  cloven  feet.  They 
probably  supposed  them  some  object  of  secret 
worship  of  the  gloomy  and  secluded  misanthrope 
and  reputed  murderer,  and  gave  them  the  name 
of"  The  old  Lord's  Devils." 

I  penetrated  the  recesses  of  the  mystic  grove. 
There  stood  the  ancient  and  much  slandered 
statues,  overshadowed  by  tall  larches,  and  stained 
by  dank  green  mold.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  sur- 
prise that  strange  figures,  thus  behoofed  and  be- 
horned,  and  set  up  in  a  gloomy  grove,  should 
perplex  the  minds  of  the  simple  and  superstitious 
yeomanry.  There  are  many  of  the  tastes  and 
caprices  of  the  rich,  that  in  the  eyes  of  the  un- 
educated must  savor  of  insanity. 

I  was  attracted  to  this  grove,  however,  by 
memorials  of  a  more  touching  character.  It  had 
been  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  late  Lord 
Byron.  In  his  farewell  visit  to  the  Abbey,  after 
he  had  parted  with  the  possession  of  it,  he  passed 
some  time  in  this  grove,  in  company  with  his 
sister ;  and  as  a  last  memento,  engraved  their 
names  on  the  bark  of  a  tree. 

The  feelings  that  agitated  his  bosom  during 
this  farewell  visit,  when  he  beheld  round  him  ob- 
jects dear  to  his  pride,  and  dear  to  his  juvenile 
recollections,  but  of  which  the  narrowness  of  his 
fortune  would  not  permit  him  to  retain  posses- 
sion, maybe  gathered  from  a  passage  in  a  poetical 
epistle,  written  to  his  sister  in  after  years: 

"  I  did  remind  you  of  our  own  dear  lake 

By  the  old  hall,  which  may  be  mine  no  more  ; 

Leman's  is  fair  ;  but  think  not  I  forsake 
The  sweet  remembrance  of  a  dearer  shore  : 

Sad  havoc  Time  must  with  my  memory  make 
Ere  that  or  than  can  fade  these  eyes  before  ; 

Though,  like  all  things  which  I  have  loved,  they  are 

Resign' d  for  ever,  or  divided  far. 

"  I  feel  almost  at  times  as  I  have  felt 

In  happy  childhood  ;  trees,  and  flowers,  and  brooks, 
Which  do  remember  me  of  where  I  dwelt 

Ere  my  young  mind  was  sacrificed  to  books, 
Come  as  of  yore  upon  me,  and  can  melt 

My  heart  with  recognition  of  their  looks  ; 
And  even  at  moments  I  would  think  I  see 
Some  living  things  I  love — but  none  like  thee." 

I  searched  the  grove  for  some  time,  before  I 
found  the  tree  on  which  Lord  Byron  had  left  his 
frail  memorial.  It  was  an  elm  of  peculiar  form, 
having  two  trunks,  which  sprang  from  the  same 
root,  and,  after  growing  side  by  side,  mingled 
their  branches  together.  He  had  selected  it, 
doubtless,  as  emblematical  of  his  sister  and  him- 
self. The  names  of  BYRON  and  AUGUSTA  were 
still  visible.  They  had  been  deeply  cut  in  the 
bark,  but  the  natural  growth  of  the  tree  was 
gradually  rendering  them  illegible,  and  a  few 
years  hence,  strangers  will  seek  in  vain  for  this 
record  of  fraternal  affection. 

Leaving  the   grove,   I  continued  my  ramble 


along  a  spacious  terrace,  overlooking  what  had 
once  been  the  kitchen  garden  of  the  Abbey. 
Below  me  lay  the  monks'  stew,  or  fish  pond,  a 
dark  pool,  overhung  by  gloomy  cypresses,  with  a 
solitary  water-hen  swimming  about  in  it. 

A  little  farther  on,  and  the  terrace  looked  down 
upon  the  stately  scene  on  the  south  side  of  the 
Abbey  ;  the  flower  garden,  with  its  stone  balus- 
trades and  stately  peacocks,  the  lawn,  with  its 
pheasants  and  partridges,  and  the  soft  valley  of 
Newstead  beyond. 

At  a  distance,  on  the  border  of  the  lawn,  stood 
another  memento  of  Lord  Byron  ;  an  oak  planted 
by  him  in  his  boyhood,  on  his  first  visit  to  the 
Abbey.  With  a  superstitious  feeling  inherent  in 
him,  he  linked  his  own  destiny  with  that  of  the 
tree.  "As  it  fares,"  said  he,  "  so  will  fare  my 
fortunes."  Several  years  elapsed,  many  of  them 
passed  in  idleness  and  dissipation.  He  returned 
to  the  Abbey  a  youth  scarce  grown  to  manhood, 
but,  as  he  thought,  with  vices  and  follies  beyond 
his  years.  He  found  his  emblem  oak  almost 
choked  by  weeds  and  brambles,  and  took  the 
lesson  to  himself. 

"  Young  oak,  when  I  planted  thee  deep  in  the  ground, 
I  hoped  that  thy  days  would  be  longer  than  mine, 
That  thy  dark  waving  branches  would  flourish  around, 
And  ivy  thy  trunk  with  its  mantle  entwine. 

"  Such,  such  was  my  hope — when  in  infancy's  years 

On  the  land  of  my  fathers  I  reared  thee  with  pride  ; 
They  are  past,  and  I  water  thy  stem  with  my  tears — 
Thy  decay  not  the  weeds  that  surround  thee  can 
hide." 

I  leaned  over  the  stone  balustrade  of  the  ter- 
race, and  gazed  upon  the  valley  of  Newstead, 
with  its  silver  sheets  of  water  gleaming  in  the 
morning  sun.  It  was  a  sabbath  morning,  which 
always  seems  to  have  a  hallowed  influence  over 
the  landscape,  probably  from  the  quiet  of  the 
day,  and  the  cessation  of  all  kinds  of  week-day 
labor.  As  I  mused  upon  the  mild  and  beautiful 
scene,  and  the  wayward  destinies  of  the  man, 
whose  stormy  temperament  forced  him  from  this 
tranquil  paradise  to  battle  with  the  passions  and 
perils  of  the  world,  the  sweet  chime  of  bells  from 
a  village  a  few  miles  distant  came  stealing  up  the 
valley.  Every  sight  and  sound  this  morning 
seemed  calculated  to  summon  up  touching  recol- 
lections of  poor  Byron.  The  chime  was  from  the 
village  spire  of  Hucknall  Torkard,  beneath  which 
his  remains  lie  buried  ! 

1  have  since  visited  his  tomb.  It  is  in 

an  old  gray  country  church,  venerable  with  the 
lapse  of  centuries.  He  lies  buried  beneath  the 
pavement,  at  one  end  of  the  principal  aisle.  A 
light  falls  on  the  spot  through  the  stained  glass 
of  a  Gothic  window,  and  a  tablet  on  the  adjacent 
wall  announces  the  family  vault  of  the  Byrons. 
It  had  been  the  wayward  intention  of  the  poet  to 
be  entombed,  with  his  faithful  dog,  in  the  monu- 
ment erected  by  him  in  the  garden  of  Newstead 
Abbey.  His  executors  showed  better  judgment 
and  feeling,  in  consigning  his  ashes  to  the  family 
sepulchre,  to  mingle  with  those  of  his  mother  and 
his  kindred.  Here, 

"After  life's  fitful  fever,  he  sleeps  well. 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing 
Can  touch  him  further  !  " 

How  nearly  did  his  dying  hour  realize  the  wish 
made  by  him,  but  a  few  years  previously,  in  one 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


491 


of  his   fitful  moods   of  melancholy   and  misan- 
thropy : 

"  When  time,  or  soon  or  late,  shall  bring 

The  dreamless  sleep  that  lulls  the  dead, 
Oblivion  !  may  thy  languid  wing 
Wave  gently  o'er  my  dying  bed  ! 

"No  band  of  friends  or  heirs  be  there, 

To  weep  or  wish  the  coming  blow  : 
No  maiden  with  dishevelled  hair, 
To  feel,  or  feign  decorous  woe. 

"  But  silent  let  me  sink  to  earth, 

With  no  officious  mourners  near  : 
I  would  not  mar  one  hour  of  mirth, 
Nor  startle  friendship  with  a  tear." 

He  died  among  strangers,  in  a  foreign  land, 
without  a  kindred  hand  to  close  his  eyes  ;  yet  he 
did  not  die  unwept.  With  all  his  faults  and 
errors,  and  passions  and  caprices,  he  had  the  gift 
of  attaching  his  humble  dependents  warmly  to 
him.  One  of  them,  a  poor  Greek,  accompanied 
his  remains  to  England,  and  followed  them  to  the 
grave.  I  am  told  that,  during  the  ceremony,  he 
stood  holding  on  by  a  pew  in  an  agony  of  grief, 
and  when  all  was  over,  seemed  as  if  he  would 
have  gone  down  into  the  tomb  with  the  body  of 
his  master. — A  nature  that  could  inspire  such  at- 
tachments, must  have  been  generous  and  benefi- 
cent. 


PLOUGH   MONDAY. 

SHERWOOD  FOREST  is  a  region  that  still  retains 
much  of  the  quaint  customs  and  holiday  games 
of  the  olden  time.  A  day  or  two  after  my  arrival 
at  the  Abbey,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  cloisters,  I 
heard  the  sound  of  rustic  music,  and  now  and 
then  a  burst  of  merriment,  proceeding  from  the 
interior  of  the  mansion.  Presently  the  chamber- 
lain came  and  informed  me  that  a  party  of  coun- 
try lads  were  in  the  servants'  hall,  performing 
Plough  Monday  antics,  and  invited  me  to  witness 
their  mummery.  I  gladly  assented,  for  I  am 
somewhat  curious  about  these  relics  -of  popular 
usages.  The  servants'  hall  was  a  fit  place  for 
the  exhibition  of  an  old  Gothic  game.  It  was  a 
chamber  of  great  extent,  which  in  monkish  times 
had  been  the  refectory  of  the  Abbey.  A  row  of 
massive  columns  extended  lengthwise  through  the 
centre,  whence  sprung  Gothic  arches,  supporting 
the  low  vaulted  ceiling.  Here  was  a  set  of  rus- 
tics dressed  up  in  something  of  the  style  repre- 
sented in  the  books  concerning  popular  antiqui- 
ties. One  was  in  a  rough  garb  of  frieze,  with  his 
head  muffled  in  bear-skin,  and  a  bell  dangling 
behind  him,  that  jingled  at  every  movement.  He 
was  the  clown,  or  fool  of  the  party,  probably  a 
traditional  representative  of  the  ancient  satyr. 
The  rest  were  decorated  with  ribbons  and  armed 
with  wooden  swords.  The  leader  of  the  troop 
recited  the  old  ballad  of  St.  George  and  the 
Dragon,  which  had  been  current  among  the  coun- 
try people  for  ages  ;  his  companions  accompanied 
the  recitation  with  some  rude  attempt  at  acting, 
while  the  clown  cut  all  kinds  of  antics. 

To  these  succeeded  a  set  of  morris-dancers, 
gayly  dressed  up  with  ribbons  and  hawks'-bells. 
In  this  troop  we  had  Robin  Hood  and  Maid 
Marian,  the  latter  represented  by  a  smooth-faced 
boy  ;  also  Beelzebub,  equipped  with  a  broom, 
and  accompanied  by  his  wife  Bessy,  a  termagant 


old  beldame.  These  rude  pageants  are  the  "lin- 
gering remains  of  the  old  customs  of  Plough 
Monday,  when  bands  of  rustics,  fantastically 
dressed,  and  furnished  with  pipe  and  tabor, 
dragged  what  was  called  the  "  fool  plough"  from 
house  to  house,  singing  ballads  and  performing 
antics,  for  which  they  were  rewarded  with  money 
and  good  cheer. 

But  it  is  not  in  "merry  Sherwood  Forest" 
alone  that  these  remnants  of  old  times  prevail. 
They  are  to  be  met  with  in  most  of  the  counties 
north  of  the  Trent,  Avhich  classic  stream  seems 
to  be  the  boundary  line  of  primitive  customs. 
During  my  recent  Christmas  sojourn  at  Barlboro' 
Hall,  on  the  skirts  of  Derbyshire  and  Yorkshire, 
I  had  witnessed  many  of  the  rustic  festivities 
peculiar  to  that  joyous  season,  which  have  rashly 
been  pronounced  obsolete,  by  those  who  draw 
their  experience  merely  from  city  life.  I  had 
seen  the  great  Yule  log  put  on  the  fire  on  Christ- 
mas Eve,  and  the  wassail  bowl  sent  round,  brim- 
ming with  its  spicy  beverage.  I  had  heard  carols 
beneath  my  window  by  the  choristers  of  the 
neighboring  village,  who  went  their  rounds  about 
the  ancient  Hall  at  midnight,  according  to  imme- 
morial custom.  We  had  mummers  and  mimers 
too,  with  the  story  of  St.  George  and  the  Dragon, 
and  other  ballads  and  traditional  dialogues,  to- 
gether with  the  famous  old  interlude  of  the  Hobby 
Horse,  all  represented  in  the  antechamber  and 
servants'  hall  by  rustics,  who  inherited  the 
custom  and  the  poetry  from  preceding  genera- 
tions. 

The  boar's  head,  crowned  with  rosemary,  had 
taken  its  honored  station  among  the  Christmas 
cheer  ;  the  festal  board  had  been  attended  by 
glee  singers  and  minstrels  from  the  village  to 
entertain  the  company  with  hereditary  songs  and 
catches  during  their  repast  ;  and  the  old  Pyrrhic 
game  of  the  sword  dance,  handed  down  since  the 
time  of  the  Romans,  was  admirably  performed 
in  the  court-yard  of  the  mansion  by  a  band  of 
young  men,  lithe  and  supple  in  their  forms  and 
graceful  in  their  movements,  who,  I  was  told, 
went  the  rounds  of  the  villages  and  country  seats 
during  the  Christmas  holidays. 

I  specify  these  rural  pageants  and  ceremonials, 
which  I  saw  during  my  sojourn  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, because  it  has  been  deemed  that  some  of 
the  anecdotes  of  holiday  customs  given  in  my 
preceding  writings,  related  to  usages  which  have 
entirely  passed  away.  Critics  who  reside  in  cities 
have  little  idea  of  the  primitive  manners  and 
observances,  which  still  prevail  in  remote  and 
rural  neighborhoods. 

In  fact,  ia  crossing  the  Trent  one  seems  to  step 
back  into  old  times  ;  and  in  the  villages  of  Sher- 
wood Forest  we  are  in  a  black-letter  region.  The 
moss-green  cottages,  the  lowly  mansions  of  gray 
stone,  the  Gothic  crosses  at  each  end  of  the  vil- 
lages, and  the  tall  Maypole  in  the  centre,  trans- 
port us  in  imagination  to  foregone  centuries ; 
everything  has  a  quaint  and  antiquated  air. 

The  tenantry  on  the  Abbey  estate  partake  of 
this  primitive  character.  Some  of  the  families 
have  rented  farms  there  for  nearly  three  hundred 
years  ;  and,  notwithstanding  that  their  mansions 
fell  to  decay,  and  every  thing  about  them  par- 
took of  the  general  waste  and  misrule  of  the 
Byron  dynasty,  yet  nothing  could  uproot  them 
from  their  native  soil.  I  am  happy  to  say,  that 
Colonel  Wildman  has  taken  these  stanch  loyal 
families  under  his  peculiar  care.  He  has  favored 
them  in  their  rents,  repaired,  or  rather  rebuilt 
their  farm-houses,  and  has  enabled  families  that 


492 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


had  almost  sunk  into  the  class  of  mere  rustic 
laborers,  once  more  to  hold  up  their  heads  among 
the  yeomanry  of  the  land. 

I  visited  one  of  these  renovated  establishments 
that  had  but  lately  been  a  mere  ruin,  and  now 
was  a  substantial  grange.  It  was  inhabited  by  a 
young  couple.  The  good  woman  showed  every 
part  of  the  establishment  with  decent  pride,  ex- 
ulting in  its  comfort  and  respectability.  Her 
husband,  I  understood,  had  risen  in  consequence 
with  the  improvement  of  his  mansion,  and  now 
began  to  be  known  among  his  rustic  neighbors 
by  the  appellation  of  "  the  young  Squire." 


OLD  SERVANTS. 

IN  an  old,  time-worn,  and  mysterious  looking 
mansion  like  Newstead  Abbey,  and  one  so 
haunted  by  monkish,  and  feudal,  and  poetical 
associations,  it  is  a  prize  to  meet  with  some  an- 
cient crone,  who  has  passed  a  long  life  about  the 
place,  so  as  to  have  become  a  living  chronicle  of 
its  fortunes  and  vicissitudes.  Such  a  one  is 
Nanny  Smith,  a  worthy  dame,  near  seventy  years 
of  age,  who  for  a  long  time  served  as  house- 
keeper to  the  Byrons.  The  Abbey  and  its  do- 
mains comprise  her  world,  beyond  which  she 
knows  nothing,  but  within  which  she  has  ever 
conducted  herself  with  native  shrewdness  and 
old-fashioned  honesty.  When  Lord  Byron  sold 
the  Abbey  her  vocation  was  at  an  end,  still  she 
lingered  about  the  place,  having  for  it  the  local 
attachment  of  a  cat.  Abandoning  her  comforta- 
ble housekeeper's  apartment,  she  took  shelter  in 
one  of  the  "rock  houses,"  which  are  nothing 
more  than  a  little  neighborhood  of  cabins,  ex- 
cavated in  the  perpendicular  walls  of  a  stone 
quarry,  at  no  great  distance  from  the  Abbey. 
Three  cells  cut  in  the  living  rock,  formed  her 
dwelling  ;  these  she  fitted  up  humbly  but  com- 
fortably ;  her  son  William  labored  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  aided  to  support  her,  and  Nanny 
Smith  maintained  a  cheerful  aspect  and  an  in- 
dependent spirit.  One  of  her  gossips  suggested 
to  her  that  William  should  marry,  and  bring 
home  a  young  wife  to  help  her  and  take  care  of 
her.  "Nay,  nay,"  replied  Nanny,  tartly,  "I 
want  no  young  mistress  in  my  house"  So  much 
for  the  love  of  rule — poor  Nanny's  house  was  a 
hole  in  a  rock  ! 

Colonel  Wildman,  on  taking  possession  of  the 
Abbey,  found  Na'nny  Smith  thus  humbly  nestled. 
With  that  active  benevolence  which  characterizes 
him,  he  immediately  set  William  up  in  a  small 
farm  on  the  estate,  where  Nanny  Smith  has  a 
comfortable  mansion  in  her  old  days.  Her  pride 
is  roused  by  her  son's  advancement.  She  re- 
marks with  exultation  that  people  treat  William 
with  much  more  respect  now  that  he  is  a  farmer, 
than  they  did  when  he  was  a  laborer.  A  farmer 
of  the  neighborhood  has  even  endeavored  to 
make  a  match  between  him  and  his  sister,  but 
Nanny  Smith  has  grown  fastidious,  and  inter- 
fered. The  girl,  she  said,  was  too  old  for  her 
son,  besides,  she  did  not  see  that  he  was  in  any 
need  of  a  wife. 

"  No,"  said  William,  "  I  ha'  no  great  mind  to 
marry  the  wench  :  but  if  the  Colonel  and  his 
lady  wish  it,  I  am  willing.  They  have  been  so 
kind  to  me  that  I  should  think  it  my  duty  to 
please  them."  The  Colonel  and  his  lady,  how- 
ever, have  not  thought  proper  to  put  honest 
William's  gratitude  to  so  severe  a  test. 


Another  worthy  whom  Colonel  Wildman  found 
vegetating  upon  the  place,  and  who  had  lived 
there  for  at  least  sixty  years,  was  old  Joe  Murray. 
He  had  come  there  when  a  mere  boy  in  the  train 
of  the  "old  lord,"  about  the  middle  of  the  last 
century,  and  had  continued  with  him  until  his 
death.  Having  been  a  cabin  boy  when  very 
young,  Joe  always  fancied  himself  a  bit  of  a 
sailor,  and  had  charge  of  all  the  pleasure-boats 
on  the  lake,  though  he  afterward  rose  to  the  dig- 
nity of  butler.  In  the  latter  days  of  the  old 
Lord  Byron,  when  he  shut  himself  up  from  all 
the  world,  Joe  Murray  was  the  only  servant  re- 
tained by  him,  excepting  his  housekeeper,  Betty 
Hardstaff,  who  was  reputed  to  have  an  undue 
sway  over  him,  and  was  derisively  called  Lady 
Betty  among  the  country  folk. 

When  the  Abbey  came  into  the  possession  of 
the  late  Lord  Byron,  Joe  Murray  accompanied  it 
as  a  fixture.  He  was  reinstated  as  butler  in  the 
Abbey,  and  high  admiral  on  the  lake,  and  his 
sturdy  honest  mastiff  qualities  won  so  upon  Lord 
Byron  as  even  to  rival  his  Newfoundland  dog  in 
his  affections.  Often  when  dining,  he  would  pour 
out  a  bumper  of  choice  Madeira,  and  hand  it  to 
Joe  as  he  stood  behind  his  chair.  In  fact,  when 
he  built  the  monumental  tomb  which  stands  in 
the  Abbey  garden,  he  intended  it  for  himself, 
Joe  Murray,  and  the  dog.  The  two  latter  were 
to  lie  on  each  side  of  him.  Boatswain  died  not 
long  afterward,  and  was  regularly  interred,  and 
the  well-known  epitaph  inscribed  on  one  side  of 
the  monument.  Lord  Byron  departed  for  Greece; 
during  his  absence,  a  gentleman  to  whom  Joe 
Murray  was  showing  the  tomb,  observed,  "  Well, 
old  boy,  you  will  take  your  place  here  some 
twenty  years  hence." 

"  I  don't  know  that,  sir,"  growled  Joe,  in  re- 
ply, "  if  I  was  sure  his  Lordship  would  come 
here,  I  should  like  it  well  enough,  but  I  should 
not  like  to  lie  alone  with  the  dog." 

Joe  Murray  was  always  extremely  neat  in  his 
dress,  and  attentive  to  his  person,  and  made  a 
most  respectable  appearance.  A  portrait  of  him 
still  hangs  in  the  Abbey,  representing  him  a  hale 
fresh-looking  fellow,  in  a  flaxen  wig,  a  blue  coat 
and  buff  waistcoat,  with  a  pipe  in  his  hand.  He 
discharged  all  the  duties  of  his  station  with  great 
fidelity,  unquestionable  honesty,  and  much  out- 
ward decorum,  but,  if  we  may  believe  his  con- 
temporary, Nanny  Smith,  who,  as  housekeeper, 
shared  the  sway  of  the  household  with  him,  he 
was  very  lax  in  his  minor  morals,  and  used  to 
sing  loose  and  profane  songs  as  he  presided  at 
the  table  in  the  servants'  hall,  or  sat  taking  his 
ale  and  smoking  his  pipe  by  the  evening  fire. 
Joe  had  evidently  derived  his  convivial  notions 
from  the  race  of  English  country  squires  who 
flourished  in  the  days  of  his  juvenility.  Nanny 
Smith  was  scandalized  at  his  ribald  songs,  but 
being  above  harm  herself,  endured  them  in  si- 
lence. At  length,  on  his  singing  them  before  a 
young  girl  of  sixteen,  she  could  contain  herself 
no  longer,  but  read  him  a  lecture  that  made  his 
ears  ring,  and  then  flounced  off  to  bed.  The  lec- 
ture seems,  by  her  account,  to  have  staggered 
Joe,  for  he  told  her  the  next  morning  that  he  had 
had  a  terrible  dream  in  the  night.  An  Evangel- 
ist stood  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  with  a  great  Dutch 
Bible,  which  he  held  with  the  printed  part  to- 
ward him,  and  after  a  while  pushed  it  in  his  face. 
Nanny  Smith  undertook  to  interpret  the  vision, 
and  read  from  it  such  a  homily,  and  deduced  such 
awful  warnings,  that  Joe  became  quite  serious, 
left  off  singing,  and  took  to  reading  good  books 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


493 


for  a  month  ;  but  after  that,  continued  Nanny, 
he  relapsed  and  became  as  bad  as  ever,  and  con- 
tinued to  sing  loose  and  profane  songs  to  his 
dying  day. 

When  Colonel  Wildman  became  proprietor  of 
the  Abbey  he  found  Joe  Murray  flourishing  in  a 
green  old  age,  though  upward  of  fourscore,  and 
continued  him  in  his  station  as  butler.  The  old 
man  was  rejoiced  at  the  extensive  repairs  that 
were  immediately  commenced,  and  anticipated 
with  pride  the  day  when  the  Abbey  should  rise 
out  of  its  ruins  with  renovated  splendor,  its  gates 
be  thronged  with  trains  and  equipages,  and  its 
halls  once  more  echo  to  the  sound  of  joyous 
hospitality. 

What  chiefly,  however,  concerned  Joe's  pride 
and  ambition,  was  a  plan  of  the  Colonel's  to  have 
the  ancient  refectory  of  the  convent,  a  great 
vaulted  room,  supported  by  Gothic  columns,  con- 
verted into  a  servants'  hall.  Here  Joe  looked  for- 
ward to  rule  the  roast  at  the  head  of  the  servants' 
table,  and  to  make  the  Gothic  arches  ring  with 
those  hunting  and  hard-drinking  ditties  which 
were  the  horror  of  the  discreet  Nanny  Smith. 
Time,  however,  was  fast  wearing  away  with  him, 
and  his  great  fear  was  that  the  hall  would  not  be 
completed  in  his  day.  In  his  eagerness  to  hasten 
the  repairs,  he  used  to  get  up  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  ring  up  the  workmen.  Notwithstanding 
his  great  age,  also,  he  would  turn  out  half-dressed 
in  cold  weather  to  cut  sticks  for  the  fire.  Colonel 
Wildman  kindly  remonstrated  with  him  for  thus 
risking  his  health,  as  others  would  do  the  work 
for  him. 

"  Lord,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  hale  old  fellow, 
"  it's  my  air-bath,  I'm  all  the  better  for  it." 

Unluckily,  as  he  was  thus  employed  one  morn- 
ing a  splinter  flew  up  and  wounded  one  of  his 
eyes.  An  inflammation  took  place  ;  he  lost  the 
sight  of  that  eye,  and  subsequently  of  the  other. 
Poor  Joe  gradually  pined  away,  and  grew  melan- 
choly. Colonel  Wildman  kindly  tried  to  cheer 
him  up — "  Come,  come,  old  boy,"  cried  he,  "be 
of  good  heart,  you  will  yet  take  your  place  in  the 
servants'  hall." 

"  Nay,  nay,  sir,"  replied  he,  "  I  did  hope  once 
that  I  should  live  to  see  it — I  looked  forward  to 
it  with  pride,  I  confess,  but  it  is  all  over  with  me 
now — I  shall  soon  go  home  !  " 

He  died  shortly  afterward,  at  the  advanced 
age  of  eighty-six,  seventy  of  which  had  been 
passed  as  an  honest  and  faithful  servant  at  the 
Abbey.  Colonel  Wildman  had  him  decently  in- 
terred in  the  church  of  Hucknall  Torkard,  near 
the  vault  of  Lord  Byron. 


SUPERSTITIONS  OF  THE  ABBEY. 

THE  anecdotes  I  had  heard  of  the  quondam 
housekeeper  of  Lord  Byron,  rendered  me  desir- 
ous of  paying  her  a  visit.  I  rode  in  company 
with  Colonel  Wildman,  therefore,  to  the  cottage 
of  her  son  William,  where  she  resides,  and  found 
her  seated  by  her  fireside,  with  a  favorite  cat 
perched  upon  her  shoulder  and  purring  in  her 
ear.  Nanny  Smith  is  a  large,  good-looking  wo- 
man, a  specimen  of  the  old-fashioned  country 
housewife,  combining  antiquated  notions  and 
prejudices,  and  very  limited  information,  with 
natural  good  sense.  She  loves  to  gossip  about 
the  Abbey  and  Lord  Byron,  and  was  soon  drawn 
into  a  course  of  anecdotes,  though  mostly  of  an 


humble  kind,  such  as  suited  the  meridian  of  the 
housekeeper's  room  and  servants'  hall.  She 
seemed  to  entertain  a  kind  recollection,  of  Lord 
Byron,  though  she  had  evidently  been  much  per- 
plexed by  some  of  his  vagaries  ;  and  especially 
by  the  means  he  adopted  to  counteract  his  ten- 
dency to  corpulency.  He  used  various  modes  to 
sweat  himself  down  ;  sometimes  he  would  lie  for 
a  long  time  in  a  warm  bath,  sometimes  he  would 
walk  up  the  hills  in  the  park,  wrapped  up  and 
loaded  with  great  coats  ;  "a  sad  toil  for  the  poor 
youth,"  added  Nanny,  "  he  being  so  lame." 

His  meals  were  scanty  and  irregular,  consisting 
of  dishes  which  Nanny  seemed  to  hold  in  great 
contempt,  such  as  pillau,  maccaroni,  and  light 
puddings. 

She  contradicted  the  report  of  the  licentious 
life  which  he  was  reported  to  lead  at  the  Abbey, 
and  of  the  paramours  said  to  have  been  brought 
with  him  from  London.  "A  great  part  of  his 
time  used  to  be  passed  lying  on  a  sofa  reading. 
Sometimes  he  had  young  gentlemen  of  his  ac- 
quaintance with  him,  and  they  played  some  mad 
pranks  ;  but  nothing  but  what  young  gentlemen 
may  do,  and  no  harm  done." 

"  Once,  it  is  true,"  she  added,  "he  had  with 
him  a  beautiful  boy  as  a  page,  which  the  house- 
maids said  was  a  girl.  For  my  part,  I  know 
nothing  about  it.  Poor  soul,  he  was  so  lame  he 
could  not  go  out  much  with  the  men  ;  all  the 
comfort  he  had  was  to  be  a  little  with  the  lasses. 
The  housemaids,  however,  were  very  jealous  ; 
one  of  them,  in  particular,  took  the  matter  in 
great  dudgeon.  Her  name  was  Lucy  ;  she  was  a 
great  favorite  with  Lord  Byron,  and  had  been 
much  noticed  by  him,  and  began  to  have  high 
notions.  She  had  her  fortune  told  by  a  man  who 
squinted,  to  whom  she  gave  two-and-sixpencc. 
He  told  her  to  hold  up  her  head  and  look  high, 
for  she  would  come  to  great  things.  Upon  this," 
added  Nanny,  "  the  poor  thing  dreamt  of  nothing 
less  than  becoming  a  lady,  and  mistress  of  the 
Abbey ;  and  promised  me,  if  such  luck  should 
happen  to  her,  she  would  be  a  good  friend  to  me. 
Ah  well-a-day  !  Lucy  never  had  the  fine  fortune 
she  dreamt  of;  but  she  had  better  than  I  thought 
for ;  she  is  now  married,  and  keeps  a  public 
house  at  Warwick." 

Finding  that  we  listened  to  her  with  great  at- 
tention, Nanny  Smith  went  on  with  her  gossiping. 
"  One  time,"  said  she,  "  Lord  Byron  took  a  no- 
tion that  there  was  a  deal  of  money  buried  about 
the  Abbey  by  the  monks  in  old  times,  and  noth- 
ing would  serve  him  but  he  must  have  the  flag- 
ging taken  up  in  the  cloisters  ;  and  they  digged 
and  digged,  but  found  nothing  but  stone  coffins 
full  of  bones.  Then  he  must  needs  have  one  of 
the  coffins  put  in  one  end  of  the  great  hall,  so 
that  the  servants  were  afraid  to  go  there  of  nights. 
Several  of  the  skulls  were  cleaned  and  put  in 
frames  in  his  room.  I  used  to  have  to  go  into 
the  room  at  night  to  shut  the  windows,  and  if  I 
glanced  an  eye  at  them,  they  all  seemed  to  grin  ; 
which  I  believe  skulls  always  do.  I  can't  say 
but  I  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  room. 

"  There  was  at  one  time  (and  for  that  matter 
there  is  still)  a  good  deal  said  about  ghosts 
haunting  about  the  Abbey.  The  keeper's  wife 
said  she  saw  two  standing  in  a  dark  part  of  the 
cloisters  just  opposite  the  chapel,  and  one  in  the 
garden  by  the  lord's  well.  Then  there  was  a 
young  lady,  a  cousin  of  Lord  Byron,  who  was 
staying  in  the  Abbey  and  slept  in  the  room  next 
the  clock ;  and  she  told  me  that  one  night  when 
she  was  lying  in  bed,  she  saw  a  lady  in  white 


494 


.NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


come  out  of  the  wall  on  one  side  of  the  room,  and 
go  into  the  wall  on  the  opposite  side. 

"Lord  Byron  one  day  said  to  me,  'Nanny, 
what  nonsense  they  tell  about  ghosts,  as  if  there 
ever  were  any  such  things.  I  have  never  seen 
any  thing  of  the  kind  about  the  Abbey,  and  I 
warrant  you  have  not.'  This  was  all  done,  do 
you  see,  to  draw  me  out;  but  I  said  nothing,  but 
shook  my  head.  However,  they  say  his  lordship 
did  once  see  something.  It  was  in  the  great  hall 
— something  all  black  and  hairy,  he  said  it  was 
the  devil. 

"  For  my  part,"  continued  Nanny  Smith,  " 
never  saw  anything  of  the  kind — but  I  heard 
something  once.  I  was  one  evening  scrubbing 
the  floor  of  the  little  dining-room  at  the  end  of 
the  long  gallery ;  it  was  after  dark  ;  I  expected 
every  moment  to  be  called  to  tea,  but  wished  to 
finish  what  I  was  about.  All  at  once  I  heard 
heavy  footsteps  in  the  great  hall.  They  sounded 
like  the  tramp  of  a  horse.  I  took  the  light  and 
went  to  see  what  it  was.  I  heard  the  steps  come 
from  the  lower  end  of  the  hall  to  the  fireplace  in 
the  centre,  where  they  stopped  ;  but  I  could  see 
nothing.  I  returned  to  my  work,  and  in  a  little 
time  heard  the  same  noise  again.  I  went  again 
with  the  light ;  the  footsteps  stopped  by  the  fire- 
place as  before  ;  still  I  could  see  nothing.  I  re- 
turned to  my  work,  when  I  heard  the  steps  for  a 
third  time.  I  then  went  into  the  hall  without  a 
light,  but  they  stopped  just  the  same,  by  the  fire- 
place, half  way  up  the  hall.  I  thought  this  rather 
odd,  but  returned  to  my  work.  When  it  was  fin- 
ished, I  took  the  light  and  went  through  the  hall, 
as  that  was  my  way  to  the  kitchen.  I  heard  no 
more  footsteps,  and  thought  no  more  of  the  mat- 
ter, when,  on  comingto  the  lower  end  of  the  hall, 
I  found  the  door  locked,  and  then,  on  one  side  of 
the  door,  I  saw  the  stone  coffin  with  the  skull  and 
bone#  that  had  been  digged  up  in  the  cloisters." 

Here  Nanny  paused.  I  asked  her  if  she  be- 
lieved that  the  mysterious  footsteps  had  any  con- 
nection with  the  skeleton  in  the  coffin  ;  but  she 
shook  her  head,  and  would  not  commit  herself. 
We  took  our  leave  of  the  good  old  dame  shortly 
after,  and  the  story  she  had  related  gave  subject 
for  conversation  on  our  ride  homeward.  It  was 
evident  she  had  spoken  the  truth  as  to  what  she 
had  heard,  but  had  been  deceived  by  some  pecu- 
liar effect  of  sound.  Noises  are  propagated  about 
a  huge  irregular  edifice  of  the  kind  in  a  very  de- 
ceptive manner  ;  footsteps  are  prolonged  and  re- 
verberated by  the  vaulted  cloisters  and  echoing 
halls ;  the  creaking  and  slamming  of  distant 
gates,  the  rushing  of  the  blast  through  the  groves 
and  among  the  ruined  arches  of  the  chapel,  have 
all  a  strangely  delusive  effect  at  night. 

Colonel  Wildman  gave  an  instance  of  the  kind 
from  his  own  experience.  Npt  long  after  he  had 
taken  up  his  residence  at  the  Abbey,  he  heard 
one  moonlight  night  a  noise  as  if  a  carriage  was 
passing  at  a  distance.  He  opened  the  window 
and  leaned  out.  It  then  seemed  as  if  the  great 
iron  roller  was  dragged  along  the  gravel  walks 
and  terrace,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen. 
When  he  saw  the  gardener  on  the  following 
morning,  he  questioned  him  about  working  so 
late  at  night.  The  gardener  declared  that  no 
one  had  been  at  work,  and  the  roller  was  chained 
up.  He  was  sent  to  examine  it,  and  came  back 
with  a  countenance  full  of  surprise.  The  roller 
had  been  moved  in  the  night,  but  he  declared  no 
mortal  hand  could  have  moved  it.  "  Well,"  re- 
plied the  Colonel,  good-humoredly,  "  I  am  glad 
to  find  I  have  a  brownie  to  work  for  me." 


Lord  Byron  did  much  to  foster  and  give  cur- 
rency to  the  superstitious  tales  connected  with 
the  Abbey,  by  believing,  or  pretending  to  believe 
in  them.  Many  have  supposed  that  his  mind  was 
really  tinged  with  superstition,  and  that  this  in- 
nate infirmity  was  increased  by  passing  much  of 
his  time  in  a  lonely  way,  about  the  empty  halls 
and  cloisters  of  the  Abbey,  then  in  a  ruinous 
melancholy  state,  and  brooding  over  the  skulls 
and  effigies  of  its  former  inmates.  I  should 
rather  think  that  he  found  poetical  enjoyment  in 
these  supernatural  themes,  and  that  his  imagina- 
tion delighted  to  people  this  gloomy  and  roman- 
tic pile  with  all  kinds  of  shadowy  inhabitants. 
Certain  it  is,  the  aspect  of  the  mansion  under  the 
varying  influence  of  twilight  and  moonlight,  and 
cloud  and  sunshine  operating  upon  its  halls,  and 
galleries,  and  monkish  cloisters,  is  enough  to 
breed  all  kinds  of  fancies  in  the  minds  of  its  in- 
mates, especially  if  poetically  or  superstitiously 
inclined. 

I  have  already  mentioned  some  of  the  fabled 
visitants  of  the  Abbey.  The  goblin  friar,  how- 
ever, is  the  one  to  whom  Lord  Byron  has  given 
the  greatest  importance.  It  walked  the  cloisters 
by  night,  and  sometimes  glimpses  of  it  were  seen 
in  other  parts  of  the  Abbey.  Its  appearance  was 
said  to  portend  some  impending  evil  to  the  mas- 
ter of  the  mansion.  Lord  Byron  pretended  to 
have  seen  it  about  a  month  before  he  contracted 
his  ill-starred  marriage  with  Miss  Milbanke. 

He  has  embodied  this  tradition  in  the  following 
ballad,  in  which  he  represents  the  friar  as  one  of 
the  ancient  inmates  of  the  Abbey,  maintaining 
by  night  a  kind  of  spectral  possession  of  it,  in 
right  of  the  fraternity.  Other  traditions,  how- 
ever, represent  him  as  one  of  the  friars  doomed 
to  wander  about  the  place  in  atonement  for  his 
crimes.  But  to  the  ballad — 

"  Beware  !  beware  !  of  the  Black  Friar, 

Who  sitteth  by  Norman  stone. 
For  he  mutters  his  prayer  in  the  midnight  air, 

And  his  mass  of  the  days  that  are  gone. 
When  the  Lord  of  the  Hill.  Amundeville, 

Made  Norman  Church  his  prey, 
And  expell'd  the  friars,  one  friar  still 

Would  not  be  driven  away. 

"Though  he  came  in   his  might,  with    King    Henry's 

right, 

To  turn  church  lands  to  lay, 
With  sword  in  hand,  and  torch  to  light 

Their  walls,  if  they  said  nay, 
A  monk  remain'd,  unchased,  unchain'd, 

And  he  did  not  seem  form'd  of  clay, 
For  he's  seen  in  the  porch,    and   he's  seen   in   the 

church, 
Though  he  is  not  seen  by  day. 

"  And  whether  for  good,  or  whether  for  ill, 

It  is  not  mine  to  say  ; 
But  still  to  the  house  of  Amundeville 

He  abideth  night  and  day. 
By  the  marriage  bed  of  their  lords,  'tis  said, 

He  flits  on  the  bridal  eve  ; 
And  'tis  held  as  faith,  to  their  bed  of  death, 

He  comes — but  not  to  grieve. 

"  When  an  heir  is  born,  he  is  heard  to  mourn, 

And  when  aught  is  to  befall 
That  ancient  line,  in  the  pale  moonshine 

He  walks  from  hall  to  hall. 
His  form  you  may  trace,  but  not  his  face, 

'Tis  shadow'd  by  his  cowl ; 
But  his  eyes  may  be  seen  from  the  folds  between, 

And  they  seem  of  a  parted  soul. 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


'495 


*  But  beware  !  beware  of  the  Black  Friar, 

He  still  retains  his  sway, 
For  he  is  yet  the  church's  heir, 

Whoever  may  be  the  lay. 
Amundeville  is  lord  by  day, 

But  the  monk  is  lord  by  night, 
Nor  wine  nor  wassail  could  raise  a  vassal 

To  question  that  friar's  right. 

"  Say  nought  to  him  as  he  walks  the  hall, 

And  he'll  say  nought  to  you; 
He  sweeps  along  in  his  dusky  pall, 

As  o'er  the  grass  the  dew. 
Then  gramercy  !  for  the  Black  Friar ; 

Heaven  sain  him  !  fair  or  foul, 
And  whatsoe'er  may  be  his  prayer 

Let  ours  be  for  his  soul." 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  goblin  friar,  which, 
partly  through  old  tradition,  and  partly  through 
the  influence  of  Lord  Byron's  rhymes,  has  be- 
come completely  established  in  the  Abbey,  and 
threatens  to  hold  possession  so  long  as  the  old 
edifice  shall  endure.  Various  visitors  have  either 
fancied,  or  pretended  to  have  seen  him,  and  a 
cousin  of  Lord  Byron,  Miss  Sally  Parkins,  is  even 
said  to  have  made  a  sketch  of  him  from  mem- 
ory. As  to  the  servants  at  the  Abbey,  they  have 
become  possessed  with  all  kinds  of  superstitious 
fancies.  The  long  corridors  and  Gothic  halls, 
with  their  ancient  portraits  and  dark  figures  in 
armor,  are  all  haunted  regions  to  them  ;  they 
even  fear  to  sleep  alone,  and  will  scarce  venture 
at  night  on  any  distant  errand  about  the  Abbey 
unless  they  go  in  couples. 

Even  the  magnificent  chamber  in  which  I  was 
lodged  was  subject  to  the  supernatural  influences 
which  reigned  over  the  Abbey,  and  was  said  to 
be  haunted  by  "  Sir  John  Byron  the  Little  with 
the  great  Beard."  The  ancient  black-looking 
portrait  of  this  family  worthy,  which  hangs  over 
the  door  of  the  great  saloon,  was  said  to  descend 
occasionally  at  midnight  from  the  frame,  and 
walk  the  rounds  of  the  state  apartments.  Nay, 
his  visitations  were  not  confined  to  the  night,  for 
a  young  lady,  on  a  visit  to  the  Abbey  some  years 
since,  declared  that,  on  passing  in  broad  day  by 
the  door  of  the  identical  chamber  I  have  de,- 
scribed,  which  stood  partly  open,  she  saw  Sir 
John  Byron  the  Little  seated  by  the  fireplace, 
reading  out  of  a  great  black-letter  book.  From 
this  circumstance  some  have  been  led  to  suppose 
that  the  story  of  Sir  John  Byron  may  be  in  some 
measure  connected  with  the  mysterious  sculp- 
tures of  the  chimney-piece  already  mentioned  ; 
but  this  has  no  countenance  from  the  most  authen- 
tic antiquarians  of  the  Abbey. 

For  my  own  part,  the  moment  I  learned  the 
wonderful  stories  and  strange  suppositions  con- 
nected with  my  apartment,  it  became  an  imagi- 
nary realm  to  me.  As  I  lay  in  bed  at  night  and 
gazed  at  tke  mysterious  panel-work,  where  Gothic 
knight,  and  Christian  dame,  and  Paynim  lover 
gazed  upon  me  in  effigy,  I  used  to  weave  a  thou- 
sand fancies  concerning  them.  The  great  figures 
in  the  tapestry,  also,  were  almost  animated  by 
the  workings  of  my  imagination,  and  the  Van- 
dyke portraits  of  the  cavalier  and  lady  that  looked 
down  with  pale  aspects  from  the  wall,  had  al- 
most a  spectral  effect,  from  their  immovable 
gaze  and  silent  companionship — 

*'  For  by  dim  lights  the  portraits  of  the  dead 
Have  something  ghastly,  desolate,  and  dread. 

Their  buried  looks  still  wave 

Along  the  canvas  ;  their  eyes  glance  like  dreams 
On  ours,  as  spars  within  some  dusky  cave, 

But  death  is  mingled  in  their  shadowy  beams." 


In  this  way  I  used  to  conjure  up  fictions  of  the 
brain,  and  clothe  the  objects  around  me  with 
ideal  interest  and  import,  until,  as  the  Abbey 
clock  tolled  midnight,  I  almost  looked  to  see  Sir 
John  Byron  the  Little  with  the  long  Beard  stalk 
into  the  room  with  his  book,  under  his  arm,  and 
take  his  seat  beside  the  mysterious  chimney- 
piece. 


ANNESLEY  HALL. 

AT  about  three  miles'  distance  from  Newstead 
Abbey,  and  contiguous  to  its  lands,  is  situated 
Annesley  Hall,  the  old  family  mansion  of  the 
Chaworths.  The  families,  like  the  estates,  of  the 
Byrons  and  Chaworths,  were  connected  in  former 
times,  until  the  fatal  duel  between  their  two 
representatives.  The  feud,  however,  which  pre- 
vailed for  a  time,  promised  to  be  cancelled  by 
the  attachment  of  two  youthful  hearts.  While 
Lord  Byron  was  yet  a  boy,  he  beheld  Mary  Ann 
Chaworth,  a  beautiful  girl,  and  the  sole  heiress  of 
Annesley.  With  that  susceptibility  to  female 
charms,  which  he  evinced  almost  from  childhood, 
he  became  almost  immediately  enamored  of  her. 
According  to  one  of  his  biographers,  it  would  ap- 
pear that  at  first  their  attachment  was  mutual, 
yet  clandestine.  The  father  of  Miss  Chaworth 
was  then  living,  and  may  have  retained  some- 
what of  the  family  hostility,  for  we  are  told  that 
the  interviews  of  Lord  Byron  and  the  young  lady 
were  private,  at  a  gate  which  opened  from  her 
father's  grounds  to  those  of  Newstead.  How- 
ever, they  were  so  young  at  the  time  that  these 
meetings  could  not  have  been  regarded  as  of  any 
importance  :  they  were  little  more  than  children 
in  years  ;  but,  as  Lord  Byron  says  of  himself,  his 
feelings  were  beyond  his  age. 

The  passion  thus  early  conceived  was  blown 
into  a  flame,  during  a  six  weeks'  vacation  which 
he  passed  with  his  mother  at  Nottingham.  The 
father  of  Miss  Chaworth  was  dead,  and  she  re- 
sided with  her  mother  at  the  old  Hall  of  Annesley. 
During  Byron's  minority,  the  estate  of  Newstead 
was  let  to  Lord  Grey  de  Ruthen,  but  its  youthful 
Lord  was  always  a  welcome  guest  at  the  Abbey. 
He  would  pass  days  at  a  time  there,  and  make  fre- 
quent visits  thence  to  Annesley  Hall.  His  visits 
were  encouraged  by  Miss  Chaworth's  mother  ; 
she  partook  of  none  of  the  family  feud,  and 
probably  looked  with  complacency  upon  an  at- 
tachment that  might  heal  old  differences  and 
unite  two  neighboring  estates. 

The  six  weeks'  vacation  passed  as  a  dream 
amongst  the  beautiful  flowers  of  Annesley.  Byron 
was  scarce  fifteen  years  of  age,  Mary  Chaworth 
was  two  years  older  ;  but  his  heart,  as  I  have  said, 
was  beyond  his  age,  and  his  tenderness  for  her 
was  deep  and  passionate.  These  early  loves,  like 
the  first  run  of  the  uncrushed  grape,  are  the 
sweetest  and  strongest  gushings  of  the  heart,  and 
however  they  may  be  superseded  by  other  at- 
tachments in  after  years,  the  memory  will  con- 
tinually recur  to  them,  and  fondly  dwell  upon 
their  recollections. 

His  love  for  Miss  Chaworth,  to  use  Lord  By- 
ron's own  expression,  was  "  the  romance  of  the 
most  romantic  period  of  his  life,"  and  I  think  we 
can  trace  the  effect  of  it  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  his  writings,  coming  up  every  now  and 
then,  like  some  lurking  theme  which  runs  through 
a  complicated  piece  of  music,  and  links  it  all  in  a 
pervading  chain  of  melody. 


496 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


How  tenderly  and  mournfully  does  he  recall, 
in  after  years,  the  feelings  awakened  in  his  youth- 
ful and  inexperienced  bosom  by  this  impassioned, 
yet  innocent  attachment ;  feelings,  he  says,  lost 
or  hardened  in  the  intercourse  of  life  : 

"  The  love  of  better  things  and  better  days  ; 

The  unbounded  hope,  and  heavenly  ignorance 
Of  what  is  called  the  world,  and  the  world's  ways  ; 

The  moments  when  we  gather  from  a  glance 
More  joy  than  from  all  future  pride  or  praise, 

Which*  kindle  manhood,  but  can  ne'er  entrance 
The  heart  in  an  existence  of  its  own, 
Of  which  another's  bosom  is  the  zone." 

Whether  this  love  was  really  responded  to  by 
the  object,  is  uncertain.  Byron  sometimes  speaks 
as  if  he  had  met  with  kindness  in  return,  at  other 
times  he  acknowledges  that  she  never  gave  him 
reason  to  believe  she  loved  him.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  at  first  she  experienced  some 
flutterings  of  the  heart.  She  was  of  a  susceptible 
age  ;  had  as  yet  formed  no  other  attachments  ; 
her  lover,  though  boyish  in  years,  was  a  man  in 
intellect,  a  poet  in  imagination,  and  had  a  coun- 
tenance of  remarkable  beauty. 

With  the  six  weeks'  vacation  ended  this  brief 
romance.  Byron  returned  to  school  deeply  en- 
amored, but  if  he  had  really  made  any  impres- 
sion on  Miss  Chaworth's  heart,  it  was  too  slight  to 
stand  the  test  of  absence.  She  was  at  that  age 
when  a  female  soon  changes  from  the  girl  to  a  t 
woman,  and  leaves  her  boyish  lovers  far  behind 
her.  While  Byron  was  pursuing  his.  school-boy 
studies,  «he  was  mingling  with  society,  and  met 
with  a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Musters,  re- 
markable, it  is  said,  for  manly  beauty.  A  story 
is  told  of  her  having  first  seen  him  from  the  top 
of  Annesley  Hall,  as  he  dashed  through  the  park, 
with  hound  and  horn,  taking  the  lead  of  the 
whole  field  in  a  fox  chase,  and  that  she  was  struck 
by  the  spirit  of  his  appearance,  and  his  admirable 
horsemanship.  Under  such  favorable  auspices, 
he  wooed  and  Avon  her,  and  when  Lord  Byron 
next  met  her,  he  learned  to  his  dismay  that  she 
was  the  affianced  bride  of  another. 

With  that  pride  of  spirit  which  always  distin- 
guished him,  he  controlled  his  feelings  and  main- 
tained a  serene  countenance.  He  even  affected 
to  speak  calmly  on  the  subject  of  her  approach- 
ing nuptials.  "  The  next  time  I  see  you,"  said 
he,  "  I  suppose  you  will  be  Mrs.  Chaworth"  (for 
she  was  to  retain  her  family  name).  Her  reply 
was,  "  I  hope  so." 

I  have  given  these  brief  details  preparatory  to 
a  sketch  of  a  visit  which  I  made  to  the  scene  of 
this  youthful  romance.  Annesley  Hall  I  under- 
stood was  shut  up,  neglected,  and  almost  in  a 
state  of  desolation  ;  for  Mr.  Musters  rarely 
visited  it,  residing  with  his  family  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Nottingham.  I  set  out  for  the  Hall 
on  horseback,  in  company  with  Colonel  Wildman, 
and  followed  by  the  great  Newfoundland  dog 
Boatswain.  In  the  course  of  our  ride  we  visited 
a  spot  memorable  in  the  love  story  I  have  cited. 
It  was  the  scene  of  this  parting  interview  between 
Byron  and  Miss  Chaworth,  prior  to  her  marriage. 
A  long  ridge  of  upland  advances  into  the  valley 
of  Newstead,  like  a  promontory  into  a  lake,  and 
was  formerly  crowned  by  a  beautiful  grove,  a 
landmark  to  the  neighboring  country.  The  grove 
and  promontory  are  graphically  described  by 
Lord  Byron  in  his  "  Dream,"  and  an  exquisite 
picture  given  of  himself,  and  the  lovely  object  of 
his  boyish  idolatry — 


"  I  saw  two  beings  in  the  hues  of  youth 
Standing  upon  a  hill,  a  gentle  hill, 
Green,  and  of  mild  declivity,  the  last 
As  'twere  the  cape  of  a  long  ridge  of  such, 
Save  that  there  was  no  sea  to  lave  its  base, 
But  a  most  living  landscape,  and  the  wave 
Of  woods  and  corn-fields,  and  the  abodes  of  men^ 
Scatter'd  at  intervals,  and  wreathing  smoke 
Arising  from  such  rustic  roofs  ; — the  hill 
Was  crown'd  with  a  peculiar  diadem 
Of  trees,  in  circular  array,  so  fixed, 
Not  by  the  sport  of  nature,  but  of  man  : 
These  two,  a  maiden  and  a  youth,  were  there 
Gazing — the  one  on  all  that  was  beneath 
Fair  as  herself — but  the  boy  gazed  on  her  ; 
And  both  were  fair,  and  one  was  beautiful : 
And  both  were  young — yet  not  alike  in  youth. 
As  the  sweet  moon  in  the  horizon's  verge, 
The  maid  was  on  the  verge  of  womanhood  : 
The  boy  had  fewer  summers,  but  his  heart 
Had  far  outgrown  his  years,  and  to  his  eye 
There  was  but  one  beloved  face  on  earth, 
And  that  was  shining  on  him." 


I  stood  upon  the  spot  consecrated*  by  this 
memorable  interview.  Below  me  extended  the 
"  living  landscape,"  once  contemplated  by  the 
loving  pair  ;  the  gentle  valley  of  Newstead,  diver- 
sified by  woods  and  corn-fields,  and  village  spires, 
and  gleams  of  water,  and  the  distant  towers  and 
pinnacles  of  the  venerable  Abbey.  The  diadem 
of  trees,  however,  was  gone.  The  attention  drawn 
to  it  by  the  poet,  and  the  romantic  manner  in 
which  he  had  associated  it  with  his  early  passion 
for  Mary  Chaworth,  had  nettled  the  irritable  feel- 
ings of  her  husband,  who  but  ill  brooked  the 
poetic  celebrity  conferred  on  his  wife  by  the 
enamored  verses  of  another.  The  celebrated 
grove  stood  on  his  estate,  and  in  a  fit  of  spleen 
he  ordered  it  to  be  levelled  with  the  dust.  At 
the  time  of  my  visit  the  mere  roots  of  the  trees 
were  visible  ;  but  the  hand  that  laid  them  low  is 
execrated  by  every  poetical  pilgrim. 

Descending  the  hill,  we  soon  entered  a  part  of 
what  once  was  Annesley  Park,  and  rode  among 
time-worn  and  tempest-riven  oaks  and  elms,  with 
ivy  clambering  about  their  trunks,  and  rooks' 
nests  among  their  branches.  The  park  had  been 
cut  up  by  a  post-road,  crossing  which,  we  came 
to  the  gate-house  of  Annesley  Hall.  It  was.  an 
old  brick  building  that  might  have  served  as  an 
outpost  or  barbacan  to  the  Hall  during  the  civil 
wars,  when  every  gentleman's  house  was  liable  to 
become  a  fortress.  Loopholes  were  still  visible 
in  its  walls,  but  the  peaceful  ivy  had  mantled  the 
sides,  overrun  the  roof,  and  almost  buried  the 
ancient  clock  in  front,  that  still  marked  the  wan- 
ing hours  of  its  decay. 

An  arched  way  led  through  the  centre  of  the 
gate-house,  secured  by  grated  doors  of  open  iron 
work,  wrought  into  flowers  and  flourishes.  These 
being  thrown  open,  we  entered  a  paved  court- 
yard, decorated  with  shrubs  and  antique  flower- 
pots, with  a  ruined  stone  fountain  in  the  centre. 
The  whole  approach  resembled  that  of  an  old 
French  chateau. 

On  one  side  of  the  court-yard  was  a  range  of 
stables,  nowtenantless,  but  which  bore  traces  of 
the  fox-hunting  squire  ;  for  there  were  stalls 
boxed  up,  into  which  the  hunters  might  be  turned 
loose  when  they  came  home  from  the  chase. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  court,  and  immediately 
opposite  the  gate-house,  extended  the  Hall  itself; 
a  rambling,  irregular  pile,  patched  and  pieced  at 
various  times,  and  in  various  tastes,  with  gable 
ends,  stone  balustrades,  and  enormous  chimneys, 


fir 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


497 


that  strutted  out  like  buttresses  from  the  walls. 
The  whole  front  of  the  edifice  was  overrun  with 
evergreens. 

We  applied  for  admission  at  the  front  door, 
which  was  under  a  heavy  porch.  The  portal  was 
strongly  barricaded,  and  our  knocking  was 
echoed  by  waste  and  empty  halls.  Every  thing 
bore  an  appearance  of  abandonment.  After  a 
time,  however,  our  knocking  summoned  a  soli- 
tary tenant  from  some  remote  corner  of  the  pile. 
It  was  a  decent-looking  little  dame,  who  emerged 
from  a  side  door  at  a  distance,  and  seemed  a 
worthy  inmate  of  the  antiquated  mansion.  She 
had,  in  fact,  grown  old  with  it.  Her  name,  she 
said,  was  Nanny  Marsden  ;  if  she  lived  until  next 
August,  she  would  be  seventy-one  ;  a  great  part 
of  her  life  had  been  passed  in  the  Hall,  and  when 
the  family  had  removed  to  Nottingham,  she  had 
been  left  in  charge  of  it.  The  front  of  the  house 
had  been  thus  warily  barricaded  in  consequence 
of  the  late  riots  at  Nottingham,  in  the  course  of 
which  the  dwelling  of  her  master  had  been  sacked 
by  the  mob.  To  guard  against  any  attempt  of 
the  kind  upon  the  Hall,  she  had  put  it  in  this 
state  of  defence ;  though  I  rather  think  she  and  a 
superannuated  gardener  comprised  the  whole  gar- 
rison. "  You  must  be  attached  to  the  old  build- 
ing," said  I,  "  after  having  lived  so  long  in  it." 
"Ah,  sir  !  "  replied  she,  "  I  am.  getting  in  years, 
and  have  a  furnished  cottage  of  my  own  in  An- 
nesley  Wood,  and  begin  to  feel  as  if  I  should  like 
to  go  and  live  in  my  own  home." 

Guided  by  the  worthy  little  custodian  of  the 
fortress,  we  entered  through  the  sally  port  by 
which  she  had  issued  forth,  and  soon  found  our- 
selves in  a  spacious,  but  somewhat  gloomy  hall, 
where  the  light  was  partially  admitted  through 
square  stone-shafted  windows,  overhung  with  ivy. 
Everything  around  us  had  the  air  of  an  old- 
fashioned  country  squire's  establishment.  In  the 
centre  of  the  hall  was  a  billiard-table,  and  about 
the  walls  were  hung  portraits  of  race-horses, 
hunters,  and  favorite  dogs,  mingled  indiscrimi- 
nately with  family  pictures. 

Staircases  led  up  from  the  hall  to  various  apart- 
ments. In  one  of  the  rooms  we  were  shown  a 
couple  of  buff  jerkins,  and  a  pair  of  ancient  jack- 
boots, of  the  time  of  the  cavaliers  ;  relics  which 
are  often  to  be  met  with  in  the  old  English  family 
mansions.  These,  however,  had  peculiar  value, 
for  the  good  little  dame  assured  us  that  they  had 
belonged  to  Robin  Hood.  As  we  were  in  the 
midst  of  the  region  over  which  that  famous  outlaw 
once  bore  ruffian  sway,  it  was  not  for  us  to  gain- 
say his  claim  to  any  of  these  venerable  relics, 
though  we  might  have  demurred  that  the  articles 
of  dress  here  shown  were  of  a  date  much  later 
than  his  time.  Every  antiquity,  however,  about 
Sherwood  Forest  is  apt  to  be  linked  with  the 
memory  of  Robin  Hood  and  his  gang.  , 

As  we  were  strolling  about  the  mansion,  our 
four-footed  attendant,  Boatswain,  followed  lei- 
surely, as  if  taking  a  survey  of  the  premises.  I 
turned  to  rebuke  him  for  his  intrusion,  but  the 
moment  the  old  housekeeper  understood  he  had 
belonged  to  Lord  Byron,  her  heart  seemed  to 
yearn  toward  him. 

"  Nay,  nay,"  exclaimed  she,  "let  him  alone, 
let  him  go  where  he  pleases.  He's  welcome. 
Ah,  dear  me  !  If  he  lived  here  I  should  take 
great  care  of  him — he  should  want  for  nothing. — 
Well ! "  continued  she,  fondling  him,  "  who 
would  have  thought  that  I  should  see  a  dog  of 
Lord  Byron  in  Annesley  Hall !  " 

"  I  suppose,  then,"  said  I,  "  you  recollect  some- 
33. 


thing  of  Lord  Byron,  when  he  used  to  visit 
here  ?  "  "Ah,  bless  him  !  "  cried  she,  "  that  I 
do !  He  used  to  ride  over  here  and  stay  three 
days  at  a  time,  and  sleep  in  the  blue  room.  Ah  ! 
poor  fellow  !  He  was  very  much  taken  with  my 
young  mistress  ;  he  used  to  walk  about  the  garden 
and  the  terraces  with  her,  and  seemed  to  love 
the  very  ground  she  trod  on.  He  used  to  call 
her  his  bright  morning  star  of  Annesley" 

I  felt  the  beautiful  poetic  phrase  thrill  through 
me. 

"You  appear  to  like  the  memory  of  Lord 
Byron,"  said  I. 

"  Ah,  sir  !  why  should  not  I !  He  was  always 
main  good  to  me  when  he  came  here.  Well, 
well,  they  say  it  is  a  pity  he  and  my  young  lady 
did  not  make  a  match.  Her  mother  would  have 
liked  it.  He  was  always  a  welcome  guest,  and 
some  think  it  would  have  been  well  for  him  to 
have  had  her  ;  but  it  was  not  to  be !  He  went 
away  to  school,  and  then  Mr.  Musters  saw  her, 
and  so  things  took  their  course." 

The  simple  soul  now  showed  us  into  the  favorite 
sitting-room  of  Miss  Chaworth,  with  a  small 
flower-garden  under  the  windows,  in  which  she 
had  delighted.  In  this  room  Byron  used  to  sit 
and  listen  to  her  as  she  played  and  sang,  gazing 
upon  her  with  the  passionate,  and  almost  painful 
devotion  of  a  love-sick  stripling.  He  himself 
gives  us  a  glowing  picture  of  his  mute  idol- 
atry : 

"  He  had  no  breath,  no  being,  but  in  hers  ; 
She  was  his  voice  ;  he  did  not  speak  to  her, 
But  trembled  on  her  words  ;  she  was  his  sight, 
For  his  eye  followed  hers,  and  saw  with  hers, 
Which  colored  all  his  objects  ;  he  had  ceased 
To  live  within  himself;  she  was  his  life, 
The  ocean  to  the  river  of  his  thoughts, 
Which  terminated  all :  upon  a  tone, 
A  touch  of  hers,  his  blood  would  ebb  and  flow, 
And  his  cheek  change  tempestuously — his  heart 
Unknowing  of  its  cause  of  agony." 


There  was  a  little  Welsh  air,  called  ".Mary 
Ann,"  which,  from  bearing  her  own  name,  he  asso- 
ciated with  herself,  and  often  persuaded  her  to 
sing  it  over  and  over  for  him. 

The  chamber,  like  all  the  other  parts  of  the 
house,  had  a  look  of  sadness  and  neglect ;  the 
flower-pots  beneath  the  window,  which  once 
bloomed  beneath  the  hand  of  Mary  Chaworth, 
were  overrun  with  weeds  ;  and  the  piano,  which 
had  once  vibrated  to  her  touch,  and  thrilled  the 
heart  of  her  stripling  lover,  was  now  unstrung 
and  out  of  tune. 

We  continued  our  stroll  about  the  waste  apart- 
ments, of  all  shapes  and  sizes,  and  without  much 
elegance  of  decoration.  Some  of  them  were 
hung  with  family  portraits,  among  which  was 
pointed  out  that  of  the  Mr.  Chaworth  who  was 
killed  by  the  "  wicked  Lord  Byron." 

These  dismal  looking  portraits  had  a  powerful 
effect  upon  the  imagination  of  the  stripling  poet, 
on  his  first  visit  to  the  hall.  As  they  gazed  down 
from  the  wall,  he  thought  they  scowled  upon  him, 
as  if  they  had  taken  a  grudge  against  him  on  ac- 
count of  the  duel  of  his  ancestor.  He  even  gave 
this  as  a  reason,  though  probably  in  jest,  for  not 
sleeping  at  the  Hall,  declaring  that  he  feared 
they  would  come  down  from  their  frames  at  night 
to  haunt  him. 

A  feeling  of  the  kind  he  has  embodied  in  one 
of  his  stanzas  of  '  Don  Juarx 


49S 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


"  The  forms  of  the  grim  knights  and  pictured  saints 

Look  living  in  the  moon  ;  and  as  you  turn 
Backward  and  forward  to  the  echoes  faint 

Of  your  own  footsteps — voices  from  the  urn 
Appear  to  wake,  and  shadows  wild  and  quaint 
Start  from  the  frames  which  fence  their  aspects 

stern, 

As  if  to  ask  you  how  you  dare  to  keep 
A  vigil  there,  where  all  but  death  should  sleep." 

Nor  was  the  youthful  poet  singular  in  these 
fancies  ;  the  hall,  like  most  old  English  mansions 
that  have  ancient  family  portraits  hanging  about 
their  dusky  galleries  and  waste  apartments,  had 
its  ghost  story  connected  with  these  pale  memo- 
rials of  the  dead.  Our  simple-hearted  conductor 
stopped  before  the  portrait  of  a  lady,  who  had 
been  a  beauty  in  her  time,  and  inhabited  the  hall 
in  the  heyday  of  her  charms.  Something  mys- 
terious or  melancholy  was  connected  with  her 
story  ;  she  died  young,  but  continued  for  a  long 
time  to  haunt  the  ancient  mansion,  to  the  great 
dismay  of  the  servants,  and  the  occasional  dis- 
quiet of  the  visitors,  and  it  was  with  much  diffi- 
culty her  troubled  spirit  was  conjured  down  and 
put  to  rest. 

From  the  rear  of  the  hall  we  walked  out  into 
the  garden,  about  which  Byron  used  to  stroll  and 
loiter  in  company  with  Miss  Chaworth.  It  was 
laid  out  in  the  old  French  style.  There  was  a 
long  terraced  walk,  with  heavy  stone  balustrades 
and  sculptured  urns,  overrun  with  ivy  and  ever- 
greens. A  neglected  shrubbery  bordered  one 
side  of  the.  terrace,  with  a  lofty  grove  inhabited 
by  a  venerable  community  of  rooks.  Great 
flights  of  steps  led  down  from  the  terrace  to  a 
flower  garden  laid  out  in  formal  plots.  The 
rear  of  the  Hall,  which  overlooked  the  garden, 
had  the  weather  stains  of  centuries,  and  its 
stone-shafted  casements  and  an  ancient  sun-dial 
against  its  walls  carried  back  the  mind  to  days  of 
yore. 

The  retired  and  quiet  garden,  once  a  little  se- 
questered world  of  love  and  romance,  was  now 
all  matted  and  wild,  yet  was  beautiful,  even  in  its 
decay.  Its  air  of  neglect  and  desolation  was  in 
unison  with  the  fortune  of  the  two  beings  who  had 
once  walked  here  in  the  freshness  of  youth,  and 
life,  and  beauty.  The  garden,  like  their  young 
hearts,  had  gone  to  waste  and  ruin. 

Returning  to  the  Hall  we  now  visited  a  cham- 
ber built  over  the  porch,  or  grand  entrance.  It 
was  in  a  ruinous  condition,  the  ceiling  having 
fallen  in  and  the  floor  given  way.  This,  however, 
is  a  chamber  rendered  interesting  by  poetical 
associations.  It  is  supposed  to  be  the  oratory 
alluded  to  by  Lord  Byron  in  his  "  Dream,"  wherein 
he  pictures  his  departure  from  Annesley,  after 
learning  that  Mary  Chaworth  was  engaged  to  be 
married — 


14  There  was  an  ancient  mansion,  and  before 
Its  walls  there  was  a  steed  caparisoned  ; 
Within  an  antique  oratory  stood 
The  boy  of  whom  I  spake ; — he  was  alone, 
And  pale  and  pacing  to  and  fro  :  ancn 
lie  sate  him  down,  and  seized  a  pen,  and  traced 
Words  which  I  could  not  guess  of;  then  he  leaned 
His  bow'd  head  on  his  hands,  and  shook  as  'twere 
With  a  convulsion — then  arose  again, 
And  with  his  teeth  and  quivering  hands  did  tear 
What  he  had  written,  but  he  shed  no  tears. 
And  he  did  calm  himself,  and  fix  his  brow 
Into  a  kind  of  quiet ;  as  he  paused, 
The  lady  of  his  love  re-entered  there ; 
She  was  serene  and  smiling  then,  and  yet 


She  knew  she  was  by  him  beloved, — she  knew, 

For  quickly  comes  such  knowledge,  that  his  heart 

Was  darkened  with  her  shadow,  and  she  saw 

That  he  was  wretched,  but  she  saw  not  all. 

He  rose,  and  with  a  cold  and  gentle  grasp 

He  took  her  hand ;   a  moment  o'er  his  face 

A  tablet  of  unutterable  thoughts 

Was  traced,  and  then  it  faded  as  it  came  ; 

He  dropp'd  the  hand  he  held,  and  with  slow  steps 

Return'd,  but  not  as  bidding  her  adieu, 

For  they  did  part  with  mutual  smiles  : — he  pass'd 

From  out  the  massy  gate  of  that  old  Hall, 

And  mounting  on  his  steed  he  went  his  way, 

And  ne'er  repassed  that  hoary  threshold  more." 

In  one  of  his  journals,  Lord  Byron  describes 
his  feelings  after  thus  leaving  the  oratory.  Ar- 
riving on  the  summit  of  a  hill,  which  commanded 
the  last  view  of  Annesley,  he  checked  his  horse, 
and  gazed  back  with  mingled  pain  and  fondness 
upon  the  groves  which  embowered  the  Hall,  and 
thought  upon  the  lovely  being  that  dwelt  there, 
until  his  feelings  were  quite  dissolved  in  tender- 
ness. The  conviction  at  length  recurred  that  she 
never  could  be  his,  when,  rousing  himself  from 
his  reverie,  he  struck  his  spurs  into  his  steed  and 
dashed  forward,  as  if  by  rapid  motion  to  leave 
reflection  behind  him. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  what  he  asserts  in  the 
verses  last  quoted,  he  did  pass  the  "  hoary  thresh- 
old "  of  Annesley  again.  It  was,  however,  after 
the  lapse  of  several  years,  during  which  he  had 
grown  up  to  manhood,  and  had  passed  through 
the  ordeal  of  pleasures  and  tumultuous  passions, 
and  had  felt  the  influence  of  other  charms.  Miss 
Chaworth,  too,  had  become  a  wife  and  a  mother, 
and  he  dined  at  Annesley  Hall  at  the  invitation 
of  her  husband.  He  thus  met  the  object  of  his 
early  idolatry  in  the  very  scene  of  his  tender  de- 
votions, which,  as  he  says,  her  smiles  had  once 
made  a  heaven  to  him.  The  scene  was  but  little 
changed.  He  was  in  the  very  chamber  where 
he  had  so  often  listened  entranced  to  the  witchery 
of  her  voice  ;  there  were  the  same  instruments 
and  music  ;  there  lay  her  flower  garden  beneath 
the  window,  and  the  walks  through  which  he  had 
wandered  with  her  in  the  intoxication  of  youthful 
love.  Can  we  wonder  that  amidst  the  tender 
recollections  which  every  object  around  him  was 
calculated  to  awaken,  the  fond  passion  of  his 
boyhood  should  rush  back  in  full  current  to  his 
heart  ?  He  was  himself  surprised  at  this  sudden 
revulsion  of  his  feelings,  but  he  had  acquired 
self-possession  and  could  command  them.  His 
firmness,  however,  was  doomed  to  undergo  a 
further  trial.  While  seated  by  the  object  of  his 
secret  devotions,  with  all  these  recollections 
throbbing  in  his  bosom,  her  infant  daughter  was 
brought  into  the  room.  At  sight  of  the  child  he 
started  ;  it  dispelled  the  last  lingerings  of  his 
dream,  and  he  afterward  confessed,  that  to  re- 
press his  emotion  at  the  moment,  was  the  sever- 
est part  of  his  task. 

The  conflict  of  feelings  that  raged  within  his 
bosom  throughout  this  fond  and  tender,  yet  pain- 
ful and  embarrassing  visit,  arc  touchingly  de- 
picted in  lines  which  he  wrote  immediately  after- 
ward, and  which,  though  not  addressed  to  her 
by  name,  are  evidently  intended  for  the  eye  and 
the  heart  of  the  fair  lady  of  Annesley  : 

"  Well  !  thou  art  happy,  and  I  feel 

That  I  should  thus  be  happy  too ; 
For  still  my  heart  regards  thy  weal 
Warmly,  as  it  was  wont  to  do. 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


499 


•'  Thy  husband' s  blest — and  'twill  impart 
Some  pangs  to  view  his  happier  lot  : 
But  let  them  pass — Oh  !  how  my  heart 
Would  hate  him,  if  he  loved  thee  not  ! 

"  When  late  I  saw  thy  favorite  child 

I  thought  my  jealous  heart  would  break ; 
But  when  the  unconscious  infant  smiled, 
I  kiss'd  it  for  its  mother's  sake. 

"  I  kiss'd  it,  and  repress'd  my  sighs 

Its  father  in  its  face  to  see  ; 
But  then  it  had  its  mother's  eyes, 
And  they  were  all  to  love  and  me. 

41  Mary,  adieu  !  I  must  away  : 

While  thou  art  blest  I'll  not  repine  ; 
But  near  thee  I  can  never  stay  : 

My  heart  would  soon  again  be  thine. 

"I  deem'd  that  time,  I  deem'd  that  pride 

Hadquench'd  at  length  my  boyish  flame  ; 
Nor  knew,  till  seated  by  thy  side, 
My  heart  in  all,  save  love,  the  same. 

* '  Yet  I  was  calm  :  I  knew  the  time 

My  breast  would  thrill  before  thy  look  ; 
But  now  to  tremble  were  a  crime — 
We  met,  and  not  a  nerve  was  shook. 

"I  saw  thee  gaze  upon  my  face, 

Yet  meet  with  no  confusion  there : 
One  only  feeling  could'st  thou  trace ; 
The  sullen  calmness  of  despair. 

"Away  !  away  !  my  early  dream 

Ramembrance  never  must  awake  : 
Oh  !  where  is  Lethe's  fabled  stream  ? 
My  foolish  heart,  be  still,  or  break." 

The  revival  of  this  early  passion,  and  the  mel- 
ancholy associations  which  it  spread  over  those 
scenes  in  the  neighborhood  of  Newstead,  which 
would  necessarily  be  the  places  of  his  frequent 
resort  while  in  England,  are  alluded  to  by  him  as 
a  principal  cause  of  his  first  departure  for  the 
Continent  : 

"  When  man  expell'd  from  Eden's  bowers 

A  moment  lingered  near  the  gate, 

Each  scene  recalled  the  vanish'd  hours, 

And  bade  him  curse  his  future  fate. 

"  But  wandering  on  through  distant  climes, 

He  learnt  to  bear  his  load  of  grief ; 
Just  gave  a  sigh  to  other  times. 
And  found  in  busier  scenes  relief. 

"Thus,  Mary,  must  it  be  with  me, 

And  I  must  view  thy  charms  no  more  ; 
For,  while  I  linger  near  to  thee, 
I  sigh  for  all  I  knew  before." 

It  was  in  the  subsequent  June  that  he  set  off 
on  his  pilgrimage  by  sea  and  land,  which  was  to 
become  the  theme  of  his  immortal  poem.  That 
the  image  of  Mary  Chaworth,  as  he  saw  and 
loved  her  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood,  followed 
him  to  the  very  shore,  is  shown  in  the  glowing 
stanzas  addressed  to  her  on  the  eve  of  embarka- 
tion— 

"  'Tis  done — and  shivering  in  the  gale 
The  bark  unfurls  her  snowy  sail ; 
And  whistling  o'er  the  bending  mast, 
Loud  sings  on  high  the  fresh'ning  blast ; 
And  I  must  from  this  land  be  gone, 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one. 


"  And  I  will  cross  the  whitening  foam, 
And  I  will  seek  a  foreign  home ; 
Till  I  forget  a  false  fair  face, 
I  ne'er  shall  find  a  resting  place  ; 
My  own  dark  thoughts  I  cannot  shun, 
But  ever  love,  and  love  but  one. 

"  To  think  of  every  early  scene, 

Of  what  we  are,  and  what  we've  been, 
Would  whelm  some  softer  hearts  with  woe — 
But  mine,  alas  !  has  stood  the  blow  j 
Yet  still  beats  on  as  it  begun, 
And  never  truly  loves  but  one. 

"And  who  that  dear  loved  one  may  be 
Is  not  for  vulgar  eyes  to  see, 
And  why  that  early  love  was  cross'd, 
Thou  know'st  the  best,  I  feel  the  most ; 
But  few  that  dwell  beneath  the  sun 
Have  loved  so  long,  and  loved  but  one. 

"  I've  tried  another's  fetters  too, 

With  charms,  perchance,  as  fair  to  view  j 
And  I  would  fain  have  loved  as  well, 
But  some  unconquerable  spell 
Forbade  my  bleeding  breast  to  own 
A  kindred  care  for  aught  but  one. 

"'Twould  soothe  to  take  one  lingering  view, 
And  bless  thee  in  my  last  adieu  ; 
Yet  wish  I  not  those  eyes  to  weep 
For  him  who  wanders  o'er  the  deep; 
His  home,  his  hope,  his  youth  are  gone, 
Yet  still  he  loves,  and  loves  but  one." 

The  painful  interview  at  Annesley  Hall,  which 
revived  with  such  intenseness  his  early  passion, 
remained  stamped  upon  his  memory  with  singular 
force,  and  seems  to  have  survived  all  his  "wan- 
dering through  distant  climes,"  to  which  he 
trusted  as  an  oblivious  antidote.  Upward  of 
two  years  after  that  event,  when,  having  made 
his  famous  pilgrimage,  he  was  once  more  an  in- 
mate of  Newstead  Abbey,  his  vicinity  to  Annes- 
ley Hall  brought  the  whole  scene  vividly  before 
him,  and  he  thus  recalls  it  in  a  poetic  epistle  to 
a  friend — 

"  I've  seen  my  bride  another's  bride, — 
Have  seen  her  seated  by  his  side, — 
Have  seen  the  infant  which  she  bore, 
Wear  the  sweet  smile  the  mother  wore. 
When  she  and  I  in  youth  have  smiled 
As  fond  and  faultless  as  her  child  : — 
Have  seen  her  eyes,  in  cold  disdain, 
Ask  if  I  felt  no  secret  pain. 

"  And  I  have  acted  well  my  part, 
And  made  my  cheek  belie  my  heart, 
Returned  the  freezing  glance  she  gave, 
Yet  felt  the  while  that  woman's  slave ; — 
Have  kiss'd,  as  if  without  design, 
The  babe  which  ought  to  have  been  mine, 
And  show'd,  alas  !  in  each  caress, 
Time  had  not  made  me  love  the  less." 

"  It  was  about  the  time,"  says  Moore  in  his  life 
of  Lord  Byron,  "  when  he  was  thus  bitterly  feel- 
ing and  expressing  the  blight  which  his  heart  had 
suffered  from  a  real  object  of  affection,  that  his 
poems  on  an  imaginary  one,  '  Thyrza,'  were 
written."  He  was  at  the  same  time  grieving  over 
the  loss  of  several  of  his  earliest  and  dearest 
friends,  the  companions  of  his  joyous  school-boy 
hours.  To  recur  to  the  beautiful  language  of 
Moore,  who  writes  with  the  kindred  and  kindling 
sympathies  of  a  true  poet  :  "  All  these  recollec- 
tions of  the  young  and  the  dead  mingled  them- 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


selves  in  his  mind  with  the  image  of  her,  who, 
though  living,  was  for  him,  as  much  lost  as  they, 
and  diffused  that  general  feeling  of  sadness  and 
fondness  through  his  soul,  which  found  a  vent  in 
these  poems.  .  .  .  It  was  the  blending  of  the 
two  affections  in  his  memory  and  imagination, 
that  gave  birth  to  an  ideal  object  combining  the 
best  features  of  both,  and  drew  from  him  those 
saddest  and  tenderest  of  love  poems,  in  which  we 
find  all  the  depth  and  intensity  of  real  feeling, 
touched  over  with  such  a  light  as  no  reality  ever 
wore." 

An  early,  innocent,  and  unfortunate  passion, 
however  fruitful  of  pain  it  may  be  to  the  man,  is 
a  lasting  advantage  to  the  poet.  It  is  a  well  of 
sweet  and  bitter  fancies  ;  of  refined  and  gentle 
sentiments  ;  of  elevated  and  ennobling  thoughts  ; 
shut  up  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  heart,  keeping 
it  green  amidst  the  withering  blights  of  the  world, 
and,  by  its  casual  gushings  and  overflowings,  re- 
calling at  times  all  the  freshness,  and  innocence, 
and  enthusiasm  of  youthful  days.  Lord  Byron 
was  conscious  of  this  effect,  and  purposely  cher- 
ished and  brooded  over  the  remembrance  of  his 
early  passion,  and  of  all  the  scenes  of  Annesley 
Hall  connected  with  it.  It  was  this  remembrance 
that  attuned  his  mind  to  some  of  its  most  elevated 
and  virtuous  strains,  and  shed  an  inexpressible 
grace  and  pathos  over  his  best  productions. 

Being  thus  put  upon  the  traces  of  this  little 
love-story,  I  cannot  refrain  from  threading  them 
out,  as  they  appear  from  time  to  time  in  various 
passages  of  Lord  Byron's  works.  During  his 
subsequent  rambles  in  the  East,  when  time  and 
distance  had  softened  away  his  "  early  romance  " 
almost  into  the  remembrance  of  a  pleasing  and 
tender  dream,  he  received  accounts  of  the  ob- 
ject of  it,  which  represented  her,  still  in  her  pa- 
ternal Hall,  among  her  native  bowers  of  Annes- 
ley, surrounded  by  a  blooming  and  beautiful 
family,  yet  a  prey  to  secret  and  withering  melan- 
choly— 

' '  In  her  home, 

A  thousand  leagues  from  his, — her  native  home, 

She  dwelt,  begirt  with  growing  infancy, 

Daughters  and  sons  of  beauty,  but — behold  ! 

Upon  her  face  there  was  the  tint  of  grief, 

The  settled  shadow  of  an  inward  strife, 

And  an  unquiet  drooping  of  the  eye, 

As  if -its  lids  were  charged  with  unshed  tears." 

For  an  instant  the  buried  tenderness  of  early 
youth  and' the  fluttering  hopes  which  accompanied 
it,  seemed  to  have  revived  in  his  bosom,  and  the 
idea  to  have  flashed  upon  his  mind  that  his  image 
might  be  connected  with  her  secret  woes — but 
he  rejected  the  thought  almost  as  soon  as  formed. 

"  What  could  her  grief  be  ? — she  had  all  she  loved, 
And  he  who  had  so  loved  her  was  not  there 
To  trouble  with  bad  hopes,  or  evil  wish, 
Or  ill  repress'd  affection,  her  pure  thoughts. 
What  could  her  grief  be  ? — she  had  loved  him  not, 
Nor  given  him  cause  to  deem  himself  beloved, 
Nor  could  he  be  a  part  of  that  which  prey'd 
Upon  her  mind — a  spectre  of  the  past." 

The  cause  of  her  grief  was  a  matter  of  rural 
comment  in  the  neighborhood  of  Newstead  and 
Annesley.  It  was  disconnected  from  all  idea  of 
Lord  Byron,  but  attributed  to  the  harsh  and 
capricious  conduct  of  one  to  whose  kindness  and 
affection  she  had  a  sacred  claim.  The  domestic 
sorrows  which  had  long  preyed  in  secret  on  her 
heart,  at  length  affected  her  intellect,  and  the 


"  bright  morning  star  of  Annesley  "  was  eclipsed 
for  ever. 

"  The  lady  of  his  love, — oh!  she  was  changed 
As  by  the  sickness  of  the  soul ;  her  mind 
Had  wandered  from  its  dwelling,  and  her  eyes, 
They  had  not  their  own  lustre,  but  the  look 
Which  is  not  of  the  earth ;  she  was  become 
The  queen  of  a  fantastic  realm :  but  her  thoughts 
Were  combinations  of  disjointed  things ; 
And  forms  impalpable  and  unperceived 
Of  others'  sight,  familiar  were  to  hers. 
And  this  the  world  calls  frenzy." 

Notwithstanding  lapse  of  time,  change  of  place, 
and  a  succession  of  splendid  and  spirit-stirring 
scenes  in  various  countries,  the  quiet  and  gentle 
scene  of  his  boyish  love  seems  to  have  held  a 
magic  sway  over  the  recollections  of  Lord  Byron, 
and  the  image  of  Mary  Chaworth  to  have  unex- 
pectedly obtruded  itself  upon  his  mind  like  some 
supernatural  visitation.  Such  was  the  fact  on 
the  occasion  of  his  marriage  with  Miss  Milbanke  ; 
Annesley  Hall  and  all  its  fond  associations  floated 
like  a  vision  before  his  thoughts,  even  when  at 
the  altar,  and  on  the  point  of  pronouncing  the 
nuptial  vows.  The  circumstance  is  related  by 
him  with  a  force  and  feeling  that  persuade  us  of 
its  truth. 

"  A  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  my  dream. 
The  wanderer  was  returned. — I  saw  him  stand 
Before  an  altar — with  n  gentle  bride  ; 
Her  face  was  fair,  but  was  not  that  which  made 
The  star-light  of  his  boyhood  ; — as  he  stood 
Even  at  the  altar,  o'er  his  brow  there  came 
The  self-same  aspect,  and  the  quivering  shock 
That  in  the  antique  oratory  shook 
His  bosom  in  its  solitude  ;  and  then — 
As  in  that  hour — a  moment  o'er  his  face 
The  tablet  of  unutterable  thoughts 
Was  traced, — and  then  it  faded  as  it  came, 
And  he  stood  calm  and  quiet,  and  he  spoke 
The  fitting  vows,  but  heard  not  his  own  words, 
And  all  things  reel'd  around  him  :  he  could  see 
Not  that  which  was,  nor  that  which  should  have  been — 
But  the  old  mansion,  and  the  accustomed  hall, 
And  the  remember'd  chambers,  and  the  place, 
The  day,  the  hour,  the  sunshine,  and  the  shade, 
All  things  pertaining  to  that  place  and  hour, 
And  her  who  was  his  destiny,  came  back, 
And  thrust  themselves  between  him  and  the  light : 
What  business  had  they  there  at  such  a  time  ?  " 

The  history  of  Lord  Byron's  union  is  too  well 
known  to  need  narration.  The  errors,  and  humili- 
ations, and  heart-burnings  that  followed  upon 
it,  gave  additional  effect  to  the  remembrance  of 
his  early  passion,  and  tormented  him  with  the 
idea,  that  had  he  been  successful  in  his  suit  to 
the  lovely  heiress  of  Annesley,  they  might  both 
have  shared  a  happier  destiny.  In  one  of  his 
manuscripts,  written  long  after  his  marriage,  hav- 
ing accidentally  mentioned  Miss  Chaworth  as 
"my  M.  A.  C."  "Alas!"  exclaims  he,  with  a 
sudden  burst  of  feeling,  "why  do  I  say  my? 
Our  union  would  have  healed  feuds  in  which 
blood  had  been  shed  by  our  fathers  ;  it  would 
have  joined  lands  broad  and  rich  ;  it  would  have 
joined  at  least  one  heart,  and  two  persons  not  ill- 
matched  in  years  —  and — and — and — what  has 
been  the  result  ?  " 

But  enough  of  Annesley  Hall  and  the  poetical 
themes  connected  with  it.  I  felt  as  if  I  could 
linger  for  hours  about  its  ruined  oratory,  and 
silent  hall,  and  neglected  garden,  and  spin  reve- 
ries and  dream  dreams,  until  all  became  an  ideal 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


501 


world  around  me.  The  day,  however,  was  fast 
declining,  and  the  shadows  of  evening  throwing 
deeper  shades  of  melancholy  about  the  place. 
Taking  our  leave  of  the  worthy  old  housekeeper, 
therefore,  with  a  small  compensation  and  many 
thanks  for  her  civilities,  we  mounted  our  horses 
and  pursued  our  way  back  to  Newstead  Abbey. 


THE  LAKE. 

"  BEFORE  the  mansion  lay  a  lucid  lake, 

Broad  as  transparent,  deep,  and  freshly  fed 

By  a  river,  which  its  softened  way  did  take 
In  currents  through  the  calmer  water  spread 

Around  :  the  wild  fowl  nestled  in  the  brake 
And  sedges,  brooding  in  their  liquid  bed  : 

The  woods  sloped  downward  to  its  brink,  and  stood 

With  their  green  faces  fixed  upon  the  flood." 

Such  is  Lord  Byron's  description  of  one  of  a 
series  of  beautiful  sheets  of  water,  formed  in  old 
times  by  the  monks  by  damming  up  the  course 
of  a  small  river.  Here  he  used  daily  to  enjoy  his 
favorite  recreations  in  swimming  and  sailing. 
The  "wicked  old  Lord,"  in  his  scheme  of  rural 
devastation,  had  cut  down  all  the  woods  that  once 
fringed  the  lake  ;  Lord  Byron,  on  coming  of  age, 
endeavored  to  restore  them,  and  a  beautiful 
young  wood,  planted  by  him,  now  sweeps  up  from 
the  water's  edge,  and  clothes  the  hillside  oppo- 
site to  the  Abbey.  To  this  woody  nook  Colonel 
Wildman  has  given  the  appropriate  title  of  "  the 
Poet's  Corner." 

The  lake  has  inherited  its  share  of  the  tradi- 
tions and  fables  connected  with  everything  in 
and  about  the  Abbey,  ft  was  a  petty  Mediter- 
ranean sea  on  which  the  "  wicked  old  Lord"  used 
to  gratify  his  nautical  tastes  and  humors.  He 
had  his  mimic  castles  and  fortresses  along  its 
shores,  and  his  mimic  fleets  upon  its  waters,  and 
used  to  get  up  mimic  sea-fights.  The  remains 
of  his  petty  fortifications  still  awaken  the  curious 
inquiries  of  visitors.  In  one  of  his  vagaries,  he 
caused  a  large  vessel  to  be  brought  on  wheels 
from  the  sea-coast  and  launched  in  the  lake.  The 
country  people  were  surprised  to  see  a  ship  thus 
sailing  over  dry  land.  They  called  to  mind  a 
saying  of  Mother  Shipton,  the  famous  prophet  of 
the  vulgar,  that  whenever  a  ship  freighted  with 
ling  should  cross  Sherwood  Forest,  Newstead 
would  pass  out  of  the  Byron  family.  The  country 
people,  who  detested  the  old  Lord,  were  anxious 
to  verify  the  prophecy.  Ling,  in  the  dialect  of 
Nottingham,  is  the  name  for  heather ;  with  this 
plant  they  heaped  the  fated  bark  as  it  passed,  so 
that  it  arrived  full  freighted  at  Newstead. 

The  most  important  stories  about  the  lake, 
however,  relate  to  the  treasures  that  are  supposed 
to  lie  buried  in  its  bosom.  These  may  have 
taken  their  origin  in  a  fact  which  actually  occur- 
red. There  was  one  time  fished  up  from  the 
deep  part  of  the  lake  a  great  eagle  of  molten 
brass,  with  expanded  wings,  standing  on  a  pede- 
stal or  perch  of  the  same  metal.  It  had  doubt- 
less served  as  a  stand  or  reading-desk,  in  the 
Abbey  chapel,  to  hold  a  folio  Bible  or  missal. 

The  sacred  relic  was  sent  to  a  brazier  to  be 
cleaned.  As  he  was  at  work  upon  it,  he  dis- 
covered that  the  pedestal  was  hollow  and  com- 
posed of  several  pieces.  Unscrewing  these,  he 
d*ew  forth  a  number  of  parchment  deeds  and 
grants  appertaining  to  the  Abbey,  and  bearing 
the  seals  of  Edward  III.  and  Henry  VIII.,  which 


had  thus  been  concealed,  and.  ultimately  sunk  in 
the  lake  by  the  friars,  to  substantiate  their  right 
and  title  to  these  domains  at  some  future  day. 

One  of  the  parchment  scrolls  thus  discovered, 
throws  rather  an  awkward  light  upon  the  kind  of 
life  led  by  the  friars  of  Newstead.  It  is  an  in- 
dulgence granted  to  them  for  a  certain  number  of 
months,  in  which  plenary  pardon  is  assured  in 
advance  for  all  kinds  of  crimes,  among  which, 
several  of  the  most  gross  and  sensual  are  specifi- 
cally mentioned,  and  the  weakness  of  the  flesh  to 
which  they  are  prone. 

After  inspecting  these  testimonials  of  monkish 
life,  in  the  regions  of  Sherwood  Forest,  we  cease 
to  wonder  at  the  virtuous  indignation  of  Robin 
Hood  and  his  outlaw  crew,  at  the  sleek  sensual- 
ists of  the  cloister  : 

"  I  never  hurt  the  husbandman, 
That  use  to  till  the  ground, 
Nor  spill  their  blood  that  range  the  wood 
To  follow  hawk  and  hound. 

"  My  chiefest  spite  to  clergy  is, 

Who  in  these  days  bear  sway ; 
With  friars  and  monks  with  their  fine  spunks, 
I  make  my  chiefest  prey." 

OLD  BALLAD  OF  ROBIN  HOOD. 

The  brazen  eagle  has  been  transferred  to  the 
parochial  and  collegiate  church  of  Southall, 
about  twenty  miles  from  Newstead,  where  it  may 
still  be  seen  in  the  centre  of  the  chancel,  sup- 
porting, as  of  yore,  a  ponderous  Bible.  As  to 
the  documents  it  contained,  they  are  carefully 
treasured  up  by  Colonel  Wildman  among  his 
other  deeds  and  papers,  in  an  iron  chest  secured 
by  a  patent  lock  of  nine  bolts,  almost  equal  to  a 
magic  spell. 

The  fishing  up  of  this  brazen  relic,  as  I  have 
already  hinted,  has  given  rise  to  the  tales  of  treas- 
ure lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  thrown  in 
there  by  the  monks  when  they  abandoned  the 
Abbey.  The  favorite  story  is,  that  there  is  a 
great  iron  chest  there  filled  with  gold  and  jewels, 
and  chalices  and  crucifixes.  Nay,  that  it  has 
been  seen,  when  the  water  of  the  lake  was  unu- 
sually low.  There  were  large  iron  rings  at  each 
end,  but  all  attempts  to  move  it  were  ineffectual ; 
either  the  gold  it  contained  was  too  ponderous, 
or  what  is  more  probable,  it  was  secured  by  one 
of  those  magic  spells  usually  laid  upon  hidden 
treasure.  It  remains,  therefore,  at  the  bottom 
of  the  lake  to  this  day  ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
may  one  day  or  other  be  discovered  by  the  pre- 
sent worthy  proprietor. 


ROBIN  HOOD  AND  SHERWOOD  FOREST. 

WHILE  at  Newstead  Abbey  I  took  great  de- 
light in  riding  and  rambling  about  the  neighbor- 
hood, studying  out  the  traces  of  merry  Sherwood 
Forest,  and  visiting  the  haunts  of  Robin  Hood. 
The  relics  of  the  old  forest  are  few  and  scattered, 
but  as  to  the  bold  outlaw  who  once  held  a  kind 
of  freebooting  sway  over  it,  there  is  scarce  a  hill 
or  dale,  a  cliff  or  cavern,  a  well  or  fountain,  in 
this  part  of  the  country,  that  is  not  connected 
with  his  memory.  The  very  names  of  some  of 
the  tenants  on  the  Newstead  estate,  such  as 
Beardall  and  Hardstaff,  sound  as  if  they  may 
have  been  borne  in  old  times  by  some  of  the 
stalwart  fellows  of  the  outlaw  gang. 


502 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


One  of  the  earliest  books  that  captivated  my 
fancy  when  a  child,  was  a  collection  of  Robin 
Hood  ballads,  "adorned  with  cuts,"  which  I 
bought  of  an  old  Scotch  pedler,  at  the  cost  of 
all  my  holiday  money.  How  I  devoured  its 
pages,  and  gazed  upon  its  uncouth  woodcuts ! 
For  a  time  my  mind  was  filled  with  picturings  of 
"  merry  Sherwood,"  and  the  exploits  and  revel- 
ling of  the  bold  foresters ;  and  Robin  Hood, 
Little  John,  Friar  Tuck,  and  their  doughty  com- 
peers, were  my  heroes  of  romance. 

These  early  feelings  were  in  some  degree  re- 
vived when  I  found  myself  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  far-famed  forest,  and,  as  I  said  before,  I  took 
a  kind  of  schoolboy  delight  in  hunting  up  all 
traces  of  old  Sherwood  and  its  sylvan  chivalry. 
One  of  the  first  of  my  antiquarian  rambles  was  on 
horseback,  in  company  with  Colonel  Wildman 
and  his  lady,  who  undertook  to  guide  me  to  some 
of  the  moldering  monuments  of  the  forest.  One 
of  these  stands  in  front  of  the  very  gate  of  New- 
stead  Park,  and  is  known  throughout  the  country 
by  the  name  of  "  The  Pilgrim  Oak."  It  is  a 
venerable  tree,  of  great  size,  overshadowing  a 
wide  arena  of  the  road.  Under  its  shade  the 
rustics  of  the  neighborhood  have  been  ac- 
customed to  assemble  on  certain  holidays,  and 
celebrate  their  rural  festivals.  This  custom  had 
been  handed  down  from  father  to  son  for  several 
generations,  until  the  oak  had  acquired  a  kind  of 
sacred  character. 

The  "  old  Lord  Byron,"  however,  in  whose 
eyes  nothing  was  sacred,  when  he  laid  his  deso- 
lating hand  on  the  groves  and  forests  of  New- 
stead,  doomed  likewise  this  traditional  tree  to  the 
axe.  Fortunately  the  good  people  of  Notting- 
ham heard  of  the  danger  of  their  favorite  oak, 
and  hastened  to  ransom  it  from  destruction. 
They  afterward  made  a  present  of  it  to  the  poet, 
when  he  came  to  the  estate,  and  the  Pilgrim  Oak 
is  likely  to  continue  a  rural  gathering  place  for 
many  coming  generations. 

From  this  magnificent  and  time-honored  tree 
we  continued  on  our  sylvan  research,  in  quest  of 
another  oak,  of  more  ancient  date  and  less  flour- 
ishing condition.  A  ride  of  two  or  three  miles, 
the  latter  part  across  open  wastes,  once  clothed 
with  forest,  now  bare  and  cheerless,  brought  us 
to  the  tree  in  question.  It  was  the  Oak  of 
Ravenshead,  one  of  the  last  survivors  of  old 
Sherwood,  and  which  had  evidently  once  held  a 
high  head  in  the  forest ;  it  was  now  a  mere 
wreck,  crazed  by  time,  and  blasted  by  lightning, 
and  standing  alone  on  a  naked  waste,  like  a 
ruined  column  in  a  desert. 


"  The  scenes  are  desert  now,  and  bare, 
Where  flourished  once  a  forest  fair, 
When  these  waste  glens  with  copse  were  lined, 
And  peopled  with  the  hart  and  hind. 
Yon  lonely  oak,  would  he  could  tell 
The  changes  of  his  parent  dell, 
Since  he,  so  gray  and  stubborn  now, 
Waved  in  each  breeze  a  sapling  bough. 
Would  he  could  tell  how  deep  the  shade 
A  thousand  mingled  branches  made. 
Here  in  my  shade,  methinks  he'd  say, 
The  mighty  stag  at  noontide  lay, 
While  doe,  and  roe,  and  red-deer  good, 
Have  bounded  by  through  gay  green-wood." 

At  no  great  distance  from  Ravenshead  Oak  is 
a  small  cave  which  goes  by  the  name  of  Robin 
Hood's  stable.  It  is  in  the  breast  of  a  hill, 
scooped  out  of  brown  freestone,  with  rude  at- 


tempt at  columns  and  arches.  Within  are  two 
niches,  which  served,  it  is  said,  as  stalls  for  the 
bold  outlaw's  horses.  To  this  retreat  he  retired 
when  hotly  pursued  by  the  law,  for  the  place  was 
a  secret  even  from  his  band.  The  cave  is  over- 
shadowed by  an  oak  and  alder,  and  is  hardly 
discoverable  even  at  the  present  day  ;  but  when 
the  country  was  overrun  with  forest  it  must  have 
been  completely  concealed. 

There  was  an  agreeable  wildness  and  loneliness 
in  a  great  part  of  our  ride.  Our  devious  road 
wound  down,  at  one  time  among  rocky  dells,  by 
wandering  streams,  and  lonely  pools,  haunted  by 
shy  water-fowl.  We  passed  through  a  skirt  of 
woodland,  of  more  modern  planting,  but  consid- 
ered a  legitimate  offspring  of  the  ancient  forest, 
and  commonly  called  Jock  of  Sherwood.  In 
riding  through  these  quiet,  solitary  scenes,  the 
partridge  and  pheasant  would  now  and  then 
burst  upon  the  wing,  and  the  hare  scud  away  be- 
fore us. 

Another  of  these  rambling  rides  in  quest  of 
popular  antiquities,  was  to  a  chain  of  rocky 
cliffs,  called  the  Kirkby  Crags,  which  skirt  the 
Robin  Hood  hills.  Here,  leaving  my  horse  at 
the  foot  of  the  crags,  I  scaled  their  rugged  sides, 
and  seated  myself  in  a  niche  of  the  rocks,  called 
Robin  Hood's  chair.  It  commands  a  wide  pros- 
pect over  the  valley  of  Newstead,  and  here  the 
bold  outlaw  is  said  to  have  taken  his  seat,  and 
kept  a  look-out  upon  the  roads  below,  watching 
for  merchants,  and  bishops,  and  other  wealthy 
travellers,  upon  whom  to  pounce  down,  like  an 
eagle  from  his  eyrie. 

Descending  from  the  cliffs  and  remounting  my 
horse,  a  ride  of  a  mile  or  two  further  along  a 
narrow  "  robber  path,"  as  it  was  called,  which 
wound  up  into  the  hills  between  perpendicular 
rocks,  led  to  an  artificial  cavern  cut  in  the  face 
of  a  cliff,  with  a  door  and  window  wrought 
through  the  living  stone.  This  bears  the  name 
of  Friar  Tuck's  cell,  or  hermitage,  where,  ac- 
cording to  tradition,  that  jovial  anchorite  used  to 
make  good  cheer  and  boisterous  revel  with  his 
freebooting  comrades. 

Such  were  some  of  the  vestiges  of  old  Sher- 
wood and  its  renowned  "  yeomandrie,"  which  I 
visited  in  the  neighborhood  of  Newstead.  The 
worthy  clergyman  who  officiated  as  chaplain  at 
the  Abbey,  seeing  my  zeal  in  the  cause,  informed 
me  of  a  considerable  tract  of  the  ancient  forest, 
still  in  existence  about  ten  miles  distant.  There 
were  many  fine  old  oaks  in  it,  he  said,  that  had 
stood  for  centuries,  but  were  now  shattered  and 
"  stag-headed,"  that  is  to  say,  their  upper 
branches  were  bare,  and  blasted,  and  straggling 
out  like  the  antlers  of  a  deer.  Their  trunks,  too, 
were  hollow,  and  full  of  crows  and  jackdaws, 
who  made  them  their  nestling  places.  He  occa- 
sionally rode  over  to  the  forest  in  the  long  sum- 
mer evenings,  and  pleased  himself  with  loiter- 
ing in  the  twilight  about  the  green  alleys  and 
under  the  venerable  trees. 

The  description  given  by  the  chaplain  made 
me  anxious  to  visit  this  remnant  of  old  Sherwood, 
and  he  kindly  offered  to  be  my  guide  and  com- 
panion. We  accordingly  sallied  forth  one  morn- 
ing on  horseback  on  this  sylvan  expedition.  Our 
ride  took  us  through  a  part  of  the  country  where 
King  John  had  once  held  a  hunting  seat ;  the 
ruins  of  which  are  still  to  be  seen.  At  that  time 
the  whole  neighborhood  was  an  open  royal  for- 
est, or  Frank  chase,  as  it  was  termed  ;  for  King 
John  was  an  enemy  to  parks  and  warrens,  and 
other  inclosureSj  by  which  game  was  fenced  in 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


503 


for   the  private   benefit   and   recreation    of    the 
nobles  and  the  clergy. 

Here,  on  the  brow  of  a  gentle  hill,  command- 
ing an  extensive  prospect  of  what  had  once  been 
forest,  stood  another  of  those  monumental  trees, 
which,  to  my  mind,  gave  a  peculiar  interest  to 
this  neighborhood.  It  was  the  Parliament  Oak, 
so  called  in  memory  of  an  assemblage  of  the 
kind  held  by  King  John  beneath  its  shade.  The 
lapse  of  upward  of  six  centuries  had  reduced  this 
once  mighty  tree  to  a  mere  crumbling  fragment, 
yet,  like  a  gigantic  torso  in  ancient  statuary,  the 
grandeur  of  the  mutilated  trunk  gave  evidence  of 
what  it  had  been  in  the  days  of  its  glory.  In 
contemplating  its  mouldering  remains,  the  fancy 
busied  itself  in  calling  up  the  scene  that  must 
have  been  presented  beneath  its  shade,  when  this 
sunny  hill  swarmed  with  the  pageantry  of  a  war- 
like and  hunting  court.-  When  silken  pavilions 
and  warrior-tents  decked  its  crest,  and  royal 
standards,  and  baronial  banners,  and  knightly 
pennons  rolled  out  to  the  breeze.  When  prelates 
and  courtiers,  and  steel-clad  chivalry  thronged 
round  the  person  of  the  monarch,  while  at  a  dis- 
tance loitered  the  foresters  in  green,  and  all  the 
rural  and  hunting  train  that  waited  upon  his 
sylvan  sports. 

"  A  thousand  vassals  mustered  round 

With  horse,  and  hawk,  and  horn,  and  hound  ; 
And  through  the  brake  the  rangers  stalk, 
And  falc'ners  hold  the  ready  hawk  ; 
And  foresters  in  green-wood  trim 
Lead  in  the  leash  the  greyhound  grim." 

Such  was  the  phantasmagoria  that  presented 
itself  for  a  moment  to  my  imagination,  peopling 
the  silent  place  before  me  with  empty  shadows  of 
the  past.  The  reverie  however  was  transient  ; 
king,  courtier,  and  steel-clad  warrior,  and  forest- 
er in  green,  with  horn,  and  hawk,  and  hound, 
all  faded  again  into  oblivion,  and  I  awoke  to  all 
that  remained  of  this  once  stirring  scene  of  hu- 
man pomp  and  power — a  mouldering  oak,  and  a 
tradition. 

"  We  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of !  " 

A  ride  of  a  few  miles  farther  brought  us  at 
length  among  the  venerable  and  classic  shades  of 
Sherwood.  Here  I  was  delighted  to  find  myself 
in  a  genuine  wild  wood,  of  primitive  and  natural 
growth,  so  rarely  to  be  met  with  in  this  thickly 
peopled  and  highly  cultivated  country.  It  re- 
minded me  of  the  aboriginal  forests  of  my  native 
land.  I  rode  through  natural  alleys  and  green- 
wood groves,  carpeted  with  grass  and  shaded  by 
lofty  and  beautiful  birches.  What  most  inter- 
ested me,  however,  was  to  behold  around  me  the 
mighty  trunks  of  veteran  oaks,  old  monumental 
trees,  the  patriarchs  of  Sherwood  Forest.  They 
were  shattered,  hollow,  and  moss-grown,  it  is 
true,  and  their  "  leafy  honors  "  were  nearly  de- 
parted ;  but  like  mouldering  towers  they  were 
noble  and  picturesque  in  their  decay,  and  gave 
evidence,  even  in  their  ruins,  of  their  ancient 
grandeur. 

As  I  gazed  about  me  upon  these  vestiges  of 
once  "  Merrie  Sherwood,"  the  picturings  of  my 
boyish  fancy  began  to  rise  in  my  mind,  and 
Robin  Hood  and  his  men  to  stand  before  me. 

"  He  clothed  himself  in  scarlet  then, 

His  men  were  all  in  green  ; 
A  finer  show  throughout  the  world 
In  no  place  could  be  seen. 


"  Good  lord  !  it  was  a  gallant  sight 

To  see  them  all  in  a  row ; 
With  every  man  a  good  broad-sword 
And  eke  a  good  yew  bow." 

The  horn  of  Robin  Hood  again  seemed  to  re- 
sound through  the  forest.  I  saw  this  sylvan 
chivalry,  half  huntsmen,  half  freebooters,  troop- 
ing across  the  distant  glades,  or  feasting  and 
revelling  beneath  the  trees  ;  I  was  going  on  to 
embody  in  this  way  all  the  ballad  scenes  that  had 
delighted  me  when  a  boy,  when  the  distant  sound 
of  a  wood-cutter's  axe  roused  me  from  my  day- 
dream. 

The  boding  apprehensions  which  it  awakened 
were  too  soon  verified.  I  had  not  ridden  much 
farther,  when  I  came  to  an  open  space  where  the 
work  of  destruction  was  going  on.  Around  me 
lay  the  prostrate  trunks  of  venerable  oaks,  once 
the  towering  and  magnificent  lords  of  the  forest, 
and  a  number  of  wood-cutters  were  hacking  and 
hewing  at  another  gigantic  tree,  just  tottering  to 
its  fall. 

Alas !  for  old  Sherwood  Forest  :  it  had  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  a  noble  agriculturist ;  a 
modern  utilitarian,  who  had  no  feeling  for  poetry 
or  forest  scenery.  In  a  little  while  and  this 
glorious  woodland  will  be  laid  low  ;  its  green 
glades  be  turned  into  sheep-walks  ;  its  legendary 
bowers  supplanted  by  turnip-fields  ;  and  "  Merrie 
Sherwood"  will  exist  but  in  ballad  and  tradition. 

"  O  for  the  poetical  superstitions,"  thought  I, 
"  of  the  olden  time  !  that  shed  a  sanctity  over 
every  grove  ;  that  gave  to  each  tree  its  tutelar 
genius  or  nymph,  and  threatened  disaster  to  all 
who  should  molest  the  hamadryads  in  their  leafy 
abodes.  Alas !  for  the  sordid  propensities  of 
modern  days,  when  every  thing  is  coined  into 
gold,  and  this  once  holiday  planet  of  ours  is 
turned  into  a  mere  'working-day  world.'" 

My  cobweb  fancies  put  to  flight,  and  my  feel- 
ings out  of  tune,  I  left  the  forest  in  a  far  different 
mood  from  that  in  which  I  had  entered  it,  and 
rode  silently  along  until,  on  reaching  the  summit 
of  a  gentle  eminence,  the  chime  of  evening  bells 
came  on  the  breeze  across  the  heath  from  a  dis- 
tant village. 

I  paused  to  listen. 

"  They  are  merely  the  evening  bells  of  Mans- 
field," said  my  companion. 

"Of  Mansfield!"  Here  was  another  of  the 
legendary  names  of  this  storied  neighborhood, 
that  called  up  early  and  pleasant  associations. 
The  famous  old  ballad  of  the  King  and  the  Mil- 
ler of  Mansfield  came  at  once  to  mind,  and  the 
chime  of  the  bells  put  me  again  in  good  humor. 

A  little  farther  on,  and  we  were  again  on  the 
traces  of  Robin  Hood.  Here  was  Fountain  Dale, 
where  he  had  his  encounter  with  that  stalwart 
shaveling  Friar  Tuck,  who  was  a  kind  of  saint 
militant,  alternately  wearing  the  casque  and  the 
cowl : 

.  "The  curtal  fryar  kept  Fountain  dale 

Seven  long  years  and  more, 
There  was  neither  lord,  knight  or  earl 
Could  make  him  yield  before." 

The  moat  is  still  shown  which  is  said  to  have 
surrounded  the  stronghold  of  this  jovial  and 
fighting:  friar  ;  and  the  place  where  he  and  Robin 
Hood  had  their  sturdy  trial  of  strength  and 
prowess,  in  the  memorable  conflict  which  lasted 

"  From  ten  o'clock  that  very  day 
Until  four  in  the  afternoon," 


504 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


and  ended  in  the  treaty  of  fellowship.  As  to  the 
hardy  feats,  both  of  sword  and  trencher,  per- 
formed by  this  "curtal  fryar,"  behold  are  they 
not  recorded  at  length  in  the  ancient  ballads,  and 
in  the  magic  pages  of  Ivanhoe  ? 

The  evening  was  fast  coming  on,  and  the  twi- 
light thickening,  as  we  rode  through  these  haunts 
famous  in  outlaw  story.  A  melancholy  seemed 
to  gather  over  the  landscape  as  we  proceeded, 
for  our  course  lay  by  shadowy  woods,  and  across 
naked  heaths,  and  along  lonely  roads,  marked  by 
some  of  those  sinister  names  by  which  the  coun- 
try people  in  England  are  apt  to  make  dreary 
places  still  more  dreary.  The  horrors  of 
"  Thieves'  Wood,"  and  the  "  Murderers'  Stone," 
and  "  the  Hag  Nook,"  had  all  to  be  encountered 
in  the  gathering  gloom  of  evening,  and  threatened 
to  beset  our  path  with  more  than  mortal  peril. 
Happily,  however,  we  passed  these  ominous 
places  unharmed,  and  arrived  in  safety  at  the 
portal  of  Newstead  Abbey,  highly  satisfied  with 
our  green-wood  foray. 


THE  ROOK  CELL. 

IN  the  course  of  my  sojourn  at  the  Abbey,  I 
changed  my  quarters  from  the  magnificent  old 
state  apartment  haunted  by  Sir  John  Byron  the 
Little,  to  another  in  a  remote  corner  of  the 
ancient  edifice,  immediately  adjoining  the  ruined 
chapel  It  possessed  still  more  interest  in  my 
eyes,  from  having  been  the  sleeping  apartment 
of  Lord  Byron  during  his  residence  at  the  Abbey. 
The  furniture  remained  the  same.  Here  was  the 
bed  in  which  he  slept,  and  which  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  college ;  its  gilded  posts  sur- 
mounted by  coronets,  giving  evidence  of  his 
aristocratical  feelings.  Here  was  likewise  his 
college  sofa  ;  and  about  the  walls  were  the 
portraits  of  his  favorite  butler,  old  Joe  Murray, 
of  his  fancy  acquaintance,  Jackson  the  pugilist, 
together  with  pictures  of  Harrow  School  and  the 
College  at  Cambridge,  at  which  he  was  educated. 
The  bedchamber  goes  by  the  name  of  the  Rook 
Cell,  from  its  vicinity  to  the  Rookery  which,  since 
time  immemorial,  has  maintained  possession  of  a 
solemn  grove  adjacent  to  the  chapel.  This  vener- 
able community  afforded  me  much  food  for 
speculation  during  my  residence  in  this  apart- 
ment. In  the  morning  I  used  to  hear  them 
gradually  waking  and  seeming  to  call  each  other 
up.  After  a  time,  the  whole  fraternity  would  be 
in  a  flutter  ;  some  balancing  and  swinging  on  the 
tree  tops,  others  perched  on  the  pinnacle  of  the 
Abbey  church,  or  wheeling  and  hovering  about 
in  the  air,  and  the  ruined  walls  would  reverberate 
with  their  incessant  cawings.  In  this  way  they 
would  linger  about  the  rookery  and  its  vicinity 
for  the  early  part  of  the  morning,  when,  having 
apparently  mustered  all  their  forces,  called  over 
the  roll,  and  determined  upon  their  line  of  march, 
they  one  and  all  would  sail  off  in  a  long  straggling 
flight  to  maraud  the  distant  fields.  They  would 
forage  the  country  for  miles,  and  remain  absent 
all  day,  excepting  now  and  then  a  scout  would 
come  home,  as  if  to  see  that  all  was  well.  To- 
ward night  the  whole  host  might  be  seen,  like  a 
dark  cloud  in  the  distance,  winging  their  way 
homeward.  They  came,  as  it  were,  with  whoop 
and  halloo,  wheeling  high  in  the  air  above  the 
Abbey,  making  various  evolutions  before  they 
alighted,  and  then  keeping  up  an  incessant  caw-  • 


ing  in  the  tree  tops,  until  they  gradually  fell 
asleep. 

It  is  remarked  at  the  Abbey,  that  the  rooks, 
though  they  sally  forth  on  forays  throughout  the 
week,  yet  keep  about  the  venerable  edifice  on 
Sundays,  as  if  they  had  inherited  a  reverence  for 
the  day,  from  their  ancient  confreres,  the  monks. 
Indeed,  a  believer  in  the  metempsychosis  might 
easily  imagine  these  Gothic-looking  birds  to  be 
the  embodied  souls  of  the  ancient  friars  still 
hovering  about  their  sanctified  abode. 

I  dislike  to  disturb  any  point  of  popular  and 
poetic  faith,  and  was  loth,  therefore,  to  question 
the  authenticity  of  this  mysterious  reverence  for 
the  Sabbath  on  the  part  of  the  Newstead  rooks  ; 
but  certainly  in  the  course  of  my  sojourn  in  the 
Rook  Cell,  I  detected  them  in  a  flagrant  out- 
break and  foray  on  a  bright  Sunday  morning. 

Beside  the  occasional  clamor  of  the  rookery, 
this  remote  apartment  was  often  greeted  with 
sounds  of  a  different  kind,  from  the  neighboring 
ruins.  The  great  lancet  window  in  front  of  the 
chapel,  adjoins  the  very  wall  of  the  chamber ; 
and  the  mysterious  sounds  from  it  at  night  have 
been  well  described  by  Lord  Byron  : 

"  Now  loud,  now  frantic, 

The  gale  sweeps  through  its  fretwork,  and  oft  sings 
The  owl  his  anthem,  when  the  silent  quire 
Lie  with  their  hallelujahs  quenched  like  fire. 

"  But  on  the  noontide  of  the  moon,  and  when 

The  wind  is  winged  from  one  point  of  heaven, 

There  moans  a  strange  unearthly  sound,  which  then 
Is  musical — a  dying  accent  driven 

Through  the  huge  arch,  which  soars  and  sinks  again. 
Some  deem  it  but  the  distant  echo  given 

Back  to  the  night  wind  by  the  waterfall, 

And  harmonized  by  the  old  choral  wall. 

"  Others,  that  some  original  shape  or  form, 

Shaped  by  decay  perchance,  hath  given  the  power 
To  this  gray  ruin,  with  a  voice  to  charm. 

Sad,  but  serene,  it  sweeps  o'er  tree  or  tower ; 
The  cause  I  know  not,  nor  can  solve ;  but  such 
The  fact : — I've  heard  it, — once  perhaps  too  much.' 

Never  was  a  traveller  in  quest  of  the  romantic 
in  greater  luck.  I  had  in  sooth,  got  lodged  in 
another  haunted  apartment  of  the  Abbey  ;  for  in 
this  chamber  Lord  Byron  declared  he  had  more 
than  once  been  harassed  at  midnight  by  a  mys- 
terious visitor.  A  black  shapeless  form  would 
sit  cowering  upon  his  bed,  and  after  gazing  at 
him  for  a  time  with  glaring  eyes,  would  roll  off 
and  disappear.  The  same  uncouth  apparition  is 
said  to  have  disturbed  the  slumbers  of  a  newly 
married  couple  that  once  passed  their  honey- 
moon in  this  apartment. 

I  would  observe,  that  the  access  to  the  Rook 
Cell  is  by  a  spiral  stone  staircase  leading  up  into 
it,  as  into  a  turret,  from  the  long  shadowy  corri- 
dor over  the  cloisters,  one  of  the  midnight  walks 
of  the  Goblin  Friar.  Indeed,  to  the  fancies  en- 
gendered in  his  brain  in  this  remote  and  lonely 
apartment,  incorporated  with  the  floating  super- 
stitions of  the  Abbey,  we  are  no  doubt  indebted 
for  the  spectral  scene  in  "  Don  Juan." 

"  Then  as  the  night  was  clear,  though  cold,  he  threw 
His  chamber  door  wide  open — and  went  forth 

Into  a  gallery,  of  sombre  hue, 

Long  furnish'd  with  old  pictures  of  great  worth. 

Of  knights  and  dames,  heroic  and  chaste  too, 
As  doubtless  should  be  people  of  high  birth. 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


505 


"  No  sound  except  the  echo  of  his  sigh 

Or  step  ran  sadly  through  that  antique  house, 
When  suddenly  he  heard,  or  thought  so,  nigh, 

A  supernatural  agent — or  a  mouse, 
Whose  little  nibbling  rustle  will  embarrass 
Most  people,  as  it  plays  along  the  arras. 

"  It  was  no  mouse,  but  lo  !  a  monk,  arrayed 

In  cowl,  and  beads,  and  dusky  garb,  appeared, 

Now  in  the  moonlight,  and  now  lapsed  in  shade  ; 
With  steps  that  trod  as  heavy,  yet  unheard ; 

His  garments  only  a  slight  murmur  made; 
He  moved  as  shadowy  as  the  sisters  weird, 

But  slowly  ;  and  as  he  passed  Juan  by 

Glared,  without  pausing,  on  him  a  bright  eye. 

"  Juan  was  petrified ;   he  had  heard  a  hint 

Of  such  a  spirit  in  these  halls  of  old, 
But  thought,  like  most  men,  there  was  nothing  in't 

Beyond  the  rumor  which. such  spots  unfold, 
Coin'd  from  surviving  superstition's  mint, 

Which  passes  ghosts  in  currency  like  gold, 
But  rarely  seen,  like  gold  compared  with  paper. 
And  did  he  see  this  ?  or  was  it  a  vapor  ? 

"  Once,  twice,  thrice  pass'd,  repass'd — the  thing  of  air, 

Or  earth  beneath,  or  heaven,  or  t'other  place  ; 
And  Juan  gazed  upon  it  with  a  stare, 

Yet  could  not  speak  or  move ;  but,  on  its  base 
As  stands  a  statue,  stood  :  he  felt  his  hair 

Twine  like  a  knot  of  snakes  around  his  face ; 
He    tax'd   his   tongue    for   words,    which   were  not 

granted 
To  ask  the  reverend  person  what  he  wanted. 

"  The  third  time,  after  a  still  longer  pause, 

The  shadow  pass'd  away — but  where  ?  the  hall 

Was  long,  and  thus  far  there  was  no  great  cause 
To  think  his  vanishing  unnatural  : 

Doors  there  were  many,  through  which,  by  the  laws 
Of  physics,  bodies,  whether  short  or  tall. 

Might  come  or  go  ;  but  Juan  could  not  state 

Through  which  the  spectre  seem'd  to  evaporate. 

"  He  stood,  how  long  he  knew  not,  but  it  seem'd 
An  age — expectant,  powerless,  with  his  eyes 

Strain'cl  on  the  spot  where  first  the  figure  gleam'd : 
Then  by  degrees  recall'd  his  energies, 

And  would  have  pass'd  the  whole  off  as  a  dream, 
But  could  not  wake  ;  he  was,  he  did  surmise, 

Waking  already,  and  return'd  at  length 

Back  to  his  chamber,  shorn  of  half  his  strength." 

As  I  have  already  observed,  it  is  difficult  to 
determine  whether  Lord  Byron  was  really  subject 
to  the  superstitious  fancies  which  have  been  im- 
puted to  him,  or  whether  he  merely  amused  him- 
self by  giving  currency  to  them  among  his  do- 
mestics and  dependents.  He  certainly  never 
scrupled  to  express  a  belief  in  supernatural  visi- 
tations, both  verbally  and  in  his  correspondence. 
If  such  were  his  foible,  the  Rook  Cell  was  an 
admirable  place  to  engender  these  delusions.  As 
I  have  lain  awake  at  night,  I  have  heard  all  kinds 
of  mysterious  and  sighing  sounds  from  the  neigh- 
boring ruin.  Distant  footsteps,  too,  and  the 
closing  of  doors  in  remote  parts  of  the  Abbey, 
would  send  hollow  reverberations  and  echoes 
along  the  corridor  and  up  the  spiral  staircase. 
Once,  in  fact,  I  was  roused  by  a  strange  sound 
at  the  very  door  of  my  chamber.  I  threw  it 
open,  and  a  form  "black  and  shapeless  with 
glaring  eyes"  stood  before  me.  It  proved,  how- 
ever, neither  ghost  nor  goblin,  but  my  friend 
Boatswain,  the  great  Newfoundland  dog,  who 
had  conceived  a  companionable  liking  for  me, 
and  occasionally  sought  me  in  my  apartment. 
To  the  hauntings  of  even  such  a  visitant  as  hon- 
est Boatswain  may  we  attribute  some  of  the  mar- 
vellous stories  about  the  Goblin  Friar. 


THE  LITTLE  WHITE  LADY. 

IN  the  course  of  a  morning's  ride  with  Colonel 
Wildman,  about  the  Abbey  lands,  we  found  our- 
selves in  one  of  the  prettiest  little  wild  woods 
imaginable.  The  road  to  it  had  led  us  among 
rocky  ravines  overhung  with  thickets,  and  now 
wound  through  birchen  dingles  and  among  beau- 
tiful groves  and  clumps  of  elms  and  beeches.  A 
limpid  rill  of  sparkling  water,  winding  and  doub- 
ling in  perplexed  mazes,  crossed  our  path  repeat- 
edly, so  as  to  give  the  wood  the  appearance  of 
being  watered  by  numerous  rivulets.  The  soli- 
tary and  romantic  look  of  this  piece  of  woodland, 
and  the  frequent  recurrence  of  its  mazy  stream, 
put  him  in  mind,  Colonel  Wildman  said,  of  the 
little  German  fairy  tale  of  Undine,  in  which  is 
recorded  the  adventures  of  a  knight  who  had 
married  a  water-nymph.  As  he  rode  with  his 
bride  through  her  native  woods,  every  stream 
claimed  her  as  a  relative  ;  one  was  a  brother,  an- 
other an  uncle,  another  a  cousin. 

We  rode  on  amusing  ourselves  with  applying 
this  fanciful  tale  to  the  charming  scenery  around 
us,  until  we  came  to  a  lowly  gray-stone  farm- 
house, of  ancient  date,  situated  in  a  solitary  glen, 
on  the  margin  of  the  brook,  and  overshadowed 
by  venerable  trees.  It  went  by  the  name,  as  I 
was  told,  of  the  Weir  Mill  farmhouse.  With 
this  rustic  mansion  was  connected  a  litte  tale  of 
real  life,  some  circumstances  of  which  were  re- 
lated to  me  on  the  spot,  and  others  I  collected  in 
the  course  of  my  sojourn  at  the  Abbey. 

Not  long  after  Colonel  Wildman  had  purchased 
the  estate  of  Newstead,  he  made  it  a  visit  for  the 
purpose  of  planning  repairs  and  alterations.  As 
he  was  rambling  one  evening,  about  dusk,  in 
company  with  his  architect,  through  this  little 
piece  of  woodland,  he  was  struck  with  its  peculiar 
characteristics,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  com- 
pared it  to  the  haunted  wood  of  Undine.  While 
lie  was  making  the  remark,  a  small  female  figure 
in  white,  flitted  by  without  speaking  a  word,  or 
indeed  appearing  to  notice  them.  Her  step  was 
scarcely  heard  as  she  passed,  and  her  form  was 
indistinct  in  the  twilight. 

"What  a  figure  for  a  fairy  or  sprite!"  ex- 
claimed Colonel  Wildman.  "How  much  a  poet 
or  a  romance  writer  would  make  of  such  an  ap- 
parition, at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a  place  !  " 

He  began  to  congratulate  himself  upon  having 
some  elfin  inhabitant  for  his  haunted  wood,  when, 
on  proceeding  a  few  paces,  he  found  a  white  frill 
lying  in  the  path,  which  had  evidently  fallen 
from  the  figure  that  had  just  passed. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  after  all,  this  is  neither 
sprite  nor  fairy,  but  a  being  of  flesh,  and  blood, 
and  muslin." 

Continuing  on,  he  came  to  where  the  road 
passed  by  an  old  mill  in  front  of  the  Abbey.  The 
people  of  the  mill  were  at  the  door.  He  paused 
and  inquired  whether  any  visitor  had  been  at  the 
Abbey,  but  was  answered  in  the  negative. 

"Has  nobody  passed  by  here  ?  " 

"  No  one,  sir." 

"That's  strange!  Surely  I  met  a  female  in 
white,  who  must  have  passed  along  this  path." 

"  Oh,  sir,  you  mean  the  Little  White  Lady — 
oh,  yes,  she  passed  by  here  not  long  since." 

"  The  Little  White  Lady!  And  pray  who  is 
the  Little  White  Lady  ?  " 

"  Why,  sir,  that  nobody  knows ;  she  lives  in 
the  Weir  Mill  farmhouse,  down  in  the  skirts  of 
the  wood.  She  comes  to  the  Abbey  every  morn- 
ing, keeps  about  it  all  day,  and  goes  away  at. 


506 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


night.  She  speaks  to  nobody,  and  we  are  rather 
shy  of  her,  for  we  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
her." 

Colonel  Wildman  now  concluded  that  it  was 
some  artist  or  amateur  employed  in  making 
sketches  of  the  Abbey,  and  thought  no  more 
about  the  matter.  He  went  to  London,  and  was 
absent  for  some  time.  In  the  interim,  his  sister, 
who  was  newly  married,  came  with  her  husband 
to  pass  the  honeymoon  at  the  Abbey.  The 
Little  White  Lady  still  resided  in  the  Weir  Mill 
farmhouse,  on  the  border  of  the  haunted  wood, 
and  continued  her  visits  daily  to  the  Abbey.  Her 
dress  was  always  the  same,  a  white  gown  with  a 
little  black  spencer  or  bodice,  and  a  white  hat 
with  a  short  veil  that  screened  the  upper  part  of 
her  countenance.  Her  habits  were  shy,  lonely, 
and  silent ;  she  spoke  to  no  one,  and  sought  no 
companionship,  excepting  with  the  Newfoundland 
dog  that  had  belonged  to  Lord  Byron.  His 
friendship  she  secured  by  caressing  him  and  oc- 
casionally bringing  him  food,  and  he  became  the 
companion  of  her  solitary  walks.  She  avoided 
all  strangers,  and  wandered  about  the  retired 
parts  of  the  garden  ;  sometimes  sitting  for  hours 
by  the  tree  on  which  Lord  Byron  had  carved  his 
name,  or  at  the  foot  of  the  monument  which  he 
had  erected  among  the  ruins  of  the  chapel. 
Sometimes  she  read,  sometimes  she  wrote  with  a 
pencil  on  a  small  slate  which  she  carried  with 
her,  but  much  of  her  time  was  passed  in  a  kind 
of  reverie. 

The  people  about  the  place  gradually  became 
accustomed  to  her,  and  suffered  her  to  wander 
about  unmolested  ;  their  distrust  of  her  subsided 
on  discovering  that  most  of  her  peculiar  and 
lonely  habits  arose  from  the  misfortune  of  being 
deaf  and  dumb.  Still  she  was  regarded  with 
some  degree  of  shyness,  for  it  was  the  common 
opinion  that  she  was  not  exactly  in  her  right 
mind. 

Colonel  Wildman's  sister  was  informed  of  all 
these  circumstances  by  the  servants  of  the  Abbey, 
among  whom  the  Little  White  Lady  was  a  theme 
of  frequent  discussion.  The  Abbey  and  its  mo- 
nastic environs  being  haunted  ground,  it  was 
natural  that  a  mysterious  visitant  of  the  kind, 
and  one  supposed  to  be  under  the  influence  of 
mental  hallucination,  should  inspire  awe  in  a 
person  unaccustomed  to  the  place.  As  Colonel 
Wildman's  sister  was  one  day  walking  along  a 
broad  terrace  of  the  garden,  she  suddenly  beheld 
the  Little  White  Lady  coming  toward  her,  and, 
in  the  surprise  and  agitation  of  the  moment, 
turned  and  ran  into  the  house. 

Day  after  day  now  elapsed,  and  nothing  more 
was  seen  of  this  singular  personage.  Colonel 
Wildman  at  length  arrived  at  the  Abbey,  and  his 
sister  mentioned  to  him  her  rencounter  and  fright 
in  the  garden.  It  brought  to  mind  his  own  ad- 
venture with  the  Little  White  Lady  in  the  wood 
of  Undine,  and  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  she 
still  continued  her  mysterious  wanderings  about 
the  Abbey.  The  mystery  was  soon  explained. 
Immediately  after  his  arrival  he  received  a  letter 
written  in  the  most  minute  and  delicate  female 
hand,  and  in  elegant  and  even  eloquent  language. 
It  was  from  the  Little  White  Lady.  She  had 
noticed  and  been  shocked  by  the  abrupt  retreat 
of  Colonel  Wildman's  sister  on  seeing  her  in  the 
garden  walk,  and  expressed  her  unhappiness  at 
being  an  object  of  alarm  to  any  of  his  family. 
She  explained  the  motives  of  her  frequent  and 
long  visits  to  the  Abbey,  which  proved  to  be  a 
singularly  enthusiastic  idolatry  cf  the  r?nius  of 


Lord  Byron,  and  a  solitary  and  passionate  de- 
light in  haunting  the  scenes  he  had  once  in- 
habited. She  hinted  at  the  infirmities  which  cut 
her  off  from  all  social  communion  with  her  fellow 
beings,  and  at  her  situation  in  life  as  desolate 
and  bereaved  ;  and  concluded  by  hoping  that  he 
would  not  deprive  her  of  her  only  comfort,  the 
permission  of  visiting  the  Abbey  occasionally,  and 
lingering  about  the  walks  and  gardens.  • 

Colonel  Wildman  now  made  further  inquiries 
concerning  her,  and  found  that  she  was  a  great 
favorite  with  the  people  of  the  farmhouse  where 
she  boarded,  from  the  gentleness,  quietude,  and 
innocence  of  her  manners.  When  at  home,  she 
passed  the  greater  part  of  her  time  in  a  small  sit- 
ting-room, reading  and  writing. 

Colonel  Wildman  immediately  called  on  her  at 
the  farmhouse.  She  received  him  with  some 
agitation  and  embarrassment,  but  his  frankness 
and  urbanity  soon  put  her  at  her  ease.  She  was 
past  the  bloom  of  youth,  a  pale,  nervous  little 
being,  and  apparently  deficient  in  most  of  her 
physical  organs,  for  in  addition  to  being  deaf  and 
dumb,  she  saw  but  imperfectly.  They  carried 
on  a  communication  by  means  of  a  small  slate, 
which  she  drew  out  of  her  reticule,  and  on  which 
they  wrote  their  questions  and  replies.  In  writ- 
ing or  reading  she  always  approached  her  eyes 
close  to  the  written  characters. 

This  defective  organization  was  accompanied 
by  a  morbid  sensibility  almost  amounting  to  dis- 
ease. She  had  not  been  born  deaf  and  dumb  ; 
but  had  lost  her  hearing  in  a  fit  of  sickness,  and 
with  it  the  power  of  distinct  articulation.  Her 
life  had  evidently  been  checkered  and  unhappy ; 
she  was  apparently  without  family  or  friend,  a 
lonely,  desolate  being,  cut  off  from  society  by 
her  infirmities. 

"  I  am  always  among  strangers,"  she  said,  "  as 
much  so  in  my  native  country  as  I  could  be  in 
the  remotest  parts  of  the  world.  By  all  I  am 
considered  as  a  stranger  and  an  alien  ;  no  one 
will  acknowledge  any  connection  with  me.  I 
seem  not  to  belong  to  the  human  species." 

Such  were  the  circumstances  that  Colonel 
Wildman  was  able  to  draw  forth  in  the  course  of 
his  conversation,  and  they  strongly  interested 
him  in  favor  of  this  poor  enthusiast.  He  was  too 
devout  an  admirer  of  Lord  Byron  himself,  not  to 
sympathize  in  this  extraordinary  zeal  of  one  of  his 
votaries,  and  he  entreated  her  to  renew  her  visits 
at  the  Abbey,  assuring  her  that  the  edifice  and 
its  grounds  should  always  be  open  to  her. 

The  Little  White  Lady  now  resumed  her  daily 
walks  in  the  Monk's  Garden,  and  her  occasional 
seat  at  the  foot  of  the  monument  ;  she  was  shy 
and  diffident,  however,  and  evidently  fearful  of 
intruding.  If  any  persons  were  walking  in  the 
garden  she  would  avoid  them,  and  seek  the  most 
remote  parts  ;  and  was  seen  like  a  sprite,  only  by 
gleams  and  glimpses,  as  she  glided  among  the 
groves  and  thickets.  Many  of  her  feelings  and 
fancies,  during  these  lonely  rambles,  were  em- 
bodied in  verse,  noted  down  on  her  tablet,  and 
transferred  to  paper  in  the  evening  on  her  return 
to  the  farmhouse.  Some  of  these  verses  now  lie 
before  me,  written  with  considerable  harmony  of 
versification,  but  chiefly  curious  as  being  illustra- 
tive of  that  singular  and  enthusiastic  idolatry  with 
which  she  almost  worshipped  the  genius  of  Byron, 
or  rather,  the  romantic  image  of  him  formed  by 
her  imagination. 

Two  or  three  extracts  may  not  be  unacceptable. 
The  following  are  from  a  long  rhapsody  addressed 
to  Lord  Byron  ; 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


507 


"  By  what  dread  charm  thou  rulest  the  mind 

It  is  not  given  for  us  to  know  ; 
We  glow  with  feelings  undefined, 

Nor  can  explain  from  whence  they  flow. 

"  Not  that  fond  love  which  passion  breathes 

And  youthful  hearts  inflame  ; 
The  soul  a  nobler  homage  gives, 
And  bows  to  thy  great  name. 

"  Oft  have  we  own'd  the  muses'  skill, 

And  proved  the  power  of  song, 
But  sweeter  notes  ne'er  woke  the  thrill 
That  solely  to  thy  verse  belong. 

"This — but  far  more,  for  thee  we  prove, 
Something  that  bears  a  holier  name, 
Than  the  pure  dream  of  early  love, 
Or  friendship's  nobler  flame. 

'  Something  divine — Oh  !  what  it  is 

Thy  muse  alone  can  tell, 
So  sweet,  but  so  profound  the  bliss 
We  dread  to  break  the  spell." 

This  singular  and  romantic  infatuation,  for 
such  it  might  truly  be  called,  was  entirely  spirit- 
ual and  ideal,  for,  as  she  herself  declares  in 
another  of  her  rhapsodies,  she  had  never  beheld 
Lord  Byron ;  he  was,  to  her,  a  mere  phantom  of 
the  brain. 

"  I  ne'er  have  drunk  thy  glance — thy  form 

My  earthly  eye  has  never  seen, 
Though  oft  when  fancy's  visions  warm, 
It  greets  me  in  some  blissful  dream. 

"  Greets  me,  as  greets  the  sainted  seer 

Some  radiant  visitant  from  high, 
When  heaven's  own  strains  break  on  his  ear, 
And  wrap  his  soul  in  ecstasy." 

Her  poetical  wanderings  and  musings  were  not 
confined  to  the  Abbey  grounds,  but  extended  to 
all  parts  of  the  neighborhood  connected  with  the 
memory  of  Lord  Byron,  and  among  the  rest  to 
the  groves  and  gardens  of  Annesley  Hall,  the 
seat  of  his  early  passion  for  Miss  Chaworth. 
One  of  her  poetical  effusions  mentions  her  having 
seen  from  Howet's  Hill  in  Annesley  Park,  a 
"  sylph-like  form,"  in  a  car  drawn  by  milk-white 
horses,  passing  by  the  foot  of  the  hill,  who  proved 
to  be  the  "favorite  child,"  seen  by  Lord  Byron, 
in  his  memorable  interview  with  Miss  Chaworth 
after  her  marriage.  That  favorite  child  was  now 
a  blooming  girl  approaching  to  womanhood,  and 
seems  to  have  understood  something  of  the  char- 
acter and  story  of  this  singular  visitant,  and  to 
have  treated  her  with  gentle  sympathy.  The 
Little  White  Lady  expresses,  in  touching  terms, 
in  a  note  to  her  verses,  her  sense  of  this  gentle 
courtesy.  "  The  benevolent  condescension," 
says  she,  "  of  that  amiable  and  interesting  young 
lady,  to  the  unfortunate  writer  of  these  simple 
lines  will  remain  engraved  upon  a  grateful  mem- 
ory, till  the  vital  spark  that  now  animates  a  heart 
that  too  sensibly  feels,  and  too  seldom  experi- 
ences such  kindness,  is  for  ever  extinct." 

In  the  meantime,  Colonel  Wildman,  in  occa- 
sional interviews,  had  obtained  further  particulars 
of  the  story  of  the  stranger,  and  found  that  pov- 
erty was  added  to  the  other  evils  of  her  forlorn 
and  isolated  state.  Her  name  was  Sophia  Hyatt. 
She  was  the  daughter  of  a  country  bookseller, 
but  both  her  parents  had  died  several  years  be- 
fore. At  their  death,  her  sole  dependence  was 
upon  her  brother,  who  allowed  her  a  small  an- 


nuity on  her  share  of  the  property  left  by  their 
father,  and  which  remained  in  his  hands.  Her 
brother,  who  was  a  captain  of  a  merchant  vessel, 
removed  with  his  family  to  America,  leaving  her 
almost  alone  in  the  world,  for  she  had  no  other 
relative  in  England  but  a  cousin,  of  whom  she 
knew  almost  nothing.  She  received  her  annuity 
regularly  for  a  time,  but  unfortunately  her  brother 
died  in  the  West  Indies,  leaving  his  affairs  in 
confusion,  and  his  estate  overhung  by  several 
commercial  claims,  which  threatened  to  swallow 
up  the  whole.  Under  these  disastrous  circum- 
stances, her  annuity  suddenly  ceased  ;  she  had 
in  vain  tried  to  obtain  a  renewal  of  it  from  the 
widow,  or  even  an  account  of  the  state  of  her 
brother's  affairs.  Her  letters  for  three  years  past 
had  remained  unanswered,  and  she  would  have 
been  exposed  to  the  horrors  of  the  most  abject 
want,  but  for  a  pittance  quarterly  doled  out  to 
her  by  her  cousin  in  England. 

Colonel  Wildman  entered  with  characteristic 
benevolence  into  the  story  of  her  troubles.  He 
saw  that  she  was  a  helpless,  unprotected  being, 
unable,  from  her  infirmities  and  her  ignorance 
of  the  world,  to  prosecute  her  just  claims.  He 
obtained  from  her  the  address  of  her  relations  in 
America,  and  of  the  commercial  connection  of 
her  brother ;  promised,  through  the  medium  of 
his  own  agents  in  Liverpool,  to  institute  an  in- 
quiry into  the  situation  of  her  brother's  affairs, 
and  to  forward  any  letters  she  might  write,  so  as 
to  insure  their  reaching  their  place  of  destination. 

Inspired  with  some  faint  hopes,  the  Little 
White  Lady  continued  her  wanderings  about  the 
Abbey  and  its  neighborhood.  The  delicacy  and 
timidity  of  her  deportment  increased  the  inter- 
est already  felt  for  her  by  Mrs.  Wildman.  That 
lady,  with  her  wonted  kindness,  sought  to  make 
acquaintance  with  her,  and  inspire  her  with  con- 
fidence. She  invited  her  into  the  Abbey  ;  treated 
her  with  the  most  delicate  attention,  and,  seeing 
that  she  had  a  great  turn  for  reading,  offered  her 
the  loan  of  any  books  in  her  possession.  She 
borrowed  a  few,  particularly  the  works  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  but  soon  returned  them  ;  the  writ- 
ings of  Lord  Byron  seemed  to  form  the  only 
study  in  which  she  delighted,  and  when  not  occu- 
pied in  reading  those,  her  time  was  passed  in 
passionate  meditations  on  his  genius.  Her  en- 
thusiasm spread  an  ideal  world  around  her  in 
which  she  moved  and  existed  as  in  a  dream,  for- 
getful at  times  of  the  real  miseries  which  beset 
her  in  her  mortal  state. 

One  of  her  rhapsodies  is,  however,  of  a  very 
melancholy  cast ;  anticipating  her  own  death, 
which  her  fragile  frame  and  growing  infirmities 
rendered  but  too  probable.  It  is  headed  by  the 
following  paragraph. 

"  Written  beneath  the  tree  on  Crowholt  Hill, 
where  it  is  my  wish  to  be  interred  (if  I  should  die 
in  Newstead)." 

I  subjoin  a  few  of  the  stanzas  :  they  are  ad- 
dressed to  Lord  Byron  : 


"Thou,  while  thou  stand's!  beneath  this  tree, 

While  by  thy  foot  this  earth  is  press'd, 
Think,  here  the  wanderer's  ashes  be — 
And  wilt  thou  say,  sweet  be  thy  rest ! 


"  'Twould  add  even  to  a  seraph's  bliss, 

Whose  sacred  charge  thou  then  may 
To  guide — to  guard — yes,  Byron  !  yes. 
That  glory  is  reserved  for  me. 


508 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


"  If  woes  below  may  plead  above 

A  frail  heart's  errors,  mine  forgiven, 

To  that  '  high  world  '  I  soar,  where  'love 

Surviving  '  forms  the  bliss  of  Heaven. 

"  O  wheresoe'er,  in  realms  above, 

Assign'd  my  spirit's  new  abode, 
'Twill  watch  thee  with  a  seraph's  love, 
Till  thou  too  soar'st  to  meet  thy  God. 

"  And  here,  beneath  this  lonely  tree — 

Beneath  the  earth  thy  feet  have  press'd, 
My  dust  shall  sleep — once  dear  to  thee 
These  scenes — here  may  the  wanderer  rest  ! " 

In  the  midst  of  her  reveries  and  rhapsodies, 
tidings  reached  Newstead  of  the  untimely  death 
of  Lord  Byron.  How  they  were  received  by  this 
humble  but  passionate  devotee  I  could  not  as- 
certain ;  her  life  was  too  obscure  and  lonely  to 
furnish  much  personal  anecdote,  but  among  her 
poetical  effusions  are  several  written  in  a  broken 
and  irregular  manner,  and  evidently  under  great 
agitation. 

The  following  sonnet  is  the  most  coherent  and 
most  descriptive  of  her  peculiar  state  of  mind  : 

"  Well,  thou  art  gone — but  what  wert  thou  to  me  ? 

I  never  saw  thee — never  heard  thy  voice, 
Yet  my  soul  seemed  to  claim  affiance  with  thee. 

The  Roman  bard  has  sung  of  fields  Elysian, 
Where  the  soul  sojourns  ere  she  visits  earth  ; 

Sure  it  was  there  my  spirit  knew  thee,  Byron  ! 
Thine  image  haunteth  me  like  a  past  vision  ; 

It  hath  enshrined  itself  in  my  heart's  core  ; 
'Tis  my  soul's  soul — it  fills  the  whole  creation. 

For  I  do  live  but  in  that  world  ideal 
Which  the  muse  peopled  with  her  bright  fancies, 

And  of  that  world  thou  art  a  monarch  real, 
Nor  ever  earthly  sceptre  ruled  a  kingdom, 

With  sway  so  potent  as  thy  lyre,  the   mind's  do- 
minion. " 

Taking  all  the  circumstances  here  adduced 
into  consideration,  it  is  evident  that  this  strong 
excitement  and  exclusive  occupation  of  the 
mind  upon  one  subject,  operating  upon  a  sys» 
tern  in  a  high  state  of  morbid  irritability,  was 
in  danger  of  producing  that  species  of  mental 
derangement  called  monomania.  The  poor  little 
being  was  aware,  herself,  of  the  dangers  of  her 
case,  and  alluded  to  it  in  the  following  passage  of 
a  letter  to  Colonel  Wildman,  which  presents  one 
of  the  most  lamentable  pictures  of  anticipated 
evil  ever  conjured  up  by  the  human  mind. 

"  I  have  long,"  writes  she,  "  too  sensibly  felt 
the  decay  of  my  mental  faculties,  which  I  con- 
sid£r  as  the  certain  indication  of  that  dreaded 
calamity  which  I  anticipate  with  such  terror.  A 
strange  idea  has  long  haunted  my  mind,  that 
Swift's  dreadful  fate  will  be  mine.  It  is  not  ordi- 
nary insanity  I  so  much  apprehend,  but  some- 
thing worse — absolute  idiotism  ! 

"Osir!  think  what  I  must  suffer  from  such 
an  idea,  without  an  earthly  friend  to  look  up  to 
for  protection  in  such  a  wretched  state — exposed 
to  the  indecent  insults  which  such  spectacles  al- 
ways excite.  But  I  dare  not  dwell  upon  the 
thought  ;  it  would  facilitate  the  event  I  so  much 
dread,  and  contemplate  with  horror.  Yet  I  can- 
not help  thinking  from  people's  behavior  to  me 
at  times,  and  from  after  reflections  upon  my  con- 
duct, that  symptoms  of  the  disease  are  already 
apparent." 

Five  months  passed  away,  but  the  letters  writ- 
ten by  her,  and  forwarded  by  Colonel  Wildman 


to  America  relative  to  her  brother's  affairs,  re- 
mained unanswered  ;  the  inquiries  instituted  by 
the  Colonel  had  as  yet  proved  equally  fruitless. 
A  deeper  gloom  and  despondency  now  seemed  to 
gather  upon  her  mind.  She  began  to  talk  of 
leaving  Newstead,  and  repairing  to  London,  in 
the  vague  hope  of  obtaining  relief  or  redress  by 
instituting  some  legal  process  to  ascertain  and 
enforce  the  will  of  her  deceased  brother.  Weeks 
elapsed,  however,  before  she  could  summon  up 
sufficient  resolution  to  tear  herself  away  from  the 
scene  of  poetical  fascination.  The  following 
simple  stanzas,  selected  from  a  number  written 
about  the  time,  express,  in  humble  rhymes,  the 
melancholy  that  preyed  upon  her  spirits  : 

"  Farewell  to  thee,  Newstead,  thy  time-riven  towers, 
Shall  meet  the  fond  gaze  of  the  pilgrim  no  more ; 
No  more  may  she  roam  through  thy  walks  and  thy 

bowers, 
Nor  muse  in  thy  cloisters  at  eve's  pensive  hour. 

"  Oh,  how  shall  I  leave  you,  ye  hills  and  ye  dales, 

When  lost  in  sad  musing,  though  sad  not  unblest, 
A  lone  pilgrim  I  stray — Ah  !  in  these  lonely  vales, 
I  hoped,  vainly  hoped,  that  the  pilgrim  might  rest. 

"  Yet  rest  is  far  distant — in  the  dark  vale  of  death, 

Alone  I  shall  find  it,  an  outcast  forlorn — 
But  hence  vain  complaints,  though  by  fortune  bereft 
Of  all  that  could  solace  in  life's  early  morn. 

"  Is  not  man  from  his  birth  doomed  a  pilgrim  to  roam 
O'er  the  world's  dreary  wilds,  whence  by  fortune's 

rude  gust, 

In  his  path,  if  some  flowret  of  joy  chanced  to  bloom, 
It  is  torn  and  its  foliage  laid  low  in  the  dust." 

At  length  she  fixed  upon  a  day  for  her  depar- 
ture. On  the  day  previous,  she  paid  a  farewell 
visit  to  the  Abbey  ;  wandering  over  every  part  of 
the  grounds  and  garden  ;  pausing  and  lingering 
at  every  place  particularly  associated  with  the 
recollection  of  Lord  Byron  ;  and  passing  a  long 
time  seated  at  the  foot  of  the  monument,  which 
she  used  to  call  "  her  altar."  Seeking  Mrs.  Wild- 
man, she  placed  in  her  hands  a  sealed  packet, 
with  an  earnest  request  that  she  would  not  open 
it  until  after  her  departure  from  the  neighborhood. 
This  done,  she  took  an  affectionate  leave  of  her, 
and  with  many  bitter  tears  bade  farewell  to  the 
Abbey. 

On  retiring  to  her  room  that  evening,  Mrs. 
Wildman  could  not  refrain  from  inspecting  the 
legacy  of  this  singular  being.  On  opening  the 
packet,  she  found  a  number  of  fugitive  poems, 
written  in  a  most  delicate  and  minute  hand,  and 
evidently  the  fruits  of  her  reveries  and  medita- 
tions during  her  lonely  rambles  ;  from  these  the 
foregoing  extracts  have  been  made.  These  were 
accompanied  by  a  voluminous  letter,  written  with 
the  pathos  and  eloquence  of  genuine  feeling,  and 
depicting  her  peculiar  situation  and  singular  state 
of  mind  in  dark  but  painful  colors. 

"The  last  time,"  says  she,  "  that  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  you,  in  the  garden,  you  asked 
me  why  I  leave  Newstead ;  when  I  told  you  my 
circumstances  obliged  me,  the  expression  of  con- 
cern which  I  fancied  I  observed  in  your  look  and 
manner  would  have  encouraged  me  to  have  been 
explicit  at  the  time,  but  from  my  inability  of  ex- 
pressing myself  verbally." 

She  then  goes  on  to  detail  precisely  her  pecuni- 
ary circumstances,  by  which  it  appears  that  her 
whole  dependence  for  subsistence  was  on  an  al- 
lowance of  thirteen  pounds  a  year  from  her  cousin, 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


509 


who  bestowed  it  through  a  feeling  of  pride,  lest 
his  relative  should  come  upon  the  parish.  During 
two  years  this  pittance  had  been  augmented  from 
other  sources,  to  twenty-three  pounds,  but  the 
last  year  it  had  shrunk  within  its  original  bounds, 
and  was  yielded  so  grudgingly,  that  she  could  not 
feel  sure  of  its  continuance  from  one  quarter  to 
another.  More  than  once  it  had  been  withheld 
on  slight  pretences,  and  she  was  in  constant 
dread  lest  it  should  be  entirely  withdrawn. 

"  It  is  with  extreme  reluctance,"  observes  she, 
"  that  I  have  so  far  exposed  my  unfortunate 
situation ;  but  I  thought  you  expected  to  know 
something  more  of  it,  and  I  feared  that  Colonel 
Wildman,  deceived  by  appearances,  might  think 
that  I  am  in  no  immediate  want,  and  that  the  de- 
lay of  a  few  weeks,  or  months,  respecting  the 
inquiry,  can  be  of  no  material  consequence.  It 
is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  success  of  the  busi- 
ness that  Colonel  Wildman  should  know  the  exact 
state  of  my  circumstances  without  reserve,  that  he 
may  be  enabled  to  make  a  correct  representation 
of  them  to  any  gentleman  whom  he  intends  to  in- 
terest, who,  I  presume,  if  they  are  not  of  America 
themselves,  have  some  connections  there,  through 
whom  my  friends  may  be  convinced  of  the  reality 
of  my  distress,  if  they  pretend  to  doubt  it,  as  I 
suppose  they  do.  But  to  be  more  explicit  is  im- 
possible ;  it  would  be  too  humiliating  to  par- 
ticularize the  circumstances  of  the  embarrassment 
in  which  I  am  unhappily  involved  —  my  utter 
destitution.  To  disclose  all  might,  too,  be  liable 
to  an  inference  which  I  hope  I  am  not  so  void  of 
delicacy,  of  natural  pride,  as  to  endure  the 
thought  of.  Pardon  me,  madam,  for  thus  giving 
trouble  where  I  have  no  right  to  do — compelled 
to  throw  myself  upon  Colonel  Wildman's  hu- 
manity, to  entreat  his  earnest  exertions  in  my 
behalf,  for  it  is  now  my  only  resource.  Yet  do  not 
too  much  despise  me  for  thus  submitting  to  im- 
perious necessity — it  is  not  love  of  life,  believe 
me  it  is  not,  nor  anxiety  for  its  preservation.  I 
cannot  say,  '  There  are  things  that  make  the 
world  dear  to  me,' — for  in  the  world  there  is  not 
an  object  to  make  me  wish  to  linger  here  another 
hour,  could  I  find  that  rest  and  peace  in  the  grave 
which  I  have  never  found  on  earth,  and  I  fear 
will  be  denied  me  there." 

Another  part  of  her  letter  develops  more  com- 
pletely the  dark  despondency  hinted  at  in  the 
conclusion  of  the  foregoing  extract — and  presents 
a  lamentable  instance  of  a  mind  diseased,  which 
sought  in  vain,  amidst  sorrow  and  calamity,  the 
sweet  consolations  of  religious  faith. 

"  That  my  existence  has  hitherto  been  pro- 
longed," says  she,  "often  beyond  what  I  have 
thought  to  have  been  its  destined  period,  is 
astonishing  to  myself.  Often  when  my  situation 
has  been  as  desperate,  as  hopeless,  or  more  so, 
if  possible,  than  it  is  at  present,  some  unexpected 
interposition  of  Providence  has  rescued  me  from 
a  fate  that  has  appeared  inevitable.  I  do  not 
particularly  allude  to  recent  circumstances  or  lat- 
ter years,  for  from  my  earlier  years  I  have  been 
the  child  of  Providence — then  why  should  I  dis- 
trust its  care  now  ?  I  do  not  distrust  it — neither 
do  I  trust  it.  I  feel  perfectly  unanxious,  uncon- 
cerned, and  indifferent  as  to  the  future;  but  this 
is  not  trust  in  Providence — -not  that  trust  which 
alone  claims  its  protection.  I  know  this  is  a 
blamable  indifference — it  is  more — for  it  reaches 
to  the  interminable  future.  It  turns  almost  with 
disgust  from  the  bright  prospects  which  religion 
offers  for  the  consolation  and  support  of  the 
wretched,  and  to  which  I  was  early  taught,  by  aa 


almost  adored  mother,  to  look  forward  with  hope 
and  joy ;  but  to  me  they  can  afford  no  consola- 
tion. Not  that  I  doubt  the  sacred  truths  that 
religion  inculcates.  I  cannot  doubt — though  I 
confess  I  have  sometimes  tried  to  do  so,  because 
I  no  longer  wish  for  that  immortality  of  which  it 
assures  us.  My  only  wish  now  is  for  rest  and 
peace — endless  rest.  '  For  rest — but  not  to  feel 
'tis  rest,'  but  I  cannot  delude  myself  with  the 
hope  that  such  rest  will  be  my  lot.  I  feel  an  in- 
ternal evidence,  stronger  than  any  arguments  that 
reason  or  religion  can  enforce,  that  I  have  that 
within  me  which  is  imperishable ;  that  drew  not 
its  origin  from  the  '  clod  of  the  valley.'  With 
this  conviction,  but  without  a  hope  to  brighten 
the  prospect  of  that  dread  future  : 

"  '  I  dare  not  look  beyond  the  tomb, 
Yet  cannot  hope  for  peace  before.' 

"  Such  an  unhappy  frame  of  mind,  I  am  sure, 
madam,  must  excite  your  commiseration.  It  is 
perhaps  owing,  in  part  at  least,  to  the  solitude  in 
which  I  have  lived,  I  may  say,  even  in  the  midst 
of  society  ;  when  I  have  mixed  in  it ;  as  my  infir- 
mities entirely  exclude  me  from  that  sweet  inter- 
course of  kindred  spirits — that  sweet  solace  of  re- 
fined conversation  ;  the  little  intercourse  I  have 
at  any  time  with  those  around  me  cannot  be 
termed  conversation — they  are  not  kindred  spirits 
— and  even  where  circumstances  have  associated 
me  (but  rarely  indeed)  with  superior  and  culti- 
vated minds,  who  have  not  disdained  to  admit 
me  to  their  society,  they  could  not  by  all  their 
generous  efforts,  even  in  early  youth,  lure  from 
my  dark  soul  the  thoughts  that  loved  to  lie  buried 
there,  nor  inspire  me  with  the  courage  to  attempt 
their  disclosure  ;  and  yet  of  all  the  pleasures  of 
polished  life  which  fancy  has  often  pictured  to 
me  in  such  vivid  colors,  there  is  not  one  that  I 
have  so  ardently  coveted  as  that  sweet  reciproca- 
tion of  ideas,  the  supreme  bliss  of  enlightened 
minds  in  the  hour  of  social  converse.  But  this  I 
knew  was  not  decreed  for  me — 

"  '  Yet  this  was  in  my  nature — ' 

but  since  the  loss  of  my  hearing  I  have  always 
been  incapable  of  verbal  conversation.  I  need 
not,  however,  inform  you,  madam,  of  this.  At 
the  first  interview  with  which  you  favored  me, 
you  quickly  discovered  my  peculiar  unhappiness 
in  this  respect ;  you  perceived  from  my  manner 
that  any  attempt  to  draw  me  into  conversation 
would  be  in  vain — had  it  been  otherwise,  per- 
haps you  would  not  have  disdained  now  and 
then  to  have  soothed  the  lonely  wanderer  with 
yours.  I  have  sometimes  fancied  when  I  have 
seen  you  in  the  walk,  that  you  seemed  to  wish  to 
encourage  me  to  throw  myself  in  your  way.  Par- 
don me  if  my  imagination,  too  apt  to  beguile  me 
with  such  dear  illusions,  has  deceived  me  into  too 
presumptuous  an  idea  here.  You  must  have  ob- 
served that  I  generally  endeavored  to  avoid  both 
you  and  Colonel  Wildman.  It  was  to  spare  your 
generous  hearts  the  pain  of  witnessing  distress 
you  could  not  alleviate.  Thus  cut  off,  as  it  were, 
from  all  human  society,  I  have  been  compelled 
to  live  in  a  world  of  my  own,  and  certainly  with 
the  beings  with  which  my  world  is  peopled,  I  am 
at  no  loss  to  converse.  But,  though  I  love  soli- 
tude and  am  never  in  want  of  subjects  to  amuse 
my  fancy,  yet  solitude  too  much  indulged  in  must 
necessarily  have  an  unhappy  effect  upon  the  mind, 
which,  when  left  to  seek  for  resources  wholly 


510 


NEWSTEAD   ABBEY. 


within  itself  will,  unavoidably,  in  hours  of  gloom 
and  despondency,  brood  over  corroding  thoughts 
that  prey  upon  the  spirits,  and  sometimes  termi- 
nate in  confirmed  misanthropy — especially  with 
those  who,  from  constitution,  or  early  misfor- 
tunes, are  inclined  to  melancholy,  and  to  view 
human  nature  in  its  dark  shades.  And  have  I 
not  cause  for  gloomy  reflections  ?  The  utter 
loneliness  of  my  lot  would  alone  have  rendered 
existence  a  curse  to  one  whom  nature  has  formed 
glowing  with  all  the  warmth  of  social  affection, 
yet  without  an  object  on  which  to  place  it — with- 
out one  natural  connection,  one  earthly  friend  to 
appeal  to,  to  shield  me  from  the  contempt,  indig- 
nities, and  insults,  to  which  my  deserted  situation 
continually  exposed  me." 

I  am  giving  long  extracts  from  this  letter,  yet  I 
cannot  refrain  from  subjoining  another  letter, 
which  depicts  her  feelings  with  respect  to  New- 
stead. 

"  Permit  me,  madam,  again  to  request  your 
and  Colonel  Wildman's  acceptance  of  these  ac- 
knowledgments which  I  cannot  too  often  repeat, 
for  your  unexampled  goodness  to  a  rude  stranger. 
I  know  I  ought  not  to  have  taken  advantage  of 
your  extreme  good  nature  so  frequently  as  I  have. 
I  should  have  absented  myself  from  your  garden 
during  the  stay  of  the  company  at  the  Abbey, 
but,  as  I  knew  I  must  be  gone  long  before  they 
would  leave  it,  I  could  not  deny  myself  the  indul- 
gence, as  you  so  freely  gave  me  your  permission  to 
continue  my  walks,  but  now  they  are  at  an  end. 
I  have  taken  my  last  farewell  of  every  dear  and 
interesting  spot,  which  I  now  never  hope  to  see 
again,  unless  my  disembodied  spirit  may  be  per- 
mitted to  revisit  them. — Yet  O  !  if  Providence 
should  enable  me  again  to  support  myself  with 
any  degree  of  respectability,  and  you  should 
grant  me  some  little  humble  shed,  with  what  joy 
shall  I  return  and  renew  my  delightful  rambles. 
But  dear  as  Newstead  is  to  me,  I  will  never  again 
come  under  the  same  unhappy  circumstances  as 
I  have  this  last  time — never  without  the  means  of 
at  least  securing  myself  from  contempt.  How 
dear,  how  very  dear  Newstead  is  to  me,  how  un- 
conquerable the  infatuation  that  possesses  me,  I 
am  now  going  to  give  a  too  convincing  proof.  In 
offering  to  your  acceptance  the  worthless  trifles 
that  will  accompany  this,  I  hope  you  will  believe 
that  I  have  no  view  to  your  amusement.  I  dare 
not  hope  that  the  consideration  of  their  being  the 
products  of  your  own  garden,  and  most  of  them 
written  there,  in  my  little  tablet,  while  sitting  at 
the  foot  of  my  Altar — I  could  not,  I  cannot  resist 
the  earnest  desire  of  leaving  this  memorial  of  the 
many  happy  hours  I  have  there  enjoyed.  Oh  ! 
do  not  reject  them,  madam  ;  suffer  them  to  re- 
main with  you,  and  if  you  should  deign  to  honor 
them  with  a  perusal,  when  you  read  them  repress, 
if  you  can,  the  smile  that  I  know  will  too  natu- 
rally arise,  when  you  recollect  the  appearance  of 
the  wretched  being  who  has  dared  to  devote  her 
whole  soul  to  the  contemplation  of  such  more 
than  human  excellence.  Yet,  ridiculous  as  such 
devotion  may  appear  to  some,  I  must  take  leave 
to  say,  that  if  the  sentiments  which  I  have  enter- 
tained for  that  exalted  being  could  be  duly  appre- 
ciated, I  trust  they  would  be  found  to  be  of  such 
a  nature  as  is  no  dishonor  even  for  him  to  have 
inspired."  .... 

"  I  am  now  coming  to  take  a  last,  last  view  of 
scenes  too  deeply  impressed  upon  my  memory  ever 
to  be  effaced  even  by  madness  itself.  O  madam  ! 
may  you  never  know,  nor  be  able  to  conceive 
the  agony  I  endure  in  tearing  myself  from  all 


that  the  world  contains  of  dear  and  sacred  to  me: 
the  only  spot  on  earth  where  I  can  ever  hope  for 
peace  or  comfort.  May  every  blessing  the  world 
has  to  bestow  attend  you,  or  rather,  may  you 
long,  long  live  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  delights 
of  your  own  paradise,  in  secret  seclusion  from  a 
world  that  has  no  real  blessings  to  bestow.  Now 
I  go — but  O  might  I  dare  to  hope  that  when  you 
are  enjoying  these  blissful  scenes,  a  thought  of 
the  unhappy  wanderer  might  sometimes  cross 
your  mind,  how  soothing  would  such  an  idea  be, 
if  I  dared  to  indulge  it — could  you  see  my  heart 
at  this  moment,  how  needless  would  it  be  to  as- 
sure you  of  the  respectful  gratitude,  the  affec- 
tionate esteem,  this  heart  must  ever  bear  you 
both." 

The  effect  of  this  letter  upon  the  sensitive 
heart  of  Mrs.  Wildman  may  be  more  readily  con- 
ceived than  expressed.  Her  first  impulse  was  to 
give  a  home  to  this  poor  homeless  being,  and  to 
fix  her  in  the  midst  of  those  scenes  which  formed 
her  earthly  paradise.  She  communicated  her 
wishes  to  Colonel  Wildman,  and  they  met  with 
an  immediate  response  in  his  generous  bosom. 
It  was  settled  on  the  spot,  that  an  apartment 
should  be  fitted  up  for  the  Little  White  Lady  in 
one  of  the  new  farmhouses,  and  every  arrange- 
ment made  for  her  comfortable  and  permanent 
maintenance  on  the  estate.  With  a  woman's 
prompt  benevolence,  Mrs.  Wildman,  before  she 
laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow,  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter  to  the  destitute  stranger  : 


"NEWSTEAD  ABBEY, 
"Tuesday  night,  September  20,  1825. 

"  On  retiring  to  my  bedchamber  this  evening 
I  have  opened  your  letter,  and  cannot  lose  a  mo- 
ment in  expressing  to  you  the  strong  interest 
which  it  has  excited  both  in  Colonel  Wildman 
and  myself,  from  the  details  of  your  peculiar  sit- 
uation, and  the  delicate,  and,  let  me  add,  elegant 
language  in  which  they  are  conveyed.  I  am 
anxious  that  my  note  should  reach  you  previous 
to  your  departure  from  this  neighborhood,  and 
should  be  truly  happy  if,  by  any  arrangement  for 
your  accommodation,  I  could  prevent  the  neces- 
sity of  your  undertaking  the  journey.  Colonel 
Wildman  begs  me  to  assure  you  that  he  will  use 
his  best  exertions  in  the  investigation  of  those 
matters  which  you  have  confided  to  him,  and 
should  you  remain  here  at  present,  or  return  again 
after  a  short  absence,  I  trust  we  shall  find  means 
to  become  better  acquainted,  and  to  convince  you 
of  the  interest  I  feel,  and  the  real  satisfaction  it 
would  afford  me  to  contribute  in  any  way  to  your 
comfort  and  happiness.  I  will  only  now  add  my 
thanks  for  the  little  packet  which  I  received  with 
your  letter,  and  I  must  confess  that  the  letter  has 
so  entirely  engaged  my  attention,  that  I  have  not 
as  yet  had  time  for  the  attentive  perusal  of  its 
companion. 

"  Believe  me,  dear  madam,  with  sincere  good 
wishes, 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  LOUISA  WILDMAN." 

Early  the  next  morning  a  servant  was  dis- 
patched with  the  letter  to  the  Weir  Mill  farm,  but 
returned  with  the  information  that  the  Little  White 
Lady  had  set  off, Before  his  arrival,  in  company 
with  the  farmer's  wife,  in  a  cart  for  Nottingham, 
to  take  her  place  in  the  coach  for  London.  Mrs. 
Wildman  ordered  him  to  mount  horse  instantly, 


NEWSTEAD  ABBEY. 


511 


follow  with  all  speed,  and  deliver  the  letter  into 
her  hand  before  the  departure  of  the  coach. 

The  bearer  of  good  tidings  spared  neither  whip 
nor  spur,  and  arrived  at  Nottingham  on  a  gallop. 
On  entering  the  town  a  crowd  obstructed  him  in 
the  principal  street.  He  checked  his  horse  to 
make  his  way  through  it  quietly.  As  the  crowd 
opened  to  the  right  and  left,  he  beheld  a  human 
body  lying  on  the  pavement. — It  was  the  corpse 
of  the  Little  White  Lady  ! 


It  seems  that  on  arriving  in  town  and  dismount- 
ing from  the  cart,  the  farmer's  wife  had  parted 
with  her  to  go  on  an  errand,  and  the  White  Lady 
continued  on  toward  the  coach- office.  In  cross- 
ing a  street  a  cart  came  along  driven  at  a  rapid 
rate.  The  driver  called  out  to  her,  but  she  was 
too  deaf  to  hear  his  voice  or  the  rattling  of  his 
cart.  In  an  instant  she  was  knocked  down  by  the 
horse,  and  the  wheels  passed  over  her  body,  and 
she  died  without  a  groan. 


ABBOTSFORD. 


WASHINGTON   IRVING. 


I  SIT  down  to  perform  my  promise  of  giving  you 
an  account  of  a  visit  made  many  years  since  to 
Abbotsford.  I  hope,  however,  that  you  do  not 
expect  much  from  me,  for  the  travelling  notes 
taken  at  the  time  are  so  scanty  and  vague,  and 
my  memory  so  extremely  fallacious,  that  I  fear  I 
shall  disappoint  you  with  the  meagreness  and 
crudeness  of  my  details. 

Late  in  the  evening  of  August  29,  1817,  I  ar- 
rived at  the  ancient  little  border  town  of  Selkirk, 
where  I  put  up  for  the  night.  I  had  come  down 
from  Edinburgh,  partly  to  visit  Melrose  Abbey 
and  its  vicinity,  but  chiefly  to  get  sight  of  the 
"mighty  minstrel  of  the  north."  I  had  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  him  from  Thomas  Campbell, 
the  poet,  and  had  reason  to  think,  from  the  in- 
terest he  had  taken  in  some  of  my  earlier  scrib- 
blings,  that  a  visit  from  me  would  not  be  deemed 
an  intrusion. 

On  the  following  morning,  after  an  early  break- 
fast, I  set  off  in  a  postchaise  for  the  Abbey.  On 
the  way  thither  I  stopped  at  the  gate  of  Abbots- 
ford,  and  sent  the  postilion  to  the  house  with  the 
letter  of  introduction  and  my  card,  on  which  I 
had  written  that  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  ruins  of 
Melrose  Abbey,  and  wished  to  know  whether  it 
would  be  agreeable  to  Mr.  Scott  (he  had  not  yet 
been  made  a  Baronet)  to  receive  a  visit  from  me 
in  the  course  of  the  morning. 

While  the  postilion  was  on  his  errand,  I  had 
time  to  survey  the  mansion.  It  stood  some  short 
distance  below  the  road,  on  the  side  of  a  hill 
sweeping  down  to  the  Tweed  ;  and  was  as  yet 
but  a  snug  gentleman's  cottage,  with  something 
rural  and  picturesque  in  its  appearance.  The 
whole  front  was  overrun  with  evergreens,  and 
immediately  above  the  portal  was  a  great  pair  of 
elk  horns,  branching  out  from  beneath  the  foli- 
age, and  giving  the  cottage  the  look  of  a  hunt- 
ing lodge.  The  huge  baronial  pile,  to  which 
this  modest  mansion  in  a  manner  gave  birth, 
was  just  emerging  into  existence  ;  part  of  the 
walls,  surrounded  by  scaffolding,  already  had 
risen  to  the  height  of  the  cottage,  and  the  court- 
yard in  front  was  encumbered  by  masses  of  hewn 
stone. 

The  noise  of  the  chaise  had  disturbed  the 
quiet  of  the  establishment.  Out  sallied  the 
warder  of  the  castle,  a  black  greyhound,  and, 
leaping  on  one  of  the  blocks  of  stone,  began  a 


furious  barking.  His  alarum  brought  out  the 
whole  garrison  of  dogs  : 

"  Both  mongrel,  puppy,  whelp,  and  hound, 
And  curs  of  low  degree  ;  " 

all  open-mouthed  and  vociferous. — I  should  cor- 
rect my  quotation  ;• — not  a  cur  was  to  be  seen  on 
the  premises  :  Scott  was  too  true  a  sportsman, 
and  had  too  high  a  veneration  for  pure  blood,  to 
tolerate  a  mongrel. 

In  a  little  while  the  "lord  of  the  castle"  him- 
self made  his  appearance.  I  knew  him  at  once 
by  the  descriptions  I  had  read  and  heard,  and 
the  likenesses  that  had  been  published  of  him. 
He  was  tall,  and  of  a  large  and  powerful  frame. 
His  dress  was  simple,  and  almost  rustic.  An  old 
green  shooting-coat,  with  a  dog-whistle  at  the 
buttonhole,  brown  linen  pantaloons,  stout  shoes 
that  tied  at  the  ankles,  and  a  white  hat  that  had 
evidently  seen  service.  He  came  limping  up  the 
gravel  walk,  aiding  himself  by  a  stout  walking- 
staff,  but  moving  rapidly  and  with  vigor.  By  his 
side  jogged  along  a  large  iron-gray  stag-hound 
of  most  grave  demeanor,  who  took  no  part  in  the 
clamor  of  the  canine  rabble,  but  seemed  to  con- 
sider himself  bound,  for  the  dignity  of  the  house, 
to  give  me  a  courteous  reception. 

Before  Scott  had  reached  the  gate  he  called 
out  in  a  hearty  tone,  welcoming  me  to  Abbots- 
ford,  and  asking  news  of  Campbell.  Arrived  at 
the  door  of  the  chaise,  he  grasped  me  warmly  by 
the  hand  :  "  Come,  drive  down,  drive  down  to 
the  house,"  said  he,  "  ye're  just  in  time  for 
breakfast,  and  afterward  ye  shall  see  all  the 
wonders  of  the  Abbey." 

I  would  have  excused  myself,  on  the  plea  of 
having  already  made  my  breakfast.  "  Hout, 
man,"  cried  he,  "  a  ride  in  the  morning  in  the 
keen  air  of  the  Scotch  hills  is  warrant  enough  for 
a  second  breakfast." 

I  was  accordingly  whirled  to  the  portal  of  the 
cottage,  and  in  a  few  moments  found  myself 
seated  at  the  breakfast-table.  There  was  no  one 
present  but  the  family,  which  consisted  of  Mrs. 
Scott,  her  eldest  daughter  Sophia,  then  a  fine  girl 
about  seventeen,  Miss  Ann  Scott,  two  or  three 
years  younger,  Walter,  a  well-grown  stripling, 
and  Charles,  a  lively  boy,  eleven  or  twelve  years 
of  age.  I  soon  felt  myself  quite  at  home,  and  my 


5U 


ABBOTSFORD. 


heart  in  a  glow  with  the  cordial  welcome  I  experi- 
enced. I  had  thought  to  make  a  mere  morning 
visit,  but  found  I  was  not  to  be  let  off  so  lightly. 
"  You  must  not  think  our  neighborhood  is  to  be 
read  in  a  morning,  like  a  newspaper,"  said  Scott. 
"  It  takes  several  days  of  study  for  an  observant 
traveller  that  has  a  relish  for  auld  world  trumpery. 
After  breakfast  you  shall  make  your  visit  to  Mel- 
rose  Abbey ;  I  shall  not  be  able  to  accompany 
you,  as  I  have  some  household  affairs  to  attend 
to,  but  I  will  put  you  in  charge  of  my  son  Charles, 
who  is  very  learned  in  all  things  touching  the  old 
ruin  and  the  neighborhood  it  stands  in,  and  he 
and  my  friend  Johnny  Bower  will  tell  you  the 
whole  truth  about  it,  with  a  good  deal  more  that 
you  are  not  called  upon  to  believe — unless  you 
be  a  true  and  nothing-doubting  antiquary.  When 
you  come  back,  I'll  take  you  out  on  a  ramble 
about  the  neighborhood.  To-morrow  we  will 
take  a  look  at  the  Yarrow,  and  the  next  day  we 
will  drive  over  to  Dryburgh  Abbey,  which  is  a 
fine  old  ruin  well  worth  your  seeing" — in  a  word, 
before  Scott  had  got  through  with  his  plan,  I 
found  myself  committed  for  a  visit  of  several 
days,  and  it  seemed  as  if  a  little  realm  of  romance 
was  suddenly  opened  before  me. 


After  breakfast  I  accordingly  set  off  for  the 
Abbey  with  my  little  friend  Charles,  whom  I 
found  a  most  sprightly  and  entertaining  com- 
panion. He  had  an  ample  stock  of  anecdote 
about  the  neighborhood,  which  he  had  learned 
from  his  father,  and  many  quaint  remarks  and 
sly  jokes,  evidently  derived  from  the  same  source, 
all  which  were  uttered  with  a  Scottish  accent  and 
a  mixture  of  Scottish  phraseology,  that  gave  them 
additional  flavor. 

On  our  way  to  the  Abbey  he  gave  me  some 
anecdotes  of  Johnny  Bower  to  whom  his  father 
had  alluded ;  he  was  sexton  of  the  parish  and 
custodian  of  the  ruin,  employed  to  keep  it  in 
order  and  show  it  to  strangers  ; — a  worthy  little 
man,  not  without  ambition  in  his  humble  sphere. 
The  death  of  his  predecessor  had  been  mentioned 
in  the  newspapers,  so  that  his  name  had  appeared 
in  print  throughout  the  land.  When  Johnny  suc- 
ceeded to  the  guardianship  of  the  ruin,  he  stipu- 
lated that,  on  his  death,  his  name  should  receive 
like  honorable  blazon  ;  with  this  addition,  that  it 
should  be  from  the  pen  of  Scott.  The  latter 
gravely  pledged  himself  to  pay  this  tribute  to  his 
memory,  and  Johnny  now  lived  in  the  proud 
anticipation  of  a  poetic  immortality. 

I  found  Johnny  Bower  a  decent-looking  little 
old  man,  in  blue  coat  and  red  waistcoat.  He 
received  us  with  much  greeting,  and  seemed  de- 
lighted to  see  my  young  companion,  who  was 
full  of  merriment  and  waggery,  drawing  out  his 
peculiarities  for  my  amusement.  The  old  man 
was  one  of  the  most  authentic  and  particular  of 
cicerones  ;  he  pointed  out  everything  in  the 
Abbey  that  had  been  described  by  Scott  in  his 
"  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel :"  and  would  repeat, 
with  broad  Scottish  accent,  the  passage  which 
celebrated  it. 

Thus,  in  passing  through  the  cloisters,  he  made 
me  remark  the  beautiful  carvings  of  leaves  and 
flowers  wrought  in  stone  with  the  most  exquisite 
delicacy,  and,  notwithstanding  the  lapse  of  cen- 
turies, retaining  their  sharpness  as  if  fresh  from 
the  chisel ;  rivalling,  as  Scott  has  said,  the  real 
objects  of  which  they  were  imitations  : 

"  Nor  herb  nor  flowret  glistened  there 
But  was  carved  in  the  cloister  arches  as  fair." 


He  pointed  out  also  among  the  carved  work  a 
nun's  head  of  much  beauty,  which  he  said  Scott 
always  stopped  to  admire — "  for  the  shirra  had  a 
wonderful  eye  for  all  sic  matters." 

I  would  observe  that  Scott  seemed  to  derive 
more  consequence  in  the  neighborhood  from 
being  sheriff  of  the  county  than  from  being  poet. 

In  the  interior  of  the  Abbey  Johnny  Bovver 
conducted  me  to  the  identical  stone  on  which 
Stout  William  of  Deloraine  and  the  monk  took 
their  seat  on  that  memorable  night  when  the 
wizard's  book  was  to  be  rescued  from  the  grave. 
Nay,  Johnny  had  even  gone  beyond  Scott  in  the 
minuteness  of  his  antiquarian  research,  for  he 
had  discovered  the  very  tomb  of  the  wizard,  the 
position  of  which  had  been  left  in  doubt  by  the 
poet.  This  he  boasted  to  have  ascertained  by 
the  position  of  the  oriel  window,  and  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  moonbeams  fell  at  night, 
through  the  stained  glass,  casting  the  shadow  to 
the  red  cross  on  the  spot ;  as  had  all  been  speci- 
fied in  the  poem.  "  I  pointed  out  the  whole  to  the 
shirra,"  said  he,  "and  he  could  na'  gainsay  but  it 
was  varra  clear."  I  found  afterward  that  Scott 
used  to  amuse  himself  with  the  simplicity  of  the 
old  man,  and  his  zeal  in  verifying  every  passage 
of  the  poem,  as  though  it  had  been  authentic  his- 
tory, and  that  he  always  acquiesced  in  his  deduc- 
tions. I  subjoin  the  description  of  the  wizard's 
grave,  which  called  forth  the  antiquarian  research 
of  Johnny  Bower. 

"  Lo  warrior  !  now  the  cross  of  red, 
Points  to  the  grave  of  the  mighty  dead; 
Slow  moved  the  monk  to  the  broad  flag-stone, 
Which  the  bloody  cross  was  traced  upon  : 
He  pointed  to  a  sacred  nook  : 
An  iron  bar  the  warrior  took  ; 
And  the  monk  made  a  sign  with  his  withered  hand, 
The  grave's  huge  portal  to  expand. 

"  It  was  by  dint  of  passing  strength, 
That  he  moved  the  massy  stone  at  length. 
I  would  you  had  been  there  to  see, 
How  the  light  broke  forth  so  gloriously, 
Streamed  upward  to  the  chancel  roof, 
And  through  the  galleries  far  aloof  ! 

And,  issuing  from  the  tomb, 
Showed  the  monk's  cowl  and  visage  pale, 
Danced  on  the  dark  brown  warrior's  mail, 

And  kissed  his  waving  plume. 

"  Before  their  eyes  the  wizard  lay, 
As  if  he  had  not  been  dead  a  day. 
His  hoary  beard  in  silver  rolled, 
He  seemed  some  seventy  winters  old  ; 
A  palmer's  amice  wrapped  him  round  ; 
With  a  wrought  Spanish  baldric  bound, 

Like  a  pilgrim  from  beyond  the  sea  ; 
His  left  hand  held  his  book  of  might ; 
A  silver  cross  was  in  his  right  : 

The  lamp  was  placed  beside  his  knee." 

The  fictions  of  Scott  had  become  facts  with 
honest  Johnny  Bower.  From  constantly  living 
among  the  ruins  of  Melrose  Abbey,  and  pointing 
out  the  scenes  of  the  poem,  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last 
Minstrel"  had,  in  a  manner,  become  interwoven 
with  his  whole  existence,  and  I  doubt  whether 
he  did  not  now  and  then  mix  up  his  own  identity 
with  the  personages  of  some  of  its  cantos. 

He  could  not  bear  that  any  other  production  of 
the  poet  should  be  preferred  to  the  "  Lay  of  the 
Last  Minstrel."  "  Faith,"  said  he  to  me,  "  it's  just 
e'en  as  gude  a  thing  as  Mr.  Scott  has  written — an' 
if  he  were  stannin'  there  I'd  tell  him  so — an'  then 
he'd  lauff." 


ABBOTSFORD. 


He  was  loud  in  his  praises  of  the  affability  of 
Scott.  "  He'll  come  here  sometimes,"  said  he, 
"  with  great  folks  in  his  company,  an'  the  first  I 
know  of  it  is  his  voice,  calling  out  '  Johnny  ! — 
Johnny  Bower  ! ' — and  when  I  go  out,  I  am  sure  to 
be  greeted  with  a  joke  or  a  pleasant  word.  He'll 
stand  and  crack  and  lauff  wi'  me,  just  like  an 
auld  wife — and  to  think  that  of  a  man  who  has 
such  an  awfu'  knowledge  o'  history !" 

One  of  the  ingenious  devices  on  which  the 
worthy  little  man  prided  himself,  was  to  place  a 
visitor  opposite  to  the  Abbey,  with  his  back  to 
it,  and  bid  him  bend  down  and  look  at  it  between 
his  legs.  This,  he  said,  gave  an  entire  different 
aspect  to  the  ruin.  Folks  admired  the  plan 
amazingly,  but  as  to  the  "  leddies,"  they  were 
dainty  on  the  matter,  and  contented  themselves 
with  looking  from  under  their  arms. 

As  Johnny  Bower  piqued  himself  upon  showing 
everything  laid  down  in  the  poem,  there  was  one 
passage  that  perplexed  him  sadly.  It  was  the 
opening  of  one  of  the  cantos  : 

"  If  thou  woulcPst  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 
Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight ; 
For  the  gay  beams  of  lightsome  day, 
Gild  but  to  flout  the  ruins  gray,"  etc. 

In  consequence  of  this  admonition,  many  of 
the  most  devout  pilgrims  to  the  ruin  could  not  be 
contented  with  a  daylight  inspection,  and  insisted 
it  could  be  nothing,  unless  seen  by  the  light  of 
the  moon.  Now,  unfortunately,  the  moon  shines 
but  for  a  part  of  the  month  ;  and,  what  is  still 
more  unfortunate,  is  very  apt  in  Scotland  to  be 
obscured  by  clouds  and  mists.  Johnny  was 
sorely  puzzled,  therefore,  how  to  accommodate 
his  poetry-struck  visitors  with  this  indispensable 
moonshine.  At  length,  in  a  lucky  moment,  he 
devised  a  substitute.  This  was  a  great  double 
tallow  candle  stuck  upon  the  end  of  a  pole,  with 
which  he  could  conduct  his  visitors  about  the 
ruins  on  dark  nights,  so  much  to  their  satisfac- 
tion that,  at  length,  he  began  to  think  it  even  pre- 
ferable to  the  moon  itself.  "  It  does  na  light  up 
a'  the  Abbey  at  aince,  to  be  sure,"  he  would  say, 
"  but  then  you  can  shift  it  about  and  show  the 
auld  ruin  bit  by  bit,  whiles  the  moon  only  shines 
on  one  side." 

Honest  Johnny  Bower !  so  many  years  have 
elapsed  since  the  time  I  treat  of,  that  it  is  more 
than  probable  his  simple  head  lies  beneath  the 
walls  of  his  favorite  Abbey.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
his  humble  ambition  has  been  gratified,  and  his 
name  recorded  by  the  pen  of  the  man  he  so  loved 
and  honored. 


After  my  return  from  Melrose  Abbey,  Scott 
proposed  a  ramble  to  show  me  something  of  the 
surrounding  country.  As  we  sallied  forth,  every 
dog  in  the  establishment  turned  out  to  attend  us. 
There  was  the  old  stag-hound  Maida,  that  I  have 
already  mentioned,  a  noble  animal,  and  a  great 
favorite  of  Scott's,  and  Hamlet,  the  black  grey- 
hound, a  wild,  thoughtless  youngster,  not  yet  ar- 
rived to  the  years  of  discretion  ;  and  Finette,  a 
beautiful  setter,  with  soft,  silken  hair,  long  pen- 
dent ears,  and  a  mild  eye,  the  parlor  favorite. 
When  in  front  of  the  house,  we  were  joined  by  a 
superannuated  greyhound,  who  came  from  the 
kitchen  wagging  his  tail,  and  was  cheered  by  Scott 
as  an  old  friend  and  corfirade. 

In  our  walks,  Scott  would  frequently  pause  in 


conversation  to  notice  his  dogs  and  speak  to  them, 
as  if  rational  companions ;  and  indeed  there 
appears  to  be  a  vast  deal  of  rationality  in  these 
faithful  attendants  on  man,  derived  from  their 
close  intimacy  with  him.  Maida  deported  him- 
self with  a  gravity  becoming  his  age  and  size,  and 
seemed  to  consider  himself  called  upon  to  pre- 
serve a  great  degree  of  dignity  and  decorum  in 
our  society.  As  he  jogged  along  a  little  distance 
ahead  of  us,  the  young  dogs  would  gambol  about 
him,  leap  on  his  neck,  worry  at  his  ears,  and  en- 
deavor to  tease  him  into  a  frolic.  The  old  dog 
would  keep  on  for  a  long  time  with  imperturbable 
solemnity,  now  and  then  seeming  to  rebuke  the 
wantonness  of  his  young  companions.  At  length 
he  would  make  a  sudden  turn,  seize  one  of  them, 
and  tumble  him  in  the  dust ;  then  giving  a  glance 
at  us,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You  see,  gentlemen, 
I  can't  help  giving  way  to  this  nonsense,"  would 
resume  his  gravity  and  jog  on  as  before. 

Scott  amused  himself  with  these  peculiarities. 
"  I  make  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  when  Maida  is 
alone  with  these  young  dogs,  he  throws  gravity 
aside,  and  plays  the  boy  as  much  as  any  of  them; 
but  he  is  ashamed  to  do  so  in  our  company,  and 
seems  to  say,  '  Ha'  done  with  your  nonsense, 
youngsters  ;  what  will  the  laird  and  that  other 
gentleman  think  of  me  if  I  give  way  to  such 
foolery  ? ' " 

Maida  reminded  him,  he  said,  of  a  scene  on 
board  an  armed  yacht  in  which  he  made  an  ex- 
cursion with  his  friend  Adam  Ferguson.  They 
had  taken  much  notice  of  the  boatswain,  who  was  a 
fine  sturdy  seaman,  and  evidently  felt  flattered  by 
their  attention.  On  one  occasion  the  crew  were 
"  piped  to  fun,"  and  the  sailors  were  dancing  and 
cutting  all  kinds  of  capers  tp  the  music  of  the 
ship's  band.  The  boatswain  looked  on  with  a 
wistful  eye,  as  if  he  would  like  to  join  in ;  but  a 
glance  at  Scott  and  Ferguson  showed  that  there 
was  a  struggle  with  his  dignity,  fearing  to  lessen 
himself  in  their  eyes.  At  length  one  of  his  mess- 
mates came  up,  and  seizing  him  by  the  arm, 
challenged  him  to  a  jig.  The  boatswain,  con- 
tinued Scott,  after  a  little  hesitation  complied, 
made  an  awkward  gambol  or  two,  like  our  friend 
Maida,  but  soon  gave  it  up.  "  It's  of  no  use," 
said  he,  jerking  up  his  waistband  and  giving  a 
side  glance  at  us,  "  one  can't  dance  always 
nouther." 

Scott  amused  himself  with  the  peculiarities  of 
another  of  his  dogs,  a  little  shamefaced  terrier, 
with  large  glassy  eyes,  one  of  the  most  sensitive 
little  bodies  to  insult  and  indignity  in  the  world. 
If  ever  he  whipped  him,  he  said,  the  little  fellow 
would  sneak  off  and  hide  himself  from  the  light  of 
day,  in  a  lumber  garret,  whence  there  was  no 
drawing  him  forth  but  by  the  sound  of  the  chop- 
ping-knife,  as  if  chopping  up  his  victuals,  when 
he  would  steal  forth  with  humble  and  downcast 
look,  but  would  skulk  away  again  if  any  one  re- 
garded him. 

While  we  were  discussing  the  humors  and 
peculiarities  of  our  canine  companions,  some 
object  provoked  their  spleen,  and  produced  a 
sharp  and  petulant  barking  from  the  smaller  fry, 
but  it  was  some  time  before  Maida  was  sufficiently 
aroused  to  ramp  forward  two  or  three  bounds 
and  join  in  the  chorus,  with  a  deep-mouthed  bow- 
wow ! 

It  was  but  a  transient  outbreak,  and  he  returned 
instantly,  wagging  his  tail,  and  looking  up  dubi- 
ously in  his  master's  face  ;  uncertain  whether  he 
would  censure  or  applaud. 

"  Aye,  aye,  old  boy  !  "  cried  Scott,  "  you  have 


516 


ABBOTSFORD. 


done  wonders.  You  have  shaken  the  Eildon  hills 
with  your  roaring  ;  you  may  now  lay  by  your 
artillery  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Maida  is  like 
the  great  gun  at  Constantinople,"  continued  he  ; 
"  it  takes  so  long  to  get  it  ready,  that  the  small 
guns  can  fire  off  a  dozen  times  first,  but  when  it 
does  go  off  it  plays  the  very  d — 1." 

These  simple  anecdotes  may  serve  to  show  the 
delightful  play  of  Scott's  humors  and  feelings  in 
private  life.  His  domestic  animals  were  his 
friends ;  everything  about  him  seemed  to  rejoice 
in  the  light  of  his  countenance  ;  the  face  of  the 
humblest  dependent  brightened  at  his  approach, 
as  if  he  anticipated  a  cordial  and  cheering  word. 
I  had  occasion  to  observe  this  particularly  in  a 
visit  which  we  paid  to  a  quarry,  whence  several 
men  were  cutting  stone  for  the  new  edifice ;  who 
all  paused  from  their  labor  to  have  a  pleasant 
"  crack  wi'  the  laird."  One  of  them  was  a  bur- 
gess of  Selkirk,  with  whom  Scott  had  some  joke 
about  the  old  song  : 

"  Up  with  the  Souters  o'  Selkirk, 
And  down  with  the  Earl  of  Home." 

Another  was  precentor  at  the  Kirk,  and,  besides 
leading  the  psalmody  on  Sunday,  taught  the  lads 
and  lasses  of  the  neighborhood  dancing  on  week 
days,  in  the  winter  time,  when  out-of-door  labor 
was  scarce. 

Among  the  rest  was  a  tall,  straight  old  fellow, 
with  a  healthful  complexion  and  silver  hair,  and  a 
small  round-crowned  white  hat.  He  had  been 
about  to  shoulder  a  hod,  but  paused,  and  stood 
looking  at  Scott,  with  a  slight  sparkling  of  his 
blue  eye,  as  if  waiting  his  turn  ;  for  the  old  fel- 
low knew  himself  to  be  a  favorite. 

Scott  accosted  him  in  an  affable  tone,  and 
asked  for  a  pinch  of  snuff.  The  old  man  drew 
forth  a  horn  snuff-box.  "  Hoot,  man,"  said 
Scott,  "  not  that  old  mull :  where's  the  bonnie 
French  one  that  I  brought  you  from  Paris  ? " 
"  Troth,  your  honor,"  replied  the  old  fellow, 
"sic  a  mull  as  that  is  nae  for  week-days." 

On  leaving  the  quarry,  Scott  informed  me  that 
when  absent  at  Paris,  he  had  purchased  several 
trifling  articles  as  presents  for  his  dependents, 
and  among  others  the  gay  snuff-box  in  question, 
which  was  so  caretully  reserved  for  Sundays,  by 
the  veteran.  "  It  was  not  so  much  the  value  of 
the  gifts,"  said  he,  "  that  pleased  them,  as  the 
idea  that  the  laird  should  think  of  them  when  so 
far  away." 

The  old  man  in  question,  I  found,  was  a  great 
favorite  with  Scott.  If  I  recollect  right,  he  had 
been  a  soldier  in  early  life,  and  his  straight,  erect 
person,  his  ruddy  yet  rugged  countenance,  his 
gray  hair,  and  an  arch  gleam  in  his  blue  eye,  re- 
minded me  of  the  description  of  Edie  Ochiltree. 
I  find  that  the  old  fellow  has  since  been  introduced 
by  Wilkie,  in  his  picture  of  the  Scott  family. 


We  rambled  on  among  scenes  which  had  been 
familiar  in  Scottish  song,  and  rendered  classic  by 
pastoral  muse,  long  before  Scott  had  thrown  the 
rich  mantle  of  his  poetry  over  them.  What  a 
thrill  of  pleasure  did  I  feel  when  first  I  saw  the 
broom-covered  tops  of  the  Cowden  Knowes,  peep- 
ing above  the  gray  hills  of  the  Tweed  :  and  what 
touching  associations  were  called  up  by  the  sight 
of  Ettrick  Vale,  Galla  Water,  and  the  Braes  of 
Yarrow!  Every  turn  brought  to  mind  some 
household  air — some  almost  forgotten  song  of  the 


nursery,  by  which  I  had  been  lulled  to  sleep  in 
my  childhood  ;  and  with  them  the  looks  and 
voices  of  those  who  had  sung  them,  and  who 
were  now  no  more.  It  is  these  melodies,  chanted 
in  our  ears  in  the  days  of  infancy,  and  connected 
with  the  memory  of  those  we  have  loved,  and 
who  have  passed  away,  that  clothe  Scottish  land- 
scape with  such  tender  associations.  The  Scot- 
tish songs,  in  general,  have  something  intrinsi- 
cally melancholy  in  them  ;  owing,  in  all  prob- 
ability, to  the  pastoral  and  lonely  life  of  those 
who  composed  them  ;  who  were  often  mere  shep- 
herds, tending  their  flocks  in  the  solitary  glens, 
or  folding  them  among  the  naked  hills.  Many  of 
these  rustic  bards  have  passed  away,  without 
leaving  a  name  behind  them  ;  nothing  remains  of 
them  but  their  sweet  and  touching  songs,  which 
live,  like  echoes,  about  the  places  they  once  in- 
habited. Most  of  these  simple  effusions  of 
pastoral  poets  are  linked  with  some  favorite  haunt 
of  the  poet ;  and  in  this  way,  not  a  mountain  or 
valley,  a  town  or  tower,  green  shaw  or  running 
stream,  in  Scotland,  but  has  some  popular  air 
connected  with  it,  that  makes  its  very  name  a 
key-note  to  a  whole  train  of  delicious  fancies  and 
feelings. 

Let  me  step  forward  in  time,  and  mention  how 
sensible  I  was  to  the  power  of  these  simple  airs, 
in  a  visit  which  I  made  to  Ayr,  the  birthplace  of 
Robert  Burns.  I  passed  a  whole  morning  about 
"  the  banks  and  braes  of  bonnie  Doon,"  with  his 
tender  little  love  verses  running  in  my  head.  I 
found  a  poor  Scotch  carpenter  at  work  among  the 
ruins  of  Kirk  Alloway,  which  was  to  be  con- 
verted into  a  school-house.  Finding  the  purpose 
of  my  visit,  he  left  his  work,  sat  down  with  me  on 
a  grassy  grave,  close  by  where  Burns'  father  was 
buried,  and  talked  of  the  poet,  whom  he  had 
known  personally.  He  said  his  songs  were 
familiar  to  the  poorest  and  most  illiterate  of  the 
country  folk,  "  and  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the 
country  had  grown  more  beautiful,  since  Burns 
had  written  his  bonnie  little  songs  about  //." 

I  found  Scott  was  quite  an  enthusiast  on  the 
subject  of  the  popular  songs  of  his  country,  and 
he  seemed  gratified  to  find  me  so  alive  to  them. 
Their  effect  in  calling  up  in  my  mind  the  recol- 
lections of  early  times  and  scenes  in  which  I  had 
first  heard  them,  reminded  him,  he  said,  of  the 
lines  of  his  poor  friend,  Leyden,  to  the  Scottish 
muse  : 

"  In  youth's  first  morn,  alert  and  gay, 
Ere  rolling  years  had  passed  away, 

Remembered  like  a  morning  dream, 
I  heard  the  dulcet  measures  float, 
In  many  a  liquid  winding  note, 

Along  the  bank  of  Teviot's  stream. 

"  Sweet  sounds  !  that  oft  have  soothed  to  rest 
The  sorrows  of  my  guileless  breast, 

And  charmed  away  mine  infant  tears  ; 
Fond  memory  shall  your  strains  repeat, 
Like  distant  echoes,  doubly  sweet, 

That  on  the  wild  the  traveller  hears." 

Scott  went  on  to  expatiate  on  the  popular  songs 
of  Scotland.  "They  are  a  part  of  our  national 
inheritance,"  said  he,  "  and  something  that  we 
may  truly  call  our  own.  They  have  no  foreign 
taint  ;  they  have  the  pure  breath  of  the  heather 
and  the  mountain  breeze.  All  genuine  legitimate 
races  that  have  descended  from  the  ancient 
Britons  ;  such  as  the  Scotch,  the  Welsh,  and  the 
Irish,  have  national  airs.  The  English  have 
none,  because  they  are  not  natives  of  the  soil,  ore 


ABBOTSFORD. 


517 


at  least,  are  mongrels.  Their  music  is  all  made 
up  of  foreign  scraps,  like  a  harlequin  jacket,  or  a 
piece  of  mosaic.  Even  in  Scotland,  we  have 
comparatively  few  national  songs  in  the  eastern 
part,  where  we  have  had  most  influx  of  strangers. 
A  real  old  Scottish  song  is  a  cairngorm— a  gem 
of  our  own  mountains  ;  or  rather,  it  is  a  precious 
relic  of  old  times,  that  bears  the  national  char- 
acter stamped  upon  it — like  a  cameo,  that  shows 
what  the  national  visage  was  in  former  days,  be- 
fore the  breed  was  crossed." 

While  Scott  was  thus  discoursing,  we  were  pass- 
ing up  a  narrow  glen,  with  the  dogs  beating  about, 
to  right  and  left,  when  suddenly  a  black  cock  burst 
upon  the  wing. 

"Aha!"  cried  Scott,  "there  will  be  a  good 
shot  for  Master  Walter  ;  we  must  send  him  this 
way  with  his  gun,  when  we  go  home.  Walter's 
the  family  sportsman  now,  and  keeps  us  in  game. 
I  have  pretty  nigh  resigned  my  gun  to  him-;  for 
I  find  I  cannot  trudge  about  as  briskly  as  for- 
merly." 

Our  ramble  took  us  on  the  hills  commanding 
an  extensive  prospect.  "Now,"  said  Scott,  "  I 
have  brought  you,  like  the  pilgrim  in  the  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  to  the  top  of  the  Delectable  Mountains, 
that  I  may  show  you  all  the  goodly  regions  here- 
abouts. Yonder  is  Lammermuir,  and  Smal- 
holme  ;  and  there  you  have  Gallashiels,  and  Tor- 
woodlie,  and  Gallawater  ;  and  in  that  direction 
you  see  Teviotdale,  and  the  Braes  of  Yarrow ; 
and  Ettrick  stream,  winding  along,  like  a  silver 
thread,  to  throw  itself  into  the  Tweed." 

He  went  on  thus  to  call  over  names  celebrated 
in  Scottish  song,  and  most  of  which  had  recently 
received  a^romantic  interest  from  his  own  pen. 
In  fact,  I  saw  a  great  part  of  the  border  country 
spread  out  before  me,  and  could  trace  the  scenes 
of  those  poems  and  romances  which  had,  in  a 
manner,  bewitched  the  world.  I  gazed  about  me 
for  a  time  with  mute  surprise,  I  may  almost  say 
with  disappointment.  I  beheld  a  mere  succes- 
sion of  gray  waving  hills,  line  beyond  line,  as  far 
as  my  eye  could  reach  ;  monotonous  in  their 
aspect,  and  so  destitute  of  trees,  that  one  could 
almost  see  a  stout  fly  walking  along  their  profile  ; 
and  the  far-famed  Tweed  appeared  a  naked 
stream,  flowing  between  bare  hills,  without  a  tree 
or  thicket  on  its  banks  ;  and  yet,  such  had  been 
the  magic  web  of  poetry  and  romance  thrown 
over  the  whole,  that  it  had  a  greater  charm  for 
me  than  the  richest  scenery  I  beheld  in  England. 

1  could  not  help  giving  utterance  to  my  thoughts. 
Scott  hummed  for  a  moment  to  himself,  and 
looked  grave  ;  he  had  no  idea  of  having  his  muse 
complimented  at  the  expense  of  his  native  hills. 
"  It  maybe  partiality,"  said  he,  at  length  ;  "  but 
to  my  eye,  these  gray  hills  and  all  this  wild  border 
country  have  beauties  peculiar  to  themselves.  I 
like  the  very  nakedness  of  the  land  ;  it  has  some- 
thing bold,  and  stern,  and  solitary  about  it. 
When  I  have  been  for  some  time  in  the  rich 
scenery  about  Edinburgh,  which  is  like  orna- 
mented garden  land,  I  begin  to  wish  myself  back 
again  among  my  own  honest  gray  hills  ;  and  if  I 
did  not  see  the  heather  at  least  once  a  year,  / 
think  I  should  die  /" 

The  last  words  were  said  with  an  honest  warmth, 
accompanied  with  a  thump  on  the  ground  with  his 
staff,  by  way  of  emphasis,  that  showed  his  heart 
was  in' his  speech.  He  vindicated  the  Tweed, 
too,  as  a  beautiful  stream  in  itself,  and  observed 
that  he  did  not  dislike  it  for  being  bare  of  trees, 
probably  from  having  been  much  of  an  angler  in 
his  time,  and  an  angler  does  not  like  to  have  a 


stream  overhung  by  trees,  which  embarrass  him 
in  the  exercise  of  his  rod  and  line. 

I  took  occasion  to  plead,  in  like  manner,  the 
associations  of  early  life,  for  my  disappointment 
in  respect  to  the  surrounding  scenery.  I  had 
been  so  accustomed  to  hills  crowned  with  forests, 
and  streams  breaking  their  way  through  a  wilder- 
ness of  trees,  that  all  my  ideas  of  romantic  land- 
scape were  apt  to  be  well  wooded. 

"Aye,  and  that's  the  great  charm  of  your 
country,"  cried  Scott.  "  You  love  the  forest  as  I 
do  the  heather — but  I  would  not  have  you  think  I 
do  not  feel  the  glory  of  a  great  woodland  pros- 
pect. There  is  nothing  I  should  like  more  than 
to  be  in  the  midst  of  one  of  your  grand,  wild, 
original  forests  with  the  idea  of  hundreds  of 
miles  of  untrodden  forest  around  me.  I  once 
saw,  at  Leith,  an  immense  stick  of  timber,  just 
landed  from  America.  It  must  have  been  an 
enormous  tree  when  it  stood  on  its  native  soil,  at 
its  full  height,  and  with  all  its  branches.  I  gazed 
at  it  with  admiration  ;  it  seemed  like  one  of  the 
gigantic  obelisks  which  are  now  and  then  brought 
from  Egypt,  to  shame  the  pigmy  monuments  of 
Europe  ;  and,  in  fact,  these  vast  aboriginal 
trees,  that  have  sheltered  the  Indians  before  the 
intrusion  of  the  white  men,  are  the  monuments 
and  antiquities  of  your  country." 

The  conversation  here  turned  upon  Campbell's 
poem  of"  Gertrude  of  Wyoming."  as  illustrative 
of  the  poetic  materials  furnished  by  American 
scenery.  Scott  spoke  of  it  in  that  liberal  style 
in  which  I  always  found  him  to  speak  of  the 
writings  of  his  contemporaries.  He  cited  several 
passages  of  it  with  great  delight.  "What  a  pity 
it  is,"  said  he,  "that  Campbell  does  not  write 
more  and  oftener,  and  give  full  sweep  to  his 
genius.  He  has.  wings  that  would  bear  him  to 
the  skies  ;  and  he  does  now  and  then  spread 
them  grandly,  but  folds  them  up  again  and  re- 
sumes his  perch,  as  if  he  was  afraid  to  launch 
away.  He  don't  know  or  won't  trust  his  own 
strength.  Even  when  he  has  done  a  thing  well, 
he  has  often  misgivings  about  it.  He  left  out 
several  fine  passages  of  his  Lochiel,  but  I  got 
him  to  restore  some  of  them.  Here  Scott  re- 
peated several  passages  in  a  magnificent  style. 
"  What  a  grand  idea  is  that,"  said  he,  "  about 
prophetic  boding,  or,  in  common  parlance, 
second  sight — 

'  Coming  events  cast  their  shadows  before.' 

It  is  a  noble  thought,  and  nobly  expressed.  And 
there's  that  glorious  little  poem,  too,  of '  Hohen- 
linden  ; '  after  he  had  written  it,  he  did  not  seem 
to  think  much  of  it,  but  considered  some  of  it 

'  d d  drum  and  trumpet  lines.'  I  got  him  to 

recite  it  to  me,  and  I  believe  that  the  delight  I 
felt  and  expressed  had  an  effect  in  inducing  him 
to  print  it.  The  fact  is,"  added  he,  "  Campbell 
is,  in  a  manner,  a  bugbear  to  himself.  The 
brightness  of  his  early  success  is  a  detriment  to 
all  his  further  efforts.  He  is  afraid  of  the  shadow 
that  his  ownfame  casts  before  him.''1 

While  we  were  thus  chatting,  we  heard  the  re- 
port of  a  gun  among  the  hills.  "  That's  Walter, 
I  think,"  said  Scott  ;  "  he  has  finished  his  morn- 
ing's studies,  and  is  out  with  his  gun.  I  should 
not  be  surprised  if  he  had  met  with  the  black 
cock  ;  if  so,  we  shall  have  an  addition  to  our 
larder,  for  Walter  is  a  pretty  sure  shot." 

I  inquired  into  the  nature  of  Walter's  studies. 
"  Faith,"  said  Scott,  "  I  can't  say  much  on  that 
head.  1  am  not  over  bent  upon  making  prodigies 


518 


ABBOTSFORD. 


of  any  of  my  children.  As  to  Walter,  I  taught 
him,  while  a  boy,  to  ride,  and  shoot,  and  speak 
the  truth  ;  as  to  the  other  parts  of  his  education, 
I  leave  them  to  a  very  worthy  young  man,  the 
son  of  one  of  our  clergymen,  who  instructs  all 
my  children." 

I  afterward  became  acquainted  with  the  young 
man  in  question,  George  Thomson,  son  of  the 
minister  of  Melrose,  and  found  him  possessed  of 
much  learning,  intelligence,  and  modest  worth. 
He  used  to  come  every  day  from  his  father's  re- 
sidence at  Melrose  to  superintend  the  studies  of 
the  young  folks,  and  occasionally  took  his  meals 
at  Abbotsford,  where  he  was  highly  esteemed. 
Nature  had  cut  him  out,  Scott  used  to  say,  for  a 
stalwart  soldier,  for  he  was  tall,  vigorous,  active, 
and  fond  of  athletic  exercises,  but  accident  had 
marred  her  work,  the  loss  of  a  limb  in  boyhood 
having  reduced  him  to  a  wooden  leg.  He  was 
brought  up,  therefore,  for  the  Church,  whence 
he  was  occasionally  called  the  Dominie,  and  is 
supposed,  by  his  mixture  of  learning,  simplicity, 
and  amiable  eccentricity,  to  have  furnished  many 
traits  for  the  character  of  Dominie  Sampson.  I 
believe  he  often  acted  as  Scott's  amanuensis, 
when  composing  his  novels.  With  him  the  young 
people  were  occupied  in  general  during  the  early 
part  of  the  day,  after  which  they  took  all  kinds 
of  healthful  recreations  in  the  open  air  ;  for  Scott 
was  as  solicitous  to  strengthen  their  bodies  as 
their  minds. 

We  had  not  walked  much  further  before  we 
saw  the  two  Miss  Scotts  advancing  along  the  hill- 
side to  meet  us.  The  morning  studies  being 
over,  they  had  set  off  to  take  a  ramble  on  the 
hills,  and  gather  heather  blossoms,  with  which  to 
decorate  their  hair  for  dinner.  As  they  came 
bounding  lightly  like  young  fawns,  and  their 
dresses  fluttering  in  the  pure  summer  breeze,  I 
was  reminded  of  Scott's  own  description  of  his 
children  in  his  introduction  to  one  of  the  cantos 
of  Marmion — 

"  My  imps,  though  hardy,  bold,  and  wild, 
As  best  befits  the  mountain  child, 
Their  summer  gambols  tell  and  mourn, 
And  anxious  ask  will  spring  return, 
And  birds  and  lambs  again  be  gay, 
And  blossoms  clothe  the  hawthorn  spray  ? 

"  Yes,  prattlers,  yes,  the  daisy's  flower 
Again  shall  paint  your  summer  bower ; 
Again  the  hawthorn  shall  supply 
The  garlands  you  delight  to  tie  ; 
The  lambs  upon  the  lea  shall  bound, 
The  wild  birds  carol  to  the  round, 
And  while  you  frolic  light  as  they, 
Too  short  shall  seem  the  summer  day." 

As  they  approached,  the  dogs  all  sprang  forward 
and  gambolled  around  them.  They  played  with 
them  for  a  time,  and  then  joined  us  with  counte- 
nances full  of  health  and  glee.  Sophia,  the  eld- 
est, was  the  most  lively  and  joyous,  having  much 
of  her  father's  varied  spirit  in  conversation,  and 
seeming  to  catch  excitement  from  his  words  and 
looks.  Ann  was  of  quieter  mood,  rather  silent, 
owing,  in  some  measure,  no  doubt,  to  her  being 
some  years  younger. 


At  dinner  Scott  had  laid  by  his  half-rustic  dress, 
and  appeared  clad  in  black.  The  girls,  too,  in 
completing  their  Joilet,  had  twisted  in  their  hair  the 
sprigs  of  purple  heather  which  they  had  gathered 


on  the  hillside,  and  looked  all  fresh  and  blooming 
from  their  breezy  walk. 

There  was  no  guest  at  dinner  but  myself. 
Around  the  table  were  two  or  three  dogs  in  at- 
tendance. Maida,  the  old  stag-hound,  took  his 
seat  at  Scott's  elbow,  looking  up  wistfully  in  his 
master's  eye,  while  Finette,  the  pet  spaniel, 
placed  herself  near  Mrs.  Scott,  by  whom,  I  soon 
perceived,  she  was  completely  spoiled. 

The  conversation  happening  to  turn  on  the 
merits  of  his  dogs,  Scott  spoke  with  great  feeling 
and  affection  of  his  favorite,  Camp,  who  is  de- 
picted by  his  side  in  the  earlier  engravings  of 
him.  He  talked  of  him  as  of  a  real  friend  whom 
he  had  lost,  and  Sophia  Scott,  looking  up  archly 
in  his  face,  observed  that  Papa  shed  a  few  tears 
when  poor  Camp  died.  I  may  here  mention  an- 
other testimonial  of  Scott's  fondness  for  his  dogs, 
and  his  humorous  mode  of  showing  it,  which  I 
subsequently  met  with.  Rambling  with  him  one 
morning  about  the  grounds  adjacent  to  the  house, 
I  observed  a  small  antique  monument,  on  which 
was  inscribed,  in  Gothic  characters  — 


it  le  preux  Percy." 
(Here  lies  the  brave  Percy.) 

I  paused,  supposing  it  to  be  the  tomb  of  some 
stark  warrior  of  the  olden  time,  but  Scott  drew 
me  on,  "  Pooh  !  "  cried  he,  "  it's  nothing  but  one 
of  the  monuments  of  my  nonsense,  of  which  you'll 
find  enough  hereabouts."  I  learnt  afterward  that 
it  was  the  grave  of  a  favorite  greyhound. 

Among  the  other  important  and  privileged 
members  of  the  household  who  figured  in  attend- 
ance at  the  dinner,  was  a  large  gray*cat,  who,  I 
observed,  was  regaled  from  time  to  time  with  tit- 
bits from  the  table.  This  sage  grimalkin  was  a 
favorite  of  both  master  and  mistress,  and  slept  at 
night  in  their  room  ;  and  Scott  laughingly  ob- 
served, that  one  of  the  least  wise  parts  of  their 
establishment  was,  that  the  window  was  left  open 
at  night  for  puss  to  go  in  and  out.  The  cat  as- 
sumed a  kind  of  ascendancy  among  the  quadru- 
peds —  sitting  in  state  in  Scott's  arm-chair,  and 
occasionally  stationing  himself  on  a  chair  beside 
the  door,  as  if  to  review  his  subjects  as  they 
passed,  giving  each  dog  a  cuff  beside  the  ears  as 
he  went  by.  This  clapper-clawing  was  always 
taken  in  good  part  ;  it  appeared  to  be,  in  fact,  a 
mere  act  of  sovereignty  on  the  part  of  grimalkin, 
to  remind  the  others  of  their  vassalage  ;  which 
they  acknowledged  by  the  most  perfect  acquies- 
cence. A  general  harmony  prevailed  between 
sovereign  and  subjects,  and  they  would  all  sleep 
together  in  the  sunshine. 

Scott  was  full  of  anecdote  and  conversation 
during  dinner.  He  made  some  admirable  re- 
marks upon  the  Scottish  character,  and  spoke 
strongly  in  praise  of  the  quiet,  orderly,  honest 
conduct  of  his  neighbors,  which  one  would  hardly 
expect,  said  he,  from  the  descendants  of  moss 
troopers,  and  borderers,  in  a  neighborhood  famed 
in  old  times  for  brawl  and  feud,  and  violence  of 
all  kinds.  He  said  he  had,  in  his  official  capacity 
of  sheriff,  administered  the  laws  for  a  number  of 
years,  during  which  there  had  been  very  few 
trials.  The  old  feuds  and  local  interests,  and 
rivalries,  and  animosities  of  the  Scotch,  however, 
still  slept,  he  said,  in  their  ashes,  and  might 
easily  be  roused.  Their  hereditary  feeling  for 
names  was  still  great.  It  was  not  always  safe  to 
have  even  the  game  of  foot-ball  between  villages, 
the  old  clannish  spirit  was  too  apt  to  break  out. 
The  Scotch,  he  said,  were  more  revengeful  than 


ABBOTSFORD. 


519 


the  English;  they  carried  their  resentments 
longer,  and  would  sometimes  lay  them  by  for 
years,  but  would  be  sure  to  gratify  them  in  the 
end. 

The  ancient  jealousy  between  the  Highlanders 
and  the  Lowlanders  still  continued  to  a  certain 
degree,  the  former  looking  upon  the  latter  as  an 
inferior  race,  less  brave  and  hardy,  but  at  the 
same  time,  suspecting  them  of  a  disposition  to 
take  airs  upon  themselves  under  the  idea  of 
superior  refinement.  This  made  them  techy  and 
ticklish  company  for  a  stranger  on  his  first  com- 
ing among  them  ;  ruffling  up  and  putting  them- 
selves upon  their  mettle  on  the  slightest  occasion, 
so  that  he  had  in  a  manner  to  quarrel  and  fight 
his  way  into  their  good  graces. 

He  instanced  a  case  in  point  in  a  brother  of 
Mungo  Park,  who  went  to  take  up  his  residence  in 
a  wild  neighborhood  of  the  Highlands.  He  soon 
found  himself  considered  as  an  intruder,  and 
that  there  was  a  disposition  among  these  cocks 
of  the  hills,  to  fix  a  quarrel  on  him,  trusting  that, 
being  a  Lowlander,  he  would  show  the  white 
feather. 

For  a  time  he  bore  their  flings  and  taunts  with 
great  coolness,  until  one,  presuming  on  his  for- 
bearance, drew  forth  a  dirk,  and  holding  it  be- 
fore him,  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  seen  a  weapon 
like  that  in  his  part  of  the  country.  Park,  who 
was  a  Hercules  in  frame,  seized  the  dirk,  and, 
with  one  blow,  drove  it  through  an  oaken  table  : 
— "  Yes,"  replied  he,  "and  tell  your  friends  that 
a  man  from  the  Lowlands  drove  it  where  the 
devil  himself  cannot  draw  it  out  again."  All 
persons  were  delighted  with  the  feat,  and  the 
words  that  accompanied  it.  They  drank  with 
Park  to  a  better  acquaintance,  and  were  stanch 
friends  ever  afterward. 


After  dinner  we  adjourned  to  the  drawing- 
room,  which  served  also  for  study  and  library. 
Against  the  wall  on  one  side  was  a  long  writing- 
table,  with  drawers  ;  surmounted  by  a  small 
cabinet  of  polished  wood,  with  folding  doors 
richly  studded  with  brass  ornaments,  within 
which  Scott  kept  his  most  valuable  papers. 
Above  the  cabinet,  in  a  kind  of  niche,  was  a 
complete  corslet  of  glittering  steel,  with  a  closed 
helmet,  and  flanked  by  gauntlets  and  battle- 
axes.  Around  were  hung  trophies  and  relics  of 
various  kinds  :  a  cimeter  of  Tippoo  Saib ;  a 
Highland  broadsword  from  Flodden  Field ;  a  pair 
of  Rippon  spurs  from  Bannockburn  ;  and  above 
all,  a  gun  which  had  belonged  to  Rob  Roy,  and 
bore  his  initials,  R.  M.  G.,  an  object  of  peculiar 
interest  to  me  at  the  time,  as  it  was  understood 
Scott  was  actually  engaged  in  printing  a  novel 
founded  on  the  story  of  that  famous  outlaw. 

On  each  side  of  the  cabinet  were  book-cases, 
well  stored  with  works  of  romantic  fiction  in  vari- 
ous languages,  many  of  them  rare  and  antiquated. 
This,  however,  was  merely  his  cottage  library, 
the  principal  part  of  his  books  being  at  Edin- 
burgh. 

From  this  little  cabinet  of  curiosities  Scott 
drew  forth  a  manuscript  picked  up  on  the  field  of 
Waterloo,  containing  copies  of  several  songs 
popular  at  the  time  in  France.  The  paper  was 
dabbled  with  blood — "  the  very  life-blood,  very 
possibly,"  said  Scott,  "of  some  gay  young  officer, 
who  had  cherished  these  songs  as  a  keepsake 
from  some  lady-love  in  Paris." 

He  adverted,  in  a  mellow  and  delightful  man- 


ner, to  the  little  half-gay,  half- melancholy,  cam- 
paigning song,  said  to  have  been  composed  by 
General  Wolfe,  and  sung  by  him  at  the  mess 
table,  on  the  eve  of  the  storming  of  Quebec,  in 
which  he  fell  so  gloriously : 

(t  Why,  soldiers,  why, 

Should  we  be  melancholy,  boys? 

Why,  soldiers,  why, 

Whose  business  'tis  to  die  ! 

For  should  next  campaign 

Send  us  to  him  who  made  us,  boys, 

We'  re  free  from  pain  : 

But  should  we  remain, 

A  bottle  and  kind  landlady 

Makes  all  well  again." 

"  So,"  added  he,  "  the  poor  lad  who  fell  at 
Waterloo,  in  all  probability,  had  been  singing 
these  songs  in  his  tent  the  night  before  the  battle, 
and  thinking  of  the  fair  dame  who  had  taught  him 
them,  and  promising  himself,  should  he  outlive 
the  campaign,  to  return  to  her  all  glorious  from 
the  wars." 

I  find  since  that  Scott  published  translations  of 
these  songs  among  some  of  his  smaller  poems. 

The  evening  passed  away  delightfully  in  this 
quaint-looking  apartment,  half  study,  half  draw- 
ing-room. Scott  read  several  passages  from  the 
old  romance  of  "Arthur,"  with  a  fine,  deep  sonor- 
ous voice,  and  a  gravity  of  tone  that  seemed  to 
suit  the  antiquated,  black-letter  volume.  It  was 
a  rich  treat  to  hear  such  a  work,  read  by  such  a 
person,  and  in  such  a  place  ;  and  his  appearance 
as  he  sat  reading,  in  a  large  armed  chair,  with  his 
favorite  hound  Maida  at  his  feet,  and  surrounded 
by  books  and  relics,  and  border  trophies,  would 
have  formed  an  admirable  and  most  character- 
istic picture. 

While  Scott  was  reading,  the  sage  grimalkin, 
already  mentioned,  had  taken  his  seat  in  a  chair 
beside  the  fire,  and  remained  with  fixed  eye  and 
grave  demeanor,  as  if  listening  to  the  reader.  I 
observed  to  Scott  that  his  cat  seemed  to  have  a 
black-letter  taste  in  literature. 

"  Ah,"  said  he,  "  these  cats  are  a  very  mysteri- 
ous kind  of  folk.  There  is  always  more  passing 
in  their  minds  than  we  are  aware  of.  It  comes  no 
doubt  from  their  being  so  familiar  with  witches 
and  warlocks."  He  went  on  to  tell  a  little  story 
about  a  gude  man  who  was  returning  to  his  cot- 
tage one  night,  when,  in  a  lonely  out-of-the-way 
place,  he  met  with  a  funeral  procession  of  cats  all 
in  mourning,  bearing  one  of  their  race  to  the  grave 
in  a  coffin  covered  with  a  black  velvet  pall.  The 
worthy  man,  astonished  and  half- frightened  at  so 
strange  a  pageant,  hastened  home  and  told  what 
he  had  seen  to  his  wife  and  children.  Scarce  had 
he  finished,  when  a  great  black  cat  that  sat  be- 
side the  fire  raised  himself  up,  exclaimed  "  Then 
I  am  king  of  the  cats ! "  and  vanished  up  the 
chimney.  The  funeral  seen  by  the  gude  man,  was 
one  of  the  cat  dynasty. 

"  Our  grimalkin  here,"  added  Scott,  "  some- 
times reminds  me  of  the  story,  by  the  airs  of 
sovereignty  which  he  assumes  ;  and  I  am  apt  to 
treat  him  with  respect  from  the  idea  that  he  may 
be  a  great  prince  incog.,  and  may  some  time  or 
other  come  to  the  throne." 

In  this  way  Scott  would  make  the  habits  and 
peculiarities  of  even  the  dumb  animals  about 
him  subjects  for  humorous  remark  or  whimsical 
story. 

Our  evening  was  enlivened  also  by  an  occa- 
sional song  from  Sophia  Scott,  at  the  request 


520 


ABBOTSFORD. 


of  her  father.  She  never  wanted  to  be  asked 
twice,  but  complied  frankly  and  cheerfully.  Her 
songs  were  all  Scotch,  sung  without  any  accom- 
paniment, in  a  simple  manner,  but  with  great 
spirit  and  expression,  and  in  their  native  dialects, 
which  gave  them  an  additional  charm.  It  was 
delightful  to  hear  her  carol  off  in  sprightly  style, 
and  with  an  animated  air,  some  of  those  generous- 
spirited  old  Jacobite  songs,  once  current  among 
the  adherents  of  the  Pretender  in  Scotland,  in 
which  he  is  designated  by  the  appellation  of 
"  The  Young  Chevalier." 

These  songs  were  much  relished  by  Scott,  not- 
withstanding his  loyalty ;  for  the  unfortunate 
"  Chevalier"  has  always  been  a  hero  of  romance 
with  him,  as  he  has  with  many  other  staunch  ad- 
herents to  the  House  of  Hanover,  now  that  the 
Stuart  line  has  lost  all  its  terrors.  In  speaking  on 
the  subject,  Scott  mentioned  as  a  curious  fact, 
that,  among  the  papers  of  the  "  Chevalier,"  which 
had  been  submitted  by  government  to  his  inspec- 
tion, he  had  found  a  memorial  to  Charles  from 
some  adherents  in  America,  dated  1778,  propos- 
ing to  set  up  his  standard  in  the  back  settlements. 
I  regret  that,  at  the  time,  I  did  not  make  more 
particular  inquiries  of  Scott  on  the  subject  ;  the 
document  in  question,  however,  in  all  probability, 
still  exists  among*  the  Pretender's  papers,  which 
are  in  the  possession  of  the  British  Government. 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  Scott  related  the 
story  of  a  whimsical  picture  hanging  in  the  room, 
which  had  been  drawn  for  him  by  a  lady  of  his 
acquaintance.  It  represented  the  doleful  per- 
plexity of  a  wealthy  and  handsome  young  Eng- 
lish knight  of  the  olden  time,  who,  in  the  course 
of  a  border  foray,  had  been  captured  and  carried 
off  to  the  castle  of  a  hard-headed  and  high- 
handed old  baron.  The  unfortunate  youth  was 
thrown  into  a  dungeon,  and  a  tall  gallows  erected 
before  the  castle  gate  for  his  execution.  When 
all  was  ready,  he  was  brought  into  the  castle  hall 
where  the  grim  baron  was  seated  in  state,  with  his 
warriors  armed  to  the  teeth  around  him,  and  was 
given  his  choice,  either  to  swing  on  the  gibbet  or 
to  marry  the  baron's  daughter.  The  last  may  be 
thought  an  easy  alternative,  but  unfortunately, 
the  baron's  young  lady  was  hideously  ugly,  with 
a  mouth  from  ear  to  ear,  so  that  not  a  suitor  was  to 
be  had  for  her,  either  for  love  or  money,  and  she 
was  known  throughout  the  border  country  by  the 
name  of  Muckle-mouthed  Mag ! 

The  picture  in  question  represented  the  un- 
happy dilemma  of  the  handsome  youth.  Before 
him  sat  the  grim  baron,  with  a  face  worthy  of  the 
father  of  such  a  daughter,  and  looking  daggers 
and  rat's-bane.  On  one  side  of  him  was  Muckle- 
mouthed  Mag,  with  an  amorous  smile  across  the 
whole  breadth  of  her  countenance,  and  a  leer 
enough  to  turn  a  man  to  stone ;  on  the  other  side 
was  the  father  confessor,  a  sleek  friar,  jogging 
the  youth's  elbow,  and  pointing  to  the  gallows, 
seen  in  perspective  through  the  open  portal. 

The  story  goes,  that  after  long  laboring  in 
mind,  between  the  altar  and  the  halter,  the  love 
of  life  prevailed,  and  the  youth  resigned  himself 
to  the  charms  of  Muckle-mouthed  Mag.  Con- 
trary to  all  the  probabilities  of  romance,  the 
match  proved  a  happy  one.  The  baron's  daugh- 
ter, if  not  beautiful,  was  a  most  exemplary  wife  ; 
her  husband  was  never  troubled  with  any  of 
those  doubts  and  jealousies  which  sometimes  mar 
the  happiness  of  connubial  life,  and  was  made 
the  father  of  a  fair  and  undoubtedly  legitimate 
line,  which  still  flourishes  on  the  border. 

I   give  but   a  faint  outline  of  the  story  from 


vague  recollection  ;  it  may,  perchance,  be  more 
richly  related  elsewhere,  by  some  one  who  may 
retain  something  of  the  delightful  humor  with 
which  Scott  recounted  it. 

When  I  retired  for  the  night,  I  found  it  almost 
impossible  to  sleep  ;  the  idea  of  being  under  the 
roof  of  Scott ;  of  being  on  the  borders  of  the 
Tweed,  in  the  very  centre  of  that  region  which 
had  for  some  time  past  been  the  favorite  scene 
of  romantic  fiction  ;  and  above  all,  the  recollec- 
tions of  the  ramble  I  had  taken,  the  company  in 
which  I  had  taken  it,  and  the  conversation  which 
had  passed,  all  fermented  in  my  mind,  and 
nearly  drove  sleep  from  my  pillow. 


On  the  following  morning,  the  sun  darted  his 
beams  from  over  the  hills  through  the  low  lattice 
window.  I  rose  at  an  early  hour,  and  looked  out 
between  the  branches  of  eglantine  which  over- 
hung the  casement.  To  my  surprise  Scott  was 
already  up  and  forth,  seated  on  a  fragment  of 
stone,  and  chatting  with  the  workmen  employed 
on  the  new  building.  I  had  supposed,  after  the 
time  he  had  wasted  upon  me  yesterday,  he  would 
be  closely  occupied  this  morning,  but  he  ap- 
peared like  a  man  of  leisure,  who  had  nothing  to 
do  but  bask  in  the  sunshine  and  amuse  himself. 

I  soon  dressed  myself  and  joined  him.  He 
talked  about  his  proposed  plans  of  Abbotsford  ; 
happy  would  it  have  been  for  him  could  he  have 
contented  himself  with  his  delightful  little  vine- 
covered  cottage,  and  the  simple,  yet  hearty  and 
hospitable  style,  in  which  he  lived  at  the  time  of 
my  visit.  The  great  pile  of  Abbotsford,  with  the 
huge  expense  it  entailed  upon  him,  of  servants, 
retainers,  guests,  and  baronial  style,  was  a  drain 
upon  his  purse,  a  tax  upon  his  exertions,  and  a 
weight  upon  his  mind,  that  finally  crushed  him. 

As  yet,  however,  all  was  in  embryo  and  per- 
spective, and  Scott  pleased  himself  with  pictur- 
ing out  his  future  residence,  as  he  would  one  of 
the  fanciful  creations  of  his  own  romances.  "It 
was  one  of  his  air  castles,"  he  said,  "which  he 
was  reducing  to  solid  stone  and  mortar."  About 
the  place  were  strewed  various  morsels  from  the 
ruins  of  Melrose  Abbey,  which  were  to  be  incor- 
porated in  his  mansion.  He  had  already  con- 
structed out  of  similar  materials  a  kind  of  Gothic 
shrine  over  a  spring,  and  had  surmounted  it  by  a 
small  stone  cross. 

Among  the  relics  from  the  Abbey  which  lay 
scattered  before  us,  was  a  most  quaint  and 
antique  little  lion,  either  of  red  stone,  or 
painted  red,  which  hit  my  fancy.  I  forget  whose 
cognizance  it  was  ;  but  I  shall  never  forget  the 
delightful  observations  concerning  old  Melrose  to 
which  it  accidentally  gave  rise. 

The  Abbey  was  evidently  a  pile  that  called  up 
all  Scott's  poetic  and  romantic  feelings  ;  and  one 
to  which  he  was  enthusiastically  attached  by  the 
most  fanciful  and  delightful  of  his  early  associa- 
tions. He  spoke  of  it,  I  may  say,  with  affection. 
"  There  is  no  telling,"  said  he,  "  what  treasures 
are  hid  in  that  glorious  old  pile.  It  is  a  famous 
place  for  antiquarian  plunder  ;  there  are  such 
rich  bits  of  old  time  sculpture  for  the  architect, 
and  old  time  story  for  the. poet.  There  is  as  rare 
picking  in  it  as  a  Stilton  cheese,  and  in  the  same 
taste — the  mouldier  the  better." 

He  went  on  to  mention  circumstances  of 
"mighty  import"  connected  with  the  Abbey, 
which  had  never  been  touched,  and  which  had 
even  escaped  the  researches  of  Johnny  Bower. 


ABBOTSFORD. 


521 


The  heart  of  Robert  Bruce,  the  hero  of  Scotland, 
had  been  buried  in  it.  He  dwelt  on  the  beauti- 
ful story  of  Bruce's  pious  and  chivalrous  request 
in  his  dying  hour,  that  his  heart  might  be  car- 
ried to  the  Holy  Land  and  placed  in  the  Holy 
Sepulchre,  in  fulfilment  of  a  vow  of  pilgrimage  ; 
and  of  the  loyal  expedition  of  Sir  James  Douglas 
to  convey  the  glorious  relic.  Much  might  be 
made,  he  said,  out  of  the  adventures  of  Sir  James 
in  that  adventurous  age  ;  of  his  fortunes  in  Spain, 
and  his  death  in  a  crusade  against  the  Moors  ; 
with  the  subsequent  fortunes  of  the  heart  of 
Robert  Bruce,  until  it  was  brought  back  to  its 
native  land,  and  enshrined  within  the  holy  walls 
of  old  Melrose. 

As  Scott  sat  on  a  stone  talking  in  this  way,  and 
knocking  with  his  staff  against  the  little  red  lion 
which  lay  prostrate  before  him,  his  gray  eyes 
twinkled  beneath  his  shagged  eyebrows  ;  scenes, 
images,  incidents,  kept  breaking  upon  his  mind 
as  he  proceeded,  mingled  with  touches  of  the 
mysterious  and  supernatural  as  connected  with 
the  heart  of  Bruce.  It  seemed  as  if  a  poem  or 
romance  were  breaking  vaguely  on  his  imagina- 
tion. That  he  subsequently  contemplated  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  as  connected  with  this  subject, 
and  with  his  favorite  ruin  of  Melrose,  is  evident 
from  his  introduction  to  "The  Monastery  ; "  and 
it  is  a  pity  that  he  never  succeeded  in  following 
out  these  shadowy,  but  enthusiastic  conceptions. 

A  summons  to  breakfast  broke  off  our  con- 
versation, when  I  begged  to  recommend  to  Scott's 
attention  my  friend  the  little  red  lion,  who  had 
led  to  such  an  interesting  topic,  and  hoped  he 
might  receive  some  niche  or  station  in  the  future 
castle,  worthy  of  his  evident  antiquity  and  ap- 
parent dignity.  Scott  assured  me,  with  comic 
gravity,  that  the  valiant  little  lion  should  be  most 
honorably  entertained  ;  I  hope,  therefore,  that  he 
still  flourishes  at  Abbotsford. 

Before  dismissing  the  theme  of  the  relics  from 
the  Abbey,  I  will  mention  another,  illustrative  of 
Scott's  varied  humors.  This  was  a  human  skull, 
which  had  probably  belonged  of  yore  to  one  of 
those  jovial  friars,  so  honorably  mentioned  in  the 
old  border  ballad  : 

"  O  the  monks  of  Melrose  made  gucle  kale 

On  Fridays,  when  they  fasted  ; 
They  wanted  neither  beef  nor  ale, 
As  long  as  their  neighbors  lasted." 

This  skull  he  had  caused  to  be  cleaned  and  var- 
nished, and  placed  it  on  a  chest  of  drawers  in  his 
chamber,  immediately  opposite  his  bed  ;  where  I 
have  seen  it,  grinning  most  dismally.  It  was  an 
object  of  great  awe  and  horror  to  the  superstitious 
housemaids  ;  and  Scott  used  to  amuse  himself 
with  their  apprehensions.  Sometimes,  in  chang- 
ing his  dress,  he  would  leave  his  neck-cloth  coiled 
round  it  like  a  turban,  and  none  of  the  "lasses" 
dared  to  remove  it.  It  was  a  matter  of  great 
wonder  and  speculation  among  them  that  the 
laird  should  have  such  an  "  awsome  fancy  for  an 
auld  girning  skull." 

At  breakfast  that  morning  Scott  gave  an 
amusing  account  of  a  little  Highlander  called 
Campbell  of  the  North,  who  had  a  lawsuit  of 
many  years'  standing  with  a  nobleman  in  his 
neighborhood  about  the  boundaries  of  their 
estates.  It  was  the  leading  object  of  the  little 
man's  life  ;  the  running  theme  of  all  his  conver- 
sations ;  he  used  to  detail  all  the  circumstances 
at  full  length  to  everybody  he  met,  and,  to  aid 
him  in  his  description  of  the  premises,  and  make 


his  story  "  mair  preceese,"  he  had  a  great  map 
made  of  his  estate,  a  huge  roll  several  feet  long, 
which  he  used  to  carry  about  on  his  shoulder. 
Campbell  was  a  long-bodied,  but  short  and 
bandy-legged  little  man,  always  clad  in  the 
Highland  garb  ;  and  as  he  went  about  with  this 
great  roll  on  his  shoulder,  and  his  little  legs 
curving  like  a  pair  of  parentheses  below  his  kilt, 
he  was  an  odd  figure  to  behold.  He  was  like 
little  David  shouldering  the  spear  of  Goliath, 
which  was  "  like  unto  a  weaver's  beam." 

Whenever  sheep-shearing  was  over,  Campbell 
used  to  set  out  for  Edinburgh  to  attend  to  his 
lawsuit.  At  the  inns  he  paid  double  for  all  his 
meals  and  his  night's  lodgings,  telling  the  land- 
lords to  keep  it  in  mind  until  his  return,  so  that 
he  might  come  back  that  way  at  free  cost ;  for 
he  knew,  he  said,  that  he  would  spend  all  his 
money  among  the  lawyers  at  Edinburgh,  so  he 
thought  it  best  to  secure  a  retreat  home  again. 

On  one  of  his  visits  he  called  upon  his  lawyer, 
but  was  told  he  was  not  at  home,  but  his  lady 
was.  "  It's  just  the  same  thing,"  said  little 
Campbell.  On  being  shown  into  the  parlor,  he 
unrolled  his  map,  stated  his  case  at  full  length, 
and,  having  gone  through  with  his  story,  gave 
her  the  customary  fee.  She  would  have  de- 
clined it,  but  he  insisted  on  her  taking  it.  "  I 
ha'  had  just  as  much  pleasure,"  said  he,  "  in  tell- 
ing the  whole  tale  to  you,  as  I  should  have  had 
in  telling  it  to  your  husband,  and  I  believe  full 
as  much  profit." 

The  last  time  he  saw  ^cott,  he  told  him  he 
believed  he  and  the  laird  were  near  a  settlement, 
as  they  agreed  to  within  a  few  miles  of  the 
boundary.  If  I  recollect  right,  Scott  added  that 
he  advised  the  little  man  to  consign  his  cause 
and  his  map  to  the  care  of"  Slow  Willie  Mow- 
bray,"  of  tedious  memory,  an  Edinburgh  worthy, 
much  employed  by  the  country  people,  for  he 
tired  out  everybody  in  office  by  repeated  visits 
and  drawling,  endless  prolixity,  and  gained  every 
suit  by  dint  of  boring. 

These  little  stories  and  anecdotes,  which 
abounded  in  Scott's  conversation,  rose  naturally 
out  of  the  subject,  and  were  perfectly  unforced  ; 
though,  in  thus  relating  them  in  a  detached  way, 
without  the  observations  or  circumstances  which 
led  to  them,  and  which  have  passed  from  my  re- 
collection, they  want  their  setting  to  give  them 
proper  relief.  They  will  serve,  however,  to  show 
the  natural  play  of  his  mind,  in  its  familiar  moods, 
and  its  fecundity  in  graphic  and  characteristic 
detail. 

His  daughter  Sophia  and  his  son  Charles  were 
those  of  his  family  who  seemed  most  to  feel 
and  understand  his  humors,  and  to  take  delight 
in  his  conversation.  Mrs.  Scott  did  not  always 
pay  the  same  attention,  and  would  now  and  then 
make  a  casual  remark  which  would  operate  a 
little  like  a  damper.  Thus,  one  morning  at 
breakfast,  when  Dominie  Thompson,  the  tutor, 
was  present,  Scott  was  going  on  with  great  glee 
to  relate  an  anecdote  of  the  laird  of  Macnab, 
"  who,  poor  fellow,"  premised  he,  "  is  dead  and 
gon.e— "  "  Why,  Mr.  Scott,"  exclaimed  the 
good  lady,  "  Macnab's  not  dead,  is  he  ? "  "  Faith, 
my  dear,"  replied  Scott,  with  humorous  gravity, 
"  if  he's  not  dead  they've  done  him  great  injus- 
tice— for  they've  buried  him." 

The  joke  passed  harmless  and  unnoticed  by 
Mrs.  Scott,  but  hit  the  poor  Dominie  just  as  he 
had  raised  a  cup  of  tea  to  his  lips,  causing  a 
burst  of  laughter  which  sent  half  of  the  contents 
about  the  table. 


522 


ABBOTSFORD. 


After  breakfast,  Scott  was  occupied  for  some 
time  correcting  proof-sheets  which  he  had  re- 
ceived by  the  mail.  The  novel  of  Rob  Roy,  as  I 
have  already  observed,  was  at  that  time  in  the 
press,  and  I  supposed  them  to  be  the  proof- 
sheets  of  that  work.  The  authorship  of  the 
Waverley  novels  was  still  a  matter  of  conjecture 
and  uncertainty  ;  though  few  doubted  their  being 
principally  written  by  Scott.  One  proof  to  me 
of  his  being  the  author,  was  that  he  never  ad- 
verted to  them.  A  man  so  fond  of  anything 
Scottish,  and  anything  relating  to  national  his- 
tory or  local  legend,  could  not  have  been  mute 
respecting  such  productions,  had  they  been  writ- 
ten by  another.  He  was  fond  of  quoting  the 
works  of  his  contemporaries  ;  he  was  continually 
reciting  scraps  of  border  songs,  or  relating  anec- 
dotes of  border  story.  With  respect  to  his  own 
poems,  and  their  merits,  however,  he  was  mute, 
and  while  with  him  I  observed  a  scrupulous 
silence  on  the  subject. 

I  may  here  mention  a  singular  fact,  of  which  I 
was  not  aware  at  the  time,  that  Scott  was  very  re- 
served with  his  children  respecting  his  own 
writings,  and  was  even  disinclined  to  their  read- 
ing his  romantic  poems.  I  learnt  this,  some 
time  after,  from  a  passage  in  one  of  his  letters 
to  me,  adverting  to  a  set  of  the  American  minia- 
ture edition  of  his  poems,  which,  on  my  return  to 
England,  I  forwarded  to  one  of  the  young  ladies. 
"  In  my  hurry,"  writes  he,  "I  have  not  thanked 
you,  in  Sophia's  name,  for  the  kind  attention 
which  furnished  her  ^ith  the  American  volumes. 
I  am  not  quite  sure  I  can  add  my  own,  since  you 
have  made  her  acquainted  with  much  more  of 
papa's  folly  than  she  would  otherwise  have 
learned ;  for  I  have  taken  special  care  they 
should  never  see  any  of  these  things  during  their 
earlier  years." 

To  return  to  the  thread  of  my  narrative.  When 
Scott  had  got  through  his  brief  literary  occupa- 
tion, we  set  out  on  a  ramble.  The  young  ladies 
started  to  accompany  us,  but  they  had  not  gone 
far,  when  they  met  a  poor  old  laborer  and  his 
distressed  family,  and  turned  back  to  take  them 
to  the  house,  and  relieve  them. 

On  passing  the  bounds  of  Abbotsford,  we  came 
upon  a  bleak-looking  farm,  with  a  forlorn,  crazy 
old  manse,  or  farm-house,  standing  in  naked  desor 
lation.  This,  however,  Scott  told  me,  was  an 
ancient  hereditary  property  called  Lauckend, 
about  as  valuable  as  the  patrimonial  estate  of 
Don  Quixote,  and  which,  in  like  manner,  con- 
ferred an  hereditary  dignity  upon  its  proprietor, 
who  was  a  laird,  and,  though  poor  as  a  rat, 
prided  himself  upon  his  ancient  blood,  and  the 
standing  of  his  house.  He  was  accordingly 
called  Lauckend,  according  to  the  Scottish  cus- 
tom of  naming  a  man  after  his  family  estate,  but 
he  was  more  generally  known  through  the  country 
round  by  the  name  of  Lauckie  Long  Legs,  from 
the  length  of  his  limbs.  While  Scott  was  giving 
this  account  of  him,  we  saw  him  at  a  distance 
striding  along  one  of  his  fields,  with  his  plaid 
fluttering  about  him,  and  he  seemed  well  to  de- 
serve his  appellation,  for  he  looked  all  legs  and 
tartan. 

Lauckie  knew  nothing  of  the  world  beyond  his 
neighborhood.  Scott  told  me  that  on  returning  to 
Abbotsford  from  his  visit  to  France,  immediately 
after  the  war,  he  was  called  on  by  his  neighbors 
generally  to  inquire  after  foreign  parts.  Among 
the  number  came  Lauckie  Long  Legs  and  an  old 
brother  as  ignorant  as  himself.  They  had  many 
inquiries  to  make  about  the  French,  whom  they 


seemed  to  consider  some  remote  and  semi-barbar- 
ous horde — "  And  what  like  are  thae  barbarians 
in  their  own  country  ?"  said  Lauckie,  "  can  they 
write  ?— can  they  cipher  ?"  He  was  quite  aston- 
ished to  learn  that  they  were  nearly  as  much  ad- 
vanced in  civilization  as  the  gude  folks  of  Ab- 
botsford. 

After  living  for  a  long  time  in  single  blessed- 
ness, Lauckie  all  at  once,  and  not  long  before 
my  visit  to  the  neighborhood,  took  it  into  his 
head  to  get  married.  The  neighbors  were  all 
surprised  ;  but  the  family  connection,  who  were 
as  proud  as  they  were  poor,  were  grievously 
scandalized,  for  they  thought  the  young  woman 
on  whom  he  had  set  his  mind  quite  beneath  him. 
It  was  in  vain,  however,  that  they  remonstrated 
on  the  misalliance  he  was  about  to  make  ;  he  was 
not  to  be  swayed  from  his  determination.  Array- 
ing himself  in  his  best,  and  saddling  a  gaunt 
steed  that  might  have  rivalled  Rosinante,  and 
placing  a  pillion  behind  his  saddle,  he  departed 
to  wed  and  bring  home  the  humble  lassie  who 
was  to  be  made  mistress  of  the  venerable  hovel 
of  Lauckend,  and  who  lived  in  a  village  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Tweed. 

A  small  event  of  the  kind  makes  a  great  stir  in 
a  little  quiet  country  neighborhood.  The  word 
soon  circulated  through  the  village  of  Melrose, 
and  the  cottages  in  its  vicinity,  that  Lauckie 
Long  Legs  had  gone  over  the  Tweed  to  fetch 
home  his  bride.  All  the  good  folks  assembled  at 
the  bridge  to  await  his  return.  Lauckie,  however, 
disappointed  them  ;  for  he  crossed  the  river  at  a 
distant  ford,  and  conveyed  his  bride  safe  to  his 
mansion  without  being  perceived. 

Let  me  step  forward  in  the  course  of  events, 
and  relate  the  fate  of  poor  Lauckie,  as  it  was 
communicated  to  me  a  year  or  two  afterward  in 
letter  by  Scott.  From  the  time  of  his  marriage 
he  had  no  longer  any  peace,  owing  to  the  con- 
stant intermeddling  of  his  relations,  who  would 
not  permit  him  to  be  happy  in  his  own  way,  but 
endeavored  to  set  him  at  variance  with  his  wife. 
Lauckie  refused  to  credit  any  of  their  stories  to 
her  disadvantage ;  but  the  incessant  warfare  he 
had  to  wage  in  defence  of  her  good  name,  wore 
out  both  flesh  and  spirit.  His  last  conflict  was 
with  his  own  brothers,  in  front  of  his  paternal 
mansion.  A  furious  scolding  match  took  place 
between  them  ;  Lauckie  made  a  vehement  pro- 
fession of  faith  in  favor  of  her  immaculate  hon- 
esty, and  then  fell  dead  at  the  threshold  of  his 
own  door.  His  person,  his  character,  his  name, 
his  story,  and  his  fate,  entitled  him  to  be  immor- 
talized in  one  of  Scott's  novels,  and  I  looked  to 
recognize  him  in  some  of  the  succeeding  works 
from  his  pen  ;  but  I  looked  in  vain. 


After  passing  by  the  domains  of  honest  Lauckie, 
Scott  pointed  out,  at  a  distance,  the  Eildon 
stone.  There  in  ancient  days  stood  the  Eildon 
tree,  beneath  which  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  ac- 
cording to  popular  tradition,  dealt  forth  his  pro- 
phecies, some  of  which  still  exist  in  antiquated 
ballads. 

Here  we  turned  up  a  little  glen  with  a  small 
burn  or  brook  whimpering  and  dashing  along  it, 
making  an  occasional  waterfall,  and  overhung  in 
some  places  with  mountain  ash  and  weeping 
birch.  We  are  now,  said  Scott,  treading  classic, 
or  rather  fairy  ground.  This  is  the  haunted  glen 
of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  where  he  met  with  the 
queen,  of  fairy  land,  and  this  the  bogle  burn,  or 


ABBOTSFORD. 


523 


goblin  brook,  along  which  she  rode  on  her  dap- 
ple-gray palfrey,  with  silver  bells  ringing  at  the 
bridle. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  pausing,  "is  Huntley  Bank, 
on  which  Thomas  the  Rhymer  lay  musing  and 
sleeping  when  he  saw,  or  dreamt  he  saw,  the 
queen  of  Elfland  : 

"  True  Thomas  lay  on  Huntlie  bank ; 

A  ferlie  he  spied  wi'  his  e'e  ; 
And  there  he  saw  a  ladye  bright, 

Come  riding  down  by  the  Eildon  tree. 

' '  Her  skirt  was  o'  the  grass-green  silk, 

Her  mantle  o'  the  velvet  fyne  ; 
At  ilka  tett  of  her  horse's  mane 
Hung  fifty  siller  bells  and  nine." 

Here  Scott  repeated  several  of  the  stanzas  and 
recounted  the  circumstance  of  Thomas  the  Rhy- 
mer's interview  with  the  fairy,  and  his  being 
transported  by  her  to  fairy  land — 

"  And  til  seven  years  were  gone  and  past, 
True  Thomas  on  earth  was  never  seen." 

"  It  is  a  fine  old  story,"  said  he,  "  and  might  be 
wrought  up  into  a  capital  tale." 

Scott  continued  on,  leading  the  way  as  usual, 
and  limping  up  the  wizard  glen,  talking  as  he 
went,  but,  as  his  back  was  toward  me,  I  could 
only  hear  the  deep  growling  tones  of  his  voice, 
like  the  low  breathing  of  an  organ,  without  dis- 
tinguishing the  words,  until  pausing,  and  turning 
his  face  toward  me,  I  found  he  was  reciting  some 
scrap  of  border  minstrelsy  about  Thomas  the 
Rhymer.  This  was  continually  the  case  in  my 
ramblings  with  him  about  this  storied  neighbor- 
hood. His  mind  was  fraught  with  the  traditionary 
fictions  connected  with  every  object  around  him, 
and  he  would  breathe  it  forth  as  he  went,  ap,- 
parently  as  much  for  his  own  gratification  as  for 
that  of  his  companion. 

"  Nor  hill,  nor  brook,  we  paced  along, 
But  had  its  legend  or  its  song." 

His  voice  was  deep  and  sonorous,  he  spoke  with 
a  Scottish  accent,  and  with  somewhat  of  the 
Northumbrian  "burr,"  which,  to  my  mind,  gave 
a  doric  strength  and  simplicity  to  his  elocution. 
His  recitation  of  poetry  was,  at  times,  magnifi- 
cent. 

I  think  it  was  in  the  course  of  this  ramble  that 
my  friend  Hamlet,  the  black  greyhound,  got  into 
a  bad  scrape.  The  dogs  were  beating  about  the 
glens  and  fields  as  usual,  and  had  been  for  some 
time  out  of  sight,  when  we  heard  a  barking  at 
some  distance  to  the  left.  Shortly  after  we  saw 
some  sheep  scampering  on  the  hills,  with  the 
dogs  after  them.  Scott  applied  to  his  lips  the 
ivory  whistle,  always  hanging  at  his  button-hole, 
and  soon  called  in  the  culprits,  excepting  Ham- 
let. Hastening  up  a  bank  which  commanded  a 
view  along  a  fold  or  hollow  of  the  hills,  we  beheld 
the  sable  prince  of  Denmark  standing  by  the 
bleeding  body  of  a  sheep.  The  carcass  was  still 
warm,  the  throat  bore  marks  of  the  fatal  grip, 
and  Hamlet's  muzzle  was  stained  with  blood. 
Never  was  culprit  more  completely  caught  in 
flagrante  delicto.  I  supposed  the  doom  of  poor 
Hamlet  to  be  sealed  ;  for  no  higher  offence  can 
be  committed  by  a  dog  in  a  country  abounding 
with  sheep-walks.  Scott,  however,  had  a  greater 
value  for  his  dogs  than  for  his  sheep.  They  were 


his  companions  and  friends.  Hamlet,  too,  though 
an  irregular,  impertinent  kind  of  youngster,  was 
evidently  a  favorite.  He  would  not  for  some  time 
believe  it  could  be  he  who  had  killed  the  sheep. 
It  must  have  been  some  cur  of  the  neighborhood, 
that  had  made  off  on  our  approach,  and  left  poor 
Hamlet  in  the  lurch.  Proofs,  however,  were  too 
strong,  and  Hamlet  was  generally  condemned. 
"  Well,  well,"  said  Scott,  "  it's  partly  my  own 
fault.  I  have  given  up  coursing  for  some  time 
past,  and  the  poor  dog  has  had  no  chance  after 
game  to  take  the  fire  edge  off  of  him.  If  he  was 
put  after  a  hare  occasionally  he  never  would 
meddle  with  sheep." 

I  understood,  afterward,  that  Scott  actually 
got  a  pony,  and  went  out  now  and  then  coursing 
with  Hamlet,  who,  in  consequence,  showed  no 
further  inclination  for  mutton. 


A  further  stroll  among  the  hills  brought  us  to 
what  Scott  pronounced  the  remains  of  a  Roman 
camp,  and  as  we  sat  upon  a  hillock  which  had 
once  formed  a  part  of  the  ramparts,  he  pointed 
out  the  traces  of  the  lines  and  bulwarks,  and  the 
praetorium,  and  showed  a  knowledge  of  castram- 
atation  that  would  not  have  disgraced  the  anti- 
quarian Oldbuck  himself.  Indeed,  various  cir- 
cumstances that  I  observed  about  Scott  during 
my  visit,  concurred  to  persuade  me  that  many  of 
the  antiquarian  humors  of  Monkbarns  were  taken 
from  his  own  richly  compounded  character,  and 
that  some  of  the  scenes  arid  personages  of  that 
admirable  novel  were  furnished  by  his  immediate 
neighborhood. 

He  gave  me  several  anecdotes  of  a  noted 
pauper  named  Andrew  Gemmells,  or  Gammel, 
as  it  was  pronounced,  who  had  once  flourished 
on  the  banks  of  Galla  Water,  immediately  op- 
posite Abbotsford,  and  whom  he  had  seen  and 
talked  and  joked  with  when  a  boy  ;  and  I  in- 
stantly recognized  the  likeness  of  that  mirror  of 
philosophic  vagabonds  and  Nestor  of  beggars, 
Edie  Ochiltree.  I  was  on  the  point  of  pronounc- 
ing the  name  and  recognizing  the  portrait,  when 
I  recollected  the  incognito  observed  by  Scott 
with  respect  to  his  novels,  and  checked  myself; 
but  it  was  one  among  many  things  that  tended 
to  convince  me  of  his  authorship. 

His  picture  of  Andrew  Gemmells  exactly  ac- 
corded with  that  of  Edie  as  to  his  height,  car- 
riage, and  soldier-like  air,  as  well  as  his  arch  and 
sarcastic  humor.  His  home,  if  home  he  had,  was 
at  Galashiels  ;  but  he  went  "  daundering  "  about 
the  country,  along  the  green  shaws  and  beside 
the  burns,  and  was  a  kind  of  walking  chronicle 
throughout  the  valleys  of  the  Tweed,  the  Ettrick, 
and  the  Yarrow  ;  carrying  the  gossip  from  house 
to  house,  commenting  on  the  inhabitants  and 
their  concerns,  and  never  hesitating  to  give  them 
a  dry  rub  as  to  any  of  their  faults  or  follies. 

A  shrewd  beggar  like  Andrew  Gemmells,  Scott 
added,  who  could  sing  the  old  Scotch  airs,  tell 
stories  and  traditions,  and  gossip  away  the  long 
winter  evenings,  was  by  no  means  an  unwelcome 
visitor  at  a  lonely  manse  or  cottage.  The  chil- 
dren would  run  to  welcome  him,  and  place  his 
stool  in  a  warm  corner  of  the  ingle  nook,  and  the 
old  folks  would  receive  him  as  a  privileged  guest. 

As  to  Andrew,  he  looked  upon  them  all  as  a 
parson  does  upon  his  parishioners,  and  consid- 
ered the  alms  he  received  as  much  his  due  as  tlfe 
other  does  his  titles.  "  I  rather  think,"  added 
Scott,  "Andrew  considered  himself  more  of  a 


524 


ABBOTSFORD. 


gentleman  than  those  who  toiled  for  a  living,  and 
that  he  secretly  looked  down  upon  the  pains- 
taking peasants  that  fed  and  sheltered  him." 

He  had  derived  his  aristocratical  notions  in 
some  degree  from  being  admitted  occasionally  to 
a  precarious  sociability  with  some  of  the  small 
country  gentry,  who  were  sometimes  in  want  of 
company  to  help  while  away  the  time.  With 
these  Andrew  would  now  and  then  play  at  cards 
and  dice,  and  he  never  lacked  "  siller  in  pouch" 
to  stake  on  a  game,  which  he  did  with  a  perfect 
air  of  a  man  to  whom  money  was  a  matter  of 
little  moment,  and  no  one  could  lose  his  money 
with  more  gentlemanlike  coolness. 

Among  those  who  occasionally  admitted  him  to 
this  familiarity,  was  old  John  Scott  of  Galla,  a 
man  of  family,  who  inhabited  his  paternal  man- 
sion of  Torwoodlee.  Some  distinction  of  rank, 
however,  was  still  kept  up.  The  laird  sat  on  the 
inside  of  the  window  and  the  beggar  on  the  out- 
side, and  they  played  cards  on  the  sill. 

Andrew  now  and  then  told  the  laird  a  piece  of 
his  mind  very  freely ;  especially  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  had  sold  some  of  his  paternal  lands  to 
build  himself  a  larger  house  with  the  proceeds. 
The  speech  of  honest  Andrew  smacks  of  the 
shrewdness  of  Edie  Ochiltree. 

"  It's  a'  varra  weel — it's  a'  varra  weel,  Tor- 
woodlee," said  he  ;  "  but  who  would  ha'  thought 
that  your  father's  son  would  ha'  sold  two  gude 
estates  to  build  a  shaw's  (cuckoo's)  nest  on  the 
side  of  a  hill  ?  " 


That  day  there  was  an  arrival  at  Abbotsford  of 
two  English  tourists  ;  one  a  gentleman  of  fortune 
and  landed  estate,  the  other  a  young  clergy- 
man whom  he  appeared  to  have  under  his  pat- 
ronage, and  to  have  brought  with  him  as  a  travel- 
ling companion. 

The  patron  was  one  of  those  well  bred,  com- 
monplace gentlemen  with  which  England  is  over- 
run. He  had  great  deference  for  Scott,  and 
endeavored  to  acquit  himself  learnedly  in  his 
company,  aiming  continually  at  abstract  disquisi- 
tions, for  which  Scott  had  little  relish.  The  con- 
versation of  the  latter,  as  usual,  was  studded 
with  anecdotes  and  stories,  some  of  them  of 
great  pith  and  humor  ;  the  well-bred  gentleman 
was  either  too  dull  to  feel  their  point,  or  too 
decorous  to  indulge  in  hearty  merriment ;  the 
honest  parson,  on  the  contrary,  who  was  not  too 
refined  to  be  happy,  laughed  loud  and  long  at 
every  joke,  and  enjoyed  them  with  the  zest  of  a 
man  who  has  more  merriment  in  his  heart  than 
coin  in  his  pocket. 

After  they  were  gone,  some  comments  were 
made  upon  their  different  deportments.  Scott 
spoke  very  respectfully  of  the  good  breeding  and 
measured  manners  of  the  man  of  wealth,  but  with 
a  kindlier  feeling  of  the  honest  parson,  and  the 
homely  but  hearty  enjoyment  with  which  he  re- 
lished every  pleasantry.  "  I  doubt,"  said  he, 
"  whether  the  parson's  lot  in  life  is  not  the  best ; 
if  he  cannot  command  as  many  of  the  good 
things  of  this  world  by  his  own  purse  as  his  patron 
can,  he  beats  him  all  hollow  in  his  enjoyment  of 
them  when  set  before  him  by  others.  Upon  the 
whole,"  added  he,  "  I  rather  think  I  prefer  the 
honest  parson's  good  humor  to  his  patron's  good 
breeding ;  I  have  a  great  regard  for  a  hearty 
laugher." 

He  went  on  to  speak  of  the  great  influx  of 
English  travellers  which  of  late  years  had  inun- 


dated Scotland  ;  and  doubted  whether  they  had 
not  injured  the  old-fashioned  Scottish  character. 
"  Formerly  they  came  here  occasionally  as 
sportsmen,"  said  he,  "  to  shoot  moor  game,  with- 
out any  idea  of  looking  at  scenery  ;  and  they 
moved  about  the  country  in  hardy  simple  style, 
coping  with  the  country  people  in  their  own  way  ; 
but  now  they  come  roiling  about  in  their  equi- 
pages, to  see  ruins,  and  spend  money,  and  their 
lavish  extravagance  has  played  the  vengeance 
with  the  common  people.  It  has  made  them 
rapacious  in  their  dealings  with  strangers,  greedy 
after  money,  and  extortionate  in  their  demands 
for  the  most  trivial  services.  Formerly,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  the  poorer  classes  of  our  people  were, 
comparatively,  disinterested  ;  they  offered  their 
services  gratuitously,  in  promoting  the  amuse- 
ment, or  aiding  the  curiosity  of  strangers,  and 
were  gratified  by  the  smallest  compensation  ;  but 
now  they  make  a  trade  of  showing  rocks  and 
ruins,  and  are  as  greedy  as  Italian  cicerones. 
They  look  upon  the  English  as  so  many  walking 
money-bags ;  the  more  they  are  shaken  and 
poked,  the  more  they  will  leave  behind  them." 

I  told  him  that  he  had  a  great  deal  to  answer 
for  on  that  head,  since  it  was  the  romantic  asso- 
ciations he  had  thrown  by  his  writings  over  so 
many  out-of-the-way  places  in  Scotland,  that  had 
brought  in  the  influx  of  curious  travellers. 

Scott  laughed,  and  said  he  believed  I  might  be 
in  some  measure  in  the  right,  as  he  recollected  a 
circumstance  in  point.  Being  one  time  at  Glen- 
ross,  an  old  woman  who  kept  a  small  inn,  which 
had  but  little  custom,  was  uncommonly  officious 
in  her  attendance  upon  him,  and  absolutely  in- 
commoded him  with  her  civilities.  The  secret 
at  length  came  out.  As  he  was  about  to  depart, 
she  addressed  him  with  many  curtsies,  and  said 
she  understood  he  was  the  gentleman  that  had 
written  a  bonnie  book  about  Loch  Katrine.  She 
'begged  him  to  write  a  little  about  their  lake  also, 
for  she  understood  his  book  had  done  the  inn  at 
Loch  Katrine  a  muckle  deal  of  good. 

On  the  following  day  I  made  an  excursion 
with  Scott  and  the  young  ladies  to  Dryburgh 
Abbey.  We  went  in  an  open  carriage,  drawn  by 
two  sleek  old  black  horses,  for  which  Scott 
seemed  to  have  an  affection,  as  he  had  for  every 
dumb  animal  that  belonged  to  him.  Our  road 
lay  through  a  variety  of  scenes,  rich  in  poetical 
and  historical  associations,  about  most  of  which 
Scott  had  something  to  relate.  In  one  part  of 
the  drive,  he  pointed  to  an  old  border  keep,  or 
fortress,  on  the  summit  of  a  naked  hill,  several 
miles  off,  which  he  called  Smallholm  Tower,  and 
a  rocky  knoll  on  which  it  stood,  the  "  Sandy 
Knowe  crags."  It  was  a  place,  he  said,  peculiarly 
dear  to  him,  from  the  recollections  of  childhood. 
His  father  had  lived  there  in  the  old  Smallholm 
Grange,  or  farm-house  ;  and  he  had  been  sent 
there,  when  but  two  years  old,  on  account  of  his 
lameness,  that  he  might  have  the  benefit  of  the 
pure  air  of  the  hills,  and  be  under  the  care  of  his 
grandmother  and  aunts. 

In  the  introduction  of  one  of  the  cantos  of 
Marmion,  he  has  depicted  his  grandfather,  and 
the  fireside  of  the  farm-house  ;  and  has  given  an 
amusing  picture  of  himself  in  his  boyish  years  : 

"  Still  with  vain  fondness  could  I  trace 
Anew  each  kind  familiar  face, 
That  brightened  at  our  evening  fire ; 
From  the  thatched  mansion's  gray-haired  sire, 
Wise  without  learning,  plain  and  good, 
And  sprung  of  Scotland's  gentler  blood ; 


ABBOTSFORD. 


525 


Whose  eye  in  age,  quick,  clear  and  keen, 
Showed  what  in  youth  its  glance  had  been  ; 
Whose  doom  discording  neighbors  sought, 
Content  with  equity  unbought ; 
To  him  the  venerable  priest, 
Our  frequent  and  familiar  guest, 
Whose  life  and  manners  well  could  paint 
Alike  the  student  and  the  saint ; 
Alas  !  whose  speech  too  oft  I  broke 
With  gambol  rude  and  timeless  joke  ; 
For  I  was  wayward,  bold,  and  wild, 
A  self-willed  imp,  a  grandame's  child ; 
But  half  a  plague,  and  half  a  jest, 
Was  still  endured,  beloved,  carest." 

It  was,  he  said,  during  his  residence  at  Small- 
holm  crags  that  he  first  imbibed  his  passion  for 
legendary  tales,  border  traditions,  and  old  na- 
tional songs  and  ballads.  His  grandmother  and 
aunts  were  well  versed  in  that  kind  of  lore,  so 
current  in  Scottish  country  life.  They  used  to 
recount  them  in  long,  gloomy  winter  days,  and 
about  the  ingle  nook  at  night,  in  conclave  with 
their  gossip  visitors  ;  and  little  Walter  would  sit 
and  listen  with  greedy  ear ;  thus  taking  into  his 
infant  mind  the  seeds  of  many  a  splendid  fiction. 

There  was  an  old  shepherd,  he  said,  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  family,  who  used  to  sit  under  the 
sunny  wall,  and  tell  marvellous  stories,  and  re- 
cite old  time  ballads,  as  he  knitted  stockings. 
Scott  used  to  be  wheeled  out  in  his  chair,  in  fine 
weather,  and  would  sit  beside  the  old  man,  and 
listen  to  him  for  hours. 

The  situation  of  Sandy  Knowe  was  favorable 
both  for  story-teller  and  listener.  It  commanded 
a  wide  view  over  all  the  border  country,  with  its 
feudal  towers,  its  haunted  glens,  and  wizard 
streams.  As  the  old  shepherd  told  his  tales,  he 
could  point  out  the  very  scene  of  action.  Thus, 
before  Scott  could  walk,  he  was  made  familiar 
with  the  scenes  of  his  future  stories  ;  they  were 
all  seen  as  through  a  magic  medium,  and  took 
that  tinge  of  romance,  which  they  ever  after  re- 
tained in  his  imagination.  From  the  height  of 
Sandy  Knowe,  he  may  be  said  to  have  had  the 
first  look-out  upon  the  promised  land  of  his 
future  glory. 

On  referring  to  Scott's  works,  I  find  many  of 
the  circumstances  related  in  this  conversation, 
about  the  old  tower,  and  the  boyish  scenes  con- 
nected with  it,  recorded  in  the  introduction  to 
Marmion,  already  cited.  This  was  frequently 
the  case  with  Scott ;  incidents  and  feelings  that 
had  appeared  in  his  writings,  were  apt  to  be 
mingled  up  in  his  conversation,  for  they  had  been 
taken  from  what  he  had  witnessed  and  felt  in 
real  life,  and  were  connected  with  those  scenes 
among  which  he  lived,  and  moved,  and  had  his 
being.  I  make  no  scruple  at  quoting  the  passage 
relative  to  the  tower,  though  it  repeats  much  of 
the  foregone  imagery,  and  with  vastly  superior 
effect : 

"  Thu«,  while  I  ape  the  measure  wild 
Of  tales  that  charmed  me  yet  a  child, 
Rude  though  they  be,  still  with  the  chime 
Return  the  thoughts  of  early  time  ; 
And  feelings  roused  in  life's  first  day, 
Glow  in  the  line,  and  prompt  the  lay. 
Then  rise  those  crags,  that  mountain  tower, 
Which  charmed  my  fancy's  wakening  hour, 
Though  no  broad  river  swept  along 
To  claim  perchance  heroic  song ; 
Though  sighed  no  groves  in  summer  gale 
To  prompt  of  love  a  softer  tale; 
Though  scarce  a  puny  streamlet's  speed 
Claimed  homage  from  a  shepherd's  reed  ; 


Yet  was  poetic  impulse  given, 
By  the  green  hill  and  clear  blue  heaven. 
It  was  a  barren  scene,  and  wild, 
Wh«re  naked  cliffs  were  rudely  piled ; 
But  ever  and  anon  between 
Lay  velvet  tufts  of  loveliest  green; 
And  well  the  lonely  infant  knew 
Recesses  where  the  wall-flower  grew, 
And  honey-suckle  loved  to  crawl 
Up  the  low  crag  and  ruined  wall. 
I  deemed  such  nooks  the  sweetest  shade 
The  sun  in  all  his  round  surveyed  ; 
And  still  I  thought  that  shattered  tower 
The  mightiest  work  of  human  power; 
•    And  marvell'd  as  the  aged  hind 
With  some  strange  tale  bewitched  my  mind, 
Of  forayers,  who,  with  headlong  force, 
Down  from  that  strength  had  spurred  their  horse, 
Their  southern  rapine  to  renew, 
Far  in  the  distant  Cheviot's  blue, 
And,  home  returning,  filled  the  hall 
With  revel,  wassail-rout,  and  brawl — 
Methought  that  still,  with  tramp  and  clang 
Tlie  gate-way's  broken  arches  rang  ; 
Methought  grim  features,  seamed  with  scars, 
Glared  through  the  window's  rusty  bars. 
And  ever  by  the  winter  hearth, 
Old  tales  I  heard  of  woe  or  mirth, 
Of  lovers'  slights,  of  ladies'  charms, 
Of  witches'  spells,  of  warriors'  arms  ; 
Of  patriot  battles,  won  of  old, 
By  Wallace  wight  and  Bruce  the  bold ; 
Of  later  fields  of  feud  and  fight, 
When  pouring  from  the  Highland  height. 
The  Scottish  clans,  in  headlong  sway, 
Had  swept  the  scarlet  ranks  away. 
While  stretched  at  length  upon  the  floor, 
Again  I  fought  each  combat  o'er. 
Pebbles  and  shells,  in  order  laid, 
The  mimic  ranks  of  war  displayed  ; 
And  onward  still  the  Scottish  Lion  bore. 
And  still  the  scattered  Southron  fled  before." 

Scott  eyed  the  distant  height  of  Sandy  Knowe 
with  an  earnest  gaze  as  we  rode  along,  and  said 
he  had  often  thought  of  buying  the  place,  repair- 
ing the  old  tower,  and  making  it  his  residence. 
He  has  in  some  measure,  however,  paid  off  his 
early  debt  of  gratitude,  in  clothing  it  with  poetic 
and  romantic  associations,  by  his  tale  of  "  The 
Eve  of  St.  John."  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  those 
who  actually  possess  so  interesting  a  monument 
of  Scott's  early  days,  will  preserve  it  from  further 
dilapidation. 

Not  far  from  Sandy  Knowe,  Scott  pointed  out 
another  old  border  hold,  standing  on  the  summit 
of  a  hill,  which  had  been  a  kind  of  enchanted 
castle  to  him  in  his  boyhood.  It  was  the  tower  of 
Bemerside,  the  baronial  residence  of  the  Haigs, 
or  De  Hagas,  one  of  the  oldest  families  of  the 
border.  "  There  had  seemed  to  him,"  he  said, 
"  almost  a  wizard  spell  hanging  over  it,  in  conse- 
quence of  a  prophecy  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  in 
which,  in  his  young  days,  he  most  potently  be- 
lieved : " 

"  Betide,  betide,  whate'er  betide, 
Haig  shall  be  Ilaigof  Bemerside." 

Scott  added  some  particulars  which  showed 
that,  in  the  present  instance,  the  venerable 
Thomas  had  not  proved  a  false  prophet,  for  it 
was  a  noted  fact  that,  amid  all  the  changes  and 
chances  of  the  border ;  through  all  the  feuds,  and 
forays,  and  sackings,  and  burnings,  which  had 
reduced  most  of  the  castles  to  ruins,  and  the 
proud  families  that  once  possessed  them  to 
poverty,  the  tower  of  Bemerside  still  remained 


526 


ABBOTSFORD. 


unscathed,  and  was  still  the  stronghold  of  the 
ancient  family  of  Haig. 

Prophecies,  however,  often  insure  their  own 
fulfilment.  It  is  very  probable  that  the  predic- 
tion of  Thomas  the  Rhymer  has  linked  the  Haigs 
to  their  tower,  as  their  rock  of  safety,  and  has 
induced  them  to  cling  to  it  almost  superstitiously, 
through  hardships  and  inconveniences  that  would, 
otherwise,  have  caused  its  abandonment. 

I  afterward  saw,  at  Dryburgh  Abbey,  the  bury- 
ing place  of  this  predestinated  and  tenacious  fam- 
ily, the  inscription  of  which  showed  the  value  they 
set  upon  their  antiquity  : 

Locus  Sepulturae, 
Antiquessimoe  Familiae 

De  Haga 
De  Bemerside. 

In  reverting  to  the  days  of  his  childhood,  Scott 
observed  that  the  lameness  which  had  disabled 
him  in  infancy  gradually  decreased  ;  he  soon  ac- 
quired strength  in  his  limbs,  and  though  he  always 
limped,  he  became,  even  in  boyhood,  a  great 
walker.  He  used  frequently  to  stroll  from  home 
and  wander  about  the  country  for  days  together, 
picking  up  all  kinds  of  local  gossip,  and  observ- 
ing popular  scenes  and  characters.  His  father 
used  to  be  vexed  with  him  for  this  wandering  pro- 
pensity, and,  shaking  his  head,  would  say  he 
fancied  the  boy  would  make  nothing  but  a  ped- 
dler. As  he  grew  older  he  became  a  keen  sports- 
man, and  passed  much  of  his  time  hunting  and 
shooting.  His  field  sports  led  him  into  the  most 
wild  and  unfrequented  parts  of  the  country,  and 
in  this  way  he  picked  up  much  of  that  local  knowl- 
edge which  he  has  since  evinced  in  his  writings. 

His  first  visit  to  Loch  Katrine,  he  says,  was  in 
his  boyish  days,  on  a  shooting  excursion.  The 
island,  which  he  has  made  the  romantic  residence 
of  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  was  then  garrisoned 
by  an  old  man  and  his  wife.  Their  house  was 
vacant ;  they  had  put  the  key  under  the  door, 
and  were  absent  fishing.  It  was  at  that  time  a 
peaceful  residence,  but  became  afterward  a  re- 
sort of  smugglers,  until  they  were  ferreted  out. 

In  after  years,  when  Scott  began  to  turn  this 
local  knowledge  to  literary  account,  he  revisited 
many  of  those  scenes  of  his  early  ramblings,  and 
endeavored  to  secure  the  fugitive  remains  of  the 
traditions  and  songs  that  had  charmed  his  boy- 
hood. When  collecting  materials  for  his  "  Bor- 
der Minstrelsy,"  he  used,  he  said,  to  go  from  cot- 
tage to  cottage,  and  make  the  old  wives  repeat 
all  they  knew,  if  but  two  lines ;  and  by  putting 
these  scraps  together,  he  retrieved  many  a  fine 
characteristic  old  ballad  ortradition  from  oblivion. 

I  regret  to  say  that  I  can  scarce  recollect  any- 
thing of  our  visit  to  Dryburgh  Abbey.  It  is  on 
the  estate  of  the  Earl  of  Buchan.  The  religious 
edifice  is  a  mere  ruin,  rich  in  Gothic  antiquities, 
but  especialy  interesting  to  Scott,  from  contain- 
ing the  family  vault,  and  the  tombs  and  monu- 
ments of  his  ancestors.  He  appeared  to  feel 
much  chagrin  at  their  being  in  the  possession, 
and  subject  to  the  intermeddlings  of  the  Earl, 
who  was  represented  as  a  nobleman  of  an  eccen- 
tric character.  The  latter,  however,  set  great 
value  on  these  sepulchral  relics,  and  had  ex- 
pressed a  lively  anticipation  of  one  day  or  other 
having  the  honor  of  burying  Scott,  and  adding 
his  monument  to  the  collection,  which  he  intended 
should  be  worthy  of  the  "  mighty  minstrel  of  the 
north  " — a  prospective  compliment  which  was  by 
no  means  relished  by  the  object  of  it. 


One  of  my  pleasant  rambles  with  Scott,  about 
the  neighborhood  of  Abbotsford,  was  taken  in 
company  with  Mr.  William  Laidlaw,  the  steward 
of  his  estate.  This  was  a  gentleman  for  whom 
Scott  entertained  a  particular  value.  He  had 
been  born  to  a  competency,  had  been  well 
educated,  his  mind  was  richly  stored  with  varied 
information,  and  he  was  a  man  of  sterling  moral 
worth.  Having  been  reduced  by  misfortune, 
Scott  had  got  him  to  take  charge  of  his  estate. 
He  lived  at  a  small  farm  on  the  hillside  above 
Abbotsford,  and  was  treated  by  Scott  as  a 
cherished  and  confidential  friend,  rather  than  a 
dependent. 

As  the  day  was  showery,  Scott  was  attended  by 
one  of  his  retainers,  named  Tommie  Purdie,  who 
carried  his  plaid,  and  who  deserves  especial  men- 
tion. Sophia  Scott  used  to  call  him  her  father's 
grand  vizier,  and  she  gave  a  playful  account  one 
evening,  as  she  was  hanging  on  her  father's  arm, 
of  the  consultations  which  he  and  Tommie  used 
to  have  about  matters  relative  to  farming. 
Purdie  was  tenacious  of  his  opinions,  and  he  and 
Scott  would  have  long  disputes  in  fron.t  of  the 
house,  as  to  something  that  was  to  be  done  on 
the  estate,  until  the  latter,  fairly  tired  out,  would 
abandon  the  ground  and  the  argument,  exclaim- 
ing, "  Well,  well,  Tom,  have  it  your  own  way." 

After  a  time,  however,  Purdie  would  present 
himself  at  the  door  of  the  parlor,  and  observe, 
"  I  ha'  been  thinking  over  the  matter,  and  upon 
the  whole,  I  think  I'll  take  your  honor's  advice." 

Scott  laughed  heartily  when  this  anecdote  was 
told  of  him.  "It  was  with  him  and  Tom,"  he 
said,  "as  it  was  with  an  old  laird  and  a  pet  ser- 
vant, whom  he  had  indulged  until  he  was  positive 
beyond  all  endurance."  "  This  won't  do  !  "  cried 
the  old  laird,  in  a  passion,  "we  can't  live  to- 
gether any  longer — we  must  part."  "  An'  where 
the  deil  does  your  honor  mean  to  go  ? "  replied 
the  other. 

I  would,  moreover,  observe  of  Tom  Purdie,  that 
he  was  a  firm  believer  in  ghosts,  and  warlocks, 
and  all  kinds  of  old  wives'  fable.  He  was  a  religious 
man,  too,  mingling  a  little  degree  of  Scottish 
pride  in  his  devotion  ;  for  though  his  salary  was 
but  twenty  pounds  a  year,  he  had  managed  to 
afford  seven  pounds  for  a  family  Bible.  It  is 
true,  he  had  one  hundred  pounds  clear  of  the 
world,  and  was  looked  up  to  by  his  comrades  as 
a  man  of  property. 

In  the  course  of  our  morning's  walk,  we  stopped 
at  a  small  house  belonging  to  one  of  the 
laborers  on  the  estate.  The  object  of  Scott's  visit 
was  to  inspect  a  relic  which  had  been  digged  up 
in  a  Roman  camp,  and  which,  if  I  recollect  right, 
he  pronounced  to  have  been  a  tongs.  It  was 
produced  by  the  cottager's  wife,  a  ruddy,  healthy- 
looking  dame,  whom  Scott  addressed  by  the 
name  of  Ailie.  As  he  stood  regarding  the  relic, 
turning  it  round  and  round,  and  making  com- 
ments upon  it,  half  grave,  half  comic,  with  the 
cottage  group  around  him,  all  joining  occasion- 
ally in  the  colloquy,  the  inimitable  character  of 
Monkbarns  was  again  brought  to  mind,  and  I 
seemed  to  see  before  me  that  prince  of  antiqua- 
rians and  humorists  holding  forth  to  his  unlearned 
and  unbelieving  neighbors. 

Whenever  Scott  touched,  in  this  way,  upon 
local  antiquities,  and  in  all  his  familiar  conversa- 
tions about  local  traditions  and  superstitions, 
there  was  always  a  sly  and  quiet  humor  running 
at  the  bottom  of  his  discourse,  and  playing  about 
his  countenance,  as  if  he  sported  with  the  sub- 
ject. It  seemed  to  me  as  if  he  distrusted  his 


ABBOTSFORD. 


527 


own  enthusiasm,  and  was  disposed  to  droll  upon 
his  own  humors  and  peculiarities,  yet,  at  the 
same  time,  a  poetic  gleam  in  his  eye  would  show 
that  he  really  took  a  strong  relish  and  interest  in 
them.  "It  was  a  pity,"  he  said,  "that  anti- 
quarians were  generally  so  dry,  for  the  subjects 
they  handled  were  rich  in  historical  and  poetical 
recollections,  in  picturesque  details,  in  quaint 
and  heroic  characteristics,  and  in  all  kinds  of 
curious  and  obsolete  ceremonials.  They  are  al- 
ways groping  among  the  rarest  materials  for 
poetry,  but  they  have  no  idea  of  turning  them  to 
poetic  use.  Now  every  fragment  from  old  times 
has,  in  some  degree,  its  story  with  it,  or  gives  an 
inkling  of  something  characteristic  of  the  cir- 
cumstances and  manners  of  its  day,  and  so  sets 
the  imagination  at  work." 

For  my  own  part  I  never  met  with  antiquarian 
so  delightful,  either  in  his  writings  or  his  con- 
versation ;  and  the  quiet  subacid  humor  that 
was  prone  to  mingle  in  his  disquisitions,  gave 
them,  to  me,  a  peculiar  and  an  exquisite  flavor. 
But  he  seemed,  in  fact,  to  undervalue  every- 
thing that  concerned  himself.  The  play  of  his 
genius  was  so  easy  that  he  was  unconscious  of  its 
mighty  power,  and  made  light  of  those  sports  of 
intellect  that  shamed  the  efforts  and  labors  of 
other  minds. 

Our  ramble  this  morning  took  us  again  up 
the  Rhymer's  Glen,  and  by  Huntley  Bank,  and 
Huntley  Wood,  and  the  silver  waterfall  overhung 
with  weeping  birches  and  mountain  ashes,  those 
delicate  and  beautiful  trees  which  grace  the  green 
shaws  and  burnsides  of  Scotland.  The  heather, 
too,  that  closely  woven  robe  of  Scottish  land- 
scape which  covers  the  nakedness  of  its  hills  and 
mountains,  tinted  the  neighborhood  with  soft 
and  rich  colors.  As  we  ascended  the  glen,  the 
prospects  opened  upon  us ;  Melrose,  with  its 
towers  and  pinnacles,  lay  below ;  beyond  was  the 
Eildon  hills,  the  Cowden  Knowes,  the  Tweed, 
the  Galla  Water,  and  all  the  storied  vicinity ;  the 
whole  landscape  varied  by  gleams  of  sunshine 
and  driving  showers. 

Scott,  as  usual,  took  the  lead,  limping  along 
with  great  activity,  and  in  joyous  mood,  giving 
scraps  of  border  rhymes  and  border  stories  ;  two 
or  three  times  in  the  course  of  our  walk  there 
were  drizzling  showers,  which  I  supposed  would 
put  an  end  to  our  ramble,  but  my  companions 
trudged  on  as  unconcernedly  as  if  it  had  been  fine 
weather. 

At  length,  I  asked  whether  we  had  not  better 
seek  some  shelter.  "  True,"  said  Scott,  "  I  did 
not  recollect  that  you  were  not  accustomed  to  our 
Scottish  mists.  This  is  a  lachrymose  climate, 
evermore  showering.  We,  however,  are  children 
of  the  mist,  and  must  not  mind  a  little  whimper- 
ing of  the  clouds  any  more  than  a  man  must  mind 
the  weeping  of  an  hysterical  wife.  As  you  are 
not  accustomed  to  be  wet  through,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  in  a  morning's  walk,  we  will  bide  a  bit 
under  the  lee  of  this  bank  until  the  shower  is 
over."  Taking  his  seat  under  shelter  of  a  thicket, 
he  called  to  his  man  George  for  his  tartan,  then 
turning  to  me,  "Come,"  said  he,  "come  under 
my  plaidy,  as  the  old  song  goes  ;  "  so,  making 
me  nestle  down  beside  him,  he  wrapped  a  part  of 
the  plaid  round  me,  and  took  me,  as  he  said, 
under  his  wing. 

While  we  were  thus  nestled  together,  he 
pointed  to  a  hole  in  the  opposite  bank  of  the  glen. 
That,  he  said,  was  the  hole  of  an  old  gray 
badger,  who  was  doubtless  snugly  housed  in  this 
bad  weather.  Sometimes  he  saw  him  at  the 


entrance  of  his  hole,  like  a  hermit  at  the  door  of 
his  cell,  telling  his  beads,  or  reading  a  homily. 
He  had  a  great  respect  for  the  venerable  ancho- 
rite, and  would  not  suffer  him  to  be  disturbed. 
He  was  a  kind  of  successor  to  Thomas  the 
Rhymer,  and  perhaps  might  be  Thomas  himself 
returned  from  fairy  land,  but  still  under  fairy 
spell. 

Some  accident  turned  the  conversation  upon 
Hogg,  the  poet,  in  which  Laidlaw,  who  was 
seated  beside  us,  took  a  part.  Hogg  had  once 
been  a  shepherd  in  the  service  of  his  father,  and 
Laidlaw  gave  many  interesting  anecdotes  of  him, 
of  which  I  now  retain  no  recollection.  They 
used  to  tend  the  sheep  together  when  Laidlaw 
was  a  boy,  and  Hogg  would  recite  the  first  strug- 
gling conceptions  of  his  muse.  At  night  when 
Laidlaw  was  quartered  comfortably  in  bed,  in 
the  farmhouse,  poor  Hogg  would  take  to  the 
shepherd's  hut  in  the  field  on  the  hillside,  and 
there  lie  awake  for  hours  together,  and  look  at 
the  stars  and  make  poetry,  which  he  would  re- 
peat the  next  day  to  his  companion. 

Scott  spoke  in  warm  terms  of  Hogg,  and  re- 
peated passages  from  his  beautiful  poem  of 
"  Kelmeny,"  to  which  he  gave  great  and  well-mer- 
ited praise.  He  gave,  also,  some  amusing  anec- 
dotes of  Hogg  and  his  publisher,  Blackwood, 
who  was  at  that  time  just  rising  into  the  biblio- 
graphical importance  which  he  has  since  enjoyed. 

Hogg,  in  one  of  his  poems,  I  believe  the  "  Pil- 
grims of  the  Sun,"  had  dabbled  a  little  in  meta- 
physics, and  like  his  heroes,  had  got  into  the 
clouds.  Blackwood,  who  began  to  affect  criti- 
cism, argued  stoutly  with  him  as  to  the  necessity 
of  omitting  or  elucidating  some  obscure  passage. 
Hogg  was  immovable. 

"  But,  man,"  said  Blackwood,  "  I  dinna  ken 
what  ye  mean  in  this  passage."  "Hout  tout, 
man,"  replied  Hogg,  impatiently,  "  I  dinna  ken 
always  what  I  mean  mysel."  There  is  many  a 
metaphysical  poet  in  the  same  predicament  with 
honest  Hogg. 

Scott  promised  to  invite  the  Shepherd  to 
Abbotsford  during  my  visit,  and  I  anticipated 
much  gratification  in  meeting  with  him,  from  the 
account  I  had  received  of  his  character  and 
manners,  and  the  great  pleasure  I  had  derived 
from  his  works.  Circumstances,  however,  pre- 
vented Scott  from  performing  his  promise  ;  and 
to  my  great  regret  I  left  Scotland  without  seeing 
one  of  its  most  original  and  national  characters. 

When  the  weather  held  up,  we  continued  our 
walk  until  we  came  to  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water, 
in  the  bosom  of  the  mountain,  called,  if  I  recol- 
lect right,  the  lake  of  Cauldshiel.  Scott  prided 
himself  much  upon  this  little  Mediterranean  sea 
in  his  dominions,  and  hoped  I  was  not  too  much 
spoiled  by  our  great  lakes  in  America  to  relish 
it.  He  proposed  to  take  me  out  to  the  centre  of 
it,  to  a  fine  point  of  view,  for  which  purpose  we 
embarked  in  a  small  boat,  which  had  been  put 
on  the  lake  by  his  neighbor,  Lord  Somerviile. 
As  I  was  about  to  step  on  board,  I  observed  in 
large  letters  on  one  of  the  benches,  "  Search  No. 
2."  I  paused  for  a  moment  and  repeated  the  in- 
scription aloud,  trying  to  recollect  something  I 
had  heard  or  read  to  which  it  alluded.  "  Pshaw," 
cried  Scott,  "it  is  only  some  of  Lord  Somer- 
ville's  nonsense — get  in  !  "  In  an  instant  scenes 
in  the  Antiquary  connected  with  "  Search  No.  i," 
flashed  upon  my  mind.  "  Ah !  I  remember 
now,"  said  I,  and  with  a  laugh  took  my  se'at,  but 
adverted  no  more  to  the  circumstance. 

We  had  a  pleasant  row  about  the  lake,  which 


528 


ABBOTSFORD. 


commanded  some  pretty  scenery.  The  most  in- 
teresting circumstance  connected  with  it,  how- 
ever, according  to  Scott,  was,  that  it  was  haunted 
by  a  bogle  in  the  shape  of  a  water  bull,  which 
lived  in  the  deep  parts,  and  now  and  then  came 
forth  upon  dry  land  and  made  a  tremendous  roar- 
ing, that  shook  the  very  hills.  This  story  had 
been  current  in  the  vicinity  from  time  immemo- 
rial ;  — there  was  a  man  living  who  declared  he 
had  seen  the  bull,— and  he  was  believed  by  many 
of  his  simple  neighbors.  "  I  don't  choose  to 
contradict  the  tale,"  said  Scott,  "  for  I  am  will- 
ing to  have  my  lake  stocked  with  any  fish,  flesh, 
or  fowl  that  my  neighbors  think  proper  to  put 
into  it ;  and  these  old  wives'  fables  are  a  kind  of 
property  in  Scotland  that  belongs  to  the  estates 
and  go  with  the  soil.  Our  streams  and  lochs 
are  like  the  rivers  and  pools  in  Germany,  that 
have  all  their  Wasser  Nixe,  or  water  witches, 
and  I  have  a  fancy  for  these  kind  of  amphibious 
bogles  and  hobgoblins." 


Scott  went  on  after  we  had  landed  to  make 
many  remarks,  mingled  with  picturesque  anec- 
dotes, concerning  the  fabulous  beings  with  which 
the  Scotch  were  apt  to  people  the  wild  streams 
and  lochs  that  occur  in  the  solemn  and  lonely 
scenes  of  their  mountains  ;  and  to  compare  them 
with  similar  superstitions  among  the  northern 
nations  of  Europe  ;  but  Scotland,  he  said,  was 
above  all  other  countries  for  this  wild  and  vivid 
progeny  of  the  fancy,  from  the  nature  of  the 
scenery,  the  misty  magnificence  and  vagueness 
of  the  climate,  the  wild  and  gloomy  events  of 
its  history  ;  the  clannish  divisions  of  its  people  ; 
their  local  feelings,  notions  and  prejudices  ;  the 
individuality  of  their  dialect,  in  which  all  kinds 
of  odd  and  peculiar  notions  were  incorporated  ;  by 
the  secluded  life  of  their  mountaineers  ;  the  lonely 
habits  of  their  pastoral  people,  much  of  whose 
time  was  passed  on  the  solitary  hillsides  ;  their 
traditional  songs,  which  clothed  every  rock  and 
stream  with  old  world  stories,  handed  down  from 
age  to  age,  and  generation  to  generation.  The 
Scottish  mind,  he  said,  was  made  up  of  poetry 
and  strong  common  sense  ;  and  the  very  strength 
of  the  latter  gave  perpetuity  and  luxuriance  to 
the  former.  It  was  a  strong  tenacious  soil,  into 
which,  when  once  a  seed  of  poetry  fell,  it  struck 
deep  root  and  brought  forth  abundantly.  "  You 
will  never  weed  these  popular  stories  and  songs 
and  superstitions  out  of  Scotland,"  said  he.  "  It 
is  not  so  much  that  the  people  believe  in  them, 
as  that  they  delight  in  them.  They  belong  to  the 
native  hills  and  streams  of  which  they  are  fond, 
and  to  the  history  of  their  forefathers,  of  which 
they  are  proud." 

"  It  would  do  your  heart  good,"  continued  he, 
"  to  see  a  number  of  our  poor  country  people 
peated  round  the  ingle  nook,  which  is  generally 
capacious  enough,  and  passing  the  long  dark 
dreary  winter  nights  listening  to  some  old  wife, 
or  strolling  gaberlunzie,  dealing  out  auld  world 
stones  about  bogles  and  warlocks,  or  about  raids 
and  forays,  and  border  skirmishes  ;  or  reciting 
some  ballad  stuck  full  of  those  fighting  names 
that  stir  up  a  true  Scotchman's  blood  like  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet.  These  traditional  tales  and 
ballads  have  lived  for  ages  in  mere  oral  circula- 
tion, being  passed  from  father  .to  son,  or  rather 
from  grandam  to  grandchild,  and  are  a  kind  of 
hereditary  property  of  the  poor  peasantry,  of 
which  it  would  be  hard  to  deprive  them,  as  they 


have  not  circulating  libraries  to  supply  them  with 
works  of  fiction  in  their  place." 

I  do  not  pretend  to  give  the  precise  words,  but, 
as  nearly  as  I  can  from  scanty  memorandums 
and  vague  recollections,  the  leading  ideas  of 
Scott.  I  am  constantly  sensible,  however,  how 
far  I  fall  short  of  his  copiousness  and  richness. 

He  went  on  to  speak  of  the  elves  and  sprites, 
so  frequent  in  Scottish  legend.  "  Our  fairies, 
however,"  said  he,  "  though  they  dress  in  green, 
and  gambol  by  moonlight  about  the  banks,  and 
shaws,  and  burnsides,  are  not  such  pleasant  little 
folks  as  the  English  fairies,  but  are  apt  to  bear 
more  of  the  warlock  in  their  natures,  and  to  play 
spiteful  tricks.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  used  to 
look  wistfully  at  the  green  hillocks  that  were 
said  to  be  haunted  by  fairies,  and  felt  sometimes 
as  if  I  should  like  to  lie  down  by  them  and  sleep, 
and  be  carried  off  to  Fairy  Land,  only  that  I  did 
not  like  some  of  the  cantrips  which  used  now  and 
then  to  be  played  off  upon  visitors." 

Here  Scott  recounted,  in  graphic  style,  and 
with  much  humor,  a  little  story  which  used  to  be 
current  in  the  neighborhood,  of  an  honest  bur- 
gess of  Selkirk,  who,  being  at  work  upon  the  hill 
of  Peatlaw,  fell  asleep  upon  one  of  these  "  fairy 
knowes,"  or  hillocks.  When  he  awoke,  he 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  gazed  about  him  with  aston- 
ishment, for  he  was  in  the  market-place  of  a 
great  city,  with  a  crowd  of  people  bustling  about 
him,  not  one  of  whom  he  knew.  At  length  he 
accosted  a  bystander,  and  asked  him  the  name 
of  the  place.  "  Hout  man,"  replied  the  other, 
"are  ye  in  the  heart  o'  Glasgow,  and  speer  the 
name  of  it  ?  "  The  poor  man  was  astonished, 
and  would  not  believe  either  ears  or  eyes;  he 
insisted  that  he  had  laid  down  to  sleep  but  half 
an  hour  before  011  the  Peatlaw,  near  Selkirk. 
He  came  well  nigh  being  taken  up  for  a  madman, 
when,  fortunately,  a  Selkirk  man  came  by,  who 
knew  him,  and  took  charge  of  him,  and  con- 
ducted him  back  to  his  native  place.  Here, 
however,  he  was  likely  to  fare  no  better,  when  he 
spoke  of  having  been  whisked  in  his  sleep  from 
the  Peatlaw  to  Glasgow.  The  truth  of  the  matter 
at  length  came  out ;  his  coat,  which  he  had  taken 
off  when  at  work  on  the  Peatlaw,  was  found  lying 
near  a  "  fairy  knowe,"  and  his  bonnet,  which 
was  missing,  was  discovered  on  the  weathercock 
of  Lanark  steeple.  So  it  was  as  clear  as  day 
that  he  had  been  carried  through  the  air  by  the 
fairies  while  he  was  sleeping,  and  his  bonnet  had 
been  blown  off  by  the  way. 

I  give  this  little  story  but  meagrely  from  a 
scanty  memorandum  ;  Scott  has  related  it  in 
somewhat  different  style  in  a  note  to  one  of  his 
poems  ;  but  in  narration  these  anecdotes  derived 
their  chief  zest,  from  the  quiet  but  delightful 
humor,  the  bonhomie  with  which  he  seasoned 
them,  and  the  sly  glance  of  the  eye  from  under 
his  bushy  eyebrows,  with  which  they  were  accom- 
panied. 


That  day  at  dinner,  we  had  Mr.  Laidlaw  and 
his  wife,  and  a  female  friend  who  accompanied 
them.  The  latter  was  a  very  intelligent,  respect- 
able person,  about  the  middle  age,  and  was 
treated  with  particular  attention  and  courtesy  by 
Scott.  Our  dinner  was  a  most  agreeable  one  ; 
for  the  guests  were  evidently  cherished  visitors 
to  the  house,  and  felt  that  they  were  appreciated. 

When  they  were  gone,  Scott  spoke  of  them  in 
the  most  cordial  manner.  "I  wished  to  show 


ABBOTSFORD. 


529 


you,"  said  he,  "some  of  our  really  excellent,  plain 
Scotch  people  ;  not  fine  gentlemen  and  ladies, 
for  such  you  can  meet  everywhere,  and  they  are 
everywhere  the  same.  The  character  of  a  na- 
tion is  not  to  be  learnt  from  its  fine  folks." 

He  then  went  on  with  a  particular  eulogium  on 
the  lady  who  had  accompanied  the  Laidlaws. 
She  was  the  daughter,  he  said,  of  a  poor  country 
clergyman,  who  had  died  in  debt,  and  left  her  an 
orphan  and  destitute.  Having  had  a  good  plain 
education,  she  immediately  set  up  a  child's  school, 
and  had  soon  a  numerous  flock  under  her  care, 
by  which  she  earned  a  decent  maintenance. 
That,  however,  was  not  her  main  object.  Her 
first  care  was  to  pay  off  her  father's  debts,  that 
no  ill  word  or  ill  will  might  rest  upon  his  memory. 

This,  by  dint  of  Scottish  economy,  backed  by 
filial  reverence  and  pride,  she  accomplished, 
though  in  the  effort,  she  subjected  herself  to 
every  privation.  Not  content  with  this,  she  in 
certain  instances  refused  to  take  pay  for  the  tui- 
tion of  the  children  of  some  of  her  neighbors, 
who  had  befriended  her  father  in  his  need,  and 
had  since  fallen  into  poverty.  "  In  a  word," 
added  Scott,  "  she  is  a  fine  old  Scotch  girl ;  and 
I  delight  in  her,  more  than  in  many  a  fine  lady  I 
have  known,  and  I  have  known  many  of  the 
finest." 


It  is  time,  however,  to  draw  this  rambling  nar- 
rative to  a  close.  Several  days  were  passed  by 
me,  in  the  way  I  have  attempted  to  describe,  in 
almost  constant,  familiar,  and  joyous  conversa- 
tion with  Scott  ;  it  was  as  if  I  were  admitted  to 
a  social  communion  with  Shakespeare,  for  it  was 
with  one  of  a  kindred,  if  not  equal  genius. 
Every  night  I  retired  with  my  mind  filled  with 
delightful  recollections  of  the  day,  and  every 
morning  I  rose  with  the  certainty  of  new  enjoy- 
ment. The  days  thus  spent,  I  shall  ever  look 
back  to,  as  among  the  very  happiest  of  my  life  ; 
for  I  was  conscious  at  the  time  of  being  happy. 

The  only  sad  moment  that  I  experienced  at 
Abbotsford  was  that  of  my  departure ;  but  it 
was  cheered  with  the  prospect  of  soon  returning  ; 
for  I  had  promised,  after  making  a  tour  in  the 
Highlands,  to  come  and  pass  a  few  more  days  on 
the  banks  of  the  Tweed,  when  Scott  intended  to 
invite  Hogg  the  poet  to  meet  me.  I  took  a  kind 
farewell  of  the  family,  with  each  of  whom  I  had 
been  highly  pleased.  If  I  have  refrained  from 
dwelling  particularly  on  their  several  characters, 
and  giving  anecdotes  of  them  individually,  it  is 
because  I  consider  them  shielded  by  the  sanctity 
of  domestic  life  ;  Scott,  on  the  contrary,  belongs 
to  history.  As  he  accompanied  me  on  foot,  how- 
ever, to  a  small  gate  on  the  confines  of  his  prem- 
ises, I  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  the  en- 
joyment I  had  experienced  in  his  domestic  circle, 
and  passing  some  warm  eulogiums  on  the  young 
folks  from  whom  I  had  just  parted.  I  shall  never 
forget  his  reply.  "  They  have  kind  hearts,"  said 
he,  ''  and  that  is  the  main  point  as  to  human 
happiness.  They  love  one  another,  poor  things, 
which  is  every  thing  in  domestic  life.  The  best 
wish  I  can  make  you,  my  friend,"  added  he,  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  "  is,  that  when 
you  return  to  your  own  country,  you  may  get  mar- 
ried, and  have  a  family  of  young  bairns  about  you. 
If  you  are  happy,  there  they  are  to  share  your 
happiness — and  if  you  are  otherwise — there  they 
are  to  comfort  you." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  gate,  when  he 


halted,  and  took  my  hand.  "  I  will  not  say  fare- 
well," said  he,  "  for  it  is  always  a  painful  word, 
but  I  will  say,  come  again.  When  you  have  made 
your  tour  to  the  Highlands,  come  here  and  give 
me  a  few  more  days — but  come  when  you  please, 
you  will  always  find  Abbotsford  open  to  you,  and 
a  hearty  welcome." 


I  have  thus  given,  in  a  rude  style,  my  main 
recollections  of  what  occurred  during  my  sojourn 
at  Abbotsford,  and  I  feel  mortified  that  I  can 
give  but  such  meagre,  scattered,  and  colorless 
details  of  what  was  so  copious,  rich,  and  varied. 
During  several  days  that  I  passed  there  Scott 
was  in  admirable  vein.  From  early  morn  until 
dinner  time  he  was  rambling  about,  showing  me 
the  neighborhood,  and  during  dinner  and  until 
late  at  night,  engaged  in  social  conversation. 
No  time  was  reserved  for  himself;  he  seemed 
as  if  his  only  occupation  was  to  entertain  me  ; 
and  yet  I  was  almost  an  entire  stranger  to 
him,  one  of  whom  he  knew  nothing,  but  an 
idle  book  I  had  written,  and  which,  some 
years  before,  had  amused  him.  But  such  was 
Scott — he  appeared  to  have  nothing  to  do  but 
lavish  his  time,  attention,  and  conversation  on 
those  around.  It  was  difficult  to  imagine  what 
time  he  found  to  write  those  volumes  that  were 
incessantly  issuing  from  the  press  ;  all  of  which, 
too,  were  of  a  nature  to  require  reading  and  re- 
search. I  could  not  find  that  his  life  was  ever 
otherwise  than  a  life  of  leisure  and  hap-hazard 
recreation,  such  as  it  was  during  my  visit.  He 
scarce  ever  balked  a  party  of  pleasure,  or  a 
sporting  excursion,  and  rarely  pleaded  his  own 
concerns  as  an  excuse  for  rejecting  those  of 
others.  During  my  visit  I  heard  of  other  visitors 
who  had  preceded  me,  and  who  must  have  kept 
him  occupied  for  many  days,  and  I  have  had  an 
opportunity  of  knowing  the  course  of  his  daily 
life  for  some  time  subsequently.  Not  long  after 
my  departure  from  Abbotsford,  my  friend  ^Vilkie 
arrived  there,  to  paint  a  picture  of  the  Scott 
family.  He  found  the  house  full  of  guests. 
Scott's  whole  time  was  taken  up  in  riding  and 
driving  about  the  country,  or  in  social  conversa- 
tion at  home.  "All  this  time,"  said  Wilkie  to 
me,  "  I  did  not  presume  to  ask  Mr.  Scott  to  sit 
for  his  portrait,  for  I  saw  he  had  not  a  moment 
to  spare  ;  I  waited  for  the  guests  to  go  away,  but 
as  fast  as  one  went  another  arrived,  and  so  it  con- 
tinued for  several  days,  and  with  each  set  he  was 
completely  occupied.  At  length  all  went  off, 
and  we  were  quiet.  I  thought,  however,  Mr. 
Scott  will  now  shut  himself  up  among  his  books 
and  papers,  for  he  has  to  make  up  for  lost  time  ; 
it  won't  do  for  me  to  ask  him  now  to  sit  for  his  pic- 
ture. Laidlaw,  who  managed  his  estate,  came 
in,  and  Scott  turned  to  him,  as  I  supposed,  to 
consult  about  business.  '  Laidlaw,'  said  he,  '  to- 
morrow morning  we'll  go  across  the  water  and 
take  the  dogs  with  us — there's  a  place  where  I 
think  we  shall  be  able  to  find  a  hare.' 

"  In  short,"  added  Wilkie,  "  I  found  that  in- 
stead of  business,  he  was  thinking  only  of  amuse- 
ment, as  if  he  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  occupy 
him  ;  so  I  no  longer  feared  to  intrude  upon  him." 

The  conversation  of  Scott  was  frank,  hearty, 
picturesque,  and  dramatic.  During  the  time  of 
my  visit  he  inclined  to  the  comic  rather  than  the 
grave,  in  his  anecdotes  and  stories,  and  such,  I 
was  told,  was  his  general  inclination.  He  rel- 
ished a  joke,  or  a  trait  of  humor  in  social  inter- 


530 


ABBOTSFORD. 


course,  and  laughed  with  right  good  will.  He 
talked  not  for  effect  nor  display,  but  from  the  flow 
of  his  spirits,  the  stores  of  his  memory,  and  the 
vigor  of  his  imagination.  He  had  a  natural  turn 
for  narration,  and  his  narratives  and  descriptions 
were  without  effort,  yet  wonderfully  graphic.  .  He 
placed  the  scene  before  you  like  a  picture  ;  he 
gave  the  dialogue  with  the  appropriate  dialect  or 
peculiarities,  and  described  the  appearance  .and 
characters  of  his  personages  with  that  spirit  and 
felicity  evinced  in  his  writings.  Indeed,  his  con- 
versation reminded  me  continually  of  his  novels  ; 
and  it  seemed  to  me,  that  during  the  whole  time 
I  was  with  him,  he  talked  enough  to  fill  volumes, 
and  that  they  could  not  have  been  filled  more 
delightfully. 

He  was  as  good  a  listener  as  talker,  appreci- 
ating everything  that  others  said,  however  hum- 
ble might  be  their  rank  or  pretensions,  and  was 
quick  to  testify  his  perception  of  any  point  in 
their  discourse.  He  arrogated  nothing  to  him- 
self, but  was  perfectly  unassuming  and  unpre- 
tending, entering  with  heart  and  soul  into  the 
business,  or  pleasure,  or,  I  had  almost  said, 
folly,  of  the  hour  and  the  company.  No  one's 
concerns,  no  one's  thoughts,  no  one's  opinions, 
no  one's  tastes  and  pleasures  seemed  beneath 
him.  He  made  himself  so  thoroughly  the  com- 
panion of  those  with  whom  he  happened  to  be, 
that  they  forgot  for  a  time  his  vast  superiority, 
and  only  recollected  and  wondered,  when  all  was 
over,  that  it  was  Scott  with  whom  they  had  been 
on  such  familiar  terms,  and  in  whose  society 
they  had  felt  so  perfectly  at  their  ease. 

It  was  delightful  to  observe  the  generous  spirit 
in  which  he  spoke  of  all  his  literary  contempo- 
raries, quoting  the  beauties  of  their  works,  and 
this,  too,  with  respect  to  persons  with  whom  he 
might  have  been  supposed  to  be  at  variance  in 
literature  or  politics.  Jeffrey,  it  was  thought, 
had  ruffled  his  plumes  in  one  of  his  reviews,  yet 
Scott  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  high  and  warm 
eulogy,  both  as  an  author  and  as  a  man. 

His*humor  in  conversation,  as  in  his  works, 
was  genial  and  free  from  all  causticity.  He  had 
a  quick  perception  of  faults  and  foibles,  but  he 
looked  upon  poor  human  nature  with  an  indul- 
gent eye,  relishing  what  wa|  good  and  pleasant, 


tolerating  what  was  frail,  and  pitying  what  was 
evil.  It  is  this  beneficent  spirit  which  gives  such 
an  air  of  bonhomie  to  Scott's  humor  throughout 
all  his  works.  He  pla,yed  with  the  foibles  and 
errors  of  his  fellow  beings,  and  presented  them 
in  a  thousand  whimsical  and  characteristic  lights, 
but  the  kindness  and  generosity  of  his  nature 
would  not  allow  him  to  be  a  satirist.  I  do  not 
recollect  a  sneer  throughout  his  conversation  any 
more  than  there  is  throughout  his  works. 

Such  is  a  rough  sketch  of  Scott,  as  I  saw  him 
in  private  life,  not  merely  at  the  time  of  the  visit 
here  narrated,  but  in  the  casual  intercourse  of 
subsequent  years.  Of  his  public  character  and 
merits,  all  the  world  can  judge.  His  works  have 
incorporated  themselves  with  the  thoughts  and 
concerns  of  the  whole  civilized  world,  for  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century,  and  have  had  a  controlling  in- 
fluence over  the  age  in  which  he  lived.  But  when 
did  a  human  being  ever  exercise  an  influence  more 
salutary  and  benignant  ?  Who  is  there  that,  on 
looking  back  over  a  great  portion  of  his  life,  does 
not  find  the  genius  of  Scott  administering  to  his 
pleasures,  beguiling  his  cares,  and  soothing  his 
lonely  sorrows  ?  Who  does  not  still  regard  his 
works  as  a  treasury  of  pure  enjoyment,  an  armory 
to  which  to  resort  in  time  of  need,  to  find  weapons 
with  which  to  fight  off  the  evils  and  the  griefs  of 
life  ?  For  my  own  part,  in  periods  of  dejection, 
I  have  hailed  the  announcement  of  a  new  work 
from  his  pen  as  an  earnest  of  certain  pleasure  in 
store  for  me,  and  have  looked  forward  to  it  as  a 
traveller  in  a  waste  looks  to  a  green  spot  at  a  dis- 
tance, where  he  feels  assured  of  solace  and  re- 
freshment. When  I  consider  how  much  he  has 
thus  contributed  to  the  better  hours  of  my  past 
existence,  and  how  independent  his  works  still 
make  me,  at  times,  of  all  the  world  for  my  enjoy- 
ment, I  bless  my  stars  that  cast  my  lot  in  his 
days,  to  be  thus  cheered  and  gladdened  by  the 
outpourings  of  his  genius.  I  consider  it  one  of 
the  greatest  advantages  that  I  have  derived  from 
my  literary  career,  that  it  has  elevated  me  into 
genial  communion  with  such  a  spirit  ;  and  as  a 
tribute  of  gratitude  for  his  friendship,  and  venera- 
tion for  his  memory,  I  cast  this  humble  stone 
upon  his  cairn,  which  will  soon,  I  trust,  be 
aloft  with  the  contributions  of  abler  hands. 


THE     KAATERSKILL     EDITION. 


LIFE  AND  WORKS 


OF 


WASHINGTON  IRVING, 


EMBRACING   THE   FOLLOWING  VOLUMES: 


THE  LIFE  AND  VOYAGES  OF  CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS.— ASTORIA ;  OR,  AN  EC 

DOTES  OF  AN  ENTERPRISE  BEYOND  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS.— TOUR 

ON    THE     PRAIRIES.— ABBOTSFORD.— NEWSTEAD    ABBEY.— LIFE 

OF    MAHOMET  AND    HIS    SUCCESSORS.— LIFE    OF    OLIVER 

GOLDSMITH.  —  BONNE  VILLE'S      AD  VENTURES     IN 

THE   FAR    WEST.— THE   CRAYON  PAPERS, 

AND     MOORISH     CHRONICLES. 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 

COMPLETE     AND     UNABRIDGED. 

SECOND  SERIES. 


WITH  SIXTEEN  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS   PRINTED  IN  COLORS  FROM  DESIGNS  MADE  EXPRESSLY 

FOR  THIS   EDITION   BY  JOSEPH    LAUBER. 


NEW    YORK: 

POLLARD  &  MOSS,  PUBLISHERS, 

47    JOHN     STREET. 
1883. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  iSSi.by 

POLLARD  &  MOSS, 
In  tne  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


CONTENTS, 


VOLUME  FOUR. 


MAHOMET. 


PART  I. 


PAGE 

•       3 


PREFACE, 

CHAPTER  I. 
Preliminary  notice  of  Arabia  and  the  Arabs,       ,       5 

CHAPTER  II. 

Birth  and  parentage  of  Mahomet. — His  infancy 
and  childhood, .8 

CHAPTER   III. 
Traditions  concerning  Mecca  and  the  Caaba,      .     10 

CHAPTER  IV. 

First  journey  of  Mahomet  with  the  caravan  to 
Syria, n 

CHAPTER  V. 

Commercial  occupations  of  Mahomet. — His  mar- 
riage with  Cadijah,  .....  12 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Conduct  of  Mahomet  after  his  marriage. — Be- 
comes anxious  for  religious  reform. — His 
habits  of  solitary  abstraction. — The  vision  of 
the  cave. — His  annunciation  as  a  prophet,  .  13 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Mahomet  inculcates  his  doctrines  secretly  and 
slowly. — Receives  further  revelations  and 
commands. — Announces  it  to  his  kindred. — 
Manner  in  which  it  was  received. —  Enthusias- 
tic devotion  of  Ali. — Christian  portents, .  .  15 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Outlines  of  the  Mahometan  faith,        ,         .         .17 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Ridicule  cast  on  Mahomet  and  his  doctrines. — 
Demand  for  miracles. — Conduct  of  Abu  Taleb. 
— Violence  of  the  Koreishites. — Mahomet's 
daughter  Rokaia,  with  her  uncle  Othman  and 
a  number  of  disciples,  take  refuge  in  Abys- 
sinia.— Mahomet  in  the  house  of  Orkham. — 
Hostility  of  Abu  Jahl  ;  his  punishment,  .  19 

CHAPTER  X. 

Omar  Ibn  al  Kattab,  nephew  of  Abu  Jahl,  un- 
dertakes to  revenge  his  uncle  by  slaying  Ma- 
homet.— His  wonderful  conversion  to  the  faith. 
— Mahomet  takes  refuge  in  a  castle  of  Abu 
Taleb. — Abu  Sofian,  at  the  head  of  the  rival 
branch  of  the  Koreishites,  persecutes  Mahom- 
et and  his  followers. — Obtains  a  decree  of 
non-intercourse  with  them. — Mahomet  leaves 


his  retreat  and  makes  converts  during  the 
month  of  pilgrimage. — Legend  of  the  conver- 
sion of  Habib  the  Wise,  .....  21 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  ban  of  non-intercourse  mysteriously  de- 
stroyed.— Mahomet  enabled  to  return  to  Mec- 
ca.— Death  of  Abu  Taleb  ;  of  Cadijah. — Ma- 
homet betroths  himself  to  Ayesha. — Marries 
Sawda. — The  Koreishites  renew  their  persecu- 
tion.— Mahomet  seeks  an  asylum  in  Tayef. — 
His  expulsion  thence. — Visited  by  genii  in  the 
desert  of  Naklah, 23 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Night  journey  of  the  prophet  from  Mecca  to  Je- 
rusalem ;  and  thence  to  the  seventh  heaven,  26 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mahomet  makes  converts  of  pilgrims  from  Me- 
dina.— Determines  to  fly  to  that  city. — A  plot 
to  slay  him. — His  miraculous  escape. — His 
Hegira,  or  flight. — His  reception  at  Medina,  2Q) 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Moslems  :n  Medina,  Mohadjerins  and  Ansarians. 
— The  party  of  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba  and  the 

'  Hypocrites. — Mahomet  builds  a  mosque ; 
preaches  ;  makes  converts  among  the  Chris- 
tians.— The  Jews  slow  to  believe. — Brother- 
hood established  between  fugitives  and  allies,  31 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Marriage  of  Mahomet  with  Ayesha. — Of  his 
daughter  Fatima  with  Ali. — Their  household 
arrangements, 33 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  sword  announced  as  the  instrument  of  faith. 
— First  foray  against  the  Koreishites. — Surpris- 
al  of  a  caravan .34 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  battle  of  Beder, 35 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Death  of  the  prophet's  daughter  Rokaia. — Res- 
toration of  his  daughter  Zeinab. — Effect  of  the 
prophet's  malediction  on  Abu  Lahab  and  his 
family. — Frantic  rage  of  Henda,  the  wife  of 
Abu  Sofian. — Mahomet  narrowly  escapes  as- 
sassination.— Embassy  of  the  Koreishites. — 
The  King  of- Abyssinia, 38 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Growing  power  of  Mahomet. — His  resentment 
against-the  Jews.1 — Insult  to  an  Arab  damsel 


iv 


CONTENTS. 


by  the  Jewish  tribe  of  Kainoka. — A  tumult. — 
The  Beni  Kainoka  take  refuge  in  their  castle. 
— Subdued  and  punished  by  confiscation  and 
banishment. — Marriage  of  Othman  to  the 
prophet's  daughter  Omm  Kalthum,  and  of  the 
prophet  to  Hafza, 39 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Henda  incites  Abu  Sofian  and  the  Koreishites  to 
revenge  the  death  of  her  relations  slain  in  the 
battle  of  Beder. — The  Koreishites  sally  forth, fol- 
lowed by  Henda  and  her  female  companions. — 
Battleof  Ohod. — Ferocious  triumph  of  Henda. 
— Mahomet  consoles  himself  by  marrying 
Hend,  the  daughter  of  Omeya,  .  .  .  40 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Treachery  of  certain  Jewish  tribes  ;  their  pun- 
ishment.— Devotion  of  the  prophet's  freedman 
Zeid  ;  divorces  his  beautiful  wife  Zeinab,  that 
she  may  become  the  wife  of  the  prophet,  .  41 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Expedition  of  Mahomet  against  the  Beni  Mos- 
talek. — He  espouses  Barra,  a  captive. — 
Treachery  of  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba. — Ayesha 
slandered. — Her  vindication. — Her  innocence 
proved  by  a  revelation,  .  ...  43 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

The  battle  of  the  Moat. — Bravery  of  Saad  Ibn 
Moad. — Defeat  of  the  Koreishites. — Capture 
of  the  Jewish  castle  of  Koraida. — Saad  decides 
as  to  the  punishment  of  the  Jews. — Mahomet 
espouses  Rehana,  a  Jewish  captive. — His  life 
endangered  by  sorcery  ;  saved  by  a  revelation 
of  the  angel  Gabriel,  ....  •  44 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Mahomet  undertakes  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. — 
Evades  Khaled  and  a  troop  of  horse  sent 
against  him. — Encamps  near  Mecca. — Negoti- 
ates with  the  Koreishites  for  permission  to  en- 
ter and  complete  his  pilgrimage. — Treaty  for 
ten  years,  by  which  he  is  permitted  to  make  a 
yearly  visit  of  three  days. — He  returns  to  Me- 
dina,   46 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Expedition  against  the  city  of  Khalbar  ;  siege. 
— Exploits  of  Mahomet's  captains. — Battle  of 
AH  and  Marhab. — Storming  of  the  citadel. — 
Ali  makes  a  buckler  of  the  gate. — Capture  of 
the  place. — Mahomet  poisoned  ;  he  marries 
Safiya,  a  captive  ;  also  Omm  Habiba,  a  widow,  47 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Missions  to  various  princes  ;  to  Heraclius  ;  to 
Khosru  II.  ;  to  the  Prefect  of  Egypt. — Their 
result, 49 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Mahomet's  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  ;  his  marriage 
with  Maimuna. — Khaled  Ibn  al  Waled  and 
Amru  Ibn  alAass  become  proselytes,  .  .  50 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  Moslem  envoy  slain  in  Syria. — Expedition  to 
avenge  his  death. — Battle  of  Muta. — Its  re- 
sults, . 50 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Designs  upon  Mecca.— Mission  of  Abu  Sofian. 
— Its  result 51 


CHAPTER  XXX.  PAGE 

Surprise  and  capture  of  Mecca,  .        .        .        .52 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Hostilities  in  the  mountains. — Enemy's  camp  in 
the  valley  of  Autas. — Battle  at  the  pass  of  Ho- 
nein. — Capture  of  the  enemy's  camp. — Inter- 
view of  Mahomet  with  the  nurse  of  his  child- 
hood.— Division  of  spoil. — Mahomet  at  his 
mother's  grave, 56 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Death  of  the  prophet's  daughter  Zeinab. — Birth 
of  his  son  Ibrahim. — Deputations  from  distant 
tribes. — Poetical  contest  in  presence  of  the 
prophet. — His  susceptibility  to  the  charms  of 
poetry. — Reduction  of  the  city  of  Tayef  ;  de- 
struction of  its  idols. — Negotiation  with  Amir 
Ibn  Tafiel,  a  proud  Bedouin  chief;  independ- 
ent spirit  of  the  latter. — Interview  of  Adi, an- 
other chief,  with  Mahomet,  .  ...  58 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Preparations  for  an  expedition  against  Syria. — 
Intrigues  of  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba. — Contribu- 
tions of  the  faithful. — March  of  the  army. — 
The  accursed  region  of  Hajar. — Encampment 
at  Tabuc. — Subjugation  of  the  neighboring 
provinces. — Khaled  surprises  Okaidor  and 
his  castle. — Return  of  the  army  to  Medina,  .  60 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Triumphal  entry  into  Medina. — Punishment  of 
those  who  had  refused  to  join  the  campaign. — 
Effects  of  excommunication. —  Death  of  Abdal- 
lah Ibn  Obba. — Dissensions  in  the  prophet's 
harem, .  62 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Abu  Beker  conducts  the  yearly  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca. — Mission  of  Ali  to  announce  a  revela- 
tion,   63 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Mahomet  sends  his  captains  on  distant  enter- 
prises.— Appoints  lieutenants  to  govern  in 
Arabia  Felix. — Sends  Ali  to  suppress  an  insur- 
rection in  that  province. — Death  of  the  proph- 
et's only  son  Ibrahim. — His  conduct  at  the 
death-bed  and  the  grave. — His  growing  infir- 
mities.— His  valedictory  pilgrimage  to  Mecca, 
and  his  conduct  and  preaching  while  there,  64 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Of  the  two  false  prophets  Al  Aswad  and  Mo- 
sellma, 66 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

An  army  prepared  to  march  against  Syria. — 
Command  given  to  Osama. — The  prophet's 
farewell  address  to  the  troops. — His  last  ill- 
ness.—  His  sermons  in  the  mosque. — His  death 
and  the  attending  circumstances,  .  .  -67 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Person  and  character  of  Mahomet,  and  specula- 
tions on  his  prophetic  career,  .  ...  69 


APPENDIX. 


Of  the  Islam  Faith, 


73 


CONTENTS. 


PART  II. 


PREFACE, 


PAGE 

•     79 


CHAPTER  I. 


Election  of  Abu  Beker,  first  Caliph,  Hegira  nth, 
A.D.  632, 79 

CHAPTER  IL 

Moderation  of  Abu  Beker. — Traits  of  his  char- 
acter.— Rebellion  of  Arab  tribes. — Defeat  and 
death  of  Malec  Ibn  Nowirah. — Harsh  measures 
of  Khaled  condemned  by  Omar,  but  excused 
by  Abu  Beker. — Khaled  defeats  Moseilma  the 
false  prophet. — Compilation  of  the  Koran,  .  81 

CHAPTER  III. 

Campaign  against  Syria. — Army  sent  under  Ye- 
zed  Ibn  Abu  Sofian. — Successes. — Another 
army  under  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass. — Brilliant 
achievements  of  Khaled  in  Irak,  .  .  .83 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Incompetency  of  Abu  Obeidab  to  the  general 
command  in  Syria. — Khaled  sent  to  supersede 
him. — Peril  of  the  Moslem  army  before  Bosra. 
— Timely  arrival  of  Khaled. — His  exploits 
during  the  siege. — Capture  of  Bosra,  ,  ,  84 


86 


CHAPTER  V. 
Khaled  lays  siege  to  Damascus,          .        . 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Siege  of  Damascus  continued. — Exploits  of  De- 
rar. — Defeat  of  the  imperial  army,  . 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Siege   of    Damascus    continued. — Sally   of    the 
garrison. — Heroism  of  the  Moslem  women,     . 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
Battle  of  Aiznadin 90 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Occurrences  before  Damascus. — Exploits  of 
Thomas. — Aban  Ibn  Zeid  and  his  Amazonian 
wife,  ....... 


92 


CHAPTER   X. 


Surrender  of  Damascus. — Disputes  of  the  Sara- 
cen  generals. — Departure  of  Thomas  and  the 
exiles,  ........  93 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Story  of  Jonas  and  Eudocea. — Pursuit  of  the  ex- 
iles.— Death  of  the  Caliph  Abu  Beker,  .  .  95 

CHAPTER  XH. 

Election  of  Omar,  second  Caliph. — Khaled  su- 
perseded in  command  by  Abu  Obeidah. — 
Magnanimous  conduct  of  those  generals. — Ex- 
pedition to  the  convent  of  Abyla,  .  .  .98 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Moderate  measures  of  Abu  Obeidah. — Reproved 
by  the  Caliph  for  his  slowness,  .  .  .  100 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Siege  and  capture  of  Baalbec,      . 


.  102 


CHAPTER  XV. 

PAGE 

Siege  of  Emessa.— Stratagems  of  the  Moslems. 
— Fanatic  devotion  of  Ikremah. — Surrender  of 
the  city 103 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Advance  of  a  powerful  Imperial  army. — Skir- 
mishes of  Khaled. — Capture  of  Derar. — Inter- 
view of  Khaled  and  Manuel 104 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  battle  of  Yermouk 106 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Siege  and  capture  of  Jerusalem,          .        .         .  107 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Progress  of  the  Moslem  arms  in  Syria. — Siege 
of  Aleppo. — Obstinate  defence  by  Youkenna, 
— Exploit  of  Damas. — Capture  of  the  castle. — 
Conversion  of  Youkenna,  ....  IOQ 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Perfidy  of  Youkenna  to  his  former  friends. — At- 
tempts the  castle  of  Aazaz  by  treachery. — Cap- 
ture of  the  castle, 112 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Intrigues  of  Youkenna  at  Antioch. — Siege  of 
that  city  by  the  Moslems. — Flight  of  the  em- 
peror to  Constantinople. — Surrender  of  Anti- 
och,   113 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Expedition  into  the  mountains  of  Syria. — Story 
of  a  miraculous  cap, 115 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Expedition  of  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass  against  Prince 
Constantine  in  Syria. — Their  conference. — 
Capture  of  Tripoli  and  Tyre. — Flight  of  Con- 
stantine.— Death  of  Khaled,  .  .  .  .116 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Invasion  of  Egypt  by  Amru. — Capture  of  Mem- 
phis.— Siege  and  surrender  of  Alexandria. — 
Burning  of  the  Alexandrian  library,  .  .  uS 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Enterprises  of  the  Moslems  in  Persia. — Defence 
of  the  kingdom  by  Queen  Arzemia. — Battle  of 
the  Bridge, 121 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Mosenna  Ibn  Han's  ravages  the  country  along 
the  Euphrates. — Death  of  Arzemia. — Yezde- 
gird III.  raised  to  the  throne. — Saad  Ibn  Abu 
Wakkas  given  the  general  command. — Death 
of  Mosenna. — Embassy  to  Yezdegird. — Its  re- 
ception,   123 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
The  battle  of  Kadesia, 124 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Founding  of  Bassora. — Capture  of  the  Persian 
capital. — Flight  of  Yezdegird  to  Holwan,  .  126 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Capture  of  Jalula  — Flight  of  Yezdegird  to  Rei. 
— Founding  of  Cufa. — Saad  receives  a  severe 
rebuke  from  the  Caliph  for  his  magnificence,  .  127 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXX.  PAGE 

War  with  Hormuzan,  the  Satrap  of  Ahwaz. — His 
conquest  and  conversion,  ....  128 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Saad  suspended  from  the  command. — A  Persian 
army  assembled  at  Nehavend. — Council  at  the 
mosque  of  Medina. — Battle  of  Nehavend,  .  129 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Capture  of  Hamadan  ;  of  Rei. — Subjugation  of 
Tabaristan  ;  of  Azerbijan. — Campaign  among 
the  Caucasian  mountains,  ....  131 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

The  Caliph  Omar  assassinated  by  a  fire-wor- 
shipper.—  His  character.  —  Othman  elected 
Caliph, 133 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Conclusion  of  the  Persian  conquest. — Flight  and 
death  of  Yezdegird 134 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Amru  displaced  from  the  government  of  Egypt. 
— Revolt  of  the  inhabitants. — Alexandria  re- 
taken by  the  Imperialists. — Amru  reinstated 
in  command. — Retakes  Alexandria,  and  tran- 
quillizes Egypt. — Is  again  displaced. — Abdal- 
lah  Ibn  Saad  invades  the  north  of  Africa,  .  136 

CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

Moawyah,  Emir  of  Syria. — His  naval  victories. 
— Othman  loses  the  prophet's  ring. — Sup- 
presses erroneous  copies  of  the  Koran. — Con- 
spiracies against  him. — His  death,  .  .  .  138 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Candidates  for  the  Caliphat. — Inauguration  of 
Ali,  fourth  Caliph. — He  undertakes  measures 
of  reform. — Their  consequences. — Conspiracy 
of  Ayesha. — She  gets  possession  of  Bassora,  140 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Ali  defeats  the  rebels  under  Ayesha. — His  treat- 
ment of  her, 143 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Battles  between  Ali  and  Moawyah. — Their 
claims  to  the  Caliphat  left  to  arbitration  ;  the 
result. — Decline  of  the  power  of  Ali. — Loss 
of  Egypt I45 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Preparations  of  Ali  for  the  invasion  of  Syria. — 
His  assassination,  ......  147 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Succession  of  Hassan,  fifth  Caliph.— He  abdi- 
cates in  favor  of  Moawyah,  ....  148 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Reign  of  Moawyah  I.,  sixth  Caliph.— Account 
of  his  illegitimate  brother  Zeyad.— Death  of 
Amru,  ••...'...  149 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Siege  of  Constantinople. — Truce  with  the  em- 
peror.— Murder  of  Hassan. — Death  of  Ayesha,  151 

CHAPTER    XLIV. 

Moslem  conquests  in  Northern  Africa. — Achieve- 
ments of  Acbah ;  his  death,  .  .  .  .152 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

FACE 

Moawyah  names  his  successor. — His  last  acts 
and  death. — Traits  of  his  character,  .  .  153 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Succession  of  Yezid,  seventh  Caliph. — Final 
fortunes  of  Hosein,  the  son  of  Ali, .  .  .  155 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

Insurrection  of  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir. — Medina 
taken  and  sacked. — Mecca  besieged. — Death 
of  Yezid, I58 

CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

Inauguration  of  Moawyah  II.,  eighth  Caliph. — 
His  abdication  and  death. — Merwan  Ibn  Ha- 
kem  and  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir,  rival  Caliphs. 
— Civil  wars  in  Syria, 160 

CHAPTER  XLIX. 

State  of  affairs  in  Khorassan. — Conspiracy  at 
Cufa. — Faction  of  the  Penitents  ;  their  for- 
tunes.— Death  of  the  Caliph  Merwan,  .  .  161 

CHAPTER  L. 

Inauguration  of  Abd'almalec,  the  eleventh  Ca- 
liph.— Story  of  Al  Moktar,  the  Avenger,  .  162 

CHAPTER  LI. 

Musab  Ibn  Zobeir  takes  possession  of  Babylo- 
nia.— Usurpation  of  Amru  Ibn  Saad  ;  his 
death. — Expedition  of  Abd'almalec  against 
Musab. — The  result. — Omens  ;  their  effect 
upon  Abd'almalec. — Exploits  of  Al  Mohalleb,  164 

CHAPTER  LII. 

Abd'almalec  makes  war  upon  his  rival  Caliph  in 
Mecca. — Siege  of  the  sacred  city. — Death  of 
Abdallah. — Demolition  and  reconstruction  of 
the  Caaba, 166 

CHAPTER  LIII. 

Administration  of  Al  Hejagi  as  emir  of  Baby- 
lonia  168 

CHAPTER  LIV. 

Renunciation  of  tribute  to  the  emperor. — Bat- 
tles in  Northern  Africa. — The  prophet  queen 
Cahina  ;  her  achievements  and  fate,  .  .  170 

CHAPTER  LV. 

Musa  Ibn  Nosseyr  made  emir  of  Northern 
Africa. — His  campaigns  against  the  Berbers,  .  172 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

Naval  enterprises  of  Musa. — Cruisings  of  his 
son  Abdolola. — Death  of  Abd'almalec,  .  .  174 

CHAPTER  LVII. 

Inauguration  of  Waled,  twelfth  Caliph. — Revi- 
val of  the  arts  under  his  reign. — His  taste  for 
architecture. — Erection  of  mosques. — Con- 
quests-of  his  generals,  .  .  .  .  .175 

CHAPTER   LVIII. 

Further  triumphs  of  Musa  Ibn  Nosseyr. — Naval 
enterprises. —Descents  in  Sicily,  Sardinia  and 
Mallorca. — Invasion  of  Tingitania. — Projects 
for  the  invasion  of  Spain. — Conclusion,  .  .  i 


CONTENTS. 


vu 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


PREFACE, 


PAGE 
•     179 


CHAPTER  I. 


Birth  and  parentage.  —  Characteristics  of  the 
Goldsmith  race. — Poetical  birthplace. — Gob- 
lin house. — Scenes  of  boyhood. —  Lissoy. — 
Picture  of  a  country  parson.  —  Goldsmith's 
schoolmistress.  —  Byrne,  the  village  school- 
master.— Goldsmith's  hornpipe  and  epigram. — 
Uncle  Contarine. — School  studies  and  school 
sports. — Mistakes  of  a  night,  ....  179 

CHAPTER  II. 

Improvident  marriage^  in  the  Goldsmith  family. 
— Goldsmith  at  the  University. — Situation  of  a 
sizer.  —  Tyranny  of  Wilder,  the  tutor.  —  Pe- 
cuniary straus. — Street  ballads. — College  riot. 
Gallows  Walsh. — College  prize. — A  dance  in- 
terrupted,   182 

CHAPTER  III. 

Goldsmith  rejected  by  the  bishop. — Second  sally 
to  see  the  world. — Takes  passage  for  America. 
— Ship  sails  without  him. — Return  on  Fiddle- 
back. — A  hospitable  friend. — The  counsellor,  186 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Sallies  forth  as  a  law  student. — Stumbles  at  the 
outset. — Cousin  Jane  and  the  valentine. — A 
family  oracle. — Sallies  forth  as  a  student  of 
medicine. — Hocus-pocus  of  a  boarding-house. 
—  Transformations  of  a  leg  of  mutton. — The 
mock  ghost. — Sketches  of  Scotland. — Trials 
of  Toryism. — A  poet's  purse  for  a  Continental 
tour, 188 

CHAPTER    V. 

The  agreeable  fellow  passengers. — Risks  from 
friends  picked  up  by  the  wayside. — Sketches 
of  Holland  and  the  Dutch.  —  Shifts  while  a 
poor  student  at  Leyden. — The  tulip  specula- 
tion.— The  provident  flute. — Sojourn  at  Paris. 
• — Sketch  of  Voltaire. — Travelling  shifts  of  a 
philosophic  vagabond, 191 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Landing  in  England. — Shifts  of  a  man  without 
money. — The  pestle  and  mortar  — Theatricals 
in  a  barn.  —  Launch  upon  London.  —  A  city 
night  scene. — Struggles  with  penury. — Miser- 
ies of  a  tutor. — A  doctor  in  the  suburb. — 
Poor  practice  and  second-hand  finery.  —  A 
tragedy  in  embryo.  —  Project  of  the  written 
mountains,  .......  194 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Life  of  a  pedagogue.— Kindness  to  schoolboys — 
pertness  in  return. — Expensive  charities. — 
The  Griffiths  and  the  "  Monthly  Review." — 
Toils  of  a  literary  hack. — Rupture  with  the 
Griffiths, 195 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Newbery,  of  picture-book  memory.  —  How  to 
keep  up  appearances. —  Miseries  of  author- 
ship.— A  poor  relation. — Letter  to  Hodson,  .  197 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Hackney  authorship. — Thoughts  of  literary  sui- 
cide.—  Return  to  Peckham. —  Oriental  proj- 


ects.—  Literary  enterprise  to  raise  funds. — 
Letter  to  Edward  Wells — to  Robert  Bryanton. 
Death  of  Uncle  Contarine. — Letter  to  Cousin 
Jane, 198 

CHAPTER   X. 

Oriental  appointment  —  and  disappointment. — 
Examination  at  the  College  of  Surgeons.— 
How  to  procure  a  suit  of  clothes. — Fresh  dis- 
appointment.— A  tale  of  distress. — The  suit  of 
clothes  in  pawn. — Punishment  for  doing  an 
act  of  charity.  —  Gayeties  of  Green-Arbor 
Court.— -Letter  to  his  brother. — Life  of  Vol- 
taire.— Scroggins,  an  attempt  at  mock  heroic 
poetry 2OI 

CHAPTER  XL 

Publication  of  "The  Inquirv."  —  Attacked  by 
Griffiths'  Review. — Kenrick,  the  literary  Ish- 
maelite. —  Periodical  literature. — Goldsmith's 
essays. — Garrick  as  a  manager. — Smollett  and 
his  schemes.  —  Change  of  lodgings.  —  The 
Robin  Hood  Club 205 

CHAPTER    XII. 

New  lodgings. — Visits  of  ceremony. — Hangers- 
on. — Pilkington  and  the  white  mouse. — Intro- 
duction to  Dr.  Johnson.  —  Davies  and  his 
bookshop. — Pretty  Mrs.  Davies — Foote  and 
his  projects. — Criticism  of  the  cudgel,  .  .  207 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Oriental  projects.  —  Literary  jobs. —  The  Cher- 
okee chiefs. — Merry  Islington  and  the  White 
Conduit  House. — Letters  on  the  History  of 
England. — James  Boswell. —  Dinner  of  Davies. 
— Anecdotes  of  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  .  .  208 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Hogarth  a  visitor  at  Islington — his  character. — 
Street  studies. — Sympathies  between  authors 
and  painters. — Sir  Joshua  Reynolds — his  char- 
acter—  his  dinners.  —  The  Literary  Club— its 
members. — Johnson's  revels  with  Lanky  and 
Beau.— Goldsmith  at  the  club,  .  .  .210 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Johnson  a.  monitor  to  Goldsmith — finds  him  in 
distress  with  his  landlady — relieved  by  the 
Vicar  of  Wakefield. — The  oratorio. — Poem  of 
the  Traveller. — The  poet  and  his  dog.— Suc- 
cess of  the  poem. — Astonishment  of  the  club. 
— Observations  on  the  poem,  ....  213 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

New  lodgings.  —  Johnson's  compliment.  —  A 
titled  patron.' — The  poet  at  Northumberland 
House. — His  independence  of  the  great — The 
Countess  of  Northumberland.  —  Edwin  and 
Angelina.— Gosford  and  Lord  Clare. —  Pub- 
lication of  Essays.— Evils  of  a  rising  reputa- 
tion. —  Hangers-on.  —  Job  writing.— Goody 
Two-shoes.— A  medical  campaign. — Mrs.  Side- 
botham,  .  .  .  .  .  •  •  -215 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Publication  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield— opinions 
concerning  it— of  Dr.  Johnson— of  Rogers  the 
poet — of  Goethe— its  merits. — Exquisite  ex- 
tract.—Attack  by  Kenrick.  —  Reply. — Book- 
building.— Project  of  a  comedy,  .  .  .217 


Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   XVIII.  p 

Social  condition  of  Goldsmith  —  his  colloquial 
contests  with  Johnson. — Anecdotes  and  illus- 
trations, . 2IQ 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Social  resorts. — The  shilling  whist  club. — A 
practical  joke. — The  Wednesday  club. — The 
"tun  of  man." — The  pig  butcher. — Tom  King. 
— Hugh  Kelly.  —  Glover  and  his  characteris- 
tics  221 

CHAPTER  XX. 

The  Great  Cham  of  literature  and  the  King. — 
Scene  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's — Goldsmith  ac- 
cused of  jealousy. — Negotiations  withGarrick. 
— The  author  and  the  actor — their  correspond- 


222 


CHAPTER  XXL 


More  hack  authorship. — Tom  Davies  and  the 
Roman  History. — Canonbury  Castle. — Polit- 
ical authorship.  —  Pecuniary  temptation.  — 
Death  of  Newbery  the  elder,  ....  224 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Theatrical  manoeuvring.  —  The  comedy  of 
"  False  Delicacy."  —  First  performance  of 
"  The  Good-natured  Man."- — Conduct  of  John- 
son.— Conduct  of  the  author. — Intermeddling 
of  the  press, 225 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Burning  the  candle  at  both  ends. —  Fine  apart- 
ments.— Fine  furniture. — Fine  clothes. — Fine 
acquaintances. — Shoemaker's  holiday  and  jolly 
pigeon  associates.  —  Peter  barlow,  Glover, 
and  the  Hampstead  hoax.  —  Poor  friends 
among  great  acquaintances,  ....  226 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Reduced  again  to  book-building. — Rural  retreat 
at  Shoemaker's  Paradise.  —  Death  of  Henry 
Goldsmith — tributes  to  his  memory  in  the  De- 
serted Village, 227 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Dinner  at  Bickerstaffs.— Hiffernan  and  his  im- 
pecuniosity. — Kenrick's  epigram. — Johnson's 
consolation. — Goldsmith's  toilet. — The  bloom- 
colored  coat.  —  New  acquaintances.  —  The 
Hornecks.— A  touch  of  poetry  and  passion. — 
The  Jessamy  Bride, 228 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Goldsmith  in  the  Temple.  —  Judge  Day  and 
Grattan. — Labor  and  dissipation. — Publication 
of  the  Roman  History. — Opinions  of  it. — His- 
tory of  Animated  Nature. — Temple  rookery. — 
Anecdotes  of  a  spider,  .....  230 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

Honors  at  the  Royal  Academy. — Letter  to  his 
brother  Maurice.  —  Family  fortunes. —  Jane 
Contarine  and  the  miniature. — Portraits  and 
engravings. —  School  associations. —  Johnson 
and  Goldsmith  in  Westminster  Abbey,  .  .  232 

CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

Publication  of  the  Deserted  Village— notices  and 
illustrations  of  it, 23, 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

The  poet  among  the  ladies— description  of  his 
person  and  manners.— Expedition  to  Paris 


with  the  Horneck  family. — The  traveller  of 
twenty  and  the  traveller  of  forty. — Hickey,  the 
special  attorney. — An  unlucky  exploit,  .  .  236 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Death  of  Goldsmith's  mother. —  Biography  of 
Parnell. — Agreement  with  Davies  for  the  His- 
tory of  Rome. — Life  of  Bolingbroke. —  The 
haunch  of  venison,  ......  238 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Dinner  at  the  Royal  Academy. — The  Rowley 
controversy.  —  Horace  Walpole's  conduct  to 
Chatterton. — Johnson  at  Redcliffe  Church. — 
Goldsmith's  History  of  England. — Davies's — 
criticism. — Letter  to  Bennet  Langton,  .  .  240 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Marriage  of  Little  Comedy.— Goldsmith  at  Bar- 
ton.— Practical  jokes  at  the  expense  of  his 
toilet. — Amusements  at  Barton. — Aquatic  mis- 
adventure, .......  241 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

Dinner  at  General  Oglethorpe's. — Anecdotes  of 
the  general. — Dispute  about  duelling. — Ghost 
stories,  ........  243 

CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

Mr.  Joseph  Cradock. — An  author's  confidings. 
— An  amanuensis. — Life  at  Edgeware. — Gold- 
smith conjuring. — George  Colman. — The  Fan- 
toccini  243 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

Broken  health. —  Dissipation  and  debts. — The 
Irish  Widow. —  Practical  jokes. —  Scrub. —  A 
misquoted  pun.  —  Malagrida.  —  Goldsmith 
proved  to  be  a  fool.  —  Distressed  ballad- 
singers. — The  poet  at  Ranleigh,  .  .  ,  246 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

Invitation  to  Christmas. — The  spring-velvet  coat. 
— The  haymaking  wig. — The  mischances  of 
loo. — The  fair  culprit. — A  dance  with  the  Jes- 
samy Bride 248 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

Theatrical  delays. — Negotiations  with  Colman. 
— Letter  to  Garrick. — Croaking  of  the  mana- 
ger.—  Naming  of  the  play. —  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer.  —  Foote's  Primitive  Puppet  Show, 
Piety  on  Pattens. — First  performance  of  the 
comedy. — Agitation  of  the  author. — Success. 
— Colman  squibbed  out  of  town,  .  .  .  250 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A  newspaper  attack. — The  Evans  affray. — John- 
son's comment,  ......  253 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Boswell  in  Holy-Week. — Dinner  at  Oglethorpe's. 
— Dinner  at  Paoli's. — The  policy  of  truth. — 
Goldsmith  affects  independence  of  royalty. — 
Paoli's  compliment. — Johnson's  eulogium  on 
the  fiddle.  —  Question  about  suicide.  —  Bos- 
well's  subserviency,  .....  254  • 

CHAPTER  XL. 

Changes  in  the  Literarv  Club. — Johnson's  ob- 
jection to  Garrick. — Election  of  Boswell,  .  256 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

Dinner  at  Dilly's. — Conversations  on  natural 
history. — Intermeddling  cf  Boswell. — Dispute 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


about  toleration. — Johnson's  rebuff  to  Gold- 
smith— his  apology. — Man-worship. — Doctors 
Major  and  Minor. — A  farewell  visit,  .  .  257 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Project  of  a  Dictionary  of  Arts  and  Sciences. — 
Disappointment. — Negligent  authorship. — Ap- 
plication for  a  pension.  —  Beattie's  Essay  on 
Truth.  —  Public  adulation.  —  A  high-minded 
rebuke, 259 

CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Toil  without  hope. — The  poet  in  the  green-room 
— in  the  flower  garden — at  Vauxhall — dissipa- 


tion without  gayety. — Cradock  in  town  — 
friendly  sympathy — a  parting  scene — an  invi- 
tation to  pleasure,  ...  .  .  .  .  260 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A  return  to  drudgery — forced  gayety — retreat  to 
the  country. — The  poem  of  Retaliation. — Por- 
trait of  Garrick — of  Goldsmith — of  Reynolds. 
— Illness  of  the  poet — his  death. — Grief  of  his 
friends. — A  last  word  respecting  the  Jessamy 
Bride 262 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

The  funeral. — The  monument. — The  epitaph. — 
Concluding  reflections,  .....  265 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTICE, 269 

CHAPTER   I. 

State  of  the  fur  trade  of  the  Rocky  Mountains 
— American  enterprises — General  Ashley  and 
his  associates — Sublette,  a  famous  leader — 
Yearly  rendezvous  among  the  mountains — 
Stratagems  and  dangers  of  the  trade — Bands  of 
trappers — Indian  banditti — Crows  and  Black- 
feet — Mountaineers — Traders  of  the  Far  West 
— Character  and  habits  of  the  trapper,  .  .  271 

CHAPTER   II. 

Departure  from  Fort  Osage — Modes  of  trans- 
portation —  Pack-horses  —  Wagons  —  Walker 
and  Cerre — their  characters — Buoyant  feelings 
on  launching  upon  the  prairies — Wild  equip- 
ments of  the  trappers — their  gambols  and 
antics — Difference  of  character  between  the 
American  and  French  trappers  —  Agency  of 
the  Kansas — General  Clarke — White  Plume, 
the  Kansas  chief — Night  scene  in  a  trader's 
camp — Colloquy  between  White  Plume  and 
the  captain — Bee-hunters — their  expeditions 
— their  feuds  with  the  Indians — Bargaining 
talent  of  White  Plume, 273 

CHAPTER   III. 

Wide  prairies — Vegetable  productions — Tabular 
hills — Slabs  of  sandstone — Nebraska,  or  Platte 
River — Scant}'  fare — Buffalo  skulls — Wagons 
turned  into  boats — Herds  of  buffalo — Cliffs 
resembling  castles — The  Chimney — Scott's 
Bluffs — Story  connected  with  them — The  big- 
horn or  ahsahta  —  its  nature  and  habits  — 
Difference  between  that  and  the  "woolly 
sheep,"  or  goat  of  the  mountains,  .  .  .  276 

CHAPTER   IV. 

An  alarm — Crow  Indians — their  appearance — 
mode  of  approach — their  vengeful  errand — 
their  curiosity — Hostility  between  the  Crows 
and  Blackfeet — Loving  conduct  of  the  Crows 
— Laramie's  Fork  —  First  navigation  of  the 
Nebraska  —  Great  elevation  of  the  country — 
Rarity  of  the  atmosphere — its  effect  on  the 
woodwork  of  the  wagons — Black  hills — their 
wild  and  broken  scenery — Indian  dogs — Crow 
trophies — Sterile  and  dreary  country — Banks 
of  the  Sweet  Water — Buffalo  hunting — Ad- 
venture of  Tom  Cam,  the  Irish  cook,  .  .  278 


CHAPTER  V. 

Magnificent  scenery — Wind  River  Mountains — 
Treasury  of  waters — A  stray  horse — An  Indian 
trail — Trout  Streams — The  Great  Green  River 
valley — An  ala./.i — A  band  of  trappers — Fon- 
tenelle,  his  information — Sufferings  of  thirst — 
Encampment  on  the  Seeds-ke-dee — Strategy 
of  rival  traders — Fortification  of  the  camp 
— The  Blackfeet — banditti  of  the  mountain — 
their  character  and  habits,  ....  280 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Sublette  and  his  band — Robert  Campbell — Mr. 
Wyeth  and  a  band  of  "  down-easters" — Yan- 
kee enterprise  —  Fitzpatrick — his  adventure 
with  the  HIackfeet — A  rendezvous  of  moun- 
taineers— The  batile  of  Pierre's  Hole — An 
Indian  ambuscade — Sublette's  return,  .  .  283 

CHAPTER   VII. 

Retreat  of  the  Blackfeet — Fontenelle's  camp  in 
danger — Captain  Bonneville  and  the  Blackfeet 
— Free  trappers — iheir  character,  habits,  dress, 
equipments,  horses  —  Game  fellows  of  the 
mountains — their  visit  to  the  camp  —  Good 
fellowship  and  good  cheer — A  carouse — A 
swagger,  a  brawl,  and  a  reconciliation,  .  .  286 

CHAPTER   VIII. 

Plans  for  the  winter — Salmon  River — Abun- 
dance of  salmon  west  of  the  mountains — New 
arrangements — Caches — Cerre's  detachment^— 
— Movements  in  Fontenelle's  camp — Depart- 
ure of  the  Blackfeet — their  fortunes — Wind 
Mountain  streams  — Buckeye,  the  Delaware 
hunter,  and  the  grizzly  bear — Bones  of  mur- 
dered travellers — Visit  to  Pierie's  Hole — 
Traces  of  the  battle — Nez  Perec  Indians — Ar- 
rival at  Salmon  River, 288 

CHAPTER   IX. 

Horses  turned  loose — Preparations  for  winter 
quarters — Hungry  times — Nez  Perces,  their 
honesty,  piety,  pacific  habits,  religious  cere- 
monies— Captain  Bonneville's  conversations 
with  them — Their  love  of  gambling,  .  .  290 

CHAPTER   X. 

Blackfeet  in  the  Horse  Prairie — Search  after  the 
hunters — Difficulties  and  dangers — A  card 
party  in  the  wilderness — The  card  parly  inter- 
rupted— "  Old  Sledge"  a  losinggame — Visitors 
to  the  camp — Iroquois  hunters  —  Hanging- 
cared  Indians,  .......  291 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XI.  PAGE 

Rival  trapping  parties— Manoeuvring — A  desper- 
ate game— Vanderburgh  and  the  Blackfeet — 
Deserted  camp-fire — A  dark  defile — An  Indian 
ambush— A  fierce  melee — fatal  consequences — 
Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger— Trappers'  precau- 
tions—  Meeting  with  the  Blackfeet  —  More 
fighting — Anecdote  of  a  young  Mexican  and 
an  Indian  girl, 293 

CHAPTER   XII. 

A.  winter  camp  in  the  wilderness — Medley  of 
trappers,  hunters,  and  Indians — Scarcity  of 
game — New  arrangements  in  the  camp — De- 
tachments sent  to  a  distance — Carelessness  of 
the  Indians  when  encamped — Sickness  among 
the  Indians — Excellent  character  of  the  Nez 
Perces — The  captain's  efforts  as  a  pacificator — 
A  Nez  Perec's  argument  in  favor  of  war — Rob- 
beries by  the  Blackfeet — Long-suffering  of  the 
Nez  Perces — A  hunter's  elysium  among  the 
mountains  —  More  robberies  —  The  captain 
preaches  up  a  crusade — The  effect  upon  his 
hearers,  ........  294 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Story  of  Kosato,  the  renegade  Blackfoot,  .         .  297 
CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  party  enters  the  mountain  gorge — A  wild 
fastness  among  hills — Mountain  mutton — 
Peace  and  plenty — The  amorous  trapper — A 
piebald  wedding — A  free  trapper's  wife — her 
gala  equipments — Christmas  in  the  wilderness,  298 

CHAPTER   XV. 

A  hunt  after  hunters — Hungry  times — A  vora- 
cious repast — Wintry  weather — Godin's  River 
— Splendid  winter  scene  on  the  great  lava  plain 
of  Snake  River — Severe  travelling  and  tramp- 
ing in  the  snow — Manoeuvres  of  a  solitary 
Indian  horseman  —  Encampment  on  Snake 
River — Banneck  Indians — The  Horse  chief — 
his  charmed  life,  .  ...  .  .  .  300 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Misadventures  of  Matthieu  and  his  party — Re- 
turn to  the  caches  at  Salmon  River— Battle 
between  Nez  Perces  and  Blackfeet — Heroism 
of  a  Nez  Perce  woman — enrolled  among  the 
braves,  ........  302 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

Opening  of  the  caches— Detachments  of  Cerre 
and  Hodgkiss  —  Salmon  River  Mountains — 
Superstition  of  an  Indian  trapper— Godin's 
River — Preparations  for  trapping — An  alarm — 
An  interruption — A  rival  band — Phenomena 
of  Snake  River  plain — Vast  clefts  and  chasms 
—  Ingulfed  streams  —  Sublime  scenery  —  A 
grand  buffalo  hunt, 304 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Meeting  with  Hodgkiss— Misfortunes  of  the  Nez 
Perces — Schemes  of  Kosato,  the  renegade — 
his  foray  into  the  Horse  Prairie— Invasion  of 
Blackfeet— Blue  John,  and  his  forlorn  hope — 
their  generous  enterprise  —  their  fate— Con- 
sternation and  despair  of  the  village — Solemn 
obsequies  —  Attempt  at  Indian  trade — Hud- 
son's Bay  Company's  monopoly  Arrangements 
for  autumn — Breaking  up  of  an  encampment,  306 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Precautions  in  dangerous  defiles  —  Trappers' 
mode  of  defence  on  a  prairie — A  mysterious 
visitor — Arrival  in  Green  River  valley — Ad- 
ventures of  the  detachments  —  The  forlorn 
partisan — His  tale  of  disasters,  .  .  .  309 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Gathering  in  Green  River  valley — Visitings  and 
feastings  of  leaders — Rough  was  sailing  among 
the 'trappers — Wild  blades  of  the  mountains — 
— Indian  belles — Potency  of  bright  beads  and 
red  blankets  —  Arrival  of  supplies — Revelry 
and  extravagance — Mad  Wolves  —  The  lost 
Indian,  .....,,.  310 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Schemes  of  Captain  Bonneville — The  Great  Salt 
Lake — Expedition  to  explore  it — Preparations 
for  a  journey  to  the  Bighorn,  ....  311 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

The  Crow  country — A  Crow  paradise — Habits  of 
the  Crows — Anecdotes  of  Rose,  the  renegade 
white  man— his  fights  with  the  Blackfeet — his 
elevation — his  death  —  Arapooish,  the  Crow 
chief — his  eagle — Adventure  of  Robert  Camp- 
bell— Honor  among  Crows,  ....  312 

CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Departure  from  Green  Rivef  valley — Popo  Agie 
— its  course— the  rivers  into  which  it  runs — 
Scenery  of  the  Bluffs — The  great  Tar  Spring- 
Volcanic  tracts  in  the  Crow  country — Burn- 
ing mountain  of  Powder  River  —  Sulphur 
springs— Hidden  fires— Colter's  Hell — Wind 
River — Campbell's  party — Fitzpatrick  and  his 
trappers — Captain  Stewart,  an  amateur  travel- 
ler— Nathaniel  Wyeth — anecdotes  of  his  ex- 
pedition to  the  Far  West — Disaster  of  Camp- 
bell's party — A  union  of  bands — The  Bad  Pass 
—The  rapids — Departure  of  Fitzpatrick — Em- 
barkation of  peltries — Wyeth  and  his  bull  boat 
— Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville  in  the 
Bighorn  Mountains — Adventures  in  the  plain 
Traces  of  Indians — Travelling  precautions — 
Dangers  of  making  a  smoke — The  rendezvous,  314 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Adventures  of  the  party  of  ten — The  Balaamite 
mule — A  dead  point — The  mysterious  elks — A 
night  attack — A  retreat — Travelling  under  an 
alarm — A  joyful  meeting — Adventures  of  the 
other  part}' — A  decoy  elk — Retreat  to  an  island 
— A  savage  dance  of  triumph — Arrival  at  Wind 
River,  ........  317 

CHAPTER    XXV. 

Captain  Bonneville  sets  out  for  Green  River 
valley — Journey  up  the  Popo  Agie — Buffaloes 
— The  staring  white  bears — The  smoke — The 
warm  springs — Attempt  to  traverse  the  Wind 
River  Mountains — The  Great  Slope — Moun- 
tain dells  and  chasms — Crystal  lakes — Ascent 
of  a  snowy  peak — Sublime  prospect — A  pano- 
rama— "  Les  dignes  de  pitie,"  or  wild  men  of 
the  mountains,  . 318 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  retrogade  move — Channel  of  a  mountain  tor- 
rent— Alpine  scenery — Cascades — Beaver  val- 
leys— Beavers  at  work  —  their  architecture — 
their  modes  of  felling  trees — Mode  of  trapping 
beaver — Contests  of  skill — A  beaver  "up  to 
trap" — Arrival  at  the  Green  River  caches,  .  321 

CHAPTER   XXVII. 

Route  toward  Wind  River — Dangerous  neigh- 
borhood— Alarms  and  precautions — A  sham 
encampment — Apparition  of  an  Indian  spy — 
Midnight  move  —  A  mountain  defile  —  The 
Wind  River  valley — Tracking  a  part}- — De- 
serted camps — Symptoms  of  Crows — Meeting 
of  comrades — A  trapper  entrapped — Crow 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


pleasantry  —  Crow  spies — A  decampment  — 
Return  to  Green  River  valley — Meeting  with 
Fitzpatrick's  part}- — their  adventures  among 
the  Crows — Orthodox  Crows,  ....  322 

CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

A  region  of  natural  curiosities — The  plain  of 
white  clay — Hot  springs — The  Beer  Spring — 
Departure  to  seek  the  free  trappers — Plain  of 
Portneuf — Lava — Chasms  and  gullies  —  Ban- 
neck  Indians  —  their  hunt  of  the  buffalo — 
Hunters'  feast — Trencher  heroes — Bullying  of 
an  absent  foe — The  damp  comrade — The  In- 
dian spy — -Meeting  with  Hodgkiss — his  adven- 
tures— Poordevil  Indians  —  Triumph  of  the 
Bannecks — Blackfeet  policy  in  war,  .  .  325 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

Winter  camp  at  the  Portneuf — Fine  springs — 
The  Banneck  Indians — their  honesty — Captain 
Bonneville  prepares  for  an  expedition — Christ- 
mas— The  American  Falls — Wild  scenery — 
Fishing  Falls — Snake  Indians — Scenery  on 
the  Bruneau — View  of  volcanic  country  from 
a  mountain — Powder  River  —  Shoshonies,  or 
Root  Diggers — their  character,  habits,  habita- 
tions, dogs — Vanity  at  its  last  shift,  .  .  328 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Temperature  of  the  climate — Root  Diggers  on 
horseback — An  Indian  guide — Mountain  pros- 
pects— The  Grand  Rond — Difficulties  on  Snake 
River — A  scramble  over  the  Blue  Mountains 
— Sufferings  from  hunger — Prospect  of  the  Im- 
mahah  valley — The  exhausted  traveller,  .  .  330 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Progress  in  the  valley — An  Indian  cavalier — The 
captain  falls  into  a  lethargy — A  Nez  Perce  pa- 
triarch— Hospitable  treatment — The  bald  head 
— Bargaining — Value  of  an  old  plaid  cloak — 
The  family  horse — The  cost  of  an  Indian  pres- 
ent,   333 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

Ncz  Perce  camp — A  chief  with  a  hard  name — 
The  Big  Hearts  of  the  East — Hospitable  treat- 
ment— The  Indian  guides — Mysterious  coun- 
cils— The  loquacious  chief — Indian  tomb  — 
Grand  Indian  reception — An  Indian  feast — 
Town-criers — Honesty  of  the  Nez  Perces — 
The  captain's  attempt  at  healing,  .  .  .  335 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

Scenery  of  the  Way-lee-way — A  substitute  for 
tobacco — Sublime  scenery  of  Snake  River — 
The  garrulous  old  chief  and  his  cousin — A  Nez 
Perce  meeting — A  stolen  skin — The  scapegoat 
dog — Mysterious  conferences — The  little  chief 
— his  hospitality — The  captain's  account  of  the 
United  States — His  healing  skill,  .  .  .  337 

CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

Fort  Wallah-Wallah — its  commander — Indians 
in  its  neighborhood — Exertions  of  Mr.  Pam- 
brune  for  their  improvement — Religion — Code 
of  laws — Range  of  the  Lower  Nez  Perces — 
Camash,  and  other  roots — Nez  Perce  horses — 
Preparations  for  departure — Refusal  of  sup- 
plies— Departure — A  laggard  and  glutton,  .  339 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 

The  uninvited  guest — Free  and  easy  manners — 
Salutary  jokes — A  prodigal  son — Exit  of  the 
glutton — A  sudden  change  in  fortune — Danger 


of  a  visit  to  poor  relations — Plucking  of  a 
prosperous  man — A  vagabond  toilet — A  sub- 
stitute for  the  very  fine  horse — Hard  travelling 
— The  uninvited  guest  and  the  patriarchal  colt 
— A  beggar  on  horseback — A  catastrophe — 
Exit  of  the  merry  vagabond,  ....  341 

CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

i 

The  difficult  mountain — A  smoke  and  consulta- 
tion— The  captain's  speech — An  icy  turnpike 
— Danger  of  a  false  step — Arrival  on  Snake 
River — Return  to  Portneuf — Meeting  of  com- 
rades,   343 

CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

Departure  for  the  rendezvous — A  war  party  of 
Blackfeet — A  mock  bustle — Sham  fires  at  night 
— Warlike  precautions — Dangers  of  a  night 
attack  —  A  panic  among  horses — Cautious 
march — The  Beer  Springs — A  mock  carousal — 
Skirmishing  with  buffaloes — A  buffalo  bait — 
Arrival  at  the  rendezvous — Meeting  of  various 
bands, 345 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

Plan  of  the  Salt  Lake  expedition — Great  sandy 
deserts — Sufferings  from  thirst — Ogden's  River 
— Trails  and  smoke  of  lurking  savages — Thefts 
at  night — A  trapper's  revenge — Alarms  of  a 
guilty  conscience — A  murderous  victory — Cali- 
fornian  mountains — Plains  along  the  Pacific — • 
Arrival  at  Monterey — account  of  the  place  and 
neighborhood — Lower  California — its  extent — 
The  peninsula  —  soil — climate — production — 
Its  settlement  by  the  Jesuits — their  sway  over 
the  Indians  —  their  expulsion — Ruins  of  a 
missionary  establishment — Sublime  scenery — 
Upper  California — Missions — their  power  and 
policy — Resources  of  the  country — Designs  ot 
foreign  nations,  ......  346 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

Gay  life  at  Monterey — Mexican  horsemen — A 
bold  dragoon — Use  of  the  lasso — Vaqueros — 
Noosing  a  bear — Fight  between  a  bull  and  a 
bear — Departure  from  Monterey — Indian  horse- 
stealers — Outrages  committed  by  the  travellers 
— Indignation  of  Captain  Bonneville,  .  .  349 

CHAPTER   XL. 

Travellers'  tales — Indian  lurkers — Prognostics 
of  Buckeye — Signs  and  portents — The  medi- 
cine wolf — An  alarm— An  ambush — The  cap- 
tured provant — Triumph  of  Buckeye — Arrival 
of  supplies — Grand  carouse — Arrangements 
for  the  year — Wyeth  and  his  new  levied  band,  350 

CHAPTER   XLI. 
A  voyage  in  a  bull  boat,        .         .        .         .         •  351 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

Departure  of  Captain  Bonneville  for  the  Colum- 
bia— Advance  of  Wyeth — Efforts  to  keep  the 
lead — Hudson's  Bay  party — A  junketing — A 
delectable  beverage — Honey  and  alcohol — 
High  carousing — The  Canadian  ban  vivant — A 
cache — A  rapid  move — Wyeth  and  his  plans — 
his  travelling  companion — Buffalo  hunting — 
More  conviviality — An  interruption,  .  .  356 

CHAPTER   XLIII. 

A  rapid  march — A  cloud  of  dust — Wild  horse- 
men— "High  jinks" — Horse  racing  and  rifle 
shooting — The  game  of  hand  —  The  fishing 
season — Mode  of  fishing — Table  lands — Sal- 


Xll 


CONTENTS. 


mon  fishers — The  captain's  visit  to  an  Indian 
lodge— The  Indian  girl— The  pocket  mirror- 
Supper — Troubles  of  an  evil  conscience, .  .  358 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Outfit  of  a  trapper— Risks  to  which  he  is  sub- 
jected—Partnership of  trappers — Enmity  of 
Indians— Distant  smoke— A  country  on  fire 
— Gun  Creek— Grand  Rond — Fine  pastures — 
Perplexities  in  a  smoky  country — Conflagration 
of  forests, 360 

CHAPTER  XLV. 

The  Skynses  —  their  traffic  —  hunting  —  food  — 
horses — A  horse-race — Devotional  feeling  of 
the  Skynses,  Nez  Perces,  and  Flatheads — 
Prayers — Exhortations — A  preacher  on  horse- 
back— Effect  of  religion  on  the  manners  of  the 
tribes — A  new  light,  .....  361 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 

Scarcity  in  the  camp — Refusal  of  supplies  by 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company — Conduct  of  the 
Indians — A  hungry  retreat — John  Day's  River 
— The  Blue  Mountains — Salmon  fishing  on 
Snake  River  —  Messengers  from  the  Crow 
country — Bear  River  valley — Immense  migra- 
tion of  buffalo — Danger  of  buffalo  hunting — 
A  wounded  Indian — Eutaw  Indians — A  "  sur- 
round" of  antelopes, 363 


CHAPTER  XLVII.  PAGK 

A  festive  winter — Conversion  of  the  Shoshonies 
— Visit  of  two  free  trappers — Gayety  in  the 
camp — A  touch  of  the  tender  passion — The 
reclaimed  squaw — An  Indian  fine  lady — An 
elopement — A  pursuit  —  Market  value  of  a 
bad  wife,  ........  365 

CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

Breaking  up  of  winter  quarters — Move  to  Green 
River — A  trapper  and  his  rifle — An  arrival  in 
camp — A  free  trapper  and  his  squaw  in  dis- 
tress— Story  of  a  Blackfoot  belle,  .  .  .  366 

CHAPTER   XLIX. 

A  rendezvous  at  Wind  River — Campaign  of  Mon- 
tero  and  his  brigade  in  the  Crow  country — 
Wars  between  the  Crows  and  Blackfeet  — 
Death  of  Arapooish — Blackfeet  lurkers — Sa- 
gacity of  the  horse — Dependence  of  the  hunter 
on  his  horse — Return  to  the  settlements,  .  368 


APPENDIX. 

Mr.  Wyeth,  and  the  trade  of  the  far  West,  .         .  370 
Wreck  of  a  Japanese  junk   on  the   Northwest 

Coast, 371 

Instructions  to  Captain  Bonneville  from  the 
Major-General  commanding  the  Army  of  the 
United  States, 371 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


DON  JUAN:  A  Spectral  Research, 
BROEK:  or  the  Dutch  Paradise,    . 


MOUXTJOY  :  or  Some  Passages  out  of  the  Life  of 
a  Castle-Builder, 373 

THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI   BUBBLE — "A  Time  of 
Unexampled  Prosperity,"         ....  386 

.  396 

•  399 

SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825— From  the  Travel- 
ling  Note-Book  of  Geoffrey  Crayon,  gent.,  .  401 

My  French  Neighbor, 401 

The  Englishman  at  Paris,  ....  402 
English  and  French  Character,  .  .  .  403 
The  Tuileries  and  Windsor  Castle,  .  .  .  404 

The  Field  of  Waterloo, 405 

Paris  at  the  Restoration 406 

AMERICAN  RESEARCHES  IN  ITALY — Life  of  Tasso: 
Recovery  of  a  Lost  Portrait  of  Dante,      .  407 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL,         ....  409 
The  Charming  Letorieres 412 

THE  EARLY  EXPERIENCES  OF  RALPH  RINGWOOD — 
Noted  Down  from  his  Conversations,      .        .  413 

THE  SEMINOLES, 423 

ORIGIN  OF  THE  WHITE,   THE    RED,   AND  THE 
BLACK  MEN — A  Seminole  Tradition,       .        .  424 

THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  NEAMATHLA — An  Authentic 
Sketch 425 

LETTER  FROM  GRANADA, 427 

ABDERAHMAN  :  Founder  of  the  Dynasty  of  the 
Ommiades  in  Spain, 429 

THE  WIDOW'S  ORDEAL,  or  a  Judicial  Trial  by 
Combat, 433 

THE  CREOLE  VILLAGE  :  A  Sketch  from  a  Steam- 
boat 439 

A  CONTENTED  MAN,    .......  441 


CONTENTS. 


MOORISH  CHRONICLES. 


CHRONICLE    OF   FERNAN    GONZALEZ. 


INTRODUCTION,    ...••..  445 

CHAPTER  I. 

Installation  of  Fernan  Gonzalez  as  Count  of  Castile. 
— His  first  campaign  against  the  Moors. — Victory 
of  San  Quirce. — How  the  Count  disposed  of  the 
spoils,  ........  445 

CHAPTER  II. 

Of  the  sally  from  Burgos  and  surprise  of  the  castle 
of  Lara. — Capitulation  of  the  town. — Visit  to 
Alfonso  the  Great,  King  of  Leon,  .  .  .  446 

CHAPTER  III. 

Expedition  against  the  fortress  of  Mugnon. — Des- 
perate defence  of  the  Moors. — Enterprise  against 
Castro  XerLz, 447 


CHAPTER  IV. 

How  the  Count  of  Castile  and  the  King  of  Leon 
make  a  triumphant  foray  into  the  Moorish 
country. — Capture  of  Salamanca. — Of  the  chal- 
lenge brought  by  the  Herald  and  of  the  Count's 
defiance, 448 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  night  assault  upon  the  castla  of  Carazo. — The 
Moorish  maiden  who  betrayed  the  garrison,        .  448 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Death  of  Alfonso,  King  of  Leon. — The  Moors  de- 
termined to  strike  a  fresh  blow  at  the  Count,  who 
summons  all  Castile  to  his  standard. — Of  his  hunt 
in  the  forest  while  waiting  for  the  enemy,  and  of 
the  hermit  that  he  met  with,  ....  449 


CHAPTER  VII. 
The  battle  of  the  Ford  of  Cascajares, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 


45° 


Of  the  message  sent  by  the  Count  to  Sancho  II.,  King 
of  Navarre,  and  the  reply. — Their  encounter  in 
battle,  .....  4  ..  451 

CHAPTER  IX. 

How  the  Count  of  Toulouse  makes  a  campaign 
against  Castile,  and  how  he  returns  in  his  coffin,  .  415 


CHAPTER  X. 

How  the  Count  went  to  receive  the  hand  of  a  Prin- 
cess, and  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon. — Of  the 
stranger  that  visited  him  in  his  chains,  and  of  the 
appeal  that  he  made  to  the  Princess  for  his  deliv- 
erance, 


452 


CHAPTER  XL 

Of  the  meditations  of  the  Princess,  and  their  result. 
— Her  flight  from  the  prison  with  the  Count,  and 
perils  of  the  escape. — The  nuptials,  .  .  .  453 

CHAPTER  XII. 

King  Garcia  confined  in  Burgos  by  the  Count. — 
The  Princess  intercedes  for  his  release,  .  .  454 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Of  the  expedition  against  the  ancient  city  of  Sylo. 
— The  unwitting  trespass  of  the  Count  into  a  con- 
vent, and  his  compunction  thereupon,  .  .  454 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Of  the  Moorish  host  that  came  up  from  Cordova, 
and  how  the  Count  repaired  to  the  hermitage  of 
San  Pedro,  and  prayed  for  success  against  them, 
and  received  assurance  of  victory  in  a  vision. — 
Battle  of  Hazinas, 455 

CHAPTER  XV. 

The  Count  imprisoned  by  the  King  of  Leon. — The 
Countess  concerts  his  escape. — Leon  and  Castile 
united  by  the  marriage  of  the  Prince  Ordono  with 
Urraca,  the  daughter  of  the  Count  by  his  first  wife,  456 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Moorish  incursion  into  Castile. — Battle  of  San  Es- 
tevan. — Of  Pascual  Vivas  and  the  miracle  that 
befell  him.— Death  of  Ordono  III.,  .  .  .457 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

King  Sancho  the  Fat. — Of  the  homage  he  exacted 
from  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  and  of  the  strange 
bargain  that  he  made  with  him  for  the  purchase 
of  his  horse  and  falcon, 459 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Further  of  the  horse  and  falcon,     ....  459 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  last  campaign  of  Count  Fernan. — His  death,  .  460 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


CHRONICLE    OF    FERNANDO    THE    SAINT. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

The  parentage  of  Fernando. — Queen  Berenguela. — 
The  Laras. — Don  Alvar  conceals  the  death  of 
King  Henry.— Mission  of  Queen  Berenguela  to 
Alfonso  IX. — She  renounces  the  crown  of  Castile 
in  favor  of  her  son  Fernando,  ....  463 

CHAPTER  It 

King  Alfonso  of  Leon  ravages  Castile. — Captivity 
of  Don  Alvar. — Death  of  the  Laras,  .  .  .  464 

CHAPTER  III. 

Marriage  of  King  Fernando. — Campaign  against  the 
Moors. — Aben  Mohamed,  King  of  Baeza,  declares 
himself  the  vassal  of  King  Fernando. — They  march 
to  Jaen. — Burning  of  the  tower. — Fernando  com- 
mences the  building  of  the  cathedral  at  Toledo,  .  466 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Assassination  of  Aben  Mohamed. — His  head  carried 
as  a  present  to  Abullale,  the  Moorish  King  of 
Seville. — Advance  of  the  Christians  into  Andalu- 
sia.— Abullale  purchases  a  truce,  .  .  .  467 

CHAPTER  V. 

Aben  Hud. — Abullale  purchases  another  year's 
truce. — Fernando  hears  of  the  death  of  his  father, 
the  King  of  Leon,  while  pressing  the  siege  of  Jaen. 
— He  becomes  sovereign  of  the  two  kingdoms  of 
Leon  and  Castile,  ......  467 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Expedition  of  the  Prince  Alonzo  against  the  Moors. 

k  — Encamps  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalete. — Aben 
Hud  marches  out  from  Xerez  and  gives  battle. — 
Prowess  of  Garcia  Perez  de  Vargas. — Flight  and 
pursuit  of  the  Moors. — Miracle  of  the  blessed 
Santiago, 468 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  bold  attempt  upon  Cordova,  the  seat  of  Moorish 


power, 


470 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  spy  in  the  Christian  camp. — Death  of  Aben  Hud. 
— A  vital  blow  to  Moslem  power. — Surrender  of 
Cordova  to  King  Fernando,  .  .  .  .471 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Marriage  of  King  Fernando  to  the  Princess  Juana. 
— Famine  at  Cordova. — Don  Alvar  Perez,  .  472 

CHAPTER  X. 

Aben  Alhamar,  founder  of  the  Alhambra. — Fortifies 
Granada  and  makes  it  his  capital. — Attempts  to 
surprise  the  castle  of  Martos. — Peril  of  the  for- 
tress.— A  woman's  stratagem  to  save  it. — Diego 
Perez,  the  Smasher. — Death  of  Count  Alvar  Perez 
de  Castro, 473 


CHAPTER  XI.  FAGS 

Aben  Hudiel,  the  Moorish  king  of  Murcia,  becomes 
the  vassal  of  King  Fernando. — Aben  Alhamar 
seeks  to  drive  the  Christians  out  of  Andalusia. — 
Fernando  takes  the  field  against  him. — Ravages 
of  the  king. — His  last  meeting  with  the  queen- 
mother,  474 

.      CHARTER.  XIL 

King  Fernando's  expedition  to  Andalusia. — Siege 
of  Jaen.  —  Secret  departure  of  Aben  Alhamar  for 
the  Christian  camp. — He  acknowledges  himself 
the  vassal  of  the  king,  who  enters  Jaen  in  triumph,  476 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Axataf,  King  of  Seville,  exasperated  at  the  submis- 
sion of  the  King  of  Granada,  rejects  the  proposi- 
tions of  King  Fernando  for  a  truce. — The  latter 
is  encouraged  by  a  vision  to  undertake  the  con- 
quest of  the  city  of  Seville. — Death  of  Queen 
Berenguela. — A  diplomatic  marriage,  .  .  477 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Investment  of  Seville. —  All  Spain  aroused  to  arms. 
— Surrender  of  Alcala  del  Rio. — The  fleet  of  Ad- 
miral Ramon  Bonifaz  advances  up  the  Guadalqui- 
vir.— Don  Pelayo  Correa,  Master  of  Santiago. — 
His  valorous-  deeds,  and  the  -miracles  wrought  in 
his  behalf, 478 

CHAPTER  XV. 

King  Fernando  changes  his  camp.  —  Garci  Perez  and 
the  seven  Moors, 479 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

Of  the  raft  built  by  the  Moors,  and  how  it  was 
boarded  by  Admiral  Bonifaz. — Destruction  of  the 
Moorish  fleet. — Succor  from  Africa,  .  .  .  480 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

Of  the  stout  Prior,  Ferran  Ruyz,  and  how  he  res- 
cued his  cattle  from  the  Moors. — Further  enter- 
prises of  the  Prior,  and  of  the  ambuscade  into 
which  he  fell, 481 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Bravado  of  the  three  cavaliers. — Ambush  at  the 
bridge  over  the  Guadayra. — Desperate  valor  of 
Garci  Perez. — Grand  attempt  of  Admiral  Bonifaz 
on  the  bridge  of  boats. — Seville  dismembered 
from  Triana, 482 


484 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Investment  of  Triana. — Garci  Perez  and  the  Infan- 
zon,  .  .  

CHAPTER   XX 

Capitulation  of  Seville. — Dispersion  of  the  Moorish 
inhabitants. — Triumphant  entry  of  King  Fer- 
nando,  485 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Death  of  King  Fernando,      .         .         .        •        .  486 


PREFACE. 


SOME  apology  may  seem  necessary  for  present- 
ing a  life  of  Mahomet  at  the  present  day,  when 
no  new  fact  can  be  added  to  those  already  known 
concerning  him.  Many  years  since,  during  a 
residence  in  Madrid,  the  author  projected  a  series 
of  writings  illustrative  of  the  domination  of  the 
Arabs  in  Spain.  These  were  to  be  introduced  by 
a  sketch  of  the  life  of  the  founder  of  the  Islam 
faith,  and  the  )first  mover  of  Arabian  conquest. 
Most  of  the  particulars  for  this  were  drawn  from 
Spanish  sources,  and  from  Gagnier's  translation 
of  the  Arabian  historian  Abulfeda,  a  copy  of 
which  the  author  found  in  the  Jesuits'  Library  of 
the  Convent  of  St.  Isidro,  at  Madrid. 

Not  having  followed  out  in  its  extent,  the  liter- 
ary plan  devised,  the  manuscript  life  lay  neglect- 
ed among  the  author's  papers  until  the  year  1831, 
when  he  revised  and  enlarged  it  for  the  Family 
Library  of  Mr.  John  Murray.  Circumstances  pre- 
vented its  publication  at  the  time,  and  it  again 
was  thrown  aside  for  years. 

During  his  last  residence  in  Spain,  the  author 
beguiled  the  tediousness  of  a  lingering  indisposi- 
tion, by  again  revising  the  manuscript,  profiting 
in  so  doing  by  recent  lights  thrown  on  the  sub- 


ject by  different  writers,  and  particularly  by  Dr. 
Gustav  Weil,  the  very  intelligent  and  learned 
librarian  of  the  University  of  Heidelberg,  to 
whose  industrious  researches  and  able  disquisi- 
tions, he  acknowledges  himself  greatly  indebted.* 
Such  is  the  origin  of  the  work  now  given  to  the 
public  ;  on  which  the  author  lays  no  claim  to 
novelty  of  fact,  nor  profundity  of  research.  It 
still  bears  the  type  of  a  work  intended  for  a 
family  library  ;  in  constructing  which  the  whole 
aim  of  the  writer  has  been  to  digest  into  an  easy, 
perspicuous,  and  flowing  narrative,  the  admitted 
facts  concerning  Mahomet,  together  with  such 
legends  and  traditions  as  have  been  wrought  into 
the  whole  system  of  oriental  literature  ;  and  at  the 
same  time  to  give  such  a  summary  of  his  faith  as 
might  be  sufficient  for  the  more  general  reader. 
Under  such  circumstances,  he  has  not  thought  it 
worth  while  to  incumber  his  pages  with  a  scaffold- 
ing of  references  and  citations,  nor  depart  from 
the  old  English  nomenclature  of  oriental  names. 

SUNNYSIDE,  1849.  W.  I. 


*  Mohammed   der  Prophet,  sein  Leben  und  seine 
Lehre.     Stuttgart,  1843. 


MAHOMET 


AND 


HIS     SUCCESSORS. 


BY 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PRELIMINARY   NOTICE   OF   ARABIA   AND   THE 
ARABS. 

DURING  a  long  succession  of  ages,  extending 
from  the  earliest  period  of  recorded  history  down 
to  the  seventh  century  of  the  Christian  era,  that 
great  chersonese  or  peninsula  formed  by  the  Red 
Sea,  the  Euphrates,  the  Gulf  of  Persia,  and  the 
Indian  Ocean,  and  known  by  the  name  of  Arabia, 
remained  unchanged  and  almost  unaffected  by 
the  events  which  convulsed  the  rest  of  Asia,  and 
shook  Europe  and  Africa  to  their  centre.  While 
kingdoms  and  empires  rose  and  fell  ;  while  an- 
cient dynasties  passed  away  ;  while  the  bounda- 
ries and  names  of  countries  were  changed,  and 
their  inhabitants  were  exterminated  or  carried 
into  captivity,  Arabia,  though  its  frontier  prov- 
inces experienced  some  vicissitudes,  preserved  in 
the  depths  of  its  deserts  its  primitive  character 
and  independence,  nor  had  its  nomadic  tribes 
ever  bent  their  haughty  necks  to  servitude. 

The  Arabs  carry  bacE:  the  traditions  of  their 
country  to  the  highest  antiquity.  It  was  peopled, 
they  say,  soon  after  the  deluge,  by  the  progeny  of 
Shem,  the  son  of  Noah,  who  gradually  formed 
themselves  into  several  tribes,  the  most  noted  of 
which  are  the  Adites  and  Thamudites.  All  these 
primitive  tribes  are  said  to  have  been  either  swept 
from  the  earth  in  punishment  of  their  iniquities, 
or  obliterated  in  subsequent  modifications  of  the 
races,  so  that  little  remains  concerning  them  but 
shadowy  traditions  and  a  few  passages  in  the 
Koran.  They  are  occasionally  mentioned  in  ori- 
ental history  as  the  "  old  primitive  Arabians" — 
the  "  lost  tribes." 

The  permanent  population  of  the  peninsula  is 
ascribed,  by  the  same  authorities,  to  Kahtan  or 
Joctan,  a  descendant  in  the  fourth  generation  from 
Shem.  His  posterity  spread  over  the  southern 
part  of  the  peninsula  and  along  the  Red  Sea. 
Yarab,  one  of  his  sons,  founded  the  kingdom  of 
Yemen,  where  the  territory  of  Araba  was  called 
after  him  ;  whence  the  Arabs  derive  the  names  of 
themselves  and  their  country.  Jurham,  another 
son,  founded  the  kingdom  of  Hedjaz,  over  which 
his  descendants  bore  sway  for  many  generations. 
Among  these  people  Hagar  and  her  son  Ishmael 
Were  kindly  received,  when  exiled  from  their  home 


by  the  patriarch  Abraham.  In  the  process  of 
time  Ishmael  married  the  daughter  of  Modad,  a 
reigning  prince  of  the  line  of  Jurham  ;  and  thus  a 
stranger  and  a  Hebrew  became  grafted  on  the 
original  Arabian  stock.  It  proved  a  vigorous 
graft.  Ishmael's  wife  bore  him  twelve  sons,  who 
acquired  dominion  over  the  country,  and  whose 
prolific  race,  divided  into  twelve  tribes,  expelled 
or  overran  and  obliterated  the  primitive  stock  of 
Joctan. 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  the  peninsular 
Arabs  of  their  origin  ;  *  and  Christian  writers  cite 
it  as  containing  the  fulfilment  of  the  covenant  of 
God  with  Abraham,  as  recorded  in  Holy  Writ. 
"  And  Abraham  said  unto  God,  O  that  Ishmael 
might  live  before  thee  !  And  God  said,  As  for 
Ishmael,  I  have  heard  thee.  Behold,  I  have 
blessed  him,  and  will  make  him  fruitful,  and  will 
multiply  him  exceedingly  :  twelve  princes  shall 
he  beget,  and  I  will  make  him  a  great  nation" 
(Genesis  17  :  18,  20). 

These  twelve  princes  with  their  tribes  are  fur- 
ther spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures  (Genesis  25  :  18) 
as  occupying  the  country  "  from  Havilah  unto 
Shur,  that  is  before  Egypt,  as  thou  goest  toward 
Assyria  ;"  a  region  identified  by  sacred  geogra- 
phers with  part  of  Arabia.  The  description  of 
them  agrees  with  that  of  the  Arabs  of  the  present 
day.  Some  are  mentioned  as  holding  towns  and 
castles,  others  as  dwelling  in  tents,  or  having  vil- 
lages in  the  wilderness.  Nebaioth  and  Kedar, 
the  two  first-born  of  Ishmael,  are  most  noted 
among  the  princes  for  their  wealth  in  flocks  and 
herds,  and  for  the  fine  wool  of  their  sheep.  From 
Nebaioth  came  the  Nabathai  who  inhabited  Stony 
Arabia  ;  while  the  name  of  Kedar  is  occasionally 


*  Besides  the  Arabs  of  the  peninsula,  who  were  all 
of  the  Shemitic  race,  there  were  others  called  Cush- 
ites,  being  descended  from  Cush  the  son  of  Ham. 
They  inhabited  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates  and  the 
Persian  Gulf.  The  name  of  Cush  is  often  given  in 
Scripture  to  the  Arabs  generally  as  well  as  to  their 
country.  It  must  be  the  Arabs  of  this  race  who  at 
sresent  roam  the  deserted  regions  of  ancient  Assyria, 
and  have  been  employed  recently  in  disinterring  the 
ong-buried  ruins  of  Nineveh.  They  are  sometimes 
distinguished  as  the  Syro-Arabians.  The  present 
work  relates  only  to  the  Arabs  of  the  peninsula,  or 
Arabia  Proper. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


given  in  Holy  Writ  to  designate  the  whole  Ara- 
bian nation.  "Woe  is  me,"  says  the  Psalmist, 
"  that  I  sojourn  in  Mesech,  that  I  dwell  in  the 
tents  of  Kedar."  Both  appear  to  have  been  the 
progenitors  of  the  wandering  or  pastoral  Arabs  ; 
the  free  rovers  of  the  desert.  "  The  wealthy  na- 
i  tion,"  says  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  "  that  dwelleth 
,  without  care  ;  which  have  neither  gates  nor  bars, 
which  dwell  alone." 

A  strong  distinction  grew  up  in  the  earliest 
times  between  the  Arabs  who  "  held  towns  and 
castles,"  and  those  who  "  dwelt  in  tents."  Some 
of  the  former  occupied  the  fertile  wadies,  or  val- 
leys, scattered  here  and  there  among  the  moun- 
tains, where  these  towns  and  castles  were  sur- 
rounded by  vineyards  and  orchards,  groves  of 
palm-trees,  fields  of  grain,  and  well-stocked  pas- 
tures. They  were  settled  in  their  habits,  devoting 
themselves  to  the  cultivation  of  the  soil  and  the 
breeding  of  cattle. 

Others  of  this  class  gave  themselves  up  to  com- 
merce, having  ports  and  cities  along  the  Red 
Sea  ;  the  southern  shores  of  the  peninsula  and  the 
Gulf  of  Persia,  and  carrying  on  foreign  trade  by 
means  of  ships  and  caravans.  Such  especially 
were  the  people  of  Yemen,  or  Arabia  the  Happy, 
that  land  of  spices,  perfumes,  and  frankincense  ; 
the  Sabaea  of  the  poets  ;  the  Sheba  of  the  sacred 
Scriptures.  They  were  among  the  most  active 
mercantile  navigators  of  the  eastern  seas.  Their 
ships  brought  to  their  shores  the  myrrh  and  bal- 
sams of  the  opposite  coast  of  Berbera,  with  the 
gold,  the  spices,  and  other  rich  commodities  of 
India  and  tropical  Africa.  These,  with  the  prod- 
ucts of  their  own  country,  were  transported  by 
caravans  across  the  deserts  to  the  semi-Arabian 
states  of  Ammon,  Moab,  and  Edom  or  Idumea  to 
the  Phoenician  ports  of  the  Mediterranean,  and 
thence  distributed  to  the  western  world. 

The  camel  has  been  termed  the  ship  of  the 
desert ;  the  caravan  may  be  termed  its  fleet.  The 
caravans  of  Yemen  were  generally  fitted  out, 
manned,  conducted,  and  guarded  by  the  nomadic 
Arabs,  the  dwellers  in  tents,  who,  in  this  respect, 
might  be  called  the  navigators  of  the  desert. 
They  furnished  the  innumerable  camels  required, 
and  also  contributed  to  the  freight  by  the  fine 
fleeces  of  their  countless  flocks.  The  writings  of 
the  prophets  show  the  importance,  in  scriptural 
times,  of  this  inland  chain  of  commerce  by  which 
the  rich  countries  of  the  south,  India,  Ethiopia, 
and  Arabia  the  Happy,  were  linked  with  ancient 
Syria. 

Ezekiel,  in  his  lamentations  for  Tyre,  exclaims, 
"  Arabia,  and  all  the  princes  of  Kedar,  they  occu- 
pied with  thee  in  lambs,  and  rams,  and  goats  ;  in 
these  were  they  thy  merchants.  The  merchants 
of  Sheba  and  Raamah  occupied  in  thy  fairs  with 
chief  of  all  spices,  and  with  all  precious  stones  and 
gold.  Haran,  and  Canneh,  and  Eden,*  the  mer- 
chants of  Sheba,  Asshur,  and  Chelmad,  were  thy 
merchants."  And  Isaiah,  speaking  to  Jerusalem, 
says  :  "  The  multitude  of  camels  shall  cover  thee  ; 
the  dromedaries  of  Midian  and  Ephah  ;  all  they 
from  Sheba  shall  come  ;  they  shall  bring  gold  and 
incense.  .  .  .  All  the  flocks  of  Kedar  shall  be 
gathered  together  unto  thee  ;.the  rams  of  Neba- 
ioth  shall  minister  unto  thee"  (Isaiah  60  :  6,  7). 

The  agricultural  and  trading  Arabs,  however, 
the  dwellers  in  towns  and  cities,  have  never  been 
considered  the  true  type  of  the  race.  They  be- 
came softened  by  settled  and  peaceful  occupa- 
tions, and  lost  much  of  their  original  stamp  by 

*  Haran,  Canna,  and  Aden,  ports  on  the  Indian  Sea. 


an  intercourse  with  strangers.  Yemen,  too,  being 
more  accessible  than  the  other  parts  of  Arabia, 
and  offering  greater  temptation  to  the  spoiler, 
had  been  repeatedly  invaded  and  subdued. 

It  was  among  the  other  class  of  Arabs,  the  ro- 
vers of  the  desert,  the  "  dwellers  in  tents,"  by  far 
the  most  numerous  of  the  two,  that  the  national 
character  was  preserved  in  all  its  primitive  force 
and  freshness.  Nomadic  in  their  habits,  pastoral 
in  their  occupations,  and  acquainted  by  experience 
and  tradition  with  all  the  hidden  resources  of  the 
desert,  they  led  a  wandering  life,  roaming  from 
place  to  place  in  quest  of  those  wells  and  springs 
which  had  been  the  resort  of  their  forefathers  since 
the  days  of  the  patriarchs  ;  encamping  wherever 
they  could  find  date-trees  for  shade,  and  suste- 
nance and  pasturage  for  their  flocks,  and  herds, 
and  camels  ;  and  shifting  their  abode  whenever 
the  temporary  supply  was  exhausted. 

These  nomadic  Arabs  were  divided  and  subdi- 
vided into  innumerable  petty  tribes  or  families, 
each  with  its  Sheikh  or  Emir,  the  representative 
of  the  patriarch  of  yore,  whose  spear,  planted  be- 
side his  tent,  was  the  ensign  of  command.  His 
office,  however,  though  continued  for  many  gen- 
erations in  the  same  family,  was  not  strictly  he- 
reditary, but  depended  upon  the  good-will  ot  the 
tribe.  He  might  be  deposed,  and  another  of  a 
different  line  elected  in  his  place.  His  power, 
too,  was  limited,  and  depended  upon  his  personal 
merit  and  the  confidence  reposed  in  him.  His 
prerogative  consisted  in  conducting  negotiations 
of  peace  and  war  ;  in  leading  his  tribe  against  the 
enemy  ;  in  choosing  the  place  of  encampment, 
and  in  receiving  and  entertaining  strangers  of 
note.  Yet,  even  in  these  and  similar  privileges, 
he  was  controlled  by  the  opinions  and  inclinations 
of  his  people.* 

*  In  summer  the  wandering  Arabs,  says  Burck- 
hardt,  seldom  remain  above  three  or  four  days  on  the 
same  spot  ;  as  soon  as  their  cattle  have  consumed  the 
herbage  near  a  watering  place,  the  tribe  removes  in 
search  of  pasture,  and  the  grass  again  springing  up, 
serves  for  a  succeeding  camp.  The  encampments  vary 
in  the  number  of  tents,  from  six  to  eight  hundred  ; 
when  the  tents  are  but  few,  they  are  pitched  in  a  cir- 
cle ;  but  more  considerable  numbers  in  a  straight 
line,  or  a  row  of  single  tents,  especially  along  a  rivu- 
let, sometimes  three  or  four  behind  as  many  others. 
In  winter,  when  water  and  pasture  never  fail,  the 
whole  tribe  spreads  itself  over  the  plain  in  parties  of 
three  or  four  tents  each,  with  an  interval  of  half  an 
hour's  distance  between  each  party.  The  Sheikh's 
tent  is  always  on  the  side  on  which  enemies  or  guests 
may  be  expected.  To  oppose  the  former,  and  to 
honor  the  latter,  is  the  Sheikh's  principal  business. 
Every  father  of  a  family  sticks  his  lance  into  the 
ground  by  the  side  of  his  tent,  and  ties  his  horse  in 
front.  There  also  his  camels  repose  at  night. — 
Burckhardt,  Notes  on  Bedouins,  vol.  i.  p.  33. 

The  following  is  descriptive  of  the  Arabs  of  Assy- 
ria, though  it  is  applicable,  in  a  great  degree,  to  the 
whole  race. 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  appearance  of 
a  large  tribe  when  migrating  to  new  pastures.  We 
soon  found  ourselves  in  the  midst  of  wide-spreading 
flocks  of  sheep  and  camels.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  to  the  right,  to  the  left,  and  in  front,  still  the 
same  moving  crowd.  Long  lines  of  asses  and  bul- 
locks, laden  with  black  tents,  huge  caldrons,  and  vari- 
egated carpets  ;  aged  women  and  men,  no  longer  able 
to  walk,  tied  on  the  heap  of  domestic  furniture  ;  in- 
fants crammed  into  saddlebags,  their  tiny  heads  thrust 
through  the  narrow  opening,  balanced  on  the  animal's 
back  by  kids  or  lambs  tied  on  the  opposite  side  ; 
young  girls  clothed  only  in  the  close-fitting  Arab  shirt 
which  displayed  rather  than  concealed  their  graceful 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


However  numerous  and  minute  might  be  the 
divisions  of  a  tribe,  the  links  of  affinity  were  care- 
fully kept  in  mind  by  the  several  sections.  All  the 
Sheikhs  of  the  same  tribe  acknowledge  a  common 
chief  called  the  Sheikh  of  Sheikhs,  who,  whether 
ensconced  in  a  rock-built  castle,  or  encamped 
amid  his  flocks  and  herds  in  the  desert,  might  as- 
semble under  his  standard  all  the  scattered 
branches  on  any  emergency  affecting  the  common 
weal. 

The  multiplicity  of  these  wandering  tribes,  each 
with  its  petty  prince  and  petty  territory,  but  with- 
out a  national  head,  produced  frequent  collisions. 
Revenge,  too,  was  almost  a  religious  principle 
among  them.  To  avenge  a  relative  slain  was  the 
duty  of  his  family,  and  often  involved  the  honor  of 
his  tribe  ;  and  these  debts  of  blood  sometimes 
remained  unsettled  for  generations,  producing 
deadly  feuds. 

The  necessity  of  being  always  on  the  alert  to 
defend  his  flocks  and  herds  made  the  Arab  of  the 
desert  familiar  from  his  infancy  with  the  exercise 
of  arms.  None  could  excel  him  in  the  use  of  the 
bow,  the  lance  and  the  scimitar,  and  the  adroit 
and  graceful  management  of  the  horse.  He  was 
a  predatory  warrior  also  ;  for  though  at  times  he 
was  engaged  in  the  service  of  the  merchant,  fur- 
nishing him  with  camels  and  guides  and  drivers 
for  the  transportation  of  his  merchandise,  he  was 
more  apt  to  lay  contributions  on  the  caravan  or 
plunder  it  outright  in  its  toilful  progress  through 
the  desert.  All  this  he  regarded  as  a  legitimate 
exercise  of  arms  ;  looking  down  upon  the  gainful 
sons  of  traffic  as  an  inferior  race,  debased  by  sor- 
did habits  and  pursuits. 

Such  was  the  Arab  of  the  desert,  the  dweller  in 
tents,  in  whom  was  fulfilled  the  prophetic  destiny 
of  his  ancestor  Ishmael.  "  He  will  be  a  wild 
man  ;  his  hand  will  be  against  every  man,  and 
every  man's  hand  against  him."  *  Nature  had 
fitted  him  for  his  destiny.  His  form  was  light  and 
meagre,  but  sinewy  and  active,  and  capable  of 
sustaining  great  fatigue  and  hardship.  He  was 
temperate  and  even  abstemious,  requiring  but  lit- 
tle food,  and  that  of  the  simplest  kind.  His  mind, 
like  his  body,  was  light  and  agile.  He  eminently 
possessed  the  intellectual  attributes  of  the  She- 
mitic  race,  penetrating  sagacity,  subtle  wit,  a 
ready  conception,  and  a  brilliant  imagination. 
His  sensibilities  were  quick  and  acute,  though  not 
lasting  ;  a  proud  and  daring  sprit  was  stamped 
on  his  sallow  visage  and  flashed  from  his  dark 
and  kindling  eye.  He  was  easily  aroused  by  the 
appeals  of  eloquence,  and  charmed  by  the  graces 
of  poetry.  Speaking  a  language  copious  in  the 
extreme,  the  words  of  which  have  been  compared 
to  gems  and  flowers,  he  was  naturally  an  orator  ; 
but  he  delighted  in  proverbs  and  apothegms, 
rather  than  in  sustained  flights  of  declamation, 
and  was  prone  to  convey  his  ideas  in  the  oriental 
style  by  apologue  and  parable. 

Though  a  restless  and  predatory  warrior,  he 
was  generous  and  hospitable.  He  delighted  in 
giving  gifts  ;  his  door  was  always  open  to  the 
wayfarer,  with  whom  he  was  ready  to  share  his 
last  morsel  ;  and  his  deadliest  foe,  having  once 

forms  ;  mothers  with  their  children  on  their  shoul- 
ders ;  boys  driving  flocks  of  lambs  ;  horsemen  armed 
with  their  long  tufted  spears,  scouring  the  plain  on 
their  fleet  mares  ;  riders  urging  their  dromedaries  with 
their  short  hooked  sticks,  and  leading  their  high-bred 
steeds  by  the  halter ;  colts  galloping  among  the 
throng — such  was  the  motley  crowd  through  which 
we  had  to  wend  our  way." — Layard's  Nineveh,  \.  4. 
*  Genesis  16  :  12. 


broken  bread  with  him,  might  repose  securely  be- 
neath the  inviolable  sanctity  of  his  tent. 

In  religion  the  Arabs,  in  what  they  term  the 
Days  of  Ignorance,  partook  largely  of  the  two 
faiths,  the  Sabean  and  the  Magian,  which  at  that 
time  prevailed  over  the  eastern  world.  The 
Sabean,  however,  was  the  one  to  which  they  most 
adhered.  They  pretended  to  derive  it  from  Sabi 
the  son  of  Seth,  who,  with  his  father  and  his 
brother  Enoch,  they  supposed  to  be  buried  in  the 
pyramids.  Others  derive  the  name  from  the  He- 
brew word,  Saba,  or  the  Stars,  and  trace  the  ori- 
gin of  the  faith  to  the  Assyrian  shepherds,  who  as 
they  watched  their  flocks  by  night  on  their  level 
plains,  and  beneath  their  cloudless  skies,  noted 
the  aspects  and  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
and  fopied  theories  of  their  good  and  evil  influ- 
ences on  human  affairs  ;  vague  notions  which  the 
Chaldean  philosophers  and  priests  reduced  to  a 
system,  supposed  to  be  more  ancient  even  than 
that  of  the  Egyptians. 

By  others  it  is  derived  from  still  higher  authori- 
ty, and  claimed  to  be  the  religion  of  the  antedilu- 
vian world.  It  survived,  say  they,  the  deluge, 
and  was  continued  among  the  patriarchs.  It  was 
taught  by  Abraham,  adopted  by  his  descendants, 
the  children  of  Israel,  and  sanctified  and  con- 
firmed in  the  tablets  of  the  law  delivered  unto 
Moses  amid  the  thunder  and  lightning  of  Mount 
Sinai. 

In  its  original  state  the  Sabean  faith  was  pure 
and  spiritual  ;  inculcating  a  belief  in  the  unity  of 
God,  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of  rewards. and 
punishments,  and  the  necessity  of  a  virtuous  and 
holy  life  to  obtain  a  happy  immortality.  So  pro- 
found was  the  reverence  of  the  Sabeans  for  the 
Supreme  Being,  that  they  never  mentioned  his 
name,  nor  did  they  venture  to  approach  him,  but 
through  intermediate  intelligences  or  angels. 
These  were  supposed  to  inhabit  and  animate  the 
heavenly  bodies,  in  the  same  way  as  the  human 
body  is  inhabited  and  animated  by  a  soul.  They 
were  placed  in  their  respective  spheres  to  super- 
vise and  govern  the  universe  in  subserviency  to 
the  Most  High.  In  addressing  themselves  to  the 
stars  and  other  celestial  luminaries,  therefore,  the 
Sabeans  did  not  worship  them  as  deities,  but 
sought  only  to  propitiate  their  angelic  occupants 
as  intercessors  with  the  Supreme  Being  ;  looking 
up  through  these  created  things  to  God  the  great 
Creator. 

By  degrees  this  religion  lost  its  original  sim- 
plicity and  purity,  and  became  obscured  by  mys- 
teries, and  degraded  by  idolatries.  The  Sabeans, 
instead  of  regarding  the  heavenly  bodies  as  the 
habitations  of  intermediate  agents,  worshipped 
them  as  deities  ;  set  up  graven  images  in  honor 
of  them,  in  sacred  groves  and  in  the  gloom  of 
forests  ;  and  at  length  enshrined  these  idols  in 
temples,  and  worshipped  "them  as  if  instinct  with 
divinity.  The  Sabean  faith  too  underwent  changes 
and  modifications  in  the  various  countries 
through  which  it  was  diffused.  Egypt  has  long 
been  accused  of  reducing  it  to  the  most  abject 
state  of  degradation  ;  the  statues,  hieroglyphics, 
and  painted  sepulchres  of  that  mysterious  country, 
being  considered  records  of  the  worship,  not 
merely  of  celestial  intelligences,  but  of  the  lowest 
order  of  created  beings,  and  even  of  inanimate 
objects.  Modern  investigation  and  research, 
however,  are  gradually  rescuing  the  most  intel- 
lectual nation  of  antiquity  from  this  aspersion, 
and  as  they  slowly  lift  the  veil  of  mystery  which 
hangs  over  the  tombs  of  Egypt,  are  discovering 
that  all  these  apparent  objects  of  adoration  were 


s 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


but  symbols  of  the  varied  attributes  of  the  one  Su- 
preme Being,  whose  name  was  too  sacred  to  be 
pronounced  by  mortals.  Among  the  Arabs  the 
Sabean  faith  became  mingled  with  wild  supersti- 
tions, and  degraded  by  gross  idolatry.  Each 
.  tribe  worshipped  its  particular  star  or  planet,  or 
set  up  its  particular  idol.  Infanticide  mingled  its 
horrors  with  their  religious  rites.  Among  the 
nomadic  tribes  the  birth  of  a  daughter  was  con- 
sidered a  misfortune,  her  sex  rendering  her  of  lit- 
tle service  in  a  wandering  and  predatory  life, 
while  she  might  bring  disgrace  upon  her  family 
by  misconduct  or  captivity.  Motives  of  unnatural 
policy,  therefore,  may  have  mingled  with  their  re- 
ligious feelings,  in  offering  up  female  infants  as 
sacrifices  to  their  idols,  or  in  burying  them  alive. 

The  rival  sect  of  Magians  or  Guebres  (fire  wor- 
shippers), which,  as  we  have  said,  divided  the  re- 
ligious empire  of  the  East,  took  its  rise  in  Persia, 
where,  after  a  while,  its  oral  doctrines  were  re- 
duced to  writing  by  its  great  prophet  and  teacher 
Zoroaster,  in  his  volume  of  the  Zendavesta.  The 
creed,  like  that  of  the  Sabeans,  was  originally 
simple  and  spiritual,  inculcating  a  belief  in  one 
supreme  and  eternal  God,  in  whom  and  by  whom 
the  universe  exists  :  that  he  produced,  through  his 
creating  word,  two  active  principles,  Ormusd,  the 
principle  or  angel  of  light  or  good,  and  Ahriman, 
the  principle  or  angel  of  darkness  or  evil  :  that 
these  formed  the  world  out  of  a  mixture  of  their 
opposite  elements,  and  were  engaged  in  a  per- 
petual contest  in  the  regulation  of  its  affairs. 
Hence  the  vicissitudes  of  good  and  evil,  accord- 
ingly as  the  angel  of  light  or  darkness  has  the 
upper  hand  :  this  contest  would  continue  until  the 
end  of  the  world,  when  there  would  be  a  general 
resurrection  and  a  day  of  judgment  ;  the  angel 
of  darkness  and  his  disciples  would  then  be  ban- 
ished to  an  abode  of  woeful  gloom,  and  their  op- 
ponents would  enter  the  blissful  realms  of  ever- 
during  light. 

The  primitive  rites  of  this  religion  were  ex- 
tremely simple.  The  Magians  had  neither  tem- 
ples, altars,  nor  religious  symbols  of  any  kind,  but 
addressed  their  prayers  and  hymns  directly  to  the 
Deity,  in  what  they  conceived  to  be  his  residence, 
the  sun.  They  reverenced  this  luminary  as  being 
his  abode,  and  as  the  source  of  the  light  and  heat 
of  which  all  the  other  heavenly  bodies  were  com- 
posed ;  and  they  kindled  fires  upon  the  mountain 
tops  to  supply  light  during  its  absence.  Zoroas- 
ter first  introduced  the  use  of  temples,  wherein 
sacred  fire,  pretended  to  be  derived  from  heaven, 
was  kept  perpetually  alive  through  the  guardian- 
ship of  priests,  who  maintained  a  watch  over  it 
night  and  day. 

In  process  of  time  this  sect,  like  that  of  the  Sa- 
beans, lost  sight  of  the  divine  principle  in  the  sym- 
bol, and  came  to  worship  light  or  fire,  as  the  real 
deity,  and  to  abhor  darkness  as  Satan  or  the  devil. 
In  their  fanatic  zeal  the  Magians  would  seize  upon 
tinbelievers  and  offer  them  up  in  the  flames  to 
propitiate  their  fiery  deity. 

To  the  tenets  of  these  two  sects  reference  is 
made  in  that  beautiful  text  of  the  wisdom  of  Solo- 
mon :  "  Surely  vain  are  all  men  by  nature  who 
are  ignorant  of  God,  and  could  not,  by  consider- 
ing the  work,  acknowledge  the  work  master  ;  but 
deemed  either  fire,  or  wind,  or  the  swift  air,  or 
the  circle  of  the  stars,  or  the  violent  water,  or  the 
lights  of  heaven,  to  be  gods,  which  govern  the 
world." 

Of  these  two  faiths  the  Sabean,  as  we  have  be- 
fore observed,  was  much  the  most  prevalent 
among  the  Arabs  ;  but  jin  an  extremely  degraded 


form,  mingled  with  all  kinds  of  abuses,  and  vary, 
ing  among  the  various  tribes.  The  Magian  faith 
prevailed  among  those  tribes  which,  from  their 
frontier  position,  had  frequent  intercourse  with 
Persia  ;  while  other  tribes  partook  of  the  super- 
stitions and  idolatries  of  the  nations  on  which 
they  bordered. 

Judaism  had  made  its  way  into  Arabia  at  an 
early  period,  but  very  vaguely  and  imperfectly. 
Still  many  of  its  rites  and  ceremonies,  and  fanciful 
traditions,  became  implanted  in  the  country.  At 
a  later  day,  however,  when  Palestine  was  ravaged 
by  the  Romans,  and  the  city  of  Jerusalem  taken 
and  sacked,  many  of  the  Jews  took  refuge  among 
the  Arabs  ;  became  incorporated  with  the  native 
tribes  ;  formed  themselves  into  communities  ; 
acquired  possession  of  fertile  tracts  ;  built  castles 
and  strongholds,  and  rose  to  considerable  power 
and  influence. 

The  Christian  religion  had  likewise  its  adher- 
ents among  the  Arabs.  St.  Paul  himself  declares, 
in  his  epistle  to  the  Galatians,  that  soon  after  he 
had  been  called  to  preach  Christianity  among  the 
heathens,  he  "  went  into  Arabia."  The  dissen- 
sions, also,  which  rose  in  the  Eastern  church,  in 
the  early  part  of  the  third  century,  breaking  it  up 
into  sects,  each  persecuting  the  others  as  it  gained 
the  ascendency,  drove  many  into  exile  into  remote 
parts  of  the  East  ;  filled  the  deserts  of  Arabia  with 
anchorites,  and  planted  the  Christian  faith  among 
some  of  the  principal  tribes. 

The  foregoing  circumstances,  physical  and 
moral,  may  give  an  idea  of  the  causes  which 
maintained  the  Arabs  for  ages  in  an  unchanged 
condition.  While  their  isolated  position  and  their 
vast  deserts  protected  them  from  conquest,  their 
internal  feuds  and  their  want  of  a  common  tie, 
political  or  religious,  kept  them  from  being  for- 
midable as  conquerors.  They  were  a  vast  aggre- 
gation of  distinct  parts  ;  full  of  individual  vigor, 
but  wanting  coherent  strength.  Although  their 
nomadic  lite  rendered  them  hardy  and  active  ; 
although  the  greater  part  of  them  were  warriors 
from  infancy,  yet  their  arms  were  only  wielded 
against  each  other,  excepting  some  of  the  frontier 
tribes,  which  occasionally  engaged  as  mercena- 
ries in  external  wars.  While,  therefore,  the  other 
nomadic  races  of  Central  Asia,  possessing  no 
greater  aptness  for  warfare,  had,  during  a  course 
of  ages,  successively  overrun  and  conquered  the 
civilized  world,  this  warrior  race,  unconscious  of 
its  power,  remained  disjointed  and  harmless  in 
the  depths  of  its  native  deserts. 

The  time  at  length  arrived  when  its  discordant 
tribes  were  to  be  united  in  one  creed,  and  ani- 
mated by  one  common  cause  ;  when  a  mighty 
genius  was  to  arise,  who  should  bring  together 
these  scattered  limbs,  animate  them  with  his  own 
enthusiastic  and  daring  spirit,  and  lead  them 
forth,  a  giant  of  the  desert,  to  shake  and  overturn 
the  empires  of  the  earth. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BIRTH  AND    PARENTAGE  OF    MAHOMET — HIS   IN- 
FANCY AND   CHILDHOOD. 

MAHOMET,  the  great  founder  of  the  faith  of  Is- 
lam, was  born  in  Mecca,  in  April,  in  the  year 
569  of  the  Christian  era.  He  was  of  the  valiant 
and  illustrious  tribe  of  Koreish,  of  which  there 
were  two  branches,  descended  from  two  brothers, 
Haschem  and  Abd  Schems.  Haschem,  the  pro- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


9 


genitor  of  Mahomet,  was  a  great  benefactor  of 
Mecca.  This  city  is  situated  in  the  midst  of  a 
barren  and  stony  country,  and  in  former  times 
was  often  subject  to  scarcity  of  provisions.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  sixth  century  Haschem  estab- 
lished two  yearly  caravans,  one  in  the  winter  to 
South  Arabia  or  Yemen  ;  the  other  in  the  sum- 
mer to  Syria.  By  these  means  abundant  supplies 
were  brought  to  Mecca,  as  well  as  a  great  variety 
of  merchandise.  The  city  became  a  commercial 
mart,  and  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  which  engaged 
largely  in  these  expeditions,  became  wealthy  and 
powerful.  Haschem,  at  this  time,  was  the  guar- 
dian of  the  Caaba,  the  great  shrine  of  Arabian 
pilgrimage  and  worship,  the  custody  of  which 
was  conrided  to  none  but  the  most  honorable 
tribes  and  families,  in  the  same  manner,  as  in  old 
times,  the  temple  of  Jerusalem  was  intrusted  only 
to  the  care  of  the  Levites.  In  fact  the  guardian- 
ship of  the  Caaba  was  connected  with  civil  digni- 
ties and  privileges,  and  gave  the  holder  of  it  the 
control  of  the  sacred  city. 

On  the  death  of  Haschem,  his  son,  Abd  al  Mo- 
talleb, succeeded  to  his  -honors,  and  inherited  his 
patriotism.  He  delivered  the  holy  city  from  an 
invading  army  of  troops  and  elephants,  sent  by 
the  Christian  princes  of  Abyssinia,  who  at  that 
time  held  Yemen  in  subjection.  These  signal  ser- 
vices rendered  by  father  and  son  confirmed  the 
guardianship  of  the  Caaba  in  the  line  of  Haschem, 
to  the  great  discontent  and  envy  of  the  line  of  Abd 
Schems. 

Abd  al  Motalleb  had  several  sons  and  daugh- 
ters. Those  of  his  sons  who  figure  in  history 
were,  Abu  Taleb,  Abu  Lahab,  Abbas,  Hamza, 
and  Abdallah.  The  last  named  was  the  youngest 
and  best  beloved.  He  married  Amina,  a  maiden 
of  a  distant  branch  of  the  same  illustrious  stock 
of  Koreish.  So  remarkable  was  Abdallah  for  per- 
sonal beauty  and  those  qualities  which  win  the 
affections  of  women,  that,  if  Moslem  traditions 
are  to  be  credited,  on  the  night  of  his  marriage 
with  Amina,  two  hundred  virgins  of  the  tribe  of 
Koreish  died  of  broken  hearts. 

Mahomet  was  the  first  and  only  fruit  of  the  mar- 
riage thus  sadly  celebrated.  His  birth,  according 
to  similar  traditions  with  the  one  just  cited,  was 
accompanied  by  signs  and  portents  announcing  a 
child  of  wonder.  His  mother  suffered  none  of  the 
pangs  of  travail.  At  the  moment  of  his  coming 
into  the  world,  a  celestial  light  illumined  the  sur- 
rounding country,  and  the  new-born  child,  raising 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  exclaimed  :  "  God  is  great  ! 
There  is  no  God  but  God,  and  I  am  his  prophet." 

Heaven  and  earth,  we  are  assured,  were  agi- 
tated at  his  advent.  The  Lake  Sawa  shrank  back 
to  its  secret  springs,  leaving  its  borders  dry  ; 
while  the  Tigris,  bursting  its  bounds,  overflowed 
the  neighboring  lands.  The  palace  of  Khosru  the 
King  of  Persia  shook  to  its  foundations,  and  sev- 
eral of  its  towers  were  toppled  to  the  earth.  In 
that  troubled  night  the  Kadhi,  or  Judge  of  Persia, 
beheld,  in  a  dream,  a  ferocious  camel  conquered 
by  an  Arabian  courser.  He  related  his  dream  in 
the  morning  to  the  Persian  monarch,  and  inter- 
preted it  to  portend  danger  from  the  quarter  of 
Arabia. 

In  the  same  eventful  night  the  sacred  fire  of  Zo- 
roaster, which,  guarded  by  the  Magi,  had  burned 
without  interruption  for  upward  of  a  thousand 
years,  was  suddenly  extinguished,  and  all  the 
idols  in  the  world  fell  down.  The  demons,  or 
evil  genii,  which  lurk  in  the  stars  and  the  signs  of 
the  zodiac,  and  exert  a  malignant  influence  over 
the  children  of  men,  were  cast  forth  by  the  pure 


angels,  and  hurled,  with  their  arch  leader,  Eblis, 
or  Lucifer,  into  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

The  relatives  of  the  new-born  child,  say  the  like 
authorities,  were  filled  with  awe  and  wonder. 
His  mother's  brother,  an  astrologer,  cast  his  na- 
tivity, and  predicted  that  he  would  rise  to  vast 
power,  found  an  empire,  and  establish  a  new  faith 
among  men.  His  grandfather,  Abd  al  Motalleb, 
gave  a  feast  to  the  principal  Koreishites,  the 
seventh  day  after  his  birth,  at  which  he  presented 
this  child,  as  the  dawning  glory  of  their  race,  and 
gave  him  the  name  of  Mahomet  (or  Muhamed), 
indicative  of  his  future  renown. 

Such  are  the  marvellous  accounts  given  by  Mos- 
lem writers  of  the  infancy  of  Mahomet,  and  we 
have  little  else  than  similar  fables  about  his  early 
years.  He  was  scarce  two  months  old  when  his 
father  died,  leaving  him  no  other  inheritance  than 
five  camels,  a  few  sheep,  and  a  female  slave  of 
Ethiopia,  named  Barakat.  His  mother,  Amina, 
had  hitherto  nurtured  him,  but  care  and  sorrow 
dried  the  fountains  of  her  breast,  and  the  air  of 
Mecca  being  unhealthy  for  children,  she  sought  a 
nurse  for  him  among  the  females  of  the  neighbor- 
ing Bedouin  tribes.  These  were  accustomed  to 
come  to  Mecca  twice  a  year,  in  spring  and  au- 
tumn, to  foster  the  children  of  its  inhabitants  ; 
but  they  looked  for  the  offspring  of  the  rich,  where 
they  were  sure  of  ample  recompense,  and  turned 
with  contempt  from  this  heir  of  poverty.  At 
length  Halema,  the  wife  of  a  Saadite  shepherd, 
was  moved  to  compassion,  and  took  the  helpless 
infant  to  her  home.  It  was  in  one  of  the  pastoral 
valleys  of  the  mountains.* 

Many  were  the  wonders  related  by  Halema  of 
her  intant  charge.  On  the  journey  from  Mecca, 
the  mule  which  bore  him  became  miraculously 
endowed  with  speech,  and  proclaimed  aloud  that 
he  bore  on  his  back  the  greatest  of  prophets,  the 
chief  of  ambassadors,  the  favorite  of  the  Almighty. 
The  sheep  bowed  to  him  as  he  passed  ;  as  he  lay 
in  his  cradle  and  gazed  at  the  moon  it  stooped  to 
him  in  reverence. 

The  blessing  of  heaven,  say  the  Arabian 
writers,  rewarded  the  charity  of  Halema.  While 
the  child  remained  under  her  roof,  everything 
around  her  prospered.  The  wells  and  springs 
were  never  dried  up  ;  the  pastures  were  always 
green  ;  her  flocks  and  herds  increased  tenfold  ;  a 
marvellous  abundance  reigned  over  her  fields, 
and  peace  prevailed  in  her  dwelling. 

The  Arabian  legends  go  on  to  extol  the  almost 
supernatural  powers,  bodily  and  mental,  mani- 
fested by  this  wonderful  child  at  a  very  early  age. 
He  could  stand  alone  when  three  months  old  ; 
run  abroad  when  he  was  seven,  and  at  ten  could 
join  other  children  in  their  sports  with  bows  and 
arrows.  At  eight  months  he  could  speak  so  as  to 
be  understood  ;  and  in  the  course  of  another 
month  could  converse  with  fluency,  displaying  a 
wisdom  astonishing  to  all  who  heard  him. 

At  the  age  of  three  years,  while  playing  in  the 
fields  with  his  foster-brother,  Masroud,  two  angels 
in  shining  apparel  appeared  before  them.  They 
laid  Mahomet  gently  upon  the  ground,  and 
Gabriel,  one  of  the  angels,  opened  his  breast, 
but  without  inflicting  any  pain.  Then  taking 
forth  his  heart,  he  cleansed  it  from  all  im- 


*  The  Beni  Sad  (or  children  of  Sad)  date  from  the 
most  remote  antiquity,  and,  with  the  Katan  Arabs, 
are  the  only  remnants  of  the  primitive  tribes  of 
Arabia.  Their  valley  is  among  the  mountains  which 
range  southwardly  from  the  "Tayei.—Burckhardt  on 
the  Bedouins,  vol.  ii.  p.  47. 


10 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


purity,  wringing  from  it  those  black  and  bitter 
drops  of  original  sin,  inherited  from  our  forefather 
Adam,  and  which  lurk  in  the  hearts  of  the  best  of 
his  descendants,  inciting  them  to  crime.  When 
he  had  thoroughly  purified  it,  he  filled  it  with  faith 
and  knowledge  and  prophetic  light,  and  replaced 
it  in  the  bosom  of  the  child.  Now,  we  are  assured 
by  the  same  authorities,  began  to  emanate  from 
his  countenance  that  mysterious  light  which  had 
continued  down  from  Adam,  through  the  sacred 
line  of  prophets,  until  the  time  of  Isaac  and  Ish- 
mael  ;  but  which  had  lain  dormant  in  the  descend- 
ants of  the  latter,  until  it  thus  shone  forth  with 
renewed  radiance  from  the  features  of  Mahomet. 

At  this  supernatural  visitation,  it  is  added,  was 
impressed  between  the  shoulders  of  the  child  the 
seal  of  prophecy,  which  continued  throughout  lite 
the  symbol  and  credential  of  his  divine  mission  ; 
though  unbelievers  saw  nothing  in  it  but  a  large 
mole,  the  size  of  a  pigeon's  egg. 

When  the  marvellous  visitation  of  the  angel  was 
related  to  Halema  and  her  husband,  they  were 
alarmed  lest  some  misfortune  should  be  impend- 
ing over  the  child,  or  that  his  supernatural  visitors 
might  be  of  the  race  of  evil  spirits  or  genii,  which 
haunt  the  solitudes  of  the  desert,  wreaking  mis- 
chief on  the  children  of  men.  His  Saadite  nurse, 
therefore,  carried  him  back  to  Mecca,  and  deliv- 
ered him  to  his  mother  Amina. 

He  remained  with  his  parent  until  his  sixth 
year,  when  she  took  him  with  her  to  Medina,  on  a 
visit  to  her  relatives  of  the  tribe  of  Adij,  but  on 
her  journey  homeward  she  died,  and  was  buried 
at  Abwa,  a  village  between  Medina  and  Mecca. 
Her  grave,  it  will  be  found,  was  a  place  of  pious 
resort  and  tender  recollection  to  her  son,  at  the 
latest  period  of  his  life. 

The  faithful  Abyssinian  slave,  Barakat,  now 
acted  as  a  mother  to  the  orphan  child,  and  con- 
ducted him  to  his  grandfather  Abd  al  Motalleb, 
in  whose  household  he  remained  for  two  years, 
treated  with  care  and  tenderness.  Abd  al  Motal- 
leb was  now  well  stricken  in  years  ;  having  out- 
lived the  ordinary  term  of  human  existence. 
Finding  his  end  approaching,  he  called  to  him  his 
eldest  son,  Abu  Taleb,  and  bequeathed  Mahomet 
to  his  especial  protection.  The  good  Abu  Taleb 
took  his  nephew  to  his  bosom,  and  ever  afterward 
was  to  him  as  a  parent.  As  the  former  succeeded 
to  the  guardianship  of  the  Caaba  at  the  death  of 
his  father,  Mahomet  continued  for  several  years 
in  a  kind  of  sacerdotal  household,  where  the  rites 
and  ceremonies  of  the  sacred  house  were  rigidly 
observed.  And  here  we  deem  it  necessary  to  give 
a  more  especial  notice  of  the  alleged  origin  of  the 
Caaba,  and  of  the  rites  and  traditions  and  super- 
stitions connected  with  it,  closely  interwoven  as 
they  are  with  the  faith  of  Islam  and  the  story  of 
its  founder. 


CHAPTER   III. 

TRADITIONS  CONCERNING  MECCA  AND  THE 
CAABA. 

WHEN  Adam  and  Eve  were  cast  forth  from 
Paradise,  say  Arabian  traditions,  they  fell  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  earth  ;  Adam  on  a  mountain  of 
the  island  of  Serendib,  or  Ceylon  ;  Eve  in  Arabia 
on  the  borders  of  the  Red  Sea,  where  the  port  of 
Joddah  is  now  situated.  For  two  hundred  years 
they  wandered  separate  and  lonely  about  the 
earth,  until,  in  consideration  of  their  penitence 
and  wretchedness,  they  were  permitted  to  come 


together  again  on  Mount  Arafat,  not  far  from  the 
present  city  of  Mecca.  In  the  depth  of  his  sorrow 
and  repentance,  Adam,  it  is  said,  raised  his  hands 
and  eyes  to  heaven,  and  implored  the  clemency  of 
God  ;  entreating  that  a  shrine  might  be  vouch- 
safed to  him  similar  to  that  at  which  he  had 
worshipped  when  in  Paradise,  and  round  which 
the  angels  used  to  move  in  adoring  processions. 

The  supplication  of  Adam  was  effectual.  A 
tabernacle  or  temple  formed  of  radiant  clouds  was 
lowered  down  by  the  hands  of  angels,  and  placed 
immediately  below  its  prototype  in  the  celestial 
paradise.  Toward  this  heaven-descended  shrine 
Adam  thenceforth  turned  when  in  prayer,  and 
round  it  he  daily  made  seven  circuits  in  imitation 
of  the  rites  of  the  adoring  angels. 

At  the  death  of  Adam,  say  the  same  traditions, 
the  tabernacle  of  clouds  passed  away,  or  was 
again  drawn  up  to  heaven  ;  but  another,  of  the 
same  form  and  in  the  same  place,  was  built  of 
stone  and  clay  by  Seth,  the  son  of  Adam.  This 
was  swept  away  by  the  deluge.  Many  genera- 
tions afterward,  in  the  time  of  the  patriarchs, 
when  Hagar  and  her  child  Ishmael  were  near 
perishing  with  thirst  in  the  desert,  an  angel  re- 
vealed to  them  a  spring  or  well  of  water,  near  to 
the  ancient  site  of  the  tabernacle.  This  was  the 
well  of  Zem  Zem,  held  sacred  by  the  progeny  of 
Ishmael  to  the  present  day.  Shortly  afterward 
two  individuals  of  the  gigantic  race  of  the  Ama- 
lekites,  in  quest  of  a  camel  which  had  strayed 
from  their  camp,  discovered  this  well,  and,  having 
slaked  their  thirst,  brought  their  companions  to 
the  place.  Here  they  founded  the  city  of  Mecca, 
taking  Ishmael  and  his  mother  under  their  protec- 
tion. They  were  soon  expelled  by  the  proper  in- 
habitants of  the  country,  among  whom  Ishmael 
remained.  When  grown  to  man's  estate,  he  mar- 
ried the  daughter  of  the  ruling  prince,  by  whom 
he  had  a  numerous  progeny,  the  ancestors  of  the 
Arabian  people.  In  process  of  time,  by  God's 
command  he  undertook  to  rebuild  the  Caaba,  on 
the  precise  site  of  the  original  tabernacle  of 
clouds.  In  this  pious  work  he  was  assisted  by 
his  father  Abraham.  A  miraculous  stone  served 
Abraham  as  a  scaffold,  rising  and  sinking  with 
him  as  he  built  the  walls  of  the  sacred  edifice.  It 
still  remains  there  an  inestimable  relic,  and  the 
print  of  the  patriarch's  foot  is  clearly  to  be  per- 
ceived on  it  by  all  true  believers. 

While  Abraham  and  Ishmael  were  thus  occu- 
pied, the  angel  Gabriel  brought  them  a  stone, 
about  which  traditional  accounts  are  a  little  at 
variance  ;  by  some  it  is  said  to  have  been,  one  of 
the  precious  stones  of  Paradise,  which  fell  to  the 
earth  with  Adam,  and  was  afterward  lost  in  the 
slime  of  the  deluge,  until  retrieved  by  the  angel 
Gabriel.  The  more  received  tradition  is,  that  it 
was  originally  the  guardian  angel  appointed  to 
watch  over  Adam  in  Paradise,  but  changed  into  a 
stone  and  ejected  thence  with  him  at  his  fall,  as  a 
punishment  for  not  having  been  more  vigilant. 
This  stone  Abraham  and  Ishmael  received  with 
proper  reverence,  and  inserted  it  in  a  corner  of  the 
exterior  wall  of  the  Caaba,  where  it  remains  to  the 
present  day,  devoutly  kissed  by  worshippers  each 
time  they  make  a  circuit  of  the  temple.  When 
first  inserted  in  the  wall  it  was,  we  are  told,  a  sin- 
gle jacinth  of  dazzling  whiteness,  but  became 
gradually  blackened  by  the  kisses  of  sinful  mor- 
tals. At  the  resurrection  it  will  recover  its  an- 
gelic form,  and  stand  forth  a  testimony  before  God 
in  favor  of  those  who  have  faithfully  performed 
the  rites  of  pilgrimage. 

Such  are  the  Arabian  traditions,  which  rendered 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


11 


the  Caaba  and  the  well  of  Zem  Zem  objects  of 
extraordinary  veneration  from  the  remotest  an- 
tiquity among-  th£  people  of  the  East,  and  espe- 
cially the  descendants  of  Ishmael.  Mecca,  which 
incloses  these  sacred  objects  within  its  walls,  was 
a  holy  city  many  ages  before  the  rise  of  Mahomet- 
anism,  and  was  the  resort  of  pilgrims  from  all  parts 
of  Arabia.  So  universal  and  profound  was  the 
religious  feeling  respecting  this  observance,  that 
four  months  in  every  year  were  devoted  to  the  rites 
of  pilgrimage,  and  held  sacred  from  all  violence 
and  warfare.  Hostile  tribes  then  laid  aside  their 
arms;  took  the  heads  from  their  spears  ;  traversed 
the  late  dangerous  deserts  in  security  ;  thronged 
the  gates  of  Mecca  clad  in  the  pilgrim's  garb  ; 
made  their  seven  circuits  round  the  Caaba  in  imi- 
tation of  the  angelic  host ;  touched  and  kissed  the 
mysterious  black  stone  ;  drank  and  made  ablu- 
tions at  the  well  Zem  Zem  in  memory  of  their  an- 
cestor Ishmael  ;  and  having  performed  all  the 
other  primitive  rites  of  pilgrimage  returned  home 
in  safety,  again  to  resume  their  weapons  and  their 
wars. 

Among  the  religious  observances  of  the  Arabs 
in  these  their  "  clays  of  ignorance  ;"  that  is  to 
say,  before  the  promulgation  of  the  Moslem  doc- 
trines, fasting  and  prayer  had  a  foremost  place. 
They  had  three  principal  fasts  within  the  year  ; 
one  of  seven,  one  of  nine,  and  one  of  thirty  days. 
They  prayed  three  times  each  day  ;  about  sunrise, 
at  noon,  and  about  sunset  ;  turning  their  faces  in 
the  direction  of  the  Caaba,  which  was  their  kebla, 
or  point  of  adoration.  They  had  many  religious 
traditions,  some  of  them  acquired  in  early  times 
from  the  Jews,  and  they  are  said  to  have  nurtured 
their  devotional  feelings  with  the  book  of  Psalms, 
and  with  a  book  said  to  be  bySeth,  and  filled  with 
moral  discourses. 

Brought  up,  as  Mahomet  was,  in  the  house  of 
the  guardian  of  the  Caaba,  the  ceremonies  and 
devotions  connected  with  the  sacred  edifice  may 
have  given  an  early  bias  to  his  mind,  and  inclined 
it  to  those  speculations  in  matters  of  religion  by 
which  it  eventually  became  engrossed.  Though 
his  Moslem  biographers  would  fain  persuade  us 
his  high  destiny  was  clearly  foretold  in  his  child- 
hood by  signs  and  prodigies,  yet  his  education 
appears  to  have  been  as  much  neglected  as  that 
of  ordinary  Arab  children  ;  for  we  find  that  he 
was  not  taught  either  to  read  or  write.  He  was 
a  thoughtful  child,  however  ;  quick  to  observe, 
prone  to  meditate  on  all  that  he  observed,  and 
possessed  of  an  imagination  fertile,  daring,  and 
expansive.  The  yearly  influx  of  pilgrims  from 
distant  parts  made  Mecca  a  receptacle  for  all 
kinds  of  floating  knowledge,  which  he  appears  to 
have  imbibed  with  eagerness  and  retained  in  a 
tenacious  memory  ;  and  as  he  increased  in  years, 
a  more  extended  sphere  of  observation  was  gradu- 
ally opened  to  him. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FIRST  JOURNEY   OF  MAHOMET  WITH    THE  CARA- 
VAN TO  SYRIA. 

MAHOMET  was  now  twelve  years  of  age,  but,  as 
we  have  shown,  he  had  an  intelligence  far  beyond 
his  years.  The  spirit  of  inquiry  was  awake  within 
him,  quickened  by  intercourse  with  pilgrims  from 
all  parts  of  Arabia.  His  uncle  Abu  Taleb,  too, 
besides  his  sacerdotal  character  as  guardian  of  the 
Caaba,  was  one  of  the  most  enterprising  mer- 
chants of  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  and  had  much  to 


do  with  those  caravans  set  on  foot  by  his  ancestor 
Haschem,  which  traded  to  Syria  and  Yemen. 
The  arrival  and  departure  of  those  caravans, 
which  thronged  the  gates  of  Mecca  and  filled  its 
streets  with  pleasing  tumult,  were  exciting  events 
to  a  youth  like  Mahomet,  and  carried  his  imagi- 
nation to  foreign  parts.  He  could  no  longer  re- 
press the  ardent  curiosity  thus  aroused  ;  but  once, 
when  his  uncle  was  about  to  mount  his  camel  to 
depart  with  the  caravan  for  Syria,  clung  to  him, 
and  entreated  to  be  permitted  to  accompany  him  : 
"  For  who,  oh  my  uncle,"  said  he,  "  will  take 
care  of  me  when  thou  art  away  ?" 

The  appeal  was  not  lost  upon  the  kind-hearted 
Abu  Taleb.  He  bethought  him,  too,  that  the 
youth  was  of  an  age  to  enter  upon  the  active 
scenes  of  Arab  life,  and  of  a  capacity  to  render 
essential  service  in  the  duties  of  the  caravan  ;  he 
readily,  therefore,  granted  his  prayer,  and  took 
him  with  him  on  the  journey  to  Syria. 

The  route  lay  through  regions  fertile  in  fables 
and  traditions,  which  it  is  the  delight  ol  the  Arabs 
to  recount  in  the  evening  halts  of  the  caravan. 
The  vast  solitudes  of  the  desert,  in  \\hich  that 
wandering  people  pass  so  much  of  their  lives,  are 
prone  to  engender  superstitious  fancies  ;  they 
have  accordingly  peopled  them  with  good  and  evil 
genii,  and  clothed  them  with  tales  of  enchantment, 
mingled  up  with  wonderful  events  which  hap- 
pened in  clays  of  old.  In  these  evening  halts  of 
the  caravan,  the  youthful  mind  of  Mahomet  doubt- 
less imbibed  many  of  those  superstitions  of  the 
desert  which  ever  afterward  dwelt  in  his  memory, 
and  had  a  powerful  influence  over  his  imagina- 
tion. We  may  especially  note  two  traditions 
which  he  must  have  heard  at  this  time,  and  which 
we  find  recorded  by  him  in  after  years  in  the 
Koran.  One  related  to  the  mountainous  district 
of  Hecljar.  Here,  as  the  caravan  wound  its  way 
through  silent  and  deserted  valleys,  caves  were 
pointed  out  in  the  sides  of  the  mountains  once  in- 
habited by  the  Beni  Thamud,  or  children  of 
Thamud,  one  of  the  "  lost  tribes"  of  Arabia  ;  and 
this  was  the  tradition  concerning  them. 

They  were  a  proud  and  gigantic  race,  existing 
before  the  time  of  the  patriarch  Abraham.  Hav- 
ing fallen  into  blind  idolatry,  God  sent  a  prophet 
of  the  name  of  Saleh,  to  restore  them  to  the  right 
way.  They  refused,  however,  to  listen  to  him 
unless  he  should  prove  the  divinity  of  his 
mission  by  causing  a  camel,  big  with  yuung, 
to  issue  from  the  entrails  of  a  mountain. 
Saleh  accordingly  prayed,  and  lo  !  a  rock 
opened,  and  a  female  camel  came  forth,  which 
soon  produced  a  foal.  Some  of  the  Thamud- 
ites  were  convinced  by  the  miracle,  and  were 
converted  by  the  prophet  from  their  idolatry  ; 
the  greater  part,  however,  remained  in  unbe- 
lief. Saleh  left  the  camel  among  them  as  a  sign, 
warning  them  that  a  judgment  from  heaven  would 
fall  on  them,  should  they  do  her  any  harm.  For 
a  time  the  camel  was  suffered  to  feed  quietly  in 
their  pastures,  going  forth  in  the  morning  and  re- 
turning in  the  evening.  It  is  true,  that  when  she 
bowed  her  head  to  drink  from  a  brook  or  well, 
she  never  raised  it  until  she  had  drained  the  last 
drop  of  water  ;  but  then  in  return  she  yielded 
milk  enough  to  supply  the  whole  tribe.  As,  how- 
ever, she  frightened  the  other  camels  from  the 
pasture,  she  became  an  object  of  offence  to  the 
Thamudites,  who  hamstrung  and  slew  her.  Upon 
this  there  was  a  fearful  cry  from  heaven,  and  great 
claps  of  thunder,  and  in  the  morning  all  the 
offenders  were  found  lying  on  their  faces,  dead. 
Thus  the  whole  race  was  swept  from  the  earth, 


12 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


and  their  country  was  laid  forever  afterward  un- 
der the  ban  of  heaven. 

This  story  made  a  powerful  impression  on  the 
mind  of  Mahomet,  insomuch  that  in  after  years 
he  refused  to  let  his  people  encamp  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, but  hurried  them  away  from  it  as  an  ac- 
cursed region. 

Another  tradition,  gathered  on  this  journey, 
related  to  the  city  of  Eyla,  situated  near  the  Red 
Sea.  This  place,  he  was  told,  had  been  inhabited 
in  old  times  by  a  tribe  of  Jews,  who  lapsed  into 
idolatry  and  profaned  the  Sabbath,  by  fishing  on 
that  sacred  day  ;  whereupon  the  old  men  were 
transformed  into  swine,  and  the  young  men  into 
monkeys. 

We  have  noted  these  two  traditions  especially 
because  they  are  both  cited  by  Mahomet  as  in- 
stances of  divine  judgment  on  the  crime  of  idola- 
try, and  evince  the  bias  his  youthful  mind  was 
already  taking  on  that  important  subject. 

Moslem  writers  tell  us,  as  usual,  of  wonderful 
circumstances  which  attended  the  youth  through- 
out this  journey,  giving  evidence  of  the  continual 
guardianship  of  heaven.  At  one  time,  as  he  trav- 
ersed the  burning  sands  of  the  desert,  an  angel 
hovered  over  him  unseen,  sheltering  him  with  his 
wings  ;  a  miracle,  however,  which  evidently  does 
not  rest  on  the  evidence  of  an  eye-witness  ;  at 
another  time  he  was  protected  by  a  cloud  which 
hung  over  his  head  during  the  noontide  heat ;  and 
on  another  occasion,  as  he  sought  the  scanty 
shade  of  a  withered  tree,  it  suddenly  put  forth 
leaves  and  blossoms. 

After  skirting  the  ancient  domains  of  the  Moab- 
ites  and  the  Ammonites,  often  mentioned  in  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  the  caravan  arrived  at  Bosra, 
or  Bostra,  on  the  confines  of  Syria,  in  the  country 
of  the  tribe  of  Manasseh,  beyond  the  Jordan.  In 
Scripture  days  it  had  been  a  city  of  the  Levites, 
but  now  was  inhabited  by  Nestorian  Christians. 
It  was  a  great  mart,  annually  visited  by  the  cara- 
vans ;  and  here  our  wayfarers  came  to  a  halt,  and 
encamped  near  a  convent  of  Nestorian  monks. 

By  this  fraternity  Abu  Taleb  and  his  nephew 
were  entertained  with  great  hospitality.  One  of 
the  monks,  by  some  called  Sergius,  by  other 
Bahira,*  on  conversing  with  Mahomet,  was  sur- 
prised at  the  precocity  of  his  intellect,  and  inter- 
ested by  his  eager  desire  for  information,  which 
appears  to  have  had  reference,  principally,  to  mat- 
ters of  religion.  They  had  frequent  conversations 
together  on  such  subjects,  in  the  course  of  which 
the  efforts  of  the  monk  must  have  been  mainly 
directed  against  that  idolatry  in  which  the  youth- 
ful Mahomet  had  hitherto  been  educated  ;  for  the 
Nestorian  Christians  were  strenuous  in  condemn- 
ing not  merely  the  worship  of  images,  but  even 
the  casual  exhibition  of  them  ;  indeed,  so  far  did 
they  carry  their  scruples  on  this  point,  that  even 
the  cross,  that  general  emblem  of  Christianity, 
was  in  a  great  degree  included  in  this  prohibition. 

Many  have  ascribed  that  knowledge  of  the  prin- 
ciples and  traditions  of  the  Christian  faith  dis- 
played by  Mahomet  in  after  life,  to  those  early 
conversations  with  this  monk  ;  it  is  probable, 
however,  that  he  had  further  intercourse  with  the 
latter  in  the  course  of  subsequent  visits  which  he 
made  to  Syria. 

Moslem  writers  pretend  that  the  interest  taken 
by  the  monk  in  the  youthful  stranger  arose  from 
his  having  accidentally  perceived  between  his 
shoulders  the  seal  of  prophecy.  He  warned  Abu 

*  Some  assert  that  these  two  names  indicate  two 
monks,  who  held  conversations  with  Mahomet. 


Taleb,  say  they,  when  about  1o  set  out  on  his  re- 
turn to  Mecca,  to  take  care  that  his  nephew  did 
not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Jews  ;  foreseeing 
with  the  eye  of  prophecy  the  trouble  and  opposi- 
tion he  was  to  encounter  from  that  people. 

It  required  no  miraculous  sign,  however,  to  in- 
terest a  sectarian  monk,  anxious  to  make  prose- 
lytes, in  an  intelligent  and  inquiring  youth,  nephew 
of  the  guardian  of  the  Caaba,  who  might  carry 
back  with  him  to  Mecca  the  seeds  of  Christianity 
sown  in  his  tender  mind  ;  and  it  was  natural  that 
the  monk  should  be  eager  to  prevent  his  hoped- 
for  convert,  in  the  present  unsettled  state  of  his 
religious  opinions,  from  being  beguiled  into  the 
Jewish  faith. 

Mahomet  returned  to  Mecca,  his  imagination 
teeming  with  the  wild  tales  and  traditions  picked 
up  in  the  desert,  and  his  mind  deeply  impressed 
with  the  doctrines  imparted  to  him  in  the  Nesto- 
rian convent.  He  seems  ever  afterward  to  have 
entertained  a  mysterious  reverence  for  Syria, 
probably  from  the  religious  impressions  received 
there.  It  was  the  land  whither  Abraham  the 
patriarch  had  repaired  from  Chaldea,  taking  with 
him  the  primitive  worship  of  the  one  true  God. 
"  Verily,"  he  used  to  say  in  afteryears,  "  God  has 
ever  maintained  guardians  of  his  word  in  Syria  ; 
forty  in  number  ;  when  one  dies  another  is  sent 
in  his  room  ;  and  through  them  the  land  is 
blessed."  And  again  :  "  Joy  be  to  the  people  of 
Syria,  for  the  angels  of  the  kind  God  spread  their 
wings  over  them."  * 

NOTE. — The  conversion  of  Abraham  from  the  idol- 
atry into  which  the  world  had  fallen  after  the  deluge 
is  related  in  the  sixth  chapter  of  the  Koran.  Abra- 
ham's father,  Azer,  or  Zerah,  as  his  name  is  given  in 
the  Scriptures,  was  a  statuary  and  an  idolater. 

''  And  Abraham  said  unto  his  father  Azer,  '  Why 
dost  thou  take  graven  images  for  gods  ?  Verily,  thou 
and  thy  people  are  in  error.' 

"  Then  was  the  firmament  of  heaven  displayed  unto 
Abraham,  that  he  might  see  how  the  world  was  gov- 
erned. 

"  When  night  came,  and  darkness  overshadowed 
the  earth,  he  beheld  a  bright  star  shining  in  the  firma- 
ment, and  cried  out  to  his  people  who  were  astrolo- 
gers, '  This,  according  to  your  assertions,  is  the  Lord.' 

"  But  the  star  set,  and  Abraham  said,  '  I  have  no 
faith  in  gods  that  set.' 

"  He  beheld  the  moon  rising,  and  exclaimed,  '  As- 
suredly, this  is  the  Lord.'  But  the  moon  likewise  set, 
and  he  was  confounded,  and  prayed  unto  God,  say- 
ing, '  Direct  me,  lest  I  become  as  one  of  these  peo- 
ple, who  go  astray.' 

"  When  he  saw  the  sun  rising,  he  cried  out,  '  This 
is  the  most  glorious  of  all ;  this  of  a  certainty  is  the 
Lord."  But  the  sun  also  set.  Then  said  Abraham, 
'  I  believe  not,  oh  my  people,  in  those  things  which 
ye  call  gods.  Verily,  I  turn  my  face  unto  Him,  the 
Creator,  who  hath  formed  both  the  heavens  and  the 
earth.'  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

COMMERCIAL  OCCUPATIONS  OF  MAHOMET— HIS 
MARRIAGE  WITH    CADIJAH. 

MAHOMET  was  now  completely  launched  in  ac- 
tive life,  accompanying  his  uncles  in  various  ex- 
peditions. At  one  time,  when  about  sixteen 
years  of  age,  we  find  him  with  his  uncle  Zobier, 
journeying  with  the  caravan  to  Yemen  ;  at  another 
time  acting  as  armor-bearer  to  the  same  uncle, 
who  led  a  warlike  expedition  of  Koreishites  in  aid 


*  Mischat-ul-Masabih,  vol.  ii.  p.  812. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


13 


of  the  Kenanites  against  the  tribe  of  Hawazan. 
This  is  cited  as  Mahomet's  first  essay  in  arms, 
though  he  did  little  else  than  supply  his  uncle 
with  arrows  in  the  heat  of  the  action,  and  shield 
him  from  the  darts  of  the  enemy.  It  is  stigma- 
tized among  Arabian  writers  as  al  Fadjar,  or  the 
impious  war,  having  been  carried  on  during  the 
sacred  months  of  pilgrimage. 

As  Mahomet  advanced  in  years  he  was  em- 
ployed by  different  persons  as  commercial  agent 
or  factor  in  caravan  journeys  to  Syria,  Yemen, 
and  elsewhere  ;  all  which  tended  to  enlarge  the 
sphere  of  his  observation,  and  to  give  him  a  quick 
insight  into  character  and  a  knowledge  of  human 
affairs. 

He  was  a  frequent  attender  of  fairs  also,  which, 
in  Arabia,  were  not  always  mere  resorts  of  traffic, 
but  occasionally  scenes  of  poetical  contests  be- 
tween different  tribes,  where  prizes  were  adjudged 
to  the  victors,  and  their  prize  poems  treasured  up 
in  the  archives  of  princes.  Such,  especially,  was 
the  case  with  the  fair  of  Ocadh  ;  and  seven  of  the 
prize  poems  adjudged  there  were  hung  up  as 
trophies  in  the  Caaba.  At  these  fairs,  also,  were 
recited  the  popular  traditions  of  the  Arabs,  and 
inculcated  the  various  religious  faiths  which  were 
afloat  in  Arabia.  From  oral  sources  of  this  kind 
Mahomet  gradually  accumulated  much  of  that 
varied  information  as  to  creeds  and  doctrines 
which  he  afterward  displayed. 

There  was  at  this  time  residing  in  Mecca  a 
widow,  named  Cadijah  (or  Khadijah),  of  the  tribe 
of  Koreish.  She  had  been  twice  married.  Her 
last  husband,  a  wealthy  merchant,  had  recently 
died,  and  the  extensive  concerns  of  the  house  were 
in  need  of  a  conductor.  A  nephew  of  the  widow, 
named  Chuzima,  had  become  acquainted  with 
Mahomet  in  the  course  of  his  commercial  expedi- 
tions, and  had  noticed  the  ability  and  integrity 
with  which  he  acquitted  himself  on  all  occasions. 
He  pointed  him  out  to  his  aunt  as  a  person  well 
qualified  to  be  her  factor.  The  personal  appear- 
ance of  Mahomet  may  have  strongly  seconded  this 
recommendation  ;  for  he  was  now  about  twenty- 
five  years  of  age,  and  extolled  by  Arabian  writers 
for  his  manly  beauty  and  engaging  manners.  So 
desirous  was  Cadijah  of  securing  his  services, 
that  she  offered  him  double  wages  to  conduct  a 
caravan  which  she  was  on  the  point  of  sending  off 
to  Syria.  Mahomet  consulted  his  uncle  Abu 
Taleb,  and  by  his  advice  accepted  the  offer.  He 
was  accompanied  and  aided  in  the  expedition  by 
the  nephew  of  the  widow,  and  by  her  slave  Mai- 
sara,  and  so  highly  satisfied  was  Cadijah  with  the 
way  in  which  he  discharged  his  duties,  that,  on 
his  return,  she  paid  him  double  the  amount  of  his 
stipulated  wages.  She  afterward  sent  him  to  the 
southern  parts  of  Arabia  on  similar  expeditions, 
in  all  which  he  gave  like  satisfaction. 

Cadijah  was  now  in  her  fortieth  year,  a  woman 
of  judgment  and  experience.  The  mental  quali- 
ties of  Mahomet  rose  more  and  more  in  her  esti- 
mation, and  her  heart  began  to  yearn  toward  the 
fresh  and  comely  youth.  According  to  Arabian 
legends,  a  miracle  occurred  most  opportunely  to 
confirm  and  sanctify  the  bias  of  her  inclinations. 
She  was  one  day  with  her  handmaids,  at  the  hour 
of  noon,  on  the  terraced  roof  of  her  dwelling, 
watching  the  arrival  of  a  caravan  conducted  by 
Mahomet.  As  it  approached,  she  beheld,  with 
astonishment,  two  angels  overshadowing  him  with 
their  wings  to  protect  him  from  the  sun.  Turn- 
ing, with  emotion,  to  her  handmaids,  "  Behold  !" 
said  she,  "  the  beloved  of  Allah,  who  sends  two 
angels  to  watch  over  him  !" 


Whether  or  not  the  handmaidens  looked  forth 
with  the  same  eyes  of  devotion  as  their  mistress, 
and  likewise  discerned  the  angels,  the  legend  does 
not  mention.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the  widow  was 
filled  with  a  lively  faith  in  the  superhuman  merits 
of  her  youthful  steward,  and  forthwith  commis- 
sioned her  trusty  slave,  Mai'sara,  to  offer  him  her 
hand.  The  negotiation  is  recorded  with  simple 
brevity.  "  Mahomet,"  demanded  Mai'sara,  "why 
dost  thou  not  marry  ?"  "I  have  not  the  means," 
replied  Mahomet.  "  Well,  but  if  a  wealthy  dame 
should  offer  thee  her  hand  ;  one  also  who  is  hand- 
some and  of  high  birth  ?"  "  And  who  is  she  ?" 
"Cadijah!"  "How  is  that  possible?"  "Let 
me  manage  it."  Mai'sara  returned  to  his  mistress 
and  reported  what  had  passed.  An  hour  was  ap- 
pointed for  an  interview,  and  the  affair  was 
brought  to  a  satisfactory  arrangement  with  that 
promptness  and  sagacity  which  had  distinguished 
Mahomet  in  all  his  dealings  with  the  widow.  The 
father  of  Cadijah  made  some  opposition  to  the 
match,  on  account  of  the  poverty  of  Mahomet,  fol- 
lowing the  common  notion  that  wealth  should  be 
added  to  wealth  ;  but  the  widow  wisely  consid- 
ered her  riches  only  as  the  means  of  enabling  her 
to  follow  the  dictates  of  her  heart.  She  gave  a 
great  feast,  to  which  were  invited  her  father  and 
the  rest  of  her  relatives,  and  Mahomet's  uncles 
Abu  Taleb  and  Hamza,  together  with  several 
other  of  the  Koreishites.  At  this  banquet  wine 
was  served  in  abundance,  and  soon  diffused  good 
humor  round  the  board.  The  objections  to  Ma- 
homet's poverty  were  forgotten  ;  speeches  were 
made  by  Abu  Taleb  on  the  one  side,  and  by  VVara- 
ka,  a  kinsman  of  Cadijah,  on  the  other,  in  praise 
of  the  proposed  nuptials  ;  the  dowry  was  arranged, 
and  the  marriage  formally  concluded. 

Mahomet  then  caused  a  camel  to  be  killed  be- 
fore his  door,  and  the  flesh  distributed  among  the 
poor.  The  house  was  thrown  open  to  all  comers  ; 
the  female  slaves  of  Cadijah  danced  to  the  sound 
of  timbrels,  and  all  was  revelry  and  rejoicing. 
Abu  Taleb,  forgetting  his  age  and  his  habitual 
melancholy,  made  merry  on  the  occasion.  He 
had  paid  down  from  his  purse  a  dower  of  twelve 
and  a  half  okks  of  gold,  equivalent  to  twenty 
young  camels.  Halema,  who  had  nursed  Mahom- 
et in  his  infancy,  was  summoned  to  rejoice  at 
his  nuptials,  and  was  presented  with  a  flock  of 
forty  sheep,  with  which  she  returned,  enriched 
and  contented,  to  her  native  valley,  in  the  desert 
of  the  Saadites. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CONDUCT  OF  MAHOMET  AFTER  HIS  MARRIAGE — 
BECOMES  ANXIOUS  FOR  RELIGIOUS  REFORM—- 
HIS HABITS  OF  SOLITARY  ABSTRACTION — THE 
VISION  OF  THE  CAVE — HIS  ANNUNCIATION  AS 
A  PROPHET. 

THE  marriage  with  Cadijah  placed  Mahomet 
among  the  most  wealthy  of  his  native  city.  His 
moral  worth  also  gave  him  great  influence  in  the 
community.  Allah,  says  the  historian  Abulfeda, 
had  endowed  him  with  every  gift  necessary  to  ac- 
complish and  adorn  an  honest  man  ;  he  was  so 
pure  and  sincere  ;  so  free  from  every  evil  thought, 
that  he  was  commonly  known  by  the  name  of  Al 
Amin,  or  The  Faithful. 

The  great  confidence  reposed  in  his  judgment 
and  probity  caused  him  to  be  frequently  referred 
to  as  arbiter  in  disputes  between  his  townsmen. 
An  anecdote  is  given  as  illustrative  of  his  sagacity 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


on  such  occasions.  The  Caaba  having-  been  in- 
jured by  fire,  was  undergoing  repairs,  in  the 
course  of  which  the  sacred  black  stone  was  to  be 
replaced.  A  dispute  arose  among  the  chiefs  of 
the  various  tribes,  as  to  which  was  entitled  to  per- 
form so  august  an  office,  and  they  agreed  to  abide 
by  the  decision  of  the  first  person  who  should  en- 
ter by  the  gate  al  Haram.  That  person  happened 
to  be  Mahomet.  Upon  hearing  their  different 
claims,  he  directed  that  a  great  cloth  should  be 
spread  upon  the  ground,  and  the  stone  laid 
thereon  ;  and  that  a  man  from  each  tribe  should 
take  hold  of  the  border  of  the  cloth.  In  this  way 
the  sacred  stone  was  raised  equally  and  at  the 
same  time  by  them  all  to  a  level  with  its  allotted 
place,  in  which  Mahomet  fixed  it  with  his  own 
hands. 

Four  daughters  and  one  son  were  the  fruit  of 
the  marriage  with  Cadijah.  The  son  was  named 
Kasim,  whence  Mahomet  was  occasionally  called 
Abu  Kasim,  or  the  father  of  Kasim,  according  to 
Arabian  nomenclature.  This  son,  however,  died 
in  his  infancy. 

For  several  years  after  his  marriage  he  con- 
tinued in  commerce,  visiting  the  great  Arabian 
fairs,  and  making  distant  journeys  with  the  cara- 
vans. His  expeditions  were  not  as  profitable  as 
in  the  days  of  his  stewardship,  and  the  wealth  ac- 
quired with  his  wife  diminished  rather  than  in- 
creased in  the  course  of  his  operations.  That 
wealth,  in  fact,  had  raised  him  above  the  neces- 
sity of  toiling  for  subsistence,  and  given  him 
leisure  to  indulge  the  original  bias  of  his  mind  ; 
a  turn  for  reverie  and  religious  speculation,  which 
he  had  evinced  from  his  earliest  years.  This  had 
been  fostered  in  the  course  of  his  journeyings,  by 
his  intercourse  with  Jews  and  Christians,  origi- 
nally fugitives  from  persecution,  but  now  gathered 
into  tribes,  or  forming  part  of  the  population  of 
cities.  The  Arabian  deserts,  too,  rife  as  we  have 
shown  them  with  fanciful  superstitions,  had  fur- 
nished aliment  for  his  enthusiastic  reveries. 
Since  his  marriage  with  Cadijah,  also,  he  had  a 
household  oracle  to  influence  him  in  his  religious 
opinions.  This  was  his  wife's  cousin  Waraka,  a 
man  of  speculative  mind  and  flexible  faith  ;  origi- 
nally a  Jew,  subsequently  a  Christian,  and  withal 
a  pretender  to  astrology.  He  is  worthy  of  note  as 
being  the  first  on  record  to  translate  parts  of  the 
Old  and  New  Testament  into  Arabic.  From  him 
Mahomet  is  supposed  to  have  derived  much  of 
his  information  respecting  those  writings,  and 
many  of  the  traditions  of  the  Mishnu  and  the  Tal- 
mud, on  which  he  draws  so  copiously  in  his 
Koran. 

The  knowledge  thus  variously  acquired  and 
treasured  up  in  an  uncommonly  retentive  memory, 
was  in  direct  hostility  to  the  gross  idolatry  preva- 
lent in  Arabia,  and  practised  at  the  Caaba.  That 
sacred  edifice  had  gradually  become  filled  and 
surrounded  by  idols,  to  the  number  of  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty,  being  one  for  every  day  of  the 
Arab  year.  Hither  had  been  brought  idols  from 
various  parts,  the  deities  of  other  nations,  the 
chief  of  which,  Hobal,  was  from  Syria,  and  sup- 
posed to  have  the  power  of  giving  rain.  Among 
these  idols,  too,  were  Abraham  and  Ishmael,  once 
revered  as  prophets  and  progenitors,  now  repre- 
sented wilh  divining  arrows  in  their  hands,  sym- 
bols of  magic. 

Mahomet  became  more  and  more  sensible  of 
the  grossness  and  absurdity  of  this  idolatry,  in 
proportion  as  his  intelligent  mind  contrasted  it 
with  the  spiritual  religions,  which  had  been  the 
subjects  of  his  inquiries.  Various  passages  in  the 


Koran  show  the  ruling  idea  which  gradually 
sprang  up  in  his  mind,  until  it  engrossed  his 
thoughts  and  influenced  all  his  actions.  That  idea 
was  a  religious  reform.  It  had  become  his  fixed 
belief,  deduced  from  all  that  .he  had  learned  and 
meditated,  that  the  only  true  religion  had  been  re- 
vealed to  Adam  at  his  creation,  and  been  promul- 
gated and  practised  in  the  clays  of  innocence,  t 
That  religion  inculcated  the  direct  and  spiritual 
worship  of  one  true  and  only  God,  the  creator  of 
the  universe. 

It  was  his  belief,  furthermore,  that  this  religion, 
so  elevated  and  simple,  had  repeatedly  been  cor- 
rupted and  debased  by  man,  and  especially  out- 
raged by  idolatry  ;  wherefore  a  succession  of 
prophets,  each  inspired  by  a  revelation  from  the 
Most  High,  had  been  sent  from  time  to  time,  and 
at  distant  periods,  to  restore  it  to  its  original 
purity.  Such  was  Noah,  such  was  Abraham, 
such  was  Moses,  and  such  was  Jesus  Christ.  By 
each  of  these  the  true  religion  had  been  reinstated 
upon  earth,  but  had  again  been  vitiated  by  their 
followers.  The  faith  as  taught  and  practised  by 
Abraham  when  he  came  out  of  the  land  of  Chal- 
dea  seems  especially  to  have  formed  a  religious 
standard  in  his  mind,  from  his  veneration  for  the 
patriarch  as  the  father  of  Ishmael,  the  progenitor 
of  his  race. 

It  appeared  to  Mahomet  that  the  time  for 
another  relorm  was  again  arrived.  The  world 
had  once  more  lapsed  into  blind  idolatry.  It 
needed  the  advent  of  another  prophet,  authorized 
by  a  mandate  Jrom  on  high,  to  restore  the  erring 
children  of  men  to  the  right  path,  and  to  bring 
back  the  worship  of  the  Caaba  to  what  it  had  been 
in  the  days  of  Abraham  and  the  patriarchs.  The 
probability  of  such  an  advent,  with  its  attendant 
reforms,  seems  to  have  taken  possession  of  his 
mind,  and  produced  habits  of  reverie  and  medita- 
tion, incompatible  with  the  ordinary  concerns  of 
life  and  the  bustle  of  the  world.  We  are  told 
that  he  gradually  absented  himself  from  society, 
and  sought  the  solitude  of  a  cavern  on  Mount 
Hara,  about  three  leagues  north  of  Mecca,  where, 
in  emulation  of  the  Christian  anchorites  of  the 
desert,  he  would  remain  days  and  nights  together, 
engaged  in  prayer  and  meditation.  In  this  way 
he  always  passed  the  month  of  Ramadhan,  the 
holy  month  of  the  Arabs.  Such  intense  occupa- 
tion of  the  mind  on  one  subject,  accompanied  by 
fervent  enthusiasm  of  spirit,  could  not  but  have  a 
powerful  effect  upon  his  frame.  He  became  sub- 
ject to  dreams,  to  ecstasies  and  trances.  For  six 
months  successively,  according  to  one  of  his  his- 
torians, he  had  constant  dreams  bearing  on  the 
subject  of  his  waking  thoughts.  Ofter  he  would 
lose  all  consciousness  of  surrounding  objects,  and 
lie  upon  the  ground  as  if  insensible.  Cadijah, 
who  was  sometimes  the  faithful  companion  of  his 
solitude,  beheld  these  paroxysms  with  anxious 
solicitude,  and  entreated  to  know  the  cause  ;  but 
he  evaded  her  inquiries,  or  answered  them  mys- 
teriously. Some  of  his  adversaries  have  attributed 
them  to  epilepsy,  but  devout  Moslems  declare 
them  to  have  been  the  workings  of  prophecy  ;  for 
already,  say  they,  the  intimations  of  the  Most  High 
began  to  dawn,  though  vaguely,  on  his  spirit  ; 
and  his  mind  labored  with  conceptions  too  great 
for  mortal  thought.  At  length,  say  they,  what 
had  hitherto  been  shadowed  out  in  dreams,  was 
made  apparent  and  distinct  by  an  angelic  appari- 
tion and  a  divine  annunciation. 

It  was  in  the  fortieth  year  of  his  age  when  this 
famous  revelation  took  place.  Accounts  are 
given  of  it  by  Moslem  writers  as  if  received  from 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


15 


his  own  lips,  and  it  is  alluded  to  in  certain  pas- 
sages of  the  Koran.  He  was  passing,  as  was  his 
wont,  the  month  of  Ramadhan  in  the  cavern  of 
Mount  Hara,  endeavoring  by  fasting,  prayer,  and 
solitary  meditation,  to  elevate  his  thoughts  to  the 
contemplation  of  divine  truth.  It  was  on  the 
night  called  by  Arabs  Al  Kader,  or  the  Divine 
Decree  ;  a  night  in  which,  according  to  the  Koran, 
angels  descend  to  earth,  and  Gabriel  brings  down 
the  decrees  of  God.  During  that  night  there  is 
peace  on  earth,  and  a  holy  quiet  reigns  over  all 
nature  until  the  rising  of  the  morn. 

As  Mahomet,  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night, 
lay  wrapped  in  his  mantle,  he  heard  a  voice  call- 
ing upon  him  ;  uncovering  his  head,  a  flood  of 
light  broke  upon  him  of  such  intolerable  splendor 
that  he  swooned  away.  On  regaining  his  senses, 
he  beheld  an  angel  in  a  human  form,  which,  ap- 
proaching from  a  distance,  displayed  a  silken  cloth 
covered  with  written  characters.  "  Read  !"  said 
the  angel. 

"  I  know  not  how  to  read  !"  replied  Mahomet. 

"  Read  !"  repeated  the  angel,  "  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord,  who  has  created  all  things  ;  who  created 
man  Irom  a  clot  of  blood.  Read  in  the  name  of 
the  Most  High,  who  taught  man  the  use  of  the 
pen  ;  who  sheds  on  his  soul  the  ray  of  knowledge, 
and  teaches  him  what  before  he  knew  not." 

Upon  this  Mahomet  instantly  felt  his  under- 
standing illumined  with  celestial  light,  and  read 
what  was  written  on  the  cloth,  which  contained 
the  decrees  of  God,  as  afterward  promulgated  in 
the  Koran.  When  he  had  finished  the  perusal, 
the  heavenly  messenger  announced,  "  Oh,  Mahom- 
et, of  a  verity,  thou  art  the  prophet  of  God  !  and 
I  am  his  angel  Gabriel." 

Mahomet,  we  are  told,  came  trembling  and 
agitated  to  Cadijah  in  the  morning,  not  knowing 
whether  what  he  had  heard  and  seen  was  indeed 
true,  and  that  he  was  a  prophet  decreed  to  effect 
that  reform  so  long  the  object  of  his  meditations  ; 
or  whether  it  might  not  be  a  mere  vision,  a  delu- 
sion of  the  senses,  or,  worse  than  all,  the  appari- 
tion of  an  evil  spirit. 

Cadijah,  however,  saw  everything  with  the  eye 
of  faith,  and  the  credulity  of  an  affectionate  wom- 
an. She  saw  in  it  the  fruition  of  her  husband's 
wishes,  and  the  end  of  his  paroxysms  and  priva- 
tions. "Joyful  tidings  dost  thou  bring!"  ex- 
claimed she.  "  By  him,  in  whose  hand  is  the  soul 
of  Cadijah,  I  will  hencelorth  regard  thee  as  the 
prophet  of  our  nation.  Rejoice,"  added  she,  see- 
ing him  still  cast  down  ;  "  Allah  will  not  suffer 
thee  to  fall  to  shame.  Hast  thou  not  been  loving 
to  thy  kinsfolk,  kind  to  thy  neighbors,  charitable 
to  the  poor,  hospitable  to  the  stranger,  faithful  to 
thy  word,  and  ever  a  defender  of  the  truth  ?" 

Cadijah  hastened  to  communicate  what  she  had 
heard  to  her  cousin  Waraka,  the  translator  of  the 
Scriptures  ;  who,  as  we  have  shown,  had  been  a 
household  oracle  of  Mahomet  in  matters  of  relig- 
ion. He  caught  at  once,  and  with  eagerness,  at 
this  miraculous  annunciation.  "  By  him  in  whose 
hand  is  the  soul  of  Waraka,"  exclaimed  he  ; 
"  thou  speakest  true,  oh  Cadijah  !  The  angel  who 
has  appeared  to  thy  husband  is  the  same  who,  in 
days  of  old,  was  sent  to  Moses  the  son  of  Amram. 
His  annunciation  is  true.  Thy  husband  is  indeed 
a  prophet  !" 

The  zealous  concurrence  of  the  learned  Waraka 
is  said  to  have  had  a  powerful  effect  in  fortifying 
the  dubious  mind  of  Mahomet. 

NOTE. — Dr.  Gustav  Weil,  in  a  note  to  Mohammed 
d^r  Prophet,  discusses  the  question  of  Mahomet's  be- 
ing subject  to  attacks  of  epilepsy  ;  which  has  gener- 


ally been  represented  as  a  slander  of  his  enemies  and 
of  Christian  writers.  It  appears,  however,  to  have 
been  asserted  by  some  of  the  oldest  Moslem  biogra- 
phers, and  given  on  the  authority  of  persons  about 
him.  He  would  be  seized,  they  said,  with  violent 
trembling  followed  by  a  kind  of  swcon,  or  rather  con- 
vulsion, during  which  perspiration  would  stream  from 
his  forehead  in  the  coldest  weather  ;  he  would  lie  with 
his  eyes  closed,  foaming  at  the  mouth  and  bellowing 
like  a  young  camel.  Ayesha,  one  of  his  wives,  and 
Zeid,  one  of  his  disciples,  are  among  the  persons  cited 
as  testifying  to  that  effect.  They  considered  him  at 
such  times  as  under  the  influence  of  a  revelation.  He 
had  such  attacks,  however,  in  Mecca,  before  the 
Koran  was  revealed  to  him.  Cadijah  feared  that  he 
was  possessed  by  evil  spirits,  and  would  have  called 
in  the  aid  of  a  conjurer  to  exorcise  them,  but  he  for- 
bade her.  He  did  not  like  that  any  one  should  see 
him  during  these  paroxysms.  His  visions,  however, 
were  not  always  preceded  by  such  attacks.  Hareth 
Ibn  Haschem.  it  is  said,  once  asked  him  in  what  man- 
ner the  revelations  were  made.  "  Often,"  replied  he, 
"  the  angel  appears  to  me  in  a  human  form,  and 
speaks  to  me.  Sometimes  I  hear  sounds  like  the 
tinkling  of  a  bell,  but  see  nothing.  [A  ringing  in  the 
ears  is  a  symptom  of  epilepsy.]  When  the  invisible 
angel  has  departed,  I  am  possessed  of  what  he  has  re- 
vealed." Some  of  his  revelations  he  professed  to  re- 
ceive direct  from  God,  others  in  dreams,  for  the 
dreams  of  prophets,  he  used  to  say,  are  revelations. 

The  reader  will  find  this  note  of  service  in  throwing 
some  degree  of  light  upon  the  enigmatical  career  of 
this  extraordinary  man. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

MAHOMET  INCULCATES  HIS  DOCTRINES  SECRETLY 
AND  SLOWLY — RECEIVES  FURTHER  REVELA- 
TIONS AND  COMMANDS — ANNOUNCES  IT  TO 
HIS  KINDRED — MANNER  IN  WHICH  IT  WAS 
RECEIVED — ENTHUSIASTIC  DEVOTION  OF  ALI — 
CHRISTIAN  PORTENTS. 

FOR  a  time  Mahomet  confided  his  revelations 
merely  to  his  own  household.  One  of  the  first  to 
avow  himself  a  believer  was  his  servant  Zeid,  an 
Arab  of  the  tribe  of  Kalb.  This  youth  had  been 
captured  in  childhood  by  a  freebooting  party  of 
Koreishites,  and  had  come  by  purchase  or  lot 
into  the  possession  of  Mahomet.  Several  years 
afterward  his  father,  hearing  of  his  being  in 
Mecca,  repaired  thither  and  offered  a  considera- 
ble sum  for  his  ransom.  "  If  he  chooses  to  go 
with  thee,"  said  Mahomet,  "  he  shall  go  without 
ransom  ;  but  if  he  chooses  to  remain  with  me, 
why  should  I  not  keep  him  ?"  Zeid  preferred  to 
remain,  having  ever,  he  said,  been  treated  more 
as  a  .son  than  as  a  slave.  Upon  this,  Mahomet 
publicly  adopted  him,  and  he  had  ever  since  re- 
mained with  him  in  affectionate  servitude.  Now, 
on  embracing  the  new  faith,  he  was  set  entirely 
free,  but  it  will  be  found  that  he  continued  through 
life  that  devoted  attachment  which  Mahomet 
seems  to  have  had  the  gift  of  inspiring  in  his  fol- 
lowers and  dependents. 

The  early  steps  of  Mahomet  in  his  prophetic 
career  were  perilous  and  doubtful,  and  taken  in 
secrecy.  He  had  hostility  to  apprehend  on  every 
side  ;  from  his  immediate  kindred,  the  Koreishites 
of  the  line  of  Haschem,  whose  power  and  pros- 
perity were  identified  with  idolatry  ;  and  still  more 
from  the  rival  line  of  Abd  Schems,  who  had  long 
looked  with  envy  and  jealousy  on  the  Haschem- 
ites,  and  would  eagerly  raise  the  cry  of  heresy  and 
impiety  to  dispossess  them  of  the  guardianship  of 
the  Caaba.  At  the  head  of  this  rival  branch  of 
Koreish  was  Abu  Sofian,  the  son  of  Harb,  grand- 


16 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


son  of  Omeya,  and  great-grandson  of  Abd 
Schems.  He  was  an  able  and  ambitious  man,  of 
great  wealth  and  influence,  and  will  be  found  one 
of  the  most  persevering  and  powerful  opponents 
of  Mahomet.* 

Under  these  adverse  circumstances  the  new 
faith  was  propagated  secretly  and  slowly,  inso- 
much that  for  the  first  three  years  the  number  of 
converts  did  not  exceed  forty  ;  these,  too,  for  the 
most  part,  were  young  persons,  strangers,  and 
slaves.  Their  meetings  for  prayer  were  held  in 
private,  either  at  the  house  of  one  of  the  initiated, 
or  in  a  cave  near  Mecca.  Their  secrecy,  however, 
did  not  protect  them  from  outrage.  Their  meet- 
ings were  discovered  ;  a  rabble  broke  into  their 
cavern,  and  a  scuffle  ensued.  One  of  the  assail- 
ants was  wounded  in  the  head  by  Saad,  an 
armorer,  thenceforth  renowned  among  the  faith- 
ful as  the  first  of  their  number  who  shed  blood  in 
the  cause  of  Islam. 

One  of  the  bitterest  opponents  of  Mahomet  was 
his  uncle,  Abu  Lahab,  a  wealthy  man,  of  proud 
spirit  and  irritable  temper.  His  son  Otha  had 
married  Mahomet's  third  daughter,  Rokaia,  so 
that  they  were  doubly  allied.  Abu  Lahab,  how- 
ever, was  also  allied  to  the  rival  line  of  Koreish, 
having  married  Omm  Jemil;  sister  of  Abu  Sofian, 
and  he  was  greatly  under  the  control  of  his  wife 
and  his  brother-in-law.  He  reprobated  what  he 
termed  the  heresies  of  his  nephew,  as  calculated 
to  bring  disgrace  upon  their  immediate  line,  and 
to  draw  upon  it  the  hostilities  of  the  rest  of  the 
tribe  of  Koreish.  Mahomet  was  keenly  sensible 
of  the  rancorous  opposition  of  this  uncle,  which 
he  attributed  to  the  instigations  of  his  wife,  Omm 
Jemil.  He  especially  deplored  it,  as  he  saw  that 
it  affected  the  happiness  of  his  daughter  Rokaia, 
whose  inclination  to  his  doctrines  brought  on  her 
the  reproaches  of  her  husband  and  his  family. 

These  and  other  causes  of  solicitude  preyed 
upon  his  spirits,  and  increased  the  perturbation 
of  his  mind.  He  became  worn  and  haggard,  and 
subject  more  and  more  to  fits  of  abstraction. 
Those  of  his  relatives  who  were  attached  to  him 
noticed  his  altered  mien,  and  dreaded  an  attack 
of  illness  ;  others  scoffingly  accused  him  of  men- 
tal hallucination  ;  and  the  foremost  among  these 
scoffers  was  his  uncle's  wife,  Omm  Jemil,  the  sis- 
ter of  Abu  Sofian. 

The  result  of  this  disordered  state  of  mind  and 
body  was  another  vision,  or  revelation,  command- 
ing him  to  "  arise,  preach,  and  magnify  the  Lord." 
He  was  now  to  announce,  publicly  and  boldly, 
his  doctrines,  beginning  with  his  kindred  and 
tribe.  Accordingly,  in  the  fourth  year  of  what  is 
called  his  mission,  he  summoned  all  the  Koreish- 
ites  of  the  line  of  Haschem  to  meet  him  on  the 
hill  of  Safa,  in  the  vicinity  of  Mecca,  when  he 
would  unfold  matters  important  to  their  walfare. 
They  assembled  there,  accordingly,  and  among 
them  came  Mahomet's  hostile  uncle,  Abu  Lahab, 
and  with  him  his  scoffing  wife,  Omm  Jemil. 
Scarce  had  the  prophet  begun  to  discourse  of  his 
mission,  and  to  impart  his  revelations,  when  Abu 
Lahab  started  up  in  a  rage,  reviled  him  for  calling 


*  Niebuhr  (Travels,  vol.  ii.)  speaks  of  the  tribe  of 
Harb,  which  possessed  several  cities  and  a  number  of 
villages  in  the  highlands  of  Hedjas,  a  mountainous 
range  between  Mecca  and  Medina.  They  have  cas- 
tles on  precipitous  rocks,  and  harass  and  lay  under 
contribution  the  caravans.  It  is  presumed  that  this 
tribe  takes  its  name  from  the  father  of  Abu  Sofian, 
as  did  the  great  line  of  the  Omeyades  from  his  grand- 
father. 


them  together  on  so  idle  an  errand,  and  catching 
up  a  stone,  would  have  hurled  it  at  him.  Ma- 
homet turned  upon  him  a  withering  look,  cursed 
the  hand  thus  raised  in  menace,  and  predicted  his 
doom  to  the  fire  of  Jehennam  ;  with  the  assurance 
that  his  wife,  Omm  Jemil,  would  bear  the  bundle 
of  thorns  with  which  the  fire  would  be  kindled. 

The  assembly  broke  up  in  confusion.  Abu 
Lahab  and  his  wife,  exasperated  at  the  curse  dealt 
out  to  them,  compelled  their  son,  Otha,  to  repudi- 
ate his  wife,  Rokaia,  and  sent  her  back  weeping 
to  Mahomet.  She  was  soon  indemnified,  how- 
ever, by  having  a  husband  of  the  true  faith,  being 
eagerly  taken  to  wife  by  Mahomet's  zea'lous  disci- 
ple, Othman  Ibn  Affan. 

Nothing  discouraged  by  the  failure  of  his  first 
attempt,  Mahomet  called  a  second  meeting  of  the 
Haschemites  at  his  own  house,  where,  having  re- 
galed them  with  the  flesh  of  a  lamb,  and  given 
them  milk  to  drink,  he  stood  forth  and  announced, 
at  full  length,  his  revelations  received  from  heav- 
en, and  the  divine  command  to  impart  them  to 
those  of  his  immediate  line. 

"Oh,  children  of  Abd  al  Motalleb,"  cried  he, 
with  enthusiasm,  "  to  you,  of  all  men,  has  Allah 
vouchsafed  these  most  precious  gifts.  In  his 
name  I  offer  you  the  blessings  of  this  world,  and 
endless  joys  hereafter.  Who  among  you  will 
share  the  burden  of  my  offer.  Who  will  be  my 
brother  :  my  lieutenant,  my  vizier  ?" 

All  remained  silent  ;  some  wondering,  others 
smiling  with  incredulity  and  derision.  At  length 
Ali,  starting  up  with  youthful  zeal,  offered  himself 
to  the  service  of  the  prophet,  though  modestly  ac- 
knowledging his  youth  and  physical  weakness.* 
Mahomet  threw  his  arms  round  the  generous 
youth,  and  pressed  him  to  his  bosom.  "  Behold 
my  brother,  my  vizier,  my  vicegerent,"  exclaimed 
he  ;  "  let  all  listen  to  his  words,  and  obey  him." 

The  outbreak  of  such  a  stripling  as  Ali,  how- 
ever, was  answered  by  a  scornful  burst  of  laugh- 
ter of  the  Koreishites,  who  taunted  Abu  Taleb, 
the  father  of  the  youthful  proselyte,  with  having 
to  bow  down  before  his  son,  and  yield  him  obedi- 
ence. 

But  though  the  doctrines  of  Mahomet  were 
thus  ungraciously  received  by  his  kindred  and 
friends,  they  found  favor  among  the  people  at 
large,  especially  among  the  women,  who  are  ever 
prone  to  befriend  a  persecuted  cause.  Many  of 
the  Jews,  also,  followed  him  for  a  time,  but  when 
they  found  that  he  permitted  his  disciples  to  eat 
the  flesh  of  the  camel,  and  of  other  animals  for- 
bidden by  their  law,  they  drew  back  and  rejected 
his  religion  as  unclean. 

Mahomet  now  threw  off  all  reserve,  or  rather 
was  inspired  with  increasing  enthusiasm,  and 
went  about  openly  and  earnestly  proclaiming  his 
doctrines,  and  giving  himself  out  as  a  prophet, 
sent  by  God  to  put  an  end  to  idolatry,  and  to  miti- 
gate the  rigor  of  the  Jewish  and  the  Christian  law. 
The  hills  of  Safa  and  Kubeis,  sanctified  by  tradi- 
tions concerning  Hagar  and  Ishmael,  were  his 
favorite  places  of  preaching,  and  Mount  Hara  was 
his  Sinai,  whither  he  retired  occasionally,  in  fits 
of  excitement  and  enthusiasm,  to  return  from  its 
solitary  cave  with  fresh  revelations  of  the  Koran. 

The  good  old  Christian  writers,  on  treating  of 
the  advent  of  one  whom  they  denounce  as  the 
Arab  enemy  of  the  church,  make  supenstitious 
record  of  divers  prodigies  which  occurred  about 


*  By  an  error  of  translators,  AH  is  made  to  accom- 
pany his  offer  of  adhesion  by  an  extravagant  threat 
against  all  who  should  oppose  Mahomet. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


ir 


this  time,  awful  forerunners  of  the  troubles  about 
to  agitate  the  world.  In  Constantinople,  at  that 
time  the  seat  o£  Christian  empire,  were  several 
monstrous  births  and  prodigious  apparitions, 
which  struck  dismay  into  the  hearts  of  all  be- 
holders. In  certain  religious  processions  in  that 
neighborhood,  the  crosses  on  a  sudden  moved  of 
themselves,  and  were  violently  agitated,  causing 
astonishment  and  terror.  The  Nile,  too,  that  an- 
cient mother  of  wonders,  gave  birth  to  two  hide- 
ous forms,  seemingly  man  and  woman,  which 
rose  out  of  its  waters,  gazed  about  them  for  a  time 
with  terrific  aspect,  and  sank  again  beneath  the 
waves.  For  a  whole  day  the  sun  appeared  to  be 
diminished  to  one  third  of  its  usual  size,  shedding 
pale  and  baleful  rays.  During  a  moonless  night 
a  furnace  light  glowed  throughout  the  heavens, 
and  bloody  lances  glittered  in  the  sky. 

All  these,  and  sundry  other  like  marvels,  were 
interpreted  into  signs  of  coming  troubles.  The 
ancient  servants  of  God  shook  their  heads  mourn- 
fully, predicting  the  reign  of  antichrist  at  hand  ; 
with  vehement  persecution  of  the  Christian  faith, 
and  great  desolation  of  the  churches  ;  and  to  such 
holy  men  who  have  passed  through  the  trials  and 
troubles  of  the  faith,  adds  the  venerable  Padre 
Jayme  Bleda,  it  is  given  to  understand  and  explain 
these  mysterious  portents,  which  forerun  disasters 
of  the  church  ;  even  as  it  is  given  to  ancient 
mariners  to  read  in  the  signs  of  the  air,  the  heav- 
ens, and  the  deep  ,the  coming  tempest  which  is  to 
overwhelm  their  bark. 

Many  of  these  sainted  men  were  gathered  to 
glory  before  the  completion  of  their  prophecies. 
There,  seated  securely  in  the  empyreal  heavens, 
they  may  have  looked  down  with  compassion  upon 
the  troubles  of  the  Christian  world  ;  as  men  on  the 
serene  heights  of  mountains  look  down  upon  the 
tempests  which  sweep  the  earth  and  sea,  wrecking 
tall  ships,  and  rending  lofty  towers. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

OUTLINES   OF  THE    MAHOMETAN    FAITH. 

THOUGH  it  is  not  intended  in  this  place  to  go 
fully  into  the  doctrines  promulgated  by  Mahomet, 
yet  it  is  important  to  the  right  appreciation  of  his 
character  and  conduct,  and  of  the  events  and  cir- 
cumstances set  forlh  in  the  following  narrative,  to 
give  their  main  features. 

It  must  be  particularly  borne  in  mind  that  Ma- 
homet did  not  profess  to  set  up  a  new  religion  ; 
but  to  restore  that  derived,  in  the  earliest  times, 
from  God  himself.  "  We  follow,"  says  the 
Koran,  "  the  religion  of  Abraham  the  orthodox, 
who  was  no  idolater.  We  believe  in  God  and 
that  which  hath  been  sent  down  to  us,  and  that 
which  hath  been  sent  down  unto  Abraham  and  Ish- 
mael,  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  and  the  tribes,  and  that 
which  was  delivered  unto  Moses  and  Jesus,  and 
that  which  was  delivered  unto  the  prophets  from 
the  Lord  :  we  make  no  distinction  between  any  of 
them,  and  to  God  we  are  resigned."* 

The  Koran, f  which  was  the  great  book  of  his 
faith,  was  delivered  in  portions  from  time  to  time, 
according  to  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  or  the 
exigency  of  circumstances.  It  was  not  given  as  his 
own  work,  but  as  a  divine  revelation  ;  as  the  very 


*  Koran,  chap.  ii. 

t  Derived  from  the  Arabic  word  Kora,  to  read  or 
teach. 


words  of  God.  The  Deity  is  supposed  to  speak  in 
every  instance.  "  We  have  sent  thee  down  the 
book  of  truth,  confirming  the  scripture  which  was 
revealed  before  it,  and  preserving  the  same  in  its 
purity."* 

The  law  of  Moses,  it  was  said,  had  for  a  time 
been  the  guide  and  rule  of  human  conduct.  At 
the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ  it  was  superseded  by 
the  Gospel  ;  both  were  now  to  give  place  to  the 
Koran,  which  was  more  full  and  explicit  than  the 
preceding  codes,  and  intended  to  reform  the 
abuses  which  had  crept  into  them  through  the 
negligence  or  the  corruptions  of  their  professors. 
It  was  the  completion  of  the  law  ;  after  it  there 
would  be  no  more  divine  revelations.  Mahomet 
was  the  last,  as  he  was  the  greatest,  of  the  line  of 
prophets  sent  to  make  known  the  will  of  God. 

The  unity  of  God  was  the  corner-stone  of  this 
reformed  religion.  "  There  is  no  God  but  God," 
was  its  leading  dogma.  Hence  it  received  the 
name  of  the  religion  of  Islam, f  an  Arabian  word, 
implying  submission  to  God.  To  this  leading 
dogma  was  added,  "  Mahomet  is  the  prophet  of 
God  ;"  an  addition  authorized,  as  it  was  main- 
tained, by  the  divine  annunciation,  and  important 
to  procure  a  ready  acceptation  of  his  revelations. 

Besides  the  unity  of  God,  a  belief  was  inculcated 
in  his  angels  or  ministering  spirits  ;  in  his  proph- 
ets ;  in  the  resurrection  of  the  body  ;  in  the  last 
judgment  and  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments, and  in  predestination.  Much  of  the 
Koran  may  be  traced  to  the  Bible,  the  Mishnu, 
and  the  Talmud  of  the  Jews.J  especially  its  wild 
though  often  beautiful  traditions  concerning  the 
angels,  the  prophets,  the  patriarchs,  and  the  good 
and  evil  genii.  He  had  at  an  early  age  imbibed 
a  reverence  for  the  Jewish  faith,  his  mother,  it  is 
suggested,  having  been  of  that  religion. 

The  system  laid  down  in  the  Koran,  however, 
was  essentially  founded  on  the  Christian  doctrines 
inculcated  in  the  New  Testament  ;  as  they  had 
been  expounded  to  him  by  the  Christian  sectarians 
of  Arabia.  Our  Saviour  was  to  be  held  in  the 
highest  reverence  as  an  inspired  prophet,  the 


*  Koran,  ch.  v. 

f  Some  etymologists  derive  Islam  from  Salem  or 
Aslama,  which  signifies  salvation.  The  Christians 
form  from  it  the  term  Islamism,  and  the  Jews  have 
varied  it  into  Ismailism,  which  they  intend  as  a  re- 
proach, and  an  allusion  to  the  origin  of  the  Arabs  as 
descendants  of  Ishmael. 

From  Islam  the  Arabians  drew  the  terms  Moslem 
or  Muslem,  and  Musulman,  a  professor  of  the  faith 
of  Islam.  These  terms  are  in  the  singular  number 
and  make  Musliman  in  the  dual,  and  Muslimen  in  the 
plural.  The  French  and  some  other  nations  follow  the 
idioms  of  their  own  languages  in  adopting  or  trans- 
lating the  Arabic  terms,  and  form  the  plural  by  the 
addition  of  the  letter  s  ;  writing  Musulman  and  Mu- 
sulmans.  A  few  English  writers,  of  whom  Gibbon  is 
the  chief,  have  imitated  them,  imagining  that  they 
were  following  the  Arabian  usage.  Most  English 
authors,  however,  follow  the  idiom  of  their  own  lan- 
guage, writing  Moslem  and  Moslems,  Musulman  and 
Musulmen  ;  this  usage  is  also  the  more  harmonious. 

\  The  Alishnu  of  the  Jews,  like  the  Sonna  of  the 
Mahometans,  is  a  collection  of  traditions  forming  the 
Oral  law.  It  was  compiled  in  the  second  century  by 
Judah  Hakkodish,  a  learned  Jewish  Rabbi,  during  th« 
reign  of  Antoninus  Pius,  the  Roman  Emperor. 

The  Jerusalem  Talmud  and  the  Babylonish  Tal- 
mud are  both  commentaries  on  the  Mishnu.  The 
former  was  compiled  at  Jerusalem,  about  three  hun- 
dred years  after  Christ,  and  the  latter  in  Babylonia, 
about  two  centuries  later.  The  Mishnu  is  the  most 
ancient  record  possessed  by  the  Jews  except  the  Bible. 


18 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


greatest  that  had  been  sent  before  the  time  of  Ma- 
homet, to  reform  the  law  ;  but  all  idea  of  his 
divinity  was  rejected  as  impious,  and  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity  was  denounced  as  an  outrage  on 
the  unity  of  God.  Both  were  pronounced  errors 
and  interpolations  of  the  expounders  ;  and  this,  it 
will  be  observed,  was  the  opinion  of  some  of  the 
Arabian  sects  of  Christians. 

The  worship  of  saints  and  the  introduction  of 
images  and  paintings  representing  them,  were 
condemned  as  idolatrous  lapses  from  the  pure 
faith  of  Christ,  and  such,  we  have  already  ob- 
served, were  the  tenets  of  the  Nestorians,  with 
whom  Mahomet  is  known  to  have  had  much  com- 
munication. 

All  pictures  representing  living  things  were 
prohibited.  Mahomet  used  to  say  that  the  angels 
would  not  enter  a  house  in  which  there  were  such 
pictures,  and  that  those  who  made  them  would  be 
sentenced,  in  the  next  world,  to  find  souls  for 
them,  or  be  punished. 

Most  of  the  benignant  precepts  of  our  Saviour 
were  incorporated  in  the  Koran.  Frequent  alms- 
giving was  enjoined  as  an  imperative  duty,  and 
the  immutable  law  of  right  and  wrong,  "  Do  unto 
another  as  thou  wouldst  he  should  do  unto  thee," 
was  given  for  the  moral  conduct  of  the  faithful. 

"  Deal  not  unjustly  with  others,"  says  the 
Koran,  "  and  ye  shall  not  be  dealt  with  unjustly. 
If  there  be  any  debtor  under  a  difficulty  of  paying 
his  debt,  let  his  creditor  wait  until  it  be  easy  tor 
him  to  do  it ;  but  if  he  remit  it  in  alms,  it  will  be 
better  for  him." 

Mahomet  inculcated  a  noble  fairness  and  sin- 
cerity in  dealing.  "  Oh  merchants  !"  would  he 
say,  "  falsehood  and  deception  are  apt  to  prevail 
in  traffic,  purify  it  therefore  with  alms  ;  give 
something  in  charity  as  an  atonement  ;  for  God  is 
incensed  by  deceit  in  dealing,  but  charity  ap- 
peases his  anger.  He  who  sells  a  defective  thing, 
concealing  its  defect,  will  provoke  the  anger  of 
God  and  the  curses  of  the  angels. 

"Take  not  advantage  of  the  necessities  of 
another  to  buy  things  at  a  sacrifice  ;  rather  re- 
lieve his  indigence. 

"  Feed  the  hungry,  visit  the  sick,  and  free  the 
captive  if  confined  unjustly. 

"  Look  not  scornfully  upon  thy  fellow  man  ; 
neither  walk  the  earth  with  insolence  ;  for  God 
loveth  not  the  arrogant  and  vainglorious.  Be 
moderate  in  thy  pace,  and  speak  with  a  moderate 
tone  ;  for  the  most  ungrateful  of  all  voices  is  the 
voice  of  asses."* 


*  The  following  words  of  Mahomet,  treasured  up 
by  one  of  his  disciples,  appear  to  have  been  suggested 
by  a  passage  in  Matthew  25  :  35-45  : 

"  Verily,  God  will  say  at  the  day  of  resurrection, 
'  Oh  sons  of  Adam  !  I  was  sick,  and  ye  did  not  visit 
me.'  Then  they  will  say,  '  How  could  we  visit  thee  ? 
for  thou  art  the  Lord  of  the  universe,  and  art  free 
from  sickness.'  And  God  will  reply,  '  Knew  ye  not 
that  such  a  one  of  my  servants  was  sick,  and  ye  did 
not  visit  him  ?  Had  you  visited  that  servant,  it  would 
have  been  counted  to  you  as  righteousness.'  And 
God  will  say,  '  Oh  sons  of  Adam  !  I  asked  you  for 
food,  and  ye  gave  it  me  not.'  And  the  sons  of  Adam 
will  say,  '  How  could  we  give  thee  food,  seeing  thou 
art  the  sustainer  of  the  universe,  and  art  free  from 
hunger  ? '  And  God  will  say,  '  Such  a  one  of  my  ser- 
vants asked  you  for  bread,  and  ye  refused  it.  Had 
you  given  him  to  eat,  ye  would  have  received  your  re- 
ward from  me."  And  God  will  say,  'Oh  sons  of 
Adam  !  I  asked  you  for  water,  and  ye  gave  it  me  not.' 
They  will  reply,  '  Oh,  our  supporter  !  How  could  we 
give  thee  water,  seeing  thou  art  the  sustainer  of  the 


Idolatry  of  all  kinds  was  strictly  forbidden  ;  in« 
deed  it  was  what  Mahomet  held  in  most  abhor- 
rence. Many  of  the  religious  usages,  however, 
prevalent  since  time  immemorial  among  the 
Arabs,  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  from 
infancy,  and  which  were  not  incompatible  with 
the  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  God,  were  still  re- 
tained. Such  was  the  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  in- 
cluding all  the  rites  connected  with  the  Caaba, 
the  well  of  Zem  Zem,  and  other  sacred  places  in, 
the  vicinity  ;  apart  from  any  worship  of  the  idols 
by  which  they  had  been  profaned. 

The  old  Arabian  rite  of  prayer,  accompanied  or 
rather  preceded  by  ablution,  was  still  continued. 
Prayers  indeed  were  enjoined  at  certain  hours  of 
the  day  and  night  ;  they  were  simple  in  form  and 
phrase,  addressed  directly  to  the  Deity  with  cer- 
tain inflections,  or  at  times  a  total  prostration  of  the 
body,  and  with  the  face  turned  toward  the  Kebla, 
or  point  of  adoration. 

At  the  end  of  each  prayer  the  following  verse 
from  the  second  chapter  of  the  Koran  was  recited. 
It  is  said  to  have  great  beauty  in  the  original 
Arabic,  and  is  engraved  on  gold  and  silver  orna- 
ments, and  on  precious  stones  worn  as  amulets. 
"  God  !  There  is  no  God  but  He,  the  living,  the 
ever  living  ;  he  sleepeth  not,  neither  doth  he  slum- 
ber. To  him  belongeth  the  heavens,  and  the  earth, 
and  all  that  they  contain.  Who  shall  intercede 
with  him  unless  by  his  permission  ?  He  knoweth 
the  past  and  the  future,  but  no  one  can  compre- 
hend anything  of  his  knowledge  but  that  which 
he  revealeth.  His  sway  extendeth  ever  the  heav- 
ens and  the  earth,  and  to  sustain  them  both  is  no 
burden  to  him.  He  is  the  High,  the  Mighty  !'" 

Mahomet  was  strenuous  in  enforcing  the  impor- 
tance and  efficacy  of  prayer.  "  Angels,"  said  he, 
"come  among  you  both  by  night  and  day  ;  after 
which  those  of  the  night  ascend  to  heaven,  and 
God  asks  them  how  they  left  his  creatures.  We 
found  them,  say  they,  at  their  prayers,  and  we  left 
them  at  their  prayers." 

The  doctrines  in  the  Koran  respecting  the  resur- 
rection and  final  judgment,  were  in  some  respects 
similar  to  those  of  the  Christian  religion,  but  were 
mixed  up  with  wild  notions  derived  from  other 
sources  ;  while  the  joys  of  the  Moslem  heaven, 
though  partly  spiritual,  were  clogged  and  debased 
by  the  sensualities  of  earth,  and  infinitely  below 
the  ineffable  purity  and  spiritual  blessedness  of 
the  heaven  promised  by  our  Saviour. 

Nevertheless,  the  description  of  the  last  clay,  as 
contained  in  the  eighty-first  chapter  of  the  Koran, 
and  which  must  have  been  given  by  Mahomet  at 
the  outset  of  his  mission  at  Mecca,  as  one  of  the 
first  of  his  revelations,  partakes  of  sublimity. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  all  merciful  God  !  a  day 
shall  come  when  the  sun  will  be  shrouded,  and 
the  stars  will  fall  from  the  heavens. 

"  When  the  camels  about  to  foal  will  be  neg- 
lected, and  wild  beasts  will  herd  together  through 
fear. 

"  When  the  waves  of  the  ocean  will  boil,  and  the 
souls  of  the  dead  again  be  united  to  the  bodies. 

"  When  the  female  infant  that  has  been  buried 
alive  will  demand,  For  what  crime  was  I  sacri- 
ficed ?  and  the  eternal  books  will  be  laid  open. 

"  When  the  heavens  will  pass  away  like  a  scroll, 
and  hell  will  burn  fiercely  ;  and  the  joys  of  para- 
dise will  be  made  manifest. 


universe,  and  not  subject  to  thirst  ? '  And  God  will 
say,  '  Such  a  one  of  my  servants  asked  you  for  water, 
and  ye  did  not  give  it  to  him.  Had  ye  done  so,  ye 
•would  have  received  your  reward  irom  me.'  "  _/ 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


19 


"  On  that  day  shall  every  soul  make  known  that 
which  it  hath  performed. 

"  Verily,  I  swear  to  you  by  the  stars  which 
move  swiftly  and  are  lost  in  the  brightness  of  the 
sun,  and  by  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  by  the 
dawning  of  the  day,  these  are  not  the  words  of  an 
evil  spirit,  but  of  an  angel  of  dignity  arid  power, 
who  possesses  the  confidence  of  Allah,  and  is  re- 
vered by  the  angels  under  his  command.  Neither 
is  your  companion,  Mahomet,  distracted.  He 
beheld  the  celestial  messenger  in  the  light  of  the 
clear  horizon,  and  the  words  revealed  to  him  are 
intended  as  an  admonition  unto  all  creatures." 

NOTE. — To  exhibit  the  perplexed  maze  of  contro- 
versial doctrines  from  which  Mahomet  had  to  acquire 
his  notions  of  the  Christian  faith,  we  subjoin  the  lead- 
ing points  of  the  jarring  sects  of  oriental  Christians 
alluded  to  in  the  foregoing  article  ;  all  of  which  have 
been  pronouced  heretical  or  schismatic. 

The  Sabellians,  so  called  from  Sabellius,  a  Libyan 
priest  of  the  third  century,  believed  in  the  unity  of 
God,  and  that  the  Trinity  expressed  but  three  different 
states  or  relations.  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  all 
forming  but  one  substance,  as  a  man  consists  of  body 
and  soul. 

The  Arian?,  from  Arius,  an  eccles:astic  or  Alexan- 
dria in  the  fourth  century,  affirmed  Christ  to  be  the 
Son  of  God,  but  distinct  from  him  and  inferior  to  him. 
and  denied  the  Holy  Ghost  to  be  God. 

The  Nestorians,  from  Nestorius,  Bishop  of  Con- 
stantinople in  the  fi  fth  century,  maintained  that 
Christ  had  two  distinct  natures,  divine  and  human  ; 
that  Mary  was  only  his  mother,  and  Jesus  a  man,  and 
that  it  was  an  abomination  to  style  her,  as  was  the 
custom  of  the  church,  the  Mother  of  God. 

The  Monophysites  maintained  the  single  nature  of 
Christ,  as  their  name  betokens.  They  affirmed  that 
he  was  combined  of  God  and  man,  so  mingled  and 
united  as  to  form  but  one  nature. 

The  Eutychians,  from  Eutyches,  abbot  of  a  convent 
in  Constantinople  in  the  fifth  century,  were  a  branch 
of  the  Monophysites,  expressly  opposed  to  the  Nes- 
torians. They  denied  the  double  nature  of  Christ, 
declaring  that  he  was  entirely  God  previous  to  the  in- 
carnation, and  entirely  man  during  the  incarnation. 

The  Jacobites,  from  Jacobus,  bishop  of  Edessa  in 
Syria,  in  the  sixth  century,  were  a  very  numerous 
branch  of  the  Monophysites,  varying  but  little  from 
the  Eutychians.  Most  of  the  Christian  tribes  of 
Arabs  were  Jacobites. 

The  Mariamites,  or  worshippers  of  Mary,  regarded 
the  Trinity  as  consisting  of  God  the  Father,  God  the 
Son,  and  God  the  Virgin  Mary. 

The  Colly  rid  ians  were  a  sect  of  Arabian  Christians, 
composed  chiefly  of  females.  They  worshipped  the 
Virgin  Mary  as  possessed  of  divinity,  and  made  offer- 
ings to  her  of  a  twisted  cake,  called  collyris,  whence 
they  derived  their  name. 

The  Nazarceans,  or  Nazarenes,  were  a  sect  of  Jew- 
ish Christians,  who  considered  Christ  as  the  Messiah, 
as  born  of  a  Virgin  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  as  possess- 
ing something  of  a  divine  nature  ;  but  they  con- 
formed in  all  other  respects  to  the  rites  and  cere- 
monies of  the  Mosaic  law. 

The  Ebionites,  from  Ebion,  a  converted  Jew  who 
lived  in  the  first  century,  were  also  a  sect  of  judaizing 
Christian?,  little  differing  from  the  Nazarreans.  They 
believed  Christ  to  be  a  pure  man,  the  greatest  of  the 
prophets,  but  denied  that  he  had  any  existence  previ- 
ous to  being  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  This  sect,  as 
well  as  that  of  the  Nazaraeans,  had  many  adherents  in 
Arabia. 

Many  other  sects  might  be  enumerated,  such  as  the 
Corinthians,  Maronites,  and  Marcionites,  who  took 
their  names  from  learned  and  zealous  leaders  ;  and 
the  Docetes  and  Gnostics,  who  were  subdivided  into 
various  sects  of  subtle  enthusiasts.  Some  of  these 
asserted  the  immaculate  purity  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
affirming  that  her  conception  and  delivery  were 


effected  like  the  transmission  of  the  rays  of  light 
through  a  pane  of  glass,  without  impairing  her  virgin- 
ity ;  an  opinion  still  maintained  strenuously  in  sub- 
stance by  Spanish  Catholics. 

Most  of  the  Docetes  asserted  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
of  a  nature  entirely  divine  ;  that  a  phantom,  a  mere 
form  without  substance,  was  crucified  by  the  deluded 
Jews,  and  that  the  crucifixion  and  resurrection  were 
deceptive  mystical  exhibitions  at  Jerusalem  for  the 
benefit  of  the  human  race. 

The  Carpocratians,  Basilidians,  and  Valeruinians, 
named  after  three  Egyptian  controversialists,  contend- 
ed that  Jesus  Christ  was  merely  a  wise  and  virtuous 
mortal,  the  son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  selected  by  God 
to  reform  and  instruct  mankind  ;  but  that  a  divine 
nature  was  imparted  to  him  at  the  maturity  of  his  age, 
and  period  of  his  baptism,  by  St.  John.  The  former 
part  of  this  creed,  which  is  that  of  the  Ebionites,  has 
been  revived,  and  is  professed  by  some  of  the  Unita- 
rian Christians,  a  numerous  and  increasing  sect  of 
Protestants  of  the  present  day. 

It  is  sufficient  to  glance  at  these  dissensions,  which 
we  have  not  arranged  in  chronological  order,  but 
which  convulsed  the  early  Christian  church,  and  con- 
tinued to  prevail  at  the  era  of  Mahomet,  to  acquit  him 
of  any  charge  of  conscious  blasphemy  in  the  opinions 
he  inculcated  concerning  the  nature  and  mission  of 
our  Saviour. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

RIDICULE  CAST  ON  MAHOMET  AND  HIS  DOC- 
TRINES— DEMAND  FOR  MIRACLES — CONDUCT 
OF  ABU  TALEB — VIOLENCE  OF  THE  KOREISHITES 
— MAHOMET'S  DAUGHTER  ROKAIA,  WITH  HER 
UNCLE  OTHMAN,  AND  A  NUMBER  OF  DISCI- 
PLES TAKE  REFUGE  IN  ABYSSINIA — MAHOMET 
IN  THE  HOUSE  OF  ORKHAM — HOSTILITY  OF 
ABU  JAHL  ;  HIS  PUNISHMENT. 

THE  greatest  difficulty  with  which  Mahomet  had 
to  contend  at  the  outset  of  his  prophetic  career 
was  the  ridicule  of  his  opponents.  Those  who  had 
known  him  from  his  infancy — who  had  seen  him 
a  boy  about  the  streets  of  Mecca,  and  afterward 
occupied  in  all  the  ordinary  concerns  of  life, 
scoffed  at  his  assumption  of  the  apostolic  charac- 
ter. They  pointed  with  a  sneer  at  him  as  he 
passed,  exclaiming,  "  Behold  the  grandson  of 
Abd  al  Motalleb,  who  pretends  to  know  what  is 
going  on  in  heaven  !"  Some  who  had  witnessed 
his  fits  of  mental  excitement  and  ecstasy  consid- 
ered him  insane  ;  others  declared  that  he  was  pos- 
sessed with  a  devil,  and  some  charged  him  with 
sorcery  and  magic. 

When  he  walked  the  streets  he  was  subject  to 
those  jeers  and  taunts  and  insults  which  the  vul- 
gar are  apt  to  vent  upon  men  of  eccentric  conduct 
and  unsettled  mind.  If  he  attempted  to  preach, 
his  voice  was  drowned  by  discordant  noises  and 
ribald  songs  ;  nay,  dirt  was  thrown  upon  him 
when  he  was  praying  in  the  Caaba. 

Nor  was  it  the  vulgar  and  ignorant  alone  who 
thus  insulted  him.  One  of  his  most  redoubtable 
assailants  was  a  youth  named  Amru  ;  and  as  he 
subsequently  made  a  distinguished  figure  in  Ma- 
hometan history,  we  would  impress  the  circum- 
stances of  this,  his  first  appearance,  upon  the  mind 
of  the  reader.  He  was  the  son  of  a  courtesan  of 
Mecca,  who  seems  to  have  rivalled  in  fascination 
the  Phrynes  and  Aspasias  of  Greece,  and  to  have 
numbered  some  of  the  noblest  of  the  land  among 
her  lovers.  When  she  gave  birth  to  this  child, 
she  mentioned  several  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish  who 
had  equal  claims  to  the  paternity.  The  infant  was 
declared  to  have  most  resemblance  to  Aass,  the 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


oldest  of  her  admirers,  whence,  in  addition  to  his 
name  of  Amru,  he  received  the  designation  of  Ibn 
al  Aass,  the  son  of  Aass. 

Nature  had  lavished  her  choicest  gifts  upon  this 
natural  child,  as  if  to  atone  for  the  blemish  of  his 
birth.  Though  young,  he  was  already  one  of  the 
most  popular  poets  of  Arabia,  and  equally  distin- 
guished for  the  pungency  of  his  satirical  effusions 
and  the  captivating  sweetness  of  his  serious  lays. 
When  Mahomet  first  announced  his  mission, 
this  youth  assailed  him  with  lampoons  and  humor- 
ous madrigals  ;  which,  falling  in  with  the  poetic 
taste  of  the  Arabs,  were  widely  circulated,  and 
proved  greater  impediments  to  the  growth  of  1s- 
lamism  than  the  bitterest  persecution. 

Those  who  were  more  serious  in  their  opposi- 
tion demanded  of  Mahomet  supernatural  proofs 
of  what  he  asserted.  "  Moses  and  Jesus,  and  the 
rest  of  the  prophets,"  said  they,  "  wrought  mira- 
cles to  prove  the  divinity  of  their  missions.  If 
thou  art  indeed  a  prophet,  greater  than  they,  work 
the  like  miracles." 

The  reply  of  Mahomet  may  be  gathered  from 
his  own  words  in  the  Koran.  "  What  greater 
miracle  could  they  have  than  the  Koran  itself  :  a 
book  revealed  by  means  of  an  unlettered  man  ;  so 
elevated  in  language,  so  incontrovertible  in  argu- 
ment, that  the  united  skill  of  men  and  devils  could 
compose  nothing  comparable.  What  greater 
proof  could  there  be  that  it  came  from  none  but 
God  himself  ?  The  Koran  itself  is  a  miracle." 

They  demanded,  however,  more  palpable  evi- 
dence ;  miracles  addressed  to  the  senses  ;  that  he 
should  cause  the  dumb  to  speak,  the  deaf  to  hear, 
the  blind  to  see,  the  dead  to  rise  ;  or  that  he 
should  work  changes  in  the  face  of  nature  ;  cause 
fountains  to  gush  forth  ;  change  a  sterile  place 
into  a  garden,  with  palm-trees  and  vines  and 
running  streams  ;  cause  a  palace  of  gold  to  rise, 
decked  with  jewels  and  precious  stones  ;  or  as- 
cend by  a  ladder  into  heaven  in  their  presence. 
Or,  if  the  Koran  did  indeed,  as  he  affirmed,  come 
clown  from  heaven,  that  they  might  see  it  as  it 
descended,  or  behold  the  angels  who  brought  it  ; 
and  then  they  would  believe. 

Mahomet  replied  sometimes  by  arguments, 
sometimes  by  denunciations.  He  claimed  to  be 
nothing  more  than  a  man  sent  by  God  as  an  apos- 
tle. Had  angels,  said  he,  walked  familiarly  on 
earth,  an  angel  had  assuredly  been  sent  on  this 
mission  ;  but  woeful  had  been  the  case  of  those 
who,  as  in  the  present  instance,  doubted  his  word. 
They  would  not  have  been  able,  as  with  me,  to 
argue,  and  dispute,  and  take  time  to  be  convinced  ; 
their  perdition  would  have  been  instantaneous. 
"  God,"  added  he,  "  needs  no  angel  to  enforce  my 
mission.  He  is  a  sufficient  witness  between  you 
and  me.  Those  whom  he  shall  dispose  to  be  con- 
vinced will  truly  believe  ;  those  whom  he  shall 
permit  to  remain  in  error  will  find  none  to  help 
their  unbelief.  On  the  day  of  resurrection  they 
will  appear  blind,  and  deaf,  and  dumb,  and  grov- 
elling on  their  faces.  Their  abode  will  be  in  the 
eternal  flames  of  Jehennam.  Such  will  be  the  re- 
ward of  their  unbelief. 

"  You  in'sist  on  miracles.  God  gave  to  Moses 
the  power  of  working  miracles.  What  was  the 
consequence  ?  Pharaoh  disregarded  his  miracles, 
accused  him  of  sorcery,  and  sought  to  drive  him 
and  his  people  from  the  land  ;  but  Pharaoh  was 
drowned,  and  with  him  all  his  host.  Would  ye 
tempt  God  to  miracles,  and  risk  the  punishment 
of  Pharaoh  ?" 

It  is  recorded  by  Al  Maalem,  an  Arabian  writer, 
that  some  of  Mahomet's  disciples  at  one  time 


joined  with  the  multitude  in  this  cry  for  miracles, 
and  besought  him  to  prove,  at  once,  the  divinity 
of  his  mission,  by  turning  the  hill  of  Safa  into 
gold.  Being  thus  closely  urged,  he  betook  him- 
self to  prayer  ;  and  having  finished,  assured  his 
followers  that  the  angel  Gabriel  had  appeared  to 
him,  and  informed  him  that,  should  God  grant 
his  prayer,  and  work  the  desired  miracle,  all  who 
disbelieved  it  would  be  exterminated.  In  pity  to 
the  multitude,  therefore,  who  appeared  to  be  a 
stiff-necked  generation,  he  would  not  expose  them 
to  destruction  :  so  the  hill  of  Safa  was  permitted 
to  remain  in  its  pristine  state. 

Other  Moslem  writers  assert  that  Mahomet  de- 
parted from  his  self-prescribed  rule,  and  wrought 
occasional  miracles,  when  he  found  his  hearers 
unusually  slow  of  belief.  Thus  we  are  told  that, 
at  one  time,  in  presence  of  a  multitude,  he  called 
to  him  a  bull,  and  took  from  his  horns  a  scroll 
containing  a  chapter  of  the  Koran,  just  sent  clown 
from  heaven.  At  another  time,  while  discoursing 
in  public,  a  white  dove  hovered  over  him,  and, 
alighting  on  his  shoulder,  appeared  to  whisper  in 
his  ear  ;  being,  as  he  said,  a  messenger  from  the 
Deity.  On  another  occasion  he  ordered  the  earth 
before  him  to  be  opened,  when  two  jars  were 
found,  one  filled  with  honey,  the  other  with  milk, 
which  he  pronounced  emblems  of  the  abundance 
promised  by  heaven  to  all  who  should  obey  his 
law. 

Christian  writers  have  scoffed  at  these  miracles  ; 
suggesting  that  the  dove  had  been  tutored  to  its 
task,  and  sought  grains  of  wheat  which  it  had 
been  accustomed  to  find  in  the  ear  of  Mahomet  ; 
that  the  scroll  had  previously  been  tied  to  the 
horns  of  the  bull,  and  the  vessels  of  milk  and 
honey  deposited  in  the  ground.  The  truer  course 
would  be  to  discard  these  miraculous  stories  alto- 
gether, as  fables  devised  by  mistaken  zealots  ; 
and  such  they  have  been  pronounced  by  the  ablest 
of  the  Moslem  commentators. 

There  is  no  proof  that  Mahomet  descended  to 
any  artifices  of  the  kind  to  enforce  his  doctrines 
or  establish  his  apostolic  claims.  He  appears  to 
have  relied  entirely  on  reason  and  eloquence,  and 
to  have  been  supported  by  religious  enthusiasm 
in  this  early  and  dubious  stage  of  his  career.  His 
earnest  attacks  upon  the  idolatry  which  had  viti- 
ated and  superseded  the  primitive  worship  of  the 
Caaba,  began  to  have  a  sensible  effect,  and 
alarmed  the  Koreishites.  They  urged  Abu  Taleb 
to  silence  his  nephew  or  to  send  him  away  ;  but 
finding  their  entreaties  unavailing,  they  informed 
the  old  man  that  if  this  pretended  prophet  and  his 
followers  persisted  in  their  heresies,  they  should 
pay  for  them  with  their  lives. 

Abu  Taleb  hastened  to  inform  Mahomet  of 
these  menaces,  imploring  him  not  to  provoke 
against  himself  and  family  such  numerous  and 
powerful  foes. 

The  enthusiastic  spirit  of  Mahomet  kindled  at 
the  words.  "  Oh  my  uncle  !"  exclaimed  he, 
"  though  they  should  array  the  sun  against  me  on 
my  right  hand,  and  the  moon  on  my  left,  yet,  until 
God  should  command  me,  or  should  take  me 
hence,  would  I  not  depart  from  my  purpose." 

He  was  retiring  with  dejecte  1  countenance, 
when  Abu  Taleb  called  him  back.  The  old  man 
was  as  yet  unconverted,  but  he  was  struck  with 
admiration  of  the  undaunted  firmness  of  his 
nephew,  and  declared  that,  preach  what  he  might, 
he  would  never  abandon  him  to  his  enemies. 
Feeling  that  of  himself  he  could  not  yield  suffi- 
cient protection,  he  called  upon  the  other  descend- 
ants of  Haschem  and  Abd  al  Motalleb  to  aid  in 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


shielding  their  kinsman  from  the  persecution  of 
the  rest  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish  ;  and  so  strong  is 
the  family  tie  among  the  Arabs,  that  though  it 
\vas  protecting  him  in  what  they  considered  a 
dangerous  heresy,  they  all  consented  excepting 
his  uncle,  Abu  Lahab. 

The  animosity  of  the  Koreishites  became  more 
and  more  virulent,  and  proceeded  to  personal 
violence.  Mahomet  was  assailed  and  nearly 
strangled  in  the  Caaba,  and  was  rescued  with  diffi- 
culty by  Abu  Beker,  who  himself  suffered  per- 
sonal injury  in  the  affray.  His  immediate  family 
became  objects  of  hatred,  especially  his  daughter 
Rokaia  and  her  husband,  Othman  Ibn  Affan. 
Such  of  his  disciples  as  had  no  powerful  friends 
to  protect  them  were  in  peril  of  their  lives.  Full 
of  anxiety  for  their  safety,  Mahomet  advised  them 
to  leave  his  dangerous  companionship  for  the 
present,  and  take  refuge  in  Abyssinia.  The  nar- 
rowness of  the  Red  Sea  made  it  easy  to  reach  the 
African  shore.  The  Abyssinians  were  Nestorian 
Christians,  elevated  by  their  religion  above  their 
barbarous  neighbors.  Their  najashee  or  king 
was  reputed  to  be  tolerant  and  just.  'With  him 
Mahomet  trusted  his  daughter  and  his  fugitive 
disciples  would  find  refuge. 

Othman  Ibn  Affan  was  the  leader  of  this  little 
band  of  Moslems,  consisting  of  eleven  men  and 
four  women.  They  took  the  way  by  the  sea-coast 
to  Jodda,  a  port  about  two  days'  journey  to  the 
east  of  Mecca,  where  they  found  two  Abyssinian 
vessels  at  anchor,  in  which  they  embarked,  and 
sailed  for  the  land  of  refuge. 

This  event,  which  happened  in  the  fifth  year  of 
the  mission  of  Mahomet,  is  called  the  first  Hegira 
or  Flight,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  second  He- 
gira, the  flight  of  the  prophet  himself  from  Mecca 
to  Medina.  The  kind  treatment  experienced  by 
the  fugitives  induced  others  of  the  same  faith  to 
follow  their  example,  until  the  number  of  Moslem 
refugees  in  Abyssinia  amounted  to  eighty-three 
men  and  eighteen  women,  besides  children. 

The  Koreishites  finding  that  Mahomet  was  not 
to  be  silenced,  and  was  daily  making  converts, 
passed  a  law  banishing  all  who  should  embrace 
his  faith.  Mahomet  retired  before  the  storm,  and 
took  refuge  in  the  house  of  a  disciple  named  Ork- 
ham,  situated  on  the  hill  of  Safa.  This  hill,  as 
has  already  been  mentioned,  was  renowned  in 
Arabian  tradition  as  the  one  on  which  Adam  and 
Eve  were  permitted  to  come  once  more  together, 
after  the  long  solitary  wandering  about  the  earth 
which  followed  their  expulsion  from  paradise.  It 
was  likewise  connected  in  tradition  with  the  for- 
tunes of  Hagar  and  Ishmael. 

Mahomet  remained  for  a  month  in  the  house  of 
Orkham,  continuing  his  revelations  and  drawing 
to  him  sectaries  from  various  parts  of  Arabia.  The 
hostility  of  the  Koreishites  followed  him  to  his  re- 
treat. Abu  Jahl,  an  Arab  of  that  tribe,  sought 
him  out,  insulted  him  with  opprobrious  language, 
and  even  personally  maltreated  him.  The  outrage 
was  reported  to  Hamza,  an  uncle  of  Mahomet,  as 
he  returned  to  Mecca  from  hunting.  Hamza  was 
no  proselyte  to  Islamism,  but  he  was  pledged  to 
protect  his  nephew.  Marching  with  his  bow  un- 
strung in  his  hand  to  an  assemblage  of  the  Kore- 
ishites, where  Abu  Jahl  was  vaunting  his  recent 
triumph,  he  dealt  the  boaster  a  blow  over  the  head 
that  inflicted  a  grievous  wound.  The  kinsfolk  of 
Abu  Jahl  rushed  to  his  assistance,  but  the  brawler 
stood  in  awe  of  the  vigorous  arm  and  fiery  spirit 
of  Hamza,  and  sought  to  pacify  him.  "  Let  him 
alone,"  said  he  to  his  kinsfolk  ;  "  in  truth  I  have 
treated  his  nephew  very  roughly."  He  alleged  in 


palliation  of  his  outrage  the  apostasy  of  Ma- 
homet ;  but  Hamza  was  not  to  be  appeased. 
"  Well  !"  cried  he,  fiercely  and  scornfully,  "  I 
also  do  not  believe  in  your  gods  of  stone  ;  can  you 
compel  me  ?"  Anger  produced  in  his  bosom 
what  reasoning  might  have  attempted  in  vain. 
He  forthwith  declared  himself  a  convert  ;  took  the 
oath  of  adhesion  to  the  prophet,  and  became  one 
of  the  most  zealous  and  valiant  champions  of  the 
new  faith. 


CHAPTER    X. 

OMAR  IBN  AL  KHATTAB,  NEPHEW  OF  ABU  JAHL, 
UNDERTAKES  TO  REVENGE  HIS  UNCLE  BY 
SLAYING  MAHOMET — HIS  WONDERFUL  CON- 
VERSION TO  THE  FAITH — MAHOMET  TAKES 
REFUGE  IN  A  CASTLE  OF  ABU  TALEB— ABU 
SOFIAN,  AT  THE  HEAD  OF  THE  RIVAL  BRANCH 
OF  KOREISHITES,  PERSECUTES  MAHOMET  AND 
HIS  FOLLOWERS — OBTAINS  A  DECREE  OF  NON- 
INTERCOURSE  WITH  THEM — MAHOMET  LEAVES 
HIS  RETREAT  AND  MAKES  CONVERTS  DURING 
THE  MONTH  OF  PILGRIMAGE— LEGEND  OF  THE 
CONVERSION  OF  HABIB  THE  WISE. 

THE  hatred  of  Abu  Jahl  to  the  prophet  was  in- 
creased by  the  severe  punishment  received  at  the 
hands  of  Hamza.  He  had  a  nephew  named  Omar 
Ibn  al  Khattab  ;  twenty-six  years  of  age  ;  of 
gigantic  stature,  prodigious  strength,  and  great 
courage.  His  savage  aspect  appalled  the  bold, 
and  his  very  walking-staff  struck  more  terror  into 
beholders  than  another  man's  sword.  Such  are 
the  words  of  the  Arabian  historian,  Abu  Abdal- 
lah  Mohamed  Ibn  Omal  Alwakedi,  and  the  subse- 
quent feats  of  this  warrior  prove  that  they  were 
scarce  chargeable  with  exaggeration. 

Instigated  by  his  uncle  Abu  Jahl,  this  fierce 
Arab  undertook  to  penetrate  to  the  retreat  of  Ma- 
homet, who  was  still  in  the  house  of  Orkham,  and 
to  strike  a  poniard  to  his  heart.  The  Koreishites 
are  accused  of  having  promised  him  one  hundred 
camels  and  one  thousand  ounces  of  gold  for  this 
deed  of  blood  ;  but  this  is  improbable,  nor  did 
the  vengeful  nephew  of  Abu  Jahl  need  a  bribe. 

As  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  house  of  Orkham 
he  met  a  Koreishite,  to  whom  he  imparted  his  de- 
sign. The  Koreishite  was  a  secret  convert  to  Is- 
lamism,  and  sought  to  turn  him  from  his  blood/ 
errand.  "  Before  you  slay  Mahomet,"  said  ht, 
"  and  draw  upon  yourself  the  vengeance  of  his 
relatives,  see  that  your  own  are  free  from  heresy." 
"  Are  any  of  mine  guilty  of  backsliding  ?"  de- 
manded Omar  with  astonishment.  "  Even  so," 
was  the  reply  ;  "  thy  sister  Amina  and  her  hus- 
band Seid." 

Omar  hastened  to  the  dwelling  of  his  sister, 
and,  entering  it  abruptly,  found  her  and  her  hus- 
band reading  the  Koran.  Seid  attempted  to  con- 
ceal it,  but  his  confusion  convinced  Omar  of  th<: 
truth  of  the  accusation,  and  heightened  his  fury. 
In  his  rage  he  struck  Seid  to  the  earth,  placed  hi:; 
foot  upon  his  breast,  and  would  have  plunged  his 
sword  into  it,  had  not  his  sister  interposed.  A 
blow  on  the  face  bathed  her  visage  in  blood. 
"  Enemy  of  Allah  !"  sobbed  Amina,  "  dost  thou 
strike  me  thus  for  believing  in  the  only  true  God  ? 
In  despite  of  thee  and  thy  violence,  I  will  persevere 
in  the  true  faith.  Yes,"  added  she  with  fervor, 
"  '  There  is  no  God  but  God,  and  Mahomet  is  his 
prophet  ;'  and  now,  Omar,  finish  thy  work  !" 

Omar  paused,  repented  of  his  violence,  and 
took  his  foot  from  the  bosom  of  Seid. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


"Show  me  the  writing,"  said  he.  Amina. 
however,  refused  to  let  him  touch  the  sacred  scro;l 
until  he  had  washed  his  hands.  The  passage 
which  he  read  is  said  to  have  been  the  twentieth 
chapter  of  the  Koran,  which  thus  begins  : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God  !  We 
have  not  sent  down  the  Koran  to  inflict  misery  on 
mankind,  but  as  a  monitor,  to  teach  him  to  be- 
lieve in  the  true  God,  the  creator  of  the  earth  and 
the  lofty  heavens. 

"  The  all  merciful  is  enthroned  on  high,  to  him 
belongeth  whatsoever  is  in  the  heavens  above,  and 
in  the  earth  beneath,  and  in  the  regions  under  the 
earth. 

"  Dost  thou  utter  thy  prayers  with  a  loud 
voice  ?  know  that  there  is  no  need.  God  knoweth 
the  secrets  of  thy  heart  ;  yea,  that  which  is  most 
hidden. 

"  Verily,  I  am  God  ;  there  is  none  beside  me. 
Serve  me,  serve  none  other.  Offer  up  thy  prayer 
to  none  but  me." 

The  words  of  the  Koran  sank  deep  into  the 
heart  of  Omar.  He  read  farther,  and  was  more 
and  more  moved  ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  parts 
treating  of  the  resurrection  and  of  judgment  his 
conversion  was  complete. 

He  pursued  his  way  to  the  house  of  Orkham, 
but  with  an  altered  heart.  Knocking  humbly  at 
the  door,  he  craved  admission.  "Come  in,  son 
of  al  Khattab,"  exclaimed  Mahomet.  "  What 
brings  thee  hither  ?" 

"  I  come  to  enroll  my  name  among  the  believ- 
ers of  God  and  his  prophet."  So  saying,  he  made 
the  Moslem  profession  of  faith. 

He  was  not  content  until  his  conversion  was 
publicly  known.  At  his  request  Mahomet  accom- 
panied him  instantly  to  the  Caaba,  to  perform 
openly  the  rites  of  Islamism.  Omar  walked  on 
the  left  hand  of  the  prophet,  and  Hamza  on  the 
right,  to  protect  him  from  injury  and  insult,  and 
they  were  followed  by  upward  of  forty  disciples. 
They  passed  in  open  day  through  the  streets  of 
Mecca,  to  the  astonishment  of  its  inhabitants. 
Seven  times  did  they  make  the  circuit  of  the 
Caaba,  touching  each  time  the  sacred  black  stone, 
and  complying  with  all  the  other  ceremonials. 
The  Koreishites  regarded  this  procession  with 
dismay,  but  dared  not  approach  nor  molest  the 
prophet,  being  deterred  by  the  looks  of  those  terri- 
ble men  of  battle,  Hamza  and  Omar  ;  who,  it  is 
said,  glared  upon  them  like  two  lions  that  had 
been  robbed  ol  their  young. 

Fearless  and  resolute  in  everything,  Omar  went 
by  himself  the  next  day  to  pray  as  a  Moslem  in 
the  Caaba,  in  open  defiance  of  the  Koreishites. 
Another  Moslem,  who  entered  the  temple,  was 
interrupted  in  his  worship,  and  rudely  treated  ; 
but  no  one  molested  Omar,  because  he  was  the 
nephew  of  Abu  Jahl.  Omar  repaired  to  his 
uncle.  "I  renounce  thy  protection,"  said  he. 
"  I  will  not  be  better  off  than  my  fellow-believ- 
ers." From  that  time  he  cast  his  lot  with  the  fol- 
lowers of  Mahomet,  and  was  one  of  his  most 
strenuous  defenders. 

Such  was  the  wonderful  conversion  of  Omar, 
afterward  the  most  famous  champion  of  the  Islam 
faith.  So  exasperated  were  the  Koreishites  by 
this  new  triumph  of  Mahomet,  that  his  uncle,  Abu 
Taleb,  feared  they  might  attempt  the  life  of  his 
nephew,  either  by  treachery  or  open  violence. 
At  his  earnest  entreaties,  therefore,  the  latter,  ac- 
companied by  some  of  his  principal  disciples,  with- 
drew to  a  kind  of  castle,  or  stronghold,  belonging 
to  Abu  Taleb,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city. 

The  protection  thus  given  by  Abu  Taleb,  the 


head  of  the  Haschemites,  and  by  others  of  his 
line,  to  Mahomet  and  his  followers,  although 
differing  from  them  in  faith,  drew  on  them  the 
wrath  of  the  rival  branch  of  the  Koreishites,  and 
produced  a  schism  in  the  tribe.  Abu  Sofian,  the 
head  of  that  branch,  availed  himself  of  the  here- 
sies of  the  prophet  to  throw  discredit,  not  merely 
upon  such  ol  his  kindred  as  had  embraced  his 
faith,  but  upon  the  whole  line  of  Haschem,  which, 
though  dissenting  from  his  doctrines,  had,  through 
mere  clannish  feelings,  protected  him.  It  is  evi- 
dent the  hostility  of  Abu  Sofian  arose,  not  merely 
from  personal  hatred  or  religious  scruples,  but 
from  family  feud.  He  was  ambitious  of  transfer- 
ring to  his  own  line  the  honors  of  the  city  so  long 
engrossed  by  the  Haschemites.  The  last  meas- 
ure of  the  kind-hearted  Abu  Taleb,  in  placing 
Mahomet  beyond  the  reach  of  persecution,  and 
giving  him  a  castle  as  a  refuge,  was  seized  upon 
by  Abu  Sofian  and  his  adherents,  as  a  pretext  for 
a  general  ban  of  the  rival  line.  They  accordingly 
issued  a  decree,  forbidding  the  rest  of  the  tribe  ot 
Koreish  from  intermarrying,  or  holding  any  inter- 
course, even  of  bargain  or  sale,  with  the  Has- 
chemiu3,  until  they  should  deliver  up  their  kins- 
man, Mahomet,  for  punishment.  This  decree, 
which  took  place  in  the  seventh  year  of  what  is 
called  the  mission  of  the  prophet,  was  written  on 
parchment  and  hung  up  in  the  Caaba.  It  reduced 
Mahomet  and  his  disciples  to  great  straits,  being 
almost  famished  at  times  in  the  stronghold  in 
which  they  had  taken  refuge.  The  fortress  was 
also  beleaguered  occasionally  by  the  Koreishites, 
to  enforce  the  ban  in  all  its  rigor,  and  to  prevent 
the  possibility  of  supplies. 

The  annual  season  of  pilgrimage,  however, 
when  hosts  of  pilgrims  repair  from  all  parts  of 
Arabia  to  Mecca,  brought  transient  relief  to  the 
persecuted  Moslems.  During  that  sacred  season, 
according  to  immemorial  law  and  usage  among 
the  Arabs,  all  hostilities  were  suspended,  and 
warring  tribes  met  in  temporary  peace  to  worship 
at  the  Caaba.  At  such  times  Mahomet  and  his 
disciples  would  venture  from  their  stronghold  and 
return  to  Mecca.  Protected  also  by  the  immunity 
of  the  holy  month,  Mahomet  would  mingle  among 
the  pilgrims  and  preach  and  pray  ;  propound  his 
doctrines,  and  proclaim  his  revelations.  In  this 
way  he  made  many  converts,  who,  on  their  return 
to  their  several  homes,  carried  with  them  the  seeds 
of  the  new  faith  to  distant  regions.  Among  these 
converts  were  occasionally  the  princes  or  heads 
of  tribes,  whose  example  had  an  influence  on  their 
adherents.  Arabian  legends  give  a  pompous  and 
extravagant  account  of  the  conversion  of  one  of 
these  princes  ;  which,  as  it  was  attended  by  some 
of  the  most  noted  miracles  recorded  of  Mahomet, 
may  not  be  unworthy  of  an  abbreviated  insertion. 

The  prince  in  question  was  Habib  Ibn  Malec,. 
surnamed  the  Wise  on  account  of  his  vast  knowl- 
edge and  erudition  ;  for  he  is  represented  as  deep- 
ly versed  in  magic  and  the  sciences,  and  ac- 
quainted with  all  religions,  to  their  very  founda- 
tions, having  read  all  that  had  been  written  con- 
cerning them,  and  also  acquired  practical  infor- 
mation, for  he  had  belonged  to  them  all  by  turns, 
having  been  Jew,  Christian,  and  one  of  the  Magi. 
It  is  true,  he  had  had  more  than  usual  time  for 
his  studies  and  experience,  having,  according  to 
Arabian  legend,  attained  to  the  age  of  one  hun- 
dred and  forty  years.  He  now  came  to  Mecca  at 
the  head  of  a  powerful  host  of  twenty  thousand 
men,  bringing  with  him  a  youthful  daughter, 
Satiha,  whom  he  must  have  begotten  in  a  ripe  old 
age  ;  and  for  whom  he  was  putting  up  prayers  at 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


23 


the  Caaba,  she  having  been  struck  dumb  and  deaf, 
and  blind,  and  deprived  of  the  use  of  her  limbs. 

Abu  Sofian  and  Abu  Jahl,  according  to  the  le- 
gend, thought  the  presence  of  this  very  powerful, 
very  idolatrous,'  and  very  wise  old  prince,  at  the 
head  of  so  formidable  a  host,  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity to  effect  the  ruin  o'f  Mahomet.  They  ac- 
cordingly informed  Habib  the  Wise  of  the  heresies 
of  the  pretended  prophet,  and  prevailed  upon 
the  venerable  prince  to  summon  him  into  his  pres- 
ence, at  his  encampment  in  the  Valley  of  Flints, 
there  to  defend  his  doctrines,  in  the  hope  that  his 
obstinacy  in  error  would  draw  upon  him  banish- 
ment or  death. 

The  legend  gives  a  magnificent  account  of  the 
issuing  forth  of  the  idolatrous  Koreishites,  in 
proud  array,  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  led  by 
Abu  Sofian  and  Abu  Jahl,  to  attend  the  grand 
inquisition  in  the  Valley  of  Flints  ;  and  of  the  ori- 
ental state  in  which  they  were  received  by  Habib 
the  Wise,  seated  under  a  tent  of  crimson,  on  a 
throne  of  ebony,  inlaid  with  ivory  and  sandal- 
wood,  and  covered  with  plates  of  gold. 

Mahomet  was  in  the  dwelling  of  Cadijah  when 
he  received  a  summons  to  this  formidable  tri- 
bunal. Cadijah  was  loud  in  her  expressions  of 
alarm,  and  his  daughters  hung  about  his  neck, 
weeping  and  lamenting,  for  they  thought  him  go- 
ing to  certain  death  ;  but  he  gently  rebuked  their 
fears,  and  bade  them  trust  in  Allah. 

Unlike  the  ostentatious  state  of  his  enemies, 
Abu  Sofian  and  Abu  Jahl,  he  approached  the 
scene  of  trial  in  simple  guise,  clad  in  a  white  gar- 
ment, with  a  black  turban,  and  a  mantle  which 
had  belonged  to  his  grandfather  Abd  al  Motal- 
leb,  and  was  made  of  the  stuff  of  Aden.  His  hair 
floated  below  his  shoulders,  the  mysterious  light 
of  prophecy  beamed  from  his  countenance  ;  and 
though  he  had  not  anointed  his  beard,  nor  used 
any  perfumes,  excepting  a  little  musk  and  cam- 
phor for  the  hair  of  his  upper  lip,  yet  wherever  he 
passed  a  bland  odor  diffused  itself  around,  being, 
say  the  Arabian  writers,  the  fragrant  emanations 
from  his  person. 

He  was  preceded  by  the  zealous  Abu  Beker, 
clad  in  a  scarlet  vest  and  a  white  turban,  with 
his  mantle  gathered  up  under  his  arms,  so  as  to 
display  his  scarlet  slippers. 

A  silent  awe,  continues  the  legend,  fell  upon 
the  vast  assemblage  as  the  prophet  approached. 
Not  a  murmur,  not  a  whisper  was  to  be  heard. 
The  very  brute  animals  were  charmed  to  silence  ; 
and  the  neighing  of  the  steed,  the  bellowing  of  the 
camel,  and  the  braying  of  the  ass  were  mute. 

The  venerable  Habib  received  him  graciously  : 
his  first  question  was  to  the  point.  "  They  tell 
thou  dost  pretend  to  be  a  prophet  sent  from  God  ? 
Is  it  so  ?" 

"  Even  so,"  replied  Mahomet.  "  Allah  has 
sent  me  to  proclaim  the  veritable  faith." 

"Good."  rejoined  the  wary  sage,  "  but  every 
prophet  has  given  proof  of  his  mission  by  signs 
and  miracles.  Noah  had  his  rainbow  ;  Solomon 
his  mysterious  ring  ;  Abraham  the  fire  of  the  fur- 
nace, which  became  cool  at  his  command  ;  Isaac 
the  ram,  which  was  sacrificed  in  his  stead  ; 
Moses  his  wonder-working  rod,  and  Jesus  brought 
the  dead  to  life,  and  appeased  tempests  with  a 
word.  If,  then,  thou  art  really  a  prophet,  give  us 
a  miracle  in  proof." 

The  adherents  of  ?vlahomet  trembled  for  him 
when  they  heard  this  request,  and  Abu  Jahl  clap- 
ped his  hands  and  extolled  the  sagacity  of  Habib 
the  Wise.  But  the  prophet  rebuked  him  with 
scorn.  "  Peace  !  dog  of  thy  race  !"  exclaimed 


he  ;  "  disgrace  of  thy  kindred,  and  of  thy  tribe." 
He  then  calmly  proceeded  to  execute  the  wishes 
of  Habib. 

The  first  miracle  demanded  of  Mahomet  was  to 
reveal  what  Habib  had  within  his  tent,  and  why 
he  had  brought  it  to  Mecca. 

Upon  this,  says  the  legend,  Mahomet  bent 
toward  the  earth  and  traced  figures  upon  the 
sand.  Then  raising  his  head,  he  replied,  "  Oh 
Habib  !  thou  hast  brought  hither  thy  daughter, 
Satiha,  deaf  and  dumb,  and  lame  and  blind,  in 
the  hope  of  obtaining  relief  of  Heaven.  Go  to 
thy  tent ;  speak  to  her,  and  hear  her  reply,  and 
know  that  God  is  all  powerful." 

The  aged  prince  hastened  to  his  tent.  His 
daughter  met  him  with  light  step  and  extended 
arms,  perfect  in  all  her  faculties,  her  eyes  beaming 
with  joy,  her  face  clothed  with  smiles,  and  more 
beauteous  than  the  moon  in  an  unclouded  night. 

The  second  miracle  demanded  by  Habib  was 
still  more  difficult.  It  was  that  Mahomet  should 
cover  the  noontide  heaven  with  supernatural  dark- 
ness, and  cause  the  moon  to  descend  and  rest 
upon  the  top  of  the  Caaba. 

The  prophet  performed  this  miracle  as  easily 
as  the  first.  At  his  summons,  a  darkness  blotted 
out  the  whole  light  of  day.  The  moon  was  then 
seen  straying  from  her  course  and  wandering 
about  the  firmament.  By  the  irresistible  power 
of  the  prophet,  she  was  drawn  from  the  heavens 
and  rested  on  the  top  of  the  Caaba.  She  then 
performed  seven  circuits  about  it,  after  the  man- 
ner of  the  pilgrims,  and  having  made  a  profound 
reverence  to  Mahomet,  stood  before  him  with 
lambent  wavering  motion,  like  a  flaming  sword  ; 
giving  him  the  salutation  of  peace,  and  hailing 
him  as  a  prophet. 

Not  content  with  this  miracle,  pursues  the  le- 
gend, Mahomet  compelled  the  obedient  luminary 
to  enter  by  the  right  sleeve  of  his  mantle,  and  go 
out  by  the  left  ;  then  to  divide  into  two  parts,  one 
of  which  went  toward  the  east,  and  the  other 
toward  the  west,  and  meeting  in  the  centre  of  the 
firmament,  reunited  themselves  into  a  round  and 
glorious  orb. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Habib  the  Wise  was 
convinced,  and  converted  by  these  miracles,  as 
were  also  four  hundred  and  seventy  of  the  inhab- 
itants of  Mecca.  Abu  Jahl,  however,  was  hard- 
ened in  unbelief,  exclaiming  that  all  was  illusion 
and  enchantment  produced  by  the  magic  of  Ma- 
homet. 

NOTE. — The  miracles  here  recorded  are  not  to  be 
found  in  the  pages  of  the  accurate  Abulfeda,  nor  are 
they  maintained  by  any  of  the  graver  of  the  Moslem 
writers  ;  but  they  exist  in  tradition,  and  are  set  forth 
with  great  prolixity  by  apocryphal  authors,  who  insist 
that  they  are  alluded  to  in  the  fifty-fourth  chapter  of 
the  Koran.  They  are  probably  as  true  as  many  other 
of  the  wonders  related  of  the  prophet.  It  will  be  re- 
membered that  he  himself  claimed  tut  one  miracle, 
"  the  Koran." 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  BAN  OF  NON-INTERCOURSE  MYSTERIOUSLY 
DESTROYED — MAHOMET  ENABLED  TO  RETURN 
TO  MECCA — DEATH  OF  ABU  TALEB  ;  OF  CADI- 
JAH— MAHOMET  BEfROTHS  HIMSELF  TO  AYE- 
SHA — MARRIES  SAWDA— THE  KOREISHITES  RE- 
NEW THEIR  PERSECUTION— MAHOMET  SEEKS  AN 
ASYLUM  IN  TAYEF — HIS  EXPULSION  THENCE — 
VISITED  BY  GENII  IN  THE  DESERT  OF  NAKLAH. 

THREE  years  had  elapsed  since  Mahomet  and 
his  disciples  took  refuge  in  the  castle  of  Abu  Ta' 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


leb.  The  ban  or  decree  still  existed  in  the  Caaba, 
cutting  them  off  from  all  intercourse  with  the  rest 
of  their  tribe.  The  sect,  as  usual,  increased  un- 
der persecution.  Many  joined  it  in  Mecca  ;  mur- 
murs arose  against  the  unnatural  feud  engendered 
among  the  Koreishites,  and  Abu  Sofian  was  made 
to  blush  for  the  lengths  to  which  he  had  carried 
his  hostility  against  some  of  his  kindred. 

All  at  once  it  was  discovered  that  the  parch- 
ment in  the  Caaba,  on  which  the  decree  had  been 
written,  was  so  substantially  destroyed  that 
nothing  of  the /writing  remained  but  the  initial 
words,  "  In  thy  name,  oh  Almighty  God  !"  The 
decree  was,  therefore,  declared  to  be  annulled, 
and  Mahomet  and  his  followers  were  permitted  to 
return  to  Mecca  unmolested.  The  mysterious  re- 
moval of  this  legal  obstacle  has  been  considered 
by  pious  Moslems  another  miracle  wrought  by 
supernatural  agency  in  favor  of  the  prophet  ; 
though  unbelievers  have  surmised  that  the  docu- 
ment, which  was  becoming  embarrassing  in  its 
effects  to  Abu  Sofian  himself,  was  secretly  de- 
stroyed by  mortal  hands. 

The  return  of  Mahomet  and  his  disciples  to 
Mecca  was  followed  by  important  conversions, 
both  of  inhabitants  of  the  city  and  of  pilgrims 
from  afar.  The  chagrin  experienced  by  the  Kore- 
ishites from  the  growth  of  this  new  sept  was 
soothed  by  tidings  of  victories  of  the  Persians  over 
the  Greeks,  by  which  they  conquered  Syria  and  a 
part  of  Egypt.  The  idolatrous  Koreishites  exulted 
in  the  defeat  of  the  Christian  Greeks,  whose  faith, 
being  opposed  to  the  worship  of  idols,  they  as- 
similated to  that  preached  by  Mahomet.  The  lat- 
ter replied  to  their  taunts  and  exultations  by 
producing  the  thirtieth  chapter  of  the  Koran, 
opening  with  these  words  :  "  The  Greeks  have 
been  overcome  by  the  Persians,  but  they  shall 
overcome  the  latter  in  the  course  of  a  few 
years." 

The  zealous  and  believing  Abu  Beker  made  a 
wager  of  ten  camels  that  this  prediction  would 
be  accomplished  within  three  years.  "  Increase 
the  wager,  but  lengthen  the  time,"  whispered 
Mahomet.  Abu  Beker  staked  one  hundred  cam- 
els, but  made  the  time  nine  years.  The  predic- 
tion was  verified,  and  the  wager  won.  This 
anecdote  is  confidently  cited  by  Moslem  doctors 
as  a  proof  that  the  Koran  came  down  from 
heaven,  and  that  Mahomet  possessed  the  gift  of 
prophecy.  The  whole,  if  true,  was  no  doubt  a 
shrewd  guess  into  futurity,  suggested  by  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  actual  state  of  the  warring  powers. 

Not  long  after  his  return  to  Mecca,  Mahomet 
was  summoned  to  close  the  eyes  of  his  uncle,  Abu 
Taleb,  then  upward  of  fourscore  years  of  age,  and 
venerable  in  character  as  in  person.  As  the  hour 
of  death  drew  nigh,  Mahomet  exhorted  his  uncle 
to  make  the  profession  of  faith  necessary,  accord- 
ing to  the  Islam  creed,  to  secure  a  blissful  resur- 
rection. 

A  spark  of  earthly  pride  lingered  in  the  breast 
of  the  dying  patriarch.  "  Oh  son  of  my  brother  !" 
replied  he,  "  should  I  repeat  those  words,  the 
Koreshites  would  say,  I  did  so  through  fear  of 
death." 

Abulfeda,  the  historian,  insists  that  Abu  Taleb 
actually  died  in  the  faith.  Al  Abbas,  he  says, 
hung  over  the  bed  of  his  expiring  brother,  and 
perceiving  his  lips  to  move,  approached  his  ear 
to  catch  his  dying  words.  They  were  the  wished- 
for  confession.  Others  affirm  that  his  last  words 
were,  "I  die  in  the  faith  of  Abd  al  Motalleb." 
Commentators  have  sought  to  reconcile  the  two 
accounts  by  asserting  that  Abd  al  Motalleb,  in 


his  latter  days,  renounced  the  worship  of  idols, 
and  believed  in  the  unity  of  God. 

Scarce  three  days  had  elapsed  from  the  death 
of  the  venerable  Abu  Taleb,  when  Cadijah,  the 
faithful  and  devoted  wife  of  Mahomet,  likewise 
sank  into  the  grave.  She  was  sixty-five  years  of 
age.  Mahomet  wept  bitterly  at  her  tomb,  and 
clothed  himself  in  mourning  for  her,  and  for  Abu 
Taleb,  so  that  this  year  was  called  the  year  of 
mourning.  He  was  comforted  in  his  affliction, 
says  the  Arabian  author,  Abu  Horaira,  by  an 
assurance  from  the  angel  Gabriel  that  a  silver 
palace  was  allotted  to  Cadijah  in  Paradise,  as  a 
reward  for  her  great  faith  and  her  early  services 
to  the  cause. 

Though  Cadijah  had  been  much  older  than 
Mahomet  at  the  time  of  their  marriage,  and  past 
the  bloom  of  years  when  women  are  desirable  in 
the  East,  and  though  the  prophet  was  noted  for 
an  amorous  temperament,  yet  he  is  said  to  have 
remained  true  to  her  to  the  last,  nor  ever  availed 
himself  of  the  Arabian  law,  permitting  a  plurality 
of  wives,  to  give  her  a  rival  in  his  house.  When, 
however,  she  was  laid  in  the  grave,  and  the  first 
transport  of  his  grief  had  subsided,  he  sought  to 
console  himself  for  her  loss  by  entering  anew 
into  wedlock,  and  henceforth  indulged  in  a  plu- 
rality of  wives.  He  permitted,  by  his  law,  four 
wives  to  each  of  his  followers  ;  but  did  not  limit 
himself  to  that  number  ;  for  he  observed  that  a 
prophet,  being  peculiarly  gifted  and  privileged, 
was  not  bound  to  restrict  himself  to  the  same 
laws  as  ordinary  mortals. 

His  first  choice  was  made  within  a  month  after 
the  death  of  Cadijah,  and  fell  upon  a  beautiful 
child  named  Ayesha,  the  daughter  of  his  faithful 
adherent,  Abu  Beker.  Perhaps  he  sought  by  this 
alliance  to  grapple  Abu  Beker  still  more  strongly 
to  his  side  ;  he  being  one  of  the  bravest  and  most 
popular  of  his  tribe.  Ayesha,  however,  was  but 
seven  years  of  age,  and,  though  females  soon 
bloom  and  ripen  in  those  eastern  climes,  she  was 
yet  too  young  to  enter  into  the  married  state.  He 
was  merely  betrothed  to  her,  therefore,  and  post- 
poned their  nuptials  for  two  years,  during  which 
time  he  caused  her  to  be  carefully  instructed  in 
the  accomplishments  proper  to  an  Arabian  maiden 
of  distinguished  rank. 

Upon  this  wife,  thus  chosen  in  the  very  blossom 
of  her  years,  the  prophet  doted  more  passionately 
than  upon  any  of  those  whom  he  subsequently 
married.  All  these  had  been  previously  experi- 
enced in  wedlock  ;  Ayesha,  he  said,  was  the  only 
one  who  came  a  pure  unspotted  virgin  to  his 
arms. 

Still,  that  he  might  not  be  without  due  solace 
while  Ayesha  was  attaining  the  marriageable 
age,  he  took  as  a  wife  Sawda,  the  widow  of  So- 
kran,  one  of  his  followers.  She  had  been  nurse 
to  his  daughter  Fatima,  and  was  one  of  the  faith- 
ful who  fled  into  Abyssinia  from  the  early  perse- 
cutions of  the  people  of  Mecca.  It  is  pretended 
that,  while  in  exile,  she  had  a  mysterious  intima- 
tion of  the  future  honor  which  awaited  her  ;  for 
she  dreamt  that  Mahomet  laid  his  head  upon  her 
bosom.  She  recounted  the  dream  to  her  husband 
Sokran,  who  interpreted  it  as  a  prediction  of  his 
speedy  death,  and  of  her  marriage  with  the 
prophet. 

The  marriage,  whether  predicted  or  not,  was 
one  of  mere  expediency.  Mahomet  never  loved 
Sawda  with  the  affection  he  manifested  for  his 
other  wives.  He  would  even  have  put  her  away 
in  after  years,  but  she  implored  to  be  allowed  the 
honor  of  still  calling  herself  his  wife  ;  proffering 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


that,  whenever  it  should  come  to  her  turn  to 
share  the  marriage  bed,  she  would  relinquish  her 
right  to  Ayesha.  Mahomet  consented  to  an  ar- 
rangement which  favored  his  love  for  the  latter, 
and  Savvda  continued,  as  long  as  she  lived,  to  be 
nominally  his  wife. 

Mahomet  soon  became  sensible  of  the  loss  he 
had  sustained  in  the  death  of  Abu  Taleb,  who 
had  been  not  merely  an  affectionate  relative,  but 
a  steadfast  and  powerful  protector,  from  his  great 
influence  in  Mecca.  At  his  death  there  was  no 
one  to  check  and  counteract  the  hostilities  of  Abu 
Sofian  and  Abu  Jahl,  who  soon  raised  up  such  a 
spirit  of  persecution  among  the  Koreishites  that 
Mahomet  found  it  unsafe  to  continue  in  his  native 
place.  He  set  out,  therefore,  accompanied  by 
his  freedman  Zeid,  to  seek  a  refuge  at  Tayef,  a 
small  walled  town,  about  seventy  miles  from  Mec- 
ca inhabited  by  the  Thakifites,  or  Arabs  of  the 
tribe  of  Thakeef.  It  was  one  of  the  favored  p.laces 
of  Arabia,  situated  among  vineyards  and  gar- 
dens. Here  grew  peaches  and  plums,  melons 
and  pomegranates  ;  tigs,  blue  and  green,  the  ne- 
beck-tree  producing  the  lotus,  and  palm-trees 
with  their  clusters  of  green  and  golden  fruit.  So 
fresh  were  its  pastures  and  fruitful  its  fields,  con- 
trasted with  the  sterility  of  the  neighboring  des- 
erts, that  the  Arabs  fabled  it  to  have  originally 
been  a  part  of  Syria,  broken  off  and  floated  hither 
at  the  time  of  the  deluge. 

Mahomet  entered  the  gates  of  Tayef  with  some 
degree  of  confidence,  trusting  for  protection  to 
the  influence  of  his  uncle  Al  Abbas,  who  had 
possessions  there.  He  could  not  have  chosen  a 
worse  place  of  refuge.  Tayef  was  one  ol  the 
strongholds  of  idolatry.  Here  was  maintained  in 
all  its  force  the  worship  of  El  Lat,  one  of  the  fe- 
male idols  already  mentioned.  Her  image  of 
stone  was  covered  with  jewels  and  precious 
stones,  the  offerings  of  her  votaries  ;  it  was  be- 
lieved to  be  inspired  with  life,  and  the  interces- 
sion of  El  Lat  was  implored  as  one  of  the 
daughters  of  God. 

Mahomet  remained  about  a  month  in  Tayef, 
seeking  in  vain  to  make  proselytes  among  its  in- 
habitants. When  he  attempted  to  preach  his 
doctrines,  his  voice  was  drowned  by  clamors. 
More  than  once  he  was  wounded  by  stones 
thrown  at  him,  and  which  the  faithful  Zeid  en- 
deavored in  vain  to  ward  off.  So  violent  did  the 
popular  fury  become  at  last  that  he  was  driven 
from  the  city,  and  even  pursued  for  some  dis- 
tance beyond  the  walls  by  an  insulting  rabble  of 
slaves  and  children. 

Thus  driven  ignominiously  from  his  hoped-for 
place  of  refuge,  and  not  daring  to  return  openly  to 
his  native  city,  he  remained  in  the  desert  until 
Zeid  should  procure  a  secret  asylum  for  him 
among  his  friends  in  Mecca.  In  this  extremity 
he  had  one  of  those  visions  or  supernatural  visit- 
ations which  appear  always  to  have  occurred  in 
lonely  or  agitated  moments,  when  we  may  sup- 
pose him  to  have  been  in  a  state  of  mental  excite- 
ment. It  was  after  the  evening  prayer,  he  says, 
in  a  solitary  place  in  the  valley  of  Naklah,  be- 
tween Mecca  and  Tayef.  He  was  reading  the 
Koran,  when  he  was  overheard  by  a  passing  com- 
pany of  Gins  or  Genii.  These  are  spiritual  be- 
ings, some  good,  others  bad,  and  liable  like  man 
to  future  rewards  and  punishments.  "  Hark  ! 
give  ear  !"  said  the  Genii  one  to  the  other.  They 
paused  and  listened  as  Mahomet  continued  to 
read.  "  Verily,"  said  they  at  the  end,  "  we  have 
heard  an  admirable  discourse,  which  directcth 


unto  the  right  institution  ;  wherefore  we  believe 
therein." 

This  spiritual  visitation  consoled  Mahomet  for 
his  expulsion  from  Tayef,  showing  that  though 
he  and  his  doctrines  might  be  rejected  by  men, 
they  were  held  in  reverence  by  spiritual  intelli- 
gences. At  least  so  we  may  infer  from  the  mention 
he  makes  of  it  in  the  forty-sixth  and  seventy-sec- 
ond chapters  of  the  Koran.  Thenceforward  he 
declared  himself  sent  for  the  conversion  of  these 
genii  as  well  as  of  the  human  race. 


NOTE. — The  belief  in  genii  was  prevalent  through- 
out the  East,  long  before  the  time  of  Mahomet.  They 
were  supposed  to  haunt  solitary  places,  particularly 
toward  nightfall  ;  a  superstition  congenial  to  the 
habits  and  notions  of  the  inhabitants  of  lonely  and 
desert  countries.  The  Arabs  supposed  every  valley 
and  barren  waste  to  have  its  tribe  of  genii,  who  were 
subject  to  a.  dominant  spirit,  and  roamed  forth  at 
night  to  beset  the  pilgrim  and  the  traveller.  When- 
ever, therefore,  they  entered  a  lonely  valley  toward 
the  close  of  evening,  they  used  to  supplicate  the  pre- 
siding spirit  or  lord  of  the  place  to  protect  them  from 
the  evil  genii  under  his  command. 

Those  columns  of  dust  raised  by  whirling  eddies  of 
wind,  and  which  sweep  across  the  desert,  are  sup- 
posed to  be  caused  by  some  evil  genius  or  sprite  of 
gigantic  size. 

The  serpents  which  occasionally  infest  houses  were 
thought  to  be  often  genii,  some  infidels  and  some  be- 
lievers. Mahomet  cautioned  his  followers  to  be  slow 
to  kill  a  house  serpent.  "  Warn  him  to  depart  ;  if  he 
do  no  obey,  then  kill  him,  for  it  is  a  sign  that  he  is  a 
mere  reptile  or  an  infidel  genius." 

It  is  fabled  that  in  earlier  times  the  genii  had  ad- 
mission to  heaven,  but  were  expelled  on  account  of 
their  meddling  propensities.  They  have  ever  since 
been  of  a  curious  and  prying  nature,  often  attempting 
to  clamber  up  to  the  constellations  ;  thence  to  peep 
into  heaven,  and  see  and  overhear  what  is  going  on 
there.  They  are,  however,  driven  thence  by  angels 
with  flaming  swords  ;  and  those  meteors  called  shoot- 
ing stars  are  supposed  by  Mahometans  to  be  darted 
by  the  guardian  angels  at  these  intrusive  genii. 

Other  legends  pretend  that  the  earth  was  originally 
peopled  by  these  genii,  but  they  rebelled  against  the 
Most  High,  and  usurped  terrestrial  dominion,  which 
they  maintained  for  two  thousand  years.  At  length, 
Azazil,  or  Lucifer,  was  sent  against  them  and  defeat- 
ed them,  overthrowing  their  mighty  king  Gian  ben 
Gian,  the  founder  of  the  pyramids,  whose  magic 
buckler  of  talismanic  virtue  fell  subsequently  into  the 
hands  of  king  Solomon  the  Wise,  giving  him  power 
over  the  spells  and  charms  of  magicians  and  evil 
genii.  The  rebel  spirits,  defeated  and  humiliated, 
were  driven  into  an  obscure  corner  of  the  earth. 
Then  it  was  that  God  created  man,  with  less  danger- 
ous faculties  and  powers,  and  gave  him  the  world  for 
a  habitation. 

The  angels  according  to  Moslem  notions  were  cre- 
ated from  bright  gems  ;  the  genii  from  fire  without 
smoke,  and  Adam  from  clay. 

Mahomet,  when  in  the  seventy-second  chapter  of 
the  Koran  he  alludes  to  the  visitation  of  the  genii  in 
the  valley  of  Naklah,  makes  them  give  the  following 
frank  account  of  themselves  : 

"We  formerly  attempted  to  pry  into  what  was 
transacting  in  heaven,  but  we  found  the  same  guard- 
ed by  angels  with  flaming  darts  ;  and  we  sat  on  some 
of  the  seats  thereof  to  hear  the  discourse  of  its  inhabi- 
tants ;  but  whoso  listeneth  now  finds  a  flame  prepared 
to  guard  the  celestial  confines.  There  are  some 
among  us  who  are  Moslems,  and  there  are  others  who 
swerve  from  righteousness.  Whoso  embraceth  Islam- 
ism  seeketh  the  true  direction  ;  but  those  who  swerve 
from  righteousness  shall  be  fuel  for  the  fire  of  Jehen- 
nam." 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

NIGHT  JOURNEY  OF  THE  PROPHET  FROM  MECCA 
TO  JERUSALEM,  AND  THENCE  TO  THE  SEVENTH 
HEAVEN. 

AN  asylum  being  provided  for  Mahomet  in  the 
house  of  Mutem  Ibn  Adi,  one  of  his  disciples,  he 
ventured  to  return  to  Mecca.  The  supernatural 
visitation  of  genii  in  the  valley  of  Naklah  was 
soon  followed  by  a  vision  or  revelation  far  more 
extraordinary,  and  which  has  ever  since  remain- 
ed a  theme  of  comment  and  conjecture  among  de- 
vout Mahometans.  We  allude  to  the  famous 
night  journey  to  Jerusalem,  and  thence  to  the 
seventh  heaven.  The  particulars  of  it,  though 
given  as  if  in  the  very  words  of  Mahomet,  rest 
merely  on  tradition  ;  some,  however,  cite  texts 
corroborative  of  it,  scattered  here  and  there  in 
the  Koran. 

We  do  not  pretend  to  give  this  vision  or  revela- 
tion in  its  amplitude  and  wild  extravagance,  but 
will  endeavor  to  seize  upon  its  most  essential  feat- 
ures. 

The  night  on  which  it  occurred  is  described 
as  one  of  the  darkest  and  most  awfully  silent  that 
had  ever  been  known.  There  was  no  crowing 
of  cocks  nor  barking  of  dogs  ;  no  howling  of  wild 
beasts  nor  hooting  of  owls.  The  very  waters 
ceased  to  murmur,  and  the  winds  to  whistle  ;  all 
nature  seemed  motionless  and  dead.  In  the  mid 
watches  of  the  night  Mahomet  was  roused  by  a 
voice,  crying,  "  Awake,  thou  sleeper  !"  The 
angel  Gabriel  stood  before  him.  His  forehead 
was  clear  and  serene,  his  complexion  white  as 
snow,  his  hair  floated  on  his  shoulders  ;  he  had 
wings  of  many  dazzling  hues,  and  his  robes  were 
sown  with  pearls  and  embroidered  with  gold. 

He  brought  Mahomet  a  white  steed  of  wonder- 
ful form  and  qualities,  unlike  any  animal  he  had 
ever  seen  ;  and  in  truth  it  differs  from  any  ani- 
mal ever  before  described.  It  had  a  human  face, 
but  the  cheeks  of  a  horse  ;  its  eyes  were  as  ja- 
cinths and  radiant  as  stars.  It  had  eagle's  wings 
all  glittering  with  rays  of  light  ;  and  its  whole 
form  was  resplendent  with  gems  and  precious 
stones.  It  was  a  female,  and  from  its  dazzling 
splendor  and  incredible  velocity  was  called  Al 
Borak,  or  Lightning. 

Mahomet  prepared  to  mount  this  supernatural 
steed,  but  as  he  extended  his  hand,  it  drew~back 
and  reared. 

"  Be  still,  oh  Borak  !"  said  Gabriel  ;  "  respect 
the  prophet  of  God.  Never  wert  thou  mounted 
by  mortal  man  more  honored  of  Allah." 

"  Oh  Gabriel  !"  replied  Al  Borak,  who  at  this 
time  was  miraculously  endowed  with  speech  ; 
"  did  not  Abraham  of  old,  the  friend  of  God,  be- 
stride me  when  he  visited  his  son  Ishmael  ?  Oh 
Gabriel  !  is  not  this  the  mediator,  the  intercessor, 
the  author  of  the  profession  of  faith  ?" 

"  Even  so,  oh  Borak,  this  is  Mahomet  Ibn  Ab- 
dallah,  of  one  of  the  tribes  of  Arabia  the  Happy, 
and  of  the  true  faith.  He  is  chief  of  the  sons 
of  Adam,  the  greatest  of  the  divine  legates,  the 
seal  of  the  prophets.  All  creatures  must  have  his 
intercession  before  they  can  enter  paradise. 
Heaven  is  on  his  right  hand,  to  be  the  reward  of 
those  who  believe  in  him  ;  the  fire  of  Jehennam  is 
on  his  leit  hand,  into  which  all  shall  be  thrust 
who  oppose  his  doctrines." 

"  Oh  Gabriel  !"  entreated  Al  Borak  ;  "  by  the 
faith  existing  between  thee  and  him,  prevail  on 
him  to  intercede  for  me  at  the  day  of  the  resurrec- 
tion." 


"  Be  assured,  oh  Borak  !"  exclaimed  Mahomet, 
"  that  through  my  intercession  thou  shalt  enter 
paradise." 

No  sooner  had  he  uttered  these  words  than  the 
animal  approached  and  submitted  to  be  mounted, 
then  rising  with  Mahomet  on  his  back,  it  soared 
aloft  far  above  the  mountains  of  Mecca. 

As  they  passed  like  lightning  between  heav- 
en and  earth,  Gabriel  cried  aloud,  "  Stop,  oh 
Mahomet  !  descend  to  the  earth,  and  make  the 
prayer  with  two  inflections  of  the  body." 

They  alighted  on  the  earth,  and  having  made 
the  prayer — 

"  Oh  friend  and  well  beloved  of  my  soul  "  said 
Mahomet,  "  why  dost  thou  command  me  to  pray 
in  this  place  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  Mount  Sinai,  on  which  God 
communed  with  Moses." 

Mounting  aloft,  they  again  passed  rapidly  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth,  until  Gabriel  called  out 
a  second  time,  "  Stop,  oh  Mahomet  !  descend 
and  make  the  prayer  with  two  inflections." 

They  descended,  Mahomet  prayed,  and  again 
demanded,  "  Why  didst  thou  command  me  to 
pray  in  this  place  ?" 

"  Because  it  is  Bethlehem,  where  Jesus  the  Son 
of  Mary  was  born." 

They  resumed  their  course  through  the  air,  un- 
til a  voice  was  heard  on  the  right,  exclaiming, 
"  Oh  Mahomet,  tarry  a  moment,  that  I  may  speak 
to  thee  ;  of  all  created  beings  I  am  most  devoted 
to  thee." 

But  Borak  pressed  forward,  and  Mahomet  for- 
bore to  tarry,  for  he  felt  that  it  was  not  with  him 
to  stay  his  course,  but  with  God,  the  all-powerful 
and  glorious. 

Another  voice  was  now  neard  on  the  lett,  call- 
ing on  Mahomet  in  like  words  to  tarry  ;  Init 
Borak  still  pressed  forward,  and  Mahomet  tarried 
pot.  He  now  beheld  before  him  a  damsel  of  rav- 
ishing beauty,  adorned  with  all  fhe  luxury  and 
riches  of  the  earth.  She  beckoned  him  with  al- 
luring smiles  :  "  Tarry  a  moment,  oh  Mahomet, 
that  I  may  talk  with  thee.  I,  who,  of  all  beings, 
am  the  most  devoted  to  thee."  But  still  Borak 
pressed  on,  and  Mahomet  tarried  not  ;  consider- 
ing that  it  was  not  with  him  to  stay  his  course, 
but  with  God  the  all-powerful  and  glorious. 

Addressing  himself,  however,  to  Gabriel, 
"  What  voices  are  those  I  have  heard  ?"  said  he  ; 
"  and  what  damsel  is  this  who  has  beckoned  to 
me  ?" 

"  The  first,  oh  Mahomet,  was  the  voice  of  a 
Jew  ;  hadst  thou  listened  to  him,  all  thy  nation 
would  have  been  won  to  Judaism. 

"  The  second  was  the  voice  of  a  Christian  ; 
hadst  thou  listened  to  him,  thy  people  would  have 
inclined  to  Christianity. 

"  The  damsel  was  the  world,  with  all  its  riches, 
its  vanities,  and  allurements  ;  hadst  thou  listened 
to  her,  thy  nation  would  have  chosen  the  pleas- 
ures of  this  lite,  rather  than  the  bliss  of  eter- 
nity, and  all  would  have  been  doomed  to  perdi- 
tion." 

Continuing  their  aerial  course,  they  arrived  at 
the  gate  of  the  holy  temple  at  Jerusalem,  where, 
alighting  from  Al  Borak,  Mahomet  fastened  her 
to  the  rings  where  the  prophets  before  him  had 
fastened  her.  Then  entering  the  temple  he  found 
there  Abraham,  and  Moses,  and  Isa  (Jesus),  and 
many  more  of  the  prophets.  After  he  had  prayed 
in  company  with  them  for  a  time,  a  ladder  of  light 
was  let  down  from  heaven,  until  the  lower  end 
rested  on  the  Shakra,  or  foundation  stone  of  the 
sacred  house,  being  the  stone  of  Jacob.  Aided 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


by  the  angel  Gabriel,  Mahomet  ascended  this 
ladder  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning. 

Being  arrived  at  the  first  heaven,  Gabriel 
knocked  at  the  gate.  Who  is  there  ?  was  de- 
manded from  within.  Gabriel.  Who  is  with 
thee  ?  Mahomet.  Has  he  received  his  mission  ? 
He  has.  Then  he  is  welcome  !  and  the  gate  was 
opened. 

This  first  heaven  was  of  pure  silver  ;  and  in  its 
resplendent  vault  the  stars  are  suspended  by 
chains  of  gold.  In  each  star  an  angel  is  placed 
sentinel,  to  prevent  the  demons  from  scaling  the 
sacred  abodes.  As  Mahomet  entered  an  ancient 
man  approached  him,  and  Gabriel  said,  "  Here 
is  thy  father  Adam,  pay  him  reverence."  Ma- 
homet did  so,  and  Adam  embraced  him,  calling 
him  the  greatest  among  his  children,  and  the  first 
among  the  prophets. 

In  this  heaven  were  innumerable  animals  of  all 
kinds,  which  Gabriel  said  were  angels,  who,  un- 
der these  forms,  interceded  with  Allah  for  the 
various  races  of  animals  upon  earth.  Among 
these  was  a  cock  of  dazzling  whiteness,  and  of 
such  marvellous  height  that  his  crest  touched  the 
second  heaven,  though  five  hundred  years'  jour- 
ney above  the  first.  This  wonderful  bird  saluted 
the  ear  of  Allah  each  morning  with  his  melo- 
dious chant.  All  creatures  on  earth,  save  man, 
are  awakened  by  his  voice,  and  all  the  fowls  of 
his  kind  chant  hallelujahs  in  emulation  of  his 
note.* 

They  now  ascended  to  the  second  heaven.  Ga- 
briel, as  before,  knocked  at  the  gate  ;  the  same 
questions  and  replies  were  exchanged  ;  the  door 
opened  and  they  entered. 

This  heaven  was  all  of  polished  steel,  and  daz- 
zling splendor.  Here  they  found  Noah,  who, 
embracing  Mahomet,  hailed  him  as  the  greatest 
among  the  prophets. 

Arrived  at  the  third  heaven,  they  entered  with 
the  same  ceremonies.  It  was  all  studded  with 
precious  stones,  and  too  brilliant  for  mortal  eyes. 
Here  was  seated  an  angel  of  immeasurable 
height,  whose  eyes  were  seventy  thousand  days' 
journey  apart.  He  had  at  his  command  a  hun- 
dred thousand  battalions  of  armed  men.  Before 
him  was  spread  a  vast  book,  in  which  he  was  con- 
tinually writing  and  blotting  out. 

"This,  oh  Mahomet,"  said  Gabriel,  "is  As- 
rael,  the  angel  of  death,  who  is  in  the  confidence 
of  Allah.  In  the  book  before  him  he  is  contin- 
ually writing  the  names  of  those  who  are  to  be 


*  There  are  three  to  which,  say  the  Moslem  doc- 
tors, God  always  lends  a  willing  ear  :  the  voice  of 
him  who  reads  the  Koran  ;  of  him  who  prays  for  par- 
don ;  and  of  this  cock  who  crows  to  the  glory  of  the 
Most  High.  When  the  last  day  is  near,  they  add, 
Allah  will  bid  this  bird  to  close  his  wings  and  chant 
no  more.  Then  all  the  cocks  on  earth  will  cease  to 
crow,  and  their  silence  will  be  a  sign  that  the  great  day 
of  judgment  is  impending. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Humphrey  Prideaux,  Dean 
of  Norwich,  in  his  Life  of  Mahomet,  accuses  him  of 
having  stolen  this  wonderful  cock  from  the  tract  Bava 
Bartha  of  the  Babylonish  Talmud.  "  wherein,"  says 
he,  "  we  have  a  story  of  such  a  prodigious  bird,  calkd 
Zig,  which,  standing  with  his  feet  on  the  earth,  reach- 
eth  up  to  the  heavens  with  his  head,  and  with  the 
spreading  of  his  wings  darkeneth  the  whole  orb  of 
the  sun,  and  causeth  a  total  eclipse  thereof.  This 
bird  the  Chaldee  paraphrast  on  the  Psalms  says  is  a 
cock,  and  that  he  crows  before  the  Lord  ;  and  the 
Chaldee  paraphrast  on  Job  tells  us  of  his  crowing  every 
morning  before  the  Lord,  and  that  God  giveth  him 
wisdom  for  that  purpose." 


born,  and  blotting  out  the  names  of  those  who 
have  lived  their  allotted  time,  and  who,  therefore, 
instantly  die." 

They  now  mounted  to  the  fourth  heaven,  form- 
ed of  the  finest  silver.  Among  the  angels  who 
inhabited  it  was  one  five  hundred  days'  journey 
in  height.  His  countenance  was  troubled,  and 
rivers  of  tears  ran  from  his  eyes.  "This,"  said 
Gabriel,  "  is  the  angel  of  tears,  appointed  to  weep 
over  the  sins  ol  the  children  of  men,  and  to  pre- 
dict the  evils  which  await  them." 

The  fifth  heaven  was  of  the  finest  gold.  Here 
Mahomet  was  received  by  Aaron  with  embraces 
and  congratulations.  The  avenging  angel  dwells 
in  this  heaven,  and  presides  over  the  element  of 
fire.  Of  all  the  angels  seen  by  Mahomet,  he  was 
the  most  hideous  and  terrific.  His  visage  seemed 
of  copper,  and  was  covered  with  wens  and  warts. 
His  eyes  flashed  lightning,  and  he  grasped  a 
flaming  lance.  He  sat  on  a  throne  surrounded 
by  flames,  and  before  him  was  a  heap  of  red-hot 
chains.  Were  he  to  alight  upon  earth  in  his  true 
form,  the  mountains  would  be  consumed,  the 
seas  dried  up,  and  all  the  inhabitants  would  die 
with  terror.  To  him,  and  the  angels  his  minis- 
ters, is  intrusted  the  execution  ot  divine  ven- 
geance on  infidels  and  sinners. 

Leaving  this  awful  abode,  they  mounted  to  the 
sixth  heaven,  composed  of  a  transparent  stone, 
called  Hasala,  which  may  be  rendered  carbuncle. 
Here  was  a  great  angel,  composed  half  of  snow 
and  half  of  fire  ;  yet  the  snow  melted  not,  nor 
was  the  fire  extinguished.  Around  him  a  choir 
of  lesser  angels  continually  exclaimed,  "  Oh  Al- 
lah !  who  hast  united  snow  and  fire,  unite  all  thy 
faithful  servants  in  obedience  to  thy  law." 

"  This,"  said  Gabriel,  "  is  the  guardian  angel 
of  heaven  and  earth.  It  is  he  who  dispatches 
angels  unto  individuals  of  thy  nation,  to  incline 
them  in  favor  of  thy  mission,  and  call  them  to  the 
service  of  God  ;  and  he  will  continue  to  do  so 
until  the  day  of  resurrection." 

Here  was  the  prophet  Musa  (Moses),  who, 
however,  instead  of  welcoming  Mahomet  with 
joy,  as  the  other  prophets  had  done,  shed  tears  at 
sight  of  him. 

"  Wherefore  dost  thou  weep  ?"  inquired  Ma- 
homet. "  Because  I  behold  a  successor  who  is 
destined  to  conduct  more  of  his  nation  into  para- 
dise than  ever  I  could  of  the  backsliding  children 
of  Israel." 

Mounting  hence  to  the  seventh  heaven,  Ma- 
homet was  received  by  the  patriarch  Abraham. 
This  blisslul  abode  is  formed  of  divine  light,  and 
of  such  transcendent  glory  that  the  tongue  of  man 
cannot  describe  it.  One  of  its  celestial  inhabi- 
tants will  suffice  to  give  an  idea  ol  the  rest.  He 
surpassed  the  whole  earth  in  magnitude,  and  had 
seventy  thousand  heads  ;  each  head  seventy  thou- 
sand mouths  ;  each  mouth  seventy  thnosand 
tongues ;  each  tongue  spoke  seventy  thousand 
different  languages,  and  all  these  were  incessant- 
ly employed  in  chanting  the  praises  of  the  Most 
High. 

While  contemplating  this  wonderful  being  Ma- 
homet was  suddenly  transported  aloft  to  the  lotus- 
tree,  called  Sedrat,  which  flourishes  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  invisible  throne  of  Allah.  The 
branches  of  this  tree  extend  wider  than  the  dis- 
tance between  the  sun  and  the  earth.  Angels 
more  numerous  than  the  sands  of  the  sea-shore, 
or  of  the  beds  of  all  the  streams  and  rivers,  re- 
joice beneath  its  shade.  The  leaves  resemble  the 
ears  of  an  elephant  ;  thousands  of  immortal  birds 
sport  among  its  branches,  repeating  the  sublime 


28 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


verses  of  the  Koran.  Its  fruits  are  milder  than 
milk  and  sweeter  than  honey.  If  all  the  creatures 
of  God  were  assembled,  one  of  these  fruits  would 
be  sufficient  for  their  sustenance.  Each  seed  in- 
closes a  houri,  or  celestial  virgin,  provided  for 
the  felicity  of  true  believers.  From  this  tree  issue 
four  rivers  ;  two  flow  into  the  interior  of  paradise, 
two  issue  beyond  it,  and  become  the  Nile  and  Eu- 
phrates. 

Mahomet  and  his  celestial  guide  now  proceed- 
ed to  Al  Mamour,  or  the  House  of  Adoration, 
formed  of  red  jacinths  or  rubies,  and  surrounded 
by  innumerable  lamps,  perpetually  burning.  As 
Mahomet  entered  the  portal,  three  vases  were 
offered  him,  one  containing  wine,  another  milk, 
and  the  third  honey.  He  took  and  drank  of  the 
vase  containing  milk. 

"Well  hast  thou  done;  auspicious  is  thy 
choice,"  exclaimed  Gabriel.  "  Haclst  thou  drunk 
of  the  wine,  thy  people  had  all  gone  astray." 

The  sacred  house  resembles  in  form  the  Caaba 
at  Mecca,  and  is  perpendicularly  above  it  in  the 
seventh  heaven.  It  is  visited  every  day  by  seventy- 
thousand  angels  of  the  highest  order.  They  were 
at  this  very  time  making  their  holy  circuit,  and 
Mahomet,  joining  with  them,  walked  round  it  seven 
times. 

Gabriel  could  go  no  farther.  Mahomet  now 
traversed,  quicker  than  thought,  an  immense 
space  ;  passing  through  two  regions  of  dazzling 
light,  and  one  of  profound  darkness.  Emerging 
from  this  utter  gloom,  he  was  filled  with  awe  and 
terror  at  finding  himself  in  the  presence  of  Allah, 
and  but  two  bow-shots  from  his  throne.  The  face 
of  the  Deity  was  covered  with  twenty  thousand 
veils,  for  it  would  have  annihilated  man  to  look 
upon  its  glory.  He  put  forth  his  hands,  and 
placed  one  upon  the  breast  and  the  other  upon 
the  shoulder  of  Mahomet,  who  felt  a  freezing  chill 

Eenetrate  to  his  heart  and  to  the  very  marrow  of 
is  bones.  It  was  followed  by  a  feeling  of  ecstatic 
bliss,  while  a  sweetness  and  fragrance  prevailed 
around,  which  none  can  understand  but  those 
who  have  been  in  the  divine  presence. 

Mahomet  now  received  from  the  Deity  himself, 
many  of  the  doctrines  contained  in  the  Koran  ; 
and  fifty  prayers  were  prescribed  as  the  daily- 
duty  of  all  true  believers. 

When  he  descended  from  the  divine  presence 
and  again  met  with  Moses,  the  latter  demanded 
what  Allah  had  required.  "  That  I  should  make 
fifty  prayers  every  clay." 

"  And  thinkest  thou  to  accomplish  such  a  task  ? 
I  have  made  the  experiment  before  thee.  I  tried 
it  with  the  children  of  Israel,  but  in  vain  ;  return, 
then,  and  beg  a  diminution  of  the  task. 

Mahomet  returned  accordingly,  and  obtained  a 
diminution  of  ten  prayers  ;  but  when  he  related 
his  success  to  Moses,  the  latter  made  the  same 
objection  to  the  daily  amount  of  forty.  By  his 
advice  Mahomet  returned  repeatedly,  until  the 
number  was  reduced  to  five. 

Moses  still  objected.  "  Thinkest  thou  to  exact 
five  prayers  daily  from  thy  people  ?  By  Allah  !  I 
have  had  experience  with  the  children  of  Israel, 
and  such  a  demand  is  vain  ;  return,  therefore,  and 
entreat  still  further  mitigation  of  the  task." 

"  No,"  replied  Mahomet,  "  I  have  already  asked 
indulgence  until  I  am  ashamed."  With  these 
words  he  saluted  Moses  and  departed. 

By  the  ladder  of  light  he  descended  to  the  temple 
of  Jerusalem,  where  he  found  Borak  fastened  as  he 
had  left  her,  and  mounting,  was  borne  back  in  an 
instant  to  the  place  whence  he  had  first  been  taken. 

This  account  of  the  vision,  or  nocturnal  journey, 


is  chiefly  according  to  the  words  of  the  historians 
Abulfeda,  Al  Bokhari,  and  Abu  Horeira,  and  is 
given  more  at  large  in  the  Life  of  Mahomet  by 
Gagnier.  The  journey  itself  has  given  rise  to 
endless  commentaries  and  disputes  among  the 
doctors.  Some  affirm  that  it  was  no  more  than  a 
dream  or  vision  of  the  nig.it,  and  support  their 
assertion  by  a  tradition  derived  from  Ayesha,  the 
wife  of  Mahomet,  who  declared  that,  on  the  night 
in  question,  his  body  remained  perfectly  still,  and 
it  was  only  in  spirit  that  he  made  his  nocturnal 
journey.  In  giving  this  tradition,  however,  they 
did  not  consider  that  at  the  time  the  journey  was 
said  to  have  taken  place,  Ayesha  was  still  a  child, 
and,  though  espoused,  had  not  become  the  wife 
of  Mahomet. 

Others  insist  that  he  made  the  celestial  journey 
bodily,  and  that  the  whole  was  miraculously 
effected  in  so  short  a  space  of  time  that,  on  his 
return,  he  was  able  to  prevent  the  complete  over- 
turn of  a  vase  of  water  which  the  angel  Gabriel 
had  struck  with  his  wing  on  his  departure. 

Others  say  that  Mahornet  only  pretended  to 
have  made  the  nocturnal  journey  to  the  temple  of 
Jerusalem,  and  that  the  subsequent  ascent  to 
heaven  was  a  vision.  According  to  Ahmed  ben 
Joseph,  the  nocturnal  visit  to  the  temple  was  tes- 
tified by  the  patriarch  of  Jerusalem  himself.  "  At 
the  time,"  says  he,  "  that  Mahomet  sent  an  envoy 
to  the  emperor  Heraclius,  at  Constantinople,  in- 
viting him  to  embrace  Islamism,  the  patriarch  was 
in  the  presence  of  the  emperor.  The  envoy  hav- 
ing related  the  nocturnal  journey  of  the  prophet, 
the  patriarch  was  seized  with  astonishment,  and 
informed  the  emperor  of  a  circumstance  coincid- 
ing with  the  narrative  of  the  envoy.  '  It  is  my 
custom,'  said  he,  '  never  to  retire  to  rest  at  night 
until  I  have  fastened  every  door  of  the  temple. 
On  the  night  here  mentioned,  I  closed  them  ac- 
cording to  my  custom,  but  there  was  one  which  it 
was  impossible  to  move.  Upon  this,  I  sent  for 
the  carpenters,  who,  having  inspected  the  door, 
declared  that  the  lintel  over  the  portal,  and  the 
edifice  itself,  had  settled  to  such  a  degree  that  it 
was  out  of  their  power  to  close  the  door.  I  was 
obliged,  therefore,  to  leave  it  open.  Early  in  the 
morning  at  the  break  of  day  I  repaired  thither, 
and  behold,  the  stone  placed  at  the  corner  of  the 
temple  was  perforated,  and  there  were  vestiges  of 
the  place  where  Al  Borak  had  been  fastened. 
Then,  said  I,  to  those  present,  this  portal  would 
not  have  remained  fixed  unless  some  prophet  had 
been  here  to  pray.'  ' 

Traditions  go  on  to  say  that  when  Mahomet 
narrated  his  nocturnal  journey  to  a  large  assem- 
bly in  Mecca,  many  marvelled  yet  believed,  some 
were  perplexed  with  doubt,  but  the  Koreishites 
laughed  it  to  scorn.  "  Thou  sayest  that  thou  hast 
been  to  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,"  said  Abu  Jahl  ; 
"  prove  the  truth  of  thy  words  by  giving  a  descrip- 
tion of  it." 

For  a  moment  Mahomet  was  embarrassed  by 
the  demand,  for  he  had  visited  the  temple  in  the 
night,  when  its  form  was  not  discernible  ;  sud- 
denly, however,  the  angel  Gabriel  stood  by  his 
side,  and  placed  before  his  eyes  an  exact  type  of 
the  sacred  edifice,  so  that  he  was  enabled  instantly 
to  answer  the  most  minute  questions. 

The  story  still  transcended  the  belief  even  of 
some  of  his  disciples,  until  Abu  Beker,  seeing 
them  wavering  in  their  faith,  and  in  clanger  of 
backsliding,  roundly  vouched  for  the  truth  of  it  ; 
in  reward  for  which  support,  Mahomet  gave  him 
the  title  of  Al  Seddek,  or  the  Testifier  to  the 
Truth,  by  which  he  was  thenceforth  distinguished. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


29 


As  we  have  already  observed,  this  nocturnal 
journey  rests  almost  entirely  upon  tradition, 
though  some  of  its  circumstances  are  vaguely  al- 
luded to  in  the  Koran.  The  whole  may  be  a  tan- 
ciful  superstructure  ot  Moslem  fanatics  on  one  of 
these  visions  or  ecstasies  to  which  Mahomet  was 
prone,  and  the  relation  ot  which  caused  him  to  be 
stigmatized  by  the  Koreishites  as  a  madman. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

MAHOMET  MAKES  CONVERTS  OF  PILGRIMS  FROM 
MEDINA — DETERMINES  TO  FLY  TO  THAT  CITY 
— A  PLOT  TO  SLAY  HIM— HIS  MIRACULOUS 
ESCAPE — HIS  HEGIRA,  OR  FLIGHT — HIS  RECEP- 
TION AT  MEDINA. 

THE  fortunes  of  Mahomet  were  becoming  darker 
and  darker  in  his  native  place.  Cadijah,  his 
original  benefactress,  the  devoted  companion  of 
his  solitude  and  seclusion,  the  zealous  believer  in 
his  doctrines,  was  in  her  grave  ;  so  also  was  Abu 
Taleb,  once  his  faithful  and  efficient  protector. 
Deprived  of  the  sheltering  influence  of  the  latter, 
Mahomet  had  become,  in  a  manner,  an  outlaw  in 
Mecca  ;  obliged  to  conceal  himself,  and  remain  a 
burden  on  the  hospitality  of  those  whom  his  own 
doctrines  had  involved  in  persecution.  If  worldly 
advantage  had  been  his  object,  how  had  it  been 
attained  ?  Upward  of  ten  years  had  elapsed  since 
first  he  announced  his  prophetic  mission  ;  ten 
long  years  of  enmity,  trouble,  and  misfortune. 
Still  he  persevered,  and  now,  at  a  period  of  life 
when  men  seek  to  enjoy  in  repose  the  fruition  of 
the  past,  rather  than  risk  all  in  new  schemes  for 
the  future,  we  find  him,  after  having  sacrificed 
ease,  fortune,  and  friends,  prepared  to  give  up 
home  and  country  also,  rather  than  his  religious 
creed. 

As  soon  as  the  privileged  time  of  pilgrimage  ar- 
rived, he  emerged  once  more  from  his  conceal- 
ment, and  mingled  with  the  multitude  assembled 
from  all  p^rts  of  Arabia.  His  earnest  desire  was 
to  findlteome  powerful  tribe,  or  the  inhabitants  of 
some  important  city,  capable  and  willing  to  re- 
ceive him  as  a  guest,  and  protect  him  in  the  en- 
joyment and  propagation  of  his  faith. 

His  quest  was  for  a  time  unsuccessful.  Those 
who  had  come  to  worship  at  the  Caaba  drew  back 
from  a  man  stigmatized  as  an  apostate  ;  and  the 
worldly-minded  were  unwilling  to  befriend  one 
proscribed  by  the  powerful  of  his  native  place. 

At  length,  as  he  was  one  day  preaching  on  the 
hill  Al  Akaba,  a  little  to  the  north  of  Mecca,  he 
drew  the  attention  of  certain  pilgrims  from  the 
city  of  Yathreb.  This  city,  since  called  Medina, 
was  about  two  hundred  and  seventy  miles  north 
of  Mecca.  Many  of  its  inhabitants  were  Jews  and 
heretical  Christians.  The  pilgrims  in  question 
were  pure  Arabs  of  the  ancient  and  powerful  tribe 
of  Khazradites,  and  in  habits  of  friendly  inter- 
course with  the  Keneedites  and  Naderites,  two 
Jewish  tribes  inhabiting  Mecca  who  claimed  to  be 
of  the  sacerdotal  line  ot  Aaron.  The  pilgrims  had 
often  heard  their  Jewish  friends  explain  the  mys- 
teries of  their  faith,  and  talk  of  an  expected  Mes- 
siah. They  were  moved  by  the  eloquence  of  Ma- 
homet, and  struck  with  the  resemblance  of  his 
doctrines  to  those  of  the  Jewish  law  ;  insomuch 
that  when  they  heard  him  proclaim  himself  a  pro- 
phet, sent  by  heaven  to  restore  the  ancient  faith, 
they  said,  one  to  another,  "  Surely  this  must  be 


the  promised  Messiah  of  which  we  have  been 
told."  The  more  they  listened,  the  stronger  be- 
came their  persuasion  of  the  fact,  until  in  tiie  end 
they  avowed  their  conviction,  and  made  a  final 
profession  of  the  faith. 

As  the  Khazradites  belonged  to  one  of  the  most 
powerful  tribes  of  Yathreb,  Mahomet  sought  to 
secure  their  protection,  and  proposed  to  accom- 
pany them  on  their  return  ;  but  they  informed 
him  that  they  were  at  deadly  feud  with  the 
Awsites,  another  powerful  tribe  of  that  city,  and 
advised  him  to  deter  his  coming  until  they  should 
be  at  peace.  He  consented  ;  but  on  the  return 
home  of  the  pilgrims,  he  sent  with  them  Musab 
Ibn  Omeir,  one  of  the  most  learned  and  able  of 
his  disciples,  with  instructions  to  strengthen  them 
in  the  faith,  and  to  preach  it  to  their  townsmen. 
Thus  were  the  seeds  of  Islamism  first  sown  in  the 
city  of  Medina.  For  a  time  they  thrived  but 
slowly.  Musab  was  opposed  by  the  idolaters,  and 
his  life  threatened  ;  but  he  persisted  in  his  exer- 
tions, and  gradually  made  converts  among  the 
principal  inhabitants.  Among  these  were  Saad 
Ibn  Maads,  a  prince  or  chief  of  the  Awsites,  and 
Osaid  Ibn  Hodheir,  a  man  of  great  authority  in  the 
city.  Numbers  of  the  Moslems  of  Mecca  also, 
driven  away  by  persecution,  took  refuge  in  Me- 
dina, and  aided  in  propagating  the  new  faith 
among  its  inhabitants,  until  it  found  its  way  into 
almost  every  household. 

Feeling  now  assured  of  being  able  to  give  Ma- 
homet an  asylum  in  the  city,  upward  of  seventy  of 
the  converts  of  Medina,  led  by  Musab  Ibn  Omeir, 
repaired  to  Mecca  with  the  pilgrims  in  the  holy 
month  of  the  thirteenth  year  of  "  the  mission,"  to 
invite  him  to  take  up  his  abode  in  their  city.  Ma- 
homet gave  them  a  midnight  meeting  on  the  hill 
Al  Akaba.  His  uncle  Al  Abbas,  who,  like  the 
deceased  Abu  Taleb,  took  an  affectionate  interest 
in  his  welfare,  though  no  convert  to  his  doctrines, 
accompanied  him  to  this  secret  conference,  which 
he  feared  might  lead  him  into  danger.  He  en- 
treated the  pilgrims  from  Medina  not  to  entice  his 
nephew  to  their  city  until  more  able  to  protect 
him  :  warning  them  that  their  open  adoption 
of  the  new  faith  would  bring  all  Arabia  in  arms 
against  them.  His  warnings  and  entreaties  were 
in  vain  :  a  solemn  compact  was  made  between 
the  parties.  Mahomet  demanded  that  they  should 
abjure  idolatry,  and  worship  the  one  true  God 
openly  and  fearlessly.  For  himself  he  exacted 
obedience  in  weal  and  woe  ;  and  for  the  disciples 
who  might  accompany  him,  protection  ;  even  such 
as  they  would  render  to  their  own  wives  and  chil- 
dren. On  these  terms  he  offered  to  bind  himself 
to  remain  among  them,  to  be  the  friend  of  their 
friends,  the  enemy  of  their  enemies.  "  But, 
should  we  perish  in  your  cause,"  asked  they, 
"  what  will  be  our  reward  ?"  "  Paradise  !"  re- 
plied the  prophet. 

The  terms  were  accepted  ;  the  emissaries  from 
Medina  placed  their  hands  in  the  hands  of  Ma- 
homet, and  swore  to  abide  by  the  compact.  The 
latter  then  singled  out  twelve  from  among  them, 
whom  he  designated  as  his  apostles  ;  in  imitation, 
it  is  supposed,  of  the  example  of  our  Saviour. 
Just  then  a  voice  was  heard  from  the  summit  of 
the  hill,  denouncing  them  as  apostates,  and  men- 
acing them  with  punishment.  The  sound  of  this 
voice,  heard  in  the  darkness  of  the  night,  inspired 
temporary  dismay.  "  It  is  the  voice  of  the  fiend 
Iblis,"  said  Mahomet  scornfully  ;  "he  is  the  foe 
of  God  :  tear  him  not."  It  was  probably  the  voice 
of  some  spy  or  eavesdropper  of  the  Koreishites  ; 
for  the  very  next  morning  they  manifested  a 


30 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


knowledge  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the  night  ; 
and  treated  the  new  confederates  with  great  harsh- 
ness as  they  were  departing  from  the  city. 

It  was  this  early  accession  to  the  faith,  and  this 
timely  aid  proffered  and  subsequently  afforded  to 
Mahomet  and  his  disciples,  which  procured  for 
the  Moslems  of  Medina  the  appellation  of  Ansa- 
rians,  or  auxiliaries,  by  which  they  were  afterward 
distinguished. 

After  the  departure  of  the  Ansarians,  and  the 
expiration  of  the  holy  month,  the  persecutions  of 
the  Moslems  were  resumed  with  increased  viru- 
lence, insomuch  that  Mahomet,  seeing  a  crisis 
was  at  hand,  and  being  resolved  to  leave  the  city, 
advised  his  adherents  generally  to  provide  for  their 
safety.  For  himself,  he  still  lingered  in  Mecca 
with  a  few  devoted  followers. 

Abu  Sofian,  his  implacable  foe,  was  at  this  time 
governor  of  the  city.  He  was  both  incensed  and 
alarmed  at  the  spreading  growth  of  the  new  faith, 
and  held  a  meeting  of  the  chief  of  the  Koreishites 
to  devise  some  means  of  effectually  putting  a  stop 
to  it.  Some  advised  that  Mahomet  should  be 
banished  the  city  ;  but  it  was  objected  that  he 
might  gain  other  tribes  to  his  interest,  or  perhaps 
the  people  of  Medina,  and  return  at  their  head  to 
take  his  revenge.  Others  proposed  to  wall  him 
up  in  a  dungeon,  and  supply  him  with  food  until 
he  died  ;  but  it  was  surmised  that  his  friends 
might  effect  his  escape.  All  these  objections 
were  raised  by  a  violent  and  pragmatical  old 
man,  a  stranger  from  the  province  of  Nedja,  who, 
say  the  Moslem  writers,  was  no  other  than  the 
devil  in  disguise,  breathing  his  malignant  spirit 
into  those  present.  At  length  it  was  declared  by 
Abu  Jahl,  that  the  only  effectual  check  on  the 
growing  evil  was  to  put  Mahomet  to  death.  To 
this  all  agreed,  and  as  a  means  of  sharing  the 
odium  oi  the  deed,  and  withstanding  the  ven- 
geance it  might  awaken  among  the  relatives  of 
the  victim,  it  was  arranged  that  a  member  of  each 
family  should  plunge  his  sword  into  the  body  of 
Mahomet. 

It  is  to  this  conspiracy  that  allusion  is  made  in 
the  eighth  chapter  of  the  Koran.  "  And  call  to 
mind  how  the  unbelievers  plotted  against  thee, 
that  they  might  either  detain  thee  in  bonds,  or  put 
thee  to  death,  or  expel  thee  the  city  ;  but  God  laid 
a  plot  against  them  ;  and  God  is  the  best  layer  of 
plots." 

In  fact,  by  the  time  the  murderers  arrived  be- 
fore the  dwelling  of  Mahomet,  he  was  apprised 
of  the  impending  danger.  As  usual,  the  warning 
is  attributed  to  the  angel  Gabriel,  but  it  is  proba- 
ble it  was  given  by  some  Koreishite,  less  bloody- 
minded  than  his  confederates.  It  came  just  in 
time  to  save  Mahomet  from  the  hands  of  his  ene- 
mies. They  paused  at  his  door,  but  hesitated  to 
enter.  Looking  through  a  crevice  they  beheld, 
as  they  thought,  Mahomet  wrapped  in  his  green 
mantle,  and  lying  asleep  on  his  couch.  They 
waited  for  a  while,  consulting  whether  to  fall 
on  him  while  sleeping,  or  wait  until  he 
should  go  forth.  At  length  they  burst  open 
the  door  and  rushed  toward  the  couch.  The 
sleeper  started  up  ;  but,  instead  of  Mahomet,  Ali 
stood  before  them.  Amazed  and  confounded, 
they  demanded,  "  Where  is  Mahomet  ?"  "I 
know  not,"  replied  Ali  sternly,  and  walked  forth  ; 
nor  did  any  one  venture  to  molest  him.  Enraged 
at  the  escape  of  their  victim,  however,  the  Kore- 
ishites proclaimed  a  reward  of  a  hundred  camels 
to  any  one  who  should  bring  them  Mahomet  alive 
or  dead. 

Divers  accounts  are  given  of  the  mode  in  which 


Mahomet  made  his  escape  from  the  house  after 
the  faithful  Ali  had  wrapped  himself  in  his  mantle 
and  taken  his  place  upon  the  couch.  The  most 
miraculous  account  is,  that  he  opened  the  door 
silently,  as  the  Koreishites  stood  before  it,  and, 
scattering  a  handful  of  dust  in  the  air,  cast  such 
blindness  upon  them  that  he  walked  through  the 
midst  of  them  without  being  perceived.  This,  it 
is  added,  is  confirmed  by  the  verse  of  the  3Oth 
chapter  of  the  Koran  :  "  We  have  thrown  blind- 
ness upon  them,  that  they  shall  not  see." 

The  most  probable  account  is,  that  he  clam- 
bered over  the  wall  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  by 
the  help  of  a  servant,  who  bent  his  back  for  him 
to  step  upon  it. 

He  repaired  immediately  to  the  house  of  Abu 
Beker,  and  they  arranged  for  instant  flight.  It 
was  agreed  that  they  should  take  refuge  in  a  cave 
in  Mount  Thor,  about  an  hour's  distance  from 
Mecca,  and  wait  there  until  they  could  proceed 
safely  to  Medina  :  and  in  the  mean  time  the  chil- 
dren of  Abu  Beker  should  secretly  bring  them 
food.  They  left  Mecca  while  it  was  yet  dark, 
making  their  way  on  foot  by  the  light  of  the  stars, 
and  the  day  dawned  as  they  found  themselves  at 
the  foot  of  Mount  Thor.  Scarce  were  they  within 
the  cave  when  they  heard  the  sound  of  pursuit. 
Abu  Beker,  though  a  brave  man,  quaked  with 
fear.  "  Our  pursuers,"  said  he,  "  are  many,  and 
we  are  but  two."  "  Nay,"  replied  Mahomet, 
"  there  is  a  third  ;  God  is  with  us  !"  And  here 
the  Moslem  writers  relate  a  miracle,  dear  to  the 
minds  of  all  true  believers.  By  the  time,  say  they, 
that  the  Koreishites  reached  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern,  an  acacia-tree  had  sprung  up  before  it,  in 
the  spreading  branches  of  which  a  pigeon  had 
made  its  nest,  and  laid  its  eggs,  and  over  the 
whole  a  spider  had  woven  its  web.  When  the 
Koreishites  beheld  these  signs  of  undisturbed 
quiet,  they  concluded  that  no  one  could  recently 
have  entered  the  cavern  ;  so  they  turned  away, 
and  pursued  their  search  in  another  direction. 

Whether  protected  by  miracle  or  not,  the  fugi- 
tives remained  for  three  days  undiscovered  in  the 
cave,  and  Asama,  the  daughter  of  Abu  Beker, 
brought  them  food  in  the  dusk  of  the  evenings. 

On  the  fourth  day,  when  they  presumed  the 
ardor  of  pursuit  had  abated,  the  fugitives  ventured 
forth,  and  set  out  for  Medina,  on  camels  which  a 
servant  of  Au  Beker  had  brought  in  the  night  for 
them.  Avoiding  the  main  road  usually  taken  by 
the  caravans,  they  bent  their  course  nearer  to  the 
coast  of  the  Red  Sea.  They  had  not  proceeded 
far,  however,  before  they  were  overtaken  by  a 
troop  of  horse  headed  by  Soraka  Ibn  Malec.  Abu 
Beker  was  again  dismayed  by  the  number  of  their 
pursuers  ;  but  Mahomet  repeated  the  assurance, 
"Be  not  troubled;  Allah  is  with  us."  Soraka 
was  a  grim  warrior,  with  shagged  iron  gray  locks 
and  naked  sinewy  arms  rough  with  hair.  As  he 
overtook  Mahomet,  his  horse  reared  and  fell  with 
him.  His  superstitious  mind  was  struck  with  it  as 
an  evil  sign.  Mahomet  perceived  the  state  of  his 
feelings,  and  by  an  eloquent  appeal  wrought  upon 
him  to  such  a  degree  that  Soraka,  filled  with  awe, 
entreated  his  forgiveness,  and  turning  back  with 
his  troop  suffered  him  to  proceed  on  his  way  un- 
molested. 

The  fugitives  continued  their  journey  without 
further  interruption,  until  they  arrived  at  Koba,  n 
hill  about  two  miles  from  Medina.  It  was  a  favor- 
ite resort  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city,  and  a 
place  to  which  they  sent  their  sick  and  infirm,  for 
the  air  was  pure  and  salubrious.  Hence,  too,  the 
city  was  supplied  with  fruit ;  the  hill  and  its  en- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


31 


virons  being  covered  with  vineyards,  and  with 
groves  of  the  date  and  lotus  ;  with  gardens  pro- 
ducing citrons,  oranges,  pomegranates,  figs, 
peaches,  and  apricots  ;  and  being  irrigated  with 
limpid  streams. 

On  arriving  at  this  fruitful  spot,  Al  Kasvva,  the 
camel  of  Mahomet,  crouched  on  her  knees,  and 
would  go  no  further.  The  prophet  interpreted  it 
as  a  favorable  sign,  and  determined  to  remain  at 
Koba,  and  prepare  for  entering  the  city.  The 
place  where  his  camel  knelt  is  still  pointed  out  by 
pious  Moslems,  a  mosque  named  Al  Takwa  hav- 
ing been  built  there  to  commemorate  the  circum- 
stance. Some  affirm  that  it  was  actually  founded 
by  the  prophet.  A  deep  well  is  also  shown  in  the 
vicinity,  beside  which  Mahomet  reposed  under  the 
shade  of  the  trees,  and  into  which  he  dropped  his 
seal  ring.  It  is  believed  still  to  remain  there,  and 
has  given  sanctity  to  the  well,  the  waters  of  which 
are  conducted  by  subterraneous  conduits  to  Me- 
dina. At  Koba  he  remained  four  days,  residing 
in  the  house  of  an  Awsite  named  Colthum  Ibn 
Hadem.  While  at  this  village  he  was  joined  by  a 
distinguished  chief,  Boreida  Ibn  Hoseib,  with 
seventy  followers,  all  of  the  tribe  of  Saham.  These 
made  profession  of  faith  between  the  hands  of 
Mahomet. 

Another  renowned  proselyte  who  repaired  to 
the  prophet  at  this  village,  was  Salman  al  Parsi 
(or  the  Persian).  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  native 
of  a  small  place  near  Ispahan,  and  that,  on  pass- 
ing one  day  by  a  Christian  church,  he  was  so 
much  struck  by  the  devotion  of  the  people,  and 
the  solemnity  of  the  worship,  that  he  became  dis- 
gusted with  the  idolatrous  faith  in  which  he  had 
been  brought  up.  He  afterward  wandered  about 
the  east,  from  city  to  city,  and  convent  to  convent, 
in  quest  of  a  religion,  until  an  ancient  monk,  full 
of  years  and  infirmities,  told  him  of  a  prophet  who 
had  arisen  in  Arabia  to  restore  the  pure  faith  of 
Abraham. 

This  Salman  rose  to  power  in  after  years,  and 
was  reputed  by  the  unbelievers  of  Mecca  to  have 
•assisted  Mahomet  in  compiling  his  doctrine.  This 
is  alluded  to  in  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  the  Koran. 
"  Verily,  the  idolaters  say,  that  a  certain  man  as- 
sisted to  compose  the  Koran  ;  but  the  language 
of  this  man  is  Ajami  (or  Persian),  and  the  Koran 
is  indited  in  the  pure  Arabian  tongue."* 

The  Moslems  of  Mecca,  who  had  taken  refuge 
some  time  before  in  Medina,  hearing  that  Ma- 
homet was  at  hand,  came  forth  to  meet  him  at 
Koba  ;  among  these  was  the  early  convert  Talha, 
and  Zobeir,  the  nephew  of  Cadijah.  These,  see- 
ing the  travel-stained  garments  of  Mahomet  and 
Abu  Beker,  gave  them  white  mantles,  with  which 
to  make  their  entrance  into  Medina.  Numbers  of 
the  Ansarians,  or  auxiliaries,  of  Medina,  who  had 
made  their  compact  with  Mahomet  in  the  preced- 
ing year,  now  hastened  to  renew  their  vow  of 
fidelity. 

Learning  from  them  that  the  number  of  prose- 
lytes in  the  city  was  rapidly  augmenting,  and  that 
there  was  a  general  disposition  to  receive  him 
favorably,  he  appointed  Friday,  the  Moslem  sab- 
bath, the  sixteenth  day  of  the  month  Rabi,  tor  his 
public  entrance. 

*  The  renowned  and  learned  Humphrey  Prideaux, 
Doctor  of  Divinity  and  Dean  of  Norwich,  in  his  Life 
of  Mahomet,  confounds  this  Salman  the  Persian  with 
Abdallah  Ibn  Salam,  a  learned  Jew  ;  by  some  called 
Abdias  Ben  Salan  in  the  Hebrew  dialect,  and  by 
others  Abdallah  Salen  ;  who  is  accused  by  Christian 
writers  of  assisting  Mahomet  in  fabricating  his  reve- 
lations. *•«. 


Accordingly  on  the  morning  of  that  day  he  as- 
sembled all  his  followers  to  prayer  ;  and  after  a 
sermon,  in  which  he  expounded  the  main  principles 
of  his  faith,  he  mounted  his  camel  Al  Kaswa,  and 
set  forth  for  that  city,  which  was  to  become  re- 
nowned in  after  ages  as  his  city  of  refuge. 

Boreida  Ibn  al  Hoseib,  with  his  seventy  horse- 
men of  the  tribe  of  Saham,  accompanied  him  as  a 
guard.  Some  of  the  disciples  took  turns  to  hold 
a  canopy  of  palm-leaves  over  his  head,  and  by  his 
side  rode  Abu  Beker.  "Oh  apostle  of  God  !" 
cried  Boreida,  "  thou  shalt  not  enter  Medina  with- 
out a  standard  ;"  so  saying,  heunfolcled  his  tur- 
ban, and  tying  one  end  of  it  to  the  point  of  his 
lance,  bore  it  aloft  before  the  prophet. 

The  city  of  Medina  was  fair  to  approach,  being 
extolled  for  beauty  of  situation,  salubrity  of  cli- 
mate, and  fertility  of  soil  ;  for  the  luxuriance  of 
its  palm-trees,  and  the  fragrance  of  its  shrubs  and 
flowers.  At  a  short  distance  from  the  city  a 
crowd  of  new  proselytes  to  the  faith  came  forth 
in  sun  and  dust  to  meet  the  cavalcade.  Most  of 
them  had  never  seen  Mahomet,  and  paid  rever- 
ence to  Abu  Beker  through  mistake  ;  but  the  lat- 
ter put  aside  the  screen  of  palm-leaves,  and  point- 
ed out  the  real  object  of  homage,  who  was  greeted 
with  loud  acclamations. 

In  this  way  did  Mahomet,  so  recently  a  lugitive 
from  his  native  city,  with  a  price  upon  his  head, 
enter  Medina,  more  as  a  conqueror  in  triumph 
than  an  exile  seeking  an  asylum.  He  alighted  at 
the  house  of  a  Khazradite,  named  Abu  Ayub,  a 
devout  Moslem,  to  whom  moreover  he  was  dis- 
tantly related  ;  here  he  was  hospitably  received, 
and  took  up  his  abode  in  the  basement  story. 

Shortly  after  his  arrival  he  was  joined  by  the 
faithful  Ali,  who  had  fled  from  Mecca,  and  jour- 
neyed on  foot,  hiding  himself  in  the  day  and 
travelling  only  at  night,  lest  he  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  Koreishites.  He  arrived  weary 
and  wayworn,  his  feet  bleeding  with  the  rough- 
ness of  the  journey. 

Within  a  few  days  more  came  Ayesha,  and  the 
rest  of  Abu  Beker's  household,  together  with  the 
family  of  Mahomet,  conducted  by  his  faithful  freed- 
man  Zeid,  and  by  Abu  Beker's  servant  Abdallah. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  memorable  Hegira,  or 
"  Flight  of  the  prophet" — the  era  of  the  Arabian 
kalendar  from  which  time  is  calculated  by  all  true 
Moslems  :  it  corresponds  to  the  622d  year  of  the 
Christian  era. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

MOSLEMS  IN  MEDINA,  MOHADJERINS  AND  ANSA- 
RIANS— THE  PARTY  OF  ABDALLAH  IBN  OBBA 
AND  THE  HYPOCRITES — MAHOMET  BUILDS  A 
MOSQUE,  PREACHES,  MAKES  CONVERTS  AMONG 
THE  CHRISTIANS — THE  JEWS  SLOW  TO  BELIEVE 
— BROTHERHOOD  ESTABLISHED  BETWEEN  FUGI- 
TIVES AND  ALLIES. 

MAHOMET  soon  found  himself  at  the  head  of  a 
numerous  and  powerlul  sect  in  Medina  ;  partly 
made  up  of  those  of  his  disciples  who  had  fled 
from  Mecca,  and  were  thence  called  Mohadjerins 
or  Fugitives,  and  partly  of  inhabitants  of  the 
place,  who  on  joining  the  faith  were  called  Ansa- 
rians or  Auxiliaries.  Most  of  these  latter  were  of 
the  powerful  tribes  of  the  Awsites  and  Khazra- 
dites,  which,  though  descended  from  two  brothers, 
Al  Aws  and  Al  Khazraj,  had  for  a  hundred  and 
twenty  years  distracted  Medina  by  their  inveterate 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS    SUCCESSORS. 


and  mortal  feuds,  but  had  now  become  united  in 
the  bonds  of  faith.  With  such  of  these  tribes  as 
did  not  immediately  adopt  his  doctrines  he  made  a 
covenant. 

The  Khazradites  were  very  much  under  the 
sway  of  a  prince  or  chief,  named  Abdallah  Ibn 
Obba  ;  who,  it  is  said,  was  on  the  point  of  being 
made  king,  when  the  arrival  of  Mahomet  and  the 
excitement  caused  by  his  doctrines  gave  the  popu- 
lar feeling  a  new  direction.  Abdallah  was  stately 
in  person,  of  a  graceful  demeanor,  and  ready  and 
eloquent  tongue  ;  he  professed  great  friendship 
for  Mahomet,  and  with  several  companions  of  his 
own  type  and  character,  used  to  attend  the  meet- 
ings of  the  Moslems.  Mahomet  was  captivated 
at  first  by  their  personal  appearance,  their  plausi- 
ble conversation,  and  their  apparent  deference  ; 
but  he  iound  in  the  end  that  Abdallah  was  jealous 
of  his  popularity  and  cherished  secret  animosity 
against  him,  and  that  his  companions  were  equally 
false  in  their  pretended  friendship  ;  hence,  he 
stamped  them  with  the  name  of  "  The  Hypo- 
crites." Abdallah  Ibn  Obba  long  continued  his 
political  rival  in  Medina. 

Being  now  enabled  publicly  to  exercise  his  faith 
and  preach  his  doctrines,  Mahomet  proceeded  to 
erect  a  mosque.  The  place  chosen  was  a  grave- 
yard or  burying-ground,  shaded  by  date-trees. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  guided  in  his  choice  by 
what  he  considered  a  favorable  omen  ;  his  camel 
having  knelt  opposite  to  this  place  on  his  public 
entry  into  the  city.  The  dead  were  removed,  and 
the  trees  cut  down  to  make  way  for  the  intended 
edifice.  It  was  simple  in  form  and  structure, 
suited  to  the  unostentatious  religion  which  he  pro- 
fessed, and  to  the  scanty  and  precarious  means  of 
its  votaries.  The  walls  were  of  earth  and  brick  ; 
the  trunks  of  the  palm-trees  recently  felled,  served 
as  pillars  to  support  the  roof,  which  was  framed 
of  their  branches  and  thatched  with  their  leaves. 
It  was  about  a  hundred  ells  square,  and  had  three 
doors  ;  one  to  the  south,  where  the  Kebla  was 
afterward  established,  another  called  the  gate  of 
Gabriel,  and  the  third  the  gate  of  Mercy.  A  part 
of  the  edifice,  called  Soffat,  was  assigned  as  a 
habitation  to  such  of  the  believers  as  were  without 
a  home. 

Mahomet  assisted  with  his  own  hands  in  the 
construction  of  this  mosque.  With  all  his  fore- 
knowledge, he  little  thought  that  he  was  building 
his  own  tomb  and  monument  ;  for  in  that  edifice 
his  remains  are  deposited.  It  has  in  after  times 
been  repeatedly  enlarged  and  beautified,  but  still 
bears  the  name  Mesjed  al  Nebi  (the  Mosque  of  the 
Prophet),  from  having  been  founded  by  his  hands. 
He  was  for  some  time  at  a  loss  in  what  manner 
his  followers  should  be  summoned  to  their  devo- 
tions ;  whether  with  the  sound  of  trumpets,  as 
among  the  Jews,  or  by  lighting  fires  on  high 
places,  or  by  the  striking  of  timbrels.  While  in 
this  perplexity,  a  form  of  words  to  be  cried  aloud 
was  suggested  by  Abdallah,  the  son  of  Zeid,  who 
declared  that  it  was  revealed  to  him  in  a  vision. 
It  was  instantly  adopted  by  Mahomet,  and  such  is 
given  as  the  origin  of  the  following  summons, 
which  is  to  this  day  heard  from  the  lofty  minarets 
throughout  the  East,  calling  the  Moslems  to  the 
place  of  worship  :  "  God  is  great  !  God  is  great  ! 
There  is  no  God  but  Gocl.  Mahomet  is  the  apos- 
tle of  God.  Come  to  prayers  !  come  to  prayers  ! 
God  is  great  !  God  is  great  !  There  is  no  God  but 
God."  To  which  at  dawn  of  day  is  added  the  ex- 
hortation, "  Prayer  is  better  than  sleep  !  Prayer 
is  better  than  sleep  !" 

Everything  in  this  humble  mosque  was  at  first 


conducted  with  great  simplicity.  At  night  it  was 
lighted  up  by  splinters  of  the  date-tree  ;  and  it 
was  some  time  before  lamps  and  oil  were  intro- 
duced. The  prophet  stood  on  the  ground  and 
preached,  leaning  with  his  back  against  the  trunk 
of  one  of  the  date-trees,  which  served  as  pillars. 
He  afterward  -had  a  pulpit  or  tribune  erected,  to 
which  he  ascended  by  three  steps,  so  as  to  be  ele- 
vated above  the  congregation.  Tradition  asserts, 
that  when  he  first  ascended  this  pulpit,  the  de- 
serted date-tree  uttered  a  groan  ;  whereupon,  as  a 
consolation,  he  gave  it  the  choice  either  to  be 
transplanted  to  a  garden  again  to  flourish,  or  to 
be  transferred  to  paradise,  there  to  yield  fruit,  in 
after  life,  to  true  believers.  The  date-tree  wisely 
chose  the  latter,  and  was  subsequently  buried  be- 
neath the  pulpit,  there  to  await  its  blissful  resur- 
rection. 

Mahomet  preached  and  prayed  in  the  pulpit, 
sometimes  sitting,  sometimes  standing  and  lean- 
ing on  a  staff.  His  precepts  as  yet  were  all 
peaceful  and  benignant,  inculcating  devotion  to 
God  and  humanity  to  man.  He  seems  to  have 
emulated  for  a  time  the  benignity  of  the  Christian 
faith.  "  He  who  is  not  affectionate  to  God's  creat- 
ures, and  to  his  own  children,"  would  he  say, 
"  God  will  not  be  affectionate  to  him.  Every 
Moslem  who  clothes  the  naked  of  his  faith,  will 
be  clothed  by  Allah  in  the  green  robes  of  para- 
dise." 

In  one  of  his  traditional  sermons,  transmitted 
by  his  disciples,  is  the  following  apologue  on  the 
subject  of  charity  :  "  When  God  created  the  earth 
it  shook  and  trembled,  until  he  put  mountains 
upon  it,  to  make  it  firm.  Then  the  angels  asked, 
'  Oh,  God,  is  there  anything  of  thy  creation 
stronger  than  these  mountains  ?  '  And  God  re- 
plied, '  Iron  is  stronger  than  the  mountains  ;  for 
it  breaks  them.'  '  And  is  there  anything  of  thy 
creation  stronger  than  iron  ?  '  '  Yes  ;  fire  is 
stronger  than  iron,  for  it  melts  it.'  '  Is  there  any- 
thing of  thy  creation  stronger  than  fire  ?  '  '  Yes  ; 
water,  for  it  quenches  fire.'  'Oh  Lord,  is  there 
anything  of  thy  creation  stronger  than  water  ?  ' ' 
'  Yes,  wind  ;  for  it  overcomes  water  and  puts  it  in 
.motion.'  '  Oh,  our  Sustainer  !  is  there  anything 
of  thy  creation  stronger  than  wind  ?  '  '  Yes,  a 
good  man  giving  alms  ;  if  he  give  with  his  right 
hand  and  conceal  it  from  his  left,  he  overcomes 
all  things.' 

His  definition  of  charity  embraced  the  wide  cir- 
cle of  kindness.  Every  good  act,  he  would  say,  is 
charity.  Your  smiling  in  your  brother's  face  is 
charity  ;  an  exhortation  of  your  fellow  man  to  vir- 
tuous deeds  is  equal  to  alms-giving  ;  your  putting 
a  wanderer  in  the  right  road  is  charity  ;  your  as- 
sisting the  blind  is  charity  ;  your  removing  stones 
and  thorns  and  other  obstructions  from  the  road 
is  charity  ;  your  giving  water  to  the  thirsty  is 
charity. 

"  A  man's  true  wealth  hereafter  is  the  good  he 
does  in  this  world  to  his  fellow  man.  When  he 
dies,  people  will  say,  What  property  has  he  left 
behind  him  ?  But  the  angels,  who  examine  him 
in  the  grave,  will  ask,  '  What  good  deeds  hast 
thou  sent  before  thee  ?  ' ' 

"  Oh  prophet  !"  said  one  of  his  disciples,  "  my 
mother,  Omm-Sad,  is  dead  ;  what  is  the  best 
alms  I  can  send  for  the  good  of  her  soul  ?" 
*'  Water  !"  replied  Mahomet,  bethinking  himself 
of  the  panting  heats  of  the  desert.  "  Dig  a  well 
for  her,  and  give  water  to  the  thirsty."  The  man 
digged  a  well  in  his  mother's  name,  and  said, 
"  This  well  is  for  my  mother,  that  its  rewards  may- 
reach  her  soul." 


.    • 

' 

ff1r* 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


33 


Charity  of  the  tongue  also,  that  most  important 
and  least  cultivated  of  charities,  was  likewise 
earnestly  inculcated  by  Mahomet.  Abu  Jaraiya, 
an  inhabitant  of  Basrah,  coming  to  Medina,  and 
being  persuaded  of  the  apostolical  office  of  Ma- 
homet, entreated  him  some  great  rule  of  conduct. 
'  Speak  evil  of  no  one,"  answered  the  prophet. 
"From  that  time,"  says  Abu  Jaraiya,  "  I  never 
did  abuse  any  one,  whether  freeman  or  slave." 

The  rules  of  Islamism  extended  to  the  court- 
esies of  life.  Make  a  salam  (or  salutation^  to  a 
house  on  entering  and  leaving  it.  Return  the 
salute  of  friends  and  acquaintances,  and  way- 
farers on  the  road.  He  who  rides  must  be  the 
first  to  make  the  salute  to  him  who  walks  ;  he 
who  walks  to  him  who  is  sitting  ;  a  small  party  to 
a  large  party,  and  the  young  to  the  old. 

On  the  arrival  of  Mahomet  at  Medina,  some  of 
the  Christians  of  the  city  promptly  enrolled  them- 
selves among  his  followers  ;  they  were  probably 
of  those  sectarians  who  held  to  the  human  nature 
of  Christ,  and  found  nothing  repugnant  in  Islam- 
ism  ;  which  venerated  Christ  as  the  greatest 
among  the  prophets.  The  rest  of  the  Christians 
resident  there  showed  but  little  hostility  to  the 
new  faith,  considering  it  far  better  than'  the  old 
idolatry.  Indeed,  the  schisms  and  bitter  dissen- 
sions among  the  Christians  of  the  East  had  im- 
paired their  orthodoxy,  weakened  their  zeal,  and 
disposed  them  easily  to  be  led  away  by  new  doc- 
trines. 

The  Jews,  of  which  there  were  rich  and  power- 
ful families  in  Medina  and  its  vicinity,  showed  a 
less  favorable  disposition.  With  some  of  them 
Mahomet  made  covenants  of  peace,  and  trusted  to 
gain  them  in  time  to  accept  him  as  their  promised 
Messiah  or  prophet.  Biassed,  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously, by  such  views,  he  had  modelled  many  of 
his  doctrines  on  the  dogmas  of  their  religion,  and 
observed  certain  of  their  fasts  and  ordinances. 
He  allowed  such  as  embraced  Islamism  to  con- 
tinue in  the  observance  of  their  Sabbath,  and  of 
several  of  the  Mosaic  laws  and  ceremonies.  It 
was  the  custom  of  the  different  religions  of  the 
East,  to  have  each  a  Kebla  or  sacred  point  tow- 
ard which  they  turned  their  faces  in  the  act  of 
adoration  ;  the  Sabeans  toward  the  north  star  ; 
the  Persian  fire-worshippers  toward  the  east,  the 
place  of  the  rising  sun  ;  the  Jews  toward  their 
holy  city  of  Jerusalem.  Hitherto  Mahomet  had 
prescribed  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  but  now,  out  of 
deference  to  the  Jews,  he  made  Jerusalem  the 
Kebla,  toward  which  all  Moslems  were  to  turn 
their  faces  when  in  prayer. 

While  new  converts  were  daily  made  among 
the  inhabitants  of  Medina,  sickness  and  discon- 
tent began  to  prevail  among  the  fugitives  from 
Mecca.  They  were  not  accustomed  to  the  cli- 
mate ;  many  suffered  from  fevers,  and  in  their 
sickness  and  debility  languished  after  the  home 
whence  they  were  exiled. 

To  give  them  a  new  home,  and  link  them 
closely  with  their  new  friends  and  allies,  Ma- 
homet established  a  brotherhood  between  fifty- 
four  of  them  and  as  many  of  the  inhabitants  of 
Medina.  Two  persons  thus  linked  together  were 
pledged  to  stand  by  each  other  in  weal  and  woe  ; 
it  was  a  tie,  which  knit  their  interests  more  close- 
ly even  than  that  of  kindred,  for  they  were  to  be 
heirs  to  each  other  in  preference  to  blood  rela- 
tions. 

This  institution  was  one  of  expediency,  and 
lasted  only  until  the  new  comers  had  taken  firm 
root  in  Medina  ;  extended  merely  to  those  of  the 
people  of  Mecca  who  had  fled  from  persecution  ; 


and  is  alluded  to  in  the  following  verse  of  the 
eighth  chapter  of  the  Koran:  "  They  who  have 
believed  and  have  fled  their  country,  and  em- 
ployed their  substance  and  their  persons  in  fight- 
ing for  the  faith,  and  they  who  have  given  the 
prophet  a  refuge  among  them,  and  have  assisted 
him,  these  shall  be  deemed  the  one  nearest  of  kin 
to  the  other." 

In  this  shrewd  but  simple  way  were  laid  the 
foundations  of  that  power  which  was  soon  to  at- 
tain stupendous  strength,  and  to  shake  the  might- 
iest empires  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

MARRIAGE  OF  MAHOMET  WITH  AYESHA — OF  HIS 
DAUGHTER  FATIMA  WITH  ALI — THEIR  HOUSE- 
HOLD ARRANGEMENTS. 

THE  family  relations  of  Mahomet  had  been 
much  broken  up  by  the  hostility  brought  upon 
him  by  his  religious  zeal.  His  daughter  Rokaia 
was  still  an  exile  with  her  husband,  Othman  Ibn 
Affan,  in  Abyssinia  ;  his  daughter  Zeinab  had  re- 
mained in  Mecca  with  her  husband,  Abul  Aass, 
who  was  a  stubborn  opposer  of  the  new  faith. 
The  family  with  Mahomet  in  Medina  consisted  of 
his  recently  wedded  wife  Sawda,  and  Fatima, 
and  Um  Colthum,  daughters  of  his  late  wife  Ca- 
dijah.  He  had  a  heart  prone  to  affection,  and 
subject  to  female  influence,  but  he  had  never  en- 
tertained much  love  for  Sawda  ;  and  though  he 
always  treated  her  with  kindness,  he  felt  the  want 
of  some  one  to  supply  the  place  of  his  deceased 
wife  Cadjiah. 

"Oh  Omar,"  said  he  one  day,  "the  best  of 
man's  treasures  is  a  virtuous  woman,  who  acts  by 
God's  orders,  and  is  obedient  and  pleasing  to  her 
husband  :  he  regards  her  personal  and  mental 
beauties  with  delight  ;  when  he  orders  her  to  do 
anything  she  obeys  him  ;  and  when  he  is  absent 
she  guards  his  right  in  property  in  honor." 

He  now  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  betrothed 
spouse  Ayesha,  the  beautiful  daughter  of  Abu 
Beker.  Two  years  had  elapsed  since  they  vere 
betrothed,  and  she  had  now  attained  her  ninth 
year  ;  an  infantine  age,  it  would  seem,  though 
the  female  form  is  wonderfully  precocious  in  the 
quickening  climates  of  the  East.  Their  nuptials 
took  place  a  few  months  after  their  arrival  in  Me- 
dina, and  were  celebrated  with  great  simplicity  ; 
the  wedding  supper  was  of  milk,  and  the  dowry 
of  the  bride  was  twelve  okk  of  silver. 

The  betrothing  of  Fatima,  his  youngest 
daughter,  with  his  loyal  disciple  AH,  followed 
shortly  after,  and  their  marriage  at  a  somewhat 
later  period.  Fatima  was  between  fifteen  and 
sixteen  years  of  age,  of  great  beauty,  and  extolled 
by  Arabian  writers  as  one  of  the  four  perfect 
women  with  whom  Allah  has  deigned  to  bless  the 
earth.  The  age  of  AH  was  about  twenty-two. 

Heaven  and  earth,  say  the  Moslem  writers, 
joined  in  paying  honor  to  these  happy  espousals. 
Medina  resounded  with  festivity,  and  blazed  with 
illuminations,  and  the  atmosphere  was  laden  with 
aromatic  odors.  As  Mahomet,  on  the  nuptial 
night,  conducted  his  daughter  to  her  bridegroom, 
heaven  sent  down  a  celestial  pomp  to  attend  her  : 
on  her  right  hand  was  the  archangel  Gabriel,  on 
her  lett  was  Michael,  and  she  was  followed  by  a 
train  of  seventy  thousand  angels,  who  all  night 
kept  watch  round  the  mansion  of  the  youthful 
pair. 


34 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Such  are  the  vaunting  exaggerations  with  which 
Moslem  writers  are  prone  to  overlay  every  event 
in  the  history  of  the  prophet,  and  destroy  the  real 
grandeur  of  his  career,  which  consists  in  its  sim- 
plicity. A  more  reliable  account  states  that  the 
wedding  feast  was  of  dates  and  olives  ;  that  the 
nuptial  couch  was  a  sheep-skin  ;  that  the  portion 
of  the  bride  consisted  of  two  skirts,  one  head-tire, 
two  silver  armlets,  one  leathern  pillow  stuffed 
with  palm-leaves,  one  beaker  or  drinking  cup, 
one  hand-mill,  two  large  jars  for  water,  and  one 
pitcher.  All  this  was  in  unison  with  the  sim- 
plicity of  Arab  housekeeping,  and  with  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  married  couple  ;  and  to  raise 
the  dowry  required  of  him,  Ali,  it  is  said,  had  to 
sell  several  camels  and  some  shirts  of  mail. 

The  style  of  living  of  the  prophet  himself  was 
not  superior  to  that  of  his  disciple.  Ayesha, 
speaking  of  it  in  after  years,  observed  :  "  For  a 
whole  month  together  we  did  not  light  a  fire  to 
dress  victuals  ;  our  food  was  nothing  but  dates 
and  water,  unless  any  one  sent  us  meat.  The 
people  of  the  prophet's  household  never  got  wheat 
bread  two  successive  days." 

His  food,  in  general,  was  dates  and  barley- 
bread,  with  milk  and  honey.  He  swept  his 
chamber,  lit  his  fire,  mended  his  clothes,  and 
was,  in  fact,  his  own  servant.  For  each  of  his 
two  wives  he  provided  a  separate  house  adjoining 
the  mosque.  He  resided  with  them  by  turns,  but 
Ayesha  ever  remained  his  favorite. 

Mahomet  has  been  extolled  by  Moslem  writers 
for  the  chastity  of  his  early  life  ;  and  it  is  remark- 
able that,  with  all  the  plurality  of  wives  indulged 
in  by  the  Arabs,  and  which  he  permitted  himself 
in  subsequent  years,  and  with  all  that  constitu- 
tional fondness  which  he  evinced  for  the  sex,  he 
remained  single  in  his  devotion  to  Cadijah  to  her 
dying  day,  never  giving  her  a  rival  in  his  house 
nor  in  his  heart.  Even  the  fresh  and  budding 
charms  of  Ayesha,  which  soon  assumed  such  em- 
pire over  him,  could  not  obliterate  the  deep  and 
mingled  feeling  of  tenderness  and  gratitude  for 
his  early  benefactress.  Ayesha  was  piqued  one 
day  at  hearing  him  indulge  in  these  fond  recol- 
lections :  "Oh  apostle  of  God,"  demanded  the 
youthful  beauty,  "  was  not  Cadijah  stricken  in 
years  ?  Has  not  Allah  given  thee  a  better  wife  in 
her  stead  ?' ' 

"  Never  !"  exclaimed  Mahomet,  with  an  honest 
burst  of  feeling — "  never  did  God  give  me  a  better  ! 
When  I  was  poor,  she  enriched  me  ;  when  I  was 
pronounced  a  liar,  she  believed  in  me  ;  when  I 
was  opposed  by  all  the  world,  she  remained  true 
to  me  !" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  SWORD  ANNOUNCED  AS  THE  INSTRUMENT 
OF  FAITH— FIRST  FORAY  AGAINST  THE  KOREI- 
SHITES— SURPRISAL  OF  A  CARAVAN. 

WE  come  now  to  an  important  era  in  the  career 
of  Mahomet.  Hitherto  he  had  relied  on  argu- 
ment and  persuasion  to  make  proselytes,  enjoin- 
ing the  same  on  his  disciples.  His  exhortations 
to  them  to  bear  with  patience  and  long-suffering 
the  violence  of  their  enemies,  almost  emulated 
the  meek  precept  of  our  Saviour,  "  if  they  smite 
thee  on  the  one  cheek,  turn  to  them  the  other  also." 
He  now  arrived  at  a  point  where  he  completely 
diverged  from  the  celestial.spirit  of  the  Christian 
doctrines,  and  stamped  his  religion  with  the  alloy 
of  fallible  mortality.  His  human  nature  was  not 


capable  of  maintaining  the  sublime  forbearance 
he  had  hitherto  inculcated.  Thirteen  years  of 
meek  endurance  had  been  rewarded  by  nothing 
but  aggravated  injury  and  insult.  His  greatest 
persecutors  had  been  those  of  his  own  tribe,  the 
Koreishites,  especially  those  of  the  rival  line  of 
Abd  Schems,  whose  vindictive  chief,  Abu  Sofian, 
had  now  the  sway  of  Mecca.  By  their  virulent 
hostility  his  fortunes  had  been  blasted  ;  his  family 
degraded,  impoverished,  and  dispersed,  and  he 
himself  driven  into  exile.  All  this  he  might  have 
continued  to  bear  with  involuntary  meekness,  had 
not  the  means  of  retaliation  unexpectedly  sprung 
up  within  his  reach.  He  had  come  to  Medina  a 
fugitive  seeking  an  asylum,  and  craving  merely  a 
quiet  home.  In  a  little  while,  and  probably  to 
his  own  surprise,  he  found  an  army  at  his  com- 
mand :  for  among  the  many  converts  daily  made 
in  Medina,  the  fugitives  flocking  to  him  from 
Mecca,  and  proselytes  from  the  tribes  of  the  des- 
ert, were  men  of  resolute  spirit,  skilled  in  the  use 
of  arms,  and  fond  of  partisan  warfare.  Human 
passions  and  mortal  resentments  were  awakened 
by  this  sudden  accession  of  power.  They  mingled 
with  that  zeal  for  religious  reform,  which  was  still 
his  predominant  motive.  In  the  exaltations  of 
his  enthusiastic  spirit  he  endeavored  to  persuade 
himself,  and  perhaps  did  so  effectually,  that  the 
power  thus  placed  within  his  reach  was  intended 
as  a  means  of  effecting  his  great  purpose,  and 
that  he  was  called  upon  by  divine  command  to 
use  it.  Such  at  least  is  the  purport  of  the  mem- 
orable manifesto  which  he  issued  at  this  epoch, 
and  which  changed  the  whole  tone  and  fortunes  of 
his  faith. 

"  Different  prophets,"  said  he,  "  have  been 
sent  by  God  to  illustrate  his  different  attributes  : 
Moses  his  clemency  and  providence  ;  Solomon 
his  wisdom,  majesty,  and  glory  ;  Jesus  Christ  his 
righteousness,  omniscience,  and  power  —  his 
righteousness  by  purity  of  conduct  ;  his  omnisci- 
ence by  the  knowledge  he  displayed  of  the  secrets 
of  all  hearts  ;  his  power  by  the  miracles  he 
wrought.  None  of  these  attributes,  however,  have 
been  sufficient  to  enforce  conviction,  and  even 
the  miracles  of  Moses  and  Jesus  have  been  treat- 
ed with  unbelief.  I,  therefore,  the  last  of  the 
prophets,  am  sent  with  the  sword  !  Let  those 
who  promulgate  my  faith  enter  into  no  argument 
nor  discussion,  but  slay  all  who  refuse  obedience 
to  the  law.  Whoever  fights  for  the  true  faith, 
whether  he  fall  or  conquer,  will  assuredly  receive 
a  glorious  reward." 

"  The  sword,"  added  he,  "  is  the  key  of  heaven 
and  hell  ;  all  who  draw  it  in  the  cause  of  the  faith 
will  be  rewarded  with  temporal  advantages  ; 
every  drop  shed  of  their  blood,  every  peril  and 
hardship  endured  by  them,  will  be  registered  on 
high  as  more  meritorious  than  even  fasting  or 
praying.  If  they  fall  in  battle  their  sins  will  at 
once  be  blotted  out,  and  they  will  be  transported 
to  paradise,  there  to  revel  in  eternal  pleasures  in 
the  arms  of  black-eyed  houris." 

Predestination  was  brought  to  aid  these  bellig- 
erent doctrines.  Every  event,  according  to  the 
Koran,  was  predestined  from  eternity,  and  could 
not  be  avoided.  No  man  could  die  sooner  or 
later  than  his  allotted  hour,  and  when  it  arrived 
it  would  be  the  same,  whether  the  angel  of  death 
should  find  him  in  the  quiet  of  his  bed,  or  amid 
the  storm  of  battle. 

Such  were  the  doctrines  and  revelations  which 
converted  Islamism  of  a  sudden  from  a  religion  of 
meekness  and  philanthropy,  to  one  of  violence 
and  the  sword.  They  were  peculiarly  acceptable 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


35 


to  the  Arabs,  harmonizing  with  their  habits,  and 
encouraging  their  predatory  propensities.  Vir- 
tually pirates  of  the  desert,  it  is  not  to  be  won- 
dered at  that,  after  this  open  promulgation  of  the 
Religion  of  the  Sword,  they  should  flock  in 
crowds  to  the  standard  of  the  prophet.  Still  no 
violence  was  authorized  by  Mahomet  against  those 
who  should  persist  in  unbelief,  provided  they 
should  readily  submit  to  his  temporal  sway,  and 
agree  to  pay  tribute  ;  and  here  we  see  the  first 
indication  of  worldly  ambition  and  a  desire  for 
temporal  dominion  dawning  upon  his  mind.  Still 
it  will  be  found  that  the  tribute  thus  exacted  was 
subsidiary  to  his  ruling  passion,  and  mainly  ex- 
pended by  him  in  the  extension  of  the  faith. 

The  first  warlike  enterprises  of  Mahomet  betray 
the  lurking  resentment  we  have  noted.  They 
were  directed  against  the  caravans  of  Mecca,  be- 
longing to  his  implacable  enemies  the  Koreishites. 
The  three  first  were  headed  by  Mahomet  in  per- 
son, but  without  any  material  result.  The  fourth 
was  confided  to  a  Moslem,  named  Abdallah  Ibn 
Jasch  ;  who  was  sent  out  with  eight  or  ten  reso- 
lute followers  on  the  road  toward  South  Arabia. 
As  it  was  now  the  holy  month  of  Radjab,  sacred 
from  violence  and  rapine,  Abdallah  had  sealed 
orders,  not  to  be  opened  until  the  third  day. 
These  orders  were  vaguely  yet  significantly  word- 
ed. Abdallah  was  to  repair  to  the  valley  of 
Naklah,  between  Mecca  and  Tayef  (the  same  in 
which  Mahomet  had  the  revelation  of  the  Genii), 
where  he  was  to  watch  for  an  expected  caravan  of 
the  Koreishites.  "  Perhaps,"  added  the  letter  of 
instructions  shrewdly — "  perhaps  thou  mayest  be 
able  to  bring  us  some  tidings  of  it." 

Abdallah  understood  the  true  meaning  of  the 
letter,  and  acted  up  to  it.  Arriving  in  the  valley 
of  Naklah,  he  descried  the  caravan,  consisting  of 
several  camels  laden  with  merchandise,  and  con- 
ducted by  four  men.  Following  it  at  a  distance, 
he  sent  one  of  his  men,  disguised  as  a  pilgrim,  to 
overtake  it.  From  the  words  of  the  latter  the  Kore- 
ishites supposed  his  companions  to  be  like  himself, 
pilgrims  bound  to  Mecca.  Besides,  it  was  the 
month  of  Radjab,  when  the  desert  might  be  trav- 
elled in  security.  Scarce  had  they  come  to  a 
halt,  however,  when  Abdallah  and  his  comrades 
fell  on  them,  killed  one,  and  took  two  prisoners  ; 
the  fourth  escaped.  The  victors  then  returned  to 
Medina  with  their  prisoners  and  booty. 

All  Medina  was  scandalized  at  this  breach  of 
the  holy  month.  Mahomet,  finding  that  he  had 
ventured  too  far,  pretended  to  be  angry  with  Ab- 
dallah, and  refused  to  take  the  share  of  the  booty 
offered  to  him.  Confiding  in  the  vagueness  of  his 
instructions,  he  insisted  that  he  had  not  com- 
manded Abdallah  to  shed  blood,  or  commit  any 
violence  during  the  holy  month. 

The  clamor  still  continuing,  and  being  echoed 
by  the  Koreishites  of  Mecca,  produced  the  follow- 
ing passage  of  the  Koran  : 

"They  will  ask  thee  concerning  the  sacred 
month,  whether  they  may  make  war  therein.  An- 
swer :  To  war  therein  is  grievous  ;  but  to  deny 
God,  to  bar  the  path  of  God  against  his  people,  to 
drive  true  believers  from  his  holy  temple,  and  to 
worship  idols,  are  sins  far  more  grievous  than  to 
kill  in  the  holy  months." 

Having  thus  proclaimed  divine  sanction  for  the 
deed,  Mahomet  no  longer  hesitated  to  take  his 
share  of  the  booty.  He  delivered  one  of  the  pris- 
oners on  ransom  ;  the  other  embraced  Islamism. 

The  above  passage  of  the  Koran,  however  sat- 
isfactory it  may  have  been  to  devout  Moslems, 
will  scarcely  serve  to  exculpate  their  prophet  in  the 


eyes  of  the  profane.  The  expedition  of  Abdallah 
Ibn  Jasch  was  a  sad  practical  illustration  of  the 
new  religion  of  the  sword.  It  contemplated  not 
merely  an  act  of  plunder  and  revenge,  a  venial 
act  in  the  eyes  of  Arabs,  and  justified  by  the  new 
doctrines  by  being  exercised  against  the  enemies 
of  the  faith,  but  an  outrage  also  on  the  holy 
month,  that  period  sacred  from  time  immemorial 
against  violence  and  bloodshed,  and  which  Ma- 
homet himself  professed  to  hold  in  reverence. 
The  craft  and  secrecy  also  with  which  the  whole 
was  devised  and  conducted,  the  sealed  letter  of 
instructions  to  Abdallah,  to  be  opened  only  at  the 
end  of  three  days,  at  the  scene  of  projected  out- 
rage, and  couched  in  language  vague,  equivocal, 
yet  sufficiently  significant  to  the  agent — all  were 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  conduct  of  Mahomet  in 
the  earlier  part  of  his  career,  when  he  dared 
openly  to  pursue  the  path  of  duty,  "  though  the 
sun  should  be  arrayed  against  him  on  the  right 
hand,  and  the  moon  on  the  left  ;"  all  showed  that 
he  was  conscious  of  the  turpitude  of  the  act  he 
was  authorizing.  His  disavowal  of  the  violence 
committed  by  Abdallah,  yet  his  bringing  the 
Koran  to  his  aid  to  enable  him  to  profit  by  it  with 
impunity,  give  still  darker  shades  to  this  transac- 
tion ;  which  altogether  shows  how  immediately 
and  widely  he  went  wrong  the  moment  he  de- 
parted from  the  benevolent  spirit  of  Christianity, 
which  he  at  first  endeavored  to  emulate.  World- 
ly passions  and  worldly  interests  were  fast  getting 
the  ascendency  over  that  religious  enthusiasm 
which  first  inspired  him.  As  has  well  been  ob- 
served, "  the  first  drop  of  blood  shed  in  his  name 
in  the  Holy  Week  displayed  him  a  man  in  whom 
the  slime  of  earth  had  quenched  the  holy  flame  of 
prophecy." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  BEDER. 

IN  the  second  year  of  the  Hegira  Mahomet 
received  intelligence  that  his  arch  foe,  AbuSofian, 
with  a  troop  of  thirty  horsemen,  was  conducting 
back  to  Mecca  a  caravan  of  a  thousand  camels, 
laden  with  the  merchandise  of  Syria.  Their  route 
lay  through  the  country  of  Medina,  between  the 
range  of  mountains  and  the  sea.  Mahomet  de- 
termined to  intercept  them.  About  the  middle 
of  the  month  Ramadhan,  therefore,  he  sallied  forth 
with  three  hundred  and  fourteen  men,  of  whom 
eighty-three  were  Mohadjerins,  or  exiles  from 
Mecca  ;  sixty-one  Awsites,  and  a  hundred  and 
seventy  Khazradites.  Each  troop  had  its  own 
banner.  There  were  but  two  horses  in  this  little 
army,*  but  there  were  seventy  fleet  camels,  which 
the  troop  mounted  by  turns,  so  as  to  make  a  rapid 
march  without  much  fatigue. 

Othman  Ibn  Affan,  the  son-in-law  of  Mahomet, 
was  now  returned  with  his  wife  Rokaia  from  their 
exile  in  Abyssinia,  and  would  have  joined  the  en- 
terprise, but  his  wife  was  ill  almost  unto  death, 


*  "The  Arabs  of  the  desert,"  says  Burckhardt, 
•'  are  not  rich  in  horses.  Among  the  great  tribes  on 
the  Red  Sea,  between  Akaba  and  Mecca,  and  to  the 
south  and  south-east  of  Mecca,  as  far  as  Yemen, 
horses  are  very  scarce,  especially  among  those  of  the 
mountainous  districts.  The  settled  inhabitants  of 
Hedjaz  and  Yemen  are  not  much  in  the  habit  of  keep- 
ing horses.  The  tribes  most  rich  in  horses  are  those 
who  dwell  in  the  comparatively  fertile  plains  of  Meso- 
potamia, on  the  banks  of  the  river  Euphrates,  and  on 
the  Syrian  plains." — Burckhardt,  ii.  50. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


so  that  he  was  obliged  reluctantly  to  remain  in 
Medina. 

Mahomet  for  a  while  took  the  main  road  to 
Mecca,  then  leaving  it  to  the  left,  turned  toward 
the  Red  Sea  and  entered  a  fertile  valley,  watered 
by  the  brook  Beder.  Here  he  laid  in  wait  near  a 
ford,  over  which  the  caravans  were  accustomed 
to  pass.  He  caused  his  men  to  dig  a  deep  trench, 
and  to  divert  the  water  therein,  so  that  they  might 
resort  thither  to  slake  their  thirst,  out  of  reach  of 
the  enemy. 

In  the  mean  time  Abu  Sofian,  having  received 
early  intelligence  that  Mahomet  had  sallied  forth 
to  waylay  him  with  a  superior  force,  dispatched  a 
messenger  named  Omair,  on  a  fleet  dromedary, 
to  summon  instant  relief  from  Mecca.  The  mes- 
senger arrived  at  the  Caaba  haggard  and  breath- 
less. Abu  Jahl  mounted  the  roof  and  sounded 
the  alarm.  All  Mecca  was  in  confusion  and  con- 
sternation. Henda,  the  wife  of  Abu  Sofian,  a 
woman  of  a  fierce  and  intrepid  nature,  called 
upon  her  father  Otha,  her  brother  Al  Walid,  her 
uncle  Shaiba,  and  all  the  warriors  of  her  kindred, 
to  arm  and  hasten  to  the  relief  of  her  husband. 
The  brothers,  too,  of  the  Koreishite  slain  by  Ab- 
dallah  Ibn  Jasch,  in  the  valley  of  Naklah,  seized 
their  weapons  to  avenge  his  death.  Motives  of 
interest  were  mingled  with  eagerness  for  ven- 
geance, for  most  ot  the  Koreishites  had  property 
embarked  in  the  caravan.  In  a  little  while  a  force 
of  one  hundred  horse  and  seven  hundred  camels 
hurried  forward  on  the  road  toward  Syria.  It 
was  led  by  Abu  Jahl,  now  threescore  and  ten 
years  of  age,  a  veteran  warrior  of  the  desert,  who 
still  retained  the  fire  and  almost  the  vigor  and  ac- 
tivity ot  youth,  combined  with  the  rancor  of  old 
age. 

While  Abu  Jahl,  with  his  forces,  was  hurrying 
on  in  one  direction,  Abu  Sofian  was  approaching 
in  another.  On  arriving  at  the  region  of  danger, 
he  preceded  his  caravan  a  considerable  distance, 
carefully  regarding  every  track  and  footprint.  At 
length  he  came  upon  the  track  of  the  little  army 
of  Mahomet.  He  knew  it  from  the  size  of  the 
kernels  of  the  dates,  which  the  troops  had  thrown 
by  the  wayside  as  they  marched — those  of  Medina 
being  remarkable  for  their  smallness.  On  such 
minute  signs  do  the  Arabs  depend  in  tracking 
their  foes  through  the  deserts. 

Observing  the  course  Mahomet  had  taken,  Abu 
Sofian  changed  his  route,  and  passed  along  the 
coast  of  the  Red  Sea  until  he  considered  himself 
out  of  danger.  He  then  sent  another  messenger 
to  meet  any  Koreishites  that  might  have  sallied 
forth,  and  to  let  them  know  that  the  caravan 
was  safe,  and  they  might  return  to  Mecca. 

The  messenger  met  the  Koreishites  when  in  full 
march.  On  hearing  that  the  caravan  was  safe, 
they  came  to  a  halt  and  held  council.  Some  were 
for  pushing  forward  and  inflicting  a  signal  pun- 
ishment on  Mahomet  and  his  followers  ;  others 
were  for  turning  back.  In  this  dilemma  they 
sent  a  scout  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy.  He 
brought  back  word  that  they  were  about  three 
hundred  strong  ;  this  increased  the  desire  of  those 
who  were  for  battle.  Others  remonstrated. 
"  Consider,"  said  they,  "  these  are  men  who  have 
nothing  to  lose  ;  they  have  nothing  but  their 
swords  ;  not  one  of  them  will  fall  without  slaying 
his  man.  Besides,  we  have  relatives  among  them  ; 
if  we  conquer,  we  will  not  be  able  to  look  each 
other  in  the  face,  having  slain  each  other's  rela- 
tives." These  words  were  producing  their  effect, 
but  the  brothers  of  the  Koreishite  who  had  been 
slain  in  the  valley  of  Naklah  were  instigated  by 


Abu  Jahl  to  cry  for  revenge.  That  fiery  old  Arab 
seconded  their  appeal.  "Forward  !"  cried  he; 
"  let  us  get  water  from  the  brook  Beder  for  the 
feast  with  which  we  shall  make  merry  over  the 
escape  of  our  caravan."  The  main  body  of  the 
troops,  therefore,  elevated  their  standards  and 
resumed  their  march,  though  a  considerable  num- 
ber turned  back  to  Mecca. 

The  scouts  of  Mahomet  brought  him  notice  of 
the  approach  of  this  force.  The  hearts  of  some 
of  his  followers  failed  them  ;  they  had  come  forth 
in  the  expectation  of  little  fighting  and  much 
plunder,  and  were  dismayed  at  the  thoughts  of 
such  an  overwhelming  host  ;  but  Mahomet  bade 
them  be  of  good  cheer,  for  Allah  had  promised 
him  an  easy  victory. 

The  Moslems  posted  themselves  on  a  rising 
ground,  with  water  at  the  foot  of  it.  A  hut,  or 
shelter  of  the  branches  of  trees,  had  been  has- 
tily erected  on  the  summit  for  Mahomet,  and  a 
dromedary  stood  before  it,  on  which  he  might  fly 
to  Medina  in  case  of  defeat. 

The  vanguard  of  the  enemy  entered  the  valley 
panting  with  thirst,  and  hastened  to  the  stream  for 
drink  ;  but  Hamza,  the  uncle  of  Mahomet,  set 
upon  them  with  a  number  of  his  men,  and  slew 
the  leader  with  his  own  hand.  Only  one  of  the 
vanguard  escaped,  who  was  afterward  converted 
to  the  faith. 

The  main  body  of  the  enemy  now  approached 
with  sound  of  trumpet.  Three  Koreishite  war- 
riors advancing  in  front,  defied  the  bravest  of  the 
Moslems  to  equal  combat.  Two  of  these  chal- 
lengers were  Otha,  the  father-in-law  of  Abu 
Sofian,  and  Al  Walid,  his  brother-in-law.  The 
third  challenger  was  Shaiba,  the  brother  of  Otha. 
These  it  will  be  recollected  had  been  instigated 
to  sally  forth  from  Mecca,  by  Henda,  the  wife  of 
Abu  Sofian.  They  were  all  men  of  rank  in  their 
tribe. 

Three  warriors  of  Medina  stepped  forward  and 
accepted  their  challenge  ;  but  they  cried,  "  No  ! 
Let  the  renegades  of  our  own  city  of  Mecca  ad- 
vance, if  they  dare."  Upon  this  Hamza  and  AH, 
the  uncle  and  cousin  of  Mahomet,  and  Obeidah 
Ibn  al  Hareth,  undertook  the  fight.  After  a  fierce 
and  obstinate  contest,  Hamza  and  Ali  each  slew 
his  antagonist.  They  then  went  to  the  aid  of  Obe- 
idah, who  was  severely  wounded  and  nearly  over- 
come by  Otha.  They  slew  the  Koreishite  and  bore 
away  their  associate,  but  he  presently  died  of  his 
wounds. 

The  battle  now  became  general.  The  Mos- 
lems, aware  of  the  inferiority  of  their  number,  at 
first  merely  stood  on  the  defensive,  maintaining 
their  position  on  the  rising  ground,  and  galling 
the  enemy  with  flights  of  arrows  whenever  they 
sought  to  slake  their  intolerable  thirst  at  the 
stream  below.  Mahomet  remained  in  his  hut  on 
the  hill,  accompanied  by  Abu  Beker,  and  ear- 
nestly engaged  in  prayer.  In  the  course  of  the 
battle  he  had  a  paroxysm,  or  fell  into  a  kind  of 
trance.  Coming  to  himself,  he  declared  that 
God  in  a  vision  had  promised  him  the  victory. 
Rushing  out  of  the  hut,  he  caught  up  a  handful 
of  dust  and  cast  it  into  the  air  toward  the  Koreish- 
ites, exclaiming,  "  May  confusion  light  upon  their 
faces."  Then  ordering  his  followers  to  charge 
down  upon  the  enemy  :  "  Fight,  and  fear  not," 
cried  he  ;  "  the  gates  of  paradise  are  under  the 
shade,  of  swords.  He  will  assuredly  find  instant 
admission  who  falls  fighting  for  the  faith." 

In  the  shock  of  battle  which  ensued,  Abu  Jahl, 
who  was  urging  his  horse  into  the  thickest  of  the 
conflict,  received  a  blow  of  a  scimetar  in  the  thigh 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


371 


which  brought  him  to  the  ground.  Abdallah  Ibn 
Masoud  put  his  foot  upon  his  breast,  and  while 
the  fiery  veteran  was  still  uttering  imprecations 
and  curses  on  Mahomet,  severed  his  head  from 
his  body. 

The  Koreishites  now  gave  way  and  fled.  Sev- 
enty remained  dead  on  the  field,  and  nearly  the 
same  number  were  taken  prisoners.  Fourteen 
Moslems  were  slain,  whose  names  remain  on  rec- 
ord as  martyrs  to  the  faith. 

This  signal  victory  was  easily  to  be  accounted 
for  on  natural  principles  ;  the  Moslims  being 
fresh  and  unwearied,  and  having  the  advantage 
of  a  rising  ground,  and  a  supply  of  water  ;  while 
the  Koreishites  were  fatigued  by  a  hasty  march, 
parched  with  thirst,  and  diminished  in  force,  by 
the  loss  of  numbers  who  had  turned  back  to 
Mecca.  Moslem  writers,  however,  attribute  this 
early  triumph  of  the  faith  to  supernatural  agency. 
When  Mahomet  scattered  dust  in  the  air,  say 
they,  three  thousand  angelic  warriors  in  white 
and  yeilow  turbans,  and  long  dazzling  robes,  and 
mounted  on  black  and  white  steeds,  came  rush- 
ing like  a  blast,  and  swept  the  Koreishites  before 
them.  Nor  is  this  affirmed  on  Moslem  testimony 
alone,  but  given  on  the  word  of  an  idolater,  a 
peasant  who  was  attending  sheep  on  an  adjacent 
hill.  "  I  was  with  a  companion,  my  cousin," 
said  the  peasant,  "  upon  the  fold  of  the  moun- 
tain, watching  the  conflict,  and  waiting  to  join 
with  the  conquerors  and  share  the  spoil.  Sud- 
denly we  beheld  a  great  cloud  sailing  toward  us, 
and  within  it  were  the  neighing  of  steeds  and 
braying  of  trumpets.  As  it  approached,  squad- 
rons of  angels  sallied  forth,  and  we  heard  the  ter- 
rific voice  of  the  archangel  as  he  urged  his  mare 
Haizum,  '  Speed  !  speed  !  oh  Haizum  ! '  At 
*vhich  awful  sound  the  heart  of  my  companion 
burst  with  terror,  and  he  died  on  the  spot ;  and  I 
had  well  nigh  shared  his  fate."* 

When  the  conflict  was  over,  Abdallah  Ibn  Ma- 
uoud  brought  the  head  of  Abu  Jahl  to  Mahomet, 
who  eyed  the  grisly  trophy  with  exultation,  ex- 
claiming, "  This  man  was  the  Pharaoh  of  our 
nation."  The  true  name  of  this  veteran  warrior 
was  Amru  Ibn  Hasham.  The  Koreishites  had 
given  him  the  name  of  Abu  'Ihoem,  or  Father  of 
Wisdom,  on  account  of  his  sagacity.  The  Mos- 
lems had  changed  it  to  Abu  Jahl,  Father  of  Folly. 
The  latter  appellation  has  adhered  to  him  in  his- 
tory, and  he  is  never  mentioned  by  true  believers 
without  the  ejaculation,  "  May  he  be  accursed  of 
God  !" 

The  Moslems  who  had  fallen  in  battle  were 
honorably  interred  ;  as  to  the  bodies  of  the  Ko- 
reishites, they  were  contemptuously  thrown  into  a 
pit  which  had  been  digged  for  them.  The  ques- 
tion was  how  to  dispose  of  the  prisoners.  Omar 
was  for  striking  off  their  heads  ;  but  Abu  Beker 

*  This  miraculous  aid  is  icpeatedly  mentioned  in 
the  Koran,  e.g.  : 

"  God  had  already  given  you  the  victory  at  Beder, 
when  ye  were  inferior  in  number.  When  thou  saidst 
unto  the  faithful.  Is  it  not  enough  for  you  that  your 
Lord  should  assist  you  with  three  thousand  angels,  sent 
down  from  heaven  ?  Verily,  if  ye  persevere,  and  fear 
God,  and  your  enemies  come  upon  you  suddenly, 
your  Lord  will  assist  you  with  five  thousand  angels, 
distinguished  by  their  horses  and  attire. 

******* 

"  O  true  believers,  ye  slew  not  those  who  were 
slain  at  Beder  yourselves,  but  God  slew  them. 
Neither  didst  thou,  O  Mahomet,  cast  the  gravel  into 
their  eyes,  when  thou  didst  seem  to  cast  it  ;  but  God 
cast  it." — Sale  s  Koran,  chap.  iii. 


advised  that  they  should  be  given  up  on  ransom. 
Mahomet  observed  that  Omar  was  like  Noah,  who 
prayed  for  the  destruction  of  the  guilty  by  the  del- 
uge ;  but  Abu  Beker  was  like  Abraham,  who  in- 
terceded for  the  guilty.  He  decided  on  the  side 
of  mercy.  But  two  of  the  prisoners  were  put  to 
death  ;  one,  named  Nadhar,  for  having  ridiculed 
the  Koran  as  a  collection  of  Persian  tales  and 
fables  ;  the  other,  named  Okba,  for  the  attempt 
upon  the  life  of  Mahomet  when  he  first  preached 
in  the  Caaba,  and  when  he  was  rescued  by  Abu 
Beker.  Several  of  the  prisoners  who  were  poor 
were  liberated  on  merely  making  oath  never  again 
to  take  up  arms  against  Mahomet  or  his  followers. 
The  rest  were  detained  until  ransoms  should  be 
sent  by  their  friends. 

Among  the  most  important  of  the  prisoners 
was  Al  Abbas,  the  uncle  of  Mahomet.  He  had 
been  captured  by  Abu  Yaser,  a  man  of  small  stat- 
ure. As  the  bystanders  scoffed  at  the  disparity 
of  size,  Al  Abbas  pretended  that  he  really  had 
surrendered  to  a  horseman  of  gigantic  size, 
mounted  on  a  steed  the  like  of  which  he  had  never' 
seen  before.  Abu  Yaser  would  have  steadily 
maintained  the  truth  of  his  capture,  but  Mahomet, 
willing  to  spare  the  humiliation  of  his  uncle,  in- 
timated that  the  captor  had  been  aided  by  the 
angel  Gabriel. 

Al  Abbas  would  have  excused  himself  from 
paying  ransom,  alleging  that  he  was  a  Moslem  in 
heart,  and  had  only  taken  part  in  the  battle  on 
compulsion  ;  but  his  excuse  did  not  avail.  It  is 
thought  by  many  that  he  really  had  a  secret  un- 
derstanding with  his  nephew,  and  was  employed 
by  him  as  a  spy  in  Mecca,  both  before  and  after 
the  battle  of  Beder. 

Another  prisoner  of  great  importance  to  Mahom- 
et was  Abul  Aass,  the  husband  of  his  daughter 
Zeinab.  The  prophet  would  fain  have  drawn  his 
son-in-law  to  him  and  enrolled  him  among  his 
disciples,  but  Abul  Aass  remained  stubborn  in 
unbelief.  Mahomet  then  offered  to  set  him  at 
liberty  on  condition  of  his  returning  to  him  his 
daughter.  To  this  the  infidel  agreed,  and  Zeid, 
the  faithful  freedman  of  the  prophet,  was  sent 
with  several  companions  to  Mecca,  to  bring  Zeinab 
to  Medina  ;  in  the  mean  time  her  husband,  Abul 
Aass,  remained  a  hostage  for  the  fulfilment  of  the 
compact. 

Before  the  army  returned  to  Medina  there  was 
a  division  of  the  spoil  ;  for,  though  the  caravan  of 
Abu  Sofian  had  escaped,  yet  considerable  booty 
of  weapons  and  camels  had  been  taken  in  the 
battle,  and  a  large  sum  of  money  would  accrue 
from  the  ransom  of  the  prisoners.  On  this  occa- 
sion Mahomet  ordered  that  the  whole  should  be 
equally  divided  among  all  the  Moslems  engaged 
in  the  enterprise  ;  and  though  it  was  a  long-es- 
tablished custom  among  the  Arabs  to  give  a 
fourth  part  of  the  booty  to  the  chief,  yet  he  con- 
tented himself  with  the  same  share  as  the  rest. 
Among  the  spoil  which  fell  to  his  lot  was  a  fa- 
mous sword  of  admirable  temper,  called  Dhul 
Fakar,  or  the  Piercer.  He  ever  afterward  bore 
it  when  in  battle  ;  and  his  son-in-law,  Ali,  inher- 
ited it  at  his  death. 

This  equal  distribution  of  the  booty  caused  great 
murmurs  among  the  troops.  Those  who  had 
borne  the  brunt  of  the  fight,  and  had  been  most 
active  in  taking  the  spoil,  complained  that  they 
had  to  share  alike  with  those  who  had  stood  aloof 
from  the  affray,  and  with  the  old  men  who  had  re- 
mained to  guard  the  camp.  The  dispute,  ob- 
serves Sale,  resembles  that  of  the  soldiers  of 
David  in  relation  to  spoils  taken  from  the  Amalek- 


38 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


ites  ;  those  who  had  been  in  the  action  insisting 
that  they  who  tarried  by  the  stuff  should  have  no 
share  of  the  spoil.  The  decision  was  the  same— 
that  they  should  share  alike  (i  Samuel  30  :  21-25). 
Mahomet,  from  his  knowledge  of  Bible  history, 
may  have  been  guided  by  this  decision.  The 
division  of  the  spoils  was  an  important  point  to 
settle,  for  a  leader  about  to  enter  on  a  career  of 
predatory  warfare.  Fortunately,  he  had  a  timely 
revelation  shortly  after  his  return  to  Mecca,  regu- 
lating for  the  future  the  division  of  all  booty 
gained  in  fighting  for  the  faith. 

Such  are  the  particulars  of  the  famous  battle  of 
Beder,  the  first  victory  of  the  Saracens  under  the 
standard  of  Mahomet ;  inconsiderable,  perhaps,  in 
itself,  but  stupendous  in  its  results  ;  being  the 
commencement  of  a  career  of  victories  which 
changed  the  destinies  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

DEATH  OF  THE  PROPHET'S  DAUGHTER  ROKAIA — 
RESTORATION  OF  HIS  DAUGHTER  ZEINAB— EF- 
FECT OF  THE  PROPHET'S  MALEDICTION  ON  ABU 

-LAHAB  AND  HIS  FAMILY— FRANTIC  RAGE  OF 
HENDA,  THE  WIFE  OF  ABU  SOFIAN— MAHOMET 
NARROWLY  ESCAPES  ASSASSINATION— EMBASSY 
OF  THE  KOREISHITES — THE  KING  OF  ABYSSINIA. 

MAHOMET  returned  in  triumph  to  Medina  with 
the  spoils  and  prisoners  taken  in  his  first  battle. 
His  exultation,  however,  was  checked  by  domestic 
grief.  Rokaia,  his  beloved  daughter,  so  recently 
restored  from  exile,  was  no  more.  The  messen- 
ger who  preceded  Mahomet  with  tidings  of  his 
victory  met  the  funeral  train  at  the  gate  of  the 
city,  bearing  her  body  to  the  tomb. 

The  affliction  of  the  prophet  was  soothed  shortly 
afterward  by  the  arrival  from  Mecca  of  his  daugh- 
ter Zeinab,  conducted  by  the  faithful  Zeid.  The 
mission  of  Zeid  had  been  attended  with  difficul- 
ties. The  people  of  Mecca  were  exasperated  by 
the  late  defeat,  and  the  necessity  of  ransoming  the 
prisoners.  Zeid  remained,  therefore,  without  the 
walls,  and  sent  in  a  message  to  Kenanah,  the 
brother  of  Abul  Aass,  informing  him  of  the  com- 
pact, and  appointing  a  place  where  Zeinab  should 
be  delivered  into  his  hands.  Kenanah  set  out  to 
conduct  her  thither  in  a  litter.  On  the  way  he 
was  beset  by  a  throng  of  Koreishites,  determined 
to  prevent  the  daughter  of  Mahomet  from  being 
restored  to  him.  In  the  confusion  one  Habbar 
Ibn  Aswad  made  a  thrust  at  the  litter  with  a 
lance,  which,  had  not  Kenanah  parried  it  with  his 
bow,  might  have  proved  fatal  to  Zeinab.  Abu 
Sofian  was  attracted  to  the  place  by  the  noise  and 
tumult,  and  rebuked  Kenanah  for  restoring  Ma- 
homet's daughter  thus  publicly,  as  it  might  be 
construed  into  a  weak  concession  ;  Zeinab  was 
taken  back,  therefore,  to  her  home,  and  Kenanah 
delivered  her  up  secretly  to  Zeid  in  the  course  of 
the  following  night. 

Mahomet  was  so  exasperated  at  hearing  of  the 
attack  on  his  daughter  that  he  ordered  whoever 
should  take  Habbar,  to  burn  him  alive.  When 
his  rage  had  subsided  he  modified  this  command. 
"  It  is  for  God  alone,"  said  he,  "  to  punish  man 
with  fire.  If  taken,  let  Habbar  be  put  to  death 
with  the  sword." 

The  recent  triumph  of  the  Moslems  at  Beder 
struck  the  Koreishites  of  Mecca  with  astonishment 
and  mortification.  The  man  so  recently  driven  a 
fugitive  from  their  walls  had  suddenly  started  up 
a  powerful  foe.  Several  of  their  bravest  and  most 
important  men  had  fallen  beneath  his  sword  ; 


others  were  his  captives,  and  awaited  a  humiliat- 
ing ransom.  Abu  Lahab,  the  uncle  of  Mahomet, 
and  always  his  vehement  opposer,  had  been  un- 
able, from  illness,  to  take  the  held.  He  died  a 
few  days  after  hearing  of  the  victory,  his  death 
being  hastened  by  the  exasperation  of  his  spirits. 
Pious  Moslems,  however,  attribute  it  to  the  curse 
pronounced  by  Mahomet  aforetime  on  him  and  his 
family,  when  he  raised  his  hand  to  hurl  a  stone  at 
the  prophet  on  the  hill  of  Safa.  That  curse,  say 
they,  fell  heavily  also  on  his  son  Otho,  who  had 
repudiated  ^he  prophet's  daughter  Rokaia  ;  he 
was  torn  to  pieces  by  a  lion,  in  the  presence  of  a 
whole  caravan,  when  on  a  journey  to  Syria. 

By  no  one  was  the  recent  defeat  at  Beder  felt  so 
severely  as  by  Abu  Sofian.  He  reached  Mecca 
in  safety  with  his  caravan,  it  is  true  ;  but  it  was 
to  hear  of  the  triumph  of  the  man  he  detested,  and 
to  find  his  home  desolate.  His  wife  Henda  met 
him  with  frantic  lamentations  for  the  death  of  her 
father,  her  uncle,  and  her  brother.  Rage  mingled 
with  her  grief,  and  she  cried  night  and  day  for 
vengeance  on  Hamza  and  Ali,  by  whose  hands 
they  had  fallen.* 

Abu  Sofian  summoned  two  hundred  fleet  horse- 
men, each  with  a  sack  of  meal  at  his  saddle-bow, 
the  scanty  provisions  of  an  Arab  for  a  foray  ;  as 
he  sallied  forth  he  vowed  neither  to  anoint  his 
head,  perfume  his  beard,  nor  approach  a  female, 
until  he  had  met  Mahomet  face  to  face.  Scouring 
the  country  to  within  three  miles  of  the  gates  of 
Medina,  he  slew  two  of  the  prophet's  followers, 
ravaged  the  fields,  and  burned  the  date-trees. 

Mahomet  sallied  forth  to  meet  him  at  the  head 
of  a  superior  force.  Abu  Sofian,  regardless  of  his 
vow,  did  not  await  his  approach,  but  turned  bridle 
and  fled.  His  troop  clattered  after  him,  throwing 
off  their  sacks  of  meal  in  the  hurry  of  their  flight  ; 
whence  this  scampering  affair  was  derisively 
called  "  The  war  of  the  meal  sacks." 

Moslem  writers  record  an  imminent  risk  of  the 
prophet  while  yet  in  the  field  on  this  occasion. 
He  was  one  day  sleeping  alone  at  the  foot  of  a 
tree,  at  a  distance  from  his  camp,  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  noise,  and  beheld  Durthur,  a  hos- 
tile warrior,  standing  over  him  with  a  drawn 
sword.  "  Oh  Mahomet,"  cried  he,  "  who  is 
there  now  to  save  thee  ?"  "God!"  replied  the 
prophet.  Struck  with  conviction,  Durthur  let  fall 
his  sword,  which  was  instantly  seized  upon  by 
Mahomet.  Brandishing  the  weapon,  he  exclaimed 
in  turn,  "  Who  is  there  now  to  save  thee,  oh  Dur- 
thur ?"  "Alas,  no  one!"  replied  the  soldier. 
"  Then  learn  from  me  to  be  merciful."  So  say- 
ing, he  returned  the  sword.  The  heart  of  the  war- 
rior was  overcome  ;  he  acknowledged  Mahomet 
as  the  prophet  of  God,  and  embraced  the  faith. 


*  It  is  a  received  law  among  all  the  Arabs,  that 
whoever  sheds  the  blood  of  a  man,  owes  blood  on 
that  account  to  the  family  of  the  slain  person.  This 
ancient  law  is  sanctioned  by  the  Koran.  "  O  true 
believers,  the  law  of  retaliation  is  ordained  to  you  for 
the  slain  ;  the  free  shall  die  for  the  free."  The  Blood 
revenge,  or  Thar,  as  it  is  termed  in  Arabic,  is  claimed 
by  the  relatives  of  all  who  have  been  killed  in  open 
war,  and  not  merely  of  the  actual  homicide,  but  of  all 
his  relations.  For  those  killed  in  wars  between  two 
tribes,  the  price  of  blood  is  required  from  the  persons 
who  were  known  to  have  actually  killed  them. 

The  Arab  regards  this  blood  revenge  as  one  of  his 
most  sacred  rights,  as  well  as  duties  ;  no  earthly  con- 
sideration could  induce  him  to  give  it  up.  He  has  a 
proverbial  saying,  "  Were  hell-fire  to  be  my  lot,  I 
would  not  relinquish  the  Thar." — See  Burckhardt,  v. 
i.  314,  Notes. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


39 


As  if  the  anecdote  were  not  sufficiently  marvel- 
lous, other  devout  Moslems  affirm  that  the  deliv- 
erance of  Mahomet  was  through  the  intervention 
of  the  angel  Gabriel,  who,  at  the  moment  Durthur 
was  about  to  strike,  gave  him  a  blow  on  the 
breast  with  his  invisible  hand,  which  caused  him 
to  let  fall  his  sword. 

About  this  time  the  Koreishites  of  Mecca  be- 
thought themselves  of  the  relatives  and  disciples 
of  Mahomet  who  had  taken  refuge  from  their  per- 
secutions in  Abyssinia,  most  of  whom  still  re- 
mained there  under  the  protection  of  the  Najashee 
or  Abyssinian  king.  To  this  potentate  the  Kore- 
ishites sent  an  embassy  to  obtain  the  persons  of 
the  fugitives.  One  of  the  ambassadors  was  Ab- 
dallah  Ibn  Rabia  ;  another  was  Amru  Ibn  Al 
Aass,  the  distinguished  poet  who  had  assailed 
Mahomet  at  the  outset  of  his  mission  with  lam- 
poons and  madrigals.  He  was  now  more  ma- 
tured in  years,  and  as  remarkable  for  his  acute 
sagacity  as  for  his  poetic  talents.  He  was  still  a 
redoubtable  opponent  of  the  faith  of  Islam,  of 
which  in  after  years  he  was  to  prove  one  of  the 
bravest  and  most  distinguished  champions. 

Amru  and  Abdallah  opened  their  embassy  in  the 
oriental  style  by  the  parade  of  rich  presents,  and 
then  requested,  in  the  name  of  the  Koreish  au- 
thorities of  Mecca,  that  the  fugitives  might  be 
delivered  up  to  them.  The  king  was  a  just  man, 
and  summoned  the  Moslems  before  him  to  explain 
this  new  and  dangerous  heresy  of  which  they  were 
accused.  Among  their  number  was  Giafar,  or 
Jaafar,  the  son  of  Abu  Taleb,  and  brother  of  AH, 
consequently  the  cousin  of  Mahomet.  He  was  a 
man  of  persuasive  eloquence  and  a  most  prepos< 
sessing  appearance.  He  stood  forth  on  this  occa- 
sion, and  expounded  the  doctrines  of  Islam  with 
zeal  and  power.  The  king,  who,  as  has  been  ob- 
served, was  a  Nestorian  Christian,  found  these 
doctrines  so  similar  in  many  respects  to  those  of 
his  sect,  and  so  opposed  to  the  gross  idolatry  of 
the  Koreishites,  that,  so  far  from  giving  up  the 
fugitives,  he  took  them  more  especially  into  favor 
and  protection,  and  returning  to  Amru  and  Ab- 
dallah the  presents  they  had  brought,  dismissed 
them  from  his  court. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

GROWING  POWER  OF  MAHOMET — HIS  RESENT- 
MENT AGAINST  THE  JEWS — INSULT  TO  AN 
ARAB  DAMSEL  BY  THE  JEWISH  TRIBE  OF 
KAINOKA — A  TUMULT — THE  BENI  KAINOKA 
TAKE  REFUGE  IN  THEIR  CASTLE — SUBDUED 
AND  PUNISHED  BY  CONFISCATION  AND  BAN- 
ISHMENT—MARRIAGE OF  OTHMAN  TO  THE 
PROPHET'S  DAUGHTER  OMM  KOLTHUM  AND 
OF  THE  PROPHET  TO  HAFZA. 

THE  battle  of  Beder  had  completely  changed 
the  position  of  Mahomet  ;  he  was  now  a  triumph- 
ant chief  of  a  growing  power.  The  idolatrous 
tribes  of  Arabia  were  easily  converted  to  a  faith 
which  flattered  their  predatory  inclinations  with 
the  hope  of  spoil,  and  which,  after  all,  professed 
but  to  bring  them  back  to  the  primitive  religion  of 
their  ancestors  ;  the  first  cavalcade,  therefore, 
which  entered  the  gates  of  Medina  with  the  plun- 
der of  a  camp  made  converts  of  almost  all  its 
heathen  inhabitants,  and  gave  Mahomet  the  con- 
trol of  the  city.  His  own  tone  now  became 
altered,  and  he  spoke  as  a  lawgiver  and  a  sover- 
eign. The  first  evidence  of  this  change  of  feeling 
was  in  his  treatment  of  the  Jews,  of  whom  there 


were  three  principal  and  powerful  families  in  Me- 
dina. 

All  the  concessions  made  by  him  to  that  stiff- 
necked  race  had  proved  fruitless  ;  they  not  only 
remained  stubborn  in  unbelief,  but  treated  him 
and  his  doctrines  with  ridicule.  Assma,  the 
daughter  of  Merwan,  a  Jewish  poetess,  wrote 
satires  against  him.  She  was  put  to  death  by  one 
of  his  fanatic  disciples.  Abu  Afak,  an  Israelite, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  years  of  age,  was  likewise 
slain  for  indulging  in  satire  against  the' prophet. 
Kaab  Ibn  Aschraf,  another  Jewish  poet,  repaired  to 
Mecca  after  the  battle  of  Beder,  and  endeavored 
to  stir  up  the  Koreishites  to  vengeance,  re- 
citing verses  in  which  he  extolled  the  virtues  and 
bewailed  the  death  of  those  of  their  tribe  who  had 
fallen  in  the  battle.  Such  was  his  infatuation 
that  he  recited  these  verses  in  public,  on  his  re- 
turn to  Medina,  and  in  the  presence  of  some  of 
the  prophet's  adherents  who  were  related  to  the 
slain.  Stung  by  this  invidious  hostility,  Mahomet 
one  day  exclaimed  in  his  anger,  "  Who  will  rid 
me  of  this  son  of  Aschraf  ?"  Within  a  few  days 
afterward  Kaab  paid  for  his  poetry  with  his  life, 
being  slain  by  a  zealous  Ansarian  of  the  Awsite 
tribe. 

An  event  at  length  occurred  which  caused  the 
anger  of  Mahomet  against  the  Jews  to  break  out 
in  open  hostility.  A  damsel  of  one  of  the  pastoral 
tribes  of  Arabs  who  brought  milk  to  the  city  was 
one  day  in  the  quarter  inhabited  by  the  Beni 
Kainoka,  or  children  of  Kainoka,  one  of  the  three 
principal  Jewish  families.  Here  she  was  accost- 
ed by  a  number  of  young  Israelites,  who  having 
heard  her  beauty  extolled,  besought  her  to  un- 
cover her  face.  The  damsel  refused  an  act  con- 
trary to  the  laws  of  propriety  among  her  people."' 
A  young  goldsmith,  whose  shop  was  hard  by,  se- 
cretly fastened  the  end  of  her  veil  to  the  bench  on 
which  she  was  sitting,  so  that  when  she  rose  to 
depart  the  garment  remained,  and  her  face  was 
exposed  to  view.  Upon  this  there  was  laughter 
and  scoffing  among  the  young  Israelites,  and  the 
damsel  stood  in  the  midst  confounded  "and 
abashed.  A  Moslem  present,  resenting  the  shame 
put  upon  her,  drew  his  sword,  and  thrust  it 
through  the  body  of  the  goldsmith  ;  he  in  his  turn 
was  instantly  slain  by  the  Israelites.  The  Mos- 
lems from  a  neighboring  quarter  flew  to  arms,  the 
Beni  Kainoka  did  the  same,  but  being  inferior  in 
numbers,  took  refuge  in  a  stronghold.  Mahomet 
interfered  to  quell  the  tumult  ;  but,  being  gener- 
ally exasperated  against  the  Israelites,  insisted 
that  the  offending  tribe  should  forthwith  embrace 
the  faith.  '  They  pleaded  the  treaty  which  he  had 
made  with  them  on  his  coming  to  Medina,  by 
which  they  were  allowed  the  enjoyment  of  their 
religion  ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  moved.  For  some 
time  the  Beni  Kainoka  refused  to  yield,  and  re- 
mained obstinately  shut  up  in  their  stronghold  ; 
but  famine  compelled  them  to  surrender.  Abdal- 
lah Ibn  Obba  Solul,  the  leader  of  the  Khazraclites, 
who  was  a  protector  of  this  Jewish  tribe,  interfered 
in  their  favor,  and  prevented  their  being  put  to 
the  sword  ;  but  their  wealth  and  effects  were  con- 
fiscated, and  they  were  banished  to  Syria,  to  the 
number  of  seven  hundred  men. 

The  arms  and  riches  accruing  to  the  prophet 
and  his  followers  from  this  confiscation  were  of 
great  avail  in  the  ensuing  wars  of  the  faith. 
Among  the  weapons  which  fell  to  the  share  of  Ma- 
homet are  enumerated  three  swords  :  Medham, 
the  Keen  ;  al  Batter,  the  Trenchant,  and  Hatef, 
the  Deadly.  Two  lances,  al  Monthari,  the  Dis- 
perser,  and  al  Monthawi,  the  Destroyer.  A 


40 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


•cuirass  of  silver,  named  al  Fadha,  and  another 
named  al  Saadia,  said  to  have  been  given  by  Saul 
to  David,  when  about  to  encounter  Goliath. 
There  was  a  bow,  too,  called  al  Catum,  or  the 
Strong,  but  it  did  not  answer  to  its  name,  for  in 
the  first  battle  in  which  the  prophet  used  it  he 
drew  it  with  such  force  that  he  broke  it  in  pieces. 
In  general  he  used  the  Arabian  kind  of  bow,  with 
appropriate  arrows  and  lances,  and  forbade  his 
followers  to  use  those  of  Persia. 

Mahomet  now  sought  no  longer  to  conciliate 
the  Jews  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  became  objects 
of  his  religious  hostility.  He  revoked  the  regula- 
tion by  which  he  had  made  Jerusalem  the  Kebla 
or  point  of  prayer,  and  established  Mecca  in  its 
place  ;  toward  which,  ever  since,  the  Mahometans 
turn  their  faces  when  performing  their  devo- 
tions. 

The  death  of  the  prophet's  daughter  Rokaia  had 
been  properly  deplored  by  her  husband  Othman. 
To  console  the  latter  for  his  loss,  Omar,  his 
brother  in  arms,  offered  him,  in  the  course  of  the 
year,  his  daughter  Hafza  for  wife.  She  was  the 
widow  of  Hobash,  a  Suhamite,  eighteen  years  of 
age,  and  of  tempting  beauty,  yet  Othman  declined 
the  match.  Omar  was  indignant  at  what  he  con- 
ceived a  slight  to  his  daughter  and  to  himself, 
and  complained  of  it  to  Mahomet.  "  Be  not 
grieved,  Omar,"  replied  the  prophet,  "  a  better 
wife  is  destined  for  Othman,  and  a  better  husband 
for  thy  daughter."  He  in  effect  gave  his  own 
daughter  Omm  Kolthum  to  Othman,  and  took  the 
fair  Hafza  to  wife  himself.  By  these  politic  alli- 
ances he  grappled  both  Othnian  and  Omar  more 
strongly  to  his  side,  while  he  gratified  his  own 
inclinations  for  female  beauty.  Hafza,  next  to 
Ayesha,  was  the  most  favored  of  his  wives  ;  and 
was  intrusted  with  the  coffer  containing  the  chap- 
ters and  verses  of  the  Koran  as  they  were  revealed. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

HENDA  INCITES  ABU  SOFIAN  AND  THE  KOREISH- 
ITES  TO  REVENGE  THE  DEATH  OF  HER  RE- 
LATIONS SLAIN  IN  THE  BATTLE  OF  BEDER — 
THE  KOREISHITES  SALLY  FORTH,  FOLLOWED 
BY  HENDA  AND  HER  FEMALE  COMPANIONS — 
BATTLE  OF  OHOD — FEROCIOUS  TRIUMPH  OF 
HENDA— MAHOMET  CONSOLES  HIMSELF  BY 
MARRYING  HEND,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  OMEYA. 

As  the  power  of  Mahomet  increased  in  Medina, 
the  hostility  of  the  Koreishites  in  Mecca  augment- 
ed in  virulence.  Abu  Sofian  held  command  in 
the  sacred  city,  and  was  incessantly  urged  to  war- 
fare by  his  wife  Henda,  whose  fierce  spirit  could 
take  no  rest,  until  "  blood  revenge"  had  been 
wreaked  on  those  by  whom  her  father  and  brother 
had  been  slain.  Akrema,  also,  a  son  of  Abu 
Jahl,  and  who  inherited  his  father's  hatred  of  the 
prophet,  clamored  for  vengeance.  In  the  third 
year  of  the  Hegira,  therefore,  the  year  after  the 
battle  of  Beder,  Abu  Sofian  took  the  field  at  the 
head  of  three  thousand  men,  most  of  them  Kore- 
ishites, though  there  were  also  Arabs  of  the  tribes 
of  Kanana  and  Tehama.  Seven  hundred  were 
armed  with  corselets,  and  two  hundred  were 
horsemen.  Akrema  was  one  of  the  captains,  as 
was  also  Khaled  Ibn  al  Waled,  a  warrior  of  in- 
domitable valor,  who  afterward  rose  to  great  re- 
nown. The  banners  were  borne  in  front  by  the 
race  of  Abd  al  Dar,.a  branch  of  the  tribe  of  Kore- 
ish,  who  had  a  hereditary  right  to  the  foremost 


place  in  council,  the  foremost  rank  in  battle,  and 
to  bear  the  standard  in  the  advance  of  the  army. 

In  the  rear  of  the  host  followed  the  vindictive 
Henda,  with  fifteen  principal  women  of  Mecca, 
relatives  of  those  slain  in  the  battle  of  Beder ; 
sometimes  filling  the  air  with  waitings  and  lamen- 
tations for  the  dead,  at  other  times  animating  the 
troops  with  the  sound  of  timbrels  and  warlike 
chants.  As  they  passed  through  the  village  of 
Abwa,  where  Amina  the  mother  of  Mahomet  was 
interred,  Henda  was  with  difficulty  prevented  from 
tearing  the  mouldering  bones  out  of  the  grave. 

Al  Abbas,  the  uncle  of  Mahomet,  who  still  re- 
sided in  Mecca,  and  was  considered  hostile  to  the 
new  faith,  seeing  that  destruction  threatened  his 
nephew  should  that  army  come  upon  him  by  sur- 
prise, sent  secretly  a  swift  messenger  to  inform 
him  of  his  danger.  Mahomet  was  at  the  village 
of  Koba  when  the  message  reached  him.  He  im- 
mediately hastened  back  to  Medina,  and  called  a 
council  of  his  principal  adherents.  Representing 
the  insufficiency  of  their  force  to  take  the  field,  he 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  they  should  await  an 
attack  in  Medina,  where  the  very  women  and 
children  could  aid  them  by  hurling  stones  from 
the  house-tops.  The  elder  among  his  followers 
joined  in  his  opinion  ;  but  the  young  men,  of 
heady  valor  at  all  times,  and  elated  by  the  late 
victory  at  Beder,  cried  out  for  a  fair  fight  in  the 
open  field. 

Mahomet  yielded  to  their  clamors,  but  his 
forces,  when  mustered,  were  scarce  a  thousand 
men  ;  one  hundred  only  had  cuirasses,  and  but 
two  were  horsemen.  The  hearts  of  those  recently 
so  clamorous  to  sally  forth  now  misgave  them, 
and  they  would  fain  await  the  encounter  within 
the  walls.  "No,"  replied  Mahomet,  "it  be- 
comes not  a  prophet  when  once  he  has  drawn  the 
sword  to  sheathe  it  ;  nor  when  once  he  has  ad- 
vanced, to  turn  back,  until  God  has  decided  be- 
tween him  and  the  foe."  So  saying,  he  led  forth 
his  army.  Part  of  it  was  composed  of  Jews  and 
Khazraclites,  led  by  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba  Solul. 
Mahomet  declined  the  assistance  of  the  Jews,  un- 
less they  embraced  the  faith  of  Islam,  and  as  they 
refused,  he  ordered  them  back  to  Medina,  upon 
which  their  protector,  Abdallah,  turned  back  also 
with  his  Khazradites,  thus  reducing  the  army  to 
about  seven  hundred  men. 

With  this  small  force  Mahomet  posted  himself 
upon  the  hill  of  Ohod,  about  six  miles  from  Me- 
dina. His  position  was  partly  defended  by  rocks 
and  the  asperities  of  the  hill,  and  archers  were 
stationed  to  protect  him  in  flank  and  rear  from 
the  attacks  of  cavalry.  He  was  armed  with  a 
helmet  and  two  shirts  of  mail.  On  his  sword  was 
engraved,  "  Fear  brings  disgrace  ;  forward  lies 
honor.  Cowardice  saves  no  man  from  his  fate." 
As  he  was  not  prone  to  take  an  active  part  in  bat- 
tle, he  confided  his  sword  to  a  brave  warrior,  Abu 
Dudjana,  who  swore  to  wield  it  as  long  as  it  had 
edge  and  temper.  For  himself,  he,  as  usual,  took 
a  commanding  stand  whence  he  might  overlook 
the  field. 

The  Koreishites,  confident  in  their  numbers, 
came  marching  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  with  banners 
flying.  Abu  Sofian  led  the  centre  ;  there  were  a 
hundred  horsemen  on  each  wing  ;  the  left  com- 
manded by  Akrema,  the  son  Abu  Jahl,  the  right 
by  Khaled  Ibn  al  Waled.  As  they  advanced, 
Henda  and  her  companions  struck  their  timbrels 
and  chanted  their  war  song,  shrieking  out  at  in- 
tervals the  names  of  those  who  had  been  slain  in 
the  battle  of  Beder.  "  Courage,  sons  of  Abd  al 
Dar  !"  cried  they  to  the  standard-bearers.  "For- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


41 


ward  to  the  fight  !  close  with  the  foe  !  strike  home 
and  spare  not.  Sharp  be  your  swords  and  pitiless 
your  hearts  !" 

Mahomet  restrained  the  impatience  of  his 
troops,  ordering  them  not  to  commence  the  fight, 
but  to  stand  firm  and  maintain  their  advantage  of 
the  rising  ground.  Above  all,  the  archers  were 
to  keep  to  their  post,  let  the  battle  go  as  it  might, 
lest  the  cavalry  should  fall  upon  his  rear. 

The  horsemen  of  the  left  wing,  led  by  Akrema, 
now  attempted  to  take  the  Moslems  in  flank,  but 
were  repulsed  by  the  archers,  and  retreated  in 
confusion.  Upon  this  Hamza  set  up  the  Moslem 
war-cry,  Amit  !  amit  !  (Death  !  death  !)  and 
rushed  clown  with  his  forces  upon  the  centre. 
Abu  Dudjana  was  at  his  right  hand,  armed  with 
the  sword  of  Mahomet  and  having  a  red  band 
round  his  head,  on  which  was  written,  "  Help 
comes  from  God  !  victory  is  ours  !" 

The  enemy  were  staggered  by  the  shock.  Abu 
Dudjana  dashed  into  the  midst  of  them,  dealing 
deadly  blo\vs  on  every  side,  and  exclaiming,  "The 
sword  of  God  and  his  prophet  !"  Seven  standard- 
bearers,  of  the  race  of  Abd  el  Dar,  were,  one  atter 
the  other,  struck  down,  and  the  centre  began  to 
yield.  The  Moslem  archers,  thinking  the  victory 
secure,  forgot  the  commands  of  Mahomet,  and 
leaving  their  post,  dispersed  in  quest  of  spoil,  cry- 
ing "  Booty  !  booty  !"  Upon  this  Khaled,  rallying 
the  horse,  got  possession  of  the  ground  abandoned 
by  the  archers,  attacked  the  Moslems  in  rear,  put 
some  to  flight,  and  threw  the  rest  in  confusion. 
In  the  midst  of  the  confusion  a  horseman,  Obbij 
Ibn  Chalaf  by  name,  pressed  through  the  throng, 
crying,  "  Where  is  Mahomet  ?  There  is  no 
safety  while  he  lives."  But  Mahomet,  seizing  a 
lance  from  an  attendant,  thrust  it  through  the 
throat  of  the  idolater,  who  fell  dead  from  his  horse. 
"Thus,"  says  the  pious  Al  Jannabi,  "died  this 
enemy  of  God,  who,  some  years  before,  had  men- 
aced the  prophet,  saying,  '  I  shall  find  a  day  to  slay 
thee.'  '  Have  a  care,'  was  the  reply  ;  '  if  it  please 
Allah,  thou  thyself  shall  fall  beneath  my  hand.'  ' 

In  the  midst  of  the  melee  a  stone  from  a  sling 
struck  Mahomet  on  the  mouth,  cutting  his  lip  and 
knocking  out  one  of  his  front  teeth  ;  he  was 
wounded  in  the  face  also  by  an  arrow,  the  iron 
head  of  which  remained  in  the  wound.  Hamza, 
too,  while  slaying  a  Koreishite,  was  transfixed  by 
the  lance  of  Waksa,  an  Ethiopian  slave,  who  had 
been  promised  his  freedom  if  he  should  revenge  the 
death  of  his  master,  slain  by  Hamza  in  the  battle 
of  Beder.  Mosaab  Ibn  Omair,  also,  who  bore 
the  standard  of  Mahomet,  was  laid  low,  but  Ali 
seized  the  sacred  banner  and  bore  it  aloft  amid 
the  storm  of  battle. 

As  Mosaab  resembled  the  prophet  in  person,  a 
shout  was  put  up  by  the  enemy  that  Mahomet  was 
slain.  The  Koreishites  were  inspired  with  re- 
doubled ardor  at  the  sound  ;  the  Moslems  fled  in 
despair,  bearing  with  them  Abu  Beker  and  Omar, 
who  were  wounded.  Raab,  the  son  of  Malek, 
however,  beheld  Mahomet  lying  among  the 
•wounded  in  a  ditch,  and  knew  him  by  his  armor. 
"  Oh  believers!"  cried  he,  "  the  prophet  of  God 
yet  lives.  To  the  rescue  !  to  the  rescue  !"  Ma- 
homet was  drawn  forth  and  borne  up  the  hill  to 
the  summit  of  a  rock,  where  the  M'oslems  pre- 
pared for  a  desperate  defence.  The  Koreishites, 
however,  thinking  Mahomet  slain,  forbore  to  pur- 
sue them,  contenting  themselves  with  plundering 
and  mutilating  the  dead.  Henda  and  her  female 
companions  were  foremost  in  the  savage  work  of 
vengeance  ;  and  the  ferocious  heroine  sought  to 
tear  out  and  devour  the  heart  of  Hamza.  Abu 


Sofian  bore  a  part  of  the  mangled  body  upon  his 
lance,  and  descending  the  hill  in  triumph,  ex- 
claimed exultingly,  "  War  has  its  vicissitudes. 
The  battle  of  Ohod  succeeds  to  the  battle  of 
Beder." 

The  Koreishites  having  withdrawn,  Mahomet 
descended  from  the  rock  and  visited  the  field  of 
battle.  At  sight  of  the  body  of  his  uncle  Hamza, 
so  brutally  mangled  and  mutilated,  he  vowed  to 
inflict  like  outrage  on  seventy  of  the  enemy 
when  in  his  power.  His  grief,  we  are  told,  was 
soothed  by  the  angel  Gabriel,  who  assured  him 
that  Hamza  was  enregistered  an  inhabitant  of  the 
seventh  heaven,  by  the  title  of  "  The  lion  of  God 
and  of  his  prophet." 

The  bodies  of  the  slain  were  interred  two  and 
two,  and  three  and  three,  in  the  places  where  they 
had  fallen.  Mahomet  forbade  his  followers  to 
mourn  for  the  dead  by  cutting  off  their  hair,  rend- 
ing their  garments,  and  the  other  modes  of 
lamentation  usual  among  the  Arabs  ;  but  he  con- 
sented that  they  should  weep  for  the  dead,  as  tears 
relieve  the  overladen  heart. 

The  night  succeeding  the  battle  was  one  of 
great  disquietude,  lest  the  Koreishites  should 
make  another  attack,  or  should  surprise  Medina. 
On  the  following  day  he  marched  in  the  direction 
of  that  city,  hovering  near  the  enemy,  and  on  the 
return  of  night  lighting  numerous  watch-fires. 
Abu  Sofian,  however,  had  received  intelligence 
that  Mahomet  was  still  alive.  He  felt  himself  too 
weak  to  attack  the  city,  therefore,  while  Mahomet 
was  in  the  field,  and  might  come  to  its  assistance, 
and  he  feared  that  the  latter  might  be  reinforced 
by  its  inhabitants,  and  seek  him  with  superior 
numbers.  Contenting  himself,  therefore,  with  the 
recent  victory,  he  made  a  truce  with  the  Moslems 
for  a  year,  and  returned  in  triumph  to  Mecca. 

Mahomet  sought  consolation  for  this  mortifying 
defeat  by  taking  to  himself  another  wife,  Hend, 
the  daughter  of  Omeya,  a  man  of  great  influence. 
She  was  a  widow,  and  had,  with  her  husband, 
been  among  the  number  of  the  fugitives  in  Abys- 
sinia. She  was  now  twenty-eight  years  of  age, 
and  had  a  son  named  Salma,  whence  she  was 
commonly  called  Omm  Salma,  or  the  Mother  of 
Salma.  Being  distinguished  for  grace  and  beauty, 
she  had  been  sought  by  Abu  Beker  and  Omar, 
but  without  success.  Even  Mahomet  at  first  met 
with  difficulty.  "  Alas  !"  said  she,  "  what  hap- 
piness can  the  prophet  of  God  expect  with  me  ?  I 
am  no  longer  young  ;  I  have  a  son,  and  I  am  of 
a  jealous  disposition."  "  As  to  thy  age,"  replied 
Mahomet,  "  thou  art  much  younger  than  I.  As 
to  thy  son,  I  will  be  a  father  to  him  ;  as  to  thy 
jealous  disposition,  I  will  pray  Allah  to  root  it 
from  thy  heart." 

A  separate  dwelling  was  prepared  for  the  bride, 
adjacent  to  the  mosque.  The  household  goods, 
as  stated  by  a  Moslem  writer,  consisted  of  a  sack 
of  barley,  a  hand-mill,  a  pan,  and  a  pot  of  lard  or 
butter.  Such  were  as  yet  the  narrow  means  of 
the  prophet  ;  or  rather,  such  the  frugality  of  his 
habits  and  the  simplicity  of  Arab  life. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

TREACHERY  OF  CERTAIN  JEWISH  TRIBES  ;  THEIR 
PUNISHMENT— DEVOTION  OF  THE  PROPHET'S 
FREEDMAN  ZEID  ;  DIVORCES  HIS  BEAUTIFUL 
WIFE  ZEINAB,  THAT  SHE  MAY  BECOME  THE, 
WIFE  OF  THE  PROPHET. 

THE  defeat  of  Mahomet  at  the  battle  of  Ohod 
acted  for  a  time  unfavorably  to  his  cause  among 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


some  of  the  Arab  and  Jewish  tribes,  as  was 
evinced  by  certain  acts  ot  perfidy.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  two  tpwns,  Adhal  and  Kara,  sent  a  depu- 
tation to  him,  professing  an  inclination  to  embrace 
the  faith,  and  requesting  missionaries  to  teach 
them  its  doctrines.  He  accordingly  sent  six  dis- 
ciples to  accompany  the  deputation  ;  but  on  the 
journey,  while  reposing  by  the  brook  Radje  within 
the  boundaries  of  the  Hodseitites,  the  deputies  fell 
upon  the  unsuspecting  Moslems,  slew  four  of 
them,  and  carried  the  other  two  to  Mecca,  where 
they  gave  them  up  to  the  Koreishites,  who  put 
them  to  death. 

A  similar  act  of  treachery  was  practised  by  the 
people  of  the  province  of  Nadjed.  Pretending  to 
be  Moslems,  they  sought  succor  from  Mahomet 
against  their  enemies.  He  sent  a  number  of  his 
followers  to  their  aid,  who  were  attacked  by  the 
Beni  Suleim  orSuleimites,  near  the  brook  Manna, 
about  four  days'  journey  from  Medina,  and  slain 
almost  to  a  man.  One  of  the  Moslems,  Amru  Ibn 
Omeya,  escaped  the  carnage  and  made  for  Me- 
dina. On  the  way  he  met  two  unarmed  Jews  of 
the  Beni  Amir  ;  either  mistaking  these  for  ene- 
mies, or  provoked  to  wanton  rage  by  the  death  of 
his  comrades,  he  fell  upon  them  and  slew  them. 
The  tribe,  who  were  at  peace  with  Mahomet, 
called  upon  him  for  redress.  He  referred  the 
matter  to  the  mediation  of  another  Jewish  tribe, 
the  Beni  Nadher,  who  had  rich  possessions  and  a 
castle,  called  Zohra,  within  three  miles  of  Medina. 
This  tribe  had  engaged  by  treaty,  when  he  came 
a  fugitive  from  Mecca,  to  maintain  a  neutrality 
between  him  and  his  opponents.  The  chief  of 
this  tribe  being  now  applied  to  as  a  mediator,  in- 
vited Mahomet  to  an  interview.  He  went,  ac- 
companied by  Abu  Beker,  Omar,  Ali,  and  a  few 
others.  A  repast  was  spread  in  the  open  air  be 
fore  the  mansion  of  the  chief.  Mahomet,  how- 
ever, received  private  information  that  he  had  been 
treacherously  decoyed  hither,  and  was  to  be  slain 
as  he  sat  at  the  repast  :  it  is  said  that  he  was  to 
be  crushed  by  a  millstone,  flung  from  the  terraced 
roof  of  the  house.  Without  intimating  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  treason,  he  left  the  company  abruptly, 
and  hastened  back  to  Medina. 

His  rage  was  now  kindled  against  the  whole 
race  of  Nadher,  and  he  ordered  them  to  leave  the 
country  within  ten  days  on  pain  of  death.  They 
would  have  departed,  but  Abdallah  the  Khazra- 
dite  secretly  persuaded  them  to  stay  by  promising 
them  aid.  He  failed  in  his  promise.  The  Beni 
Nadher,  thus  disappointed  by  the  "  Chief  of  the 
Hypocrites,"  shut  themselves  up  in  their  castle  of 
Zohra.wherethey  were  besieged  by  Mahomet,  who 
cut  down  and  burned  the  date-trees,  on  vrhich 
they  depended  for  supplies.  At  the  end  of  six 
days  they  capitulated,  and  were  permitted  to  de- 
part, each  with  a  camel  load  of  effects,  arms  ex- 
cepted.  Some  were  banished  to  Syria,  others  to 
Khaibar,  a  strong  Jewish  city  and  fortress,  distant 
several  days'  journey  from  Medina.  As  the  tribe 
was  wealthy,  there  was  great  spoil,  which  Ma- 
homet took  entirely  to  himself.  His  followers  de- 
murred that  this  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  parti- 
tion revealed  in  the  Koran  ;  but  he  let  them  know 
that,  according  to  another  revelation,  all  booty 
gained,  like  the  present,  without  striking  a  blow, 
was  not  won  by  man,  but  was  a  gift  from  God, 
and  must  be  delivered  over  to  the  prophet  to  be 
expended  by  him  in  good  works,  and  the  relief  of 
orphans,  of  the  poor,  and  the  traveller.  Mahomet 
in  effect  did  not  appropriate  it  to  his  own  benefit, 
but  shared  it  among  the  Mohadjerins,  or  exiles 
from  Mecca  ;  two  Nadherite  Jews  who  had  em- 


braced Islamism,  and  two  or  three  Ansarians  or 
Auxiliaries  of  Medina,  who  had  proved  themselves 
worthy,  and  were  poor. 

We  forbear  to  enter  into  details  of  various  petty 
expeditions  of  Mahomet  about  this  time,  one  of 
which  extended  to  the  neighborhood  of  Tabuk,  on 
the  Syrian  frontier,  to  punish  a  horde  which  had 
plundered  the  caravans  of  Medina.  These  expe- 
ditions were  checkered  in  their  results,  though 
mostly  productive  of  booty,  which  now  began  to 
occupy  the  minds  of  the  Moslems  almost  as  much 
as  the  propagation  of  the  faith.  The  spoils  thus 
suddenly  gained  may  have  led  to  riot  and  de- 
bauchery, as  we  find  a  revelation  of  the  passage 
of  the  Koran,  forbidding  wine  and  games  of  haz- 
ard, those  fruitful  causes  of  strife  and  insubordina- 
tion in  predatory  camps. 

During  this  period  of  his  career  Mahomet  in 
more  than  one  instance  narrowly  escaped  falling 
by  the  hand  of  an  assassin.  He  himself  is  charged 
with  the  use  of  insidious  means  to  rid  himself  of 
an  enemy  ;  for  it  is  said  that  he  sent  Amru  Ibn 
Omeya  on  a  secret  errand  to  Mecca,  to  assassin- 
ate Abu  Sofian,  but  that  the  plot  was  discovered, 
and  the  assassin  only  escaped  by  rapid  flight. 
The  charge,  however,  is  not  well  substantiated, 
and  is  contrary  to  his  general  character  and  con- 
duct. 

If  Mahomet  had  relentless  enemies,  he  had  de- 
voted friends,  an  instance  of  which  we  have  in  the 
case  of  his  freedman  and  adopted  son  Zeid  Ibn 
Horeth.  He  had  been  one  of  the  first  converts  to 
the  faith,  and  one  of  its  most  valiant  champions. 
Mahomet  consulted  him  on  all  occasions,  and  em- 
ployed him  in  his  domestic  concerns.  One  day- 
he  entered  his  house  with  the  freedom  with  which 
a  father  enters  the  dwelling  of  a  son.  Zeid  was 
absent,  but  Zeinab  his  wife,  whom  he  had  recently 
married,  was  at  home.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
Djasch,  of  the  country  of  Kaiba,  and  considered 
the  fairest  of  her  tribe.  In  the  privacy  of  home 
she  had  laid  aside  her  veil  and  part  of  her  attire, 
so  that  her  beauty  stood  revealed  to  the  gaze  of 
Mahomet  on  his  sudden  entrance.  He  could  not 
refrain  from  expressions  of  wonder  and  admira- 
tion, to  which  she  made  no  reply,  but  repeated 
them  all  to  her  husband  on  his  return.  Zeid  knew 
the  amorous  susceptibility  of  Mahomet,  and  saw 
that  he  had  been  captivated  by  the  beauty  of 
Zeinab.  Hastening  after  him,  he  offered  to  repu- 
diate his  wife  ;  but  the  prophet  forbade  it  as  con- 
trary to  the  law.  The  zeal  of  Zeid  was  not  to  be 
checked  ;  he  loved  his  beautiful  wife,  but  he 
venerated  the  prophet,  and  he  divorced  himself 
without  delay.  When  the  requisite  term  of  sepa- 
ration had  elapsed,  Mahomet  accepted,  with  grati- 
tude, this  pious  sacrifice.  His  nuptials  with 
Zeinab  surpassed  in  splendor  all  his  other  mar- 
riages. His  doors  were  thrown  open  to  all 
comers  ;  they  were  feasted  with  the  flesh  of  sheep 
and  lambs,  with  cakes  of  barley,  with  honey,  and 
fruits,  and  favorite  beverages  ;  so  they  ate  and 
drank  their  fill  and  then  departed — railing  against 
the  divorce  as  shameful,  and  the  marriage  as  in- 
cestuous. 

At  this  critical  juncture  was  revealed  that  part 
of  the  thirty-third  chapter  of  the  Koran,  distin- 
guishing relatives  by  adoption  from  relatives  by 
blood,  according  to  which  there  was  no  sin  in 
marrying  one  who  had  been  the  wife  of  an  adopted 
son.  This  timely  revelation  pacified  the  faithful  ; 
but,  to  destroy  all  shadow  of  a  scruple,  Mahomet 
revoked  his  adoption,  and  directed  Zeid  to  resume 
his  original  appellation  of  Ibn  Hareth,  after  his 
natural  father.  The  beautiful  Zeinab,  however, 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


43 


boasted  thenceforth  a  superiority  over  the  other 
wives  of  the  prophet  on  the  score  of  the  revela- 
tion, alleging  that  her  marriage  was  ordained  by 
heaven.* 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EXPEDITION  OF  MAHOMET  AGAINST  THE  BENI 
MOSTALEK— HE  ESPOUSES  BARRA,  A  CAPTIVE 
— TREACHERY  OF  ABDALLAH  IBN  OBBA — AYE- 
SHA  SLANDERED— HER  VINDICATION— HER  IN- 
NOCENCE PROVED  BY  A  REVELATION. 

AMONG  the  Arab  tribes  which  ventured  to  take 
up  arms  against  Mahomet  after  his  defeat  at 
Ohod,  were  the  Beni  Mostalek,  a  powerful  race  of 
Koreishite  origin.  Mahomet  received  intelligence 
of  their  being  assembled  in  warlike  guise  under 
their  prince  Al  Hareth,  near  the  wells  of  Morai'si, 
in  the  territory  of  Kedaid,  and  within  five  miles  of 
the  Red  Sea.  He  immediately  took  the  field  at 
the  head  of  a  chosen  band  of  the  faithful,  accom- 
panied by  numbers  of  the  Khazradites,  led  by 
their  chief  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba.  By  a  rapid  move- 
ment he  surprised  the  enemy  ;  Al  Hareth  was 
killed  at  the  onset  by  the  flight  shot  of  an  arrow  ; 
his  troops  fled  in  confuson  after  a  brief  res;  st- 
ance, in  which  a  few  were  slain.  Two  hundred 
prisoners,  five  thousand  sheep,  and  one  thousand 
camels  were  the  fruits  of  this  easy  victory. 
Among  the  captives  was  Barra,  the  daughter  of 
Al  Hareth,  and  wife  to  a  young  Arab  of  her  kin. 
In  the  division  of  the  spoil  she  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Thabet  Ibn  Reis,  who  demanded  a  high  ransom. 
The  captive  appealed  to  Mahomet  against  this  ex'- 
tortion,  and  prayed  that  the  ransom  might  be 
mitigated.  The  prophet  regarded  her  with  eyes 
of  desire,  for  she  was  fair  to  look  upon.  "  I  can 
serve  thee  better,"  said  he,  "  than  by  abating  thy 
ransom:  be  my  wife."  The  beautiful  Barra  gave 
ready  consent  ;  her  ransom  was  paid  by  the 
prophet  to  Thabet ;  her  kindred  were  liberated 
by  the  Moslems,  to  whose  lot  they  had  fallen  ; 
most  of  them  embraced  the  faith,  and  Barra 
became  the  wife  of  Mahomet  after  his  return  to 
Medina. 

After  the  battle  the  troops  crowded  round  the 
wells  of  Morai'si  to  assuage  their  thirst.  In  the 
press  a  quarrel  rose  between  some  of  the  Mohad- 
jerins,  or  exiles  of  Mecca,  and  the  Khazradites,  in 
which  one  of  the  latter  received  a  blow.  His 
comrades  rushed  to  revenge  the  insult,  and  blood 
would  have  been  shed  but  for  the  interference  of 
Mahomet.  The  Kazradites  remained  incensed, 
and  other  of  the  people  of  Medina  made  common 
cause  with  them.  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba,  eager  to 
take  advantage  of  every  circumstance  adverse  to 
the  rising  power  of  Mahomet,  drew  his  kindred 
and  townsfolk  apart.  "Behold,"  said  he,  "the 
insults  you  have  brought  upon  yourselves  by  har- 
boring these  fugitive  Koreishites.  You  have  taken 
them  to  your  houses,  and  given  them  your  goods, 
and  now  they  turn  upon  and  maltreat  you.  They 
would  make  themselves  your  masters  even  in  your 
own  house  ;  but,  by  Allah,  when  we  return  to 
Medina,  we  will  see  which  of  us  is  strongest." 

Secret  word  was  brought  to  Mahomet  of  this 
seditious  speech.  Omar  counselled  him  at  once 


*  This  was  Mahomet's  second  wife  of  the  name  of 
Zeinab  ;  the  first,  who  had  died  some  time  previous, 
was  the  daughter  of  Chuzeima. 


to  make  way  with  Abdallah  ;  but  the  prophet 
feared  to  excite  the  vengeance  of  the  kindred  and 
adherents  of  the  powerful  Khazradite.  To  leave 
no  time  for  mutiny,  he  set  off  immediately  on 
the  homeward  march,  although  it  was  in  the 
heat  of  the  day,  and  continued  on  throughout 
the  night,  nor  halted  until  the  following  noon, 
when  the  wearied  soldiery  cared  for  nothing  but 
repose. 

On  arriving  at  Medina  he  called  Abdallah  to 
account  for  his  seditious  expressions.  He  flatly 
denied  them,  pronouncing  the  one  who  had  ac- 
cused him  a  liar.  A  revelation  from  heaven, 
however,  established  the  charge  against  him  and 
his  adherents.  "These  are  the  men,"  says  the 
Koran,  "  who  say  to  the  inhabitants  of  Medina, 
do  not  bestow  anything  on  the  refugees  who  are 
with  the  apostle  of  God,  that  they  may  be  com- 
pelled to  separate  from  him.  They  say,  verily,  if 
we  return  to  Medina,  the  worthier  will  expel 
thence  the  meaner.  God  curse  them  !  how  are 
they  turned  aside  from  the  truth." 

Some  of  the  friends  of  Abdallah,  convinced  by. 
this  revelation,  advised  him  to  ask  pardon  of  the 
prophet  ;  but  he  spurned  their  counsel.  "  You 
nave  already,"  said  he,  "persuaded  me  to  give 
this  man  my  countenance  and  friendship,  and  now 
you  would  have  me  put  myself  beneath  his  very 
feet." 

Nothing  could  persuade  him  that  Mahomet  was 
not  an  idolater  at  heart,  and  his  revelations  all 
imposture  and  deceit.  He  considered  him,  how- 
ever, a  formidable  rival,  and  sought  in  every  way 
to  injure  and  annoy  him.  To  this  implacable 
hostility  is  attributed  a  scandalous  story  which  he 
propagated  about  Ayesha,  the  favorite  wife  of  the 
prophet. 

It  was  the  custom  with  Mahomet  always  to 
have  one  of  his  wives  with  him,  on  his  military 
expeditions,  as  companion  and  solace  ;  she  was 
taken  by  lot,  and  on  the  recent  occasion  the  lot 
had  fallen  on  Ayesha.  She  travelled  in  a  litter, 
inclosed  by  curtains,  and  borne  on  the  back  of  a 
camel,  which  was  led  by  an  attendant.  On  the 
return  homeward,  the  army,  on  one  occasion,  com- 
ing to  a  halt,  the  attendants  of  Ayesha  were  as- 
tonished to  find  the  litter  empty.  Before  they  had 
recovered  from  their  surprise,  she  arrived  on  a 
camel,  led  by  a  youthful  Arab  named  Safwan  Ibn 
al  Moattel.  This  circumstance  having  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  Abdallah,  he  proclaimed  it  to  the 
world  after  his  return  to  Medina,  affirming  that 
Ayesha  had  been  guilty  of  wantonness  with  the 
youthful  Safwan. 

The  story  was  eagerly  caught  up  and  circulated 
by  Hamna,  the  sister  of  the  beautiful  Zeinab, 
whom  Mahomet  had  recently  espoused,  and  who 
hoped  to  benefit  her  sister  by  the  downfall  of  her 
deadly  rival  Ayesha  ;  it  was  echoed  also  by  Mis- 
tah,  a  kinsman  of  Abu  Beker,  and  was  celebrated 
in  satirical  verses  by  a  poet  named  Hasan. 

It  was  some  time  before  Ayesha  knew  of  the 
scandal  thus  circulating  at  her  expense.  Sickness 
had  confined  her  to  the  house  on  her  return  to 
Medina,  and  no  one  ventured  to  tell  her  of  what 
she  was  accused.  She  remarked,  however,  that 
the  prophet  was  stern  and  silent,  and  no  longer 
treated  her  with  his  usual  tenderness.  On  her  re- 
covery she  heard  with  consternation  the  crime  al- 
leged against  her,  and  protested  her  innocence. 
The  following  is  her  version  of  the  story. 

The  army  on  its  homeward  march  had  encamp- 
ed not  far  from  Medina,  when  orders  were  given 
in  the  night  to  march.  The  attendants,  as  usual, 
brought  a  camel  before  the  tent  of  Ayesha,  and 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


placing  the  litter  on  the  ground,  retired  until  she 
could  take  her  seat  within  it.  As  she  was  about 
to  enter  she  missed  her  necklace,  and  returned 
into  the  tent  to  seek  it.  In  the  mean  time  the  at- 
tendants lifted  the  litter  upon  the  camel  and  strap- 
ped it  fast,  not  perceiving  that  it  was  empty  ;  she 
being  slender  and  of  little  weight.  When  she 
returned  from  seeking  the  necklace,  the  camel 
was  gone,  and  the  army  was  on  the  march  ; 
whereupon  she  wrapped  herself  in  her  mantle 
and  sat  down,  trusting  that,  when  her  absence 
should  be  discovered,  some  persons  would  be  sent 
back  in  quest  of  her. 

While  thus  .seated,  Safwan  Ibn  al  Moattel,  the 
young  Arab,  being  one  of  the  rear-guard,  came  up, 
and,  recognizing  her,  accosted  her  with  the  usual 
Moslem  salutation.  "  To  God  we  belong,  and  to 
God  we  must  return  !  Wife  of  the  prophet,  why 
dost  thou  remain  behind  ?" 

Ayesha  made  no  reply,  but  drew  her  veil  closer 
over  her  face.  Safwan  then  alighted,  aided  her 
to  mount  the  camel,  and,  taking  the  bridle,  has- 
tened to  rejoin  the  army.  The  sun  had  risen, 
however,  before  he  overtook  it,  just  without  the 
walls  of  Medina. 

This  account,  given  by  Ayesha,  and  attested  by 
Safwan  Ibn  al  Moattel,  was  satisfactory  to  her 
parents  and  particular  friends,  but  was  scoffed 
at  by  Abdallah  and  his  adherents,  "the  Hypo- 
crites." Two  parties  thus  arose  on  the  subject, 
and  great  strife  ensued.  As  to  Ayesha,  she  shut 
herself  up  within  her  dwelling,  refusing  all  food, 
and  weeping  day  and  night  in  the  bitterness  of 
her  soul. 

.  Mahomet  was  sorely  troubled  in  mind,  and 
asked  counsel  of  AH  in  his  perplexity.  The  lat- 
ter made  light  of  the  affair,  observing  that  his 
misfortune  was  the  frequent  lot  of  man.  The 
prophet  was  but  little  consoled  by  this  suggestion. 
He  remained  separated  from  Ayesha  for  a  month  ; 
but  his  heart  yearned  toward  her  ;  not  merely  on 
account  of  her  beauty,  but  because  he  loved  her 
society.  In  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  he  fell  into  one 
of  those  trances,  which  unbelievers  have  attrib- 
uted to  epilepsy  ;  in  the  course  of  which  he  re- 
ceived a  seasonable  revelation,  which  will  be 
found  in  a  chapter  of  the  Koran.  It  was  to  this 
effect. 

They  who  accuse  a  reputable  female  of  adul- 
tery, and  produce  not  four  witnesses  of  the  fact, 
shall  be  scourged  with  fourscore  stripes,  and  their 
testimony  rejected.  As  to  those  who  have  made 
the  charge  against  Ayesha,  have  they  produced 
four  witnesses  thereof  ?  If  they  have  not,  they 
are  liars  in  the  sight  of  God.  Let  them  receive, 
therefore,  the  punishment  of  their  crime. 

The  innocence  of  the  beautiful  Ayesha  being 
thus  miraculously  made  manifest,  the  prophet  took 
her  to  his  bosom  with  augmented  affection.  Nor 
was  he  slow  in  dealing  the  prescribed  castigation. 
It  is  true  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba  was  too  powerful 
a  personage  to  be  subjected  to  the  scourge,  but  it 
fell  the  heavier  on  the  shoulders  of  his  fellow  ca- 
lumniators. The  poet  Hasan  was  cured  for  some 
time  of  his  propensity  to  make  satirical  verses,  nor 
could  Hamna,  though  a  female  and  of  great  per- 
sonal charms,  escape  the  infliction  of  stripes  ;  for 
Mahomet  observed  that  such  beauty  should  have 
been  accompanied  by  a  gentler  nature. 

The  revelation  at  once  convinced  the  pious  Ali 
of  the  purity  of  Ayesha  ;  but  she  never  forgot  nor 
forgave  that  he  had  doubted  ;  and  the  hatred  thus 
implanted  in  her  bosom  was  manifested  to  his 
great  detriment  in  many  of  the  most  important 
'concerns  of  his  after  lite. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  MOAT — BRAVERY  OF  SAAD 
IBN  MOAD  —DEFEAT  OF  THE  KOREISHITES — 
CAPTURE  OF  THE  JEWISH  CASTLE  OF  KORAIDA 
— SAAD  DECIDES  AS  TO  THE  PUNISHMENT  OF 
THE  JEWS— MAHOMET  ESPOUSES  REHANA,  A 
JEWISH  CAPTIVE— HIS  LIFE  ENDANGERED  BY 
SORCERY  ;  SAVED  BY  A  REVELATION  OF  THE 
ANGEL  GABRIEL. 

DURING  the  year  of  truce  which  succeeded  the 
battle  of  Ohod,  Abu  Sofian,  the  restless  chief  of 
the  Koreishites,  formed  a  confederacy  with  the 
Arab  tribe  of  Ghatafan  and  other  tribes  of  the  des- 
ert, as  well  as  with  many  of  the  Jews  of  the  race 
of  Nadher,  whom  Mahomet  had  driven  from  their 
homes.  The  truce  being  ended,  he  prepared  to 
march  upon  Medina,  with  these  confederates, 
their  combined  forces  amounting  to  ten  thousand 
men. 

Mahomet  had  early  intelligence  of  the  meditated 
attack,  but  his  late  reverse  at  Ohod  made  him 
wary  of  taking  the  field  against  such  numbers  ; 
especially  as  he  feared  the  enemy  might  have 
secret  allies  in  Medina  ;  where  he  distrusted  the 
Jewish  inhabitants  and  the  Hypocrites,  the  parti- 
sans of  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba,  who  were  numerous 
and  powerful. 

Great  exertions  were  now  made  to  put  the  city 
in  a  state  of  defence.  Salman  the  Persian,  who 
had  embraced  the  faith,  advised  that  a  deep  moat 
should  be  digged  at  some  distance  beyond  the 
wall,  on  the  side  on  which  the  enemy  would  ap- 
proach. This  mode  of  defence,  hither  unused  in 
Arabia,  was  eagerly  adopted  by  Mahomet,  who 
set  a  great  number  of  men  to  dig  the  moat,  and 
even  assisted  personally  in  the  labor.  Many  mir- 
acles are  recorded  of  him  during  the  progress  of 
this  work.  At  one  time,  it  is  said,  he  fed  a  great 
multitude  from  a  single  basket  of  dates,  which 
remained  full  after  all  were  satisfied.  At  another 
time  he  feasted  a  thousand  men  upon  a  roasted 
lamb  and  a  loaf  of  barley  bread  ;  yet  enough  re- 
mained for  all  his  fellow-laborers  in  the  moat. 
Nor  must  we  omit  to  note  the  wonderful  blows 
which  he  gave  to  a  rock  with  an  iron  mallet, 
striking  off  sparks  which  in  one  direction  lighted 
up  all  Yemen,  or  Arabia  the  Happy  ;  in  another 
revealed  the  imperial  palace  of  Constantinople  ; 
and  in  a  third  illumined  the  towers  of  the  royal 
residence  of  Persia — all  signs  and  portents  of  the 
future  conquests  of  Islam. 

Scarcely  was  the  moat  completed  when  the  ene- 
my appeared  in  greatforce  on  the  neighboring  hills. 
Leaving  Ibn  Omm  Mactum,  a  trusty  officer,  to 
command  in  the  city,  and  keep  a  vigilant  eye  on 
the  disaffected,  Mahomet  sallied  forth  with  three 
thousand  men,  whom  he  formed  in  battle  array, 
having  the  deep  moat  in  front.  Abu  Sofian  ad- 
vanced confidently  with  his  combined  force  of 
Koreishites  and  Ghatafanites,  but  was  unexpect- 
edly checked  by  the  moat,  and  by  a  galling  fire 
from  the  Moslems  drawn  up  beyond  it.  The  en- 
emy now  encamped  ;  the  Koreishites  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  valley,  and  the  Ghatafanites  in  the 
upper  ;  and  for  some  days  the  armies  remained 
on  each  side  of  the  moat,  keeping  up  a  distant 
combat  with  slings  and  stones  and  flights  of  ar- 
rows. 

In  the  mean  time  spies  brought  word  to  Ma- 
homet that  a  Jewish  tribe,  the  Beni  Koraida,  who 
had  a  strong  castle1  near  the  city,  and  had  made  a 
covenant  of  peace  with  him,  were  in  secret  league 
with  the  enemy.  He  now  saw  the  difficulty  with 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


his  scanty  forces,  to  man  the  whole  extent  of  the 
moat  ;  to  guard  against  a  perfidious  attack  from 
the  Koraidites,  and  to  maintain  quiet  in  the  city 
•where  the  Jews  must  have  secret  confederates. 
Summoning  a  council  of  war,  he  consulted  with 
his  captains  on  the  policy  of  bribing  theGhatafan- 
ites  to  a  separate  peace  by  offering  them  a  third 
of  the  date-harvest  of  Medina.  Upon  this,  Saad 
Ibn  Moad,  a  stout  leader  of  the  Awsites  of  Me- 
dina, demanded  :  "  Do  you  propose  this  by  the 
command  of  Allah,  or  is  it  an  idea  of  your  own  ?" 
"  If  it  had  been  a  command  of  Allah,"  replied 
Mahomet,  "  I  should  never  have  asked  your  ad- 
vice. I  see  you  pressed  by  enemies  on  every  side, 
and  I  seek  to  break  their  confederacy."  "Oh 
prophet  of  God  !"  rejoined  Saad,  "  when  we  were 
fellow-idolaters  with  these  people  of  Ghatafan, 
they  got  none  of  our  dates  without  paying  for 
them  ;  and  shall  we  give  them  up  gratuitously 
now  that  we  are  of  the  true  faith,  and  led  by 
thee  ?  No,  by  Allah  !  if  they  want  our  dates  they 
must  win  them  with  their  swords  !" 

The  stout  Saad  had  his  courage  soon  put  to  the 
proof.  A  prowling  party  of  Koreishite  horsemen, 
among  whom  was  Akrema,  the  son  of  Abu  Jahl, 
and  Ainru,  uncle  of  Mahomet's  first  wife  Cadijah, 
discovered  a  place  where  the  moat  was  narrow, 
and  putting  spurs  to  their  steeds  succeeded  in 
leaping  over,  followed  by  some  of  their  comrades. 
They  then  challenged  the  bravest  of  the  Moslems 
to  equal  combat.  The  challenge  was  accepted 
by  Saad  Ibn  Moad,  by  Ali,  and  several  of  their 
companions.  Ali  had  a  close  combat  with  Amru  ; 
they  fought  on  horseback  and  on  foot,  until,  grap- 
pling with  each  other,  they  rolled  in  the  dust.  In 
the  end  Ali  was  victorious,  and  slew  his  foe.  The 
general  conflict  was  maintained  with  great  obsti- 
nacy ;  several  were  slain  on  both  sides,  and  Saad 
Ibn  Moad  was  severely  wounded.  At  length  the 
Koreishites  gave  way,  and  spurred  their  horses 
to  recross  the  moat.  The  steed  of  one  of  them, 
Nawfal  Ibn  Abdallah,  leaped  short ;  his  rider 
was  assailed  with  stones  while  in  the  moat,  and 
defied  the  Moslems  to  attack  him  with  nobler 
weapons.  In  an  instant  Ali  sprang  down  into 
the  moat,  and  Nawfal  soon  fell  beneath  his  sword. 
Ali  then  joined  his  companions  in  pursuit  of  the 
retreating  foe,  and  wounded  Akrema  with  a  jave- 
lin. This  skirmish  was  dignified  with  the  name 
of  the  battle  of  the  Moat. 

Mahomet,  still  unwilling  to  venture  a  pitched 
battle,  sent  Rueim,  a  secretly  converted  Arab  of 
the  tribe  of  Ghatafan,  to  visit  the  camps  of  the 
confederates  and  artfully  to  sow  dissensions 
among  them.  Rueim  first  repaired  to  the  Kora- 
idites, with  whom  he  was  in  old  habits  of  friend- 
ship. "  What  folly  is  this,"  said  he,  "to  suffer 
yourselves  to  be  drawn  by  the  Koreishites  of 
Mecca  into  their  quarrel.  Bethink  you  how  dif- 
ferent is  your  situation  from  theirs.  If  defeated, 
they  have  only  to  retreat  to  Mecca,  and  be  se- 
cure. Their  allies  from  the  desert  will  also  retire 
to  their  distant  homes,  and  you  will  be  left  to  bear 
the  whole  brunt  of  the  vengeance  of  Mahomet  and 
the  people  of  Medina.  Before  you  make  com- 
mon cause  with  them,  therefore,  let  them  pledge 
themselves  and  give  hostages,  never  to  draw  back 
until  they  have  broken  the  power  of  Mahomet." 

He  then  went  to  the  Koreishites  and  the  tribe 
of  Ghatafan,  and  warned  them  against  confiding 
in  the  Jews  of  Koraida,  who  intended  to  get  hos- 
tages from  them,  and  deliver  them  up  into  the 
hands  of  Mahomet. 

The  distrust  thus  artfully  sown  among  the  con- 
federates soon  produced  its  effects.  Abu  Sofian 


sent  word  on  Friday  evening,  to  the  Koraidites,  to 
be  ready  to  join  next  morning  in  a  general  as- 
sault. The  Jews  replied  that  the  following  day 
was  their  Sabbath,  on  which  they  could  not  en- 
gage in  battle  ;  at  the  same  time  they  declined  to 
join  in  any  hostile  act,  unless  their  allies  should 
give  hostages  to  stand  by  them  to  the  end. 

The  Koreishites  and  Ghatafanites  were  now  con- 
vinced of  the  perfidy  of  the  Koraidites,  and  dared 
not  venture  upon  the  meditated  attack,  lest  these 
should  fall  upon  them  in  the  rear.  While  they  lay 
idly  in  their  camp  a  cold  storm  came  on,  with 
drenching  rain  and  sweeping  blasts  from  the 
desert.  Their  tents  were  blown  down  ;  their 
camp-fires  were  extinguished  ;  in  the  midst  of  the 
uproar  the  alarm  was  given  that  Mahomet  had 
raised  the  storm  by  enchantment,  and  was  coming 
upon  them  with  his  forces.  All  now  was  panic 
and  confusion.  Abu  Sofian,  finding  all  efforts 
vain  to  produce  order,  mounted  his  camel  in  de- 
spair, and  gave  the  word  to  retreat.  The  con- 
federates hurried  off  from  the  scene  of  tumult  and 
terror,  the  Koreishites  toward  Mecca,  the  others 
to  their  homes  in  the  desert. 

Abu  Sofian,  in  rage  and  mortification,  wrote  a 
letter  to  Mahomet,  upbraiding  him  with  his 
cowardice  in  lurking  behind  a  ditch,  a  thing  un- 
known in  Arabian  warfare  ;  and  threatening  to 
take  his  revenge  on  some  future  day,  when  they 
might  meet  in  open  fight,  as  in  the  field  of  Ohod. 
Mahomet  hurled  back  a  defiance,  and  predicted 
that  the  day  was  approaching  when  he  would 
break  in  pieces  the  idols  of  the  Koreishites. 

The  invaders  having  disappeared,  Mahomet 
turned  to  take  vengeance  on  the  Beni  Koraida, 
who  shut  themselves  up  in  their  castle,  and  with- 
stood a  siege  of  many  days.  At  length,  pinched 
by  famine,  they  implored  the  intercession  of  their 
ancient  friends  and  protectors,  the  Awsites.  The 
latter  entreated  the  prophet  to  grant  these  He- 
brews the  same  terms  he  had  formerly  granted 
to  the  Beni  Kainoka,  at  the  prayer  of  Abdallah 
the  Khazradite.  Mahomet  reflected  a  moment, 
and  offered  to  leave  their  fate  to  the  decision  of 
Saad  Ibn  Moad,  the  Awsite  chief.  The  Koraid- 
ites gladly  agreed,  knowing  him  to  have  been 
formerly  their  friend.  They  accordingly  sur- 
rendered themselves  to  the  number  of  seven  hun- 
dred, and  were  conducted  in  chains  to  Medina. 
Unfortunately  for  them,  Saad  considered  their 
perfidious  league  with  the  enemy  as  one  cause  of 
the  recent  hostility.  He  was  still  smarting  wilh 
the  wound  received  in  the  battle  of  the  Moat,  and 
in  his  moments  of  pain  and  anger  had  repeatedly 
prayed  that  his  life  might  be  spared  to  see  ven- 
geance wreaked  on  the  Koraidites.  Such  was  the 
state  of  his  feelings  when  summoned  to  decide 
upon  their  fate. 

Being  a  gross,  full-blooded  man,  he  was  with 
difficulty  helped  upon  an  ass,  propped  up  by  a 
leathern  cushion,  and  supported  in  his  seat  until 
he  arrived  at  the  tribunal  of  justice.  Before  as- 
cending it,  he  exacted  an  oath  from  all  present  to 
abide  by  his  decision.  The  Jews  readily  took  it, 
anticipating  a  favorable  sentence.  No  sooner 
was  he  helped  into  the  tribunal  than,  extending 
his  hand,  he  condemned  the  men  to  death,  the 
women  and  children  to  slavery,  and  their  effects 
to  be  shared  among  the  victors. 

The  wretched  Jews  looked  aghast,  but  there 
was  no  appeal.  They  were  conducted  to  a  public 
place  since  called  the  Market  of  the  Koraidites, 
where  great  graves  had  been  digged.  Into  these 
they  were  compelled  to  descend,  one  by  one,  their 
prince  Hoya  Ibn  Ahktab  among  the  number,  and 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


were  successively  put  to  death.  Thus  the  prayer 
of  Saad  Ibn  Moad  for  vengeance  on  the  Koraid- 
ites  was  fully  gratified.  He  witnessed  the  exe- 
cution of  the  men  he  had  condemned,  but  such 
was  his  excitement  that  his  wound  broke  out 
afresh,  and  he  died  shortly  afterward. 

In  the  Castle  of  Koraida  was  found  a  great 
quantity  of  pikes,  lances,  cuirasses,  and  other 
armor  ;'  and  its  lands  were  covered  with  flocks, 
and  herds,  and  camels.  In  dividing  the  spoil 
each  foot-soldier  had  one  lot,  each  horseman 
three  ;  two  for  his  horse  and  one  for  himself.  A 
fifth  part  of  the  whole  was  set  apart  for  the 
prophet. 

The  most  precious  prize  in  the  eyes  of  Ma- 
homet was  Rihana,  daughter  of  Simeon,  a  wealthy 
and  powerful  Jew,  and  the  most  beautiful  female 
of  her  tribe.  He  took  her  to  himself,  and,  hav- 
ing converted  her  to  the  faith,  added  her  to  the 
number  of  his  wives. 

But,  though  thus  susceptible  of  the  charms  of 
the  Israelitish  women,  Mahomet  became  more 
and  more  vindictive  in  his  hatred  of  the  men  ;  no 
longer  putting  faith  in  their  covenants,  and  sus- 
pecting them  of  the  most  insidious  attempts  upon 
his  life.  Moslem  writers  attribute  to  the  spells  of 
Jewish  sorcerers  a  long  and  languishing  illness, 
with  which  he  was  afflicted  about  this  time,  and 
which  seemed  to  defy  all  remedy.  They  describe 
the  very  charm  by  which  it  was  produced.  It 
was  prepared,  say  they,  by  a  Jewish  necromancer 
from  the  mountains,  aided  by  his  daughters,  who 
were  equally  skilled  in  the  diabolic  art.  They 
formed  a  small  waxen  effigy  of  Mahomet ;  wound 
round  it  some  of  his  hair,  and  thrust  through  it 
eleven  needles.  They  then  made  eleven  knots  in 
a  bow-string,  blowing  with  their  breaths  on  each  ; 
and,  winding  the  string  round  the  effigy,  threw 
the  whole  into  a  well. 

Under  the  influence  of  this  potent  spell  Ma- 
homet wasted  away,  until  his  friend,  the  angel  Ga- 
briel, revealed  the  secret  to  him  in  a  vision.  On 
awaking  he  sent  Ali  to  the  well,  where  the  image 
was  discovered.  When  it  was  brought  to  Ma- 
homet, continues  the  legend,  he  repeated  over  it 
the  two  last  chapters  of  the  Koran,  which  had 
been  communicated  to  him  in  the  recent  vision. 
They  consist  of  eleven  verses,  and  are  to  the  fol- 
lowing purport. 

In  the  name  of  the  all  merciful  God  !  I  will  fly 
for  refuge  to  the  Lord  of  the  light  of  day. 

That  he  may  deliver  me  from  the  danger  of  be- 
ings and  things  created  by  himself. 

From  the  dangers  of  the  darksome  night,  and 
of  the  moon  when  in  eclipse. 

From  the  danger  of  sorcerers,  who  tie  knots 
and  blow  on  them  with  their  breath. 

From  the  danger  of  the  envious,  who  devise 
deadly  harm. 

I  will  fly  for  refuge  to  Allah,  the  Lord  of  men. 

To  Allah,  the  King  of  men. 

To  Allah,  the  God  of  men. 

That  he  may  deliver  me  from  the  evil  spirit 
who  flies  at  the  mention  of  his  holy  name. 

Who  suggests  evil  thoughts  into  the  hearts  of 
the  children  of  men. 

And  from  the  evil  Genii  and  men  who  deal  in 
magic. 

At  the  repetition  of  each  one  of  these  verses, 
says  the  legend,  a  knot  of  the  bow-string  came 
loose,  a  needle  fell  from  the  effigy,  and  Mahomet 
gained  strength.  At  the  end  of  the  eleventh  verse 
he  rose,  renovated  in  health  and  vigor,  as  one  re- 
stored to  freedom  after  having  been  bound  with 
cords. 


The  two  final  chapters  of  the  Koran,  which 
comprise  these  verses,  are  entitled  the  amulets, 
and  considered  by  the  superstitious  Moslems 
effectual  talismans  against  sorcery  and  magic 
charms. 

The  conduct  of  Mahomet  in  the  affair  narrated 
in  this  chapter  has  been  censured  as  weak  and 
vacillating,  and  deficient  in  military  decision, 
and  his  measures  as  wanting  in  true  greatness  of 
mind,  and  the  following  circumstances  are  ad- 
duced to  support  these  charges.  When  threaten* 
ed  with  violence  from  without,  and  perfidy  from 
within,  he  is  for  bribing  a  part  of  his  confederate 
foes  to  a  separate  peace  ;  but  suffers  himself  to 
be,  in  a  manner,  hectored  out  of  this  crafty  policy 
by  Saad  Ibn  Moad  ;  yet,  subsequently,  he  resorts 
to  a  scheme  still  more  subtle  and  crafty,  by  which 
he  sows  dissension  among  his  enemies.  Above  all, 
his  conduct  toward  the  Jews  has  been  strongly 
reprobated.  His  referring  the  appeal  of  the  Beni 
Koraida  for  mercy,  to  the  decision  of  one  whom 
he  knew  to  be  bent  on  their  destruction,  has  beea 
stigmatized  as  cruel  mockery  ;  and  the  massacre 
of  those  unfortunate  men  in  the  market-place  of 
Medina  is  pronounced  one  of  the  darkest  pages 
of  his  history.  In  fact,  his  conduct  toward  this 
race  from  the  time  that  he  had  power  in  his  hands 
forms  an  exception  to  the  general  tenor  of  his  dis- 
position, which  was  forgiving  and  humane.  He 
may  have  been  especially  provoked  against  them 
by  proofs  of  treachery  and  deadly  rancor  on  their 
part  ;  but  we  see  in  this,  as  in  other  parts  of  his 
policy  in  this  part  of  his  career,  instances  of  that 
worldly  alloy  which  at  times  was  debasing  hi? 
spirit,  now  that  he  had  become  the  Apostle  of  th< 
Sword. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

MAHOMET  UNDERTAKES  A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  MECCA 
— EVADES     KHALED    AND   A    TROOP    OF     HORSE 

SENT    AGAINST    HIM— ENCAMPS    NEAR  MECCA 

NEGOTIATES  WITH  THE  KOREISHITES  FOR  PER- 
MISSION TO  ENTER  AND  COMPLETE  HIS  PIL- 
GRIMAGE—TREATY FOR  TEN  YEARS,  BY  WHICH 
HE  IS  1  2RMITTED  TO  MAKE  A  YEARLY  VISIT  OF 
THREE  DAYS — HE  RETURNS  TO  MEDINA. 

Six  years  had  now  elapsed  since  the  flight  of 
Mahomet  from  Mecca.  As  that  city  was  sacred 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Arabs  and  their  great  point  of 
pilgrimage,  his  long  exile  from  it,  and  his  open 
warfare  with  the  Koreishites,  who  had  charge  of 
the  Caaba,  prejudiced  him  in  the  opinion  of  many 
of  the  tribes,  and  retarded  the  spread  of  his  doc- 
trines. His  followers,  too,  who  had  accompanied 
him  in  his  flight,  languished  once  more  to  see 
their  native  home,  and  there  was  danger  of  their 
faith  becoming  enfeebled  under  a  protracted  exile. 

Mahomet  felt  more  and  more  the  importance 
of  linking  the  sacred  city  with  his  religion,  and 
maintaining  the  ancient  usages  of  his  race.  Be- 
sides, he  claimed  but  to  be  a  reformer,  anxious 
to  restore  the  simplicity  and  purity  of  the  patri- 
archal faith.  The  month  Doul  Kaada  was  at 
hand,  the  month  of  pilgrimage,  when  there  was  a 
truce  to  warfare,  and  enemies  might  meet  in 
peace  within  the  holy  boundaries.  A  timely  vision 
assured  Mahomet  that  he  and  his  followers  might 
safely  avail  themselves  of  the  protection  of  this 
venerable  custom  to  revisit  the  ancient  shrines  of 
Arabian  worship.  The  revelation  was  joyfully 
received  by  his  followers,  and  in  the  holy  month 
he  set  forth  fo'r  Medina  on  his  pilgrimage,  at  the 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


head  of  fourteen  hundred  men  ;  partly  Mohad- 
jerins  or  Fugitives,  and  partly  Ansarians  or  Aux- 
iliaries. They  took  with  them  seventy  camels  to 
be  slain  in  sacrifice  at  the  Caaba.  To  manifest 
publicly  that  they  came  in  peace  and  not  in  war, 
they  halted  at  Dsu  Huleifa,  a  village  about  a 
day's  journey  trom  Medina,  where  they  laid  aside 
all  their  weapons,  excepting  their  sheathed 
swords,  and  thence  continued  on  in  pilgrim  garb. 
In  the  mean  time  a  confused  rumor  ot  this 
movement  had  reached  Mecca.  The  Koreishites, 
suspecting  hostilities,  sent  forth  Khaled  Ibn 
Waled  with  a  powerful  troop  of  horse,  to  take 
post  in  a  valley  about  two  days'  journey  from 
Mecca,  and  check  the  advance  of  the  Moslems. 

Mahomet,  hearing  that  the  main  road  was  thus 
barred  against  him,  took  a  rugged  and  difficult 
route  through  the  defiles  of  the  mountains,  and, 
avoiding  Khaled  and  his  forces,  descended  into 
the  plain  near  Mecca,  where  he  encamped  at 
Hodei'ba,  within  the  sacred  boundaries.  Hence 
he  sent  assurances  to  the  Koreishites  of  his  peace- 
able intentions,  and  claimed  the  immunities  and 
rights  of  pilgrimage. 

Envoys  from  the  Koreishites  visited  his  camp 
to  make  observations.  They  were  struck  with 
the  reverence  with  which  he  was  regarded  by  his 
followers.  The  water  with  which  he  performed 
his  ablutions  became  sanctified  ;  a  hair  tailing 
from  his  head,  or  the  paring  of  a  nail,  was  caught 
up  as  a  precious  relic.  One  of  the  envoys  in  the 
course  of  conversation,  unconsciously  touched  the 
flowing  beard  of  the  prophet  ;  he  was  thrust  back 
by  the  disciples,  and  warned  of  the  impiety  of  the 
act.  In  making  his  report  to  the  Koreishites  on 
his  return,  "  I  have  seen  the  king  of  Persia  and 
the  emperor  of  Constantinople  surrounded  by 
their  courts,"  said  he,  "  but  never  did  I  behold  a 
sovereign  so  revered  by  his  subjects,  as  is  Ma- 
homet by  his  followers." 

The  Koreishites  were  the  more  loath  to  admit 
into  their  city  an  adversary  to  their  sect,  so  for- 
midable in  his  influence  over  the  minds  and  affec- 
tions of  his  fellow-men.  Mahomet  sent  repeated 
missions  to  treat  for  a  safe  access  to  the  sacred 
shrines,  but  in  vain.  Othman  Ibn  Affan,  his  son- 
in-law,  was  his  last  envoy.  Several  days  elapsed 
without  his  return,  and  it  was  rumored  that  he 
was  slain.  Mahomet  determined  to  revenge  his 
fall.  Standing  under  a  tree,  and  summoning  his 
people  around  him,  he  exacted  an  oath  to  defend 
him  even  to  the  death,  and  never  to  desert  the 
standard  of  the  faith.  This  ceremony  is  known 
among  Mahometans  by  the  name  of  the  Spon- 
taneous Inauguration. 

The  reappearance  of  Othman  in  the  camp  re- 
stored tranquillity.  He  was  accompanied  by  Sol- 
hail,  an  ambassador  from  the  Koreishites,  to  ar- 
range a  treaty  of  peace.  They  perceived  the  im- 
policy of  warring  with  a  man  whose  power  was 
incessantly  increasing,  and  who  was  obeyed  with 
such  fanatic  devotion.  The  treaty  proposed  was 
for  ten  years,  during  which  time  Mahomet  and 
his  adherents  were  to  have  free  access  to  Mecca 
as  pilgrims,  there  to  remain,  three  days  at  a  time, 
in  the  exercise  of  their  religious  rites.  The  terms 
were  readily  accepted,  and  Ali  was  employed  to 
draw  up  the  treaty.  Mahomet  dictated  the 
words.  "  Write,"  said  he,  "  these  are  the  con- 
ditions of  peace  made  by  Mahomet  the  apostle  of 
God."  "  Hold  !"  cried  Solhail,  the  ambassador  ; 
"  had  I  believed  thee  to  be  the  apostle  of  God,  I 
should  never  have  taken  up  arms  against  thee. 
WTrite,  therefore,  simply  thy  name,  and  the  name 
of  thy  father."  Mahomet  was  fain  to  comply,  for 


he  felt  he  was  not  sufficiently  in  force  at  this  mo- 
ment to  contend  about  forms  ;  so  he  merely  de- 
nominated himself  in  the  treaty,  Mahomet  Ibn 
Abdallah  (Mahomet  the  son  of  Abdajlah),  an  ab- 
negation which  gave  some  little  scandal  to  his  fol- 
lowers. Their  discontent  was  increased  when  he 
ordered  them  to  shave  their  heads,  and  to  sacrifice 
on  the  spot  the  camels  brought  to  be  offered  up  at 
the  Caaba,  as  it  showed  he  had  not  the  intention 
of  entering  Mecca,  these  rites  being  properly  done 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremonials  of  pilgrim- 
age. They  reminded  him  of  his  vision  which 
promised  a  safe  entrance  of  the  sacred  city  ;  he 
replied,  that  the  present  treaty  was  an  earnest  of 
its  fulfilment,  which  would  assuredly  take  place 
on  the  following  year.  With  this  explanation  they 
had  to  content  themselves  ;  and  having  perform- 
ed the  ceremony,  and  made  the  sacrifice  pre- 
scribed, the  camp  was  broken  up,  and  the  pil- 
grim host  returned,  somewhat  disappointed  and 
dejected,  to  Medina. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

EXPEDITION  AGAINST  THE  CITY  OF  KHAIBAR  ; 
SIEGE — EXPLOITS  OF  MAHOMET'S  CAPTAINS — 
BATTLE  OF  ALI  AND  MARHAB — STORMING  OF 
THE  CITADEL — AH  MAKES  A  BUCKLER  OF  THE 
GATE — CAPTURE  OF  THE  PLACE — MAHOMET 
POISONED  ;  HE  MARRIES  SAFIYA,  A  CAPTIVE  ; 
ALSO  OMM  HABIBA,  A  WIDOW. 

To  console  his  followers  for  the  check  their  re- 
ligious devotion  had  experienced  at  Mecca,  Ma- 
homet now  set  on  foot  an  expedition  calculated  to 
gratify  that  love  of  plunder,  which  began  to  rival 
fanaticism  in  attaching  them  to  his  standard. 

About  five  days'  journey  to  the  northeast  of  Me- 
dina was  situated  the  city  of  Khai'bar,  and  its  de- 
pendent territory.  It  was  inhabited  by  Jews,  who 
had  grown  wealthy  by  commerce  as  well  as  agri- 
culture. Their  rich  domain  was  partly  cultivated 
with  grain,  and  planted  with  groves  of  palm-trees  ; 
partly  devoted  to  pasturage  and  covered  with 
flocks  and  herds  ;  and  it  was  fortified  by  several 
castles.  So  venerable  was  its  antiquity  that  Abul- 
feda,  the  Arabian  historian,  assures  us  that  Moses, 
after  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  sent  an  army 
against  the  Amalekites,  inhabiting  Gothreb  (Me- 
dina), and  the  strong  city  of  Khai'bar. 

This  region  had  become  a  place  of  refuge  for 
the  hostile  Jews,  driven  by  Mahomet  from  Medina 
and  its  environs,  and  for  all  those  who  had  made 
themselves  obnoxious  to  his  vengeance.  These 
circumstances,  together  with  its  teeming  wealth, 
pointed  it  out  as  a  fit  and  ripe  object  for  that  war- 
fare which  he  had  declared  against  all  enemies  of 
the  faith. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  seventh  year  of  the  He- 
gira,  he  departed  on  an  expedition  against  Khai- 
bar,  at  the  head  of  twelve  hundred  foot  and  two 
hundred  horse,  accompanied  by  Abu  Beker,  by 
Ali,  by  Omar,  and  other  of  his  principal  officers. 
He  had  two  standards  ;  one  represented  the  sun, 
the  other  a  black  eagle  ;  which  last  became  famous 
in  after  years  as  the  standard  of  Khaled. 

Entering  the  fertile  territory  of  Khalbar,  he  be- 
gan his  warfare  by  assailing  the  inferior  castles 
with  which  it  was  studded.  Some  of  these  capit- 
ulated without  making  resistance  ;  in  which  cases, 
being  considered  "gifts  from  God,"  the  spoils 
went  to  the  prophet,  to  be  disposed  of  by  him  in 
the  way  before  mentioned.  Others  of  more 


48 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


strength,  and  garrisoned  by  stouter  hearts,  had 
to  be  taken  by  storm. 

After  the  capture  of  these  minor  fortresses,  Ma- 
homet advanced  against  the  city  of  Khaibar.  It 
was  strongly  defended  by  outworks,  and  its  cita- 
del, Al  Kamus,  built  on  a  steep  rock,  was  deemed 
impregnable,  insomuch  that  Kenana  Ibn  al  Rabi, 
the  chief  or  king  of  the  nation,  had  made  it  the 
depositor}^  of  all  his  treasures. 

The  siege  of  this  city  was  the  most  important 
enterprise  the  Moslems  had  yet  undertaken. 
When  Mahomet  first  came  in  sight  of  its  strong 
and  frowning  walls,  and  its  rock-built  citadel,  he 
is  said  to  have  put  up  the  following  prayer  : 

"  Oh  Allah  !  Lord  of  the  seven  heavens,  and  of 
all  things  which  they  cover !  Lord  of  the  seven 
earths,  and  all  which  they  sustain  !  Lord  of  the 
evil  spirits,  and  of  all  whom  they  lead  astray  ! 
Lord  of  the  winds,  and  of  all  whom  they  scatter  and 
disperse  !  We  supplicate  thee  to  deliver  into  our 
hands  this  city,  and  all  that  it  contains,  and  the 
riches  of  all  its  lands.  To  thee  we  look  for  aid 
against  this  people,  and  against  all  the  perils  by 
which  we  are  environed." 

To  give  more  solemnity  to  his  prayers,  he  chose 
as  his  place  of  worship  a  great  rock,  in  a  stony 
place  called  Mansela,  and,  during  all  the  time 
that  he  remained  encamped  before  Khaibar,  made 
daily  seven  circuits  round  it,  as  are  made  round 
the  Caaba.  A  mosque  was  erected  on  this  rock 
in  after  times  in  memorial  of  this  devout  cere- 
monial, and  it  became  an  object  of  veneration  to 
all  pious  Moslems. 

The  siege  of  the  citadel  lasted  for  some  time, 
and  tasked  the  skill  and  patience  of  Mahomet  and 
his  troops,  as  yet  but  little  practised  in  the  attack 
of  fortified  places.  They  suffered  too  from  want  of 
provisions,  for  the  Arabs  in  their  hasty  expeditions 
seldom  burden  themselves  with  supplies,  and  the 
Jews  on  their  approach  had  laid  waste  the  level 
country,  and  destroyed  the  palm-trees  round  their 
capital. 

Mahomet  directed  the  attacks  in  person  ;  the 
besiegers  protected  themselves  by  trenches,  and 
brought  battering-rams  to  play  upon  the  walls  ;  a 
breach  was  at  length  effected,  but  for  several  days 
every  attempt  to  enter  was  vigorously  repelled. 
Abu  Beker  at  one  time  led  the  assault,  bearing 
the  standard  of  the  prophet  ;  but,  after  fighting 
with  great  bravery,  was  compelled  to  retreat. 
The  next  attack  was  headed  by  Omar  Ibn  Khat- 
tab,  who  fought  until  the  close  of  day  with  no 
better  success.  A  third  attack  was  led  by  Ali, 
whom  Mahomet  armed  with  his  own  scimetar, 
called  Dhu'l-Fakar,  or  the  Trenchant.  On  con- 
fiding to  his  hands  the  sacred  banner,  he  pro- 
nounced him  "  a  man  who  loved  God  and  his 
prophet ;  and  whom  God  and  his  prophet  loved. 
A  man  who  knew  not  fear,  nor  ever  turned  his 
back  upon  a  foe." 

And  here  it  may  be  well  to  give  a  traditional  ac- 
count of  the  person  and  character  of  Ali.  He  was 
of  the  middle  height,  but  robust  and  square,  and 
of  prodigious  strength.  He  had  a  smiling  coun- 
tenance, exceedingly  florid,  with  a  bushy  beard. 
He  was  distinguished  for  an  amiable  disposition, 
sagacious  intellect,  and  religious  zeal,  and,  from 
his  undaunted  courage,  was  surnamed  the  Lion  of 
God. 

Arabian  writers  dwell  with  fond  exaggeration 
on  the  exploits  at  Khaibar,  of  this  their  favorite 
hero.  He  was  clad,  they  say,  in  a  scarlet  vest, 
over  which  was  buckled  a  cuirass  of  steel. 
Scrambling  with  his  followers  up  the  great  heap 
of  stones  and  rubbish  in  front  ot  the  breach,  he 


planted  his  standard  on  the  top,  determined  never 
to  recede  until  the  citadel  was  taken.  The  Jews 
sallied  forth  to  drive  down  the  assailants.  In  the 
conflict  which  ensued,  Ali  fought  hand  to  hand 
with  the  Jewish  commander,  Al  Hareth,  whom 
he  slew.  The  brother  of  the  slain  advanced  to 
revenge  his  death.  He  was  of  gigantic  stature, 
with  a  double  cuirass,  a  double  turban,  wound 
round  a  helmet  of  proof,  in  front  of  which  spar- 
kled an  immense  diamond.  He  had  a  sword  girt 
to  each  side,  and  brandished  a  three-pronged 
spear,  like  a  trident.  The  warriors  measured 
each  other  with  the  eye,  and  accosted  each  other 
in  boasting  oriental  style. 

"  I,"  said  the  Jew,  "  am  Marhab,  armed  at  all 
points,  and  terrible  in  battle." 

"  And  I  am  Ali,  whom  his  mother,  at  his  birth, 
surnamed  Al  Hai'dara  (the  rugged  lion)." 

The  Moslem  writers  make  short  work  of  the 
Jewish  champion.  He  made  a  thrust  at  Ali  with 
his  three-pronged  lance,  but  it  was  dexterously 
parried,  and  before  he  could  recover  himself, 
a  blow  from  the  scimetar  Dhu'l-Fakar  divided  his 
buckler,  passed  through  the  helm  of  proof,  through 
doubled  turban  and  stubborn  skull,  cleaving  his 
head  even  to  his  teeth.  His  gigantic  form  fell 
lifeless  to  the  earth. 

The  Jews  now  retreated  into  the  citadel,  and  a 
general  assault  took  place.  In  the  heat  of  the 
action  the  shield  of  Ali  was  severed  from  his  arm, 
leaving  his  body  exposed  ;  wrenching  a  gate, 
however,  from  its  hinges,  he  used  it  as  a  buckler 
through  the  remainder  of  the  fight.  Abu  Rafe,  a 
servant  of  Mahomet,  testifies  to  the  fact.  "  I 
afterward,"  says  he,  "  examined  this  gate  in  com- 
pany with  seven  men,  and  all  eight  of  us  attempt- 
ed in  vain  to  wield  it."  * 

The  citadel  being  captured,  every  vault  and 
dungeon  was  ransacked  for  the  wealth  said  to  be 
deposited  there  by  Kenana,  the  Jewish  prince. 
None  being  discovered,  Mahomet  demanded  of 
him  where  he  had  concealed  his  treasure.  He  de- 
clared that  it  had  all  been  expended  in  the  sub- 
sistence of  his  troops,  and  in  preparations  for  de- 
fence. One  of  his  faithless  subjects,  however,  re- 
vealed the  place  where  a  great  amount  had  been 
hidden.  It  did  not  equal  the  expectations  of  the 
victors,  and  Kenana  was  put  to  the  torture  to  reveal 
the  rest  of  his  supposed  wealth.  He  either  could 
not  or  would  not  make  further  discoveries,  so  he 
was  delivered  up  to  the  vengeance  of  a  Moslem, 
whose  brother  he  had  crushed  to  death  by  a  piece 
of  a  millstone  hurled  from  the  wall,  and  who 
struck  off  his  head  with  a  single  blow  of  his  sa- 
bre.f 

While  in  the  citadel  of  Khaibar,  Mahomet  came 
near  falling  a  victim  to  Jewish  vengeance.  De- 
manding something  to  eat,  a  shoulder  ot  lamb 
was  set  before  him.  At  the  first  mouthlul  he  per- 
ceived something  unusual  in  the  taste,  and  spat  it 
forth,  but  instantly  felt  acute  internal  pain.  One 
of  his  followers,  named  Baschar,  who  had  eaten 

*  This  stupendous  feat  is  recorded  by  the  historian 
Abulfeda,  c.  24.  "Abu  Rafe,"  observes  Gibbon, 
"  was  an  eye-witness  ;  but  who  will  be  witness  for 
Abu  Rafe?"  We  join  with  the  distinguished  histo- 
rian in  his  doubt  ;  yet  if  we  scrupulously  question  the 
testimony  of  an  eye-witness,  what  will  become  of  his- 
tory ? 

f  The  Jews  inhabiting  the  tract  of  country  called 
Khaibar  are  still  known  in  Arabia  by  the  name  of 
Beni  Kheibar.  They  are  divided  into  three  tribes, 
under  independent  Sheikhs,  the  Beni  Messiad,  Beni 
Schahan,  and  Beni  Anaesse.  They  are  accused  of 
pillaging  the  caravans. — Niebuhr^  v.  ii.  p.  43. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


more  freely,  fell  down  and  expired  in  convulsions. 
All  now  was  confusion  and  consternation  ;  on 
diligent  inquiry,  it  was  found  that  the  lamb  had 
been  cooked  by  Zainab,  a  female  captive,  niece  to 
Marhab,  the  gigantic  warrior  slain  by  Ali.  Being 
brought  before  Mahomet,  and  charged  with  hav- 
ing infused  poison  into  the  viand,  she  boldly 
avowed  it,  vindicating  it  as  a  justifiable  revenge 
for  the  ills  he  had  brought  upon  her  tribe  and  her 
family.  "  I  thought,"  said  she,  "  if  thou  wert  in- 
deed a  prophet,  thou  wouldst  discover  thy 
danger  ;  if  but  a  chieftain,  thou  wouldst  fall,  and 
we  should  be  delivered  from  a  tyrant." 

Arabian  writers  are  divided  as  to  the  fate  of 
this  heroine.  According  to  some,  she  was  deliv- 
ered up  to  the  vengeance  of  the  relatives  of  Bas- 
char,  who  had  died  of  the  poison.  According  to 
others,  her  beauty  pleaded  in  her  behalf,  and  Ma- 
homet restored  her  unharmed  to  her  family. 

The  same  writers  seldom  permit  any  remarkable 
event  of  Mahomet's  life  to  pass  without  a  miracle. 
In  the  present  instance,  they  assure  us  that  the 
poisoned  shoulder  of  lamb  became  miraculously 
gifted  with  speech,  and  warned  Mahomet  of  his 
danger.  If  so,  it  was  rather  slow  of  speech,  for 
he  had  imibibed  sufficient  poison  to  injure  his 
constitution  throughout  the  renrlainder  of  his  life, 
affecting  him  often  with  paroxysms  of  pain. ;  and 
in  his  last  moments  he  complained  that  the  veins 
of  his  heart  throbbed  with  the  poison  of  Khaibar. 
He  experienced  kinder  treatment  at  the  hands  of 
Safiya  (or  Sophia),  another  female  captive,  who 
had  still  greater  motives  for  vengeance  than 
Zainab  ;  for  she  was  the  recently  espoused  wife  of 
Kenana,  who  had  just  been  sacrificed  for  his 
wealth,  and  she  was  the  daughter  of  Hoya  Ibn 
Akhtab,  prince  of  the  Beni  Korai'da,  who,  with 
seven  hundred  of  his  people,  had  been  put  to  death 
in  the  square  of  Medina,  as  has  been  related. 

This  Safiya  was  of  great  beauty  ;  it  is  not  sur- 
prising, therefore,  that  she  should  find  instant  fa- 
vor in  the  eyes  of  Mahomet,  and  that  he  should 
seek,  as  usual,  to  add  her  to  his  harem  ;  but  it 
may  occasion  surprise  that  she  should  contem- 
plate such  a  lot  with  complacency.  Moslem  wri- 
ters, however,  explain  this  by  assuring  us  that  she 
was  supernatu rally  prepared  for  the  event. 

While  Mahomet  was  yet  encamped  before  the 
city,  and  carrying  on  the  siege,  she  had  a  vision 
of  the  night,  in  which  the  sun  descended  from  the 
firmament  and  nestled  in  her  bosom.  On  recount- 
ing her  dream  to  her  husband  Kenana  in  the 
morning,  he  smote  her  on  the  face,  exclaiming, 
"  Woman,  you  speak  in  parables  of  this  Arab 
chief  who  has  come  against  us." 

The  vision  of  Safiya  was  made  true,  for  having 
converted  her  with  all  decent  haste  to  the  faith  of 
Islam,  Mahomet  took  her  to  wife  before  he  left 
Khaibar.  Their  nuptials  took  place  on  the  home- 
ward march,  at  Al  Sahba,  where  the  army  halted 
for  three  days.  Abu  Ayub,  one  of  the  prophet's 
most  ardent  disciples  and  marshal  of  his  house- 
hold, patrolled  around  the  nuptial  tent  through- 
out the  night,  sword  in  hand.  Sofiya  was  one  of 
the  most  favored  wives  of  Mahomet,  whom  she 
survived  for  forty  years  of  widowhood. 

Besides  the  marriages  of  affection  which  we 
have  recorded,  the  prophet,  about  this  time,  made 
another  of  policy.  Shortly  after  his  return  to  Me- 
dina he  was  gladdened  by  the  arrival,  from 
Abyssinia,  of  the  residue  of  the  fugitives.  Among 
these  was  a  comely  widow,  thirty  years  of  age, 
whose  husband,  Abdallah,  had  died  while  in  exile. 
She  was  generally  known  by  the  name  of  Omm 
Habiba,  the  mother  of  Habiba,  from  a  daughter 


to  whom  she  had  given  birth.  This  widow  was 
the  daughter  of  Mahomet's  arch  enemy,  Abu 
Sofian  ;  and  the  prophet  conceived  that  a  mar- 
riage with  the  daughter  might  soften  the  hostility 
of  the  father  ;  a  politic  consideration,  which  is 
said  to  have  been  either  suggested  or  sanctioned 
by  a  revelation  of  a  chapter  of  the  Koran. 

When  Abu  Sofian  heard  of  the  espousals,  "  By 
heaven,"  exclaimed  he,  "  this  camel  is  so  ram- 
pant that  no  muzzle  can  restrain  him." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MISSIONS  TO  VARIOUS  PRINCES  ;  TO  HERACLIUS  ; 
TO  KHOSRU  II.;  TO  THE  PREFECT  OF  EGYPT — 
THEIR  RESULT. 

DURING  the  residue  of  the  year  Mahomet  re- 
mained at  Medina,  sending  forth  his  trusty  dis- 
ciples, by  this  time  experienced  captains,  on  vari- 
ous military  expeditions  ;  by  which  refractory 
tribes  were  rapidly  brought  into  subjection.  His 
views  as  a  statesman  widened  as  his  territories 
increased.  Though  he  professed,  in  cases  of  ne- 
cessity, to  propagate  his  religion  by  the  sword,  he 
was  not  neglectful  of  the  peaceful  measures  of 
diplomacy,  and  sent  envoys  to  various  princes 
and  potentates,  whose  dominions  bordered  on  his 
political  horizon,  urging  them  to  embrace  the  faith 
of  Islam  ;  which  was,  in  effect,  to  acknowledge 
him,  through  his  apostolic  office,  their  superior. 

Two  of  the  most  noted  of  these  missions  were 
to  Khosru  II.,  king  of  Persia,  and  Heraclius,  the 
Roman  emperor,  at  Constantinople.  The  wars 
between  the  Romans  and  the  Persians,  for  the 
dominion  of  the  East,  which  had  prevailed  from 
time  to  time  through  several  centuries,  had  been 
revived  by  these  two  potentates  with  varying  for- 
tunes, and  for  several  years  past  had  distracted 
the  eastern  world.  Countries  had  been  overrun 
by  either  power ;  states  and  kingdoms  had 
changed  hands  under  alternate  invasions,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  conquests  and  defeats  of  the  war- 
ring parties.  At  one  time  Khosru  with  three 
armies,  one  vauntingly  called  the  Fifty  Thousand 
Golden  Spears,  had  wrested  Palestine,  Cappado- 
cia,  Armenia,  and  several  other  great  and  wealthy 
provinces  from  the  Roman  emperor  ;  had  made 
himself  master  of  Jerusalem,  and  carried  off  the 
Holy  Cross  to  Persia  ;  had  invaded  Africa,  con- 
quered Libya  and  Egypt,  and  extended  his  vic- 
tories even  to  Carthage. 

In  the  midst  of  his  triumphant  career,  a  Moslem 
envoy  arrived  bearing  him  a  letter  from  Mahomet. 
Khosru  sent  for  his  secretary  or  interpreter,  and 
ordered  him  to  read  it.  The  letter  began  as  fol- 
lows : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God  !  Ma- 
homet, son  of  Abdallah,  and  apostle  of  God,  to 
Khosru,  king  of  Persia." 

"  What  !"  cried  Khosru,  starting  up  in  haughty 
indignation,  "  does  one  who  is  my  slave  dare  to 
put  his  name  first  in  writing  to  me  ?"  So  saying, 
he  seized  the  letter  and  tore  it  in  pieces  without 
seeking  to  know  its  contents.  He  then  wrote  to 
his  viceroy  in  Yemen,  saying,  "  I  am  told  there  is 
in  Medina  a  madman,  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  who 
pretends  to  be  a  prophet.  Restore  him  to  his 
senses  ;  or  if  you  cannot,  send  me  his  head." 

When  Mahomet  was  told  how  Khosru  had  torn 
his  letter,  "  Even  so,"  said  he,  "  shall  Allah  rend 
his  empire  in  pieces." 

The  letter  from  the  prophet  to  Heraclius  was 


50 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


more  favorably  received,  reaching  him  probably 
during  his  reverses.  It  was  signed  in  characters 
of  silver,  Mahomet  Azxarel,  Mahomet,  the  messen- 
ger of  God,  and  invited  the  emperor  to  renounce 
Christianity,  and  embrace  the  faith  of  Islam 
Heraclius,  we  are  told,  deposited  the  epistle  re- 
spectfully upon  his  pillow,  treated  the  envoy  with 
distinction,  and  dismissed  him  with  magnificent 
presents.  Engrossed,  however,  by  his  Persian 
wars,  he  paid  no  further  attention  to  this  mission, 
from  one  whom  he  probably  considered  a  mere 
Arab  fanatic  ;  nor  attached  sufficient  importance 
to  his  military  operations,  which  may  have  ap- 
peared mere  predatory  forays  of  the  wild  tribes  of 
the  desert. 

Another  mission  of  Mahomet  was  to  the  Mu- 
kowkis,  or  governor  of  Egypt,  who  had  originally 
been  sent  there  by  Heraclius  to  collect  tribute  ; 
but  who,  availing  himself  of  the  confusion  pro- 
duced by  the  wars  between  the  Romans  and  Per- 
sians, had  assumed  sovereign  power,  and  nearly 
thrown  off  all  allegiance  to  the  emperor.  He  re- 
ceived the  envoy  with  signal  honor,  but  evaded  a 
direct  reply  to  the  invitation  to  embrace  the  faith, 
observing  that  it  was  a  grave  matter  requiring 
much  consideration.  In  the  mean  time  he  sent 
presents  to  Mahomet  of  precious  jewels  ;  gar- 
ments of  Egyptian  linen  ;  exquisite  honey  and 
butter  ;  a  white  she-ass,  called  Yafur  ;  a  white 
mule,  called  Daldal,  and  a  fleet  horse  called  Lax- 
los,  or  the  Prancer.  The  most  acceptable  of  his 
presents,  however,  were  two  Coptic  damsels,  sis- 
ters, called  Mariyah  (or  Mary),  and  Shiren. 

The  beauty  of  Mariyah  caused  great  perturba- 
tion in  the  mind  of  the  prophet.  He  would  fain 
have  made  her  his  concubine,  but  was  impeded  by 
his  own  law  in  the  seventeenth  chapter  of  the 
Koran,  ordaining  that  fornication  should  be  pun- 
ished with  stripes. 

He  was  relieved  from  his  dilemma  by  another 
revelation  revoking  the  law  in  regard  to  himself 
alone,  allowing  him  intercourse  with  his  hand- 
maid. It  remained  in  full  force,  however,  against 
all  other  Moslems.  Still,  to  avoid  scandal,  and 
above  all,  not  to  excite  the  jealousy  of  his  wives, 
he  carried  on  his  intercourse  with  the  beautiful 
Mariyah  in  secret  ;  which  may  be  one  reason  why 
she  remained  long  a  favorite. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MAHOMET'S  PILGRIMAGE  TO  MECCA  ;  HIS  MAR- 
RIAGE WITH  MAIMUNA — KHALED  IBN  AL 
•\VALED  AND  AMRU  IBN  AL  AASS  BECOME 
PROSELYTES. 

THE  time  had  now  arrived  when,  by  treaty  with 
the  Koreishites,  Mahomet  and  his  followers  were 
permitted  to  make  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and 
pass  three  days  unmolested  at  the  sacred  shrines. 
He  departed  accordingly  with  a  numerous  and 
well-armed  host,  and  seventy  camels  for  sacri- 
fices. His  old  adversaries  would  fain  have  im- 
peded his  progress,  but  they  were  overawed,  and 
on  his  approach  withdrew  silently  to  the  neigh- 
boring hills.  On  entering  the  bounds  of  Mecca, 
the  pilgrims,  according  to  compact  and  usage, 
laid  aside  all  their  warlike  accoutrements  except- 
ing their  swords,  which  they  carried  sheathed. 

Great  was  their  joy  on  beholding  once  more  the 
walls  and  towers  of  the  sacred  city.  They  entered 
the  gatas  in  pilgrim  garb,  with  devout  and  thank- 


ful hearts,  and  Mahomet  performed  all  the  an- 
cient and  customary  rites,  with  a  zeal  and  devo- 
tion which  gratified  beholders,  and  drew  to  him 
many  converts.  When  he  had  complied  with  all 
the  ceremonials  he  threw  aside  the  Iram  or  pil- 
grim's garb,  and  withdrew  to  Sarif,  a  hamlet  two 
leagues  distant,  and  without  the  sacred  bound- 
aries. Here  he  had  a  ceremonial  of  a  different 
kind  to  perform,  but  one  in  which  he  was  prone 
to  act  with  unfeigned  devotion.  It  was  to  com- 
plete his  marriage  with  Maimuna,  the  daughter 
of  Al  Hareth,  the  Helalite.  He  had  become  be- 
trothed to  her  on  his  arrival  at  Mecca,  but  had 
postponed  the  nuptials  until  after  he  had  conclud- 
ed the  rites  of  pilgrimage.  This  was  doubtless 
another  marriage  of  policy,  for  Maimuna  was 
fifty-one  years  of  age,  and  a  widow,  but  the  con- 
nection gained  him  two  powerful  proselytes.  One 
was  Khaled  Ibn  al  Waled,  a  nephew  of  the  widow, 
an  intrepid  warrior  who  had  come  near  destroy- 
ing Mahomet  at  the  battle  of  Ohod.  He  now  be- 
came one  of  the  most  victorious  champions  of 
Islamism,  and  by  his  prowess  obtained  the  appel- 
lation of  "  The  Sword  of  God." 

The  other  proselyte  was  Khaled's  friend  Amru 
Ibn  al  Aass,  the  same  who  assailed  Mahomet 
with  poetry  and  satire  at  the  commencement  of 
his  prophetic  career  ;  who  had  been  an  ambassa- 
dor from  the  Koreishites  to  the  king  of  Abyssinia, 
to  obtain  the  surrender  of  the  fugitive  Moslems.and 
who  was  henceforth  destined  with  his  sword  to 
carry  victoriously  into  foreign  lands  the  faith  he 
had  once  so  strenuously  opposed. 

NOTE. — Maimuna  was  the  last  spouse  of  the  proph- 
et, and,  old  as  she  was  at  her  marriage,  survived 
all  his  other  wives.  She  died  many  years  after  him, 
in  a  pavilion  at  Serif,  under  the  same  tree  in  the  shade 
of  which  her  nuptial  tent  had  been  pitched,  and  was 
there  interred.  The  pious  historian,  Al  Jannabi,  who 
styles  himself  "  a  poor  servant  of  Allah,  hoping  for 
the  pardon  of  his  sins  through  the  mercy  of  God," 
visited  her  tomb  on  returning  from  a  pilgrimage  to 
Mecca,  in  the  year  of  the  Hegira  963,  A.D.  1555.  "  I 
saw  there,"  said  he,  "  a  dome  of  black  marble  erected 
in  memory  of  Maimuna,  on  the  very  spot  on  which 
the  apostle  of  God  had  reposed  with  her.  God  knows 
the  truth  !  and  also  the  reason  of  the  black  color  of 
the  stone.  There  is  a  place  of  ablution,  and  an  ora- 
tory ;  but  the  building  has  fallen  to  decay." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  MOSLEM  ENVOY  SLAIN  IN  SYRIA — EXPEDITION 
TO  AVENGE  HIS  DEATH — CATTLE  OF  MUTA — 
ITS  RESULTS. 

AMONG  the  different  missions  which  had  been 
sent  by  Mahomet  beyond  the  bounds  of  Arabia  to 
invite  neighboring  princes  to  embrace  his  re- 
ligion, was  one  to  the  governor  of  Bosra,  the 
great  mart  on  the  confines  of  Syria,  to. which  he 
had  made  his  first  caravan  journey  in  the  days  of 
his  youth.  Syria  had  been  alternately  under  Ro- 
man and  Persian  domination,  but  was  at  that  time 
subject  to  the  emperor,  though  probably  in  a  great 
state  of  confusion.  The  envoy  of  Mahomet  was 
slain  at  Muta,  a  town  about  three  days'  journey 
eastward  from  Jerusalem.  The  one  who  slew 
him  was  an  Arab  of  the  Christian  tribe  of  Gassan, 
and  son  to  Shorhail,  an  emir,  who  governed  Muta 
in  the  name  of  Heraclius. 

To  revenge  the  death  of  his  legate,  and  to  in- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


sure  respect  to  his  envoys  in  future,  Mahomet  pre- 
pared to  send  an  army  of  three  thousand  men 
against  the  offending  city.  It  was  a  momentous 
expedition,  as  it  might,  for  the  first  time,  bring 
the  arms  of  Islam  in  collision  with  those  of  the 
Roman  Empire  ;  but  Mahomet  presumed  upon  his 
growing  power,  the  energy  of  his  troops,  and  the 
disordered  state  of  Syrian  affairs.  The  command 
was  intrusted  to  his  freedman  Zeid,  who  had 
given  such  signal  proof  of  devotion  in  surrender- 
ing to  him  his  beautiful  wife  Zeinab.  Several 
chosen  officers  were  associated  with  him.  One 
was  Mahomet's  cousin  Jaafar,  son  of  Abu  Taleb, 
and  brother  of  Ali,  the  same  who,  by  his  elo- 
quence, had  vindicated  the  doctrines  ot  Islam  be- 
fore the  king  of  Abyssinia,  and  defeated  the  Kore- 
ish  embassy.  He  was  now  in  the  prime  ot  life, 
and  noted  for  great  courage  and  manly  beauty. 
Another  of  the  associate  officers  was  Abdallah 
Ibn  Kawaha,  the  poet,  but  who  had  signalized 
himself  in  arms  as  well  as  poetry.  A  third  was 
the  new  proselyte  Khaled,  who  joined  the  expedi- 
tion as  a  volunteer,  being  eager  to  prove  by  his 
sword  the  sincerity  of  his  conversion. 

The  orders  to  Zeid  were  to  march  rapidly,  so  as 
to  come  upon  Muta  by  surprise,  to  summon  the 
inhabitants  to  embrace  the  faith,  and  to  treat 
them  with  lenity.  Women,  children,  monks, 
and  the  blind  were  to  be  spared  at  all  events  ; 
nor  were  any  houses  to  be  destroyed,  nor  trees 
cut  down. 

The  little  army  sallied  from  Medina  in  the  full 
confidence  of  coming  upon  the  enemy  unawares. 
On  their  march,  however,  they  learned  that  a 
greatly  superior  force  of  Romans,  or  rather  Greeks 
and  Arabs,  was  advancing  to  meet  them.  A 
council  of  war  was  called.  Some  were  for  paus- 
ing, and  awaiting  further  orders  from  Mahomet  ; 
but  Abdallah,  the  poet,  was  for  pushing  fearlessly 
forward  without  regard  to  numbers.  "  We  fight 
for  the  faith!"  cried  he;  "if  we  fall,  paradise 
is  our  reward.  On,  then,  to  victor)'  or  martyr- 
dom !" 

All  caught  a  spark  of  the  poet's  fire,  or  rather, 
fanaticism.  They  met  the  enemy  near  Muta,  and 
encountered  them  with  fury  rather  than  valor.  In 
the  heat  of  the  conflict  Zeid  received  a  mortal 
wound.  The  sacred  banner  was  falling  from  his 
grasp,  but  was  seized  and  borne  aloft  by  Jaafar. 
The  battle  thickened  round  him,  for  the  banner 
was  the  object  of  fierce  contention.  He  defended 
it  with  desperate  valor.  The  hand  by  which  he 
held  it  was  struck  off  ;  he  grasped  it  with  the 
other.  That,  too,  was  severed  ;  he  embraced  it 
with  his  bleeding  arms.  A  blow  from  a  scimetar 
cleft  his  skull  ;  he  sank  dead  upon  the  field,  still 
clinging  to  the  standard  of  the  faith.  Abdallah  the 
poet  next  reared  the  banner  ;  but  he  too  fell  be- 
'neath  the  sword.  Khaled,  the  new  convert,  see- 
ing the  three  Moslem  leaders  slain,  now  grasped 
the  fatal  standard,  but  in  his  hand  it  remained 
aloft.  His  voice  rallied  the  wavering  Moslems  ; 
his  powerful  arm  cut  its  way  through  the  thickest 
of  the  enemy.  If  his  own  account  may  be 
credited,  and  he  was  one  whose  deeds  needed  no 
exaggeration,  nine  scimetars  were  broken  in  his 
hand  by  the  fury  of  the  blows  given  by  him  in 
this  deadly  conflict. 

Night  separated  the  combatants.  In  the  morn- 
ing Khaled,  whom  the  army  acknowledged  as 
their  commander,  proved  himself  as  wary  as  he 
was  valiant.  By  dint  of  marches  and  counter- 
marches he  presented  his  forces  in  so  many 
points  of  view  that  the  enemy  were  deceived  as 
to  his  number,  and  supposed  he  had  received  a 


strong  reinforcement.  At  his  first  charge,  there- 
fore, they  retreated  ;  their  retreat  soon  became  a 
flight,  in  which  they  were  pursued  with  great 
slaughter.  Khaled  then  plundered  their  camp,  in 
which  was  found  great  booty.  Among  the  slain 
in  the  field  of  battle  was  found  the  body  of  Jaafar, 
covered  with  wounds,  but  all  in  front.  Out  of 
respect  to  his  valor,  and  to  his  relationship  with 
the  prophet,  Khaled  ordered  that  his  corpse 
should  not  be  buried  on  the  spot,  but  borne  back 
for  honorable  interment  at  Medina. 

The  army,  on  its  return,  though  laden  with 
spoil,  entered  the  city  more  like  a  funeral  train 
than  a  triumphant  pageant,  and  was  received 
with  mingled  shouts  and  lamentations.  While 
the  people  rejoiced  in  the  success  of  their  arms, 
they  mourned  the  loss  of  three  of  their  favorite 
generals.  All  bewailed  the  fate  of  Jaafar,  brought 
home  a  ghastly  corpse  to  that  city  whence  they  had 
so  recently  seen  him  sally  forth  in  all  the  pride  of 
valiant  manhood,  the  admiration  of  every  be- 
holder. He  had  left  behind  him  a  beautiful  wife 
and  infant  son.  The  heart  of  Mahomet  was  touch- 
ed by  her  affliction.  He  took  the  orphan  child  in 
his  arms  and  bathed  it  with  his  tears.  But  most 
he  w^s  affected  when  he  beheld  the  young 
daughter  of  his  faithful  Zeid  approaching  him. 
He  fell  on  her  neck  and  wept  in  speechless  emo- 
tion. A  bystander  expressed  surprise  that  he 
should  give  way  to  tears  for  a  death  which,  ac- 
cording to  Moslem  doctrine,  was  but  a  passport 
to  paradise.  "Alas!"  replied  the  prophet, 
"  these  are  the  tears  of  friendship  for  the  loss  of  a 
friend  !" 

The  obsequies  of  Jaafar  were  performed  on  the 
third  day  after  the  arrival  of  the  army.  By  that 
time  Mahomet  had  recovered  his  self-possession, 
and  was  again  the  prophet.  He  gently  rebuked 
the  passionate  lamentations  of  the  multitude,  tak- 
ing occasion  to  inculcate  one  of  the  most  politic 
and  consolatory  doctrines  of  his  creed.  "  WTeep 
no  more,"  said  he,  "  over  the  death  of  this  my 
brother.  In  place  of  the  two  hands  lost  in  defend- 
ing the  standard  of  the  faith,  two  wings  have  been 
given  him  to  bear  him  to  paradise  ;  there  to  enjoy 
the  endless  delights  insured  to  all  believers  who 
fall  in  battle." 

It  was  in  consequence  of  the  prowess  and  gen- 
eralship displayed  by  Khaled  in  this  perilous 
fight  that  he  was  honored  by  Mahomet  with  the 
appellation  of  "  The  Sword  of  God,"  by  which  he 
was  afterward  renowned. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

DESIGNS  UPON  MECCA — MISSION  OF  ABU  SOFIAN— 
ITS   RESULT. 

MAHOMET,  by  force  either  of  arms  or  elo- 
quence, had  now  acquired  dominion  over  a  great 
number  of  the  Arabian  tribes.  He  had  many 
thousand  warriors  under  his  command  ;  sons  ot 
the  desert,  inured  to  hunger,  thirst,  and  the 
scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  and  to  whom  war  was 
a  sport  rather  than  a  toil.  He  had  corrected 
their  intemperance,  disciplined  their  valor,  and 
subjected  them  to  rule.  Repeated  victories  had 
given  them  confidence  in  themselves  and  in  their 
leader,  whose  standard  they  followed  with  the  im- 
plicit obedience  of  soldiers  and  the  blind  fanati- 
cism of  disciples. 

The    views   ot   Mahomet   expanded    with    his 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


means,  and  a  grand  enterprise  now  opened  upon 
his  mind.  Mecca,  his  native  city,  the  abode  of  his 
family  for  generations,  the  scene  of  his  happiest 
years,  was  still  in  the  hands  of  his  implacable  toes. 
The  Caaba,  the  object  of  devotion  and  pilgrimage 
to  all  the  children  of  Ishmael,  the  shrine  of  his 
earliest  worship,  was  still  profaned  by  the  emblems 
and  rites  of  idolatry.  To  plant  the  standard  of 
the  faith  on  the  walls  of  his  native  city,  to  rescue 
the  holy  house  from  profanation,  restore  it  to  the 
spiritual  worship  of  the  one  true  God,  and  make 
it  the  rallying  point  of  Islamism,  formed  now  the 
leading  object  of  his  ambition. 

The  treaty  of  peace  existing  with  the  Koreish- 
iteswasan  impediment  to  any  military  enterprise  ; 
but  some  casual  feuds  and  skirmishings  soon  gave 
a  pretext  for  charging  them  with  having  violated 
the  treaty  stipulations.  The  Koreishites  had  by 
this  time  learned  to  appreciate  and  dread  the  rap- 
idly increasing  power  of  the  Moslems,  and  were 
eager  to  explain  away,  or  atone  tor,  the  quar- 
rels and  misdeeds  of  a  few  heedless  individuals. 
They  even  prevailed  on  their  leader,  Abu  Sofian, 
to  repair  to  Medina  as  ambassador  of  peace, 
trusting  that  he  might  have  some  influence 
with  the  prophet  through  his  daughter  Omm  Ha- 
biba. 

It  was  a  sore  trial  to  this  haughty  chief  to  come 
almost  a  suppliant  to  the  man  whom  he  had  scoff- 
ed at  as  an  impostor,  and  treated  with  inveterate 
hostility  ;  and  his.  proud  spirit  was  doomed  to 
still  further  mortification,  for  Mahomet,  judging 
from  his  errand  of  the  weakness  of  his  party,  'and 
being  secretly  bent  on,  war,  vouchsafed  him  no 
reply. 

Repressing  his  rage,  Abu-  Sofian  sought  the  in- 
termediation of  Abu  Beker,  of  Omar,  and  AH  ; 
but  they  all  rebuked  and  repulsed  him  ;  for  they 
knew  the  secret  wishes  of  Mahomet.  He  next 
endeavored  to  secure  the  favor  of  Fatima,  the 
daughter  of  Mahomet  and  wife  of  Ali,  by  flatter- 
ing a. mother's  pride,  entreating  her  to  let  her  son 
Hasan,  a  child  but  six  years  old,  be  his  protector; 
but  Fatima  answered  haughtily,  "  My  son  is  too 
young  to  be  a  protector  ;  and  no  protection  can 
avail  against  the  will  of  the  praphet  of  God." 
Even  his  daughter,  Omm  Habiba,  the  wife  of 
Mahomet,  on  whom  Abu  Sofian  had  calculated 
for  influence,  added  to  his  mortification,  lor  on  his 
offering  to  seat  himself  on  a  mat  in  her  dwelling, 
she  hastily  folded  it  up,  exclaiming,  "It  is  the 
bed  of  the  prophet  of  God,  and  too  sacred  to  be 
made  the  resting-place  of  an  idolater." 

The  cup  of  humiliation  was  full  to  overflowing, 
and  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart  Abu  Sofian 
cursed  his  daughter.  He  now  turned  again  to 
Ali,  beseeching  his  advice  in  the  desperate  state 
of  his  embassy. 

"  I  can  advise  nothing  better,"  replied  Ali, 
"  than  for  thee  to  promise,  as  the  head  of  the 
Koreishites,  a  continuance  of  thy  protection  ; 
and  then  to  return  to  thy  home." 

"  But  thinkest  thou  that  promise  will  be  of  any 
avail  ?" 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  Ali  dryly  ;  "  but  I  know 
not  to  the  contrary." 

In  pursuance  of  this  advice,  Abu  Sofian  repair- 
ed to  the  mosque,  and  made  public  declaration, 
in  behalf  of  the  Koreishites,  that  on  their  part  the 
treaty  of  peace  should  be  faithfully  maintained  ; 
after  which  he  returned  to  Mecca,  deeply  humili- 
ated by  the  imperfect  result  of  his  mission.  He 
was  received  with  scoffs  by  the  Koreishites,  who 
observed  that  his  declaration  of  peace  availed 
nothing  without  the  concurrence  of  Mahomet. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

SURPRISE   AND    CAFfURE   OF    MECCA. 

MAHOMET  now  prepared  for  a  secret  expedi- 
tion to  take  Mecca  by  surprise.  His  allies  were 
summoned  from  all  quarters  to  Medina  ;  but  no 
intimation  was  given  of  the  object  he  had  in 
view.  All  the  roads  leading  to  Mecca  were  bar- 
red to  prevent  any  intelligence  of  his  movements 
being  carried  to  the  Koreishites.  With  all  his 
precautions  the  secret  came  near  being  discov- 
ered. Among  his  followers,  fugitives  from  Mecca, 
was  one  named  Hateb,  whose  family  had  remain- 
ed behind,  and  were  without  connections  or 
friends  to  take  an  interest  in  their  welfare.  Hateb 
now  thought  to  gain  favor  for  them  among  the 
Koreishites,  by  betraying  the  plans  of  Mahomet. 
He  accordingly  wrote  a  letter  revealing  the  in- 
tended enterprise,  and  gave  it  in  charge  to  a 
singing  woman,  named  Sara,  a  Haschemite 
slave,  who  undertook  to  carry  it  to  Mecca. 

She  was  already  on  the  road  when  Mahomet 
was  apprised  of  the  treachery.  Ali  and  five  others, 
well  mounted,  were  sent  in  pursuit  of  the  mes- 
senger. They  soon  overtook  her,  but  searched 
her  person  in  vain.  Most  of  them  would  have 
given  up  the  search  and  turned  back,  but  Ali  was 
confident  that  the  prophet  of  God  could  not  be 
mistaken  nor  misinformed.  Drawing  his  scime- 
tar,  he  swore  to  strike  off  the  head  of  the  mes- 
senger, unless  the  letter  were  produced.  The 
threat  was  effectual.  She  drew  forth  the  letter 
from  among  her  hair. 

Hateb,  on  being  taxed  with  his  perfidy,  acknowl- 
edged it,  but  pleaded  his  anxiety  to  secure  favor 
for  his  destitute  family,  and  his  certainty  thai  the 
letter  would  be  harmless,  and  of  no  avail  against 
the  purposes  of  the  apostle  of  God.  Omar  spurn- 
ed at  his  excuses,  and  would  have  struck  off  his 
head  ;  but  Mahomet,  calling  to  mind  that  Hateb 
had  fought  bravely  in  support  of  the  faith  in  the 
batle  of  the  Becler,  admitted  his  excuses  and  for- 
gave him. 

The  prophet  departed  with  ten  thousand  men 
on  this  momentous  enterprise.  Omar,  who  had 
charge  of  regulating  the  march  and  appointing 
the  encampments,  led  the  army  by  lonely  passes 
of  the  mountains  ;  prohibiting  the  sound  of  attabal 
or  trumpet,  or  anything  else  that  could  betray 
their  movements.  While  on  the  march  Mahomet 
was  joined  by  his  uncle  Al  Abbas,  who  had  come 
forlh  with  his  family  from  Mecca,  to  rally  under 
the  standard  of  the  failh.  Mahomet  received  him 
graciously,  yet  with  a  hint  at  his  tardiness. 
"  Thou  art  the  last  of  the  emigrants,"  said  he, 
"as  I  am  the  lasl  of  the  prophets."  Al  Abbas 
sent  his  family  forward  to  Medina,  while  he  turn- 
ed and  accompanied  the  expedition.  The  army 
reached  the  valley  of  Marr  Azzahran,  near  to  the 
sacred  city,  without  being  discovered.  It  was 
nightfall  when  they  silently  pitched  their  tents, 
and  now  Omar  for  the  first  time  permitted  them 
to  light  their  watchfires. 

In  the  mean  time,  though  Al  Abbas  had  joined 
the  standard  of  the  faith  in  all  sincerity,  yet  he 
was  sorely  disquieted  at  seeing  his  nephew  ad- 
vancing against  Mecca  with  such  a  powerful 
force  and  such  hostile  intent,  and  feared  the  en- 
tire destruction  of  the  Koreishites,  unless  they 
could  be  persuaded  in  time  to  capitulate.  In  the 
dead  of  the  night  he  mounted  Mahomet's  white 
mule  Fadda,  and  rode  forth  to  reconnoitre.  In 
skirting  the  camp  he  heard  the  tramp  of  men  and 
sound  of  voices.  A  scouting  party  were  bringing 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


in  two  prisoners  captured  near  the  city.  Al  Ab- 
bas approached,  and  found  the  captives  to  be  Abu 
Sofian  and  one  of  his  captains.  They  were  con- 
ducted to  the  watchfire  of  Omar,  who  recognized 
Abu  Sofian  by  the  light.  "God  be  praised," 
cried  he,  "  that  I  have  such  an  enemy  in  my 
hands,  and  without  conditions."  His  ready  scim- 
ctar  might  have  given  fatal  significance  to  his 
words,  had  not  Al  Abbas  stepped  forward  and 
taken  Abu  Sofian  under  his  protection,  until  the 
will  of  the  prophet  should  be  known.  Omar 
rushed  forth  to  ascertain  that  will,  or  rather  to 
demand  the  life  of  the  prisoner  ;  but  Al  Abbas, 
taking  the  latter  up  behind  him,  put  spurs  to  his 
mule,  and  was  the  first  to  reach  the  tent  of  the 
.prophet,  followed  hard  by  Omar,  clamoring  for 
the  head  of  Abu  Sofian. 

Mahomet  thus  beheld  in  his  power  his  invet- 
erate enemy,  who  had  driven  him  from  his  home 
and  country,  and  persecuted  his  family  and 
friends  ;  but  he  beheld  in  him  the  father  of  his 
wife  Omm  Habiba,  and  felt  inclined  to  clemency. 
He  postponed  all  decision  in  the  matter  until 
morning,  giving  Abu  Sofian  in  charge  of  Al 
Abbas. 

When  the  captain  was  brought  before  him  on 
the  following  day,  "Well,  Abu  Sofian,"  cried 
he,  "is  it  not  at  length  time  to  know  that  there  is 
no  other  God  but  God  ?" 

"  That  I  already  knew,"  replied  Abu  Sofian. 

"  Good  !  and  is  it  not  time  for  thee  to  acknowl- 
edge me  as  the  apostle  of  God  ?" 

"  Dearer  art  thou  to  me  than  my  father  and  my 
mother,"  replied  Abu  Sofian,  using  an  oriental 
phrase  of  compliment  ;  "  but  I  am  not  yet  pre- 
pared to  acknowledge  thee  a  prophet." 

"Out  upon  thee!"  cried  Omar,  "testify  in- 
stantly to  the  truth,  or  thy  head  shall  be  severed 
from  thy  body." 

To  these  threats  were  added  the  counsels  and 
entreaties  of  Al  Abbas,  who  showed  himself  a 
real  friend  in  need.  The  rancor  of  Abu  Sofian 
had  already  been  partly  subdued  by  the  unex- 
pected mildness  of  Mahomet  ;  so,  making  a  merit 
of  necessity,  he  acknowledged  the  divinity  of  his 
mission  ;  furnishing  an  illustration  of  the  Moslem 
maxim,  "  To  convince  stubborn  unbelievers  there 
is  no  argument  like  the  sword." 

Having  now  embraced  the  faith,  Abu  Sofian 
obtained  favorable  terms  for  the  people  of  Mecca, 
in  case  of  their  submission.  None  were  to  be 
harmed  who  should  remain  quietly  in  their 
houses  ;  or  should  take  refuge  in  the  houses  of 
Abu  Sofian  and  Hakim  ;  or  under  the  banner  of 
Abu  Rawaiha. 

That  Abu  Sofian  might  take  back  to  the  city  a 
.proper  idea  of  the  force  brought  against  it,  he 
was  stationed  with  Al  Abbas  at  a  narrow  defile 
where  the  whole  army  passed  in  review.  As  the 
various  Arab  tribes  marched  by  with  their  differ- 
ent arms  and  ensigns,  Al  Abbas  explained  the 
name  and  country'  of  each.  Abu  Sofian  was  sur- 
prised at  the  number,  discipline,  and  equipment 
of  the  troops  ;  for  the  Moslems  had  been  rapidly 
improving  in  the  means  and  art  of  war  ;  but 
when  Mahomet  approached,  in  the  midst  of  a 
.chosen  guard,  armed  at  all  points  and  glittering 
with  steel,  his  astonishment  passed  all  bounds. 
"  There  is  no  withstanding  this  !"  cried  he  to  Al 
Abbas,  with  an  oath — "  truly  thy  nephew  wields 
a  mighty  power." 

"  Even  so,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  return  then  to 
thy  people  ;  provide  for  their  safety,  and  warn 
them  not  to  oppose  the  apostle  of  God." 

Abu  Sofian  hastened  back  to  Mecca,  and  assem- 


bling the  inhabitants,  told  them  of  the  mighty 
host  at  hand,  led  on  by  Mahomet  ;  of  the  favora- 
ble terms  offered  in  case  of  their  submission,  and 
of  the  vanity  of  all  resistance.  As  Abu  Sofian 
had  been  the  soul  of  the  opposition  to  Mahomet 
and  his  doctrines,  his  words  had  instant  effect  in 
producing  acquiescence  in  an  event  which  seem- 
ed to  leave  no  alternative.  The  greater  part  of 
the  inhabitants,  therefore,  prepared  to  witness, 
without  resistance,  the  entry  of  the  prophet. 

Mahomet,  in  the  mean  time,  who  knew  not  what 
resistance  he  might  meet  with,  made  a  careful 
distribution  of  his  forces  as  he  approached  the 
city.  While  the  main  body  marched  directly  for- 
ward, strong  detachments  advanced  over  the  hills 
on  each  side.  To  Ali,  who  commanded  a  large 
body  of  cavalry,  was  confided  the  sacred  banner, 
which  he  was  to  plant  on  Mount  Hadjun,  and 
maintain  it  there  until  joined  by  the  prophet. 
Express  orders  were  given  to  all  the  generals  to 
practise  forbearance,  and  in  no  instance  to  maka 
the  first  attack  ;  for  it  was  the  earnest  desire  of 
Mahomet  to  win  Mecca  by  moderation  and  clem- 
ency, rather  than  subdue  it  by  violence.  It  is 
true,  all  who  offered  armed  resistance  were  to  be 
cut  down,  but  none  were  to  be  harmed  who  sub- 
mitted quietly.  Overhearing  one  of  his  captains 
exclaim,  in  the  heat  of  his  zeal,  that  "  no  place 
was  sacred  on  the  day  of  battle,"  he  instantly  ap- 
pointed a  cooler-headed  commander  in  his  place. 

The  main  body  of  the  army  advanced  without 
molestation.  Mahomet  brought  up  the  rear- 
guard, clad  in  a  scarlet  vest,  and  mounted  on  his 
favorite  camel  Al  Kaswa.  He  proceeded  but 
slowly,  however  ;  his  movements  being  impeded 
by  the  immense  multitude  which  thronged  around 
him.  Arrived  on  Mount  Hadjun,  where  Ali  had 
planted  the  standard  of  the  faith,  a  tent  was 
pitched  for  him.  Here  he  alighted,  put  off  his 
scarlet  garment,  and  assumed  the  black  turban 
and  the  pilgrim  garb.  Casting  a  look  down  into 
the  plain,  however,  he  beheld,  with  grief  and 
indignation,  the  gleam  of  swords  and  lances,  and 
Khaled,  who  commanded  the  left  wing,  in  a  full 
career  of  carnage.  His  troops,  composed  of  Arab 
tribes  converted  to  the  faith,  had  been  galled  by 
a  flight  of  arrows  from  a  body  of  Koreishites  ; 
whereupon  the  fiery  warrior  charged  into  the 
thickest  of  them  with  sword  and  lance  ;  his  troops 
pressed  after  him  ;  they  put  the  enemy  to  flight, 
entered  the  gates  of  Mecca  pell-mell  with  them, 
and  nothing  but  the  swift  commands  of  Mahomet 
preserved  the  city  from  a  general  massacre. 

The  carnage  being  stopped,  and  no  further  op- 
position manifested,  the  prophet  descended  from 
the  mount  and  approached  the  gates,  seated  on 
his  camel,  accompanied  by  Abu  Beker  on  his 
right  hand,  and  followed  by  Osama,  the  son  of 
Zeicl.  The  sun  was  just  rising  as  he  entered  the 
gates  of  his  native  city,  with  the  glory  of  a  con- 
queror, but  the  garb  and  humility  of  a  pilgrim. 
He  entered,  repeating  verses  of  the  Koran,  which 
he  said  had  been  revealed  to  him  at  Medina,  and 
were  prophetic  of  the  event.  He  triumphed  in 
the  spirit  of  a  religious  zealot,  not  of  a  warrior. 
"  Unto  God,"  said  he,  "  belong  the  hosts  of 
heaven  and  earth,  and  God  is  mighty  and  wise. 
Now  hath  God  verified  unto  his  apostle  the  vision, 
|  wherein  he  said,  ye  shall  surely  enter  the  holy 
temple  of  Mecca  in  full  security." 

Without  dismounting,  Mahomet  repaired  di- 
rectly to  the  Caaba,  the  scene  of  his  early  devo- 
tions, the  sacred  shrine  of  worship  since  the  days 
of  the  patriarchs,  and  which  he  regarded  as  the 
primitive  temple  of  the  one  true  God.  Here  he 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


made  the  seven  circuits  round  the  sacred  edifice, 
a  reverential  rite  from  the  days  of  religious  puri- 
ty ;  with  the  same  devout  feeling  he  each  time 
touched  the  black  stone  with  his  staff  ;  regarding 
it  as  a  holy  relic.  He  would  have  entered  the 
Caaba,  but  Othman  Ibn  Talha,  the  ancient  custo- 
dian, locked  the  door.  Ali  snatched  the  keys, 
but  Mahomet  caused  them  to  be  returned  to  the 
venerable  officer,  and  so  won  him  by  his  kind- 
ness that  he  not  merely  threw  open  the  doors, 
but  subsequently  embraced  the  faith  of  Islam  ; 
whereupon  he  was  continued  in  his  office. 

Mahomet  now  proceeded  to  execute  the  great 
object  of  his  religious  aspirations,  the  purifying 
of  the  sacred  edifice  from  the  symbols  of  idolatry, 
with  which  it  was  crowded.  All  the  idols  in  and 
about  it,  to  the  number  of  three  hundred  and 
sixty,  were  thrown  down  and  destroyed.  Among 
these  the  most  renowned  was  Hobal,  an  idol 
brought  from  Balka,  in  Syria,  and  fabled  to  have 
the  power  of  granting  rain.  It  was,  of  course,  a 
great  object  of  worship  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  thirsty  desert.  There  were  statues  of  Abra- 
ham and  Ishmael  also,  represented  with  divining 
arrows  in  their  hands  ;  "an  outrage  on  their 
memories,"  said  Mahomet,  "  being  symbols  of  a 
diabolical  art  which  they  had  never  practised." 
In  reverence  of  their  memories,  therefore,  these 
statues  were  demolished.  There  were  paintings, 
also,  depicting  angels  in  the  guise  of  beautiful 
women.  "  The  angels,"  said  Mahomet  indig- 
nantly, "  are  no  such  beings.  There  are  celes- 
tial houris  provided  in  paradise  for  the  solace  of 
true  believers  ;  but  angels  are  ministering  spirits 
of  the  Most  High,  and  of  too  pure  a  nature  to 
admit  of  sex."  The  paintings  were  accordingly 
obliterated. 

Even  a  dove,  curiously  carved  of  wood,  he  broke 
with  his  own  hands,  and  cast  upon  the  ground, 
as  savoring  of  idolatry. 

From  the  Caaba  he  proceeded  to  the  well  of 
Zem  Zem.  It  was  sacred  in  his  eyes,  from  his  be- 
lief that  it  was  the  identical  well  revealed  by  the 
angel  to  Hagar  and  Ishmael,  in  their  extremity  ; 
he  considered  the  rite  connected  with  it  as  pure 
and  holy,  and  continued  it  in  his  faith.  As  he 
approached  the  well,  his  uncle  Al  Abbas  pre- 
sented him  a  cruse  of  the  water,  that  he  might 
drink,  and  make  the  customary  ablution.  In 
commemoration  of  this  pious  act,  he  appointed 
his  uncle  guardian  of  the  cup  of  the  well  ;  an 
office  of  sacred  dignity,  which  his  descendants 
retain  to  this  day. 

At  noon  one  of  his  followers,  at  his  command, 
summoned  the  people  to  prayer  from  the  top  of 
the  Caaba,  a  custom  continued  ever  since  through- 
out Mahometan  countries,  from  minarets  or 
towers  provided  in  every  mosque.  He  also  es- 
tablished the  Kebla,  toward  which  the  faithful  in 
every  part  of  the  world  should  turn  their  faces  in 
prayer. 

He  afterward  addressed  the  people  in  a  kind  of 
sermon,  setting  forth  his  principal  doctrines,  and 
announcing  the  triumph  of  the  faith  as  a  fulfil- 
ment of  prophetic  promise.  Shouts  burst  from 
the  multitude  in  reply.  "  Allah  Achbar  !  God 
is  great!"  cried  they.  "There  is  no  God  but 
God,  and  Mahomet  is  his  prophet." 

The  religious  ceremonials  being  ended,  Ma- 
homet took  his  station  on  the  hill  Al  Sata,  and 
the  people  of  Mecca,  male  and  female,  passed 
before  him,  taking  the  oath  of  fidelity  to  him  as 
the  prophet  of  God,  and  renouncing  idolatry. 
This  was  in  compliance  with  a  revelation  in  the 
Koran  :  "  God  hath  sent  his  apostle  with  the  di- 


rection, and  the  religion  of  truth  that  he  may  ex- 
alt the  same  over  every  religion.  Verily,  they 
who  swear  fealty  to  him,  swear  fealty  unto  God  ; 
the  hand  of  God  is  over  their  hands."  In  the 
midst  of  his  triumph,  however,  he  rejected  all 
homage  paid  exclusively  to  himself,  and  all  regal 
authority.  "  Why  dost  thou  tremble  ?"  said  he, 
to  a  man  who  approached  with  timid  and  falter- 
ing steps.  "  Of  what  dost  thou  stand  in  awe  ?  I 
am  no  king,  but  the  son  of  a  Koreishite  woman, 
who  ate  flesh  dried  in  the  sun." 

His  lenity  was  equally  conspicuous.  The  once 
haughty  chiefs  of  the  Koreishites  appeared  with 
abject  countenances  before  the  man  they  had  per- 
secuted, for  their  lives  were  in  his  power. 

"  What  can  you  expect  at  my  hands  ?"  de- 
manded he  sternly. 

"  Mercy,  oh  generous  brother  !  Mercy,  oh 
son  of  a  generous  line  !" 

"  Be  it  so  !"  cried  he,  with  a  mixture  of  scorn 
and  pity.  "  Away  !  begone  !  ye  are  free  !" 

Some  of  his  followers  who  had  shared  his  per- 
secutions were  disappointed  in  their  anticipations 
of  a  bloody  revenge,  and  murmured  at  his  clem- 
ency ;  but  he  persisted  in  it,  and  established 
Mecca  as  an  inviolable  sanctuary,  or  place  of 
refuge,  so  to  continue  until  the  final  resurrection. 
He  reserved  to  himself,  however,  the  right  on  the 
present  occasion,  and  during  that  special  day,  to 
punish  a  few  of  the  people  of  the  city,  who  had 
grievously  offended,  and  been  expressly  pro- 
scribed ;  yet  even  these,  for  the  most  part,  were 
ultimately  forgiven. 

Among  the  Koreishite  women  who  advanced  to 
take  the  oath  he  descried  Henda,  the  wife  of 
Abu  Sofian  ;  the  savage  woman  who  had  ani- 
mated the  infidels  at  the  battle  of  Ohod,  and  had 
gnawed  the  heart  of  Hamza,  in  revenge  for  the 
death  of  her  father.  On  the  present  occasion  she 
had  disguised  herself  to  escape  detection  ;  but 
seeing  the  eyes  of  the  prophet  fixed  on  her,  she 
threw  herself  at  his  feet,  exclaiming,  "  I  am 
Henda:  pardon  !  pardon  •"  Mahomet  pardoned 
her — and  was  requited  for  his  clemency  by  her 
making  his  doctrines  the  subject  of  contemptuous 
sarcasms. 

Among  those  destined  to  punishment  was 
Wacksa,  the  Ethiopian,  who  had  slain  Hamza  ; 
but  he  had  fled  from  Mecca  on  the  entrance  of  the 
army.  At  a  subsequent  period  he  presented  him- 
self before  the  prophet,  and  made  the  profession 
of  faith  before  he  was  recognized.  He  was  forgiv- 
en, and  made  to  relate  the  particulars  of  the  death 
of  Hamza  ;  after  which  Mahomet  dismissed  him 
with  an  injunction  never  again  to  come  into  his 
presence.  He  survived  until  the  time  of  the  Ca- 
liphat  of  Omar,  during  whose  reign  he  was  re- 
peatedly scourged  for  drunkenness. 

Another  of  the  proscribed  was  Abdallah  Ibn 
Saad,  a  young  Koreishite,  distinguished  for  wit 
and  humor  as  well  as  for  warlike  accomplish- 
ments. As  he  held  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer, 
Mahomet  had  employed  him  to  reduce  the  revela- 
tions of  the  Koran  to  writing.  In  so  doing  he 
had  often  altered  and  amended  the  text  ;  nay,  it 
was  discovered  that,  through  carelessness  or  de- 
sign, he  had  occasionally  falsified  it,  and  render- 
ed it  absurd.  He  had  even  made  his  alterations 
and  amendments  matter  of  scoff  and  jest  among 
his  companions,  observing  that  if  the  Koran 
proved  Mahomet  to  be  a  prophet,  he  himself  must 
be  half  a  prophet.  His  interpolations  being  de- 
tected, he  had  fled  from  the  wrath  of  the  prophet, 
and  returned  to  Mecca,  where  he  relapsed  into 
idolatry.  On  the  capture  ot  the  city  his  foster- 


THE.  KAATERSKILL    IRVINO 


Copyright  1881  by  POLLARD  &  MOSS 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


55 


brother  concealed  him  in  his  house  until  the  tu- 
mult had  subsided,  when  he  led  him  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  prophet,  and  supplicated  for  his  par- 
don. This  was  the  severest  trial  of  the  lenity  of 
Mahomet.  The  offender  had  betrayed  his  confi- 
dence ;  held  him  up  to  ridicule  ;  questioned  his 
apostolic  mission,  and  struck  at  the  very  founda- 
tion of  his  faith.  For  some  time  he  maintained  a 
stern  silence,  hqping,  as  he  afterward  declared, 
some  zealous  disciple  might  strike  off  the  offend- 
er's head.  No  one,  however,  stirred  ;  so,  yield- 
ing to  the  entreaties  of  Othman,  he  granted  a 
pardon.  Abdallah  instantly  renewed  his  profes- 
sion of  faith,  and  continued  a  good  Mussulman. 
His  name  will  be  found  in  the  wars  of  the  Caliphs. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  dexterous  horsemen  of 
his  tribe,  and  evinced  his  ruling  passion  to  the 
last,  for  he  died  repeating  the  hundredth  chapter 
of  the  Koran,  entitled  "  The  war  steeds."  Per- 
haps it  was  one  which  had  experienced  his  inter- 
polations. 

Another  of  the  proscribed  was  Akrema  Ibn 
Abu  Jahl,  who  on  many  occasions  had  manifest- 
ed a  deadly  hostility  to  the  prophet,  inherited 
from  his  father.  On  the  entrance  of  Mahomet 
into  Mecca,  Akrema  threw  himself  upon  a  fleet 
horse,  and  escaped  by  an  opposite  gate,  leaving 
behind  him  a  beautiful  wife,  Omm  Hakem,  to 
whom  he  was  recently  married.  She  embraced 
the  faith  of  Islam,  but  soon  after  learnt  that  her 
husband,  in  attempting  to  escape  by  sea  to  Ye- 
men, had  been  driven  back  to  port.  Hastening 
to  the  presence  of  the  prophet,  she  threw  herself 
on  her  knees  before  him,  loose,  dishevelled,  and 
unveiled,  and  implored  grace  for  her  husband. 
The  prophet,  probably  more  moved  by  her  beauty 
than  her  grief,  raised  her  gently  from  the  earth, 
and  told  her  her  prayer  was  granted.  Hurrying 
to  the  seaport,  she  arrived  just  as  the  vessel  in 
which  her  husband  had  embarked  was  about  to 
sail.  She  returned,  mounted  behind  him,  to 
Mecca,  and  brought  him,  a  true  believer,  into  the 
presence  of  the  prophet.  On  this  occasion,  how- 
ever, she  was  so  closely  veiled  that  her  dark  eyes 
alone  were  visible.  Mahomet  received  Akrema's 
profession  of  faith  ;  made  him  commander  of  a 
battalion  of  Hawazenites,  as  the  dower  of  his 
beautiful  and  devoted  wife,  and  bestowed  liberal 
donations  on  the  youthful  couple.  Like  many 
other  converted  enemies,  Akrema  proved  a  val- 
iant soldier  in  the  wars  of  the  faith,  and  after  sig- 
nalizing himself  on  various  occasions,  fell  in  bat- 
tle, hacked  and  pierced  by  swords  and  lances. 

The  whole  condutt  of  Mahomet,  on  gaining 
possession  of  Mecca,  showed  that  it  was  a  relig- 
ious more  than  a  military  triumph.  His  heart, 
too,  softened  toward  his  native  place,  now  that  it 
was  in  his  power  ;  his  resentments  were  extin- 
guished by  success,  and  his  inclinations  were  all 
toward  forgiveness. 

The  Ansarians,  or  Auxiliaries  of  Medina,  who 
had  aided  him  in  his  campaign,  began  to  fear  that 
its  success  might  prove  fatal  to  their  own  inter- 
ests. They  watched  him  anxiously,  as  one  day, 
after  praying  on  the  hill  Al  Safa,  he  sat  gazing 
down  wistfully  upon  Mecca,  the  scene  of  his  early 
struggles  and  recent  glory  :  "  Verily,"  said  he, 
"  thou  art  the  best  of  cities,  and  the  most  beloved 
of  Allah  !  Had  I  not  been  driven  out  from  thee 
by  my  own  tribe,  never  would  I  have  left  thee  !" 
On  hearing  this,  the  Ansarians  said,  one  to 
another,  "  Behold  !  Mahomet  is  conqueror  and 
master  of  his  native  city  ;  he  will,  doubtless,  es- 
tablish himself  here,  and  forsake  Medina  !" 
Their  words  reached  his  ear,  and  he  turned  to 


them  with  reproachful  warmth  :  "  No  !"  cried 
he,  "  when  you  plighted  to  me  your  allegiance,  I 
swore  to  live  and  die  with  you.  I  should  not  act 
as  the  servant  of  God,  nor  as  his  ambassador, 
were  I  to  leave  you." 

He  acted  according  to  his  words,  and  Medina, 
which  had  been  his  city  of  refuge,  continued  to 
be  his  residence  to  his  dying  day. 

Mahomet  did  not  content  himself  with  purify- 
ing the  Caaba  and  abolishing  idolatry  from  his 
native  city  ;  he  sent  forth  his  captains  at  the  head 
of  armed  bands,  to  cast  down  the  idols  of  differ- 
ent tribes  set  up  in  the  neighboring  towns  and 
villages,  and  to  convert  their  worshippers  to  his 
faith. 

Of  all  these  military  apostles,  none  was  so  zeal- 
ous as  Khaled,  whose  spirit  was  still  fermenting 
with  recent  conversion.  Arriving  at  Naklah,  the 
resort  of  the  idolatrous  Koreishites,  to  worship  at 
the  shrine  of  Uzza,  he  penetrated  the  sacred 
grove,  laid  waste  the  temple,  and  cast  the  idol  to 
the  ground.  A  horrible  hag,  black  and  naked, 
with  dishevelled  hair,  rushed  forth,  shrieking  and 
wringing  her  hands  ;  but  Kahled  severed  her 
through  the  middle  with  one  blow  of  his  scimetar. 
He  reported  the  deed  to  Mahomet,  expressing  a 
doubt  whether  she  were  priestess  or  evil  spirit. 
"  Of  a  truth,"  replied  the  prophet,  "  it  was  Uzza 
herself  whom  thou  hast  destroyed." 

On  a  similar  errand  into  the  neighboring  prov- 
ince of  Tehama,  Khaled  had  with  him  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men,  some  of  them  of  the  tribe  of 
Suleim,  and  was  accompanied  by  Abda'lrahman, 
one  of  the  earliest  proselytes  of  the  faith.  His  in- 
structions from  the  prophet  were  to  preach  peace 
and  good-will,  to  inculcate  the  faith,  and  to  ab- 
stain from  violence,  unless  assailed.  When 
about  two  days'  journey  on  his  way  to  Tehama, 
he  had  to  pass  through  the  country  of  the  tribe  of 
Jadsima.  Most  of  the  inhabitants  had  embraced 
the  faith,  but  some  were  still  of  the  Sabean  re- 
ligion. On  a  former  occasion  this  tribe  had 
plundered  and  slain  an  uncle  of  Khaled,  also  the 
father  of  Abda'lrahman,  and-severalSuleimites,  as 
they  were  returning  from  Arabia  Felix.  Dread- 
ing that  Khaled  and  his  host  might  take  ven- 
geance for  these  misdeeds,  they  armed  themselves 
on  their  approach. 

Khaled  was  secretly  rejoiced  at  seeing  them 
.ride  forth  to  meet  him  in  this  military  array. 
Hailing  them  with  an  imperious  tone,  he  de- 
manded whether  they  were  Moslems  or  infidels. 
They  replied,  in  faltering  accents,  "Moslems." 
"Why,  then,  come  ye  forth  to  meet  us  with 
weapons  in  your  hands  ?"  "  Because  we  have 
enemies  among  some  of  the  tribes  who  may  at- 
tack us  unawares." 

Khaled  sternly  ordered  them  to  dismount  and 
lay  by  their  weapons.  Some  complied,  and  were 
instantly  seized  and  bound  ;  the  rest  fled.  Taking 
their  flight  as  a  confession  of  guilt,  he  pursued 
them  with  great  slaughter,  laid  waste  the  coun- 
try, and  in  the  effervescence  of  his  zeal  even* slew 
some  of  the  prisoners. 

Mahomet,  when  he  heard  of  this  unprovoked 
outrage,  raised  his  hands  to  heaven,  and  called 
God  to  witness  that  he  was  innocent  of  it.  Kha- 
led, when  upbraided  with  it  on  his  return,  would 
fain  have  shifted  the  blame  on  Abda'lrahman, 
but  Mahomet  rejected  indignantly  an  imputation 
against  one  of  the  earliest  and  worthiest  of  his  fol- 
lowers. The  generous  AH  was  sent  forthwith  to 
restore  to  the  people  of  Jadsima  what  Khaled  had 
wrested  from  them,  and  to  make  pecuniary  com- 
pensation to  the  relatives  ot  the  slain.  It  was  a 


56 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


mission  congenial  with  his  nature,  and  he  exe-  | 
cuted  it  faithfully.  Inquiring  into  the  losses  and 
sufferings  of  each  individual,  he  paid  him  to  his 
full  content.  When  every  loss  was  made  good, 
and  all  blood  atoned  for,  he  distributed  the  re- 
maining money  among  the  people,  gladdening 
every  heart  by  his  bounty.  So  AH  received  the 
thanks  and  praises  of  the  prophet,  but  the  vindic- 
tive Khaled  was  rebuked  even  by  those  whom  he 
had  thought  to  please. 

"  Behold  !' '  said  he  to  Abda  'Irahman,  "  I  have 
avenged  the  death  of  thy  father. "  "  Rather  say , " 
replied  the  other  indignantly,  "  thou  hast  avenged 
the  death  of  thine  uncle.  Thou  hast  disgraced 
the  faith  by  an  act  worthy  of  an  idolater." 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

HOSTILITIES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS — ENEMY'S  CAMP 
IN  THE  VALLEY  OF  AUTAS— BATTLE  AT  THE 
PASS  OF  HONEIN— CAPTURE  OF  THE  ENEMY'S 
CAMP — INTERVIEW  OF  MAHOMET  WITH  THE 
NURSE  OF  HIS  CHILDHOOD — DIVISION  OF  SPOIL 
— MAHOMET  AT  HIS  MOTHER'S  GRAVE. 

WHILE  the  military  apostles  of  Mahomet  were 
spreading  his  doctrines  at  the  point  of  the  sword 
in  the  plains,  a  hostile  storm  was  gathering  in 
the  mountains.  A  league  was  formed  among  the 
Thakefites,  the  Hawazins,  the  Joshmites,  the 
Saadites,  and  several  other  of  the  hardy  mountain 
tribes  of  Bedouins,  to  check  a  power  which 
threatened  to  subjugate  all  Arabia.  The  Saad- 
ites, or  Beni  Sad,  here  mentioned,  are  the  same 
pastoral  Arabs  among  whom  Mahomet  had  been 
nurtured  in  his  childhood,  and  in  whose  valley, 
according  to  tradition,  his  heart  had  been  plucked 
forth  and  purified  by  an  angel.  The  Thakefites, 
who  were  foremost  in  the  league,  were  a  powerful 
tribe,  possessing  the  strong  mountain  town  of 
Tayef  and  its  productive  territory.  They  were 
bigoted  idolaters,  maintaining  at  their  capital  the 
far-famed  shrine  of  the  female  idol  Al  Lat.  The 
reader  will  remember  the  ignominious  treatment 
of  Mahomet,  when  he  attempted  to  preach  his 
doctrines  at  Tayef  ;  being  stoned  in  the  public 
square,  and  ultimately  driven  with  insult  from  the 
gates.  It  was  probably  a  dread  of  vengeance  at- 
his  hands  which  now  made  the  Thakefites  so  ac- 
tive in  forming  a  league  against  him. 

Malec  Ibn  Auf,  the  chief  of  the  Thakefites,  had 
the  general  command  of  the  confederacy.  He  ap- 
pointed the  valley  of  Autas,  between  Honein  and 
Tayef,  as  the  place  of  assemblage  and  encamp- 
ment ;  and  as  he  knew  the  fickle  nature  of  the 
Arabs,  and  their  proneness  to  return  home  on  the 
least  caprice,  he  ordered  them  to  bring  with  them 
their  families  and  effects.  They  assembled,  ac- 
cordingly, from  various  parts,  to  the  number  of 
four  thousand  fighting  men  ;  but  the  camp  was 
crowded  with  women  and  children,  and  incum- 
bered  with  flocks  and  herds. 

The  expedient  of  Malec  Ibn  Auf  to  secure  the 
adhesion  of  the  warriors  was  strongly  disapprov- 
ed by  Doraid,  the  chief  of  the  Joshmites.  This 
was  an  ancient  warrior,  upward  of  a  hundred 
years  old  ;  meagre  as  a  skeleton,  almost  blind, 
and  so  feeble  that  he  had  to  be  borne  in  a  litter 
on  the  back  of  a  camel.  Still,  though  unable  to 
mingle  in  battle,  he  was  potent  in  council  from  his 
military  experience.  This  veteran  of  the  desert 
advised  that  the  women  and  children  should  be 
sent  home  forthwith,  and  the  army  relieved  from 


all  unnecessary  incumbrances.  His  advice  wag 
not  taken,  and  the  valley  of  Autas  continued  to 
present  rather  the  pastoral  encampment  of  a 
tribe  than  the  hasty  levy  of  an  army. 

In  the  mean  time  Mahomet,  hearing  of  the  gath- 
ering storm,  had  sallied  forth  to  anticipate  it,  at 
the  head  of  about  twelve  thousand  troops,  partly 
fugitives  from  Mecca  and  auxiliaries  from  Me- 
dina, partly  Arabs  of  the  desert,  some  of  whom  had 
not  yet  embraced  the  faith. 

In  taking  the  field  he  wore  a  polished  cuirass 
and  helmet,  and  rode  his  favorite  white  mule  Dal- 
dal,  seldom  mounting  a  charger,  as  he  rarely 
mingled  in  actual  fight.  His  recent  successes 
and  his  superiority  in  numbers  making  him  con- 
fident of  an  easy  victory,  he  entered  the  mountains 
without  precaution,  and  pushing  forward  for  the 
enemy's  camp  at  Mutas,  came  to  a  deep  gloomy 
valley  on  the  confines  of  Honein.  The  troops 
marched  without  order  through  the  rugged  defile, 
each  one  choosing  his  own  path.  Suddenly  they 
were  assailed  by  showers  of  darts,  stones,  and  ar- 
rows, which  lay  two  or  three  of  Mahomet's  sol- 
diers dead  at  his  feet,  and  wounded  several  others. 
Malec,  in  fact,  had  taken  post  with  his  ablest  war- 
riors about  the  heights  commanding  this  narrow 
gorge.  Every  cliff  and  cavern  was  garrisoned 
with  archers  and  slingers,  and  some  rushed  down 
to  contend  at  close  quarters. 

Struck  with  a  sudden  panic,  the  Moslems  turn- 
ed and  fled.  In  vain  did  Mahomet  call  upon  them 
as  their  general,  or  appeal  to  them  as  the  prophet 
of  God.  Each  man  sought  but  his  own  safety, 
and  an  escape  from  this  horrible  valley. 

For  a  moment  all  seemed  lost,  and  some  re- 
cent but  unwilling  converts  betrayed  an  exulta- 
tion in  the  supposed  reverse  of  fortune  of  the 
prophet. 

"  By  heavens  !"  cried  Abu  Sofian,  as  he  looked 
after  the  flying  Moslems,  "  nothing  will  stop  them 
until  they  reach  the  sea." 

"  Ay,"  exclaimed  another,  "  the  magic  power 
of  Mahomet  is  at  An  end  !" 

A  third,  who  cherished  a  lurking  revenge  for 
the  death  of  his  father,  slain  by  the  Moslems  in 
the  battle  of  Ohod,  would  have  killed  the  prophet 
in  the  confusion,  had  he  not  been  surrounded  and 
protected  by  a  few  devoted  followers.  Mahomet 
himself,  in  an  impulse  of  desperation,  spurred  his 
mule  upon  the  enemy  ;  but  Al  Abbas  seized  the 
bridle,  stayed  him  from  rushing  to  certain  death, 
and  at  the  same  time  put  up  a  shout  that  ech- 
oed through  the  narrow  valley.  Al  Abbas  was 
renowned  for  strength  of  lungs,  and  atthis  critical 
moment  it  was  the  salvation  of  the  army.  The 
Moslems  rallied  when  they  heard  his  well-known 
voice,  and  finding  they  were  not  pursued  returned 
to  the  combat.  The  enemy  had  descended  from 
the  heights,  and  now  a  bloody  conflict  ensued  in 
the  defile.  "The  furnace  is  kindling,"  cried 
Mahomet  exultingly,  as  he  saw  the  glitter  of 
arms  and  flash  of  weapons.  Stooping  from  his 
saddle  and  grasping  a  handful  of  dust,  he  scat- 
tered it  in  the  air  toward  the  enemy.  "  Confu- 
sion on  their  faces  !"  cried  he,  "  may  this  dust 
blind  them  !"  They  were  blinded  accordingly, 
and  fled  in  confusion,  say  the  Moslem  writers  ; 
though  their  defeat  may  rather  be  attributed  to 
the  Moslem  superiority  of  force  and  the  zeal  in- 
spired by  the  exclamations  of  the  prophet.  Malec 
and  the  Thakefites  took  refuge  in  the  distant  city 
of  Tayef,  the  rest  retreated  to  the  camp  in  the 
valley  of  Autas. 

While  Mahomet  remained  in  the  valley  of 
Honein,  he  sent  Abu  Amir,  with  a  strong  forcei 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


57 


to  attack  the  camp.  The  Hawazins  made  a  brave 
defence.  Abu  Amir  was  slain  ;  but  his  nephew, 
Abu  Musa,  took  the  command,  and  obtained  a 
complete  victory,  killing  many  of  the  enemy.  The 
camp  afforded  great  booty  and  many  captives, 
from  the  unwise  expedient  of  Malec  Ibn  Auf,  in 
incumbering  it  with  the  families  and  effects,  the 
flocks  and  herds  of  the  confederates  ;  and  from 
his  disregard  of  the  sage  advice  of  the  veteran 
Doraid.  The  fate  of  that  ancient  warrior  of  the 
desert  is  worthy  of  mention.  While  the  Moslem 
troops,  scattered  through  the  camp,  were  intent 
on  booty,  Rabia  Ibn  Rafi,  a  young  Suleimite,  ob- 
served a  litter  borne  off  on  the  back  of  a  camel, 
and  pursued  it,  supposing  it  to  contain  some  beau- 
tiful female.  On  overtaking  it,  and  drawing  the 
curtain,  he  beheld  the  skeleton  form  of  the  ancient 
Doraid.  Vexed  and  disappointed,  he  struck  at  him 
with  his  sword,  but  the  weapon  broke  in  his  hand. 
"Thy  mother,"  said  the  old  man  sneeringly, 
"  has  furnished  thee  with  wretched  weapons  ; 
thou  wilt  find  a  better  one  hanging  behind  my 
saddle." 

The  youth  seized  it,  but  as  he  drew  it  from  the 
scabbard,  Doraid  perceiving  that  he  was  a  Sulei- 
mite, exclaimed,  "  Tell  thy  mother  thou  hast  slain 
Doraid  Ibn  Simma,  who  has  protected  many  wom- 
en of  her  tribe  in  the  day  of  battle."  The  words 
were  ineffectual  ;  the  skull  of  the  veteran  was 
cloven  with  his  own  scimetar.  When  Rabia,  on 
his  return  to  Mecca,  told  his  mother  of  the  deed, 
"  Thou  hast  indeed  slain  a  benefactor  of  thy 
race,"  said  she  reproachfully.  "  Three  women 
of  thy  family  has  Doraid  Ibn  Simma  treed  from 
captivity. " 

Abu  Musa  returned  in  triumph  to  Mahomet, 
making  a  great  display  of  the  spoils  of  the  camp 
of  Autas,  and  the  women  and  children  whom  he 
had  captured.  One  of  the  female  captives  threw 
herself  at  the  feet  of  the  prophet,  and  implored  his 
mercy  as  his  foster-sister  Al  Shima,  the  daughter 
of  his  nurse  Halema,  who  had  nurtured  him  in 
the  Saadite  valley.  Mahomet  sought  in  vain  to 
recognize  in  her  withered  features  the  bright  play- 
mate of  his  infancy,  but  she  laid  bare  her  back, 
and  showed  a  scar  where  he  had  bitten  her  in 
their  childish  gambols.  He  no  longer  doubted  ; 
but  treated  her  with  kindness,  giving  her  the 
choice  either  to  remain  with  him  and  under  his 
protection,  or  to  return  to  her  home  and  kindred. 

A  scruple  rose  among  the  Moslems  with  respect 
to  their  female  captives.  Could  they  take  to  them- 
selves such  as  were  married,  without  committing 
the  sin  of  adultery  ?  The  revelation  of  a  text  of 
the  Koran  put  an  end  to  the  difficulty.  "  Ye  shall 
not  take  to  wife  free  women  who  are  married  un- 
less your  right  hand  shall  have  made  them 
slaves."  According  to  this  all  women  taken  in 
war  may  be  made  the  wives  of  the  captors,  though 
their  former  husbands  be  living.  The  victors  of 
Honein  failed  not  to  take  immediate  advantage  of 
this  law. 

Leaving  the  captives  and  the  booty  in  a  secure 
place,  and  properly  guarded,  Mahomet  now  pro- 
ceeded in  pursuit  of  the  Thakefites  who  had  taken 
refuge  in  Tayef.  A  sentiment  of  vengeance 
mingled  with  his  pious  ardor  as  he  approached 
this  idolatrous  place,  the  scene  of  former  injury 
and  insult,  and  beheld  the  gate  whence  he  had 
once  been  ignominiously  driven  forth.  The  walls 
were  too  strong,  however  to  be  stormed,  and 
there  was  a  protecting  castle  ;  for  the  first  time, 
therefore,  he  had  recourse  to  catapults,  battering- 
rams,  and  other  engines  used  in  sieges,  but  un- 
known in  Arabian  warfare.  These  were  prepared 


under  the  direction  of  Salman  al   Farsi,  the  con- 
verted Persian. 

The  besieged,  however,  repulsed  every  attack, 
galling  the  assailants  with  darts  and  arrows,  and 
pouring  down  melted  iron  upon  the  shields  of 
bull-hides,  undercover!  of  which  they  approached 
the  walls.  Mahomet  now  laid  waste  the  fields, 
the  orchards,  and  vineyards,  and  proclaimed  free- 
dom to  all  slaves  who  should  desert  from  the  city. 
For  twenty  days  he  carried  on  an  ineffectual  siege 
— daily  offering  up  prayers  midway  between  the 
tents  of  his  wives  Omm  Salama  and  Zeinab,  to 
whom  it  had  fallen  by  lot  to  accompany  him  in 
this  campaign.  His  hopes  of  success  began  to 
fail,  and  he  was  further  discouraged  by  a  dream, 
which  was  unfavorably  interpreted  by  Abu  Beker, 
renowned  for  his  skill  in  expounding  visions.  He 
would  have  raised  the  siege,  but  his  troops  mur- 
mured ;  whereupon  he  ordered  an  assault  upon 
one  of  the  gates.  As  usual,  it  was  obstinately 
defended  ;  numbers  were  slain  on  both  sides  ; 
Abu  Sofian,  who*  fought  valiantly  on  the  occasion, 
lost  an  eye,  and  the  Moslems,  were  finally  re- 
pulsed. 

Mahomet  now  broke  op  his  camp,  promising 
his  troops  to  renew  the  siege  at  a  future  day,  and 
proceeded  to  the  place  where  were  collected  the 
spoils  of  his  expedition.  These,  say  Arabian  wri- 
ters, amounted  to'  twenty-four  thousand  camels, 
forty  thousand,  sheep,  four  thousand  ounces  of 
silver,  and  six  thousand  captives-. 

In  a  little  while  appeared  a  deputation  from  the 
Hawazins,  declaring  the  submission  of  their  tribe, 
and  begging  the  restoration  o4  their  families  and 
effects.  With  them  came  Halema,  Mahomet's 
foster-nurse,  now  well  stricken*  in  years.  The 
recollections  of  his.  childhood  again  pleaded  with 
his  heart.  "  Which  is-  dearest  to  you,"  said  he 
to  the  Hawazins,.  "  your  families  OT  your  goods  ?" 
They  replied,  "  Our  families-." 

"  Enough,"  rejoined  he,  "  as  far  as  it  concerns 
Al  Abbas  and  myself,  we  are  ready  to  give  up 
our  share  of  the  prisoners  ;  but  there  are  others 
to  be  moved.  Come  to  me  after  noontide  prayer, 
and  say,  '  We  implore  the  ambassador  of  God  that 
he  counsel  his  followers-  to  return  us-  our  wives 
and  children  ;  and  we  implore-  his  followers  that 
they  intercede  with  him  in  our  favor.'  ' 

The  envoys  did  as  he  advised'.  Mahon*st  and 
Al  Abbas  immediately  renounced  their  share  of 
the  captives  ;  their  example  was-  followed;  by  all 
excepting  the  tribes  of  Tamiiw  and  Faizara,  but 
Mahomet  brought  them  to>  consent  by  pro-mi-sing 
them  a  sixfold  share  of  the  prisoners  take®  in)  the 
next  expedition.  Thus  the  intercession  oi  Hal£ma 
procured  the  deliverance  ot  all  tfie?  captives  ©i  her 
tribe.  A  traditional  anecdote  shows?  the  deference 
with  which  Mahomet  treated  this-  h-tiUrobDc  pro- 
tector of  his  infancy.  "I  was-  sitting  with  the 
prophet,"  said  one  of  his  disciples-,  "  wfen  all  of 
a  sudden  a  woman  presented  herself  ami  he  rose 
and  spread  his  cloth  for  her  tfin  sits  down  upon. 
When  she  went  away,  it  was-  observed,  '  That 
woman  suckled  the  prophet.'  "' 

Mahomet  now  sent  an  ewv&y  t<5>  Malec,  who 
remained  shut  up  in  Tayef,  offering;  the  restitu- 
tion of  all  the  spoils  taken?  iv&rtf  hina  at  Honein, 
and  a  present  of  one  hundred)  «SMWds,  if  he  would 
submit  and  embrace  the  iaitihs.,  ^ Malec  was  con^ 
quered  and  converted  by  tihis«  Mineral  offer,  and! 
brought  several  of  his  confederate;  tribes  with  htm. 
to  the  standard  of  the  prophet..  He  was  imme- 
diately made  their  chiei  ;  and  proved,  subse-. 
quently,  a  severe  scourge  imUihe  cause  of  the  (a.Uh 
to  his  late  associates  the  "Thakefites. 


58 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS    SUCCESSORS. 


The  Moslems  now  began  to  fear  that  Mahomet, 
in  these  magnanimous  impulses,  might  squander 
away  all  the  gains  of  their  recent  battles  ;  throng- 
ing round  him,  therefore,  they  clamored  for  a  di- 
vision ot  the  spoils  and  captives.  Regarding 
them  indignantly,  "Have  you  ever,"  said  he, 
"found  me  avaricious,  or  false,  or  disloyal?" 
Then  plucking  a  hair  from  the  back  of  a  camel, 
and  raising  his  voice,  "  By  Allah  !"  cried  he,  "  I 
have  never  taken  from  the  common  spoil  the 
value  of  that  camel's  hair  more  than  my  fifth, 
and  that  fifth  has  always  been  expended  for  your 
good." 

,  He  then  shared  the  booty  as  usual  ;  four  fifths 
among  the  troops  ;  but  his  own  fifth  he  distrib- 
uted among  those  whose  fidelity  he  wished  to  in- 
sure. The  Koreishites  he  considered  dubious 
allies  ;  perhaps  he  had  overheard  the  exultation 
of  some  of  them  in  anticipation  of  his  defeat  ;  he 
now  sought  to  rivet  them  to  him  by  gifts.  To 
Abu  Sofian  he  gave  one  hundred  camels  and  forty 
okks  of  silver,  in  compensation  for  the  eye  lost  in 
the  attack  on  the  gate  of  Tayef.  To  Akrema  Ibn 
Abu  Jahl,  and  others  of  like  note,  he  gave  in  due 
proportions,  and  all  from  his  own  share. 

Among  the  lukewarm  converts  thus  propitiated, 
was  Abbas  Ibn  Mardas,  a  poet.  He  was  dissatis- 
fied with  his  share,  and  vented  his  discontent  in 
satirical  verses.  Mahomet  overheard  him. 
"  Take  that  man  hence,"  said  he,  "  and  cut  out 
his  tongue."  Omar,  ever  ready  for  rigorous 
measures',  would  have  executed  the  sentence  lit- 
erally, and  on  the  spot  ;  but  others,  better  in- 
structed in  the  prophet's  meaning,  led  Abbas,  all 
trembling,  to  the  public  square  where  the  cap- 
tured cattle  were  collected,  and  bade  him  choose 
what  he  liked  from  among  them. 

"  What  !"  cried  the  poet  joyously,  relieved 
from  the  horrors  of  mutilation,  "  is  this  the  way 
the  prophet  would  silence  my  tongue  ?  By  Al- 
lah !  I  will  take  nothing."  Mahomet,  however, 
persisted  in  his  politic  generosity,  and  sent  him 
sixty  camels.  From  that  time  forward  the  poet 
was  never  weary  of  chanting  the  liberality  of  the 
prophet. 

While  thus  stimulating  the  good-will  of  luke- 
warm proselytes  of  Mecca,  Mahomet  excited  the 
murmurs  of  his  auxiliaries  of  Medina.  "See," 
said  they,  "  how  he  lavishes  gifts  upon  the  treach- 
erous Koreishites,  while  we,  who  have  been  loyal 
to  him  through  all  dangers,  receive  nothing  but 
our  naked  share.  What  have  we  done  that  we 
should  be  thus  thrown  into  the  background  ?" 

Mahomet  was  told  of  their  murmurs,  and  sum- 
moned their  leaders  to  his  tent.  "  Hearken,  ye 
men  of  Medina,"  said  he  ;  "  were  ye  not  in  dis- 
cord among  yourselves,  and  have  I  not  brought 
you  into  harmony  ?  Were  ye  not  in  error,  and 
nave  I  not  brought  you  into  the  path  of  truth  ? 
Were  ye  not  poor,  and  have  I  not  made  you 
rich  ?" 

They  acknowledged  the  truth  of  his  words. 
"  Look  ye  !"  continued  he,  "  I  came  among  you 
stigmatized  as  a  liar,  yet  you  believed  in  me  ; 
persecuted,  yet  you  protected  me  ;  a  fugitive,  yet 
you  sheltered  me  ;  helpless,  yet  you  aided  me. 
Think  you  I  do  not  feel  all  this  ?  Think  you  I 
can  be  ungrateful  ?  You  complain  that  I  bestow 
gifts  upon  these  people,  and  give  none  to  you.  It 
is  true,  I  give  them  worldly  gear,  but  it  is  to  win 
their  worldly  hearts.  To  you,  who  have  been 
true,  I  give— myself  !  They  return  home  with 
sheep  and  camels  ;  ye  return  with  the  prophet  of 
God  among  you.  For  by  him  in  whose  hands  is 
the  soul  of  Mahomet,  though  the  whole  world 


should  go  one  way  and  ye  another,  I  would  re- 
main with  you  !  Which  of  you,  then,  have  I 
most  rewarded  ?" 

The  auxiliaries  were  moved  even  to  tears  by 
this  appeal.  "Oh,  prophet  of  God,"  exclaimed 
they,  "  we  are  content  with  our  lot  !" 

The  booty  being  divided,  Mahomet  returned  to 
Mecca,  not  with  the  parade  and  exultation  of  a 
conqueror,  but  in  pilgrim  garb,  to  complete  the 
rites  of  his  pilgrimage.  All  these  being  scrupu- 
lously performed,  he  appointed  Moad  Ibn  Jabal  as 
iman,  or  pontiff,  to  instruct  the  people  in  the  doc- 
trines ot  Islam,  and  gave  the  government  of  the 
city  into  the  hands  of  Otab,  a  youth  but  eighteen 
years  of  age  ;  after  which  he  bade  farewell  to  his 
native  place,  and  set  out  with  his  troops  on  the 
return  to  Medina. 

Arriving  at  the  village  of  A4»Abwa,  where  his 
mother  was  buried,  his  heart  yearned  to  pay  a 
filial  tribute  to  her  memory,  but  his  own  revealed 
law  forbade  any  respect  to  the  grave  of  one  who 
had  died  in  unbelief.  In  the  strong  agitation  of 
his  feelings  he  implored  from  heaven  a  relaxation 
of  this  law.  If  there  was  any  deception  on  an 
occasion  ot  this  kind,  one  would  imagine  it  must 
have  been  self-deception,  and  that  he  really  be- 
lieved in  a  fancied  intimation  from  heaven  relax- 
ing the  law,  in  part,  in  the  present  instance,  and 
permitting  him  to  visit  the  grave.  He  burst  into 
tears  on  arriving  at  this  trying  place  of  the  ten- 
derest  affections  ;  but  tears  were  all  the  filial  trib- 
ute he  was  permitted  to  offer.  "  I  asked  leave  of 
God,"  said  he  mournfully,  "  to  visit  my  mother's 
grave,  and  it  was  granted  ;  but  when  I  asked 
leave  to  pray  for  her,  it  was  denied  me  !" 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

DEATH  OF  THE  PROPHET'S  DAUGHTER  ZEINAB— 
BIRTH  OF  HIS  SON  IBRAHIM — DEPUTATIONS 
FROM  DISTANT  TRIBES — POETICAL  CONTEST  IN 
PRESENCE  OF  THE  PROPHET — HIS  SUSCEPTI- 
BILITY TO  THE  CHARMS  OF  POETRY — REDUC- 
TION OF  THE  CITY  OF  TAYEF  ;  DESTRUCTION 
OF  ITS  IDOLS — NEGOTIATION  WITH  AMIR  IBN 
TAFIEL,  A  PROUD  BEDOUIN  CHIEF  ;  INDE- 
PENDENT SPIRIT  OF  THE  LATTER — INTERVIEW 
OF  ADI,  ANOTHER  CHIEF,  WITH  MAHOMET. 

SHORTLY  after  his  return  to  Medina,  Mahomet 
was  afflicted  by  the  death  of  his  daughter  Zeinab, 
the  same  who  had  been  given  up  to  him  in  ex- 
change for  her  husband  Abul  Aass,  the  unbe- 
liever, captured  at  the  battle  of  Beder.  The  do- 
mestic affections  of  the  prophet  were  strong,  and 
he  felt  deeply  this  bereavement  ;  he  was  consoled, 
however,  by  the  birth  of  a  son,  by  his  favorite 
concubine  Mariyah.  He  called  the  child  Ibrahim, 
and  rejoiced  in  the  hope  that  this  son  of  his  old 
age,  his  only  male  issue  living,  would  continue 
his  name  to  after  generations. 

His  fame,  either  as  a  prophet  or  a  conqueror, 
was  now  spreading  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  Ara- 
bia, and  deputations  from  distant  tribes  were  con- 
tinually arriving  at  Medina,  some  acknowledging 
him  as  a  prophet  and  embracing  Islamism  ;  others 
submitting  to  him  as  a  temporal  sovereign,  and 
agreeing  to  pay  tribute.  The  talents  of  Mahomet 
rose  to  the  exigency  of  the  moment  ;  his  views  ex. 
panded  with  his  fortunes,  and  he  now  proceeded 
with  statesmanlike  skill  to  regulate  the  fiscal  con- 
cerns of  his  rapidly  growing  empire.  Under  the 
specious  appellation  of  alms,  a  contribution  was 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


59 


levied  on  true  believers,  amounting1  to  a  tithe  of 
the  productions  of  the  earth,  where  it  was  fertil- 
ized by  brooks  and  rain  ;  and  a  twentieth  part 
where  its  fertility  was  the  result  of  irrigation. 
For  every  ten  camels  two  sheep  were  required  ; 
for  forty  head  of  cattle,  one  cow  ;  for  thirty  head, 
a  two  years'  calf  ;  for  every  forty  sheep,  one  ; 
whoever  contributed  more  than  at  this  rate  would 
be  considered  so  much  the  more  devout,  and 
would  gain  a  proportionate  favor  in  the  eyes  of 
God. 

The  tribute  exacted  from  those  who  submitted 
to  temporal  sway,  but  continued  in  unbelief,  was 
at  the  rate  of  one  dinar  in  money  or  goods,  for 
each  adult  person,  bond  or  free. 

Some  difficulty  occurred  in  collecting  the  chari- 
table contributions  ;  the  proud  tribe  of  Tamim 
openly  resisted  th^n,  and  drove  away  the  col- 
lector. A  troop  of  Arab  horse  was  sent  against 
them,  and  brought  away  a  number  of  men,  wom- 
en, and  children,  captives.  A  deputation  of  the 
Tamimites  came  to  reclaim  the  prisoners.  Four 
of  the  deputies  were  renowned  as  orators  and 
poets,  and  instead  of  humbling  themselves  before 
Mahomet,  proceeded  to  declaim  in  prose  and 
verse,  defying  the  Moslems  to  a  poetical  contest. 

"  I  am  not  sent  by  God  as  a  poet,"  replied  Ma- 
homet, "  neither  do  I  seek  fame  as  an  orator." 

Some  of  his  followers,  however,  accepted  the 
challenge,  and  a  war  of  ink  ensued,  in  which  the 
Tamimites  acknowledged  themselves  vanquished. 
So  well  pleased  was  Mahomet  with  the  spirit  of 
their  defiance,  with  their  poetry,  and  with  their 
frank  acknowledgment  of  defeat,  that  he  not 
merely  gave  them  up  the  prisoners,  but  dismissed 
them  with  presents. 

Another  instance  of  his  susceptibility  to  the 
charms  of  poetry  is  recorded  in  the  case  of  Caab 
Ibn  Zohair,  a  celebrated  poet  of  Mecca,  who  had 
made  him  the  subject  of  satirical  verses,  and  had 
consequently  been  one  of  the  proscribed,  but  had 
fled  on  the  capture  of  the  sacred  city.  Caab  now 
came  to  Medina  to  make  his  peace,  and  approach- 
ing Mahomet  when  in  the  mosque,  began  chanting 
his  praises  in  a  poem  afterward  renowned  among 
the  Arabs  as  a  masterpiece.  He  concluded  by 
especially  extolling  his  clemency,  "for  with  the 
prophet  of  God  the  pardon  of  injuries  is,  of  all  his 
virtues,  that  on  which  one  can  rely  with  the  great- 
est certainty. 

Captivated  with  the  verse,  and  soothed  by  the 
flattery,  Mahomet  made  good  the  poet's  words,  for 
he  not  merely  forgave  him,  but  taking  off  his  own 
mantle,  threw  it  upon  his  shoulders.  The  poet  pre- 
served the  sacred  garment  to  the  day  of  his  death, 
refusing  golden  offers  for  it.  The  Caliph  Moa- 
wyah  purchased  it  of  his  heirs  for  ten  thousand 
drachmas,  and  it  continued  to  be  worn  by  the  Ca- 
liphs in  processions  and  solemn  ceremonials,  until 
the  thirty-sixth  Caliphat,  when  it  was  torn  from 
the  back  of  the  Caliph  Al-Most'asem  Billah,  by  Ho- 
laga,  the  Tartar  conqueror,  and  burnt  to  ashes. 

While  town  after  town  and  castle  after  castle 
of  the  Arab  tribes  were  embracing  the  faith,  and 
professing  allegiance  to  Mahomet,  Tayef,  the 
stronghold  of  the  Thakefites,  remained  obstinate 
in  the  worship  of  its  boasted  idol  Al  Lat.  The 
inhabitants  confided  in  their  mountain  position, 
and  in  the  strength  of  their  walls  and  castle. 
But,  though  safe  from  assault,  they  found  them- 
selves gradually  hemmed  in  •  and  isolated  by  the 
Moslems,  so  that  at  length  they  could  not  stir  be- 
yond their  walls  without  being  attacked.  Thus 
threatened  and  harassed,  they  sent  ambassadors 
to  Mahomet  to  treat  for  peace. 


The  prophet  cherished  a  deep  resentment 
against  this  stiff-necked  and  most  idolatrous  city, 
which  had  at  one  time  ejected  him  from  its  gates, 
and  at  another  time  repulsed  him  from  its  walls. 
His  terms  were  conversion  and  unqualified  sub- 
mission. The  ambassadors  readily  consented  to 
embrace  Islamism  themselves,  but  pleaded  the 
danger  of  suddenly  shocking  the  people  of  Tayef, 
by  a  demand  to  renounce  their  ancient  faith.  In 
their  name,  therefore,  they  entreated  permission 
for  three  years  longer  to  worship  their  ancient 
idol  Al  Lat.  The  request  was  peremptorily  de- 
nied. They  then  asked  at  least  one  month's  delay, 
to  prepare  the  public  mind.  This  likewise  was 
refused,  all  idolatry  being  incompatible  with  the 
worship  of  God.  They  then  entreated  to  be  ex- 
cused from  the  observance  of  the  daily  prayers. 

"  There  can  be  no  true  religion  without 
prayer,"  replied  Mahomet.  In  fine,  they  were 
compelled  to  make  an  unconditional  submission. 

Abu  Sofian,  Ibn  Harb,  and  Al  Mogheira  were 
sent  to  Tayef,  to  destroy  the  idol  Al  Lat,  which 
was  of  stone.  Abu  Sofian  struck  at  it  with  a 
pickaxe,  but  missing  his  blow  fell  prostrate  on 
his  face.  The  populace  set  up  a  shout,  consider- 
ing it  a  good  augury,  but  Al  Mogheira  demol- 
ished their  hopes,  and  the  statue,  at  one  blow  of 
a  sledge-hammer.  He  then  stripped  it  of  the  cost- 
ly robes,  the  bracelets,  the  necklace,  the  ear- 
rings, and  other  ornaments  of  gold  and  precious 
stones  wherewith  it  had  been  decked  by  its  wor- 
shippers, and  left  it  in  fragments  on  the  ground, 
with  the  women  of  Tayet  weeping  and  lamenting 
over  it.* 

Among  those  who  still  defied  the  power  of  Ma- 
homet was  the  Bedouin  chief  Amir  Ibn  Tufiel, 
head  of  the  powerful  tribe  of  Amir.  He  was  re- 
nowned for  personal  beauty  and  princely  magnifi- 
cence ;  but  was  of  a  haughty  spirit,  and  his  mag- 
nificence partook  of  ostentation.  At  the  great 
fair  of  Okaz,  between  Tayef  and  Naklah,  where 
merchants,  pilgrims,  and  poets  were  accustomed 
to  assemble  from  all  parts  of  Arabia,  a  herald 
would  proclaim  :  "  Whoso  wants  a  beast  of  bur- 
den, let  him  come  to  Amir  ;  is  any  one  hungry, 
let  him  come  to  Amir,  and  he  will  be  fed  ;  is  he 
persecuted,  let  him  fly  to  Amir,  and  he  will  be 
protected." 

Amir  had  dazzled  every  one  by  his  generosity, 
and  his  ambition  had  kept  pace  with  h»s  popular- 
ity. The  rising  power  of  Mahomet  inspired  him 
with  jealousy.  When  advised  to  make  terms  with 
him  ;  "I  have  sworn,"  replied  he  haughtily, 
"  never  to  rest  until  I  had  won  all  Arabia  ;  and 
shall  I  do  homage  to  this  Koreishite  ?" 

The  recent  conquests  ol  the  Moslems,  however, 
brought  him  to  listen  to  the  counsels  of  his 
friends.  He  repaired  to  Medina,  and  m  coming 
into  the  presence  of  Mahomet,  demanded'frankly, 
"  Wilt  thou  be  my  friend  ?" 

"Never,  by  Allah!"  was  the  reply,  "unless 
thou  dost  embrace  the  faith  of  Islam." 

"  And  if  I  do,  wilt  thou  content  thyself  with  the 
sway  over  the  Arabs  of  the  cities,  and  leave  to  me 
the  Bedouins  of  the  deserts  ?" 

Mahomet  replied  in  the  negative. 


*  The  Thakefites  continue  a  powerful  tribe  to  this 
day,  possessing  the  same  fertile  region  on  the  east- 
ern declivity  of  the  Hedjas  chain  of  mountains.  Some 
inhabit  the  ancient  town  of  Tayef,  others  dwell  in 
tents  and  have  flocks  of  goats  and  sheep.  They  can 
raise  two  thousand  matchlocks,  and  defended  their 
stronghold  of  Tayef  in  the  wars  with  the  Wahabys.— • 
Burckhardfs  Notes,  v.  2. 


60 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


"  What  then  will  I  gain  by  embracing  thy  faith  ?' ' 
"  The  fellowship  of  all  true  believers." 
"  I    covet   no    such    fellowship  !"    replied   the 
proud  Amir  ;  and  with  a  warlike  menace  he  re- 
turned to  his  tribe. 

A  Bedouin  chieftain  of  a  different  character  was 
Adi,  a  prince  of  the  tribe  of  Tai.  His  father 
Hatim  had  been  famous,  not  merely  for  warlike 
deeds,  but  for  boundless  generosity,  insomuch 
that  the  Arabs  were  accustomed  to  say,  "  as  gen- 
erous as  Hatim."  Adi  the  son  was  a  Christian  ; 
and  however  he  might  have  inherited  his  father's 
generosity,  was  deficient  in  his  valor.  Alarmed 
at  the  ravaging  expeditions  of  the  Moslems,  he 
ordered  a  young  Arab,  who  tended  his  camels  in 
the  desert,  to  have  several  of  the  strongest  and 
fleetest  at  hand,  and  to  give  instant  notice  of  the 
approach  of  an  enemy. 

It  happened  that  Ali,  who  was  scouring  that 
part  of  the  country  with  a  band  of  horsemen, 
came  in  sight,  bearing  with  him  two  banners,  one 
white,  the  other  black.  The  young  Bedouin  be- 
held them  from  afar,  and  ran  to  Adi,  exclaiming, 
"  The  Moslems  are  at  hand.  I  see  their  banners 
at  a  distance  !"  Adi  instantly  placed  his  wife 
and  children  on  the  camels,  and  fled  to  Syria. 
His  sister,  surnamed  Saffana,  or  the  Pearl,  fell 
into  the  hands  of  the  Moslems,  and  was  carried 
with  other  captives  to  Medina.  Seeing  Mahomet 
pass  near  to  the  place  of  her  confinement,  she 
cried  to  him  : 

"  Have  pity  upon  me,  oh  ambassador  of  God  ! 
My  father  is  dead,  and  he  who  should  have  pro- 
tected has  abandoned  me.  Have  pity  upon  me, 
oh  ambassador  of  God,  as  God  may  have  pity 
upon  thee  !" 

"  Who  is  thy  protector  ?'  asked  Mahomet. 
"  Adi,  the  son  of  Hatim." 

"  He  is  a  fugitive  from  God  and  his  prophet," 
replied  Mahomet,  and  passed  on. 

On  the  following  day,  as  Mahomet  was  passing 
by,  Ali,  who  had  been  touched  by  the  woman's 
beauty  and  her  grief,  whispered  to  her  to  arise 
and  entreat  the  prophet  once  more.  She  accord- 
ingly repeated  her  prayer.  "  Oh  prophet  of  God  ! 
my  father  is  dead  ;  my  brother,  who  should  have 
been  my  protector,  has  abandoned  me.  Have 
mercy  upon  me,  as  God  will  have  mercy  upon 
thee." 

Mahomet  turned  to  her  benignantly.  "Be  it 
so,"  said  he;  and  he  not  only  set  her  free,  but 
gave  her  raiment  and  a  camel,  and  sent  her  by 
the  first  caravan  bound  to  Syria. 

Arriving  in  presence  of  her  brother,  she  up- 
braided him  with  his  desertion.  He  acknowledged 
his  fault,  and  was  forgiven.  She  then  urged  him 
to  make  his  peace  with  Mahomet  ;  "  he  is  truly  a 
prophetk"  said  she,  "  and  will  soon  have  universal 
sway  ;  hasten,  therefore,  in  time  to  win  his  favor." 
The  politic  Adi  listened  to  her  counsel,  and 
hastening  to  Medina,  greeted  the  prophet,  who 
was  in  the  mosque.  His  own  account  of  the  in- 
terview presents  a  striking  picture  of  the  simple 
manners  and  mode  of  life  of  Mahomet,  now  in 
the  full  exercise  of  sovereign  power,  and  the  ca- 
reer of  rapid  conquest.  "  He  asked  me,"  says 
Adi,  "  my  name,  and  when  I  gave  it,  invited  me 
to  accompany  him  to  his  home.  On  the  way  a 
weak  emaciated  woman  accosted  him.  He  stopped 
and  talked  to  her  of  her  affairs.  This,  thought  I 
to  myself,  is  not  very  kingly.  When  we  arrived 
at  his  house  he  gave  me  a  leathern  cushion 
stuffed  with  palm-leaves  to  sit  upon,  while  he  sat 
upon  the  bare  ground.  This,  thought  I,  is  not 
very  princely  ! 


"  He  then  asked  me  three  times  to  embrace  Is- 
lamism.  I  replied,  I  have  a  faith  of  my  own.  '  I 
know  thy  faith,'  said  he,  'better  than  thou  dost 
thyself.  As  prince,  thou  takest  one  fourth  of  the 
booty  from  thy  people.  Is  this  Christian  doc- 
trine ?'  By  these  words  I  perceived  him  to  be  a 
prophet,  who  knew  more  than  other  men. 

"  '  Thou  dost  not  incline  to  Islamism,'  contin- 
ued he,  '  because  thou  seest  we  are  poor.  The 
time  is  at  hand  when  true  believers  will  have 
more  wealth  than  they  will  know  how  to  manage. 
Perhaps  thou  art  deterred  by  seeing  the  small  num- 
ber of  the  Moslems  in  comparison  with  the  hosts 
of  their  enemies.  By  Allah  !  in  a  little  while  a 
Moslem  woman  will  be  able  to  make  a  pilgrim- 
age on  her  camel,  alone  and  fearless,  from  Ka- 
desia  to  God's  temple  at  Mecca.  Thou  thinkest, 
probably,  that  the  might  is  in  Ac  hands  of  the  un- 
believers ;  know  that  the  time  is  not  far  off  when 
we  will  plant  our  standards  on  the  white  castles 
of  Babylon.'  "* 

The  politic  Adi  believed  in  the  prophecy,  and 
forthwith  embraced  the  faith. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

PREPARATIONS  FOR  AN  EXPEDITION  AGAINST 
SYRIA— INTRIGUES  OF  ABDALLAH  IBN  OBBA — 
CONTRIBUTIONS  OF  THE  FAITHFUL — MARCH  OF 
THE  ARMY — THE  ACCURSED  REGION  OF  HAJAR 
— ENCAMPMENT  AT  TABUC — SUBJUGATION  OF 
THE  NEIGHBORING  PROVINCES — KHALED  SUR- 
PRISES OKAIDOR  AND  HIS  CASTLE — RETURN  OF 
THE  ARMY  TO  MEDINA. 

MAHOMET  had  now,  either  by  conversion  or 
conquest,  made  himself  sovereign  of  almost  all 
Arabia.  The  scattered  tribes,  heretoiore  danger- 
ous to  each  other,  but  by  their  disunion  powerless 
against  the  rest  of  the  world,  he  had  united  into 
one  nation,  and  thus  fitted  for  external  conquest. 
His  prophetic  character  gave  him  absolute  con- 
trol of  the  formidable  power  thus  conjured  up  in 
the  desert,  and  he  was  now  prepared  to  lead  it 
forth  for  the  propagation  of  the  faith  and  the  ex- 
tension of  the  Moslem  power  in  foreign  lands. 

His  numerous  victories,  and  the  recent  affair  at 
Muta,  had  at  length,  it  is  said,  roused  the  atten- 
tion of  the  Emperor  Heraclius,  who  was  assem- 
bling an  army  on  the  confines  of  Arabia  to  crush 
this  new  enemy.  Mahomet  determined  to  antici- 
pate his  hostilities,  and  to  carry  the  standard  of 
the  faith  into  the  very  heart  of  Syria. 

Hitherto  he  had  undertaken  his  expeditions  with 
secrecy,  imparting  his  plans  and  intentions  to 
none  but  his  most  confidential  officers,  and  be- 
guiling his  followers  into  enterprises  of  clanger. 
The  present  campaign,  however,  so  different  from 
the  brief  predatory  excursions  of  the  Arabs,  would 
require  great  preparations  ;  an  unusual  force  was 
to  be  assembled,  and  all  kinds  of  provisions  made 
for  distant  marches,  and  a  long  absence.  He 
proclaimed  openly,  therefore,  the  object  and  na- 
ture of  the  enterprise. 

There  was  not  the  usual  readiness  to  flock  to 
his  standard.  Many  remembered  the  disastrous 
affair  of  Muta,  and  dreaded  to  come  again  in  con- 
flict with  disciplined  Roman  troops.  The  time  of 
year  also  was  unpropitious  for  such  a  distant  and 
prolonged  expedition.  It  was  the  season  of  sum- 
mer heat  ;  the  earth  was  parched,  and  the  springs 


Weil's  Mohammed,  p.  247. 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


and  brooks  were  dried  up.  The  date-harvest  too 
was  approaching,  when  the  men  should  be  at 
home  to  gather  the  fruit,  rather  than  abroad  on 
predatory  enterprises. 

All  these  things  were  artfully  urged  upon  the 
people  by  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba,  the  Khazradite, 
who  continued  to  be  the  covert  enemy  of  Ma- 
homet, and  seized  every  occasion  to  counteract  his 
plans.  "  A  fine  season  this,"  would  he  cry,  "  to 
undertake  such  a  distant  inarch  in  defiartce  of 
dearth  and  drought,  and  the  fervid  heat  of  the 
desert  !  Mahomet  seems  to  think  a  war  with 
Greeks  quite  a  matter  of  sport  ;  trust  me,  you 
will  find  it  very  different  from  a  war  of  Arab 
against  Arab.  By  Allah  !  methinks  I  already  see 
you  all  in  chains." 

By  these  and  similar  scoffs  and  suggestions,  he 
wrought  upon  the  fears  and  feelings  of  the  Khaz- 
radites,  his  partisans,  and  rendered  the  enterprise 
generally  unpopular.  Mahomet,  as  usual,  had 
resort  to  revelation.  "  Those  who  would  remain 
behind,  and  refuse  to  devote  themselves  to  the 
service  of  God,"  said  a  timely  chapter  of  the  Ko- 
ran, "  allege  the  summer  heat  as  an  excuse.  Tell 
them  the  fire  of  hell  is  hotter  !  They  may  hug 
themselves  in  the  enjoyment  of  present  safety,  but 
endless  tears  will  be  their  punishment  hereafter." 

Some  of  his  devoted  adherents  manifested  their 
zeal  at  this  lukewarm  moment.  Omar,  Al  Abbas, 
and  Abda'lrahman  gave  large  sums  of  money  ; 
several  female  devotees  brought  their  ornaments 
and  jewels.  Othman  delivered  one  thousand, 
some  say  ten  thousand,  dinars  to  Mahomet,  and 
was  absolved  from  his  sins,  past,  present,  or  to 
come.  Abu  Bekergave  four  thousand  drachmas  ; 
Mahomet  hesitated  to  accept  the  offer,  knowing  it 
to  be  all  that  he  possessed.  "  What  will  re- 
main," said  he,  "  for  thee  and  thy  family  ?" 
"  God  and  his  prophet,"  was  the  reply. 

These  devout  examples  had  a  powerful  effect  ; 
yet  it  was  with  much  difficulty  that  an  army  of  ten 
thousand  horse  and  twenty  thousand  foot  was  as- 
sembled. Mahomet  now  appointed  Ali  governor 
of  Medina  during  his  absence,  and  guardian  of 
both  their  families.  He  accepted  the  trust  with 
great  reluctance,  having  been  accustomed  always 
to  accompany  the  prophet,  and  share  all  his  perils. 
All  arrangements  being  completed,  Mahomet 
marched  forth  from  Medina  on  this  momentous 
expedition.  A  part  of  his  army  was  composed  of 
Khazradites  and  their  confederates,  led  by  Ab- 
dallah Ibn  Obba.  This  man,  whom  Mahomet 
had  well  denominated  the  Chief  of  the  Hypocrites, 
encamped  separately  with  his  adherents  at  night, 
at  some  distance  in  the  rear  of  the  main  army  ; 
and  when  the  latter  marched  forward  in  the  morn- 
ing, lagged  behind,  and  led  his  troops  back  to 
Medina.  Repairing  to  Ali,  whose  dominion  in 
the  city  was  irksome  to  him  and  his  adherents,  he 
endeavored  to  make  him  discontented  with  his 
position,  alleging  that  Mahomet  had  left  him  in 
charge  of  Medina  solely  to  rid  himself  of  an  in- 
cumbrance.  Stung  by  the  suggestion,  Ali  hastened 
after  Mahomet,  and  demanded  if  what  Abdallah 
and  his  followers  said  were  true. 

"These  men,"  replied  Mahomet,  "are  liars. 
They  are  the  party  of  Hypocrites  and  Doubters, 
who  would  breed  sedition  in  Medina.  I  left  thee 
behind  to  keep  watch  over  them,  and  to  be  a 
guardian  to  both  our  families.  I  would  have  thee 
to  be  to  me  what  Aaron  was  to  Moses  ;  excepting 
that  thou  canst  not  be,  like  him,  a  prophet  ;  I  be- 
ing the  last  of  the  prophets."  With  this  explana- 
tion, Ali  returned  contented  to  Medina. 

Many  have    inferred  from  the  foregoing  that 


Mahomet  intended  Ali  for  his  Caliph  or  success- 
or ;  that  being  the  signification  of  the  Arabic 
word  used  to  denote  the  relation  of  Aaron  to 
Moses. 

The  troops  who  had  continued  on  with  Ma- 
homet soon  began  to  experience  the  difficulties  of 
braving  the  desert  in  this  sultry  season.  Many 
turned  back  on  the  second  day,  and  others  on  the 
third  and  fourth.  Whenever  word  was  brought 
to  the  prophet  of  their  desertion,  "  Let  them  go," 
would  be  the  reply  ;  "  if  they  are  good  for  anything 
God  will  bring  them  back  to  us  ;  if  they  are  not 
we  are  relieved  from  so  many  incumbrances. " 

While  some  thus  lost  heart  upon  the  march, 
others  who  had  remained  at  Medina  repented  of 
their  faint-heartedness.  One,  named  Abu  Khait- 
hama,  entering  his  garden  during  the  sultry  heat 
of  the  day,  beheld  a  repast  of  viands  and  fresh 
water  spread  for  him  by  his  two  wives  in  the  cool 
shade  of  a  tent.  Pausing  at  the  threshold,  "  At 
this  moment,"  exclaimed  he,  "  the  prophet  of  God 
is  exposed  to  the  winds  and  heats  of  the  desert, 
and  shall  Khaithama  sit  here  in  the  shade  beside 
his  beautiful  wives  ?  By  Allah  !  I  will  not  enter 
the  tent  !"  He  immediately  armed  himself  with 
sword  and  lance,  and  mounting  his  camel,  has- 
tened off  to  join  the  standard  of  the  faith. 

In  the  mean  time  the  army,  after  a  weary  march 
of  seven  days,  entered  the  mountainous  district 
of  Hajar,  inhabited  in  days  of  old  by  theThamud- 
ites,  one  of  the  lost  tribes  of  Arabia.  It  was  the 
accursed  region,  the  tradition  concerning  which 
has  already  been  related.  The  advance  of  the 
army,  knowing  nothing  of  this  tradition,  and  be- 
ing heated  and  fatigued,  beheld  with  delight  a 
brook  running  through  a  verdant  valley,  and  cool 
caves  cut  in  the  sides  of  the  neighboring  hills, 
once  the  abodes  of  the  heaven-smitten  Thamud- 
ites.  Halting  along  the  brook,  some  prepared  to 
bathe,  others  began  to  cook  and  make  bread, 
while  all  promised  themselves  cool  quarters  for 
the  night  in  the  caves. 

Mahomet,  in  marching,  had  kept,  as  was  his 
wont,  in  the  rear  of  the  army  to  assist  the  weak  ; 
occasionally  taking  up  a  wayworn  laggard  behind 
him.  Arriving  at  the  place  where  the  troops  had 
halted,  he  recollected  it  of  old,  and  the  traditions 
concerning  it,  which  had  been  told  to  him  when 
he  passed  here  in  the  days  of  his  boyhood.  Fear- 
ful of  incurring  the  ban  which  hung  over  the 
neighborhood,  he  ordered  his  troops  to  throw 
away  the  meat  cooked  with  the  water  of  the 
brook,  to  give  the  bread  kneaded  with  it  to  the 
camels,  and  to  hurry  away  from  the  heaven-ac- 
cursed place.  Then  wrapping  his  face  in  the 
folds  of  his  mantle,  and  setting  spurs  to  his  mule, 
he  hastened  through  that  sinful  region  ;  the  army 
following  him  as  if  flying  from  an  enemy. 

The  succeeding  night  was  one  of  great  suffer- 
ing ;  the  army  had  to  encamp  without  water  ;  the 
weather  was  intensely  hot,  with  a  parching  wind 
from  the  desert  ;  an  intolerable  thirst  prevailed 
throughout  the  camp,  as  though  the  Thamudite 
ban  still  hung  over  it.  The  next  day,  however,  an 
abundant  rain  refreshed  and  invigorated  both  man 
and  beast.  The  march  was  resumed  with  new 
ardor,  and  the  army  arrived,  without  further 
hardship,  at  Tabuc,  a  small  town  on  the  confines 
of  the  Roman  empire,  about  half  way  between 
Medina  and  Damascus,  and  about  ten  days'  jour- 
ney from  either  city. 

Here  Mahomet  pitched  his  camp  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  a  fountain,  and  in  the  midst  of  groves 
and  pasturage.  Arabian  traditions  affirm  that 
the  fountain  was  nearly  dry,  insomuch  that,  when 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


a  small  vase  was  filled  for  the  prophet,  not  a  drop 
was  lett  ;  having  assuaged  his  thirst,  however, 
and  made  his  ablutions,  Mahomet  threw  what 
remained  in  the  vase  back  into  the  fountain  ; 
whereupon  a  stream  gushed  forth  sufficient  for 
the  troops  and  all  the  cattle. 

From  this  encampment  Mahomet  sent  out  his 
captains  to  proclaim  and  enforce  the  faith,  or  to 
exact  tribute.  Some  of  the  neighboring  princes 
sent  embassies,  either  acknowledging  the  divinity 
of  his  mission  or  submitting  to  his  temporal  sway. 
One  of  these  was  Johanna  Ibn  Ruba,  prince  of 
Eyla,  a  Christian  city  near  the  Red  Sea.  This 
was  the  same  city  about  which  the  tradition  is 
told,  that  in  days  of  old,  when  its  inhabitants 
were  Jews,  the  old  men  were  turned  into  swine, 
and  the  young  men  into  monkeys,  for  fishing  on 
the  Sabbath,  a  judgment  solemnly  recorded  in  the 
Koran. 

The  prince  of  Eyla  made  a  covenant  of  peace 
with  Mahomet,  agreeing  to  pay  an  annual  tribute 
of  three  thousand  dinars  or  crowns  of  gold.  The 
form  of  the  covenant  became  a  precedent  in  treat- 
ing with  other  powers. 

Among  the  Arab  princes  who  professed  the 
Christian  faith,  and  refused  to  pay  homage  to  Ma- 
homet, was  Okaider  Ibn  Malec,  of  the  tribe  of 
Kenda.  He  resided  in  a  castle  at  the  foot  of  a 
mountain,  in  the  midst  of  his  domain.  Khaled 
was  sent  with  a  troop  of  horse  to  bring  him  to 
terms.  Seeing  the  castle  was  too  strong  to  be 
carried  by  assault,  he  had  recourse  to  stratagem. 
One  moonlight  night,  as  Okaider  and  his  wife 
were  enjoying  the  fresh  air  on  the  terraced  roof  of 
the  castle,  they  beheld  an  animal  grazing,  which 
they  supposed  to  be  a  wild  ass  from  the  neighbor- 
ing mountains.  Okaider,  who  was  a  keen  hunts- 
man, ordered  horse  and  lance,  and  sallied  forth  to 
the  chase,  accompanied  by  his  brother  Hassan 
and  several  of  his  people.  The  wild  ass  proved 
to  be  a  decoy.  They  had  not  ridden  far  before 
Khaled  and  his  men  rushed  from  ambush  and  at- 
tacked them.  They  were  too  lightly  armed  to 
make  much  resistance.  Hassan  was  killed  on  the 
spot,  and  Okaider  taken  prisoner  ;  the  rest  fled 
back  to  the  castle,  which,  however,  was  soon  sur- 
rendered. The  prince  was  ultimately  set  at  liberty 
on  paying  a  heavy  ransom  and  becoming  a  tribu- 
tary. 

As  a  trophy  of  the  victory,  Khaled  sent  to 
Mahomet  the  vest  stripped  from  the  body 
of  Hassan.  It  was  of  silk,  richly  embroidered 
with  gold.  The  Moslems  gathered  round, 
and  examined  it  with  admiration.  "  Do  you 
admire  this  vest?"  said  the  prophet.  "I 
swear  by  him  in  whose  hands  is  the  soul  of 
Mahomet,  the  vest  which  Saad,  the  son  of  Maadi, 
wears  at  this  moment  in  paradise,  is  far  more  pre- 
cious." This  Saad  was  the  judge  who  passed 
sentence  of  death  on  seven  hundred  Jewish  cap- 
tives at  Medina,  at  the  conclusion  of  a  former 
campaign. 

His  troops  being  now  refreshed  by  the  sojourn 
at  Tabuc,  and  the  neighboring  country  being 
brought  into  subjection,  Mahomet  was  bent  upon 
prosecuting  the  object  of  his  campaign,  and  push- 
ing forward  into  the  heart  of  Syria.  His  ardor, 
however,  was  not  shared  by  his  followers.  Intel- 
ligence of  immense  bodies  of  hostile  troops,  as- 
sembled on  the  Syrian  borders,  had  damped  the 
spirits  of  the  army.  Mahomet  remarked  the  gen- 
eral discouragement,  yet  was  loath  to  abandon 
the  campaign  when  but  half  completed.  Calling 
a  council  of  war,  he  propounded  the  question 
whether  or  not  to  continue  forward.  To  this 


Omar  replied  dryly,  "  If  thou  hast  the  command 
of  God  to  proceed  further,  do  so."  "  If  I  had  the 
command  of  God  to  proceed  further,"  observed 
Mahomet,  "  I  should  not  have  asked  thy  coun- 
sel." 

Omar  felt  the  rebuke.  He  then,  in  a  respectful 
tone,  represented  the  impolicy  of  advancing  in  the 
face  of  the  overwhelming  force  said  to  be  collected 
on  the  Syrian  frontier ;  he  represented,  also, 
how  much  Mahomet  had  already  effected  in  this 
campaign.  He  had  checked  the  threatened  in- 
vasion of  the  imperial  arms,  and  had  received  the 
homage  and  submission  of  various  tribes  and  peo- 
ple, from  the  head  of  the  Red  Sea  to  the  Eu- 
phrates :  he  advised  him,  therefore,  to  be  content 
for  the  present  year  with  what  he  had  achieved,  and 
to  defer  the  completion  of  the  enterprise  to  a  fu- 
ture campaign. 

His  counsel  was  adopted  :  for,  whenever  Ma- 
homet was  not  under  strong  excitement,  or  fancied 
inspiration,  he  was  rather  prone  to  yield  up  his 
opinion  in  military  matters  to  that  of  his  generals. 
After  a  sojourn  of  about  twenty  days,  therefore, 
at  Tabuc,  he  broke  up  his  camp,  and  conducted 
his  army  back  to  Medina. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

TRIUMPHAL  ENTRY  INTO  MEDINA — PUNISHMENT 
OF  THOSE  WHO  HAD  REFUSED  TO  JOIN  THE 
CAMPAIGN — EFFECTS  OF  EXCOMMUNICATION — 
DEATH  OF  ABDALLAH  IBN  OBBA — DISSENSIONS 
IN  THE  PROPHET'S  HAREM. 

THE  entries  of  Mahomet  into  Medina  on  return- 
ing from  his  warlike  triumphs,  partook  of  the  sim- 
plicity and  absence  of  parade,  which  character- 
ized all  his  actions.  On  approaching  the  city, 
when  his  household  came  forthwith  the  multitude 
to  meet  him,  he  would  stop  to  greet  them,  and 
take  up  the  children  of  the  house  behind  him  on 
his  horse.  It  was  in  this  simple  way  he  entered 
Medina,  on  returning  from  the  campaign  against 
Tabuc. 

The  arrival  of  an  army  laden  with  spoil,  gath- 
ered in  the  most  distant  expedition  ever  under- 
taken by  the  soldiers  of  Islam,  was  an  event  of 
too  great  moment,  not  to  be  nailed  with  trium- 
phant exultation  by  the  community.  Those  alone 
were  cast  down  in  spirit,  who  had  refused  to 
march  forth  with  the  army,  or  had  deserted  it 
when  on  the  march.  All  these  were  at  first 
placed  under  an  interdict  ;  Mahomet  forbidding 
his  faithful  followers  to  hold  any  intercourse  with 
them.  Mollified,  however,  by  their  contrition  or 
excuses,  he  gradually  forgave  the  greater  part  of 
them.  Seven  of  those  who  continued  under  in- 
terdict, finding  themselves  cut  off  from  com- 
munion with  their  acquaintance,  and  marked  with 
opprobrium  amid  an  exulting  community,  became 
desperate,  and  chained  themselves  to  the  walls  of 
the  mosque,  swearing  to  remain  there  until  par- 
doned. Mahomet,  on  the  other  hand,  swore  he 
would  leave  them  there  unless  otherwise  com- 
manded by  God.  Fortunately  he  received  the 
command  in  a  revealed  verse  of  the  Koran  ;  but, 
in  freeing  them  from  their  self-imposed  fetters,  he 
exacted  one  third  of  their  possessions,  to  be  ex- 
pended in  the  service  of  the  faith. 

Among  those  still  under  interdict  were  Kaab 
Ibn  Malec,  Murara  Ibn  Rabia,  and  Hilal  Ibn 
Omeya.  These  had  once  been  among  the  most 
zealous  of  professing  Moslems  ;  their  defection 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


G3 


was,  therefore,  ten  times  more  heinous  in  the  eyes 
of  the  prophet,  than  that  of  their  neighbors, 
whose  faith  had  been  lukewarm  and  dubious. 
Toward  them,  therefore,  he  continued  implacable. 
Forty  days  they  remained  interdicted,  and  the 
interdict  extended  to  communication  with  their 
wives. 

The  account  given  by  Kaab  Ibn  Malec  of  his 
situation,  while  thus  excommunicated,  presents 
a  vivid  picture  of  the  power  of  Mahomet  over  the 
minds  of  his  adherents.  Kaab  declared  that  every- 
body shunned  him,  or  regarded  him  with  an  al- 
tered mien.  His  two  companions  in  disgrace  did 
not  leave  their  homes  ;  he,  however,  went  about 
from  place  to  place,  but  no  one  spake  to  him.  He 
sought  the  mosque,  sat  down  near  the  prophet, 
and  saluted  him,  but  his  salutation  was  not  re- 
turned. On  the  forty-first  day  came  a  command, 
that  he  should  separate  from  his  wife.  He  now 
left  the  city,  and  pitched  a  tent  on  the  hill  of  Sala, 
determined  there  to  undergo  in  its  severest  rigor 
the  punishment  meted  out  to  him.  His  heart, 
however,  was  dying  away  ;  the  wide  world,  he 
said,  appeared  to  grow  narrow  to  him.  On  the 
fifty-first  day  came  a  messenger  holding  out  the 
hope  of  pardon.  He  hastened  to  Medina,  and 
sought  the  prophet  at  the  mosque,  who  received 
him  with  a  radiant  countenance,  and  said  that 
God  had  forgiven  him.  The  soul  of  Kaab  was 
lilted  'up  from  the  depths  of  despondency,  and  in 
the  transports  of  his  gratitude,  he  gave  a  portion 
of  his  wealth  in  atonement  of  his  error. 

Not  long  after  the  return  of  the  army  to  Medina, 
Abdallah  Ibn  Obba,  the  Khazradite,  "  the  chief 
of  the  Hypocrites,"  fell  ill,  so  that  his  life  was  de- 
spaired of.  Although  Mahomet  was  well  aware 
of  the  perfidy  of  this  man,  and  the  secret  arts  he 
had  constantly  practised  against  him,  he  visited 
him  repeatedly  during  his  illness  ;  was  with  him 
at  his  dying  hour,  and  followed  his  body  to  the 
grave.  There,  at  the  urgent  entreaty  of  the  son 
of  the  deceased,  he  put  up  prayers  that  his  sins 
might  be  forgiven. 

Omar  privately  remonstrated  with  Mahomet  for 
praying  tor  a  hypocrite  ;  reminding  him  how  often 
he  had  been  slandered  by  Abdallah  ;  but  he  was 
shrewdly  answered  by  a  text  of  the  Koran  :  "  Thou 
mayest  pray  for  the  '  Hypocrites  '  or  not,  as  thou 
wilt ;  but  though  thou  shouldest  pray  seventy 
times,  yet  will  they  not  be  forgiven." 

The  prayers  at  Abdallah's  grave,  therefore, 
were  put  up  out  of  policy,  to  win  favor  with  the 
Khazradites,  and  the  powerful  friends  of  the  de- 
ceased ;  and  in  this  respect  the  prayers  were  suc- 
cessful, for  most  of  the  adherents  of  the  deceased 
became  devoted  to  the  prophet,  whose  sway  was 
thenceforth  undisputed  in  Medina.  Subsequently 
he  announced  another  revelation,  which  forbade 
him  to  pray  by  the  death-bed  or  stand  by  the  grave 
of  any  one  who  died  in  unbeliet. 

But  though  Mahomet  exercised  such  dominion 
over  his  disciples,  and  the  community  at  large,  he 
had  great  difficulty  in  governing  his  wives,  and 
maintaining  tranquillity  in  his  harem.  He  appears 
to  have  acted  with  tolerable  equity  in  his  connu- 
bial concerns,  assigning  to  each  of  his  wives  a 
separate  habitation,  of  which  she  was  sole  mis- 
tress, and  passing  the  twenty-four  hours  with  them 
by  turns.  It  so  happened,  that  on  one  occasion, 
when  he  was  sojourning  with  Hafsa,  the  latter 
left  her  dwelling  to  visit  her  father.  Returning 
unexpectedly,  she  surprised  the  prophet  with  his 
favorite  and  fortunate  slave  Mariyah,  the  mother 
of  his  son  Ibrahim.  The  jealousy  of  Hafsa  was 
vociferous.  Mahomet  endeavored  to  pacify  her, 


dreading  lest  her  outcries  should  rouse  his  whole 
harem  to  rebellion  ;  but  she  was  only  to  be  ap- 
peased by  an  oath  on  his  part  never  more  to  co- 
habit with  Mariyah.  On  these  terms  she  forgave 
the  past  and  promised  secrecy. 

She  broke  her  promise,  however,  and  revealed 
to  Ayesha  the  infidelity  of  the  prophet  ;  and  in  a 
little  while  it  was  known  throughout  the  harem. 
His  wives  now  united  in  a  storm  of  reproaches  ; 
until,  his  patience  being  exhausted,  he  repudiated 
Hafsa,  and  renounced  all  intercourse  with  the 
rest.  For  a  month  he  lay  alone  on  a  mat  in  a 
separate  apartment  ;  but  Allah,  at  length,  in  con- 
sideration of  his  lonely  state,  sent  down  the  first 
and  sixth  chapters  of  the  Koran,  absolving  him 
from  the  oath  respecting  Mariyah,  who  forthwith 
became  the  companion  of  his  solitary  chamber. 

The  refractory  wives  were  now  brought  to  a 
sense  of  their  error,  and  apprised  by  the  same 
revelation,  that  the  restrictions  imposed  on  ordi- 
nary men  did  not  apply  to  the  prophet.  In  the 
end  he  took  back  Hatsa,  who  was  penitent  ;  and 
he  was  reconciled  to  Ayesha,  whom  he  tenderly 
loved,  and  all  the  rest  were  in  due  time  received 
into  favor  ;  but  he  continued  to  cherish  Mariyah, 
for  she  was  fair  to  look  upon,  and  was  the  mother 
of  his  only  son. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ABU  BEKER  CONDUCTS  THE  YEARLY  PILGRIMAGE 
TO  MECCA — MISSION  OF  ALI  TO  ANNOUNCE  A 
REVELATION. 

THE  sacred  month  of  yearly  pilgrimage  was 
now  at  hand,  but  Mahomet  was  too  much  occu- 
pied with  public  and  domestic  concerns  to  absent 
himself  from  Medina  :  he  deputed  Abu  Beker, 
therefore,  to  act  in  his  place  as  emir  or  com- 
mander of  the  pilgrims,  who  were  to  resort  from 
Medina  to  the  holy  city.  Abu  Beker  accordingly 
departed  at  the  head  of  three  hundred  pilgrims, 
with  twenty  camels  for  sacrifice. 

Not  long  afterward  Mahomet  summoned  his 
son-in-law  and  devoted  disciple  Ali,  and,  mount- 
ing him  on  Al  Adha,  or  the  slit-eared,  the  swiftest 
of  his  camels,  urged  him  to  hasten  with  all  speed 
to  Mecca,  there  to  promulgate  before  the  multi- 
tude of  pilgrims  assembled  from  all  parts,  an  im- 
portant sura,  or  chapter  of  the  Koran,  just  re- 
ceived from  heaven. 

Ali  executed  his  mission  with  his  accustomed 
zeal  and  fidelity.  He  reached  the  sacred  city  in 
the  height  of  the  great  religious  festival.  On  the 
day  of  sacrifice,  when  the  ceremonies  of  pilgrim- 
age were  completed  by  the  slaying  of  the  victims 
in  the  valley  of  Mina,  and  when  Abu  Beker  had 
preached  and  instructed  the  people  in  the  doc- 
trines and  rites  of  Islamism,  Ali  rose  before  an 
immense  multitude  assembled  at  the  hill  Al 
Akaba,  and  announced  himself  a  messenger  from 
the  prophet,  bearing  an  important  revelation.  He 
then  read  the  sura,  or  chapter  of  the  Koran,  of 
which  he  was  the  bearer  ;  in  which  the  religion 
of  the  sword  was  declared  in  all  its  rigor.  It  ab- 
solved Mahomet  from  all  truce  or  league  with 
idolatrous  and  other  unbelievers,  should  they  in 
any  wise  have  been  false  to  their  stipulations,  or 
given  aid  to  his  enemies.  It  allowed  unbelievers 
four  months  of  toleration  from  the  time  of  this 
announcement,  during  which  months  they  might 
"go  to  and  fro  about  the  earth  securely,"  but 
at  the  expiration  of  that  time  all  indulgence  would 
cease  ;  war  would  then  be  made  in  every  way,  at 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


every  time  and  in  every  place,  by  open  force  or  by 
stratagem,  against  those  who  persisted  in  unbe- 
lief ;  no  alternative  would  be  left  them  but  to  em- 
brace the  faith  or  pay  tribute.  The  holy  months 
and  the  holy  places  would  no  longer  afford  them 
protection.  "  When  the  months  wherein  ye  are 
not  allowed  to  attack  them  shall  be  passed,"  said 
the  revelation,  "  kill  the  idolatrous  wherever  ye 
shall  find  them,  or  take  them  prisoners  ;  besiege 
them,  or  lay  in  wait  for  them."  The  ties  of  blood 
and  friendship  were  to  be  alike  disregarded  ;  the 
faithful  were  to  hold  no  communion  with  their  near- 
est relatives  and  dearest  friends,  should  they  per- 
sist in  idolatry.  After  the  expiration  of  the  current 
year,  no  unbeliever  was  to  be  permitted  to  tread 
the  sacred  bounds  of  Mecca,  nor  to  enter  the  tem- 
ple of  Allah,  a  prohibition  which  continues  to  the 
present  day. 

This  stringent  chapter  of  the  Koran  is  thought 
to  have  been  provoked,  in  a  great  measure,  by  the 
conduct  of  some  of  the  Jewish  and  idolatrous 
Arabs,  with  whom  Mahomet  had  made  covenants, 
but  who  had  repeatedly  played  him  false,  and 
even  made  treacherous  attempts  upon  his  life.  It 
evinces,  however,  the  increased  confidence  he  felt 
in  consequence  of  the  death  of  his  insidious  and 
powerful  foe,  Abdallah  Ibn  Obba,  and  the  rapid 
conversion  or  subjugation  of  the  Arab  tribes.  It 
was,  in  fact,  a  decisive  blow  for  the  exclusive 
domination  of  his  faith. 

When  Abu  Beker  and  Ali  returned  to  Mecca, 
the  former  expressed  surprise  and  dissatisfaction 
that  he  had  not  been  made  the  promulgator  of  so 
important  a  revelation,  as  it  seemed  to  be  con- 
nected with  his  recent  mission,  but  he  was  paci- 
fied by  the  assurance  that  all  new  revelations 
must  be  announced  by  the  prophet  himself,  or  by 
some  one  of  his  immediate  family. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MAHOMET  SENDS  HIS  CAPTAINS  ON  DISTANT  EN- 
TERPRISES— APPOINTS  LIEUTENANTS  TO  GOV- 
ERN IN  ARABIA  FELIX — SENDS  ALI  TO  SUP- 
PRESS AN  INSURRECTION  IN  THAT  PROVINCE — 
DEATH  OF  THE  PROPHET'S  ONLY  SON  IBRAHIM 
— HIS  CONDUCT  AT  THE  DEATH-BED  AND  THE 
GRAVE — HIS  GROWING  INFIRMITIES — HIS  VALE- 
DICTORY PILGRIMAGE  TO  MECCA,  AND  HIS  CON- 
DUCT AND  PREACHING  WHILE  THERE. 

THE  promulgation  of  the  last-mentioned  chap- 
ter of  the  Koran,  with  the  accompanying  denun- 
ciation of  exterminating  war  against  all  who 
should  refuse  to  believe  or  submit,  produced  hosts 
of  converts  and  tributaries  ;  so  that,  toward  the 
close  of  the  month,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the 
tenth  year  of  the  Hegira,  the  gates  of  Medina 
were  thronged  with  envoys  from  distant  tribes 
and  princes.  Among  those  who  bowed  to  the 
temporal  power  of  the  prophet  was  Farwa,  lieu- 
tenant of  Heraclius,  in  Syria,  and  governor  of 
Amon,  the  ancient  capital  of  the  Ammonites. 
His  act  of  submission,  however,  was  disavowed 
by  the  emperor,  and  punished  with  imprison- 
ment. 

Mahomet  felt  and  acted  more  and  more  as  a 
sovereign,  but  his  grandest  schemes  as  a  con- 
queror were  always  sanctified  by  his  zeal  as  an 
apostle.  His  captains  were  sent  on  more  distant 
expeditions  than  formerly,  but  it  was  always  with 


a  view  to  destroy  idols  and  bring  idolatrous  tribes 
to  subjection  ;  so  that  his  temporal  power  but  kept 
pace  with  the  propagation  of  his  faith.  He  ap- 
pointed two  lieutenants  to  govern  in  his  name  in 
Arabia  Felix  ;  but  a  portion  of  that  rich  and  im- 
portant country  having  shown  itself  refractory, 
Ali  was  ordered  to  repair  thither  at  the  head  of 
three  hundred  horsemen,  and  bring  the  inhabitants 
to  reason. 

The  youthful  disciple  expressed  a  becoming 
diffidence  to  undertake  a  mission  where  he  would 
have  to  treat  with  men  far  older  and  wiser  than 
himself  ;  but  Mahomet  laid  one  hand  upon  his 
lips,  and  the  other  upon  his  breast,  and  raising 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Allah  ! 
loosen  his  tongue  and  guide  his  heart  !"  He  gave 
him  one  rule  lor  his  conduct  as  a  judge.  "  When 
two  parties  come  before  thee,  never  pronounce  in 
favor  of  one  until  thou  hast  heard  the  other." 
Then  giving  into  his  hands  the  standard  of  the 
faith,  and  placing  the  turban  on  his  head,  he  bade 
him  farewell. 

When  the  military  missionary  arrived  in  the 
heretical  region  of  Yemen,  his  men,  indulging 
their  ancient  Arab  propensities,  began  to  sack,  to 
plunder,  and  destroy.  Ali  checked  their  excesses, 
and  arresting  the  fugitive  inhabitants,  began 
to  expound  to  them  the  doctrines  of  Islam.  His 
tongue,  though  so  recently  consecrated  by  the 
prophet,  failed  to  carry  conviction,  for  he  was  an- 
swered by  darts  and  arrows  ;  whereupon  he  re- 
turned to  the  old  argument  of  the  sword,  which 
he  urged  with  such  efficacy  that,  after  twenty 
unbelievers  had  been  slain,  the  rest  avowed  them- 
selves thoroughly  convinced.  This  zealous  achieve- 
ment was  followed  by  others  of  a  similar  kind, 
after  each  of  which  he  dispatched  messengers  to 
the  prophet,  announcing  a  new  triumph  of  the 
faith. 

While  Mahomet  was  exulting  in  the  tidings  of 
success  from  ever)'  quarter,  he  was  stricken  to  the 
heart  by  one  of  the  severest  of  domestic  bereave- 
ments. Ibrahim,  his  son  by  his  favorite  concu- 
bine Mariyah,  a  child  but  fifteen  months  old,  his 
only  male  issue,  on  whom  reposed  his  hope  of 
transmitting  his  name  to  posterity,  was  seized 
with  a  mortal  malady,  and  expired  before  his 
eyes.  Mahomet  could  not  control  a  father's  feel- 
ings as  he  bent  in  agony  over  this  blighted  blos- 
som of  his  hopes.  Yet  even  in  this  trying  hour 
he  showed  that  submission  to  the  will  of  God 
which  formed  the  foundation  of  his  faith.  "  My 
heart  is  sad,"  murmured  he,  "  and  mine  eyes 
overflow  with  tears  at  parting  with  thee,  oh,  my 
son  !  And  still  greater  would  be  my  grief,  did  I 
not  know  that  I  must  soon  follow  thee  ;  for  we  are 
of  God  ;  from  him  we  came,  and  to  him  we  must 
return." 

Abda'lrahmau  seeing  him  in  tears,  demanded  : 
"  Hast  thou  not  forbidden  us  to  weep  for  the 
dead  ?"  "  No,"  replied  the  prophet.  "  I  have 
forbidden  ye  to  utter  shrieks  and  outcries,  to  beat 
your  faces  and  rend  your  garments  ;  these  are 
suggestions  of  the  evil  one  ;  but  tears  shed  for  a. 
calamity  are  as  balm  to  the  heart,  and  are  sent 
in  mercy." 

He  followed  his  child  to  the  grave,  where 
amidst  the  agonies  of  separation,  he  gave  another 
proof  that  the  elements  of  his  religion  were  ever 
present  to  his  mind.  "  My  son  !  my  son  !"  ex- 
claimed he  as  the  body  was  committed  to  the 
tomb,  "  say  God  is  my  Lord  !  the  prophet  ot  God 
was  my  father,  and  Islamism  is  my  faith  !"  This 
was  to  prepare  his  child  for  the  questioning  by  ex- 
amining angels,  as  to  religious  belief,  which,  aq- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


65 


cording  to  Moslem  creed,  the  deceased  would  un- 
dergo while  in  the  grave.* 

An  eclipse  of  the  sun  which  happened  about 
that  time  was  interpreted  by  some  of  his  zealous 
followers  as  a  celestial  sign  of  mourning  for  the 
death  of  Ibrahim  ;  but  the  afflicted  father  rejected 
such  obsequious  flattery.  "  The  sun  and  the 
moon,"  said  he,  "  are  among  the  wonders  of  God, 
through  which  at  times  he  signifies  his  will  to  his 
servant  ;  but  their  eclipse  has  nothing  to  do  either 
with  the  birth  or  death  of  any  mortal." 

The  death  of  Ibrahim  was  a  blow  which  bowed 
him  toward  the  grave.  His  constitution  was  al- 
ready impaired  by  the  extraordinary  excitements 
and  paroxysms  of  his  mind,  and  the  physical  trials 
to  which  he  had  been  exposed  ;  the  poison,  too, 
administered  to  him  at  Khaibar  had  tainted  the 
springs  of  life,  subjected  him  to  excruciating 
pains,  and  brought  on  a  premature  old  age.  His 
religious  zeal  took  the  alarm  from  the  increase  of 
bodily  infirmities,  and  he  resolved  to  expend  his 
remaining  strength  in  a  final  pilgrimage  to  Mecca, 
intended  to  serve  as  a  model  for  all  future  ob- 
servances of  the  kind. 

The  announcement  of  his  pious  intention 
brought  devotees  from  all  parts  of  Arabia,  to  fol- 
low the  pilgrim-prophet.  The  streets  of  Medina 
were  crowded  with  the  various  tribes  from  the 
towns  and  cities,  from  the  fastnesses  of  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  remote  parts  of  the  desert,  and  the 
surrounding  valleys  were  studded  with  their  tents. 
It  was  a  striking  picture  of  the  triumph  of  a  faith, 
these  recently  disunited,  barbarous,  and  warring 
tribes  brought  together  as  brethren,  and  inspired 
by  one  sentiment  of  religious  zeal. 

Mahomet  was  accompanied  on  this  occasion  by 
his  nine  wives,  who  were  transported  on  litters. 
He  departed  at  the  head  of  an  immense  train, 
some  say  of  fifty-five,  others  ninety,  and  others  a 
hundred  and  fourteen  thousand  pilgrims.  There 
was  a  large  number  of  camels  also,  decorated 
with  garlands  of  flowers  and  fluttering  streamers, 
intended  to  be  offered  up  in  sacrifice. 
.  The  first  night's  halt  was  a  few  miles  from  Me- 
dina, at  the  village  of  Dhu'l  Holai'fa,  where,  on  a 
former  occasion,  he  and  his  followers  had  laid 
aside  their  weapons  and  assumed  the  pilgrim 
garb.  Early  on  the  following  morning,  after 
.praying  in  the  mosque,  he  mounted  his  camel  Al 
Aswa,  and  entering  the  plain  of  Bai'da,  uttered 
the  prayer  or  invocation  called  in  Arabic  Talbi- 
jah,  in  which  he  was  joined  by  all  his  followers. 
The  following  is  the  import  of  this  solemn  invoca- 
tion :  "  Here  am  I  in  thy  service,  oh  God  !  Here 


*  One  of  the  funeral  rites  of  the  Moslems  is  for  the 
Mulakken  or  priest  to  address  the  deceased  when  in 
the  grave,  in  the  following  words  :  "  O  servant  of 
God  !  O  son  of  a  handmaid  of  God  !  know  that,  at 
this  time,  there  will  come  down  to  thee  two  angels 
commissioned  respecting  thee  and  the  like  of  thee  ; 
when  they  say  to  thee,  '  Who  is  thy  Lord  ? '  answer 
them,  '  God  is  my  Lord  ;  '  in  truth,  and  when  they  ask 
thee  concerning  thy  prophet,  or  the  man  who  hath 
been  sent  unto  you,  say  to  them,  '  Mahomet  is  the 
apostle  of  God,'  with  veracity,  and  when  they  ask  thee 
concerning  thy  religion,  say  to  them,  '  Islamism  is  my 
religion."  And  when  they  ask  thee  concerning  thy 
book  of  direction,  say  to  them,  '  The  Koran  is  my 
book  of  direction,  and  the  Moslems  are  my  brothers  ; ' 
and  when  they  ask  thee  concerning  thy  Kebla,  say  to 
them,  '  The  Caaba  is  my  Kebla,  and  I  have  lived  and 
died  in  the  assertion  that  there  is  no  deity  but  God, 
and  Mahomet  is  God's  apostle,'  and  they  \vi\l  say, 
'  Sleep,  O  servant  of  God,  in  the  protection  of  God  ! '  ' 
—See  Lane's  Modern  Egyptians,  vol.  ii.  p.  338. 


am  I  in  thy  service  !  Thou  hast  no  companion. 
To  thee  alone  belongeth  worship.  From  thee 
cometh  all  good.  Thine  alone  is  the  kingdom. 
There  is  none  to  share  it  with  thee." 

This  prayer,  according  to  Moslem  tradition, 
was  uttered  by  the  patriarch  Abraham,  when, 
from  the  top  of  the  hill  of  Kubeis,  near  Mecca,  he 
preached  the  true  faith  to  the  whole  human  race, 
and  so  wonderful  was  the  power  of  his  voice  that 
it  was  heard  by  every  living  being  throughout  the 
world  ;  insomuch  that  the  very  child  in  the  womb 
responded,  "  Here  am  I  in  thy  service,  oh  God  !" 

In  this  way  the  pilgrim  host  pursued  its  course, 
winding  in  a  lengthened  train  of  miles,  over 
mountain  and  valley,  and  making  the  deserts  vo- 
cal at  times  with  united  prayers  and  ejaculations. 
There  were  no  longer  any  hostile  armies  to  im- 
pede or  molest  it,  for  by  this  time  the  Islam  faith 
reigned  serenely  over  all  Arabia.  Mahomet  ap- 
proached the  sacred  city  over  the  same  heights 
which  he  had  traversed  in  capturing  it,  and  he 
entered  through  the  gate  Beni  Scheiba,  which  still 
bears  the  name  of  The  Holy. 

A  few  days  after  his  arrival  he  was  joined  by 
All,  who  had  hastened  back  from  Yemen  ;  and 
who  brought  with  him  a  number  of  camels  to  be 
slain  in  sacrifice. 

As  this  was  to  be  a  model  pilgrimage,  Ma- 
homet rigorously  observed  all  the  rites  which  he 
had  continued  in  compliance  with  patriarchal 
usage,  or  introduced  in  compliance  with  revela- 
tion. Being  too  weak  and  infirm  to  go  on  foot, 
he  mounted  his  camel,  and  thus  performed  the 
circuits  round  the  Caaba,  and  the  journeyings  to 
and  fro,  between  the  hills  of  Safa  and  Merwa. 

When  the  camels  were  to  be  offered  up  in  sac- 
rifice, he  slew  sixty-three  with  his  own  hand,  one 
for  each  year  of  his  age,  and  Ali,  at  the  same 
time,  slew  thirty-seven  on  his  own  account. 

Mahomet  then  shaved  his  head,  beginning  on 
the  right  side  and  ending  on  the  left.  The  locks 
thus  shorn  away  were  equally  divided  among  his 
disciples,  and  treasured  up  as  sacred  relics. 
Khaled  ever  afterward  wore  one  in  his  turban, 
and  affirmed  that  it  gave  him  supernatural  strength 
in  battle. 

Conscious  that  life  was  waning  away  within 
him,  Mahomet,  during  this  last  sojourn  in  the  sa- 
cred city  of  his  faith,  sought  to  engrave  his  doc- 
trines deeply  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  his  fol- 
lowers. For  this  purpose  he  preached  frequently 
in  the  Caaba  from  the  pulpit,  or  in  the  open  air 
from  the  back  of  his  camel.  "  Listen  to  my 
words,"  would  he  say,  "  for  I  know  not  whether, 
after  this  year,  we  shall  ever  meet  here  again. 
Oh,  my  hearers,  I  am  but  a  man  like  yourselves  ; 
the  angel  of  death  may  at  any  time  appear,  and  I 
must  obey  his  summons." 

He  would  then  proceed  to  inculcate  not  merely 
religious  doctrines  and  ceremonies,  but  rules  for 
conduct  in  all  the  concerns  of  life,  public  and  do- 
mestic ;  and  the  precepts  laid  down  and  enforced 
on  this  occasion  have  had  a  vast  and  durable  in- 
fluence on  the  morals,  manners,  and  habitudes  of 
the  whole  Moslem  world. 

It  was  doubtless  in  view  of  his  approaching 
end,  and  in  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  his  rela- 
tives and  friends  after  his  death,  and  especially 
of  his  favorite  Ali,  who,  he  perceived,  had  given 
dissatisfaction  in  the  conduct  of  his  recent  cam- 
paign in  Yemen,  that  he  took  occasion,  during  a 
moment  of  strong  excitement  and  enthusiasm 
among  his  hearers,  to  address  to  them  a  solemn 
adjuration. 

"  Ye  believe,"  said  he,  "  that  there  is  but  one 


66 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


God  ;  that  Mahomet  is  his  prophet  and  apostle  ; 
that  paradise  and  hell  are  truths  ;  that  death  and 
the  resurrection  are  certain  ;  and  that  there  is  an 
appointed  time  when  all  who  rise  from  the  grave 
must  be  brought  to  judgment." 

They  all  answered,  "  We  believe  these  things. 
He  then  adjured  them  solemnly  by  these  dogmas 
of  their  faith  ever  to  hold  his  family,  and  especially 
Ali,  in  love  and  reverence.  "  Whoever  loves 
me,'"  said  he,  "  let  him  receive  Ali  as  his  friend. 
May  God  uphold  those  who  befriend  him,  and 
may  he  turn  from  his  enemies." 

It  was  at  the  conclusion  of  one  of  his  discourses 
in  the  open  air,  from  the  back  of  his  camel,  that 
the  famous  verse  of  the  Koran  is  said  to  have 
come  down  from  heaven  in  the  very  voice  of  the 
Deity.  "  Evil  to  those  this  day,  who  have  denied 
your  religion.  Fear  them  not ;  fear  me.  This 
day  I  have  perfected  your  religion,  and  accom- 
plished in  you  my  grace.  It  is  my  good  pleasure 
that  Islamism  be  you  faith." 

On  hearing  these  words,  say  the  Arabian  his- 
torians, the  camel  Al  Karwa,  on  which  the 
prophet  was  seated,  fell  on  its  knees  in  adoration. 
These  words,  add  they,  were  the  seal  and  conclu- 
sion of  the  law,  for  after  them  there  were  no  fur- 
ther revelations. 

Having  thus  fulfilled  all  the  rites  and  cere- 
monies of  pilgrimage,  and  made  a  full  exposition 
of  his  faith,  Mahomet  bade  a  last  farewell  to  his 
native  city,  and,  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  his 
pilgrim  army,  set  out  on  his  return  to  Medina. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  it,  he  lifted  up  his  voice 
and  exclaimed,  "God  is  great!  God  is  great! 
There  is  but  one  God  ;  he  has  no  companion. 
His  is  the  kingdom.  To  him  alone  belongeth 
praise.  He  is  almighty.  He  hath  fulfilled  his 
promise.  He  has  stood  by  his  servant,  and  alone 
dispersed  his  enemies.  Let  us  return  to  our 
homes  and  worship  and  praise  him  !" 

Thus  ended  what  has  been  termed  the  valedic- 
tory pilgrimage,  being  the  last  made  by  the 
prophet. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

OF  THE  TWO  FALSE  PROPHETS  AL  ASWAD  AND 
MOSEI'LMA. 

THE  health  of  Mahomet  continued  to  decline 
after  his  return  to  Medina  ;  nevertheless  his  ardor 
to  extend  his  religious  empire  was  unabated,  and 
he  prepared,  on  a  great  scale,  for  the  invasion  of 
Syria  and  Palestine.  While  he  was  meditating 
foreign  conquest,  however,  two  rival  prophets 
arose  to  dispute  his  sway  in  Arabia.  One  was 
named  Al  Aswad,  the  other  Mosei'lma  ;  they  re- 
ceived from  the  faithful  the  well-merited  appella- 
tion of  "  The  two  Liars." 

Al  Aswad,  a  quick-witted  man,  and  gifted  with 
persuasive  eloquence,  was  originally  an  idolater, 
then  a  convert  to  Islamism,  from  which  he  aposta- 
tized to  set  up  for  a  prophet,  and  establish  a  re- 
ligion of  his  own.  His  fickleness  in  matters  of 
faith  gained  him  the  appellation  of  Ailhala,  or 
"  The  Weathercock."  In  emulation  of  Mahomet 
he  pretended  to  receive  revelations  from  heaven 
through  the  medium  of  two  angels.  Being  versed 
in  juggling  arts  and  natural  magic,  he  astonished 
and  confounded  the  multitude  with  spectral  illu- 
sions, which  he  passed  off  as  miracles,  insomuch 
that  certain  Moslem  writers  believe  he  was  really 
assisted  by  two  evil  genii  or  demons.  His  schemes, 
for  a  time,  were  crowned  with  great  success, 


which  shows  how  unsettled  the  Arabs  were  in 
those  days  in  matters  of  religion,  and  how  ready 
to  adopt  any  new  faith. 

Budhan,  the  Persian  whom  Mahomet  had  con- 
tinued as  viceroy  of  Arabia  Felix,  died  in  this 
year  ;  whereupon  Al  Aswad,  now  at  the  head  of  a 
powerful  sect,  slesv  his  son  and  successor, 
espoused  his  widow  after  putting  her  father  to 
death,  and  seized  upon  the  reins  of  government. 
The  people  of  Najran  invited  him  to  their  city  ; 
the  gates  of  Sanaa,  the  capital  of  Yemen,  were 
likewise  thrown  open  to  him,  so  that,  in  a  little 
while,  all  Arabia  Felix  submitted  to  his  sway. 

The  news  of  this  usurpation  found  Mahomet 
suffering  in  the  first  stages  of  a  dangerous  mal- 
ady, and  engrossed  by  preparations  tor  the  Syr- 
ian invasion.  Impatient  of  any  interruption  to 
his  plans,  and  reflecting  that  the  whole  danger 
and  difficulty  in  question  depended  upon  the  life 
of  an  individual,  he  sent  orders  to  certain  of  his 
adherents,  who  were  about  Al  Aswad,  to  make 
way  with  him  openly  or  by  stratagem,  either  way 
being  justifiable  against  enemies  of  the  faith,  ac- 
cording to  the  recent  revelation  promulgated  by 
Ali.  Two  persons  undertook  the  task,  less,  how- 
ever, through  motives  of  religion  than  revenge. 
One,  named  Rais,  had  received  a  mortal  offence 
from  the  usurper  ;  the  other,  named  Firuz  the 
Dai'lemite,  was  cousin  to  Al  Aswad' s  newly  es- 
poused wife  and  nephew  of  her  murdered  father. 
They  repaired  to  the  woman,  whose  marriage 
with  the  usurper  had  probably  been  compulsory, 
and  urged  upon  her  the  duty,  according  to  the 
Arab  law  of  blood,  of  avenging  the  deaths  of  her 
father  and  her  former  husband.  With  much  diffi- 
culty they  prevailed  upon  her  to  facilitate  their 
entrance  at  the  dead  of  night  into  the  chamber  of 
Al  Aswad,  who  was  asleep.  Firuz  stabbed  him 
in  the  throat  with  a  poniard.  The  blow  was  not 
effectual.  Al  Aswad  started  up,  and  his  cries 
alarmed  the  guard.  His  wife,  however,  went  forth 
and  quieted  them.  "  The  prophet,"  said  she, 
"  is  under  the  influence  of  divine  inspiration." 
By  this  time  the  cries  had  ceased,  for  the  assas- 
sins had  stricken  off  the  head  of  their  victim. 
When  the  day  dawned  the  standard  of  Mahomet 
floated  once  more  on  the  walls  of  the  city,  and  a 
herald  proclaimed,  by  sound  of  trumpet,  the  death 
of  Al  Aswad,  otherwise  called  the  Liar  and  Im- 
postor. His  career  of  power  began  and  was  ter- 
minated within  the  space  of  four  months.  The 
people,  easy  of  faith,  resumed  Islamism  with  as 
much  facility  as  they  had  abandoned  it. 

Mosei'lma,  the  other  impostor,  was  an  Arab  of 
the  tribe  of  Honeifa,  and  ruled  over  the  city  and 
province  of  Yamama,  situated  between  the  Red 
Sea  and  the  Gulf  of  Persia.  In  the  ninth  year  of 
the  Heigra  he  had  come  to  Mecca  at  the  head  of 
an  embassy  from  his  tribe,  and  had  made  profes- 
sion of  faith  between  the  hands  of  Mahomet  ;  but, 
on  returning  to  his  own  country,  had  proclaimed 
that  God  had  gifted  him  likewise  with  prophecy, 
and  appointed  him  to  aid  Mahomet  in  converting 
the  human  race.  To  this  effect  he  likewise  wrote 
a  Koran,  which  he  gave  forth  as  a  volume  of  in- 
spired truth.  His  creed  was  noted  for  giving  the 
soul  a  humiliating  residence  in  the  region  of  the 
abdomen. 

Being  a  man  of  influence  and  address,  he  soon 
made  hosts  of  converts  among  his  credulous 
countrymen.  Rendered  confident  by  success,  he 
addressed  an  epistle  to  Mahomet,  beginning  as 
follows  : 

"  From  Mosellma  the  prophet  of  Allah,  to 
Mahomet  the  prophet  of  Allah  !  Come  now,  and 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


let  us  make  a  partition  of  the  world,  and  let  half 
be  thine  and  half  be  mine." 

This  letter  came  also  to  the  hands  of  Mahomet 
while  bowed  down  by  infirmities  and  engrossed 
by  military  preparations.  He  contented  himself 
for  the  present  with  the  following'  reply  : 

"  From  Mahomet  the  prophet  of  God,  to  Mo- 
seilma  the  Liar  !  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  he 
giveth  it  as  an  inheritance  to  such  of  his  servants 
as  find  iavor  in  his  sight.  Happy  shall  those  be 
who  live  in  his  fear." 

In  the  urgency  of  other  affairs,  the  usurpation 
of  Mosei'lma  remained  unchecked.  His  punish- 
ment was  reserved  for  a  future  day. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

AN  ARMY  PREPARED  TO  MARCH  AGAINST  SYRIA 
— COMMAND  GIVEN  TO  OSAMA — THE  PROPHET'S 
FAREWELL  ADDRESS  TO  THE  TROOPS — HIS  LAST 
ILLNESS — HIS  SERMONS  IN  THE  MOSQUE — HIS 
DEATH  AND  THE  ATTENDING  CIRCUMSTANCES. 

IT  was  early  in  the  eleventh  year  of  the  Hegira 
that,  after  unusual  preparations,  a  powerful  army 
was  ready  to  march  for  the  invasion  of  Syria.  It 
would  almost  seem  a  proof  of  the  tailing  powers  of 
Mahomet's  mind,  that  he  gave  the  command  of 
such  an  army,  on  such  an  expedition,  to  Osama, 
a  youth  but  twenty  years  of  age,  instead  of  some 
one  of  his  veteran  and  well-tried  generals.  It 
seems  to  have  been  a  matter  of  favor,  dictated  by 
tender  and  grateful  recollections.  Osama  was  the 
son  of  Zeid,  Mahomet's  devoted  freed  man,  who 
had  given  the  prophet  such  a  signal  and  accepta- 
ble proof  of  devotion  in  relinquishing  to  him  his 
beautiful  wife  Zeinab.  Zeid  had  continued  to  the 
last  the  same  zealous  and  self-sacrificing  disciple, 
and  had  fallen  bravely  fighting  for  the  faith  in  the 
battle  of  Muta. 

Mahomet  was  aware  of  the  hazard  of  the  choice 
he  had  made,  and  feared  the  troops  might  be  in- 
subordinate under  so  young  a  commander.  In  a 
general  review,  therefore,  he  exhorted  them  to 
obedience,  reminding  them  that  Osama's  father, 
Zeid,  had  commanded  an  expedition  of  this  very 
kind,  against  the  very  same  people,  and  had  fallen 
by  their  hands  ;  it  was  but  a  just  tribute  to  his 
memory,  therefore,  to  give  his  son  an  opportunity 
of  avenging  his  death.  Then  placing  his  banner 
in  the  hands  of  the  youthful  general,  he  called 
upon  him  to  fight  valiantly  the  fight  of  the  faith 
against  all  who  should  deny  the  unity  of  God. 
The  army  marched  forth  that  very  day,  and  en- 
camped at  Djorf,  a  few  miles  from  Medina  ;  but 
circumstances  occurred  to  prevent  its  further 
progress. 

That  very  night  Mahomet  had  a  severe  access 
of  the  malady  which  for  some  time  past  had  af- 
fected him,  and  which  was  ascribed  by  some  to 
the  lurking  effects  of  the  poison  given  to  him  at 
Khai'bar.  It  commenced  with  a  violent  pain  in 
the  head,  accompanied  by  vertigo,  and  the  delir- 
ium which  seems  to  have  mingled  with  all  his 
paroxysms  of  illness.  Starting  up  in  the  mid- 
watches  of  the  night  from  a  troubled  dream,  he 
called  upon  an  attendant  slave  to  accompany 
him,  saying  he  was  summoned  by  the  dead  who 
lay  interred  in  the  public  burying-place  of  Medina 
to  come  and  pray  lor  them.  Followed  by  the 
slave,  he  passed  through  the  dark  and  silent  city, 
where  all  were  sunk  in  sleep,  to  the  great  bury- 
ing-ground,  outside  of  the  walls. 


Arrived  in  the  midst  of  the  tombs,  he  lifted  up 
his  voice  and  made  a  solemn  apostrophe  to  their 
tenants.  '  Rejoice,  ye  dwellers  in  the  grave  !" 
exclaimed  he.  "  More  peaceful  is  the  morning  to 
which  ye  shall  awaken,  than  that  which  attends 
the  living.  Happier  is  your  condition  than  theirs. 
God  has  delivered  you  from  the  storms  with  which 
they  are  threatened,  and  which  shall  follow  one 
another  like  the  watches  of  a  stormy  night,  each 
darker  than  that  which  went  before." 

After  praying  for  the  dead,  he  turned  and  ad- 
dressed nis  slave.  "  The  choice  is  given  me," 
said  he,  "  either  to  remain  in  this  world  to  the 
end  of  time,  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  its  delights,  or 
to  return  sooner  to  tne  presence  of  God  ;  and  I 
have  chosen  the  latter." 

From  this  time  his  illness  rapidly  increased, 
though  he  endeavored  to  go  about  as  usual,  and 
shifted  his  residence  from  day  to  day,  with  his 
different  wives,  as  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do. 
He  was  in  the  dwelling  of  Mai'mona,  when  the 
violence  of  his  malady  became  so  great,  that  he 
saw  it  must  soon  prove  fatal.  His  heart  now 
yearned  to  be  with  his  favorite  wife  Ayesha,  and 
pass  with  her  the  fleeting  residue  of  life.  With 
his  head  bound  up,  and  his  tottering  frame  sup- 
ported by  Ali  and  Fadhl,  the  son  of  Al  Abbas,  he 
repaired  to  her  abode.  She,  likewise,  was  suffer- 
ing with  a  violent  pain  in  the  head,  and  entreated 
of  him  a  remedy. 

"  Wherefore  a  remedy  ?"  said  he.  "  Better 
that  thou  shouldst  die  before  me.  I  could  then 
close  thine  eyes,  wrap  thee  in  thy  funeral  garb, 
lay  thee  in  the  tomb,  and  pray  for  thee." 

"  Yes,"  replied  she,  "  and  then  return  to  my 
house  and  dwell  with  one  of  thy  other  wives,  who 
would  profit  by  my  death." 

Mahomet  smiled  at  this  expression  of  jealous 
fondness,  and  resigned  himself  into  her  care. 
His  only  remaining  child,  Fatima,  the  wife  of  Ali, 
came  presently  to  see  him.  Ayesha  used  to  say 
that  she  never  saw  any  one  resemble  the  prophet 
more  in  sweetness  of  temper,  than  this  his 
daughter.  He  treated  her  always  with  respectful 
tenderness.  When  she  came  to  him,  he  used  to 
rise  up,  go  toward  her,  take  her  by  the  hand,  and 
kiss  it,  and  would  seat  her  in  his  own  place.  Their 
meeting  on  this  occasion  is  thus  related  by 
Ayesha,  in  the  traditions  preserved  by  Abulfeda. 

"  '  Welcome,  my  child  ! '  said  the  prophet,  and 
made  her  sit  beside  him.  He  then  whispered 
something  in  her  ear,  at  which  she  wept.  Per- 
ceiving her  affliction,  he  whispered  something 
more,  and  her  countenance  brightened  with  joy. 
'  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  ? '  said  I  to  Fatima. 
'  The  prophet  honors  thee  with  a  mark  of  confi- 
dence never  bestowed  on  any  of  his  wives.' 
cannot  disclose  the  secret  of  the  prophet  of  God,' 
replied  Fatima.  Nevertheless,  after  his  death, 
she  declared  that  at  first  he  announced  to  her  his 
impending  death  ;  but,  seeing  her  weep,  consoled 
her  with  the  assurance  that  she  would  shortly  fol- 
low him,  and  become  a  princess  in  heaven,  among 
the  faithful  of  her  sex." 

In  the  second  day  of  his  illness,  Mahomet  was 
tormented  by  a  burning  fever,  and  caused  vessels 
of  water  to  be  emptied  on  his  head  and  over  his 
body,  exclaiming,  amidst  his  paroxysms,  "  Now  I 
feel  the  poison  of  Khai'bar  rending  my  entrails." 

When  somewhat  relieved,  he  was  aided  in  re- 
pairing to  the  mosque,  which  was  adjacent  to  his 
residence.  Here,  seated  in  his  chair,  or  pulpit, 
he  prayed  devoutly  ;  after  which,  addressing  the 
congregation,  which  was  numerous,  "  If  any  of 
you,"  said  he,  "  have  aught  upon  his  conscience. 


68 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


let  him  speak  out,  that  I  may  ask  God's  pardon 
for  him." 

Upon  this  a  man,  who  had  passed  for  a  devout 
Moslem,  stood  forth  and  confessed  himself  a  hyp- 
ocrite, a  liar,  and  a  weak  disciple.  '  Out  upon 
thee  !"  cried  Omar,  "  why  dost  thou  make  known 
what  God  had  suffered  to  remain  concealed?" 
But  Mahomet  turned  rebukingly  to  Omar.  "  Oh 
son  of  Khattab,"  said  he,  "  better  is  it  to  blush  in 
this  world,  than  suffer  in  the  next."  Then  lifting 
his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  praying  for  the  self-ac- 
cused, "  Oh  God,"  exclaimed  he,  "give  him  rec- 
titude and  faith,  and  take  from  him  all  weakness 
in  fulfilling  such  of  thy  commands  as  his  con- 
science dictates." 

Again  addressing  the  congregation,  "  Is  there 
any  one  among  you,"  said  he,  "  whom  I  have 
stricken  ;  here  is  my  back,  let  him  strike  me  in 
return.  Is  there  any  one  whose  character  I  have 
aspersed  ;  let  him  now  cast  reproach  upon  me. 
Is  there  any  one  from  whom  I  nave  taken  aught 
unjustly  ;  let  him  now  come  forward  and  be  in- 
demnified." 

Upon  this,  a  man  among  the  throng  reminded 
Mahomec  of  a  debt  of  three  dinars  of  silver,  and 
was  instantly  repaid  with  interest.  "  Much  easier 
is  it,"  said  the  prophet,  "  to  bear  punishment  in 
this  world  than  throughout  eternity." 

He  now  prayed  fervently  for  the  faithful  who 
had  fallen  by  his  side  in  the  battle  of  Ohod,  and 
for  those  who  had  suffered  for  the  faith  in  other 
battles  ;  interceding  with  them  in  virtue  of  the 
pact  which  exists  between  the  living  and  the  dead. 

After  this  he  addressed  the  Mohajerins  or  Ex- 
iles, who  had  accompanied  him  from  Mecca,  ex- 
horting them  to  hold  in  honor  the  Ansarians,  or 
allies  of  Medina.  "The  number  of  believers," 
said  he,  "  will  increase,  but  that  of  the  allies 
never  can.  They  were  my  family  ;  with  whom  I 
found  a  home.  Do  good  to  those  who  do  good 
to  them,  and  break  friendship  with  those  who  are 
hostile  to  them." 

He  then  gave  three  parting  commands  : 

First. — Expel  all  idolaters  from  Arabia. 

Second. — Allow  all  proselytes  equal  privileges 
with  yourselves. 

Third. — Devote  yourselves  incessantly  to  prayer. 

His  sermon  and  exhortation  being  finished,  he 
was  affectionately  supported  back  to  the  mansion 
of  Ayesha,  but  was  so  exhausted  on  arriving  there 
that  he  fainted. 

His  malady  increased  from  day  to  day,  apparent- 
ly with  intervals  of  delirium  ;  for  he  spoke  of  receiv- 
ing visits  from  the  angel  Gabriel,  who  came  from 
God  to  inquire  after  the  state  of  his  health  ;  and 
told  him  that  it  rested  with  himself  to  fix  his  dy- 
ing moment  ;  the  angel  of  death  being  forbidden 
by  Allah  to  enter  his  presence  without  his  per- 
mission. 

In  one  of  his  paroxysms  he  called  for  writing 
implements,  that  he  might  leave  some  rules  of 
conduct  for  his  followers.  His  attendants  were 
troubled,  fearing  he  might  do  something  to  im- 
pair the  authority  of  the  Koran.  Hearing  them 
debate  among  themselves,  whether  to  comply 
with  his  request,  he  ordered  them  to  leave  the 
room,  and  when  they  returned  said  nothing  more 
on  the  subject. 

On  Friday,  the  day  of  religious  assemblage,  he 
prepared,  notwithstanding  his  illness,  to  officiate 
in  the  mosque,  and  had  water  again  poured  over 
him  to  refresh  and  strengthen  him,  but  on  mak- 
ing an  effort  to  go  forth,  fainted.  On  recovering, 
he  requested  Abu  Beker  to  perform  the  public 
prayers  ;  observing,  "  Allah  has  given  his  ser- 


vant the  right  lo  appoint  whom  he  pleases  in  his 
place."  It  was  afterward  maintained  by  some 
that  he  thus  intended  to  designate  this  long-tried 
friend  and  adherent  as  his  successor  in  office  ;  but 
Abu  Beker  shrank  from  construing  the  words  too 
closely. 

Word  was  soon  brought  to  Mahomet,  that  the 
appearance  of  Abu  Beker  in  the  pulpit  had  caused 
great  agitation,  a  rumor  being  circulated  that  the 
prophet  was  dead.  Exerting  his  remaining 
strength,  therefore,  and  leaning  on  the  shoulders 
of  AH  and  Al  Abbas,  he  made  his  way  into  the 
mosque,  where  his  appearance  spread  joy  through- 
out the  congregation.  Abu  Beker  ceased  to  pray, 
but  Mahomet  bade  him  proceed,  and  taking  his 
seat  behind  him  in  the  pulpit,  repeated  the  pray- 
ers after  him.  Then  addressing  the  congrega- 
tion, "  I  have  heard,"  said  he,  "  that  a  rumor  of 
the  death  of  your  prophet  filled  you  with  alarm  ; 
but  has  any  prophet  before  me  lived  forever,  that 
ye  think  I  would  never  leave  you  ?  Everything 
happens  according  to  the  will  of  God,  and  has  its 
appointed  time,  which  is  not  to  be  hastened  nor 
avoided.  I  return  to  him  who  sent  me  ;  and  my 
last  command  to  you  is,  that  ye  remain  united  ; 
that  ye  love,  honor,  and  uphold  each  other  ;  that 
ye  exhort  each  other  to  faith  and  constancy  in  be- 
lief, and  to  the  performance  of  pious  deeds  ;  by 
these  alone  men  prosper  ;  all  else  leads  to  de- 
struction." 

In  concluding  his  exhortation  he  added,  "  I 
do  but  go  before  you  ;  you  will  soon  follow  me. 
Death  awaits  us  all  ;  let  no  one  then  seek  to  turn 
it  aside  from  me.  My  life  has  been  for  your  good  ; 
so  will  be  my  death." 

These  were  the  last  words  he  spake  in  public  ; 
he  was  again  conducted  back  by  AH  and  Abbas  to 
the  dwelling  of  Ayesha. 

On  a  succeeding  day  there  was  an  interval  dur- 
ing which  he  appeared  so  well  that  Ali,  Abu 
Beker,  Omar,  and  the  rest  of  those  who  had  been 
constantly  about  him,  absented  themselves  for  a 
time,  to  attend  to  their  affairs.  Ayesha  alone  re- 
mained with  him.  The  interval  was  but  illusive. 
His  pains  returned  with  redoubled  violence.  Find- 
ing death  approaching  he  gave  orders  that  all  his 
slaves  should  be  restored  to  freedom,  and  all  the 
money  in  the  house  distributed  among  the  poor  ; 
then  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  "  God  be  with 
me  in  the  death  struggle,"  exclaimed  he. 

Ayesha  now  sent  in  haste  for  her  father  and 
Hafza.  Left  alone  with  Mahomet,  she  sustained 
his  head  on  her  lap,  watching  over  him  with 
tender  assiduity,  and  endeavoring  to  soothe  his 
dying  agonies.  From  time  to  time  he  would  dip 
his  hand  in  a  vase  of  water,  and  with  it  feebly 
sprinkle  his  face.  At  length  raising  his  eyes  and 
gazing  upward  tor  a  time  with  unmoving  eyelids, 
"  Oh  Allah  !"  ejaculated  he,  in  broken  accents, 
"  be  it  so  ! — among  the  glorious  associates  in 
paradise  !" 

"  I  knew  by  this,"  said  Ayesha,  who  related  the 
dying  scene,  "  that  his  last  moment  had  arrived, 
and  that  he  had  made  choice  of  supernal  exist- 
ence." 

In  a  few  moments  his  hands  were  cold,  and  life 
was  extinct.  Ayesha  laid  his  head  upon  the  pil- 
low, and  beating  her  head  and  breast,  gave  way 
to  loud  lamentations.  Her  outcries  brought  the 
other  wives  of  Mahomet,  and  their  clamorous 
grief  soon  made  the  event  known  throughout  the 
city.  Consternation  seized  upon  the  people,  as  if 
some  prodigy  had  happened.  All  business  was 
suspended.  The  army  which  had  struck  its  tents 
was  ordered  to  halt,  and  Osama,  whose  foot  was 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


G9 


in  the  stirrup  for  the  march,  turned  his  steed  to 
the  gates  of  Medina,  and  planted  his  standard  at 
the  prophet's  door. 

The  multitude  crowded  to  contemplate  the 
corpse,  and  agitation  and  dispute  prevailed  even 
in  the  chamber  of  death.  Some  discredited  the 
evidence  of  their  senses.  "  How  can  he  be  dead  ?" 
cried  they.  "  Is  he  not  our  mediator  with  God  ? 
How  then  can  he  be  dead  ?  Impossible  !  He  is 
but  in  a  trance,  and  carried  up  to  heaven  like  Isa 
(Jesus)  and  the  other  prophets." 

The  throng  augmented  about  the  house,  declar- 
ing with  clamor  that  the  body  should  not  be  inter- 
red ;  when  Omar,  who  had  just  heard  the  tidings, ar- 
rived. He  drew  his  scimetar,  and  pressing  through 
the  crowd,  threatened  to  strike  off  the  hands  and 
feet  of  anyone  who  should  affirm  that  the  prophet 
was  dead.  "  He  has  but  departed  for  a  time," 
said  he,  "  as  Musa  (Moses)  the  son  of  Imram, 
went  up  forty  days  into  the  mountain  ;  and  like 
him  he  will  return  again." 

Abu  Beker,  who  had  been  in  a  distant  part  of 
the  city,  arrived  in  time  to  soothe  the  despair  of 
the  people  and  calm  the  transports  of  Omar. 
Passing  into  the  chamber  he  raised  the  cloth 
which  covered  the  corpse,  and  kissing  the  pale 
face  of  Mahomet,  "Oh  thou  !"  exclaimed  he, 
"  who  wert  to  me  as  my  father  and  my  mother  ; 
sweet  art  thou  even  in  death,  and  living  odors 
dost  thou  exhale  !  Now  livest  thou  in  everlasting 
bliss,  for  never  will  Allah  subject  thee  to  a  second 
death." 

Then  covering  the  corpse,  he  went  forth  and  en- 
deavored to  silence  Omar,  but  finding  it  impossible, 
he  addressed  the  multitude  :  "  Truly  if  Mahomet 
is  the  sole  object  of  your  adoration,  he  is  dead  ; 
but  if  it  be  God  you  worship,  he  cannot  die.  Ma- 
homet was  but  the  prophet  of  God,  and  has  shared 
the  late  of  the  apostles  and  holy  men  who  have 
gone  before  him.  Allah,  himself,  has  said  in  his 
Koran  that  Mahomet  was  but  his  ambassador, 
and  was  subject  to  death.  What  then  !  will  you 
turn  the  heel  upon  him,  and  abandon  his  doctrine 
because  he  is  dead  ?  Remember  your  apostasy 
harms  not  God,  but  insures  your  own  condemna- 
tion ;  while  the  blessings  of  God  will  be  poured 
out  upon  those  who  continue  faithful  to  him." 

The  people  listened  to  Abu  Beker  with  tears 
and  sobbings,  and  as  they  listened  their  despair 
subsided.  Even  Omar  was  convinced  but  not 
consoled,  throwing  himself  on  the  earth,  and  be- 
wailing the  death  of  Mahomet,  whom  he  remem- 
bered as  his  commander  and  his  friend. 

The  death  of  the  prophet,  according  to  the 
Moslem  historians  Abulfeda  and  Al  Jannabi,  took 
place  on  his  birthday,  when  he  had  completed  his 
sixty-third  year.  It  was  in  the  eleventh  year  of 
the  Hegira,  and  the  632d  year  of  the  Christian  era. 

The  body  was  prepared  for  sepulture  by  several 
of  the  dearest  relatives  and  disciples.  They  affirm- 
ed that,  a  marvellous  fragrance  which,  according 
to  the  evidence  of  his  wives  and  daughters,  ema- 
nated from  his  person  during  life,  still  continued  ; 
so  that,  to  use  the  words  of  Ali,  "  it  seemed  as 
it  he  were,  at  the  same  time,  dead  and  living." 

The  body  having  been  washed  and  perfumed, 
was  wrapped  in  three  coverings  :  two  white,  and 
the  third  of  the  striped  cloth  of  Yemen.  The 
whole  was  then  perfumed  with  amber,  musk, 
aloes,  and  odoriferous  herbs.  After  this  it  was 
exposed  in  public,  and  seventy-two  prayers  were 
offered  up. 

The  body  remained  three  days  unburied,  in 
compliance  with  oriental  custom,  and  to  satisfy 
those  who  still  believed  in  the  possibility  of  a 


trance.  When  the  evidences  of  mortality  could 
no  longer  be  mistaken,  preparations  were  made 
for  interment.  A  dispute  now  arose  as  to  the 
place  of  sepulture.  The  Mohadjerins  or  disciples 
Irom  Mecca  contended  for  that  city,  as  being  the 
place  of  his  nativity  ;  the  Ansarians  claimed  for 
Medina,  as  his  asylum  and  the  place  of  his  resi- 
dence during  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life.  A 
third  party  advised  that  his  remains  should  be 
transported  to  Jerusalem,  as  the  place  of  sepul- 
ture of  the  prophets.  Abu  Beker,  whose  word 
had  always  the  greatest  weight,  declared  it  to 
have  been  the  expressed  opinion  of  Mahomet  that 
a  prophet  should  be  buried  in  the  place  where  he 
died.  This  in  the  present  instance  was  complied 
with  to  the  very  letter,  for  a  grave  was  digged  in 
the  house  of  Ayesha,  beneath  the  very  bed  on 
which  Mahomet  had  expired. 

NOTE. — The  house  of  Ayesha  was  immediately  ad- 
jacent to  the  mosque  ;  which  was  at  that  time  a  hum- 
ble edifice  with  clay  walls,  and  a  roof  thatched  with 
palm-leaves,  and  supported  by  the  trunks  of  trees.  It 
has  since  been  included  in  a  spacious  temple,  on  the 
plan  of  a  colonnade,  inclosing  an  oblong  square,  165 
paces  by  130,  open  to  the  heavens,  with  four  gates  of. 
entrance.  The  colonnade,  of  several  rows  of  pillars 
of  various  sizes  covered  with  stucco  and  gayly  paint- 
ed, supports  a  succession  of  small  white  cupolas  on 
the  four  sides  of  the  square.  At  the  four  corners  are 
lofty  and  tapering  minarets. 

Near  the  south-east  corner  of  the  square  is  an  in- 
closure,  surrounded  by  an  iron  railing,  painted  green, 
wrought  with  filigree  work  and  interwoven  with  brass 
and  gilded  wire  ;  admitting  no  view  of  the  interior 
excepting  through  small  windows,  about  six  inches 
square.  This  inclosure,  the  great  resort  of  pilgrims, 
is  called  the  Hadgira,  and  contains  the  tombs  of 
Mahomet,  and  his  two  friends  and  early  successors, 
Abu  Beker  and  Omar.  Above  this  sacred  inclosure 
rises  a  lofty  dome  surmounted  with  a  gilded  globe  and 
crescent,  at  the  first  sight  of  which,  pilgrims,  as  they 
approach  Medina,  salute  the  tomb  of  the  prophet  with 
profound  inclinations  of  the  body  and  appropriate 
prayers.  The  marvellous  tale,  so  long  considered 
veritable,  that  the  coffin  of  Mahomet  remained  sus- 
pended in  the  air  without  any  support,  and  which 
Christian  writers  accounted  for  by  supposing  that  it 
was  of  iron,  and  dexterously  placed  midway  between 
two  magnets,  is  proved  to  be  an  idle  fiction. 

The  mosque  has  undergone  changes.  It  was  at  one 
time  partially  thrown  down  and  destroyed  in  an  awful 
tempest,  but  was  rebuilt  by  the  Soldan  of  Egypt.  It 
has  been  enlarged  and  embellished  by  various  Caliphs, 
and  in  particular  by  Waled  I.,  under  whom  Spain  was 
invaded  and  conquered.  It  was  plundered  of  its  im- 
mense votive  treasures  by  the  Wahabees  when  they 
took  and  pillaged  Medina.  It  is  now  maintained, 
though  with  diminished  splendor,  under  the  care  of 
about  thirty  Agas,  whose  chief  is  called  Sheikh  Al 
Haram,  or  chief  of  the  Holy  House.  He  is  the 
principal  personage  in  Medina.  Pilgrimage  to  Medi- 
na, though  considered  a  most  devout  and  meritorious 
act,  is  not  imposed  on  Mahometans,  like  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca,  as  a  religious  duty,  and  has  much  declined 
in  modern  days. 

The  foregoing  particulars  are  from  Burckhardt,  who 
gained  admission  into  Medina,  as  well  as  into  Mecca, 
in  disguise  and  at  great  peril  ;  admittance  into  those 
cities  being  prohibited  to  all  but  Moslems. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

PERSON     AND     CHARACTER    OF     MAHOMET,     AND 
SPECULATIONS    ON    HIS   PROPHETIC   CAREER. 

MAHOMET,  according  to  accounts  handed  down 
by  tradition  from  his  contemporaries,  was  of  the- 


70 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


middle  stature,  square  built  and  sinewy,  with 
large  hands  and  feet.  In  his  youth  he  was  un- 
commonly strong  and  vigorous  ;  in  the  latter  part 
of  his  life  he  inclined  to  corpulency.  His  head 
was  capacious,  well  shaped,  and  well  set  on  a  neck 
which  rose  like  a  pillar  from  his  ample  chest. 
His  forehead  was  high,  broad  at  the  tempies  and 
crossed  by  veins  extending  down  to  the  eyebrows, 
which  swelled  whenever  he  was  angry  or  excited. 
He  had  an  oval  face,  marked  and  expressive  feat- 
ures, an  aquiline  nose,  black  eyes,  arched  eye- 
brows which  nearly  met,  a  mouth  large  and  flexi- 
ble, indicative  of  eloquence  ;  very  white  teeth, 
somewhat  parted  and  irregular  ;  black  hair,  which 
waved  without  a  curl  on  his  shoulders,  and  a  long 
and  very  full  beard. 

His  deportment,  in  general,  was  calm  and 
equable  ;  he  sometimes  indulged  in  pleasantry, 
but  more  commonly  was  grave  and  dignified  ; 
though  he  is  said  to  have  possessed  a  smile  of 
captivating  sweetness.  His  complexion  was  more 
ruddy  than  is  usual  with  Arabs,  and  in  his  excited 
and  enthusiastic  moments  there  was  a  glow  and 
radiance  in  his  countenance,  which  his  disciples 
magnified  into  the  supernatural  light  of  prophecy. 

His  intellectual  qualities  were  undoubtedly  of 
an  extraordinary  kind.  He  had  a  quick  appre- 
hension, a  retentive  memory,  a  vivid  imagination, 
and  an  inventive  genius.  Owing  but  little  to  ed- 
ucation, he  had  quickened  and  informed  his  mind 
by  close  observation,  and  stored  it  with  a  great 
variety  of  knowledge  concerning  the  systems  of 
religion  current  in  his  day,  or  handed  down  by- 
tradition  from  antiquity.  His  ordinary  discourse 
was  grave  and  sententious,  abounding  with  those 
aphorisms  and  apologues  so  popular  among  the 
Arabs  ;  at  times  he  was  excited  and  eloquent, 
and  his  eloquence  was  aided  by  a  voice  musical 
and  sonorous. 

He  was  sober  and  abstemious  in  his  diet,  and 
a  rigorous  observer  of  fasts.  He  indulged  in  no 
magnificence  of  apparel,  the  ostentation  of  a  petty 
mind  ;  neither  was  his  simplicity  in  dress  affect- 
ed, but  the  result  of  a  real  disregard  to  distinc- 
tion from  so  trivial  a  source.  His  garments  were 
sometimes  of  wool,  sometimes  of  the  striped  col- 
ton  of  Yemen,  and  were  often  patched.  He  wore 
a  turban,  for  he  said  turbans  were  worn  by  the 
angels  ;  and  in  arranging  it  he  let  one  end  hang 
down  between  his  shoulders,  which  he  said  was 
the  way  they  wore  it.  He  forbade  the  wearing  of 
clothes  entirely  of  silk  ;  but  permitted  a  mixture 
of  thread  and  silk.  He  forbade  also  red  clothes 
and  the  use  of  gold  rings.  He  wore  a  seal  ring 
of  silver,  the  engraved  part  under  his  finger  close 
to  the  palm  of  his  hand,  bearing  the  inscription, 
"  Mahomet  the  messenger  of  God."  He  was 
scrupulous  as  to  personal  cleanliness,  and  ob- 
served frequent  ablutions.  In  some  respects  he 
was  a  voluptuary.  "  There  are  two  things  in  this 
world,"  would  he  say,  "  which  delight  me, 
women  and  perfumes.  These  two  things  rejoice 
my  eyes,  and  render  me  more  fervent  in  devo- 
tion." From  his  extreme  cleanliness,  and  the  use 
of  perfumes  and  of  sweet-scented  oil  for  his  hair, 
probably  arose  that  sweetness  and  fragrance  of 
person,  which  his  disciples  considered  innate  and 
miraculous.  His  passion  for  the  sex  had  an  influ- 
ence over  all  his  affairs.  It  is  said  that  when  in 
the  presence  of  a  beautiful  female,  he  was  contin- 
ually smoothing  his  brow  and  adjusting  his  hair, 
as  if  anxious  to  appear  to  advantage. 

The  number  of  his  wives  is  uncertain.  Abul- 
feda,  who  writes  with  more  caution  than  other  of 
the  Arabian  historians,  limits  it  to  fifteen,  though 


some  make  it  as  much  as  twenty-five.  At  the 
time  of  his  death  he  had  nine,  each  in  her  sep- 
arate dwelling,  and  all  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
mosque  at  Medina.  The  plea  alleged  lor  his  in- 
dulging in  a  greater  number  of  wives  than  he  per- 
mitted to  his  followers,  was  a  desire  to  beget  a 
race  of  prophets  for  his  people.  If  such  indeed 
were  his  desire,  it  was  disappointed.  Of  all  his 
children.  Fatima  the  wife  of  Ali  alone  survived 
him,  and  she  died  within  a  short  time  after  his 
death.  Of  her  descendants  none  excepting  her 
eldest  son  Hassan  ever  sat  on  the  throne  of  the 
Caliphs. 

In  his  private  dealings  he  was  just.  He  treated 
friends  and  strangers,  the  rich  and  poor,  the  pow- 
erful and  the  weak,  with  equity,  and  was  beloved 
by  the  common  people  for  the  affability  with  which 
he  received  them,  and  listened  to  their  com- 
plaints. 

He  was  naturally  irritable,  but  had  brought  his 
temper  under  great  control,  so  that  even  in  the 
self-indulgent  intercourse  of  domestic  life  he  was 
kind  and  tolerant.  "  I  served  him  from  the  time 
I  was  eight  years  old,"  said  his  servant  Anas, 
"  and  he  never  scolded  me  for  any  thing,  though 
things  were  spoiled  by  me." 

The  question  now  occurs,  Was  he  the  unprin- 
cipled impostor  that  he  has  been  represented  ? 
Were  all  his  visions  and  revelations  deliberate 
falsehoods,  and  was  his  whole  system  a  tissue  of 
deceit  ?  In  considering  this  question  \ve  must 
bear  in  mind  that  he  is  not  chargeable  with  many 
extravagancies  which  exist  in  his  name.  Many 
of  the  visions  and  revelations  handed  down  as 
having  been  given  by  him  are  spurious.  The 
miracles  ascribed  to  him  are  all  fabrications  of 
Moslem  zealots.  He  expressly  and  repeatedly  dis- 
claimed all  miracles  excepting  the  Koran  ;  which, 
considering  its  incomparable  merit,  and  the  way 
in  which  it  had  come  clown  to  him  from  heaven, 
he  pronounced  the  greatest  of  miracles.  And 
here  we  must  indulge  a  few  observations  on  this 
famous  document.  While  zealous  Moslems  and 
some  of  the  most  learned  doctors  of  the  faith  draw 
proofs  of  its  divine  origin  from  the  inimitable  ex- 
cellence of  its  style  and  composition,  and  the 
avowed  illiteracy  of  Mahomet,  less  devout  critics 
have  pronounced  it  a  chaos  of  beauties  and  de- 
fects ;  without  method  or  arrangement  ;  full  ot 
obscurities,  incoherencies,  repetitions,  false  ver- 
sions of  scriptural  stories,  and  direct  contradic- 
tions. The  truth  is  that  the  Koran  as  it  now  ex- 
ists is  not  the  same  Koran  delivered  by  Mahomet 
to  his  disciples,  but  has  undergone  many  corrup- 
tions and  interpolations.  The  revelations  con- 
tained in  it  were  given  at  various  times,  in  various 
places,  and  before  various  persons  ;  sometimes 
they  were  taken  down  by  his  secretaries  or  disci- 
ples on  parchment,  on  palm-leaves,  or  the 
shoulder-blades  of  sheep,  and  thrown  together  in 
a  chest,  of  which  one  of  his  wives  had  charge  ; 
sometimes  they  w^ere  merely  treaasured  up  in  the 
memories  of  those  who  heard  them.  No  care  ap- 
pears to  have  been  taken  to  systematize  and  ar- 
range them  during  his  life  ;  and  at  his  death  they 
remained  in  scattered  fragments,  many  of  them 
at  the  mercy  of  fallacious  memories.  It  was  not 
until  some  time  after  his  death  that  Abu  Beker 
undertook  to  have  them  gathered  together  and 
transcribed.  Zeid  Ibn  Thabet,  who  had  been  one  of 
the  secretaries  of  Mahomet,  was  employed  for 
the  purpose.  He  professed  to  know  many  parts 
of  the  Koran  by  heart,  having  written  them  down 
under  the  dictation  of  the  prophet  ;  other  parts 
he  collected  piecemeal  from  various  hands,  written 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


71 


down  in  the  rude  way  we  have  mentioned,  and 
many  parts  he  took  down  as  repeated  to  him  by- 
various  disciples  who  professed  to  have  heard 
them  uttered  by  the  prophet  himself.  The  hete- 
rogeneous fragments  thus  collected  were  thrown 
together  without  selection,  without  chronological 
order,  and  without  system  of  any  kind.  The  vol- 
ume thus  formed  during  the  Caliphatof  Abu  Beker 
was  transcribed  by  different  hands,  and  many 
professed  copies  put  in  circulation  and  dis- 
persed throughout  the  Moslem  cities.  So  many 
errors,  interpolations,  and  contradictory  read- 
ings soon  crept  into  these  copies,  that  Othman, 
the  third  Caliph,  called  in  the  various  manuscripts, 
and  forming  what  he  pronounced  the  genuine  Ko- 
ran, caused  all  the  others  to  be  destroyed. 

This  simple  statement  may  account  for  many  of 
the  incoherences,  repetitions,  and  other  discrep- 
ancies charged  upon  this  singular  document. 
Mahomet,  as  nas  justly  been  observed,  may  have 
given  the  same  precepts,  or  related  the  same  apo- 
logue at  different  times,  to  different  persons  in 
different  words  ;  or  various  persons  may  have 
been  present  at  one  time,  and  given  various  ver- 
sions of  his  words  ;  and  reported  his  apologues 
and  scriptural  stories  in  different  ways,  according 
to  their  imperfect  memoranda  or  fallible  recollec- 
tions. Many  revelations  given  by  him  as  having 
been  made  in  foregone  times  to  the  prophets,  his 
predecessors,  may  have  been  reported  as  having 
been  given  as  relations  made  to  himself.  It  has 
been  intimated  that  Abu  Beker,  in  the  early  days 
ot  his  Caliphat,  may  have  found  it  politic  to  inter- 
polate many  things  in  the  Koran,  calculated  to 
aid  him  in  emergencies,  and  confirm  the  empire 
of  Islamism.  What  corruptions  and  interpolations 
may  have  been  made  by  other  and  less  scrupulous 
hands,  after  the  prophet's  death,  we  may  judge  by 
the  daring  liberties  of  the  kind  taken  by  Abdal- 
lah  Ibn  Saad,  one  of  his  secretaries,  during  his 
lifetime. 

From  all  these  circumstances  it  will  appear, 
that  even  the  documentary  memorials  concerning 
Mahomet  abound  with  vitiations,  while  the  tradi- 
tional are  full  of  fable.  These  increase  the  diffi- 
culty of  solving  the  enigma  of  his  character  and 
conduct.  His  history  appears  to  resolve  itself  into 
two  grand  divisions.  During  the  first  part,  up  to 
the  period  of  middle  life,  we  cannot  perceive  what 
adequate  object  he  had  to  gain  by  the  impious 
and  stupendous  imposture  with  which  he  stands 
charged.  Was  it  riches  ?  His  marriage  with 
Cadijah  had  already  made  him  wealthy,  and  for 
years  preceding  his  pretended  vision  he  had  man- 
ifested no  desire  to  increase  his  store.  Wras  it 
distinction  ?  He  already  stood  high  in  his  native 
place,  as  a  man  of  intelligence  and  probity.  He 
was  of  the  illustrious  tribe  of  Koreish,  and  of  the 
most  honored  branch  of  that  tribe.  Was  it  power  ? 
The  guardianship  of  the  Caaba,  and  with  it  the 
command  of  the  sacred  city,  had  been  for  gen- 
erations in  his  immediate  family,  and  his  situation 
and  circumstances  entitled  him  to  look  forward 
with  confidence  to  that  exalted  trust.  In  attempt- 
ing to  subvert  the  faith  in  which  he  had  been 
brought  up,  he  struck  at  the  root  of  all  these  ad- 
vantages. On  that  faith  were  founded  the  for- 
tunes and  dignities  of  his  family.  To  assail  it 
must  draw  on  himself  the  hostility  of  his  kindred, 
the  indignation  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  the  hor- 
ror and  odium  of  all  his  countrymen,  who  were 
worshippers  at  the  Caaba. 

Was  there  anything  brilliant  in  the  outset  of  his 
prophetic  career  to  repay  him  for  these  sacrifices, 
and  to  lure  him  on  ?  On  the  contrary,  it  was  be- 


gun in  doubt  and  secrecy.  For  years  it  was  not 
attended  by  any  material  success.  In  proportion 
as  he  made  known  his  doctrines  and  proclaimed 
his  revelations,  they  subjected  him  to  ridicule, 
scorn,  obloquy,  and  finally  to  an  inveterate  perse' 
cution  ;  which  ruined  the  fortunes  ot  himself  and 
his  friends  ;  compelled  some  of  his  family  and  fol- 
lowers to  take  refuge  in  a  foreign  land  ;  obliged 
him  to  hide  from  sight  in  his  native  city,  and 
finally  drove  him  forth  a  fugitive  to  seek  an  un- 
certain home  elsewhere.  Why  should  he  persist 
for  years  in  a  course  of  imposture  which  was  thus 
prostrating  all  his  worldly  fortunes,  at  a  time  of 
life  when  it  was  too  late  to  build  them  up  anew  ? 

In  the  absence  of  sufficient  worldly  motives,  we 
are  compelled  to  seek  some  other  explanation  of 
his  conduct  in  this  stage  ot  his  most  enigmatical 
history  ;  and  this  we  have  endeavored  to  set  forth 
in  the  early  part  of  this  work  ;  where  we  have 
shown  his  enthusiastic  and  visionary  spirit  grad- 
ually wrought  up  by  solitude,  fasting,  prayer,  and 
meditation,  and  irritated  by  bodily  disease  into  a 
state  of  temporary  delirium,  in  which  he  fancies  he 
receives  a  revelation  from  heaven,  and  is  declared 
a  prophet  of  the  Most  High.  We  cannot  but  think 
there  was  self-deception  in  this  instance  ;  and  that 
he  believed  in  the  reality  of  the  dream  or  vision  ; 
especially  after  his  doubts  had  been  combated  by 
the  zealous  and  confiding  Cadijah,  and  the  learned 
and  crafty  Waraka. 

Once  persuaded  of  his  divine  mission  to  go  forth 
and  preach  the  faith,  all  subsequent  dreams  and 
impulses  might  be  construed  to  the  same  pur- 
port ;  all  might  be  considered  intimations  ot  the 
divine  will,  imparted  in  their  several  ways  to  him 
as  a  prophet.  We  find  him  repeatedly  subject  to 
trances  and  ecstasies  in  times  of  peculiar  agitation 
and  excitement,  when  he  may  have  fancied  him- 
self again  in  communication  with  the  Deity,  and 
these  were  almost  always  followed  by  revelations. 

The  general  tenor  of  his  conduct  up  to  the  time 
of  his  flight  from  Mecca,  is  that  of  an  enthusiast 
acting  under  a  species  of  mental  delusion  ;  deeply 
imbued  with  a  conviction  of  his  being  a  divine 
agent  for  religious  reform  ;  and  there  is  some- 
thing striking  and  sublime  in  the  luminous  path 
which  his  enthusiastic  spirit  struck  out  for  itself 
through  the  bewildering  maze  of  adverse  faiths 
and  wild  traditions  ;  the  pure  and  spiritual  wor- 
ship ot  the  one  true  God,  which  he  sought  to  sub- 
stitute for  the  blind  idolatry  of  his  childhood. 

All  the  parts  of  the  Koran  supposed  to  have 
been  promulgated  by  him  at  this  time,  incohe- 
rently as  they  have  come  down  to  us,  and  marred 
as  their  pristine  beauty  must  be  in  passing  through 
various  hands,  are  ot  a  pure  and  elevated  char- 
acter, and  breathe  poetical  if  not  religious  inspir- 
ation. They  show  that  he  had  drunk  deep  ot  the 
living  waters  of  Christianity,  and  if  he  had  failed 
to  imbibe  them  in  their  crystal  purity,  it  might  be 
because  he  had  to  drink  from  broken  cisterns,  and 
streams  troubled  and  perverted  by  those  who 
should  have  been  their  guardians.  The  faith  he 
had  hitherto  inculcated  was  purer  than  that  held 
forth  by  some  of  the  pseudo  Christians  of  Arabia, 
and  his  life,  so  far,  had  been  regulated  according 
to  its  tenets. 

Such  is  our  view  of  Mahomet  and  his  conduct 
during  the  early  part  of  his  career,  while  he  was  a 
persecuted  and  ruined  man  in  Mecca.  A  signal 
change,  however,  took  place,  as  we  have  shown  in 
the  foregoing  chapters,  after  his  flight  to  Medina, 
when,  in  place  of  the  mere  shelter  and  protection 
which  he  sought,  he  finds  himself  revered  as  a 
prophet,  implicitly  obeyed  as  a  chief,  and  at  the 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


head  of  a  powerful,  growing,  and  warlike  host  of 
votaries.  From  this  time  worldly  passions  and 
worldly  schemes  too  often  give  the  impulse  to 
his  actions,  instead  of  that  visionary  enthusiasm 
which,  even  if  mistaken,  threw  a  glow  of  piety  on 
his  earlier  deeds.  The  old  doctrines  of  forbear- 
ance, long-suffering,  and  resignation,  are  sudden- 
ly clashed  aside  ;  he  becomes  vindictive  toward 
those  who  have  hitherto  oppressed  him,  and  am- 
bitious of  extended  rule.  His  doctrines,  precepts, 
and  conduct  become  marked  by  contradictions, 
and  his  whole  course  is  irregular  and  unsteady. 
His  revelations,  henceforth,  are  so  often  opportune 
and  fitted  to  particular  emergencies,  that  we  are 
led  to  doubt  his  sincerity,  and  that  he  is  any 
longer  under  the  same  delusion  concerning  them. 
Still,  it  must  be  remembered,  as  we  have  shown, 
that  the  records  of  these  revelations  are  not  al- 
ways to  be  depended  upon.  What  he  may  have 
uttered  as  from  his  own  will  may  have  been  re- 
ported as  if  given  as  the  will  of  God.  Often,  too, 
as  we  have  already  suggested,  he  may  have  con- 
sidered his  own  impulses  as  divine  intimations  ; 
and  that,  being  an  agent  ordained  to  propagate 
the  faith,  all  impulses  and  conceptions  toward  that 
end  might  be  part  of  a  continued  and  divine  in- 
spiration. 

If  we  are  far  from  considering  Mahomet  the 
gross  and  impious  impostor  that  some  have  repre- 
sented him,  so  also  are  we  indisposed  to  give  him 
credit  for  vast  forecast,  and  for  that  deeply  con- 
certed scheme  of  universal  conquest  which  has 
been  ascribed  to  him.  He  was,  undoubtedly,  a 
man  of  great  genius  and  a  suggestive  imagination, 
but  it  appears  to  us  that  he  was,  in  a  great  degree, 
the  creature  of  impulse  and  excitement,  and  very 
much  at  the  mercy  of  circumstances.  His  schemes 
grew  out  of  his  fortunes,  and  not  his  fortunes  out 
of  his  schemes.  He  was  forty  years  of  age  before 
he  first  broached  his  doctrines.  He  suffered  year 
after  year  to  steal  away  before  he  promulgated 
them  out  of  his  own  family.  When  he  fled  from 
Mecca  thirteen  years  had  elapsed  from  the  an- 
nouncement of  his  mission,  and  from  being  a 
wealthy  merchant  he  had  sunk  to  be  a  ruined  fu- 
gitive. When  he  reached  Medina  he  had  no  idea 
of  the  worldly  power  that  awaited  him  ;  his  only 
thought  was  to  build  a  humble  mosque  where  he 
might  preach  ;  and  his  only  hope  that  he  might 
be  suffered  to  preach  with  impunity.  When 
.  power  suddenly  broke  upon  him  he  used  it  for  a 
time  in  petty  forays  and  local  feuds.  His  military 
plans  expanded  with  his  resources,  but  were  by 
no  means  masterly,  and  were  sometimes  unsuc- 
cessful. They  were  not  struck  out  with  boldness, 
nor  executed  with  decision  ;  but  were  often 
changed  in  deference  to  the  opinions  of  warlike 
men  about  him,  and  sometimes  at  the  suggestion 
of  interior  minds,  who  occasionally  led  him 
wrong.  Had  he,  indeed,  conceived  from  the  out- 
set the  idea  of  binding  up  the  scattered  and  con- 
flicting tribes  of  Arabia  into  one  nation  by  a 
brotherhood  of  faith,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying 
out  a  scheme  of  external  conquest,  he  would  have 
been  one  of  the  first  of  military  projectors  ;  but 
the  idea  of  extended  conquest  seems  to  have  been 
an  after-thought,  produced  by  success.  The 
moment  he  proclaimed  the  religion  of  the  sword, 
and  gave  the  predatory  Arabs  a  taste  of  foreign 
plunder,  that  moment  he  was  launched  in  a  ca- 
reer of  conquest,  which  carried  him  forward  with 
its  own  irresistible  impetus.  The  fanatic  zeal  with 
which  he  had  inspired  his  followers  did  more  for 
his  success  than  his  military  science  ;  their  belief 
in  his  doctrine  of  predestination  produced  vic- 


tories which  no  military  calculation  could  have  an- 
ticipated. In  his  dubious  outset,  as  a  prophet,  he 
had  been  encouraged  by  the  crafty  counsels  of  his 
scriptural  oracle  Waraka  ;  in  his  career  as  a  con- 
queror he  had  Omar,  Khaled,  and  other  fiery  spir- 
its by  his  side  to  urge  him  on,  and  to  aid  him  in 
managing  the  tremendous  power  which  he  had 
evoked  into  action.  Even  with  all  their  aid,  he 
^iad  occasionally  to  avail  himself  of  his  supernat- 
ural machinery  as  a  prophet,  and  in  so  doing  may 
have  reconciled  himself  to  the  fraud  by  consider- 
ing the  pious  end  to  be  obtained. 

His  military  triumphs  awakened  no  pride  nor 
vainglory,  as  they  would  have  done  had  they  been 
effected  for  selfish  purposes.  In  the  time  of  his 
greatest  power,  he  maintained  the  same  simplic- 
ity of  manners  and  appearance  as  in  the  days  of  his 
adversity.  So  far  from  affecting  regal  state,  he 
was  displeased  if,  on  entering  a  room,  any  un- 
usual testimonial  of  respect  were  shown  him.  If 
he  aimed  at  universal  dominion,  it  was  the  domin- 
ion of  the  faith  :  as  to  the  temporal  rule  which 
grew  up  in  his  hands,  as  he  used  it  without  osten- 
tation, so  he  took  no  step  to  perpetuate  it  in  his 
family. 

The  riches  which  poured  in  upon  him  from  trib- 
ute and  the  spoils  of  war,  were  expended  in  pro- 
moting the  victories  of  the  faith,  and  in  relieving 
the  poor  among  its  votaries  ;  insomuch  that  his 
treasury  was  often  drained  of  its  last  coin.  Omar 
Ibn  Al  Hareth  declares  that  Mahomet,  at  his 
death,  did  not  leave  a  golden  dinar  nor  a  silver 
dirhem,  a  slave  nor  a  slave  girl,  nor  anything  but 
his  gray  mule  Daldal,  his  arms,  and  the  ground 
which  he  bestowed  upon  his  wives,  his  children, 
and  the  poor.  "  Allah,"  says  an  Arabian  writer, 
"  offered  him  the  keys  of  all  the  treasures  of  the 
earth  ;  but  he  refused  to  accept  them." 

It  is  this  perfect  abnegation  of  self,  connected 
with  this  apparently  heartfelt  piety,  running 
throughout  the  various  phases  of  his  fortune, 
which  perplex  one  in  forming  a  just  estimate  of 
Mahomet's  character.  However  he  betrayed  the 
alloy  of  earth  after  he  had  worldly  power  at  his 
command,  the  early  aspirations  of  his  spirit 
continually  returned  and  bore  him  above  all 
earthly  things.  Prayer,  that  vital  duty  of  Islam- 
ism,  and  that  infallible  purifier  of  the  soul,  was 
his  constant  practice.  "Trust  in  God,"  was 
his  comfort  and  support  in  times  of  trial  and 
despondency.  On  the  clemency  of  God,  we  are 
told,  he  reposed  all  his  hopes  of  supernal  happi- 
ness. Ayesha  relates  that  on  one  occasion  she 
inquired  of  him,  "  Oh  prophet,  do  none  enter 
paradise  but  through  God's  mercy  ?"  "  None — 
none — none  !"  replied  he,  with  earnest  and  em- 
phatic repetition.  "  But  you,  oh  prophet,  will 
not  J0«  enter  excepting  through  his  compassion?" 
Then  Mahomet  put  his  hand  upon  his  head,  and 
replied  three  times,  with  great  solemnity,  "  Neither 
shall  I  enter  paradise  unless  God  cover  me  with 
his  mercy  !" 

When  he  hung  over  the  death-bed  of  his  infant 
son  Ibrahim,  resignation  to  the  will  of  God  was 
exhibited  in  his  conduct  under  this  keenest  of 
afflictions  ;  and  the  hope  of  soon  rejoining  his  child 
in  paradise  was  his  consolation.  When  he  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  grave,  he  invoked  his  spirit,  in 
the  awful  examination  of  the  tomb,  to  hold  fast  to 
the  foundations  of  the  faith,  the  unity  of  God,  and 
his  own  mission  as  a  prophet.  Even  in  his  own 
dying  hour,  when  there  could  be  no  longer  a 
worldly  motive  for  deceit,  he  still  breathed  the 
same  religious  devotion,  and  the  same  belief  in 
his  apostolic  mission.  The  last  words  that  trem- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


bled  on  his  lips  ejaculated  a  trust  of  soon  entering 
into  blissful  companionship  with  the  prophets 
who  had  gone  before  him. 

It  is  difficult  to  reconcile  such  ardent,  persevering 
piety,  with  an  incessant  system  of  blasphemous 
imposture  ;  nor  such  pure  and  elevated  and  be- 
nignant precepts  as  are  contained  in  the  Koran, 
with  a  mind  haunted  by  ignoble  passions,  and  de- 
voted to  the  grovelling  interests  of  mere  mortality  ; 


and  we  find  no  other  satisfactory  mo.de  of  solving 
the  enigma  of  his  character  and  conduct,  than  by 
supposing  that  the  ray  of  mental  hallucination 
which  flashed  upon  his  enthusiastic  spirit  during 
his  religious  ecstasies  in  the  midnight  cavern  of 
Mount  Hara,  continued  more  or  less  to  bewilder 
him  with  a  species  of  monomania  to  the  end  of  his 
career,  and  that  he  died  in  the  delusive  belief  of 
his  mission  as  a  prophet. 


APPENDIX. 


OF  THE  ISLAM  FAITH. 

IN  an  early  chapter  of  this  work  we  have  given 
such  particulars  of  the  faith  inculcated  by  Ma- 
homet as  we  deemed  important  to  the  understand- 
ing of  the  succeeding  narrative  :  we  now,  though 
at  the  expense  of  some  repetition,  subjoin  a  more 
complete  summary,  accompanied  by  a  few  obser- 
vations. 

The  religion  of  Islam,  as  we  observed  on  the 
before-mentioned  occasion,  is  divided  into  two 
parts  :  FAITH  and  PRACTICE  :— and  first  of  Faith. 
This  is  distributed  under  six  different  heads,  or 
articles,  viz.:  1st,  faith  in  God  ;  2(1,  in  his  angels  ; 
3d,  in  his  Scriptures  or  Koran  ;  4th,  in  his 
prophets  ;  5th,  in  the  resurrection  and  final  judg- 
ment ;  6th,  in  predestination.  Of  these  we  will 
briefly  treat  in  the  order  we  have  enumerated 
them. 

FAITH  IN  GOD. — Mahomet  inculcated  the  belief 
that  there  is,  was,  and  ever  will  be,  one  only  God, 
the  creator  of  all  things  ;  who  is  single,  immuta- 
ble, omniscient,  omnipotent,  all  merciiul,  and 
eternal.  The  unity  of  God  was  specifically  and 
strongly  urged,  in  contradistinction  to  the  Trinity 
of  the  Christians.  It  was  designated,  in  the  pro- 
fession of  faith,  by  raising  one  finger,  and  ex- 
claiming, "  La  illaha  il  Allah  !"  There  is  no 
God  but  God— to  which  was  added,  "  Mohamed 
Resoul  Allah  !"  Mahomet  is  the  prophet  of  God. 

FAITH  IN  ANGELS.— The  beautiful  doctrine  of 
angels,  or  ministering  spirits,  which  was  one  of 
the  most  ancient  and  universal  of  oriental  creeds, 
is  interwoven  throughout  the  Islam  system.  They 
are  represented  as  ethereal  beings,  created  from 
fire,  the  purest  of  elements,  perfect  in  form  and 
radiant  in  beauty,  but  without  sex  ;  free  from  all 
gross  or  sensual  passion,  and  all  the  appetites  and 
infirmities  of  frail  humanity  ;  and  existing  in  per- 
petual and  unfading  youth.  They  are  various  in 
their  degrees  and  duties,  and  in  their  favor  with 
the  Deity.  Some  worship  around  the  celestial 
throne  ;  others  perpetually  hymn  the  praises  of 
Allah  ;  some  are  winged  messengers  to  execute 
his  orders,  and  others  intercede  lor  the  children 
of  men. 

The  most  distinguished  of  this  heavenly  host 
are  four  archangels.  Gabriel,  the  angel  of  reve- 
lations, who  writes  down  the  divine  decrees  ; 
Michael,  the  champion,  who  fights  the  battles  of 
the  faith  ;  Azrai'l,  the  angel  of  death  ;  and  Israfil, 
who  holds  the  awful  commission  to  sound  the 
trumpet  on  the  day  of  resurrection.  There  was 
another  angel  named  Azazil,  the  same  as  Lucifer, 
once  the  most  glorious  of  the  celestial  band  ;  but 
he  became  proud  and  rebellious.  When  God  com- 
manded his  angels  to  worship  Adam,  Azazil  re- 
fused, saying,  "  Why  should  I,  whom  thou  hast 
created  of  fire,  bow  down  to  one  whom  thou  hast 
formed  of  clay  ?"  For  this  offence  he  was  ac- 


cursed and  cast  forth  from  paradise,  and  his  name 
changed  to  Eblis,  which  signifies  despair.  In  re- 
venge of  his  abasement,  he  works  all  kinds  of  mis- 
chief against  the  children  of  men,  and  inspires 
them  with  disobedience  and  impiety. 

Among  the  angels  of  inferior  rank  is  a  class 
called  Moakkibat  ;  two  of  whom  keep  watch  upon 
each  mortal,  one  on  the  right  hand,  the  other  on 
the  left,  taking  note  of  every  word  and  action.  At 
the  close  of  each  day  they  fly  up  to  heaven  with  a 
written  report,  and  are  replaced  by  two  similar 
angels  on  the  following  day.  According  to  Ma- 
hometan tradition,  every  good  action  is  recorded 
ten  times  by  the  angel  on  the  right ;  and  if  the 
mortal  commit  a  sin,  the  same  benevolent  spirit 
says  to.  the  angel  on  the  left,  "  Forbear  for  seven 
hours  to  record  it  ;  peradventure  he  may  repent 
and  pray  and  obtain  forgiveness." 

Besides  the  angelic  orders  Mahomet  inculcates 
a  belief  in  spiritual  beings  called  Gins  or  Genii, 
who,  though  likewise  created  of  fire,  partake  of 
the  appetites  and  frailties  of  the  children  of  the 
dust,  and  like  them  are  ultimately  liable  to  death. 
By  beings  of  this  nature,  which  haunt  the  soli- 
tudes of  the  desert,  Mahomet,  as  we  have  shown, 
professed  to  have  been  visited  after  his  evening 
orisons  in  the  solitary  valley  of  Al  Naklah. 

When  the  angel  Azazil  rebelled  and  fell  and  be- 
came Satan  or  Eblis,  he  still  maintained  sov- 
ereignty over  these  inferior  spirts  ;  who  are  di- 
vided by  Orientalists  into  Dives  and  Peri  :  the 
former  ferocious  and  gigantic  ;  the  latter  delicate 
and  gentle,  subsisting  on  perfumes.  It  would 
seem  as  if  the  Peri  were  all  of  the  female  sex, 
though  on  this  point  there  rests  obscurity.  From 
these  imaginary  beings  it  is  supposed  the  Euro- 
pean fairies  are  derived. 

Besides  these  there  are  other  demi-spirits  called 
Tacwins  or  Fates,  being  winged  females  of 
beautiful  forms,  who  utter  oracles  and  defend 
mortals  from  the  assaults  and  machinations  of  evil 
demons. 

There  is  vagueness  and  uncertainty  about  all 
the  attributes  given  by  Mahomet  to  these  half- 
celestial  beings  ;  his  ideas  on  the  subject  having 
been  acquired  from  various  sources.  His  whole 
system  of  intermediate  spirits  has  a  strong  though 
indistinct  infusion  of  the  creeds  and  superstitions 
of  the  Hebrews,  the  Magians,  and  the  Pagans  or 
Sabeans. 

The  third  article  of  faith  is  a  belief  in  the  Ko- 
RAN,  as  a  book  of  divine  revelation.  According 
to  the  Moslem  creed  a  book  was  treasured  up  in 
the  seventh  heaven,  and  had  existed  there  from 
all  eternity,  in  which  were  written  down  all  the 
decrees  of  God  and  all  events,  past,  present,  or  to 
come.  Transcripts  from  these  tablets  of  the  di- 
vine will  were  brought  down  to  the  lowest  heaven 
by  the  angel  Gabriel,  and  by  him  revealed  to  Ma- 
homet from  time  to  time,  in  portions  adapted  to 


74 


APPENDIX. 


some  event,  or  emergency.  Being  the  direct 
words  of  God,  they  were  all  spoken  in  the  first 
person. 

Of  the  way  in  which  these  revelations  were  ta- 
ken down  or  treasured  up  by  secretaries  and  dis- 
ciples, and  gathered  together  by  Abu  Beker  after 
the  death  of  Mahomet,  we  have  made  sufficient 
mention.  The  compilation,  for  such  in  fact  it  is, 
forms  the  Moslem  code  of  civil  and  penal  as  well 
as  religious  law,  and  is  treated  with  the  utmost 
reverence  by  all  true  believers.  A  zealous  pride 
is  shown  in  having  copies  of  it  splendidly  bound 
and  ornamented.  An  inscription  on  the  cover 
forbids  any  one  to  touch  it  who  is  unclean,  and  it 
is  considered  irreverent,  in  reading  it,  to  hold  it 
below  the  girdle.  Moslems  swear  by  it,  and  take 
omens  from  its  pages,  by  opening  it  and  reading 
the  first  text  that  meets  the  eye.  With  all  its  er- 
rors and  discrepancies,  it  we  consider  it  mainly 
as  the  work  of  one  man,  and  that  an  unlettered 
man,  it  remains  a  stupendous  monument  of  sol- 
itary legislation. 

Besides  the  Koran  or  written  law,  a  number  of 
precepts  and  apologues  which  casually  fell  from 
the  lips  of  Mahomet  were  collected  after  his  death 
from  ear-witnesses,  and  transcribed  into  a  book 
called  the  Sonna  or  Oral  Law.  This  is  held 
equally  sacred  with  the  Koran  by  a  sect  of  Mahom- 
etans thence  called  Sonnites  ;  others  reject  it  as 
apocryphal;  these  last  are  termed  Schiites.  Hos- 
tilities and  persecutions  have  occasionally  taken 
place  between  these  sects  almost  as  virulent  as 
those  which,  between  Catholics  and  Protestants, 
have  disgraced  Christianity.  The  Sonnites  are 
distinguished  by  white,  the  Schiites  by  red  tur- 
bans ;  hence  the  latter  have  received  from  their 
antagonists  the  appellation  of  Kussilbachi,  or  Red 
Heads. 

It  is  remarkable  that  circumcision,  which  is  in- 
variably practised  by  the  Mahometans,  and  forms 
a  distinguishing  rite  of  their  faith,  to  which  all 
proselytes  must  conform,  is  neither  mentioned  in 
the  Koran  nor  the  Sonna.  It  seems  to  have  been 
a  general  usage  in  Arabia,  tacitly  adopted  from 
the  Jews,  and  is  even  said  to  have  been  prevalent 
throughout  the  East  before  the  time  of  Moses. 

It  is  said  that  the  Koran  forbids  the  making  like- 
nesses of  any  living  thing,  which  has  prevented 
the  introduction  of  portrait-painting  among  Ma- 
hometans. The  passage  of  the  Koran,  however, 
which  is  thought  to  contain  the  prohibition,  seems 
merely  an  echo  of  the  second  commandment,  held 
sacred  by  Jews  and  Christians,  not  to  form  images 
or  pictures  for  worship.  One  of  Mahomet's  stand- 
ards was  a  black  eagle.  Among  the  most  distin- 
guished Moslem  ornaments  of  the  Alhambra  at 
Granada  is  a  fountain  supported  by  lions  carved 
of  stone,  and  some  Moslem  monarchs  have  had 
their  effigies  stamped  on  their  coins. 

Another  and  an  important  mistake  with  regard 
to  the  system  of  Mahomet  is  the  idea  that  it  de- 
nies souls  to  the  female  sex,  and  excludes  them 
from  paradise.  This  error  arises  from  his  omit- 
ting to  mention  their  enjoyments  in  a  future  state, 
while  he  details  those  of  his  own  sex  with  the  mi- 
nuteness of  a  voluptuary.  The  beatification  of 
virtuous  females  is  alluded  to  in  the  56th  Sura  of 
the  Koran,  and  also  in  other  places,  although 
from  the  vagueness  of  the  language  a  cursory 
reader  might  suppose  the  Houris  of  paradise  to 
be  intended. 

The  foitrth  article  of  faith  relates  to  the 
PROPHETS.  Their  number  amounts  to  two  hun- 
dred thousand,  but  only  six  are  supereminent,  as 
having  brought  new  laws  and  dispensations  upon 


earth,  each  abrogating  those  previously  received 
wherever  they  varied  or  were  contradictory. 
These  six  distinguished  prophets  were  Adam, 
Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  Jesus,  and  Mahomet. 

The  fifth  article  of  Islam  faith  is  on  the  RES- 
URRECTION and  the  FINAL  JUDGMENT.  On  this 
awful  subject  Mahomet  blended  some  of  the 
Christian  belief  with  certain  notions  current 
among  the  Arabian  Jews.  One  of  the  latter  is  the 
fearful  tribunal  of  the  Sepulchre.  When  Azrail, 
the  angel  of  death,  has  performed  his  office,  and 
the  corpse  has  been  consigned  to  the  tomb,  two 
black  angels,  Munkar  and  Nakeer,  of  dismal  and 
appalling  aspect,  present  themselves  as  inquisi- 
tors ;  during  whose  scrutiny  the  soul  is  reunited 
to  the  body.  The  defunct,  being  commanded  to 
sit  up,  is  interrogated  as  to  the  two  great  points 
of  faith,  the  unity  of  God,  and  the  divine  mission 
of  Mahomet,  and  likewise  as  to  the  deeds  done  by 
him  during  life  ;  and  his  replies  are  recorded  in 
books  against  the  day  of  judgment.  Should  they 
be  satisfactory,  his  soul  is  gently  drawn  forth 
from  his  lips,  and  his  body  left  to  its  repose  ; 
should  they  be  otherwise,  he  is  beaten  about  the 
brows  with  iron  clubs,  and  his  soul  wrenched  forth 
with  racking  tortures.  For  the  convenience  of 
this  awful  inquisition,  the  Mahometans  generally 
deposit  their  dead  in  hollow  or  vaulted  sepul- 
chres ;  merely  wrapped  in  funeral  clothes,  but 
not  placed  in  coffins. 

The  space  of  time  between  death  and  resurrec- 
tion is  called  Berzak,  or  the  Interval.  During 
this  period  the  body  rests  in  the  grave,  but  the 
soul  has  a  foretaste,  in  dreams  or  visions,  of  its 
future  doom. 

The  souls  of  prophets  are  admitted  at  once  into 
the  full  fruition  of  paradise.  Those  of  martyrs, 
including  all  who  die  in  battle,  enter  into  the 
bodies  or  crops  of  green  birds,  who  feed  on  the 
fruits  and  drink  of  the  streams  of  paradise.  Those 
of  the  great  mass  of  true  believers  are  variously 
disposed  of,  but,  according  to  the  most  received 
opinion,  they  hover,  in  a  state  of  seraphic  tran- 
quillity, near  the  tombs.  Hence  the  Moslem 
usage  of  visiting  the  graves  of  their  departed 
friends  and  relatives,  in  the  idea  that  their  souls 
are  the  gratified  witnesses  of  these  testimonials  of 
affection. 

Many  Moslems  believe  that  the  souls  of  the 
truly  faithful  assume  the  forms  of  snow-white 
birds,  and  nestle  beneath  the  throne  of  Allah  ;  a 
belief  in  accordance  with  an  ancient  superstition 
of  the  Hebrews,  that  the  souls  of  the  just  will  have 
a  place  in  heaven  under  the  throne  of  glory. 

With  regard  to  the  souls  of  infidels,  the  most 
orthodox  opinion  is  that  they  will  be  repulsed  by 
angels  both  from  heaven  and  earth,  and  cast  into 
the  cavernous  bowels  of  the  earth,  there  to  await 
in  tribulation  the  day  of  judgment. 

THE  DAY  OF  RES'URRECTION  will  be  preceded 
by  signs  and  portents  in  heaven  and  earth.  A 
total  eclipse  of  the  moon  ;  a  change  in  the  course 
of  the  sun,  rising  in  the  west  instead  of  the  east  ; 
wars  and  tumults  ;  a  universal  decay  of  faith  ;  the 
advent  of  Antichrist  :  the  issuing  forth  of  Gog  and 
Magog  to  desolate  the  world  ;  a  great  smoke,  cov- 
ering the  whole  earth — these  and  many  more 
prodigies  and  omens  affrighting  and  harassing 
the  souls  of  men,  and  producing  a  wretchedness 
of  spirit  and  a  weariness  of  life  ;  insomuch  that 
a  man  passing  by  a  grave  shall  envy  the  quiet 
dead,  and  say,  "  Would  to  God  I  were  in  thy 
place  !" 

The  last  dread  signal  of  the  awful  day  will  be 
the  blast  of  a  trumpet  by  the  archangel  Israfil.  At 


APPENDIX. 


75 


the  sound  thereof  the  earth  will  tremble  ;  castles 
and  towers  will  be  shaken  to  the  ground,  and 
mountains  levelled  with  the  plains.  The  face  of 
heaven  will  be  darkened  ;  the  firmament  will  melt 
away,  and  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  stars  will  tall 
into  the  sea.  The  ocean  will  be  either  dried  up, 
or  will  boil  and  roll  in  fiery  billows. 

At  the  sound  of  that  dreadful  trump  a  panic  will 
fall  on  the  human  race  ;  men  will  fly  from  their 
brothers,  their  parents,  and  their  wives  ;  and 
mothers,  in  frantic  terror,  abandon  the  infant  at 
the  breast.  The  savage  beasts  of  the  forests  and 
the  tame  animals  of  the  pasture  will  forget  their 
fierceness  and  their  antipathies,  and  herd  together 
in  affright. 

The  second  blast  of  the  trumpet  is  the  blast  of 
extermination.  At  that  sound,  all  creatures  in 
heaven  and  on  earth  and  in  the  waters  under  the 
earth,  angels  and  genii  and  men  and  animals,  all 
will  die  ;  excepting  the  chosen  few  especially  re- 
served by  Allah.  The  last  to  die  will  be  Azrai'l, 
the  angel  of  death  ! 

Forty  days,  or,  according  to  explanations,  forty 
years  of  continued  rain  will  follow  this  blast  of  ex- 
termination ;  then  will  be  sounded  for  the  third 
time  the  trumpet  of  the  archangel  Israfil  ;  it  is  the 
call  to  judgment  !  At  the  sound  of  this  blast  the 
whole  space  between  heaven  and  earth  will  be 
filled  with  the  souls  of  the  dead  flying  in  quest  of 
their  respective  bodies.  Then  the  earth  will 
open  ;  and  there  will  be  a  rattling  of  dry  bones, 
and  a  gathering  together  of  scattered  limbs  ;  the 
very  hairs  will  congregate  together,  and  the  whole 
body  be  reunited,  and  the  soul  will  re-enter  it,  and 
the  dead  will  rise  from  mutilation,  perfect  in  every 
part,  and  naked  as  when  born.  The  infidels  will 
grovel  with  their  faces  on  the  earth,  but  the  faith- 
ful will  walk  erect  ;  as  to  the  truly  pious,  they  will 
be  borne  aloft  on  winged  camels,  white  as  milk, 
with  saddles  of  fine  gold. 

Every  human  being  will  then  be  put  upon  his  trial 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  has  employed  his 
faculties,  and  the  good  and  evil  actions  of  his  life. 
A  mighty  balance  will  be  poised  by  the  angel 
Gabriel  ;  in  one  of  the  scales,  termed  Light,  will 
be  placed  his  good  actions  ;  in  the  other,  termed 
Darkness,  his  evil  deeds.  An  atom  or  a  grain  of 
mustard-seed  will  suffice  to  turn  this  balance  ; 
and  the  nature  of  the  sentence  will  depend  on  the 
preponderance  of  either  scale.  At  that  moment 
retribution  will  be  exacted  for  every  wrong  and  in- 
jury. He  who  has  wronged  a  fellow-mortal  will 
have  to  repay  him  with  a  portion  of  his  own  good 
deeds,  or,  if  he  have  none  to  boast  of,  will  have 
to  take  upon  himself  a  proportionate  weight  of 
the  other's  sins. 

The  trial  of  the  balance  will  be  succeeded  by 
the  ordeal  of  the  bridge.  The  whole  assembled 
multitude  will  have  to  follow  Mahomet  across  the 
bridge  Al  Serat,  as  fine  as  the  edge  of  a  scimetar, 
which  crosses  the  gulf  of  Jehennam  or  Hell.  Infi- 
dels and  sinful  Moslems  will  grope  along  it  dark- 
ling and  fall  into  the  abyss  ;  but  the  faithful,  aid- 
ed by  a  beaming  light,  will  cross  with  the  swift- 
ness of  birds  and  enter  the  realms  of  paradise. 
The  idea  of  this  bridge,  and  of  the  dreary  realms 
of  Jehennam,  is  supposed  to  have  been  derived 
partly  from  the  Jews,  but  chiefly  from  the  Magi- 
ans. 

Jehennam  is  a  region  fraught  with  all  kinds 
of  horrors.  The  very  trees  have  writhing  serpents 
for  branches,  bearing  for  fruit  the  heads  of  de- 
mons. We  forbear  to  dwell  upon  the  particulars 
of  this  dismal  abode,  which  are  given  with  pain- 
ful and  often  disgusting  minuteness.  It  is  de- 


scribed as  consisting  of  seven  stages,  one  below 
the  other,  and  varying  in  the  nature  and  intensity 
of  torment.  The  first  stage  is  allotted  to  Atheists, 
who  deny  creator  and  creation,  and  believe  the 
world  to  be  eternal.  The  second  for  Manicheans 
and  others  that  admit  two  divine  principles  ;  and 
for  the  Arabian  idolaters  of  the  era  of  Mahomet. 
The  third  is  for  the  Brahmins  of  India  ;  the  fourth 
for  the  Jews  ;  the  filth  for  Christians  ;  the  sixth 
for  the  Magians  orGhebersof  Persia  ;  the  seventh 
for  hypocrites,  who  profess  without  believing  in 
religion. 

The  fierce  angel  Thabeck,  that  13  to  say,  the 
executioner,  presides  over  this  region  of  terror. 

We  must  observe  that  the  general  nature  of  Je- 
hennam, and  the  distribution  of  its  punishments, 
have  given  rise  to  various  commentaries  and  ex- 
positions among  the  Moslem  doctors.  It  is  main- 
tained by  some,  and  it  is  a  popular  doctrine,  that 
none  of  the  believers  in  Allah  and  his  prophets 
will  be  condemned  to  eternal  punishment.  Their 
sins  will  be  expiated  by  proportionate  periods  of 
suffering,  varying  from  nine  hundred  to  nine 
thousand  years. 

Some  of  the  most  humane  among  the  Doctors 
contend  against  eternity  of  punishment  to  any 
class  of  sinners,  saying  that,  as  God  is  all  merci- 
ful, even  infidels  will  eventually  be  pardoned. 
Those  who  have  an  intercessor,  as  the  Christians 
have  in  Jesus  Christ,  will  be  first  redeemed.  The 
liberality  of  these  worthy  commentators,  how- 
ever, does  not  extend  so  far  as  to  admit  them  into 
paradise  among  true  believers  ;  but  concludes 
that,  after  long  punishment,  they  will  be  relieved 
from  their  torments  by  annihilation. 

Between  Jehennam  and  paradise  is  Al  Araf  or 
the  Partition,  a  region  destitute  of  peace  or  pleas- 
ure, destined  for  the  reception  of  infants,  lunatics, 
idiots,  and  such  other  beings  as  have  done  neither 
good  nor  evil.  For  such  too,  whose  good  and 
evil  deeds  balance  each  other  ;  though  these  may 
be  admitted  tq  paradise  through  the  intercession 
of  Mahomet,  on  performing  an  act  of  adoration, 
to  turn  the  scales  in  their  favor.  It  is  said  that 
the  tenants  of  this  region  can  converse  with  their 
neighbors  on  either  hand,  the  blessed  and  the 
condemned  ;  and  that  Al  Araf  appears  a  paradise 
to  those  in  hell  and  a  hell  to  those  in  paradise. 

AL  JANET,  OR  THE  GARDEN. — When  the  true 
believer  has  passed  through  all  his  trials,  and  ex- 
piated all  his  sins,  he  refreshes  himself  at  the 
Pool  of  the  Prophet.  This  is  a  lake  of  fragrant 
water,  a  month's  journey  in  circuit,  fed  by  the 
river  Al  Cauther,  which  flows  from  paradise.  The 
water  of  this  lake  is  sweet  as  honey,  cold  as  snow, 
and  clear  as  crystal  ;  he  who  once  tastes  of  it  will 
never  more  be  tormented  by  thirst  ;  a  blessing 
dwelt  upon  with  peculiar  zest  by  Arabian  writers, 
accustomed  to  the  parching  thirst  of  the  desert. 

After  the  true  believer  has  drunk  of  this  water  of 
life,  the  gate  of  paradise  is  opened  to  him  by  the 
angel  Rushvan.  The  same  prolixity  and  minute- 
ness which  occur  in  the  description  of  Jehennam, 
are  lavished  on  the  delights  of  paradise,  until  the 
imagination  is  dazzled  and  confused  by  the  de- 
tails. The  soil  is  of  the  finest  wheaten  flour,  fra- 
grant with  perfumes,  and  strewed  with  pearls  and 
hyacinths  instead  of  sands  and  pebbles. 

Some  of  the  streams  are  of  crystal  purity,  run- 
ning between  green  banks  enamelled  with  flowers  ; 
others  are  of  milk,  of  wine  and  honey  ;  flowing 
over  beds  of  musk,  between  margins  of  camphire, 
covered  with  moss  and  saffron  !  The  air  is  sweeter 
than  the  spicy  gales  of  Sabea,  and  cooled  by 
sparkling  fountains.  Here,  too,  is  Taba,  the 


76 


APPENDIX. 


wonderful  tree  of  life,  so  large  that  a  fleet  horse 
would  need  a  hundred  years  to  cross  its  shade. 
The  boughs  are  laden  with  every  variety  of  de- 
licious fruit,  and  bend  to  the  hand  of  those  who 
seek  to  gather. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  blissful  garden  are 
clothed  in  raiment  sparkling  with  jewels  ;  they 
wear  crowns  of  gold  enriched  with  pearls  and 
diamonds,  and  dwell  in  sumptuous  palaces  or 
silken  pavilions,  reclining  on  voluptuous  couches. 
Here  every  believer  will  have  hundreds  of  attend- 
ants, bearing  dishes  and  goblets  of  gold,  to  serve 
him  with  every  variety  of  exquisite  viand  and  bev- 
erage. He  will  eat  without  satiety,  and  drink 
without  inebriation  ;  the  last  morsel  and  the  last 
drop  will  be  equally  relished  with  the  first  ;  he 
will  feel  no  repletion,  and  need  no  evacuation. 

The  air  will  resound  with  the  melodious  voice 
of  Israfil,  and  the  songs  of  the  daughters  of  para- 
dise ;  the  very  rustling  of  the  trees  will  produce 
ravishing  harmony,  while  myriads  of  bells,  hang- 
ing among  their  branches,  will  be  put  in  dulcet 
motion  by  airs  from  the  throne  of  Allah. 

Above' all,  the  faithful  will  be  blessed  with 
female  society  to  the  full  extent  even  of  oriental 
imaginings.  Besides  the  wives  he  had  on  earth, 
who  will  rejoin  him  in  all  their  pristine  charms, 
he  will  be  attended  by  the  Hur  al  Oyun,  or 
Houris,  so  called  from  their  large  black  eyes  ;  re- 
splendent beings,  free  from  every  human  defect 
or  frailty  ;  perpetually  retaining  their  youth  and 
beauty,  and  renewing  their  virginity.  Seventy- 
two  of  these  are  allotted  to  every  believer.  The 
intercourse  with  them  will  be  fruitful  or  not  ac- 
cording to  their  wish,  and  the  offspring  will  grow 
within  an  hour  to  the  same  stature  with  the  par- 
ents. 

That  the  true  believer  may  be  fully  competent 
to  the  enjoyments  of  this  blisslul  region,  he 
will  rise  from  the  grave  in  the  prime  of  man- 
hood, at  the  age  of  thirty,  ot  the  stature  of 
Adam,  which  was  thirty  cubits  ;  with  all  his  fac- 
ulties improved  to  a  state  of  preternatural  perfec- 
tion with  the  abilities  of  a  hundred  men,  and  with 
desires  and  appetites  quickened  rather  than  sated 
by  enjoyment. 

These  and  similar  delights  are  promised  to  the 
meanest  of  the  faithful  ;  there  are  gradations  of 
enjoyment,  however,  as  of  merit ;  but,  as  to  tKose 
prepared  for  the  most  deserving,  Mahomet  found 
the  powers  of  description  exhausted,  and  was  fain 
to  make  use  of  the  text  from  Scripture,  that  they 
should  be  such  things  "  as  eye  hath  not  seen,  ear 
hath  not  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man  to  conceive." 

The  expounders  of  the  Mahometan  law  differ 
in  their  opinions  as  to  the  whole  meaning  of  this 
system  of  rewards  and  punishments.  One  set 
understanding  everything  in  a  figurative,  the  other 
in  a  literal  sense.  The  former  insist  that  the 
prophet  spake  in  parable,  in  a  manner  suited 
to  the  coarse  perceptions  and  sensual  natures  of 
his  hearers  ;  and  maintain  that  the  joys  ot  heaven 
will  be  mental  as  well  as  corporeal  ;  the  resurrec- 
tion being  of  both  soul  and  body.  The  soul  will 
revel  in  a  supernatural  development  and  employ- 
ment of  all  its  faculties  ;  in  a  knowledge  of  all  the 
arcana  of  nature  ;  the  full  revelation  of  every- 
thing past,  present,  and  to  come.  Tne  enjoy- 
ments of  the  body  will  be  equally  suited  to  its  va- 
rious senses,  and  perfected  to  a  supernatural  de- 
gree. 

The  same  expounders  regard  the  description  of 
Jehennam  as  equally  figurative  ;  the  torments  of 
the  soul  consisting  in  the  anguish  of  perpetual 


remorse  for  past  crimes,  and  deep  and  ever-in- 
creasing despair  for  the  loss  of  heaven  ;  those  of 
the  body  in  excruciating  and  never-ending  pain. 

The  other  doctors,  who  construe  everything  in 
a  literal  sense,  are  considered  the  most  orthodox, 
and  their  sect  is  beyond  measure  the  most  numer- 
ous. Most  of  the  particulars  in  the  system  of 
rewards  and  punishments,  as  has  been  already 
observed,  have  close  affinity  to  the  superstitions 
of  the  Magians  and  the  Jewish  Rabbins.  The 
Houri,  or  black-eyed  nymphs,  who  figure  so  con- 
spicuously in  the  Moslem's  paradise,  are  said  to 
be  the  same  as  the  Huram  Behest  of  the  Persian 
Magi,  and  Mahomet  is  accused  by  Christian  in- 
vestigators of  having  purloined  much  of  his  de- 
scription of  heaven  from  the  account  of  the  New 
Jerusalem  in  the  Apocalypse  ;  with  such  variation 
as  is  used  by  knavish  jewellers,  when  they  appro- 
priate stolen  jewels  to  their  own  use. 

The  sixth  and  last  article  of  the  Islam  faith  is 
PREDESTINATION,  and  on  this  Mahomet  evidently 
reposed  his  chief  dependence  for  the  success  of 
his  military  enterprises.  He  inculcated  that  every 
event  had  been  predetermined  by  God,  and  written 
down  in  the  eternal  tablet  previous  to  the  creation 
of  the  world.  That  the  destiny  of  every  individ- 
ual, and  the  hour  of  his  death,  were  irrevocably 
fixed,  and  could  neither  be  varied  nor  evaded  by 
any  effort  of  human  sagacity  or  foresight.  Under 
this  persuasion,  the  Moslems  engaged  in  battle 
without  risk  ;  and,  as  death  in  battle  was  equiva- 
lent to  martyrdom,  and  entitled  them  to  an  imme- 
diate admission  into  paradise,  they  had  in  either 
alternative,  death  or  victor)',  a  certainty  of  gain. 

This  doctrine,  according  to  which  men  by  their 
own  free  will  can  neither  avoid  sin  nor  avert  pun- 
ishment, is  considered  by  many  Mussulmen  as  de- 
rogatory to  the  justice  and  clemency  of  God  ;  and 
several  sects  have  sprung  up,  who  endeavor  to 
soften  and  explain  away  this  perplexing  dogma  ; 
but  the  number  of  these  doubters  is  small,  and  they 
are  not  considered  orthodox. 

The  doctrine  of  Predestination  was  one  of  those 
timely  revelations  to  Mahomet,  that  were  almost 
miraculous  from  their  seasonable  occurrence.  It 
took  place  immediately  after  the  disastrous  battle 
of  Ohod,  in  which  many  of  his  followers,  and 
among  them  his  uncle  Hamza,  were  slain.  Then 
it  was.  in  a  moment  of  gloom  and  despondency, 
when  his  followers  around  him  were  disheartened, 
that  he  promulgated  this  law,  telling  them  that 
every  man  must  die  at  the  appointed  hour, 
whether  in  bed  or  in  the  field  of  battle.  He  de- 
clared, moreover,  that  the  angel  Gabriel  had 
announced  to  him  the  reception  of  Hamza  into  the 
seventh  heaven,  with  the  title  of  Lion  of  God  and 
of  the  Prophet.  He  added,  as  he  contemplated 
the  dead  bodies,  "  I  am  witness  for  these,  and  for 
all  who  have  been  slain  for  the  cause  of  God,  that 
they  shall  appear  in  glory  at  the  resurrection,  with 
their  wounds  brilliant  as  vermilion  and  odoriferous 
as  musk." 

What  doctrine  could  have  been  devised  more 
calculated  to  hurry  forward,  in  a  wild  career  of 
conquest,  a  set  of  ignorant  and  predatory  soldiers, 
than  this  assurance  of  booty  if  they  survived,  and 
paradise  it  they  fell  ?*  It  rendered  almost  irresist- 
ible the  Moslem  arms  ;  but  it  likewise  contained 
the  poison  that  was  to  destroy  their  dominion. 
From  the  moment  the  successors  of  the  prophet 
ceased  to  be  aggressive  and  conquerors,  and 


*  The  reader  may  recollect  that  a  belief  in  predesti- 
nation, or  destiny,  was  encouraged  by  Napoleon,  and 
had  much  influence  on  his  troops. 


APPENDIX. 


sheathed  the  sword  definitively,  the  doctrine  of 
predestination  began  its  baneful  work.  Enervated 
by  peace,  and  the  sensuality  permitted  by  the  Ko- 
ran— which  so  distinctly  separates  its  doctrines 
from  the  pure  and  self-denying  religion  of  the 
Messiah — the  Moslem  regarded  every  reverse  as 
preordained  by  Allah,  and  inevitable  ;  to  be  borne 
stoically,  since  human  exertion  and  foresight  were 
vain.  "  Help  thyself  and  God  will  help  thee," 
was  a  precept  never  in  force  with  the  followers  of 
Mahomet,  and  its  reverse  has  been  their  fate.  The 
crescent  has  waned  before  the  cross,  and  exists  in 
Europe,  where  it  was  once  so  mighty,  only  by  the 
suffrage,  or  rather  the  jealousy,  of  the  great  Chris- 
tian powers,  probably  ere  long  to  furnish  another 
illustration,  that  "  they  that  take  the  sword  shall 
perish  with  the  sword." 

RELIGIOUS   PRACTICE. 

The  articles  of  religious  practice  are  fourfold  : 
Prayer,  including  ablution,  Alms,  Fasting,  Pil- 
grimage. 

AULUTION  is  enjoined  as  preparative  to  PRAYER, 
purity  of  body  being  considered  emblematical  of 
purity  of  soul.  It  is  prescribed  in  the  Koran  with 
curious  precision.  The  face,  arms,  elbows,  feet, 
and  a  fourth  part  of  the  head,  to  be  washed  once  ; 
the  hands,  mouth,  and  nostrils,  three  times  ;  the 
ears  to  be  moistened  with  the  residue  of  the 
water  used  for  the  head,  and  the  teeth  to  be  clean- 
ed with  a  brush.  The  ablution  "to  commence  on 
the  right  and  terminate  on  the  left  ;  in  washing 
the  hands  and  feet  to  begin  with  the  ringers  and 
toes  ;  where  water  is  not  to  be  had,  fine  sand 
may  be  used. 

PRAYER  is  to  be  performed  five  times  every 
clay,  viz.:  the  fitst  in  the  morning,  before  sunrise  ; 
the  second  at  noon  ;  the  third  in  the  afternoon, 
before  sunset ;  the  fourth  in  the  evening,  between 
sunset  and  dark  ;  the  fifth  between  twilight  and 
the  first  watch,  being  the  vesper  prayer.  A  sixth 
prayer  is  volunteered  by  many  between  the  first 
watch  of  the  night  and  the  dawn  of  day.  These 
prayers  are  but  repetitions  of  the  same  laudatory 
ejaculation,  "  God  is  great  !  God  is  powerful  ! 
God  is  all  powerful  !"  and  are  counted  by  the  scru- 
pulous upon  a  string  of  beads.  They  may  be  per- 
formed at  the  mosque,  or  in  any  clean  place. 
During  prayer  the  eyes  are  turned  to  the  Kebla,  or 
point  of  the  heaven  in  the  direction  of  Mecca  ; 
\\hich  is  indicated  in  every  mosque  by  a  niche 
called  Al  Mehrab,  and  externally  by  the  position  of 
the  minarets  and  doors.  Even  the  postures  to  be 
observed  in  prayer  are  prescribed,  and  the  most 
solemn  act  of  adoration  is  by  bowing  the  forehead 
to  the  ground.  Females  in  praying  are  not  to 
stretch  forth  their  arms,  but  to  fold  them  on  their 
bosoms.  They  are  not  to  make  as  profound  in- 
flections as  the  men.  They  are  to  pray  in  a  low 
and  gentle  tone  of  voice.  They  are  not  permitted 
to  accompany  the  men  to  the  mosque,  lest  the 
minds  of  the  worshippers  should  be  drawn  from 
their  devotions.  In  addressing  themselves  to 
God,  the  faithful  are  enjoined  to  do  so  with  hu- 
mility ;  putting  aside  costly  ornaments  and  sump- 
tuous apparel. 

Many  of  the  Mahometan  observances  with  re- 
spect to  prayer  were  similar  to  those  previously 
maintained  by  the  Sabeans  ;  others  agreed  with 
the  ceremonials  prescribed  by  the  Jewish  Rab- 
bins. Such  were  the  postures,  inflections  and 
prostrations,  and  the  turning  of  the  face  toward 
the  Kebla,  which,  however,  with  the  Jews,  was  in 
the  direction  of  the  temple  at  Jerusalem. 


Prayer,  with  the  Moslem,  is  a  daily  exercise  ; 
but  on  Friday  there  is  a  sermon  in  the  mosque. 
This  day  was  generally  held  sacred  among  orien- 
tal nations  as  the  day  on  which  man  was  created. 
The  Sabean  idolaters  consecrated  it  to  Astarte  or 
Venus,  the  most  beautiful  of  the  planets  and 
brightest  of  the  stars.  Mahomet  adopted  it  as 
his  Sabbath,  partly  perhaps  from  early  habitude, 
but  chiefly  to  vary  from  the  Saturday  of  the  Jews 
and  Sunday  of  the  Christians. 

The  second  article  of  religious  practice  is  CHAR- 
ITY, or  the  giving  of  alms.  There  are  two  kinds 
of  alms,  viz.:  those  prescribed  by  law,  called 
Zacat,  like  tithes  in  the  Christian  church,  to  be 
made  in  specified  proportions,  whether  in  money, 
wares,  cattle,  corn,  or  fruit  ;  and  voluntary  gifts 
termed  Saclakat,  made  at  the  discretion  of  the 
giver.  Every  Moslem  is  enjoined,  in  one  way  or 
the  other,  to  dispense  a  tenth  of  his  revenue  in 
relief  of  the  indigent  and  distressed. 

The  third  article  of  practice  is  FASTING,  also 
supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  the  Jews. 
In  each  year  for  thirty  days,  during  the  month 
Rhamadan,  the  true  believer  is  to  abstain  rigor- 
ously, from  the  rising  to  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
from  meat  and  drink,  baths,  perfumes,  the  inter- 
course of  the  sexes,  and  all  other  gratifications 
and  delights  of  the  senses.  This  is  considered  a 
great  triumph  of  self-denial,  mortifying  and  subdu- 
ing the  several  appetites,  and  purifying  both  body 
and  soul.  Of  these  three  articles  of  practice  the 
Prince  Abdalasis  used  to  say,  "  Prayer  leads  us 
half  way  to  God  ;  fasting  conveys  us  to  his  thresh- 
old, but  alms  conduct  us  into  his  presence." 

PILGRIMAGE  is  the  fourth  grand  practical  duty 
enjoined  upon  Moslems.  Every  true  believer  is 
bound  to  make  one  pilgrimage  to  Mecca  in  the 
course  of  his  life,  either  personally  or  by  proxy. 
In  the  latter  case  his  name  must  be  mentioned  in 
every  prayer  offered  up  by  his  substitute. 

Pilgrimage  is  incumbent  only  on  free  persons  of 
mature  age,  sound  intellect,  and  who  have  health 
and  wealth  enough  to  bear  the  fatigues  and  ex- 
penses of  the  journey.  The  pilgrim  before  his  de- 
parture from  home  arranges  all  his  affairs,  public 
and  domestic,  as  if  preparing  for  his  death. 

On  the  appointed  day,  which  is  either  Tuesday, 
Thursday,  or  Saturday,  as  being  propitious  for  the 
purpose,  he  assembles  his  wives,  children,  and 
all  his  household,  and  devoutly  commends  them 
and  all  his  concerns  to  the  care  of  God  during 
his  holy  enterprise.  Then  passing  one  end  of  his 
turban  beneath  his  chin  to  the  opposite  side  of  his 
head,  like  the  attire  of  a  nun,  and  grasping  a 
stout  staff  of  bitter  almonds,  he  takes  leave  of  his 
household,  and  sallies  from  the  apartment,  ex- 
claiming, "  In  the  name  of  God  I  undertake  this 
holy  work,  confiding  in  his  protection.  I  believe 
in  him,  and  place  in  his  hands  my  actions  and  my 
life." 

On  leaving  the  portal  he  turns  face  toward  the 
Kebla,  repeats  certain  passages  of  the  Koran,  and 
adds,  "  I  turn  my  face  to  the  Holy  Caaba,  the 
throne  of  God,  to  accomplish  the  pilgrimage  com- 
manded by  his  law,  and  which  shall  draw  me 
near  to  him." 

He  finally  puts  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  mounts 
into  the  saddle,  commends  himself  again  to  God, 
almighty,  all-wise,  all-merciful,  and  sets  forth  on 
his  pilgrimage.  The  time  of  departure  is  always 
calculated  so  as  to  insure  an  arrival  at  Mecca  at 
the  beginning  of  the  pilgrim  month  Dhu'l-hajji. 

Three  laws  are  to  be  observed  throughout  this 
pious  journey. 

I.  To  commence  no  quarrel. 


78 


APPENDIX. 


2.  To  hear  meekly  all  harshness  and  reviling. 

3.  To  promote  peace  and  good-will  among  his 
companions  in  the  caravan. 

He  is,  moreover,  to  he  liberal  in  his  donations 
and  charities  throughout  his  pilgrimage. 

When  arrived  at  some  place  in  the  vicinity  of 
Mecca,  he  allows  his  hair  and  nails  to  grow,  strips 
himself  to  the  skin,  and  assumes  the  Ihram  or 
pilgrim  garb,  consisting  of  two  scarfs,  without 
seams  or  decorations,  and  of  any  stuff  excepting 
silk.  One  of  these  is  folded  round  the  loins,  the 
other  thrown  over  the.  neck  and  shoulders,  leaving 
the  right  arm  free.  The  head  is  uncovered,  but 
the  aged  and  infirm  are  permitted  to  fold  some- 
thing round  it  in  consideration  of  alms  given  to 
the  poor.  Umbrellas  are  allowed  as  a  protection 
against  the  sun,  and  indigent  pilgrims  supply 
their  place  by  a  rag  on  the  end  of  a  staff. 

The  instep  must  he  bare  ;  and  peculiar  sandals 
are  provided  for  the  purpose,  or  a  piece  of  the  up- 
per leather  of  the  shoe  is  cut  out.  The  pilgrim, 
when  thus  attired,  is  termed  Al  Mohrem. 

The  Ihrarn  of  females  is  an  ample  cloak  and 
veil,  enveloping  the  whole  person,  so  that,  in 
strictness,  the  wrists,  the  ankles,  and  even  the 
eyes  should  be  concealed. 

When  once  assumed,  the  Ihram  must  be  worn 
until  the  pilgrimage  is  completed,  however  unsuit- 
ed  it  may  be  to  the  season  or  the  weather.  While 
wearing  it,  the  pilgrim  must  abstain  from  all  li- 
centiousness of  language  ;  all  sensual  intercourse  ; 
all  quarrels  and  acts  of  violence  ;  he  must  not 
even  take  the  life  of  an  insect  that  infests  him  ; 
though  an  exception  is  made  in  regard  to  biting 
dogs,  to  scorpions,  and  birds  of  prey. 

On  arriving  at  Mecca,  he  leaves  his  baggage  in 
some  shop,  and,  without  attention  to  any  worldly 
concern,  repairs  straightway  to  the  Caaba,  con- 
ducted by  one  of  the  Metowels  or  guides,  who  are 
always  at  hand  to  offer  their  services  to  pilgrims. 

Entering  the  mosque  by  the  Bab  el  Salam,  or 
Gate  of  Salutation,  he  makes  four  prostrations, 
and  repeats  certain  prayers  as  he  passes  under 
the  arch.  Approaching  the  Caaba,  he  makes  four 
prostrations  opposite  the  Black  Stone,  which  he 
then  kisses  ;  or,  if  prevented  by  the  throng,  he 
touches  it  with  his  right  hand,  and  kisses  that. 
Departing  from  the  Black  Stone,  and  keeping  the 
building  on  his  left  hand,  he  makes  the  seven  cir- 
cuits, the  three  first  quickly,  the  latter  four  with 
slow  and  solemn  pace.  Certain  prayers  are  re- 
peated in  a  low  voice,  and  the  Black  Stone  kissed, 
or  touched,  at  the  end  of  every  circuit. 

The  Towaf,  or  procession,  round  the  Caaba  was 
an  ancient  ceremony,  observed  long  before  the 
time  of  Mahomet,  and  performed  by  both  sexes 
entirely  naked.  Mahomet  prohibited  this  expos- 
ure, and  prescribed  the  Ihram,  or  pilgrim  dress. 
The  female  Hajji  walk  the  Towaf  generally  during 
the  night  ;  though  occasionally  they  perform  it 
mingled  with  the  men  in  the  daytime.* 

The  seven  circuits  being  completed,  the  pilgrim 
presses  his  breast  against  the  wall  between  the 
Black  Stone  and  the  door  of  the  Caaba,  and  with 
outstretched  arms  prays  for  pardon  of  his  sins. 

He  then  repairs  to  the  Makam,  or  station  of 
Abraham,  makes  four  prostrations,  prays  for  the 
intermediation  of  the  Patriarch,  and  thence  to  the 
well  Zem  Zem,  and  drinks  as  much  of  the  water 
as  he  can  swallow. 

During  all  this  ceremonial  the  uninstructed 
Hajji  has  his  guide  or  Metowef  close  at  his  heels, 

*  Burckhardt's  Travels  in  Arabia,  vol.  i.  p,  260. 
Lond.  edit.,  1829. 


muttering  prayers  for  him  to  repeat.  He  is  now 
conducted  out  of  the  mosque  by  the  gate  l!ab  el 
Zafa  to  a  slight  ascent  about  hfty  paces  distant, 
called  the  Hill  of  Zafa,  when,  after  uttering  a 
prayer  with  uplifted  hands,  he  commences  the 
holy  promenade,  called  the  Saa  or  Say.  This  lies 
through  a  straight  and  level  street,  called  Al 
Mesaa,  six  hundred  paces  in  length,  lined  with 
shops  like  a  bazaar,  and  terminating  at  a  place 
called  Merowa.  The  walk  of  the  Say  is  in  com- 
memoration of  the  wandering  of  Hagar  over  the 
same  ground,  in  search  of  water  for  her  child  Ish- 
mael.  The  pilgrim,  therefore,  walks  at  times 
slowly,  with  an  inquisitive  air,  then  runs  in  a  cer- 
tain place,  and  again  walks  gravely,  stopping  at 
times  and  looking  anxiously  back. 

Having  repeated  the  walk  up  and  down  this 
street  seven  times,  the  Hajji  enters  a  baber's  shop 
at  Merowa  ;  his  head  is  shaved,  his  nails  pared, 
the  barber  muttering  prayers  and  the  pilgrim  re- 
peating them  all  the  time.  The  paring  and  shear- 
ing are  then  buried  in  consecrated  ground,  and 
the  most  essential  duties  of  the  pilgrimage  are  con- 
sidered as  fulfilled.* 

On  the  ninth  of  the  month  Al  Dhu'l-hajji,  the 
pilgrims  make  a  hurried  and  tumultuous  visit  to 
Molint  Arafat,  where  they  remain  until  sunset  ; 
then  pass  the  night  in  prayer  at  an  Oratory,  called 
Mozdalifa,  and  before  sunrise  next  morning  repair 
to  the  valley  of  Mena,  where  they  throw  seven 
stones  at  each  of  three  pillars,  in  imitation  of 
Abraham,  and  some  say  also  of  Adam,  who  drove 
away  the  devil  from  this  spot  with  stones,  when 
disturbed  by  him  in  his  devotions. 

Such  are  the  main  ceremonies  which  form  this 
great  Moslem  rite  of  pilgrimage  ;  but,  before  con- 
cluding this  sketch  of  Islam  faith,  and  closing  this 
legendary  memoir  of  its  founder,  we  cannot  for- 
bear to  notice  one  of  his  innovations,  which  has 
entailed  perplexity  on  all  his  followers,  and  par- 
ticular inconvenience  on  pious  pilgrims. 

The  Arabian  year  consists  of  twelve  lunar 
months,  containing  alternately  thirty  and  twenty- 
nine  days,  and  making  three  hundred  and  fifty- 
four  in  the  whole,  so  that  eleven  days  were  lost  in 
every  solar  year.  To  make  up  the  deficiency,  a 
thirteenth  or  wandering  month  was  added  to 
every  third  year,  previous  to  the  era  of  Mahomet, 
to  the  same  effect  as  one  day  is  added  in  the 
Christian  calendar  to  every  leap-year.  Mahomet, 
who  was  uneducated  and  ignorant  of  astronomy, 
retrenched  this  thirteenth  or  intercalary  month,  as 
contrary  to  the  divine  order  of  revolutions  of  the 
moon,  and  reformed  the  calendar  by  a  divine  reve- 
lation during  his  last  pilgrimage.  This  is  record- 
ed in  the  ninth  sura  or  chapter  of  the  Koran,  to 
the  following  effect  : 

"  For  the  number  of  months  is  twelve,  as  was 
ordained  by  Allah,  and  recorded  on  the  eternal 
tablesf  on  the  clay  wherein  he  created  the  heaven 
and  the  earth. 


*  The  greater  part  of  the  particulars  concerning 
Mecca  and  Medina,  and  their  respective  pilgrimages, 
are  gathered  from  the  writings  of  that  accurate  and  in- 
defatigable traveller,  Burckhardt,  who,  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  pilgrim,  visited  these  shrines,  and  com- 
plied with  all  the  forms  and  ceremonials.  His  works 
throw  great  light  upon  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  East,  and  practice  of  the  Mahometan  faith. 

The  facts  related  by  Burckhardt  have  been  collated 
with  those  of  other  travellers  and  writers,  and  many 
particulars  have  been  interwoven  with  them  from  other 
sources. 

f  The  eternal  tables  or  tablet  was  of  white  pearl, 
extended  from  east  to  west  and  from  earth  to  heaven. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


"  Transfer  not  a  sacred  month  unto  another 
month,  for  verily  it  is  an  innovation  of  the  infi- 
dels." 

The  number  of  days  thus  lost  amount  in  33  years 
to  363.  It  becomes  necessary,  therefore,  to  add  an 
intercalary  year  at  the  end  ol  each  thirty-third  year 
to  reduce  the  Mahometan  into  the  Christian  era. 

One  great  inconvenience  arising  from  this  reve- 
lation of  the  prophet  is,  that  the  Moslem  months 
do  not  indicate  the  season,  as  they  commence 
earlier  by  eleven  days  every  year.  This  at  certain 
epochs  is  a  sore  grievance  to  the  votaries  to 


Mecca,  as  the  great  pilgrim  month  Dhu'l-hajji, 
during  which  they  are  compelled  to  wear  the 
Ihram,  or  hall-naked  pilgrim  garb,  runs  the  round 
of  the  seasons,  occurring  at  one  time  in  the  depth 
of  winter,  at  another  in  the  fervid  heat  of  summer. 
Thus  Mahomet,  though  according  to  legend- 
ary history  he  could  order  the  moon  from  the 
firmament  and  make  her  revolve  about  the  sacred 
house,  could  not  control  her  monthly  revolutions  ; 
and  found  that  the  science  of  numbers  is  superior 
even  to  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  sets  miracles  at 
defiance. 


PART    II. 


PREFACE. 

IT  is  the  intention  of  the  author  in  the  follow- 
ing pages  to  trace  the  progress  of  the  Moslem 
dominion  from  the  death  of  Mahomet,  in  A.D. 
622,  to  the  invasion  of  Spain,  in  A.D.  710.  In 
this  period,  which  did  not  occupy  fourscore  and 
ten  years,  and  passed  within  the  lifetime  of  many 
an  aged  Arab,  the  Moslems  extended  their  em- 
pire and  their  faith  over  the  wide  regions  of  Asia 
and  Africa,  subverting  the  empire  of  the  Khos- 
rus,  subjugating  great  territories  in  India,  estab- 
lishing a  splendid  seat  of  power  in  Syria,  dictat- 
ing to  the  conquered  kingdom  of  the  Pharaohs, 
overrunning  the  whole  northern  coast  of  Africa, 
scouring  the  Mediterranean  with  their  ships,  car- 
rying their  conquests  in  one  direction  to  the  very 
walls  of  Constantinople,  and  in  another  to  the  ex- 
treme limits  of  Mauritania  ;  in  a  word,  trampling 
down  all  the  old  dynasties  which  once  held 
haughty  and  magnificent  sway  in  the  East.  The 
whole  presents  a  striking  instance  of  the  triumph 
of  fanatic  enthusiasm  over  disciplined  valor,  at  a 
period  when  the  invention  of  firearms  had  not  re- 
duced war  to  a  matter  of  almost  arithmetical  cal- 
culation. There  is  also  an  air  of  wild  romance 
about  many  of  the  events  recorded  in  this  narrative, 
owing  to  the  character  of  the  Arabs,  and  their 
fondness  for  stratagems,  daring  exploits,  and  indi- 
vidual achievements  of  an  extravagant  nature. 
These  have  sometimes  been  softened,  if  not  sup- 
pressed, by  cautious  historians  ;  but  the  author 
has  found  them  so  in  unison  with  the  people  and 
the  times,  and  with  a  career  of  conquest,  of  itself 
out  of  the  bounds  of  common  probability,  that 
he  has  been  induced  to  leave  them  in  all  their 
graphic  force. 

Those  who  have  read  the  life  of  Mahomet  will 
find  in  the  following  pages  most  of  their  old  ac- 
quaintances again  engaged,  but  in  a  vastly  grand- 
er field  of  action  ;  leading  armies,  subjugating 
empires,  and  dictating  from  the  palaces  and 
thrones  of  deposed  potentates. 

In  constructing  his  work,  which  is  merely  in- 
tended for  popular  use,  the  author  has  adopted  a 
form  somewhat  between  biography  and  chronicle, 
admitting  of  personal  anecdote,  and  a  greater  play 
of  familiar  traits  and  peculiarities  than  is  consid- 
ered admissible  in  the  stately  walk  of  history.  His 
ignorance  of  the  oriental  languages  has  obliged 
him  to  take  his  materials  at  second  hand,  where 


All  the  decrees  of  God  were  recorded  on  it,  and  all 
events  past,  present,  and  to  come,  to  all  eternity.  It 
was  guarded  by  angels. 


he  could  have  wished  to  read  them  in  the  origi- 
nal ;  such,  for  instance,  has  been  the  case  with 
the  accounts  given  by  the  Arabian  writer,  Al 
Wakidi,  of  the  conquest  of  Syria,  and  especially  of 
the  siege  of  Damascus,  which  retain  much  of  their 
dramatic  spirit  even  in  the  homely  pages  of  Ock- 
ley.  To  this  latter  writer  the  author  has  been 
much  indebted,  as  well  as  to  the  Abbe  de  Marig- 
ny's  History  of  the  Arabians,  and  to  D'Herbelot's 
Bibliotheque  Orientale.  In  fact,  his  pages  are  often 
a  mere  digest  of  facts  already  before  the  public, 
but  divested  of  cumbrous  diction  and  uninterest- 
ing details.  Some,  however,  are  furnished  from 
sources  recently  laid  open,  and  not  hitherto 
wrought  into  the  regular  web  of  history. 

In  his  account  of  the  Persian  conquest,  the 
author  has  been  much  benefited  by  the  perusal  of 
the  Gemaldesaal  of  the  learned  Hammer-Purgstall, 
and  by  a  translation  of  the  Persian  historian  Taba- 
ri,  recently  given  to  the  public  through  the  pages 
of  the  Journal  of  the  American  Oriental  Society,  by 
Mr.  John  P.  Brown,  dragoman  of  the  United 
States  legation  at  Constantinople. 

In  the  account  of  the  Moslem  conquests  along 
the  northern  coast  of  Africa,  of  which  so  little  is 
known,  he  has  gleaned  many  of  his  facts  from 
Conde's  Domination  of  the  Arabs  in  Spain,  and 
from  the  valuable  work  on  the  same  subject,  re- 
cently put  forth  under  the  sanction  of  the  Oriental 
Translation  Fund  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  by 
his  estimable  friend,  Don  Pascual  de  Gayangos, 
formely  Professor  of  Arabic  in  the  Athenaeum  of 
Madrid. 

The  author  might  cite  other  sources  whence  he 
has  derived  scattered  facts  ;  but  it  appears  to  him 
that  he  has  already  said  enough  on  this  point, 
about  a  work  written  more  through  inclination 
than  ambition  ;  and  which,  as  before  intimated, 
does  not  aspire  to  be  consulted  as  authority,  but 
merely  to  be  read  as  a  digest  of  current  knowl- 
edge, adapted  to  popular  use. 

SUNNYS1DE,  1850. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ELECTION   OF   ABU  BEKER,  FIRST  CALIPH,  HEGIRA 
II,  A.D.  632. 

THE  death  of  Mahomet  left  his  religion  without 
a  head  and  his  people  without  a  sovereign  ;  there 
was  danger,  therefore,  of  the  newly  formed  empire 
falling  into  confusion.  All  Medina,  on  the  day  of 
his  death,  was  in  a  kind  of  tumult,  and  nothing 


80 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


but  the  precaution  of  Osama  Ibn  Zeid  in  planting 
the  standard  before  the  prophet's  door,  and  post- 
ing troops  in  various  parts,  prevent  popular  com- 
motions. The  question  was,  on  whom  to  devolve 
the  reins  of  government  ?  Four  names  stood 
prominent  as  having  claims  of  affinity  :  Abu 
Beker,  Omar,  Othman,  and  Ali.  Abu  Beker  was 
the  father  of  Ayesha,  the  favorite  wife  of 
Mahomet.  Omar  was  father  of  Hatsa,  another 
of  his  wives,  and  the  one  to  whose  care  he  had 
confided  the  coffer  containing  the  revelations  of 
the  Koran.  Othman  had  married  successively 
two  of  his  daughters,  but  they  were  dead,  and  also 
their  progeny.  Ali  was  cousin  german  of 
Mahomet  and  husband  of  Fatima,  his  only 
daughter.  Such  were  the  ties  of  relationship  to 
him  of  these  four  great  captains.  The  right  of 
succession,  in  order  of  consanguinity,  lay  with 
Ali  ;  and  his  virtues  and  services  eminently  en- 
titled him  to  it.  On  the  first  burst  of  his  generous 
zeal,  when  Islamism  was  a  derided  and  persecuted 
faith,  he  had  been  pronounced  by  Mahomet  his 
brother,  his  vicegerent  ;  he  had  ever  since  been 
devoted  to  him  in  word  and  deed,  and  had  hon- 
ored the  cause  by  his  magnanimity  as  signally  as 
he  had  vindicated  it  by  his  valor.  His  friends, 
confiding  in  the  justice  of  his  claims,  gathered 
round  him  in  the  dwelling  of  his  wife  Fatima,  to 
consult  about  means  of  putting  him  quietly  in  pos- 
session of  the  government. 

Other  interests,  however,  were  at  work,  operat- 
ing upon  the  public  mind.  Abu  Beker  was  held 
up,  not  merely  as  connected  by  marriage  ties  with 
the  prophet,  but  as  one  of  the  first  and  most  zeal- 
ous of  his  disciples  ;  as  the  voucher  for  the  truth 
of  his  night  journey  ;  as  his  fellow-sufferer  in  per- 
secution ;  as  the  one  who  accompanied  him  in  his 
flight  from  Mecca  ;  as  his  companion  in  the  cave 
when  they  were  miraculously  saved  from  discov- 
ery ;  as  his  counsellor  and  co-operator  in  all  his 
plans  and  undertakings  ;  as  the  one  in  fact  whom 
the  prophet  had  plainly  pointed  out  as  his  success- 
or, by  deputing  him  to'  officiate  in  his  stead  in  the 
religious  ceremonies  during  his  last  illness.  His 
claims  were  strongly  urged  by  his  daughter  Aye- 
sha, who  had  great  influence  among  the  faithful  ; 
and  who  was  stimulated  not  so  much  by  zeal  for 
her  father,  as  by  hatred  of  Ali,  whom  she  had 
never  forgiven  tor  having  inclined  his  ear  to  the 
charge  of  incontinence  against  her  in  the  celebrat- 
ed case  entitled  The  False  Accusation. 

Omar  also  had  a  powerful  party  among  the 
populace,  who  admired  him  for  his'  lion-like  de- 
meanor, his  consummate  military  skill,  his 
straightforward  simplicity,  and  dauntless  courage. 
He  also  had  an  active  female  partisan  in  his 
daughter  Hafsa. 

While  therefore  Ali  and  his  friends  were  in  quiet 
counsel  in  the  house  of  Fatima,  many  of  the  prin- 
cipal Moslems  gathered  together  without  their 
knowledge,  to  settle  the  question  of  succession. 
The  two  most  important  personages  in  this  assem- 
blage were  Abu  Beker  and  Omar.  The  first 
measure  was  to  declare  the  supreme  power  not 
hereditary  but  elective  ;  a  measure  which  at  once 
destroyed  the  claims  of  Ali  on  the  score  of  con- 
sanguinity, and  left  the  matter  open  to  the  public 
choice.  This  has  been  ascribed  to  the  jealousy  of 
the  Koreishites  of  the  line  of  Abd  Schems  ;  who 
feared,  should  Ali's  claims  be  recognized,  that  the 
sovereign  power,  like  the  guardianship  of  the 
Caaba,  might  be  perpetuated  in  the  haughty  line 
of  Haschem.  Some,  however,  pretend  to  detect 
in  it  the  subtle  and  hostile  influence  of  Ayesha. 

A  dispute  now  arose  between  the  Mohadjerins 


or  refugees  from  Mecca  and  the  Ansarians  01 
Helpers  of  Medina,  as  to  the  claims  ot  their  re- 
spective cities  in  nominating  a  successor  to 
Mahomet.  The  former  founded  the  claims  ot 
Mecca  on  its  being  the  birthplace  of  the  prophet, 
and  the  first  in  which  his  doctrines  had  been 
divulged  ;  they  set  forward  their  own  claims  also 
as  his  townsmen,  his  relatives,  and  the  companions 
of  his  exile.  The  Ansarians,  on  the  other  hand, 
insisted  on  the  superior  claims  of  Medina,  as  hav- 
ing been  the  aslyum  of  the  prophet,  and  his  cho- 
sen residence  ;  and  on  their  own  claims  as  having 
supported  him  in  his  exile,  and  enabled  him  to 
withstand  and  overcome  his  persecutors. 

The  dispute  soon  grew  furious,  and  scimetars 
flashed  from  their  scabbards,  \vhen  one  of  the  peo- 
ple of  Medina  proposed  as  a  compromise  that 
each  party  should  furnish  a  ruler  and  the  govern- 
ment have  two  heads.  Omar  derided  the  propo- 
sition with  scorn.  "  Two  blades,"  said  he,  "  can- 
not go  into  one  sheath."  Abu  Beker  also  remon- 
strated against  a  measure  calculated  to  weaken 
the  empire  in  its  very  infancy.  He  conjured  the 
Moslems  to  remain  under  one  head,  and  named 
Omar  and  Abu  Obeidah  as  persons  worthy  of  the 
office,  and  between  whom  they  should  choose. 
Abu  Obeidah  was  one  of  the  earliest  disciples  of 
Mahomet  ;  he  had  accompanied  him  in  his  flight 
from  Mecca,  and  adhered  to  him  in  all  his  tor- 
tunes. 

The  counsel  of  Abu  Beker  calmed  for  a  time  the 
turbulence  of  the  assembly,  but  it  soon  revived 
with  redoubled  violence.  Upon  this  Omar  sud- 
denly rose,  advanced  to  Abu  Beker,  and  hailed 
him  as  the  oldest,  best,  and  most  thoroughly-tried 
of  the  adherents  of  the  prophet,  and  the  one  most 
worthy  to  succeed  him.  So  saying,  he  kissed  his 
hand  in  token  of  allegiance,  and  swore  to  obey 
him  as  his  sovereign. 

This  sacrifice  of  his  own  claims  in  favor  of  a 
rival  struck  the  assembly  with  surprise,  and 
opened  their  eyes  to  the  real  merits  ot  Abu  Beker. 
They  beheld  in  him  the  faithful  companion  of  the 
prophet,  who  had  always  been  by  his  side.  They 
knew  his  wisdom  and  moderation,  and  venerated 
his  gray  hairs.  It  appeared  but  reasonable  that 
the  man  whose  counsels  had  contributed  to  estab- 
lish the  government,  should  be  chosen  to  carry  it 
on.  The  example  of  Omar,  therefore,  was 
promptly  followed,  and  Abu  Beker  was  hailed  as 
chief. 

Omar  now  ascended  the  pulpit.  "  Henceforth," 
said  he,  "  if  any  one  shall  presume  to  take  upon 
himself  the  sovereign  power  without  the  public 
voice,  let  him  suffer  death  ;  as  well  as  all  who 
may  nominate  or  uphold  him."  This  measure 
was  instantly  adopted,  and  thus  a  bar  was  put  to 
the  attempts  of  any  other  candidate. 

The  whole  policy  of  Omar  in  these  measures, 
which  at  first  sight  appears  magnanimous,  has 
been  cavilled  at  as  crafty  and  selfish.  Abu  Beker, 
it  is  observed,  was  well  stricken  in  years,  being 
about  the  same  age  with  the  prophet  ;  it  was  not 
probable  he  would  long  survive.  Omar  trusted, 
therefore,  to  succeed  in  a  little  while  to  the  com- 
mand. His  last  measure  struck  at  once  at  the 
hopes  of  Ali,  his  most  formidable  competitor  ; 
who,  shut  up  with  his  friends  in  the  dwelling  ot 
Fatima,  knew  nothing  of  the  meeting  in  which  his 
pretensions  were  thus  demolished.  Craft,  how- 
ever, we  must  observe,  was  not  one  ot  Omar's 
characteristics,  and  was  totally  opposed  to  the 
prompt,  stern,  and  simple  course  of  his  conduct  on 
all  occasions  ;  nor  did  he  ever  show  any  craving 
lust  for  power.  He  seems  ever  to  have  been  a 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


81 


zealot  in  the  cause  of  Islam,  and  to  have  taken  no 
indirect  measures  to  promote  it. 

His  next  movement  was  indicative  of  his 
straightforward  cut- and  -  thrust  policy.  Abu 
Beker,  wary  and  managing,  feared  there  might  he 
some  outbreak  on  the  part  ot  AH  and  his  Iriends 
when  they  should  hear  of  the  election  which  had 
taken  place.  He  requested  Omar,  therefore,  to 
proceed  with  an  armed  band  to  the  mansion  of 
Fatima,  and  maintain  tranquillity  in  that  quarter. 
Omar  surrounded  the  house  with  his  followers  ; 
announced  to  Ali  the  election  ot  Abu  Beker,  and 
demanded  his  concurrence.  Ali  attempted  to  re- 
monstrate, alleging  his  own  claims  ;  but  Omar 
proclaimed  the  penalty  of  death  decreed  to  all 
who  should  attempt  to  usurp  the  sovereign  power 
in  defiance  of  public  will,  and  threatened  to  en- 
force it  by  setting  fire  to  the  house  and  consum- 
ing its  inmates. 

"  Oh  son  of  Khattab  !"  cried  Fatima  reproach- 
fully, "  thou  wilt  not  surely  commit  such  an  out- 
rage !" 

"  Ay  will  I  in  very  truth  !"  replied  Omar, 
"  unless  ye  all  make  common  cause  with  the  peo- 
ple." 

The  friends  of  Ali  were  fain  to  yield,  and  to 
acknowledge  the  sovereignty  of  Abu  Beker.  Ali, 
however,  held  himself  apart  in  proud  and  indig- 
nant reserve  until  the  death  of  Fatima,  which  hap- 
pened in  the  course  of  several  months.  He  then 
paid  tardy  homage  to  Abu  Beker,  but,  in  so  do- 
ing, upbraided  him  with  want  ot  openness  and 
good  faith  in  managing  the  election  without  his 
privity  ;  a  reproach  which  the  reader  will  prob- 
ably think  not  altogether  unmerited.  Abu  Beker, 
however,  disavowed  all  intrigue,  and  declared  he 
had  accepted  the  sovereignty  merely  to  allay  the 
popular  commotion  ;  and  was  ready  to  lay  it  down 
whenever  a  more  worthy  candidate  could  be  found 
who  would  unite  the  wishes  of  the  people. 

Ali  was  seemingly  pacified  by  this  explanation  ; 
but  he  spurned  it  in  his  heart,  and  retired  in  dis- 
gust into  the  interior  of  Arabia,  taking  with  him 
his  two  sons  Hassan  and  Hosein,  the  only  de- 
scendants of  the  prophet.  From  these  have 
sprung  a  numerous  progeny,  who  to  this  day  are 
considered  noble,  and  wear  green  turbans  as  the 
outward  sign  of  their  illustrious  lineage. 


CHAPTER   II. 

MODERATION  OF  ABU  BEKER — TRAITS  OF  HIS 
CHARACTER — REBELLION  OF  ARAB  TRIBES — 
DEFEAT  AND  DEATH  OF  MALEC  IBN  NOWIRAH 
— HARSH  MEASURES  OF  KHALED  CONDEMNED 
BY  OMAR,  BUT  EXCUSED  BY  ABU  BEKER — 
KHALED  DEFEATS  MOSEYLMA  THE  FALSE  PRO- 
PHET— COMPILATION  OF  THE  KORAN. 

ON  assuming  the  supreme  authority,  Abu  Beker 
refused  to  take  the  title  of  king  or  prince  ;  several 
of  the  Moslems  hailed  him  as  God's  vicar  on 
earth,  but  he  rejected  the  appellation  ;  he  was  not 
the  vicar  of  God,  he  said,  but  of  his  prophet, 
whose  plans  and  wishes  it  was  his  duty  to  carry 
out  and  fulfil.  "  In  so  doing,"  added  he,  "  I  will 
endeavor  to  avoid  all  prejudice  and  partiality. 
Obey  me  only  so  far  as  I  obey  God  and  the 
prophet.  If  I  go  beyond  these  bounds,  I  have  no 
authority  over  you.  If  I  err,  set  me  right ;  I  shall 
be  open  to  conviction." 

He  contented  himself,  therefore,  with  the  mod- 


est title  of  Caliph,  that  is  to  say,  successor,  by 
which  the  Arab  sovereigns  have  ever  since  been 
designated.  They  have  not  all,  however,  imitated 
the  modesty  of  Abu  Beker,  in  calling  themselves 
successors  of  the  prophet  ;  but  many,  in  after 
times,  arrogated  to  themselves  the  title  ot  Caliphs 
and  Vicars  of  God,  and  his  Shadow  upon  Earth. 
The  supreme  authority,  as  when  exercised  by 
Mahomet,  united  the  civil  and  religious  functions  : 
the  Caliph  was  sovereign  and  pontiff. 

It  may  be  well  to  observe,  that  the  original 
name  of  the  newly  elected  Caliph  was  Abdallah 
Athek  Ibn  Abu  Kahafa.  He  was  also,  as  we  have 
shown,  termed  Al  Seddek,  or  The  Testifier  to  the 
Truth  ;  from  having  maintained  the  verity  of 
Mahomet's  nocturnal  journey  ;  but  he  is  always 
named  in  Moslem  histories,  Abu  Beker  ;  that  is  to 
say,  The  Father  of  the  Virgin  ;  his  daughter  Aye- 
sha  being  the  only  one  of  the  prophet's  wives  that 
came  a  virgin  to  his  arms,  the  others  having  pre- 
viously been  in  wedlock. 

At  the  time  of  his  election  Abu  Beker  was  about 
sixty-two  years  of  age  ;  tall,  and  well  formed, 
though  spare  ;  with  a  florid  complexion  and  thin 
beard,  which  would  have  been  gray,  but  that  he 
tinged  it  after  the  oriental  usge.  He  was  a  man 
of  great  judgment  and  discretion,  y;hose  wariness 
and  management  at  times  almost  amounted  to 
craft  ;  yet  his  purposes  appear  to  have  been  hon- 
est and  unselfish  ;  directed  to  the  good  of  the 
cause,  not  to  his  own  benefit.  In  the  adminis- 
tration of  his  office  he  betrayed  nothing  of  sordid 
worldliness.  Indifferent  to  riches,  and  to  all 
pomps,  luxuries,  and  sensual  indulgences,  he  ac- 
cepted no  pay  for  his  services  but  a  mere  pittance, 
sufficient  to  maintain  an  Arab  establishment  of  the 
simplest  kind,  in  which  all  his  retinue  consisted  of 
a  camel  and  a  black  slave.  The  surplus  funds 
accruing  to  his.  treasury  he  dispensed  every  Fri- 
day ;  part  to  the  meritorious,  the  rest  to  the  poor,; 
and  was  ever  ready,  from  his  own  private  means, 
to  help  the  distressed.  On  entering  office  he 
caused  his  daughter  Ayesha  to  take  a  strict  ac- 
count of  his  private  patrimony,  to  stand  as  a  rec- 
ord  against  him  should  he  enrich  himself  while 
in  office. 

Notwithstanding  all  his  merits,  however,  his 
advent  to  power  was  attended  by  public  commo- 
tions. Many  of  the  Arabian  tribes  had  been  con- 
verted by  the  sword,  and  it  needed  the  combined 
terrors  of  a  conqueror  and  a  prophet  to  maintain 
them  in  allegiance  to  the  faith.  On  the  death  of 
Mahomet,  therefore,  they  spurned  at  the  authority 
of  his  successor,  and  refused  to  pay  the  Zacat,  or 
religious  contributions  of  tribute,  tithes,  and  alms. 
The  signal  of  revolt  flew  Irom  tribe  to  tribe,  until 
the  Islam  empire  suddenly  shrank  to  the  cities  of 
Mecca,  Medina,  and  Tayef. 

A  strong  body  of  the  rebels  even  took  the  field 
and  advanced  upon  Medina.  They  were  led  on 
by  a  powerful  and  popular  Sheikh  named  Malec 
Ibn  Novvirah.  He  was  a  man  of  high  birth  and 
great  valor,  an  excellent  horseman,  and  a  distin- 
guished poet ;  all  great  claims  on  Arab  admira- 
tion. To  these  may  be  added  the  enviable  for- 
tune of  having  for  wife  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  all  Arabia. 

Hearing  of  the  approach  of  this  warrior  poet 
and  his  army,  Abu  Beker  hastened  to  fortify  the 
city,  sending  the  women  and  children,  the  aged 
and  infirm  to  the  rocks  and  caverns  of  the  neigh- 
boring mountains. 

But  though  Mahomet  was  dead,  the  sword  of 
Islam  was  not  buried  with  him  ;  and  Khaled  Ibn 
Waled  now  stood  forward  to  sustain  the  fame  ac- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


quired  by  former  acts  of  prowess.  He  was  sent 
out  against  the  rebels  at  the  head  of  a  hasty  levy 
of  four  thousand  five  hundred  men  and  eleven 
banners.  The  wary  Abu  Beker,  with  whom  dis- 
cretion kept  an  equal  pace  with  valor,  had  a  high 
opinion  of  the  character  and  talents  of  the  rebel 
chief,  and  hoped,  notwithstanding  his  defection, 
to  conquer  him  by  kindness.  Khaled  was  in- 
structed, therefore,'  should  Malec  fall  into  his 
power,  to  treat  him  with  great  respect  ;  to  be 
lenient  to  the  vanquished,  and  to  endeavor,  by 
gentle  means,  to  win  all  back  to  the  standard  of 
Islam. 

Khaled,  however,  was  a  downright  soldier,  who 
had  no  liking  for  gentle  means.  Having  over- 
come the  rebels  in  a  pitched  battle,  he  overran 
their  country,  giving  his  soldiery  permission  to 
seize  upon  the  Hocks  and  herds  of  the  vanquished, 
and  make  slaves  of  their  children. 

Among  the  prisoners  brought  into  his  presence 
were  Malec  and  his  beautiful  wife.  The  beauty 
of  the  latter  dazzled  the  eyes  even  of  the  rough 
soldier,  but  probably  hardened  his  heart  against 
her  husband. 

"  Why,"  demanded  he  of  Malec,  "  do  you  refuse 
to  pay  the  Zacat  ?" 

"  Because  I  can  pray  to  God  without  paying 
these  exactions,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Prayer,  without  alms,  is  of  no  avail,"  said 
Khaled. 

"  Does  your  master  say  so  ?"  demanded  Malec 
haughtily. 

"  My  master  !"  echoed  Khaled,  "  and  is  he  not 
thy  master  likewise  ?  By  Allah,  I  have  a  mind  to 
strike  off  thy  head  ?" 

"  Are  these  also  the  orders  of  your  master?" 
rejoined  Malec  with  a  sneer. 

"  Again  !"  cried  Khaled,  in  a  fury  ;  "  smite  off 
the  head  of  this  rebel." 

His  officers  interfered,  for  all  respected  the  pris- 
oner ;  but  the  rage  of  Khaled  was  not  to  be  ap- 
peased. 

"  The  beauty  of  this  woman  kills  me,"  said 
Malec,  significantly,  pointing  to  his  wife. 

"  Nay  !"  cried  Khaled,  "it  is  Allah  who  kills 
thee  because  of  thine  apostasy." 

"  I  am  no  apostate,"  said  Malec  ;  "  I  profess  the 
true  faith — " 

It  was  too  late  ;  the  signal  of  death  had  already 
been  given.  Scarce  had  the  declaration  of  faith 
passed  the  lips  of  the  unfortunate  Malec,  when 
his  head  fell  beneath  the  scimetar  of  Derar  Ibn 
al  Azwar,  a  rough  soldier  after  Khaled's  own 
heart. 

This  summary  execution,  to  which  the  beauty 
of  a  woman  was  alleged  as  the  main  excitement, 
gave  deep  concern  to  Abu  Beker,  who  remarked, 
that  the  prophet  had  pardoned  even  Wacksa,  the 
Ethiop,  the  slayer  of  his  uncle  Hamza,  when  the 
culprit  made  profession  of  the  faith.  As  to  Omar, 
he  declared  that  Khaled,  according  to  the  laws  of 
the  Koran,  ought  to  be  stoned  to  death  for  adul- 
tery, or  executed  for  the  murder  of  a  Moslem. 
The  politic  Abu  Beker,  however,  observed  that 
Khaled  had  sinned  through  error  rather  than  in- 
tention. "Shall  I,"  added  he,  "sheathe  the 
sword  of  God  ?  The  sword  which  he  himself  has 
drawn  against  the  unbelieving  ?" 

So  far  from  sheathing  the  sword,  we  find  it 
shortly  afterward  employed  in  an  important  ser- 
vice. This  was  against  the  false  prophet  Moseil- 
ma,  who,  encouraged  by  the  impunity  with 
\vhich,  during  the  illness  of  Mahomet,  he  had  been 
suffered  to  propagate  his  doctrines,  had  increased 
greatly  the  number  of  his  proselytes  and  adher- 


ents, and  held  a  kind  of  regal  and  sacerdotal  sway 
over  the  important  city  and  fertile  province  of 
Yamama,  between  the  Red  Sea  and  the  Gulf  of 
Persia. 

There  is  quite  a  flavor  of  romance  in  the  story 
of  this  impostor.  Among  those  dazzled  by  his 
celebrity  and  charmed  by  his  rhapsodical  effusions, 
was  Sedjah,  wife  of  Abu  Cahdla,  a  poetess  of  the 
tribe  of  Tamirn,  distinguished  among  the  Arabs 
for  her  personal  and  mental  charms.  She  came 
to  see  Mosei'lma  in  like  manner  as  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  came  to  witness  the  wisdom  and  grandeur 
of  King  Solomon.  They  were  inspired  with  a 
mutual  passion  at  the  first  interview,  and  passed 
much  of  their  time  together  in  tender,  if  not  relig- 
ious intercourse.  Sedjah  became  a  convert  to  the 
faith  of  her  lover,  and  caught  from  him  the  imagi- 
nary gift  of  prophecy.  He  appears  to  have 
caught,  in  exchange,  the  gift  of  poetry,  for  certain 
amatory  effusions,  addressed  by  him  to  his  beauti- 
ful visitant,  are  still  preserved  by  an  Arabian  his- 
torian, and  breathe  all  the  warmth  of  the  Song  of 
Solomon. 

This  dream  of  poetry  and  prophecy  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  approach  of  Khaled  at  the  head  of  a 
numerous  army.  Mosei'lma  sallied  forth  to  meet 
him  with  a  still  greater  force.  A  battle  took  place 
at  Akreba,  not  far  from  the  capital  city  of  Yama- 
ma. At  the  onset  the  rebels  had  a  transient  suc- 
cess, and  twelve  hundred  Moslems  bit  the  dust. 
Khaled,  however,  rallied  his  forces  ;  the  enemy 
were  overthrown,  and  ten  thousand  cut  to  pieces. 
Moseilma  fought  with  desperation,  but  fell  covered 
with  wounds.  It  is  said  his  death-blow  was  given 
by  Wacksa,  the  Ethiopian,  the  same  who  had 
killed  Hamza,  uncle  of  Mahomet,  in  the  battle  of 
Ohod,  and  that  he  used  the  self-same  spear. 
Wacksa,  since  his  pardon  by  Mahomet,  had  be- 
come a  zealous  Moslem. 

The  surviving  disciples  of  Moseilma  became 
promptly  converted  to  Islamism  under  the  pious 
but  heavy  hand  of  Khaled,  whose  late  offence  in  the 
savage  execution  of  Malec  was  completely  atoned 
for  by  his  victory  over  the  false  prophet.  He  add- 
ed other  services  of  the  same  military  kind  in  this 
critical  juncture  of  public  affairs  ;  reinforcing  and 
co-operating  with  certain  commanders  who  had 
been  sent  in  different  directions  to  suppress  rebel- 
lions ;  and  it  was  chiefly  through  his  prompt  and 
energetic  activity  that,  before  the  expiration  of  the 
first  year  of  the  Caliphat,  order  was  restored,  and 
the  empire  of  Islam  re-established  in  Arabia'. 

It  was  shortly  after  the  victory  of  Khaled  over 
Mosei'lma  that  Abu  Beker  undertook  to  gather  to- 
gether, from  written  and  oral  sources,  the  pre- 
cepts and  revelations  of  the  Koran,  which  hitherto 
had  existed  partly  in  scattered  documents,  and 
partly  in  the  memories  of  the  disciples  and  com- 
panions of  the  prophet.  He  was  greatly  urged  to 
this  undertaking  by  Omar,  that  ardent  zealot  for 
the  faith.  The  latter  had  observed  with  alarm  the 
number  of  veteran  companions  of  the  prophet  who 
had  fallen  in  the  battle  of  Akreba.  "In  a  little 
while,"  said  he,  "all  the  living  testifiers  to  the 
faith,  who  bear  the  revelations  of  it  in  their  memo- 
ries, will  have  passed  away,  and  with  them  so 
many  records  of  the  doctrines  of  Islam."  He 
urged  Abu  Beker,  therefore,  to  collect  from  the 
surviving  disciples  all  that  they  remembered  ;  and 
to  gather  together  from  all  quarters  whatever 
parts  of  the  Koran  existed  in  writing.  The  man- 
ner in  which  Abu  Beker  proceeded  to  execute  this 
pious  task  has  been  noticed  in  the  preceding  vol- 
ume ;  it  was  not,  however,  completed  until  under 
a  succeeding  Caliph. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


83 


CHAPTER  III. 

CAMPAIGN  AGAINST  SYRIA — ARMY  SENT  UNDER 
YEZED  IBN  ABU  SOFIAN — SUCCESSES — ANOTHER 
ARMY  UNDER  AMRU  IBN  AL  AASS — BRILLIANT 
ACHIEVEMENTS  OF  KHALED  IN  IRAK. 

THE  rebel  tribes  of  Arabia  being  once  more 
brought  into  allegiance,  and  tranquillity  estab- 
lished at  home,  Abu  Beker  turned  his  thoughts  to 
execute  the  injunction  of  the  prophet,  to  propagate 
the  taith  throughout  the  world,  until  all  nations 
should  be  converted  to  Islamism,  by  persuasion  or 
the  sword.  The  moment  was  auspicious  for  such 
a  gigantic  task.  The  long  and  desolating  wars 
between  the  Persian  and  Byzantine  emperors, 
though  now  at  an  end,  had  exhausted  those  once 
mighty  powers,  and  left  their  frontiers  open  to  ag- 
gression. In  the  second  year  of  his  reign,  there- 
fore, Abu  Beker  prepared  to  carry  out  the  great 
enterprise  contemplated  by  Mahomet  in  his  latter 
days — the  conquest  of  Syria. 

Under  this  general  name,  it  should  be  observed, 
were  comprehended  the  countries  lying  between 
the  Euphrates  and  the  Mediterranean,  including 
Phoenicia  and  Palestine.*  These  countries,  once 
forming  a  system  of  petty  states  and  kingdoms, 
each  with  its  own  government  and  monarch,  were 
now  merged  into  the  great  Byzantine  Empire,  and 
acknowledged  the  sway  of  the  emperor  Heraclius 
at  Constantinople. 

Syria  had  long  been  a  land  of  promise  to  the 
Arabs.  They  had  known  it  for  ages  by  the  inter- 
course of  the  caravans,  and  had  drawn  from  it 
their  chief  supplies  of  corn.  It  was  a  land  of 
abundance.  Part  of  it  was  devoted  to  agriculture 
and  husbandry,  covered  with  fields  of  grain,  with 
vineyards  and  trees  producing  the  finest  fruits  ; 
with  pastures  well  stocked  with  flocks  and  herds. 
On  the  Arabian  borders  it  had  cities,  the  rich 
marts  of  internal  trade  ;  while  its  seaports,  though 
declined  from  the  ancient  splendor  and  pre-emi- 
nence of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  still  were  the  staples  of 
an  opulent  and  widely  extended  commerce. 

In  the  twelfth  year  of  the  Hegira,  the  following 
summons  was  sent  by  Abu  Beker  to  the  chiefs  of 
Arabia  Petrea  and  Arabia  Felix. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Most  Merciful  God  !  Ap- 
dallah  Athek  Ibn  Abu  Kahafa  to  all  true  believ- 
ers, health,  happiness,  and  the  blessing  of  God. 
Praise  be  to  God,  and  to  Mahomet  his  prophet  ! 
This  is  to  inform  you  that  I  intend  to  send  an  army 
of  the  faithful  into  Syria,  to  deliver  that  country 
from  the  infidels,  and  I  remind  you  that  to  fight 
for  the  true  faith  is  to  obey  God  !" 

There  needed  no  further  inducement  to  bring  to 
his  standard  every  Arab  that  owned  a  horse  or  a 
camel,  or  could  wield  a  lance.  Everyday  brought 
some  Sheikh  to  Medina  at  the  head  of  the  fighting 
men  of  his  tribe,  and  before  long  the  fields  round 
the  city  were  studded  with  encampments.  The 
command  of  the  army  was  given  to  Yezed  Ibn 
Abu  Sofian.  The  troops  soon  became  impatient 
to  strike  their  sunburnt  tents  and  march.  "  Why 
do  we  loiter  ?"  cried  they;  "  all  our  fighting  men 
are  here  ;  there  are  none  more  to  come.  The 
plains  of  Medina  are  parched  and  bare,  there  is  no 
food  for  man  or  steed.  Give  us  the  word,  and  let 
us  march  lor  the  fruitful  land  of  Syria." 

Abu  Beker  assented  to  their  wishes.     From  the 


*  Syria,  in  its  widest  oriental  acceptation,  included 
likewise  Mesopotamia,  Chaldca  and  even  Assyria,  the 
whole  forming  what  in  Scriptural  geography  was  de- 
nominated Aram. 


brow  of  a  hill  he  reviewed  the  army  on  the  point 
of  departure.  The  heart  of  the  Caliph  swelled 
with  pious  exultation  as  he  looked  down  upon  the 
stirring  multitude,  the  glittering  array  of  arms, 
the  squadrons  of  horsemen,  the  lengthening  line 
of  camels,  and  called  to  mind  the  scanty  handful 
that  used  to  gather  round  the  standard  of  the 
prophet.  Scarce  ten  years  had  elapsed  since  the 
latter  had  been  driven  a  fugitive  from  Mecca,  and 
now  a  mighty  host  assembled  at  the  summons  of 
his  successor,  and  distant  empires  were  threaten- 
ed by  the  sword  of  Islam.  Filled  with  these 
thoughts,  he  lifted  up  his  voice  and  prayed  to  God 
to  make  these  troops  valiant  and  victorious.  Then 
giving  the  word  to  march,  the  tents  were  struck, 
the  camels  laden,  and  in  a  little  while  the  army 
poured  in  a  long  continuous  train  over  hill  and 
valley. 

Abu  Beker  accompanied  them  on  foot  on  the 
first  day's  march.  The  leaders  would  have  dis- 
mounted and  yielded  him  their  steeds.  "  Nay," 
said  he,  "  ride  on.  You  are  in  the  service  of 
Allah.  As  for  me,  I  shall  be  rewarded  for  every 
step  I  take  in  his  cause." 

His  parting  charge  to  Yezea,  the  commander  of 
the  army,  was  a  singular  mixture  of  severity  and 
mercy. 

"  Treat  your  soldiers  with  kindness  and  consid- 
eration ;  be  just  in  all  your  dealings  with  them, 
and  consult  their  feelings  and  opinions.  Fight 
valiantly,  and  never  turn  your  back  upon  a  foe. 
When  victorious,  harm  not  the  aged,  and  protect 
women  and  children.  Destroy  not  the  palm-tree 
nor  fruit-trees  of  any  kind  ;  waste  not  the  cornfield 
with  fire  ;  nor  kill  any  cattle  excepting  for  food. 
Stand  faithfully  to  every  covenant  and  promise  ; 
respect  all  religious  persons  who  live  in  hermit- 
ages, or  convents,  and  spare  their  edifices.  But 
should  you  meet  with  a  class  of  unbelievers  of  a 
different  kind,  who  go  about  with  shaven  crowns, 
and  belong  to  the  synagogue  of  Satan,  be  sure 
you  cleave  their  skulls  unless  they  embrace  the 
true  faith,  or  render  tribute." 

Having  received  this  summary  charge,  Yezed 
continued  his  march  toward  Syria,  and  the  pious 
Caliph  returned  to  Medina. 

The  prayers  which  the  latter  had  put  up  for  the 
success  of  the  army  appeared  to  be  successtul. 
Before  long  a  great  cavalgada  of  horses,  mules, 
and  camels  laden  with  booty  poured  into  the  gates 
of  Medina.  Yezed  had  encountered,  on  the  con- 
fines of  Syria,  a  body  of  troops  detached  by  the 
emperor  Heraclius  to  observe  him,  and  had  de- 
feated them,  killing  the  general  and  twelve  hun- 
dred men.  He  had  been  equally  successful  in  vari- 
ous subsequent  skirmishes.  All  the  booty  gained 
in  these  actions  had  been  sent  to  the  Caliph,  as  an 
offering  by  the  army  of  the  first  fruits  of  the  har- 
vest of  Syria. 

Abu  Beker  sent  tidings  of  this  success  to  Mecca 
and  the  surrounding  country,  calling  upon  all  true 
believers  to  press  forward  in  the  career  of  victory, 
thus  prosperously  commenced.  Another  army 
was  soon  set  on  foot,  the  command  of  which  was 
given  to  Seid  Ibn  Khaled.  This  appointment, 
however,  not  being  satisfactory  to  Omar,  whose 
opinions  and  wishes  had  vast  weight  at  Medina, 
Ayesha  prevailed  on  her  father  to  invite  Seid  to 
resign,  and  to  appoint  in  his  place  Amru  Ibn  al 
Aass  ;  the  same  who  in  the  early  days  of  the  faith 
ridiculed  Mahomet  and  his  doctrines  in  satirical 
verses,  but  who,  since  his  conversion  to  Islamism, 
had  risen  to  eminence  in  its  service,  and  was  one 
of  its  most  valiant  and  efficient  champions. 

Such  was  the  zeal  of  the  Moslems  in  the  prose- 


84 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


cution  of  this  holy  war.  that  Seid  Ibn  Khaled 
cheerfully  resigned  his  command  and  enlisted  un- 
der the  standard  which  he  had  lately  reared. 

At  the  departure  of  the  army,  Abu  Beker,  who 
was  excellent  at  counsel,  and  lond  of  bestowing  it, 
gave  Amru  a  code  of  conduct  for  his  government, 
admonishing  him  to  live  righteously,  as  a  dying 
man  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  accountable  for 
all  things  in  a  future  state.  That  he  should  not 
trouble  himself  about  the  private  concerns  of 
others,  and  should  forbid  his  men  all  religious 
disputes  about  events  and  doctrines  of  the  "  times 
of  ignorance  ;' '  that  is  to  say,  the  times  antecedent 
to  Mahomet  ;  but  should  enforce  the  diligent 
reading  of  the  Koran,  which  contained  all  that 
was  necessary  for  them  to  know. 

As  there  would  now  be  large  bodies  of  troops  in 
Syra,  and  various  able  commanders,  Abu  Beker 
in  maturing  the  plan  of  his  campaign  assigned 
them  different  points  of  action.  Amru  was  to 
draw  toward  Palestine  ;  Abu  Obeidah  to  under- 
take Emessa  ;  Seid  Ibn  Abu  Sofian,  Damascus  ; 
and  Serhil  Ibn  Hasan,  the  country  about  the  Jor- 
dan. They  were  all  to  act  as  much  as  possible  in 
concert,  and  to  aid  each  other  in  case  of  need. 
When  together  they  were  all  to  be  under  the  orders 
of  Abu  Obeidah,  to  whom  was  given  the  general 
command  in  Syria.  This  veteran  disciple  of 
the  prophet  stood  high,  as  we  have  shown,  in  the 
esteem  and  confidence  of  Abu  Beker,  having  been 
one  of  the  two  whom  he  had  named  as  worthy  of 
the  Caliphat.  He  was  now  about  fifty  years  of 
age  ;  zealously  devoted  to  the  cause,  yet  one  with 
whom  the  sword  of  faith  was  sheathed  in  meek- 
ness and  humanity  ;  perhaps  the  cautious  Abu 
Beker  thought  his  moderation  would  be  a  salutary 
check  to  the  headlong  valor  of  the  fanatical  sol- 
diers of  Islam. 

While  this  grand  campaign  was  put  in  opera- 
tion against  the  Roman  possessions  in  Syria,  a 
minor  force  was  sent  to  invade  Irak.  This  prov- 
ince, which  included  the  ancient  Chaldea  and 
the  Babylonia  of  Ptolemy,  was  bounded  on  the 
east  by  Susiana  or  Khurzestan  and  the  mountains 
of  Assyria  and  Medea,  on  the  north  by  part  of 
Mesopotamia,  on  the  west  and  south  by  the 
Deserts  of  Sham  or  Syria  and  by  a  part  of  Arabia 
Deserta.  It  was  a  region  tributary  to  the  Persian 
monarch,  and  so  far  a  part  of  his  dominions.  The 
campaign  in  this  quarter  was  confided  to  Khaled, 
ol  whose  prowess  Abu  Beker  had  an  exalted  opin- 
ion, and  who  was  at  this  time  at  the  head  of  a 
moderate  force  in  one  of  the  rebellious  provinces 
which  he  had  brought  into  subjection.  The 
Caliph's  letter  to  him  was  to  the  following  effect. 
"  Turn  thee  toward  Arabian  Irak  !  The  conquest 
of  Hira  and  Cufa  is  intrusted  to  thee.  After  the 
subjection  of  those  lands,  turn  thee  against  Aila 
and  subdue  it  with  God's  help  !" 

Hira  was  a  kingdom  to  the  west  of  Babylonia, 
on  the  verge  of  the  Syrian  Desert  ;  it  had  been 
founded  by  a  race  of  Arabs,  descendants  of  Kah- 
tan,  and  had  subsisted  upward  of  six  hundred 
years  ;  the  greater  part  of  the  time  it  had  been 
under  a  line  of  princes  of  the  house  of  Mondar  ; 
who  acknowledged  allegiance  to  the  kings  of 
Persia  and  acted  as  their  lieutenants  over  the 
Arabs  of  Irak. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  third  century  many 
Jacobite  Christians  had  been  driven  by  the  per- 
secutions and  disorders  of  the  Eastern  Church  to 
take  refuge  among  the  Arabs  of  Hira.  Their 
numbers  had  been  augmented  in  subsequent 
times  by  fugitives  from  various  quarters,  until, 
shortly  before  the  birth  of  Mahomet,  the  king  of 


Hira  and  all  his  subjects  had  embraced  Christian- 
ity. 

Much  was  said  of  the  splendor  of  the  capital, 
which  bore  the  same  name  with  the  kingdom. 
Here  were  two  palaces  of  extraordinary  magnifi- 
cence, the  beauty  of  one  of  which,  if  Arabian 
legends  speak  true,  was  fatal  to  the  architect  ;  for 
the  king,  fearing  that  he  might  build  one  still 
more  beautiful  for  some  other  monarch,  had  him 
thrown  headlong  from  the  tower. 

Khaled  acted  with  his  usual  energy  and  suc- 
cess in  the  invasion  of  this  kingdom.  With  ten 
thousand  men  he  besieged  the  city  of  Hira  ; 
stormed  its  palaces  ;  slew  the  king  in  battle  ; 
subdued  the  kingdom  ;  imposed  on  it  an  annual 
tribute  of  seventy  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  the 
first  tribute  ever  levied  by  Moslems  on  a  foreign 
land,  and  sent  the  same  with  the  son  of  the  de- 
ceased king  to  Medina. 

He  next  carried  his  triumphant  arms  against 
Aila,  defeated  Hormuz,  the  Persian  governor,  and 
sent  his  crown,  with  a  fifth  part  of  the  booty, 
to  the  Caliph.  The  crown  was  of  great  value, 
being  one  of  the  first  class  of  those  worn  by  the 
seven  vicegerents  of  the  Persian  "  King  of 
Kings."  Among  the  trophies  of  victory  sent  to 
Medina  was  an  elephant.  Three  other  Persian, 
generals  and  governors  made  several  attempts, 
with  powerful  armies,  to  check  the  victorious 
career  of  Khaled,  but  were  alike  defeated.  City 
alter  city  fell  into  his  hands  ;  nothing  seemed  ca- 
pable of  withstanding  his  arms.  Planting  his 
victorious  standard  on  the  bank  of  the  Euphrates, 
he  wrote  to  the  Persian  monarch,  calling  upon 
him  to  embrace  the  faith  or  pay  tribute.  "  If 
you  refuse  both,"  added  he,  "  I  will  come  upon 
you  with  a  host  who  love  death  as  much  as  you 
do  life." 

The  repeated  convoys  of  booty  sent  by  Khaled 
to  Medina  after  his  several  victories,  the  sight  of 
captured  crowns  and  captured  princes,  and  of  the 
first  tribute  imposed  on  foreign  lands,  had  ex- 
cited the  public  exultation  to  an  uncommon  de- 
gree. Abu  Beker  especially  took  pride  in  his 
achievements  ;  considering  them  proofs  of  his 
own  sagacity  and  foresight  which  he  had  shown 
in  refusing  to  punish  him  with  death  when 
strongly  urged  to  do  so  by  Omar.  As  victory 
after  victory  was  announced,  and  train  after  train 
laden  with  spoils  crowded  the  gates  of  Medina, 
he  joyed  to  see  his  anticipations  so  far  outstripped 
by  the  deeds  of  this  headlong  warrior.  "  By  Al- 
lah," exclaimed  he,  in  an  ecstasy,  "  womankind 
is  too  weak  to  give  birth  to  another  Khaled." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

INCOMPETENCY  OF  ABU  OBEIDAH  TO  THE  GEN- 
ERAL COMMAND  IN  SYRIA  —  KHALED  SENT 
TO  SUPERSEDE  HIM — PERIL  OF  THE  MOSLEM 
ARMY  BEFORE  BOSRA — TIMELY  ARRIVAL  OF 
KHALED— HIS  EXPLOITS  DURING  THE  SIEGE — 
CAPTURE  OF  BOSRA. 

THE  exultation  of  the  Caliph  over  the  triumphs 
in  Irak  was  checked  by  tidings  of  a  different  tone 
from  the  army  in  Syria.  Abu  Obeidah,  who  had 
the  general  command,  wante:!  the  boldness  and 
enterprise  requisite  to  an  invading  general.  A 
partial  defeat  of  some  of  his  troops  discouraged 
him,  and  he  heard  with  disquiet  of  vast  hosts 
which  the  emperor  Heraclius  was  assembling 
to  overwhelm  him.  His  letters  to  the  Caliph 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


85 


partook  of  the  anxiety  and  perplexity  of  his 
mind.  Abu  Beker,  whose  generally  sober  mind 
was  dazzled  at  the  time  by  the  daring  exploits  of 
Khaled,  was  annoyed  at  finding  that,  while  the 
latter  was  dashing  forward  in  a  brilliant  career 
ot  conquest  in  Irak,  Abu  Obeidah  was  merely 
standing  on  the  defensive  in  Syria.  In  the  vexa- 
tion of  the  moment  he  regretted  that  he  had 
intrusted  the  invasion  of  the  latter  country  to  one 
who  appeared  to  him  a  nerveless  man  ;  and  he 
forthwith  sent  missives  to  Khaled  ordering  him 
to  leave  the  prosecution  of  the  war  in  Irak  to  his 
subordinate  generals,  and  repair,  in  all  haste,  to 
aid  the  armies  in  Syria,  and  take  the  general  com- 
mand there.  Khaled  obeyed  the  orders  with  his 
usual  promptness.  Leaving  his  army  under  the 
charge  of  Mosenna  Ibn  Haris,  he  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  fifteen  hundred  horse,  and  spurred 
over  the  Syrian  borders  to  join  the  Moslem  host, 
which  he  learned,  while  on  the  way,  was  drawing 
toward  the  Christian  city  of  Bosra. 

This  city,  the  reader  will  recollect,  was  the 
great  mart  on  the  Syrian  frontier,  annually  vis- 
ited by  the  caravans,  and  where  Mahomet,  when 
a  youth,  had  his  first  interview  with  Sergius,  the 
Nestorian  monk,  from  whom  he  was  said  to  have 
received  instructions  in  the  Christian  faith.  It 
was  a  place  usually  filled  with  merchandise,  and 
held  out  a  promise  of  great  booty  ;  but  it  was 
strongly  walled,  its  inhabitants  were  inured  to 
arms,  and  it  could  at  any  time  pour  forth  twelve 
thousand  horse.  Its  very  name,  in  the  Syrian 
tongue,  signified  a  tower  of  safety.  Against  this 
place  Abu  Obeidah  had  sent  Serjabil  Ibn  Hasa- 
nah,  a  veteran  secretary  of  Mahomet,  with  a  troop 
of  ten  thousand  horse.  On  his  approach,  Ro- 
manus,  the  governor  of  the  city,  notwithstand- 
ing the  strength  of  the  place  and  of  the  garrison, 
would  fain  have  paid  tribute,  for  he  was  dismayed 
by  the  accounts  he  had  received  of  the  fanatic 
zeal  and  irresistible  valor  of  the  Moslems,  but 
his  people  were  stout  of  heart,  and  insisted  on 
fighting. 

The  venerable  Serjabil,  as  he  drew  near  to  the 
city,  called  upon  Allah  to  grant  the  victory  prom- 
ised in  his  name  by  his  apostle  ;  and  to  establish 
the  truth  of  his  unity  by  confounding  its  opposers. 
His  prayers  apparently  were  of  no  avail.  Squad- 
ron alter  squadron  of  horsemen  wheeled  down 
from  the  gates  of  Bosra,  attacked  the  Moslems  on 
every  side,  threw  them  into  confusion,  and  made 
great  slaughter.  Overwhelmed  by  numbers,  Ser- 
jabil was  about  to  order  a  retreat,  when  a  great 
cloud  of  dust  gave  notice  of  another  army  at 
hand. 

There  was  a  momentary  pause  on  both  sides, 
but  the  shout  of  Allah  Achbar  !  Allah  Achbar  ! 
resounded  through  the  Moslem  host,  as  the  eagle 
banner  of  Khaled  was  descried  through  the  cloud. 
That  warrior  came  galloping  to  the  field,  at  the 
head  of  his  troop  of  horsemen,  all  covered  with 
dust.  Charging  the  foe  with  his  characteristic 
impetuosity,  he  drove  them  back  to  the  city,  and 
planted  his  standard  before  the  walls. 

The  battle  over,  Serjabil  would  have  embraced 
his  deliverer,  who  was  likewise  his  ancient  friend, 
but  Khaled  regarded  him  reproachfully.  "  What 
madness  possessed  thee,"  said  he,  "to  attack 
with  thy  handful  of  horsemen  a  fortress  girt  with 
stone  walls  and  thronged  with  soldiers  ?" 

"  I  acted,"  said  Serjabil,  "  not  for  myself,  but 
at  the  command  of  Abu  Obeidah." 

"  Abu  Obeidah,"  replied  Khaled,  bluntly,  "  is  a 
very  worthy  man,  but  he  knows  little  of  warfare." 

In  effect  the  army  of  Syria  soon  found  the  differ- 


ence between  the  commanders.  The  soldiers  of 
Khaled,  fatigued  with  a  hard  march,  and  harder 
combat,  snatched  a  hasty  repast,  and  throwing 
themselves  upon  the  ground,  were  soon  asleep. 
Khaled  alone  took  no  rest  ;  but,  mounting  a  fresh 
horse,  prowled  all  night  round  the  city,  and  the 
camp,  fearing  some  new  irruption  from  the  foe. 

At  daybreak  he  roused  his  army  for  the  morning 
prayer.  Some  of  the  troops  performed  their  ablu- 
tions with  water,  others  with  sand.  Khaled  put 
up  the  matin  prayer  ;  then  every  man  grasped  his 
weapon  and  sprang  to  horse,  for  the  gates  of 
Bosra  were  already  pouring  forth  their  legions. 
The  eyes  of  Khaled  kindled  as  he  saw  them  pranc- 
ing down  into  the  plain  and  glittering  in  the  ris- 
ing sun.  "These  infidels,"  said  he,  "think  us 
weary  and  wayworn,  but  they  will  be  confounded. 
Forward  to  the  fight,  for  the  blessing  of  Allah  is 
with  us  !" 

As  the  armies  approached  each  other,  Romanus 
rode  in  advance  of  his  troops  and  defied  the  Mos- 
lem chief  to  single  combat.  Khaled  advanced  on. 
the  instant.  Romanus,  however,  instead  of  level- 
ling his  lance,  entered  into  a  parley  in  an  under 
tone  of  voice.  He  declared  that  he  was  a  Ma- 
hometan at  heart,  and  had  incurred  great  odium 
among  the  people  of  the  place,  by  endeavoring  to 
persuade  them  to  pay  tribute.  He  now  offered  to 
embrace  Islamism,  and  to  return  and  do  his  best 
to  yield  the  city  into  the  hands  ot  the  Moslems, 
on  condition  of  security  for  life,  liberty,  and  prop- 
erty. 

Khaled  readily  assented  to  the  condition,  but 
suggested  that  they  should  exchange  a  few  dry 
blows,  to  enable  Romanus  to  return  to  the  city  with 
a  better  grace,  and  prevent  a  suspicion  of  collusion. 
Romanus  agreed  to  the  proposal,  but  with  no 
great  relish,  for  he  was  an  arrant  craven.  He 
would  fain  have  made  a  mere  feint  and  flourish 
of  weapons;  but  Khaled  had  a  heavy  hand  and  a 
kindling  spirit,  and  dealt  such  hearty  blows  that 
he  would  have  severed  the  other  in  twain,  or 
cloven  him  to  the  saddle,  had  he  struck  with  the 
edge  instead  of  the  flat  of  the  sword. 

"Softly,  softly,"  cried  Romanus.  "Is  this 
what  you  call  sham  fighting  ;  or  do  you  mean  to 
slay  me  ?" 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Khaled,  "  but  we 
must  lay  on  our  blows  a  little  roughly,  to  appear 
in  earnest." 

Romanus,  battered  and  bruised,  and  wounded 
in  several  places,  was  glad  to  get  back  to  his 
army  with  his  life.  He  now  extolled  the  prowess 
ot  Khaled,  and  advised  the  citizens  to  negotiate  a 
surrender  ;  but  they  upbraided  him  with  his  cow- 
ardice, stripped  him  of  his  command,  and  made 
him  a  prisoner  in  his  own  house  ;  substituting  in 
his  place  the  general  who  had  come  to  them  with 
reinforcements  from  the  emperor  Heraclius. 

The  new  governor,  as  his  first  essay  in  com- 
mand, sallied  in  advance  of  the  army,  and  defied 
Khaled  to  combat.  Abda'lrahman,  son  of  the 
Caliph,  a  youth  of  great  promise,  begged  of  Kha- 
led the  honor  of  being  his  champion.  His  re- 
quest being  granted,  he  rode  forth,  well  armed,  to 
the  encounter.  The  combat  was  of  short  dura- 
tion. At  the  onset  the  governor  was  daunted  by 
the  fierce  countenance  of  the  youthful  Moslem, 
and  coniounded  by  the  address  with  which  he 
managed  his  horse  and  wielded  his  lance.  At 
the  first  wound  he  lost  all  presence  of  mind,  and 
turning  the  reins  endeavored  to  escape  by  dint  of 
hoof.  His  steed  was  swiftest,  and  he  succeeded 
in  throwing  himself  into  the  midst  of  his  forces. 
The  impetuous  youth  spurred  after  him,  cutting 


86 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


and  slashing,  right  and  left,  and  hewing  his  way 
with  his  scimetar. 

Khaled,  delighted  with  his  valor,  but  alarmed 
at  his  peril,  gave  the  signal  for  a  general  charge. 
To  the  fight  !  to  the  fight  !  Paradise  !  Paradise  ! 
was  the  maddening  cry.  Horse  was  spurred 
against  horse  ;  man  grappled  man.  The  desperate 
conflict  was  witnessed  from  the  walls,  and  spread 
dismay  through  the  city.  The  bells  rang  alarums, 
the  shrieks  of  women  and  children  mingled  with 
the  prayers  and  chants  of  priests  and  monks  mov- 
ing in  procession  through  the  streets. 

The  Moslems,  too,  called  upon  Allah  for  suc- 
cor, mingling  prayers  and  execrations  as  they 
fought.  At  length  the  troops  of  Bosra  gave  way  : 
the  squadrons  that  had  sallied  forth  so  gloriously 
in  the  morning  were  driven  back  in  broken  and 
headlong  masses  to  the  city  ;  the  gates  were  has- 
tily swung  to  and  barred  after  them  ;  and,  while 
they  panted  with  fatigue  and  terror  behind  their 
bulwarks,  the  standards  and  banners  of  the  cross 
were  planted  on  the  battlements,  and  couriers 
were  sent  off  imploring  reinforcements  from  the 
emperor. 

Night  closed  upon  the  scene  of  battle.  The 
stifled  groans  of  wounded  warriors,  mingled  with 
the  wailings  of  women,  and  the  prayers  of  monks 
and  friars  were  heard  in  the  once  joyful  streets 
of  Bosra  ;  while  sentinels  walked  the  rounds  of 
the  Arab  camp  to  guard  it  against  the  desperation 
of  the  foe. 

Abda'lrahman  commanded  one  of  the  patrols. 
Walking  his  round  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  city 
walls,  he  beheld  a  man  come  stealthily  forth,  the 
embroidery  of  whose  garments,  faintly  glittering  in 
the  starlight,  betrayed  him  to  be  a  person  of  con- 
sequence. The  lance  of  Abda'lrahman  was  at 
his  breast,  when  he  proclaimed  himself  to  be  Ro- 
manus,  and  demanded  to  be  led  to  Khaled.  On 
entering  the  tent  of  that  leader  he  inveighed 
against  the  treatment  he  had  experienced  from  the 
people  of  Bosra,  and  invoked  vengeance.  They 
had  confined  him  to  his  house,  but  it  was  built 
against  the  wall  of  the  city.  He  had  caused  his 
sons  and  servants,  therefore,  to  break  a  hole 
through  it,  by  which  he  had  issued  forth,  and  by 
which  he  offered  to  introduce  a  band  of  soldiers, 
•who  might  throw  open  the  city  gates  to  the 
army. 

His  offer  was  instantly  accepted,  and  Abda'lrah- 
man was  intrusted  with  the  dangerous  enterprise. 
He  took  with  him  a  hundred  picked  men,  and,  con- 
ducted by  Romanus,  entered  in  the  dead  of  night, 
by  the  breach  in  the  wall,  into  the  house  of  the 
traitor.  Here  they  were  refreshed  with  food,  and 
disguised  to  look  like  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison. 
Abda'lrahman  then  divided  them  into  four  bands 
of  twenty-five  men  each,  three  of  which  he  sent 
in  different  directions,  with  orders  to  keep  quiet 
until  he  and  his  followers  should  give  the  signal 
shout  of  Allah  Achbar  !  He  then  requested  Ro- 
manus to  conduct  him  to  the  quarters  of  the  gov- 
ernor, who  had  fled  the  fight  with  him  that 
day.  Under  the  guidance  of  the  traitor  he  and  his 
twenty-five  men  passed  with  noiseless  steps 
through  the  streets.  Most  of  the  unfortunate  peo- 
ple of  Bosra  had  sunk  to  sleep  ;  but  now  and  then 
the  groan  of  some  wounded  warrior,  or  the  lament 
of  some  afflicted  woman,  broke  the  stillness  of  the 
night  and  startled  the  prowlers. 

Arrived  at  the  gate  of  the  citadel,  they  surprised 
the  sentinels,  who  mistook  them  for  a  friendly  pa- 
trol, and  made  their  way  to  the  governor's  cham- 
ber. Romanus  entered  first,  and  summoned  the 
governor  to  receive  a  friend. 


"  What  friend  seeks  me  at  this  hour  of  thg 
night  ?" 

"  Thy  friend  Abda'lrahman,"  cried  Romanus 
with  malignant  triumph  ;  "  who  comes  to  send 
thee  to  hell  !" 

The  wretched  poltroon  would  have  fled.  "  Nay," 
cried  Abda'lrahman,  "  you  escape  me  not  a  sec- 
ond time  !"  and  with  a  blow  of  his  scimetar  laid 
him  dead  at  his  feet.  He  then  gave  the  signal 
shout  of  Allah  Achbar  !  It  was  repeated  by  his 
followers  at  the  portal  ;  echoed  by  the  other  par- 
ties in  different  quarters  ;  the  city  gates  were 
thrown  open,  the  legions  of  Khaled  and  Serja- 
bil  rushed  in,  and  the  whole  city  resounded  with  the 
cries  of  Allah  Achbar  !  The  inhabitants,  startled 
from  their  sleep,  hastened  forth  to  know  the  mean- 
ing of  the  uproar,  but  were  cut  down  at  their 
thresholds,  and  a  horrible  carnage  took  place  un- 
til there  was  a  general  cry  for  quarter.  Then,  in 
compliance  with  one  of  the  precepts  of  Mahomet, 
Khaled  put  a  stop  to  the  slaughter,  and  received 
the  survivors  under  the  yoke. 

The  savage  tumult  being  appeased,  the  un- 
happy inhabitants  of  Bosra  inquired  as  to  the 
mode  in  which  they  had  been  surprised.  Khaled 
hesitated  to  expose  the  baseness  of  Romanus  ;  but 
the  traitor  gloried  in  his  shame,  and  in  the  ven- 
geance he  had  wreaked  upon  former  friends. 

'Twas  I  !"  cried  he,  with  demoniac  exultation. 
"  I  renounce  ye  both  in  this  world  and  the  next. 
I  deny  him  who  was  crucified,  and  despise  his 
worshippers.  I  choose  Islam  for  my  faith,  the 
Caaba  for  my  temple,  the  Moslems  for  my  breth- 
ren, Mahomet  for  my  prophet  ;  and  I  bear  wit- 
ness that  there  is  but  one  only  God,  who  has  no 
partner  in  his  power  and  glory." 

Having  made  this  full  recantation  of  his  old 
faith  and  profession  of  his  new,  in  fulfilment  of  his 
traitorous  compact,  the  apostate  departed  from 
Bosra,  followed  by  the  execrations  of  its  inhabi- 
tants, among  whom  he  durst  no  longer  abide  ; 
and  Khaled,  although  he  despised  him  in  his 
heart,  appointed  a  guard  to  protect  his  property 
from  plunder. 


CHAPTER   V. 
KHALED  LAYS  SIEGE  TO  DAMASCUS. 

THE  capture  of  Bosra  increased  the  ambition 
and  daring  of  the  Moslems,  and  Khaled  now  as- 
pired to  the  conquest  of  Damascus.  This  renown- 
ed and  beautiful  city,  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
magnificent  of  the  East,  and  reputed  to  be  the 
oldest  in  the  world,  stood  in  a  plain  of  wonderful 
richness  and  fertility,  covered  with  groves  and 
gardens,  and  bounded  by  an  amphitheatre  of  hills, 
the  skirts  of  Mount  Lebanon.  A  river  called  by 
the  ancients  Chrysorrhoa,  or  the  stream  of  gold, 
flows  through  this  plain,  feeding  the  canals  and 
water-courses  of  its  gardens,  and  the  fountains  of 
the  city. 

The  commerce  of  the  place  bespoke  the  luxuri- 
ance of  the  soil  ;  dealing  in  wines,  silks,  wool, 
prunes,  raisins,  figs  of  unrivalled  flavor,  sweet 
scented  waters  and  perfumes.  The  fields  were 
covered  with  odoriferous  flowers,  and  the  rose  of 
Damascus  has  become  famous  throughout  the 
world.  This  is  one  of  the  few,  the  very  lew,  cities 
famous  in  ancient  times,  which  still  retain  a  trace 
of  ancient  delights.  "  The  citron,"  says  a  recent 
traveller,  "  perfumes  the  air  for  many  miles  round 
the  city  ;  and  the  fig-trees  are  of  vast  size.  The 
pomegranate  and  orange  grow  in  thickets.  There 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS    SUCCESSORS. 


37 


is  the  trickling  of  water  on  every  hand.  Wher- 
ever you  go  there  is  a  trotting  brook,  or  a  full  and 
silent  stream  beside  the  track  ;  and  you  have  fre- 
quently to  cross  from  one  vivid  green  meadow  to 
another  by  fording,  or  by  little  bridges.  These 
streams  are  all  from  the  river  beloved  by  Naaman 
of  old.  He  might  well  ask  whether  the  Jordan 
was  better  than  Pharpar  and  Abana,  the  rivers  of 
Damascus." 

In  this  city  too  were  invented  those  silken  stuffs 
called  damask  from  the  place  of  their  origin,  and 
those  swords  and  scimetars  proverbial  for  their 
matchless  temper. 

When  Khaled  resolved  to  strike  for  this  great 
prize,  he  had  but  fifteen  hundred  horse,  which  had 
followed  him  from  Irak,  in  addition  to  the  force 
which  he  found  with  Serjabil  ;  having,  however, 
the  general  command  of  the  troops  in  Syria,  he 
wrote  to  Abu  Obeidah  to  join  him  with  his  army, 
amounting  to  thirty-seven  thousand  men. 

The  Moslems,  accustomed  to  the  aridity  of  the 
desert,  gazed  with  wonder  and  delight  upon  the 
rich  plain  of  Damascus.  As  they  wound  in 
lengthening  files  along  the  banks  of  the  shining 
river,  through  verdant  and  flowery  fields,  or 
among  groves  and  vineyards  and  blooming  gar- 
dens, it  seemed  as  if  they  were  already  realizing  the 
paradise  promised  by  the  prophet  to  true  believers  ; 
but  when  the  fanes  and  towers  of  Damascus  rose 
to  sight  from  among  tufted  bowers,  they  broke 
forth  into  shouts  of  transport. 

Heraclius  the  emperor  was  at  Antioch,  the  cap- 
ital of  his  Syrian  dominions,  when  he  heard  of  the 
advance  of  the  Arabs  upon  the  city  of  Damascus. 
He  supposed  the  troops  of  Khaled,  however,  to  be 
a  mere  predatory  band,  intent  as  usual  on  hasty 
ravage,  and  easily  repulsed  when  satisfied  with 
plunder  ;  and  he  felt  little  alarm  for  the  safety  of 
the  city,  knowing  it  to  be  very  populous,  strongly 
fortified,  and  well  garrisoned.  He  contented  him- 
self, therefore,  with  dispatching  a  general  named 
Caloiis  with  five  thousand  men  to  reinforce  it. 

In  passing  through  the  country,  Caloiis  found  the 
people  flying  to  castles  and  other  strongholds  and 
putting  them  in  a  state  of  defence.  As  he  ap- 
proached Baalbec,  the  women  came  forth  with 
dishevelled  hair,  wringing  their  hands  and  utter- 
ing cries  of  despair.  "  Alas  !"  cried  they,  "the 
Arabs  overrun  the  land,  and  nothing  can  with- 
stand them.  Aracah  and  Sachnah,  and  Tadmor 
and  Bosra,  have  fallen,  and  who  shall  protect 
Damascus  !" 

Caloiis  inquired  the  force  of  the  invaders. 

They  knew  but  of  the  troops  of  Khaled,  and  an- 
swered, "  Fifteen  hundred  horse." 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,"  said  Caloiis  ;  "  in  a  few 
days  I  will  return  with  the  head  of  Khaled  on  the 
point  of  this  good  spear." 

He  arrived  at  Damascus  before  the  Moslem 
army  came  in  sight,  and  the  same  self-confidence 
marked  his  proceedings.  Arrogating  to  himself 
the  supreme  command,  he  would  have  deposed 
and  expelled  the  former  governor  Azrai'l,  a  meri- 
torious old  soldier,  well  beloved  by  the  people. 
Violent  dissensions  immediately  arose,  and  the 
city,  instead  of  being  prepared  for  defence,  was  a 
prey  to  internal  strife. 

In  the  height  of  these  tumults  the  army  of  Kha- 
led, forty  thousand  strong,  being  augmented  by 
that  of  Abu  Obeidah,  was  descried  marching 
across  the  plain.  The  sense  of  danger  calmed 
the  fury  of  contention,  and  the  two  governors  sal- 
lied forth,  with  a  great  part  of  the  garrison,  to  en- 
counter the  invaders. 

Both  armies  drew  up  in  battle  array.     Khaled 


was  in  front  of  the  Moslem  line,  and  with  him 
was  his  brother  in  arms,  Derar  Ibn  al  Azwar. 
The  latter  was  mounted  on  a  fine  Arabian  mare, 
and  poised  a  ponderous  lance,  looking  a  warrior 
at  all  points.  Khaled  regarded  him  with  friendly 
pride,  and  resolved  to  give  him  an  opportunity  of 
distinguishing  himself.  For  this  purpose  he  de» 
tached  him  with  a  small  squadron  of  horse  to  feel 
the  pulse  of  the  enemy.  "  Now  is  the  time,  De- 
rar," cried  he,  "  to  show  thyself  a  man,  and  em- 
ulate the  deeds  of  thy  father  and  other  illustrious 
soldiers  of  the  faith.  Forward  in  the  righteous 
cause,  and  Allah  will  protect  thee." 

Derar  levelled  his  lance,  and  at  the  head  of  his 
handful  of  followers  charged  into  the  thickest  of 
the  foe.  In  the  first  encounter  four  horsemen  fell 
beneath  his  arm  ;  then  wheeling  off,  and  soaring 
as  it  were  into  the  field  to  mark  a  different  quarry, 
he  charged  with  his  little  troop  upon  the  foot  sol- 
diers, slew  six  with  his  own  hand,  trampled  down 
others,  and  produced  great  confusion.  The  Chris- 
tians, however,  recovered  from  a  temporary 
panic,  and  opposed  him  with  overwhelming  num- 
bers and  Roman  discipline.  Derar  saw  the  ine- 
quality of  the  fight,  and  having  glutted  his  martial 
fury,  showed  the  Arab  dexterity  at  retreat,  mak- 
ing his  way  back  safely  to  the  Moslem  army,  by 
whom  he  was  received  with  acclamation. 

Abda'lrahman  gave  a  similar  proof  of  fiery 
courage  ;  but  his  cavalry  was  received  by  a  bat- 
talion of  infantry  arranged  in  phalanx  with  extend- 
ed spears,  while  stones  and  darts  hurled  from  a 
distance  galled  both  horse  and  rider.  He  also, 
after  making  a  daring  assault  and  sudden  car- 
nage, retired  upon  thespurand  rejoined  the  army. 

Khaled  now  emulated  the  prowess  of  his 
friends,  and  careering  in  front  of  the  enemy, 
launched  a  general  defiance  to  single  combat. 

The  jealousies  of  the  two  Christian  commanders 
continued  in  the  field.  Azrai'l,  turning  to  Caloiis, 
taunted  him  to  accept  the  challenge  as  a  matter  of 
course  ;  seeing  he  was  sent  to  protect  the  country 
in  this  hour  of  danger. 

The  vaunting  of  Caloiis  was  at  an  end.  He  had 
no  inclination  for  so  close  a  fight  with  such  an 
enemy,  but  pride  would  not  permit  him  to  refuse. 
He  entered  into  the  conflict  with  a  faint  heart,  and 
in  a  short  time  would  have  retreated,  but  Khaled 
wheeled  between  him  and  his  army.  He  then 
fought  with  desperation,  and  the  contest  was  furi- 
ous on  both  sides,  until  Caloiis  beheld  his  blood 
streaming  clown  his  armor.  His  heart  failed  him 
at  the  sight  ;  his  strength  flagged  ;  he  fought 
merely  on  the  defensive.  Khaled  perceiving  this, 
suddenly  closed  with  him,  shifted  his  lance  to  his 
left  hand,  grasped  Caloiis  with  the  right,  dragged 
him  out  of  the  saddle,  and  bore  him  off  captive  to 
the  Moslem  host,  who  rent  the  air  with  trium- 
phant shouts. 

Mounting  a  fresh  horse,  Khaled  prepared  again 
for  battle. 

"  Tarry,  my  friend,"  cried  Derar  ;  "  repose  thy-, 
self  for  a  time,  and  I  will  take  thy  place." 

"  Oh,  Derar,"  replied  Khaled,  "  he  who  labors 
to-day  shall  rest  to-morrow.  There  will  be  re- 
pose sufficient  amid  the  delights  of  paradise  !" 

When  about  to  return  to  the  field,  Caloiis  de- 
manded a  moment's  audience,  and  making  use  of 
the  traitor  Romanus  as  an  interpreter,  advised 
Khaled  to  bend  all  his  efforts  against  Azrai'l,  the 
former  governor  df  the  city,  whose  death  he  said 
would  be  the  surest  means  of  gaining  the  victory. 
Thus  a  spirit  of  envy  induced  him  to  sacrifice 
the  good  of  his  country  to  the  desire  of  injuring  a 
rival. 


88 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Khaled  was  willing  to  take  advice  even  from  an 
enemy,  especially  when  it  fell  in  with  his  own 
humor  ;  he  advanced,  therefore,  in  front,  chal- 
lenging Azrail  loudly  by  name.  The  latter 
quickly  appeared,  well  armed  and  mounted,  and 
-with  undaunted  bearing. 

The  contest  was  long  and  obstinate.  The 
combatants  paused  for  breath.  Khaled  could  not 
but  regard  his  adversary  with  admiration. 

"Thy  name,"  said  he,  "is  Azrail?"  (This  is 
the  Arabic  name  for  the  angel  of  death.) 

"  Azrail  is  my  name,"  replied  the  other. 

"  By  Allah  !"  replied  Khaled,  "  thy  namesake 
is  at  hand,  waiting  to  carry  thy  soul  to  the  fire  of 
Jehennam  !" 

They  renewed  the  fight.  Azrall,  who  was  the 
most  fleetly  mounted,  being  sorely  pressed,  made 
use  of  an  Arabian  stratagem,  and  giving  the  reins 
to  his  steed  pretended  to  fly  the  field.  Having 
distanced  his  adversary  and  fatigued  his  horse,  he 
suddenly  wheeled  about  and  returned  to  the 
charge.  Khaled,  however,  was  not  to  be  outdone 
in  stratagem.  Throwing  himself  lightly  from  his 
saddle  just  as  his  antagonist  came  galloping  upon 
him,  he  struck  at  the  legs  of  his  horse,  brought 
him  to  the  ground,  and  took  his  rider  prisoner.  ' 

The  magnanimity  of  Khaled  was  not  equal  to 
his  valor  ;  or  rather  his  fanatical  zeal  overcame  all 
generous  feelings.  He  admired  Azrail  as  a  sol- 
dier, but  detested  him  as  an  infidel.  Placing 
him  beside  his  late  rival  Caloiis,  he  called  upon 
both  to  renounce  Christianity  and  embrace  the 
faith  of  Islam.  They  persisted  in  a  firm  refusal, 
upon  which  he  gave  the  signal,  and  their  heads 
were  struck  off  and  thrown  over  the  walls  into  the 
city,  a  fearful  warning  to  the  inhabitants. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SIEGE  OF   DAMASCUS    CONTINUED— EXPLOITS    OF 
DERAR — DEFEAT   OF    THE   IMPERIAL   ARMY. 

THE  siege  of  Damascus  continued  with  increas- 
ing rigor.  The  inhabitants  were  embarrassed 
and  dismayed  by  the  loss  of  their  two  governors, 
and  the  garrison  was  thinned  by  frequent  skir- 
mishes, in  which  the  bravest  warriors  were  sure  to 
fall.  At  length  the  soldiers  ceased  to  sally  forth, 
and  the  place  became  strictly  invested.  Khaled, 
with  one  half  of  the  army,  drew  near  to  the  walls 
on  the  east  side,  while  Abu  Obeidah,  with  the 
other  half,  was  stationed  on  the  west.  The  inhabit- 
ants now  attempted  to  corrupt  Khaled,  offering 
him  a  thousand  ounces  of  gold  and  two  hundred 
magnificent  damask  robes  to  raise  the  siege.  His 
reply  was,  that  they  must  embrace  the  Islam  faith, 
pay  tribute,  or  fight  unto  the  death. 

While  the  Arabs  lay  thus  encamped  round  the 
city,  as  if  watching  its  expiring  throes,  they  were 
surprised  one  day  by  the  unusual  sound  of  shouts 
of  joy  within  its  walls.  Sending  out  scouts,  they 
soon  learned  the  astounding  intelligence  that  a 
great  army  was  marching  to  the  relief  of  the  place. 

The  besieged,  in  fact,  in  the  height  of  their  ex- 
tremity, had  lowered  a  messenger  from  the  walls 
in  the  dead  of  the  night,  bearing  tidings  to  the 
emperor  at  Antioch  of  their  perilous  condition, 
and  imploring  prompt  and  efficient  succor.  Aware 
for  the  first  time  of  the  real  magnitude  of  the  dan- 
ger, Heraclius  dispatched  an  army  of  a  hundred 
thousand  men  to  their  relief,  led  on  by  Werdan, 
prefect  of  Emessa,  an  experienced  general. 


Khaled  would  at  once  have  marched  to  meet 
the  foe,  alleging  that  so  great  a  host  could  come 
only  in  divisions,  which  might  be  defeated  in 
detail  ;  the  cautious  and  quiet  Abu  Obeidah,  how- 
ever, counselled  to  continue  the  siege,  and  send 
some  able  officer  with  a  detachment  to  check  and 
divert  the  advancing  army.  His  advice  was 
adopted,  and  Derar,  the  cherished  companion  in 
arms  of  Khaled,  was  chosen  for  the  purpose. 
That  fiery  Moslem  was  ready  to  march  at  once 
and  attack  the  enemy  with  any  handful  of  men 
that  might  be  assigned  him  ;  but  Khaled  rebuked 
his  inconsiderate  zeal.  "  We  are  expected,"  said 
he,  "  to  fight  for  the  faith,  but  not  to  throsv  our- 
selves away."  Allotting  to -his  friend,  therefore, 
one  thousand  chosen  horsemen,  he  recommended 
to  him  to  hang  on  the  flanks  of  the  enemy  and  im- 
pede their  march. 

The  fleetly  mounted  band  of  Derar  soon  came 
in  sight  of  the  van  of  Werdan's  army,  slowly 
marching  in  heavy  masses.  They  were  ior  hover- 
ing about  it  and  harassing  it  in  the  Arab  manner, 
but  the  impetuous  valor  of  Derar  was  inflamed,  and 
he  swore  not  to  draw  back  a  step  without  hard 
fighting.  He  was  seconded  by  Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah, 
who  reminded  the  troops  that  a  handful  of  the 
faithful  was  sufficient  to  defeat  an  army  of  infidels. 

The  battle  cry  was  given.  Derar,  with  some  of 
his  choicest  troops,  attacked  the  centre  of  the 
army,  seeking  to  grapple  with  the  general,  whom 
he  beheld  there,  surrounded  by  his  guard.  At 
the  very  onset  he  struck  down  the  prefect's  right- 
hand  man,  and  then  his  standard-bearer.  Several 
of  Derar's  followers  sprang  from  their  steeds  to 
seize  the  standard,  a  cross  richly  adorned  with 
precious  stones,  while  he  beat  off  the  enemy  who 
endeavored  to  regain  it.  The  captured  cross  was 
borne  off  in  triumph  ;  but  at  the  same  moment 
Derar  received  a  wound  in  the  left  arm  from  a 
javelin,  launched  by  a  son  of  Werdan.  Turning 
upon  the  youth,  he  thrust  his  lance  into  his  body, 
but,  in  withdrawing  it,  the  iron  head  remained  in 
the  wound.  Thus  left,  unarmed,  he  defended  him- 
self for  a  time  with  the  mere  truncheon  of  the 
lance,  but  was  overpowered  and  taken  prisoner. 
The  Moslems  fought  furiously  to  rescue  him,  but 
in  vain,  and  he  was  borne  captive  from  the  field. 
They  would  now  have  fled,  but  were  recalled  by 
Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah.  "  Whoever  flies,"  cried  he, 
"  turns  his  back  upon  God  and  his  prophet.  Par- 
adise is  for  those  who  fall  in  battle.  It  your  cap- 
tain be  dead,  God  is  living,  and  sees  your  ac- 
tions." 

They  rallied  and  stood  at  bay.  The  fortune  of 
the  day  was  against  them  ;  they  were  attacked 
by  tenfold  their  number,  and  though  they  fought 
with  desperation,  they  would  soon  have  been  cut 
to  pieces,  had  not  Khaled,  at  that  critical  mo- 
ment, arrived  at  the  scene  of  action  with  the 
greater  part  of  his  forces  ;  a  swift  horseman  having 
brought  him  tidings  of  this  disastrous  affray,  and 
the  capture  of  his  friend. 

On  arriving,  he  stopped  not  to  parley,  but 
charged  into  the  thickest  of  the  foe,  where  he  saw 
most  banners,  hoping  there  to  find  his  captive 
friend.  Wherever  he  turned  he  hewed  a  path  be- 
fore him,  but  Derar  was  not  to  be  found.  At 
length  a  prisoner  told  him  that  the  captive  had 
been  sent  off  to  Emessa  under  a  strong  escort. 
Khaled  instantly  dispatched  Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah 
with  a  hundred  horse  in  pursuit.  They  soon  over- 
took the  escort,  attacked  them  furiously,  slew 
several,  and  put  the  rest  to  flight,  who  left  Derar, 
bound  with  cords,  upon  his  charger. 

By  the  time  that  Rafi  and  Derar  rejoined  the 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


89 


Moslem  army.  Khaled  had  defeated  the  whole 
forces  of  Werdan,  division  after  division,  as  they 
arrived  successively  at  the  field  of  action.  In  this 
manner  a  hundred  thousand  troops  were  defeated, 
in  detail,  by  less  than  a  third  of  their  number,  in- 
spired by  fanatic  valor,  and  led  on  by  a  skilful  and 
intrepid  chief.  Thousands  of  the  fugitives  were 
killed  in  the  pursuit  ;  an  immense  booty  in  treas- 
ure, arms,  baggage,  and  horses  fell  to  the  victors, 
and  Khaled  led  back  his  army,  flushed  with  con- 
quest, but  fatigued  with  fighting  and  burdened 
with  spoils,  to  resume  the  siege  of  Damascus. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

SIEGE  OF  DAMASCUS   CONTINUED — SALLY  OF  THE 
GARRISON— HEROISM   OF  THE  MOSLEM  WOMEN. 

THE  tidings  of  the  defeat  of  Werdan  and  his 
powerful  army  made  the  emperor  Heraclius  trem- 
ble in  his  palace  at  Antioch  for  the  safety  of  his 
Syrian  kingdom.  Hastily  levying  another  army  of 
seventy  thousand  men,  he  put  them  under  the 
command  of  Werdan,  at  Aiznadin,  with  orders  to 
hasten  to  the  relief  of  Damascus,  and  attack  the 
Arab  army,  which  must  be  diminished  and  en- 
feebled by  the  recent  battle. 

Khaled  took  counsel  of  Abu  Obeidah  how  to 
avoid  the  impending  storm.  It  was  determined 
to  raise  the  siege  of  Damascus,  and  seek  the  en- 
emy promptly  at  Aiznadin.  Conscious,  however, 
of  the  inadequacy  of  his  forces,  Khaled  sent  mis- 
sives to  all  the  Moslem  generals  within  his  call. 

"  In  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God  !  Khaled 
Ibn  al  Walid  to  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass,  health  and 
happiness.  The  Moslem  brethren  are  about  to 
march  to  Aiznadin  to  do  battle  with  seventy  thou- 
sand Greeks,  who  are  coming  to  extinguish  the 
light  of  God.  But  Allah  will  preserve  his  light  in 
despite  of  all  the  infidels.  Come  to  Aiznadin  with 
thy  troops  ;  for,  God  willing,  thou  shalt  find  me 
there."  These  missives  sent,  he  broke  up  his 
encampment  before  Damascus,  and  marched,  with 
his  whole  force,  toward  Aiznadin.  He  would 
have  placed  Abu  Obeidah  at  the  head  of  the 
army  ;  but  the  latter  modestly  remarked,  that  as 
Khaled  was  now  commander-in-chief,  that  station 
appertained  to  him.  Abu  Obeidah,  therefore, 
brought  up  the  rear,  where  were  the  baggage,  the 
booty,  the  women,  and  the  children. 

When  the  garrison  of  Damascus  saw  their  en- 
emy on  the  march,  they  sallied  forth  under  two 
brothers  named  Peter  and  Paul.  The  former  led 
ten  thousand  infantry,  the  latter  six  thousand 
horse.  Overtaking  the  rear  of  the  Moslems,  Paul 
with  his  cavalry  charged  into  the  midst  of  them, 
cutting  down  some,  trampling  others  under  foot, 
and  spreading  wide  confusion.  Peter  in  the 
mean  time,  with  his  infantry,  made  a  sweep  of  the 
camp  equipage,  the  baggage,  and  the  accumula- 
ted booty,  and  capturing  most  of  the  women, 
made  off  with  his  spoils  toward  Damascus. 

Tidings  of  this  onset  having  reached  Khaled  in 
the  van,  he  sent  Derar,  Abda'lrahman,  and  Rafii 
Ibn  Omeirah,  scouring  back,  each  at  the  head  of 
two  hundred  horse,  while  he  followed  with  the 
main  force. 

Derar  and  his  associates  soon  turned  the  tide  of 
battle,  routing  Paul  and  his  cavalry  with  such 
slaughter,  that  of  the  six  thousand  but  a  small 
part  escaped  to  Damascus.  Paul  threw  himself 
from  his  horse,  and  attempted  to  escape  on  foot, 


but  was  taken  prisoner.  The  exultation  of  the 
victors,  however,  was  damped  by  the  intelligence 
that  their  women  had  been  carried  away  captive, 
and  great  was  the  grief  of  Derar,  on  learning  that 
his  sister  Caulah,  a  woman  of  great  beauty,  was 
among  the  number. 

In  the  mean  time  Peter  and  his  troops,  with 
their  spoils  and  captives,  had  proceeded  on  the 
way  to  Damascus,  but  halted  [under  some  trees 
beside  a  fountain,  to  refresh  themselves  and  di- 
vide their  booty.  In  the  division,  Caulah  the  sis- 
ter of  Derar  was  allotted  to  Peter.  This  done, 
the  captors  went  into  their  tents  to  carouse  and 
make  merry  with  the  spoils,  leaving  the  women 
among  the  baggage,  bewailing  their  captive  state. 

Caulah,  however,  was  the  worthy  sister  of 
Derar.  Instead  of  weeping  and  wringing  her 
hands,  she  reproached  her  companions  with  their 
weakness.  "What!"  cried  she,  "shall  we,  the 
daughters  of  warriors  and  followers  of  Mahomet, 
submit  to  be  the  slaves  and  paramours  of  barba- 
rians and  idolaters  ?  For  my  part,  sooner  will  I 
die  !" 

Among  her  fellow-captives  were  Hamzarite 
women,  descendants  as  it  is  supposed  of  the 
Amalekites  ol  old,  and  others  of  the  tribe  of  Him- 
iar,  all  bold  viragos,  accustomed  from  their  youth 
to  mount  the  horse,  ply  the  bow,  and  launch  the 
javelin.  They  were  roused  by  the  appeal  of  Cau- 
lah. "What,  however,  can  we  do,"  cried  they, 
"  having  neither  sword  nor  lance  nor  bow  ?" 

"  Let  us  each  take  a  tent  pole,"  replied  Caulah, 
"  and  defend  ourselves  to  the  utmost.  God 
may  deliver  us  ;  if  not,  we  shall  die  and  be  at  rest, 
leaving  no  stain  upon  our  country."  She  was 
seconded  by  a  resolute  woman  named  Offeirah. 
Her  words  prevailed.  They  all  armed  them- 
selves with  tent  poles,  and  Caulah  placed  them 
closely  side  by  side  in  a  circle.  "  Stand  firm," 
said  she.  "  Let  no  one  pass  between  you  ;  pairy 
the  weapons  of  your  assailants,  and  strike  at  their 
heads." 

With  Caulah,  as  with  her  brother,  the  word 
was  accompanied  by  the  deed  ;  for  scarce  had  she 
spoken,  when  a  Greek  soldier  happening  to  ap- 
proach, with  one  blow  of  her  staff  she  shattered 
his  skull. 

The  noise  brought  the  carousersfrom  the  tents. 
They  surrounded  the  women,  and  sought  to  pacify 
them  ;  but  whoever  came  within  reach  of  their 
staves  was  sure  to  suffer.  Peter  was  struck  with 
the  matchless  form  and  glowing  beauty  of  Cau- 
lah, as  she  stood,  fierce  and  fearless,  dealing  her 
blows  on  all  who  approached.  He  charged  his 
men  not  to  harm  her,  and  endeavored  to  win  her 
by  soothing  words  and  offers  of  wealth  and 
honor  ;  but  she  reviled  him  as  an  infidel,  a  dog. 
and  rejected  with  scorn  his  brutal  love.  Incensed 
at  length  by  her  taunts  and  menaces,  he  gave  the 
word,  and  his  followers  rushed  upon  the  women 
with  their  scimetars.  The  unequal  combat  would 
soon  have  ended,  when  Khaled  and  Derar  came 
galloping  with  their  cavalry  to  the  rescue.  Khaled 
was  heavily  armed  ;  but  Derar  was  almost  naked, 
on  a  horse  without  a  saddle,  and  brandishing  a 
lance. 

At  sight  of  them  Peter's  heart  quaked  ;  he  put 
a  stop  to  the  assault  on  the  women,  and  would 
have  made  a  merit  of  delivering  them  up  un- 
harmed. "  We  have  wives  and  sisters  of  our 
own,"  said  he,  "  and  respect  your  courageous  de- 
fence. Go  in  peace  to  your  countrymen." 

He  turned  his  horse's  head,  but  Caulah  smote 
the  legs  of  the  animal  and  brought  him  to  the 
ground  ;  and  Derar  thrust  his  spear  through  the 


90 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


rider  as  he  fell.  Then  alighting  and  striking  off 
the  head  of  Peter,  he  elevated  it  on  the  point  of 
his  lance.  A  general  action  ensued.  The  enemy 
were  routed  and  pursued  with  slaughter  to  the 
gates  of  Damascus,  and  great  booty  was  gained 
of  horses  and  armor. 

The  battle  over,  Paul  was  brought  a  prisoner 
before  Khaled,  and  the  gory  head  of  his  brother 
was  shown  to  him.  "Such,"  cried  Khaled, 
"  will  be  your  fate  unless  you  instantly  embrace 
the  faith  of  Islam."  Paul  wept  over  the  head  of 
his  brother,  and  said  he  wished  not  to  survive 
him.  "  Enough,"  cried  Khaled  ;  the  signal  was 
given,  and  the  head  of  Paul  was  severed  from  his 
body. 

The  Moslem  army  now  retired  to  their  old  camp, 
where  they  found  Abu  Obeidah,  who  had  rallied 
his  fugitives  and  intrenched  himself,  for  it  was 
uncertain  how  near  Werdan  and  his  army  might 
be.  Here  the  weary  victors  reposed  themselves 
from  their  dangers  and  fatigues  ;  talked  over  the 
fortunes  of  the  day,  and  exulted  in  the  courage  of 
their  women. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

BATTLE  OF  A1ZNAD1N. 

THE  army  of  the  prefect  Werdan,  though  sev- 
enty thousand  in  number,  was  for  the  most  part 
composed  of  newly  levied  troops.  It  lay  encamp- 
ed at  Aiznadin,  and  ancient  historians  speak 
much  of  the  splendid  appearance  of  the  imperial 
camp,  rich  in  its  sumptuous  furniture  of  silk  and 
gold,  and  of  the  brilliant  array  of  the  troops  in 
burnished  armor,  with  glittering  swords  and 
lances. 

While  thus  encamped,  Werdan  was  surprised 
one  day  to  behold  clouds  of  dust  rising  in  different 
directions,  from  which  as  they  advanced  broke 
forth  the  flash  of  arms  and  din  of  trumpets.  These 
were  in  fact  the  troops  which  Khaled  had  sum- 
moned by  letter  from  various  parts,  and  which, 
though  widely  separated,  arrived  at  the  appointed 
time  with  a  punctuality  recorded  by  the  Arabian 
chroniclers  as  miraculous. 

The  Moslems  were  at  first  a  little  daunted  by 
the  number  and  formidable  array  of  the  imperial 
host  ;  but  Khaled  harangued  them  in  a  confident 
tone.  "  You  behold,"  said  he,  "  the  last  stake  of 
the  infidels.  This  army  vanquished  and  dispersed, 
they  can  never  muster  another  of  any  force,  and 
all  Syria  is  ours." 

The  armies  lay  encamped  in  sight  of  each  other 
all  night,  and  drew  out  in  battle  array  in  the 
morning. 

"  Who  will  undertake,"  said  Khaled,  "  to  ob- 
serve the  enemy  near  at  hand,  and  bring  me  an 
account  of  the  number  and  disposition  of  his 
forces  ?" 

Derar  immediately  stepped  forward.  "Go," 
said  Khaled,  "  and  Allah  go  with  thee.  But  I 
charge  thee,  Derar,  not  to  strike  a  blow  unpro- 
voked, nor  to  expose  thy  life  unnecessarily." 

When  Werdan  saw  a  single  horseman  prowling 
in  view  of  his  army  and  noting  its  strength  and 
disposition,  he  sent  forth  thirty  horsemen  to  sur- 
round and  capture  him.  Derar  retreated  before 
them  until  they  became  separated  in  the  eagerness 
of  pursuit,  then  suddenly  wheeling  he  received  the 
first  upon  the  point  of  his  lance,  and  so  another 
and  another,  thrusting  them  through  or  striking 


them  from  their  saddles,  until  he  had  killed  or  un- 
horsed seventeen,  and  so  daunted  the  rest  that  he 
was  enabled  to  make  his  retreat  in  safety. 

Khaled  reproached  him  with  rashness  and  diso- 
bedience of  orders. 

"I  sought  not  the  fight,"  replied  Derar. 
"  They  came  forth  against  me,  and  I  feared  that 
God  should  see  me  turn  my  back.  He  doubtless 
aided  me,  and  had  it  not  been  for  your  orders,  I 
should  not  have  desisted  when  I  did." 

Being  inlormed  by  Derar  of  the  number  and  po- 
sitions of  the  enemy's  troops,  Khaled  marshalled 
his  army  accordingly.  He  gave  command  of  the 
right  wing  to  Mead  and  Noman  ;  the  left  to  Saad 
Ibn  Abu  Wakkas  and  Serjabil,  and  took  charge  of 
the  centre  himself,  accompanied  by  Amru,  Ab- 
da'lrahman,  Derar,  Kais,  Rafii,  and  other  distin- 
guished leaders.  A  body  of  four  thousand  horse, 
under  Yezed  Ebn  Abu  Sofian,  was  posted  in  the 
rear  to  guard  the  baggage  and  the  women. 

But  it  was  not  the  men  alone  that  prepared  for 
this  momentous  battle.  Caulah  and  Offeirah, 
and  their  intrepid  companions,  among  whom  were 
women  of  the  highest  rank,  excited  by  their  recent 
success,  armed  themselves  with  such  weapons  as 
they  found  at  hand,  and  prepared  to  mingle  in 
the  fight.  Khaled  applauded  their  courage  and 
devotion,  assuring  them  that,  if  they  fell,  the 
gates  of  paradise  would  be  open  to  them.  He 
then  formed  them  into  two  battalions,  giving 
command  of  one  to  Caulah,  and  of  the  other  to 
Offeirah  ;  and  charged  them,  besides  defending 
themselves  against  the  enemy,  to  keep  a  strict  eye 
upon  his  own  troops  ;  and  whenever  they  saw  a 
Moslem  turn  his  back  upon  the  foe,  to  slay  him 
as  a  recreant  and  an  apostate.  Finally  he  rode 
through  the  ranks  of  his  army,  exhorting  them  all 
to  fight  with  desperation,  since  they  had  wives, 
children,  honor,  religion,  everything  at  stake, 
and  no  place  of  refuge  should  they  be  deleated. 

The  war  cries  now  arose  from  either  army  ;  the 
Christians  shouting  for  "  Christ  and  for  the 
faith  ;"  the  Moslems,  "  La  I'laha  ilia  Allah,  Mo- 
hammed Resoul  Allah  !"  "  There  is  but  one 
God  !  Mahomet  is  the  prophet  of  God  !" 

Just  before  the  armies  engaged,  a  venerable 
man  came  forth  from  among  the  Christians,  and, 
approaching  Khaled,  demanded,  "  Art  thou  the 
general  of  this  army  ?"  "  I  am  considered  such," 
replied  Khaled,  "  while  I  am  true  to  God,  the 
Koran,  and  the  prophet." 

"  Thou  art  come  unprovoked,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  thou  and  thy  host,  to  invade  this  Christian 
land.  Be  not  too  certain  of  success.  Others 
who  have  heretofore  invaded  this  land  have  found 
a  tomb  instead  of  a  triumph.  Look  at  this  host. 
It  is  more  numerous  and  perhaps  better  disci- 
plined than  thine.  Why  wilt  thou  tempt  a  battle 
which  may  end  in  thy  defeat,  and  must  at  all 
events  cost  thee  most  lamentable  bloodshed  ? 
Retire,  then,  in  peace,  and  spare  the  miseries 
which  must  otherwise  fall  upon  either  army. 
Shouldst  thou  do  so,  I  am  authorized  to  offer,  for 
every  soldier  in  thy  host,  a  suit  of  garments,  a 
turban,  and  a  piece  of  gold  ;  for  thyself  a  hun- 
dred pieces  and  ten  silken  robes,  and  for  thy  Ca- 
liph a  thousand  pieces  and  a  hundred  robes." 

"You  proffer  a  part,"  replied  Khaled  scorn- 
fully, "  to  one  who  will  soon  possess  the  whole. 
For  yourselves  there  are  but  three  conditions  : 
embrace  the  faith,  pay  tribute,  or  expect  the 
sword."  With  this  rough  reply  the  venerable 
man  returned  sorrowfully  to  the  Christian  host. 

Still  Khaled  was  unusually  wary.  "  Our  ene- 
mies are  two  to  one,"  said  he  ;  "  we  must  have 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


patience  and  outwind  them.  Let  us  hold  back 
until  nightfall,  for  that  with  the  prophet  was  the 
propitious  time  of  victory." 

The  enemy  now  threw  their  Armenian  archers 
in  the  advance,  and  several  Moslems  were  killed 
and  wounded  with  flights  of  arrows.  Still  Khaled 
restrained  the  impatience  of  his  troops,  ordering 
that  no  man  should  stir  from  his  post.  The  im- 
petuous Derar  at  length  obtained  permission  to 
attack  the  insulting  band  of  archers,  and  spurred 
vigorously  upon  them  with  his  troop  of  horse. 
They,  faltered,  but  were  reinforced  :  troops  were 
sent  to  sustain  Derar  ;  many  were  slain  on  both 
sides,  but  success  inclined  to  the  Moslems. 

The  action  was  on  the  point  of  becoming  gen- 
eral, when  a  horseman  from  the  advance  army 
galloped  up,  and  inquired  for  the  Moslem  gen- 
eral. Khaled,  considering  it  a  challenge,  levelled 
his  lance  for  the  encounter.  "  Turn  thy  lance 
aside,  I  pray  thee,"  cried  the  Christian  eagerly  ; 
"  am  but  a  messenger,  and  seek  a  parley." 

Khaled  quietly  reined  up  his  steed,  and  laid  his 
lance  athwart  the  pommel  of  his  saddle  :  "  Speak 
to  the  purpose,"  said  he,  "  and  teN  no  lies." 

"  I  will  tell  the  naked  truth  ;  dangerous  for  me 
to  tell,  but  most  important  for  thee  to  hear  ;  but 
first  promise  protection  for  myself  and  family." 

Having  obtained  this  promise,  the  messenger, 
whose  name  was  David,  proceeded  :  "  I  am  sent 
by  Werdan  to  entreat  that  the  battle  may  cease, 
and  the  blood  of  brave  men  be  spared  ;  and  that 
thou  wilt  meet  him  to-morrow  morning,  singly, 
in  sight  of  either  army,  to  treat  of  terms  of  peace. 
Such  is  my  message  ;  but  beware,  oh  Khaled  ! 
for  treason  lurks  beneath  it.  Ten  chosen  men, 
well  armed,  will  be  stationed  in  the  night  close 
by  the  place  of  conference,  to  surprise  and  seize, 
or  kill  thee,  when  defenceless  and  off  thy  guard." 

He  then  proceeded  to  mention  the  place  ap- 
pointed for  the  conference,  and  all  the  other  par- 
ticulars. "  Enough,"  said  Khaled.  "  Return 
to  Werdan,  and  tell  him  I  agree  to  meet  him." 

The  Moslems  were  astonished  at  hearing  a  re- 
treat sounded,  when  the  conflict  was  inclining  in 
their  favor  ;  they  withdrew  reluctantly  from  the 
field,  and  Abu  Obeidah  and  Derar  demanded  of 
Khaled  the  meaning  of  his  conduct.  He  inform- 
ed them  of  what  had  just  been  revealed  tb  him. 
"  I  will  keep  this  appointment,"  said  he.  "  I  will 
go  singly  and  will  bring  back  the  heads  of  all  the 
assassins."  Abu  Obeidah,  however,  remonstrated 
against  his  exposing  himself  to  such  unnecessary 
danger.  "  Take  ten  men  with  thee,"  said  he, 
"man  for  man."  "Why  defer  the  punishment 
of  their  perfidy  until  morning  ?"  cried  Derar. 
"  Give  me  the  ten  men,  and  I  will  counterplot 
these  lurkers  this  very  night." 

Having  obtained  permission,  he  picked  out  ten 
men  of  assured  coolness  and  courage,  and  set  off 
with  them  in  the  dead  of  the  night  for  the  place 
of  ambush.  As  they  drew  near  Derar  caused  his 
companions  to  halt,  and,  putting  off  his  clothes  to 
prevent  all  rustling  noise,  crept  warily  with  his 
naked  scimetar  to  the  appointed  ground.  Here 
he  beheld  the  ten  men  fast  asleep,  with  their 
weapons  beneath  their  heads.  Returning  silently, 
and  beckoning  his  companions,  they  singled  out 
each  his  man,  so  that  the  whole  were  dispatched 
at  a  blow.  They  then  stripped  the  dead,  dis- 
guised themselves  in  their  clothes,  and  awaited 
the  coming  day. 

The  rising  sun  shone  on  the  two  armies  drawn 
out  in  battle  array,  and  awaiting  the  parley  of 
the  chiefs.  Werdan  rode  forth  on  a  white  mule, 
and  was  arrayed  in  rich  attire,  with  chains  of 


gold  and  precious  stones.  Khaled  was  clad  in  a 
yellow  silk  vest  and  green  turban.  He  suffered 
himself  to  be  drawn  by  Werdan  toward  the  place 
of  ambush  ;  then  alighting  and  seating  them- 
selves on  the  ground,  they  entered  into  a  parley. 
Their  conference  was  brief  and  boisterous.  Each 
considered  the  other  in  his  power,  and  conducted 
himself  with  haughtiness  and  acrimony.  Werdan 
spoke  of  the  Moslems  as  needy  spoilers,  who 
lived  by  the  sword,  and  invaded  the  fertile  terri- 
tories of  their  neighbors  in  quest  of  plunder. 
"  WTe,  on  the  other  hand,"  said  he,  "  are  wealthy, 
and  desire  peace.  Speak,  what  do  you  require  to 
relieve  your  wants  and  satisfy  your  rapacity  ?" 

"  Miserable  infidel  !"  replied  Khaled.  "  We 
are  not  so  poor  as  to  accept  alms  at  your  hands. 
Allah  provides  for  us.  You  offer  us  a  part  of  what 
is  all  our  own  ;  for  Allah  has  put  all  that  you 
have  into  our  hands  ;  even  to  your  wives  and 
children.  But  do  you  desire  peace  ?  We  have  al- 
ready told  you  our  conditions.  Either  acknowl- 
edge that  there  is  no  other  God  but  God,  and  that 
Mahomet  is  his  prophet,  or  pay  us  such  tribute 
as  we  may  impose.  Do  you  refuse  ?  For  what, 
then,  have  you  brought  me  here  ?  You  knew  our 
terms  yesterday,  and  that  all  your  propositions 
were  rejected.  Do  you  entice  me  here  alone  for 
single  combat  ?  Be  it  so,  and  let  our  weapons  de- 
cide between  us." 

So  saying,  he  sprang  upon  his  feet.  Werdan 
also  rose,  but,  expecting  instant  aid,  neglected  to 
draw  his  sword.  Khaled  seized  him  by  the  throat, 
upon  which  he  called  loudly  to  his  men  in  am- 
bush. The  Moslems  in  ambush  rushed  forth,  and, 
deceived  by  their  Grecian  dresses,  Werdan  for  an 
instant  thought  himself  secure.  As  they  drew 
near  he  discovered  his  mistake,  and  shrank  with 
horror  at  the  sight  of  Derar,  who  advanced,  al- 
most naked,  brandishing  a  scimetar,  and  in 
whom  he  recognized  the  slayer  of  his  son. 
"  Mercy  !  Mercy  !"  cried  he  to  Khaled,  at  find- 
ing himself  caught  in  his  own  snare. 

"  There  is  no  mercy,"  replied  Khaled,  for  him 
who  has  no  faith.  You  came  to  me  with  peace 
on  your  lips,  but  murder  in  your  heart.  Your 
crime  be  upon  your  head." 

The  sentence  was  no  sooner  pronounced  than 
the  powerful  sword  of  Derar  performed  its  office, 
and  the  head  of  Werdan  was  struck  off  at  a  blow. 
The  gory  trophy  was  elevated  on  the  point  of  a  lance 
and  borne  by  the  little  band  toward  the  Christian 
troops,  who,  deceived  by  the  Greek  disguises,  sup- 
posed it  the  head  of  Khaled  and  shouted  with  joy. 
Their  triumph  was  soon  turned  to  dismay  as  they 
discovered  their  error.  Khaled  did  not  suffer  them 
to  recover  from  their  confusion,  but  bade  his 
trumpets  sound  a  general  charge.  What  ensued 
was  a  massacre  rather  than  a  battle.  The  im- 
perial army  broke  and  fled  in  all  directions : 
some  toward  Cassarea,  others  to  Damascus,  and 
others  to  Antioch.  The  booty  was  immense  ; 
crosses  of  silver  and  gold,  adorned  with  precious 
stones,  rich  chains  and  bracelets,  jewels  of  price, 
silken  robes,  armor  and  weapons  of  all  kinds, 
and  numerous  banners,  all  which  Khaled  de- 
clared should  not  be  divided  until  after  the  cap- 
ture of  Damascus. 

Tidings  of  this  great  victory  was  sent  to  the 
Caliph  at  Medina,  by  his  brave  and  well  beloved 
son  Abda'lrahman.  On  receiving  it,  Abu  Beker 
prostrated  himself  and  returned  thanks  to  God. 
The  news  spread  rapidly  throughout  Arabia. 
Hosts  of  adventurers  hurried  to  Medina  from  all 
parts,  and  especially  from  Mecca.  All  were  eager 
to  serve  in  the  cause  of  the  faith,  now  that  they 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


found   it   crowned   with   conquest  and  rewarded 
with  riches. 

The  worthy  Abu  Beker  was  disposed  to  gratify 
their  wishes,  but  Omar,  on  being  consulted,  stern- 
ly objected.  "  The  greater  part  of  these  fellows," 
said  he,  "  who  are  so  eager  to  join  us  now  that  we 
are  successful,  are  those  who  sought  to  crush  us 
when  we  were  few  and  feeble.  They  care  not 
for  the  faith,  but  they  long  to  ravish  the  rich 
fields  of  Syria,  and  share  the  plunder  of  Damas- 
cus. Send  them  not  to  the  army  to  make  brawls 
and  dissensions.  Those  already  there  are  suf- 
ficient to  complete  what  they  have  begun.  They 
have  won  the  victory  ;  let  them  enjoy  the 
spoils." 

In  compliance  with  this  advice,  Abu  Beker  re- 
fused the  prayer  of  the  applicants.  Upon  this 
the  people  of  Mecca,  and  especially  those  of  the 
tribe  of  Koreish,  sent  a  powerful  deputation, 
headed  by  Abu  Sofian,  to  remonstrate  with  the 
Caliph.  "  Why  are  we  denied  permission,"  said 
they,  "  to  fight  in  the  cause  of  our  religion  ?  It 
is  true  that  in  the  days  of  darkness  and  ignorance 
we  made  war  on  the  disciples  of  the  prophet,  be- 
cause we  thought  we  were  doing  God  service. 
Allah,  however,  has  blessed  us  with  the  light  ; 
we  have  seen  and  renounced  our  former  errors. 
We  are  your  brethren  in  the  faith,  as  we  have 
ever  been  your  kindred  in  blood,  and  hereby  take 
upon  ourselves  to  fight  in  the  common  cause. 
Let  there  then  no  longer  be  jealousy  and  envy 
between  us." 

The  heart  of  the  Caliph  was  moved  by  these  re- 
monstrances. He  consulted  with  Ali  and  Omar, 
and  it  was  agreed  that  the  tribe  of  Koreish  should 
be  permitted  to  join  the  army.  Abu  Beker  ac- 
cordingly wrote  to  Khaled  congratulating  him  on 
his  success,  and  informing  him  that  a  large  rein- 
forcement would  join  him  conducted  by  Abu  So- 
fian. This  letter  he  sealed  with  the  seal  of  the 
prophet,  and  dispatched  it  by  his  son  Abda'lrah- 
man. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

OCCURRENCES  BEFORE  DAMASCUS— EXPLOITS  OF 
THOMAS— AB^N  IBN  ZEJD  AND  HIS  AMAZONIAN 
WIFE. 

;  THE  fugitives  from  the  field  of  Aiznadin  carried 
to  Damascus  the  dismal  tidings  that  the  army 
was  overthrown,  and  the  last  hope  of  succor  de- 
stroyed. Great  was  the  consternation  of  the  in- 
habitants, yet  they  set  to  work,  with  desperate 
activity,  to  prepare  for  the  coming  storm.  The 
fugitives  had  reinforced  the  garrison  with  several 
thousand  effective  men.  New  fortifications  were 
hastily  erected.  The  walls  were  lined  with  en- 
gines to  discharge  stones  and  darts,  which  were 
pianaged  by  Jews  skilled  in  their  use. 

In  the  midst  of  their  preparation,  they  beheld 
squadron  after  squadron  of  Moslem  cavalry 
emerging  from  among  distant  groves,  while  a 
lengthening  line  of  foot  soldiers  poured  along  be- 
tween the  gardens.  This  was  the  order  of  march 
of  the  Moslem  host.  The  advance  guard,  of  up- 
ward of  nine  thousand  horsemen,  was  led  by 
Amru.  Then  came  two  thousand  Koreishite 
horse,  led  by  Abu  Sofian.  Then  a  like  number 
under  Serjabil.  Then  Omar  Ibn  Rabiyah  with  a 
similar  division  ;  then  the  main  body  of  the  army 
led  by  Abu  Obeidah,  and  lastly  the  rear-guard 


displaying  the  black  eagle,  the  fateful  banner  of 
Khaled,  and  led  by  that  invincible  warrior. 

Khaled  now  assembled  his  captains, and  assigned 
to  them  their  different  stations.  Abu  Sofian  was 
posted  opposite  the  southern  gate.  Serjabil  oppo- 
site that  of  St.  Thomas.  Amru  before  that  of 
Paradise,  and  Kais  Ibn  Hobeirah  before  that  of 
Kaisan.  Abu  Obeidah  encamped  at  some  dis- 
tance, in  front  of  the  gate  of  Jabiyah,  and  was 
charged  to  be  strict  and  vigilant,  and  to  make  fre- 
quent assaults,  for  Khaled  knew  his  humane  and 
easy  nature.  As  to  Khaled  himself,  he  took  his 
station  and  planted  his  black  eagle  before  the 
eastern  gate. 

There  was  still  a  southern  gate,  that  of  St. 
Mark,  so  situated  that  it  was  not  practicable  to 
establish  posts  or  engage  in  skirmishes  before  it  ; 
it  was,  therefore,  termed  the  Gate  of  Peace.  As 
to  the  active  and  impetuous  Derar,  he  was  order- 
ed to  patrol  round  the  walls  and  scour  the  adja- 
cent plain  at  the  head  of  two  thousand  horse,  pro- 
tecting the  camp  from  surprise  and  preventing 
supplies  and  reinforcements  to  the  city.  "  If  you 
should  be  attacked,"  said  Khaled,  "  send  me 
word,  and  I  will  come  to  your  assistance."  "  And 
must  I  stand  peaceably  until  you  arrive  ?"  said 
Derar,  in  recollection  of  former  reproofs  of  his 
rash  contests.  "Not  so,"  rejoined  Khaled, 
"  but  fight  stoutly,  and  be  assured  I  will  not  fail 
you."  The  rest  of  the  army  were  dismounted  to 
carry  on  the  siege  on  foot. 

The  Moslems  were  now  better  equipped  for  war 
than  ever,  having  supplied  themselves  with  armor 
and  weapons  taken  in  repeated  battles.  As  yet, 
however,  they  retained  their  Arab  frugality  and 
plainness,  neglecting  the  delicate  viands,  the 
sumptuous  raiment,  and  other  luxurious  indul- 
gences of  their  enemies.  Even  Abu  Obeidah,  in 
tne  humility  of  his  spirit,  contented  himself  with 
his  primitive  Arab  tent  of  camel's  hair  ;  refusing 
the  sumptuous  tents  of  the  Christian  command- 
ers, won  in  the  recent  battle.  Such  were  the 
stern  and  simple-minded  invaders  of  the  effemi- 
nate and  sensual  nations  of  the  East. 

The  first  assaults  ot  the  Moslems  were  bravely 
repelled,  and  many  were  slain  by  darts  and  stones 
hurled  by  the  machines  from  the  wall.  The  gar- 
rison even  ventured  to  make  a  sally,  but  were 
driven  back  with  signal  slaughter.  The  siege 
was  then  pressed  with  unremitting  rigor,  until  no 
one  dared  to  venture  beyond  the  bulwarks.  The 
principal  inhabitants  now  consulted  together 
whether  it  were  not  best  to  capitulate,  while  there 
was  yet  a  chance  of  obtaining  favorable  terms. 

There  was  at  this  time  living  in  Damascus  a 
noble  Greek,  named  Thomas,  who  was  married 
to  a  daughter  of  the  emperor  Heraclius.  He  held 
no  post,  but  was  greatly  respected,  tor  he  was  a 
man  of  talents  and  consummate  courage.  In  this 
moment  of  general  depression  he  endeavored  to 
rouse  the  spirits  of  the  people  ;  representing  their 
invaders  as  despicable,  barbarous,  naked,  and 
poorly  armed,  without  discipline  or  military  ser- 
vice, and  formidable  only  through  their  mad  fa- 
naticism, and  the  panic  they  had  spread  through 
the  country. 

Finding  all  arguments  in  vain,  he  offered  to 
take  the  lead  himself,  if  they  would  venture  upon 
another  sally.  His  offer  was  accepted,  and  the 
next  morning  appointed  lor  the  effort. 

Khaled  perceived  a  stir  of  preparation  through- 
out the  night,  lights  gleaming  in  the  turrets  and 
along  the  battlements,  and  exhorted  his  men  to 
be  vigilant,  for  he  anticipated  some  desperate 
movement.  "  Let  no  man  sleep,"  said  he.  "  We 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


shall  have  rest  enough  after  death,  and  sweet  will 
be  the  repose  that  is  never  more  to  be  followed  by 
labor." 

The  Christians  were  sadly  devout  in  this  hour 
of  extremity.  At  early  dawn  the  bishop,  in  his 
robes,  proceeded  at  the  head  of  the  clergy  to  the 
gate  by  which  the  sally  was  to  be  made,  where 
he  elevated  the  cross,  and  laid  beside  it  the  New 
Testament.  As  Thomas  passed  out  at  the  gate, 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  sacred  volume.  "  Oh 
God  !"  exclaimed  he,  "  if  our  faith  be  true,  aid 
us,  and  deliver  us  not  into  the  hands  of  its  ene- 
mies." 

The  Moslems,  who  had  been  on  the  alert,  were 
advancing-  to  attack  just  at  the  time  of  the  sally, 
but  were  checked  by  a  general  discharge  from 
the  engines  on  the  wall.  Thomas  led  his  troops 
bravely  to  the  encounter,  and  the  conflict  was 
fierce  and  bloody.  He  was  a  dexterous  archer, 
and  singled  out  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  Mos- 
lems, who  fell  one  after  another  beneath  his 
shafts.  Among  others  he  wounded  Aban  Ibn 
Zeid  with  an  arrow  tipped  with  poison.  The  lat- 
ter bound  up  the  wound  with  his  turban,  and  con- 
tinued in  the  field,  but  being  overcome  by  the 
venom  was  conveyed  to  the  camp.  He  had  but 
recently  been  married  to  a  beautiful  woman  of 
the  intrepid  race  of  the  Hi'miar,  one  oi  those 
Amazons  accustomed  to  use  the  bow  and  arrow, 
and  to  mingle  in  warfare. 

Hearing  that  her  husband  was  wounded,  she 
hastened  to  his  tent,  but  before  she  could  reach  it 
he  had  expired.  She  uttered  no  lamentation,  nor 
shed  a  tear,  but,  bending  over  the  body,  "  Happy 
art  thou,  oh  my  beloved,"  said  she,  "for  thou 
art  with  Allah,  who  joined  us  but  to  part  us  from 
each  other.  But  I  will  avenge  thy  death,  and 
then  seek  to  join  thee  in  paradise.  Henceforth 
shall  no  man  touch  me  more,  for  I  dedicate  my- 
self to  Gocl." 

Then  grasping  her  husband's  bow  and  arrows, 
she  hastened  to  the  field  in  quest  of  Thomas, 
who,  she  had  been  told,  was  the  slayer  of  her 
husband.  Pressing  toward  the  place  where  he 
was  fighting,  she  let  fly  a  shaft,  which  wounded 
his  standard-bearer  in  the  hand.  The  standard 
fell,  and  was  borne  off  by  the  Moslems.  Thomas 
pursvied  it,  laying  about  him  furiously,  and  call- 
ing upon  his  men  to  rescue  their  banner.  It 
was  shifted  from  hand  to  hand  until  it  came  into 
that  of  Serjabil.  Thomas  assailed  him  with  his 
scimetar  ;  Serjabil  threw  the  standard  among  his 
troops  and  closed  with  him.  They  fought  with 
equal  ardor,  but  Thomas  was  gaining  the  advan- 
tage, when  an  arrow,  shot  by  the  wife  of  Aban, 
smote  him  in  the  eye.  He  staggered  with  the 
wound,  but  his  men,  abandoning  the  contested 
standard,  rushed  to  his  support  and  bore  him  off 
to  the  city.  He  refused  to  retire  to  his  home, 
and,  his  wound  being  dressed  on  the  ramparts, 
would  have  returned  to  the  conflict,  but  was  over- 
ruled by  the  public.  He  took  his  station,  how- 
ever, at  the  city  gate,  whence  he  could  survey 
the  field  and  issue  his  orders.  The  battle  contin- 
ued with  great  fury  ;  but  such  showers  of  stones 
and  darts  and  other  missiles  were  discharged  by 
the  Jews  from  the  engines  on  the  walls  that  the  be- 
siegers were  kept  at  a  distance.  Night  terminated 
the  conflict.  The  Moslems  returned  to  their  camp 
wearied  with  a  long  day's  fighting  ;  and,  throw- 
ing themselves  on  the  earth,  were  soon  buried  in 
profound  sleep. 

Thomas,  finding  the  courage  of  the  garrison 
roused  by  the  stand  they  had  that  day  made,  re- 
solved to  put  it  to  further  proof.  At  his  sugges- 


tion preparations  were  made  in  the  dead  of  the 
night  for  a  general  sally  at  daybreak  from  all  the 
gates  of  the  city.  At  the  signal  of  a  single  stroke 
upon  a  bell  at  the  first  peep  of  dawn,  all  the  gates 
were  thrown  open,  and  from  each  rushed  forth  a 
torrent  of  warriors  upon  the  nearest  encampment. 

So  silently  had  the  preparations  been  made 
that  the  besiegers  were  completely  taken  by  sur- 
prise. The  trumpets  sounded  alarms,  the  Mos- 
lems started  from  sleep  and  snatched  up  their 
weapons,  but  the  enemy  were  already  upon  them, 
and  struck  them  down  before  they  had  recovered 
from  their  amazement.  For  a  time  it  was  a 
slaughter  rather  than  a  fight,  at  the  various  sta- 
tions. Khaled  is  said  to  have  shed  tears  at  be- 
holding the  carnage.  "  Oh  thou,  who  never 
sleepest  !"  cried  he,  in  the  agony  of  his  heart, 
"  aid  thy  faithful  servants  ;  let  them  not  fall  be- 
neath the  weapons  of  these  infidels."  Then,  fol- 
lowed by  four  hundred  horsemen,  he  spurred 
about  the  field  wherever  relief  was  most  needed. 

The  hottest  of  the  fight  was  opposite  the  gate 
whence  Thomas  had  sallied.  Here  Serjabil  had 
his  station,  and  fought  with  undaunted  valor. 
Near  him  was  the  intrepid  wife  of  Aban,  doing 
deadly  execution  with  her  shafts.  She  had  ex- 
pended all  but  one,  when  a  Greek  soldier  attempt- 
ed to  seize  her.  In  an  instant  the  arrow  was  sped 
through  his  throat,  and  laid  him  dead  at  her  feet ; 
but  she  was  now  weaponless,  and  was  taken  pris- 
oner. 

At  the  same  time  Serjabil  and  Thomas  were 
again  engaged  hand  to  hand  with  equal  valor  ; 
but  the  scimetar  of  Serjabil  broke  on  the  buckler 
of  his  adversary,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  be- 
ing slain  or  captured,  when  Khaled  and  Abda'l- 
rahman  galloped  up  with  a  troop  of  horse. 
Thomas  was  obliged  to  take  reluge  in  the  city, 
and  Serjabil  and  the  Amazonian  widow  were  res- 
cued. 

The  troops  who  sallied  out  at  the  gate  of  Ja- 
beyah  met  with  the  severest  treatment.  The 
meek  Abu  Obeidah  was  stationed  in  front  of  that 
gate,  and  was  slumbering  quietly  in  his  hair  tent 
at  the  time  of  the  sally.  His  first  care  in  the  mo- 
ment of  alarm  was  to  repeat  the  morning  prayer. 
He  then  ordered  forth  a  body  of  chosen  men  to 
keep  the  enemy  at  bay,  and  while  they  were  fight- 
ing, led  another  detachment,  silently  but  rapidly, 
round  between  the  combatants  and  the  city.  The 
Greeks  thus  suddenly  found  themselves  assailed 
in  front  and  rear  ;  they  fought  desperately,  but 
so  successful  was  the  stratagem,  and  so  active 
the  valor  of  the  meek  Abu  Obeidah,  when  once 
aroused,  that  never  a  man,  says  the  Arabian  his- 
torian, that  sallied  from  that  gate,  returned 
again. 

The  battle  of  the  night  was  almost  as  sanguin- 
ary as  that  of  the  day  ;  the  Christians  were  re- 
pulsed in  all  quarters,  and  driven  once  more  within 
their  walls,  leaving  several  thousand  dead  upon 
the  field.  The  Moslems  followed  them  to  the  very 
gates,  but  were  compelled  to  retire  by  the  deadly 
shower  hurled  by  the  Jews  from  the  engines  on 
the  walls. 


CHAPTER  X. 

SURRENDER  OF  DAMASCUS — DISPUTES  OF  THE 
SARACEN  GENERALS— DEPARTURE  OF  THOMAS 
AND  THE  EXILES. 

FOR  seventy  days  had  Damascus  been  besieged 
by  the  fanatic  legions  of  the  desert  :  the  inhabi- 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


tants  had  no  longer  the  heart  to  make  further 
sallies,  but  again  began  to  talk  of  capitulating. 
It  was  in  vain  that  Thomas  urged  them  to  have 
patience  until  he  should  write  to  the  emperor  for 
succor  ;  they  listened  only  to  their  fears,  and  sent 
to  Khaled  begging  a  truce,  that  they  might  have 
time  to  treat  ot  a  surrender.  That  fierce  warrior 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  their  prayer  :  he  wished  for 
no  surrender,  that  would  protect  the  lives  and 
property  of  the  besieged  ;  he  was  bent  upon  tak- 
ing the  city  by  the  sword,  and  giving  it  up  to  be 
plundered  by  his  Arabs. 

In  their  extremity  the  people  of  Damascus  turn- 
ed to  the  good  Abu  Obeidah,  whom  they  knew  to 
be  meek  and  humane.  Having  first  treated  with 
him  by  a  messenger  who  understood  Arabic,  and 
received  his  promise  of  security,  a  hundred  of  the 
principal  inhabitants,  including  the  most  vener- 
able of  the  clergy,  issued  privately  one  night  by 
the  gate  of  Jabiyah,  and  sought  his  presence. 
They  found  this  leader  of  a  mighty  force,  that 
was  shaking  the  empire  of  the  Orient,  living  in  a 
humble  tent  of  hair-cloth,  like  a  mere  wanderer 
of  the  desert.  He  listened  favorably  to  their  prop- 
ositions, for  his  object  was  conversion  rather  than 
conquest  ;  tribute  rather  than  plunder.  A  cove- 
nant was  soon  written,  in  which  he  engaged  that 
hostilities  should  cease  on  their  delivering  the 
city  into  his  hands  ;  that  such  of  the  inhabitants 
as  pleased  might  depart  in  safety  with  as  much 
of  their  effects  as  they  could  carry,  and  those  who 
remained  as  tributaries  should  retain  their  prop- 
erty, and  have  seven  churches  allotted  to  them. 
This  covenant  was  not  signed  by  Abu  Obeidah, 
not  being  commander-in-chief,  but  he  assured 
the  envoys  it  would  be  held  sacred  by  the  Mos- 
lems. 

The  capitulation  being  arranged,  and  hostages 
given  for  the  good  faith  of  the  besieged,  the  gate 
opposite  to  the  encampment  of  Abu  Obeidah  was 
thrown  open,  and  the  venerable  chief  entered  at 
the  head  of  a  hundred  men  to  take  possession. 

While  these  transactions  were  taking  place  at 
the  gate  of  Jabiyah,  a  different  scene  occurred  at 
the  eastern  gate.  Khaled  was  exasperated  by 
the  death  of  a  brother  of  Amru,  shot  from  the 
walls  with  a  poisoned  arrow.  In  the  height  ot 
his  indignation,  an  apostate  priest,  named  Josias, 
undertook  to  deliver  the  gate  into  his  hands,  on 
condition  of  security  of  person  and  property  for 
himself  and  his  relatives. 

By  means  of  this  traitor,  a  hundred  Arabs  were 
secretly  introduced  within  the  walls,  who,  rush- 
ing to  the  eastern  gate,  broke  the  bolts  and  bars 
and  chains  by  which  it  was  fastened,  and  threw 
it  open  with  the  signal  shout  ot  Allah  Achbar  ! 

Khaled  and  his  legions  poured  in  at  the  gate 
with  sound  of  trumpet  and  tramp  of  steed  ;  put- 
ting all  to  the  sword,  and  deluging  the  streets 
with  blood.  "Mercy!  Mercy!"  was  the  cry. 
"  No  mercy  for  infidels  !"  was  Khaled's  fierce 
response. 

He  pursued  his  career  of  carnage  into  the  great 
square  before  the  church  of  the  Virgin  Mary. 
Here,  to  his  astonishment,  he  beheld  Abu  Obe'i- 
dah  and  his  attendants,  their  swords  sheathed, 
and  marching  in  solemn  procession  with  priests 
and  monks  and  the  principal  inhabitants,  and  sur- 
rounded by  women  and  children. 

Abu  Obeidah  saw  fury  and  surprise  in  the  looks 
of  Khaled,  and  hastened  to  propitiate  him  by 
gentle  words.  "Allah  in  his  mercv,"  said  he, 
"  has  delivered  this  city  into  my  hands  by  peace- 
ful surrender  ;  sparing  the  effusion  of  blood  and 
the  necessity  of  fighting." 


"Not  so,"  cried  Khaled  in   a  fury.     "I  have 
won  it  with  this  sword,  and  I  grant  no  quarter." 
"  But  I  have  given  the  inhabitants  a  covenant 
written  with  my  own  hand." 

"  And  what  right  had  you,"  demanded  Kha- 
led, "  to  grant  a  capitulation  without  consulting 
me  ?  Am  not  I  the  general  ?  Yes,  by  Allah  ! 
and  to  prove  it  I  will  put  every  inhabitant  to  the 
sword." 

Abu  Obeidah  felt  that  in  point  of  military  duty 
he  had  erred,  but  he  sought  to  pacify  Khaled, 
assuring  him  he  had  intended  all  for  the  best,  and 
felt  sure  of  his  approbation,  entreating  him  to  re- 
spect the  covenant  he  had  made  in  the  name  of 
God  and  the  prophet,  and  with  the  approbation 
of  all  the  Moslems  present  at  the  transaction. 

Several  of  the  Moslem  officers  seconded  Abu 
Obeidah,  and  endeavored  to  persuade  Khaled  to 
agree  to  the  capitulation.  While  he  hesitated, 
his  troops,  impatient  of  delay,  resumed  the  work 
ot  massacre  and  pillage. 

The  patience  of  the  good  Abu  Obeidah  was  at 
an  end.  "  By  Allah  !"  cried  he,  "  my  word  is 
treated  as  nought,  and  my  covenant  is  trampled 
under  foot  !" 

Spurring  his  horse  among  the  marauders,  he 
commanded  them,  in  the  name  of  the  prophet,  to 
desist  until  he  and  Khaled  should  have  time  to 
settle  their  dispute.  The  name  of  the  prophet 
had  its  effect  ;  the  soldiery  paused  in  their  bloody 
career,  and  the  two  generals  with  their  officers 
retired  to  the  church  of  the  Virgin. 

Here, after  a  sharp  altercation,  Khaled,  callous  to 
all  claims  of  justice  and  mercy,  was  brought  to  lis- 
ten to  policy.  It  was  represented  to  him  that  he  was 
invading  a  country  where  many  cities  were  yet  t< 
be  taken  ;  that  it  was  important  to  respect  th- 
capitulations  of  his  generals,  even  though  the, 
might  not  be  altogether  to  his  mind  ;  otherwise 
the  Moslem  word  would  cease  to  be  trusted,  and 
other  cities,  warned  by  the  fate  of  Damascus, 
instead  of  surrendering  on  favorable  terms,  might 
turn  a  deaf  ear  to  all  offers  of  mercy  and  fight 
to  the  last  extremity. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  Abu 
Obeidah  wrung  from  the  iron  soul  of  Khaled  a 
slow  consent  to  his  capitulation,  on  condition 
that  the  whole  matter  should  be  referred  to  the 
Caliph.  At  every  article  he  paused  and  mur- 
mured. He  would  fain  have  inflicted  death  upon 
Thomas,  and  another  leader  named  Herbis,  but 
Abu  Obeidah  insisted  that  they  were  expressly  in- 
cluded in  the  covenant. 

Proclamation  was  then  made  that  such  of  the 
inhabitants  as  chose  to  remain  tributaries  to  the 
Caliph  should  enjoy  the  exercise  of  their  religion  ; 
the  rest  were  permitted  to  depart.  The  greater 
part  preferred  to  remain  ;  but  some  determined 
to  follow  their  champion  Thomas  to  Antioch. 
The  latter  prayed  fora  passport  or  a  safe-conduct 
through  the  country  controlled  by  the  Moslems. 
After  much  difficulty  Khaled  granted  them  three 
days'  grace,  during  which  they  should  be  safe  from 
molestation  or  pursuit,  on  condition  they  took 
nothing  with  them  but  provisions. 

Here  the  worthy  Abu  Obeidah  interfered,  de- 
claring that  he  had  covenanted  to  let  them  go 
forth  with  bag  and  baggage.  "  Then,"  said 
Khaled,  "  they  shall  go  unarmed."  Again  Abu 
Obeidah  interfered,  and  Khaled  at  length  con- 
sented that  they  should  have  arms  sufficient  to 
defend  themselves  against  robbers  and  wild 
beasts  ;  he,  however,  who  had  a  lance,  should 
have  no  sword  ;  and  he  who  had  a  bow  should 
have  no  lance. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


95 


Thomas  and  Herbis,  who  were  to  conduct  this 
Unhappy  caravan,  pitched  their  tents  in  the 
meadow  adjacent  to  the  city,  whither  all  repaired 
who  were  to  follow  them  into  exile,  each  laden 
with  plate,  jewels,  silken  stuffs,  and  whatever  was 
most  precious  and  least  burdensome.  Among 
other  things  was  a  wardrobe  of  the  emperor  Her- 
aclius,  in  which  there  were  above  three  hundred 
loads  of  costly  silks  and  cloth  of  gold. 

All  being  assembled,  the  sad  multitude  set  forth 
on  their  wayfaring.  Those  who  from  pride,  from 
patriotism,  or  from  religion,  thus  doomed  them- 
selves to  poverty  and  exile,  were  among  the  no- 
blest and  most  highly  bred  of  the  land  ;  people 
accustomed  to  soft  and  luxurious  life,  and  to  the 
silken  abodes  of  palaces.  Of  this  number  was 
the  wife  of  Thomas,  a  daughter  of  the  emperor 
Heraclius,  who  was  attended  by  her  maidens.  It 
was  a  piteous  sight  to  behold  aged  men,  delicate 
and  shrinking  women,  and  helpless  children, 
thus  setting  forth  on  a  wandering  journey  through 
wastes  and  deserts,  and  rugged  mountains,  in- 
fested by  savage  hordes.  Many  a  time  did  they 
turn  to  cast  a  look  of  fondness  and  despair  on 
those  sumptuous  palaces  and  delightful  gardens, 
once  their  pride  and  joy  ;  and  still  would  they 
turn  and  weep,  and  beat  their  breasts,  and  gaze 
through  their  tears  on  the  stately  towers  of  Da- 
mascus, and  the  flowery  banks  of  the  Pharpar. 

Thus  terminated  the  hard-contested  siege  of 
Damascus,  which  Voltaire  has  likened  for  its 
stratagems,  skirmishes,  and  single  combats  to 
Homer's  siege  of  Troy.  More  than  twelve  months 
elapsed  between  the  time  the  Saracens  first  pitch- 
ed their  tents  before  it  and  the  day  of  its  surrender. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

STORY  OF  JONAS  AND  EUDOCEA — PURSUIT  OF 
THE  EXILES— DEATH  OF  THE  CALIPH  ABU  BE- 
KER. 

IT  is  recorded  that  Derar  gnashed  his  teeth 
with  rage  at  seeing  the  multitude  of  exiles  depart- 
ing in  peace,  laden  with  treasures,  which  he  con- 
sidered as  so  much  hard-earned  spoil,  lost  to  the 
faithful  ;  but  what  most  incensed  him  was,  that 
so  many  unbelievers  should  escape  the  edge  of 
the  scimetar.  Khaled  would  have  been  equally 
indignant,  but  that  he  had  secretly  covenanted 
with  himself  to  regain  this  booty.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  ordered  his  men  to  refresh  themselves 
and  their  horses,  and  be  in  readiness  for  action, 
resolving  to  pursue  the  exiles  when  the  three  days 
of  grace  should  have  expired. 

A  dispute  with  Abu  Obeidah  concerning  a 
quantity  of  grain,  which  the  latter  claimed  for 
the  citizens,  detained  him  one  day  longer,  and  he 
was  about  to  abandon  the  pursuit  as  hopeless, 
when  a  guide  presented  himself  who  knew  all  the 
country,  and  the  shortest  passes  through  the 
mountains.  The  story  of  this  guide  is  worthy  of 
notice,  as  illustrating  the  character  of  these  peo- 
ple and  these  wars. 

During  the  siege  Derar,  as  has  been  related,  was 
appointed  to  patrol  round  the  city  and  the  camp 
with  two  thousand  horse.  As  a  party  of  these 
were  one  night  going  their  rounds,  near  the  walls, 
they  heard  the  distant  neighing  of  a  horse,  and 
looking  narrowly  round,  descried  a  horseman 
coming  stealthily  from  the  gate  Keisan.  Halting 
in  a  shadowy  place,  they  waited  until  he  came 


close  to  them,  when,  rushing  forth,  they  made 
him  prisoner.  He  was  a  youthful  Syrian,  richly 
and  gallantly  arrayed,  and  apparently  a  person 
of  distinction.  Scarcely  had  they  seized  him  when 
they  beheld  another  horseman  issuing  from  the 
same  gate,  who  in  a  soft  voice  called  upon  their 
captive,  by  the  name  of  Jonas.  They  commanded 
the  latter  to  invite  his  companion  to  advance.  He 
seemed  to  reply,  and  called  out  something  in 
Greek  :  upon  hearing  which  the  other  turned  bri- 
dle and  galloped  back  into  the  city.  The  Arabs, 
ignorant  of  Greek,  and  suspecting  the  words  to 
be  a  warning,  would  have  slain  their  prisoner  on 
the  spot  ;  but  upon  second  thoughts,  conducted 
him  to  Khaled. 

The  youth  avowed  himself  a  nobleman  of  Da- 
mascus, and  betrothed  to  a  beautiful  maiden 
named  Eudocea  ;  but  her  parents,  from  some  ca- 
pricious reason,  had  withdrawn  their  consent  to 
his  nuptials  ;  whereupon  the  lovers  had  secretly 
agreed  to  fly  from  Damascus.  A  sum  of  gold 
had  bribed  the  sentinels  who  kept  watch  that 
night  at  the  gate.  The  damsel,  disguised  in  male 
attire,  and  accompanied  by  two  domestics,  was 
following  her  lover  at  a  distance,  as  he  sallied  in 
advance.  His  reply  in  Greek  when  she  called 
upon  him  was,  "  The  bird  is  caught  !"  a  warning 
at  the  hearing  of  which  she  had  rled  back  to  the 
city. 

Khaled  was  not  the  man  to  be  moved  by  a  love 
tale  ;  but  he  gave  the  prisoner  his  alternative. 
"  Embrace  the  faith  of  Islam,"  said  he,  "  and 
when  Damascus  falls  into  our  power,  you  shall 
have  your  betrothed  ;  refuse,  and  your  head  is 
forfeit." 

The  youth  paused  not  between  a  scimetar  and 
a  bride.  He  made  immediate  profession  of  faith 
between  the  hands  of  Khaled,  and  thenceforth 
fought  zealously  for  the  capture  of  the  city,  since 
its  downfall  was  to  crown  his  hopes. 

When  Damascus  yielded  to  its  foes,  he  sought 
the  dwelling  of  Eudocea,  and  learnt  a  new  proof 
of  her  affection.  Supposing,  on  his  capture  by 
the  Arabs,  that  he  had  fallen  a  martyr  to  his 
faith,  she  had  renounced  the  world,  and  shut  her- 
self up  in  a  convent.  With  throbbing  heart  he 
hastened  to  the  convent,  but  when  the  lofty-mind- 
ed maiden  beheld  in  him  a  renegade,  she  turned 
from  him  with  scorn,  retired  to  her  cell,  and  re- 
fused to  see  him  more.  She  was  among  the  no- 
ble ladies  who  followed  Thomas  and  Herbis  into 
exile.  Her  lover,  frantic  at  the  thoughts  of  los- 
ing her,  reminded  Khaled  of  his  promise  to  re- 
store her  to  him,  and  entreated  that  she  might  be 
detained  ;  but  Khaled  pleaded  the  covenant  of 
Abu  Obeidah,  according  to  which  all  had  free 
leave  to  depart. 

When  Jonas  afterward  discovered  that  Khaled 
meditated  a  pursuit  of  the  exiles,  but  was  discour- 
aged by  the  lapse  of  time,  he  offered  to  conduct 
him  by  short  and  secret  passes  through  the 
mountains,  which  would  insure  his  overtaking 
them.  His  offer  was  accepted.  On  the  fourth 
day  after  the  departure  of  the  exiles,  Khaled  set 
out  in  pursuit,  with  four  thousand  chosen  horse- 
men ;  who,  by  the  advice  of  Jonas,  were  disguised 
as  Christian  Arabs.  For  some  time  they  traced 
the  exiles  along  the  plains,  by  the  numerous  foot- 
prints of  mules  and  camels,  and  by  articles  thrown 
away  to  enable  them  to  travel  more  expeditiously. 
At  length  the  footprints  turned  toward  the  moun- 
tains of  Lebanon,  and  were  lost  in  their  arid  and 
rocky  defiles.  The  Moslems  began  to  falter. 
"  Courage  !"  cried  Jonas,"  they  will  be  entangled 
among  the  mountains.  They  cannot  now  escape." 


96 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


They  continued  their  weary  course,  stopping 
only  at  the  stated  hours  of  prayer.  They  had 
now  to  climb  the  high  and  cragged  passes  of  Leb- 
anon, along  rifts  and  glens  worn  by  winter  tor- 
rents. The  horses  struck  fire  at  every  tramp  ; 
they  cast  their  shoes,  their  hoofs  were  battered  on 
the  rocks,  and  many  of  them  were  lamed  and  dis- 
abled. The  horsemen  dismounted  and  scrambled 
up  on  foot,  leading  their  weary  and  crippled 
steeds.  Their  clothes  were  worn  to  shreds,  and 
the  soles  of  their  iron-shod  boots  were  torn  from 
the  upper  leathers.  The  men  murmured  and  re- 
pined ;  never  in  all  their  marches  had  they  ex- 
perienced such  hardships  ;  they  insisted  on  halt- 
ing, to  rest  and  to  bait  their  horses.  Even  Kha- 
led,  whose  hatred  of  infidels  furnished  an  impulse 
almost  equal  to  the  lover's  passion,  began  to 
flag,  and  reproached  the  renegade  as  the  cause  of 
all  this  trouble. 

Jonas  still  urged  them  forward  :  he  pointed  to 
fresh  footprints  and  tracks  of  horses  that  must 
have  recently  passed.  After  a  few  hours'  refresh- 
ment they  resumed  the  pursuit  ;  passing  within 
sight  of  Jabalah  and  Laodicea,  but  without  ven- 
turing within  their  gates,  lest  the  disguise  of 
Christian  Arabs,  which  deceived  the  simple  peas- 
antry, might  not  avail  with  the  shrewder  inhabi- 
tants of  the  towns. 

Intelligence  received  from  a  country  boor  in- 
creased the'ir  perplexity.  The  emperor  Herac- 
lius,  fearing  that  the  arrival  of  the  exiles  might 
cause  a  panic  at  Antioch,  had  sent  orders  lor 
them  to  proceed  along  the  sea-coast  to  Constanti- 
nople. This  gave  their  pursuers  a  greater  chance 
to  overtake  them  ;  but  Khaled  was  startled  at 
learning,  in  addition,  that  troops  were  assembling 
to  be  sent  against  him,  and  that  but  a  single 
mountain  separated  him  from  them.  He  now 
feared  they  might  intercept  his  return,  or  fall 
upon  Damascus  in  his  absence.  A  sinister  dream 
added  to  his  uneasiness,  but  it  was  favorably  in- 
terpreted by  Abda'lrahman,  and  he  continued  the 
pursuit. 

A  tempestuous  night  closed  on  them  :  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents,  and  man  and  beast  were  ready  to 
sink  with  fatigue  ;  still  they  were  urged  forward  : 
the  fugitives  could  not  be  far  distant,  the  enemy 
was  at  hand  :  they  must  snatch  their  prey  and 
retreat.  The  morning  dawned  ;  the  storm  cleared 
up,  and  the  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  surround- 
ing heights.  They  dragged  their  steps  wearily, 
however,  along  the  defiles,  now  swept  by  torrents 
orNfilled  with  mire,  until  the  scouts  in  the  advance 
gave  joyful  signal  from  the  mountain  brow.  It 
commanded  a  grassy  meadow,  sprinkled  with 
flowers,  and  watered  by  a  running  stream. 

On  the  borders  of  the  rivulet  was  the  caravan 
of  exiles,  reposing  in  the  sunshine  from  the  fa- 
tigues of  the  recent  storm.  Some  were  sleeping 
on  the  grass,  others  were  taking  their  morning 
repast ;  while  the  meadow  was  gay  with  embroid- 
ered robes  and  silks  of  various  dyes  spread  out 
to  dry  upon  the  herbage.  The  weary  Moslems, 
worn  out  with  the  horrors  of  the  mountains, 
gazed  with  delight  on  the  sweetness  and  fresh- 
ness of  the  meadow  ;  but  Khaled  eyed  the  cara- 
van with  an  eager  eye,  and  the  lover  only  stretch- 
ed his  gaze  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  his  betrothed 
among  the  females  reclining  on  the  margin  of  the 
stream. 

Having  cautiously  reconnoitred  the  caravan 
without  being  perceived,  Khaled  disposed  of  his 
band  in  four  squadrons  ;  the  first  commanded  by 
Derar,  the  second  by  Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah,  the  third 
by  Abda'lrahman,  and  the  fourth  led  by  himself. 


He  gave  orders  that  the  squadrons  should  make 
their  appearance  successively,  one  at  a  time,  to 
deceive  the  enemy  as  to  their  force,  and  that  tbere 
should  be  no  pillaging  until  the  victory  was  com- 
plete. 

Having  offered  up  a  prayer,  he  gave  the  word 
to  his  division,  "  In  the  name  of  Allah  and  the 
prophet  !"  and  led  to  the  attack.  The  Christians 
were  roused  from  their  repose  on  beholding  a 
squadron  rushing  down  from  the  mountain.  They 
were  deceived  at  first  by  the  Greek  dresses,  but 
were  soon  aware  of  the  truth  ;  though  the  small 
number  of  the  enemy  gave  them  but  little  dread. 
Thomas  hastily  marshalled  five  thousand  men  to 
receive  the  shock  of  the  onset,  with  such  weapons 
as  had  been  left  them.  Another  and  another  di- 
vision came  hurrying  down  from  the  mountain  ; 
and  the  fight  was  furious  and  well  contested. 
Thomas  and  Khaled  fought  hand  to  hand  ;  but 
the  Christian  champion  was  struck  to  the  ground. 
Abda'lrahman  cut  off  his  head,  elevated  it  on  the 
spear  of  the  standard  of  the  cross  which  he  had 
taken  at  Damascus,  and  called  upon  the  Chris- 
tians to  behold  the  head  of  their  leader. 

Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah  penetrated  with  his  division 
into  the  midst  of  the  encampment  to  capture  the 
women.  They  stood  courageously  on  the  defen- 
sive, hurling  stones  at  their  assailants.  Among 
them  was  a  female  of  matchless  beauty,  dressed 
in  splendid  attire,  with  a  diadem  of  jewels.  It 
was  the  reputed  daughter  of  the  emperor,  the 
wife  of  Thomas.  Rafi  attempted  to  seize  her,  but 
she  hurled  a  stone  that  struck  his  horse  in  the 
head  and  killed  him.  The  Arab  drew  his  scime- 
tar,  and  would  have  slain  her,  but  she  cried  for 
mercy,  so  he  took  her  prisoner,  and  gave  her  in 
charge  to  a  trusty  follower. 

In  the  midst  of  the  carnage  and  confusion  Jo- 
nas hastened  in  search  of  his  betrothed.  If  she 
had  treated  him  with  disdain  as  a  renegade,  she 
now  regarded  him  wyith  horror,  as  the  traitor  who 
had  b'rought  this  destruction  upon  his  unhappy 
countrymen.  All  his  entreaties  for  her  to  forgive 
and  be  reconciled  to  him  were  of  no  avail.  She  sol- 
emnly vowed  to  repair  to  Constantinople  and  end 
her  days  in  a  convent.  Finding  supplication  fruit- 
less, he  seized  her,  and  after  a  violent  struggle, 
threw  her  on  the  ground  and  made  her  prisoner. 
She  made  no  further  resistance,  but  submitting 
to  captivity,  seated  herself  quietly  on  the  grass. 
The  lover  flattered  himself  that  she  relented  ;  but 
watching  her  opportunity,  she  suddenly  drew 
forth  a  poniard,  plunged  it  in  her  breast,  and  fell 
dead  at  his  feet. 

While  this  tragedy  was  performing  the  general 
battle,  or  rather  carnage,  continued.  Khaled 
ranged  the  field  in  quest  of  Herbis,  but,  while 
fighting  pell-mell  among  a  throng  of  Christians, 
that  commander  came  behind  him  and  dealt  a 
blow  that  severed  his  helmet,  and  would  have 
cleft  his  skull  but  for  the  lolds  of  his  turban. 
The  sword  of  Herbis  fell  from  his  hand  with  the 
violence  of  the  blow,  and  before  he  could  recover 
it  he  was  cut  in  pieces  by  the  followers  of  Kha- 
led. The  struggle  of  the  unhappy  Christians  was 
at  an  end  :  all  were  slain,  or  taken  prisoners,  ex- 
cept one,  who  was  permitted  to  depart,  and  who 
bore  the  dismal  tidings  of  the  massacre  to  Con- 
stantinople. 

The  renegade  Jonas  was  loud  in  his  lamenta- 
tions for  the  loss  of  his  betrothed,  but  his  Moslem 
comrades  consoled  him  with  one  of  the  doctrines 
of  the  faith  he  had  newly  embraced.  "  It  was 
written  in  the  book  of  fate,"  said  they,  "  that  you 
should  never  possess  that  woman  ;  but  be  com- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


97 


forted  ;  Allah  has  doubtless  greater  blessings  in 
store  for  you  ;"  and,  in  fact,  Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah, 
out  of  compassion  for  his  distress,  presented  him 
with  the  beautiful  princess  he  had  taken  captive. 
Khaled  consented  to  the  gift,  provided  the  em- 
peror did  not  send  to  ransom  her. 

There  was  now  no  time  to  be  lost.  In  this  head- 
long pursuit  they  had  penetrated  above  a  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  into  the  heart  ot  the  enemy's  coun- 
try, and  might  be  cut  off  in  their  retreat.  "  To 
horse  and  away,"  therefore,  was  the  word.  The 
plunder  was  hastily  packed  upon  the  mules,  the 
scanty  number  of  surviving  exiles  were  secured, 
and  the  marauding  band  set  off  on  a  forced  march 
for  Damascus.  While  on  their  way  they  were  one 
day  alarmed  by  a  cloud  of  dust,  through  which 
their  scouts  descried  the  banner  of  the  cross. 
They  prepared  for  a  desperate  conflict.  It  proved, 
however,  a  peaceful  mission.  An  ancient  bishop, 
followed  by  a  numerous  train,  sought  from  Khaled, 
in  the  emperor's  name,  the  liberation  of  his 
daughter.  The  haughty  Saracen  released  her 
without  ransom.  "Take  her,"  said  he,  "but 
tell  your  master  I  intend  to  have  him  in  exchange  ; 
never  will  I  cease  this  war  until  I  have  wrested 
from  him  every  foot  of  territory." 

To  indemnify  the  renegade  for  this  second 
deprivation,  a  large  sum  of  gold  was  given  him, 
wherewith  to  buy  a  wife  from  among  the  captives  ; 
but  he  now  disclaimed  forever  all  earthly  love,  and, 
like  a  devout  Mahometan,  looked  forward  for  con- 
solation among  the  black-eyed  Hourisof  paradise. 
He  continued  more  faithful  to  his  new  faith  and 
new  companions  than  he  had  been  to  the  religion 
of  his  fathers  and  the  friends  of  his  infancy  ;  and 
after  serving  the  Saracens  in  a  variety  of  ways, 
earned  an  undoubted  admission  to  the  paradise  of 
the  prophet,  being  shot  through  the  breast  at  the 
battle  of  Yermouk. 

Thus  perished  this  apostate,  says  the  Christian 
chronicler  ;  but  Ahvakedi,  the  venerable  Cadi  of 
Bagdad,  adds  a  supplement  to  the  story,  lor  the 
encouragement  of  all  proselytes  to  the  Islam  faith. 
He  states  that  Jonas,  after  his  death,  was  seen  in 
a  vision  by  Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah,  arrayed  in  rich 
robes  and  golden  sandals,  and  walking  in  a  flowery 
mead  ;  and  the  beatified  renegade  assured  him 
that,  for  his  exemplary  services,  Allah  had  given 
him  seventy  of  the  black-eyed  damsels  of  para- 
dise, each  of  resplendent  beauty,  sufficient  to 
throw  the  sun  and  moon  in  the  shade.  Rafi  related 
his  vision  to  Khaled,  who  heard  it  with  implicit 
faith.  "  This  it  is,"  said  that  Moslem  zealot,  "  to 
die  a  martyr  to  the  faith.  Happy  the  man  to 
whose  lot  it  falls  !"* 

Khaled  succeeded  in  leading  his  adventurous 
band  safely  back  to  Damascus,  where  they  were 
joyfully  received  by  their  companions  in  arms, 
who  had  entertained  great  fears  for  their  safety. 
He  now  divided  the  rich  spoils  taken  in  his  expe- 
dition ;  four  parts  were  given  to  the  officers  and 
soldiers,  a  fifth  he  reserved  for  the  public  treas- 
ury, and  sent  it  off  to  the  Caliph,  with  letters  in- 
forming him  of  the  capture  of  Damascus  ;  of  his 
disputes  with  Abu  Obeidah  as  to  the  treatment  of 
the  city  and  its  inhabitants,  and  lastly  of  his  expe- 
dition in  pursuit  of  the  exiles,  and  his  recovery  of 
the  wealth  they  were  bearing  away.  These  mis- 
sives were  sent  in  the  confident  expectation  that 


*  The  story  of  Jonas  and  Eudocea  has  been  made 
the  subject  of  an  English  tragedy  by  Hughes,  entitled 
The  Siege  of  Damascus  ;  but  the  lover's  name  is 
changed  to  Phocyas,  the  incidents  are  altered,  and  the 
catastrophe  is  made  entirely  different. 


his  policy  of  the  sword  would  far  outshine,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  Caliph,  and  of  all  true  Moslems, 
the  more  peaceful  policy  of  Abu  Obeidah. 

It  was  written  in  the  book  of  fate,  say  the  Ara- 
bian historians,  that  the  pious  Abu  Beker  should 
die  without  hearing  of  the  brightest  triumph  of  the 
Islam  faith  ;  the  very  day  that  Damascus  sur- 
rendered the  Caliph  breathed  his  last  at  Medina. 
Arabian  authors  differ  as  to  the  cause  of  his 
death.  Abulfeda  asserts  that  he  was  poisoned  by 
the  Jews,  in  his  frugal  repast  of  rice  ;  but  his 
daughter  Ayesha,  with  more  probability,  ascribes 
his  death  to  bathing  on  an  unusually  cold  day, 
which  threw  him  into  a  fever.  While  struggling 
with  his  malady,  he  directed  his  chosen  friend 
Omar  to  perform  the  religious  functions  of  his 
office  in  his  stead. 

Feeling  his  end  approaching,  he  summoned  his 
secretary,  Othman  Ibn  Affan,  and  in  presence 
of  several  of  the  principal  Moslems,  dictated  as 
follows  :  "  I,  Abu  Beker  Ibn  Abu  Kahafa,  being 
on  the  point  of  leaving  this  world  for  the  next, 
and  at  that  moment  when  infidels  believe,  when 
the  wicked  cease  to  doubt,  and  when  liars  speak 
the  truth,  do  make  this  declaration  of  my  will  to 
the  Moslems.  I  nominate  as  my  successor" — 
Here  he  was  overtaken  with  faintness  so  that  he 
could  not  speak.  Othman,  who  knew  his  inten- 
tions, added  the  name  of  Omar  Ibn  al  Khattab. 
When  Abu  Beker  came  to  himself,  and  saw  what 
his  secretary  had  written,  "  God  bless  thee,"  said 
he,  "  for  this  foresight  !"  He  then  continued  to 
dictate.  "  Listen  to  him,  and  obey  him,  for,  as  far 
as  I  know  him,  and  have  seen  him,  he  is  integrity 
itself.  He  is  competent  to  everything  he  under- 
takes. He  will  rule  with  justice  ;  if  not,  God, 
who  knows  all  secrets,  will  reward  him  according 
to  his  works.  I  mean  all  for  the  best,  but  I  can- 
not see  into  the  hidden  thoughts  of  men.  Fare- 
well. Act  uprightly,  and  the  blessing  of  Allah 
be  upon  you." 

He  ordered  this  testament  to  be  sealed  with  his 
seal,  and  copies  ot  it  to  be  sent  to  the  principal 
authorities,  civil  and  military.  Then,  having  sent 
for  Omar,  he  told  him  of  his  having  nominated 
him  as  his  successor. 

Omar  was  a  stern  and  simple-minded  man  ; 
unambitious  of  posts  and  dignities.  "  Oh  suc- 
cessor to  the  apostle  of  God  !"  said  he,  "  spare 
me  from  this  burden.  I  have  no  need  of  the 
Caliphat."  "  But  the  Caliphathas  need  of  you  !" 
replied  the  dying  Abu  Beker. 

He  went  on  to  claim  his  acceptance  of  the 
office  as  a  proof  of  friendship  to  himself,  and  of 
devotion  to  the  public  good,  for  he  considered 
him  eminently  calculated  to  maintain  an  undi- 
vided rule  over  the  restless  people  so  newly  con- 
gregated into  an  empire.  Having  brought  him 
to  accept,  he  gave  him  much  dying  counsel,  and 
after  he  had  retired,  prayed  fervently  for  his  suc- 
cess, and  that  the  dominion  of  the  faith  might  be 
strengthened  and  extended  during  his  reign. 
Having  thus  provided  for  a  quiet  succession  to 
his  office,  the  good  Caliph  expired  in  the  arms  of 
his  daughter  Ayesha,  in  the  sixty-fourth  year  of 
his  age,  having  reigned  two  years,  three  months, 
and  nine  days.  At  the  time  of  his  death  his  father 
and  mother  were  still  living,  the  former  ninety- 
seven  years  of  age.  When  the  ancient  Moslem 
heard  of  the  death  of  his  son,  he  merely  said,  in 
scriptural  phrase,  "  The  Lord  hath  given,  and 
the  Lord  hath  taken  away.  Blessed  be  the  name 
of  the  Lord  !' ' 

Abu  Beker  had  four  wives  ;  the  last  had  been 
the  widow  of  Jaafar,  who  fell  in  the  battlte  of 


98 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


Muta.  She  bore  him  two  sons  after  his  sixtieth 
year.  He  does  not  appear,  however,  to  have  had 
the  same  fondness  for  the  sex  as  the  prophet,  not- 
withstanding his  experience  in  wedlock.  The 
women,"  he  used  to  say,  "are  all  an  evil  ;  but 
the  greatest  evil  of  all  is,  that  they  are  necessary.' 
Abu  Beker  was  universally  lamented  by  his 
subjects,  and  he  deserved  their  lamentations,  for 
he  had  been  an  excellent  ruler,  just,  moderate, 
temperate,  frugal,  and  disinterested.  His  reign 
was  too  short  to  enable  him  to  carry  put  any  ex- 
tensive schemes  ;  but  it  was  signalized  by  the 
promptness  and  ability  with  which,  through  the 
aid  of  the  sword,  he  quelled  the  wide-spreading 
insurrections  on  the  death  ot  the  prophet,  and 
preserved  the  scarcely  launched  empire  of  Islam 
from  perfect  shipwreck.  He  left  behind  him  a 
name  dear  to  all  true  Moslems,  and  an  example 
which,  Omar  used  to  say,  would  be  a  difficult 
pattern  for  his  successors  to  imitate. 


CHAPTER  XII, 

ELECTION  OF  OMAR,  SECOND  CALIPH— KHALED 
SUPERSEDED  IN  COMMAND  BY  ABU  OBEIDAH 
—MAGNANIMOUS  CONDUCT  OF  THOSE  GEN- 
ERALS —  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  CONVENT  OF 
ABYLA. 

THE  nomination  of  Omar  to  the  succession  was 
supported  by  Ayesha,  and  acquiesced  in  by  Ali, 
who  saw  that  opposition  would  be  ineffectual. 
The  election  took  place  on  the  day  of  the  decease 
of  Abu  Beker.  The  character  of  the  new  Caliph 
has  already,  through  his  deeds,  been  made  known 
in  some  measure  to  the  reader  ;  yet  a  sketch  of 
him  may  not  be  unacceptable.  He  was  now 
about  fifty-three  years  of  age  ;  a  tall,  dark  man, 
with  a  grave  demeanor  and  a  bald  head.  He 
was  so  tall,  says  one  of  his  biographers,  that 
when  he  sat  he  was  higher  than  those  who  stood. 
His  strength  was  uncommon,  and  he  used  the 
left  as  adroitly  as  the  right  hand.  Though  so 
bitter  an  enemy  of  Islamism  at  first  as  to  seek  the 
life  of  Mahomet,  he  became. from  the  moment  of 
his  conversion  one  of  its  most  sincere  and  stren- 
uous champio'ns.  He  had  taken  an  active  part 
in  the  weightiest  and  most  decisive  events  of  the 
prophet's  career.  His  name  stands  at  the  head 
of  the  weapon  companions  at  Beder,  Ohod,  Khai'- 
bar,  Honein,  and  Tabuc,  at  the  defence  of  Me- 
dina, and  the  capture  of  Mecca,  and  indeed  he  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  soul  of  most  of  the  early 
military  enterprises  of  the  faith.  His  zeal  was 
prompt  and  almost  fiery  in  its  operations.  He 
expounded  and  enforced  the  doctrines  of  Islam 
like  a  soldier  ;  when  a  question  was  too  knotty 
tor  his  logic,  he  was  ready  to  sever  it  with  the 
sword,  and  to  strike  off  the  head  of  him  who 
persisted  in  false  arguing  and  unbelief. 

In  the  administration  of  affairs,  his  probity  and 
justice  were  proverbial.  In  private  life  he  was 
noted  for  abstinence  and  frugality,  and  a  con- 
tempt for  the  false  grandeur  of  the  world.  Water 
was  his  only  beverage.  His  food  a  few  dates,  or 
a  few  bits  of  barley  bread  and  salt ;  but  in  time  of 
penance  even  salt  was  retrenched  as  a  luxury. 
His  austere  piety  and  self-denial,  and  the  sim- 
plicity and  almost  poverty  of  his  appearance  were 
regarded  with  reverence  in  those  primitive  days 
of  Islam.  He  had  shrewd  maxims  on  which  he 
squared  his  conduct,  of  which  the  following  is  a 


specimen.  "  Four  things  come  not  back  :  the 
spoken  word,  the  sped  arrow,  the  past  life,  and 
the  neglected  opportunity." 

During  his  reign  mosques  were  erected  without 
number  for  the  instruction  and  devotion  of  the 
faithful,  and  prisons  for  the  punishment  of  delin- 
quents. He  likewise  put  in  use  a  scourge  with 
twisted  thongs  for  the  correction  of  minor  offences, 
among  which  he  included  satire  and  scandal,  and 
so  potently  and  extensively  was  it  plied  that  the 
word  went  round,  "  Omar's  twisted  scourge  is 
more  to  be  feared  than  his  sword." 

On  assuming  his  office  he  was  saluted  as  Ca- 
liph of  the  Caliph  of  the  apostle  of  God,  in  other 
words,  successor  to  the  successor  of  the  prophet. 
Omar  objected,  that  such  a  title  must  lengthen 
with  every  successor,  until  it  became  endless  ; 
upon  which  it  was  proposed  and  agreed  that  he 
should  receive  the  title  of  Emir-al-Moumenin,  that 
is  to  say,  Commander  of  the  Faithful.  This  title, 
altered  into  Miramamolin,  was  subsequently 
borne  by  such  Moslem  sovereigns  as  held  inde- 
pendent sway,  acknowledging  no  superior,  and 
is  equivalent  to  that  of  emperor. 

One  of  the  first  measures  of  the  new  Caliph  was 
with  regard  to  the  army  in  Syria.  His  sober 
judgment  was  not  to  be  dazzled  by  daring  and 
brilliant  exploits  in  arms,  and  he  doubted  the  fit- 
ness of  Khaled  for  the  general  command.  He 
acknowledged  his  valor  and  military  skill,  but 
considered  him  rash,  fiery,  and  prodigal  ;  prone 
to  hazardous  and  extravagant  adventure,  and 
more  fitted  to  be  a  partisan  than  a  leader.  He 
resolved,  therefore,  to  take  Ihe  principal  com- 
mand of  the  army  out  of  such  indiscreet  hands, 
and  restore  it  to  Abu  Obeidah,  who,  he  said,  had 
proved  himself  worthy  of  it  by  his  piety,  modesty, 
moderation,  and  good  faith.  He  accordingly 
wrote  on  a  skin  of  parchment,  a  letter  to  Abu 
Obeidah,  informing  him  of  the  death  of  Abu 
Beker,  and  his  own  elevation  as  Caliph,  and  ap- 
pointing him  commander-in-chief  of  the  army  of 
Syria. 

The  letter  was  delivered  to  Abu  Obeidah  at  the 
time  that  Khaled  was  absent  in  pursuit  of  the  car- 
avan of  exiles.  The  good  Obeidah  was  surprised, 
but  sorely  perplexed  by  the  contents.  His  own 
modesty  made  him  unambitious  of  high  com- 
mand, and  his  opinion  of  the  signal  valor  and 
brilliant  services  oi  Khaled  made  him  loath  to  su- 
persede him,  and  doubtful  whether  the  Caliph 
would  not  feel  disposed  to  continue  him  as  com- 
mander-in-chief when  he  should  hear  of  his  recent 
success  at  Damascus.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to 
keep  for  the  present  the  contents  of  the  Caliph's 
letter  to  himself  ;  and  accordingly  on  Khaled's 
return  to  Damascus  continued  to  treat  him  as 
commander,  and  suffered  him  to  write  his  second 
letter  to  Abu  Beker,  giving  him  an  account  of  his 
recent  pursuit  and  plundering  of  the  exiles. 

Omar  had  not  been  long  installed  in  office 
when  he  received  the  first  letters  of  Khaled  an- 
nouncing the  capture  of  Damascus.  These  tid- 
ings occasioned  the  most  extravagant  joy  at  Me- 
dina, and  the  valor  of  Khaled  was  extolled  by  the 
multitude  to  the  very  skies.  In  the  midst  of  their 
rejoicings  they  learnt  with  astonishment  that  the 
general  command  had  been  transferred  to  Abu 
Obeidah.  The  admirers  of  Khaled  were  loud  in 
their  expostulations.  "  What  !"  cried  they, 
"  dismiss  Khaled  when  in  the  full  career  of  vic- 
tory ?  Remember  the  reply  of  Abu  Beker,  when 
a  like  measure  was  urged  upon  him.  '  I  will  not 
sheathe  the  sword  of  God  drawn  for  the  promotion 
of  the  faith.'  " 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Omar  revolved  their  remonstrances  in  his  mind, 
but  his  resolution  remained  unchanged.  "  Abu 
Obeidah,"  said  he,  "  is  tender  and  merciful,  yet 
brave.  He  will  be  careful  of  his  people,  not  lav- 
ishing their  lives  in  rash  adventures  and  plunder- 
ing inroads  ;  nor  will  he  be  the  less  formidable  in 
battle  for  being  moderate  when  victorious." 

In  the  mean  time  came  the  second  dispatches  of 
Khaled,  addressed  to  Abu  Beker,  announcing 
the  success  of  his  expedition  in  pursuit  of  the  ex- 
iles, and  requesting  his  decision  of  the  matters 
in  dispute  between  him  and  Abu  Obeidah.  The 
Caliph  was  perplexed  by  this  letter,  which  showed 
that  his  election  as  Caliph  was  yet  unknown  to 
the  army,  and  that  Abu  Obeidah  had  not  assumed 
the  command.  He  now  wrote  again  to  the  latter, 
reiterating  his  appointment,  and  deciding  upon 
the  matters  in  dispute.  He  gave  it  as  his  opinion 
that  Damascus  had  surrendered  on  capitulation, 
and  had  not  been  taken  by  the  sword,  and  directed 
that  the  stipulations  of  the  covenant  should  be 
fulfilled.  He  declared  the  pursuit  of  the  exiles  in- 
iquitous and  rash,  and  that  it  would  have  proved 
fatal,  but  for  the  mercy  of  God.  The  dismissal 
of  the  emperor's  daughter  free  of  ransom,  he 
termed  a  prodigal  action,  as  a  large  sum  might 
have  been  obtained  and  given  to  the  poor.  He 
counselled  Abu  Obeidah,  of  whose  mild  and  hu- 
mane temper  he  was  well  aware,  not  to  be  too 
modest  and  compliant,  but  at  the  same  time  not 
to  risk  the  lives  of  the  faithful  in  the  mere  hope 
of  plunder.  This  latter  hint  was  a  reproof  to 
Khaled. 

Lest  this  letter  should  likewise  be  suppressed 
through  the  modesty  of  Abu  Obeidah,  he  dis- 
patched it  by  an  officer  of  distinction,  Shaded  Ibn 
Aass,  whom  he  appointed  his  representative  in 
Syria,  with  orders  to  have  the  letter  read  in  pres- 
ence of  the  Moslems,  and  to  cause  him  to  be  pro- 
claimed Caliph  at  Damascus. 

Shaded  made  good  his  journey,  and  found 
Khaled  in  his  tent,  still  acting  as  commander-in- 
chief,  and  the  army  ignorant  of  the  death  of  Abu 
Beker.  The  tidings  he  brought  struck  every  one 
with  astonishment.  The  first  sentiment  expressed 
was  grief  at  the  death  of  the  good  Abu  Beker, 
who  was  universally  lamented  as  a  father  ;  the 
second  was  surprise  at  the  deposition  of  Khaled 
from  the  command,  in  the  very  midst  of  such  sig- 
nal victories  ;  and  many  of  his  officers  and  sol- 
diers were  loud  in  expressing  their  indignation. 

If  Khaled  had  been  fierce  and  rude  in  his  ca- 
reer of  triumph,  he  proved  himself  magnanimous 
in  this  moment  of  adversity.  "  I  know,"  said 
he,  "  that  Omar  does  not  love  me  ;  but  since  Abu 
Beker  is  dead,  and  has  appointed  him  his  success- 
or, I  submit  to  his  commands."  He  according- 
ly caused  Omar  to  be  proclaimed  Caliph  at  Da- 
mascus, and  resigned  his  command  to  Abu  Obei- 
dah. The  latter  accepted  it  with  characteristic 
modesty  ;  but  evinced  a  fear  that  Khaled  would 
retire  in  disgust,  and  his  signal  services  be  lost  to 
the  cause  of  Islam.  Khaled,  however,  soon  let 
him  know  that  he  was  as  ready  to  serve  as  to 
command,  and  only  required  an  occasion  to  prove 
that  his  zeal  for  the  faith  was  unabated.  His  per- 
sonal submission  evtorted  admiration  even  from 
his  enemies,  and  gained  him  the  fullest  deference, 
respect,  and  confidence  of  Abu  Obeidah. 

About  this  time  one  of  the  Christian  tributaries, 
a  base-spirited  wretch,  eager  to  ingratiate  him- 
self with  Abu  Obeidah,  came  and  informed  him 
of  a  fair  object  of  enterprise.  "  At  no  great  dis- 
tance from  this,  between  Tripoli  and  Harran,  there 
is  a  convent  called  Daiz  Abil  Kodos,  or  the  mon- 


astery of  the  Holy  Father,  from  being  inhabited 
by  a  Christian  hermit,  so  eminent  for  wisdom, 
piety,  and  mortification  of  the  flesh,  that  he  is 
looked  up  to  as  a  saint  ;  so  that  young  and  old, 
rich  and  poor,  resort  from  all  parts  to  seek  his  ad- 
vice and  blessing,  and  not  a  marriage  takes  place 
among  the  nobles  of  the  country,  but  the  bride 
and  bridegroom  repair  to  receive  from  him  the 
nuptial  benediction.  At  Easter  there  is  an  an- 
nual fair  held  at  Abyla  in  front  of  the  convent, 
to  which  are  brought  the  richest  manufactures  of 
the  surrounding  country  ;  silken  stuffs,  jewels  of 
gold  and  silver,  and  other  precious  productions 
of  art  ;  and  as  the  fair  is  a  peaceful  congregation 
of  people,  unarmed  and  unguarded,  it  will  afford 
ample  booty  at  little  risk  or  trouble." 

Abu  Obeidah  announced  the  intelligence  to  his 
troops.  "  Who,"  said  he,  "  will  undertake  this 
enterprise  ?"  His  eye  glanced  involuntarily  upon 
Khaled  ;  it  was  just  such  a  foray  as  he  was  wont 
to  delight  in  ;  but  Khaled  remained  silent.  Abu 
Obeidah  could  not  ask  a  service  from  one  so  lately 
in  chief  command  ;  and  while  he  hesitated,  Abtlal- 
lah  Ibn  Jaafar,  stepson  of  Abu  Beker,  came  for- 
ward. A  banner  was  given  him,  and  five  hun- 
dred veteran  horsemen,  scarred  in  many  a  battle, 
sallied  with  him  from  the  gates  of  Damascus, 
guided  by  the  traitor  Christian.  They  halted  to 
rest  before  arriving  at  Abyla,  and  sent  forward 
the  Christian  as  a  scout.  As  he  approached  the 
place  he  was  astonished  to  see  it  crowded  with  an 
immense  concourse  of  Greeks,  Armenians,  Copts, 
and  Jews,  in  their  various  garbs  ;  besides  these 
there  was  a  grand  procession  of  nobles  and  court- 
iers in  rich  attire,  and  priests  in  religious  dresses, 
with  a  guard  of  five  thousand  horse  ;  all,  as  he 
learned,  escorting  the  daughter  of  the  prefect  of 
Tripoli,  who  was  lately  married,  and  had  come 
with  her  husband  to  receive  the  blessing  of  the 
venerable  hermit.  The  Christian  scout  hastened 
back  to  the  Moslems,  and  warned  them  to  retreat. 

"  I  dare  not,"  said  Abdallah  promptly  ;  "  I  fear 
the  wrath  of  Allah,  should  I  turn  my  back.  I  will 
fight  these  infidels.  Those  who  help  me,  God 
will  reward  ;  those  whose  hearts  fail  them  are 
welcome  to  retire."  Not  a  Moslem  turned  his 
back.  "  Forward  !"  said  Abdallah  to  the  Chris- 
tian, and  thou  shalt  behold  what  the  companions 
of  the  prophet  can  perform."  The  traitor  hesi- 
tated, however,  and  was  with  difficulty  persuad- 
ed to  guide  them  on  a  service  of  such  peril. 

Abdallah  led  his  band  near  to  Abyla,  where 
they  lay  close  until  morning.  At  the  dawn  o{ 
day,  having  performed  the  customary  prayer,  he 
divided  his  host  into  five  squadrons  of  a  hundred 
each  ;  they  were  to  charge  at  once  in  five  differ- 
ent places,  with  the  shout  of  Allah  Achbar  ! 
and  to  slay  or  capture  without  stopping  to  pil- 
lage until  the  victory  should  be  complete.  He 
then  reconnoitred  the  place.  The  hermit  was 
preaching  in  front  of  his  convent  to  a  multitude 
of  auditors  ;  the  fair  teemed  with  people  in  the 
variegated  garbs  of  the  Orient.  One  house  was 
guarded  by  a  great  number  of  horsemen,  and 
numbers  of  persons,  richly  clad,  were  going  in 
and  out,  or  standing  about  it.  In  this  house  evi- 
dently was  the  youthful  bride. 

Abdallah  encouraged  his  followers  to  despise 
the  number  of  these  foes.  "Remember,"  cried 
he,  "the  words  of  the  prophet.  'Paradise  is 
under  the  shadow  of  swords  !  '  If  we  conquer, 
we  shall  have  glorious  booty  ;  if  we  fall,  paradise 
awaits  us  !" 

The  five  squadrons  charged  as  they  had  been 
ordered,  with  the  well-known  war-cry.  Tha 


100 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Christians  were  struck  with  dismay,  thinking  the 
whole  Moslem  army  upon  them.  There  was  a 
direful  contusion  ;  the  multitude  flying  in  all  di- 
rections ;  women  and  children  shrieking  and  cry- 
ing ;  booths  and  tents  overturned,  and  precious 
merchandise  scattered  about  the  streets.  The 
troops,  however,  seeing  the  inferior  number  of 
the  assailants,  plucked  up  spirits  and  charged 
upon  them.  The  merchants  and  inhabitants  re- 
covered from  their  panic  and  flew  to  arms,  and 
the  Moslem  band,  hemmed  in  among  such  a  host 
of  foes,  seemed,  say  the  Arabian  writers,  like  a 
white  spot  on  the  hide  of  a  black  camel.  A  Mos- 
lem trooper,  seeing  the  peril  of  his  companions, 
broke  his  way  out  of  the  throng,  and  throwing  the 
reins  on  the  neck  of  his  steed,  scoured  back  to 
Damascus  tor  succor. 

In  this  moment  of  emergency  Abu  Obeidah 
forgot  all  scruples  of  delicacy,  and  turned  to  the 
man  he  had  superseded  in  office.  "  Fail  us  not," 
cried  he,  "  in  this  moment  of  peril  ;  but,  for 
God's  sake,  hasten  to  deliver  thy  brethren  from 
destruction." 

"  Had  Omar  given  the  command  of  the  army 
to  a  child,"  replied  the  gracious  Khaled,  "  I 
should  have  obeyed  him  ;  how  much  more  thee, 
my  predecessor  in  the  faith  of  Islam  !" 

He  now  arrayed  himself  in  a  coat  of  mail,  the 
spoil  of  the  false  prophet  Mosei'lma  ;  he  put  on 
a  helmet  of  proof,  and  over  it  a  skull-cap,  which 
he  called  the  blessed  cap,  and  attributed  to  it 
wonderful  virtues,  having  received  the  prophet's 
benediction.  Then  springing  on  his  horse,  and 
!  putting  himself  at  the  head  of  a  chosen  band,  he 
scoured  off  toward  Abyla,  with  the  bold  Derar  at 
his  side, 

In  the  mean  time  the  troops  under  Abdallah 
had  maintained  throughout  the  day  a  desperate 
conflict ;  heaps  of  the  slain  testified  their  prow- 
ess ;  but  their  ranks  were  sadly  thinned,  scarce 
one  of  the  survivors  but  had  received  repeated 
wounds,  and  they  were  ready  to  sink  under  heat, 
fatigue,  and  thirst.  Toward  sunset  a  cloud  of 
dust  is  seen  :  is  it  a  reinforcement  of  their  ene- 
mies ?  A  troop  of  horsemen  emerge.  They  bear 
the  black  eagle  of  Khaled.  The  air  resounds 
with  the  shout  of  Allah  Achbar.  The  Christians 
are  assailed  on  either  side  ;  some  fly  and  are  pur- 
sued to  the  river  by  the  unsparing  sword  of  Kha- 
led ;  others  rally  round  the  monastery.  Derar 
engages  hand  to  hand  with  the  prefect  of  Tripoli  ; 
they  grapple  ;  they  struggle  ;  they  fall  to  the 
earth  ;  Derar  is  uppermost,  and,  drawing  a  pon- 
iard, plunges  it  into  the  heart  of  his  adversary. 
He  springs  upon  his  feet  ;  vaults  into  the  saddle 
of  the  prefect's  horse,  and,  with  the  shout  of  Al- 
lah Achbar,  gallops  in  quest  of  new  opponents. 

The  battle  is  over.  The  fair  is  given  up  to 
plunder.  Horses,  mules,  and  asses  are  laden 
with  silken  stuffs,  rich  embroidery,  jewels  of  gold 
and  silver,  precious  stones,  spices,  perfumes,  and 
other  wealthy  plunder  of  the  merchants  ;  but  the 
most  precious  part  of  the  spoil  is  the  beautiful 
bride,  with  forty  damsels,  who  formed  her  bridal 
train. 

The  monastery  was  left  desolate,  with  none 
but  the  holy  anchorite  to  inhabit  it.  Khaled  call- 
ed upon  the  old  man,  but  received  no  answer  ;  he 
called  again,  but  the  only  reply  was  to  invoke  the 
vengeance  of  heaven  upon  his  head  for  the  Chris- 
tian blood  he  had  spilt.  The  fierce  Saracen 
paused  as  he  was  driving  off  the  spoil,  and  laying 
his  hand  upon  the  hilt  of  his  scimetar,  looked 
back  grimly  upon  the  hermit.  "  What  we  have 
done,"  said  he,  "is  in  obedience  to  the  law  of 


God,  who  commands  us  to  slay  all  unbelievers  • 
and  had  not  the  apostle  of  God  commanded  us  to 
let  such  men  as  thee  alone,  thou  shouldst  have 
shared  the  fate  of  thy  fellow-infidels." 

The  old  man  saw  his  danger  in  time,  and  dis- 
creetly held  his  peace,  and  the  sword  of  Islam 
remained  within  its  scabbard. 

The  conquerors  bore  their  booty  and  their  cap- 
tives back  in  triumph  to  Damascus.  One  fifth  of 
the  spoil  was  set  apart  for  the  public  treasury  : 
the  rest  was  distributed  among  the  soldiery. 
Derar,  as  a  trophy  of  his  exploit,  received  the 
horse  of  the  prefect  of  Tripoli,  but  he  made  it  a 
present  to  his  Amazonian  sister  Caulah.  The 
saddle  and  trappings  were  studded  with  precious 
stones  ;  these  she  picked  out  and  distributed 
among  her  female  companions. 

Among  the  spoils  was  a  cloth  curiously  wrought 
with  a  likeness  of  the  blessed  Saviour  ;  which, 
from  the  exquisite  workmanship  or  the  sanctity 
of  the  portrait,  was  afterward  sold  in  Arabia  Felix 
for  ten  times  its  weight  in  gold. 

Abdallah,  for  his  part  of  the  spoil,  asked  for 
the  daughter  of  the  prefect,  having  been  smitten 
with  her  charms.  His  demand  was  referred  to 
the  Caliph  Omar  and  granted,  and  the  captive 
beauty  lived  with  him  many  years.  Obeidah,  in 
his  letters  to  the  Caliph,  generously  set  forth  the 
magnanimous  conduct  and  distinguished  prowess 
of  Khaled  on  this  occasion,  and  entreated  Omar 
to  write  a  letter  to  that  general  expressive  ot  his 
sense  of  his  recent  services,  as  it  might  soothe  the 
mortification  he  must  experience  from  his  late 
deposition.  The  Caliph,  however,  though  he  re- 
plied to  every  other  part  of  the  letter  of  Obeidah, 
took  no  notice,  either  by  word  or  deed,,  of  that 
relating  to  Khaled,  from  which  it  was  evident 
that,  in  secret,  he  entertained  no  great  regard  for 
the  unsparing  sword  ot  Islam. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MODERATE    MEASURES     OF     ABU     OBEIDAH — RE- 
PROVED BY  THE  CALIPH   FOR  HIS   SLOWNESS. 

THE  alertness  and  hardihood  of  the  Saracens  in 
their  rapid  campaigns  have  been  attributed  to 
their  simple  and  abstemious  habits.  They  knew 
nothing  of  the  luxuries  of  the  pampered  Greeks, 
and  were  prohibited  the  use  of  wine.  Their  drink 
was  water,  their  food  principally  milk,  rice,  and 
the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  their  dress  the  coarse 
raiments  of  the  desert.  An  army  of  such  men 
was  easily  sustained  ;  marched  rapidly  from 
place  to  place  ;  and  was  fitted  to  cope  with  the 
vicissitudes  of  war.  The  interval  of  repose,  how- 
ever, in  the  luxurious  city  of  Damascus,  and  the 
general  abundance  of  the  fertile  regions  ot  Syria 
began  to  have  their  effect  upon  the  Moslem 
troops,  and  the  good  Abu  Obeidah  was  especially 
scandalized  at  discovering  that  they  were  lapsing 
into  the  use  of  wine,  so  strongly  forbidden  by  the 
prophet.  He  mentioned  the  prevalence  of  this 
grievous  sin  in  his  letter  to  the  Caliph,  who  read 
it  in  the  mosque  in  presence  of  his  officers.  "  By 
Allah,"  exclaimed  the  abstemious  Omar  ;  "  these 
fellows  are  only  fit  for  poverty  and  hard  fare  ; 
what  is  to  be  done  with  these  wine-bibbers  ?" 

"Let  him  who  drinks  wine,"  replied  Ali, 
promptly,  "  receive  twenty  bastinadoes  on  the 
soles  of  his  feet." 

"  Good,  it  shall  be  so,"  rejoined  the   Caliph  ; 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


101 


and  he  wrote  to  that  effect  to  the  commander-in- 
chief.  On  receiving  the  letter,  Abu  Obeidah 
forthwith  summoned  the  offenders,  and  had  the 
punishment  publicly  inflicted  for  the  edification  of 
his  troops  ;  he  took  the  occasion  to  descant  on 
the  enormity  of  the  offence,  and  to  exhort  such  as 
had  sinned  in  private  to  come  forward  like  good 
Moslems,  make  public  confession,  and  submit  to 
the  bastinado  in  token  of  repentance  ;  whereupon 
many,  who  had  indulged  in  secret  potations, 
moved  by  his  paternal  exhortation,  avowed  their 
crime  and  their  repentance,  and  were  set  at  ease 
in  their  consciences  by  a  sound  bastinadoing  and 
the  forgiveness  of  the  good  Abu  Obeidah. 

That  worthy  commander  now  left  a  garrison 
of  five  hundred  horse  at  Damascus,  and  issued 
forth  with  his  host  to  prosecute  the  subjugation  of 
Syria.  He  had  a  rich  field  of  enterprise  before 
him.  The  country  of  Syria,  from  the  amenity  of 
its  climate,  tempered  by  the  vicinity  of  the  sea 
and  the  mountains,  from  the  fertility  of  its  soil, 
and  the  happy  distribution  of  woods  and  streams, 
was  peculiarly  adapted  for  the  vigorous  support 
and  prolific  increase  of  animal  life  ;  it  according- 
ly teemed  with  population,  and  was  studded  with 
ancient  and  embattled  cities  and  fortresses.  Two 
of  the  proudest  and  most  splendid  of  these  were 
Emessa  (the  modern  Hems),  the  capital  of  the 
plains  ;  and  Baalbec,  the  famous  city  of  the  Sun, 
situated  between  the  mountains  of  Lebanon. 

These  two  cities,  with  others  intermediate, 
were  the  objects  of  Abu  Obeidah's  enterprise, 
and  he  sent  Khaled  in  advance,  with  Derar  and 
Rafi  Ibn  Omeirah,  at  the  head  of  a  third  of  the 
army,  to  scour  the  country  about  Emessa.  In  his 
own  slower  march,  with  the  main  body  of  the 
army,  he  approached  the  city  of  Jusheyah,  but 
was  met  by  the  governor,  who  purchased  a 
year's  truce  with  the  payment  of  four  hundred 
pieces  of  gold  and  fifty  silken  robes  ;  and  the 
promise  to  surrender  the  city  at  the  expiration  of 
a  year,  if  in  that  interval  Baalbec  and  Emessa 
should  have  been  taken. 

When  Abu  Obeidah  came  before  Emessa  he 
found  Khaled  in  active  operation.  The  governor 
of  the  place  had  died  on  the  day  on  which  the 
Moslem  force  appeared,  and  the  city  was  not  fully 
provisioned  for  a  siege.  The  inhabitants  nego- 
tiated a  truce  for  one  year  by  the  payment  of  ten 
thousand  pieces  of  gold  and  two  hundred  suits  of 
silk,  with  the  engagement  to  surrender  at  the  end 
of  that  term,  provided  he  should  have  taken 
Aleppo,  Alhadir,  and  Kennesrin,  and  defeated 
the  army  of  the  emperor.  Khaled  would  have 
persevered  in  the  siege,  but  Abu  Obeidah  thought 
it  the  wisest  policy  to  agree  to  these  golden 
terms,  by  which  he  provided  himself  with  the  sin- 
ews of  war,  and  was  enabled  to  proceed  more 
surely  in  his  career. 

The  moment  the  treaty  was  concluded  the  peo- 
ple of  Emessa  threw  open  their  gates  ;  held  a 
market  or  fair  beneath  the  walls,  and  began  to 
drive  a  lucrative  trade  ;  for  the  Moslem  camp  was 
full  of  booty,  and  these  marauding  warriors, 
flushed  with  sudden  wealth,  squandered  plunder 
of  all  kinds,  and  never  regarded  the  price  of  any- 
thing that  struck  their  fancy.  In  the  mean  time 
predatory  bands  foraged  the  country  both  far  and 
near,  and  came  in  driving  sheep  and  cattle,  and 
horses  and  camels,  laden  with  household  booty 
of  all  kinds,  besides  multitudes  of  captives.  The 
piteous  lamentations  of  these  people,  torn  from 
their  peaceful  homes  and  doomed  to  slavery, 
touched  the  heart  of  Abu  Obeidah.  He  told  them 
that  all  who  would  embrace  the  Islam  faith  should 


have  their  lives  and  property.  On  such  as  chose 
to  remain  in  infidelity,  he  imposed  a  ransom  of 
five  pieces  of  gold  a  head,  besides  an  annual 
tribute  ;  caused  their  names  and  places  of  abode 
to  be  registered  in  a  book,  and  then  gave  them 
back  their  property,  their  wives  and  children,  on 
condition  that  they  should  act  as  guides  and  in- 
terpreters to  the  Moslems  in  case  of  need. 

The  merciful  policy  of  the  good  Abu  Obeidah 
promised  to  promote  the  success  of  Islam,  even 
more  potently  than  the  sword.  The  Syrian 
Greeks  came  in,  in  great  numbers,  to  have  their 
names  enregistered  in  the  book  of  tributaries  ; 
and  other  cities  capitulated  for  a  year's  truce  on 
the  terms  granted  to  Emessa.  Khaled,  however, 
who  was  no  friend  to  truces  and  negotiations,  mur- 
mured at  these  peaceful  measures,  and  offered  to 
take  these  cities  in  less  time  than  it  required  to 
treat  with  them  ;  but  Abu  Obeidah  was  not  to  be 
swerved  from  the  path  of  moderation  ;  thus,  in  a 
little  time  the  whole  territories  of  Emessa,  Alhadir, 
and  Kennesrin  were  rendered  sacred  from  maraud. 
The  predatory  warriors  of  the  desert  were  some- 
what impatient  at  being  thus  hemmed  in  by  pro- 
hibited boundaries,  and  on  one  occasion  had  well 
night  brought  the  truce  to  an  abrupt  termination. 
A  party  of  Saracen  troopers,  in  prowling  along 
the  confines  of  Kennesrin,  came  to  where  the 
Christians,  to  mark  their  boundary,  had  erected 
a  statue  of  the  emperor  Heraclius,  seated  on  his 
throne.  The  troopers,  who  had  a  Moslem  hatred 
of  images,  regarded  this  with  derision,  and 
amused  themselves  with  careering  round  and  tilt- 
ing at  it,  until  one  of  them,  either  accidentally  or 
in  sport,  struck  out  one  of  the  eyes  with  his  lance. 

The  Greeks  were  indignant  at  this  outrage. 
Messengers  were  sent  to  Abu  Obeidah,  loudly 
complaining  of  it  as  an  intentional  breach  of  the 
truce,  and  a  flagrant  insult  to  the  emperor.  Abu 
Obeidah  mildly  assured  them  that  it  was  his  dis- 
position most  rigorously  to  observe  the  truce  ; 
that  the  injury  to  the  statue  must  have  been  ac- 
cidental, and  that  no  indignity  to  the  emperor 
could  have  been  intended.  His  moderation  only 
increased  the  arrogance  of  the  ambassadors  ; 
their  emperor  had  been  insulted  ;  it  was  for  the 
Caliph  to  give  redress  according  to  the  measure 
of  the  law  :  "  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth."  "  What  !"  cried  some  of  the  over-zeal- 
ous Moslems  ;  "  do  the  infidels  mean  to  claim 
an  eye  from  the  Caliph  ?"  In  their  rage  they 
would  have  slain  the  messengers  on  the  spot  ; 
but  the  quiet  Abu  Obeidah  stayed  their  wrath. 
"They  speak  but  figuratively,"  said  he;  then 
taking  the  messengers  aside,  he  shrewdly  com- 
promised the  matter,  and  satisfied  their  wounded 
'loyalty,  by  agreeing  that  they  should  set  up  a 
statue  of  the  Caliph,  with  glass  eyes,  and  strike  out 
one  of  them  in  retaliation. 

While  Abu  Obeidah  was  pursuing  this  mod- 
erate course,  and  subduing  the  country  by  clem- 
ency rather  than  by  force  of  arms,  missives  came 
from  the  Caliph,  who  was  astonished  at  receiving 
no  tidings  of  further  conquests,  reproaching  him 
with  his  slowness,  and  with  preferring  worldly 
gain  to  the  pious  exercise  of  the  sword.  The  sol- 
diers when  they  heard  of  the  purport  of  this  letter, 
took  the  reproaches  to  themselves,  and  wept  with 
vexation.  Abu  Obeidah  himself  was  stung  to  the 
quick  and  repented  him  of  the  judicious  truces  he 
had  made.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he 
held  a  council  of  war,  and  it  was  determined  to 
lose  not  a  day,  although  the  truces  had  but  about 
a  month  to  run.  He  accordingly  left  Khaled  with 
a  strong  force  in  the  vicinity  of  Emessa  to  await 


102 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


the  expiration  of  the  truce,  while  he  marched  with 
the  main  host  against  the  city  of  Baalbec. 


*  CHAPTER   XIV. 

SIEGE  AND   CAPTURE   OF   BAALBEC. 

BAALBEC,  so  called  from  Baal,  the  Syrian,  appel- 
lation of  the  sun,  or  Apollo,  to  which  deity  it  was 
dedicated,  was  one  of  the  proudest  cities  of  an- 
cient Syria.  It  was  the  metropolis  of  the  great 
and  fertile  valley  of  Bekaa,  lying  between  the 
mountains  of  Lebanon,  and  Anti  Lebanon.  Dur- 
ing the  Grecian  domination  it  was  called  Heliopo- 
lis,  which  likewise  means  the  City  of  the  Sun.  It 
was  famous  for  its  magnificent  temple  of  Baal, 
which,  tradition  affirms,  was  built  by  Solomon 
the  \Vise,  to  please  one  of  his  wives,  a  native  of 
Sidon  and  a  worshipper  of  the  Sun.  The  im- 
mense blocks  of  stone  of  which  it  was  constructed 
were  said  to  have  been  brought  by  the  genii,  over 
whom  Solomon  had  control  by  virtue  of  his  talis- 
manic  seal.  Some  of  them  remain  to  this  day 
objects  of  admiration  to  the  traveller,  and  per- 
plexity to  the  modern  engineer.* 

On  his  march  against  Baalbec  Abu  Obeidah  in- 
tercepted a  caravan  of  four  hundred  camels  laden 
with  silks  and  sugars,  on  the  way  to  that  city. 

•  With  his  usual  clemency  he  allowed  the  captives 
to  ransom  themselves  ;  some  of  whom  carried  to 
Baalbec  the  news  of  his  approach,   and  of  the 
capture  of  the  caravan.      Herbis,  the  governor, 
supposing  the  Saracens  to  be  a  mere  marauding 
party,  sallied  forth  with  six  thousand  horse  and  a 
multitude  of  irregular  loot,  in  hope  to  recover  the 
spoils,  but  fo'^nd  to  his  cost  that  he  had  an  army 
to  contend  with,  and  was  driven  back  to  the  city 
with  great  loss,  after  receiving  seven  wounds. 

Abu  Obeidah  set  himself  down  before  the  city, 
and  addressed  a  letter  to  the  inhabitants,  remind- 
ing them  of  the  invincible  arms  of  the  faithful, 
and  inviting  them  to  profess  Islamism,  or  pay 
tribute.  This  letter  he  gave  in  charge  to  a  Syrian 
peasant  ;  and  with  it  a  reward  of  twenty  pieces  of 
silver  ;  "  for  Allah  forbid,"  said  the  conscientious 
general,  "  that  I  should  employ  thee  without  pay. 
The  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire." 

The  messenger  was  drawn  up  by  a  cord  to  the 
battlements,  and  delivered  the  letter  to  the  inhab- 
itants, many  of  whom,  on  hearing  the  contents, 
were  inclined  to  surrender.  Herbis,  the  govern- 
or, however,  who  was  still  smarting  with  his 
wounds,  tore  the  letter  in  pieces,  and  dismissed, 
the  messenger  without  deigning  a  reply. 

Abu  Obeidah  now  ordered  his  troops  to  the 
assault,  but  the  garrison  made  brave  defence,  and 
did  such  execution  with  their  engines  from  the 
walls,  that  the  Saracens  were  repulsed  with  con- 
siderable loss.  The  weather  was  cold  ;  so  Abu 
Obeidah,  who  was  ever  mindful  of  the  welfare  of 
his  men,  sent  a  trumpeter  round  the  camp  next 
morning,  forbidding  any  man  to  take  the  field 
until  he  had  made  a  comfortable  meal.  All  were 
now  busy  cooking,  when,  in  the  midst  of  their 
preparations  the  city  gates  were  thrown  open,  and 
the  Greeks  came  scouring  upon  them,  making 
great  slaughter.  They  were  repulsed  with  some 
difficulty,  but  carried  off  prisoners  and  plunder. 

Abu  Obeidah  now  removed  his  camp  out  of 

*  Among  these  huge  blocks  some  measure  fifty-eight, 
and  one  sixty-nine  feet  in  length. 


reach  of  the  engines,  and  where  his  cavalry  would 
have  more  room.  He  threw  out  detachments 
also,  to  distract  the  attention  of  the  enemy  and 
oblige  them  to  fight  in  several  places.  Saad  Ibn 
Zeid,  with  five  hundred  horse  and  three  hundred 
foot,  was  to  show  himself  in  the  valley  opposite 
the  gate  looking  toward  the  mountains  ;  while 
Derar,  with  three  hundred  horse  and  two  hundred 
foot,  was  stationed  in  front  of  the  gate  on  the  side 
toward  Damascus. 

Herbis,  the  governor,  seeing  the  Saracens 
move  back  their  tents,  supposed  them  to  be  in- 
timidated by  their  late  loss.  "  These  Arabs," 
said  he,  "  are  half-naked  vagabonds  of  the  desert, 
who  fight  without  object  ;  we  are  locked  up  in 
steel,  and  fight  for  our  wives  and  children,  our 
property  and  our  lives."  He  accordingly  roused 
his  troops  to  make  another  sally,  and  an  obstinate 
battle  ensued.  One  of  the  Moslem  officers,  Sohail 
Ibn  Sabah,  being  disabled  by  a  sabre  cut  in  the 
right  arm,  alighted  from  his  horse,  and  clambered 
a  neighboring  hill  which  overlooked  the  field,  the 
city,  and  its  vicinity.  Here  he  sat  watching  the 
various  fortunes  of  the  field.  The  sally  had  been 
made  through  the  gate  before  which  Abu  Obeidah 
was  posted,  who  of  course  received  the  whole 
brunt  of  the  attack.  The  battle  was  hot,  and  So- 
hail perceived  from  his  hill  that  the  Moslems  in 
this  quarter  were  hard  pressed,  and  that  the  gen- 
eral was  giving  ground,  and  in  imminent  danger 
of  being  routed  ;  while  Derar  and  Saad  remained 
inactive  at  .their  distant  posts  ;  no  sally  having 
been  made  from  the  gates  before  which  they  were 
stationed.  Upon  this  Sohail  gathered  together 
some  green  branches,  and  set  fire  to  them,  so  as 
to  make  a  column  of  smoke  ;  a  customary  signal 
by  day  among  the  Arabs,  as  fire  was  by  night. 
Derar  and  Saad  beheld  the  smoke  and  galloped 
with  their  troops  in  that  direction.  Their  arrival 
changed  the  whole  fortune  of  the  field.  Herbis, 
who  had  thought  himself  on  the  eve  of  victory, 
now  found  himself  beset  on  each  side  and  cut  off 
from  the  city  !  Nothing  but  strict  discipline  and 
the  impenetrable  Grecian  phalanx  saved  him. 
His  men  closed  shield  to  shield,  their  lances  in 
advance,  and  made  a  slow  and  defensive  retreat, 
the  Moslems  wheeling  around  and  charging  in- 
cessantly upon  them.  Abu  Obeidah,  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  arrival  of  Derar  and  Saad,  im- 
agined the  retreat  of  the  Christians  a  mere  feint, 
and  called  back  his  troops  ;  Saad,  however,  who 
heard  not  the  general's  order,  kept  on  in  pursuit, 
until  he  drove  the  enemy  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  where 
they  ensconced  themselves  in  an  old  deserted 
monastery. 

When  Abu  Obeidah  learned  the  secret  of  this 
most  timely  aid,  and  that  it  was  in  consequence 
of  a  supposed  signal  from  him,  he  acknowledged 
that  the  smoke  was  an  apt  thought,  and  saved  his 
camp  from  being  sacked  ;  but  he  prohibited  any 
man  from  repeating  such  an  act  without  orders 
from  the  general. 

In  the  mean  time  Herbis,  the  governor,  finding 
the  small  number  that  invested  the  convent,  sal- 
lied forth  with  his  troops,  in  hopes  of  cutting  his 
way  to  the  city.  Never  did  men  fight  more 
valiantly,  and  they  had  already  made  great  havoc, 
when  the  arrival  of  a  fresh  swarm  of  Moslems 
drove  them  back  to  their  forlorn  fortress,  where 
they  were  so  closely  watched  that  not  a  Grecian 
eye  could  peer  irom  the  old  walls  without  being 
the  aim  of  a  Moslem  arrow. 

Abu  Obeidah  now  invested  the  city  more  closely 
than  ever,  leaving  Saad,  with  his  forces,  to  keep 
the  governor  encaged  in  the  monastery.  The  lat- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


103 


ter  perceived  it  would  be  impossible  to  hold  out 
longer  in  this  shattered  edifice,  destitute  of  pro- 
visions. His  proud  spirit  was  completely  broken, 
and,  throwing  off  his  silken  robes,  and  clothing 
him  in  a  worn  woollen  garb,  as  suited  to  his  hum- 
ble situation,  he  sought  a  conference  with  Saad  to 
treat  on  terms  of  capitulation.  The  Moslem  cap- 
tain replied  that  he  could  only  treat  for  the  party 
in  the  convent,  whom  he  would  receive  as  broth- 
ers, if  they  would  acknowledge  God  and  the  proph- 
et, or  would  let  them  free  on  the  pledge  not  to 
bear  arms  against  the  Moslems.  He  proffered  to 
lead  Herbis  to  the  general,  if  he  wished  to  treat 
for  the  city  also  ;  and  added  that,  should  the  ne- 
gotiation fail,  he  ami  his  Greeks  might  return 
into  their  convent,  and  let  God  and  the  sword 
decide. 

Herbis  was  accordingly  led  through  the  besieg- 
ing camp  into  the  presence  of  Abu  Obeidah,  and 
gnawed  his  lip  when  he  saw  the  inconsiderable 
number  of  the  Moslem  host.  He  offered,  as  a 
ransom  for  the  city,  one  thousand  ounces  of  gold, 
two  thousand  of  silver,  and  one  thousand  silken 
robes  ;  but  Abu  Obeidah  demanded  that  he  should 
double  the  amount,  and  add  thereto  one  thousand 
sabres,  and  all  the  arms  of  the  soldiers  in  the 
monastery  ;  as  well  as  engage  in  behalf  of  the 
city  to  pay  an  annual  tribute  ;  to  engage  to  erect 
no  more  Christian  churches,  nor  ever  more  act  in 
hostility  against  the  Moslem  power. 

These  harsh  terms  being  conceded,  Herbis  was 
permitted  to  enter  the  city  alone,  and  submit  them 
to  the  inhabitants,  all  his  attendants  being  de- 
tained as  hostages.  The  townsmen  at  first  re- 
fused to  capitulate,  saying  their  city  was  the 
strongest  in  all  Syria  ;  but  Herbis  offered  to  pay- 
down  one  fourth  of  the  ransom  himself,  and  they 
at  length  complied.  One  point  was  conceded  to 
the  people  of  Baalbec  to  soothe  their  wounded 
pride.  It  was  agreed  that  Rafi  Ibn  Abdallah,  who 
was  to  remain  with  five  hundred  men,  acting  as 
lieutenant  of  Baalbec  for  Abu  Obeidah,  should  en- 
camp without  the  walls,  and  not  enter  the  city. 
These  matters  being  arranged,  Abu  Obeidah 
marched  with  his  host  on  other  enterprises. 

The  Saracen  troops,  under  Rafi  Ibn  Abdallah, 
soon  ingratiated  themselves  with  the  people  of 
Baalbec.  They  pillaged  the  surrounding  coun- 
try, and  sold  their  booty  for  low  prices  to  the 
townsfolk,  who  thus  grew  wealthy  on  the  spoils  of 
their  own  countrymen.  Herbis,  the  governor,  felt 
a  desire  to  participate  in  these  profits.  He  re- 
minded his  fellow-citizens  how  much  he  had  paid 
for  their  ransom,  and  what  good  terms  he  had 
effected  for  them  ;  and  then  proposed  that  he 
should  have  one  tenth  of  what  they  gained  in 
traffic  with  the  Moslems,  to  reimburse  him.  They 
(Consented,  though  with  extreme  reluctance.  In 
a  few  days  he  found  the  gain  so  sweet  that  he 
thirsted  tor  more  ;  he  therefore  told  them  that  his 
reimbursement  would  be  tedious  at  this  rate,  and 
proposed  to  receive  one  fourth.  The  people,  en- 
raged at  his  cupidity,  rushed  on  him  with  furious 
outcries,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot.  The  noise 
of  the  tumult  reached  the  camp  of  Rah  Ibn  Ab- 
dallah, and  a  deputation  \)f  the  inhabitants  com- 
ing forth,  entreated  him  to  enter  the  city  and  gov- 
ern it  himself.  He  scrupled  to  depart  from  the 
terms  of  the  treaty  until  he  had  written  to  Abu 
Obeidah  ;  but  on  receiving  permission  from  the 
general,  he  entered  and  took  command.  Thus 
did  the  famous  Baalbec,  the  ancient  Heliopolis, 
or  City  of  the  Sun,  fall  under  the  Saracen  sway  on 
the  2oth  of  January,  A.D.  636,  being  the  fifteenth 
year  of  the  Hegira^ 


CHAPTER   XV. 

SIEGE  OF  EMESSA — STRATAGEMS  OF  THE  MOS- 
LEMS— FANATIC  DEVOTION  OF  IKREMAH — SUR- 
RENDER OF  THE  CITY. 

THE  year's  truce  with  the  city  of  Emessa  hav- 
ing now  expired,  Abu  Obeidah  appeared  before 
that  place,  and  summoned  it  in  the  following 
form  : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  most  merciful  God.  Abu 
Obeidah  Ibn  Aljerah,  general  of  the  armies  of  the 
Commander  of  the  Faithful,  Omar  al  Khattab,  to 
the  people  of  Emessa.  Let  not  the  loftiness  of 
your  walls,  the  strength  of  your  bulwarks,  nor  the 
robustness  of  your  bodies,  lead  you  into  error. 
Allah  hath  conquered  stronger  places  through  the 
means  of  his  servants.  Your  city  would  be  of  no 
more  consideration  against  us  than  a  kettle  of  pot- 
tage set  in  the  midst  of  our  camp. 

"  I  invite  you  to  embrace  our  holy  faith,  and  the 
law  revealed  to  our  prophet  Mahomet  ;  and  we 
will  send  pious  men  to  instruct  you,  and  you  shall 
participate  in  all  our  fortunes. 

"  If  you  refuse,  you  shall  still  be  left  in  posses- 
sion of  all  your  property  on  the  payment  of  annual 
tribute.  If  you  reject  both  conditions,  come  forth 
from  behind  your  stone  walls,  and  let  Allah,  the 
supreme  judge,  decide  between  us." 

This  summons  was  treated  with  scorn  ;  and  the 
garrison  made  a  bold  sally,  and  handled  their  be- 
siegers so  roughly  that  they  were  glad  when 
night  put  an  end  to  the  conflict.  In  the  evening 
a  crafty  old  Arab  sought  the  tent  of  Abu  Obei- 
dah ;  he  represented  the  strength  of  the  place,  the 
intrepidity  of  the  soldiers,  and  the  ample  stock  of 
provisions,  which  would  enable  it  to  stand  a 
weary  siege.  He  suggested  a  spfitagem,  how- 
ever, by  which  it  might  be  reduced  ;  and  Abu 
Obeidah  adopted  his  counsel.  Sending  a  messen- 
ger into  the  city,  he  offered  to  the  inhabitants  to 
strike  his  tents,  and  lead  his  troops  to  the  attack 
of  other  places,  provided  they  would  furnish  him 
provisions  for  five  days'  march.  His  offer  was 
promptly  accepted,  and  the  provisions  were  fur- 
nished. Abu  Obeidah  now  pretended  that,  as  his 
inarch  would  be  long,  a  greater  supply  would  be 
necessary  :  he  continued  to  buy,  therefore,  as 
long  as  the  Christians  had  provisions  to  sell,  and 
in  this  manner  exhausted  their  magazines  ;  and 
as  the  scouts  from  other  cities  beheld  the  people 
of  Emessa  throw  open  their  gates  and  bring  forth 
provisions,  it  became  rumored  throughout  the 
country  that  the  city  had  surrendered. 

Abu  Obeidah1,  according  to  promise,  led  his 
host  against  other  places.  The  first  was  Arres- 
tan,  a  fortified  city,  well  watered,  provisioned, 
and  garrisoned.  His  summons  being  repeated, 
and  rejected,  he  requested  the  governor  of  the 
place  to  let  him  leave  there  twenty  chests  of  cum- 
brous articles,  which  impeded  him  in  his  move- 
ments. The  request  was  granted  with  great 
pleasure  at  getting  clear  so  readily  of  such  maraud- 
ers. The  twenty  chests,  secured  with  padlocks, 
were  taken  into  the  citadel,  but  every  chest  had  a 
sliding  bottom,  and  contained  an  armed  man. 
Among  the  picked  warriors  thus  concealed  were 
Derar,  Abda'lrahman,  and  Abdallah  Ibn  Jaafar  ; 
while  Khaled,  with  a  number  of  troops  was  placed 
in  ambush  to  co-operate  with  those  in  the  chests. 

The  Moslem  host  departed.  The  Christians 
went  to  church  to  return  thanks  for  their  deliver- 
ance, and  the  sounds  of  their  hymns  of  triumph 
reached  the  ears  of  Derar  and  his  comrades. 


104 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Upon  this  they  issued  forth  from  their  chests, 
seized  the  wife  of  the  governor,  and  obtained  from 
her  the  keys  of  the  gates.  Abdallah,  with  four- 
teen men,  hastened  to  the  church  and  closed  the 
doors  upon  the  congregation  ;  while  Derar,  with 
four  companions,  threw  open  the  gates  with  the 
cry  of  Allah  Achbar  ;  upon  which  Khaled  and  his 
forces  rushed  from  their  ambuscade,  and  the  city 
was  taken  almost  without  bloodshed. 

The  city  of  Shaizar  was  next  assailed,  and  capit- 
ulated on  favorable  terms  ;  and  now  Abu  Obei- 
clah  returned  before  Emessa,  and  once  more  sum- 
moned it  to  surrender.  The  governor  remon- 
strated loudly,  reminding  the  Moslem  general  of 
his  treaty,  by  which  he  engaged  to  depart  from 
Emessa  and  carry  the  war  against  other  places. 
"  I  engaged  to  depart,"  replied  Abu  Obeidah, 
"  but  I  did  not  engage  not  to  return.  I  have  car- 
ried the  war  against  other  places,  and  have  sub- 
dued Arrestan  and  Shaizar." 

The  people  of  Emessa  now  perceived  how  they 
had  been  circumvented.  Their  magazines  had 
been  drained  of  provisions,  and  they  had  not 
wherewithal  to  maintain  them  against  a  siege. 
The  governor,  however,  encouraged  them  to  try 
the  chance  of  a  battle  as  before.  They  prepared 
for  the  fight  by  prayers  in  the  churches  ;  and  the 
governor  took  the  sacrament  in  the  church  of  St. 
George  ;  but  he  sought  to  enhearten  himself  by 
grosser  means,  for  we  are  told  he  ate  the  whole 
of  a  roasted  kid  for  his  supper,  and  caroused  on 
wine  until  the  crowing  of  the  cock.  In  the  morn- 
ing, early,  he  arrayed  himself  in  rich  apparel,  and 
sallied  forth  at  the  head  of  five  thousand  horsemen, 
all  men  of  strength  and  courage,  and  well  armed. 
They  charged  the  besiegers  so  bravely,  and  their 
archers  so  galled  them  from  the  walls,  that  the 
Moslem  force  gave  way. 

Khaled  now  threw  himself  in  front  of  the  battle, 
and  enacted  wondrous  feats  to  rally  his  soldiers 
and  restore  the  fight.  In  an  encounter,  hand  to 
hand,  with  a  Greek  horseman,  his  scimetar  broke, 
and  he  was  weaponless,  but  closing  with  his  ad- 
versary, he  clasped  him  in  his  arms,  crushed  his 
ribs,  and  drawing  him  from  his  saddle  threw  him 
dead  to  the  earth.  The  imminent  peril  of  the 
fight  roused  a  frantic  valor  in  the  Moslems.  In 
the  heat  of  enthusiasm  Ikremah,  a  youthful  cousin 
of  Khaled,  galloped  about  the  field,  fighting  with 
reckless  fury,  and  raving  about  the  joys  of  para- 
dise promised  to  all  true  believers  who  fell  in  the 
battles  of  the  faith.  "I  see,"  cried  he,  "the 
black-eyed  Houris  of  Paradise.  One  of  them,  if 
seen  on  earth,  would  make  mankind  die  of  love. 
They  are  smiling  on  us.  One  of  them  waves  a 
handkerchief  of  green  silk  and  holds  a  cup  of  pre- 
cious stones.  She  beckons  me  ;  come  hither 
quickly,  she  cries,  my  well  beloved  !"  In  this 
way  he  went,  shouting  Al  Jennah  !  Al  Jennah  ! 
Paradise  !  Paradise  !  charging  into  the  thickest 
of  the  Christians,  and  making  fearful  havoc,  until 
he  reached  the  place  where  the  governor  was 
fighting,  who  sent  a  javelin  through  his  heart, 
and  dispatched  him  in  quest  of  his  vaunted 
Elysium. 

Night  alone  parted  the  hosts,  and  the  Moslems 
retired  exhausted  to  their  tents,  glad  to  repose 
from  so  rude  a  fight.  Even  Khaled  counselled 
Abu  Obeidah  to  have  recourse  to  stratagem,  and 
make  a  pretended  fight  the  next  morning  ;  to 
draw  the  Greeks,  confident  through  this  day's 
success,  into  disorder  ;  for  while  collected  their 
phalanx  presented  an  impenetrable  wall  to  the 
Moslem  horsemen. 

Accordingly,   at  the  dawning  of  the  day,  the 


Moslems  retreated  :  at  first  with  a  show  of  order  ; 
then  with  a  feigned  confusion,  for  it  was  an  Arab 
stratagem  of  war  to  scatter  and  rally  again  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye.  The  Christians,  thinking 
their  flight  unfeigned,  broke  up  their  steady 
phalanx,  some  making  headlong  pursuit,  while 
others  dispersed  to  plunder  the  Moslem  camp. 

Suddenly  the  Moslems  faced  about,  surrounded 
the  contused  mass  of  Christians,  and  iell  upon  it, 
as  the  Arabian  historian  says,  "  like  eagles  upon 
a  carcass."  Khaled  and  Derar  and  other  chiefs 
spirited  them  on  with  shouts  of  Allah  Achbar,  and 
a  terrible  rout  and  slaughter  ensued.  The  num- 
ber of  Christian  corpses  on  that  field  exceeded  six- 
teen hundred.  The  governor  was  recognized 
among  the  slain  by  his  enormous  bulk,  his  bloated 
face,  and  his  costly  apparel,  fragrant  with  per- 
fumes. 

The  city  of  Emessa  surrendered  as  a  sequel  to 
that  fight,  but  the  Moslems  could  neither  stay  to 
take  possession  nor  afford  to  leave  a  garrison. 
Tidings  had  reached  them  of  the  approach  of  an 
immense  army,  composed  of  the  heavily  armed 
Grecian  soldiery  and  the  light  troops  of  the  desert, 
that  threatened  completely  to  overwhelm  them. 
Various  and  contradictory  were  the  counsels  in 
this  moment  of  agitation  and  alarm.  Some  ad- 
vised that  they  should  hasten  back  to  their  native 
deserts,  where  they  would  be  reinforced  by  their 
friends,  and  where  the  hostile  army  could  not  find 
sustenance  ;  but  Abu  Obeidah  objected  that  such 
a  retreat  would  be  attributed  to  cowardice. 
Others  cast  a  wistful  eye  upon  the  stately  dwell- 
ings, the  delightful  gardens,  the  fertile  fields,  and 
green  pastures,  which  they  had  just  won  by  the 
sword,  and  chose  rather  to  stay  and  fight  for  this 
land  of  pleasure  and  abundance  than  return  to  fam- 
ine and  the  desert.  Khaled  decided  the  question. 
It  would  not  do  to  linger  there,  he  said  ;  Constan- 
tine,  the  emperor's  son,  being  not  far  off,  at 
Caesarea,  with  forty  thousand  men  ;  he  advised, 
therefore,  that  they  should  march  to  Yermouk,  on 
the  borders  of  Palestine  and  Arabia,  where  they 
would  be  within  reach  of  assistance  from  the 
Caliph,  and  might  await,  with  confidence,  the  at- 
tack of  the  imperial  army.  The  advice  of  Khaled 
was  adopted. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

ADVANCE  OF  A  POWERFUL  IMPERIAL  ARMY- 
SKIRMISHES  OF  KHALED— CAPTURE  OF  DERAR 
— INTERVIEW  OF  KHALED  AND  MANUEL. 

THE  rapid  conquests  of  the  Saracens  had 
alarmed  the  emperor  Heraclius  for  the  safety  of 
his  rich  province  of  Syria.  Troops  had  been 
levied  both  in  Europe  and  Asia,  and  transported, 
by  sea  and  land,  to  various  parts  of  the  invaded 
country.  The  main  body,  consisting  of  eighty 
thousand  men  advanced  to  seek  the  Moslem  host, 
under  the  command  of  a  distinguished  general, 
called  Mahan,  by  the  Arabian  writers,  and 
Manuel  by  the  Greeks.  On  its  way  the  imperial 
army  was  joined  byjabalah  Ibn  al  Aynham,  chief 
or  king  ot  the  Christian  tribe  of  Gassan.  This 
Jabalah  had  professed  the  Mahometan  faith,  but 
had  apostatized  in  consequence  of  the  following 
circumstance.  He  had  accompanied  the  Caliph 
Omar  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  and  was  perform- 
ing the  religious  ceremony  of  the  Towah,  or 
sacred  walk  seven  times  round  the  Caaba,  when 
an  Arab  of  the  tribe  of  Fezarah  accidentally  trod 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


105 


on  the  skirt  of  his  Ihram  or  pilgrim  scarf,  so  as  to 
draw  it  from  his  shoulders.  Turning-  fiercely 
upon  the  Arab,  "  Woe  be  unto  thee,"  cried  he, 
"  for  uncovering  my  back  in  the  sacred  house  of 
God."  The  pilgrim  protested  it  was  an  accident, 
but  Jabalah  buffeted  him  in  the  face,  bruising  him 
sorely,  and  beating  out  four  of  his  teeth.  The  pil- 
grim complained  to  Omar,  but  Jabalah  justified 
himself,  stating  the  indignity  he  had  suffered. 
"  Had  it  not  been  for  my  reverence  for  the  Caaba, 
and  for  the  prohibition  to  shed  blood  within  the 
sacred  city,  I  would  have  slain  the  offender  on  the 
spot."  "Thou  hast  confessed  thy  fault,"  said 
Omar,  "  and  unless  forgiven  by  thy  adversary, 
must  submit  to  the  law  of  retaliation,  '  an  eye  for 
an  eye,  and  a  tooth  fora  tooth."  "  "I  am  a  king," 
replied  Jabalah,  proudly,  "  and  he  is  but  a  peas- 
ant." "  Ye  are  both  Moslems,"  rejoined  Omar, 
"  and  in  the  sight  of  Allah,  who  is  no  respecter 
of  persons,  ye  are  equal."  The  utmost  that 
Jabalah  could  obtain  from  the  rigid  justice  of 
Omar  was,  that  the  execution  of  the  sentence 
might  be  postponed  until  the  next  clay.  In  the 
night  he  made  his  escape  and  fled  to  Constantino- 
ple, where  he  abjured  Islamism,  resumed  the 
Christian  faith,  and  went  over  to  the  service  of 
the  emperor  Heraclius.  He  had  now  brought 
sixty  thousand  Arabs  to  the  aid  of  Manuel.  Such 
was  the  powerful  host,  the  approach  of  which  had 
compelled  the  Moslems  to  abandon  Emessa  on 
the  very  moment  of  surrender.  They  had 
marched  to  Yermouk,  a  place  noted  for  its  pleas- 
ant groves  and  the  sweet  salubrity  of  its  air,  and 
lay  encamped  on  the  banks  of  a  little  stream  of 
the  same  name,  heretofore  obscure,  but  now  des- 
tined to  become  famous  by  a  battle  decisive  of  the 
fate  of  Syria. 

Manuel  advanced  slowly  and  deliberately  with 
his  heavily  armed  Grecian  soldiery  ;  but  he  sent 
Jabalah  in  the  advance,  to  scour  the  country  with 
his  light  Arab  troops,  as  best  fitted  to  cope  with 
the  skirmishing  warriors  of  the  desert  ;  thus,  as 
he  said,  "  using  diamond  to  cut  diamond."  The 
course  of  these  combined  armies  was  marked  with 
waste,  rapine,  and  outrage,  and  they  inflicted  all 
kinds  of  injuries  and  indignities  on  those  Christian 
places  which  had  made  treaties  with  or  surren- 
dered to  the  Moslems. 

While  Manuel  with  his  main  army  was  yet  at  a 
distance,  he  sent  proposals  of  peace  to  Abu  Obei- 
dah,  according  to  the  commands  of  the  emperor. 
His  proposals  were  rejected  ;  but  Obeidah  sent 
several  messengers  to  Jabalah,  reproaching  him 
with  his  apostasy,  and  his  warfare  against  his 
countrymen,  and  endeavoring  to  persuade  him  to 
remain  neutral  in  the  impending  battle.  Jabalah 
replied,  however,  that  his  faith  was  committed  to 
the  emperor,  and  he  was  resolved  to  fight  in  his 
cause. 

Upon  this  Khaled  came  forward,  and  offered  to 
take  this  apostate  in  his  own  hands.  "  He  is  far 
in  the  advance  of  the  main  army,"  said  he  ;  "  let 
me  have  a  small  body  of  picked  men  chosen  by 
myself,  and  I  will  fall  upon  him  and  his  infidel 
Arabs  before  Manuel  can  come  up  to  their  assist- 
ance." 

His  proposal  was  condemned  by  many  as  rash 
and  extravagant.  "  By  no  means,"  cried  Khaled, 
with  zealous  zeal  ;  "  this  infidel  force  is  the 
army  of  the  devil,  and  can  do  nothing  against  the 
army  of  Allah,  who  will  assist  us  with  his  angels." 

So  pious  an  argument  was  unanswerable. 
Khaled  was  permitted  to  choose  his  men,  all 
well-seasoned  warriors  whose  valor  he  had  proved. 
With  them  he  fell  upon  Jabalah,  who  was  totally 


unprepared  for  so  hair-brained  an  assault,  threw 
his  host  into  complete  confusion,  and  obliged 
him,  alter  much  slaughter,  to  retreat  upon  the 
main  body.  The  triumph  of  Khaled,  however, 
was  damped  by  the  loss  of  several  valiant  officers, 
among  whom  were  Yezed,  Rafi,  and  Uerar,  who 
were  borne  off  captives  by  the  retreating  Chris- 
tians. 

In  the  mean  time  a  special  messenger,  named 
Abdallah  Ibn  Kort,  arrived  at  Medina,  bring- 
ing letters  to  the  Caliph  from  Abu  Obeidah,  de- 
scribing the  perilous  situation  of  the  Moslem 
army,  and  entreating  reinforcements.  The  Caliph 
ascended  the  pulpit  of  Mahomet,  and  preached  up 
the  glory  of  fighting  the  good  fight  of  faith  for 
God  and  the  prophet.  He  then  gave  Abdallah  an 
epistle  for  Abu  Obeidah,  filled  with  edifying  texts 
from  the  Koran,  and  ending  with  an  assurance 
that  he  would  pray  for  him,  and  would,  moreover, 
send  him  a  speedy  reinforcement.  This  clone,  he 
pronounced  a  blessing  on  Abdallah,  and  bade  him 
depart  with  all  speed. 

Abdallah  was  well  advanced  on  his  return, 
when  he  called  to  mind  that  he  had  omitted  to 
visit  the  tomb  of  the  prophet.  Shocked  at  hisfor- 
getfulness,  he  retraced  his  steps,  and  sought  the 
dwelling  of  Ayesha,  within  which  the  prophet  lay 
interred.  He  found  the  beautiful  widow  reclining 
beside  the  tomb,  and  listening  to  AH  and  Abbas,  , 
who  were  reading  the  Koran,  while  Hassan  and 
Hosein,  the  two  sons  of  AH  and  grandsons  of  the 
prophet,  were  sitting  on  their  knees. 

Having  paid  due  honors  to  the  prophet's  tomb, 
the  considerate  messenger  expressed  his  fears  that 
this  pious  visit  might  prevent  his  reaching  the 
army  before  the  expected  battle  ;  whereupon  the 
holy  party  lifted  up  their  hands  to  heaven,  and 
AH  put  up  a  prayer  for  his  speedy  journey.  Thus 
inspirited,  he  set  out  anew,  and  travelled  with 
such  unusual  and  incredible  speed  that  the  army 
looked  upon  it  as  miraculous,  and  attributed  it  to 
the  blessing  of  Omar  and  the  prayer  of  AH. 

The  promised  reinforcement  was  soon  on  foot. 
It  consisted  of  eight  thousand  men  under  the  com- 
mand of  Seicl  Ibn  Amir,  to  whom  the  Caliph  gave 
a  red  silk  banner,  and  a  word  of  advice  at  part- 
ing ;  cautioning  him  to  govern  himself  as  well  as 
his  soldiers,  and  not  to  let  his  appetites  get  the 
better  of  his  self-command. 

Seicl,  with  Moslem  frankness,  counselled  him, 
in  return,  to  fear  God  and  not  man  ;  to  love  all 
Moslems  equally  with  his  own  kindred  ;  to  cherish 
those  at  a  distance  equally  with  those  at  hand  ; 
finally,  to  command  nothing  but  what  was  right 
and  to  forbid  nothing  but  what  was  wrong.  The 
Caliph  listened  attentively,  his  forehead  resting  on 
his  staff  and  his  eyes  cast  upon  the  ground.  When 
Seid  had  finished,  he  raised  his  head,  and  the  tears 
ran  down  his  cheek.  "Alas!"  said  he,,  "who 
can  do  all  this  without  the  aid  of  Go:l." 

Seid  Ibn  Amir  led  his  force  by  the  shortest 
route  across  the  'deserts,  and  hurrying  forward 
with  more  rapidity  than  heed,  lost  his  way. 
While  he  halted  one  night,  in  the  vicinity  of  some 
springs,  to  ascertain  his  route,  he  was  apprised 
by  his  scouts  that  the  prefect  of  Ammon,  with 
five  thousand  men,  was  near  at  hand.  He  fell 
upon  him  instantly  and  cut  the  infantry  to  pieces. 
The  prefect  fled  with  his  cavalry,  but  encountered 
a  foraging  party  from  the  Moslem  camp,  the 
leader  of  which,  Zobeir,  thrust  a  lance  through 
his  body,  and  between  the  two  parties  not  a  man 
of  his  troop  escaped.  The  Moslems  then  placed 
the  heads  of  the  Christians  on  their  lances,  and 
arrived  with  their  ghastly  trophies  at  the  camp, 


106 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


to  the  great  encouragement  of  Abu  Obeidah  and 
his  host. 

The  imperial  army  had  now  drawn  near,  and 
Manuel,  the  general,  attempted  again  to  enter 
into  negotiations.  Khaled  offered  to  go  and  con- 
fer with  him  ;  but  his  real  object  was  to  attempt 
the  release  of  his  friends  and  brethren  in  arms, 
Abu  Sofian,  Derar,  Rafi,  and  the  two  other  offi- 
cers captured  in  the  late  skirmish  with  the  apos- 
tate Jabalah. 

When  Khaled  reached  the  outpost  of  the  Chris- 
tian army,  he  was  required  to  leave  his  escort  of 
one  hundred  chosen  warriors,  and  proceed  alone 
to  the  presence  of  the  general  ;  but  he  re- 
fused. He  equally  refused  a  demand  that  he  and 
his  men  should  dismount  and  deliver  up  their 
scimetars.  After  some  parley  he  was  permitted 
to  enter  into  the  presence  of  the  general  in  his 
own  way. 

Manuel  was  seated  in  state  on  a  kind  of  throne, 
surrounded  by  his  officers,  all  splendidly  arrayed, 
while  Khaled  entered  with  his  hundred  war-worn 
veterans,  clad  in  the  simplest  guise.  Chairs  were 
set  out  for  him  and  his  principal  companions,  but 
they  pushed  them  aside  and  seated  themselves 
cross-legged  on  the  ground,  after  the  Arabic  man- 
ner. When  Manuel  demanded  the  reason, 
Khaled  replied  by  quoting  a  verse  from  the  twen- 
tieth chapter  of  the  Koran.  "  Of  earth  ye  are  cre- 
ated, from  earth  ye  came,  and  unto  earth  ye  must 
return."  "God  made  the  earth,"  added  he, 
"  and  what  God  has  made  for  men  to  sit  upon  is 
more  precious  that  your  silken  tapestries." 

The  conference  was  begun  by  Manuel,  who  ex- 
postulated on  the  injustice  of  the  Moslems  in  mak- 
ing an  unprovoked  inroad  into  the  territories  of 
their  neighbors,  molesting  them  in  their  religious 
worship,  robbing  them  of  their  wives  and  prop- 
erty, and  seizing  on  their  persons  as  slaves. 
Khaled  retorted,  that  it  was  all  owing  to  their 
own  obstinacy,  in  refusing  to  acknowledge  that 
there  was  but  one  God,  without  relation  or  asso- 
ciate, and  that  Mahomet  was  his  prophet.  Their 
discussion  grew  violent,  and  Khaled,  in  his  heat, 
told  Manuel  that  he  should  one  day  see  him 
dragged  into  the  presence  of  Omar  with  a  halter 
round  his  neck,  there  to  have  his  head  struck  off 
as  an  example  to  all  infidels  and  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  true  believers. 

Manuel  replied,  in  wrath,  that  Khaled  was  pro- 
tected by  his  character  of  ambassador  ;  but  that 
he  would  punish  his  insolence  by  causing  the  five 
Moslem  captives,  his  friends,  to  be  instantly  be- 
headed. Khaled  defied  him  to  execute  his  threat, 
swearing  by  Allah,  by  his  prophet,  and  by  the  holy 
Caaba,  that  if  a  hair  of  their  heads  were  injured, 
he  would  slay  Manuel  with  his  own  hand  on  the 
spot,  and  that  each  of  his  Moslems  present  should 
slay  his  man.  So  saying,  he  rose  and  drew  his 
scimetar,  as  did  likewise  his  companions. 

The  imperial  general  was  struck  with  admira- 
tion at  his  intrepidity.  He  replied  calmly,  that 
what  he  had  said  was  a  mere  threat,  which  his 
humanity  and  his  respect  for  the  mission  of 
Khaled  would  not  permit  him  to  fulfil.  The  Sara- 
cens were  pacified  and  sheathed  their  swords, 
and  the  conference  went  on  calmly. 

In  the  end,  Manuel  gave  up  the  five  prisoners 
to  Khaled  as  a  token  of  his  esteem  ;  and  in  return 
Khaled  presented  him  with  a  beautiful  scarlet 
pavilion,  which  he  had  brought  with  him,  and 
pitched  in  the  Christian  camp,  and  for  which 
Manuel  had  expressed  a  desire.  Thus  ended  this 
conference,  and  both  parties  retired  from  it  with 
soldier-like  regard  for  each  other. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  YERMOUK. 

THE  great  battle  was  now  at  hand  that  was  to 
determine  the  fate  of  Syria,  for  the  emperor  had 
staked  the  fortunes  of  this  favorite  province  on  a 
single  but  gigantic  blow.  Abu  Obeidah,  con- 
scious of  the  momentous  nature  of  the  conflict, 
and  diffident  of  his  abilities  in  the  field,  gave  a 
proof  of  his  modesty  and  magnanimity  by  restoring 
to  Khaled  the  command  of  the  whole  army.  For 
himself  he  took  his  station  with  the  women  in  the 
rear,  that  he  might  rally  the  Moslems  should  any 
of  them  be  inclined  to  fly  the  field.  Here  he 
erected  his  standard,  a  yellow  flag,  given  him  by 
Abu  Beker,  being  the  same  which  Mahomet  had 
displayed  in  the  battle  of  Khaibar. 

Before  the  action  commenced  Khaled  rode 
among  his  troops,  making  a  short  but  emphatic 
speech.  "  Paradise,"  cried  he,  "  is  before  you  ; 
the  devil  and  hell  behind.  Fight  bravely,  and 
you  will  secure  the  one  ;  fly,  and  you  will  fall  into 
the  other." 

The  armies  closed,  but  the  numbers  of  the 
Christians  and  the  superiority  of  Greek  and 
Roman  discipline  bore  down  the  right  wing  of 
the  Moslems.  Those,  however,  who  turned  their 
backs  and  attempted  to  fly  were  assailed  with  re- 
proaches and  blows  by  the  women,  so  that  they 
found  it  easier  to  face  the  enemy  than  such  a 
storm.  Even  Abu  Sofian  himself  received  a  blow 
over  the  face  with  a  tent-pole  from  one  of  those 
viragoes,  as  he  retreated  before  the  enemy. 

Thrice  were  the  Moslems  beaten  back  by  the 
steady  bearing  of  the  Grecian  phalanx,  and  thrice 
were  they  checked  and  driven  back  to  battle  by 
the  women.  Night  at  length  brought  a  cessation 
of  the  bloody  conflict  ;  when  Abu  Obeidah  went 
round  among  the  wounded,  ministering  to  them 
with  his  own  hands,  while  the  women  bound,  up 
their  wounds  with  tender  care. 

The  battle  was  renewed  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, and  again  the  Moslems  were  sorely  pressed. 
The  Christian  archers  made  fearlul  havoc,  and 
such  was  their  dexterity  that,  among  the  great 
number  of  Moslems  who  suffered  from  their 
arrows  on  that  day,  seven  hundred  lost  one  or  both 
eyes.  Hence  it  was  commemorated  as  "  the  Day 
of  the  Blinding  ;"  and  those  who  had  received 
such  wounds  gloried  in  them,  in  after  years,  as  so 
many  trophies  of  their  having  struggled  lor  the 
faith  in  that  day  of  hard  fighting.  There  were 
several  single  combats  of  note  ;  among  others, 
Serjabil  was  engaged  hand  to  hand  with  a  stout 
Christian  ;  but  Serjabil,  having  signalized  his  piety 
by  excessive  watching  and  fasting,  was  so  reduced 
in  flesh  and  strength  that  he  was  no  match  for 
his  adversary,  and  would  infallibly  have  been 
overpowered  had  not  Derar  come  behind  the 
Christian  and  stabbed  him  to  the  heart.  Both 
warriors  claimed  the  spoil,  but  it  was  adjudged  to 
him  who  slew  the  enemy.  In  the  course  of  this 
arduous  day  the  Moslems  more  than  once 
wavered,  but  were  rallied  back  by  the  valor  of  the 
women.  Caulah,  the  heroic  sister  of  Derar, 
mingling  in  the  fight,  was  wounded  and  struck 
down  ;  but  Offeirah,  her  female  friend,  smote  off 
the  head  of  her  opponent,  and  rescued  her.  The 
battle  lasted  as  long  as  there  was  light  enough  to 
distinguish  friend  from  foe  ;  but  the  night  was  wel- 
come to  the  Moslems,  who  needed  all  their  enthu- 
siasm and  reliance  on  the  promises  of  the  prophet 
to  sustain  them,  so  hard  was  the  struggle  and  so 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


107 


overwhelming  the  numbers  of  the  enemy.  On 
this  night  the  good  Abu  Obeidah  repeated  at 
once  the  prayers  belonging  to  two  separate  hours, 
that  his  weary  soldiers  might  enjoy  uninterrupted 
sleep. 

For  several  successive  days  this  desperate  bat- 
tle, on  which  hung  the  fate  of  Syria,  was  renewed 
with  various  fortunes.  In  the  end  the  fanatic 
valor  of  the  Moslems  prevailed  ;  the  Christian  host 
was  completely  routed  and  fled  in  all  directions. 
Many  were  overtaken  and  slain  in  the  difficult 
passes  of  the  mountains  ;  others  perished  in  a 
deep  part  of  the  river  to  which  they  were  decoyed 
by  one  of  their  own  people,  in  revenge  for  an  in- 
jury. Manuel,  the  imperial  general,  fell  by  the 
hand  of  a  Moslem  named  Noman  Ibn  Alkamah. 

Abu  Obeidah  went  over  the  battle-field  in  per- 
son, seeing  that  the  wounded  Moslems  were  well 
taken  care  ot,  and  the  slain  decently  interred. 
He  was  perplexed  for  a  time  on  finding  some 
heads  without  bodies,  to  know  whether  they  were 
Moslems  or  infidels,  but  finally  prayed  over  them 
at  a  venture  and  had  them  buried  like  the  rest. 

In  dividing  the  spoils,  Abu  Obeidah,  after  set- 
ting aside  one  fifth  for  the  Caliph  and  the  public 
treasury,  allotted  to  each  foot  soldier  one  portion 
and  to  each  horseman  three  —two  for  himself  and 
one  for  his  steed  ;  but  for  each  horse  of  the  pure 
Arabian  breed  he  allowed  a  double  portion. 
This  last  allotment  met  with  opposition,  but  was 
subsequently  confirmed  by  the  Caliph,  on  account 
of  the  superior  value  of  true  Arabian  horses. 

Such  was  the  great  battle  fought  on  the  banks 
of  the  Yermouk,  near  the  city  of  that  name,  in  the 
month  of  November  A.D.  636,  and  in  the  isth 
year  of  the  Hegira. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 


SIEGE  AND   CAPTURE  OF  JERUSALEM. 

THE  Moslem  invaders  reposed  for  a  month  at 
Damascus  from  the  toil  of  conquest,  during  which 
time  Abu  Obeidah  sent  to  the  Caliph  to  know 
whether  he  should  undertake  the  siege  of  Cassarea 
or  Jerusalem.  Ali  was  with  Omar  at  the  time, 
and  advised  the  instant  siege  of  the  latter  ;  for 
such,  he  said,  had  been  the  intention  of  the  proph- 
et. The  enterprise  against  Jerusalem  was  as 
a  holy  war  to  the  Moslems,  for  they  reverenced  it 
as  an  ancient  seat  of  prophecy  and  revelation, 
connected  with  the  histories  of  Moses,  Jesus,  and 
Mahomet,  and  sanctified  by  containing  the  tombs 
of  several  of  the  ancient  prophets.  The  Caliph 
adopted  the  advice  of  Ali,  and  ordered  Abu  Obei- 
dah to  lead  his  army  into  Palestine,  and  lay  siege 
to  Jerusalem. 

On  receiving  these  orders,  Abu  Obeidah  sent 
forward  Yezed  Abu  Sofian  with  five  thousand 
men,  to  commence  the  siege,  and  for  five  success- 
ive days  detached  after  him  considerable  rein- 
forcements. The  people  of  Jerusalem  saw  the 
approach  of  these  portentous  invaders,  who  were 
spreading  such  consternation  throughout  the  East, 
but  they  made  no  sally  to  oppose  them,  nor  sent 
out  any  one  to  parley,  but  planted  engines  on 
tneir  walls,  and  prepared  for  vigorous  defence. 
Yezed  approached  the  city  and  summoned  it  by 
sound  of  trumpet,  propounding  the  customary 
Icrms,  profession  of  the  faith  or  tribute  :  both 
were  rejected  with  disdain.  The  Moslems  would 
have  made  instant  assault;  but  Yezed  had  no  such 


instructions  :  he  encamped,  therefore,  and  waited 
until  orders  arrived  from  Abu  Obeidah  to  attack 
the  city,  when  he  made  the  necessary  preparations. 

At  cock-crow  in  the  morning  the  Moslem  host 
was  marshalled,  the  leaders  repeated  the  matin 
prayer  each  at  the  head  of  his  battalion,  and  all, 
as  if  by  one  consent,  with  a  loud  voice  gave  the 
verse  from  the  Koran,*  "  Enter  ye,  oh  people, 
into  the  holy  land  which  Allah  hath  destined  for 
you." 

For  ten  days  they  made  repeated  but  unavailing 
attacks  ;  on  the  eleventh  day  Abu  Obeidah 
brought  the  whole  army  to  their  aid.  He  imme- 
diately sent  a  written  summons  requiring  the  in- 
habitants to  believe  in  the  unity  of  God,  the  divine 
mission  of  Mahomet,  the  resurrection  and  final 
judgment  ;  or  else  to  acknowledge  allegiance, 
and  pay  tribute  to  the  Caliph  ;  "  otherwise,"  con- 
cluded the  letter,  "  I  will  bring  men  against  you, 
who  love  death  better  than  you  love  wine  or 
swine's  flesh  ;  nor  will  I  leave  you,  God  willing, 
until  I  have  destroyed  your  fighting  men,  and 
made  slaves  of  your  children." 

The  summons  was  addressed  to  the  magistrates 
and  principal  inhabitants  of  vElia,  for  so  Jerusa- 
lem was  named  after  the  emperor  ^Elius  Adrian, 
when  he  rebuilt  that  city. 

Sophronius,  the  Christian  patriarch,  or  bishop 
of  Jerusalem,  replied  that  this  was  the  holy  city, 
and  the  holy  land,  and  that  whoever  entered 
either,  for  a  hostile  purpose,  was  an  offender  in 
the  eyes  of  God.  He  felt  some  confidence  in  set- 
ting the  invaders  at  defiance,  for  the  walls  and 
towers  of  the  city  had  been  diligently  strength- 
ened, and  the  garrison  had  been  reinforced  by  fu- 
gitives from  Yermouk,  and  from  various  parts  of 
Syria.  The  city,  too,  was  strong  in  its  situation, 
being  surrounded  by  deep  ravines  and  a  broken 
country  ;  and  above  all  there  was  a  pious  incen- 
tive to  courage  and  perseverance  in  defending  the 
sepulchre  of  Christ. 

Four  wintry  months  elapsed  ;  every  day  there 
were  sharp  skirmishings  ;  the  besiegers  were  as- 
sailed by  sallying  parties,  annoyed  by  the  engines 
on  the  walls,  and  harassed  by  the  inclement 
weather  ;  still  they  carried  on  the  siege  with  un- 
diminished  spirit.  At  length  the  Patriarch  So- 
phronius held  a  parley  from  the  walls  with  Abu 
Obeidah.  "  Do  you  not  know,"  said  he,  "  that 
this  city  is  holy  ;  and  that  whoever  offers  violence 
to  it,  draws  upon  his  head  the  vengeance  of 
Heaven  ?" 

"  We  know  it,"  replied  Abu  Obeidah,  "  to  be 
the  house  of  the  prophets,  where  their  bodies  lie 
interred  ;  we  know  it  to  be  the  place  whence  our 
prophet  Mahomet  made  his  nocturnal  ascent  to 
heaven  ;  and  we  know  that  we  are  more  worthy 
of  possessing  it  than  you  are,  nor  will  we  raise 
the  siege  until  Allah  has  delivered  it  into  our 
hands,  as  he  has  done  many  other  places." 

Seeing  there  was  no  further  hope,  the  patriarch 
consented  to  give  up  the  city,  on  condition  that  the 
Caliph  would  come  in  person  to  take  possession 
and  sign  the  articles  of  surrender. 

When  this  unusual  stipulation  was  made  known 
to  the  Caliph,  he  held  a  council  with  his  friends. 
Othman  despised  the  people  of  Jerusalem,  and 
was  for  refusing  their  terms,  but  Ali  represented 
the  sanctity  and  importance  of  the  place  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Christians,  which  might  prompt  them 
to  reinforce  it,  and  to  make  a  desperate  defence 


*  These  words  are  from  the  fifth  chapter  of  the 
Koran,  where  Mahomet  puts  them  into  the  mouth  of 
Moses,  as  addressed  to  the  children  of  Israel. 


108 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


if  treated  with  indignity.  Besides,  he  added,  the 
presence  of  the  Caliph  would  cheer  and  inspirit 
the  army  in  their  long  absence,  and  after  the 
hardships  of  a  wintry  campaign. 

The  words  of  Ali  had  their  weight  with  the 
Caliph  :  though  certain  Arabian  writers  pretend 
that  he  was  chiefly  moved  by  a  tradition  handed 
down  in  Jerusalem  from  days  of  yore,  which  said, 
that  a  man  of  his  name,  religion,  and  personal 
appearance,  should  conquer  the  holy  city.  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  inducements,  the  Caliph 
resolved  to  receive,  in  person,  the  surrender  of 
Jerusalem.  He  accordingly  appointed  Ali  to  offi- 
ciate in  his  place  during  his  absence  from  Medi- 
na ;  then,  having  prayed  at  the  mosque,  and 
paid  a  pious  visit  to  the  tomb  of  the  prophet,  he 
set  out  on  his  journey. 

The  progress  of  this  formidable  potentate,  who 
already  held  the  destinies  of  empires  in  his  grasp, 
and  had  the  plunder  of  the  Orient  at  his  com- 
mand, is  characteristic  of  the  primitive  days  of 
Mahometanism,  and  reveals,  in  some  measure, 
the  secret  of  its  success.  He  travelled  on  a  red 
or  sorrel  camel,  across  which  was  slung  an 
alforja,  or  wallet,  with  a  huge  sack  or  pocket  at 
each  end,  something  like  the  modern  saddle-bags. 
One  pocket  contained  dates  and  dried  fruits,  the 
other  a  provision  called  sawik,  which  was  nothing 
more  than  barley,  rice,  or  wheat,  parched  or  sod- 
den. Before  him  hung  a  leathern  bottle,  or  sack, 
for  water,  and  behind  him  a  wooden  platter.  His 
companions,  without  distinction  of  rank,  ate  with 
him  out  of  the  same  dish,  using  their  fingers  ac- 
cording to  Oriental  usage.  He  slept  at  night  on 
a  mat  spread  out  under  a  tree,  or  under  a  com- 
mon Bedouin  tent  of  hair-cloth,  and  never  re- 
sumed his  march  until  he  had  offered  up  the 
morning  prayer. 

As  he  journeyed  through  Arabia  in  this  simple 
way,  he  listened  to  the  complaints  of  the  people, 
redressed  their  grievances,  and  administered  jus- 
tice with  sound  judgment  and  a  rigid  hand.  In- 
formation was  brought  to  him  of  an  Arab  who 
was  married  to  two  sisters,  a  practice  not  un- 
usual among  idolaters,  but  the  man  was  now  a 
Mahometan.  Omar  cited  the  culprit  and  his  two 
wives  into  his  presence,  and  taxed  him  roundly 
with  his  offence  ;  but  he  declared  his  ignorance 
that  it  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  the  prophet. 

"  Thou  liest  !"  said  Omar  ;  "  thou  shalt  part 
with  one  of  them  instantly,  or  lose  thy  head  !" 

"  Evil  was  the  day  that  I  embraced  such  a  re- 
ligion," muttered  the  culprit.  "  Of  what  advan- 
tage has  it  been  to  me  ?" 

"  Come  nearer  to  me,"  said  Omar  ;  and  on  his 
approaching,  the  Caliph  bestowed  two  wholesome 
blows  on  his  head  with  his  walking-staff. 

"  Enemy  ol  God  and  of  thyself,"  cried  he,  "let 
these  blows  reform  thy  manners,  and  teach  thee 
to  speak  with  more  reverence  of  a  religion  ordained 
by  Allah,  and  acknowledged  by  the  best  of  his 
creatures." 

He  then  ordered  the  offender  to  choose  between 
his  wives,  and  finding  him  at  a  loss  which  to  pre- 
fer, the  matter  was  determined  by  lot,  and  he  was 
dismissed  by  the  Caliph  with  this  parting  admo- 
nition :  "  Whoever  professes  Islam,  and  afterward 
renounces  it,  is  punishable  with  death  ;  therefore 
take  heed  to  your  faith.  And  as  to  your  wife's 
sister,  whom  you  have  put  away,  if  ever  I  hear 
that  you  have  meddled  with  her,  you  shall  be 
stoned." 

At  another  place  he  beheld  a  number  of  men 
exposed  to  the  burning  heat  of  the  sun  by  their 
Moslem  conquerors,  as  a  punishment  for  failing 


to  pay  their  tribute.  Finding,  on  inquiry,  that 
they  were  entirely  destitute  of  means,  he  ordered 
them  to  be  released  ;  and  turning  reproachfully 
to  their  oppressors,  "Compel  no  men,"  said  he, 
"  to  more  than  they  can  bear  ;  for  I  heard  the 
apostle  of  God  say  he  who  afflicts  his  fellow  man  in 
this  world  will  be  punished  with  the  fire  of  Jehen- 
nam." 

While  yet  within  a  day's  journey  of  Jerusalem, 
Abu  Obeidah  came  to  meet  him  and  conduct  him 
to  the  camp.  The  Caliph  proceeded  with  due  de- 
liberation, never  forgetting  his  duties  as  a  priest 
and  teacher  of  Islam.  In  the  morning  he  said  the 
usual  prayers,  and  preached  a  sermon,  in  which 
he  spoke  of  the  security  of  those  whom  God  should 
lead  in  the  right  way  ;  but  added,  that  there  was 
no  help  for  such  as  God  should  lead  into  error. 

A  gray-headed  Christian  priest,  who  sat  before 
him,  could  not  resist  the  opportunity  to  criticise 
the  language  of  the  Caliph  preacher.  "  God  leads 
no  man  into  error,"  said  he,  aloud. 

Omar  deigned  no  direct  reply,  but,  turning  to 
those  around,  "  Strike  off  that  old  man's  head," 
said  he,  "  if  he  repeats  his  words." 

The  old  man  was  discreet,  and  held  his  peace. 
There  was  no  arguing  against  the  sword  of  Islam. 

On  his  way  to  the  camp  Omar  beheld  a  number 
of  Arabs,  who  had  thrown  by  the  simple  garb  of 
their  country,  and  arrayed  themselves  in  the  silk- 
en spoils  of  Syria.  He  saw  the  clanger  of  this 
luxury  and  effeminacy,  and  ordered  that  they 
should  be  dragged  with  their  faces  in  the  dirt,  and 
their  silken  garments  torn  from  their  backs. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  Jerusalem  he  lifted 
up  his  voice  and  exclaimed,  "  Allah  Achbar  ! 
God  is  mighty  !  God  grant  us  an  easy  con- 
quest !"  Then  commanding  his  tent  to  be 
pitched,  he  dismounted  from  his  camel  and  sat 
down  within  it  on  the  ground.  The  Christians 
thronged  to  see  the  sovereign  of  this  new  and 
irresistible  people,  who  were  overrunning  and 
subduing  the  earth.  The  Moslems,  fearful  of  an 
attempt  at  assassination,  would  have  kept  them 
at  a  distance,  but  Omar  rebuked  their  fears. 
"  Nothing  will  befall  us  but  what  God  hath  de- 
creed. Let  the  iaithful  trust  in  him." 

The  arrival  of  the  Caliph  was  followed  by  im- 
mediate capitulation.  When  the  deputies  from 
Jerusalem  were  admitted  to  a  parley,  they  were 
astonished  to  find  this  dreaded  potentate  a  bald- 
headed  man,  simply  clad,  and  seated  on  the 
ground  in  a  tent  of  hair-cloth. 

The  articles  of  surrender  were  drawn  up  in 
writing  by  Omar,  and  served  afterward  as  a 
model  for  the  Moslem  leaders  in  other  conquests. 
The  Christians  were  to  build  no  new  churches  in 
the  surrendered  territory.  The  church  doors  were 
to  be  set  open  to  travellers,  and  free  ingress  per- 
mitted to  Mahometans  by  day  and  night.  The 
bells  should  only  toll,  and  not  ring,  and  no 
crosses  should  be  erected  on  the  churches,  nor 
shown  publicly  in  the  streets.  The  Christians 
should  not  teach  the  Koran  to  their  children  ;  nor 
speak  openly  of  their  religion  ;  nor  attempt  to 
make  proselytes  ;  nor  hinder  their  kinsfolk  from 
embracing  Islam.  They  should  not  assume 
the  Moslem  dress,  either  caps,  slippers,  or  tur- 
bans, nor  part  their  hair  like  Moslems,  but  should 
always  be  distinguished  by  girdles.  They  should 
not  use  the  Arabian  language  in  inscriptions  on 
their  signets,  nor  salute  after  the  Moslem  man- 
ner, nor  be  called  by  Moslem  surnames.  They 
should  rise  on  the  entrance  of  a  Moslem,  and  re- 
main standing  until  he  should  be  seated.  They 
should  entertain  every  Moslem  traveller  three 


AA1ERSKIU    IRVING 


Copyright  lf>8l  by  POl.LA.HD  4  MOSS. 


S.'/r    a/'.'  Jff/7trvnf  /  /'mff  /t//t. 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


109 


days  gratis.  They  should  sell  no  wine,  bear  no 
arms,  and  use  no  saddle  in  riding-  ;  neither  should 
they  have  any  domestic  who  had  been  in  Moslem 
service. 

Such  were  the  degrading  conditions  imposed 
upon  the  proud  city  ot  Jerusalem,  once  the  glory 
and  terror  of  the  East,  by  the  leader  of  a  host  of 
wandering  Arabs.  They  were  the  conditions 
generally  imposed  by  the  Moslems  in  their  fanat- 
ical career  or  conquest.  Utter  scorn  and  abhor- 
rence of  their  religious  adversaries  formed  one  of 
the  main  pillars  of  their  faith. 

The  Christians  having  agreed  to  surrender  on 
these  terms,  the  Caliph  gave  them,  under  his  own 
hand,  an  assurance  of  protection  in  their  lives 
and  fortunes,  the  use  ot  their  churches,  and  the 
exercise  of  their  religion. 

Omar  entered  the  once  splendid  city  of  Solomon 
on  foot,  in  his  simple  Arab  garb,  with  his  walk- 
ing-staff in  his  hand,  and  accompanied  by  the 
venerable  Sophronius,  with  whom  he  talked  famil- 
iarly, inquiring  about  the  antiquities  and  public 
edifices.  The  worthy  patriarch  treated  the  con- 
queror with  all  outward  deference,  but,  if  we  may 
trust  the  words  of  a  Christian  historian,  he  loathed 
the  dirty  Arab  in  his  heart,  and  was  particularly 
disgusted  with  his  garb  of  coarse  woollen,  patched 
with  sheepskin.  His  disgust  was  almost  irre- 
pressible when  they  entered  the  church  of  the 
Resurrection,  and  Sophronius  beheld  the  Caliph 
in  his  filthy  attire,  seated  in  the  midst  of  the 
sacred  edifice.  "  This,  of  a  truth,"  exclaimed  he, 
"  is  the  abomination  of  desolation  predicted 
by  Daniel  the  prophet,  standing  in  the  holy 
place." 

It  is  added  that,  to  pacify  the  cleanly  scruples 
of  the  patriarch,  Omar  consented  to  put  on  clean 
raiment  which  he  offered  him,  until  his  own  gar- 
ments were  washed. 

An  instance  of  the  strict  good  faith  of  Omar  is 
related  as  occurring  on  this  visit  to  the  Christian 
temples.  While  he  was  standing  with  the  patri- 
arch in  the  church  of  the  Resurrection,  one  of  the 
stated  hours  for  Moslem  worship  arrived,  and  he 
demanded  where  he  might  pray.  "  Where  you 
now  are,"  replied  the  patriarch.  Omar,  however, 
refused,  and  went  forth.  The  patriarch  conduct- 
ed him  to  the  church  of  Constantine,  and  spread 
a  mat  for  him  to  pray  there  ;  but  again  he  re- 
fused. On  going  forth,  he  knelt,  and  prayed  on 
the  flight  of  steps  leading  down  from  the  east  gate 
of  the  church.  This  done,  he  turned  to  the  patri- 
arch, and  gave  him  a  generous  reason  for  his  con- 
duct. "  Had  I  prayed  in  either  of  the  churches," 
said  he,  "the  Moslems  would  have  taken  posses- 
sion of  it,  and  consecrated  it  as  a  mosque." 

So  scrupulous  was  he  in  observing  his  capitula- 
tions respecting  the  churches,  that  he  gave  the 
patriarch  a  writing,  forbidding  the  Moslems  to 
pray  upon  the  steps  where  he  had  prayed,  except 
one  person  at  a  time.  The  zeal  of  the  faithful, 
however,  outstripped  their  respect  for  his  com- 
mands, and  one  half  of  the  steps  and  porch  was 
afterward  included  in  a  mosque  built  over  the 
spot  which  he  had  accidentally  sanctified. 

The  Caliph  next  sought  the  place  where  the 
temple  of  Solomon  had  stood,  where  he  founded 
a  mosque  ;  which,  in  after  times,  being  enlarged 
and  enriched  by  succeeding  Caliphs,  became  one 
of  the  noblest  edifices  ot  Isalm  worship,  and  sec- 
ond only  to  the  magnificent  mosque  of  Cor- 
dova. 

The  surrender  of  Jerusalem  took  place  in  the 
seventeenth  year  of  the  Hegira,  and  the  six  hun- 
dred and  thirty-seventh  year  of  the  Christian  era. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 


PROGRESS  OF  THE  MOSLEM  ARMS  IN  SYRIA — 
SIEGE  OF  ALEPPO — OBSTINATE  DEFENCE  BY 
YOUKENNA — EXPLOIT  OF  DAMAS — CAPTURE  OF 
THE  CASTLE — CONVERSION  OF  YOUKENNA. 

THE  Caliph  Omar  remained  ten  days  in  Jerusa- 
lem, regulating  the  great  scheme  of  Islam  con- 
quest. To  complete  the  subjugation  of  Syria,  he 
divided  it  into  two  parts.  Southern  Syria,  con- 
sisting of  Palestine  and  the  maritime  towns,  he 
gave  in  charge  to  Yezed  Ibn  Abu  Sofian,  with  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  army  to  enable  him  to 
master  it  ;  while  Abu  Obeidah,  with  a  larger 
force,  had  orders  promptly  to  reduce  all  northern 
Syria,  comprising  the  country  lying  between 
Hauran  and  Aleppo.  At  the  same  time,  Amru 
Ibn  al  Aass,  with  a  body  ot  Moslem  troops,  was 
ordered  to  invade  Egypt,  which  venerable  and 
once  mighty  empire  was  then  in  a  state  of  melan- 
choly decline.  Such  were  the  great  plans  of  Is- 
lam conquest  in  these  regions  ;  while  at  the  same 
time,  Saad  Ibn  Abi  Wakkas,  another  of  Omar's 
generals,  was  pursuing  a  career  of  victories  in 
the  Persian  territories. 

The  return  of  Omar  to  Medina  was  hailed  with 
joy  by  the  inhabitants,  for  they  had  regarded  with 
great  anxiety  and  apprehension  his  visit  to  Jerusa- 
lem. They  knew  the  salubrity  of  the  climate,  the 
fertility  of  the  country,  and  the  sacred  character 
of  the  city,  containing  the  tombs  of  the  prophets, 
and  being  the  place,  according  to  Moslem  belief, 
where  all  mankind  were  to  be  assembled  in  the 
day  of  the  resurrection.  They  had  feared,  there- 
fore, that  he  would  be  tempted  to  fix  his  resi- 
dence, for  the  rest  of  his  days,  in  that  consecrated 
city.  Great  was  their  joy,  therefore,  when  they 
saw  their  Caliph  re-enter  their  gates  in  his  primi- 
tive simplicity,  clad  in  his  coarse  Arab  garb,  and 
seated  on  his  camel  with  his  wallets  of  dried  fruits 
and  sodden  corn  ;  his  leathern  bottle  and  his 
wooden  platter. 

Abu  Obeidah  departed  from  Jerusalem  shortly 
after  the  Caliph,  and  marched  with  his  army  to 
the  north,  receiving  in  the  course  of  his  progress 
through  Syria  the  submission  of  the  cities  of 
Kennesrin  and  Alhadir,  the  inhabitants  of  which 
ransomed  themselves  and  their  possessions  for 
five  thousand  ounces  of  gold,  the  like  quantity  of 
silver,  two  thousand  suits  of  silken  raiment,  and 
as  much  figs  and  aloes  as  would  load  five  hundred 
mules  ;  he  then  proceeded  toward  the  city  of 
Aleppo,  which  the  Caliph  had  ordered  him  to  be- 
siege. The  inhabitants  of  this  place  were  much 
given  to  commerce,  and  had  amassed  great 
wealth  ;  they  trembled,  therefore,  at  the  approach 
of  these  plundering  sons  of  the  desert,  who  had 
laid  so  many  cities  under  contribution. 

The  city  of  Aleppo  was  walled  and  fortified  ; 
but  it  depended  chiefly  for  defence  upon  its  cita- 
del, which  stood  without  the  walls  and  apart  from 
the  city,  on  an  artificial  hill  or  mound,  shaped 
like  a  truncated  cone  or  sugar-loaf,  and  faced 
with  stone.  The  citadel  was  of  great  size,  and 
commanded  all  the  adjacent  country  ;  it  was  en- 
compassed by  a  deep  moat,  which  could  be  filled 
from  springs  of  water,  and  was  considered  the 
strongest  castle  in  all  Syria.  The  governor,  who 
had  been  appointed  to  this  place  by  the  emperor 
Heraclius,  and  who  had  held  all  the  territory  be- 
tween Aleppo  and  the  Euphrates,  had  lately- 
died,  leaving  two  sons,  Youkenna  and  Johannas, 
who  resided  in  the  castle  and  succeeded  to  his 


110 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


command.  They  were  completely  opposite  in 
character  and  conduct.  Youkenna,  the  elder  of 
the  two,  was  a  warrior,  and  managed  the  govern- 
ment, while  Johannas  passed  his  life  in  almost 
monkish  retirement,  devoting  himself  to  study,  to 
religious  exercises,  and  to  acts  of  charity.  On 
the  approach  of  the  Moslems  Johannas  sympa- 
thized with  the  fears  of  the  wealthy  merchants, 
and  advised  his  brother  to  compound  peaceably 
with  the  enemy  for  a  ransom  in  money.  "  You 
talk  like  a  monk,"  replied  the  fierce  Youkenna; 
"  you  know  nothing  that  is  due  to  the  honor  of  a 
soldier.  Have  we  not  strong  walls,  a  brave  gar- 
rison, and  ample  wealth  to  sustain  us,  and  shall 
we  meanly  buy  a  peace  without  striking  a  blow  ? 
Shut  yourself  up  with  your  books  and  beads  ; 
study  and  pray,  and  leave  the  defence  of  the  place 
to  me." 

The  next  day  he  summoned  his  troops,  dis- 
tributed money  among  them,  and  having  thus 
roused  their  spirit,  "  The  Arabs,"  said  he,  "  have 
divided  their  forces  ;  some  are  in  Palestine,  some 
have  gone  to  Egypt,  it  can  be  but  a  mere  detach- 
ment that  is  coming  against  us  ;  I  am  for  meeting 
them  on  the  way,  and  giving  them  battle  before 
they  come  near  to  Aleppo."  His  troops  answered 
his  harangue  with  shouts,  so  he  put  himself  at  the 
head  of  twelve  thousand  men,  and  sallied  forth  to 
encounter  the  Moslems  on  their  march. 

Scarcely  had  this  reckless  warrior  departed  with 
his  troops  when  the  timid  and  trading  part  of  the 
community  gathered  together,  and  took  advantage 
of  his  absence  to  send  thirty  of  the  most  impor- 
tant and  opulent  of  the  inhabitants  to  Abu  Obei- 
dah,  with  an  offer  of  a  ransom  for  the  city.  These 
worthies,  when  they  entered  the  Moslem  camp, 
were  astonished  at  the  order  and  tranquillity  that 
reigned  throughout,  under  the  wise  regulations  of 
the  commander-in-chief.  They  were  received  by 
Abu  Obeidah  with  dignified  composure,  and  in- 
formed him  that  they  had  come  without  the 
knowledge  of  Youkenna,  their  warlike  governor, 
who  had  sallied  out  on  a  foray,  and  whose  tyranny 
they  found  insupportable.  After  much  discussion 
Abu  Obeidah  offered  indemnity  to  the  city  of 
Aleppo,  on  condition  that  they  should  pay  a  cer- 
tain sum  of  money,  furnish  provisions  to  his  army, 
make  discovery  of  everything  within  their  knowl- 
edge prejudicial  to  his  interests,  and  prevent 
Youkenna  from  returning  to  the  castle.  They 
agreed  to  all  the  terms  except  that  relating  to  the 
castle,  which  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  exe- 
cute. 

Abu  Obeidah  dispensed  with  that  point,  but  ex- 
acted from  them  all  an  oath  to  fulfil  punctually 
the  other  conditions,  assuring  them  of  his  protec- 
tion and  kindness,  should  they  observe  it  ;  but 
adding  that,  should  they  break  it,  they  need  ex- 
pect no  quarter.  He  then  offered  them  an  escort, 
which  they  declined,  preferring  to  return  quietly 
by  the  way  they  had  come. 

In  the  mean  time  Youkenna,  on  the  day  after 
his  sallying  forth,  fell  in  with  the  advance  guard 
of  the  Moslem  army,  consisting  of  one  thousand 
men  under  Caab  Ibn  Damarrah.  He  came  upon 
them  by  surprise  while  watering  their  horses  and 
resting  themselves  on  the  grass  in  negligent  se- 
curity. A  desperate  fight  was  the  consequence  ; 
the  Moslems  at  first  were  successful,  but  were 
overpowered  by  numbers.  One  hundred  and 
seventy  were  slain,  most  of  the  rest  wounded,  and 
their  frequent  cries  of  "  Ya  Mahommed  !  Ya 
Mahommed  !"  (Oh  Mahomet!  Oh  Mahomet!) 
showed  the  extremity  of  their  despair.  Night 
alone  saved  them  from  total  massacre  ;  but  You- 


kenna resolved  to  pursue  the  work  of  extermina- 
tion with  the  morning  light.  In  the  course  of  the 
night,  however,  one  of  his  scouts  brought  him 
word  of  the  peaceful  negotiation  carried  on  by  the 
citizens  of  Aleppo  during  his  absence.  Boiling 
with  rage,  he  gave  up  all  further  thought  about 
Caab  and  his  men,  and  hastening  back  to  Alep- 
po, drew  up  his  forces,  and  threatened  to  put 
everything  to  fire  and  sword  unless  the  inhabi- 
tants renounced  the  treaty,  joined  him  against  the 
Moslems,  and  gave  up  the  devisers  of  the  late 
traitorous  schemes.  On  their  hesitating  to  ccm- 
ply  with  his  demands,  he  charged  on  them  with 
his  troops,  and  put  three  hundred  to  the  sword. 
The  cries  and  lamentations  of  the  multitude 
reached  the  pious  Johannas  in  his  retirement  in 
the  castle.  He  hastened  to  the  scene  of  carnage, 
and  sought,  by  prayers  and  supplications  and 
pious  remonstrances,  to  stay  the  fury  of  his  broth- 
er. "  What  !"  cried  the  fierce  Youkenna,  "shall 
I  spare  traitors  who  are  leagued  with  the  enemy 
and  selling  us  for  gold  ?" 

"  Alas  !"  replied  Johannas,  "  they  have  only 
sought  their  own  safety  ;  they  are  not  fighting 
men." 

"  Base  wretch  !"  cried  Youkenna  in  a  frenzy, 
"  'tis  thou  hast  been  the  contriver  of  this  infamous 
treason." 

His  naked  sword  was  in  his  hand  ;  his  actions 
were  even  more  frantic  than  his  words,  and  in  an 
instant  the  head  of  his  meek  and  pious  brother 
rolled  on  the  pavement. 

The  people  of  Aleppo  were  in  danger  of  suffer- 
ing more  from  the  madness  of  the  army  than  they 
had  apprehended  from  the  sword  of  the  invader, 
when  a  part  of  the  Moslem  army  appeared  in 
sight,  led  on  by  Khaled.  A  bloody  battle  ensued 
before  the  walls  of  the  town,  three  thousand  of 
Youkenna's  troops  were  slain,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  take  refuge  with  a  considerable  num- 
ber within  the  castle,  where  he  placed  engines  on 
the  walls  and  prepared  to  defend  himself  to  the 
last  extremity. 

A  council  was  held  in  the  Moslem  camp.  Abu 
Obeidah  was  disposed  to  besiege  the  citadel  and 
starve  out  the  garrison,  but  Khaled,  with  his  ac- 
customed promptness,  was  for  instant  assault,  be- 
fore the  emperor  could  send  reinforcements  and 
supplies.  As  usual  his  bold  counsel  prevailed  : 
the  castle  was  stormed,  and  he  headed  the  as- 
sault. The  conflict  was  one  of  the  fiercest  in  the 
wars  of  Syria.  The  besieged  hurled  huge  stones 
from  the  battlements  ;  many  of  the  assailants  were 
slain,  many  maimed,  and  Khaled  was  compelled 
to  desist  from  the  attack. 

In  the  dead  of  that  very  night,  when  the  fires 
of  the  camp  were  extinguished,  and  the  Moslems 
were  sleeping  after  their  hard  -  fought  battle, 
Youkenna  sallied  forth  with  his  troops,  fell  on  the 
enemy  sword  in  hand,  killed  sixty,  and  bore  off 
fifty  prisoners  ;  Khaled,  however,  was  hard  on  his 
traces,  and  killed  above  a  hundred  of  his  men  be- 
fore they  could  shelter  themselves  within  the  cas- 
tle. On  the  next  morning  Youkenna  paraded  his 
fifty  prisoners  on  the  walls  of  the  citadel,  ordered 
them  to  be  beheaded,  and  threw  their  heads 
among  the  besiegers. 

Learning  from  his  spies  that  a  detachment  of 
Moslems  were  foraging  the  country,  Youkenna 
sent  out,  secretly,  a  troop  of  horse  in  the  night, 
who  fell  upon  the  foragers,  killed  nearly  seven 
score  of  them,  slew  or  hamstrung  their  camels, 
mules,  and  horses,  and  then  hid  themselves  ia 
the  recesses  of  the  mountains,  awaiting  the  night 
to  get  back  to  the  castle. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Ill 


Some  fugitives  carried  tidings  of  this  skirmish 
to  the  camp,  and  Khaled  and  Derar,  with  a  troop 
of  horse,  were  soon  at  the  scene  of  combat.  They 
found  the  ground  strewed  with  the  dead  bodies 
of  men  and  animals,  learned  from  some  peasants 
whither  the  enemy  had  retreated,  and  were  in- 
formed of  a  narrow  defile  by  which  they  must  re- 
turn to  the  castle.  Khaled  and  Derar  stationed 
their  troops  in  ambush  in  this  defile.  Late  in  the 
night  they  perceived  the  enemy  advancing.  They 
suffered  them  to  get  completely  entangled  in  the 
defile,  when,  closing  suddenly  upon  them  on 
every  side,  they  slew  a  number  on  the  spot,  and 
took  three  hundred  prisoners.  These  were 
brought  in  triumph  to  the  Moslem  camp,  where 
they  would  have  redeemed  themselves  with  ample 
ransom,  but  their  heads  were  all  stricken  off  in 
front  of  the  castle,  by  way  of  retaliation. 

For  five  months  did  the  siege  of  this  fortress 
continue  ;  all  the  attacks  of  the  Moslems  were  re- 
pulsed, all  their  stratagems  discovered  and  cir- 
cumvented, for  Youkenna  had  spies  in  the  very 
camp  of  the  enemy,  who  gave  him  intelligence  by 
word,  or  signal,  of  every  plan  and  movement. 
Abu  Obeidah  despaired  of  reducing  this  impreg- 
nable castle,  which  impeded  him  in  his  career  of 
conquest,  and  wrote  to  the  Caliph,  proposing  to 
abandon  the  siege  and  proceed  against  Antioch. 
The  Caliph,  in  reply,  ordered  him  by  no  means  to 
desist,  as  that  would  give  courage  to  the  enemy, 
but  to  press  the  siege  hard,  and  trust  the  event  to 
God.  As  an  additional  reliance,  he  sent  him  a 
reinforcement  of  horse  and  foot,  with  twenty 
camels  to  facilitate  the  march  of  the  infantry. 
Notwithstanding  all  this  aid,  the  siege  was  con- 
tinued for  seven -and-forty  days,  with  no  greater 
prospect  of  success. 

While  in  this  state  of  vexatious  impediment  and 
delay,  Abu  Obeidah  was  one  day  accosted  by  one 
of  the  newly  arrived  soldiers,  who  told  him  that, 
if  he  would  give  him  thirty  men,  all  strong  and 
valiant,  he  would  pledge  his  head  to  put  him  in 
possession  of  the  castle.  The  man  who  made 
this  singular  application  was  named  Damas  ;  he 
was  of  herculean  strength  and  gigantic  size,  a 
brave  soldier,  and  of  great  natural  sagacity,  al- 
though unimproved  by  education,  as  he  was  born 
a  slave.  Khaled  backed  his  application,  having 
heard  of  great  exploits  performed  by  him  in 
Arabia.  Abu  Obeidah,  in  his  perplexities,  was 
willing  to  adopt  any  expedient  to  get  possession 
of  this  obstinate  castle,  and  the  Arabs  were  always 
prone  to  strange  and  extravagant  stratagems  in 
their  warfare.  He  accordingly  placed  thirty  of 
his  bravest  men  under  command  of  Damas, 
charging  them  to  obey  him  implicitly,  notwith- 
standing his  base  condition  ;  at  the  same  time,  in 
compliance  with  his  request,  he  removed  with  his 
army  to  the  distance  of  a  league,  as  though  about 
to  abandon  the  siege. 

It  was  now  night,  and  Damas  concealed  his 
thirty  men  near  to  the  castle,  charging  them  not 
to  stir,  nor  utter  a  sound.  He  then  went  out 
alone  and  brought  in  six  Christian  prisoners,  one 
after  another.  He  questioned  them  in  Arabic, 
but  they  were  ignorant  of  the  language,  and  re- 
plied in  their  own  tongue.  "  The  curse  of  Allah 
on  these  Christian  dogs  and  their  barbarous  jar- 
gon, which  no  man  can  understand,"  cried  the 
rude  Arab,  and  in  his  rage  he  smote  off  their 
heads. 

He  went  forth  again,  and  saw  a  man  sliding 
down  the  wall,  whom  he  seized  the  moment  he 


touched  the  ground.  He  was  a  Christian  Arab, 
and  was  endeavoring  to  escape  Irom  the  tyranny 
of  Youkenna,  and  from  him  Damas  obtained  the 
information  he  desired.  He  instantly  dispatched 
two  men  to  Abu  Obeidah,  requesting  him  to  send 
him  some  horse  about  sunrise.  He  then  took  a 
goat-skin  from  his  wallet,  with  which  he  covered 
his  back  and  shoulders,  and  a  dry  crust  of  bread  in 
his  hand,  and  crept  on  all-fours  close  to  the  wall 
of  the  castle.  His  men  crept  silently  after  him. 
When  he  heard  a  noise  he  gnawed  his  crust  with 
a  sound  like  that  of  a  dog  gnawing  a  bone,  and 
his  followers  remained  motionless.  In  this  way 
he  reached  a  part  of  the  castle  wall  which  was 
easiest  of  access.  Then  seating  himself  on  the 
ground,  he  made  one  of  his  men  seat  himself  on 
his  shoulders,  and  so  on  until  seven  were  thus 
mounted  on  each  other.  Then  he  who  was  up- 
permost stood  upright,  and  so  did  the  others  in 
succession,  until  Damas  rose  from  the  ground 
upon  his  feet,  and  sustained  the  whole  by  his 
wondrous  strength,  each  rendering  such  aid  as  he 
could  by  bearing  against  the  wall.  The  upper- 
most man  was  now  enabled  to  scramble  upon  the 
battlement,  where  he  found  a  Christian  sentinel 
drunk  and  asleep.  He  seized  and  threw  him 
down  to  the  Moslems  below  the  wall,  who  in- 
stantly dispatched  him.  He  then  unfolded  his 
turban  and  drew  up  the  man  below  him,  and  they 
two  the  next,  and  so  on  until  Damas  was  also  on 
the  wall. 

Damas  now  enjoined  silence  on  them  all,  and  left 
'them.  He  found  two  other  sentinels  sleeping, 
whom  he  dispatched  with  his  dagger,  and  then 
made  his  way  to  an  aperture  for  the  discharge  of 
arrows,  looking  through  which  he  beheld  You- 
kenna in  a  spacious  chamber,  richly  clad,  seated 
on  tapestry  of  scarlet  silk,  flowered  with  gold, 
drinking  and  making  merry  with  a  large  com- 
pany ;  for  it  would  seem  as  if,  on  the  apparent 
departure  of  the  besieging  army,  the  whole  castle 
had  been  given  up  to  feasting  and  carousing. 

Damas  considered  the  company  too  numerous 
to  be  attacked  ;  returning  to  his  men,  therefore, 
he  explored  cautiously  with  them  the  interior  of 
the  castle.  Coming  suddenly  upon  the  guards  at 
the  main  entrance,  who  had  no  apprehension  of 
danger  from  within,  they  killed  them,  threw  open 
the  gate,  let  down  the  drawbridge,  and  were 
joined  by  the  residue  of  their  party.  The  castle 
was  by  this  time  alarmed  ;  the  garrison,  half 
drunk  and  half  asleep,  came  rushing  from  all 
quarters  in  wild  confusion.  The  Moslems  defend- 
ed themselves  stoutly  on  the  drawbridge  and  in 
the  narrow  pass  of  the  barbican  until  the  dawn 
of  day,  when  a  shout  of  Allah  Achbar  was  heard, 
and  Khaled,  with  a  troop  of  horse,  came  thun- 
dering through  the  gate. 

The  Christians  threw  down  their  arms  and  cried 
for  mercy.  Khaled  offered  them  their  choice, 
death  or  the  faith  of  Islam.  Youkenna  was  the 
first  to  raise  his  finger  and  pronounce  the  for- 
mula ;  his  example  was  followed  by  several  of  his 
leading  men,  whereupon  their  wives  and  children 
and  property  were  secured  to  them.  The  castle, 
having  been  taken  by  storm,  was  completely 
plundered,  and  the  spoils  were  divided  among  the 
army,  excepting  the  usual  fifth  part  reserved  for 
the  Caliph.  Damas  and  his  brave  companions; 
who  had  been  almost  cut  to  pieces  in  the  fight, 
were  praised  to  the  skies,  nor  would  Abu  Obeidah 
stir  with  his  host  until  those  of  them  who  survived 
were  out  of  danger  from  their  wounds. 


112 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PERFIDY  OF  YOUKENNA  TO  HIS  FORMER  FRIENDS 
— ATTEMPTS  THE  CASTLE  OF  AAZAZ  BY  TREACH- 
ERY— CAPTURE  OF  THE  CASTLE. 

IT  is  a  circumstance  worthy  of  remark  in  the 
history  both  of  Mahomet  and  his  successors,  that 
the  most  inveterate  enemies  of  the  Islam  faith, 
when  once  converted  to  it,  even  though  their  con- 
version were  by  the  edge  of  the  sword,  that  great 
Moslem  instrument  of  persuasion,  became  its 
faithful  defenders.  Such  was  the  case  with 
Youkenna,  who,  from  the  time  he  embraced  Is- 
lam with  the  Arab  scimetar  at  his  throat,  became 
as  determined  a  champion  of  its  doctrines  as  he 
had  before  been  an  opponent.  Like  all  new  con- 
verts, he  was  anxious  to  give  striking  proofs  of 
his  zeal  ;  he  had  slain  a  brother  in  supporting  his 
old  faith,  he  now  proposed  to  betray  a  cousin  in 
promoting  the  interests  of  the  new.  This  cousin, 
whose  name  was  Theodoras,  was  governor  of  an 
important  town  and  fortress,  named  Aazaz,  situ- 
ated at  no  great  distance  from  Aleppo,  and  which 
it  was  necessary  for  the  Moslems  to  secure  be- 
fore they  left  that  neighborhood.  The  castle  was 
of  great  strength,  and  had  a  numerous  garrison, 
but  Youkenna  offered  to  put  it  into  the  hands  of 
Abu  Obeidah  by  stratagem.  His  plan  was,  to 
have  one  hundred  Moslems  disguised  as  Christian 
soldiers  ;  with  these  he  would  pretend  to  fly  to 
the  fortress  of  Aazaz  for  refuge  ;  being  pursued 
at  a  distance  by  a  large  body  of  Arabs,  who,  after 
coming  in  sight  of  the  place,  would  appear  to  re- 
tire in  despair,  but  would  conceal  themselves  in 
the  neighborhood.  His  cousin  Theodorus,  who 
knew  nothing  of  his  conversion,  would  receive 
him  with  perfect  confidence  ;  at  a  concerted  hour 
of  the  night  he  and  his  men  would  fall  suddenly 
upon  the  garrison,  and  at  the  same  time  throw 
open  the  gates  to  the  party  without  the  walls,  and 
between  them  both  he  had  no  doubt  of  carrying 
the  place  without  difficulty. 

Abu  Obeidah  held  counsel  with  Khaled,  who 
pronounced  the  stratagem  apt  and  feasible,  pro- 
vided the  sincerity  of  Youkenna's  conversion 
might  be  depended  upon.  The  new  proselyte 
managed  to  obtain  their  confidence,  and  was  dis- 
patched on  his  enterprise  with  one  hundred  cho- 
sen men,  selected  by  tens  from  ten  tribes  of  Arabs. 
After  they  had  departed  a'sufficient  time,  one 
thousand  men  were  sent  in  pretended  pursuit, 
headed  by  Malec  Alashtar,  who  was  instructed  in 
the  whole  stratagem. 

These  Moslem  wars  were  always  a  tissue  of  plot 
and  counterplot,  of  which  this  whole  story  of 
Youkenna  is  a  striking  example.  Scarce  had  this 
scheme  of  treachery  been  devised  in  the  Moslem 
camp,  when  the  distant  governor  of  Aazaz  was 
apprised  of  it,  with  a  success  and  celerity  that  al- 
most seemed  like  magic.  He  had  at  that  time  a 
spy  in  the  Moslem  camp,  an  Arab  of  the  tribe  of 
Gassan,  who  sent  him  a  letter  tied  under  the 
wing  of  a  carrier-pigeon,  informing  him  of  the 
apostasy  of  Youkenna,  and  of  his  intended  treach- 
ery ;  though  the  spy  was  ignorant  of  that  part  of 
the  plan  relating  to  the  thousand  men  under  Ma- 
lec Alashtar.  On  receiving  this  letter,  Theodorus 
put  his  town  and  castle  in  a  posture  of  defence, 
called  in  the  Christian  Arabs  of  the  neighboring 
villages  capable  of  bearing  arms,  and  dispatched 
a  messenger  named  Tarik  al  Gassani  to  Lucas 
the  prefect  of  Arrawendan,  urging  him  to  repair 
with  troops  to  his  assistance. 


Before  the  arrival  of  the  latter,  Youkenna  ap- 
peared with  his  pretended  fugitives  before  the 
gates  of  Aazaz,  announcing  that  his  castle  was 
taken,  and  that  he  and  his  band  were  flying  be- 
fore pursuers.  Theodorus  sallied  forth  on  horse- 
back, at  the  head  of  many  of  his  troops,  as  if  to 
receive  his  cousin  with  all  due  honors.  He  even 
alighted  from  his  steed,  and,  approaching  You-  • 
kenna  in  a  reverential  manner,  stooped  as  if  to 
kiss  his  stirrup  ;  but  suddenly  cutting  the  saddle 
girth,  he  pulled  him  with  his  face  on  the  ground, 
and  in  an  instant  his  hundred  followers  were  like- 
wise unhorsed  and  made  prisoners.  Theodorus 
then  spat  in  the  face  of  the  prostrate  Youkenna 
and  reproached  him  with  his  apostasy  and  treach- 
ery ;  threatening  to  send  him  to  answer  tor  his 
crimes  before  the  emperor  Heraclius,  and  to  put 
all  his  followers  to  the  sword. 

In  the  mean  time  Tarik  al  Gassani,  the  Chris- 
tian Arab,  who  had  been  sent  by  Theodorus  to 
summon  the  prefect  of  Arrawendan  to  his  aid,  had 
executed  his  errand,  but  on  the  way  back  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Malec,  who  was  lying  in  ambuscade 
with  his  thousand  men.  The  sight  of  a  naked 
scimetar  drew  from  Tarik  information  that  the 
plot  of  Youkenna  had  been  discovered  ;  that  he 
had  been  sent  after  aid,  and  that  Lucas,  the  pre- 
fect of  Arrawendan,  must  be  actually  on  his  way 
with  five  hundred  cavalry. 

Profiting  by  this  information,  Malec  placed  his 
thousand  men  so  advantageously  as  completely 
to  surprise  and  capture  Lucas  and  his  reinforce- 
ment, as  they  were  marching  in  the  night.  He 
then  devised  a  stratagem  still  to  outwit  the  gov- 
ernor of  Aazaz.  First  he  disguised  his  five  hun- 
dred men  in  dresses  taken  from  their  Christian 
prisoners,  and  gave  them  the  Christian  standard 
of  the  prefect  of  Arrawendan.  Then  summoning 
Tarik  the  messenger  before  him,  and  again  dis- 
playing the  scimetar,  he  exhorted  him  most  ear- 
nestly to  turn  Mahometan.  There  was  no  resist- 
ing his  arguments,  and  Tarik  made  a  full  and 
hearty  profession  of  the  faith.  Malec  then  ordered 
him  to  prove  his  zeal  for  the  good  cause  by  pro- 
ceeding to  Aazaz  and  informing  Theodorus  that 
the  prefect  of  Arrawendan  was  at  hand  with  a 
reinforcement  of  five  hundred  men.  The  double- 
faced  courier  departed  on  his  errand,  accom- 
panied by  a  trusty  Moslem,  who  had  secret  or- 
ders to  smite  off  his  head  if  he  should  be  found 
to  waver  ;  but  there  were  still  other  plots  at  work 
in  this  tissue  of  stratagems. 

As  Tarik  and  his  companion  approached  Aazaz, 
they  heard  great  shouting  and  the  sound  of  trum- 
pets, and  this  was  the  cause  of  the  change.  Ihe- 
odorus,  the  governor,  had  committed  Youkenna 
and  his  men  into  the  custody  of  his  son  Leon. 
Now  it  so  happened  that  the  youth  having  fre- 
quently visited  his  father's  kinsmen  at  the  castle 
of  Aleppo,  had  become  violently  enamored  of  the 
daughter  of  Youkenna,  but  had  met  strong  oppo- 
sition to  his  love.  The  present  breach  between 
his  father  and  Youkenna  threatened  to  place  an 
inseparable  barrier  between  him  and  the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  passion.  Maddened  by  his  desires, 
the  youth  now  offered  to  Youkenna,  if  he  would 
give  him  his  daughter  to  wife,  to  embrace  Ma- 
hometanism,  and  to  set  him  and  his  companions 
at  liberty.  The  offer  was  accepted.  At  the  dead 
of  the  night,  when  the  prisoners  were  armed  and 
liberated,  they  fell  upon  the  sleeping  garrison  ;  a 
tumultuous  fight  ensued,  in  the  course  of  which 
Theodorus  was  slain,  by  the  hand,  it  is  said,  of  his 
unnatural  son. 

It  was  in  the  height  of  this  conflict  that  Tarik 


• 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


113 


and  his  companion  arrived  at  the  place,  and, 
learning  the  situation  of  affairs,  hastened  back  to 
Malec  Alashtar  with  the  news.  The  latter  hur- 
ried on  with  his  troops  and  came  in  time  to  com- 
plete the  capture  of  the  place.  He  bestowed 
great  praises  on  Youkenna,  but  the  latter,  taking 
him  by  the  hand,  exclaimed,  "  Thank  Allah  and 
this  youth."  He  then  related  the  whole  story. 
The  pious  Malec  lifted  up  his  eyes  and  hands  in 
wonder.  "  When  Allah  wills  a  thing,"  exclaim- 
ed he,  "  he  prepares  the  means." 

Leaving  Seid  Ibn  Amir  in  command  of  the 
place,  with  Youkenna's  band  of  a  hundred  men  as 
a  garrison,  Malec  Alashtar  returned  to  the  main 
army  with  great  booty  and  many  prisoners. 
Youkenna,  however,  refused  to  accompany  him. 
He  was  mortified  at  the  questionable  result  of  his 
undertaking  against  Aazaz,  the  place  having  been 
taken  by  other  means  than  his  own,  and  vowed 
not  to  show  himself  in  the  Moslem  camp  until  he 
had  retrieved  his  credit  by  some  signal  blow. 
Just  at  this  time  there  arrived  at  Aazaz  a  forag- 
ing party  of  a  thousand  Moslems,  that  had  been 
ravaging  the  neighboring  country  ;  among  them 
were  two  hundred  renegades,  who  had  apostatized 
with  Youkenna,  and  whose  families  and  effects 
were  in  the  castle  of  Aleppo.  They  were  the  very 
men  for  his  purpose,  and  with  these  he  marched 
off  to  execute  one  of  his  characteristic  stratagems 
at  Antioch. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

INTRIGUES  OF  YOUKENNA  AT  ANTIOCH— SIEGE 
OF  THAT  CITY  BY  THE  MOSLEMS — FLIGHT  OF 
THE  EMPEROR  TO  CONSTANTINOPLE— SURREN- 
DER OF  ANTIOCH. 

THE  city  of  Antioch  was  at  that  time  the  capi- 
tal of  Syria,  and  the  seat  of  the  Roman  govern- 
ment in  the  East.  It  was  of  great  extent,  sur- 
rounded by  stone  walls  and  numerous  towers, 
and  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  fertile  country,  water- 
ed by  wells  and  fountains  and  abundant  streams. 
Here  Heraclius  held  his  court,  and  here  the 
Greeks,  sunk  in  luxury  and  effeminacy,  had  lost 
all  the  military  discipline  and  heroism  that  had 
made  them  conquerors  in  Asia. 

Toward  this  capital  Youkenna  proceeded  with 
his  band  of  two  hundred  men  ;    but  in  the  second 
watch  of  the  night  he  left  them,  after  giving  them 
•rders  to  keep  on  in  the  highway  of  the  caravans, 
ind  on  arriving  at  Antioch,  to  give  themselves 
out  as  fugitives  from  Aleppo.     In  the  mean  time 
with  two  of  his   relatives,  struck  into   a  by- 
road, and   soon  fell   into  the  hands  of  one  of  the 
emperor's    outposts.        On    announcing    himself 
Youkenna,  late  governor  of  Aleppo,  he  was  sent 
under  a  guard  of  horse  to  Antioch. 

The  emperor  Heraclius,  broken  in  spirit  by  his 
late  reverses  and  his  continual  apprehensions, 
wept  at  the  sight  of  Youkenna,  and  meekly  up- 
braided him  with  his  apostasy  and  treason,  but 
the  latter  with  perfect  self-possession  and  effront- 
ery, declared  that  whatever  he  had  done  was  for 
the  purpose  of  preserving  his  life  for  the  emper- 
or's service  ;  and  cited  the  obstinate  defence  he 
had  made  at  Aleppo  and  his  present  voluntary  ar- 
rival at  Antioch  as  proofs  of  his  fidelity.  The 
emperor  was  easily  deceived  by  a  man  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  regard  as  one  of  his  bravest 
and  most  devoted  officers  ;  and  indeed  the  subtle 


apostate  had  the  address  to  incline  most  of  the 
courtiers  in  his  favor.  To  console  him  for  what 
was  considered  his  recent  misfortunes,  he  was 
put  in  command  of  the  two  hundred  pretended 
fugitives  of  his  former  garrison,  as  soon  as  they 
arrived  at  Antioch  ;  he  had  thus  a  band  of  kin- 
dred icnegades,  ready  to  aid  him  in  any  desperate 
treachery.  Furthermore,  to  show  his  entire  confi- 
dence in  him,  the  emperor  sent  him  with  upward 
of  two  thousand  men,  to  escort  his  youngest 
daughter  from  a  neighboring  place  to  the  court 
at  Antioch.  He  performed  his  mission  with  cor- 
rectness ;  as  he  and  his  troop  were  escorting  the 
princess  about  midnight,  the  neighing  of  their 
horses  put  them  on  the  alert,  and  sending  out 
scouts  they  received  intelligence  of  a  party  of 
Moslems  asleep,  with  their  horses  grazing  near 
them.  They  proved  to  be  a  body  of  a  thousand 
Christian  Arabs,  under  Haim,  son  of  the  apostate 
Jabalah  Ibn  al  Ayam,  who  had  made  captives  of 
Derar  Ibn  al  Azwar  and  a  foraging  party  of  two 
hundred  Moslems.  They  all  proceeded  together 
to  Antioch,  where  the  emperor  received  his 
daughter  with  great  joy,  and  made  Youkenna  one 
of  his  chief  counsellors. 

Derar  and  his  men  were  brought  into  the  pres- 
ence of  the  emperor,  and  commanded  to  prostrate 
themselves  before  him,  but  they  held  themselves 
erect  and  took  no  heed  of  the  command.  It  was 
repeated  more  peremptorily.  "  We  bow  to  no 
created  being,"  replied  Derar  ;  "  the  prophet  bids 
us  to  yield  adoration  to  God  alone." 

The  emperor,  struck  with  this  reply,  propound- 
ed several  questions  touching  Mahomet  and  his 
doctrines,  but  Derar,  whose  province  did  not  lie 
in  words,  beckoned  to  Kais  Ibn  Amir,  an  old 
gray-headed  Moslem,  to  answer  them.  A  long 
and  edifying  conference  ensued,  in  which,  in  re- 
ply to  the  searching  questions  of  the  emperor,  the 
venerable  Kais  went  into  a  history  of  the  prophet, 
and  of  the  various  modes  in  which  inspiration 
came  upon  him.  Sometimes  like  the  sound  of  a 
bell  ;  sometimes  in  the  likeness  of  an  angel  in 
human  shape  ;  sometimes  in  a  dream  ;  some- 
times like  the  brightness  of  the  dawning  day  ; 
and  that  when  it  was  upon  him  great  drops  of 
sweat  rolled  from  his  forehead,  and  a  tremor 
seized  upon  his  limbs.  He  furthermore  descanted 
with  eloquence  upon  the  miracles  of  Mahomet,  of 
his  nocturnal  journey  to  heaven,  and  his  conver- 
sation with  the  Most  High.  The  emperor  listened 
with  seeming  respect  to  all  these  matters,  but 
they  roused  the  indignation  of  a  bishop  who  was 
present,  and  who  pronounced  Mahomet  an  im- 
postor. Derar  took  fire  in  an  instant  ;  if  he  could 
not  argue,  he  could  make  use  of  a  soldier's  vocabu- 
lary, and  he  roundly  gave  the  bishop  the  lie,  and 
assailed  him  with  all  kinds  of  epithets.  Instantly 
a  number  of  Christian  swords  flashed  from  their 
scabbards,  blows  were  aimed  at  him  from  every 
side  ;  and  according  to  Moslem  accounts  he  es- 
caped death  only  by  miracle  ;  though  others  at- 
tribute it  to  the  hurry  and  conlusion  of  his  assail- 
ants, and  to  the  interference  of  Youkenna.  The 
emperor  was  now  for  having  him  executed  on  the 
spot ;  but  here  the  good  offices  of  Youkenna 
again  saved  him,  and  his  execution  was  deferred. 

In  the  mean  time  Abu  Obeidah,  with  his  main 
army,  was  making  his  victorious  approaches,  and 
subjecting  all  Syria  to  his  arms.  The  emperor, 
in  his  miserable  imbecility  and  blind  infatuation, 
put  the  treacherous  Youkenna  in  full  command  of 
the  city  and  army.  He  would  again  have  exe- 
cuted Derar  and  his  fellow-prisoners,  but  You- 
kenna suggested  that  they  had  better  be  spared  to 


114 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


be  exchanged  for  any  Christians  that  might  be 
taken  by  the  enemy.  They  were  then,  by  advice 
of  the  bishops,  taken  to  one  of  the  churches,  and 
exhorted  to  embrace  the  Christian  faith,  but  they 
obstinately  refused.  The  Arabian  writers,  as 
usual,  give  them  sententious  replies  to  the  ques- 
tions put  to  them.  "  What  hinders  ye,"  de- 
manded the  patriarch,"  from  turning  Christians  ?" 
"  The  truth  of  our  religion,"  replied  they.  Her- 
aclius  had  heard  of  the  mean  attire  of  the  Caliph 
Omar,  and  asked  them  why,  having  gained  so 
much  wealth  by  his  conquests,  he  did  not  go 
richly  clad  like  other  princes  ?  They  replied  that 
he  cared  not  for  this  world,  but  for  the  world  to 
come,  and  sought  favor  in  the  eyes  of  God  alone. 
"  In  what  kind  of  a  palace  does  he  reside  ?"  ask- 
ed the  emperor.  "In  a  house  built  of  mud." 
"  Who  are  his  attendants  ?"  "  Beggars  and  the 
poor."  "What  tapestry  does  he  sit  upon?" 
"Justice  and  equity."  "What  is  his  throne  ?" 
"  Abstinence  and  true  knowledge."  "  What  is 
his  treasure  ?"  "  Trust  in  God."  "  And  who 
are  his  guard  ?"  "  The  bravest  of  the  Uni- 
tarians." 

Of  all  the  prisoners  one  only  could  be  induced 
to  swerve  from  his  faith  ;  and  he  was  a  youth 
fascinated  by  the  beauty  and  the  unveiled  charms 
of  the  Greek  women.  He  was  baptized  with  tri- 
umph ;  the  bishops  strove  who  most  should  honor 
him,  and  the  emperor  gave  him  a  horse,  a  beau- 
tiful damsel  to  wife,  and  enrolled  him  in  the  army 
of  Christian  Arabs,  commanded  by  the  renegade 
Jabalah  ;  but  he  was  upbraided  in  bitter  terms  by 
his  father,  who  was  one  of  the  prisoners,  and 
ready  to  die  in  the  faith  of  Islam. 

The  emperor  now  reviewed  his  army,  which 
was  drawn  up  outside  of  the  walls,  and  at  the 
head  of  every  battalion  was  a  wooden  oratory 
with  a  crucifix  ;  while  a  precious  crucifix  out  ot 
the  main  church,  exhibited  only  on  extraordinary 
occasions,  was  borne  as  a  sacred  standard  before 
the  treacherous  Youkenna.  One  ot  the  main  de- 
pendences of  Heraclius  for  the  safety  of  Antioeh 
was  in  the  Iron  Bridge,  so  called  from  its  great 
strength.  It  was  a  bridge  of  stone  across  the 
river  Orontes,  guarded  by  two  towers  and  garri- 
soned by  a  great  force,  having  not  less  than  three 
hundred  officers.  The  fate  of  this  most  important 
pass  shows  the  degeneracy  of  Greek  discipline 
and  the  licentiousness  of  the  soldiery,  to  which  in 
a  great  measure  has  been  attributed  the  rapid  suc- 
cesses ot  the  Moslems.  An  officer  of  the  court 
was  charged  to  visit  this  fortress  each  day,  and 
see  that  everything  was  in  order.  On  one  of  his 
visits  he  found  those  who  had  charge  of  the  towers 
drinking  and  revelling,  whereupon  he  ordered 
them  to  be  punished  with  fifty  stripes  each.  They 
treasured  the  disgrace  in  their  hearts  ;  the  Mos- 
lem army  approached  to  lay  siege  to  that  formid- 
able fortress,  and  when  the  emperor  expected  to 
hear  of  a  long  and  valiant  resistance,  he  was  as- 
tonished by  the  tidings  that  the  Iron  Bridge  had 
been  surrendered  without  a  blow. 

Heraclius  now  lost  heart  altogether.  Instead 
of  calling  a  council  of  his  generals,  he  assembled 
the  bishops  and  wealthiest  citizens  in  the  cathe- 
dral, and  wept  over  the  affairs  of  Syria.  It  was 
a  time  for  dastard  counsel  ;  the  apostate  Jabalah 
proposed  the  assassination  of  the  Caliph  Omar  as 
a  means  of  throwing  the  affairs  of  the  Saracens 
into  confusion.  The  emperor  was  weak  enough  to 
consent,  and  Vathek  Ibn  Mosapher,  a  bold  young 
Arab  of  the  tribe  of  Jabalah,  was  dispatched  to 
Medina  to  effect  the  treacherous  deed.  The  Ara- 
bian historians  give  a  miraculous  close  to  this  un- 


dertaking. Arriving  at  Medina,  Vathek  concealed 
himself  in  a  tree,  without  the  walls,  at  a  place 
where  the  Caliph  was  accustomed  to  walk  after 
the  hour  of  prayers.  After  a  time  Omar  ap- 
proached the  place,  and  lay  down  to  sleep  near 
the  foot  of  the  tree.  The  assassin  drew  his  dag- 
ger, and  was  descending,  when  he  beheld  a  lion 
walking  round  the  Caliph,  licking  his  feet  and 
guarding  him  as  he  slept.  When  he  woke  the 
lion  went  away,  upon  which  Vathek,  convinced 
that  Omar  was  under  the  protection  of  Heaven, 
hastened  down  from  the  tree,  kissed  his  hand 
in  token  of  allegiance,  revealed  his  treacherous 
errand,  and  avowed  his  conversion  to  the  Islam 
faith. 

The  surrender  of  the  Iron  Bridge  had  laid  open 
Antioeh  to  the  approach  of  Abu  Obeidah,  and 
he  advanced  in  battle  array  to  where  the  Chris- 
tian army  was  drawn  up  beneath  its  walls.  Nes- 
torius,  one  of  the  Christian  commanders,  sallied 
forth  from  among  the  troops  and  defied  the  Mos- 
lems to  single  combat.  Damas,  the  herculean 
warrior,  who  had  taken  the  castle  of  Aleppo, 
spurred  forward  to  meet  him,  but  his  horse  stum- 
bled and  fell  with  him,  and  he  was  seized  as  the 
prisoner  of  Nestorius,  and  conveyed  to  his  tent, 
where  he  was  bound  hand  and  foot.  Dehac, 
another  Moslem,  took  his  place,  and  a  brave  fight 
ensued  between  him  and  Nestorius.  The  parties, 
however,  were  so  well  matched  that,  after  fight- 
ing for  a  long  time  until  both  were  exhausted, 
they  parted  by  mutual  consent.  While  this  fight 
was  going  on,  the  soldiers,  horse  and  foot,  of 
either  army,  thronged  to  see  it,  and  in  the  tumult 
the  tent  of  Nestorius  was  thrown  clown.  There 
were  but  three  servants  left  in  charge  of  it.  Fear- 
ful of  the  anger  of  their  master,  they  hastened 
to  set  it  up  again,  and  loosened  the  bands  of 
Damas  that  he  might  assist  them  ;  but  the  mo- 
ment he  was  free  he  arose  in  his  giant  strength, 
seized  two  ot  the  attendants,  one  in  each  hand, 
dashed  their  heads  against  the  head  of  the 
third,  and  soon  laid  them  all  lifeless  on  the 
ground.  Then  opening  a  chest,  he  arrayed 
himself  in  a  dress  belonging  to  Nestorius,  armed 
himself  with  a  sabre,  sprang  on  a  horse  that 
stood  ready  saddled,  and  cut  his  way  through 
the  Christian  Arabs  of  Jabalah  to  the  Moslem 
host. 

While  these  things  were  happening  without  the 
walls,  treason  was  at  work  in  the  city.  Youkenna, 
who  commanded  there,  set  free  Derar  and  his  fel- 
low-prisoners, furnished  them  with  weapons,  and 
joined  to  them  his  own  band  of  renegadoes.  The 
tidings  of  this  treachery  and  the  apprehension  ot 
revolt  among  his  own  troops  struck  despair  to  the 
heart  of  Heraclius.  He  had  been  terrified  by  a 
dream  in  which  he  had  found  himself  thrust  from 
his  throne,  and  his  crown  falling  from  his  head  ; 
the  fulfilment  appeared  to  be  at  hand.  Without 
waiting  to  withstand  the  evil,  he  assembled  a  few 
domestics,  made  a  secret  retreat  to  the  sea-shore, 
and  set  sail  for  Constantinople. 

The  generals  of  Heraclius,  more  brave  than 
their  emperor,  fought  a  pitched  battle  beneath  the 
walls  ;  but  the  treachery  of  Youkenna  and  the 
valor  of  Derar  and  his  men,  who  fell  on  them 
unawares,  rendered  their  gallant  struggle  un- 
availing ;  the  people  of  Antioeh  seeing  the  bat- 
tle lost  capitulated  for  the  safety  of  their  city  at 
the  cost  of  three  hundred  thousand  golden 
ducats,  and  Abu  Obeidah  entered  the  ancient 
capital  of  Syria  in  triumph.  This  event  took 
place  on  the  2ist  of  August,  in  the  year  of  re- 
demption 638. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


115 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

EXPEDITION   INTO    THE    MOUNTAINS   OF  SYRIA — 
STORY   OF  A   MIRACULOUS   CAP. 

THE  discreet  Abu  Obeiclah  feared  to  expose  his 
troops  to  the  enervating  delights  of  Antioch,  and 
to  the  allurements  of  the  Greek  women,  and, 
after  three  clays  of  repose  and  refreshment,  march- 
ed forth  from  that  luxurious  city.  He  wrote  a 
letter  to  the  Caliph,  relating  his  important  con- 
quest, and  the  flight  of  the  emperor  Heraclius  ; 
and  added  that  he  discovered  a  grievous  propen- 
sity among  his  troops  to  intermarry  with  the 
beautiful  Grecian  females,  which  he  had  forbid- 
den them  to  do,  as  contrary  to  the  injunctions  of 
the  Koran. 

The  epistle  was  delivered  to  Omar  just  as  he 
was  departing  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  accom- 
panied by  the  widows  of  the  prophet.  When  he 
had  read  the  letter  he  offered  prayers  and  thanks- 
giving to  Allah,  but  wept  over  Abu  Obeidah's 
rigor  to  his  soldiers.  Seating  himself  upon  the 
ground,  he  immediately  wrote  a  reply  to  his  gen- 
eral, expressing  his  satisfaction  at  his  success, 
but  exhorting  him  to  more  indulgence  to  his  sol- 
diers. Those  who  had  fought  the  good  fight 
ought  to  be  permitted  to  rest  themselves,  and  to 
enjoy  the  good  things  they  had  gained.  Such  as 
had  no  wives  at  home,  might  marry  in  Syria,  and 
those  who  had  a  desire  for  female  slaves  might 
purchase  as  many  as  they  chose. 

While  the  main  army  reposed  after  the  taking 
ot  Antioch,  the  indefatigable  Khaled,  at  the  head 
of  a  detachment,  scoured  the  country  as  far  as  to 
the  Euphrates  ;  took  Membege,  the  ancient  Hier- 
apolis,  by  force,  and  Berah  and  Bales,  and  other 
places,  by  capitulation,  receiving  a  hundred  thou- 
sand pieces  of  gold  by  way  of  ransom,  besides 
laying  the  inhabitants  under  annual  tribute. 

Abu  Obeidah,  in  an  assemblage  of  his  officers, 
now  proposed  an  expedition  to  subdue  the  moun- 
tains of  Syria  ;  but  no  one  stepped  forward  to 
volunteer.  The  mountains  were  rugged  and 
sterile,  and  covered  with  ice  and  snow  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  year,  and  the  troops  already 
began  to  feel  the  effects  of  the  softening  climate 
and  delights  of  Syria.  At  length  a  candidate  pre- 
sented himself,  named  Meisara  Ibn  Mesroud  ;  a 
numerous  body  of  picked  men  was  placed  under 
his  command,  and  a  black  flag  was  given  him, 
bearing  the  inscription,  "  There  is  no  God  but 
God.  Mahomet  is  the  messenger  ot  God."  Da- 
mas  accompanied  him  at  the  head  of  one  thou- 
sand black  Ethiopian  slaves.  The  detachment 
suffered  greatly  in  the  mountains,  for  they  were 
men  of  sultry  climates,  unaccustomed  to  ice  and 
snow,  and  they  passed  suddenly  from  a  soft 
Syrian  summer  to  the  severity  of  frozen  win- 
ter, and  trom  the  midst  of  abundance  to  regions 
of  solitude  and  sterility.  The  inhabitants,  too, 
of  the  scanty  villages,  fled  at  their  approach.  At 
length  they  captured  a  prisoner,  who  informed 
them  that  an  imperial  army  of  many  thou- 
sand men  was  lying  in  wait  for  them  in  a  val- 
ley about  three  leagues  distant,  and  that  all 
the  passes  behind  them  were  guarded.  A 
scout,  dispatched  in  search  of  intelligence,  con- 
firmed this  news  ;  whereupon  they  intrenched 
themselves  in  a  commanding  position,  and  dis- 
patched a  fleet  courier  to  Abu  Obeidah,  to  inform 
him  of  their  perilous  situation. 

The  courier  made  such  speed  that  when  he 
reached  the  presence  of  Obeidah  he  fainted  through 
exhaustion.  Khaled,  who  had  just  returned  trom 


his  successful  expedition  to  the  Euphrates,  in- 
stantly hastened  to  the  relief  of  Meisara,  with 
three  thousand  men,  and  was  presently  followed 
by  Ayad  Ibn  Ganam,  with  two  thousand  more. 

Khaled  found  Meisara  and  his  men  making 
desperate  stand  against  an  overwhelming  force. 
At  the  sight  of  this  powerful  reinforcement,  with 
the  black  eagle  of  Khaled  in  the  advance,  the 
Greeks  gave  over  the  attack  and  returned  to  their 
camp,  but  secretly  retreated  in  the  night,  leaving 
their  tents  standing,  and  bearing  off  captive  Ab- 
dallah  Ibn  Hodafa,  a  near  relative  of  the  prophet 
and  a  beloved  friend  of  the  Caliph  Omar,  whom 
they  straightway  sent  to  the  emperor  at  Constan- 
tinople. 

The  Moslems  forbore  to  pursue  the  enemy 
through  these  difficult  mountains,  and,  after  plun- 
dering the  deserted  tents,  returned  to  the  main 
army.  When  the  Caliph  Omar  received  tidings 
from  Abu  Obeidah  of  the  capture  ot  Abdallah  Ibn 
Hodafa,  he  was  grieved  at  heart,  and  dispatched 
instantly  an  epistle  to  the  emperor  Heraclius  at 
Constantinople. 

"  Bismillah  !  In  the  name  of  the  all-merciful 
God  ! 

"  Praise  be  to  Allah,  the  Lord  of  this  world, 
and  of  that  which  is  to  come,  who  has  neither 
companion,  wife,  nor  son  ;  and  blessed  be  Ma- 
homet his  apostle.  Omar  Ibn  al  Khattab,  servant 
of  God,  to  Heraclius,  emperor  of  the  Greeks. 
As  soon  as  thou  shall  receive  this  epistle,  fail  not 
to  send  to  me  the  Moslem  captive  whose  name  is 
Abdallah  Ibn  Hodafa.  If  thou  doest  this,  I  shall 
have  hope  that  Allah  will  conduct  thee  in  the  right 
path.  If  thou  dost  refuse,  I  will  not  fail  to  send 
thee  such  men  as  traffic  and  merchandise  have 
not  turned  from  the  fear  of  God.  Health  and 
happiness  to  all  those  who  tread  in  the  right  way  !" 

In  the  mean  time  the  emperor  had  treated  his 
prisoner  with  great  distinction,  and  as  Abdallah 
was  a  cousin-german  to  the  prophet,  the  son  of 
one  of  his  uncles,  he  was  an  object  of  great  curi- 
osity at  Constantinople.  The  emperor  proffered 
him  liberty  it  he  would  only  make  a  single  sign  of 
adoration  to  the  crucifix,  and  magnificent  re- 
wards if  he  would  embrace  the  Christian  faith  ; 
but  both  proposals  were  rejected.  Heraclius,  say 
the  Arab  writers,  then  changed  his  treatment  of 
him  ;  shut  him  up  for  three  days  with  nothing  to 
eat  and  drink  but  swine's  flesh  and  wine,  but  on 
the  fourth  day  found  both  untouched.  The  faith 
of  Abdallah  was  put  to  no  further  proof,  as  by 
this  time  the  emperor  received  the  stern  letter 
from  the  Caliph.  The  letter  had  its  effect.  The 
prisoner  was  dismissed,  with  costly  robes  and  rich 
presents,  and  Heraclius  sent  to  Omar  a  diamond 
of  great  size  and  beauty  ;  but  no  jeweller  at  Me- 
dina could  estimate  its  value.  The  abstemious 
Omar  refused  to  appropriate  it  to  his  own  use, 
though  urged  to  do  so  by  the  Moslems.  He 
placed  it  in  the  public  treasury,  of  which,  from 
his  office,  he  was  the  guardian  and  manager.  It 
was  afterward  sold  tor  a  great  sum. 

A  singular  story  is- related  by  a  Moslem  writer, 
but  not  supported  by  any  rumor  or  surmise 
among  Christian  historians.  It  is  said  that  the  em- 
peror Heraclius  wavered  in  his  faith,  if  he  did  not 
absolutely  become  a  secret  convert  of  Mahome- 
tanism,  and  this  is  stated  as  the  cause.  He  was 
afflicted  with  a  violent  pain  in  the  head,  for  which 
he  could  find  no  remedy,  until  the  Caliph  Omar 
sent  him  a  cap  of  mysterious  virtue.  So  long  as 
he  wore  this  cap  he  was  at  ease,  but  the  moment 
he  laid  it  aside  the  pain  returned.  Heraclius 
caused  the  cap  to  be  ripped  open,  and.  found 


110 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


within  the  lining  a  scrap  of  paper,  on  which  was 
written  in  Arabic  character,  Bismillah  !  Arrah- 
mani  Arrahimi  !  In  the  name  of  the  all-merciful 
God.  This  cap  is  said  to  have  been  preserved 
among  the  Christians  until  the  year  833,  when  it 
was  given  up  by  the  governor  of  a  besieged  town 
to  the  Caliph  Almotassem,  on  condition  of  his 
raising  the  siege.  It  was  found  stiil  to  retain  its 
medicinal  virtues,  which  the  pious  Arabians  as- 
cribed to  the  efficacy  of  the  devout  inscription. 
An  unbelieving  Christian  will  set  it  down  among 
the  charms  and  incantations  which  have  full  effect 
on  imaginative  persons  inclined  to  credulity,  but 
upon  none  others  ;  such  persons  abounded  among 
the  Arabs. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

EXPEDITION  OF  AMRU  1BN  AL  AASS  AGAINST 
PRINCE  CONSTANT1NE  IN  SYRIA — THEIR  CON- 
FERENCE— CAPTURE  OF  TRIPOLI  AND  TYRE — 
FLIGHT  OF  CONSTANTINE — DEATH  OF  KHALED. 

THE  course  of  our  history  now  turns  to  record 
the  victories  of  Amrulbn  al  Aass,  to  whom,  after 
the  capture  of  Jerusalem,  the  Caliph  had  assign- 
ed the  invasion  and  subjugation  of  Egypt.  Amru, 
however,  did  not  proceed  immediately  to  that 
country,  but  remained  for  some  time  with  his  di- 
vision of  the  army,  in  Palestine,  where  some 
places  still  held  out  for  the  emperor.  The  nat- 
ural and  religious  sobriety  of  the  Arabs  was 
still  sorely  endangered  among  the  temptations  of 
Syria.  Several  of  the  Moslem  officers  being  seized 
while  on  the  march,  with  chills  and  griping  pains 
in  consequence  of  eating  unripe  grapes,  were 
counselled  by  a  crafty  old  Christian  Arab  to 
drink  freely  of  wine  which  he  produced,  and 
which  he  pronounced  a  sovereign  remedy.  They 
followed  his  prescriptions  so  lustily  that  they  all 
came  reeling  into  the  camp  to  the  great  scandal 
of  Amru.  The  punishment  for  drunkenness,  rec- 
ommended by  Ali  and  adopted  by  the  Caliph, 
was  administered  to  the  delinquents,  who  each 
received  a  sound  bastinado  on  the  soles  of  the 
feet.  This  sobered  them  completely,  but  so 
enraged  them  with  the  old  man  who  had  recom- 
mended the  potations  that  they  would  have  put 
him  to  death,  had  it  not  been  represented  to  them 
that  he  was  a  stranger  and  under  Moslem  pro- 
tection. 

Amru  now  advanced  upon  the  city  of  Cassarea, 
where  Constantine,  son  of  the  emperor,  was  posted 
with  a  large  army.  The  Moslems  were  beset  by 
spies,  sent  by  the  Christian  commander  to  obtain 
intelligence.  These  were  commonly  Christian 
Arabs,  whom  it  was  almost  impossible  to  distin- 
guish from  those  of  the  faith  of  Islam.  One  of 
these,  however,  after  sitting  one  day  by  the  camp 
fires,  as  he  rose  trod  on  the  end  of  his  own  robe 
and  stumbled  ;  in  his  vexation  he  uttered  an  oath 
"  by  Christ  !"  He  was  immediately  detected  by  his 
blasphemy  to  be  a  Christian  and  a  spy,  and  was  cut 
to  pieces  by  the  bystanders.  Amru  rebuked  them 
for  their  precipitancy,  as  he  might  have  gained 
information  from  their  victim,  and  ordered  that 
in  future  all  spies  should  be  brought  to  him. 

The  fears  of  Constantine  increased  with  the  ap- 
proach of  the  army,  and  he  now  dispatched  a 
Christian  priest  to  Amru,  soliciting  him  to  send 
some  principal  officer  to  confer  amicably  with 
him.  An  Ethiopian  negro,  named  Belal  Ibn 


Rebah,  offered  to  undertake  the  embassy.  He 
was  a  man  of  powerful  frame  and  sonorous  voice, 
and  had  been  employed  by  Mahomet  as  a  Muezzin 
or  crier,  to  summon  the  people  to  prayers.  Proud 
of  having  officiated  under  the  prophet,  he  retired 
irom  office  at  his  death,  and  had  raised  his  voice 
but  once  since  that  event,  and  that  was  on  the 
taking  possession  of  Jerusalem,  the  city  of  the 
prophets,  when  at  the  Caliph  Omar's  command, 
he  summoned  the  true  believers  to  prayers  with  a 
force  of  lungs  that  astonished  the  Jewish  inhabi- 
tants. 

Amru  would  have  declined  the  officious  offer  of 
the  vociferous  Ethiopian,  representing  to  him  that 
such  a  mission  required  a  smooth-spoken  Arab, 
rather  than  one  of  his  country  ;  but,  on  Belal  con- 
juring him  in  the  name  of  Allah  and  the  prophet 
to  let  him  go,  he  reluctantly  consented.  When 
the  priest  saw  who  was  to  accompany  him  back 
to  Constantine,  he  objected  stoutly  to  such  an  am- 
bassador, and  glancing  contemptuously  at  the 
negro  features  of  the  Ethiopian,  observed  that 
Constantine  had  not  sent  for  a  slave  but  for  an 
officer.  The  negro  ambassador,  however,  per- 
sisted in  his  diplomatic  errand,  but  was  refused 
admission,  and  returned  mortified  and  indignant. 
Amru  now  determined  to  undertake  the  confer- 
ence in  person.  Repairing  to  the  Christian  camp, 
he  was  conducted  to  Constantine,  whom  he  found 
seated  in  state,  and  who  ordered  a  chair  to  be 
placed  for  him  ;  but  he  put  it  aside,  and  seated 
himself  cross-legged  on  the  ground  after  the  Arab 
fashion,  with  his  scimetar  on  his  thigh  and  his 
lance  across  his  knees.  The  curious  conference 
that  ensued  is  minutely  narrated  by  that  pious 
Imam  and  Cadi,  the  Moslem  historian  Ahvakecli, 
in  his  chronicle  of  the  conquest  of  Syria. 

Constantine  remonstrated  against  the  invasion, 
telling  Amru  that  the  Romans  and  Greeks  and 
Arabs  were  brethren,  as  being  all  the  children  of 
Noah,  although,  it  was  true,  the  Arabs  were  mis- 
begotten, as  being  the  descendants  of  Ishmael, 
the  son  of  Hagar,  a  slave  and  a  concubine,  yet 
being  thus  brethren,  it  was  sinful  for  them  to  war 
against  each  other. 

Amru  replied  that  what  Constantine  had  said 
was  true,  and  that  the  Arabs  gloried  in  acknowl- 
edging Ishmael  as  their  progenitor,  and  envied 
not  the  Greeks  their  forefather  Esau,  who  had 
sold  his  birthright  lor  a  mess  of  pottage.  He 
added  that  their  difference  related  to  their  relig- 
ion, upon  which  ground  even  brothers  were  jus- 
tified in  warfare. 

Amru  proceeded  to  state  that  Noah,  after  the 
deluge,  divided  the  earth  into  three  parts,  be- 
tween his  sons  Shem,  Ham,  and  Japhet,  and  that 
Syria  was  in  the  portion  assigned  to  Shem,  which 
continued  down  through  his  descendants  Kathan 
and  Tesm,  and  Jodais  to  Amalek,  the  father  of  the 
Amalekite  Arabs  ;  but  that  the  Arabs  had  been 
pushed  from  their  fertile  inheritance  of  Syria  into 
the  stony  and  thorny  deserts  of  Arabia. 

"  We  come  now,"  continued  Amru,  "  to  claim 
our  ancient  inheritance,  and  resume  the  ancient 
partition.  Take  you  the  stones  and  the  thorns 
and  the  barren  deserts  we  have  occupied,  and 
give  us  back  the  pleasant  land  of  Syria,  with  its 
groves,  its  pastures,  its  fair  cities  and  running 
streams." 

To  this  Constantine  replied,  that  the  partition 
was  already  made  ;  that  time  and  possession  had 
confirmed  it  ;  and  that  the  groves  had  been  plant- 
ed, and  the  cities  built  by  the  present  inhabitants. 
Each,  therefore,  ought  to  be  contented  with  the 
lot  that  had  fallen  to  him. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


117 


.  "  There  are  two  conditions,"  rejoined  Amru, 
'•  on  which  the  land  may  remain  with  its  present 
innabitants.  Let  them  profess  the  religion  of  Is- 
iam,  or  pay  tribute  to  the  Caliph,  as  is  due  from 
all  unbelievers." 

"  Not  so,"  said  Constantine,  "  but  let  each  con- 
tinue to  possess  the  land  he  has  inhabited,  and 
enjoy  the  produce  of  his  own  toil,  and  profess  the 
faith  which  he  believes,  in  his  own  conscience,  to 
be  true." 

Upon  this  Amru  sternly  rose.  "  One  only  alter- 
native," said  he,  "  remains.  Since  you  obsti- 
nately refuse  the  conditions  I  propose,  even  as 
your  ancestor  Esau  refused  obedience  to  his 
mother,  let  God  and  the  sword  decide  between 
us." 

As  he  was  about  to  depart,  he  added  :  "  We 
will  acknowledge  no  kindred  with  you,  while  ye 
continue  unbelievers.  Ye  are  the  children  of 
Esau,  we  of  Ishmael,  through  whom  alone  the 
seal  and  gift  of  prophecy  descended  from  father  to 
son,  from  our  great  forefather  Adam,  until  it 
reached  the  prophet  Mahomet.  Now  Ishmael 
was  the  best  of  the  sons  of  his  father,  and  made 
the  tribe  of  Kenanah,  the  best  tribe  of  Arabia  ; 
and  the  family  of  Koreish  is  the  best  of  the  tribe 
of  Kenanah  ;  and  the  children  of  Haschem  are 
the  best  of  the  family  of  Koreish  ;  and  Abdallah 
Motiilleb,  grandsire  of  Mahomet,  was  the  best  of 
the  sons  of  Haschem  ;  and  Abdallah,  the  young- 
est and  best  of  the  thirteen  sons  of  Abu  Motalleb, 
was  the  father  of  Mahomet  (on  whom  be  peace  !), 
who  was  the  best  and  only  issue  of  his  sire  ;  and 
to  him  the  angel  Gabriel  descended  from  Allah, 
and  inspired  him  with  the  gift  of  prophecy." 

Thus  terminated  this  noted  conference,  and 
Amru  returned  to  his  host.  The  armies  now  re- 
mained in  sight  of  each  other,  prepared  for  battle, 
but  without  coming  to  action.  One  day  an  officer 
richly  arrayed  came  forth  from  the  Christian 
camp,  defying  the  Moslems  to  single  combat. 
Several  were  eager  to  accept  the  challenge  in 
hopes  of  gaining  such  glittering  spoil  ;  but  Amru 
rebuked  their  sordid  motives.  "  Let  no  man  fight 
for  gain,"  said  he,  "  but  for  the  truth.  He  who 
loses  his  life  fighting  for  the  love  of  God  will  have 
paradise  as  a  reward  ;  but  he  who  loses  it  fight- 
ing tor  any  other  object  will  lose  his  life  and  all 
that  he  fights  for." 

A  stripling  now  advanced,  an  Arab  from  Yemen, 
or  Arabia  the  Happy,  who  had  sought  these  wars 
not,  as  he  said,  for  the  delights  of  Syria,  or  the 
fading  enjoyments  of  this  world,  but  to  devote 
himself  to  the  service  of  God  and  his  apostle. 
His  mother  and  sister  had  in  vain  opposed  his 
leaving  his  peaceful  home  to  seek  a  life  of  dan- 
ger. "  If  I  fall  in  the  service  of  Allah,"  said  he, 
"  I  shall  be  a  martyr  ;  and  the  prophet  has  said 
that  the  spirits  of  the  martyrs  shall  dwell  in  the 
crops  of  the  green  birds  that  eat  of  the  fruits  and 
drink  of  the  rivers  of  paradise."  Finding  their 
remonstrances  of  no  avail,  his  mother  and  sister 
had  followed  him  to  the  wars,  and  they  now  endea- 
vored to  dissuade  him  from  fighting  with  an  adver- 
sary so  much  his  superior  in  strength  and  years  ; 
but  the  youthful  enthusiast  was  not  to  be  moved. 
"Farewell,  mother  and  sister!"  cried  he;  "we 
shall  meet  again  by  that  river  of  joy  provided  in 
paradise  for  the  apostle  and  his  followers." 

The  youth  rushed  to  the  combat,  but  obtained 
almost  instantly  the  crown  of  martyrdom  he 
sought.  Another  and  another  succeeded  him, 
but  shared  the  same  fate.  Serjabil  Ibn  Hasanah 
stepped  forth.  As  on  a  former  occasion,  in  puri- 
tying  the  spirit,  he  had  reduced  the  flesh  ;  and  a 


course  of  watching  and  fasting  had  rendered  him 
but  little  competent  to  face  his  powerful  adversary. 
After  a  short  combat  the  Christian  bore  him  to 
the  earth,  and  setting  his  foot  upon  his  breast, 
was  about  to  take  his  life,  when  his  own  hand 
was  suddenly  severed  from  his  body.  The  pros- 
trate Serjabil  looked  up  with  surprise  at  his  de- 
liverer ;  for  he  was  in  Grecian  attire,  and  had 
come  from  the  Grecian  host.  He  announced  him- 
self as  the  unhappy  Tulei'a  Ibn  Chovvailed,  for- 
merly a  pretended  prophet  and  an  associate  of 
Moseilma.  After  the  death  of  that  impostor,  he 
had  repented  of  his  false  prophecies,  and  become 
a  Moslem  in  heart,  and  had  sought  an  opportunity 
of  signalizing  his  devotion  to  the  Islam  cause. 

"Oh  brother!"  cried  Serjabil,  "the  mercy  of 
Allah  is  infinite,  and  repentance  wipes  away  all 
crimes." 

Serjabil  would  now  have  taken  him  to  the  Mos- 
lem host,  but  Tulei'a  hung  back  ;  and  at  length 
confessed  that  he  would  long  since  have  joined  the 
standard  of  Islam,  but  that  he  was  afraid  of  Kha- 
led,  that  terror  and  scourge  of  false  prophets,  who 
had  killed  his  friend  Moseilma,  and  who  might 
put  him  to  death  out  of  resentment  for  past  mis- 
deeds. Serjabil  quieted  his  fears  by  assuring  him 
that  Khaled  was  not  in  the  Moslem  camp  ;  he  then 
conducted  him  to  Amru,  who  received  him  with 
great  favor,  and  afterward  gave  him  a  letter  to 
the  Caliph  setting  forth  the  signal  service  he  had 
performed,  and  his  sincere  devotion  to  the  cause 
of  Islam.  He  was  subsequently  employed  in  the 
wars  of  the  Moslems  against  the  Persians. 

The  weather  was  cold  and  tempestuous,  and 
the  Christians,  disheartened  b^  repeated  reverses, 
began  daily  to  desert  their  colors.  The  prince 
Constantine  dreaded,  with  his  diminished  and  dis- 
couraged troops,  to  encounter  an  enemy  flushed 
with  success,  and  continually  augmenting  in  force. 
Accordingly,  he  took  advantage  of  a  tempestuous 
night,  and  abandoning  his  camp  to  be  plundered 
by  the  Moslems,  retreated  with  his  army  to  Cassa- 
rea,  and  shut  himself  up  within  its  walls.  Hither 
he  was  soon  followed  by  Amru,  who  laid  close 
siege  to  the  place,  but  the  walls  were  strong, 
the  garrison  was  numerous,  and  Constantine 
hoped  to  be  able  to  hold  out  until  the  arrival  of 
reinforcements.  The  tidings  of  further  disasters 
and  disgraces  to  the  imperial  cause,  however, 
destroyed  this  hope  ;  and  these  were  brought  about 
by  the  stratagems  and  treacheries  of  that  arch  de- 
ceiver Youkenna.  After  the  surrender  of  An- 
tioch,  that  wily  traitor  still  kept  up  his  pretended 
devotion  to  the  Christian  cause,  and  retreated 
with  his  band  of  renegadoes  to  the  town  of 
Tripoli,  a  seaport  in  Syria,  situated  on  the  Medi- 
terranean. Here  he  was  cordially  admitted,  as 
his  treachery  was  still  unknown.  Watching  his 
opportunity,  he  rose  with  his  devoted  band,  seized 
on  the  town  and  citadel  without  noise  or  tumult, 
and  kept  the  standard  of  the  cross  still  flying, 
while  he  sent  secret  intelligence  of  his  exploit  to 
Abu  Obeidah.  Just  at  this  time,  a  fleet  ol  fifty 
ships  from  Cyprus  and  Crete  put  in  there,  laden 
with  arms  and  provisions  for  Constantine's  army. 
Before  notice  could  be  given  of  the  posture  of 
affairs,  Youkenna  gained  possession  of  the  ships, 
and  embarked  on  board  of  them  with  his  rene- 
gadoes and  other  troops,  delivering  the  city  of 
Tripoli  into  the  hands  of  the  force  sent  by  Abu 
Obeidah  to  receive  it. 

Bent  on  new  treacheries,  Youkenna  now  sailed 
with  the  fleet  to  Tyre,  displaying  the  Christian 
flag,  and  informing  the  governor  that  he  was 
come  with  a  reinforcement  for  the  araiy  of  the 


118 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


emperor.  He  was  kindly  received,  and  landed 
with  nine  hundred  of  his  troops,  intending  to  rise 
on  the  garrison  in  the  night.  One  of  his  own 
men,  however,  betrayed  the  plot,  and  Youkenna 
and  his  followers  were  seized  and  imprisoned  in 
the  citadel. 

In  the  mean  time  Yezed  Ibn  Abu  Sofian,  who 
had  marched  with  two  thousand  men  against 
Cassarea,  but  had  left  Amru  to  subdue  it,  came 
with  his  troops  into  the  neighborhood  of  Tyre,  in 
hopes  toJind  it  in  possession  of  Youkenna.  The 
governor  of  the  city,  despising  so  slender  a  force, 
sallied  forth  with  the  greater  part  of  his  garrison, 
and  the  inhabitants  mounted  on  the  walls  to  see 
the  battle. 

It  was  the  fortune  of  Youkenna,  which  he  de- 
rived from  his  consummate  skill  in  intrigue,  that 
his  failure  and  captivity  on  this  occasion,  as  on  a 
former  one  in  the  castle  of  Aazaz,  served  only  as 
a  foundation  for  his  success.  He  contrived  to 
gain  over  a  Christian  officer  named  Basil,  to 
whose  keeping  he  and  the  other  prisoners  were 
intrusted,  and  who  was  already  disposed  to  em- 
brace the  Islam  faith  ;  and  he  sent  information  of 
his  plan  by  a  disguised  messenger  to  Yezed,  and 
to  those  of  his  own  followers  who  remained  on 
board  of  the  fleet.  All  this  was  the  work  of  a  few 
hours,  while  the  opposing  forces  were  preparing 
for  action. 

The  battle  was  hardly  begun  when  Youkenna 
and  his  nine  hundred  men,  set  free  by  the  apos- 
tate Basil,  and  conducted  to  the  arsenal,  armed 
themselves  and  separated  in  different  parties. 
Some  scoured  the  streets,  shouting  La  ilaha 
Allah  !  and  Allah^  Achbar  !  Others  stationed 
themselves  at  the  passages  by  which  alone  the 
guard  could  descend  from  the  walls.  Others  ran 
to  the  port,  where  they  were  joined  by  their  com- 
rades from  the  fleet,  and  others  threw  wide  the 
gates  to  a  detachment  of  the  army  of  Yezed.  All 
this  was  suddenly  effected,  and  with  such  co- 
operation from  various  points,  that  the  place  was 
presently  in  the  hands  of  the  Moslems.  Most  of 
the  inhabitants  embraced  the  Islam  faith  ;  the  rest 
were  pillaged  and  made  slaves. 

It  was  the  tidings  of  the  loss  of  Tripoli  and 
Tyre,  and  of  the  capture  of  the  fleet,  with  its 
munitions  of  war,  that  struck  dismay  into  the 
heart  of  the  prince  Constantine,  and  made  him 
quake  within  the  walls  of  Cassarea.  He  felt  as  if 
Amru  and  his  besieging  army  were  already  within 
the  walls,  and,  taking  disgraceful  counsel  from 
his  fears,  and  example  from  his  father's  flight 
from  Antioch,  he  removed  furtively  from  Cassarea 
with  his  family  and  vast  treasure,  gained  prompt- 
ly a  convenient  port,  and  set  all  sail  for  Constanti- 
nople. 

The  people  of  Cassarea  find  ing  one  morning  that 
the  son  of  their  sovereign  had  fled  in  the  night, 
capitulated  with  Amru,  offering  to  deliver  up  the 
city,  with  all  the  wealth  belonging  to  the  family 
of  the  late  emperor,  and  two  hundred  thousand 
pieces  of  silver,  as  ransom  for  their  own  property. 
Their  terms  were  promptly  accepted,  Amru  being 
anxious  to  depart  on  the  invasion  of  Egypt. 

The  surrender  of  Cassarea  was  followed  by  the 
other  places  in  the  province  which  had  still  held 
out,  and  thus,  after  a  war  of  six  years,  the  Moslem 
conquest  of  Syria  was  completed,  in  the  fifth  year 
of  the  Caliph  Omar,  the  29th, of  the  reign  of  the 
emperor  Heraclius,  the  iyth  of  the  Hegira,  and 
the  639th  year  of  our  redemption. 

The  conquest  was  followed  by  a  pestilence,  one 
of  the  customary  attendants  upon  war.  Great 
numbers  of  the  people  of  Syria  perished,  and  with 


them  twenty-five  thousand  of  their  Arabian  con- 
querors.  Among  the  latter  was  Abu  Obeidah, 
the  commancler-in-chief,  then  fifty-eight  years  oi 
age  ;  also  Yezed  Ibn  Abu  Sofian,  Serjabil,  ana 
other  distinguished  generals,  so  that  the  i8th  year 
of  the  Hegira  became  designated  as  "  The  year  of 
the  mortality." 

In  closing  this  account  of  the  conquest  of  Syria, 
we  must  note  the  fate  of  one  of  the  most  efficieni 
of  its  conquerors,  the  invincible  Khaled.  He  haa 
never  been  a  favorite  of  Omar,  who  considered 
him  rash  and  headlong,  arrogant  in  the  exercise 
of  command,  unsparing  in  the  use  of  the  sword, 
and  rapacious  in  grasping  the  spoils  of  victory. 
His  brilliant  achievements  in  Irak  and  Syria,  ana 
the  magnanimity  with  which  he  yielded  the  com- 
mand to  Abu  Obeidah,  and  zealously  fought  under 
his  standard,  had  never  sufficed  to  efface  the 
prejudice  of  Omar. 

After  the  capture  of  Emessa,  which  was  mainly 
effected  by  the  bravery  of  Khaled,  he  received  con- 
gratulations on  all  hands  as  the  victor.  Eschaus, 
an  Arabian  poet,  sang  his  exploits  in  lofty  verse, 
making  him  the  hero  of  the  whole  Syrian  conquest. 
Khaled,  who  was  as  ready  to  squander  as  to  grasp. 
rewarded  the  adulation  of  the  poet  with  thirty 
thousand  pieces  of  silver.  All  this,  when  report- 
ed to  Omar,  excited  his  quick  disgust  ;  he  was  in- 
dignant at  Khaled  for  arrogating  to  himself,  as  he 
supposed,  all  the  glory  of  the  war  ;  and  he  attrib- 
uted the  lavish  reward  of  the  poet  to  gratified 
vanity.  "  Even  if  the  money  came  from  his  own 
purse,"  said  he,  "  it  was  shameful  squandering  ; 
and  God,  says  the  Koran,  loves  not  a  squan- 
derer." 

He  now  gave  faith  to  a  charge  made  against 
Khaled  of  embezzling  the  spoils  set  apart  for  .the 
public  treasury,  and  forthwith  sent  orders  for  him 
to  be  degraded  from  his  command  in  presence  of 
the  assembled  army  ;  it  is  even  said  his  arms 
were  tied  behind  his  back  with  his  turban. 

A  rigid  examination  proved  the  charge  of  em- 
bezzlement to  be  unfounded,  but  Khaled  was  sub- 
jected to  a  heavy  fine.  The  sentence  causing 
great  dissatisfaction  in  the  army,  (he  Caliph  wrote 
to  the  commanders  :  "I  have  punished  Khaled 
not  on  account  of  fraud  or  falsehood,  but  for  his 
vanity  and  prodigality  ;  paying  poets  for  ascrib- 
ing to  him  alone  all  the  successes  of  the  holy 
war.  Good  and  evil  come  from  God,  not  from 
Khaled  !" 

These  indignities  broke  the  heart  of  the  veteran, 
who  was  already  infirm  from  the  wounds  and 
hardships  of  his  arduous  campaigns,  and  he 
gradually  sank  into  the  grave,  regretting  in  his 
last  moments  that  he  had  not  died  in  the  field  of 
battle.  He  left  a  name  idolized  by  the  soldiery 
and  beloved  by  his  kindred  ;  at  his  sepulture,  all 
the  women  of  his  race  cut  off  their  hair  in  token 
of  lamentation.  When  it  was  ascertained,  at  his 
death,  that  instead  of  having  enriched  himself  by 
the  wars,  his  whole  property  consisted  of  his  war- 
horse,  his  arms,  and  single  slave,  Omar  became 
sensible  of  the  injustice  he  had  done  to  his  faith- 
ful general,  and  shed  tears  over  his  grave. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

INVASION  OF  EGYPT  BY  AMRU — CAPTURE  OP 
MEMPHIS — SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER  OF  ALEX- 
ANDRIA— BURNING  OF  THE  ALEXANDRIAN  LI- 
BRARY. 

A  PROOF  of   the   religious    infatuation,  or  the 
blind   confidence  in  destiny,  which  hurried   the 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


119 


Moslem  commanders  of  those  days  into  the  most 
extravagant  enterprises,  is  furnished  in  the  inva- 
sion of  the  once  proud  empire  of  the  Pharaohs,  the 
mighty,  the  mysterious  Egypt,  with  an  army  of 
merely  five  thousand  men.  The  Caliph,  himself, 
though  he  had  suggested  this  expedition,  seems 
to  have  been  conscious  of  its  rashness  ;  or  rather 
to  have  been  chilled  by  the  doubts  of  his  prime 
counsellor  Othman  ;  for,  while  Amru  was  on  the 
march,  he  dispatched  missives  after  him  to  the 
following  effect  :  "  If  this  epistle  reach  thee  before 
thou  hast  crossed  the  boundary  of  Egypt,  come 
instantly  back  ;  but  if  it  find  thee  within  the 
Egyptian  territory,  march  on  with  the  blessing  of 
Allah,  and  be  assured  I  will  send  thee  all  neces- 
sary aid." 

The  bearer  of  the  letter  overtook  Amru  while 
yet  within  the  bounds  of  Syria  ;  that  wary  gen- 
eral either  had  secret  information,  or  made  a 
shrewd  surmise,  as  to  the  purport  of  his  errand, 
and  continued  his  march  across  the  border  with- 
out admitting  him  to  an  audience.  Having  en- 
:amped  at  the  Egyptian  village  of  Arish,  he  re- 
vived the  courier  with  all  due  respect,  and  read 
the  letter  aloud  in  the  presence  of  his  officers. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  demanded  of  those 
about  him  whether  they  were  in  Syria  or  Egypt. 
"  In  Egypt,"  was  the  reply.  "  Then,"  said 
Amru,  "  we  will  proceed,  with  the  blessing  of 
Allah,  and  fulfil  the  commands  of  the  Caliph." 

The  first  place  to  which  he  laid  siege  was  Far- 
wak,  or  Pelusium,  situated  on  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean,  on  the  Isthmus  which  separates 
that  sea  from  the  Arabian  Gulf,  and  connects 
Egypt  with  Syria  and  Arabia.  It  was  therefore 
considered  the  key  to  Egypt.  A  month's  siege 
put  Amru  in  possession  of  the  place  ;  he  then  ex- 
amined the  surrounding  country  with  more  fore- 
thought that  was  generally  manifested  by  the 
Moslem  conquerors,  and  projected  a  canal  across 
the  Isthmus,  to  connect  the  waters  of  the  Red  Sea 
and  the  Mediterranean.  His  plan,  however,  was 
condemned  by  the  Caliph,  as  calculated  to  throw 
open  Arabia  to  a  maritime  invasion  of  the  Chris- 
tians. 

Amru  now  proceeded  to  Misrah,  the  Memphis 
of  the  ancients,  and  residence  of  the  early  Egyp- 
tian kings.  This  city  was  at  that  time  the  strong- 
est fortress  in  Egypt,  except  Alexandria,  and  still 
retained  much  of  its  ancient  magnificence.  It 
stood  on  the  western  bank  of  the  Nile,  above  the 
Delta,  and  a  little  east  of  the  Pyramids.  The 
citadel  was  of  great  strength,  and  well  garrisoned, 
and  had  recently  been  surrounded  with  a  deep 
ditch,  into  which  nails  and  spikes  had  been 
thrown,  to  impede  assailants. 

The  Arab  armies,  rarely  provided  with  the  en- 
gines necessary  for  the  attack  of  fortified  places, 
generally  beleaguered  them  ;  cut  off  all  sup- 
plies ;  attacked  all  foraging  parties  that  sallied 
forth,  and  thus  destroyed  the  garrison  in  detail, 
or  starved  it  to  a  surrender.  This  was  the  reason 
of  the  long  duration  of  their  sieges.  This  of  Mis- 
rah, or  Memphis,  lasted  seven  months  :  in  the 
course  of  which  the  little  army  of  Amru  was 
much  reduced  by  frequent  skirmishings.  At  the 
end  of  this  time  he  received  a  reinforcement  of 
four  thousand  men,  sent  to  him  at  his  urgent  en- 
treaties by  the  Caliph.  Still  his  force  would  have 
been  insufficient  for  the  capture  of  the  place,  had 
he  not  been  aided  by  the  treachery  of  its  governor, 
Mokawkas. 

This  man,  an  original  Egyptian,  or  Copt,  by 
birth,  and  of  noble  rank,  was  a  profound  hypo- 
crite. Like  most  of  the  Copts,  he  was  of  the  Jacob- 


ite sect,  who  denied  the  double  nature  of  Christ. 
He  had  dissembled  his  sectarian  creed,  however, 
and  deceived  the  emperor  Heraclius  by  a  show 
of  loyalty,  so  as  to  be  made  prefect  of  his  native 
province,  and  governor  of  the  city.  Most  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Memphis  were  Copts  and  Jacobite 
Christians,  and  held  their  Greek  fellow-citizens, 
who  were  of  the  regular  Catholic  church  of  Con- 
stantinople, in  great  antipathy. 

Mokawkas  in  the  course  of  his  administration 
had  collected,  by  taxes  and  tribute,  an  immense 
amount  of  treasure,  which  he  had  deposited  in  the 
citadel.  He  saw  that  the  power  of  the  emperor 
was  coming  to  an  end  in  this  quarter,  and  thought 
the  present  a  good  opportunity  to  provide  for  his 
own  fortune.  Carrying  on  a  secret  correspond- 
ence with  the  Moslem  general,  he  agreed  to  be- 
tray the  place  into  his  hands,  on  condition  of  re- 
ceiving the  treasure  as  a  reward  for  his  treason. 
He  accordingly,  at  an  appointed  time,  removed 
the  greater  part  of  the  garrison  from  the  citadel  to 
an  island  in  the  Nile.  The  fortress  was  immedi- 
ately assailed  by  Amru,  at  the  head  of  his  fresh 
troops,  and  was  easily  carried  by  assault,  the 
Copts  rendering  no  assistance.  The  Greek  sol- 
diery, on  the  Moslem  standard  being  hoisted  on 
the  citadel,  saw  through  the  treachery,  and,  giv- 
ing up  all  as  lost,  escaped  in  their  ships  to  the 
main  land  ;  upon  which  the  prefect  surrendered 
the  place  by  capitulation.  An  annual  tribute  of 
two  ducats  a  head  was  levied  on  all  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  district,  with  the  exception  of  old  men, 
women,  and  boys  under  the  age  of  sixteen  years. 
It  was  further  conditioned  that  the  Moslem  army 
should  be  furnished  with  provisions,  for  which 
they  would  pay,  and  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country  should,  forthwith,  build  bridges  over  all 
the  streams  on  the  way  to  Alexandria.  It  was 
also  agreed  that  every  Mussulman  travelling 
through  the  country  should  be  entitled  to  three 
days'  hospitality,  free  of  charge. 

The  traitor  Mokawkas  was  put  in  possession' of 
his  ill-gotten  wealth.  He  begged  of  Amru  to  be 
taxed  with  the  Copts,  and  always  to  be  enrolled 
among  them  ;  declaring  his  abhorrence  of  the 
Greeks  and  their  doctrines  ;  urging  Amru  to  per- 
secute them  with  unremitting  violence.  He  ex- 
tended his  sectarian  bigotry  even  into  the  grave, 
stipulating  that,  at  his  death,  he  should  be  buried 
in  the  Christian  Jacobite  church  of  St.  John,  at 
Alexandria. 

Amru,  who  was  politic  as  well  as  brave,  seeing 
the  irreconcilable  hatred  of  the  Coptic  or  Jacobite 
Christians  to  the  Greeks,  showed  some  favor  to 
that  sect,  in  order  to  make  use  of  them  in  his  con- 
quest of  the  country.  He  even  prevailed  upon 
their  patriarch  Benjamin  to  emerge  from  his 
desert  and  hold  a  conference  with  him  ;  and  subse 
quently  declared  that  "  he  had  never  conversed 
with  a  Christian  priest  of  more  innocent  manners 
or  venerable  aspect."  This  piece  of  diplomacy 
had  its  effect,  for  we  are  told  that  all  the  Copts 
above  and  below  Memphis  swore  allegiance  to  the 
Caliph. 

Amru  now  pressed  on  for  the  city  of  Alexan- 
dria, distant  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
miles.  According  to  stipulation,  the  people  of  the 
country  repaired  the  roads  and  erected  bridges  to 
facilitate  his  march  ;  the  Greeks,  however,  driven 
from  various  quarters  by  the  progress  of  their  in- 
vaders, had  collected  at  different  posts  on  the 
island  of  the  Delta,  and  the  channels  of  the  Nile, 
and  disputed  with  desperate  but  fruitless  obsti- 
nacy, the  onward  course  of  the  conquerors.  The 
severest  check  was  given  at  Keram  al  Shoraik,  by 


120 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


the  late  garrison  of  Memphis,  who  had  fortified 
themselves  there  after  retreating  from  the  island 
of  the  Nile.  For  three  days  did  they  maintain 
a  gallant  conflict  with  the  Moslems,  and  then  re- 
tired in  good  order  to  Alexandria.  With  all  the 
facilities  furnished  to  them  on  their  march,  it  cost 
the  Moslems  two-and-twenty  days  to  fight  their 
way  to  that  great  city. 

Alexandria  now  lay  before  them,  the  metropolis 
of  wealthy  Egypt,  the  emporium  of  the  East,  a 
place  strongly  fortified,  stored  with  all  the  muni- 
tions of  war,  open  by  sea  to  all  kinds  of  supplies 
and  reinforcements,  and  garrisoned  by  Greeks, 
aggregated  from  various  quarters,  who  here  were 
to  make  the  last  stand  for  their  Egyptian  empire. 
It  would  seem  that  nothing  short  of  an  enthusi- 
asm bordering  on  madness  could  have  led  Amru 
and  his. host  on  an  enterprise  against  this  power- 
ful city. 

The  Moslem  leader,  on  planting  his  standard 
before  the  place,  summoned  it  to  surrender  on  the 
usual  terms,  which  being  promptly  refused,  he 
prepared  for  a  vigorous  siege.  The  garrison  did 
not  wait  to  be  attacked,  but  made  repeated  sallies, 
and  fought  with  desperate  valor.  Those  who 
gave  greatest  annoyance  to  the  Moslems  were 
their  old  enemies,  the  Greek  troops  from  Mem- 
phis. Amru,  seeing  that  the  greatest  defence  was 
from  a  main  tower,  or  citadel,  made  a  gallant  as- 
sault upon  it,  and  carried  it  sword  in  hand.  The 
Greek  troops,  however,  rallied  to  that  point  from 
all  parts  of  the  city  ;  the  Moslems,  after  a  furious 
struggle,  gave  way,  and  Amru,  his  faithful  slave 
Werdan,  and  one  of  his  generals,  named  Moslema 
Ibn  al  Mokalled,  fighting  to  the  last,  were  sur- 
rounded, overpowered,  and  taken  prisoners. 

The  Greeks,  unaware  of  the  importance  of  their 
captives,  led  them  before  the  governor.  He  de- 
manded of  them,  haughtily,  what  was  their  object 
in  thus  overrunning  the  world,  and  disturbing  the 
quiet  of  peaceable  neighbors.  Amru  made  the 
usual  reply,  that  they  came  to  spread  the  faith  of 
Islam  ;  and  that  it  was  their  intention,  before  they 
laid  by  the  sword,  to  make  the  Egyptians  either 
converts  or  tributaries.  The  boldness  of  his  an- 
swer and  the  loftiness  of  his  demeanor  awakened 
the  suspicions  of  the  governor,  who,  supposing 
him  to  be  a  warrior  of  note  among  the  Arabs,  or- 
dered one  of  his  guards  to  strike  off  his  head. 
Upon  this  Werdan,  the  slave,  understanding  the 
Greek  language,  seized  his  master  by  the  collar, 
and,  giving  him  a  buffet  on  the  cheek,  called  him 
an  impudent  dog,  and  ordered  him  to  hold  his 
peace,  and  let  his  superiors  speak.  Moslema, 
perceiving  the  meaning  of  the  slave,  now  inter- 
posed, and  made  a  plausible  speech  to  the  gov- 
ernor, telling  him  that  Amru  had  thoughts  of  rais- 
ing the  siege,  having  received  a  letter  to  that 
effect  from  the  Caliph,  who  intended  to  send  am- 
bassadors to  treat  for  peace,  and  assuring  the 
governor  that,  if  permitted  to  depart,  they  would 
make  a  favorable  report  to  Amru. 

The  governor,  who,  if  Arabian  chronicles  may 
be  believed  on  this  point,  must  have  been  a  man 
of  easy  faith,  ordered  the  prisoners  to  be  set  at 
liberty  ;  but  the  shouts  of  the  besieging  army  on 
the  safe  return  of  their  general  soon  showed  him 
how  completely  he  had  been  duped. 

But  scanty  details  of  the  siege  of  Alexandria 
have  reached  the  Christian  reader,  yet  it  was  one 
of  the  longest,  most  obstinately  contested  and 
sanguinary,  in  the  whole  course  of  the  Moslem 
wars.  It  endured  fourteen  months  with  various 
success  ;  the  Moslem  army  was  repeatedly  rein- 
forced, and  lost  twenty-three  thousand  men  ;  at 


length  their  irresistible  ardor  and  perseverance 
prevailed  ;  the  capital  of  Egypt  was  conquered, 
and  the  Greek  inhabitants  were  dispersed  in  all 
directions.  Some  retreated  in  considerable  bodies 
into  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  fortified  them- 
selves in  strongholds  ;  others  took  refuge  in  the 
ships,  and  put  to  sea. 

Amru,  on  taking  possession  of  the  city,  found 
it  nearly  .abandoned  ;  he  prohibited  his  troops 
from  plundering  ;  and  leaving  a  small  garrison 
to  guard  the  place,  hastened  with  his  main  army 
in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive  Greeks.  In  the  mean 
time  the  ships  which  had  taken  off  a  part  of  the 
garrison  were  still  lingering  on  the  coast,  and 
tidings  reached  them  that  the  Moslem  general 
had  departed,  and  had  left  the  captured  city  nearly 
defenceless.  They  immediately  made  sail  back 
for  Alexandria,  and  entered  the  port  in  the  night. 
The  Greek  soldiers  surprised  the  sentinels,  got 
possession  of  the  city,  and  put  most  of  the  Moslems 
they  found  there  to  the  sword. 

Amru  was  in  full  pursuit  of  the  Greek  fugitives 
when  he  heard  of  the  recapture  of  the  city.  Mor- 
tified at  his  own  negligence  in  leaving  so  rich  a 
conquest  with  so  slight  a  guard,  he  returned  in 
all  haste,  resolved  to  retake  it  by  storm.  The 
Greeks,  however,  had  fortified  themselves  strong- 
ly in  the  castle,  and  made  stout  resistance.  Amru 
was  obliged,  therefore,  to  besiege  it  a  second  time, 
but  the  siege  was  short.  The  castle  was  carried 
by  assault  ;  many  of  the  Greeks  were  cut  to 
pieces,  the  rest  escaped  once  more  to  their  ships, 
and  now  gave  up  the  capital  as  lost.  All  this  oc- 
curred in  the  nineteenth  year  of  the  Hegira,  and 
the  year  640  of  the  Christian  era. 

On  this  second  capture  of  the  city  by  force  of 
arms,  and  without  capitulation,  the  troops  were 
clamorous  to  be  permitted  to  plunder.  Amru 
again  checked  their  rapacity,  and  commanded 
that  all  persons  and  property  in  the  place  should 
remain  inviolate,  until  the  will  of  the  Caliph 
could  be  known.  So  perfect  was  his  command 
over  his  troops,  that  not  the  most  trivial  article 
was  taken.  His  letter  to  the  Caliph  shows  what 
must  have  been  the  population  and  splendor  of 
Alexandria,  and  the  luxury  and  effeminacy  of  its 
inhabitants,  at  the  time  of  the  Moslem  conquest. 
It  states  the  city  to  have  contained  four  thousand 
palaces,  five  thousand  baths,  four  hundred  the- 
atres and  places  of  amusement,  twelve  thousand 
gardeners  which  supply  it  with  vegetables,  and 
forty  thousand  tributary  Jews.  It  was  impossible, 
he  said,  to  do  justice  to  its  riches  and  magnifi- 
cence. He  had  hitherto  held  it  sacred  from  plun- 
der, but  his  troops,  having  won  it  by  force  of  arms, 
considered  themselves  entitled  to  the  spoils  of 
victory. 

The  Caliph  Omar,  in  reply,  expressed  a  high 
sense  of  his  important  services,  but  reproved  him 
for  even  mentioning  the  desire  of  the  soldiery  to 
plunder  so  rich  a  city,  one  of  the  greatest  empori- 
ums of  the  East.  He  charged  him,  therefore,  most 
rigidly  to  watch  over  the  rapacious  propensities  of 
his  men  ;  to  prevent  all  pillage,  violence,  and 
waste  ;  to  collect  and  make  out  an  account  of  all 
moneys,  jewels,  household  furniture,  and  every- 
thing else  that  was  valuable,  to  be  appropriated 
toward  defraying  the  expenses  of  this  war  of  the 
faith.  He  ordered  the  tribute  also,  collected  in 
the  conquered  country,  to  be  treasured  up  at 
Alexandria,  for  the  supplies  of  the  Moslem  troops. 

The  surrender  of  all  Egypt  followed  the  capture 
of  its  capital.  A  tribute  of  two  ducats  was  laid 
on  every  male  of  mature  age,  besides  a  tax  on  all 
lands  in  proportion  to  their  value,  and  the  revenue 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


121 


which  resulted  to  the  Caliph  is  estimated  at  twelve 
millions  of  ducats. 

We  have  shown  that  Amru  was  a  poet  in  his 
youth  ;  and  throughout  all  his  campaigns  he  mani- 
fested an  intelligent  and  inquiring  spirit,  if  not 
more  highly  informed,  at  least  more  liberal  and 
extended  in  its  views  than  was  usual  among  the 
early  Moslem  conquerors.  He  delighted,  in  his 
hours  of  leisure,  to  converse  with  learned  men, 
and  acquire  through  their  means  such  knowledge 
as  had  been  denied  to  him  by  the  deficiency  ol  his 
education.  Such  a  companion  he  found  at  Alex- 
andria in  a  native  of  the  place,  a  Christian  of  the 
sect  of  the  Jacobites,  eminent  for  his  philological 
researches,  his  commentaries  on  Moses  and  Aris- 
totle, and  his  laborious  treatises  of  various  kinds, 
surnamed  Philoponus  from  his  love  of  study,  but 
commonly  known  by  the  name  of  John  the  Gram- 
marian. An  intimacy  soon  arose  between  the 
Arab  conqueror  and  the  Christian  philologist  ;  an 
intimacy  honorable  to  Amru,  but  destined  to  be 
lamentable  in  its  result  to  the  cause  of  letters.  In 
an  evil  hour,  John  the  Grammarian,  being  encour- 
aged by  the  favor  shown  him  by  the  Arab  gen- 
eral, revealed  to  him  a  treasure  hitherto  unno- 
ticed, or  rather  unvalued,  by  the  Moslem  con- 
querors. This  was  a  vast  collection  of  books  or 
manuscripts,  since  renowned  in  history  as  the 
ALEXANDRIAN  LIBRARY.  Perceiving  that  in  tak- 
ing an  account  of  everything  valuable  in  the  city, 
and  sealing  up  all  its  treasures,  Amru  had  taken 
no  notice  of  the  books,  John  solicited  that  they 
might  be  given  to  him.  Unfortunately,  the 
learned  zeal  of  the  Grammarian  gave  a  conse- 
quence to  the  books  in  the  eyes  of  Amru,  and  made 
him  scrupulous  of  giving  them  away  without  per- 
mission of  the  Caliph.  He  forthwith  wrote  to 
Omar,  stating  the  merits  of  John,  and  requesting 
to  know  whether  the  books  might  be  given  to 
him.  The  reply  of  Omar  was  laconic,  but  fatal. 
"  The  contents  of  those  books,"  said  he,  "  are  in 
conformity  with  the  Koran,  or  they  are  not.  If 
they  are,  the  Koran  is  sufficient  without  them  ;  if 
they  are  not,  they  are  pernicious.  Let  them, 
therefore,  be  destroyed." 

Amru,  it  is  said,  obeyed  the  order  punctually. 
The  books  and  manuscripts  were  distributed  as 
fuel  among  the  five  thousand  baths  of  the  city  ; 
but  so  numerous  were  they  that  it  took  six 
months  to  consume  them.  This  act  of  barbarism, 
recorded  by  Abulpharagius,  is  considered  some- 
what doubtful  by  Gibbon,  in  consequence  of  its  not 
being  mentioned  by  two  of  the  most  ancient 
chroniclers,  Elmacin  in  his  Saracenic  history,  and 
Eutychius  in  his  annals,  the  latter  of  whom  was 
patriarch  of  Alexandria,  and  has  detailed  the 
conquest  of  that  city.  It  is  inconsistent,  too,  with 
the  character  of  Amru,  as  a  poet  and  a  man  of 
superior  intelligence  ;  and  it  has  recently  been 
reported,  we  know  not  on  what  authority,  that 
many  of  the  literary  treasures  thus  said  to  have 
been  destroyed,  do  actually  exist  in  Constantino- 
ple. Their  destruction,  however,  is  generally 
credited  and  deeply  deplored  by  historians. 
Amru,  as  a  man  of  genius  and  intelligence,  may 
have  grieved  at  the  order  of  the  Caliph  ;  while, 
as  a  loyal  subject  and  faithful  soldier,  he  felt 
bound  to  obey  it.* 

*  The  Alexandrian  Library  was  formed  by  Ptolemy 
Soter,  and  placed  in  a  building  called  the  Bruchion. 
It  was  augmented  in  successive  reigns  to  400,000 
volumes,  and  an  additional  300,000  volumes  were 
placed  in  a  temple  called  the  Serapeon.  The  Bruchi- 
on, with  the  books  it  contained,  was  burnt  in  the  war 


The  fall  of  Alexandria  decided  the  fate  of 
Egypt  and  likewise  that  of  the  emperor  Heraclius. 
He  was  already  afflicted  with  a  dropsy,  and  took 
the  loss  of  his  Syrian,  and  now  that  of  his  Egyp- 
tian dominions,  so  much  to  heart,  that  he  under- 
went a  paroxysm,  which  ended  in  his  death, 
about  seven  weeks  after  the  loss  of  his  Egyptian 
capital.  He  was  succeeded  by  his  son  Constan- 
tine. 

While  Amru  was  successfully  extending  his 
conquests,  a  great  dearth  and  famine  fell  upon  all 
Arabia,  insomuch  that  the  Caliph  Omar  had  to 
call  upon  him  for  supplies  from  the  fertile  plains 
of  Egypt  ;  whereupon  Amru  dispatched  such  a 
train  of  camels  laden  with  grain,  that  it  is  said, 
when  the  first  of  the  line  had  reached  the  city  of 
Medina,  the  last  had  not  yet  left  the  land  of  Egypt. 
But  this  mode  of  conveyance  proving  too  tardy, 
at  the  command  of  the  Caliph  he  dug  a  canal  of 
communication  from  the  Nile  to  the  Red  Sea,  a 
distance  of  eighty  miles,  by  which  provisions 
might  be  conveyed  to  the  Arabian  shores.  This 
canal  had  been  commenced  by  Trajan,  the  Ro- 
man emperor. 

The  able  and  indefatigable  Amru  went  on  in 
this  manner,  executing  the  commands  and  ful- 
filling the  wishes  of  the  Caliph,  and  governed  the 
country  he  had  conquered  with  such  sagacity 
and  justice  that  he  rendered  himself  one  of  the 
most  worthily  renowned  among  the  Moslem  gen- 
erals. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ENTERPRISES  OF  THE  MOSLEMS  IN  PERSIA — DE- 
FENCE OF  THE  KINGDOM  BY  QUEEN  ARZEMIA 
— BATTLE  OF  THE  BRIDGE. 

FOR  the  sake  of  perspicuity,  we  have  recorded 
the  Moslem  conquests  in  Syria  and  Egypt  in  a 
continued  narrative,  without  pausing  to  notice 
events  which  were  occurring  at  the  same  time  in 
other  quarters  ;  we  now  recede  several  years  to 
take  up  the  course  of  affairs  in  Persia,  from  the 
time  that  Khalecl,  in  the  thirteenth  year  of  the  He- 
gira,  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  Abu  Beker,  left 
his  victorious  army  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphra- 
tes, to  take  the  general  command  in  Syria.  The 
victories  of  Khaled  had  doubtless  been  owing  in 
part  to  the  distracted  state  of  the  Persian  empire. 
In  the  course  of  an  inconsiderable  number  of 
years,  the  proud  sceptre  of  the  Khosrus  had  pass- 
ed from  hand  to  hand  ;  Khosru  II.,  surnamed 
Parviz,  having  been  repeatedly  defeated  by  He- 
raclius, was  deposed  in  628,  by  a  party  of  his  no- 
bles, headed  by  his  own  son  Siroes  (or  Shiruyah), 
and  was  put  to  death  by  the  latter  in  a  vault  under 
the  palace,  among  the  treasures  he  had  amassed. 
To  secure  possession  of  the  throne,  Siroes  follow- 
ed up  the  parricide  by  the  massacre  of  seventeen 
of  his  brothers.  It  was  not  ambition  alone  that 
instigated  these  crimes.  He  was  enamored  of  a 
sultana  in  the  harem  of  his  father,  the  matchless 
Shireen.  While  yet  reeking  with  his  lather's 


of  Caesar,  but  the  Serapeon  was  preserved.  Cleo- 
patra, it  is  said,  added  to  it  the  library  of  Pergamas, 
given  to  her  by  Marc  Antony,  consisting  of  200,000 
volumes.  It  sustained  repeated  injuries  during  vari- 
ous subsequent  revolutions,  but  was  always  restored 
to  its  ancient  splendor,  and  numerous  additions  made 
to  it.  Such  was  its  state  at  the  capture  of  Alexandria 
by  the  Moslems. 


122 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


blood  he  declared  his  passion  to  her.  She  recoil- 
ed trom  him  with  horror,  and  when  he  would 
have  used  force,  gave  herself  instant  death  to  es- 
cape from  his  embraces.  The  disappointment  of 
his  passion,  the  upbraidings  of  his  sisters  for  the 
murders  of  their  father  and  their  brothers,  and 
the  stings  of  his  own  conscience,  threw  Siroes 
into  a  moody  melancholy,  and  either  caused,  or 
added  acuteness  to  a  malady,  of  which  he  died  in 
the  course  of  eight  months. 

His  infant  son  Ardisheer  was  placed  on  the 
throne  about  the  end  of  628,  but  was  pres- 
ently slain,  and  the  throne  usurped  by  Sheri- 
yar,  a  Persian  noble,  who  was  himself  killed 
after  a  very  short  reign.  Turan-Docht,  a  daugh- 
ter of  Khosru  Parviz,  was  now  crowned  and 
reigned  eighteen  months,  when  she  was  set 
aside  by  her  cousin  Shah  Shenandeh,  who  was 
himself  deposed  by  the  nobles,  and  Arzemi-Docht* 
or  Arzemia,  as  the  name  is  commonly  given, 
another  daughter  of  Khosru  Parviz,  was  placed 
on  the  throne  in  the  year  632  of  the  Christian  era. 
The  Persian  seat  of  government,  which  had  been 
often  changed,  was  at  this  time  held  in  the  mag- 
nificent city  of  Madain,  or  Madayn,  on  the  Tigris, 
where  was  the  ancient  Ctesiphon. 

Arzemia  was  distinguished  alike  for  masculine 
talents  and  feminine  beauty  ;  she  had  been  care- 
fully instructed  under  her  father  Khosru,  and  had 
acquired  sad  experience,  during  the  series  of  con- 
spiracies and  assassinations  which  had  beset  the 
throne  for  the  last  four  years.  Rejecting  from 
her  council  the  very  traitors  who  had  placed  the 
crown  upon  her  head,  she  undertook  to  wield  the 
sceptre  without  the  aid  of  a  vizir,  thereby  giving 
mortal  offence  to  the  most  powerful  nobles  of  her 
realm.  She  was  soon  called  upon  to  exert  her 
masculine  spirit  by  the  continued  aggressions  of 
the  Moslems. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that  the  Moslem  army 
on  the  Euphrates,  at  the  departure  of  Khaled,  was 
left  under  the  command  of  Mosenna  Ibn  Haris 
(or  Muthenna  Ibn  Harith,  as  the  name  is  some- 
times rendered).  On  the  accession  of  Omar  to 
the  Caliphat,  he  appointed  Mosenna  emir  or  gov- 
ernor of  Sewad,  the  country  recently  conquered 
by  Khaled,  lying  about  the  lower  part  of  the  Eu- 
phrates and  the  Tigris,  forming  a  portion  of  the 
Persian  province  of  Irak-Arabi.  This  was  in 
compliance  with  the  wishes  and  intentions  of  Abu 
Beker  ;  though  Omar  does  not  appear  to  have 
had  great  confidence  in  the  military  talents  of  Mo- 
senna, the  career  of  conquest  having  languished 
in  his  hands  since  the  departure  of  Khaled.  He 
accordingly  sent  Abu  Obeidah  Sakfi,  one  of  the 
most  important  disciples  of  the  prophet,  at  the 
head  of  a  thousand  chosen  men,  to  reinforce  the 
army  under  Mosenna,  and  to  take  the  lead  in  mil- 
itary enterprises. t  He  was  accompanied  by  Sabit 
Ibn  Kais,  one  of  the  veterans  of  the  battle  of 
Beder. 

The  Persian  queen,  hearing  of  the  advance  of 
the  Moslem  army  thus  reinforced,  sent  an  able 
general,  Rustam  Ibn  Ferukh-Zad  (or  Feruchsad), 
with  thirty  thousand  more,  to  repel  them.  Rus- 
tam halted  on  the  confines  of  Irak,  and  sent  for- 
ward strong  detachments  under  a  general  named 
Dschaban,  and  a  Persian  prince  named  Narsi  (or 


*  Docht  or  Dokht.  diminutive  of  dukhter,  signifies 
the  unmarried  or  maiden  state. 

f  This  Abu  Obeidah  has  sometimes  been  confound- 
ed with  the  general  of  the  same  name,  who  command- 
ed in  Syria  ;  the  latter,  however,  was  Abu  Obeidah 
Ibn  Aljerah  (the  son  of  Aljerah). 


Narsis).  These  were  so  roughly  handled  by  the 
Moslems  that  Rustam  found  it  necessary  to 
hasten  with  his  main  force  to  their  assistance.  He 
arrived  too  late  ;  they  had  been  severally  defeated 
and  put  to  flight,  and  the  whole  country  of  Sewad 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Moslems. 

Queen  Arzemia,  still  more  aroused  to  the  dan- 
ger of  her  kingdom,  sent  Rustam  a  reinforcement 
led  by  Behman  Dschadu,  surnamed  the  Veiled, 
from  the  shaggy  eyebrows  which  overshadowed 
his  visage.  He  brought  with  him  three  thousand 
men  and  thirty  elephants.  These  animals,  of  lit- 
tle real  utility  in  warfare,  were  formidable  in  the 
eyes  of  those  unaccustomed  to  them,  and  were  in- 
tended to  strike  terror  into  the  Arabian  troops. 
One  of  them  was  the  white  elephant  Mahmoud, 
famous  for  having  been  ridden  by  Abraha,  the 
Ethiopian  king,  in  foregone  times,  when  he  in- 
vaded Mecca,  and  assailed  the  Caaba.  It  was 
considered  a  harbinger  of  victory,  all  the  enter- 
prises in  which  it  had  been  employed  having 
proved  successful. 

With  Behman,  the  heavy-browed,  came  also 
the  standard  of  Kaoh,  the  sacred  standard.  It 
was  originally  the  leathern  apron  of  the  black- 
smith Kaoh,  which  he  reared  as  a  banner  when 
he  roused  the  people,  and  delivered  Persia  from 
the  tyranny  of  Sohak.  It  had  been  enlarged  from 
time  to  time,  with  costly  silk,  embroidered  with 
gold,  until  it  was  twenty-two  feet  long  and  fifteen 
broad  ;  and  was  decorated  with  gems  of  inestima- 
ble value.  With  this  standard  the  fate  of  the 
kingdom  was  believed,  by  superstitious  Persians, 
to  be  connected. 

The  Moslem  forces,  even  with  the  reinforce- 
ment brought  by  Abu  Obeidah  Sakfi,  did  not  ex- 
ceed nine  thousand  in  number  ;  the  Persians,  en- 
camped near  the  ruins  of  Babylon,  were  vastly 
superior.  It  was  the  counsel  of  Mosenna  and  the 
veteran  Sabit,  that  they  should  fall  back  into  the 
deserts,  and  remain  encamped  there  until  rein- 
forcements could  be  obtained  from  the  Caliph. 
Abu  Obeidah,  however,  was  for  a  totally  different 
course.  He  undervalued  the  prowess  of  the  Per- 
sians ;  he  had  heard  Mosenna  censured  for  want 
of  enterprise,  and  Khaled  extolled  to  the  skies  for 
his  daring  achievements  in  this  quarter.  He  was 
determined  to  emulate  them,  to  cross  the  Euphra- 
tes and  attack  the  Persians  in  their  encampment. 
In  vain  Mosenna  and  Sabit  remonstrated.  He 
caused  a  bridge  of  boats  to  be  thrown  across  the 
Euphrates,  and  led  the  way  to  the  opposite  bank. 
His  troops  did  not  follow  with  their  usual  alac- 
rity, for  they  felt  the  rashness  of  the  enterprise. 
While  they  were  yet  crossing  the  bridge,  they 
were  severely  galled  by  a  body  of  archers,  de- 
tached in  the  advance  by  Rustam  ;  and  were  met 
at  the  head  of  the  bridge  by  that  warrior  with  his 
vanguard  of  cavalry. 

The  conflict  was  severe.  The  banner  of  Islam 
passed  from  hand  to  hand  of  seven  brave  cham- 
pions, as  one  after  another  fell  in  its  defence. 
The  Persians  were  beaten  back,  but  now  arrived 
the  main  body  of  the  army  with  the  thirty  ele- 
phants. Abu  Obeidah  breasted  fearlessly  the 
storm  of  war  which  he  had  so  rashly  provoked. 
He  called  to  his  men  not  to  fear  the  elephants,  but 
to  strike  at  their  trunks.  He  himself  severed, 
with  a  blow  of  his  scimetar,  the  trunk  of  the  fa- 
mous white  elephant,  but  in  so  doing  his  foot  slip- 
ped, he  fell  to  the  earth,  and  was  trampled  to  death 
by  the  enraged  animal. 

The  Moslems,  disheartened  by  his  loss,  and 
overwhelmed  by  numbers,  endeavored  to  regain 
the  bridge.  The  enemy  had  thrown  combustibles 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


123 


into  the  boats  on  which  it  was  constructed,  and 
had  set  taem  on  fire.  Some  of  the  troops  were 
driven  into  the  water  and  perished  there  ;  the 
main  body  retreated  along  the  river,  protected  in 
the  rear  by  Mosenna,  who  now  displayed  the  skill 
of  an  able  general,  and  kept  the  enemy  at  bay  until 
a  slight  bridge  could  be  hastily  thrown  across  an- 
other part  of  the  river.  He  was  the  last  to  cross 
the  bridge,  and  caused  it  to  be  broken  behind 
him. 

Four  thousand  Moslems  were  either  slain  or 
drowned  in  this  rash  affair  ;  two  thousand  fled  to 
Medina,  and  about  three  thousand  remained  with 
Mosenna,  who  encamped  and  intrenched  them, 
and  sent  a  fleet  courier  to  the  Caliph,  entreating 
instant  aid.  Nothing  saved  this  remnant  of  the 
army  from  utter  destruction  but  a  dissension 
which  took  place  between  the  Persian  command- 
ers, who,  instead  of  following  up  their  victory, 
returned  to  Madayn,  the  Persian  capital. 

This  was  the  severest  and  almost  the  only 
severe  check  that  Moslem  audacity  had  for  a  long 
time  experienced.  It  took  place  in  the  I3th  year 
of  the  Hegira,  and  the  year  634  of  the  Christian 
era,  and  was  long  and  ruefully  remembered  by 
the  Arabs  as  the  battle  of  "  El  Jisir,"  or  The  Bat- 
tle of  the  Bridge. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

MOSENNA  IBN  HARIS  RAVAGES  THE  COUNTRY 
ALONG  THE  EUPHRATES— DEATH  OF  ARZEMIA 
— YEZDEGIRD  III.  RAISED  TO  THE  THRONE — 
SAAD  IBN  ABU  WAKKA"S  GIVEN  THE  GENERAL 
COMMAND — DEATH  OF  MOSENNA — EMBASSY  TO 
YEZDEGIRD — ITS  RECEPTION. 

HAVING  received  moderate  reinforcements,  Mo- 
senna again  took  the  field  in  Arab  style,  hovering 
about  the  confines  of  Babylonia,  and  sending  de- 
tachments in  different  directions  to  plunder  and 
lay  waste  the  country  bordering  on  the  Euphra- 
tes. It  was  an  instance  of  the  vicissitude  of  hu- 
man affairs,  and  the  instability  of  earthly  gran- 
deur, that  this  proud  region,  which  once  held  the 
world  in  awe,  should  be  thus  marauded  and  in- 
sulted by  a  handful  of  predatory  Arabs. 

To  check  their  ravages,  Queen  Arzemia  sent 
out  a  general  named  Mahran,  with  twelve  thou- 
sand chosen  cavalry.  Mosenna,  hearing  of  their 
approach,  called  in  his  plundering  parties  and 
prepared  for  battle.  The  two  hosts  met  near 
Hirah,  on  the  borders  of  the  desert.  Mosenna, 
who  in  the  battle  of  the  bridge  had  been  the  last 
man  to  retire,  was  now  the  foremost  man  to 
charge.  In  the  fury  of  the  fight  he  made  his  way, 
almost  alone,  into  the  heart  of  the  Persian  army, 
and  \vith  difficulty  fought  his  way  out  again  and 
back  to  his  own  men.  The  Persians,  as  we  have 
noted,  were  chosen  troops,  and  fought  with  un- 
usual spirit.  The  Moslems,  in  some  parts  of  the 
field,  began  to  give  way.  Mosenna  galloped  up 
and  threw  himself  before  them  ;  he  expostulated, 
he  threatened,  he  tore  his  beard  in  the  agony  of 
his  feelings  ;  he  succeeded  in  leading  them  back 
to  the  fight,  which  endured  from  noon  until  sun- 
set, and  still  continued  doubtful.  At  the  close 
of  the  day  Mosenna  encountered  Mahran  hand  to 
hand,  in  the  midst  of  his  guards,  and  received  a 
powerful  blow,  which  might  have  proved  fatal 
but  for  his  armor.  In  return  he  smote  the  Persian 
commander  with  hisscimetar  just  where  the  neck 


joins  to  the  shoulder,  and  laid  him  dead.  The 
Persians,  seeing  their  leader  fall,  took  to  flight, 
nor  stopped  until  they  reached  Madayn. 

The  Moslems  next  made  a  plundering  expedi- 
tion to  Bagdad,  at  that  time  a  mere  village,  but 
noted  lor  a  great  fair,  the  resort  of  merchants 
from  various  parts  of  the  East.  An  Arab  detach- 
ment pounced  upon  it  at  the  time  of  the  fair,  and 
carried  off  many  captives  and  immense  booty. 

The  tidings  of  the  defeat  of  Mahran  and  the 
plundering  of  the  fair  spread  consternation  in  the 
Persian  capital.  The  nobles  and  priests  who  had 
hitherto  stood  in  awe  of  the  spirit  of  the  queen, 
now  raised  a  tumult.  "  These  are  the  fruits," 
said  they,  "  of  having  a  woman  to  reign  over  us." 

The  fate  of  the  beautiful  Arzemia  was  hastened 
by  private  revenge.  Faruch-Zad,  one  of  the  most 
powerful  of  her  nobles,  and  governor  ot  Khoras- 
san,  incited  by  love  and  ambition,  had  aspired  to 
her  hand.  At  first,  it  is  said,  she  appeared  to  fa- 
vor his  addresses,  fearing  to  provoke  his  enmity, 
but  afterward  slighted  them  ;  whereupon  he  en- 
tered the  palace  by  night,  and  attempted  to  get 
possession  of  her  person.  Hib  attempt  failed, 
and,  by  her  command,  he  received  instant  death 
at  the  hands  of  her  guards,  accompanied  by  some 
indignities. 

His  son,  Rustam,  who  had  been  left  by  him  in 
the  government  of  Khorassan,  hastened,  at  the 
head  of  an  armed  force,  to  avenge  his  death.  He 
arrived  in  the  height  of  the  public  discontent  ; 
entered  the  city  without  opposition,  stormed  the 
palace,  captured  the  young  and  beautiful  queen, 
subjected  her  to  degrading  outrages,  and  put 
her  to  death  in  the  most  cruel  manner.  She  was 
the  sixth  of  the  usurping  sovereigns,  and  had  not 
yet  reigned  a  year. 

A  remaining  son  of  Khosru  Parviz  was  now 
brought  forward  and  placed  on  the  slippery 
throne,  but  was  poisoned  within  forty  days,  some 
say  by  his  courtiers,  others  by  a  slave. 

The  priests  and  nobles  now  elevated  a  youth 
about  fifteen  years  of  age  to  this  perilous  dignity. 
He  was  a  grandson  of  Khosru  Parviz,  and  had 
been  secluded,  during  the  late  period  of  anarchy 
and  assassination,  in  the  city  of  Istakar,  the  an- 
cient Persepolis.  He  is  known  by  the  name  of 
Yezdegird  III.,  though  some  historians  call  him 
Hermisdas  IV.,  from  his  family,  instead  of  his 
personal  appellation.  He  was  of  a  good  natural 
disposition,  but  weak  and  irresolute,  and  apt, 
from  his  youth  and  inexperience,  to  become  a 
passive  instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  faction 
which  had  placed  him  on  the  throne. 

One  of  the  first  measures  of  the  new  reign  was 
to  assemble  a  powerful  army  and  place  it  under 
the  command  of  Rustam,  the  same  general  who 
had  so  signally  revenged  the  death  ot  his  father. 
It  was  determined,  by  a  signal  blow,  to  sweep  the 
Arabian  marauders  from  the  land. 

Omar,  on  his  part,  hearing  of  the  changes  and 
warlike  preparations  in  the  Persian  capital,  made 
a  hasty  levy  of  troops,  and  would  have  marched 
in  person  to  carry  the  war  into  the  heart  ot  Per- 
sia. It  was  with  great  difficulty  he  was  dissuaded 
from  this  plan  by  his  discreet  counsellors,  Othman 
and  AH,  and  induced  to  send  in  his  place  Saad 
Ibn  Abu  Wakkas.  This  was  a  zealous  soldier  of 
the  faith  who  used  to  boast  that  he  was  the  first 
who  had  shed  the  blood  of  the  unbelieving,  and, 
moreover,  that  the  prophet,  in  the  first  holy  war, 
had  intrusted  to  him  the  care  of  his  household 
during  his  absence,  saying,  "  To  you,  oh  Saad, 
who  are  to  me  as  my  father  and  my  mother,  I 
confide  my  family."  To  have  been  a  favored  and 


124 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


confidential  companion  of  the  prophet  was  fast 
growing  to  be  a  title  of  great  distinction  among 
the  faithful. 

Saad  was  invested  with  the  general  command 
of  the  forces  in  Persia  ;  and  Mosenna,  though  his 
recent  good  conduct  and  signal  success  entitled 
him  to  the  highest  consideration,  was  ordered  to 
serve  under  him. 

Saad  set  out  from  Medina  with  an  army  of  but  six 
or  seven  thousand  men  ;  among  these,  however, 
were  one  thousand  well-tried  soldiers  who  had  fol- 
lowed the  prophet  in  his  campaigns,  and  one  hun- 
dred of  the  veterans  of  Beder.  They  were  led  on 
also  by  some  of  the  most  famous  champions  of  the 
faith.  The  army  was  joined  on  its  march  by  recruits 
from  all  quarters,  so  that  by  the  time  it  joined 
the  troops  under  Mosenna  it  amounted  to  upward 
of  thirty  thousand  men. 

Mosenna  died  three  days  after  the  arrival  of 
his  successor  in  the  camp  ;  the  cause  and  nature 
of  his  death  are  not  mentioned.  He  left  behind 
him  a  good  name,  and  a  wile  remarkable  for  her 
beauty.  The  widow  was  easily  brought  to  listen 
to  the  addresses  of  Saad,  who  thus  succeeded  to 
Mosenna  in  his  matrimonial  as  well  as  his  mili- 
tary capacity. 

The  Persian  force  under  Rustam  lay  encamp- 
ed at  Kadesia  (or  Khadesiyah),  on  the  frontier  of 
Sawad  or  Irak-Arabi,  and  was  vastly  superior  in 
numbers  to  the  Moslems.  Saad  sent  expresses  to 
the  Caliph  entreating  reinforcements.  He  was 
promised  them,  but  exhorted  in  the  mean  time  to 
doubt  nothing  ;  never  to  regard  the  number  of 
the  foe,  but  to  think  always  that  he  was  fighting 
under  the  eye  of  the  Caliph.  He  was  instructed, 
however,  before  commencing  hostilities,  to  send 
a  delegation  to  Yezdegird  inviting  him  to  em- 
brace the  faith. 

Saad.  accordingly  sent  several  of  his  most  dis- 
creet and  veteran,  officers  on  this  mission.  They 
repaired  to  the  magnificent  city  of  Madayn,  and 
were  ushered  through  the  sumptuous  halli  and 
saloons  of  the  palace  of  the  Khosrus,  crowded 
with  guards  and  attendants  all  richly  arrayed, 
into  the  presence  of  the  youthful  monarch,  whom 
they  found  seated  in  state  on  a  throne,  supported 
by  silver  columns,  and  surrounded  by  the  daz- 
zling splendor  of  an  oriental  court. 

The  appearance  of  the  Moslem  envoys,  attired 
in  simple  Arab  style,  in  the  striped  garments  of 
Yemen,  amidst  the  gorgeous  throng  of  nobles  ar- 
rayed in  jewels  and  embroidery,  was  but  little 
calculated  to  inspire  deference  in  a  young  and  in- 
considerate prince,  brought  up  in  pomp  and  lux- 
ury, and  accustomed  to  consider  dignity  insepara- 
ble from  splendor.  He  had  no  doubt,  also,  been 
schooled  for  the  interview  by  his  crafty  counsel- 
lors. 

The  audience  opened  by  a  haughty  demand  on 
his  part,  through  his  interpreter,  as  to  the  object 
of  their  embassy.  Upon  this,  one  of  their  number, 
Na'man  Ibn  Muskry,  set  forth  the  divine  mission 
of  the  prophet  and  his  dying  command  to  enforce 
his  religion  by  the  sword,  leaving  no  peaceable 
alternative  to  unbelievers  but  conversion  or  trib- 
ute. He  concluded  by  inviting  the  king  to  em- 
brace the  faith  ;  if  not,  to  consent  to  become  a 
tributary  ;  if  he  should  refuse  both,  to  prepare  for 
battle. 

Yezdegird  restrained  his  indignation,  and  an- 
swered in  words  which  had  probably  been  pre- 
pared for  him.  "You  Arabs,"  said  he,  "have 
hitherto  been  known  to  us  by  report,  as  wander- 
ers of  the  desert  ;  your  food  dates,  and  sometimes 
lizards  and  serpents  ;  your  drink  brackish  water  ; 


your  garments  coarse  hair-cloth.  Some  of  you 
who  by  chance  have  wandered  into  our  realms 
have  found  sweet  water,  savory  food,  and  soft 
raiment.  They  have  carried  back  word  of  the 
same  to  their  brethren  in  the  desert,  and  now  you 
come  in  swarms  to  rob  us  of  our  goods  and  our 
very  land.  Ye  are  like  the  starving  fox,  to  whom 
the  husbandman  afforded  shelter  in  his  vineyard, 
and  who  in  return  brought  a  troop  of  his  brethren 
to  devour  his  grapes.  Receive  from  my  generos- 
ity whatever  your  wants  require  ;  load  your  cam- 
els with  corn  and  dates,  and  depart  in  peace  to 
your  native  land  ;  but  if  you  tarry  in  Persia,  be- 
ware the  fate  of  the  fox  who  was  slain  by  the  hus- 
bandman." 

The  most  aged  of  the  Arab  envoys,  the  Sheikh 
Mukair  Ibn  Zarrarah,  replied  with  great  gravity 
and  decorum,  and  an  unaltered  countenance. 
"  Oh  king  !  all  thou  hast  said  of  the  Arabs  is  most 
true.  The  green  lizard  of  the  desert  was  their 
sometime  food  ;  the  brackish  water  of  wells  their 
drink  ;  their  garments  were  of  hair-cloth,  and 
they  buried  their  infant  daughters  to  restrain  the 
increase  of  their  tribes.  All  this  was  in  the  days 
of  ignorance.  They  knew  not  good  from  evil. 
They  were  guilty,  and  they  suffered.  But  Allah 
in  his  rnercy  sent  his  apostle  Mahomet,  and  his 
sacred  Koran  among  them.  He  rendered  them 
wise  and  valiant.  He  commanded  them  to  war 
with  infidels  until  all  should  be  converted  to  the 
true  faith.  On  his  behest  we  come.  All  we  de- 
mand of  thee  is  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  no 
God  but  God,  and  that  Mahomet  is  his  apostle, 
and  to  pay  from  thy  income  the  customary  contri- 
bution of  the  Zacat,  paid  by  all  true  believers,  in 
charity  to  the  poor,  and  for  the  support  of  the  fam- 
ily of  the  prophet.  Do  this,  and  not  a  Moslem 
shall  enter  the  Persian  dominions  without  thv 
leave  ;  but  if  thou  refuse  it,  and  refuse  to  pay  the 
tribute  exacted  from  all  unbelievers,  prepare  for 
the  subjugation  of  the  sword." 

The  forbearance  of  Yezdegird  was  at  an  end. 
"Were  it  not  unworthy  of  a  great  Padischah," 
said  he,  "  to  put  ambassadors  to  death,  the  sword 
should  be  the  only  tongue  with  which  I  would  re- 
ply to  your  insolence.  Away  !  ye  robbers  of  the 
lands  of  others  !  take  with  ye  a  portion  of  the  Per- 
sian soil  ye  crave."  So  saying,  he  caused  sacks 
of  earth  to  be  bound  upon  their  shoulders  ;  to  be 
delivered  by  them  to  their  chiefs  as  symbols  ol  the 
graves  they  would  be  sure  to  find  at  Kadesia. 

When  beyond  the  limits  of  the  city,  the  envoys 
transferred  the  sacks  of  earth  to  the  backs  of  their 
camels,  and  returned  with  them  to  Saad  Ibn  Abu 
Wakkas,  shrewdly  interpreting  into  a  good  omen 
what  had  been  intended  by  the  Persian  monarch 
as  a  scornful  taunt.  "  Earth,"  said  they,  "  is  the 
emblem  of  empire.  As  surely,  oh  Saad,  as  we 
deliver  thee  these  sacks  of  earth,  so  surely  will 
Allah  deliver  the  empire  of  Persia  into  the  hands 
of  true  believers." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF   KADESIA. 

THE  hostile  armies  came  in  presence  of  each 
other  on  the  plains  of  Kadeisa  (or  Kadeslyah),  ad- 
jacent to  a  canal  derived  from  the  Euphrates.  The 
huge  mass  of  the  Persian  army  would  have  been 
sufficient  to  bear  down  the  inferior  number  of  the 
Moslems,  had  it  possessed  the  Grecian  or  Roman 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


125 


discipline  ;  but  it  was  a  tumultuous  multitude, 
unwieldy  from  its'  military  pomp,  and  encumber- 
ed by  its  splendid  trappings.  The  Arabs,  on  the 
contrary,  were  veteran  skirmishers  of  the  desert  ; 
light  and  hardy  horsemen  ;  dexterous  with  the 
bow  and  lance,  and  skilled  to  wheel  and  retreat, 
and  to  return  again  to  the  attack.  Many  individ- 
ual acts  of  prowess  took  place  between  cham- 
pions of  either  army,  who  dared  each  other  to 
single  combat  in  front  of  the  hosts  when  drawn 
out  in  battle  array.  The  costly  armor  of  the  Per- 
sians, wrought  with  gold,  and  their  belts  or  gir- 
dles studded  with  gems,  made  them  rich  prizes  to 
their  Moslem  victors  ;  while  the  Persians,  if  vic- 
torious, gained  nothing  from  the  rudely  clad  war- 
riors of  the  desert  but  honor  and  hard  blows  . 

Saad  Ibn  Abu  Wakkas  was  in  an  unfortunate 
plight  for  a  leader  of  an  army  on  such  a  moment- 
ous occasion.  He  was  grievously  afflicted  with 
boils  in  his  reins,  so  that  he  sat  on  his  horse  with 
extreme  difficulty.  Still  he  animated  his  troops  by 
his  presence,  and  gave  the  tekbir  or  battle-cry — 
Allah  Achbar  ! 

The  Persian  force  came  on  with  great  shouts, 
their  elephants  in  the  van.  The  horses  of  the 
Moslem  cavalry  recoiled  at  sight  of  the  latter,  and 
became  unmanageable.  A  great  number  of  the 
horsemen  dismounted,  attacked  the  unwieldy 
animals  with  their  swords,  and  drove  them  back 
upon  their  own  host.  Still  the  day  went  hard 
with  the  Moslems  ;  their  force  being  so  inferior, 
and  their  general  unable  to  take  the  lead  and 
mingle  in  the  battle.  The  arrival  of  a  reinforce- 
ment from  Syria  put  them  in  new  heart,  and  they 
fought  on  until  the  approach  of  night,  when  both 
parties  desisted  and  drew  off  to  their  encamp- 
ments. Thus  ended  the  first  day's  fight,  which  the 
Persians  called  the  battle  of  Armath  ;  but  the 
Moslems,  The  Day  of  Succor,  from  the  timely  ar- 
rival of  reinforcements. 

On  the  following  morning  the  armies  drew  out 
again  in  battle  array,  but  no  general  conflict 
took  place.  Saad  was  unable  to  mount  his  horse 
and  lead  his  troops  into  action,  and  the  Persians, 
aware  of  the  reinforcements  received  by  the  Mos- 
lems, were  not  disposed  to  provoke  a  battle.  The 
day  passed  in  light  skirmishes  and  single  combats 
between  the  prime  warriors  of  either  host,  who 
defied  each  other  to  trials  of  skill  and  prowess. 
These  combats,  of  course,  were  desperate,  and 
commonly  cost  the  life  of  one,  if  not  both  of  the 
combatants. 

Saad  overlooked  the  field  from  the  shelter  of  a 
tent,  where  he  sat  at  a  repast  with  his  beautiful 
bride  beside  him.  Her  heart  swelled  with  grief 
at  seeing  so  many  gallant  Moslems  laid  low  ;  a 
thought  of  the  valiant  husband  she  had  lost 
passed  across  her  mind,  and  the  unwary  ejacu- 
lation escaped  her,  "  Alas  !  Mosenna  Ibn  Haris, 
where  art  thou  ?"  Saad  was  stung  to  the  quick 
by  what  he  conceived  a  reproach  on  his  courage 
or  activity,  and  in  the  heat  of  the  moment  struck 
her  on  the  face  with  his  dagger.  "  To-mor- 
row," muttered  he  to  himself,  "  I  will  mount  my 
horse." 

In  the  night  he  secretly  sent  out  a  detachment 
in  the  direction  of  Damascus,  to  remain  conceal- 
ed until  the  two  armies  should  be  engaged  on  the 
following  day,  and  then  to  come  with  banners 
displayed,  and  a  great  sound  of  drum  and  trum- 
pet, as  though  they  were  a  reinforcement  hurry- 
ing to  the  field  of  action. 

The  morning  dawned,  but  still,  to  his  great 
mortification,  Saad  was  unable  to  sit  upon  his 
horse,  and  had  to  intrust  the  conduct  of  the  battle 


to  one  of  his  generals.  It  was  a  clay  of  bloody  and 
obstinate  conflict  ;  and  from  the  tremendous 
shock  of  the  encountering  hosts  was  celebrated 
among  the  Arabs  as  "  The  day  of  the  Concus- 
sion." 

The  arrival  of  the  pretended  reinforcement  in- 
spirited the  Moslems,  who  were  ignorant  of  the 
stratagem,  and  dismayed  the  enemy.  Rustam 
urged  on  his  elephants  to  break  down  the  Arab 
host,  but  they  had  become  familiar  with  those 
animals,  and  attacked  them  so  vigorously  that,  as 
before,  they  turned  upon  their  own  employers 
and  trampled  them  clown  in  their  unwieldy  flight 
from  the  field. 

The  battle  continued  throughout  the  day  with 
varying  fortune  ;  nor  did  it  cease  at  nightfall, 
for  Rustam  rode  about  among  his  troops  urging 
them  to  fight  until  morning.  That  night  was 
called  by  some  the  night  of  delirium  ;  for  in  the 
dark  and  deadly  struggle  the  combatants  struck 
at  random,  and  often  caught  each  other  by  the 
beard  ;  by  others  it  was  called  the  night  of 
howling  and  lamentation,  from  the  cries  of  the 
wounded. 

The  battle  ceased  not  even  at  the  dawning,  but 
continued  until  the  heat  of  the  day.  A  whirlwind 
of  dust  hid  the  armies  from  each  other  for  a 
time,  and  produced  confusion  on  the  field,  but  it 
aided  the  Moslems,  as  it  blew  in  the  faces  of  the 
enemy.  During  a  pause  in  the  conflict,  Rustam, 
panting  with  heat  and  latigue,  and  half  blinded 
with  dust,  took  shelter  from  the  sun  under  a  tent 
which  had  been  pitched  near  the  water,  and  was 
surrounded  by  camels  laden  with  treasure,  and 
with  the  luxurious  furniture  of  the  camp.  A  gust 
of  wind  whirled  the  tent  into  the  water.  He  then 
threw  himself  upon  the  earth  in  the  shade  of  one 
of  the  camels.  A  band  of  Arab  soldiers  came 
upon  him  by  surprise.  One  of  them,  Hellal  Ibn 
Alkameh  by  name,  in  his  eagerness  for  plunder, 
cut  the  cords  which  bound  the  burden  on  the 
camel.  A  package  of  silver  fell  upon  Rustam 
and  broke  his  spine.  In  his  agony  he  fell  or  threw 
himself  into  the  water,  but  was  drawn  out  by  the 
leg,  his  head  stricken  off,  and  elevated  on  the  lance 
of  Hellal.  The  Persians  recognized  the  bloody 
features,  and  fled  amain,  abandoning  to  the 
victors  their  camp,  with  all  its  rich  furniture  and 
baggage,  and  scores  of  beasts  of  burden,  laden 
\vith  treasure  and  with  costly  gear.  The  amount 
of  booty  was  incalculable. 

The  sacred  standard,  too,  was  among  the 
spoils.  To  the  soldier  who  had  captured  it,  thirty- 
thousand  pieces  of  gold  are  said  to  have  been 
paid  at  Saad's  command  ;  and  the  jewels  with 
which  it  was  studded  were  put  with  the  other 
booty,  to  be  shared  according  to  rule.  Hellal, 
too,  who  brought  the  head  of  Rustam  to  Saad, 
was  allowed  as  a  reward  to  strip  the  body  of  his 
victim.  Never  did  Arab  soldier  make  richer 
spoil.  The  garments  of  Rustam  were  richly  em- 
broidered, and  he  wore  two  gorgeous  belts,  or- 
namented with  jewels,  one  worth  a  thousand 
pieces  of  gold,  the  other  seventy  thousand  dir- 
hems  of  silver. 

Thirty  thousand  Persians  are  said  to  have  fallen 
in  this  battle,  and  upward  of  seven  thousand 
Moslems.  The  loss  most  deplored  by  the  Per- 
sians was  that  of  their  sacred  banner,  with  which 
they  connected  the  fate  of  the  realm. 

This  battle  took  place  in  the  fifteenth  year  of 
the  Hegira,  and  the  six  hundred  and  thirty-sixth 
year  of  the  Christian  era,  and  is  said  to  be  as 
famous  among  the  Arabs  as  that  of  Arbela  among 
the  Greeks. 


126 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Complaints  having  circulated  among  the  troops 
that  Saad  had  not  mingled  in  the  fight,  he  sum- 
moned several  of  the  old  men  to  his  tent,  and, 
stripping  himself,  showed  the  boils  by  which  he 
was  so  grievously  afflicted  ;  after  which  there  were 
no  further  expressions  of  dissatisfaction.  It  is  to 
be  hoped  he  found  some  means,  equally  explicit, 
of  excusing  himself  to  his  beautiful  bride  for  the 
outrage  he  had  committed  upon  her. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

FOUNDING  OF  BASSORA — CAPTURE  OF  THE  PER- 
SIAN CAPITAL — FLIGHT  OF  YEZDEGIRD  TO  HOL- 
WAN. 

AFTER  the  signal  victory  of  Kaclesia,  Saad  Ibn 
Abu  Wakkas,  by  command  of  the  Caliph,  re- 
mained for  some  months  in  the  neighborhood, 
completing  the  subjugation  of  the  conquered 
country,  collecting  tax  and  tribute,  and  building 
mosques  in  every  direction  for  the  propagation  of 
the  faith.  About  the  same  time  Omar  caused  the 
city  of  Basra,  or  Bassora,  to  be  founded  in  the 
lower  part  of  Irak  Arabi,  on  that  great  river 
formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Euphrates  and 
the  Tigris.  This  city  was  intended  to  protect 
the  region  conquered  by  the  Moslems  about 
the  mouth  of  the  Euphrates  ;  to  cut  off  the 
trade  of  India  from  Persia,  and  to  keep  a  check 
upon  Ahwaz  (a  part  of  Susiana  or  Khusestan),  the 
prince  or  satrap  of  which,  Hormusan  by  name, 
had  taken  an  active  part  in  the  late  battle  of  Ka- 
desia.  The  city  of  Bassora  was  founded  in  the 
fourteenth  year  of  the  Hegira,  by  Orweh  Ibn 
Otbeh.  It  soon  gathered  within  its  walls  great 
numbers  of  inhabitants  from  the  surrounding 
country  ;  rose  rapidly  in  importance,  and  has  ever 
since  been  distinguished  as  a  mart  for  the  Indian 
commerce. 

Having  brought  all  the  country  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Kadesia  into  complete  subjection,  Saad 
Ibn  Abu  Wakkas,  by  command  of  the  Caliph, 
proceeded  in  the  conquest  of  Persia.  The  late 
victories,  and  the  capture  of  the  national  banner, 
had  struck  despair  into  the  hearts  of  the  Persians. 
They  considered  the  downfall  of  their  religion  and 
empire  at  hand,  and  for  a  time  made  scarcely  any 
resistance  to  the  invaders.  Cities  and  strongholds 
surrendered  almost  without  a  blow.  Babel  is 
incidentally  enumerated  among  the  captured 
places  ;  but  the  once  all-powerful  Babylon  was 
now  shrunk  into  such  insignificance  that  its  cap- 
ture seemed  not  worthy  of  a  boast.  Saad  crossed 
the  Tigris  and  advanced  upon  Madayn,  the  Per- 
sian capital.  His  army,  on  departing  from  Ka- 
desia, had  not  exceeded  twenty  thousand  men, 
having  lost  many  by  battle  and  more  by  disease. 
Multitudes,  however,  from  the  subjugated  cities, 
and  from  other  parts,  joined  his  standard  while 
on  the  march,  so  that,  as  he  approached  Madayn, 
his  forces  amounted  to  sixty  thousand  men. 

There  was  abundance  of  troops  in  Madayn,  the 
wrecks  of  vanquished  armies  and  routed  garri- 
sons, but  there  was  no  one  capable  or  willing  to 
take  the  general  command.  All  seemed  par- 
alyzed by  their  fears.  The  king  summoned  his 
counsellors  about  him,  but  their  only  advice  was 
to  fly.  "  Khorassan  and,Kerman  are  still  yours," 
said  they  ;  "let  us  depart  while  we  may  do  so  in 
safety  ;  why  should  we  remain  here  to  be  made 
captives  ?" 


Yezdegird  hesitated  to  take  this  craven  advice  ; 
but  more  from  weakness  and  indecision  of  char- 
acter than  from  any  manly  repugnance.  He 
wavered  and  lingered,  until  what  might  have  been 
an  orderly  retreat  became  a  shameful  flight.  When 
the  invaders  were  within  one  day's  march  of  his 
capital  he  ordered  his  valuables  to  be  packed 
upon  beasts  of  burden,  and  set  off,  with  a  worth- 
less retinue  of  palace  minions,  attendants,  and 
slaves,  male  and  female,  for  Holwan,  at  the  foot 
of  the  Medean  hills.  His  example  was  followed 
throughout  the  city.  There  was  hurry  and  tumult 
in  every  part.  Fortunate  was  he  who  had  a 
camel,  or  a  horse,  or  an  ass,  to  load  with  his  most 
valuable  effects  ;  such  as  were  not  so  provided, 
took  what  they  could  on  their  shoulders  ;  but,  in 
such  a  hasty  and  panic-stricken  flight,  where  per- 
sonal safety  was  the  chief  concern,  little  could  be 
preserved  ;  the  greater  part  of  their  riches  re- 
mained behind.  Thus  the  wealthy  Madayn,  the 
once  famous  Ctesiphon,  which  had  formerly  re- 
pulsed a  Roman  army,  though  furnished  with  bat- 
tering rams  and  other  warlike  engines,  was 
abandoned  without  a  blow  at  the  approach  of 
these  nomad  warriors. 

As  Saad  entered  the  deserted  city  he  gazed 
with  wonder  and  admiration  at  its  stately  edifices, 
surrounded  by  vineyards  and  gardens,  all  left  to 
his  mercy  by  the  flying  owners.  In  pious  exulta- 
tion he  repeated  aloud  a  passage  of  the  Koran, 
alluding  to  the  abandonment  by  Pharaoh  and  his 
troops  of  their  habitations,  when  they  went  in 
pursuit  of  the  children  of  Israel.  "  How  many 
gardens  and  fountains,  and  fields  of  corn  and  fair 
dwellings,  and  other  sources  of  delight,  did  they 
leave  behind  them  !  Thus  we  dispossessed  them 
thereof,  and  gave  the  same  for  an  inheritance  to 
another  people.  Neither  heaven  nor  eaith  wept 
for  them.  They  were  unpitied."  * 

The  deserted  city  was  sacked  and  pillaged. 
One  may  imagine  the  sacking  of  such  a  place  by 
the  ignorant  hordes  of  the  desert.  The  rude 
Arabs  beheld  themselves  surrounded  by  treasures 
beyond  their  conception  ;  works  of  art,  the  value 
of  which  they  could  not  appreciate,  and  articles 
of  luxury  which  moved  their  ridicule  rather  than 
their  admiration.  In  roving  through  the  streets 
they  came  to  the  famous  palace  of  the  Khosrus, 
begun  by  Khobad  Ibn  Firuz,  and  finished  by  his 
son  Nushirwan,  constructed  of  polished  marble, 
and  called  the  white  palace,  from  its  resplendent 
appearance.  As  they  gazed  at  it  in  wonderment, 
they  called  to  mind  the  prediction  of  Mahomet, 
when  he  heard  that  the  haughty  monarch  of  Per- 
sia had  torn  his  letter  :  "  Even  so  shall  Allah  rend 
his  empire  in  pieces."  "  Behold  the  white  palace 
of  Khosru,"  cried  the  Moslems  to  one  another  ! 
"  This  is  the  fulfilment  of  the  prophecy  of  the 
apostle  of  God  !" 

Saad  entered  the  lofty  portal  of  the  palace  with 
feelings  of  devotion.  His  first  act  was  to  make 
his  salaam  and  prostrations,  and  pronounce  the 
confession  of  faith  in  its  deserted  halls.  He  then 
took  note  of  its  contents,  and  protected  it  from  the 
ravage  of  the  soldiery,  by  making  it  his  headquar- 
ters. It  was  furnished  throughout  with  oriental 
luxury.  It  had  wardrobes  filled  with  gorgeous 
apparel.  In  the  armory  were  weapons  of  all 
kinds,  magnificently  wrought  :  a  coat  of  mail  and 
sword,  for  state  occasions,  bedecked  with  jewels 
of  incalculable  value  ;  a  silver  horseman  on  a 
golden  horse,  and  a  golden  rider  on  a  silver  camel, 
all  likewise  studded  with  jewels. 


*  Koran,  chapter  24. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


127 


In  the  vaults  were  treasures  of  gold  and  silver 
and  precious  stones  ;  with  money,  the  vast 
amount  of  which,  though  stated  by  Arabian  his- 
torians, we  hesitate  to  mention. 

In  some  of  the  apartments  were  gold  and  silver 
vessels  filled  with  oriental  perfumes.  In  the 
magazines  were  stored  exquisite  spices,  odorifer- 
ous gums,  and  medicinal  drugs.  Among  the 
latter  were  quantities  of  camphor,  which  the 
Arabs  mistook  for  salt  and  mixed  with  their  food. 

In  one  of  the  chambers  was  a  silken  carpet  of 
great  size,  which  the  king  used  in  winter.  Art 
and  expense  had  been  lavished  upon  it.  It  was 
made  to  represent  a  garden.  The  leaves  of  the 
plants  were  emeralds  ;  the  flowers  were  embroid- 
ered in  their  natural  colors,  with  pearls  and  jewels 
and  precious  stones  ;  the  fountains  were  wrought 
with  diamonds  and  sapphires,  to  represent  the 
sparkling  of  their  waters.  The  value  of  the  whole 
was  beyond  calculation. 

The  hall  of  audience  surpassed  every  other  part 
in  magnificence.  The  vaulted  roof,  says  D'Her- 
bolot,  resembled  a  firmament  decked  with  golden 
spheres,  each  with  a  corresponding  movement,  so 
as  to  represent  the  planets  and  the  signs  of  the 
zodiac.  The  throne  was  of  prodigious  grandeur, 
supported  on  silver  columns.  Above  it  was  the 
crown  of  Khosru  Nashirwan,  suspended  by  a 
golden  chain  to  bear  the  immense  weight  of  its 
jewels,  but  contrived  to  appear  as  if  on  the  head 
of  the  monarch  when  seated. 

A  mule  is  said  to  have  been  overtaken,  on  which 
a  trusty  officer  of  the  palace  was  bearing  away 
some  of  the  jewels  of  the  crown,  the  tiara  or  dia- 
dem of  Yezdegird,  with  his  belt  and  scimetar  and 
bracelets. 

Saad  appointed  Omar  Ibn  Muskry  to  take 
charge  of  all  the  spoils  for  regular  distribution, 
and  criers  were  sent  about  to  make  proclamation 
that  the  soldiers  should  render  in  tneir  booty  to 
that  officer.  Such  was  the  enormous  amount  that, 
after  a  fifth  had  been  set  apart  for  the  Caliph,  the 
remainder,  divided  among  sixty  thousand  men, 
gave  each  of  them  twelve  hundred  dirhems  of 
silver. 

It  took  nine  hundred  heavily  laden  camels  to 
convey  to  Medina  the  Caliph's  fifth  of  the  spoil, 
among  which  the  carpet,  the  clothing,  and  regalia 
of  the  king  were  included.  The  people  of  Me- 
dina, though  of  late  years  accustomed  to  the  rich 
booty  of  the  armies,  were  astonished  at  such  an 
amount  of  treasure.  Omar  ordered  that  a  mosque 
should  be  built  of  part  of  the  proceeds.  A  con- 
sultation was  held  over  the  royal  carpet,  whether 
it  should  be  stored  away  in  the  public  treasury  to 
be  used  by  the  Caliph  on  state  occasions,  or 
whether  it  should  be  included  in  the  booty  to  be 
shared. 

Omar  hesitated  to  decide  with  his  usual  prompt- 
ness, and  referred  the  matter  to  Ali.  "  Oh, 
prince  of  true  believers  !"  exclaimed  the  latter  ; 
"  how  can  one  of  thy  clear  perception  doubt  in 
this  matter.  In  the  world  nothing  is  thine  but 
what  thou  expendest  in  well-doing.  What  thou 
wearest  will  be  worn  out  ;  what  thou  eatest  will 
be  consumed  ;  but  that  which  thou  expendest  in 
well-doing  is  sent  before  thee  to  the  otherworld." 

Omar  determined  that  the  carpet  should  be 
shared  among  his  chiefs.  He  divided  it  literally, 
with  rigid  equity,  cutting  it  up  without  regard  to 
the  skill  and  beauty  of  the  design,  or  its  value  as 
an  entire  piece  of  workmanship.  Such  was  the 
richness  of  the  materials,  that  the  portion  al- 
loted  to  Ali  alone  sold  for  eight  thousand  dirhems 
of  silver. 


This  signal  capture  of  the  capital  of  Persia  took 
place  in  the  month  Safar,  in  the  sixteenth  year 
of  the  Hegira,  and  the  year  637  of  the  Christian 
era  ;  the  same  year  with  the  capture  of  Jerusalem. 
The  fame  of  such  immense  spoil,  such  treasures 
of  art  in  the  hands  of  ignorant  Arab  soldiery,  sum- 
moned the  crafty  and  the  avaricious  from  all  quar- 
ters. All  the  world,  it  is  said,  flocked  from  the 
West,  from  Yemen,  and  from  Egypt,  to  purchase 
the  costly  stuffs  captured  from  the  Persians.  It 
was  like  the  vultures,  winging  their  way  from  all 
parts  of  the  heavens,  to  gorge  on  the  relics  of  a 
hunting  camp. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

CAPTURE  OF  J&LULA— FLIGHT  OF  YEZDEGIRD  TO 
REI — FOUNDING  OF  CUFA — SAAD  RECEIVES  A 
SEVERE  REBUKE  FROM  THE  CALIPH  FOR  HIS 
MAGNIFICENCE. 

SAAD  IBN  ABU  WAKKAS  would  fain  have  pur- 
sued Yezdegird  to  Holwan,  among  the  hills  of  an- 
cient Medea,  where  he  had  taken  refuge  ;  but  he 
was  restrained  by  the  Caliph  Omar,  who  kept  a 
cautious  check  from  Medina  upon  his  conquering 
generals  ;  fearful  that  in  the  flush  and  excitement 
of  victory  they  might  hurry  forward  beyond  the 
reach  of  succor.  By  the  command  of  Omar, 
therefore,  he  remained  with  his  main  army  in 
Madayn,  and  sent  his  brother  Hashein  with  twelve 
thousand  men  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive  monarch. 
Hashem  found  a  large  force  of  Persians,  relics  ot 
defeated  armies,  assembled  in  Jalula,  not  far  from 
Holwan,  where  they  were  disposed  to  make  a 
stand.  He  laid  siege  to  the  place,  but  it  was  of 
great  strength  and  maintained  a  brave  and  obsti- 
nate defence  for  six  months,  during  which  there 
were  eighty  assaults.  At  length,  the  garrison 
being  reduced  by  famine  and  incessant  fighting, 
and  the  commander  slain,  it  surrendered. 

Yezdegird  on  hearing  of  the  capture  of  Jalula 
abandoned  the  city  of  Holwan,  leaving  troops 
there  under  a  general  named  Habesh,  to  check 
the  pursuit  of  the  enemy.  The  place  of  refuge 
which  he  now  sought  was  the  city  ot  Rei,  or  Rai', 
the  Rhages  of  Arrian  ;  theRhaga  and  Rhageia  of 
the  Greek  geographers  ;  a  city  of  remote  antiquity, 
contemporary,  it  is  said,  with  Nineveh  and  Ecba- 
tana,  and  mentioned  in  the  book  of  Tobit  ;  who, 
we  are  told,  travelled  from  Nineveh  to  Rages,  a 
city  of  Medea.  It  was  a  favorite  residence  of  the 
Parthian  kings  in  days  of  yore.  In  his  flight 
through  the  mountains  the  monarch  was  borne 
on  a  chair  or  litter  between  mules  ;  travelling  a 
station  each  day  and  sleeping  in  the  litter.  Ha- 
besh, whom  he  had  left  behind,  was  soon  defeat- 
ed, and  followed  him  in  his  flight. 

Saad  again  wrote  to  the  Caliph,  urging  that  he 
might  be  permitted  to  follow  the  Persian  king  to 
his  place  of  refuge  among  the  mountains,  before 
he  should  have  time  to  assemble  another  army  ; 
but  he  again  met  with  a  cautious  check.  "  You 
have  this  year,"  said  the  Caliph,  "  taken  Sawad 
and  Irak  ;  ior  Holwan  is  at  the  extremity  of  Irak. 
That  is  enough  for  the  present.  The  welfare  of 
true  believers  is  of  more  value  than  booty."  So 
ended  the  sixteenth  year  of  the  Hegira. 

The  climate  of  Madayn  proving  unhealthy  to  his 
troops,  and  Saad  wishing  to  establish  a  fortified 
camp  in  the  midst  of  his  victories,  was  ordered 
by  the  Caliph  to  seek  some  favorable  site  on  the 


128 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


western  side  of  the  Euphrates,  where  there  was 
good  air,  a  well-watered  plain  and  plenty  of  grass 
tor  the  camels  ;  things  highly  appreciated  by  the 
Arabs. 

Saad  chose  for  the  purpose  the  village  of  Cufa, 
which,  according  to  Moslem  tradition,  was  the 
spot  where  Noah  embarked  in  the  ark.  The 
Arabs  further  pretend  that  the  serpent  after  tempt- 
ing Eve  was  banished  to  this  place.  Hence,  they 
say,  the  guile  and  treachery  for  which  the  men  of 
Cufa  are  proverbial.  This  city  became  so  cele- 
brated that  the  Euphrates  was  at  one  time  gener- 
ally denominated  Nahar  Cufa,  or  the  river  of 
Cufa.  The  most  ancient  characters  of  the  Arabic 
alphabet  are  termed  Cufic  to  the  present  day. 

In  building  Cufa,  much  of  the  stone,  marble, 
and  timber  for  the  principal  edifices  were  fur- 
nished from  the  ruins  of  Madayn  ;  there  being 
such  a  scarcity  of  those  materials  in  Babylonia 
and  its  vicinity  that  the  houses  were  generally 
constructed  of  bricks  baked  in  the  sun  and 
cemented  with  bitumen.  It  used  to  be  said,  there- 
fore, that  the  army  on  its  remove  took  with  it  all 
the  houses  of  Sawad.  Saad  Ibn  Abu  Wakkas,  who 
appears  to  have  imbibed  a  taste  for  Persian  splen- 
dor, erected  a  sumptuous  Kiosk  or  summer  resi- 
dence, and  decorated  it  with  a  grand  portal  taken 
from  the  palace  of  the  Khosrusat  Madayn.  When 
Omar  heard  of  this  he  was  sorely  displeased,  his 
great  apprehension  being  that  his  generals  would 
lose  the  good  old  Arab  simplicity  of  manners  in 
the  luxurious  countries  they  were  conquering.  He 
forthwith  dispatched  a  trusty  envoy,  Mahomet 
Ibn  Muslemah,  empowered  to  give  Saad  a  salu- 
tary rebuke.  On  arriving  at  Cufa,  Mahomet 
caused  a  great  quantity  of  wood  to  be  heaped 
against  the  door  of  the  Kiosk  and  set  fire  to  it. 
When  Saad  came  forth  in  amazement  at  this  out- 
rage, Mahomet  put  into  his  hands  the  following 
letter  from  the  Caliph  : 

"  I  am  told  thou  hast  built  a  lofty  palace,  like 
to  that  of  the  Khosrus,  and  decorated  it  with  a 
door  taken  from  the  latter,  with  a  view  to  have 

fuards  and  chamberlains  stationed  about  it  to 
eep  off  those  who  may  come  in  quest  of  justice 
or  assistance,  as  was  the  practice  of  the  Khosrus 
before  thee.  In  so  doing  thou  hast  departed  from 
the  ways  of  the  prophet  (on  whom  be  benedictions), 
and  hast  lallen  into  the  ways  of  the  Persian  mon- 
archs.  Know  that  the  Khosrus  have  passed  from 
their  palace  to  the  tomb  ;  while  the  prophet,  from 
his  lowly  habitation  on  earth,  has  been  elevated 
to  the  highest  heaven.  I  have  sent  Mahomet  Ibn 
Muslemah  to  burn  thy  palace.  In  this  world  two 
houses  are  sufficient  for  thee — one  to  dwell  in, 
the  other  to  contain  the  treasure  of  the  Moslems." 
Saad  was  too  wary  to  make  any  opposition  to 
the  orders  of  the  stern-minded  Omar ;  so  he 
looked  on  without  a  murmur  as  his  stately  Kiosk 
was  consumed  by  the  flames.  He  even  offered 
Mahomet  presents,  which  the  latter  declined,  and 
returned  to  Medina.  Saad  removed  to  a  different 
part  of  the  city,  and  built  a  more  modest  mansion 
for  himself,  and  another  for  the  treasury. 

In  the  same  year  with  the  founding  of  Cufa  the 
Caliph  Omar  married  Omm  Kolsam,  the  daugh- 
ter ot  Ali  and  Fatima,  and  granddaughter  of  the 
prophet.  This  drew  him  in  still  closer  bonds  of 
friendship  and  confidence  with  Ali,  who  with 
Othman  shared  his  councils,  and  aided  him  in 
managing  from  Medina  the  rapidly  accumulating 
affairs  of  the  Moslem  empire. 

It  must  be  always  nofed,  that  however  stern 
and  strict  may  appear  the  laws  and  ordinances  of 
Omar,  he  was  rigidly  impartial  in  enforcing 


them  ;  and  one  of  his  own  sons,  having  neen 
found  intoxicated,  received  the  twenty  bastinadoes 
on  the  soles  of  the  feet,  which  he  had  decreed  for 
offences  of  the  kind. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

WAR  WITH   HORMUZA"N,    THE  SATRAP  OF   AHWAZ 
— HIS   CONQUEST   AND   CONVERSION. 

THE  founding  of  the  city  of  Bassora  had  given 
great  annoyance  and  uneasiness  to  Hormuzan,  the 
satrap  or  viceroy  of  Ahwaz,  or  Susiana.  His  prov- 
ince lay  between  Babylonia  and  Farsistan,  and 
he  saw  that  this  rising  city  of  the  Arabs  was  in- 
tended as  a  check  upon  him.  His  province  was 
one  of  the  richest  and  most  important  of  Persia, 
producing  cotton,  rice,  sugar,  and  wheat.  It  was 
studded  with  cities,  which  the  historian  Tabari 
compared  to  a  cluster  of  stars.  In  the  centre  stood 
the  metropolis  Susa,  one  ot  the  royal  resorts  of 
the  Persian  kings,  celebrated  in  scriptural  history, 
and  said  to  possess  the  tomb  of  the  prophet 
Daniel.  It  was  once  adorned  with  palaces  and 
courts,  and  parks  ot  prodigious  extent,  though 
now  all  is  a  waste,  "  echoing  only  to  the  roar  of 
the  lion,  or  yell  of  the  hyena." 

Here  Hormuzan,  the  satrap,  emulated  the  state 
and  luxury  ot  a  king.  He  was  of  a  haughty 
spirit,  priding  himself  upon  his  descent,  his  an- 
cestors having  once  sat  on  the  throne  of  Persia. 
For  this  reason  his  sons,  being  of  the  blood  royal, 
were  permitted  to  wear  crowns,  though  of  smaller 
size  than  those  worn  by  kings,  and  his  family  was 
regarded  with  great  deference  by  the  Persians. 

This  haughty  satrap,  not  rendered  wary  by  the 
prowess  of  the  Moslem  arms,  which  he  had  wit- 
nessed and  experienced  at  Kadesia,  made  prepara- 
tions to  crush  the  rising  colony  of  Bassora.  The 
founders  of  that  city  called  on  the  Caliph  for  pro- 
tection, and  troops  were  marched  to  their  assist- 
ance from  Medina,  and  from  the  headquarters  of 
Saad  at  Cula.  Hormuzan  soon  had  reason  to  re- 
pent his  having  provoked  hostilities.  He  was  de- 
feated in  repeated  battles,  and  at  length  was  glad 
to  make  peace  with  the  loss  of  half  of  his  territories, 
and  all  but  four  of  his  cluster  of  cities.  He  was 
not  permitted  long  to  enjoy  even  this  remnant  of 
domain.  Yezdegird,  from  his  retreat  at  Rei,  re- 
proached Hormuzan  and  the  satrap  of  the  adjacent 
province  of  Farsistan,  for  not  co-operating  to 
withstand  the  Moslems.  At  his  command  they 
united  their  forces,  and  Hormuzan  broke  the  treaty 
of  peace  which  he  had  so  recently  concluded. 

The  devotion  of  Hormuzan  to  his  fugitive  sov- 
ereign ended  in  his  ruin.  The  Caliph  ordered 
troops  to  assemble  from  the  different  Moslem 
posts,  and  complete  the  conquest  of  Ahwfiz.  Hor- 
muzan disputed  his  territory  bravely,  but  was 
driven  from  place  to  place,  until  he  made  his  last 
stand  in  the  fortress  of  Ahwaz,  or  Susa.  For  six- 
months  he  was  beleaguered,  during  which  time 
there  were  many  sallies  and  assaults,  and  hard 
fighting  on  both  sides.  At  length,  Barii  Ibn 
Malek  was  sent  to  take  command  ot  the  besiegers. 
He  had  been  an  especial  favorite  ot  the  prophet, 
and  there  was  a  superstitious  feeling  concerning 
him.  He  manifested  at  all  times  an  indiffer- 
ence to  life  or  death  ;  always  pressed  forward  to 
the  place  of  danger,  and  every  action  in  which 
he  served  was  successful. 

On  his  taking  the  command,  the  troops  gathered 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


129 


round  him.  "  Oh  Bara  !  swear  to  overthrow  these 
infidels,  and  the  Most  High  will  favor  us." 

Bara  swore  that  the  place  would  be  taken,  and 
the  infidels  put  to  flight,  but  that  he  would  fall  a 
martyr. 

In  the  very  next  assault  he  was  killed  by  an 
arrow  sped  by  Hormuzan.  The  army  took  his 
death  as  a  good  omen.  "  One  half  of  his  oath  is 
fulfilled,"  said  they,  "  and  so  will  be  the  other." 

Shortly  afterward  a  Persian  traitor  came  to 
Abu  Shebrah,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  Moslem 
command,  and  revealed  a  secret  entrance  by  a 
conduit  under  the  castle,  by  which  it  was  supplied 
with  water.  A  hundred  Moslems  entered  it  by 
night,  threw  open  the  outward  gates,  and  let  in 
the  army  into  the  court-yards.  Hormuzan  was 
ensconced,  however,  in  a  strong  tower,  or  keep, 
from  the  battlements  of  which  he  held  a  parley 
with  the  Moslem  commander.  "  I  have  a  thou- 
sand expert  archers  with  me,"  said  he,  "  who 
never  miss  their  aim.  By  every  arrow  they  dis- 
charge you  will  lose  a  man.  Avoid  this  useless 
sacrifice.  Let  me  depart  in  honor  ;  give  me  sale 
conduct  to  the  Caliph,  and  let  him  dispose  of  me 
as  he  pleases." 

It  was  agreed.  Hormuzan  was  treated  with 
respect  as  he  issued  from  his  fortress,  and  was 
sent  under  an  escort  to  Medina.  He  maintained 
the  air  of  one  not  conducted  as  a  prisoner,  but  at- 
tended by  a  guard  of  honor.  As  he  approached 
the  city  he  halted,  arrayed  himself  in  sumptuous 
apparel,  with  his  jewelled  belt  and  regal  crown, 
and  in  this  guise  entered  the  gates.  The  in- 
habitants gazed  in  astonishment  at  such  unwonted 
luxury  of  attire. 

Omar  was  not  at  his  dwelling  ;  he  had  gone  to 
the  mosque.  Hormuzan  was  conducted  thither. 
On  approaching  the  sacred  edifice,  the  Caliph's 
eloak  was  seen  hanging  against  the  wall,  while  he 
himself,  arrayed  in  patched  garments,  lay  asleep 
with  his  staff  under  his  head.  The  officers  of  the 
escort  seated  themselves  at  a  respectful  distance 
until  he  should  awake.  "  This,"  whispered  they 
to  Hormuzan,  is  the  prince  of  true  believers." 

"  This  t.he  Arab  king  !"  said  the  astonished 
satrxp  ;  "  and  is  this  his  usual  attire  ?"  "  It  is." 
"  And  does  he  sleep  thus  without  guards  ?" 
"  He  does  ;  he  comes  and  goes  alone  ;  and  lies 
down  and  sleeps  where  he  pleases."  "  And  can 
he  administer  justice,  and  conduct  affairs  without 
officers  and  messengers  and  attendants  ?"  "  Even 
so,"  was  the  reply.  "This,"  exclaimed  Hor- 
muzan, at  length,  "  is  the  condition  of  a  prophet, 
but  not  of  a  king."  "  He  is  not  a  prophet,"  was 
the  reply,  "  but  he  acts  like  one." 

As  the  Caliph  awoke  he  recognized  the  officers 
of  the  escort.  "  What  tidings  do  you  bring  ?"  de- 
manded he. — "  But  who  is  this  so  extravagantly 
arrayed  ?"  rubbing  his  eyes  as  they  fell  upon  the 
embroidered  robes  and  jewelled  crown  of  the 
satrap.  "  This  is  Hormuzan,  the  king  of  Ahwaz." 
"Take  the  infidel  out  of  this  place,"  cried  he, 
turning  away  his  head.  "  Strip  him  of  his  riches, 
and  put  on  him  the  riches  of  Islam." 

Hormuzan  was  accordingly  taken  forth,  and  in 
a  little  time  was  brought  again  before  the  Caliph, 
clad  in  a  simple  garb  of  the  striped  cloth  of  Yemen. 

The  Moslem  writers  relate  various  quibbles  by 
which  Hormuzan  sought  to  avert  the  death  with 
which  he  was  threatened,  for  having  slain  Bara 
Ibn  Malekv  He  craved  water  to  allay  his  thirst. 
A  vessel  of  water  was  brought.  Affecting  to  ap- 
prehend immediate  execution  :  "  Shall  I  be  spared 
until  I  have  drunk  this  ?"  Being  answered  by 
the  Caliph  in  the  affirmative,  he  dashed  the  vessel 


to  the  ground.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "you  cannot 
put  me  to  death,  for  I  can  never  drink  the  water.',' 

The  straightforward  Omar,  however,  was  not  to 
be  caught  by  a  quibble.  "  Your  cunning  will  do 
you  no  good,"  said  he.  "  Nothing  will  save  you 
but  to  embrace  Islamism."  The  haughty  Hor- 
muzan was  subdued.  He  made  the  profession  of 
faith  in  due  style,  and  was  at  once  enrolled 
among  true  believers. 

He  resided  thenceforth v in  Medina,  received 
rich  presents  from  the  Caliph,  and  subsequently 
gave  him  much  serviceable  information  and  advice 
in  his  prosecution  of  the  war  with  Persia.  The 
conquest  of  Ahwaz  was  completed  in  the  nine- 
teenth year  of  the  Hegira. 


CHAPTER   XXXI. 

SAAD  SUSPENDED  FROM  THE  COMMAND  —  A 
PERSIAN  ARMY  ASSEMBLED  AT  NEHAVEND — 
COUNCIL  AT  THE  MOSQUE  OF  MEDINA — BAT- 
TLE OF  NEHAVEND. 

OMAR,  as  we  have  seen,  kept  a  jealous  and 
vigilant  eye  upon  his  distant  generals,  being  con- 
stantly haunted  by  the  fear  that  they  would  be- 
come corrupted  in  the  rich  and  luxurious  coun- 
tries they  were  invading,  and  lose  that  Arab  sim- 
plicity which  he  considered  inestimable  in  itself, 
and  all-essential  to  the  success  of  the  cause  of  Is- 
lam. Notwithstanding  the  severe  reproof  he  had 
given  to  Saad  Ibn  Abu  VVakkas  in  burning  down 
his  palace  at  Cufa,  complaints  still  reached  him 
that  the  general  affected  the  pomp  of  a  Caliph, 
that  he  was  unjust  and  oppressive,  unfair  in  the 
division  of  spoils,  and  slow  in  conducting  military 
concerns.  These  charges  proved,  for  the  most 
part,  unfounded,  but  they  caused  Saad  to  be  sus- 
pended from  his  command  until  they  could  be  in- 
vestigated. 

When  the  news  reached  Yezdegird  at  Rei  that 
the  Moslem  general  who  had  conquered  at  Kade- 
sia,  slain  Rustam,  captured  Madayn,  and  driven 
himself  to  the  mountains,  was  deposed  from  the 
command,  he  conceived  fresh  hopes,  and  wrote 
letters  to  all  the  provinces  yet  unconquered,  call- 
ing on  the  inhabitants  to  take  up  arms  and  make  a 
grand  effort  for  the  salvation  of  the  empire.  Ne- 
havend  was  appointed  as  the  place  where  the 
troops  were  to  assemble.  It  was  a  place  of  great 
antiquity,  founded,  says  tradition,  by  Noah,  and 
called  after  him,  and  was  about  fifteen  leagues 
from  Hamadan,  the  ancient  Ecbatana.  Here 
troops  gathered  together  to  the  number  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand. 

Omar  assembled  his  counsellors  at  the  mosque 
of  Medina,  and  gave  them  intelligence,  just  re- 
ceived, of  this  great  armament.  "  This,"  said 
he,  "  is  probably  the  last  great  effort  of  the  Per- 
sians. If  we  defeat  them  now  they  will  never  be 
able  to  unite  again."  He  expressed  a  disposition, 
therefore,  to  take  the  command  in  person. 
Strong  objections  were  advanced.  "  Assemble 
troops  from 'various  parts,"  said  Othman  :  "  but 
remain,  yourself,  either  at  Medina,  Cufa,  or  Hoi- 
wan,  to  send  reinforcements  if  required,  or  to 
form  a  rallying  point  for  the  Moslems,  if  defeat- 
ed." Others  gave  different  counsel.  At  length 
the  matter  was  referred  to  Abbas  Ibn  Abd  al 
Motalleb,  who  was  considered  one  of  the  sagest 
heads  for  counsel  in  the  tribe  of  Koreish.  He 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  Caliph  should  re- 


130 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


main  in  Medina,  and  give  the  command  of  the 
campaign  to  Nu'man  Ibn  Mukry,  who  was 
already  in  Ahwaz,  where  he  had  been  ever  since 
Saad  had  sent  him  thither  from  Irak.  It  is  singu- 
lar to  see  the  fate  of  the  once  mighty  and  magnifi- 
cent empires  of  the  Orient- -Syria,  Chaldea,  Baby- 
lonia, and  the  dominions  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians—thus debated  and  decided  in  the  mosque  of 
Medina— by  a  handful  of  gray-headed  Arabs,  who 
but  a  few  years  previously  had  been  homeless 
fugitives. 

Orders  were  now  sent  to  Nu'man  to  march  to 
Nehavend,  and  reinforcements  joined  him  irom 
Medina,  Bassora,  and  Cufa.  His  force,  when 
thus  collected,  was  but  moderate,  but  it  was 
made  up  of  men  hardened  and  sharpened  by  in- 
cessant warfare,  rendered  daring  and  confident 
by  repeated  victory,  and  led  by  able  officers.  He 
was  afterward  joined  by  ten  thousand  men  from 
Sawad,  Holwan;  and  other  places,  many  of  whom 
were  tributaries. 

The  Persian  army  now  collected  at  Nehavend 
was  commanded  by  Firuzan  ;  he  was  old  and  in- 
firm, but  full  of  intelligence  and  spirit,  and  the 
only  remaining  general  considered  capable  of 
taking  charge  of  such  a  force,  the  best  generals 
having  fallen  in  battle.  The  veteran,  knowing  the 
impetuosity  of  the  Arab  attack,  and  their  supe- 
riority in  the  open  field,  had  taken  a  strong  posi- 
tion, fortified  his  camp,  and  surrounded  it  with  a 
deep  moat  filled  with  water.  Here  he  determined 
to  tire  out  the  patience  of  the  Moslems,  and  await 
an  opportunity  to  strike  a  decisive  blow. 

Nu'man  displayed  his  forces  before  the  Persian 
camp,  and  repeatedly  offered  battle,  but  the  cau- 
tious veteran  was  not  to  be  drawn  out  of  his  in- 
trenchments.  Two  months  elapsed  without  any 
action,  and  the  Moslem  troops,  as  Firuzan  had 
foreseen,  began  to  grow  discontented,  and  to 
murmur  at  their  general. 

A  stratagem  was  now  resorted  to  by  Nu'man 
to  draw  out  the  enemy.  Breaking  up  his  camp, 
he  made  a  hasty  retreat,  leaving  behind  him  many 
articles  of  little  value.  The  stratagem  succeeded. 
The  Persians  sallied,  though  cautiously,  in  pur- 
suit. Nu'man  continued  his  feigned  retreat  for 
another  day,  still  followed  by  the  enemy.  Hav- 
ing drawn  them  to  a  sufficient  distance  from  their 
fortified  camp,  he  took  up  a  position  at  nightfall. 
"  To-morrow,"  said  he  to  his  troops,  "  before  the 
day  reddens,  be  ready  for  battle.  I  have  been 
with  the  prophet  in  many  conflicts,  and  he  always 
commenced  battle  after  the  Friday  prayer." 

The  following  day,  when  the  troops  were  drawn 
out  in  order  of  battle,  he  made  this  prayer  in 
their  presence  :  "  Oh  Allah  !  sustain  this  day  the 
cause  of  Islamism  ;  give  us  victory  over  the  infi- 
dels, and  grant  me  the  glory  of  martyrdom." 
Then  turning  to  his  officers,  he  expressed  a  pre- 
sentiment that  he  should  fall  in  the  battle,  and 
named  the  person  who,  in  such  case,  should  take 
the  command. 

He  now  appointed  the  signal  for  battle.  "  Three 
times,"  said  he,  "I  will  cry  the  tekbir,  and  each 
time  will  shake  my  standard.  At  the  third  time 
let  every  one  fall  on  as  I  shall  do."  He  gave  the 
signal,  Allah  Achbar  !  Allah  Achbar  !  Allah 
Achbar  !  At  the  third  shaking  of  the  standard 
the  tekbfr  was  responded  by  the  army,  and  the 
air  was  rent  by  the  universal  shout  of  Allah 
Achbar  ! 

The  shock  of  the  two  armies  was  terrific  ;  they 
were  soon  enveloped  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  in  which 
the  sound  of  scimetars  and  battle-axes  told  the 
deadly  work  that  was  going  on,  while  the  shouts 


of  Allah  Achbar  continued,  mingled  with  furious 
cries  and  execrations  of  the  Persians,  and  dismal 
groans  of  the  wounded.  In  an  hour  the  Persians 
were  completely  routed.  "  Oh  Lord  !"  exclaimed 
Nu'man  in  pious  ecstasy,  "  my  prayer  for  victory 
has  been  heard  ;  may  that  for  martyrdom  be 
likewise  favored  !" 

He  advanced  his  standard  in  pursuit  of  the  en- 
emy, but  at  the  same  moment  a  Parthian  arrow 
from  the  flying  foe  gave  him  the  death  he  cov- 
eted. His  body,  with  the  face  covered,  was  con- 
veyed to  his  brother,  and  his  standard  given  to 
Hadilah,  whom  he  had  named  to  succeed  him  in 
the  command. 

The  Persians  were  pursued  with  great  slaughter. 
Firuzan  fled  toward  Hamadan,  but  was  overtaken 
at  midnight  as  he  was  ascending  a  steep  hill,  em- 
barrassed among  a  crowd  of  mules  and  camels 
laden  with  the  luxurious  superfluities  of  a  Persian 
camp.  Here  he  and  several  thousand  of  his  sol- 
diers and  camp-followers  were  cut  to  pieces. 
The  booty  was  immense.  Forty  of  the  mules 
were  found  to  be  laden  with  honey  ;  which  made 
the  Arabs  say,  with  a  sneer,  that  Firuzan's  army 
was  clogged  with  its  own  honey,  until  overtaken 
by  the  true  believers.  The  whole  number  of  Per- 
sians slain  in  this  battle,  which  sealed  the  fate  of 
the  empire,  is  said  to  have  amounted  to  one  hun- 
dred thousand.  It  took  place  in  the  twenty-first 
year  of  the  Hegira,  and  the  year  641  of  the  Chris- 
tian era,  and  was  commemorated  among  Mos- 
lems, as  "  The  Victory  of  Victories." 

On  a  day  subsequent  to  the  battle  a  man 
mounted  on  an  ass  rode  into  the  camp  of  Hadi- 
feh.  He  was  one  who  had  served  in  the  tem- 
ples of  the  fire-worshippers,  and  was  in  great  con- 
sternation, fearing  to  be  sacrificed  by  the  fanatic 
Moslems.  "  Spare  my  life,"  said  he  to  Hadifeh, 
"  and  the  life  of  another  person  whom  I  shall  des- 
ignate, and  I  will  deliver  into  your  hands  a  treas- 
ure put  under  my  charge  by  Yezdegird  when  he 
fled  to  Rei."  His  terms  being  promised,  he 
produced  a  sealed  box.  On  breaking  the  seal, 
Hadifeh  found  it  filled  with  rubies  and  precious 
stones  of  various  colors,  and  jewels  of  great  price. 
He  was  astonished  at  the  sight  of  what  appeared 
to  him  incalculable  riches.  "These  jewels," 
said  he,  "  have  not  been  gained  in  battle,  nor  by 
the  sword  ;  we  have,  therefore,  no  right  to  any 
share  in  them."  With  the  concurrence  of  his 
officers,  therefore,  he  sent  the  box  to  the  Caliph 
to  be  retained  by  himself  or  divided  among  the 
true  believers  as  he  should  think  proper.  The 
officer  who  conducted  the  fifth  part  of  the  spoils 
to  Medina  delivered  the  box,  and  related  its  his- 
tory to  Omar.  The  Caliph,  little  skilled  in  mat- 
ters of  luxury,  and  holding  them  in  supreme  con- 
tempt, gazed  with  an  ignorant  or  scornful  eye  at 
the  imperial  jewels,  and  refused  to  receive  them. 
"  You  know  not  what  these  things  are,"  said  he. 
"  Neither  do  I  ;  but  they  justly  belong  to  those 
who  slew  the  infidels,  and  to  no  one  else."  He 
ordered  the  officer,  therefore,  to  depart  forthwith 
and  carry  the  box  back  to  Hadifeh.  The  jewels 
were  sold  by  the  latter  to  the  merchants  who  fol- 
lowed the  camp,  and  when  the  proceeds  were  di- 
vided among  the  troops,  each  horseman  received 
for  his  share  four  thousand  pieces  of  gold. 

Far  other  was  the  conduct  of  the  Caliph  when 
he  received  the  letter  giving  an  account  of  the  vic- 
tory at  Nehavend.  His  first  inquiry  was  after 
his  old  companion  in  the  faith,  Nu'man.  "  May 
God  grant  you  and  him  mercy  !"  was  the  reply. 
"  He  has  become  a  martyr  !" 

Omar,  it  is  said,  wept.     He  next  inquired  who 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


131 


also  were  martyrs.  Several  were  named  with 
whom  he  was  acquainted  ;  but  many  who  were 
unknown  to  him.  "  If  I  know  them  not,"  said 
he,  piously  quoting  a  text  ol  the  Koran,  "  God 
does  !" 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

CAPTURE  OF  RAMADAN  ;  OF  REI— SUBJUGATION 
OF  TABARISTAN  ;  OF  AZERBlJAN — CAMPAIGN 
AMONG  THE  CAUCASIAN  MOUNTAINS. 

THE  Persian  troops  who  had  survived  the  sig- 
nal defeat  of  Firuzan  assembled  their  broken 
forces  near  the  city  of  Hamadan,  but  were  soon 
routed  again  by  a  detachment  sent  against  them 
by  Hadffeh,  who  had  fixed  his  headquarters  at 
Nehavend.  They  then  took  refuge  in  Hamadan, 
and  ensconced  themselves  in  its  strong  fortress 
or  citadel. 

Hamadan  was  the  second  city  in  Persia  for 
grandeur,  and  was  built  upon  the  site  of  Ecbatana, 
in  old  times  the  principal  city  of  the  Medes.  There 
were  more  Jews  among  its  inhabitants  than  were 
to  be  found  in  any  other  city  of  Persia,  and  it 
boasted  of  possessing  the  tombs  of  Esther  and 
Mordecai.  It  was  situated  on  a  steep  eminence, 
down  the  sides  of  which  it  descended  into  a  fruit- 
ful plain,  watered  by  streams  gushing  down  from 
the  lofty  Orontes,  now  Mount  Elwand.  The 
place  was  commanded  by  Habesh,  the  same  gen- 
eral who  had  been  driven  from  Holwan  after  the 
flight  of  Yezdegird.  Habesh  sought  an  inter- 
view with  Hadifeh,  at  his  encampment  at  Neha- 
vend, and  made  a  treaty  of  peace  with  him  ;  but 
it  was  a  fraudulent  one,  and  intended  merely  to 
gain  time.  Returning  to  Hamadan,  he  turned  the 
whole  city  into  a  fortress,  and  assembled  a  strong 
garrison,  being  reinforced  from  the  neighboring 
province  of  Azerbijan. 

On  being  informed  of  this  want  of  good  faith 
on  the  part  of  the  governor  of  Hamadan,  the  Ca- 
liph Omar  dispatched  a  strong  force  against  the 
place,  led  by  an  able  officer  named  Nu'haim  Ibn 
Mukrin.  Habesh  had  more  courage  than  cau- 
tion. Confident  in  the  large  force  he  had  assem- 
bled, instead  of  remaining  within  his  strongly 
fortified  city,  he  sallied  forth  and  met  the  Mos- 
lems in  open  field.  The  battle  lasted  for  three 
days,  and  was  harder  fought  than  even  that  of 
Nehavend,  but  ended  in  leaving  the  Moslems  tri- 
umphant masters  of  the  once  formidable  capital 
of  Medea. 

Nu'haim  now  marched  against  Rei,  late  the 
place  of  refuge  of  Yezdegird.  That  prince,  how- 
ever, had  deserted  it  on  the  approach  of  danger, 
leaving  it  in  charge  of  a  noble  named  Siyawesh 
Ibn  Barham.  Hither  the  Persian  princes  had  sent 
troops  from  the  yet  unconquered  provinces,  for 
Siyawesh  had  nobly  offered  to  make  himself  as  a 
buckler  to  them,  and  conquer  or  fall  in  their 
defence.  His  patriotism  was  unavailing  ;  treach- 
ery and  corruption  were  too  prevalent  among  the 
Persians.  Zain,  a  powerful  noble  resident  in 
Rei,  and  a  deadly  enemy  of  Siyawesh,  conspired 
to  admit  two  thousand  Moslems  in  at  one  gate  of 
the  city,  at  the  time  when  its  gallant  governor  was 
making  a  sally  by  another.  A  scene  of  tumult 
and  carnage  took  place  in  the  streets,  where  both 
armies  engaged  in  deadly  conflict.  The  patriot 
Siyawesh  was  slain,  with  a  great  part  of  his 
troops  ;  the  city  was  captured  and  sacked,  and 


its  citadel  destroyed,  and  the  traitor  Zain  was  re- 
warded lor  his  treachery  by  being  made  governor 
of  the  ruined  place. 

Nu'hiam  now  sent  troops  in  different  directions 
against  Kumish,  and  Dameghan,  and  Jurgan  (the 
ancient  Hircania),  and  Tabaristan.  They  met 
with  feeble  resistance.  The  national  spirit  was 
broken  ;  even  the  national  religion  was  nearly  at 
an  end.  "  This  Persian  religion  of  ours  has  be- 
come obsolete,"  said  Farkham,  a  military  sage, 
to  an  assemblage  of  commanders,  who  asked  his 
advice  ;  "  the  new  religion  is  carrying  everything 
before  it  ;  my  advice  is  to  make  peace  and  pay 
tribute."  His  advice  was  adopted.  All  Tabaristan 
became  tributary  in  the  annual  sum  of  five  hun- 
dred thousand  dirhems,  with  the  condition  that 
the  Moslems  should  levy  no  troops  in  that  quarter. 

Azerbijan  was  next  invaded  ;  the  country  which 
had  sent  troops  to  the  aid  of  Hamadan.  This 
province  lay  north  of  Rei  and  Hamadan,  and 
extended  to  the  Rocky  Caucasus.  It  was  the 
stronghold  of  the  Magians  or  Fire-worshippers, 
where  they  had  their  temples,  and  maintained  their 
perpetual  fire.  Hence  the  name  of  the  country, 
Azer  signifying  fire.  The  princes  of  the  country 
made  an  ineffectual  stand  ;  their  army  was  de- 
feated ;  the  altars  of  the  fire-worshippers  were 
overturned  ;  their  temples  destroyed,  and  Azer- 
bijan won. 

The  arms  of  Islam  had  now  been  carried  tri- 
umphantly to  the  very  defiles  of  the  Caucasus  ; 
those  mountains  were  yet  to  be  subdued.  Their 
rocky  sierras  on  the  east  separated  Azerbijan 
from  Haziz  and  the  shores  of  the  Caspian,  and  on 
the  north  from  the  vast  Sarmatian  regions.  The 
passes  through  these  mountains  were  secured  of 
yore,  by  fortresses  and  walls  and  iron  gates,  to 
bar  against  irruptions  from  the  shadowy  land  of 
Gog  and  Magog,  the  terror  of  the  olden  time,  for 
by  these  passes  had  poured  in  the  barbarous 
hordes  of  the  north,  "  a  mighty  host  all  riding 
upon  horses,"  who  lived  in  tents,  worshipped  the 
naked  sword  planted  in  the  earth,  and  decorated 
their  steeds  with  the  scalps  of  their  enemies  slain 
in  battle.* 


*  By  some  Gog  and  Magog  are  taken  in  an  alle- 
gorical sense,  signifying  the  princes  of  heathendom, 
enemies  of  saints  and  the  church. 

According  to  the  prophet  Ezekiel,  Gog  was  the  king 
of  Magog  ;  Magog  signifying  the  people,  and  Gog 
the  king  of  the  country.  They  are  names  that  loom 
vaguely  and  fearfully  in  the  dark  denunciations  of  the 
prophets,  and  in  the  olden  time  inspired  awe  through- 
out the  Eastern  world. 

The  Arabs,  says  Lane,  call  Gog  and  Magog,  Yajuj 
and  Majiij,  and  say  they  are  two  nations  or  tribes  de- 
scended from  Japhet,  the  son  of  Noah  ;  or,  as  others 
write,  Gog  is  a  tribe  of  the  Turks,  and  Magog  those 
of  Gilan  ;  the  Geli  and  the  Gelse  of  Ptolemy  and 
Strabo.  They  made  their  irruptions  into  the  neigh- 
boring countries  in  the  spring,  and  carried  off  all  the 
fruits  of  the  earth. — Sale's  Koran,  note  to  ch.  18. 

According  to  Moslem  belief,  a  great  irruption  of 
Gog  and  Magog  is  to  be  one  of  the  signs  of  the  latter 
days,  forerunning  the  resurrection  and  final  judgment. 
They  are  to  come  from  the  north  in  a  mighty  host, 
covering  the  land  as  a  cloud  ;  so  that  when  subdued, 
their  shields  and  bucklers,  their  bows  and  arrows  and 
quivers,  and  the  staves  of  their  spears,  shall  furnish 
the  faithful  with  fuel  for  seven  years. — All  which  is 
evidently  derived  from  the  book  of  the  prophet  Eze- 
kiel, with  which  Mahomet  had  been  made  acquainted 
by  his  Jewish  instructors. 

The  Koran  makes  mention  of  a  wall  built  as  a  pro- 
tection against  these  fearful  people  of  the  north  by 
Dhu'lkarneim,  or  the  Two  Horned  ;  by  whom  some 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Detachments  of  Moslems  under  different  lead- 
ers penetrated  the  defiles  of  these  mountains  and 
made  themselves  masters  of  the  Derbends,  or 
mountain  barriers.  One  of  the  most  important, 
and  which  cost  the  greatest  struggle,  was  a  city 
or  fortress  called  by  the  Persians  Der-bend  ;  by 
the  Turks  Demir-Capi  or  the  Gate  of  Iron,  and  by 
the  Arabs  Bab-el-abwab  (the  Gate  of  Gates).  It 
guards  a  defile  between  a  promontory  of  Mount 
Caucasus  and  the  Caspian  Sea.  A  superstitious 
belief  is  still  connected  with  it  by  the  Moslems. 
Originally  it  had  three  gates  ;  two  only  are  left  ; 
one  of  these  has  nearly  sunk  into  the  earth  ;  they 
say  when  it  disappears  the  day  of  judgment  will 
arrive. 

Abda'lrahman  Ibn  Rabah,  one  of  the  Moslem 
commanders  who  penetrated  the  defiles  of  the 
Caucasus,  was  appointed  by  Omar  to  the  com- 
mand of  the  Derbends  or  passes,  with  orders  to 
keep  vigilant  watch  over  them  ;  for  the  Caliph 
was  in  continual  solicitude  about  the  safety  of  the 
Moslems  on  these  remote  expeditions,  and  was 
fearful  that  the  Moslem  troops  might  be  swept 
away  by  some  irruption  from  the  north. 

Abda'lrahman,  with  the  approbation  of  the  Ca- 
H'ph,  made  a  compact  with  Shahr-Zad,  one  of  the 
native  chiefs,  by  which  the  latter,  in  consideration 
of  being  excused  from  paying  tribute,  undertook 
to  guard  the  Derbends  against  the  northern 
hordes.  The  Arab  general  had  many  conversa- 
tions with  Shahr-Zad  about  the  mountains,  which 
are  favored  regions  of  Persian  romance  and  fable. 
His  imagination  was  fired  with  what  he  was  told 
about  the  people  beyond  the  Derbends,  the  Allani 
and  the  Rus  ;  and  about  the  great  wall  or  barrier 
of  Yajuj  and  Majuj,  built  to  restrain  their  inroads. 

In  one  of  the  stories  told  by  Shahr-Zad,  the  read- 
er will  perceive  the  germ  of  one  of  the  Arabian 
tales  of  Sindbad  the  Sailor.  It  is  recorded  to  the 
following  purport  by  Tabari,  the  Persian  histo- 
rian :  "  One  day  as  Abda'lrahman  was  seated  by 
Shahr-Zad,  conversing  with  him,  he  perceived 
upon  his  finger  a  ring  decorated  with  a  ruby, 
which  burned  like  fire  in  the  daytime,  but  at  night 
was  of  dazzling  brilliancy.  '  It  came,'  said  Shahr- 
Zad,  '  from  the  wall  of  Yajuj  and  Majuj  ;  from  a 
king  whose  dominions  between  the  mountains  is 
traversed  by  the  wall.  I  sent  him  many  presents, 
and  asked  but  one  ruby  in  return.'  Seeing  the 

suppose  is  meant  Alexander  the  Great,  others  a  Per- 
sian king  of  the  first  race,  contemporary  with  Abra- 
ham. 

And  they  said,  O  Dhu'lkarneim,  verily,  Gog  and 
Magog  waste  the  land.  ...  He  answered,  I  will  set 
a  strong  wall  between  you  and  them.  Bring  me  iron 
in  large  pieces,  until  it  fill  up  the  space  between  the 
two  sides  of  these  mountains.  And  he  said  to  the 
workmen,  Blow  with  your  bellows  until  it  make  the 
iron  red  hot  ;  and  bring  me  molten  brass,  that  I  may 
pour  upon  it.  Wherefore,  when  this  wall  was 
finished,  Gog  and  Magog  could  not  scale  it,  neither 
could  they  dig  through  it.  — Sale's  Koran,  chap.  18. 

The  Czar  Peter  the  Great,  in  his  expedition  against 
the  Persians,  saw  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city  of 
Derbend,  which  was  then  besieged,  the  ruins  of  a  wall 
which  went  up  hill  and  down  dale,  along  the  Cauca- 
sus, and  was  said  to  extend  from  the  Euxine  to  the 
Caspian.  It  was  fortified  from  place  to  place,  by  tow- 
ers or  castles.  It  was  eighteen  Russian  stades  in 
height  ;  built  of  stones  laid  up  dry  ;  some  of  them 
three  ells  long  and  very  wide.  The  color  of  the 
stones,  and  the  traditions  of  the  country,  showed  it  to 
be  of  great  antiquity.  The  Arabs  and  Persians  said 
that  it  was  built  against  the  invasions  of  Gog  and 
Magog.— -See  Ttavels  in  the  East,  by  Sir  William 
Ouseley. 


curiosity  of  Abda'lrahman  aroused,  he  sent  for 
the  man  who  had  brought  the  ring,  and  com- 
manded him  to  relate  the  circumstances  of  his  er- 
rand. 

"  '  When  I  delivered  the  presents  and  the  let- 
ter of  Shahr-Zad  to  that  king,'  said  the  man,  '  he 
called  his  chief  falconer,  and  ordered  him  to  pro- 
cure the  jewel  required.  The  falconer  kept  an 
eagle  for  three  days  without  food,  until  he  was 
nearly  starved  ;  he  then  took  him  up  into  the 
mountains  near  the  wall,  and  I  accompanied  him. 
From  the  summit  of  one  of  these  mountains,  we 
looked  down  into  a  deep  dark  chasm  like  an 
abyss.  The  falconer  now  produced  a  piece  of 
tainted  meat  ;  threw  it  into  the  ravine,  and  let 
lopse  the  eagle.  He  swept  down  after  it ;  pounced 
upon  it  as  it  reached  the  ground,  and  returning 
with  it,  perched  upon  the  hand  of  the  falconer. 
The  ruby  which  now  shines  in  that  ring  was  found 
adhering  to  the  meat.' 

"  Abda'lrahman  asked  an  account  of  the  wall. 
'  It  is  built,"  replied  the  man,  '  of  stone,  iron,  and 
brass,  and  extends  down  one  mountain  and  up 
another.'  '  This,'  said  the  devout  and  all-believ- 
ing Abda'lrahman,  '  must  be  the  very  wall  of 
which  the  Almighty  makes  mention  in  the  Koran.' 
"  He  now  inquired  of  Shahr-Zad  what  was  the 
value  of  the  ruby.  '  No  one  knows  its  value,' 
was  the  reply  ;  '  though  presents  to  an  immense 
amount  had  been  made  in  return  for  it.'  Shahr- 
Zad  now  drew  the  ring  from  his  finger,  and  offer- 
ed "it  to  Abda'lrahman,  but  the  latter  refused  to 
accept  it,  saying  that  a  gem  of  that  value  was  not 
suitable  to  him.  '  Had  you  been  one  of  the  Per- 
sian kings,'  said  Shahr-Zad,  '  you  would  have 
taken  it  from  me  by  force  ;  but  men  who  conduct 
like  you  will  conquer  all  the  world.'  ' 

The  stories  which  he  had  heard  had  such  an 
effect  upon  Abda'lrahman,  that  he  resolved  to 
make  a  foray  into  the  mysterious  country  beyond 
the  Derbends.  Still  it  could  only  be  of  a  partial 
nature,  as  he  was  restrained  from  venturing  far 
by  the  cautious  injunctions  of  Omar.  "  Were  I 
not  fearful  of  displeasing  the  Caliph,"  said  he, 
"  I  would  push  forward  even  to  Yajuj  and  Majuj, 
and  make  converts  of  all  the  infidels." 

On  issuing  from  the  mountains,  he  found  him- 
self among  a  barbarous  people,  the  ancestors  of 
the  present  Turks,  who  inhabited  a  region  of 
country  between  the  Euxine  and  the  Caspian  seas. 
A  soldier  who  followed  Abda'lrahman  in  this 
foray  gave  the  following  account  of  these  people 
to  the  Caliph  on  his  return  to  Medina.  "  They 
were  astonished,"  said  he,  "  at  our  appearance, 
so  different  from  their  old  enemies  the  Persians, 
and  asked  us,  '  Are  you  angels  or  the  sons  of 
Adam  ?  '  to  which  we  replied,  we  are  sons  of 
Adam  ;  but  the  angels  of  heaven  are  on  our  side 
and  aid  us  in  our  warfare." 

The  infidels  forbore  to  assail  men  thus  pro- 
tected ;  one,  however,  more  shrewd  or  dubious 
than  the  rest,  stationed  himself  behind  a  tree, 
sped  an  arrow,  and  slew  a  Moslem.  The  delusion 
was  at  an  end  ;  the  Turks  saw  that  the  strangers 
were  mortal,  and  from  that  time  there  was  hard 
fighting.  Abda'lrahman  laid  siege  to  a  place 
called  Belandscher,  the  city  or  stronghold  of  the 
Bulgarians  or  Huns,  another  semi-barbarous  and 
warlike  people  like  the  Turks,  who,  like  them, 
ha/i  not  yet  made  themselves  world-famous  by 
their  conquering  migrations.  The  Turks  came  to 
the  aid  of  their  neighbors  ;  a  severe  battle  took 
place,  the  Moslems  were  defeated,  and  Abda'lrah- 
man paid  tor  his  daring  enterprise  and  romantic 
curiosity  with  his  life.  The  Turks,  who  still  ap- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


133 


pear  to  have  retained  a  superstitious  opinion  of 
their  unknown  invaders,  preserved  the  body  of  the 
unfortunate  general  as  a  relic,  and  erected  a 
shrine  in  honor  of  it,  at  which  they  used  to  put 
up  their  prayers  for  rain  in  time  of  drought. 

The  troops  of  Abda'lrahman  retreated  within 
the  Derbends  ;  his  brother  Selman  Ibn  Rabiah 
was  appointed  to  succeed  him  in  the  command  of 
the  Caucasian  passes,  and  thus  ended  the  unfortu- 
nate foray  into  the  land  of  Gog  and  Magog. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

THE  CALIPH  OMAR  ASSASSINATED  BY  A  FIRE- 
WORSHIPPER  —  HIS  CHARACTER  —  OTHMAN 
ELECTED  CALIPH. 

THE  life  and  reign  of  the  Caliph  Omar,  distin- 
guished by  such  great  and  striking  events,  were  at 
length  brought  to  a  sudden  and  sanguinary  end. 
Among  the  Persians  who  had  been  brought  as 
slaves  to  Medina,  was  one  named  Firuz,  ot  the 
sect  of  the  Magi,  or  fire-worshippers.  Being 
taxed  daily  by  his  master  two  pieces  of  silver  out 
of  his  earnings,  he  complained  of  it  to  Omar  as 
an  extortion.  The  Caliph  inquired  into  his  con- 
dition, and,  finding  that  he  was  a  carpenter,  and 
expert  in  the  construction  of  windmills,  replied, 
that  the  man  who  excelled  in  such  a  handicraft 
could  well  afford  to  pay  two  clirhems  a  day. 
"Then,"  muttered  Firuz,  "  I'll  constructa  wind- 
mill for  you  that  shall  keep  grinding  until  the  day 
of  judgment."  Omar  was  struck  with  his  menac- 
ing air.  "  The  slave  threatens  me,"  said  he, 
calmly.  "  If  I  were  disposed  to  punish  any  one 
on  suspicion,  I  should  take  off  his  head  ;"  he  suf- 
fered him,  however,  to  depart  without  further  no- 
tice. 

Three  days  afterward,  as  he  was  praying  in  the 
mosque,  Firuz  entered  suddenly  and  stabbed  him 
thrice  with  a  dagger.  The  attendants  rushed 
upon  the  assassin.  He  made  lurious  resistance, 
slew  some  and  wounded  others,  until  one  ot  his 
assailants  threw  his  vest  over  him  and  seized  him, 
upon  which  he  stabbed  himself  to  the  heart  and 
expired.  Religion  may  have  had  some  share  in 
prompting  this  act  of  violence  ;  perhaps  revenge 
for  the  ruin  brought  upon  his  native  country. 
"God  be  thanked,"  said  Omar,  "that  he  by 
whose  hand  it  was  decreed  I  should  fall,  was  not 
a  Moslem  !" 

The  Caliph  gathered  strength  sufficient  to  fin- 
ish the  prayer  in  which  he  had  been  interrupted  ; 
"for  he  who  deserts  his  prayers,"  said  he,  "is 
not  in  Islam."  Being  taken  to  his  house,  he 
languished  three  days  without  hope  of  recovery, 
but  could  not  be  prevailed  upon  to  nominate  a 
successor.  "  I  cannot  presume  to  do  that,"  said 
he,  "  which  the  prophet  himself  did  not  do." 
Some  suggested  that  he  should  nominate  his  son 
Abdallah.  "  Omar's  family,"  said  he,  "  has  had 
enough  in  Omar,  and  needs  no  more."  He  ap- 
pointed a  council  of  six  persons  to  determine  as 
to  the  succession  after  his  decease  ;  ail  of  whom 
he  considered  worthy  of  the  Caliphat  ;  though  he 
gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  choice  would  be 
either  Ali  or  Othman.  "  Shouldst  thou  become 
Caliph,"  said  he  to  Ali,  "  do  not  favor  thy  rela- 
tives above  all  others,  nor  place  the  house  of  Has- 
chem  on  the  neck  of  all  mankind  ;"  and  he  gave 
the  same  caution  to  Othman  in  respect  to  the 
family  of  Omeya. 


Calling  for  ink  and  paper,  he  wrote  a  letter  as 
his  last  testament,  to  whosoever  might  be  his 
successor,  lull  of  excellent  counsel  for  the  upright 
management  ot  affairs,  and  the  promotion  of  the 
faith.  He  charged  his  son  Abdallah  in  the  most 
earnest  manner,  as  one  of  the  highest  duties  of 
Islamism,  to  repay  eighteen  thousand  dirhems 
which  he  had  borrowed  out  of  the  public  treas- 
ury. All  present  protested  against  this  as  un- 
reasonable, since  the  money  had  been  expended 
in  relief  of  the  poor  and  destitute,  but  Omar  in- 
sisted  upon  it  as  his  last  will.  He  then  sent  to 
Avesha  and  procured  permission  of  her  to  be  bu- 
ried next  to  her  father  Abu  Beker. 

Ibn  Abbas  and  Ali  now  spoke  to  him  in  words 
of  comfort,  setting  forth  thet  blessings  of  Islam, 
which  had  crowned  his  administration,  and  that 
he  would  leave  no  one  behind  him  who  could 
charge  him  with  injustice.  "  Testify  this  for 
me,"  said  he,  earnestly,  "  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment." They  gave  him  their  hands  in  promise  ; 
but  he  exacted  that  they  should  give  him  a  written 
testimonial,  and  that  it  should  be  buried  with 
him  in  the  grave. 

Having  settled  all  his  worldly  affairs,  and  given 
directions  about  his  sepulture,  he  expired,  the 
seventh  day  after  his  assassination,  in  the  sixty- 
third  year  of  his  age,  alter  a  triumphant  reign  of 
ten  years  and  six  months. 

His  death  was  rashly  and  bloodily  revenged. 
Mahomet  Ibn  Abu  Beker,  the  brother  of  Ayesha, 
and  imbued  with  her  mischief-making  propensity, 
persuaded  Abdallah,  the  son  of  Omar,  that  his 
lather's  murder  was  the  result  of  a  conspiracy  ; 
Firuz  having  been  instigated  to  the  act  by  his 
daughter  Lulu,  a  Christian  named  Dschoieine, 
and  Hormuzan,  the  once  haughty  and  magnifi- 
cent satrap  of  Susiana.  In  the  transport  of  his 
rage,  and  instigated  by  the  old  Arab  principle  o{ 
blood  revenge,  Abdallah  slew  all  three  of  the  ac- 
cused, without  reflecting  on  the  improbability  of 
Hormuzan,  at  least,  being  accessory  to  the  mur- 
der ;  being,  since  his  conversion,  in  close  friend- 
ship with  the  late  Caliph,  and  his  adviser,  on 
many  occasions,  in  the  prosecution  of  the  Persian 
war. 

The  whole  history  of  Omar  shows  him  to  have 
been  a  man  of  great  powers  of  mind,  inflexible 
integrity,  and  rigid  justice.  He  was,  more  than 
any  one  else,  the  founder  of  the  Islam  empire  ; 
confirming  and  carrying  out  the  inspirations  of 
the  prophet  ;  aiding  Abu  Beker  with  his  counsels 
during  his  brief  Caliphat  ;  and  establishing  wise 
regulations  lor  the  strict  administration  of  the 
laws  throughout  the  rapidly-extending  bounds  of 
the  Moslem  conquests.  The  rigid  hand  which  he 
kept  upon  his  most  popular  generals  in  the  midst 
of  their  armies,  and  in  the  most  distant  scenes  of 
their  triumphs,  give  signal  evidence  of  his  ex- 
traordinary capacity  to  rule.  In  the  simplicity  of 
his  habits,  and  his  contempt  for  all  pomp  and  lux- 
ury, he  emulated  the  example  of  the  prophet  and 
Abu  Beker.  He  endeavored  incessantly  to  im- 
press the  merit  and  policy  of  the  same  in  his  let- 
ters to  his  generals.  "  Beware,"  he  would  say, 
"  of  Persian  luxury,  both  in  food  and  raiment. 
Keep  to  the  simple  habits  of  your  country,  and 
Allah  will  continue  you  victorious  ;  depart  from 
them,  and  he  will  reverse  your  lortunes."  It  was 
his  strong  conviction  of  the  truth  of  this  policy, 
which  made  him  so  severe  in  punishing  all  osten- 
tatious style  and  luxurious  indulgence  in  his  offi- 
cers. 

Some  of  his  ordinances  do  credit  to  his  heart 
as  well  as  his  head.  He  forbade  that  any  female 


134 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


captive  who  had  borne  a  child  should  be  sold  as 
a  slave.  In  his  weekly  distributions  of  the  sur- 
plus money  of  his  treasury  he  proportioned  them 
to  the  wants,  not  the  merits  oi  the  applicants. 
"  God,"  said  he,  "  has  bestowed  the  good  things 
^i  this  world  to  relieve  our  necessities,  not  to  re- 
ward our  virtues  :  those  will  be  rewarded  in 
another  world." 

One  of  the  early  measures  of  his  reign  was  the 
assigning  pensions  to  the  most  faithful  compan- 
ions of  the  prophet,  and  those  who  had  signalized 
themselves  in  the  early  service  of  the  faith.  Ab- 
bas, the  uncle  of  the  prophet,  had  a  yearly  pen- 
sion of  200,000  dirhems  ;  others  of  his  relatives  in 
graduated  proportions  ;  those  veterans  who  had 
fought  in  the  battle  of  Beder  5000  dirhems  ;  pen- 
sions of  less  amount  to  those  who  had  distin- 
guished themselves  in  Syria,  Persia,  and  Egypt. 
Each  of  the  prophet's  wives  was  allowed  ten  thou- 
sand dirhems  yearly,  and  Ayesha  twelve  thou- 
sand. Hasan  and  Hosein,  the  sons  of  AH  and 
grandsons  of  the  prophet,  had  each  a  pension  of 
five  thousand  dirhems.  On  any  one  who  found 
fault  with  these  disbursements  out  of  the  public 
wealth,  Omar  invoked  the  curse  of  Allah. 

He  was  the  first  to  establish  a  chamber  of  ac- 
counts or  exchequer  ;  the  first  to  date  events  from 
the  Hegira  or  flight  of  the  prophet  ;  and  the  first 
to  introduce  a  coinage  into  the  Moslem  domin- 
ions ;  stamping  the  coins  with  the  name  of  the 
reigning  Caliph,  and  the  words,  "  There  is  no 
God  but  God." 

During  his  reign,  we  are  told,  there  were  thirty- 
six  thousand  towns,  castles,  and  strongholds 
taken  ;  but  he  was  not  a  wasteful  conqueror.  He 
founded  new  cities,  established  important  marts, 
built  innumerable  mosques,  and  linked  the  newly 
acquired  provinces  into  one  vast  empire  by  his 
iron  inflexibility  of  purpose.  As  has  well  been 
observed,  "  His  Caliphat,  crowned  with  the  glories 
of  its  triple  conquest  of  Syria,  Persia,  and  Egypt, 
deserves  to  be  distinguished  as  the  heroic  age  of 
Saracen  history.  The  gigantic  foundations  of  the 
Saracenic  power  were  perfected  in  the  short 
space  of  less  than  ten  years."  Let  it  be  remem- 
bered, moreover,  that  this  great  conqueror,  this 
great  legislator,  this  magnanimous  sovereign, 
was  originally  a  rude,  half-instructed  Arab  of 
Mecca.  Well  may  we  say  in  regard  to  the  early 
champions  of  Islam,  "  There  were  giants  in  those 
days." 

After  the  death  of  Omar  the  six  persons  met  to- 
gether whom  he  had  named  as  a  council  to  elect 
his  successor.  They  were  Ali,  Othman,  Telha,  Ibn 
Obeid'allah  (Mahomet's  son-in-law),  Zobeir,  Ab- 
da'lrahman,  Ibn  Awf,  andSaad  Ibn  Abu  Wakkas. 
They  had  all  been  personally  intimate  with  Ma- 
homet, and  were  therefore  styled  THE  COMPAN- 
IONS. 

After  much  discussion  and  repeated  meetings 
the  Caliphat  was  offered  to  Ali,  on  condition  that 
he  would  promise  to  govern  according  to  the  Ko- 
ran and  the  traditions  of  Mahomet,  and  the  reg- 
ulations established  by  the  two  seniors  or  elders, 
meaning  the  two  preceding  Caliphs,  Abu  Beker 
and  Omar. 

Ali  replied  that  he  would  govern  according  to 
the  Koran  and  the  authentic  traditions  ;  but 
would,  in  all  other  respects,  act  according  to  his 
own  judgment,  without  reference  to  the  example 
of  the  seniors.  This  reply  not  being  satisfactory 
to  the  council,  they  made  the  same  proposal  to 
Othman  Ibn  Affan,  who  assented  to  all  the  condi- 
tions, and  was  immediately  elected,  and  installed 
three  days  after  the  death  of  his  predecessor.  He 


was  seventy  years  of  age  at  the  time  of  his  elec- 
tion. He  was  tall  and  swarthy,  and  his  long  gray 
beard  was  tinged  with  henna.  He  was  strict  in 
his  religious  duties  ;  fasting,  meditating,  and 
studying  the  Koran  ;  not  so  simple  in  his  habits 
as  his  predecessors,  but  prone  to  expense  and  lav- 
ish of  his  riches.  His  bountiful  spirit,  however, 
was  evinced  at  times  in  a  way  that  gained  him 
much  popularity.  In  a  time  of  famine  he  had 
supplied  the  poor  of  Medina  with  corn.  He  had 
purchased  at  great  cost  the  ground  about  the 
mosque  of  Medina,  to  give  room  for  houses  for 
the  prophet's  wives.  He  had  contributed  six 
hundred  and  fifty  camels  and  fifty  horses  for  the 
campaign  against  Tabuc. 

He  derived  much  respect  among  zealous  Mos- 
lems for  having  married  two  of  the  prophet's 
daughters,  and  for  having  been  in  both  of  the 
Hegiras  or  flights,  the  first  into  Abyssinia,  the 
second,  the  memorable  flight  to  Medina.  Ma- 
homet used  to  say  of  him,  "  Each  thing  has  its 
mate,  and  each  man  his  associate  :  my  associate 
in  paradise  is  Othman." 

Scarcely  was  the  new  Caliph  installed  in  office 
when  the  retaliatory  punishment  prescribed  by 
the  law  was  invoked  upon  Obeid'allah,  the  son  of 
Omar,  for  the  deaths  so  rashly  inflicted  on  those 
whom  he  had  suspected  of  instigating  his  father's 
assassination.  Othman  was  perplexed  between 
the  letter  of  the  law  and  the  odium  of  following 
the  murder  of  the  father  by  the  execution  of  the 
son.  He  was  kindly  relieved  from  his  perplexity 
by  the  suggestion,  that  as  the  act  of  Obeid'allan 
took  place  in  the  interregnum  between  the  Cal- 
iphats  of  Omar  and  Othman,  it  did  not  come  un- 
der the  cognizance  of  either.  Othman  gladly 
availed  himself  of  the  quibble  ;  Obeid'allah  es- 
caped unpunished,  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  once 
magnificent  Hormuzan  and  his  fellow-victims  re» 
mained  unavenged. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

CONCLUSION  OF  THE  PERSIAN  CONQUEST— FLIGHT 
AND   DEATH    OF   YEZDEG1RD. 

THE  proud  empire  of  the  Khosrus  had  received 
its  death-blow  during  the  vigorous  Caliphat  of 
Omar  ;  what  signs  of  life  it  yet  gave  were  but  its 
dying  struggles.  The  Moslems,  led  by  able  gen- 
erals, pursued  their  conquests  in  different  direc- 
tions. Some,  turning  to  the  west,  urged  their 
triumphant  way  through  ancient  Assyria  ;  cross- 
ed Ihe  Tigris  by  the  bridge  of  Mosul,  passing  the 
ruins  of  mighty  Nineveh  as  unheedingly  as  they 
had  passed  those  of  Babylon  ;  completed  the  sub- 
jugation of  Mesopotamia,  and  planted  their  stand- 
ards beside  those  of  their  brethren  who  had 
achieved  the  conquest  of  Syria. 

Others  directed  their  course  into  the  southern 
and  eastern  provinces,  following  the  retreating 
steps  of  Yezdegird.  A  fiat  issued  by  the  late  Ca- 
liph Omar  had  sealed  the  doom  of  that  unhappy 
monarch.  "  Pursue  the  fugitive  king  wherever 
he  may  go,  until  you  have  driven  him  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  !" 

Yezdegird,  after  abandoning  Rei,  had  led  a 
wandering  life,  shifting  from  city  to  city  and 
province  to  province,  still  flying  at  the  approach 
of  danger.  At  one  time  we  hear  of  him  in  the 
splendid  city  of  Ispahan  ;  next  among  the  moun- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


135 


tains  of  Farsistan,  the  original  Persis,  the  cradle 
of  the  conquerors  of  Asia  ;  and  it  is  another  of 
the  lessons  furnished  by  history,  to  see  the  last  of 
the  Khosrus  a  fugitive  among  those  mountains 
whence,  in  foregone  times,  Cyrus  had  led  his 
hardy  but  frugal  and  rugged  bands  to  win,  by 
force  of  arms,  that  vast  empire  which  was  now 
falling  to  ruin  through  its  effeminate  degen- 
eracy. 

For  a  time  the  unhappy  monarch  halted  in 
Istakar,  the  pride  ot  Persia,  where  the  tottering 
remains  of  Persepolis,  and  its  hall  of  a  thousand 
columns,  speak  of  the  ancient  glories  of  the  Per- 
sian kings.  Here  Yezdegird  had  been  fostered 
and  concealed  during  his  youthful  days,  and  here 
he  came  near  being  taken  among  the  relics  of 
Persian  magnificence. 

From  Farsistan  he  was  driven  to  Kerman,  the 
ancient  Carmania  ;  thence  into  Khorassan,  in  the 
northern  part  of  which  vast  province  he  took 
breath  at  the  city  of  Merv,  or  Merou,  on  the  re- 
mote boundary  of  Bactriana.  In  all  his  wander- 
ings he  was  encumbered  by  the  shattered  pageant 
of  an  oriental  court,  a  worthless  throng  which 
had  fled  with  him  Irom  Madayn,  and  which  he 
had  no  means  of  supporting.  At  Merv  he  had 
four  thousand  persons  in  his  train,  all  minions  of 
the  palace,  useless  hangers-on,  porters,  grooms, 
and  slaves,  together  with  his  wives  and  concu- 
bines, and  their  female  attendants. 

In  this  remote  halting-place  he  devoted  himself 
to  building  a  fire-temple  ;  in  the  mean  time  he 
wrote  letters  to  such  of  the  cities  and  provinces 
as  were  yet  unconquered,  exhorting  his  governors 
and  generals  to  defend,  piece  by  piece,  the  frag- 
ments of  empire  which  he  had  deserted. 

The  city  of  Ispahan,  one  of  the  brightest  jewels 
of  his  crown,  was  well  garrisoned  by  wrecks  of 
the  army  of  Nehavend,  and  might  have  made 
brave  resistance  ;  but  its  governor,  Kadeskan, 
staked  the  fortunes  of  the  place  upon  a  single 
combat  with  the  Moslem  commander  who  had  in- 
vested it,  and  capitulated  at  the  first  shock  of 
lances  ;  probably  through  some  traitorous  ar- 
rangement. 

Ispahan  has  never  recovered  from  that  blow. 
Modern  travellers  speak  of  its  deserted  streets,  its 
abandoned  palaces,  its  silent  bazaars.  "  I  have 
ridden  for  miles  among  its  ruins,"  says  one, 
"  without  meeting  any  living  creature,  excepting 
perhaps  a  jackal  peeping  over  a  wall,  or  a  fox 
running  into  his  hole.  Now  and  then  an  inhab- 
ited house  was  to  be  seen,  the  owner  of  which 
might  be  assimilated  to  Job's  forlorn  man  dwell- 
ing in  desolate  cities,  and  in  houses  which  no 
man  inhabiteth  ;  which  are  ready  to  become 
heaps." 

Istakar  made  a  nobler  defence.  The  national 
pride  of  the  Persians  was  too  much  connected 
with  this  city,  once  their  boast,  to  let  it  fall  with- 
out a  struggle.  There  was  another  gathering  of 
troops  from  various  parts  ;  one  hundred  and  twen- 
ty thousand  are  said  to  have  united  under  the 
standard  ol  Shah-reg,  the  patriotic  governor.  It 
was  all  in  vain.  The  Persians  were  again  de- 
feated in  a  bloody  battle  ;  Shah-reg  was  slain, 
and  Istakar,  the  ancient  Persepolis,  once  almost 
the  mistress  of  the  Eastern  world,  was  compelled 
to  pay  tribute  to  the  Arabian  Caliph. 

The  course  of  Moslem  conquest  now  turned  into 
the  vast  province  of  Khorassan  ;  subdued  one  part 
of  it  after  another,  and  approached  the  remote  re- 
gion where  Yezdegird  had  taken  refuge.  Driven 
to  the  boundaries  ot  his  dominions,  the  fugitive 
monarch  crossed  the  Oxus  (the  ancient  Gihon) 


and  the  sandy  deserts  beyond,  and  threw  himself 
among  the  shepherd  hordes  of  Scythia.  His 
wanderings  are  said  to  have  extended  to  the  bor- 
ders of  Tshin,  or  China,  from  the  emperor  of 
which  he  sought  assistance. 

Obscurity  hangs  over  this  part  of  his  story  :  it 
is  affirmed  that  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  aid 
from  the  great  Khan  of  the  Tartars,  and  re-cross- 
ing the  Gihon  was  joined  by  the  troops  of  Balkh 
or  Bactria,  which  province  was  still  unsubdued 
and  loyal.  With  these  he  endeavored  to  make 
a  stand  against  his  unrelenting  pursuers.  A 
slight  reverse,  or  some  secret  treachery,  put 
an  end  to  the  adhesion  of  his  barbarian  ally. 
The  Tartar  chief  returned  with  his  troops  to 
Turkestan. 

Yezdegird's  own  nobles,  tired  of  following  his 
desperate  fortunes,  now  conspired  to  betray  him 
and  his  treasures  into  the  hands  of  the  Moslems 
as  a  pri(?e  for  their  own  safety.  He  was  at  that 
time  at  Merv,  or  Merou,  on  the  Oxus,  called 
Merou  al  Roud,  or"  Merou  of  the  River,"  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  Merou  in  Khorassan.  Discover- 
ing the  intended  treachery  of  his  nobles,  and  of  the 
governor  of  the  place,  he  caused  his  slaves  to  let 
him  down  with  cords  from  a  window  of  his  pal- 
ace and  fled,  alone  and  on  foot,  under  cover  of  the 
night.  At  the  break  of  day  he  found  himself  near 
a  mill,  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  only  eight  miles 
from  the  city,  and  offered  the  miller  his  ring  and 
bracelets,  enriched  with  gems,  it  he  would  ferry 
him  across  the  stream.  The  boor,  who  knew 
nothing  of  jewels,  demanded  four  silver  oboli,  or 
drachms,  the  amount  ot  a  day's  earnings,  as  a 
compensation  for  leaving  his  work.  While  they 
were  debating  a  party  ot  horsemen  who  were  in 
pursuit  of  the  king,  came  up  and  clove  him  with 
their  scimetars.  Another  account  states  that, 
exhausted  and  fatigued  with  the  weight  of  his  em- 
broidered garments,  he  sought  rest  and  conceal- 
ment in  the  mill,  and  that  the  miller  spread  a 
mat,  on  which  he  laid  down  and  slept.  His  rich 
attire,  however,  his  belt  of  gold  studded  with 
jewels,  his  rings  and  bracelets,  excited  the  av- 
arice of  the  miller,  who  slew  him  with  an  axe 
while  he  slept,  and,  having  stripped  the  body, 
threw  it  into  the  water.  In  the  morning  several 
horsemen  in  search  of  him  arrived  at  the  mill, 
where  discovering,  by  his  clothes  and  jewels,  that 
he  had  been  murdered,  they  put  the  miller  to 
death. 

This  miserable  catastrophe  to  a  miserable  ca- 
reer is  said  to  have  occurred  on  the  23d  August, 
in  the  year  651  of  the  Christian  era.  Yezdegird 
was  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his  age,  having 
reigned  nine  years  previous  to  the  battle  of  Ne- 
havend, and  since  that  event  having  been  ten. 
years  a  fugitive.  History  lays  no  crimes  to  his 
charge,  yet  his  hard  fortunes  and  untimely  end 
have  failed  to  awaken  the  usual  interest  and  sym- 
pathy. He  had  been  schooled  in  adversity  from 
his  early  youth,' yet  he  failed  to  profit  by  it.  Car- 
rying about  with  him  the  wretched  relics  of  an 
effeminate  court,  he  sought  only  his  personal 
safety,  and  wanted  the  courage  and  magnanimity 
to  throw  himself  at  the  head  of  his  armies,  and 
battle  for  his  crown  and  country  like  a  great  sov- 
ereign and  a  patriot  prince. 

Empires,  however,  like  all  other  things,  have 
their  allotted  time,  and  die,  if  not  by  violence,  at 
length  of  imbecility  and  old  age.  That  ot  Persia 
had  long  since  lost  its  stamina,  and  the  energy  of 
a  Cyrus  would  have  been  unable  to  intuse  new 
life  into  its  gigantic  but  palsied  limbs.  At  the 
death  of  Yezdegird  it  fell  under  the  undisputed 


136 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


sway  oT  the  Caliphs,  and  became  little  better  than 
a  subject  province.* 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

AMRU  DISPLACED  FROM  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF 
EGYPT — REVOLT  OF  THE  INHABITANTS — ALEX- 
ANDRIA RETAKEN  BY  THE  IMPERIALISTS — AM- 
RU REINSTATED  IN  COMMAND — RETAKES  ALEX- 
ANDRIA, AND  TRANQUILLIZES  EGYPT — IS  AGAIN 
DISPLACED  —  ABDALLAH  1BN  SAAD  INVADES 
THE  NORTH  OF  AFRICA. 

"  IN  the  conquests  of  Syria,  Persia,  and  Egypt," 
says  a  modern  writer,  "  the  fresh  and  vigorous 
enthusiasm  of  the  personal  companions  and  pros- 
elytes of  Mahomet  was  exercised  and  expended, 
and  the  generation  of  warriors  whose  simple  fa- 
naticism had  been  inflamed  by  the  preaching  of 
the  pseudo  prophet,  was  in  a  great  measure  con- 
sumed in  the  sanguinary  and  perpetual  toils  of 
ten  arduous  campaigns." 

We  shall  now  see  the  effect  of  those  conquests 
on  the  national  character  and  habits  ;  the  avidity 
of  place  and  power  and  wealth  superseding  re- 
ligious enthusiasm  ;  and  the  enervating  luxury 
and  soft  voluptuousness  of  Syria  and  Persia  sap- 
ping the  rude  but  masculine  simplicity  of  the 
Arabian  desert.  Above  all,  the  single-minded- 
ness  of  Mahomet  and  his  two  immediate  success- 
ors is  at  an  end.  Other  objects  beside  the  mere 
advancement  of  Islamism  distract  the  attention  of 
its  leading  professors  ;  and  the  struggle  for 
worldly  wealth  and  worldly  sway,  for  the  ad- 
vancement of  private  ends,  and  the  aggrandize- 
.ment  of  particular  tribes  and  families,  destroy 
the  unity  of  the  empire,  and  beset  the  Caliphal 
with  intrigue,  treason,  and  bloodshed. 

It  was  a  great  matter  of  reproach  against  the 
Caliph  Othman  that  he  was  injudicious  in  his  ap- 
pointments, and  had  an  inveterate  propensity  to 
consult  the  interests  of  his  relatives  and  friends 
before  that  of  the  public.  One  of  his  greatest  er- 
rors in  this  respect  was  the  removal  of  Amru  Ibn 
Al  Aass  from  the  government  of  Egypt,  and  the 
appointment  of  his  own  foster-brother,  Abdallah 
Ibn  Saad,  in  his  place.  This  was  the  same  Ab- 
dallah who,  in  acting  as  amanuensis  to  Mahomet, 
and  writing  down  his  revelations,  had  interpo- 
lated passages  of  his  own,  sometimes  of  a  ludi- 
crous nature.  For  this  and  for  his  apostasy  he 
had  been  pardoned  by  Mahomet  at  the  solicitation 
of  Othman,  and  had  ever  since  acted  with  appar- 
ent zeal,  his  interest  coinciding  with  his  duty. 

He  was  of  a  courageous  spirit,  and  one  of  the 
most  expert  horsemen  of  Arabia  ;  but  what  might 
have  fitted  him  to  command  a  horde  of  the  des- 
ert was  insufficient  for  the  government  of  a  con- 
quered province.  He  was  new  and  inexperienced 
in  his  present  situation  ;  whereas  Amru  had  dis- 


.  *  According  to  popular  traditions  in  Persia,  Yezde- 
gird,  in  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  took  refuge  for 
a  time  in  the  castle  of  Fahender,  near  Schiraz,  and 
buried  the  crown  jewels  and  treasures  of  Nushirwan, 
in  a  deep  pit  or  well  under  the  castle,  where  they  still 
remain  guarded  by  a  talisman,  so  that  they  cannot  be 
found  or  drawn  forth.  Others  say  that  he  had  them 
removed  and  deposited  in  trust  with  the  Khacan,  or 
emperor  of  Chin  or  Tartary.  After  the  extinction  of 
the  royal  Persian  dynasty,  those  treasures  and  the 
crown  remained  in  Chin. — Sir  William  Oitseley's 
-Travels  in  the  East,  vol.  ii.  p.  34. 


tinguished  himself  as  a  legislator  as  well  as  a 
conqueror,  and  had  already  won  the  affections  of 
the  Egyptians  by  his  attention  to  their  interests, 
and  his  respect  for  their  customs  and  habitudes. 
His  dismission  was,  therefore,  resented  by  the 
people,  and  a  disposition  was  manifested  to  revolt 
against  the  new  governor. 

The  emperor  Constantine,  who  had  succeeded  to 
his  father  Heraclius,  hastened  to  take  advantage 
of  these  circumstances.  A  fleet  and  army  were 
sent  against  Alexandria  under  a  prefect  named 
Manuel.  The  Greeks  in  the  city  secretly  co- 
operated with  him,  and  the  metropolis  was, 
partly  by  force  of  arms,  partly  by  treachery,  re- 
captured by  the  imperialists  without  much  blood- 
shed. 

Othman,  made  painfully  sensible  of  the  error 
he  had  committed,  hastened  to  revoke  the  ap- 
pointment of  his  foster-brother,  and  reinstated 
Amru  in  the  command  in  Egypt.  That  able  gen- 
eral went  instantly  against  Alexandria  with  an 
army,  in  which  were  many  Copts,  irreconcilable 
enemies  of  the  Greeks.  Among  these  was  the 
traitor  Makawkas,  who,  from  his  knowledge  of  the 
country  and  his  influence  among  its  inhabitants, 
was  able  to  procure  abundant  supplies  for  the 
army. 

The  Greek  garrison  defended  the  city  bravely 
and  obstinately.  Amru,  enraged  at  having  thus 
again  to  lay  siege  to  a  place  which  he  had  twice 
already  taken,  swore,  by  Allah,  that  if  he  should 
master  it  a  third  time,  he  would  render  it  as  easy 
of  access  as  a  brothel.  He  kept  his  word,  for 
when  he  took  the  city  he  threw  down  the  walls 
and  demolished  all  the  fortifications.  He  was 
merciful,  however,  to  the  inhabitants,  and  check- 
ed the  fury  of  the  Saracens,  who  were  slaughtering 
all  they  met.  A  mosque  was  afterward  erected 
on  the  spot  at  which  he  stayed  the  carnage,  called 
the  Mosque  of  Mercy.  Manuel,  the  Greek  gen- 
eral, found  it  expedient  to  embark  with  all  speed 
with  such  of  his  troops  as  he  could  save,  and 
make  sail  for  Constantinople. 

Scarce,  however,  had  Amru  quelled  every  in- 
surrection and  secured  the  Moslem  domination  in 
Egypt,  when  he  was  again  displaced  from  the 
government,  and  Abdallah  Ibn  Saad  appointed  a 
second  time  in  his  stead. 

Abdallah  had  been  deeply  mortified  by  the  loss 
of  Alexandria,  which  had  been  ascribed  to  his  in- 
capacity ;  he  was  emulous  too  of  the  renown  of 
Amru,  and  felt  the  necessity  of  vindicating  his 
claims  to  command  by  some  brilliant  achieve- 
ment. The  north  of  Africa  presented  a  new  field 
for  Moslem  enterprise.  We  allude  to  that  vast 
tract  extending  west  from  the  desert  of  Libya  or 
Barca,  to  Cape  Non,  embracing  more  than  two 
thousand  miles  of  sea-coast  ;  comprehending 
the  ancient  divisions  of  Mamarica,  Cyrenaica, 
Carthage,  Numidia,  and  Mauritania  ;  or,  accord- 
ing to  modern  geographical  designations,  Barca, 
Tripoli,  Tunis,  Algiers,  and  Morocco. 

A  few  words  respecting  the  historical  vicissi- 
tudes of  this  once  powerful  region  may  not  be  in- 
appropriate. The  original  inhabitants  are  sup- 
posed to  have  come  at  a  remote  time  .rom  Asia  ; 
or  rather,  it  is  said  that  an  influx  of  Arabs  drove 
the  original  inhabitants  from  the  sea-coast  to  the 
mountains,  and  the  borders  of  the  interior  desert, 
and  continued  their  nomade  and  pastoral  life 
along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  Abo-  t 
nine  hundred  years  before  the  Christian  era,  the 
Phoenicians  of  Tyre  founded  colonies  along  the 
coast  ;  of  these  Carthage  was  the  greatest.  By 
degrees  it  extended  its  influence  along  the  African 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


13? 


shores  and  the  opposite  coast  of  Spain,  and  rose 
in  prosperity  and  power  until  it  became  a  rival 
republic  to  Rome.  On  the  wars  between  Rome 
and  Carthage  it  is  needless  to  dilate.  They  end- 
ed in  the  downfall  of  the  Carthaginian  republic 
and  the  domination  of  Rome  over  Northern  Af- 
rica. 

This  domination  continued  for  about  four  cen- 
turies, until  the  Roman  prefect  Bonifacius  invited 
over  the  Vandals  from  Spain  to  assist  him  in  a 
feud  with  a  political  rival.  The  invitation  proved 
fatal  to  Roman  ascendency.  The  Vandals,  aided 
by  the  Moors  and  Berbers,  and  by  numerous 
Christian  sectarians  recently  expelled  from  the 
Catholic  Church,  aspired  to  gain  possession  of  the 
country,  and  succeeded.  Genseric,  the  Vandal 
general,  captured  and  pillaged  Carthage,  and  hav- 
ing subjugated  Northern  Africa,  built  a  navy,  in- 
vaded Italy,  and  sacked  Rome.  The  domination 
of  the  Vandals  by  sea  and  land  lasted  above  half 
a  century.  In  533  and  534  Africa  was  regained 
by  Belisarius,  for  the  Roman  empire,  and  the 
Vandals  were  driven  out  of  the  land.  After  the 
departure  of  Belisarius  the  Moors  rebelled  and 
made  repeated  attempts  to  get  the  dominion,  but 
were  as  often  defeated  with  great  loss,  and  the 
Roman  sway  was  once  more  established. 

All  these  wars  and  changes  had  a  disastrous 
effect  on  the  African  provinces.  The  Vandals 
had  long  disappeared  ;  many  of  the  Moorish  fam- 
ilies had  been  extirpated  ;  the  wealthy  inhabitants 
had  fled  to  Sicily  and  Constantinople,  and  a 
stranger  might  wander  whole  days  over  regions 
once  covered  with  towns  and  cities,  and  teeming 
with  population,  without  meeting  a  human  being. 

For  near  a  century  the  country  remained  sunk 
in  apathy  and  inaction,  until  now  it  was  to  be 
roused  from  its  torpor  by  the  all-pervading  armies 
of  Islam. 

Soon  after  the  reappointment  of  Abdallah  to 
the  government  of  Egypt,  he  set  out  upon  the 
conquest  of  this  country,  at  the  head  of  forty 
thousand  Arabs.  After  crossing  the  western 
boundary  of  Egypt  he  had  to  traverse  the  desert 
of  Libya,  but  his  army  was  provided  with  camels 
accustomed  to  the  sandy  wastes  of  Arabia,  and, 
after  a  toilsome  march,  he  encamped  before  the 
walls  of  Tripoli,  then,  as  now,  one  of  the  most 
wealthy  and  powerful  cities  of  the  Barbary  coast. 
The  place  was  well  fortified,  and  made  good  re- 
sistance. A  body  of  Greek  troops  which  were 
sent  to  reinforce  it  were  surprised  by  the  be- 
siegers on  the  sea-coast,  and  dispersed  with 
great  slaughter. 

The  Roman  prefect  Gregorius  having  assem- 
bled an  army  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  thou- 
sand men,  a  great  proportion  of  whom  were  the 
hastily  levied  and  undisciplined  tribes  of  Bar- 
bary, advanced  to  defend  his  province.  He  was 
accompanied  by  an  Amazonian  daughter  of  won- 
derful beauty,  who  had  been  taught  to  manage 
the  horse,  to  draw  the  bow,  and  wield  the  scime- 
tar,  and  who  was  always  at  her  father's  side  in 
battle. 

Hearing  of  the  approach  of  this  army,  Abdal- 
lah suspended  the  siege  and  advanced  to  meet  it. 
A  brief  parley  took  place  between  the  hostile 
commanders.  Abdallah  proposed  the  usual  al- 
ternatives, profession  of  Islamism  or  payment  of 
tribute.  Both  were  indignantly  rejected.  The 
armies  engaged  before  the  walls  of  Tripoli.  Ab- 
dallah, whose  fame  was  staked  on  this  enterprise, 
stimulated  his  troops  by  word  and  example,  and 
charged  the  enemy  repeatedly  at  the  head  of  his 
squadrons.  Wherever  he  pressed  the  fortune  of 


the  day  would  incline  in  favor  of  the  Moslems  ; 
but  on  the  other  hand  Gregorius  fought  with  des- 
perate bravery,  as  the  fate  of  the  province  depend- 
ed on  this  conflict  ;  and  wherever  he  appeared  his 
daughter  was  at  his  side,  dazzling  all  eyes  by  the 
splendor  of  her  armor  and  the  heroism  of  her 
achievements.  The  contest  was  long,  arduous, 
and  uncertain.  It  was  not  one  drawn  battle,  but 
a  succession  of  conflicts,  extending  through  sev- 
eral days,  beginning  at  early  dawn,  but  ceasing 
toward  noon,  when  the  intolerable  heat  of  the  sun 
obliged  both  armies  to  desist  and  seek  the  shade 
of  their  tents. 

The  prefect  Gregorius  was  exasperated  at  be- 
ing in  a  manner  held  at  bay  by  an  inferior  force, 
which  he  had  expected  to  crush  by  the  superiority 
of  numbers.  Seeing  that  Abdallah  was  the  life 
and  soul  of  his  army,  he  proclaimed  a  reward  of 
one  hundred  thousand  pieces  of  gold  and  the  hand 
of  his  daughter  to  the  warrior  who  should  bring 
him  his  head. 

The  excitement  caused  among  the  Grecian  youth 
by  this  tempting  prize  made  the  officers  of  Abdal- 
lah tremble  for  his  safety.  They  represented  to 
him  the  importance  of  his  life  to  the  army  and  the 
general  cause,  and  prevailed  upon  him  to  keep 
aloof  from  the  field  of  battle.  His  absence,  how- 
ever produced  an  immediate  change,  and  the 
valor  of  his  troops,  hitherto  stimulated  by  his 
presence,  began  to  languish. 

Zobeir,  a  noble  Arab  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish, 
arrived  at  the  field  of  battle  with  a  small  reinforce- 
ment, in  the  heat  of  one  of  the  engagements.  He 
found  the  troops  fighting  to  a  disadvantage,  and 
looked  round  in  vain  for  the  general.  Being  told 
that  he  was  in  his  tent,  he  hastened  thither  and 
reproached  him  with  his  inactivity.  Abdallah 
blushed,  but  explained  the  reason  of  his  remain- 
ing passive.  ".Retort  on  the  infidel  commander 
his  perfidious  bribe,"  cried  Zobeir;  "proclaim 
that  his  daughter  as  a  captive,  and  'one  hundred 
thousand  pieces  of  gold,  shall  be  the  reward  of 
the  Moslem  who  brings  his  head."  The  advice 
was  adopted,  as  well  as  the  following  stratagem 
suggested  by  Zobeir.  On  the  next  morning  Ab- 
dallah sent  forth  only  sufficient  force  to  keep  up 
a  defensive  fight  ;  but  when  the  sun  had  reached 
its  noontide  height,  and  the  panting  troops  retired 
as  usual  to  their  tents,  Abdallah  and  Zobeir  sal- 
lied forth  at  the  head  of  the  reserve,  and  charged 
furiously  among  the  fainting  Greeks.  Zobeir 
singled  out  the  prefect,  and  slew  him  after  a  well- 
contested  fight.  His  daughter  pressed  forward 
to  avenge  his  death,  but  was  surrounded  and 
made  prisoner.  The  Grecian  army  was  com- 
pletely routed,  and  fled  to  the  opulent  town  of 
Safetula,  which  was  taken  and  sacked  by  the 
Moslems. 

The  battle  was  over,  Gregorius  had  fallen,  but 
no  one  came  forward  to  claim  the  reward  set 
upon  his  head.  His  captive  daughter,  however, 
on  beholding  Zobeir,  broke  forth  into  tears  and 
exclamations,  and  thus  revealed  the  modest  vic- 
tor. Zobeir  refused  to  accept  the  maiden  or  the 
gold.  He  fought,  he  said,  for  the  faith,  not  for 
earthly  objects,  and  looked  for  his  reward  in  para- 
dise. In  honor  of  his  achievements  he  was  sent 
with  tidings  of  this  victory  to 'the  Caliph;  but 
when  he  announced  it,  in  the  great  mosque  at 
Medina,  in  presence  of  the  assembled  people,  he 
made  no  mention  of  his  own  services.  His 
modesty  enhanced  his  merits  in  the  eyes  of  the 
public,  and  his  name  was  placed  by  the  Moslems 
beside  those  of  Khaled  and  Amru. 

Adballah  found  his  forces  too  much  reduced 


138 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS  SUCCESSORS. 


and  enfeebled  by  battle  and  disease  to  enable 
him  to  maintain  possession  of  the  country  he  had 
subdued,  and  after  a  campaign  of  fifteen  months 
he  led  back  his  victorious,  but  diminished  army 
into  Egypt,  encumbered  with  captives  and  laden 
with  booty. 

He  afterward,  by  the  Caliph's  command,  as- 
sembled an  army  in  theThebaid  or  Upper  Egypt, 
and  thence  made  numerous  successful  excursions 
into  Nubia,  the  Christian  king  of  which  was  re- 
duced to  make  a  humiliating  treaty,  by  which  he 
bound  himself  to  send  annually  to  the  Moslem 
commander  in  Egypt  a  great  number  of  Nubian 
or  Ethiopian  slaves  by  way  of  tribute. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

MOAWYAH,  EMIR  OF  SYRIA — HIS  NAVAL  VICTO- 
RIES—OTHMAN  LOSES  THE  PROPHET'S  RING- 
SUPPRESSES  ERRONEOUS  COPIES  OF  THE  KORAN 
— CONSPIRACIES  AGAINST  HIM — HIS  DEATH. 

AMONG  the  distinguished  Moslems  who  held 
command  of  the  distant  provinces  during  the 
Caliphat  of  Othman,  was  Moawyah  Ibn  Abu  So- 
fian.  As  his  name  denotes,  he  was  the  son  of  Abu 
Sofian,  the  early  foe  and  subsequent  proselyte  of 
Mahomet.  On  his  father's  death  he  had  become 
chief  of  the  tribe  of  Koreish,  and  head  of  the 
family  of  Omeya  or  Ommiah.  The  late  Caliph 
Omar,  about  four  years  before  his  death,  had  ap- 
pointed him  emir,  or  governor  of  Syria,  and  he 
was  continued  in  that  office  by  Othman.  He  was 
between  thirty  and  forty  years  of  age,  enter- 
prising, courageous,  of  quick  sagacity,  extended 
views,  and  lofty  aims.  Having  the  maritime 
coast  and  ancient  ports  of  Syria  under  his  com- 
mand, he  aspired  to  extend  the  triumphs  of  the 
Moslem  arms  by  sea  as  well  as  land.  He  had  re- 
peatedly endeavored,  but  in  vain,  to  obtain  per- 
mission from  Omar  to  make  a  naval  expedition, 
that  Caliph  being  always  apprehensive  of  the  too 
wide  and  rapid  extension  of  the  enterprises  of  his 
generals.  Under  Othman  he  was  more  success- 
ful, and  in  the  twenty-seventh  year  of  the  Hegira 
was  permitted  to  fit  out  a  fleet,  with  which  he 
launched  forth  on  the  Sea  of  Tarshish,  or  the 
Phoenician  Sea,  by  both  which  names  the  eastern 
part  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea  was  designated  in 
ancient  times. 

His  first  enterprise  was  against  the  island  of 
Cyprus,  which  was  still  held  in  allegiance  to  the 
emperor  of  Constantinople.  The  Christian  garri- 
son was  weak,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  island 
soon  submitted  to  pay  tribute  to  the  Caliph. 

His  next  enterprise  was  against  the  island  of 
Aradus,  where  he  landed  his  troops  and  besieged 
the  city  or  fortress,  battering  it  with  military  en- 
gines. The  inhabitants  made  vigorous  resist- 
ance, repelled  him  from  the  island,  and  it  was 
only  after  he  had  come  a  second  time,  with  su- 
perior force,  that  he  was  able  to  subdue  it.  He 
then  expelled  the  natives,  demolished  the  fortifi- 
cations, and  set  fire  to  the  city. 

His  most  brilliant  achievement,  however,  was  a 
battle  with  a  large  fleet,  in  which  the  emperor 
was  cruising  in  the  Phoenician  Sea.  It  was  called 
in  Arab  history  The  Battle  of  Masts,  from  the  for- 
est of  masts  in  the  imperial  fleet.  The  Christians 
went  into  action  singing  psalms  and  elevating  the 
cross,  the  Moslems  repeating  texts  of  the  Koran, 
shouting  Allah  Achbar,  and  waving  the  standard 


of  Islam.  The  battle  was  severe  ;  the  imperial 
fleet  dispersed,  and  the  emperor  escaped  by  dint 
of  sails  and  oars. 

Moawyah  now  swept  the  seas  victoriously, 
made  landings  on  Crete  and  Malta,  captured  the 
island  of  Rhodes,  demolished  its  famous  colossal 
statue  of  brass,  and,  having  broken  it  to  pieces, 
transported  the  fragments  to  Alexandria,  where 
they  were  sold  to  a  Jewish  merchant  of  Edissa, 
and  were  sufficient  to  load  nine  hundred  camels. 
He  had  another  fight  with  a  Christian  fleet  in  the 
bay  of  Feneke,  by  Castel  Rosso,  in  which  both 
parties  claimed  the  victory.  He  even  carried  his 
expeditions  along  the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor,  and 
to  the  very  port  of  Constantinople. 

These  naval  achievements,  a  new  feature  in 
Arab  warfare,  rendered  Moawyah  exceedingly 
popular  in  Syria,  and  laid  the  foundation  for  that 
power  and  importance  to  which  he  subsequently 
attained. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  how  the  triumphs  of  an 
ignorant  people,  who  had  heretofore  dwelt  ob- 
scurely in  the  midst  of  their  deserts,  were  over- 
running all  the  historical  and  poetical  regions  of 
antiquity.  They  had  invaded  and  subdued  the 
once  mighty  empires  on  land,  they  had  now 
launched  forth  from  the  old  scriptural  ports  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  swept  the  Sea  of  Tarshish,  and 
were  capturing  the  isles  rendered  famous  by  clas- 
sic fable. 

In  the  midst  of  these  foreign  successes  an  inci- 
dent, considered  full  of  sinister  import,  happened 
to  Othman.  He  accidentally  dropped  in  a  brook 
a  silver  ring,  on  which  was  inscribed  "  Mahomet 
the  apostle  of  God."  It  had  originally  belonged 
to  Mahomet,  and  since  his  death  had  been  worn 
by  Abu  Beker,  Omar,  and  Othman,  as  the  sym- 
bol of  command,  as  rings  had  been  considered 
throughout  the  East  from  the  earliest  times.  The 
brook  was  searched  with  the  most  anxious  care, 
but  the  ring  was  not  to  be  found.  This  was  an 
ominous  loss  in  the  eyes  of  the  superstitious  Mos- 
lems. 

It  happened  about  this  time  that,  scandalized  by 
the  various  versions  of  the  Koran,  and  the  dis- 
putes that  prevailed  concerning  their  varying 
texts,  he  decreed,  in  a  council  of  the  chief  Mos- 
lems, that  all  copies  of  the  Koran  which  did  not 
agree  with  the  genuine  one  in  the  hands  of  Hafza, 
the  widow  of  Mahomet,  should  be  burnt."  Seven 
copies  of  Hafza's  Koran  were  accordingly  made  ; 
six  were  sent  to  Mecca,  Yemen,  Syria,  Bahrein, 
Bassora,  and  Cufa,  and  one  was  retained  in  Me- 
dina. All  copies  varying  from  these  were  to  be 
given  to  the  names.  This  measure  caused  Oth- 
man to  be  called  the  Gatherer  of  the  Koran.  It, 
at'any  rate,  prevented  any  further  vitiation  of  the 
sacred  Scripture  of  Islam,  which  has  remained 
unchanged  from  that  time  to  the  present.  Be- 
sides this  pious  act,  Othman  caused  a  wall  to  be 
built  round  the  sacred  house  of  the  Caaba,  and 
enlarged  and  beautified  the  mosque  of  the  prophet 
in  Medina. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  disaffection  and  In- 
trigue were  springing  up  round  the  venerable  Ca- 
liph in  Medina.  He  was  brave,  open-handed, 
and  munificent,  but  he  wanted  shrewdness  and 
discretion  ;  was  prone  to  favoritism  ;  very  cred- 
ulous, and  easily  deceived. 

Murmurs  rose  against  him  on  all  sides,  and 
daily  increased  in  virulence.  His  conduct,  both 
public  and  private,  was  reviewed,  and  circum- 
stances, which  had  been  passed  by  as  trivial, 
were  magnified  into  serious  offences.  He  was 
charged  with  impious  presumption  in  having  taken 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


139 


his  stand,  on  being  first  made  Caliph,  on  the  up- 
permost step  of  the  pulpit,  where  Mahomet  him- 
self used  to  stand,  whereas  Abu  Beker  had  stood 
one  step  lower,  and  Omar  two.  A  graver  accu- 
sation, and  one  too  well  merited,  was  that  he  had 
displaced  men  of  worth,  eminent  tor  their  ser- 
vices, and  given  their  places  to  his  own  relatives 
and  favorites.  This  was  especially  instanced  in 
dismissing  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass  from  the  govern- 
ment of  Egypt,  and  appointing  in  his  stead  his 
own  brother  Abdallah  Ibn  Saacl,  who  had  once 
been  proscribed  by  Mahomet.  Another  accusa- 
tion was,  that  he  had  lavished  the  public  money 
upon  parasites,  giving  one  hundred  thousand 
dinars  to  one,  four  hundred  thousand  to  an- 
other, and  no  less  than  five  hundred  and  four 
thousand  upon  his  secretary  of  state,  Merwan 
Ibn  Hakem,  who  had,  it  was  said,  an  undue  as- 
cendency over  him,  and  was,  in  fact,  the  subtle 
and  active  spirit  of  his  government.  The  last 
sum,  it  was  alleged,  was  taken  out  of  a  portion 
of  the  spoils  of  Africa,  which  had  been  set  apart 
for  the  family  of  the  prophet. 

The  ire  of  the  old  Caliph  was  kindled  at  hav- 
ing his  lavish  liberality  thus  charged  upon  him  as 
a  crime.  He  mounted  the  pulpit  and  declared 
that  the  money  in  the  treasury  belonged  to  God, 
the  distribution  to  the  Caliph  at  his  own  discre- 
tion as  successor  of  the  prophet  ;  and  he  prayed 
God  to  confound  whoever  should  gainsay  what 
he  had  set  forth. 

Upon  this  Ammar  Ibn  Yaser,  one  of  the  primi- 
tive Moslems,  of  whom  Mahomet  himself  had 
said  that  he  was  filled  with  faith  from  the  crown 
of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot,  rose  and  dis- 
puted the  words  of  Othman,  whereupon  some  of 
the  Caliph's  kindred  of  the  house  of  Ommiah  fell 
upon  the  venerable  Ammar  and  beat  him  until 
he  fainted. 

The  outrage  offered  to  the  person  of  one  of 
the  earliest  disciples  and  especial  favorites 
of  the  prophet  was  promulgated  far  and  wide, 
and  contributed  to  the  general  discontent, 
which  now  assumed  the  aspect  of  rebellion. 
The  ringleader  of  the  disaffected  was  Ibn 
Caba,  formerly  a  Jew.  This  son  of  mischief 
made  a  factious  tour  from  Yemen  to  Hidschat, 
thence  to  Bassora,  to  Cufa,  to  Syria,  and  Egypt, 
decrying  the  Caliph  and  the  emirs  he  had  ap- 
pointed ;  declaring  that  the  Caliphat  had  been 
usurped  by  Othman  from  Ali,  to  whom  it  rightly 
belonged,  as  the  nearest  relative  of  the  prophet, 
and  suggesting  by  word  of  mouth  and  secret  cor- 
respondence, that  the  malcontents  should  assem- 
ble simultaneously  in  various  parts  under  pretext 
of  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca. 

The  plot  of  the  renegade  Jew  succeeded.  In 
the  fulness  of  time  deputations  arrived  from  all 
parts.  One  amounting  to  a  hundred  and  fifty 
persons  from  Bassora  ;  another  of  two  hundred 
under  Malec  Alashtar  from  Cufa  ;  a  third  of  six 
hundred  from  Egypt  headed  by  Mahomet,  the  son 
of  Abu  Beker,  and  brother  of  Ayesha,  together 
with  numbers  of  a  sect  of  zealots  called  Karegites, 
who  took  the  lead.  These  deputies  encamped 
like  an  army  within  a  league  of  Medina  and  sum- 
moned the  Caliph  by  message  either  to  redress 
their  grievances  or  to  abdicate. 

Othman  in  consternation  applied  to  Ali  to  go 
forth  and  pacity  the  multitude.  He  consented  on 
condition  that  Othman  would  previously  make 
atonement  for  his  errors  from  the  pulpit.  Har- 
assed and  dismayed,  the  aged  Caliph  mounted  the 
pulpit,  and  with  a  voice  broken  by  sobs  and  tears, 
exclaimed,  "  My  God,  I  beg  pardon  of  thee,  and 


turn  to  thee  with  penitence  and  sorrow."  The 
whole  assemblage  were  moved  and  softened,  and 
wept  with  the  Caliph. 

Merwan,  the  intriguing  and  well-paid  secretary 
of  Othman,  and  the  soul  of  his  government,  had 
been  absent  during  these  occurrences,  and  on  re- 
turning reproached  the  Caliph  with  what  he  term- 
ed an  act  of  weakness.  Having  his  permission, 
he  addressed  the  populace  in  a  strain  that  soon 
roused  them  to  tenfold  ire.  Ali,  hereupon,  high- 
ly indignant,  renounced  any  further  interference 
in  the  matter. 

Naile,  the  wife  of  Othman,  who  had  heard  the 
words  of  Merwan,  and  beheld  the  fury  of  the  peo- 
ple, warned  her  husband  of  the  storm  gathering 
Over  his  head,  and  prevailed  upon  him  again  to 
solicit  the  mediation  of  Ali.  The  latter  suffered 
himself  to  be  persuaded,  and  went  forth  among 
the  insurgents.  Partly  by  good  words  and  lib- 
eral donations  from  the  treasury,  partly  by  a  writ- 
ten promise  from  the  Caliph  to  redress  all  their 
grievances,  the  insurgents  were  quieted,  all  but 
the  deputies  from  Egypt  who  came  to  complain 
against  the  Caliph's  foster-brother,  Abdallah  Ibn 
Saad,  who  they  said  had  oppressed  them  with 
exactions,  and  lavished  their  blood  in  campaigns 
in  Barbary,  merely  for  his  own  fame  and  profit, 
without  retaining  a  foothold  in  the  country.  To 
pacify  these  complainants,  Othman  displaced  Ab- 
dallah from  the  government,  and  left  them  to 
name  his  successor.  They  unanimously  named 
Mahomet,  the  brother  of  Ayesha,  who  had  in 
fact  been  used  by  that  intriguing  woman  as  a 
firebrand  to  kindle  this  insurrection  ;  her  object 
being  to  get  Telha  appointed  to  the  Caliphat. 

The  insurgent  camp  now  broke  up.  Mahomet 
with  his  followers  set  out  to  take  possession  of  his 
post,  and  the  aged  Caliph  flattered  himself  he 
would  once  more  be  left  in  peace. 

Three  days  had  Mahomet  and  his  train  been 
on  their  journey,  when  they  were  overtaken  by  a 
black  slave  on  a  dromedary.  They  demanded 
who  he  was,  and  whither  he  was  travelling  so 
rapidly.  He  gave  himself  out  as  a  slave  of  the 
secretary  Merwan,  bearing  a  message  from  the 
Caliph  to  his  emir  in  Egypt.  "  I  am  the  emir,'k 
said  Mahomet.  "  My  errand,"  said  the  slave, 
"  is  to  the  emir  Abdallah  Ibn  Saad."  He  was 
asked  if  he  had  a  letter,  and  'on  his  prevaricating 
was  searched.  A  letter  was  found  concealed  in 
a  water-flask.  It  was  from  the  Caliph,  briefly 
ordering  the  emir,  on  the  arrival  of  Mahomet  Ibn 
Abu  Beker,  to  make  way  with  him  secretly,  de- 
stroy his  diploma,  and  imprison,  until  further  or- 
ders, those  who  had  brought  complaints  to  Me- 
dina. 

Mahomet  Ibn  Abu  Beker  returned  furious  to 
Medina,  and  showed  the  perfidious  letter  to  Ali, 
Zobeir,  and  Telha,  who  repaired  with  him  to  Oth- 
man. The  latter  denied  any  knowledge  of  the 
letter.  It  must  then,  they  said,  be  a  forgery  of 
Merwan's,  and  requested  that  he  might  be  sum- 
moned. Othman  would  not  credit  such  treason 
on  the  part  of  his  secretary,  and  insisted  it  must 
have  been  a  treacherous  device  of  one  of  his  ene- 
mies. Medina  was  now  in  a  ferment.  There 
was  a  gathering  of  the  people.  All  were  incensed 
at  such  an  atrocious  breach  of  faith,  and  insisted 
that  if  the  letter  originated  with  Othman,  he 
should  resign  the  Caliphat  ;  if  with  Merwan,  that 
he  should  receive  the  merited  punishment.  Their 
demands  had  no  effect  upon  the  Caliph. 

Mahomet  Ibn  Abu  Beker  now  sent  off  swift 
messengers  to  recall  the  recent  insurgents  from 
the  provinces,  who  were  returning  home,  and  to 


140 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Call  in  aid  from  the  neighboring  tribes.  The 
dwelling  of  Othman  was  beleaguered  ;  the  alter- 
native was  left  him  to  deliver  up  Merwan  or  to 
abdicate.  He  refused  both.  His  life  was  now 
threatened.  He  barricadoed  himself  in  his  dwell- 
ing. The  supply  of  water  was  cut  off.  If  he 
made  his  appearance  on  the  terraced  roof  he  was 
assailed  with  stones.  Ali,  Zobeir,  and  Telha  en- 
deavored to  appease  the  multitude,  but  they  were 
deaf  to  their  entreaties.  Saad  Ibn  al  Aass  ad- 
vised the  Caliph,  as  the  holy  month  was  at  hand, 
to  sally  forth  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Mecca,  as  the 
piety  of  the  undertaking  and  the  sanctity  of 
the  pilgrim  garb  would  protect  him.  Oth- 
man rejected  the  advice.  "  If  they  seek  my 
life,"  said  he,  "  they  will  not  respect  the  pilgrim 
garb." 

Ali,  Zobeir,  and  Telha,  seeing  the  clanger  im- 
minent, sent  their  three  sons,  Hassan,  Abclallah, 
and  Mahomet,  to  protect  the  house.  They  sta- 
tioned themselves  by  the  door,  and  for  some  time 
kept  the  rebels  at  bay  ;  but  the  rage  of  the  latter 
knew  no  bounds.  They  stormed  the  house  ; 
Hassan  was  wounded  in  its  defence.  The  rebels 
rushed  in  ;  among  the  foremost  was  Mahomet, 
the  brother  of  Ayesha,  and  Ammer  Ibn  Yaser, 
whom  Othman  had  ordered  to  be  beaten.  They 
found  the  venerable  Caliph  seated  on  a  cushion, 
his  beard  flowing  on  his  breast  ;  the  Koran  open 
on  his  lap,  and  his  wife  Naile  beside  him. 

One  of  the  rebels  struck  him  on  the  head, 
another  stabbed  him  repeatedly  with  a  sword, 
and  Mahomet  Ibn  Abu  Beker  thrust  a  javelin  into 
his  body  after  he  was  dead.  His  wife  was 
wounded  in  endeavoring  to  protect  him,  and  her 
'  life  was  only  saved  through  the  fidelity  of  a  slave. 
His  house  was  plundered,  as  were  some  of  the 
neighboring  houses,  and  two  chambers  of  the 
treasury. 

As  soon  as  the  invidious  Ayesha  heard  that  the 
murder  was  accomplished,  she  went  forth  in  hyp- 
ocritical guise  loudly  bewailing  the  death  of  a 
man  to  whom  she  had  secretly  been  hostile,  and 
joining  with  the  Ommiah  family  in  calling  for 
blood  revenge. 

The  noble  and  virtuous  Ali,  with  greater  sin- 
cerity, was  incensed  at  his  sons  for  not  sacrificing 
their  lives  in  defence  of  the  Caliph,  and  reproach- 
ed the  sons  of  Telha  and  Zobeir  with  being  luke- 
warm. "  Why  are  you  so  angry,  father  of  Has- 
san ?"  said  Telha  ;  "  had  Othman  given  up  Mer- 
wan this  evil  would  not  have  happened." 

In  fact,  it  has  been  generally  affirmed  that  the 
letter  really  was  written  by  Merwan,  without  the 
knowledge  of  the  Caliph,  and  was  intended  to  fall 
into  the  hands  of  Mahomet,  and  produce  the  ef- 
fect which  resulted  from  it.  Merwan,  it  is  alleged, 
having  the  charge  of  the  correspondence  of  the 
Caliphat,  had  repeatedly  abused  the  confidence  of 
the  weak  and  superannuated  Othman  in  like  man- 
ner, but  not  with  such  a  nefarious  aim.  Of  late 
he  had  secretly  joined  the  cabal  against  the  Ca- 
liph. 

The  body  of  Othman  lay  exposed  for  three  day.,, 
and  was  then  buried  in  the  clothes  in  which  he 
was  slain,  unwashed  and  without  any  funeral  cer- 
emony. He  was  eighty-two  years  old  at  the  time 
of  his  death,  and  had  reigned  nearly  twelve  years. 
The  event  happened  in  the  thirty-fifth  year  of  the 
Hegira,  in  the  year  655  of  the  Christian  era. 
Notwithstanding  his  profusion  and  the  sums  lav- 
ished upon  his  favorites,  immense  treasures 
were  found  in  his  dwelling,  a  considerable 
part  of  which  he  had  set  apart  for  charitable 
purposes. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

CANDIDATES  FOR  THE  CALIPHAT— INAUGURA- 
TION OF  AM,  FOURTH  CALIPH — HE  UNDER- 
TAKES MEASURES  OF  REFORM — THEIR  CONSE- 
QUENCES—CONSPIRACY OF  AYESHA— SHE  GETS 
POSSESSION  OF  BASSORA. 

WE  have  already  seen  that  the  faith  of  Islam 
had  begun  to  lose  its  influence  in  binding  together 
the  hearts  of  the  faithful,  and  uniting  their  feel- 
ings and  interests  in  one  common  cause.  The 
factions  which  sprang  up  at  the  very  death  of 
Mahomet  had  increased  with  the  election  of  every 
successor,  and  candidates  for  the  succession  mul- 
tiplied as  the  brilliant  successes  of  the  Moslem 
arms  elevated  victorious  generals  to  popularity 
and  renown.  On  the  assassination  of  Othman, 
four  candidates  were  presented  for  the  Caliphat  ; 
and  the  fortuitous  assemblage  of  deputies  from 
the  various  parts  of  the  Moslem  empire  threatened 
to  make  the  election  difficult  and  tumultuous. 

The  most  prominent  candidate  was  Ali,  who 
had  the  strongest  natural  claim,  being  cousin  and 
son-in-law  of  Mahomet,  and  his  children  by  Fa- 
tima  being  the  only  posterity  of  the  prophet.  He 
was  of  the  noblest  branch  of  the  noble  race  of 
Koreish.  He  possessed  the  three  qualities  most 
prized  by  Arabs — courage,  eloquence,  and  mu- 
nificence. His  intrepid  spirit  had  gained  him 
from  the  prophet  the  appellation  of  The  Lion  of 
God  ;  specimens  of  his  eloquence  remain  in  some 
verses  and  sayings  preserved  among  the  Arabs  ; 
and  his  munificence  was  manifested  in  sharing 
among  others,  every  Friday,  what  remained  in 
the  treasury.  Of  his  magnanimity  we  have  given 
repeated  instances  ;  his  noble  scorn  of  everything 
false  and  mean,  and  the  absence  in  his  conduct 
of  everything  like  selfish  intrigue. 

His  right  to  the  Caliphat  was  supported  by  the 
people  of  Cufa,  the  Egyptians,  and  a  great  part 
of  the  Arabs  who  were  desirous  of  a  line  of  Ca- 
liphs of  the  blood  of  Mahomet.  He  was  opposed, 
however,  as  formerly,  by  the  implacable  Ayesha, 
who,  though  well  stricken  in  years,  retained  an 
unforgiving  recollection  of  his  having  once  ques- 
tioned her  chastity. 

A  second  candidate  was  Zobeir,  the  same  war- 
rior who  distinguished  himself  by  his  valor  in  the 
campaign  of  Barbary,  by  his  modesty  in  omitting 
to  mention  his  achievements,  and  in  declining  to 
accept  their  reward.  His  pretensions  to  the  Cali- 
phat were  urged  by  the  people  of  Bassora. 

A  third  candidate  was  Telha,  who  had  been 
one  of  the  six  electors  of  Othman,  and  who  had 
now  the  powerful  support  of  Ayesha. 

A  fourth  candidate  was  Moawyah,  the  military 
governor  of  Syria,  and  popular  from  his  recent 
victories  by  sea  and  land.  He  had,  moreover, 
immense  wealth  to  back  his  claims,  and  was  head 
of  the  powerful  tribe  of  Koreish  ;  but  he  was  dis- 
tant from  the  scene  of  election,  and  in  his  ab- 
sence his  partisans  could  only  promote  confusion 
and  delay. 

It  was  a  day  of  tumult  and  trouble  in  Medina. 
The  body  of  Othman  was  still  unburied.  His 
wife  Naile,  at  the  instigation  of  Ayesha,  sent  off 
his  bloody  vest  to  be  carried  through  the  distant 
provinces,  a  ghastly  appeal  to  the  passions  of  the 
inhabitants. 

The  people,  apprehending  discord  and  dis- 
union, clamored  for  the  instant  nomination  of  a 
Caliph.  The  deputations,  which  had  come  from 
various  parts  with  complaints  against  Othman, 
became  impatient.  There  were  men  from  Baby- 


THE  KAATERSKILL   [RVINQ 


Copyright  188!  by  POLLARD  &  MOSS. 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Ionia  and  Mesopotamia,  and  other  parts  of  Per- 
sia ;  from  Syria  and  Egypt,  as  well  as  from  the 
three  divisions  of  Arabia  ;  these  assembled  tu- 
multuously,  and  threatened  the  safety  of  the 
three  candidates,  All,  Telha,  and  Zobeir,  unless 
'  an  election  were  made  in  four-and-twenty  hours. 

In  this  dilemma,  some  of  the  principal  Mos- 
lems repaired  to  AH,  and  entreated  him  to  ac- 
cept the  office.  He  consented  with  reluctance, 
but  would  do  nothing  clandestinely,  and  refused 
to  take  their  hands,  the  Moslem  mode  at  that 
time  of  attesting  fealty,  unless  it  were  in  public 
assembly  at  the  mosque  ;  lest  he  should  give 
cause  of  cavil  or  dispute  to  his  rivals.  He  re- 
fused, also,  to  make  any  promises  or  conditions. 
"  If  I  am  elected  Caliph,"  said  he,  "  I  will  ad- 
minister the  government  with  independence,  and 
deal  with  you  all  according  to  my  ideas  of  just- 
ice. If  you  elect  another,  I  will  yield  obedience 
to  him,  and  be  ready  to  serve  him  as  his  vizier." 
They  assented  to  everything  he  said,  and  again 
entreated  him  to  accept,  for  the  good  of  the  people 
and  of  the  faith. 

On  the  following  morning  there  was  a  great 
assemblage  of  the  people  at  the  mosque,  and  Ali 
presented  himself  at  the  portal.  He  appeared  in 
simple  Arab  style,  clad  in  a  thin  cotton  garb 
girded  round  his  loins,  a  coarse  turban,  and  using 
a  bow  as  a  walking-staff.  He  took  off  his  slip- 
pers in  reverence  of  the  place,  and  entered  the 
mosque,  bearing  them  in  his  left  hand. 

Finding  that  Telha  and  Zobeir  were  not  pres- 
ent, he  caused  them  to  be  sent  for.  They  came, 
and  knowing  the  state  of  the  public  mind,  and 
that  all  immediate  opposition  would  be  useless, 
offered  their  hands  in  token  of  allegiance.  Ali 
paused,  and  asked  them  if  their  hearts  went  with 
their  hands.  "  Speak  frankly,"  said  he  ;  "  if  you 
disapprove  of  my  election,  and  will  accept  the 
office,  I  will  give  my  hand  to  either  of  you." 
They  declared  their  perfect  satisfaction,  and 
gave  their  hands.  Telha's  right  arm  had  been 
maimed  in  the  battle  of  Ohocl,  and  he  stretched 
it  foith  with  difficulty.  The  circumstance  struck 
the  Arabs  as  an  evil  omen.  "  It  is  likely  to  be  a 
lame  business  that  is  begun  with  a  lame  hand," 
muttered  a  bystander.  Subsequent  events  seem- 
ed to  justify  the  foreboding. 

Moawyah,  the  remaining  candidate,  being  ab- 
sent at  his  government  in  Syria,  the  whole  family 
of  Ommiab,  of  which  he  was  the  head,  withdrew 
from  the  ceremony.  This  likewise  boded  future 
troubles. 

After  the  inauguration,  Telha  and  Zobeir,  with 
a  view,  it  is  said,  to  excite  disturbance,  applied 
to  Ali  to  investigate  and  avenge  the  death  of  Oth- 
man.  Ali,  who  knew  that  such  a  measure  would 
call  up  a  host  of  enemies,  evaded  the  insidious 
proposition.  It  was  not  the  moment,  he  said,  for 
such  an  investigation.  The  event  had  its  origin 
in  old  enmities  and  discontents  instigated  by  the 
devil,  and  when  the  devil  once  gained  a  foothold, 
he  never  relinquished  it  willingly.  The  very 
measure  they  recommended  was  one  of  the  dev- 
il's suggesting,  for  the  purpose  of  fomenting  dis- 
turbances. "  However,"  added  he,  "  if  you  will 
point  out  the  assassins  of  Othman,  I  will  not  fail 
to  punish  them  according  to  their  guilt." 

While  Ali  thus  avoided  the  dangerous  litiga- 
tion, he  endeavored  to  cultivate  the  good  will  of 
the  Koreishites,  and  to  strengthen  himself  against 
apprehended  difficulties  with  the  family  of  Om- 
miah.  Telha  and  Zobeir,  being  disconcerted  in 
their  designs,  now  applied  for  important  com- 
mands—Telha  for  the  government  of  Cufa,  and 


Zobeir  for  that  of  Bassora  ;  but  Ali  again  de- 
clined complying  with  their  wishes  ;  observing  that 
he  needed  such  able  counsellors  at  hand  in  his  pres- 
ent emergencies.  They  afterward  separately  ob- 
tained permission  from  him  to  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  Mecca,  and  set  off  on  that  devout  errand  with 
piety  on  their  lips,  but  crafty  policy  in  their 
breasts  ;  Ayesha  had  already  repaired  to  the  holy 
city,  bent  upon  opposition  to  the  government  of 
the  man  she  hated. 

Ali  was  now  Caliph,  but  did  not  feel  himself 
securely  fixed  in  his  authority.  Many  abuses  had 
grown  up  during  the  dotage  of  his  predecessor, 
which  called  for  redress,  and  most  of  the  govern- 
ments of  provinces  were  in  the  hands  of  persons 
in  whose  affection  and  fidelity  he  felt  no  confi- 
dence. He  determined  upon  a  general  reform  ; 
and  as  a  first  step,  to  remove  from  office  all  the 
governors  who  had  been  appointed  by  the  super- 
annuated Othman.  This  measure  was  strongly 
opposed  by  some  of  his  counsellors.  They  repre- 
sented to  him  that  he  was  not  yet  sufficiently  es- 
tablished to  venture  upon  such  changes  ;  and 
that  he  would  make  powerful  enemies  of  men 
who,  if  left  in  office,  would  probably  hasten  to  de- 
clare allegiance  to  him,  now  that  he  was  Caliph. 

Ali  was  not  to  be  persuaded.  "  Sedition,"  he 
said,  "  like  fire,  is  easily  extinguished  at  the  com- 
mencement ;  but  the  longer  it  burns  the  more 
fiercely  it  blazes." 

He  was  advised,  at  least,  to  leave  his  formida- 
ble rival  Moawyah,  for  the  present,  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Syria,  as  he  was  possessed  of  great  wealth 
and  influence,  and  a  powerful  army,  and  might 
rouse  that  whole  province  to  rebellion  ;  and  in 
such  case  might  be  joined  by  Telha  and  Zobeir, 
who  were  both  disappointed  and  disaffected  men. 
He  had  recently  shown  his  influence  over  the 
feelings  of  the  people  under  his  command  ;  when 
the  bloody  vest  of  Othman  arrived  in  the  prov- 
ince, he  had  displayed  it  from  the  pulpit  of  the 
mosque  in  Damascus.  The  mosque  resounded 
with  lamentations  mingled  with  clamors  for  the 
revenge  of  blood  ;  for  Othman  had  won  the 
hearts  of  the  people  of  Syria  by  his  munificence. 
Some  of  the  noblest  inhabitants  of  Damascus 
swore  to  remain  separate  from  their  wives,  and 
not  to  lay  their  heads  on  a  pillow  until  blood  for 
blood  had  atoned  for  the  death  of  Othman.  Fi- 
nally the  vest  had  been  hoisted  as  a  standard,  and 
had  fired  the  Syrian  army  with  a  desire  for  ven- 
geance. 

Ali's  counsellor  represented  all  these  things  to 
him.  "Suffer  Moawyah,  therefore,"  added  he, 
"  to  remain  in  command  until  he  has  acknowl- 
edged your  government,  and  then  he  may  be  dis- 
placed without  turmoil.  Nay,  I  will  pledge  my- 
self to  bring  him  bound  hand  and  foot  into  vour 
presence." 

Ali  spurned  at  this  counsel,  and  swore  he 
would  practise  no  such  treachery,  but  would  deal 
with  Moawyah  with  the  sword  alone.  He  com- 
menced immediately  his  plan  of  reform,  with  the 
nomination  of  new  governors  devoted  to  his  ser- 
vice. Abdallah  Ibn  Abbas  was  appointed  to 
Arabia  Felix,  Ammar  Ibn  Sahel  to  Cufa,  Othman 
Ibn  Hanif  to  Bassora,  Sahel  Ibn  Hanif  to  Syria, 
and  Saad  Ibn  Kais  to  Egypt.  These  generals 
lost  no  time  in  repairing  to  their  respective  gov- 
ernments, but  the  result,  soon  convinced  Ali  that 
he  had  been  precipitate. 

Jaali,  the  governor  of  Arabia  Felix,  readily  re- 
signed his  post  to  Abdallah  Ibn  Abbas,  and  re- 
tired to  Mecca  ;  but  he  took  with  him  the  public 
treasure,  and  delivered  it  into  the  hands  of 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Ayesha,  and  her  confederates  Telha  and  Zobeir, 
who  were  already  plotting  rebellion. 

Othman  Ibn  Hanif,  on  arriving  at  Bassora  to 
take  the  command,  iound  the  people  discontented 
and  rebellious,  and  having  no  force  to  subjugate 
them,  esteemed  himself  fortunate  in  escaping 
from  their  hands  and  returning  to  the  Caliph. 

When  Ammar  Ibn  Sahel  reached  the  confines 
of  Cufa,  he  learnt  that  the  people  were  unanimous 
in  favor  of  Abu  Musa  Alashari,  their  present  gov- 
ernor, and  determined  to  support  him  by  fraud 
or  force.  Ammar  had  no  disposition  to  contend 
with  them,  the  Cufians  being  reputed  the  most 
treacherous  and  perfidious  people  of  the  East  ;  so 
he  turned  the  head  of  his  horse,  and  journeyed 
back  mortified  and  disconcerted  to  AH. 

Saad  Ibn  Kais  was  received  in  Egypt  with  mur- 
murs by  the  inhabitants,  who  were  indignant  at 
the  assassination  of  Othman,  and  refused  to  sub- 
mit to  the  government  of  Ali  until  justice  was 
done  upon  the  perpetrators  of  that  murder.  Saad 
prudently,  therefore,  retraced  his  steps  to  Me- 
dina. 

Sahel  Ibn  Hanif  had  no  better  success  in  Syria. 
He  was  met  at  Tabuc  by  a  body  of  cavalry,  who 
demanded  his  name  and  business.  "  For  my 
name,"  said  he,  "  I  am  Sahel,  the  son  of  Hanif  ; 
and  for  my  business,  I  am  governor  of  this  prov- 
ince, as  lieutenant  of  the  Caliph  Ali,  Commander 
of  the  Faithful."  They  assured  him  in  reply, 
that  Syria  had  already  an  able  governor  in  Moa- 
wyah,  son  of  Abu  Sofian,  and  that  to  their  certain 
knowledge  there  was  not  room  in  the  province 
for  the  sole  of  his  foot  ;  so  saying,  they  unsheath- 
ed their  scimetars. 

The  ne\v  governor,  who  was  not  provided  with 
a  body  of  troops  sufficient  to  enforce  his  authority, 
returned  also  to  the  Caliph  with  this  intelligence. 
Thus  of  the  five  governors  so  promptly  sent  forth 
by  Ali  in  pursuance  of  his  great  plan  of  reform, 
Abdallah  Ibn  Abbas  was  the  only  one  permitted 
to  assume  his  post. 

When  Ali  received  tidings  of  the  disaffection  of 
Syria,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Moawyah,  claiming 
his  allegiance,  and  transmitted  it  by  an  especial 
messenger.  The  latter  was  detained  many  days 
by  the  Syrian  commander,  and  then  sent  back, 
accompanied  by  another  messenger,  bearing  a 
sealed  letter  superscribed,  "  From  Moawyah  to 
Ali."  The  two  couriers  arrived  at  Medina  in  the 
cool  of  the  evening,  the  hour  of  concourse,  and 
passed  through  the  multitude  bearing  the  letter 
aloft  on  a  staff,  so  that  all  could  see  the  super- 
scription. The  people  thronged  after  the  messen- 
gers into  the  presence  of  Ali.  On  opening  the 
letter  it  was  found  to  be  a  perfect  blank,  in  token 
of  contempt  and  defiance. 

Ah  soon  learned  that  this  was  no  empty  brava- 
do. He  was  apprised  by  his  own  courier  that  an 
army  of  sixty  thousand  men  was  actually  on  foot 
in  Syria,  and  that  the  bloody  garment  of  Othman, 
the  standard  of  rebellion,  was  erected  in  the 
mosque  at  Damascus.  Upon  this  he  solemnly 
called  Allah  and  the  prophet  to  witness  that  he 
was  not  guilty  of  that  murder  ;  but  made  active 
preparations  to  put  down  the  rebellion  by  force 
of  arms,  sending  missives  into  all  the  provinces 
demanding  the  assistance  of  the  faithful. 

The  Moslems  were  now  divided  into  two  par- 
ties :  those  who  adhered  to  Ali,  among  whom 
were  the  people  of  Medina  generally  ;  and  the 
Motazeli,  or  Separatists,  who  were  in  the  opposi- 
tion. The  latter  were  headed  by  the  able  and 
vindictive  Ayesha,  who  had  her  headquarters  at 
Mecca,  and  with  the  aid  of  Telha  and  Zobeir, 


was  busy  organizing  an  insurrection.  She  had 
induced  the  powerful  family  of  Ommiah  to  join 
her  cause,  and  had  sent  couriers  to  all  the  gov- 
ernors of  provinces  whom  Ali  had  superseded, 
inviting  them  to  unite  in  the  rebellion.  The 
treasure  brought  to  her  by  Jaali,  the  displaced 
governor  of  Arabia  Felix,  furnished  her  with 
the  means  of  war,  and  the  bloody  garment  of 
Othman  proved  a  powerful  auxiliary. 

A  council  of  the  leaders  of  this  conspiracy  was 
held  at  Mecca.  Some  inclined  to  join  the  insur- 
gents in  Syria,  but  it  was  objected  that  Moawyah 
was  sufficiently  powerful  in  that  country  without 
their  aid.  The  intrepid  Ayesha  was  for  proceed- 
ing immediately  to  Medina  and  attacking  Ali  in 
his  capital,  but  it  was  represented  that  the  people 
of  Medina  were  unanimous  in  his  favor,  and  too 
powerful  to  be  assailed  with  success.  It  was 
finally  determined  to  march  for  Bassora,  Telha 
assuring  them  that  he  had  a  strong  party  in  that 
city,  and  pledging  himself  for  its  surrender. 

A  proclamation  was  accordingly  made  by  sound 
of  trumpet  through  the  streets€f  Mecca  to  the  fol- 
lowing effect  : 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Most  High  God.  Ayesha, 
Mother  of  the  Faithful,  accompanied  by  the  chiefs 
Telha  and  Zobeir,  is  going  in  person  to  Bassora. 
All  those  of  the  faithful  who  burn  with  a  desire 
to  defend  the  faith  and  avenge  the  death  of  the 
Caliph  Othman,  have  only  to  present  themselves 
and  they  shall  be  furnished  with  all  necessaries 
for  the  journey." 

Ayesha  sallied  forth  from  one  of  the  gates  of 
Mecca,  borne  in  a  litter  placed  on  the  back  of  a 
strong  camel  named  Alascar.  Telha  and  Zobeir 
attended  her  on  each  side,  followed  by  six  hun- 
dred persons  of  some  note,  all  mounted  on  camels, 
and  a  promiscuous  multitude  of  about  six  thou- 
sand on  foot. 

After  marching  some  distance,  the  motley  host 
stopped  to  refresh  themselves  on  the  bank  of  a 
rivulet  near  a  village.  Their  arrival  aroused  the 
dogs  of  the  village,  who  surrounded  Ayesha  and 
barked  at  her  most  clamorously.  Like  all  Arabs, 
she  was  superstitious,  and  considered  this  an  evil 
omen.  Her  apprehensions  were  increased  on 
learning  that  the  name  of  the  village  was  Jowab. 
"  My  trust  is  in  God,"  exclaimed  she,  solemnly. 
"To  him  do  I  turn  in  time  of  trouble"— a  text 
from  the  Koran,  used  by  Moslems  in  time  of  ex- 
treme danger.  In  fact,  she  called  to  mind  some 
proverb  of  the  prophet  about  the  dogs  of  Jowab, 
and  a  prediction  that  one  of  his  wives  would  be 
barked  at  by  them  when  in  a  situation  of  immi- 
nent peril.  "  I  will  go  no  further,"  cried  Ayesha  ; 
"  I  will  halt  here  for  the  night."  So  saying,  she 
struck  her  camel  on  the  leg  to  make  him  kneel 
that  she  might  alight. 

Telha  and  Zobeir,  dreading  any  delay,  brought 
some  peasants  whom  they  had  suborned  to  as- 
sign a  different  name  to  the  village,  and  thus 
quieted  her  superstitious  fears.  About  the  same 
time  some  horsemen,  likewise  instructed  by 
them,  rode  up  with  a  false  report  that  Ali  was  not 
far  distant  with  a  body  of  troops.  Ayesha  hesi- 
tated no  longer,  but  mounting  nimbly  on  her 
camel,  pressed  to  the  head  of  her  little  army,  and 
they  all  pushed  forward  with  increased  expedition 
toward  Bassora.  Arrived  before  the  city,  they 
had  hoped,  from  the  sanguine  declarations  of 
Telha,  to  see  it  throw  open  its  gates  to  receive 
them  ;  the  gates,  however,  remained  closely  bar- 
red. Othman  Ibn  Hanef,  whom  Ali  had  sent 
without  success  to  assume  the  government  of 
Cufa,  was  now  in  command  at  Bassora,  whither 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


143 


•he   had    been    invited    by  a    part   of   the    inhabi- 
tants. 

Ayesha  sent  a  summons  to  the  governor  to 
come  forth  and  join  the  standard  of  the  faithful, 
or  at  least  to  throw  open  his  gates  ;  but  he  was  a 
timid,  undecided  man,  and  confiding  the  defence 
of  the  city  to  his  lieutenant  Ammar,  retired  in 
great  tribulation  within  his  own  dwelling  in  the 
citadel,  and  went  to  prayers. 

Ammar  summoned  the  people  to  arms,  and 
called  a  meeting  of  the  principal  inhabitants  in 
the  mosque.  He  soon  found  out,  to  his  great 
discouragement,  that  the  people  were  nearly 
equally  divided  into  two  factions — one  for  Ali, 
since  he  was  regularly  elected  Caliph,  the  other 
composed  of  partisans  of  Telha.  The  parties, 
instead  of  deliberating,  fell  to  reviling,  and  ended 
by  throwing  dust  in  each  other's  faces. 

In  the  mean  time  Ayesha  and  her  host  ap- 
proached the  walls,  and  many  of  the  inhabitants 
went  forth  to  meet  her.  Telha  and  Zobeir  alter- 
nately addressed  the  multitude,  and  were  follow- 
ed by  Ayesha,  who  harangued  them  from  her 
camel.  Her  voice,  which  she  elevated  that  it 
might  be  heard  by  all,  became  shrill  and  sharp, 
instead  of  intelligible,  and  provoked  the  merri- 
ment of  some  of  the  crowd.  A  dispute  arose  as 
to  the  justice  of  her  appeal  ;  mutual  revilings 
again  took  place  between  the  parties  ;  they  gave 
each  other  the  lie,  and  again  threw  dust  in  each 
others'  faces.  One  of  the  men  of  Bassora  then 
turned  and  reproached  Ayesha.  "  Shame  on 
thee,  oh  Mother  of  the  Faithful  !"  said  he. 
"  The  murder  of  the  Caliph  was  a  grievous  crime, 
but  was  a  less  abomination  than  thy  forgetlulness 
of  the  modesty  of  thy  sex.  Wherefore  dost  thou 
abandon  thy  quiet  home,  and  thy  protecting  veil, 
and  ride  forth  like  a  man  barefaced  on  that  ac- 
cursed camel,  to  foment  quarrels  and  dissensions 
among  the  faithful  ?" 

Another  of  the  crowd  scoffed  at  Telha  and  Zo- 
beir. "  You  have  brought  your  mother  with 
you,"  cried  he  ;  "  why  did  you  not  also  bring  your 
wives  ?" 

.  Insults  were  Soon  followed  by  blows,  swords 
were  drawn,  a  skirmish  ensued,  and  they  fought 
until  the  hour  of  prayer  separated  them. 

Ayesha  sat  down  before  Bassora  with  her  armed 
host,  and  some  days  passed  in  alternate  skirmishes 
and  negotiations.  At  length  a  truce  was  agreed 
upon,  until  deputies  could  be  sent  to  Medina  to 
learn  the  cause  of  these  dissensions  among  the 
Moslems,  and  whether  Telha  and  Zobeir  agreed 
voluntarily  to  the  action  of  Ali,  or  did  so  on  com- 
pulsion :  if  the  former,  they  should  be  considered 
as  rebels  ;  if  the  latter,  their  partisans  in  Bassora 
should  be  considered  justified  in  upholding  them. 

The  insurgents,  however,  only  acquiesced  in 
this  agreement  to  get  the  governor  in  their  power, 
and  so  gain  possession  of  the  city.  They  endeav- 
ored to  draw  him  to  their  camp  by  friendly  mes- 
sages, but  he  apparently  suspected  their  inten- 
tions, and  refused  to  come  forth  until  the  answer 
should  be  received  from  Medina.  Upon  this 
Telha  and  Zobeir,  taking  advantage  of  a  stormy 
n'ght,  gained  an  entrance  into  the  city  with  a 
chosen  band,  and  surprised  the  governor  in  the 
mosque,  where  they  took  him  prisoner,  after  kill- 
ing forty  of  his  guard.  They  sent  to  Ayesha  to 
know  what  they  should  do  with  their  captive. 
"  Let  him  be  put  to  death,"  was  her  fierce  reply. 
Upon  this  one  of  her  women  interceded.  "  I  ad- 
jure thee,"  said  she,  "  in  the  name  of  Allah  and 
the  companions  of  the  apostle,  do  not  slay  him." 
Ayesha  was  moved  by  this  adjuration,  and  com- 


muted his  punishment  into  forty  stripes  and  im- 
prisonment. He  was  doomed,  however,  to  suffer 
still  greater  evils  before  he  escaped  from  the  hands 
of  his  captors.  His  beard  was  plucked  out  hair 
by  hair,  one  of  the  most  disgraceful  punishments 
that  can  be  inflicted  on  an  Arab.  His  eyebrows 
were  served  in  the  same  manner,  and  he  was  then 
contemptuously  set  at  liberty. 

The  city  of  Bassora  was  now  taken  possession 
of  without  further  resistance.  Ayesha  entered  it 
in  state,  supported  by  Telha  and  Zobeir,  and  fol- 
lowed by  her  troops  and  adherents.  The  inhabi- 
tants were  treated  with  kindness,  as  friends  who 
had  acted  through  error  ;  and  every  exertion  was 
made  to  secure  their  good-will,  and  to  incense 
them  against  Ali,  who  was  represented  as  a  mur- 
derer and  usurper. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

ALI  DEFEATS  THE  REBELS    UNDER  AYESHA— HIS 
TREATMENT    OF  HER. 

WHEN  Ali  heard  of  the  revolt  at  Mecca,  and 
the  march  against  Bassora,  he  called  a  general 
meeting  in  the  mosque,  and  endeavored  to  stir  up 
the  people  to  arm  and  follow  him  in  pursuit  of 
the  rebels  ;  but,  though  he  spoke  with  his  usual 
eloquence,  and  was  popular  in  Medina,  a  cold- 
ness and  apathy  pervaded  the  assembly.  Some 
dreaded  a  civil  war  ;  others  recollected  that  the 
leader  of  the  rebels,  against  whom  they  were 
urged  to  take  up  arms,  was  Ayesha,  the  favorite 
wife  of  the  prophet,  the  Mother  of  the  Faithful  ; 
others  doubted  whether  Ali  might  not,  in  some 
degree,  be  implicated  in  the  death  of  Othman, 
which  had  been  so  artfully  charged  against  him. 

At  length  a  Moslem  of  distinction,  Ziyad  Ibn 
Hantelah,  rose  with  generous  warmth,  and,  step- 
ping up  to  Ali,  "  Let  whosoever  will,  hold  back," 
cried  he  ;  "  we  will  go  forward." 

At  the  same  time  two  Ansars,  or  doctors  of 
the  law,  men  of  great  weight,  pronounced  with 
oracular  voice,  "  The  Imam  Othman,  master  of 
the  two  testimonies,  did  not  die  by  the  hand  of 
the  master  of  the  two  testimonies  ;"*  that  is  to 
say,  "  Othman  was  not  slain  by  Ali." 

The  Arabs  are  a  mercurial  people,  and  acted 
upon  by  sudden  impulses.  The  example  of 
Ziyad,  and  the  declaration  of  the  two  Ansars, 
caused  an  immediate  excitement.  Abu  Kotada, 
an  Ansar'of  distinction,  drew  his  sword.  "  The 
apostle  of  God,"  said  he,  "  upon  whom  be  peace, 
girt  me  with  this  sword.  It  has  long  been  sheath- 
ed. I  now  devote  it  to  the  destruction  of  these 
deceivers  of  the  faithful." 

A  matron  in  a  transport  of  enthusiasm  exclaim- 
ed, "  Oh  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  if  it  were 
permitted  by  our  law,  I  myself  would  go  with 
thee  ;  but  here  is  my  cousin,  dearer  to  me  than 
my  own  life  ;  he  shall  follow  thee  and  partake  of 
thy  fortunes." 

Ali  profited  by  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
and  making  a  hasty  levy  marched  out  of  Medina 
at  the  head  of  about  nine  hundred  men,  eager  to 
overtake  the  rebels  before  they  should  reach  Bas- 
sora. Hearing,  however,  that  Ayesha  was  al- 


*  The  two  testimonies  mean  the  two  fundamental 
beliefs  of  the  Moslem  creed  :  "  There  is  but  one  God. 
Mahomet  is  the  apostle  of  God."  The  Caliph,  as 
Imam  or  pontiff  of  the  Mussulman  religion,  is  master 
of  the  two  testimonies. 


144 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


ready  in  possession  of  that  city,  he  halted  at  a 
place  called  Arrabdah  until  he  should  be  joined 
by  reinforcements  :  sending  messengers  to  Abu 
Musa  Alashair,  governor  of  Cufa,  and  to  various 
other  commanders,  ordering  speedy  succor.  He 
was  soon  joined  by  his  eldest  son  Hassan, 
who  undertook  to  review  his  conduct  and  lec- 
ture him  on  his  policy.  "  I  told  you,"  said  he, 
"  when  the  Caliph  Othman  was  besieged,  to 
go  out  of  the  city,  lest  you  should  be  implicated  in 
his  death.  I  told  you  not  to  be  inaugurated 
until  deputies  from  the  Arabian  tribes  were  pres- 
ent. Lastly,  I  told  you  when  Ayesha  and  her 
two  confederates  took  the  field,  to  keep  at  home 
until  they  should  be  pacified  ;  so  that,  should  any 
mischief  result,  you  might  not  be  made  respon- 
sible. You  have  not  heeded  my  advice,  and  the 
consequence  is  that  you  may  now  be  murdered 
to-morrow,  with  nobody  to  blame  but  your- 
self." 

Ali  listened  with  impatience  to  this  filial  coun- 
sel, or  rather  censure  ;  when  it  was  finished  he 
replied,  "  Had  I  lelt  the  city  when  Othman  was 
besieged,  I  should  myself  have  been  surrounded. 
Had  I  waited  for  my  inauguration  until  all  the 
tribes  came  in,  I  should  have  lost  the  votes  of  the 
people  of  Medina,  the  '  Helpers,'  who  have  the 
privilege  of  disposing  of  the  government.  Had 
I  remained  at  home  after  my  enemies  had  taken 
the  field,  like  a  wild  beast  lurking  in  its  hole,  I 
should  like  a  wild  beast  have  been  digged  out  and 
destroyed.  If  I  do  not  look  after  my  own  affairs, 
who  will  look  after  them  ?  If  I  do  not  defend 
myself,  who  will  defend  me  ?  Such  are  my  rea- 
sons for  acting  as  I  have  acted  ;  and  now,  my 
son,  hold  your  peace."  We  hear  of  no  further 
counsels  from  Hassan. 

Ali  had  looked  for  powerful  aid  from  Abu 
Musa  Alashair,  governor  of  Cufa,  but  he  was  of  a 
lukewarm  spirit,  and  cherished  no  good  will  to 
the  Caliph,  from  his  having  sent  Othman  Ibn 
Hanef  to  supplant  him,  as  has  been  noticed.  He 
therefore  received  his  messengers  with  coldness, 
and  sent  a  reply  full  of  evasions.  Ali  was  en- 
raged at  this  reply  ;  and  his  anger  was  increased 
by  the  arrival  about  the  same  time  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Othman  Ibn  Hanef,  who  had  been  so  sadly 
scourged  and  maltreated  and  ejected  from  his 
government  at  Bassora.  What  most  grieved  the 
heart  of  the  ex-governor  was  the  indignity  that 
had  been  offered  to  his  person.  "  Oh  Command- 
er of  the  Faithful,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "  when 
you  sent  me  to  Bassora  I  had  a  beard,  and  now, 
alas,  I  have  not  a  hair  on  my  chin  !" 

Ali  commiserated  the  unfortunate  man  who 
thus  deplored  the  loss  of  his  beard  more  than  of 
his  government,  but  comforted  him  with  the  as- 
surance that  his  sufferings  would  be  counted  to 
him  as  merits.  He  then  spoke  of  his  own  case  ; 
the  Cailphs,  his  predecessors,  had  reigned  with- 
out opposition  ;  but,  for  his  own  part,  those  who 
had  joined  in  electing  him  had  proved  false  to 
him.  "  Telha  and  Zobeir,"  said  he,  "  have  sub- 
mitted to  Abu  Beker,  Omar,  and  Othman  ;  why 
have  they  arrayed  themselves  against  me  ?  By 
Allah,  they  shall  find  that  I  am  not  one  jot  inferior 
to  my  predecessors  !" 

Ali  now  sent  more  urgent  messages  to  Abu 
Musa,  governor  of  Cufa,  by  his  son  Hassan  and 
Ammar  Ibn  Yaser,  his  general  of  the  horse,  a 
stern  old  soldier,  ninety  years  of  age,  the  same 
intrepid  spokesman  who,  for  his  hardihood  of 
tongue,  had  been  severely  maltreated  by  order  of 
the  Caliph  Othman.  They  were  reinforced  by 
Alashtar,  a  determined  officer,  who  had  been  em- 


ployed in  the  previous  mission,  and  irritated  by 
the  prevarications  of  Abu  Musa. 

Hassan  and  Ammar  were  received  with  cere- 
monious respect  by  the  governor,  and  their  mis- 
sion was  discussed,  according  to  usage,  in  the 
mosque,  but  Alashtar  remained  with  the  guard 
that  had  escorted  them.  The  envoys  pressed 
their  errand  with  warmth,  urging  the  necessity  of 
their  sending  immediate  succor  to  the  Caliph. 
Abu  Musa,  however,  who  prided  himself  more 
upon  words  than  deeds,  answered  them  by  an 
evasive  harangue  ;  signifying  his  doubts  of  the 
policy  of  their  proceeding  ;  counselling  that  the 
troops  should  return  to  Medina,  that  the  whole 
matter  in  dispute  should  be  investigated,  and  the 
right  to  rule  amicably  adjusted.  "It  is  a  bad 
business,"  added  he,  "  and  he  that  meddles  least 
with  it  stands  less  chance  of  doing  wrong.  For 
what  says  the  prophet  touching  an  evil  affair  of 
the  kind  ?  He  who  sleepeth  in  it  is  more  secure 
than  he  that  waketh  ;  he  that  lyeth  than  he  that 
sitteth  ;  he  that  sitteth  than  he  that  standeth  ;  he 
that  standeth  than  he  that  walketh  ;  and  he  that 
walketh  than  he  that  rideth.  Sheathe,  therefore, 
your  swords,  take  the  heads  from  your  lances,  and 
the  strings  from  your  bows,  and  receive  him  that 
is  injured  into  your  dwellings,  until  all  matters 
are  adjusted  and  reconciled." 

The  ancient  general,  Ammar,  replied  to  him 
tartly,  that  he  had  misapplied  the  words  of  the 
prophet,  which  were  meant  to  rebuke  such  servants 
as  himself,  who  were  better  sitting  than  stand- 
ing, and  sleeping  than  awake.  Abu  Musa  would 
have  answered  him  with  another  long  harangue 
in  favor  of  non-resistance,  but  was  interrupted  by 
the  sudden  entrance  of  a  number  of  his  soldiers, 
bearing  evidence  of  having  been  piteously  beaten. 
While  Abu  Musa  had  been  holding  forth  at  the 
mosque,  Alashtar,  the  hardy  officer  who  remained 
with  the  escort,  had  seized  upon  the  castle  of 
Cufa,  caused  the  garrison  to  be  soundly  scourged, 
and  sent  them  to  the  mosque  to  cut  short  the  ne- 
gotiation. This  prompt  measure  of  Alashtar 
placed  the  cold-spirited  conduct  of  Abu  Musa  in 
so  ridiculous  a  light  that  the  feelings  of  the  popu- 
lace were  instantly  turned  against  him.  Hassan, 
the  son  of  Ali,  seized  upon  the  moment  to  address 
the  assembly.  He  maintained  the  innocence  of 
his  father  in  regard  to  the  assassination  of  Oth- 
man. "  His  father,"  he  said,  "  had  either  done 
wrong,  or  had  suffered  wrong.  If  he  had  done 
wrong,  God  would  punish  him.  If  he  had  suffer- 
ed wrong,  God  would  help  him.  The  case  was 
in  the  hand  of  the  Most  High.  Telha  and  Zobeir, 
who  were  the  first  to  inaugurate  him,  were  the  first 
to  turn  against  him.  What  had  he  done,  as  Ca- 
liph, to  merit  such  opposition  ?  What  injustice 
had  he  committed  ?  What  covetous  or  selfish 
propensity  had  he  manifested  ?  I  am  going 
back  to  my  father,"  added  Hassan  ;  "  those  who 
are  disposed  to  render  him  assistance  may  foU 
low  me." 

His  eloquence  was  powerfully  effective,  and  the 
people  of  Cufa  followed  him  to  the  number  of 
nearly  nine  thousand.  In  the  mean  time  the  army 
of  Ali  had  been  reinforced  from  other  quarters,  , 
and  now  amounted  to  thirty  thousand  men,  all  of 
whom  had  seen  service.  When  he  appeared  with 
his  force  before  Bassora,  Ayesha  and  her  confed- 
erates were  dismayed,  and  began  to  treat  of  con- 
ciliation. Various  messages  passed  between  the 
hostile  parties,  and  Telha  and  Zobeir,  confiding  in 
the  honorable  faith  of  Ali,  had  several  interviews 
with  him. 

When  these  late   deadly    enemies  were    seen 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


145 


walking  backward  and  forward  together,  in  sight 
of  either  army,  and  holding  long  conversations,  it 
was  confidently  expected  that  a  peace  would  be 
effected  ;  and  such  would  have  been  the  case  had 
no  malign  influence  interfered  ;  for  Ali,  with  his 
impressive  eloquence,  touched  the  hearts  of  his 
opponents,  when  he  reproached  them  with  their 
breach  of  faith,  and  warned  them  against  the 
judgments  of  heaven.  "  Dost  thou  not  remem- 
ber," said  he  to  Zobeir,  "  how  Mahomet  once 
asked  thee  if  thou  didst  not  love  his  dear  son  Ali  ? 
and  when  thou  answered  yea,  dost  thou  not  re- 
member his  reply  :  '  Nevertheless  a  day  will 
come  when  thou  wilt  rise  up  against  him,  and 
draw  down  miseries  upon  him  and  upon  all  the 
faithful  '  ?" 

"  I  remember  it  well,"  replied  Zobeir,  "  and 
had  I  remembered  it  before,  never  would  I  have 
taken  up  arms  against  you." 

He  returned  to  his  camp  determined  not  to  fight 
against  Ali,  but  was  overruled  by  the  vindictive 
Ayesha.  Every  attempt  at  pacification  was  de- 
feated by  that  turbulent  woman,  and  the  armies 
were  at  length  brought  to  battle.  Ayesha  took  the 
field  on  that  memorable  occasion,  mounted  in  a 
litter  on  her  great  camel  Alascar,  and  rode  up 
and  down  among  her  troops!  animating  them  by 
her  presence  and  her  voice.  The  fight  was  called, 
from  that  circumstance,  The  Battle  of  the  Camel, 
and  also  The  Battle  of  Karibah,  from  the  field  on 
which  it  was  fought. 

It  was  an  obstinate  and  bloody  conflict,  for 
Moslem  was  arrayed  against  Moslem,  and  noth- 
ing is  so  merciless  and  unyielding  as  civil  war. 
In  the  heat  of  the  fight  Merwan  Ibn  Hakem,  who 
stood  near  Ali,  noticed  Telha  endeavoring  to 
goad  on  the  flagging  valor  of  his  troops.  "  Be- 
hold the  traitor  Telha,"  cried  he,  "  but  lately 
one  of  the  murderers  of  Othman,  now  the  pretend- 
ed avenger  of  his  blood."  So  saying,  he  let  fly 
an  arrow  and  wounded  him  in  the  leg.  Telha 
writhed  with  the  pain,  and  at  the  same  moment 
his  horse  reared  and  threw  him.  In  the  dismay 
and  anguish  of  the  moment  he  imprecated  the 
vengeance  of  Allah  upon  his  own  head  for  the 
death  of  Othman.  Seeing  his  boot  full  of  blood, 
he  made  one  of  his  followers  take  him  up  behind 
him  on  his  horse  and  convey  him  to  Bassora. 
Finding  death  approaching,  he  called  to  one  of 
Ali's  men  who  happened  to  be  present,  "  Give 
me  your  hand,"  said  the  dying  penitent,  "  that  I 
may  put  mine  in  it,  and  thus  renew  my  oath  of 
fealty  to  Ali."  With  these  words  he  expired. 
His  dying  speech  was  reported  to  Ali,  and  touch- 
ed his  generous  heart.  "  Allah,"  said  he, 
"  would  not  call  him  to  heaven  until  he  had  blot- 
ted out  his  first  breach  of  his  word  by  this  last 
vow  of  fidelity." 

Zobeir,  the  other  conspirator,  had  entered  into 
the  battle  with  a  heavy  heart.  His  previous  con- 
versation with  Ali  had  awakened  compunction  in 
his  bosom.  He  now  saw  that  old  Ammar  Ibn 
Yaser,  noted  for  probity  and  rectitude,  was  in  the 
Caliph's  host  ;  and  he  recollected  hearing  Ma- 
homet say  that  Ammar  Ibn  Yaser  would  always 
be  found  on  the  side  of  truth  and  justice.  With  a 
boding  spirit  he  drew  out  of  the  battle  and  took 
the  road  toward  Mecca.  As  he  was  urging  his 
melancholy  way  he  came  to  a  valley  crossed  by 
the  brook  Sabaa,  where  Hanef  Ibn  Kais  was  en- 
camped with  a  horde  of  Arabs,  awaiting  the  issue 
of  the  battle,  ready  to  join  the  conqueror  and 
share  the  spoil.  Hanef  knew  him  at  a  distance. 
"  Is  there  no  one,"  said  he,  "  to  bring  me  tidings 
of  Zobeir  ?"  One  of  his  men,  Amru  Ibn  Jarmuz, 


understood  the  hint,  and  spurred  to  overtake  Zo- 
beir. The  latter,  suspecting  his  intentions,  bade 
him  keep  at  a  distance.  A  short  conversation  put 
them  on  friendly  terms,  and  they  both  dismount- 
ed and  conversed  together.  The  hour  of  prayers 
arrived.  "  Salat"  (to  prayers  !)  cried  Zobeir. 
"  Salat,"  replied  Amru  ;  but  as  Zobeir  prostrated 
himself  in  supplication,  Amru  struck  off  his  head, 
and  hastened  with  it,  as  a  welcome  trophy,  to 
Ali.  That  generous  conqueror  shed  tears  over 
the  bleeding  head  of  one  who  was  once  his  friend. 
Then  turning  to  his  slayer,  "  Hence,  miscreant  !" 
cried  he,  "  and  carry  thy  tidings  to  Ben  Safiah  in. 
hell."  So  unexpected  a  malediction,  where  he 
expected  a  reward,  threw  Amru  into  a  transport 
of  rage  and  desperation  ;  he  uttered  a  rhapsody 
of  abuse  upon  Ali,  and  then,  drawing  his  sword,  < 
p.'unged  it  into  his  own  bosom. 

Such  was  the  end  of  the  two  leaders  of  the  reb-' 
els.  As  to  Ayesha,  the  implacable  soul  of  the  re- 
volt, she  had  mingled  that  day  in  the  hottest  of 
the  fight.  Tabari,  the  Persian  historian,  with 
national  exaggeration,  declares  that  the  heads  of 
threescore  and  ten  men  were  cut  off  that  held 
the  bridle  of  her  camel,  and  that  the  inclosed  litter 
in  which  she  rode  was  bristled  all  over  with  darts 
and  arrows.  At  last  her  camel  was  hamstringed, 
and  sank  with  her  to  the  ground,  and  she  remain- 
ed there  until  the  battle  was  concluded. 

Ayesha  might  have  looked  for  cruel  treatment 
at  the  hands  of  Ali,  having  been  his  vindictive 
and  persevering  enemy,  but  he  was  too  magnani-, 
mous  to  triumph  over  a  fallen  foe.  It  is  said  som<x 
reproachful  words  passed  between  them,  but  he 
treated  her  with  respect  ;  gave  her  an  attendance 
of  forty  females,  and  sent  his  sons  Hassan  and 
Hosein  to  escort  her  a  day's  journey  toward  Me- 
dina, where  she  was  confined  to  her  own  house, 
and  forbidden  to  intermeddle  any  more  with  af- 
fairs of  state.  He  then  divided  the  spoils  among 
the  heirs  of  his  soldiers  who  were  slain,  and  ap- 
pointed Abdallah  Ibn  Abbas  governor  of  Bassora. 
This  done,  he  repaired  to  Cuta,  and  in  reward  of 
the  assistance  he  had  received  from  its  inhabi- 
tants, made  that  city  the  seat  of  his  Caliphat. 
These  occurrences  took  place  in  the  thirty-fifth 
year  of  the  Hegira,  the  65  5th  of  the  Christian  era. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

BATTLES  BETWEEN  ALI  AND  MOAWYAH — THEIR 
CLAIMS  TO  THE  CALIPHAT  LEFT  TO  ARBITRA- 
TION  ;  THE  RESULT — DECLINE  OF  THE  POWER 
OF  ALI — LOSS  OF  EGYPT. 

THE  victory  at  Karibah  had  crushed  the  con- 
spiracy of  Ayesha,  and  given  Ali  quiet  dominion 
over  Egypt,  Arabia,  and  Persia  ;  still  his  most 
formidable  adversary  remained  unsubdued. 
Moawyah  Ibn  Abu  Sofian  held  sway  over  the 
wealthy  and  populous  province  of  Syria  ;  he  had 
immense  treasures  and  a  powerful  army  at  his 
command  ;  he  had  the  prejudices  of  the  Syrians 
in  his  favor,  who  had  been  taught  to  implicate  Ali 
in  the  murder  of  Othman,  and  refused  to  acknowl- 
edge him  as  Caliph.  Still  further  to  strengthen 
himself  in  defiance  of  the  sovereign  power,  he 
sought  the  alliance  of  Amru,  who  had  been  dis- 
placed from  the  government  of  Egypt  by  Ali,  and 
was  now  a  discontented  man  in  Palestine.  Res- 
toration to  that  command  was  to  be  the  reward 
of  his  successful  co-operation  with  Moawyah  in 


146 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS, 


deposing  All  ;  the  terms  were  accepted  ;  Amru 
hastened  to  Damascus  at  the  head  of  a  devoted 
force  ;  and  finding  the  public  mind  ripe  for  his 
purpose,  gave  the  hand  of  allegiance  to  Moawyah 
in  presence  of  the  assembled  army,  and  proclaim- 
ed him  Caliph,  amid  the  shouts  ot  the  multitude. 

Ali  had  in  vain  endeavored  to  prevent  the  hos- 
tility of  Moawyah,  by  all  conciliatory  means  ; 
when  he  heard  of  this  portentous  alliance  he  took 
the  field  and  marched  for  Syria,  at  the  head  of 
ninety  thousand  men.  The  Arabians,  with  their 
accustomed  fondness  for  the  marvellous,  signal- 
ize his  entrance  into  the  confines  of  Syria  with  an 
omen.  Having  halted  his  army  in  a  place  where 
there  was  no  water,  he  summoned  a  Christian 
hermit,  who  lived  in  a  neighboring  cave,  and  de- 
manded to  be  shown  a  well.  The  anchorite  as- 
sured him  that  there  was  nothing  but  a  cistern, 
in  which  there  were  scarce  three  buckets  of  rain 
water.  Ali  maintained  that  certain  prophets  of 
the  people  of  Israel  had  abode  there  in  times  of 
old,  and  had  digged  a  well  there.  The  hermit 
replied  that  a  well  did  indeed  exist  there,  but  it 
had  been  shut  up  for  ages,  and  all  traces  of  it 
lost,  and  it  was  only  to  be  discovered  and  reopen- 
ed by  a  predestined  hand.  He  then,  says  the 
Arabian  tradition,  produced  a  parchment  scroll 
written  by  Simeon  ben  Safa  (Simon  Cephas),  one 
of  the  greatest  apostles  of  Jesus  Christ,  predicting 
the  coming  of  Mahomet,  the  last  of  the  prophets, 
and  that  this  well  would  be  discovered  and  re- 
opened by  his  lawful  heir  and  successor. 
.  Ali  listened  with  becoming  reverence  to  this  pre- 
diction ;  then  turning  to  his  attendants  and  point- 
ing to  a  spot,  "Dig  there,"  said  he.  They  dig- 
ged, and  after  a  time  came  to  an  immense  stone, 
which  having  removed  with  difficulty,  the  mirac- 
ulous well  stood  revealed,  affording  a  seasonable 
supply  to  the  army,  and  an  unquestionable  proof  of 
the  legitimate  claim  of  Ali  to  the  Caliphat.  The 
venerable  hermit  was  struck  with  conviction  ;  he 
fell  at  the  feet  of  Ali,  embraced  his  knees,  and 
never  afterward  would  leave  him. 

It  was  on  the  first  day  of  the  thirty-seventh  year 
of  the  Hegira  (i8th  June,  A.D.  657),  that  AH 
came  in  sight  of  the  army  of  Moawyah,  consisting 
of  eighty  thousand  men,  encamped  on  the  plain 
of  Seffein,  on  the  banks  ot  the  Euphrates,  on  the 
confines  of  Babylonia  and  Syria.  Associated  with 
Moawyah  was  the  redoubtable  Amru,  a  powerful 
ally  both  in  council  and  in  the  field.  The  army 
of  Ali  was  superior  in  number  ;  in  his  host,  too, 
he  had  several  veterans  who  had  fought  under 
Mahomet  in  the  famous  battle  of  Beder,  and 
thence  prided  themselves  in  the  surname  of  Sha- 
habah  ;  that  is  to  say,  Companions  of  the 
Prophet.  The  most  distinguished  of  these  was 
old  Ammar  Ibn  Yaser,  Ali's  general  of  horse, 
who  had  fought  repeatedly  by  the  side  of  Ma- 
homet. He  was  ninety  years  of  age,  yet  full  of 
spirit  and  activity,  and  idolized  by  the  Moslem 
soldiery. 

The  armies  lay  encamped  in  sight  of  each  other, 
but  as  it  was  the  first  month  of  the  Moslem  year, 
a  sacred  month,  when  all  warfare  is  prohibited,  it 
was  consumed  in  negotiations  ;  for  Alt  still  wish- 
ed to  avoid  the  effusion  of  kindred  blood.  His 
efforts  were  in  vain,  and  in  the  next  month  hostili- 
ties commenced  ;  still  Ali  drew  his  sword  with  an 
unwilling  hand  ;  he  charged  his  soldiers  never  to 
be  the  first  to  fight  ;  never  to  harm  those  who 
fled,  and  never  to  do  violence  to  a  woman.  Moa- 
wyah and  Amru  were  likewise  sensible  of  the  un- 
natural character  of  this  war  ;  the  respective 
leaders,  therefore,  avoided  any  general  action, 


and  months  passed  in  mere  skirmishings.  These, 
however,  were  sharp  and  sanguinary,  and  in  the 
course  of  four  months  Moawyah  is  said  to  have 
lost  five-and-forty  thousand  men,  and  Ali  more 
than  half  that  number. 

Among  the  slain  on  the  part  of  Ali  were  five- 
and-twenty  of  the  Shahabah,  the  veterans  of  Be- 
der, and  companions  of  the  prophet.  Their  deaths 
were  deplored  even  by  the  enemy  ;  but  nothing 
caused  greater  grief  than  the  fall  of  the  brave  old 
Ammar  Ibn  Yaser,  Ali's  general  of  horse,  and  the 
patriarch  ot  Moslem  chivalry.  Moawyah  and 
Amru  beheld  him  fall.  "  Do  you  see,"  cried 
Moawyah,  "  what  precious  lives  are  lost  in  our 
dissensions  ?"  "  See,"  exclaimed  Amru  ;  "  would 
to  God  I  had  died  twenty  years  since  !" 

Ali  forgot  his  usual  moderation  on  beholding 
the  late  of  his  brave  old  general  of  the  horse,  and 
putting  himself  at  the  head  of  twelve  thousand 
cavalry,  made  a  furious  charge  to  avenge  his 
death.  The  ranks  of  the  enemy  were  broken  by 
the  shock  ;  but  the  heart  of  Ali  soon  relented  at 
the  sight  of  carnage.  Spurring  within  call  of 
Moawyah,  "  Ho\v  long,"  cried  he,  "  shall  Moslem 
blood  be  shed  like  water  in  our  strife  ?  Come 
forth,  and  let  Allah  decide  between  us.  Which- 
ever is  victor  in  the  fight,  let  him  be  ruler." 

Amru  was  struck  with  the  generous  challenge, 
and  urged  Moawyah  to  accept  it  ;  but  the  latter 
shunned  an  encounter  with  an  enemy  surnamed 
"  The  Lion,"  for  his  prowess,  and  who  had  always 
slain  his  adversary  in  single  fight.  Amru  hinted 
at  the  aisgrace  that  would  attend  his  refusal  ;  to 
which  Moawyah  answered  with  a  sneer,  "  You 
do  wisely  to  provoke  a  combat  that  may  make  you 
governor  of  Syria." 

A  desperate  battle  at  length  took  place,  which 
continued  throughout  the  night.  Many  were 
slain  on  both  sides  ;  but  most  on  the  part  of  the 
Syrians.  Alashtar  was  the  hero  of  this  fight  ;  he 
was  mounted  upon  a  piebald  horse,  and  wielded 
a  two-edged  sword  ;  every  stroke  of  that  terrible 
weapon  clove  down  a  warrior,  and  every  stroke 
was  accompanied  by  the  shout  of  Allah  Achbar  ! 
He  was  heard  to  utter  that  portentous  exclama- 
tion, say  the  Arabian  historians,  four  hundred 
times  during  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

The  day  dawned  disastrously  upon  the  Syrians. 
Alashtar  was  pressing  them  to  their  very  encamp- 
ment, and  Moawyah  was  in  despair,  when  Amru 
suggested  an  expedient,  founded  on  the  religious 
scruples  of  the  Moslems.  On  a  sudden  the  Syr- 
ians elevated  the  Koran  on  the  points  of  their 
lances,  "  Behold  the  book  of  God,"  cried  they. 
"  Let  that  decide  our  differences."  The  soldiers 
of  Ali  instantly  dropped  the  points  of  their  weap- 
ons. It  was  in  vain  Ali  represented  that  this  was 
all  a  trick,  and  endeavored  to  urge  them  on. 
"  What  !"  cried  they,  "  do  you  refuse  to  submit  to 
the  decision  of  the  book  of  God  ?" 

Ali  found  that  to  persist  would  be  to  shock  their 
bigot  prejudices,  and  to  bring  a  storm  upon  his 
own  head  ;  reluctantly,  therefore,  he  sounded  a 
retreat  ;  but  it  required  repeated  blasts  to  call  off 
Alashtar,  who  came,  his  scimetar  dripping  with 
blood,  and  murmuring  at  being,  as  he  said,  trick- 
ed out  of  so  glorious  a  victory. 

Umpires  were  now  appointed  to  settle  this  great 
dispute  according  to  the  dictates  of  the  Koran. 
Ali  would  have  nominated  on  his  part  Abdallah 
Ibn  Abbas,  but  he  was  objected  to,  as  being  his 
cousin-german.  He  then  named  the  brave  Alash- 
tar, but  he  was  likewise  set  aside,  and  Abu  Musa 
pressed  upon  him,  an  upright,  but  simple  and 
somewhat  garrulous  man,  as  has  already  been 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


147 


shown.  As  to  Moawyah,  he  managed  on  his  part 
to  have  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass  appointed,  the  shrewd- 
est and  most  sagacious  man  in  all  Arabia.  The 
two  rival  leaders  then  retired,  AH  to  Cufa,  and 
Moawyah  to  Damascus,  leaving  generals  in  com- 
mand ot  their  respective  armies. 

The  arbitrators  met  several  months  afterward 
at  Jumat  al  Joudel,  in  presence  of  both  armies,  who 
were  pledged  to  support  their  decision.  Amru, 
who  understood  the  weak  points  of  Musa's  char- 
acter, treated  him  with  great  deference,  and  after 
having  won  his  confidence,  persuaded  him  that, 
to  heal  these  dissensions,  and  prevent  the  shed- 
ding of  kindred  blood,  it  would  be  expedient  to 
set  aside  both  candidates  and  let  the  faithful  elect 
a  third.  This  being  agreed  upon,  a  tribunal  was 
erected  between  the  armies,  and  Amru,  through 
pretended  deference,  insisted  that  Musa  should  be 
the  first  to  ascend  it  and  address  the  people.  Abu 
Musa  accordingly  ascended,  and  proclaimed  with 
a  loud  voice,  "  I  depose  Ali  and  Moawyah  from 
the  office  to  which  they  pretend,  even  as  I  draw 
this  ring  from  my  finger."  So  saying  he  de- 
scended. 

Amru  now  mounted  in  his  turn.  "  You  have 
heard,"  said  he,  "  how  Musa  on  his  part  has  de- 
posed Ali  ;  I  on  my  part  depose  him  also  ;  and  I 
adjudge  the  Caliphat  to  Moawyah,  and  invest  him 
with  it,  as  I  invest  my  finger  with  this  ring  ;  and 
I  do  it  with  justice,  for  he  is  the  rightful  successor 
and  avenger  of  Othman." 

Murmurs  succeeded  from  the  partisans  of  Ali, 
and  from  Abu  Musa,  who  complained  of  the  insin- 
cerity of  Amru.  The  Syrians  applauded  the  de- 
cision, and  both  parties,  being  prevented  from 
hostilities  by  a  solemn  truce,  separated  without 
any  personal  violence,  but  with  mutual  revilings 
and  augmented  enmity.  A  kind  of  religious  feud 
sprang  up,  which  continued  for  a  long  time  be- 
tween the  house  of  Ali  and  that  of  Ommiah  ;  they 
never  mentioned  each  other  without  a  curse,  and 
pronounced  an  excommunication  upon  each  other 
whenever  they  harangued  the  people  in  the 
mosque. 

The  power  of  Ali  now  began  to  wane  ;  the  de- 
cision pronounced  against  him  influenced  many 
of  his  own  party,  and  a  revolt  was  at  length  stirred 
up  among  his  followers,  by  a  set  of  fanatic  zealots 
called  Karigites  or  seceders,  who  insisted  that  he 
had  done  wrong  in  referring  to  the  judgment  of 
men  what  ought  to  be  decided  by  God  alone  ; 
and  that  he  had  refused  to  break  the  truce  and 
massacre  his  enemies  when  in  his  power,  though 
they  had  proved  themselves  to  be  the  enemies  of 
God  ;  they  therefore  renounced  allegiance  to  him  ; 
appointed  Abdallah  Ibn  Waheb  as  their  leader, 
and  set  up  their  standard  at  Naharwan,  a  few 
miles  from  Bagdad,  whither  the  disaffected  repair- 
ed from  all  quarters,  until  they  amounted  to 
twenty-five  thousand. 

The  appearance  of  Ali  with  an  army  brought 
many  of  them  to  their  senses.  Willing  to  use 
gentle  measures,  he  caused  a  standard  to  be  erect- 
ed outside  of  his  camp,  and  proclaimed  a  pardon 
to  such  of  the  malcontents  as  should  rally  round 
it.  The  rebel  army  immediately  began  to  melt 
away  until  Abdallah  Ibn  Waheb  was  left  with 
only  four  thousand  adherents.  These,  however, 
were  fierce  enthusiasts,  and  their  leader  was  a 
fanatic.  Trusting  that  Allah  and  the  prophet 
would  render  him  miraculous  assistance,  he  at- 
tacked the  army  of  Ali  with  his  handful  of  men, 
who  fought  with  such  desperation  that  nine  only 
escaped.  These  served  as  firebrands  to  enkindle 
future  mischief. 


Moawyah  had  now  recourse  to  a  stratagem  to 
sow  troubles  in  Egypt,  and  ultimately  to  put  it  in 
the  hands  of  Amru.  Ali,  on  assuming  the  Cal- 
iphat, had  appointed  Saad  Ibn  Kais  to  the  govern- 
ment of  that  province,  who  administered  its  affairs 
with  ability.  Moawyah  now  forged  a  letter  from 
Saad  to  himself,  professing  devotion  to  his  inter-t 
ests,  and  took  measures  to  let  it  fall  into  the  hands 
of  Ali.  The  plan  was  successful.  The  suspi- 
cions of  Ali  were  excited  ;  he  recalled  Saad  and 
appointed  in  his  place  Mahomet,  son  ot  Abu  Be- 
ker,  and  brother  of  Ayesha.  Mahomet  began  to 
govern  with  a  high  hand,  proscribing  and  exiling 
the  leaders  of  the  Othman  faction,  who  made  the 
murder  of  the  late  Caliph  a  question  of  party. 
This  immediately  produced  commotions  and  in- 
surrections, and  all  Egypt  was  getting  into  a 
blaze.  Ali  again  sought  to  remedy  the  evil  by 
changing  the  governor,  and  dispatched  Malec 
Shutur,  a  man  of  prudence  and  ability,  to  take 
the  command.  In  the  course  of  his  journey  Malec 
lodged  one  night  at  the  house  of  a  peasant,  on  the 
confines  of  Arabia  and  Egypt.  The  peasant  was 
a  creature  of  Moawyah's,  and  poisoned  his  unsus- 
pecting guest  with  a  pot  of  honey.  Moawyah  fol- 
lowed up  this  treacherous  act  by  sending  Amru 
with  six  thousand  horse  to  seize  upon  Egypt  in  its 
present  stormy  state.  Amru  hastened  with  joy  to 
the  scene  of  his  former  victories,  made  his  way 
rapidly  to  Alexandria,  united  his  force  with  that 
ot  Ibn  Sharig,  the  leader  of  the  Othman  party, 
and  they  together  routed  Mahomet  Ibn  Abu  Be- 
ker,  and  took  him  prisoner.  The  avengers  of  Oth- 
man reviled  Mahomet  with  his  assassination  of 
that  Caliph,  put  him  to  death,  enclosed  his  body  in 
the  carcass  of  an  ass,  and  burnt  both  to  ashes. 
Then  Amru  assumed  the  government  of  Egypt  as 
lieutenant  ot  Moawyah. 

When  Ayesha  heard  of  ;he  death  of  her  brother, 
she  knelt  down  in  the  mosque,  and  in  the  agony 
of  her  heart  invoked  a  curse  upon  Moawyah  and 
Ainru,  an  invocation  which  she  thenceforth  re- 
peated at  the  end  of  all  her  prayers.  Ali,  also, 
was  afflicted  at  the  death  of  Mahomet,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  The  murderers  will  answer  for  this  be- 
fore God." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

PREPARATIONS    OF    ALI    FOR    THE    INVASION    OF 
SYRIA — HIS   ASSASSINATION. 

THE  loss  of  Egypt  was  a  severe  blow  to  the  for- 
tunes of  Ali,  and  he  had  the  mortification  subse- 
quently to  behold  his  active  rival  make  himself 
master  of  Hejaz,  plant  his  standard  on  the  sacred 
cities  of  Mecca  and  Medina,  and  ravage  the  fer- 
tile province  of  Yemen.  The  decline  of  his  power 
affected  his  spirits,  and  he  sank  at  times  into  de- 
spondency. His  melancholy  was  aggravated  by 
the  conduct  of  his  own  brother  Okail,  who,  under 
pretence  that  Ali  did  not  maintain  him  in  suitable 
style,  deserted  him  in  his  sinking  fortunes,  and 
went  over  to  Moawyah,  who  rewarded  his  unnat- 
ural desertion  with  ample  revenues. 

Still  Ali  meditated  one  more  grand  effort.  Sixty 
thousand  devoted  adherents  pledged  themselves 
to  stand  by  him  to  the  death,  and  with  these  he 
prepared  to  march  into  Syria.  While  prepara- 
tions were  going  on,  it  chanced  that  three  zealots, 
of  the  sect  of  Karigites,  met  as  pilgrims  in  the 
mosque  of  Mecca,  and  fell  into  conversation  about 


148 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


the  battle  of  Naharwan,  wherein  four  thousand  of 
their  brethren  had  lost  their  lives.  This  led  to 
lamentations  over  the  dissensions  and  dismember- 
ment of  the  Moslem  empire,  all  which  they  attrib- 
uted to  the  ambition  of  Ali,  Moawyah,  and  Amru. 
The  Karigites  were  a  fanatic  sect,  and  these  men 
^were  zealots  of  that  dangerous  kind  who  are  ready- 
to  sacrifice  their  lives  in  the  accomplishment  of 
any  bigot  plan.  In  their  infuriate  zeal  they  deter- 
mined that  the  only  way  to  restore  peace  and 
unity  to  Islam  would  be  to  destroy  those  three 
ambitious  leaders,  and  they  devoted  themselves 
to  the  task,  each  undertaking  to  dispatch  his 
victim.  The  several  assassinations  were  to  be 
effected  at  the  same  time,  on  Friday,  the  seven- 
teenth of  the  month  Ramadan,  at  the  hour  of 
prayer  ;  and  that  their  blows  might  be  infallibly 
mortal,  they  were  to  use  poisoned  weapons. 

The  names  of  the  conspirators  were  Barak  Ibn 
Abdallah,  Amru  Ibn  Asi,  and  Abda'lrahman  Ibn 
Melgem.  Barak  repaired  to  Damascus  and 
mingled  in  the  retinue  of  Moawyah  on  the  day 
appointed,  which  was  the  Moslem  sabbath  ;  then, 
as  the  usurper  was  officiating  in  the  mosque  as 
pontiff,  Barak  gave  him  what  he  considered  a 
fatal  blow.  The  wound  was  desperate,  but  the 
life  of  Moawyah  was  saved  by  desperate  reme- 
dies ;  the  assassin  was  mutilated  of  hands  and 
feet  and  suffered  to  live,  but  was  slain  in  after 
years  by  a  friend  of  Moawyah. 

Amru  Ibn  Asi,  the  second  of  these  fanatics,  en- 
tered the  mosque  in  Egypt  on  the  same  day  and 
hour,  and  with  one  blow  killed  Karijah,  the 
Imam,  who  officiated,  imagining  him  to  be  Amru 
Ibn  al  Aass,  who  was  prevented  from  attending 
the  mosque  through  illness.  The  assassin  being 
led  before  his  intended  victim,  and  informed  of 
his  error,  replied  with  the  resignation  of  a  pre- 
destinarian,  "  I  intended  Amru  ;  but  Allah  in- 
tended Karijah."  He  was  presently  executed. 

Abda'lrahman,  the  third  assassin,  repaired  to 
Cufa,  where  Ali  held  his  court.  Here  he  lodged 
with  a  woman  of  the  sect  of  the  Karigites,  whose 
husband  had  been  killed  in  the  battle  of  Nahar- 
wan. To  this  woman  he  made  proposals  of  mar- 
riage, but  she  replied  she  would  have  no  man  who 
could  not  bring  her,  as  a  dowry,  three  thousand 
drachms  of  silver,  a  slave,  a  maid-servant,  and 
the  head  of  Ali.  He  accepted  the  conditions, 
and  joined  two  other  Karigites,  called  Derwan 
and  Shabib,  with  him  in  the  enterprise.  They 
stationed  themselves  in  the  mosque  to  await  the 
coming  of  the  Caliph. 

Ali  had  recently  been  afflicted  with  one  of  his 
fits  of  despondency,  and  had  uttered  ejaculations 
which  were  afterward  considered  presages  of  his 
impending  fate.  In  one  of  his  melancholy  moods 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  Alas,  my 
heart  !  there  is  need  of  patience,  for  there  is  no 
remedy  against  death  !"  In  parting  from  his 
house  to  go  to  the  mosque,  there  was  a  clamor 
among  his  domestic  fowls,  which  he  interpreted 
into  a  fatal  omen.  As  he  entered  the  mosque  the 
assassins  drew  their  swords  and  pretended  to  be 
fighting  among  themselves  ;  Derwan  aimed  a 
blow  at  the  Caliph,  but  it  fell  short,  and  struck 
the  gate  of  the  mosque  ;  a  blow  from  Abda'lrah- 
man was  better  aimed,  and  wounded  Ali  in  the 
head.  The  assassins  then  separated  and  fled. 
Derwan  was  pursued  and  slain  at  the  threshold  of 
his  home  ;  Shabib  distanced  his  pursuers  and  es- 
caped. Abda'lrahaman,  after  some  search,  was 
discovered  hidden  in  a  corner  of  the  mosque,  his 
sword  still  in  his  hand.  He  was  dragged  forth 
and  brought  before  the  Caliph.  The  wound  of 


Ali  was  pronounced  mortal  ;  he  consigned  his 
murderer  to  the  custody  of  his  son  Hassan,  add- 
ing, with  his  accustomed  clemency,  "  Let  him 
want  for  nothing  ;  and,  if  I  die  of  my  wound,  let 
him  not  be  tortured  ;  let  his  death  be  by  a  single 
blow."  His  orders,  according  to  the  Persian 
writers,  were  strictly  complied  with,  but  the  Ara- 
bians declare  that  he  was  killed  by  piecemeal  ; 
and  the  Moslems  opposed  to  the  sect  of  Ali  hold 
him  up  as  a  martyr. 

The  death  of  Ali  happened  within  three  days 
after  receiving  his  wound  :  it  was  in  the  fortieth 
year  of  the  Hegira,  A.D.  660.  He  was  about  sixty- 
three  years  of  age,  of  which  he  had  reigned  not 
quite  five.  His  remains  were  interred  about  five 
miles  from  Cufa  ;  and,  in  after  times,  a  magnifi- 
cent tomb,  covered  by  a  mosque,  with  a  splendid 
dome,  rose  over  his  grave,  and  it  became  the  site 
of  a  city  called  Meshed  Ali,  or,  the  Sepulchre  of 
Ali,  and  was  enriched  and  beautified  by  many 
Persian  monarchs. 

We  make  no  concluding  comments  on  the  no- 
ble and  generous  character  of  Ali,  which  has  been 
sufficiently  illustrated  throughout  all  the  recorded 
circumstances  of  his  life.  He  was  one  of  the  last 
and  worthiest  of  the  primitive  Moslems,  who  im- 
bibed his  religious  enthusiasm  from  companion- 
ship with  the  prophet  himself  ;  and  \vho  followed, 
to  the  last,  the  simplicity  of  his  example.  He  is 
honorably  spoken  of  as  the  first  Caliph  who  ac- 
corded some  protection  to  Belles-Lettres.  He  in- 
dulged in  the  poetic  vein  himself,  and  many  of  his 
maxims  and  proverbs  are  preserved,  and  have 
been  translated  into  various  languages.  His 
signet  bore  this  inscription  :  "  The  kingdom  be- 
longs to  God."  One  of  his  sayings  shows  the 
little  value  he  set  upon  the  transitory  glories  of 
this  world.  . "  Life  is  but  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  ; 
the  dream  of  a  sleeper." 

By  his  first  wife,  Fatima,  the  daughter  of  Ma- 
homet, he  had  three  sons,  Mohassan,  who  died 
young,  and  Hassan  and  Hosein  who  survived 
him.  After  her  death  he  had  eight  other  wives, 
and  his  issue,  in  all,  amounted  to  fifteen  sons  and 
eighteen  daughters.  His  descendants,  by  Fa- 
tima, are  distinguished  among  Moslems  as  de- 
scendants of  the  prophet,  and  are  very  numerous, 
being  reckoned  both  by  the  male  and  female  line. 
They  wear  turbans  of  a  peculiar  fashion,  and 
twist  their  hair  in  a  different  manner  from  other 
Moslems.  They  are  considered  of  noble  blood, 
and  designated  in  different  countries  by  various 
titles,  such  as  Sheriffs,  Fatimites,  and  Emirs. 
The  Persians  venerate  Ali  as  next  to  the  prophet, 
and  solemnize  the  anniversary  of  his  martyrdom. 
The  Turks  hold  him  in  abhorrence,  and  for  a  long 
time,  in  their  prayers,  accompanied  his  name  with 
execrations,  but  subsequently  abated  in  their  vi- 
olence. It  is  said  that  Ali  was  born  in  the  Caaba, 
or  holy  temple  of  Mecca,  where  his  mother  was 
suddenly  taken  in  labor,  and  that  he  was  the  only 
person  of  such  distinguished  birth. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

SUCCESSION  OF  HASSAN,  FIFTH   CALIPH — HE  AB- 
DICATES  IN   FAVOR  OF   MOAWYAH. 

IN  his  dying  moments  Ali  had  refused  to  nom- 
inate a  successor,  but  his  eldest  son  Hassan, 
then  in  his  37th  year,  was  elected  without  opposi- 
tion. He  stood  high  in  the  favor  of  the  people, 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


149 


partly  from  his  having  been  a  favorite  with  his 
grandfather,  the  prophet,  to  whom  in  his  features 
he  bore  a  strong  resemblance  ;  but  chiefly  from 
the  moral  excellence  of  his  character,  for  he  was 
upright,  sincere,  benevolent,  and  devout.  He 
lacked,  however,  the  energy  and  courage  neces- 
sary to  a  sovereignty,  where  the  sceptre  was  a 
sworcl  ;  and  he  was  unfitted  to  command  in  the 
civil  wars  which  distracted  the  empire,  for  he  had 
a  horror  of  shedding  Moslem  blood.  He  made  a 
funeral  speech  over  his  father's  remains,  showing 
that  his  death  was  coincident  with  great  and  sol- 
emn events.  "  He  was  slain,"  said  he,  "  on  the 
same  night  of  the  year  in  which  the  Koran  was 
transmitted  to  earth  ;  in  which  Isa  (Jesus)  was 
taken  up  to  heaven,  and  in  which  Joshua,  the  son 
of  Nun,  was  killed.  By  Allah  !  none  of  his 
predecessors  surpassed  him,  nor  will  he  ever  be 
equalled  by  a  successor." 

Then  Kais,  a  trusty  friend  of  the  house  of  AH, 
commenced  the  inauguration  of  the  new  Caliph. 
"  Stretch  forth  thy  hand,"  said  he  to  Hassan,  "  in 
pledge  that  thou  wilt  stand  by  the  book  of  God, 
and  the  tradition  of  the  apostle,  and  make  war 
against  all  opposers."  Hassan  complied  with 
the  ceremonial,  and  was  proclaimed  Caliph,  and 
the  people  were  called  upon  to  acknowledge  al- 
legiance to  him,  and  engage  to  maintain  peace 
with  his  friends,  and  war  with  his  enemies. 
Some  of  the  people,  however,  with  the  character- 
istic fickleness  of  Babylonians,  murmured  at  the 
suggestion  of  further  warfare,  and  said,  we  want 
no  fighting  Caliph. 

Had  Hassan  consulted  his  own  inclination,  he 
would  willingly  have  clung  to  peace,  and  sub- 
mitted to  the  usurpations  of  Moawyah  ;  but  he 
was  surrounded  by  valiant  generals  eager  for 
action,  and  stimu'ated  by  his  brother  Hosein, 
who  inherited  the  daring  character  of  their  father  ; 
besides,  there  were  sixty  thousand  fighting  men, 
all  ready  for  the  field,  and  who  had  been  on  the 
point  ot  marching  into  Syria  under  Ali.  Unwill- 
ingly, therefore,  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  this 
force'  and  commenced  his  march.  Receiving  in- 
telligence that  Moawyah  had  already  taken  the 
field  and  was  advancing  to  meet  him,  he  sent  Kais 
in  the  advance,  with  12,000  light  troops,  to  hold 
the  enemy  in  check,  while  he  followed  with  the 
main  army.  Kais  executed  his  commission  with 
spirit,  had  a  smart  skirmish  with  the  Syrians,  and 
having  checked  them  in  their  advance,  halted  and 
put  himself  in  a  position  to  await  the  coming  of 
the  Caliph. 

Hassan,  however,  had  already  become  sensible 
of  his  incompetency  to  military  command.  There 
was  disaffection  among  some  of  his  troops,  who 
were  people  of  Irak  or  Babylonia,  disinclined  to 
this  war.  On  reaching  the  city  of  Madayn,  an 
affray  took  place  among  the  soldiers  in  which  one 
was  slain  ;  a  fierce  tumult  succeeded  ;  Hassan 
attempted  to  interfere,  but  was  jostled  and  wound- 
ed-in  the  throng,  and  obliged  to  retire  into  the  cit- 
adel. He  had  taken  refuge  from  violence,  and 
was  in  danger  of  treason,  for  the  nephew  of  the 
governor  of  Madayn  proposed  to  his  uncle,  now 
that  he  had  Hassan  within  his  castle,  to  make  him 
his  prisoner,  and  send  him  in  chains  to  Moawyah. 
"  A  curse  upon  thee  for  a  traitor  and  an  infidel  !" 
cried  the  honest  old  governor  ;  "  woulclst  thou 
betray  the  son  of  the  daughter  of  the  Apostle  of 
Gocl  ?" 

The  mild-tempered  Caliph,  who  had  no  ambi- 
tion of  command,  was  already  disheartened  by  its 
troubles.  He  saw  that  he  had  an  active  and 
powerful  enemy  to  contend  with,  and  fickleness 


and  treachery  among  his  own  people  ;  he  sent 
proposals  to  Moawyah,  offering  to  resign  the  Cal- 
iphat  to  him,  on  condition  that  he  should  be  al- 
lowed to  retain  the  money  in  the  public  treasury 
at  Cufa,  and  the  revenues  of  a  great  estate  in  Per- 
sia, and  that  Moawyah  would  desist  from  all  evil- 
speaking  against  his  deceased  father.  Moawyah 
assented  to  the  two  former  of  these  stipulations, 
but  would  only  consent  to  refrain  from  speaking 
evil  of  Ali  in  presence  of  Hassan  ;  and  indeed 
such  was  the  sectarian  hatred  already  engendered 
against  Ali,  that,  under  the  sway  of  Moawyah, 
his  name  was  never  mentioned  in  the  mosques 
without  a  curse,  and  such  continued  to  be  the 
case  for  several  generations  under  the  dominion 
of  the  house  of  Ommiah. 

Another  condition  exacted  by  Hassan,  and 
which  ultimately  proved  fatal  to  him,  was  that  he 
should  be  entitled  to  resume  the  Caliphat  on  the 
death  of  Moawyah,  who  was  above  a  score  of 
years  his  senior.  These  terms  being  satisfacto- 
rily adjusted,  Hassan  abdicated  in  favor  of  Moa- 
wyah, to  the  great  indignation  of  his  brother  Ho- 
sein, who  considered  the  memory  of  their  father 
Ali  dishonored  by  this  arrangement.  The  people 
of  Cufa  refused  to  comply  with  that  condition  rel- 
ative to  the  public  treasury,  insisting  upon  it  that 
it  was  their  property.  Moawyah,  however,  allow- 
ed Hassan  an  immense  revenue,  with  which  he 
retired  with  his  brother  to  Medina,  to  enjoy  that 
ease  and  tranquillity  which  he  so  much  prized. 
His  lite  was  exemplary  and  devout,  and  the  great- 
er part  of  his  revenue  was  expended  in  acts  of 
charity. 

Moawyah  seems  to  have  been  well  aware  of  the 
power  of  gold  in  making  the  most  distasteful 
things  palatable.  An  old  beldame  ot  the  lineage 
of  Haschem,  and  branch  of  Ali,  once  reproached 
him  with  having  supplanted  that  family,  who 
were  his  cousins,  and  with  having  acted  toward 
them  as  Pharaoh  did  toward  the  children  of  Is- 
rael. Moawyah  gently  replied,  "  May  Allah  par- 
don what  is  past,"  and  inquired  what  were  her 
wants.  She  said  two  thousand  pieces  of  gold  for 
her  poor  relations,  two  thousand  as  a  dower  for 
her  children,  and  two  thousand  as  a  support  for 
herself.  The  money  was  given  instantly,  and  the 
tongue  of  the  clamorous  virago  was  silenced. 


CHAPTER   XLII. 

REIGN  OF  MOAWYAH  I.,  SIXTH  CALIPH— ACCOUNT 
OF  HIS  ILLEGITIMATE  BROTHER  ZEYAD — DEATH 
OF  AMRU. 

MOAWYAH  now,  in  the  forty-first  year  of  the  He- 
gira,  assumed  legitimate  dominion  over  the  whole 
Moslem  empire.  The  Karigites,  it  is  true,  a  fa- 
natic sect  opposed  to  all  regular  government, 
spiritual  or  temporal,  excited  an  insurrection  in 
Syria,  but  Moawyah  treated  them  with  more 
thorough  rigor  than  his  predecessors,  and  finding 
the  Syrians  not  sufficient  to  cope  with  them,  called 
in  his  new  subjects,  the  Babylonians,  to  show 
their  allegiance  by  rooting  out  this  pestilent  sect  ; 
nor  did  he  stay  his  hand  until  they  were  almost 
exterminated. 

With  this  Caliph  commenced  the  famous  dy- 
nasty of  the  Ommiades  or  Omeyades,  so  called 
from  Ommiah  his  great-grandfather  ;  a  dynasty 
which  lasted  for  many  generations,  and  gave  some 
of  the  most  brilliant  names  to  Arabian  history. 


150 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Moawyah  himself  gave  indications  of  intellectual 
refinement.  He  surrounded  himself  with  men 
distinguished  in  science  or  gifted  with  poetic  tal- 
ent, and  from  the  Greek  provinces  and  islands 
which  he  had  subdued,  the  Greek  sciences  began 
to  make  their  way,  and  under  his  protection  to  ex- 
*  ert  their  first  influence  on  the  Arabs. 

One  of  the  measures  adopted  by  Moawyah  to 
strengthen  himself  in  the  Caliphat  excited  great 
sensation,  and  merits  particular  detail.  At  the 
time  of  the  celebrated  flight  of  Mahomet,  Abu 
Sofian,  father  of  Moawyah,  at  that  time  chief  of 
the  tribe  of  Koreish,  and  as  yet  an  inveterate  per- 
secutor of  the  prophet,  halted  one  day  for  refresh- 
ment at  the  house  of  a  publican  in  Tayef.  Here 
he  became  intoxicated  with  wine,  and  passed  the 
night  in  the  arms  of  the  wife  of  a  Greek  slave, 
named  Somyah,  who  in  process  ot  time  made  him 
the  father  of  a  male  child.  Abu  Sofian,  ashamed 
of  this  amour,  would  not  acknowledge  the  child, 
but  left  him  to  his  fate  ;  hence  he  received  the 
name  of  Ziyad  Ibn  Abihi,  that  it  is  to  say,  Ziyad 
the  son  of  nobody. 

The  boy,  thus  deserted,  gave  early  proof  of 
energy  and  talent.  When  scarce  arrived  at  man- 
hood, he  surprised  Amru  Ibn  al  Aass  by  his  elo- 
quence and  spirit  in  addressing  a  popular  assem- 
bly. Amru,  himself  illegitimate,  felt  a  sympathy 
in  the  vigor  of  this  spurious  offset.  "  By  the 
prophet !"  exclaimed  he,  "  if  this  youth  were  but 
of  the  noble  race  of  Koreish,  he  would  drive  all 
the  tribes  of  Arabia  before  him  with  his  staff  !" 

Ziyad  was  appointed  cadi  or  judge,  in  the  reign 
of  Omar,  and  was  distinguished  by  his  decisions. 
.  On  one  occasion,  certain  witnesses  came  before 
him  accusing  Mogeirah  Ibn  Seid,  a  distinguished 
person  of  unblemished  character,  with  inconti- 
nence, but  failed  to  establish  the  charge  ;  where- 
upon Ziyad  dismissed  the  accused  with  honor, 
and  caused  his  accusers  to  be  scourged  with  rods 
for  bearing  false  witness.  This  act  was  never 
forgotten  by  Mogeirah,  who,  becoming  afterward 
one  of  the  counsellors  of  the  Caliph  Ali,  induced 
him  to  appoint  Ziyad  lieutenant  or  governor  of 
Persia,  an  arduous  post  of  high  trust,  the  duties 
of  which  he  discharged  with  great  ability. 

After  the  death  of  Ali  and  the  abdication  of 
Hassan,  events  which  followed  hard  upon  each 
other,  Ziyad,  who  still  held  sway  over  Persia, 
hesitated  to  acknowledge  Moawyah  as  Caliph. 
The  latter  was  alarmed  at  this  show  of  opposition, 
fearing  lest  Ziyad  should  join  with  the  family  of 
Haschem,  the  Kindred  of  the  prophet,  who  desired 
the  elevation  of  Hosein  ;  he,  therefore,  sent  for 
Mogeirah,  the  former  patron  of  Ziyad,  and  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  mediate  between  them.  Mo- 
geirah repaired  to  Ziyad  in  person,  bearing  a  let- 
ter of  kindness  and  invitation  from  the  Caliph,  and 
prevailed  on  him  to  accompany  him  to  Cufa.  On 
their  arrival  Moawyah  embraced  Ziyad,  and  re- 
ceived him  with  public  demonstrations  of  respect 
and  affection,  as  his  brother  by  the  father's  side. 
The  fact  of  their  consanguinity  was  established  on 
the  following  day,  in  full  assembly,  by  the  publi- 
can of  Tayef,  who  bore  testimony  to  the  inter- 
course between  Abu  Sofian  and  the  beautiful 
slave. 

This  decision,  enforced  by  the  high  hand  of 
authority,  elevated  Ziyad  to  the  noblest  blood  of 
Koreish,  and  made  him  eligible  to  the  highest 
offices,  though 'in  fact  the  strict  letter  of  the  Ma- 
hometan law  would  have  pronounced  him  the  son 
ot  the  Greek  slave,  who  was  husband  of  his  mother. 

The  family  of  the  Ommiades  were  indignant  at 
having  the  baserborn  offspring  of  a  slave  thus  in- 


troduced among  them  ;  but  Moawyah  disregard- 
ed these  murmurs  ;  he  had  probably  gratified  his 
own  feelings  of  natural  affection,  and  he  had 
firmly  attached  to  his  interest  a  man  of  extensive 
influence,  and  one  of  the  ablest  generals  of  the 
age. 

Moawyah  found  good  service  in  his  valiant 
though  misbegotten  brother.  Under  the  sway  of 
incompetent  governors  the  country  round  Bas- 
sora  had  become  overrun  with  thieves  and  mur- 
derers, and  disturbed  by  all  kinds  of  tumults. 
Ziyad  was  put  in  the  command,  and  hastened  to 
take  possession  of  his  turbulent  post.  He  found 
Bassora  a  complete  den  of  assassins  ;  not  a  night 
but  was  disgraced  by  riot  and  bloodshed,  so  that 
it  was  unsafe  to  walk  the  streets  after  dark.  Ziyad 
was  an  eloquent  man,  and  he  made  a  public 
speech  terribly  to  the  point.  He  gave  notice  that 
he  meant  to  rule  with  the  sword,  and  to  wreak 
unsparing  punishment  on  all  offenders  ;  he  advised 
all  such,  therefore,  to  leave  the  city.  He  warned 
all  persons  from  appearing  in  public  after  evening 
prayers,  as  a  patrol  would  go  the  rounds  and  put 
every  one  to  death  who  should  be  found  in  the 
streets.  He  carried  this  measure  into  effect. 
Two  hundred  persons  were  put  to  death  by  the 
patrol  during  the  first  night,  only  five  during  the 
second,  and  not  a  drop  of  blood  was  shed  after- 
ward, nor  was  there  any  further  tumult  or  dis- 
turbance. 

Moawyah  then  employed  him  to  effect  the  same 
reforms  in  Khorassan  and  many  other  provinces, 
and  the  more  he  had  to  execute,  the  more  was  his 
ability  evinced,  until  his  mere  name  would  quell 
commotion,  and  awe  the  most  turbulent  into 
quietude.  Yet  he  was  not  sanguinary  nor  cruel, 
but  severely  rigid  in  his  discipline,  and  inflexible 
in  the  dispensation  of  justice.  It  was  his  custom, 
wherever  he  held  sway,  to  order  the  inhabitants 
to  leave  their  doors  open  at  night,  with  merely  a 
hurdle  at  the  entrance  to  exclude  cattle,  engaging 
to  replace  anything  that  should  be  stolen;  and  so 
effective  was  his  police  that  no  robberies  were 
committed. 

Though  Ziyad  had  whole  provinces  under  his 
government,  he  felt  himself  not  sufficiently  em- 
ployed ;  he  wrote  to  the  Caliph,  therefore,  com- 
plaining that,  while  his  left  hand  was  occupied  in 
governing  Babylonia,  his  right  hand  was  idle  ; 
and  he  requested  the  government  of  Arabia 
Petrea  also,  which  the  Caliph  gladly  granted  him, 
to  the  great  terror  of  its  inhabitants,  who  dreaded 
so  stern  a  ruler.  But  the  sand  of  Ziyad  was  ex- 
hausted. He  was  attacked  with  the  plague  when 
on  the  point  of  setting  out  for  Arabia.  The  dis- 
ease made  its  appearance  with  an  ulcer  in  his 
hand,  and  the  agony  made  him  deliberate  whether 
to  smite  it  off.  As  it  was  a  case  of  conscience 
among  predestinarians,  he  consulted  a  venerable 
cadi.  "  If  you  die,"  said  the  old  expounder  of 
the  law,  "  you  go  before  God  without  that  hand, 
which  you  have  cut  off  to  avoid  appearing  in  his 
presence.  If  you  live,  you  give  a  by-name  to 
your  children,  who  will  be  called  the  sons  of  the 
cripple.  I  advise  you,  therefore,  to  let  it  alone." 
The  intensity  of  the  pain,  however,  made  him  de- 
termine on  amputation,  but  the  sight  of  the  fire 
and  cauterizing  irons  again  deterred  him.  He  was 
surrounded  by  the  most  expert  physicians,  but,  say 
the  Arabians,  "  It  was  not  in  their  power  to  re- 
verse the  sealed  decree."  He  died  in  the  forty- 
fifth  year  of  the  Hegira  and  of  his  own  age,  and 
the  people  he  had  governed  with  so  much  severity 
considered  his  death  a  deliverance.  His  son 
Obeid'allah,  though  only  twenty-five  years  of  age, 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


151 


was  immediately  invested  by  the  Caliph  with  the 
government  of  Khorassan,  and  gave  instant  proofs 
pf  inheriting  the  spirit  of  his  father.  On  his  way 
to  his  government  he  surprised  a  large  Turkish 
force,  and  put  them  to  such  sudden  flight  that 
their  queen  left  one  of  her  buskins  behind,  which 
fell  into  the  hands  of  her  pursuers,  and  was  esti- 
mated, from  the  richness  of  its  jewels,  at  two  thou- 
sand pieces  of  gold. 

Ziyad  lelt  another  son  named  Salem,  who  was, 
several  years  afterward,  when  but  twenty-four 
years  of  age,  appointed  to  the  government  of 
Khorassan,  and  rendered  himself  so  beloved  by  the 
people  that  upward  of  twenty  thousand  children 
were  named  after  him.  He  had  a  third  son  called 
Kameil,  who  was  distinguished  for  sagacity  and 
ready  wit,  and  he  furthermore  left  from  his  pro- 
geny a  dynasty  of  princes  in  Arabia  Felix,  who 
ruled  under  the  denomination  of  the  children  of 
Ziyad. 

The  wise  measures  of  Moawyah  produced  a 
calm  throughout  his  empire,  although  his  throne 
seemed  to  be  elevated  on  the  surface  of  a  vol- 
cano. He  had  reinstated  the  famous  Amru  Ibn 
al  Aass  in  the  government  of  Egypt,  allowing  him 
to  enjoy  the  revenues  of  that  opulent  province,  in 
gratitude  for  his  having  proclaimed  him  Caliph 
during  his  contest  with  Ali,  but  stipulating  that 
he  should  maintain  the  forces  stationed  there. 
The  veteran  general  did  not  long  enjoy  this  post, 
as  he  died  in  the  forty-third  year  of  the  Hegira, 
A.D.  663,  as  full  of  honors  as  of  years.  In  him  the 
cause  of  Islam  lost  one  of  its  wisest  men  and  most 
illustrious  conquerors.  "Show  me,"  said  Omar 
to  him  on  one  occasion,  "  the  sword  with  which 
you  have  fought  so  many  battles  and  slain  so 
many  infidels."  The  Caliph  expressed  surprise 
when  he  unsheathed  an  ordinary  scimetar. 
"  Alas  !"  said  Amru,  "  the  sword  without  the 
arm  of  the  master  is  no  sharper  nor  heavier  than 
the  sword  of  Farezdak  the  poet." 

Mahomet,  whose  death  preceded  that  of  Amru 
upward  of  thirty  years,  declared,  that  there  was  no 
truer  Moslem  than  he  would  prove  to  be,  nor  one 
more  steadlast  in  the  faith.  Although  Amru 
passed  most  of  his  life  in  the  exercise  of  arms,  he 
found  time  to  cultivate  the  softer  arts  which  be- 
long to  peace.  We  have  already  shown  that  he 
was  an  orator  and  a  poet.  The  witty  lampoons, 
however,  which  he  wrote  against  the  prophet  in 
his  youth,  he  deeply  regretted  in  his  declining 
age.  He  sought  the  company  of  men  of  learning 
and  science,  and  delighted  in  the  conversation  of 
philosophers.  He  has  left  some  proverbs  distin- 
guished for  pithy  wisdom,  and  some  beautiful 
poetry,  and  his  dying  advice  to  his  children  was 
celebrated  for  manly  sense  and  affecting  pathos. 


CHAPTER    XLIII. 

SIEGE  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE— TRUCE  WITH  THE 
EMPEROR — MURDER  OF  HASSAN  —  DEATH  OF 
AYESHA. 

THE  Caliph  Moawyah  being  thoroughly  estab- 
lished in  his  sovereignty,  was  ambitious  of  foreign 
conquests,  which  might  shed  lustre  on  his  name, 
and  obliterate  the  memory  of  these  civil  wars. 
He  was  desirous,  also,  of  placing  his  son  Yezid 
in  a  conspicuous  light,  and  gaining  for  him  the 
affections  of  the  people  ;  for  he  secretly  enter- 


tained hopes  of  making  him  his  successor.  He 
determined,  therefore,  to  send  him  with  a  great 
force  to  attempt  the  conquest  of  Constantinople, 
at  that  time  the  capital  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
empire.  This  indeed  was  a  kind  of  holy  war  ; 
for  it  was  fulfilling  one  of  the  most  ardent  wishes 
of  Mahomet,  who  had  looked  forward  to  the  con- 
quest of  the  proud  capital  of  the  Caesars  as  one  of 
the  highest  triumphs  of  Islam,  and  had  promised 
full  pardon  of  all  their  sins  to  the  Moslem  army 
that  should  achieve  it. 

The  general  command  of  the  army  in  this  expe- 
dition was  given  to  a  veteran  named  Sophian,  and 
he  was  accompanied  by  several  of  those  old  sol- 
diers of  the  faith,  battered  in  the  wars,  and 
almost  broken  down  by  years,  who  had  fought  by 
the  side  of  the  prophet  at  Beder  and  Ohod,  and 
were,  therefore,  honored  by  the  title  of  "  Compan- 
ions," and  who  now  showed  among  the  ashes  of 
age  the  sparks  of  youthful  fire,  as  they  girded  on 
their  swords  for  this  sacred  enterprise. 

Hosein,  the  valiant  son  of  Ali,  also  accom- 
panied this  expedition  ;  in  which,  in  fact,  the 
flower  of  Moslem  chivalry  engaged.  Great 
preparations  were  made  by  sea  and  land,  and 
sanguine  hopes  entertained  of  success  ;  the  Mos- 
lem troops  were  numerous  and  hardy,  inured  to 
toil  and  practised  in  warfare,  and  they  were  ani- 
mated by  the  certainty  of  paradise,  should  they  be 
victorious.  The  Greeks,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
in  a  state  of  military  decline,  and  their  emperor, 
Constantine,  a  grandson  of  Heraclius,  disgraced 
his  illustrious  name  by  indolence  and  incapac- 
ity. 

It  is  singular  and  to  be  lamented,  that  of  this 
momentous  expedition  we  have  very  few  particu- 
lars, notwithstanding  that  it  lasted  long,  and  must 
have  been  checkered  by  striking  vicissitudes. 
The  Moslem  fleet  passed  without  impediment 
through  the  Dardanelles,  and  the  army  disem- 
barked within  seven  miles  of  Constantinople.  For 
many  days  they  pressed  the  siege  with  vigor,  but 
the  city  was  strongly  garrisoned  by  fugitive  troops 
from  various  quarters,  who  had  profited  by  sad 
experience  in  the  defence  of  fortified  towns  ;  the 
walls  were  strong  and  high  ;  and  the  besieged 
made  use  of  Greek  fire,  to  the  Moslems  a  new  and 
terrific  agent  of  destruction. 

Finding  all  their  efforts  in  vain,  the  Moslems 
consoled  themselves  by  ravaging  the  neighboring 
coasts  of  Europe  and  Asia,  and  on  the  approach 
of  winter  retired  to  the  island  of  Cyzicus,  about 
eighty  miles  from  Constantinople,  where  they  had 
established  their  headquarters. 

Six  years  were  passed  in  this  unavailing  enter- 
prise ;  immense  sums  were  expended  ;  thousands 
of  lives  were  lost  by  disease  ;  ships  and  crews,  by- 
shipwreck  and  other  disasters,  and  thousands  of 
Moslems  were  slain,  gallantly  fighting  for  paradise 
under  the  walls  of  Constantinople.  The  most  re- 
nowned of  these  was  the  venerable  Abu  Ayub,  in 
whose  house  Mahomet  had  established  his  quar- 
ters when  he  first  fled  to  Medina,  and  who  had 
fought  by  the  side  of  the  prophet  at  Beder  and 
Ohod.  He  won  an  honored  grave  ;  for  though  it 
remained  for  ages  unknown,  yet  nearly  eight  cen- 
turies after  this  event,  when  Constantinople  was 
conquered  by  Mahomet  II.,  the  spot  was  revealed 
in  a  miraculous  vision,  and  consecrated  by  a 
mausoleum  and  mosque,  which  exist  to  this  clay, 
and  to  which  the  grand  seigniors  of  the  Ottoman 
empire  repaired  to  be  belted  with  the  scimetar  on 
their  accession  to  the  throne. 

The  protracted  war  with  the  Greeks  revived 
their  military  ardor,  and  they  assailed  the  Mos- 


152 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


lems  in  their  turn.  Moawyah  found  the  war 
which  he  had  provoked  threatening  his  own 
security.  Other  enemies  were  pressing  on  him  ; 
age,  also,  had  sapped  his  bodily  and  mental  vigor, 
and  he  became  so  anxious  tor  safety  and  repose 
that  he  in  a  manner  purchased  a  truce  of  the  em- 
peror for  thirty  years,  by  agreeing  to  pay  an  an- 
nual tribute  of  three  thousand  pieces  of  gold,  fifty 
slaves,  and  fifty  horses  of  the  noblest  Arabian 
blood. 

Yezid,  the  eldest  son  of  Moawyah,  and  his  se- 
cretly-intended successor,  had  failed  to  establish 
a  renown  in  this  enterprise,  and  if  Arabian  his- 
torians speak  true,  his  ambition  led  him  to  a  perfid- 
ious act  sufficient  to  stamp  his  name  with  infamy. 
He  is  accused  of  instigating  the  murder  of  the  vir- 
tuous Hassan,  the  son  of  Ali,  who  had  abdicated 
in  favor  of  Moawyah,  but  who  was  to  resume  the 
Caliphat  on  the  death  of  that  potentate.  It  is 
questionable  whether  Hassan  would  ever  have 
claimed  this  right,  for  he  was  of  quiet,  retired 
habits,  and  preferred  the  security  and  repose  of  a 
private  station.  He  was  strong,  however,  in  the 
affection  of  the  people,  and  to  remove  out  of  the 
way  so  dangerous  a  rival,  Yezid,  it  is  said,  pre- 
vailed upon  one  of  his  wives  to  poison  him,  prom- 
ising to  marry  her  in  reward  of  her  treason.  The 
murder  took  place  in  the  forty-ninth  year  of  the 
Hegira,  A.D.  669,  when  Hassan  was  forty-seven 
years  of  age.  In  his  last  agonies,  his  brother 
Hosein  inquired  at  whose  instigation  he  supposed 
himself  to  have  been  poisoned,  that  he  might 
avenge  his  death,  but  Hassan  refused  to  name 
him.  "  This  world,"  said  he,  "  is  only  a  long 
night  ;  leave  him  alone  until  he  and  I  shall  meet 
in  open  daylight,  in  the  presence  of  the  Most 
High/' 

Yezid  refused  to  fulfil  his  promise  of  taking  the 
murderess  to  wife,  alleging  that  it  would  be  mad- 
ness to  intrust  himself  to  the  embraces  of  such  a 
female  ;  he,  however,  commuted  the  engagement 
for  a  large  amount  in  money  and  jewels.  Moaw- 
yah is  accused  of  either  countenancing  or  being 
pleased  with  a  murder  which  made  his  son  more 
eligible  to  the  succession,  for  it  is  said  that  when 
he  heard  of  the  death  of  Hassan,  "  he  fell  down 
and  worshipped." 

Hassan  had  been  somewhat  uxorious  ;  or  ra- 
ther, he  had  numerous  wives,  and  was  prone  to 
change  them  when  attracted  by  new  beauties.  One 
of  them  was  the  daughter  of  Yezdegird,  the  last 
king  of  the  Persians,  and  she  bore  him  several 
children.  He  had,  altogether,  fifteen  sons  and  five 
daughters,  and  contributed  greatly  to  increase  the 
race  of  Sheriffs,  or  Fatimites,  descendants  from 
the  prophet.  In  his  testament  he  left  directions 
that  he  should  be  buried  by  the  sepulchre  of  his 
grandsire  Mahomet  ;  but  Ayesha,  whose  hatred 
lor  the  family  of  Ali  went  beyond  the  grave,  de- 
clared that  the  mansion  was  hers,  and  refused  her 
consent  ;  he  was,  therefore,  interred  in  the  com- 
mon burial-ground  of  the  city. 

Ayesha,  herself,  died  some  time  afterward,  in 
the  fifty-eighth  year  of  the  Hegira,  having  sur- 
vived the  prophet  forty-seven  years.  She  was 
often  called  the  Prophetess,  and  generally  denomi- 
nated the  Mother  of  the  Faithful,  although  she 
had  never  borne  any  issue  to  Mahomet,  and  had 
employed  her  widowhood  in  intrigues  to  prevent 
Ali  and  his  children,  who  were  the  only  progeny 
of  the  prophet,  from  sitting  on  the  throne  ol  the 
Caliphs.  All  the  other  wives  ot  Mahomet  who 
survived  him  passed  the  remainder  of  their  lives 
in  widowhood  ;  but  none,  save  her,  seem  to  have 
been  held  in  especial  reverence. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

MOSLEM     CONQUESTS      IN      NORTHERN    AFRICA- 
ACHIEVEMENTS   OF  ACBAH  ;   HIS   DEATH. 

THE  conquest  of  Northern  Africa,  so  auspi- 
ciously commenced  by  Abdallah  Ibn  Saad,  had 
been  suspended  for  a  number  of  years  by  the 
pressure  of  other  concerns,  and  particularly  by 
the  siege  of  Constantinople,  which  engrossed  a 
great  part  of  the  Moslem  forces  ;  in  the  mean  time 
Cyrene  had  shaken  off  the  yoke,  all  Cyrenaica 
was  in  a  state  of  insurrection,  and  there  was  dan- 
ger that  the  places  which  had  been  taken  and  the 
posts  which  had  been  established  by  the  Arab 
conquerors  would  be  completely  lost. 

The  Caliph  Moawyah  now  looked  round  for 
some  active  and  able  general,  competent  to  secure 
and  extend  his  sway  along  the  African  sea-coast. 
Such  a  one  he  found  in  Acbah  Ibn  Nafe  el  Fehri, 
whom  he  dispatched  from  Damascus  with  ten 
thousand  horse.  Acbah  made  his  way  with  all 
speed  into  Africa,  his  forces  augmenting  as  he 
proceeded,  by  the  accession  of  barbarian  troops. 
He  passed  triumphantly  through  Cyrenaica  ;  laid 
close  siege  to  the  city  of  Cyrene,  and  retook  it, 
notwithstanding  its  strong  walls  and  great  popu- 
lation ;  but  in  the  course  of  the  siege  many  of  its 
ancient  and  magnificent  edifices  were  destroyed. 

Acbah  continued  his  victorious  course  west- 
ward, traversing  wildernesses  sometimes  barren 
and  desolate,  sometimes  entangled  with  forests, 
and  infested  by  serpents  and  savage  animals, 
until  he  reached  the  domains  of  ancient  Carthage, 
the  present  territory  of  Tunis.  Here  he  deter- 
mined to  found  a  city  to  serve  as  a  stronghold, 
and  a  place  of  refuge  in  the  heart  of  these  con- 
quered regions.  The  site  chosen  was  a  valley 
closely  wooded,  and  abounding  with  lions,  tigers, 
and  serpents.  The  Arabs  give  a  marvellous  ac- 
count of  the  founding  of  the  city.  Acbah,  say 
they,  went  forth  into  the  forest,  and  adjured  its 
savage  inhabitants.  "  Hence  !  avaunt  !  wild 
beasts  and  serpents  !  Hence,  quit  this  wood  and 
valley  !"  This  solemn  adjuration  he  repeated 
three  several  times,  on  three  several  days,  and 
not  a  lion,  tiger,  leopard,  nor  serpent,  but  depart- 
ed from  the  place. 

Others,  less  poetic,  record  that  he  cleared  away 
a  forest  which  had  been  a  lurking  place  not  mere- 
ly for  wild  beasts  and  serpents,  but  lor  rebels  and 
barbarous  hordes  ;  that  he  used  the  wood  in  con- 
structing walls  tor  his  new  city,  and  when  these 
were  completed,  planted  his  lance  in  the  centre, 
and  exclaimed  to  his  followers,  "  This  is  your 
caravan."  Such  was  the  origin  of  the  city  of 
Kairwan  or  Caenvan,  situated  thirty-three  leagues 
southeast  of  Carthage,  and  twelve  Irom  the  sea  on 
the  borders  of  the  great  desert.  Here  Acbah 
fixed  his  seat  of  government,  erecting  mosques 
and  other  public  edifices,  and  holding  all  the 
surrounding  country  in  subjection. 

While  Acbah  was  thus  honorably  occupied,  the 
Caliph  Moawyah,  little  aware  of  the  immense 
countries  embraced  in  these  recent  conquests, 
united  them  with  Egypt  under  one  command,  as 
if  they  had  been  two  small  provinces,  and  ap- 
pointed Muhegir  Ibn  Omm  Dinar,  one  ot  the 
Ansari,  as  emir  or  governor.  Muhegir  was  an 
ambitious,  or  rather  an  envious  and  perfidious 
man.  Scarce  had  he  entered  upon  his  govern- 
ment when  he  began  to  sicken  with  envy  ot  the 
brilliant  fame  of  Acbah  and  his  vast  popularity, 
not  merely  with  the  army,  but  throughout  the 
country  ;  he  accordingly  made  such  unfavorable 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


153 


reports  of  the  character  and  conduct  of  that  gen- 
eral, in  his  letters  to  the  Caliph,  that  the  latter 
was  induced  to  displace  him  from  the  command 
of  the  African  army,  and  recall  him  to  Damascus. 

The  letter  of  recall  being  sent  under  cover  to 
Muhegir,  he  transmitted  it  by  Muslama  Ibn  Mach- 
lad,  one  of  his  generals,  to  Acbah,  charging  his 
envoy  to  proceed  with  great  caution,  and  to  treat 
Acbah  with  profound  deference,  lest  the  troops, 
out  of  their  love  for  him,  should  resist  the  order 
for  his  deposition.  Muslama  found  Acbah  in  his 
camp  at  Cyrene,  and  presented  him  the  Caliph's 
letter  of  recall,  and  a  letter  from  Muhegir  as  gover- 
nor of  the  province,  letting  him  know  that  Muslama 
and  the  other  generals  were  authorized  to  arrest 
him  should  he  hesitate  to  obey  the  command  of 
the  Caliph. 

There  was  no  hesitation  on  the  part  of  Acbah. 
He  at  once  discerned  whence  the  blow  proceeded. 
"Oh  God  !"  exclaimed  he,  "spare  my  life  until 
I  can  vindicate  myself  from  the  slanders  of  Muhe- 
gir Ibn  Omni  Dinar."  He  then  departed  in- 
stantly, without  even  entering  his  house  ;  made 
his  way  with  all  speed  to  Damascus,  and  ap- 
peared before  Moawyah  in  the  presence  of  his 
generals  and  the  officers  of  his  court.  Addressing 
the  Caliph  with  noble  indignation,  "  I  have  trav- 
ersed deserts,"  said  he,  "and  encountered  sav- 
age tribes  ;  I  have  conquered  towns  and  regions, 
and  have  brought  their  infidel  inhabitants  to  the 
knowledge  of  God  and  his  law.  I  have  built 
mosques  and  palaces,  and  fortified  our  dominion 
over  the  land,  and  in  reward  I  have  been  degrad- 
ed from  my  post,  and  summoned  hither  as  a  cul- 
prit. I  appeal  to  your  justice,  whether  I  have 
merited  such  treatment  ?" 

Moawyah  felt  rebuked  by  the  magnanimous 
bearing  of  his  general,  for  he  was  aware  that  he 
had  been  precipitate  in  condemning  him  on  false 
accusations.  "  I  am  already  informed,"  said  he, 
"  of  the  true  nature  of  the  case.  I  now  know 
who  is  Muhegir,  and  who  is  Acbah  ;  return  to 
the  command  of  the  army,  and  pursue  your  glori- 
ous career  of  conquest. 

Although  it  was  not  until  the  succeeding  Cali- 
phat  that  Acbah  resumed  the  command  in  Afri- 
ca, we  will  anticipate  dates  in  order  to  maintain 
unbroken  the  thread  of  his  story.  In  passing 
through  Egypt  he  deposed  Muslama  from  a  com- 
mand, in  which  he  had  been  placed  by  Muhegir, 
and  ordered  him  to  remain  in  one  of  the  Egyptian 
towns  a  prisoner  at  large. 

He  was  grieved  to  perceive  the  mischief  that 
had  been  done  in  Africa,  during  his  absence,  by 
Muhegir,  who,  out  of  mere  envy  and  jealousy, 
had  endeavored  to  mar  and  obliterate  all  traces  of 
his  good  deeds  ;  dismantling  the  cities  he  had 
built,  destroying  his  public  edifices  at  Caerwan, 
and  transferring  the  inhabitants  to  another  place. 
Acbah  stripped  him  of  his  command,  placed  him 
in  irons,  and  proceeded  to  remedy  the  evils  he 
had  perpetrated.  The  population  was  restored  to 
Caerwan,  its  edifices  were  rebuilt,  and  it  rose 
from  its  temporary  decline  more  prosperous  and 
beautiful  than  ever.  Acbah  then  left  Zohair  Ibn 
Kais  in  command  of  this  metropolis,  and  resumed 
his  career  of  western  conquest,  carrying  Muhegir 
with  him  in  chains.  He  crossed  the  kingdom  of 
Numiclia,  now  Algiers,  and  the  vast  regions  of 
Mauritania,  now  Morocco,  subduing  their  infidel 
inhabitants  or  converting  them  with  the  sword, 
until,  coming  to  the  western  shores  of  Africa,  he 
spurred  his  charger  into  the  waves  of  the  Atlan- 
tic until  they  rose  to  his  saddle  girths  ;  then  rais- 
ing his  scimetar  toward  heaven,  "  Oh  Allah!" 


cried  the  zealous  Moslem,  "  did  not  these  pro- 
found waters  prevent  me,  still  further  would  I 
carry  the  knowledge  of  thy  law,  and  the  reverence 
of  thy  holy  name  !" 

While  Acbah  was  thus  urging  his  victorious 
way  to  the  uttermost  bounds  of  Mauritania,  tid- 
ings overtook  him  that  the  Greeks  and  barbarians 
were  rising  in  rebellion  in  his  rear ;  that  the 
mountains  were  pouring  down  their  legions,  and 
that  his  city  of  Caerwan  was  in  imminent  danger. 
He  had  in  fact  incurred  the  danger  against  whicla 
the  late  Caliph  Omar  had  so  often  cautioned  his 
too  adventurous  generals.  Turning  his  steps  he 
hastened  back,  marching  at  a  rapid  rate.  As  he 
passed  through  Zab  or  Numidia,  he  was  harassed 
by  a  horde  of  Berbers  or  Moors,  headed  by  Aben 
Cahina,  a  native  chief  of  daring  prowess,  who  had 
descended  from  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountains, 
in  which  he  had  taken  refuge  from  the  invaders. 
This  warrior,  with  his  mountain  band,  hung  on 
the  rear  of  the  army,  picking  off  stragglers,  and 
often  carrying  ]|avoc  into  the  broken  ranks,  but 
never  venturing  on  a  pitched  battle.  He  gave 
over  his  pursuit  as  they  crossed  the  bounds  of 
Numiclia. 

On  arriving  at  Caerwan  Acbah  found  everything 
secure,  the  rebellion  having  been  suppressed  by 
the  energy  and  bravery  of  Zohair,  aided  by  an 
associate  warrior,  Omar  Ibn  Ali,  of  the  tribe  of 
Koreish. 

Acbah  now  distributed  a  part  of  his  army 
about  the  neighborhood,  formed  of  the  residue  a 
flying  camp  of  cavalry,  and  leaving  Zohair  and 
his  brave  associate  to  maintain  the  safety  of  the 
metropolis,  returned  to  scour  the  land  of  Zab,  and 
take  vengeance  on  the  Berber  chief  who  had 
harassed  and  insulted  him  when  on  the  march. 

He  proceeded  without  opposition  as  far  as  a 
place  called  Te"huda  ;  when  in  some  pass  or  de- 
file he  found  himself  surrounded  by  a  great  host 
of  Greeks  and  Berbers,  led  on  by  the  mountain 
chief  Aben  Cahina.  In  fact,  both  Christians  and 
Moors,  who  had  so  often  been  in  deadly  conflict 
in  these  very  regions,  had  combined  to  drive  these 
new  intruders  from  the  land. 

Acbah  scanned  the  number  and  array  of  the 
advancing  enemy,  and  saw  there  was  no  retreat, 
and  that  destruction  was  inevitable.  He  mar- 
shalled his  little  army  of  horsemen,  however,  with 
great  calmness,  put  up  the  usual  prayers,  and 
exhorted  his  men  to  fight  valiantly.  Summoning 
Muhegir  to  his  presence,  "  This,"  said  he,  "  is  a 
day  of  liberty  and  gain  for  all  true  Moslems,  for  it 
is  a  day  of  martyrdom.  I  would  not  deprive  you 
of  so  great  a  chance  tor  paradise."  So  saying, 
he  ordered  his  chains  to  be  taken  off. 

Muhegir  thanked  him  for  the  favor,  and  ex- 
pressed his  determination  to  die  in  the  cause  of 
the  faith.  Acbah  then  gave  him  arms  and  a  horse, 
and  both  of  them,  drawing  thejr  swords,  broke  the 
scabbards  in  token  that  they  would  fight  until  vic- 
tory or  death.  The  battle  was  desperate,  and  the 
carnage  terrible.  Almost  all  the  Moslems  fought 
to  the  very  death,  asking  no  quarter.  Acbah  was 
one  of  the  last  of  his  devoted  band,  and  his  corpse 
was  found,  scimetar  in  hand,  upon  a  heap  of  the 
enemy  whom  he  had  slain. 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

MOAWYAH  NAMES  HIS  SUCCESSOR — HIS  LAST  ACTS 
AND   DEATH— TRAITS   OF   HIS   CHARACTER. 

MOAWYAH  was  now  far  advanced  in  years,  and 
aware  that  he  had  not  long  to  live  ;  he  sought  there- 


154 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


fore  to  accomplish  a  measure  which  he  had  long 
contemplated,  and  which  was  indicative  of  his 
ambitious  character  and  his  pride  of  family.  It 
was  to  render  the  Caliphat  hereditary,  and  to  per- 
petuate it  in  his  line.  For  this  purpose  he  openly 
named  his  son  Yezid  as  his  successor,  and  re- 
quested the  different  provinces  to  send  deputies  to 
Damascus  to  perform  the  act  of  fealty  to  him. 
The  nomination  of  a  successor  was  what  the  proph- 
et himself  had  not  done,  and  what  Abu  Beker, 
Omar,  and  Othman  had  therefore  declined  to  do  ; 
the  attempt  to  render  the  Caliphat  hereditary  was 
in  direct  opposition  to  the  public  will  manifested 
repeatedly  in  respect  to  Ali  ;  Yezid,  to  whom  he 
proposed  to  bequeath  the  government,  was  pub- 
licly detested,  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  ob- 
jections, such  influence  had  Moawyah  acquired 
over  the  public  mind  that  delegates  arrived  at 
Damascus  from  all  parts,  and  gave  their  hands  to 
Yezid  in  pledge  of  future  fealty.  Thus  was  estab- 
lished the  dynasty  of  the  Ommiades,  which  held 
the  Caliphat  for  nearly  a  hundred  years.  There 
were  fourteen  Caliphs  of  th*  haughty  line, 
known  as  the  Pharaohs  of  the  house  of  Omaya  (or 
rather  Ommiah).  The  ambition  of  rule  manifest- 
ed in  Moawyah,  the  founder  of  the  dynasty,  con- 
tinued even  among  his  remote  descendants,  who 
exercised  sovereignty  nearly  four  centuries  after- 
ward in  Spain.  One  of  them,  anxious  to  ascend 
the  throne  in  a  time  of  turbulence  and  peril,  ex- 
claimed, "  Only  make  -me  king  to-day,  and  you 
may  kill  me  to-morrow  !" 

The  character  of  the  Caliph  had  much  changed 
in  the  hands  of  Moawyah,  and  in  the  luxurious 
city  of  Damascus  assumed  more  and  more  the 
state  of  the  oriental  sovereigns  which  it  super- 
seded. The  frugal  simplicity  of  the  Arab,  and  the 
stern  virtues  of  the  primitive  disciples  of  Islam, 
were  softening  down  and  disappearing  among  the 
voluptuous  delights  of  Syria.  Moawyah,  how- 
ever, endeavored  to  throw  over  his  favorite  city  of 
Damascus  some  of  the  sanctity  with  which  Mecca 
and  Medina  were  invested.  For  this  purpose  he 
sought  to  transfer  to  it,  from  Medina,  the  pulpit 
of  the  prophet,  as  also  his  walking-staff  ;  "  for 
such  precious  relics  of  the  apostle  of  God,"  said 
he,  "  ought  not  to  remain  among  the  murderers 
of  Othman." 

The  staff  was  found  after  great  search,  but  when 
the  pulpit  was  about  to  be  removed,  there  oc- 
curred so  great  an  eclipse  of  the  sun  that  the  stars 
became  visible.  The  superstitious  Arabs  consid- 
ered this  a  signal  of  divine  disapprobation,  and 
the  pulpit  was  suffered  to  remain  in  Medina. 

Feeling  his  end  approaching,  Moawyah  sum- 
moned his  son  Yezid  to  his  presence,  and  gave 
advice  full  of  experience  and  wisdom.  "  Confide 
in  the  Arabs,"  said  he,  "  as  the  sure  foundation 
of  your  power.  Prize  the  Syrians,  for  they  are 
faithful  and  enterprising,  though  prone  to  degen- 
erate when  out  of  their  own  country.  Gratify  the 
people  of  Irak  in  all  their  demands,  for  they  are 
restless  and  turbulent,  and  would  unsheathe  a  hun- 
dred thousand  scimetars  against  thee  on  the  least 
provocation." 

"  There  are  four  rivals,  my  son,"  added  he,  "on 
whom  thou  must  keep  a  vigilant  eye.  The  first  is 
Hosein,  the  son  of  Ali,  who  has  great  influence  in 
Irak,  but  he  is  upright  and  sincere,  and  thy  own 
cousin  ;  treat  him,  therefore,  with  clemency,  if  he 
fall  within  thy  power.  The  second  is  Abdallah 
Ibn  Omar  ;  but  he  is  a  devout  man,  and  will 
eventually  come  under  allegiance  to  thee.  The 
third  is  Abda'lrahman  ;  but  he  is  a  man  of  no 
force  of  mind,  and  merely  speaks  from  the  dic- 


tates of  others  ;  he  is,  moreover,  incontinent,  and 
a  gambler  ;  he  is  not  a  rival  to  be  feared.  The 
fourth  is  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir  ;  he  unites  the  craft 
of  the  fox  with  the  strength  and  courage  of  the 
lion.  If  he  appear  against  thee,  oppose  him 
valiantly  ;  if  he  offer  peace,  accept  it,  and  spare 
the  blood  of  thy  people.  If  he  fall  within  your 
power,  cut  him  to  pieces  !" 

Moawyah  was  gathered  to  his  fathers  in  the  six- 
tieth year  of  the  Hegira,  A.D.  679,  at  the  age  of 
seventy,  or,  as  some  say,  seventy-five  years,  of 
which  he  had  reigned  nearly  twenty.  He  was  in- 
terred in  Damascus,  which  he  had  made  the  cap- 
ital of  the  Moslem  empire,  and  which  continued 
to  be  so  during  the  dynasty  of  the  Ommiades. 
The  inscription  of  his  signet  was,  "  Every  deed 
hath  its  meed  ;"  or,  according  to  others,  "  All 
power  rests  with  God." 

Though  several  circumstances  in  his  reign  sa- 
vor of  crafty,  and  even  treacherous  policy,  yet  he 
bears  a  high  name  in  Moslem  history.  His  cour- 
age was  undoubted,  and  of  a  generous  kind  ;  for 
though  fierce  in  combat,  he  was  clement  in  vic- 
tory. He  prided  himself  greatly  upon  being  of 
the  tribe  of  Koreish,  and  was  highly  aristocratical 
before  he  attained  to  sovereign  power  ;  yet  he  was 
affable  and  accessible  at  all  times,  and  made  him- 
self popular  among  his  people.  His  ambition  was 
tempered  with  some  considerations  of  justice. 
He  assumed  the  throne,  it  is  true,  by  the  aid  of 
the  scimetar,  without  regular  election  ;  but  he 
subsequently  bought  off  the  right  of  his  rival  Has- 
san, the  legitimate  Caliph,  and  transcended  mu- 
nificently all  the  stipulations  of  his  purchase,  pre- 
senting him,  at  one  time,  with  four  million  pieces 
of  gold.  One  almost  regards  with  incredulity  the 
stories  of  immense  sums  passing  from  hand  to 
hand  among  these  Arab  conquerors,  as  freely  as 
bags  of  dates  in  their  native  deserts  ;  but  it  must 
be  recollected  they  had  the  plundering  of  the  rich 
empires  of  the  East,  and  as  yet  were  flush  with 
the  spoils  of  recent  conquests. 

The  liberality  of  Moawyah  is  extolled  as  being 
beyond  all  bounds  ;  one  instance  on  record  of  it, 
however,  savors  of  policy.  He  gave  Ayesha  a 
bracelet  valued  at  a  hundred  thousand  pieces  of 
gold,  that  had  formerly  perhaps  sparkled  on  the 
arm  of  some  Semiramis  ;  but  Ayesha,  he  knew, 
was  a  potent  friend  and  a  dangerous  enemy. 

Moawyah  was  sensible  to  the  charms  of  poetry, 
if  we  may  judge  from  the  following  anecdotes  : 

A  robber,  who  had  been  condemned  by  the 
Cadi  to  have  his  head  cut  off,  appealed  to  the  Ca- 
liph in  a  copy  of  verses,  pleading  the  poverty  and 
want  by  which  he  had  been  driven.  Touched  by 
the  poetry,  Moawyah  reversed  the  sentence,  and 
gave  the  poet  a  purse  of  gold,  that  he  might  have 
no  plea  of  necessity  for  repeating  the  crime. 

Another  instance  was  that  of  a  young  Arab, 
who  had  married  a  beautiful  damsel,  of  whom  he 
was  so  enamored  that  he  lavished  all  his  fortune 
upon  her.  The  governor  of  Cufa,  happening  to 
see  her,  was  so  struck  with  her  beauty  that  he 
took  her  from  the  youth  by  force.  The  latter 
made  his  complaint  to  the  Caliph  in  verse,  poured 
forth  with  Arab  eloquence,  and  with  all  the  pas- 
sion of  a  lover,  praying  redress  or  death.  Moa- 
wyah, as  before,  was  moved  by  the  poetic  appeal, 
and  sent  orders  to  the  governor  of  Cufa  to  restore 
the  wife  to  her  husband.  The  governor,  infatuated 
with  her  charms,  entreated  the  Caliph  to  let  him 
have  the  enjoyment  of  her  for  one  year,  and  then 
to  take  his  head.  The  curiosity  of  the  Caliph  was 
awakened  by  this  amorous  contest,  and  he  caused 
the  female  to  be  sent  to  him.  Struck  with  her 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


155 


ravishing  beauty,  with  the  grace  of  her  deport- 
ment, and  the  eloquence  of  her  expressions,  he 
could  not  restrain  his  admiration  ;  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  told  her  to  choose  be- 
tween the  young  Arab,  the  governor  of  Cufa,  and 
himself.  She  acknowledged  the  honor  proffered 
by  the  Caliph  to  be  utterly  beyond  her  merit  ;  but 
avowed  that  affection  and  duty  still  inclined  her  to 
her  husband.  Her  modesty  and  virtue  delighted 
Moawyaheven  more  than  her  beauty  ;  he  restored 
her  to  her  husband,  and  enriched  them  both  with 
princely  munificence. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

SUCCESSION  OF  YEZID,    SEVENTH   CALIPH — FINAL 
FORTUNES   OF  HOSEIN,    THE  SON   OF  AH. 

YEZID,  the  son  of  Moawyah,  succeeded  to  the 
Caliphat  without  the  ceremony  of  an  election. 
His  inauguration  took  place  in  the  new  moon 
of  the  month  Rajeb,  in  the  sixtieth  year  of  the 
Hegira,  coincident  with  the  seventh  day  of  April 
in  the  year  of  our  Lord  680.  He  was  thirty-four 
years  of  age,  and  is  described  as  tall  and  thin, 
with  a  ruddy  countenance  pitted  with  the  small- 
pox, black  eyes,  curled  hair,  and  a  comely  beard. 
He  was  not  deficient  in  talent,  and  possessed  the 
popular  gift  of  poetry.  The  effect  of  his  residence 
among  the  luxuries  and  refinements  of  Syria  was 
evinced  in  a  fondness  for  silken  raiment  and  the 
delights  of  music  ;  but  he  was  stigmatized  as 
base-spirited,  sordid,  and  covetous  ;  grossly  sen- 
sual, and  scandalously  intemperate. 

Notwithstanding  all  this,  he  was  readily  ac- 
knowledged as  Caliph  throughout  the  Moslem 
empire,  excepting  by  Mecca,  Medina,  and  some 
cities  of  Babylonia.  His  first  aim  was  to  secure 
undisputed  possession  of  the  Caliphat.  The  only 
competitors  from  whom  he  had  clanger  to  appre- 
hend were  Hosein,  the  son  of  Ali,  and  Abdallah, 
the  son  of  Zobeir.  They  were  both  at  Medina, 
and  he  sent  orders  to  Waled  Ibn  Otbah,  the  gov- 
ernor of  that  city,  to  exact  from  them  an  oath  of 
fealty.  Waled,  who  was  of  an  undecided  char- 
acter, consulted  Merwan  Ibn  Hakem,  formerly 
secretary  of  Othman,  and  suspected  of  forging 
the  letter  which  effected  the  ruin  of  that  Caliph. 
He  was  in  fact  one  of  the  most  crafly  as  well  as 
able  men  of  the  age.  His  advice  to  the  governor 
was  to  summon  Hosein  and  Abdallah  to  his  pres- 
ence, before  they  should  hear  of  the  death  of  Moa- 
wyah, and  concert  any  measures  of  opposition  ; 
then  to  tender  to  them  the  oath  of  fealty  to  Yezid, 
and,  should  they  refuse,  to  smite  off  their  heads. 

Hosein  and  Abdallah  discovered  the  plot  in 
time  to  effect  their  escape  with  their  families  to 
Mecca,  where  they  declared  themselves  openly 
in  opposition  to  Yezid.  In  a  little  while  Hosein 
received  secret  messages  from  the  people  of  Cufa, 
inviting  him  to  their  city,  assuring  him  not  mere- 
ly of  protection,  but  of  joyful  homage  as  the  son 
of  Ali,  the  legitimate  successor  of  the  prophet. 
He  had  only,  they  said,  to  show  himself  in  their 
city,  and  all  Babylonia  would  rise  in  arms  in  his 
favor. 

Hosein  sent  his  cousin,  Muslim  Ibn  Okail,  to 
ascertain  the  truth  of  these  representations,  and 
to  foment  the  spirit  of  insurrection  should  it  really 
exist  among  the  people  of  Cufa.  Muslim  made 
his  way,  almost  unattended,  and  with  great  peril 
and  hardship,  across  the  deserts  of  Irak.  On  ar- 


riving at  Cufa  he  was  well  received  by  the  party 
of  Hosein  ;  they  assured  him  that  eighteen  thou- 
sand men  were  ready  to  sacrifice  their  blood  and 
treasure  in  casting  down  the  usurper  and  uphold- 
ing the  legitimate  Caliph.  Every  day  augmented 
the  number  of  apparent  zealots  in  the  cause,  until 
it  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand. 
Of  all  this  Muslim  sent  repeated  accounts  to  Ho- 
sein, urging  him  to  come  on,  and  assuring  him 
that  the  conspiracy  had  been  carried  on  with  such 
secrecy  that  Nu'man  Ibn  Baschir,  the  governor 
of  Cufa,  had  no  suspicion  of  it. 

But  though  the  conspiracy  had  escaped  the  vig- 
ilance of  Nu'man,  intimation  of  it  had  reached 
the  Caliph  Yezid  at  Damascus,  who  sent  instant 
orders  to  Obeid'allah,  the  emir  of  Bassora,  to  re- 
pair with  all  speed  to  Cufa,  displace  its  negligent 
governor,  and  take  that  place  likewise  under  his 
command. 

Obeid'allah  was  the  son  of  Ziyad,  and  inherited 
all  the  energy  of  his  father.  Aware  that  the  mo- 
ment was  critical,  he  set  off  from  Bassora  with 
about  a  score  of  fleet  horsemen.  The  people  of 
Cufa  were  on  the  lookout  for  the  arrival  of  Ho- 
sein, which  was  daily  expected,  when  Obeid'allah 
rode  into  the  city  in  the  twilight  at  the  head  of  his . 
troopers.  He  wore  a  black  turban,  as  was  the 
custom  likewise  with  Hosein.  The  populace 
crowded  round  him,  hailing  the  supposed  grand- 
son of  the  prophet. 

"  Stand  off  !"  '  cried  the  horsemen  fiercely. 
"  It  is  the  emir  Obeid'allah." 

The  crowd  shrank  back  abashed  and  dis- 
appointed, and  the  emir  rode  on  to  the  castle. 
The  popular  chagrin  increased  when  it  was  known 
that  he  had  command  of  the  province  ;  for  he  was 
reputed  a  second  Ziyad  in  energy  and  decision. 
His  measures  soon  proved  his  claims  to  that  char- 
acter. He  discovered  and  disconcerted  the  plans 
of  the  conspirators  ;  drove  Muslim  to  a  prema- 
ture outbreak  ;  dispersed  his  hasty  levy,  and  took 
him  prisoner.  The  latter  shed  bitter  tears  on  his 
capture  ;  not  on  his  own  account,  but  on  the  ac- 
count of  Hosein,  whom  he  feared  his  letters  and 
sanguine  representations  had  involved  in  ruin,  by 
inducing  him  to  come  on  to  Cufa.  The  head  of 
Muslim  was  struck  off  and  sent  to  the  Caliph. 

His  letters  had  indeed  produced  the  dreaded 
effect.  On  receiving  them  Hosein  prepared  to 
comply  with  the  earnest  invitation  of  the  people 
of  Cuta.  It  was  in  vain  his  friends  reminded  him 
of  the  proverbial  faithlessness  of  these  people  ;  it 
was  in  vain  they  urged  him  to  wait  until  they  had 
committed  themselves,  by  openly  taking  the  field. 
It  was  in  vain  that  his  near  relative  Abdallah 
Ibn  Abbas  urged  him  at  least  to  leave  the  fe- 
males of  his  family  at  Mecca,  lest  he  should  be 
massacred  in  the  midst  of  them,  like  the  Caliph 
Othman.  Hosein,  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  Moslem 
and  predestinarian,  declared  he  would  leave  the 
event  to  God,  and  accordingly  set  out  with  his 
wives  and  children,  and  a  number  of  his  relatives, 
escorted  by  a- handful  of  Arab  troops. 

Arrived  in  the  confines  of  Babylonia,  he  was 
met  by  a  body  of  a  thousand  horse,  led  on  by 
Harro,  an  Arab  of  the  tribe  of  Temimah.  He  at 
first  supposed  them  to  be  a  detachment  of  his  par- 
tisans sent  to  meet  him,  but  was  soon  informed  by 
Harro  that  he  came  from  the  emir  Obeid'allah 
to  conduct  him  and  all  the  people  with  him  to 
Cufa. 

Hosein  haughtily  refused  to  submit  to  the  emir's 
orders,  and  represented  that  he  came  in  peace, 
invited  by  the  inhabitants  of  Cufa,  as  the  rightful 
Caliph.  He  set  forth  at  the  same  time  the  justice 


15G 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS    SUCCESSORS. 


of  his  claims,  and  endeavored  to  enlist  Harro  in 
his  cause  ;  but  the  latter,  though  in  no  wise  hoslile 
to  him,  avoided  committing  himself,  and  urged 
him  to  proceed  quietly  to  Cufa  under  his  escort. 

While  they  were  yet  discoursing,  lour  horsemen 
rode  up  accompanied  by  a  guide.  One  of  these 
named  Thirmah  was  known  to  Hosein,  and  was 
reluctantly  permitted  by  Harro  to  converse  with 
him  apart.  Hosein  inquired  about  the  situation 
of  things  at  Cufa.  "The  nobles,"  replied  the 
other,  "  are  now  against  you  to  a  man  ;  some  of 
the  common  people  are  still  with  you  ;  by  to-mor- 
row, however,  not  a  scimetar  but  will  be  un- 
sheathed against  you." 

Hosein  inquired  about  Kais,  a  messenger  whom 
he  had  sent  in  advance  to  apprise  his  adher- 
ents of  his  approach.  He  had  been  seized  on 
suspicion,  ordered  as  a  test,  by  Obeid'allah,  to 
ciyse  Hosein  and  his  father  Ali,  and  on  his  refus- 
ing had  been  thrown  headlong  from  the  top  of 
the  citadel. 

Hosein  shed  tears  at  hearing  the  fate  of  his 
faithful  messenger.  "  There  be  some, "  said  he, 
in  the  words  of  the  Koran,  "  who  are  already 
dead,  and  some  who  living  expect  death.  Let 
their  mansions,  oh  God,  be  in  the  gardens  of  para- 
dise, and  receive  us  with  them  to  thy  mercy." 

Thirmah  represented  to  Hosein  that  his  handful 
of  followers  would  be  of  no  avail  against  the  host 
prepared  to  oppose  him  in  the  plains  of  Cufa,  and 
offered  to  conduct  him  to  the  impregnable  moun- 
tains of  Aja,  in  the  province  of  Naja,  where  ten 
thousand  men  of  the  tribe  of  Tay  might  soon  be 
assembled  to  defend  him.  He  declined  his  advice, 
however,  and  advanced  toward  Kadesia,  the  place 
famous  for  the  victor)'  over  the  Persians.  Harro 
and  his  cavalry  kept  pace  with  him,  watching 
every  movement,  but  offering  no  molestation. 
The  mind  of  Hosein,  however,  was  darkened  by 
gloomy  forebodings.  A  stupor  at  times  hung 
over  his  faculties  as  he  rode  slowly  along  ;  he  ap- 
peared to  be  haunted  with  a  presentiment  of  death. 

"  We  belong  to  God,  and  to  God  we  must 
return,"  exclaimed  he  as  he  roused  himself  at  one 
time  from  a  dream  or  reverie.  He  had  beheld  in 
his  phantasy,  a  horseman  who  had  addressed 
him  in  warning  words  :  "  Men  travel  in  the  night, 
and  their  destiny  travels  in  the  night  to  meet 
them."  This  he  pronounced  a  messenger  of 
death. 

In  this  dubious  and  desponding  mood  he  was 
brought  to  a  halt,  near  the  banks  of  the  Eu- 
phrates, by  the  appearance  of  four  thousand  men, 
m  hostile-array,  commanded  by  Amar  Ibn  Saad. 
These,  likewise,  had  been  sent  out  by  the  emir 
Obeid'allah,  who  was  full  of  uneasiness  lest 
there  should  be  some  popular  movement  in  favor 
of  Hosein.  The  latter,  however,  was  painfully 
convinced  by  this  repeated  appearance  of  hostile 
troops,  without  any  armament  in  his  favor,  that 
the  fickle  people  of  Cufa  were  faithless  to  him.  He 
held  a  parley  with  Amar,  who  was  a  pious  and 
good  man,  and  had  come  out  very  unwillingly 
against  a  descendant  of  the  prophet,  stated  to  him 
the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  deceived  by 
the  people  of  Cufa,  and  now  offered  to  return  to 
Mecca.  Amar  dispatched  a  fleet  messenger  to 
apprise  the  emir  of  this  favorable  offer,  hoping  to 
be  excused  from  using  violence  against  Hosein. 
Obeid'allah  wrote  in  reply  :  "Get  between  him 
and  the  Euphrates  ;  cut  him  off  from  the  water  as 
he  did  Othman  ;  force  him  to  acknowledge  al- 
legiance to  Yezid,  and  then  we  will  treat  of 
terms." 

Amar  obeyed  these  orders  with  reluctance,  and 


the  little  camp  of  Hosein  suffered  the  extremities 
of  thirst.  Still  he  could  not  be  brought  to  acknowl- 
edge Yezid  as  Caliph.  He  now  offered  three  things, 
either  to  go  to  Damascus  and  negotiate  matters  per- 
sonally with  Yezid  ;  to  return  into  Arabia  ;  or  to 
repair  to  some  frontier  post  in  Khorassan  and 
fight  against  the  Turks.  These  terms  were  like- 
wise transmitted  by  Amar  to  Obeid'allah. 

The  emir  was  exasperated  at  these  delays, 
which  he  considered  as  intended  to  gain  time  for 
tampering  with  the  public  feeling.  His  next  letter 
to  Amar  was  brief  and  explicit.  "  If  Hosein  and 
his  men  submit  and  take  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
treat  them  kindly  ;  if  they  refuse,  slay  them — ride 
over  them — trample  them  under  the  feet  of  thy 
horses  !"  This  letter  was  sent  by  Shamar,  a 
warrior  of  note,  and  of  a  fierce  spirit.  He  had 
private  instructions.  "  If  Amar  fail  to  do  as  I 
have  ordered,  strike  off  his  head  and  take  com- 
mand of  his  troops."  He  was  furnished  also  with 
a  letter  of  protection,  and  passports  for  four  of  the 
sons  of  Ali,  who  had  accompanied  their  brother 
Hosein. 

Amar,  on  receiving  the  letter  of  the  emir,  had 
another  parley  with  Hosein.  He  found  him  in 
front  of  his  tent  conversing  with  his  brother  Al 
Abbas,  just  after  the  hour  of  evening  prayer,  and 
made  known  to  him  the  peremptory  demand  of 
the  emir  and  its  alternative.  He  also  produced 
the  letter  of  protection  and  the  passports  for  his 
brothers,  but  they  refused  to  accept  them. 

Hosein  obtained  a  truce  until  the  morning  to 
consider  the  demand  of  the  emir  ;  but  his  mind 
was  already  made  up.  He  saw  that  all  hope  of 
honorable  terms  was  vain,  and  he  resolved  to  die. 

After  the  departure  of  Amar,  he  remained 
seated  alone  at  the  door  of  his  tent,  leaning  on 
his  sword,  lost  in  gloomy  cogitation  on  the  fate  of 
the  coming  day.  A  heaviness  again  came  over 
him,  with  the  same  kind  of  portentous  fantasies 
that  he  has  already  experienced.  The  approach 
of  his  favorite  sister,  Zenaib,  roused  him.  He  re- 
garded her  with  mournful  significance.  "  I  have 
just  seen,"  said  he,  "  in  a  dream,  our  grandsire 
the  prophet,  and  he  said,  '  Thou  wilt  soon  be 
with  me  in  paradise.'  ' 

The  boding  mind  of  Zenaib  interpreted  the 
portent.  "Woe  unto  us  and  our  family,"  cried 
she,  smiting  her  breast  ;  "  our  mother  Katima  is 
dead,  and  our  father  Ali  and  our  brother  Hassan  ! 
Alas  for  the  desolation  of  the  past  and  the  de- 
struction that  is  to  come  !"  So  saying,  her  grief 
overcame  her,  and  she  fell  into  a  swoon.  Hosein 
raised  her  tenderly,  sprinkled  water  in  her  face, 
and  restored  her  to  consciousness.  He  entreated 
her  to  rely  with  confidence  on  God,  reminding  her 
that  all  the  people  of  the  earth  must  die,  and 
everything  that  exists  must  perish,  but  that  God, 
who  created  them,  would  restore  them  and  take 
them  to  himself.  "  My  father,  and  my  mother, 
and  my  brother,"  said  he,  "  were  better  than  I, 
yet  they  died,  and  every  Moslem  has  had  an  ex- 
ample in  the  death  of  the  apostle  of  God."  Tak- 
ing her  then  by  the  hand,  he  led  her  into  the  tent, 
charging  her,  in  case  of  his  death,  not  to  give 
way  thus  to  immoderate  sorrow. 

He  next  addressed  his  friends  and  followers. 
"  These  troops  by  whom  we  are  surrounded,"  said 
he,  "  seek  no  life  but  mine,  and  will  be  contented 
with  my  death.  Tarry  not  with  me,  therefore,  to 
your  destruction,  but  leave  me  to  my  fate." 

"  God  forbid,"  cried  Al  Abbas,  "  that  we  should 
survive  your  fall  ;"  and  his  words  were  echoed 
by  the  rest. 

Seeing  his  little  band  thus  determined  to  share 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


157 


his  desperate  fortunes,  Hosein  prepared  to  sell 
their  lives  dear,  and  make  their  deaths  a  memora- 
ble sacrifice.  By  his  orders  all  the  tents  were 
disposed  in  two  lines,  and  the  cords  interwoven 
so  as  to  form  barriers  on  both  sides  of  the  camp, 
while  a  deep  trench  in  the  rear  was  filled  with 
wood,  to  be  set  on  fire  in  case  of  attack.  It  was 
assailable,  therefore,  only  in  front.  This  done, 
the  devoted  band,  conscious  that  the  next  day  was 
to  be  their  last,  passed  the  night  in  prayer,  while 
a  troop  of  the  enemy's  horse  kept  riding  round  to 
prevent  their  escape. 

When  the  morning  dawned,  Hosein  prepared 
for  battle.  His  whole  force  amounted  only  to 
twoscore  foot  soldiers  and  two-and-thirty  horse  ; 
but  all  were  animated  with  the  spirit  of  martyrs. 
Hosein  and  several  of  his  chief  men  washed, 
anointed,  and  perfumed  themselves  ;  "  for  in  a 
little  while,"  said  they,  "we  shall  be  with  the 
black-eyed  Houris  of  paradise." 

His  steadfastness  of  soul,  however,  was  shaken 
by  the  loud  lamentations  of  his  sisters  and 
daughters,  and  the  thought  of  the  exposed  and 
desolate  state  in  which  his  death  would  leave 
them.  He  called  to  mind,  too,  the  advice  which 
he  had  neglected  of  Abdallah  Ibn  Abbas,  to 
leave  his  women  in  safety  at  Mecca.  "  God  will 
reward  thee,  Abdallah  !"  exclaimed  he  in  the  ful- 
ness of  his  feelings. 

A  squadron  of  thirty  horse,  headed  by  Harro, 
now  wheeled  up,  but  they  came  as  friends  and 
allies.  Harro  repented  him  of  having  given  the 
first  check  to  Hosein,  and  now  came  in  atone- 
ment to  fight  and  die  for  him.  "  Alas  for  you 
men  of  Cuta  !"  cried  he,  as  Amar  and  his  troops 
approached  ;  "  you  have  invited  the  descendant 
ot  the  prophet  to  your  city,  and  now  you  come  to 
fight  against  him.  You  have  cut  off  from  him 
and  his  family  the  waters  of  the  Euphrates,  which 
are  free  even  to  infidels  and  the  beasts  of  the 
field,  and  have  shut  him  up  like  a  lion  in  the 
toils." 

Amar  began  to  justify  himself  and  to  plead  the 
orders  of  the  emir  ;  but  the  fierce  Shamar  cut 
short  all  parley  by  letting  fly  an  arrow  into  the 
camp  of  Hosein,  calling  all  to  witness  that  he 
struck  the  first  blow.  A  skirmish  ensued,  but 
the  men  of  Hosein  kept  within  their  camp,  where 
they  could  only  be  reached  by  the  archers.  From 
time  to  time  there  were  single  combats  in  defi- 
ance, as  was  customary  with  the  Arabs.  In 
these  the  greatest  loss  was  on  the  side  of  the  en- 
emy, for  Hosein's  men  fought  with  the  despera- 
tion of  men  resolved  on  death. 

Amar  now  made  a  general  assault,  but  the 
camp,  being  open  only  in  front,  was  successfully 
defended.  Shamar  and  his  followers  attempted 
to  pull  down  the  tents,  but  met  with  vigorous  re- 
sistance. He  thrust  his  lance  through  the  tent  of 
Hosein,  and  called  for  fire  to  burn  it.  The 
women  ran  out  shrieking.  "  The  fire  of  Jehen- 
nam  be  thy  portion  !"  cried  Hosein  ;  "  wouldst 
thou  destroy  my  family  ?" 

Even  the  savage  Shamar  stayed  his  hand  at  the 
sight  of  defenceless  women,  and  he  and  his  band 
drew  off  with  the  loss  of  several  of  their  number. 

Both  parties  desisted  from  the  fight  at  the  hour 
of  noontide  prayer  ;  and  Hosein  put  up  the  prayer 
of  Fear,  which  is  only  used  in  time  of  extremity. 

When  the  prayers  were  over  the  enemy  renew- 
ed the  assault,  but  chiefly  with  arrows  from  a  dis- 
tance. The  faithful  followers  of  Hosein  were 
picked  off  one  by  one,  until  he  was  left  almost 
alone  ;  yet  no  one  ventured  to  close  upon  him. 
An  arrow  from  a  distance  pierced  his  little  son 


Abdallah,  whom  he  had  upon  his  knee.  Hosein 
caught  his  blood  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  and 
threw  it  toward  heaven.  "  Oh  God,"  exclaimed 
he,  "  if  thou  withholdest  help  from  us,  at  least 
take  vengeance  on  the  wicked  for  this  innocent 
blood." 

His  nephew,  a  beautiful  child  with  jewels  in  his 
ears,  was  likewise  wounded  in  his  arms.  "  Allah 
will  receive  thee,  my  child,"  said  Hosein  ;  "  thou 
wilt  soon  be  with  thy  forefathers  in  paradise." 

At  this  moment  Zeinab  rushed  forth  impreca- 
ting the  vengeance  of  Heaven  upon  the  murder- 
ers of  her  family.  Her  voice  was  overpowered  by 
the  oaths  and  curses  of  Shamar,  who  closed  with 
his  men  upon  Hosein.  The  latter  fought  des- 
perately, and  laid  many  dead  around  him,  but  his 
strength  was  failing  him  ;  it  became  a  massacre 
rather  than  a  fight  ;  he  sank  to  the  earth,  and 
was  stripped  ere  life  was  extinct.  Thirty  wounds 
were  counted  in  his  body,  and  four-and-thirty 
bruises.  His  head  was  then  cut  off  to  be  sent  to 
Obeid'allah,  and  Shamar,  with  his  troops,  rode 
forward  and  backward  over  the  body,  as  he  had 
been  ordered,  until  it  was  trampled  into  the 
earth. 

Seventy-two  followers  ot  Hosein  were  slain  in 
this  massacre,  seventeen  of  whom  were  descend- 
ants from  Fatima.  Eighty-eight  of  the  enemy 
were  killed,  and  a  great  number  wounded.  All 
the  arms  and  furniture  of  Hosein  and  his  family 
were  taken  as  lawful  spoils,  although  against  the 
command  of  Amar. 

Shamar  dispatched  one  of  his  troopers  to  bear 
the  head  of  Hosein  to  the  emir  Obeid'allah.  He 
rode  with  all  speed,  but  arrived  at  Cufa  after  the 
gates  of  the  castle  were  closed.  Taking  the  gory 
trophy  to  his  own  house  until  morning  he  showed 
it  with  triumph  to  his  wife  ;  but  she  shrank  from 
him  with  horror,  as  one  guilty  of  the  greatest  out- 
rage to  the  family  of  the  prophet,  and  from  that 
time  forward  renounced  all  intercourse  with  him. 

When  the  head  was  presented  to  Obeid'allah, 
he  smote  it  on  the  mouth  with  his  staff.  A  ven- 
erable Arab  present  was  shocked  at  his  impiety. 
"  By  Allah  !"  exclaimed  he,  "I  have  seen  those 
lips  pressed  by  the  sacred  lips  of  the  prophet  !" 

As  Obeid'allah  went  forth  from  the  citadel,  he 
beheld  several  women,  meanly  attired  and  seated 
disconsolately  on  the  ground  at  the  threshold. 
He  had  to  demand  three  times  who  they  were, 
before  he  was  told  that  it  was  Zeinab,  sister  of 
Hosein,  and  her  maidens.  "  Allah  be  praised," 
cried  he  with  ungenerous  exultation,  "  who  has 
brought  this  proud  woman  to  shame,  and  wrought 
death  upon  her  family."  "Allah  be  praised," 
retorted  Zeinab,  haughtily,  "  who  hath  glorified 
our  family  by  his  holy  apostle  Mahomet.  As  to 
my  kindred,  death  was  decreed  to  them,  and  they 
have  gone  to-  their  resting-place  ;  but  God  will 
bring  you  and  them  together,  and  will  judge  be- 
tween you." 

The  wrath  of  the  emir  was  inflamed  by  this  re- 
ply, and  his  friends,  fearful  he  might  be  provoked 
to  an  act  of  violence,  reminded  him  that  she  was 
a  woman  and  unworthy  of  his  anger. 

"  Enough,"  cried  he  ;  "  let  her  revile  ;  Allah 
has  given  my  soul  full  satisfaction  in  the  death  of 
her  brother,  and  the  ruin  of  her  rebellious  race." 

"True!"  replied  Zeinab,  "you  have  indeed 
destroyed  our  men,  and  cut  us  up  root  and  branch. 
If  that  be  any  satisfaction  to  your  soul,  you  have 
it." 

The  emir  looked  at  her  with  surprise.  "  Thou 
art  indeed,"  said  he,  "a  worthy  descendant  of 
Ali,  who  was  a  poet  and  a  man  of  courage." 


158 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


"  Courage,"  replied  Zeinab,  "  is  not  a  woman's 
attribute  ;  but  what  my  heart  dictates  my  tongue 
shall  utter." 

The  emir  cast  his  eyes  on  Ali,  the  son  of  Ho- 
sein,  a  youth  just  approaching  manhood,  and  or- 
dered him  to  be  beheaded.  The  proud  heart  of 
Zeinab  now  gave  way.  Bursting  into  tears  she 
flung  her  arms  round  her  nephew.  "  Hast  thou 
not  drunk  deep  enough  of  the  blood  of  our  fam- 
ily ?"  cried  she  to  Obeid'allah  ;  "and  dost  thou 
thirst  for  the  blood  of  this  youth  ?  Take  mine  too 
with  it,  and  let  me  die  with  him." 

The  emir  gazed  on  her  again,  and  with  greater 
astonishment  ;  he  mused  for  awhile,  debating 
with  himself,  for  he  was  disposed  to  slay  the  lad  ; 
but  was  moved  by  the  tenderness  of  Zeinab.  At 
length  his  better  feelings  prevailed,  and  the  life  of 
Ali  was  spared. 

The  head  of  Hosein  was  transmitted  to  the  Ca- 
liph Yezid,  at  Damascus,  in  charge  of  the  savage- 
hearted  Shamar  ;  and  with  it  were  sent  Zeinab 
and  her  women,  and  the  youth  Ali.  The  latter 
had  a  chain  round  his  neck,  but  the  youth  carried 
himself  proudly,  and  would  never  vouchsafe  a 
word  to  his  conductors. 

When  Shamar  presented  the  head  with  the 
greetings  of  Obeid'allah,  the  Caliph  shed  tears, 
for  he  recalled  the  dying  counsel  of  his  father 
with  respect  tolhe  son  of  Ali.  "  Oh  Hosein  !" 
ejaculated  he,  "  hadst  thou  fallen  into  my  hands 
thou  wouldst  not  have  been  slain."  Then  giving 
vent  to  his  indignation  against  the  absent  Obeid'- 
allah, "The  curse  of  God,"  exclaimed  he,  "be 
upon  the  son  of  Somyah."* 

He  had  been  urged  by  one  of  his  courtiers  to 
kill  Ali,  and  extinguish  the  whole  generation  of 
Hosein,  but  milder  counsels  prevailed.  When 
the.  women  and  children  were  brought  before  him, 
in  presence  of  the  Syrian  nobility,  he  was  shocked 
at  their  mean  attire,  and  again  uttered  a  maledic- 
tion on  Obeid'allah.  In  conversing  with  Zeinab, 
he  spoke  with  disparagement  of  her  father  Ali  and 
her  brother  Hosein,  but  the  proud  heart  of  this  in- 
trepid woman  again  rose  to  her  lips,  and  she  re- 
plied with  a  noble  scorn  and  just  invective  that 
shamed  him  to  silence. 

Yezid  now  had  Zeinab  and  the  other  females  of 
the  family  of  Hosein  treated  with  proper  re- 
spect ;  baths  were  provided  for  them,  and  apparel 
suited  to  their  rank  ;  they  were  entertained  in  his 
palace,  and  the  widowed  wives  of  his  father  Moa- 
wyah  came  and  kept  them  company,  and  joined 
with  them  in  mourning  for  Hosein.  Yezid  acted 
also  with  great  kindness  toward  Ali  and  Amru, 
the  sons  of  Hosein,  taking  them  with  him  in  his 
walks.  Amru  was  as  yet  a  mere  child.  Yezid 
asked  him  one  day  jestingly,  "  Wilt  thou  fight 
with  my  son  Khaled  ?"  The  urchin's  eye  flashed 
fire.  "  Give  him  a  knife,"  cried  he,  "  and  give 
me  one  !"  "  Beware  of  this  child,"  said  a  crafty 
old  courtier  who  stood  by,  and  who  was  an  enemy 
to  the  house  of  Ali.  "  Beware  of  this  child  ;  de- 
pend upon  it,  one  serpent  is  the  parent  of  an- 
other." 

After  a  time  when  the  family  of  Hosein  wished 
to  depart  for  Medina,  Yezid  furnished  them  abun- 
dantly with  every  comfort  for  the  journey,  and 
a  safe  convoy  under  a  careful  officer,  who  treated 
them  with  all  due  deference.  When  their  journey 
was  accomplished,  Zeinab  and  Fatima,  the  young 
daughter  of  Hosein,  would  have  presented  their 
conductor  with  some  of  their  jewels,  but  the 


*  A  sneer  at  Obeid'allah's  illegitimate  descent  from 
Somyah,  the  wife  of  a  Greek  slave. 


worthy  Syrian  declined  their  offer.  "  Had  I  acted 
for  reward,"  said  he,  "less  than  these  jewels 
would  have  sufficed  ;  but  what  I  have  done  was 
for  the  love  of  God,  and  for  the  sake  of  your  rela- 
tionship to  the  prophet." 

The  Persians  hold  the  memory  of  Hosein  in 
great  veneration,  entitling  him  Shahed  or  the 
Martyr,  and  Seyejed  or  Lord  ;  and  he  and  his 
lineal  descendants  lor  nine  generations  are  enroll- 
ed among  the  twelve  Imams  or  Pontiffs  of  the 
Persian  creed.  The  anniversary  of  his  martyr- 
dom is  called  Rus  Hosein  (the  day  of  Hosein), 
and  is  kept  with  great  solemnity.  A  splendid 
monument  was  erected  in  after  years  on  the  spot 
where  he  fell,  and  was  called  in  Arabic  Meshed 
Hosein,  The  Sepulchre  of  Hosein.  The  Shyites, 
or  sectaries  of  Ali,  relate  divers  prodigies  as  hav- 
ing signalized  his  martyrdom.  The  sun  withdrew 
his  light,  the  stars  twinkled  at  noonday  and  clash- 
ed against  each  other,  and  the  clouds  rained 
showers  of  blood.  A  supernatural  light  beamed 
from  the  head  of  the  martyr,  and  a  flock  of  white 
birds  hovered  around  it.  These  miracles,  how- 
ever, are  all  stoutly  denied  by  the  sect  of  Moslems 
called  Sonnites,  who  hold  Ali  and  his  race  in 
abomination. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

INSURRECTION  OF  ABDALLAH  IBN  ZOBEIR— ME- 
DINA TAKEN  AND  SACKED — MECCA  BESIEGED 
—DEATH  OF  YEZID. 

THE  death  of  Hosein  had  removed  one  formi- 
dable rival  of  Yezid,  but  gave  strength  to  the 
claims  of  another,  who  was  scarcely  less  popu- 
lar. This  was  Abdallah,  the  son  of  Zobeir  ;  hon- 
ored for  his  devotion  to  the  faith,  beloved  for  the 
amenity  of  his  manners,  and  of  such  adroit  pol- 
icy that  he  soon  managed  to  be  proclaimed  Ca- 
liph by  the  partisans  of  the  house  of  Haschem, 
and  a  large  portion  of  the  people  of  Medina  and 
Mecca.  The  martyrdom,  as  he  termed  it,  of 
Hosein  furnished  him  a  theme  for  public  ha- 
rangues, with  which,  after  his  inauguration,  he 
sought  to  sway  the  popular  feelings.  He  called 
to  mind  the  virtues  of  that  grandson  of  the 
prophet,  his  pious  watchings,  fastings,  and  pray- 
ers ;  the  perfidy  of  the  people  of  Cufa,  to  which 
he  had  fallen  a  victim  ;  the  lofty  heroism  of  his 
latter  moments,  and  the  savage  atrocities  which 
had  accompanied  his  murder.  The  public  mind 
was  heated  by  these  speeches  ;  the  enthusiasm 
awakened  for  the  memory  of  Hosein  was  extend- 
ed to  his  politic  eulogist.  An  Egyptian  sooth- 
sayer, famed  for  skill  in  divination,  and  who  had 
studied  the  prophet  Daniel,  declared  that  Abdal- 
lah would  live  and  die  a  king  ;  and  this  operated 
powerfully  in  his  favor  among  the  "superstitious 
Arabs,  so  that  his  party  rapidly  increased  in  num- 
bers. 

The  Caliph  Yezid,  although  almost  all  the  prov- 
inces of  the  empire  were  still  in  allegiance  to  him, 
was  alarmed  at  the  movements  of  this  new  rival. 
He  affected,  however,  to  regard  him  with  con- 
tempt, and  sent  a  silver  collar  to  Merwan  Ibn 
Hakem,  then  governor  of  Medina,  directing  him 
to  put  it  round  the  neck  of  the  "  mock  Caliph," 
should  he  persist  in  his  folly,  and  send  him  in 
chains  to  Damascus.  Merwan,  however,  who 
was  of  a  wily  character  himself,  and  aware  of  the 
craft  and  courage  of  Abdallah,  and  his  growing 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


159 


popularity  in  Medina,  evaded  the  execution  of  the 
order. 

Yezicl  had  no  better  success  in  his  endeavors  to 
crush  the  rising  power  of  Abdallah  at  Mecca.  In 
vain  he  repeatedly  cnanged  his  governors  of  that 
city  ;  each  in  his  turn  was  outwitted  by  the  su- 
perior sagacity  of  Abdallah,  or  overawed  by  the 
turbulent  discontent  of  the  people. 

Various  negotiations  took  place  between  Yezid 
and  these  disaffected  cities,  and  dispatches  were 
sent  from  the  latter  to  Damascus  ;  but  these  only- 
rendered  the  schism  in  the  Caliphat  more  threat- 
ening. The  deputies  brought  back  accounts  of 
the  dissolute  life  of  Yezid,  which  shocked  the 
pious  and  abstemious  Arabs  of  the  sacred  cities. 
They  represented  him  as  destitute  of  religion  and 
morality  ;  neglectful  of  the  hours  of  worship  ;  a 
gross  sensualist  addicted  to  wine  and  banquet- 
ing ;  an  effeminate  voluptuary,  passing  his  time 
amid  singing  and  dancing  women,  listening  to 
music  and  loose  minstrelsy,  and  surrounded  by 
dogs  and  eunuchs. 

The  contempt  and  loathing  caused  by  their  rep- 
resentations were  fomented  by  the  partisans  of 
Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir,  and  extended  to  the  whole 
house  of  Ommiah,  of  which  Yezid  was  a  member. 
Open  rebellion  at  length  broke  out  in  a  manner 
characteristic  of  the  Arabs.  During  an  assem- 
blage in  the  mosque  of  Medina,  one  of  the  conspir- 
ators threw  his  turban  on  the  ground,  exclaim- 
ing, "  I  cast  off  Yezid  as  I  cast  off  this  turban." 
Another  seconded  him  with  the  exclamation,  "  I 
cast  off  Yezid  as  I  cast  off  this  shoe."  Heaps  of 
shoes  and  turbans  soon  showed  that  the  feeling 
was  unanimous. 

The  next  move  was  to  banish  the  house  of  Om- 
miah and  all  its  dependents  ;  but  these,  to  the 
number  of  a  thousand,  took  refuge  in  the  palace 
of  Merwan  Ibn  Hakem,  the  governor,  whs  was  of 
that  race.  Here  they  were  closely  besieged  and 
sent  off  to  Yezid,  imploring  instant  succor. 

It  was  with  difficulty  Yezid  could  prevail  upon 
any  of  his  generals  to  engage  in  so  unpopular  a 
cause.  Meslem  Ibn  Okbah,  a  stout-hearted  but 
infirm  old  general,  at  length  undertook  it  ,  but 
observed,  with  contempt,  that  a  thousand  men 
who  suffered  themselves  to  be  cooped  up  like 
fowls,  withoftt  fighting,  scarce  deserved  assist- 
ance. 

When  the  troops  were  about  to  depart,  Yezid 
rode  about  among  them,  his  scimetar  by  his  side, 
and  an  Arab  bow  across  his  shoulder,  calling 
upon  them  to  show  their  loyalty  and  courage. 
His  instructions  to  Meslem  were  to  summon  the 
city  of  Medina,  three  days  in  succession,  before 
he  made  any  assault  ;  if  it  refused  to  surrender, 
he  should,  after  taking  it,  give  it  up  to  three  days' 
pillage.  He  charged  him,  however,  to  be  careful 
of  the  safety  of  the  youth  Ali,  son  of  Hosein,  who 
was  in  the  city,  but  had  taken  no  part  in  the  re- 
bellion. 

Meslem  departed  at  the  head  of  twelve  thou- 
sand horse  and  five  thousand  foot.  When  he  ar- 
rived before  Medina  he  found  a  huge  trench  dig- 
ged round  the  city,  and  great  preparations  made 
for  defence.  On  three  successive  days  he  sum- 
moned it  to  surrender,  and  on  each  day  received 
a  refusal.  On  the  fourth  day  he  attacked  it  by 
storm,  making  his  assault  on  the  east  side,  that 
the  besieged  might  be  blinded  by  the  rising  sun. 
The  city  held  out  until  most  of  its  prime  leaders 
were  slain  ;  it  would  then  have  capitulated,  but 
the  stern  old  general  compelled  an  unconditional 
surrender. 

Meslem  entered  the  city  sword   in  hand,  and 


sent  instantly  for  Ali,  the  youthful  son  of  Hosein, 
whom  he  placed  on  his  own  camel,  and  furnished 
with  a  trusty  guard.  His  next  care  was  to  release 
the  thousand  men  of  the  house  of  Ommiah  from 
confinement,  lest  they  should  be  involved  in  the 
sacking  of  the  city  ;  this  done,  he  abandoned  the 
place  for  three  days  to  his  soldiery,  and  a  scene 
of  slaughter,  violence,  and  rapine  ensued,  too 
horrible  to  be  detailed.  Those  of  the  inhabitants 
who  survived  the  massacre  were  compelled  to 
submit  as  slaves  and  vassals  of  Yezid.  The  rigid 
severity  of  old  Meslem,  which  far  surpassed  his 
orders,  gained  him  the  appellation  of  Musreph, 
or  The  Extortionate.  His  memory  has  ever  been 
held  in  odium  by  the  Moslems,  for  the  outrages 
which  he  permitted  in  this  sacred  city.  This 
capture  of  Medina  took  place  at  night,  in  the  sixty- 
third  year  of  the  Hegira,  and  the  year  682  of  the 
Christian  era. 

The  old  general  now  marched  on  to  wreak  the 
same  fate  upon  Mecca  ;  but  his  fires  were  burnt 
out ;  he  died  on  the  march  of  fatigue,  infirmity, 
and  old  age,  and  the  command  devolved  on  a 
Syrian  general  named  Hozein  Ibn  Thamir.  The 
latter  led  his  force  up  to  the  walls  of  Mecca,  where 
Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir  commanded  in  person.  For 
the  space  of  forty  clays  he  besieged  the  city,  bat- 
tering the  walls  with  engines  brought  from  Syria. 
In  the  course  of  the  siege  a  part  of  the  Caaba  was 
beaten  down  and  the  rest  burnt.  Some  ascribe 
the  fire  to  the  engines  of  the  besiegers  ;  others 
affirm  that  Abdallah,  hearing  a  shouting  in  the 
night,  caused  a  flaming  brand  to  be  elevated  on  a 
lance  to  discover  the  cause,  and  that  the  fire  com- 
municated to  the  veil  which  covered  the  edi- 
fice. 

Mecca  was  reduced  to  extremity,  and  the  in- 
habitaats  began  to  dread  the  fate  of  Medina,  when 
a  swift  messenger  brought  to  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir 
the  joyful  tidings  of  the  death  of  Yezid.  He  im- 
mediately mounted  the  walls  and  demanded  of  the 
besiegers  why  they  continued  to  fight,  seeing  that 
their  master  Yezid  was  no  more.  They  regarded 
his  words  as  a  mere  subterfuge,  and  continued 
the  attack  with  increased  vigor.  The  intelligence, 
however,  was  speedily  confirmed. 

Hozein  now  held  a  conference  with  Abdallah  ; 
he  expressed  an  ardent  desire  to  put  an  end  to  all 
further  effusion  of  kindred  blood,  and  proffered 
the  allegiance  of  himself  and  his  army,  in  which 
were  some  of  the  leading  men  of  Syria.  Abdal- 
lah, for  once,  was  too  cautious  for  his  own  good. 
He  shrank  from  trusting  himself  with  Hozein  and 
his  army  ;  he  permitted  them,  however,  at  their 
earnest  request,  to  walk  in  religious  procession 
round  the  ruins  of  the  Caaba,  of  course  without 
arms  ;  after  which  Hozein  and  his  host  depart- 
ed on  the  march  homeward  ;  and  the  late  be- 
leaguered family  of  Ommiah  accompanied  them 
to  Syria. 

The  death  of  the  Caliph  Yezid  took  place  at 
Hawwarin,  in  Syria,  in  the  sixty-fourth  year  of  the 
Hegira,  A.D.  683,  in  the  thirty-ninth  year  of  his 
age,  after  a  reign  of  three  years  and  six  months. 
He  was  cut  down  in  the  flower  of  his  days,  say 
the  Moslem  writers,  in  consequence  of  his  impiety 
in  ordering  the  sacking  of  Medina,  the  burial- 
place  of  the  prophet  ;  for  the  latter  had  predicted, 
"  Whoever  injureth  Medina,  shall  melt  away  even 
as  salt  melteth  in  water. ' '  The  Persian  writers  also, 
sectarians  of  Ali,  hold  the  memory  of  Yezid  in  ab- 
horrence, charging  him  with  the  deaths  of 
Hassan  and  Hosein,  and  accompany  his  name 
with  the  imprecation,  "  May  he  be  accursed  of 
God.!" 


100 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

INAUGURATION  OF  MOAWYAH  II.,  EIGHTH  CA- 
LIPH—HIS ABDICATION  AND  DEATH — MERWAN 
IBN  HAKEM  AND  ABDALLAH  IBN  ZOBEIR, 
RIVAL  CALIPHS — CIVIL  WARS  IN  SYRIA. 

ON  the  death  of  Yezid,  his  son,  Moawyah  II., 
was  proclaimed  at  Damascus,  being  the  third 
Caliph  of  the  house  of  Ommiah.  He  was  in  the 
twenty-first  year  of  his  age,  feeble  in  mind  and 
body,  and  swayed  in  his  opinions  and  actions  by 
his  favorite  teacher,  Omar  Almeksus,  of  the  sect 
of  the  Kadarii,  who  maintain  the  free-will  of  men, 
and  that  a  contrary  opinion  would  make  God  the 
author  of  sin. 

Moawyah  assumed  the  supreme  authority  with 
extreme  reluctance,  and  felt  his  incompetency  to 
its  duties  ;  for  the  state  of  his  health  obliged  him 
to  shun  daylight,  and  keep  in  darkened  rooms  ; 
whence  the  Arabs,  in  their  propensity  to  by- 
names, gave  him  the  derisive  appellation  of  Abu- 
leilah,  "  Father  of  the  Night." 

He  abdicated  at  the  end  of  six  months,  alleging 
his  incompetency.  The  Ommiades  were  indig- 
nant at  his  conduct  ;  they  attributed  it,  and  prob- 
ably with  reason,  to  the  counsels  of  the  sage 
Omar  Almeksus,  on  whom  they  are  said  to  have 
wreaked  their  rage  by  burying  him  alive. 

Moawyah  refused  to  nominate  a  successor. 
His  grandfather  Moawyah,  he  said,  had  wrested 
the  sceptre  from  the  hands  of  a  better  man  ;  his 
father  Yezid  had  not  merited  so  great  a  trust,  and 
he  himself,  being  unworthy  and  unfit  to  wield  it, 
was  equally  unworthy  to  appoint  a  successor  ;  he 
left  the  election,  therefore,  to  the  chiefs  of  the 
people.  In  all  which  he  probably  spake  accord- 
ing to  the  dictates  of  the  sage  Omar  Almeksus. 

As  soon  as  he  had  thrown  off  the  cares  of  gov- 
ernment he  shut  himself  up  in  the  twilight  gloom 
ot  his  chamber,  whence  he  never  stirred  until  his 
death,  which  happened  soon  atter  ;  caused,  some 
say,  by  the  plague,  others  by  poison.  His  own 
diseased  frame  and  morbid  temperament,  how- 
ever, account  sufficiently  for  his  dissolution. 

The  election  of  a  Caliph  again  distracted  the 
Moslem  empire.  The  leading  men  at  Damascus 
determined  upon  Merwan  Ibn  Hakem,  of  the 
family  of  Ommiah,  and  once  the  secretary  of  state 
of  Othman,  who  had  so  craftily  managed  the  cor- 
respondence of  that  unfortunate  Caliph.  He  was 
now  well  stricken  in  years  ;  tall  and  meagre,  with 
a  pale  face  and  yellow  beard,  doubtless  tinged 
according  to  oriental  usage.  Those  who  elected 
him  took  care  to  stipulate  that  he  should  not 
nominate  any  of  his  posterity  as  his  successor  ; 
but  should  be  succeeded  by  Khaled,  the  son  of 
Yezid,  as  yet  a  minor.  Merwan,  in  his  eager- 
ness for  power,  pledged  himself  without  hesita- 
tion ;  how  faithfully  he  redeemed  his  pledge  will 
be  seen  hereafter. 

While  this  election  was  held  at  Damascus,  Ab- 
dallah  Ibn  Zobeir  was  acknowledged  as  Caliph  in 
Mecca,  Medina,  and  throughout  Arabia,  as  also 
in  Khorassan,  in  Babylonia,  and  in  Egypt. 

Another  candidate  for  the  supreme  power  unex- 
pectedly arose  in  Obeid'allah  Ibn  Ziyad,  the  emir 
of  Bassora,  the  same  who  had  caused  the  massa- 
cre of  Hosein.  He  harangued  an  assemblage  of 
the  people  of  Bassora  on  the  state  of  the  contend- 
ing factions  in  Syria  and  Arabia  ;  the  importance 
of  their  own  portion  of  the  empire,  so  capable  of 
sustaining  itself  in  independence,  and  the  policy 
of  appointing  some  able  person  as  a  protector  to 
watch  over  the  public  weal  until  these  dissensions 


should  cease,  and  a  Caliph  be  unanimously  ap- 
pointed. The  assembly  was  convinced  by  his 
reasoning,  and  urged  him  to  accept  the  appoint- 
ment. He  declined  it  repeatedly,  with  politic 
grace,  but  was  at  length  prevailed  upon  ;  and  the 
leaders  gave  him  their  hands,  promising  allegi- 
ance to  him  as  a  provisional  chief,  until  a  Caliph 
should  be  regularly  elected.  His  authority,  how-  I 
ever,  was  but  ot  short  duration.  The  people  of 
Cufa,  who  had  experienced  his  tyranny  as  govern- 
or, rejected  with  scorn  his  election  as  protector  ; 
their  example  reacted  upon  the  fickle  Bassorians, 
who  suddenly  revoked  their  late  act  of  allegiance, 
rose  in  tumultuous  opposition  to  the  man  they 
had  so  recently  honored,  and  Obeid'allah  was  fain 
to  disguise  himself  in  female  attire,  and  take  ref- 
uge in  the  house  of  an  adherent.  During  his 
sway,  however,  he  had  secured  an  immense 
amount  of  gold  from  the  public  treasury.  This 
he  now  shared  among  his  partisans,  and  distrib- 
uted by  handfuls  among  the  multitude  ;  but 
though  he  squandered  in  this  way  above  two  hun- 
dred thousand  pieces  of  gold  upon  the  populace, 
and  raised  a  few  transient  tumults  in  his  favor,  he 
was  ultimately  obliged  to  fly  for  his  life,  and  his 
effects  were  pillaged  by  the  rabble.  So  fared  it 
with  the  temporary  tyrant  who  smote  the  gory 
head  ot  the  virtuous  Hosein. 

He  fled  by  night  at  the  head  of  only  a  hundred 
men  ;  after  a  time  weariness  compelled  him  to 
exchange  the  camel  on  which  he  was  mounted  for 
an  ass.  In  this  humble  plight,  with  drooping 
head,  and  legs  dangling  to  the  ground,  journeyed 
the  imperious  Obeid'allah,  who,  but  the  day  be- 
fore, was  governor  of  Babylonia,  and  aspired  to 
the  throne  of  the  Caliphs.  One  of  his  attendants, 
noticing  his  dejection,  and  hearing  him  mutter  to 
himself,  supposed  him  smitten  with  contrition, 
and  upbraiding  himself  with  having  incurred 
these  calamities,  as  a  judgment  for  the  death  of 
Hosein  :  he  ventured  to  suggest  his  thoughts  and 
to  offer  consolation  ;  but  Obeid'allah  quickly  let 
him  know  that  his  only  repentance  and  self-ie- 
proach  were  for  not  having  attacked  the  faithless 
Bassorians,  and  struck  off  their  heads  at  the  very 
outbreak  of  their  revolt.  Obeid'allah  effected  his 
escape  into  Syria,  ;.nd  arrived  at  Damascus  in 
time  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  election  of  Mer- 
wan to  the  Caliphat  ;  in  the  mean  time  Bassora 
declared  its  allegiance  to  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir. 

The  claims  of  Merwan  to  the  Caliphat  were  ac- 
knowledged in  Syria  alone,  but  Syria,  if  undivided, 
was  an  empire  in  itself.  It  was  divided,  however. 
A  powerful  faction,  headed  by  Dehac  Ibn  Kais, 
late  governor  of  Cufa,  disputed  the  pretensions 
of  Merwan,  and  declared  for  Abdallah.  They 
appeared  in  arms  in  the  plain  near  Damascus. 
Mervvan  took  the  field  against  them  in  person  ;  a 
great  and  sanguinary  battle  took  place  ;  Dehac 
and  fourscore  of  the  flower  of  Syrian  nobility  were 
slain,  and  an  immense  number  of  their  adherents. 
Victory  declared  for  Merwan.  He  called  off  his 
soldiers  from  the  pursuit,  reminding  them  that 
the  fugitives  were  their  brethren. 

When  the  head  ot  Dehac  was  brought  to  him  he 
turned  from  it  with  sorrow.  "Alas!"  exclaimed 
he,  "  that  an  old  and  worn-out  man  like  myself 
should  occasion  the  young  and  vigorous  to  be  cut 
to  pieces  !" 

His  troops  hailed  him  as  Caliph  beyond  all  dis- 
pute, and  bore  him  back  in  triumph  to  Damas- 
cus. He  took  up  his  abode  in  the  palace  of  his 
predecessors  Moawyah  and  Yezid  ;  but  now  came 
a  harder  part  of  his  task.  It  had  been  stipulated 
that  at  his  death  Khakcl  the  son  of  Yezid  should 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


161 


be  his  successor  ;  it  was  now  urged  that  he  should 
marry  the  widow  of  Yezid,  the  mother  of  the 
vouth,  and  thus  make  himself  his  legitimate 
guardian. 

The  aged  Merwan  would  fain  have  evaded  this 
condition,  but  it  was  forced  upon  him  as  a  meas- 
ure of  policy,  and  he  complied  ;  no  sooner,  how- 
ever, was  the  marriage  solemnized  than  he  left 
his  capital  and  his  bride,  and  set  off  with  an  army 
for  Egypt,  to  put  down  the  growing  ascendency  of 
Abdallah  in  that  region.  He  sent  in  advance 
Amru  Ibn  Saad,  who  acted  with  such  promptness 
and  vigor  that  while  the  Caliph  was  yet  on  the 
march  he  received  tidings  that  the  lieutenant  of 
Abdallah  had  been  driven  from  the  province,  and 
the  Egyptians  brought  under  subjection  ;  where- 
upon Merwan  turned  his  face  again  toward  Da- 
mascus. 

Intelligence  now  overtook  him  that  an  army  un- 
der Musab,  brother  of  Abdallah,  was  advancing 
upon  Egypt.  The  old  Caliph  again  faced  about, 
and  resumed  his  march  in  that  direction,  but 
again  was  anticipated  by  Amru,  who  routed 
Musab  in  a  pitched  battle,  and  completely  estab- 
lished the  sway  of  Merwan  over  Egypt.  The 
Caliph  now  appointed  his  son  Abd'alaziz  to  the 
government  of  that  important  country,  and  once 
more  returned  to  Damascus,  whither  he  was  soon 
followed  by  the  victorious  Amru. 


CHAPTER   XLIX. 

STATE  OF  AFFAIRS  IN  K.HORASSAN — CONSPIRACY 
AT  CUFA — FACTION  OF  THE  PENITENTS  ;  THEIR 
FORTUNES — DEATH  OF  THE  CALIPH  MERWAN. 

IN  the  present  divided  state  of  the  Moslem  em- 
pire, the  people  of  Khorassan  remained  neuter, 
refusing  to  acknowledge  either  Caliph.  They  ap- 
pointed Salem,  the  son  of  Ziyad,  to  act  as  regent, 
until  the  unity  of  the  Moslem  government  should 
be  restored.  He  continued  for  a  length  of  time 
in  this  station,  maintaining  the  peace  of  the  prov- 
ince, and  winning  the  hearts  of  the  inhabitants 
by  his  justice,  equity,  and  moderation. 

About  this  time  there  was  a  sudden  awakening 
among  the  sect  of  Ali,  in  Babylonia.  The  people 
of  Cuta,  proverbially  fickle  and  faithless,  were 
seized  with  tardy  remorse  for  the  fate  of  Hosein, 
of  which  they  were  conscious  of  being  the  cause. 
Those  who  had  not  personally  assisted  in  his 
martyrdom  formed  an  association  to  avenge  his 
death.  Above  a  hundred  of  the  chief  men  of  the 
country  joined  them  ;  they  took  the  name  of  The 
Penitents,  to  express  their  contrition  for  having 
been  instrumental  in  the  death  of  the  martyr,  and 
they  chose  for  their  leader  one  of  the  veteran  com- 
panions of  the  prophet,  the  venerable  Solyman 
Ibn  Sorad,  who  devoted  his  gray  hairs  to  this 
pious  vengeance. 

The  awakening  spread  far  and  wide  ;  in  a  little 
while  upward  of  sixteen  thousand  names  were  en- 
rolled ;  a  general  appeal  to  arms  was  anticipated 
throughout  the  country,  and  the  veteran  Solyman 
called  upon  all  true  Moslems  disposed  to  prose- 
cute this  "  holy  war,"  to  assemble  at  a  place  call- 
ed Nochaila.  Before  the  appointed  time,  however, 
the  temporary  remorse  of  the  people  of  Cufa  had 
subsided  .;  the  enthusiasm  for  the  memory  of 
Hosein  had  cooled  throughout  the  province  ;  in- 
triguing meddlers,  jealous  of  the  appointment  of 
Solyman,  had  been  at  work,  and  when  the  veteran 


came  to  the  place  of  assemblage  he  found  but  an 
inconsiderable  number  prepared  for  action. 

He  now  dispatched  two  horsemen  to  Cufa,  who 
arrived  there  at  the  hour  of  the  last  evening 
prayer,  galloped  through  the  streets  to  the  great 
mosque,  rousing  the  Penitents  with  the  war-cry  of 
"  Vengeance  for  Hosein."  The  call  was  not  lost 
on  the  real  enthusiasts  ;  a  kind  of  madness  seized 
upon  many  of  the  people,  who  thronged  after  the 
couriers,  echoing  the  cry  of  vengeance.  The  cry 
penetrated  into  the  depths  of  the  houses.  One 
man  tore  himself  from  the  arms  of  a  beautiful  and 
tenderly  beloved  wife,  and  began  to  arm  for  bat- 
tle. She  asked  him  if  he  were  mad.  "  No  !" 
cried  he,  "  but  I  hear  the  summons  of  the  herald 
of  God,  and  I  fly  to  avenge  the  death  of  Hosein." 
"  And  in  whose  protection  do  you  leave  our 
child  ?"  "  I  commend  him  and  thee  to  the  pro- 
tection of  Allah  !"  So  saying,  he  departed. 

Another  called  for  a  lance  and  steed  ;  told  his 
daughter  that  he  fled  from  crime  to  penitence  ; 
took  a  hurried  leave  of  his  family  and  galloped  to 
the  camp  of  Solyman. 

Still,  when  the  army  of  Penitents  was  mustered 
on  the  following  day  it  did  not  exceed  four  thou- 
sand. Solyman  flattered  himself,  however,  that 
reinforcements,  promised  him  from  various  quar- 
ters, would  join  him  when  on  the  march.  He 
harangued  his  scanty  host,  roused  their  ardor, 
and  marched  them  to  the  place  of  Hosein's  mur- 
der, where  they  passed  a  day  and  night  in  prayer 
and  lamentation.  They  then  resumed  their 
march.  Their  intention  was  to  depose  both 
Caliphs,  Merwan  and  Abdallah,  to  overthrow  the 
family  of  Ommiah,  and  restore  the  throne  to  the 
house  of  Ali  ;  but  their  first  object  was  vengeance 
on  Obeid'allah,  the  son  of  Ziyad,  to  whom  they 
chiefly  ascribed  the  murder  of  Hosein.  The  aged 
Solyman  led  his  little  army  of  enthusiasts  through 
Syria,  continually  disappointed  of  recruits,  but 
unabated  in  their  expectation  of  aidirom  Heaven, 
until  they  were  encountered  by  Obeid'allah  with 
an  army  of  twenty  thousand  horsemen,  and  cut  in 
pieces. 

In  the  midst  of  these  internal  feuds  and  dissen- 
sions, a  spark  of  the  old  Saracen  spirit  was 
aroused  by  the  news  of  disastrous  reverses  in 
Northern  Africa.  We  have  recorded  in  a  former 
chapter  the  heroic  but  disastrous  end  of  Acbah 
on  the  plains  of  Numidia,  where  he  and  his  little 
army  were  massacred  by  a  Berber  host,  led  on 
by  Aben  Cahina.  That  Moorish  chieftain,  while 
flushed  with  victory,  had  been  defeated  by  Zohair 
before  the  walls  of  Caerwan,  and  the  spirits  of  the 
Moslems  had  once  more  revived  ;  especially  on 
the  arrival  of  reinforcements  sent  by  Abd'alaziz 
from  Egypt.  A  sad  reverse,  however,  again  took 
place.  A  large  force  oi  imperialists,  veteran  and 
well  armed  soldiers  from  Constantinople,  were 
landed  on  the  African  coast  to  take  advantage  of 
the  domestic  troubles  of  the  Moslems,  and  drive 
them  from  their  African  possessions.  Being 
joined  by  the  light  troops  of  Barbary,  they  attacked 
Zobeir  in  open  field.  He  fought  long  and  desper- 
ately, but  being  deserted  by  the  Egyptian  rein- 
forcements, and,  overpowered  by  numbers,  was 
compelled  to  retreat  to  Barca,  while  the  conquer- 
ing foe  marched  on  to  Caerwan,  captured  that 
city,  and  made  themselves  masters  of  the  sur- 
rounding country. 

It  was  the  tidings  of  this  disastrous  reverse, 
and  of  the  loss  of  the  great  outpost  of  Moslem 
conquest  in  Northern  Africa,  that  roused  the  Sar- 
acen spirit  from  its  domestic  feuds.  Abd'al- 
malec,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Caliph  Merwan,  who 


102 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


had  already  served  in  Africa,  was  sent  with  an 
army  to  assist  Zobeir.  He  met  that  general  in 
Barca,  where  he  was  again  collecting  an  army. 
They  united  their  forces,  retraced  the  westward 
route  of  victory,  defeated  the  enemy  in  every  ac- 
tion, and  replaced  the  standard  of  the  faith  on  the 
walls  of  Caerwan.  Having  thus  wiped  out  the  re- 
cent disgraces,  Abd'almalec  left  Zobeir  in  com- 
mand of  that  region,  and  returned  covered  with 
glory  to  sustain  his  aged  father  in  the  Caliphat  at 
Damascus. 

The  latter  days  of  Merwan  had*  now  arrived. 
He  had  been  intriguing  and  faithless  in  his  youth  ; 
he  was  equally  so  in  his  age.  In  his  stipulations 
on  receiving  the  Caliphat  he  had  promised  the 
succession  to  Khaled,  the  son  of  Ye/id  ;  he  had 
since  promised  it  to  his  nephew  Amru,  who  had 
fought  his  battles  and  confirmed  his  power  ;  in  his 
latter  days  he  caused  his  own  son  Abd'almalec, 
fresh  from  African  exploits,  to  be  proclaimed  his 
successor,  and  allegiance  to  be  sworn  to  him. 
Khaled,  his  step-son,  reproached  him  with  his 
breach  of  faith  ;  in  the  heat  of  reply,  MerwSn 
called  the  youth  by  an  opprobrious  epithet,  which 
brought  in  question  the  chastity  of  his  mother. 
This  unlucky  word  is  said  to  have  caused  the  sud- 
den death  of  Merwan.  His  wife,  the  mother  of 
Khaled,  is  charged  with  having  given  him  poison  ; 
others  say  that  she  threw  a  pillow  on  his  face 
while  he  slept,  and  sat  on  it  until  he  was  suffocat- 
ed. He  died  in  the  65th  year  of  the  Hegira,  A.D. 
684,  after  a  brief  reign  of  not  quite  a  year. 


CHAPTER   L. 

INAUGURATION  OF  ABD'ALMALEC,  THE  ELEVENTH 
CALIPH — STORY  OF  AL  MOKTAR,  THE  AVENGER. 

ON  the  death  of  MerwSn,  his  son  Abd'almalec 
was  inaugurated  Caliph  at  Damascus,  and  ac- 
knowledged throughout  Syria  and  Egypt,  as  well 
as  in  the  newly-conquered  parts  of  Africa.  He 
was  in  the  full  vigor  of  life,  being  about  forty 
years  of  age  ;  his  achievements  in  Africa  testify 
his  enterprise,  activity,  and  valor,  and  he  was  dis- 
tinguished for  wisdom  and  learning.  From  the 
time  of  his  father's  inauguration  he  had  been 
looking  forward  to  the  probability  of  becoming 
his  successor,  and  ambition  of  sway  had  taken 
place  of  the  military  ardor  of  his  early  youth. 
When  the  intelligence  of  his  father's  death  reached 
him,  he  was  sitting  cross-legged,  in  oriental  fash- 
ion, with  the  Koran  open  on  his  knees.  He  im- 
mediately closed  the  sacred  volume,  and  rising, 
exclaimed,  "  Fare  thee  well,  I  am  called  to  other 
matters." 

The  accession  to  sovereign  power  is  said  to 
have  wrought  a  change  in  his  character.  He  had 
always  been  somewhat  superstitious  ;  he  now  be- 
came attentive  to  signs,  omens,  and  dreams,  and 
grew  so  sordid  and  covetous  that  the  Arabs,  in 
their  propensity  to  give  characteristic  and  satiri- 
cal surnames,  used  to  call  him  Rafhol  Hejer,  that 
is  to  say,  Sweat-Stone,  equivalent  to  our  vulgar 
epithet  of  skinflint. 

Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir  was  still  acknowledged  as 
Caliph  by  a  great  portion  of  the  Moslem  dominions, 
and  held  his  seat  of  government  at  Mecca  ;  this 
gave  him  great  influence  over  the  true  believers, 
who  resorted  in  pilgrimage  to  the  Caaba.  Abd'- 
almalec determined  to  establish  a  rival  place  of 
pilgrimage  within  his  own  dominions.  For  this 


purpose  he  chose  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  sacred 
in  the  eyes  of  the  Moslems,  as  connected  with  the 
acts  and  revelations  of  Moses,  of  Jesus,  and  of 
Mahomet,  and  as  being  surrounded  by  the  tombs 
of  the  prophets.  He  caused  this  sacred  edifice  to 
be  enlarged  so  as  to  include  within  its  walls  the 
steps  upon  which  the  Caliph  Omar  prayed  on  the 
surrender  of  that  city.  It  was  thus  converted  into 
a  mosque,  and  the  venerable  and  sanctified  stone 
called  Jacob's  pillow,  on  which  the  patriarch  is 
said  to  have  had  his  dream,  was  presented  for  the 
kisses  of  pilgrims,  in  like  manner  as  the  black 
stone  ot  the  Caaba. 

There  was  at  this  time  a  general  of  bold  if  not 
ferocious  character,  who  played  a  sort  of  inde- 
pendent part  in  the  troubles  and  commotions  of 
the  Moslem  empire.  He  was  the  son  of  Abu 
Obeidah,  and  was  sometimes  called  Al  Thakifi, 
from  his  native  city  Thayef,  but  won  for  himself 
the  more  universal  appellation  of  Al  Moktar,  or 
the  Avenger.  The  first  notice  we  find  of  him  is 
during  the  short  reign  of  Hassan,  the  son  of  Ali, 
being  zealously  devoted  to  the  iamily  of  that  Ca- 
liph. We  next  find  him  at  Cufa,  harboring  and 
assisting  Muslem,  the  emissary  of  Hosein,  and 
secretly  fomenting  the  conspiracy  in  favor  of  the 
latter.  When  the  emir  Obeid'allah  came  to  Cufa, 
he  was  told  of  the  secret  practices  of  Al  Moktar, 
and  questioned  him  on  the  subject.  Receiving  a 
delusive  reply,  he  smote  him  over  the  face  with 
his  staff  and  struck  out  one  of  his  eyes.  He  then 
cast  him  into  prison,  where  he  lay  until  the  mas- 
sacre of  Hosein.  Intercessions  were  made  in  his 
favor  with  the  Caliph  Yezid,  who  ordered  his  re 
lease.  The  emir  executed  the  order,  but  gave  Al 
Moktar  notice  that  if,  after  the  expiration  of  three 
days,  he  were  found  within  his  jurisdiction,  his 
life  should  be  forfeit. 

Al  MoktSr  departed,  uttering  threats  and  male- 
dictions. One  of  his  friends  who  met  him,  in- 
quired concerning  the  loss  of  his  eye.  "  It  was 
the  act  of  that  son  of  a  wanton,  Obeid'allah,"  said 
he,  bitterly  ;  "  but  may  Allah  confound  me  it  I  do 
not  one  day  cut  him  in  pieces."  Blood  revenge 
for  the  death  of  Hosein  became  now  his  ruling 
thought.  "  May  Allah  forsake  me,"  he  would 
say,  "  if  I  do  not  kill  as  many  in  vengeance  ot  that 
massacre,  as  were  destroyed  to  avenge  the  blood 
of  John,  the  son  of  Zacharias,  on  whom  be 
peace  !" 

He  now  repaired  to  Mecca,  and  presented  him- 
self before  Abdallah  Ibn  Zobeir,  who  had  recently 
been  inaugurated  ;  but  he  would  not  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  until  the  Caliph  had  declared  his 
disposition  to  revenge  the  murder  of  Hosein. 
"  Never,"  said  he,  "  will  the  affairs  of  Abdallah 
prosper,  until  I  am  at  the  head  of  his  army  taking 
revenge  for  that  murder." 

Al  Mokt5r  fought  valiantly  in  defence  of  the 
sacred  city  while  besieged  ;  but  when  the  siege 
was  raised  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Yezid, 
and  Abdallah  became  generally  acknowledged,  he 
found  the  Caliph  growing  cold  toward  him,  or 
toward  the  constant  purpose  of  his  thoughts  ;  he 
left  him  therefore,  and  set  out  for  Cufa,  visiting 
all  the  mosques  on  the  way,  haranguing  the  peo» 
pie  on  the  subject  of  the  death  of  Hosein,  and  da 
claring  himself  his  avenger. 

On  arriving  at  Cufa  he  found  his  self-appointed 
office  of  avenger  likely  to  be  forestalled  by  the  vet- 
eran Solyman,  who  was  about  to  depart  on  his 
mad  enterprise  with  his  crazy  Penitents.  Calling 
together  the  sectaries  of  Ali,  he  produced  creden- 
tials from  Mahomet,  the  brother  of  Hosein,  which 
gained  for  him  their  confidence,  and  then  reprc- 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


103 


sented  to  them  the  rashness  and  futility  of  the  pro- 
posed expedition  ;  and  to  his  opposition  may  be 
ascribed  the  diminished  number  of  volunteers  that 
assembled  at  the  call  of  Solyman. 

While  thus  occupied  he  was  arrested  on  a 
charge  of  plotting  an  insurrection  with  a  view  to 
seize  upon  the  province,  and  was  thrown  into  the 
same  prison  in  which  he  had  been  confined  by 
Obeid'allah.  During  his  confinement  he  kept  up 
a  correspondence  with  the  sectaries  of  AH  by  let- 
ters conveyed  in  the  lining  of  a  cap.  On  the 
death  of  the  Caliph  Merwan  he  was  released  from 
prison,  and  found  himself  head  of  the  Allans,  or 
powerful  sect  of  AH,  whoeven  offered  their  adhe- 
sion to  him  as  Caliph,  on  condition  that  he  would 
govern  according  to  the  Koran,  and  the  Sonna  or 
traditions,  and  would  destroy  the  murderers  of 
Hosein  and  his  family. 

Al  Moktar  entered  heartily  upon  the  latter  part 
of  his  duties,  and  soon  established  his  claim  to 
the  title  of  Avenger.  The  first  on  whom  he 
wreaked  his  vengeance  was  the  ferocious  Shamar, 
who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  massacre  of 
Hosein.  Him  he  overcame  and  slew.  The  next 
was  Caulah,  who  cut  off  the  head  of  Hosein  and 
conveyed  it  to  the  emir  Obeid'allah.  Him  he  be- 
leaguered in  his  dwelling,  and  killed,  and  gave 
his  body  to  the  flames.  His  next  victim  was  Amar 
Ibn  Saad,  the  commander  of  the  army  that  sur- 
rounde:!  Hosein  ;  with  him  he  slew  his  son,  and 
sent  both  of  their  heads  to  Mahomet,  the  brother 
of  Hosein.  He  then  seized  Adi  Ibn  Hathem,  who 
had  stripped  the  body  of  Hosein  while  the  limbs 
were  yet  quivering  with  life.  Him  he  handed 
over  to  some  of  the  sect  of  AH,  who  stripped  him, 
set  him  up  as  a  target,  and  discharged  arrows  at 
him  until  they  stood  out  from  his  body  like  the 
quills  ot  a  porcupine.  In  this  way  Al  Moktar  went 
on,  searching  out  the  murderers  of  Hosein  wher- 
ever they  were  to  be  found,  and  inflicting  on  them 
a  diversity  of  deaths. 

Sustained  by  the  Alians,  or  sect  of  Ali,  he  now 
maintained  a  military  sway  in  Cufa,  and  held,  in 
fact,  a  sovereign  authority  over  Babylonia  ;  he 
felt,  however,  that  his  situation  was  precarious  ; 
an  army  out  of  Syria,  sent  by  Abd'almalec,  was 
threatening  him  on  one  side  ;  and  Musab,  brother 
of  the  Caliph  Abdallah,  was  in  great  force  at 
Bassora  menacing  him  on  the  other.  He  now 
had  recourse  to  stratagems  to  sustain  his  power, 
and  accomplish  his  great  scheme  of  vengeance. 
He  made  overtures  to  Abdallah,  offering  to  join 
him  with  his  forces.  The  wary  Caliph  suspected 
his  sincerity,  and  required,  as  proofs  ot  it,  the 
oath  of  allegiance  from  himself  and  his  people, 
and  a  detachment  to  proceed  against  the  army  of 
Abd'almalec.  « 

Al  Moktar  promptly  sent  off  an  officer,  named 
Serjabil,  with  three  thousand  men,  with  orders  to 
proceed  to  Medina.  Abdallah,  still  wary  and  sus- 
picious, dispatched  a  shrewd  general,  Abbas  Ibn 
Sahel,  with  a  competent  force  to  meet  Serjabil 
and  sound  his  intentions,  and  if  he  were  convinced 
there  was  lurking  treachery,  to  act  accordingly. 

Abbas  and  Serjabil  encountered  at  the  head  of 
their  troops  on  the  highway  to  Medina.  They 
had  an  amicable  conference,  in  which  Abbas 
thought  he  discovered  sufficient  proof  of  perfidy. 
He  took  measures  accordingly.  Finding  the  lit- 
tle army  of  Serjabil  almost  famished  for  lack  of 
provisions,  he  killed  a  great  number  of.  fat  sheep 
and  distributed  them  among  the  hungry  troops. 
A  scene  of  hurry  and  glad  confusion  immediately 
took  place.  Some  scattered  themselves  about  the 
neighborhood  in  search  of  fuel  ;  some  were  cook- 


ing, some  feasting.  In  this  unguarded  moment 
Abbas  set  upon  them  with  his  troops,  slew  Ser- 
jabil and  nearly  four  hundred  of  his  men  ;  but 
gave  quarter  to  the  rest,  most  of  whom  enlisted 
under  his  standard. 

Al  Moktar,  finding  that  his  good  faith  was 
doubted  by  Abdallah,  wrote  privately  to  Mahomet, 
brother  of  Hosein,  who  was  permitted  by  the  Ca- 
liph to  reside  in  Mecca,  where  he  led  a  quiet,  in- 
offensive life,  offering  to  bring  a  powerful  army  to 
his  assistance  if  he  would  take  up  arms.  Ma- 
homet sent  a  verbal  reply,  assuring  Al  Moktar  of 
his  belief  in  the  sincerity  of  his  offers  ;  but  declin- 
ing all  appeal  to  arms,  saying  he  was  resolved  to 
bear  his  lot  with  patience,  and  leave  the  event  to 
God.  As  the  messenger  was  departing,  "he  gave 
him  a  parting  word  :  "  Bid  Al  Moktar  fear  God 
and  abstain  from  shedding  blood." 

The  pious  resignation  and  passive  life  of  Ma- 
homet were  of  no  avail.  The  suspicious  eye  of 
Abdallah  was  fixed  upon  him.  The  Cufians  of 
the  sect  of  Ali,  and  devotees  to  the  memory  of 
Hosein,  who  yielded  allegiance  to  neither  of  the 
rival  Caliphs,  were  still  permitted  to  make  their 
pilgrimages  to  the  Caaba,  and  when  in  Mecca 
did  not  fail  to  do  honor  to  Mahomet  Ibn  Ali  and 
his  family.  The  secret  messages  of  Al  Moktar  to 
Mahomet  were  likewise  known.  The  Caliph  Ab- 
dallah, suspecting  a  conspiracy,  caused  Mahomet 
and  his  family,  and  seventeen  of  the  principal 
pilgrims  from  Cufa,  to  be  arrested,  and  confined 
in  the  edifice  by  the  sacred  well  Zem  Zem,  threat- 
ening them  with  death  unless  by  a  certain  time 
they  gave  the  pledge  of  allegiance. 

From  their  prison  they  contrived  to  send  a  let- 
ter to  Al  Moktar,  apprising  him  of  their  perilous 
condition.  He  assembled  the  Alians,  or  sect  of 
Ali,  at  Cufa,  and  read  the  letter.  "  This  comes," 
said  he,  "  from  Mahomet,  the  son  of  Ali  and 
brother  of  Hosein.  He  and  his  family,  the  purest 
of  the  house  of  your  prophet,  are  shut  up  like 
sheep  destined  for  the  slaughter.  Will  you  desert 
them  in  their  extremity,  and  leave  them  to  be 
massacred  as  you  did  the  martyr  Hosein  and  his 
family  ?" 

The  appeal  was  effectual  ;  the  Alians  cried  out 
to  be  led  to  Mecca.  Al  Moktar  marshalled  out 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  men,  bold  riders,  hard 
fighters,  well  armed  and  fleetly  mounted,  arranged 
them  in  small  troops  to  follow  each  other  at  con- 
siderable intervals,  troop  after  troop  like  the 
waves  of  the  sea  ;  the  leader  of  the  first  troop, 
composed  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  men,  was  Abu 
Abdallah  Aljodali.  He  set  off  first  ;  the  others 
followed  at  sufficient  distance  to  be  out  of  sight, 
but  all  spurred  forward,  for  no  time  was  to  be 
lost. 

Abu  AbdaHah  was  the  first  to  enter  Mecca. 
His  small  troop  awakened  no  alarm.  He  made 
his  way  to  the  well  of  Zem  Zem,  crying,  "  Ven- 
geance for  Hosein  ;"  drove  off  the  guard  and 
broke  open  the  prison  house,  whence  he  liberated 
Mahomet  Ibn  Ali  and  his  family. 

The  tumult  brought  the  Caliph  and  his  guard. 
Abu  Abdallah  would  have  given  them  battle,  but 
Mahomet  interfered,  and  represented  that  it  was 
impious  to  fight  within  the  precincts  of  the  Caaba. 
The  Caliph,  seeing  the  small  force  that  was  with 
Abdallah,  would  on  his  part  have  proceeded  to 
violence,  when  lo,  the  second  troop  ot  hard  riders 
spurred  up  ;  then  the  third,  and  presently  all  the 
rest,  shouting  "  Allah  Achbar,"  and  "  Ven- 
geance lor  Hosein." 

The  Caliph,  taken  by  surprise,  lost  all  presence 
of  mind.  He  knew  the  popularity  of  Mahomet 


164 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


ay 
then   with   his   family   departed    in   safety   from 


Ibn  All  and  his  family,  and  dreaded  an  insurrec- 
tion. Abu  Abdallah  in  the  moment  of  triumph 
would  have  put  him  to  death,  but  his  hand  was 
stayed  by  the  pious  and  humane  Mahomet.  The 
matter  was  peaceably  adjusted.  The  Caliph  was 
left  unmolested  ;  Mahomet  distributed  among 
his  friends  and  adherents  a  great  sum  of  money, 
which  had  been  sent  to  him  by  Al  Moktar,  and 
then  w 
Mecca. 

Al  Moktar  had  now  to  look  to  his  safety  at 
home  ;  his  old  enemy  Obeid'allah,  former  emir  of 
Cufa,  was  pressing  forward  at  the  head  of  an 
army  of  the  Caliph  Abd'almalec,  to  recover  that 
city,  holding  out  to  his  troops  a  promise  of  three 
days'  sack  and  pillage.  Al  Moktar  called  on  the 
inhabitants  to  take  arms  against  their  former 
tyrant  and  the  murderer  of  Hosein.  A  body  of 
troops  sallied  forth  headed  by  Ibrahim,  the  son  of 
Alashtar.  To  give  a  mysterious  sanctity  to  the 
expedition,  Al  Moktar  caused  a  kind  of  throne 
covered  with  a  veil  to  be  placed  on  a  mule,  and 
led  forth  with  the  army  ;  to  be  to  them  what  the 
ark  was  to  the  children  of  Israel,  a  sacred  safe- 
guard. On  going  into  battle,  the  following  prayer 
was  to  be  offered  up  at  it  :  "  Oh  God  !  keep  us  in 
obedience  to  thee,  and  help  us  in  our  need."  To 
which  all  the  people  were  to  respond,  "  Amen  !" 

The  army  of  Ibrahim  encountered  the  host  of 
Obeid'allah  on  the  plains,  at  some  distance  from 
Cufa.  They  rushed  forward  with  a  holy  enthusi- 
asm inspired  by  the  presence  of  their  ark  : 
"  Vengeance  for  Hosein  !"  was  their  cry,  and  it 
smote  upon  the  heart  of  Obeid'allah.  The  battle 
was  fierce  and  bloody  ;  the  Syrian  force,  though 
greatly  superior,  was  completely  routed  ;  Obeid'- 
allah was  killed,  fighting  with  desperate  valor, 
and  more  of  his  soldiers  were  drowned  in  the 
flight  than  were  slaughtered  in  the  field.  This 
signal  victory  was  attributed,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  the  presence  of  the  ark  or  veiled  throne,  which 
thenceforward  was  regarded  almost  with  idolatry. 

Ibrahim  caused  the  body  of  Obeid'allah  to  be 
burned  to  ashes,  and  sent  his  head  to  Al  Moktar. 
The  gloomy  heart  of  the  avenger  throbbed  with 
exultation  as  he  beheld  this  reiic  of  the  man  who 
had  oppressed,  insulted,  and  mutilated  him  ;  he 
recollected  the  blow  over  the  face  which  had  de- 
prived him  of  an  eye,  and  smote  the  gory  head  of 
Obeid'allah,  even  as  he  had  been  smitten. 

Thus,  says  the  royal  and  pious  historian  Abul- 
feda,  did  Allah  make  use  of  the  deadly  hate  of  Al 
Moktar  to  punish  Obeid'allah,  the  son  of  Ziyad, 
for  the  martyrdom  of  Hosein. 

The  triumph  of  Al  Moktar  was  not  of  long  du- 
ration. He  r\iled  over  a  fickle  people,  and  he 
ruled  them  with  a  rod  of  iron.  He  persecuted  all 
who  were  not,  or  whom  he  chose  to  consider  as 
not,  of  the  Hosein  party,  and  he  is  charged  with 
fomenting  an  insurrection  of  the  slaves  against 
the  chief  men  of  the  city  of  Cufa.  A  combination 
was  at  length  formed  against  him,  and  an  invita- 
tion was  sent  to  Musab  Ibn  Zobeir,  who  had  been 
appointed  emir  of  Bassora,  by  his  brother,  the  Ca- 
liph Abdallah. 

The  invitation  was  borne  by  one  Shebet,  an  en- 
thusiast who  made  his  entrance  into  Bassora  on  a 
mule  with  cropt  ears  and  tail,  his  clothes  rent,  ex- 
claiming with  a  loud  voice,  "  Ya,  gautha  !  Ya 
gautha  !  Help  !  help  !"  He  delivered  his  mes- 
sage in  a  style  suited  to  his  garb,  but  accompanied 
it  by  letters  from  the  chief  men  of  Cufa,  which 
stated  their  grievances  in  a  more  rational  manner. 
Musab  wrote  instantly  to  Al  Mohalleb,  the  emir 
of  Persia,  one  of  the  ablest  generals  of  the  time, 


to  come  to  his  aid  with  men  and  money  ;  and  on 
his  arrival,  joined  forces  with  -him  to  attack  the 
Avenger  in  his  seat  of  power. 

Al  Moktar  did  not  wait  to  be  besieged.  He 
took  the  field  with  his  accustomed  daring,  and 
gave  battle  beneath  the  walls  of  his  capital.  It 
was  a  bloody  fight  ;  the  presence  of  the  mysteri- 
ous throne  had  its  effect  upon  the  superstitious 
minds  of  the  Cufians,  but  Al  Moktar  had  become 
hateful  from  his  tyranny,  and  many  of  the  first 
people  were  disaffected  to  him.  His  army  was 
routed  ;  he  retreated  into  the  royal  citadel  of 
Cufa,  and  defended  it  bravely  and  skilfully,  until 
he  received  a  mortal  wound.  Their  chief  being 
killed,  the  garrison  surrendered  at  discretion,  and 
Musab  put  every  man  to  the  sword,  to  the  number 
of  seven  thousand. 

Thus  fell  Al  Moktar  Ibn  Abu  Obeidah,  in  his 
sixty-seventh  year,  after  having  defeated  the  ablest 
generals  of  three  Caliphs,  and  by  the  sole  power 
of  his  sword  made  himself  the  independent  ruler 
of  all  Babylonia.  He  is  said  never  to  have  par- 
doned an  enemy,  to  have  persecuted  with  invet- 
erate hate  all  who  were  hostile  to  the  family  of 
Ali,  and  in  vengeance  of  the  massacre  of  Hosein 
to  have  shed  the  blood  of  nearly  fifty  thousand 
men,  exclusive  of  those  who  were  slain  in  battle. 
Well  did  he  merit  the  title  of  the  Avenger. 


CHAPTER  LI. 

MUSAB  IBN  ZOBEIR  TAKES  POSSESSION  OF  BABY- 
LONIA —  USURPATION  OF  AMRU  IBN  SAAD  ; 
HIS  DEATH  —  EXPEDITION  OF  ABD'ALMALEC 
AGAINST  MUSAB — THE  RESULT — OMENS  ;  THEIR 
EFFECT  UPON  ABD'ALMALEC— EXPLOITS  OF  AL 
MOHALLEB. 

THE  death  of  Al  Moktar  threw  the  province  of 
Babylonia,  with  its  strong  capital,  Cufa,  into  the 
hands  of  Musab  Ibn  Zobeir,  brother  to  the  Caliph 
Abdallah.  Musab  was  well  calculated  to  win  the 
favor  of  the  people.  He  was  in  the  flower  of  his 
days,  being  but  thirty-six  years  of  age,  comely  in 
person,  engaging  in  manners,  generous  in  spirit, 
and  of  consummate  bravery,  though  not  much 
versed  in  warfare.  He  had  been  an  intimate 
friend  of  Abd'almalec  before  the  latter  was  made 
Caliph,  but  he  was  brother  to  the  rival  Caliph, 
and  connected  by  marriage  with  families  in  dead- 
ly opposition  to  the  house  of  Ommiah.  Abd'al- 
malec, therefore,  regarded  him  as  a  formidable 
foe,  and,  warned  by  the  disasters  of  his  army  un- 
der Obeid'allah,  resolved  now  to  set  out  at  the 
head  of  a  second  expedition  in  person,  designed 
for  the  invasion  of  Babylonia. 

In  setting  forth  on  this  enterprise  he  confided 
the  government  of  Damascus  to  his  cousin,  Amru 
Ibn  Saad  ;  he  did  this  in  consideration  of  the  mil- 
itary skill  of  Amru,  though  secretly  there  was  a 
long  nourished  hate  between  them.  The  origin 
of  this  hatred  shows  the  simplicity  of  Saracen 
manners  in  those  days.  When  boys,  Abd'alma- 
lec and  Amru  were  often  under  the  care  of  an  old 
beldame  of  their  family,  who  used  to  prepare  their 
meals,  and  produce  quarrels  between  them  in  the 
allotment  of  their  portions.  These  childish  dis- 
putes became  fierce  quarrels  and  broils  as  they 
grew  up  together,  and  were  rivals  in  their  youthful 
games  and  exercises.  In  manhood  they  ripened 
into  deadly  jealousy  and  envy,  as  they  became 
conquering  generals  ;  but  the  elevation  of  Abd'al- 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


165 


malec  to  the  Caliphat  sank  deep  into  the  heart 
of  Amru,  as  a  flagrant  wrong  ;  the  succession 
having,  been  promised  to  him  by  his  uncle,  the 
late  Caliph  Merwan,  as  a  reward  for  having  sub- 
jugated Egypt.  As  soon,  therefore,  as  Abd'al- 
malec had  departed  from  Damascus,  Amru,  not 
content  with  holding  the  government  of  the  city, 
aspired  to  the  sovereignty  of  Syria,  as  his  rightful 
dominion. 

Abd'almalec  heard  of  the  usurpation  while  on 
the  march,  returned  rapidly  in  his  steps,  and  a 
bloody  conflict  ensued  between  the  forces  of  the 
rival  cousins  in  the  streets  of  Damascus.  The 
women  rushed  between  them  ;  held  up  their  chil- 
dren and  implored  the  combatants  to  desist  from 
this  unnatural  warfare.  Amru  laid  down  his 
arms,  and  articles  of  reconciliation  were  drawn  up 
and  signed  by  the  cousins. 

Abd'almalec  proved  faithless  to  his  engage- 
ments. Getting  Amru  into  his  power  by  an  art- 
ful stratagem,  he  struck  off  his  head,  put  to  death 
the  principal  persons  who  had  supported  him  in 
his  usurpation,  and  banished  his  family.  As  the 
exiles  were  about  to  depart,  he  demanded  of  the 
widow  of  Amru  the  written  articles  of  pacifica- 
tion which  he  had  exchanged  with  her  husband. 
She  replied  that  she  had  folded  them  up  in  his 
winding-sheet,  to  be  at  hand  at  the  final  day  of 
judgment. 

Abd'almalec  now  resumed  his  march  for 
^Babylonia.  He  had  sent  agents  before  him  to 
tamper  with  the  fidelity  of  the  principal  persons. 
One  of  these,  Ibrahim  Ibn  Alashtar,  he  had  offer- 
ed to  make  emir  if  he  would  serve  his  cause. 
Ibrahim,  who  was  of  incorruptible  integrity, 
showed  the  letter  to  Musab,  warned  him  that  sim- 
ilar attempts  must  have  been  made  to  sap  the 
fidelity  of  other  persons  of  importance,  and  advised 
him  to  use  the  scimetar  freely,  wherever  he  sus- 
pected disaffection  ;  but  Musab  was  too  just  and 
merciful  to  act  thus  upon  mere  suspicion.  The 
event  showed  that  Ibrahim  understood  the  fickle 
and  perfidious  nature  of  the  people  of  Irak. 

A  battle  took  place  on  the  margin  of  the  desert, 
not  far  from  Palmyra.  It  commenced  with  a  gal- 
lant charge  of  cavalry,  headed  by  Ibrahim  Ibn 
Alashtar,  which  broke  the  ranks  of  the  Syrians 
and  made  great  havoc.  Abd'almalec  came  up 
with  a  reinforcement,  and  rallied  his  scattered 
troops.  In  making  a  second  charge,  however, 
Ibrahim  was  slain,  and  now  the  perfidy  of  the 
Cufians  became  apparent.  Musab's  general  of 
horse  wheeled  round  and  spurred  ignominiously 
from  the  field  ;  others  of  the  leaders  refused  to 
advance.  Musab  called  loudly  for  Ibrahim  ;  but 
seeing  his  lifeless  body  on  the  ground,  "  Alas  !" 
he  exclaimed,  "  there  is  no  Ibrahim  for  me  this 
day." 

Turning  to  his  son  Isa,  a  mere  stripling,  yet 
who  had  fought  with  manly  valor  by  his  side, 
"  Fly,  my  son,"  cried  he  ;  "  fly  to  thy  uncle  Ab- 
dallah  at  Mecca  ;  tell  him  of  my  fate,  and  of  the 
perfidy  of  the  men  of  Irak."  Isa,  who  inherited 
the  undaunted  spirit  of  the  family  of  Zobeir,  re- 
fused to  leave  his  father.  ''  Let  us  retreat,"  said 
he,  "  to  Bassora,  where  you  will  still  find  friends, 
and  may  thence  make  good  your  return  to  Mecca." 
"  No,  my  son  !"  replied  Musab,  "  never  shall 
it  be  said  among  the  men  of  Koreish,  that  I  fled 
the  field  of  battle,  or  entered  the  temple  of  Mec- 
ca a  vanquished  general  !" 

During  an  interval  of  the  battle,  Abd'alrniilec 
sent  Musab  an  offer  of  his  life.  His  reply  was, 
he  had  come  to  conquer  or  to  die.  The  conflict 
was  soon  at  an  end.  The  troops  who  adhered  to 


Musab  were  cut  to  pieces,  his  son  Isa  was  slain 
by  his  side,  and  he  himself,  after  being  repeatedly 
wounded  with  arrows,  was  stabbed  to  the  heart, 
and  his  head  struck  off. 

When  Abd'almalec  entered  Cufa  in  triumph, 
the  fickle  inhabitants  thronged  to  welcome  him 
and  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  and  he  found  him- 
self in  quiet  possession  of  both  Babylonia  and 
Persian  Irak.  He  distributed  great  sums  of 
money  to  win  the  light  affections  of  the  popu- 
lace, and  gave  a  sumptuous  banquet  in  the  citadel 
to  which  all  were  welcome. 

In  the  height  of  the  banquet,  when  all  was  rev- 
elry, a  thought  passed  through  the  mind  of  the 
Caliph,  as  to  the  transient  duration  of  all  human 
grandeur.  "  Alas  !"  he  ejaculated,  "  how  sweetly 
we  might  live,  if  a  shadow  would  but' last!" 
The  same  vein  of  melancholy  continued  when  the 
banquet  was  over,  and  he  walked  about  the  castle 
with  an  old  gray-headed  inhabitant,  listening  to 
his  account  of  its  antiquities  and  traditions.  Ev- 
ery reply  of  the  old  man  to  his  questions  about 
things  or  persons  began  with  the  words,  "  This 
was — That  was — He  was." 

"  Alas  !"  sighed  the  Caliph,  repeating  a  verse 
from  an  Arabian  poet  ;  "  everything  new  soon  run- 
neth to  decay,  and  of  every  one  that  is,  it  is  soon 
said,  He  was  !" 

While  thus  conversing,  the  head  of  Musab 
was  brought  to  him,  and  he  ordered  a  thou- 
sand dinars  of  gold  to  the  soldier  who  brought 
it,  but  he  refused  the  reward.  "  I  slew  him," 
he  said,  "  not  for  money,  but  to  avenge  a  pri- 
vate wrong."  The  old  chronicler  of  the  castle 
now  broke  forth  on  the  wonderful  succession 
of  events.  "  I  am  fourscore  and  ten  years  old," 
said  he,  "  and  have  outlived  many  genera- 
tions. In  this  very  castle  I  have  seen  the  head  of 
Hosein  presented  toObeid'allah,  the  son  of  Ziyad  ; 
then  the  head  of  Obeid'allah  to  Al  Moktar  ;  then 
the  head  of  Al  Moktar  to  Musab,  and  now  that  of 
Musab  to  yourself."  The  Caliph  was  supersti- 
tious, and  the  words  of  the  old  man  sounded  omi- 
nously as  the  presage  ol  a  brief  career  to  himself. 
He  determined  that  his  own  head  should  not  meet 
-with  similar  fate  within  that  castle's  walls,  and 
gave  orders  to  raze  the  noble  citadel  of  Cufa  to  the 
foundation. 

Abd'almalec  now  appointed  his  brother  Besher 
Ibn  Merwan  to  the  government  of  Babylonia  ; 
and  as  he  was  extremely  young,  he  gave  him,  as 
chief  counsellor,  or  vizier,  a  veteran  named  Musa 
Ibn  Nosseyr,  who  had  long  enjoyed  the  confidence 
of  the  family  of  Merwan,  as  had  his  father  before 
him.  It  is  said  by  some  that  his  father  Nosseyr 
was  a  liberated  slave  of  the  Caliph's  brother  Abd'- 
alaziz,  and  employed  by  him  in  high  functions. 
So  great  was  the  confidence  of  the  Caliph  in  Musa 
that  he  intrusted  him  with  all  the  military  rolls  of 
the  province,  and  signified  to  him  that  in  future 
the  responsibility  would  rest  upon  him.  On  taking 
possession  of  his  government,  Besher  delivered 
his  seal  of  office  into  the  hands  of  Musa,  and  in- 
trusted him  with  the  entire  management  of  affairs. 
This  Musa,  it  will  be  found,  rose  afterward  to 
great  renown. 

The  Caliph  also  appointed  Khaled  Ibn  Abdallah 
to  the  command  at  Bassora,  after  which  he  re- 
turned to  his  capital  of  Damascus.  The  province 
of  Babylonia,  however,  was  not  destined  to  re- 
main long  at  peace.  There  was  at  this  time  a 
powerful  Moslem  sect  in  Persia,  a  branch  of  the 
Motalazites,  called  Azarakites  from  the  name  of 
their  founder  Ibn  Al  Azarak,  but  known  also  by 
the  name  of  Separatists.  They  were  enemies  of 


166 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS    SUCCESSORS. 


all  regular  government,  and  fomenters  of  sedition 
and  rebellion.  During  the  sway  of  the  unfortu- 
nate Musab  they  had  given  him  great  trouble  by 
insurrections  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  ac- 
companied by  atrocious  cruelties.  They  had  been 
kept  in  check,  however,  by  Mohalleb,  the  lieuten- 
ant of  Musab  and  one  of  the  ablest  generals  of  the 
age,  who  was  incessantly  on  the  alert  at  the  head 
of  the  army,  and  never  allowed  their  insurrections 
to  come  to  any  head. 

Mohalleb  was  on  a  distant  command  at  the  time 
of  the  invasion  and  conquest.  As  soon  as  he 
heard  of  the  defeat  and  death  of  Musab,  and  the 
change  in  the  government  of  Irak,  he  hastened  to 
Bassora  to  acknowledge  allegiance  to  Abd 'alma- 
lee.  Khaled  accepted  his  services,  in  the  name 
of  the  Caliph,  but  instead  of  returning  him  to  the 
post  he  had  so  well  sustained  at  the  head  of  the 
army,  appointed  him  supervisor  or  collector  of 
tributes,  and  gave  the  command  of  the  forces  to 
his  own  brother,  named  Abd'alaziz.  The  change 
was  unfortunate.  The  Azarakites  had  already 
taken  breath,  and  acquired  strength  during  the 
temporary  absence  of  their  old  adversary,  Mohal- 
leb ;  but  as  soon  as  they  heard  he  was  no  longer 
in  command,  they  collected  all  their  forces  and 
made  a  rapid  inroad  into  Irak. 

Abd'alaziz  advanced  to  meet  them  ;  but  he  was 
new  to  his  own  troops,  being  a  native  of  Mecca, 
and  he  knew  little  of  the  character  of  the  enemy. 
He  was>  entirely  routed,  and  his  wife,  a  woman  of 
great  beauty,  taken  captive.  A  violent  dispute 
arose  among  the  captors  as  to  the  ransom  of  their 
prize,  some  valuing  her  at  one  hundred  thousand 
dinars  ;  until  a  furious  zealot,  indignant  that  her 
beauty  should  cause  dissension  among  them, 
struck  off  her  head. 

The  Caliph  Abd'almalec  was  deeply  grieved 
when  he  heard  of  this  defeat,  and  wrote  to  Khaled, 
emir  of  Bassora,  reproving  him  for  having  taken  the 
command  of  the  army  from  Mohalleb,  a  man  of 
penetrating  judgment,  and  hardened  in  war,  and 
given  it  to  Abd'alaziz,  "  a  mere  Arab  of  Mecca." 
He  ordered  him,  therefore,  to  replace  Mohalleb 
forthwith,  and  wrote  also  to  his  brother  Besher, 
emir  of  Babylonia,  to  send  the  general  reinforce- 
ments. 

Once  more  Mohalleb  proved  his  generalship 
by  defeating  the  Azrakites  in  a  signal  and  bloody 
battle  near  the  city  of  Ahwaz  ;  nor  did  he  suffer 
them  to  rally,  but  pursued  them  over  the  borders 
and  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  until  his 
troops  lost  almost  all  their  horses,  and  returned 
crowned  with  victory,  but  wayworn  and  almost 
famished. 

The  effect  of  all  these  internal  wars  was  to  di- 
minish, tor  a  time,  the  external  terror  of  the  Mos- 
lem name.  The  Greek  emperor,  during  the  re- 
cent troubles,  had  made  successful  incursions  into 
Syria  ;  and  Abd'almalec,  finding  enemies  enough 
among  those  of  his  own  faith,  had  been  fain  to 
purchase  a  humiliating  truce  of  the  Christian  po- 
tentate by  an  additional  yearly  tribute  of  fifty  thou- 
sand ducats. 


CHAPTER  LIT. 

ABD'ALMALEC  MAKES  WAR  UPON  HIS  RIVAL 
CALIPH  IN  MECCA — SIEGE  OF  THE  SACRED 
CITY — DEATH  OF  ABDALLAH — DEMOLITION  AND 
RECONSTRUCTION  OF  THE  CAABA. 

ABD'ALMALEC,  by  his  recent  victories,  had  made 
himself  sovereign  of  all  the  eastern  part  of  the 


Moslem  dominions  ;  he  had  protected  himself  also 
from  the  Christian  emperor  by  a  disgraceful  aug- 
mentation of  tribute  ;  he  now  determined  to  carry 
a  war  against  his  rival,  Abdallah,  to  the  very  gates 
of  Mecca,  and  make  himself  ^sovereign  of  an  un- 
divided empire. 

The  general  chosen  for  this  important  enter- 
prise was  Al  Hejagi  (or  Hedjadgi)  Ibn  Yusef, 
who  rose  to  renown  as  one  of  the  ablest  ami 
most  eloquent  men  of  that  era.  He  set  off  from 
Damascus  with  but  two  thousand  men,  but  was 
joined  by  Taric  Ibn  Amar  with  five  thousand 
more.  Abd'almalec  had  made  proclamations 
beforehand,  promising  protection  and  favor  to 
such  of  the  adherents  of  Abdallah  as  should  come 
unto  his  allegiance,  and  he  trusted  that  many  of 
the  inhabitants  of  Mecca  would  desert  to  the 
standard  of  Al  Hejagi. 

Abdallah  sent  forth  troops  of  horse  to  waylay 
and  check  the  advance  of  the  army,  but  they  were 
easily  repulsed,  and  Al  Hejagi  arrived  without 
much  difficulty  before  the  sacred  city.  Before  pro- 
ceeding to  hostilities  he  discharged  arrows  over 
the  walls,  carrying  letters,  in  which  the  inhabitants 
were  assured  that  he  came  merely  to  release  them 
from  the  tyranny  of  Abdallah,  and  were  invited 
to  accept  the  most  favorable  terms,  and  abandon 
a  man  who  would  fain  die  with  the  title  of  Caliph, 
though  the  ruins  of  Mecca  should  be  his  sepul- 
chre. 

The  city  was  now  assailed  with  battering-rams 
and  catapultas  ;  breaches  were  made  in  the 
walls  ;  the  houses  within  were  shattered  by  great 
stones,  or  set  on  hre  by  Haming  balls  of  pitch  and 
naphtha. 

A  violent  storm  of  thunder  and  lightning  killed 
several  of  the  besiegers,  and  brought  them  to  a 
pause.  "  Allah  is  wreaking  his  anger  upon  us," 
said  they,  "for  assailing  his  holy  city."  Al 
Hejagi  rebuked  their  superstitious  fears  and  com- 
pelled them  to  renew  the  attack,  setting  them  an 
example  by  discharging  a  stone  with  his  own 
hands. 

On  the  following  day  there  was  another  storm, 
which  did  most  injury  to  the  garrison.  "  You 
perceive,"  said  Al  Hejagi,  "  the  thunder  strikes 
your  enemies  as  well  as  yourselves." 

The  besieged  held  out  valiantly,  and  repulsed 
every  assault.  Abdallah,  though  now  aged  and 
infirm,  proved  himself  a  worthy  son  of  Zobeir. 
During  the  early  part  of  the  siege  he  resided 
chiefly  in  the  Caaba  ;  that  sacred  edifice,  therefore, 
became  an  object  of  attack  ;  a  part  of  it  was  bat- 
tered down  by  stones,  and  it  was  set  on  lire  re- 
peatedly by  the  balls  of  naphtha.  He  therefore 
abandoned  it,  and  retired  to  his  own  dwelling. 
He  was  sustained  throughout  all  this  time  of  peril 
by  the  presence  and  counsels  of  his  mother,  a 
woman  of  masculine  spirit  and  unfailing  energy, 
though  ninety  years  of  age.  She  was  the  grand- 
daughter of  Abu  Beker,  and  proved  herself  worthy 
of  her  descent.  She  accompanied  her  son  to  the 
ramparts,  caused  refreshments  to  be  distributed 
among  the  fighting  men,  was  consulted  in  every 
emergency  and  present  in  every  danger. 

The  siege  continued  with  unremitting  strictness  ; 
many  of  Abdallah's  most  devoted  friends  were 
killed  ;  others  became  disheartened  ;  nearly  ten 
thousand  of  the  inhabitants  deserted  to  the  enemy  ; 
even  two  of  the  Caliph's  sons,  Hamzaand  Koheib, 
forsook  him,  and  made  terms  for  themselves  with 
the  besiegers. 

In  this  forlorn  state,  his  means  of  defence 
almost  exhausted,  and  those  who  ought  to  have 
been  most  faithful  deserting  him,  Abdallah  was 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


167 


tempted   by  an  offer    of  his  own    terms  on  con- 
dition of  surrender. 

He  turned  to  his  aged  mother  for  advice. 
"Judge  for  yourself,  my  son,"  said  the  resolute 
descendant  of  Abu  Beker.  "  If  you  feel  that  your 
cause  is  just,  persevere.  Your  father  Zobeir  died 
for  it,  as  did  many  of  your  friends.  Do  not  bend 
your  neck  to  the  scorn  of  the  haughty  race  of  Om- 
miah.  How  much  better  an  honorable  death 
than  a  dishonored  life  for  the  brief  term  you  have 
yet  to  live." 

The  Caliph  kissed  her  venerable  forehead. 
"  Thy  thoughts  are  my  own,"  said  he,  "  nor  has 
any  other  motive  than  zeal  for  God  induced  me 
thus  far  to  persevere.  From  this  moment,  con- 
sider thy  son  as  dead,  and  refrain  from  immoder- 
ate lamentation."  "  My  trust  is  in  God,"  replied 
she,  "and  I -shall  have  comfort  in  thee,  my  son, 
whether  I  go  before  or  follow  thee." 

As  she  took  a  parting  embrace,  she  felt  a  coat 
of  mail  under  the  outer  garments  of  Abdallah,  and 
told  him  to  put  it  off,  as  unsuited  to  a  martyr  pre- 
pared to  die.  "  I  have  worn  it,"  replied  he, 
"  that  I  might  be  the  better  able  to  defend  thee, 
my  mother."  He  added  that  he  had  little  fear  of 
death,  but  a  horror  of  the  insults  and  exposures 
to  which  his  body  might  be  subjected  after  death. 

' '  A  sheep  once  killed,  my  son,  feels  not  the  flay- 
ing." With  these  words  she  gave  him,  to  rouse 
his  spirits,  a  cordial  draught  in  which  was  a 
strong  infusion  of  musk,  and  Abdallah  went  forth 
a  self-devoted  martyr. 

This  last  sally  of  the  veteran  Caliph  struck  ter- 
ror and  astonishment  into  the  enemy.  At  the 
head  of  a  handful  of  troops  he  repulsed  them  from 
the  breach,  drove  them  into  the  ditch,  and  slew 
an  incredible  number  with  his  own  hand  ;  others, 
however,  thronged  up  in  their  place  ;  he  fought 
until  his  followers  were  slain,  his  arrows  ex- 
pended, and  he  had  no  weapon  but  sword  and 
lance.  He  now  retreated,  step  by  step,  with  his 
face  to  the  foe,  disputing  every  inch  of  ground, 
until  he  arrived  in  a  narrow  place  where  he  could 
only  be  assailed  in  front.  Here  he  made  his  last 
stand.  His  opponents,  no£  daring  to  come  within 
reach  of  his  weapons,  assailed  him  from  a  dis- 
tance with  darts  and  arrows,  and  when  these 
missiles  were  expended,  with  bricks  and  tiles  and 
stones.  A  blow  on  the  head  from  a  stone  made 
him  totter,  and  the  blood  streamed  down  his  face 
and  beard.  His  assailants  gave  a  shout  ;  but 
he  recovered  himself  and  uttered  a  verse  of  a 
poet,  "  The  blood  of  our  wounds  falls  on  our  in- 
step, not  on  our  heels,"  implying  that  he  had  not 
turned  his  back  upon  the  foe.  At  length  he  sank 
under  repeated  wounds  and  bruises,  and  the  enemy 
closing  upon  him  cut  off  his  head.  Thus  died 
Abdallah  the  son  of  Zobeir,  in  the  seventy-third 
year  of  the  Hegira,  and  the  seventy-second  year 
of  his  own  age,  after  a  stormy  and  disastrous  reign 
of  nine  years. 

Taric  Ibn  Amar,  struck  with  admiration  of  his 
persevering  valor,  exclaimed,  "  Never  did  woman 
bear  a  braver  son  !"  "  How  is  this,"  cried  Al 
Hejagi  ;  "  do  you  speak  thus  of  an  enemy  of  the 
Commander  of  the  Faithful  ?"  But  Abd'almalec, 
when  the  speech  was  reported  to  him,  concurred  in 
the  praise  of  his  fallen  rival.  "  By  Allah  !"  ex- 
claimed he,  "  what  Taric  hath  spoken  is  the  truth." 
When  the  tidings  of  Abdallah's  death  were 
brought  to  his  aged  mother,  she  experienced  a 
revulsion  of  nature  which  she  had  not  known  for  j 
fifty  years,  and  died  of  hemorrhage. 

Abdallah  was  said  to  unite  the  courage  of  the 
lion  with  the  craftiness  of  the  fox.  He  was  free 


from  any  glaring  vice,  but  reputed  to  be  sordidly 
covetous  and  miserly,  insomuch  that  he  wore  the 
same  garment  for  several  years.  It  was  a  saying 
in  Arabia  that  he  was  the  first  example  of  a  man 
being  at  the  same  time  brave  and  covetous  ;  but 
the  spoils  of  foreign  conquest  were  fast  corrupting 
the  chivalrous  spirit  of  the  Arab  conquerors.  He 
was  equally  renowned  for  piety,  being  according 
to  tradition  so  fixed  and  immovable  in  prayer  that 
a  pigeon  once  perched  upon  his  head  mistaking 
him  for  a  statue. 

With  the  death  of  Abdallah  ended  the  rival  Ca- 
liphat,  and  the  conquering  general  received  the 
oaths  of  allegiance  of  the  Arabs  for  Abd'almalec. 
His  conduct,  however,  toward  the  people  of  Mecca 
and  Medina  was  as  cruel  and  oppressive  as  his 
military  operations  had  been  brilliant.  He  inflict- 
ed severe  punishments  for  trivial  offences,  some- 
times on  mere  suspicion  ;  and  marked  many  with 
stamps  of  lead  upon  the  neck,  to  disgrace  them  in 
the  public  eye.  His  most  popular  act  was  the  re- 
construction of  the  dilapidated  Caaba  on  the  orig- 
inal form  which  it  had  borne  before  the  era  of  the 
prophet. 

For  a  time  the  people  of  Mecca  and  Medina 
groaned  under  his  tyranny,  and  looked  back  with 
repining  to  the  gentler  sway  of  Abdallah  ;  and  it 
was  a  cause  of  general  joy  throughout  those  cities 
when  the  following  circumstances  caused  him  to 
be  removed  from  their  government  and  promoted 
to  a  distant  command. 

Though  the  death  of  Abdallah  had  rendered 
Abd'almalec,  sole  sovereign  of  the  Moslem  em- 
pire, the  emirof  Khorassan,  Abdallah  Ibn  Hazem, 
who  had  been  appointed  by  his  rival,  hesitated  to 
give  in  his  allegiance.  His  province,  so  distant 
and  great  in  extent,  might  make  him  a  dangerous 
rebel  ;  Abd'almAlec,  therefore,  sent  a  messenger, 
claiming  his  oath  of  fealty,  and  proffering  him  in 
reward  the  government  of  Khorassan  for  seven 
years,  with  the  enjoyment  of  all  its  revenues  ;  at 
the  same  time  he  sent  him  the  head  of  the  de- 
ceased Caliph,  to  intimate  the  fate  he  might  ex- 
pect should  he  prove  refractory. 

The  emir,  instead  of  being  intimidated,  was  fill- 
ed with  horror,  and  swore  never  to  acknowledge 
Abd'almalec  as  Commander  of  the  Faithful.  He 
reverently  washed  and  embalmed  the  head,  folded 
it  in  fine  linen,  prayed  over  it,  and  sent  it  to  the 
family  of  the  deceased  Caliph  at  Medina.  Then 
summoning  the  messenger,  he  made  him  eat  the 
epistle  of  Abd'almalec  in  his  presence,  and  dis- 
missed him  with  the  assurance  that  his  sacred 
character  of  herald  alone  saved  his  head. 

It  was  to  go  against  this  refractory  but  high- 
minded  emir  that  Al  Hejagi  was  called  off  from 
his  command  in  Arabia.  He  entered  Khorassan 
with  a  powerful  army,  defeated  the  emir  in  re- 
peated battles,  and  at  length  slew  him  and  reduced 
the  province  to  obedience. 

The  vigor,  activity,  and  indomitable  courage 
displayed  by  Al  Hejagi  in  these  various  services 
pointed  him  out  as  the  very  man  to  take  charge  of 
the  government  of  Babylonia,  or  Irak,  recently 
vacated  by  the  death  of  the  Caliph's  brother  Be- 
sher  ;  and  he  was  accordingly  sent  to  break  that 
refractory  province  into  more  thorough  obedience. 

The  province  of  Babylonia,  though  formerly  a 
part  of  the  Persian  empire,  had  never  been  really 
Persian  in  character.  Governed  by  viceroys,  it 
had  partaken  of  the  alien  feeling  of  a  colony  ; 
forming  a  frontier  between  Persia  and  Arabia, 
and  its  population  made  up  from  both  countries, 
it  was  deficient  in  the  virtues  of  either.  The  in- 
habitants had  neither  the  simplicity  and  loyalty  of 


168 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


the  Arabs  of  the  desert,  nor  the  refinement  and 
cultivation  of  the  Persians  of  the  cities.  Rest- 
less, turbulent,  factious,  they  were  ever  ready  to 
conspire  against  their  rulers,  to  desert  old  faiths, 
and  to  adopt  new  sects  and  heresies.  Before  the 
conquest  by  the  Moslems,  when  Irak  was  govern- 
ed by  a  Persian  satrap,  and  Syria  by  an  imperial 
prefect,  a  spirit  of  rivalry  and  hostility  existed  be- 
tween these  frontier  provinces  ;  the  same  had  re- 
vived during  the  division  of  the  Caliphat  ;  and 
while  Syria  was  zealous  in  its  devotion  to  the 
house  of  Orhmiah,  Irak  had  espoused  the  cause  of 
Ali.  Even  since  the  reunion  and  integrity  of  the 
Caliphat,  it  still  remained  a  restless,  unsteady 
part  of  the  Moslem  empire  ;  the  embers  ot  old  se- 
ditions still  lurked  in  its  bosom,  ready  at  any  mo- 
ment once  more  to  burst  forth  into  flame.  We 
shall  see  how  Al  Hejagi  fared  in  his  government 
of  that  most  combustible  province. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

ADMINISTRATION  OF  AL  HEJAGI   AS   EMIR   OF 
BABYLONIA. 

AL  HEJAGI,  aware  of  the  nature  of  the  people 
over  whom  he  was  to  rule,  took  possession  of  his 
government  in  military  style.  Riding  into  Cufa 
at  the  head  of  four  thousand  horse,  he  spurred  on 
to  the  mosque,  alighted  at  the  portal,  and  ascend- 
ing the  pulpit  delivered  an  harangue  to  the  mul- 
titude, that  let  them  know  the  rigorous  rule  they 
were  to  expect.  He  had  come,  he  said,  "to 
make  the  wicked  man  bear  his  own  burden,  and 
wear  his  own  shoe  ;"  and,  as  he  looked  round  on 
the  densly-crowded  assemblage,  he  intimated  he 
saw  before  him  turbaned  heads  ripe  for  mowing, 
and  beards  which  required  to  be  moistened  with 
blood. 

His  sermon  was  carried  out  in  practice  ;  he 
ruled  with  a  rigorous  hand,  swearing  he  would 
execute  justice  in  a  style  that  should  put  to  shame 
all  who  had  preceded,  and  serve  as  an  example 
to  all  who  might  follow  him.  He  was  especially 
severe,  and  even  cruel,  toward  all  who  had  been 
in  any  way  implicated  in  the  assassination  of  the 
Caliph  Othman.  One  person,  against  whom  he 
came  prepared  to  exercise  the  utmost  severity, 
was  the  veteran  Musa  Ibn  Nosseyr,  who  had  offi- 
ciated as  prime  minister  to  the  deceased  emir 
Basher.  He  had  been  accused  of  appropriating 
and  squandering  the  taxes  collected  in  the  prov- 
ince, and  the  Caliph  had  lent  a  too  ready  ear  to 
the  accusation.  Fortunately,  the  following  letter, 
from  a  friend  in  Damascus,  apprised  Musa  in  time 
of  his  danger  : 

"  Thy  deposition  is  signed  ;  orders  have  been 
dispatched  to  Al  Hejagi  to  seize  on  thy  person 
and  inflict  on  thee  the  most  severe  punishment  ; 
so  away  !  away  !  thy  safety  depends  on  the  fleet- 
ness  of  thy  horse.  It  thou  succeed  in  placing  thy- 
self under  the  protection  of  Abd'alaziz  Ibn  Mer- 
wan,  all  will  go  well  with  thee." 

Musa  lost  no  time,  but  mounted  his  steed  and 
fled  to  Damascus,  where  Abd'alaziz  was  then  so- 
journing, having  arrived  with  the  tribute  of 
Egypt.  Abd'alaziz  received  with  protecting  kind- 
ness the  veteran  adherent  of  the  family,  and  ac- 
companied him  before  the  Caliph.  "  How  darest 
thou  show  thy  beard  here  ?"  exclaimed  Abd'al- 
malec. "  Why  should  I  hide  .it  ?"  replied  the 
veteran  ;  "  what  have  I  done  to  offend  the  Com- 


mander of  the  Faithful  ?"  "  Thou  hast  disobey- 
ed my  orders,  and  squandered  my  treasures." 
"  I  did  no  such  thing,"  replied  Musa,  firmly  ;  "  I 
have  always  acted  like  a  faithful  subject  ;  my  in- 
tentions have  been  pure  ;  my  actions  true." 
"  By  Allah,"  cried  the  Caliph,  "  thou  shalt  make 
thy  defalcation  good  fifty  times  over."  The  vet- 
eran was  about  to  make  an  angry  reply,  but  at  a 
sign  from  Abd'alaziz  he  checked  himself,  and 
bowing  his  head,  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  said  he, 
"  oh  Commander  of  the  Faithful."  He  was  fined 
fifty  thousand  dinars  of  gold  ;  which,  however, 
Abd'alaziz  enabled  him  to  pay  ;  and,  on  his  re- 
turn to  his  government  in  Egypt,  took  his  old  fa- 
vorite with  him.  How  he  further  indemnified 
Musa  for  his  maltreatment  will  be  shown  here- 
after. 

To  resume  the  affairs  of  Al  Hejagi  in  Irak. 
Having  exercised  the  rod  of  government  in  Cufa, 
he  proceeded  to  Bassora,  where  he  was  equally 
sharp  with  his  tongue  and  heavy  with  his  hand. 
The  consequence  was,  as  usual,  an  insurrection. 
This  suited  his  humor.  He  was  promptly  in  the 
field  ;  defeated  the  rebels  in  a  pitched  battle  ;  sent 
the  heads  of  eighteen  of  their  leaders  to  the  Ca- 
liph, and  then  returned  to  the  administration  of 
affairs  at  Bassora.  He  afterward  sent  two  of  his 
lieutenants  to  suppress  a  new  movement  among 
the  Azarakite  sectaries,  who  were  defeated  and 
driven  out  of  the  province. 

In  the  76th  year  of  the  Heigra  a  conspiracy 
was  formed  against  the  life  of  Abd'almalec,  by  two 
Karigite  fanatics,  named  Shebib  Ibn  Zeicl  and 
Saleh  Ibn  Mari.  Their  conspiracy  was  discover- 
ed and  defeated,  but  they  made  their  escape  and 
repaired  to  the  town  of  Daras,  in  Mesopotamia, 
where  they  managed  to  get  together  adherents  to 
the  number  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  men. 
Saleh  was  smooth-tongued  and  seductive,  having 
a  melodious  voice  and  a  great  command  of  figu- 
rative language.  He  completely  fascinated  and 
bewildered  his  companion  Shebib,  and  their  in- 
fatuated followers,  mingling  his  inflammatory 
harangues  with  pious  precepts  and  expositions  of 
the  Koran.  In  the  end  he  was  hailed  Commander 
of  the  Faithful  by  the'  motley  crew,  and  gravely 
accepted  the  office.  His  men  were  all  armed, 
but  most  of  them  were  on  foot  ;  he  therefore  led 
them  to  a  neighboring  village,  where  they  seized 
upon  the  best  horses  in  the  name  of  Allah  and  the 
prophet,  to  whom  they  referred  the  owners  for 
payment. 

Mahomet,  brother  of  Abd'almalec,  who  was  at 
that  time  emir  of  Mesopotamia,  was  moved  to 
laughter  when  he  heard  of  this  new  Caliph  and 
his  handful  of  rabble  followers,  and  ordered  Adi. 
one  of  his  officers,  to  take  five  hundred  men  and 
sweep  them  from  the  province. 

Adi  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  "  One  mad- 
man," said  he,  "  is  more  dangerous  than  five  sol- 
diers in  their  senses." 

"  Take  one  thousand  then, "  said  the  emir  ;  and 
with  that  number,  well  armed  and  mounted,  Adi 
set  out  in  quest  of  the  fanatics.  He  found  them 
and  their  pseudo  Caliph  living  in  free  quarters  on 
the  fat  of  the  land,  and  daily  receiving  recruits  in 
straggling  parties  ol  two,  and  three,  and  four  at  a 
time,  armed  with  such  weapons  as  they  could 
catch  up  in  their  haste.  On  the  approach  of  Adi 
they  prepared  for  battle,  having  full  confidence 
that  a  legion  of  angels  would  fight  on  their  side. 

Adi  held  a  parley,  and  endeavored  to  convince 
them  of  the  absurdity  of  their  proceedings,  or  to 
persuade  them  to  carry  their  marauding  enter- 
prises elsewhere  ;  but  Saleh,  assuming  the  tone  ot 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


169 


Caliph  as  well  as  sectarian,  admonished  Adi  and 
his  men  to  conform  to  his  doctrines,  and  come 
into  his  allegiance.  The  conlerence  ended  while 
it  was  yet  the  morning  hour.  Adi  still  forbore 
to  attack  such  a  handful  of  misguided  men,  and 
paid  dearly  for  his  forbearance.  At  noontide, 
when  he  and  his  men  were  engaged  in  the  cus- 
tomary prayer,  and  their  steeds  were  feeding, 
the  enthusiast  band  charged  suddenly  upon  them 
with  the  cry  of  Allah  Achbar  !  Adi  was  slain  in 
the  onset,  and  his  body  was  trampled  under  foot  ; 
his  troops  were  slaughtered  or  dispersed,  and  his 
camp  and  horses,  with  a  good  supply  of  arms,  be- 
came welcome  booty  to  the  victors. 

The  band  of  sectarians  increased  in  numbers 
and  in  daring  after  this  signal  exploit.  Al  He- 
jagi  sent  five  thousand  veteran  troops  against 
them,  under  Al  Hareth  Alamdani.  These  came 
by  surprise  upon  the  two  leaders,  Saleh  and  She- 
bib,  with  a  party  of  only  ninety  men,  at  a  village 
on  the  Tigris  not  far  from  Mosul,  the  capital  of 
Mesopotamia.  The  fanatic  chiefs  attacked  the 
army  with  a  kind  of  frantic  courage,  but  Saleh, 
the  mock  Caliph,  was  instantly  killed,  with  a 
score  of  his  followers.  Shebib  was  struck  from 
his  horse,  but  managed  to  keep  together  the  rem- 
nant of  his  party  ;  made  good  his  retreat  with 
them  into  Montbagi,  a  dismantled  fortress,  and 
swung  to  and  secured  the  ponderous  gate. 

The  victors  kindled  a  great  fire  against  the 
gate,  and  waited  patiently  until  it  should  burn 
down,  considering  their  prey  secure. 

As  the  night  advanced,  Shebib,  who  from  his 
desolate  retreat  watched  anxiously  for  some 
chance  of  escape,  perceived,  by  the  light  of  the 
tire,  that  the  greater  part  of  the  besiegers,  fa- 
tigued by  their  march,  were  buried  in  deep  sleep. 
He  now  exacted  from  his  men  an  oath  of  implicit 
obedience,  which  they  took  between  his  hands. 
He  then  caused  them  to  steep  most  of  their  cloth- 
ing in  a  tank  of  water  within  the  castle,  alter 
which,  softly  drawing  the  bolts  of  the  flaming 
gate,  they  threw  it  down  on  the  fire  kindled 
against  it  ;  flung  their  wet  garments  on  the  burn- 
ing bridge  thus  suddenly  formed,  and  rushed 
forth  scimetar  in  hand. 

Instead  of  contenting  themselves  with  an  es- 
cape, the  crazy  zealots  charged  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  sleeping  camp  and  wounded  the  gen- 
eral before  an  alarm  was  given.  The  soldiers 
started  awake  in  the  midst  of  havoc  and  confu- 
sion ;  supposing  themselves  surprised  by  a  nu- 
merous army,  they  fled  in  all  directions,  never 
ceasing  their  flight  until  they  had  taken  refuge  in 
Mosul  or  Jukhi,  or  some  other  walled  city. 

Shebib  established  himself  amid  the  abundance 
of  the  deserted  camp  ;  scarce  any  of  his  men 
had  been  killed  or  wounded  in  this  midnight 
slaughter  ;  he  considered  himself  therefore  invin- 
cible ;  proclaimed  himself  Commander  of  the 
Faithful,  and  partisans  crowded  to  his  standard. 
Strengthened  by  numbers,  he  led  his  fanatic  horde 
against  Cufa,  and  had  the  address  and  good  for- 
tune to  make  himself  master  of  it,  Al  Hejagi,  the 
emir,  being  absent  at  Bassora.  He  was  soon 
joined  by  his  wife  Gazala  ;  established  himself  as 
Caliph  with  some  ceremonial,  and  doubtless  his 
vagabond  sway  was  more  acceptable  to  the  peo- 
ple ot  Cufa  than  the  iron  rule  of  Al  Hejagi. 

The  mock  Caliphat,  however,  was  of  brief  dura- 
tion. Al  Hejagi,  reinforced  by  troops  from  Syria, 
marched  in  person  against  Cufa.  He  was  boldly 
met  in  the  plains  near  that  city  by  Shebib,  at  the 
head  ot  lour  thousand  men.  The  fanatics  were 
defeated,  and  Gazala,  the  wife  of  the  mock  Ca- 


liph, who  had  accompanied  her  husband  to  the 
field,  was  slain.  Shebib  with  a  remnant  of  his 
force  cut  his  way  through  the  Syrian  army,  crossed 
and  recrossed  the  Tigris,  and  sought  refuge  and 
reinforcements  in  the  interior  ot  Persia.  He  soon 
returned  into  Irak,  with  a  force  inconsiderable  in 
numbers,  but  formidable  for  enthusiasm  and  des- 
perate valor.  He  was  encountered  at  the  bridge 
ot  Dojail  al  Awaz.  Here  a  sudden  and  unexpect- 
ed end  was  put  to  his  fanatic  career.  His  horse 
struck  his  fore  feet  on  some  loose  stones  on  the 
margin  of  the  bridge,  and  threw  his  rider  into  the 
stream.  He  rose  twice  to  the  surface,  and  each 
time  uttered  a  pious  ejaculation.  "  What  God 
decrees  is  just  !"  was  the  first  exclamation. 
"  The  will  of  God  be  done  !"  was  the  second,  and 
the  waters  closed  over  him.  His  followers  cried 
with  loud  lamentations,  "  The  Commander  of  the 
Faithful  is  no  more  !"  and  every  man  betook  him- 
self to  flight.  The  water  was  dragged  with  a  net, 
the  body  was  found  and  decapitated,  and  the 
head  sent  to  Al  Hejagi,  who  transmitted  it  to  the 
Caliph.  The  heart  oi  this  enthusiast  was  also 
taken  out  of  his  breast,  and  is  said  to  have  been 
as  hard  as  stone.  He  was  assuredly  a  man  of  ex- 
traordinary daring. 

Arabian  writers  say  that  the  manner  of  Shebib's 
death  was  predicted  before  his  birth.  His  mother 
was  a  beautiful  Christian  captive,  purchased  at  a 
public  sale  by  Yezid  Ibn  Nairn  for  his  harem. 
Just  before  she  gave  birth  to  "Shebib,  she  had  a 
dream  that  a  coal  ot  fire  proceeded  from  her,  and, 
alter  enkindling  a  flame  over  the  firmament,  fell 
into  the  sea  and  was  extinguished.  This  dream 
was  interpreted  that  she  would  give  birth  to  a 
man-child,  who  would  prove  a  distinguished  war- 
rior, but  would  eventually  be  drowned.  So  strong 
was  her  belief  in  this  omen,  that  when  she  heard, 
on  one  occasion,  of  his  defeat  and  ot  his  alleged 
death  on  the  battle-field,  she  treated  the  tidings  as 
an  ide  rumor,  saying  it  was  by  water  only  her  son 
would  die.  At  the  time  of  Shebib's  death  he  had 
just  passed  his  fiftieth  year. 

The  emir  Al  Hejagi  was  destined  to  have  still 
farther  commotions  in  his  turbulent  and  incon- 
stant province.  A  violent  feud  existed  between 
him  and  Abda'lrahman  Ibn  Mohammed,  a  gener- 
al subject  to  his  orders.  To  put  an  end  to  it,  or 
to  relieve  himself  from  the  presence  of  an  enemy, 
he  sent  him  on  an  expedition  to  the  frontiers 
against  the  Turks.  Abda'lrahman  set  out  on  his 
march,  but  when  fairly  in  the  field,  with  a  force 
at  his  command,  conceived  a  project  either  of  re- 
venge or  ambition. 

Addressing  his  soldiers  in  a  spirited  harangue, 
he  told  them  that  their  numbers  were  totally  inad- 
equate to  the  enterprise  ;  that  the  object  of  Al 
Hejagi  in  sending  him  on  such  a  dangerous  ser- 
vice with  such  incompetent  means  was  to  effect 
his  defeat  and  ruin,  and  that  they  had  been  sent 
to  be  sacrificed  with  him. 

The  harangue  produced  the  desired  effect.  The 
troops  vowed  devotion  to  Abda'lrahman  and  ven- 
geance upon  the  emir.  Without  giving  their  pas- 
sion time  to  cool,  he  led  them  back  to  put  their 
threats  in  execution.  Al  Hejagi  heard  of  the 
treason,  and  took  the  field  to  meet  them,  but 
probably  was  not  well  seconded  by  the  people  of 
Babylonia,  for  he  was  defeated  in  a  pitched  bat- 
tle. Abda'lrahman  then  marched  to  the  city  of 
Bassora  ;  the  inhabitants  welcomed  him  as  their 
deliverer  from  a  tyrant,  and,  captivated  by  his 
humane  and  engaging  manners,  hailed  him  as 
Caliph.  Intoxicated  by  his  success,  he  gravely 
assumed  the  title,  and  proceeded  toward  Cufa. 


170 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Encountering  Al  Hejagi  on  the  way,  with  a  hastily 
levied  army,  he  gave  him  another  signal  defeat, 
and  then  entered  Cufa  in  triumph,  amid  the  shouts 
of  its  giddy  populace,  who  were  delighted  with 
any  change  that  released  them  from  the  yoke  of 
Al  Hejagi. 

Abda'lrahman  was  now  acknowledged  Caliph 
throughout  the  territories  bordering  on  the 
Euphrates  and  the  Tigris,  a  mighty  empire  in 
ancient  days,  and  still  important  from  its  popula- 
tion, for  he  soon  had  on  foot  an  army  of  one  hun- 
dred thousand  men. 

Repeated  defeat  had  but  served  to  rouse  the 
energy  of  Al  Hejagi.  He  raised  troops  among 
such  of  the  people  of  Irak  as  remained  faithful  to 
Abd'almalec,  received  reinforcements  from  the 
Caliph,  and  by  dint  of  indefatigable  exertions  was 
again  enabled  to  take  the  field. 

The  two  generals,  animated  by  deadly  hate,  en- 
camped their  armies  at  places  not  far  apart.  Here 
they  remained  between  three  and  four  months, 
keeping  vigilant  eye  upon  each  other,  and  engaged 
in  incessant  conrlicts,  though  never  venturing 
upon  a  pitched  battle. 

The  object  of  Al  Hejagi  was  to  gain  an  ad- 
vantage by  his  superior  military  skill,  and  he  suc- 
ceeded. By  an  artful  manoeuvre  he  cut  off  Ab- 
da'lrahman, with  a  body  of  five  thousand  men, 
from  his  main  army,  compelled  him  to  retreat, 
and  drove  him  to  take  refuge  in  a  fortified  town, 
where,  being  closely  besieged,  and  having  no 
hope  of  escape,  he  threw  himself  headlong  from 
a  lofty  tower,  rather  than  fall  into  the  hands  of 
his  cruel  enemy. 

Thus  terminated  the  rebellion  of  this  second 
mock  Caliph,  and  Al  Hejagi,  to  secure  the  tran- 
quillity of  Irak,  founded  a  strong  city  on  the  Ti- 
gris, called  Al  Wazab,  or  the  Centre,  from  its  lying 
at  equal  distance  from  Cufa,  Bassora,  Bagdad, 
and  Ahwaz,  about  fifty  leagues  from  each. 

Al  Hejagi,  whom  we  shall  have  no  further  oc- 
casion to  mention,  continued  emir  of  Irak  until 
his  death,  which  took  place  under  the  reign  of  the 
next  Caliph,  in  the  ninety-fifth  year  of  the  Hegira, 
and  the  fifty-fourth  of  his  own  age.  He  is  said  to 
have  caused  the  death  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  persons,  independent  of  those  who  fell 
in  battle,  and  that,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  he 
left  fifty  thousand  confined  in  different  prisons. 
Can  we  wonder  that  he  was  detested  as  a  tyrant  ? 

In  his  last  illness,  say  the  Arabian  historians, 
he  sent  for  a  noted  astrologer,  and  askecl  him 
whether  any  great  general  was  about  to  end  his 
days.  The  learned  man  consulted  the  stars,  and 
replied,  that  a  great  captain  named  Kotaib,  or 
"  The  Dog,"  was  at  the  point  of  death. 
"  That,"  said  the  dying  emir,  "  is  the  name  my 
mother  used  to  call  me  when  a  child."  He  in- 
quired of  the  astrologer  if  he  was  assured  of  his 
prediction.  The  sage,  proud  of  his  art,  declared 
that  it  was  infallible.  "  Then,"  said  the  emir,  "  I 
will  take  you  with  me,  that  I  may  have  the  benefit 
of  your  skill  in  the  other  world."  So  saying,  he 
caused  his  head  to  be  struck  off. 

The  tyranny  of  this  general  was  relieved  at 
times  by  displays  of  great  magnificence  and  acts 
of  generosity,  if  not  clemency.  He  spread  a 
thousand  tables  at  a  single  banquet,  and  bestowed 
a  million  dirhems  of  silver  at  a  single  donation. 

On  one  occasion,  an  Arab,  ignorant  of  his  per- 
son, spoke  of  him,  in  his  presence,  as  a  cruel 
tyrant.  "  Do  you  know  me  ?"  said  Al  Hejagi, 
sternly.  "  I  do  not,"  replied  the  Arab.  "lam 
Al  Hejagi  !"  "  That  may  be,"  replied  the  Arab, 
quickly  :  "  but  do  you  know  me  ?  I  am  of  the 


family  of  Zobeir,  who  are  fools  in  the  full  of  the 
moon  ;  and  if  you  look  upon  the  heavens  you  will 
see  that  this  is  my  day."  The  emir  laughed  at 
his  ready  wit,  and  dismissed  him  with  a  present. 

On  another  occasion,  when  separated  trom  his 
party  while  hunting,  he  came  to  a  spring  where 
an  Arab  was  feeding  his  camels,  and  demanded 
drink.  The  Arab  bade  him,  rudely,  to  alight  and 
help  himself.  It  was  during  the  rebellion  of  Ab- 
da'lrahman. After  he  had  slaked  his  thirst  he 
demanded  of  the  Arab  whether  he  was  for  the 
Caliph  Abd'almalec.  The  Arab  replied  "  No  ;  for 
the  Caliph  had  sent  the  worst  man  in  the  world  to 
govern  the  province."  Just  then  a  bird,  passing 
overhead,  uttered  a  croaking  note.  The  Arab 
turned  a  quick  eye  upon  the  emir.  "  Who  art 
thou  ?"  cried  he,  with  consternation.  "  Where- 
fore the  question  ?"  "  Because  I  understand  the 
language  of  birds,  and  he  says  that  thou  art  chief 
of  yon  horsemen  that  I  see  approaching." 

The  emir  smiled,  and  when  his  attendants  came 
up,  bade  them  to  bring  the  camel-driver  with 
them.  On  the  next  day  he  sent  for  him,  had 
meat  set  before  him,  and  bade  him  eat.  Before  he 
complied,  the  Arab  uttered  a  grace,  "  Allah  grant 
that  the  end  of  this  meal  may  be  as  happy  as  the 
beginning." 

"  The  emir  inquired  if  he  recollected  their  con- 
versation of  yesterday.  "  Perfectly  !  but  I  entreat 
thee  to  forget  it,  for  it  was  a  secret  which  should 
be  buried  in  oblivion." 

"  Here  are  two  conditions  for  thy  choice,"  said 
the  emir  ;  "  recant  what  thou  hast  said  and  enter 
into  my  service,  or  abide  the  decision  of  the  Ca- 
liph, to  whom  thy  treasonable  speech  shall  be  re- 
peated." "  There  is  a  third  course,"  replied  the 
Arab,  "  which  is  better  than  either.  Send  me  to 
my  own  home,  and  let  us  be  strangers  to  each 
other  as  heretofore." 

The  emir  was  amused  by  the  spirit  of  the  Arab, 
and  dismissed  him  with  a  thousand  dirhems  of 
silver. 

There  were  no  further  troubles  in  Irak  during 
the  lifetime  of  Al  Hejagi,  and  even  the  fickle,  tur- 
bulent, and  faithless  people  of  Cufa  became  sub- 
missive and  obedient.  Abulfaragiussays  that  this 
general  died  of  eating  dirt.  It  appears  that  he  was 
subject  to  dyspepsia  or  indigestion,  for  which  he 
used  to  eat  Terra  Lemnia  and  other  medicinal  or 
absorbent  earths.  Whether  he  fell  a  victim  to  the 
malady  or  the  medicine  is  not  clearly  manifest. 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

RENUNCIATION  OF  TRIBUTE  TO  THE  EMPEROR 
— BATTLES  IN  NORTHERN  AFRICA— THE  PROPH- 
ET QUEEN  CAHINA  ;  HER  ACHIEVEMENTS  AND 
FATE. 

THE  seventy-second  year  of  the  Hegira  saw  the 
Moslem  dominions  at  length  free  from  rebellion 
and  civil  war,  and  united  under  one  Caliph. 
Abd'almalec  now  looked  abroad,  and  was  anxious 
to  revive  the  foreign  glories  of  Islam,  which  had 
declined  during  the  late  vicissitudes.  His  first 
movement  was  to  throw  off  the  galling  tribute  to 
the  Greek  emperor.  This,  under  Moawyah  I.,  had 
originally  been  three  thousand  dinars  ot  gold,  but 
had  been  augmented  co  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  thousand,  being  one  thousand  for  every  day 
in  the  Christian  year.  It  was  accompanied  by 
three  hundred  and  sixty-five  female  slaves,  and 


MAHOMET  AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


171 


three  hundred  and  sixty-five  Arabian  horses  of  the 
most  generous  race. 

Not  content  with  renouncing1  the  payment  of 
tribute,  Abd'almalec  sent  Alid,  one  of  his  gener- 
als, on  a  ravaging  expedition  into  the  imperial 
dominions,  availing  himself  of  a  disaffection 
evinced  to  the  new  emperor  Leontius.  Alid  re- 
turned laden  with  spoils.  The  cities  of  Lazuca 
and  Baruncium  were  likewise  delivered  up  to 
the  Moslems  through  the  treachery  of  Sergius,  a 
Christian  general. 

Abd'almalec  next  sought  to  vindicate  the  glory 
of  the  Moslem  arms  along  the  northern  coast  of 
Africa.  There,  also,  the  imperialists  had  taken 
advantage  of  the  troubles  of  the  Caliphat,  to  re- 
verse the  former  successes  of  the  Moslems,  and 
to  strengthen  themselves  along  the  sea-coast,  of 
which  their  navy  aided  them  to  hold  possession. 
Zohair,  who  had  been  left  by  Abd'almalec  in 
command  of  Barca,  had  fallen  into  an  ambush 
and  been  slain  with  many  of  his  men,  and  the 
posts  still  held  by  the  Moslems  were  chiefly  in  the 
interior. 

In  the  seventy-seventh  year  of  the  Hegira,  there- 
fore, Abd'almalec  sent  Hossan  Ibn  An-no'man,  at 
the  head  ct  forty  thousa'nd  choice  troops,  to  carry 
out  the  scheme  of  African  conquest.  That  general 
pressed  forward  at  once  with  his  troops  against  the 
city  of  Carthage,  which,  though  declined  from  its 
ancient  might  and  glory,  was  still  an  important 
seaport,  fortified  with  lofty  walls,  haughty  towers, 
and  powerful  bulwarks,  and  had  a  numerous 
garrison  of  Greeks  and  other  Christians.  Hossan 
proceeded  according  to  the  old  Arab  mode  ;  be- 
leaguering it  and  reducing  it  by  a  long  siege  ;  he 
then  assailed  it  by  storm,  scaled  its  lofty  walls 
with  ladders,  and  made  himself  master  of  the 
place.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  fell  by  the  edge 
of  the  sword  ;  many  escaped  by  sea  to  Sicily  and 
Spain.  The  walls  were  then  demolished,  the 
city  was  given  up  to  be  plundered  by  the  soldiery, 
the  meanest  of  whom  was  enriched  by  booty. 
Particular  mention  is  made  among  the  spoils  of 
victory  of  a  great  number  of  female  captives  of 
rare  beauty. 

The  triumph  of  the  Moslem  host  was  suddenly 
interrupted.  While  they  were  revelling  in  the 
ravaged  palaces  of  Carthage,  a  fleet  appeared  be- 
fore the  port,  snapped  the  strong  chain  which 
guarded  the  entrance,  and  sailed  into  the  harbor. 
It  was  a  combined  force  of  ships  and  troops  from 
Constantinople  and  Sicily,  reinforced  by  Goths 
from  Spain,  all  under  the  command  of  the  prefect 
John,  a  patrician  general  of  great  valor  and  expe- 
rience. 

Hossan  felt  himself  unable  to  cope  with  such  a 
force  ;  he  withdrew,  however,  in  good  order,  and 
conducted  his  troops  laden  with  spoils  to  Tripoli 
and  Caerwan,  and  having  strongly  posted  them, 
he  awaited  reinforcements  from  the  Caliph.  These 
arrived  in  the  course  of  time,  by  sea  and  land. 
Hossan  again  took  the  field,  encountered  the  pre- 
fect John,  not  far  from  Utica,  defeated  him  in  a 
pitched  battle,  and  drove  him  to  embark  the 
wrecks  of  his  army  and  make  all  sail  for  Con- 
stantinople. 

Carthage  was  again  assailed  by  the  victors,  and 
now  its  desolation  was  complete,  for  the  ven- 
geance of  the  Moslems  gave  that  majestic  city  to  the 
flames.  A  heap  of  ruins  and  the  remains  of  a 
noble  aqueduct  are  all  the  relics  of  a  metropolis 
that  once  valiantly  contended  for  dominion  with 
Rome,  the  mistress  of  the  world. 

The  imperial  forces  were  now  expelled  from  the 
coasts  of  Northern  Africa,  but  the  Moslems  had 


not  yet  achieved  the  conquest  of  the  country.  A 
formidable  enemy  remained  in  the  person  of  a 
native  and  heroic  queen,  who  was  revered  by  her 
subjects  as  a  saint  or  prophetess.  Her  real  name 
was  Dhabba,  but  she  is  generally  known  in  his- 
tory by  the  surname,  given  to  her  by  the  Moslems, 
of  Cahina  or  the  Sorceress.  She  has  occasionally 
been  confounded  with  her  son  Aben,  or  rather  Ibn 
Cahina,  of  whom  mention  has  been  made  in  a 
previous  chapter. 

Under  the  sacred  standard  of  this  prophet  queen 
were  combined  the  Moors  of  Mauritania  and  the 
Berbers  of  the  mountains,  and  of  the  plains  bor- 
dering on  the  interior  deserts.  Roving  and  inde- 
pendent tribes,  which  had  formerly  warred  with 
each  other,  now  yielded  implicit  obedience  to  one 
common  leader,  whom  they  regarded  with  relig- 
ious, reverence.  The  character  of  marabout  or 
saint  has  ever  had  vast  influence  over  the  tribes 
of  Africa.  Under  this  heroic  woman  the  com- 
bined host  had  been  reduced  to  some  degree  of 
discipline,  and  inspired  with  patriotic  ardor,  and 
were  now  prepared  to  make  a  more  effective 
struggle  for  their  native  land  than  they  had  yet 
done  under  their  generals. 

After  repeated  battles,  the  emir  Hossan  was 
compelled  to  retire  with  his  veteran  but  di- 
minished army  to  the  frontiers  of  Egypt.  The 
patriot  queen  was  not  satisfied  with  this  partial 
success.  Calling  a  council  of  war  of  the  leaders 
and  principal  warriors  of  the  different  hordes  : 
"  This  retreat  of  the  enemy,"  said  she,  "  is  but 
temporary  ;  they  will  return  in  greater  force. 
What  is  it  that  attracts  to  our  land  these  Arab 
spoilers  ?  The  wealth  of  our  cities,  the  treasures 
of  silver  and  gold  digged  from  the  bowels  of  the 
earth,  the  fruits  of  our  gardens  and  orchards,  the 
produce  of  our  fields.  Let  us  demolish  our  cities, 
return  these  accursed  treasures  into  the  earth, 
fell  our  fruit  trees,  lay  waste  our  fields,  and 
spread  a  barrier  of  desolation  between  us  and  the 
country  of  these  robbers  !" 

The  words  of  the  royal  prophetess  were  received 
with  fanatic  enthusiasm  by  her  barbarian  troops, 
the  greater  part  of  whom,  collected  from  the  moun- 
tains and  from  distant  parts,  had  little  share  in 
the  property  to  be  sacrificed.  Walled  towns  were 
forthwith  dismantled,  majestic  edifices  were 
tumbled  into  ruins,  groves  of  fruit  trees  were 
hewn  down,  and  the  whole  country  from  Tangier 
to  Tripoli  was  converted  from  a  populous  and  fer- 
tile region  into  a  howling  and  barren  waste.  A 
short  time  was  sufficient  to  effect  a  desolation 
which  centuries  have  not  sufficed  to  remedy. 

This  sacrificial  measure  of  Queen  Cahina,  how- 
ever patriotic  its  intention,  was  fatal  in  the  end  to 
herself.  The  inhabitants  of  the  cities  and  the 
plains,  who  had  beheld  their  property  laid  waste 
by  the  infuriated  zeal  of  their  defenders,  hailed  the 
return  of  the  Moslem  invaders  as  though  they  had 
been  the  saviors  of  the  land. 

The  Moslems,  as  Cahina  predicted,  returned 
with  augmented  forces  ;  but  when  she  took  the 
field  to  oppose  them,  the  ranks  of  her  army  were 
thinned  ;  the  enthusiasm  which  had  formerly  ani- 
mated them  was  at  an  end  :  they  were  routed, 
after  a  sanguinary  battle,  and  the  heroine  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Those  who  captured 
her  spared  her  life,  because  she  was  a  woman  and 
a  queen.  When  brought  into  the  presence  of 
Hossan  she  maintained  her  haughty  and  fierce 
demeanor.  He  proposed  the  usual  conditions,  of 
conversion  or  tribute.  She  refused  both  with  scorn, 
and  fell  a  victim  to  her  patriotism  and  religious  con- 
stancy, being  beheaded  in  presence  of  the  emir. 


172 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


Hossan  Ibn  An-no'man  now  repaired  to  Damas- 
cus, to  give  the  Caliph  an  account  of  his  battles 
and  victories,  bearing  an  immense  amount  of 
booty,  and  several  signal  trophies.  The  most  im- 
portant of  the  latter  was  a  precious  box  contain- 
ing the  embalmed  head  of  the  slaughtered  Cahina. 
He  was  received  with  great  distinction,  loaded 
with  honors,  and  the  government  of  Barca  was 
added  to  his  military  command. 

This  last  honor  proved  fatal  to  Hossan.  Abd'- 
alaziz  Ibn  Merwan,  the  Caliph's  brother,  was  at 
that  time  emir  of  Egypt,  and  considered  the  prov- 
ince of  Barca  a  part  of  the  territories  under  his 
government.  He  had,  accordingly,  appointed 
one  of  his  officers  to  command  it  as  his  lieutenant. 
He  was  extremely  displeased  and  disconcerted, 
therefore,  when  he  was  told  that  Hossan  had 
solicited  and  obtained  the  government  of  that 
province.  Sending  for  the  latter,  as  he  passed 
through  Egypt  on  his  way  to  his  post,  he  demand- 
ed whether  it  was  true  that  in  addition  to  his 
African  command  he  was  really  appointed  govern- 
or of  Barca.  Being  answered  in  the  affirmative, 
he  appeared  still  to  doubt ;  whereupon  Hossan 
produced  the  mandate  of  the  Caliph.  Finding  it 
correct,  Abd'alaziz  urged  him  to  resign  the  office. 
"  Violence  only,"  said  Hossan,  "  shall  wrest  from 
me  an  honor  conferred  by  the  Commander  of  the 
Faithful."  "  Then  I  deprive  thee  of  both  govern- 
ments," exclaimed  the  emir,  in  a  passion,  "and 
will  appoint  a  better  man  in  thy  stead  ;  and  my 
brother  will  soon  perceive  the  benefit  he  derives 
from  the  change."  So  saying,  he  tore  the  di- 
ploma in  pieces. 

It  is  added  that,  not  content  with  depriving 
Hossan  of  his  command,  he  despoiled  him  of  all 
his  property,  and  carried  his  persecution  so  far 
that  the  conqueror  of  Carthage,  the  slayer  of  the 
patriot  queen,  within  a  brief  time  after  her  death, 
and  almost  amid  the  very  scenes  of  his  triumphs, 
died  of  a  broken  heart.  His  cruel  treatment  of 
the  heroic  Cahina  reconciles  us  to  the  injustice 
wreaked  upon  himself. 


CHAPTER   LV. 

MUSA  IBN  NOSSEYR  MADE  EMIR  'OF  NORTHERN 
AFRICA — HIS  CAMPAIGNS  AGAINST  THE  BER- 
BERS. 

THE  general  appointed  by  the  Caliph's  brother, 
Abd'alaziz  Ibn  Merwan,  to  the  command  in 
Northern  Africa,  was  Musa  Ibn  Nosseyr,  the 
same  old  adherent  of  the  Merwan  family  that  had 
been  prime  counsellor  of  the  Caliph's  brother 
Besher,  when  emir  of  Irak,  and  had  escaped  by 
dint  of  hoof  from  the  clutches  of  Al  Hejagi,  when 
the  latter  was  about  to  arrest  him  on  a  charge  of 
squandering  the  public  funds.  Abd'alaziz,  it  will 
be  remembered,  assisted  him  to  pay  the  fifty 
thousand  dinars  of  gold,  in  which  he  was  mulcted 
by  the  Caliph,  and  took  him  with  him  to  Egypt  ; 
and  it  may  have  been  with  some  view  to  self-re- 
imbursement that  the  Egyptian  emir  now  took 
the  somewhat  bol.d  step  of  giving  him  the  place 
assigned  to  Hossan  by  Abd'almalec. 

At  the  time  of  his  appointment  Musa  was  sixty 
years  of  age.  He  was  still  active  and  vigorous, 
of  noble  presence,  and  concealed  his  age  by  ting- 
ing his  hair  and  beard  with  henna.  He  had  three 
brave  sons  who  aided  him  in  his  campaigns,  and 
in  whom  he  took  great  pride.  Tfie  eldest  he  had 
named  Abd'alaziz,  after  his  patron  ;  he  was  brave 


and  magnanimous,  in  the  freshness  of  his  youth, 
and  his  father's  right  hand  in  all  his  enterprises. 
Another  of  his  sons  he  had  called  Merwan,  the 
family  name  of  Abd'alaziz  and  the  Caliph. 

Musa  joined  the  army  at  its  African  encamp- 
ment, and  addressed  his  troops  in  frank  and  sim- 
ple language.  "  I  am  a  plain  soldier  like  your- 
selves," said  he  ;  "  whenever  I  act  well,  thank 
God,  and  endeavor  to  imitate  me.  When  I  do 
wrong,  reprove  me,  that  I  may  amend  ;  for  we  are 
all  sinners  and  liable  to  err.  If  any  one  has  at 
any  time  a  complaint  to  make,  let  him  state  it 
frankly,  and  it  shall  be  attended  to.  I  have  or- 
ders from  the  emir  Abd'alaziz  (to  whom  God  be 
bountiful  !)  to  pay  you  three  times  the  amount  of 
your  arrears.  Take  it,  and  make  good  use  ot  it." 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  address,  especially 
the  last  part,  was  received  with  acclamations. 

While  Musa  was  making  his  harangue,  a  spar- 
row fluttered  into  his  bosom.  Interpreting  it  as 
a  good  omen,  he  called  lor  a  knife,  cut  off  the 
bird's  head,  besmeared  the  bosom  of  his  vest 
with  the  blood,  and  scattering  the  feathers  in 
the  air  above  his  head  :  "Victory  !  Victory  !" 
he  cried,  "  by  the  master  of  the  Caaba,  victory  is 
ours  !" 

It  is  evident  that  Musa  understood  the  charac- 
ter and  foibles  of  his  troops  ;  he  soon  won  their 
favor  by  his  munificence,  and  still  more  by  his 
affability  ;  always  accosting  them  with  kind 
words  and  cheerful  looks  ;  carefully  avoiding  the 
error  of  those  reserved  commanders,  shut  up  in 
the  fancied  dignity  of  station,  who  looked,  he 
said,  "  as  if  God  had  tied  a  knot  in  their  throats, 
so  that  they  could  not  utter  a  word." 

"A  commander,"  he  used  to  say,  "ought  to 
consult  wise  and  experienced  men  in  every  under- 
taking ;  but  when  he  has  made  up  his  mind,  he 
should  be  firm  and  steady  of  purpose.  He  should 
be  brave,  adventurous,  at  times  even  rash,  con- 
fiding in  his  good  fortune,  and  endeavoring  to  do 
more  than  is  expected  of  him.  He  should  be 
doubly  cautious  after  victory,  doubly  brave  after 
defeat." 

Musa  found  a  part  of  Eastern  Africa,*  forming 
the  present  states  of  Tunis  and  Algiers,  in  com- 
plete confusion  and  insurrection.  A  Berber  chief, 
Warkattaf  by  name,  scoured  night  and  day  the 
land  between  Zaghwan  and  Caerwan.  The  Ber- 
bers had.  this  advantage  :  if  routed  in  the  plains 
they  took  refuge  in  the  mountains,  which  ran 
parallel  to  the  coast,  forming  part  of  the  great 
chain  of  Atlas  ;  in  the  fastnesses  of  these  moun- 
tains they  felt  themselves  iecure  ;  but  should  they 
be  driven  out  of  these  they  could  plunge  into  the 
boundless  deserts  of  the  interior,  and  bid  defiance 
to  pursuit. 

The  energy  of  Musa  rose  with  the  difficulty  of 
his  enterprise.  "Take  courage,"  would  he  say 
to  his  troops.  "  God  is  on  our  side,  and  will  en- 
able us  to  cope  with  our  enemies,  however  strong 
their  holds.  By  Allah  !  I'll  carry  the  war  into 
yon  haughty  mountains,  nor  cease  until  we  have 
seized  upon  their  passes,  surmounted  their  sum- 
mits, and  made  ourselves  masters  of  the  country 
beyond." 

His  words  were  not  an  empty  threat.  Having 
vanquished  the  Berbers  in  the  plains,  he  sent  his 
sons  Abd'alaziz  and  Merwan  with  troops  in 
different  directions,  who  attacked  the  enemy  in 
their  mountain-holds,  and  drove  them  beyond  to 

*  Northern  Africa,  extending  from  Egypt  to  the 
extremity  of  Mauritania,  was  subdivided  into  Eastern 
and  Western  Africa. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


173 


the  borders  of  the  Southern  desert.  Warkattaf 
was  slain  with  many  of  his  warriors,  and  Musa 
had  the  gratification  of  seeing  his  sons  return  tri- 
umphant from  their  different  expeditions,  bring- 
ing to  the  camp  thousands  of  captives  and  im- 
mense booty.  Indeed  the  number  of  prisoners  of 
both  sexes,  taken  in  these  campaigns,  is  said  to 
have  amounted  to  three  hundred  thousand,  of 
whom  one  fifth,  or  sixty  thousand,  formed  the 
Caliph's  share. 

Musa  hastened  to  write  an  account  of  his  vic- 
tories to  his  patron  Abd'alaziz  Ibn  Merwan,  and 
as  he  knew  covetousness  to  be  the  prime  failing 
of  the  emir,  he  sent  him,  at  the  same  time,  a  great 
share  of  the  spoils,  with  choice  horses  and  female 
slaves  of  surpassing  beauty. 

The  letter  and  the  present  came  most  oppor- 
tunely. Abd'alaziz  had  just  received  a  letter 
from  his  brother,  the  Caliph,  rebuking  him  for 
having  deposed  Hossan,  a  brave,  experienced 
and  fortunate  officer,  and  given  his  office  to  Musa, 
a  man  who  had  formerly  incurred  the  displeasure 
of  the  government  ;  and  he  was  ordered  forthwith 
to  restore  Hossan  to  his  command. 

In  reply,  Abd'alaziz  transmitted  the  news  of  the 
African  victories.  "  I  have  just  received  from 
Musa,"  writes  he,  "  the  letter  which  I  inclose, 
that  thou  mayest  peruse  it,  and  give  thanks  to 
God." 

Other  tidings  came  to  the  same  purport,  accom- 
panied by  a  great  amount  of  booty.  The  Caliph's 
feelings  toward  Musa  immediately  changed.  He 
at  once  saw  his  fitness  for  the  post  he  occupied, 
and  confirmed  the  appointment  of  Abd'alaziz, 
making  him  emir  of  Africa.  He,  moreover, 
granted  yearly  pensions  of  two  hundred  pieces  of 
gold  to  himself  and  one  hundred  to  each  of  his 
sons,  and  directed  him  to  select  from  among  his 
soldiers  five  hundred  of  those  who  had  most  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  battle,  or  received  most 
wounds,  and  give  them  each  thirty  pieces  of  gold. 
Lastly,  he  revoked  the  fine  formerly  imposed  upon 
him  of  fifty  thousand  dinars  of  gold,  and  author- 
ized him  to  reimburse  himself  out  of  the  Caliph's 
share  of  the  spoil. 

This  last  sum  Musa  declined  to  receive  for  his 
own  benefit,  but  publicly  devoted  it  to  the  promo- 
tion of  the  faith  and  the  good  of  its  professors. 
Whenever  a  number  of  captives  were  put  up  for 
sale  after  a  victory,  he  chose  from  among  them 
those  who  were  young,  vigorous,  intelligent,  of 
noble  origin,  and  who  appeared  disposed  to  be 
instructed  in  the  religion  of  Islam.  If  they  were 
converted,  and  proved  to  have  sufficient  talent,  he 
gave  them  their  liberty,  and  appointed  them  to 
commands  in  his  army  ;  if  otherwise,  he  returned 
them  to  the  mass  of  captives,  to  be  disposed  of  in 
the  usual  manner. 

The  tame  of  Musa's  victories,  and  of  the  im- 
mense spoil  collected  by  his  troops,  brought  re- 
cruits to  his  standard  from  Egypt  and  Syria,  and 
other  distant  parts  ;  for  rapine  was  becoming 
more  and  more  the  predominant  passion  of  the 
Moslems.  The  army  of  Musa  was  no  longer  com- 
posed, like  the  primitive  armies  of  the  faith, 
merely  of  religious  zealots.  The  campaigns  in 
foreign  countries,  and  the  necessity,  at  distant 
points,  of  recruiting  the  diminished  ranks  from 
such  sources  as  were  at  hand,  had  relaxed  the  an- 
cient scruples  as  to  unity  of  faith,  and  men  of 
different  creeds  now  fought  under  the  standard  of 
Islam  without  being  purified  byconversion.  The 
army  was,  therefore,  a  motley  host  of  every  coun- 
try and  kind  ;  Arabs  and  Syrians,  Persians  and 
Copts,  and  nomadic  Africans  ;  arrayed  in  every 


kind  of  garb,  and  armed  with  every  kind  of  weap- 
on. Musa  had  succeeded  in  enlisting  1.1  his  ser- 
vice many  of  the  native  tribes  ;  a  lew  of  them 
were  Christians,  a  greater  proportion  idolaters, 
but  the  greatest  number  professed  Judaism.  They 
readily  amalgamated  with  the  Arabs,  having  the 
same  nomad  habits,  and  the  same  love  of  war  and 
rapine.  They  even  traced  their  origin  to  the 
same  Asiatic  stock.  According  to  their  traditions 
five  colonies,  or  tribes,  came  in  ancient  times 
from  Sabaea,  in  Arabia  the  Happy,  being  expelled 
thence  with  their  king  Ifrique.  From  these  de- 
scended the  five  most  powerful  Berber  tribes,  the 
Zenhagians,  Muzamudas,  Zenetes,  Gomeres,  and 
Hoares. 

Musa  artfully  availed  himself  of  these  traditions, 
addressed  the  conquered  Berbers  as  Aulad-arabi 
(sons  of  the  Arabs),  and  so  soothed  their  pride  by 
this  pretended  consanguinity,  that  many  readily 
embraced  the  Moslem  faith,  and  thousands  of  the 
bravest  men  of  Numidia  enrolled  themselves  of 
their  own  free  will  in  the  armies  of  Islam. 

Others,  however,  persisted  in  waging  stubborn 
war  with  the  invaders  of  their  country,  and  among 
these  the  most  powerful  and  intrepid  were  the 
Zenetes.  They  were  a  free,  independent,  and 
haughty  race.  Marmol,  in  his  description  of  Af- 
rica, represents  them  as  inhabiting  various  parts 
of  the  country.  Some  leading  a  roving  life  about 
the  plains,  living  in  tents  like  the  Arabs  ;  others 
having  castles  and  strongholds  in  the  mountains  ; 
others,  very  troglodytes,  infesting  the  dens  and 
caves  of  Mount  Atlas,  and  others  wandering  on 
the  borders  of  the  Libyan  desert. 

The  Gomeres  were  also  a  valiant  and  warlike 
tribe,  inhabiting  the  mountains  of  the  lesser  Atlas, 
in  Mauritania,  bordering  the  frontiers  of  Ceuta, 
while  the  Muzamudas  lived  in  the  more  western 
part  of  that  extreme  province,  where  the  great 
Atlas  advances  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean. 

In  the  eighty-third  year  of  the  Hegira,  Musa 
made  one  of  his  severest  campaigns  against  a 
combined  force  of  these  Berber  tribes,  collected 
under  the  banners  of  their  several  princes.  They 
had  posted  themselves  in  one  of  the  fastnesses  oi 
the  Atlas  mountains,  to  which  the  only  approach 
was  through  different  gorges  and  defiles.  Ah 
these  were  defended  with  great  obstinacy,  but 
were  carried,  one  after  the  other,  after  several 
days  of  severe  fighting. 

The  armies  at  length  found  themselves  in  pres- 
ence of  each  other,  when  a  general  conflict  was 
unavoidable.  As  they  were  drawn  out,  regard* 
ing  each  other  with  menacing  aspect,  a  Berber 
chief  advanced,  and  challenged  any  one  of  the 
Moslem  cavaliers  to  single  combat.  There  was 
a  delay  in  answering  to  the  challenge  ;  whereupon 
Musa  turned  to  his  son  Merwan,  who  had  charge 
of  the  banners,  and  told  him  to  meet  the  Berber 
warrior.  The  youth  handed  his  banner  to  his 
brother  Abd'alaziz,  and  stepped  forward  with 
alacrity.  The  Berber,  a  stark  and  seasoned  war- 
rior of  the  mountains,  regarded  with  surprise  and 
almost  scorn  an  opponent  scarce  arrived  at  man- 
hood. "  Return  to  the  camp,"  cried  he  ;  "  I  would 
not  deprive  thine  aged  father  of  so  comely  a  son." 
Merwan  replied  but  with  his  weapon,  assailing 
his  adversary  so  vigorously  that  he  retreated  and 
sprang  upon  his  horse.  He  now  urged  his  steed 
upon  the  youth,  and  made  a  thrust  at  him  with  a 
javelin,  but  Merwan  seized  the  weapon  with  one 
hand,  and  with  the  other  thrust  his  own  javelin 
through  the  Berber's  side,  burying  it  in  the  flanks 
of  the  steed  ;  so  that  both  horse  and  rider  were 
brought  to  the  ground  and  slain. 


174 


MAHOMET   AND   HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


The  two  armies  now  closed  in  a  general  strug- 
gle ;  it  was  bloody  and  desperate,  but  ended  in 
the  complete  defeat  of  the  Berbers.  Kasleyah, 
their  king,  fell  fighting  to  the  last.  A  vast  num- 
ber of  captives  were  taken  ;  among  them  were 
many  beautiful  maidens,  daughters  of  princes  and 
military  chiefs.  At  the  division  of  the  spoil,  Musa 
caused  these  high-born  damsels  to  stand  before 
him,  and  bade  Merwan,  his  son,  who  had  so  re- 
cently distinguished  himself,  to  choose  among 
them.  The  youth  chose  one  who  was  a  daughter 
of  the  late  king  Kasleyah.  She  appears  to  have 
found  solace  for  the  loss  of  her  father  in  the  arms 
of  a  youthful  husband  ;  and  ultimately  made 
Merwan  the  father  of  two  sons,  Musa  and  Abd'- 
almalec. 


CHAPTER   LVI. 

• 

NAVAL  ENTERPRISES  OF  MUSA— CRUISINGS  OF  HIS 
SON   ABDOLOLA — DEATH    OF   ABD'ALMALEC. 

THE  bold  and  adventurous  spirit  of  Musa  Ibn 
Nosseyr  was  not  content  with  victories  on  land. 
"  Always  endeavor  to  do  more  than  is  expected  of 
thee,"  was  his  maxim,  and  he  now  aspired  to 
achieve  triumphs  on  the  sea.  He  had  ports  within 
his  province,  whence  the  Phoenicians  and  Cartha- 
ginians, in  the  days  of  their  power,  had  fitted  out 
maritime  enterprises.  Why  should  he  not  do  the 
same  ? 

The  feelings  of  the  Arab  conquerors  had  widely 
changed  in  regard  to  naval  expeditions.  When 
Amru,  the  conqueror  of  Egypt,  was  at  Alexandria, 
the  Caliph  Omar  required  of  him  a  description  of 
the  Mediterranean.  "  It  is  a  great  pool,"  replied 
Amru,  "  which  some  foolhardy  people  furrow  ; 
looking  like  ants  on  logs  of  wood."  The  answer 
•was  enough  for  Omar,  who  was  always  appre- 
hensive that  the  Moslems  would  endanger  their 
conquests  by  rashly-extended  enterprises.  He 
forbade  all  maritime  expeditions.  Perhaps  he 
feared  that  the  inexperience  of  the  Arabs  would 
expose  them  to  defeat  from  the  Franks  and  Ro- 
mans, who  were  practised  navigators. 

Moawyah,  however,  as  we  have  shown,  more 
confident  of  the  Moslem  capacity  for  nautical 
warfare,  had  launched  the  banner  of  Islam  on  the 
sea  from  the  ancient  ports  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  and 
had  scoured  the  eastern  waters  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean. The  Moslems  now  had  armaments  in 
various  ports  of  Syria  and  Egypt,  and  warred  with 
the  Christians  by  sea  as  well  as  by  land.  Abd' al- 
malec had  even  ordered  Musa's  predecessor,  Hos- 
san,  to  erect  an  arsenal  at  Tunis  ;  Musa  now  un- 
dertook to  carry  those  orders  into  effect,  to  found 
dock-yards,  and  to  build  a  fleet  for  his  proposed 
enterprise. 

At  the  outset  he  was  surrounded  by  those  sage 
doubters  who  are  ever  ready  to  chill  the  ardor  of 
enterprise.  They  pronounced  the  scheme  rash 
and  impracticable.  A  gray-headed  Berber,  who 
had  been  converted  to  Islam,  spoke  in  a  different 
tone.  "  I  am  one  hundred  and  twenty  years 
old,"  said  he,  "  and  I  well  remember  hearing  my 
father  say,  that  when  the  Lord  of  Carthage 
thought  of  building  his  city,  the  people  all,  as  at 
present,  exclaimed  against  it  as  impracticable  ; 
one  alone  rose  and  said,  Oh  king,  put  thy  hand  to 
the  work  and  it  will  be  achieved  ;  for  the  kings 
thy  predecessors  persevered  and  achieved  every 


thing  they  undertook,  whatever  might  be  the  diffi- 
culty. And  I  say  to  thee,  Oh  emir,  put  thy  hand 
to  this  work,  and  God  will  help  thee  !" 

Musa  did  put  his  hand  to  the  work,  and  so  ef- 
fectually that  by  the  conclusion  of  the  eighty-fourth 
year  of  the  Hegira,  A.D.  703,  the  arsenal  and 
dock-yard  were  complete,  and  furnished  with 
maritime  stores,  and  there  was  a  numerous  fleet 
in  the  port  of  Tunis. 

About  this  time  a  Moslem  fleet,  sent  by  Abd:- 
alaziz,  the  emir  of  Egypt,  to  make  a  ravaging  de- 
scent on  the  coast  of  Sardinia,  entered  the  port  of 
Susa,  which  is  between  Caerwan  and  Tunis. 
Musa  sent  provisions  to  the  fleet,  but  wrote  to  the 
commander,  Atta  Ibn  Rafi,  cautioning  him  that 
the  season  was  too  late  for  his  enterprise,  and  ad- 
vising him  to  remain  in  port  until  more  favorable 
time  and  weather. 

Atta  treated  his  letter  with  contempt,  as  the  ad- 
vice of  a  landsman  ;  and,  having  refitted  his  ves- 
sels, put  to  sea.  He  landed  on  an  island,  called 
by  the  Arab  writers,  Salsalah,  probably  Linosa  or 
Lampedosa  ;  made  considerable  booty  of  gold,  sil- 
ver, and  precious  stones,  and  again  set  sail  on  his 
plundering  cruise.  A  violent  storm  arose,  his 
ships  were  dashed  on  the  rocky  coast  of  Atrica, 
and  he  and  nearly  all  his  men  were  drowned. 

Musa,  hearing  of  the  disaster,  dispatched  his 
son,  Abd'alaziz,  with  a  troop  of  horse  to  the  scene 
of  the  shipwreck,  to  render  all  the  assistance  in 
his  power,  ordering  that  the  vessels  and  crews 
which  survived  the  storm  should  repair  to  the 
port  of  Tunis  ;  all  which  was  done.  At  the  place 
of  the  wreck  Abd'alaziz  found  a  heavy  box  cast  up 
on  the  sea-shore  ;  on  being  opened,  its  contents 
proved  to  be  the  share  of  spoil  of  one  of  the  war- 
riors of  the  fleet  who  had  perished  in  the  sea. 

The  author  of  the  tradition  from  which  these  facts 
are  gleaned,  adds,  that  one  day  he  found  an  old 
man  sitting  on  the  sea-shore  with  a  reed  in  his 
hand,  which  he  attempted  to  take  from  him.  A 
scuffle  ensued  ;  he  wrested  the  reed  from  his 
hands,  and  struck  him  with  it  over  his  head  ; 
when  lo,.it  broke,  and  out  fell  gold  coins  and 
pearls  and  precious  stones.  Whether  the  old 
man,  thus  hardly  treated,  was  one  of  the  wrecked 
cruisers,  or  a  wrecker  seeking  to  profit  by  their 
misfortunes,  is  not  specified  in  the  tradition.  The 
anecdote  shows  in  what  a  random  way  the  treas- 
ures of  the  earth  were  in  those  days  scattered 
about  the  world  by  the  predatory  hosts  of  Islam. 

The  surviving  ships  having  been  repaired,  and 
added  to  those  recently  bulit  at  Tunis,  and  the 
season  having  become  favorable,  Musa,  early  in 
the  eighty-fifth  year  of  the  Hegira,  declared  his 
intention  to  undertake,  in  person,  a  naval  expedi- 
tion. There  was  a  universal  eagerness  among 
the  troops  to  embark  ;  Musa  selected  about  a 
thousand  of  the  choicest  of  his  warriors,  especially 
those  of  rank  and  family,  so  that  the  enterprise 
was  afterward  designated  The  Expedition  of  the 
Nobles.  He  did  not,  however,  accompany  it  as 
he  had  promised  ;  he  had  done  so  merely  to  enlist 
his  bravest  men  in  the  undertaking  ;  the  com- 
mand was  given  to  his  son,  Abdolola,  to  give  him 
an  opportunity  to  distinguish  himself  ;  for  the 
reputation  of  his  sons  was  as  dear  to  Musa  as  his 
own. 

It  was,  however,  a  mere  predatory  cruise  ;  a 
type  of  the  ravaging  piracies  from  the  African 
ports  in  after  ages.  Abdolola  coasted  the  fair 
island  of  Sicily  with  his  ships,  landed  on  the  west- 
ern side,  and  plundered  a  city,  which  yielded  such 
abundant  spoil  that  each  of  the  thousand  men 
embarked  in  the  cruise  received  one  hundred 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


175 


dinars  of  gold  for  his  share.  This  done,  the  fleet 
returned  to  Africa. 

Soon  atter  the  return  of  his  ships,  Musa  re- 
ceived news  of  the  death  of  his  patron  Abd'alaziz, 
which  was  followed  soon  after  by  tidings  of  the 
death  of  the  Caliph.  On  hearing  of  the  death  of 
the  latter,  Musa  immediately  sent  a  messenger  to 
Damascus  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  in  his 
name,  to  the  new  Caliph  ;  to  inform  him  of  the 
naval  achievements  of  his  son  Abdolola,  and  to 
deliver  to  him  his  share  of  the  immense  booty 
gained.  The  effect  of  course  was  to  secure  his 
continuance  in  office  as  emir  of  Africa. 

The  malady  which  terminated  in  the  death  of 
Abd'almalec  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  dropsy. 
It  was  attended  in  its  last  stages  with  excessive 
thirst,  which  was  aggravated  by  the  prohibition 
of  his  physicians  that  any  water  should  be  given 
to  him,  lest  it  should  cause  certain  death.  In  the 
paroxysms  of  his  malady  the  expiring  Caliph  de- 
manded water  of  his  son  Waled  ;  it  was  withheld 
through  filial  piety.  His  daughter  Fatima  ap- 
proached with  a  flagon,  but  Waled  interfered  and 
prevented  her  ;  whereupon  the  Caliph  threatened 
him  with  disinheritance  and  his  malediction. 
Fatima  handed  to  him  the  flagon,  he  drained 
it  at  a  draught,  and  almost  instantly  expired. 
He  was  about  sixty  years  old  at  the  time  of 
his  death,  and  had  reigned  about  twenty  years. 
Abulfecla  gives  him  a  character  for  learning, 
courage,  and  foresight.  He  certainly  showed 
ability  and  management  in  reuniting,  under  his 
sway,  the  dismembered  portions  of  the  Moslem 
empire,  and  quelling  the  various  sects  that  rose  in 
arms  against  him.  His  foresight  with  regard  to 
his  tamily  also  was  crowned  with  success,  as  four 
of  his  sons  succeeded  him,  severally,  in  the 
Caliphat. 

He  evinced  an  illiberal  spirit  of  hostility  to  the 
memory  of  Ali,  carrying  it  to  such  a  degree  that 
he  would  not  permit  the  poet  Ferazdak  to  cele- 
brate in  song  the  virtues  of  any  of  his  descendants. 
Perhaps  this  may  have  gained  for  Abd'almalec 
another  by-name  with  which  some  of  the  Arab 
writers  have  signalized  his  memory,  calling  him 
the  "  Father  of  Flies  ;"  for  so  potent,  say  they, 
was  his  breath,  that  any  fly  which  alighted  on  his 
lips  died  on  the  spot. 


CHAPTER   LVII. 

INAUGURATION  OF  WALED,  TWELFTH  CALIPH — 
REVIVAL  OF  THE  ARTS  UNDER  HIS  REIGN — 
HIS  TASTE  FOR  ARCHITECTURE — ERECTION  OF 
MOSQUES — CONQUESTS  OF  HIS  GENERALS. 

WALED,  the  eldest  son  of  Abd'almalec,  was 
proclaimed  Caliph  at  Damascus  immediately  on 
the  death  of  his  father,  in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of 
the  Hegira,  and  the  year  705  of  the  Christian  era. 
He  was  about  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  and  is 
described  as  being  tall  and  robust,  with  a  swarthy 
complexion,  a  face  much  pitted  with  the  small- 
pox, and  a  broad  flat  nose  ;  in  other  respects, 
which  are  left  to  our  conjecture,  he  is  said  to  have 
been  of  a  good  countenance.  His  habits  were 
indolent  and  voluptuous,  yet  he  was  of  a  choleric 
temper,'- and  somewhat  inclined  to  cruelty. 

During  the  reign  of  Waled  the  arts  began  to 
develop  themselves  under  the  Moslem  sway  ; 
finding  a  more  genial  home  in  the  luxurious  city 
of  Damascus  than  they  had  done  in  the  holy  cities 


of  Mecca  or  Medina.  Foreign  conquests  had 
brought  the  Arabs  in  contact  with  the  Greeks  and 
the  Persians.  Intercourse  with  them,  and  resi- 
dence in  their  cities,  had  gradually  refined  away 
the  gross  habits  of  the  desert  ;  had  awakened 
thirst  for  the  sciences,  and  a  relish  for  the  ele- 
gancies of  cultivated  life.  Little  skilled  in  the 
principles  of  government,  accustomed  in  their  na- 
tive deserts  to  the  patriarchal  rule  of  separate 
tribes,  without  any  extended  scheme  of  policy  or 
combined  system  of  union,  the  Arabs,  suddenly 
masters  of  a  vast  and  continually  widening  em- 
pire, had  to  study  the  art  of  governing  in  the 
political  institutions  of  the  countries  they  con- 
quered. Persia,  the  best  organized  monarchy  in 
Asia,  held  out  a  model  by  which  they  were  fain  to 
profit  ;  and  in  their  system  of  emirs  vested  with 
the  sway  of  distant  and  powerful  provinces,  but 
strictly  responsible  to  the  Caliph,  we  see  a  copy  of 
the  satraps  or  viceroys,  the  provincial  depositaries 
of  the  power  of  the  Khosrus. 

Since  Moawyah  had  moved,  the  seat  of  the  Ca- 
liphat to  Damascus,  a  change  had  come  over  the 
style  of  the  Moslem  court.  It  was  no  longer,  as 
in  the  days  of  Omar,  the  conference  of  a  poorly 
clad  Arab  chieftain  with  his  veteran  warriors  and 
gray-beard  companions,  seated  on  their  mats  in 
the  corner  of  a  mosque  :  the  Moslem  Caliph  at 
Damascus  had  now  his  divan,  in  imitation  of  the 
Persian  monarch  ;  and  his  palace  began  to  assume 
somewhat  of  oriental  state  and  splendor. 

In  nothing  had  the  Moslem  conquerors  showed 
more  ignorance  of  affairs  than  in  financial  mat- 
ters. The  vast  spoils  acquired  in  their  conquests, 
and  the  tribute  and  taxes  imposed  on  subjugated 
countries,  had  for  a  time  been  treated  like  the 
chance  booty  caught  up  in  predatory  expeditions 
in  the  deserts.  They  were  amassed  in  public 
treasuries  without  register  or  account,  and  shared 
and  apportioned  without  judgment,  and  often 
without  honesty.  Hence  continual  frauds  and 
peculations  ;  hence  those  charges,  so  readily 
brought  and  readily  believed,  against  generals 
and  governors  in  distant  stations,  of  enormous 
frauds  and  embezzlements,  and  hence  that  grasp- 
ing avarice,  that  avidity  of  spoil  and  treasure, 
which  were  more  and  more  destroying  the  original 
singleness  of  purpose  of  the  soldiers  of  Islam. 

Moawyah  was  the  first  of  the  Caliphs  who  or- 
dered that  registers  of  tribute  and  taxes,  as  well 
as  of  spoils,  should  be  kept  in  the  Islamite  coun- 
tries, in  their  respective  languages  ;  that  is  to  say, 
in  the  Greek  language  in  Syria,  and  in  the  Per- 
sian language  in  Irak  ;  but  Abd'almalec  went 
further,  and  ordered  that  they  should  all  be  kept 
in  Arabic.  Nothing,  however,  could  effectually 
check  the  extortion  and  corruption  which  was  pre- 
vailing more  and  more  in  the  administration  of 
the  conquered  provinces.  Even  the  rude  Arab 
soldier,  who  in  nis  desert  would  have  been  con- 
tent with  his  tent  of  hair-cloth,  now  aspired  to  the 
possession  of  fertile  lands,  or  a  residence  amid 
the  voluptuous  pleasures  of  the  city. 

Waled  had  grown  up  amid  the  refinements  and 
corruptions  of  the  transplanted  Caliphat.  He  was 
more  of  a  Greek  and  Persian  than  an  Arab  in  his 
tastes,  and  the  very  opposite  of  that  primitive 
Moslem,  Omar,  in  most  of  his  habitudes  On  as- 
suming the  sovereign  power  he  confirmed  all  the 
emirs  or  governors  of  provinces,  and  also  the 
generals  appointed  by  his  father.  On  these  he 
devolved  all  measures  of  government  and  warlike 
duties  ;  for  himself,  he  led  a  soft,  luxurious  life 
amidst  the  delights  of  his  harem.  Yet,  though 
he  had  sixty-three  wives,  he  does  not  appear  to 


176 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


have  left  any  issue.  Much  of  his  time  was  de- 
voted to  the  arts.^rid  especially  the  art  of  archi- 
tecture, in  which  he  left  some  noble  monuments 
to  perpetuate  his  fame. 

He  caused  the  principal  mosque  at  Cairo  to  be 
demolished,  and  one  erected  of  greater  majesty, 
the  pillars  of  which  had  gilded  capitals.  He  en- 
larged and  beautified  the  grand  mosque  erected 
on  the  site  of  the  temple  of  Solomon,  lor  he  was 
anxious  to  perpetuate  the  pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem 
established  by  his  father.  He  gave  command 
that  the  bounds  of  the  mosque  at  Medina  should 
be  extended  so  as  to  include  the  tomb  of  the 
prophet,  and  the  nine  mansions  of  his  wives.  He 
furthermore  ordered  that  all  the  buildings  round 
the  Caaba  at  Mecca  should  be  thrown  clown,  and 
a  magnificent  quadrangular  mosque  erected,  such 
as  is  to  be  seen  at  the  present  day.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  sent  a  body  of  skilful  Syrian  architects 
from  Damascus. 

Many  of  the  faithful  were  grieved,  particularly 
those  well  stricken  in  years,  the  old  residents  of 
Mecca,  to  see  the  ancient  simplicity  established  by 
the  prophet,  violated  by  the  splendor  of  this  edi- 
fice, especially  as  the  dwellings  of  numerous  in- 
dividuals were  demolished  to  furnish  a  vast  square 
for  the  foundations  of  the  new  edifice,  which  now 
inclosed  within  its  circuit  the  Caaba,  the  well  of 
Zem  Zem,  and  the  stations  of  different  sects  of 
Moslems  which  came  in  pilgrimage. 

All  these  works  were  carried  on  under  the 
supervision  of  his  emirs,  but  the  Caliph  attended 
in  person  to  the  erection  of  a  grand  mosque  in  his 
capital  of  Damascus.  In  making  arrangements 
for  this  majestic  pile  he  cast  his  eyes  on  the 
superb  church  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,'  which  had 
been  embellished  by  the  Roman  emperors  during 
successive  ages,  and  enriched  with  the  bones 
and  relics  of  saints  and  martyrs.  He  offered  the 
Christians  forty  thousand  dinars  of  gold  for  this 
holy  edifice  ;  but  they  replied,  gold  was  of  no 
value  in  comparison  with  the  sacred  bones  en- 
shrined within  its  walls. 

The  Caliph,  therefore,  took  possession  of  the 
church  on  his  own  authority,  and  either  demolished 
or  altered  it  so  as  to  suit  his  purpose  in  the  con- 
struction of  his  mosque,  and  did  not  allow  the 
Christian  owners  a  single  dirhem  of  compensa- 
tion. He  employed  twelve  thousand  workmen 
constantly  in  this  architectural  enterprise,  and 
one  of  his  greatest  regrets  in  his  last  moments1 
was  that  he  should  not  live  to  see  it  comple- 
ted. 

The  architecture  of  these  mosques  was  a  mix- 
ture of  Greek  and  Persian,  and  gave  rise  to  the 
Saracenic  style,  of  which  Waled  may  be  said  to 
be  founder.  The  slender  and  graceful  palm-tree 
may  have  served  as  a  model  for  its  columns,  as 
the  clustering  trees  and  umbrageous  forests  of  the 
north  are  thought  to  have  thrown  their  massive 
forms  and  shadowy  glooms  into  Gothic  architec- 
ture. These  two  kinds  of  architecture  have  often 
been  confounded,  but  the  Saracenic  takes  the 
precedence  ;  the  Gothic  borrowed  graces  and 
embellishments  from  it  in  the  times  of  the  Cru- 
sades. 

While  the  Caliph  Waled  lived  indolently  and 
voluptuously  at  Damascus,  or  occupied  himself 
in  erecting  mosques,  his  generals  extended  his  em- 
pire in  various  directions.  Moslema  Ibn  Abd'- 
almalec,  one  of  his  fourteen  brothers,  led  an  army 
into  Asia  Minor,  invaded  Cappadocia,  and  laid 
siege  to  Tyana,  a  strong  city  garrisoned  with  im- 
perial troops.  It  was  so  closely  invested  that  it 
could  receive  no  provisions  ;  but  the  besiegers 


were  equally  in  want  of  supplies.  The  contest 
was  fierce  on  both  sides,  for  both  were  sharpened 
and  irritated  by  hunger,  and  it  became  a  con- 
test which  could  hold  out  longest  against 
famine. 

The  duration  of  the  siege  enabled  the  emperor 
!  to  send  reinforcements  to  the  place,  but  they  were 
|  raw,  undisciplined  recruits,   who  were  routed  by 
|  the  hungry  Moslems,   their   camp   captured,  and 
|  their  provisions  greedily  devoured.     The  defeat  of 
j  these  reinforcements  rendered  the  defence  of  the 
city  hopeless,  and  the  pressure  of  famine  hastened 
a  capitulation,  the  besieged  not  being  aware  that 
the  besiegers  were  nearly   as    much  famished  as 
themselves.      Moslema   is    accused    by   Christian 
writers  of  having  violated    the  conditions  of  sur- 
render ;  many  of  the  inhabitants  were  driven  forth 
into  the  deserts,  and  many  of  the  remainder  were 
taken  for  slaves.     In  a  subsequent  year  Moslema 
made  a  successful  incursion  into  Pontus  and  Ar- 
menia, a  great  part  of  which  he  subjugated,  and 
took  the  city  of  Amasia,  after  a  severely  contested 
siege.     He  afterward  made  a  victorious  campaign 
into  Galatia,  ravaging  the    whole   province,   and 
bearing    away   rich    spoils    and    numerous    cap- 
tives. 

While  Moslema  was  thus  bringing  Asia  Minor 
into  subjection,  his  son  Khatiba,  a  youth  of  great 
bravery,  was  no  less  successful  in  extending  the 
empire  of  the  faith  toward  the  East.  Appointed 
to  the  government  of  Khorassan,  he  did  not  con- 
tent himself  with  attending  to  the  affairs  of  his 
own  province,  but  crossing  the  Oxus,  ravaged  the 
provinces  of  Turkistan,  defeated  a  great  army  of 
Turks  and  Tartars,  by  which  he  had  been  be- 
leaguered and  reduced  to  great  straits,  and  took 
the  capital  city  of  Bochara,  with  many  others  of 
inlerior  note. 

He  defeated  also  Magourek,  the  Khan  of  Char- 
ism,  and  drove  him  to  take  refuge  in  the  great  city 
of  Samarcand.  This  city,  anciently  called  Mar- 
canda,  was  one  of  the  chief  marts  of  Asia,  as  well 
for  the  wares  imported  from  China  and  Tangut 
across  the  desert  of  Cobi,  as  of  those  brought 
through  the  mountains  of  the  great  Thibet,  and 
those  conveyed  from  India  to  the  Caspian  Sea. 
It  was,  therefore,  a  great  resort  and  icsting-place 
for  caravans  from  all  quarters.  The  surrounding 
country  was  renowned  throughout  the  East  for 
fertility,  and  ranked  among  the  paradises  or  gar- 
dens of  Asia. 

To  this  city  Katiba  laid  siege,  but  the  inhabi- 
tants set  him  at  defiance,  being  confident  of  the 
strength  of  their  walls,  and  aware  that  the  Arabs 
had  no  battering-rams,  nor  other  engines  neces- 
sary for  the  attack  of  fortified  places.  A  long  and 
close  siege,  however,  reduced  the  garrison  to 
great  extremity,  and  finding  that  the  besiegers 
were  preparing  to  carry  the  place  by  storm,  they 
capitulated,  agreeing  to  pay  an  annual  tribute  of 
one  thousand  dinars  of  gold  and  three  thousand 
slaves. 

Khatiba  erected  a  magnificent  mosque  in  that 
metropolis,  and  officiated  personally  in  expound- 
ing the  doctrines  of  Islam,  which  began  soon  to 
supersede  the  religion  of  the  Magians  or  Ghebers. 

Extensive  victories  were  likewise  achieved  in 
India  during  the  reign  of  Waled,  by  Mohamec 
Ibn  Casern,  a  native  otThayef,  one  of  his  generals 
who  conquered  the  kingdom  of  Sindia,  or  Sinde, 
killed  its  sovereign  in  battle,  and  sent  his  head  to 
the  Caliph  ;  overran  a  great  part  of  Central  India, 
and  first  planted  the  standard  of  Islam  on  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges,  the  sacred  river  of  the  Hin- 
doos. 


MAHOMET   AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


177 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

FURTHER  TRIUMPHS  OF  MUSA  IBN  NOSSEYR — 
NAVAL  ENTERPRISES — DESCENTS  IN  SICILY, 
SARDINIA,  AND  MALLORCA — INVASION  OF  TIN- 
GITANIA  —  PROJECTS  FOR  THE  INVASION  OF 
SPAIN — CONCLUSION. 

To  return  to  affairs  in  Africa.  During  the  first 
years  of  the  Caliphat  of  Waled  the  naval  arma- 
ments fitted  out  by  Musa  in  the  ports  of  Eastern 
Africa  continued  to  scour  the  Mediterranean  and 
carry  terror  and  devastation  into  its  islands.  One 
of  them  coasted  the  island  of  Sicily  in  the  eighty- 
sixth  year  of  the  Hegira,  and  attacked  the  city 
of  Syracuse  ;  but  the  object  appears  to  have  been 
mere  plunder,  not  to  retain  possession.  Another 
ravaged  the  island  of  Sardinia,  sacked  its  cities, 
and  brought  off  a  vast  number  of  prisoners  and 
immense  booty.  Among  the  captives  were  Chris- 
tian women  oi  great  beauty,  and  highly  prized  in 
the  Eastern  harems.  The  command  of  the  sea 
was  ultimately  given  by  Musa  to  his  son  Abdo- 
lola,  who  added  to  his  nautical  reputation  by  a 
descent  upon  the  island  of  Mallorca. 

While  Abdolola  was  rejoicing  his  father's  heart 
by  exploits  and  triumphs  on  the  sea,  Alxl'alaziz 
contributed  no  less  to  his  pride  and  exultation  by 
his  achievements  on  land.  Aided  by  this  favorite 
son,  Musa  carried  the  terror  of  the  Moslem  arms 
to  the  western  extremity  of  Mount  Atlas,  sub- 
duing Fez,  Duquella,  Morocco,  and  Sus.  The 
valiant  tribes  of  the  Zenetes  at  length  made  peace, 
and  entered  into  compact  with  him  ;  from  other 
tribes  Musa  took  hostages,  and  by  degrees  the 
sway  of  the  Caliph  was  established  throughout 
western  Almagreb  to  Cape  Non  on  the  Atlan- 
tic. 

Musa  was  not  a  ferocious  conqueror.  The 
countries  subjected  by  his  arms  became  objects  of 
his  paternal  care.  He  introduced  law  and  order, 
instructed  the  natives  in  the  doctrines  of  Islam, 
and  defended  the  peaceful  cultivators  of  the  fields 
and  residents  in  the  cities  against  the  incursions 
of  predatory  tribes.  In  return  they  requited  his 
protection  by  contributing  their  fruits  and  flocks 
to  the  support  of  the  armies,  and  furnishing  steeds 
matchless  for  speed  and  beauty. 

One  region,  however,  yet  remained  to  be  sub- 
jugated before  the  conquest  of  Northern  Africa 
would  be  complete  ;  the  ancient  Tingis,  or  Tingi- 
tania,  the  northern  extremity  of  Almagreb.  Here 
the  continent  of  Africa  protruded  boldly  to  meet 
the  continent  of  Europe  ;  a  narrow  strait  inter- 
vened— the  strait  of  Hercules,  the  gate  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea.  Two  rocky  promontories  ap- 
peared to  guard  it  on  each  side,  the  far-famed  pil- 
lars of  Hercules.  Two  rock-built  cities,  Ceuta 
and  Tangiers,  on  the  African  coast,  were  the  keys 
of  this  gate,  and  controlled  the  neighboring  sea- 
board. These  had  been  held  in  ancient  times  by 
the  Berber  kings,  who  made  this  region  their 
stronghold,  and  Tangiers  their  seat  of  power  ;  but 
the  keys  had  been  wrested  from  their  hands  at 
widely-separated  periods,  first  by  the  Vandals, 
and  afterward  by  the  Goths,  the  conquerors  of  the 
opposite  country  of  Spain  ;  and  the  Gothic  Span- 
iards had  now  held  military  possession  for  several 
generations. 

Musa  seems  to  have  reserved  this  province  for 
his  last  African  campaign.  He  stationed  his  son 
Merwan,  with  ten  thousand  men,  in  a  fortified 
camp  on  the  frontier,  while  Taric  Ibn  Zeyad,  a 
veteran  general  scarred  in  many  a  battle,  scoured 


the  country  from  the  fountains  or  head  waters  of 
the  river  Moluya  to  the  mountains  of  Aldaran. 
The  province  was  bravely  defended  by  a  Gothic 
noble,  Count  Julian  byname,  but  he  was  gradually 
driven  to  shut  himself  up  in  Ceuta.  Meantime 
Tangiers  yielded  to  the  Moslem  arms  after  an  ob- 
stinate defence,  and  was  strongly  garrisoned  by 
Arab  and  Egyptian  troops,  and  the  command 
given  to  Taric.  An  attempt  was  made  to  convert 
the  Christian  inhabitants  to  the  faith  of  Islam  ; 
the  Berber  part  easily  conformed,  but  the  Gothic 
persisted  in  unbelief,  and  rather  than  give  up 
their  religion,  abandoned  their  abodes,  and 
crossed  over  to  Andaluz  with  the  loss  of  all  their 
property. 

Musa  now  advanced  upon  Ceuta,  into  which 
Count  Julian  had  drawn  all  his  troops.  He  at- 
tempted to  carry  'it  by  storm,  but  was  gallantly 
repulsed,  with  the  loss  of  many  of  his  best  troops. 
Repeated  assaults  were  made  with  no  better  suc- 
cess ;  the  city  was  situated  on  a  promontory,  and 
strongly  fortified.  Musa  now  laid  waste  the  sur- 
rounding country,  thinking  to  reduce  the  place -by 
famine,  but  the  proximity  of  Spain  enabled  the 
garrison  to  receive  supplies  and  reinforcements 
across  the  strajts. 

Months  were  expended  in  this  protracted  and 
unavailing  siege.  According  to  some  accounts 
Musa  retired  personally  from  the  attempt,  and  re- 
turned to  his  seat  of  government  atCaerwan,  leav- 
ing the  army  and  province  in  charge  of  his  son 
Merwan  and  Taric  in  command  of  Tangiers. 

And  now  occurred  one  of  the  most  memorable 
pieces  of  treason  in  history.  Count  Julian,  who 
had  so  nobly  defended  his  post  and  checked  the 
hitherto  irresistible  arms  of  Islam,  all  at  once 
made  secret  offers,  not  merely  to  deliver  up  Ceuta 
to  the  Moslem  commander,  but  to  betray  Andaluz 
itself  into  his  hands.  The  country  he  represented 
as  rife  for  a  revolt  against  Roderick,  the  Gothic 
king,  who  was  considered  a  usurper  ;  and  he 
offered  to  accompany  and  aid  the  Moslems  in  a 
descent  upon  the  coast,  where  he  had  numerous 
friends  ready  to  flock  to  his  standard. 

Of  the  private  wrongs  received  by  Count  Julian 
from  his  sovereign,  which  provoked  him  to  this 
stupendous  act  of  treason,  we  shall  here  say  noth- 
ing. Musa  was  startled,  by  his  proposition.  He 
had  long  cast  a  wistful  eye  at  the  mountains  of 
Andaluz,  brightening  beyond  the  strait,  but  hith- 
erto the  conquest  of  Northern  Africa  had  tasked 
all  his  means.  Even  now  he  feared  to  trust  too 
readily  to  a  man  whose  very  proposition  showed 
an  utter  want  of  faith.  He  determined,  therefore, 
to  dispatch  Taric  Ibn  Zeyad  on  a  reconnoitering 
expedition  to  coast  the  opposite  shores,  accom- 
panied by  Count  Julian,  and  ascertain  the  truth  of 
his  representations. 

Taric  accordingly  embarked  with  a  few  hun- 
dred men  in  four  merchant  vessels,  crossed  the 
straits  under  the  guidance  of  Count  Julian,  who, 
on  landing,  dispatched  emissaries  to  his  friends 
and  adherents,  summoning  them  to  a  conference 
at  Jesirah  al  Khadra,  or  the  Green  Island,  now 
Algeziras.  Here,  in  presence  of  Taric,  they  con- 
firmed all  that  Julian  had  said  of  the  rebellious 
disposition  of  the  country,  and  of  their  own  readi- 
ness to  join  the  standard  of  an  invader.  A  plun- 
dering cruise  along  the  coast  convinced  Taric  of 
the  wealth  of  the  country,  and  he  returned  to  the 
African  shores  with  ample  spoils  and  female  cap- 
tives of  great  beauty. 

A  new  career  of  conquest  seemed  thus  open- 
ing upon  Musa.  His  predecessor,  Acbah,  had 
spurred  his  steed  into  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic, 


178 


MAHOMET  AND    HIS   SUCCESSORS. 


and  sighed  that  there  were  no  further  lands  to 
conquer  ;  but  here  was  another  quarter  of  the 
world  inviting  the  triumphs  of  Islam.  He  forth- 
with wrote  to  the  Caliph,  giving  a  glowing  ac- 
count of  the  country  thus  held  out  for  conquest  ; 
a  country  abounding  in  noble  monuments  and 
wealthy  cities  ;  rivalling  Syria  in  the  fertility  of  its 
soil  and  the  beauty  of  its  climate  ;  Yemen,  or 
Arabia  the  Happy,  in  its  temperature  ;  India  in  its 
flowers  and  spices  ;  Hegiaz  in  its  fruits  and  pro- 
ductions ;  Cathay  in  its  precious  and  abundant 
mines  ;  Aden  in  the  excellence  of  its  ports  and 
harbors.  "  With  the  aid  of  God,"  added  he,  "  I 
have  reduced  to  obedience  the  Zenetes  and  the 
other  Berber  tribes  of  Zab  and  Derar,  Zaara,  Ma- 
zamuda,  and  Sus  ;  the  standard  of  Islam  floats 
triumphant  on  the  walls  of  Tangiers  ;  thence  to 
the  opposite  coast  of  Anclaluz  is  but  a  space  of 
twelve  miles.  Let  but  the  Commander  of  the 
Faithful  give  the  word,  and  the  conquerors  of  Af- 
rica will  cross  into  that  land,  there  to  carry  the 
knowledge  of  the  true  God  and  the  law  of  the 
Koran." 

The  Arab  spirit  of  the  Caliph  was  roused  by 
this  magnificent  prospect  of  new  conquests.  He 
called  to  mind  a  tradition  that  Mahomet  had 
promised  the  extension  of  his  law  to  the  uttermost 
regions  of  the  West,  and  he  now  gave  full  au- 
thority to  Musa  to  proceed  in  his  pious  enterprise, 
and  carry  the  sword  of  Islam  into  the  benighted 
land  of  Andaluz. 


\Ve  have  thus  accomplished  our  self-allotted 
task.  We  have  set  forth,  in  simple  and  Succinct 
narrative,  a  certain  portion  ot  this  wonderful 
career  of  fanatical  conquest.  We  have  traced  the 
progress  of  the  little  cloud  which  rose  out  of  the 
deserts  of  Arabia,  "  no  bigger  than  a  man's 
hand,"  until  it  has  spread  out  and  overshadowed 
the  ancient  quarters  of  the  world  and  all  their 
faded  glories.  We  have  shown  the  handful  of 
proselytes  of  a  pseudo  prophet,  driven  from  city 
to  city,  lurking  in  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth, 
but  at  length  rising  to  be  leaders  of  armies  and 
mighty  conquerors  ;  overcoming  in  pitched  battle 
the  Roman  cohort,  the  Grecian  phalanx,  and  the 
gorgeous  hosts  of  Persia  ;  carrying  their  victo- 
ries from  the  gates  of  the  Caucasus  to  the  western 
descents  of  Mount  Atlas  ;  from  the  banks  of  the 
Ganges  to  the  Sus,  the  ultimate  river  in  Mauri- 
tania ;  and  now  planting  their  standard  on  the 
pillars  of  Hercules,  and  threatening  Europe  with 
like  subjugation. 

Here,  however,  we  stay  our  hand.  Here  we  lay 
down  our  pen.  Whether  it  will  ever  be  our  lot 
to  resume  this  theme,  to  cross  with  the  Moslem 
hosts  the  strait  of  Hercules,  and  narrate  their 
memorable  conquest  of  Gothic  Spain,  is  one  of 
those  uncertainties  of  mortal  life  and  aspirations 
of  literary  zeal  which  beguile  us  with  agreeable 
dreams,  but  too  often  end  in  disappointment. 

THE  END. 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH: 

A   BIOGRAPHY. 


BY 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


PREFACE. 

IN  the  course  of  a  revised  edition  of  my  works  I 
have  come  to  a  biographical  sketch  of  Goldsmith, 
published  several  years  since.  It  was  written 
hastily,  as  introductory  to  a  selection  from  his 
writings  ;  and,  though  the  facts  contained  in  it 
were  collected  from  various  sources,  I  was  chiefly 
indebted  for  them  to  the  voluminous  work  of  Mr. 
James  Prior,  who  had  collected  and  collated  the 
most  minute  particulars  of  the  poet's  history  with 
unwearied  research  and  scrupulous  fidelity  ;  but 
had  rendered  them,  as  I  thought,  in  a  form  too 
cumbrous  and  overlaid  with  details  and  disquisi- 
tions, and  matters  uninteresting  to  the  general 
reader. 

When  I  was  about  of  late  to  revise  my  bio- 
graphical sketch,  preparatory  to  republication,  a 
volume  was  put  into  my  hands,  recently  given  to 
the  public  by  Mr.  John  Forster,  of  the  Inner  Tem- 
ple, who,  likewise  availing  himself  of  the  labors 
of  the  indefatigable  Prior,  and  of  a  few  new 
lights  since  evolved,  has  produced  a  biography  of 
the  poet,  executed  with  a  spirit,  a  feeling,  a  grace 
and  an  eloquence,  that  leave  nothing  to  be  de- 
sired. Indeed  it  would  have  been  presumption 
in  me  to  undertake  the  subject  after  it  had  been 
thus  felicitously  treated,  did  I  not  stand  commit- 
ted by  my  previous  sketch.  That  sketch  now  ap- 
peared too  meagre  and  insufficient  to  satisfy  pub- 
lic demand  ;  yet  it  had  to  take  its  place  in  the  re- 
vised series  of  my  works  unless  something  more 
satisfactory  could  be  substituted.  Under  these 
circumstances  I  have  again  taken  up  the  subject, 
and  gone  into  it  with  more  fulness  than  former- 
ly, omitting  none  of  the  facts  which  I  considered 
illustrative  of  the  life  and  character  of  the  poet, 
and  giving  them  in  as  graphic  a  style  as  I  could 
command.  Still  the  hurried  manner  in  which  I  have 
had  to  do  this  amidst  the  pressure  of  other  claims 
on  my  attention,  and  with  the  press  dogging  at 
my  heels,  has  prevented  me  from  giving  some 
parts  of  the  subject  the  thorough  handling  I  could 
nave  wished.  Those  who  would  like  to  see  it 
treated  still  more  at  large,  with  the  addition  of 
critical  disquisitions  and  the  advantage  of  colat- 
eral  facts,  would  do  well  to  refer  themselves  to 
Mr.  Prior's  circumstantial  volumes,  or  to  the 
elegant  and  discursive  pages  of  Mr.  Forster. 

For  my  own  part,  I  can  only  regret  my  short- 
comings in  what  to  me  is  a  labor  of  love  ;  for  it 
is  a  tribute  of  gratitude  to  the  memory  of  an  au- 
thor whose  writings  were  the  delight  of  my  child- 


hood, and  have  been  a  source  of  enjoyment  to 
me  throughout  life  ;  and  to  whom,  of  all  others,  I 
may  address  the  beautiful  apostrophe  of  Dante  to 
Virgil  : 

Tu  se'  lo  mio  maestro,  e  '1  mio  autorc  : 
Tu  se'  solo  colui,  da  cu,  io  tolsi 
Lo  bello  stile,  che  m'  ha  fato  onore. 

W.I. 

SUNNYSIDE,  Aug.    I,   1849. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH  AND  PARENTAGE— CHARACTERISTICS  OP 
THE  GOLDSMITH  RACE — POETICAL  BIRTHPLACE 
— GOBLIN  HOUSE — SCENES  OF  BOYHOOD — LIS- 
SOY — PICTURE  OF  A  COUNTRY  PARSON — GOLD- 
SMITH'S SCHOOLMISTRESS — BYRNE,  THE  VIL- 
LAGE SCHOOLMASTER — GOLDSMITH'S  HORNPIPE 
AND  EPIGRAM — UNCLE  CONTARINE — SCHOOL 
STUDIES  AND  SCHOOL  SPORTS— MISTAKES  OF  A 
NIGHT. 

THERE  are  few  writers  for  whom  the  reader 
feels  such  personal  kindness  as  for  Oliver  Gold- 
smith, for  few  have  so  eminently  possessed  the 
magic  gift  of  identifying  themselves  with  their 
writings.  We  read  his  character  in  every  page, 
and  grow  into  familiar  intimacy  with  him  as  we 
read.  The  artless  benevolence  that  beams 
throughout  his  works  ;  the  whimsical,  yet  amia- 
ble views  of  human  life  and  human  nature  ;  the 
unforced  humor,  blending  so  happily  with  good 
feeling  and  good  sense,  and  singularly  dashed 
at  times  with  a  pleasing  melancholy  ;  even  the 
very  nature  of  his  mellow,  and  flowing,  and  softly- 
tinted  style,  all  seem  to  bespeak  his  moral  as  well 
as  his  intellectual  qualities,  and  make  us  love  the 
man  at  the  same  time  that  we  admire  the  author. 
While  the  productions  of  writers  of  loftier  preten- 
sion and  more  sounding  names  are  suffered  tO' 
moulder  on  our  shelves,  those  of  Goldsmith  are 
cherished  and  laid  in  our  bosoms.  We  do  not 
quote  them  with  ostentation,  but  they  mingle  with 
our  minds,  sweeten  our  tempers,  and  harmonize 
our  thoughts  ;  they  put  us  in  good  humor  with 
ourselves  and  with  the  world,  and  in  so  doing  they 
make  us  happier  and  better  men. 

An  acquaintance  with  the  private  biography  of 
Goldsmith  lets  us  into  the  secret  of  his  gifted 
pages.  We  there  discover  them  to  be  little  more 


180 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


than  transcripts  of  his  own  heart  and  picturings 
of  his  fortunes.  There  he  shows  himsell  the  same 
kind,  artless,  good-humored,  excursive,  sensible, 
whimsical,  intelligent  being  that  he  appears  in  his 
writings.  Scarcely  an  adventure  or  character  is 
given  in  his  works  that  may  not  be  traced  to  his 
own  parti-colored  story.  Many  of  his  most  lu- 
dicrous scenes  ?.nd  ridiculous  incidents  have  been 
drawn  from  his  own  blunders  and  mischances, 
and  he  seems  really  to  have  "been  buffeted  into 
almost  every  maxim  imparted  by  him  for  the  in- 
struction ot  his  reader. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  was  born  on  the  loth  of  No- 
vember, 1728,  at  the  .hamlet  of  Pallas,  or  Pallas- 
more,  county  of  Longford,  in  Ireland.  He  sprang 
from  a  respectable,  but  by  no  means  a  thrifty 
stock.  Some  families  seem  to  inherit  kindliness 
and  incompetency,  and  to  hand  down  virtue  and 
poverty  from  generation  to  generation.  Such  was 
the  case  with  the  Goldsmiths.  "  They  were  al- 
ways," according  to  their  own  accounts,  "a 
strange  family  ;  they  rarely  acted  like  other  peo- 

Ele  ;  their  hearts  were  in  the  right  place,  but  their 
eads  seemed  to  be  doing  anything  but  what  they 
ought." — "  They  were  remarkable,"  says  another 
statement,  "  for  their  worth,  but  of  no  cleverness 
in  the  ways  of  the  world."  Oliver  Goldsmith  will 
be  found  faithfully  to  inherit  the  virtues  and 
weaknesses  of  his  race. 

His  father,  the  Rev.  Charles  Goldsmith,  with 
hereditary  improvidence,  married  when  very 
young  and  very  poor,  and  starved  along  for  sev- 
eral years  on  a  small  country  curacy  and  the  as- 
sistance of  his  wife's  friends.  His  whole  income, 
eked  out  by  the  produce  of  some  fields  which  he 
farmed,  and  of  some  occasional  duties  performed 
for  his  wife's  uncle,  the  rector  of  an  adjoining 
parish,  did  not  exceed  forty  pounds. 

"  And  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year." 

He  inhabited  an  old,  half  rustic  mansion,  that 
stood  on  a  rising  ground  in  a  rough,  lonely  part 
of  the  country,  overlooking  a  low  tract  occasion- 
ally flooded  by  the  river  Inny.  In  this  house 
Goldsmith  was  born,  and  it  was  a  birthplace 
worthy  of  a  poet  ;  for,  by  all  accounts,  it  was 
haunted  ground.  A  tradition  handed  down 
among  the  neighboring  peasantry  states  that,  in 
after  years,  the  house,  remaining  for  some  time 
untenanted,  went  to  deecay,  the  roof  fell  in,  and 
it  became  so  lonely  and  forlorn  as  to  be  a  resort 
for  the  "  good  people"  or  fairies,  who  in  Ireland 
are  supposed  to  delight  in  old,  crazy,  deserted 
mansions  for  their  midnight  revels.  All  attempts 
to  repair  it  were  in  vain  ;  the  fairies  battled  stout- 
ly to  maintain  possession.  A  huge  misshapen 
hobgoblin  used  to  bestride  the  house  every  even- 
ing with  an  immense  pair  of  jack-boots,  which,  in 
his  efforts  at  hard  riding,  he  would  thrust  through 
the  roof,  kicking  to  pieces  all  the  work  of  the  pre- 
ceding day.  The  house  was  therefore  left  to  its 
fate,  and  went  to  ruin. 

Such  is  the  popular  tradition  about  Goldsmith's 
birthplace.  About  two  years  after  his  birth  a 
change  came  over  the  circumstances  of  his  father. 
By  the  death  of  his  wife's  uncle  he  succeeded  to 
the  rectory  of  Kilkenny  West  ;  and,  abandoning 
the  old  goblin  mansion,  he  removed  to  Lissoy,  in 
the  county  of  Westmeath,  where  he  occupied  a 
farm  of  seventy  acres,  situated  on  the  skirts  of 
that  pretty  little  village. 

This  was  the  scene  of  Goldsmith's  boyhood,  the 
little  world  whence  he  drew  many  of  those  pic- 
tures, rural  and  domestic,  whimsical  and  touch- 


ing, which  abound  throughout  his  works,  and 
which  appeal  so  eloquently  both  to  the  fancy  and 
the  heart.  Lissoy  is  confidently  cited  as  the  orig- 
inal of  his  "  Auburn"  in  the  "  Deserted  Village  ;" 
his  father's  establishment,  a  mixture  of  farm  and 
parsonage,  furnished  hints,  it  is  said,  for  the  ru- 
ral economy  of  the  Vicar  ot  Wakefield  ;  and  his 
father  himself,  with  his  learned  simplicity,  his 
guileless  wisdom,  his  amiable  piety,  and  utter  ig- 
norance of  the  world,  has  been  exquisitely  por* 
trayed  in  the  worthy  Dr.  Primrose.  Let  us  pause 
for  a  moment,  and  draw  from  Goldsmith's  writ- 
ings one  or  two  of  those  pictures  which,  under 
feigned  names,  represent  his  father  and  his  family, 
and  the  happy  fireside  of  his  childish  clays. 

"  My  father,"  says  the  "  Man  in  Black,"  who, 
in  some  respects,  is  a  counterpart  of  Goldsmith 
himself,  "  my  father,  the  younger  son  of  a  good 
family,  was  possessed  of  a  small  living  in  the 
church.  His  education  was  above  his  fortune, 
and  his  generosity  greater  than  his  education. 
Poor  as  he  was,  he  had  his  flatterers  poorer  than 
himself  ;  for  every  dinner  he  gave  them,  they  re- 
turned him  an  equivalent  in  praise  ;  and  this  was 
all  he  wanted.  The  same  ambition  that  actuates 
a  monarch  at  the  head  of  his  army  influenced  my 
father  at  the  head  of  his  table  :  he  told  the  story 
of  the  ivy-tree,  and  that  was  laughed  at  ;  he  re- 
peated the  jest  of  the  two  scholars  and  one  pair 
of  breeches,  and  the  company  laughed  at  that  ; 
but  the  story  of  Taffy  in  the  sedan-chair  was  sure 
to  set  the  table  in  a  roar.  Thus  his  pleasure  in- 
creased in  proportion  to  the  pleasure  he  gave  ;  he 
loved  all  the  world,  and  he  fancied  all  the  world 
loved  him. 

"  As  his  fortune  was  but  small,  he  lived  up  to 
the  very  extent  of  it  ;  he  had  no  intention  of  leav- 
ing his  children  money,  for  that  was  dross  ;  he 
resolved  they  should  have  learning,  for  learning, 
he  used  to  observe,  was  better  than  silver  or  gold. 
For  this  purpose  he  undertook  to  instruct  us  him- 
self, and  took  as  much  care  to  form  our  morals  as 
to  improve  our  understanding.  We  were  told 
that  universal  benevolence  was  what  first  ce- 
mented society  ;  we  were  taught  to  consider  all 
the  wants  of  mankind  as  our  own  ;  to  regard  the 
human  face  divine  with  affection  and  esteem  ;  he 
wound  us  up  to  be  mere  machines  of  pity,  and 
rendered  us  incapable  of  withstanding  the  slight- 
est impulse  made  either  by  real  or  fictitious  dis- 
tress. In  a  word,  we  were  perfectly  instructed  in 
the  art  of  giving  away  thousands  before  we  were 
taught  the  necessary  qualifications  of  getting  a 
farthing." 

In  the  Deserted  Village  we  have  another  pic- 
ture of  his  father  and  his  father's  fireside  : 

"  His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train, 
He  chid  their  wanderings,  but  relieved  their  pain  ; 
The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  guest, 
Whose  beard,  descending,  swept  his  aged  breast  ; 
The  ruin'd  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud, 
Claim'd  kindred  there,  and  had  his  claims  allow'd  ; 
The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 
Sat  by  his  fire,  and  talk'd  the  night  away  ; 
Wept  o'er  his  wounds,  or  tales  of  sorrow  done, 
Shoulder'd  his  crutch,  and  show'd  how  fields  were 

won. 
Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  learned  to 

glow, 

And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe  ; 
Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began." 

The  family  of  the  worthy  pastor  consisted  of 
five  sons  and  three  daughters.  Henry,  the  eldest, 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


181 


was  the  good  man's  pride  and  hope,  and  he  task- 
ed his  slender  means  to  the  utmost  in  educating 
him  for  a  learned  and  distinguished  career.  Oli- 
ver was  the  second  son,  and  seven  years  younger 
than  Henry,  who  was  the  guide  and  protector  of 
his  childhood,  and  to  whom  he  was  most  tender- 
ly attached  throughout  life. 

Oliver's  education  began  when  he  was  about 
three  years  old  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  gathered 
under  the  wings  of  one  of  those  good  old  mother- 
ly dames,  found  in  every  village,  who  cluck  to- 
gether the  whole  callow  brood  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, to  teach  them  their  letters  and  keep  them 
out  of  harm's  way.  Mistress  Elizabeth  Delap,  for 
that  was  her  name,  flourished  in  this  capacity  for 
upward  of  fifty  years,  and  it  was  the  pride  and 
boast  of  her  declining  days,  when  nearly  ninety 
years  of  age,  that  she  was  the  first  that  had  put  a 
book  (doubtless  a  hornbook)  into  Goldsmith's 
hands.  Apparently  he  did  not  much  profit  by  it, 
for  she  confessed  he  was  one  of  the  dullest  boys 
she  had  ever  dealt  with,  insomuch  that  she  had 
sometimes  doubted  whether  it  was  possible  to 
make  anything  of  him  :  a  common  case  with 
imaginative  children,  who  are  apt  to  be  beguiled 
from  the  dry  abstractions  of  elementary  study  by 
the  picturings  of  the  fancy. 

At  six  years  of  age  he  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  village  schoolmaster,  one  Thomas  (or,  as  he 
was  commonly  and  irreverently  named,  Paddy) 
Byrne,  a  capital  tutor  for  a  poet.  He  had  been 
educated  for  a  pedagogue,  but  had  enlisted  in  the 
army,  served  abroad  during  the  wars  of  Queen 
Anne's  time,  and  risen  to  the  rank  of  quarter- 
master of  a  regiment  in  Spain.  At  the  return  of 
peace,  having  no  longer  exercise  for  the  sword,  he 
resumed  the  ferule,  and  drilled  the  urchin  popu- 
lace of  Lissoy.  Goldsmith  is  supposed  to  have 
had  him  and  his  school  in  view  in  the  following 
sketch  in  his  Deserted  Village  : 

"  Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way, 
With  blossom'd  furze  unprofitably  gay, 
There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skill'd  to  rule, 
The  village  master  taught  his  little  school  ; 
A  man  severe  he  was,  and  stern  to  view, 
I  knew  him  well,  and  every  truant  knew  : 
Well  had  the  boding  tremblers  learned  to  trace 
The  day's  disasters  in  his  morning  face  ; 
Full  well  they  laugh'd  with  counterfeited  glee 
At  all  his  jokes,  for  many  a  joke  had  he  ; 
Full  well  the  busy  whisper  circling  round, 
Convey'd  the  dismal  tidings  when  he  frown'd  : 
Yet  he  was  kind,  or,  if  severe  in  aught, 
The  love  he  bore  to  learning  was  in  fault  ; 
The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew, 
'Twas  certain  he  could  write  and  cipher  too  ; 
Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage, 
And  e'en  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge  : 
In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  own'd  his  skill, 
For,  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still  ; 
While  words  of  learned  length  and  thund'ring  sound 
Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around — 
And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew, 
That  one  small  head  could  carry  all  he  knew." 

There  are  certain  whimsical  traits  in  the  char- 
acter of  Byrne,  not  given  in  the  foregoing  sketch. 
He  was  fond  of  talking  of  his  vagabond  wander- 
ings in  foreign  lands,  and  had  brought  with  him 
from  the  wars  a  world  of  campaigning  stories,  of 
which  he  was  generally  the  hero,  and  which  he 
would  deal  forth  to  his  wondering  scholars  when 
he  ought  to  have  been  teaching  them  their  les- 
sons. These  travellers'  tales  had  a  powerful  ef- 
fect upon  the  vivid  imagination  of  Goldsmith,  and 
awakened  an  unconquerable  passion  for  wander- 
ing and  seeking  adventure; 


Byrne  was,  moreover,  of  a  romantic  vein,  and 
exceedingly  superstitious.  He  was  deeply  versed 
in  the  fairy  superstitions  which  abound  in  Ireland, 
all  which  he  professed  implicitly  to  believe.  Un- 
der his  tuition  Goldsmith  soon  became  almost  as 
great  a  proficient  in  fairy  lore.  From  this  branch 
of  good-for-nothing  knowledge,  his  studies,  by  an 
easy  transition,  extended  to  the  histories  of  rob- 
bers, pirates,  smugglers,  and  the  whole  race  of 
Irish  rogues  and  rapparees.  Everything,  in 
short,  that  savored  of  romance,  fable,  and  adven- 
ture was  congenial  to  his  poetic  mind,  and  took 
instant  root  there  ;  but  the  slow  plants  of  useful 
knowledge  were  apt  to  be  overrun,  if  not  choked, 
by  the  weeds  of  his  quick  imagination. 

Another  trait  of  his  motley  preceptor,  Byrne, 
was  a  disposition  to  dabble  in  poetry,  and  this 
likewise  was  caught  by  his  pupil.  Before  he 
was  eight  years  old  Goldsmith  had  contracted  a 
habit  of  scribbling  verses  on  small  scraps  of  pa- 
per, which,  in  a  little  while,  he  would  throw  into 
the  fire.  A  few  of  these  sybilline  leaves,  how- 
ever, were  rescued  from  the  flames  and  conveyed 
to  his  mother.  The  good  woman  read  them  with 
a  mother's  delight,  and  saw  at  once  that  her  son 
was  a  genius  and  a  poet.  From  that  time  she 
beset  her  husband  with  solicitations  to  give  the 
boy  an  education  suitable  to  his  talents.  The 
worthy  man  was  already  straitened  by  the  costs 
of  instruction  of  his  eldest  son  Henry,  and  had  in- 
tended to  bring  his  second  son  up  to  a  trade  ;  but 
the  mother  would  listen  to  no  such  thing  ;  as 
usual,  her  influence  prevailed,  and  Oliver,  instead 
of  being  instructed  in  some  humble  but  cheerful 
and  gainful  handicraft,  was  devoted  to  poverty 
and  the  Muse. 

A  severe  attack  of  the  srnall-pox  caused  him  to 
be  taken  from  under  the  care  of  his  story-telling 
preceptor,  Byrne.  His  malady  had  nearly  proved 
fatal,  and  his  face  remained  pitted  through  life. 
On  his  recovery  he  was  placed  under  the  charge 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Griffin,  schoolmaster  of  Elphin, 
in  Roscommon,  and  became  an  inmate  in  the 
house  of  his  uncle,  John  Goldsmith,  Esq.,  of  Bal- 
lyoughter,  in  that  vicinity.  He  now  entered  upon 
studies  of  a  higher  order,  but  without  making 
any  uncommon  progress.  Still  a  careless,  easy 
facility  of  disposition,  an  amusing  eccentricity  of 
manners,  and  a  vein  of  quiet  and  peculiar  humor, 
rendered  him  a  general  favorite,  and  a  trifling  in- 
cident soon  induced  his  uncle's  family  to  concur 
in  his  mother's  opinion  of  his  genius. 

A  number  of  young  folks  had  assembled  at  his 
uncle's  to  dance.  •  One  of  the  company,  named 
Cummings,  played  on  the  violin.  In  the  course 
of  the  evening  Oliver  undertook  a  hornpipe.  His 
short  and  clumsy  figure,  and  his  face  pitted  and 
discolored  with  the  small-pox,  rendered  him  a  lu- 
dicrous figure  in  the  eyes  of  the  musician,  who 
made  merry  at  his  expense,  dubbing  him  his  little 
/Esop.  Goldsmith  was  nettled  by  the  jest,  and, 
stopping  short  in  the  hornpipe,  exclaimed, 

"  Our  herald  hath  proclaimed  this  saying, 
See  ^Esop  dancing,  and  his  monkey  playing." 

The  repartee  was  thought  wonderful  for  a  boy 
of  nine  years  old,  and  Oliver  became  forthwith 
the  wit  and  the  bright  genius  of  the  family.  It 
was  thought  a  pity  he  should  not  receive  the  same 
advantages  with  his  elder  brother  Henry,  who 
had  been  sent  to  the  University  ;  and,  as  his 
father's  circumstances  would  not  afford  it,  several 
of  his  relatives,  spurred  on  by  the  representations 
of  his  mother,  agreed  to  contribute  toward  the 
expense.  The  greater  part,  however,  was  bornp 


182 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


by  his  uncle,  the  Rev.  Thomas  Contarine.  This 
worthy  man  had  been  the  college  companion  of 
Bishop  Berkeley,  and  was  possessed  of  moderate 
means,  holding  the  living  of  Carrick-on-Shannon. 
He  had  married  the  sister  of  Goldsmith's  father, 
but  was  now  a  widower,  with  an  only  child,  a 
daughter,  named  Jane.  Contarine  was  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  with  a  generosity  beyond  his  means. 
He  took  Goldsmith  into  favor  from  his  infancy  ; 
his  house  was  open  to  him  during  the  holidays  ; 
his  daughter  Jane,  two  years  older  than  the  poet, 
was  his  early  playmate  ;  and  uncle  Contarine  con- 
tinued to  the  last  one  of  his  most  active,  unwaver- 
ing, and  generous  friends. 

Fitted  out  in  a  great  measure  by  this  consid- 
erate relative,  Oliver  was  now  transferred  to 
schools  of  a  higher  order,  to  prepare  him  for  the 
University  ;  first  to  one  at  Athlone,  kept  by  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Campbell,  and,  at  the  end  of  two  years, 
to  o'ne  at  Edgeworthstown,  under  the  superin- 
tendence of  the  Rev.  Patrick  Hughes. 

Even  at  these  schools  his  proficiency  does  not 
appear  to  have  been  brilliant.  He  was  indolent 
and  careless,  however,  rather  than  dull,  and,  on 
the  whole,  appears  to  have  been  well  thought  of 
by  his  teachers.  In  his  studies  he  inclined  tow- 
ard the  Latin  poets  and  historians  ;  relished 
Ovid  and  Horace,  and  delighted  in  Livy.  He  ex- 
ercised himself  with  pleasure  in  reading  and 
translating  Tacitus,  and  was  brought  to  pay  at- 
tention to  style  in  his  compositions  by  a  reproof 
from  his  brother  Henry,  to  whom  he  had  written 
brief  and  confused  letters,  and  who  told  him  in 
reply,  that  if  he  had  but  little  to  say,  to  endeavor 
to  say  that  little  well. 

The  career  of  his  brother  Henry  at  the  Univer- 
sity was  enough  to  stimulate  him  to  exertion.  He 
seemed  to  be  realizing  all  his  father's  hopes,  and 
was  winning  collegiate  honors  that  the  good  man 
considered  indicative  of  his  future  success  in  life. 

In  the  meanwhile  Oliver,  if  not  distinguished 
among  his  teachers,  was  popular  among  his 
schoolmates.  He  had  a  thoughtless  generosity 
extremely  captivating  to  young  hearts  ;  his  tem- 
per was  quick  and  sensitive,  and  easily  offended  ; 
but  his  anger  was  momentary,  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  harbor  resentment.  He  was  the 
leader  of  all  boyish  sports  and  athletic  amuse- 
ments, especially  ball-playing,  and  he  was  fore- 
most in  all  mischievous  pranks.  Many  years  after- 
ward, an  old  man,  Jack  Fitzimmons,  one  of  the 
directors  of  the  sports  and  keeper  of  the  ball- 
court  at  Ballymahon,  used  to  boast  of  having  been 
schoolmate  of  "  Noll  Goldsmith,"  as  he  called 
him,  and  would  dwell  with  vainglory  on  one  of 
their  exploits,  in  robbing  the  orchard  of  Tirlick- 
en,  an  old  family  residence  of  Lord  Annaly. 
The  exploit,  however,  had  nearly  involved  disas- 
trous consequences  ;  for  the  crew  of  juvenile 
depredators  were  captured,  like  Shakespeare  and 
his  deer-stealing  colleagues,  and  nothing  but  the 
respectability  of  Goldsmith's  connections  saved 
him  from  the  punishment  that  would  have  await- 
ed more  plebeian  delinquents. 

An  amusing  incident  is  related  as  occurring  in 
Goldsmith's  last  journey  homeward  from  Edge- 
worthstown. His  father's  house  was  about  twenty 
miles  distant  ;  the  road  lay  through  a  rough 
country,  .mpa3Sable  for  carriages.  Goldsmith 
procured  a  horse  for  the  journey,  and  a  friend 
furnished  him  with  a  guinea  for  travelling  ex- 
penses. He  was  but  a  stripling  of  sixteen,  and 
being  thus  suddenly  mounted  on  horseback,  with 
money  in  his  pocket,  it  is  no  wonder  that  his  head 
was  turned.  He  determined  to  play  .the  man,  and 


to  spend  his  money  in  independent  traveller's 
style.  Accordingly,  instead  of  pushing  directly 
for  home,  he  halted  for  the  night  at  the  little  town 
of  Ardagh,  and,  accosting  the  first  person  he 
met,  inquired,  with  somewhat  of  a  consequential 
air,  for  the  best  house  in  the  place.  Unluckily, 
the  person  he  had  accosted  was  one  Kelly,  a  no- 
torious wag,  who  was  quartered  in  the  family  of 
one  Mr.  Featherstone,  a  gentleman  of  fortune. 
Amused  with  the  self-consequence  of  the  strip- 
ling, and  willing  to  play  off  a  practical  joke  at  his 
expense,  he  directed  him  to  what  was  literally 
"  the  best  house  in  the  place,"  namely,  the  family 
mansion  of  Mr.  Featherstone.  Goldsmith  accord- 
ingly rode  up  to  what  he  supposed  to  be  an  inn, 
ordered  his  horse  to  be  taken  to  the  stable,  walk- 
ed into  the  parlor,  seated  himself  by  the  fire,  and 
demanded  what  he  could  have  for  supper.  On 
ordinary  occasions  he  was  diffident  and  even 
awkward  in  his  manners,  but  here  he  was  "  at 
ease  in  his  inn,"  and  felt  called  upon  to  show  his 
manhood  and  enact  the  experienced  traveller. 
His  person  was  by  no  means  calculated  to  play 
off  his  pretensions,  for  he  was  short  and  thick, 
with  a  pock-marked  face,  and  an  air  and  carriage 
by  no  means  of  a  distinguished  cast.  The  owner 
of  the  house,  however,  soon  discovered  his  whim- 
sical mistake,  and,  being  a  man  of  humor,  deter- 
mined to  indulge  it,  especially  as  he  accidentally 
learned  that  this  intruding  guest  was  the  son  of 
an  old  acquaintance. 

Accordingly  Goldsmith  was  "  fooled  to  the  top 
of  his  bent,"  and  permitted  to  have  lull  sway 
throughout  the  evening.  Never  was  schoolboy 
more  elated.  When  supper  was  served,  he  most 
condescendingly  insisted  that  the  landlord,  his 
wife  and  daughter  should  partake,  and  ordered  a 
bottle  of  wine  to  crown  the  repast  and  benefit  the 
house.  His  last  flourish  was  on  going  to  bed, 
when  he  gave  especial  orders  to  have  a  hot  cake 
at  breakfast.  His  confusion  and  dismay,  on  dis- 
covering the  next  morning  that  he  had  been  swag- 
gering in  this  free  and  easy  way  in  the  house  of  a 
private  gentleman,  may  be  readily  conceived. 
True  to  his  habit  of  turning  the  events  of  his  life 
to  literary  account,  we  find  this  chapter  of  ludi- 
crous blunders  and  cross  purposes  dramatized 
many  years  afterward  in  his  admirable  comedy 
of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  or  the  Mistakes  of  a 
Night." 


CHAPTER  II. 

IMPROVIDENT  MARRIAGES  IN  THE  GOLDSMITH 
FAMILY — GOLDSMITH  AT  THE  UNIVERSITY — 
SITUATION  OF  A  SIZER— TYRANNY  OF  WILDER, 
THE  TUTOR  —  PECUNIARY  STRAITS  —  STREET 
BALLADS — COLLEGE  RIOT — GALLOWS  WALSH — 
COLLEGE  PRIZE — A  DANCE  INTERRUPTED. 

WHILE  Oliver  was  making  his  way  somewhat 
negligently  through  the  schools,  his  elder  brother 
Henry  was  rejoicing  his  father's  heart  by  his  ca- 
reer at  the  University.  He  soon  distinguished 
himself  at  the  examinations,  and  obtained  a 
scholarship  in  1743.  This  is  a  collegiate  distinc- 
tion which  serves  as  a  stepping-stone  in  any  of 
the  learned  professions,  and  which  leads  to  ad- 
vancement in  the  L'niversity  should  the  individual 
choose  to  remain  there.  His  father  now  trusted 
that  he  would  push  forward  for  that  comfortable 
provision,  a  fellowship,  and  thence  to  higher  dig- 
nities and  emoluments.  Henry,  however,  had  the 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


183 


improvidence  or  the  "  unworldliness"  of  his  race  ; 
returning  to  the  country  during  the  succeeding 
vacation,  he  married  for  love,  relinquished,  of 
course,  all  his  collegiate  prospects  and  advanta- 
ges, set  up  a  school  in  his  father's  neighborhood, 
and  buried  his  talents  and  acquirements  for  the 
remainder  of  his  life  in  a  curacy  of  forty  pounds 
a  year. 

Another  matrimonial  event  occurred  not  long 
afterward  in  the  Goldsmith  family,  to  disturb  the 
equanimity  of  its  worthy  head.  This  was  the 
clandestine  marriage  of  his  daughter  Catherine 
with  a  young  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Hodson, 
who  had  been  confided  to  the  care  of  her  brother 
Henry  to  complete  his  studies.  As  the  youth  was 
of  wealthy  parentage,  it  was  thought  a  lucky 
match  for  the  Goldsmith  family  ;  but  the  tidings 
of  the  event  stung  the  bride's  father  to  the  soul. 
Proud  of  his  integrity,  and  jealous  of  that  good 
name  which  was  his  chief  possession,  he  saw  him- 
self and  his  family  subjected  to  the  degrading  sus- 
picion of  having  abused  a  trust  reposed  in  them 
to  promote  a  mercenary  match.  In  the  first  trans- 
ports of  his  feelings  he  is  said  to  have  uttered  a 
wish  that  his  daughter  might  never  have  a  child 
to  bring  like  shame  and  sorrow  on  her  head.  The 
hasty  wish,  so  contrary  to  the  usual  benignity  of 
the  man,  was  recalled  and  repented  of  almost  as 
soon  as  uttered  ;  but  it  was  considered  baleful  in 
its  effects  by  the  superstitious  neighborhood  ;  for, 
though  his  daughter  bore  three  children,  they  all 
died  before  her. 

A  more  effectual  measure  was  taken  by  Mr. 
Goldsmith  to  ward  off  the  apprehended  imputa- 
tion, but  one  which  imposed  a  heavy  burden  on 
his  family.  This  was  to  furnish  a  marriage  por- 
tion of  four  hundred  pounds,  that  his  daughter 
might  not  be  said  to  have  entered  her  husband's 
family  empty-handed.  To  raise  the  sum  in  cash 
was  impossible  ;  but  he  assigned  to  Mr.  Hodson 
his  little  farm  and  the  income  of  his  tithes  until 
the  marriage  portion  should  be  paid.  In.  the 
mean  time,  as  his  living  did  not  amount  to  ^200 
per  annum,  he  had  to  practise  the  strictest  econ- 
omy to  pay  off  gradually  this  heavy  tax  incurred 
by  his  nice  sense  of  honor. 

The  first  of  his  family  to  feel  the  effects  of  this 
economy  was  Oliver.  The  time  had  now  arrived 
for  him  to  be  sent  to  the  University,  and,  accord- 
ingly, on  the  nth  June,  1747,  when  sixteen  years 
of  age,  he  entered  Trinity  College,  Dublin  ;  but 
his  father  was  no  longer  able  to  place  him  there 
as  a  pensioner,  as  he  had  done  his  eldest  son 
Henry  ;  he  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  enter  him 
as  a  sizer  or  "  poor  scholar."  He  was  lodged  in 
one  of  the  top  rooms  adjoining  the  library  of  the 
building,  numbered  35,  where  it  is  said  his  name 
may  still  be  seen,  scratched  by  himself  upon  a 
window  frame. 

A  student  of  this  class  is  taught  and  boarded 
gratuitously,  and  has  to  pay  but  a  very  small  sum 
tor  his  room.  It  is  expected,  in  return  for  these 
advantages,  that  he  will  be  a  diligent  student,  and 
render  himself  useful  in  a  variety  of  ways.  In 
Trinity  College,  at  the  time  of  Goldsmith's  admis- 
sion, several  derogatory  and  indeed  menial  offices 
were  exacted  from  the  sizer  as  if  the  college 
sought  to  indemnify  itself  lor  conferring  benefits 
by  inflicting  indignities.  He  was  obliged  to  sweep 
part  of  the  courts  in  the  morning,  to  carry  up 
the  dishes  from  the  kitchen  to  the  fellows'  table, 
and  to  wait  in  the  hall  until  that  body  had  dined. 
His  very  dress  marked  the  inferiority  of  the  "  poor 
student"  to  his  happier  classmates.  It  was  a 
black  gown  of  coarse  stuff  without  sleeves,  and  a 


plain  black  cloth  cap  without  a  tassel.  We  can 
conceive  nothing  more  odious  and  ill-judged  than 
these  distinctions,  which  attached  the  idea  of 
degradation  to  poverty,  and  placed  the  indigent 
youth  of  merit  below  the  worthless  minion  of  for- 
tune. They  were  calculated  to  wound  and  irritate 
the  noble  mind,  and  to  render  the  base  mind 
baser. 

Indeed,  the  galling  effect  of  these, servile  tasks 
upon  youths  of  proud  spirits  and  quick  sensibili- 
ties became  at  length  too  notorious  to  be  disre- 
garded. About  fifty  years  since,  on  a  Trinity 
Sunday,  a  number  of  persons  were  assembled  to 
witness  the  college  ceremonies  ;  and  as  a  sizer 
was  carrying  up  a  dish  of  meat  to  the  fellows' 
table,  a  burly  citizen  in  the  crowd  made  some 
sneering  observation  on  the  servility  of  his  office. 
Stung  to  the  quick,  the  high-spirited  youth  in- 
stantly flung  the  dish  and  its  contents  at  the  head 
of  the  sneerer.  The  sizer  was  sharply  reprimand- 
ed for  this  outbreak  of  wounded  pride,  but  the  de- 
grading task  was  from  that  day  forward  very 
properly  consigned  to  menial  hands. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  repugnance  that  Gold- 
smith entered  college  in  this  capacity.  His  shy 
and  sensitive  nature  was  affected  by  the  inferior 
station  he  was  doomed  to  hold  among  his  gay  and 
opulent  fellow-students,  and  he  became,  at  times, 
moody  and  despondent.  A  recollection  of  these 
early  mortifications  induced  him,  in  after  years, 
most  strongly  to  dissuade  his  brother  Henry,  the 
clergyman,  from  sending  a  son  to  college  on  a 
like  footing.  "  If  he  has  ambition,  strong  pas- 
sions, and  an  exquisite  sensibility  of  contempt,  do 
not  send  him  there,  unless  you  have  no  other 
trade  for  him  except  your  own." 

To  add  to  his  annoyances  the  fellow  of  the  col-.  , 
lege  who  had  the  peculiar  control  of  his  studies, 
the  Rev.  Theaker  Wilder,  was  a  man  of  violent 
and  capricious  temper,  and  of  diametrically  op- 
posite tastes.  The  tutor  was  devoted  to  the  exact 
sciences  ;  Goldsmith  was  for  the  classics.  Wilder 
endeavored  to  force  his  favorite  studies  upon  the 
student  by  harsh  means,  suggested  by  his  own 
coarse  and  savage  nature.  He  abused  him  in 
presence  of  the  class  as  ignorant  and  stupid  ;  rid- 
iculed him  as  awkward  and  ugly,  and  at  times  in 
the  transports  of  his  temper  indulged  in  personal 
violence.  The  effect  was  to  aggravate  a  passive 
distaste  into  a  positive  aversion.  Goldsmith  was 
loud  in  expressing  his  contempt  for  mathematics 
and  his  dislike  of  ethics  and  logic  ;  and  the  prej- 
udices thus  imbibed  continued  through  life. 
Mathematics  he  always  pronounced  a  science  to 
which  the  meanest  intellects  were  competent. 

A  truer  cause  of  this  distaste  for  the  severer 
studies  may  probably  be  found  in  his  natural  in- 
dolence -and  ""his  love  of  convivial  pleasures.  "  I 
was  a  lover  of  mirth,  good-humor,  and  even  some- 
times of  fun,"  said  he,  "from  my  childhood." 
He  sang  a  good  song,  was  a  boon  companion,  and 
could  not  resist  any  temptation  to  social  enjoy- 
ment. He  endeavored  to  persuade  himself  that 
learning  and  dulnesswent  hand  in  hand,  and  that 
genius  was  not  to  be  put  in  harness.  Even  in 
riper  years,  when  the  consciousness  of  his  own 
deficiencies  ought  to  have  convinced  him  of  the 
importance  of  early  study,  he  speaks  slightingly 
of  college  honors. 

"  A  lad,"  says  he,  "  whose  passions  are  not 
strong  enough  in  youth  to  mislead  him  from  that 
path  of  science  which  his  tutors,  and  not  his  incli- 
nation, have  chalked  out,  by  four  or  five  years' 
perseverance  will  probably  obtain  every  advantage 
and  honor  his  college  can  bestow.  I  would  com- 


184 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


pare  the  man  whose  youth  has  been  thus  passed 
in  the  tranquillity  of  dispassionate  prudence,  to 
liquors  that  never  ferment,  and,  consequently, 
continue  always  muddy." 

The  death  of  his  worthy  father,  which  took  place 
early  in  1747,  rendered  Goldsmith's  situation  at 
college  extremely  irksome.  His  mother  was  left 
with  little  more  than  the  means  of  providing  for 
the  wants  of  her  household,  and  was  unable  to 
furnish  him  any  remittances.  He  would  have 
been  compelled,  therefore,  to  leave  college,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  occasional  contributions  of 
friends,  the  foremost  among  whom  was  his  gen- 
erous and  warm-hearted  uncle  Contarine.  Still 
these  supplies  were  so  scanty  and  precarious, 
that  in  the  intervals  between  them  he  was  put  to 
great  straits.  He  had  two  college  associates  from 
whom  he  would  occasionally  borrow  small  sums  ; 
one  was  an  early  schoolmate,  by  the  name  of 
Beatty  ;  the  other  a  cousin,  and  the  chosen  com- 
panion of  his  frolics,  Robert  (or  rather  Bob) 
Bryanton,  of  Ballymulvey  House,  near  Ballyma- 
hon.  When  these  casual  supplies  failed  him  he 
was  more  than  once  obliged  to  raise  funds  for  his 
immediate  wants  by  pawning  his  books.  At 
times  he  sank  into  despondency,  but  he  had  what 
he  termed  "  a  knack  at  hoping,"  which  soon 
buoyed  him  up  again.  He  began  now  to  resort 
to  his  poetical  vein  as  a  source  of  profit,  scrib- 
bling street-ballads,  which  he  privately  sold  for 
five  shillings  each  at  a  shop  which  dealt  in  such 
small  wares  of  literature.  He  felt  an  author's 
affection  for  these  unowned  bantlings,  and  we 
are  told  would  stroll  privately  through  the 
streets  at  night  to  hear  them  sung,  listening  to 
the  comments  and  criticisms  of  bystanders,  and 
observing  the  degree  of  applause  which  each 
received. 

Edmund  Burke  was  a  fellow-student  with  Gold- 
smith at  the  college.  Neither  the  statesman  nor 
the  poet  gave  promise  of  their  future  celebrity, 
though  Burke  certainly  surpassed  his  contem- 
porary in  industry  and  application,  and  evinced 
more  disposition  for  self-improvement,  associat- 
ing himself  with  a  number  of  his  fellow-students 
in  a  debating  club,  in  which  they  discussed  lit- 
erary topics,  and  exercised  themselves  in  compo- 
sition. 

Goldsmith  may  likewise  have  belonged  to  this 
association,  but  his  propensity  was  rather  to 
mingle  with  the  gay  and  thoughtless.  On  one  oc- 
casion we  find  him  implicated  in  an  affair  that 
came  nigh  producing  his  expulsion.  A  report 
was  brought  to  college  that  a  scholar  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  bailiffs.  This  was  an  insult  in  which 
every  gownsman  felt  himself  involved.  A  num- 
ber of  the  scholars  flew  to  arms,  and  sallied  forth 
to  battle,  headed  by  a  hair-brained'  fellow  nick- 
named Gallows  Walsh,  noted  for  his  aptness  at 
mischief  and  fondness  for  riot.  The  stronghold 
of  the  bailiff  was  carried  by  storm,  the  scholar 
set  at  liberty,  and  the  delinquent  catchpole 
borne  off  captive  to  the  college,  where,  having 
no  pump  to  put  him  under,  they  satisfied  the 
demands  of  collegiate  law  by  ducking  him  in  an 
•  old  cistern. 

Flushed  with  this  signal  victory,  Gallows  Walsh 
now  harangued  his  followers,  and  proposed  to 
break  open  Newgate,  or  the  Black  Dog,  as  the 
prison  was  called,  and  effect  a  general  jail  deliv- 
ery. He  was  answered  by  shouts  of  concurrence, 
and  away  went  the  throng  of  madcap  youngsters, 
fully  bent  upon  putting  an  end  to  the  tyranny  of 
law.  They  were  joined  by  the  mob  of  the  city, 
and  made  an  attack  upon  the  prison  with  true 


Irish  precipitation  and  thoughtlessness,  never  hav- 
ing provided  themselves  with  cannon  to  batter  its 
stone  walls.  A  few  shots  from  the  prison  brought 
them  to  their  senses,  and  they  beat  a  hasty  re- 
treat, two  of  the  townsmen  being  killed,  and  sev- 
eral wounded. 

A  severe  scrutiny  of  this  affair  took  place  at  the 
University.  Four  students,  who  had  been  ring- 
leaders, were  expelled  ;  four  others,  who  had  been 
prominent  in  the  affray,  were  publicly  admonish- 
ed ;  among  the  latter  was  the  unlucky  Gold- 
smith. 

To  make  up  for  this  disgrace,  he  gained,  with- 
in a  month  afterward,  one  of  the  minor  prizes  of 
the  college.  It  is  true  it  was  one  of  the  very  small- 
est, amounting  in  pecuniary  value  to  but  thirty 
shillings,  but  it  was  the  first  distinction  he  had 
gained  in  his  whole  collegiate  career.  This  turn 
of  success  and  sudden  influx  of  wealth  proved  too 
much  for  the  head  of  our  poor  student.  He  forth- 
with gave  a  supper  and  dance  at  his  chamber  to 
a  number  of  young  persons  of  both  sexes  from  the 
city,  in  direct  violation  of  college  rules.  The  un- 
wonted sound  of  the  fiddle  reached  the  ears  of 
the  implacable  Wilder.  He  rushed  to  the  scene 
of  unhallowed  festivity,  inflicted  corporal  punish- 
ment on  the  "  father  of  the  feast,"  and  turned  his 
astonished  guests  neck  and  heels  out  of  doors. 

This  filled  the  measure  of  poor  Goldsmith's  hu- 
miliations ;  he  felt  degraded  both  within  college 
and  without.  He  dreaded  the  ridicule  of  his  fellow- 
students  for  the  ludicrous  termination  of  his  orgie, 
and  he  was  ashamed  to  meet  his  city  acquaintances 
after  the  degrading  chastisement  received  in  their 
presence,  and  after  their  own  ignominious  expul- 
sion. Above  all,  he  felt  it  impossible  to  submit  any 
longer  to  the  insulting  tyranny  of  Wilder  ;  he  de- 
termined, therefore,  to  leave,  not  merely  the  col- 
lege, but  also  his  native  land,  and  to  bury  what 
he  conceived  to  be  his  irretrievable  disgrace  in 
some  distant  country.  He  accordingly  sold  his 
books  and  clothes,  and  sallied  forth  from  the  col- 
lege walls  the  very  next  day,  intending  to  embark 
at  Cork  for — he  scarce  knew  where — America,  or 
any  other  part  beyond  sea.  With  his  usual  heed- 
less imprudence,  however,  he  loitered  about  Dub- 
lin until  his  finances  were  reduced  to  a  shilling  ; 
with  this  amount  of  specie  he  set  out  on  his  jour- 
ney. 

For  three  whole  days  he  subsisted  on  his  shil- 
ling ;  when  that  was  spent,  he  parted  with  some 
of  the  clothes  from  his  back,  until,  reduced  almost 
to  nakedness,  he  was  four-and-twenty  hours  with- 
out food,  insomuch  that  he  declared  a  handful  of 
gray  peas,  given  to  him  by  a  girl  at  a  wake,  was  one 
of  th,e  most  delicious  repasts  he  had  ever  tasted. 
Hunger,  fatigue,  and  destitution  brought  down 
his  spirit  and  calmed  his  anger.  Fain  would  he 
have  retraced  his  steps,  could  he  have  clone  so 
with  any  salvo  for  the  lingerings  of  his  pride.  In 
his  extremity  he  conveyed  to  his  brother  Henry 
information  of  his  distress,  and  of  the  rash  pro- 
ject on  which  he  had  set  out.  His  affectionate 
brother  hastened  to  his  relief  ;  furnished  him  with 
money  and  clothes  ;  soothed  his  feelings  with  gen- 
tle counsel  ;  prevailed  upon  him  to  return  to  col- 
lege, and  effected  an  indifferent  reconciliation  be- 
tween him  and  Wilder. 

After  this  irregular  sally  upon  life  he  remained 
nearly  two  years  longer  at  the  University,  giving 
proofs  of  talent  in  occasional  translations  irom  the 
classics,  for  one  ot  which  he  received  a  premium, 
awarded  only  to  those  who  are  the  h'rst  in  literary 
merit.  Still  he  never  made  much  figure  at  col- 
i  lege,  his  natural  disinclination  to  study  being  in- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


185 


creased  by  the  harsh  treatment  he  continued  to 
experience  from  his  tutor. 

Among  the  anecdotes  told  of  him  while  at  col- 
lege is  one  indicative  of  that  prompt  but  thought- 
less and  often  whimsical  benevolence  which 
throughout  life  formed  one  of  the  most  eccentric 
yet  endearing  points  of  his  character.  He  was 
engaged  to  breakfast  one  clay  with  a  college  inti- 
mate, but  failed  to  make  his  appearance.  His 
friend  repaired  to  his  room,  knocked  at  the  door, 
and  was  bidden  to  enter.  To  his  surprise,  he 
found  Goldsmith  in  his  bed,  immersed  to  his  chin 
in  feathers.  A  serio-comic  story  explained  the 
circumstance.  In  the  course  of  the  preceding 
evening's  stroll  he  had  met  with  a  woman  with 
five  children,  who  implored  his  charity.  Her 
husband  was  in  the  hospital  ;  she  was  just  from 
the  country,  a  stranger,  and  destitute,  without 
food  or  shelter  for  her  helpless  offspring.  This 
was  too  much  for  the  kind  heart  of  Goldsmith. 
He  was  almost  as  poor  as  herself,  it  is  true,  and 
had  no  money  in  his  pocket  ;  but  he  brought  her 
to  the  college  gate,  gave  her  the  blankets  from 
his  bed  to  cover  her  little  brood,  and  part  of  his 
clothes  for  her  to  sell  and  purchase  food  ;  and, 
finding  himself  cold  during  the  night,  had  cut 
open  his  bed  and  buried  himself  among  the  feath- 
ers. 

At  length,  on  the  27th  of  February,  1749,  O.  S., 
he  was  admitted  to  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of 
Arts,  and  took  his  final  leave  of  the  University. 
He  was  freed  from  college  rule,  that  emancipa- 
tion so  ardently  coveted  by  the  thoughtless  stu- 
dent, and  which  too  generally  launches  him  amid 
the  cares,  the  hardships,  ami  vicissitudes  of  life. 
He  was  freed,  too,  from  the  brutal  tyranny  of 
Wilder.  If  his  kind  and  placable  nature  could 
retain  any  resentment  for  past  injuries,  it  might 
have  been  gratified  by  learning  subsequently  that 
the  passionate  career  of  Wilder  was  terminated  by 
a  violent  death  in  the  course  of  a  dissolute  brawl  ; 
but  Goldsmith  took  no  delight  in  the  misfortunes 
even  of  his  enemies. 

•  He  now  returned  to  his  friends,  no  longer  the 
student  to  sport  away  the  happy  interval  of  vaca- 
tion, but  the  anxious  man,  who  is  henceforth  to 
shift  for  himself  and  make  his  way  through  the 
world.  In  fact,  he  had  no  legitimate  home  to 
return  to.  At  the  death  of  his  father,  the  paternal 
house  at  Lissoy,  in  which  Goldsmith  had  passed 
his  childhood,  had  been  taken  by  Mr.  Hodson, 
who  had  married  his  sister  Catherine.  His 
mother  had  removed  to  Ballymahon,  where  she 
occupied  a  small  house,  and  had  to  practise  the 
severest  frugality.  His  elder  brother  Henry  serv- 
ed the  curacy  and  taught  the  school  of  his  late 
father's  parish,  and  lived  in  narrow  circum- 
stances at  Goldsmith's  birthplace,  the  old  goblin- 
house  at  Pallas. 

None  of  his  relatives  were  in  circumstances  to 
aid  him  with  anything  more  than  a  temporary 
home,  and  the  aspect  of  every  one  seemed  some- 
what changed.  In  fact,  his  career  at  college  had 
disappointed  his  friends,  and  they  began  to  doubt 
his  being  the  great  genius  they  had  fancied  him. 
He  whimsically  alludes  to  this  circumstance  in 
that  piece  of  autobiography,  "  The  Man  in 
Black,"  in  the  Citizen  of  the  World. 

"  The  first  opportunity  my  father  had  of  find- 
ing his  expectations  disappointed  was  in  the  mid- 
dling figure  I  made  at  the  University  ;  he  had 
flattered  himself  that  he  should  soon  see  me  rising 
into  the  foremost  rank  in  literary  reputation,  but 
was  mortified  to  find  me  utterly  unnoticed  and 
unknown.  His  disappointment  might  have  been 


partly  ascribed  to  his  having  overrated 'my  tal- 
ents, and  partly  to  my  dislike  of  mathematical 
reasonings  at  a  time  when  my  imagination  and 
memory,  yet  unsatisfied,  were  more  eager  after 
new  objects  than  desirous  of  reasoning  upon  those 
I  knew.  This,  however,  did  not  please  my  tu- 
tors, who  observed,  indeed,  that  I  was  a  little 
dull,  but  at  the  same  time  allowed  that  I  seemed 
to  be  very  good-natured,  and  had.no  harm  in 
me."* 

The  only  one  of  his  relatives  who  did  not  ap- 
pear to  lose  faith  in  him  was  his  uncle  Contarine. 
This  kind  and  considerate  man,  it  is  said,  saw  in 
him  a  warmth  of  heart  requiring  some  skill  to  di- 
rect, and  a  latent  genius  that  wanted  time  to  ma- 
ture, and  these  impressions  none  of  his  subse- 
quent follies  and  irregularities  wholly  obliter- 
ated. His  purse  and  affection,  therefore,  as  well 
as  his  house,  were  now  open  to  him,  and  he  be- 
came his  chief  counsellor  and  director  after  his 
father's  death.  He  urged  him  to  prepare  for 
holy  orders,  and  others  of  his  relatives  concurred 
in  the  advice.  Goldsmith  had  a  settled  repug- 
nance to  a  clerical  life.  This  has  been  ascribed 
by  some  to  conscientious  scruples,  not  consider- 
ing himself  of  a  temper  and  frame  of  mind  for 
such  a  sacred  office  ;  others  attributed  it  to  his 
roving  propensities,  and  his  desire  to  visit  foreign 
countries  ;  he  himself  gives  a  whimsical  objec- 
tion in  his  biography  of  the  "Man  in  Black": 
"  To  be  obliged  to  wear  a  long  wig  when  I  liked 
a  short  one,  or  a  black  coat  when  I  generally 
dressed  in  brown,  I  thought  such  a  restraint  upon 
my  liberty  that  I  absolutely  rejected  the  propo- 
sal." 

In  effect,  however,  his  scruples  were  overruled, 
and  he  agreed  to  qualify  himself  tor  the  office. 
He  was  now  only  twenty-one,  and  must  pass  two 
years  of  probation.  They  were  two  years  of 
rather  loitering,  unsettled  life.  Sometimes  he 
was  at  Lissoy,  participating  with  thoughtless  en- 
joyment in  the  rural  sports  and  occupations  of  his 
brother-in-law,  Mr.  Hodson  ;  sometimes  he  was 
with  his  brother  Henry,  at  the  old  goblin  man- 
sion at  Pallas,  assisting  him  occasionally  in  his 
school.  The  early  marriage  and  unambitious  re- 
tirement of  Henry,  though  so  subversive  of  the 
fond  plans  of  his  father,  had  proved  happy  in  their 
results.  He  was  already  surrounded  by  a  bloom- 
ing family  ;  he  was  contented  with  his  lot,  beloved 
by  his  parishioners,  and  lived  in  the  daily  prac- 
tice of  all  the  amiable  virtues,  and  the  immediate 
enjoyment  of  their  reward.  Of  the  tender  affec- 
tion inspired  in  the  breast  of  Goldsmith  by  the 
constant  kindness  of  this  excellent  brother,  and 
of  the  longing  recollection  with  which,  in  the 
lonely  wanderings  of  after  years,  he  looked  back 
upon  "this  scene  of  domestic  felicity,  we  have  a 
touching  instance  in  the  well-known  opening  to 
his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller"  : 

"  Remote,  unfriended,  melancholy,  slow, 

Or  by  the  lazy  Scheld  or  wandering  Po  ; 
*  *    '        *  *         *    "        * 

Where'er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 
My  heart  untravell'd  fondly  turns  to  thee  ; 
Still  to  my  brother  turns  with  ceaseless  pain, 
And  drags  at  each  remove  a  lengthening  chain. 

Eternal  blessings  crown  my  earliest  friend. 
And  round  his  dwelling  guardian  saints  attend  ; 
Bless'd  be  that  spot,  where  cheerful  guests  retire 
To  pause  from  toil,  and  trim  their  evening  fire  ; 
Bless'd  that  abode,  where  want  and  pain  repair, 
And  every  stranger  finds  a  ready  chair  : 


*  Citizen  of  the  World,  Letter  xxvii. 


ISC 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


Bless'd  be  those  feasts  with  simple  plenty  crown'd, 

Where  all  the  ruddy  family  around 

Laugh  at  the  jests  or  pranks  that  never  fail, 

Or  sigh  with  pity  at  some  mournful  tale  ; 

Or  press  the  bashful  stranger  to  his  food, 

And  learn  the  luxury  of  doing  good." 

During  this  loitering  life  Goldsmith  pursued  no 
study,  but  rather  amused  himself  with  miscella- 
neous reading  ;  such  as  biography,  travels,  poetry, 
novels,  plays — everything,  in  short,  that  adminis- 
tered to  the  imagination.  Sometimes  he  strolled 
along  the  banks  of  the  river  Inny,  where,  in  after 
years,  when  he  had  become  famous,  his  favorite 
seats  and  haunts  used  to  be  pointed  out.  Often 
he  joined  in  the  rustic  sports  of  the  villagers,  and 
became  adroit  at  throwing  the  sledge,  a  favorite 
feat  of  activity  and  strength  in  Ireland.  Recol- 
lections of  these  "  healthful  sports"  we  find  in  his 
"  Deserted  Village"  : 

"  How  often  have  I  bless'd  the  coming  day, 
When  toil  remitting  lent  its  turn  to  play. 
And  all  the  village  train,  from  labor  free, 
Led  up  their  sports  beneath  the  spreading  tree  : 
And  many  a  gambol  frolicked  o'er  the  ground, 
And  sleights  of  art  and  feats  of  strength  went  round. ' ' 

A  boon  companion  in  all  his  rural  amusements 
was  his  cousin  and  college  crony,  Robert  Bryan- 
ton,  with  whom  he  sojourned  occasionally  at 
Ballymulvey  House  in  the  neighborhood.  They 
used  to  make  excursions  about  the  country  on 
foot,  sometimes  fishing,  sometimes  hunting  otter 
in  the  Inny.  They  got  up  a  country  club  at  the 
little  inn  of  Ballymahon,  of  which  Goldsmith  soon 
became  the  oracle  and  prime  wit,  astonishing  his 
unlettered  associates  by  his  learning,  and  being 
considered  capital  at  a  song  and  a  story.  From 
the  rustic  conviviality  of  the  inn  at  Ballymahon, 
and  the  company  which  used  to  assemble  there, 
it  is  surmised  that  he  took  some  hints  in  after  life 
for  his  picturing  of  Tony  Lumpkin  and  his  asso- 
ciates :  "  Dick  Muggins,  the  exciseman  ;  Jack 
Slang,  the  horse  doctor  ;  little  Arninidab,  that 
grinds  the  music-box,  and  Tom  Twist  that  spins 
the  pewter  platter."  Nay,  it  is  thought  that 
Tony's  drinking  song  at  the  "  Three  Jolly  Pig- 
eons" was  but  a  revival  of  one  of  the  convivial 
catches  at  Ballymahon  : 

"  Then  come  put  the  jorum  about, 

And  let  us  be  merry  and  clever, 
Our  hearts  and  our  liquors  are  stout, 

Here's  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons  for  ever. 
Let  some  cry  of  woodcock  or  hare, 

Your  bustards,  your  ducks,  and  your  widgeons, 
But  of  all  the  gay  birds  in  the  air, 

Here's  a  health  to  the  Three  Jolly  Pigeons. 
Toroddle,  toroddle,  toroll." 

Notwithstanding  all  these  accomplishments  and 
this  rural  popularity,  his  friends  began  to  shake 
their  heads  and  shrug  their  shoulders  when  they 
spoke  of  him  ;  and  his  brother  Henry  noted  with 
anything  but  satisfaction  his  frequent  visits  to  the 
club  at  Ballymahon.  He  emerged,  however,  un- 
scathed from  this  dangerous  ordeal,  more  for- 
tunate in  this  respect  than  his  comrade  Bryanton  ; 
but  he  retained  throughout  life  a  fondness  for 
clubs  ;  often,  too,  in  the  course  of  his  checkered 
career,  he  looked  back  to  this  period  uf  rural 
sports  and  careless  enjoyments  as  one  of  the  fe\v 
sunny  spots  of  his  cloudy  life  ;  and  though  he  ul- 
timately rose  to  associate  with  birds  of  a  finer 
feather,  his  heart  would  still  yearn  in  secret  after 
the  "  THREE  JOLLY  PIGEONS." 


CHAPTER  III. 

GOLDSMITH  REJECTED  BY  THE  BISHOP— SECOND 
SALLY  TO  SEE  THE  WORLD— TAKES  PASSAGE 
FOR  AMERICA— SHIP  SAILS  WITHOUT  HIM — 
RETURN  ON  FIDDLE-BACK  —  A  HOSPITABLE 
FRIEND — THE  COUNSELLOR. 

THE  time  was  now  arrived  for  Goldsmith  to 
apply  for  orders,  and  he  presented  himself  accord- 
ingly before  the  Bishop  of  Elfin  lor  ordination. 
We  have  stated  his  great  objection  to  clerical  life, 
the  obligation  to  wear  a  black  coat  ;  and,  whim- 
sical as  it  may  appear,  dress  seems  in  fact  to 
have  formed  an  obstacle  to  his  entrance  into  the 
church.  He  had  ever  a  passion  for  clothing  his 
sturdy  but  awkward  little  person  in  gay  colors  ; 
and  on  this  solemn  occasion,  when  it  was  to  be 
supposed  his  garb  would  be  of  suitable  gravity,  he 
appeared  luminously  arrayed  in  scarlet  breeches  ! 
He  was  rejected  by  the  bishop  ;  some  say  for 
want  of  sufficient  studious  preparation  ;  his  ram- 
bles and  frolics  with  Bob  Bryanton,  and  his  revels 
with  the  club  at  Ballymahon,  having  been  much 
in  the  way  of  his  theological  studies  ;  others  at- 
tribute his  rejection  to  reports  of  his  college  irreg- 
ularities, which  the  bishop  had  received  from  his 
old  tyrant  Wilder  ;  but  those  who  look  into  the 
matter  with  more  knowing  eyes  pronounce  the 
scarlet  breeches  to  have  been  the  fundamental 
objection.  "  My  friends,"  says  Goldsmith,  speak- 
ing through  his  humorous  representative,  the 
"  Man  in  Black" — "  my  friends  were  now  per- 
fectly satisfied  I  was  undone  ;  and  yet  they  thought 
it  a  pity  for  one  that  had  not  the  least  harm  in 
him,  and  was  so  very  good-natured."  His  uncle 
Contarine,  however,  still  remained  unwavering 
in  his  kindness,  though  much  less  sanguine  in  his 
expectations.  He  now  looked  round  for  a  hum- 
bler sphere  of  action,  and  through  his  influence 
and  exertions  Oliver  was  received  as  tutor  in  the 
family  of  a  Mr.  Flinn,  a  gentleman  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  situation  was  apparently  respecta- 
ble ;  he  had  his  seat  at  the  table,  and  joined  the 
family  in  their  domestic  recreations  and  their 
evening  game  at  cards.  There  was  a  servility, 
however,  in  his  position,  which  was  not  to  his 
taste  ;  nor  did  his  deference  for  the  family  in- 
crease upon  familiar  intercourse.  He  charged  a 
member  of  it  with  unfair  play  at  cards.  A  vio- 
lent altercation  ensued,  which  ended  in  his  throw- 
ing up  his  situation  as  tutor.  On  being  paid  off 
he  found  himself  in  possession  of  an  unheard  of 
amount  of  money.  His  wandering  propensity 
and  his  desire  to  see  the  world  were  instantly  in 
the  ascendency.  Without  communicating  his 
plans  or  intentions  to  his  friends,  he  procured  a 
good  horse,  and  with  thirty  pounds  in  his  pocket 
made  his  second  sally  forth  into  the  world. 

The  worthy  niece  and  housekeeper  of  the  hero 
of  La  Mancha  could  not  have  been  more  surprised 
and  dismayed  at  one  of  the  Don's  clandestine  ex- 
peditions, than  were  the  mother  and  friends  of 
Goldsmith  when  they  heard  of  his  niysterious  de- 
parture. Weeks  elapsed,  and  nothing  was  seen 
or  heard  of  him.  It  was  feared  that  he  had  left 
the  country  on  one  of  his  wandering  freaks,  and 
his  poor  mother  was  reduced  almost  to  despair, 
when  one  day  he  arrived  at  her  door  almost  as  for- 
lorn in  plight  as  the  prodigal  son.  Of  his  thirty- 
pounds  not  a  shilling  was  left  ;  and  instead  of  the 
goodly  steed  on  which  he  had  issued  forth  on  his 
errantry,  he  was  mounted  on  a  sorry  little  pony, 
which  he  had  nicknamed  Fiddle-back.  As  soon 
as  his  mother  was  well  assured  of  his  safety,  she 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


187 


rated  him  soundly  for  his  inconsiderate  conduct. 
His  brothers  and  sisters,  who  were  tenderly  at- 
tached to  him,  interfered,  and  succeeded  in  mol- 
lifying her  ire  ;  and  whatever  lurking  anger  the 
good  dame  might  have,  was  no  doubt  effectually 
vanquished  by  the  following  whimsical  narrative 
which  he  drew  up  at  his  brother's  house  and  dis- 
patched to  her  : 

"  My  dear  mother,  if  you  will  sit  down  and 
calmly  listen  to  what  I  say,  you  shall  be  fully  re- 
solved in  every  one  of  those  many  questions  you 
have  asked  me.  I  went  to  Cork  and  converted 
my  horse,  which  you  prize  so  much  higher  than 
Fiddle-back,  into  cash,  took  my  passage  in  a  ship 
bound  for  America,  and,  at  the  same  time,  paid 
the  captain  for  my  freight  and  all  the  other  ex- 
penses of  my  voyage.  But  it  so  happened  that  the 
wind  did  not  answer  for  three  weeks  ;  and  you 
know,  mother,  that  I  could  not  command  the  ele- 
ments. My  misfortune  was,  that,  when  the  wind 
served,  I  happened  to  be  with  a  party  in  the 
country,  and  my  friend  the  captain  never  inquired 
after  me,  but  set  sail  with  as  much  indifference 
as  if  I  had  been  on  board.  The  remainder  of  my 
time  I  employed  in  the  cily  and  its  environs,  view- 
ing everything  curious,  and  you  know  no  one  can 
starve  while  he  has  money  in  his  pocket. 

"  Reduced,  however,  to  my  last  two  guineas,  I 
began  to  think  of  my  dear  mother  and  friends 
whom  I  had  left  behind  me,  and  so  bought  that 
generous  beast  Fiddle-back,  and  bade  adieu  to 
Cork  with  only  five  shillings  in  my  pocket.  This, 
to  be  sure,  was  but  a  scanty  allowance  for  man 
and  horse  toward  a  journey  of  above  a  hundred 
miles  ;  but  I  did  not  despair,  for  I  knew  I  must 
find  friends  on  the  road. 

"  I  recollected  particularly  an  old  and  faithful 
acquaintance  I  made  at  college,  who  had  often 
and  earnestly  pressed  me  to  spend  a  summer  with 
him,  and  he  lived  but  eight  miles  from  Cork. 
This  circumstance  of  vicinity  he  would  expatiate 
on  to  me  with  peculiar  emphasis.  'We  shall,' 
says  he,  '  enjoy  the  delights  of  both  city  and  coun- 
try, and  you  shall  command  my  stable  and  my 
purse.' 

"  However,  upon  the  way  I  met  a  poor  woman 
all  in  tears,  who  told  me  her  husband  had  been 
arrested  for  a  debt  he  was  not  able  to  pay,  and 
that  his  eight  children  must  now  starve,  bereaved 
as  they  were  of  his  industry,  which  had  been  their 
only  support.  I  thought  myself  at  home,  being 
not  far  from  my  good  friend's  house,  and  there- 
fore parted  with  a  moiety  of  all  my  store  ;  and 
pray,  mother,  ought  I  not  to  have  given  her  the 
other  half  crown,  for  what  she  got  would  be  of 
little  use  to  her  ?  However,  I  soon  arrived  at  the 
mansion  of  my  affectionate  friend,  guarded  by  the 
vigilance  of  a  huge  mastiff,  who  Hew  at  me  and 
would  have  torn  me  to  pieces  but  for  the  assist- 
ance of  a  woman,  whose  countenance  was  not 
less  grim  than  that  of  the  dog  ;  yet  she  with  great 
humanity  relieved  me  from  the  jaws  of  this  Cer- 
berus, and  was  prevailed  on  to  carry  up  my  name 
to  her  master. 

"  Without  suffering  me  to  wait  long,  my  old 
friend,  who  was  then  recovering  from  a  severe 
fit  of  sickness,  came  down  in  his  nightcap,  night- 
gown, and  slippers,  and  embraced  me  with  the 
most  cordial  welcome,  showed  me  in,  and,  after 
giving  me  a  history  of  his  indisposition,  assured 
me  that  he  considered  himself  peculiarly  fortunate 
in  having  under  his  roof  the  man  he  most  loved 
on  earth,  and  whose  stay  with  him  must,  above 
all  things,  contribute  to  perfect  his  recovery.  I 
now  repented  sorely  I  had  not  given  the  poor 


woman  the  other  half  crown,  as  I  thought  all  my 
bills  of  humanity  would  be  punctually  answered 
by  this  worthy  man.  I  revealed  to  him  my  whole 
soul  ;  I  opened  to  him  all  my  distresses  ;  and 
freely  owned  that  I  had  but  one  half  crown  in  my 
pocket  ;  but  that  now,  like  a  ship  after  weather- 
ing out  the  storm,  I  considered  myself  secure  in  a 
sale  and  hospitable  harbor.  He  made  no  answer, 
but  walked  about  the  room,  rubbing  his  hands  as 
one  in  deep  study.  This  I  imputed  to  the  sympa- 
thetic feelings  of  a  tender  heart,  which  increased 
my  esteem  for  him,  and,  as  that  increased,  I  gave 
the  most  favorable  interpretation  to  his  silence.  I 
construed  it  into  delicacy  of  sentiment,  as  if  he 
dreaded  to  wound  my  pride  by  expressing  his 
commiseration  in  words,  leaving  his  generous  con- 
duct to  speak  for  itself. 

"  It  now  approached  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  ; 
and  as  I  had  eaten  no  breakfast,  and  as  my  spirits 
were  raised,  my  appetite  for  dinner  grew  uncom- 
monly keen.  At  length  the  old  woman  came  into 
the  room  with  two  plates,  one  spoon,  and  a  dirty 
cloth,  which  she  laid  upon  the  table.  This  ap- 
pearance, without  increasing  my  spirits,  did  not 
diminish  my  appetite.  My  protectress  soon  re- 
turned with  a  small  bowl  of  sago,  a  small  porrin- 
ger of  sour  milk,  a  loaf  of  stale  brown  bread,  and 
the  heel  of  an  old  cheese  all  over  crawling  with 
mites.  My  friend  apologized  that  his  illness 
obliged  him  to  live  on  slops,  and  that  better  fare 
was  not  in  the  house  ;  observing,  at  the  same 
time,  that  a  milk  diet  was  certainly  the  most 
healthful  ;  and  at  eight  o'clock  he  again  recom- 
mended a  regular  Hie,  declaring  that  for  his  part 
he  would  lie  down  ivith  the  lamb  and  rise  with 
the  lark.  My  hunger  was  at  this  time  so  exceed- 
ingly sharp  that  I  wished  for  another  slice  of  the 
loaf,  but  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed  without  even 
that  refreshment. 

"  This  lenten  entertainment  I  had  received  made 
me  resolve  to  depart  as  soon  as  possible  ;  accord- 
ingly, next  morning,  when  I  spoke  of  going,  he 
did  not  oppose  my  resolution  ;  he  rather  com- 
mended my  design,  adding  some  very  sage  coun- 
sel upon  the  occasion.  '  To  be  sure,'  said  he, 
'  the  longer  you  stay  away  from  your  mother,  the 
more  you  will  grieve  her  and  your  other  friends  ; 
and  possibly  they  are  already  afflicted  at  hearing 
of  this  foolish  expedition  you  have  made.'  Not- 
withstanding all  this,  and  without  any  hope  of 
softening  such  a  sordid  heart,  I  again  renewed 
the  tale  of  my  distress,  and  asking  '  how  he 
thought  f  could  travel  above  a  hundred  miles 
upon  one  half  crown  ?  '  I  begged  to  borrow  a  sin- 
gle guinea,  which  I  assured  him  should  be  repaid 
with  thanks.  '  And  you  know,  sir,'  said  I,  '  it  js 
no  more  than  I  have  done  for  you.  To  which  he 
firmly  answered,  '  Why,  look  you,  Mr.  Goldsmith, 
that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  I  have  paid  you 
all  you  ever  lent  me,  and  this  sickness  of  mine 
has  left  me  bare  of  cash.  But  I  have  bethought 
myself  of  a  conveyance  for  you  ;  sell  your  horse, 
and  i  will  furnish  you  a  much  better  one  to  ride 
on.'  I  readily  grasped  at  his  proposal,  and 
begged  to  see  the  nag  ;  on  which  he  led  me  to  his 
bedchamber,  and  from  under  the  bed  he  pulled 
out  a  stout  oak  stick.  'Here  he  is, 'said  he; 
'  take  this  in  your  hand,  and  it  will  carry  you  to 
your  mother's  with  more  safety  than  such  a  horse 
as  you  ride.'  I  was  in  doubt,  when  I  got  it  into 
my  hand,  whether  I  should  not,  in  the  first  place, 
apply  it  to  his  pate  ;  but  a  rap  at  the  street  door 
made  the  wretch  fly  to  it,  and  when  I  returned  to 
the  parlor,  he  introduced  me,  as  if  nothing  of  the 
kind  had  happened,  to  the  gentleman  who  en- 


188 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


tered,  as  Mr.  Goldsmith,  his  most  ingenious  and 
worthy  triencl,  of  whom  he  had  so  often  heard  him 
speak  with  rapture.  I  could  scarcely  compose 
myself,  and  must  have  betrayed  indignation  in 
my  mien  to  the  stranger,  who  was  a  counsellor-at- 
la\v  in  the  neighborhood,  a  man  of  engaging  as- 
pect and  polite  address. 

"  After  spending  an  hour,  he  asked  my  friend  and 
me  to  dine  with  him  at  his  house.  This  I  declined  at 
first,  as  I  wished  to  have  no  farther  communica- 
tion with  my  hospitable  friend  ;  but  at  the  solici- 
tation of  both  I  at  last  consented,  determined  as  I 
was  by  two  motives  :  one,  that  I  was  prejudiced  in 
favor  of  the  looks  and  manner  of  the  counsellor  ; 
and  the  other,  that  I  stood  in  need  of  a  comfortable 
dinner.  And  there,  indeed,  I  found  everything 
that  I  could  wish,  abundance  without  profusion, 
and  elegance  without  affectation.  In  the  evening, 
when  my  old  friend,  who  had  eaten  very  plenti- 
fully at  his  neighbor's  table,  but  talked  again  of 
lying  down  with  the  lamb,  made  a  motion  to  me 
for  retiring,  our  generous  host  requested  I  should 
take  a  bed  with  him,  upon  which  I  plainly  told 
my  old  friend  that  he  might  go  home  and  take 
care  of  the  horse  he  had  given  me,  but  that  I 
should  never  re-enter  his  doors.  He  went  away 
with  a  laugh,  leaving  me  to  add  this  to  the  other 
little  things  the  counsellor  already  knew  of  his 
plausible  neighbor. 

"  And  now,  my  dear  mother,  I  found  sufficient 
to  reconcile  me  to  all  my  follies  ;  for  here  I 
spent  three  whole  days.  The  counsellor  had 
two  sweet  girls  to  his  daughters,  who  played 
enchantingly  on  the  harpsichord  ;  and  yet  it 
was  but  a  melancholy  pleasure  I  felt  the  first 
time  I  heard  them  ;  for  that  being  the  first 
time  also  that  either  of  them  had  touched  the 
instrument  since  their  mother's  death,  I  saw  the 
tears  in  silence  trickle  down  their  father's  cheeks. 
I  every  day  endeavored  to  go  away,  but  every  clay 
was  pressed  and  obliged  to  stay.  On  my  going, 
the  counsellor  offered  me  his  purse,  with  a  horse 
and  servant  to  convey  me  home  ;  but  the  latter  I 
declined,  and  only  took  a  guinea  to  bear  my 
necessary  expenses  on  the  road. 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  To  Mrs.  Anne  Goldsmith,  Ballymahon." 

Such  is  the  story  given  by  the  poet-errant  of 
this  his  second  sally  in  quest  of  adventures.  We 
cannot  but  think  it  was  here  and  there  touched 
up  a  little  with  the  fanciful  pen  of  the  future  es- 
sayist, with  a  view  to  amuse  his  mother  and  soften 
her  vexation  ;  but  even  in  these  respects  it  is 
valuable  as  showing  the  early  play  of  his  humor, 
and  his  happy  knack  of  extracting  sweets  from 
that  worldly  experience  which  to  others  yields 
nothing  but  bitterness. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

SALLIES  FORTH  AS  A  LAW  STUDENT— STUMBLES 
AT  THE  OUTSET — COUSIN  JANE  AND  THE 
VALENTINE  —  A  FAMILY  ORACLE  —  SALLIES 
FORTH  AS  A  STUDENT  OF  MEDICINE— HOCUS- 
POCUS  OF  A  BOARDING-HOUSE — TRANSFORMA- 
TIONS OF  A  LEG  OF  MUTTON— THE  MOCK 
GHOST — SKETCHES  OF  SCOTLAND — TRIALS  OF 
TOADYISM— A  POET'S  PURSE  FOR  A  CONTI- 

.     NENTAL   TOUR. 

A  NEW  consultation  was  held  among  Gold- 
smith's friends  as  to  his  future  course,  and  it  was 
determined  he  should  try  the  law.  His  uncle 


Contarine  agreed  to  advance  the  necessary  funds, 
and  actually  furnished  him  with  fifty  pounds,  with 
which  he  set  off  for  London,  to  enter  on  his  stud- 
ies at  the  Temple.  Unfortunately,  he  fell  in  com- 
pany at  Dublin  with  a  Roscommon  acquaintance, 
one  whose  wits  had  been  sharpened  about  town, 
who  beguiled  him  into  a  gambling-house,  and 
soon  left  him  as  penniless  as  when  he  bestrode  the 
redoubtable  Fiddle-back. 

He  was  so  ashamed  of  this  fresh  instance  of 
gross  heedlessness  and  imprudence  that  he  re- 
mained some  time  in  Dublin  without  communi- 
cating to  his  friends  his  destitute  condition.  They 
heard  of  it,  however,  and  he  was  invited  back  to 
the  country,  and  indulgently  forgiven  by  his  gen- 
erous uncle,  but  less  readily  by  his  mother,  who 
was  mortified  and  disheartened  at  seeing  all  her 
early  hopes  of  hirn  so  repeatedly  blighted.  His 
brother  Henry,  too,  began  to  lose  patience  at 
these  successive  failures,  resulting,  from  thought- 
less indiscretion  ;  and  a  quarrel  took  place,  which 
for  some  time  interrupted  their  usually  affection- 
ate intercourse. 

The  only  home  where  poor  erring  Goldsmith 
still  received  a  welcome  was  the  parsonage  of  his 
affectionate,  forgiving  uncle.  Here  he  used  to 
talk  of  literature  with  the  good,  simple-hearted 
man,  and  delight  him  and  his  daughter  with  his 
verses.  Jane,  his  early  playmate,  was  now  the 
woman  grown  ;  their  intercourse  was  of  a  more 
intellectual  kind  than  formerly  ;  they  discoursed 
of  poetry  and  music  ;  she  played  on  the  harpsi- 
chord, and  he  accompanied  her  with  his  flute. 
The  music  may  not  have  been  very  artistic,  as  he 
never  performed  but  by  ear  ;  it  had  probably  as 
much  merit  as  the  poetry,  which,  ii  we  may  judge 
by  the  following  specimen,  was  as  yet  but  juvenile  : 

TO  A  YOUNG  LADY  ON  VALENTINE'S  DAY, 

WITH   THE   DRAWING   OF   A   HEART. 

With  submission  at  your  shrine, 
Comes  a  heart  your  Valentine  ; 
From  the  side  where  once  it  grew, 
See  it  panting  flies  to  you. 
Take  it,  fair  one,  to  your  breast, 
Soothe  the  fluttering  thing  to  rest  ; 
Let  the  gentle,  spotless  toy, 
Be  your  sweetest,  greatest  joy  ; 
Every  night  when  wrapp'd  in  sleep. 
Next  your  heart  the  conquest  keep  ; 
Or  if  dreams  your  fancy  move, 
Hear  it  whisper  me  and  love  ; 
Then  in  pity  to  the  swain, 
Who  must  heartless  else  remain, 
Soft  as  gentle  dewy  show'rs. 
Slow  descend  on  April  flow'rs  ; 
Soft  as  gentle  riv'lets  glide, 
Steal  unnoticed  to  my  side  ; 
If  the  gem  you  have  to  spare, 
Take  your  own  and  place  it  there. 

If  this  valentine  was  intended  for  the  fair  Jane, 
and  expressive  of  a  tender  sentiment  indulged  by 
the  stripling  poet,  it  was  unavailing,  as  not  long 
afterward  she  was  married  to  a  Mr.  Lawder. 
We  trust,  however,  it  was  but  a  poetical  passion 
of  that  transient  kind  which  grows  up  in  idleness 
and  exhales  itself  in  rhyme.  While  Oliver  was 
thus  piping  and  poetizing  at  the  parsonage,  his 
uncle  Contarine  received  a  visit  from  Dean  Gold- 
smith of  Cloyne  ;  a  kind  of  magnate  in  the  wide 
but  improvident  family  connection,  throughout 
which  his  word  was  law  and  almost  gospel.  This 
august  dignitary  was  pleased  to  discover  signs  of 
talent  in  Oliver,  and  suggested  that  as  he  had  at- 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


189 


tempted  divinity  and  law  without  success,  he 
should  now  try  physic.  The  advice  came  from 
too  important  a  source  to  be  disregarded,  and  it 
was  determined  to  send  him  to  Edinburgh  to  com- 
mence his  studies.  The  Dean  having  given  the 
advice,  added  to  it,  we  trust,  his  blessing,  but  no 
•money  ;  that  was  furnished  from  the  scantier 
purses  of  Goldsmith's  brother,  his  sister  (Mrs. 
Hodson)  and  his  ever-ready  uncle,  Contarine. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1752  that  Goldsmith  ar- 
rived in  Edinburgh.  His  outset  in  that  city  came 
near  adding  to  the  list  of  his  indiscretions  and 
disasters.  Having  taken  lodgings  at  haphazard, 
he  left  his  trunk  there,  containing  all  his  worldly 
•effects,  and  sallied  forth  to  see  the  town.  After 
sauntering  about  the  streets  until  a  late  hour,  he 
thought  of  returning  home,  when,  to  his  confu- 
sion, he  found  he  had  not  acquainted  himself  with 
the  name  either  of  his  landlady  or  of  the  street  in 
which  she  lived.  Fortunately,  in  the  height  of  his 
whimsical  perplexity,  he  met  the  cawcly  or  porter 
who  had  carried  his  trunk,  and  who  now  served 
him  as  a  guide. 

He  did  not  remain  long  in  the  lodgings  in  which 
he  had  put  up.  The  hostess  was  too  adroit  at 
that  hocus-pocus  of  the  table  which  often  is  prac- 
tised in  cheap  boarding-houses.  No  one  could 
conjure  a  single  joint  through  a  greater  variety  of 
forms.  A  loin  of  mutton,  according  to  Gold- 
smith's account,  would  serve  him  and  two  fellow- 
students  a  whole  week.  "  A  brandered  chop  was 
served  up  one  day,  a  fried  steak  another,  collops 
with  onion  sauce  a  third,  and  so  on  until  the 
fleshy  parts  were  quite  consumed,  when  finally  a 
dish  of  broth  was  manufactured  from  the  bones 
on  the  seventh  day,  and  the  landlady  rested  from 
her  labors."  Goldsmith  had  a  good-humored 
mode,  of  taking  things,  and  for  a  short  time 
amused  himself  with  the  shifts  and  expedients  of 
his  landlady,  which  struck  him  in  a  ludicrous  man- 
ner ;  he  soon,  however,  tell  in  with  fellow-students 
from  his  own  country,  whom  he  joined  at  more 
eligible  quarters. 

He  now  attended  medical  lectures,  and  attached 
himself  to  an  association  of  students  called  the 
Medical  Society.  He  set  out,  as  usual,  with  the 
best  intentions,  but,  as  usual,  soon  fell  into  idle, 
convivial,  thoughtless  habits.  Edinburgh  was  in- 
deed a  place  of  sore  trial  for  one  of  his  tempera- 
ment. Convivial  meetings  were  all  the  vogue,  and 
the  tavern  was  the  universal  rallying-place  of 
good-fellowship.  And  then  Goldsmith's  intima- 
cies lay  chiefly  among  the  Irish  students,  who 
were  always  ready  for  a  wild  freak  and  frolic. 
Among  them  he  was  a  prime  favorite  and  some- 
what of  a  leader,  from  his  exuberance  of  spirits, 
his  vein  of  humor,  and  his  talent  at  singing  an 
Irish  song  and  telling  an  Irish  story. 

His  usual  carelessness  in  money  matters  attend- 
ed him.  Though  his  supplies  from  home  were 
scanty  and  irregular,  he  never  could  bring  him- 
self into  habits  of  prudence  and  economy  ;  often 
he  was  stripped  of  all  his  present  finances  at  play  ; 
often  he  lavished  them  away  in  fits  of  unguarded 
charity  or  generosity.  Sometimes  among  his 
boon  companions  he  assumed  a  ludicrous  swag- 
ger in  money  matters,  which  no  one  afterward 
was  more  ready  than  himself  to  laugh  at.  At  a 
convivial  meeting  with  a  numberof  his  fellow-stu- 
dents, he  suddenly  proposed  to  draw  lots  with  any 
one  present  which  of  the  two  should  treat  the 
•whole  party  to  the  play.  The  moment  the  propo- 
sition had  bolted  from  his  lips,  his  heart  was  in  his 
throat.  "To  my  great  though  secret  joy,"  said 
he,  "  they  all  declined  the  challenge.  Had  it  been 


accepted,  and  had  I  proved  the  loser,  apart  of  my 
wardrobe  must  have  been  pledged  in  order  to 
raise  the  money." 

At  another  ol  these  meetings  there  was  an  ear- 
nest dispute  on  the  question  of  ghosts,  some  being 
firm  believers  in  the  possibility  of  departed  spirits 
returning  to  visit  their  friends  and  familiar  haunts. 
One  of  the  disputants  set  sail  the  next  day  for 
London,  but  the  vessel  put  back  through  the 
stress  of  weather.  His  return  was  unknown  ex- 
cept to  one  of  the  believers  in  ghosts,  who  con- 
certed with  him  a  trick  to  be  played  off  on  the  op- 
posite party.  In  the  evening,  at  a  meeting  of  the 
students,  the  discussion  was  renewed  ;  and  one 
of  the  most  strenuous  opposers  of  ghosts  was 
asked  whether  he  considered  himself  proof  against 
ocular  demonstration  ?  He  persisted  in  his 
scoffing.  Some  solemn  process  of  conjuration 
was  performed,  and  the  comrade  supposed  to  be 
on  his  way  to  London  made  his  appearance.  The 
effect  was  fatal.  The  unbeliever  fainted  at  the 
sight,  and  ultimately  went  mad.  We  have  no  ac- 
count of  what  share  Goldsmith  took  in  this  trans- 
action, at  which  he  was  present. 

The  following  letter  to  his  friend  Bryanton  con- 
tains some  ot  Goldsmith's  impressions  concerning 
Scotland  and  its  inhabitants,  and  gives  indications 
of  that  humor  which  characterized  some  of  his 
later  writings. 

"  Robert  Bryanton,  at  Ballymahon,  Ireland. 
"  EDINBURGH,  September  26,  1753. 

"  MY  DEAR  BOB  :  How  many  good  excuses  (and 
you  know  I  was  ever  good  at  an  excuse)  might  I 
call  up  to  vindicate  my  past  shameiul  silence.  I 
might  tell  how  I  wrote  a  long  letter  on  my  first 
coming  hither,  and  seem  vastly  angry  at  my  not 
receiving  an  answer  ;  I  might  allege  that  business 
(with  business  you  know  I  was  always  pestered) 
had  never  given  me  time  to  finger  a  pen.  But  I 
suppress  those  and  twenty  more  as  plausible,  and 
as  easily  invented,  since  they  might  be  attended 
with  a  slight  inconvenience  of  being  known  to  be 
lies.  Let  me  then  speak  truth.  An  hereditary 
indolence  (I  have  it  from  the  mother's  side)  has 
hitherto  prevented  my  writing  to  you,  and  still  pre- 
vents my  writing  at  least  twenty-five  letters  more, 
due  to  my  friends  in  Ireland.  No  turn-spit-dog 
gets  up  into  his  wheel  with  more  reluctance  than 
I  sit  down  to  write;  yet  no  dog  ever  loved  the 
roast  meat  he  turns  better  than  I  do  him  I  now 
address. 

"  Yet  what  shall  I  say  now  I  am  entered  ?  Shall 
I  tire  you  with  a  description  ot  this  unfruitful 
country  ;  where  I  must  lead  you  over  their  hills 
all  brown  with  heath,  or  their  valleys  scarcely 
able  to  feed  a  rabbit  ?  Man  alone  seems  to  be 
the  only  creature  who  has  arrived  to  the  natural 
size  in  this  poor  soil.  Every  part  of  the  country 
presents  the  same  dismal  landscape.  No  grove, 
nor  brook,  lend  their  music  to  cheer  the  stranger, 
or  make  the  inhabitants  forget  their  poverty.  Yet 
with  all  these  disadvantages  to  call  him  down  to 
humility,  a  Scotchman  is  one  of  the  proudest 
things  alive.  The  poor  have  pride  ever  ready  to 
relieve  them.  If  mankind  should  happen  to  de- 
spise them,  they  are  masters  of  their  own  admira-  \ 
tion,  and  that  they  can  plentifully  bestow  upon 
themselves. 

"  From  their  pride  and  poverty,  as  I  take  it,  re- 
sults one  advantage  this  country  enjoys— namely, 
the  gentlemen  here  are  much  better  bred  than 
among  us.  No  such  character  here  as  our  fox- 
hunters  ;  and  they  have  expressed  great  surprise 


190 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


when  I  informed  them  that  some  men  in  Ireland 
of  one  thousand  pounds  a  year  spend  their  whole 
lives  in  running  after  a  hare,  and  drinking  to  be 
drunk.  Truly  if  such  a  being,  equipped  in  his 
hunting  dress,  came  among  a  circle  of  Scotch 
gentry,  they  would  behold  him  with  the  same  as- 
tonishment that  a  countryman  does  King  George 
on  horseback. 

"  The  men  here  have  generally  high  cheek 
bones,  and  are  lean  and  swarthy,  fond  of  action, 
dancing  in  particular.  Now  that  I  have  men- 
tioned dancing,  let  me  say  something  of  their 
balls,  which  are  very  frequent  here.  When  a 
stranger  enters  the  dancing-hall,  he  sees  one  end 
of  the  room  taken  up  by  the  ladies,  who  sit  dis- 
mally in  a  group  by  themselves  ;  in  the  other  end 
stand  their  pensive  partners  that  are  to  be  ;  but 
no  more  intercourse  between  the  sexes  than  there 
is  between  two  countries  at  war.  The  ladies  in- 
deed may  ogle,  and  the  gentlemen  sigh  ;  but  an 
embargo  is  laid  on  any  closer  commerce.  At 
length,  to  interrupt  hostilities,  the  lady  directress, 
or  intendant,  or  what  you  will,  pitches  upon  a  lady 
and  gentleman  to  walk  a  minuet  ;  which  they  per- 
form with  a  formality  that  approaches  to  despond- 
ence. After  five  or  six  couple  have  thus  walked 
the  gauntlet,  all  stand  up  to  country  dances  ;  each 
gentleman  furnished  with  a  partner  from  the 
aforesaid  lady  directress  ;  so  they  dance  much, 
say  nothing,  an:l  thus  concludes  our  assembly.  I 
told  a  Scotch  gentleman  that  such  profound  si- 
lence resembled  the  ancient  procession  of  the 
Roman  matrons  in  honor  of  Ceres  ;  and  the  Scotch 
gentleman  told  me  (and,  faith,  I  believe  he  was 
right)  that  I  was  a  very  great  pedant  for  my 
pains. 

"  Now  I  am  come  to  the  ladies  ;  and  to  show- 
that  I  love  Scotland,  and  everything  that  belongs 
to  so  charming  a  country,  I  insist  on  it,  and  will 
give  him  leave  to  break  my  head  that  denies  it — 
that  the  Scotch  ladies  are  ten  thousand  times  finer 
and  handsomer  than  the  Irish.  To  be  sure,  now, 
I  see  your  sisters  Betty  and  Peggy  vastly  surprised 
at  my  partiality — but  tell  them  flatly,  I  don't  value 
them — or  their  fine  skins,  or  eyes,  or  good  sense, 

or ,  a  potato  ; — for  I  say,  and  will  maintain  it  ; 

and  as  a  convincing  proof  (I  am  in  a  great  passion) 
of  what  I  assert,  the  Scotch  ladies  say  it  them- 
selves. But  to  be  less  serious  ;  where  will  you 
find  a  language  so  prettily  become  a  pretty  mouth 
as  the  broad  Scotch  ?  And  the  women  here 
speak  it  in  its  highest  purity  ;  for  instance,  teach 
one  of  your  young  ladies  at  home  to  pronounce 
the  '  Whoar  wull  I  gong  ? '  with  a  becoming 
widening  of  mouth,  and  I'll  lay  my  life  they'll 
wound  every  hearer. 

"  We  have  no  such  character  here  as  a  coquet, 
but  alas  !  how  many  envious  prudes  !  Some  days 
ago  I  walked  into  my  Lord  Kilcoubry's  (don't  be 
surprised,  my  lord  is  but  a  glover),*  when  the 
Duchess  of  Hamilton  (that  fair  who  sacrificed  her 
beauty  to  her  ambition,  and  her  inward  peace  to 
a  title  and  gilt  equipage)  passed  by  in  her  chariot  ; 
her  battered  husband,  or  more  properly  the  guar- 
dian of  her  charms,  sat  by  her  side.  Straight 
envy  began,  in  the  shape  of  no  less  than  three 
ladies  who  sat  with  me,  to  find  faults  in  her  fault- 
less form. — '  For  my  part,'  says  the  first,  '  I  think 
what  I  always  thought,  that  the  Duchess  has  too 


*  William  Maclellan,  who  claimed  the  title,  and 
whose  son  succeeded  in  establishing  the  claim  in  1773. 
The  father  is  said  to  have  voted  at  the  election  of  the 
sixteen  Peers  for  Scotland,  and  to  have  sold  gloves 
in  the  lobby  at  this  and  other  public  assemblages. 


much  of  the  red  in  her  complexion.'  '  Madam,  I 
am  of  your  opinion,'  says  the  second  ;  '  I  think 
her  face  has  a  palish  cast  too  much  on  the  delicate 
order.'  '  And  let  me  tell  you,'  added  the  third 
lady,  whose  mouth  was  puckered  up  to  the  size  of 
an  issue,  '  that  the  Duchess  has  fine  lips,  but  she 
wants  a  mouth.' — At  this  every  lady  drew  up  her 
mouth  as  if  going  to  pronounce  the  letter  P. 

"  But  how  ill,  my  Bob,  does  it  become  me  to 
ridicule  women  with  whom  I  have  scarcely  any 
correspondence  !  There  are,  'tis  certain,  hand- 
some women  here  ;  and  'tis  certain  they  have 
handsome  men  to  keep  them  company.  An  ugly 
and  poor  man  issocietyonly  for  himself ;  and  such 
society  the  world  lets  me  enjoy  in  great  abun- 
dance. Fortune  has  given  you  circumstances, 
and  nature  a  person  to  look  charming  in  the  eyes 
of  the  fair.  Nor  do  I  envy  my  dear  Bob  such 
blessings,  while  I  may  sit  down  and  laugh  at  the 
world  and  at  myself — the  most  ridiculous  object 
in  it.  But  you  see  I  am  grown  downright  sple- 
netic, and  perhaps  the  fit  may  continue  till  I  re- 
ceive an  answer  to  this.  I  know  you  cannot  send 
me  much  news  from  Ballymahon,  but  such  as  it  is, 
send  it  all  ;  everything  you  send  will  be  agreeable 
to  me. 

"  Has  George  Conway  put  up  a  sign  yet ;  or  John 
Binley  left  off  drinking  drams  ;  or  Tom  Allen  got 
a  new  wig  ?  But  I  leave  you  to  your  own  choice 
what  to  write.  While  I  live,  know  you  have  a 
true  friend  in  yours,  etc.,  etc. 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  P.S.  Give  my  sincere  respects  (not  compli- 
ments, do  you  mind)  to  your  agreeable  family, 
and  give  my  service  to  my  mother,  if  you  see  her  ; 
for,  as  you  express  it  in  Ireland,  I  have  a  sneaking 

kindness  for  her  still.     Direct  to  me, ,  Student 

in  Physic,  in  Edinburgh." 

Nothing  worthy  of  preservation  appeared  from 
his  pen  during  his  residence  in  Edinburgh  ;  and 
indeed  his  poetical  powers,  highly  as  they  had 
been  estimated  by  his  friends,  had  not  as  yet  pro- 
duced anything  of  superior  merit.  He  made  on 
one  occasion  a  month's  excursion  to  the  High- 
lands. "  I  set  out  the  first  day  on  foot,"  says  he, 
in  a  letter  to  his  uncle  Contarine,  "  but  an  ill-na- 
tured corn  I  have  on  my  toe  has  for  the  future 
prevented  that  cheap  mode  of  travelling  ;  so  the 
second  day  I  hired  a  horse  about  the  size  of  a 
ram,  and  he  walked  away  (trot  he  could  not)  a.3 
pensive  as  his  master." 

During  his  residence  in  Scotland  his  convivial 
talents  gained  him  at  one  time  attentions  in  a  high 
quarter,  which,  however,  he  had  the  good  sense 
to  appreciate  correctly.  "  I  have  spent,"  says  he, 
in  one  of  his  letters,  "  more  than  a  fortnight  every 
second  day  at  the  Duke  of  Hamilton's  ;  but  it 
seems  they  like  me  more  as  a  jester  than  as  a 
companion,  so  I  disdained  so  servile  an  employ- 
ment as  unworthy  my  calling  as  a  physician." 
Here  we  again  find  the  origin  of  another  passage 
in  his  autobiography,  under  the  character  of  the 
"  Man  in  Black,"  wherein  that  worthy  figures  as 
a  flatterer  to  a  great  man.  "  At  first,"  says  he, 
"  I  was  surprised  that  the  situation  of  a  flatterer 
at  a  great  man's  table  could  be  thought  disagree- 
able ;  there  was  no  great  trouble  in  listening  at- 
tentively when  his  lordship  spoke,  and  laughing 
when  he  looked  round  for  applause.  This,  even 
good  manners  might  have  obliged  me  to  perform. 
I  found,  however,  too  soon,  his  lordship  was  a 
greater  dunce  than  myself,  and  from  that  moment 
flattery  was  at  an  end.  I  now  rather  aimed  at 
setting  him  right,  than  at  receiving  his  absurdities 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


with  submission  :  to  flatter  those  we  do  not  know 
is  an  easy  task  ;  but  to  flatter  our  intimate  ac- 
quaintances, all  whose  foibles  are  strongly  in  our 
eyes,  is  drudgery  insupportable.  Every  time  I 
now  opened  rny  lips  in  praise,  my  falsehood  went 
to  my  conscience  ;  his  lordship  soon  perceived  me 
to  be  very  unfit  for  his  service  :  I  was  therefore 
discharged  ;  my  patron  at  the  same  time  being 
graciously  pleased  to  observe  that  he  believed  I 
was  tolerably  good-natured,  and  had  not  the  least 
harm  in  me." 

After  spending  two  winters  at  Edinburgh,  Gold- 
smith prepared  to  finish  his  medical  studies  on 
the  Continent,  for  which  his  uncle  Contarine 
agreed  to  furnish  the  funds.  "  I  intend,"  said  he, 
in  a  letter  to  his  uncle,  "  to  visit  Paris,  where  the 
great  Farheim,  Petit,  and  Du  Hammel  de  Mon- 
ceau  instruct  their  pupils  in  all  the  branches  of 
medicine.  They  speak  French,  and  consequently 
I  shall  have  much  the  advantage  of  most  of  my 
countrymen,  as  I  am  perfectly  acquainted  with 
that  language,  and  few  who  leave  Ireland  are  so. 
I  shall  spend  the  spring  and  summer  in  Paris,  and 
the  beginning  of  next  winter  go  to  Leyden.  The 
great  Albinus  is  still  alive  there,  and  'twill  be 
proper  to  go,  though  only  to  have  it  said  that  we 
nave  studied  in  so  famous  a  university. 

"As  I  shall  not  have  another  opportunity  of  re- 
ceiving money  from  your  bounty  till  my  return  to 
Ireland,  so  I  have  drawn  for  the  last  sum  that  I 
hope  I  shall  ever  trouble  you  for  ;  'tis  £,20.  And 
now,  dear  sir,  let  me  here  acknowledge  the 
humility  of  the  station  in  which  you  found  me  ; 
let  me  tell  how  I  was  despised  by  most,  and  hate- 
ful to  myself.  Poverty,  hopeless  poverty,  was  my 
lot,  and  Melancholy  was  beginning  to  make  me 
her  own.  When  you — but  I  stop  here,  to  inquire 
how  your  health  goes  on  ?  How  does  my  cousin 
Jenny,  and  has  she  recovered  her  late  complaint  ? 
How  does  my  poor  Jack  Goldsmith  ?  I  fear  his 
disorder  is  of  such  a  nature  as  he  won't  easily  re- 
cover. I  wish,  my  dear  sir,  you  would  make  me 
happy  by  another  letter  before  I  go  abroad,  for 
there  I  shall  hardly  hear  from  you.  .  .  .  Give 
my — how  shall  I  express  it  ?  Give  my  earnest 
love  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lawder." 

Mrs.  Lawder  was  Jane,  his  early  playmate — the 
object  of  his  valentine— his  first  poetical  inspira- 
tion. She  had  been  for  some  time  married. 

Medical  instruction,  it  will  be  perceived,  was 
the  ostensible  motive  for  this  visit  to  the  Conti- 
nent, but  the  real  one,  in  all  probability,  was  his 
long-cherished  desire  to  see  foreign  parts.  This, 
however,  he  would  not  acknowledge  even  to  him- 
self, but  sought  to  reconcile  his  roving  propensi- 
ties with  some  grand  moral  purpose.  "  I  esteem 
the  traveller  who  instructs  the  heart,"  says  he, 
in  one  of  his  subsequent  writings,  "  but  despise 
him  who  only  indulges  the  imagination.  A  man 
who  leaves  home  to  mend  himself  and  others  is 
a  philosopher  ;  but  he  who  goes  from  country  to 
country,  juicled  by  the  blind  impulse  of  curiosity, 
is  only  a  vagabond."  He,  of  course,  was  to 
travel  as  a  philosopher,  and  in  truth  his  outfits 
for  a  continental  tour  were  in  character.  "  I 
shall  carry  just  ^33  to  France,"  said  he,  "with 
good  store  of  clothes,  shirts,  etc.,  and  that  with 
economy  will  suffice."  He  forgot  to  make  men- 
tion of  his  flute,  which  it  will  be  found  had  occa- 
sionally to  come  in  play  when  economy  could  not 
replenish  his  purse,  nor  philosophy  find  him  a 
supper.  Thus  slenderly  provided  with  money, 
prudence,  or  experience,  and  almost  as  slightly 
guarded  against  "  hard  knocks"  as  the 'hero  of  La 
Mancha,  whose  head-piece  was  half  iron,  half 


pasteboard,  he  made  his  final  sally  forth  upon  the 
world  ;  hoping  all  things  ;  believing  all  things  : 
little  anticipating  the  checkered  ills  in  store  for 
him  ;  little  thinking  when  he  penned  his  vale- 
dictory letter  to  his  good  uncle  Contarine,  that  he 
was  never  to  see  him  more  ;  never  to  return  after 
all  his  wandering  to  the  friend  of  his  infancy  ; 
never  to  revisit  his  early  and  fondly-remembered 
haunts  at  "  sweet  Lissoy"  and  Ballymahon. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE  AGREEABLE  FELLOW  -  PASSENGERS  —  RISKS 
FROM  FRIENDS  PICKED  UP  BY  THE  WAYSIDE- 
SKETCHES  OF  HOLLAND  AND  THE  DUTCH- 
SHIFTS  WHILE  A  POOR  STUDENT  AT  LEYDEN 
— THE  TULIP  SPECULATION — THE  PROVIDENT 
FLUTE — SOJOURN  AT  PARIS — SKETCH  OF  VOL- 
TAIRE— TRAVELLING  SHIFTS  OF  A  PHILOSOPH- 
IC VAGABOND. 

His  usual  indiscretion  attended  Goldsmith  at 
the  very  outset  of  his  foreign  enterprise.  He  had 
intended  to  take  shipping  at  Leith  ior  Holland  ; 
but  on  arriving  at  that  port  he  found  a  ship 
about  to  sail  tor  Bordeaux,  with  six  agreeable 
passengers,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  probably 
made  at  the  inn.  He  was  not  a  man  to  resist  a 
sudden  impulse  ;  so,  instead  of  embarking  for 
Holland,  he  found  himself  ploughing  the  seas  on 
his  way  to  the  other  side  of  the  Continent.  Scarce- 
ly had  the  ship  been  two  days  at  sea  when  she 
was  driven  by  stress  of  weather  to  Newcastle- 
upon-Tyne.  Here  "  of  course"  Goldsmith  and 
his  agreeable  fellow-passengers  found  it  expedient 
to  go  on  shore  and  "  refresh  themselves  after  the 
fatigues  of  the  voyage."  "  Of  course"  they 
frolicked  and  made  merry  until  a  late  hour  in  the 
evening,  when,  in  the  midst  of  their  hilarity,  the 
door  was  burst  open,  and  a  sergeant  and  twelve 
grenadiers  entered  with  fixed  bayonets,  and  took 
the  whole  convivial  party  prisoners. 

It  seems  that  the  agreeable  companions  with 
whom  our  greenhorn  had  struck  up  such  a  sudden 
intimacy  were  Scotchmen  in  the  French  service, 
who  had  been  in  Scotland  enlisting  recruits  for 
the  French  army. 

In  vain  Goldsmith  protested  his  innocence  ;  he 
was  marched  off  with  his  fellow-revellers  to  prison, 
whence  he  with  difficulty  obtained  his  release  at 
the  end  of  a  fortnight.  With  his  customary 
facility,  however,  at  palliating  his  misadventures, 
he  found  everything  turn  out  for  the  best.  His 
imprisonment  saved  his  life,  for  during  his  deten- 
tion the  ship  proceeded  on  her  voyage,  but  was 
wrecked  at  the  mouth  of  the  Garonne,  and  all  on 
board  perished. 

Goldsmith's  second  embarkation  was  for  Hol- 
land direct,  and  in  nine  days  he  arrived  at  Rotter- 
dam, whence  he  proceeded,  without  any  more  de- 
viations, to  Leyden.  He  gives  a  whimsical  picture, 
in  one  of  his  letters,  of  the  appearance  of  the  Hol- 
landers. "  The  modern  Dutchman  is  quite  a 
different  creature  from  him  of  former  times  :  he 
in  everything  imitates  a  Frenchman  but  in  his 
easy,  disengaged  air.  He  is  vastly  ceremonious, 
and  is,  perhaps,  exactly  what  a  Frenchman  might 
have  been  in  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  Such  are 
the  better  bred.  But  the  downright  Hollander  is 
one  of  the  oddest  figures  in  nature.  Upon  a  lank 
head  of  hair  he  wears  a  half-cocked  narrow  hat, 
laced  with  black  riband  ;  no  coat,  but  seven 


192 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


waistcoats  and  nine  pair  of  breeches,  so  that  his 
hips  reach  up  almost  to  his  armpits.  This  well- 
clothed  vegetable  is  now  fit  to  see  company  or 
make  love.  But  what  a  pleasing  creature  is  the 
object  of  his  appetite  !  why,  she  wears  a  large 
fur  cap,  with  a  deal  of  Flanders  lace  ;  and  for 
every  pair  of  breeches  he  carries,  she  puts  on  two 
petticoats. 

"  A  Dutch  lady  burns  nothing  about  her  phleg- 
matic admirer  but  his  tobacco.  You  must  know, 
sir,  every  woman  carries  in  her  hand  a  stove  of 
coals,  which,  when  she  sits,  she  snugs  under  her 
petticoats,  and  at  this  chimney  dozing  Strephon 
lights  his  pipe."  • 

In  the  same  letter  he  contrasts  Scotland  and 
Holland.  "  There  hills  and  rocks  intercept  every 
prospect  ;  here  it  is  all  a  continued  plain.  There 
you  might  see  a  well-dressed  Duchess  issuing  from 
a  dirty  close,  and  here  a  dirty  Dutchman  inhabit- 
ing a  palace.  The  Scotch  may  be  compared  to  a 
tulip,  planted  in  dung  ;  but  I  can  never  see  a 
Dutchman  in  his  own  house  but  I  think  of  a  mag- 
nificent Egyptian  temple  dedicated  to  an  ox." 

The  country  itself  awakened  his  admiration. 
"Nothing,"  said  he,  "can  equal  its  beauty; 
wherever  I  turn  my  eyes,  fine  houses,  elegant  gar- 
dens, statues,  grottoes,  vistas,  present  themselves  ; 
but  when  you  enter  their  towns  you  are  charmed 
beyond  description.  No  misery  is  to  be  seen 
here  ;  every  one  is  usefully  employed."  And 
again,  in  his  noble  description  in  "  The  Travel- 
ler" : 

"  To  men  of  other  minds  my  fancy  flies, 
Imbosom'd  in  the  deep  where  Holland  lies. 
Methinks  her  patient  sons  before  me  stand, 
Where  the  broad  ocean  leans  against  the  land, 
And,  sedulous  to  stop  the  coming  tide, 
Lift  the  tall  rampire's  artificial  pride. 
Onward,  methinks,  and  diligently  slow, 
The  firm  connected  bulwark  seems  to  grow  ; 
Spreads  its  long  arms  amid  the  watery  roar. 
Scoops  out  an  empire,  and  usurps  the  shore. 
While  the  pent  ocean,  rising  o'er  the  pile, 
Sees  an  amphibious  world  before  him  smile  ; 
The  slow  canal,  the  yellow  blossom'd  vale, 
The  willow-tufted  bank,  the  gliding  sail, 
The  crowded  mart,  the  cultivated  plain, 
A  new  creation  rescued  from  his  reign." 

He  remained  about  a  year  at  Leyden,  attending 
the  lectures  of  Gaubius  on  chemistry  and  Albinus 
on  anatomy  ;  though  his  studies  are  said  to  have 
been  miscellaneous,  and  directed  to  literature 
rather  than  science.  The  thirty-three  pounds  with 
which  he  had  set  out  on  his  travels  were  soon  con- 
sumed, and  he  was  put  to  many  a  shift  to  meet 
his  expenses  until  his  precarious  remittances 
should  arrive.  He  had  a  good  friend  on  these  oc- 
casions in  a  fellow-student  and  countryman, 
named  Ellis,  who  afterward  rose  to  eminence  as 
a  physician.  He  used  frequently  to  loan  small 
sums  to  Goldsmith,  which  were  always  scrupu- 
lously paid.  Ellis  discovered  the  innate  merits  of 
the  poor  awkward  student,  and  used  to  declare  in 
after  life  that  it  was  a  comomn  remark  in  Leyden, 
that  in  all  the  peculiarities  of  Goldsmith,  an  eleva- 
tion of  mind  was  to  be  noted  ;  a  philosophical 
tone  and  manner  ;  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman, 
and  the  language  and  information  of  a  scholar." 

Sometimes,  in  his  emergencies,  Goldsmith  un- 
dertook to  teach  the  English  language.  It  is  true 
he  was  ignorant  of  the  Dutch,  but  he  had  a  smat- 
tering of  the  French,  picked  up  among  the  Irish 
priests  at  Ballymahon.  He  depicts  his  whimsical 
embarrassment  in  this  respect,  in  his  account  in 
the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  of  the  philosophical  vaga- 


\  bond  who  went  to   Holland   to  teach  the  natives 

i  English,   without  knowing  a  word  of   their   own 

•  language.     Sometimes,  when  sorely  pinched,  and 

i  sometimes,  perhaps,  when  flush,  he  resorted  to  the 

gambling  tables,  which  in  those  days  abounded 

|  in   Holland.     His   good    friend    Ellis    repeatedly 

warned  him  against  this  unfortunate  propensity, 

1  but  in  vain.     It  brought  its  own  cure,  or  rather 

i  its   own    punishment,  by   stripping  him   of   every 

shilling. 

Ellis  once  more  stepped  in  to  his  relief  with  a 
true  Irishman's  generosity,  but  with  more  consid- 
erateness  than  generally  characterizes  an  Irish- 
man, for  he  only  granted  pecuniary  aid  on  condi- 
tion of  his  quitting  the  sphere  of  clanger.  Gold- 
smith gladly  consented  to  leave  Holland,  being 
anxious  to  visit  other  parts.  He  intended  to  pro- 
ceed to  Paris  and  pursue  his  studies  there,  and 
was  furnished  by  his  friend  with  money  lor  the 
journey.  Unluckily,  he  rambled  into  the  garden 
of  a  florist  just  before  quitting  Leyden.  The  tulip 
mania  was  still  prevalent  in  Holland,  and  some 
species  of  that  splendid  flower  brought  immense 
prices.  In  wandering  through  the  garden  Gold- 
smith recollected  that  his  uncle  Contarine  was  a 
I  tulip  fancier.  The  thought  suddenly  struck  him 
i  that  here  was  an  opportunity  of  testifying,  in  a 
|  delicate  manner,  his  sense  of  that  generous 
uncle's  past  kindnesses.  In  an  instant  his  hand 
was  in  his  pocket  ;  a  number  of  choice  and  costly 
tulip-roots  were  purchased  and  packed  up  tor  Mr. 
Contarine  ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  paid  for 
them  that  he  bethought  himself  that  he  had  spent 
all  the  money  borrowed  for  his  travelling  ex- 
penses. Too  proud,  however,  to  give  up  his  jour- 
ney, and  too  shamefaced  to  make  another  appeal 
to  his  friend's  liberality,  he  determined  to  travel 
on  foot,  and  depend  upon  chance  and  good  luck 
for  the  means  of  getting  forward  ;  and  it  is  said 
that  he  actually  set  off  on  a  tour  of  the  Continent, 
in  February,  1775,  with  but  one  spare  shirt,  a 
flute,  and  a  single  guinea. 

"  Blessed,"  says  one  of  his  biographers,  "  with 
a  good  constitution,  an  adventurous  spirit,  and 
with  that  thoughtless,  or,  perhaps,  happy  disposi- 
tion which  takes  no  care  for  to-morrow,  he  con- 
tinued his  travels  for  a  long  time  in  spite  of 
innumerable  privations."  In  his  amusing  narra- 
tive of  the  adventures  of  a  "  Philosophic  Vaga- 
bond" in  the  "Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  we  find 
shadowed  out  the  expedients  he  pursued.  "  I  had 
some  knowledge  of  music,  with  a  tolerable  voice  ; 
I  now  turned  what  was  once  my  amusement  into 
a  present  means  of  subsistence.  I  passed  among 
the  harmless  peasants  of  Flanders,  and  among 
such  of  the  French  as  were  poor  enough  to  be 
very  merry,  for  I  ever  found  them  sprightly  in  pro- 
portion to  their  wants.  Whenever  I  approached 
a  peasant's  house  toward  nightfall,  I  played  one 
of  my  merriest  tunes,  and  that  procured  me  not 
only  a  lodging,  but  subsistence  for  the  next  clay  ; 
but  in  truth  I  must  own,  whenever  I  attempted  to 
entertain  persons  of  a  higher  rank,  they  always 
thought  my  performance  odious,  and  never  made 
me  any  return  for  my  endeavors  to  please  them." 
At  Paris  he  attended  the  chemical  lectures  of 
Rouelle,  then  in  great  vogue,  where  he  says  he  J 
witnessed  as  bright  a  circle  of  beauty  as  graced 
the  court  of  Versailles.  His  love  of  theatricals, 
also,  led  him  to  attend  the  performances  of  the 
celebrated  actress  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  with 
which  he  was  greatly  delighted.  He  seems  to 
have  looked  upon  the  state  of  society  with  the  eye 
of  a  philosopher,  but  to  have  read  the  signs  of  the 
times  with  the  prophetic  eye  of  a  poet.  In  his 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


193. 


fambles  about  the  environs  of  Paris  he  was  struck 
with  the  immense  quantities  of  game  running 
about  almost  in  a  tame  state  ;  and  saw  in  those 
costly  and  rigid  preserves  for  the  amusement  and 
luxury  of  the  privileged  few  a  sure  "  badge  of  the 
slavery  of  the  people."  This  slavery  he  predicted 
was  drawing  toward  a  close.  "  When  I  consider 
that  these  parliaments,  the  members  of  which  are 
all  created  by  the  court, and  the  presidents  of  which 
can  only  act  by  immediate  direction,  presume  even 
to  mention  privileges  and  freedom,  who  till  of  late 
received  directions  from  the  throne  with  implicit 
humility  ;  when  this  is  considered,  I  cannot  help 
fancying  that  the  genius  of  Freedom  has  entered 
that  kingdom  in  disguise.  If  they  have  but  three 
weak  monarchs  more  successively  on  the  throne, 
the  mask  will  be  laid  aside,  and  the  country  will 
certainly  once  more  be  free."  Events  have  testi- 
fied to  the  sage  forecast  of  the  poet. 

During  a  brief  sojourn  in  Paris  he  appears  to 
have  gained  access  to  valuable  society,  and  to 
have  had  the  honor  and  pleasure  of  making  the 
acquaintance  of  Voltaire  ;  of  whom,  in  after 
years,  he  wrote  a  memoir.  "  As  a  companion," 
says  he,  "  no  man  ever  exceeded  him  when  he 
pleased  to  lead  the  conversation  ;  which,  however, 
was  not  always  the  case.  In  company  which  he 
either  disliked  or  despised,  few  could  be  more  re- 
served than  he  ;  but  when  he  was  warmed  in  dis- 
course, and  got  over  a  hesitating  manner,  which 
sometimes  he  was  subject  to,  it  was  rapture  to 
hear  him.  His  meagre  visage  seemed  insensibly 
to  gather  beauty  :  every  muscle  in  it  had  mean- 
ing, and  his  eye  beamed  with  unusual  brightness. 
The  person  who  writes  this  memoir,  '  continues 
he,  "  remembers  to  have  seen  him  in  a  select  com- 
pany of  wits  of  both  sexes  at  Paris,  when  the  sub- 
ject happened  to  turn  upon  English  taste  and 
learning.  Fontenelle  (then  nearly  a  hundred 
years  old),  who  was  of  the  party,  and  who  being 
unacquainted  with  the  language  or  authors  of  the 
country  he  undertook  to  condemn,  with  a  spirit 
truly  vulgar  began  to  revile  both.  Diderot,  who 
liked  the  English,  and  knew  something  of  their 
literary  pretensions,  attempted  to  vindicate  their 
poetry  and  learning,  but  with  unequal  abilities. 
The  company  quickly  perceived  that  Fontenelle 
was  superior  in  the  dispute,  and  were  surprised  at 
the  silence  which  Voltaire  had  preserved  all  the 
former  part  of  the  night,  particularly  as  the  con- 
versation happened  to  turn  upon  one  of  his  favor- 
ite topics.  Fontenelle  continued  his  triumph 
until  about  twelve  o'clock,  when  Voltaire  ap- 
peared at  last  roused  from  his  reverie.  His  whole 
irame  seemed  animated.  He  began  his  defence 
with  the  utmost  defiance  mixed  with  spirit,  and 
now  and  then  let  fall  the  finest  strokes  of  raillery 
upon  his  antagonist  ;  and  his  harangue  lasted  till 
three  in  the  morning.  I  must  confess  that, 
whether  from  national  partiality  or  from  the  ele- 
gant sensibility  of  his  manner,  I  never  was  so 
charmed,  nor  did  I  ever  remember  so  absolute  a 
victory  as  he  gained  in  this  dispute."  Gold- 
smith's ramblings  took  him  into  Germany  and 
Switzerland,  from  which  last  mentioned  country 
he  sent  to  his  brother  in  Ireland  the  first  brief 
sketch,  afterward  amplified  into  his  poem  of  the 
"  Traveller." 

At  Geneva  he  became  travelling  tutor  to  a 
mongrel  young  gentleman,  son  of  a  London 
pawnbroker,  who  had  been  suddenly  elevated 
into  fortune  and  absurdity  by  the  death  of  an 
uncle.  The  youth,  before  setting  up  for  a  gentle- 
man, had  been  an  attorney's  apprentice,  and  was 
an  arrant  pettifogger  .in  money  matters.  Never 


were  two  beings  more  illy  assorted  than  he  and 
Goldsmith.  We  may  form  an  idea  of  the  tutor 
and  the  pupil  from  the  following  extract  from  the 
narrative  of  the  "  Philosophic  Vagabond." 

"  I  was  to  be  the  young  gentleman's  governor, 
but  with  a  proviso  that  he  should  always  be  permit- 
ted to  govern  himself.  My  pupil,  in  fact,  under- 
stood the  art  of  guiding  in  money  concerns  much 
better  than  I.  He  was  heir  to  a  fortune  of  about 
two  hundred  thousand  pounds,  left  him  by  an  uncle 
in  the  West  Indies  ;  and  his  guardians,  to  qualify 
him  for  the  management  of  it,  had  bound  him  ap- 
prentice to  an  attorney.  Thus  avarice  was  his 
prevailing  passion  ;  all  his  questions  on  the  road 
were  how  money  might  be  saved — which  was  the 
least  expensive  course  of  travel — whether  any- 
thing could  be  bought  that  would  turn  to  account 
when  disposed  of  again  in  London.  Such  curios- 
ities on  the  way  as  could  be  seen  for  nothing  he 
was  ready  enough  to  look  at  ;  but  if  the  sight  of 
them  was  to  be  paid  for,  he  usually  asserted  that 
he  had  been  told  that  they  were  not  worth  seeing. 
He  never  paid  a  bill  that  he  would  not  observe 
how  amazingly  expensive  travelling  was  ;  and  all 
this  though  not  yet  twenty-one." 

In  this  sketch  Goldsmith  undoubtedly  shadows 
forth  his  annoyances  as  travelling  tutor  to  this 
concrete  young  gentleman,  compounded  of  the 
pavynbroker,  the  pettifogger,  and  the  West  Indian 
heir,  with  an  overlaying  of  the  city  miser.  They 
had  continual  difficulties  on  all  points  of  expense 
until  they  reached  Marseilles,  where  both  were 
glad  to  separate. 

Once  more  on,  foot,  but  freed  from  the  irksome 
duties  of  "  bear  leader,"  and  with  some  of  his 
pay,  as  tutor,  in  his  pocket,  Goldsmith  continued 
his  half-vagrant  peregrinations  through  part  of 
France  and  Piedmont,  and  some  of  the  Italian 
States.  He  had  acquired,  as  has  been  shown,  a 
habit  of  shifting  along  and  living  by  expedients, 
and  a  new  one  presented  itself  in  Italy.  "  My 
skill  in  music,"  says  he,  in  the  Philosophic  Vag- 
abond, "  could  avail  me  nothing  in  a  country 
where  every  peasant  was  a  better  musician  than 
I  ;  but  by  this  time  I  had  acquired  another  talent, 
which  answered  my  purpose  as  well,  and  this  was 
a  skill  in  disputation.  In  all  the  foreign  univer- 
sities and  convents  there  are,  upon  certain  days, 
philosophical  theses  maintained  against  every  ad- 
ventitious disputant  ;  for  which,  if  the  champion 
opposes  with  any  dexterity,  he  can  claim  a  gra- 
tuity in  money,  a  dinner,  and  a  bed  for  one 
night."  Though  a  poor  wandering  scholar,  his 
reception  in  these  learned  piles  was  as  tree  from 
humiliation  as  in  the  cottages  of  the  peasantry. 
"  With  the  members  of  these  establishments," 
said  he,  "  I  could  converse  on  topics  of  literature, 
and  then  I  always  forgot  the  meanness  of  my  cir- 
cumstances.'" 

At  Padua,  where  he  remained  some  months,  he 
is  said  to  have  taken  his  medical  degree.  It  is 
probable  he  was  brought  to  a  pause  in  this  city 
by  the  death  of  his  uncle  Contarine,  who  had 
hitherto  assisted  him  in  his  wanderings  by  occa- 
sional, though,  of  course,  slender  remittances. 
Deprived  of  this  source  of  supplies  he  wrote  to  his 
friends  in  Ireland,  and  especially  to  his  brother-in- 
law  Hodson,  describing  his  destitute  situation. 
His  etters  brought  him  neither  money  nor  reply. 
It  appears  from  subsequent  correspondence  that 
his  brother-in-law  actually  exerted  himself  to 
raise  a  subscription  for  his  assistance  among  his 
relatives,  friends,  and  acquaintance,  but  without 
success.  Their  faith  and  hope  in  him  were  most 
probably  at  an  end  ;  as  yet  he  had  disappointed 


194 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


them  at  every  point,  he  had  given  none  of  the  an- 
ticipated proofs  of  talent,  and  they  were  too  poor 
to  support  what  they  may  have  considered  the 
wandering  propensities  of  a  heedless  spendthrift. 

Thus  left  to  his  own  precarious  resources, 
Goldsmith  gave  up  all  further  wandering  in  Italy, 
without  visiting  the  south,  though  Rome  and  Na- 
ples must  have  held  out  powerful  attractions  to 
one  of  his  poetical  cast.  Once  more  resuming  his 
pilgrim  staff,  he  turned  his  face  toward  England, 
"  walking  along  from  city  to  city,  examining  man- 
kind more  nearly,  and  seeing  both  sides  of  the 
picture."  In  traversing  France  his  flute — his 
magic  flute  — was  once  more  in  requisition,  as  we 
may  conclude,  by  the  following  passage  in  his 
Traveller  : 

"  Gay,  sprightly  land  of  mirth  and  social  ease, 
Pleased  with  thyself, whom  all  the  world  can  please, 
How  often  have  I  led  thy  sportive  choir 
With  tuneless  pipe  beside  the  murmuring  Loire  ! 
Where  shading  elms  along  the  margin  grew, 
And  freshened  from  the  wave  the  zephyr  flew  ; 
And  haply  though  my  harsh  note  falt'ring  still, 
But  mocked  all  tune,  and  marr'd  the  dancer's  skill  ; 
Yet  would  the  village  praise  my  wondrous  power, 
And  dance  forgetful  of  the  noontide  hour. 
Alike  all  ages  :  Dames  of  ancient  days 
Have  led  their  children  through  the  mirthful  maze, 
And  the  gay  grandsire,  skill'd  in  gestic  lore, 
Has  frisk'd  beneath  the  burden  of  three-score." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LANDING  IN  ENGLAND— SHIFTS  OF  A  MAN  WITH- 
OUT MONEY — THE  PESTLE  AND  MORTAR — 
THEATRICALS  IN  A  BARN— LAUNCH  UPON  LON- 
DON— A  CITY  NIGHT  SCENE — STRUGGLES  WITH 
PENURY— MISERIES  OF  A  TUTOR — A  DOCTOR 
IN  THE  SUBURB — POOR  PRACTICE  AND  SECOND- 
HAND FINERY— A  TRAGEDY  IN  EMBRYO — PRO- 
JECT OF  THE  WRITTEN  MOUNTAINS. 

AFTER  two  years  spent  in  roving  about  the  Con- 
tinent, "  pursuing  novelty,"  as  he  said,  "  and 
losing  content,"  Goldsmith  landed  at  Dover  early 
in  1756.  He  appears  to  have  had  no  definite  plan 
of  action.  The  death  of  his  uncle  Contarine,  and 
the  neglect  of  his  relatives  and  friends  to  reply  to 
his  letters,  seem  to  have  produced  in  him  a  tem- 
porary feeling  of  loneliness  and  destitution,  and 
his  only  thought  was  to  get  to  London  and  throw 
himself  upon  the  world.  But  how  was  he  to  get 
there  ?  His  purse  was  empty.  England  was  to 
him  as  completely  a  foreign  land  as  any  part  of 
the  Continent,  and  where  on  earth  is  a  penniless 
stranger  more  destitute  ?  His  flute  and  his  phi- 
losophy were  no  longer  of  any  avail  ;  the  English 
boors  cared  nothing  for  music  ;  there  were  no 
convents  ;  and  as  to  the  learned  and  the  clergy, 
not  one  of  them  would  give  a  vagrant  scholar  a 
supper  and  night's  lodging  for  the  best  thesis 
that  ever  was  argued.  "  You  may  easily  im- 
agine," says  he,  in  a  subsequent  letter  to  his 
brother-in-law,  "  what  difficulties  I  had  to  en- 
counter, left  as  I  was  without  friends,  recommen- 
dations, money,  or  impudence,  and  that  in  a 
country  where  being  born  an  Irishman  was  suf- 
ficient to  keep  me  unemployed.  Many,  in  such 
circumstances,  would  have  had  recourse  to  the 
friar's  cord  or  the  suicide's  halter.  But,  with  all 
my  follies,  I  had  principle  to  resist  the  one,  and 
resolution  to  combat  the  other." 

He  applied  at  one  place,  we  are  told,  for  em- 


ployment in  the  shop  of  a  country  apothecary  ; 
but  all  his  medical  science  gathered  in  foreign 
universities  could  not  gain  him  the  management 
of  a  pestle  and  mortar.  He  even  resorted,  it  is 
said,  to  the  stage  as  a  temporary  expedient,  and 
figured  in  low  comedy  at  a  country  town  in  Kent. 
This  accords  with  his  last  shift  of  the  Philosophic 
Vagabond,  and  with  the  knowledge  of  coun- 
try theatricals  displayed  in  his  "  Adventures  of  a 
Strolling  Player,"  or  may  be  a  story  suggested 
by  them.  All  this  part  of  his  career,  however,  in 
which  he  must  have  trod  the  lowest  paths  of  hu- 
mility, are  only  to  be  conjectured  from  vague  tra- 
ditions, or  scraps  of  autobiography  gleaned  from 
his  miscellaneous  writings. 

At  length  we  find  him  launched  on  the  great 
metropolis,  or  rather  drifting  about  its  streets,  at 
night,  in  the  gloomy  month  of  February,  with 
but  a  few  half-pence  in  his  pocket.  The  deserts 
of  Arabia  are  not  more  dreary  and  inhospitable 
than  the  streets  of  London  at  such  a  time,  and  to 
a  stranger  in  such  a  plight.  Do  we  want  a  pic- 
ture as  an  illustration  ?  We  have  it  in  his  own 
words,  and  furnished,  doubtless,  from  his  own  ex- 
perience. 

"  The  clock  has  just  struck  two  ;  what  a  gloom 
hangs  all  around  !  no  sound  is  heard  but  of  the 
chiming  clock,  or  the  distant  watch-dog.  How 
few  appear  in  those  streets,  which  but  some  few 
hours  ago  were  crowded  !  But  who  are  those  who 
make  the  streets  their  couch,  and  find  a. short  re- 
pose from  wretchedness  at  the  doors  of  the  opu- 
lent ?  They  are  strangers,  wanderers,  and  or- 
phans, whose  circumstances  are  too  humble  to 
expect  redress,  and  whose  distresses  are  too  great 
even  for  pity.  Some  are  without  the  covering 
even  of  rags,  and  others  emaciated  with  disease  ; 
the  world  has  disclaimed  them  ;  society  turns  its 
back  upon  their  distress,  and  has  given  them  up 
to  nakedness  and  hunger.  These  poor  shivering 
females  have  once  seen  happier  days,  and  been 
flattered  into  beauty.  They  are  now  turned  out 
to  meet  the  severity  of  winter.  Perhaps  now,  ly- 
ing at  the  doors  of  their  betrayers,  they  sue  to 
wretches  whose  hearts  are  insensible,  or  debau- 
chees who  may  curse,  but  will  not  relieve  them. 

"Why,  why  was  I  born  a  man,  and  yet  see 
the  sufferings  of  wretches  I  cannot  relieve  !  Poor 
houseless  creatures  !  The  world  will  give  you  re- 
proaches, but  will  not  give  you  relief." 

Poor  houseless  Goldsmith  !  we  may  here  ejacu- 
late— to  what  shifts  he  must  have  been  driven  to 
find  shelter  and  sustenance  for  himself  in  this  his 
first  venture  into  London  !  Many  years  after- 
ward, in  the  days  of  his  social  elevation,  he  star- 
tled a  polite  circle  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's  by 
humorously  dating  an  anecdote  about  the  time  he 
"  lived  among  the  beggars  of  Axe  Lane."  Such 
may  have  been  the  desolate  quarters  with  which 
he  was  fain  to  content  himself  when  thus  adrift 
upon  the  town,  with  but  a  few  halt-pence  in  his 
pocket. 

The  first  authentic  trace  we  have  of  him  in  this 
new  part  of  his  career,  is  filling  the  situation  of 
an  usher  to  a  school,  and  even  this  employ  he  ob- 
tained with  some  difficulty,  after  a  reference  tor 
a  character  to  his  friends  in  the  University  of 
Dublin.  In  the  Vicar  of  Wakefielcl  he  makes 
George  Primrose  undergo  a  whimsical  catechism 
concerning  the  requisites  for  an  usher.  "Have 
you  been  bred  apprentice  to  the  business  ?" 
"  No."  "  Then  you  won't  do  for  a  school.  Can 
you  dress  the  boys'  hair  ?"  "  No."  Then  you 
won't  do  for  a  school.  Can  you  lie  three  in  a 
bed  ?"  "  No."  "  Then  you  will  never  do  tor  a 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


195 


school.  Have  you  a  good  stomach?"  "Yes." 
"  Then  you  will  by  no  means  do  for  a  school.  I 
have  been  an  usher  in  a  boarding-school  myself.and 
may  I  die  of  an  anodyne  necklace,  but  I  had  rather 
be  under-turnkey  in  Newgate.  I  was  up  early  and 
late  ;  I  was  browbeat  by  the  master,  hated  for  my 
ugly  face  by  the  mistress,  worried  by  the  boys." 

Goldsmith  remained  but  a  short  time  in  this 
situation,  and  to  the  mortifications  experienced 
there,  we  doubtless  owe  the  picturings  given  in 
his  writings  of  the  hardships  of  an  usher's  life. 
"  He  is  generally,"  says  he,  "  the  laughing-stock 
of  the  school.  Every  trick  is  played  upon  him  ; 
the  oddity  of  his  manner,  his  dress,  or  his  lan- 
guage, is  a  fund  of  eternal  ridicule  ;  the  master 
himself  now  and  then  cannot  avoid  joining  in  the 
laugh  ;  and  the  poor  wretch,  eternally  resenting 
this  ill  usage,  lives  in  a  state  of  war  with  all  the 
family." — "  He  is  obliged,  perhaps,  to  sleep  in 
the  same  bed  with  the  French  teacher,  who  dis- 
turbs him  for  an  hour  every  night  in  papering 
and  filleting  his  hair,  and  stinks  worse  than  a  car- 
rion with  his  rancid  pomatums,  when  he  lays  his 
head  beside  him  on  the  bolster." 

His  next  shift  was  as  assistant  in  the  laboratory 
of  a  chemist  near  Fish  Street  Hill.  After  remain- 
ing here  a  few  months,  he  heard  that  Dr.  Sleigh, 
who  had  been  his  friend  and  fellow-student  at 
Edinburgh,  was  in  London.  Eager  to  meet  with 
a  friendly  face  in  this  land  of  strangers,  he  imme- 
diately called  on  him  ;  "  but  though  it  was  Sun- 
day, and  it  is  to  be  supposed  I  was  in  my  best 
clothes.  Sleigh  scarcely  knew  me — such  is  the  tax 
the  unfortunate  pay  to  poverty.  However,  when 
he  did  recollect  me,  I  found  his  heart  as  warm  as 
ever,  and  he  shared  his  purse  and  friendship  with 
me  during  his  continuance  in  London." 

Through  the  advice  and  assistance  of  Dr. 
Sleigh,  he  now  commenced  the  practice  of  medi- 
cine, but  in  a  small  way,  in  Bankside,  South- 
wark,  and  chiefly  among  the  poor  ;  for  he  wanted 
the  figure,  address,  polish,  and  management,  to 
succeed  among  the  rich.  His  old  schoolmate  and 
college  companion,  Beatty,  who  used  to  aid  him 
with  his  purse  at  the  university,  met  him  about 
this  time,  decked  out  in  the  tarnished  finery  of  a 
second-hand  suit  of  green  and  gold,  with  a  shirt 
and  neckcloth  of  a  fortnight's  wear. 

Poor  Goldsmith  endeavored  to  assume  a  pros- 
perous air  in  the  eyes  of  his  early  associate.  "  He 
was  practising  physic,"  he  said,  "  and  doing  very 
'well.'"  At  this  moment  poverty  was  pinching 
him  to  the  bone  in  spite  of  his  practice  and  his 
dirty  finery.  His  tees  were  necessarily  small,  and 
ill  paid,  and  he  was  fain  to  seek  some  precarious 
assistance  from  his  pen.  Here  his  quondam  fel- 
low-student, Dr.  Sleigh,  was  again  of  service,  in- 
troducing him  to  some  of  the  booksellers,  who 
gave  him  occasional,  though  starveling  employ- 
ment. According  to  tradition,  however,  his  most 
efficient  patron  just  now  was  a  journeyman  print- 
er, one  of  his  poor  patients  of  Bankside,  who 
had  formed  a  good  opinion  of  his  talents,  and 
perceived  his  poverty  and  his  literary  shifts.  The 
printer  was  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Samuel  Richard- 
son, the  author  of  Pamela,  Clarissa,  and  Sir 
Charles  Grandison  ;  who  combined  the  novelist 
and  the  publisher,  and  was  in  flourishing  circum- 
stances. Through  the  journeyman's  intervention 
Goldsmith  is  said  to  have  become  acquainted  with 
Richardson,  who  employed  him  as  reader  and 
corrector  of  the  press,  at  his  printing  establish- 
ment in  Salisbury  Court  ;  an  occupation  which 
he  alternated  with  his  medical  duties. 

Being  admitted  occasionally  to    Richardson's 


parlor,  he  began  to  form  literary  acquaintances, 
among  whom  the  most  important  was  Dr.  Young, 
the  author  of  Night  Thoughts,  a  poem  in  the 
height  of  fashion.  It  is  not  probable,  however, 
that  much  familiarity  took  place  at  the  time  be- 
tween the  literary  lion  of  the  day  and  the  poor 
./Esculapius  of  Bankside,  the  humble  corrector  of 
the  press.  Still  the  communion  with  literary  men 
had  its  effect  to  set  his  imagination  teeming.  Dr. 
Farr,  one  of  his  Edinburgh  fellow-students,  who 
was  at  London  about  this  time,  attending  the  hos- 
pitals and  lectures,  gives  us  an  amusing  account 
of  Goldsmith  in  his  literary  character. 

"  Early  in  January  he  called  upon  me  one  morn- 
ing before  f  was  up,  and,  on  my  entering  the  room, 
I  recognized  my  old  acquaintance,  dressed  in  a 
rusty,  full-trimmed  black  suit,  with  his  pockets 
full  of  papers,  which  instantly  reminded  me  of  the 
poet  in  Garrick's  farce  of  Lethe.  After  we  had 
finished  our  breakfast  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
part  of  a  tragedy,  which  he  said  he  had  brought 
for  my  correction.  In  vain  I  pleaded  inability, 
when  he  began  to  read  ;  and  every  part  on  which 
I  expressed  a  doubt  as  to  the  propriety  was  im- 
mediately blotted  out.  I  then  most  earnestly 
pressed  him  not  to  trust  to  my  judgment,  but  to 
take  the  opinion  of  persons  better  qualified  to  de- 
cide on  dramatic  compositions.  He  now  told  me 
he  had  submitted  his  productions,  so  far  as  he  had 
written,  to  Mr.  Richardson,  the  author  of  Clarissa, 
on  which  I  peremptorily  declined  offering  another 
criticism  on  the  performance." 

From  the  graphic  description  given  of  him  by 
Dr.  Farr,  it  will  be  perceived  that  the  tarnished 
finery  of  green  and  gold  had  been  succeeded  by 
a  professional  suit  of  black,  to  which,  we  are  told, 
were  added  the  wig  and  cane  indispensable  to 
medical  doctors  in  those  days.  The  coat  was  a 
second-hand  one,  of  rusty  velvet,  with  a  patch  on 
the  left  breast,  which  he  adroitly  covered  with 
his  three-cornered  hat  during  his  medical  visits  ; 
and  we  have  an  amusing  anecdote,  of  his  contest 
of  courtesy  with  a  patient  who  persisted  in  en^ 
deavoring  to  relieve  him  from  the  hat,  which  only 
made  him  press  it  more  devoutly  to  his  heart. 

Nothing  further  has  ever  been  heard  of  the 
tragedy  mentioned  by  Dr.  Farr  ;  it  was  probably 
never  completed.  The  same  gentleman  speaks  of 
a  strange  Quixotic  scheme  which  Goldsmith  had 
in  contemplation  at  the  time,  "  of  going  to  deci- 
pher the  inscriptions  on  the  written  mountains, 
though  he  was  altogether  ignorant  of  Arabic,  or 
the  language  in  which  they  might  be  supposed  to 
be  written.  "  The  salary  of  three  hundred 
pounds,"  adds  Dr.  Farr,  "  which  had  been  left 
tor  the  purpose,  was  the  temptation."  This  was 
probably  one  of  many  dreamy  projects  with  which 
his  fervid  brain  was  apt  to  teem.  On  such  sub- 
jects he  was  prone  to  talk  vaguely  and  magnifi- 
cently, but  incor  siderately,  from  a  kindled  imagi- 
nation rather  than  a  well-instructed  judgment. 
He  had  always  a  great  notion  of  expeditions  to 
the  East,  and  wonders  to  be  seen  and  effected  in 
the  oriental  countries. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

LIFE  OF  A  PEDAGOGUE— KINDNESS  TO  SCHOOL- 
BOYS —  PERTNESS  IN  RETURN  —  EXPENSIVE 
CHARITIES— THE  GRIFFITHS  AND  THE  "  MONTH- 
LY REVIEW" — TOILS  OF  A  LITERARY  HACK — 

RUPTURE  WITH  THE  GRIFFITHS. 

AMONG  the  most  cordial  of  Goldsmith's  inti- 
mates in  London  during  this  time  of  precarious 


106 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


struggle  were  certain  of  his  former  fellow-stu- 
dents in  Edinburgh.  One  of  these  was  the  son  of 
a  Doctor  Milner,  a  dissenting  minister,  who  kept 
a  classical  school  of  eminence  at  Peckham,  in 
Surrey.  Young  Milner  had  a  favorable  opinion  of 
Goldsmith's  abilities  and  attainments,  and  cher- 
ished for  him  that  good  will  which  his  genial  na- 
ture seems  ever  to  have  inspired  among  his  school 
and  college  associates.  His  father  falling  ill,  the 
young  man  negotiated  with  Goldsmith  to  take 
temporary  charge  of  the  school.  The  latter  read- 
ily consented  ;  for  he  was  discouraged  by  the 
slow  growth  of  medical  reputation  and  practice, 
'and  as  yet  had  no  confidence  in  the  coy  smiles  of 
the  muse.  Laying  by  his  wig  and  cane,  there- 
fore, and  once  more  wielding  the  ferule,  he  re- 
sumed the  character  of  the  pedagogue,  and  for 
some  time  reigned  as  vicegerent  over  the  acad- 
emy at  Peckham.  He  appears  to  have  been  well 
treated  by  both  Dr.  Milner  and  his  wife,  and  be- 
came a  favorite  with  the  scholars  from  his  easy, 
indulgent  good  nature.  He  mingled  in  their 
sports,  told  them  droll  stories,  played  on  the 
flute  for  their  amusement,  and  spent  his  money 
in  treating  them  to  sweetmeats  and  other  school- 
boy dainties.  His  familiarity  was  sometimes 
carried  too  far  ;  he  indulged  in  boyish  pranks  and 
practical  jokes,  and  drew  upon  himself  retorts  in 
kind,  which,  however,  he  bore  with  great  good 
humor.  Once,  indeed,  he  was  touched  to  the 
quick  by  a  piece  of  schoolboy  pertness.  After 
playing  on  the  flute,  he  spoke  with  enthusiasm  of 
music,  as  delightful  in  itself,  and  as  a  valuable 
accomplishment  tor  a  gentleman,  whereupon  a 
youngster,  with  a  glance  at  his  ungainly  person, 
wished  to  know  if  he  considered  himself  a  gentle- 
man. Poor  Goldsmith,  feelingly  alive  to  the  awk- 
wardness of  his  appearance  and  the  humility  of 
his  situation,  winced  at  this  unthinking  sneer, 
which  long  rankled  in  his  mind. 

As  usual,  while  in  Dr.  Milner's  employ,  his 
benevolent  feelings  were  a  heavy  tax  upon  his 
purse,  for  he  never  could  resist  a  tale  of  distress, 
and  was  apt  to  be  fleeced  by  every  sturdy  beggar  ; 
so  that,  between  his  charity  and  his  munificence, 
he  was  generally  in  advance  of  his  slender  salary. 
"  You  had  better,  Mr.  Goldsmith,  let  me  take 
cire  of  your  money,"  said  Mrs.  Milner  one  clay, 
4<  as  I  do  for  some  of  the  young  gentlemen." — "  In 
trJth,  madam,  there  is  equal  need  !"  was  the  good- 
humored  reply. 

Dr.  Milner  was  a  man  of  some  literary  preten- 
sions, and  wrote  occasionally  for  the  Monthly 
Review,  of  which  a  bookseller,  by  the  name  of 
Griffiths,  was  proprietor.  This  work  was  an  ad- 
vocate for  Whig  principles,  and  had  been  in  pros- 
perous existence  for  nearly  eight  years.  Of  late, 
however,  periodicals  had  multiplied  exceedingly, 
and  a  formidable  Tory  rival  had  started  up  in  the 
Critical  Review,  published  by  Archibald  Hamil- 
ton, a  bookseller,  and  aided  by  the  powerful  and 
popular  pen  of  Dr.  Smollett.  Griffiths  was 
obliged  to  recruit  his  forces.  While  so  doing  he 
met  Goldsmith,  a  humble  occupant  of  a  seat  at 
Dr.  Milner's  table,  and  was  struck  with  remarks 
on  men  and  books,  which  fell  from  him  in  the 
course  of  conversation.  He  took  occasion  to 
sound  him  privately  as  to  his  inclination  and  ca- 
pacity as  a  reviewer,  and  was  furnished  by  him 
with  specimens  of  his  literary  and  critical  talents. 
They  proved  satislactory.  The  consequence  was 
that  Goldsmith  once  more  changed  his  mode  of 
life,  and  in  April,  1757,  became  a  contributor  to 
'the  Monthly  Review,  at  a  small  fixed  salary,  with 
board  and  lodging,  and  accordingly  took  up  his 


abode  with  Mr.  Griffiths,  at  the  sign  of  the  Dun- 
ciad,  Paternoster  Row.  As  usual  we  trace  this 
phase  of  his  fortunes  in  his  semi-fictitious  writ- 
ings ;  his  sudden  transmutation  ot  the  pedagogue 
into  the  author  being  humorously  set  forth  in  the 
case  of  "George  Primrose,"  in  the  "Vicar  of 
Wakefield."  "  Come,"  says  George's  adviser,  "  I 
see  you  are  a  lad  of  spirit  and  some  learning  ; 
what  do  you  think  of  commencing  author  like  me  ? 
You  have  read  in  books,  no  doubt,  of  men  of  gen- 
ius starving  at  the  trade  ;  at  present  I'll  show  you 
lorty  very  dull  fellows  about  town  that  live  by 
it  in  opulence.  All  honest,  jog-trot  men,  who  go 
on  smoothly  and  dully,  and  write  history  and  pol- 
itics, and  are  praised  :  men,  sir,  who,  had  they 
been  bred  cobblers,  would  all.  their  lives  only 
have  mended  shoes,  but  never  made  them." 
"  Finding"  (says  George)  "  that  there  is  no  great 
degree  of  gentility  affixed  to  the  character  of  an 
usher,  I  resolved  to  accept  his  proposal  ;  and 
having  the  highest  respect  for  literature,  hailed 
the  antiqua  mater  of  Grub  Street  with  reverence. 
I  thought  it  my  glory  to  pursue  a  track  which 
Dryden  and  Otway  trod  before  me."  Alas,  Dry- 
den  struggled  with  indigence  all  his  days  ;  and 
Otway,  it  is  said,  fell  a  victim  to  famine  in  his 
thirty-fifth  year,  being  strangled  by  a  roll  of 
bread,  which  he  devoured  with  the  voracity  of  a 
starving  man. 

In  Goldsmith's  experience  the  track  soon  prov- 
ed a  thorny  one.  Griffiths  was  a  hard  business 
man,  of  shrewd,  worldly  good  sense,  but  little  re- 
finement or  cultivation.  He  meddled,  or  rather 
muddled  with  literature,  too,  in  a  business  way, 
altering  and  modifying  occasionally  the  writings 
of  his  contributors,  and  in  this  he  was  aided  by 
his  wife,  who,  according  to  Smollett,  was  "  an 
antiquated  female  critic  and  a  dabbler  in  the  Re- 
view." Such  was  the  literary  vassalage  to  which 
Goldsmith  had  unwarily  subjected  himself.  A 
diurnal  drudgery  was  imposed  on  him,  irksome 
to  his  indolent  habits,  and  attended  by  circum- 
stances humiliating  to  his  pride.  He  had  to  write 
daily  from  nine  o'clock  until  two,  and  often 
throughout  the  day  ;  whether  in  the  vein  or  not, 
and  on  subjects  dictated  by  his  taskmaster,  how- 
ever foreign  to  his  taste  ;  in  a  word,  he  was  treat- 
ed as  a  mere  literary  hack.  But  this  was  not  the 
worst  ;  it  was  the  critical  supervision  ol  Griffiths 
and  his  wife  which  grieved  him  :  the  "  illiterate, 
bookselling  Griffiths,"  as  Smollett  called  them, 
"  who  presumed  to  revise,  alter,  and  amend  the 
articles  contributed  to  their  Review.  Thank 
heaven,"  crowed  Smollett,  "the  Critical  Rericii' 
is  not  written  under  the  restraint  of  a  bookseller 
and  his  wile.  Its  principal  writers  are  indepen- 
dent of  each  other,  unconnected  with  booksellers, 
and  unawed  by  old  women  !" 

This  literary  vassalage,  however,  did  not  last 
long.  The  bookseller  became  more  and  more 
exacting.  He  accused  his  hack  writer  of  idle- 
ness ;  of  abandoning  his  writing-desk  and  lit- 
erary workshop  at  an  early  hour  of  the  day  ;  and 
of  assuming  a  tone  and  manner  above  his  situa- 
tion. Goldsmith,  in  return,  charged  him  with 
impertinence  ;  his  wife  with  meanness  and  parsi- 
mony in  her  household  treatment  of  him,  and 
both  of  literary  meddling  and  marring.  The  en- 
gagement was  broken  off  at  the  end  of  five 
months,  by  mutual  consent,  and  without  any  vio- 
lent rupture,  as  it  will  be  found  they  afterward 
had  occasional  dealings  with  each  other. 

Though  Goldsmith  was  now  nearly  thirty  years 
of  age,  he  had  produced  nothing  to  give  him  a 
decided  reputation.  He  was  as  yet  a  mere  writer 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


197 


for  bread.  The  articles  he  had  contributed  to  the 
Review  were  anonymous,  and  were  never  avowed 
by  him.  They  have  since  been,  for  the  most  part, 
ascertained  ;  and  though  thrown  off  hastily,  often 
treating  on  subjects  of  temporary  interest,  and 
marred  by  the  Griffith  interpolations,  they  are 
still  characterized  by  his  sound,  easy  good  sense, 
and  the  genial  graces  of  his  style.  Johnson  ob- 
served that  Goldsmith's  genius  flowered  late  ;  he 
should  have  said  it  flowered  early,  but  was  late  in 
bringing  its  fruit  to  maturity. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

NEWBERY,  OF  PICTURE-BOOK  MEMORY — HOW  TO 
KEEP  UP  APPEARANCES — MISERIES  OF  AUTHOR- 
SHIP— A  POOR  RELATION — LETTER  TO  HODSON. 

BEING  now  known  in  the  publishing  world, 
Goldsmith  began  to  find  casual  employment  in 
various  quarters  ;  among  others  he  wrote  occa- 
sionally for  the  Literary  Magazine,  a  production 
set  on  foot  by  Mr.  John  Newbery,  bookseller,  St. 
Paul's  Churchyard,  renowned  in  nursery  litera- 
ture throughout  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century 
for  his  picture-books  for  children.  Newbery 
was  a  worthy,  intelligent,  kind-hearted  man,  and 
a  seasonable  though  cautious  friend  to  authors, 
relieving  them  with  small  loans  when  in  pecun- 
iary difficulties,  though  always  taking  care  to  be 
well  repaid  by  the  labor  of  their  pens.  Goldsmith 
introduces  him  in  a  humorous  yet  friendly  man- 
ner in  his  novel  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  "  This 
person  was  no  other  than  the  philanthropic  book- 
seller in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  who  has  written 
so  many  little  books  for  children  ;  he  called  him- 
self their  friend  ;  but  he  was  the  friend  of  all 
mankind.  He  was  no  sooner  alighted  but  he  was 
in  haste  to  be  gone  ;  for  he  was  ever  on  business 
of  importance,  and  was  at  that  time  actually  com- 
piling materials  for  the  history  of  one  Mr. 
Thomas  Trip.  I  immediately  recollected  this 
good-natured  man's  red-pimpled  face." 

Besides  his  literary  job  work,  Goldsmith  also  re- 
sumed his  medical  practice,  but  with  very  trifling 
success.  The  scantiness  of  his  purse  still  obliged 
him  to  live  in  obscure  lodgings  somewhere  in  the 
vicinity  of  Salisbury  Square,  Fleet  Street  ;  but  his 
extended  acquaintance  and  rising  importance 
caused  him  to  consult  appearances.  He  adopted 
an  expedient,  then  very  common,  and  still  prac- 
tised in  London  among  those  who  have  to  tread 
the  narrow  path  between  pride  and  poverty  ;  while 
he  burrowed  in  lodgings  suited  to  his  means,  he 
"hailed,"  as  it  is  termed,  from  the  Temple  Ex- 
change Coffee-house  near  Temple  Bar.  Here  he 
received  his  medical  calls  ;  hence  he  dated  his  let- 
ters, and  here  he  passed  much  of  his  leisure 
hours,  conversing  with  the  frequenters  of  the 
place.  "  Thirty  pounds  a  year,"  said  a  poor 
Irish  painter,  who  understood  the  art  of  shifting, 
"  is  enough  to  enable  a  man  to  live  in  London 
without  being  contemptible.  Ten  pounds  will 
find  him  in  clothes  and  linen  ;  he  can  live  in  a 
garret  on  eighteen  pence  a  week  ;  hail  from  a 
coffee-house,  where,  by  occasionally  spending 
threepence,  he  may  pass  some  hours  each  day  in 
good  company  ;  he  may  breakfast  on  bread  and 
milk  for  a  penny  ;  dine  for  sixpence  ;  do  without 
supper  ;  and  on  clean-shirt-day  he  may  go 
abroad  and  pay  visits." 

Goldsmith  seems  to  have  taken  a  leaf  from  this 
poor  devjl's  manual  in  respect  to  the  coffee-house 
at  least.  Indeed,  coffee-houses  in  those  days  were 


the  resorts  of  wits  and  literati,  where  the  topics 
of  the  day  were  gossiped  over,  and  the  affairs  of 
literature  and  the  drama  discussed  and  criticised. 
In  this  way  he  enlarged  the  circle  of  his  intimacy, 
which  now  embraced  several  names  of  notoriety. 

Do  we  want  a  picture  of  Goldsmith's  experi- 
ence in  this  part  of  his  career  ?  we  have  it  in  his 
observations  on  the  life  of  an  author  in  the  "  In- 
quiry into  the  state  of  polite  learning ',"  published 
some  years  afterward. 

"  The  author,  unpatronized  by  the  great,  has 
naturally  recourse  to  the  bookseller.  There  can- 
not, perhaps,  be  imagined  a  combination  more 
prejudicial  to  taste  than  this.  It  is  the  interest 
of  the  one  to  allow  as  little  for  writing,  and  for 
the  other  to  write  as  much  as  possible  ;  accord- 
ingly tedious  compilations  and  periodical  maga- 
zines are  the  result  of  their  joint  endeavors.  In 
these  circumstances  the  author  bids  adieu  to 
fame  ;  writes  for  bread  ;  and  for  that  only  imag- 
ination is  seldom  called  in.  He  sits  down  to  ad- 
dress the  venal  muse  with  the  most  phlegmatic 
apathy  ;  and,  as  we  are  told  ot  the  Russian,  courts 
his  mistress  by  falling  aslep  in  her  lap." 

Again.  "  Those  who  are  unacquainted  with 
the  world  are  apt  to  fancy  the  man  of  wit  as  lead- 
ing a  very  agreeable  life.  They  conclude,  per- 
haps, that  he  is  attended  with  silent  admiration, 
and  dictates  to  the  rest  of  mankind  with  all  the 
eloquence  of  conscious  superiority.  Very  differ- 
ent is  his  present  situation.  He  is  called  an  au- 
thor, and  all  know  that  an  author  is  a  thing  only 
to  be  laughed  at.  His  person,  not  his  jest,  be- 
comes the  mirth  of  the  company.  At  his  ap- 
proach the  most  fat,  unthinking  face,  brightens 
info  malicious  meaning.  Even  aldermen  laugh, 
and  avenge  on  him  the  ridicule  which  was 
lavished  on  their  forefathers.  .  .  .  The 
poet's  poverty  is  a  standing  topic  of  con- 
tempt. His  writing  for  bread  is  an  unpardonable 
offence.  Perhaps  of  all  mankind,  an  author  in 
these  times  is  used  most  hardly.  We  keep  him 
poor,  and  yet  revile  his  poverty.  We  reproach  him 
for  living  by  his  wit,  and  yet  allow  him  no  other 
means  to  live.  His  taking  refuge  in  garrets  and 
cellars  has  of  late  been  violently  objected  to  him, 
and  that  by  men  who,  I  hope,  are  more  apt  to 
pity  than  insult  his  distress.  Is  poverty  a  care- 
less fault?  No  doubt  he  knows  how  to  prefer  a 
bottle  of  champagne  to  the  nectar  of  the  neigh- 
boring ale-house,  or  a  venison  pasty  to  a  plate  of 
potates.  Want  of  delicacy  is  not  in  him,  but  in 
those  who  deny  him  the  opportunity  of  making  an 
elegant  choice.  Wit  certainly  is  the  property  of 
those  who  have  it,  nor  should  we  be  displeased  if 
it  is  the  only  property  a  man  sometimes  has.  We 
must  not  underrate  him  who  uses  it  for  subsist- 
ence, and  flees  from  the  ingratitude  of  the  age, 
even  to  a  bookseller  for  redress." 

"  If  the  author  be  necessary  among  us,  let  us 
treat  him  with  proper  consideration  as  a  child  of 
the  public,  not  as  a  rent-charge  on  the  communi- 
ty. And  indeed  a  child  of  the  public  he  is  in  all 
respects  ;  for  while  so  well  able  to  direct  others, 
how  incapable  is  he  frequently  found  of  guiding 
himself.  His  simplicity  exposes  him  to  all  the 
insidious  approaches  of  cunning  ;  his  sensibility, 
to  the  slightest  invasions  of  contempt.  Though 
possessed  of  fortitude  to  stand  unmoved  the  ex- 
pected bursts  of  an  earthquake,  yet  of  feelings  so 
exquisitely  poignant  as  to  agonize  under  the 
slightest  disappointment.  Broken  rest,  tasteless 
meals,  and  causeless  anxieties  shorten  life,  and 
render  it  unfit  for  active  employments  ;  prolonged 
vigils  and  intense  application  still  farther  contract 


198 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


his   span,    and   make   his   time   glide   insensibly 
away." 

While  poor  Goldsmith  was  thus  struggling  with 
the  difficulties  and  discouragements  which  in 
those  days  beset  the  path  of  an  author,  his  friends 
in  Ireland  received  accounts  of  his  literary  suc- 
cess and  of  the  distinguished  acquaintances  he 
was  making.  This  was  enough  to  put  the  wise 
heads  at  Lissoy  and  Ballymahon  in  a  ferment  of 
conjectures.  With  the  exaggerated  notions  of 
provincial  relatives  concerning  the  family  great 
man  in  the  metropolis,  some  of  Goldsmith's  poor 
kindred  pictured  him  to  themselves  seated  in 
high  places,  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and 
hand  and  glove  with  the  givers  of  gifts  and  dis- 
pensers of  patronage.  Accordingly,  he  was  one 
day  surprised  at  the  sudden  apparition,  in  his 
miserable  lodging,  of  his  younger  brother 
Charles,  a  raw  youth  of  twenty-one,  endowed 
with  a  double  share  of  the  family  heedlessness, 
and  who  expected  to  be  forthwith  helped  into 
some  snug  by-path  to  fortune  by  one  or  other  of 
Oliver's  great  friends.  Charles  was  sadly  discon- 
certed on  learning  that,  so  far  from  being  able  to 
provide  for  others,  his  brother  could  scarcely  take 
care  of  himself.  He  looked  round  with  a  rueful 
eye  on  the  poet's  quarters,  and  could  not  help  ex- 
pressing his  surprise  and  disappointment  at  find- 
ing him  no  better  off.  "  All  in  good  time,  my 
dear  boy,"  replied  poor  Goldsmith,  with  infinite 
good-humor  ;  "  I  shall  be  richer  by  and  by.  Ad- 
dison,  let  me  tell  you,  wrote  his  poem  of  the  '  Cam- 
paign '  in  a  garret  in  the  Haymarket,  three  stories 
high,  and  you  see  I  am  not  come  to  that  yet,  for 
I  have  only  got  to  the  second  story." 

Charles  Goldsmith  did  not  remain  long  to  em- 
barrass his  brother  in  London.  With  the  same 
roving  disposition  and  inconsiderate  temper  of 
Oliver,  he  suddenly  departed  in  an  humble  capac- 
ity to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  West  Indies,  and 
nothing  was  heard  of  him  for  above  thirty  years, 
when,  after  having  been  given  up  as  dead  by  his 
friends,  he  made  his  reappearance  in  England. 

Shortly  after  his  departure  Goldsmith  wrote  a 
letter  to  his  brother-in-law,  Daniel  Hodson,  Esq., 
of  which  the  following  is  an  extract ;  it  was  part- 
ly intended,  no  doubt,  to  dissipate  any  further  il- 
lusions concerning  his  fortunes  which  might  float 
on  the  magnificent  imagination  of  his  friends  in 
Ballymahon. 

"  I  suppose  you  desire  to  know  my  present  sit- 
uation. As  there  is  nothing  in  it  at  which  I 
should  blush,  or  which  mankind  could  censure, 
I  see  no  reason  for  making  it  a  secret.  In  short, 
by  a  very  little  practice  as  a  physician,  and  a  very 
little  reputation  as  a  poet,  I  make  a  shift  to  live. 
Nothing  is  more  apt  to  introduce  us  to  the  gates 
of  the  muses  than  poverty  ;  but  it  were  well  if  they 
only  left  us  at  the  door.  The  mischief  is  they 
sometimes  choose  to  give  us  their  company  to  the 
entertainment  ;  and  want,  instead  of  being  gen- 
tleman-usher, often  turns  master  of  the  ceremonies. 

"  Thus,  upon  learning  I  write,  no  doubt  you  im- 
agine I  starve  ;  and  the  name  of  an  author  nat- 
urally reminds  you  of  a,  garret.  In  this  particu- 
lar I  do  not  think  proper  to  undeceive  my  friends. 
But,  whether  I  eat  or  starve,  live  in  a  first  floor  or 
four  pairs  of  stairs  high,  I  still  remember  them 
with  ardor  ;  nay,  my  very  country  comes  in  for  a 
share  of  my  affection.  Unaccountable  fondness 
for  country,  this  maladie  du  pais,  as  the  French 
call  it  !  Unaccountable  that  he  should  still  have 
an  affection  for  a  place,  who  never,  when  in  it, 
I  received  above  common  civility  ;  who  never 
brought  anything  out  of  it  except  his  brogue  and 


his  blunders.  Surely  my  affection  is  equally  ri- 
diculous with  the  Scotchman's,  who  refused  to 
be  cured  of  the  itch  because  it  made  him  unco' 
thoughtful  of  his  wife  and  bonny  Inverary. 

"  But  now,  to  be  serious  :  let  me  ask  myself 
what  gives  me  a  wish  to  see  Ireland  again.  The 
country  is  a  fine  one,  perhaps  ?  No.  There  are 
good  company  in  Ireland  ?  No.  The  conversa- 
tion there  is  generally  made  up  of  a  smutty  toast 
or  a  bawdy  song  ;  the  vivacity  supported  by  some 
humble  cousin,  who  had  just  folly  enough  to  earn 
his  dinner.  Then,  perhaps,  there's  more  wit  and 
learning  among  the  Irish  ?  Oh,  Lord,  no  !  There 
has  been  more  money  spent  in  the  encouragement 
of  the  Padareen  mare  there  one  season,  than 
given  in  rewards  to  learned  men  since  the  time  of 
Usher.  All  their  productions  in  learning  amount 
to  perhaps  a  translation,  or  a  few  tracts  in  divin- 
ity ;  and  all  their  productions  in  wit  to  just  noth- 
ing at  all.  Why  the  plague,  then,  so  fond  of  Ire- 
land ?  Then,  all  at  once,  because  you,  my  dear 
friend,  and  a  few  more  who  are  exceptions  to  the 
general  picture,  have  a  residence  there.  This  it 
is  that  gives  me  all  the  pangs  I  feel  in  separation. 
I  confess  I  carry  this  spirit  sometimes  to  the  sour- 
ing the  pleasures  I  at  present  possess.  If  I  go  to 
the  opera,  where  Signora  Columba  pours  out  all 
the  mazes  of  melody,  I  sit  and  sigh  for  Lissoy 
fireside,  and  Johnny  Armstrong's  '  Last  Good- 
night'  from  Peggy  Golden.  If  I  climb  Hampstead 
Hill,  than  where  nature  never  exhibited  a  more 
magnificent  prospect,  I  confess  it  fine  ;  but  then 
I  had  rather  be  placed  on  the  little  mount  before 
Lissoy  gate,  and  there  take  in,  to  me,  the  most 
pleasing  horizon  in  nature. 

"  Before  Charles  came  hither  my  thoughts  some- 
times found  refuge  from  severer  studies  among 
my  friends  in  Ireland.  I  fancied  strange  revolu- 
tions at  home  ;  but  I  find  it  was  the  rapidity  of 
my  own  motion  that  gave  an  imaginary  one  to  ob- 
jects really  at  rest.  No  alterations  there.  Some 
friends,  he  tells  me,  are  still  lean,  but  very  rich  ; 
others  very  fat,  but  still  very  poor.  Nay,  all  the 
news  I  hear  of  you  is,  that  you  sally  out  in  visits 
among  the  neighbors,  and  sometimes  make  a  mi- 
gration from  the  blue  bed  to  the  brown.  I  could 
from  my  heart  wish  that  you  and  she  (Mrs.  Hod- 
son),  and  Lissoy  and  Ballymahon,  and  all  of  you, 
would  fairly  make  a  migration  into  Middlesex  ; 
though,  upon  second  thoughts,  this  might  be  at- 
tended with  a  few  inconveniences.  Therefore,  as 
the  mountain  will  not  corne  to  Mohammed,  why 
Mohammed  shall  go  to  the  mountain  ;  or,  to 
speak  plain  English,  as  you  cannot  conveniently 
pay  me  a  visit,  if  next  summer  I  can  contrive  to 
be  absent  six  weeks  from  London,  I  shall  spend 
three  of  them  among  my  friends  in  Ireland.  But 
first,  believe  me,  my  design  is  purely  to  visit,  and 
neither  to  cut  a  figure  nor  levy  contributions  ; 
neither  to  excite  envy  nor  solicit  favor  ;  in  fact, 
my  circumstances  are  adapted  to  neither.  I  am 
too  poor  to  be  gazed  at,  and  too  rich  to  need  as- 
sistance." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

HACKNEY  AUTHORSHIP— THOUGHTS  OF  LITERARY 
SUICIDE  —  RETURN  TO  PECKHAM  —  ORIENTAL 
PROJECTS — LITERARY  ENTERPRISE  TO  RAISE 
FUNDS — LETTER  TO  EDWARD  WELLS — TO  ROB- 
ERT BRYANTON — DEATH  OF  UNCLE  CONTA- 
RINE— LETTER  TO  COUSIN  JANE. 

FOR  some  time  Goldsmith  continued  to  write 
miscellaneously  for  reviews  and  other  periodical 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


199 


publications,  but  without  making  any  decided  hit, 
to  use  a  technical  term.  Indeed,  as  yet  he  ap- 
peared destitute  of  the  strong  excitement  of  liter- 
ary ambition,  and  wrote  only  on  the  spur  of 
necessity  and  at  the  urgent  importunity  oi  his 
bookseller.  His  indolent  and  truant  disposition, 
ever  averse  from  labor  and  delighting  in  holiday, 
had  to  be  scourged  up  to  its  task  ;  still  it  was  this 
very  truant  disposition  which  threw  an  uncon- 
scious charm  over  everything  he  wrote  ;  bringing 
with  it  honeyed  thoughts  and  pictured  images 
which  had  sprung  up  in  his  mind  in  the  sunny 
hours  of  idleness  :  these  effusions,  dashed  off  on 
compulsion  in  the  exigency  of  the  moment,  wefe 
published  anonymously  ;  so  that  they  made  no  col- 
lective impression  on  the  public,  and  reflected  no 
fame  on  the  name  of  their  author. 

In  an  essay  published  some  time  subsequently 
in  the  Bee,  Goldsmith  adverts,  in  his  own  hu- 
morous way,  to  his  impatience  at  the  tardiness 
with  which  his  desultory  and  unacknowledged 
essays  crept  into  notice.  "  I  was  once  induced," 
says  he,  "  to  show  my  indignation  against  the 
public  by  discontinuing  my  efforts  to  please  ;  and 
was  bravely  resolved,  like  Raleigh,  to  vex  them 
by  burning  my  manuscripts  in  a  passion.  Upon 
reflection,  however,  I  considered  what  set  or  body 
of  people  would  be  displeased  at  my  rashness. 
The  sun,  after  so  sad  an  accident,  might  shine 
next  morning  as  bright  as  usual  ;  men  might 
laugh  and  sing  the  next  day,  and  transact  business 
as  before  ;  and  not  a  single  creature  feel  any  re- 
gret but  myself.  Instead  of  having  Apollo  in 
mourning  or  the  Muses  in  a  fit  of  the  spleen  ;  in- 
stead of  having  the  learned  world  apostrophizing 
at  my  untimely  decease  ;  perhaps  all  Grub  Street 
might  laugh  at  my  fate,  and  self-approving  dig- 
nity be  unable  to  shield  me  from  ridicule. 

Circumstances  occurred  about  this  time  to 
give  a  new  direction  to  Goldsmith's  hopes  and 
schemes.  Having  resumed  for  a  brief  period  the 
superintendence  of  the  Peckham  school  during  a 
fit  of  illness  of  Dr.  Milner,  that  gentleman,  in  re- 
quital for  his  timely  services,  promised  to  use  his 
influence  with  a  friend,  an  East  India  director,  to 
procure  him  a  medical  appointment  in  India. 

There  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  influ- 
ence of  Dr.  Milner  would  be  effectual  ;  but  how 
was  Goldsmith  to  find  the  ways  and  means  of  fit- 
ting himself  out  for  a  voyage  to  the  Indies  ?  In 
this  emergency  he  was  driven  to  a  more  extended 
exercise  of  the  pen  than  he  had  yet  attempted. 
His  skirmishing  among  books  as  a  reviewer,  and 
his  disputatious  ramble  among  the  schools  and 
universities  and  literati  of  the  Continent,  had  filled 
his  mind  with  facts  and  observations  which  he 
now  set  about  digesting  into  a  treatise  of  some 
magnitude,  to  be  entitled  "  An  Inquiry  into  the 
Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe."  As 
the  work  grew  on  his  hands  his  sanguine  temper 
ran  ahead  of  his  labors.  Feeling  secure  of  suc- 
cess in  England,  he  was  anxious  to  forestall  the 
piracy  of  the  Irish  press  ;  for  as  yet,  the  union  not 
having  taken  place,  the  English  law  of  copyright 
did  not  extend  to  the  other  side  of  the  Irish  Chan- 
nel. He  wrote,  therefore,  to  his  friends  in  Ire- 
land, urging  them  to  circulate  his  proposals  for 
his  contemplated  work,  and  obtain  subscriptions 
payable  in  advance  ;  the  money  to  be  transmitted 
to  a  Mr.  Bradley,  an  eminent  bookseller  in  Dub- 
lin, who  would  give  a  receipt  for  it  and  be  ac- 
countable for  the  delivery  of  the  books.  The  let- 
ters written  by  him  on  this  occasion  are  worthy  of 
copious  citation  as  being  full  of  character  and  in- 
terest. One  was  to  his  relative  and  college  in- 


timate, Edward  Wells,  who  had  studied  for  the 
bar,  but  was  now  living  at  ease  on  his  estate  at 
Roscommon.  "  You  have  quitted,"  writes  Gold- 
smith, "  the  plan  of  life  which  you  once  intended 
to  pursue,  and  given  up  ambition  for  domestic 
tranquillity.  I  cannot  avoid  feeling  some  regret 
that  one  of  my  few  friends  has  declined  a  pursuit 
in  which  he  had  every  reason  to  expect  success. 
I  have  often  let  my  fancy  loose  when  you  were  the 
subject,  and  have  imagined  you  gracing  the 
bench,  or  thundering  at  the  bar  :  while  1  have 
taken  no  small  pride  to  myself,  and  whispered  to 
all  that  I  could  come  near,  that  this  was  my 
cousin.  Instead  of  this,  it  seems,  you  are  merely 
contented  to  be  a  happy  man  ;  to  be  esteemed  by 
your  acquaintances  ;  to  cultivate  your  paternal 
acres  ;  to  take  unmolested  a  nap  under  one  of 
your  own  hawthorns  or  in  Mrs.  Mills's  bedcham- 
ber, which,  even  a  poet  must  confess,  is  rather 
the  more  comfortable  place  of  the  two.  But, 
however  your  resolutions  may  be  altered  with  re- 
gard to  your  situation  in  life,  I  persuade  myself 
they  are  unalterable  with  respect  to  your  friends 
in  it.  I  cannot  think  the  world  has  taken  such 
entire  possession  of  that  heart  (once  so  susceptible 
of  friendship)  as  not  to  have  left  a  corner  there 
for  a  friend  or  two,  but  I  flatter  myself  that  even 
I  have  a  place  among  the  number.  This  I  have  a 
claim  to  from  the  similitude  of  our  dispositions  ; 
or  setting  that  aside,  I  can  demand  it  as  a  right 
by  the  most  equitable  law  of  nature  ;  I  mean  that 
of  retaliation  ;  for  indeed  you  have  more  than 
your  share  in  mine.  I  am  a  man  of  few  profes- 
sions ;  and  yet  at  this  very  instant  I  cannot  avoid 
the  painful  apprehension  that  my  present  profes- 
sions (which  speak  not  half  my  feelings)  should 
be  considered  only  as  a  pretext  to  cover  a  request, 
as  I  have  a  request  to  make.  No,  my  clear  Ned, 
I  know  you  are  too  generous  to  think  so,  and  you 
know  me  too  proud  to  stoop  to  unnecessary  insin- 
cerity— I  have  a  request,  it  is  true,  to  make  ;  but 
as  I  know  to  whom  I  am  a  petitioner,  I  make  it 
without  diffidence  or  confusion.  It  is  in  short 
this,  I  am  going  to  publish  a  book  in  London," 
etc.  The  residue  of  the  letter  specifies  the  nature 
of  the  request,  which  was  merely  to  aid  in  circu- 
lating his  proposals  and  obtaining  subscriptions. 
The  letter  of  the  poor  author,  however,  was  unat- 
tended to  and  unacknowledged  by  the  prosperous 
Mr.  Wells,  of  Roscommon,  though  in  after  years 
he  was  proud  to  claim  relationship  to  Dr.  Gold- 
smith, when  he  had  risen  to  celebrity. 

Another  of  Goldsmith's  letters  was  to  Robert 
Bryanton,  with  whom  he  had  long  ceased  to  be  in 
correspondence.  "  I  believe,"  writes  he,  "  that 
they  who  are  drunk,  or  out  of  their  wits,  fancy 
everybody  else  in  the  same  condition.  Mine  is  a 
friendship  that  neither  distance  nor  time  can 
efface,  which  is  probably  the  reason  that,  tor  the 
soul  of  me,  I  can't  avoid  thinking  yours  of  the 
same  complexion  ;  and  yet  I  have  many  reasons 
for  being  of  a  contrary  opinion,  else  why,  in  so 
long  an  absence,  was  I  never  made  a  partner  in 
your  concerns  ?  To  hear  of  your  success  would 
have  given  me  the  utmost  pleasure  ;  and  a  com- 
munication of  your  very  disappointments  would 
divide  the  uneasiness  I  too  frequently  feel  for  my 
own.  Indeed,  my  dear  Bob,  you  don't  conceive 
how  unkindly  you  have  treatecf  one  whose  circum- 
stances afford  him  few  prospects  of  pleasure,  ex- 
cept those  reflected  from  the  happiness  of  his 
friends.  However,  since  you  have  not  let  me  hear 
trom  you,  I  have  in  some  measure  disappointed 
your  neglect  by  frequently  thinking  of  you.  Every 
day  or  so  I  remember  the  calm  anecdotes  of  your 


200 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


life,  from  the  fireside  to  the  easy  chair  ;  recall  the 
various  adventures  that  first  cemented  our  friend- 
ship ;  the  school,  the  college,  or  the  tavern  ;  pre- 
side in  fancy  over  your  cards  ;  and  am  displeased 
at  your  bad  play  when  the  rubber  goes  against 
you,  though  not  with  all  that  agony  of  soul  as 
when  I  was  once  your  partner.  Is  it  not  strange 
that  two  of  such  like  affections  should  be  so  much 
separated,  and  so  differently  employed  as  we  are  ? 
You  seemed  placed  at  the  centre  of  fortune's 
wheel,  and,  let  it  revolve  ever  so  fast,  are  insen- 
sible of  the  motion.  I  seem  to  have  been  tied 
to  the  circumference,  and  whirled  disagreeably 
round,  as  if  on  a  whirligig." 

He  then  runs  into  a  whimsical  and  extravagant 
tirade  about  his  future  prospects.  The  wonderful 
career  of  fame  and  fortune  that  awaits  him,  and 
after  indulging  in  all  kinds  of  humorous  gascon- 
ades, concludes  :  "  Let  me,  then,  stop  my  fancy 
to  take  a  view  of  my  future  self — and,  as  the  boys 
say,  light  down  to  see  myself  on  horseback. 
Well,  now  that  I  am  down,  where  the  d — 1  is  If 
Oh  gods  !  gods  !  here  in  a  garret,  writing  for 
bread,  and  expecting  to  be  dunned  for  a  milk 
score  !" 

He  would,  on  this  occasion,  have  doubtless 
written  to  his  uncle  Contarine,  but  that  generous 
friend  was  sunk  into  a  helpless  hopeless  state  from 
which  death  soon  released  him. 

Cut  off  thus  from  the  kind  co-operation  of  his 
uncle,  he  addresses  a  letter  to  his  daughter  Jane, 
the  companion  of  his  school-boy  and  happy  days, 
now  the  wife  of  Mr.  Lawder.  The  object  was  to 
secure  her  interest  with  her  husband  in  promoting 
the  circulation  of  his  proposals.  The  letter  is  full 
of  character. 

"  If  you  should  ask,"  he  begins,  "why,  in  an 
interval  of  so  many  years,  you  never  heard  from 
me,  permit  me  madam,  to  ask  the  same  question. 
I  have  the  best  excuse  in  recrimination.  I  wrote 
to  Kilmore  from  Leyden  in  Holland,  from  Louvain 
in  Flanders,  and  Rouen  in  France,  but  received 
no  answer.  To  what  could  I  attribute  this  silence 
but  to  displeasure  or  forgetfulness  ?  Whether  I 
was  right  in  my  conjecture  I  do  not  pretend  to  de- 
termine ;  but  this  I  must  ingenuously  own,  that  I 
have  a  thousand  times  in  my  turn  endeavored  to 
forget  them,  whom  I  could  not  but  look  upon  as 
forgetting  me.  I  have  attempted  to  blot  their 
names  from  my  memory,  and,  I  confess  it,  spent 
whole  days  in  efforts  to  tear  their  image  from  my 
heart.  Could  I  have  succeeded,  you  had  not  now 
been  troubled  with  this  renewal  of  a  discontinued 
correspondence  ;  but,  as  every  effort  the  restless 
make  to  procure  sleep  serves  but  to  keep  them 
waking,  all  my  attempts  contributed  to  impress 
what  I  would  lorget  deeper  on  my  imagination. 
But  this  subject  I  would  willingly  turn  from,  and 
yet,  'for  the  soul  of  me,'  I  can't  till  I  have  said 
all.  I  was,  madam,  when  I  discontinued  writing 
to  Kilmore,  in  such  circumstances,  that  all  my 
endeavors  to  continue  your  regards  might  be  at- 
tributed to  wrong  motives.  My  letters  might  be 
looked  upon  as  the  petitions  of  a  beggar,  and  not 
the  offerings  of  a  friend  ;  while  all  my  professions, 
instead  of  being  considered  as  the  result  of  disin- 
terested esteem,  might  be  ascribed  to  venal  insin- 
cerity. I  believe,  indeed,  you  had  too  much  gen- 
erosity to  place  them  in  such  a  light,  but  I  could 
not  bear  even  the  shadow  of  such  a  suspicion. 
The  most  delicate  friendships  are  always  most 
sensible  of  the  slightest  invasion,  and  the  strongest 
jealousy  is  ever  attendant  on  the  warmest  regard. 
I  could  not — I  own  I  could  not — continue  a  cor- 
respondence in  which  every  acknowledgment  for 


past  favors  might  be  considered  as  an  indirect  re- 
quest for  future  ones  ;  and  where  it  might  be 
thought  I  gave  my  heart  from  a  motive  of  grati- 
tude alone,  when  I  was  conscious  of  having  be- 
stowed it  on.  much  more  disinterested  principles. 
It  is  true,  this  conduct  might  have  been  simple 
enough  ;  but  yourself  must  confess  it  was  in  char- 
acter. Those  who  know  me  at  all,  know  that  I 
have  always  been  actuated  by  different  principles 
from  the  rest  of  mankind  :  and  while  none  re- 
garded the  interest  of  his  friend  more,  no  man  on 
earth  regarded  his  own  less.  I  have  often  affect- 
ed bluntness  to  avoid  the  imputation  of  flattery  ; 
have  frequently  seemed  to  overlook  those  merits 
too  obvious  to  escape  notice,  and  pretended  disre- 
gard to  those  instances  of  good  nature  and  good 
sense,  which  I  could  not  fail  tacitly  to  applaud  ; 
and  all  this  lest  I  should  be  ranked  among  the 
grinning  tribe,  who  say  '  very  true  '  to  all  that  is 
said  ;  who  fill  a  vacant  chair  at  a  tea-table  ; 
whose  narrow  souls  never  moved  in  a  wider  circle 
than  the  circumference  of  a  guinea  ;  and  who 
had  rather  be  reckoning  the  money  in  your  pocket 
than  the  virtue  in  your  breast.  All  this,  I  say,  I 
have  done,  and  a  thousand  other  very  silly, 
though  very  disinterested,  things  in  my  time,  and 
for  all  which  no  soul  cares  a  farthing  about  me. 
Is  it  to  be  wondered  that  he  should  once 
in  his  life  forget  you,  who  has  been  all  his  life  for- 
getting himself  ?  However,  it  is  probable  you 
may  one  of  these  days  see  me  turned  into  a  per- 
fect hunks,  and  as  dark  and  intricate  as  a  mouse- 
hole.  I  have  already  given  my  landlady  orders 
for  an  entire  reform  in  the  state  of  my  finances.  \ 
declaim  against  hot  suppers,  drink  less  sugar  in 
my  tea,  and  check  my  grate  with  brickbats.  In- 
stead of  hanging  my  room  with  pictures,  I  intend 
to  adorn  it  with  maxims  of  frugality.  Those  will 
make  pretty  furniture  enough,  and  won't  be  a  bit 
too  expensive  ;  for  I  will  draw  them  all  out  with 
my  own  hands,  and  my  landlady's  daughter  shall 
frame  them  with  the  parings  of  my  black  waist- 
coat. Each  maxim  is  to  be  inscribed  on  a  sheet 
of  clean  paper,  and  wrote  with  my  best  pen  ;  of 
which  the  following  will  serve  as  a  specimen. 
Look  sharp  :  Mind  the  main  chance  :  Money  is 
money  now  :  If  you  liave  a  Hiousand  pounds  you 
can  put  your  hands  by  your  sides,  and  say  you 
are  worth  a  thousand  pounds  every  day  of  the 
year  :  Take  a  farthing  from  a  hundred  and  it 
will  be  a  hundred  no  longer.  Thus,  which  way 
soever  I  turn  my  eyes,  they  are  sure  to  meet  one 
of  those  friendly  monitors  ;  and  as  we  are  told  of 
an  actor  who  hung  his  room  round  with  looking- 
glass  to  correct  the  defects  of  his  person,  my 
apartment  shall  be  furnished  in  a  peculiar  man- 
ner, to  correct  the  errors  of  my  mind.  Faith  ! 
madam,  I  heartily  wish  to  be  rich,  if  it  were  only 
for  this  reason,  to  say  without  a  blush  how  much 
I  esteem  you.  But,  alas  !  I  have  many  a  fatigue 
to  encounter  before  that  happy  time  comes,  when 
your  poor  old  simple  friend  may  again  give  a 
loose  to  the  luxuriance  of  his  nature  ;  sitting  by 
Kilmore  fireside,  recount  the  various  adventures 
of  a  hard-fought  life  ;  laugh  over  the  follies  of  the 
day  ;  join  his  flute  to  your  harpsichord  ;  and  for- 
get that  ever  he  starved  in  those  sireets  where 
Butler  and  Otway  starved  before  him.  And  now 
I  mention  those  great  names — my  uncle  !  he  is  no 
more  that  soul  of  fire  as  when  I  once  knew  him. 
Newton  and  Swift  grew  dim  with  age  as  well  as 
he.  But  what  shall  I  say  ?  His  mind  was  too 
active  an  inhabitant  not  to  disorder  the  feeble 
mansion  of  its  abode  :  for  the  richest  jewels  soon- 
est wear  their  settings.  Yet  who  but  the  fool 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


201 


would  lament  his  condition  !  He  now  forgets  the 
calamities  of  life.  Perhaps  indulgent  Heaven  has 
given  him  a  foretaste  of  that  tranquillity  here, 
which  he  so  well  deserves  hereafter.  But  I  must 
come  to  business  ;  for  business,  as  one  of  my 
maxims  tells  me,  must  be  minded  or  lost.  I  am 
going  to  publish  in  London  a  book  entitled  '  The 
Present  State  of  Taste  and  Literature  in  Europe.' 
The  booksellers  in  Ireland  republish  every  per- 
formance there  without  making  the  author  any 
consideration.  I  would,  in  this  respect,  disap- 
point their  avarice  and  have  all  the  profits  of  my 
labor  to  myself.  I  must  therefore  request  Mr.  Law- 
der  to  circulate  among  his  friends  and  acquaint- 
ances a  hundred  of  my  proposals  which  1  have 
given  the  bookseller,  Mr.  Bradley,  in  Dame  Street, 
directions  to  send  to  him.  If,  in  pursuance  of  such 
circulation,  he  should  receive  any  subscriptions,  I 
entreat,  when  collected,  they  may  be  sent  to  Mr. 
Bradley,  as  aforesaid,  who  will  give  a  receipt,  and 
be  accountable  for  the  work,  or  a  return  of  the 
subscription.  If  this  request  (which,  if  it  be  com- 
plied with,  will  in  some  measure  be  an  encour- 
agement to  a  man  of  learning)  should  be  dis- 
agreeable or  troublesome,  I  would  not  press  it ; 
for  I  would  be  the  last  man  on  earth  to  have  my 
labors  go  a-begging  ;  but  if  I  know  Mr.  Lawder 
(and  sure  I  ought  to  know  him),  he  will  accept  the 
employment  with  pleasure.  All  I  can  say — if  he 
writes  a  book,  I  will  get  him  two  hundred  sub- 
scribers, and  those  of  the  best  wits  in  Europe. 
Whether  this  request  is  complied  with  or  not,  I 
shall  not  be  uneasy  ;  but  there  is  one  petition  I 
must  make  to  him  and  to  you,  which  I  solicit 
with  the  warmest  ardor,  and  in  which  I  cannot 
bear  a  refusal.  I  mean,  clear  madam,  that  I  may 
be  allowed  to  subscribe  myself,  your  ever  affec- 
tionate and  obliged  kinsman,  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 
Now  see  how  I  blot  and  blunder,  when  I  am  ask- 
ing a  favor." 


CHAPTER   X. 

ORIENTAL  APPOINTMENT — AND  DISAPPOINTMENT 
— EXAMINATION  AT  THE  COLLEGE  OF  SUR- 
GEONS— HOW  TO  PROCURE  A  SUIT  OF  CLOTHES 
— FRESH  DISAPPOINTMENT — A  'TALE  OF  DIS- 
TRESS—THE SUIT  OF  CLOTHES  IN  PAWN — 
PUNISHMENT  FOR  DOING  AN  ACT  OF  CHARITY 
— GAYETIES  OF  GREEN  ARBOR  COURT — LETTER 
TO  HIS  BROTHER — LIFE  OF  VOLTAIRE — SCROG- 
GIN,  AN  ATTEMPT  AT  MOCK  HEROIC  POETRY. 

WHILE  Goldsmith  was  yet  laboring  at  his  trea- 
tise, the  promise  made  him  by  Dr.  Milner  was 
carried  into  effect,  and  he  was  actually  appointed 
physician  and  surgeon  to  one  of  the  factories  on 
the  coast  of  Coromandel.  His  imagination  was 
immediately  on  fire  with  visions  of  Oriental  wealth 
and  magnificence.  It  is  true  the  salary  did  not 
exceed  one  hundred  pounds,  but  then,  as  appoint- 
ed physician,  he  would  have  the  exclusive  practice 
of  the  place,  amounting  to  one  thousand  pounds 
per  annum  ;  with  advantages  to  be  derived  from 
trade,  and  from  the  high  interest  of  money — 
twenty  per  cent  ;  in  a  word,  for  once  in  his  life, 
the  road  to  fortune  lay  broad  and  straight  before 
him. 

Hitherto,  in  his  correspondence  with  his  friends, 
he  had  said  nothing  of  his  India  scheme  ;  but  now 
he  imparted  to  them  his  brilliant  prospects, 
urging  the  importance  of  their  circulating  his  pro- 
posals and  obtaining  him  subscriptions  and  ad- 


vances on  his  forthcoming  work,  to  furnish  funds 
for  his  outfit. 

In  the  mean  time  he  had  to  task  that  poor 
drudge,  his  muse,  for  present  exigencies.  Ten 
pounds  were  demanded  for  his  appointment-war- 
rant. Other  expenses  pressed  hard  upon  him. 
Fortunately,  though  as  yet  unknown  to  fame,  his 
literary  capability  was  known  to  "  the  trade,"  and 
the  coinage  of  his  brain  passed  current  in  Grub 
Street.  Archibald  Hamilton,  proprietor  of  the 
Critical  Review,  the  rival  to  that  of  Griffiths, 
readily  made  him  a  small  advance  on  receiving 
three  articles  for  his  periodical.  His  purse  thus 
slenderly  replenished,  Goldsmith  paid  for  his  war- 
rant ;  wiped  off  the  score  of  his  milkmaid  ;  aban- 
doned his  garret,  and  moved  into  a  shabby  first 
floor  in  a  forlorn  court  near  the  Old  Bailey  ;  there 
to  await  the  time  for  his  migration  to  the  magnifi- 
cent coast  of  Coromandel. 

Alas  !  poor  Goldsmith  !  ever  doomed  to  disap- 
pointment. Early  in  the  gloomy  month  of  No- 
vember, that  month  of  fog  and  despondency  in 
London,  he  learned  the  shipwreck  of  his  hope. 
The  great  Coromandel  enterprise  fell  through  ;  or 
rather  the  post  promised  to  him  was  transferred 
to  some  other  candidate.  The  cause  of  this  dis- 
appointment it  is  now  impossible  to  ascertain. 
The  death  of  his  quasi  patron,  Dr.  Milner,  which 
happened  about  this  time,  may  have  had  some 
effect  in  producing  it  ;  or  there  may  have  been 
some  heedlessness  and  blundering  on  his  own 
part  ;  or  some  obstacle  arising  from  his  insupera- 
ble indigence  ;  whatever  may  have  been  the 
cause,  he  never  mentioned  it,  which  gives  some 
ground  to  surmise  that  he  himself  was  to  blame. 
His  friends  learned  with  surprise  that  he  had  sud- 
denly relinquished  his  appointment  to  India,  about 
which  he  had  raised  such  sanguine  expectations  : 
some  accused  him  ot  fickleness  and  caprice  ; 
others  supposed  him  unwilling  to  tear  himself 
from  the  growing  fascinations  of  the  literary  so- 
ciety of  London. 

In  the  mean  time  cut  down  in  his  hopes,  arrd 
humiliated  in  his  pride  by  the  failure  of  his  Coro- 
mandel scheme,  he  sought,  without  consulting  his 
friends,  to  be  examined  at  the  College  of  Physi- 
cians for  the  humble  situation  of  hospital  mate. 
Even  here  poverty  stood  in  his  way.  It  was 
necessary  to  appear  in  a  decent  garb  before  the 
examining  committee  ;  but  how  was  he  to  do  so  ? 
He  was  literally  out  at  elbows  as  well  as  out  of 
cash.  Here  again  the  muse,  so  often  jilted  and 
neglected  by  him,  came  to  his  aid.  In  considera- 
tion of  four  articles  furnished  to  the  ^Monthly  Re- 
view, Griffiths,  his  old  taskmaster,  was  to  be- 
come his  security  to  the  tailor  lor  a  suit  of  clothes. 
Goldsmith  said  he  wanted  them  but  for  a  single 
occasion,  on  which  depended  his  appointment  to 
a  situation  in  the  army  ;  as  soon  as  that  tem- 
porary purpose  was  served  they  would  either  be 
returned  or  paid  for.  The  books  to  be  reviewed 
were  accordingly  lent  to  him  ;  the  muse  was 
again  set  to  her  compulsory  drudgery  ;  the  arti- 
cles were  scribbled  off  and  sent  to  the  bookseller, 
and  the  clothes  came  in  due  time  from  the  tailor. 

From  the  records  of  the  College  of  Surgeons,  it 
appears  that  Goldsmith  underwent  his  examination 
at  Surgeons'  Hall,  on  the  2ist  of  December,  1758. 

Either  from  a  confusion  of  mind  incident  to  sen- 
sitive  and  imaginative  persons  on  such  occasions, 
or  from  a  real  want  of  surgical  science,  which 
last  is  extremely  probable,  he  failed  in  his  exami- 
nation, and  was  rejected  as  unqualified.  The 
effect  of  such  a  rejection  was  to  disqualify  him  for 
every  branch  of  public  service,  though  he  might 


203 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


have  claimed  a  re-examination,  after  the  interval 
ot  a  few  months  devoted  to  further  study.  Such 
a  re-examination  he  never  attempted,  nor  did  he 
ever  communicate  his  discomfiture  to  any  of  his 
friends. 

On  Christmas  day,  but  four  days  after  his  rejec- 
tion by  the  College  of  Surgeons,  while  he  was 
suffering  under  the  mortification  of  defeat  and 
disappointment,  and  hard  pressed  for  means  of 
subsistence,  he  was  surprised  by  the  entrance  into 
his  room  of  the  poor  woman  of  whom  he  hired 
his  wretched  apartment,  and  to  whom  he  owed 
some  small  arrears  of  rent.  She  had  a  piteous 
tale  of  distress,  and  was  clamorous  in  her  afflic- 
tions. Her  husband  had  been  arrested  in  the 
night  for  debt,  and  thrown  into  prison.  This  was 
too  much  for  the  quick  feelings  of  Goldsmith  ;  he 
was  ready  at  any  time  to  help  the  distressed,  but 
in  this  instance  he  was  himself  in  some  measure 
a  cause  of  the  distress.  What  was  to  be  clone  ? 
He  had  no  money,  it  is  true  ;  but  there  hung  the 
new  suit  of  clothes  in  which  he  had  stood  his  un- 
lucky examination  at  Surgeons'  Hall.  Without 
giving  himself  time  for  reflection,  he  sent  it  off  to 
the  pawnbroker's,  and  raised  thereon  a  sufficient 
sum  to  pay  off  his  own  debt,  and  to  release  his 
landlord  from  prison. 

Under  the  same  pressure  of  penury  and  de- 
spondency, he  borrowed  from  a  neighbor  a  pittance 
to  relieve  his  immediate  wants,  leaving  as  a  se- 
curity the  books  which  he  had  recently  reviewed. 
In  the  midst  of  these  straits  and  harassments,  he 
received  a  letter  from  Griffiths,  demanding  in  per- 
emptory terms  the  return  of  the  clothes  and  books, 
or  immediate  payment  for  the  same.  It  appears 
that  he  had  discovered  the  identical  suit  at  the 
pawnbroker's.  The  reply  of  Goldsmith  is  not 
known  ;  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  furnish  either 
the  clothes  or  the  money  ;  but  he  probably  offered 
once  more  to  make  the  muse  stand  his  bail.  His 
reply  only  increased  the  ire  of  the  wealthy  man  of 
trade,  and  drew  from  him  another  letter  still  more 
harsh  than  the  first,  using  the  epithets  of  knave 
and  sharper,  and  containing  threats  of  prosecution 
and  a  prison. 

The  following  letter  from  poor  Goldsmith  gives 
the  most  touching  picture  of  an  inconsiderate  but 
sensitive  man,  harassed  by  care,  stung  by  humilia- 
tions, and  driven  almost  to  despondency. 

"  SIR  :  I  know  of  no  misery  but  a  jail  to  which 
my  own  imprudences  and  your  letter  seem  to  point. 
I  have  seen  it  inevitable  these  three  or  four  weeks, 
and,  by  heavens  !  request  it  as  a  favor — as  a 
favor  that  may  prevent  something  more  fatal.  I 
have  been  some  years  struggling  with  a  wretched 
being — with  all  that  contempt  that  indigence 
brings  with  it—  with  all  those  passions  which  make 
contempt  insupportable.  What,  then,  has  a  jail 
that  is  formidable.  I  shall  at  least  have  the  so- 
ciety of  wretches,  and  such  is  to  me  true  society. 
I  tell  you,  again  and  again,  that  I  am  neither  able 
nor  willing  to  pay  you  a  farthing,  but  I  will  be 
punctual  to  any  appointment  you  or  the  tailor 
shall  make  ;  thus  far,  at  least,  I  do  not  act  the 
sharper,  since,  unable  to  pay  my  own  debts  one 
way,  I  would  generally  give  -some  security 
another.  No,  sir  ;  had  I  been  a  sharper — had  I 
been  possessed  of  less  good-nature  and  native 
generosity,  I  might  surely  now  have  been  in  bet- 
ter circumstances. 

"  I  am  guilty,  I  own,  of  meannesses  which  pov- 
erty unavoidably  brings  with  it  :  my  reflections 
are  filled  with  repentance  for  my  imprudence,  but 
not  with  any  remorse  for  being  a  villain  ;  that 


may  be  a  character  you  unustly  charge  me  with. 
Your  books,  I  can  assure  you,  are  neither  pawned 
nor  sold ,  but  in  the  custody  of  a  friend,  from  whom 
my  necessities  obliged  me  to  borrow  some 
money  :  whatever  becomes  of  my  person,  you 
shall  have  them  in  a  month.  It  is  very  possible 
both  the  reports  you  have  heard  and  your  own 
suggestions  may  have  brought  you  lalse"  informa- 
tion with  respect  to  my  character  ;  it  is  very  pos- 
sible that  the  man  whom  you  now  regard  with 
detestation  may  inwardly  burn  with  grateful  re- 
sentment. It  is  very  possible  that,  upon  a  second 
perusal  of  the  letter  I  sent  you,  you  may  see  the 
workings  of  a  mind  strongly  agitated  with  grati- 
tude and  jealousy.  If  such  circumstances  should 
appear,  at  least  spare  invective  till  my  book  with 
Mr.  Dodsley  shall  be  published,  and  then,  per- 
haps, you  may  see  the  bright  side  of  a  mind, 
when  my  professions  shall  not  appear  the  dictates 
of  necessity,  but  of  choice. 

"  You  seem  to  think  Dr.  Milner  knew  me  not. 
Perhaps  so  ;  but  he  was  a  man  I  shall  ever  honor  ; 
but  I  have  friendships  only  with  the  dead  !  I  ask 
pardon  for  taking  up  so  much  time  ;  nor  shall  I 
add  to  it  by  any  other  professions  than  that  I  am, 
sir,  your  humble  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  P.S. — I  shall  expect  impatiently  the  result  of 
your  resolutions." 

The  dispute  between  the  poet  and  the  publisher 
was  afterward  imperfectly  adjusted,  and  it  would 
appear  that  the  clothes  were  paid  for  by  a  short 
compilation  advertised  by  Griffiths  in  the  course  of 
the  following  month  ;  but  the  parties  were  never 
really  friends  afterward,  and  the  writings  of  Gold- 
smith were  harshly  and  unjustly  treated  in  the 
Monthly  Review. 

We  have  given  the  preceding  anecdote  in  detail, 
as  furnishing  one  of  the  many  instances  in  which 
Goldsmith's  prompt  and  benevolent  impulses  out- 
ran all  prudent  forecast,  and  involved  him  in  diffi- 
culties and  disgraces,  which  a  more  selfish  man 
would  have  avoided.  The  pawning  of  the  clothes, 
charged  upon  him  as  a  crime  by  the  grinding 
bookseller,  and  apparently  admitted  by  him  as 
one  of  "  the  meannesses  which  poverty  unavoida- 
bly brings  with.it,"  resulted  as  we  have  shown, 
from  a  tenderness  of  heart  and  generosity  of  hand 
in  which  another  man  would  have  gloried  ;  but 
these  were  such  natural  elements  with  him,  that 
he  was  unconscious  of  their  merit.  It  is  a  pity 
that  wealth  does  not  oftener  bring  such  "  mean- 
nesses" in  its  train. 

And  now  let  us  be  indulged  in  a  few  particulars 
about  these  lodgings  in  which  Goldsmith  was 
guilty  of  this  thoughtless  act  of  benevolence. 
They  were  in  a  very  shabby  house,  No.  \2  Green 
Arbor  Court,  between  the  Old  Bailey  and  Fleet 
Market.  An  old  woman  was  still  living  in  1820 
who  was  a  relative  of  the  identical  landlady  whom 
Goldsmith  relieved  by  the  money  received  from 
the  pawnbroker.  She  was  a  child  about  seven 
years  of  age  at  the  time  that  the  poet  rented  his 
apartment  of  her  relative,  and  used  frequently  to 
be  at  the  house  in  Green  Arbor  Court.  She  was 
drawn  there,  in  a  great  measure,  by  the  good- 
humored  kindness  of  Goldsmith,  who  was  always 
exceedingly  fond  of  the  society  of  children.  He 
used  to  assemble  those  of  .the  family  in  his  room, 
give  them  cakes  and  sweetmeats,  and  set  them 
dancing  to  the  sound  of  his  flute.  He  was  very 
friendly  to  those  around  him,  and  cultivated  a 
kind  of  intimacy  with  a  watchmaker  in  the  Court, 
who  possessed  much  native  wit  and  humor.  He 


THE  KAATERSKILL    IRVlNS 


.Copyright  1881  by  POLLARD  a.  MOSS. 


, 


//'/, 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


203 


passed  most  of  the  clay,  however,  in  his  room,  and 
only  went  out  in  the  evenings.  His  days  were  no 
doubt  devoted  to  the  drudgery  of  the  pen,  and  it 
would  appear  that  he  occasionally  found  the  book- 
sellers urgent  taskmasters.  On  one  occasion  a 
visitor  was  shown  up  to  his  room,  and  immedi- 
ately their  voices  were  heard  in  high  altercation, 
ami  the  key  was  turned  within  the  lock.  The 
landlady,  at  first,  was  disposed  to  go  to  the  assist- 
ance of  her  lodger  ;  but  a  calm  succeeding,  she 
forbore  to  interfere. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  door  was  unlocked  ;  a 
supper  ordered  by  the  visitor  from  a  neighboring 
tavern,  and  Goldsmith  and  his  intrusive  guest  fin- 
ished the  evening  in  great  good-humor.  It  was 
probably  his  old  taskmaster  Griffiths,  whose  press 
might  have  been  waiting,  and  who  found  no  other 
mode  of  getting  a  stipulated  task  from  Goldsmith 
than  by  locking  him  in,  and  staying  by  him  until 
it  was  finished. 

But  we  have  a  more  particular  account  of  these 
lodgings  in  Green  Arbor  Court  from  the  Rev. 
Thomas  Percy,  afterward  Bishop  of  Dromore,  and 
celebrated  for  his  relics  of  ancient  poetry,  his 
beautiful  ballads,  and  other  works.  During  an 
occasional  visit  to  London,  he  was  introduced  to 
Goldsmith  by  Grainger,  and  ever  after  continued 
one  of  his  most  steadfast  and  valued  friends.  The 
following  is  his  description  of  the  poet's  squalid 
apartment  :  "  I  called  on  Goldsmith  at  his  lodg- 
ings in  March,  1759,  anc'  found  him  writing  his 
'  Inquiry'  in  a  miserable,  dirty-looking  room,  in 
which  there  was  but  one  chair  ;  and  when,  from 
civility,  he  resigned  it  to  me,  he  himself  was 
obliged  to  sit  in  the  window.  While  we  were 
conversing  together  some  one  tapped  gently  at 
the  door,  and,  being  desired  to  come  in,  a  poor, 
ragged  little  girl,  of  a  very  becoming  demeanor, 
entered  the  room,  and,  dropping  a  courtesy,  said, 
'  My  mamma  sends  her  compliments  and  begs  the 
favor  of  you  to  lend  her  a  chamber-pot  full  of 
coals.'  ' 

We  are  reminded  in  this  anecdote  of  Gold- 
smith's picture  of  the  lodgings  of  Beau  Tibbs,  and 
of  the  peep  into  the  secrets  of  a  makeshift  estab- 
lishment given  to  a  visitor  by  the  blundering  old 
Scotch  woman. 

"  By  this  time  we  were  arrived  as  high  as  the 
stairs  would  permit  us  to  ascend,  till  we  came  to 
what  he  was  facetiously  pleased  to  call  the  first 
floor  down  the  chimney  ;  and,  knocking  at  the 
door,  a  voice  from  within  demanded  '  Who's 
there  ? '  My  conductor  answered  that  it  was  him. 
But  this  not  satisfying  the  querist,  the  voice  again 
repeated  the  demand,  to  which  he  answered 
louder  than  before  ;  and  now  the  door  was 
opened  by  an  old  woman  with  cautious  reluctance. 

"  When  we  got  in  he  welcomed  me  to  his  house 
with  great  ceremony  ;  and,  turning  to  the  old 
woman,  asked  where  was  her  lady.  '  Good 
troth,'  replied  she,  in  a  peculiar  dialect,  'she's 
washing  your  twa  shirts  at  the  next  door,  because 
they  have  taken  an  oath  against  lending  the  tub 
any  longer.'  '  My  two  shirts,'  cried  he,  in  a  tone 
that  faltered  with  confusion  ;  '  what  does  the  idiot 
mean  ? '  'I  ken  what  I  mean  weel  enough,'  re- 
plied the  other  ;  '  she's  washing  you  twa  shirts 
at  the  next  door,  because — '  '  Fire  and  fury  !  no 
more  of  thy  stupid  explanations,'  cried  he;  'go 
and  inform  her  we  have  company.  Were  that 
Scotch  hag  to  be  for  ever  in  my  family,  she  would 
never  learn  politeness,  nor  forget  that  absurd 
poisonous  accent  of  hers,  or  testify  the  smallest 
specimen  of  breeding  or  high  life  ;  and  yet  it  is 
very  surprising  too,  as  I  had  her  from  a  Parliament 


man,  a  friend  of  mine  from  the  Highlands,  one 
of  the  politest  men  in  the  world  ;  but  that's  a  se- 
cret.' "  * 

Let  us  linger  a  little  in  Green  Arbor  Court,  a 
place  consecrated  by  the  genius  and  the  poverty  of 
Goldsmith,  but  recently  obliterated  in  the  course 
of  modern  improvements.  The  writer  of  this 
memoir  visited  it  not  many  years  since  on  a  liter- 
ary pilgrimage,  and  may  be  excused  for  repeating 
a  description  of  it  which  he  has  heretolore  insert- 
ed in  another  publication.  "  It  then  existed  in  its 
pristine  state,  and  was  a  small  square  of  tall  and 
miserable  houses,  the  very  intestines  of  which 
seemed  turned  inside  out,  to  judge  from  the  old 
garments  and  frippery  that  fluttered  from  every 
window.  It  appeared  to  be  a  region  of  washer- 
women, and  lines  were  stretched  about  the  little 
square,  on  which  clothes  were  dangling  to  dry. 

"Just  as  we  entered  the  square,  a  scuffle  took 
place  between  two  viragoes  about  a  disputed 
right  to  a  washtub,  and  immediately  the  whole 
community  was  in  a  hubbub.  Heads  in  mob 
caps  popped  out  of  every  window,  and  such  a 
clamor  of  tongues  ensued  that  I  was  fain  to  stop 
my  ears.  Every  amazon  took  part  with  one  or 
other  of  the  disputants,  and  brandished  her  arms, 
dripping  with  soapsuds,  and  fired  away  from  her 
window  as  from  the  embrasure  of  a  fortress  ; 
while  the  screams  of  children  nestled  and  cradled 
in  every  procreant  chamber  of  this  hive,  waking 
with  the  noise,  set  up  their  shrill  pipes  to  swell 
the  general  concert."  f 

While  in  these  forlorn  quarters,  suffering  under 
extreme  depression  of  spirits,  caused  by  his  failure 
at  Surgeons'  Hall,  the  disappointment  of  his 
hopes,  and  his  harsh  collisions  with  Griffiths, 
Goldsmith  wrote  the  following  letter  to  his  brother 
Henry,  some  parts  of  which  are  most  touchingly 
mournful. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  Your  punctuality  in  answering  a 
man  whose  trade  is  writing,  is  more  than  I  had 
reason  to  expect  ;  and  yet  you  see  me  generally 
fill  a  whole  sheet,  which  is  all  the  recompense  I 
can  make  for  being  so  frequently  troublesome. 
The  behavior  of  Mr.  Mills  and  Mr.  Lawcler  is  a 
little  extraordinary.  However,  their  answering 
neither  you  nor  me  is  a  sufficient  indication  of 
their  disliking  the  employment  which  I  assigned 
them.  As  their  conduct  is  different  from  what  I 
had  expected,  so  I  have  made  an  alteration  in 
mine.  I  shall,  the  beginning  of  next  month,  send 
over  two  hundred  and  fifty  books, J  which  are 
all  that  I  fancy  can  be  well  sold  among  you,  and 
I  would  have  you  make  some  distinction  in  the 
persons  who  have  subscribed.  The  money,  which 
will  amount  to  sixty  pounds,  may  be  left  with  Mr. 
Bradley  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  not  certain 
but  I  shall  quickly  have  occasion  for  it. 

"  I  have  met  with  no  disappointment  with  re- 
spect to  my  East  India  voyage,  nor  are  my  resolu- 
tions altered  ;  though,  at  the  same  time,  I  must 
confess,  it  gives  me  some  pain  to  think  I  am 
almost  beginning  the  world  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
one.  Though  I  never  had  a  day's  sickness  since 
I  saw  you,  yet  I  am  not  that  strong,  active  man 
you  once  knew  me.  You  scarcely  can  conceive 
how  much  eight  years  of  disappointment,  anguish, 
and  study  have  worn  me  down.  If  I  remember 
right  you  are  seven  or  eight  years  older  than  me, 


*  Citizen  of  the  World,  Letter  iv. 
f  Tales  of  a  Traveller. 

j  The  Inquiry  into   Polite  Literature.     His  previ- 
ous remarks  apply  to  the  subscription. 


204 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


yet  I  dare  venture  to  say,  that,  if  a  stranger  saw 
us  both,  he  would  pay  me  the  honors  of  seniority. 
Imagine  to  yourself  a  pale,  melancholy  visage, 
with  two  great  wrinkles  between  the  eyebrows, 
with  an  eye  disgustingly  severe,  and  a  big  wig  ; 
and  you  may  have  a  perfect  picture  of  my  present 
appearance.  On  the  other  hand,  I  conceive  you 
as  perfectly  sleek  and  healthy,  passing  many  a 
happy  day  among  your  own  children  or  those  who 
knew  you  a  child. 

"  Since  I  knew  what  it  was  to  be  a  man,  this  is 
a  pleasure  I  have  not  known.  I  have  passed  my 
days  among  a  parcel  of  cool,  designing  beings, 
and  have  contracted  all  their  suspicious  manner  in 
my  own  behavior.  I  should  actually  be  as  unfit 
for  the  society  of  my  friends  at  home,  as  I  detest 
that  which  I  am  obliged  to  partake  of  here.  I 
can  now  neither  partake  of  the  pleasure  of  a  revel, 
nor  contribute  to  raise  its  jollity.  I  can  neither 
laugh  nor  drink  ;  have  contracted  a  hesitating, 
disagreeable  manner  of  speaking,  and  a  visage 
that  looks  ill-nature  itself ;  in  short,  I  have 
thought  myself  into  a  settled  melancholy,  and  an 
utter  disgust  of  all  that  life  brings  with  it.  Whence 
this  romantic  turn  that  all  our  family  are  pos- 
sessed with  ?  Whence  this  love  for  every  place 
and  every  country  but  that  in  which  we  reside — 
for  every  occupation  but  our  own  ?  this  desire  of 
fortune,  and  yet  this  eagerness  to  dissipate  ?  I 
perceive,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  am  at  intervals  for 
indulging  this  splenetic  manner,  and  following 
my  own  taste,  regardless  of  yours. 

"  The  reasons  you  have  given  me  for  breeding 
up  your  son  a  scholar  are  judicious  and  convinc- 
ing ;  I  should,  however,  be  glad  to  know  for  what 
particular  profession  he  is  designed.  If  he  be  as- 
siduous and  divested  of  strong  passions  (lor  pas- 
sions in  youth  always  lead  to  pleasure),  he  may 
do  very  well  in  your  college  ;  for  it  must  be  owned 
that  the  industrious  poor  have  good  encourage- 
ment there,  perhaps  better  than  in  any  other  in 
Europe.  But  if  he  has  ambition,  strong  passions, 
and  an  exquisite  sensibility  of  contempt,  do  not 
send  him  there,  unless  you  have  no  other  trade 
for  him  but  your  own.  It  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive how  much  may  be  done  by  proper  education 
at  home.  A  boy,  for  instance,  who  understands 
perfectly  well  Latin,  French,  arithmetic,  and  the 
principles  of  the  civil  law,  and  can  write  a  fine 
hand,  has  an  education  that  may  qualify  him  for 
any  undertaking  ;  and  these  parts  of  learning 
should  be  carefully  inculcated,  let  him  be  de- 
signed for  whatever  calling  he  will. 

"  Above  all  things,  let  him  never  touch  a  ro- 
mance or  novel  ;  these  paint  beauty  in  colors  more 
charming  than  nature,  and  describe  happiness  that 
man  never  tastes.  How  delusive,  how  destructive, 
are  those  pictures  of  consummate  bliss  !  They 
teach  the  youthful  mind  to  sigh  after  beauty  and 
happiness  that  never  existed  ;  to  despise  the  little 
good  which  fortune  has  mixed  in  our  cup,  by  ex- 
pecting more  than  she  ever  gave  ;  and,  in  general, 
take  the  word  of  a  man  who  has  seen  the  world, 
and  who  has  studied  human  nature  more  by  ex- 
perience than  precept  ;  take  my  word  for  it,  I  say, 
that  books  teach  us  very  little  of  the  world.  The 
greatest  merit  in  a  state  of  poverty  would  only 
serve  to  make  the  possessor  ridiculous — may  dis- 
tress, but  cannot  relieve  him.  Frugality,  and 
even  avarice,  in  the  lower  orders  of  mankind,  are 
true  ambition.  These  afford  the  only  ladder  for 
the  poor  to  rise  to  preferment.  Teach  then,  my 
dear  sir,  to  your  son,  thrift  and  economy.  Let 
his  poor  wandering  uncle's  example  be  placed  be- 
fore his  eyes.  I  had  learned  from  books  to  be 


disinterested  and  generous,  before  I  was  taught 
from  experience  the  necessity  of  being  prudent.  I 
had  contracted  the  habits  and  notions  of  a  phi- 
losopher, while  I  was  exposing  myself  to  the  ap- 
proaches of  insidious  cunning  ;  and  often  by 
being,  even  with  my  narrow  finances,  charitable 
to  excess,  I  forgot  the  rules  of  justice,  and  placed 
myself  in  the  very  situation  of  the  wretch  who 
thanked  me  for  my  bounty.  When  I  am  in  the 
remotest  part  of  the  world,  tell  him  this,  and  per- 
haps he  may  improve  from  my  example.  But  I 
find  myself  again  falling  into  my  gloomy  habits  of 
thinking. 

"  My  mother,  I  am  informed,  is  almost  blind  ; 
even  though  I  had  the  utmost  inclination  to  return 
home,  under  such  circumstances  I  could  not,  for 
to  behold  her  in  distress  without  a  capacity  of  re- 
lieving her  from  it,  would  add  much  to  my  splen- 
etic habit.  Your  last  letter  was  much  too  short  ; 
it  should  have  answered  some  queries  I  had  made 
in  my  former.  Just  sit  down  as  I  do,  ami  write 
forward  until  you  have  filled  all  your  paper.  It 
requires  no  thought,  at  least  from  the  ease  with 
which  my  own  sentiments  rise  when  they  are  ad- 
dressed to  you.  For,  believe  me,  my  head  has 
no  share  in  all  I  write  ;  my  heart  dictates  the 
whole.  Pray  give  my  love  to  Bob  Bryanton, 
and  entreat  him  from  rne  not  to  drink.  My  dear 
sir,  give  me  some  account  about  poor  Jenny.* 
Yet  her  husband  loves  her  ;  if  so,  she  cannot  be 
unhappy. 

"  I  know  not  whether  I  should  tell  you — yet 
why  should  I  conceal  these  trifles,  or,  indeed, 
anything  from  you  ?  There  is  a  book  of  mine  will 
be  published  in  a  few  days  :  the  life  of  a  very  ex- 
traordinary man  ;  no  less  than  the  great  Voltaire. 
You  know  already  by  the  title  that  it  is  no  more 
than  a  catchpenny.  However,  I  spent  but  four 
weeks  on  the  whole  performance,  for  which  I 
received  twenty  pounds.  When  published,  I 
shall  take  some  method  of  conveying  it  to  you, 
unless  you  may  think  it  dear  of  the  postage, 
w.hich  may  amount  to  four  or  five  shillings.  How- 
ever, I  fear  you  will  not  find  an  equivalent  of 
amusement. 

"  Your  last  letter,  I  repeat  it,  was  too  short  ; 
you  should  have  given  me  your  opinion  of  the  de- 
sign of  the  heroi-comical  poem  which  [  sent  you. 
You  remember  I  intended  to  introduce  the  hero 
of  the  poem  as  lying  in  a  paltry  alehouse.  You 
may  take  the  following  specimen  of  the  manner, 
which  I  flatter  myself  is  quite  original.  The  room 
in  which  he  lies  may  be  described  somewhat  in 
this  way  : 

"  '  The  window,  patched  with  paper,  lent  a  ray 
That  feebly  show'd  the'state  in  which  he  lay  ; 
The  sanded  floor  that  grits  beneath  the  tread, 
The  humid  wall  with  paltry  pictures  spread  ; 
The  game  of  goose  was  there  exposed  to  view, 
And  the  twelve  rules  the  royal  martyr  drew  ; 
The  Seasons,  framed  with  listing,  found  a  place, 
And  Prussia's  monarch  show'd  his  lamp  black  face. 
The  morn  was  cold  :   he  views  with  keen  desire 
A  rusty  grate  unconscious  of  a  fire  ; 
An  unpaid  reckoning  un  the  frieze  was  scored, 
And   five   crack 'd    teacups   dress'd    the   chimney 
board. ' 

"  And  now  imagine,  after  his  soliloquy,  the 
landlord  to  make  his  appearance  in  order  to  dun 
him  for  the  reckoning  : 


*  His  sister,  Mrs.  Johnston  ;  her  marriage,  like 
that  of  Mrs.  Hodson,  was  private,  but  in  pecuniary 
matters  much  less  fortunate. 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


205 


"  '  Not  with  that  face,  so  servile  and  so  gay, 
That  welcomes  every  stranger  that  can  pay  : 
With  sulky  eye  he  smoked  the  patient  man, 
Then  pull'd  his  breeches  tight,  and  thus  began,' 
etc.* 

"  All  this  is  taken,  you  see,  from  nature.  It  is 
a  good  remark  of  Montaigne's,  that  the  wisest 
men  often  have  friends  with  whom  they  do  not 
care  how  much  they  play  the  fool.  Take  my  pres- 
ent follies  as  instances  of  my  regard.  Poetry  is  a 
much  easier  and  more  agreeable  species  of  com- 
position than  prose  ;  and  could  a  man  live  by  it, 
it  were  not  unpleasant  employment  to  be  a  poet. 
I  am  resoU'ed  to  leave  no  space,  though  I  should 
fill  it  up  only  by  telling  you,  what  you  very  well 
know  already,  I  mean  that  I  am  your  most  affec- 
tionate friend  and  brother, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 


The  Life  of  Voltaire,  alluded  to  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  preceding  letter,  was  the  literary  job 
undertaken  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  Griffiths.  It 
was  to  have  preceded  a  translation  of  the  Henri- 
ade,  by  Ned  Purdon,  Goldsmith's  old  schoolmate, 
now  a  Grub  Street  writer,  who  starved  rather  than 
lived  by  the  exercise  of  his  pen,  and  often  tasked 
Goldsmith's  scanty  means  to  relieve  his  hunger. 
His  miserable  career  was  summed  up  by  our  poet 
in  the  following  lines  written  some  years  alter  the 
time  we  are  treating  of,  on  hearing  that  he  had 
suddenly  dropped  dead  in  Smithfield  : 

"  Here  lies  poor  Ned  Purdon,  from  misery  freed, 

Who  long  was  a  bookseller's  hack  ; 
He  led  such  a  damnable  life  in  this  world, 
I  don't  think  he'll  wish  to  come  back." 

The  memoir  and  translation,  though  advertised 
to  form  a  volume,  were  not  published  together  ; 
but  appeared  separately  in  a  magazine. 

As  to  the  heroi-comical  poem,  also,  cited  in  the 
foregoing  letter,  it  appears  to  have  perished  in 
embryo.  Had  it  been  brought  to  maturity  we 
should  have  had  further  traits  of  autobiography  ; 
the  room  already  described  was  probably  his  own 
squalid  quarters  in  Green  Arbor  Court  ;  and  in  a 
subsequent  morsel  of  the  poem  we  have  the  poet 
himself,  under  the  euphonious  name  of  Scrog- 
gin  : 

"  Where  the  Red  Lion  peering  o'er  the  way, 
Invites  each  passing  stranger  that  can  pay  ; 
Where  Calvert's  butt  and  Parson's  black  champaigne 
Regale  the  drabs  and  bloods  of  Drury  Lane  : 
There,  in  a  lonely  room,  from  bailiffs  snug, 
The  muse  found  Scroggin  stretch'd  beneath  a  rug  ; 
A  nightcap  deck'd  his  brows  instead  of  bay, 
A  cap  by  night,  a  stocking  all  the  day  !" 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  this  poetical  conception 
was  not  carried  out  ;  like  the  author's  other  writ- 
ings, it  might  have  abounded  with  pictures  of  life 
and  touches  of  nature  drawn  from  his  own  obser- 
vation and  experience,  and  mellowed  by  his  own 
humane  and  tolerant  spirit  ;  and  might  have  been 
a  worthy  companion  or  rather  contrast  to  his 
"  Traveller"  and  "  Deserted  Village,"  and  have 
remained  in  the  language  a  first-rate  specimen  of 
the  mock-heroic. 


*  The  projected  poem,  of  which  the    above  were 
specimens,  appears  never  to  have  been  completed. 


CHAPTER  XL 

PUBLICATION  OF  "THE  INQUIRY" — ATTACKED 
BY  GRIFFITHS'  REVIEW — KENRICK  THE  LITER- 
ARY 1SHMAELITE — PERIODICAL  LITERATURE — 

GOLDSMITH'S  ESSAYS — GARRICK  AS  A  MANA- 
GER— SMOLLETT  AND  HIS  SCHEMES — CHANGE 
OF  LODGINGS — THE  ROBIN  HOOD  CLUB. 

TOWARD  the  end  of  March,  1759, tne  treatise  on 
which  Goldsmith  had  laid  so  much  stress,  on 
which  he  at  one  time  had  calculated  to  defray  the 
expenses  of  his  outfit  to  India,  and  to  which  he 
had  adverted  in  his  correspondence  with  Griffiths, 
made  its  appearance.  It  was  published  by  the 
Dodsleys,  and  entitled  "  An  Inquiry  into  the  Pres- 
ent State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Europe." 

In  the  present  day,  when  the  whole  field  of  con- 
temporary literature  is  so  widely  surveyed  and 
amply  discussed,  and  when  the  current  produc- 
tions of  every  country  are  constantly  collated  and 
ably  criticised,  a  treatise  like  that  of  Goldsmith 
would  be  considered  as  extremely  limited  and  un- 
satisfactory ;  but  at  that  time  it  possessed  novelty 
in  its  views  and  wideness  in  its  scope,  and  being 
indued  with  the  peculiar  charm  of  style  insepara- 
ble from  the  author,  it  commanded  public  attention 
and  a  profitable  sale.  As  it  was  the  most  impor- 
tant production  that  had  yet  come  from  Gold- 
smith's pen,  he  was  anxious  to  have  the  credit  of 
it  ;  yet  it  appeared  without  his  name  on  the  title- 
page.  The  authorship,  however,  was  well  known 
throughout  the  world  of  letters,  and  the  author 
had  now  grown  into  sufficient  literary  importance 
to  become  an  object  of  hostility  to  the  underlings 
of  the  press.  One  of  the  most  virulent  attacks 
upon  him  was  in  a  criticism  on  this  treatise,  and 
appeared  in  the  Monthly  Review,  to  which  he 
himself  had  been  recently  a  contributor.  It 
slandered  him  as  a  man  while  it  decried  him  as 
an  author,  and  accused  him,  by  innuendo,  of 
*•'  laboring  under  the  infamy  of  having,  by  the 
vilest  and  meanest  actions,  forfeited  all  preten- 
sions to  honor  and  honesty,"  and  of  practising 
"  those  acts  which  bring  the  sharper  to  the  cart's 
tail  or  the  pillory." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Review  was 
owned  by  Griffiths  the  bookseller,  with  whom 
Goldsmith  had  recently  had  a  misunderstanding. 
The  criticism,  therefore,  was  no  doubt  dictated  by 
the  lingerings  of  resentment  ;  and  the  imputations 
upon  Goldsmith's  character  for  honor  and  honesty, 
and  the  vile  and  mean  actions  hinted  at,  could  only 
allude  to  the  unfortunate  pawning  of  the  clothes. 
All  this,  too,  was  after  Griffiths  had  received  the 
affecting  letter  from  Goldsmith,  drawing  a  pic- 
ture of  his  poverty  and  perplexities,  and  after  the 
latter  had  made  him  a  literary  compensation. 
Griffiths,  in  fact,  was  sensible  of  the  falsehood 
and  extravagance  of  the  attack,  and  tried  to  ex- 
onerate himself  by  declaring  that  the  criticism 
was  written*  by  a  person  in  his  employ  ;  but  we 
see  no  difference  in  atrocity  between  him  who 
wields  the  knife  and  him  who  hires  the  cut-throat. 
It  may  be  well,  however,  in  passing,  to  bestow 
our  mite  of  notoriety  upon  the  miscreant  who 
launched  the  slander.  He  deserves  it  for  a  long 
course  of  dastardly  and  venomous  attacks,  not 
merely  upon  Goldsmith,  but  upon  most  of  the 
successful  authors  of  the  day.  His  name  was 
Kenrick.  He  was  originally  a  mechanic,  but,  pos- 
sessing some  degree  of  talent  and  industry,  ap- 
plied himself  to  literature  as  a  profession.  This 
he  pursued  for  many  years,  and  tried  his  hand  in 
every  department  of  prose  and  poetry  ;  he  wrote 


206 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


plays  and  satires,  philosophical  tracts,  critical  dis- 
sertations, and  works  on  philology  ;  nothing  from 
his  pen  ever  rose  to  first-rate  excellence,  or  gained 
him  a  popular  name,  though  he  received  from 
some  university  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws. 
Dr.  Johnson  characterized  his  literary  career  in 
one  short  sentence.  "  Sir,  he  is  one  of  the  many 
who  have  made  themselves  public  without  mak- 
ing themselves  known." 

Soured  by  his  own  want  of  success,  jealous  of 
the  success  of  others,  his  natural  irritability  of 
temper  increased  by  habits  of  intemperance,  he 
at  length  abandoned  himself  to  the  practice  of  re- 
viewing, and  became  one  of  the  Ishmaelites  of 
the  press.  In  this  his  malignant  bitterness  soon 
gave  him  a  notoriety  which  his  talents  had  never 
been  able  to  attain.  We  shall  dismiss  him  for 
the  present  with  the  following  sketch  of  him  by 
the  hand  of  one  of  his  contemporaries  : 

"  Dreaming  of  genius  which  he  never  had, 
Half  wit,  half  fool,  half  critic,  and  half  mad  ; 
Seizing,  like  Shirley,  on  the  poet's  lyre, 
With  all  his  rage,  but  not  one  spark  of  fire  ; 
Eager  for  slaughter,  and  resolved  to  tear 
From  other's  brows  that  wreath  he  must  not  wear — 
Next  Kenrick  came  :  all  furious  and  replete 
With  brandy,  malice,  pertness,  and  conceit  ; 
Unskill'd  in  classic  lore,  through  envy  blind 
To  all  that's  beauteous,  learned,  or  refined  ; 
For  faults  alone  behold  the  savage  prowl, 
With  reason's  offal  glut  his  ravening  soul  ; 
Pleased  with  his  prey,  its  inmost  blood  he  drinks, 
And  mumbles,  paws,  and  turns  it— till  it  stinks." 

The  British  press  about  this  time  was  extrav- 
agantly fruitful  of  periodical  publications.  That 
"  oldest  inhabitant,"  the  Gentleman' s  Magazine, 
almost  coeval  with  St.  John's  gate  which  graced 
its  title-page,  had  long  been  elbowed  by  maga- 
zines and  reviews  of  all  kinds  ;  Johnson's  Ram- 
bler had  introduced  the  fashion  of  periodical  es- 
says, which  he  had  followed  up  in  his  Adventurer 
and  Idler.  Imitations  had  sprung  up  on  every 
side,  under  every  variety  of  name  ;  until  British 
literature  was  entirely  overrun  by  a  weedy  and 
transient  efflorescence.  Many  of  these  rival  peri- 
odicals choked  each  other  almost  at  the  outset, 
and  few  of  them  have  escaped  oblivion. 

Goldsmith  wrote  for  some  of  the  most  success- 
ful, such  as  the  Bee,  the  Busy-Body,  and  the 
Lady' s  Magazine.  His  essays,  though  character- 
ized by  his  delightful  style,  his  pure,  benevolent 
morality,  and  his  mellow,  unobtrusive  humor,  did 
not  produce  equal  effect  at  first  with  more  garish 
writings  of  infinitely  less  value  ;  they  did  not 
"  strike,"  as  it  is  termed  ;  but  they  had  that  rare 
and  enduring  merit  which  rises  in  estimation  on 
every  perusal.  They  gradually  stole  upon  the 
heart  of  the  public,  were  copied  into  numerous 
contemporary  publications,  and  now  they  are 
garnered  up  among  the  choice  productions  of*  Brit- 
ish literature. 

In  his  Inquiry  into  the  State  of  Polite  Learning, 
Goldsmith  had  given  offence  to  David  Garrick,  at 
that  time  the  autocrat  of  the  Drama,  and  was 
doomed  to  experience  its  effect.  A  clamor  had 
been  raised  against  Garrick  for  exercising  a  des- 
potism over  the  stage,  and  bringing  forward 
nothing  but  old  plays  to  the  exclusion  of  original 
productions.  Walpole  joined  in  this  charge. 
"  Garrick,"  said  he,  "  is  treating  the  town  as  it 
deserves  and  likes  to  be  treated  ;  with  scenes, 
fireworks,  and  his  own  writings.  A  good  new 
play  I  never  expect  to  see  more  ;  nor  have  seen 
since  the  Provoked  Husband,  which  came  out 


when  I  was  at  school."  Goldsmith,  who  was  ex- 
tremely fond  of  the  theatre,  and  ielt  the  evils  of 
this  system,  inveighed  in  his  treatise  against  the 
wrongs  experienced  by  authors  at  the  hands  ot 
managers.  "Our  poet's  performance,"  said  he, 
"  must  undergo  a  process  truly  chemical  before 
it  is  presented  to  the  public.  It  must  be  tried  in 
the  manager's  fire  ;  strained  through  a  licenser, 
surfer  from  repeated  corrections,  till  it  may  be  a 
mere  caput  mortuiim  when  it  arrives  before  the 
public."  Again.  "  Getting  a  play  on  even  in 
three  or  four  years  is  a  privilege  reserved  only  for 
the  happy  few  who  have  the  arts  of  courting  the 
manager  as  well  as  the  muse  ;  who  have  adulation 
to  please  his  vanity,  powerful  patrons*  to  support 
their  merit,  or  money  to  indemnify  disappoint- 
ment. Our  Saxon  ancestors  had  but  one  name 
for  a  wit  and  a  witch.  I  will  not  dispute  the 
propriety  of  uniting  those  characters  then  ;  but 
the  man  who  under  present  discouragements  ven- 
tures to  write  for  the  stage,  whatever  claim  he  may 
have  to  the  appellation  of  a  wit,  at  least  has  no 
right  to  be  called  a  conjurer."  But  a  passage 
which  perhaps  touched  more  sensibly  than  all  the 
rest  on  the  sensibilities  of  Garrick,  was  the  fol- 
lowing. 

"  I  have  no  particular  spleen  against  the  fellow 
who  sweeps  the  stage  with  the  besom,  or  the  hero 
who  brushes  it  with  his  train.  It  were  a  matter 
of  indifference  to  me  whether  our  heroines  are  in 
keeping,  or  our  candle  snuffers  burn  their  fingers, 
did  not  such  make  a  great  part  of  public  care  and 
polite  conversation.  Our  actors  assume  ail  that 
state  off  the  stage  which  they  do  on  it  ;  and,  to 
use  an  expression  borrowed  from  the  green  room, 
every  one  is  up  in  his  part.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it, 
they  seem  to  forget  their  real  characters. " 

These  strictures  were  considered  by  Garrick  as 
intended  for  himself,  and  they  were  rankling  in 
his  mind  when  Goldsmith  waited  upon  him  and 
solicited  his  vote  for  the  vacant  secretaryship  of 
the  Society  of  Arts,  of  which  the  manager  was  a 
member.  Garrick,  puffed  up  by  his  dramatic  re- 
nown and  his  intimacy  with  the  great,  and  know- 
ing Goldsmith  only  by  his  budding  reputation, 
may  not  have  considered  him  of  sufficient  impor- 
tance to  be  conciliated.  In  reply  to  his  solicita- 
tions, he  observed  that  he  could  hardly  expect  his 
friendly  exertions  after  the  unprovoked  attack  he 
had  made  upon  his  management.  Goldsmith  re- 
plied that  he  had  indulged  in  no  personalities, 
and  had  only  spoken  what  he  believed  to  be  the 
truth.  He  made  no  further  apology  nor  applica- 
tion ;  failed  to  get  the  appointment,  and  consider- 
ed Garrick  his  enemy.  In  the  second  edition  of 
his  treatise  he  expunged  or  modified  the  passages 
which  had  given  the  manager  offence  ;  but  though 
the  author  and  actor  became  intimate  in  after 
years,  this  false  step  at  the  outset  of  their  inter- 
course was  never  forgotten. 

About  this  time  Goldsmith  engaged  with  Dr. 
Smollett,  who  was  about  to  launch  the  British 
Magazine.  Smollett  was  a  complete  schemer 
and  speculator  in  literature,  and  intent  upon  en- 
terprises that  had  money  rather  than  reputa- 
tion in  view.  Goldsmith  has  a  good-humored 
hit  at  this  propensity  in  one  of  his  papers  in  the 
Bee,  in  which  he  represents  Johnson,  Hume,  and 
others  taking  seats  in  the  stage-coach  bound  for 
Fame,  while  Smollett  prefers  that  destined  for 
Riches. 

Another  prominent  employer  of  Goldsmith  was 
Mr.  John  Newbery,  who  engaged  him  to  contrib- 
ute occasional  essays  to  a  newspaper  entitled  the 
Public  Ledger,  which  made  its  first  appearance  on 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


207 


the  1 2th  of  January,  1760.  His  most  valuable 
and  characteristic  contributions  to  this  paper 
were  his  Chinese  Letters,  subsequently  modified 
into  the  Citizen  of  the  World.  These  lucubra- 
tions attracted  general  attention  ;  they  were  re- 
printed in  the  various  periodical  publications  of 
the  day,  and  met  with  great  applause.  The  name 
of  the  author,  however,  was  as  yet  but  little 
known. 

Being  now  in  easier  circumstances,  and  in  there- 
ceipt  of  frequent  sums  from  the  booksellers,  Gold- 
smith, about  the  middle  of  1760,  emerged  from 
his  dismal  abode  in  Green  Arbor  Court,  and  took 
respectable  apartments  in  Wine-Office  Court, 
Fleet  Street. 

Still  he  continued  to  look  back  with  considerate 
benevolence  to  the  poor  hostess,  whose  necessi- 
ties he  had  relieved  by  pawning  his  gala  coat,  for 
we  are  told  that  "  he  often  supplied  her  with  food 
from  his  own  table,  and  visited  her  frequently 
with  the  sole  purpose  to  be  kind  to  her." 

He  now  became  a  member  of  a  debating  club, 
called  the  Robin  Hood,  which  used  to  meet  near 
Temple  Bar,  and  in  which  Burke,  while  yet  a 
Temple  student,  had  first  tried  his  powers.  Gold- 
smith spoke  here  occasionally,  and  is  recorded  in 
the  Robin  Hood  archives  as  "  a  candid  disputant, 
with  a  clear  head  and  an  honest  heart,  though 
coming  but  seldom  to  the  society."  His  relish 
was  for  clubs  of  a  more  social,  jovial  nature,  and 
he  was  never  fond  of  argument.  An  amusing 
anecdote  is  told  of  his  first  introduction  to  the 
club,  by  Samuel  Derrick,  an  Irish  acquaintance  of 
some  humor.  On  entering,  Goldsmith  was  struck 
with  the  self-important  appearance  of  the  chair- 
man ensconced  in  a  large  gilt  chair.  "  This,"  said 
he,  "  must  be  the  Lord  Chancellor  at  least." 
"No,  no,"  replied  Derrick,  "he's  only  master 
of  the  rolls." — The  chairman  was  a  baker. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

NEW  LODGINGS— VISITS  OF  CEREMONY— HANGERS- 
ON — PILKINGTON  AND  THE  WHITE  MOUSE — IN- 
TRODUCTION TO  DR.  JOHNSON — DAVIES  AND 
HIS  BOOKSHOP — PRETTY  MRS.  DAVIES — FOOTE 
AND  HIS  PROJECTS— CRITICISM  OF  THE  CUDGEL. 

IN  his  new  lodgings  in  Wine-Office  Court,  Gold- 
smith began  to  receive  visits  of  ceremony,  and  to 
entertain  his  literary  friends.  Among  the  latter 
he  now  numbered  several  names  of  note,  such  as 
Guthrie,  Murphy,  Christopher  Smart,  and  Bicker- 
staff.  He  had  also  a  numerous  class  of  hangers- 
on,  the  small-fry  of  literature  ;  who,  knowing  his 
almost  utter  incapacity  to  refuse  a  pecuniary  re- 
quest, were  apt,  now  that  he  was  considered  flush, 
to  levy  continual  taxes  upon  his  purse. 

Among  others,  one  Pilkington,  an  old  college 
acquaintance,  but  now  a  shifting  adventurer, 
duped  him  in  the  most  ludicrous  manner.  He 
called  on  him  with  a  face  full  of  perplexity.  A 
lady  of  the  first  rank  having  an  extraordinary 
fancy  for  curious  animals,  for  which  she  was  will- 
ing to  give  enormous  sums,  he  had  procured  a 
couple  of  white  mice  to  be  forwarded  to  her  from 
India.  They  were  actually  on  board  of  a  ship  in 
the  river.  Her  grace  had  been  apprised  of  their 
arrival,  and  was  all  impatience  to  see  them.  Un- 
fortunately, he  had  no  cage  to  put  them  in,  nor 
clothes  to  appear  in  before  a  lady  of  her  rank. 
Two  guineas  would  be  sufficient  for  his  purpose, 
but  where  were  two  guineas  to  be  procured  ! 


The  simple  heart  of  Goldsmith  was  touched  ; 
but,  alas  !  he  had  but  half  a  guinea  in  his  pocket. 
It  was  unfortunate,  but  after  a  pause  his  friend 
suggested,  with  some  hesitation,  "  that  money 
might  be  raised  upon  his  watch  ;  it  would  but  be 
the  loan  of  a  lew  hours."  So  said,  so  done  ;  the 
watch  was  delivered  to  the  worthy  Mr.  Pilkington 
to  be  pledged  at  a  neighboring  pawnbroker's,  but 
nothing  farther  was  ever  seen  of  him,  the  watch, 
or  the  white  mice.  The  next  that  Goldsmith 
heard  of  the  poor  shifting  scapegrace,  he  was  on 
his  death-bed,  starving  with  want,  upon  which, 
forgetting  or  forgiving  the  trick  he  had  played 
upon  him,  he  sent  him  a  guinea.  Indeed  he  used 
often  to  relate  with  great  humor  the  foregoing 
anecdote  of  his  credulity,  and  was  ultimately  in 
some  degree  indemnified  by  its  suggesting  to 
him  the  amusing  little  story  of  Prince  Bonbennin 
and  the  White  Mouse  in  the  Citizen  of  the  World. 

In  this  year  Goldsmith  became  personally  ac- 
quainted with  Dr.  Johnson,  toward  whom  he  was 
drawn  by  strong  sympathies,  though  their  natures 
were  widely  different.  Both  had  struggled  from 
early  life  with  poverty,  but  had  struggled  in  differ- 
ent ways.  Goldsmith,  buoyant,  heedless,  sanguine, 
tolerant  of  evils  and  easily  pleased,  had  shifted 
along  by  any  temporary  expedient  ;  cast  clown  at 
every  turn,  but  rising  again  with  indomitable 
good-humor,  and  still  carried  forward  by  his  tal- 
ent at  hoping.  Johnson,  melancholy,  and  hypo- 
chondriacal,  and  prone  to  apprehend  the  worst, 
yet  sternly  resolute  to  battle  with  and  conquer  it, 
had  -made  his  way  doggedly  and  gloomily,  but 
with  a  noble  principle  of  self-reliance  and  a  dis- 
regard of  foreign  aid.  Both  had  been  irregular 
at  college,  Goldsmith,  as  we  have  shown,  from 
the  levity  of  his  nature  and  his  social  and  con- 
vivial habits  ;  Johnson,  from  his  acerbity  and 
gloom.  \Vhen,  in  after  life,  the  latter  heard  him- 
self spoken  of  as  gay  and  frolicsome  at  college, 
because  he  had  joined  in  some  riotous  excesses 
there,  "  Ah,  sir  !"  replied  he,  "  I  was  mad  and 
violent.  It  was  bitterness  which  they  mistook  for 
frolic.  /  was  miserably  poor,  and  I  thought  to 
fight  my  way  by  my  literature  and  myivit.  So  I 
disregarded  all  power  and  all  authority." 

Goldsmith's  poverty  was  never  accompanied  by 
bitterness  ;  but  neither  was  it  accompanied  by 
the  guardian  pride  which  kept  Johnson  from  fall- 
ing into  the  degrading  shifts  of  poverty.  Gold- 
smith had  an  unfortunate  facility  at  borrowing, 
and  helping  himself  along  by  the  contributions  of 
his  friends  ;  no  doubt  trusting,  in  his  hopeful 
way,  of  one  day  making  retribution.  Johnson  never 
hoped,  and  therefore  never  borrowed.  In  his  stern- 
est trials  he  proudly  bore  the  ills  he  could  not 
master.  In  his  youth,  when  some  unknown 
friend,  seeing  his  shoes  completely  worn  out,  left 
a  new  pair  at  his  chamber  door,  he  disdained  to 
accept  the  boon,  and  threw  them  away. 

Though  like  Goldsmith  an  immethodical  stu- 
dent, he  had  imbibed  deeper  draughts  of  knowl- 
edge, and  made  himself  a  riper  scholar.  While 
Goldsmith's  happy  constitution  and  genial  humors 
carried  him  abroad  into  sunshine  and  enjoyment, 
Johnson's  physical  infirmities  and  mental  gloom 
drove  him  upon  himself  ;  to  the  resources  of  read- 
ing and  meditation  ;  threw  a  deeper  though  dark- 
er enthusiasm  into  his  mind,  and  stored  a  reten- 
tive memory  with  all  kinds  of  knowledge. 

After  several  years  of  youth  passed  in  the  coun- 
try as  usher,  teacher,  and  an  occasional  writer  for 
the  press,  Johnson,  when  twenty-eight  years  of 
age,  came  up  to  London  with  a  half-written  trag- 
edy in  his  pocket ;  and  David  Garrick,  late  his 


208 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


pupil,  and  several  years  his  junior,  as  a  com- 
panion, both  poor  and  penniless,  both,  like  Gold- 
smith, seeking-  their  fortune  in  the  metropolis. 
"  We  rode  and  tied,"  said  Garrick  sportively  in 
after  years  of  prosperity,  when  he  spoke  of  their 
humble  wayfaring.  "  1  came  to  London,"  said 
Johnson,  "  with  twopence  halfpenny  in  my  pock- 
et." "  Eh,  what's  that  you  say  ?"  cried  Garrick, 
"  with  twopence  halfpenny  in  your  pocket  ?" 
"  Why,  yes  ;  I  came  with  twopence  halfpenny  in 
my  pocket,  and  thou,  Davy,  with  but  three  half- 
pence in  thine."  Nor  was  there  much  exaggera- 
tion in  the  picture  ;  for  so  poor  were  they  in  purse 
and  credit,  that  after  their  arrival  they  had,  with 
difficulty,  raised  five  pounds,  by  giving  their  joint 
note  to  a  bookseller  in  the  Strand. 

Many,  many  years  had  Johnson  gone  on  ob- 
scurely in  London,  "  fighting  his  way  by  his  liter- 
ature and  his  wit  ;"  enduring  all  the  hardships 
and  miseries  of  a  Grub  Street  \vriter  ;  so  destitute 
at  one  time,  that  he  and  Savage  the  poet  had 
walked  all  night  about  St.  James's  Square,  both 
too  poor  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging,  yet  both  full 
of  poetry  and  patriotis'm,  and  determined  to  stand 
by  their  country  ;  so  shabby  in  dress  at  another 
time,  that  when  he  dined  at  Cave's,  his  bookseller, 
when  there  was  prosperous  company,  he  could 
not  make  his  appearance  at  table,  but  had  his 
dinner  handed  to  him  behind  a  screen. 

Yet  through  all  the  long  and  dreary  struggle, 
often  diseased  in  mind  as  well  as  in  body,  he  had 
been  resolutely  self-dependent,  and  proudly  self- 
respectful  ;  he  had  fulfilled  his  college  vow,  he 
had  "  fought  his  way  by  his  literature  and  his 
wit."  His  "Rambler"  and  "Idler"  had  made 
him  the  great  moralist  of  the  age,  and  his  "  Dic- 
tionary and  History  of  the  English  Language," 
that  stupendous  monument  of  individual  labor, 
had  excited  the  admiration  of  the  learned  world. 
He  was  now  at  the  head  of  intellectual  society  ; 
and  had  become  as  distinguished  by  his  conver- 
sational as  his  literary  powers.  He  had  become 
as  much  an  autocrat  in  his  sphere  as  his  iellow- 
wayfarer  and  adventurer  Garrick  had  become  of 
the  stage,  and  had  been  humorously  dubbed  by 
Smollett,  "  The  Great  Cham  of  Literature." 

Such  was  Dr.  Johnson,  when  on  the  3ist  of 
May,  1761,  he  was  to  make  his  appearance  as  a 
guest  at  a  literary  supper  given  by  Goldsmith,  to 
a  numerous  party  at  his  new  lodgings  in  Wine- 
Office  Court.  It  was  the  opening  of  their  ac- 
quaintance. Johnson  had  felt  and  acknowledged 
the  merit  of  Goldsmith  as  an  author,  and  been 
pleased  by  the  honorable  mention  made  of  him- 
self in  the  Bee  and  the  "Chinese  Letters."  Dr. 
Percy  called  upon  Johnson  to  take  him  to  Gold- 
smith's lodgings  ;  he  found  Johnson  arrayed  with 
unusual  care  in  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  a  new  hat, 
and  a  well-powdered  wig  ;  and  could  not  but  notice 
his  uncommon  spruceness.  "  Why,  sir,"  replied 
Johnson,  "  I  hear  that  Goldsmith,  who  is  a  very 
great  sloven,  justifies  his  disregard  of  cleanliness 
and  decency  by  quoting  my  practice,  and  I  am  de- 
sirous this  night  to  show  him  a  better  example.  " 

The  acquaintance  thus  commenced  ripened  into 
intimacy  in  the  course  of  frequent  meetings  at  the 
shop  of  Davies,  the  bookseller,  in  Russell  Street, 
Covent  Garden.  As  this  was  one  of  the  great  lit- 
erary gossiping  places  of  the  day,  especially  to 
the  circle  over  which  Johnson  presided,  it  is 
worthy  of  some  specification.  Mr.  Thomas  Da- 
vies,  noted  in  after  times  as  the  biographer  of 
Garrick,  had  originally  been  on  the  stage,  and 
though  a  small  man  had  enacted  tyrannical  trag- 
edy, with  a  pomp  and  magniloquence  beyond  his 


size,  if  we  may  trust  the  description  given  of  him 
by  Churchill  in  the  Rosciad  : 

"  Statesman  all  over— in  plots  famous  grown, 
He  mouths  a  sentence  as  curs  mouth  a  bone. ' ' 

This  unlucky  sentence  is  said  to  have  crippled 
him  in  the  midst  of  his  tragic  career,  and  ulti- 
mately to  have  driven  him  Irom  the  stage.  He 
carried  into  the  bookselling  craft  somewhat  of  the 
grandiose  manner  of  the  stage,  and  was  prone  to 
be  mouthy  and  magniloquent. 

Churchill  had  intimated,  that  while  on  the  stage 
he  was  more  noted  for  his  pretty  wife  than  his 
good  acting  : 

"  With  him  came  mighty  Davies  ;  on  my  life, 
That  fellow  has  a  very  pretty  wife." 

"  Pretty  Mrs.  Davies"  continued  to  be  the  lode- 
star of  his  fortunes.  Her  tea-table  became  almost 
as  much  a  literary  lounge  as  her  husband's  shop. 
She  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Ursa  Major  of 
literature  by  her  winning  ways,  as  she  poured  out 
for  him  cups  without  stint  of  his  favorite  bev- 
erage. Indeed  it  is  suggested  that  she  was  one 
leading  cause  of  his  habitual  resort  to  this  literary 
haunt.  Others  were  drawn  thither  fer  the  sake 
of  Johnson's  conversation,  and  thus  it  became  a 
resort  of  many  of  the  notorieties  of  the  clay.  Here 
might  occasionally  be  seen  Bennet  Langton, 
George  Stevens,  Dr.  Percy,  celebrated  for  his 
ancient  ballads,  and  sometimes  Warburton  in 
prelatic  state.  Garrick  resorted  to  it  for  a  time, 
but  soon  grew  shy  and  suspicious,  declaring  that 
most  of  the  authors  who  frequented  Mr.  Davies' s 
shop  went  merely  to  abuse  him. 

Foote,  the  Aristophanes  of  the  day,  was  a  fre- 
quent visitor  ;  his  broad  face  beaming  with  fun 
and  waggery,  and  his  satirical  eye  ever  on  the 
lookout  for  characters  and  incidents  for  his  farces. 
He  was  struck  with  the  odd  habits  and  appear- 
ance of  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  now  so  often 
brought  together  in  Davies' s  shop.  He  was 
about  to  put  on  the  stage  a  farce  called  The  Ora- 
tors, intended  as  a  hit  at  the  Robin  Hood  debat- 
ing club,  and  resolved  to  show  up  the  two  doctors 
in  it  for  the  entertainment  of  the  town. 

"  What  is  the  common  price  of  an  oak  stick, 
sir?"  said  Johnson  to  Davies.  "  Sixpence,"  was 
the  reply.  "  Why,  then,  sir,  give  me  leave  to 
send  your  servant  to  purchase  a  shilling  one.  I'll 
have  a  double  quantity  ;  for  I  am  told  Foote  means 
to  take  me  off,  as  he  calls  it,  and  I  am  determined 
the  fellow  shall  not  do  it  with  impunity." 

Foote  had  no  disposition  to  undergo  the  criti- 
cism of  the  cudgel  wielded  by  such  potent  hands, 
so  the  farce  of  The  Orators  appeared  without  the 
caricatures  of  the  lexicographer  and  the  essayist. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ORIENTAL  PROJECTS— LITERARY  JOBS— THE  CHER- 
OKEE CHIEFS  —  MERRY  ISLINGTON  AND  THE 
WHITE  CONDUIT  HOUSE — LETTERS  ON  THE  HIS- 
TORY OF  ENGLAND — JAMES  BOSWELL — DINNER 
OF  DAVIES— ANECDOTES  OF  JOHNSON  AXD 
GOLDSMITH. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  his  growing  success,  Gold- 
smith continued  to  consider  literature  a  mere 
makeshift,  and  his  vagrant  imagination  teemed 
with  schemes  and  plans  of  a  grand  but  indefinite 
nature.  One  .was  for  visiting  the  East  and  explor- 
ing the  interior  of  Asia.  He  had,  as  has  been  be- 
fore observed,  a  vague  notion  that  valuable  dis- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


209 


coveries  were  to  be  made  there,  and  many  useful 
inventions  in  the  arts  brought  back  to  the  stock  of 
European  knowledge.  "  Thus,  in  Siberian  Tar- 
tary,"  observes  he  in  one  of  his  writings,  "  the 
natives  extract  a  strong  spirit  from  milk,  which  is 
a  secret  probably  unknown  to  the  chemists  of 
Europe.  In  the  most  savage  parts  of  India  they 
are  possessed  of  the  secret  of  dying  vegetable  sub- 
stances scarlet,  and  that  of  refining  lead  into  a 
metal  which,  for  hardness  and  color,  is  little  in- 
ferior to  silver." 

Goldsmith  adds  a  description  of  the  kind  of  per- 
son suited  to  such  an  enterprise,  in  which  he  evi- 
dently had  himself  in  view. 

"  He  should  be  a  man  of  philosophical  turn, 
one  apt  to  deduce  consequences  of  general  utility 
from  particular  occurrences  ;  neither  swoln  with 
pride,  nor  hardened  by  prejudice  ;  neither  wedded 
to  one  particular  system,  nor  instructed  only  in 
one  particular  science  ;  neither  wholly  a  botanist, 
nor  quite  an  antiquarian  ;  his  mind  should  be 
tinctured  with  miscellaneous  knowledge,  and  his 
manners  humanized  by  an  intercourse  with  men. 
He  should  be  in  some  measure  an  enthusiast  to 
the  design  ;  fond  of  travelling,  from  a  rapid  imag- 
ination and  an  innate  love  of  change  ;  furnished 
with  a  body  capable  of  sustaining  every  fatigue, 
and  a  heart  not  easily  terrified  at  danger." 

In  1761,  when  Lord  Bute  became  prime  minister 
on  the  accession  of  George  the  Third,  Goldsmith 
drew  up  a  memorial  on  the  subject,  suggesting 
the  advantages  to  be  derived  from  a  mission  to 
those  countries  solely  for  useful  and  scientific  pur- 
poses ;  and,  the  better  to  insure  success,  he  preced- 
ed his  application  to  the  government  by  an  inge- 
nious essay  to  the  same  effect  in  the  Public  Ledger. 

His  memorial  and  his  essay  were  fruitless,  his 
project  most  probably  being  deemed  the  dream 
of  a  visionary,,  Still  it  continued  to  haunt  his 
mind,  and  he  would  often  talk  of  making  an  ex- 
pedition to  Aleppo  some  time  or  other,  when  his 
means  were  greater,  to  inquire  into  the  arts  pecul- 
iar to  the  East,  and  to  bring  home  such  as  might 
be  valuable.  Johnson,  who  knew  how  little  poor 
Goldsmith  was  fitted  by  scientific  lore  for  this  fa- 
vorite scheme  of  his  fancy,  scoffed  at  the  project 
when  it  was  mentioned  to  him.  "Of  all  men," 
said  he,  "Goldsmith  is  the  most  unfit  to  go  out  upon 
such  an  inquiry,  for  he  is  utterly  ignorant  of  such 
arts  as  we  already  possess,  and  consequently, 
could  not  know  what  would  be  accessions  to  our 
present  stock  of  mechanical  knowledge.  Sir,  he 
would  bring  home  a  grinding  barrow,  which  you 
see  in  every  street  in  London,  and  think  that  he 
nad  furnished  a  wonderful  improvement." 

His  connection  with  Newbery  the  bookseller 
now  led  him  into  a  variety  of  temporary  jobs, 
such  as  a  pamphlet  on  the  Cock-lane  Ghost,  a  Life 
of  Beau  Nash,  the  famous  Master  of  Ceremonies 
at  Bath,  etc.;  one  of  the  best  things  for  his  fame, 
however,  was  the  remodelling  and  republication 
of  his  Chinese  Letters  under  the  title  of  "  The 
Citizen  of  the  World,  *  a  work  which  h'as  long  since 
taken  its  merited  stand  among  the  classics  of  the 
English  language.  "  Few  works,"  it  has  been 
observed  by  one  of  his  biographers,  "  exhibit  a 
nicer  perception,  or  more  delicate  delineation  of 
life  and  manners.  Wit,  humor,  and  sentiment 
pervade  every  page  ;  the  vices  and  follies  of  the 
day  are  touched  with  the  most  playful  and  divert- 
ing satire  ;  and  English  characteristics,  in  endless 
variety,  are  hit  off  with  the  pencil  of  a  master." 

In  seeking  materials  for  his  varied  views  of  life, 
he  often  mingled  in  strange  scenes  and  got  in- 
volved in  whimsical  situations.  In  the  summer 


of  1762  he  was  one  of  the  thousands  who  went  to 
see  the  Cherokee  chiefs,  whom  he  mentions  in  one 
of  his  writings.  The  Indians  made  their  appear- 
ance in  grand  costume,  hideously  painted  and 
besmeared.  In  the  course  of  the  visit  Goldsmith 
made  one  of  the  chiefs  a  present,  who,  in  the  ec- 
stasy of  his  gratitude,  gave  him  an  embrace  that 
left  his  face  well  bedaubed  with  oil  and  red  ochre. 

Toward  the  close  of  1762  he  removed  to 
"  merry  Islington,"  then  a  country  village,  though 
now  swallowed  up  in  omnivorous  London.  He 
went  there  for  the  benefit  of  country  air,  his  health 
being  injured  by  literary  application  and  confine- 
ment, and  to  be  near  his  chief  employer,  Mr. 
Newbery,  who  resided  in  the  Canonbury  House. 
In  this  neighborhood  he  used  to  take  his  solitary 
rambles,  sometimes  extending  his  walks  to  the 
gardens  of  the  "White  Conduit  House,"  so  fa- 
mous among  the  essayists  of  the  last  century. 
While  strolling  one  day  in  these  gardens,  he  met 
three  females  of  the  family  of  a  respectable  trades- 
man to  whom  he  was  under  some  obligation. 
With  his  prompt  disposition  to  oblige,  he  conduct- 
ed them  about  the  garden,  treated  them  to  tea, 
and  ran  up  a  bill  in  the  most  open-handed  man- 
ner imaginable  ;  it  was  only  when  he  came  to  pay 
that  he  found  himself  in  one  of  his  old  dilemmas 
— he  had  not  the  wherewithal  in  his  pocket.  A 
scene  of  perplexity  now  took  place  between  him 
and  the  waiter,  in  the  midst  of  which  came  up 
some  of  his  acquaintances,  in  whose  eyes  he 
wished  to  stand  particularly  well.  This  completed 
his  mortification.  There  was  no  concealing  the 
awkwardness  of  his  position.  The  sneers  of  the 
waiter  revealed  it.  His  acquaintances  amused 
themselves  for  some  time  at  his  expense,  profess- 
ing their  inability  to  relieve  him.  When,  how- 
ever, they  had  enjoyed  their  banter,  the  waiter 
was  paid,  and  poor  Goldsmith  enabled  to  convoy 
off  the  ladies  with  flying  colors. 

Among  the  various  productions  thrown  off  by 
him  for  the  booksellers  during  this  growing  pe- 
riod of  his  reputation,  was  a  small  work  in  two 
volumes,  entitled  "  The  History  of  England,  in  a 
series  of  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his  Son." 
It  was  digested  from  Hume,  Rapin,  Carte,  and 
Kennet.  These  authors  he  would  read  in  the 
morning  ;  make  a  few  notes  ;  ramble  with  a 
friend  into  the  country  about  the  skirts  of  "  merry 
Islington  ;"  return  to  a  temperate  dinner  and 
cheerful  evening  ;  and,  before  going  to  bed,  write 
off  what  had  arranged  itself  in  his  head  from  the 
studies  of  the  morning.  In  this  way  he  took  a 
more  general  view  of  the  subject,  and  wrote  in  a 
more  free  and  fluent  style  than  if  he  had  been 
mousing  at  the  time  among  authorities.  The 
work,  like  many  others  written  by  him  in  the 
earlier  part  of  his  literary  career,  was  anonymous. 
Some  attributed  it  to  Lord  Chesterfield,  others  to 
Lord  Orrery,  and  others  to  Lord  Lyttelton.  The 
latter  seemed  pleased  to  be  the  putative  father, 
and  never  disowned  the  bantling  thus  laid  at  his 
door  ;  and  well  might  he  have  been  proud  to  be 
considered  capable  of  producing  what  has  been 
well  pronounced  "  the  most  finished  and  elegant 
summary  of  English  history  in  the  same  compass 
that  has  been  or  is  likely  to  be  written." 

The  reputation  of  Goldsmith,  it  will  be  perceiv- 
ed, grew  slowly  ;  he  was  known  and  estimated  by 
a  few  ;  but  he  had  not  those  brilliant  though  fal- 
lacious qualities  which  flash  upon  the  public,  and 
excite  loud  but  transient  applause.  His  works 
were  more  read  than  cited  ;  and  the  charm  of 
style,  for  which  he  was  especially  noted,  was 
more  apt  to  be  felt  than  talked  about.  He  used 


210 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


often  to  repine,  in  a  half-humorous,  half-queru- 
lous manner,  at  his  tardiness  in  gaining  the  lau- 
rels which  he  lelt  to  be  his  due.  "  The  public," 
he  would  exclaim,  "  will  never  do  me  justice  ; 
whenever  I  write  anything  they  make  a  point  to 
know  nothing  about  it." 

About  the  beginning  of  1763  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  Boswell,  whose  literary  gossipings 
were  destined  to  have  a  deleterious  effect  upon 
his  reputation.  Boswell  was  at  that  time  a  young 
man,  light,  buoyant,  pushing,  and  presumptuous. 
He  had  a  morbid  passion  for  mingling  in  the  so- 
ciety of  men  noted  for  wit  and  learning,  and  had 
just  arrived  from  Scotland,  bent  upon  making  his 
way  into  the  literary  circles  of  the  metropolis.  An 
intimacy  with  Dr.  Johnson,  the  great  literary  lumi- 
nary of  the  day,  was  the  crowning  object  of  his  as- 
piring and  somewhat  ludicrous  ambition.  He  ex- 
pected to  meet  him  at  a  dinner  to  which  he  was  in- 
vited at  Davies  the  bookseller's,  but  was  disap- 
pointed. Goldsmith  was  present,  but  he  was  not  as 
yet  sufficiently  renowned  to  excite  the  reverence  of 
Boswell.  "At  this  time,"  says  he  in  his  notes, 
"  I  think  he  had  published  nothing  with  his  name, 
though  it  was  pretty  generally  understood  that 
one  Dr.  Goldsmith  was  the  author  of  '  An  Inquiry 
into  the  Present  State  of  Polite  Learning  in  Eu- 
rope,' and  of  '  The  Citizen  of  the  World,'  a  series 
of  letters  supposed  to  be  written  from  London  by 
a  Chinese." 

A  conversation  took  place  at  table  between 
Goldsmith  and  Mr.  Robert  Dodsley,  compiler  of 
the  well-known  collection  of  modern  poetry,  as  to 
the  merits  of  the  current  poetry  of  the  day.  Gold- 
smith declared  there  was  none  of  superior  merit. 
Dodsley  cited  his  own  collection  in  proof  of  the 
contrary.  "  It  is  true,"  said  he,  "  we  can  boast 
ot  no  palaces  nowadays,  like  Dryden's  Ode  to 
St.  Cecilia's  Day,  but  we  have  villages  composed 
of  very  pretty  houses."  Goldsmith,  however, 
maintained  that  there  was  nothing  above  medi- 
ocrity, an  opinion  in  which  Johnson,  to  whom  it 
was  repeated,  concurred,  and  with  reason,  for  the 
era  was  one  of  the  dead  levels  of  British  poetry. % 

Boswell  has  made  no  note  of  this  conversation  ; 
he  was  an  Unitarian  in  his  literary  devotion,  and 
disposed  to  worship  none  but  Johnson.  Little 
Davies  endeavored  to  console  him  for  his  disap- 
pointment, and  to  stay  the  stomach  of  his  curios- 
ity, by  giving  him  imitations  of  the  great  lexicog- 
rapher ;  mouthing  his  words,  rolling  his  head, 
and  assuming  as  ponderous  a  manner  as  his  petty 
person  would  permit.  Boswell  was  shortly  after- 
ward made  happy  by  an  introduction  to  Johnson, 
of  whom  he  became  the  obsequious  satellite. 
From  him  he  likewise  imbibed  a  more  favorable 
opinion  of  Goldsmith's  merits,  though  he  was  fain 
to  consider  them  derived  in  a  great  measure  from 
his  Magnus  Apollo.  "  He  haclsagacity  enough," 
says  he,  "  to  cultivate  assiduously  the  acquaintance 
of  Johnson,  and  his  faculties  were  gradually  en- 
larged by  the  contemplation  of  such  a  model.  To 
me  and  many  others  it  appeared  that  he  studiously 
copied  the  manner  of  Johnson,  though,  indeed, 
upon  a  smaller  scale."  So  on  another  occasion 
he  calls  him  "  one  of  the  brightest  ornaments  of 
the  Johnsonian  school."  "  His  respectlul  attach- 
ment to  Johnson,"  adds  he,  "was  then  at  its 
height  ;  for  his  own  literary  reputation  had  not 
yet  distinguished  him  so  much  as  to  excite  a  vain 
desire  of  competition  with  his  great  master." 

What  beautiful  instances  does  the  garrulous 
Boswell  give  of  the  goodness  of  heart  of  Johnson, 
and  the  passing  homage  to  it  by  Goldsmith.  They 
were  speaking  of  a  Mr.  Levett,  long  an  inmate  of 


Johnson's  house  and  a  dependent  on  his  bounty  ; 
but  who,  Boswell  thought,  must  be  an  irksome 
charge  upon  him.  "  He  is  poor  and  honest,"  said 
Goldsmith,  "  which  is  recommendation  enough  to 
Johnson.' 

Boswell  mentioned  another  person  of  a  very  bad 
character,  and  wondered  at  Johnson's  kindness  to 
him.  "  He  is  now  become  miserable,"  said  Gold- 
smith, "  and  that  insures  the  protection  of  John- 
son." Encomiums  like  these  speak  almost  as 
much  for  the  heart  of  him  who  praises  as  of  him 
who  is  praised. 

Subsequently,  when  Boswell  had  become  more 
intense  in  his  literary  idolatry,  he  affected  to  un- 
dervalue Goldsmith,  and  a  lurking  hostility  to  him 
is  discernible  throughout  his  writings,  which  some 
have  attributed  to  a  silly  spirit  of  jealousy  of  the 
superior  esteem  evinced  for  the  poet  by  Dr.  John- 
son. We  have  a  gleam  of  this  in  his  account  of 
the  first  evening  he  spent  in  company  with  those 
two  eminent  authors  at  their  famous  resort,  the 
Mitre  Tavern,  in  Fleet  Street.  This  took  place 
on  the  ist  of  July,  1763.  The  trio  supped  together, 
and  passed  some  time  in  literary  conversation. 
On  quitting  the  tavern,  Johnson,  who  had  now 
been  sociably  acquainted  with  Goldsmith  for  two 
years,  and  knew  his  merits,  took  him  with  him  to 
drink  tea  with  his  blind  pensioner,  Miss  Williams., 
a  high  privilege  among  his  intimates  and  ad- 
mirers. To  Boswell,  a  recent  acquaintance  whose 
intrusive  sycophancy  had  not  yet  made  its  way 
into  his  confidential  intimacy,  he  gave  no  invita- 
tion. Boswell  felt  it  with  all  the  jealousy  of  a  lit- 
tle mind.  "  Dr.  Goldsmith,"  says  he,  in  his 
memoirs,  "  being  a  privileged  man,  went  with 
him,  strutting  away,  and  calling  tome  with  an  air 
of  superiority,  like  that  of  an  esoteric  over  an 
exoteric  disciple  of  a  sage  of -antiquity,  'I  go  to 
Miss  Williams.'  I  confess  I  then  envied  him  this 
mighty  privilege,  of  which  he  seemed  to  be  so 
proud  ;  but  it  was  not  long  before  I  obtained  the 
same  mark  of  distinction." 

Obtained  !  but  how  ?  not  like  Goldsmith,  by  the 
force  of  unpretending  but  congenial  merit,  but  by 
a  course  of  the  most  pushing,  contriving,  and 
spaniel-like  subserviency.  Really,  the  ambition 
of  the  man  to  illustrate  his  mental  insignificance, 
by  continually  placing  himself  in  juxtaposition 
with  the  great  lexicographer,  has  something  in  it 
perfectly  ludicrous.  Never,  since  the  clays  of  Don 
Quixote  and  Sancho  Panza,  has  there  been  pre- 
sented to  the  world  a  more  whimsically  contrasted 
pair  of  associates  than  Johnson  and  Boswell. 

"  Who  is  this  Scotch  cur  at  Johnson's  heels  ?" 
asked  some  one  when  Boswell  had  worked  his 
way  into  incessant  companionship.  "He  is  not 
a  cur,"  replied  Goldsmith,  "  you  are  too  severe.; 
he  is  only  a  bur.  Tom  Davies  flung  him  at  John- 
son in  sport,  and  he  has  the  faculty  of  sticking." 


CHAPTER  -XIV. 

HOGARTH  A  VISITOR  AT  ISLINGTON— HIS  CHAR- 
ACTER —  STREET  STUDIES  —  SYMPATHIES  BE- 
TWEEN AUTHORS  AND  PAINTERS— SIR  JOSHUA 
REYNOLDS — HIS  CHARACTER — HIS  DINNERS  — 
THE  LITERARY  CLUB— ITS  MEMBERS— JOHN- 
SON'S REVELS  WITH  LANKEY  AND  BEAU— GOLD- 
SMITH AT  THE  CLUB. 

AMONG  the  intimates  who  used  to  visit  the  poet 
occasionally  in  his  retreat  at  Islington,  was  Ho- 
garth the  painter.  Goldsmith  had  spoken  well  of 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


211 


him  in  his  essays  in  the  Public  Ledger,  and  this 
formed  the  first  link  in  their  friendship.  He  was 
at  this  time  upward  of  sixty  years  of  age,  and  is 
described  as  a  stout,  active,  bustling  little  man, 
in  aisky-blue  coat,  satirical  and  dogmatic,  yet  full 
of  real  benevolence  and  the  love  of  human  nature. 
He  was  the  moralist  and  philosopher  of  the  pen- 
cil ;  like  Goldsmith  he  had  sounded  the  depths  of 
vice  and  misery,  without  being  polluted  by  them  ; 
and  though  his  picturings  had  not  the  pervading 
amenity  of  those  of  the  essayist,  and  dwelt  more 
on  the  crimes  and  vices  than  the  follies  and  humors 
of  mankind,  yet  they  were  all  calculated,  in  like 
manner,  to  fill  the  mind  with  instruction  and  pre- 
cept, and  to  make  the  heart  better. 

Hogarth  does  not  appear  to  have  had  much  of 
the  rural  feeling  with  which  Goldsmith  was  so 
amply  endowed,  and  may  not  have  accompanied 
him  in  his  strolls  about  hedges  and  green  lanes  ; 
but  he  was  a  fit  companion  with  whom  to  explore 
the  mazes  of  London,  in  which  he  was  continually 
on  the  look-out  for  character  and  incident.  One 
of  Hogarth's  admirers  speaks  of  having  come 
upon  him  in  Castle  Street,  engaged  in  one  of  his 
street  studies,  watching  two  boys  who  were  quar- 
relling ;  patting  one  on  the  back  who  flinched, 
and  endeavoring  to  spirit  him  up  to  a  fresh  en- 
counter. "  At  him  again  !  D —  him,  if  I  would 
take  it  of  him  !  at  him  again  !" 

A  frail  memorial  of  this  intimacy  between  the 
painter  and  the  poet  exists  in  a  portrait  in  oil, 
called  "  Goldsmith's  Hostess."  It  is  supposed  to 
have  been  painted  by  Hogarth  in  the  course  of  his 
visits  to  Islington,  and  given  by  him  to  the  poet 
as  a  means  ot  paying  his  landlady.  There  are  no 
friendships  among  men  of  talents  more  likely  to 
be  sincere  than  those  between  painters  and  poets. 
Possessed  of  the  same  qualities  of  mind,  governed 
by  the  same  principles  of  taste  and  natural  laws 
of  grace  and  beauty,  but  applying  them  to  differ- 
ent yet  mutually  illustrative  arts,  they  are  con- 
stantly in  sympathy  and  never  in  collision  with 
each  other. 

A  still  more  congenial  intimacy  of  the  kind  was 
that  contracted  by  Goldsmith  with  Mr.  afterward 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  The  latter  was  now  about 
forty  years  of  age,  a  few  years  older  than  the  poet, 
whom  he  charmed  by  the  blandness  and  benignity 
of  his  manners,  and  the  nobleness  and  generosity 
of  his  disposition,  as  much  as  he  did  by  the  graces 
of  his  pencil  and  the  magic  of  his  coloring.  They 
were  men  of  kindred  genius,  excelling  in  corre- 
sponding qualities  of  their  several  arts,  for  style  in 
writing  is  what  color  is  in  painting  ;  both  are  in- 
nate endowments,  and  equally  magical  in  their 
effects.  Certain  graces  and  harmonies  of  both 
may  be  acquired  by  diligent  study  and  imitation, 
but  only  in  a  limited  degree  ;  whereas  by  their 
natural  possessors  they  are  exercised  spontaneous- 
ly, almost  unconsciously,  and  with  ever-varying 
fascination.  Reynolds  soon  understood  and  ap- 
preciated the  merits  of  Goldsmith,  and  a  sincere 
and  lasting  friendship  ensued  between  them. 

At  Reynolds's  house  Goldsmith  mingled  in  a 
higher  range  of  company  than  he  had  been  accus- 
tomed to.  The  fame  of  this  celebrated  artist,  and 
his  amenity  of  manners,  were  gathering  round 
him  men  of  talents  of  all  kinds,  and  the  increasing 
affluence  of  his  circumstances  enabled  him  to  give 
full  indulgence  to  his  hospitable  disposition.  Poor 
Goldsmith  had  not  yet,  like  Dr.  Johnson,  acquired 
reputation  enough  to  atone  for  his  external  defects 
and  his  want  ol  the  air  of  good  society.  Miss 
Reynolds  used  to  inveigh  against  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, which  gave  her  the  idea,  she  said,  of  a 


low  mechanic,  a  journeyman  tailor.  One  evening 
at  a  large  supper  party,  being  called  upon  to  give 
as  a  toast,  the  ugliest  man  she  knew,  she  gave 
Dr.  Goldsmith,  upon  which  a  lady  who  sat  op- 
posite, and  whom  she  had  never  met  before, 
shook  hands  with  her  across  the  table,  and 
"  hoped  to  becorr.e  better  acquainted." 

We  have  a  graphic  and  amusing  picture  of  Rey- 
nolds's hospitable  but  motley  establishment,  in  an 
account  given  by  a  Mr.  Courtenay  to  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  ;  though  it  speaks  of  a  time  after  Rey- 
nolds had  received  the  honor  of  knighthood. 
"There  was  something  singular,"  said  he,  "in 
the  style  and  economy  of  Sir  Joshua's  table  that 
contributed  to  pleasantry  and  good-humor,  a 
coarse,  inelegant  plenty,  without  any  regard  to 
order  and  arrangement.  At  five  o'clock  precise- 
ly, dinner  was  served,  whether  all  the  invited 
guests  were  arrived  or  not.  Sir  Joshua  was  never 
so  fashionably  ill-bred  as  to  wait  an  hour  perhaps 
for  two  or  three  persons  of  rank  or  title,  and  put 
the  rest  of  the  company  out  ot  humor  by  this  in- 
vidious distinction.  His  invitations,  however,  did 
not  regulate  the  number  of  his  guests.  Many 
dropped  in  uninvited.  A  table  prepared  for  seven 
or  eight  was  often  compelled  to  contain  fifteen  or 
sixteen.  There  was  a  consequent  deficiency  of 
knives,  forks,  plates,  and  glasses.  The  attend- 
ance was  in  the  same  style,  and  those  who  were 
knowing  in  the  ways  of  the  house  took  care  on 
sitting  down  to  call  instantly  for  beer,  bread,  or 
wine,  that  they  might  secure  a  supply  before  the 
first  course  was  over.  He  was  once  prevailed  on 
to  furnish  the  table  with  decanters  and  glasses  at 
dinner,  to  save  time  and  prevent  confusion.  These 
gradually  were  demolished  in  the  course  of  ser- 
vice, and  were  never  replaced.  These  trifling 
embarrassments,  however,  only  served  to  enhance 
the  hilarity  and  singular  pleasure  of  the  entertain- 
ment. The  wine,  cookery  and  dishes  were  but 
little  attended  to  ;  nor  was  the  fish  or  venison  ever 
talked  ot  or  recommended.  Amid  this  convivial 
animated  bustle  among  his  guests,  our  host  sat 
perfectly  composed  ;  always  attentive  to  what 
was  said,  never  minding  what  was  ate  or  drank, 
but  left  every  one  at  perfect  liberty  to  scramble 
for  himself." 

Out  of  the  casual  but  frequent  meeting  of  men 
of  talent  at  this  hospitable  board  rose  that  associa- 
tion of  wits,  authors,  scholars,  and  statesmen,  re- 
nowned as  the  Literary  Club.  Reynolds  was  the 
first  to  propose  a  regular  association  of  the  kind, 
and  was  eagerly  seconded  by  Johnson,  who  pro- 
posed as  a  model  a  club  which  he  had  formed 
many  years  previously  in  Ivy  Lane,  but  which  was 
now  extinct.  Like  that  club  the  number  of  mem- 
bers was  limited  to  nine.  They  were  to  meet  and 
sup  together  once  a  week,  on  Monday  night,  at 
the  Turk's  Head  on  Gerard  Street,  Soho,  and  two 
members  were  to  constitute  a  meeting.  It  took  a 
regular  form  in  the  year  1764,  but  did  not  receive 
its  literary  appellation  until  several  years  after- 
ward. 

The  original  members  were  Reynolds,  Johnson, 
Burke,  Dr.  Nugent,  Bennet  Langton,  Topham 
Beauclerc,  Chamier,  Hawkins,  and  Goldsmith  ; 
and  here  a  few  words  concerning  some  ot  the 
members  may  be  acceptable.  Burke  was  at  that 
time  about  thirty-three  years  of  age  ;  he  had 
mingled  a  little  in  politics,  and  been  Under  Sec- 
retary to  Hamilton  at  Dublin,  but  was  again  a 
writer  for  the  booksellers,  and  as  yet  but  in  the 
dawning  of  his  fame.  Dr.  Nugent  was  his  father- 
in-law,  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  a  physician  of 
talent  and  instruction,  Mr.  afterward  Sir  Joha 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


Hawkins  was  admitted  into  this  association  from 
having  been  a  member  of  Johnson's  Ivy  Lane 
club.  Originally  an  attorney,  he  had  retired  from 
the  practice  of  the  law,  in  consequence  of  a  large 
fortune  which  fell  to  him  in  right  of  his  wife,  and 
was  now  a  Middlesex  magistrate.  He  was,  more- 
over, a  dabbler  in  literature  and  music,  and  was 
actually  engaged  on  a  history  of  music,  which  he 
subsequently  published  in  five  ponderous  volumes. 
To  him  we  are  also  indebted  for  a  biography  of 
Johnson,  which  appeared  after  the  death  of  that 
eminent  man.  Hawkins  was  as  mean  and  par- 
simonious as  he  was  pompous  and  conceited.  He 
forbore  to  partake  of  the  suppers  at  the  club,  and 
begged  therefore  to  be  excused  from  paying  his 
share  of  the  reckoning.  "  And  was  he  excused  ?" 
asked  Dr.  Burney  of  Johnson.  "  Oh  yes,  lor  no 
man  is  angry  at  another  for  being  inferior  to  him- 
self. We  all  scorned  him  and  admitted  his  plea. 
Yet  I  really  believe  him  to  be  an  honest  man  at 
bottom,  though  to  be  sure  he  is  penurious,  and  he 
is  mean,  and  it  must  be  owned  he  has  a  tendency 
to  savageness."  He  did  not  remain  above  two 
or  three  years  in  the  club  ;  being  in  a  manner 
elbowed  out  in  consequence  of  his  rudeness  to 
Burke. 

Mr.  Anthony  Chamier  was  secretary  in  the  War 
Office,  and  a  friend  of  Beauclerc,  by  whom  he  was 
proposed.  We  have  left  our  mention  of  Bennet 
Langton  and  Topham  Beauclerc  until  the  last,  be- 
cause we  have  most  to  say  about  them.  They 
were  doubtless  induced  to  join  the  club  through 
their  devotion  to  Johnson,  and  the  intimacy  of 
these  two  very  young  and  aristocratic  young  men 
with  the  stern  and  somewhat  melancholy  moralist 
is  among  the  curiosities  of  literature. 

Bennet  Langton  was  of  an  ancient  family,  who 
held  their  ancestral  estate  of  Langton  in  Lincoln- 
shire, a  great  title  to  respect  with  Johnson. 
"  Langton,  sir,"  he  would  say,  "  has  a  grant  of 
free  warren  from  Henry  the  Second  ;  and  Cardinal 
Stephen  Langton,  in  King  John's  feign,  was  of 
this  family." 

Langton  was  of  a  mild,  contemplative,  enthusi- 
astic nature.  When  but  eighteen  years  of  age  he 
was  so  delighted  with  reading  Johnson's  "  Ram- 
bler," that  he  came  to  London  chiefly  with  a  view 
to  obtain  an  introduction  to  the  author.  Boswell 
gives  us  an  account  of  his  first  interview,  which 
took  place  in  the  morning.  It  is  not  often  that 
the  personal  appearance  of  an  author  agrees  with 
the  preconceived  ideas  of  his  admirer.  Langton, 
from  perusing  the  writings  of  Johnson,  expected 
to  find  him  a  decent,  well  dressed,  in  short  a 
remarkably  decorous  philosopher.  Instead  of 
which,  down  from  his  bed  chamber  about  noon, 
came,  as  newly  risen,  a  large  uncouth  figure,  with 
a  little  dark  wig  which  scarcely  covered  his  head, 
and  his  clothes  hanging  loose  about  him.  But 
his  conversation  was  so  rich,  so  animated,  and  so 
forcible,  and  his  religious  and  political  notions  so 
congenial  with  those  in  which  Langton  had  been 
educated,  that  he  conceived  for  him  that  venera* 
tion  and  attachment  which  he  ever  preserved. 

Langton  went  to  pursue  his  studies  at  Trinity 
College,  Oxford,  where  Johnson  saw  much  of  him 
during  a  visit  which  he  paid  to  the  university. 
He 'found  him  in  close  intimacy  with  Topham 
Beauclerc,  a  youth  two  years  older  than  himself, 
very  gay  and  dissipated,  and  wondered  what  sym- 
pathies could  draw  two  young  men  together  of 
such  opposite  characters.  On  becoming  acquaint- 
ed with  Beauclerc  he  found  that,  rake  though  he 
was,  he  possessed  an  ardent  love  of  literature,  an 
acute  understanding,  polished  wit,  innate  gentility 


and  high  aristocratic  breeding.  He  was,  more- 
over, the  only  son  of  Lord  Sidney  Beauclerc  and 
grandson  of  the  Duke  of  St.  Albans,  and  was 
thought  in  some  particulars  to  have  a  resemblance 
to  Charles  the  Second.  These  were  high  recom- 
mendations with  Johnson,  and  when  the  youth 
testified  a  profound  respect  for  him  and  an  ardent 
admiration  of  his  talents  the  conquest  was  com- 
plete, so  that  in  a  "  short  time,"  says  Boswell, 
"  the  moral  pious  Johnson  and  the  gay  dissipated 
Beauclerc  were  companions." 

The  intimacy  begun  in  college  chambers  was 
continued  when  the  youth  came  to  town  during 
the  vacations.  The  uncouth,  unwieldy  moralist, 
was  flattered  at  finding  himself  an  object  of  idola- 
try to  two  high-born,  high-bred,  aristocratic  young 
men,  and  throwing  gravity  aside,  was  ready  to 
join  in  their  vagaries  and  play  the  part  of  a 
"  young  man  upon  town."  Such  at  least  is  the 
picture  given  of  him  by  Boswell  on  one  occasion 
when  Beauclerc  and  Langton  having  supped 
together  at  a  tavern  determined  to  give  Johnson  a 
rouse  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  They  ac- 
cordingly rapped  violently  at  the  door  of  his  cham- 
bers in  the  Temple.  The  indignant  sage  sallied 
forth  in  his  shirt,  poker  in  hand,  and  a  little  black 
wig  on  the  top  of  his  head,  instead  of  helmet  ; 
prepared  to  wreak  vengeance  on  the  assailants 
of  his  castle  ;  but  when  his  two  young  friends, 
Lankey  and  Beau,  as  he  used  to  call  them,  pre- 
sented themselves,  summoning  him  forth  to  a 
morning  ramble,  his  whole  manner  changed. 
"  What,  is  it  you,  ye  dogs  ?"  cried  he.  "  Faith, 
I'll  have  a  frisk  with  you  !" 

So  said  so  done.  They  sallied  forth  together 
into  Covent  Garden  ;  figured  among  the  green 
grocers  and  fruit  women,  just  come  in  from  the 
country  with  their  hampers  ;  repaired  to  a  neigh- 
boring tavern,  where  Johnson  brewed  a  bowl  of 
bishop,  a  favorite  beverage  with  him,  grew  merry 
over  his  cups,  and  anathematized  sleep  in  two 
lines  from  Lord  Lansdowne's  drinking  song  : 

"  Short,  very  short,  be  then  thy  reign, 
For  I'm  in  haste  to  laugh  and  drink  again." 

They  then  took  boat  again,  rowed  to  Billingsgate, 
and  Johnson  and  Beauclerc  determined,  like 
"  mad  wags,"  to  "  keep  it  up"  for  the  rest  of  the 
day.  Langton,  however,  the  most  sober-minded 
of  the  three,  pleaded  an  engagement  to  breakfast 
with  some  young  ladies  ;  whereupon  the  great 
moralist  reproached  him  with  "  leaving  his  social 
friends  to  go  and  sit  with  a  set  of  wretched  nn- 
ideal  girls." 

This  madcap  freak  of  the  great  lexicographer 
made  a  sensation,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
among  his  intimates.  "  I  heard  of  your  frolic 
t'other  night,"  said  Garrick  to  him  ;  "  you'll  be  in 
the  Chronicle."  He  uttered  worse  lorebodings 
to  others.  "  I  shall  have  my  old  friend  to  bail  out 
of  the  round-house,"  said  he.  Johnson,  how- 
ever, valued  himself  upon  having  thus  enacted  a 
chapter  in  the  "  Rake's  Progress,"  and  crowed, 
over  Garrick  on  the  occasion.  "  He  durst  not  do 
such  a  thing  !"  chuckled  he,  "  his  wife  would  not 
let  him  !" 

When  these  two  young  men  entered  the  club, 
Langton  was  about  twenty-two,  and  Beauclerc 
about  twenty-lour  years  of  age,  and  both  were 
launched  on  London  life.  Langton,  however, 
was  still  the  mild,  enthusiastic  scholar,  steeped  to 
the  lips  in  Greek,  with  fine  conversational  powers, 
and  an  invaluable  talent  for  listening.  He  was 
upward  of  six  feet  high,  and  very  spare.  ''  Oh  ! 
that  we  could  .sketch  him,"  exclaims  Miss  Haw- 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


213 


kins,  in  her  Memoirs,  "  with  his  mild  counte- 
nance, his  elegant  features,  and  his  sweet  smile, 
sitting  with  one  leg  twisted  round  the  other,  as  if 
fearing  to  occupy  more  space  than  was  equitable  ; 
his  person  inclining  forward,  as  if  wanting 
strength  to  support  his  weight,  and  his  arms 
crossed  over  his  bosom,  or  his  hands  locked 
together  on  his  knee."  Beauclerc,  on  such  occa- 
sions, sportively  compared  him  to  a  stork  in  Ra- 
phael's Cartoons,  standing  on  one  leg.  Beauclerc 
was  more  "  a  man  upon  town,"  a  lounger  in  St. 
James's  Street,  an  associate  with  George  Selwyn, 
with  Walpole,  and  other  aristocratic  wits  ;  a  man 
of  fashion  at  court ;  a  casual  frequenter  of  the 
gaming-table  ;  yet,  with  all  this,  he  alternated  in 
the  easiest  and  happiest  manner  the  scholar  and 
the  man  of  letters  ;  lounged  into  the  club  with  the 
most  perfect  self-possession,  bringing  with  him 
the  careless  grace  and  polished  wit  of  high-bred 
society,  but  making  himself  cordially  at  home 
among  his  learned  fellow  members. 

The  gay  yet  lettered  rake  maintained  his  sway 
over  Johnson,  who  was  fascinated  by  that  air  of 
the  world,  that  ineffable  tone  of  good  society  in 
which  he  felt  himself  deficient,  especially  as  the 
possessor  of  it  always  paid  homage  to  his  superior 
talent.  "  Beauclerc,"  he  would  say,  using  a  quo- 
tation from  Pope,  "  has  a  love  of  folly,  but  a  scorn 
of  fools  ;  everything  he  does  shows  the  one,  and 
everything  he  says  the  other."  Beauclerc  de- 
lighted in  rallying  the  stern  moralist  of  whom 
others  stood  in  awe,  and  no  one,  according  to 
Boswell,  could  take  equal  liberty  with  him  with 
impunity.  Johnson,  it  is  well  known,  was  often 
shabby  and  negligent  in  his  dress,  and  not  over- 
cleanly  in  his  person.  On  receiving  a  pension  from 
the  crown,  his  friends  vied  with  each  other  in 
respectful  congratulations.  Beauclerc  simply 
scanned  his  person  with  a  whimsical  glance,  and 
hoped  that,  like  Falstaff,  "  he'd  in  future  purge 
and  live  cleanly  like  a  gentleman."  Johnson  took 
the  hint  with  unexpected  good  humor,  and  profited 
by  it. 

Still  Beauclerc's  satirical  vein,  which  darted 
shafts  on  every  side,  was  not  always  tolerated  by 
Johnson.  "  Sir,"  said  he  on  one  occasion,  "  you 
never  open  your  mouth  but  with  intention  to  give 
pain  ;  and  you  have  often  given  me  pain,  not  from 
the  power  of  what  you  have  said,  but  from  seeing 
your  intention." 

When  it  was  at  first  proposed  to  enroll  Gold- 
smith among  the  members  of  this  association, 
there  seems  to  have  been  some  demur  ;  at  least 
so  says  the  pompous  Hawkins.  "  As  he  wrote 
for  the  booksellers,  we  of  the  club  looked  on 
him  as  a  mere  literary  drudge,  equal  to  the 
task  of  compiling  and  translating,  but  little  ca- 
pable of  original  and  still  less  of  poetical  com- 
position." 

Even  for  some  time  after  his  admission,  he  con- 
tinued to  be  regarded  in  a  dubious  light  by  some 
of  the  members.  Johnson  and  Reynolds,  of 
course,  were  well  aware  oi  his  merits,  nor  was 
Burke  a  stranger  to  them  ;  but  to  the  others  he 
was  as  yet  a  sealed  book,  and  the  outside  was  not 
prepossessing.  His  ungainly  person  and  awk- 
ward manners  were  against  him  with  men  accus- 
tomed to  the  graces  of  society,  and  he  was  not 
sufficiently  at  home  to  give  play  to  his  humor 
and  to  that  bonhommie  which  won  the  hearts  of 
all  who  knew  him.  He  felt  strange  and  out  of 
place  in  this  new  sphere  ;  he  felt  at  times  the  cool 
satirical  eye  of  the  courtly  Beauclerc  scanning 
him,  and  the  more  he  attempted  to  appear  at  his 
ease,  the  more  awkward  he  became. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

JOHNSON  A  MONITOR  TO  GOLDSMITH— FINDS 
HIM  IN  DISTRESS  WITH  HIS  LANDLADY — RE- 
LIEVED BY  THE  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD — THE 
ORATORIO— POEM  OF  THE  TRAVELLER — THE 
POET  AND  HIS  DOG— SUCCESS  OF  THE  POEM — 
ASTONISHMENT  OF  THE  CLUB — OBSERVATIONS 
ON  THE  POEM. 

JOHNSON  had  now  become  one  of  Goldsmith's 
best  friends  and  advisers.  He  knew  all  the  weak 
points  of  his  character,  but  he  knew  also  his 
merits  ;  and  while  he  would  rebuke  him  like  a 
child,  and  rail  at  his  errors  and  follies,  he  would 
suffer  no  one  else  to  undervalue  him.  Goldsmith 
knew  the  soundness  of  his  judgment  and  his  prac- 
tical benevolence,  and  often  sought  his  counsel 
and  aid  amid  the  difficulties  into  which  his  heed- 
lessness  was  continually  plunging  him. 

"I  received  one  morning,"  says  Johnson,  "a 
message  from  poor  Goldsmith  that  he  was  in 
great  distress,  and,  as  it  was  not  in  his  power  to 
come  to  me,  begging  that  I  would  come  to  him  as 
soon  as  possible.  1  sent  him  a  guinea,  and  prom- 
ised to  come  to  him  directly.  I  accordingly  went 
as  soon  as  I  was  dressed,  and  found  that  his  land- 
lady had  arrested  him  for  his  rent,  at  which  he 
was  in  a  violent  passion  :  I  perceived  that  he  had 
already  changed  my  guinea,  and  had  a  bottle  of 
Madeira  and  a  glass  before  him.  I  put  the  cork 
into  the  bottle,  desired  he  would  be  calm,  and 
began  to  talk  to  him  of  the  means  by  which  he 
might  be  extricated.  He  then  told  me  he  had  a 
novel  ready  for  the  press,  which  he  produced  to 
me.  I  looked  into  it  and  saw  its  merit ;  told  the 
landlady  I  should  soon  return  ;  and,  having  gone 
to  a  bookseller,  sold  it  for  sixty  pounds.  I 
brought  Goldsmith  the  money,  and  he  discharged 
his  rent,  not  without  rating  his  landlady  in  a  high 
tone  for  having  used  him  so  ill." 

The  novel  in  question  was  the  "  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field"  ;  the  bookseller  to  whom  Johnson  sold  it 
was  Francis  Newbery,  nephew  to  John.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  this  captivating  work,  which  has 
obtained  and  preserved  an  almost  unrivalled  popu- 
larity in  various  languages,  was  so  little  appreci- 
ated by  the  bookseller,  that  he  kept  it  by  him  for 
nearly  two  years  unpublished  ! 

Goldsmith  had,  as  yet,  produced  nothing  of 
moment  in  poetry.  Among  his  literary  jobs,  it  is 
true,  was  an  oratorio  entitled  "  The  Captivity," 
founded  on  the  bondage  of  the  Israelites  in  Baby- 
lon. It  was  one  of  those  unhappy  offsprings  of 
the  muse  ushered  into  existence  amid  the  distor- 
tions of  music.  Most  of  the  oratorio  has  passed 
into  oblivion  ;  but  the  following  song  from  it  will 
never  die  : 

"The  wretch  condemned  from  life  to  part, 

Still,  still  on  hope  relies. 
And  every  pang  that  rends  the  neart 
Bids  expectation  lise. 

"  Hope,  like  the  glimmering  taper's  light, 

Illumes  and  cheers  our  way  ; 
And  still,  as  darker  grows  the  night, 
Emits  a  brighter  ray." 

Goldsmith  distrusted  his  qualifications  to  suc- 
ceed in  poetry,  and  doubted  the  disposition  of  the 
public  mind  in  regard  to  it.  "  I  fear,"  said  he,  "  I 
have  come  too  late  into  the  world  ;  Pope  and  other 
poets  have  taken  up  the  places  in  the  temple  of 
Fame  ;  and  as  few  at  any  period  can  possess 
poetical  reputation,  a  man  of  genius  can  now 


214 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


hardly  acquire  it."  Again,  on  another  occasion, 
he  observes  :  "  Of  all  kinds  of  ambition,  as  things 
are  now  circumstanced,  perhaps  that  which  pur- 
sues poetical  fame  is  the  wildest.  What  irom  the 
increased  refinement  of  the  times,  from  the  diver- 
ity  of  judgment  produced  by  opposing  systems  of 
riticism,  and  from  the  more  prevalent  divisions 
if  opinion  influenced  by  party,  the  strongest  and 
happiest  efforts  can  expect  to  please  but  in  a  very 
narrow  circle." 

At  this  very  time  he  had  by  him  his  poem  of 
"  The  Traveller."  The  plan  of  it,  as  has  already 
been  observed,  was  conceived  many  years  before, 
during  his  travels  in  Switzerland,  and  a  sketch  of 
it  sent  from  that  country  to  his  brother  Henry  in 
Ireland.  The  original  outline  is  said  to  have  em- 
braced a  wider  scope  ;  but  it  was  probably  con- 
tracted through  diffidence,  in  the  process  of  finish- 
ing the  parts.  It  had  laid  by  him  for  several 
years  in  a  crude  state,  and  it  was  with  extreme 
hesitation  and  after  much  revision  that  he  at 
length  submitted  it  to  Dr.  Johnson.  The  frank 
and  warm  approbation  of  the  latter  encouraged 
him  to  finish  it  for  the  press  ;  and  Dr.  Johnson 
himself  contributed  a  few  lines  toward  the  conclu- 
sion. 

We  hear  much  about  "  poetic  inspiration,"  and 
the  "  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling  ;"  but  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  gives  an  anecdote  of  Goldsmith 
while  engaged  upon  his  poem,  calculated  to  cure 
our  notions  about  the  ardor  of  composition.  Call- 
ing upon  the  poet  one  clay,  he  opened  the  door 
without  ceremony,  and  found  him  in  the  double 
occupation  of  turning  a  couplet  and  teaching  a 
pet  dog  to  sit  upon  his  haunches.  At  one  time 
he  would  glance  his  eye  at  his  desk,  and  at  another 
shake  his  finger  at  the  dog  to  make  him  retain  his 
position.  The  last  lines  on  the  page  were  still 
wet  ;  they  form  a  part  of  the  description  of  Italy  : 

"  By  sports  like  these  are  all  their  cares  beguiled, 
The  sports  of  children  satisfy  the  child." 

Goldsmith,  with  his  usual  good-humor,  joined  in 
the  laugh  caused  by  his  whimsical  employment, 
and  acknowledged  that  his  boyish  sport  with  the 
dog  suggested  the  stanza. 

The  poem  was  published  on  the  iQth  of  Decem- 
ber, 1764,  in  a  quarto  form,  by  Newbery,  and  was 
the  first  of  his  works  to  which  Goldsmith  prefixed 
his  name.  As  a  testimony  of  cherished  and  well- 
merited  affection,  he  dedicated  it  to  his  brother 
Henry.  There  is  an  amusing  affectation  of  in- 
difference as  to  its  fate  expressed  in  the  dedica- 
tion. "  What  reception  a  poem  may  find,"  says 
he,  "  which  has  neither  abuse,  party,  nor  blank 
verse  to  support  it,  I  cannot  tell,  nor  am  I  solicit- 
ous to  know."  The  truth  is,  no  one  was  more 
emulous  and  anxious  for  poetic  fame  ;  and  never 
was  he  more  anxious  than  in  the  present  instance, 
for  it  was  his  grand  stake.  Dr.  Johnson  aided 
the  launching  of  the  poem  by  a  favorable  notice 
in  the  Critical  Review  ;  other  periodical  works 
came  out  in  its  favor.  Some  of  the  author's 
friends  complained  that  it  did  not  command  in- 
stant and  wide  popularity  ;  that  it  was  a  poem  to 
win,  not  to  strike  ;  it  went  on  rapidly  increasing 
in  favor  ;  in  three  months  a  second  edition  was 
issued  ;  shortly  afterward  a  third  ;  then  a  fourth  ; 
and,  before  the  year  was  out,  the  author  was  pro- 
nounced the  best  poet  of  his  time. 

The  appearance  of  "  The  Traveller"  at  once 
altered  Goldsmith's  intellectual  standing  in  the 
estimation  of  society  ;  but  its  effect  upon  the  club, 
if  we  may  judge  from  the  account  given  by  Haw- 
kins, was  most  ludicrous.  They  were  lost  in  as- 


tonishment that  a  "  newspaper  essayist"  and 
"  bookseller's  drudge"  should  have  written  such 
a  poem.  On  the  evening  of  its  announcement  to 
them  Goldsmith  had  gone  away  early,  alter  "  rat- 
tling away  as  usual,"  and  they  knew  not  how  to 
reconcile  his  heedless  garrulity  with  the  serene 
beauty,  the  easy  grace,  the  sound  good  sense,  and 
the  occasional  elevation  of  his  poetry.  They 
could  scarcely  believe  that  such  magic  numbers 
had  flowed  from  a  man  to  whom  in  general,  says 
Johnson,  "  it  was  with  difficulty  they  could  give 
a  hearing."  "  Well,"  exclaimed  Chamier,  "  1  do 
believe  he  wrote  this  poem  himself,  and  let  me 
tell  you,  that  is  believing  a  great  deal." 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  club  Chamier  sound- 
ed the  author  a  little  about  his  poem.  "  Mr. 
Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  the 
last  word  in  the  first  line  of  your '  Traveller,'  '  re- 
mote, unfriended,  solitary,  slow  ? '  do  you  mean 
tardiness  of  locomotion  ?"  "  Yes,"  replied  Gold- 
smith inconsiderately,  being  probably  flurried  at 
the  moment.  "  No,  sir,"  interposed  his  protect- 
ing friend  Johnson,  "  you  did  not  mean  tardiness 
of  locomotion  ;  you  meant  that  sluggishness  of 
mind  which  comes  upon  a  man  in  solitude." 
"  Ah,"  exclaimed  Goldsmith,  "  tJiat  was  what  I 
meant."  Chamier  immediately  believed  that 
Johnson  himself  had  written  the  line,  and  a  rumor 
became  prevalent  that  he  was  the  author  of  many 
of  the  finest  passages.  This  was  ultimately  set  at 
rest  by  Johnson  himself,  who  marked  with  a  pencil 
all  the  verses  he  had  contributed,  nine  in  number, 
inserted  toward  the  conclusion,  and  by  no  means 
the  best  in  the  poem.  He  moreover,  with  gener- 
ous warmth,  pronounced  it  the  finest  poem  that 
had  appeared  since  the  days  of  Pope. 

But  one  of  the  highest  testimonials  to  the  charm 
of  the  poem  was  given  by  Miss  Reynolds,  who 
had  toasted  poor  Goldsmith  as  the  ugliest  man  of 
her  acquaintance.  Shortly  after  the  appearance 
of  "  The  Traveller,"  Dr.  Johnson  read  it  aloud 
from  beginning  to  end  in  her  presence.  "  Well," 
exclaimed  she,  when  he  had  finished,  "  I  never 
more  shall  think  Dr.  Goldsmith  ugly  !" 

On  another  occasion,  when  the  merits  of  "  The 
Traveller"  were  discussed  at  Reynolds's  board, 
Langton  declared  "  There  was  not  a  bad  line  in 
the  poem,  not  one  of  Dryden's  careless  verses." 
"  I  was  glad,"  observed  Reynolds,  "  to  hear 
Charles  Fox  say  it  was  one  of  the  finest  poems  in 
the  English  language."  "  Why  was  you  glad  ?" 
rejoined  Langton  ;  "  you  surely  had  no  doubt  of 
this  before."  "  No,"  interposed  Johnson,  de- 
cisively ;  "  the  merit  of  '  The  Traveller  '  is  so 
well  established  that  Mr.  Fox's  praise  cannot 
augment  it,  nor  his  censure  diminish  it." 

Boswell,  who  was  absent  from  England  at  the 
time  of  the  publication  of  "  The  Traveller,"  was  <• 
astonished,  on  his  return,  to  find  Goldsmith, 
whom  he  had  so  much  undervalued,  suddenly  ele- 
vated almost  to  a  par  with  his  idol.  He  account- 
ed for  it  by  concluding  that  much  both  of  the  sen- 
timents and  expression  of  the  poem  had  been  de- 
rived from  conversations  with  Johnson.  "  He 
imitates  you,  sir,"  said  this  incarnation  of  toady- 
ism. "Why,  no,  sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "Jack 
Hawksworth  is  one  of  my  imitators,  but  not  Gold- 
smith. Goldy,  sir,  has  great  merit."  "  But,  sir, 
he  is  much  indebted  to  you  for  his  getting  so  high 
in  the  public  estimation."  "Why,  sir,  he  has, 
perhaps,  got  sooner  to  it  by  his  intimacy  with 
me." 

The  poem  went  through  several  editions  in  the 
course  of  the  first  year,  and  received  some  few 
additions  and  corrections  from  the  author's  pen. 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


215 


It  produced  a  golden  harvest  to  Mr.  Newbery, 
but  all  the  remuneration  on  record,  doled  out  by 
his  niggard  hand  to  the  author,  was  twenty 
guineas  ! 


CHAPTER   XVI, 

NEW  LODGINGS — JOHNSON'S  COMPLIMENT — A 
TITLED  PATRON — THE  POET  AT  NORTHUMBER- 
LAND HOUSE — HIS  INDEPENDENCE  OF  THE 
GREAT— THE  COUNTESS  OF  NORTHUMBERLAND 
—  EDWIN  AND  ANGELINA  —  GOSFORD  AND 
LORD  CLARE — PUBLICATION  OF  ESSAYS — EVILS 
OF  A  RISING  REPUTATION — HANGERS-ON — JOB 
WRITING— GOODY  TWO  SHOES — A  MEDICAL 
CAMPAIGN — MRS.  SIDEBOTHAM. 

GOLDSMITH,  now  that  he  was  rising  in  the 
world,  and  becoming  a  notoriety,  ielt  himself 
called  upon  to  improve  his  style  of  living.  He 
accordingly  emerged  from  Wine-Office  Court, 
and  took  chambers  in  the  Temple.  It  is  true  they 
were  but  of  humble  pretensions,  situated  on  what 
was  then  the  library  staircase,  and  it  would  ap- 
pear that  he  was  a  kind  of  inmate  with  Jeffs,  the 
butler  of  the  society.  Still  he  was  in  the  Temple, 
that  classic  region  rendered  famous  by  the  Spec- 
tator and  other  essayists,  as  the  abode  of  gay  wits 
and  thoughtful  men  of  letters  ;  and  which,  with 
its  retired  courts  and  embowered  gardens,  in  the 
very  heart  of  a  noisy  metropolis,  is,  to  the  quiet- 
seeking  student  and  author,  an  oasis  freshening 
with  verdure  in  the  midst  of  a  desert.  Johnson, 
who  had  become  a  kind  of  growling  supervisor 
of  the  poet's  affairs,  paid  him  a  visit  soon  after  he 
had  installed  himself  in  his  new  quarters,  and 
went  prying  about  the  apartment,  in  his  near- 
sighted manner,  examining  everything  minutely. 
Goldsmith  was  fidgeted  by  this  curious  scrutiny, 
and  apprehending  a  disposition  to  find  fault,  ex- 
claimed, with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  money  in 
both  pockets,  "  I  shall  soon  be  in  better  chambers 
than  these."  The  harmless  bravado  drew  a  reply 
from  Johnson,  which  touched  the  chord  of  proper 
pride.  "  Nay,  sir,"  said  he,  "  never  mind  that. 
Nil  te  qussiveris  extra,"  implying  that  his  reputa- 
tion rendered  him  independent  of  outward  show. 
Happy  would  it  have  been  for  poor  Goldsmith, 
could  he  have  kept  this  consolatory  compliment 
perpetually  in  mind,  and  squared  his  expenses  ac- 
cordingly. 

Among  the  persons  of  rank  who  were  struck 
with  the  merits  of  "  The  Traveller"  was  the  Earl 
(afterward  Duke)  of  Northumberland.  He  pro- 
cured several  other  of  Goldsmith's  writings,  the 
perusal  of  which  tended  to  elevate  the  author  in 
his  good  opinion,  and  to  gain  for  him  his  good 
will.  The  earl  held  the  office  of  Lord  Lieutenant 
of  Ireland,  and  understanding  Goldsmith  was  an 
Irishman,  was  disposed  to  extend  to  him  the 
patronage  which  his  high  post  afforded.  He  in- 
timated the  same  to  his  relative,  Dr.  Percy,  who, 
he  found,  was  well  acquainted  with  the  poet,  and 
expressed  a  wish  that  the  latter  should  wait  upon 
him.  Here,  then,  was  another  opportunity  for 
Goldsmith  to  better  his  fortune,  had  he  been  know- 
ing and  worldly  enough  to  profit  by  it.  Unluckily 
the  path  to  fortune  lay  through  the  aristocratical 
mazes  of  Northumberland  House,  and  the  poet 
blundered  at  the  outset.  The  following  is  the  ac- 
count he  used  to  give  of  his  visit :  "  I  dressed  my- 


self in  the  best  manner  I  could,  and,  after  study- 
ing some  compliments  I  thought  necessary  on 
such  an  occasion,  proceeded  to  Northumberland 
House,  and  acquainted  the  servants  that  I  had 
particular  business  with  the  duke.  They  showed 
me  into  an  antechamber,  where,  after  waiting 
some  time,  a  gentleman,  very  elegantly  dressed, 
made  his  appearance  ;  taking  him  for  the  duke,  I 
delivered  all  the  fine  things  I  had  composed  in 
order  to  compliment  him  on  the  honor  he  had 
done  me  ;  when,  to  my  great  astonishment,  he 
told  me  I  had  mistaken  him  for  his  master,  who 
would  see  me  immediately.  At  that  instant  the 
duke  came  into  the  apartment,  and  I  was  so  con- 
founded on  the  occasion,  that  I  wanted  words 
barely  sufficient  to  express  the  sense  I  entertained 
of  the  duke's  politeness,  and  went  away  exceed- 
ingly chagrined  at  the  blunder  I  had  committed." 

Sir  John  Hawkins,  in  his  life  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
gives  some  farther  particulars  of  this  visit,  of 
which  he  was,  in  part,  a  witness.  "  Having  one 
day,"  says  he,  "  a  call  to  make  on  the  late  Duke, 
then  Earl,  of  Northumberland,  I  found  Goldsmith 
waiting  for  an  audience  in  an  outer  room  ;  I  asked 
him  what  had  brought  him  there  ;  he  told  me,  an 
invitation  from  his  lordship.  I  made  my  business 
as  short  as  I  could,  and,  as  a  reason,  mentioned 
that  Dr.  Goldsmith  was  waiting  without.  The 
earl  asked  me  if  I  was  acquainted  with  him.  I 
told  him  that  I  was,  adding  what  I  thought  was 
most  likely  to  recommend  him.  I  retired,  and 
stayed  in  the  outer  room  to  take  him  home. 
Upon  his  coming  out,  I  asked  him  the  result  of 
his  conversation.  '  His  lordship,"  said  he,  '  told 
me  he  had  read  my  poem,  meaning"  The  Travel- 
ler," and  was  much  delighted  with  it;  thathewas 
going  to  be  lord-lieutenant  of  Ireland,  and  that 
hearing  I  was  a  native  of  that  country,  he  should 
be  glad  to  do  me  any  kindness.'  '  And  what  did 
you  answer,'  said  I,  '  to  this  gracious  offer  ? ' 
'  Why,'  said  he,  '  I  could  say  nothing  but  that  I 
had  a  brother  there,  a  clergyman,  that  stood  in 
need  of  help  :  as  for  myself,  I  have  no  great  de- 
pendence on  the  promises  of  great  men  ;  I  look  to 
the  booksellers  for  support  ;  they  are  my  best 
friends,  and  I  am  not  inclined  to  forsake  them  for 
others.''  "Thus,"  continues  Sir  John,  "did 
this  idiot  in  the  affairs  of  the  world  trifle  with  his 
fortunes,  and  put  back  the  hand  that  was  held  out 
to  assist  him." 

We  cannot  join  with  Sir  John  in  his  worldly 
sneer  at  the  conduct  of  Goldsmith  on  this  occa- 
sion. While  we  admire  that  honest  independence 
of  spirit  which  prevented  him  from  asking  favors 
for  himself,  we  love  that  warmth  of  affection  which 
instantly  sought  to  advance  the  fortunes  of  a 
brother  :  but  the  peculiar  merits  of  poor  Gold- 
smith seem  to  have  been  little  understood  by  the 
Hawkinses,  the  Boswells,  and  the  other  biogra- 
phers of  the  day. 

After  all,  the  introduction  to  Northumberland 
House  did  not  prove  so  complete  a  failure  as  the 
humorous  account  given  by  Goldsmith,  and  the 
cynical  account  given  by  Sir  John  Hawkins,  might 
lead  one  to  suppose.  Dr.  Percy,  the  heir  male  of 
the  ancient  Percies,  brought  the  poet  into  the  ac- 
quaintance of  his  kinswoman,  the  countess,  who, 
before  her  marriage  with  the  earl,  was  in  her  own 
right  heiress  of  the  House  of  Northumberland. 
"She  was  a  lady,"  says  Boswell,  "not  only  of 
high  dignity  of  spirit,  such  as  became  her  noble 
blood,  but  of  excellent  understanding  and  lively 
talents."  Under  her  auspices  a  poem  of  Gold- 
smith's had  an  aristocratical  introduction  to  the 
world.  This  was  the  beautiful  ballad  of  the 


21G 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


"  Hermit,"  originally  published  under  the  name 
ot  "  Edwin  and  Angelina."  It  was  suggested  by 
an  old  English  ballad  beginning  "  Gentle  Herds- 
man," shown  him  by  Dr.  Percy,  who  was  at  that 
time  making  his  famous  collection,  entitled  "  Re- 
liques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,"  which  he  sub- 
mitted to  the  inspection  of  Goldsmith  prior  to 
publication.  A  few  copies  only  of  the  "  Hermit" 
were  printed  at  first,  with  the  following  title-page  : 
"  Edwin  and  Angelina  :  a  Ballad.  By  Mr.  Gold- 
smith. Printed  tor  the  Amusement  of  the  Count- 
ess of  Northumberland." 

All  this,  though  it  may  not  have  been  attended 
with  any  immediate  pecuniary  advantage,  con- 
tributed to 'give  Goldsmith's  name  and  poetry 
the  high  stamp  of  fashion,  so  potent  in  England  ; 
the  circle  at  Northumberland  House,  however, 
was  of  too  stately  and  aristocratical  a  nature  to 
be  much  to  his  taste,  and  we  do  not  find  that  he 
became  familiar  in  it. 

He  was  much  more  at  home  at  Gosford,  the  no- 
ble seat  of  his  countryman,  Robert  Nugent,  after- 
ward Baron  Nugent  and  Viscount  Clare,  who  ap- 
preciated his  merits  even  more  heartily  than  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  occasionally  made 
him  his  guest  both  in  town  and  country.  Nugent 
is  described  as  a  jovial  voluptuary,  who  left  the 
Roman  Catholic  for  the  Protestant  religion,  with 
a  view  to  bettering  his  fortunes  ;  he  had  an  Irish- 
man's inclination  for  rich  widows,  and  an  Irish- 
man's luck  with  the  sex  ;  having  been  thrice  mar- 
ried and  gained  a  fortune  with  each  wife.  He  was 
now  nearly  sixty,  with  a  remarkably  loud  voice, 
broad  Irish  brogue,  and  ready,  but  somewhat 
coarse  wit.  With  all  his  occasional  coarseness 
he  was  capable  of  high  thought,  and  had  pro- 
duced poems  which  showed  a  truly  poetic  vein. 
He  was  long  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
where  his  ready  wit,  his  fearless  decision,  and 
good-humored  audacity  of  expression,  always 
gained  him  a  hearing,  though  his  tall  person  and 
awkward  manner  gained  him  the  nickname  of 
Squire  Gawky,  among  the  political  scribblers  of 
the  day.  With  a  patron  ot  this  jovial  tempera- 
ment Goldsmith  probably  felt  more  at  ease  than 
with  those  of  higher  refinement. 

The  celebrity  which  Goldsmith  had  acquired  by 
his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller,"  occasioned  a  re- 
suscitation of  many  of  his  miscellaneous  and 
anonymous  tales  and  essays  from  the  various 
newspapers  and  other  transient  publications  in 
which  they  lay  dormant.  These  l.e  published  in 
1765,  in  a  collected  form,  under  the  title  of  "  Es- 
says by  Mr.  Goldsmith."  "The  following  es- 
says," observes  he  in  his  preface,  "  have  already 
appeared  at  different  times,  and  in  different  pub- 
lications. The  pamphlets  in  which  they  were 
inserted  being  generally  unsuccessful,  these 
shared  the  common  fate,  without  assisting  the 
booksellers'  aims,  or  extending  the  author's  rep- 
utation. The  public  were  too  strenuously  em- 
ployed with  their  own  follies  to  be  assiduous  in 
estimating  mine  ;  so  that  many  of  my  best  at- 
tempts in  this  way  have  fallen  victims  to  the  tran- 
sient topic  of  the  times — the  Ghost  in  Cock-lane, 
or  the  Siege  of  Ticonderoga. 

"  But,  though  they  have  passed  pretty  silently 
into  the  world,  I  can  by  no  means  complain  of 
their  circulation.  The  magazines  and  papers  of 
the  day  have  indeed  been  liberal  enough  in  this 
respect.  Most  of  these  essays  have  been  regular- 
ly reprinted  twice  or  thrice  a  year,  and  conveyed 
to  the  public  through  the  kennel  of  some  engag- 
ing compilation.  If  there  be  a  pride  in  multiplied 
^editions,  I  have  seen  some  of  my  labors  sixteen 


times  reprinted,  and  claimed  by  different  parents 
as  their  own.  I  have  seen  them  flourished  at  the 
beginning  with  praise,  and  signed  at  the  end  with 
the  names  of  Philautos,  Philalethes,  Phileleuth- 
eros,  and  Philanthropes.  It  is  time,  however,  at 
last  to  vindicate  my  claims  ;  and  as  these  enter- 
tainers of  the  public,  as  they  call  themselves, 
have  partly  lived  upon  me  for  some  years,  let  me 
now  try  if  I  cannot  live  a  little  upon  myself." 

It  was  but  little,  in  fact,  for  all  the  pecuniary 
emolument  he  received  from  the  volume  was 
twenty  guineas.  It  had  a  good  circulation,  how- 
ever, was  translated  into  French,  and  has  main- 
tained its  stand  among  the  British  classics. 

Notwithstanding  that  the  reputation  of  Gold- 
smith had  greatly  risen,  his  finances  were  often  at 
a  very  low  ebb,  owing  to  his  heedlessness  as  to 
expense,  his  liability  to  be  imposed  upon,  and  a 
spontaneous  and  irresistible  propensity  to  give  to 
every  one  who  asked.  The  very  rise  in  his  repu- 
tation had  increased  these  embarrassments.  It 
had  enlarged  his  circle  of  needy  acquaintances, 
authors  poorer  in  pocket  than  himself,  who  came 
in  search  of  literary  counsel  ;  which  generally 
meant  a  guinea  and  a  breakfast.  And  then  his 
Irish  hangers-on  !  "  Our  Doctor,"  said  one  of 
these  sponges,  "  had  a  constant  levee  of  his  dis- 
tressed countrymen,  whose  wants,  as  far  as  he 
was  able,  he  always  relieved  ;  and  he  has  often 
been  known  to  leave  himself  without  a  guinea,  in 
order  to  supply  the  necessities  of  others." 

This  constant  drainage  of  the  purse  therefore 
obliged  him  to  undertake  all  jobs  proposed  by  the 
booksellers,  and  to  keep  up  a  kind  of  running  ac- 
count with  Mr.  Newbery  ;  who  was  his  banker 
on  all  occasions,  sometimes  for  pounds,  some- 
times for  shillings  ;  but  who  was  a  rigid  account- 
ant, and  took  care  to  be  amply  repaid  in  manu- 
script. Many  effusions  hastily  penned  in  these 
moments  of  exigency,  were  published  anony- 
mously, and  never  claimed.  Some  of  them  have 
but  recently  been  traced  to  his  pen  ;  while  of 
many  the  true  authorship  will  probably  never  be 
discovered.  Among  others  it  is  suggested,  and 
with  great  probability,  that  he  wrote  for  Mr.  New- 
bery, the  famous  nursery  story  of  "Goody  Two 
Shoes,"  which  appeared  in  1765,  at  a  moment 
when  Goldsmith  was  scribbling  for  Newbery,  and 
much  pressed  for  funds.  Several  quaint  little 
tales  introduced  in  his  Essays  show  that  he  had 
a  turn  for  this  species  of  mock  history  ;  and  the 
advertisement  and  title-page  bear  the  stamp  of 
his  sly  and  playful  humor. 

"  We  are  desired  to  give  notice,  that  there  is 
in  the  press,  and  speedily  will  be  published,  either 
by  subscription  or  otherwise,  as  the  public  shall 
please  to  determine,  the  History  ot  Little  Goody 
Two  Shoes,  otherwise  Mrs.  Margery  Two  Shoes  ; 
with  the  means  by  which  she  acquired  learning 
and  wisdom,  and,  in  consequence  thereof,  her  es- 
tate ;  set  forth  at  large  for  the  benefit  of  those 

"  Who.  from  a  state  of  rags  and  care, 
And  having  shoes  but  half  a  pair. 
Their  fortune  and  ;Jeir  fame  should  fix, 
And  gallop  in  a  coach  and  six." 

The  world  is  probably  not  aware  of  the  inge- 
nuity, humor,  good  sense,  and  sly  satire  contain- 
ed in  many  of  the  old  English  nursery-tales.  They 
have  evidently  been  the  sportive  productions  of 
able  writers,  who  would  not  trust  their  names  to 
productions  that  might  be  considered  beneath 
their  dignity.  The  ponderous  works  on  which 
they  relied  for  immortality  have  perhaps  sunk  into 
oblivion,  and  carried  their  names  down  with 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


217 


them  ;  while  their  unacknowledged  offspring, 
Jack  the  Giant  Killer,  Giles  Gingerbread,  and 
Tom  Thumb,  flourish  in  wide-spreading  and 
never-ceasing  popularity. 

As  Goldsmith  had  now  acquired  popularity 
and  an  extensive  acquaintance,  he  attempted, 
with  the  advice  of  his  friends,  to  procure  a  more 
regular  and  ample  support  by  resuming  the  medi- 
cal profession.  He  accordingly  launched  himself 
upon  the  town  in  style  ;  hired  a  man-servant  ;  re- 
plenished his  wardrobe  at  considerable  expense, 
and  appeared  in  a  professional  wig  and  cane, 
purple  silk  small-clothes,  and  a  scarlet  roquelaure 
buttoned  to  the  chin  :  a  fantastic  garb,  as  we 
should  think  at  the  present  day,  but  not  unsuited 
to  the  fashion  of  the  times. 

With  his  sturdy  little  person  thus  arrayed  in  the 
unusual  magnificence  of  purple  and  fine  linen, 
and  his  scarlet  roquelaure  flaunting  from  his 
shoulders,  he  used  to  strut  into  the  apartments  ol 
his  patients  swaying  his  three-cornered  hat  in  one 
hand  and  his  medical  sceptre,  the  cane,  in  the 
other,  and  assuming  an  air  of  gravity  and  impor- 
tance suited  to  the  solemnity  of  his  wig  ;  at  least, 
such  is  the  picture  given  of  him  by  the  waiting 
gentlewoman  who  let  him  into  the  chamber  of 
one  of  his  lady  patients. 

He  soon,  however,  grew  tired  and  impatient  of 
the  duties  and  restraints  of  his  profession  ;  his 
practice  was  chieHy  among  his  friends,  and  the 
fees  were  not  sufficient  for  his  maintenance  ;  he 
was  disgusted  with  attendance  on  sick-chambers 
and  capricious  patients,  and  looked  back  with 
longing  to  his  tavern  haunts  and  broad  convivial 
meetings,  from  which  the  dignity  and  duties  of 
his  medical  calling  restrained  him.  At  length,  on 
prescribing  to  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance  who,  to 
use  a  hackneyed  phrase,  "  rejoiced"  in  the  aristo- 
cratical  name  of  Sidebotham,  a  warm  dispute 
arose  between  him  and  the  apothecary  as  to  the 
quantity  of  medicine  to  be  administered.  The 
doctor  stood  up  for  the  rights  and  dignities  of  his 
profession,  and  resented  the  interference  of  the 
compounder  of  drugs.  His  rights  and  dignities, 
however,  were  disregarded  ;  his  wig  and  cane 
and  scarlet  roquelaure  were  of  no  avail  ;  Mrs. 
Sidebotham  sided  with  the  hero  of  the  pestle  and 
mortar  ;  and  Goldsmith  flung  out  of  the  house  in 
a  passion.  "  I  am  determined  henceforth,"  said 
he  to  Topham  Beauclerc,  "  to  leave  off  prescribing 
for  friends."  "  Do  so,  my  deardoctor,"  was  the 
reply  ;  "  whenever  you  undertake  to  kill,  let  it  be 
only  your  enemies." 

This  was  the  end  of  Goldsmith's  medical  career. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PUBLICATION  OF  THE  VICAR  OF  WAKEFIELD — 
OPINIONS  CONCERNING  IT — OF  DR.  JOHNSON — 
OF  ROGERS  THE  POET — OF  GOETHE— ITS  MERITS 
— EXQUISITE  EXTRACT — ATTACK  BY  KENRICK 
—  REPLY  —  BOOK-BUILDING  —  PROJECT  OF  A 

COMEDY. 

THE  success  of  the  poem  of  "  The  Traveller," 
and  the  popularity  which  it  had  conferred  on  its 
author,  now  roused  the  attention  of  the  book- 
seller in  whose  hands  the  novel  of  "  The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield"  had  been  slumbering  for  nearly  two 
Jong  years.  The  idea  has  generally  prevailed 
that  it  was  Mr.  John  Newbery  to  whom  the  man- 
uscript had  been  sold,  and  much  surprise  has 


been  expressed  that  he  should  be  insensible  to  its 
merit  and  suffer  it  to  remain  unpublished,  while 
putting  forth  various  inferior  writings  by  the  same 
author.  This,  however,  is  a  mistake  ;  it  was  his 
nephew,  Francis  Newbery,  who  had  become  the 
fortunate  purchaser.  Still  the  delay  is  equally 
unaccountable.  Some  have  imagined  that  the 
uncle  and  nephew  had  business  arrangements  to- 
gether, in  which  this  work  was  included,  and  that 
the  elder  Newbery,  dubious  of  its  success,  retard- 
ed the  publication  until  the 'full  harvest  of  "  The 
Traveller"  should  be  reaped.  Booksellers  are 
prone  to  make  egregious  mistakes  as  to  the  merit 
of  works  in  manuscript ;  and  to  undervalue,  if 
not  reject,  those  of  classic  and  enduring  excel- 
lence, when  destitute  of  that  false  brilliancy  com- 
monly called  "  effect."  In  the  present  instance, 
an  intellect  vastly  superior  to  that  of  either  of  the 
booksellers  was  equally  at  fault.  Dr.  Johnson, 
speaking  of  the  work  to  Boswell,  some  time  sub- 
sequent to  its  publication,  observed,  "  I  myself 
did  not  think  it  would  have  had  much  success.  It 
was  written  and  sold  to  a  bookseller  before  '  The 
Traveller,'  but  published  after,  so  little  expectation 
had  the  bookseller  from  it.  Had  it  been  sold  after 
'  The  Traveller,'  he  might  have  had  twice  as  much 
money  ;  though  sixty  guineas  was  no  mean 
price." 

Sixty  guineas  for  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  !  and 
this  could  be  pronounced  no  mean  price  by  Dr. 
Johnson,  at  that  time  the  arbiter  of  British  talent, 
and  who  had  had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing 
the  effect  of  the  work  upon  the  public  mind  ;  for 
its  success  was  immediate.  It  came  out  on  the 
27th  of  March,  1766  ;  before  the  end  of  May  a 
second  edition  was  called  for  ;  in  three  months 
more  a  third  ;  and  so  it  went  on,  widening  in  a 
popularity  that  has  never  flagged.  Rogers,  the 
Nestor  of  British  literature,  whose  refined  purity 
of  taste  and  exquisite  mental  organization,  ren- 
dered him  eminently  calculated  to  appreciate  a 
work  of  the  kind,  declared  that  of  all  the  books, 
which,  through  the  fitful  changes  of  three  genera- 
tions he  had  seen  rise  and  fall,  the  charm  of  the 
Vicar  of  Wakefield  had  alone  continued  as  at 
first  ;  and  could  he  revisit  the  world  alter  an  in- 
terval of  many  more  generations,  he  should  as 
surely  look  to  find  it  undiminished.  Nor  has  its 
celebrity  been  confined  to  Great  Britain.  Though 
so  exclusively  a  picture  of  British  scenes  and  .man- 
ners, it  has  been  translated  into  almost  every 
language,  and  everywhere  its  charm  has  been  the 
same.  Goethe,  the  great  genius  of  Germany,  de- 
clared in  his  eighty-first  year,  that  it  was  his  de- 
light at  the  age  of  twenty,  that  it  had  in  a  manner 
formed  a  part  of  his  education,  influencing  his 
taste  and  feelings  throughout  lite,  and  that  he  had 
recently  read  it  again  from  beginning  to  end — 
with  renewed  delight,  and  with  a  grateful  sense 
of  the  early  benefit  derived  from  it. 

It  is  needless  to  expatiate  upon  the  qualities  of 
a  work  which  has  thus  passed  from  country  to 
country,  and  language  to  language,  until  it  is 
now  known  throughout  the  whole  reading  world, 
and  is  become  a  household  book  in  every  hand. 
The  secret  of  its  universal  and  enduring  popular- 
ity is  undoubtedly  its  truth  to  nature,  but  to  na- 
ture of  the  most  amiable  kind  ;  to  nature  such  as 
Goldsmith  saw  it.  The  author,  as  we  have  occa- 
sionally shown  in  the  course  of  this  memoir,  took 
his  scenes  and  characters  in  this  as  in  his  other 
writings,  from  originals  in  his  own  motley  experi- 
ence ;  but  he  has  given  them  as  seen  through  the 
medium  of  his  own  indulgent  eye,  and  has  set  them 
forth  with  the  colorings  of  his  own  good  head  an4 


218 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


heart.  Yet  how  contradictory  it  seems  that  this, 
one  of  the  most  delightful  pictures  of  home  and 
homefelt  happiness,  should  be  drawn  by  a  home- 
less man  ;  that  the  most  amiable  picture  of  do- 
mestic virtue  and  all  the  endearments  of  the  mar- 
ried state  should  be  drawn  by  a  bachelor,  who 
had  been  severed  from  domestic  life  almost  from 
boyhood  ;  that  one  of  the  most  tender,  touching, 
and  affecting  appeals  on  behalf  of  female  loveli- 
ness should  have  been  made  by  a  man  whose  de- 
ficiency in  all  the  graces  of  person  and  manner 
seemed  to  mark  him  out  for  a  cynical  disparager 
of  the  sex. 

We  cannot  refrain  from  transcribing  from  the 
work  a  short  passage  illustrative  of  what  we  have 
said,  and  which  within  a  wonderfully  small  com- 
pass comprises  a  world  of  beauty  of  imagery, 
tenderness  of  feeling,  delicacy  and  refinement  of 
thought,  and  matchless  purity  of  style.  The  two 
stanzas  which  conclude  it,  in  which  are  told  a 
whole  history  of  woman's  wrongs  and  sufferings, 
is,  for  pathos,  simplicity,  and  euphony,  a  gem  in 
the  language.  The  scene  depicted  is  where  the 
poor  Vicar  is  gathering  around  him  the  wrecks  of 
his  shattered  family,  and  endeavoring  to  rally  them 
back  to  happiness. 

"  The  next  morning  the  sun  arose  with  peculiar 
warmth  for  the  season,  so  that  we  agreed  to 
breakfast  together  on  the  honeysuckle  bank  ; 
where,  while  we  sat,  my  youngest  daughter  at  my 
request  joined  her  voice  to  the  concert  on  the 
trees  about  us.  It  was  in  this  place  my  poor  Oli- 
via first  met  her  seducer,  and  every  object  served 
to  recall  her  sadness.  But  that  melancholy  which 
is  excited  by  objects  of  pleasure,  or  inspired  by 
sounds  of  harmony,  soothes  the  heart  instead  of 
corroding  it.  Her  mother,  too,  upon  this  occa- 
sion, felt  a  pleasing  distress,  and  wept,  and  loved 
her  daughter  as  before.  '  Do,  my  pretty  Olivia,' 
cried  she,  '  let  us  have  that  melancholy  air  your 
father  was  so  fond  of  ;  your  sister  Sophy  has  al- 
ready obliged  us.  Do,  child  ;  it  will  please  your 
old  father.'  She  complied  in  a  manner  so  exqui- 
sitely pathetic  as  moved  me. 

'  When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly, 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray, 

What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy, 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ? 

"  '  The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover, 

To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye, 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover, 
And  wring  his  bosom — is  to  die.'  " 

Scarce  had  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  made  its  ap- 
pearance and  been  received  with  acclamation, 
than  its  author  was  subjected  to  one  of  the  usual 
penalties  that  attend  success.  He  was  attacked 
in  the  newspapers.  In  one  of  the  chapters  he  had 
introduced  his  ballad  of  the  Hermit,  of  which,  as 
we  have  mentioned,  a  few  copies  had  been  printed 
some  considerable  time  previously  for  the  use  of 
the  Countess  of  Northumberland.  This  brought 
forth  the  following  article  in  a  fashionable  jour- 
nal of  the  day  : 

"  To  the  Printer  cf  the  St.  James' s  Chronicle. 

"  SIR  :  In  the  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry,  pub- 
lished about  two  years  ago,  is  a  very  beautiful  lit- 
tle ballad,  called  '  A  Friar  of  Orders  Gray."  The 
ingenious  editor,  Mr.  Percy,  supposes  that  the 
stanzas  sung  by  Ophelia  in  the  play  of  Hamlet 
were  parts  of  some  ballad  well  known  in  Shakes- 
peare's time,  and  from  these  stanzas  with  the  ad- 


dition of  one  or  two  of  his  own  to  connect  them, 
he  has  formed  the  above-mentioned  ballad  ;  the 
subject  of  which  is,  a  lady  comes  to  a  convent  to 
inquire  for  her  love  who  had  been  driven  there 
by  her  disdain.  She  is  answered  by  a  Iriar  that 
he  is  dead  : 

"  '  No,  no,  he  is  dead,  gone  to  his  death's  bed. 
He  never  will  come  again.' 

The  lady  weeps  and  laments  her  cruelty  ;  the 
friar  endeavors  to  comfort  her  with  morality  and 
religion,  but  all  in  vain  ;  she  expresses  the  deep- 
est grief  and  the  most  tender  sentiments  of  love, 
till  at  last  the  friar  discovers  himself : 

"  '  And  lo  !  beneath  this  gown  of  gray 
Thy  own  true  love  appears.' 

"  This  catastrophe  is  very  fine,  and  the  whole, 
joined  with  the  greatest  tenderness,  has  the  great- 
est simplicity  ;  yet,  though  this  ballad  was  so  re- 
cently published  in  the  Ancient  Reliques,  Dr. 
Goldsmith  has  been  hardy  enough  to  publish  a 
poem  called  '  The  Hermit,'  where  the  circum- 
stances and  catastrophe  are  exactly  the  same, 
only  with  this  difference,  that  the  natural  sim- 
plicity and  tenderness  oi  the  original  are  almost 
entirely  lost  in  the  languid  smoothness  and  tedious 
paraphrase  of  the  copy,  which  is  as  short  of  the 
merits  of  Mr.  Percy's  ballad  as  the  insipidity  of 
negus  is  to  the  genuine  flavor  of  champagne. 
"  I  am,  sir,  yours,  etc., 

"  DETECTOR." 

This  attack,  supposed  to  be  by  Goldsmith's 
constant  persecutor,  the  malignant  Kenrick,  drew 
from  him  the  following  note  to  the  editor  : 

"  SIR  :  As  there  is  nothing  I  dislike  so  much  as 
newspaper  controversy,  particularly  upon  trifles, 
permit  me  to  be  as  concise  as  possible  in  inform- 
ing a  correspondent  of  yours  that  I  recommended 
Blainville's  travels  because  I  thought  the  book 
was  a  good  one  ;  and  I  think  so  still.  I  said  I 
was  told  by  the  bookseller  that  it  was  then  first 
published  ;  but  in  that  it  seems  I  was  misinform- 
ed, and  my  reading  was  not  extensive  enough  to 
set  me  right. 

"Another  correspondent  of  yours  accuses  me 
of  having  taken  a  ballad  I  published  some  time 
ago,  from  one  by  the  ingenious  Mr.  Percy.  I  do 
not  think  there  is  any  great  resemblance  between 
the  two  pieces  in  question.  If  there  be  any,  his 
ballad  was  taken  from  mine.  I  read  it  to  Mr. 
Percy  some  years  ago  ;  and  he,  as  we  both  consid- 
ered these  things  as  trifles  at  best,  told  me,  with 
his  usual  good-humor,  the  next  time  I  saw  him, 
that  he  had  taken  my  plan  to  form  the  fragments 
of  Shakespeare  into  a  ballad  of  his  own.  He  then 
read  me  his  little  Cento,  if  I  may  so  call  it,  and  I 
highly  approved  it.  Such  petty  anecdotes  as 
these  are  scarcely  worth  printing  ;  and  were  it  not 
for  the  busy  disposition  of  some  of  your  corre- 
spondents, the  public  should  never  have  known 
that  he  owes  me  the  hint  of  his  ballad,  or  that  I 
am  obliged  to  his  friendship  and  learning  for  com- 
munications of  a  much  more  important  nature. 
"  I  am,  sir,  yours,  etc., 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

The  unexpected  circulation  of  the  "  Vicar  of 
Wakefield"  enriched  the  publisher,  but  not  the 
author.  Goldsmith  no  doubt  thought  himself  en- 
titled to  participate  in  the  profits  of  the  repeated 
editions  ;  and  a  memorandum,  still  extant,  shows 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


that  he  drew  upon  Mr.  Francis  Newbery,  in  the 
month  of  June,  for  fifteen  guineas,  but  that  the 
bill  was  returned  dishonored.  He  continued 
therefore  his  usual  job-work  for  the  booksellers, 
writing  introductions,  prefaces,  and  head  and  tail 
pieces  for  new  works  ;  revising,  touching  up,  and 
modifying  travels  and  voyages  ;  making  compila- 
tions of  prose  and  poetry,  and  "  building  books," 
as  he  sportively  termed  it.  These  tasks  required 
little  labor  or  talent,  but  that  taste  and  touch 
which  are  the  magic  of  gifted  minds.  His  terms 
began  to  be  proportioned  to  his  celebrity.  If  his 
price  was  at  any  time  objected  to,  "  Why,  sir," 
he  would  say,  "  it  may  seem  large  ;  but  then  a 
man  may  be  many  years  working  in  obscurity 
before  his  taste  and  reputation  are  fixed  or  esti- 
mated ;  and  then  he  is,  as  in  other  professions, 
only  paid  for  his  previous  labors." 

He  was,  however,  prepared  to  try  his  fortune 
in  a  different  walk  of  literature  from  any  he  had 
yet  attempted.  We  have  repeatedly  adverted  to 
his  fondness  for  the  drama  ;  he  was  a  frequent 
attendant  at  the  theatres  ;  though,  as  we  have 
shown,  he  considered  them  under  gross  misman- 
agement. He  thought,  too,  that  a  vicious  taste 
prevailed  among  those  who  wrote  for  the  stage. 
"  A  new  species  of  dramatic  composition,"  says 
he,  in  one  of  his  essays,  "  has  been  introduced 
under  the  name  of  sentimental  comedy,  in  which 
the  virtues  of  private  life  are  exhibited,  rather 
than  the  vices  exposed  ;  and  the  distresses  rather 
than  the  faults  of  mankind  make  our  interest  in 
the  piece.  In  these  plays  almost  all  the  char- 
acters are  good,  and  exceedingly  generous  ;  they 
are  lavish  enough  of  their  tin  money  on  the  stage  ; 
and  though  they  want  humor,  have  abundance 
of  sentiment  and  feeling.  If  they  happen  to  have 
faults  or  foibles,  the  spectator  is  taught  not  only 
to  pardon,  but  to  applaud  them  in  consideration 
ol  the  goodness  of  their  hearts  ;  so  that  folly,  in- 
stead of  being  ridiculed,  is  commended,  and  the 
comedy  aims  at  touching  our  passions,  without 
the  power  of  being  truly  pathetic.  In  this  man- 
ner we  are  likely  to  lose  one  great  source  of  enter- 
tainment on  the  stage  ;  for  while  the  comic  poet 
is  invading  the  province  of  the  tragic  muse,  he 
leaves  her  lively  sister  quite  neglected.  Of  this, 
however,  he  is  no  ways  solicitous,  as  he  measures 
his  fame  by  his  profits. 

"  Humor  at  present  seems  to  be  departing 
from  the  stage  ;  and  it  will  soon  happen  that  our 
comic  players  will  have  nothing  left  for  it  but  a 
fine  coat  and  a  song.  It  depends  upon  the  audi- 
ence whether  they  will  actually  drive  those  poor 
merry  creatures  from  the  stage,  or  sit  at  a  play 
as  gloomy  as  at  the  tabernacle.  It  is  not  easy  to 
recover  an  art  when  once  lost  ;  and  it  will  be  a  just 
punishment,  that  when,  by  our  being  too  fastid- 
ious, we  have  banished  humor  from  the  stage, 
we  should  ourselves  be  deprived  of  the  art  of 
laughing." 

Symptoms  of  reform  in  the  drama  had  recently 
taken  place.  The  comedy  of  the  Clandestine 
Marriage,  the  joint  production  of  Colman  and 
Garrick,  and  suggested  by  Hogarth's  inimitable 
pictures  of  "  Marriage  a  la  mode,"  had  taken  the 
town  by  storm,  crowded  the  theatres  with  fashion- 
able audiences,  and  formed  one  of  the  leading 
literary  topics  of  the  year.  Goldsmith's  emula- 
tion was  roused  by  its  success.  The  comedy  was 
in  what  he  considered  the  legitimate  line,  totally 
different  from  the  sentimental  school  ;  it  presented 
pictures  of  real  life,  delineations  of  character  and 
touches  of  humor,  in  which  he  felt  himself  calcu- 
lated to  excel.  The  consequence  was  that  in  the 


course  of  this  year  (1766),  he  commenced  a  com- 
edy of  the  same  class,  to  be  entitled  the  Good 
Natured  Man,  at  which  he  diligently  wrought 
whenever  the  hurried  occupation  of  "  book  build- 
ing" allowed  him  leisure. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SOCIAL  POSITION  OF  GOLDSMITH — HIS  COLLO- 
QUIAL CONTESTS  WITH  JOHNSON — ANECDOTES 
AND  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THE  social  position  of  Goldsmith  had  undergone 
a  material  change  since  the  publication  of  "  The 
Traveller."  Before  that  event  he  was  but  par- 
tially known  as  the  author  of  some  clever  anony- 
mous writings,  and  had  been  a  tolerated  member 
of  the  club  and  the  Johnson  circle,  without  much 
being  expected  from  him.  Now  he  had  suddenly 
risen  to  literary  fame,  and  become  one  of  the 
lions  of  the  day.  The  highest  regions  of  intellect- 
ual society  were  now  open  to  him  ;  but  he  was 
not  prepared  to  move  in  them  with  confidence 
and  success.  Ballymahon  had  not  been  a  good 
school  of  manners  at  the  outset  of  life  ;  nor  had 
his  experience  as  a  "  poor  student"  at  colleges 
and  medical  schools  contributed  to  give  him  the 
polish  of  society.  He  had  brought  from  Ireland, 
as  he  said,  nothing  but  his  "  brogue  and  his 
blunders,"  and  they  had  never  left  him.  He  had 
travelled,  it  is  true  ;  but  the  Continental  tour 
which  in  those  days  gave  the  finishing  grace  to 
the  education  of  a  patrician  youth,  had,  with  poor 
Goldsmith,  been  little  better  than  a  course  of  lit- 
erary vagabondizing.  It  had  enriched  his  mind, 
deepened  and  widened  the  benevolence  of  his 
heart,  and  filled  his  memory  with  enchanting  pic- 
tures, but  it  had  contributed  little  to  disciplining 
him  for  the  polite  intercourse  of  the  world.  His 
life  in  London  had  hitherto  been  a  struggle  with 
sordid  cares  and  sad  humiliations.  "  You 
scarcely  can  conceive,"  wrote  he  some  time  pre- 
viously to  his  brother,  "  how  much  eight  years  of 
disappointment,  anguish,  and  study  have  worn 
me  down."  Several  more  years  had  since  been 
added  to  the  term  during  which  he  had  trod  the 
lowly  walks  of  life.  He  had  been  a  ^tutor,  an 
apothecary's  drudge,  a  petty  physician  of  the  su- 
burbs, a  bookseller's  hack,  drudging  for  daily 
bread.  Each  separate  walk  had  been  beset  by 
its  peculiar  thorns  and  humiliations.  It  is  won- 
derful how  his  heart  retained  its  gentleness  and 
kindness  through  all  these  trials  ;  how  his  mind 
rose  above  the  "  meannesses  of  poverty,"  to 
which,  as  he  says,  he  was  compelled  to  submit ; 
but  it  would  be  still  more  wonderful,  had  his  man- 
ners acquired  a  tone  corresponding  to  the  innate 
grace  and  refinement  of  his  intellect.  He  was 
near  forty  years  of  age  when  he  published  "  The 
Traveller,"  and  was  lifted  by  it  into  celebrity.  As 
is  beautifully  said  of  him  by  one  of  his  biograph- 
ers, "  he  has  fought  his  way  to  consideration  and 
esteem  ;  but  he  bears  upon  him  the  scars  of  his 
twelve  years'  conflict  ;  of  the  mean  sorrows 
through  which  he  has  passed  ;  and  of  the  cheap 
indulgences  he  has  sought  relief  and  help  from. 
There  is  nothing  plastic  in  his  nature  now.  His 
manners  and  habits  are  completely  formed  ;  and 
in  them  any  further  success  can  make  little  favor- 
able change,  whatever  it  may  effect  for  his  mind 
or  genius."* 

We  are  not  to  be  surprised,  therefore,  at  find- 

*  Foster's  Goldsmith. 


220 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


ing  him  make  an  awkward  figure  in  the  elegant 
drawing-rooms  which  were  now  open  to  him,  and 
disappointing  those  who  had  lormed  an  idea  of 
him  Irom  the  fascinating  ease  and  gracefulness  of 
his  poetry. 

Even  the  literary  club,  and  the  circle  of  which 
it  formed  a  part,  after  their  surprise  at  the  intel- 
lectual flights  of  which  he. showed  himself  capable, 
fell  into  a  conventional  mode  of  judging  and  talk- 
ing of  him,  and  of  placing  him  in  absurd  and 
whimsical  points  of  vfew.  His  very  celebrity 
operated  here  to  his  disadvantage.  It  brought 
him  into  continual  comparison  with  Johnson  who 
was  the  oracle  of  that  circle  and  had  given  it  a 
tone.  Conversation  was  the  great  staple  there, 
and  of  this  Johnson  was  a  master.  He  had  been 
a  reader  and  thinker  from  childhood  ;  his  melan- 
choly temperament,  which  unfitted  him  for  the 
pleasures  of  youth,  had  made  him  so.  For  many 
years  past  the  vast  variety  of  works  he  had  been 
obliged  to  consult  in  preparing  his  Dictionary, 
had  stored  an  uncommonly  retentive  memory  with 
facts  on  all  kinds  of  subjects  ;  making  it  a  perfect 
colloquial  armory.  "  He  had  all  his  life,"  says 
Boswell,  "  habituated  himself  to  consider  con- 
versation as  a  trial  of  intellectual  vigor  and  skill. 
He  had  disciplined  himself  as  a  talker  as  well  as 
a  writer,  making  it  a  rule  to  impart  whatever  he 
knew  in  the  most  forcible  language  he  could  put 
it  in,  so  that  by  constant  practice  and  never  suf- 
fering any  careless  expression  to  escape  him,  he 
had  attained  an  extraordinary  accuracy  and  com- 
mand of  language." 

•  His  common  conversation  in  all  companies,  ac- 
cording to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  was  such  as  to 
secure  him  universal  attention,  something  above 
the  usual  colloquial  style  being  always  expected 
from  him. 

"I  do  not  care,"  said  Orme,  the  historian  of 
Hindostan,  "  on  what  subject  Johnson  talks  ;  but 
I  love  better  to  hear  him  talk  than  anybody.  He 
either  gives  you  new  thoughts  or  a  new  coloring." 

A  stronger  and  more  graphic  eulogium  is  given 
by  Dr.  Percy.  "  The  conversation  of  Johnson," 
says  he,  "  is  strong  and  clear,  and  may  be  com- 
pared to  an  antique  statue,  where  every  vein  and 
muscle  is  distinct  and  clear." 

Such  was  the  colloquial  giant  with  which  Gold- 
smith's celebrity  and  his  habits  of  intimacy 
brought  him  into  continual  comparison  ;  can  we 
wonder  that  he  should  appear  to  disadvantage  ? 
Conversation  grave,  discursive,  and  disputatious, 
such  as  Johnson  excelled  and  delighted  in,  was  to 
him  a  severe  task,  and  he  never  was  good  at  a 
task  of  any  kind.  He  had  not,  like  Johnson,  a 
Vast  fund  of  acquired  facts  to  draw  upon  ;  nor  a 
retentive  memory  to  furnish  them  forth  when 
•wanted.  He  could  not,  like  the  great  lexicog- 
rapher, mould  his  ideas  and  balance  his  periods 
while  talking.  He  had  a  flow  of  ideas,  but  it  was 
apt  to  be  hurried  and  confused,  and  as  he  said  of 
himself,  he  had  contracted  a  hesitating  and  disa- 
greeable manner  of  speaking.  He  used  to  say 
that  he  always  argued  best  when  he  argued  alone  ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  could  master  a  subject  in  his 
study,  with  his  pen  in  his  hand  ;  but,  when  he 
came  into  company  he  grew  confused,  and  was 
unable  to  talk  about  it.  Johnson  made  a  remark 
concerning  him  to  somewhat  of  the  same  purport. 
"  No  man,"  said  he,  "  is  more  foolish  than  Gold- 
smith when  he  has  not  a  pen  in  his  hand,  or  more 
wise  when  he  has."  Yet  with  all  this  conscious 
deficiency  he  was  continually  getting  involved  in 
colloquial  contests  with  Johnson  and  other  prime 
talkers  of  the  literary  circle.  He  felt  that  he  had 


become  a  notoriety  ;  that  he  had  entered  the  lists 
and  was  expected  to  make  fight  ;  so  with  that 
heedlessness  which  characterized  him  in  every- 
thing else  he  dashed  on  at  a  venture  ;  trusting  to 
chance  in  this  as  in  other  things,  and  hoping  oc- 
casionally to  make  a  lucky  hit.  Johnson  perceiv- 
ed his  hap-hazard  temerity,  but  gave  him  no  credit 
for  the  real  diffidence  which  lay  at  bottom. 
"  The  misfortune  of  Goldsmith  in  conversation," 
said  he,  "  is  this,  he  goes  on  without  knowing  how 
he  is  to  get  off.  His  genius  is  great,  but  his  knowl- 
edge is  small.  As  they  say  of  a  generous  man,  it 
is  a  pity  he  is  not  rich,  we  may  say  of  Goldsmith  it 
is  a  pity  he  is  not  knowing.  He  would  not  keep 
his  knowledge  to  himself."  And,  on  another  oc- 
casion he  observes  :  "  Goldsmith,  rather  than 
not  talk,  will  talk  of  what  he  knows  himself  to  be 
ignorant,  which  can  only  end  in  exposing  him.  If 
in  company  with  two  founders,  he  would  fall  a 
talking  on  the  method  of  making  cannon,  though 
both  of  them  would  soon  see  that  he  did  not  know 
what  metal  a  cannon  is  made  of."  And  again  : 
"Goldsmith  should  not  be  forever  attempting  to 
shine  in  conversation  ;  he  has  not  temper  for  it, 
he  is  so  much  mortified  when  he  fails.  Sir,  a 
game  of  jokes  is  composed  partly  of  skill,  partly 
of  chance  ;  a  man  may  be  beat  at  times  by  one 
who  has  not  the  tenth  part  of  his  wit.  Now  Cold- 
smith,  putting  himself  against  another,  is  like  a 
man  laying  a  hundred  to  one,  who  cannot  spare 
the  hundred.  It  is  not  worth  a  man's  while.  A 
man  should  not  lay  a  hundred  to  one  unless  he  can 
easily  spare  it,  though  he  has  a  hundred  chances 
lor  him  ;  he  can  get  but  a  guinea,  and  he  may  lose 
a  hundred.  Goldsmith  is  in  this  state.  When  he 
contends,  if  he  gets  the  better,  it  is  a  very  little 
addition  to  a  man  of  his  literary  reputation  ;  it  he 
does  not  get  the  better,  he  is  miserably  vexed." 

Johnson  was  not  aware  how  much  he  was  him- 
self to  blame  in  producing  this  vexation.  "  Gold- 
smith," said  Miss  Reynolds,  "  always  appeared 
to  be  overawed  by  Johnson,  particularly  when  in 
company  with  people  of  any  consequence  ;  al- 
ways as  if  impressed  with  fear  of  disgrace  ;  and 
indeed  well  he  might.  I  have  been  witness  to 
many  mortifications  he  has  suffered  in  Dr.  John- 
son's company." 

It  may  not  have  been  disgrace  that  he  feared, 
but  rudeness.  The  .great  lexicographer,  spoiled 
by  the  homage  of  society,  was  still  more  prone 
than  himself  to  lose  temper  when  the  argument 
went  against  him.  He  could  not  brook  appearing 
to  be  worsted  ;  but  would  attempt  to  bear  clown 
his  adversary  by  the  rolling  thunder  of  his  pe- 
riods ;  and  when  that  failed,  would  become  down- 
right insulting.  Boswell  called  it  "  having  re- 
course to  some  sudden  mode  of  robust  sophistry  ;" 
but  Goldsmith  designated  it  much  more  happily. 
"  There  is  no  arguing  with  Johnson,"  said  he, 
"for  when  his  pistol  misses  firet  lie  knocks  you 
down  with  the  butt  end  of  it."* 

In  several  of  the  intellectual  collisions  recorded 
by  Boswell  as  triumphs  of  Dr.  Johnson,  it  really 
appears  to  us  that  Goldsmith  had  the  best  both  of 
the  wit  and  the  argument,  and  especially  of  the 
courtesy  and  good-nature. 

On  one  occasion  he  certainly  gave  Johnson  a 
capital  reproof  as  to  his  own  colloquial  peculiari- 


*  The  following  is  given  by  Boswell.  as  an  in- 
stance of  robust  sophistry  :  "  Once,  when  I  was  press- 
ing upon  him  with  visible  advantage,  he  stopped  me 
thus,  '  My  dear  Boswell,  let's  have  no  more  of  this  ; 
you'll  make  nothing  of  it.  I'd  rather  hear  you  whis- 
tle a  Scotch  tune.'  " 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


ties.  Talking  of  fables,  Goldsmith  observed  that 
the  animals  introduced  in  them  seldom  talked  in 
character.  "  For  instance,"  said  he,  "  the  fable 
of  the  little  fishes,  who  saw  birds  fly  over  their 
heads,  and,  envying  them,  petitioned  Jupiter  to  be 
changed  into  birds.  The  skill  consists  in  making 
them  talk  like  little  fishes.''  Just  then  observing 
that  Dr.  Johnson  was  shaking  his  sides  and  laugh- 
ing, he  immediately  added,  "  Why,  Dr.  Johnson, 
this  is  not  so  easy  as  you  seem  to  think  ;  for  it 
you  were  to  make  little  fishes  talk,  they  would  talk 
like  whales." 

But  though  Goldsmith  suffered  frequent  morti- 
fications in  society  from  the  overbearing,  and 
sometimes  harsh,  conduct  of  Johnson,  he  always 
did  justice  to  his  benevolence.  When  royal  pen- 
sions were  granted  to  Dr.  Johnson  and  Dr.  Sheb- 
beare,  a  punster  remarked,  that  the  king  had 
pensioned  a  she-bear  and  a  he-bear  j  to  which 
Goldsmith  replied,  "  Johnson,  to  be  sure,  has  a 
roughness  in  his  manner,  but  no  man  alive  has  a 
more  tender  heart.  He  has  nothing  of  the  bear 
but  tlit;  skin. 

Goldsmith,  in  conversation,  shone  most  when 
he  at  least  thought  of  shining  ;  when  he  gave  up 
all  effort  to  appear  wise  and  learned,  or  to  cope 
with  the  oracular  sententiousnessof  Johnson,  and 
gave  way  to  his  natural  impulses.  Even  Boswell 
could  perceive  his  merits  on  these  occasions. 
"  For  my  part,"  said  he,  condescendingly,  "  I 
like  very  well  to  hear  honest  Goldsmith  talk  away 
carelessly  ;"  and  many  a  much  wiser  man  than 
Boswell  delighted  in  those  outpourings  of  a  fertile 
fancy  and  a  generous  heart.  In  his  happy  moods, 
Goldsmith  had  an  artless  simplicity  and  buoyant 
good-humor,  that  led  to  a  thousand  amusing 
blunders  and  whimsical  confessions,  much  to  the 
entertainment  of  his  intimates  ;  yet,  in  his  most 
thoughtless  garrulity,  there  was  occasionally  the 
gleam  ot  the  gold  and  the  flash  of  the  diamond. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SOCIAL  RESORTS — THE  SHILLING  WHIST  CLUB — A 
PRACTICAL  JOKE — THE  WEDNESDAY  CLUB — THE 
.  "  TUN  OF  MAN" — THE  PIG  BUTCHER — TOM  KING 
—HUGH  KELLY — GLOVER  AND  HIS  CHARACTER- 
ISTICS. 

THOUGH  Goldsmith's  pride  and  ambition  led 
him  to  mingle  occasionally  with  high  society,  and 
to  engage  in  the  colloquial  conflicts  of  the  learned 
circle,  in  both  ot  which  he  was  ill  at  ease  and  con- 
scious of  being  undervalued,  yet  he  had  some  so- 
cial resorts  in  which  he  indemnified  himself  for 
their  restraints  by  indulging  his  humor  without 
control.  One  of  them  was  a  shilling  whist  club, 
which  held  its  meetings  at  the  Devil  Tavern,  near 
Temple  Bar,  a  place  rendered  classic,  we  are  told, 
by  a  club  held  there  in  old  times,  to  which  "  rare 
Ben  Jonson"  had  furnished  the  rules.  The  com- 
pany was  of  a  familiar,  unceremonious  kind,  de- 
lighting in  that  very  questionable  wit  which  con- 
sists in  playing  off  practical  jokes  upon  each 
other.  Of  one  of  these  Goldsmith  was  made  the 
butt.  Coming  to  the  club  one  night  in  a  hackney 
coach,  he  gave  the  coachman  by  mistake  a  guinea 
instead  of  a  shilling,  which  he  set  down  as  a  dead 
loss,  tor  there  was  no  likelihood,  h'e  said,  that  a 
fellow  of  this  class  would  have  the  honesty  to  re- 
turn the  money.  On  the  next  club  evening  he 
was  told  a  person  at  the  street  door  wished 
to  speak  with  him.  He  went  forth  but  soon  re- 
.  turned  with  a  radiant  countenance.  To  his  sur- 
prise and  delight  the  coachman  had  actually 


brought  back  the  guinea.  While  he  launched 
forth  in  praise  of  this  unlooked-for  piece  of  hon- 
esty, he  declared  it  ought  not  to  go  unrewarded. 
Collecting  a  small  sum  from  the  club,  and  no 
doubt  increasing  it  largely  from  his  own  purse, 
he  dismissed  the  Jehu  with  many  encomiums  on 
his  good  conduct.  He  was  still  chanting  his 
praises  when  one  of  the  club  requested  a  sight  ot 
the  guinea  thus  honestly  returned.  To  Gold- 
smith's confusion  it  proved  to  be  a  counterfeit. 
The  universal  burst  ot  laughter  which  succeeded, 
and  the  jokes  by  which  he  was  assailed  on  every 
side,  showed  him  that  the  whole  was  a  hoax,  and 
the  pretended  coachman  as  much  a  counterfeit  as 
the  guinea.  He  was  so  disconcerted,  it  is  said, 
that  he  soon  beat  a  retreat  for  the  evening. 

Another  of  those  free  and  easy  clubs  met  on 
Wednesday  evenings  at  the  Globe  Tavern  in  Fleet 
Street.  It  was  somewhat  in  the  style  of  the 
Three  Jolly  Pigeons  ;  songs,  jokes,  dramatic  imi- 
tations, burlesque  parodies  and  broad  sallies  of 
humor,  formed  a  contrast  to  the  sententious  mo- 
rality, pedantic  casuistry,  and  polished  sarcasm  of 
the  learned  circle.  Here  a  huge  "  tun  of  man," 
by  the  name  of  Gordon,  used  to  delight  Goldsmith 
by  singing  the  jovial  song  ot  Nottingham  Ale, 
and  looking  like  a  butt  of  it.  Here,  too,  a  weal- 
thy pig  butcher,  charmed,  no  doubt,  by  the  mild 
philanthropy  of  "  The  Traveller,"  aspired  to  been 
the  most  sociable  footing  with  the  author,  and  here 
was  Tom  King,  the  comedian,  recently  risen  to  con- 
sequence by  his  performance  of  Lord  Ogleby  in  the 
new  comedy  of  the  Clandestine  Marriage. 

A  member  of  more  note  was  one  Hugh  Kelly, 
a  second-rate  author,  who,  as  he  became  a  kind 
of  competitor  of  Goldsmith's,  deserves  particular 
mention.  He  was  an  Irishman,  about  twenty- 
eight  years  of  age,  originally  apprenticed,  to  a 
staymaker  in  Dublin  ;  then  writer  to  a  London 
attorney  ;  then  a  Grub  Street  hack,  scribbling 
for  magazines  and  newspapers.  Of  late  he  had  set 
up  for  theatrical  censor  and  satirist,  and,  in  a 
paper  called  Thespis,  in  emulation  of  Churchill's 
Rosciad,  had  harassed  many  of  the  poor  actors 
without  mercy,  and  often  without  wit  ;  but  had 
lavished  his  incense  on  Garrick,  who,  in  conse- 
quence, took  him  into  favor.  He  was  the  author 
of  several  works  of  superficial  merit,  but  which 
had  sufficient  vogue  to  inflate  his  vanity.  This, 
however,  must  have  been  mortified  on  his  first 
introduction  to  Johnson  ;  after  sitting  a  short 
time  he  got  up  to  take  leave,  expressing  a  fear 
that  a  longer  visit  might  be  troublesome.  "  Not 
in  the  least,  sir,"  said  the  surly  moralist,  "  I  had 
forgotten  you  were  in  the  room."  Johnson  used 
to  speak  of  him  as  a  man  who  had  written  more 
than  he  had  read. 

A  prime  wag  of  this  club  was  one  of  Gold- 
smith's poor  countrymen  and  hangers-on,  by  the 
name  of  Glover.  He  had  originally  been  edu- 
cated for  the  medical  profession,  but  had  taken  in 
early  life  to  the  stage,  though  apparently  without 
much  success.  While  performing  at  Cork,  he 
undertook,  partly  in  jest,  to  restore  life  to  the  body 
of  a  malefactor,  who  had  just  been  executed.  To 
the  astonishment  of  every  one,  himself  among  the 
number,  he  succeeded.  The  miracle  took  wind. 
He  abandoned  the  stage,  resumed  the  wig  and 
cane,  and  considered  his  fortune  as  secure.  Un- 
luckily, there  were  not  many  dead  people  to  be  re- 
stored to  life  in  Ireland  ;  his  practice  did  not 
equal  his  expectation,  so  he  came  to  London, 
where  he  continued  to  dabble  indifferently,  and 
rather  unprofitably,  in  physic  and  literature. 

He   was  a  great  frequenter  of  the  Globe  and 


222 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


Devil  taverns,  where  he  used  to  amuse  the  com- 
pany by  his  talent  at  story-telling  and  his  powers 
of  mimicry,  giving  capital  imitations  of  Garrick, 
Foote,  Coleman,  Sterne,  and  other  public  char- 
acters of  the  day.  He  seldom  happened  to  have 
money  enough  to  pay  his  reckoning,  but  was  al- 
ways sure  to  find  some  ready  purse  among  those 
who  had  been  amused  by  his  humors.  Gold- 
smith, of  course,  was  one  of  the  readiest.  It  was 
through  him  that  Glover  was  admitted  to  the 
Wednesday  Club,  of  which  his  theatrical  imita- 
tions became  the  delight.  Glover,  however,  was 
a  little  anxious  for  the  dignity  of  his  patron,  which 
appeared  to  him  to  surfer  irom  the  over-familiar- 
ity of  some  of  the  members  of  the  club.  He  was 
especially  shocked  by  the  free  and  easy  tone  in 
which  Goldsmith  was  addressed  by  the  pig- 
butcher  :  "  Come,  Noll,"  would  he  say,  as  he 
pledged  him,  "  here's  my  service  to  you,  old  boy." 

Glover  whispered  to  Goldsmith  that  he  "  should 
not  allow  such  liberties."  "  Let  him  alone,"  was 
the  reply,  "you'll  see  how  civilly  I'll  let  him 
down."  After  a  time,  he  called  out,  with  marked 
ceremony  and  politeness,  "  Mr.  B.,  I  have  the 
honor  of  drinking  your  good  health."  Alas  ! 
dignity  was  not  poor  Go'ldsmith's  forte  :  he  could 
keep  no  one  at  a  distance.  "  Thank'ee,  thank'ee, 
Noll,"  nodded  the  pig-butcher,  scarce  taking  the 
pipe  out  of  his  mouth.  "  I  don't  see  the  effect  of 
your  reproof,"  whispered  Glover.  "  I  give  it  up," 
replied  Goldsmith,  with  a  good-humored  shrug, 
"  I  ought  to  have  known  before  now  there  is  no 
putting  a  pig  in  the  right  way." 

Johnson  used  to  be  severe  upon  Goldsmith  for 
mingling  in  these  motley  circles,  observing,  that, 
having  been  originally  poor,  he  had  contracted  a 
love  ior  low  company.  Goldsmith,  however,  was 
guided  not  by  a  taste  for  what  was  low,  but  for 
what  was  comic  and  characteristic.  It  was  the 
feeling  of  the  artist  ;  the  feeling  which  furnished 
out  some  of  his  best  scenes  in  familiar  life  ;  the 
feeling  with  which  "  rare  Ben  Jonson,"  sought 
these  very  haunts  and  circles  in  days  of  yore,  to 
study  "  Every  Man  in  his  Humor." 

It  was  not  always,  however,  that  the  humor  of 
these  associates  was  to  his  taste  :  as  they  became 
boisterous  in  their  merriment,  he  was  apt  to  be- 
come depressed.  "  The  company  of  fools,"  says 
he,  in  one  of  his  essays,  "  may  at  first  make  us 
smile  ;  but  at  last  never  fails  of  making  us  melan- 
choly." Often  he  would  become  moody,'  says 
Glover,  "  and  would  leave  the  party  abruptly  to  go 
home  and  brood  over  his  misfortune. 

It  is  possible,  however,  that  he  went  home  for 
quite  a  different  purpose  ;  to  commit  to  paper 
some  scene  or  passage  suggested  for  his  comedy 
of  The  Good-Natured  Man.  The  elaboration  of 
humor  is  often  a  most  serious  task  ;  and  we  have 
never  witnessed  a  more  perfect  picture  of  mental 
misery  than  was  once  presented  to  us  by  a  popu- 
lar dramatic  writer — still,  we  hope,  living — whom 
we  found  in  the  agonies  of  producing  a  farce 
which  subsequently  set  the  theatres  in  a  roar. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE  GREAT  CHAM  OF  LITERATURE  AND  THE 
KING — SCENE  AT  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS'S — 
GOLDSMITH  ACCUSED  OF  JEALOUSY — NEGOTIA- 
TIONS WITH  GARRICK — THE  AUTHOR  AND  THE 
ACTOR — THEIR  CORRESPONDENCE. 

THE  comedy  of  The  Good-Natured  Man  was 
completed  by  Goldsmith  early  in  1767,  and  sub- 
mitted to  the  perusal  of  Johnson,  Burke,  Reynolds, 


and  others  of  the  literary  club,  by  whom  it  was 
heartily  approved.  Johnson,  who  was  seldom 
half  way  either  in  censure  or  applause,  pronounced 
it  the  best  comedy  that  had  been  written  since 
The  Provoked  Husband,  and  promised  to  furnish 
the  prologue.  This  immediately  became  an  ob- 
ject of  great  solicitude  with  Goldsmith,  knowing 
the  weight  an  introduction  from  the  Great  Cham 
of  literature  would  have  with  the  public  ;  but  cir- 
cumstances occurred  which  he  feared  might  drive 
the  comedy  and  the  prologue  from  Johnson's 
thoughts.  The  latter  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
the  royal  library  at  the  Queen's  (Buckingham) 
House,  a  noble  collection  of  books,  in  the  forma- 
tion of  which  he  had  assisted  the  librarian,  Mr. 
Bernard,  with  his  advice.  One  evening,  as  he 
was  seated  there  by  the  fire  reading,  he  was  sur- 
prised by  the  entrance  of  the  King  (George  III.), 
then  a  young  man  ;  who  sought  this  occasion  to 
have  a  conversation  with  him.  The  conversation 
was  varied  and  discursive  ;  the  king  shifting  from 
subject  to  subject  according  to  his  wont  ;  "  dur- 
ing the  whole  interview,"  says  Boswell,  "John- 
son talked  to  his  majesty  with  profound  respect, 
but  still  in  his  open,  manly  manner,  with  a  sono- 
rous voice,  and  never  in  that  subdued  tone  which 
is  commonly  used  at  the  levee  and  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. '  I  lound  his  majesty  wished  I  should 
talk,'  said  he,  '  and  I  made  it  my  business  to  talk. 
I  find  it  does  a  man  good  to  be  talked  to  by  his 
sovereign.  In  the  first  place,  a  man  cannot  be  in 
a  passion — '  "  It  would  have  been  well  for  John- 
son's colloquial  disputants,  could  he  have  often 
been  under  such  decorous  restraint.  He  retired 
from  the  interview  highly  gratified  with  the  conver-  - 
sation  of  the  King  and  with  his  gracious  behavior. 
"  Sir,"  said  he  to  the  librarian,  "  they  may  talk  of  i 
the  King  as  they  will,  but  he  is  the  finest  gentleman 
I  have  ever  seen."  "Sir,"  said  he  subsequently  to 
Bennet  Langton,  "  his  manners  are  those  of  as 
fine  a  gentleman  as  we  may  suppose  Lewis  the 
Fourteenth  or  Charles  the  Second." 

While  Johnson's  face  was  still  radiant  with  the 
reflex  of  royalty,  he  was  holding  forth  one  day  to 
a  listening  group  at  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's,  who 
were  anxious  to  hear  every  particular  of  this 
memorable  conversation.  Among  other  ques- 
tions, the  King  had  asked  him  whether  he  was 
writing  anything.  His  reply  was  that  he  thought 
he  had  already  done  his  part  as  a  writer.  "  I 
should  have  thought  so  too,"  said  the  King,  "  if 
you  had  not  written  so  well."  "  No  man,"  said 
Johnson,  commenting  on  this  speech,  "  could 
have  made  a  handsomer  compliment  ;  and  it  was 
fit  for  a  king  to  pay.  It  was  decisive."  "  But 
did  you  make  no  reply  to  this  high  compliment  ?" 
asked  one  of  the  company.  "No,  sir,("  replied 
the  profoundly  deferential  Johnson,  "  when  the 
king  had  said  it,  it  was  to  be  so.  It  was  not  for 
me  to  bandy  civilities  with  my  sovereign." 

During  all  the  time  that  Johnson  was  thus 
holding  forth,  Goldsmith,  who  was  present,  ap- 
peared to  take  no  interest  in  the  royal  theme,  but 
remained  seated  on  a  sofa  at  a  distance,  in  a 
moody  fit  of  abstraction  ;  at  length  recollecting 
himself,  he  sprang  up,  and  advancing,  exclaimed, 
with  what  Boswell  calls  his  usual  "  frankness  and 
simplicity,"  "  Well,  you  acquitted  yourself  in  this 
conversation  better  than  I  should  have  clone,  for 
I  should  have  bowed  and  stammered  through  the 
whole  of  it."  He  afterward  explained  his  seem- 
ing inattention,  by  saying  that  his  mind  was  com- 
pletely occupied  about  his  play,  and  by  fears  lest 
Johnson,  in  his  present  state  of  royal  excitement, 
would  fail  to  furnish  the  much-desired  prologue. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


223 


How  natural  and  truthiul  is  this  explanation. 
Yet  Boswell  presumes  to  pronounce  Goldsmith's 
inattention  affected  and  attributes  it  to  jealousy. 
"  It  was  strongly  suspected,"  says  he,  "  that  he 
was  fretting  with  chagrin  and  envy  at  the  singular 
honor  Dr.  Johnson  had  lately  enjoyed."  It  need- 
ed the  littleness  of  mind  of  Boswell  to  ascribe 
such  pitiful  motives  to  Goldsmith,  and  to  enter- 
tain such  exaggerated  notions  of  the  honor  paid 
to  Dr.  Johnson. 

The  Good-Natured  Man  was  now  ready  for  per- 
formance, but  the  question  was  how  to  get  it  upon 
the  stage.  The  affairs  of  Covent  Garden,  for 
which  it  had  been  intended,  were  thrown  in  con- 
fusion by  the  recent  death  of  Rich,  the  manager. 
Drury  Lane  was  under  the  management  of  Gar- 
rick,  but  a  feucl,  it  will  be  recollected,  existed  be- 
tween him  and  the  poet,  from  the  animadversions 
of  the  latter  on  the  mismanagement  of  theatrical 
affairs,  and  the  refusal  of  the  former  to  give  the 
poet  his  vote  for  the  secretaryship  of  the  Society 
of  Arts.  Times,  however,  were  changed.  Gold- 
smith when  that  feud  took  place  was  an  anony- 
mous writer,  almost  unknown  to  fame,  and  of  no 
circulation  in  society.  Now  he  had  become  a 
literary  lion  ;  he  was  a  member  of  the  Literary 
Club  ;  he  was  the  associate  of  Johnson,  Burke, 
Topham  Beauclerc,  and  other  magnates — in  a 
word,  he  had  risen  to  consequence  in  the  public 
eye,  and  of  course  was  of  consequence  in  the  eyes 
of  David  Garrick.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  saw  the 
lurking  scruples  of  pride  existing  between  the 
author  and  actor,  and  thinking  it  a  pity  that  two 
men  of  such  congenial  talents,  and  who  might  be 
so  serviceable  to  each  other,  should  be  kept  asun- 
der by  a  worn-out  pique,  exerted  his  friendly 
offices  to  bring  them  together.  The  meeting  took 
place  in  Reynolds's  house  in  Leicester  Square. 
Garrick,  however,  could  not  entirely  put  off  the 
mock  majesty  of  the  stage  ;  he  meant  to  be  civil, 
but  he  was  rather  too  gracious  and  condescend- 
ing. Tom  Da  vies,  in  his  "  Life  of  Garrick,"  gives 
an  amusing  picture  of  the  coming  together  of 
these  punctilious  parties.  "  The  manager,"  says 
he,  "  was  fully  conscious  of  his  (Goldsmith's) 
merit,  and  perhaps  more  ostentatious  of  his  abili- 
ties to  serve  a  dramatic  author  than  became  a 
man  of  his  prudence  ;  Goldsmith  was,  on  his 
side,  as  fully  persuaded  of  his  own  importance 
and  independent  greatness.  Mr.  Garrick,  who 
had  so  long  been  treated  with  the  complimentary 
language  paid  to  a  successful  patentee  and  ad- 
mired actor,  expected  that  the  writer  would  es- 
teem the  patronage  of  his  play  a  favor;  Goldsmith 
rejected  all  ideas  of  kindness  in  a  bargain  that 
was  intended  to  be  of  mutual  advantage  to  both 
parties,  and  in  this  he  was  certainly  justifiable  ; 
Mr.  Garrick  could  reasonably  expect  no  thanks 
for  the  acting  a  new  play,  which  he  would  have 
rejected  if  he  had  not  been  convinced  it  would 
have  amply  rewarded  his  pains  and  expense.  I 
believe  the  manager  was  willing  to  accept  the 
play,  but  he  wished  to  be  courted  to  it  ;  and  the 
doctor  was  not  disposed  to  purchase  his  friendship 
by  the  resignation  of  his  sincerity."  They  sepa- 
rated, however,  with  an  understanding  on  the  part 
of  Goldsmith  that  his  play  would  be  acted.  The 
conduct  of  Garrick  subsequently  proved  evasive, 
not  through  any  lingerings  of  past  hostility,  but 
from  habitual  indecision  in  matters  of  the  kind, 
and  from  real  scruples  of  delicacy.  He  did  not 
think  the  piece  likely  to  succeed  on  the  stage,  and 
avowed  that  opinion  to  Reynolds  and  Johnson  ; 
but  hesitated  to  say  as  much  to  Goldsmith, 
through  fear  of  wounding  his  feelings.  A  further 


misunderstanding  was  the  result  of  this  want  of 
decision  and  frankness  ;  repeated  interviews  and 
some  correspondence  took  place  without  bringing 
matters  to  a  point,  and  in  the  meantime  the  the- 
atrical season  passed  away. 

Goldsmith's  pocket,  never  well  supplied, 
suffered  grievously  by  this  delay,  and  he  consid- 
ered himself  entitled  to  call  upon  the  manager, 
who  still  talked  of  acting  the  play,  to  advance  him 
forty  pounds  upon  anoteol  the  younger  Newbery. 
Garrick  readily  complied,  but  subsequently  sug- 
gested certain  important  alterations  in  the  comedy 
as  indispensable  to  its  success  ;  these  were  indig- 
nantly rejected  by  the  author,  but  pertinaciously 
insisted  on  by  the  manager.  Garrick  proposed  to 
leave  the  matter  of  the  arbitration  to  Whitehead, 
the  laureate,  who  officiated  as  his  "  reader"  and 
elbow  critic.  Goldsmith  was  more  indignant 
than  ever,  and  a  violent  dispute  ensued,  which 
was  only  calmed  by  the  interference  of  Burke  and 
Reynolds. 

Just  at  this  time,  order  came  out  of  confusion 
in  the  affairs  of  Covent  Garden.  A  pique  having 
risen  between  Colman  and  Garrick,  in  the  course 
of  their  joint  authorship  of  The  Clandestine  Mar- 
riage, the  former  had  become  manager  and  part 
proprietor  of  Covent  Garden,  and  was  preparing 
to  open  a  powerful  competition  with  his  former 
colleague.  On  hearing  of  this,  Goldsmith  made 
overtures  to  Colman  ;  who,  without  waiting  to 
consult  his  fellow  proprietors,  who  were  absent, 
gave  instantly  a  favorable  reply.  Goldsmith  felt 
the  contrast  of  this  warm,  encouraging  conduct,  to 
the  chilling  delays  and  objections  of  Garrick.  He 
at  once  abandoned  his  piece  to  the  discretion  of 
Colman.  "  Dear  sir,"  says  he  in  a  letter  dated 
Temple  Garden  Court,  July  Qth,"  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kind  partiality  in  my 
favor,  and  your  tenderness  in  shortening  the  in- 
terval of  my  expectation.  That  the  play  is  liable 
to  many  objections  I  well  know,  but  I  am  happy 
that  it  is  in  hands  the  most  capable  in  the  world 
of  removing  them.  If  then,  clear  sir,  you  will 
complete  your  favor  by  putting  the  piece  into  such 
a  state  as  it  may  be  acted,  or  of  directing  me  how 
to  do  it,  I  shall  ever  retain  a  sense  of  your  good- 
ness to  me.  And  indeed,  though  most  probably 
this  be  the  last  I  shall  ever  write,  yet  I  can't  help 
feeling  a  secret  satisfaction  that  poets  for  the  fu- 
ture are  likely  to  have  a  protector  who  declines 
taking-  advantage  of  their  dreadful  situation  ;  and 
scorns  that  importance  which  may  be  acquired  by 
trifling  with  their  anxieties." 

The  next  day  Goldsmith  wrote  to  Garrick,  who 
was  at  Lichfield,  informing  him  of  his  having 
transferred  his  piece  to  Covent  Garden,  for  which 
it  had  been  originally  written,  and  by  the  patentee 
of  which  it  was  claimed,  observing,  "  as  I  found 
you  had  very  great  difficulties  about  that  piece,  I 
complied  with  his  desire.  ...  I  am  ex- 
tremely sorry  that  you  should  think-  me  warm  at 
our  last  meeting  ;  your  judgment  certainly  ought 
to  be  free,  especially  in  a  matter  which  must  in 
some  measure  concern  your  own  credit  and  inter- 
est. I  assure  you,  sir,  I  have  no  disposition  to 
differ  with  you  on  this  or  any  other  account,  but 
am,  with  a  high  opinion  of  your  abilities,  and  a 
very  real  esteem,  Sir,  your  most  obedient  humble 
servant.  Oliver  Goldsmith." 

In  his  reply,  Garrick  observed,  "  I  was,  indeed, 
much  hurt  that  your  warmth  at  our  last  meeting 
mistook  my  sincere  and  friendly  attention  to  your 
play  for  the  remains  of  a  former  misunderstand- 
ing, which  I  had  as  much  forgot  as  if  it  had  never 
existed.  What  I  said  to  you  at  my  own  house  I 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


now  repeat,  that  I  felt  more  pain  in  giving-  my  sen- 
timents than  you  possibly  would  in  receiving 
them.  It  has  been  the  business,  and  ever  will  be, 
of  my  Hie  to  live  on  the  best  terms  with  men  of 
genius  ;  and  I  know  that  Dr.  Goldsmith  will  have 
no  reason  to  change  his  previous  friendly  disposi- 
tion toward  me,  as  I  shall  be  glad  of  every  future 
opportunity  to  convince  him  how  much  I  am  his 
obedient  servant  and  well-wisher.  D.  GARRICK." 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

MORE  HACK  AUTHORSHIP — TOM  DAVIES  AND 
THE  ROMAN  HISTORY — CANONBURY  CASTLE — 
POLITICAL  AUTHORSHIP — PECUNIARY  TEMPTA- 
TION— DEATH  OF  NEWBERY  THE  ELDER. 

THOUGH  Goldsmith's  comedy  was  now  in  train 
to  be  performed,  it  could  not  be  brought  out  be- 
fore Christmas  ;  in  the  meantime,  he  must  live. 
Again,  therefore,  he  had  to  resort  to  literary  jobs 
for  his  daily  support.  These  obtained  for  him 
petty  occasional  sums,  the  largest  of  which  was 
ten  pounds,  from  the  elder  Newbery,  for  an  his- 
torical compilation  ;  but  this  scanty  rill  of  quasi 
patronage,  so  sterile  in  its  products,  was  likely 
soon  to  cease  ;  Newbery  being  too  ill  to  attend  to 
business,  and  having  to  transfer  the  whole  man- 
agement of  it  to  his  nephew. 

At  this  time  Tom  Davies,  the  sometime  Ros- 
cius,  sometime  bibliopole,  stepped  forward  to 
Goldsmith's  relief,  and  proposed  that  he  should 
undertake  an  easy  popular  history  of  Rome  in  two 
volumes.  An  arrangement  was  soon  made. 
Goldsmith  undertook  to  complete  it  in  two  years, 
if  possible,  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  guineas,  and 
forthwith  set  about  his  task  with  cheerful  alac- 
rity. As  usual,  he  sought  a  rural  retreat  during 
the  summer  months,  where  he  might  alternate  his 
literary  labors  with  strolls  about  the  green  fields. 
"  Merry  Islington"  was  again  his  resort,  but  he 
now  aspired  to  better  quarters  than  formerly,  and 
engaged  the  chambers  occupied  occasionally  by 
Mr.  Newbery  in  Canonbury  House,  or  Castle  as  it 
is  popularly  called.  This  had  been  a  hunting 
lodge  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  in  whose  time  it  was 
surrounded  by  parks  and  forests.  In  Goldsmith's 
day,  nothing  remained  of  it  but  an  old  brick 
tower  ;  it  was  still  in  the  country,  amid  rural 
scenery,  and  was  a  favorite  nestling-place  of 
authors,  publishers,  and  others  of  the  literary 
order.*  A  number  of  these  he  had  for  fellow  oc- 
cupants of  the  castle  ;  and  they  formed  a  tem- 
porary club,  which  held  its  meetings  at  the  Crown 
Tavern,  on  the  Islington  lower  road  ;  and  here  he 
presided  in  his  own  genial  style,  and  was  the  life 
and  delight  of  the  company. 

The  writer  of  these  pages  visited  old  Canonbury 
Castle  some  years  since,  out  of  regard  to  the 
memory  of  Goldsmith.  The  apartment  was  still 
shown  which  the  poet  had  inhabited,  consisting  of 

,*  See  on  the  distant  slope,  majestic  shows 
Old  Canonbury's  tower,  an  ancient  pile 
To  various  fates  assigned  ;  and  where  by  turns 
Meanness  and  grandeur  have  alternate  reign'd  ; 
Thither,  in  latter  days,  have  genius  fled 
From  yonder  city,  to  respire  and  die. 
There  the  sweet  bard  of  Auburn  sat,  and  tuned 
The  plaintive  meanings  of  his  village  dirge. 
There  learned  Chambers  treasured  lore  for  men, 

-  -  And  Newbery  there  his  A  B  C's  for  babes.  • 


a  sitting-room  and  small  bedroom,  with  panelled 
wainscots  and  Gothic  windows.  The  quaintness 
and  quietude  of  the  place  were  still  attractive.  It 
was  one  of  the  resorts  oi  citizens  on  their  Sunday 
walks,  who  would  ascend  to  the  top  of  the  tower 
and  amuse  themseves  with  reconnoitring  the  city- 
through  a  telescope.  Not  far  from  this  tower 
were  the  gardens  of  the  White  Conduit  House,  a 
Cockney  Elysium,  where  Goldsmith  used  to  figure 
in  the  humbler  days  of  his  iortune.  In  the  first 
edition  of  his  "  Essays"  he  speaks  of  a  stroll  in 
these  gardens,  where  he  at  that  time,  no  doubt, 
thought  himself  in  perfectly  genteel  society. 
After  his  rise  in  the  world,  however,  he  became 
too  knowing  to  speak  of  such  plebeian  haunts.  In 
a  new  edition  of  his  "  Essays,"  therefore,  the 
White  Conduit  House  and  its  garden  disappears, 
and  he  speaks  of  "  a  stroll  in  the  Park." 

While  Goldsmith  was  literally  living  from  hand 
to  mouth  by  the  forced  drudgery  of  the  pen,  his 
independence  of  spirit  was  subjected  to  a  sore 
pecuniary  trial.  It  was  the  opening  of  Lord 
North's  administration,  a  time  of  great  political 
excitement.  The  public  mind  was  agitated  by  the 
question  of  American  taxation,  and  other  ques- 
tions of  like  irritating  tendency.  Junius  and 
Wilkes  and  other  powerful  writers  were  attacking 
the  administration  with  all  their  force  ;  Grub 
Street  was  stirred  up  to  its  lowest  depths  ;  inflam- 
matory talent  of  all  kinds  was  in  full  activity,  and' 
the  kingdom  was  deluged  with  pamphlets,  lam- 
poons and  libels  of  the  grossest  kinds.  The  min- 
istry were  looking  anxiously  round  for  literary 
support.  It  was  thought  that  the  pen  of  Gold- 
smith might  be  readily  enlisted.  His  hospitable 
friend  and  countryman,  Robert  Nugent,  politically 
known  as  Squire  Gawky,  had  come  out  strenu- 
ously for  colonial  taxation  ;  had  been  selected  for 
a  lordship  of  the  board  of  trade,  and  raised  to  the 
rank  of  Baron  Nugent  and  Viscount  Clare.  His  ex- 
ample, it  was  thought,  would  be  enough  of  itself, 
to  bring  Goldsmith  into  the  ministerial  ranks  ;  and 
then  what  writer  of  the  clay  was  proof  against  a 
full  purse  or  a  pension  ?  Accordingly  one  Parson 
Scott,  chaplain  to  Lord  Sandwich,  and  author  of 
Anti  Se  anus  Panurge,  and  other  political  libels 
in  support  of  the  administration,  was  sent  to  ne- 
gotiate with  the  poet,  who  at  this  time  was  re- 
turned to  town.  Dr.  Scott,  in  after  years,  when 
his  political  subserviency  had  been  rewarded  by 
two  fat  crown  livings,  used  to  make  what  he  con- 
sidered a  good  story  out  of  this  embassy  to  the 
poet.  "  I  found  him,"  said  he,  "  in  a  miserable 
suit  of  chambers  in  the  Temple.  I  told  him  my 
authority  :  I  told  how  I  was  empowered  to  pay 
most  liberally  for  his  exertions  ;  and,  would  you 
believe  it  !  he  was  so  absurd  as  to  say,  '  I  can 
earn  as  much  as  will  supply  my  wants  without 
writing  for  any  party  ;  the  assistance  you  offer  is 
therefore  unnecessary  to  me  ; ' — and  so  I  left  him 
in  his  garret  !"  Who  does  not  admire  the  sturdy 
independence  of  poor  Goldsmith  toiling  in  his 
garret  for  nine. guineas  the  job,  and  smile  with 
contempt  at  the  indignant  wonder  of  the  political 
divine,  albeit  his  subserviency  was  repaid  by  two 
fat  crown  livings  ? 

Not  long  after  this  occurrence,  Goldsmith's  old  • 
friend,  though  frugal-handed  employer,  Newbery, 
of  picture-book  renown,  closed  his  mortal  career. 
The  poet  has  celebrated  him  as  the  friend  of  all 
mankind  ;  he  certainly  lost  nothing  by  his  friend- 
ship. He  coined  the  brains  of  his  authors  in  the 
times  of  their  exigency,  and  made  them  pay  dear 
for  the  plank  put  out  to  keep  them  from  drowning. 
It  is  not  likely  his  death  caused  much  lamentation- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


225 


among  the  scribbling  tribe  ;  we  may  express  de- 
cent respect  for  the  memory  of  the  just,  but  we 
shed  tears  only  at  the  grave  of  the  generous. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THEATRICAL  MANOEUVRING — THE  COMEDY  OF 
"FALSE  DELICACY" — FIRST  PERFORMANCE  OF 
"THE  GOOD-NATURED  MAN" — CONDUCT  OF 
JOHNSON — CONDUCT  OF  THE  AUTHOR— INTER- 
MEDDLING OF  THE  PRESS. 

THE  comedy  of  The  Good-Natured  Man  was 
doomed  to  experience  delays  and  difficulties  to  the 
very  last.  Garrick,  notwithstanding  his  profes- 
sions, had  still  a  lurking  grudge  against  the 
author,  and  tasked  his  managerial  arts  to  thwart 
him  in  his  theatrical  enterprise.  For  this  pur- 
pose he  undertook  to  build  up  Hugh  Kelly,  Gold- 
smith's boon  companion  of  the  Wednesday  Club, 
as  a  kind  of  rival.  Kelly  had  written  a  comedy 
called  False  Delicacy,  in  which  were  embodied 
all  the  meretricious  qualities  of  the  sentimental 
school.  Garrick,  though  he  had  decried  that 
school,  and  had  brought  out  his  comedy  of  The 
Clandestine  Marriage  in  opposition  to  it,  now 
lauded  False  Delicacy  to  the  skies,  and  prepared 
to  bring  it  out  at  Drury  Lane  with  all  possible 
stage  effect.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  write  a 
prologue  and  epilogue  for  it,  and  to  touch  up 
some  parts  ol  the  dialogue.  He  had  become 
reconciled  to  his  former  colleague,  Colman,  and 
it  is  intimated  that  one  condition  in  the  treaty  of 
peace  between  these  potentates  of  the  realms  of 
pasteboard  (equally  prone  to  play  into  each  other's 
hands  with  the  confederate  potentates  on  the 
great  theatre  of  life)  was,  that  Goldsmith's  play 
should  be  kept  back  until  Kelly's  had  been 
brought  forward. 

In  the  mean  time  the  poor  author,  little  dream- 
ing of  the  deleterious  influence  at  work  behind 
the  scenes,  saw  the  appointed  time  arrive  and 
pass  by  without  the  performance  of  his  play  ; 
while  False  Delicacy  was  brought  out  at  Drury 
Lane  (January  23,  1768)  with  all  the  trickery  of 
managerial  management.  Houses  were  packed 
to  applaud  it  to  the  echo  ;  the  newspapers  vied 
with  each  other  in  their  venal  praises,  and  night 
after  night  seemed  to  give  it  a  fresh  triumph. 

While  False  Delicacy  was  thus  borne  on  the 
full  tide  of  fictitious  prosperity,  The  Good-Na- 
tured Man  was  creeping  through  the  last  rehear- 
sals at  Covent  Garden.  The  success  of  the  rival 
piece  threw  a  damp  upon  author,  manager,  and 
actors.  Goldsmith  went  about  with  a  face  full  of 
anxiety  ;  Colman's  hopes  in  the  piece  declined  at 
each  rehearsal  ;  as  to  his  fellow  proprietors,  they 
declared  they  had  never  entertained  any.  All  the 
actors  were  discontented  with  their  parts,  except- 
ing Ned  Shuter,  an  excellent  low  comedian,  and  a 
pretty  actress  named  Miss  Walford  ;  both  of  whom 
the  poor  author  ever  afterward  held  in  grateful 
recollection. 

Johnson,  Goldsmith's  growling  monitor  and  un- 
sparing castigator  in  times  of  heedless  levity, 
Stood  by  him  at  present  with  that  protecting  kind- 
ness with  which  he  ever  befriended  him  in  time  of 
need.  He  attended  the  rehearsals  ;  he  furnished 
the  prologue  according  to  promise  ;  he  pish'd  and 
pshaw'd  at  any  doubts  and  fears  on  the  part  of  the 
author,  but  gave  him  sound  counsel,  and  held 
him  up  with  a  steadast  and  manly  hand.  In- 


spirited by  his  sympathy,  Goldsmith  plucked  up 
new  heart,  and  arrayed  himself  for  the  grand 
trial  with  unusual  care.  Ever  since  his  elevation 
into  the  polite  world,  he  had  improved  in  his  ward- 
robe and  toilet.  Johnson  could  no  longer  accuse 
him  of  being  shabby  in  his  appearance  ;  he  rather 
went  to  the  other  extreme.  On  the  present  occa* 
sion  there  is  an  entry  in  the  books  of  his  tailor, 
Mr.  William  Filby,  of  a  suit  of  "  Tyrian  bloom, 
satin  grain,  and  garter  blue  silk  breeches,  £% 
is.  yd."  Thus  magnificently  attired,  he  attended 
the  theatre  and  watched  the  reception  of  the  play, 
and  the  effect  of  each  individual  scene,  with  that 
vicissitude  of  feeling  incident  to  his  mercurial  na- 
ture. 

Johnson's  prologue  was  solemn  in  itself,  and 
being  delivered  by  Brinsley  in  lugubrious  tones 
suited  to  the  ghost  in  Hamlet,  seemed  to  throw  a 
portentous  gloom  on  the  audience.  Some  of  the 
scenes  met  with  great  applause,  and  at  such  times 
Goldsmith  was  highly  elated  ;  others  went  off 
coldly,  or  there  were  slight  tokens  of  disapproba- 
tion, and  then  his  spirits  would  sink.  The  fourth 
act  saved  the  piece  ;  for  Shuter,  who  had  the  main 
comic  character  of  Croaker,  was  so  varied  and 
ludicrous  in  his  execution  of  the  scene  in  which, 
he  reads  an  incendiary  letter,  that  he  drew  down 
thunders  of  applause.  On  his  coming  behind  the 
scenes,  Goldsmith  greeted  him  with  an  overflowing 
heart  ;  declaring  that  he  exceeded  his  own  idea  of 
the  character,  and  made  it  almost  as  new  to  him 
as  to  any  of  the  audience. 

On  the  whole,  however,  both  the  author  and  his 
friends  were  disappointed  at  the  reception  of  the 
piece,  and  considered  it  a  failure.  Poor  Gold- 
smith left  the  theatre  with  his  towering  hopes 
completely  cut  down.  He  endeavored  to  hide  his 
mortification,  and  even  to  assume  an  air  of  uncon- 
cern while  among  his  associates  ;  but,  the  mo- 
ment he  was  alone  with  Dr.  Johnson,  in  whose 
rough  but  magnanimous  nature  he  reposed  un- 
limited confidence,  he  threw  off  all  restraint  and 
gave  way  to  an  almost  childlike  burst  of  grief. 
Johnson,  who  had  shown  no  want  of  sympathy  at 
the  proper  time,  saw  nothing  in  the  partial  disap- 
pointment of  overrated  expectations  to  warrant 
such  ungoverned  emotions,  and  rebuked  him 
sternly  for  what  he  termed  a  silly  affectation,  say- 
ing that  "  No  man  should  be  expected  to  sympa- 
thize with  the  sorrows  of  vanity." 

When  Goldsmith  had  recovered  from  the  blow, 
he,  with  his  usual  unreserve,  made  his  past  distress 
a  subject  of  amusement  to  his  friends.  Dining 
one  day,  in  company  with  Dr.  Johnson,  at  the 
chaplain's  table  at  St.  James's  Palace,  he  enter- 
tained the  company  with  a  particular  and  comic 
account  of  all  his  feelings  on  the  night  of  repre- 
sentation, and  his  despair  when  the  piece  was 
hissed.  How  he  went,  he  said,  to  the  Literary 
Club  ;  chatted  gayly,  as  if  nothing  had  gone 
amiss  ;  and,  to  give  a  greater  idea  of  his  uncon- 
cern, sang  his  favorite  song  about  an  old  woman 
tossed  in  a  blanket  seventeen  times  as  high  as  the 
moon.  .  .  .  "All  this  while, "added  he,  "I 
was  suffering  horrid  tortures,  and,  had  I  put  a  bit 
in  my  mouth,  I  verily  believe  it  would  have  stran- 
gled me  on  the  spot,  I  was  so  excessively  ill  :  but 
I  made  more  noise  than  usual  to  cover  all  that ; 
so  they  never  perceived  my  not  eating,  nor  sus- 
pected the  anguish  of  my  heart  ;  but,  when  all 
were  gone  except  Johnson  here,  I  burst  out  a-cry- 
ing,  and  even  swore  that  I  would  never  write 
again." 

Dr.  Johnson  sat  in  amaze  at  the  odd  frankness 
and  childlike,  self-accusation  of  poor  Goldsmith. 


22G 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


When  the  latter  had  come  to  a  pause,  "  All  this, 
doctor,"  said  he  dryly,  "  I  thought  had  been  a 
secret  between  you  and  me,  and  I  am  sure  I  would 
not  have  said  anything  about  it  for  the  world." 
But  Goldsmith  had  no  secrets  :  his  follies,  his 
weaknesses,  his  errors  were  all  thrown  to  the  sur- 
face ;  his  heart  was  really  too  guileless  and  inno- 
cent to  seek  mystery  and  concealment.  It  is  too 
often  the  false,  designing  man  that  is  guarded  in 
his  conduct  and  never  offends  proprieties. 

It  is  singular,  however,  that  Goldsmith,  who 
thus  in  conversation  could  keep  nothing  to  him- 
self, should  be  the  author  of  a  maxim  which  would 
inculcate  the  most  thorough  dissimulation. 
"  Men  of  the  world,"  says  he,  in  one  of  the  papers 
of  the  Bcc,  "  maintain  that  the  true  end  of  speech 
is  not  so  much  to  express  our  wants  as  to  conceal 
them."  How  often  is  this  quoted  as  one  of  the 
subtle  remarks  of  the  fine  wilted  Talleyrand  ! 

The  Good-Natured  Man  was  performed  for  ten 
nights  in  succession  ;  the  third,  sixth,  and  ninth 
nights  were  for  the  author's  benefit  ;  the  fifth  night 
it  was  commanded  by  their  majesties  ;  after  this 
it  was  played  occasionally,  but  rarely,  having 
always  pleased  more  in  the  closet  than  on  the 
stage. 

As  to  Kelly's  comedy,  Johnson  pronounced  it 
entirely  devoid  of  character,  and  it  has  long  since 
passed  into  oblivion.  Yet  it  is  an  instance  how 
an  inferior  production,  by  dint  of  puffing  and 
trumpeting,  may  be  kept  up  fora  time  on  the  sur- 
face of  popular  opinion,  or  rather  of  popular  talk. 
What  had  been  done  for  False  Delicacy  on  the 
stage  was  continued  by  the  press.  The  book- 
sellers vied  with  the  manager  in  launching  it  upon 
the  town.  They  announced  that  the  first  impres- 
sion of  three  thousand  copies  was  exhausted  be- 
fore two  o'clock  on  the  day  of  publication  ;  four 
editions,  amounting  to  ten  thousand  copies,  were 
sold  in  the  course  of  the  season  ;  a  public  break- 
fast was  given  to  Kelly  at  the  Chapter  Coffee 
House,  and  a  piece  of  plate  presented  to  him  by 
the  publishers.  The  comparative  merits  of  the 
two  plays  were  continually  subjects  ol  discussion 
in  green-rooms,  coffee-houses,  and  other  places 
where  theatrical  questions  were  discussed. 

Goldsmith's  old  enemy,  Kenrick,  that  "  viper  of 
the  press,"  endeavored  on  this  as  on  many  other 
occasions  to  detract  from  his  well-earned  fame  ; 
the  poet  was  excessively  sensitive  to  these  attacks, 
and  had  not  the  art  and  self-command  to  conceal 
his  feelings. 

Some  scribblers  on  the  other  side  insinuated 
that  Kelly  had  seen  the  manuscript  of  Goldsmith's 
play,  while  in  the  hands  of  Garrick  or  elsewhere, 
and  had  borrowed  some  of  the  situations  and  sen- 
timents. Some  of  the  wags  of  the  day  took  a  mis- 
chievous pleasure  in  stirring  up  a  feud  between 
the  two  authors.  Goldsmith  became  nettled, 
though  he  could  scarcely  be  deemed  jealous  of 
one  so  far  his  inferior.  He  spoke  disparagingly, 
though  no  doubt  sincerely,  of  Kelly's  play  :  the 
latter  retorted.  Still,  when  they  met  one  day  be- 
hind the  scenes  of  Covent  Garden,  Goldsmith, 
with  his  customary  urbanity,  congratulated  Kelly 
on  his  success.  "  If  I  thought  you  sincere,  Mr. 
Goldsmith,"  replied  the  other,  abruptly,  "  I  should 
thank  you."  Goldsmith  was  not  a  man  to  harbor 
spleen  or  ill-will,  and  soon  laughed  at  this  un- 
worthy rivalship  :  but  the  jealousy  and  envy 
awakened  in  Kelly's  mind  long  continued.  He  is 
even  accused  of  having  given  vent  to  his  hostility 
by  anonymous  attacks  in  the  newspapers,  the 
basest  resource  of  dastardly  and  malignant  spirits  ; 
but  of  this  there  is  no  positive  proof. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

BURNING     THE     CANDLE     AT    BOTH     ENDS — FINE 
APARTMENTS  —  FINE  FURNITURE  —   FINE 

CLOTHES  —  FINE  ACQUAINTANCES  —  SHOE- 
MAKER'S HOLIDAY  AND  JOLLY  PIGEON  ASSO- 
CIATES— PETER  BARLOW,  GLOVER,  AND  THE 
HAMPSTEAD  HOAX— POOR  FRIENDS  AMONG 
GREAT  ACQUAINTANCES. 

THE  profits  resulting  from  The  Good-Natured 
Man  were  beyond  any  that  Goldsmith  had  yet 
derived  from  his  works.  He  netted  about  four 
hundred  pounds  from  the  theatre,  and  one  hun- 
dred pounds  from  his  publisher. 

Five  hundred  pounds  !  and  all  at  one  miracu- 
lous draught  !  It  appeared  to  him  wealth  inex- 
haustible. It  at  once  opened  his  heart  and  hand, 
and  led  him  into  all  kinds  of  extravagance.  The 
first  symptom  was  ten  guineas  sent  toShuterfora 
box  ticket  for  his  benefit,  when  The  Good-Natured 
Man  was  to  be  performed.  The  next  was  an 
entire  change  in  his  domicile.  The  shabby  lodg- 
ings with  Jeffs  the  butler,  in  which  he  had  been 
worried  by  Johnson's  scrutiny,  were  now  ex- 
changed for  chambers  more  becoming  a  man  of 
his  ample  fortune.  The  apartments  consisted  of 
three  rooms  on  the  second  floor  of  No.  2  Brick 
Court,  Middle  Temple,  on  the  right  hand  ascend- 
ing the  staircase,  and  overlooked  the  umbrageous 
Walks  of  the  Temple  garden.  The  lease  he  pur- 
chased for  ^400,  and  then  went  on  to  furnish  his 
rooms  with  mahogany  sofas,  card-tables,  and 
book-cases  ;  with  curtains,  mirrors,  and  Wilton 
carpets.  His  awkward  little  person  was  also  fur- 
nished out  in  a  style  befitting  his  apartment  ;  for, 
in  addition  to  his  suit  of  "  Tyrian  bloom,  satin 
grain,"  we  find  another  charged  about  this  time, 
in  the  books  of  Mr.  Filby,  in  no  less  gorgeous 
terms,  being  "lined  with  silk  and  furnished  with 
gold  buttons."  Thus  lodged  and  thus  arrayed, 
he  invited  the  visits  of  his  most  aristocratic  ac- 
quaintances, and  no  longer  quailed  beneath  the 
courtly  eye  of  Beauclerc.  He  gave  dinners  to 
Johnson,  Reynolds,  Percy,  Bickerstaff,  and  other 
friends  of  note  ;  and  supper  parties  to  young  folks 
of  both  sexes.  These  last  were  preceded  by  round 
games  of  cards,  at  which  there  was  more  laughter 
than  skill,  and  in  which  the  sport  was  to  cheat 
each  other  ;  or  by  romping  games  of  forfeits  and 
blind-man's  buff,  at  which  he  enacted  the  lord  of 
misrule.  Blackstone,  whose  chambers  were  im- 
mediately below,  and  who  was  studiously  occu- 
pied on  his  "Commentaries,"  used  to  complain 
of  the  racket  made  overhead  by  his  revelling 
neighbor. 

Sometimes  Goldsmith  would  make  up  a  rural 
party,  composed  of  four  or  five  of  his  "  jolly 
pigeon"  friends,  to  enjoy  what  he  humorously 
called  a  "shoemaker's  holiday."  These  would 
assemble  at  his  chambers  in  the  morning,  to  par- 
take of  a  plentiful  and  rather  expensive  breakfast  ; 
the  remains  of  which,  with  his  customary  benevo- 
lence, he  generally  gave  to  some  poor  woman  in 
attendance.  The  repast  ended,  the  party  would 
set  out  on  foot,  in  high  spirits,  making  extensive 
rambles  by  foot-paths  and  green  lanes  to  Black- 
heath,  Wandsworth,  Chelsea,  Hampton  Court, 
Highgate,  or  some  other  pleasant  resort,  within  a 
few  miles  of  London.  A  simple  but  gay  and 
heartily  relished  dinner,  at  a  country  inn,  crowned 
the  excursion.  In  the  evening  they  strolled  back 
to  town,  all  the  better  in  health  and  spirits  lor  a 
day  spent  in  rural  and  social  enjoyment.  Occa- 
sionally, when  extravagantly  inclined,  they  ad- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


227 


journed  from  dinner  to  drink  tea  at  the  White 
Conduit  House  ;  and,  now  and  then,  concluded 
their  festive  day  by  supping-  at  the  Grecian  or 
Temple  Exchange  Coffee  Houses,  or  at  the  Globe 
Tavern,  in  Fleet  Street.  The  whole  expenses  of 
the  day  never  exceeded  a  crown,  and  were  oftener 
trom  three  and  sixpence  to  four  shillings  ;  for  the 
best  part  of  their  entertainment,  sweet  air  and 
rural  scenes,  excellent  exercise  and  joyous  con- 
versation, cost  nothing. 

One  of  Goldsmith's  humble  companions,  on 
these  excursions,  was  his  occasional  amanuensis, 
Peter  Barlow,  whose  quaint  peculiarities  afforded 
much  amusement  to  the  company.  Peter  was 
poor  but  punctilious,  squaring  his  expenses  ac- 
cording to  his  means.  He  always  wore  the  same 
garb  ;  fixed  his  regular  expenditure  for  dinner  at 
a  trifling  sum,  which,  it  left  to  himself,  he  never 
exceeded,  but  which  he  always  insisted  on  paying. 
His  oddities  always  made  him  a  welcome  com- 
panion on  the  "  shoemaker's  holidays."  The 
dinner,  on  these  occasions  generally  exceeded 
considerably  his  tariff  ;  he  put  down,  however,  no 
more  than  his  regular  sum,  and  Goldsmith  made 
up  the  difference. 

Another  of  these  hangers-on,  for  whom,  on 
such  occasions,  he  was  content  to  "  pay  the  shot," 
was  his  countryman,  Glover,  of  whom  mention 
has  already  been  made,  as  one  of  the  wags  and 
sponges  of  the  Globe  and  Devil  taverns,  and  a 
prime  mimic  at  the  Wednesday  Club. 

This  vagabond  genius  has  bequeathed  us  a 
whimsical  story  of  one  of  his  practical  jokes  upon 
Goldsmith,  in  the  course  of  a  rural  excursion  in 
the  vicinity  of  London.  They  had  dined  at  an  inn 
on  Hampstead  Heights,  and  were  descending  the 
hill,  when  in  passing  a  cottage,  they  saw  through 
the  open  window  a  party  at  tea.  Goldsmith,  who 
was  fatigued,  cast  a  wistful  glance  at  the  cheerful 
tea-table.  "  How  I  should  like  to  be  of  that 
party,"  exclaimed  he.  "  Nothing  more  easy," 
replied  Glover,  "  allow  me  to  introduce  you."  So 
saying,  he  entered  the  house  with  an  air  of  the 
most  perfect  familiarity,  though  an  utter  stranger, 
and  was  followed  by  the  unsuspecting  Goldsmith, 
who  supposed,  of  course,  that  he  was  a  friend  of 
the  family.  The  owner  of  the  house  rose  on  the 
entrance  of  the  strangers.  The  undaunted  Glover 
shook  hands  with  him  in  the  most  cordial  manner 
possible,  fixed  his  eye  on  one  of  the  company  who 
had  a  peculiarly  good-natured  physiognomy,  mut- 
tered something  like  a  recognition,  and  forthwith 
launched  into  an  amusing  story,  invented  at  the 
moment,  of  something  which  he  pretended  had 
occurred  upon  the  road.  The  host  supposed  the 
new-comers  were  friends  of  his  guests  ;  the  guests 
that  they  were  friends  of  the  host.  Glover  did 
not  give  them  time  to  find  out  the  truth.  He  fol- 
lowed one  droll  story  with  another  ;  brought  his 
powers  ot  mimicry  into  play,  and  kept  the  com- 
pany in  a  roar.  Tea  was  offered  and  accepted; 
an  hour  went  off  in  the  most  sociable  manner  im- 
aginable, at  the  end  of  which  Glover  bowed  him- 
self and  his  companion  out  of  the  house  with 
many  facetious  last  words,  leaving  the  host  and 
his  company  to  compare  notes,  and  to  find  out 
what  an  impudent  intrusion  they  had  experienced. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  dismay  and  vexation 
of  Goldsmith  when  triumphantly  told  by  Glover 
that  it  was  all  a  hoax,  and  that  he  did  not  know  a 
single  soul  in  the  house.  His  first  impulse  was  to 
return  instantly  and  vindicate  himself  from  all 
participation  in  the  jest  ;  but  a  few  words  from 
his  free  and  easy  companion  dissuaded  him. 
"  Doctor,"  said  he,  coolly,  "  we  are  unknown  ; 


you  quite  as  much  as  I  ;  if  you  return  and  tell  the 
story,  it  will  be  in  the  newspapers  to-morrow ; 
nay,  upon  recollection,  I  remember  in  one  of 
their  offices  the  face  of  that  squinting  fellow  \vho 
sat  in  the  corner  as  if  he  was  treasuring  up  r,iy 
stories  for  future  use,  and  we  shall  be  sure  of 
being  exposed  ;  let  us  therefore  keep  our  own 
counsel." 

This  story  was  frequently  afterward  told  by 
Glover,  with  rich  dramatic  effect,  repeating  and 
exaggerating  the  conversation,  and  mimicking  in 
ludicrous  style,  the  embarrassment,  surprise,  and 
subsequent  indignation  of  Goldsmith. 

It  is  a  trite  saying  that  a  wheel  cannot  run  in 
two  ruts  ;  nor  a  man  keep  two  opposite  sets  of 
intimates.  Goldsmith  sometimes  found  his  old 
friends  of  the  "jolly  pigeon"  order  turning  up 
rather  awkwardly  when  he  was  in  company  with 
his  new  aristocratic  acquaintances.  He  gave  a 
whimsical  account  of  the  sudden  apparition  of 
one  of  them  at  his  gay  apartments  in  the  Temple, 
who  may  have  been  a  welcome  visitor  at  his 
squalid  quarters  in  Green  Arbor  Court.  "  How 
do  you  think  he  served  me  ?"  said  he  to  a  friend. 
"Why,  sir,  after  staying  away  two  years,  he  came 
one  evening  into  my  chambers,  half  drunk,  as  I 
was  taking  a  glass  of  wine  with  Topham  Beauclerc 
and  General  Oglethorpe  ;  and  sitting  himself 
down,  with  most  intolerable  assurance  inquired 
after  my  health  and  literary  pursuits,  as  if  he  were 
upon  the  most  friendly  footing.  I  was  at  first  so 
much  ashamed  of  ever  having  known  such  a  fel- 
low, that  I  stifled  my  resentment,  and  drew  him 
into  a  conversation  on  such  topics  as  I  knew  he 
could  talk  upon  ;  in  which,  to  do  him  justice,  he 
acquitted  himself  very  reputably  ;  when  all  of  a 
sudden,  as  if  recollecting  something,  he  pulled 
two  papers  out  of  his  pocket,  which  he  presented 
to  me  with  great  ceremony,  saying,  "  Here,  my 
dear  friend,  is  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  tea,  and  a 
half  pound  of  sugar,  I  have  brought  you  ;  for 
though  it  is  not  in  my  power  at  present  to  pay  you 
the  two  guineas  you  so  generously  lent  me,  you, 
nor  any  man  else,  shall  ever  have  it  to  say  that  I 
want'gratitude.'  This,"  added  Goldsmith,  "  was 
too  much.  I  could  no  longer  keep  in  my  feelings, 
but  desired  him  to  turn  out  of  my  chambers 
directly  ;  which  he  very  coolly  did,  taking  up  his 
tea  and  sugar  ;  and  I  never  saw  him  afterward." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

REDUCED   AGAIN  TO  BOOK-BUILDING — RURAL  RE- 
TREAT AT  SHOEMAKER'S  PARADISE — DEATH  OF 

HENRY  GOLDSMITH — TRIBUTES  TO  HIS  MEMORY 
IN    "THE   DESERTED   VILLAGE." 

THE  heedless  expenses  of  Goldsmith,  as  may 
easily  be  supposed,  soon  brought  him  to  the  end 
of  his  "prize  money,"  but  when  his  purse  gave 
out  he  drew  upon  futurity,  obtaining  advances 
from  his  booksellers  and  loans  from  his  friends  in 
the  confident  hope  of  soon  turning  up  another 
trump.  The  debts  which  he  thus  thoughtlessly 
incurred  in  consequence  of  a  transient  gleam  of 
prosperity  embarrassed  him  for  the  rest  of  his  life  ; 
so  that  the  success  of  the  Good-Natured  Man  may 
be  said  to  have  been  ruinous  to  him. 

He  was  soon  obliged  to  resume  his  old  craft  of 
book-building,  and  set  about  his  History  of  Rome, 
undertaken  for  Davies. 

It  was  his  custom,  as  we  have  shown,  during 


228 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


the  summer  time,  when  pressed  by  a  multiplicity 
of  literary  jobs,  or  urged  to  the  accomplishment 
of  some  particular  task,  to  take  country  lodgings 
a  few  miles  irom  town,  generally  on  the  Harrow 
or  Edgeware  roads,  and  bury  himself  there  for 
Weeks  and  months  together.  Sometimes  he 
Would  remain  closely  occupied  in  his  room,  at 
Other  times  he  would  stroll  out  along  the  lanes 
and  hedge-rows,  and  taking  out  paper  and  pen- 
cil, note  down  thoughts  to  be  expanded  and  con- 
nected at  home.  His  summer  retreat  for  the 
present  year,  1768,  was  a  little  cottage  with  a 
garden,  pleasantly  situated  about  eight  miles  from 
town  on  the  Edgeware  road.  He  took  it  in  con- 
junction with  a  Mr.  Edmund  Botts,  a  barrister 
and  man  of  letters,  his  neighbor  in  theTemple,  hav- 
ing rooms  immediately  opposite  him  on  the  same 
floor.  They  had  become  cordial  intimates,  and 
Botts  was  one  ot  those  with  whom  Goldsmith  now 
and  then  took  the  friendly  but  pernicious  liberty 
of  borrowing. 

The  cottage  which  they  had  hired  belonged  to  a 
rich  shoemaker  of  Piccadilly,  who  had  embellished 
his  little  domain  of  half  an  acre  with  statues  and 
jets,  and  all  the  decorations  of  landscape  garden- 
ing ;  in  consequence  of  which  Goldsmith  gave  it  the 
name  of  The  Shoemaker's  Paradise.  As  his  fellow- 
occupant,  Mr.  Botts,  drove  a  gig,  he  sometimes, 
in  an  interval  of  literary  labor,  accompanied  him 
to  town,  partook  of  a  social  dinner  there,  and  re- 
turned with  him  in  the  evening.  On  one  occa- 
sion, when  they  had  probably  lingered  too  long 
at  the  table,  they  came  near  breaking  their  necks 
on  their  way  homeward  by  driving  against  a  post 
on  the  sidewalk,  while  Botts  was  proving  by  the 
force  of  legal  eloquence  that  they  were  in  the  very 
middle  of  the  broad  Edgeware  road. 

In  the  course  of  this  summer  Goldsmith's  career 
of  gayety  was'  suddenly  brought  to  a  pause  by 
intelligence  ot  the  death  of  his  brother  Henry, 
then  but  forty-five  years  of  age.  He  had  led  a 
quiet  and  blameless  life  amid  the  scenes  of  his 
youth,  fulfilling  the  duties  ot  village  pastor  with 
unaffected  piety  ;  conducting  the  school  at  Lissoy 
with  a  degree  of  industry  and  ability  that  gave  it 
celebrity,  and  acquitting  himself  in  all  the  duties 
of  life  with  undeviating  rectitude  and  the  mildest 
benevolence.  How  truly  Goldsmith  loved  and 
venerated  him  is  evident  in  all  his  letters  and 
throughout  his  works  ;  in  which  his  brother  con- 
tinually forms  his  model  for  an  exemplification  of 
all  the  most  endearing  of  the  Christian  virtues  ; 
yet  his  affection  at  his  death  was  embittered  by 
the  fear  that  he  died  with  some  doubt  upon  his 
mind  of  the  warmth  of  his  affection.  Goldsmith 
had  been  urged  by  his  friends  in  Ireland,  since 
his  elevation  in  the  world,-  to  use  his  influence 
with  the  great,  which  they  supposed  to  be  all 
powerful,  in  favor  of  Henry,  to  obtain  for  him 
church  preferment.  He  did  exert  himself  as  far 
as  his  diffident  nature  would  permit,  but  without 
success  ;  we  have  seen  that,  in  the  case  of  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  when,  as  Lord  Lieuten- 
ant of  Ireland,  that  nobleman  proffered  him  his 
patronage,  he  asked  nothing  for  himself,  but  only 
spoke  on  behalf  of  his  brother.  Still  some  of  his 
friends,  ignorant  of  what  he  had  done  and  of  how 
little  he  was  able  to  do,  accused  him  of  negli- 
gence. It  is  not  likely,  however,  that  his  amia- 
ble and  estimable  brother  joined  in  the  accusa- 
tion. 

To  the  tender  and  melancholy  recollections  of 
his  early  days  awakened  by  the  death  of  this  loved 
companion  of  his  childhood,  we  may  attribute 
some  of  the  most  heartfelt  passages  in  his  "De- 


serted Village."  Much  of  that  poem,  we  are  told, 
was  composed  this  summer,  in  the  course  of  soli- 
tary strolls  about  the  green  lanes  and  beautifully 
rural  scenes  of  the  neighborhood  ;  and  thus 
much  of  the  softness  and  sweetness  of  English 
landscape  became  blended  with  the  ruder  features 
of  Lissoy.  It  was  in  these  lonely  and  subdued 
moments,  when  tender  regret  was  half  mingled 
with  self-upbraiding,  that  he  poured  forth  that 
homage  of  the  heart,  rendered  as  it  were  at  the 
grave  of  his  brother.  The  picture  of  the  village 
pastor  in  this  poem,  which  we  have  a.ready  hint- 
ed, was  taken  in  part  from  the  character  of  his 
father,  embodied  likewise  the  recollections  of  his 
brother  Henry  ;  for  the  natures  ol  the  father  and 
son  seem  to  have  been  identical.  In  the  follow- 
ing lines,  however,  Goldsmith  evidently  contrasted 
the  quiet,  settled  life  of  his  brother,  passed  at  home 
in  the  benevolent  exercise  of  the  Christian  duties, 
with  his  own  restless,  vagrant  career  ; 

"  Remote  from  towns  he  ran  his  godly  race, 
Nor  e'er  had  changed,   nor  wished  to  change  his 
place." 

To  us  the  whole  character  seems  traced  as  it  were 
in  an  expiatory  spirit  ;  as  if,  conscious  of  his  own 
wandering  restlessness,  he  sought  to  humble  him- 
self at  the  shrine  of  excellence  which  he  had  not 
been  able  to  practice  : 

"  At  church,  with  meek  and  unaffected  grace, 
His  looks  adorn 'd  the  venerable  place  ; 
Truth  from  his  lips  prevail'd  with  double  sway, 
And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remain 'd  to  pray. 
The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man, 
With  steady  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 
Even  children  follow'd,  with  endearing  wile. 
And  pluck'd  his  gown,   to  share  the  good  man's 

smile  : 

His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  express'd, 
Their  welfare  pleas'dhim,  and  their  cares  distress'd  ; 
To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs  were  given, 
But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 


And  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 
To  tempt  its  new-fledged  offspring  to  the  skies, 
He  tried  each  art,  reprov'd  each  dull  delay, 
Allur'd  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way, " 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

DINNER  AT  BICKERSTAFF'S— HIFFERNAN  AND  HIS 
IMPECUNIOSITY — KENRICK'S  EPIGRAM — JOHN- 
SON'S CONSOLATION — GOLDSMITH'S  TOILET— 
THE  BLOOM-COLORED  COAT — NEW  ACQUAINT- 
ANCES—THE HORNECKS — A  TOUCH  OF  POETRY 
AND  PASSION — THE  JESSAMY  BRIDE. 

IN  October  Goldsmith  returned  to  town  and  re- 
sumed his  usual  haunts.  We  hear  of  him  at  a 
dinner  given  by  his  countryman,  Isaac  Bicker- 
staff,  author  of  "Love  in  a  Village,"  "Lionel 
and  Clarissa,"  and  other  successful  dramatic 
pieces.  The  dinner  was  to  be  followed  by  the 
reading  by  Bickerstaff  of  a  new  play.  Among 
the  guests  was  one  Paul  Hiffernan,  likewise  an 
Irishman  ;  somewhat  idle  and  intemperate  ;  who 
lived  nobody  knew  how  nor  where,  sponging 
wherever  he  had  a  chance,  and  often  of  course 
upon  Goldsmith,  who  was  ever  the  vagabond's 
friend,  or  rather  victim.  Hiffernan  was  some- 
thing of  a  physician,  and  elevated  the  emptiness 
of  his  purse  into  the  dignity  of  a  disease,  which 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


229 


he  termed  impecuniosity,  and  against  which  he 
claimed  a  right  to  call  for  relief  from  the  healthier 
purses  of  his  friends.  He  was  a  scribbler  for  the 
newspapers,  and  latterly  a  dramatic  critic,  which 
had  probably  gained  him  an  invitation  to  the  din- 
ner and  reading.  The  wine  and  wassail,  how- 
ever, befogged  his  senses.  Scarce  had  the  au- 
thor got  into  the  second  act  of  his  play,  when 
Hiffernan  began  to  nod,  and  at  length  snored  out- 
right. Bickerstaff  was  embarrassed,  but  contin- 
ued to  read  in  a  more  elevated  tone.  The  louder 
he  read,  the  louder  Hiffernan  snored  ;  until  the 
author  came  to  a  pause.  "  Never  mind  the 
brute,  Bick,  but  go  on,"  cried  Goldsmith.  "  He 
would  have  served  Homer  just  so  it  he  were  here 
and  reading  his  own  works." 

Kenrick,  Goldsmith's  old  enemy,  travestied  this 
anecdote  in  the  following  lines,  pretending  that 
the  poet  had  compared  his  countryman  Bicker- 
staff  to  Homer. 

"  What  are  your  Bretons,  Romans.  Grecians, 
Compared  with  thorough-bred  Milesians  ! 
Step  into  Griffin's  shop,  he'll  tell  ye 
Of  Goldsmith,  Bickerstaff,  and  Kelly.  .  . 
And,  take  one  Irish  evidence  for  t'other, 
Ev'n  Homer's  self  is  but  their  foster  brother." 

Johnson  was  a  rough  consoler  to  a  man  when 
wincing  under  an  attack  of  this  kind.  "  Never 
mind,  sir,"  said  he  to  Goldsmith,  when  he  saw  that 
he  felt  the  sting.  "  A  man  whose  business  it  is 
to  be  talked  of  is  much  helped  by  being  attacked. 
Fame,  sir,  is  a  shuttlecock  ;  if  it  be  struck  only 
at  one  end  of  the  room,  it  will  soon  fall  to  the 
ground  ;  to  keep  it  up,  it  must  be  struck  at  both 
ends." 

Bickerstaff,  at  the  time  of  which  we  are  speak- 
ing was  in  high  vogue,  the  associate  of  the  first 
wits  of  the  day  ;  a  few  years  afterward  he  was 
obliged  to  fly  the  country  to  escape  the  punishment 
of  an  infamous  crime.  Johnson  expressed  great 
astonishment  at  hearing  the  offence  for  which  he 
had  fled.  "  Why,  sir,"  said  Thrale  ;  "he  had 
long  been  a  suspected  man."  Perhaps  there  was 
a  knowing  look  on  the  part  of  the  eminent  brewer, 
which  provoked  a  somewhat  contemptuous  reply. 
"By  those  who  look  close  to  the  ground,"  said 
Johnson,  "  dirt  will  sometimes  be  seen  ;  I  hope 
I  see  things  from  a  greater  distance." 

We  have  already  noticed  the  improvement,  or 
rather  the  increased  expense,  of  Goldsmith's  ward- 
robe since  his  elevation  into  polite  society.  "  He 
was  fond,"  says  one  of  his  contemporaries,  "  of  ex- 
hibiting his  muscular  little  person  in  the  gayest 
apparel  of  the  day,  to  which  was  added  a  bag- 
wig  and  sword."  Thus  arrayed,  he  used  to 
figure  about  in  the  sunshine  in  the  Temple  Gar- 
dens, much  to  his  own  satisfaction,  but  to  the 
amusement  of  his  acquaintances. 

Boswell,  in  his  memoirs,  has  rendered  one  of 
his  suits  forever  famous.  That  worthy,  on  the 
i6th  of  October  in  this  same  year,  gave  a  dinner 
to  Johnson.  Goldsmith,  Reynolds,  Garrick,  Mur- 
phy, Bickerstaff,  and  Davies.  Goldsmith  was 
generally  apt  to  bustle  in  at  the  last  moment, 
when  the  guests  were  taking  their  seats  at  table, 
but  on  this  occasion  he  was  unusually  early. 
While  waiting  for  some  lingerers  to  arrive,  "  he 
strutted  about,"  says  Boswell,  "  bragging  of  his 
dress,  and  I  believe,  was  seriously  vain  of  it,  for 
his  mind  was  undoubtedly  prone  to  such  impres- 
sions. '  Come,  come,'  said  Garrick,  '  talk  no  more 
of  that.  You  are  perhaps  the  worst — eh,  eh  ? ' 
Goldsmith  was  eagerly  attempting  to  interrupt 
him,  when  Garrick  went  on,  laughing  ironically, 


'  Nay,  you  will  always  look  like  a  gentleman  ;  but 
I  am  talking  of  your  being  well  or  ill  dressed.' 
'  Well,  let  me  tell  you,'  said  Goldsmith,  '  when 
the  tailor  brought  home  my  bloom-colored  coat, 
he  said,  '  Sir,  1  have  a  favor  to  beg  of  you  ;  when 
anybody  asks  you  who  made  your  clothes,  be 
pleased  to  mention  John  Filby,  at  the  Harrow,  in. 
Water  Lane.'  'Why,  sir,'  cried  Johnson,  'that 
was  because  he  knew  the  strange  color  would  at- 
tract crowds  to  gaze  at  it,  and  thus  they  might 
hear  of  him,  and  see  how  well  he  could  make  a 
coat  of  so  absurd  a  color.'  ' 

But  though  Goldsmith  might  permit  this  rail- 
lery on  the  part  of  his  friends,  he  was  quick  to  re- 
sent any  personalities  of  the  kind  from  strangers. 
As  he  was  one  day  walking  the  Strand  in  grand 
array  with  bag-wig  and  sword,  he  excited  the 
merriment  of  two  coxcombs,  one  of  whom  called 
to  the  other  to  "  look  at  that  fly  with  a  long  pin 
stuck  through  it."  Stung  to  the  quick,  Goldsmith's 
first  retort  was  to  caution  the  passers-by  to  be  on 
their  guard  against  "  that  brace  of  disguised  pick- 
pockets"— his  next  was  to  step  into  the  middle  of 
the  street,  where  there  was  room  for  action,  half 
draw  his  sword,  and  beckon  the  joker,  who  was 
armed  in  like  manner,  to  follow  him.  This  was 
literally  a  war  of  wit  which  the  other  had  not  an- 
ticipated. He  had  no  inclination  to  push  the  joke 
to  such  an  extreme,  but  abandoning  the  ground, 
sneaked  off  with  his  brother  wag  amid  the  hoot- 
ings  of  the  spectators. 

This  proneness  to  finery  in  dress,  however, 
which  Boswell  and  others  of  Goldsmith's  contem- 
poraries, who  did  not  understand  the  secret  plies 
of  his  character,  attributed  to  vanity,  arose,  we 
are  convinced,  from  a  widely  different  motive.  It 
was  from  a  painful  idea  of  his  own  personal  de- 
fects,  which  had  been  cruelly  stamped  upon  his 
mind  in  his  boyhood  by  the  sneers  and  jeers  of 
his  playmates,  and  had  been  ground  deeper  into 
it  by  rude  speeches  made  to  him  in  every  step  of 
his  struggling  career,  until  it  had  become  a  con- 
stant cause  of  awkwardness  and  embarrassment. 
This  he  had  experienced  the  more  sensibly  since 
his  reputation  had  elevated  him  into  polite  soci- 
ety ;  and  he  was  constantly  endeavoring  by  the 
aid  of  dress  to  acquire  that  personal  acceptability, 
if  we  may  use  the  phrase,  which  nature  had  de- 
nied him.  If  ever  he  betrayed  a  little  self-com- 
placency on  first  turning  out  in  a  new  suit,  it  may 
perhaps  have  been  because  he  felt  as  if  he  had 
achieved  a  triumph  over  his  ugliness. 

There  were  circumstances  too  about  the  time  of 
which  we  are  treating  which  may  have  rendered 
Goldsmith  more  than  usually  attentive  to  his  per- 
sonal appearance.  He  had  recently  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  a  most  agreeable  family  from  Dev- 
onshire, which  he  met  at  the  house  of  his  friend, 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  It  consisted  of  Mrs.  Hor- 
neck,  widow  of  Captain  Kane  Horneck  ;  two 
daughters,  seventeen  and  nineteen  years  of  age, 
and  an  only  son,  Charles,  the  Captain  in  Lace, 
as  his  sisters  playfully  and  somewhat  proudly 
called  him,  he  having  lately  entered  the  Guards. 
The  daughters  are  described  as  uncommonly 
beautiful,  intelligent,  sprightly,  and  agreeable. 
Catharine,  the  eldest,  went  among  her  friends  by 
the  name  of  Little  Comedy,  indicative,  very  prob- 
ably, of  her  disposition.  She  was  engaged  to 
William  Henry  Bunbury.  second  son  of  a  Suffolk 
baronet.  The  hand  and  heart  of  her  sister  Mary 
were  yet  unengaged,  although  she  bore  the  by- 
name among  her  friends  of  the  Jessamy  Bride. 
This  family  was  prepared,  by  their  intimacy  with 
Reynolds  and  his  sister,  to  appregiate  the  merits 


230 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


ot  Goldsmith.  The  poet  had  always  been  a  cho- 
sen  friend  of  the  eminent  painter,  and  Miss  Rey- 
nolds, as  we  have  shown,  ever  since  she  had  heard 
his  poem  of  "  The  Traveller"  read  aloud,  had 
ceased  to  consider  him  ugly.  The  Hornecks  were 
equally  capable  of  forgetting  his  person  in  ad- 
miring his  works.  On  becoming  acquainted  with 
him,  too,  they  were  delighted  with  his  guileless 
simplicity  ;  his  buoyant  good-nature  and  his  in- 
nate benevolence,  and  an  enduring  intimacy  soon 
sprang  up  between  them.  For  once  poor  Gold- 
smith had  met  with  polite  society  with  which  he 
was  perfectly  at  home,  and  by  which  he  was  fully 
appreciated  ;  for  once  he  had  met  with  lovely 
women,  to  whom  his  ugly  features  were  not  re- 
pulsive. A  proof  of  the  easy  and  playful  terms 
in  which  he  was  with  them  remains  in  a  whimsi- 
cal epistle  in  verse,  of  which  the  following  was 
the  occasion.  A  dinner  was  to  be  given  to  their 
family  by  a  Dr.  Baker,  a  friend  of  their  mother's, 
at  which  Reynolds  and  Angelica  Kauffman  were 
to  be  present.  The  young  ladies  were  eager  to 
have  Goldsmith  of  the  party,  and  their  intimacy 
with  Dr.  Baker  allowing  them  to  take  the  liberty, 
they  wrote  a  joint  invitation  to  the  poet  at  the  last 
moment.  It  came  too  late,  and  drew  from  him 
the  following  reply  ;  on  the  top  of  which  was 
scrawled,  "  This  is  a  poem  !  This  is  a  copy  of 
verses  !" 

Your  mandate  I  got. 

You  may  all  go  to  pot  ; 

Had  your  senses  been  right. 

You'd  have  sent  before  night — 

So  tell  Horneck  and  Nesbitt, 

And  Baker  and  his  bit, 

And  Kauffman  beside, 

And  the  Jessamy  Bride, 

With  the  rest  of  the  crew, 

The  Reynoldses  too, 

Little  Comedy' s  face, 

And  the  Captain  in  Lace— 

Tel!  each  other  to  rue 

Your  Devonshire  crew, 

For  sending  so  late 

To  one  of  my  state. 

But  'tis  Reynolds's  way 

From  wisdom  to  stray, 

And  Angelica's  whim 

To  befrolic  like  him  ; 

But   alas  !  your  good  worships,  how  could  they  toe 

wiser, 
When  both  have  been  spoil'd  in  to-day's  Advertiser?  * 

It  has  been  intimated  that  the  intimacy  of  poor 
Goldsmith  with  the  Miss  Hornecks,  which  began 
in  so  sprightly  a  vein,  gradually  assumed  some- 
thing of  a  more  tender  nature,  and  that  he  was 
not  insensible  to  the  fascinations  of  the  younger 
sister.  This  may  account  for  some  of  the  phe- 
nomena which  about  this  time  appeared  in  his 
wardrobe  and  toilet.  During  the  first  year  of  his 
acquaintance  with  these  lovely  girls,  the  tell-tale 
book  of  his  tailor,  Mr.  William  Filby,  displays 
entries  of  four  or  five  full  suits,  beside  separate 
articles  of  dress.  Among  the  items  we  find  a 
green  half-trimmed  frock  and  breeches,  lined  with 
silk  ;  a  queen's  blue  dress  suit  ;  a  half  dress  suit 
of  ratteen,  lined  with  satin  ;  a  pair  of  silk  stocking 

*  The  following  lines  had  appeared  in  that  day's 
Advertiser,  on  the  portrait  cf  Sir  Joshua  bv  Angelica 
Kauffman  : 

While  fair  Angelica,  with  matchless  grace, 
Paints  Conway's  burly  form  and  Stanhope's  face  ; 
Our  hearts  to  beauty  willing  homage  pay, 
We  praise,  admire,  and  gaze  our  souls  away. 


breeches,  and  another  pair  of  a  bloom  color. 
Alas  !  poor  Goldsmith  !  how  much  of  this  silken 
finery  was  dictated,  not  by  vanity,  but  humble 
consciousness  of  thy  defects  ;  how  much  of  it  was 
to  atone  for  the  uncouthness  of  thy  person,  and  to 
win  favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  Jessamy  Bride  ! 

But  when  the  likeness  she  hath  done  for  thee, 
O  Reynolds  !  with  astonishment  we  see, 
Forced  to  submit,  with  all  our  pride  we  own, 
Such  strength,  such  harmony  excelled  by  none, 
And  thou  art  rivalled  by  thyself  alone. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

GOLDSMITH  IN  THE  TEMPLE— JUDGE  DAY  AND 
GRATTAN — LABOR  AND  DISSIPATION—  PUBLICA- 
TION OF  THE  ROMAN  HISTORY — OPINIONS  OF  IT 
— HISTORY  OF  ANIMATED  NATURE— TEMPLE 
ROOKERY— ANECDOTES  OF  A  SPIDER. 

IN  the  winter  of  1768-69  Goldsmith  occupied 
himself  at  his  quarters  in  the  Temple,  slowly 
"  building  up"  his  Roman  History.  We  have 
pleasant  views  of  him  in  this  learned  and  halt- 
cloistered  retreat  of  wit  and  lawyers  and  legal 
students,  in  the  reminiscences  of  Judge  Day  oi  the 
Irish  Bench,  who  in  his  advanced  age  delighted 
to  recall  the  days  of  his  youth,  when  he  was  a 
templar,  and  to  speak  of  the  kindness  with  which 
he  and  his  fellow-student,  Grattan,  were  treated 
by  the  poet.  "  I  was  just  arrived  from  college," 
said  he,  "  full  freighted  with  academic  gleanings, 
and  our  author  did  not  disdain  to  receive  from 
me  some  opinions  and  hints  toward  his  Greek  and 
Roman  histories.  Being  then  a  young  man,  I  felt 
much  flattered  by  the  notice  of  so  celebrated  a 
person.  He  took  great  delight  in  the  conversa- 
tion ot  Grattan,  whose  brilliancy  in  the  morning 
of  life  furnished  full  earnest  ot  the  unrivalled 
splendor  which  awaited  his  meridian  ;  and  find- 
ing us  dwelling  together  in  Essex  Court,  near 
himself,  where  he  frequently  visited  my  immortal 
friend,  his  warm  heart  became  naturally  prepos- 
sessed toward  the  associate  of  one  whom  he  so 
much  admired." 

The  judge  goes  on,  in  his  reminiscences,  to 
give  a  picture  of  Goldsmith's  social  habits,  simi- 
lar in  style  to  those  already  furnished.  He  fre- 
quented much  the  Grecian  Coffee-House,  then  the 
lavorite  resort  of  the  Irish  and  Lancashire  Tem- 
plars. He  delighted  in  collecting  his  friends 
around  him  at  evening  parties  at  his  chambers, 
where  he  entertained  them  with  a  cordial  and  un- 
ostentatious hospitality.  "  Occasionally,"  adds 
the  judge,  "  he  amused  them  with  his  flute,  or 
with  whist,  neither  of  which  he  played  well,  par- 
ticularly the  latter,  but,  on  losing  his  money,  he 
never  lost  his  temper.  In  a  run  of  bad  luck  and 
worse  play,  he  would  fling  his  cards  upon  the 
floor  and  exclaim,  '  Bycfore  George,  I  ought  for- 
ever to  renounce  thee,  fickle,  faithless  Fortune."  ' 

The  judge  was  aware  at  the  time  that  all  the 
learned  labor  of  poor  Goldsmith  upon  his  Roman 
History  was  mere  hack  work  to  recruit  his  ex- 
hausted finances.  "  His  purse  replenished," 
adds  he,  "  by  labors  of  this  kind,  the  season  of 
relaxation  and  pleasure  took  its  turn,  in  attend- 
ing the  theatres,  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  and  other 
scenes  of  gayety  and  amusement.  Whenever  his 
funds  were  dissipated — and  they  fled  more  rap- 
idly from  being  the  dupe  of  many  artful  persons, 
male  and  female,  who  practised  upon  his  benevo- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


231 


lence — tie  returned  to  his  literary  labors,  and  shut 
himself  up  from  society  to  provide  fresh  matter 
for  his  bookseller,  and  fresh  supplies  for  himself." 

How  completely  had  the  young  student  discerned 
the  characteristics  of  poor,  genial,  generous, 
drudging,  holiday-loving  Goldsmith  ;  toiling 
that  he  might  play  ;  earning  his  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brains,  and  then  throwing  it  out  of 
the  window. 

The  Roman  History  was  published  in  the  mid- 
dle of  May,  in  two  volumes  of  five  hundred  pages 
each.  It  was  brought  out  without  parade  or  pre- 
tension, and  was  announced  as  for  the  use  of 
schools  and  colleges  ;  but,  though  a  work  written 
for  bread,  not  fame,  such  is  its  ease,  perspicuity, 
good  sense,  and  the  delightful  simplicity  of  its 
style,  that  it  was  well  received  by  the  critics,  com- 
manded a  prompt  and  extensive  sale,  and  has 
ever  since  remained  in  the  hands  of  young  and 
old. 

Johnson,  who,  as  we  have  before  remarked, 
rarely  praised  or  dispraised  things  by  halves, 
broke  forth  in  a  warm  eulogy  of  the  author  and 
the  work,  in  a  conversation  with  Boswell,  to  the 
great  astonishment  of  the  latter.  "  Whether  we 
take  Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "  as  a  poet,  as  a  comic 
writer,  or  as  an  historian,  he  stands  in  the  first 
class."  Boswell. — "  An  historian  !  My  dear 
sir,  you  surely  will  not  rank  his  compilation  of 
the  Roman  History  with  the  works  of  other  his- 
torians of  this  age."  Johnson. — "  Why,  who  are 
before  him  ?"  Boswell. — "  Hume — Robertson — 
Lord  Lyttleton."  Johnson  (his  antipathy  against 
the  Scotch  beginning  to  rise). — "  I  have  not  read 
Hume  ;  but  doubtless  Goldsmith's  History  is  bet- 
ter than  the  verbiage  of  Robertson,  or  the  fop- 
pery of  Dalrymple."  Boswell. — "Will  you  not 
admit  the  superiority  o{  Robertson,  in  whose  his- 
tory we  find  such  penetration,  such  painting?" 
Johnson. — "  Sir,  you  must  consider  how  that  pen- 
etration and  that  painting  are  employed.  It  is 
not  history,  it  is  imagination.  He  who  describes 
what  he  never  saw,  draws  from  fancy.  Robert- 
son paints  minds  as  Sir  Joshua  paints  faces,  in  a 
history-piece  ;  he  imagines  an  heroic  counte- 
nance. You  must  look  upon  Robertson's  work 
as  romance,  and  try  it  by  that  standard.  History 
it  is  not.  Besides,  sir,  it  is  the  great  excellence 
of  a  writer  to  put  into  his  book  as  much  as  his 
book  will  hold.  Goldsmith  has  done  this  in  his 
history.  Now  Robertson  might  have  put  twice 
as  much  in  his  book.  Robertson  is  like  a  man 
who  has  packed  gold  in  wool  ;  the  wool  takes  up 
more  room  than  the  gold.  No,  sir,  I  always 
thought  Robertson  would  be  crushed  with  his  own 
weight — would  be  buried  under  his  own  orna- 
ments. Goldsmith  tells  you  shortly  all  you  want 
to  know  ;  Robertson  detains  you  a  great  deal  too 
long.  No  man  will  read  Robertson's  cumbrous 
detail  a  second  time  ;  but  Goldsmith's  plain  nar- 
rative will  please  again  and  again.  I  would  say 
to  Robertson  what  an  old  tutor  of  a  college  said 
to  one  of  his  pupils,  '  Read  over  your  composi- 
tions, and  whenever  you  meet  with  a  passage 
which  you  think  is  particularly  fine,  strike  it  out  ! ' 
—Goldsmith's  abridgment  is  better  than  that  of 
Lucius  Florus  or  Eutropius  ;  and  I  will  venture 
to  say,  that  if  you  compare  him  with  Vertot  in  the 
same  places  of  the  Roman  History,  you  will  find 
that  he  excels  Vertot.  Sir,  he  has  the  art  of  com- 
piling, and  of  saying  everything  he  has  to  say  in 
a  pleasing  manner.  He  is  now  writing  a  Nat- 
ural History,  and  will  make  it  as  entertaining  as 
a  Persian  tale." 

The  Natural  History  to  which  Johnson  alluded 


was  the  "  History  of  Animated  Nature,"  which 
Goldsmith  commenced  in  1769,  under  an  engage- 
ment with  Griffin,  the  bookseller,  to  complete  it 
as  soon  as  possible  in  eight  volumes,  each  con- 
taining upward  of  four  hundred  pages,  in  pica  ;  a 
hundred  guineas  to  be  paid  to  the  author  on  the 
delivery  of  each  volume  in  manuscript. 

He  was  induced  to  engage  in  this  work  by  the 
urgent  solicitations  of  the  booksellers,  who  had 
been  struck  by  the  sterling  merits  and  captivating 
style  of  an  introduction  which  he  wrote  to  Brookes' 
Natural  History.  It  was  Goldsmith's  intention 
originally  to  make  a  translation  of  Pliny,  with  a 
popular  commentary  ;  but  the  appearance  of  But- 
ton's work  induced  him  to  change  his  plan  and 
make  use  of  that  author  for  a  guide  and  model. 

Cumberland,  speaking  of  this  work,  observes  : 
"  Distress  drove  Goldsmith  upon  undertakings 
neither  congenial  with  his  studies  nor  worthy  of 
his  talents.  I  remember  him  when,  in  his  cham- 
bers in  the  Temple,  he  showed  me  the  beginning  of 
his  '  Animated  Nature  ;'  it  was  with  a  sigh,  such 
as  genius  draws  when  hard  necessity  diverts  it 
from  its  bent  to  drudge  for  bread,  and  talk  of 
birds,  and  beasts,  and  creeping  things,  which 
Pidock's  showman  would  have  done  as  well.  Poor 
fellow,  he  hardly  knows  an  ass  from  a  mule,  nor 
a  turkey  from  a  goose,  but  when  he  sees  it  on  the 
table." 

Others  of  Goldsmith's  friends  entertained  sim- 
ilar ideas  with  respect  to  his  fitness  for  the  task, 
and  they  were  apt  now  and  then  to  banter  him  on 
the  subject,  and  to  amuse  themselves  with  his  easy 
credulity.  The  custom  among  the  natives  of 
Otaheite  of  eating  dogs  being  once  mentioned  in 
company,  Goldsmith  observed  that  a  similar  cus- 
tom prevailed  in  China  ;  that  a  dog-butcher  is  as 
common  there  as  any  other  butcher  ;  and  that 
when  he  walks  abroad  all  the  dogs  fall  on  him. 
Johnson. — "  That  is  not  owing  to  his  killing 
dogs  ;  sir,  I  remember  a  butcher  at  Litchfield, 
whom  a  dog  that  was  in  the  house  where  I  lived 
always  attacked.  It  is  the  smell  of  carnage 
which  provokes  this,  let  the  animals  he  has  killed 
be  what  they  may."  Goldsmith. — "  Yes,  there  is 
a  general  abhorrence  in  animals  at  the  signs  of 
massacre.  If  you  put  a  tub  full  of  blood  into  a 
stable,  the  horses  are  likely  to  go  mad."  John- 
son.—" I  doubt  that."  Goldsmith. — "Nay,  sir, 
it  is  a  fact  well  authenticated."  Thrale. — "  You 
had  better  prove  it  before  you  put  it  into  your 
book  on  Natural  History.  You  may  do  it  in  my 
stable  if  you  will."  Johnson. — "  Nay,  sir,  I 
would  not  have  him  prove  it.  If  he  is  content  to 
take  his  information  from  others,  he  may  get 
through  his  book  with  little  trouble/ and  without 
much  endangering  his  reputation.  But  if  he 
makes  experiments  for  so  comprehensive  a  book 
as  his,  there  would  be  no  end  to  them  ;  his  er- 
roneous assertions  would  fall  then  upon  himself  ; 
and  he  might  be  blamed  for  not  having  made  ex- 
periments as  to  every  particular." 

Johnson's  original  prediction,  however,  with 
respect  to  this  work,  that  Goldsmith  would  make 
it  as  entertaining  as  a  Persian  tale,  was  verified  ; 
and  though  much  of  it  was  borrowed  from  Buffon, 
and  but  little  of  it  written  from  his  own  observa- 
tion ;  though  it  was  by  no  means  profound,  and 
was  chargeable  with  many  errors,  yet  the  charms 
of  his  style  and  the  play  of  his  happy  disposition 
throughout  have  continued  to  render  it  far  more 
popular  and  readable  than  many  works  on  the 
subject  of  much  greater  scope  and  science.  Cum- 
berland was  mistaken,  however,  in  his  notion  of 
Goldsmith's  ignorance  and  lack  of  observation  as 


232 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


to  the  characteristics  of  animals.  On  the  con- 
trary, he  was  a  minute  and  shrewd  observer  of 
them;  but  he  observed  them  with  the  eye  of  a 
poet  and  moralist  as  well  as  a  naturalist.  We 
quote  two  passages  from  his  works  illustrative  of 
this  fact,  and  we  do  so  the  more  readily  because 
they  are  in  a  manner  a  part  of  his  history,  and 
give  us  another  peep  into  his  private  life  in  the 
Temple  ;  of  his  mode  of  occupying  himself  in  his 
lonely  and  apparently  idle  moments,  and  of 
another  class  of  acquaintances  which  he  made 
there. 

Speaking  in  his  "  Animated  Nature"  of  the 
habitudes  of  Rooks,  "  I  have  often  amused  my- 
self," says  he,  "  with  observing  their  plans  of 
policy  from  my  window  in  the  Temple,  that  looks 
upon  a  grove,  where  they  have  made  a  colony  in 
the  midst  of  a  city.  At  the  commencement  of 
spring  the  rookery,  which,  during  the  continu- 
ance of  winter,  seemed  to  have  been  deserted,  or 
only  guarded  by  about  five  or  six,  like  old  soldiers 
in  a  garrison,  now  begins  to  be  once  more  fre- 
quented ;  and  in  a  short  time,  all  the  bustle  and 
hurry  of  business  will  be  fairly  commenced." 

The  other  passage  which  we  take  the  liberty  to 
quote  at  some  length,  is  from  an  admirable  paper 
in  the  Bee,  and  relates  to  the  House  Spider. 

'  Of  all  the  solitary  insects  I  have  ever  remark- 
ed, the  spider  is  the  most  sagacious,  and  its  mo- 
tions to  me,  who  have  attentively  considered 
them,  seem  almost  to  exceed  belief.  .  .  . 
I  perceived  about  four  years  ago,  a  large  spider 
in  one  corner  of  my  room  making  its  web  ;  and, 
though  the  maid  frequently  levelled  her  broom 
against  the  labors  of  the  little  animal,  I  had  the 
good  fortune  then  to  prevent  its  destruction,  and 
1  may  say  it  more  than  paid  me  by  the  entertain- 
ment it  afforded. 

"In  three  days  the  web  was,  with  incredible 
diligence,  completed  ;  nor  could  I  avoid  thinking 
that  the  insect  seemed  to  exult  in  its  new  abode. 
It  frequently  traversed  it  round,  examined  the 
strength  of  every  part  of  it,  retired  into  its  hole, 
and  came  out  very  frequently.  The  first  enemy, 
however,  it  had  to  encounter  was  another  and  a 
much  larger  spider,  which,  having  no  web  of  its 
own,  and  having  probably  exhausted  all  its  stock 
in  former  labors  of  this  kind,  came  to  invade  the 
property  of  its  neighbor.  Soon,  then,  a  terrible 
encounter  ensued,  in  which  the  invader  seemed 
to  have  the  victory,  and  the  laborious  spider  was 
obliged  to  take  refuge  in  its  hole.  Upon  this  I 
perceived  the  victor  using  every  art  to  draw  the 
enemy  from  its  stronghold.  He  seemed  to  go 
off,  but  quickly  returned  ;  and  when  he  found  all 
arts  in  vain,  began  to  demolish  the  new  web  with- 
out mercy.  This  brought  on  another  battle,  and, 
contrary  to  my  expectations,  the  laborious  spider 
became  conqueror,  and  fairly  killed  his  antago- 
nist. 

"  Now,  then,  in  peaceable  possession  of  what 
was  justly  its  own,  it  waited  three  days  with  the 
utmost  patience,  repairing  the  breaches  of  its  web, 
and  taking  no  sustenance  that  I  could  perceive. 
At  last,  however,  a  large  blue  fly  fell  into  the 
snare,  and  struggled  hard  to  get  loose.  The 
spider  gave  it  leave  to  entangle  itself  as  much  as 
possible,  but  it  seemed  to  be  too  strong  tor  the 
cobweb.  I  must  own  I  was  greatly  surprised 
when  I  saw  the  spider  immediately  sally  out,  and 
in  less  than  a  minute  weave  a  new  net  round  its 
captive,  by  which  the  motion  of  its  wings  was  stop- 
ped ;  and  when  it  was  fairly  hampered  in  this 
manner  it  was  seized  and  dragged  into  the  hole. 

"  In  this  manner  it  lived,  in  a  precarious  state  ; 


and  nature  seemed  to  have  fitted  it  for  such  a  life, 
for  upon  a  single  fly  it  subsisted  tor  more  than  a 
week.  I  once  put  a  wasp  into  the  net  ;  but  when 
the  spider  came  out  in  order  to  seize  it,  as  usual, 
upon  perceiving  what  kind  of  an  enemy  it  had  to 
deal  with,  it  instantly  broke  all  the  bands  that 
held  it  fast,  and  contributed  all  that  lay  in  its 
power  to  disengage  so  formidable  an  antagonist. 
When  the  wasp  was  set  at  liberty,  I  expected  the 
spider  would  have  set  about  repairing  the  breaches 
that  were  made  in  its  net ;  but  those,  it  seems, 
were  irreparable  ;  wherefore  the  cobweb  was  now 
entirely  forsaken,  and  a  new  one  begun,  which 
was  completed  in  the  usual  time. 

"  I  had  now  a  mind  to  try  how  many  cobwebs 
a  single  spider  could  furnish  ;  wherefore  I  de- 
stroyed this,  and  the  insect  set  about  another. 
When  I  destroyed  the  other  also,  its  whole  stock 
seemed  entirely  exhausted,  and  it  could  spin  no 
more.  The  arts  it  made  use  of  to  support  itself, 
now  deprived  of  its  great  means  of  subsistence, 
were  indeed  surprising.  I  have  seen  it  roll  up 
its  legs  like  a  ball,  and  lie  motionless  for  hours 
together,  but  cautiously  watching  all  the  time  ; 
when  a  fly  happened  to  approach  sufficiently  hear, 
it  would  dart  out  all  at  once,  and  often  seize  its 
prey. 

"Of  this  life,  however,  it  soon  began  to  grow 
weary,  and  resolved  to  invade  the  possession  of 
some  other  spider,  since  it  could  not  make  a  web 
of  its  own.  It  formed  an  attack  upon  a  neighbor- 
ing fortification  with  great  vigor,  and  at  first  was 
as  vigorously  repulsed.  Not  daunted,  however, 
with  one  defeat,  in  this  manner  it  continued  to 
lay  siege  to  another's  web  for  three  days,  and  at 
length,  having  killed  the  defendant,  actually  took 
possession.  When  smaller  flies  happen  to  fall 
into  the  snare,  the  spider  does  not  sally  out  at 
once,  but  very  patiently  waits  till  it  is  sure  of 
them  ;  for,  upon  his  immediately  approaching  the 
terror  of  his  appearance  might  give  the  captive 
strength  sufficient  to  get  loose  ;  the  manner,  then, 
is  to  wait  patiently,  till,  by  ineffectual  and  impo- 
tent struggles,  the  captive  has  wasted  all  its 
strength,  and  then  he  becomes  a  certain  and  easy 
conquest. 

"  The  insect  I  am  now  describing  lived  three 
years  ;  every  year  it  changed  its  skin  and  got  a 
new  set  of  legs.  I  have  sometimes  plucked  off  a 
leg,  which  grew  again  in  two  or  three  days.  At 
first  it  dreaded  my  approach  to  its  web,  but  at 
last  it  became  so  familiar  as  to  take  a  fly  out  of 
my  hand  ;  and,  upon  my  touching  any  part  of 
the  web,  would  immediately  leave  its  hole,  pre- 
pared either  for  a  defence  or  an  attack." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

HONORS  AT  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY — LETTER  TO 
HIS  BROTHER  MAURICE — FAMILY  FORTUNES — 
JANE  CONTARINE  AND  THE  MINIATURE— POR- 
TRAITS AND  ENGRAVINGS— SCHOOL  ASSOCIA- 
TIONS—JOHNSON AND  GOLDSMITH  IN  WEST- 
MINSTER ABBEY. 

THE  latter  part  of  the  year  1768  had  been  made 
memorable  in  the  world  of  taste  by  the  institution 
ol  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts,  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  King,  and  the  direction  of  forty  of  the 
most  distinguished  artists.  Reynolds,  who  had 
been  mainly  instrumental  in  founding  it,  had  been 
unanimously  elected  president,  and  had  thereupon 


233 


received  the  honor  of  knighthood.*  Johnson  was 
so  delighted  with  his  friend's  elevation,  that  he 
broke  through  a  rule  of  total  abstinence  with  re* 
spect  to  wine,  which  he  had  maintained  for  sev- 
eral years,  and  drank  bumpers  on  the  occasion. 
Sir  Joshua  eagerly  sought  to  associate  his  old 
and  valued  friends  with  him  in  his  new  honors, 
and  it  is  supposed  to  be  through  his  suggestions 
that,  on  the  first  establishment  of  professorships, 
which  took  place  in  December,  1769,  Johnson  was 
nominated  to  that  of  Ancient  Literature,  and  Gold- 
smith to  that  of  History.  They  were  mere  hon- 
orary titles,  without  emolument,  but  gave  distinc- 
tion, from  the  noble  institution  to  which  they  ap- 
pertained. They  also  gave  the  possessors  honorable 
places  at  the  annual  banquet,  at  which  were  as- 
sembled many  of  the  most  distinguished  persons 
of  rank  and  talent,  all  proud  to  be  classed  among 
the  patrons  of  the  arts. 

The  following  letter  of  Goldsmith  to  his  brother 
alludes  to  the  foregoing  appointment,  and  to  a 
small  legacy  bequeathed  to  him  by  his  uncle  Con- 
tarine, 

"To  Mr.  Maurice   Goldsmith,   at  James  Law- 

der's,    Esq.,    at    Kihnore,    near    Carrick-on- 

Shannon. 

"January,  1770. 

"  DEAR  BROTHER  :  I  should  have  answered 
your  letter  sooner,  but,  in  truth,  I  am  not  fond  of 
thinking  of  the  necessities  of  those  I  love,  when  it 
is  so  very  little  in  my  power  to  help  them.  I  am 
sorry  to  find  you  are  every  way  unprovided  for  ; 
and  what  adds  to  my  uneasiness  is,  that  I  have 
received  a  letter  from  my  sister  Johnson,  by  which 
I  learn  that  she  is  pretty  much  in  the  same  cir- 
cumstances. As  to  mysell,  I  believe  I  think  I 
could  get  both  you  and  my  poor  brother-in-law 
something  like  that  which  you  desire,  but  I  am 
determined  never  to  ask  for  little  things,  nor  ex- 
haust any  little  interest  I  may  have,  until  I  can 
serve  you,  him,  and  myself  more  effectually.  As 
yet,  no  opportunity  has  offered  ;  but  I  believe  you 
are  pretty  well  convinced  that  I  will  not  be  remiss 
when  it  arrives. 

"  The  king  has  lately  been  pleased  to  make  me 
Professor  of  Ancient  History  in  the  Royal  Academy 
of  Painting  which  he  has  just  established,  but 
there  is  no  salary  annexed  ;  and  I  took  it  rather 
as  a  compliment  to  the  institution  than  any  bene- 
fit to  myself.  Honors  to  one  in  my  situation  are 
something  like  ruffles  to  one  that  wants  a  shirt. 

"  You  tell  me  that,  there  are  fourteen  or  fifteen 
pounds  left  me  in  the  hands  of  my  cousin  Lawder, 
and  you  ask  me  what  I  would  have  done  with 
them.  My  dear  brother,  I  would  by  no  means 
give  any  directions  to  my  dear  worthy  relations  at 
Kilmore  how  to  dispose  of  money  which  is,  prop- 
erly speaking,  more  theirs  than  mine.  All  that  I 
can  say  is,  that  I  entirely,  and  this  letter  will 
serve  to  witness,  give  up  any  right  and  title  to  it ; 
and  I  am  sure  they  will  dispose  of  it  to  the  best 
advantage.  To  them  I  entirely  leave  it  ;  whether 
they  or  you  may  think  the  whole  necessary  to  fit 
you  out,  or  whether  our  poor  sister  Johnson  may 
not  want  the  half,  I  leave  entirely  to  their  and  your 
discretion.  The  kindness  of  that  good  couple  to 
our  shattered  family  demands  our  sincerest  grati- 


*  We  must  apologize  for  the  anachronism  we  have 
permitted  ourselves  in  the  course  of  this  memoir,  in 
speaking  of  Reynolds  as  Sir  Joshua,  when  treating 
of  circumstances  which  occurred  prior  to  his  being 
dubbed  ;  but  it  is  so  customary  to  speak  of  him  by 
that  title,  that  we  found  it  difficult  to  dispense  with  it. 


tude  ;  and  though  they  have  almost  forgotten  me, 
yet,  if  good  things  at  last  arrive,  I  hope  one  day 
to  return  and  increase  their  good-humor,  by  add- 
ing to  my  own. 

"  I  have  sent  my  cousin  Jenny  a  miniature  pic- 
ture of  myself,  as  I  believe  it  is  the  most  accepta- 
ble present  I  can  offer.  I  have  ordered  it  to  be 
left  for  her  at  George  Faulkner's,  folded  in  a  let- 
ter. The  face,  you  well  know,  is  ugly  enough, 
but  it  is  finely  painted.  I  will  shortly  also  send 
my  friends  over  the  Shannon  some  mezzotinto 
prints  of  myself,  and  some  more  of  my  friends 
here,  such  as  Burke,  Johnson,  Reynolds,  and 
Colman.  I  believe  I  have  written  a  hundred  let- 
ters to  different  friends  in  your  country,  and  never 
received  an  answer  to  any  of  them.  I  do  not 
know  how  to  account  for  this,  or  why  they  are 
unwilling  to  keep  up  for  me  those  regards  which 
I  must  ever  retain  for  them. 

"  If,  then,  you  have  a  mind  to  oblige  me,  you 
will  write  often,  whether  I  answer  you  or  not. 
Let  me  particularly  have  the  news  of  our  family 
and  old  acquaintances.  For  instance,  you  may 
begin  by  telling  me  about  the  family  where  you 
reside,  how  they  spend  their  time,  and  whether 
they  ever  make  mention  of  me.  Tell  me  about 
my  mother,  my  brother  Hodson  and  his  son,  my 
brother  Harry's  son  and  daughter,  my  sister  John- 
son, the  family  of  Ballyoughter,  what  is  become 
of  them,  where  they  live,  and  how  they  do.  You 
talked  of  being  my  only  brother  :  I  don't  under- 
stand you.  Where  is  Charles  ?  A  sheet  of  paper 
occasionally  filled  with  the  news  of  this  kind  would 
make  me  very  happy,  and  would  keep  you  nearer 
my  mind.  As  it  is,  my  dear  brother,  believe  me 
to  be 

"  Yours,  most  affectionately, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

By  this  letter  we  find  the  Goldsmiths  the  same 
shifting,  shiftless  race  as  formerly  ;  a  "  shattered 
family,"  scrambling  on  each  other's  back  as  soon 
as  any  rise  above  the  surface.  Maurice  is  "  every 
way  unprovided  for;"  living  upon  cousin  Jane 
and  her  husband  and,  perhaps,  amusing  himself 
by  hunting  otter  in  the  river  Inny.  Sister  Johnson 
and  her  husband  are  as  poorly  off  as  Maurice, 
with,  perhaps,  no  one  at  hand  to  quarter  them- 
selves upon  ;  as  to  the  rest,  "  what  is  become 
of  them  ;  where  do  they  live  ;  how  do  they  do  ; 
what  is  become  of  Charles  ?"  What  forlorn,  hap- 
hazard life  is  implied  by  these  questions  !  Can 
we  wonder  that,  with  all  the  love  for  his  native 
place,  which  is  shown  throughout  Goldsmith's 
writings,  he  had  not  the  heart  to  return  there  ? 
Yet  his  affections  are  still  there.  He  wishes  to 
know  whether  the  Lawders  (which  means  his 
cousin  Jane,  his  early  Valentine)  ever  make  men- 
tion of  him  ;  he  sends  Jane  his  miniature  ;  he  be- 
lieves "  it  is  the  most  acceptable  present  he  can 
offer  ;"  he  evidently,  therefore,  does  not  believe 
she  has  almost  forgotten  him,  although  he  in- 
timates that  he  does  :  in  his  memory  she  is  still 
Jane  Contarine,  as  he  last  saw  her,  when  he  ac- 
companied her  harpsichord  with  his  flute.  Ab- 
sence, like  death,  sets  a  seal  on  the  image  of  those 
we  have  loved  ;  we  cannot  realize  the  intervening 
changes  which  time  may  have  effected. 

As  to  the  rest  of  Goldsmith's  relatives,  he  aban- 
dons his  legacy  of  fifteen  pounds,  to  be  shared 
among  them.  It  is  all  he  has  to  give.  His  heed- 
less improvidence  is  eating  up  the  pay  of  the  book- 
sellers in  advance.  With  all  his  literary  success, 
he  has  neither  money  nor  influence  ;  but  he  has 
empty  fame,  and  he  is  ready  to  participate  with 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


them  ;  he  is  honorary  professor,  without  pay  ;  his 
portrait  is.  to  be  engraved  in  mezzotint,  in  company 
with  those  of  his  friends,  Burke,  Reynolds,  John- 
son, Colman,  and  others,  and  he  will  send  prints 
of  them  to  his  friends  over  the  Shannon,  though 
they  may  not  have  a  house  to  hang  them  up  in. 
What  a  motley  letter  !  How  indicative  of  the 
motley  character  of  the  writer  !  By  the  by,  the 
publication  of  a  splendid  mezzotinto  engraving  of 
his  likeness  by  Reynolds,  was  a  great  matter  of 
glorification  to  Goldsmith,  especially  as  it  ap- 
peared in  such  illustrious  company.  As  he  was 
one  day  walking  the  streets  in  a  state  of  high  ela- 
tion, from  having  just  seen  it  figuring  in  the  print- 
shop  windows,  he  met  a  young  gentleman  with  a 
newly  married  wife  hanging  on  his  arm,  whom 
he  immediately  recognized  for  Master  Bishop,  one 
of  the  boys  he  had  petted  and  treated  with  sweet- 
meats when  a  humble  usher  at  Milner's  school. 
The  kindly  feelings  of  old  times  revived,  and  he 
accosted  him  with  cordial  familiarity,  though  the 
youth  may  have  found  some  difficulty  in  recog- 
nizing in  the  personage,  arrayed,  perhaps,  in  gar- 
ments of  Tyrian  dye,  the  dingy  pedagogue  of  the 
Milners.  "Come,  my  boy,"  cried  Goldsmith,  as 
if  still  speaking  to  a  schoolboy,  "  Come,  Sam,  I 
am  delighted  to  see  you.  I  must  treat  you  to 
something — what  shall  it  be  ?  Will  you  have 
some  apples  ?"  glancing  at  an  old  woman's 
stall  ;  then,  recollecting  the  print-shop  window  : 
"Sam,"  baid  he,  "  have  you  seen  my  picture  by 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  ?  Have  you  seen  it,  Sam  ? 
Have  you  got  an  engraving  ?"  Bishop  was 
caught  ;  he  equivocated  ;  he  had  not  yet  bought 
it ;  but  he  was  furnishing  his  house,  and  had  fixed 
upon  the  place  where  it  was  to  be  hung.  "  Ah, 
'Sam  !"  rejoined  Goldsmith  reproachfully,  "  if 
your  picture  had  been  published,  I  should  not 
have  waited  an  hour  without  having  it." 

After  all,  it  was  honest  pride,  not  vanity,  in 
Goldsmith,  that  was  gratified  at  seeing  his  por- 
trait deemed  worthy  of  being  perpetuated  by  the 
classic  pencil  of  Reynolds,  and  "  hung  up  in  his- 
tory" beside  that  of  his  revered  friend,  Johnson. 
Even  the  great  moralist  himself  was  not  insensible 
to  a  feeling  of  this  kind.  Walking  one  day  with 
Goldsmith,  in  Westminster  Abbey,  among  the 
tombs  of  monarchs,  warriors,  and  statesmen,  they 
came  to  the  sculptured  mementos  of  literary 
worthies  in  poets'  corner.  Casting  his  eye  round 
upon  these  memorials  of  genius,  Johnson  mut- 
tered in  a  low  tone  to  his  companion, 

Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis. 

Goldsmith  treasured  up  the  intimated  hope,  and 
shortly  afterward,  as  they  were  passing  by  Tem- 
ple bar,  where  the  heads  of  Jacobite  rebels,  exe- 
cuted for  treason,  were  mouldering  aloft  on 
spikes,  pointed  up  to  the  grizzly  mementos,  and 
echoed  the  intimation, 

Forsitan  et  nostrum  nomen  miscebitur  istis. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

PUBLICATION    OF  THE     "DESERTED    VILLAGE" — 
NOTICES   AND   ILLUSTRATIONS   OF   IT. 

SEVERAL  years  had  now  elapsed  since  the  pub- 
lication of  "  The  Traveller,"  and  much  wonder 
was  expressed  that  the  great  success  of  that  poem 
had  not  excited  the  author  to  further  poetic  at- 


tempts. On  being  questioned  at  the  annual  din- 
ner of  the  Royal  Academy  by  the  Earl  of  Lisburn, 
why  he  neglected  the  muses  to  compile  histories 
and  write  novels,  "  My  Lord,"  replied  he,  "  by 
'courting  the  muses  I  shall  starve,  but  by  my  other 
labors  I  eat,  drink,  have  good  clothes,  and  can 
enjoy  the  luxuries  of  life."  So,  also,  on  being 
asked  by  a  poor  writer  what  was  the  most  profita- 
ble mode  of  exercising  the  pen,  "  My  dear  fellow," 
replied  he,  good-humoredly,  "  pay  no  regard  to 
the  draggle-tailed  muses  ;  for  my  part  I  have 
found  productions  in  prose  much  more  sought 
after  and  better  paid  for." 

Still,  however,  as  we  have  heretofore  shown,  he 
found  sweet  moments  of  dalliance  to  steal  away 
from  his  prosaic  toils,  and  court  the  muse  among 
the  green  lanes  and  hedge-rows  in  the  rural  en- 
virons of  London,  and  on  the  26th  of  May,  1770,  he 
was  enabled  to  bring  his  "  Deserted  Village"  be- 
fore the  public. 

The  popularity  of  "  The  Traveller"  had  pre- 
pared the  way  for  this  poem,  and  its  sale  was  in- 
stantaneous and  immense.  The  first  edition  was 
immediately  exhausted  ;  in  a  few  days  a  second 
was  issued  ;  in  a  few  days  more  a  third,  and  by 
the  i6th  of  August  the  fifth  edition  was  hurried 
through  the  press.  As  is  the  case  with  popular 
writers,  he  had  become  his  own  rival,  and  critics 
were  inclined  to  give  the  preference  to  his  first 
poem  ;  but  with  the  public  at  large  we  believe  the 
"  Deserted  Village"  has  ever  been  the  greatest 
favorite.  Previous  to  its  publication  the  book- 
seller gave  him  in  advance  a  note  for  the  price 
agreed  upon,  one  hundred  guineas.  As  the  latter 
was  returning  home  he  met  a  friend  to  whom  he 
mentioned  the  circumstance,  and  who  apparently 
judging  of  poetry  by  quantity  rather  than  quality, 
observed  that  it  was  a  great  sum  for  so  small  a 
poem.  "  In  truth,"  said  Goldsmith,  "  I  think  so 
too  ;  it  is  much  more  than  the  honest  man  can 
afford  or  the  piece  is  worth.  I  have  not  been  easy 
since  I  received  it."  In  fact,  he  actually  returned 
the  note  to  the  bookseller,  and  left  it  to  him  to 
graduate  the  payment  according  to  the  success  of 
the  work.  The  bookseller,  as  may  well  be  sup- 
posed, soon  repaid  him  in  full  with  many  ac- 
knowledgments of  his  disinterestedness.  This 
anecdote  has  been  called  in  question,  we  know 
not  on  what  grounds  ;  we  see  nothing  in  it  incom- 
patible with  the  character  of  Goldsmith,  who  was 
very  impulsive,  and  prone  to  acts  of  inconsiderate 
generosity. 

As  we  do  not  pretend  in  this  summary  memoir  to 
go  into  a  criticism  or  analysis  of  any  of  Goldsmith's 
writings,  we  shall  not  dwell  upon  the  peculiar 
merits  of  this  poem  ;  we  cannot  help  noticing, 
however,  how  truly  it  is  a  mirror  of  the  author's 
heart,  and  of  all  the  fond  pictures  of  early  friends 
and  early  life  forever  present  there.  It  seems  to 
us  as  if  the  very  last  accounts  received  from 
home,  of  his  "  shattered  family,"  and  the  desola- 
tion that  seemed  to  have  settled  upon  [the  haunts 
of  his  childhood,  had  cut  to  the  roots  one  feebly 
cherished  hope,  and  produced  the  following  ex- 
quisitely tender  and  mournful  lines  : 

"  In  all  my  wand'rings  round  this  world  of  care, 
In  all  my  griefs — and  God  has  giv'n  my  share — 
I  still  had  hopes  my  latest  hours  to  crown, 
Amid  these  humble  bowers  to  lay  me  down  ; 
To  husband  out  life's  taper  at  the  close, 
And  keep  the  flame  from  wasting  by  repose  ; 
I  still  had  hopes,  for  pride  attends  us  still. 
Amid  the  swains  to  show  my  book-learn 'd  skill, 
Around  my  fire  an  ev'ning  group  to  draw, 
And  tell  of  all  I  felt  and  all  I  saw  ; 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


235 


And  as  a  hare,  whom  hounds  and  horns  pursue, 
Pants  to  the  place  from  whence  at  first  she  flew  ; 
I  still  had  hopes,  my  long  vexations  past, 
Here  to  return — and  die  at  home  at  last." 

How  touchingly  expressive  are  the  succeeding 
lines,  wrung  from  a  heart  which  all  the  trials  and 
temptations  and  buffetings  of  the  world  could  not 
render  worldly  ;  which,  amid  a  thousand  follies 
and  errors  of  the  head,  still  retained  its  childlike 
innocence  ;  and  which,  doomed  to  struggle  on  to 
the  last  amid  the  din  and  turmoil  of  the  metropo- 
lis, had  ever  been  cheating  itself  with  a  dream  of 
rural  quiet  and  seclusion  : 

Oh  bless'd  retirement !  friend  to  life's  decline, 
Retreats  from  care,  that  nevefjnust  be  mine, 
How  blest  is  he  who  crowns,  in  shades  like  these, 
A  youth  of  labor  with  an  age  of  ease; 
Who  quits  a  world  where  strong  temptations  try, 
And,  since  'tis  hard  to  combat,  learns  to  fly  ! 
For  him  no  wretches,  born  to  work  and  weep, 
Explore  the  mine,  or  tempt  the  dangerous  deep; 
Nor  surly  porter  stands,  in  guilty  state, 
To  spurn  imploring  famine  from  the  gate  ; 
But  on  he  moves  to  meet  his  latter  end, 
Angels  around  befriending  virtue's  friend  ; 
Sinks  to  the  grave  with  unperceived  decay, 
While  resignation  gently  slopes  the  way  ; 
And  all  his  prospects  brightening  to  the  last, 
His  heaven  commences  ere  the  world  he  past. 


NOTE. 

The  following  article,  which  appeared  in  a  Lon- 
don periodical,  shows  the  effect  of  Goldsmith's 
poem  in  renovating  the  fortunes  of  Lissoy. 

"  About  three  miles  from  Ballymahon,  a  very 
central  town  in  the  sister  kingdom,  is  the  mansion 
and  village  of  Auburn,  so  called  by  their  present 
possessor,  Captain  Hogan.  Through  the  taste 
and  improvement  of  this  gentleman,  it  is  now  a 
beautiful  spot,  although  fifteen  years  since  it  pre- 
sented a  very  bare  and  unpoetical  aspect.  This, 
however,  was  owing  to  a  cause  which  serves 
strongly  to  corroborate  the  assertion  that  Gold- 
smith had  this  scene  in  view  when  he  wrote  his 
poem  of  '  The  Deserted  Village.'  The  then  pos- 
sessor, General  Napier,  turned  all  his  tenants  out 
of  their  farms  that  he  might  inclose  them  in  his 
own  private  domain.  Littleton,  the  mansion  of 
the  general,  stands  not  far  off,  a  complete  emblem 
of  the  desolating  spirit  lamented  by  the  poet, 
dilapidated  and  converted  into  a  barrack. 

"  The  chief  object  of  attraction  is  Lissoy,  once 
the  parsonage  house  of  Henry  Goldsmith,  that 
brother  to  whom  the  poet  dedicated  his  '  Travel- 
ler,' and  who  is  represented  as  the  village  pastor, 

'  Passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year.' 

"  When  I  was  in  the  country,  the  lower  cham- 
bers were  inhabited  by  pigs  and  sheep,  and  the 
drawing-rooms  by  oats.  Captain  Hogan,  how- 
ever, has,  I  believe,  got  it  since  into  his  posses- 
sion, and  has,  of  course,  improved  its  condition. 

"  Though  at  first  strongly  inclined  to  dispute 
the  identity  of  Auburn,  Lissoy  House  overcame 
my  scruples.  As  I  clambered  over  the  rotten 
gate,  and  crossed  the  grass-grown  lawn  or  court, 
the  tide  of  association  became  too  strong  for 
casuistry  ;  here  the  poet  dwelt  and  wrote,  and 
here  his  thoughts  fondly  recurred  when  compos- 
ing his  '  Traveller  '  in  a  foreign  land.  Yonder 
was  the  decent  church,  that  literally  '  topped  the 


neighboring  hill.'  Before  me  lay  the  little  hill  of 
Knockrue,  on  which  he  declares,  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters, he  had  rather  sit  with  a  book  in  hand  than 
mingle  in  the  proudest  assemblies.  And,  above 
all,  startlingly  true,  beneath  my  feet  was 

'  Yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden-flower  grows  wild.' 

"  A  painting  from  the  life  could  not  be  more  ex- 
act. '  The  stubborn  currant-bush  '  lifts  its  head 
above  the  rank  grass,  and  the  proud  hollyhock 
flaunts  where  its  sisters  of  the  flower-knot  are  no 
more. 

"  In  the  middle  of  the  village  stands  the  old 
'  hawthorn-tree,'  built  up  with  masonry  to  distin- 
guish and  preserve  it  ;  it  is  old  and  stunted,  and 
suffers  much  from  the  depredations  of  post-chaise 
travellers,  who  generally  stop  to  procure  a  twig. 
Opposite  to  it  is  the  village  alehouse,  over  the 
door  of  which  swings  '  The  Three  Jolly  Pigeons.' 
Within  everything  is  arranged  according  to  the 
letter  : 

'  The  whitewashed  wall,  the  nicely-sanded  floor, 
The  varnish'd  clock  that  click'd  behind  the  door  : 
The  chest,  contrived  a  double  debt  to  pay, 
A  bed  by  night,  a  chest  of  drawers  by  day  ; 
The  pictures  placed  for  ornament  and  use, 
The  twelve  good  rules,  the  royal  game  of  goose.' 

"  Captain  Hogan,  I  have  heard,  found  great 
difficulty  in  obtaining  '  the  twelve  good  rules,' 
but  at  length  purchased  them  at  some  London 
bookstall  to  adorn  the  whitewashed  parlor  of 
'The  Three  Jolly  Pigeons.'  However  laudable 
this  may  be,  nothing  shook  my  faith  in  the  reality 
of  Auburn  so  much  as  this  exactness,  which  had 
the  disagreeable  air  of  being  got  up  for  the  occa- 
sion. The  last  object  of  pilgrimage  is  the  quon- 
dam habitation  of  the  schoolmaster, 

'  There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skill'd  to  rule.' 

"  It  is  surrounded  with  fragrant  proofs  of  iden- 
tity in 

'  The  blossom'd  furze,  unprofitablygay.' 

"  There  is  to  be  seen  the  chair  of  the  poet,  which 
tell  into  the  hands  of  its  present  possessors  at  the 
wreck  of  the  parsonage-house  ;  they  have  fre- 
quently refused  large  offers  of  purchase  ;  but 
more,  I  dare  say,  for  the  sake  of  drawing  contri- 
butions from  the  curious  than  from  any  reverence 
for  the  bard.  The  chair  is  of  oak,  with  back  and 
seat  of  cane,  which  precluded  all  hopes  of  a  secret 
drawer,  like  that  lately  discovered  in  Gay's. 
There  is  no  fear  of  its  being  worn  out  by  the  de- 
vout earnestness  of  sitters — as  the  cocks  and  hens 
have  usurped  undisputed  possession  of  it,  and 
protest  most  clamorously  against  all  attempts  to 
get  it  cleansed  or  to  seat  one's  self. 

"  The  controversy  concerning  the  identity  of 
this  Auburn  was  formerly  a  standing  theme  of 
discussion  among  the  learned  of  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  but,  since  the  pros  and  cons  have  been  all 
ascertained,  the  argument  has  died  away.  Its 
abettors  plead  the  singular  agreement  between  the 
local  history  of  the  place  and  the  Auburn  of  the 
poem,  and  the  exactness  with  which  the  scenery 
of  the  one  answers  to  the  description  of  the  other. 
To  this  is  opposed  the  mention  of  the  nightingale, 

'  And  fill'd  each  pause  the  nightingale  had  made  ; ' 

there  being  no  such  bird  in  the  island.  The  ob- 
jection is  slighted,  on  the  other  hand,  by  consid- 
ering the  passage  as  a  mere  poetical  license. 


236 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


1  Besides,'  say  they,  '  the  robin  is  the  Irish  night- 
ingale.' And  if  it  be  hinted  how  unlikely  it  was 
that  Goldsmith  should  have  laid  the  scene  in  a 
place  from  which  he  was  and  had  been  so  long 
absent,  the  rejoinder  is  always,  '  Pray,  sir,  was 
Milton  in  hell  when  he  built  Pandemonium  ? ' 

"  The  line  is  naturally  drawn  between  ;  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  the  poet  intended  England 
by 

'  The  land  to  hast'ning  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates  and  men  decay. ' 

But  it  is  very  natural  to  suppose  that,  at  the  same 
time,  his  imagination  had  in  view  the  scenes  of 
his  youth,  which  give  such  strong  features  of  re- 
semblance to  the  picture." 


Best,  an  Irish  clergyman,  told  Davis,  the  travel- 
ler in  America,  that  the  hawthorn-bush  mentioned 
in  the  poem  was  still  remarkably  large.  "  I  was 
riding  once,"  said  he,  "  with  Brady,  titular  Bishop 
of  Ardagh,  when  he  observed  to  me,  '  Ma  foy, 
Best,  this  huge  overgrown  bush  is  mightily  in  the 
way.  I  will  order  it  to  be  cut  down.'  *  What, 
sir  ! '  replied  I,  '  cut  down  the  bush  that  supplies 
so  beautiful  an  image  in  "  The  Deserted  Vil- 
lage ?"  ' — '  Ma  foy  ! '  exclaimed  the  bishop,  '  is 
that  the  hawthorn-bush?  Then  let  it  be  sacred 
from  the  edge  of  the  axe,  and  evil  be  to  him  that 
should  cut  off  a  branch.'  " — The  hawthorn-bush, 
however,  has  long  since  been  cut  up,  root  and 
branch,  in  furnishing  relics  to  literary  pilgrims. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE  POET  AMONG  THE  LADIES — DESCRIPTION  OF 
HIS  PERSON  AND  MANNERS — EXPEDITION  TO 
PARIS  WITH  THE  HORNECK  FAMILY — THE 
TRAVELLER  OF  TWENTY  AND  THE  TRAVELLER 
OF  FORTY — HICKEY,  THE  SPECIAL  ATTORNEY 
— AN  UNLUCKY  EXPLOIT. 

THE  "  Deserted  Village"  had  shed  an  addi- 
tional poetic  grace  round  the  homely  person  of  the 
author  ;  he  was  becoming  more  and  more  ac- 
ceptable in  ladies'  eyes,  and  finding  himself  more 
and  more  at  ease  in  their  society  ;  at  least  in  the 
society  of  those  whom  he  met  in  the  Reynolds 
circle,  among  whom  he  particularly  affected  the 
beautiful  family  of  the  Hornecks. 

But  let  us  see  what  were  really  the  looks  and 
manners  of  Goldsmith  about  this  time,  and  what 
right  he  had  to  aspire  to  ladies'  smiles  ;  and  in  so 
doing  let  us  not  take  the  sketches  of  Boswell  and 
his  compeers,  who  had  a  propensity  to  represent 
him  in  caricature  ;  but  let  us  take  the  apparently 
truthful  and  discriminating  picture  of  him  as  he 
appeared  to  Judge  Day,  when  the  latter  was  a 
student  in  the  Temple. 

"In  person,"  says  the  judge,  "  he  was  short; 
about  five  feet  five  or  six  inches  ;  strong,  but  not 
heavy  in  make  ;  rather  fair  in  complexion,  with 
brown  hair  ;  such,  at  least,  as  could  be  distin- 
guished from  his  wig.  His  features  were  plain, 
but  not  repulsive— certainly  not  so  when  lighted 
up  by  conversation.  His  manners  were  simple, 
natural,  and  perhaps  on  the  whole,  we  may  say, 
not  polished  ;  at  least  without  the  refinement  and 
good-breeding  which  the  exquisite  polish  of  his 
compositions  would  lead  us  to  expect.  He  was 


always  cheerful  and  animated,  often,  indeed,  bois- 
terous in  his  mirth  ;  entered  with  spirit  into  con- 
vivial society  ;  contributed  largely  to  its  enjoy- 
ments by  solidity  of  information,  and  the  naivete" 
and  originality  of  his  character ;  talked  often 
without  premeditation,  and  laughed  loudly  with- 
out restraint." 

This,  it  will  be  recollected,  represe'nts  him  as 
he  appeared  to  a  young  Templar,  who  probably 
saw  him  only  in  Temple  coffee-houses,  at  stu- 
dents' quarters,  or  at  the  jovial  supper  parties 
given  at  the  poet's  own  chambers  ;  here,  of  course, 
his  mind  was  in  its  rough  dress  ;.his  laugh  may 
have  oeen  loud  and  his  mirth  boisterous  ;  but  we 
trust  all  these  matters  became  softened  and 
modified  when  he  found  himself  in  polite  drawing- 
rooms  and  in  female  society. 

But  what  say  the  ladies  themselves  of  him  ; 
and  here,  fortunately,  we  have  another  sketch  of 
him,  as  he  appeared  at  the  time  to  one  of  the 
Horneck  circle  ;  in  fact;  we  believe,  to  the  Jessa- 
my  Bride  herself.  After  admitting,  apparently, 
with  some  reluctance,  that  "  he  was  a  very  plain 
man,"  she  goes  on  to  say,  "  but  had  he  been 
much  more  so,  it  was  impossible  not  to  love  and 
respect  his  goodness  of  heart,  which  broke  out  on 
every  occasion.  His  benevolence  was  unques- 
tionable, and  his  countenance  bore  every  trace  of 
it :  no  one  that  knew  him  intimately  could  avoid 
admiring  and  loving  his  good  qualities."  When 
to  all  this  we  add  the  idea  of  intellectual  delicacy 
and  refinement  associated  with  him  by  his  poetry 
and  the  newly  plucked  bays  that  were  flourishing 
round  his  brow,  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  fine 
and  fashionable  ladies  should  be  proud  of  his  at- 
tentions, and  that  even  a  young  beauty  should  not 
be  altogether  displeased  with  the  thoughts  of  hav- 
ing a  man  of  his  genius  in  her  chains. 

We  are  led  to  indulge  some  notions  of  the  kind 
from  finding  him  in  the  month  of  July,  but  a  few 
weeks  after  the  publication  of  the  "  Deserted  Vil- 
lage," setting  off  on  a  six  weeks'  excursion  to 
Paris,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Horneck  and  her 
two  beautiful  daughters.  A  day  or  two  before 
his  departure,  we  find  another  new  gala  suit 
charged  to  him  on  the  books  of  Mr.  William 
Filby.  Were  the  bright  eyes  of  the  Jessamy  Bride 
responsible  for  this  additional  extravagance  of 
wardrobe  ?  Goldsmith  had  recently  been  editing 
the  works  of  Parnell  ;  had  he  taken  courage  from 
the  example  of  Edwin  in  the  fairy  tale  ? — 

"  Yet  spite  of  all  that  nature  did 
To  make  his  uncouth  form  forbid, 

This  creature  dared  to  love. 
He  felt  the  force  of  Edith's  eyes, 
Nor  wanted  hope  to  gain  the  prize 
Could  ladles  look  within " 

All  this  we  throw  out  as  mere  hints  and  sur- 
mises, leaving  it  to  our  readers  to  draw  their  own 
conclusions.  It  will  be  found,  however,  that  the 
poet  was  subjected  to  shrewd  bantering  among 
his  contemporaries  about  the  beautiful  Mary  Hor- 
neck, and  that  he  was  extremely  sensitive  on  the 
subject. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  June  that  he  set  out  for 
Paris  with  his  fair  companions,  and  the  following 
letter  was  written  by  him  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
soon  after  the  party  landed  at  Calais  : 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  We  had  a  very  quick 
passage  from  Dover  to  Calais,  which  we  per- 
formed in  three  hours  and  twenty  minutes,  all  of 
us  extremely  sea-sick,  which  must  necessarily 
have  happened,  as  my  machine  to  prevent  sea- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


237 


sickness  was  not  completed.  We  were  glad  to 
leave  Dover,  because  we  hated  to  be  imposed 
upon  ;  so  were  in  high  spirits  at  coming  to  Calais, 
where  we  were  told  that  a  little  money  would  go 
a  great  way. 

"  Upon  landing,  with  two  little  trunks,  which 
was  all  we  carried  with  us,  we  were  surprised  to 
see  fourteen  or  fifteen  fellows  all  running  down  to 
the  ship  to  lay  their  hands  upon  them  ;  four  got 
under  each  trunk,  the  rest  surrounded  and  held 
the  hasps  ;  and  in  this  manner  our  little  baggage 
was  conducted,  with  a  kind  of  funeral  solemnity, 
till  it  was  safely  lodged  at  the  custom-house.  We 
were  well  enough  pleased  with  the  people's 
civility  till  they  came  to  be  paid  ;  every  creature 
that  had  the  happiness  of  but  touching  our  trunks 
with  their  finger  expected  sixpence  ;  and  they  had 
so  pretty  and  civil  a  manner  of  demanding  it,  that 
there  was  no  refusing  them. 

"  When  we  had  done  with  the  porters,  we  had 
next  to  speak  with  the  custom-house  officers,  who 
had  their  pretty  civil  ways  too.  We  were  direct- 
ed to  the  Hotel  d'Angleterre,  where  a  valet-de- 
place  came  to  offer  his  service,  and  spoke  to  me 
ten  minutes  before  I  once  found  out  that  he  was 
speaking  English.  We  had  no  occasion  for  his 
services,  so  we  gave  him  a  little  money  because 
he  spoke  English,  and  because  he  wanted  it.  I 
cannot  help  mentioning  another  circumstance  :  I 
bought  a  new  ribbon  for  my  wig  at  Canterbury, 
and  the  barber  at  Calais  broke  it  in  order  to  gain 
sixpence  by  buying  me  a  new  one." 

An  incident  which  occurred  in  the  course  of 
this  tour  has  been  tortured  by  that  literary  mag- 
pie, Boswell,  into  a  proof  of  Goldsmith's  absurd 
jealousy  of  any  admiration  shown  to  others  in  his 
presence.  While  stopping  at  a  hotel  in  Lisle, 
they  were  drawn  to  the  windows  by  a  military 
parade  in  front.  The  extreme  beauty  of  the  Miss 
Hornecks  immediately  attracted  the  attention  of 
the  officers,  who  broke  forth  with  enthusiastic 
speeches  and  compliments  intended  for  their  ears. 
Goldsmith  was  .amused  for  a  while,  but  at  length 
affected  impatience  at  this  exclusive  admiration  of 
his  beautiful  companions,  and  exclaimed,  with 
mock  severity  of  aspect,  "  Elsewhere  I  also  would 
have  my  admirers." 

It  is  difficult  to  conceive  the  obtuseness  of  intel- 
lect necessary  to  misconstrue  so  obvious  a  piece 
of  mock  petulance  and  dry  humor  into  an  instance 
of  mortihed  vanity  and  jealous  self-conceit. 

Goldsmith  jealous  of  the  admiration  of  a  group 
of  gay  officers  for  the  charms  of  two  beautiful 
young  women  !  This  even  out-Boswells  Boswell  ; 
yet  this  is  but  one  of  several  similar  absurdities, 
evidently  misconceptions  of  Goldsmith's  peculiar 
vein  of  humor,  by  which  the  charge  of  envious 
jealousy  has  been  attempted  to  be  fixed  upon  him. 
In  the  present  instance  it  was  contradicted  by  one 
of  the  ladies  herself,  who  was  annoyed  that  it  had 
been  advanced  against  him.  "  I  am  sure,"  said 
she,  "  from  the  peculiar  manner  of  his  humor,  and 
assumed  frown  of  countenance,  what  was  often 
uttered  in  jest  was  mistaken,  by  those  who  did 
not  know  him,  for  earnest,"  No  one  was  more 
prone  to  err  on  this  point  than  Boswe^.  He  had 
a  tolerable  perception  of  wit,  but  none  of  humor. 

The  following  letter  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was 
subsequently  written  : 

To  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

"  PARIS,  July  29  (1770). 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  :  I  began  a  long  letter  to 
your  from  Lisle,  giving  a  description  of  all  that  we 


had  done  and  seen,  but,  finding  it  very  dull,  and 
knowing  that  you  would  show  it  again,  I  threw  it 
aside  and  it  was  lost.  You  see  by  the  top  of  this 
letter  that  we  are  at  Paris,  and  (as  I  have  often 
heard  you  say)  we  have  brought  our  own  amuse- 
ment with  us,  for  the  ladies  do  not  seem  to  be 
very  fond  of  what  we  have  yet  seen. 

"  With  regard  to  myself,  I  find  that  travelling 
at  twenty  and  forty  are  very  different  things.  I 
set  out  with  all  my  confirmed  habits  about  me, 
and  can  find  nothing  on  the  Continent  so  good  as 
when  I  formerly  left  it.  One  of  our  chief  amuse- 
ments here  is  scolding  at  everything  we  meet 
with,  and  praising  everything  and  every  person 
we  left  at  home.  You  may  judge,  therefore, 
whether  your  name  is  not  frequently  bfndied  at 
table  among  us.  To  tell  you  the  truth,' I  never 
thought  I  could  regret  your  absence  so  much  as 
our  various  mortifications  on  the  road  have  often 
taught  me  to  do.  I  could  tell  you  of  disasters  and 
adventures  without  number  ;  of  our  lying  in 
barns,  and  of  my  being  half  poisoned  with  a  dish 
of  green  peas  ;  of  our  quarrelling  with  postilions, 
and  being  cheated  by  our  landladies  ;  but  I  re- 
serve all  this  for  a  happy  hour  which  I  expect  to 
share  with  you  upon  my  return. 

"  I  have  little  to  tell  you  more  but  that  we  are 
at  present  all  well,  and  expect  returning  when  we 
have  stayed  out  one  month,  which  I  did  not  care 
if  it  were  over  this  very  day.  I  long  to  hear  from 
you  all,  how  you  yourself  do,  how  Johnson,  Burke, 
Dyer,  Chamier,  C'olman,  and  every  one  of  the 
club  do.  I  wish  I  could  send  you  some  amuse- 
ment in  this  letter,  but  I  protest  I  am  so  stupe- 
fied by  the  air  of  this  country  (for  I  am  sure  it 
cannot  be  natural)  that  I  have  not  a  word  to  say. 
I  have  been  thinking  of  the  plot  of  a  comedy, 
which  shall  be  entitled  A  Journey  to  Paris,  in 
which  a  family  shall  be  introduced  with  a  full  in- 
tention of  going  to  France  to  save  money.  You 
know  there  is  not  a  place  in  the  world  more  prom- 
ising for  that  purpose.  As  for  the  meat  of  this 
country,  I  can  scarce  eat  it  ;  and,  though  we  pay 
two  good  shillings  a  head  for  our  dinner,  I  find 
it  all  so  tough  that  I  have  spent  less  time  with  my 
knife  than  my  picktooth.  I  said  this  as  a  good 
thing  at  the  table,  but  it  was  not  understood.  I 
believe  it  to  be  a  good  thing. 

"  As  for  our  intended  journey  to  Devonshire,  I 
find  it  out  of  my  power  to  perform  it  ;  for,  as 
soon  as  I  arrive  at  Dover,  I  intend  to  let  the 
ladies  go  on,  and  I  will  take  a  country  lodging 
somewhere  near  that  place  in  order  to  do  some 
business.  I  have  so  outrun  the  constable  that  I 
must  mortify  a  little  to  bring  it  up  again.  For 
God's  sake,  the  night  you  receive  this,  take  your 
pen  in  your  hand  and  tell  me  something  about 
yourself  and  myself,  if  you  know  anything  that 
has  happened.  About  Miss  Reynolds,  about  Mr. 
Bickerstaff,  my  nephew,  or  anybody  that  you  re- 
gard. I  beg  you  will  send  to  Griffin  the  book- 
seller to  know  if  there  be  any  letters  left  for  me, 
and  be  so  good  as  to  send  them  to  me  at  Paris. 
They  may  perhaps  be  left  for  me  at  the  Porter's 
Lodge,  opposite  the  pump  in  Temple  Lane.  The 
same  messenger  will  do.  I  expect  one  from  Lord 
Clare,  from  Ireland.  As  for  the  others,  I  am  not 
much  uneasy  about. 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you  at  Paris  ? 
I  wish  you  would  tell  me.  The  whole  of  my  own 
purchases  here  is  one  silk  coat,  which  I  have  put 
on,  and  which  makes  me  look  like  a  fool.  But  no 
more  of  that.  I  find  that  Colman  has  gained  his 
lawsuit.  I  am  glad  of  it.  I  suppose  you  often 
meet.  I  will  soon  be  among  you,  better  pleased 


238 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


with  my  situation  at  home  than  I  ever  was  before. 
And  yet  I  must  say,  that  if  anything  could  make 
France  pleasant,  the  very  good  women  with 
whom  I  am  at  present  would  certainly  do  it.  I 
could  say  more  about  that,  but  I  intend  showing 
them  the  letter  before  I  send  it  away.  What 
signifies  teasing  you  longer  with  moral  observa- 
tions, when  the  business  of  my  writing  is  over  ? 
I  have  one  thing  only  more  to  say,  and  of  that  I 
think  every  hour  in  the  clay,  namely  that  I  am 
your  most  sincere  and  most  affectionate  friend, 
"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  Direct  to  me  at  the  Hotel  de  Danemarc, ) 
Rue  Jacob,  Fauxbourg  St.  Germains. "    f 

A  wo  id  of  comment  on  this  letter  : 

Travelling  is,  indeed,  a  very  different  thing 
with  Goldsmith  the  poor  student  at  twenty,  and 
Goldsmith  the  poet  and  professor  at  forty.  At 
twenty,  though  obliged  to  trudge  on  foot  from 
town  to  town,  and  country  to  country,  paying 
for  a  supper  and  a  bed  by  a  tune  on  the  flute, 
everything  pleased,  everything  was  good  ;  a 
truckle  bed  in  a  garret  was  a  couch  of  down,  and 
the  homely  fare  of  the  peasant  a  feast  fit  tor  an 
epicure.  Now,  at  forty,  when  he  posts  through 
the  country  in  a  carriage,  with  fair  ladies  by  his 
side,  everything  goes  wrong  :  he  has  to  quarrel 
with  postilions,  he  is  cheated  by  landladies,  the 
hotels  are  barns,  the  meat  is  too  tough  to  be 
eaten,  and  he  is  half  poisoned  by  green  peas  ! 
A  line  in  his  letter  explains  the  secret  :  "  the 
ladies  do  not  seem  to  be  very  fond  of  what  we 
have  yet  seen."  "  One  of  our  chief  amusements 
is  scolding  at  everything  we  meet  with,  and 
praising  everything  and  every  person  we  have 
Jelt  at  home!"  the  true  English  travelling  amuse- 
ment. Poor  Goldsmith  !  he  has  "  all  his  con- 
firmed habits  about  him  ;"  that  is  so  say,  he  has 
recently  risen  into  high  life,  and  acquired  high- 
bred notions;  he  must  be  fastidious  like  his  fel- 
low-travellers; he  dare  not  be  pleased  with  what 
pleased  the  vulgar  tastes  of  his  youth.  He  is  un- 
consciously illustrating  the  trait  so  humorously 
satirized  by  him  in  Bill  Tibbs,  the  shabby  beau, 
who  can  find  "no  such  dressing  as  he  had  at  Lord 
Crump's  or  Lady  Crimp's  ;"  whose  very  senses 
have  grown  genteel,  and  who  no  longer  "  smacks 
at  wretched  wine  or  praises  detestable  custard." 
A  lurking  thorn,  too,  is  worrying  him  throughout 
this  tour  ;  he  has  "  outrun  the  constable  ;"  that 
is  to  say,  his  expenses  have  outrun  his  means,  and 
he  will  have  to  make  up  for  this  butterfly  flight 
by  toiling  like  a  grub  on  his  return. 

Another  circumstance  contributes  to  mar  the 
pleasure  he  had  promised  himself  in  this  excur- 
sion. At  Paris  the  party  is  unexpectedly  joined 
by  a  Mr.  Hickey,  a  bustling  attorney,  who  is  well 
acquainted  with  that  metropolis  and  its  environs, 
and  insists  on  playing  the  cicerone  on  all  occa- 
sions. He  and  Goldsmith  do  not  relish  each 
other,  and  they  have  several  petty  altercations. 
The  lawyer  is  too  much  a  man  of  business  and 
method  for  the  careless  poet,  and  is  disposed  to 
manage  everything.  He  has  perceived  Gold- 
smith's whimsical  peculiarities  without  properly 
appreciating  his  merits,  and  is  prone  to  indulge 
in  broad  bantering  and  raillery  at  his  expense, 
particularly  irksome  if  indulged  in  presence  of 
the  ladies.  He  makes  himself  merry  on  his  re- 
turn to  England,  by  giving  the  following  anecdote 
as  illustrative  of  Goldsmith's  vanity  : 

"  Being  with  a  party  at  Versailles,  viewing  the 
waterworks,  a  question  arose  among  the  gentlemen 
present,  whether  the  distance  from  whence  they 


stood  to  one  of  the  little  islands  was  within  the 
compass  of  a  leap.  Goldsmith  maintained  the 
affirmative  ;  but,  being  bantered  on  the  subject, 
and  remembering  his  former  prowess  as  a  youth, 
attempted  the  leap,  but,  falling  short,  descended 
into  the  water,  to  the  great  amusement  of  the 
company." 

Was  the  Jessamy  Bride  a  witness  of  this  un- 
lucky exploit  ? 

This  same  Hickey  is  the  one  of  whom  Goldsmith, 
some  time  subsequently,  gave  a  good-humored 
sketch,  in  his  poem  of  "  The  Retaliation." 

"  Here  Hickey  reclines,  a  most  blunt,  pleasant  crea- 
ture. 

And  slander  itself  must  allow  him  good  nature  ; 

He  cherish'd  his  friend,  and  he  relish'd  a  bumper, 

Yet  one  fault  he  had,  and  that  one  was  a  thumper. 

Perhaps  you  may  ask  if  the  man  was  a  miser  ; 

I  answer  No,  no,  for  he  always  was  wiser  ; 

Too  courteous,  perhaps,  or  obligingly  flat. 

His  very  worst  foe  can't  accuse  him  of  that  ; 

Perhaps  he  confided  in  men  as  they  go, 

And  so  was  too  foolishly  honest  ?    Ah,  no  ! 

Then  what  was  his  failing  ?  Come,  tell  it,  and  burn 
ye— 

He  was,  could  he  help  it?  a  special  attorney." 

One  of  the  few  remarks  extant  made  by  Gold- 
smith during  his  tour  is  the  following,  of  whim- 
sical import,  in  his  "  Animated  Nature." 

"  In  going  through  the  towns  of  France,  some 
time  since,  1  could  not  help  observing  how  much 
plainer  their  parrots  spoke  than  ours,  and  how 
very  distinctly  I  understood  their  parrots  speak 
French,  when  I  could  not  understand  our  own, 
though  they  spoke  my  native  language.  I  at  first 
ascribed  it  to  the  different  qualities  of  the  two 
languages,  and  was  tor  entering  into  an  elaborate 
discussion  on  the  vowels  and  consonants  ;  but  a 
friend  that  was  with  me  solved  the  difficulty  at 
once,  by  assuring  me  that  the  French  women 
scarce  did  anything  else  the  whole  clay  than  sit 
and  instruct  their  feathered  pupils  ;  and  that  the 
birds  were  thus  distinct  in  their  lessons  in  conse- 
quence ol  continual  schooling." 

His  tour  does  not  seem  to  have  left  in  his 
memory  the  most  fragrant  recollections  ;  tor, 
being  asked,  after  his  return,  whether  travelling 
on  the  Continent  repaid  "  an  Englishman  for  the 
privations  and  annoyances  attendant  on  it,"  he 
replied,  "  I  recommend  it  by  all  means  to  the 
sick,  if  they  are  without  the  sense  of  smelling,  and 
to  the  poor  if  they  are  without  the  sense  of  feel- 
ing;  and  to  both  if  they  can  discharge  from  their 
minds  all  idea  of  what  in  England  we  term  com- 
fort." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  universal  improve- 
ment in  the  art  of  living  on  the  Continent  has  at 
the  present  day  taken  away  the  force  of  Gold- 
smith's reply,  though  even  at  the  time  it  was  more 
humorous  than  correct. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

* 

DEATH  OF  GOLDSMITH'S  MOTHER— BIOGRAPHY 
OF  PARNELL— AGREEMENT  WITH  DAVIES  FOR 
THE  HISTORY  OF  ROME — LIFE  OF  BOLING- 
BROKE — THE  HAUNCH  OF  VENISON. 

ON  his  return  to  England,  Goldsmith  received 
the  melancholy  tidings  of  the  death  of  his  mother. 
Notwithstanding  the  fame  as  an  author  to  which 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


239 


he  had  attained,  she  seems  to  have  been  disap- 
pointed in  her  early  expectations  from  him.  Like 
others  of  his  family,  she  had  been  more  vexed  by 
his  early  follies  than  pleased  by  his  proofs  of 
genius  ;  and  in  subsequent  years,  when  he  had 
risen  to  fame  and  to  intercourse  with  the  great, 
had  been  annoyed  at  the  ignorance  of  the  world 
and  want  of  management,  which  prevented  him 
from  pushing  his  fortune.  He  had  always,  how- 
ever, been  an  affectionate  son,  and  in  the  latter 
years  of  her  life,  when  she  had  become  blind, 
contributed  from  his  precarious  resources  to  pre- 
vent her  from  feeling  want. 

He  now  resumed  the  labors  of  the  pen,  which 
his  recent  excursion  to  Paris  rendered  doubly 
necessary.  We  should  have  mentioned  a  "  Life 
of  Parnell,"  published  by  him  shortly  after  the 
'  Deserted  Village."  It  was,  as  usual,  a  piece  of 
job  work,  hastily  got  up  for  pocket-money.  John- 
son spoke  slightingly  of  it,  and  the  author,  him- 
self, thought  proper  to  apologize  for  its  meagre- 
ness  ;  yet,  in  so  doing,  used  a  simile,  which  for 
beauty  of  imagery  and  felicity  of  language,  is 
enough  of  itself  to  stamp  a  value  upon  the  essay. 

"  Such,"  says  he,  "  is  the  very  unpoetical  detail 
of  the  life  of  a  poet.  Some  dates  and  some  few 
facts,  scarcely  more  interesting  than  those  that 
make  the  ornaments  of  a  country  tombstone,  are 
all  that  remain  of  one  whose  labors  now  begin  to 
excite  universal  curiosity.  A  poet,  while  living, 
is  seldom  an  object  sufficiently  great  to  attract 
much  attention  ;  his  real  merits  are  known  but 
to  a  few,  and  these  are  generally  sparing  in  their 
praises.  When  his  fame  is  increased  by  time,  it 
is  then  too  late  to  investigate  the  peculiarities  of 
his  disposition  ;  the  dews  of  morning  are  past, 
and  we  vainly  try  to  continue  the  chase  by  the 
meridia  n  splendor. ' ' 

He  now  entered  into  an  agreement  with  Da- 
vies  to  prepare  an  abridgment,  in  one  volume  duo- 
decimo, of  his  History  of  Rome  ;  but  first  to 
write  a  work  for  which  there  was  a  more  immedi- 
ate demand.  Davies  was  about  to  republish  Lord 
Bolingbroke's  "  Dissertation  on  Parties,"  which 
he  conceived  would  be  exceedingly  applicable  to 
the  affairs  of  the  day,  and  make  a  probable  hit 
during  the  existing  state  of  violent  political  excite- 
ment ;  to  give  it  still  greater  effect  and  currency 
he  engaged  Goldsmith  to  introduce  it  with  a  pref- 
atory life  of  Lord  Bolingbroke. 

About  this  time  Goldsmith's  friend  and  country- 
man, Lord  Clare,  was  in  great  affliction,  caused 
by  the  death  of  his  only  son,  Colonel  Nugent,  and 
stood  in  need  of  the  sympathies  of  a  kind-hearted 
friend.  At  his  request,  therefore,  Goldsmith  paid 
him  a  visit  at  his  noble  seat  of  Gosford,  taking  his 
tasks  with  him.  Davies  was  in  a  worry  lest  Gos- 
ford Park  should  prove  a  Capua  to  the  poet,  and 
the  time  be  lost.  "  Dr.  Goldsmith,"  writes  he 
to  a  friend,  "  has  gone  with  Lord  Clare  into  the 
country,  and  I  am  plagued  to  get  the  proofs  from 
him  of  the  Lite  of  Lord  Bolingbroke."  The 
proofs,  however,  were  furnished  in  time  for  the 
publication  of  the  work  in  December.  The  Biog- 
raphy, though  written  during  a  time  of  political 
turmoil,  and  introducing  a  work  intended  to  be 
thrown  into  the  arena  of  politics,  maintained  that 
freedom  from  party  prejudice  observable  in  all 
the  writings  of  Goldsmith.  It  was  a  selection  of 
facts  drawn  from  many  unreadable  sources,  and 
arranged  into  a  clear,  flowing  narrative,  illustra- 
tive of  the  career  and  character  of  one  who,  as  he 
intimates,  "  seemed  formed  by  nature  to  take  de- 
iight  in  struggling  with  opposition  ;  whose  most 
agreeable  hours  were  passed  in  storms  of  his  own 


creating  ;  whose  life  was  spent  in  a  continual  con- 
flict of  politics,  and  as  if  that  was  too  short  tor 
the  combat,  has  left  his  memory  as  a  subject  of 
lasting  contention."  The  sum  received  by  the 
author  for  this  memoir,  is  supposed,  from  circum- 
stances, to  have  been  forty  pounds. 

Goldsmith  did  not  find  the  residence  among  the 
great  unattended  with  mortifications.  He  had 
now  become  accustomed  to  be  regarded  in  Lon- 
don as  a  literary  lion,  and  was  annoyed,  at  what 
he  considered  a  slight,  on  the  part  of  Lord  Cam- 
den.  He  complained  of  it  on  his  return  to  town 
at  a  party  of  his  friends.  "  I  met  him,"  said  he, 
"  at  Lord  Clare's  house  in  the  country  ;  and  he 
took  no  more  notice  of  me  than  if  I  had  been  an 
ordinary  man."  "  The  company,"  says  Bosvvell, 
"  laughed  heartily  at  this  piece  of  '  diverting  sim- 
plicity.1 '  And  foremost  among  the  laughers 
was  doubtless  the  rattle-pated  Boswell.  Johnson, 
however,  stepped  forward,  as  usual,  to  defend  the 
poet,  whom  he  would  allow  no  one  to  assail  but 
himself ;  perhaps  in  the  present  instance  he 
thought  the  dignity  of  literature  itself  involved  in 
the  question.  "  Nay,  gentlemen,"  roared  he, 
"  Dr.  Goldsmith  is  in  the  right.  A  nobleman 
ought  to  have  made  up  to  such  a  man  as  Gold- 
smith, and  I  think  it  is  much  against  Lord  Cam- 
den  that  he  neglected  him." 

After  Goldsmith's  return  to  town  he  received 
from  Lord  Clare  a  present  of  game,  which  he  has 
celebrated  and  perpetuated  in  his  amusing  verses 
entitled  the  "  Haunch  of  Venison."  Some  of  the 
lines  pleasantlyset  forth  the  embarrassment  caused 
by  the  appearance  of  such  an  aristocratic  del- 
icacy in  the  humble  kitchen  of  a  poet,  accus- 
tomed to  look  up  to  mutton  as  a  treat : 

"  Thanks,  my  lord,   for  your  venison  ;  for  finer  or 

fatter 

Never  rang'd  in  a  forest,  or  smok'd  in  a  platter  : 
The  haunch  was  a  picture  for  painters  to  study, 
The  fat  was  so  white,  and  the  lean  was  so  ruddy  ; 
Though  my  stomach  was  sharp,  I  could  scarce  help 

regretting, 

To  spoil  such  a  delicate  picture  by  eating  : 
I  had  thought  in  my  chambers  to  place  it  in  view, 
To  be  shown  to  my  friends  as  a  piece  of  virtu  ; 
As  in  some  Irish  houses  where  things  are  so-so, 
One  gammon  of  bacon  hangs  up  for  a  show  ; 
But,  for  eating  a  rasher,  of  what  they  take  pride  in, 
They'd  as  soon  think  of  eating  the  pan  it  was  fry'd 


But  hang  it — to  poets,  who  seldom  can  eat, 
Your  very  good  mutlon's  a  very  good  treat  ; 
Such  dainties  to  them,  their  health  it  might  hurt  : 
It's    like    sending    them    ruffles,    when    wanting    a 
shirt." 

We  have  an  amusing  anecdote  of  one  of  Gold- 
smith's blunders  which  took  place  on  a  subse- 
quent visit  to  Lord  Clare's,  when  that  nobleman 
was  residing  in  Bath. 

Lord  Clare  and  the  Duke  of  Northumberland 
had  houses  next  to  each  other,  of  similar  archi- 
tecture. Returning  home  one  morning  from  an 
early  walk,  Goldsmith,  in  one  of  his  frequent  fits 
of  absence,  mistook  the  house,  and  walked  up  into 
the  duke's  dining-room,  where  he  and  the  duchess 
were  about  to  sit  down  to  breakfast.  Goldsmith, 
still  supposing  himself  in  the  house  of  Lord  Clare, 
and  that  they  were  visitors,  made  them  an  easy 
salutation,  being  acquainted  with  them,  and 
threw  himself  on  a  sofa  in  the  lounging  manner 
of  a  man  perfectly  at  home.  The  duke  and 
duchess  soon  perceived  his  mistake,  and,  while 
they  smiled  internally,  endeavored,  with  the  con- 


240 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


siderateness  of  well-bred  people,  to  prevent  any 
awkward  embarrassment.  They  accordingly 
chatted  sociably  with  him  about  matters  in  Bath, 
until,  breakfast  being  served,  they  invited  him  to 
partake.  The  truth  at  once  flashed  upon  poor 
needless  Goldsmith  ;  he  started  up  from  the  free- 
and-easy  position,  made  a  confused  apology  for 
his  blunder,  and  would  have  retired  perfectly  dis- 
concerted, had  not  the  duke  and  duchess  treated 
the  whole  as  a  lucky  occurrence  to  throw  him  in 
their  way,  and  exacted  a  promise  from  him  to  dine 
with  them. 

This  may  be  hung  up  as  a  companion-piece  to 
his  blunder  on  his  first  visit  to  Northumberland 
House. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

DINNER  AT  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY — THE  ROWLEY 
CONTROVERSY  —  HORACE  WALPOLE*S  CON- 
DUCT TO  CHATTERTON — JOHNSON  AT  RED- 
CLIFFE  CHURCH — GOLDSMITH'S  HISTORY  OF 
ENGLAND — DAVIES'S  CRITICISM — LETTER  TO 
BENNET  LANGTON. 

ON  St.  George's  day  of  this  year  (1771),  the  first 
annual  banquet  of  the  Royal  Academy  was  held 
in  the  exhibition  room  ;  the  walls  of  which  were 
covered  with  works  of  art,  about  to  be  submitted 
to  public  inspection.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who 
first  suggested  this  elegant  festival,  presided  in 
his  official  character  ;  Drs.  Johnson  and  Gold- 
smith, of  course,  were  present,  as  professors  of 
the  academy  ;  and,  beside  the  academicians, 
there  was  a  large  number  of  the  most  distinguish- 
ed men  of  the  day  as  guests.  Goldsmith  on  this 
occasion  drew  on  himself  the  attention  of  the 
company  by  launching  out  with  enthusiasm  on  the 
poems  recently  given  to  the  world  by  Chatterton 
as  the  works  of  an  ancient  author  by  the  name  of 
Rowley,  discovered  in  the  tower  of  Redcliffe 
Church,  at  Bristol.  Goldsmith  spoke  of  them  with 
rapture,  as  a  treasure  of  old  English  poetry. 
This  immediately  raised  the  question  of  their  au- 
thenticity ;  they  having  been  pronounced  a  for- 
gery of  Chatterton's.  ,  Goldsmith  was  warm  for 
their  being  genuine.  When  he  considered,  he 
said,  the  merit  of  the  poetry  ;  the  acquaintance 
with  life  and  the  human  heart  displayed  in  them, 
the  antique  quaintness  of  the  language  and  the 
familiar  knowledge  of  historical  events  of  their 
supposed  day,  he  could  not  believe  it  possible  they 
could  be  the  work  of  a  boy  of  sixteen,  of  narrow 
education,  and  confined  to  the  duties  of  an  attor- 
ney's office.  They  must  be  the  productions  of 
Rowley. 

Johnson,  who  was  a  stout  unbeliever  in  Row- 
ley, as  he  had  been  in  Ossian,  rolled  in  his  chair 
and  laughed  at  the  enthusiasm  of  Goldsmith. 
Horace  VValpole,  who  sat  near  by,  joined  in  the 
laugh  and  jeer  as  soon  as  he  found  that  the 
"trouvaille,"  as  he  called  it,  "of  his  friend 
Chatterton"  was  in  question.  This  matter,  which 
had  excited  the  simple  admiration  of  Goldsmith, 
was  no  novelty  to  him,  he  said.  "  He  might,  had 
he  pleased,  have  had  the  honor  of  ushering  the 
great  discovery  to  the  learned  world."  And  so 
he  might,  had  he  followed  his  first  impulse  in  the 
matter,  for  he  himself  had  been  an  original  be- 
liever ;  had  pronounced  some  specimen  verses 
sent  to  him  by  Chatterton  wonderful  lor  their 
harmony  and  spirit  ;  and  had  been  ready  to  print 
them  and  publish  them  to  the  world  with  his 


sanction.  When  he  found,  however,  that  his 
unknown  correspondent  was  a  mere  boy,  humble 
in  sphere  and  indigent  in  circumstances,  and 
when  Gray  and  Mason  pronounced  the  poems  for- 
geries, he  had  changed  his  whole  conduct  toward 
the  unfortunate  author,  and  by  his  neglect  and 
coldness  had  dashed  all  his  sanguine  hopes  to 
the  ground. 

Exulting  in  his  superior  discernment,  this  cold- 
hearted  man  of  society  now  went  on  to  divert 
himself,  as  he  says,  with  the  credulity  of  Gold- 
smith, whom  he  was  accustomed  to  pronounce 
"  an  inspired  idiot  ;"  but  his  mirth  was  soon  dash- 
ed, for  on  asking  the  poet  what  had  become  of 
this  Chatterton,  he  was  answered,  doubtless  in 
the  feeling  tone  of  one  who  had  experienced  the 
pangs  of  despondent  genius,  that  "  he  had  been 
to  London  and  had  destroyed  himself." 

The  reply  struck  a  pang  of  self-reproach  even  to 
the  cold  heart  of  Walpole  ;  a  faint  blush  may  have 
visited  his  cheek  at  his  recent  levity.  "  The  per- 
sons of  honor  and  veracity  who  were  present," 
said  he  in  after  years,  when  he  found  it  neces- 
sary to  exculpate  himself  from  the  charge  of  heart- 
less neglect  of  genius,  "will  attest  with  what 
surprise  and  concern  I  thus  fii*st  heard  of  his 
death."  Well  might  he  feel  concern.  His  cold 
neglect  had  doubtless  contributed  to  madden  the 
spirit  of  that  youthful  genius,  and  hurry  him  toward 
his  untimely  end  ;  nor  have  all  the  excuses  and 
palliations  of  Walpole's  friends  and  admirers 
been  ever  able  entirely  to  clear  this  stigma  from 
his  fame. 

But  what  was  there  in  the  enthusiasm  and  cre- 
dulity of  honest  Goldsmith  in  this  matter,  to  sub- 
ject him  to  the  laugh  of  Johnson  or  the  raillery 
of  Walpole  ?  Granting  the  poems  were  not  an- 
cient, were  they  not  good  ?  Granting  they  were 
not  the  productions  of  Rowley,  were  they  the  less 
admirable  for  being  the  productions  of  Chatter- 
ton  ?  Johnson  himself  testified  to  their  merits 
and  the  genius  of  their  composer  when,  some 
years  afterward,  he  visited  the  tower  of  Redcliffe 
Church,  and  was  shown  the  coffer  in  which  poor 
Chatterton  had  pretended  to  find  them.  "  This," 
said  he,  "  is  the  most  extraordinary  young  man 
that  has  encountered  my  knowledge.  //  is 
wonderful  hoiu  the  -whelp  has  written  such 
things." 

As  to  Goldsmith,  he  persisted  in  his  credulity, 
and  had  subsequently  a  dispute  with  Dr.  Percy 
on  the  subject,  which  interrupted  and  almost  de- 
stroyed their  friendship.  After  all,  his  enthusi- 
asm was  of  a  generous,  poetic  kind  ;  the  poems 
remain  beautiful  monuments  of  genius,  and  it  is 
even  now  difficult  to  persuade  one's  self  that  they 
could  be  entirely  the  productions  of  a  youth  of 
sixteen. 

In  the  month  of  August  was  published  anony- 
mously the  History  of  England,  on  which  Gold- 
smith had  been  for  some  time  employed.  It  was 
in  four  volumes,  compiled  chiefly,  as  he  acknowl- 
edged in  the  preface,  from  Rapin,  Carle,  Smollett, 
and  Hume,  "  each  of  whom,"  says  he,  "  have 
their  admirers,  in  proportion  as  the  reader  is  stu- 
dious of  political  antiquities,  fond  of  minute  an- 
ecdote, a  warm  partisan,  or  a  deliberate  rea- 
soner."  It  possessed  the  same  kind  of  merit  as 
his  other  historical  compilations  ;  a  clear,  suc- 
cinct narrative,  a  simple,  easy,  and  graceful  style, 
and  an  agreeable  arrangement  of  facts  ;  but  was 
not  remarkable  for  either  depth  of  observation  or 
minute  accuracy  of  research.  Many  passages 
were  transferred,  with  little  if  any  alteration,  from 
his  "  Letters  from  a  Nobleman  to  his  Son"  on 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


241 


the  same  subject.  The  work,  though  written 
without  party  feeling,  met  with  sharp  animad- 
versions from  political  scribblers.  The  writer 
was  charged  with  being  unfriendly  to  liberty,  dis- 
posed to  elevate  monarchy  above  its  proper  sphere  ; 
a  tool  ot  ministers  ;  one  who  would  betray  his 
country  for  a  pension.  Tom  Davies,  the  publisher, 
the  pompous  little  bibliopole  of  Russell  Street, 
alarmed  lest  the  book  should  prove  unsalable, 
undertook  to  protect  it  by  his  pen,  and  wrote  a 
long  article  in  its  defence  in  The  Public  Adver- 
tiser. He  was  vain  of  his  critical  effusion,  and 
sought  by  nods  and  winks  and  inuendoes  to  in- 
timate his  authorship.  "  Have  you  seen,"  said 
he  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  "  '  An  Impartial  Ac- 
count of  Goldsmith's  History  of  England  ? '  If 
you  want  to  know  who  was  the  writer  of  it,  you 
will  find  him  in  Russell  Street  ; — but  mum!" 

The  history,  on  the  whole,  however,  was  well 
received  ;  some  of  the  critics  declared  that  Eng- 
lish history  had  never  before  been  so  usefully,  so 
elegantly,  and  agreeably  epitomized,  "  and,  like 
his  other  historical  writings,  it  has  kept  its 
ground"  in  English  literature. 

Goldsmith  had  intended  this  summer,  in  com- 
pany with  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Bennet  Langton,  at  his  seat  in  Lincolnshire, 
where  he  was  settled  in  domestic  life,  having  the 
year  previously  married  the  Countess  Dowager  of 
Rothes.  The  following  letter,  however,  dated 
from  his  chambers  in  the  Temple,  on  the  7th  of 
September,  apologizes  for  putting  off  the  visit, 
while  it  gives  an  amusing  account  ot  his  summer 
occupations  and  of  the  attacks  of  the  critics  on 
his  History  of  England  : 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR  :  Since  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  you  last,  I  have  been  almost  wholly  in  the 
country,  at  a  farmer's  house,  quite  alone,  trying 
to  write  a  comedy.  It  is  now  finished  ;  but  when 
or  how  it  will  be  acted,  or  whether  it  will  be 
acted  at  all,  are  questions  I  cannot  resolve.  I  am 
therefore  so  much  employed  upon  that,  that  I 
am  under  the  necessity  of  putting  off  my  intended 
visit  to  Lincolnshire  for  this  season.  Reynolds 
is  just  returned  from  Paris,  and  finds  himself  now 
in  the  case  of  a  truant  that  must  make  up  for  his 
idle  time  by  diligence.  We  have  therefore  agreed 
to  postpone  our  journey  till  next  summer,  when 
we  hope  to  have  the  honor  of  waiting  upon  Lady 
Rothes  and  you,  and  staying  double  the  time  of 
our  late  intended  visit.  We  often  meet,  and 
never  without  remembering  you.  I  see  Mr. 
Beauclerc  very  often  both  in  town  and  country. 
He  is  now  going  directly  forward  to  become  a  sec- 
ond Boyle  ;  deep  in  chemistry  and  physics. 
Johnson  has  been  down  on  a  visit  to  a  country 
parson,  Doctor  Taylor  ;  and  is  returned  to  his 
old  haunts  at  Mrs.  Thrale's.  Burke  is  a  farmer, 
en  attendant  a  better  place  ;  but  visiting  about 
too.  Every  soul  is  visiting  about  and  merry  but 
myself.  And  that  is  hard  too,  as  I  have  been  try- 
ing these  three  months  to  do  something  to  make 
people  laugh.  There  have  I  been  strolling  about 
the  hedges,  studying  jests  with  a  most  tragical 
countenance.  The  Natural  History  is  about  half 
finished,  and  I  will  shortly  finish  the  rest.  God 
knows  I  am  tired  of  this  kind  of  finishing,  which 
is  but  bungling  work  ;  and  that  not  so  much  my 
fault  as  the  fault  of  my  scurvy  circumstances. 
They  begin  to  talk  in  town  of  the  Opposition's 
gaining  ground  ;  the  cry  of  liberty  is  still  as  loud 
as  ever.  I  have  published,  or  Davies  has  pub- 
lished for  me,  an  '  Abridgment  of  the  History  of 
England,'  for  which  I  have  been  a  good  deal 


abused  in  the  newspapers,  fof  betraying  the  lib- 
erties of  the  people.  God  knows  I  had  no  thought 
for  or  against  liberty  in  my  head  ;  my  whole  aim 
being  to  make  up  a  book  of  a  decent  size,  that  as 
'Squire  Richard  says,  "ji>ould  do  no  harm  to 
nobody.  However,  they  set  me  down  as  an  arrant 
Tory,  and  consequently  an  honest  man.  When 
you  come  to  look  at  any  part  of  it,  you'll  say  that 
I  am  a  sore  Whig.  God  bless  you,  and  with  my 
most  respectful  compliments  to  her  Ladyship,  I 
remain,  dear  Sir,  your  most  affectionate  humble 
servant, 

"OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

MARRIAGE  OF  LITTLE  COMEDY — GOLDSMITH  AT 
BARTON— PRACTICAL  JOKES  AT  THE  EXPENSE 
OF  HIS  TOILET — AMUSEMENTS  AT  BARTON — 
AQUATIC  MISADVENTURE. 

THOUGH  Goldsmith  found  it  impossible  to  break 
from  his  literary  occupations  to  visit  Bennet  Lang- 
ton,  in  Lincolnshire,  he  soon  yielded  to  attrac- 
tions from  another  quarter,  in  which  somewhat  of 
sentiment  may  have  mingled.  Miss  Catherine 
Horneck,  one  of  his  beautiful  fellow-travellers, 
otherwise  called  Little  Comedy,  had  been  married 
in  August  to  Henry  William  Bunbury,  Esq.,  a 
gentleman  of  fortune,  who  has  become  celebrated 
for  the  humorous  productions  of  his  pencil.  Gold- 
smith was  shortly  afterward  invited  to  pay  the 
newly  married  couple  a  visit  at  their  seat,  at 
Barton,  in  Suffolk.  How  could  he  resist  such  an 
invitation — especially  as  the  Jessamy  Bride 
would,  of  course,  be  among  the  guests  ?  It  is 
true,  he  was  hampered  with  work  ;  he  was  still 
more  hampered  with  debt ;  his  accounts  with 
Newbery  were  perplexed  ;  but  all  must  give  way. 
New  advances  are  procured  from  Newbery,  on 
the  promise  of  a  new  tale  in  the  style  of  the  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,  of  which  he  showed  him  a  few 
roughly-sketched  chapters  ;  so,  his  purse  replen- 
ished in  the  old  way,  "  by  hook  or  by  crook,"  he 
posted  off  to  visit  the  bride  at  Barton.  He  found 
there  a  joyous  household,  and  one  where  he  was 
welcomed  with  affection.  Garrick  was  there, 
and  played  the  part  of  master  of  the  revels,  for 
he  was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  master  of  the 
house.  Notwithstanding  early  misunderstandings, 
a  social  intercourse  between  the  actor  and  the  poet 
had  grown  up  of  late,  from  meeting  together  con- 
tinually in  the  same  circle.  A  tew  particulars 
have  reached  us  concerning  Goldsmith  while  on 
this  happy  visit.  We  believe  the  legend  has  come 
down  from  Miss  Mary  Horneck  herself.  "  While 
at  Barton,"  she  says,  "  his  manners  were  always 
playful  and  amusing,  taking  the  lead  in  promoting 
any  scheme  of  innocent  mirth,  and  usually  prefac- 
ing the  invitation  with  '  Come,  now,  let  us  play 
the  fool  a  little.'  At  cards,  which  was  commonly 
a  round  game,  and  the  stake  small,  he  was  al- 
ways the  most  noisy,  affected  great  eagerness  to 
win,  and  teased  his  opponents  of  the  gentler  sex 
with  continual  jest  and  banter  on  their  want  of 
spirit  in  not  risking  the  hazards  of  the  game. 
But  one  of  his  most  favorite  enjoyments  was  to 
romp  with  the  children,  when  he  threw  off  all  re- 
serve, and  seemed  one  of  the  most  joyous  of  the 
group. 

"  One  of  the  means  by  which  he  amused  us 
was  his  songs,  chiefly  of  the  comic  kind,  which 


242 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


were  sung  with  some  taste  and  humor  ;  several, 
I  believe,  were  of  his  own  composition,  and  I  re- 
gret that  I  neither  have  copies,  which  might  have 
been  readily  procured  from  him  at  the  time,  nor 
do  I  remember  their  names." 

His  perfect  good  humor  made  him  the  object  of 
tricks  of  all  kinds  ;  often  in  retaliation  of  some 
prank  which  he  himself  had  played  off.  Unlucki- 
ly these  tricks  were  sometimes  made  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  toilet,  which,  with  a  view  peradven- 
ture  to  please  the  eye  of  a  certain  fair  lady,  he  had 
again  enriched  to  the  impoverishment  of  his  purse. 
"  Being  at  all  times  gay  in  his  dress,"  says  this 
ladylike  legend,  "  he  made  his  appearance  at  the 
breakfast-table  in  a  smart  black  silk  coat  with  an 
expensive  pair  of  ruffles  ;  the  coat  some  one  con- 
trived to  soil,  and  it  was  sent  to  be  cleansed  ;  but, 
either  by  accident,  or  probably  by  design,  the  day 
after  it  came  home,  the  sleeves  became  daubed 
with  paint,  which  was  not  discovered  until  the 
ruffles  also,  to  his  great  mortification,  were  irre- 
trievably disfigured. 

"  He  always  wore  a  wig,  a  peculiarity  which 
those  who  judge  of  his  appearance  only  from  the 
fine  poetical  head  of  Reynolds  would  not  suspect  ; 
and  on  one  occasion  some  person  contrived  seri- 
ously to  injure  this  important  adjunct  to  dress. 
It  was  the  only  one  he  had  in  the  countiy,  and 
the  misfortune  seemed  irreparable  until  the  ser- 
vices of  Mr.  Bunbury's  valet  were  called  in,  who, 
however,  performed  his  functions  so  indifferently 
that  poor  Goldsmith's  appearance  became  the 
signal  for  a  general  smile." 

This  was  wicked  waggery,  especially  when  it 
was  directed  to  mar  all  the  attempts  of  the  un- 
fortunate poet  to  improve  his  personal  appear- 
ance, about  which  he  was  at  all  times  dubiously 
sensitive,  and  particularly  when  among  the  ladies. 

We  have  in  a  former  chapter  recorded  his  un- 
lucky tumble  into  a  fountain  at  Versailles,  when 
attempting  a  feat  of  agility  in  presence  of  the  fair 
Hornecks.  Water  was  destined  to  be  equally 
baneful  to  him  on  the  present  occasion.  "  Some 
difference  of  opinion,"  says  the  fair  narrator, 
"  having  arisen  with  Lord  Harrington  respecting 
the  depth  of  a  pond,  the  poet  remarked  that  it 
was  not  so  deep  but  that,  if  anything  valuable 
was  to  be  found  at  the  bottom,  he  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  pick  it  up.  His  lordship,  after  some  ban- 
ter, threw  in  a  guinea  ;  Goldsmith,  not  to  be  out- 
done in  this  kind  of  bravado,  in  attempting  to 
fulfil  his  promise  without  getting  wet,  accident- 
ally fell  in,  to  the  amusement  of  all  present,  but 
persevered,  brought  out  the  money,  and  kept  it, 
remarking  that  he  had  abundant  objects  on  whom 
to  bestow  any  farther  proofs  of  his  lordship's 
whim  or  bounty." 

All  this  is  recorded  by  the  beautiful  Mary  Hor- 
neck,  the  Jessamy  Bride  herself ;  but  while  she 
gives  these  amusing  pictures  of  poor  Goldsmith's 
eccentricities,  and  of  the  mischievous  pranks 
played  off  upon  him,  she  bears  unqualified  testi- 
mony, which  we  have  quoted  elsewhere,  to  the 
qualities  of  his  head  and  heart,  which  shone  forth 
in  his  countenance,  and  gained  him  the  love  of 
all  who  knew  him. 

Among  the  circumstances  of  this  visit  vaguely 
called  to  mind  by  this  fair  lady  in  after  years, 
was  that  Goldsmith  read  to  her  and  her  sister  the 
first  part  of  a  novel  which  he  had  in  hand.  It 
was  doubtless  the  manuscript  mentioned  at  the 
beginning  of  this  chapter,  on  which  he  had  ob- 
tained an  advance  of  money  from  Newbery  to 
stave  off  some  pressing  debts,  and  to  provide 
funds  lor  this  very  visit.  It  never  was  finished. 


The  bookseller,  when  he  came  afterward  to  ex- 
amine the  manuscript,  objected  to  it  as  a  mere 
narrative  version  of  the  Good-Natured  Man. 
Goldsmith,  too  easily  put  out  of  conceit  of  his 
writings,  threw  it  aside,  forgetting  that  this  was 
the  very  Newbery  who  kept  his  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  by  him  nearly  two  years  through  doubts  of 
its  success.  The  loss  of  the  manuscript  is  deeply 
to  be  regretted  ;  it  doubtless  would  have  been 
properly  wrought  up  before  given  to  the  press, 
and  might  have  given  us  new  scenes  in  life  and 
traits  of  character,  while  it  could  not  fail  to  bear 
traces  of  his  delightful  style.  What  a  pity  he  had 
not  been  guided  by  the  opinions  of  his  fair  lis- 
teners at  Barton,  instead  of  thai  of  the  astute  Mr. 
Newbery  ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

DINNER  AT  GENERAL  OGLETHORPE'S — ANECDOTES 
OF  THE  GENERAL — DISPUTE  ABOUT  DUELLING 
— GHOST  STORIES. 

WE  have  mentioned  old  General  Oglethorpe  as 
one  of  Goldsmith's  aristocratical  acquaintances. 
This  veteran,  born  in  1698,  had  commenced  life 
early,  by  serving,  when  a  mere  stripling,  under 
Prince  Eugene,  against  the  Turks.  He  had 
continued  in  military  life,  and  been  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  major  general  in  1745,  and  received 
a  command  during  the  Scottish  rebellion.  Being 
of  strong  Jacobite  tendencies,  he  was  suspected 
and  accused  of  favoring  the  rebels  ;  and  though 
acquitted  by  a  court  of  inquiry,  was  never  after- 
ward employed  ;  or,  in  technical  language,  was 
shelved.  He  had  since  been  repeatedly  a  mem- 
ber of  parliament,  and  had  always  distinguished 
himself  by  learning,  taste,  active  benevolence, 
and  high  Tory  principles.  His  name,  however, 
has  become  historical,  chiefly  from  his  transac- 
tions in  America,  and  the  share  he  took  in  the 
settlement  of  the  colony  of  Georgia.  It  lies  em- 
balmed in  honorable  immortality  in  a  single  line 
of  Pope's  : 

"  One,  driven  by  strong  benevolence  of  soul, 
Shall  fly,  like  Oglethorpe,  from  pole  to  pole." 

The  veteran  was  now  seventy-four  years  of  age, 
but  healthy  and  vigorous,  and  as  much  the  preux 
chevalier  as  in  his  younger  days,  when  he  served 
with  Prince  Eugene.  His  table  was  often  the 
gathering-place  of  men  of  talent.  Johnson  was  fre- 
quently there,  and  delighted  in  drawing  from  the 
general  details  of  his  various  "  experiences."  He 
was  anxious  that  he  should  give  the  world  his  life. 
"I  know  no  man,"  said  he,  "whose  life  would 
be  more  interesting."  Still  the  vivacity  of  the 
general's  mind  and  the  variety  of  his  knowledge 
made  him  skip  from  subject  to  subject  too  fast  for 
the  Lexicographer.  "Oglethorpe,"  growled  he, 
"  never  completes  what  he  has  to  say." 

Boswell  gives  us  an  interesting  and  character- 
istic account  of  a  dinner  party  at  the  general's 
(April  loth,  1722),  at  which  Goldsmith  and  John- 
son were  present.  After  dinner,  when  the  cloth 
was  removed,  Oglethorpe,  at  Johnson's  request, 
gave  an  account  of  the  siege  of  Belgrade,  in  the 
true  veteran  style.  Pouring  a  little  wine  upon 
the  table,  he  drew  his  lines  and  parallels  with  a 
wet  finger.'describing  the  positions  of  the  opposing 
forces.  "Herewerewe — here  were  the  Turks," 
to  all  which  Johnson  listened  with  the  most  ear- 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


243 


nest  attention,  poring  over  the  plans  and  diagrams 
with  his  usual  purblind  closeness. 

In  the  course  of  conversation  the  general  gave 
an  anecdote  of  himself  in  early  life,  when  serving 
under  Prince  Eugene.  Sitting  at  table  once  in 
company  with  a  prince  of  Wurtemberg,  the  latter 
gave  a  fillip  to  a  glass  of  wine,  so  as  to  make 
some  of  it  fly  in  Oglethorpe's  face.  The  manner 
in  which  it  was  done  was  somewhat  equivocal. 
How  was  it  to  be  taken  by  the  stripling  officer  ? 
If  seriously,  he  must  challenge  the  prince  ;  but 
in  so  doing  he  might  fix  on  himself  the  character 
of  a  drawcansir.  If  passed  over  without  notice, 
he  might  be  charged  with  cowardice.  His  mind 
was  made  up  in  an  instant.  "  Prince,"  said  he, 
smiling,  "  that  is  an  excellent  joke  ;  but  we  do  it 
much  better  in  England."  So  saying,  he  threw 
a  whole  glass  of  wine  in  the  prince's  face.  "  II  a 
bien  fait,  mon  prince,"  cried  an  old  general  pres- 
ent, "  vouz  1'avez  commence"."  (He  has  done 
right,  my  prince  ;  you  commenced  it.)  The 
prince  had  the  good  sense  to  acquiesce  in  the  de- 
cision of  the  veteran,  and  Oglethorpe's  retort  in 
kind  was  taken  in  good  part. 

It  was  probably  at  the  close  of  this  story  that 
the  officious  Boswell,  ever  anxious  to  promote  con- 
versation for  the  benefit  of  his  note-book,  started 
the  question  whether  duelling  were  consistent 
with  moral  duty.  The  old  general  fired  up  in 
an  instant  "  Undoubtedly,"  said  he,  with  a  lofty 
air  ;  "  undoubtedly  a  man  has  a  right  to  defend 
his  honor."  Goldsmith  immediately  carried  the 
war  into  Boswell's  own  quarters,  and  pinned  him 
with  the  question,  "  what  he  would  do  if  affront- 
ed ?"  The  pliant  Boswell,  who  for  the  moment 
had  the  fear  of  the  general  rather  than  of  Johnson 
before  his  eyes,  replied,  "  he  should  think  it  ne- 
cessary to  fight."  "  Why,  then,  that  solves  the 
question,"  replied  Goldsmith.  "  No,  sir,"  thun- 
dered out  Johnson  ;  "  it  does  not  follow  that  what 
a  man  would  do,  is  therefore  right."  He,  how- 
ever, subsequently  went  into  a  discussion  to  show 
that  there  were  necessities  in  the  case  arising 
out  of  the  artificial  refinement  of  society,  and  its 
proscription  of  any  one  who  should  put  up  with 
an  affront  without  fighting  a  duel.  "  He  then," 
concluded  he,  "  who  fights  a  duel  does  not  fight 
from  passion  against  his  antagonist,  but  out  of 
self-defence,  to  avert  the  stigma  of  the  world,  and 
to  prevent  himself  from  being  driven  out  of  soci- 
ety. I  could  wish  there  were  not  that  superfluity 
of  refinement  ;  but  while  such  notions  prevail, 
no  doubt  a  man  may  lawfully  fight  a  duel." 

Another  question  started  was,  whether  people 
who  disagreed  on  a  capital  point  could  live  to- 
gether in  friendship.  Johnson  said  they  might. 
Goldsmith  said  they  could  not,  as  they  had  not 
the  idem  velle  atque  idem  voile — the  same  likings 
and  aversions.  Johnson  rejoined,  that  they  must 
shun  the  subject  on  which  they  disagreed.  "  But, 
sir,"  said  Goldsmith,  "  when  people  live  together 
who  have  something  as  to  which  they  disagree, 
and  which  they  want  to  shun,  they  will  be  in  the 
situation  mentioned  in  the  story  of  Blue  Beard  : 
'  you  may  look  into  all  the  chambers  but  one  ;' 
but  we  should  have  the  greatest  inclination  to 
look  into  that  chamber,  to  talk  of  that  subject." 
"Sir,"  thundered  Johnson,  in  a  loud  voice,  "I 
am  not  saying  that  you  could  live  in  friendship 
with  a  man  from  whom  you  differ  as  to  some 
point  ,•  I  am  only  saying  that  /could  do  it." 

Who  will  not  say  that  Goldsmith  had  not  the 
best  ot  this  petty  contest  ?  How  just  was  his  re- 
mark !  how  felicitous  the  illustration  of  the  blue 
chamber  !  how  rude  and  overbearing  was  the  ar- 


gumentum  ad  hominem  of  Johnson,  when  he  felt 
that  he  had  the  worst  of  the  argument  ! 

The  conversation  turned  upon  ghosts.  General 
Oglethorpe  told  the  story  of  a  Colonel  Prender- 
gast,  an  officer  in  the  Duke  of  Marlborough's 
army,  who  predicted  among  his  comrades  that 
he  should  die  on  a  certain  day.  The  battle  of 
Malplaquet  took  place  on  that  day.  The  colonel 
was  in  the  midst  of  it  but  came  out  unhurt.  The 
firing  had  ceased,  and  his  brother  officers  jested 
with  him  about  the  fallacy  of  his  prediction. 
"  The  day  is  not  over,"  replied  he,  gravely,"  I 
shall  die  notwithstanding  what  you  see."  His 
words  proved  true.  The  order  for  a  cessation  of 
firing  had  not  reached  one  of  the  French  batter- 
ies, and  a  random  shot  from  it  killed  the  colonel 
on  the  spot.  Among  his  effects  was  found  a 
pocket-book  in  which  he  had  made  a  solemn  en- 
try, that  Sir  John  Friend,  who  had  been  executed 
for  high  treason,  had  appeared  to  him,  either  in 
a  dream  or  vision,  and  predicted  that  he  would 
meet  him  on  a  certain  day  (the  very  day  of  the 
battle).  Colonel  Cecil,  who  took  possession  of 
the  effects  of  Colonel  Prendergast,  and  read  the 
entry  in  the  pocket-book,  told  this  story  to  Pope, 
the  poet,  in  the  presence  of  General  Oglethorpe. 

This  story,  as  related  by  the  general,  appears 
to  have  been  well  received,  if  not  credited,  by 
both  Johnson  and  Goldsmith,  each  of  whom  had 
something  to  relate  in  kind.  Goldsmith's  brother, 
the  clergyman  in  whom  he  had  such  implicit  con- 
fidence, had  assured  him  ot  his  having  seen  an 
apparition.  Johnson  also  had  a  friend,  old  Mr. 
Cave,  the  printer,  at  St.  John's  Gate,  "  an  honest 
man,  and  a  sensible  man,"  who  told  him  he  had 
seen  a  ghost  :  he  did  not,  however,  like  to  talk  of 
it,  and  seemed  to  be  in  great  horror  whenever  it 
was  mentioned.  "And  pray,  Sir,"  asked  Bos- 
well, "what  did  he  say  was  the  appearance?" 
"  Why,  Sir,  something  of  a  shadowy  being." 

The  reader  will  not  be  surprised  at  this  super- 
stitious turn  in  the  conversation  of  such  intelligent 
men,  when  he  recollects  that,  but  a  few  years  be- 
fore this  time,  all  London  had  been  agitated  by 
the  absurd  story  of  the  Cock  Lane  ghost  ;  a  mat- 
ter which  Dr.  Johnson  had  deemed  worthy  of 
his  serious  investigation,  and  about  which  Gold- 
smith had  written  a  pamphlet. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

MR.  JOSEPH  CRADOCK — AN  AUTHOR'S  CONFID- 
INGS — AN  AMANUENSIS — LIFE  AT  EDGEWARE — 
GOLDSMITH  CONJURING — GEORGE  COLMAN — 
THE  FANTOCCINI. 

AMONG  the  agreeable  acquaintances  made  by 
Goldsmith  about  this  time  was  a  Mr.  Joseph  Cra- 
dock,  a  young  gentleman  of  Leicestershire,  living 
at  his  ease,  but  disposed  to  "  make  himself 
uneasy,"  by  meddling  with  literature  and  the  the- 
atre ;  in  fact,  he  had  a  passion  for  plays  and  play- 
ers, and  had  come  up  to  town  with  a  modified 
translation  of  Voltaire's  tragedy  of  Zobeide,  in  a 
view  to  get  it  acted.  There  was  no  great  diffi- 
culty in  the  case,  as  he  was  a  man  of  fortune,  had 
letters  of  introduction  to  persons  of  note,  and 
was  altogether  in  a  different  position  from  the 
indigent  man  of  genius  whom  managers  might 
harass  with  impunity.  Goldsmith  met  him.  at 
the  house  of  Yates,  the  actor,  and  finding  that  he 
was  a  friend  of  Lord  Clare,  soon  became  sociable 


244 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


with  him.  Mutual  tastes  quickened  the  intimacy, 
especially  as  they  found  means  of  serving  each 
other.  Goldsmith  wrote  an  epilogue  for  the  trag- 
edy of  Zobeide ;  and  Cradock,  who  was  an  ama- 
teur musician,  arranged  the  music  for  the  Thre- 
nodia  Augustalis,  a  lament  on  the  death  of  the 
Princess  Dowager  of  Wales,  the  political  mis- 
tress and  patron  of  Lord  Clare,  which  Goldsmith 
had  thrown  off  hastily  to  please  that  nobleman. 
The  tragedy  was  played  with  some  success  at 
Covent  Garden  ;  the  Lament  was  recited  and 
sung  at  Mrs.  Cornelys'  rooms — a  very  fashionable 
resort  in  Soho  Square,  got  up  by  a  woman  of  en- 
terprise of  that  name.  It  was  in  whimsical  parody 
of  those  gay  and  somewhat  promiscuous  assem- 
blages that  Goldsmith  used  to  call  the  motley 
evening  parties  at  his  lodgings  "  little  Cornelys." 

The  Threnodia  Augustalis  was  not  publicly 
known  to  be  by  Goldsmith  until  several  years 
after  his  death. 

Cradock  was  one  of  the  few  polite  intimates 
who  lelt  more  disposed  to  sympathize  with  the 
generous  qualities  of  the  poet  than  to  sport  with 
his  eccentricities.  He  sought  his  society  when- 
ever he  came  to  town,  and  occasionally  had  him 
to  his  seat  in  the  country.  Goldsmith  appreciated 
his  sympathy,  and  unburthened  himself  to  him 
without  reserve.  Seeing  the  lettered  ease  in 
which  this  amateur  author  was  enabled  to  live, 
and  the  time  he  could  bestow  on  the  elaboration 
of  a  manuscript,  "  Ah  !  Mr.  Cradock,"  cried  he, 
"  think  of  me  that  must  write  a  volume  every 
month  !"  He  complained  to  him  of  the  attempts 
made  by  inferior  writers,  and  by  others  who  could 
scarcely  come  under  that  denomination,  not  only 
to  abuse  and  depreciate  his  writings,  but  to  ren- 
der him  ridiculous  as  a  man  ;  perverting  every 
harmless  sentiment  and  action  into  charges  of 
absurdity,  malice,  or  folly.  "  Sir,"  said  he,  in 
the  fulness  of  his  heart,  "  I  am  as  a  lion  bated 
by  curs  !" 

Another  acquaintance  which  he  made  about 
this  time,  was  a  young  countryman  of  the  name 
of  M'Donnell,  whom  he  met  in  a  state  of  destitu- 
tion, and,  of  course,  befriended.  •  The  following 
grateful  recollections  of  his  kindness  and  his  mer- 
its were  furnished  by  that  person  in  after  years  : 

"It  was  in  the  year  1772,"  writes  he,  "that 
the  death  of  my  elder  brother — when  in  London, 
on  my  way  to  Ireland — left  me  in  a  most  forlorn 
situation  ;  I  was  then  about  eighteen  ;  I  possessed 
neither  triends  nor  money,  nor  the  means  of  get- 
ting to  Ireland,  of  which  or  of  England  I  knew 
scarcely  anything,  from  having  so  long  resided 
in  France.  In  this  situation  I  had  strolled  about 
for  -two  or  three  days,  considering  what  to  do, 
but  unable  to  come  to  any  determination,  when 
Providence  directed  me  to  the  Temple  Gardens. 
I  threw  myself  on  a  seat,  .and,  willing  to  forget 
my  miseries  for  a  moment,  drew  ont  a  book  ; 
that  book  was  a  volume  of  Boileau.  I  had  not 
been  there  long  when  a  gentleman,  strolling  about, 
passed  near  me,  and  observing,  perhaps,  some- 
thing Irish  or  foreign  in  my  garb  or  countenance, 
addressed  me  :  *  Sir,  you  seem  studious  ;  I  hope 
you  find  this  a  favorable  place  to  pursue  it.'  '  Not 
very  studious,  sir  ;  I  fear  it  is  the  want  of  society 
that  brings  me  hither  ;  I  am  solitary  and  un- 
known in  this  metropolis  ;'  and  a  passage  from 
Cicero — Oratio  pro  Archia — occurring  to  me,  I 
quoted  it  ;  '  Haec  studia  pronoctant  nobiscum, 
perigrinantur,  rusticantur.'  '  You  are  a  scholar, 
too,  sir,  I  perceive.'  '  A  piece  of  one,  sir  ;  but  I 
ought  still  to  have  been  in  the  college  where  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  pick  up  the  little  I  know.' 


A  good  deal  of  conversation  ensued  ;  I  told  him 
part  of  my  history,  and  he,  in  return,  gave  his 
address  in  the  Temple,  desiring  me  to  call  soon, 
from  which,  to  my  infinite  surprise  and  gratifica- 
tion, I  found  that  the  person  who  thus  seemed  to 
take  an  interest  in  my  fate  was  my  countryman, 
and  a  distinguished  ornament  of  letters. 

"  I  did  not  fail  to  keep  the  appointment,  and 
was  received  in  the  kindest  manner.  He  told 
me,  smilingly,  that  he  was  not  rich  ;  that  he  could 
do  little  forme  in  direct  pecuniary  aid,  but  would 
endeavor  to  put  me  in  the  way  of  doing  some- 
thing for  myself  ;  observing,  that  he  could  at  least 
furnish  me  with  advice  not  wholly  useless  to  a 
young  man  placed  in  the  heart  oi  a  great  metrop- 
olis. '  In  London,'  he  continued,  '  nothing  is  to 
be  got  for  nothing  ;  you  must  work  ;  and  no  man 
who  chooses  to  be  industrious  need  be  under  ob- 
ligations to  another,  for  here  labor  of  every  kind 
commands  its  reward.  If  you  think  proper  to  as- 
sist me  occasionally  as  amanuensis,  I  shall  be 
obliged,  and  you  will  be  placed  under  no  obliga- 
tion, until  something  more  permnent  can  be  se- 
cured for  you.'  This  employment,  which  I  pur- 
sued for  some  time,  was  to  translate  passages  from 
Buffon,  which  was  abridged  or  altered,  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  for  his  Natural  History." 

Goldsmith's  literary  tasks  were  fast  getting 
ahead  of  him,  and  he  began  now  to  "  toil  after 
them  in  vain." 

Five  volumes  of  the  Natural  History  here  spo- 
ken of  had  long  since  been  paid  for  by  Mr.  Griffin, 
yet  most  of  them  were  still  to  be  written.  His 
young  amanuensis  bears  testimony  to  his  embar- 
rassments and  perplexities,  but  to  the  degree  of 
equanimity  with  which  he  bore  them  : 

"  It  has  been  said,"  observes  he,  "  that  he  was 
irritable.  Such  may  have  been  the  case  at  times  ; 
nay,  I  believe  it  was  so  ;  for  what  with  the  con- 
tinual pursuit  of  authors,  printers,  and  booksellers, 
and  occasional  pecuniary  embarrassments,  few 
could  have  avoided  exhibiting  similar  marks  of 
impatience.  But  it  was  never  so  toward  me.  I 
saw  him  only  in  his  bland  and  kind  moods,  with 
a  flow,  perhaps  an  overflow,  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  for  all  who  were  in  any  manner  depend- 
ent upon  him.  I  looked  upon  him  with  awe  and 
veneration,  and  he  upon  me  as  a  kind  parent  upon 
a  child. 

"  His  manner  and  address  exhibited  much 
frankness  and  cordiality,  particularly  to  those 
with  whom  he  possessed  any  degree  of  intimacy. 
His  good-nature  was  equally  apparent.  You 
could  not  dislike  the  man,  although  several  of  his 
follies  and  foibles  you  might  be  tempted  to  con- 
demn. He  was  generous  and  inconsiderate  ; 
money  with  him  had  little  value." 

To  escape  from  many  of  the  tormentors  just  al- 
luded to,  and  to  devote  himself  without  interrup- 
tion to  his  task,  Goldsmith  took  lodgings  for  the 
summer  at  a  farm-house  near  the  six-mile  stone 
on  the  Edgeware  road,  and  carried  clown  his 
books  in  two  return  post-chaises.  He  used  to  say 
he  believed  the  farmer's  family  thought  him  an 
odd  character,  similar  to  that  in  which  the  Spec- 
tator appeared  to  his  landlady  and  her  children  : 
he  was  The  Gentleman.  Boswell  tells  us  that  he 
went  to  visit  him  at  the  place  in  company  with 
Mickle,  translator  of  the  Lusiad.  Goldsmith  was 
not  at  home.  Having  a  curiosity  to  see  his  apart- 
ment, however,  they  went  in,  and  found  curious 
scraps  of  descriptions  of  animals  scrawled  upon 
the  wall  with  a  black  lead  pencil. 

The  farm-house  in  question  is  still  in  existence, 
though  much  altered.  It  stands  upon  a  gentle 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


245 


eminence  in  Hyde  Lane,  commanding  a  pleasant 
prospect  toward  Hendon.  The  room  is  still  point- 
ed out  in  which  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  was 
•written  ;  a  convenient  and  airy  apartment,  up  one 
flight  of  stairs. 

Some  matter  of  fact  traditions  concerning  the 
author  were  furnished,  a  few  years  since,  by  a 
son  of  the  farmer,  who  was  sixteen  years  of  age 
at  the  time  Goldsmith  resided  with  his  father. 
Though  he  had  engaged  to  board  with  the  family, 
his  meals  were  generally  sent  to  him  in  his  room, 
in  which  he  passed  the  most  of  his  time,  negli- 
gently dressed,  with  his  bhirt  collar  open,  busily 
engaged  in  writing.  Sometimes,  probably  when 
in  moods  of  composition,  he  would  wander  into  the 
kitchen,  without  noticing  any  one,  stand  musing 
with  his  back  to  the  fire,  and  then  hurry  off  again 
to  his  room,  no  doubt  to  commit  to  paper  some 
thought  which  had  struck  him. 

Sometimes  he  strolled  about  the  fields,  or  was 
to  be  seen  loitering  and  reading  and  musing  under 
the  hedges.  He  was  subject  to  fits  of  wakefulness 
and  read  much  in  bed  ;  if  not  disposed  to  read, 
he  still  kept  the  candle  burning  ;  if  he  wished  to 
extinguish  it,  and  it  was  out  of  his  reach,  he  flung 
his  slipper  at  it,  which  would  be  found  in  the 
morning  near  the  overturned  candlestick  and 
daubed  with  grease.  He  was  noted  here,  as 
everywhere  else,  for  his  charitable  feelings.  No 
beggar  applied  to  him  in  vain,  and  he  evinced  on 
all  occasions  great  commiseration  for  the  poor. 

He  had  the  use  of  the  parlor  to  receive  and  en- 
tertain company,  and  was  visited  by  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  Hugh  Boycl,  the  reputed  author  of 
"Junius,"  Sir  William  Chambeis,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished characters.  He  gave  occasionally, 
though  rarely,  a  dinner  party  ;  and  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  his  guests  were  detained  by  a  thunder 
shower,  he  got  up  a  dance,  and  carried  the  mer- 
riment late  into  the  night. 

As  usual,  he  was  the  promoter  of  hilarity  among 
the  young,  and  atone  time  took  the  children  of  the 
house  to  see  a  company  of  strolling  players  at 
Hendon.  The  greatest  amusement  to  the  party, 
however,  was  derived  from  his  own  jokes  on  the 
road  and  his  comments  on  the  performance, 
which  produced  infinite  laughter  among  his 
youthful  companions. 

Near  to  his  rural  retreat  at  Edgeware,  a  Mr. 
Seguin,  an  Irish  merchant,  of  literary  tastes,  had 
country  quarters  for  his  family,  where  Goldsmith 
was  always  welcome. 

In  this  family  he  would  ,  indulge  in  playful  and 
even  grotesque  humor,  and  was  ready  for  any- 
thing— conversation,  music,  or  a  game  of  romps. 
He  prided  himself  upon  his  dancing,  and  would 
walk  a  minuet  with  Mrs.  Seguin,  to  the  infinite 
amusement  of  herself  and  the  children,  whose 
shouts  of  laughter  he  bore  with  perfect  good- 
humor.  He  would  sing  Irish  songs,  and  the 
Scotch  ballad  of  Johnny  Armstrong.  He  took 
the  lead  in  the  children's  sports  of  blind  man's 
buff,  hunt  the  slipper,  etc.,  or  in  their  games  at 
cards,  and  was  the  most  noisy  of  the  party,  affect- 
ing to  cheat  and  to  be  excessively  eager  to  win  ; 
while  with  children  of  smaller  size  he  would  turn 
the  hind  part  of  his  wig  before,  and  play  all  kinds 
of  tricks  to  amuse  them. 

One  word  as  to  his  musical  skill  and  his  per- 
formance on  the  flute,  which  comes  up  so  in- 
variably in  all  his  fireside  revels.  He  really  knew 
nothing  of  music  scientifically  ;  he  had  a  good 
ear,  and  may  have  played  sweetly  ;  but  we  are 
told  he  could  not  read  a  note  of  music.  Roubil- 
lac,  the  statuary,  once  played  a  trick  upon  him 


in  this  respect.  He  pretended  to  score  down  an 
air  as  the  poet  played  it,  but  put  down  crotchets 
and  semi-breves  at  random.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished, Goldsmith  cast  his  eyes  over  it  and  pro- 
nounced it  correct  !  It  is  possible  that  his  execu- 
tion in  music  was  like  his  style  in  writing  ;  in 
sweetness  and  melody  he  may  have  snatched  a 
grace  beyond  the  reach  of  art  ! 

He  was  at  all  times  a  capital  companion  for 
children,  and  knew  how  to  fall  in  with  their 
humors.  "  I  little  thought,"  said  Miss  Hawkins, 
the  woman  grown,  "  what  I  should  have  to  boast, 
when  Goldsmith  taught  me  to  play  Jack  and  Jill 
by  two  bits  of  paper  on  his  fingers."  He  enter- 
tained Mrs.  Garrick,  we  are  told,  with  a  whole 
budget  of  stories  and  songs  ;  delivered  the  "Chim- 
ney Sweep"  with  exquisite  taste  as  a  solo  ;  and 
performed  a  duet  with  Garrick  of  "  Old  Rose  and 
Burn  the  Bellows." 

"  I  was  only  five  years  old,"  says  the  late 
George  Colman,  "  when  Goldsmith  one  evening, 
when  drinking  coffee  with  my  father,  took  me 
on  his  knee  and  began  to  play  with  me,  which 
amiable  act  I  returned  with  a  very  smart  slap  in 
the  face  ;  it  must  have  been  a  tingler,  for  I  left 
the  marks  of  my  little  spiteful  paw  upon  his 
cheek.  This  infantile  outrage  was  followed  by 
summary  justice,  and  I  was  locked  up  by  my 
father  in  an  adjoining  room,  to  undergo  solitary 
imprisonment  in  the  dark.  Here  I  began  to 
howl  and  scream  most  abominably.  At  length  a 
friend  appeared  to  extricate  me  from  jeopardy  ; 
it  was  the  good-natured  doctor  himself,  with  a 
lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  and  a  smile  upon  his 
countenance,  which  was  still  partially  red  from  the 
effects  of  my  petulance.  I  sulked  and  sobbed,  and 
he  fondled  arid  soothed  until  I  began  to  brighten. 
He  seized  the  propitious  moment,  placed  three 
hats  upon  the  carpet,  and  a  shilling  under  each  ; 
the  shillings,  he  told  me,  were  England,  France, 
and  Spain.  '  Hey,  presto,  cockolorum  !  '  cried 
the  doctor,  and,  lo  !  on  uncovering  the  shillings, 
they  were  all  found  congregated  under  one.  I 
was  no  politician  at  the  time,  and  therefore  might 
not  have  wondered  at  the  sudden  revolution 
which  brought  England,  France,  and  Spam  all 
under  one  crown  ;  but,  as  I  was  also  no  conjurer, 
it  amazed  me  beyond  measure.  From  that  time, 
whenever  the  doctor  came  to  visit  my  father, 

"  I  pluck'd  his  gown  to  share  the  good  man's  smile  :" 

a  game  of  romps  constantly  ensued,  and  we  were 
always  cordial  friends  and  merry  playfellows." 

Although  Goldsmith  made  the  Edgeware  farm- 
house  his  headquarters  for  the  summer,  he  would 
absent  himself  for  weeks  at  a  time  on  visits  to  Mr. 
Cradock,  Lord  Clare,  and  Mr.  Langton,  at  thejr 
country-seats.  He  would  often  visit  town,  also, 
to  dine  and  partake  of  the  public  amusements. 
On  one  occasion  he  accompanied  Edmund  Burke 
to  witness  a  performance  of  the  Italian  Fantoccini 
or  Puppets,  in  Panton  Street  ;  an  exhibition  which 
had  hit  the  caprice  of  the  town,  and  was  in  great 
vogue.  The  puppets  were  set  in  motion  by  wires, 
so  well  concealed  as  to  be  with  difficulty  detected. 
Boswell,  with  his  usual  obtuseness  with  respect 
to  Goldsmith,  accuses  him  of  being  jealous  of  the 
puppets  !  "  When  Burke,"  said  he,  "  praised 
the  dexterity  with  which  one  of  them  tossed  a 
pike,"  '  Pshaw,'  said  Goldsmith  with  some 
warmth,  '  I  can  do  it  better  myself.'  "  "The 
same'  evening,"  adds  Boswell,  "  when  supping  at 
Burke's  lodgings,  he  broke  his  shin  by  attempting 
to  exhibit  to  the  company  how  much  better  he 
could  jump  over  a  stick  than  the  puppets.". 


246 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


Goldsmith  jealous  of  puppets  !  This  even  passes 
in  absurdity  Bosvvell's  charge  upon  him  of  being 
jealous  of  the  beauty  of  the  two  Miss  Hornecks. 

The  Panton  Street  puppets  were  destined  to  be 
a  source  of  further  amusement  to  the  town,  and 
of  annoyance  to  the  little  autocrat  of  the  stage. 
Foote,  the  Aristophanes  of  the  English  drama, 
who  was  always  on  the  alert  to  turn  every  subject 
of  popular  excitement  1o  account,  seeing  the  suc- 
cess of  the  Fantoccini,  gave  out  that  he  should 
produce  a  Primitive  Puppet-show  at  the  Hay- 
market,  to  be  entitled  The  Handsome  Chamber- 
maid, or  Piety  in  Pattens  :  intended  to  burlesque 
the  sentimental  comedy  which  Garrick  still  main- 
tained at  Drury  Lane.  The  idea  of  a  play  to  be 
performed  in  a  regular  theatre  by  puppets  excited 
the  curiosity  and  talk  of  the  town.  "  Will  your 
puppets  be  as  large  as  life,  Mr.  Foote  ?"  de- 
manded a  lady  of  rank.  "  Oh,  no,  my  lady  ;" 
replied  Foote,  "  not  much  larger  than  Garrick." 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

BROKEN  HEALTH — DISSIPATION  AND  DEBTS — 
THE  IRISH  WIDOW — PRACTICAL  JOKES — SCRUB 
— A  MISQUOTED  PUN  —  MALAGRIDA  —  GOLD- 
SMITH PROVED  TO  BE  A  FOOL — DISTRESSED 
BALLAD  SINGERS — THE  POET  AT  RANELAGH. 

GOLDSMITH  returned  to  town  in  the  autumn 
(1772),  with  his  health  much  disordered.  His 
close  fits  of  sedentary  application,  during  which 
he  in  a  manner  tied  himself  to  the  mast,  had  laid 
the  seeds  of  a  lurking  malady  in  his  system,  and 
produced  a  severe  illness  in  the  course  of  the  sum- 
mer. Town  life  was  not  favorable  to  the  health 
either  of  body  or  mind.  He  cuuld  not  resist  the 
siren  voice  of  temptation,  which,  now  that  he  had 
become  a  notoriety,  assailed  him  on  every  side. 
Accordingly  we  find  him  launching  away  in  a 
career  of  social  dissipation  ;  dining  and  supping 
out  ;  at  clubs,  at  routs,  at  theatres  ;  he  is  a  guest 
•with  Johnson  at  the  Thrales,  and  an  object  of 
Mrs.  Thrale's  lively  sallies  ;  he  is  a  lion  at  Mrs. 
Vesey's  and  Mrs.  Montagu's,  where  some  of  the 
high-bred  blue-stockings  pronounce  him  a  "wild 
genius,"  and  others,  peraclventure,  a  "  wild  Irish- 
man." In  the  meantime  his  pecuniary  difficulties 
are  increasing  upon  him,  conflicting  with  his 
proneness  to  pleasure  and  expense,  and  con- 
tributing by  the  harassment  of  his  mind  to  the 
wear  and  tear  of  his  constitution.  His  "  An- 
imated Nature"  though  not  finished,  had  been 
entirely  paid  for,  and  the  money  spent.  The 
money  advanced  by  Garrick  on  Newbery's  note 
still  hangs  over  him  as  a  debt.  The  tale  on  which 
Newbery  had  loaned  from  two  to  three  hundred 
pounds  previous  to  the  excursion  to  Barton  has 
proved  a  failure.  The  bookseller  is  urgent  for 
the  settlement  of  his  complicated  account  ;  the 
perplexed  author  has  nothing  to  offer  him  in 
liquidation  but  the  copyright  of  the  comedy  which 
he  has  in  his  portfolio  ;  "  Though  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  Frank,"  said  he,  there  are  great  doubts  of 
its  success."  The  offer  was  accepted,  and,  like 
bargains  wrung  from  Goldsmith  in  times  of 
emergency,  turned  out  a  golden  speculation  to  the 
bookseller. 

In  this  way  Goldsmith  went  on  overrunning  the 
constable,"  as  he  termed  it ;  spending  everything 
in  advance  ;  working  with  an  overtasked  head  and 


weary  heart  to  pay  for  past  pleasures  and  past 
extravagance,  and  at  the  same  time  incurring 
new  debts,  to  perpetuate  his  struggles  and 
darken  his  future  prospects.  While  the  excite- 
ment of  society  and  the  excitement  of  composi- 
tion conspire  to  keep  up  a  feverishness  of  the  sys- 
tem, he  has  incurred  an  unfortunate  habit  of 
quacking  himself  with  James'  powders,  a  fash- 
ionable panacea  of  the  day. 

A  farce,  produced  this  year  by  Garrick,  and 
entitled  The  Irish  Widow,  perpetuates  the 
memory  of  practical  jokes  played  off  A  year  or 
two  previously  upon  the  alleged  vanity  of  poor, 
simple-hearted  Goldsmith.  He  was  one  evening 
at  the  house  of  his  friend  Burke,  when  he  was 
beset  by  a  tenth  muse,  an  Irish  widow  and  au- 
thoress, just  arrived  from  Ireland,  full  of  brogue 
and  blunders,  and  poetic  fire  and  rantipole  gen- 
tility. She  was  soliciting  subscriptions  for  her 
poems  ;  and  assailed  Goldsmith  for  his  patron- 
age ;  the  great  Goldsmith — her  countryman,  and 
of  course  her  friend.  She  overpowered  him  with 
eulogiums  on  his  own  poems,  and  then  read  some 
of  her  own,  with  vehemence  of  tone  and  gesture, 
appealing  continually  to  the  great  Goldsmith  to 
know  how  he  relished  them. 

Poor  Goldsmith  did  all  that  a  kind-hearted  and 
gallant  gentleman  could  do  in  such  a  case  ;  he 
praised  her  poems  as  far  as  the  stomach  of  his 
sense  would  permit  :  perhaps  a  little  further  ;  he 
offered  her  his  subscription,  and  it  was  not  until 
she  had  retired  with  many  parting  compliments 
to  the  great  Goldsmith,  that  he  pronounced  the 
poetry  which  had  been  inflicted  on  him  execrable. 
The  whole  scene  had  been  a  hoax  got  up  by 
Burke  for  the  amusement  of  his  company,  and  the 
Irish  widow,  so  admirably  performed,  had  been 
personated  by  a  Mrs.  Balfour,  a  lady  of  his  con- 
nection, of  great  sprightliness  and  talent. 

We  see  nothing  in  the  story  to  establish  the 
alleged  vanity  of  Goldsmith,  but  we  think  it  tells 
rather  to  the  disadvantage  of  Burke  ;  being  un- 
warrantable under  their  relations  of  friendship, 
and  a  species  of  waggery  quite  beneath  his  genius. 
Croker,  in  his  notes  to  Boswell,  gives  another  of 
these  practical  jokes  perpetrated  by  Burke  at  the 
expense  of  Goldsmith's  credulity.  It  was  related 
to  Croker  by  Colonel  O' Moore,  of  Cloghan  Castle, 
in  Ireland,  who  was  a  party  concerned.  The 
colonel  and  Burke,  walking  one  day  through 
Leicester  Square  on  their  way  to  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds's,  with  whom  they  were  to  dine,  observed 
Goldsmith,  who  was  likewise  to  be  a  guest,  stand- 
ing and  regarding  a  crowd  which  was  staring 
and  shouting  at  some  foreign  ladies  in  the  window 
of  a  hotel.  "  Observe  Goldsmith,"  said  Burke  to 
O' Moore,  and  mark  what  passes  between  us  at 
Sir  Joshua's."  They  passed  on  and  reached  there 
before  him.  Burke  received  Goldsmith  with 
affected  reserve  and  coldness;  being  pressed  to 
explain  the  reason,  "  Really,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
ashamed  to  keep  company  with  a  person  who 
could  act  as  you  have  just  done  in  the  Square." 
Goldsmith  protested  he  was  ignorant  of  what  was 
meant.  "  Why,"  said  Burke,  "  did  you  not  ex- 
claim as  you  were  looking  up  at  those  women, 
what  stupid  beasts  the  crowd  must  be  for  staring 
with  such  admiration  at  those  painted  Jezebels, 
while  a  man  of  your  talents  passed  by  unno- 
ticed ?"  "  Surely,  surely,  my  dear  friend,"  cried 
Goldsmith,  with  alarm,  "surely  I  did  not  say  so  ?" 
"  Nay,"  replied  Burke,  "  if  you  had  not  said  so, 
how  should  I  have  known  it  ?"  "  That's  true," 
answered  Goldsmith,  "  I  am  very  sorry— it  was 
very  foolish  ;  /  do  recollect  that  something  of 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


247 


the  kind  passed  through  my  mind,  but  I  did  not 
think  I  had  uttered  it. ' ' 

It  is  proper  to  observed  that  these  jokes  were 
played  off  by  Burke  before  he  had  attained  the 
full  eminence  of  his  social  position,  and  that  he 
may  have  felt  privileged  to  take  liberties  with 
Goldsmith  as  his  countryman  and  college  associ- 
ate. It  is  evident,  however,  that  the  peculiarities 
of  the  latter,  and  his  guileless  simplicity,  made 
him  a  butt  for  the  broad  waggery  of  some  ot  his 
associates  ;  while  others  more  polished,  though 
equally  perfidious,  are  on  the  watch  to  give  cur- 
rency to  his  bulls  and  blunders. 

The  Stratford  jubilee,  in  honor  ot  Shakespeare, 
where  Boswell  had  made  a  fool  of  himself,  was 
still  in  every  one's  mind.  It  was  sportively  sug- 
gested that  a  fete  should  be  held  at  Lichfield  in 
honor  of  Johnson  and  Garrick,  and  that  the 
Beaux'  Stratagem  should  be  played  by  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Literary  Club.  "  Then,"  exclaimed 
Goldsmith,  "  I  shall  certainly  play  Scrub.  I 
should  like  of  all  things  to  try  my  hand  at  that 
character."  The  unwary  speech,  which  any  one 
else  might  have  made  without  comment,  has 
been  thought  worthy  of  record  as  whimsically 
characteristic.  Beauclerc  was  extremely  apt  to 
circulate  anecdotes  at  his  expense,  founded  per- 
haps on  some  trivial  incident,  but  dressed  up 
with  the  embellishments  of  his  sarcastic  brain. 
One  relates  to  a  venerable  dish  of  peas,  served 
up  at  Sir  Joshua's  table,  which  should  have  been 
green,  but  were  any  other  color.  A  wag  sug- 
gested to  Goldsmith,  in  a  whisper,  that  they 
should  be  sent  to  Hammersmith,  as  that  was  the 
way  to  turn-em-green  (Turnham-Green).  Gold- 
smith, delighted  with  the  pun,  endeavored  to  re- 
peat it  at  Burke's  table,  but  missed  the  point. 
'That  is  the  way  to  make  'em  green,"  said  he. 
Nobody  laughed.  He  perceived  he  was  at  fault. 
"  I  mean  that  is  the  road  to  turn  'em  green."  A 
dead  pause  and  a  stare  ;  "  whereupon,"  adds 
Beauclerc,  "  he  started  up  disconcerted  and 
abruptly  left  the  table."  This  is  evidently  one  of 
Beauclerc's  caricatures. 

On  another  occasion  the  poet  and  Beauclerc 
were  seated  at  the  theatre  next  to  Lord  Shelburne, 
the  minister,  whom  political  writers  thought  proper 
to  nickname  Malagrida.  "  Do  you  know,"  said 
Goldsmith  to  his  lordship,  in  the  course  of  con- 
versation, "  that  I  never  could  conceive  why  they 
called  you  Malagrida,  for  Malagrida  was  a  very 
good  sort  ot  man."  This  was  too  good  a  trip  of 
the  tongue  for  Beauclerc  to  let  pass  :  he  serves  it 
up  in  his  next  letter  to  Lord  Charlemont,  as  a 
specimen  of  a  mode  of  turning  a  thought  the 
wrong  way,  peculiar  to  the  poet;  he  makes  merry 
over  it  with  his  witty  and  sarcastic  compeer,  Hor- 
ace Walpole,  who  pronounces  it  "  a  picture  of 
Goldsmith's  whole  life."  Dr.  Johnson  alone, 
when  he  hears  it  bandied  about  as  Goldsmith's 
last  blunder,  growls  forth  a  friendly  defence  : 
"Sir,"  said  he,  "  it  was  a  mere  blunder  in  em- 
phasis. He  meant  to  say,  I  wonder  they  should 
use  Malagrida  as  a  term  ot  reproach."  Poor 
Goldsmith  !  On  such  points  he  was  ever  doomed 
to  be  misinterpreted.  Rogers,  the  poet,  meeting 
in  times  long  subsequent  with  a  survivor  of  those 
days,  asked  him  what  Goldsmith  really  was  in 
conversation.  .  The  old  conversational  character 
was  too  deeply  stamped  in  the  memory  of  the 
veteran  to  be  effaced.  "Sir,"  replied  the  old 
wiseacre,  "  he  was  a  fool.  The  right  word  never 
came  to  him.  If  you  gave  him  back  a  bad  shilling, 
he'd  say,  Why,  it's  as  good,  a  shilling  as  ever  was 
born.  You  know  he  ought  to  have  said  coined. 


Coined,  sir,  never  entered  his  head.  He  was  & 
fool,  sir." 

We  have  so  many  anecdotes  in  which  Gold- 
smith's  simplicity  is  played  upon,  that  it  is  quite 
a  treat  to  meet  with  one  in  which  he  is  represent- 
ed playing  upon  the  simplicity  of  others,  especially 
when  the  victim  of  his  joke  is  the  "  Great  Cham" 
himself,  whom  all  others  are  disposed  to  hold  so 
much  in  awe.  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  were  sup- 
ping cosily  together  at  a  tavern  in  Dean  Street, 
Soho,  kept  by  Jack  Roberts,  a  singer  at  Drury 
Lane,  and  a  protege"  of  Garrick's.  Johnson  de- 
lighted in  these  gastronomical  tete-a-tetes,  and 
was  expatiating  in  high  good  humor  on  rumps  and 
kidneys,  the  veins  of  his  lorehead  swelling  with 
the  ardor  of  mastication.  "These,"  said  he, 
"  are  pretty  little  things  ;  but  a  man  must  eat  a 
great  many  of  them  before  he  is  filled."  "  Aye  ; 
but  how  many  of  them,"  asked  Goldsmith,  with 
affected  simplicity,  "would  reach  to  the  moon  ?" 
"  To  the  moon  !  Ah,  sir,  that  I  fear,  exceeds 
your  calculation."  "  Not  at  all,  sir  ;  I  think  I 
could  tell."  "  Pray,  then,  sir,  let  us  hear." 
"  WThy,  sir,  one,  if  it  were  long  enough  .'"  John- 
son growled  for  a  time  at  finding  himself  caught 
in  such  a  trite  schoolboy  trap.  "  Well,  sir,"  cried 
he  at  length,  "  I  have  deserved  it.  I  should  not 
have  provoked  so  foolish  an  answer  by  so  foolish 
aquestion." 

Among  the  many  incidents  related  as  illustra- 
tive of  Goldsmith's  vanity  and  envy  is  one  which 
occurred  one  evening  when  he  was  in  a  drawing- 
room  with  a  party  of  ladies,  and  a  ballad-singer 
under  the  window  struck  up  his  favorite  song  of 
"  Sally  Salisbury."  "  How  miserably  this  woman 
sings  !"  exclaimed  he.  "  Pray,  doctor,"  said 
the  lady  ol  the  house,  "  could  you  do  it  better  ?" 
"  Yes,  madam,  and  the  company  shall  be  judges." 
The  company,  of  course,  prepared  to  be  entertain- 
ed by  an  absurdity  ;  but  their  smiles  were  well- 
nigh  turned  to  tears,  for  he  acquitted  himself  with  a 
skill  and  pathos  that  drew  universal  applause.  He 
had,  in  fact,  a  delicate  ear  for  music,  which  had 
been  jarred  by  the  false  notes  of  the  ballad-singer  ; 
and  there  were  certain  pathetic  ballads,  associ- 
ated with  recollections  of  his  childhood,  which 
were  sure  to  touch  the  springs  of  his  heart.  We 
have  another  story  of  him,  connected  with  ballad- 
singing,  which  is  still  more  characteristic.  He 
was  one  evening  at  the  house  of  Sir  William 
Chambers,  in  Berners  Street,  seated  at  a  whist 
table  with  Sir  William,  Lady  Chambers,  and 
Baretti,  when  all  at  once  he  threw  down  his  cards, 
hurried  out  of  the  room  and  into  the  street.  He 
returned  in  an  instant,  resumed  his  seat,  and  the 
game  went  on.  Sir  \Villiam,  after  a  little  hesita- 
tion, ventured  to  ask  the  cause  of  his  retreat,  fear- 
ing he  had  been  overcome  by  the  heat  of  the 
room.  "  Not  at  all,"  replied  Goldsmith  ;  "  but 
in  truth  I  could  not  bear  to  hear  that  unfortunate 
woman  in  the  street,  half  singing,  half  sobbing, 
for  such  tones  could  only  arise  from  the  extremity 
of  distress  ;  her  voice  grated  painfully  on  my  ear 
and  jarred  my  frame,  so  that  I  could  not  rest 
until  I  had  sent  her  away."  It  was  in  fact  a  poor 
ballad-singer,  whose  cracked  voice  had  been 
heard  by  others  of  the  party,  but  without  having 
the  same  effect  on  their  sensibilities.  It  was  the 
reality  of  his  fictitious  scene  in  the  story  of  the 
"  Man  in  Black  ;"  wherein  he  describes  a  woman 
in  rags  with  one  child  in  her  arms  and  another  on 
her  back,  attempting  to  sing  ballads,  but  with 
such  a  mournful  voice  that  it  was  difficult  to  de- 
termine whether  she  was  singing  or  crying.  "  A 
wretch,"  he  adds,  "  who,  in  the  deepest  distress^; 


248 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


still  aimed  at  good  humor,  was  an  object  my 
friend  was  by  no  means  capable  of  withstanding." 
The  Man  in  Black  gave  the  poor  woman  all  that 
he  had — a  bundle  of  matches.  Goldsmith,  it  is 
probable,  sent  his  ballad-singer  away  rejoicing 
with  all  the  money  in  his  pocket. 

Ranelagh  was  at  that  time  greatly  in  vogue  as 
a  place  of  public  entertainment.  It  was  situated 
near  Chelsea  ;  the  principal  room  was  a  rotunda 
of  great  dimensions,  with  an  orchestra  in  the  cen- 
tre, and  tiers  of  boxes  all  round.  It  was  a  place 
to  which  Johnson  resorted  occasionally.  "  lam  a 
great  friend  to  public  amusements,"  said  he,  for 
they  keep  people  from  vice."  *  Goldsmith  was 
equally  a  friend  to  them,  though  perhaps  not  alto- 
gether on  such  moral  grounds.  He  was  particu- 
larly fond  of  masquerades,  which  were  then  ex- 
ceedingly popular,  and  got  up  at  Ranelagh  with 
great  expense  and  magnificence.  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, who  had  likewise  a  taste  for  such  amuse- 
ments, was  sometimes  his  companion,  at  other 
times  he  went  alone  ;  his  peculiarities  of  person 
and  manner  would  soon  betray  him,  whatever 
might  be  his  disguise,  and  he  would  be  singled 
out  by  wags,  acquainted  with  his  foibles,  and 
more  successful  than  himself  in  maintaining  their 
incognito,  as  a  capital  subject  to  be  played  upon. 
Some,  pretending  not  to  know  him,  would  decry 
his  writings,  and  praise  those  of  his  contem- 
poraries ;  others  would  laud  his  veises  to  the 
skies,  but  purposely  misquote  and  burlesque 
them  ;  others  would  annoy  him  with  parodies  ; 
while  one  young  lady,  whom  he  was  teasing,  as 
he  supposed,  with  great  success  and  infinite 
humor,  silenced  his  rather  boisterous  laughter  by 
quoting  his  own  line  about  "the  loud  laugh  that 
speaks  the  vacant  mind."  On  one  occasion  he 
was  absolutely  driven  out  of  the  house  by  the 
persevering  jokes  of  a  wag,  whose  complete  dis- 
guise gave  him  no  means  of  retaliation. 

His  name  appearing  in  the  newspapers  among 
the  distinguished  persons  present  at  one  of  these 
amusements,  his  old  enemy,  Kenrick,  immedi- 
ately addressed  to  him  a  copy  of  anonymous 
verses,  to  the  following  purport. 

To  Dr.  Goldsmith  ;  on  seeing  his  name  in  the 
list  of  mummers  at  the  late  masquerade  : 

"  How  widely  different.  Goldsmith,  are  the  ways 
Of  Doctors  now,  and  those  of  ancient  days  ! 
Theirs  taught  the  truth  in  academic  shades. 
Ours  in  lewd  hops  and  midnight  masquerades. 
So  changed  the  times  !  say,  philosophic  sage, 
Whose  genius  suits  so  well  this  tasteful  age, 
Is  the  Pantheon,  late  a  sink  obscene. 
Become  the  fountain  of  chaste  Hippocrene  ? 
Or  do  thy  moral  numbers  quaintly  flow, 
Inspired  by  th'  Aganippe  of  Soho  ' 
Do  wisdom's  sons  gorge  cates  and  vermicelli, 
Like  beastly  Bickerstaffe  or  bothering  Kelly  ? 
Or  art  thou  tired  of  th'  undeserved  applause 
Bestowed  on  bards  affecting  Virtue's  cause  ? 
Is  this  the  good  that  makes  the  humble  vain, 
The  good  philosophy  should  not  disdain  ? 


*  "Alas,  sir!"  said  Johnson,  speaking,  when  in 
another  mood,  of  grand  houses,  fine  gardens,  and 
splendid  places  of  public  amusement  ;  "  alas,  sir  ! 
these  are  only  struggles  for  happiness.  When  I  first 
entered  Ranelagh  it  gave  an  expansion  and  gay  sen- 
sation to  my  mind,  such  as  I  never  experienced  any- 
where else.  But,  as  Xerxes  wept  when  he  viewed 
his  immense  army,  and  considered  that  not  one  of 
that  great  multitude  would  be  alive  a  hundred  years 
afterward,  so  it  went  to  my  heart  to  consider  that 
there  was  not  one  in  all  that  brilliant  circle  that  was 
cot  afraid  to  go  home  and  think." 


If  so,  let  pride  dissemble  all  it  can, 

A  modern  sage  is  still  much  less  than  man." 

Goldsmith  was  keenly  sensitive  to  attacks  of  the 
kind,  and  meeting  Kenrick  at  the  Chapter  Coffee- 
house, called  him  to  sharp  account  for  taking  such 
a  liberty  with  his  name,  and  calling  his  morals  in 
question,  merely  on  account  of  his  being  seen  at 
a  place  of  general  resort  and  amusement.  Ken- 
rick shuffled  and  sneaked,  protesting  that  he 
meant  nothing  derogatory  to  his  private  character. 
Goldsmith  let  him  know,  however,  that  he  was 
aware  of  his  having  more  than  once  indulged  in 
attacks  of  this  dastard  kind,  and  intimated  that 
another  such  outrage  would  be  followed  by  per- 
sonal chastisement. 

Kenrick  having  played  the  craven  in  his  pres- 
ence, avenged  himself  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  by 
complaining  of  his  having  made  a  wanton  attack 
upon  him,  and  by  making  coarse  comments  upon 
his  writings,  conversation  and  person. 

The  scurrilous  satire  of  Kenrick,  however  un- 
merited, may  have  checked  Goldsmith's  taste  for 
masquerades.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  calling  on 
the  poet  one  morning,  found  him  walking  about 
his  room  in  somewhat  of  a  reverie,  kicking  a 
bundle  of  clothes  before  him  like  a  foot-ball.  It 
proved  to  be  an  expensive  masquerade  dress, 
which  lie  said  he  had  been  fool  enough  to  pur- 
chase, and  as  there  was  no  other  way  of  getting 
the  worth  of  his  money,  he  was  trying  to  take  it 
out  in  exercise. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

INVITATION  TO  CHRISTMAS — THE  SPRING  VELVET 
COAT— THE  HAYMAKING  WIG— THE  MIS- 
CHANCES OF  LOO  —  THE  FAIR  CULPRIT — A 
DANCE  WITH  THE  JESSAMY  BRIDE. 

FROM  the  feverish  dissipations  of  town,  Gold- 
smith is  summoned  away  to  partake  of  the  genial 
dissipations  of  the  country.  In  the  month  of  De- 
cember, a  letter  from  Mrs.  Bunbury  invites  him 
down  to  Burton,  to  pass  the  Christinas  holidays. 
The  letter  is  written  in  the  usual  playful  vein 
which  marks  his  intercourse  with  this  charming 
family.  He  is  to  come  in  his  "  smart  spring-velvet 
coat,"  to  bring  a  new  wig  to  dance  with  the  hay- 
makers in,  and  above  all,  to  follow  the  advice  of 
herself  and  her  sister  (the  Jessamy  Bride),  in  play- 
ing loo.  This  letter,  which  plays  so  archly,  yet 
kindly,  with  some  of  poor  Goldsmith's  peculiari- 
ties, and  bespeaks  such  real  ladylike  regard  for 
him,  requires  a  word  or  two  of  annotation.  The 
spring-velvet  suit  alluded  to  appears  to  have  been 
a  gallant  adornment  (somewhat  in  the  style  of 
the  famous  bloom-colored  coat)  in  which  Gold- 
smith had  figured  in  the  preceding  month  of  May 
— the  season  of  blossoms — for,  on  the  2ist  of  that 
month  we  find  the  following  entry  in  the  chronicle 
of  Mr.  William  Filby,  tailor  :  To  your  blue  vel- 
vet suit,  £21  los.  Q//.  Also,  about  the  same 
time,  a  suit  of  livery  and  a  crimson  collar  for  the 
serving  man.  Again  we  hold  the  Jessamy  Bride 
responsible  for  this  gorgeous  splendor  of  ward- 
robe. 

The  new  wig  no  doubt  is  a  bag-wig  and  soli- 
taire, still  highly  the  mode,  and  in  which  Gold- 
smith is  represented  as  figuring  when  in  lull 
dress,  equipped  with  his  sword. 

As  to  the  dancing  with  the  haymakers,  we  pre- 
sume it  alludes  to  some  gambol  of  the  poet,  in  the 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


249 


course  of  his  former  visit  to  Barton  ;  when  he 
ranged  the  fields  and  lawns  a  chartered  libertine, 
and  tumbled  into  the  fish-ponds. 

As  to  the  suggestions  about  loo,  they  are  in 
sportive  allusion  to  the  doctor's  mode  ot  playing 
that  game  in  their  merry  evening  parties  ;  affect- 
ing the  desperate  gambler  and  easy  dupe  ;  run- 
ning counter  to  ail  rule  ;  making  extravagant 
ventures  ;  reproaching  all  others  with  cowardice  ; 
dashing  at  all  hazards  at  the  pool,  and  getting 
himself  completely  loo'd,  to  the  great  amuse- 
ment of  the  company.  The  drift  of  the  fair  sis- 
ters' advice  was  most  probably  to  tempt  him  on, 
and  then  leave  him  in  the  lurch. 

With  these  comments  we  subjoin  Goldsmith's 
reply  to  Mrs.  Bunbury,  a  fine  piece  of  off-hand, 
humorous  writing,  which  has  but  in  late  years 
been  given  to  the  public,  and  which  throws  a 
familiar  light  on  the  social  circle  at  Barton. 

MADAM  :  I  read  your  letter  with  all  that  allow- 
ance which  critical  candor  could  require,  but 
after  all  find  so  much  to  object  to,  and  so  much 
to  raise  my  indignation,  that  I  cannot  help  giving 
it  a  serious  answer.  I  am  not  so  ignorant, 
madam,  as  not  to  see  there  are  many  sarcasms 
contained  in  it,  and  solecisms  also.  (Solecism  is 
a  word  that  comes  from  the  town  of  Soleis  in  At- 
tica, among  the  Greeks,  built  by  Solon,  and  ap- 
plied as  we  use  the  word  Kidderminster  for  cur- 
tains from  a  town  also  of  that  name — but  this  is 
learning  you  have  no  taste  for  !) — I  say,  madam, 
there  are  many  sarcasrrs  in  it,  and  solecisms  also. 
But  not  to  seem  an  ill-natured  critic,  I'll  take 
leave  to  quote  your  own  words,  and  give  you  my 
remarks  upon  them  as  they  occur.  You  begin  as 
follows  : 

'  I  hope,  my  good  Doctor,  you  soon  will  be  here, 
And  your  spring-velvet  coat  very  smart  will  appear, 
To  open  our  ball  the  first  day  of  the  year.' 

"  Pray,  madam,  where  did  you  ever  find  the 
epithet  'good,'  applied  to  the  title  of  doctor  ? 
Had  you  called  me  'learned  doctor,'  or  'grave 
doctor,'  or  '  noble  doctor,'  it  might  be  allowable, 
because  they  belong  to  the  profession.  But,  not 
to  cavil  at  trifles,  you  talk  of  '  my  spring-velvet 
coat,'  and  advise  me  to  wear  it  the  first  day  in  the 
year,  that  is,  in  the  middle  of  winter  ! — a  spring- 
velvet  coat  in  the  middle  of  winter  !  !  !  That 
would  be  a  solecism  indeed  !  and  yet  to  increase 
the  inconsistence,  in  another  part  of  your  letter 
you  call  me  a  beau.  Now,  on  one  side  or  other 
you  must  be  wrong.  It  I  am  a  beau,  I  can  never 
think  of  wearing  a  spring-velvet  in  winter  ;  and 
if  I  am  not  a  beau,  why  then,  that  explains  itself. 
But  let  me  go  on  to  your  two  next  strange  lines  : 

'  And  bring  with  you  a  wig,  that  is  modish  and  gay, 
To  dance  with  the  girls  that  are  makers  of  hay.' 

"  The  absurdity  of  making  hay  at  Christmas  you 
yourself  seem  sensible  of  :  you  say  your  sister  will 
laugh  ;  and  so  indeed  she  well  may  !  The  Latins 
have  an  expression  for  a  contemptuous  kind  of 
laughter,  '  naso  contemnere  adunco  ;  '  that  is,  to 
laugh  with  a  crooked  nose.  She  may  laugh  at 
you  in  the  manner  of  the  ancients  if  she  thinks  fit. 
But  now  I  come  to  the  most  extraordinary  of  all  ex- 
traordinary propositions,  which  is,  to  take  your 
and  your  sister's  advice  in  playing  at  loo.  The 
presumption  of  the  offer  raises  my  indignation  be- 
yond the  bounds  of  prose  ;  it  inspires  me  at  once 
with  verse  and  resentment.  I  take  advice  !  and 
from  whom  ?  You  shall  hear. 

First  let  me  suppose,  what  may  shortly  be  true, 
The  company  set,  and  the  word  to  be  Loo  : 


All  smirking,  and  pleasant,  and  big  with  adventure, 
And  ogling  the  stake  which  is  fix'd  in  the  centre. 
Round  and  round  go  the  cards,   while   I   inwardly 

damn 

At  never  once  finding  a  visit  from  Pam. 
I  lay  down  my  stake,  apparently  cool, 
While  the  harpies  about  me  all  pockel  the  pool. 
I  fret  in  my  gizzard,  yet.  cautious  and  sly, 
I  wish  all  my  friends  may  be  bolder  than  I  : 
Yet  still  they  sit  snug,  not  a  creature  will  aim 
By  losing  their  money  to  venture  at  fame. 
'Tis  in  vain  that  at  niggardly  caution  I  scold, 
'Tis  in  vain  that  I  flatter  the  brave  and  the  bold  : 
All   play  their  own   way,    and   they   think  me  an 

ass,  .  .  . 
'What  does  Mrs.   Bunbury?1    .    .    .     'I,    Sir?     I 

pass. ' 
'  Pray  what  does  Miss  Horneck  ?  take  courage,  come 

do,'  .  .  . 

'  Who,  I  ?  let  me  see,  sir,  why  I  must  pass  too.' 
Mr.  Bunbury  frets,  and  I  fret  like  the  devil, 
To  see  them  so  cowardly,  lucky,  and  rivil. 
Yet  still  I  sit  snug,  and  continue  to  sigh  on, 
Till,  made  by  my  losses  as  bold  as  a  lion, 
I  venture  at  all,  while  my  avarice  regards 
The  whole  pool  as  my  own.  .  .  .   '  Come  give  me 

five  cards. ' 
'  Well  done  !  '  cry  the  ladies  ;  '  Ah,   Doctor,   that's 

good  ! 

The  pool's  very  rich,  .  .   .  ah  !  the  Doctor  is  loo'd  !' 
Thus  foil'd  in  my  courage,  on  all  sides  perplext, 
I  ask  for  advice  from  the  lady  that's  next  : 
'  Pray,  ma'am,  be  so  good  as  to  give  your  advice  ; 
Don't  you  think  the  best  way  is  to  venture   for't 

twice  !  ' 

'  I  advise,'  cries  the  lady,  '  to  try  it,  I  own.  .  .  . 
'  Ah  !    the   doctor   is   loo'd  !     Come,    Doctor,    put 

down.' 

Thus,  playing,  and  playing,  I  still  grow  more  eager, 
And  so  bold,  and  so  bold,  I'm  at  last  a  bold  beggar. 
Now,  ladies,  I  ask,  if  law-matters  you're  skill'd  in, 
Whether  crimes  such  as  yours  should  not  come  be- 
fore Fielding  : 

For  giving  advice  that  is  not  worth  a  straw. 
May  well  be  call'd  picking  of  pockets  in  law  ; 
And  picking  of  pockets,  with  which  I  now  charge  ye, 
Is,  by  quinto  Elizabeth,  Death  without  Clergy, 
What  justice,  when  both  to  the  Old  Bailey  brought ! 
By  the  gods,  I'll  enjoy  it,  tho'  'tis  but  in  thought  ! 
Both  are  plac'd  at  the  bar,  with  all  proper  decorum, 
With  bunches  of  fennel,  and  nosegays  before  'em  ; 
Both  cover  their  faces  with  mobs  and  all  that, 
But  the  judge  bids  them,  angrily,  take  off  their  hat. 
When  uncover'd,  a  buzz  of  inquiry  runs  round, 
'  Pray  what  are  their  crimes  ?'...'  They've  been 

pilfering  found.' 

'  But,  pray,  who  have  they  pilfer'd  ? '  .  .  .  'A  doc- 
tor, I  hear.' 
'  What,  yon  solemn-faced,  odd-looking  man  that  stands 

near  ?  ' 

'  The  same.'  .  .  .   '  What  a  pity  !   how  does  it  sur- 
prise one, 

Two  handsomer  culprits  I  never  set  eyes  on  !  ' 
Then  their  friends  all  come  round  me  with  cringing 

and  leering, 

To  melt  me  to  pity,  and  soften  my  swearing. 
First  Sir  Charles  advances  with  phrases  well-strung, 
Consider,  dear  Doctor,  the  girls  are  but  young.' 
The  younger  the  worse,'  I  return  him  again, 
It  shows  that  their  habits  are  all  dyed  in  grain.' 
But  then   they're  so  handsome,    one's  bosom  it 

grieves.' 

What  signifies  handsome,  when  people  are  thieves  ? ' 
But  where  is  your  justice  ?  their  cases  are  hard.' 
What  signifies  justice  ?     I  want  the  reward. 

'  There's  the  parish  of  Edmonton  offers  forty 
pounds';  there's  the  parish  •of- St.  Leonard  Shore- 
ditch  offers  forty  pounds  ;  there's  the  parish  of 
Tyburn,  from  the  Hog-in-the-pound  to  St.  Giles' 


250 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


watch-house,  offers  forty  pounds — I  shall  have  all 
that  if  I  convict  them  !  ' — 

"•'  But  consider  their  case,  ...  it  may  yet  be  your 

own  ! 
And  see  how  they  kneel  !     Is  your  heart  made  of 

stone  !  ' 

This  moves  !  ...  so  at  last  I  agree  to  relent, 
For  ten  pounds  in  hand,   and  ten  pounds  to  be 

spent.' 

"  I  challenge  you  all  to  answer  this  :  I  tell  you, 
you  cannot.  It  cuts  deep.  But  now  for  the  rest 
of  the  letter  :  and  next — but  I  want  room — so  I 
believe  I  shall  battle  the  rest  out  at  Barton  some 
day  next  week.  I  don't  value  you  all  ! 

"O.  G." 

We  regret  that  we  have  no  record  of  this  Christ- 
mas visit  to  Barton  ;  that  the  poet  had  no  Boswell 
to  follow  at  his  heels,  and  take  note  of  all  his 
sayings  and  doings.  We  can  only  picture  him  in 
our  minds,  casting  off  all  care;  enacting  the  lord 
of  misrule  ;  presiding  at  the  Christmas  revels  ; 
providing  all  kinds  of  merriment  ;  keeping  the 
card-table  in  an  uproar,  and  finally  opening  the 
ball  on  the  first  day  of  the  year  in  his  spring-vel- 
vet suit,  with  the  Jessamy  Bride  for  a  partner. 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

THEATRICAL  DELAYS —NEGOTIATIONS  WITH 
COLMAN — LETTER  TO  GARRICK— CROAKING 
OF  THE  MANAGER — NAMING  OF  THE  PLAY — 
SHE  STOOPS  TO  CONQUER— FOOTE'S  PRIMITIVE 
PUPPET-SHOW,  PIETY  ON  PATTENS — FIRST 
PERFORMANCE  OF  THE  COMEDY — AGITATION 
OF  THE  AUTHOR — SUCCESS— COLMAN  SQUIBBED 
OUT  OF  TOWN. 

THE  gay  life  depicted  in  the  two  last  chapters, 
while  it  kept  Goldsmith  in  a  state  of  continual  ex- 
citement, aggravated  the  malady  which  was  im- 
pairing his  constitution  ;  yet  his  increasing  per- 
plexities in  money  matters  drove  him  to  the  dissi- 
pation of  society  as  a  relief  from  solitary  care. 
The  delays  of  the  theatre  added  to  those  per- 
plexities. He  had  long  since  finished  his  new 
comedy,  yet  the  year  1772  passed  away  without 
his  being  able  to  get  it  on  the  stage.  No  one, 
uninitiated  in  the  interior  of  a  theatre,  that  little 
world  of  traps  and  trickery,  can  have  any  idea  of 
the  obstacles  and  perplexities  multiplied  in  the 
way  of  the  most  eminent  and  successful  author  by 
the  mismanagement  ot  managers,  the  jealousies 
and  intrigues  of  rival  authors,  and  the  fantastic 
and  impertinent  caprices  of  actors.  A  long  and 
baffling  negotiation  was  carried  on  between  Gold- 
smith and  Colman,  the  manager  of  Covent  Gar- 
den ;  who  retained  the  play  in  his  hands  until  the 
middle  of  January  (1773),  without  coming  to  a  de- 
cision. The  theatrical  season  was  rapidly  pass- 
ing away,  and  Goldsmith's  pecuniary  difficulties 
were  augmenting  and  pressing  on  him.  We  may 
judge  of  his  anxiety  by  the  following  letter  : 

"  To  George  Colman,  Esq. 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  I  entreat  you'll  relieve  me  from 
that  state  of  suspense  in  which  I  have  been  .kept 
for  a  long  time.  Whatever  objections  you  have 
made  or  shall  make  to  my  play,  I  will  endeavor  to 
remove  and  not  argue  about  them.  To  bring  in 


any  new  judges,  either  of  its  ments  or  faults  I 
can  never  submit  to.  Upon  a  former  occasion, 
when  my  other  play  was  before  Mr.  Garrick,  he 
offered  to  bring  me  before  Mr.  Whitehead's 
tribunal,  but  I  refused  the  proposal  with  indigna- 
tion :  I  hope  I  shall  not  experience  as  harsh  treat- 
ment from  you  as  from  him.  I  have,  as  you  know, 
a  large  sum  of  money  to  make  up  shortly  ;  by  ac- 
cepting my  play,  I  can  readily  satisfy  my  creditor 
that  way  ;  at  any  rate,  I  must  look  about  to  some 
certainty  to  be  prepared.  For  God's  sake  take  the 
play,  and  let  us  make  the  best  of  it,  and  let  me 
have  the  same  measure,  at  least,  which  you  have 
given  as  bad  plays  as  mine. 

"  I  am  your  friend  and  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

Colman  returned  the  manuscript  with  the  blank 
sides  of  the  leaves  scored  with  disparaging  com- 
ments and  suggested  alterations,  but  wilh  the  in- 
timation that  the  faith  of  the  theatre  should  be 
kept,  and  the  play  acted  notwithstanding.  Gold- 
smith submitted  the  criticisms  to  some  ol  his 
friends,  who  pronounced  them  trivial,  unfair,  and 
contemptible,  and  intimated  that  Colman,  being  a 
dramatic  writer  himself,  might  be  actuated  by 
jealousy.  The  play  was  then  sent,  with  Colman's 
comments  written  on  it,  to  Garrick  ;  but  he  had 
scarce  sent  it  when  Johnson  interfered,  repre- 
sented the  evil  that  might  result  from  an  apparent 
rejection  of  it  by  Covent  Garden,  and  undertook 
to  go  forthwith  to  Colman,  and  have  a  talk  with 
him  on  the  subject.  Goldsmith,  therefore, 
penned  the  following  note  to  Garrick  : 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  I  ask  many  pardons  for  the  trou- 
ble I  gave  you  yesterday.  Upon  more  mature 
deliberation,  and  the  advice  of  a  sensible  friend,  I 
began  to  think  it  indelicate  in  me  to  throw  upon 
you  the  odium  of  confirming  Mr.  Colman's  sen- 
tence. I  therefore  request  you  will  send  my  play 
back  by  my  servant  ;  lor  having  been  assured  of 
having  it  acted  at  the  other  house,  though  I  con- 
fess yours  in  every  respect  more  to  my  wish,  yet 
it  would  be  folly  in  me  to  forego  an  advantage 
which  lies  in  my  power  of  appealing  from  Mr.  Col- 
man's opinion  to  the  judgment  of  the  town.  I  en- 
treat, if  not  too  late,  you  will  keep  this  affair  a 
secret  for  some  time. 

"  I  am,  dear  sir,  your  very  humble  sen-ant, 
"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

The  negotiation  of  Johnson  with  the  manager 
of  Covent  Garden  was  effective.  "  Colman,"  he 
says,  "  was  prevailed  on  at  last,  by  much  solici- 
tation, nay,  a  kind  of  force,"  to  bring  forward 
the  comedy.  Still  the  manager  was  ungenerous  ; 
or,  a  least,  indiscreet  enough  to  express  his 
opinion,  that  it  would  not  reach  a  second  repre- 
sentation. The  plot,  he  said,  was  bad,  and  the 
interest  not  sustained  ;  "it  dwindled,  and  dwin- 
dled, and  at  last  went  out  like  the  snuff  of  a 
candle."  The  effect  of  his  croaking  was  soon 
apparent  within  the  walls  of  the  theatre.  Two  of 
the  most  popular  actors,  Woodward  and  Gentle- 
man Smith,  to  whom  the  parts  of  Tony  Lumpkin 
and  Young  Marlow  were  assigned,  refused  to  act 
them  ;  one  of  them  alleging,  in  excuse,  the  evil 
predictions  of  the  manager.  Goldsmith  was  ad- 
vised to  postpone  the  performance  of  his  play 
until  he  could  get  these  important  parts  well  sup- 
plied. "  No,"  said  he,  "  I  would  sooner  that  my 
play  were  damned  by  bad  players  than  merely 
saved  by  good  acting." 

Quick  was  substituted  for  Woodward  in  Tony 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


251 


Lumpkin,  and  Lee  Lewis,  the  harlequin  of  the 
theatre,  for  Gentleman  Smith  in  Young  Marlovv  ; 
and  both  did  justice  to  their  parts. 

Great  interest  was  taken  by  Goldsmith's  friends 
in  the  success  of  his  piece.  The  rehearsals  were 
attended  by  Johnson,  Cradock,  Murphy,  Reynolds 
and  his  sister,  and  the  whole  Horneck  connection, 
including,  of  course,  the  Jessamy  Bride,  whose 
presence  may  have  contributed  to  flutter  the 
anxious  heart  of  the  author.  The  rehearsals 
went  off  with  great  applause,  but  that  Colman 
attributed  to  the  partiality  of  iriends.  He  con- 
tinued to  croak,  ana  refused  to  risk  any  expense 
in  new  scenery  or  dresses  on  a  play  which  he 
was  sure  would  prove  a  failure. 

The  time  was  at  hand  for  the  first  representa- 
tion, and  as  yet  the  comedy  was  without  a  title. 
"  We  are  all  in  labor  for  a  name  for  Goldy's 
play,"  said  Johnson,  who,  as  usual,  took  a  kind 
of  fatherly  protecting  interest  in  poor  Goldsmith's 
affairs.  The  Old  House  a  New  Inn  was  thought 
of  for  a  time,  but  still  did  not  please.  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  proposed  The  Belle' s  Stratagem,  an 
elegant  title,  but  not  considered  applicable,  the 
perplexities  of  the  comedy  being  produced  by  the 
mistake  of  the  hero,  not  the  stratagem  of  the 
heroine.  The  name  was  afterward  adopted  by 
Mrs.  Cowley  for  one  of  her  comedies.  The  Mis- 
takes of  a  Night  was  the  title  at  length  fixed  upon, 
to  which  Goldsmith  prefixed  the  words  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer. 

The  evil  bodings  of  Colman  still  continued  ; 
they  were  even  communicated  in  the  box  office  to 
the  servant  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  was 
sent  to  engage  a  box.  Never  did  the  play  of  a 
popular  writer  struggle  into  existence  through 
more  difficulties. 

In  the  meantime  Foote's  Primitive  Punpetshow, 
entitled  the  Handsome  Housemaid,  or  Piety  on 
Pattens,  had  been  brought  out  at  the  Hayrnarket 
on  the  1 5th  of  February.  All  the  world,  fashion- 
able and  unfashionable,  had  crowded  to  the  the- 
atre. The  street  was  thronged  with  equipages — 
the  doors  were  stormed  by  the  mob.  The  bur- 
lesque was  completely  successful,  and  sentimental 
comedy  received  its  quietus.  Even  Garrick,  who 
had  recently  befriended  it,  now  gave  it  a  kick,  as 
he  saw  it  going  down  hill,  and  sent  Goldsmith  a 
humorous  prologue  to  help  his  comedy  of  the 
opposite  school.  Garrick  and  Goldsmith,  how- 
ever, were  now  on  very  cordial  terms,  to  which 
the  social  meetings  in  the  circle  of  the  Hornecks 
and  Bunburys  may  have  contributed. 

On  the  1 5th  of  March  the  new  comedy  was  to 
be  performed.  Those  who  had  stood  up  for  its 
merits,  and  been  irritated  and  disgusted  by  the 
treatment  it  had  received  from  the  manager,  de- 
termined to  muster  their  forces,  and  aid  in  giving 
it  a  good  launch  upon  the  town.  The  particulars 
of  this  confederation,  and  of  its  triumphant  suc- 
cess, are  amusingly  told  by  Cumberland  in  his 
memoirs. 

"  We  were  not  over  sanguine  of  success,  but 
perfectly  determined  to  struggle  hard  for  our  au- 
thor. We  accordingly  assembled  our  strength  at 
the  Shakespeare  Tavern,  in  a  considerable  body, 
for  an  early  dinner,  where  Samuel  Johnson  took 
the  chair  at  the  head  of  a  long  table,  and  was  the 
life  and  soul  of  the  corps  :  the  poet  took  post 
silently  by  his  side,  with  the  Burkes,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  Fitzherbert,  Caleb  Whitefoord,  and  a 
phalanx  of  North  British,  predetermined  ap- 
plauders,  under  the  banner  of  Major  Mills,  all 
good  men  and  true.  Our  illustrious  president 
was  in  inimitable  glee  ;  and  poor  Goldsmith  that 


day  took  all  his  raillery  as  patiently  and  compla- 
cently as  my  friend  Boswell  would  have  done  any 
clay  or  every  day  of  his  life.  In  the  meantime,  we 
did  not  forget  our  duty  ;  and  though  we  had  'a 
better  comedy  going,  in  which  Johnson  was  chief 
actor,  we  betook  ourselves  in  good  time  to  our 
separate  and  allotted  posts,  and  waited  the  awful 
drawing  up  of  the  curtain.  As  our  stations  were 
preconcerted,  so  were  our  signals  for  plaudits  ar- 
ranged and  determined  upon  in  a  manner  that 
gave  every  one  his  cue  where  to  look  for  them, 
and  how  to  follow  them  up. 

"  We  had  among  us  a  very  worthy  and  effi- 
cient member,  long  since  lost  to  his  friends  and 
the  world  at  large,  Adam  Drummond,  of  amia- 
ble memory,  who  was  gifted  by  nature  with  the 
most  sonorous,  and  at  the  same  time,  the  most 
contagious  laugh  that  ever  echoed  from  the 
human  lungs.  The  neighing  of  the  horse  ol  the 
son  of  Hystaspes  was  a  whisper  to  it  ;  the  whole 
thunder  of  the  theatre  could  not  drown  it.  This 
kind  and  ingenious  friend  fairly  forewarned  us 
that  he  knew  no  more  when  to  give  his  fire  than 
the  cannon  did  that  was  planted  on  a  battery.  He 
desired,  therefore,  to  have  a  flapper  at  his  elbow, 
and  I  had  the  honor  to  be  deputed  to  that  office. 
I  planted  him  in  an  upper  box,  pretty  nearly  over 
the  stage,  in  full  view  of  the  pit  and  galleries, 
and  perfectly  well  situated  to  give  the  echo  all  its 
play  through  the  hollows  and  recesses  of  the  the- 
atre. The  success  of  our  manoeuvre  was  complete. 
All  eyes  were  upon  Johnson,  who  sat  in  a  front 
row  of  a  side  box  ;  and  when  he  laugaed,  every- 
body thought  themselves  warranted  to  roar.  In  the 
meantime,  my  friend  followed  signals  with  a  rat- 
tle so  irresistibly  comic  that, when  he  had  repeated 
it  several  times,  the  attention  of  the  spectators  was 
so  engrossed  by  his  person  and  performances,  that 
the  progress  of  the  play  seemed  likely  to  become 
a  secondary  object,  and  I  found  it  prudent  to  in- 
sinuate to  him  that  he  might  halt  his  music  with- 
out any  prejudice  to  the  author  ;  but  alas  !  it  was 
now  too  late  to  rein  him  in  ;  he  had  laughed  upon 
my  signal  where  he  found  no  joke,  and  now,  un- 
luckily, he  fancied  that  he  found  a  joke  in  almost 
everything  that  was  said  ;  so  that  nothing  in  na- 
ture could  be  more  mal-apropos  than  some  of  his 
bursts  every  now  and  then  were.  These  were  dan- 
gerous moments,  for  the  pit  began  to  take 
umbrage  ;  but  we  carried  our  point  through,  and 
triumphed  not  only  over  Colman's  judgment,  but 
our  own." 

Much  of  this  statement  has  been  condemned 
as  exaggerated  or  discolored.  Cumberland's 
memoirs  have  generally  been  characterized  as 
partaking  of  romance,  and  in  the  present  instance 
he  had  particular  motives  for  tampering  with  the 
truth.  He  was  a  dramatic  writer  himself,  jealous 
of  the  success  of  a  rival,  and  anxious  to  have  it 
attributed  to  the  private  management  of  friends. 
According  to  various  accounts,  public  and  pri- 
vate, such  management  was  unnecessary,  for  the 
piece  was  "  received  throughout  with  the  greatest 
acclamations." 

Goldsmith,  in  the  present  instance,  had  not 
dared,  as  on  a  former  occasion,  to  be  present  at 
the  first  performance.  He  had  been  so  overcome 
by  his  apprehensions  that,  at  the  preparatory  din- 
ner he  could  hardly  utter  a  word,  and  was  so 
choked  that  he  could  not  swallow  a  mouthful. 
When  his  friends  trooped  to  the  theatre,  he  stole 
away  to  St.  James*  Park  :  there  he  was  found  by 
a  friend  between  seven  and  eight  o'clock,  wander- 
ing up  and  down  the  Mall  like  a  troubled  spirit. 
With  difficulty  he  was  persuaded  to  go  to  the  they- 


252 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


atre,  where  his  presence  might  be  important 
should  any  alteration  be  necessary.  He  arrived 
at  the  opening  of  the  filth  act,  and  made  his  way 
behind  the  scenes.  Just  as  he  entered  there  was 
a  slight  hiss  at  the  improbability  of  Tony  Lump- 
kin's  trick  on  his  mother,  in  persuading  her  she 
was  forty  miles  off,  on  Crackskull  Common, 
though  she  had  been  trundled  about  on  her  own 
grounds.  "  What's  that  ?  what's  that  !"  cried 
Goldsmith  to  the  manager,  in  great  agitation. 
"  Pshaw  !  Doctor,"  replied  Colman,  sarcastically, 
"  don't  be  frightened  at  a  squib,  when  we've 
been  sitting  these  two  hours  on  a  barrel  of  gun- 
powder !"  Though  of  a  most  forgiving  nature 
Goldsmith  did  not  easily  forget  this  ungracious 
and  ill-timed  sally. 

If  Colman  was  indeed  actuated  by  the  paltry 
motives  ascribed  to  him  in  his  treatment  of  this 
play,  he  was  most  amply  punished  by  its  success, 
and  by  the  taunts,  epigrams,  and  censures 
levelled  at  him  through  the  press,  in  which  his 
false  prophecies  were  jeered  at  ;  his  critical  judg- 
ment called  in  question  ;  and  he  was  openly  taxed 
with  literary  jealousy.  So  galling  and  unremit- 
ting was  the  fire,  that  he  at  length  wrote  to  Gold- 
smith, entreating  him  "  to  take  him  off  the  rack  of 
the  newspapers  ;"  in  the  meantime,  to  escape  the 
laugh  that  was  raised  about  him  in  the  theatrical 
world  of  London,  he  took  refuge  in  Bath  during 
the  triumphant  career  of  the  comedy. 

The  following  is  one  of  the  many  squibs  which 
assailed  the  ears  of  the  manager  : 

To  George  Colman,  Esq. 
OX  THE   SUCCESS   OF   DR.    GOLDSMITH'S    NEW  COMEDY. 

"  Come,  Coley,  doff  those  mourning  weeds, 

Nor  thus  with  jokes  be  flamm'd  ; 
Tho"  Goldsmith's  present  play  succeeds. 
His  next  may  still  be  damn'd. 

As  this  has  'scaped  without  a  fall, 

To  sink  his  next  prepare  ; 
New  actors  hire  from  Wapping  Wall, 

And  dresses  from  Rag  Fair. 

For  scenes  let  tatter'd  blankets  fly, 

The  prologue  Kelly  write  ; 
Then  swear  again  the  piece  must  die 

Before  the  author's  night. 

Should  these  tricks  fail,  the  lucky  elf, 

To  bring  to  lasting  shame, 
E'en  write  the  best  you  can  yourself  t 

And  print  it  in  his  name." 

The  solitary  hiss,  which  had  startled  Goldsmith, 
was  ascribed  by  some  of  the  newspaper  scribblers 
to  Cumberland  himself,  who  was  "  manifestly 
miserable"  at  the  delight  of  the  audience,  or  to 
Ossian  Macpherson,  who  was  hostile  to  the  whole 
Johnson  clique,  or  to  Goldsmith's  dramatic  rival, 
Kelly.  The  following  is  one  of  the  epigrams 
which  appeared  :  y 

"  At  Dr.  Goldsmith's  merry  play, 
All  the  spectators  laugh,  they  say  ; 
The  assertion,  sir,  I  must  deny, 
For  Cumberland  and  Kelly  cry. 

Ride,  si  sapis." 

Another,  addressed  to  Goldsmith,  alludes  to 
Kelly's  early  apprenticeship  to  stay-making  : 

"  If  Kelly  finds  fault  with  the  shape  of  your  muse, 

And  thinks  that  too  loosely  it  plays, 
He  surely,  dear  Doctor,  will  never  refuse 
To  make  it  a  new  Pair  of  Stays  !" 

Cradock  had  returned  to  the  country  before  the 


production  of  the  play  ;  the  following  letter, 
written  just  after  the  performance,  gives  an  addi- 
tional picture  of  the  thorns  which  beset  an  author 
in  the  path  of  theatrical  literature  : 

"  MY  DEAR  SIR  :  The  play  has  met  with  a  suc- 
cess much  beyond  your  exectations  or  mine.  I 
thank  you  sincerely  for  your  epilogue,  which, 
however,  could  not  be  used,  but  with  your  per- 
mission shall  be  printed.  The  story  in'  short  is 
this.  Murphy  sent  me  rather  the  outline  of  an 
epilogue  than  an  epilogue,  which  was  to  be  sung 
by  Miss  Catley,  and  which  she  approved  ;  Mrs. 
Bulkley  hearing  this,  insisted  on  throwing  up  her 
part"  (Miss  Hardcastle)  "  unless,  according  to 
the  custom  of  the  theatre  she  were  permitted  to 
speak  the  epilogue.  In  this  embarrassment  I 
thought  of  making  a  quarelling  epilogue  between 
Catley  and  her,  debating  who  should  speak  the 
epilogue  ;  but  then  Mrs.  Catley  refused  after  I 
had  taken  the  trouble  of  drawing  it  out.  I  was 
then  at  a  loss  indeed  ;  an  epilogue  was  to  be 
made,  and  for  none  but  Mrs.  Bulkley.  I  made 
one,  and  Colman  thought  it  too  bad  to  be 
spoken  ;  I  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  try  a  fourth 
time,  and  I  made  a  very  mawkish  thing,  as  you'll 
shortly  see.  Such  is  the  history  of  my  stage  ad- 
ventures, and  which  I  have  at  last  done  with.  I 
cannot  help  saying  that  I  am  very  sick  of  the 
stage  ;  and  though  I  believe  I  shall  get  three 
tolerable  benefits,  yet  I  shall,  on  the  whole,  be  a 
loser,  even  in  a  pecuniary  light  ;  my  ease  and 
comfort  I  certainly  lost  while  it  was  in  agitation. 

"  I  am,  my  dear  Cradock,  your  obliged  and 
obedient  servant, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  P.S.  Present  my  most  humble  respects  to 
Mrs.  Cradock." 

Johnson,  who  had  taken  such  a  conspicuous 
part  in  promoting  the  interests  of  poor  "  Goldy," 
was  triumphant  at  the  success  of  the  piece.  "  I 
know  of  no  comedy  for  many  years,"  said  he, 
"  that  has  so  much  exhilarated  an  audience  ; 
that  has  answered  so  much  the  great  end  of 
comedy — making  an  audience  merry." 

Goldsmith  was  happy,  also,  in  gleaning  ap- 
plause from  less  authoritative  sources.  North- 
cote,  the  painter,  then  a  youthful  pupil  of  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  ;  and  Ralph,  Sir  Joshua's  con- 
fidential man,  had  taken  their  stations  in  the  gal- 
lery to  lead  the  applause  in  that  quarter.  Gold- 
smith asked  Northcote's  opinion  of  the  play.  The 
youth  modestly  declared  he  could  not  presume  to 
judge  in  such  matters.  "  Did  it  make  you 
laugh  ?"  "  Oh,  exceedingly  !"  "  That  is  all  I  re- 
quire," replied  Goldsmith  ;  and  rewarded  him  for 
his  criticism  by  box-tickets  lor  his  first  benefit 
night. 

The  comedy  was  immediately  put  to  press,  and 
dedicated  to  Johnson  in  the  following  grateful  and 
affectionate  terms  : 

"  In  inscribing  this  slight  performance  to  you, 
I  do  not  mean  so  much  to  compliment  you  as  my- 
self. It  may  do  me  some  honor  to  inform  the 
public,  that  I  have  lived  many  years  in  intimacy 
with  you.  It  may  serve  the  interests  of  mankind 
also  to  inform  them  that  the  greatest  wit  may  be 
found  in  a  character,  without  impairing  the  most 
unaffected  piety." 

The  copyright  was  transferred  to  Mr.  Newbery, 
according  to  agreement,  whose  profits  on  the  sale 
of  the  work  far  exceeded  the  debts  for  which  the 
author  in  his  perplexities  had  preengaged  it. 
The  sum  which  accrued  to  Goldsmith  from  his 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


253 


benefit  nights  afforded  but  a  slight  palliation  of 
his  pecuniary  difficulties.  His  friends,  while 
they  exulted  in  his  success,  little  knew  of  his  con- 
tinually increasing  embarrassments,  and  of  the 
anxiety  of  mind  which  kept  tasking  his  pen  while 
it  impaired  the  ease  and  freedom  of  spirit  neces- 
sary to  felicitous  composition. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A  NEWSPAPER   ATTACK — THE  EVANS  AFFRAY — 
JOHNSON'S  COMMENT. 

THE  triumphant  success  of  She  Stoops  to  Con- 
quer brought  forth,  of  course,  those  carpings  and 
cavillings  oi  underling  scribblers,  which  are  the 
thorns  and  briers  in  the  path  of  successful  authors. 

Goldsmith,  though  easily  nettled  by  attacks  of 
the  kind,  was  at  present  too  well  satisfied  with  the 
reception  of  his  comedy  to  heed  them;  but  the  fol- 
lowing anonymous  letter,  which  appeared  in  a 
public  paper,  was  not  to  be  taken  with  equal 
equanimity  : 

"For  the  London  Packet. 

"  TO  DR.   GOLDSMITH. 

"  Vons  vous  noyez  par  vanite. 
"  SIR  :  The  happy  knack  which  you  have 
learned  of  puffing  your  own  compositions,  pro- 
vokes me  to  come  forth.  You  have  not  been  the 
editor  of  newspapers  and  magazines  not  to  dis- 
cover the  trick  of  literary  humbug ;  but  the  gauze 
is  so  thin  that  the  very  foolish  part  of  the  world 
see  through  it,  and  discover  the  doctor's  monkey 
face  and  cloven  foot.  Your  poetic  vanity  is  as 
unpardonable  as  your  personal.  Would  man  be- 
lieve it,  and  will  woman  bear  it,  to  be  told  that 
for  hours  the  great  Goldsmith  will  stand  survey- 
ing his  grotesque  orang-outang's  figure  in  a  pier- 
glass  ?  Was  but  the  lovely  H — k  as  much 
enamored,  you  would  not  sigh,  my  gentle  swain, 
in  vain.  But  your  vanity  is  preposterous.  How 
will  this  same  bard  of  Bedlam  ring  the  changes 
in  the  praise  of  Goldy  !  But  what  has  he  to  be 
either  proud  or  vain  of  ?  '  The  Traveller '  is  a 
flimsy  poem,  built  upon  false  principles — princi- 
ples diametrically  opposite  to  liberty.  What  is 
The  Good-Natured  Man  but  a  poor,  water-gruel 
dramatic  dose  ?  What  is  '  The  Deserted  Vil- 
lage '  but  a  pretty  poem  of  easy  numbers,  without 
fancy,  dignity,  genius,  or  fire  ?  And,  pray,  what 
may  be  the  last  speaking  pantomime,  so  praised 
by  the  doctor  himself,  but  an  incoherent  piece  of 
stuff,  the  figure  of  a  woman  with  a  fish's  tail, 
without  plot,  incident,  or  intrigue  ?  We  are  made 
to  laugh  at  stale,  dull  jokes,  wherein  we  mistake 
pleasantry  for  wit,  and  grimace  for  humor  ; 
wherein  every  scene  is  unnatural  and  inconsistent 
with  the  rules,  the  laws  of  nature  and  of  the 
drama  ;  viz.,  two  gentlemen  corne  to  a  man  of 
fortune's  house,  eat,  drink,  etc.,  and  take  it  for  an 
inn.  The  one  is  intended  as  a  lover  for  the 
daughter ;  he  talks  with  her  for  some  hours  ; 
and,  when  he  sees  her  again  in  a  different  dress, 
he  treats  her  as  a  bar-girl,  and  swears  she  squint- 
ed. He  abuses  the  master  of  the  house,  and 
threatens  to  kick  him  out  of  his  own  doors.  The 
squire,  whom  we  are  told  is  to  be  a  tool,  proves 
to  be  the  most  sensible  being  of  the  piece  ;  and  he 
makes  out  a  whole  act  by  bidding  his  mother  lie 
close  behind  a  bush,  persuading  her  that  his 


father,  her  own  husband,  is  a  highwayman,  and 
that  he  has  come  to  cut  their  throats;  and,  to 
give  his  cousin  an  opportunity  to  go  off,  he  drives 
his  mother  over  hedges,  ditches,  and  through 
ponds.  There  is  not,  sweet,  sucking  Johnson,  a 
natural  stroke  in  the  whole  play  but  the  young 
fellow's  giving  the  stolen  jewels  to  the  mother, 
supposing  her  to  be  the  landlady.  That  Mr.  Col- 
man  did  no  justice  to  this  piece,  I  honestly  allow  ; 
that  he  told  all  his  friends  it  would  be  damned,  I 
positively  aver  ;  and,  from  such  ungenerous  in- 
sinuations, without  a  dramatic  merit  ;  it  rose  to 
public  notice,  and  it  is  now  the  ton  to  go  and  see 
it,  though  I  never  saw  a  person  that  either  liked 
it  or  approved  it,  any  more  than  the  absurd  plot 
of  Home's  tragedy  of  Alonzo.  Mr.  Goldsmith, 
correct  your  arrogance,  reduce  your  vanity,  and 
endeavor  to  believe,  as  a  mail,  yo"u  are  of  the 
plainest  sort  ;  and  as  an  author,  but  a  mortal 
piece  of  mediocrity. 

"  Brise  le  miroir  infidele 
Qui  vous  cache  la  verite. 

"ToM  TICKLE." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  devise  a  letter  more  cal- 
culated to  wound  the  peculiar  sensibilities  oi 
Goldsmith.  The  attacks  upon  him  as  an  author, 
though  annoying  enough,  he  could  have  tolerated  ; 
but  then  the  allusion  to  his  "  grotesque"  person, 
to  his  studious  attempts  to  adorn  it  ;  and  above 
all,  to  his  being  an  unsuccessful  admirer  of  the 
lovely  H— k  (the  Jessamy  Bride),  struck  rudely 
upon  the  most  sensitive  part  of  his  highly  sensi- 
tive nature.  The  paragraph,  it  was  said,  was 
first  pointed  out  to  him  by  an  officious  friend,  an 
Irishman,  who  told  him  he  was  bound  in  honor 
to  resent  it;  but  he  needed  no  such  prompting. 
He  was  in  a  high  state  of  excitement  and  indig- 
nation, and  accompanied  by  his  friend,  who  is 
said  to  have  been  a  Captain  Higgins,  of  the 
marines,  he  repaired  to  Paternoster  Row,  to  the 
shop  of  Evans,  the  publisher,  whom  he  supposed 
to  be  the  editor  of  the  paper.  Evans  was  sum- 
moned by  his  shopman  from  an  adjoining  room. 
Goldsmith  announced  his  name.  "  I  have 
called,"  added  he,  "in  consequence  of  a  scurril- 
ous attack  made  upon  me,  and  an  unwarrantable 
liberty  taken  with  the  name  of  a  young  lady.  As 
for  myself,  I  care  little  ;  but  her  name  must  not 
be  sported  with." 

Evans  professed  utter  ignorance  of  the  matter, 
and  said  he  would  speak  to  the  editor.  He 
stooped  to  examine  a  file  of  the  paper,  in  search 
of  the  offensive  article  ;  whereupon  Goldsmith's 
friend  gave  him  a  signal,  that  now  was  a  favor- 
able moment  for  the  exercise  of  his  cane.  The 
hint  was  taken  as  quick  as  given,  and  the  cane 
was  vigorously  applied  to  the  back  of  the  stoop- 
ing publisher.  The  latter  rallied  in  an  instant, 
and,  being  a  stout,  high-blooded  Welshman,  re- 
turned the  blows  with  interest.  A  lamp  hanging 
overhead  'was  broken,  and  sent  down  a  shower 
of  oil  upon  the  combatants  ;  but  the  battle  raged 
with  unceasing  fury.  The  shopman  ran  off  for 
a  constable  ;  but  Dr.  Kendrick,  who  happened  to 
be  in  the  adjacent  room,  sallied  forth,  interfered 
between  the  combatants,  and  put  an  end  to  the 
affray.  He  conducted  Goldsmith  to  a  coach,  in 
exceedingly  battered  and  tattered  plight,  and  ac- 
companied him  home,  soothing  him  with  much 
mock  commiseration,  though  he  was  generally 
suspected,  and  on  good  grounds,  to  be  the  author 
of  the  libel. 

Evans  immediately  instituted  a  suit  against 
Goldsmith  for  an  assault,  but  was  ultimately  pre- 


254: 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


vailed  upon  to  compromise   the  matter,  the  poet 
contributing  fifty  pounds  to  the  Welsh  charity. 

Newspapers  made  themselves,  as  may  well  be 
supposed,  exceedingly  merry  with  the  combat. 
Some  censured  him  severely  for  invading  the 
sanctity  of  a  man's  own  house  ;  others  accused 
him  of  having,  in  his  former  capacity  of  editor  of 
a  magazine,  been  guilty  of  the  very  offences  that 
he  now  resented  in  others.  This  drew  irom  him 
the  following  vindication  : 

"  To  the  Public. 

"  Lest  it  should  be  supposed  that  I  have  been 
willing  to  correct  in  others  an  abuse  of  which  I 
have  been  guilty  myself,  I  beg  leave  to  declare, 
that,  in  all  my  life,  I  never  wrote  or  dictated  a 
single  paragraph,  letter,  or  essay  in  a  newspaper, 
except  a  few  moral  essays  under  the  character  of 
a  Chinese,  about  ten  years  ago,  in  \h<tLedger,  and 
a  letter,  to  which  I  signed  my  name  in  the  St. 
James'  Chronicle.  If  the  liberty  of  the  press,  there- 
fore, has  been  abused,  I  have  had  no  hand  in  it. 

"  I  have  always  considered  the  press  as  the 
protector  of  our  freedom,  as  a  watchful  guardian, 
capable  of  uniting  the  weak  against  the  en- 
croachments of  power.  What  concerns  the  pub- 
lic most  properly  admits  of  a  public  discussion. 
But, of  late,  the  press  has  turned  from  defending 
public  interest  to  making  inroads  upon  private 
life  ;  from  combating  the  strong  to  overwhelming 
the  feeble.  No  condition  is  now  too  obscure  for 
its  abuse, and  the  protector  has  become  the  tyrant 
of  the  people.  In  this  manner  the  freedom  of  the 
press  is  beginning  to  sow  the  seeds  of  its  own  dis- 
solution ;  the  great  must  oppose  it  from  principle, 
and  the  weak  from  fear  ;  till  at  last  every  rank  of 
mankind  shall  be  found  to  give  up  its  benefits, 
content  with  security  from  insults. 

"  How  to  put  a  stop  to  this  licentiousness,  by 
which  all  are  indiscriminately  abused,  and  by 
which  vice  consequently  escapes  in  the  general 
censure,  I  am  unable  to  tell  ;  all  I  could  wish  is 
that,  as  the  law  gives  us  no  protection  against  the 
injury,  so  it  should  give  calumniators  no  shelter 
after  having  provoked  correction.  The  insults 
which  \ve  receive  before  the  public,  by  being 
more  open,  are  the  more  distressing  ;  by  treating 
them  with  silent  contempt  we  do  not  pay  a  suffi- 
cient deference  to  the  opinion  of  the  world.  By 
recurring  to  legal  redress  we  too  often  expose  the 
weakness  of  the  law,  which  only  serves  to  in- 
crease our  mortification  by  failing  to  relieve  us. 
In  short,  every  man  should  singly  consider  him- 
self as  the  guardian  of  the  liberty  of  the  press, 
and,  as  far  as  his  influence  can  extend,  should 
endeavor  to  prevent  its  licentiousness  becoming 
at  last  the  grave  of  its  freedom. 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

Boswell,  who  had  just  arrived  in  town,  met  with 
this  article  in  a  newspaper  which  he  found  at  Dr. 
Johnson's.  The  doctor  was  from  home  at  the 
time,  and  Bozzy  and  Mrs.  Williams,  in  a  critical 
conference  over  the  letter,  determined  from  the 
style  that  it  must  have  been  written  by  the  lexi- 
cographer himself.  The  latter  on  his  return  soon 
undeceived  them.  "  Sir,"  said  he  to  Boswell, 
"  Goldsmith  would  no  more  have  asked  me  to 
have  wrote  such  a  thing  as  that  for  him,  than  he 
would  have  asked  me  to  feed  him  with  a  spoon, 
or  do  anything  else  that  denoted  his  imbecility. 
Sir,  had  he  shown  it  to  any  one  friend,  he  would 
not  have  been  allowed  to  publish  it.  He  has,  in- 
deed, done  it  very  well  ;  but  it  is  a  foolish  thing 


well  done.  I  suppose  he  has  been  so  much 
elated  with  the  success  of  his  new  comedy,  that 
he  has  thought  everything  that  concerned  him 
must  be  of  importance  to  the  public." 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

BOSWELL  IN  HOLY  WEEK — DINNER  AT  OGLE- 
THORPE'S — DINNER  AT  PAOLI'S — THE  POLICY 
OF  TRUTH — GOLDSMITH  AFFECTS  INDEPEN- 
DENCE OF  ROYALTY — PAOLl'S  COMPLIMENT — 
JOHNSON'S  EULOGIUM  ON  THE  FIDDLE — QUES- 
TION ABOUT  SUICIDE — BOSWELL'S  SUBSERVI- 
ENCY. 

THE  return  of  Boswell  to  town  to  his  task  of 
noting  down  the  conversations  of  Johnson  en- 
ables us  to  glean  from  his  journal  some  scanty 
notices  of  Goldsmith.  It  was  now  Holy  Week,  a 
time  during  which  Johnson  was  particularly 
solemn  in  his  manner  and  strict  in  his  devotions. 
Boswell,  who  was  the  imitator  of  the  great  moral- 
ist in  everything,  assumed,  of  course,  an  extra 
devoutness  on  the  present  occasion.  "  He  had 
an  odd  mock  solemnity  of  tone  and  manner,"  said 
Miss  Burney  (afterward  Madame  D'Arblay), 
"  which  he  had  acquired  from  constantly  thinking 
and  imitating  Dr.  Johnson."  It  would  seem  that 
he  undertook  to  deal  out  some  second-hand  homi- 
lies, a  la  Johnson,  for  the  edification  of  Gold- 
smith during  Holy  Week.  The  poet,  whatever 
might  be  his  religious  feeling,  had  no  disposition  , 
to  be  schooled  by  so  shallow  an  apostle.  "  Sir," 
said  he  in  reply,  "as  I  take  my  shoes  from  the  ' 
shoemaker,  and  my  coat  from  the  tailor,  so  I  take 
my  religion  from  the  priest." 

Boswell  treasured  up  the  reply  in  his  memory 
or  his  memorandum  book.  A  few  days  after- 
ward, the  gth  of  April,  he  kept  Good  Friday  with 
Dr.  Johnson,  in  orthodox  style  ;  breakfasted  with 
him  on  tea  and  crossbuns  ;  went  to  church  with 
him  morning  and  evening  ;  fasted  in  the  interval, 
and  read  with  him  in  the  Greek  Testament  :  then, 
in  the  piety  of  his  heart,  complained  of  the  sore 
rebuff  he  had  met  with  in  the  course  of  his  relig- 
ious exhortations  to  the  poet,  and  lamented  that 
the  latter  should  indulge  in  "  this  loose  way  of 
talking."  "Sir,"  replied  Johnson,  "Goldsmith 
knows  nothing — he  has  made  up  his  mind  about 
nothing." 

This  reply  seems  to  have  gratified  the  lurking 
jealousy  of  Boswell,  and  he  has  recorded  it  in  his 
journal.  Johnson,  however,  with  respect  to  Gold- 
smith, and  indeed  with  respect  to  everybody  else, 
blew  hot  as  well  as  cold,  according  to  the  humor 
he  was  in.  Boswell,  who  was  astonished  and 
piqued  at  the  continually  increasing  celebrity  of 
the  poet,  observed  some  time  after  to  Johnson,  in 
a  tone  of  surprise,  that  Goldsmith  had  acquired 
more  fame  than  all  the  officers  of  the  last  war 
who  were  not  generals.  "  Why,  sir,"  answered 
Johnson,  his  old  feeling  of  good-will  working  up- 
permost, "  you  will  find  ten  thousand  fit  to  do 
what  they  did,  before  you  find  one  to  do  what 
Goldsmith  has  done.  You  must  consider  that  a 
thing  is  valued  according  to  its  rarity.  A  pebble 
that  paves  the  street  is  in  itself  more  useful  than 
the  diamond  upon  a  lady's  finger." 

On  the  1 3th  of  April  we  find  Goldsmith  and 
Johnson  at  the  table  of  old  General  Oglethorpe, 
discussing  the  question  of  the  degeneracy  of  the 
human  race.  Goldsmith  asserts  the  fact,  and  at- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


255 


tributes  it  to  the  influence  of  luxury.  Johnson 
denies  the  fact  ;  and  observes  that,  even  admitting 
it,  luxury  could  not  be  the  cause.  It  reached  but 
a  small  proportion  of  the  human  race.  Soldiers, 
on  sixpence  a  day,  could  not  indulge  in  luxuries  ; 
the  poor  and  laboring  classes,  forming  the  great 
mass  of  mankind,  were  out  of  its  sphere. 
Wherever  it  could  reach  them,  it  strengthened 
them  and  rendered  them  prolific.  The  conversa- 
tion was  not  of  particular  force  or  point  as  re- 
ported by  Boswell  ;  the  dinner  party  was  a  very 
small  one,  in  which  there  was  no  provocation  to 
intellectual  display. 

After  dinner  they  took  tea  with  the  ladies,  where 
we  find  poor  Goldsmith  happy  and  at  home,  sing- 
ing Tony  Lumpkin's  song  of  the  "  Three  Jolly 
Pigeons,"  and  another,  called  the  "  Humors  of 
Ballamaguery,"  to  a  very  pretty  Irish  tune.  It 
was  to  have  been  introduced  in  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer,  but  was  left  out,  as  the  actress  who 
played  the  heroine  could  not  sing. 

It  was  in  these  genial  moments  that  the  sun- 
shine of  Goldsmith's  nature  would  break  out,  and 
he  would  say  and  do  a  thousand  whimsical  and 
agreeable  things  that  made  him  the  life  of  the 
strictly  social  circle.  Johnson,  with  whom  con- 
versation was  everything,  used  to  judge  Gold- 
smith too  much  by  his  own  colloquial  standard, 
and  undervalue  him  tor  being  less  provided  than 
himself  with  acquired  facts,  the  ammunition  of 
the  tongue  and  often  the  mere  lumber  of  the 
memory  ;  others,  however,  valued  him  for  the  na- 
tive felicity  of  his  thoughts,  however  carelessly 
expressed,  and  for  certain  good-fellow  qualities, 
less  calculated  to  dazzle  than  to  endear.  "  It  is 
amazing,"  said  Johnson  one  day,  after  he  him- 
self had  been  talking  like  an  oracle  ;  "  it  is  amaz- 
ing how  little  Goldsmith  knows  ;  he  seldom  comes 
where  he  is  not  more  ignorant  than  anyone  else." 
"  Yet,"  replied  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  with  affec- 
tionate promptness,  "  there  is  no  man  whose 
company  is  more  liked." 

Two  or  three  days  after  the  dinner  at  General 
Oglethorpe's,  Goldsmith  met  Johnson  again  at 
the  table  of  General  Paoli,  the  hero  of  Corsica. 
Martinelli,  of  Florence,  author  of  an  Italian  His- 
tory of  England,  was  among  the  guests  ;  as  was 
Baswell,  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  minutes 
of  the  conversation  which  took  place.  The  ques- 
tion was  debated  whether  Martinelli  should  con- 
tinue his  history  down  to  that  day.  "To  be  sure 
he  should,"  said  Goldsmith.  "  No,  sir  ;"  cried 
Johnson,  'it  would  give  great  offence.  He  would 
have  to  tell  of  almost  all  the  living  great  what 
they  did  not  wish  told."  Goldsmith. — "  It  may, 
perhaps,  be  necessary  for  a  native  to  be  more 
cautious  ;  but  a  foreigner,  who  comes  among  us 
without  prejudice,  may  be  considered  as  holding 
the  place  of  a  judge,  and  may  speak  his  mind 
freely."  Johnson. — "  Sir,  a  foreigner,  when  he 
sends  a  work  from  the  press,  ought  to  be  on  his 
guard  against  catching  the  error  and  mistaken 
enthusiasm  of  the  people  among  whom  he  hap- 
pens to  be."  Goldsmith. — "  Sir,  he  wants  only 
to  sell  his  history,  and  to  tell  truth  ;  one  an  hon- 
est, the  other  a  laudable  motive."  Johnson. — 
"  Sir,  they  are  both  laudable  motives.  It  is  lauda- 
ble in  a  man  to  wish  to  live  by  his  labors  ;  but  he 
should  write  so  as  he  may  live  by  them,  not  so  as 
he  may  be  knocked  on  the  head.  I  would  advise 
him  to  be  at  Calais  before  he  publishes  his  history 
of  the  present  age.  A  foreigner  who  attaches 
himself  to  a  political  party  in  this  country  is  in 
the  worst  state  that  can  be  imagined  ;  he  is 
looked  upon  as  a  mere  intermeddler.  A  native 


may  do  it  from  interest."  Boswell. — "  Or  princi- 
ple." Goldsmith. — "  There  are  people  who  tell 
a  hundred  political  lies  every  day,  and  are  not 
hurt  by  it.  Surely,  then,  one  may  tell  truth  with 
perfect  safety."  Johnson. — "Why,  sir,  in  the 
first  place,  he  who  tells  a  hundred  lies  has  dis- 
armed the  force  of  his  lies.  But,  besides,  a  man 
had  rather  have  a  hundred  lies  told  of  him  than 
one  truth  which  he  does  not  wish  to  be  told." 
Goldsmith. — "  For  my  part,  I'd  tell  the  truth, 
and  shame  the  devil."  Johnson. — "  Yes,  sir,  but 
the  devil  will  be  angry.  I  wish  to  shame  the 
devil  as  much  as  you  do,  but  I  should  choose  to 
be  out  of  the  reach  of  his  claws."  Goldsmith. — 
"  His  claws  can  do  you  no  hurt  where  you  have 
the  shield  of  truth." 

This  last  reply  was  one  of  Goldsmith's  lucky 
hits,  and  closed  the  argument  in  his  favor. 

"We  talked,"  writes  Boswell,  "of  the  king's 
coming  to  see  Goldsmith's  new  play."  "  I  wish 
he  would,"  said  Goldsmith,  adding,  however, 
with  an  affected  indifference,  "  Not  that  it  would 
do  me  the  least  good."  "  Well,  then,"  cried 
Johnson,  laughing,  "let  us  say  it  would  do  him 
good.  No,  sir,  this  affectation  will  not  pass  ;  it 
is  mighty  idle.  In  such  a  state  as  ours,  who 
would  not  wish  to  please  the  chief  magistrate  ?" 

"  I  do  wish  to  please  him,"  rejoined  Goldsmith. 
"  I  remember  a  line  in  Dryclen  : 

1  And  every  poet  is  the  monarch's  friend,' 

it  ought  to  be  reversed."  "  Nay,"  said  Johnson, 
"  there  are  finer  lines  in  Dryden  on  this  subject  : 

'  For  colleges  on  bounteous  kings  depend, 
And  never  rebel  was  to  arts  a  friend.'  ' 

General  Paoli  observed  that  "  successful  rebels 
might  be."  "  Happy  rebellions,"  interjected 
Martinelli.  "  We  have  no  such  phrase,"  cried 
Goldsmith.  "  But  have  you  not  the  thing  ?" 
asked  Paoli.  "  Yes,"  replied  Goldsmith,  "  all  our 
happy  revolutions.  They  have  hurt  our  constitu- 
tion, and  will  hurt  it,  till  we  mend  it  by  another 
HAPPY  REVOLUTION."  This  was  a  sturdy  sally 
of  Jacobitism  that  quite  surprised  Boswell,  but 
must  have  been  relished  by  Johnson. 

General  Paoli  mentioned  a  passage  in  the  play, 
which  had  been  construed  into  a  compliment  to  a 
lady  of  distinction,  whose  marriage  with  the  Duke 
of  Cumberland  had  excited  the  strong  disappro- 
bation of  the  king  as  a  mesalliance.  Boswell,  to 
draw  Goldsmith  out,  pretended  to  think  the  com- 
pliment unintentional.  The  poet  smiled  and 
hesitated.  The  general  came  to  his  relief. 
"  Monsieur  Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "  est  comme  la 
mer,  qui  jette  des  perles  et  beaucoup  d'autres 
belles  choses,  sans  s'en  appercevoir"  (Mr.  Gold- 
smith is  like  the  sea,  which  casts  forth  pearls  and 
many  other  beautiful  things  without  perceiving 
it). 

"  Tres-bien  dit,  et  tres-e'le'gamment"  (very  well 
said,  and  very  elegantly),  exclaimed  Goldsmith  ; 
delighted  with  so  beautiful  a  compliment  from 
such  a  quarter. 

Johnson  spoke  disparagingly  of  the  learning  of 
a  Mr.  Harris,  of  Salisbury,  and  doubted  his  being 
a  good  Grecian.  "  He  is  what  is  much  better," 
cried  Goldsmith,  with  a  prompt  good-nature,  "  he 
is  a  worthy,  humane  man."  "  Nay,  sir,"  rejoined 
the  logical  Johnson,  "  that  is  not  to  the  purpose 
ot  our  argument ;  that  will  prove  that  he  can 
play  upon  the  fiddle  as  well  as  Giardini,  as  that 
he  is  an  eminent  Grecian."  Goldsmith  found  he 
had  got  into  a  scrape,  and  seized  upon  Giardini 
to  help  him  out  ot  it.  "The  greatest  musical 


256 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


performers,"  said  he,  dexterously  turning  the  con- 
versation, "  have  but  small  emoluments  ;  Giar- 
dini,  I  am  told,  does  not  get  above  seven  hun- 
dred a  year."  "  That  is  indeed  but  little  lor  a 
man  to  get,"  observed  Johnson,  "  who  does  best 
that  which  so  many  endeavor  to  do.  There  is 
nothing,  I  think,  in  which  the  power  of  art  is 
shown  so  much  as  in  playing  on  the  fiddle.  In 
all  other  things  we  can  do  something  at  first. 
Any  man  will  lorge  a  bar  ot  iron,  if  you  give  him 
a  hammer  ;  not  so  well  as  a  smith,  but  tolerably. 
A  man  will  saw  a  piece  of  wood,  and  make  a 
box,  though  a  clumsy  one  ;  but  give  him  a  fiddle 
and  fiddlestick,  and  he  can  do  nothing." 

This,  upon  the  whole,  though  reported  by  the 
one-sided  Boswell,  is  a  tolerable  specimen  of  the 
conversations  of  Goldsmith  and  Johnson  ;  -  the 
former  heedless,  often  illogical,  always  on  the 
kind-hearted  side  of  the  question,  and  prone  to 
redeem  himself  by  lucky  hits  ;  the  latter  closely 
argumentative,  studiously  sententious,  often  pro- 
found, and  sometimes  laboriously  prosaic. 

They  had  an  argument  a  lew  days  later  at  Mr. 
Thraie's  table,  on  the  subject  of  suicide.  "  Do 
you  think,  sir,"  said  Boswell,  "  that  all  who 
commit  suicide  are  mad  ?"  "  Sir,"  replied  John- 
son, "  they  are  not  often  universally  disordered  in 
their  intellects,  but  one  passion  presses  so  upon 
them  that  they  yield  to  it,  and  commit  suicide,  as 
a  passionate  man  will  stab  another.  I  have  uften 
thought,"  added  he,  "  that  after  a  man  has  taken 
the  resolution  to  kill  himself,  it  is  not  courage  in 
him  to  do  anything,  however  desperate,  because 
he  has  nothing  to  fear."  "  I  don't  see  that,"  ob- 
served Guldsmith.  "  Nay,  but,  my  dear  sir,"  re- 
joined Johnson,  "  why  should  you  not  see  what 
every  one  else  does  ?"  "  It  is,"  replied  Gold- 
smith, "  for  fear  of  something  that  he  has  resolved 
to  kill  himself  ;  and  will  not  that  timid  disposition 
restrain  him  ?"  "It  does  not  signify,"  pursued 
Johnson,  "  that  the  fear  of  something  made  him 
resolve  ;  it  is  upon  the  state  of  his  mind,  after  the 
resolution  is  taken,  that  I  argue.  Suppose  a  man, 
either  from  fear,  or  pride,  or  conscience,  or  what- 
ever motive,  has  resolved  to  kill  himself  ;  when 
once  the  resolution  is  taken  he  has  nothing  to 
fear.  He  may  then  go  and  take  the  King  of 
Prussia  by  the  nose  at  the  head  ot  his  army.  He 
cannot  fear  the  rack  who  is  determined  to  kill 
himself."  Boswell  reports  no  more  of  the  discus- 
sion, though  Goldsmith  might  have  continued  it 
with  advantage  :  for  the  very  timid  disposition, 
which  through  fear  of  something,  was  impelling 
the  man  to  commit  suicide,  might  restrain  him 
from  an  act,  involving  the  punishment  of  the  rack, 
more  terrible  to  him  than  death  itself. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  in  all  these  reports  by  Bos- 
well, we  have  scarcely  anything  but  the  remarks 
of  Johnson  ;  it  is  only  by  accident  that  he  now 
and  then  gives  us  the  observations  of  others, 
when  they  are  necessary  to  explain  or  set  off  those 
of  his  hero.  "  When  in  that  presence,"  says 
Miss  Burney,  "he  was  unobservant,  if  not  con- 
temptuous of  every  one  else.  In  truth,  when  he 
met  with  Dr.  Johnson,  he  commonly  forbore  even 
answering  anything  that  was  said,  or  attending  to 
anything  that  went  forward,  lest  he  should  miss 
the  smallest  sound  from  that  voice,  to  which  he 
paid  such  exclusive,  though  merited,  homage. 
But  the  moment  that  voice  burst  forth,  the  atten- 
tion which  it  excited  on  Mr.  Boswell  amounted 
almost  to  pain.  His  eyes  goggled  with  eager- 
ness ;  he  leaned  his  ear  almost  on  the  shoulder 
of  the  doctor  ;  and  his  mouth  dropped  open  to 
catch  every  syllable  that  might  be  uttered  ;  nay, 


he  seemed  not  only  to  dread  losing  a  word,  but  to 
be  anxious  not  to  miss  a  breathing  ;  as  if  hoping 
from  it  latently,  or  mystically,  some  informa- 
tion." 

On  one  occasion  the  doctor  detected  Boswell, 
or  Bozzy,  as  he  called  him,  eavesdropping  behind 
his  chair,  as  he  was  conversing  with  Miss  Burney 
at  Mr.  Thraie's  table.  "  What  are  you  doing 
there,  sir  ?"  cried  he,  turning  round  angrily,  and 
clapping  his  hand  upon  his  knee.  "  Go  to  the 
table,  sir." 

Boswell  obeyed  with  an  air  of  affright  and  sub- 
mission, which  raised  a  smile  on  every  face. 
Scarce  had  he  taken  his  seat,  however,  at  a  dis- 
tance, than  impatient  to  get  again  at  the  side  of 
Johnson,  he  rose  and  was  running  off  in  quest  of 
something  to  show  him,  when  the  doctor  roared 
after  him  authoritatively,  "  What  are  you  think- 
ing of,  sir  ?  Why  do  you  get  up  before  the  cloth 
is  removed  ?  Come  back  to  your  place,  sir  ;"  — 
and  the  obsequious  spaniel  did  as  he  was  com- 
manded. "  Running  about  in  the  middle  of 
meals  !"  muttered  the  doctor,  pursing  his  mouth 
at  the  same  time  to  restrain  his  rising  risibility. 

Boswell  got  another  rebuff  from  Johnson,  which 
would  have  demolished  any  other  man.  He  had 
been  teasing  him  with  many  direct  questions, 
such  as  What  did  you  do,  sir  ?  What  did  you 
say,  sir  ?  until  the  great  philologist  became  per- 
fectly enraged.  "  I  will  not  be  put  to  the  ques- 
tion .'"  roared  he.  "Don't  you  consider,  sir, 
that  these  are  not  the  manners  of  a  gentleman  ? 
I  will  not  be  baited  with  what  and  why  ;  What 
is  this  ?  What  is  that  ?  Why  is  a  cow's  tail 
long  ?  Why  is  a  fox's  tail  bushy  ?"  "  Why. 
sir,"  replied  pil-garlick,  "  you  are  so  good  that  I 
venture  to  trouble  you."  "  Sir,"  replied  Johnson, 
"  my  being  so  good  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
be  so  /'//."  "  You  have  but  two  topics,  sir  ;"  ex- 
claimed he  on  another  occasion,  "  yourself  and 
me,  and  I  am  sick  of  both." 

Boswell 's  inveterate  disposition  to  toad  was  a 
sore  cause  of  mortification  to  his  father,  the  old 
laird  of  Auchinleck  (or  Affleck).  He  had  been 
annoyed  by  his  extravagant  devotion  to  Paoli,  but 
then  he  was  something  of  a  military  hero  ;  but 
this  tagging  at  the  heels  of  Dr.  Johnson,  whom  he 
considered  a  kind  of  pedagogue,  set  his  Scotch 
blood  in  a  ferment.  "  There's  nae  hope  for 
Jamie,  mon,"  said  he  to  a  friend  ;  "  Jamie  is 
gaen  clean  gyte.  What  do  you  think,  mon  ?  He's 
done  wi'  Paoli  ;  he's  off  wi'  the  land-louping 
scoundrel  of  a  Corsican  ;  and  whose  tail  do  you 
think  he  has  pinn'd  himself  to  now,  mon  ?  A 
dominie,  mon  ;  an  auld  dominie  :  he  keeped  a 
schiile,  and  cau'd  it  an  acaadamy." 

We  shall  show  in  the  next  chapter  that  Jamie's 
devotion  to  the  dominie  did  not  go  unrewarded. 


CHAPTER   XL. 

CHANGES    IN    THE    LITERARY     CLUB — JOHNSON'S 
OBJECTION  TO  GARRICK — ELECTION   OF  BOSWELL.    i 

THE  Literary  Club  (as  we  have  termed  the  club 
in  Gerard  Street,  though  it  took  that  name  some 
time  later)  had  now  being  in  existence  several 
years.  Johnson  was  exceedingly  chary  at  first  of 
its  exclusiveness,  and  opposed  to  its  being 
augmented  in  number.  Not  long  after  its  insti- 
tution, Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  speaking  of  it  to 
Garrick.  "  I  like  it  much,"  said  little  David, 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


257 


briskly  ;  "  I  think  I  shall  be  of  you."  "  When 
Sir  Joshua  mentioned  this  to  Dr.  Johnson,"  says 
Bos  well,  "  he  was  much  displeased  with  the 
actor's  conceit.  '  He  II  be  of  us  f  '  growled  he. 
'  How  does  he  know  we  will  permit  him  ?  The 
first  duke  in  England  has  no  right  to  hold  such 
language.' 

When  Sir  John  Hawkins  spoke  favorably  of 
Garrick's  pretensions,  "Sir,"  replied  Johnson, 
"  he  will  disturb  us  by  his  buffoonery."  In  the 
same  spirit  he  declared  to  Mr.  Thrale,  that  if  Gar- 
rick  should  apply  for  admission,  he  would  black- 
ball him.  "  Who,  sir  ?"  exclaimed  Thrale,  with 
surprise  ;  "  Mr.  Garrick — your  friend,  your  com- 
panion— black-ball  him  !"  "  Why,  sir,"  replied 
Johnson,  "  I  love  my  little  David  dearly — better 
than  all  or  any  of  his  flatterers  do  ;  but  surely 
one  ought  to  sit  in  a  society  like  ours, 

1  '  Unelbowed  by  a  gamester,  pimp,  or  player.'  " 

The  exclusion  from  the  club  was  a  sore  morti- 
fication to  Garrick,  though  he  bore  it  without 
complaining.  He  could  not  help  continually  to 
ask  questions  about  it — what  was  going  on  there 
— whether  he  was  ever  the  subject  ot  conversa- 
tion. By  degrees  the  rigor  of  the  club  relaxed  : 
some  of  the  members  grew  negligent.  Beauclerc 
lost  his  right  of  membership  by  neglecting  to  at- 
tend. On  his  marriage,  however,  with  Lady 
Diana  Spencer,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Marl- 
borough,  and  recently  divorced  from  Viscount 
Bolingbroke,  he  had  claimed  and  regained  his 
seat  in  the  club.  The  number  of  members  had 
likewise  been  augmented.  The  proposition  to  in- 
crease it  originated  with  Goldsmith.  "  It  would 
give,"  he  thought,  "  an  agreeable  variety  to  their 
meetings  ;  for  there  can  be  nothing  new  among 
us,"  said  he  ;  "  we  have  travelled  over  each 
other's  minds."  Johnson  was  piqued  at  the  sug- 
gestion. "  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  have  not  travelled 
over  my  mind,  I  promise  you."  Sir  Joshua,  less 
confident  in  the  exhaustless  fecundity  of  his  mind, 
felt  and  acknowledged  the  force  of  Goldsmith's 
suggestion.  Several  new  members,  therefore, 
had  been  added  ;  the  first,  to  his  great  joy,  was 
David  Garrick.  Goldsmith,  who  was  now  on  cor- 
dial terms  with  him,  had  zealously  promoted  his 
election,  and  Johnson  had  given  it  his  warm  ap- 
probation. Another  new  member  was  Beau- 
clerc's  friend,  Lord  Charlemont  ;  and  a  still  more 
important  one  was  Mr.,  afterward  Sir  William 
Jones,  the  famous  Orientalist,  at  that  time  a 
young  lawyer  of  the  Temple  and  a  distinguished 
scholar. 

To  the  great  astonishment  of  the  club,  Johnson 
now  proposed  his  devoted  follower,  Boswell,  as  a 
member.  He  did  it  in  a  note  addressed  to  Gold- 
smith, who  presided  on  the  evening  of  the  23d  of 
April.  The  nomination  was  seconded  by  Beau- 
clerc. According  to  the  rules  of  the  club,  the 
ballot  would  take  place  at  the  next  meeting  (on 
the  3Oth)  ;  there  was  an  intervening  week,  there- 
fore, in  which  to  discuss  the  pretensions  of  the 
candidate.  We  may  easily  imagine  the  discus- 
sions that  took  place.  Boswell  had  made  himself 
absurd  in  such,  a  variety  of  ways,  that  the  very 
idea  of  his  admission  was  exceedingly  irksome  to 
some  of  the  members.  "  The  honor  of  being 
elected  into  the  Turk's  Head  Club,"  said  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  "  is  not  inferior  to  that  of 
being  representative  of  Westminster  and  Sur- 
rey:"  what  had  Boswell  done  to  merit  such  an 
honor  ?  What  chance  had  he  of  gaining  it  ? 
The  answer  was  simple  :  he  had  been  the  persever- 
ing worshipper,  if  not  sycophant  of  Johnson.  The 


great  lexicographer  nad  a  heart  to  be  won  by  ap- 
parent affection  ;  he  stood  forth  authoritatively  in 
support  of  his  vassal.  If  asked  to  state  the  merits 
of  the  candidate,  he  summed  them  up  in  an  in- 
definite but  comprehensive  word  of  his  own  coin- 
ing ;  he  was  clubable.  He  moreover  gave  sig- 
nificant hints  that  if  Boswell  were  kept  out  he 
should  oppose  the  admission  of  any  other  candi- 
date. No  further  opposition  was  made  ;  in  fact 
none  of  the  members  had  been  so  fastidious  and 
exclusive  in  regard  to  the  club  as  Johnson  him- 
self ;  and  if  he  were  pleased,  they  were  easily 
satisfied  :  besides,  they  knew  that  with  all  his 
faults,  Boswell  was  a  cheerful  companion,  and 
possessed  lively  social  qualities. 

On  Friday,  wnen  the  ballot  was  to  take  place, 
Beauclerc  gave  a  dinner,  at  his  house  in  the  Adel- 
phi,  where  Boswell  met  several  of  the  members 
who  were  favorable  to  his  election.  After  dinner 
the  latter  adjourned  to  the  club,  leaving  Boswell 
in  company  with  Lady  Di  Beauclerc  until  the  fate 
of  his  election  should  be  known.  He  sat,  he  says, 
in  a  state  of  anxiety  which  even  the  charming  con- 
versation of  Lady  Di  could  not  entirely  dissipate. 
It  was  not  long  before  tidings  were  brought  of 
his  election,  and  he  was  conducted  to  the  place  of 
meeting,  where,  beside  the  company  he  had  met 
at  dinner,  Burke,  Dr.  Nugent,  Garrick,  Gold- 
smith, and  Mr.  William  Jones  were  waiting  to  re- 
ceive him.  The  club,  notwithstanding  all  its 
learned  dignity  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  could  at 
times  "  unbend  and  play  the  fool"  as  well  as 
less  important  bodies.  Some  of  its  jocose  con- 
vers'ations  have  at  times  leaked  out,  and  a  society 
in  which  Goldsmith  could  venture  to  sing  his 
song  of  "  an  old  woman  tossed  in  a  blanket," 
could  not  be  so  very  staid  in  its  gravity.  We  may 
suppose,  therefore,  the  jokes  that  had  been  pass- 
ing among  the  members  while  awaiting  the  ar- 
rival of  Boswell.  Beauclerc  himself  could  not 
have  repressed  his  disposition  for  a  sarcastic 
pleasantry.  At  least  we  have  a  right  to  presume 
all  this  from  the  conduct  of  Dr.  Johnson  himself. 

With  all  his  gravity  he  possessed  a  deep  fund  of 
quiet  humor,  and  felt  a  kind  of  whimsical  respon- 
sibility to  protect  the  club  from  the  absurd  pro- 
pensities ot  the  very  questionable  associate  he  had 
thus  inflicted  on  them.  Rising,  therefore,  as  Bos- 
well entered,  he  advanced  with  a  very  doctorial 
air,  placed  himself  behind  a  chair,  on  which  he 
leaned  as  on  a  desk  or  pulpit,  and  then  delivered, 
ex  cathedra,  a  mock  solemn  charge,  pointing  out 
the  conduct  expected  from  him  as  a  good  mem- 
ber of  the  club  ;  what  he  was  to  do,  and  especially 
what  he  was  to  avoid  ;  including  in  the  latter,  no 
doubt,  all  those  petty,  prying,  questioning,  gos- 
siping, babbling  habits  which  had  so  often  grieved 
the  spirit  of  the  lexicographer.  It  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  Boswell  has  never  thought  proper  to 
note  down  the  particulars  of  this  charge,  which, 
from  the  well  known  characters  and  positions  of 
the  parties,  might  have  furnished  a  parallel  to 
the  noted  charge  of  Launcelot  Gobbo  to  his  dog. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

DINNER  AT  DILLY'S— CONVERSATIONS  ON  NA- 
TURAL HISTORY— INTERMEDDLING  OF  BOS- 
WELL— DISPUTE  ABOUT  TOLERATION — JOHN- 
SON'S REBUFF  TO  GOLDSMITH — HIS  APOLOGY 
— MAN-WORSHIP — DOCTORS  MAJOR  AND  MINOR 
— A  FAREWELL  VISIT. 

A  FEW  days  after  the  serio-comic  scene  of  the 
elevation  of  Boswell  into  the  Literary  Club,  we 


258 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


find  that  indefatigable  biographer  giving  particu- 
lars of  a  dinner  at  the  Dillys,  booksellers,  in  the 
Poultry,  at  which  he  met  Goldsmith  and  Johnson, 
with  several  other  literary  characters.  His  anec- 
dotes of  the  conversation,  of  course,  go  to  glorify 
Dr.  Johnson  ;  for,  as  he  observes  in  his  biography, 
"  his  conversation  alone,  or  what  led  to  it,  or  was 
interwoven  with  it,  is  the  business  of  this  work." 
Still  on  the  present,  as  on  other  occasions,  he 
gives  unintentional  and  perhaps  unavoidable 
gleams  of  Godsmith's  good  sense,  which  show 
that  the  latter  only  wanted  a  less  prejudiced  and 
more  impartial  reporter,  to  put  down  the  charge 
of  colloquial  incapacity  so  unjustly  fixed  upon 
him.  The  conversation  turned  upon  the  natural 
history  of  birds,  a  beautiful  subject,  on  which  the 
poet,  from  his  recent  studies,  his  habits  of  obser- 
vation, and  his  natural  tastes,  must  have  talked 
with  instruction  and  feeling  ;  yet,  though  we  have 
much  of  what  Johnson  said,  we  have  only  a  casual 
remark  or  two  of  Goldsmith.  One  was  on  the 
migration  of  swallows,  which  he  pronounced  par- 
tial ;  "  the  stronger  ones,"  said  he,  "  migrate,  the 
others  do  not." 

Johnson  denied  to  the  brute  creation  the  faculty 
of  reason.  "  Birds,"  said  he,  "  build  by  instinct  ; 
they  never  improve  ;  they  build  their  first  nest  as 
well  as  any  one  they  ever  build."  "  Yet  we  see," 
observed  Goldsmith,  "  if  you  take  away  a  bird's 
nest  with  the  eggs  in  it,  she  will  make  a  slighter 
nest  and  lay  again."  "Sir,"  replied  Johnson, 
"  that  is  because  at  first  she  has  full  time,  and 
makes  her  nest  deliberately.  In  the  case  you 
mention,  she  is  pressed  to  lay,  and  must,  there- 
fore, make  her  nest  quickly,  and  consequently  it 
will  be  slight."  "  The  nidification  of  birds,"  re- 
joined Goldsmith,  "  is  what  is  least  known  in 
natural  history,  though  one  of  the  most  curious 
things  in  it."  While  conversation  was  going  on 
in  this  placid,  agreeable  and  instructive  manner, 
the  eternal  meddler  and  busy-body  Boswell,  must 
intrude,  to  put  it  in  a  brawl.  The  Dillys  were 
dissenters  ;  two  of  their  guests  were  dissenting 
clergymen  ;  another,  Mr.  Toplady,  was  a  clergy- 
man of  the  established  church.  Johnson,  him- 
self, was  a  zealous,  uncompromising  churchman. 
None  but  a  marplot  like  Boswell  would  have 
thought,  on  such  an  occasion,  and  in  such  com- 
pany, to  broach  the  subject  of  religious  tolera- 
tion ;  but,  as  has  been  well  observed,  "  it  was  his 
perverse  inclination  to  introduce  subjects  that  he 
hoped  would  produce  difference  and  debate."  In 
the  present  instance  he  gained  his  point.  An  ani- 
mated dispute  immediately  arose,  in  which,  ac- 
cording to  Boswell 's  report,  Johnson  monopolized 
the  greater  part  of  the  conversation  ;  not  always 
treating  the  dissenting  clergymen  with  the  greatest 
courtesy,  and  even  once  wounding  the  feelings 
of  the  mild  and  amiable  Bennet  Langton  by  his 
harshness. 

Goldsmith  mingled  a  little  in  the  dispute  and 
with  some  advantage,  but  was  cut  short  by  flat 
contradictions  when  most  in  the  right.  He  sat 
tor  a  time  silent  but  impatient  under  such  over- 
bearing dogmatism,'  though  Boswell,  with  his 
usual  misinterpretation,  attributes  his  "  restless 
agitation"  to  a  wish  to  get  in  and  shine.  "  Find- 
ing himself  excluded,"  continues  Boswell,  "  he 
has  taken  his  hat  to  go  away,  but  remained  for  a 
time  with  it  in  his  hand,  like  a  gamester,  who,  at 
the  end  of  a  long  night,  lingers  for  a  little  while 
to  see  if  he  can  have  a  favorable  opportunity  to 
finish  with  success."  Once  he  was  beginning  to 
speak  when  he  was  overpowered  by  the  loud 
voice  of  Johnson,  who  was  at  the  opposite  end  of 


the  table,  and  did  not  perceive  his  attempt ; 
whereupon  he  threw  down,  as.it  were,  his  hat  and 
his  argument,  and,  darting  an  angry  glance  at 
Johnson,  exclaimed  in  a  bitter  tone,  "  Take  it." 

Just  then  one  of  the  disputants  was  beginning 
to  speak,  when  Johnson  uttering  some  sound,  as 
if  about  to  interrupt  him,  Goldsmith,  according  to 
Boswell,  seized  the  opportunity  to  vent  his  own 
envy  and  spleen  under  pretext  of  supporting 
another  person.  "Sir,"  said  he  to  Johnson, 
"  the  gentleman  has  heard  you  patiently  for  an 
hour  ;  pray  allow  us  now  to  hear  him."  It  was  a 
reproof  in  the  lexicographer's  own  style,  and  he 
may  have  felt  that  he  merited  it  ;  but  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  be  reproved.  "Sir,"  said  he, 
sternly,  "  I  was  not  interrupting  the  gentleman  ; 
I  was  only  giving  him  a  signal  of  my  attention. 
Sir,  you  are  impertinent."  Goldsmith  made  no 
reply,  but  after  some  time  went  away,  having 
another  engagement. 

That  evening,  as  Boswell  was  on  the  way  with 
Johnson  and  Langton  to  the  club,  he  seized  the 
occasion  to  make  some  disparaging  remarks  on 
Goldsmith,  which  he  thought  would  just  then  be 
acceptable  to  the  great  lexicographer.  "  It  was 
a  pity,"  he  said,  "  that  Goldsmith  would,  on 
every  occasion,  endeavor  to  shine,  by  which  he  so 
often  exposed  himself."  Langton  contrasted  him 
with  Addison,  who,  content  with  the  fame  of  his 
writings,  acknowledged  himself  unfit  for  conver- 
sation ;  and  on  being  taxed  by  a  lady  with  silence 
in  company,  replied,  "  Madam,  I  have  but  nine 
pence  in  ready  money,  but  I  can  draw  for  a  thou- 
sand pounds."  To  this  Boswell  rejoined  that 
Goldsmith  had  a  great  deal  of  gold  in  his  cabinet, 
but  was  always  taking  out  his  purse.  "  Yes, 
sir,"  chuckled  Johnson,  "and  that  so  often  an 
empty  purse." 

By  the  time  Johnson  arrived  at  the  club,  how- 
ever, his  angry  feelings  had  subsided,  and  his  na- 
tive generosity  and  sense  of  justice  had  got  the 
uppermost.  He  found  Goldsmith  in  company 
with  Burke,  Garrick,  and  other  members,  but  sit- 
ting silent  and  apart,  "  brooding,"  as  Boswell 
says,  "  over  the  reprimand  he  had  received." 
Johnson's  good  heart  yearned  toward  him  ;  and 
knowing  his  placable  nature,  "  I'll  make  Gold- 
smith forgive  me,"  whispered  he  ;  then,  with  a 
loud  voice,  "Dr.  Goldsmith,"  said  he,  "some- 
thing passed  to-day  where  you  and  I  dined — I  ask 
your  pardon."  The  ire  of  the  poet  was  extin- 
guished in  an  instant,  and  his  grateful  affection 
for  the  magnanimous  though  sometimes  overbear- 
ing moralist  rushed  to  his  heart.  "  It  must  be 
much  from  you,  sir,"  said  he,  "  that  I  take  ill  !" 
"  And  so,"  adds  Boswell,  "  the  difference  was 
over,  and  they  were  on  as  easy  terms  as  ever,  and 
Goldsmith  rattled  away  as  usual."  We  do  not 
think  these  stories  tell  to  the  poet's  disadvantage, 
even  though  related  by  Boswell. 

Goldsmith,  with  all  his  modesty,  could  not  be 
ignorant  of  his  proper  merit  ;  and  must  have  felt 
annoyed  at  times  at  being  undervalued  and 
elbowed  aside  by  light-minded  or  dull  men,  in 
their  blind  and  exclusive  homage  to  the  literary 
autocrat.  It  was  a  fine  reproof  he  gave  to  Bos- 
well on  one  occasion,  for  talking  of  Johnson  as  en- 
titled to  the  honor  of  exclusive  superiority.  "  Sir, 
you  are  for  making  a  monarchy  what  should  be  a 
republic."  On  another  occasion,  when  he  was 
conversing  in  company  with  great  vivacity,  and 
apparently  to  the  satisfaction  of  those  around 
him,  an  honest  Swiss,  who  sat  near,  one  George 
Michael  Moser,  keeper  of  the  Royal  Academy, 
perceiving  Dr.  Johnson  rolling  himself  as  if  about 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


259 


to  speak,  exclaimed,  "  Stay,  stay  !  Toctor  Shon- 
son  is  going  to  say  something."  "  And  are  you 
sure,  sir,"  replied  Goldsmith,  sharply,  "  that  you 
can  comprehend  what  he  says  ?" 

This  clever  rebuke,  which  gives  the  main  zest 
to  the  anecdote,  is  omitted  by  Boswell,  who 
probably  did  not  perceive  the  point  of  it. 

He  relates  another  anecdote  of  the  kind,  on  the 
authority  of  Johnson  himself.  The  latter  and 
Goldsmith  were  one  evening  in  company  with  the 
Rev.  George  Graham,  a  master  of  Eton,  who, 
notwithstanding  the  sobriety  of  his  cloth,  had 
got  intoxicated  "  to  about  the  pitch  of  looking  at 
one  man  and  talking  to  another."  "  Doctor," 
cried  he  in  an  ecstasy  of  devotion  and  good-will, 
but  goggling  by  mistake  upon  Goldsmith,  "  I 
should  be  glad  to  see  you  at  Eton."  "  I  shall  be 
glad  to  wait  upon  you,"  replied  Goldsmith." 
"  No,  no  !"  cried  the  other  eagerly,"  'tis  not  you 
I  mean,  Doctor  Minor,  'tis  Doctor  Major  there." 
"  You  may  easily  conceive,"  said  Johnson  in  re- 
lating the  anecdote,  "  what  effect  this  had  upon 
Goldsmith,  who  was  irascible  as  a  hornet."  The 
only  comment,  however,  which  he  is  said  to  have 
made,  partakes  more  of  quaint  and  dry  humor 
than  bitterness  :  "  That  Graham,"  said  he,  "  is 
enough  to  make  one  commit  suicide."  What 
more  could  be  said  to  express  the  intolerable 
nuisance  of  a  consummate  bore  ? 

We  have  now  given  the  last  scenes  between 
Goldsmith  and  Johnson  which  stand  recorded  by 
Boswell.  The  latter  called  on  the  poet  a  few  days 
after  the  dinner  at  Dilly's,  to  take  leave  of  him 
prior  to  departing  for  Scotland  ;  yet,  even  in  this 
last  interview,  he  contrives  to  get  up  a  charge  of 
"  jealousy  and  envy."  Goldsmith,  he  would  fain 
persuade  us,  is  very  angry  that  Johnson  is  going 
to  travel  with  him  in  Scotland  ;  and  endeavors  to 
persuade  him  that  he  will  be  a  dead  weight  "  to 
lug  along  through  the  Highlands  and  Hebrides." 
Anyone  else,  knowing  the  character  and  habits  of 
Johnson,  would  have  thought  the  same  ;  and  no 
one  but  Boswell  would  have  supposed  his  office  of 
bear-leader  to  the  ursa  major  a  thing  to  be 
envied.* 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

PROJECT  OF  A  DICTIONARY  OF  ARTS  AND  SCI- 
ENCES —  DISAPPOINTMENT  —  NEGLIGENT  AU- 
THORSHIP— APPLICATION  FOR  A  PENSION — 
BEATTIE'S  ESSAY  ON  TRUTH — PUBLIC  ADULA- 
TION— A  HIGH-MINDED  REBUKE. 

THE  works  which  Goldsmith   had  still  in  hand 
being  already  paid  for,  and  the  money  gone,  some 


*  One  of  Peter  Pindar's  (Dr.  Wolcot)  most  amus- 
ingjeux  d' esprit  is  his  congratulatory  epistle  to  Bos- 
well on  this  tour,  of  which  we  subjoin  a  few  lines. 

O  Boswell,  Bozzy,  Bruce,  whate'er  thy  name, 
Thou  mighty  shark  for  anecdote  and  fame  ; 
Thou  jackal,  leading  lion  Johnson  forth, 
To  eat  M'Pherson  'midst  his  native  north  ; 
To  frighten  grave  professors  with  his  roar,, 

And  shake  the  Hebrides  from  shore  to  shore. 

****** 

Bless'd  be  thy  labors,  most  adventurous  Bo/zy, 
Bold  rival  of  Sir  John  and  Dame  Pio/zi  ; 
Heavens  !  with  what  laurels  shall  thy  head  be  crown'd  ! 
A  grove,  a  forest,  shall  thy  ears  surround  ! 
Yes  !  whilst  the  Rambler  shall  a  comet  blaze, 
And  giid  a  world  of  darkness  with  his  rays, 
Thee,  too,  that  world  with  wonderment  shall  hail, 
A  lively,  bouncing  cracker  at  his  tail.' 


new  scheme  must  be  devised  to  •  provide  for  the 
past  and  the  future — for  impending  debts  which 
threatened  to  crush  him,  and  expenses  which 
were  continually  increasing.  He  now  projected 
a  work  of  greater  compass  than  any  he  had  yet 
undertaken  ;  a  Dictionary  of  Arts  and  Sciences 
on  a  comprehensive  scale,  which  was  to  occupy  a 
number  of  volumes.  For  this  he  received  prom- 
ises of  assistance  from  several  powerful  hands. 
Johnson  was  to  contribute  an  article  on  ethics  ; 
Burke,  an  abstract  of  his  "  Essay  on  the  Sublime 
and  Beautiful,"  an  essay  on  the  Berkleyan  system 
of  philosophy,  and  others  on  political  science  ;  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  an  essay  on  painting  ;  and  Gar- 
rick,  while  he  undertook  on  his  own  part  to  fur- 
nish an  essay  on  acting,  engaged  Dr.  Burney  to 
contribute  an  article  on  music.  Here  was  a  great 
array  of  talent  positively  engaged,  while  other 
writers  of  eminence  were  to  be  sought  for  the 
various  departments  of  science.  Goldsmith  was 
to  edit  the  whole.  An  undertaking  of  this  kind, 
while  it  did  not  incessantly  task  and  exhaust  his 
inventive  powers  by  original  composition,  would 
give  agreeable  and  profitable  exercise  to  his  taste 
and  judgment  in  selecting,  compiling,  and  arrang- 
ing, and  he  calculated  to  diffuse  over  the  whole 
the  acknowledged  graces  of  his  style. 

He  drew  up  a  prospectus  of  the  plan,  which 
is  said  by  Bishop  Percy,  who  saw  it,  to  have  been 
written  with  uncommon  ability,  and  to  have  had 
that  perspicuity  and  elegance  for  which  his  writ- 
ings are  remarkable.  This  paper,  unfortunately, 
is  no  longer  in  existence. 

Goldsmith's  expectations,  always  sanguine  re- 
specting any  new  plan,  were  raised  to  an  extraor- 
dinary height  by  the  present  project  ;  and  well 
they  might  be,  when  we  consider  the  powerful 
coadjutors  already  pledged.  They  were  doomed, 
however,  to  complete  disappointment.  Davies, 
the  bibliopole  of  Russell  Street,  lets  us  into  the 
secret  of  this  failure.  "  The  booksellers,"  said 
he,  "  notwithstanding  they  had  a  very  good  opin- 
ion of  his  abilities,  yet  were  startled  at  the  bulk, 
importance,  and  expense  of  so  great  an  undertak- 
ing, the  fate  of  which  was  to  depend  upon  the  in- 
dustry of  a  man  with  whose  indolence  of  temper 
and  method  of  procrastination  they  had  long  been 
acquainted." 

Goldsmith  certainly  gave  reason  for  some  such 
distrust  by  the  heedlessness  with  which  he  con- 
ducted his  literary  undertakings.  Those  unfin- 
ished, but  paid  for,  would  be  suspended  to  make 
way  for  some  job  that  was  to  provide  for  present 
necessities.  Those  thus  hastily  taken  up  would 
be  as  hastily  executed,  and  the  whole,  however 
pressing,  would  be  shoved  aside  and  left  "  at 
loose  ends,"  on  some  sudden  call  to  social  enjoy- 
ment or  recreation. 

Cradock  tells  us  that  on  one  occasion,  when 
Goldsmith  was  hard  at  work  on  his  Natural  His-, 
tory,  he  sent  to  Dr.  Percy  and  himself,  entreating 
them  to  finish  some  pages  of  his  work  which  lay 
upon  his  table,  and  for  which  the  press  was 
urgent,  he  being  detained  by  other  engagements 
at  Windsor.  They  met  by  appointment  at  his 
chambers  in  the  Temple,  where  they  found  every- 
thing in  disorder,  and  costly  books  lying  scattered 
about  on  the  tables  and  on  the  HOT  ;  many  of  the 
books  on  natural  history  which  he  had  recently  con- 
sulted lay  open  among  uncorrected  proof-sheets. 
The  subject  in  hand,  and  from  which  he  had  sud- 
denly broken  off,  related  to  birds.  "  Do  you 
know  anything  about  birds  ?"  asked  Dr.  Percy, 
smiling.  "  Not  an  atom,"  replied  Cradock ; 
"  do  you  ?"  "  Not  I  !  I  scarcely  know  a  goose 


2GO 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


from  a  swan  :  however,  let  us  try  what  we  can 
do."  They  set  to  work  and  completed  their 
friendly  task.  Goldsmith,  however,  when  he 
came  to  revise  it,  made  such  alterations  that  they 
could  neither  of  them  recognize  their  own  share. 
The  engagement  at  Windsor,  which  had  thus 
caused  Goldsmith  to  break  off  suddenly  from  his 
multifarious  engagements,  was  a  party  of  pleasure 
with  some  literary  ladies.  Another  anecdote  was 
current,  illustrative  of  the  carelessness  with 
which  he  executed  works  requiring  accuracy  and 
research.  On  the  22d  of  June  he  had  received 
payment  in  advance  for  a  Grecian  History  in  two 
volumes,  though  only  one  was  finished.  As  he 
was  pushing  on  doggedly  at  the  second  volume, 
Gibbon,  the  historian,  called  in.  "  You  are  the 
man  of  all  others  I  wish  to  see,"  cried  the  poet, 
glad  to  be  saved  the  trouble  of  reference  to  his 
books.  "  What  was  the  name  of  that  Indian  king 
who  gave  Alexander  the  Great  so  much  trouble  ?" 
"  Montezuma,"  replied  Gibbon,  sportively.  The 
heedless  author  was  about  committing  the  name 
to  paper  without  reflection,  when  Gibbon  pre- 
tended to  recollect  himself,  and  gave  the  true 
name,  Porus. 

This  story,  very  probably,  was  a  sportive  exag- 
geration; but  it  was  a  multiplicity  of  anecdotes 
like  this  and  the  preceding  one,  some  true  and 
some  false,  which  had  impaired  the  confidence  of 
booksellers  in  Goldsmith,  as  a  man  to  be  relied  on 
for  a  task  requiring  wide  and  accurate  research, 
and  close  and  long-continued  application.  The 
project  of  the  Universal  Dictionary,  therefore,  met 
with  no  encouragement,  and  fell  through. 

The  failure  of  this  scheme,  on  which  he  had 
built  such  spacious  hopes,  sank  deep  into  Gold- 
smith's heart.  He  was  still  further  grieved  and 
mortified  by  the  failure  of  an  effort  made  by 
some  of  his  friends  to  obtain  for  him  a  pension 
from  government.  There  had  been  a  talk  of  the 
disposition  of  the  ministry  to  extend  the  bounty  of 
the  crown  to  distinguished  literary  men  in  pe- 
cuniary difficulty,  without  regard  to  their  politi- 
cal creed  :  when  the  merits  and  claims  of  Gold- 
smith, however,  were  laid  before  them,  they  met 
no  favor.  The  sin  of  sturdy  independence  lay  at 
his  door.  He  had  refused  to  become  a  minis- 
terial hack  when  offered  a  carte  blanche  by  Par- 
son Scott,  the  cabinet  emissary.  The  wondering 
parson  had  left  him  in  poverty  and  "  his  garret" 
and  there  the  ministry  were  disposed  to  suffer  him 
t'o  remain." 

In  the  mean  time  Dr.  Beattie  comes  out  with 
his  "  Essay  on  Truth,"  and  all  the  orthodox  world 
are  thrown  into  a  paroxysm  ol  contagious  ecstasy. 
He  is  cried  up  as  the  great  champion  of  Chris- 
tianity against  the  attacks  of  modern  philosophers 
and  infidels  ;  he  is  feted  and  flattered  in  every 
way.  He  receives  at  Oxford  the  honorary  degree 
of  doctor  of  civil  law,  at  the  same  time  with  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds.  The  king  sends  for  him, 
praises  his  "  Essay,"  and  gives  him  a  pension  of 
two  hundred  pounds. 

Goldsmith  feels  more  acutely  the  denial  of  a 
pension  to  himself  when  one  has  thus  been  given 
unsolicited  to  a  man  he  might  without  vanity  con- 
sider so  much  his  inferior.  He  was  not  one  to 
conceal  his  feelings.  "  Here's  such  a  stir,"  said 
he  one  day  at  Thrale's  table,  "  about  a  fellow 
that  has  written  one  book,  and  I  have  written  so 
many  !" 

"  Ah,  doctor  !"  exclaimed  Johnson,  in  one  oi 
his  caustic  moods,  "there  go  two  and  forty  six- 
pences, you  know,  to  one  guinea."  This  is  one  of 
the  cuts  at  poor  Goldsmith  in  which  Johnson  went 


contrary  to  head  and  heart  in  his  love  for  saying 
what  is  called  a  "  good  thing."  No  one  knew 
better  than  himself  the  comparative  superiority 
of  the  writings  of  Goldsmith  ;  but  the  jingle  of 
the  sixpences  and  the  guinea  was  not  to  be  re- 
sisted. 

"  Everybody,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thrale,  "  loves 
Dr.  Beattie,  but  Goldsmith,  who  says  he  cannot 
bear  the  sight  of  so  much  applause  as  they  all  be- 
stow upon  him.  Did  he  not  tell  us  so  himself  no 
one  would  believe  he  was  so  exceedingly  ill- 
natured." 

He  told  them  so  himself  because  he  was  too 
open  and  unreserved  to  disguise  his  feelings,  and 
because  he  really  considered  the  praise  lavished 
on  Beattie  extravagant,  as  in  fact  it  was.  It  was 
all,  of  course,  set  down  to  sheer  envy  and  un- 
charitableness.  To  add  to  his  annoyance,  he 
found  his  friend,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  joining  in 
the  universal  adulation.  He  had  painted  a  full- 
length  portrait  of  Beattie  decked  in  the  doctor's 
robes  in  which  he  had  figured  at  Oxford,  with  the 
"  Essay  on  Truth"  under  his  arm  and  the  angel 
of  truth  at  his  side,  while  Voltaire  figured  as  one 
of  the  demons  of  infidelity,  sophistry,  and  false- 
hood, driven  into  utter  darkness. 

Goldsmith  had  known  Voltaire  in  early  life  ;  he 
had  been  his  admirer  and  his  biographer  ;  he 
grieved  to  find  him  receiving  such  an  insult  Irom 
the  classic  pencil  of  his  friend.  "  It  is  unworthy 
of  you,"  said  he  to  Sir  Joshua,  "to  debase  so 
high  a  genius  as  Voltaire  before  so  mean  a  writer 
as  Beattie.  Beattie  and  his  book  will  be  forgotten 
in:ten  years,  while  Voltaire's  fame  will  last  for- 
ever. Take  care  it  does  not  perpetuate  this  pic- 
ture to  the  shame  of  such  a  man  as  you."  This 
noble  and  high-minded  rebuke  is  the  only  instance 
on  record  of  any  reproachful  words  between  the 
poet  and  .he  painter  ;  and  we  are  happy  to  find 
that  it  did  not  destroy  the  harmony  of  their  inter- 
course. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

TOIL  WITHOUT  HOPE— THE  POET  IN  THE  GREEN- 
ROOM— IN  THE  FLOWER  GARDEN — AT  VAUX- 
HALL — DISSIPATION  WITHOUT  GAYETY— CRA- 
DOCK  IN  TOWN — FRIENDLY  SYMPATHY — A 
PARTING  SCENE — AN  INVITATION  TO  PLEAS- 
URE. 

THWARTED  in  the  plans  and  disappointed  in  the 
hopes  which  had  recently  cheered  and  animated 
him,  Goldsmith  found  the  labor  at  his  half-fin- 
ished tasks  doubly  irksome  from  the  consciousness 
that  the  completion  of  them  could  not  relieve  him 
from  his  pecuniary  embarrassments.  His  im- 
paired health,  also,  rendered  him  less  capable 
than  formerly  of  sedentary  application,  and  con- 
tinual perplexities  disturbed  the  flow  of  thought 
necessary  for  original  composition.  He  lost  his 
usual  gayety  and  good-humor,  and  became,  at 
times,  peevish  and  irritable.  Too  proud  of  spirit 
to  seek  sympathy  or  relief  from  his  friends,  for 
the  pecuniary  difficulties  he  had  brought  upon 
himself-  by  his  errors  and  extravagance  ;  and  un- 
willing, perhaps,  to  make  known  their  amount,  he 
buried  his  cares  and  anxieties  in  his  own  bosom, 
and  endeavored  in  company  to  keep  up  his  usual 
air  of  gayety  and  unconcern.  This  gave  his  con- 
duct an  appearance  of  fittulness  and  caprice,  vary- 
ing suddenly  from  moodiness  to  mirth,  and  from 
silent  gravity  to  shallow  laughter  ;  causing  sur- 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


261 


prise  and  ridicule  in  those  who  were  not  aware 
of  the  sickness  of  heart  which  lay  beneath. 

His  poetical  reputation,  too,  was  sometimes  a 
disadvantage  to  him;  it  drew  upon  him  a 
notoriety  which  he  was  not  always  in  the  mood  or 
the  vein  to  act  up  to.  "  Good  heavens,  Mr.  Foote,' 
exclaimed  an  actress  at  the  Haymarket  Theatre, 
"  what  a  humdrum  kind  of  man  Dr.  Goldsmith 
appears  in  our  green-room  compared  with  the 
figure  he  makes  in  his  poetry  !"  "  The  reason  of 
that,  madam,  replied  Foote,  "  is  because  the 
muses  are  better  company  than  the  players." 

Beauclerc's  letters  to  his  friend,  Lord  Charle- 
mont,  who  was  absent  in  Ireland,  give  us  now  and 
then  an  indication  of  the  whereabout  of  the  poet 
during  the  present  year.  "  I  have  been  but  once 
to  the  club  since  you  left  England,"  writes  he  ; 
"  we  were  entertained,  as  usual,  with  Goldsmith's 
absurdity."  With  Beauclerc  everything  was 
absurd  that  was  not  polished  and  pointed.  In 
another  letter  he  threatens,  unless  Lord  Charle- 
mont  returns  to  England,  to  bring  over  the  whole 
club,  and  let  them  loose  upon  him  to  drive  him 
home  by  their  peculiar  habits  of  annoyance — 
Johnson  shaft  spoil  his  books  ;  Goldsmith  shall 
pull  his  flowers  ;  and  last,  and  most  intolerable 
of  all,  Boswell  shall — talk  to  him.  It  would  ap- 
pear that  the  poet,  who  had  a  passion  for  flowers, 
was  apt  to  pass  much  of  his  time  in  the  garden 
when  on  a  visit  to  a  country  seat,  much  to  the 
detriment  of  the  flower-beds  and  the  despair  of 
the  gardener. 

The  summer  wore  heavily  away  with  Goldsmith. 
He  had  not  his  usual  solace  of  a  country  retreat  ; 
his  health  was  impaired  and  his  spirits  depressed. 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  who  perceived  the  state  of 
his  mind,  kindly  gave  him  much  of  his  company. 
In  the  course  of  their  interchange  of  thought, 
Goldsmith  suggested  to  him  the  story  of  Ugolino, 
as  a  subject  for  his  pencil.  The  painting  founded 
on  it  remains  a  memento  of  their  friendship. 

On  the  4th  of  August  we  find  them  together  at 
Vauxhall  ;  at  that  time  a  place  in  high  vogue, 
and  which  had  once  been  to  Goldsmith  a  scene  of 
Oriental  splendor  and  delight.  We  have,  in  fact, 
in  the  "  Citizen  of  the  World,"  a  picture  of  it  as  it 
had  struck  him  in  former  years  and  in  his  happier 
moods.  "  Upon  entering  the  gardens,"  says  the 
Chinese  philosopher,  "  I  found  every  sense  occu- 
pied with  more  than  expected  pleasure  ;  the  lights 
everywhere  glimmering  through  the  scarcely- 
moving  trees  ;  the  full-bodied  concert  bursting  on 
the  stillness  of  the  night  ;  the  natural  concert  of 
the  birds  in  the  more  retired  part  of  the  grove, 
vying  with  that  which  was  formed  by  art  ;  the 
company  gayly  dressed,  looking  satisfaction,  and 
the  tables  spread  with  various  delicacies,  all  con- 
spired to  fill  my  imagination  with  the  visionary 
happiness  of  the  Arabian  lawgiver,  and  lifted  me 
into  an  ecstasy  of  admiration.' '  * 

Everything  now,  however,  is  seen  with  different 
eyes  ;  with  him  it  is  dissipation  without  pleasure  ; 
and  he  finds  it  impossible  any  longer,  by  mingling 
in  the  gay  and  giddy  throng  of  apparently  pros- 
perous and  happy  beings,  to  escape  from  the 
carking  care  which  is  clinging  to  his  heart. 

His  kind  friend,  Cradock,  came  up  to  town 
toward  autumn,  when  all  the  fashionable  world 
was  in  the  country,  to  give  his  wife  the  benefit  of 
a  skilful  dentist.  He  took  lodgings  in  Norfolk 
Street,  to  be  in  Goldsmith's  neighborhood,  and 
passed  most  of  his  mornings  with  him.  "  I  found 
him,"  he  says  "  much  altered  and  at  times  very 

*  Citizen  of  the  World,  Letter  xxi. 


low.  He  wished  me  to  look  over  and  revise  some 
of  his  works  ;  but,  with  a  select  friend  or  two,  I 
was  more  pressing  that  he  should  publish  by  sub- 
scription his  two  celebrated  poems  of  the 
'Traveller'  and  the  'Deserted  Village,'  with 
notes."  The  idea  of  Cradock  was,  that  the  sub- 
scription would  enable  wealthy  persons,  favorable 
to  Goldsmith,  to  contribute  to  his  pecuniary  relief 
without  wounding  his  pride.  "  Goldsmith,"  said 
he,  "  readily  gave  up  to  me  his  private  copies, 
and  said,  '  Pray  do  what  you  please  with  them.' 
But  while  he  sat  near  me,  he  rather  submitted  to 
than  encouraged  my  zealous  proceedings. 

"  I  one  morning  called  upon  him,  however,  and 
found  him  infinitely  better  than  I  had  expected  ; 
and,  in  a  kind  of  exulting  style,  he  exclaimed, 
'  Here  are  some  ol  the  best  of  my  prose  writings  ; 
I  have  been  hard  at  work  since  midnight,  and  I 
desire  you  to  examine  them.'  '  These,'  said  I, 
'  are  excellent  indeed.'  '  They  are,'  replied  he, 
'  intended  as  an  introduction  to  a'bodyot  arts  and 
sciences.'  ' 

Poor  Goldsmith  was,  in  fact,  gathering  together 
the  fragments  of  his  shipwreck  ;  the  notes  and 
essays,  and  memoranda  collected  for  his  diction- 
ary, and  proposed  to  found  on  them  a  work  in 
two  volumes,  to  be  entitled  "  A  Survey  of  Experi- 
mental Philosophy." 

The  plan  of  the  subscription  came  to  nothing, 
and  the  projected  survey  never  was  executed. 
The  head  might  yet  devise,  but  the  heart  was  fail- 
ing him  ;  his  talent  at  hoping,  which  gave  him 
buoyancy  to  carry  out  his  enterprises,  was  almost 
at  an  end. 

Cradock's  farewell  scene  with  him  is  told  in  a 
simple  but  touching  manner. 

"  The  day  before  I  was  to  set  out  for  Leices- 
tershire, 1  insisted  upon  his  dining  with  us.  He 
replied,  '  I  will,  but  on  one  condition,  that  you 
will  not  ask  me  to  eat  anything.'  '  Nay,"  said  I, 
'  this  answer  is  absolutely  unkind,  for  I  had  hoped, 
as  we  are  supplied  from  the  Crown  and  Anchor, 
that  you  would  have  named  something  you  might 
have  relished.'  '  Well,'  was  the  reply,  '  if  you 
will  but  explain  it  to  Mrs.  Cradock,  I  will  cer- 
tainly wait  upon  you.' 

"  The  doctor  found,  as  usual,  at  my  apart- 
ments, newspapers  and  pamphlets,  and  with  a  pen 
and  ink  he  amused  himself  as  well  as  he  could.  I 
had  ordered  from  the  tavern  some  fish,  a  roasted 
joint  of  lamb,  and  a  tart  ;  and  the  doctor  either 
sat  down  or  walked  about  just  as  he  pleased. 
After  dinner  he  took  some  wine  with  biscuits  ; 
but  I  was  obliged  soon  to  leave  him  for  a  while, 
as  I  had  matters  to  settle  prior  to  my  next  day's 
journey.  On  my  return  coffee  was  ready,  and  the 
doctor  appeared  more  cheerful  (for  Mrs.  Cradock 
was  always  rather  a  favorite  with  him),  and  in  the 
evening  he  endeavored  to  talk  and  remark  as 
usual,  but  all  was  forced.  He  stayed  till  mid- 
night, and  I  insisted  on  seeing  him  sate  home, 
and  we  most  cordially  shook  hands  at  the  Tem- 
ple gate."  Cradock  little  thought  that  this  was  to 
be  their  final  parting.  He  looked  back  to  it  with 
mournful  recollections  in  after  years,  and  lament- 
ed that  he  had  not  remained  longer  in  town  at 
every  inconvenience,  to  solace  the  poor  broken- 
spirited  poet. 

The  latter  continued  in  town  all  the  autumn. 
At  the  opening  of  the  Opera  House,  on  the  20th 
of  November,  Mrs.  Yates,  an  actress  whom  he 
held  in  great  esteem,  delivered  a  poetical  ex- 
ordium of  his  composition.  Beauclerc,  in  a  letter 
to  Lord  Charlemont,  pronounced  it  very  good,  and 
predicted  that  it  would  soon  be  in  all  the  papers.. 


262 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


It  does  not  appear,  however,  to  have  been  ever 
published.  In  his  fitful  state  of  mind  Goldsmith 
may  have  taken  no  care  about  it,  and  thus  it  has 
been  lost  to  the  world,  although  it  was  received 
with  great  applause  by  a  crowded  and  brilliant 
audience. 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  breaks  through  the  gloom 
that  was  gathering  over  the  poet.  Toward  the 
end  of  the  year  he  receives  another  Christmas  in- 
vitation to  Barton.  A  country  Christmas  !  with 
all  the  cordiality  of  the  fireside  circle,  and  the 
joyous  revelry  of  the  oaken  hall — what  a  contrast 
to  the  loneliness  of  a  bachelor's  chambers  in  the 
Temple  !  It  is  not  to  be  resisted.  But  how  is 
poor  Goldsmith  to  raise  the  ways  and  means  ? 
His  purse  is  empty  ;  his  booksellers  are  already  in 
advance  to  him.  As  a  last  resource,  he  applies  to 
Garrick.  Their  mutual  intimacy  at  Barton  may 
have  suggested  him  as  an  alternative.  The  old 
loan  of  forty  pounds  has  never  been  paid  ;  and 
Newbery's  note,  pledged  as  a  security,  has  never 
been  taken  up.  An  additional  loan  ot  sixty 
pounds  is  now  asked  for,  thus  increasing  the  loan 
to  one  hundred  ;  to  insure  the  payment,  he  now 
offers,  besides  Newbery's  note,  the  transier  of 
the  comedy  of  the  Good  Natured  Man  to  Drury 
Lane,  with  such  alterations  as  Garrick  may  sug- 
gest. Garrick,  in  reply,  evades  the  offer  of  the 
altered  comedy,  alludes  significantly  to  a  new  one 
which  Goldsmith  had  talked  ot  writing  for  him, 
and  offers  to  furnish  the  money  required  on  his 
own  acceptance. 

The  reply  of  Goldsmith  bespeaks  a  heart  brim- 
ful of  gratitude  and  overflowing  with  fond  antici- 
pations of  Barton  and  the  smiles  of  its  fair  resi- 
dents. "  My  dear  friend,"  writes  he,  "  I  thank 
you.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  to  serve  you. 
I  shall  have  a  comedy  for  you  in  a  season,  or  two 
at  farthest,  that  I  believe  will  be  worth  your  ac- 
ceptance, for  I  fancy  I  will  make  it  a  fine  thing. 
You  shall  have  the  refusal.  ...  I  will  draw 
upon  you  one  month  after  date  for  sixty  pounds, 
and  your  acceptance  will  be  ready  money,  part  of 
iv hick  I  want  to  go  down  to  Barton  with.  May 
God  preserve  my  honest  little  man,  for  he  has  my 
heart.  Ever, 

"  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH." 

And  having  thus  scrambled  together  a  little 
pocket-money,  by  hard  contrivance,  poor  Gold- 
smith turns  his  back  upon  care  and  trouble,  and 
Temple  quarters,  to  forget  for  a  time  his  desolate 
bachelorhood  in  the  family  circle  and  a  Christmas 
fireside  at  Barton. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

A  RETURN  TO  DRUDGERY — FORCED  GAYETY — 
RETREAT  TO  THE  COUNTRY — THE  POEM  OF 
RETALIATION — PORTRAIT  OF  GARRICK— OF 
GOLDSMITH— OF  REYNOLDS — ILLNESS  OF  THE 
POET — HIS  DEATH — GRIEF  OF  HIS  FRIENDS — A 
LAST  WORD  RESPECTING  THE  JESSAMY  BRIDE. 

THE  Barton  festivities  are  over  ;  Christmas, 
with  all  its  home-felt  revelry  of  the  heart,  has 
passed  like  a  dream  ;  the  Jessamy  Bride  has 
beamed  her  last  smile  upon  the  poor  poet,  and  the 
early  part  of  1774  finds  him  in  his  now  dreary 
bachelor  abode  in  the  Temple,  toiling  fitfully  and 
hopelessly  at  a  multiplicity  of  tasks.  His  "  Ani- 
mated Nature,"  so  long  delayed,  so  often  inter- 
rupted, is  at  length  announced  for  publication, 


though  it  has  yet  to  receive  a  few  finishing 
touches.  He  is  preparing  a  third  "  History  of 
England,"  to  be  compressed  and  condensed  in 
one  volume,  for  the  use  ot  schools.  He  is  revis- 
ing his  "  Inquiry  into  Polite  Learning,  for  which 
he  receives  the  pittance  of  five  guineas,  much 
needed  in  his  present  scantiness  of  purse  ;  he  is 
arranging  his  "  Survey  of  Experimental  Philoso- 
phy," and  he  is  translating  the  "  Comic  Romance 
ot  Scarron."  Such  is  a  part  at  the  various  labors 
of  a  drudging,  depressing  kind,  by  which  his  head 
is  made  wrong  and  his  heart  faint.  "  If  there  is 
a  mental  drudgery,"  says  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
"  which  lowers  the  spirits  and  lacerates  the 
nerves,  like  the  toil  of  a  slave,  it  is  that  which  is 
exacted  by  literary  composition,  when  the  heart 
is  not  in  unison  with  the  work  upon  which  the  head 
is  employed.  Add  to  the  unhappy  author's  task 
sickness,  sorrow,  or  the  pressure  of  uniavorable 
circumstances,  and  the  labor  of  the  bondsman 
becomes  light  in  comparison."  Goldsmith  again 
makes  an  effort  to  rally  his  spirits  by  going  into 
gay  society.  "  Our  club,"  writes  Beauclerc  to 
Charlemont,  on  the  I2th  of  February,  "  has  dwin- 
dled away  to  nothing.  Sir  Joshua  a'nd  Goldsmith 
have  got  into  such  a  round  of  pleasures  that  they 
have  no  time."  This  shows  how  little  Beauclerc 
was  the  companion  of  the  poet's  mind,  or  could 
judge  of  him  below  the  surface.  Reynolds,  the 
kind  participator  in  joyless  dissipation,  could  have 
told  a  different  story  of  his  companion's  heart-sick 
gayety. 

In  this  forced  mood  Goldsmith  gave  entertain- 
ments in  his  chambers  in-the  Temple  ;  the  last  of 
which  was  a  dinner  to  Johnson,  Reynolds,  and 
others  of  his  intimates,  who  partook  with  sorrow 
and  reluctance  of  his  imprudent  hospitality.  The 
first  course  vexed  them  by  its  needless  profusion. 
When  a  second,  equally  extravagant,  was  served 
up,  Johnson  and  Reynolds  declined  to  partake  of 
it  ;  the  rest  of  the  company,  understanding  their 
motives,  followed  their  example,  and  the  dishes 
went  from  the  table  untasted.  Goldsmith  felt 
sensibly  this  silent  and  well-intended  rebuke. 

The  gayeties  of  society,  however,  cannot  medi- 
cine for  any  length  of  time  a  mind  diseased. 
Wearied  by  the  distractions  and  harassed  by  the 
expenses  or  a  town  life,  which  he  had  not  the  dis- 
cretion to  regulate,  Goldsmith  took  the  resolution, 
too  tardily  adopted,  of  retiring  to  the  serene 
quiet  and  cheap  and  healthful  pleasures  of  the 
country,  and  of  passing  only  two  months  of  the 
year  in  London.  He  accordingly  made  arrange- 
ments to  sell  his  right  in  the  Temple  chambers, 
and  in  the  month  of  March  retired  to  his  country 
quarters  at  Hyde,  there  to  devote  himself  to  toil. 
At  this  dispirited  juncture  when  inspiration  seem- 
ed to  be  at  an  end,  and  the  poetic  fire  extinguish- 
ed, a  spark  fell  on  his  combustible  imagination 
and  set  it  in  a  blaze. 

He  belonged  to  a  temporary  association  of  men 
of  talent,  some  of  them  members  of  the  Literary 
Club,  who  dined  together  occasionally  at  the 
St.  James'  Coffee-house.  At  these  dinners,  as 
usual,  he  was  one  of  the  last  to  arrive.  On  one 
occasion,  when  he  was  more  dilatory  than  usual, 
a  whim  seized  the  company  to  write  epitaphs  on 
him,  as  "  The  late  Dr.  Goldsmith,"  and  several 
were  thrown  off  in  a  playful  vein,  hitting  off  his 
peculiarities.  The  only  one  extant  was  written 
by  Garrick,  and  has  been  preserved,  very  prob- 
ably, by  its  pungency  : 

"  Here  lies  poet  Goldsmith,  for  shortness  called  Noll, 
Who  wrote  like  an  angel,  but  talked  like  poor  poll." 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


263 


Goldsmith  did  not  relish  the  sarcasm,  especially 
as  coming  from  such  a  quarter.  He  was  not  very 
ready  at  repartee  ;  but  he  took  his  time,  and  in 
the  interval  of  his  various  tasks,  concocted  a  se- 
ries of  epigrammatic  sketches,  under  the  title  of 
Retaliation,  in  which  the  characters  of  his  dis- 
tinguished intimates  were  admirably  hit  off,  with 
a  mixture  of  generous  praise  and  good-humored 
raillery.  In  fact  the  poem  for  its  graphic  truth  ; 
its  nice  discrimination  ;  its  terse  good  sense,  and 
its  shrewd  knowledge  of  the  world,  must  have 
electrified  the  club  almost  as  much  as  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  The  Traveller,  and  let  them  still 
deeper  into  the  character  and  talents  of  the  man 
they  had  been  accustomed  to  consider  as  their 
butt.  Retaliation,  in  a  word,  closed  his  accounts 
with  the  club,  and  balanced  all  his  previous  defi- 
ciencies. 

The  portrait  of  David  Garrick  is  one  of  the 
most  elaborate  in  the  poem.  When  the  poet 
came  to  touch  it  off,  he  had  some  lurking  piques 
to  gratify,  which  the  recent  attack  had  revived. 
He  may  have  forgotten  David's  cavalier  treatment 
of  him,  in  the  early  days  of  his  comparative  ob- 
scurity ;  he  may  have  forgiven  his  refusal  of  his 
plays  ;  but  Garrick  had  been  capricious  in  his 
conduct  in  the  times  of  their  recent  intercourse  ; 
sometimes  treating  him  with  gross  familiarity,  at 
other  times  affecting  dignity  and  reserve,  and  as- 
suming airs  of  superiority  ;  frequently  he  had 
been  facetious  and  witty  in  company  at  his  ex- 
pense, and  lastly  he  had  been  guilty  of  the  coup- 
let just  quoted.  Goldsmith,  therefore,  touched 
off  the  lights  and  shadows  of  his  character  with  a 
free  hand,  and,  at  the  same  time,  gave  a  side  hit 
at  his  old  rival,  Kelly,  and  his  critical  persecutor, 
Kenrick,  in  making  them  sycophantic  satellites  of 
the  actor.  Goldsmith,  however,  was  void  of  gall, 
even  in  his  revenge,  and  his  very  satire  was  more 
humorous  than  caustic  : 


"  Here  lies  David  Garrick,  describe  him  who  can, 
An  abridgment  of  all  that  was  pleasant  in  man  ; 
As  an  actor,  confess'd  without  rival  to  shine  ; 
As  a  wit,  if  not  first,  in  the  very  first  line  : 
Yet,  with  talents  like  these,  and  an  excellent  heart, 
The  man  had  his  failings,  a  dupe  to  his  art. 
Like  an  ill-judging  beauty,  his  colors  he  spread, 
And  beplaster'd  with  rouge  his  own  natural  red. 
On  the  stage  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting  ; 
'Twas  only  that  when  he  was  off  he  was  acting. 
With  no  reason  on  earth  to  go  out  of  his  way, 
He  turn'd  and  he  varied  full  ten  times  a  day  : 
Though  secure  of  our  hearts,  yet  confoundedly  sick 
If  they  were  not  his  own  by  finessing  and  trick  : 
He  cast  off  his  friends  as  a  huntsman  his  pack, 
For  he  knew,   when  he  pleased,   he  could  whistle 

them  back. 

Of  praiss  a  mere  glutton,  he  swallow'd  what  came, 
And  the  puff  of  a  dunce  he  mistook  it  for  fame  ; 
Till  his  relish,  grown  callous  almost  to  disease. 
Who  pepper'd  the  highest  was  surest  to  please. 
But  let  us  be  candid,  and  speak  out  our  mind, 
If  dunces  applauded,  he  paid  them  in  kind. 
Ye  Kenricks,  ye  Kellys,  and  Woodfalls  so  grave. 
What  a  commerce  was  yours,  while  you  got  and  you 

gave  ! 
How  did  Grub  Street  reecho  the  shouts  that  you 

raised, 

While  he  was  be-Rosciused  and  you  were  be-praised  ! 
But  peace  to  his  spirit,  wherever  it  flies, 
To  act  as  an  angel  and  mix  with  the  skies  : 
Those  poets  who  owe  their  best  fame  to  his  skill, 
Shall  still  be  his  flatterers,  go  where  he  will  ; 
Old  Shakespeare  receive  him  with  praise  and  with 

love, 
And  Beaumonts  and  Bens  be  his  Kellys  above." 


This  portion  of  Retaliation  soon  brought  a  re- 
tort from  Garrick,  which  we  insert,  as  giving 
something  of  a  likeness  of  Goldsmith,  though  in 
broad  caricature  : 

"  Here,    Hermes,    says    Jove,   who    with  nectar   was 

mellow, 

Go  fetch  me  some  clay — I  will  make  an  odd  fellow  : 
Right  and  wrong  shall  be  jumbled,  much  gold  and 

some  dross, 
Without  cause  be  he  pleased,  without  cause  be  he 

cross  ; 

Be  sure,  as  I  work,  to  throw  in  contradictions, 
A  great  love  of  truth,  yet  a  mind  turn'd  to  fictions  ; 
Now  mix  these  ingredients,   which,   warm'd  in  the 

baking, 

Turn'd  to  learning  and  gaming,  relig'on,  and  raking. 
With  the  love  of  a  wench,  let  his  writings  be  chaste  ; 
Tip  his  tongue  with  strange  matters,  his  lips  with  fine 

taste  ; 

That  the  rake  and  the  poet  o'er  all  may  prevail, 
Set  fire  to  the  head  and  set  fire  to  the  tail  ; 
For  the  joy  of  each  sex  on  the  world  I'll  bestow  it, 
This  scholar*  rake,   Christian,  dupe,  gamester,  and 

poet. 

Tnough  a  mixture  so  odd,  he  shall  merit  great  fame, 
And  among  brother  mortals  be  Goldsmith  his  name  ; 
When  on  earth  this  strange  meteor  no  more  shall 

appear, 
You,   Jfermes,   shall  fetch  him,    to  make    us   sport 

here." 

The  charge  of  raking,  so  repeatedly  advanced 
in  the  foregoing  lines,  must  be  considered  a 
sportive  one,  founded  perhaps,  on  an  incident  or 
two  within  Garrick's  knowledge,  but  not  borne 
out  by  the  course  of  Goldsmith's  life.  He  seems 
to  have  had  a  tender  sentiment  for  the  sex,  but 
perfectly  free  from  libertinism.  Neither  was  he 
an  habitual  gamester.  The  strictest  scrutiny 
has  detected  no  settled  vice  of  the  kind.  He  was 
fond  of  a  game  of  cards,  but  an  unskilful  and 
careless  player.  Cards  in  those  days  were  uni- 
versally introduced  into  society.  High  play  was, 
in  fact,  a  fashionable  amusement,  as  at  one  time 
was  deep  drinking  ;  and  a  man  might  occasion- 
ally lose  large  sums,  and  be  beguiled  into  deep 
potations,  without  incurring  the  character  of  a 
gamester  or  a  drunkard.  Poor  Goldsmith,  on 
his  advent  into  high  society,  assumed  fine  notions 
with  fine  clothes  ;  he  was  thrown  occasionally 
among  high  players,  men  of  fortune  who  could 
sport  their  cool  hundreds  as  carelessly  as  his 
early  comrades  at  Ballymahon  could  their  half- 
crowns.  Being  at  all  times  magnificent  in  money 
matters,  he  may  have  played  with  them  in  their 
own  way,  without  considering  that  what  was 
sport  to  them  to  him  was  ruin.  Indeed  part  of 
his  financial  embarrassments  may  have  arisen 
from  losses  of  the  kind,  incurred  inadvertently, 
not  in  the  indulgence  of  a  habit.  "  I  do  not  be- 
lieve Goldsmith  to  have  deserved  the  name  of 
gamester,"  said  one  of  his  contemporaries  ;  "  he 
liked  cards  very  well,  as  other  people  do,  and 
lost  and  won  occasionally  ;  but  as  far  as  I  saw  or 
heard,  and  I  had  many  opportunities  of  hearing, 
never  any  considerable  sum.  If  he  gamed  with 
any  one,  it  was  probably  with  Beauclerc,  but  I 
do  not  know  that  such  was  the  case." 

Retaliation,  as  we  have  already  observed,  was 
thrown  off  in  parts,  at  intervals,  and  was  never 
completed.  Some  characters,  originally  intended 
to  be  introduced,  remained  unattempted  ;  others 
were  but  partially  sketched — such  was  the  one  of 
Reynolds,  the  friend  of  his  heart,  and  which  he 
commenced  with  a  felicity  which  makes  us  regret 
that  it  should  remain  unfinished. 


264 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


"  Here  Reynolds  is  laid,  and  to  tell  you  my  mind, 
He  has  not  left  a  wiser  or  better  behind. 
His  pencil  was  striking,  resistless,  and  grand  ; 
His  manners  were  gentle,  complying,  and  bland  ; 
Still  born  to  improve  us  in  every  part, 
His  pencil  our  faces,  his  manners  our  heart. 
To  coxcombs  averse,  yet  most  civilly  steering, 
When  they  judged  without  skill  he  was  still  hard  of 

hearing  : 
When  they  talked  of  their  Raphaels,  Correggios,  and 

stuff, 

He  shifted  his  trumpet  and  only  took  snuft. 
By  flattery  unspoiled  " 

The  friendly  portrait  stood  unfinished  on  the 
easel  ;  the  hand  of  the  artist  had  failed  !  An  ac- 
cess of  a  local  complaint,  under  which  he  had 
suffered  for  some  time  past,  added  to  a  general 
prostration  of  health,  brought  Goldsmith  back  to 
town  before  he  had  well  settled  himself  in  the 
country.  The  local  complaint  subsided,  but  was 
followed  by  a  low  nervous  fever.  He  was  not 
aware  of  his  critical  situation,  and  jntended  to  be 
at  the  club  on  the  25th  of  March,  on  which  occa- 
sion Charles  Fox,  Sir  Charles  Bunbury  (one  of  the 
Horneck  connection),  and  two  other  new  mem- 
bers were  to  be  present.  In  the  afternoon,  how- 
ever, he  felt  so  unwell  as  to  take  to  his  bed,  and 
his  symptoms  soon  acquired  sufficient  force  to 
keep  him  there.  His  malady  fluctuated  for  sev- 
eral days,  and  hopes  were  entertained  of  his 
recovery,  but  they  proved  fallacious.  He  had 
skilful  medical  aid  and  faithful  nursing,  but  he 
would  not  follow  the  advice  of  his  physicians,  and 

Eersisted  in  the  use  of  James"  powders,  which 
e  had  once  found  beneficial,  but  which  were 
now  injurious  to  him.  His  appetite  was  gone, 
his  strength  failed  him,  but  his  mind  remained 
clear,  and  was  perhaps  too  active  for  his  frame. 
Anxieties  and  disappointments  which  had  pre- 
viously sapped  his  constitution,  doubtless  aggra- 
vated his  present  complaint  and  rendered  him 
sleepless.  In  reply  loan  inquiry  of  his  physician, 
he  acknowledged  that  his  mind  was  ill  at  ease. 
This  was  his  last  reply  ;  he  was  too  weak  to  talk, 
and  in  general  took  no  notice  of  what  was  said  to 
him.  He  sank  at  last  into  a  deep  sleep,  and  it 
was  hoped  a  favorable  crisis  had  arrived.  He 
awoke,  however,  in  strong  convulsions,  which 
continued  without  intermission  until  he  expired, 
on  the  fourth  of  April,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  being  in  the  forty-sixth  year  of  his  age. 

His  death  was  a  shock  to  the  literary  world, 
and  a  deep  affliction  to  a  wide  circle  of  intimates 
and  friends  ;  for  with  all  his  foibles  and  peculiari- 
ties, he  was  fully  as  much  beloved  as  he  was  ad- 
mired. Burke,  on  hearing  the  news,  burst  into 
tears.  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  threw  by  his  pencil 
for  the  day,  and  grieved  more  than  he  had  done 
in  times  of  great  family  distress.  "  1  was  abroad 
at  the  time  of  his  death,"  writes  Dr.  M'Donnell, 
the  youth  whom  when  in  distress  he  had  em- 
ployed as  an  amanuensis,  "  and  1  wept  bitterly 
when  the  intelligence  first  reached  me.  A  blank 
came  over  my  heart  as  if  I  had  lost  one  of  my 
nearest  relatives,  and  was  followed  for  some  days 
by  a  feeling  of  despondency."  Johnson  felt  the 
blow  deeply  and  gloomily.  In  writing  some  time 
afterward  to  Boswell,  he  observed,  "  Of  poor  Dr. 
Goldsmith  there  is  little  to  be  told  more  than  the 
papers  have  made  public.  He  died  of  a  fever, 
made,  I  am  afraid,  more  violent  by  uneasiness  of 
mind.  His  debts  began  to  be  heavy,  and  all  his 
resources  were  exhausted.  Sir  Joshua  is  of  opin- 
ion that  he  owed  no  less  than  two  thousand 
pounds.  Was  ever  poet  so  trusted  before  ?" 


Among  his  debts  were  seventy-nine  pounds  due 
to  his  tailor,  Mr.  William  Filby,  from  whom  he 
had  received  a  new  suit  but  a  tew  days  before  his 
death.  "  My  father,"  said  the  younger  Filby, 
"  though  a  loser  to  that  amount,  attributed  no 
blame  to  Goldsmith  ;  he  had  been  a  good  cus- 
tomer, and  had  he  lived  would  have  paid  every 
farthing."  Others  of  his  tradespeople  evinced 
the  same  confidence  in  his  integrity,  notwithstand- 
ing his  heedlessness.  Two  sister  milliners  in 
Temple  Lane,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  deal 
with  him,  were  concerned,  when  told,  some  time 
before  his  death,  of  his  pecuniar)'  embarrass- 
ments. "  Oh,  sir,"  said  they  to  Mr.  Craclock, 
"  sooner  persuade  him  to  let  us  work  for  him 
gratis  than  apply  to  any  other  ;  we  are  sure  he 
will  pay  us  when  he  can." 

On  the  stairs  of  his  apartment  there  was  the 
lamentation  of  the  old  and  infirm,  and  the  sob- 
bing of  women  ;  poor  objects  of  his  charity  to 
whom  he  had  never  turned  a  deaf  ear,  even  when 
struggling  himself  with  poverty. 

But  there  was  one  mourner,  whose  enthusiasm 
for  his  memory,  could  it  have  been  foreseen, 
might  have  soothed  the  bitterness  of  death.  After 
the  coffin  had  been  screwed  clown,  a  lock  of  his 
hair  was  requested  for  a  lady,  a  particular  friend, 
who  wished  to  preserve  it  as  a  remembrance.  It 
was  the  beautiful  Mary  Horneck — the  Jessamy 
Bride.  The  coffin  was  opened  again,  and  a  lock 
of  hair  cut  off  ;  which  she  treasured  to  her  dying 
day.  Poor  Goldsmith  !  could  he  have  foreseen 
that  such  a  memorial  of  him  was  to  be  thus  cher- 
ished ! 

One  word  more  concerning  this  lady,  to  whom 
we  have  so  often  ventured  to  advert.  She  sur- 
vived almost  to  the  present  day.  Hazlitt  met 
her  at  Northcote's  painting-room,  about  twenty 
years  since,  as  Mrs.  Gwyn,  the  widow  of  a  Gen- 
eral Gwyn  of  the  army.  She  was  at  that  time 
upward  of  seventy  years  of  age.  Still,  he  said, 
she  was  beautiful,  beautiful  even  in  years.  After 
she  was  gone,  Hazlitt  remarked  how  handsome 
she  still  was.  "  1  do  not  know,"  said  Northcote, 
"  why  she  is  so  kind  as  to  come  to  see  me,  except 
that  I  am  the  last  link  in  the  chain  that  connects 
her  with  all  those  she  most  esteemed  when  young 
— Johnson,  Reynolds,  Goldsmith — and  remind 
her  of  the  most  delightful  period  of  her  life." 
"  Not  only  so,"  observed  Hazlitt,  "  but  you  re- 
member what  she  was  at  twenty  ;  and  you  thus 
bring  back  to  her  the  triumphs  of  her  youth — that 
pride  of  beaut}',  which  must  be  the  more  fondly 
cherished  as  it  has  no  external  vouchers,  and  lives 
chiefly  in  the  bosom  of  its  once  lovely  possessor. 
In  her,  however,  the  Graces  had  triumphed  over 
time  ;  she  was  one  of  Ninon  de  1'Enclos'  people, 
of  the  last  of  the  immortals.  I  could  almost  fancy 
the  shade  of  Goldsmith  in  the  room,  looking 
round  with  complacency." 

The  Jessamy  Bride  survived  her  sister  upward 
of  forty  years,  and  died  in  1840,  within  a  few 
days  of  completing  her  eighty-eighth  year.  "  She 
had  gone  through  all  the  stages  of  life,"  says 
Northcote,  "and  had  lent  a  grace  to  each." 
However  gayly  she  may  have  sported  with  the 
half-concealed  admiration  of  the  poor  awkward 
poet  in  the  heyday  of  her  youth  and  beauty,  and 
however  much  it  may  have  been  made  a  subject 
of  teasing  by  her  youthful  companions,  she  evi- 
dently prided  herself  in  after  years  upon  having 
been  an  object  of  his  affectionate  regard  ;  it  cer- 
tainly rendered  her  interesting  throughout  life  in 
the  eyes  of  his  admirers,  and  has  hung  a  poetical 
wreath  above  her  grave. 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


265 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

THE  FUNERAL— THE  MONUMENT — THE  EPITAPH — 
CONCLUDING   REMARKS. 

IN  the  warm  feeling  of  the  moment,  while  the 
remains  of  the  poet  were  scarce  cold,  it  was  de- 
termined by  his  friends  to  honor  them  by  a  pub- 
lic funeral  and  a  tomb  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
His  very  pall-bearers  were  designated  :  Lord 
Shelburne,  Lord  Lowth,  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  ; 
the  Hon.  Mr.  Beauclerc,  Mr.  Burke,  and  David 
Garrick.  This  feeling  cooled  down,  however,  when 
it  was  discovered  that  he  died  in  debt,  and  had 
not  left  wherewithal  to  pay  for  such  expensive  ob- 
sequies. Five  days  after  his  death,  therefore,  at 
five  o'clock  of  Saturday  evening,  the  gth  of  April, 
he  was  privately  interred  in  the  burying-ground 
of  the  Temple  Church  ;  a  few  persons  attending 
as  mourners,  among  whom  we  do  not  find  speci- 
fied any  of  his  peculiar  and  distinguished  friends. 
The  chief  mourner  was  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds' s 
nephew,  Palmer,  afterward  Dean  of  Cashel.  One 
person,  however,  from  whom  it  was  but  little  to 
be  expected,  attended  the  funeral  and  evinced 
real  sorrow  on  the  occasion.  This  was  Hugh 
Kelly,  once  the  dramatic  rival  of  the  deceased, 
and  often,  it  is  said,  his  anonymous  assailant  in 
the  newspapers.  If  he  had  really  been  guilty  of 
this  basest  of  literary  offences,  he  was  punished 
by  the  stings  of  remorse,  for  we  are  told  that  he 
shed  bitter  tears  over  the  grave  of  the  man  he 
had  injured.  His  tardy  atonement  only  provoked 
the  lash  of  some  unknown  satirist,  as  the  follow- 
ing lines  will  show  : 

"  Hence  Kelly,  who  years,  without  honor  or  shame, 
Had  been  sticking  his  bodkin  in  Oliver's  fame, 
Who  thought,  like  the  Tartar,  by  this  to  inherit 
His  genius,  his  learning,  simplicity,  spirit  ; 
Now  sets  every  feature  to  weep  o'er  his  fate, 
And  acts  as  a  mourner  to  blubber  in  state." 

One  base  wretch  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  the 
reptile  Kenrick,  who,  after  having  repeatedly 
slandered  Goldsmith,  while  living,  had  the  au- 
dacity to  insult  his  memory  when  dead.  The 
following  distich  is  sufficient  to  show  his  malig- 
nancy, and  to  hold  him  up  to  execration  : 

"  By  his  own  art,  who  justly  died, 
A  blund'ring,  artless  suicide  : 
Share,  earthworms,  share,  since  now  he's  dead, 
His  megrim,  maggot-bitten  head." 

This  scurrilous  epitaph  produced  a  burst  of 
public  indignation  that  awed  for  a  time  even  the 
infamous  Kenrick  into  silence.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  press  teemed  with  tributes  in  verse  and 
prose  to  the  memory  of  the  deceased  ;  all  evincing 
the  mingled  feeling  of  admiration  for  the  author 
and  affection  for  the  man. 

Not  long  after  his  death  the  Literary  Club  set 
on  foot  a  subscription,  and  raised  a  fund  to  erect 
a  monument  to  his  memory  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey. It  was  executed  by  Nollekins,  and  consisted 
simply  of  a  bust  of  the  poet  in  profile,  in  high  re- 
lief, in  a  medallion,  and  was  placed  in  the  area, 
of  a  pointed  arch,  over  the  south  door  in  Poets' 
Corner,  between  the  monuments  of  Gay  and  the 
Duke  of  Argyle.  Johnson  furnished  a  Latin  epi- 
taph, which  was  read  at  the  table  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  where  several  members  of  the  club  and 
other  friends  of  the  deceased  were  present. 
Though  considered  by  them  a  masterly  com- 
position, they  thought  the  literary  character 
of  the  poet  not  defined  with  sufficient  exactness, 


and  they  preferred  that  the  epitaph 'should  be  in 
English  rather  than  Latin,  as  "  the  memory  of  so 
eminent  an  English  writer  ought  to  be  perpetua- 
ted in  the  language  to  which  his  works  were  like- 
ly to  be  so  lasting  an  ornament." 

These  objections  were  reduced  to  writing,  to 
be  respectfully  submitted  to  Johnson,  but  such 
was  the  awe  entertained  of  his  frown,  that  every 
one  shrank  from  putting  his  name  first  to  the  in- 
strument ;  whereupon  their  names  were  written 
about  it  in  a  circle,  making  what  mutinous  sailors 
call  a  Round  Robin.  Johnson  received  it  half  gra- 
ciously, half  grimly.  "  He  was  willing,  "  he  said, 
"  to  modify  the  sense  of  the  epitaph  in  any  man- 
ner the  gentlemen  pleased  ;  but  he  never  would 
consent  to  disgrace  the  walls  of  Westminster 
Abbey  with  an  English  inscription."  Seeing 
the  names  of  Dr.  Wharton  and  Edmund  Burke 
among  the  signers,  "  he  wondered,"  he  said, 
"  that  Joe  Wharton,  a  scholar  by  profession, 
should  be  such  a  fool  ;  and  should  have  thought 
that  Mund  Burke  would  have  had  more  sense." 
The  following  is  the  epitaph  as  it  stands  inscribed 
on  a  white  marble  tablet  beneath  the  bust : 

"  OLIVARII     GOLDSMITH, 

Poetae,  Physici,  Historic!, 
Qui  nullum  fer£  scribendi  genus 

Non  tctigit, 

Nullum  quod  tetigit  non  ornavit 
Sive  risus  essent  movendi, 

Sive  lacrymae, 

Affectuum  potens  ac  lenis  dominator  : 
Ingenio  sublimis,  vividus,  versatilis, 
Oratione  grandis,  nitidus,  venustus  : 
Hoc  monumento  memoriam  coluit 
Sodalium  amor, 
Amicoru'm  fides, 
Lectorum  veneratio. 

Natus  in  Hibernia  Forniae  Longfordiensis, 
In  loco  cui  nomen  Pallas, 
Nov.  xxix.  MDCCXXXI.  ; 
Eblanae  literis  institutus  ; 

Obiit  Londini, 
April  iv.  MDCCLXXIV."  * 

We  shall  not  pretend  to  follow  these  anecdotes 
of  the  life  of  Goldsmith  with  any  critical  disserta- 
tion on  his  writings  ;  their  merits  have  long  since 
been  fully  discussed,  and  their  station  in  the  scale 
of  literary  merit  permanently  established.  They 
have  outlasted  generations  of  works  of  higher 
power  and  wider  scope,  and  will  continue  to  out- 
last succeeding  generations,  for  they  have  that 
magic  charm  of  style  by  which  works  are  em- 
balmed to  perpetuity.  Neither  shall  we  attempt 
a  regular  analysis  of  the  character  of  the  poet, 
but  will  indulge  in  a  few  desultory  remarks  in 


*  The    following    translation 
edition  of  Boswell's  Johnson  : 


is     from     Croker's 


OF  OLIVER  GOLDSMITH— 

A  Poet,  Naturalist,  and  Historian, 

Who  left  scarcely  any  style  of  writing  untouched, 

And  touched  nothing  that  he  did  not  adorn  ; 

Of  all  the  passions, 
Whether  smiles   were  to  be  moved  or  tears, 

A  powerful  yet  gentle  master  ; 

In  genius,  sublime,  vivid,  versatile, 

In  style,  elevated,  clear,   elegant — 

J  he  love  of  companions. 

The  fidelity  of  friends. 

And  the  veneration  of  readers, 

Have  by  this  monument  honored  the  memory. 

He  was  born  in  Ireland, 

At  a  place  called  Pallas, 

[  In  the  parish]  of  Forney,  [and  county]  of  Longford, 

On  the  apth  Nov..  1731, 

Education  at  [the  University  of]  Dublin, 

And  died  in  London. 

4th  April,  1774. 


2G6 


OLIVER   GOLDSMITH. 


addition  to  those  scattered  throughout  the  preced- 
ing chapters. 

Never  was  the  trite,  because  sage  apothegm, 
that  "  The  child  is  father  to  the  man,"  more  fully 
verified  than  in  the  case  of  Goldsmith.  He  is 
shy,  awkward,  and  blundering  in  childhood,  yet 
full  of  sensibility  ;  he  is  a  butt  for  the  jeers  and 
jokes  of  his  companions,  but  apt  to  surprise  and 
confound  them  by  sudden  and  witty  repartees  ; 
he  is  dull  and  stupid  at  his  tasks,  yet  an  eager 
and  intelligent  devourer  of  the  travelling  tales 
and  campaigning  stories  of  his  half  military  ped- 
agogue ;  he  may  be  a  dunce,  but  he  is  already  a 
rhymer  ;  and  his  early  scintillations  of  poetry 
awaken  the  expectations  of  his  friends.  He  seems 
from  infancy  to  have  been  compounded  of  two 
natures,  one  bright,  the  other  blundering  ;  or  to 
have  had  fairy  gifts  laid  in  his  cradle  by  the 
"good  people"  who  haunted  his  birthplace,  the 
old  goblin  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the  Inny. 

He  carries  with  him  the  wayward  elfin  spirit,  if 
we  may  so  term  it,  throughout  his  career.  His 
fairy  gifts  are  of  no  avail  at  school,  academy,  or 
college  ;  they  unfit  him  for  dose  study  and  prac- 
tical science,  and  render  him  heedless  of  every- 
thing that  does  not  address  itself  to  his  poetical 
imagination  and  genial  and  festive  feelings  ;  they 
dispose  him  to  breakaway  from  restraint,  to  stroll 
about  hedges,  green  lanes,  and  haunted  streams, 
to  revel  with  jovial  companions,  or  to  rove  the 
country  like  a  gipsy  in  quest  of  odd  adventures. 

As  if  confiding  in  these  delusive  gifts,  he  takes 
no  heed  of  the  present  nor  care  for  the  future, 
lays  no  regular  and  solid  foundation  of  knowl- 
edge, follows  out  no  plan,  adopts  and  discards 
those  recommended  by  his  friends,  at  one  time 
prepares  for  the  ministry,  next  turns  to  the  law, 
and  then  fixes  upon  medicine.  He  repairs  to  Ed- 
inburgh, the  great  emporium  of  medical  science, 
but  the  fairy  gifts  accompany  him  ;  he  idles  and 
frolics  away  his  time  there,  imbibing  only  such 
knowledge  as  is  agreeable  to  him  ;  makes  an  ex- 
cursion to  the  poetical  regions  of  the  Highlands  ; 
and  having  walked  the  hospitals  for  the  customary 
time,  sets  off  to  ramble  over  the  Continent,  in 
quest  of  novelty  rather  than  knowledge.  His 
whole  tour  is  a  poetical  one.  He  fancies  he  is 
playing  the  philosopher  while  he  is  really  playing 
the  poet  ;  and  though  professedly  he  attends  lec- 
tures and  visits  foreign  universities,  so  deficient  is 
he  on  his  return,  in  the  studies  for  which  he  set 
but,  that  he  fails  in  an  examination  as  a  surgeon's 
mate  ;  and  while  figuring  as  a  doctor  of  medi- 
cine, is  outvied  on  a  point  of  practice  by  his 
apothecary.  Baffled  in  every  regular  pursuit, 
alter  trying  in  vain  some  of  the  humbler  callings 
6f  commonplace  life,  he  is  driven  almost  by 
chance  to  the  exercise  of  his  pen,  and  here  the 
fairy  gilts  come  to  his  assistance.  For  a  long 
time,  however,  he  seems  unaware  of  the  magic 
properties  of  that  pen  ;  he  uses  it  only  as  a  make- 
shift until  he  can  find  a  legitimate  means  of  sup- 
port. He  is  not  a  learned  man,  and  can  write 
but  meagrely  and  at  second-hand  on  learned  sub- 
jects ;  but  he  has  a  quick  convertible  talent  that 
seizes  lightly  on  the  points  of  knowledge  neces- 
sary to  the  illustration  of  a  theme  ;  his  writings 
for  a  time  are  desultory,  the  fruits  of  what  he  has 
seen  and  felt,  or  what  he  has  recently  and  hastily 
read  ;  but  his  gifted  pen  transmutes  everything 
into  gold,  ane  his  own  genial  nature  reflects  its 
sunshine  through  his  pages. 

Still  unaware  ol  his  powers  he  throws  off  his 
writings  anonymously,  to  go  with  the  writings  of 
less  favored  men  ;  and  it  is  a  long  time,  and  after 


a  bitter  struggle  with  poverty  and  humiliation, 
before  he  acquires  confidence  in  his  literary  talent 
as  a  means  of  support,  and  begins  to  dream  of 
reputation. 

From  this  time  his  pen  is  a  wand  of  power  in 
his  hand,  and  he  has  only  to  use  it  discreetly,  to 
make  it  competent  to  all  his  wants.  But  discre- 
tion is  not  a  part  of  Goldsmith's  nature  ;  and  it 
seems  the  property  of  these  fairy  gifts  to  be  ac- 
companied by  moods  and  temperaments  to  render 
their  effect  precarious.  The  heedlessness  of  his 
early  days  ;  his  disposition  for  social  enjoyment  ; 
his  habit  of  throwing  the  present  on  the  neck  of 
the  future,  still  continue.  His  expenses  forerun 
his  means  ;  he  incurs  debts  on  the  faith  of  what 
his  magic  pen  is  to  produce,  and  then,  under 'the 
pressure  of  his  debts,  sacrifices  its  productions  for 
prices  far  below  their  value.  It  is  a  redeeming 
circumstance  in  his  prodigality,  that  it  is  lavished 
oftener  upon  others  than  upon  himself  ;  he  gives 
without  thought  or  stint,  and  is  the  continual 
dupe  of  his  benevolence  and  his  trustfulness  in 
human  nature.  We  may  say  of  him  as  he  says 
of  one  of  his  heroes,  "  He  could  not  stifle  the  nat- 
ural impulse  which  he  had  to  do  good,  but  fre- 
quently borrowed  money  to  relieve  the  distressed  ; 
and  when  he  knew  not  conveniently  where  to 
borrow,  he  has  been  observed  to  sheet  tears  as  he 
passed  through  the  wretched  suppliants  who  at- 
tended his  gate."  .  . 

"  His  simplicity  in  trusting  persons  whom  he 
had  no  previous  reasons  to  place  confidence  in, 
seems  to  be  one  of  those  lights  of  his  character 
which,  while  they  impeach  his  understanding,  do 
honor  to  his  benevolence.  The  low  and  the  timid 
are  ever  suspicious  ;  but  a  heart  impressed  with 
honorable  sentiments  expects  from  others  sym- 
pathetic sincerity."* 

His  heedlessness  in  pecuniary  matters,  which 
had  rendered  his  life  a  struggle  with  poverty 
even  in  the  days  of  his  obscurity,  rendered  the 
struggle  still  more  intense  when  his  fairy  gifts 
had  elevated  him  into  the  society  of  the  wealthy 
and  luxurious,  and  imposed  on  his  simple  and 
generous  spirit  fancied  obligations  to  a  more  am- 
ple and  bounteous  display. 

"  How  comes  it,"  says  a  recent  and  ingenious 
critic,  "  that  in  all  the  miry  paths  of  life  which  he 
had  trod,  no  speck  ever  sullied  the  robe  of  his 
modest  and  graceful  muse.  How  amid  all  that 
love  of  inferior  company,  which  never  to  the  last 
forsook  him,  did  he  keep  his  genius  so  free  from 
every  touch  of  vulgarity  ?" 

We  answer  that  it  was  owing  to  the  innate 
purity  and  goodness  of  his  nature  ;  there  was 
nothing  in  it  that  assimilated  to  vice  and  vulgar- 
ity. Though  his  circumstances  often  compelled 
him  to  associate  with  the  poor,  they  never  could 
betray  him  into  companionship  with  the  de- 
praved. His  relish  for  humor  and  for  the  study 
of  character,  as  we  have  before  observed,  brought 
him  often  into  convivial  company  of  a  vulgar 
kind  ;  but  he  discriminated  between  their  vulgar- 
ity and  their  amusing  qualities,  or  rather  wrought 
from  the  whole  those  familiar  features  of  life  which 
form  the  staple  of  his  most  popular  writings. 

Much,  too,  of  this  intact  purity  of  heart  may  be 
ascribed  to  the  lessonb  of  his  infancy  under  the 
paternal  roof  ;  to  the  gentle,  benevolent,  ele- 
vated, unworldly  maxims  of  his  father,  who 
"  passing  rich  with  forty  pounds  a  year,"  infused 
a  spirit  into  his  child  which  riches  could  not  de- 
prave nor  poverty  degrade.  Much  of  his  boy- 

*  Goldsmith's  Life  of  Nashe. 


OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 


267 


hood,  too,  had  been  passed  in  the  household  of 
his  uncle,  the  amiable  and  generous  Contarine  ; 
where  he  talked  of  literature  with  the  good  pas- 
tor, and  practised  music  with  his  daughter,  and 
delighted  them  both  by  his  juvenile  attempts  at 
poetry.  These  earJy  associations  breathed  a  grace 
and  refinement  into  his  mind  and  tuned  it  up, 
after  the  rough  sports  on  the  green,  or  the  frolics 
at  the  tavern.  These  led  him  to  turn  from  the 
roaring  glees  of  the  club,  to  listen  to  the  harp  of 
his  cousin  Jane  ;  and  from  the  rustic  triumph  of 
"  throwing  sledge,"  to  a  stroll  with  his  flute  along 
the  pastoral  banks  of  the  Inny. 

The  gentle  spirit  of  his  father  walked  with  him 
through  life,  a  pure  and  virtuous  monitor  ;  and  in 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  his  career  we  find  him  ever 
more  chastened  in  mind  by  the  sweet  and  holy 
recollections  of  the  home  of  his  infancy. 

It  has  been  questioned  whether  he  really  had  any 
religious  feeling.  Those  who  raise  the  question 
have  never  considered  well  his  writings  ;  his  Vic- 
ar of  Wakefield,  and  his  pictures  of  the  Village 
Pastor,  present  religion  under  its  most  endearing 
forms,  and  with  a  feeling  that  could  only  flow 
from  the  deep  convictions  of  the  heart.  When 
his  fair  travelling  companions  at  Paris  urged 
him  to  read  the  Church  Service  on  a  Sunday,  he 
replied  that  "  he  was  not  worthy  to  do  it."  He 
had  seen  in  early  life  the  sacred  offices  performed 
by  his  father  and  his  brother,  with  a  solemnity 
which  had  sanctified  them  in  his  memory  ;  how 
could  he  presume  to  undertake  such  functions  ? 
His  religion  has  been  called  in  question  by  John- 
son and  by  Boswell  ;  he  certainly  had  not  the 
gloomy  hypochondriacal  piety  of  the  one,  nor  the 
babbling  mouth-piety  of  the  other  ;  but  the  spirit 
of  Christian  charity  breathed  forth  in  his  writings 
and  illustrated  in  his  conduct  give  us  reason  to 
believe  he  had  the  indwelling  religion  of  the  soul. 

We  have  made  sufficient  comments  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapters  on  his  conduct  in  elevated  circles 
of  literature  and  fashion.  The  fairy  gifts  which 
took  him  there,  were  not  accompanied  by  the  gifts 
and  graces  necessary  to  sustain  him  in  that  arti- 
ficial sphere.  He  can  neither  play  the  learned 
sage  with  Johnson,  nor  the  fine  gentleman  with 
Beauclerc,  though  he  has  a  mind  replete  with 
wisdom  and  natural  shrewdness,  and  a  spirit  free 
from  vulgarity.  The  blunders  of  a  fertile  but 
hurried  intellect,  and  the  awkward  display  of  the 
student  assuming  the  man  of  fashion,  fix  on  him 
a  character  for  absurdity  and  vanity  which,  like 
the  charge  of  lunacy,  it  is  hard  to  disprove,  how- 
ever weak  the  grounds  of  the  charge  and  strong 
the  facts  in  opposition  to  it. 

In  truth,  he  is  never  truly  in  his  place  in  these 
learned  and  fashoinable  circles,  which  talk  and 
live  for  display.  It  is  not  the  kind  of  society  he 
craves.  His  heart  yearns  for  domestic  life  ;  it 
craves  familiar,  confiding  intercourse,  family  fire- 
sides, the  guileless  and  happy  company  of  chil- 
dren ;  these  bring  out  the  heartiest  and  sweetest 
sympathies  of  his  nature. 

"  Had  it  been  his  fate,'  says  the  critic  we  have 
already  quoted,  "  to  meet  a  woman  who  could 


have  loved  him,  despite  his  faults,  and  respected 
him  despite  his  foibles,  we  cannot  but  think  that 
his  life  and  his  genius  would  have  been  much 
more  harmonious  ;  his  desultory  affections  would 
have  been  concentred,  his  craving  self-love  ap- 
peased, his  pursuits  more  settled,  his  character 
more  solid.  A  nature  like  Goldsmith's,  so  affec- 
tionate, so  confiding — so  susceptible  to  simple, 
innocent  enjoyments — so  dependent  on  others  for 
the  sunshine  of  existence,  does  not  flower  if  de- 
prived of  the*atmosphere  of  home." 

The  cravings  of  his  heart  in  this  respect  are 
evident,  we  think,  throughout  his  career  ;  and  if 
we  have  dwelt  with  more  significancy  than  others, 
upon  his  intercourse  with  the  beautiful  Horneck 
family,  it  is  because  we  fancied  we  could  detect, 
amid  his  playful  attentions  to  one  of  its  mem- 
bers, a  lurking  sentiment  of  tenderness,  kept 
clown  by  conscious  poverty  and  a  humiliating 
idea  of  personal  defects.  A  hopeless  feeling  of 
this  kind — the  last  a  man  would  communicate  to 
his  friends — might  account  for  much  of  that  fitful- 
ness  of  conduct,  and  that  gathering  melancholy, 
remarked,  but  not  comprehended  by  his  associ- 
ates, during  the  last  year  or  two  of  his  life  ;  and 
may  have  been  one  of  the  troubles  of  the  mind 
which  aggravated  his  last  illness,  and  only  termi- 
nated with  his  death. 

We  shall  conclude  these  desultory  remarks 
with  a  few  which  have  been  used  by  us  on  a  for- 
mer occasion.  From  the  general  tone  of  Gold- 
smith's biography,  it  is  evident  that  his  faults,  at 
the  worst,  were  but  negative,  while  his  merits 
were  great  and  decided.  He  was  no  one's  enemy 
but  his  own  ;  his  errors,  in  the  main,  inflicted 
evil  on  none  but  himself,  and  were  so  blended 
with  humorous,  and  even  affecting  circumstances, 
as  to  disarm  anger  and  conciliate  kindness. 
Where  eminent  talent  is  united  to  spotless  virtue, 
we  are  awed  and  dazzled  into  admiration,  but 
our  admiration  is  apt  to  be  cold  and  reverential  ; 
while  there  is  something  in  the  harmless  infirmi- 
ties of  a  good  and  great,  but  erring  individual, 
that  pleads  touchingly  to  our  nature  ;  and  we 
turn  more  kindly  toward  the  object  of  our  idol- 
atry, when  we  find  that,  like  ourselves,  he  is 
mortal  and  is  frail.  The  epithet  so  often  heard, 
and  in  such  kindly  tones,  of  "  Poor  Goldsmith," 
speaks  volumes.  Few  who  consider  the  real 
compound  of  admirable  and  whimsical  qualities 
which  form  his  character,  would  wish  to  prune 
away  its  eccentricities,  trim  its  grotesque  luxuri- 
ance, and  clip  it  down  to  the  decent  formalities  of 
rigid  virtue.  "  Let  not  his  frailties  be  remem- 
bered," said  Johnson  ;  "he  was  a  very  great 
man."  But,  for  our  part,  we  rather  say  "  Let 
them  be  remembered,"  since  their  tendency  is  to 
endear  ;  and  we  question  whether  he  himself 
would  not  feel  gratified  in  hearing  his  reader, 
after  dwelling  with  admiration  on  the  proofs  of 
his  greatness,  close  the  volume  with  the  kind- 
hearted  phrase,  so  fondly  and  familiarly  ejacu- 
lated, of  "  POOR  GOLDSMITH." 

THE  END. 


THE  ADVENTURES 

OF 

CAPTAIN    BONNEVILLE,   U.  S.  A., 

IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS  AND  THE  FAR  WEST. 

DIGESTED    FROM    HIS   JOURNAL,    AND    ILLUSTRATED    FROM    VARIOUS   OTHER   SOURCES. 


BY 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTICE. 


WHILE  engaged  in  writing  an  account  of  the  grand 
enterprise  of  Astoria,  it  was  my  practice  to  seek  all 
kinds  of  oral  information  connected  with  the  subject. 
Nowhere  did  I  pick  up  more  interesting  particulars 
than  at  the  table  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  who,  being 
the  patriarch  of  the  fur  trade  in  the  United  States, 
was  accustomed  to  have  at  his  board  various  persons 
of  adventurous  turn,  some  of  whom  had  been  engaged 
in  his  own  great  undertaking  ;  others,  on  their  own 
account,  had  made  expeditions  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  the  waters  of  the  Columbia. 

Among  these  personages,  one  who  peculiarly  took 
my  fancy  was  Captain  Bonneville,  of  the  United 
States  army  ;  who,  in  a  rambling  kind  of  enterprise, 
had  strangely  ingrafted  the  trapper  and  hunter  upon 
the  soldier.  As  his  expeditions  and  adventures  will 
form  the  leading  theme  of  the  following  pages,  a  few 
biographical  particulars  concerning  him  may  not  be 
unacceptable. 

Captain  Bonneville  is  of  French  parentage.  His 
father  was  a  worthy  old  emigrant,  who  came  to  this 
country  many  years  since,  and  took  up  his  abode  in 
New  York.  He  is  represented  as  a  man  not  much 
calculated  for  the  sordid  struggle  of  a  money-making 
world,  but  possessed  of  a  happy  temperament,  a  fes- 
tivity of  imagination,  and  a  simplicity  of  heart  that 
made  him  proof  against  its  rubs  and  trials.  He  was 
an  excellent  scholar  ;  well  acquainted  with  Latin  and 
Greek,  and  fond  of  the  modern  classics.  His  book 
was  his  elysium  ;  once  immersed  in  the  pages  of  Vol- 
taire, Corneille,  or  Racine,  or  of  his  favorite  English 
author,  Shakspeare,  he  forgot  the  world  and  all  its 
concerns.  Often  would  he  be  seen,  in  summer 
weather,  seated  under  one  of  the  trees  on  the  Bat- 
tery, or  the  portico  of  St.  Paul's  Church  in  Broadway, 
his  bald  head  uncovered,  his  hat  lying  by  his  side,  his 
eyes  riveted  to  the  page  of  his  book,  and  his  whole 
soul  so  engaged  as  to  lose  all  consciousness  of  the 
passing  throng  or  the  passing  hour. 

Captain  Bonneville,  it  will  be  found,  inherited 
something  of  his  father's  bonhomie,  and  his  excitable 
imagination  ;  though  the  latter  was  somewhat  disci- 
plined in  early  years  by  mathematical  studies.  He 
was  educated  at  our  national  Military  Academy  at 
West  Point,  where  he  acquitted  himself  very  credit- 


ably ;  thence,  he  entered  the  army,  in  which  he  has 
ever  since  continued. 

The  nature  of  our  military  service  took  him  to  the 
frontier,  where,  for  a  number  of  years  he  was  sta- 
tioned at  various  posts  in  the  Far  West.  Here  he  was 
brought  inja^requent  intercourse  with  Indian  traders, 
mountain  trippers,  and  other  pioneers  of  the  wilder- 
ness ;  and  became  so  excited  by  their  tales  of  wild 
scenes  and  wild  adventures,  and  their  accounts  of  vast 
and  magnificent  regions  as  yet  unexplored,  that  an 
expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  became  the 
ardent  desire  of  his  heart,  and  an  enterprise  to  explore 
untrodden  tracts,  the  leading  object  of  his  ambition. 

By  degrees  he  shaped  this  vague  day-dream  into  a 
practical  reality.  Having  made  himself  acquainted 
with  all  the  requisites  for  a  trading  enterprise  beyond 
the  mountains,  he  determined  to  undertake  it.  A 
leave  of  absence,  and  a  sanction  of  his  expedition 
was  obtained  from  the  major-general  in  chief,  on  his 
offering  to  combine  public  utility  with  his  private 
projects,  and  to  collect  statistical  information  for  the 
War  Department  concerning  the  wild  countries  and 
wild  tribes  he  might  visit  in  the  course  of  his  journey- 
ings. 

Nothing  now  was  wanting  to  the  darling  project  of 
the  captain  but  the  ways  and  means.  The  expedition 
would  require  an  outfit  of  many  thousand  dollars  ;  a 
staggering  obstacle  to  a  soldier,  whose  capital  is  sel- 
dom anything  more  than  his  sword.  Full  of  that 
buoyant  hope,  however,  which  belongs  to  the  san- 
guine temperament,  he  repaired  to  New  York,  the 
great  focus  of  American  enterprise,  where  there  are 
always  funds  ready  for  any  scheme,  however  chimeri- 
cal or  romantic.  Here  he  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet 
with  a  gentleman  of  high  respectability  and  influence, 
who  had  been  his  associate  in  boyhood,  and  who  cher- 
ished a  schoolfellow  friendship  for  him.  He  took 
a  general  interest  in  the  scheme  of  the  captain  ;  intro- 
duced him  to  commercial  men  of  his  acquaintance, 
and  in  a  little  while  an  association  was  formed,  and 
the  necessary  funds  were  raised  to  carry  the  proposed 
measure  into  effect.  One  of  the  most  efficient  per- 
sons in  this  association  was  Mr.  Alfred  Seton,  who, 
when  quite  a  youth,  had  accompanied  one  of  the  ex- 
peditions sent  out  by  Mr.  Astor  to  his  commercial 


270 


INTRODUCTORY   NOTICE. 


establishments  on  the  Columbia,  and  had  distin- 
guished himself  by  his  activity  and  courage  at  one  of 
the  interior  posts.  Mr.  Seton  was  one  of  the  Ameri- 
can youths  who  were  at  Astoria  at  the  time  of  its  sur- 
render to  the  British,  and  who  manifested  such  grief 
and  indignation  at  seeing  the  flag  of  their  country 
hauled  down.  The  hope  of  seeing  that  flag  once 
more  planted  no  the  shores  of  the  Columbia  may 
have  entered  into  his  motives  for  engaging  in  the 
present  enterprise. 

Thus  backed  and  provided,  Captain  Bonneville  un- 
dertook his  expedition  into  the  Far  West,  and  was 
soon  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Year  after  year 
elapsed  without  his  return.  The  term  of  his  leave  of 
absence  expired,  yet  no  report  was  made  of  him  at 
headquarters  at  Washington.  He  was  considered  vir- 
tually dead  or  lost,  and  his  name  was  stricken  from 
the  army  list. 

It  was  in  the  autumn  of  1835,  at. the  country  seat  of 
Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  at  Hellgate,  that  I  first  met 
with  Captain  Bonneville.  He  was  then  just  returned 
from  a  residence  of  upward  of  three  years  among  the 
mountains,  and  was  on  his  way  to  report  himself  at 
headquarters,  in  the  hopes  of  being  reinstated  in  the 
service.  From  all  that  I  could  learn,  his  wanderings 
in  the  wilderness,  though  they  had  gratified  his  curi- 
osity and  his  love  of  adventure,  had  not  much  bene- 
fited his  fortunes.  Like  Corporal  Trim  in  his  cam- 
paigns, he  had  "  satisfied  the  sentiment, "  and  that  was 
all.  In  fact,  he  was  too  much  of  the  frank,  free- 
hearted soldier,  and  had  inherited  too  much  of  his 
father's  temperament,  to  make  a  scheming  trapper, 
or  a  thrifty  bargainer.  There  was  something  in  the 
whole  appearance  of  the  captain  that  prepossessed  me 
in  his  favor.  He  was  of  the  middle  size,  well  made 
and  well  set  ;  and  a  military  frock  of  foreign  cut,  that 
had  seen  service,  gave  him  a  look  of  compactness. 
His  countenance  was  frank,  open,  and  engaging  ;  well 
browned  by  the  sun,  and  had  something  of  a  French 
expression.  He  had  a  pleasant  black  eye,  a  high  fore- 
head, and,  while  he  kept  his  hat  on,  the  look  of  a  man 
in  the  jocund  prime  of  his  days  ;  but  the  moment  his 
head  was  uncovered,  a  bald  crown  gained  him  credit 
for  a  few  more  years  than  he  was  really  entitled  to. 

Being  extremely  curious,  at  the  time,  about  every- 
thing connected  with  the  Far  West,  I  addressed  numer- 
ous questions  to  him.  They  drew  from  him  a  num- 
ber of  extremely  striking  details,  which  were  given 
with  mingled  modesty  and  frankness  ;  and  in  a  gen- 
tleness of  manner,  and  a  soft  tone  of  voice,  contrast- 
ing singularly  with  the  wild  and  often  startling  nature 
of  his  themes.  It  was  difficult  to  conceive  the  mild, 
quiet-looking  personage  before  you,  the  actual  hero 
of  the  stirring  scenes  related. 

In  the  course  of  three  or  four  months,  happening 
to  be  at  the  city  of  Washington,  I  again  came  upon 
the  captain,  who  was  attending  the  slow  adjustment 
of  his  affairs  with  the  War  Department.  I  found 
him  quartered  with  a  worthy  brother  in  arms,  a  major 
m  the  army.  Here  he  was  writing  at  a  table,  covered 
with  maps  and  papers,  in  the  centre  of  a  large  barrack 
room,  fancifully  decorated  with  Indian  arms,  and 
trophies,  and  war  dresses,  and  the  skins  of  various 
wild  animals,  and  hung  round  with  pictures  of  Indian 
games  and  ceremonies,  and  scenes  of  war  and  hunt- 


ing. In  a  word,  the  captain  was  beguiling  the  tedi- 
ousncss  of  attendance  at  court  by  an  attempt  at 
authorship  ;  and  was  rewriting  and  extending  his 
travelling  notes,  and  making  maps  of  the  regions  he 
had  explored.  As  he  sat  at  the  table,  in  this  curious 
apartment,  with  his  high  bald  head  of  somewhat  for- 
eign cast,  he  reminded  me  of  some  of  those  antique 
pictures  of  authors  that  I  have  seen  in  old  Spanish 
volumes. 

The  result  of  his  labors  was  a  mass  of  manuscript, 
which  he  subsequently  put  at  my  disposal,  to  fit  it  for 
publication  and  bring  it  before  the  world.  I  found  it 
full  of  interesting  details  of  life  among  the  mountains, 
and  of  the  singular  castes  and  races,  both  white  men 
and  red  men,  among  whom  he  had  sojourned.  It  bore, 
too,  throughout,  the  impress  of  his  character,  his  bon- 
homie, his  kindliness  of  spirit,  and  his  susceptibility 
to  the  grand  and  beautiful. 

That  manuscript  has  formed  the  staple  of  the  fol- 
lowing work.  I  have  occasionally  interwoven  facts 
and  details,  gathered  from  various  sources,  especially 
from  the  conversations  and  journals  of  some  of  the 
captain's  contemporaries,  who  were  actors  in  the 
scenes  he  describes.  I  have  also  given  it  a  tone  and 
coloring  drawn  from  my  own  observation  during  an 
excursion  into  the  Indian  country  beyond  the  bounds 
of  civilization  ;  as  I  before  observed,  however,  the 
work  is  substantially  the  narrative  of  the  worthy  cap. 
tain,  and  many  of  its  most  graphic  passages  are  but 
little  varied  from  his  own  language. 

I  shall  conclude  this  notice  by  a  dedication  which 
he  had  made  of  his  manuscript  to  his  hospitable 
brother  in  aims,  in  whose  quarters  I  found  him  occu- 
pied in  his  Lterary  labors  ;  it  is  a  dedication  which, 
I  believe,  possesses  the  qualities,  not  always  found  ir 
complimentary  documents  of  the  kind,  of  being  sir 
cere,  and  being  merited. 


TO 
JAMES    HARVEY    HOOK, 

MAJOR,  V.  8.  A., 

WHOSE  JEALOUSY   OK   ITS   HONOK, 
WHOSE    ANXIETY    FOR    ITS    INTERESTS, 

AND 

WHOSE    SENSIBILITY   FOR   ITS    WANTS, 
HAVE    ENDEARED    HIM   TO   THE    SERVICE   AS 

JTJje  J&olDt'er's  jFvitnH; 

AND    WHOSE   GENERAL   AMENITY,    CONSTANT   CHEERFULNESS, 

DISINTERESTED    HOSPITALITY,    AND   UNWEARIED 

BENEVOLENCE,    ENTITLE   HIM   TO   THE 

STILL    LOFTIER    TITLE    OF 

THE     FRIEND    OF    MAN, 

THIS   WORK  IS   INSCRIBED, 
ETC. 

New  York,   1843. 


ADVENTURES 


OF 


CAPTAIN    BONNEVILLE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

STATE  OF  THE  FUR  TRADE  OF  THE  ROCKY 
MOUNTAINS — AMERICAN  ENTERPRISES — GENE- 
RAL ASHLEY  AND  HIS  ASSOCIATES — SUBLETTE, 
A  FAMOUS  LEADER — YEARLY  RENDEZVOUS 
AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS — STRATAGEMS  AND 
DANGERS  OF  THE  TRADE— BANDS  OF  TRAP- 
PERS— INDIAN  BANDITTI — CROWS  AND  BLACK- 
FEET  —  MOUNTAINEERS  —  TRADERS  OF  THE 
FAR  WEST — CHARACTER  AND  HABITS  OF  THE 
TRAPPER. 

IN  a  recent  work  we  have  given  an  account  of 
the  grand  enterprise  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  to 
establish  an  American  emporium  for  the  fur  trade 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia,  or  Oregon  River  ; 
of  the  failure  of  that  enterprise  through  the  cap- 
ture of  Astoria  by  the  British,  in  1814  ;  and  of 
the  way  in  which  the  control  of  the  trade  of  the 
Columbia  and  its  dependencies  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  Northwest  Company.  We  have  stated, 
likewise,  the  unfortunate  supineness  of  the  Amer- 
ican Government,  in  neglecting  the  application  of 
Mr.  Astor  for  the  protection  of  the  American 
flag,  and  a  small  military  force,  to  enable  him  to 
reinstate  himself  in  the  possession  of  Astoria  at 
the  return  of  peace  ;  when  the  post  was  formally 
given  up  by  the  British  Government,  though  still 
occupied  by  the  Northwest  Company.  By  that 
supineness  the  sovereignty  in  the  country  has 
been  virtually  lost  to  the  United  States  ;  and  it 
will  cost  both  governments  much  trouble  and  dif- 
ficulty to  settle  matters  on  that  just  and  rightful 
footing,  on  which  they  would  readily  have  been 
placed,  had  the  proposition  of  Mr.  Astor  been  at- 
tended to.  We  shall  now  state  a  few  particulars 
of  subsequent  events,  so  as  to  lead  the  reader  up 
to  the  period  ol  which  we  are  about  to  treat,  and 
to  prepare  him  for  the  circumstances  of  our  nar- 
rative. 

In  consequence  of  the  apathy  and  neglect  of  the 
American  Government,  Mr.  Astor  abandoned  all 
thoughts  of  regaining  Astoria,  and  made  no  fur- 
ther attempt  to  extend  his  enterprises  beyond  the 
Rocky  Mountains  ;  and  the  Northwest  Company 
considered  themselves  the  lords  of  the  country. 
They  did  not  long  enjoy  unmolested  the  sway 
which  they  had  somewhat  surreptitiously  at- 
tained. A  fierce  competition  ensued  between 
them  and  their  old  rivals,  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany ;  .  which  was  carried  on  at  great  cost  and 
sacrifice,  and  occasionally  with  the  loss  of  life.  It 
ended  in  the  ruin  of  most  of  the  partners  of  the 
Northwest  Company  ;  and  the  merging  of  the  rel- 
ics of  that  establishment,  in  1821,  in  the  rival 
association.  From  that  time,  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  enjoyed  a  monopoly  of  the  Indian  trade 
from  the  coast  of  the  Pacific  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 


tains, and  for  a  considerable  extent  north  and 
south.  They  removed  their  emporium  from  As- 
toria to  Fort  Vancouver,  a  strong  post  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  Columbia  River,  about  sixty  miles  from 
its  mouth  ;  whence  they  furnished  their  interior 
posts,  and  sent  forth  their  brigades  of  trappers. 

The  Rocky  Mountains  formed  a  vast  barrier 
between  them  and  the  United  States,  and  their 
stern  and  awful  defiles,  their  rugged  valleys,  and 
the  great  western  plains  watered  by  their  rivers, 
remained  almost  a  terra  incognita  to  the  Ameri- 
can trapper.  The  difficulties  experienced  in 
1808,  by  Mr.  Henry,  of  the  Missouri  Company, 
the  first  American  who  trapped  upon  the  head- 
waters of  the  Columbia  ;  and  the  frightful  hard- 
ships sustained  by  Wilson  P.  Hunt,  Ramsay 
Crooks,  Robert  Stuart,  and  other  intrepid  Astor- 
ians,  in  their  ill-fated  expeditions  across  the 
mountains,  appeared  for  a  time  to  check  all  fur- 
ther enterprise  in  that  direction.  The  American 
traders  contented  themselves  with  following  up 
the  head  branches  of  the  Missouri,  the  Yellow- 
stone, and  other  rivers  and  streams  on  the  At- 
lantic side  of  the  mountains,  but  forbore  to  at- 
tempt those  great  snow-crowned  sierras. 

One  of  the  first  to  revive  these  tramontane  ex- 
peditions was  General  Ashley,  of  Missouri,  a 
man  whose  courage  and  achievements  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  enterprises  have  rendered  him 
famous  in  the  Far  West.  In  conjunction  with 
Mr.  Henry,  already  mentioned,  he  established  a 
post  on  the  banks  of  the  Yellowstone  River,  in 
1822,  and  in  the  following  year  pushed  a  resolute 
band  of  trappers  across  the  mountains  to  the 
banks  of  the  Green  River  or  Colorado  of  I  he  West, 
often  known  by  the  Indian  name  of  the  Seeds-ke- 
dee  Agie.*  This  attempt  was  followed  up  and 
sustained  by  others,  until  in  1825  a  footing  was 
secured,  and  a  complete  system  of  trapping  or- 
ganized beyond  the  mountains. 

It  is  difficult  to  do  justice  to  the  courage,  forti- 
tude, and  perseverance  of  the  pioneers  of  the  fur 
trade,  who  conducted  these  early  expeditions,  and 
first  broke  their  way  through  a  wilderness  where 
everything  was  calculated  to  deter  and  dismay 
them.  They  had  to  traverse  the  most  dreary  and 
desolate  mountains,  and  barren  and  trackless 
wastes,  uninhabited  by  man,  or  occasionally  in- 
fested by  predatory  and  cruel  savages.  They 
knew  nothing  of  the  country  beyond  the  verge  of 
their  horizon,  and  had  to  gather  information  as 
they  wandered.  They  beheld  volcanic  plains 
stretching  around  them,  and  ranges  of  mountains 
piled  up  to  the  clouds  and  glistening  with  eter- 
nal frost ;  but  knew  nothing  of  their  defiles,  nor 
how  they  were  to  be  penetrated  or  traversed. 


*  i.e.  The   Prairie   Hen   River.     Agie  in  the  Crow 
language  signifies  river. 


272 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


They  launched  themselves  in  frail  canoes  on  riv- 
ers, without  knowing  whither  their  swift  currents 
would  carry  them,  or  what  rocks,  and  shoals,  and 
rapids,  they  might  encounter  in  their  course. 
They  had  to  be  continually  on  the  alert,  too, 
against  the  mountain  tribes,  who  beset  every  de- 
file, laid  ambuscades  in  their  path,  or  attacked 
them  in  their  night  encampments  ;  so  that,  of  the 
hardy  bands  of  trappers  that  first  entered  into 
these  regions,  three  fifths  are  said  to  have  fallen 
by  the  hands  of  savage  foes. 

In  this  wild  and  warlike  school  a  number  of 
leaders  have  sprung  up,  originally  in  the  employ, 
subsequently  partners  of  Ashley  ;  among  these 
we  may  mention  Smith,  Fitzpatrick,  Bridger, 
Robert  Campbell,  and  William  Sublette  ;  whose 
adventures  and  exploits  partake  of  the  wildest 
spirit  of  romance.  The  association  commenced 
by  General  Ashley  underwent  various  modifica- 
tions. That  gentleman  having  acquired  sufficient 
fortune,  sold  out  his  interest  and  retired  ;  and 
the  leading  spirit  that  succeeded  him  was  Captain 
William  Sublette  ;  a  man  worthy  of  note,  as  his 
name  has  become  renowned  in  frontier  story.  He 
is  a  native  of  Kentucky,  and  of  game  descent  ;  his 
maternal  grandather,  Colonel  Wheatley,  a  com- 
panion of  Boone,  having  been  one  of  the  pioneers 
of  the  West,  celebrated  in  Indian  warfare,  and 
killed  in  one  of  the  contests  of  the  "  Bloody 
Ground."  We  shall  frequently  have  occasion  to 
speak  of  this  Subette,  and  always  to  the  credit  of 
his  game  qualities.  In  1830,  the  association  took 
the  name  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company, 
of  which  Captain  Sublette  and  Robert  Campbell 
were  prominent  members. 

In  the  meantime,  the  success  of  this  company 
attracted  the  attention  and  excited  the  emulation 
of  the  American  Fur  Company  and  brought  them 
once  more  into  the  field  of  their  ancient  enter- 
prise. Mr.  Astor,  the  founder  of  the  association, 
had  retired  from  busy  life,  and  the  concerns  of 
the  company  were  ably  managed  by  Mr.  Ramsay 
Crooks,  of  Snake  River  renown,  who  still  officiates 
as  its  president.  A  competition  immediately  en- 
sued between  the  two  companies,  for  the  trade 
with  the  mountain  tribes,  and  the  trapping  of  the 
head-waters  of  the  Columbia  and  the  other  great 
tributaries  of  the  Pacific.  Beside  the  regular  op- 
erations of  these  formidable  rivals,  there  have 
been  from  time  to  time  desultory  enterprises,  or 
rather  experiments,  of  minor  associations,  or  of 
adventurous  individuals,  beside  roving  bands  of 
independent  trappers,  who  either  hunt  for  them- 
selves, or  engage  for  a  single  season  in  the  ser- 
vice of  one  or  other  of  the  main  companies. 

The  consequence  is,  that  the  Rocky  Mountains 
and  the  ulterior  regions,  from  the  Russian  pos- 
session^ in  the  north  down  to  the  Spanish  settle- 
ments of  California,  have  been  traversed  and 
ransacked  in  every  direction  by  bands  of  hunters 
and  Indian  traders  ;  so  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
mountain  pass,  or  defile,  that  is  not  known  and 
threaded  in  their  restless  migrations,  nor  a  name- 
less stream  that  is  not  haunted  by  the  lonely  trap- 
per. 

The  American  fur  companies  keep  no  establish- 
ed posts  beyond  the  mountains.  Everything 
there  is  regulated  by  resident  partners  ;  that  is  to 
say,  partners  who  reside  in  the  tramontane  coun- 
try, but  who  move  about  from  place  to  place, 
either  with  Indian  tribes,  whose  traffic  they  wish  to 
monopolize,  or  with  main  bodies  of  their  own 
men,  whom  they  employ  in  trading  and  trapping. 
In  the  meantime,  they  detach  bands,  or  "  bri- 
gades" as  they  are  termed,  of  trappers  in  various 


directions,  assigning  to  each  a  portion  of  country 
as  a  hunting  or  trapping  ground.  In  the  months 
of  June  and  July,  when  there  is  an  interval  be- 
tween the  hunting  seasons,  a  general  rendezvous 
is  held,  at  some  designated  place  in  the  moun- 
tains, where  the  affairs  of  the  past  year  are  settled 
by  the  resident  partners,  and  the  plans  for  the  fol- 
lowing year  arranged. 

To  this  rendezvous  repair  the  various  brigades 
of  trappers  from  their  widely  separated  hunting 
grounds,  bringing  in  the  products  of  their  year's 
campaign.  Hither  also  repair  the  Indian  tribes 
accustomed  to  traffic  their  peltries  with  the  com- 
pany. Bands  of  free  trappers  resort  hither  also, 
to  sell  the  furs  they  have  collected  ;  or  to  engage 
their  services  for  the  next  hunting  season. 

To  this  rendezvous  the  company  sends  annu- 
ally a  convoy  of  supplies  from  its  establishment 
on  the  Atlantic  frontier,  under  the  guidance  of 
some  experienced  partner  or  officer.  On  the  ar- 
rival of  this  convoy,  the  resident  partner  at  the 
rendezvous  depends,  to  set  all  his  next  year's  ma- 
chinery in  motion. 

Now  as  the  rival  companies  keep  a  vigilant 
eye  upon  each  other,  and  are  anxious  to  discover 
each  other's  plans  and  movements,  they  generally 
contrive  to  hold  their  annual  assemblages  at  no 
great  distance  apart.  An  eager  competition  ex- 
ists also  between  their  respective  convoys  of  sup- 
plies, which  shall  first  reach  its  place  ot  rendez- 
vous. For  this  purpose  they  set  off  with  the  first 
appearance  of  grass  on  the  Atlantic  frontier,  and 
push  with  all  diligence  for  the  mountains.  The 
company  that  can  first  open  its  tempting  supplies 
of  coffee,  tobacco,  ammunition,  scarlet  cloth, 
blankets,  bright  shawls,  and  glittering  trinkets, 
has  the  greatest  chance  to  get  all  the  peltries  and 
furs  of  the  Indians  and  free  trappers,  and  to  en- 
gage their  services  ior  the  next  season.  It  is 
able,  also,  to  fit  out  and  dispatch  its  own  trappers 
the  soonest,  so  as  to  get  the  start  of  its  competi- 
tors, and  to  have  the  first  dash  into  the  hunting 
and  trapping  grounds. 

A  new  species  of  strategy  has  sprung  out  of  this 
hunting  and  trapping  competition.  The  constant 
study  of  the  rival  bands  is  to  forestall  and  outwit 
each  other  ;  to  supplant  each  other  in  the  good- 
will and  custom  of  the  Indian  tribes  ;  to  cross 
each  other's  plans  ;  to  mislead  each  other  as  to 
routes  ;  in  a  word,  next  to  his  own  advantage,  the 
study  ot  the  Indian  trader  is  the  disadvantage  of 
his  competitor. 

The  influx  of  this  wandering  trade  has  had  its 
effects  on  the  habits  of  the  mountain  tribes.  They 
have  found  the  trapping  of  the  beaver  their  most 
profitable  species  of  hunting  ;  and  the  traffic  with 
the  white  man   has   opened    to   them    sources 
luxury  of    which   they  previously  had    no   idea. 
The  introduction  of  firearms  has  rendered  ther 
more  successful    hunters,    but   at  the  same  tirm 
more  formidable  foes  ;  some  of  them,  incorrigiblj 
savage  and  warlike  in  their  nature   have  founc 
the  expeditions  of  the  fur  traders  grand   object 
of  profitable  adventure.     To  waylay  and  harass 
band  ot  trappers  with  their    pack-horses,   wher 
embarrassed  in  the  rugged  defiles  of  the  moun- 
tains, has  become  as  favorite  an  exploit  with  these 
Indians  as  the  plunder  of  a  caravan  to  the  Aral 
of  the  desert.     The  Crows  and   Blackfeet,   whc 
were  such  terrors  in  the  path  of  the  early  adven- 
turers to  Astoria,  still  continue  their  predator 
habits,  but  seem  to  have  brought  them  to  great- 
er system.     They  know  the  routes  and  resorts  of 
the  trappers  ;  where  to  waylay  them  on  their  jour- 
neys ;  where  to  find  them  in  the  hunting  seasons, 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


273 


and  where  to  hover  about  them  in  winter  quar- 
ters. The  life  of  a  trapper,  therefore,  is  a  per- 
petual state  militant,  and  he  must  sleep  with  his 
weapons  in  his  hands. 

A  new  order  of  trappers  and  traders,  also,  has 
grown  out  oi  this  system  of  things.  In  the  old 
times  of  the  great  Northwest  Company,  when  the 
trade  in  furs  was  pursued  chiefly  about  the  lakes 
and  rivers,  the  expeditions  were  carried  on  in 
batteaux  and  canoes.  The  voyageurs  or  boat- 
men were  the  rank  and  file  in  the  service  of  the 
trader,  and  even  the  hardy  "  men  of  the  north," 
those  great  rufflers  and  game  birds,  were  fain  to 
be  paddled  from  point  to  point  of  their  migrations. 

A  totally  different  class  has  now  sprung  up  ; — 
"the  Mountaineers,"  the  traders  and  trappers 
that  scale  the  vast  mountain  chains,  and  pursue 
their  hazardous  vocations  amid  their  wild  re- 
cesses. They  move  from  place  to  place  on  horse- 
back. The  equestrian  exercises,  therefore,  in 
which  they  are  engaged,  the  nature  of  the  coun- 
tries they  traverse,  vast  plains  and  mountains, 
pure  and  exhilarating  in  atmospheric  qualities, 
seem  to  make  them  physically  and  mentally  a 
more  lively  and  mercurial  race  than  the  fur  tra- 
ders and  trappers  of  former  days,  the  self-vaunt- 
ing "  men  of  the  north."  A  man  who  bestrides 
a  horse  must  be  essentially  different  from  a  man 
who  cowers  in  a  canoe.  We  find  them,  accord- 
ingly, hardy,  lithe,  vigorous,  and  active  ;  extrav- 
agant in  word,  in  thought,  and  deed  ;  heedless  of 
hardship;  daring  of  danger  ;  prodigal  of  the  pres- 
ent, and  thoughtless  of  the  future. 

A  difference  is  to  be  perceived  even  between 
these  mountain  hunters  and  those  of  the  lower  re- 
gions along  the  waters  of  the  Missouri.  The 
latter,  generally  French  Creoles,  live  comfortably 
in  cabins  and  log-huts,  well  sheltered  from  the 
inclemencies  of  the  seasons.  They  are  within  the 
reach  of  frequent  supplies  from  the  settlements  ; 
their  life  is  comparatively  free  from  danger,  and 
from  most  of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  upper  wilder- 
ness. The  consequence  is,  that  they  are  less 
hardy,  self-dependent  and  game-spirited,  than  the 
mountaineer.  If  the  latter  by  chance  comes 
among  them  on  his  way  to  and  from  the  settle- 
ments, he  is  like  a  game-cock  among  the  com- 
mon roosters  of  the  poultry-yard.  Accustomed 
to  live  in  tents,  or  to  bivouac  in  the  open  air,  he 
despises  the  comforts  and  is  impatient  of  the  con- 
frnement  of  the  log-house.  If  his  meal  is  not 
ready  in  season,  he  takes  his  rifle,  hies  to  the  for- 
est or  prairie,  shoots  his  own  game,  lights  his 
fire,  and  cooks  his  repast.  With  his  horse  and 
his  rifle,  he  is  independent  of  thq  world,  and 
spurns  at  all  its  restraints.  The  very  superin- 
tendents at  the  lower  posts  will  not  put  him  to 
mess  with  the  common  men,  the  hirelings  of  the 
establishment,  but  treat  him  as  something  su- 
perior. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  class  of  men  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  says  Captain  Bonneville,  who  lead  a 
life  of  more  continued  exertion,  peril,  and  excite- 
ment, and  who  are  more  enamored  of  their  occu- 
pations, than  the  free  trappers  of  the  West.  No 
toil,  no  danger,  no  privation  can  turn  the  trapper 
from  his  pursuit.  His  passionate  excitement  at 
times  resembles  a  mania.  In  vain  may  the  most 
vigilant  and  cruel  savages  beset  his  path  ;  in  vain 
may  rocks  and  precipices,  and  wintry  torrents 
oppose  his  progress  ;  let  but  a  single  track  of  a 
beaver  meet  his  eye,  and  he  forgets  all  dangers 
and  defies  all  difficulties.  At  times,  he  may  be 
seen  with  his  traps  on  his  shoulder,  buffeting  his 
way  across  rapid  streams,  amid  floating  blocks 


of  ice  ;  at  other  times,  he  is  to  be  found  with  his 
traps  swung  on  his  back  clambering  the  most 
rugged  mountains,  scaling  or  descending  the  most 
frightful  precipices,  searching,  by  routes  inacces- 
sible to  the  horse,  and  never  before  trodden  by 
white  man,  for  springs  and  lakes  unknown  to  his 
comrades,  and  where  he  may  meet  with  his  fa- 
vorite game.  Such  is  the  mountaineer,  the  hardy 
trapper  of  the  West  ;  and  such,  as  we  have  slight- 
ly sketched  it,  is  the  wild,  Robin  Hood  kind  of  life, 
with  all  its  strange  and  motley  populace,  now  ex- 
isting in  full  vigor  among  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

Having  thus  given  the  reader  some  idea  of  the 
actual  state  of  the  fur  trade  in  the  interior  of  our 
vast  continent,  and  made  him  acquainted  with 
the  wild  chivalry  of  the  mountains,  we  will  no 
longer  delay  the  introduction  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  band  into  this  field  of  their  enter- 
prise, but  launch  them  at  once  upon  the  perilous 
plains  of  the  Far  West. 


CHAPTER  II. 

DEPARTURE  FROM  FORT  OSAGE — MODES  OF 
TRANSPORTATION  —  PACK-HORSES — WAGONS — 
WALKER  AND  CERRE  ;  THEIR  CHARACTERS- 
BUOYANT  FEELINGS  ON  LAUNCHING  UPON  THR 
PRAIRIES — WILD  EQUIPMENTS  OF  THE  TRAP- 
PERS— THEIR  GAMBOLS  AND  ANTICS — DIFFER- 
ENCE OF  CHARACTER  BETWEEN  THE  AMERICAN 
AND  FRENCH  TRAPRERS — AGENCY  OF  THE  KAN- 
SAS— GENERAL  CLARKE— WHITE  PLUME,  THE 
KANSAS  CHIEF — NIGHT  SCENE  IN  A  TRADER'S 
CAMP — COLLOQUY  BETWEEN  WHITE  PLUME  AND 
THE  CAPTAIN — BEE-HUNTERS — THEIR  EXPEDI- 
TIONS— THEIR  FEUDS  WITH  THE  INDIANS — 
BARGAINING  TALENT  OF  WHITE  PLUME. 

IT  was  on  the  first  of  May,  1832,  that  Captain 
Bonneville  took  his  departure  from  the  frontier 
post  of  Fort  Osage,  on  the  Missouri.  He  had  en- 
listed a  party  of  one  hundred  and  ten  men,  most 
of  whom  had  been  in  the  Indian  country,  and 
some  of  whom  were  experienced  hunters  and  trap- 
pers. Fort  Osage,  and  other  places  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  western  wilderness,  abound  with  char- 
acters of  the  kind,  ready  for  any  expedition. 

The  ordinary  mode  of  transportation  in  these 
great  inland  expeditions  of  the  fur  traders  is  on 
mules  and  pack-horses  ;  but  Captain  Bonneville 
substituted  wagons.  Though  he  was  to  travel 
through  a  trackless  wilderness,  yet  the  greater 
part  of  his  route  would  lie  across  open  plains, 
destitute  of  forests,  and  where  wheel  carriages 
can  pass  in  every  direction.  The  chief  difficulty 
occurs  in  passing  the  deep  ravines  cut  through  the 
prairies  by  streams  and  winter  torrents.  Here  it 
is  often  necessary  to  dig  a  road  down  the  banks, 
and  to  make  bridges  for  the  wagons. 

In  transporting  his  baggage  in  vehicles  of  this 
kind,  Captain  Bonneville  thought  he  ivould  save 
the  great  delay  caused  every  morning  by  packing 
the  horses,  and  the  labor  of  unpacking  in  the  even- 
ing. Fewer  horses  also  would  be  required,  and 
less  risk  incurred  of  their  wandering  away,  or  be- 
ing frightened  or  carried  off  by  the  Indians.  The 
wagons,  also,  would  be  more  easily  defended, 
and  might  form  a  kind  of  fortification  in  case  of 
attack  in  the  open  prairies.  A  train  of  twenty 
wagons,  drawn  by  oxen,  or  by  four  mules  or 
horses  each,  and  laden  with  merchandise,  ammu- 
nition, and  provisions,  were  disposed  in  two; 


274 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


columns  in  the  centre  of  the  party,  which  was 
equally  divided  into  a  van  and  a  rear-guard.  As 
sub-leaders  or  lieutenants  in  his  expedition,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  had  made  choice  of  Mr.  I.  R. 
Walker  and  Mr.  M.  S.  Cerre".  The  former  was 
a  native  of  Tennessee,  about  six  feet  high,  strong 
built,  dark  complexioned,  brave  in  spirit,  though 
mild  in  manners.  He  had  resided  for  many  years 
in  Missouri,  on  the  frontier  ;  had  been  among  the 
earliest  adventurers  to  Santa  Fe,  where  he  went 
to  trap  beaver,  and  was  taken  by  the  Spaniards. 
Being  liberated,  he  engaged  with  the  Spaniards 
and  Sioux  Indians  in  a  war  against  the  Pawnees  ; 
then  returned  to  Missouri,  and  had  acted  by  turns 
as  sheriff,  trader,  trapper,  until  he  was  enlisted 
as  a  leader  by  Captain  Bonneville. 

Cerre",  his  other  leader,  had  likewise  been  in  ex- 
peditions to  Santa  Fe",  in  which  he  had  endured 
much  hardship.  He  was  of  the  middle  size,  light 
complexioned,  and  though  but  about  twenty-rive 
years  of  age,  was  considered  an  experienced  In- 
dian trader.  It  was  a  great  object  with  Captain 
Bonneville  to  get  to  the  mountains  before  the 
summer  heats  and  summer  flies  should  render 
the  travelling  across  the  prairies  distressing  ;  and 
before  the  annual  assemblages  of  people  connect- 
ed with  the  fur  trade  should  have  broken  up,  and 
dispersed  to  the  hunting  grounds. 

The  two  rival  associations  already  mentioned, 
the  American  Fur  Company  and  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Fur  Company,  had  their  several  places  of  ren- 
dezvous for  the  present  year  at  no  great  distance 
apart,  in  Pierre's  Hole,  a  deep  valley  in  the  heart 
or  the  mountains,  and  thither  Captain  Bonneville 
intended  to  shape  his  course. 

It  is  not  easy  to  do  justice  to  the  exulting  feelings 
of  the  worthy  captain,  at  rinding  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  stout  band  of  hunters,  trappers,  and 
woodmen  ;  fairly  launched  on  the  broad  prairies, 
with  his  face  to  the  boundless  west.  The  tamest 
inhabitant  of  cities,  the  veriest  spoiled  child  of 
civilization,  feels  his  heart  dilate  and  his  pulse  beat 
high  on  finding  himself  on  horseback  in  the  glori- 
ous wilderness  ;  what  then  must  be  the  excite- 
ment of  one  whose  imagination  had  been  stimu- 
lated by  a  residence  on  the  frontier,  and  to  whom 
the  wilderness  was  a  region  of  romance  ! 

His  hardy  followers  partook  of  his  excitement. 
Most  of  them  had  already  experienced  the  wild 
ireedom  of  savage  life,  and  looked  forward  to  a 
renewal  of  past  scenes  of  adventure  and  exploit. 
Their  very  appearance  and  equipment  exhibited 
a  piebald  mixture,  half  civilized  and  half  savage. 
Many  of  them  looked  more  like  Indians  than  white 
men,  in  their  garbs  and  accoutrements,  and  their 
very  horses  were  caparisoned  in  barbaric  style, 
with  fantastic  trappings.  The  outset  of  a  band  of 
adventurers  on  one  of  these  expeditions  is  always 
animated  and  joyous.  The  welkin  rang  with 
their  shouts  and  yelps,  after  the  manner  of  the 
savages  ;  and  with  boisterous  jpkes  and  light- 
hearted  laughter.  As  they  passed  the  straggling 
hamlets  and  solitary  cabins  that  fringe  the  skirts 
of  the  frontier,  they  would  startle  their  inmates 
by  Indian  yells  and  war-whoops,  or  regale  them 
with  grotesque  feats  of  horsemanship  well  suited 
to  their  half  savage  appearance.  Most  of  these 
abodes  were  inhabited  by  men  who  had  them- 
selves been  in  similar  expeditions  ;  they  welcomed 
the  travellers,  therefore,  as  brother  trappers, 
treated  them  with  a  hunter's  hospitality,  and 
cheered  them  with  an  honest  God  speed  at  part- 
ing. 

And  here  we  would  remark  a  great  difference, 
in  point  of  character  and  quality,  between  the 


two  classes  of  trappers,  the  "American"  and 
"  French,"  as  they  are  called  in  contradistinc- 
tion. The  latter  is  meant  to  designate  the  French 
Creole  of  Canada  or  Louisiana  ;  the  former  the 
trapper  of  the  old  American  stock,  from  Ken- 
tucky, Tennessee,  and  others  of  the  Western 
States.  The  French  trapper  is  represented  as  a 
lighter,  softer,  more  self-indulgent  kind  of  man. 
He  must  have  his  Indian  wife,  his  lodge,  and  his 
petty  conveniences.  He  is  gay  and  thoughtless, 
takes  little  heed  of  landmarks,  depends  upon  his 
leaders  and  companions  to  think  for  the  common 
weal,  and,  if  left  to  himself,  is  easily  perplexed 
and  lost. 

The  American  trapper  stands  by  himself,  and 
is  peerless  for  the  service  of  the  wilderness.  Drop 
him  in  the  midst  of  a  prairie,  or  in  the  heart  of 
the  mountains,  and  he  is  never  at  a  loss.  He  no- 
tices every  landmark  ;  can  retrace  his  route 
through  the  most  monotonous  plains,  or  the  most 
perplexed  labyrinths  of  the  mountains  ;  no  danger 
nor  difficulty  can  appall  him,  and  he  scorns  to 
complain  under  any  privation.  In  equipping  the 
two  kinds  of  trappers,  the  Creole  and  Canadian 
are  apt  to  prefer  the  light  fusee  ;  the  American 
always  grasps  his  rifle  ;  he  despises  what  he  calls 
the  "  shot-gun."  We  give  these  estimates  on  the 
authority  of  a  trader  of  long  experience,  and  a 
foreigner  by  birth.  "  I  consider  one  American," 
said  he,  "  equal  to  three  Canadians  in  point  of  sa- 
gacity, aptness  at  resources,  self-dependence,  and 
fearlessness  of  spirit.  In  fact,  no  one  can  cope 
with  him  as  a  stark  tramper  of  the  wilderness." 

Beside  the  two  classes  of  trappers  just  mention- 
ed, Captain  Bonneville  had  enlisted  several  Del- 
aware Indians  in  his  employ,  on  whose  hunting 
qualifications  he  placed  great  reliance. 

On  the  6th  of  May  the  travellers  passed  the  last 
border  habitation,  and  bade  a  long  farewell  to 
the  ease  and  security  of  civilization.  The  buoy- 
ant and  clamorous  spirits  with  which  they  had 
commenced  their  march  gradually  subsided  as 
they  entered  upon  its  difficulties.  They  found  the 
prairies  saturated  with  the  heavy  cold  rains  prev- 
alent in  certain  seasons  of  the  year  in  this  part  ot 
the  country,  the  wagon  wheels  sank  deep  in  the 
mire,  the  horses  were  often  to  the  fetlock,  and 
both  steed  and  rider  were  completely  jaded  by 
the  evening  of  the  I2th,  when  they  reached  the 
Kansas  River  ;  a  fine  stream  about  three  hun- 
dred yards  wide,  entering  the  Missouri  from  the 
south.  Though  fordable  in  almost  every  part  at 
the  end  of  summer  and  during  the  autumn,  yet  it 
was  necessary  to  construct  a  raft  for  the  trans- 
portation of  the  wagons  and  effects.  All  this  was 
done  in  the  course  of  the  following  day,  and  by 
evening  the  whole  party  arrived  at  the  agency  of 
the  Kansas  tribe.  This  was  under  the  superin- 
tendence ot  General  Clarke,  brother  of  the  cele- 
brated traveller  of  the  same  name,  who,  with 
Lewis,  made  the  first  expedition  down  the  waters 
of  the  Columbia.  He  was  living  like  a  patriarch, 
surrounded  by  laborers  and  interpreters,  all 
snugly  housed,  and  provided  with  excellent  farms. 
The  functionary  next  in  consequence  to  the  agent 
was  the  blacksmith,  a  most  important,  and,  indeed, 
indispensable  personage  in  a  frontier  community. 
The  Kansas  resemble  the  Osages  in  features, 
dress,  and  language  ;  they  raise  corn  and  hunt 
the  buffalo,  ranging  the  Kansas  River  and  its 
tributary  streams  ;  at  the  time  of  the  captain's 
visit  they  were  at  war  with  the  Pawnees  of  the 
Nebraska,  or  Platte  River. 

The  unusual  sight  of  a  train  of  wagons  caused 
quite  a  sensation  among  these  savages  ;  who 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


275 


thronged  about  the  caravan,  examining  every- 
thing minutely,  and  asking  a  thousand  questions  ; 
exhibiting  a  degree  of  excitability,  and  a  lively 
curiosity,  totally  opposite  to  that  apathy  with 
which  their  race  is  so  often  reproached. 

The  personage  who  most  attracted  the  cap- 
tain's attention  at  this  place  was  "  White 
Plume,"  the  Kansas  chief,  and  they  soon  became 
good  friends.  White  Plume  (we  are  pleased  with 
his  chivalrous  sobriquet)  inhabited  a  large  stone 
house,  built  for  him  by  order  of  the  American  Gov- 
ernment ;  but  the  establishment  had  not  been 
carried  out  in  corresponding  style.  It  might  be 
palace  without,  but  it  was  wigwam  within  ;  so 
that,  between  the  stateliness  of  his  mansion  and 
the  squalidnessof  his  furniture,  the  gallant  White 
Plume  presented  some  such  whimsical  incongruity 
as  we  see  in  the  gala  equipments  of  an  Indian 
chief  on  a  treaty-making  embassy  at  Washing- 
ton, who  has  been  generously  decked  out  in  cock- 
ed hat  and  military  coat,  in  contrast  to  his  breech- 
clout  and  leathern  leggins  ;  being  grand  officer 
at  top,  and  ragged  Indian  at  bottom. 

White  Plume  was  so  taken  with  the  courtesy  of 
the  captain,  and  pleased  with  one  or  two  presents 
received  from  him,  that  he  accompanied  him  a 
day's  journey  on  his  march,  and  passed  a  night  in 
his  camp,  on  the  margin  of  a  small  stream.  The 
method  of  encamping  generally  observed  by  the 
captain  was  as  follows.  The  twenty  wagons 
were  disposed  in  a  square,  at  the  distance  of 
thirty-three  feet  from  each  other.  In  every  inter- 
val there  was  a  mess  stationed  ;  and  each  mess 
had  its  fire,  where  the  men  cooked,  ate,  gossiped, 
and  slept.  Th&  horses  were  placed  in  the  centre 
of  the  square,  with  a  guard  stationed  over  them 
at  night. 

The  horses  were  "  side  lined,"  as  it  is  termed  ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  fore  and  hind  foot  on  the  same 
side  of  the  animal  were  tied  together,  so  as  to  be 
within  eighteen  inches  of  each  other.  A  horse 
thus  fettered  is  for  a  time  sadly  embarrassed,  but 
soon  becomes  sufficiently  accustomed  to  the  re- 
straint to  move  about  slowly.  It  prevents  his 
wandering  ;  and  his  being  easily  carried  off  at 
night  by  lurking  Indians.  When  a  horse  that  is 
"foot  free"  is  tied  to  one  thus  secured,  the  lat- 
ter forms,  as  it  were,  a  pivot,  round  which  the 
other  runs  and  curvets,  in  case  of  alarm. 

The  encampment  of  which  we  are  speaking 
presented  a  striking  scene.  The  various  mess- 
fires  were  surrounded  by  picturesque  groups, 
standing,  sitting,  and  reclining  ;  some  busied 
in  cooking,  others  in  cleaning  their  weapons  ; 
while  the  frequent  laugh  told  that  the  rough 
joke  or  merry  story  was  going  on.  In  the 
middle  of  the  camp,  before  the  principal  lodge, 
sat  the  two  chieftains,  Captain  Bonneville  and 
White  Plume,  in  soldier  -  like  communion,  the 
captain  delighted  with  the  opportunity  of  meet- 
ing, on  social  terms,  with  one  of  the  red  warriors 
of  the  wilderness,  the  unsophisticated  children  of 
nature.  The  latter  was  squatted  on  his  buffalo 
robe,  his  strong  features  and  red  skin  glaring  in 
the  broad  light  of  a  blazing  fire,  while  he  re- 
counted astounding  tales  of  the  bloody  exploits  of 
his  tribe  and  himself  in  their  wars  with  the  Paw- 
nees ;  for  there  are  no  old  soldiers  more  given  to 
long  campaigning  stories  than  Indian  "  braves." 

The  feuds  of  White  Plume,  however,  had  not 
been  confined  to  the  red  men  ;  he  had  much  to 
say  of  brushes  with  be.e  hunters,  a  class  of  offend- 
ers for  whom  he  seemed  to  cherish  a  particular 
abhorrence.  As  the  species  of  hunting  prose- 
.cuted  by  these  worthies  is  not  laid  down  in  any 


of  the  ancient  books  of  venerie,  and  is,  in  fact, 
peculiar  to  our  western  frontier,  a  word  or  two 
on  the  subject  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  the 
reader. 

The  bee  hunter  is  generally  some  settler  on  the 
verge  of  the  prairies  ;  along,  lank  fellow,  of  fever 
and  ague  complexion,  acquired  from  living  on  new 
soil,  and  in  a  hut  built  of  green  logs.  In  the  au- 
tumn, when  the  harvest  is  over,  these  frontier  set- 
tlers form  parties  of  two  or  three,  and  prepare  for 
a  bee  hunt.  Having  provided  themselves  with  a 
wagon,  and  a  number  of  empty  casks,  they  sally- 
off,  armed  with  their  rifles,  into  the  wilderness,  di- 
recting their  course  east,  west,  north,  or  south, 
without  any  regard  to  the  ordinance  of  the  Amer- 
ican Government  which  strictly  forbids  all  tres- 
pass upon  the  lands  belonging  to  the  Indian 
tribes. 

The  belts  of  woodland  that  traverse  the  lower 
prairies  and  border  the  rivers  are  peopled  by  in- 
numerable swarms  of'wild  bees,  which  make 
their  hives  in  hollow  trees,  and  fill  them  with  honey 
tolled  from  the  rich  flowers  of  the  prairies.  The 
bees,  according  to  popular  assertion,  are  migra- 
ting, like  the  settlers,  to  the  west*.  An  Indian 
trader,  well  experienced  in  the  country,  informs 
us  that  within  ten  years  that  he  has  passed  in 
the  Far  West,  the  bee  has  advanced  westward 
above  a  hundred  miles.  It  is  said  on  the  Missouri 
that  the  wild  Turkey  and  the  wild  bee  go  up  the 
river  together ;  neither  is  found  in  the  upper 
regions.  It  is  but  recently  that  the  wild  turkey- 
has  been  killed  on  the  Nebraska,  or  Platte  ;  and 
his  travelling  competitor,  the  wild  bee,  appeared 
there  about  the  same  time. 

Be  all  this  as  it  may  ;  the  course  of  our  party  of 
bee  hunters  is  to  make  a  wide  circuit  through  the 
woody  river  bottoms,  and  the  patches  of  forest  on 
the  prairies,  marking,  as  they  go  out,  every  tree 
in  which  they  have  detected  a  hive.  These  marks 
are  generally  respected  by  any  other  bee  hunter 
that  should  come  upon  their  track.  When  they 
have  marked  sufficient  to  fill  all  their  casks,  they 
turn  their  faces  homeward,  cut  down  the  trees  as 
they  proceed,  and  having  loaded  their  wagons 
with  honey  and  wax,  return  well  pleased  to  the 
settlements. 

Now  it  so  happens  that  the  Indians  relish  wild 
honey  as  highly  as  do  the  white  men,  and  are  the 
more  delighted  with  this  natural  luxury  from  its 
having,  in  many  instances,  but  recently  made  its 
appearance  in  their  lands.  The  consequence  is 
numberless  disputes  and  conflicts  between  them 
and  the  bee  hunters  :  and  often  a  party  of  the  lat- 
ter, returning,  laden  with  rich  spoil  from  one  of 
their  forays,  are  apt  to  be  waylaid  by  the  native 
lords  of  the  soil  ;  their  honey  to  be  seized,  their  har- 
ness cut  to  pieces,  and  themselves  left  to  find  their 
way  home  the  best  way  they  can,  happy  to  escape 
with  no  greater  personal  harm  than  a  sound  rib- 
roasting. 

Such  were  the  marauders  of  whose  offences  the 
gallant  White  Plume  made  the  most  bitter  com- 
plaint. They  were  chiefly  the  settlers  of  the 
western  part  of  Missouri,  who  are  the  most  fa- 
mous bee  hunters  on  the  frontier,  and  whose  fa- 
vorite hunting  ground  lies  within  the  lands  of  the 
Kansas  tribe.  According  to  the  account  of  White 
Plume,  however,  matters  were  pretty  fairly  bal- 
anced between  him  and  the  offenders  ;  he  having 
as  often  treated  them  to  a  taste  of  the  bitter,  as 
they  had  robbed  him  of  the  sweets. 

It  is  but  justice  to  this  gallant  chief  to  say  that 
he  gave  proofs  of  having  acquired  some  of  the 
lights  of  civilization  from  his  proximity  to  the 


o  ft* 
.  t  0 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


whites,  as  was  evinced  in  his  knowledge  of  driv- 
ing a  bargain.  He  required  hard  cash  in  return 
for  some  corn  with  which  he  supplied  the  worthy 
captain,  atid  left  the  latter  at  a  loss  which  most  to 
admire,  his  native  chivalry  as  a  brave  or  his  ac- 
quired adroitness  as  a  trader. 


CHAPTER  III. 

WIDE  PRAIRIES — VEGETABLE  PRODUCTIONS — 
TABULAR  HILLS — SLABS  OF  SANDSTONE — NE- 
BRASKA OR  PLATTE  RIVER — SCANTY  FARE — 
BUFFALO  SKULLS  —  WAGONS  TURNED  INTO 
BOATS — HERDS  OF  BUFFALO — CLIFFS  RESEM- 
BLING CASTLES  —  THE  CHIMNEY  —  SCOTT'S 
BLUFFS— STORY  CONNECTED  WITH  THEM — THE 
BIGHORN  OR  AHSAHTA — ITS  NATURE  AND 
HABITS — DIFFERENCE  tfETWEEN  THAT  AND  THE 
"WOOLLY  SHEEP,"  OR  GOAT  OF  THE  MOUN- 
TAINS. 

FROM  the  middle  to  the  end  of  May,  Captain 
Bonneville  pursued  a  western  course  over  vast 
undulating  plains,  destitute  of  tree  or  shrub,  ren- 
dered miry  by  occasional  rain,  and  cut  up  by  deep 
water-courses  where  they  had  to  dig  roads  for 
their  wagons  down  the  soft  crumbling  banks,  and 
to  throw  bridges  across  the  streams.  The  weather 
had  attained  the  summer  heat ;  the  thermometer 
standing  about  fifty-seven  degrees  in  the  morn- 
ing, early,  but  rising  to  about  ninety  degrees  at 
noon.  The  incessant  breezes,  however,  which 
sweep  these  vast  plains,  render  the  heats  endura- 
ble. Game  was  scanty,  and  they  had  to  eke  out 
their  scanty  tare  with  wild  roots  and  vegetables, 
such  as  the  Indian  potato,  the  wild  onion,  and  the 
prairie  tomato,  and  they  met  with  quantities  of 
"  red  root,"  from  which  the  hunters  make  a  very 
palatable  beverage.  The  only  human  being  that 
crossed  their  path  was  a  Kansas  warrior,  return- 
ing from  some  solitary  expedition  of  bravado 
or  revenge,  bearing  a  Pawnee  scalp  as  a  trophy. 

The  country  gradually  rose  as  they  proceeded 
westward,  and  their  route  took  them  over  high 
ridges,  commanding  wide  and  beautiful  prospects. 
The  vast  plain  was  studded  on  the  west  with  in- 
numerable hills  of  conical  shape,  such  as  are  seen 
north  of  the  Arkansas  River.  These  hills  have 
their  summits  apparently  cut  off  about  the  same 
elevation,  so  as  to  leave  flat  surfaces  at  top.  It  is 
conjectured  by  some  that  the  whole  country  may 
originally  have  been  of  the  altitude  of  these  tabu- 
lar hills,  but  through  some  process  of  nature  may 
have  sunk  to  its  present  level  ;  these  insulated  emi- 
nences being  protected  by  broad  foundations  ot 
solid  rock. 

Captain  Bonneville  mentions  another  geologi- 
cal phenomenon  north  of  Red  River,  where  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  in  considerable  tracts  of 
country,  is  covered  with  broad  slabs  of  sandstone, 
having  the  form  and  position  of  grave-stones,  and 
looking  as  if  they  had  been  forced  up  by  some 
subterranean  agitation.  "  The  resemblance," 
says  he,  "  which  these  very  remarkable  spots 
have  in  many  places  to  old  churchyards  is  curious 
in  the  extreme.  One  might  almost  fancy  himself 
among  the  tombs  of  the  pre-Adamites." 

On  the  2d  of  June  they  arrived  on  the  main 
stream  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte  River  ;  twenty- 
five  miles  below  the  head  of  the  Great  Island. 
The  low  banks  of  this  river  give  it  an  appearance 
of  great  width.  Captain  Bonneville  measured  it 


in  one  place,  and  found  it  twenty-two  hundred 
yards  from  bank  to  bank.  Its  depth  was  from 
three  to  six  feet,  the  bottom  full  of  quicksands. 
The  Nebraska  is  studded  with  islands  covered 
with  that  species  of  poplar  called  the  cotton-wood 
tree.  Keeping  up  along  the  course  of  this  river 
for  several  days,  they  were  obliged,  from  the  scar- 
city ot  game,  to  put  themselves  upon  short  allow- 
ance, and  occasionally  to  kill  a  steer.  They  bore 
their  daily  labors  and  privations,  however,  with 
great  good  humor,  taking  their  tone,  in  all  prob- 
ability, from  the  buoyant  spirit  of  their  leader. 
"  If  the  weather  was  inclement,"  says  the  captain, 
"  we  watched  the  clouds,  and  hoped  for  a  sight 
of  the  blue  sky  and  the  merry  sun.  If  food  was 
scanty,  we  regaled  ourselves  with  the  hope  of 
soon  falling  in  with  herds  of  buffalo,  and  having 
nothing  to  do  but  slay  and  eat."  We  doubt 
whether  the  genial  captain  is  not  describing  the 
cheerinessot  his  own  breast,  which  gave  a  cheery 
aspect  to  everything  around  him. 

There  certainly  were  evidences,  however,  that 
the  country  was  not  always  equally  destitute  of 
game.  At  one  place  they  observed  a  field  deco- 
rated with  buffalo  skulls,  arranged  in  circles, 
curves,  and  other  mathematical  figures,  as  if  for 
some  mystic  rite  or  ceremony.  They  were  almost 
innumerable,  and  seemed  to  have  been  a  vast 
hecatomb  offered  up  in  thanksgiving  to  the  Great 
Spirit  for  some  signal  success  in  the  chase. 

On  the  iithot  June  they  came  to  the  fork  of 
the  Nebraska,  where  it  divides  itself  into  two 
equal  and  beautiful  streams.  One  of  these 
branches  rises  in  the  west-southwest,  near  the 
head-waters  of  the  Arkansas.  Up  the  course  of 
this  branch,  as  Captain  Bonneville  was  well 
aware,  lay  the  route  to  the  Camanche  and  Kioway 
Indians,  and  to  the  northern  Mexican  settlements; 
of  the  other  branch  he  knew  nothing.  Its  sources 
might  lie  among  wild  and  inaccessible  cliffs,  and 
tumble  and  foam  down  rugged  defiles  and  over 
craggy  precipices  ;  but  its  direction  was  in  the 
true  course,  and  up  this  stream  he  determined  to 
prosecute  his  route  to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Fincing  it  impossible,  from  quicksands  and  other 
dangerous  impediments,  to  cross  the  river  in  this 
neighborhood,  he  kept  up  along  the  south  fork  for 
two  days,  merely  seeking  a  safe  fording  place. 
At  length  he  encamped,  caused  the  bodies  of  the 
wagons  to  be  dislodged  from  the  wheels,  covered 
with  buffalo  hides,  and  besmeared  with  a  com- 
pound of  tallow  and  ashes  ;  thus  forming  rude 
boats.  In  these  they  ferried  their  effects  across 
the  stream,  which  was  six  hundred  yards  wide, 
with  a  swift  and  strong  current.  Three  men  were 
in  each  boat,  to  manage  it  ;  others  waded  across, 
pushing  the  barks  before  them.  Thus  all  crossed 
in  safety.  A  march  of  nine  miles  took  them  over 
high  rolling  prairies  to  the  north  fork  ;  their  eyes 
being  regaled  with  the  welcome  sight  of  herds  of 
buffalo  at  a  distance,  some  careering  the  plain, 
others  grazing  and  reposing  in  the  natural  mead- 
ows. 

Skirting  along  the  north  fork  for  a  day  or  two, 
excessively  annoyed  by  musquitoes  and  buffalo 
gnats,  they  reached,  in  the  evening  ot  the  iyth,  a 
small  but;  beautiful  grove,  from  which  issued  the 
confused  notes  of  singing  birds,  the  first  they  had 
heard  since  crossing  the  boundary  of  Missouri. 
After  so  many  days  of  weary  travelling,  through 
a  naked,  monotonous  and  silent  country,  it  was 
delightful  once  more  to  hear  the  song  of  the  bird, 
and  to  behold  the  verdure  of  the  grove.  It  was  a 
beautiful  sunset,  and  a  sight  of  the  glowing  rays, 
mantling  the  tree-tops  and  rustling  branches, 


/^//  .  X/////V///,y  ///      /  ///////. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


277 


gladdened  every  heart.  They  pitched  their  camp 
in  the  grove,  kindled  their  fires,  partook  merrily 
oi  their  rude  fare,  and  resigned  themselves  to  the 
sweetest  sleep  they  had  enjoyed  since  their  outset 
upon  the  prairies. 

The  country  now  became  rugged  and  broken. 
High  bluffs  advanced  upon  the  river,  and  forced 
the  travellers  occasionally  to  leave  its  banks  and 
wind  their  course  into  the  interior.  In  one  of  the 
wild  and  solitary  passes  they  were  startled  by  the 
trail  of  four  or  five  pedestrians,  whom  they  sup- 
posed to  be  spies  from  some  predatory  camp  of 
either  Arickara  or  Crow  Indians.  This  obliged 
them  to  redouble  their  vigilance  at  night,  and  to 
keep  especial  watch  upon  their  horses.  In  these 
rugged  and  elevated  regions  they  began  to  see 
the  black-tailed  deer,  a  species  larger  than  the  or- 
dinary kind,  and  chiefly  found  in  rocky  and  moun- 
tainous countries.  They  had  reached  also  a  great 
buffalo  range  ,  Captain  Bonneville  ascended  a 
high  bluff,  commanding  an  extensive  view  of  the 
surrounding  plains.  As  far  as  his  eye  could 
reach,  the  country  seemed  absolutely  blackened 
by  innumerable  herds.  No  language,  he  says, 
could  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the  vast  living 
mass  thus  presented  to  his  eye.  He  remarked 
that  the  bulls  and  cows  generally  congregated  in 
separate  herds. 

Opposite  to  the  camp  at  this  place  was  a  sin- 
gular phenomenon,  which  is  among  the  curiosities 
of  the  country.  It  is  called  the  chimney.  The 
lower  part  is  a  conical  mound,  rising  out  of  the 
naked  plain  ;  from  the  summit  shoots  up  a  shaft 
or  column,  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in 
height,  from  which  it  derives  its  name.  The 
height  of  the  whole,  according  to  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, is  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  yards.  It  is 
composed  of  indurated  clay,  with  alternate  layers 
of  red  and  white  sandstone,  and  may  be  seen  at 
the  distance  of  upward  of  thirty  miles. 

On  the  2ist  they  encamped  amid  high  and 
beetling  cliffs  of  Jndurated  clay  and  sandstone, 
bearing  the  semblance  of  towers,  castles, 
churches,  and  fortified  cities.  At  a  distance  it 
was  scarcely  possible  to  persuade  one's  self  that 
the  works  of  art  were  not  mingled  with  these  fan- 
tastic freaks  of  nature.  They  have  received  the 
name  of  Scott's  Bluffs,  from  a  melancholy  cir- 
cumstance. A  number  of  years  since,  a  party 
were  descending  the  upper  part  of  the  river  in 
canoes,  when  their  frail  barks  Were  overturned 
and  all  their  powder  spoiled.  Their  rifles  being 
thus  rendered  useless,  they  were  unable  to  pro- 
cure food  by  hunting  and  had  to  depend  upon 
roots  and  wild  fruits  for  subsistence.  After  suf- 
fering extremely  from  hunger,  they  arrived  at 
Laramie's  Fork,  a  small  tributary  of  the  north 
branch  of  the  Nebraska,  about  sixty  miles  above 
the  cliffs  just  mentioned.  Here  one  of  the  party, 
by  the  name  of  Scott,  was  taken  ill  ;  and  his  com- 
panions came  to  a  halt,  until  he  should  recover 
health  and  strength  sufficient  to  proceed.  While 
they  were  searching  round  in  quest  of  edible 
roots  they  discovered  a  fresh  trail  of  white  men, 
who  had  evidently  but  recently  preceded  them. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  By  a  forced  march  they 
might  overtake  this  party,  and  thus  be  able  to 
reach  the  settlements  in  safety.  Should  they  linger 
they  might  all  perish  of  famine  and  exhaustion. 
Scott,  however,  was  incapable  of  moving  ;  they 
were  too  feeble  to  aid  him  forward,  and  dreaded 
that  such  a  clog  would  prevent  their  coming  up 
with  the  advance  party.  They  determined,  there- 
fore, to  abandon  him  to  his  fate.  Accordingly, 


under  pretence  of  seeking  food,  and  such  simples 
as  might  be  efficacious  in  his  malady,  they  de- 
serted him  and  hastened  forward  upon  the  trail. 
They  succeeded  in  overtaking  the  party  of  which 
they  were  in  quest,  but  concealed  their  faithless 
desertion  of  Scott ;  alleging  that  he  had  died  of 
disease. 

On  the  ensuing  summer,  these  very  individuals 
visiting  these  parts  in  company  with  others,  came 
suddenly  upon  the  bleached  bones  and  grinning 
skull  of  a  human  skeleton,  which,  by  certain  signs 
they  recognized  for  the  remains  of  Scott.  This 
was  sixty  long  miles  from  the  place  where  they 
had  abandoned  him  ;  and  it  appeared  that  the 
wretched  man  had  crawled  that  immense  dis- 
tance before  death  put  an  end  to  his  miseries. 
The  wild  and  picturesque  bluffs  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  lonely  grave  have  ever  since  borne 
his  name. 

Amid  this  wild  and  striking  scenery,  Captain 
Bonneville,  for  the  first  time,  beheld  flocks  of  the 
ahsahta  or  bighorn,  an  animal  which  frequents 
these  cliffs  in  great  numbers.  They  accord  with 
the  nature  of  such  scenery,  and  add  much  to  its 
romantic  effect  ;  bounding  like  goats  from  crag 
to  crag,  often  trooping  along  the  lofty  shelves  of  the 
mountains,  under  the  guidance  of  some  venera- 
ble patriarch,  with  horns  twisted  lower  than  his 
muzzle,  and  sometimes  peering  over  the  edge  of 
a  precipice,  so  high  that  they  appear  scarce  big- 
ger than  crows  ;  indeed,  it  seems  a  pleasure  to 
them  to  seek  the  most  rugged  and  frightful  situa- 
tions, doubtless  from  a  feeling  of  security. 

This  animal  is  commonly  called  the  mountain 
sheep,  and  is  often  confounded  with  another  ani- 
mal, the  "woolly  sheep,"  found  more  to  the 
northward,  about  the  country  of  the  Flatheads. 
The  latter  likewise  inhabits  cliffs  in  summer,  but 
descends  into  the  valleys  in  the  winter.  It  has 
white  vool,  like  a  sheep,  mingled  with  a  thin 
growth  of  long  hair  ;  but  it  has  short  legs,  a  deep 
belly,  and  a  beard  like  a  goat.  Its  horns  are 
about  five  inches  long,  slightly  curved  backward, 
black  as  jet,  and  beautifully  polished.  Its  hoofs 
are  of  the  same  color.  This  animal  is  by  no  means 
so  active  as  the  bighorn  ,  it  does  not  bound  much, 
but  sits  a  good  deal  upon  its  haunches.  It  is  not 
so  plentiful  either  ;  rarely  more  than  two  or 
three  are  seen  at  a  time.  Its  wool  alone  gives  a 
resemblance  to  the  sheep  ;  it  is  more  properly  of 
the  goat  genus.  The  flesh  is  said  to  have  a  musty- 
flavor  ;  some  have  thought  the  fleece  might  be 
valuable,  as  it  is  said  to  be  as  fine  as  that  of  the 
goat  of  Cashmere,  but  it  is  not  to  be  procured  in 
sufficient  quantities. 

The  ahsahta,  argali,  or  bighorn,  on  the  contrary, 
has  short  hair  like  a  deer,  and  resembles  it  in 
shape,  but  has  the  head  and  horns  of  a  sheep, 
and  its  flesh  is  said  to  be  delicious  mutton.  The 
Indians  consider  it  more  sweet  and  delicate  than 
any  other  kind  of  venison.  It  abounds  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  from  the  fiftieth  degree  of  north 
latitude  quite  down  to  California  ;  generally  in  the 
highest  regions  capable  of  vegetation  ;  sometimes 
it  ventures  into  the  valleys,  but  on  the  least  alarm, 
regains  its  favorite  cliffs  and  precipices,  where  it 
is  perilous,  if  not  impossible  for  the  hunter  to  fol- 
low.* 


*  Dimensions  of  a  male  of  this  species  :  from  the  nose 
to  the  base  of  the  tail,  five  feet  .  length  of  the  tail, 
four  inches  :  girth  of  the  body,  four  feet  ;  height, 
three  feet  eight  inches  ;  (he  horn,  three  feet  six  inches 
long,  one  foot  three  inches  in  circumference  at  base. 


278 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AN  ALARM — CROW  INDIANS — THEIR  APPEARANCE 
— MODE  OF  APPROACH — THEIR  VENGEFUL  ER- 
RAND—THEIR CURIOSITY— HOSTILITY  BETWEEN 
THE  CROWS  AND  BLACKFEET — LOVING  CON- 
DUCT OF  THE  CROWS — LARAMIE'S  FORK — FIRST 
NAVIGATION  OF  THE  NEBRASKA — GREAT  ELE- 
VATION OF  THE  COUNTRY — RARITY  OF  THE 
ATMOSPHERE — ITS  EFFECTS  ON  THE  WOOD- 
WORK OF  WAGONS — BLACK  HILLS — THEIR  WILD 
AND  BROKEN  SCENERY — INDIAN  DOGS — CROW 
TROPHIES— STERILE  AND  DREARY  COUNTRY — 
BANKS  OF  THE  SWEET  WATER — BUFFALO  HUNT- 
ING—ADVENTURE OF  TOM  CAIN,  THE  IRISH 
COOK. 

WHEN  on  the  march,  Captain  Bonneville  always 
sent  some  of  his  best  hunters  in  the  advance  to 
reconnoitre  the  country,  as  well  as  to  look  out  for 
game.  On  the  24th  of  May,  as  the  caravan  was 
slowly  journeying  up  the  banks  of  the  Nebraska, 
the  hunters  came  galloping  back,  waving  their 
caps,  and  giving  the  alarm  cry,  Indians  !  Indians  ! 

The  captain  immediately  ordered  a  halt  :  the 
hunters  now  came  up  and  announced  that  a  large 
war-party  of  Crow  Indians  were  just  above,  on 
the  river.  The  captain  knew  the  character  of 
these  savages  ;  one  of  the  most  roving,  warlike, 
crafty,  and  predatory  tribes  of  the  mountains  ; 
horse-stealers  of  the  first  order,  and  easily  pro- 
voked to  acts  of  sanguinary  violence.  Orders 
were  accordingly  given  to  prepare  for  action,  and 
every  one  promptly  took  the  post  that  had  been 
assigned  him,  in  the  general  order  of  the  march, 
in  all  cases  of  warlike  emergency. 

Everything  being  put  in  battle  array,  the  cap- 
tain took  the  lead  of  his  little  band,  and  moved  on 
slowly  and  warily.  In  a  little  while  he  beheld 
the  Crew  warriors  emerging  from  among  the 
bluffs.  There  were  about  sixty  of  them  ;  fine 
martial-looking  fellows,  painted  and  arrayed  for 
war,  and  mounted  on  horses  decked  out  with  all 
kinds  of  wild  trappings.  They  came  prancing 
along  in  gallant  style,  with  many  wild  and  dexter- 
ous evolutions,  for  none  can  surpass  them  in  horse- 
manship ;  and  their  bright  colors,  and  flaunting 
and  fantastic  embellishments,  glaring  and  spark- 
ling in  the  morning  sunshine,  gave  them  really  a 
striking  appearance. 

Their  mode  of  approach,  to  one  not  acquainted 
with  the  tactics  and  ceremonies  of  this  rude  chiv- 
alry of  the  wilderness,  had  an  air  of  direct  hos- 
tility. They  came  galloping  forward  in  a  body, 
as  if  about  to  make  a  furious  charge,  but,  when 
close  at  hand,  opened  to  the  right  and  left,  and 
wheeled  in  wide  circles  round  the  travellers, 
\vhooping  and  yelling  like  maniacs. 

This  done,  their  mock  fury  sank  into  a  calm, 
and  the  chief,  approaching  the  captain,  who  had 
remained  warily  drawn  up,  though  informed  of 
the  pacific  nature  of  the  manoeuvre,  extended  to 
him  the  hand  of  friendship.  The  pipe  of  peace 
was  smoked,  and  now  all  was  good  fellowship. 

The  Crows  were  in  pursuit  of  a  band  of  Chey- 
ennes,  who  had  attacked  their  village  in  the  night, 
and  killed  one  of  their  people.  They  had  already 
been  five  and  twenty  days  on  the  track  of  the  ma- 
rauders, and  were  determined  not  to  return  home 
until  they  had  sated  their  revenge. 

A  lew  days  previously,  some  of  their  scouts, 
who  were  ranging  the  country  at  a  distance  from 
the  main  body,  had  discovered  the  party  of  Cap- 
tain Bonneville.  They  had  dogged  it  for  a  time 
in  secret,  astonished  at  the  long  train  of  wagons 


and  oxen,  and  especially  struck  with  the  sight  of 
a  cow  and  a  call,  quietly  following  the  caravan  ; 
supposing  them  to  be  some  kind  ot  tame  buffalo. 
Having  satsified  their  curiosity,  they  carried 
back  to  their  chief  intelligence  of  all  that  they  had 
seen.  He  had,  in  consequence,  diverged  from 
his  pursuit  of  vengeance  to  behold  the  wonders 
described  to  him.  "  Now  that  we  have  met 
you,"  said  he  to  Captain  Bonneville,  "  and  have 
seen  these  marvels  with  our  own  eyes,  our  hearts 
are  glad."  In  fact,  nothing  could  exceed  the  cu- 
riosity evinced  by  these  people  as  to  the  objects 
before  them.  Wagons  had  never  been  seen  by 
them  before,  and  they  examined  them  with  the 
greatest  minuteness  ;  but  the  calf  was  the  pe«uliar 
object  of  their  admiration.  They  watched  it  with 
intense  interest  as  it  licked  the  hands  accustomed 
to  feed  it,  and  were  struck  with  the  mild  expres- 
sion of  its  countenance,  and  its  perfect  docility. 

After  much  sage  consultation,  they  at  length 
determined  that  it  must  be  the  "  great  medicine" 
of  the  white  party  ;  an  appellation  given  by  the 
Indians  to  anything  of  supernatural  and  mysteri- 
ous power,  that  is  guarded  as  a  talisman.  They 
were  completely  thrown  out  in  their  conjecture, 
however,  by  an  offer  of  the  white  men  to  exchange 
the  calf  for  a  horse  ;  their  estimation  ot  the  great 
medicine  sank  in  an  instant,  and  they  declined  the 
bargain. 

At  the  request  of  the  Crow  chieftain  the  two 
parties  encamped  together,  and  passed  the  residue 
of  the  day  in  company.  The  captain  was  well 
pleased  with  every  opportunity  to  gain  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  "  unsophisticated  sons  of  nature," 
who  had  so  long  been  objects  of  his  poetic  specu- 
lations ;  and  indeed  this  wild,  horse-stealing  tribe 
is  one  of  the  most  notorious  of  the  mountains. 
The  chief,  of  course,  had  his  scalps  to  show  and 
his  battles  to  recount.  The  Blacktoot  is  the 
hereditary  enemy  of  the  Crow,  toward  whom  hos- 
tility is  like  a  cherished  principle  of  religion  ;  for 
every  tribe,  besides  its  casual  antagonists,  has 
some  enduring  foe  with  whom  there  can  be  no 
permanent  reconciliation.  The  Crows  and  Black- 
feet,  upon  the  whole,  are  enemies  worthy  of  each 
other,  being  rogues  and  ruffians  of  the  first  water. 
As  their  predatory  excursions  extend  over  the 
same  regions,  they  olten  come  in  contact  with 
each  other,  and  these  casual  conflicts  serve  to 
keep  their  wits  awake  and  their  passions  alive. 

The  present  party  of  Crows,  however,  evinced 
nothing  of  the  invidious  character  for  which  they 
are  renowned.  During  the  day  and  night  that 
they  were  encamped  in  company  with  the  travel- 
lers, their  conduct  was  friendly  in  the  extreme. 
They  were,  in  fact,  quite  irksome  in  their  atten- 
tions, and  had  a  caressing  manner  at  times  quite 
importunate.  It  was  not  until  after  separation  on 
the  following  morning,  that  the  captain  and  his 
men  ascertained  the  secret  of  all  this  loving-kind- 
ness. In  the  course  of  their  fraternal  caresses, 
the  Crows  had  contrived  to  empty  the  pockets  of 
their  white  brothers  ;  to  abstract  the  very  buttons 
from  their  coats,  and,  above  all,  to  make  free 
with  their  hunting  knives. 

By  equal  altitudes  of  the  sun,  taken  at  this  last 
encampment,  Captain  Bonneville  ascertained  his 
latitude  to  be  41°  47'  north.  The  thermometer, 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  stood  at  fifty-nine 
degrees  ;  at  two  o'clock,  P.M.,  at  ninety-two  de- 
grees ;  and  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  at 
seventy  degrees. 

The  Black  Hills,  or  Mountains,  now  began  to  be 
seen  at  a  distance,  printing  the  horizon  with  their 
rugged  and  broken  outlines  ;  and  threatening  to 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


279 


oppose  a  difficult  barrier  in  the  way  of  the  travel- 
lers. 

On  the  26th  of  May,  the  travellers  encamped  at 
Laramie's  Fork,  a  clear  and  beautiful  stream,  ris- 
ing in  the  west-southwest,  maintaining  an  average 
width  of  twenty  yards,  and  winding  through  broad 
meadows  abounding  in  currants  and  gooseberries, 
and  adorned  with  groves  and  clumps  of  trees. 

By  an  observation  of  Jupiter's  satellites,  with  a 
Dolland  reflecting  telescope,  Captain  Bonneville 
ascertained  the  longitude  to  be  1028  57'  west  of 
Greenwich. 

We  will  here  step  ahead  of  our  narrative  to  ob- 
serve, that  about  three  years  after  the  time  of 
which  we  are  treating,  Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  for- 
merly of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company,  de- 
scended the  Platte  from  this  fork,  in  skin  canoes, 
thus  proving,  what  had  always  been  discredited, 
that  the  river  was  navigable.  About  the  same 
time,  he  built  a  fort  or  trading  post  at  Laramie's 
Fork,  which  he  named  Fort  William,  after  his 
friend  and  partner,  Mr.  William  Sublette.  Since 
that  time,  the  Platte  has  become  a  highway  for  the 
fur  traders. 

For  some  clays  past,  Captain  Bonneville  had 
been  made  sensible  of  the  great  elevation  of 
country  into  which  he  was  gradually  ascending, 
by  the  effect  of  the  dryness  and  rarefaction  of  the 
atmosphere  upon  his  wagons.  The  woodwork 
shrunk  ;  the  paint  boxes  of  the  wheels  were  con- 
tinually working  out,  and  it  was  necessary  to  sup- 
port the  spokes  by  stout  props  to  prevent  their 
falling  asunder.  The  travellers  were  now  enter- 
ing one  of  those  great  steppes  of  the  Far  West, 
where  the  prevalent  aridity  of  the  atmosphere 
renders  the  country  unfit  for  cultivation.  In  these 
regions  there  is  a  fresh  sweet  growth  of  grass  in 
the  spring,  but  it  is  scanty  and  short,  and  parches 
up  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  so  that  there  is 
none  for  the  hunters  to  set  fire  to  in  the  autumn. 
It  is  a  common  observation  that  "  above  the  forks 
of  the  Platte  the  grass  does  not  burn."  All  at- 
tempts at  agriculture  and  gardening  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Fort  William  have  been  attended  with 
very  little  success.  The  grain  and  vegetables 
raised  there  have  been  scanty  in  quantity  and 
poor  in  quality.  The  great  elevation  of  these 
plains,  and  the  dryness  of  the  atmosphere,  will 
tend  to  retain  these  immense  regions  in  a  state  of 
pristine  wildness. 

In  (he  course  of  a  day  or  two  more,  the  travel- 
lers entered  that  wild  and  broken  tract  of  the 
Crow  country  called  the  Black  Hills,  and  here 
their  journey  became  toilsome  in  the  extreme. 
Rugged  steeps  and  deep  ravines  incessantly  ob- 
structed their  progress,  so  that  a  great  part  of  the 
day  was  spent  in  the  painful  toil  of  digging 
through  banks,  filling  up  ravines,  forcing  the 
wagons  up  the  most  forbidding  ascents,  or  swing- 
ing them  with  ropes  down  the  face  of  dangerous 
precipices.  The  shoes  of  their  horses  were  worn 
out,  and  their  feet  injured  by  the  rugged  and 
stony  roads.  The  travellers  were  annoyed  also 
by  frequent  but  brief  storms,  which  would  come 
hurrying  over  the  hills,  or  through  the  mountain 
defiles,  rage  with  great  fury  for  a  short  time,  and 
then  pass  off,  leaving  everything  calm  and  serene 
again. 

For  several  nights  the  camp  had  been  infested 
by  vagabond  Indian  dogs,  prowling  about  in 
quest  of  food.  They  were  about  the  size  of  a 
large  pointer  ;  with  ears  short  and  erect,  and  a 
long  bushy  tail — altogether,  they  bore  a  striking 
resemblance  to  a  wolf.  These  skulking  visitors 
would  keep  about  the  purlieus  of  the  camp  until 


daylight;  when,  on  the  first  stir  of  life  among  the 
sleepers,  they  would  scamper  off  until  they 
reached  some  rising  ground,  where  they  would 
take  their  seats,  and  keep  a  sharp  and  hungry 
watch  upon  every  movement.  The  moment  the 
travellers  were  fairly  on  the  march,  and  the  camp 
was  abandoned,  these  starveling  hangers-on  would 
hasten  to  the  deserted  fires  to  seize  upon  the  half- 
picked  bones,  the  offal  and  garbage  that  lay 
about  ;  and,  having  made  a  hasty  meal,  with 
many  a  snap  and  snarl  and  growl,  would  follow 
leisurely  on  the  trail  of  the  caravan.  Many  at- 
tempts were  made  to  coax  or  catch  them,  but  in 
vain.  Their  quick  and  suspicious  eye  caught  the 
slightest  sinister  movement,  and  they  turned  and 
scampered  off.  At  length  one  was  taken.  He 
was  terribly  alarmed,  and  crouched  and  trembled 
as  if  expecting  instant  death.  Soothed,  however, 
by  caresses,  he  began  after  a  time  to  gather  con- 
fidence and  wag  his  tail,  and  at  length  was 
brought  to  follow  close  at  the  heels  of  his  captors, 
still,  however,  darting  around  furtive  and  sus- 
picious glances,  and  evincing  a  disposition  to 
scamper  off  upon  the  least  alarm. 

On  the  first  of  July  the  band  of  Crow  warriors 
again  crossed  their  path.  They  came  in  vaunting 
and  vainglorious  style  ;  displaying  five  Cheyenne 
scalps,  the  trophies  of  their  vengeance.  They 
were  now  bound  homeward,  to  appease  the  manes 
of  their  comrade  by  these  proofs  that  his  death 
had  been  revenged,  and  intended  to  have  scalp 
dances  and  other  triumphant  rejoicings.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  and  his  men,  however,  were  by 
no  means  disposed  to  renew  their  confiding  inti- 
macy with  these  crafty  savages,  and  above  all, 
took  care  to  avoid  their  pilfering  caresses.  They 
remarked  one  precaution  of  the  Crows  with  respect 
to  their  horses  ;  to  protect  their  hoofs  from  the 
sharp  and  jagged  rocks  among  which  they  had  to 
pass,  they  had  covered  them  with  shoes  of  buffalo 
hide. 

The  route  of  the  travellers  lay  generally  along 
the  course  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte,  but  occa- 
sionally, where  steep  promontories  advanced  to 
the  margin  of  the  stream,  they  were  obliged  to 
make  inland  circuits.  One  of  these  took  them 
through  a  bold  and  stern  country,  bordered  by  a 
range  of  low  mountains,  running  east  and  west. 
Everything  around  bore  traces  of  some  fearful 
convulsion  of  nature  in  times  long  past.  Hither- 
to the  various  strata  of  rock  had  exhibited  a  gentle 
elevation  toward  the  southwest,  but  here  every- 
thing appeared  to  have  been  subverted,  and 
thrown  out  of  place.  In  many  places  there  were 
heavy  beds  of  white  sandstone  resting  upon  red. 
Immense  strata  of  rocks  jutted  up  into  crags  and 
cliffs  ;  and  sometimes  formed  perpendicular  walls 
and  overhanging  precipices.  An  air  of  sterility 
prevailed  over  these  savage  wastes.  The  valleys 
were  destitute  of  herbage,  and  scantily  clothed 
with  a  stunted  species  of  wormwood,  generally 
known  among  traders  and  trappers  by  the  name 
of  sage.  From  an  elevated  point  of  their  march 
through  this  region,  the  travellers  caught  a  beau- 
tiful view  of  the  Powder  Rock  Mountains  away  to 
the  north,  stretching  along  the  very  verge  of  the 
horizon,  and  seeming,  from  the  snow  with  which 
they  were  mantled,  to  be  a  chain  of  small  white 
clouds  connecting  sky  and  earth. 

Though  the  thermometer  at  mid-day  ranged 
from  eighty  to  ninety,  and  even  sometimes  rose  to 
ninety-three  degrees,  yet  occasional  spots  of  snow 
were  to  be  seen  on  the  tops  of  the  low  mountains, 
among  which  the  travellers  were  journeying  ; 
proofs  of  the  great  elevation  of  the  whole  region. 


280 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


The  Nebraska,  in  its  passage  through  the  Black 
Hills,  is  confined  to  a  much  narrower  channel 
that  that  through  which  it  flows  in  the  plains  be- 
low ;  but  it  is  deeper  and  clearer,  and  rushes  with 
a  stronger  current.  The  scenery,  also,  is  more 
varied  and  beautiful.  Sometimes  it  glides  rapidly 
but  smoothly  through  a  picturesque  valley,  be- 
tween wooded  banks  ;  then,  forcing  its  way  into 
'the  bosom  of  rugged  mountains,  it  rushes  impetu- 
ously through  narrow  defiles,  roaring  and  foam- 
ing down  rocks  and  rapids,  until  it  is  again 
soothed  to  rest  in  some  peaceful  valley. 

On  the  I2th  of  July  Captain  Bonneville  abandoned 
the  main  stream  of  the  Nebraska,  which  was  con- 
tinually shouldered  by  rugged  promontories,  and 
making  a  bend  to  the  southwest,  for  a  couple  of 
days,  part  of  the  time  over  plains  of  loose  sand, 
encamped  on  the  I4th  on  the  banks  of  the  Sweet 
Water,  a  stream  about  twenty  yards  in  breadth, 
and  four  or  five  feet  deep,  flowing  between  low 
banks  over  a  sandy  soil,  and  forming  one  of  the 
forks  or  upper  branches  of  the  Nebraska.  Up 
this  stream  they  now  shaped  their  course  for  sev- 
eral successive  days,  tending  generally  to  the 
west.  The  soil  was  light  and  sandy  ;  the  country 
much  diversified.  Frequently  the  plains  were 
studded  with  isolated  blocks  of  rock,  sometimes 
in  the  shape  of  a  half  globe,  and  from  three  to 
four  hundred  feet  high.  These  singular  masses 
had  occasionally  a  very  imposing,  and  even  sub- 
lime appearance,  rising  from  the  midst  of  a  sav- 
age and  lonely  landscape. 

As  the  travellers  continued  to  advance,  they  be- 
came more  and  more  sensible  of  the  elevation  of 
the  country.  The  hills  around  were  more  gener- 
ally capped  with  snow.  The  men  complained  of 
cramps  and  colic,  sore  lips  and  mouths,  and  vio- 
lent headaches.  The  wood-work  of  thz  wagons 
also  shrank  so  much  that  it  was  with  difficulty  the 
wheels  were  kept  from  falling  to  pieces.  The 
country  bordering  upon  the  river  was  frequently 
gashed  with  deep  ravines,  or  traversed  by  high 
bluffs,  to  avoid  which  the  travellers  were  obliged 
to  make  wide  circuits  through  the  plains.  In  the 
course  of  these,  they  came  upon  immense  herds 
of  buffalo,  which  kept  scouring  off  in  the  van, 
like  a  retreating  army. 

Among  the  motley  retainers  of  the  camp  was 
Tom  Cain,  a  raw  Irishman,  who  officiated  as 
cook,  whose  various  blunders  and  expedients  in 
his  novel  situation,  and  in  the  wild  scenes  and 
wild  kind  of  life  into  which  he  had  suddenly  been 
thrown,  had  made  him  a  kind  of  butt  or  droll  of 
the  camp.  Tom,  however,  began  to  discover  an 
ambition  superior  to  his  station;  and  the  conver- 
sation of  the  hunters,  and  their  stories  of  their  ex- 
ploits, inspired  him  with  a  desire  to  elevate  him- 
self to  the  dignity  of  their  order.  The  buffalo  in 
such  immense  droves  presented  a  tempting  oppor- 
tunity tor  making  his  first  essay.  He  rode,  in  the 
line  of  march,  all  prepared  for  action  :  his  powder- 
flask  and  shot-pouch  knowingly  slung  at  the  pom- 
mel of  his  saddle,  to  be  at  hand;  his  rifle  balanced 
on  his  shoulder.  While  in  this  plight  a  troop  of 
buffalo  came  trotting  by  in  great  alarm.  In  an 
instant,  Tom  sprang  from  his  horse  and  gave 
chase  on  foot.  Finding  they  were  leaving  him 
behind,  he  levelled  his  rifle  and  pulled  trigger. 
His  shot  produced  no  other  effect  than  to  increase 
the  speed  of  the  buffalo,  and  to  frighten  his  own 
horse,  who  took  to  his  heels,  and  scampered  off 
with  all  the  ammunition.  Tom  scampered  after 
him,  hallooing  with  might  and  main,  and  the  wild 
horse  and  wild  Irishman  soon  disappeared  among 
the  ravines  of  the  prairie.  Captain  Bonneville, 


who  was  at  the  head  of  the  line,  and  had  seen  . 
transaction  at  a  distance,  detached  a  party  in  puk 
suit  of  Tom.     After  a  long  interval  they  returned, 
leading   the   frightened    horse  ;  but   though  they 
had    scoured    the   country,  and    looked    out  and 
shouted  from  every  height,  they  had  seen  nothing 
of  his  rider. 

As  Captain  Bonneville  knew  Tom's  utter  awk- 
wardness and  inexperience,  and  the  dangers  of  a 
bewildered  Irishman  in  the  midst  of  a  prairie,  he 
halted  and  encamped  at  an  early  hour,  that  there 
might  be  a  regular  hunt  for  him  in  the  morning. 

At  early  dawn  on  the  following  day  scouts  were 
sent  off  in  every  direction,  while  the  main  body, 
after  breakfast,  proceeded  slowly  on  its  course. 
It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that 
the  hunters  returned,  with  honest  Tom  mounted 
behind  one  of  them.  They  had  found  him  in  a 
complete  state  of  perplexity  and  amazement.  His 
appearance  caused  shouts  of  merriment  in  the 
camp  ;  but  Tom  for  one  could  not  join  in  the 
mirth  raised  at  his  expense  ;  he  was  completely 
chapfallen,  and  apparently  cured  of  the  hunting 
mania  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 


CHAPTER   V. 

MAGNIFICENT  SCENERY — WIND  RIVER  MOUN- 
TAINS— TREASURY  OF  WATERS — A  STRAY 
HORSE — AN  INDIAN  TRAIL — TROUT  STREAMS — 
THE  GREAT  GREEN  RIVER  VALLEY — AN  ALARM 
— A  BAND  OF  TRAPPERS — FONTENELLE,  HIS 
INFORMATION — SUFFERINGS  OF  THIRST — EN- 
CAMPMENT ON  THE  SEEDS-KE-DEE — STRATEGY 
OF  RIVAL  TRADERS — FORTIFICATION  OF  THE 
CAMP— THE  BLACKFEET — BANDITTI  OF  THE 
MOUNTAINS — THEIR  CHARACTER  AND  HABITS. 

IT  was  on  the  2oth  of  July  that  Captain  Bonne- 
ville first  came  in  sight  of  the  grand  region  of  his 
hopes  and  anticipations,  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
He  had  been  making  a  bend  to  the  south,  to  avoid 
some  obstacles  along  the  river,  and  had  attained 
a  high,  rocky  ridge,  when  a  magnificent  prospect 
burst  upon  his  sight.  To  the  west  rose  the  Wind 
River  Mountains,  with  their  bleached  and  snowy 
summits  towering  into  the  clouds.  These 
stretched  far  to  the  north-northwest,  until  they 
melted  away  into  what  appeared  to  be  faint 
clouds,  but  which  the  experienced  eyes  of  the  vete- 
ran hunters  of  the  party  recognized  for  the  rugged 
mountains  of  the  Yellowstone  ;  at  the  feet  of 
which  extended  the  wild  Crow  country  :  a  peril- 
ous, though  profitable  region  for  the  trapper. 

To  the  southwest  the  eye  ranged  over  an  im- 
mense extent  of  wilderness,  with  what  appeared 
to  be  a  snowy  vapor  resting  upon  its  horizon. 
This,  however,  was  pointed  out  as  another  branch 
of  the  great  Chippewyan,  or  Rocky  chain  ;  being 
the  Eutaw  Mountains,  at  whose  basis  the  wander- 
ing tribe  of  hunters  of  the  same  name  pitch  their 
tents. 

We  can  imagine  the  enthusiasm  of  the  worthy 
captain,  when  he  beheld  the  vast  and  mountain- 
ous scene  of  his  adventurous  enterprise  thus  sud- 
denly unveiled  before  him.  We  can  imagine  with 
what  feelings  of  awe  and  admiration  he  must  have 
contemplated  the  Wind  River  Sierra,  or  bed  of 
mountains  ;  that  great  fountain-head  from  whose 
springs,  and  lakes,  and  melted  snows  some  of 
those  mighty  rivers  take  their  rise,  which  wander 
over  hundreds  of  miles  of  varied  country  and 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


281 


clime,  and  find  their  way  to  the  opposite  waves  of 
the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific. 

The  Wind  River  Mountains  are,  in  fact,  among 
the  most  remarkable  of  the  whole  Rocky  chain  ; 
and  would  appear  to  be  among  the  loftiest.  They 
form,  as  it  were,  a  great  bed  of  mountains,  about 
eighty  miles  in  length,  and  from  twenty  to  thirty 
in  breadth  ;  with  rugged  peaks,  covered  with 
eternal  snows,  and  deep,  narrow  valleys,  full  of 
springs,  and  brooks,  and  rock-bound  lakes.  From 
this  great  treasury  of  waters  issue  forth  limpid 
streams  which,  augmenting  as  they  descend,  be- 
come main  tributaries  of  the  Missouri  on  one 
side,  and  the  Columbia  on  the  other  ;  and  give  rise 
to  the  Seeds-ke-dee,  Agie  or  Green  River,  the  great 
Colorado  of  the  West,  that  empties  its  current 
into  the  Gulf  of  California. 

The  Wind  River  Mountains  are  notorious  in 
hunters'  and  trappers'  stories  :  their  rugged  de- 
files, and  the  rough  tracts  about  their  neighbor- 
hood, having  been  lurking  places  for  the  predatory 
hordes  of  the  mountains,  and  scenes  of  rough  en- 
counter with  Crows  and  Blackfeet.  It  was  to  the 
west  of  these  mountains,  in  the  valley  of  the  Seeds- 
ke-dee  Agie,  or  Green  River,  that  Captain  Bonne- 
ville  intended  to  make  a  halt,  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  repose  to  his  people  and  his  horses,  after 
their  weary  journeying  ;  and  of  collecting  infor- 
mation as  to  his  future  course.  This  Green  River 
Valley,  and  its  immediate  neighborhood,  as  we 
have  already  observed,  formed  the  main  point  of 
rendezvous,  for  the  present  year,  of  the  rival  fur 
companies,  and  the  motley  populace,  civilized  and 
savage,  connected  with  them.  Several  days  of 
rugged  travel,  however,  yet  remained  for  the  cap- 
tain and  his  men  before  they  should  encamp  in 
this  desired  resting-place. 

On  the  2ist  of  July,  as  they  were  pursuing  their 
course  through  one  of  the  meadows  of  the  Sweet 
Water,  they  beheld  a  horse  grazing  at  a  little  dis- 
tance. He  showed  no  alarm  at  their  approach, 
but  suffered  himself  quietly  to  be  taken,  evincing 
a  perfect  state  of  tameness.  The  scouts  of  the 
party  were  instantly  on  the  look-out  for  the  owners 
of  the  animal,  lest  some  dangerous  band  of  sav- 
ages might  be  lurking  in  the  vicinity.  After  a 
narrow  search,  they  discovered  the  trail  of  an  In- 
dian party,  which  had  evidently  passed  through 
that  neighborhood  but  recently.  The  horse  was 
accordingly  taken  possession  of,  as  an  estray  ;  but 
a  more  vigilant  watch  than  usual  was  kept  round 
the  camp  at  nights,  lest  his  former  owners  should 
be  upon  the  prowl. 

The  travellers  had  now  attained  so  high  an  ele- 
vation, that  on  the  23d  of  July,  at  daybreak,  there 
was  considerable  ice  in  the  water-buckets,  and  the 
thermometer  stood  at  twenty-two  degrees.  The 
rarity  of  the  atmosphere  continued  to  affect  the 
wood-work  of  the  wagons,  and  the  wheels  were 
incessantly  falli.ig  to  pieces.  A  remedy  was  at 
length  devised.  The  tire  of  each  wheel  was  taken 
off  ;  a  band  of  wood  was  nailed  round  the  exterior 
of  the  felloes,  the  tire  was  then  made  red  hot,  re- 
placed round  the  wheel,  and  suddenly  cooled  with 
water.  By  this  means,  the  whole  was  bound 
together  with  great  compactness. 

The  extreme  elevation  of  these  great  steppes, 
which  range  along  the  feet  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, takes  away  trorn  the  seeming  height  of  their 
peaks,  which  yield  to  few  in  the  known  world  in 
point  of  altitude  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

On  the  24th,  the  travellers  took  final  leave  of  the 
Sweet  Water,  and  keeping  westwardly,  over  a 
low  and  very  rocky  ridge  one  of  the  most  southern 
spurs  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  they_en- 


camped,  after  a  march  of  seven  hours  and  a  half, 
on  the  banks  of  a  small  clear  stream,  running  to 
the  south,  in  which  they  caught  a  number  of  fine 
trout. 

The  sight  of  these  fish  was  hailed  with  pleasure, 
as  a  sign  that  they  had  reached  the  waters  which 
flow  into  the  Pacific  ;  for  it  is  only  on  the  western 
streams  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  that  trout  are  to 
be  taken.  The  stream  on  which  they  had  thus 
encamped  proved,  in  effect,  to  be  tributary  to  the 
Seeds-ke-dee  Agie,  or  Green  River,  into  which  it 
flowed,  at  some  distance  to  the  south. 

Captain  Bonneville  now  considered  himself  as 
having  fairly  passed  the  crest  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains ;  and  felt  some  degree  of  exultation  in  being 
the  first  individual  that  had  crossed,  north  of  the 
settled  provinces  of  Mexico,  from  the  waters  of 
the  Atlantic  to  those  of  the  Pacific,  with  wagons. 
Mr.  William  Sublette,  the  enterprising  leader  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  had,  two  or 
three  years  previously,  reached  the  valley  of  the 
Wind  River,  which  lies  on  the  northeast  of  the 
mountains  ;  but  had  proceeded  with  them  no  fur- 
ther. 

A  vast  valley  now  spread  itself  before  the  travel- 
lers, bounded  on  one  side  by  the  Wind  River 
Mountains,  and  to  the  west  by  a  long  tange  of 
high  hills.  This,  Captain  Bonneville  was  assured 
by  a  veteran  hunter  in  his  company,  was  the  great 
valley  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee  ;  and  the  same  inform- 
ant would  have  fain  persuaded  him  that  a  small 
stream,  three  feet  deep,  which  he  carne  to  on  the 
25th,  was  that  river.  The  captain  was  convinced, 
however,  that  the  stream  was  too  insignificant  to 
drain  so  wide  a  valley  and  the  adjacent  moun- 
tains :  he  encamped,  therefore,  at  an  early  hour, 
on  its  borders,  that  he  might  take  the  whole  of 
the  next  day  to  reach  the  main  river;  which  he 
presumed  to  flow  between  him  and  the  distant 
range  of  western  hills. 

On  the  26th  of  July  he  commenced  his  march  at 
an  early  hour,  making  directly  across  the  valley, 
toward  the  hills  in  the  west  ;  proceeding  at  as 
brisk  a  rate  as  the  jaded  condition  of  his  horses 
would  permit.  About  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing a  great  cloud  of  dust  was  descried  in  the  rear, 
advancing  directly  on  the  trail  of  the  party.  The 
alarm  was  given  ;  they  all  came  to  a  halt,  and 
held  a  council  of  war.  Some  conjectured  that  the 
band  of  Indians,  whose  trail  they  had  discovered 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  stray  horse,  had  been 
lying  in  wait  for  them,  in  some  secret  fastness  of 
the  mountains  ;  and  were  about  to  attack  them  on 
the  open  plain,  where  they  would  have  no  shelter. 
Preparations  were  immediately  made  for  de- 
fence ;  and  a  scouting  party  sent  off  to  recon- 
noitre. They  soon  came  galloping  back,  making 
signals  that  all  was  well.  The  cloud  of  dust  was 
made  by  a  band  of  fifty  or  sixty  mounted  trap- 
pers, belonging  to  the  American  Fur  Company, 
who  soon  came  up,  leading  their  pack-horses. 
They  were  headed  by  Mr.  Fontenelle,  an  experi- 
enced leader,  or  "  partisan,"  as  a  chief  of  a  party 
is  called  in  the  technical  language  of  the  trappers. 

Mr.  Fontenelle  informed  Captain  Bonneville 
that  he  was  on  his  way  from  the  company's  trad- 
ing post  on  the  Yellowstone  to  the  yearly  rendez- 
vous, with  reinforcements  and  supplies  for  their 
hunting  and  trading  parties  beyond  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  that  he  expected  to  meet,  by  appoint- 
ment, with  a  band  of  free  trappers  in  that  very 
neighborhood.  He  had  fallen  upon  the  trail  of 
Captain  Bonneville's  party,  just  after  leaving  the 
Nebraska  ;  and,  finding  that  they  had  frightened 
off  all  the  game,  had  been  obliged  to  push  on,  by 


282 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


forced  marches,  to  avoid  famine  :  both  men  and 
horses  were,  therefore,  much  travel-worn  ;  but 
this  was  no  place  to  halt  ;  the  plain  before  them 
he  said,  was  destitute  of  grass  and  water,  neither 
of  which  would  be  met  with  short  of  the  Green 
River,  which  was  yet  at  a  considerable  distance. 
He  hoped,  he  added,  as  his  party  were  all  on 
horseback,  to  reach  the  river,  with  hard  travel- 
ling, by  nightfall  :  but  he  doubted  the  possibility 
of  Captain  Bonneville's  arrival  there  with  his 
wagons  before  the  day  following.  Having  im- 
parted this  information,  he  pushed  forward  with 
all  speed. 

Captain  Bonneville  followed  on  as  fast  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit.  The  ground  was  firm 
and  gravelly  ;  but  the  horses  were  too  much 
fatigued  to  move  rapidly.  After  a  long  and 
harassing  day's  march,  without  pausing  for  a 
noontide  meal,  they  were  compelled  at  nine 
o'clock  at  night  to  encamp  in  an  open  plain,  des- 
titute of  water  or  pasturage.  On  the  following 
morning,  the  horses  were  turned  loose  at  the  peep 
of  day,  to  slake  their  thirst,  if  possible,  from  the 
dew  collected  on  the  sparse  grass,  here  and  there 
springing  up  among  dry  sand-banks.  The  soil 
of  a  great  part  of  this  Green  River  valley  is  a 
whitish  clay,  into  which  the  rain  cannot  penetrate, 
but  which  dries  and  cracks  with  the  sun.  In  some 
places  it  produces  a  salt  weed,  and  grass  along 
the  margins  of  the  streams  ;  but  the  wider  ex- 
panses of  it  are  desolate  and  barren.  It  was  not 
until  noon  that  Captain  Bonneville  reached  the 
banks  of  the  Seeds-ke-dee,  or  Colorado  of  the 
West  ;  in  the  meantime,  the  sufferings  of  both 
men  and  horses  had  been  excessive,  and  it  was 
with  almost  frantic  eagerness  that  they  hurried  to 
allay  their  burning  thirst  in  the  limpid  current  of 
the  river. 

Fontenelle  and  his  party  had  not  fared  much 
better;  the  chief  part  had  managed  to  reach  the 
river  by  nightfall,  but  were  nearly  knocked  up  by 
the  exertion  ;  the  horses  of  others  sank  under 
them,  and  they  were  obliged  to  pass  the  night 
upon  the  road. 

On  the  following  morning,  July  2/th,  Fontenelle 
moved  his  camp  across  the  river,  while  Captain 
Bonneville  proceeded  some  little  distance  below, 
where  there  was  a  small  but  fresh  meadow,  yield- 
ing abundant  pasturage.  Here  the  poor  jaded 
horseswere  turned  out  to  graze,  and  take  their  rest : 
the  weary  journey  up  the  mountains  had  worn 
them  down  in  flesh  and  spirit  ;  but  this  last  march 
across  the  thirsty  plain  had  nearly  finished  them. 

The  captain  had  here  the  first  taste  of  the 
boasted  strategy  of  •  the  fur  trade.  During  his 
brief  but  social  encampment  in  company  with 
Fontenelle,  that  experienced  trapper  had  managed 
to  win  over  a  number  of  Delaware  Indians  whom 
the  captain  had  brought  with  him,  by  offering 
them  four  hundred  dollars  each,  for  the  ensuing 
autumnal  hunt.  The  captain  was  somewhat  as- 
tonished when  he  saw  these  hunters,  on  whose 
services  he  had  calculated  securely,  suddenly  pack 
up  their  traps,  and  go  over  to  the  rival  camp. 
That  he  might  in  some  measure,  however,  be  even 
with  his  competitor,  he  dispatched  two  scouts  to 
look  out  for  the  band  of  free  trappers  who  were  to 
meet  Fontenelle  in  this  neighborhood,  and  to  en- 
deavor to  bring  them  to  his  camp. 

As  it  would  be  necessary  to  remain  some  time 
in  this  neighborhood,  that  both  men  and  horses 
might  repose,  and  recruit  their  strength  ;  and  as 
it  was  a  region  full  of  danger,  Captain  Bonneville 
proceeded  to  fortify  his  camp  with  breastworks  of 
logs  and  pickets. 


These  precautions  were,  at  that  time,  peculiarly 
necessary  from  the  bands  of  Blackfeet  Indians 
which  were  roving  about  the  neighborhood. 
These  savages  are  the  most  dangerous  banditti  of 
the  mountains,  and  the  inveterate  foe  of  the  trap- 
pers. They  are  Ishmaelites  of  the  first  order  ; 
always  with  weapon  in  hand,  ready  for  action. 
The  young  braves  of  the  tribe,  who  are  destitute 
of  property,  go  to  war  for  booty  ;  to  gain  horses, 
and  acquire  the  means  of  setting  up  a  lodge,  sup- 
porting a  family,  and  entitling  themselves  to  a 
seat  in  the  public  councils.  The  veteran  warriors 
fight  merely  for  the  love  of  the  thing,  and  the  con- 
sequence which  success  gives  them  among  their 
people. 

They  are  capital  horsemen,  and  are  generally 
well  mounted  on  short,  stout  horses,  similar  to  the 
prairie  ponies  to  be  met  with  at  St.  Louis.  When 
on  a  war  party,  however,  they  go  on  foot,  to  en- 
able them  to  skulk  through  the  country  with 
greater  secrecy  ;  to  keep  in  thickets  and  ravines, 
and  use  more  adroit  subterfuges  and  stratagems. 
Their  mode  of  warfare  is  entirely  by  ambush,  sur- 
prise,and  sudden  assaults  in  the  night  time.  If  they 
succeed  in  causing  a  panic,  they  dash  forward  with 
headlong  fury  :  it  the  enemy  is  on  the  alert,  and 
shows  no  signs  of  fear,  they  become  wary  and  de- 
liberate in  their  movements. 

Some  of  them  are  armed  in  the  primitive  style, 
with  bows  and  arrows  ;  the  greater  part  have 
American  fusees,  made  after  the  fashion  of  those 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  These  they  pro- 
cure at  the  trading  post  of  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany, on  Marias  River,  where  they"  traffic  their 
peltries  for  arms,  ammunition,  clothing,  and 
trinkets.  They  are  extremely  fond  of  spirituous 
liquors  and  tobacco  ;  for  which  nuisances  they 
are  ready  to  exchange,  not  merely  their  guns  and 
horses,  but  even  their  wives  and  daughters.  As 
they  are  a  treacherous  race,  and  have  cherished  a 
lurking  hostility  to  the  whites  ever  since  one  of 
their  tribe  was  killed  by  Mr.  Lewis,  the  associate 
of  General  Clarke  in  his  exploring  expedition 
across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  American  Fur 
Company  is  obliged  constantly  to  keep  at  that 
post  a  garrison  of  sixty  or  seventy  men. 

Under  the  general  name  of  Blackfeet  are  com- 
prehended several  tribes  :  such  as  the  Surcies,  the 
Peagans,  the  Blood  Indians,  and  the  Gros  Ventres 
of  the  Prairies  :  who  roam  about  the  southern 
branches  of  the  Yellowstone  and  Missouri  Rivers, 
together  with  some  other  tribes  further  north. 

The  bands  infesting  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
and  the  country  adjacent,  at  the  time  of  which  we 
are  treating,  were  Gros  Ventres  of  the  Prairies, 
which  are  not  to  be  confounded  with  Gros  Ventres 
of  the  Missouri,  who  keep  about  the  lower  part 
of  that  river,  and  are  friendly  to  the  white  men. 

This  hostile  band  keeps  about  the  head  waters 
of  the  Missouri,  and  numbers  about  nine  hundred 
fighting  men.  Once  in  the  course  of  two  or  three 
years  they  abandon  their  usual  abodes,  and  make 
a  visit  to  the  Arapahoes  of  the  Arkansas.  Their 
route  lies  either  through  the  Crow  country,  and 
the  Black  Hills,  or  through  the  lands  of  the  Nez 
Perec's,  Flatheads,  Bannacks,  and  Shoshonies. 
As  they  enjoy  their  favorite  state  of  hostility  with 
all  these  tribes,  their  expeditions  are  prone  to  be 
conducted  in  the  most  lawless  and  predatory 
style  ;  nor  do  they  hesitate  to  extend  their 
maraudings  to  any  party  of  white  men  they  meet 
with  ;  following  their  trails  ;  hovering  about 
their  camps  ;  waylaying  and  dogging  the  cara- 
vans of  the  free  traders,  and  murdering  the  soli- 
tary trapper.  The  consequences  are  frequent  and 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


283 


desperate  fights  between  them  and  the  "  moun- 
taineers," in  the  wild  defiles  and  fastnesses  ot  the 
Rocky  Mountains. 

The  band  in  question  was,  at  this  time,  on  their 
way  homeward  from  one  of  their  customary  visits 
to  the  Arapahoes  ;  and  in  the  ensuing  chapter 
we  shall  treat  of  some  bloody  encounters  between 
them  and  the  trappers,  which  had  taken  place  just 
before  the  arrival  of  Captain  Bonneville  among 
the  mountains. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

SUBLETTE  AND  HIS  BAND  — ROBERT  CAMPBELL — 
MR.  WYETH  AND  A  BAND  OF  "  DOWN-EAST- 
ERS" — YANKEE  ENTERPRISE — FITZPATRICK — 
HIS  ADVENTURE  WITH  THE  BLACKFEET — A 
RENDEZVOUZ  OF  MOUNTAINEERS — THE  BATTLE 
OF  PIERRE'S  HOLE — AN  INDIAN  AMBUSCADE 
— SUBLETTE' S  RETURN. 

LEAVING  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  band  en- 
sconced within  their  fortified  camp  in  the  Green 
River  valley,  we  shall  step  back  and  accompany 
a  party  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  in 
its  progress,  with  supplies  rrom  St.  Louis,  to  the 
annual  rendezvous  at  Pierre's  Hole.  This  party 
consisted  of  sixty  men,  well  mounted,  and  con- 
ducting a  line  of  pack-horses.  They  were  com- 
manded by  Captain  William  Sublette,  a  partner 
in  the  company,  and  one  of  the  most  active,  in- 
trepid, and  renowned  leaders  in  this  half  military 
kind  of  service.  He  was  accompanied  by  his  as- 
sociate in  business,  and  tried  companion  in  dan- 
ger, Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  one  of  the  pioneers  of 
the  trade  beyond  the  mountains,  who  had  com- 
manded trapping  parties  there  in  times  of  the 
greatest  peril. 

As  these  worthy  compeers  were  on  their  route 
to  the  frontier,  they  fell  in  with  another  expedition, 
likewise  on  its  way  to  the  mountains.  This  was 
a  party  of  regular  "  down-easters,"  that  is  to 
say,  people  of  New  England  who, with  the  all-pene- 
trating and  all-pervading  spirit  of  their  race,  were 
now  pushing  their  way  into  a  new  field  of  enter- 
prise with  which  they  were  totally  unacquainted. 
The  party  had  been  fitted  out  and  was  maintained 
and  commanded  by  Mr.  Nathaniel  J.  Wyeth,  of 
Boston  *  This  gentleman  had  conceived  an  idea 
that  a  profitable  fishery  for  salmon  might  be  es- 
tablished on  the  Columbia  River,  and  connected 
with  the  fur  trade.  He  had,  accordingly,  invest- 
ed capital  in  goods,  calculated,  as  he  supposed, 
for  the  Indian  trade,  and  had  enlisted  a  number 
of  eastern  men  in  his  employ,  who  had  never  been 
in  the  Far  West,  nor  knew  anything  of  the  wilder- 
ness. With  these  he  was  bravely  steering  his 
way  across  the  continent,  undismayed  by  danger, 
difficulty,  or  distance,  in  the  same  way  that  a 
New  England  coaster  and  his  neighbors  will 
coolly  launch  forth  on  a  voyage  to  the  Black  Sea, 
or  a  whaling  cruise  to  the  Pacific. 

With  all  their  national  aptitude  at  expedient  and 
resource,  Wyeth  and  his  men  felt  themselves  com- 
pletely at  a  loss  when  they  reached  the  frontier, 
and  found  that  the  wilderness  required  experi- 
ence and  habitudes  of  which  they  were  totally 
deficient.  Not  one  of  the  party,  excepting  the 
leader,  had  ever  seen  an  Indian  or  handled  a  rifle  ; 


*  In  the  former  editions  of  this  work  we  have 
erroneously  given  this  enterprising  individual  the  title 
of  captain. 


they  were  without  guide  or  interpreter,  and  totally 
unacquainted  with  "wood  craft"  and  the  modes 
of  making  their  way  among  savage  hordes,  and 
subsisting  themselves  during  long  marches  over 
wild  mountains  and  barren  plains. 

In  this  predicament,  Captain  Sublette  found 
them,  in  a  manner  becalmed,  or  rather  run 
aground,  at  the  little  frontier  town  of  Indepen- 
dence, in  Missouri,  and  kindly  took  them  in  tow. 
The  two  parties  travelled  amicably  together  ;  the 
frontier  men  of  Sublette's  party  gave  their  Yankee 
comrades  some  lessons  in  hunting,  and  some  in- 
sight into  the  art  and  mystery  of  dealing  with  the 
Indians,  and  they  all  arrived  without  accident  at 
the  upper  branches  of  the  Nebraska  or  Platte 
River. 

In  the  course  of  their  march,  Mr.  Fitzpatrick, 
the  partner  of  the  company  who  was  resident  at 
that  time  beyond  the  mountains,  came  down  from 
the  rendezvous  at  Pierre's  Hole  to  meet  them  and 
hurry  them  forward.  He  travelled  in  company 
with  them  until  they  reached  the  Sweet  Water  ; 
then  taking  a  couple  of  horses,  one  for  the  saddle 
and  the  other  as  a  pack-horse,  he  started  off  ex- 
press for  Pierre's  Hole,  to  make  arrangements 
against  their  arrival,  that  he  might  commence  his 
hunting  campaign  before  the  rival  company. 

Fitzpatrick  was  a  hardy  and  experienced  moun- 
taineer, and  knew  all  the  passes  and  defiles.  As 
he  was  pursuing  his  lonely  course  up  the  Green 
River  valley,  he  descried  several  horsemen  at  a 
distance,  and  came  to  a  halt  to  reconnoitre.  He 
supposed  them  to  be  some  detachment  from  the 
rendezvous,  or  a  party  of  friendly  Indians.  They 
perceived  him,  and  setting  up  the  war-whoop, 
dashed  forward  at  full  speed;  he  saw  at  once  his 
mistake  and  his  peril — they  were  Blackfeet. 
Springing  upon  his  fleetest  horse,  and  abandoning 
the  other  to  the  enemy,  he  made  for  the  moun- 
tains, and  succeeded  in  escaping  up  one  of  the 
most  dangerous  defiles.  Here  he  concealed  him- 
self until  he  thought  the  Indians  had  gone  off, 
when  he  returned  into  the  valley.  He  was  again 
pursued,  lost  his  remaining  horse,  and  only  es- 
caped by  scrambling  up  among  the  cliffs.  For 
several  days  he  remained  lurking  among  rocks 
and  precipices,  and  almost  famished,  having  but 
one  remaining  charge  in  his  rifle,  which  he  kept 
for  self-defence. 

In  the  meantime,  Sublette  and  Campbell,  with 
their  fellow-traveller,  Wyeth,  had  pursued  their 
march  unmolested,  and  arrived  in  the  Green  River 
valley,  totally  unconscious  that  there  was  any 
lurking  enemy  at  hand.  They  had  encamped  one 
night  on  the  banks  of  a  small-stream,  which  came 
down  from  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  when 
about  midnight  a  band  of  Indians  burst  upon 
their  camp,  with  horrible  yells  and  whoops,  and 
a  discharge  of  guns  and  arrows.  Happily  no 
other  harm  was  done  than  wounding  one  mule, 
and  causing  several  horses  to  break  loose  from 
their  pickets.  The  camp  was  instantly  in  arms  ; 
but  the  Indians  retreated  with  yells  of  exultation, 
carrying  off  several  of  the  horses  under  covert  of 
the  night. 

This  was  somewhat  of  a  disagreeable  foretaste 
of  mountain  life  to  some  of  Wyeth's  band,  accus- 
tomed only  to  the  regular  and  peaceful  life  of  New 
England  ;  nor  was  it  altogether  to  the  taste  ot 
Captain  Sublette's  men,  who  were  chiefly  Creoles 
and  townsmen  from  St.  Louis.  They  continued 
their  march  the  next  morning,  keeping  scouts 
ahead  and  upon  their  flanks,  and  arrived  without 
further  molestation  at  Pierre's  Hole. 

The  first  inquiry  of  Captain  Sublette,  on  reach- 


284 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


ing  the  rendezvous,  was  for  Fitzpatrick.  He  had 
not  arrived,  nor  had  any  intelligence  been  received 
concerning  him.  Great  uneasiness  was  now  en- 
tertained, lest  he  should  have  {alien  into  the  hands 
of  the  Blackfeet  who  had  made  the  midnight  at- 
tack upon  the  camp.  It  was  a  matter  of  general 
joy,  therefore,  when  he  made  his  appearance,  con- 
ducted by  two  half-breed  Iroquois  hunters.  He 
had  lurked  for  several  days  among  the  mountains, 
until  almost  starved  ;  at  length  he  escaped  the 
vigilance  of  his  enemies  in  the  night,  and  was  so 
fortunate  as  to  meet  the  two  Iroquois  hunters 
who,  being  on  horseback,  conveyed  him  without 
further  difficulty  to  the  rendezvous.  He  arrived 
there  so  emaciated  that  he  could  scarcely  be 
recognized. 

The  valley  called  Pierre's  Hole  is  about  thirty- 
miles  in  length  and  fifteen  in  width,  bounded  to  the 
west  and  south  by  low  and  broken  ridges,  and  over- 
looked to  the  east  by  three  lofty  mountains  called 
the  three  Tetons,  which  domineer  as  landmarks 
over  a  vast  extent  of  country. 

A  fine  stream,  fed  by  rivulets  and  mountain 
springs,  pours  through  the  valley  toward  the 
north,  dividing  it  into  nearly  equal  parts.  The 
meadows  on  its  borders  are  broad  and  extensive, 
covered  with  willow  and  cottonwood  trees,  so 
closely  interlocked  and  matted  together  as  to  be 
nearly  impassable. 

In  this  valley  was  congregated  the  motley  popu- 
lace connected  with  the  fur  trade.  Here  the  two 
rival  companies  had  their  encampments,  with 
their  retainers  of  all  kinds  :  traders,  trappers, 
hunters,  and  half-breeds,  assembled  from  all  quar- 
ters, awaiting  their  yearly  supplies,  and  their 
orders  to  start  off  in  new  directions.  Here,  also, 
the  savage  tribes  connected  with  the  trade,  the 
Nez  Perce's  or  Chopunnish  Indians,  and  Flatheads, 
had  pitched  their  lodges  beside  the  streams,  and 
with  their  squaws,  awaited  the  distribution  of 
goods  and  finery.  There  was,  moreover,  a  band 
of  fifteen  free  trappers,  commanded  by  a  gallant 
leader  from  Arkansas,  named  Sinclair,  who  held 
their  encampment  a  little  apart  from  the  rest. 
Such  was  the  wild  and  heterogeneous  assem- 
blage, amounting  to  several  hundred  men,  civil- 
ized and  savage,  distributed  in  tents  and  lodges 
in  the  several  camps. 

The  arrival  of  Captain  Sublette  with  supplies  put 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  in  full  activity. 
The  wares  and  merchandise  were  quickly  opened, 
and  as  quickly  disposed  of  to  trappers  and  In- 
dians ;  the  usual  excitement  and  revelry  took 
place,  after  which  all  hands  began  to  disperse  tu 
their  several  destinations. 

On  the  1 7th  of  July,  a  small  brigade  of  fourteen 
trappers,  led  by  Milton  Sublette,  brother  of  the 
captain,  set  out  with  the  intention  of  proceeding 
to  the  southwest.  They  were  accompanied  by 
Sinclair  and  his  fifteen  free  trappers  ;  Wyeth,  also, 
and  his  New  England  band  of  beaver  hunters  and 
salmon  fishers,  now  dwindled  down  to  eleven, 
took  this  opportunity  to  prosecute  their  cruise  in 
the  wilderness,  accompanied  with  such  experi- 
enced pilots.  On  the  first  day  they  proceeded 
ibout  eight  miles  to  the  southeast,  and  encamped 
lor  the  night,  still  in  the  valley  of  Pierre's  Hole. 
On  the  following  morning,  just  as  they  were  rais- 
ing their  camp,  they  observed  a  long  line  of  peo- 
ple pouring  down  a  defile  of  the  mountains. 
They  at  first  supposed  them  to  be  Fontenelle  and 
his  party,  whose  arrival  had  been  daily  expected. 
Wyeth,  however,  reconnoitred  them  with  a  spy- 
glass, and  soon  perceived  they  were  Indians. 
They  were  divided  into  two  parties,  forming,  in 


the  whole,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  persons, 
men,  women,  and  children.  Some  were  on 
horseback,  fantastically  painted  and  arrayed,  with 
scarlet  blankets  fluttering  in  the  wind.  The  greater 
part,  however,  were  on  foot.  They  had  perceived 
the  trappers  before  they  were  themselves  dis- 
covered, and  came  down  yelling  and  whooping 
into  the  plain.  On  nearer  approach,  they  were 
ascertained  to  be  Blackfeet. 

One  of  the  trappers  of  Sublette's  brigade,  a 
half-breed,  named  Antoine  Godin,  now  mounted 
his  horse,  and  rode  forth  as  if  to  hold  a  confer- 
ence. He  was  the  son  of  an  Iroquois  hunter,  who 
had  been  cruelly  murdered  by  the  Blackfeet  at  a 
small  stream  below  the  mountains,  which  still 
bears  his  name.  In  company  with  Antoine  rode 
forth  a  Flathead  Indian,  whose  once  powerful 
tribe  had  been  completely  broken  down  in  their 
wars  with  the  Blackfeet.  Both  of  them,  therefore, 
cherished  the  most  vengeful  hostility  against  these 
marauders  of  the  mountains.  The  Blackfeet 
came  to  a  halt.  One  of  the  chiefs  advanced  singly 
and  unarmed,  bearing  the  pipe  of  peace.  This 
overture  was  certainly  pacific  ;  but  Antoine  and 
the  Flathead  were  predisposed  to  hostility,  and 
pretended  to  consider  it  a  treacherous  movement. 

"  Is  your  piece  charged  ?"  said  Antoine  to  his 
red  companion. 

"  It  is." 

"  Then  cock  it  and  follow  me." 

They  met  the  Blackfoot  chief  half-way,  who  ex- 
tended his  hand  in  friendship.  Antoine  grasped 
it. 

"  Fire  !"  cried  he. 

The  Flathead  levelled  his  piece,  and  brought 
the  Blackfoot  to  the  ground.  Antoine  snatched 
off  his  scarlet  blanket,  which  was  richly  orna- 
mented, and  galloped  off  with  it  as  atrophy  to  the 
camp,  the  bullets  of  the  enemy  whistling  after 
him.  The  Indians  immediately  threw  themselves 
into  the  edge  of  a  swamp,  among  willows  and 
cotton-wood  trees,  interwoven  with  vines.  Here 
they  began  to  fcfrtify  themselves  ;  the  women  dig- 
ging a  trench,  and  throwing  up  a  breastwork  of 
logs  and  branches,  deep  hid  in  the  bosom  of  the 
wood,  while  the  warriors  skirmished  at  the  edge 
to  keep  the  trappers  at  bay. 

The  latter  took  their  station  in  a  ravine  in  front, 
whence  they  kept  up  a  scattering  fire.  As  to 
Wyeth,  and  his  little  band  of  "  down-easters," 
they  were  perfectly  astounded  by  this  second 
specimen  of  life  in  the  wilderness  ;  the  men,  being 
especially  unused  to  bush-fighting  and  the  use  of 
the  rifle,  were  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed.  Wyeth, 
however,  acted  as  a  skilful  commander.  He  got 
all  his  horses  into  camp  and  secured  them  ;  then, 
making  a  breastwork  of  his  packs  of  goods,  he 
charged  his  men  to  remain  in  garrison,  and  not  to 
stir  out  of  their  fort.  For  himself,  he  mingled 
with  the  other  leaders,  determined  to  take  his 
share  in  the  conflict. 

In  the  meantime,  an  express  had  been  sent  off 
to  the  rendezvous  for  reinforcements.  Captain 
Sublette  and  his  associate,  Campbell,  were  at  their 
camp  when  the  express  came  galloping  across  the 
plain,  waving  his  cap,  and  giving  the  alarm  ; 
"  Blackfeet  !  Blackfeet  !  a  fight  in  the  upper  part 
of  the  valley  ! — to  arms  !  to  arms  !" 

The  alarm  was  passed  from  camp  to  camp.  It 
was  a  common  cause.  Everyone  turned  out  with 
horse  and  rifle.  The  Nez  Perce's  and  Flatheads 
joined.  As  fast  as  horseman  could  arm  and 
mount  he  galloped  off  ;  the  valley  was  soon  alive 
with  white  men  and  red  men  scouring  at  full 
speed. 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


285 


Sublette  ordered  his  men  to  keep  to  the  camp, 
being  recruits  iroin  St.  Louis,  and  unused  to  In- 
dian warfare.  He  and  his  friend  Campbell  pre- 
pared for  action.  Throwing  off  their  coats,  roll- 
ing up  their  sleeves,  and  arming  themselves  with 
pistols  and  rifles,  they  mounted  their  horses  and 
dashed  forward  among  the  first.  As  they  rode 
along,  they  made  their  wills  in  soldier-like  style  ; 
each  stating  how  his  effects  should  be  disposed  of 
in  case  of  his  death,  and  appointing  the  other  his 
executor. 

The  Blackfeet  warriors  had  supposed  the  brig- 
ade of  Milton  Sublette  all  the  foes  they  had  to  deal 
with,  and  were  astonished  to  behold  the  whole 
valley  suddenly  swarming  with  horsemen,  gallop- 
ing to  the  field  of  action.  They  withdrew  into 
their  fort,  which  was  completely  hid  from  sight  in 
the  dark  and  tangled  wood.  Most  of  their  women 
and  children  had  retreated  to  the  mountains. 
The  trappers  now  sallied  froth  and  approached 
the  swamp,  firing  into  the  thickets  at  random  ; 
the  Blackfeet  had  a  better  sight  at  their  adversa- 
ries, who  were  in  the  open  field,  and  a  half-breed 
was  wounded  in  the  shoulder. 

When  Captain  Sublette  arrived,  he  urged  to 
penetrate  the  swamp  and  storm  the  fort,  but  all 
hung  back  in  awe  of  the  dismal  horrors  of  the 
place,  and  the  danger  of  attacking  such  des- 
peradoes in  tneir  savage  den.  The  very  Indian 
allies,  though  accustomed  to  bush-fighting,  regard- 
ed it  as  almost  impenetrable,  and  full  of  frightful 
danger.  Sublette  was  not  to  be  turned  from  his 
purpose,  but  offered  to  lead  the  way  into  the 
swamp.  Campbell  stepped  forward  to  accompany 
him.  Before  entering  the  perilous  wood,  Sublette 
took  his  brothers  aside,  and  told  them  that  in  case 
he  fell,  Campbell,,  who  knew  his  will,  was  to  be 
his  executor.  This  done,  he  grasped  his  rifle  and 
pushed  into  the  thickets,  followed  by  Campbell. 
Sinclair,  the  partisan  from  Arkansas,  was  at  the 
edge  of  the  wood  with  his  brother  and  a  few  of 
his  men.  Excited  by  the  gallant  example  of  the 
two  friends,  he  pressed  forward  to  share  their 
dangers. 

The  swamp  was  produced  by  the  labors  of  the 
beaver,  which,  by  damming  up  a  stream,  had  in- 
undated a  portion  of  the  valley.  The  place  was 
all  overgrown  with  woods  and  thickets,  so  closely 
matted  and  entangled  that  it  was  impossible  to 
see  ten  paces  ahead,  and  the  three  associates  in 
peril  had  to  crawl  along  one  after  another,  mak- 
ing their  way  by  putting  the  branches  and  vines 
aside  ;  but  doing  it  with  caution,  lest  they  should 
attract  the  eye  of  some  lurking  marksman.  They 
took  the  lead  by  turns,  each  advancing  about 
twenty  yards  at  a  time,  and  now  and  then  halloo- 
ing to  their  men  to  follow.  Some  of  the  latter 
gradually  entered  the  swamp,  and  followed  a  lit- 
tle distance  in  their  rear. 

They  had  now  reached  a  more  open  part  of  the 
wood,  and  had  glimpses  of  the  rude  fortress  from 
between  the  trees.  It  was  a  mere  breastwork,  as 
we  have  said,  of  logs  and  branches,  with  blankets, 
buffalo  robes,  and  the  leathern  covers  of  lodges 
extended  round  the  top  as  a  screen.  The  move- 
ments of  the  leaders,  as  they  groped  their  way, 
had  been  descried  by  the  sharp-sighted  enemy. 
As  Sinclair,  who  was  in  the  advance,  was  putting 
some  branches  aside,  he  was  shot  through  the 
body.  He  fell  on  the  spot.  "  Take  me  to  my 
brother,"  said  he  to  Campbell.  The  latter  gave 
him  in  charge  to  some  of  the  men,  who  conveyed 
him  out  of  the  swamp. 

Sublette  now  took  the  advance.  As  he  was  re- 
connoitring the  fort,he  perceived  an  Indian  peeping 


through  an  aperture.  In  an  instant  his  rifle  was 
levelled  and  discharged, and  the  ball  struck  the  sav- 
age in  the  eye.  While  he  was  reloading,  he  called 
to  Campbell,  and  pointed  out  to  him  the  hole  ; 
"  Watch  that  place, "said  he,  "  and  you  will  soon 
have  a  fair  chance  fora  shot."  Scarce  had  he  ut- 
tered the  words,  when  a  ball  struck  him  in  the 
shoulder,  and  almost  wheeled  him  round.  His 
first  thought  was  to  take  hold  of  his  arm  with  his 
other  hand,  and  move  it  up  and  down.  He  ascer- 
tained, to  his  satisfaction,  that  the  bone  was  not 
broken.  The  next  moment  he  was  so  faint  that 
he  could  not  stand.  Campbell  took  him  in  his 
arms  and  carried  him  out  of  the  thicket.  The 
same  shot  that  struck  Sublette  wounded  another 
man  in  the  head. 

A  brisk  fire  was  now  opened  by  the  mountain- 
eers from  the  wood,  answered  occasionally  from 
the  fort.  Unluckily,  the  trappers  and  their  allies, 
in  searching  for  the  fort,  had  got  scattered  so  that 
Wyeth  and  a  number  of  Nez  Perces  approached 
the  fort  on  the  northwest  side,  while  others  did 
the  same  on  the  opposite  quarter.  A  cross-fire 
thus  took  place  which  occasionally  did  mischief 
to  friends  as  well  as  foes.  An  Indian  was  shot 
down,  close  to  Wyeth,  by  a  ball  which,  he  was 
convinced,  had  been  sped  from  the  rifle  of  a  trap- 
per on  the  other  side  of  the  fort. 

The  number  of  whites  and  their  Indian  allies 
had  by  this  time  so  much  increased  by  arrivals 
from  the  rendezvous,  that  the  Blackfeet  were  com- 
pletely overmatched.  They  kept  doggedly  in  their 
fort,  however,  making  no  offer  of  surrender.  An 
occasional  firing  into  the  breastwork  was  kept  up 
during  the  day.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  Indian 
allies,  in  bravado,  would  rush  up  to  the  fort,  fire 
over  the  ramparts,  tear  off  a  buffalo  robe  or  a 
scarlet  blanket,  and  return  with  it  in  triumph  to  his 
comrades.  Most  of  the  savage  garrison  that  fell, 
however,  were  kiled  in  the  first  part  of  the  attack. 

At  one  time  it  was  resolved  to  set  fire  to  the 
fort  ;  and  the  squaws  belonging  to  the  allies  were 
employed  to  collect  combustibles.  This,  how- 
ever, was  abandoned  ;  the  Nez  Perces  being  un- 
willing to  destroy  the  robes  and  blankets,  and 
other  spoils  of  the  enemy,  which  they  felt  sure 
would  fall  into  their  hands. 

The  Indians,  when  fighting,  are  prone  to  taunt 
and  revile  each  other.  During  one  of  the  pauses 
of  the  battle  the  voice  of  the  Blackfeet  chief  was 
heard. 

"So  long,"  said  he,  "as  we  had  powder  and 
ball,  we  fought  you  in  the  open  field  :  when  those 
were  spent,  we  retreated  here  to  die  with  our 
women  and  children.  You  may  burn  us  in  our 
fort  ;  but,  stay  by  our  ashes,  and  you  who  are  so 
hungry  for  fighting  will  soon  have  enough.  There 
are  four  hundred  lodges  of  our  brethren  at  hand- 
They  will  soon  be  here — their  arms  are  strong — 
their  hearts  are  big — they  will  avenge  us  !" 

This  speech  was  translated  two  or  three  times 
by  Nez  Perce  and  Creole  interpreters.  By  the 
time  it  was  rendered  into  English,  the  chief  was 
made  to  say  that  four  hundred  lodges  of  his  tribe 
were  attacking  the  encampment  at  the  other  end 
of  the  valley.  Everyone  now  was  for  hurrying  to 
the  defence  of  the  rendezvous.  A  party  was  left 
to  keep  watch  upon  the  fort  ;  the  rest  galloped  off 
to  the  camp.  As  night  came  on,  the  trappers  drew 
out  of  the  swamp,  and  remained  about  the  skirts  of 
the  wood.  By  morning,  their  companions  re- 
turned from  the  rendezvous,  with  the  report  that 
all  was  safe.  As  the  day  opened,  they  ventured 
within  the  swamp  and  approached  the  fort.  All 
was  silent.  They  advanced  up  to  it  without  op- 


280 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


position.  They  entered  :  it  had  been  abandoned 
in  the  night,  and  the  Blackfeet  had  effected  their 
retreat,  carrying  off  their  wounded  on  litters  made 
of  branches,  leaving-  bloody  traces  on  the  herb- 
age. The  bodies  of  ten  Indians  were  found  within 
the  fort  ;  among  them  the  one  shot  in  the  eye  by 
Sublette.  The  Blackteet  afterward  reported  that 
they  had  lost  twenty-six  warriors  in  this  battle. 
Thirty-two  horses  were  likewise  found  killed  ; 
among  them  were  some  of  those  recently  carried  off 
trom  Sublette's  party,  in  the  night  ;  which  showed 
that  these  were  the  very  savages  that  had  attack- 
ed him.  They  proved  to  be  an  advance  party  of 
the  main  body  of  Blackfeet,  which  had  been  upon 
the  trail  of  Sublette's  party.  Five  white  men  and 
one  half-breed  were  killed,  and  several  wounded. 
Seven  of  the  Nez  Perce"s  were  also  killed,  and  six 
wounded.  They  had  an  old  chief,  who  was  re- 
puted as  invulnerable.  In  the  course  of  the  action 
he  was  hit  by  a  spent  ball,  and  threw  up  blood  ; 
but  his  skin  was  unbroken.  His  people  were  now 
fully  convinced  that  he  was  proof  against  powder 
and  ball. 

A  striking  circumstance  is  related  as  having 
occurred  the  morning  after  the  battle.  As  some 
of  the  trappers  and  their  Indian  allies  were  ap- 
proaching the  fort,  through  the  woods,  they  beheld 
an  Indian  woman,  of  noble  form  and  features, 
leaning  against  a  tree.  Their  surprise  at  her  lin- 
gering here  alone,  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  her 
enemies,  was  dispelled,  when  they  saw  the  corpse 
of  a  warrior  at  her  feet.  Either  she  was  so  lost  in 
grief  as  not  to  perceive  their  approach  ;  or  a 
proud  spirit  kept  her  silent  and  motionless.  The 
Indians  set  up  a  yell,  on  discovering  her,  and  be- 
fore the  trappers  could  interfere,  her  mangled 
body  fell  upon  the  corpse  which  she  had  refused 
to  abandon.  We  have  heard  this  anecdote  dis- 
credited by  one  of  the  leaders  who  had  been  in 
the  battle  :  but  the  fact  may  have  taken  place 
without  his  seeing  it,  and  been  concealed  from 
him.  It  is  an  instance  of  female  devotion,  even  to 
the  death,  which  we  are  well  disposed  to  believe 
and  to  record. 

After  the  battle,  the  brigade  of  Milton  Sublette, 
together  with  the  free  trappers,  and  Wyeth's  New 
England  band,  remained  some  days  at  the  rendez- 
vous, to  see  it  the  main  body  of  Blackfeet  intend- 
ed to  make  an  attack  ;  nothing  of  the  kind  occur- 
ring, they  once  more  put  themselves  in  motion, 
and  proceeded  on  their  route  toward  the  south- 
west. 

Captain  Sublette  having  distributed  his  sup- 
plies, had  intended  to  set  off  on  his  return  to  St. 
Louis,  taking  with  him  the  peltries  collected  from 
the  trappers  and  Indians.  His  wound,  however, 
obliged  him  to  postpone  his  departure.  Several 
who  were  to  have  accompanied  him  became  im- 
patient of  this  delay.  Among  these  was  a  young 
Bostonian,  Mr.  Joseph  More,  one  of  the  followers 
of  Mr.  Wyeth,  who  had  seen  enough  of  mountain 
life  and  savage  warfare,  and  was  eager  to  return 
to  the  abodes  of  civilization.  He  and  six  others, 
among  whom  were  a  Mr.  Foy,  of  Mississippi,  Mr. 
Alfred  K.  Stephens,  of  St.  Louis,  and  two  grand- 
sons of  the  celebrated  Daniel  Boone,  set  out 
together,  in  advance  of  Sublette's  party,  thinking 
they  would  make  their  own  way  through  the 
mountains. 

It  was  just  five  days  after  the  battle  of  the 
swamp,  that  these  seven  companions  were  mak- 
ing their  way  through  Jackson's  Hole,  a  valley 
not  far  from  the  three  Tetons,  when,  as  they  were 
descending  a  hill,  a  party  of  Blackfeet  that  lay  in 
ambush  started  up  with  terrific  yells.  The  horse 


of  the  young  Bostonian,  who  was  in  front,  wheeled 
round  with  affright,  and  threw  his  unskilful  rider. 
The  young  man  scrambled  up  the  side  of  the  hill, 
but,  unaccustomed  to  such  wild  scenes,  lost  his 
presence  of  mind,  and  stood,  as  if  paralyzed,  on 
the  edge  ot  a  bank,  until  the  Blackfeet  came  up  and 
slew  him  on  the  spot.  His  comrades  had  fled  on 
the  first  alarm  ;  but  two  of  them,  Foy  and 
Stephens,  seeing  his  danger  paused  when  they 
got  half-away  up  the  hill,  turned  back,  dismount- 
ed, and  hastened  to  his  assistance.  Foy  was  in- 
stantly killed.  Stephens  was  severely  wounded, 
but  escaped  to  die  five  days  afterward.  The  sur- 
vivors returned  to  the  camp  of  Captain  Sublette, 
bringing  tidings  of  this  new  disaster.  That  hardy 
leader,  as  soon  as  he  could  bear  the  journey,  set 
out  on  his  return  to  St.  Louis,  accompanied  by 
Campbell.  As  they  had  a  number  of  pack-horses 
richly  laden  with  peltries  to  convoy,  they  chose  a 
different  route  through  the  mountains,  out  of  the 
way,  as  they  hoped,  of  the  lurking  lands  of  Black- 
feet.  They  succeeded  in  making  the  frontier  in 
safety.  We  remember  to  have  seen  them  with 
their  band,  about  two  or  three  months  afterward, 
passing  through  a  skirt  of  woodland  in  the  upper 
part  of  Missouri.  Their  long  cavalcade  stretched 
in  single  file  for  nearly  half  a  mile.  Sublette  still 
wore  his  arm  in  a  sling.  The  mountaineers  in 
their  rude  hunting  dresses,  armed  with  rifles  and 
roughly  mounted,  and  leading  their  pack-horses 
down  a  hill  of  the  forest,  looked  like  banditti  re- 
turning with  plunder.  On  the  top  of  some  of  the 
packs  were  perched  several  half-breed  children, 
perfect  little  imps,  with  wild  black  eyes  glaring 
from  among  elf  locks.  These,  I  was  told,  were 
children  of  the  trappers  ;  pledges  of  love  from 
their  squaw  spouses  in  the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

RETREAT  OF  THE  BLACKFEET— FONTENELLE'S 
CAMP  IN  DANGER — CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  AND 
THE  BLACKFEET— FREE  TRAPPERS — THEIR 
CHARACTER,  HABITS,  DRESS,  EQUIPMENTS, 
HORSES — GAME  FELLOWS  OF  THE  MOINTAINS 
— THEIR  VISIT  TO  THE  CAMP — GOOD  FELLOW- 
SHIP AND  GOOD  CHEER  —  A  CAROUSE  —  A 
SWAGGER,  A  BRAWL,  AND  A  RECONCILIATION. 

THE  Blackfeet  warriors,  when  they  effected 
their  midnight  retreat  from  their  wild  fastness  in 
Pierre's  Hole,  fell  back  into  the  valley  of  the 
Seeds-ke-dee,  or  Green  River,  where  they  joined 
the  main  body  of  their  band.  The  whole  force 
amounted  to  several  hundred  fighting  men, 
gloomy  and  exasperated  by  their  late  disaster. 
They  had  with  them  their  wives  and  children, 
which  incapacitated  them  from  any  bold  and  ex- 
tensive enterprise  of  a  warlike  nature  ;  but  when, 
in  the  course  of  their  wanderings,  they  came  in 
sight  of  the  encampment  of  Fontenelle,  who  had 
moved  some  distance  up  Green  River  valley  in 
search  of  the  free  trappers,  they  put  up  tremen- 
dous war-cries,  and  advanced  fiercely  as  if  to  at- 
tack it.  Second  thoughts  caused  them  to  moder- 
ate their  fury.  They  recollected  the  severe  lesson 
just  received,  and  could  not  but  remark  the 
strength  of  Fontenelle's  position  ;  which  had  been 
chosen  with  great  judgment.  A  formal  talk  en- 
sued. The  Blackfeet  said  nothing  of  the  late  bat- 
tle, of  which  Fontenelle  had  as  yet  received  no 
accounts  ;  the  latter,  however,  knew  the  hostile 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


287 


and  perfidious  nature  of  these  savages,  and  took 
care  to  inform  them  of  the  encampment  of  Captain 
Bonneville,  that  they  might  know  there  were  more 
white  men  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  conference  ended,  Fontenelle  sent  a  Dela- 
ware Indian  of  his  party  to  conduct  fifteen  of  the 
Blackfeet  to  the  camp  of  Captain  Bonneville. 
There  were  at  that  time  two  Crow  Indians  in  the 
captain's  camp  who  had  recently  arrived  there. 
They  looked  with  dismay  upon  this  deputation 
from  their  implacable  enemies,  and  gave  the  cap- 
tain a  terrible  character  of  them,  assuring  him 
that  the  best  thing  he  could  possibly  do  was  to  put 
those  Blackfeet  deputies  to  death  on  the  spot.  The 
captain,  however,  who  had  heard  nothing  of  the 
conflict  at  Pierre's  Hole,  declined  all  compliance 
with  this  sage  counsel.  He  treated  the  grim  war- 
riors with  his  usual  urbanity.  They  passed  some 
little  time  at  the  camp  ;  saw,  no  doubt,  that  every- 
thing was  conducted  with  military  skill  and  vigil- 
ance ;  and  that  such  an  enemy  was  not  to  be 
easily  surprised,  nor  to  be  molested  with  impunity, 
and  then  departed,  to  report  all  that  they  had 
seen  to  their  comrades. 

The  two  scouts  which  Captain  Bonneville  had 
sent  out  to  seek  for  the  band  of  free  trappers,  ex- 
pected by  Fontenelle,  and  to  invite  them  to  his 
camp,  had  been  successful  in  their  search,  and  on 
the  1 2th  of  August  those  worthies  made  their 
appearance. 

To  explain  the  meaning  of  the  appellation  free 
trapper  it  is  necessary  to  state  the  terms  on 
which  the  men  enlist  in  the  service  of  the  fur  com- 
panies. Some  have  regular  wages  and  are  fur- 
nished with  weapons,  horses,  traps,  and  other 
requisites.  These  are  under  command,  and  bound 
to  do  every  duty  reouired  of  them  connected  with 
the  service  ;  such  as  hunting,  trapping,  loading 
and  unloading  the  horses,  mounting  guard  ;  and, 
in  short,  all  the  drudgery  of  the  camp.  These 
are  the  hired  trappers. 

The  free  trappers  are  a  more  independent 
class  ;  and  in  describing  them  we  shall  do  little 
more  than  transcribe  the  graphic  description  of 
them  by  Captain  Bonneville.  "  They  come  and 
go,"  says  he,  "when  and  where  they  please  ; 
provide  their  own  horses,  arms,  and  other  equip- 
ments ;  trap  and  trade  on  their  own  account,  and 
dispose  of  their  skins  and  peltries  to  the  highest 
bidder.  Sometimes,  in  a  dangerous  hunting 
ground,  they  attach  themselves  to  the  camp  of 
some  trader  for  protection.  Here  they  come 
under  some  restrictions  ;  they  have  to  conform  to 
the  ordinary  rules  for  trapping,  and  to  submit  to 
such  restraints  and  to  take  part  in  such  general 
duties  as  are  established  for  the  good  order  and 
safety  of  the  camp.  In  return  for  this  protection, 
and  for  their  camp  keeping,  they  are  bound  to 
dispose  of  all  the  beaver  they  take  to  the  trader 
who  commands  the  camp,  at  a  certain  rate  per 
skin  ;  or,  should  they  prefer  seeking  a  market 
elsewhere,  they  are  to  make  him  an  allowance  of 
from  thirty  to  forty  dollars  for  the  whole  hunt." 

There  is  an  inferior  order  who,  either  from 
prudence  or  poverty,  come  to  these  dangerous 
hunting  grounds  without  horses  or  accoutrements, 
and  are  furnished  by  the  traders.  These,  like  the 
hired  trappers,  are  bound  to  exert  themselves  to 
the  utmost  in  taking  beaver,  which,  without  skin- 
ning, they  render  in  at  the  trader's  lodge,  where 
the  stipulated  price  for  each  is  placed  to  their 
credit.  These,  though  generally  included  in  the 
generic  name  of  free  trappers,  have  the  more  spe- 
cific title  of  skin  trappers. 

The  wandering  whites  who    mingle    for  any 


length  of  time  with  the  savages  have  invariably  a 
proneness  to  adopt  savage  habitudes  ;  but  none 
more  so  than  the  free  trappers.  It  is  a  matter  of 
vanity  and  ambition  with  them  to  discard  every- 
thing that  may  bear  the  stamp  of  civilized  life,  and 
to  adopt  the  manners,  habits,  dress,  gesture,  and 
even  walk  of  the  Indian.  You  cannot  pay  a  free 
trapper  a  greater  compliment  than  to  persuade 
him  you  have  mistaken  him  for  an  Indian  brave  ; 
and  in  truth  the  counterfeit  is  complete.  His 
hair,  suffered  to  attain  to  a  great  length,  is  care- 
fully combed  out,  and  either  lett  to  fall  carelessly 
over  his  shoulders,  or  plaited  neatly  and  tied  up 
in  otter  skins  of  parti-colored  ribbons.  A  hunt- 
ing-shirt of  ruffled  calico  of  bright  dyes,  or  of 
ornamented  leather,  falls  to  his  knee  :  below 
which,  curiously  fashioned  leggins,  ornamented 
with  strings,  fringes,  and  a  profusion  of  hawks' 
bells,  reach  to  a  costly  pair  ol  moccasins  of  the 
finest  Indian  fabric,  richly  embroidered  with 
beads.  A  blanket  of  scarlet,  or  some  other  bright 
color,  hangs  from  his  shoulders,  and  is  girt  round 
his  waist  with  a  red  sash,  in  which  he  bestows  his 
pistols,  knife,  and  the  stem  of  his  Indian  pipe  ; 
preparations  either  for  peace  or  war.  His  gun  is 
lavishly  decorated  with  brass  tacks  and  vermilion, 
and  provided  with  a  fringed  cover,  occasionally  of 
buckskin,  ornamented  here  and  there  with  a 
feather.  His  horse,  the  noble  minister  to  the 
pride,  pleasure,  and  profit  of  the  mountaineer,  is 
selected  for  his  speed  and  spirit  and  prancing 
gait,  and  holds  a  place  in  his  estimation  second 
only  to  himself.  He  shares  largely  of  his  bounty, 
and  of  his  pride  and  pomp  of  trapping.  He  is  ca- 
parisoned in  the  most  dashing  and  fantastic  style  ; 
the  bridles  and  crupper  are  weightily  embossed 
with  beads  and  cockades  ;  and  head,  mane  and 
tail  are  interwoven  with  abundance  of  eagles' 
plumes  which  flutter  in  the  wind.  To  complete 
this  grotesque  equipment,  the  proud  animal  is  be- 
streaked  and  bespotted  with  vermilion,  or  with 
white  clay,  whichever  presents  the  most  glaring 
contrast  to  his  real  color. 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  Captain  Bonneville 
of  these  rangers  of  the  wilderness,  and  their  ap- 
pearance at  the  camp  was  strikingly  characteristic. 
They  came  dashing  forward  at  full  speed,  firing 
their  fusees  and  yelling  in  Indian  style.  Their 
dark  sunburned  faces,  and  long  flowing  hair,  their 
leggins,  flags,  moccasins,  and  richly-dyed  blan- 
kets, and  their  painted  horses  gaudily  caparisoned, 
gave  them  so  much  the  air  and  appearance  of  In- 
dians that  it  was  difficult  to  persuade  one's  self 
that  they  were  white  men,  and  had  been  brought 
up  in  civilized  life. 

Captain  Bonneville,  who  was  delighted  with  the 
game  look  of  these  cavaliers  of  the  mountains,  wel- 
comed them  heartily  to  his  camp,  and  ordered  a 
free  allowance  of  grog  to  regale  them,  which  soon 
put  them  in  the  most  braggart  spirits.  They  pro- 
nounced the  captain  the  finest  fellow  in  the  world, 
and  his  men  all  bans  garfons,  jovial  lads,  and 
swore  they  would  pass  the  day  with  them.  They 
did  so  ;  and  a  day  it  was,  of  boast,  and  swagger, 
and  rodomontade.  The  prime  bullies  and  braves 
among  the  free  trappers  had  each  his  circle  of 
novices,  from  among  the  captain's  band  ;  mere 
greenhorns,  men  unused  to  Indian  life  ;  man- 
geurs  de  lard,  or  pork-eaters  ;  as  such  new-comers 
are  superciliously  called  by  the  veterans  of  the 
wilderness.  These  he  would  astonish  and  delight 
by  the  hour,  with  prodigious  tales  of  his  doings 
among  the  Indians  ;  and  of  the  wonders  he  had 
seen,  and  the  wonders  he  had  pertormed,  in  his 
adventurous  peregrinations  among  the  mountains. 


288 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


In  the  evening,  the  free  trappers  drew  off,  and 
returned  to  the  camp  of  Fontenelle,  highly  de- 
lighted with  their  visit,  and  with  their  new  ac- 
quaintances, and  promising  to  return  the  follow- 
ing day.  They  kept  their  word  .  day  atter  day 
their  visits  were  repeated  ;  they  became  "  hail  fel- 
low well  met"  with  Captain  Bonneville's  men  ; 
treat  atter  treat  succeeded,  until  both  parties  got 
most  potently  convinced,  or  rather  confounded, 
by  liquor.  Now  came  on  confusion  and  uproar. 
The  free  trappers  were  no  longer  suffered  to  have 
all  the  swagger  to  themselves.  The  camp  bullies 
and  prime  trappers  of  the  party  began  to  ruffle 
up  and  to  brag,  in  turn,  of  their  perils  and 
achievements.  Each  now  tried  to  out-boast  and 
out-talk  the  other  ;  a  quarrel  ensued  as  a  matter 
of  course,  and  a  general  fight,  according  to  Iron- 
tier  usage.  The  two  factions  drew  out  their  forces 
for  a  pitched  battle.  They  fell  to  work  and  be- 
labored each  other  with  might  and  main  ;  kicks 
and  cuffs  and  dry  blows  were  as  well  bestowed  as 
they  were  well  merited,  until,  having  fought  to 
their  hearts'  content,  and  been  drubbed  into  a 
familiar  acquaintance  with  each  other's  prowess 
and  good  qualities,  they  ended  the  fight  by  be- 
coming firmer  friends  than  they  could  have  been 
rendered  by  a  year's  peaceable  companionship. 

While  Captain  Bonneville  amused  himself  by 
observing  the  habits  and  characteristics  of  this 
singular  class  of  men,  and  indulged  them,  for  the 
time,  in  all  their  vagaries,  he  profited  by  the  op- 
portunity to  collect  from  them  information  con- 
cerning the  different  parts  of  the  country  about 
which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  range  ;  the 
characters  of  the  tribes,  and,  in  short,  everything 
important  to  his  enterprise.  He  also  succeeded 
in  securing  the  services  of  several  to  guide  and 
aid  him  in  his  peregrinations  among  the  moun- 
tains, and  to  trap  for  him  during  the  ensuing  sea- 
son. Having  strengthened  his  party  with  such 
valuable  recruits,  he  felt  in  some  measure  consoled 
for  the  loss  of  the  Delaware  Indians,  decoyed  from 
him  by  Mr.  Fontenelle. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

PLANS  FOR  THE  WINTER  —  SALMON  RIVER  — 
ABUNDANCE  OF  SALMON  WEST  OF  THE  MOUN- 
TAINS —  NEW  ARRANGEMENTS  —  CACHES — 
CERRE'S  DETACHMENT — MOVEMENTS  IN  FON- 
TENELLE'S  CAMP — DEPARTURE  OF  THE  BLACK- 
FEET —  THEIR  FORTUNES  —  WIND  MOUNTAIN 
STREAMS — BUCKEYE,  THE  DELAWARE  HUNTER, 
AND  THE  GRIZZLY  BEAR  —  BONES  OF  MUR- 
DERED TRAVELLERS— VISIT  TO  PIERRE'S  HOLE 
— TRACES  OF  THE  BATTLE — NEZ  PERCE  INDIANS 
— ARRIVAL  AT  SALMON  RIVER. 

THE  information  derived  from  the  free  trappers 
determined  Captain  Bonneville  as  to  his  further 
movements.  He  learned  that  in  the  Green  River 
valley  the  winters  were  severe,  the  snow  frequent- 
ly falling  to  the  depth  of  several  feet ;  and  that 
there  was  no  good  wintering  ground  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  upper  part  of  Salmon  River  was 
represented  as  far  more  eligible,  besides  being  in 
an  excellent  beaver  country  ;  and  thither  the  cap- 
tain resolved  to  bend  his  course. 

The  Salmon  River  is  one  of  the  upper  branches 
of  the  Oregon  or  Columbia  ;  and  takes  its  rise 
from  various  sources,  among  a  group  of  moun- 
tains to  the  northwest  of  the  Wind  River  chain. 


It  owes  its  name  to  the  immense  shoals  of  salmon 
which  ascend  it  in  the  months  of  September  and 
October.  The  salmon  on  the  west  side  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  are,  like  the  buffalo  on  the  east- 
ern plains,  vast  migratory  supplies  for  the  wants 
of  man,  that  come  and  go  with  the  seasons.  As 
the  buffalo  in  countless  throngs  find  their  certain 
way  in  the  transient  pasturage  on  the  prairies, 
along  the  fresh  banks  of  the  rivers,  and  up  every 
valley  and  green  defile  of  the  mountains,  so  the 
salmon,  at  their  allotted  seasons,  regulated  by  a 
sublime  and  all-seeing  Providence,  swarm  in 
myriads  up  the  great  rivers,  and  find  their  way  up 
their  main  branches,  and  into  the  minutest  tribu- 
tary streams  ;  so  as  to  pervade  the  great  arid 
plains,  and  to  penetrate  even  among  barren 
mountains.  Thus  wandering  tribes  are  fed  in  the 
desert  places  of  the  wilderness,  where  there  is  no 
herbage  for  the  animals  of  the  chase,  and  where, 
but  for  these  periodical  supplies,  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  man  to  subsist. 

The  rapid  currents  of  the  rivers  which  run  into 
the  Pacific  render  the  ascent  of  them  very  ex- 
hausting to  the  salmon.  When  the  fish  run  first 
up  the  rivers,  they  are  fat  and  in  fine  order.  The 
struggle  against  impetuous  streams  and  frequent 
rapids  gradually  renders  them  thin  and  weak,  and 
great  numbers  are  seen  floating  down  the  rivers 
on  their  backs.  As  the  season  advances  and  the 
water  becomes  chilled,  they  are  flung  in  myriads 
on  the  shores,  where  the  wolves  and  bears  assem- 
ble to  banquet  on  them.  Often  they  rot  in  such 
quantities  along  the  river  banks,  as  to  taint  the 
atmosphere.  They  are  commonly  from  two  to  three 
feet  long. 

Captain  Bonneville  now  made  his  arrangement 
for  the  autumn  and  the  winter.  The  nature  of  th 
country  through  which  he  was  about  to  travel  ren- 
dered it  impossible  to  proceed  with  wagons.  He 
had  more  goods  and  supplies  of  various  kinds, 
also,  than  were  required  for  present  purposes,  or 
than  could  be  conveniently  transported  on  horse- 
back ;  aided,  therefore,  by  a  few  confidential  men, 
he  made  caches,  or  secret  pits,  during  the  night, 
when  all  the  rest  of  the  camp  were  asleep,  and  in 
these  deposited  the  superfluous  effects,  together 
with  the  wagons.  All  traces  of  the  caches  were 
then  carefully  obliterated.  This  is  a  common  ex- 
pedient with  the  traders  and  trappers  of  the  moun- 
tains. Having  no  established  posts  and  maga- 
zines, they  make  these  caches  or  deposits  at  cer- 
tain points,  whither  they  repair  occasionally,  for 
supplies.  It  is  an  expedient  derived  from  the 
wandering  tribes  of  Indians. 

Many  of  the  horses  were  still  so  weak  and  lame 
as  to  be  unfit  for  a  long  scramble  through  the 
mountains.  These  were  collected  into  one  caval- 
cade, and  given  in  charge  to  an  experienced  trap- 
per, of  the  name  of  Matthieu.  He  wa<s  to  proceed 
westward,  with  a  brigade  of  trappers,  to  Bear 
River  ;  a  stream  to  the  west  of  the  Green  River  or 
Colorado,  where  there  was  good  pasturage  for  the 
horses.  In  this  neighborhood  it  was  expected  he 
would  meet  the  Shoshonie  villages  or  bands,*  on 
their  yearly  migrations,  with  whom  he  was  to 
trade  for  peltries  and  provisions.  After  he  had 
traded  with  these  people,  finished  his  trapping, 


n 

! 


*  A  village  of  Indians,  in  trappers'  language,  does 
not  always  imply  a  fixed  community  ;  but  often  a 
wandering  horde  or  band.  The  Shoshonies,  like  most 
of  the  mountain  tribes,  have  no  settled  residences  ; 
but  are  a  nomadic  people,  dwelling  in  tents  or  lodges, 
and  shifting  their  encampments  from  place  to  place, 
according  as  fish  and  game  abound. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


289 


and  recruited  the  strength  of  the  horses,  he  was 
to  proceed  to  Salmon  River,  and  rejoin  Captain 
Bonneville,  who  intended  to  fix  his  quarters  there 
[or  the  winter. 

While  these  arrangements  were  in  progress  in 
the  camp  of  Captain  Bonneville,  there  was  a  sud- 
den bustle  and  stir  in  the  camp  of  Fontenelle. 
One  of  the  partners  of  the  American  Fur  Com- 
pany had  arrived,  in  all  haste,  from  the  rendezvous 
at  Pierre's  Hole,  in  quest  of  the  supplies.  The 
competition  between  the  two  rival  companies  was 
just  now  at  its  height,  and  prosecuted  with  un- 
usual zeal.  The  tramontane  concerns  of  the 
Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  were  managed  by 
two  resident  partners,  Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger  ; 
those  of  the  American  Fur  Company,  by  Van- 
derburgh  and  Dripps.  The  latter  were  ignorant 
of  the  mountain  regions,  but  trusted  to  make  up 
by  vigilance  and  activity  for  their  want  of  knowl- 
edge of  the  country. 

Fitzpatrick,  an  experienced  trader  and  trapper, 
knew  the  evils  of  competition  in  the  same  hunting 
grounds,  and  had  proposed  that  the  two  companies 
should  divide  the  country,  so  as  to  hunt  in  different 
directions  :  this  proposition  being  rejected,  he  had 
exerted  himself  to  get  first  into  the  field.  His  exer- 
tions, as  have  already  been  shown,  were  effectual. 
The  early  arrival  of  Sublette.with  supplies,  had  en- 
abled the  various  brigades  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Company  to  start  off  to  their  respective  hunting 

S rounds.  Fitzpatrick  himself,  with  his  associate, 
ridger,  had  pushed  off  with  a  strong  party  of 
trappers,  for  a  prime  beaver  country  to  the  north- 
northwest. 

This  had  put  Vanderburgh  upon  his  mettle. 
He  had  hastened  on  to  meet  Fontenelle.  Finding 
him  at  his  camp  in  Green  River  valley,  he  imme- 
diately furnished  himself  with  the  supplies  ;  put 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  free  trappers  and  Dela- 
wares,  and  set  off  with  all  speed,  determined  to 
follow  hard  upon  the  heels  of  Fitzpatrick  and 
Bridger.  Of  the  adventures  of  these  parties 
among  the  mountains,  and  the  disastrous  effects 
of  their  competition,  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
treat  in  a  future  chapter. 

Fontenelle,  having  now  delivered  his  supplies 
and  accomplished  his  errand,  struck  his  tents  and 
set  off  on  his  return  to  the  Yellowstone.  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  band,  therefore,  remained 
alone  in  the  Green  River  valley  ;  and  their  situa- 
tion might  have  been  perilous,  had  the  Blackfeet 
band  still  lingered  in  the  vicinity.  Those  maraud- 
ers, however,  had  been  dismayed  at  finding  so 
many  resolute  and  well-appointed  parties  of  white 
men  in  this  neighborhood.  They  had,  therefore, 
abandoned  this  part  of  the  country,  passing  over 
the  head-waters  of  the  Green  River,  and  bending 
their  course  toward  the  Yellowstone.  Misfortune 
pursued  them.  Their  route  lay  through  the  coun- 
try of  their  deadly  enemies,  the  Crows.  In  the 
Wind  River  valley,  which  lies  east  of  the  moun- 
tains, they  were  encountered  by  a  powerful  war 
party  of  that  tribe,  and  completely  put  to  rout. 
Forty  of  them  were  killed,  many  of  their  women 
and  children  captured,  and  the  scattered  fugitives 
hunted  like  wild  beasts,  until  they  were  complete- 
ly chased  out  of  the  Crow  country. 

On  the  22d  of  August  Captain  Bonneville  broke 
up  his  camp,  and  set  out  on  his  route  for  Salmon 
River.  His  baggage  was  arranged  in  packs, 
three  to  a  mule,  or  pack-horse  ;  one  being  dis- 
posed on  each  side  of  the  animal,  and  one  on 
the  top  ;  the  three  forming  a  load  of  from  one 
hundred  and  eighty  to  two  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds.  This  is  the  trappers'  style  of  loading 


their  pack-horses.  His  men,  however,  were  inex- 
pert at  adjusting  the  packs,  which  were  prone  to 
get  loose  and  slip  off,  so  that  it  was  necessary  to 
keep  a  rear-guard  to  assist  in  reloading.  A  few 
days'  experience,  however,  brought  them  into 
proper  training. 

Their  march  lay  up  the  valley  of  the  Seeds-ke- 
dee,  overlooked  to  the  right  by  the  lofty  peaks  of 
the  Wind  River  Mountains.  From  bright  little 
lakes  and  fountain-heads  of  this  remarkable  bed 
of  mountains  poured  forth  the  tributary  streams 
of  the  Seeds-ke-dee.  Some  came  rushing  down 
gullies  and  ravines  ;  others  tumbling  in  crystal 
cascades  from  inaccessible  clefts  and  rocks,  and 
others  winding  their  way  in  rapid  and  pellucid 
currents  across  the  valley,  to  throw  themselves 
into  the  main  river.  So  transparent  were  these 
waters  that  the  trout  with  which  they  abounded 
could  be  seen  gliding  about  as  if  in  the  air  ;  and 
their  pebbly  beds  were  distinctly  visible  at  the 
depth  of  many  feet.  This  beautiful  and  dia- 
phanous quality  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  streams 
prevails  for  a  long  time  alter  they  have  mingled 
their  waters  and  swollen  into  important  rivers. 

Issuing  from  the  upper  part  of  the  valley,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  continued  to  the  east-northeast, 
across  rough  and  lofty  ridges,  and  deep  rocky  de- 
files, extremely  fatiguing  both  to  man  and  horse. 
Among  his  hunters  was  a  Delaware  Indian  who 
had  remained  faithful  to  him.  His  name  was 
Buckeye.  He  had  often  prided  himself  on  his 
skill  and  success  in  coping  with  the  grizzly  bear, 
that  terror  of  the  hunters.  Though  crippled  in 
the  left  arm,  he  declared  he  had  no  hesitation  to 
close  with  a  wounded  bear,  and  attack  him 
with  a  sword.  If  armed  with  a  rifle,  he  was  will- 
ing to  brave  the  animal  when  in  full  force  and 
fury.  He  had  twice  an  opportunity'of  proving  his 
prowess,  in  the  course  of  this  mountain  journey, 
and  was  each  time  successful.  His  mode  was  to 
seat  himself  upon  the  ground,  with  his  rifle 
cocked  and  resting  on  his  lame  arm.  Thus  pre- 
pared, he  would  await  the  approach  of  the  bear 
with  perfect  coolness,  nor  pull  trigger  until  he  was 
close  at  hand.  In  each  instance,  he  laid  the  mon- 
ster dead  upon  the  spot. 

A  march  of  three  or  four  days,  through  savage 
and  lonely  scenes,  brought  Captain  Bonneville  to 
the  fatal  defile  of  Jackson's  Hole,  where  poor 
More  and  Foy  had  been  surprised  and  murdered 
by  the  Blackfeet.  The  feelings  of  the  captain  were 
shocked  at  beholding  the  bones  of  these  unfor- 
tunate young  men  bleaching  among  the  rocks  ; 
and  he  caused  them  to  be  decently  interred. 

On  the  3d  of  September  he  arrived  on  the  sum- 
mit of  a  mountain  which  commanded  a  full  view 
of  the  eventful  valley  of  Pierre's  Hole  ;  whence 
he  could  trace  the  winding  of  its  stream  through 
green  meadows  and  forests  of  willow  and  cotton- 
wood,  and  have  a  prospect,  between  distant 
mountains,  of  the  lava  plains  of  Snake  River, 
dimly  spread  forth  like  a  sleeping  ocean  below. 

After  enjoying  this  magnificent  prospect,  he  de- 
scended into  the  valley,  and  visited  the  scenes  of 
the  late  desperate  conflict.  There  were  the  re- 
mains of  the  rude  fortress  in  the  swamp,  shattered 
by  rifle  shot,  and  strewed  with  the  mingled  bones 
of  savages  and  horses.  There  was  the  late  popu- 
lous and  noisy  rendezvous,  with  the  traces  of  trap- 
pers' camps  and  Indian  lodges  ;  but  their  fires 
were  extinguished,  the  motley  assemblage  of  trap- 
pers and  hunters,  white  traders  and  Indian  braves, 
had  all  dispersed  to  different  points  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  the  valley  had  relapsed  into  its  pristine 
solitude  and  silence. 


290 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


That  night  the  captain  encamped  upon  the  battle 
ground  ;  the  next  day  he  resumed  his  toilsome 
peregrinations  through  the  mountains.  For  up- 
ward of  two  weeks  he  continued  his  painful 
march  ;  both  men  and  horses  suffering  excessively 
at  times  from  hunger  and  thirst.  At  length,  on 
the  iQth  of  September,  he  reached  the  upper 
waters  of  Salmon  River. 

The  weather  was  cold,  and  there  were  symp- 
toms of  an  impending  storm.  The  night  set  in, 
but  Buckeye,  the  Delaware  Indian,  was  missing. 
He  had  left  the  party  early  in  the  morning,  to 
hunt  by  himself,  according  to  his  custom.  Fears 
were  entertained  lest  he  should  lose  his  way  and 
become  bewildered  in  tempestuous  weather. 
These  fears  increased  on  the  following  morning 
when  a  violent  snow-storm  came  on,  which  soon 
covered  the  earth  to  the  depth  of  several  inches. 
Captain  Bonneville  immediately  encamped,  and 
sent  out  scouts  in  every  direction.  After  some 
search  Buckeye  was  discovered,  quietly  seated  at 
a  considerable  distance  in  the  rear,  waiting  the 
expected  approach  of  the  party,  not  knowing  that 
they  had  passed,  the  snow  having  covered  their 
trail. 

On  the  ensuing  morning  they  resumed  their 
march  at  an  early  hour,  but  had  not  proceeded  far 
when  the  hunters,  who  were  beating  up  the  coun- 
try in  the  advance,  came  galloping  back,  making 
signals  to  encamp,  and  crying  Indians  !  In- 
dians ! 

Captain  Bonneville  immediately  struck  into  a 
skirt  of  wood  and  prepared  for  action.  The  sav- 
ages were  now  seen  trooping  over  the  hills  in 
great  numbers.  One  of  them  left  the  main  body 
and  came  forward  singly,  making  signals  of  peace. 
He  announced  them  as  a  band  of  Nez  Perces* 
or  Pierced-nose  Indians,  friendly  to  the  whites, 
whereupon  an  invitation  was  returned  by  Captain 
Bonneville  for  them  to  come  and  encamp  with  him. 
They  halted  for  a  short  time  to  make  their  toilet 
an  operation  as  important  with  an  Indian  warrior 
as  with  a  fashionable  beauty.  This  done,  they  ar- 
ranged themselves  in  martial  style,  the  chiefs 
leading  the  van,  the  braves  following  in  a  long 
line,  painted  and  decorated,  and  topped  off  with 
fluttering  plumes.  In  this  way  they  advanced, 
shouting  and  singing,  firing  off  their  fusees,  and 
clashing  their  shields.  The  two  parties  encamped 
hard  by  each  other.  The  Nez  Percys  were  on  a 
hunting  expedition,  but  had  been  almost  famished 
on  their  march.  They  had  no  provisions  left  but 
a  few  dried  salmon  ;  yet,  finding  the  white  men 
equally  in  want  they  generously  offered  to  share 
even  this  meagre  pittance,  and  frequently  repeat- 
ed the  offer  with  an  earnestness  that  left  no  doubt 
of  their  sincerity.  Their  generosity  won  the 
heart  of  Captain  Bonneville,  and  produced  the 
most  cordial  good-will  on  the  part  of  his  men. 
For  two  days  that  the  parties  remained  in  com- 
pany, the  most  amicable  intercourse  prevailed, 
and  they  parted  the  best  of  friends.  Captain 
Bonneville  detached  a  few  men,  under  Mr.  Cerre, 
an  able  leader,  to  accompany  the  Nez  Perces  on 
their  hunting  expedition,  and  to  trade  with  them 
for  meat  for  the  winter's  supply.  After  this,  he 
proceeded  down  the  river  about  five  miles  below 
the  forks,  when  he  came  to  a  halt  on  the  26th  of 
September,  to  establish  his  winter  quarters. 


*  We  should  observe  that  this  tribe  is  universally 
called  by  its  French  name,  which  is  pronounced  by 
the  trappers,  Nepercy.  There  are  two  main  branches 
of  this  tribe,  the  upper  Nepercys  and  the  lower  Ne- 
percys,  as  we  shall  show  hereafter. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HORSES  TURNED  LOOSE  —  PREPARATIONS  FOR 
WINTER  QUARTERS — HUNGRY  TIMES — NEZ  PER- 
CES,  THEIR  HONESTY,  PIETY,  PACIFIC  HABITS, 
RELIGIOUS  CEREMONIES  —  CAPTAIN  BOXNE- 
VILLE'S  CONVERSATIONS  WITH  THEM — THEIR 
LOVE  OF  GAMBLING. 

IT  was  gratifying  to  Captain  Bonneville,  after 
so  long  and  toilsome  a  course  of  travel,  to  relieve 
his  poor  jaded  horses  of  the  burdens  under  which 
they  were  almost  ready  to  give  out,  and  to  behold 
them  rolling  upon  the  grass,  and  taking  a  long 
repose  after  all  their  sufferings.  Indeed,  so  ex- 
hausted were  they,  that  those  employed  under  the 
saddle  were  no  longer  capable  of  hunting  for  the 
daily  subsistence  of  the  camp. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  prepare  a  winter 
cantonment.  A  temporary  fortification  was 
thrown  up  for  the  protection  of  the  party  ;  a  se- 
cure and  comfortable  pen,  into  which  the  horses 
could  be  driven  at  night  ;  and  huts  were  built  for 
the  reception  of  the  merchandise. 

This  done,  Captain  Bonneville  made  a  distribu- 
tion of  his  forces  ;  twenty  men  were  to  remain 
with  him  in  garrison  to  protect  the  property  ;  the 
rest  were  organized  into  three  brigades,  and  sent 
off  in  different  directions,  to  subsist  themselves 
by  hunting  the  buffalo,  until  the  snow  should  be- 
come too  deep.  • 

Indeed,  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  pro- 
vide for  the  whole  party  in  this  neighborhood.  It 
was  at  the  extreme  western  limit  of  the  buffalo 
range,  and  these  animals  had  recently  been  com- 
pletely hunted  out  of  the  neighborhood  by  the  Nez 
Perces,  so  that,  although  the  hunters  of  the  garri- 
son were  continually  on  the  alert,  ranging  the 
country  round,  they  brought  in  scarce  game  suf- 
ficient to  keep  famine  from  the  door.  Now  and 
then  there  was  a  scanty  meal  of  fish  or  wild-fowl, 
occasionally  an  antelope  ;  but  frequently  the  crav- 
ings of  hunger  had  to  be  appeased  with  roots, 
or  the  flesh  of  wolves  and  musk-rats.  Rarely  could 
the  inmates  of  the  cantonment  boast  of  having 
made  a  full  meal,  and  never  of  having  where- 
withal for  the  morrow.  In  this  way  they  starved 
along  until  the  8th  of  October,  when  they  were 
joined  by  a  party  of  five  families  of  Nez  Perces, 
who  in  some  measure  reconciled  them  to  the  hard- 
ships of  their  situation,  by  exhibiting  a  lot  still 
more  destitute.  A  more  forlorn  set  they  had  never 
encountered  ;  they  had  not  a  morsel  of  meat  or 
fish  ;  nor  anything  to  subsist  on,  excepting  roots, 
wild  rosebuds,  the  barks  of  certain  plants,  and 
other  vegetable  productions  ;  neither  hud  they  any 
weapon  for  hunting  or  defence,  excepting  an  old 
spear.  Yet  the  poor  fellows  made  no  murmur  nor 
complaint  ;  but  seemed  accustomed  to  their  hard 
fare.  If  they  could  not  teach  the  white  men  their 
practical  stoicism,  they  at  least  made  them  ac- 
quainted with  the  edible  properties  of  roots  and 
wild  rosebuds,  and  furnished  them  a  supply  from 
their  own  store.  The  necessities  of  the  camp  at 
length  became  so  urgent  that  Captain  Bonneville 
determined  to  dispatch  a  party  to  the  Horse 
Prairie,  a  plain  to  the  north  of  his  cantonment, 
to  procure  a  supply  of  provisions.  When  the 
men  were  about  to  depart,  he  proposed  to  the  Nez 
Percys  that  they,  or  some  of  them,  should  join  the 
hunting  party.  To  his  surprise  they  promptly 
declined.  He  inquired  the  reason  for  their  refu- 
sal, seeing  that  they  were  in  nearly  as  starving 
stiuation  as  his  own  people.  They  replied  that  it 
was  a  sacred  day  with  them,  and  the  Great  Spirit 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


291 


would  be  angry  should  they  devote  it  to  hunting. 
They  offered,  however,  to  accompany  the  party  if 
it  would  delay  its  departure  until  the  following 
day  ;  but  this  the  pinching  demands  of  hunger 
would  not  permit,  and  the  detachment  proceeded. 
A  few  days  afterward,  four  of  them  signified  to 
Captain  Bonneville  that  they  were  about  to  hunt. 
"What!"  exclaimed  he,  "without  guns  or  ar- 
rows ;  and  with  only  one  old  spear  ?  What  do 
you  expect  to  kill  ?"  They  smiled  among  them- 
selves, but  made  no  answer.  Preparatory  to  the 
chase,  they  performed  some  religious  rites,  and 
offered  up  to  the  Great  Spirit  a  few  short  prayers 
for  safety  and  success  ;  then,  having  received  the 
blessings  of  their  wives,  they  leaped  upon  their 
horses  and  departed,  leaving  the  whole  party  of 
Christian  spectators  amazed  and  rebuked  by  this 
lesson  of  faith  and  dependence  on  a  supreme  and 
benevolent  Being.  "Accustomed,"  adds  Captain 
Bonneville,  "as  I  had  heretofore  been,  to  find 
the  wretched  Indian  revelling  in  blood  and  stain- 
ed by  every  vice  which  can  degrade  human  na- 
ture, I  could  scarcely  realize  the  scene  which  I 
had  witnessed.  Wonder  at  such  unaffected  ten- 
derness and  piety,  where  it  was  least  to  have  been 
sought,  contended  in  all  our  bosoms  with  shame 
and  confusion,  at  receiving  such  pure  and  whole- 
some instructions  from  creatures  so  far  below  us 
in  all  the  arts  and  comforts  of  life."  The  simple 
prayers  of  the  poor  Indians  were  not  unheard.  In 
the  course  of  four  or  five  days  they  returned,  la- 
den with  meat.  .  Captain  Bonneville  was  curious 
to  know  how  they  had  attained  such  success  with 
such  scanty  means.  They  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  they  had  chased  the  herds  of  buffalo  at 
full  speed,  until  they  tired  them  down,  when  they 
easily  dispatched  them  with  the  spear,  and  made 
use  of  the  same  weapon  to  flay  the  carcasses.  To 
carry  through  their  lessons  to  their  Christian 
friends,  the  poor  savages  were  as  charitable  as 
they  had  been  pious,  and  generously  shared  with 
them  the  spoils  of  their  hunting  ;  giving  them 
food  enough  to  last  for  several  days. 

A  further  and  more  intimate  intercourse  with 
this  tribe  gave  Captain  Bonneville  still  greater 
cause  to  admire  their  strong  devotional  feeling. 
"  Simply  to  call  these  people  religious,"  says  he, 
"  would  convey  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  deep  hue 
of  piety  and  devotion  which  pervades  their  whole 
conduct.  Their  honesty  is  immaculate,  and  their 
purity  of  purpose,  and  their  observance  of  the 
rites  of  their  religion,  are  most  uniform  and  re- 
markable. They  are,  certainly  more  like  a  na- 
tion of  saints  than  a  horde  of  savages." 

In  fact,  the  antibelligerent  policy  of  this  tribe 
may  have  sprung  from  the  doctrines  of  Christian 
charity,  for  it  \voukl  appear  that  they  had  imbibed 
some  notions  of  the  Christian  faith  from  Catholic 
missionaries  and  traders  who  had  been  among 
them.  They  even  had  a  rude  calendar  of  the 
fasts  and  festivals  of  the  Romish  Church,  and 
some  traces  of  its  ceremonials.  These  have  be- 
come blended  with  their  own  wild  rites,  and 
present  a  strange  medley  ;  civilized  and  barbar- 
ous. On  the  Sabbath,  men,  women,  and  children 
array  themselves  in  their  best  style,  and  assemble 
round  a  pole  erected  at  the  head  of  the  camp. 
Here  they  go  through  a  wild  fantastic  cere- 
monial ;  strongly  resembling  the  religious  dance 
of  the  Shaking  Quakers  ;  but,  from  its  enthusiasm, 
much  more  striking  and  impressive.  During  the 
intervals  of  the  ceremony,  the  principal  chiefs, 
who  officiate  as  priests,  instruct  them  in  their  du- 
ties, and  exhort  them  to  virtue  and  good  deeds. 

"  There  is  something  antique  and  patriarchal," 


observes  Captain  Bonneville,  "  in  this  union  of  the 
offices  of  leader  and  priest ;  as  there  is  in  many  of 
their  customs  and  manners,  which  are  all  strong- 
ly imbued  with  religion." 

The  worthy  captain,  indeed,  appears  to  have 
been  strongly  interested  by  this  gleam  of  unlooked- 
for  light  amid  the  darkness  of  the  wilderness. 
He  exerted  himself,  during  his  sojourn  among  this 
simple  and  well-disposed  people,  to  inculcate,  as 
far  as  he  was  able,  the  gentle  and  humanizing 
precepts  of  the  Christian  iaith,  and  to  make  them 
acquainted  with  the  leading  points  of  its  history  ; 
and  it  speaks  highly  for  the  purity  and  benignity 
of  his  heart,  that  he  derived  unmixed  happiness 
from  the  task. 

"  Many  a  time,"  says  he,  "  was  my  little  lodge 
thronged,  or  rather  piled  with  hearers,  for  they 
lay  on  the  ground,  one  leaning  over  the  other, 
until  there  was  no  further  room,  all  listening  with 
greedy  ears  to  the  wonders  w-hich  the  Great  Spirit 
had  revealed  to  the  white  man.  No  other  subject 
gave  them  half  the  satisfaction,  or  commanded 
half  the  attention  ;  and  but  few  scenes  in  my  life  re- 
main so  freshly  on  my  memory,  or  are  so  pleasur- 
ably  recalled  to  my  contemplation,  as  these  hours 
of  intercourse  with  a  distant  and  benighted  race 
in  the  midst  of  the  desert." 

The  only  excesses  indulged  in  by  this  temperate 
and  exemplary  people,  appear  to  be  gambling  and 
horseracing.  In  these  they  engage  with  an  eager- 
ness that  amounts  to  infatuation.  Knots  of  gam- 
blers will  assemble  betore  one  of  their  lodge  fires, 
early  in  the  evening,  and  remain  absorbed  in  the 
chances  and  changes  of  the  game  until  long  after 
dawn  of  the  following  day.  As  the  night  ad- 
vances, they  wax  warmer  and  warmer.  Bets  in- 
crease in  amount,  one  loss  only  serves  to  lead  to 
a  greater,  until  in  the  course  of  a  single  night's 
gambling,  the  richest  chief  may  become  the  poor- 
est varlet  in  the  camp. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BLACKFEET  IN  THE  HORSE  PRAIRIE  —  SEARCH 
AFTER  THE  HUNTERS — DIFFICULTIES  AND  DAN- 
GERS— A  CARD  PARTY  IN  THE  WILDERNESS — 
THE  CARD  PARTY  INTERRUPTED —  "OLD 
SLEDGE"  A  LOSING  GAME — VISITORS  TO  THE 
CAMP — IROQUOIS  HUNTERS — HANGING- EARED 

INDIANS. 

ON  the  i2th  of  October,  two  young  Indians  of 
the  Nez  Perce  tribe  arrived  at  Captain  Bonneville's 
encampment.  They  were  on  their  way  home- 
ward, but  had  been  obliged  to  swerve  from  their 
ordinary  route  through  the  mountains,  by  deep 
snows.  Their  new  route  took  them  through  the 
Horse  Prairie.  In  traversing  it,  they  had  been 
attracted  by  the  distant  smoke  of  a  camp  fire,  and, 
on  stealing  near  to  reconnoitre,  had  discovered  a 
war  party  of  Blackfeet.  They  had  several  horses 
with  them  ;  and,  as  they  generally  go  on  foot  on 
warlike  excursions,  it  was  concluded  that  these 
horses  had  been  captured  in  the  course  of  their 
maraudings. 

This  intelligence  awakened  solicitude  on  the 
mind  of  Captain  Bonneville  for  the  party  of  hunt- 
ers whom  he  had  sent  to  that  neighborhood  ;  and 
the  Nez  Perces,  when  informed  of  the  circum- 
stance, shook  their  heads,  and  declared  their  be- 
lief that  the  horses  they  had  seen  had  been  stolen 
from  that  very  party. 


292 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


Anxious  for  information  on  the  subject,  Captain 
Bonneville  dispatched  two  hunters  to  beat  up  the 
country  in  that  direction.  They  searched  in 
vain  ;  not  a  trace  of  the  men  could  be  found  ;  but 
they  got  into  a  region  destitute  of  game,  where 
they  were  well-nigh  famished.  At  one  time  they 
were  three  entire  days  without  a  mouthful  of 
food  ;  at  length  they  beheld  a  buffalo  grazing  at 
the  toot  of  a  mountain.  After  manoeuvring  so  as 
to  get  within  shot,  they  fired,  but  merely  wounded 
him.  He  took  to  flight,  and  they  followed  him 
over  hill  and  dale,  with  the  eagerness  and  perse- 
verance of  starving  men.  A  more  lucky  shot 
brought  him  to  the  ground.  Stanfield  sprang 
upon  him,  plunged  his  knife  into  his  throat,  and 
allayed  his  raging  hunger  by  drinking  his  blood. 
A  fire  was  instantly  kindled  beside  the  carcass, 
when  the  two  hunters  cooked,  and  ate  again  and 
again,  until,  perfectly  gorged,  they  sank  to  sleep 
before  their  hunting  fire.  On  the  following  morn- 
ing they  rose  early,  made  another  hearty  meal, 
then  loading  themselves  with  buffalo  meat,  set 
out  on  their  return  to  the  camp,  to  report  the 
fruitlessness  of  their  mission. 

At  length,  after  six  weeks'  absence,  the  hunters 
made  their  appearance,  and  were  received  with 
joy  proportioned  to  the  anxiety  that  had  been  felt 
on  their  account.  They  had  hunted  with  success 
on  the  prairie,  but,  while  busy  drying  buffalo 
meat,  were  joined  by  a  few  panic-stricken  Flat- 
heads,  who  informed  them  that  a  powerful  band 
of  Blackfeet  were  at  hand.  The  hunters  imme- 
diately abandoned  the  dangerous  hunting  ground, 
and  accompanied  the  Flatheads  to  their  village. 
Here  they  found  Mr.  Cerre,  and  the  detachment 
of  hunters  sent  with  him  to  accompany  the  hunt- 
ing party  of  the  Nez  Percys. 

After  remaining  some  time  at  the  village,  until 
they  supposed  the  Blackfeet  to  have  left  the  neigh- 
borhood, they  set  off  with  some  of  Mr.  Cerre"'s 
men  for  the  cantonment  at  Salmon  River,  where 
they  arrived  without  accident.  They  informed 
Captain  Bonneville,  however,  that  not  far  from 
his  quarters  they  had  found  a  wallet  of  fresh 
meat  and  a  cord,  which  they  supposed  had  been 
left  by  some  prowling  Blackfeet.  A  few  days  af- 
terward Mr.  Cerre",  with  the  remainder  of  his  men, 
likewise  arrived  at  the  cantonment. 

Mr.  Walker,  one  of  his  subleaders,  who  had 
gone  with  a  band  of  twenty  hunters  to  range  the 
country  just  beyond  the  Horse  Prairie,  had  like- 
wise his  share  of  adventures  with  the  all-pervad- 
ing Blackfeet.  At  one  of  his  encampments  the 
guard  stationed  to  keep  watch  round  the  camp 
grew  weary  of  their  duty,  and  feeling  a  little  too 
secure,  and  too  much  at  home  on  these  prairies, 
retired  to  a  small  grove  of  willows  to  amuse 
themselves  with  a  social  game  of  cards  called 
"old  sledge,"  which  is  as  popular  among  these 
trampers  of  the  prairies  as  whist  or  e"carte  among 
the  polite  circles  of  the  cities.  From  the  midst  of 
their  sport  they  were  suddenly  roused  by  a  dis- 
charge of  firearms  and  a  shrill  war-whoop. 
Starting  on  their  feet,  and  snatching  up  their  ri- 
fles, they  beheld  in  dismay  their  horses  and  mules 
already  in  possession  of  the  enemy,  who  had  sto- 
len upon  the  camp  unperceivecl,  while  they  were 
spell-bound  by  the  magic  of  old  sledge.  The  In- 
dians sprang  upon  the  animals  barebacked,  and 
endeavored  to  urge  them  off  under  a  galling  fire 
that  did  some  execution.  The  mules,  however, 
confounded  by  the  hurly-burly  and  disliking  their 
new  riders  kicked  up  their  heels  and  dismounted 
half  of  them,  in  spite  of  their  horsemanship.  This 
threw  the  rest  into  confusion  ;  they  endeavored 


to  protect  their  unhorsed  comrades  from  the  fu- 
rious assaults  of  the  whites  ;  but,  after  a  scene  of 
"  confusion  worse  confounded,"  horses  and  mules 
were  abandoned,  and  the  Indians  betook  them- 
selves to  the  bushes.  Here  they  quickly  scratched 
holes  in  the  earth  about  two  feet  deep,  in  which 
they  prostrated  themselves,  and  while  thus  screen- 
ed from  the  shots  of  the  white  men,  were  enabled 
to  make  such  use  of  their  bows  and  arrows  and 
fusees,  as  to  repulse  their  assailants  and  to  effect 
their  retreat.  This  adventure  threw  a  temporary 
stigma  upon  the  game  of  "  old  sledge." 

In  the  course  of  the  autumn,  four  Iroquois 
hunters,  driven  by  the  snow  from  their  hunting 
grounds,  made  their  appearance  at  the  canton- 
ment. They  were  kindly  welcomed,  and  during 
their  sojourn  made  themselves  useful  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  being  excellent  trappers  and  first-rate 
woodsmen.  They  were  of  the  remnants  of  a  party 
of  Iroquois  hunters  that  came  from  Canada  into 
these  mountain  regions  many  years  previously,  in 
the  employ  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  They 
were  led  by  a  brave  chieftain,  named  Pierre,  who 
fell  by  the  hands  of  the  Blackfeet,  and  gave  his 
name  to  the  fated  valley  of  Pierre's  Hole.  This 
branch  of  the  Iroquois  tribe  has  ever  since  re- 
mained among  these  mountains,  at  mortal  enmity 
with  the  Blackfeet,  and  have  lost  many  of  their 
prime  hunters  in  their  feuds  with  that  ferocious 
race.  Some  of  them  fell  in  with  General  Ashley, 
in  the  course  of  one  of  his  gallant  excursions  into 
the  wilderness,  and  have  continued  ever  since  in 
the  employ  of  the  company. 

Among  the  motley  visitors  to  the  winter  quar- 
ters of  Captain  Bonneville  was  a  party  of  Pends 
Oreilles  (or  Hanging-ears)  and  their  chief.  These 
Indians  have  a  strong  resemblance,  in  character 
and  customs,  to  the  Nez  Perec's.  They  amount  to 
about  three  hundred  lodges,  are  well  armed, 
and  possess  great  numbers  of  horses.  During 
the  spring,  summer,  and  autumn,  they  hunt  the 
buffalo  about  the  head-waters  of  the  Missouri, 
Henry's  Fork  of  the  Snake  River,  and  the  north- 
ern branches  of  Salmon  River.  Their  winter 
quarters  are  upon  the  Racine  Amere,  where  they 
subsist  upon  roots  and  dried  buffalo  meat.  Upon 
this  river  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  have  estab- 
lished a  trading  post,  where  the  Pends  Oreilles 
and  the  Flatheads  bring  their  peltries  to  exchange 
for  arms,  clothing,  and  trinkets. 

This  tribe,  like  the  Nez  Perec's,  evince  strong 
and  peculiar  feelings  of  natural  piety.  Their  re- 
ligion is  not  a  mere  superstitious  fear,  like  that 
of  most  savages  ;  they  evince  abstract  notions  of 
morality  ;  a  deep  reverence  for  an  overruling 
spirit  and  a  respect  for  the  rights  of  their  fellow- 
men.  In  one  respect  their  religion  partakes  of  the 
pacific  doctrines  of  the  Quakers.  They  hold  that 
the  Great  Spirit  is  displeased  with  all  nations  who 
wantonly  engage  in  war  ;  they  abstain,  therefore, 
from  all  aggressive  hostilities.  But  though  thus 
unoffending  in  their  policy,  they  are  called  upon 
continually  towage  defensive  warfare  ;  especially 
with  the  Blackfeet  ;  with  whom,  in  the  course  of 
their  hunting  expeditions,  they  come  in  frequent 
collision  and  have  desperate  battles.  Their  con- 
duct as  warriors  is  without  fear  or  reproach,  and 
they  can  never  be  driven  to  abandon  their  hunt- 
ing grounds. 

Like  most  savages  they  are  firm  believers  in 
dreams,  and  in  the  power  and  efficacy  of  charms 
and  amulets,  or  medicines  as  they  term  them. 
Some  of  their  braves,  also,  who  have  had  numer- 
ous hairbreadth  'scapes,  like  the  old  Nez  I'erce' 
chief  in  the  battle  of  Pierre's  Hole,  are  believed 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


to  wear  a  charmed  life,  and  to  be  bullet-proof.  Of 
these  gifted  beings  marvellous  anecdotes  are  re- 
lated, which  are  most  potently  believed  by  their 
fellow  savages,  and  sometimes  almost  credited  by 
the  white  hunters. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

RIVAL  TRAPPING  PARTIES  —  MANCEUVPING  —  A 
DESPERATE  GAME  —  VANDERBURGH  AND  THE 
BLACKFEET — DESERTED  CAMP  FIRE — A  DARK 
DEFILE — AN  INDIAN  AMBUSH — A  FIERCE  MELEE 
— FATAL  CONSEQUENCES  — •  FITZPATRICK  AND 
BRIDGER — TRAPPERS'  PRECAUTIONS — MEETING 

WITH    THE    BLACKFEET  —  MORE    FIGHTING 

ANECDOTE  OF  A  YOUNG  MEXICAN  AND  AN  IN- 
DIAN GIRL. 

WHILE  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  men  are  so- 
journing among  the  Nez  Percys,  on  Salmon  River, 
we  will  inquire  after  the  fortunes  of  those  doughty 
rivals  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  American  Fur 
Companies,  who  started  off  for  the  trapping 
grounds  to  the  north-northwest. 

Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger,  of  the  former  com- 
pany, as  we  have  already  shown,  having  received 
their  supplies,  had  taken  the  lead,  and  hoped  to 
have  the  first  sweep  of  the  hunting  grounds.  Van- 
derburgh  and  Dripps,  however,  the  two  resident 
partners  of  the  opposite  company,  by  extraordi- 
nary exertions  were  enabled  soon  to  put  them- 
selves upon  their  traces,  and  pressed  forward  with 
such  speed  as  to  overtake  them  just  as  they  had 
reached  the  heart  of  the  beaver  country.  In  fact, 
being  ignorant  of  the  best  trapping  grounds,  it 
was  their  object  to  follow  on,  and  profit  by  the 
superior  knowledge  of  the  other  party. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  chagrin  of  Fitzpatrick 
and  Bridger  at  being  dogged  by  their  inexperi- 
enced rivals,  especially  after  their  offer  to  divide 
the  country  with  them.  They  tried  in  every  way 
to  blind  and  baffle  them  ;  to  steal  a  march  upon 
them,  or  lead  them  on  a  wrong  scent  ;  but  all  in 
vain.  Vanderburgh  made  up  by  activity  and  in- 
telligence for  his  ignorance  of  the  country  ;  was 
always  wary,  always  on  the  alert  ;  discovered 
every  movement  of  his  rivals,  however  secret,  and 
was  not  to  be  eluded  or  misled. 

Fitzpatrick  and  his  colleague  now  lost  all  pa- 
tience ;  since  the  others  persisted  in  following 
them,  they  determined  to  give  them  an  unprofita- 
ble chase,  and  to  sacrifice  the  hunting  season 
rather  than  share  the  products  with  their  rivals. 
They  accordingly  took  up  their  line  of  march 
down  the  course  of  the  Missouri,  keeping  the 
main  Blackfoot  trail,  and  tramping  doggedly  for- 
ward, without  stopping  to  set  a  single  trap. 
The  others  beat  the  hoof  after  them  for  some  time, 
but  by  degrees  began  to  perceive  that  they  were 
on  a  wild-goose  chase,  and  getting  into  a  country 
perfectly  barren  to  the  trapper.  They  now  came 
to  a  halt,  and  bethought  themselves  how  to  make 
up  for  lost  time,  and  improve  the  remainder  of  the 
season.  It  was  thought  best  to  divide  their  forces 
and  try  different  trapping  grounds.  While  Dripps 
went  in  one  direction,  Vanderburgh,  with  about 
fifty  men,  proceeded  in  another.  The  latter,  in 
his  headlong  march  had  got  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  Blackfoot  country,  yet  seems  to  have  been  un- 
conscious of  his  danger.  As  his  scouts  were  out 
one  day,  they  came  upon  the  traces  of  a  recent 
band  of  savages.  There  were  the  deserted  fires 
still  smoking,  surrounded  by  the  carcasses  of  buf- 


faloes just  killed.  It  was  evident  a  party  of  Black- 
feet  had  been  frightened  from  their  hunting 
camp,  and  had  retreated,  probably  to  seek  rein- 
forcements. The  scouts  hastened  back  to  the 
camp,  and  told  Vanderburgh  what  they  had  seen. 
He  made  light  of  the  alarm,  and,  taking  nine  men 
with  him,  galloped  off  to  reconnoitre  for  himself. 
He  found  the  deserted  hunting  camp  just  as  they 
had  represented  it  ;  there  lay  the  carcasses  of 
buffaloes,  partly  dismembered  ;  there  were  the 
smouldering  fires,  still  sending  up  their  wreaths 
of  smoke  ;  everything  bore  traces  of  recent  and 
hasty  retreat  ;  and  gave  reason  to  believe  that  the 
savages  were  still  lurking  in  the  neighborhood. 
With  heedless  daring,  Vanderburgh  put  himself 
upon  their  trail,  to  trace  them  to  their  place  of 
concealment.  It  led  him  over  prairies,  and 
through  skirts  of  woodland,  until  it  entered  a 
dark  and  dangerous  ravine.  Vanderburgh  pushed 
in,  without  hesitation,  followed  by  his  little  band. 
They  soon  found  themselves  in  a  gloomy  dell,  be- 
tween steep  banks  overhung  with  trees,  where 
the  profound  silence  was  only  broken  by  the  tramp 
of  their  own  horses. 

Suddenly  the  horrid  war-whoop  burst  on  their 
ears,  mingled  with  the  sharp  report  of  rifles,  and  a 
legion  of  savages  sprang  from  their  concealments, 
yelling,  and  shaking  their  buffalo  robes  to  frighten 
the  horses.  Vanderburgh's  horse  fell,  mortally 
wounded  by  the  first  discharge.  In  his  fall  he  pinn- 
ed his  rider  to  the  ground,  who  called  in  vain  upon 
his  men  to  assist  in  extricating  him.  One  was  shot 
down  and  scalped  a  few  paces  distant  ;  most  of  the 
others  were  severely  wounded,  and  sought  their 
safety  in  flight.  The  savages  approached  to  dis- 
patch the  unfortunate  leader,  as  he  lay  struggling 
beneath  his  horse.  He  had  still  his  rifle  in  his  hand 
and  his  pistols  in  his  belt.  The  first  savage  that 
advanced  received  the  contents  of  the  rifle  in  his 
breast,  and  fell  dead  upon  the  spot  ;  but  before 
Vanderburgh  could  draw  a  pistol,  a  blow  from  a 
tomahawk  laid  him  prostrate,  and  he  was  dis- 
patched by  repeated  wounds. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  Major  Henry  Vander- 
burgh, one  of  the  best  and  worthiest  leaders  of 
the  American  Fur  Company,  who  by  his  manly 
bearing  and  dauntless  courage  is  said  to  have 
made  himself  universally  popular  among  the  bold- 
hearted  rovers  of  the  wilderness. 

Those  of  the  little  band  who  escaped  fled  in 
consternation  to  the  camp,  and  spread  direful  re- 
ports of  the  force  and  ferocity  of  the  enemy.  The 
party,  being  without  a  head,  were  in  complete 
confusion  and  dismay,  and  made  a  precipitate  re- 
treat, without  attempting  to  recover  the  remains 
of  their  butchered  leader.  They  made  no  halt 
until  they  reached  the  encampment  of  the  Pends 
Oreilles,  or  Hanging-ears,  where  they  offered  a 
reward  for  the  recovery  of  the  body,  but  without 
success  ;  it  never  could  be  found. 

In  the  meantime  Fitzpatrick  and  Bridger,  of  the 
Rocky  Mountain  Company,  fared  but  little  better 
than  their  rivals.  In  their  eagerness  to  mislead 
them  they  had  betrayed  themselves  into  danger, 
and  got  into  a  region  infested  with  the  Blackfeet. 
They  soon  found  that  foes  were  on  the  watch  for 
them  ;  but  they  were  experienced  in  Indian  war- 
fare, and  not  to  be  surprised  at  night,  nor  drawn 
into  an  ambush  in  the  daytime.  As  the  evening 
advanced,  the  horses  were  all  brought  in  and 
picketed,  and  a  guard  was  stationed  round  the 
camp.  At  the  earliest  streak  of  day  one  of  the 
leaders  would  mount  his  horse,  and  gallop  off  lull 
speed  for  about  half  a  mile  ;  then  look  round  for 
Indian  trails,  to  ascertain  whether  there  had  been 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


any  lurkers  round  the  camp  ;  returning  slowly, 
he  would  reconnoitre  every  ravine  and  thicket 
where  there  might  be  an  ambush.  This  clone,  he 
would  gallop  off  in  an  opposite  direction  and  re- 
peat the  same  scrutiny.  Finding  all  things  safe, 
the  horses  would  be  turned  loose  to  graze,  but  al- 
ways under  the  eye  of  a  guard. 

A  caution  equally  vigilant  was  observed  in  the 
march,  on  approaching  any  defile  or  place  where 
an  enemy  might  lie  in  wait  ;  and  scouts  were  al- 
ways kept  in  the  advance,  or  along  the  ridges  and 
rising  grounds  on  the  flanks. 

At  length,  one  day,  a  large  band  of  Blackfeet 
appeared  in  the  open  field,  but  in  the  vicinity  of 
rocks  and  cliffs.  They  kept  at  a  wary  distance, 
but  made  friendly  signs.  The  trappers  replied  in 
the  same  way,  but  likewise  kept  aloof.  A  small 
party  of  Indians  now  advanced,  bearing  the  pipe 
of  peace  ;  they  were  met  by  an  equal  number  of 
white  men,  and  they  formed  a  group  midway 
between  the  two  bands,  where  the  pipe  was  cir- 
culated from  hand  to  hand,  and  smoked  with  all 
due  ceremony.  An  instance  of  natural  affection 
took  place  at  this  pacific  meeting.  Among  the 
free  trappers  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  band  was 
a  spirited  young  Mexican  named  Loretto,  who, 
in  the  course  of  his  wanderings,  had  ransomed  a 
beautiful  Blackfoot  girl  from  a  band  of  Crows  by 
whom  she  had  been  captured.  He  made  her  his 
wife,  after  the  Indian  style,  and  she  had  followed 
his  fortunes  ever  since,  with  the  most  devoted 
affection. 

Among  the  Blackfeet  warriors  who  advanced 
with  the  calumet  of  peace  she  recognized  a 
brother.  Leaving  her  infant  with  Loretto  she 
rushed  forward  and  threw  herself  upon  her 
brother's  neck,  who  clasped  his  long-lost  sister 
to  his  heart  with  a  warmth  of  affection  but  little 
compatible  with  the  reputed  stoicism  of  the  sav- 
age. 

While  this  scene  was  taking  place,  Bridger  left 
the  main  body  of  trappers  and  rode  slowly  to- 
ward the  group  of  smokers,  with  his  rifle  resting 
across  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  The  chief  of 
the  Blackfeet  stepped  forward  to  meet  him.  From 
some  unfortunate  feeling  of  distrust  Bridger  cock- 
ed his  rifle  just  as  the  chief  was  extending  his 
hand  in  friendship.  The  quick  ear  of  the  savage 
caught  the  click  of  the  lock;  in  a  twinkling  he 
grasped  the  barrel,  forced  the  muzzle  downward, 
and  the  contents  were  discharged  into  the  earth 
at  his  feet.  His  next  movement  was  to  wrest  the 
weapon  from  the  hand  of  Bridger  and  fell  him 
with  it  to  the  earth.  He  might  have  found  this 
no  easy  task  had  not  the  unfortunate  leader  re- 
ceived two  arrows  in  his  back  during  the  struggle. 

The  chief  now  sprang  into  the  vacant  saddle 
and  galloped  off  to  his  band.  A  wild  hurry- 
skurry  scene  ensued  ;  each  party  took  to  the 
banks,  the  rocks  and  trees,  to  gain  favorable  posi- 
tions, and  an  irregular  firing  was  kept  up  on 
either  side,  without  much  effect.  The  Indian  girl 
had  been  hurried  off  by  her  people  at  the  out- 
break of  the  affray.  She  would  have  returned, 
through  the  dangers  of  the  fight,  to  her  husband 
and  her  child,  but  was  prevented  by  her  brother. 
The  young  Mexican  saw  her  struggles  and  her 
agony,  and  heard  her  piercing  cries.  With  a  gen- 
erous impulse  he  caught  up  the  child  in  his  arms, 
rushed  forward,  regardless  of  Indian  shaft  or  rifle, 
and  placed  it  in  safety  upon  her  bosom.  Even 
the  savage  heart  of  the  Blackfoot  chief  was  reach- 
ed by  this  noble  deed.  He  pronounced  Loretto 
a  madman  for  his  temerity,  but  bade  him  depart 
in  peace.  The  young  Mexican  hesitated  ;  he 


urged  to  have  his  wife  restored  to  him,  but  her 
brother  interfered,  and  the  countenance  of  the 
chief  grew  dark.  The  girl,  he  said,  belonged  to 
his  tribe — she  must  remain  with  her  people.  Lo- 
retto would  still  have  lingered,  but  his  wife  im- 
plored him  to  depart,  lest  his  life  should  be  en- 
dangered. It  was  with  the  greatest  reluctance 
that  he  returned  to  his  companions. 

The  approach  of  night  put  an  end  to  the  skir- 
mishing fire  of  the  adverse  parties,  and  the  savages 
drew  off  without  renewing  their  hostilites.  We 
cannot  but  remark  that  both  in  this  affair  and 
that  of  Pierre's  Hole  the  affray  commenced  by  a 
hostile  act  on  the  part  of  white  men  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  Indian  warrior  was  extending  the 
hand  of  amity.  In  neither  instance,  as  far  as 
circumstances  have  been  stated  to  us  by  different 
persons,  do  we  see  any  reason  to  suspect  the  sav- 
age chiefs  of  perfidy  in  their  overtures  of  friend- 
ship. They  advanced  in  the  confiding  way  usual 
among  Indians  when  they  bear  the  pipe  of  peace, 
and  consider  themselves  sacred  from  attack.  If 
we  violate  the  sanctity  of  this  ceremonial,  by  any 
hostile  movement  on  our  part,  it  is  we  who  incur 
the  charge  of  faithlessness  ;  and  we  doubt  not 
that  in  both  these  instances  the  white  men  have 
been  considered  by  the  Blackfeet  as  the  aggres- 
sors, and  have,  in  consequence,  been  held  up  as 
men  not  to  be  trusted. 

A  word  to  conclude  the  romantic  incident  of 
Loretto  and  his  Indian  bride.  A  few  months  sub- 
sequent to  the  event  just  related,  the  young  Mex- 
ican settled  his  accounts  with  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Company,  and  obtained  his  discharge.  He 
then  left  his  comrades  and  set  off  to  rejoin  his  wife 
and  child  among  her  people  ;  and  we  understand 
that,  at  the  time  we  are  writing  these  pages,  he 
resides  at  a  trading-house  established  of  late  by 
the  American  Fur  Company  in  the  Blackfoot 
country,  where  he  acts  as  an  interpreter,  and  has 
his  Indian  girl  with  him. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  WINTER  CAMP  IN  THE  WILDERNESS — MEDLEY 
OF  TRAPPERS,  HUNTERS,  AND  INDIANS — SCAR- 
CITY OF  GAME — NEW  ARRANGEMENTS  IN  THE 
CAMP — DETACHMENTS  SENT  TO  A  DISTANCE — 
CARELESSNESS  OF  THE  INDIANS  WHEN  EN- 
CAMPED—SICKNESS AMONG  THE  INDIANS— EX- 
CELLENT CHARACTER  OF  THE  NEZ  PERCES 

THE  CAPTAIN'S  EFFORT  AS  A  PACIFICATOR — 
A  NEZ  PERCE'S  ARGUMENT  IN  FAVOR  OF  WAR 
— ROBBERIES  BY  THE  BLACKFEET — LONG  SUF- 
FERING OF  THE  NEZ  PERCES— A  HUNTER'S  ELY- 
SIUM AMONG  THE  MOUNTAINS — MORE  ROBBER- 
IES— THE  CAPTAIN  PREACHES  UP  A  CRUSADE 
—THE  EFFECT  UPON  HIS  HEARERS. 

FOR  the  greater  part  of  the  month  of  Novem- 
ber Captain  Bonneville  remained  in  his  tempo- 
rary post  on  Salmon  River.  He  was  now  in  the 
full  enjoyment  of  his  wishes  ;  leading  a  hunter's 
life  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness,  with  all  its  wild 
populace  around  him.  Beside  his  own  people, 
motley  in  character  and  costume — Creole,  Ken- 
tuckian,  Indian,  half-breed,  hired  trapper,  and 
free  trapper — he  was  surrounded  by  encampments 
of  Nez  Percys  and  Flatheads,  with  their  droves  of 
horses  covering  the  hills  and  plains.  It  was,  he 
declares,  a  wild  and  bustling  scene.  The  hunt- 
ing parties  of  white  men  and  red  men,  continu- 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


295 


ally  sallying  forth  and  returning  ;  the  groups  at 
the  various  encampments,  some  cooking,  some 
working,  some  amusing  themselves  at  different 
games  ;  the  neighing  of  horses,  the  braying  of 
asses,  the  resounding  strokes  of  the  axe,  the  sharp 
report  of  the  rifle,  the  whoop,  the  halloo,  and  the 
frequent  burst  of  laughter,  all  in  the  midst  of  a 
region  suddenly  roused  from  perfect  silence  and 
loneliness  by  this  transient  hunters'  sojourn,  real- 
ized, he  says,  the  idea  of  a  "  populous  solitude." 

The  kind  and  genial  character  of  the  captain  had, 
evidently,  its  influence  on  the  opposite  races  thus 
fortuitously  congregated  together.  The  most  per- 
fect harmony  prevailed  between  them.  The  In- 
dians, he  says,  were  friendly  in  their  dispositions, 
and  honest  to  the  most  scrupulous  degree  in  their 
intercourse  with  the  white  men.  It  is  true  they  were 
somewhat  importunate  in  their  curiosity,  and  apt 
to  be  continually  in  the  way,  examining  everything 
with  keen  and  prying  eye,  and  watching  every 
movement  of  the  white  men.  All  this,  however, 
was  borne  with  great  good-humor  by  the  captain, 
and  through  his  example  by  his  men.  Indeed, 
throughout  all  his  transactions  he  shows  himself 
the  iriend  of  the  poor  Indians,  and  his  conduct  to- 
ward them  is  above  all  praise. 

The  Nez  Percys,  the  Flatheads,  and  the  Hang- 
ing-ears pride  themselves  upon  the  number  of 
their  horses,  of  which  they  possess  more  in  pro- 
portion than  any  other  of  the  mountain  tribes 
within  the  buffalo  range.  Many  of  the  Indian 
warriors  and  hunters  encamped  around  Captain 
Bonneville  possess  from  thirty  to  forty  horses 
each.  Their  horses  are  stout,  well-built  ponies,  of 
great  wind,  and  capable  of  enduring  the  severest 
hardship  and  fatigue.  The  swiftest  of  them,  how- 
ever, are  those  obtained  from  the  whites  while 
sufficiently  young  to  become  acclimated  and  in- 
ured to  the  rough  service  of  the  mountains. 

By  degrees  the  populousness  of  this  encamp- 
ment began  to  produce  its  inconveniences.  The 
immense  droves  of  horses  owned  by  the  Indians 
consumed  the  herbage  of  the  surrounding  hills  ; 
while  to  drive  them  to  any  distant  pasturage,  in 
a  neighborhood  abounding  with  lurking  and 
deadly  enemies,  would  be  to  endanger  the  loss 
both  of  man  and  beast.  Game,  too,  began  to 
grow  scarce.  It  was  soon  hunted  and  frightened 
out  of  the  vicinity,  and  though  the  Indians  made 
a  wide  circuit  through  the  mountains  in  the  hope 
of  driving  the  buffalo  toward  the  cantonment, 
their  expedition  was  unsuccessful.  It  was  plain 
that  so  large  a  party  could  not  subsist  themselves 
there,  nor  in  any  one  place,  throughout  the  win- 
ter. Captain  Bonneville,  therefore,  altered  his 
whole  arrangements.  He  detached  fifty  men  to- 
ward the  south  to  winter  upon  Snake  River,  and 
to  trap  about  its  waters  in  the  spring,  with  orders 
to  rejoin  him  in  the  month  of  July  at  Horse 
Creek,  in  Green  River  valley,  which  he  had  fixed 
upon  as  the  general  rendezvous  of  his  company 
for  the  ensuing  year. 

Of  all  his  late  party,  he  now  retained  with  him 
merely  a  small  number  of  free  trappers,  with 
whom  he  intended  to  sojourn  among  the  Nez 
Percys  and  Flatheads,  and  adopt  the  Indian  mode 
of  moving  with  the  game  and  grass.  Those 
bands,  in  effect,  shortly  afterward  broke  up  their 
encampments  and  set  off  for  a  less  beaten  neigh- 
borhood. Captain  Bonneville  remained  behind 
for  a  few  days,  that  he  might  secretly  prepare 
caches,  in  which  to  deposit  everything  not  re- 
quired for  current  use.  Thus  lightened  of  all  su- 
perfluous incumbrance,  he  set  off  on  the  2oth  of 
November  to  rejoin  his  Indian  allies.  He  found 


them  encamped  in  a  secluded  part  of  the  country, 
at  the  head  of  a  small  stream.  Considering  them- 
selves out  of  all  danger  in  this  sequestered  spot 
from  their  old  enemies,  the  Blackleet,  their  en- 
campment manifested  the  most  negligent  secur- 
ity. Their  lodges  were  scattered  in  every  direc- 
tion, and  their  horses  covered  every  hill  for  a  great 
distance  round,  grazing  upon  the  upland  bunch 
grass  which  grew  in  great  abundance,  and  though 
dry,  retained  its  nutritious  properties  instead  of 
losing  them  like  other  grasses  in  the  autumn. 

When  the  Nez  Percys,  Flatheads,  and  Pends 
Oreilles  are  encamped  in  a  dangerous  neighbor- 
hood, says  Captain  Bonneville,  the  greatest  care  is 
taken  of  their  horses,  those  prime  articles  of  In- 
dian wealth,  and  objects  of  Indian  depredation. 
Each  warrior  has  his  horse  tied  by  one  foot  at 
night  to  a  stake  planted  before  his  lodge.  Here 
they  remain  until  broad  daylight  ;  by  that  time 
the  young  men  of  the  camp  are  already  ranging 
over  the  surrounding  hills.  Each  family  then 
drives  its  horses  to  some  eligible  spot,  where  they 
are  left  to  graze  unattended.  A  young  Indian 
repairs  occasionally  to  the  pasture  to  give  them 
water,  and  to  see  that  all  is  well.  So  accustom- 
ed are  the  horses  to  this  management,  that  they 
keep  together  in  the  pasture  where  they  have  been 
left.  As  the  sun  sinks  behind  the  hills,  they  may 
be  seen  moving  from  all  points  toward  the  camp, 
where  they  surrender  themselves  to  be  tied  up  for 
the  night.  Even  in  situations  of  danger,  the  In- 
dians rarely  set  guards  over  their  camp  at  night, 
intrusting  that  office  entirely  to  their  vigilant  and 
well-trained  dogs. 

In  an  encampment,  however,  of  such  fancied 
security  as  that  in  which  Captain  Bonneville 
found  his  Indian  friends,  much  of  these  precau- 
tions with  respect  to  their  horses  are  omitted. 
They  merely  drive  them,  at  nightfall,  to  some  se-x 
questered  little  dell,  and  leave  them  there,  at  per- 
fect liberty,  until  the  morning. 

One  object  of  Captain  Bonneville  in  wintering 
among  these  Indians  was  to  procure  a  supply  of 
horses  against  the  spring.  They  were,  however, 
extremely  unwilling  to  part  with  any,  and  it  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  he  purchased,  at  the  rate 
of  twenty  dollars  each,  a  few  for  the  use  of  some 
of  his  free  trappers  who  were  on  foot  and  de- 
pendent on  him  for  their  equipment. 

In  this  encampment  Captain  Bonneville  remain- 
ed from  the  2ist  of  November  to  the  gth  of  De- 
cember. During  this  period  the  thermometer 
ranged  from  thirteen  to  forty-two  degrees.  There 
were  occasional  falls  of  snow  ;  but  it  generally 
melted  away  almost  immediately,  and  the  tender 
blades  of  new  grass  began  to  shoot  up  among  the 
old.  On  the  yth  of  December,  however,  the  ther- 
mometer fell  to  seven  degrees. 

The  reader  will  recollect  that,  on  distributing 
his  forces  when  in  Green  River  valley,  Captain 
Bonneville  had  detached  a  party,  headed  by  a 
leader  of  the  name  of  Matthieu,  with  all  the  weak 
and  disabled  horses,  to  sojourn  about  Bear  River, 
meet  the  Shoshonie  bands,  and  afterward  to  re- 
join him  at  his  winter  camp  on  Salmon  River. 

More  than  sufficient  time  had  elapsed,  yet  Mat- 
thieu failed  to  make  his  appearance,  and  uneasi- 
ness began  to  be  felt  on  his  account.  Captain 
Bonneville  sent  out  four  men,  to  range  the  coun- 
try through  which  he  would  have  to  pass,  and  en- 
deavor to  get  some  information  concerning  him  ; 
for  his  route  lay  across  the  great  Snake  River 
plain,  which  spreads  itself  out  like  an  Arabian 
desert,  and  on  which  a  cavalcade  could  be  de- 
scried at  a  great  distance.  The  scouts  soon  re- 


296 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


turned,  having  proceeded  no  further  than  the  edge 
of  the  plain,  pretending  that  their  horses  were 
lame  ;  but  it  was  evident  they  had  feared  to  ven- 
ture, with  so  small  a  force,  into  these  exposed  and 
dangerous  regions. 

A  disease,  which  Captain  Bonneville  supposed 
to  be  pneumonia,  now  appeared  among  the  In- 
dians, carrying  off  numbers  of  them  after  an  ill- 
ness of  three  or  four  days.  The  worthy  captain 
acted  as  physician,  prescribing  profuse  sweatings 
and  copious  bleedings,  and  uniformly  with  suc- 
cess, if  the  patient  were  subsequently  treated  with 
proper  care.  In  extraordinary  cases,  the  poor 
savages  called  in  the  aid  of  their  own  doctors  or 
conjurors,  who  officiated  with  great  noise  and 
mummery,  but  with  little  benefit.  Those  who 
died  during  this  epidemic  were  buried  in  graves, 
after  the  manner  of  the  whites,  but  without  any 
regard  to  the  direction  of  the  head.  It  is  a  fact 
worthy  of  notice  that,  while  this  malady  made 
such  ravages  among  the  natives,  not  a  single 
white  man  had  the  slightest  symptom  of  it. 

A  familiar  intercourse  of  some  standing  with 
the  Pierced-nose  and  Flathead  Indians  had  now 
convinced  Captain  Bonneville  of  their  amicable 
and  inoffensive  character  ;  he  began  to  take  a 
strong  interest  in  them,  and  conceived  the  idea  of 
becoming  a  pacificator,  and  healing  the  deadly 
feud  between  them  and  the  Blackfeet,  in  which 
they  were  so  deplorably  the  sufferers.  He  pro- 
posed the  matter  to  some  of  the  leaders,  and 
urged  that  they  should  meet  the  Blackleet  chiefs 
in  a  grand  pacific  conference,  offering  to  send  two 
of  his  men  to  the  enemy's  camp  with  pipe,  to- 
bacco, and  flag  of  truce,  to  negotiate  the  proposed 
meeting. 

The  Nez  Perec's  and  Flathead  sages  upon  this 
held  a  council  of  war  of  two  days'  duration,  in 
which  there  was  abundance  of  hard  smoking  and 
long  talking,  and  both  eloquence  and  tobacco 
were  nearly  exhausted.  At  length  they  came  to 
a  decision  to  reject  the  worthy  captain's  proposi- 
tion, and  upon  pretty  substantial  grounds,  as  the 
reader  may  judge. 

"  War,"  said  the  chiefs,  "  is  a  bloody  business, 
and  full  of  evil  ;  but  it  keeps  the  eyes  of  the  chiefs 
always  open,  and  makes  the  limbs  of  the  young 
men  strong  and  supple.  In  war,  every  one  is  on 
the  alert.  If  we  see  a  trail,  we  know  it  must  be1 
an  enemy  ;  if  the  Blackfeet  come  to  us,  we  know 
it  is  for. war,  and  we  are  ready.  Peace,  on  the 
other  hand,  sounds  no  alarm  ;  the  eyes  of  the 
chiefs  are  closed  in  sleep,  and  the  young  men  are 
sleek  and  lazy.  The  horses  stray  into  the  moun- 
tains ;  the  women  and  their  little  babes  go  about 
alone.  But  the  heart  of  a  Blackfoot  is  a  lie,  and 
his  tongue  is  a  trap.  If  he  says  peace  it  is  to  de- 
ceive ;  he  comes  to  us  as  a  brother  ;  he  smokes 
his  pipe  with  us  ;  but  when  he  sees  us  weak,  and 
off  our  guard,  he  will  slay  and  steal.  We  will 
have  no  such  peace  ;  let  there  be  war  !" 

With  this  reasoning  Captain  Bonneville  was 
fain  to  acquiese  ;  but,  since  the  sagacious  Flat- 
heads  and  their  allies  were  content  to  remain  in  a 
state  of  warfare,  he  wished  them  at  least  to  ex- 
ercise the  boasted  vigilance  which  war  was  to 
produce,  and  to  keep  their  eyes  open.  He  repre- 
sented to  them  the  impossibility  that  two  such 
considerable  clans  could  move  above  the  country 
without  leaving  trails  by  which  they  might  be 
traced.  Besides,  among  the  Blackfeet  braves 
were  several  Nez  Perces,  who  had  been  taken 
prisoners  in  early  youth,  adopted  by  their  captors, 
and  trained  up  and  imbued  with  warlike  and 
predatory  notions  ;  these  had  lost  all  sympathies 


with  their  native  tribe,  and  would  be  prone  to 
lead  the  enemy  to  their  secret  haunts.  He  ex- 
horted them,  therefore,  to  keep  upon  the  alert, 
and  never  to  remit  their  vigilance  while  within 
the  range  of  so  crafty  and  cruel  a  foe.  All  these 
counsels  were  lost  upon  his  easy  and  simple-mind- 
ed hearers.  A  careless  indifference  reigned 
throughout  their  encampments,  and  their  horses 
were  permitted  to  range  the  hills  at  night  in  per- 
fect freedom.  Captain  Bonneville  had  his  own 
horses  brought  in  at  night,  and  properly  picketed 
and  guarded.  The  evil  he  apprehended  soon  took 
place.  In  a  single  night  a  swoop  was  made 
through  the  neighboring  pastures  by  the  Black- 
feet,  and  eighty-six  of  the  finest  horses  carried  off. 
A  whip  and  a  rope  were  left  in  a  conspicuous 
situation  by  the  robbers,  as  a  taunt  to  the  simple- 
tons they  had  unhorsed. 

Long  before  sunrise  the  news  of  this  calamity 
spread  like  wildfire  through  the  different  encamp- 
ments. Captain  Bonneville,  whose  own  horses 
remained  safe  at  their  pickets,  watched  in  mo- 
mentary expectation  of  an  outbreak  of  warriors, 
Pierced-nose  and  Flathead,  in  furious  pursuit  of 
the  marauders  ;  but  no  such  thing — they  content- 
ed themselves  with  searching  diligently  over  hill 
and  dale,  to  glean  up  such  horses  as  had  escaped 
the  hands  of  the  marauders,  and  then  resigned 
themselves  to  their  loss  with  the  most  exemplary 
quiescence. 

Some,  it  is  true,  who  were  entirely  unhorsed, 
set  out  on  a  begging  visit  to  their  cousins,  as  they 
call  them,  the  Lower  Nez  Perces,  who  inhabit  the 
lower  country  about  the  Columbia,  and  possess 
horses  in  abundance.  To  these  they  repair  when 
in  difficulty,  and  seldom  fail,  by  dint  of  begging 
and  bartering,  to  get  themselves  once  more 
mounted  on  horseback. 

Game  had  now  become  scarce  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  camp,  and  it  was  necessary,  accord- 
ing to  Indian  custom,  to  move  off  to  a  less  beaten 
ground.  Captain  Bonneville  proposed  the  Horse 
Prairie  ;  but  his  Indian  friends  objected  that 
many  of  the  Nez  Perces  had  gone  to  visit  their 
cousins,  and  that  the  whites  were  few  in  number, 
so  that  their  united  force  was  not  sufficient  to 
venture  upon  the  buffalo  grounds,  which  were  in- 
fested by  bands  of  Blackfeet. 

They  now  spoke  of  a  place  at  no  great  distance, 
which  they  represented  as  a  perfect  hunter's 
elysium.  It  was  on  the  right  branch,  or  head 
btream  of  the  river,  locked  up  among  cliffs  and 
precipices  where  there  was  no  danger  from  roving 
bands,  and  where  the  Blackfeet  dare  not  enter. 
Here,  they  said,  the  elk  abounded,  and  the  moun- 
tain sheep  were  to  be  seen  trooping  upon  the 
rocks  and  hills.  A  little  distance  beyond  it,  also, 
herds  of  buffalo  were  to  be  met  with,  out  of  the 
range  of  danger.  Thither  they  proposed  to  move 
their  camp. 

The  proposition  pleased  the  captain,  who  was 
desirous,  through  the  Indians,  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  all  the  secret  places  of  the  land. 
Accordingly,  on  the  gih  of  December,  they  struck 
their  tents,  and  moved  iorward  by  short  stages, 
as  many  of  the  Indians  were  yet  feeble  from  the 
late  malady. 

Following  up  the  right  fork  of  the  river  they 
came  to  where  it  entered  a  deep  gorge  of  the 
mountains,  up  which  lay  the  secluded  region  so 
much  vaunted  by  the  Indians.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville halted  and  encamped  for  three  days,  before 
entering  the  gorge.  In  the  meantime  he  de- 
tached five  of  his  free  trappers  to  scour  the  hills, 
and  kill  as  many  elk  as  possible,  before  the  main 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


297 


body  should  enter,  as  they  would  then  be  soon 
frightened  away  by  the  various  Indian  hunting 
parties. 

While  thus  encamped,  they  were  still  liable  to 
the  marauds  of  the  Blackfeet,  and  Captain  Bonne- 
ville  admonished  his  Indian  friends  to  be  upon 
their  guard.  The  Nez  Perces,  however,  notwith- 
standing their  recent  loss,  were  still  careless  of 
their  horses  ;  merely  driving  them  to  some  se- 
cluded spot,  and  leaving  them  there  for  the  night, 
without  setting  any  guard  upon  them.  The  con- 
sequence was  a  second  swoop,  in  which  forty-one 
were  carried  off.  This  was  borne  with  equal 
philosophy  with  the  first,  and  no  effort  was  made 
either  to  recover  the  horses,  or  to  take  vengeance 
on  the  thieves. 

The  Nez  Percys,  however,  grew  more  cautious 
with  respect  to  their  remaining  horses,  driving 
them  regularly  to  the  camp  every  evening,  and 
fastening  them  to  pickets.  Captain  Bonneville, 
however,  told  them  that  this  was  not  enough.  It 
was  evident  they  were  dogged  by  a  daring  and 
persevering  enemy,  who  was  encouraged  by  past 
impunity  ;  they  should,  therefore,  take  more  than 
usual  precautions,  and  post  a  guard  at  night  over 
their  cavalry.  They  could  not,  however,  be  per- 
suaded to  depart  from  their  usual  custom.  The 
horse  once  picketed,  the  care  of  the  owner  was 
.over  for  the  night,  and  he  slept  profoundly.  None 
waked  in  the  camp  but  the  gamblers,  who,  ab- 
sorbed in  their  play,  were  more  difficult  to  be 
roused  to  external  circumstances  than  even  the 
sleepers. 

The  Blackfeet  are  bold  enemies,  and  fond  of 
hazardous  exploits.  The  band  that  were  hovering 
about  the  neighborhood,  finding  they  had  such 
pacific  people  to  deal  with,  redoubled  their  dar- 
ing. The  horses  being  now  picketed  before  the 
lodges,  a  number  of  Blackfeet  scouts  penetrated 
in  the  early  part  of  the  night  into  the  very  centre 
of  the  camp.  Here  they  went  about  among  the 
lodges,  as  calmly  and  deliberately  as  if  at  home, 
quietly  cutting  loose  the  horses  that  stood  picketed 
by  the  lodges  of  their  sleeping  owners.  One  of 
these  prowlers,  more  adventurous  than  the  rest, 
approached  a  fire  round  which  a  group  of  Nez 
Perces  were  gambling  with  the  most  intense 
eagerness.  Here  he  stood  for  some  time,  muffled 
up  in  his  robe,  peering  over  the  shoulders  of  the 
players,  watching  the  changes  of  their  counte- 
nances and  the  fluctuations  of  the  game.  So  com- 
pletely engrossed  were  they,  that  the  presence  of 
this  muffled  eaves-dropper  was  unnoticed  and, 
having  executed  his  bravado,  he  retired  undis- 
covered. 

Having  cut  loose  as  many  horses  as  they  could 
conveniently  carry  off,  the  Blackfeet  scouts  re- 
joined their' comrades,  and  all  remained  patiently 
round  the  camp.  By  degrees  the  horses,  finding 
themselves  at  liberty,  took  their  route  toward  their 
customary  grazing  ground.  As  they  emerged 
from  the  camp  they  were  silently  taken  possession 
of,  until,  having  secured  about  thirty,  the  Blackfeet 
sprang  on  their  backs  and  scampered  off.  The 
clatter  of  hoofs  startled  the  gamblers  from  their 
game.  They  gave  the  alarm,  which  soon  roused 
the  sleepers  from  every  lodge.  Still  all  was 
quiescent  ;  no  marshalling  of  forces,  no  saddling 
of  steeds  and  dashing  off  in  pursuit,  no  talk  ol  ret- 
ribution lor  their  repeated  outrages.  The 
patience  ot  Captain  Bonneville  was  at  length  ex- 
hausted. He  had  played  the  part  of  a  pacificator 
without  success  ;  he  now  altered  his  tone,  and  re- 
solved, if  possible,  to  rouse  their  war  spirit. 

Accordingly,    convoking    their    chiefs,    he    in- 


veighed against  their  craven  policy,  and  urged 
the  necessity  of  vigorous  and  retributive  measures 
that  would  check  the  confidence  and  presumption 
of  their  enemies,  if  not  inspire  them  with  awe. 
For  this  purpose,  he  advised  that  a  war  party 
should  be  immediately  sent  off  on  the  trail  of  the 
marauders,  to  iollow  them,  if  necessary,  into  the 
very  heart  of  the  Blacktoot  country,  and  not  to 
leave  them  until  they  had  taken  signal  vengeance. 
Beside  this,  he  recommended  the  organization  of 
minor  war  parties,  to  make  reprisals  to  the  extent 
of  the  losses  sustained.  "  Unless  you  rouse  your- 
selves from  your  apathy,"  said  he,  "and  strike 
some  bold  and  decisive  blow,  you  will  cease  to  be 
considered  men,  or  objects  of  manly  warfare. 
The  very  squaws  and  children  ot  the  Blackfeet 
will  be  sent  against  you,  while  their  warriors  re- 
serve themselves  for  nobler  antagonists." 

This  harangue  had  evidently  a  momentary  effect 
upon  the  pride  of  the  hearers.  After  a  short 
pause,  however,  one  of  the  orators  arose.  It  was 
bad,  he  said,  to  go  to  war  for  mere  revenge.  The 
Great  Spirit  had  given  them  a  heart  for  peace,  not 
for  war.  They  had  lost  horses,  it  was  true,  but 
they  could  easily  get  others  Irom  their  cousins, 
the  Lower  Nez  Perces,  without  incurring  any  risk  ; 
whereas,  in  war  they  should  lose  men,  who  were 
not  so  readily  replaced.  As  to  their  late  losses, 
an  increased  watchfulness  would  prevent  any 
more  misfortunes  of  the  kind.  He  disapproved, 
therefore,  of  all  hostile  measures  ;  and  all  the 
other  chiefs  concurred  in  his  opinion. 

Captain  Bonneville  again  took  up  the  point. 
"  It  is  true,"  said  he,  "  the  Great  Spirit  has  given 
you  a  heart  to  love  your  friends  ;  but  he  has  also 
given  you  an  arm  to  strike  your  enemies.  Unless 
you  do  something  speedily  to  put  an  end  to  this 
continual  plundering,.  I  must  say  farewell.  As 
yet  I  have  sustained  no  loss  ;  thanks  to  the  precau- 
tions which  you  have  slighted  ;  but  my  property 
is  too  unsafe  here  ;  my  turn  will  come  next  ;  I 
and  my  people  will  share  the  contempt  you  are 
bringing  upon  yourselves,  and  will  be  thought, 
like  you,  poor-spirited  beings,  who  may  at  any 
time  be  plundered  with  impunity." 

The  conference  broke  up  with  some  signs  of 
excitement  on  the  part  of  the  Indians.  Early  the 
next  morning,  a  party  of  thirty  men  set  off  in 
pursuit  of  the  foe,  and  Captain  Bonneville  hoped 
to  hear  a  good  account  of  the  Blackfeet  marau- 
ders. To  his  disappointment,  the  war  party  came 
lagging  back  on  the  following  day,  leading  a  few 
old,  sorry,  broken-down  horses,  which  the  free- 
booters had  not  been  able  to  urge  to  sufficient 
speed.  This  effort  exhausted  the  martial  spirit, 
and  satisfied  the  wounded  pride  of  the  Nez  Perces, 
and  they  relapsed  into  their  usual  state  of  passive 
indifference. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

STORY   OF  KOSATO,   THE  RENEGADE    BLACKFOOT. 

IF  the  meekness  and  long-suffering  of  the  Pierced- 
noses  grieved  the  spirit  of  Captain  Bonneville, 
there  was  another  individual  in  the  camp  to 
whom  they  were  still  more  annoying.  This  was 
a  Blackfoot  renegado,  named  Kosato,  a  fiery  hot- 
blooded  youth  who,  with  a  beautiful  girl  of  the 
same  tribe,  had  taken  refuge  among  the  Nez 
Perec's.  Though  adopted  into  the  tribe,  he  still 
retained  the  warlike  spirit  of  his  race,  and  loathed 
the  peaceful,  inoffensive  habits  of  those  around 


298 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


him.  The  hunting  of  the  deer,  the  elk,  and  the 
buffalo,  which  was  the  height  of  their  ambition, 
was  too  tame  to  satisfy  his  wild  and  restless  na- 
ture. His  heart  burned  for  the  foray,  the  am- 
bush, the  skirmish,  the  scamper,  and  all  the  haps 
and  hazards  of  roving  and  predatory  warfare. 

The  recent  hoverings  of  the  Blackfeet  about  the 
camp,  their  nightly  prowls  and  daring  and  suc- 
cessful marauds,  had  kept  him  in  a  fever  and  a 
flutter,  like  a  hawk  in  a  cage  who  hears  his  late 
companions  swooping  and  screaming  in  wild 
liberty  above  him.  The  attempt  of  Captain 
Bonneville  to  rouse  the  war  spirit  of  the  Nez 
Percys,  and  prompt  them  to  relatiation,  was 
ardently  seconded  by  Kosato.  For  several  days 
he  was  incessantly  devising  schemes  of  vengeance, 
and  endeavoring  to  set  on  foot  an  expedition  that 
should  carry  dismay  and  desolation  into  the  Black- 
feet  towns.  All  his  art  was  exerted  to  touch  upon 
those  springs  of  human  action  with  which  he  was 
most  familiar.  He  drew  the  listening  savages 
round  him  by  his  nervous  eloquence  ;  taunted 
them  with  recitals  of  past  wrongs  and  insults  ; 
drew  glowing  pictures  of  triumphs  and  trophies 
within  their  reach  ;  recounted  tales  of  daring  and 
romantic  enterprise,  of  secret  marchings,  covert 
lurkings,  midnight  surprisals,  sackings,  burnings, 
plunderings,  scalpings  ;  together  with  the  tri- 
umphant return,  and  the  feasting  and  rejoicing  of 
the  victors.  These  wild  tales  were  intermingled 
with  the  beating  of  the  drum,  the  yell,  the  war- 
whoop  and  the  war-dance,  so  inspiring  to  Indian 
valor.  All,  however,  were  lost  upon  the  peaceful 
spirits  of  his  hearers  ;  not  a  Nez  Perce"  was  to  be 
roused  to  vengeance,  or  stimulated  to  glorious 
war.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  the  Blackfoot 
renegado  repined  at  the  mishap  which  had  severed 
him  from  a  race  of  congenial  spirits,  and  driven 
him  to  take  refuge  among  beings  so  destitute  of 
martial  fire. 

The  character  and  conduct  of  this  man  attracted 
the  attention  of  Captain  Bonneville,  and  he  was 
anxious  to  hear  the  reason  why  he  had  deserted 
his  tribe,  and  why  he  looked  back  upon  them  with 
such  deadly  hostility.  Kosato  told  him  his  own 
story  briefly  :  it  gives  a  picture  of  the  deep, 
strong  passions  that  work  in  the  bosoms  of  these 
miscalled  stoics. 

"  You  see  my  wife,"  said  he  :  "  she  is  good  ;  she 
is  beautiful — I  love  her.  Yet  she  has  been  the 
cause  of  all  my  troubles.  She  was  the  wife  of  my 
chief.  I  loved  her  more  than  he  did  ;  and  she 
knew  it.  We  talked  together  ;  we  laughed 
together  ;  we  were  always  seeking  each  other's 
society  ;  but  we  were  as  innocent  as  children. 
The  chief  grew  jealous,  and  commanded  her  to 
speak  with  me  no  more.  His  heart  became  hard 
toward  her  ;  his  jealousy  grew  more  furious.  He 
beat  her  without  cause  and  without  mercy  ;  and 
threatened  to  kill  her  outright  it  she  even  looked 
at  me.  Do  you  want  traces  of  his  fury  ?  Look  at 
that  scar  !  His  rage  against  me  was  no  less  per- 
secuting. War  parties  of  the  Crows  were  hover- 
ing round  us  ;  our  young  men  had  seen  their  trail. 
All  hearts  were  roused  for  action  ;  my  horses 
were  before  my  lodge.  Suddenly  the  chief  came, 
took  them  to  his  own  pickets,  and  called  them  his 
own.  What  could  I  do  ?  he  was  a  chief.  I  durst 
not  speak,  but  my  heart  was  burning.  I  joined 
no  longer  in  the  council,  the  hunt,  or  the  war- 
feast.  What  had  I  to  do  there  ?  an  unhorsed,  de- 
graded warrior.  I  kept  by  myself,  and  thought 
of  nothing  but  these  wrongs  and  outrages. 

"  I  was  sitting  one  evening  upon  a  knoll  that 
overlooked  the  meadow  where  the  horses  were 


pastured.  I  saw  the  horses  that  were  once  mine 
grazing  among  those  of  the  chief.  This  mad- 
dened me,  and  I  sat  brooding  for  a  time  over  the 
injuries  I  had  suffered,  and  the  cruelties  which 
she  I  loved  had  endured  for  my  sake,  until  my 
heart  swelled  and  grew  sore,  and  my  teeth  were 
clinched.  As  I  looked  down  upon  the  meadow  I 
saw  the  chief  walking  among  his  horses.  I 
fastened  my  eyes  upon  him  as  a  hawk's  ;  my 
blood  boiled  ;  1  drew  my  breath  hard.  He  went 
among  the  willows.  In  an  instant  I  was  on  my 
feet  ;  my  hand  was  on  my  knife — I  flew  rather 
than  ran — before  he  was  aware  I  sprang  upon 
him,  and  with  two  blows  laid  him  dead  at  my 
feet.  I  covered  his  body  with  earth,  and  strewed 
bushes  over  the  place  ;  then  I  hastened  to  her  I 
loved,  told  her  what  I  had  done,  and  urged  her  to 
fly  with  me.  She  only  answered  me  with  tears. 
I  reminded  her  of  the  wrongs  I  had  suffered,  and 
of  the  blows  and  stripes  she  had  endured  from  the 
deceased  ;  I  had  done  nothing  but  an  act  of  jus- 
tice. I  again  urged  her  to  fly  ;  but  she  only  wept 
the  more,  and  bade  me  go.  My  heart  was  heavy, 
but  my  eyes  were  dry.  I  folded  my  arms.  '  'Tis 
well,'  said  I  ;  '  Kosato  will  go  alone  to  the  desert. 
None  will  be  with  him  but  the  wild  beasts  of  the 
desert.  The  seekers  of  blood  may  follow  on  his 
trail.  They  may  come  upon  him  when  he  sleeps 
and  glut  their  revenge  ;  but  you  will  be  safe. 
Kosato  will  go  alone." 

"  I  turned  away.  She  sprang  after  me,  and 
strained  me  in  her  arms.  '  No,'  cried  she,  '  Ko- 
sato shall  not  go  alone  !  \Vherever  he  goes  I  will 
go — he  shall  never  part  from  me.' 

"  We  hastily  took  in  our  hands  such  things  as 
we  most  needed,  and  stealing  quietly  from  the 
village,  mounted  the  first  horses  we  encountered. 
Speeding  day  and  night,  we  soon  reached  this 
tribe.  They  received  us  with  welcome,  and  we 
have  dwelt  with  them  in  peace.  They  are  good 
and  kind  ;  they  are  honest ;  but  their  hearts  are 
the  hearts  of  women." 

Such  was  the  story  of  Kosato,  as  related  hy  him 
to  Captain  Bonneville.  It  is  of  a  kind  that  often 
occurs  in  Indian  life  ;  where  love  elopements  from 
tribe  to  tribe  are  as  frequent  as  among  the  novel- 
read  heroes  and  heroines  of  sentimental  civiliza- 
tion, and  often  give  rise  to  bloody  and  lasting 
feuds. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  PARTY  ENTERS  THE  MOUNTAIN  GORGE — A 
WILD  FASTNESS  AMONG  HILLS— MOUNTAIN 
MUTTON — PEACE  AND  PLENTY — THE  AMOROUS 
TRAPPER — A  PIEBALD  WEDDING — A  FREE 
TRAPPER'S  WIFE— HER  GALA  EQUIPMENTS — 
CHRISTMAS  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

ON  the  iQth  of  December  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  confederate  Indians  raised  their  camp, 
and  entered  the  narrow  gorge  made  by  the  north 
fork  of  Salmon  River.  Up  this  lay  the  secure  and 
plenteous  hunting  region  so  temptingly  described 
by  the  Indians. 

Since  leaving  Green  River  the  plains  had  invari- 
ably been  of  loose  sand  or  coarse  gravel,  and  the 
rocky  formation  of  the  mountains  of  primitive 
limestone.  The  rivers,  in  general,  were  skirted 
with  willows  and  bitter  cotton-wood  trees,  and  the 
prairies  covered  with  wormwood.  In  the  hollow 
breast  of  the  mountains  which  they  were  now 
penetrating,  the  surrounding  heights  were  clothed 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


299 


with  pine  ;  while  the  declivities  of  the  lower  hills 
afforded  abundance  of  bunch  grass  for  the  horses. 

As  the  Indians  had  represented,  they  were  now 
in  a  natural  fastness  of  the  mountains,  the  ingress 
and  egress  of  which  was  by  a  deep  gorge,  so  nar- 
row, rugged,  and  difficult  as  to  prevent  secret  ap- 
proach or  rapid  retreat,  and  to  admit  of  easy  de- 
fence. The  Blackfeet,  therefore,  refrained  from 
venturing  in  after  the  Nez  Percys,  awaiting  a  bet- 
ter chance,  when  they  should  once  more  emerge 
into  the  open  country. 

Captain  Bonneville  soon  found  that  the  Indians 
had  not  exaggerated  the  advantages  of  this  region. 
Besides  the  numerous  gangs  of  elk,  large  flocks  of 
the  ahsahta  or  bighorn,  the  mountain  sheep,  were 
to  be  seen  bounding  among  the  precipices.  These 
simple  animals  were  easily  circumvented  and  de- 
stroyed. Afew  hunters  may  surround  a  flock  and 
kill  as  many  as  they  please.  Numbers  were  daily- 
brought  into  camp,  and  the  flesh  of  those  which 
were  young  and  fat  was  extolled  as  superior  to 
the  finest  mutton. 

Here,  then,  there  was  a  cessation  from  toil,  from 
hunger,  and  alarm.  Past  ills  and  dangers  were 
forgotten.  The  hunt,  the  game,  the  song,  the 
story,  the  rough  though  good-humored  joke,  made 
time  pass  joyously  away,  and  plenty  and  security- 
reigned  throughout  the  camp. 

Idleness  and  ease,  it  is  said,  lead  to  love,  and 
love  to  matrimony,  in  civilized  life,  and  the  same 
process  takes  place  in  the  wilderness.  Filled  with 
good  cheer  and  mountain  mutton,  one  of  the  free 
trappers  began  to  repine  at  the  solitude  of  his 
lodge,  and  to  experience  the  force  of  that  great 
law  of  nature,  "it  is  not  meet  for  man  to  live 
alone." 

After  a  night  of  grave  cogitation  he  repaired  to 
Kowsoter,  the  Pierced-nose  chief,  and  unfolded 
to  him  the  secret  workings  of  his  bosom. 

"  I  want,"  said  he,  "  a  wife.  Give  me  one  from 
among  your  tribe.  Not  a  young,  giddy-pated  girl, 
that  will  think  of  nothing  but  flaunting  and  finery, 
but  a  sober,  discreet,  hard-working  squaw  ;  one 
that  will  share  my  lot  without  flinching,  however 
hard  it  may  be  ;  that  can  take  care  of  my  lodge, 
and  be  a  companion  and  a  helpmate  to  me  in  the 
wilderness."  Kowsoter  promised  to  look  round 
among  the  females  of  his  tribe,  and  procure  such 
a  one  as  he  desired.  Two  clays  were  requisite 
for  the  search.  At  the  expiration  of  these,  Kow- 
soter called  at  his  lodge,  and  informed  him  that  he 
would  bring  his  bride  to  him  in  the  course  of  the 
afternoon.  He  kept  his  word.  At  the  appointed 
time  he  approached,  leading  the  bride,  a  comely 
copper-colored  dame  attired  in  her  Indian  finery. 
Her  father,  mother,  brothers  by  the  half  dozen 
and  cousins  by  the  score,  all  followed  on' to  grace 
the  ceremony  and  greet  the  new  and  important 
relative. 

The  trapper  received  his  new  and  numerous 
family  connection  with  proper  solemnity  ;  he 
placed  his  bride  beside  him,  and,  filling  the  pipe, 
the  great  symbol  of  peace,  with  his  best  tobacco, 
took  two  or  three  whiffs,  then  handed  it  to  the 
chief  who  transferred  it  to  the  father  of  the  bride, 
from  whom  it  was  passed  on  from  hand  to  hand 
and  mouth  to  mouth  of  the  whole  circle  of  kins- 
men round  the.  fire,  all  maintaining  the  most  pro- 
found and  becoming  silence. 

After  several  pipes  had  been  filled  and  emptied 
in  this  solemn  ceremonial,  the  chief  addressed  the 
bride,  detailing  at  considerable  length  the  duties 
of  a  wife  which,  among  Indians,  are  little  less 
onerous  than  those  of  the  pack-horse  ;  this  done, 
he  turned  to  her  friends  and  congratulated  them 


upon  the  great  alliance  she  had  made.  They 
showed  a  due  sense  of  their  good  fortune,  espe- 
cially when  the  nuptial  presents  came  to  be  dis- 
tributed among  the  chiefs  and  relatives,  amount- 
ing to  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars.  The 
company  soon  retired,  and  now  the  worthy  trap- 
per found  indeed  that  he  had  no  green  girl  to 
deal  with  ;  for  the  knowing  dame  at  once  assumed 
the  style  and  dignity  of  a  trapper's  wife  :  taking 
possession  of  the  lodge  as  her  undisputed  empire, 
arranging  everything  according  to  her  own  taste 
and  habitudes,  and  appearing  as  much  at  home 
and  on  as  easy  terms  with  the  trapper  as  it  they 
had  been  man  and  wife  for  years. 

We  have  already  given  a  picture  of  a  free  trap- 
per and  his  horse,  as  furnished  by  Captain  Bonne- 
ville :  we  shall  here  subjoin,  as  a  companion  pic- 
ture, his  description  of  a  free  trapper's  wile,  that 
the  reader  may  have  a  correct  idea  of  the  kind  of 
blessing  the  worthy  hunter  in  question  had  invoked 
to  solace  him  in  the  wilderness. 

"  The  free  trapper,  while  a  bachelor,  has  no 
greater  pet  than  his  horse  ;  but  the  moment  he 
takes  a  wife  (a  sort  of  brevet  rank  in  matrimony 
occasionally  bestowed  upon  some  Indian  fair  one, 
like  the  heroes  of  ancient  chivalry  in  the  open 
field),  he  discovers  that  he  has  a  still  more  fanciful 
and  capricious  animal  on  which  to  lavish  his  ex- 
penses. 

"  No  sooner  does  an  Indian  belle  experience 
this  promotion,  than  all  her  notions  at  once  rise 
and  expand  to  the  dignity  of  her  situation,  and 
the  purse  of  her  lover,  and  his  credit  into  the  bar- 
gain, are  taxed  to  the  utmost  to  fit  her  out  in  be- 
coming style.  The  wife  of  a  free  trapper  to  be 
equipped  and  arrayed  like  any  ordinary  and  un- 
distinguished squaw  ?  Perish  the  grovelling 
thought  !  In  the  first  place,  she  must  have  a 
horse  for  her  own  riding  ;  but  no  jaded,  sorry, 
earth-spirited  hack,  such  as  is  sometimes  assigned 
by  an  Indian  husband  for  the  transportation  of  his 
squaw  and  herpappooses  :  the  wife  of  a  free  trap- 
per must  have  the  most  beautiful  animal  she  can 
lay  her  eyes  on.  And  then,  as  to  his  decoration  : 
headstall,  breast-bands,  saddle  and  crupper  are 
lavishly  embroidered  with  beads,  and  hung  with 
thimbles,  hawks'  bells,  and  bunches  of  ribbons. 
From  each  side  of  the  saddle  hangs  an  esquimoot, 
a  sort  of  pocket,  in  which  she  bestows  the  residue 
of  her  trinkets  and  nick-nacks,  which  cannot  be 
crowded  on  the  decoration  of  her  horse  or  herself. 
Over  this  she  folds,  with  great  care,  a  drapery  of 
scarlet  and  bright-colored  calicoes,  and  now  con- 
siders the  caparison  of  her  steed  complete. 

"  As  to  her  own  person,  she  is  even  still  more 
extravagant.  Her  hair,  esteemed  beautiful  in 
proportion  to  its  length,  is  carefully  plaited,  and 
made  to  fall  with  seeming  negligence  over  either 
breast.  Her  riding  hat  is  stuck  lull  of  party-col- 
ored feathers  ;  her  robe,  fashioned  somewhat  alter 
that  of  the  whites,  is  of  red,  green,  and  sometimes 
gray  cloth,  but  always  of  the  finest  texture  that 
can  be  procured.  Her  leggins  and  moccasins 
are  of  the  most  beautiful  and  expensive  workman- 
ship, and  fitted  neatly  to  the  foot  and  ankle,  which 
with  the  Indian  women  are  generally  well  formed 
and  delicate.  Then  as  to  jewelry  :  in  the  way  of 
finger-rings,  ear-rings,  necklaces,  and  other 
female  glories,  nothing  within  reach  of  the  trap- 
per's means  is  omitted  that  can  tend  to  impress 
the  beholder  with  an  idea  of  the  lady's  high  es- 
tate. To  finish  the  whole,  she  selects  from  among 
her  blankets  of  various  dyes  one  of  some  glowing 
color,  and  throwing  it  over  her  shoulders  with  a 
native  grace,  vaults  into  the  saddle  of  her  gay, 


300 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


prancing  steed,  and  is  ready  to  follow  her  moun- 
taineer '  to  the  last  gasp  with  love  and  loyalty.'  ' 

Such  is  the  general  picture  of  the  free  trapper's 
wife,  given  by  Captain  Bonneville  ;  how  far  it  ap- 
plied in  its  details  to  the  one  in  question  does  not 
altogether  appear,  though  it  would  seem  from  the 
outset  of  her  connubial  career,  that  she  was  ready 
to  avail  herself  of  all  the  pomp  and  circumstance 
of  her  new  condition.  It  is  worthy  of  mention 
that  wherever  there  are  several  wives  of  free  trap- 
pers in  a  camp,  the  keenest  rivalry  exists  between 
them,  to  the  sore  detriment  of  their  husbands' 
purses.  Their  whole  time  is  expended  and  their 
ingenuity  tasked  by  endeavors  to  eclipse  each 
other  in  dress  and  decoration.  The  jealousies  and 
heart-burnings  thus  occasioned  among  these  so- 
styled  children  of  nature  are  equally  intense 
with  those  ol  the  rival  leaders  of  style  and  fashion 
in  the  luxurious  abodes  of  civilized  life. 

The  genial  festival  of  Christmas,  which  through- 
out all  Christendom  lights  up  the  fireside  of  home 
with  mirth  and  jollity,  followed  hard  upon  the 
wedding  just  described.  Though  far  from  kin- 
dred and  friends,  Captain  Bonneville  and  his 
handful  of  free  trappers  were  not  disposed  to 
suffer  the  festival  to  pass  unenjoyed  ;  they  were  in 
a  region  of  good  cheer,  and  were  disposed  to  be 
joyous  ;  so  it  was  determined  to  "  light  up  the 
yule  clog,  "and  celebrate  a  merry  Christmas  in  the 
heart  ot  the  wilderness. 

On  Christmas  eve,  accordingly,  they  began  their 
rude  fetes  and  rejoicings.  In  the  course  of  the 
night  the  free  trappers  surrounded  the  lodge  ot 
the  Pierced-nose  chief  and  in  lieu  of  Christmas 
carols,  saluted  him  with  a.  feu  dc  joie. 

Kowsoter  received  it  in  a  truly  Christian  spirit, 
and  after  a  speech,  in  which  he  expressed  his  high 
gratification  at  the  honor  done  him,  invited  the 
whole  company  to  a  feast  on  the  following  day. 
His  invitation  was  gladly  accepted.  A  Christmas 
dinner  in  the  wigwam  of  an  Indian  chief !  There 
was  novelty  in  the  idea.  Not  one  failed  to  be 
present.  The  banquet  was  served  up  in  primitive 
style  :  skins  of  various  kinds,  nicely  dressed  for 
the  occasion,  were  spread  upon  the  ground  ;  upon 
these  were  heaped  up  abundance  of  venison,  elk 
meat,  and  mountain  mutton,  with  various  bitter 
roots  which  the  Indians  use  as  condiments. 

After  a  short  prayer,  the  company  all  seated 
themselves  cross-legged,  in  Turkish  fashion,  to 
the  banquet,  which  passed  off  with  great  hilarity. 
After  which  various  games  of  strength  and  agility 
by  both  white  men  and  Indians  closed  the  Christ- 
mas festivities. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A  HUNT  AFTER  HUNTERS — HUNGRY  TIMES — A 
VORACIOUS  REPAST  —  WINTRY  WEATHER  — 
GODIN'S  RIVER — SPLENDID  WINTER  SCENE  ON 
THE  GREAT  LAVA  PLAIN  OF  SNAKE  RIVER — 
SEVERE  TRAVELLING  AND  TRAMPING  IN  THE 
SNOW — MANCEUVRES  OF  A  SOLITARY  INDIAN 
HORSEMAN— ENCAMPMENT  ON  SNAKE  RIVER— 
BANNECK  INDIANS — THE  HORSE  CHIEF — HIS 
CHARMED  LIFE. 

THE  continued  absence  of  Matthieu  and  his 
party  had,  by  this  time,  caused  great  uneasiness 
in  the  mind  of  Captain  Bonneville  ;  and,  finding 
there  was  no  dependence  to  be  placed  upon  the 
perseverance  and  courage  of  scouting  parties  in  so 
perilous  a  quest,  he  determined  to  set  out  himself 


on  the  search,  and  to  keep  on  until  he  should 
ascertain  something  of  the  object  of  his  solicitude. 

Accordingly  on  the  26th  December  he  left  the 
camp,  accompanied  by  thirteen  stark  trappers  and 
hunters,  all  well  mounted  and  armed  lor  danger- 
ous enterprise.  On  the  following  morning  they 
passed  out  at  the  head  of  the  mountain  gorge  and 
sallied  forth  into  the  open  plain.  As  they  confi- 
dently expected  a  brush  with  the  Blackfeet,  or 
some  other  predatory  horde,  they  moved  with 
great  circumspection,  and  kept  vigilant  watch  in 
their  encampments. 

In  the  course  of  another  clay  they  left  the  main 
branch  of  Salmon  River,  and  proceeded  south 
toward  a  pass  called  John  Day's  defile.  It  was 
severe  and  arduous  travelling.  The  plains  were 
swept  by  keen  and  bitter  blasts  ot  wintry  wind  ; 
the  ground  was  generally  covered  with  snow, 
game  was  scarce,  so  that  hunger  generally  pre- 
vailed in  the  camp,  while  the  want  of  pasturage 
soon  began  to  manifest  itself  in  the  declining 
vigor  of  the  horses. 

The  party  had  scarcely  encamped  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  28th,  when  two  of  the  hunters  who 
had  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  game  came  galloping 
back  in  great  alarm.  While  hunting  they  had 
perceived  a  party  of  savages,  evidently  manoeu- 
vring to  cut  them  off  from  the  camp  ;  and  nothing 
had  saved  them  from  being  entrapped  but  the 
speed  of  their  horses. 

These  tidings  struck  dismay  into  the  camp. 
Captain  Bonneville  endeavored  to  reassure  his 
men  by  representing  the  position  of  their  encamp- 
ment, and  its  capability  of  defence.  He  then  or- 
dered the  horses  to  be  driven  in  and  picketed,  and 
threw  up  a  rough  breastwork  of  fallen  trunks  of 
trees  and  the  vegetable  rubbish  of  the  wilderness. 
Within  this  barrier  was  maintained  a  vigilant 
watch  throughout  the  night,  which  passed  away 
without  alarm.  At  early  dawn  they  scrutinized 
the  surrounding  plain,  to  discover  whether  any 
enemies  had  been  lurking  about  during  the 
night  ;  not  a  foot-print,  however,  was  to  be  dis- 
covered in  the  coarse  gravel  with  which  the  plain 
was  covered. 

Hunger  now  began  to  cause  more  uneasiness 
than  the  apprehensions  of  surrounding  enemies. 
After  marching  a  few  miles  they  encamped  at  the 
foot  of  a  mountain,  in  hopes  of  finding  buffalo.  It 
was  not  until  the  next  day  that  they  discovered  a 
pair  of  fine  bulls  on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  among 
rocks  and  ravines.  Having  now  been  two  clays 
and  a  half  without  a  mouthlul  of  food,  they  took 
especial  care  that  these  animals  should  not  escape 
them.  While  some  of  the  surest  marksmen  ad- 
vanced cautiously  with  their  rifles  into  the  rough 
ground,  four  of  the  best  mounted  horsemen  took 
their  stations  in  the  plain,  to  run  the  bulls  down 
should  they  only  be  maimed. 

The  buffalo  were  wounded,  and  set  off  in  head- 
long flight.  The  half-famished  horses  were  too 
weak  to  overtake  them  on  the  frozen  ground,  but 
succeeded  in  driving  them  on  the  ice,  where  they 
slipped  and  fell,  and  were  easily  dispatched.  The 
hunters  loaded  themselves  with  beef  for  present 
and  future  supply,  and  then  returned  and  en- 
camped at  the  last  night's  fire.  Here  they  passed 
the  remainder  of  the  day,  cooking  and  eating  with 
a  voracity  proportioned  to  previous  starvation, 
forgetting  in  the  hearty  revel  of  the  moment  the 
certain  dangers  with  which  they  were  environed. 

The  cravings  of  hunger  being  satisfied,  they 
now  began  to  debate  about  their  further  progress. 
The  men  were  much  disheartened  by  the  hardships 
they  had  already  endured.  Indeed,  two  who  had 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


301 


been  in  the  rear  guard,  taking  advantage  of  their 
position,  had  deserted  and  returned  to  the  lodges 
of  the  Nez  Perces.  The  prospect  ahead  was 
enough  to  stagger  the  stoutest  heart.  They  were 
in  the  dead  ot  winter.  As  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach  the  wild  landscape  was  wrapped  in  snow, 
which  was  evidently  deepening  as  they  advanced. 
Over  this  they  would  have  to  toil,  with  the  icy 
wind  blowing  in  their  faces  :  their  horses  might 
give  out  through  want  of  pasturage,  and  they 
themselves  must  expect  intervals  of  horrible 
famine  like  that  they  had  already  experienced. 

With  Captain  Bonneville,  however,  persever- 
ance was  a  matter  of  pride  ;  and,  having  under- 
taken this  enterprise,  nothing  could  turn  him  back 
until  it  was  accomplished  :  though  he  declares 
that,  had  he  anticipated  the  difficulties  and  suffer- 
ings which  attended  it,  he  should  have  flinched 
from  the  undertaking. 

Onward,  therefore,  the  little  band  urged  their 
way,  keeping  along  the  course  of  a  stream  called 
John  Day's  Creek.  The  cold  was  so  intense  that 
they  had  frequently  to  dismount  and  travel  on 
foot,  lest  they  should  freeze  in  their  saddles.  The 
days  which  at  this  season  are  short  enough  even 
in  the  open  prairies,  were  narrowed  to  a  few  hours 
by  the  high  mountains,  which  allowed  the  travel- 
lers but  a  brief  enjoyment  of  the  cheering  rays  of 
the  sun.  The  snow  was  generally  at  least 
twenty  inches  in  depth,  and  in  many  places  much 
more  :  those  who  dismounted  had  to  beat  their 
way  with  toilsome  steps.  Eight  miles  were  con- 
sidered a  good  day's  journey.  The  horses  were 
almost  famished  ;  for  the  herbage  was  covered  by 
the  deep  snow,  so  that  they  had  nothing  to  subsist 
upon  but  scanty  wisps  of  the  dry  bunch  grass 
which  peered  above  the  surface,  and  the  small 
branches  and  twigs  of  frozen  willows  and  worm- 
wood. 

In  this  way  they  urged  their  slow  and  painful 
course  to  the  south  down  John  Day's  Creek,  until 
it  lost  itself  in  a  swamp.  Here  they  encamped 
upon  the  ice  among  stiffened  willows,  where  they 
were  obliged  to  beat  clown  and  clear  away  the 
snow  to  procure  pasturage  for  their  horses. 

Hence,  they  toiled  on  to  Godin  River  ;  so  called 
after  an  Iroquois  hunter  in  the  service  of  Sub- 
lette,  who  was  murdered  there  by  the  Blackfeet. 
Many  of  the  features  of  this  remote  wilderness  are 
thus  named  after  scenes  ot  violence  and  bloodshed 
that  occurred  to  the  early  pioneers.  It  was  an 
act  of  filial  vengeance  on  the  part  ot  Godin's  son 
Antoine  that,  as  the  reader  may  recollect, 
brought  on  the  recent  battle  at  Pierre's  Hole. 

Form  Godin's  River,  Captain  Bonneville  and 
his  followers  came  out  upon  the  plain  of  the  Three 
Butes,  so  called  from  three  singular  and  isolated 
hills  that  rise  from  the  midst.  It  is  a  part  of  the 
great  desert  of  Snake  River,  one  of  the  most  re- 
markable tracts  beyond  the  mountains.  Could 
they  have  experienced  a  respite  from  their  suffer- 
ings and  anxieties,  the  immense  landscape  spread 
out  before  them  was  calculated  to  inspire  admira- 
tion. Winter  has  its  beauties  and  glories  as 
well  as  summer  ;  and  Captain  Bonneville  had  the 
soul  to  appreciate  them. 

Far  away,  says  he,  over  the  vast  plains,  and 
up  the  steep  sides  of  the  lofty  mountains,  the 
snow  lay  spread  in  dazzling  whiteness  :  and 
whenever  the  sun  emerged  in  the  morning  above 
the  giant  peaks,  or  burst  forth  from  among  clouds 
in  his  mid-day  course,  mountain  and  dell,  glazed 
rock  and  frosted  tree,  glowed  and  sparkled  with 
surpassing  lustre.  The  tall  pines  seemed 
sprinkled  with  a  silver  dust,  and  the  willows, 


studded  with  minute  icicles  reflecting  the  pris- 
matic rays,  brought  to  mind  the  fairy  trees  con- 
jured up  by  the  caliph's  story-teller  to  adorn  his 
vale  of  diamonds. 

The  poor  wanderers,  however,  nearly  starved 
with  hunger  and  cold,  were  in  no  mood  to  enjoy 
the  glories  of  these  brilliant  scenes  ;  though  they 
stamped  pictures  on  their  memory  which  have 
been  recalled  with  delight  in  more  genial  situa- 
tions. 

Encamping  at  the  west  Bute,  they  found  a  place 
swept  by  the  winds,  so  that  it  was  bare  of  snow, 
and  there  was  abundance  of  bunch  grass.  Here 
the  horses  were  turned  loose  to  graze  throughout 
the  night.  Though  for  once  they  had  ample  pas- 
urage,  yet  the  keen  winds  were  so  intense  that, 
in  the  morning,  a  mule  was  found  frozen  to  death. 
The  trappers  gathered  round  and  mourned  over 
him  as  over  a  cherished  friend.  They  feared  their 
half-famished  horses  would  soon  share  his  fate, 
for  there  seemed  scarce  blood  enough  left  in  their 
veins  to  withstand  the  freezing  cold.  To  beat  the 
way  further  through  the  snow  with  these  enfeebled 
animals  seemed  next  to  impossible  ;  and  despond- 
ency began  to  creep  over  their  hearts,  when,  for- 
tunately, they  discovered  a  trail  made  by  some 
hunting  party.  Into  this  they  immediately  entered, 
and  proceeded  with  less  difficulty.  Shortly  after- 
ward, a  fine  buffalo  bull  came  bounding  across 
the  snow  and  was  instantly  brought  clown  by  the 
hunters.  A  fire  was  soon  blazing  and  crackling, 
and  an  ample  repast  soon  cooked,  and  sooner  dis- 
patched ;  after  which  they  made  some  further 
progress  and  then  encamped.  One  of  the  men 
reached  the  camp  nearly  frozen  to  death  ;  but 
good  cheer  and  a  blazing  fire  gradually  restored 
life,  and  put  his  blood  in  circulation. 

Having  now  a  beaten  path,  they  proceeded  the 
next  morning  with  more  facility  ;  indeed,  the 
snow  decreased  in  depth  as  they  receded  from  the 
mountains,  and  the  temperature  became  more 
mild.  In  the  course  of  the  day  they  discovered  a 
solitary  horseman  hovering  at  a  distance  before 
them  on  the  plain.  They  spurred  on  to  overtake 
him  ;  but  he  was  better  mounted  on  a  fresher 
steed,  and  kept  at  a  wary  distance,  reconnoitring 
them  with  evident  distrust  ;  for  the  wild  dress  of 
the  free  trappers,  their  leggins,  blankets,  and 
cloth  caps  garnished  with  fur  and  topped  off  with 
feathers,  even  their  very  elf-locks  and  weather- 
bronzed  complexions,  gave  them  the  look  of  In- 
dians rather  than  white  men,  and  made  him  mis- 
take them  for  a  war  party  of  some  hostile  tribe. 

After  much  manoeuvring,  the  wild  horseman 
was  at  length  brought  to  a  parley  ;  but  even  then 
he  conducted  himself  with  the  caution  of  a  know- 
ing prowler  of  the  prairies.  Dismounting  from 
his  horse,  and  using  him  as  a  breastwork,  he 
levelled  his  gun  across  his  back,  and,  thus  pre- 
pared for  defence  like  a  wary  cruiser  upon  the 
high  seas,  he  permitted  himself  to  be  approached 
within  speaking  distance. 

He  proved 'to  be  an  Indian  of  the  Banneck  tribe, 
belonging  to  a  band  at  no  great  distance.  It  was 
some  time  before  he  could  be  persuaded  that  he 
was  conversing  with  a  party  of  white  men,  and 
induced  to  lay  aside  his  reserve  and  join  them. 
He  then  gave  them  the  interesting  intelligence 
that  there  were  two  companies  of  white  men  en- 
camped in  the  neighborhood.  This  was  cheering 
news  to  Captain  Bonneville  ;  who  hoped  to  find 
in  one  of  them  the  long-sought  party  of  Matthieu. 
Pushing  forward,  therefore,  with  renovated 
spirits,  he  reached  Snake  River  by  nightfall,  and 
there  fixed  his  encampment. 


302 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


Early  the  next  morning  (i3th  January,  1833), 
diligent  search  was  made  about  the  neighborhood 
for  traces  of  the  reported  parties  of  white  men. 
An  encampment  was  soon  discovered  about  four 
miles  further  up  the  river,  in  which  Captain 
Bonneville  to  his  great  joy  found  two  of  Mat- 
thieu's  men,  from  whom  he  learned  that  the  rest 
of  his  party  would  be  there  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days.  It  was  a  matter  of  great  pride  and  self- 
gratulation  to  Captain  Bonneville  that  he  had  thus 
accomplished  his  dreary  and  doubtful  enterprise  ; 
and  he  determined  to  pass  some  time  in  this  en- 
campment, both  to  await  the  return  of  Matthieu, 
and  to  give  needful  repose  to  men  and  horses. 

It  was,  in  fact,  one  of  the  most  eligible  and  de- 
lightful wintering  grounds  in  that  whole  range  of 
country.  The  Snake  River  here  wound  its  devi- 
ous way  between  low  banks  through  the  great 
plain  of  the  Three  Butes  ;  and  was  bordered  by- 
wide  and  fertile  meadows.  It  was  studded  with 
islands  which,  like  the  alluvial  bottoms,  were 
covered  with  groves  of  cotton-wood,  thickets  of 
willow,  tracts  of  good  lowland  grass,  and  abun- 
dance of  green  rushes.  The  adjacent  plains  were 
so  vast  in  extent  that  no  single  band  of  Indians 
could  drive  the  buffalo  out  of  them  ;  nor  was  the 
snow  of  sufficient  depth  to  give  any  serious  incon- 
venience. Indeed,  during  the  sojourn  of  Captain 
Bonneville  in  this  neighborhood,  which  was  in  the 
heart  of  winter,  he  found  the  weather,  with  the 
exception  of  a  few  cold  and  stormy  clays,  gener- 
ally mild  and  pleasant,  freezing  a  little  at  night 
but  invariably  thawing  with  the  morning's  sun — 
resembling  the  spring  weather  in  the  middle  parts 
of  the  United  States. 

The  lofty  range  of  the  Three  Tetons,  those  great 
landmarks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  rising  in  the 
east  and  circling  away  to  the  north  and  west  of 
the  great  plain  of  Snake  River,  and  the  moun- 
tains of  Salt  River  and  Portneuf  toward  the  south, 
catch  tne  earliest  falls  of  snow.  Their  white 
robes  lengthen  as  the  winter  advances,  and  spread 
themselves  far  into  the  plain,  driving  the  buffalo 
in  herds  to  the  banks  of  the  river' in  quest  of  foud  ; 
where  they  are  easily  slain  in  great  numbers. 

Such  were  the  palpable  advantages  of  this  winter 
encampment  ;  added  to  which,  it  was  secure  from 
the  prowlings  and  plunderings  of  any  petty  band 
of  roving  Blackfeet,  the  difficulties  of  retreat  ren- 
dering it  unwise  for  those  crafty  depredators  to 
venture  an  attack  unless  with  an  overpowering 
force. 

About  ten  miles  below  the  encampment  lay  the 
Banneck  Indians  ;  numbering  about  one  hundred 
and  twenty  lodges.  They  are  brave  and  cunning 
warriors  and  deadly  foes  of  the  Blackfeet,  whom 
they  easily  overcome  in  battles  where  their  forces 
are  equal.  They  are  not  vengeful  and  enterpris- 
ing in  warfare,  however  ;  seldom  sending  war 
parties  to  attack  the  Blackfeet  towns,  but  con- 
tenting themselves  with  defending  their  own  ter- 
ritories and  house.  About  one  third  of  their  war- 
riors are  armed  with  fusees,  the  rest  with  bows 
and  arrows. 

As  soon  as  the  spring  opens  they  move  down 
the  right  bank  of  Snake  River  and  encamp  at  the 
heads  of  the  Boisee  and  Payette.  Here  their 
horses  wax  fat  on  good  pasturage,  while  the  tribe 
revels  in  plenty  upon  the  flesh  of  deer,  elk,  bear, 
and  beaver.  They  then  descend  a  little  further, 
and  are  met  by  the  Lower  Nez  Perces,  with  whom 
they  trade  for  horses  ;  giving  in  exchange  beaver, 
buffalo,  and  buffalo  robes.  Hence  they  strike 
upon  the  tributary  streams  on  the  left  bank  of 
Snake  River,  and  encamp  at  the  rise  of  the  Port- 


neuf and  Blackfoot  streams,  in  the  buffalo  range. 
Their  horses,  although  of  the  Nez  Perce"  breed, 
are  inferior  to  the  parent  stock  from  being  ridden 
at  too  early  an  age,  being  often  bought  when  but 
two  years  old  and  immediately  put  to  hard  work. 
They  have  fewer  horses,  also,  than  most  of  these 
migratory  tribes. 

At  the  time  that  Captain  Bonneville  came  into 
the  neighborhood  of  these  Indians,  they  were  all 
in  mourning  for  their  chief,  surnamed  The  Horse. 
This  chief  was  said  to  possess  a  charmed  life,  or 
rather,  to  be  invulnerable  to  lead  ;  no  bullet  hav- 
ing ever  hit  him,  though  he  had  been  in  repeated 
battles,  and  often  shot  at  by  the  surest  marks- 
men. He  had  shown  great  magnanimity  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  white  men.  One  of  the  great 
men  of  his  family  had  been  slain  in  an  attack 
upon  a  band  of  trappers  passing  through  the  ter- 
ritories of  his  tribe.  Vengeance  had  been  sworn 
by  the  Bannecks  ;  but  The  Horse  interfered,  de- 
claring himself  the  friend  of  white  men  and, 
having  great  influence  and  authority  among  his 
people,  he  compelled  them  to  forego  all  vindic- 
tive plans  and  to  conduct  themselves  amicably 
whenever  they  came  in  contact  with  the  traders. 

This  chief  had  bravely  fallen  in  resisting  an  at- 
tack made  by  the  Blackfeet  upon  his  tribe,  while 
encamped  at  the  head  of  Godin  River.  His 
fall  in  nowise  lessened  the  faith  of  his  people  in 
his  charme'd  life  ;  for  they  declared  that  it  was 
not  a  bullet  which  laid  him  low,  but  a  bit  of  horn 
which  had  been  shot  into  him  by  some  Blackfoot 
marksman  aware,  no  doubt,  ol  the  inefficacy  of 
lead.  Since  his  death  there  was  no  one  with 
sufficient  influence  over  the  tribe  to  restrain  the 
wild  and  predatory  propensities  of  the  young 
men.  The  consequence  was  they  had  become 
troublesome  and  dangerous  neighbors,  openly 
friendly  for  the  sake  of  traffic,  but  disposed  to 
commit  secret  depredations  and  to  molest  any 
small  party  that  might  fall  within  their  reach. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MISADVENTURES  OF  MATTHIEU  AND  HIS  PARTY 
— RETURN  TO  THE  CACHES  AT  SALMON  RIVER 
— BATTLE  BETWEEN  NEZ  PERCES  AND  BLACK- 
FEET — HEROISM  OF  A  NEZ  PERCE  WOMAN — 
ENROLLED  AMONG  THE  BRAVES. 

ON  the  3d  of  February  Matthieu,  with  the  res- 
idue of  his  band,  arrived  in  camp.  He  had  a 
disastrous  story  to  relate.  After  parting  with 
Captain  Bonneville  in  Green  River  valley  he  had 
proceeded  to  the  westward,  keeping  to  the  north 
of  the  Eutaw  Mountains,  a  spur  of  the  great 
Rogky  chain.  Here  he  experienced  the  most 
rugged  travelling  for  his  horses,  and  soon  discov- 
ered that  there  was  but  little  chance  of  meeting 
the  Shoshonie  bands.  He  now  proceeded  along 
Bear  River,  a  stream  much  frequented  by  trap- 
pers, intending  to  shape  his  course  to  Salmon 
River  to  rejoin  Captain  Bonneville. 

He  was  misled,  however,  either  through  the 
ignorance  or  treachery  of  an  Indian  guide,  and 
conducted  into  a  wild  valley  where  he  lay  en- 
camped during  the  autumn  and  the  early  part  of 
the  winter,  nearly  buried  in  snow  and  almost 
starved.  Early  in  the  season  he  detached  five 
men,  with  nine  horses,  to  proceed  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Sheep  Rock,  on  Bear  River,  where 
game  was  plenty,  and  there  to  procure  a  supply 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


303 


for  the  camp.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  on 
their  expedition  when  their  trail  was  discovered 
by  a  party  of  nine  or  ten  Indians,  who  immedi- 
ately commenced  a  lurking  pursuit,  dogging  them 
secretly  tor  five  or  six  days.  So  long  as  their  en- 
campments were  well  chosen  and  a  proper  watch 
maintained  the  wary  savages  kept  aloof  ;  at 
length,  observing  that  they  were  badly  encamped, 
in  a  situation  where  they  might  be  approached 
with  secrecy,  the  enemy  crept  stealthily  along 
under  cover  of  the  river  bank,  preparing  to  burst 
suddenly  upon  their  prey. 

They  had  not  advanced  within  strikiug  distance, 
however,  before  they  were  discovered  by  one  of  the 
trappers.  He  immediately  but  silently  gave  the 
alarm  to  his  companions.  They  all  sprang  upon 
their  horses  and  prepared  to  retreat  to  a  safe  po- 
sition. One  of  the  party,  however,  named  Jen- 
nings, doubted  the  correctness  of  the  alarm,  and 
before  he  mounted  his  horse  wanted  to  ascertain 
the  fact.  His  companions  urged  him  to  mount, 
but  in  vain  ;  he  was  incredulous  and  obstinate. 
A  volley  of  firearms  by  the  savages  dispelled  his 
doubts,  but  so  overpowered  his  nerves  that  he 
was  unable  to  get  into  his  saddle.  His  comrades, 
seeing  his  peril  and  confusion,  generously  leaped 
from  their  horses  to  protect  him.  A  shot  from  a 
rifle  brought  him  to  the  earth  ;  in  his  agony  he 
called  upon  the  others  not  to  desert  him.  Two  of 
them,  Le  Roy  and  Ross,  after  fighting  desperate- 
ly, were  captured  by  the  savages  ;  the  remaining 
two  vaulted  into  their  saddles  and  saved  them- 
selves by  headlong  flight,  being  pursued  for  near- 
ly thirty  miles.  They  got  safe  back  to  Matthieu's 
camp,  where  their  story  inspired  such  dread  of 
lurking  Indians  that  the  hunters  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  to  undertake  another  foray  in 
quest  of  provisions.  They  remained,  therefore, 
almost  starving  in  their  camp  ;  now  and  then  kill- 
ing an  old  or  disabled  horse  for  food,  while  the 
elk  and  the  mountain  sheep  roamed  unmolested 
among  the  surrounding  mountains. 

The  disastrous  surprisal  of  this  hunting  party 
is  cited  by  Captain  Bonneville  to  show  the  impor- 
tance of  vigilant  watching  and  judicious  encamp- 
ments in  the  Indian  country.  Most  of  this  kind 
of  disasters  to  traders  and  trappers  arise  from 
some  careless  inattention  to  the  state  of  their  arms 
and  ammunition,  the  placing  of  their  horses  at 
night,  the  position  of  their  camping  ground,  and 
the  posting  of  their  night  watches.  The  Indian  is 
a  vigilant  and  crafty  foe,  by  no  means  given  to 
hair-brained  assaults  ;  he  seldom  attacks  when  he 
finds  his  foe  well  prepared  and  on  the  alert.  Cau- 
tion is  at  least  as  efficacious  a  protection  against 
him  as  courage. 

The  Indians  who  made  this  attack  were  at  first 
supposed  to  be  Blackfeet  ;  until  Captain  Bonne- 
ville found  subsequently,  in  the  camp  of  the  Ban- 
necks,  a  horse,  saddle,  and  bridle,  which  he  rec- 
ognized as  having  belonged  to  one  of  the  hunters. 
The  Bannecks,  however,  stoutly  denied  having 
taken  these  spoils  in  fight,  and  persisted  in 
affirming  that  the  outrage  had  been  perpetrated 
by  a  Blackfoot  band. 

Captain  Bonneville  remained  on  Snake  River 
nearly  three  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  Matthieu 
and  his  party.  At  length  his  horses  having  re- 
covered strength  sufficient  for  a  journey,  he  pre- 
pared to  return  to  the  Nez  Percys,  or  rather  to 
visit  his  caches  on  Salmon  River  ;  that  he  might 
take  thence  goods  and  equipments  for  the  opening 
season.  Accordingly,  leaving  sixteen  men  at 
Snake  River,  he  set  out  on  the  igth  of  February 
with  sixteen  others  on  his  journey  to  the  caches. 


Fording  the  river,  he  proceeded  to  the  borders 
of  the  deep  snow,  when  he  encamped  under  the 
lee  of  immense  piles  of  burned  rock.  On  the  2ist 
he  was  again  floundering  through  the  snow,  on 
the  great  Snake  River  plain,  where  it  lay  to  the 
depth  of  thirty  inches,  it  was  sufficiently  incrust- 
ed  to  bear  a  pedestrian,  but  the  poor  horses  broke 
through  the  crust,  and  plunged  and  strained  at 
every  step.  So  lacerated  were  they  by  the  ice 
that  it  was  necessary  to  change  the  front  every 
hundred  yards,  and  put  a  different  one  in  ad- 
vance to  break  the  way.  The  open  prairies 
were  swept  by  a  piercing  and  biting  wind  from 
the  northwest.  At  night,  they  had  to  task  their 
ingenuity  to  provide  shelter  and  keep  from  freez- 
ing. In  the  first  place,  they  dug  deep  holes  in 
the  snow,  piling  it  up  in  ramparts  to  windward 
as  a  protection  against  the  blast.  Beneath  these 
they  spread  buffalo  skins,  upon  which  they 
stretched  themselves  in  full  dress,  with  caps, 
cloaks,  and  moccasins,  and  covered  themselves 
with  numerous  blankets  ;  notwithstanding  all 
which  they  were  often  severely  pinched  with  the 
cold. 

On  the  28th  of  February  they  arrived  on  the 
banks  of  Godin  River.  This  stream  emerges  from 
the  mountains  opposite  an  eastern  branch  of  the 
Malade  River,  running  southeast,  forms  a  deep 
and  swift  current  about  twenty  yards  wide,  pass- 
ing rapidly  through  a  defile  to  which  it  gives  its 
name,  and  then  enters  the  great  plain  where, 
after  meandering  about  forty  miles,  it  is  finally 
lost  in  the  region  of  the  Burned  Rocks. 

On  the  banks  of  this  river  Captain  Bonneville 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  come  upon  a  buffalo  trail. 
Following  it  up,  he  entered  the  defile,  where  he 
remained  encamped  for  two  days  to  allow  the 
hunters  time  to  kill  and  dry  a  supply  of  buffalo 
beef.  In  this  sheltered  defile  the  weather  was 
moderate  and  grass  was  already  sprouting  more 
than  an  inch  in  height.  There  was  abundance, 
too,  of  the  salt  weed,  which  grows  most  plentiful 
in  clayey  and  gravelly  barrens.  It  resembles  pen- 
nyroyal, and  derives  its  name  from  a  partial  salt- 
ness.  It  is  a  nourishing  food  for  the  horses  in 
the  winter,  but  they  reject  it  the  moment  the 
young  grass  affords  sufficient  pasturage. 

On  the  6th  of  March,  having  cured  sufficient 
meat,  the  party  resumed  their  march,  and  moved 
on  with  comparative  ease,  excepting  where  they 
had  to  make  their  way  through  snow-drifts  which 
had  been  piled  up  by  the  wind. 

On  the.  nth,  a  small  cloud  of  smoke  was  ob- 
served rising  in  a  deep  part  of  the  defile.  An  en- 
campment was  instantly  formed,  and  scouts  were 
sent  out  to  reconnoitre.  They  returned  with  in- 
telligence that  it  was  a  hunting  party  of  Flat- 
heads  returning  from  the  buffalo  range  laden 
with  meat.  Captain  Bonneville  joined  them  the 
next  day,  and  persuaded  them  to  proceed  with  his 
party  a  few  miles  below  to  the  caches,  whither  he 
proposed  also  to  invite  the  Nez  Perces,  whom  he 
hoped  to  find  somewhere  in  this  neighborhood. 
In  fact,  on  the  ijth,  he  was  rejoined  by  that 
friendly  tribe  who,  since  he  separated  from  them 
on  Salmon  River,  had  likewise  been  out  to  hunt 
the  buffalo,  but  had  continued  to  be  haunted  and 
harassed  by  their  old  enemies  the  Blackfeet,  who, 
as  usual,  had  contrived  to  carry  off  many  of  their 
horses. 

In  the  course  of  this  hunting  expedition,  a  small 
band  of  ten  lodges  separated  from  the  main  body 
in  search  of  better  pasturage  for  their  horses. 
About  the  1st  of  March,  the  scattered  parties  of 
Blackfoot  banditti  united  to  the  number  of  three 


304 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


hundred  fighting  men,  and  determined  upon 
some  signal  bow.  Proceeding  to  the  former  camp- 
ing ground  of  the  Nez  Percys,  they  found  the 
lodges  deserted  ;  upon  \vhich  they  hid  them- 
selves among  the  willows  and  thickets,  watching 
for  some  straggler  who  might  guide  them  to  the 
present  "  whereabout"  of  their  intended  victims. 
As  fortune  would  have  it  Kosato,  the  Blackfoot 
renegade,  was  the  first  to  pass  along,  accom- 
panied by  his  blood-bought  bride.  He  was  on 
his  way  from  the  main  body  of  hunters  to  the  lit- 
tle band  of  ten  lodges.  The  Blackfeet  knew  and 
marked  him  as  he  passed  ;  he  was  within  bowshot 
of  their  ambuscade  ;  yet,  much  as  they  thirsted 
for  his  blood,  they  forbore  to  launch  a  shaft  ; 
sparing  him  for  the  moment  that  he  might  lead 
them  to  their  prey.  Secretly  following  his  trail, 
they  discovered  the  lodges  of  the  unfortunate  Nez 
Perec's,  and  assailed  them  with  shouts  and  yell- 
ings.  The  Nez  Percys  numbered  only  twenty 
men,  and  but  nine  were  armed  with  fusees.  They 
showed  themselves,  however,  as  brave  and  skilful 
in  war  as  they  had  been  mild  and  long-suffering 
in  peace.  Their  first  care  was  to  dig  holes  inside 
of  their  lodges  ;  thus  ensconced  they  fought  des- 
perately, laying  several  of  the  enemy  dead  upon 
the  ground  ;  while  they,  though  some  of  them 
were  wounded,  lost  not  a  single  warrior. 

During  the  heat  of  the  battle,  a  woman  of  the 
Nez  Perce's,  seeing  her  warrior  badly  wounded 
and  unable  to  fight,  seized  his  bow  and  arrows, 
and  bravely  and  successfully  defended  his  person, 
contributing  to  the  safety  of  the  whole  party. 

In  another  part  of  the  field  of  action,  a  Nez 
Perce"  had  crouched  behind  the  trunk  of  a  fallen 
tree,  and  kept  up  a  galling  fire  from  his  covert.  A 
Blackfoot  seeing  this,  procured  a  round  log,  and 
placing  it  before  him  as  he  lay  prostrate,  rolled  it 
forward  toward  the  trunk  of  the  tree  behind  which 
his  enemy  lay  crouched.  It  was  a  moment  of 
breathless  interest ;  whoever  first  showed  him- 
self would  be  in  danger  of  a  shot.  The  Nez  Perce" 
put  an  end  to  the  suspense.  The  moment  the 
logs  touched  he  sprang  upon  his  feet  and  dis- 
charged the  contents  of  his  fusee  into  the  back  of 
his  antagonist.  By  this  time  the  Blackfeet  had 
got  possession  of  the  horses  several  of  their  war- 
riors lay  dead  on  the  field,  and  the  Nez  Perce's, 
ensconced  in  their  lodges,  seemed  resolved  to  de- 
fend themselves  to  the  last  gasp.  It  so  happened 
that  the  chief  of  the  Blackfeet  party  was  a  rene- 
gade from  the  Nez  Perce's  ;  unlike  Kosato,  how- 
ever, he  had  no  vindictive  rage  against  his  native 
tribe,  but  was  rather  disposed,  now  he  had  got 
the  booty,  to  spare  all  unnecessary  effusion  of 
blood.  He  held  a  long  parley,  therefore,  with 
the  besieged,  and  finally  drew  off  his  warriors, 
taking  with  him  seventy  horses.  It  appeared, 
afterward,  that  the  bullets  of  the  Blackfeet  had 
been  entirely  expended  in  the  course  of  the  battle, 
so  that  they  were  obliged  to  make  use  of  stones 
as  substitute. 

At  the  outset  of  the  fight  Kosato,  the  renegade, 
fought  with  fury  rather  than  valor,  animating 
the  others  by  word  as  well  as  deed.  A  wound  in 
the  head  from  a  rifle  ball  laid  him  senseless  on  the 
earth.  There  his  body  remained  when  the  battle 
was  over,  and  the  victors  were  leading  off  the 
horses.  His  wife  hung  over  him  with  frantic 
lamentations.  The  conquerors  paused  and  urged 
her  to  leave  the  lifeless  renegade,  and  return  with 
them  to  her  kindred.  She  refused  to  listen  to 
their  solicitations,  and  they  passed  on.  As  she 
sat  watching  the  features  of  Kosato,  and  giving 
•way  to  passionate  grief,  she  thought  she  perceived 


him  to  breathe.  She  was  not  mistaken.  The 
ball,  which  had  been  nearly  spent  before  it  struck 
him,  had  stunned  instead  of  killing  him.  By  the 
ministry  of  his  faithful  wife  he  gradually  recov- 
ered, reviving  to  a  redoubled  love  for  her,  and 
hatred  of  his  tribe. 

As  to  the  female  who  had  so  bravely  defended 
her  husband,  she  was  elevated  by  the  tribe  to  a 
rank  far  above  her  sex,  and  beside  other  honora- 
ble distinctions,  was  thenceforward  permitted  to 
take  a  part  in  the  war  dances  of  the  braves  ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OPENING  OF  THE  CACHES  —  DETACHMENTS  OF 
CERRE  AND  HODGKISS— SALMON  RIVER  MOUN- 
TAINS— SUPERSTITION  OF  AN  INDIAN  TRAPPER 
— GODIN'S  RIVER— PREPARATIONS  FOR  TRAP- 
PING  AN  ALARM — AN  INTERRUPTION — A  RIVAL 

BAND — PHENOMENA  OF  SNAKE  RIVER  PLAIN — 
VAST  CLEFTS  AND  CHASMS— INGULFED  STREAMS 
— SUBLIME  SCENERY  —  A  GRAND  BUFFALO 
HUNT. 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  found  his  caches  perfect- 
ly secure,  and  having  secretly  opened  them  he 
selected  such  articles  as  were  necessary  to  equip 
the  free  trappers  and  to  supply  the  inconsidera- 
ble trade  with  the  Indains,  alter  which  he  closed 
them  again.  The  free  trappers,  being  newly  rigged 
out  and  supplied,  were  in  high  spirits,  and  swag- 
gerd  gayly  about  the  camp.  To  compensate  all 
hands  for  past  sufferings,  and  to  give  a  cheerful 
spur  to  further  operations,  Captain  Bonneville 
now  gave  the  men  what,  in  frontier  phrase,  is 
termed  "a  regular  blow  out."  It  was  a  day  of 
uncouth  gambols  and  frolics  and  rude  feasting. 
The  Indians  joined  in  the  sports  and  games,  and 
all  was  mirth  and  good-fellowship. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  March,  and  Captain 
Bonneville  made  preparations  to  open  the  spring 
campaign.  He  had  pitched  upon  Malade  River 
for  his  main  trapping  ground  for  the  season. 
This  is  a  stream  which  rises  among  the  great  bed 
of  mountains  north  of  the  Lava  Plain,  and  after  a 
winding  course  falls  into  Snake  River.  Previous 
to  his  departure  the  captain  dispatched  Mr.  Cerre", 
with  a  few  men,  to  visit  the  Indian  villages  and 
purchase  horses  ;  he  furnished  his  clerk,  Mr. 
Hodgkiss,  also,  with  a  small  stock  of  goods,  to 
keep  up  a  trade  with  the  Indians  during  the 
spring,  for  such  peltries  as  they  might  collect,  ap- 
pointing the  caches  on  Salmon  River  as  the  point 
of  rendezvous,  where  they  were  to  rejoin  him  on 
the  1 5th  of  June  following. 

This  done  he  set  out  for  Malade  River,  with  a 
band  of  twenty-eight  men  composed  of  hired  and 
free  trappers  and  Indian  hunters,  together  with 
eight  squaws.  Their  route  lay  up  along  the  right 
fork  of  Salmon  River,  as  it  passes  through  the 
deep  defile  of  the  mountains.  They  travelled 
very  slowly,  not  above  five  miles  a  clay,  lor  many 
of  the  horses  were  so  weak  thut  they  faltered 
and  staggered  as  they  walked.  Pasturage,  how- 
ever, was  now  growing  plentiful.  There  was 
abundance  of  fresh  grass,  which  in  some  places 
had  attained  such  height  as  to  wave  in  the  wind. 
The  native  flocks  of  the  wilderness,  the  mountain 
sheep,  as  they  are  called  by  the  trappers,  were 
continually  to  be  seen  upon  the  hills  between 
which  they  passed,  and  a  good  supply  of  mutton 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


305 


was  provided  by  the  hunters,  as  they  were  ad- 
vancing toward  a  region  of  scarcity. 

In  the  course  of  his  journey  Captain  Bonneville 
had  occasion  to  remark  an  instance  of  the  many 
notions,  and  almost  superstitions,  which  prevail 
among  the  Indians,  and  among  some  of  the  white 
men,  with  respect  to  the  sagacity  of  the  beaver. 
The  Indian  hunters  of  his  party  were  in  the  habit 
of  exploring  all  the  streams  along  which  they  pass- 
ed, in  search  of  "  beaver  lodges,"  and  occasional- 
ly set  their  traps  with  some  success.  One  of 
them,  however,  though  an  experienced  and  skilful 
trapper,  was  invariably  unsuccessful.  Astonished 
and  mortified  at  such  unusual  bad  luck,  he  at 
length  conceived  the  idea  that  there  was  some 
odor  about  his  person  of  which  the  beaver  got 
scent  and  retreated  at  his  approach.  He  imme- 
diately set  about  a  thorough  purification.  Making 
a  rude  sweating-house  on  the  banks  of  the  river, 
he  would  shut  himself  up  until  in  a  reeking  per- 
spiration, and  then  suddenly  emerging,  would 
plunge  into  the  river.  A  number  of  these  sweat- 
ings and  plungings  having,  as  he  supposed,  ren- 
dered his  person  perfectly  "  inodorous,"  he  re- 
sumed his  trapping  with  renovated  hope. 

About  the  beginning  of  April  they  encamped 
upon  Godin's  River,  where  they  found  the  swamp 
full  of  "  musk-rat  houses."  Here,  therefore,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  determined  to  remain  a  few  days 
and  make  his  first  regular  attempt  at  trapping. 
That  his  maiden  campaign  might  open  with  spirit, 
he  promised  the  Indians  and  free  trappers  an  ex- 
tra price  for  every  musk-rat  they  should  take.  All 
now  set  to  work  for  the  next  day's  sport.  The 
utmost  animation  and  gayety  prevailed  through- 
out the  camp.  Everything  looked  auspicious  ior 
their  spring  campaign.  The  abundance  of  musk- 
rats  in  the  swamp  was  but  an  earnest  of  the  no- 
bler game  they  were  to  find  when  they  should 
reach  the  Malade  River,  and  have  a  capital  bea- 
ver country  all  to  themselves,  where  they  might 
trap  at  their  leisure  without  molestation. 

In  the  midst  of  their  gayety  a  hunter  came  gal- 
loping into  the  camp,  shouting,  or  rather  yelling, 
"  A  trail  !  a  trail  ! — lodge  poles  !  lodge  poles  !" 

These  were  words  full  of  meaning  to  a  trapper's 
ear.  They  intimated  that  there  was  some  band 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  probably  a  hunting 
party,  as  they  had  lodge  poles  for  an  encamp- 
ment. The  hunter  came  up  and  told  his  story. 
He  had  discovered  a  fresh  trail,  in  which  the 
traces  made  by  the  dragging  of  lodge  poles  were 
distinctly  visible.  The  buffalo,  too,  had  just  been 
driven  out  of  the  neighborhood,  which  showed 
that  the  hunters  had  already  been  on  the  range. 

The  gayety  of  the  camp  was  at  an  end  ;  all  prep- 
arations for  musk-rat  trapping  were  suspended, 
and  all  hands  sallied  forth  to  examine  the  trail. 
Their  worst  fears  were  soon  confirmed.  Infalli- 
ble signs  showed  the  unknown  party  in  the  ad- 
vance to  be  white  men  ;  doubtless,  some  rival 
band  of  trappers  !  Here  was  competition  when 
least  expected  ;  and  that  too  by  a  party  already 
in  the  advance,  who  were  driving  the  game  before 
them.  Captain  Bonneville  had  now  a  taste  of  the 
sudden  transitions  to  which  a  trapper's  life  is 
subject.  The  buoyant  confidence  in  an  uninter- 
rupted hunt  was  at  an  end  ;  every  countenance 
lowered  with  gloom  and  disappointment. 

Captain  Bonneville  immediately  dispatched  two 
spies  to  overtake  the  rival  party,  and  endeavor  to 
learn  their  plans  ;  in  the  meantime,  he  turned 
his  back  upon  the  swamp  and  its  musk-rat  houses 
and  followed  on  at  "  long  camps,"  which  in  trap- 
per's language  is  equivalent  to  long  stages.  On 


the  6th  of  April  he  met  his  spies  returning.  They 
had  kept  on  the  trail  like  hounds  until  they  over- 
took the  party  at  the  south  end  of  Godin's"  defile. 
Here  they  found  them  comfortably  encamped  : 
twenty-two  prime  trappers,  all  well  appointed,  with 
excellent  horses  in  capital  condition  led  by  Mil- 
ton Sublette,  and  an  able  coadjutor  named  Jarvie, 
and  in  full  march  for  the  Malade  hunting  ground. 
This  was  stunning  news.  The  Malade  River  was 
the  only  trapping  ground  within  reach  ;  but  to 
have  to  compete  there  with  veteran  trappers, 
perfectly  at  home  among  the  mountains,  and  ad- 
mirably mounted,  while  they  were  so  poorly  pro- 
vided with  horses  and  trappers,  and  had  but  one 
man  in  their  party  acquainted  with  the  country — 
it  was  out  of  the  question. 

The  only  hope  that  now  remained  was  that  the 
snow,  which  still  lay  deep  among  the  mountains  of 
Godin  River  and  blocked  up  the  usual  pass  to  the 
Malade  country,  might  detain  the  other  party  un- 
til Captain  Bonneville's  horses  should  get  once 
more  into  good  condition  in  their  present  ample 
pasturage. 

The  rival  parties  now  encamped  together,  not 
out  of  companionship,  but  to  keen  an  eye  upon 
each  other.  Day  after  day  passed  by  without 
any  possibility  of  getting  to  the  Malade  country. 
Sublette  and  Jarvie  endeavored  to  force  their  way 
across  the  mountain  ;  but  the  snows  lay  so  deep 
as  to  oblige  them  to  turn  back.  In  the  meantime 
the  captain's  horses  were  daily  gaining  strength, 
and  their  hoofs  improving,  which  had  been  worn 
and  battered  by  mountain  service.  The  captain, 
also,  was  increasing  his  stock  of  provisions  ;  so 
that  the  delay  was  all  in  his  iavor. 

To  any  one  who  merely  contemplates  a  map  of 
the  country  this  difficulty  of  getting  from  Godin 
to  Malade  River  will  appear  inexplicable,  as  the 
intervening  mountains  terminate  in  the  great 
Snake  River  plain,  so  that,  apparently,  it  would 
be  perfectly  easy  to  proceed  round  their  bases. 

Here,  however,  occur  some  of  the  striking  phe- 
nomena of  this  wild  and  sublime  region.  The 
great  lower  plain  which  extends  to  the  feet  of 
these  mountains  is  broken  up  near  their  bases 
into  crests  and  ridges  resembling  the  surges  of 
the  ocean  breaking  on  a  rocky  shore. 

In  a  line  with  the  mountains  the  plain  is  gashed 
with  numerous  and  dangerous  chasms,  from  four 
to  ten  feet  wide,  and  of  great  depth.  Captain 
Bonneville  attempted  to  sound  some  of  these  open- 
ings, but  without  any  satisfactory  result.  A  stone 
dropped  into  one  of  them  reverberated  against 
the  sides  for  apparently  a  very  great  depth,  and, 
by  its  sound,  indicated  the  same  kind  of  substance 
with  the  surface,  as  long  as  the  strokes  could  be 
heard.  The  horse,  instinctively  sagacious  in 
avoiding  danger,  shrinks  back  in  alarm  from  the 
least  of  these  chasms,  pricking  up  his  ears,  snort- 
ing and  pawing,  until  permitted  to  turn  away. 

We  have  been  told  by  a  person  well  acquainted 
with  the  country  that  it  is  sometimes  necessary 
to  travel  fifty  and  sixty  miles  to  get  round  one  of 
these  tremendous  ravines.  Considerable  streams, 
like  that  of  Godin's  River,  that  run  with  a  bold, 
'free  current,  lose  themselves  in  this  plain  ;  some 
of  them  end  in  swamps,  others  suddenly  disap- 
pear, finding,  no  doubt,  subterranean  outlets. 

Opposite  to  these  chasms  Snake  River  makes 
two  desperate  leaps  over  precipices,  at  a  short 
distance  from  each  other  ;  one  twenty,  the  other 
forty  feet  in  height. 

The  volcanic  plain  in  question  forms  an  area  of 
about  sixty  miles  in  diameter,  where  nothing- 
meets  the  eye  but  a  desolate  and  a\Vful  waste  ; 


306 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


where  no  grass  grows  nor  water  runs,  and  where 
nothing  is  to  be  seen  but  lava.  Ranges  of  moun- 
tains skirt  this  plain,  and,  in  Captain  Bonneville's 
opinion,  were  formerly  connected,  until  rent 
asunder  by  some  convulsion  of  nature.  Far  to 
the  east  the  Three  Tetons  lift  their  heads  sub- 
limely, and  dominate  this  wide  sea  of  lava — one 
of  the  most  striking  features  of  a  wilderness  where 
everything  seems  on  a  scale  of  stern  and  simple 
grandeur. 

We  look  forward  with  impatience  for  some  able 
geologist  to  explore  this  sublime  but  almost  un- 
known region. 

It  was  not  until  the  25th  of  April  that  the  two 
parties  of  trappers  broke  up  their  encampments, 
and  undertook  to  cross  over  the  southwest  end  of 
the  mountain  by  a  pass  explored  by  their  scouts. 
From  various  points  of  the  mountain  they  com- 
manded boundless  prospects  of  the  lava  plain, 
stretching  away  in  cold  and  gloomy  barrenness 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  On  the  evening  of 
the  26th  they  reached  the  plain  west  of  the  moun- 
tain, watered  by  the  Malade,  the  Boise"e,  and 
other  streams,  which  comprised  the  contemplated 
trapping  ground. 

The  country  about  the  Boise~e  (or  Woody)  River 
is  extolled  by  Captain  Bonneville  as  the  most 
enchanting  he  had  seen  in  the  Far  West,  present- 
ing the  mingled  grandeur  and  beauty  of  moun- 
tain and  plain,  of  bright  running  streams  and 
vast  grassy  meadows  waving  to  the  breeze. 

We  shall  not  follow  the  captain  throughout  his 
trapping  campaign,  which  lasted  until  the  begin- 
ning of  June,  nor  detail  all  the  manoeuvres  of  the 
rival  trapping  parties  and  their  various  schemes 
to  outwit  and  out-trap  each  other.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that,  after  having  visited  and  camped  about 
various  streams  with  various  success,  Captain 
Bonneville  set  forward  early  in  June  for  the  ap- 
pointed rendezvous  at  the  caches.  On  the  way, 
he  treated  his  party  to  a  grand  buffalo  hunt.  The 
scouts  had  reported  numerous  herds  in  a  plain  be- 
yond an  intervening  height.  There  was  an  im- 
mediate halt ;  the  fleetest  horses  were  forthwith 
mounted  and  the  party  advanced  to  the  summit  of 
the  hill.  Hence  they  beheld  the  great  plain  be- 
low absolutely  swarming  with  buffalo.  Captain 
Bonneville  now  appointed  the  place  where  he 
would  encamp  ;  and  toward  which  the  hunters 
were  to  drive  the  game.  He  cautioned  the  latter 
to  advance  slowly,  reserving  the  strength  and 
speed  of  the  horses  until  within  a  moderate  dis- 
tance of  the  herds.  Twenty-two  horsemen  de- 
scended cautiously  into  the  plain,  comformably  to 
these  directions.  "  It  was  a  beautiful  sight," 
says  the  captain,  "  to  see  the  runners,  as  they  are 
called,  advancing  in  column,  at  a  slow  trot,  until 
within  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  the  out- 
skirts of  the  herd,  then  dashing  on  at  full  speed 
until  lost  in  the  immense  multitude  of  buffaloes 
scouring  the  plain  in  every  direction."  All  was 
now  tumult  and  wild  confusion.  In  the  mean- 
time Captain  Bonneville  and  the  residue  of  the 
party  moved  on  to  the  appointed  camping  ground  ; 
thither  the  most  expert  runners  succeeded  in  driv- 
ing numbers  of  buffalo,  which  were  killed  hard 
by  the  camp,  and  the  flesh  transported  thither 
without  difficulty.  In  a  little  while  the  whole 
camp  looked  like  one  great  slaughter-house  ;  the 
carcasses  were  skilfully  cut  up,  great  fires  were 
made,  scaffolds  erected  for  drying  and  jerking 
beef,  and  an  ample  provision  was  made  for  future 
subsistence.  On  the  1 5th  of  June,  the  precise  day 
appointed  for  the  rendezvous,  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  party  arrived  safely  at  the  caches. 


Here  he  was  joined  by  the  other  detachments 
of  his  main  party,  all  in  good  health  and  spirits. 
The  caches  were  again  opened,  supplies  of  va- 
rious kinds  taken  out,  and  a  liberal  allowance  of 
aqua  -vitce  distributed  throughout  the  camp,  to 
celebrate  with  proper  conviviality  this  merry 
meeting. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MEETING  WITH  HODGKISS — MISFORTUNES  OF  THE 
NEZ  PERCES — SCHEMES  OF  KOSATO,  THE  RENE- 
GADO — HIS  FORAY  INTO  THE  HORSE  PRAIRIE 
— INVASION  OF  BLACKFEET — BLUE  JOHN  AND 
HIS  FORLORN  HOPE — THEIR  GENEROUS  ENTER- 
PRISE —  THEIR  FATE  —  CONSTERNATION  AND 
DESPAIR  OF  THE  VILLAGE — SOLEMN  OBSEQUIES 
— ATTEMPT  AT  INDIAN  TRADE — HUDSON'S  BAY 
COMPANY'S  MONOPOLY — ARRANGEMENTS  FOR 
AUTUMN — BREAKING  UP  OF  AN  ENCAMPMENT. 

HAVING  now  a  pretty  strong  party,  well  armed 
and  equipped,  Captain  Bonneville  no  longer  felt 
the  necessity  of  fortifying  himself  in  the  secret 
places  and  fastnesses  of  the  mountains  ;  but  sal- 
lied forth  boldly  into  the  Snake  River  plain,  in 
search  of  his  clerk,  Hodgkiss,  who  had  remained 
with  the  Nez  Perec's.  He  lound  him  on  the  24th 
of  June,  and  learned  from  him  another  chapter  of 
misfortunes  which  had  recently  befallen  that  ill- 
fated  race. 

After  the  departure  of  Captain  Bonneville  in 
March,  Kosato,  the  renegade  Blackfoot,  had  re- 
covered from  the  wound  received  in  battle  ;  and 
with  his  strength  revived  all  his  deadly  hostility 
to  his  native  tribe.  He  now  resumed  his  efforts 
to  stir  up  the  Nez  Perec's  to  reprisals  upon  their 
old  enemies  ;  reminding  them  incessantly  of  all 
the  outrages  and  robberies  they  had  recently  ex- 
perienced, and  assuring  them  that  such  would 
continue  to  be  their  lot  until  they  proved  them- 
selves men  by  some  signal  retaliation. 

The  impassioned  eloquence  of  the  desperado  at 
length  produced  an  effect  ;  and  a  band  of  braves 
enlisted  under  his  guidance,  to  penetrate  into  the 
Blackfoot  country,  harass  their  villages,  carry  off 
their  horses,  and  commit  all  kinds  of  depreda- 
tions. 

Kosato  pushed  forward  on  his  foray  as  far  as 
the  Horse  Prairie,  where  he  came  upon  a  strung 
party  of  Blackfeet.  Without  waiting  to  estimate 
their  force,  he  attacked  them  with  character- 
istic fury,  and  was  bravely  seconded  by  his  fol- 
lowers. The  contest,  for  a  time,  was  hot  and 
bloody  ;  at  length,  as  is  customary  with  these 
two  tribes,  they  paused,  and  held  a  long  parley, 
or  rather  a  war  of  words. 

"  What  need,"  said  the  Blackfoot  chief,  taunt- 
ingly, "  have  the  Nez  Perec's  to  leave  their  homes, 
and  sally  forth  on  war  parties,  when  they  have 
danger  enough  at  their  own  doors  ?  If  you 
want  fighting,  return  to  your  villages  ;  you  will 
have  plenty  of  it  there.  The  Blackfeet  warriors 
have  hitherto  made  war  upon  you  as  children. 
They  are  now  coming  as  men.  A  great  force  is 
at  hand  ;  they  are  on  their  way  to  your  towns, 
and  are  determined  to  rub  out  the  very  name  of 
the  Nez  Perec's  from  the  mountains.  Return,  I 
say,  to  your  towns,  and  fight  there,  if  you  wish  to 
live  any  longer  as  a  people." 

Kosato  took  him  at  his  word  ;  for  he  knew  the 
character  of  his  native  tribe.  Hastening  back 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


307 


with  his  band  to  the  Nez  Percys  village,  he  told 
all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard,  and  urged  the 
most  prompt  and  strenuous  measures  for  defence. 
The  Nez  Perces,  however,  heard  him  with  their 
accustomed  phlegm  ;  the  threat  of  the  Blackfeet 
had  been  often  made,  and  as  often  had  proved  a 
mere  bravado  ;  such  they  pronounced  it  to  be  at 
present,  and,  of  course,  took  no  precautions. 

They  were  soon  convinced  that  it  was  no  empty 
menace.  In  a  few  clays  a  band  of  three  hundred 
Blackfeet  warriors  appeared  upon  the  hills.  All 
now  was  consternation  in  the  village.  The  force 
of  the  Nez  Percys  was  too  small  to  cope  with  the 
enemy  in  open  fight  ;  many  of  the  young  men 
having  gone  to  their  relatives  on  the  Columbia  to 
procure  horses.  The  sages  met  in  hurried  coun- 
cil. What  was  to  be  done  to  ward  off  a  blow 
which  threatened  annihilation  ?  In  this  moment 
of  imminent  peril,  a  Pierced-nose  chief,  named 
Blue  John  by  the  whites,  offered  to  approach  se- 
cretly with  a  small,  but  chosen  band,  through  a 
defile  which  led  to  the  encampment  of  the  enemy, 
and,  by  a  sudden  onset,  to  drive  off  the  horses. 
Should  this  blow  be  successful,  the  spirit  and 
strength  of  the  invaders  would  be  broken,  and  the 
Nez  Perces,  having  horses,  would  be  more  than  a 
match  for  them.  Should  it  fail,  the  village  would 
not  be  worse  off  than  at  present,  when  destruc- 
tion appeared  inevitable. 

Twenty-nine  of  the  choicest  warriors  instantly 
volunteered  to  follow  Blue  John  in  this  hazardous 
enterprise.  They  prepared  for  it  with  the  solem- 
nity and  devotion  peculiar  to  the  tribe.  Blue  John 
consulted  his  medicine,  ortalismanic  charm,  such 
as  every  chief  keeps  in  his  lodge  as  a  supernatural 
protection.  The  oracle  assured  him  that  his  en- 
terprise would  be  completely  successful,  provided 
no  rain  should  fall  before  he  had  passed  through 
the  defile  ;  but  should  it  rain,  his  band  would  be 
utterly  cut  off. 

The  day  was  clear  and  bright  ;  and  Blue  John 
anticipated  that  the  skies  would  be  propitious. 
He  departed  in  high  spirits  with  his  forlorn 
hope  ;  and  never  did  band  of  braves  make  a  more 
gallant  display — horsemen  and  horses  bsing  dec- 
orated and  equipped  in  the  fiercest  and  most 
glaring  style — glittering  with  arms  and  orna- 
ments, and  fluttering  with  feathers. 

The  weather  continued  serene  until  they  reach- 
ed the  defile  ;  but  just  as  they  were  entering  it  a 
black  cloud  rose  over  the  mountain  crest,  and 
there  was  a  sudden  shower.  The  warriors  turned 
to  their  leader,  as  if  to  read  his  opinion  of  this 
unlucky  omen  ;  but  the  countenance  of  Blue  John 
remained  unchanged,  and  they  continued  to  press 
forward.  It  was  their  hope  to  make  their  way 
undiscovered  to  the  very  vicinity  of  the  Blackfoot 
camp  ;  but  they  had  not  proceeded  far  in  the  de- 
file, when  they  met  a  scouting  party  of  the  enemy. 
They  attacked  and  drove  them  among  the  hills, 
and  were  pursuing  them  with  great  eagerness 
when  they  heard  shouts  and  yells  behind  them, 
and  beheld  the  main  body  of  the  Blackfeet  ad- 
vancing. 

The  second  chief  wavered  a  little  at  the  sight, 
and  proposed  an  instant  retreat.  "  We  came  to 
fight  !"  replied  Blue  John,  sternly.  Then  giving 
his  war-whoop,  he  sprang  forward  to  the  conflict. 
His  braves  followed  him.  They  made  a  head- 
long charge  upon  the  enemy  ;  not  with  the  hope 
;  of  victory,  but  the  determination  to  sell  their  lives 
dearly.  A  frightiul  carnage,  rather  than  a  regu- 
lar battle,  succeeded.  The  forlorn  band  laid 
heaps  of  their  enemies  dead  at  their  feet,  but 
were  overwhelmed  with  numbers  and  pressed 


into  a  gorge  of  the  mountain,  where  they  contin- 
ued to  fight  until  they  were  cut  to  pieces.  One 
only,  of  the  thirty,  survived.  He  sprang  on  the 
horse  of  a  Blackfoot  warrior  whom  he  had  slain, 
and  escaping  at  full  speed,  brought  home  the 
baleful  tidings  to  his  village. 

Who  can  paint  the  horror  and  desolation  of  the 
inhabitants  ?  The  flower  of  their  warriors  laid 
low,  and  a  ferocious  enemy  at  their  doors.  The 
air  was  rent  by  the  shrieks  and  lamentations  of 
the  women,  who,  casting  off  their  ornaments  and 
tearing  their  hair,  wandered  about,  frantically  be- 
wailing the  dead  and  predicting  destruction  to 
the  living.  The  remaining  warriors  armed  them- 
selves for  obstinate  defence  ;  but  showed  by  their 
gloomy  looks  and  sullen  silence  that  they  consid- 
ered defence  hopeless.  To  their  surprise  the 
Blackfeet  rei rained  from  pursuing  their  advan- 
tage ;  perhaps  satisfied  with  the  blood  already 
shed,  or  disheartened  by  the  loss  they  had  them- 
selves sustained.  At  any  rate,  they  disappeared 
from  the  hills,  and  it  was  soon  ascertained  that 
they  had  returned  to  the  Horse  Prairie. 

The  unfortunate  Nez  Perec's  now  began  once 
more  to  breathe.  A  few  of  their  warriors,  taking 
pack-horses,  repaired  to  the  defile  to  bring  away 
the  bodies  of  their  slaughtered  brethren.  They 
found  them  mere  headless  trunks  ;  and  the 
wounds  with  which  they  were  covered  showed 
how  bravely  they  had  fought.  Their  hearts,  too, 
had  been  torn  out  and  carried  off  ;  a  proof  of 
their  signal  valor  ;  for  in  devouring  the  heart  of 
a  loe  renowned  for  bravery,  or  who  has  distin- 
guished himself  in  battle,  the  Indian  victor  thinks 
he  appropriates  to  himself  the  courage  of  the  de- 
ceased. 

Gathering  the  mangled  bodies  of  the  slain,  and 
strapping  them  across  their  pack-horses,  the  \var- 
riors  returned,  in  dismal  procession,  to  the  village. 
The  tribe  came  forth  to  meet  them  ;  the  women 
with  piercing  cries  and  wailings  ;  the  men  with 
downcast  countenances,  in  which  gloom  and  sor- 
row seemed  fixed  as  if  in  marble.  The  mutilated 
and  almost  undistinguishable  bodies  were  placed 
in  rows  upon  the  ground,  in  the  midst  of  the  as- 
semblage ;  and  the  scene  of  heart-rending  an- 
guish and  lamentation  that  ensued  would  have 
confounded  those  who  insist  on  Indian  stoicism. 

Such  was  the  disastrous  event  that  had  over- 
whelmed the  Nez  Perces  tribe  during  the  ab- 
sence of  Captain  Bonneville  ;  and  he  was  informed 
that  Kosato,  the  renegade,  who,  being  stationed 
in  the  village,  had  been  prevented  from  going  on 
the  forlorn  hope,  was  again  striving  to  rouse  the 
vindictive  feelings  of  his  adopted  brethren,  and  to 
prompt  them  to  revenge  the  slaughter  of  their  de- 
voted braves. 

During  his  sojourn  on  the  Snake  River  plain, 
Captain  Bonneville  made  one  of  his  first  essays  at 
the  strategy  of  the  fur  trade.  There  was  at  this 
time  an  assemblage  of  Nez  Perec's,  Flatheads,  and 
Cottonois  Indians  encamped  together  upon  the 
plain  ;  well  provided  with  beaver,  which  they  had 
collected  during  the  spring.  These  they  were 
waiting  to  traffic  with  a  resident  trader  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  who  was  stationed 
among  them,  and  with  whom  they  were  accus- 
tomed to  deal.  As  it  happened,  the  trader  was 
almost  entirely  destitute  of  Indian  goods  ;  his 
spring  supply  not  having  yet  reached  him.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  had  secret  intelligence  that  the 
supplies  were  on  their  way,  and  would  soon  ar- 
rive ;  he  hoped,  however,  by  a  prompt  move,  to 
anticipate  their  arival,  and  secure  the  market  to 
himself.  Throwing  himself,  therefore,  among 


308 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


the  Indians,  he  opened  his  packs  of  merchandise 
and  displayed  the  most  tempting  wares -..bright 
cloths,  and  scarlet  blankets,  and  glittering  orna- 
ments, and  everything  gay  and  glorious  in  the 
eyes  of  warrior  or  squaw  ;  all,  however,  was  in 
vain.  The  Hudson's  Bay  trader  was  a  perfect 
master  of  his  business,  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  the  Indians  he  had  to  deal  with,  and  held 
such  control  over  them  that  none  dared  to  act 
openly  in  opposition  to  his  wishes  ;  nay,  more — 
he  came  nigh  turning  the  tables  upon  the  captain, 
and  shaking  the  allegiance  of  some  of  his  free 
trappers,  by  distributing  liquors  among  them. 
The  latter,  therefore,  was  glad  to  give  up  a  com- 
petition, where  the  war  was  likely  to  be  carried 
into  his  own  camp. 

In  fact,  the  traders  oi  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany have  advantages  over  all  competitors  in  the 
trade  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains.  That  huge 
monopoly  centres  within  itself  not  merely  its  own 
hereditary  and  long-established  power  and  influ- 
ence ;  but  also  those  of  its  ancient  rival,  but  now 
integral  part,  the  famous  Northwest  Company. 
It  has  thus  its  races  of  traders,  trappers,  hunters, 
and  voyageurs,  born  and  brought  up  in  its  service, 
and  inheriting  from  preceding  generations  a 
knowledge  and  aptitude  in  everything  connected 
with  Indian  life,  and  Indian  traffic.  In  the  pro- 
cess of  years,  this  company  has  been  enabled  to 
spread  its  ramifications  in  every  direction  ;  its 
system  of  intercourse  is  founded  upon  a  long  and 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  character  and  neces- 
sities of  the  various  tribes  ;  and  of  all  the  fast- 
nesses, defiles,  and  favorable  hunting  grounds  of 
the  country.  Their  capital,  also,  and  the  manner 
in  which  their  supplies  are  distributed  at  various 
posts,  or  forwarded  by  regular  caravans,  keep  their 
traders  well  supplied,  and  enable  them  to  furnish 
their  goods  to  the  Indians  at  a  cheap  rate.  Their 
men,  too,  being  chiefly  drawn  from  the  Canadas, 
where  they  enjoy  great  influence  and  control,  are 
engaged  at  the  most  trifling  wages,  and  supported 
at  little  cost  ;  the  provisions  which  they  take  with 
them  being  little  more  than  Indian  corn  and 
grease.  They  are  brought  also  into  the  most  per- 
fect discipline  and  subordination,  especially  when 
their  leaders  have  once  got  them  to  their  scene  of 
action  in  the  heart  of  the  wilderness. 

These  circumstances  combine  to  give  the  lead- 
ers of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  a  decided  ad- 
vantage over  all  the  American  companies  that 
come  within  their  range  ;  so  that  any  close  com- 
petition with  them  is  almost  hopeless. 

Shortly  after  Captain  Bonneville's  ineffectual 
attempt  to  participate  in  the  trade  of  the  associ- 
ated camp,  the  supplies  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  arrived  ;  and  the  resident  trader  was 
enabled  to  monopolize  the  market. 

It  was  now  the  beginning  of  July  ;  in  the  latter 
part  of  which  month  Captain  Bonneville  had  ap- 
pointed a  rendezvous  at  Horse  Creek  in  Green 
River  valley,  with  some  of  the  parties  which  he 
had  detached  in  the  preceding  year.  He  now 
turned  his  thoughts  in  that  direction,  and  pre- 
pared for  the  journey. 

The  Cottonois  were  anxious  for  him  to  proceed 
at  once  to  their  country  ;  which,  they  assured  him, 
abounded  in  beaver.  The  lands  of  this  tribe  lie 
immediately  north  of  those  of  the  Flatheads  and 
are  open  to  the  inroads  of  the  Blackfeet.  It  is 
true,  the  latter  professed  to  be  their  allies  ;  but 
they  had  been  guilty  of  so  many  acts  of  perfidy, 
that  the  Cottonois  had,  latterly,  renounced  their 
hollow  friendship  and  attached  themselves  to  the 
Flatheads  and  Nez  Perec's.  These  they  had  ac- 


companied in  their  migrations  rather  than  remain 
alone  at  home,  exposed  to  the  outrages  of  the 
Blackfeet.  They  were  now  apprehensive  that 
these  marauders  would  range  their  country  during 
their  absence  and  destroy  the  beaver  ,  this  was 
their  reason  for  urging  Captain  Bonneville  to  make 
it  his  autumnal  hunting  ground.  The  latter, 
however,  was  not  to  be  tempted  ;  his  engage^ 
ments  required  his  presence  at  the  rendezvous  in 
Green  River  valley  ;  and  he  had  already  formed 
his  ulterior  plans. 

An  unexpected  difficulty  now  arose.  The  free 
trappers  suddenly  made  a  stand,  and  declined  to 
accompany  him.  It  was  a  long  and  weary  journey  ; 
the  route  lay  through  Pierre's  Hole,  and  other 
mountain  passes  infested  by  the  Blackleet,  and 
recently  the  scenes  of  sanguinary  conflicts.  They 
were  not  disposed  to  undertake  such  unnecessary 
toils  and  dangers, when  they  had  good  and  secure 
trapping  grounds  nearer  at  hand,  on  the  head- 
waters of  Salmon  River. 

As  these  were  free  and  independent  fellows, 
whose  will  and  whim  were  apt  to  be  law — who 
had  the  whole  wilderness  before  them,  "where 
to  choose,"  and  the  trader  of  a  rival  company  at 
hand,  ready  to  pay  for  their  services — it  was  ne- 
cessary to  bend  to  their  wishes.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville fitted  them  out,  therefore,  for  the  hunting 
ground  in  question  ;  appointing-  Mr.  Hodgkiss  to 
act  as  their  partisan,  or  leader,  and  fixing  a  ren- 
dezvous where  he  should  meet  them  in  the  course 
of  the  ensuing  winter.  The  brigade  consisted  of 
twenty-one  free  trappers  and  lour  or  five  hired 
men  as  camp-keepers.  This  was  not  the  exact 
arrangement  of  a  trapping  party  ;  which  when 
accurately  organized  is"  composed  of  two  thirds 
trappers  whose  duty  leads  them  continually 
abroad  in  pursuit  of  game  ;  and  one  third  camp- 
keepers  who  cook,  pack,  and  unpack  ;  set  up  the 
tents,  take  care  of  the  horses  and  do  all  other  du- 
ties usually  assigned  by  the  Indians  to  their 
women.  This  part  of  the  service  is  apt  to  be  ful- 
filled by  French  Creoles  from  Canada  and  the 
valley  of  the  Mississippi. 

In  the  meantime  the  associated  Indians  having 
completed  their  trade  and  received  their  supplies, 
were  all  ready  to  disperse  in  various  directions. 
As  there  was  a  formidable  band  of  Blackfeet  just 
over  a  mountain  to  the  northeast,  by  which  Hodg- 
kiss and  his  free  trappers  would  have  to  pass  ; 
and  as  it  was  known  that  those  sharp-sighted 
marauders  had  their  scouts  out  watching  every 
movement  of  the  encampments,  so  as  to  cut  off 
stragglers  or  weak  detachments,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville prevailed  upon  the  Nez  Perec's  to  accompany 
Hodgkiss  and  his  party  until  they  should  be  be- 
yond the  range  of  the  enemy. 

The  Cottonois  and  the  Pends  Oreilles  deter- 
mined to  move  together  at  the  same  time,  and  to 
pass  close  under  the  mountain  infested  by  the 
Blackfeet  ;  while  Captain  Bonneville,  with  his 
party,  was  to  strike  in  an  opposite  direction  to  the 
southeast,  bending  his  course  for  Pierre's  Hole, 
on  his  way  to  Green  River. 

Accordingly,  on  the  6th  of  July,  all  the  camps 
were  raised  at  the  same  moment  ;  each  party  tak-  . 
ing  its  separate  route.  The  scene  was  wild  and  ' 
picturesque  ;  the  long  line  of  traders,  trappers, 
and  Indians,  with  their  rugged  and  fantastic 
dresses  and  accoutrements  ;  their  varied  weap- 
ons, their  innumerable  horses,  some  under  the 
saddle,  some  burdened  with  packages,  others  fol- 
lowing in  droves  ;  all  stretching  in  lengthening 
cavalcades  across  the  vast  landscape,  and  making 
for  different  points  of  the  plains  and  mountains. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


309 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PRECAUTIONS  IN  DANGEROUS  DEFILES— TRAP- 
PERS' MODE  OF  DEFENCE  ON  A  PRAIRIE — A 
MYSTERIOUS  VISITOR  —  ARRIVAL  IN  GREEN 
RIVER  VALLEY — ADVENTURES  OF  THE  DETACH- 
MENTS— THE  FORLORN  PARTISAN — HIS  TALE 
OF  DISASTERS. 

As  the  route  of  Captain  Bonneville  lay  through 
what  was  considered  the  most  perilous  part  of 
this  region  of  dangers,  he  took  all  his  measures 
with  military  skill,  and  observed  the  strictest  cir- 
cumspection. When  on  the  march,  a  small  scout- 
ing party  was  thrown  in  the  advance,  to  recon- 
noitre the  country  through  which  they  were  to 
pass.  The  encampments  were  selected  with  great 
care,  and  a  watch  was  kept  up  night  and  day. 
The  horses  were  brought  in  and  picketed  at  night, 
and  at  daybreak  a  party  was  sent  out  to  scour  the 
neighborhood  for  half  a  mile  round,  beating  up 
every  grove  and  thicket  that  could  give  shelter  to 
a  lurking  foe.  When  all  was  reported  safe,  the 
horses  were  cast  loose  and  turned  out  to  graze. 
Were  such  precautions  generally  observed  by 
traders  and  hunters,  we  should  not  so  often  hear 
of  parties  being  surprised  by  the  Indians. 

Having  stated  the  military  arrangements  of  the 
captain,  we  may  here  mention  a  mode  of  defence 
on  the  open  prairie,  which  we  have  heard  from  a 
veteran  in  the  Indian  trade.  When  a  party  of 
trappers  is  on  a  journey  with  a  convoy  of  goods 
or  peltries,  every  man  has  three  pack-horses  under 
his  care  ;  each  horse  laden  with  three  packs. 
Every  man  is  provided  with  a  picket  with  an  iron 
head,  a  mallet,  and  hobbles,  or  leathern  fetters 
for  the  horses.  The  trappers  proceed  across  the 
prairie  in  a  long  line  ;  or  sometimes  three  paral- 
lel lines,  sufficiently  distant  from  each  other  to 
prevent  the  packs  from  interfering.  At  an  alarm, 
when  there  is  no  covert  at  hand,  the  line  wheels 
so  as  to  bring  the  front  to  the  rear  and  form  a  cir- 
cle. All  then  dismount,  drive  their  pickets  into 
the  ground  in  the  centre,  fasten  the  horses  to 
them,  and  hobble  their  forelegs,  so  that,  in  case 
of  alarm,  they  cannot  break  away.  Then  they 
unload  them,  and  dispose  of  their  packs  as  breast- 
works on  the  periphery  of  the  circle  ;  each  man 
having  nine  packs  behind  which  to  shelter  him- 
selt.  In  this  promptly-formed  fortress,  they 
await  the  assault  of  the  enemy,  and  are  enabled 
to  set  large  bands  of  Indians  at  defiance. 

The  first  night  of  his  march,  Captain  Bonne- 
ville encamped  upon  Henry's  Fork  ;  an  upper 
branch  of  Snake  River,  called  after  the  first 
American  trader  that  erected  a  fort  beyond  the 
mountains.  About  an  hour  alter  all  hands  had 
come  to  a  halt  the  clatter  of  hoofs  was  heard, 
and  a  solitary  female,  of  the  Nez  Perce  tribe,  came 
galloping  up.  She  was  mounted  on  a  mustang, 
or  half  wild  horse,  which  she  managed  by  a  long 
rope  hitched  round  the  under  jaw  by  way  of  bri- 
dle. Dismounting,  she  walked  silently  into  the 
midst  of  the  camp,  and  there  seated  herself  on  the 
ground,  still  holding  her  horse  by  the  long  halter. 

The  sudden  and  lonely  apparition  of  this 
woman,  and  her  calm  yet  resolute  demeanor, 
awakened  universal  curiosity.  The  hunters  and 
trappers  gathered  round,  and  gazed  on  her  as 
something  mysterious.  She  remained  silent,  but 
maintained  her  air  of  calmness  and  sell-posses- 
sion. Captain  Bonneville  approached  and  inter- 
rogated her  as  to  the  object  of  her  mysterious 
visit.  Her  answer  was  brief  but  earnest — "  I  love 
the  whites — I  will  go  with  them."  She  was  forth- 


with invited  to  a  lodge,  of  which  she  readily  took 
possession,  and  from  that  time  forward  was  con- 
sidered one  of  the  camp. 

In  consequence,  very  probably,  of  the  military 
precautions  of  Captain  Bonneville,  he  conducted 
his  party  in  safety  through  this  hazardous  region. 
No  accident  of  a  disastrous  kind  occurred,  ex- 
cepting the  loss  of  a  horse,  which,  in  passing 
along  the  giddy  edge  of  the  precipice,  called  the 
Cornice,  a  dangerous  pass  between  Jackson's  and 
Pierre's  Hole,  fell  over  the  brink  and  was  dashed 
to  pieces. 

On  the  ijth  of  July  (1833),  Captain  Bonneville 
arrived  at  Green  River.  As  he  entered  the  val- 
ley, he  beheld  it  strewed  in  every  direction  with 
the  carcasses  of  buffaloes.  It  was  evident  that 
Indians  had  recently  been  there,  and  in  great 
numbers.  Alarmed  at  this  sight,  he  came  to  a 
halt,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  sent  out  spies 
to  his  place  of  rendezvous  on  Horse  Creek,  where 
he  had  expected  to  meet  with  his  detached  parties 
of  trappers  on  the  following  day.  Early  in  the 
morning  the  spies  made  their  appearance  in  the 
camp,  and  with  them  came  three  trappers  of  one 
of  his  bands,  from  the  rendezvous,  who  told  him 
his  people  were  all  there  expecting  him.  As  to  the 
slaughter  among  the  buffaloes,  it  had  been  made 
by  a  friendly  band  of  Shoshonies,  who  had  fallen 
in  with  one  of  his  trapping  parties,  and  accom- 
panied them  to  the  rendezvous.  Having  imparted 
this  intelligence,  the  three  worthies  from  the  renT 
dezvous  broached  a  small  keg  of  "  alcohol,"  which 
they  had  brought  with  them,  to  enliven  this  mer- 
ry meeting.  The  liquor  went  briskly  round  ;  all 
absent  friends  were  toasted,  and  the  party  moved 
forward  to  the  rendezvous  in  high  spirits. 

The  meeting  of  associated  bands,  who  have 
been  separated  from  each  other  on  these  hazard- 
ous enterprises,  is  always  interesting  ;  each  hav- 
ing its  tale  of  perils  and  adventures  to  relate. 
Such  was  the  case  with  the  various  detachments 
of  Captain  Bonneville's  company,  thus  brought 
together  on  Horse  Creek.  Here  was  the  detach- 
ment of  fifty  men  which  he  had  sent  from  Salmon 
River,  in  the  preceding  month  of  November,  to 
winter  on  Snake  River.  They  had  met  with 
many  crosses  and  losses  in  the  course  of  their 
spring  hunt,  not  so  much  from  Indians  as  from 
white  men.  They  had  come  in  competition  with 
rival  trapping  parties,  particularly  one  belonging 
to  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  ;  and  they 
had  long  stories  to  relate  of  their  manoeuvres  to 
forestall  or  distress  each  other.  In  fact  in  these 
virulent  and  sordid  competitions,  the  trappers  of 
each  party  were  more  intent  upon  injuring  their 
rivals,  than  benefitting  themselves  ;  breaking 
each  other's  traps,  trampling  and  tearing  to 
pieces  the  beaver  lodges,  and  doing  everything  in 
their  power  to  mar  the  success  of  the  hunt.  We 
forbear  to  detail  these  pitiful  contentions. 

The  most  lamentable  tale  of  disasters,  however, 
that  Captain  Bonneville  had  to  hear,  was  from  a 
partisan,  whom  he  had  detached  in  the  preceding 
year,  with  twenty  men,  to  hunt  through  the  out- 
skirts of  the  Crow  country,  and  on  the  tributary 
streams  of  the  Yellowstone  ;  whence  he  was  to 
proceed  and  join  him  in  his  winter  quarters  on 
Salmon  River.  This  partisan  appeared  at  the 
rendezvous  without  his  party,  and  a  sorrowful  tale 
of  disasters  had  he  to  relate.  In  hunting  the 
Crow  country,  he  fell  in  with  a  village  of  that 
tribe;  notorious  rogues,  jockeys, and  horse  steal- 
ers,  and  errant  scamperers  of  the  mountains. 
These  decoyed  most  of  his  men  to  desert,  and 
carry  off  horses,  traps,  and  accoutrements.  When 


310 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


he  attempted  to  retake  the  deserters,  the  Crow 
warriors  ruffled  up  to  him  and  declared  the  de- 
serters were  their  good  friends,  had  determined 
to  remain  among  them,  and  should  not  be  mo- 
lested. The  poor  partisan,  therefore,  was  fain 
to  leave  his  vagabonds  among  these  birds  of  their 
own  feather,  and,  being  too  weak  in  numbers  to 
attempt  the  dangerous  pass  across  the  mountains 
to  meet  Captain  Bonneville  on  Salmon  River,  he 
made, with  the  few  that  remained  faithful  to  him, 
for  the  neighborhood  of  Tullock's  Fort,  on  the 
Yellowstone,  under  the  protection  of  which  he 
went  into  winter  quarters. 

He  soon  found  out  that  the  neighborhood  of  the 
fort  was  nearly  as  bad  as  the  neighborhood  of 
the  Crows.  His  men  were  continually  stealing 
away  thither,  with  whatever  beaver  skins  they 
could  secrete  or  lay  their  hands  on.  These  they 
would  exchange  with  the  hangers-on  of  the  fort 
for  whiskey,  and  then  revel  in  drunkenness  and 
debauchery. 

The  unlucky  partisan  made  another  move. 
Associating  with  his  party  a  few  free  trappers, 
whom  he  met  with  in  this  neighborhood,  he  start- 
ed off  early  in  the  spring  to  trap  on  the  head 
waters  of  Powder  River.  In  the  course  of  the 
journey,  his  horses  were  so  much  jaded  in  travers- 
ing a  steep  mountain,  that  he  was  induced  to  turn 
them  loose  to  graze  during  the  night.  The  place 
was  lonely  ;  the  path  was  rugged  ;  there  was  not 
the  sign  of  an  Indian  in  the  neighborhood  ;  not  a 
blade  of  grass  that  had  been  turned  by  a  foot- 
step. But  who  can  calculate  on  security  in  the 
midst  of  the  Indian  country,  where  the  foe  lurks 
in  silence  and  secrecy,  and  seems  to  come  and 
go  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  ?  The  horses  had 
scarce  been  turned  loose,  when  a  couple  of  Arick- 
ara  (or  Rickaree)  warriors  entered  the  camp.  They 
affected  a  frank  and  friendly  demeanor  ;  but  their 
appearance  and  movements  awakened  the  sus- 
picions of  some  of  the  veteran  trappers,  well 
versed  in  Indian  wiles.  Convinced  that  they  were 
spies  sent  on  some  sinister  errand,  they  took  them 
in  custody,  and  set  to  work  to  drive  in  the  horses. 
It  was  too  late- -the  horses  were  already  gone. 
In  fact,  a  war  party  of  Arickaras  had  been  hover- 
ing on  their  trail  lor  several  days,  watching  with 
the  patience  and  perseverance  ot  Indians,  for 
some  moment  of  negligence  and  fancied  security, 
to  make  a  successful  swoop.  The  two  spies  had 
evidently  been  sent  into  the  camp  to  create  a  di- 
version, while  their  confederates  carried  off  the 
spoil. 

The  unlucky  partisan,  thus  robbed  of  his 
horses,  turned  furiously  on  his  prisoners,  ordered 
them  to  be  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  swore  to 
put  them  to  death  unless  his  property  were  re- 
stored. The  robbers,  who  soon  found  that,  their 
spies  were  in  captivity,  now  made  their  appear- 
ance on  horseback,  and  held  a  parley.  The  sight 
of  them,  mounted  on  the  very  horses  they  had 
stolen,  set  the  blood  of  the  mountaineers  in  a  fer- 
ment ;  but  it  was  useless  to  attack  them,  as  they 
would  have  but  to  turn  their  steeds  and  scamper 
out  of  the  reach  of  pedestrians.  A  negotiation  was 
now  attempted.  The  Arickaras  offered  what  they 
considered  fair  terms  ;  to  barter  one  horse,  or 
even  two  horses,  for  a  prisoner.  The  mountain- 
eers spurned  at  their  offer,  and  declared  that,  un- 
less all  the  horses  were  relinquished,  the  prisoners 
should  be  burnt  to  death.  To  give  force  to  their 
threat,  a  pvre  ot  logs  and  fagots  was  heaped  up 
and  kindled  into  a  blaze. 

The  parley  continued  ;  the  Arickaras  released 
one  horse  and  then  another,  in  earnest  of'their 


proposition  ;  finding,  however,  that  nothing  short 
of  the  relinquishment  of  all  their  spoils  would 
purchase  the  lives  of  the  captives,  they  abandoned 
them  to  their  fate,  moving  off  with  many  parting 
words  and  lamentable  howlings.  The  prisoners 
seeing  them  depart,  and  knowing  the  horrible 
fate  that  awaited  them,  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
escape.  They  partially  succeeded,  but  were  se- 
verely wounded  and  retaken  ;  then  dragged  to 
the  blazing  pyre,  and  burnt  to  death  in  the  sight 
of  their  retreating  comrades. 

Such  are  the  savage  cruelties  that  white  men 
learn  to  practise,  who  mingle  in  savage  life  ;  and 
such  are  the  acts  that  lead  to  terrible  recrimina- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  Indians.  Should  we  hear 
of  any  atrocities  committed  by  the  Arickaras  upon 
captive  white  men,  let  this  signal  and  recent  prov- 
ocation be  borne  in  mind.  Individual  cases  ot 
the  kind  dwell  in  the  recollections  of  whole 
tribes  ;  and  it  is  a  point  of  honor  and  conscience 
to  revenge  them. 

The  loss  of  his  horses  completed  the  ruin  of  the 
unlucky  partisan.  It  was  out  of  his  power  to 
prosecute  his  hunting,  or  to  maintain  his  party  ; 
the  only  thought  now  was  how  to  get  back  to  civ- 
ilized life.  At  the  first  water-course,  his  men  built 
canoes,  and  committed  themselves  to  the  stream. 
Some  engaged  themselves  at  various  trading  es- 
tablishments at  which  they  touched,  others  got 
back  to  the  settlements.  As  to  the  partisan,  he 
found  an  opportunity  to  make  his  way  to  the  ren- 
dezvous at  Green  River  valley  ;  which  he  reached 
in  time  to  render  to  Captain  Bonneville  this  forlorn 
account  of  his  misadventures. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

GATHERING  IN  GREEN  RIVER  VALLEY — VISITINGS 
AND  FEASTINGS  OF  LEADERS— ROUGH  WASSAIL- 
ING AMONG  THE  TRAPPERS — WILD  BLADES  OF 
THE  MOUNTAINS — INDIAN  BELLES — POTENCY 
OF  BRIGHT  BEADS  AND  RED  BLANKETS — ARRI- 
VAL OF  SUPPLIES — REVELRY  AND  EXTRAVA- 
GANCE— MAD  WOLVES — THE  LOST  INDIAN. 

THE  Green  River  valley  was  at  this  time  the 
scene  of  one  of  those  general  gatherings  of  tra- 
ders, trappers,  and  Indians,  that  we  have  already 
mentioned.  The  three  rival  companies,  which, 
for  a  year  past  had  been  endeavoring  to  out- 
trade,  out-trap,  and  outwit  each  other,  were  here 
encamped  in  close  proximity,  awaiting  their  an- 
nual supplies.  About  four  miles  from  the  ren- 
dezvous of  Captain  Bonneville  was  that  of  the 
American  Fur  Company,  hard  by  which,  was  that 
also  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company. 

After  the  eager  rivalry  and  almost  hostility  dis- 
played by  these  companies  in  their  late  campaigns, 
it  might  be  expected  that,  when  thus  brought  in 
juxtaposition,  they  would  hold  themselves  warily 
and  sternly  aloof  from  each  other,  and,  should 
they  happen  to  come  in  contact,  brawl  and  blood- 
shed would  ensue. 

No  such  thing  !  Never  did  rival  lawyers  after 
a  wrangle  at  the  bar  meet  with  more  social  good- 
humor  at  a  circuit  dinner.  The  hunting  season 
over,  all  past  tricks  and  manoeuvres  are  forgotten, 
all  feuds  and  bickerings  buried  in  oblivion. 
From  the  middle  of  June  to  the  middle  of  Septem- 
ber, all  trapping  is  suspended  ;  lor  the  beavers 
are  then  shedding  their  furs  and  their  skins  are 
of  little  value.  This,  then,  is  the  trappers'  holiday 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


when  he  is  all  for  fun  and  frolic,  and  ready  for  a 
saturnalia  among  the  mountains. 

At  the  present  season,  too,  all  parties  were  in 
good  humor.  The  year  had  been  productive. 
Competition,  by  threatening  to  lessen  their  profits, 
had  quickened  their  wits,  roused  their  energies, 
and  made  them  turn  every  favorable  chance  to  the 
best  advantage  ;  so  that,  on  assembling  at  their 
respective  places  of  rendezvous,  each  company 
found  itself  in  possession  of  a  rich  stock  of  pel- 
tries. 

The  leaders  of  the  different  companies,  there- 
fore, mingled  on  terms  of  perfect  good-fellow- 
ship ;  interchanging  visits,  and  regaling  each 
other  in  the  best  style  their  respective  camps  af- 
forded. But  the  rich  treat  for  the  worthy  captain 
was  to  see  the  "  chivalry"  of  the  various  encamp- 
ments engaged  in  contests  of  skill  at  running, 
jumping,  wrestling,  shooting  with  the  rifle,  and 
running  horses.  And  then  their  rough  hunters' 
feastings  and  carousals.  They  drank  together,  they 
sang,  they  laughed,  they  whooped  ;  they  tried  to 
outbrag  and  outlie  each  other  in  stories  of  their  ad- 
ventures and  achievements.  Here  the  iree  trappers 
were  in  all  their  glory  ;  they  considered  them- 
selves the  "  cocks  of  the  walk,"  and  always  car- 
ried the  highest  crests.  Now  and  then  familiarity 
was  pushed  too  far,  and  would  effervesce  into  a 
brawl,  and  a  "  rough  and  tumble"  fight  ;  but  it 
all  ended  in  cordial  reconciliation  and  maudlin 
endearment. 

The  presence  of  the  Shoshonie  tribe  contributed 
occasionally  to  cause  temporary  jealousies  and 
feuds.  The  Shoshonie  beauties  became  objects 
of  rivalry  among  some  of  the  amorous  moun- 
taineers. Happy  was  the  trapper  who  could 
muster  up  a  red  blanket,  a  string  of  gay  beads, 
or  a  paper  of  precious  vermilion,  with  which  to 
win  the  smiles  of  a  Shoshonie  fair  one. 

The  caravans  of  supplies  arrived  at  the  valley 
just  at  this  period  of  gallantry  and  good-fellow- 
ship. Now  commenced  a  scene  of  eager  compe- 
tition and  wild  prodigality  at  the  different  en- 
campments. Bales  were  hastily  ripped  open,  and 
their  motley  contents  poured  forth.  A  mania  for 
purchasing  spread  itself  throughout  the  several 
bands — munitions  for  war,  for  hunting,  for  gal- 
lantry, were  seized  upon  with  equal  avidity — ri- 
fles, hunting  knives,  traps,  scarlet  cloth,  red 
blankets,  garish  beads,  and  glittering  trinkets, 
were  bought  at  any  price,  and  scores  run  up  with- 
out any  thought  how  they  were  ever  to  be  rubbed 
off.  The  free  trappers  especially  were  extravagant 
in  their  purchases.  For  a  free  mountaineer  to 
pause  at  a  paltry  consideration  of  dollars  and 
cents,  in  the  attainment  of  any  object  that  might 
strike  his  fancy,  would  stamp  him  with  the  mark 
of  the  beast  in  the  estimation  of  his  comrades. 
For  a  trader  to  refuse  one  of  these  free  and  flour- 
ishing blades  a  credit,  whatever  unpaid  scores 
might  stare  him  in  the  face,  would  be  a  flagrant 
affront,  scarcely  to  be  forgiven. 

Now  succeeded  another  outbreak  of  revelry  and 
extravagance.  The  trappers  were  newly  fitted 
out  and  arrayed,  and  dashed  about  with  their 
horses  caparisoned  in  Indian  style.  The  Sho- 
shonie beauties  also  flaunted  about  in  all  the  col- 
ors of  the  rainbow.  Every  freak  of  prodigality 
was  indulged  to  its  fullest  extent,  and  in  a  little 
while  most  of  the  trappers,  having  squandered 
away  all  their  wages,  and  perhaps  run  knee-deep 
in  debt,  were  ready  for  another  hard  campaign 
in  the  wilderness. 

During  this  season  of  folly  and  frolic,  there 
was  an  alarm  of  mad  wolves  in  the  two  lower 


camps.  One  or  more  of  these  animals  entered 
the  camps  lor  three  nights  successively,  and  bit 
several  of  the  people. 

Captain  Bonneville  relates  the  case  of  an  Indian 
who  was  a  universal  favorite  in  the  lower  camp. 
He  had  been  bitten  by  one  of  these  animals.  Be- 
ing out  with  a  party  shortly  alterward  he  grew 
silent  and  gloomy,  and  lagged  behind  the  rest,  as 
if  he  wished  to  leave  them.  They  halted  and 
urged  him  to  move  faster,  but  he  entreated  them 
not  to  approach  him,  and,  leaping  from  his  horse, 
began  to  roll  frantically  on  the  earth,  gnashing 
his  teeth  and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  Still  he  re- 
tained his  senses,  and  warned  his  companions  not 
to  come  near  him,  as  he  should  not  be  able  to  re- 
strain himself  from  biting  them.  They  hurried 
off  to  obtain  relief  ;  but  on  their  return  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  His  horse  and  his  accou- 
trements remained  upon  the  spot.  Three  or  four 
days  afterward,  a  solitary  Indian,  believed  to  be 
the  same,  was  observed  crossing  a  valley,  and 
pursued  ;  but  he  darted  away  into  the  fastnesses 
of  the  mountains,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

Another  instance  we  have  from  a  different  per- 
son who  was  present  in  the  encampment.  One 
of  the  men  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company 
had  been  bitten.  He  set  out  shortly  afterward  in 
company  with  two  white  men,  on  his  return  to  the 
settlements.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  he 
showed  symptoms  of  hydrophobia,  and  became 
raving  toward  night.  At  length,  breaking  away 
from  his  companions,  he  rushed  into  a  thicket  of 
willows,  where  they  left  him  to  his  fate  ! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SCHEMES  OF  CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE — THE  GREAT 
SALT  LAKE — EXPEDITION  TO  EXPLORE  IT — 
PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  BIG- 
HORN. 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  newfound  himself  at  the 
head  of  a  hardy,  well-seasoned  and  well-appoint- 
ed company  of  trappers,  all  benefited  by  at  least 
one  year's  experience  among  the  mountains,  and 
capable  of  protecting  themselves  from  Indian 
wiles  and  stratagems,  and  of  providing  for  their 
subsistence  wherever  game  was  to  be  found.  He 
had,  also,  an  excellent  troop  of  horses,  in  prime 
condition,  and  fit  for  hard  service.  He  deter- 
mined, therefore,  to  s  rike  out  into  some  of  the 
bolder  parts  of  his  scheme.  One  of  these  was  to 
carry  his  expeditions  into  some  of  the  unknown 
tracts  of  the  Far  West,  beyond  what  is  generally 
termed  the  buffalo  range.  This  would  have 
something  of  the  merit  and  charm  of  discovery, 
so  dear  to  every  brave  and  adventurous  spirit. 
Another  favorite  project  was  to  establish  a  trad- 
ing post  on  the  lower  part  of  the  Columbia  River, 
near  the  Multnomah  valley,  and  to  endeavor  to 
retrieve  for  his  country  some  of  the  lost  trade  oi 
Astoria. 

The  first  of  the  above  mentioned  views  was,  at 
present,  uppermost  in  his  mind — the  exploring  of 
unknown  regions.  Among  the  grand  features  of 
the  wilderness  about  which  he  was  roaming,  one 
had  made  a  vivid  impression  on  his  mind,  and 
been  clothed  by  his  imagination  with  vague  and 
ideal  charms.  This  is  a  great  lake  of  salt  water, 
laving  the  feet  of  the  mountains,  but  extending 
far  to  the  west-southwest,  into  one  of  those  vast 
and  elevated  plateaus  of  land,  which  range  high 
above  the  level  of  the  Pacific. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


Captain  Bonneville'"gives  a  striking  account  of 
the  lake  when  seen  from  the  land.  As  you  as- 
cend the  mountains  about  its  shores,  says  he,  you 
behold  this  immense  body  of  water  spreading 
itself  before  you,  and  stretching  further  and  fur- 
ther, in  one  wide  and  far-reaching  expanse,  until 
the  eye,  wearied  with  continued  and  strained  at- 
tention, rests  in  the  blue  dimness  of  distance, 
upon  lofty  ranges  of  mountains,  confidently  as- 
serted to  rise  from  the  bosom  of  the  waters. 
Nearer  to  you,  the  smooth  and  unruffled  surface 
is  studded  with  little  islands,  where  the  mountain 
sheep  roam  in  considerable  numbers.  What  ex- 
tent of  lowland  may  be  encompassed  by  the  high 
peaks  beyond,  must  remain  for  the  present  matter 
of  mere  conjecture  ;  though  from  the  form  of  the 
summits,  and  the  breaks  which  may  be  discover- 
ed among  them,  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  they 
are  the  sources  of  streams  calculated  to  water 
large  tracts,  which  are  probably  concealed  from 
view  by  the  rotundity  of  the  lake's  surface.  At 
some  future  day,  in  all  probability,  the  rich  har- 
vest of  beaver  lur,  which  may  be  reasonably  an- 
ticipated in  such  a  spot,  will  tempt  adventurers  to 
reduce  all  this  doubtful  region  to  the  palpable 
certainty  of  a  beaten  track.  At  present,  however, 
destitute  of  the  means  of  making  boats,  the  trap- 
per stands  upon  the  shore,  and  gazes  upon  a  prom- 
ised land  which  his  feet  are  never  to  tread. 

Such  is  the  somewhat  fanciful  view  which  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  gives  of  this  great  body  of  water. 
He  has  evidently  taken  part  of  his  ideas  concern- 
ing it  from  the  representations  of  others,  who 
have  somewhat  exaggerated  its  features.  It  is 
reported  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  long,  and  fifty  miles  broad.  The  ranges 
of  mountain  peaks  which  Captain  Bonneville 
speaks  of,  as  rising  from  its  bosom,  are  probably 
the  summits  of  mountains  beyond  it,  which  may 
be  visible  at  a  vast  distance,  when  viewed  from 
an  eminence,  in  the  transparent  atmosphere  of 
these  lolty  regions.  Several  large  islands  certain- 
ly exist  in  the  lake  ;  one  of  which  is  said  to  be 
mountainous,  but  not  by  any  means  to  the  extent 
required  to  furnish  the  series  of  peaks  above  men- 
tioned. 

Captain  Sublette,  in  one  of  his  early  expedi- 
tions across  the  mountains,  is  said  to  have  sent 
lour  men  in  a  skin  canoe,  to  explore  the  lake, 
who  professed  to  have  navigated  all  round  it  ;  but 
to  have  suffered  excessively  from  thirst,  the  water 
of  the  lake  being  extremely  salt,  and  there  being 
no  fresh  streams  running  into  it. 

Captain  Bonneville  doubts  this  report,  or  that 
the  men  accomplished  the  circumnavigation,  be- 
cause, he  says,  the  lake  receives  several  large 
streams  from  the  mountains  which  bound  it  to 
the  east.  In  the  spring,  when  the  streams  are 
swollen  by  rain  and  by  the  melting  of  the  snows, 
the  lake  rises  several  feet  above  its  ordinary 
level  ;  during  the  summer,  it  gradually  subsides 
again,  leaving  a  sparkling  zone  of  the  finest  salt 
upon  its  shores. 

The  elevation  of  the  vast  plateau  on  which  this 
lake  is  situated,  is  estimated  by  Captain  Bonne- 
ville at  one  and  three  fourths  of  a  mile  above  the 
level  of  the  ocean.  The  admirable  purity  and 
transparency  of  the  atmosphere  in  this  region, 
allowing  objects  to  be  seen,  and  the  report  of 
firearms  to  be  heard,  at  an  astonishing  distance  ; 
and  its  extreme  dryness,  causing  the  wheels  of 
wagons  to  fall  in  pieces,  as  instanced  in  former 
passages  of  this  work,  are  proofs  of  the  great  al- 
titude ol  the  Rocky  Mountain  plains.  That  a  body 
of  salt  water  should  exist  at  such  a  height,  is  cited 


as  a  singular  phenomenon  by  Captain  Bonneville, 
though  the  salt  lake  of  Mexico  is  not  much  infe« 
rior  in  elevation.* 

To  have  this  lake  properly  explored,  and  all  its 
secrets  revealed,  was  the  grand  scheme  of  the 
captain  for  the  present  year  ;  and  while  it  was 
one  in  which  his  imagination  evidently  took  a 
leading  part,  he  believed  it  would  be  attended 
with  great  profit,  from  the  numerous  beaver 
streams  with  which  the  lake  must  be  fringed. 

This  momentous  undertaking  he  confided  to  his 
lieutenant,  Mr.  Walker,  in  whose  experience  and 
ability  he  had  great  confidence.  He  instructed 
him  to  keep  along  the  shores  of  the  lake,  and 
trap  in  all  the  streams  on  his  route  ;  also  to  keep 
a  journal,  and  minutely  to  record  the  events  of 
his  journey,  and  everything  curious  or  interest- 
ing, making  maps  or  charts  of  his  route,  and  of 
the  surrounding  country. 

No  pains  nor  expense  were  spared  in  fitting  out 
the  party,  of  forty  men,  which  he  was  to  com- 
mand. They  had  complete  supplies  for  a  year, 
and  were  to  meet  Captain  Bonneville  in  the  ensu- 
ing summer,  in  the  valley  of  Bear  River,  the  larg- 
est tributary  of  the  Salt  Lake,  which  was  to  be  his 
point  of  general  rendezvous. 

The  next  care  of  Captain  Bonneville,  was  to 
arrange  for  the  safe  transportation  of  the  peltries 
which  he  had  collected,  to  the  Atlantic  States. 
Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  the  partner  of  Sublette, 
was  at  this  time  in  the  rendezvous  of  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Fur  Company,  having  brought  up  their 
supplies.  He  was  about  to  set  off  on  his  return, 
with  the  peltries  collected  during  the  year,  and  in- 
tended to  proceed  through  the  Crow  country,  to 
the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Bighorn  River, 
and  to  descend  in  boats  down  that  river,  the  Mis- 
souri, and  the  Yellowstone,  to  St.  Louis. 

Captain  Bonneville  determined  to  forward  his 
peltries  by  the  same  route,  under  the  especial  care 
of  Mr.  Cerre".  By  way  of  escort,  he  would  ac- 
company Cerre"  to  the  point  of  embarkation  and 
then  make  an  autumnal  hunt  in  the  Crow  country. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE  CROW  COUNTRY — A  CROW  PARADISE — HAB- 
ITS OF  THE  CROWS— ANECDOTES  OF  ROSE,  THE 
RENEGADE  WHITE  MAN — HIS  FIGHTS  WITH  THE 
BLACKFEET — HIS  ELEVATION — HIS  DEATH — 
ARAPOOISH,  THE  CROW  CHIEF — HIS  EAGLE — 
ADVENTURE  OF  ROBERT  CAMPBELL — HONOR 
AMONG  CROWS. 

BEFORE  we  accompany  Captain  Bonneville  into 
the  Crow  country,  we  will  impart  a  few  facts 
about  this  wild  region,  and  the  wild  people  who 
inhabit  it.  We  are  not  aware  of  the  precise 
boundaries,  if  there  are  any,  of  the  country  claim- 
ed by  the  Crows  ;  it  appears  to  extend  from  the 
Black  Hills  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  including 
a  part  of  their  lofty  ranges,  and  embracing  many 
of  the  plains  and  valleys  watered  by  the  Wind 
River,  the  Yellowstone,  the  Powder  River,  the 


*  The  lake  of  Tezcuco,  which  surrounds  the  city  of 
Mexico,  the  largest  and  lowest  of  the  five  lakes  in  the 
Mexican  plateau,  and  one  of  the  most  impregnated 
with  saline  particles,  is  seven  thousand  four  hundred 
and  sixty-eight  feet,  or  nearly  one  mile  and  a  half 
above  the  level  of  the  sea. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


313 


Little  Missouri,  and  the  Nebraska.  The  country 
varies  in  soil  and  climate  ;  there  are  vast  plains 
of  sand  and  clay,  studded  with  large  red  sand- 
hills ;  other  parts  are  mountainous  and  pictur- 
esque ;  it  possesses  warm  springs,  and  coal 
mines,  and  abounds  with  game. 

But  let  us  give  the  account  of  the  country  as 
rendered  by  Arapooish,  a  Crow  chief,  to  Mr.  Rob- 
ert Campbell,  ot  the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Com- 
pany. 

"The  Crow  country,"  said  he,  "is  a  good 
country.  The  Great  Spirit  has  put  it  exactly  in 
the  right  place  ;  while  you  are  in  it  you  fare  well  ; 
whenever  you  go  out  df  it,  whichever  way  you 
travel;  you  fare  worse. 

"  If  you  go  to  the  south  you  have  to  wander  over 
great  barren  plains  ;  the  water  is  warm  and  bad, 
and  you  meet  the  fever  and  ague. 

"  To  the  north  it  is  cold;  the  winters  are  long 
and  bitter,  with  no  grass  ;  you  cannot  keep  horses 
there,  but  must  travel  with  dogs.  What  is  a 
country  without  horses  ? 

"  On  the  Columbia  they  are  poor  and  dirty,  pad- 
dle about  in  canoes,  and  eat  fish.  Their  teeth 
are  worn  out  ;  they  are  always  taking  fish-bones 
out  of  their  mouths.  Fish  is  poor  food. 

"  To  the  east,  they  dwell  in  villages  ;  they  live 
well  ;  but  they  drink  the  muddy  water  of  the  Mis- 
souri— that  is  bad.  A  Crow's  dog  would  not 
drink  such  water. 

"  About  the  forks  of  the  Missouri  is  a  fine  coun- 
try ;  good  water  ;  good  grass  ;  plenty  of  buffalo. 
In  summer,  it  is  almost  as  good  as  the  Crow 
country  ;  but  in  winter  it  is  cold  ;  the  grass  is 
gone  ;  and  there  is  no  salt  weed  for  the  horses. 

"  The  Crow  country  is  exactly  in  the  right 
place.  It  has  snowy  mountains  and  sunny 
plains  ;  all  kinds  of  climates  and  good  things  for 
every  season.  When  the  summer  heats  scorch 
the  prairies,  you  can  draw  up  under  the  mountains, 
where  the  air  is  sweet  and  cool,  the  grass  fresh, 
and  the  bright  streams  come  tumbling  out  of  the 
snow-banks.  There  you  can  hunt  the  elk,  the 
deer,  and  the  antelope,  when  their  skins  are  fit 
for  dressing  ;  there  you  will  find  plenty  of  white 
bears  and  mountain  sheep. 

"  In  the  autumn,  when  your  horses  are  fat  and 
strong  from  the  mountain  pastures,  you  can  go 
down  into  the  plains  and  hunt  the  buffalo,  or 
trap  beaver  on  the  streams.  And  when  winter 
comes  on,  you  can  take  shelter  in  the  woody  bot- 
toms along  the  rivers  ;  there  you  will  find  buffalo 
meat  for  yourselves,  and  cotton-wood  bark  for 
your  horses  ;  or  you  may  winter  in  the  Wind 
River  valley,  where  there  is  salt  weed  in  abun- 
dance. 

"  The  Crow  country  is  exactly  in  the  right 
place.  Everything  good  is  to  be  found  there. 
There  is  no  country  like  the  Crow  country." 

Such  is  the  eulogium  on  his  country  by  Ara- 
pooish. 

We  have  had  repeated  occasions  to  speak  of  the 
restless  and  predatory  habits  of  the  Crows.  They 
can  muster  fifteen  hundred  fighting  men  ;  but 
their  incessant  wars  with  the  Blackfeet,  and  their 
vagabond,  predatory  habits,  are  gradually  wear- 
ing them  out. 

In  a  recent  work,  we  related  the  circumstance 
of  a  white  man  named  Rose,  an  outlaw,  and  a  de- 
signing vagabond,  who  acted  as  guide  and  inter- 
preter to  Mr.  Hunt  and  his  party,  on  their  jour- 
ney across  the  mountains  to  Astoria,  who  came 
near  betraying  them  into  the  hands  of  the  Crows, 
and  who  remained  among  the  tribe,  marrying  one 
of  their  women,  and  adopting  their  congenial 


habits.*  A  few  anecdotes  of  the  subsequent  for- 
tunes of  that  renegade  may  not  be  uninteresting, 
especially  as  they  are  connected  with  the  fortunes 
of  the  tribe. 

Rose  was  powerful  in  frame  and  fearless  in 
spirit  ;  and  soon  by  his  daring  deeds  took  his 
rank  among  the  first  braves  of  the  iribe.  He  as- 
pired to  command,  and  knew  it  was  only  to  be 
attained  by  desperate  exploits.  He  distinguished 
himself  in  repeated  actions  with  the  Blackfeet.  On 
one  occasion,  a  band  of  those  savages  had  forti- 
fied themselves  within  a  breastwork,  and  could 
not  be  harmed.  Rose  proposed  to  storm  the  work. 
"Who  will  take  the  lead?"  was  the  demand. 
"  I  !"  cried  he  ;  and  putting  himself  at  their  head, 
rushed  forward.  The  first  Blackfoot  that  opposed 
him  he  shot  down  with  his  rifle,  and  snatching 
up  the  war-club  of  his  victim  killed  four  others 
within  the  fort.  The  victory  was  complete,  and 
Rose  returned  to  the  Crow  village  covered  with 
glory,  and  bearing  five  Blackfoot  scalps,  to  be 
erected  as  a  trophy  before  his  lodge.  From  this 
time  he  was  known  among  the  Crows  by  the  name 
of  Che-ku-kaats,  or  "  the  man  who  killed  five." 
He  became  chief  of  the  village,  or  rather  band, 
and  for  a  time  was  the  popular  idol.  His  popu- 
larity soon  awakened  envy  among  the  native 
braves  ;  he  was  a  stranger,  an  intruder  ;  a  white 
man.  A  party  seceded  from  his  command. 
Feuds  and  civil  wars  succeeded  that  lasted  for 
two  or  three  years,  until  Rose,  having  contrived 
to  set  his  adopted  brethren  by  the  ears,  left  them, 
and  went  down  the  Missouri  in  1823.  Here  he 
fell  in  with  one  of  the  earliest  trapping  expeditions 
sent  by  General  Ashley  across  the  mountains.  It 
was  conducted  by  Smith,  Fitzpatrick,  and  Sub- 
lette.  Rose  enlisted  with  them  as  guide  and  in- 
terpreter. When  he  got  them  among  the  Crows, 
he  was  exceedingly  generous  with  their  goods  ; 
making  presents  to  the  braves  of  his  adopted  tribe, 
as  became  a  high-minded  chief. 

This  doubtless,  helped  to  revive  his  popularity. 
In  that  expedition,  Smith  and  Fitzpatrick  were 
robbed  of  their  horses  in  Green  River  valley  ;  the 
place  where  the  robbery  took  place  still  bears  the 
name  of  Horse  Creek.  We  are  not  informed 
whether  the  horses  were  stolen  through  the  insti- 
gation and  management  of  Rose  ;  it  is  not  im- 
probable, for  such  was  the  perfidy  he  had  intend- 
ed to  practise  on  a  former  occasion  toward  Mr. 
Hunt  and  his  party. 

The  last  anecdote  we  have  of  Rose  is  from  an 
Indian  trader.  When  General  Atkinson  made  his 
military  expedition  up  the  Missouri,  in  1825,  to 
protect  the  fur  trade,  he  held  a  conference  with 
the  Crow  nation,  at  which  Rose  figured  as  Indian 
dignitary  and  Crow  interpreter.  The  military 
were  stationed  at  some  little  distance  from  the 
scene  of  the  "  big  talk."  While  the  general  and 
the  chiefs  were  smoking  pipes  and  making 
speeches,  the  officers,  supposing  all  was  friendly, 
left  the  troops  and  drew  near  the  scene  of  cere- 
monial. Some  of  the  more  knowing  Crows,  per- 
ceiving this,  stole  quietly  to  the  camp,  and,  un- 
observed, contrived  to  stop  the  touch-holes  of  the 
field  pieces  with  dirt.  Shortly  after  a  misunder- 
standing occurred  in  the  conference  ;  some  of 
the  Indians,  knowing  the  cannon  to  be  useless, 
became  insolent.  A  tumult  arose.  In  the  con- 
fusion Colonel  O'Fallan  snapped  a  pistol  in  the 
face  of  a  brave,  and  knocked  him  down  with  the 
butt  end.  The  Crows  were  all  in  a  fury.  A 
chance  medley  fight  was  on  the  point  Of  taking 


*  See  Astoria. 


314 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


place,  when  Rose,  his  natural  sympathies  as  a 
white  man  suddenly  recurring,  broke  the  stock 
of  his  fusee  over  the  head  of  a  Crow  warrior,  and 
laid  so  vigorously  about  him  with  the  barrel,  that 
he  soon  put  the  whole  throng  to  flight.  Luckily, 
as  no  lives  had  been  lost,  this  sturdy  ribroasting 
calmed  the  fury  of  the  Crows,  and  the  tumult  end- 
ed without  serious  consequences. 

What  was  the  ultimate  fate  of  this  vagabond 
hero  is  not  distinctly  known.  Some  report  him  to 
have  fallen  a  victim  to  disease,  brought  on  by  his 
licentious  life  ;  others  assert  that  he  was  murdered 
in  a  feud  among  the  Crows.  After  all,  his  resi- 
dence among  these  savages,  and  the  influence  he 
acquired  over  them  had,  for  a  time,  some  bene- 
ficial effects.  He  is  said,  not  merely  to  have  ren- 
dered them  more  formidable  to  the  Blackfeet.  but 
to  have  opened  their  eyes  to  the  policy  of  culti- 
vating the  friendship  of  the  white  men. 

After  Rose's  death,  his  policy  continued  to  be 
cultivated,  with  indifferent  success,  by  Arapooish, 
the  chief  already  mentioned,  who  had  been  his 
great  friend,  and  whose  character  he  had  con- 
tributed to  develope.  This  sagacious  chief  en- 
deavored, on  every  occasion,  to  restrain  the  pre- 
datory propensities  of  his  tribe  when  directed 
against  the  white  men.  "  If  we  keep  friends  with 
them,"  said  he,  "we  have  nothing  to  fear  from 
the  Blackfeet,  and  can  rule  the  mountains." 
Arapooish  pretended  to  be  a  great  "  medicine 
man  ;"  a  character  among  the  Indians  which  is  a 
compound  of  priest,  doctor,  prophet,  and  conjurer. 
He  carried  about  with  him  a  tame  eagle,  as  his 
"  medicine"  or  familiar.  With  the  white  men, 
he  acknowledged  that  this  was  all  charlatanism  ; 
but  said  it  was  necessary,  to  give  him  weight  and 
influence  among  his  people. 

Mr.  Robert  Campbell,  from  whom  we  have 
most  of  these  facts,  in  the  course  of  one  of  his 
trapping  expeditions,  was- quartered  in  the  village 
of  Arapooish,  and  a  guest  in  the  lodge  of  the 
chieftain.  He  had  collected  a  large  quantity  of 
furs,  and,  fearful  of  being  plundered,  deposited 
but  a  part  in  the  lodge  of  the  chief  ;  the  rest  he 
buried  in  a  cache.  One  night,  Arapooish  came 
into  the  lodge  with  a  cloudy  brow,  and  seated 
himself  for  a  time  without  saying  a  word.  At 
length,  turning  to  Campbell,  "  You  have  more 
furs  with  you,"  said  he,  "  than  you  have  brought 
into  my  lodge  ?" 

"  I  have,"  replied  Campbell. 

"  Where  are  they  ?" 

Campbell  knew  the  uselessness  of  any  prevari- 
cation with  an  Indian  ;  and  the  importance  of 
complete  frankness.  He  described  the  exact 
place  where  he  had  concealed  his  peltries. 

" 'Tis  well,"  replied  Arapooish;  "you  speak 
straight.  It  is  just  as  you  say.  But  your  cache 
has  been  robbed.  Go  and  see  how  many  skins 
have  been  taken  from  it." 

Campbell  examined  the  cache,  and  estimated 
his  loss  to  be  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  beaver 
skins.  Arapooish  now  summoned  a  meeting  of 
the  village.  He  bitterly  reproached  his  people 
lor  robbing  a  stranger  who  had  confided  to  their 
honor  ;  and  commanded  that  whoever  had  taken 
the  skins,  should  bring  them  back  ;  declaring 
that,  as  Campbell  was  his  guest  and  inmate  of  his 
lodge,  he  would  not  eat  nor  drink  until  every  skin 
was  restored  to  him. 

The  meeting  broke  up,  and  everyone  dispersed. 
Arapooish  now  charged  Campbell  to  give  neither 
reward  nor  thanks  to  any  one  who  should  bring 
in  the  beaver  skins,  but  to  keep  count  as  they  were 
delivered. 


In  a  little  while  the  skins  began  to  make  their 
appearance,  a  few  at  a  time  ;  they  were  laid  down 
in  the  lodge,  and  those  who  brought  them  depart- 
ed without  saying  a  word.  The  day  passed  away. 
Arapooish  sat  in  one  corner  of  his  lodge,  wrapped 
up  in  his  robe,  scarcely  moving  a  muscle  ot  his 
countenance.  When  night  arrived,  he  demanded 
if  all  the  skins  had  been  brought  in.  Above  a 
hundred  had  been  given  up,  and  Campbell  ex- 
pressed himself  contented.  Not  so  the  Crow  chief- 
tain. He  fasted  all  that  night,  nor  tasted  a  drop 
of  water.  In  the  morning  some  more  skins  were 
brought  in,  and  continued  to  come,  one  and  two 
at  a  time,  throughout  fhe  day  ;  until  but  a  few 
were  wanting  to  make  the  number  complete. 
Campbell  was  now  anxious  to  put  an  end  to  this 
fasting  of  the  old  chief,  and  again  declared  that 
he  was  perfectly  satisfied.  Arapooish  demanded 
what  number  of  skins  were  yet  wanting.  On 
being  told,  he  whispered  to  some  of  his  people, 
who  disappeared.  After  a  time  the  number  were 
brought  in,  though  it  was  evident  they  were  not 
any  of  the  skins  that  had  been  stolen,  but  others 
gleaned  in  the  village. 

"  Is  all  right  now  ?"  demanded  Arapooish. 

"  All  is  right,"  replied  Campbell. 

"  (iood  !     Now  bring  me  meat  and  drink  !" 

When  they  were  alone  together,  Arapooish  had 
a  conversation  with  his  guest. 

"  When  you  come  another  time  among  the 
Crows,"  said  he,  "  don't  hide  your  goods  ;  trust 
to  them  and  they  will  not  wrong  you.  Put  your 
goods  in  the  lodge  ot  a  chief,  and  they  are  sacred  ; 
hide  them  in  a  cache,  and  any  one  who  finds  will 
steal  them.  My  people  have  now  given  up  your 
goods  for  my  sake  ;  but  there  are  some  foolish 
young  men  in  the  village  who  may  be  disposed  to 
be  troublesome.  Don't  linger,  therefore,  but 
pack  your  horses  and  be  off." 

Campbell  took  his  advice,  and  made  his  way 
safely  out  of  the  Crow  country.  He  has  ever 
since  maintained  that  the  Crows  are  not  so  black 
as  they  are  painted.  "  Trust  to  their  honor," 
says  he,  "and  you  are  safe  ;  trust  to  their  hon- 
esty, and  they  will  steal  the  hair  off  your  head." 

Having  given  these  few  preliminary  particulars, 
we  will  resume  the  course  of  our  narrative. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

DEPARTURE  FROM  GREEN  RIVER  VALLEY— POPO 
AGIE— ITS  COURSE— THE  RIVERS  INTO  WHICH 
IT  RUNS — SCENERY  OF  THE  BLUFFS — THE 
GREAT  TAR  SPRING — VOLCANIC  TRACTS  IN 
THE  CROW  COUNTRY — BURNING  MOUNTAIN 
OF  POWDER  RIVER— SULPHUR  SPRINGS— HID- 
DEN FIRES — COLTER'S  HELL — WIND  RIVER — 
CAMPBELL'S  PARTY — FITZPATRICK  AND  HIS 
TRAPPERS— CAPTAIN  STEWART,  AN  AMATEUR 
TRAVELLER— NATHANIEL  WYETH — ANECDOTES 
OF  HIS  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  FAR  WEST— DIS- 
ASTER OF  CAMPBELL'S  PARTY — A  UNION  OF 

BANDS — THE  BAD  PASS — THE  RAPIDS — DEPAR- 
TURE OF  FITZPATRICK — EMBARKATION  OF 
PELTRIES — WYETH  AND  HIS  BULL  BOAT— AD- 
VENTURES OF  CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  IN  THE 
BIGHORN  MOUNTAINS— ADVENTURES  IN  THE 
PLAIN  —  TRACES  OF  INDIANS  —  TRAVELLING 
PRECAUTIONS — DANGERS  OF  MAKING  A  SMOKE 
— THE  RENDEZVOUS. 

ON   the  25th  of  July  Captain  Bonneville  struck 
his  tents,  and  set  out  on  his  route  for  the  Bighorn, 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


315 


at  the  head  of  a  party  of  fifty-six  men,  including 
those  who  were  to  embark  with  Cerre.  Crossing 
the  Green  River  Valley,  he  proceeded  along  the 
south  point  of  the  Wind  River  range  of  moun- 
tains, and  soon  fell  upon  the  track  of  Mr.  Robert 
Campbell's  party,  which  had  preceded  him  by  a 
day.  This  he  pursued,  until  he  perceived  that  it 
led  down  the  banks  of  the  Sweet  Water  to  the 
southeast.  As  this  was  different  from  his  pro- 
posed direction,  he  left  it  ;  and  turning  to  the 
northeast,  soon  came  upon  the  waters  ol  the  Popo 
Agie.  This  stream  takes  its  rise  in  the  Wind 
River  Mountains.  Its  name,  like  most  Indian 
names,  is  characteristic.  Popo,  in  the  Crow  lan- 
guage signifying  head  ;  and  Agie,  river.  It  is  the 
head  of  along  river,  extending  from  the  south  end 
of  the  Wind  River  Mountains  in  a  northeast  direc- 
tion, until  it  falls  into  the  Yellowstone.  Its  course 
is  generally  through  plains,  but  is  twice  crossed 
by  chains  of  mountains  ;  the  first  called  the  Little- 
horn,  the  second  the  Bighorn.  After  it  has  forced 
its  way  through  the  first  chain,  it  is  called  the  Horn 
River.  After  the  second  chain  it  is  called  the  Big- 
horn River.  Its  passage  through  this  last  chain 
is  rough  and  violent  ;  making  repeated  falls,  and 
rushing  down  long  and  furious  rapids,  which 
threaten  destruction  to  the  navigator  ;  though  a 
hardy  trapper  is  said  to  have  shot  down  them  in  a 
canoe.  At  the  foot  of  these  rapids,  is  the  head  of 
navigation,  where  it  was  the  intention  of  the  par- 
ties to  construct  boats,  and  embark. 

Proceeding  down  along  the  Popo  Agie,  Captain 
Bonneville  came  again  in  full  view  of  the  "  Bluffs," 
as  they  are  called,  extending  from  the  base  of  the 
Wind  River  Mountains  far  away  to  the  east,  and 
presenting  to  the  eye  a  confusion  of  hills  and  cliffs 
of  red  sandstone,  some  peaked  and  angular,  some 
round,  some  broken  into  crags  and  precipices, 
and  piled  up  in  fantastic  masses  ;  but  all  naked 
and  sterile.  There  appeared  to  be  no  soil  favor- 
able to  vegetation,  nothing  but  coarse  gravel  ; 
yet,  over  all  this  isolated,  barren  landscape,  were 
diffused  such  atmospherical  tints  and  hues,  as  to 
blend  the  whole  into  harmony  and  beauty. 

In  this  neighborhood,  the  captain  made  search 
for  "  the  great  Tar  Spring,"  one  of  the  wonders 
of  the  mountains  ;  the  medicinal  properties  of 
which,  he  had  heard  extravagantly  lauded  by  the 
trappers.  After  a  toilsome  search,  he  found  it  at 
the  foot  of  a  sand-bluff,  a  little  to  the  east  of  the 
Wind  River  Mountains  ;  where  it  exuded  in  a  small 
stream  of  the  color  and  consistency  of  tar.  The 
men  immediately  hastened  to  collect  a  quantity  of 
it,  to  use  as  an  ointment  for  the  galled  backs  of 
their  horses,  and  as  a  balsam  for  their  own  pains 
and  aches.  From  the  description  given  of  it,  it  is 
evidently  the  bituminous  oil,  called  petroleum  or 
naphtha,  which  forms  a  principal  ingredient  in  the 
potent  medicine  called  British  Oil.  It  is  found  in 
various  parts  of  Europe  and  Asia,  in  several  of 
the  West  India  islands,  and  in  some  places  of  the 
United  States.  In  the  State  of  New  York,  it  is 
called  Seneca  Oil,  from  being  found  near  the 
Seneca  lake. 

The  Crow  country  has  other  natural  curiosi- 
ties, which  are  held  in  superstitious  awe  by  the 
Indians,  and  considered  great  marvels  by  the 
trappers.  Such  is  the  Burning  Mountain,  on 
Powder  River,  abounding  with  anthracite  coal. 
Here  the  earth  is  hot  and  cracked  ;  in  many 
places  emitting  smoke  and  sulphurous  vapors,  as 
if  covering  concealed  fires.  A  volcanic  tract  of 
similar  character  is  found  on  Stinking  River,  one 
ot  the  tributaries  of  the  Bighorn,  which  takes  its 
unhappy  name  from  the  odor  derived  irom  sul- 


phurous springs  and  streams.  This  last  men- 
tioned place  was  first  discovered  by  Colter,  a 
hunter  belonging  to  Lewis  and  Clarke's  exploring 
party,  who  came  upon  it  in  the  course  of  his  lone- 
ly wanderings,  and  gave  such  an  account  ot  its 
gloomy  terrors,  its  hidden  fires,  smoking  pits, 
noxious  steams,  and  the  all-pervading  "  smell  of 
brimstone,"  that  it  received,  and  has  ever  since 
retained  among  trappers,  the  name  of  "  Colter's 
Hell  !" 

Resuming  his  descent  along  the  left  bank  of  the 
Popo  Agie,  Captain  Bonneville  soon  reached  the 
plains  ;  where  he  found  several  large  streams  en- 
tering from  the  west.  Among  these  was  Wind 
River,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  mountains 
among  which  it  takes  its  rise.  This  is  one  of  the 
most  important  streams  of  the  Crow  country. 
The  river  being  much  swollen,  Captain  Bonneville 
halted  at  its  mouth,  and  sent  out  scouts  to  look 
for  a  fording  place.  While  thus  encamped,  he 
beheld  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  a  long  line  of 
horsemen  descending  the  slope  ot  the  hills  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  Popo  Agie.  His  first  idea 
was,  that  they  were  Indians  ;  he  soon  discovered, 
however,  that  they  were  white  men,  and,  by  the 
long  line  of  pack-horses,  ascertained  them  to  be 
the  convoy  of  Campbell,  which,  having  descended 
the  Sweet  Water,  was  now  on  its  way  to  the  Horn 
River. 

The  two  parties  came  together  two  or  three 
days  afterward,  on  the  4th  of  August,  after  having, 
passed  through  the  gap  of  the  Littlehorn  Moun- 
tain. In  company  with  Campbell's  convoy,  was 
a  trapping  party  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Company, 
headed  by  Fitzpatrick  ;  who,  after  Campbell's 
embarkation  on  the  Bighorn,  was  to  take  charge 
of  all  the  horses,  and  proceed  on  a  trapping  cam- 
paign. There  were,  moreover,  two  chance  com- 
panions in  the  rival  camp.  One  was  Captain 
Stewart,  of  the  British  army,  a  gentleman  of  noble 
connections,  who  was  amusing  himself  by  a  wan- 
ering  tour  in  the  Far  West  ;  in  the  course  of 
which,  he  had  lived  in  hunter's  style  ;  accom- 
panying various  bands  of  traders,  trappers,  and 
Indians  ;  and  --manifesting  that  relish  for  the 
wilderness  that  belongs  to  men  of  game  spirit. 

The  other  casual  inmate  of  Mr.  Campbell's 
camp  was  Mr.  Nathaniel  Wyeth  ;  the  self-same 
leader  of  the  band  of  New  England  salmon 
fishers,  with  whom  we  parted  company  in  the 
valley  of  Pierre's  Hole,  after  the  battle  with  the 
Blackfeet.  A  few  days  after  that  affair,  he  again 
set  out  from  the  rendezvous  in  company  with  Mil- 
ton Sublette  and  his  brigade  of  trappers.  On  his 
march,  he  visited  the  battle  ground,  and  pene- 
trated to  the  deserted  fort  of  the  Blackfeet  in  the 
midst  of  the  wood.  It  was  a  dismal  scene.  The 
fort  was  strewed  with  the  mouldering  bodies  of 
the  slain  ;  while  vultures  soared  aloft,  or  sat 
brooding  on  the  trees  around  ;  and  Indian  dogs 
howled  about  the  place,  as  if  bewailing  the  death 
of  their  masters.  Wyeth  travelled  for  a  consider- 
able distance  to  the  southwest,  in  company  with 
Milton  Sublette,  when  they  separated  ;  and  the 
former,  with  eleven  men,  the  remnant  of  his 
band,  pushed  on  for  Snake  River  ;  kept  down  the 
course  of  that  eventful  stream  ;  traversed  the  Blue 
Mountains,  trapping  beaver  occasionally  by  the 
way,  and  finally,  after  hardships  of  all  kinds,  ar- 
rived on  the  29th  of  October,  at  Vancouver,  on 
the  Columbia,  the  main  factory  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company. 

He  experienced  hospitable  treatment  at  the 
hands  of  the  agents  of  that  company  ;  but  his 
men,  heartily  tired  of  wandering  in  the  wilder- 


316 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


ness,  or  tempted  by  other  prospects,  refused,  for 
the  most  part,  to  continue  any  longer  in  his  ser- 
vice. Some  set  off  for  the  Sandwich  Islands  ; 
some  entered  into  other  employ.  Wyeth  found, 
too,  that  a  great  part  of  the  goods  he  had  brought 
with  him  were  unfitted  for  the  Indian  trade  ;  in  a 
word,  his  expedition,  undertaken  entirely  on  his 
pvn  resources,  proved  a  failure.  He  lost  everything 
invested  in  it,  but  his  hopes.  These  were  as  strong 
as  ever.  He  took  note  of  everything,  therefore, 
that  could  be  of  service  to  him  in  the  further 
prosecution  of  his  project  ;  collected  all  the  infor- 
mation within  his  reach,  and  then  set  off,  accom- 
panied by  merely  two  men,  on  his  return  journey 
across  the  continent.  He  had  got  thus  far  "  by 
hook  and  by  crook,"  a  mode  in  which  a  New 
England  man  can  make  his  way  all  over  the 
world,  and  through  all  kinds  of  difficulties,  and 
was  now  bound  for  Boston  ;  in  full  confidence  of 
being  able  to  form  a  company  for  the  salmon 
fishery  and  fur  trade  of  the  Columbia. 

The  party  of  Mr.  Campbell  had  met  with  a  dis- 
aster in  the  course  of  their  route  from  the  Sweet 
Water.  Three  or  four  of  the  men,  who  were 
reconnoitring  the  country  in  advance  of  the  main 
body,  were  visited  one  night  in  their  camp,  by  fif- 
teen or  twenty  Shoshonies.  Considering  this  tribe 
as  perfectly  friendly,  they  received  them  in  the 
most  cordial  and  confiding  manner.  In  the  course 
of  the  night,  the  man  on  guard  near  the  horses  fell 
sound  asleep  ;  upon  which  a  Shoshonie  shot  him 
in  the  head,  and  nearly  killed  him.  The  savages 
them  made  off  with  the  horses,  leaving  the  rest 
of  the  party  to  find  their  way  to  the  main  body  on 
foot. 

The  rival  companies  of  Captain  Bonneville  and 
Mr.  Campbell,  thus  fortuitously  brought  together, 
now  prosecuted  their  journey  in  great  good  fel- 
lowship ;  forming  a  joint  camp  of  about  a  hundred 
men.  The  captain,  however,  began  to  entertain 
doubts  that  Fitzpatrick  and  his  trappers,  who  kept 
profound  silence  as  to  their  future  movements,  in- 
tended to  hunt  the  same  grounds  which  he  had 
selected  for  his  autumnal  campaign  ;  which  lay 
to  the  west  of  the  Horn  River,  -on  its  tributary 
streams.  In  the  course  of  his  march,  therefore, 
he  secretly  detached  a  small  party  of  trappers,  to 
make  their  way  to  those  hunting  grounds,  while 
he  continued  on  with  the  main  body  ;  appointing 
a  rendezvous  at  the  next  full  moon,  about  the  28th 
of  August,  at  a  place  called  the  Medicine  Lodge. 

On  reaching  the  second  chain,  called  the  Big- 
horn Mountains,  where  the  river  forced  its  im- 
petuous way  through  a  precipitous  defile,  with 
cascades  and  rapids,  the  travellers  were  obliged 
to  leave  its  banks,  and  traverse  the  mountains  by  a 
rugged  and  frightful  route  emphatically  called  the 
"  Bad  Pass."  Descending  the  opposite  side, 
they  again  made  for  the  river  banks  ;  and  about 
the  middle  of  August,  reached  the  point  below  the 
rapids,  where  the  river  becomes  navigable  for 
boats.  Here  Captain  Bonneville  detached  a  sec- 
ond party  of  trappers,  consisting  of  ten  men,  to 
seek  and  join  those  whom  he  had  detached  while 
on  the  route,  appointing  for  them  the  same  ren- 
dezvous (at  the  Medicine  Lodge),  on  the  28th  of 
August. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  construct  "  bull 
boats,"  as  they  are  technically  called  ;  a  light, 
fragile  kind  of  bark,  characteristic  of  the  expedi- 
ents and  inventions  of  the  wilderness  ;  being 
formed  of  buffalo  skins,  stretched  on  frames. 
They  are  sometimes,  also,  called  skin  boats. 
Wyeth  was  the  first  ready  ;  and,  with  his  usual 
promptness  and  hardihood  launched  his  frail  bark 


singly,  on  this  wild  and  hazardous  voyage,  clown 
an  almost  interminable  succession  of  rivers,  wind- 
ing through  countries  teeming  with  savage 
hordes.  Milton  Sublette,  his  former  fellow  travel- 
ler, and  his  companion  in  the  battle  scenes  of 
Pierre's  Hole,  took  passage  in  his  boat.  His  crew 
consisted  of  two  white  men,  and  two  Indians. 
We  shall  hear  further  of  Wyeth,  and  his  wild  voy- 
age in  the  course  of  our  wanderings  about  the  Far 
West. 

The  remaining  parties  soon  completed  their 
several  armaments.  That  of  Captain  Bonneville 
was  composed  of  three  bull  boats,  in  which  he 
embarked  all  his  peltries,  giving  them  in  charge 
of  Mr.  Cerre,  with  a  party  of  thirty-six  men.  Mr. 
Campbell  took  command  of  his  own  boats,  and 
the  little  squadrons  were  soon  gliding  clown  the 
bright  current  of  the  Bighorn. 

The  secret  precautions  which  Captain  Bonne- 
ville had  taken  to  throw  his  men  first  into  the  trap- 
ping ground  west  of  the  Bighorn,  were,  probably, 
superfluous.  It  did  not  appear  that  Fitzpatrick 
had  intended  to  hunt  in  that  direction.  The  mo- 
ment Mr.  Campbell  and  his  men  embarked  with  the 
peltries  Fitzpatrick  took  charge  of  all  the  horses, 
amounting  to  above  a  hundred,  and  struck  off  to 
the  east,  to  trap  upon  Littlehorn,  Powder  and 
Tongue  Rivers.  He  was  accompanied  by  Captain 
Stewart,  who  was  desirous  of  having  a  range 
about  the  Crow  country.  Of  the  adventures  they 
met  with  in  that  region  of  vagabonds  and  horse 
stealers,  we  shall  have  something  to  relate  here- 
after. 

Captain  Bonneville  being  now  left  to  prosecute 
his  trapping  campaign  without  rivalry,  set  out,  on 
the  i/th  of  August,  for  the  rendezvous  at  Medi- 
cine Lodge.  He  had  but  four  men  remaining 
with  him,  and  forty-six  horses  to  take  care  of  ; 
with  these  he  had  to  make  his  way  over  mountain 
and  plain,  through  a  marauding,  horse-stealing 
region,  full  of  peril  for  a  numerous  cavalcade  so 
slightly  manned.  He  addressed  himself  to  his 
difficult  journey,  however,  with  his  usual  alacrity 
of  spirit. 

In  the  afternoon  of  his  first  day's  journey,  on 
drawing  near  to  the  Bighorn  Mountain,  on  the 
summit  of  which  he  intended  to  encamp  for  the 
night,  he  observed,  to  his  disquiet,  a  cloud  of 
smoke  rising  from  its  base.  He  came  to  a  halt, 
and  watched  it  anxiously.  It  was  very  irregu- 
lar ;  sometimes  it  would  almost  die  away  ;  and 
then  would  mount  up  in  heavy  volumes.  There 
was,  apparently  a  large  party  encamped  there  ; 
probably,  some  ruffian  horde  of  Blackfeet.  At 
any  rate,  it  would  not  do  for  so  small  a  number  of 
men,  with  so  numerous  a  cavalcade,  to  venture 
within  sight  of  any  wandering  tribe.  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  companions,  therefore,  avoided 
this  dangerous  neighborhood  ;  and,  proceeding 
with  extreme  caution,  reached  the  summit  of  the 
mountain,  apparently  without  being  discovered. 
Here  they  found  a  deserted  Blackfoot  -fort,  in 
which  they  ensconced  themselves  ;  disposed  of 
everything  as  securely  as  possible,  and  passed  the 
night  without  molestation.  Early  the  next  morn- 
ing they  descended  the  south  side  of  the  mountain 
into  the  great  plain  extending  between  it  and  the 
Littlehorn  range.  Here  they  soon  came  upon 
numerous  footprints,  and  the  carcasses  of  buffa- 
loes ;  by  which  they  knew  there  must  be  Indians 
not  far  off.  Captain  Bonneville  now  began  to  feel 
solicitude  about  the  two  small  parties  of  trappers 
which  he  had  detached,  lest  the  Indians  should 
have  come  upon  them  before  they  had  united  their 
forces.  But  he  felt  still  more  solicitude  about  his 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


317 


own  party  ;  for  it  was  hardly  to  be  expected  he 
could  traverse  these  naked  plains  undiscovered, 
when  Indians  were  abroad  ;  and  should  he  be  dis- 
covered, his  chance  would  be  a  desperate  one. 
Everything  now  depended  upon  the  greatest  cir- 
cumspection. It  was  dangerous  to  discharge  a 
gun  or  light  a  fire,  or  make  the  least  noise,  where 
such  quick-eared  and  quick-sighted  enemies  were 
at  hand.  In  the  course  of  the  day  they  saw  in- 
dubitable signs  that  the  buffalo  had  been  roaming 
there  in  great  numbers,  and  had  recently  been 
frightened  away.  That  night  they  encamped  with 
the  greatest  care  ;  and  threw  up  a  strong  breast- 
work for  their  protection. 

For  the  two  succeeding  days  they  pressed  for- 
ward rapidly,  but  cautiously,  across  the  great 
plain  ;  fording  the  tributary  streams  of  the  Horn 
River;  encamping  one  night  among  thickets  ;  the 
next,  on  an  island  ;  meeting,  repeatedly,  with 
traces  of  Indians  ;  and  now  and  then,  in  passing 
through  a  defile  experiencing  alarms  that  induced 
them  to  cock  their  rifles. 

On  the  last  day  of  their  march  hunger  got  the 
better  of  their  caution,  and  they  shot  a  fine  buffalo 
bull  at  the  risk  of  being  betrayed  by  the  report. 
They  did  not  halt  to  make  a  meal,  but  carried  the 
meat  on  with  them  to  the  place  of  rendezvous,  the 
Medicine  Lodge,  where  they  arrived  safely,  in  the 
evening,  and  celebrated  their  arrival  by  a  hearty 
supper. 

The  next  morning  they  erected  a  strong  pen  for 
the  horses,  and  a  fortress  of  logs  tor  themselves  ; 
and  continued  to  observe  the  greatest  /caution. 
Their  cocking  was  all  done  at  mid-day,  when  the 
fire  makes  no  glare,  and  a  moderate  smoke  can- 
not be  perceived  at  any  great  distance.  In  the 
morning  and  the  evening,  when  the  wind  is  lulled, 
the  smoke  rises  perpendicularly  in  a  blue  column, 
or  floats  in  light  clouds  above  the  tree-tops,  and 
can  be  discovered  from  afar. 

In  this  way  the  little  party  remained  for  several 
days,  cautiously  encamped,  until,  on  the  2gth  of 
August,  the  two  detachments  they  had  been  ex- 
pecting, arrived  together  at  the  rendezvous. 
They,  as  usual,  had  their  several  tales  of  adven- 
tures to  relate  to  the  captain,  which  we  will  fur- 
nish to  the  reader  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

ADVENTURES  OF  THE  PARTY  OF  TEN — THE 
BALAAMITE  MULE — A  DEAD  POINT — THE  MYS- 
TERIOUS ELKS — A  NIGHT  ATTACK — A  RETREAT 
—TRAVELLING  UNDER  AN  ALARM — A  JOYFUL 
MEETING — ADVENTURES  OF  THE  OTHER  PARTY 
— A  DECOY  ELK — RETREAT  TO  AN  ISLAND — A 
SAVAGE  DANCE  OF  TRIUMPH— ARRIVAL  AT 
WIND  RIVER. 

THE  adventures  of  the  detachment  of  ten  are 
the  first  in  order.  These  trappers,  when  they 
separated  from  Captain  Bonneville  at  the  place 
where  the  furs  were  embarked,  proceeded  to  the 
foot  of  the  Bighorn  Mountain,  and  having  en- 
camped, one  of  them  mounted  his  mule  and  went 
out  to  set  his  trap  in  a  neighboring  stream.  He 
had  not  proceeded  far  when  his  steed  came  to  a 
full  stop.  The  trapper  kicked  and  cudgelled,  but 
to  every  blow  and  kick  the  mule  snorted  and 
kicked  up,  but  still  refused  to  budge  an  inch. 
The  rider  now  cast  his  eyes  warily  around  in 
search  of  some  cause  for  this  demur,  when,  to  his 


dismay,  he  discovered  an  Indian  fort  within  gun- 
shot distance,  lowering  through  the  twilight.  In 
a  twinkling  he  wheeled  about  ;  his  mule  now 
seemed  as  eager  to  get  on  as  himself,  and  in  a  few 
moments  brought  him,  clattering  with  his  traps, 
among  his  comrades.  He  was  jeered  at  for  his 
alacrity  in  retreating  ;  his  report  was  treated  as  a 
false  alarm;  his  brother  trappers  contented  them- 
selves with  reconnoitring  the  fort  at  a  distance, 
and  pronounced  that  it  was  deserted. 

As  night  set  in,  the  usual  precaution,  enjoined 
by  Captain  Bonneville  on  his  men  was  observed. 
The  horses  were  brought  in  and  tied,  and  a  guard 
stationed  over  them.  This  done,  the  men 
wrapped  themselves  in  their  blankets,  stretched 
themselves  before  the  fire,  and  being  fatigued  with 
a  long  day's  march,  and  gorged  with  a  hearty  sup- 
per, were  soon  in  a  profound  sleep. 

The  camp  fires  gradually  died  away  ;  all  was 
dark  and  silent  ;  the  sentinel  stationed  to  watch 
the  horses  had  marched  as  far,  and  supped  as 
heartily  as  any  of  his  companions,  and  while  they 
snored,  he  began  to  nod  at  his  post.  After  a  time, 
a  low  trampling  noise  reached  his  ear.  He  half 
opened  his  closing  eyes,  and  beheld  two  or  three 
elks  moving  about  the  lodges,  picking,  and  smell- 
ing, and  grazing  here  and  there.  The  sight  of  elk 
within  the  purlieus  of  the  camp  caused  some  little 
surprise  ;  but,  having  had  his  supper,  he  cared 
not  for  elk  meat,  and,  suffering  them  to  graze 
about  unmolested,  soon  relapsed  into  a  doze. 

Suddenly,  belore  daybreak,  a  discharge  of  fire- 
arms, and  a  struggle  and  tramp  of  horses,  made 
every  one  start  to  his  feet.  The  first  move  was 
to  secure  the  horses.  Some  were  gone  ;  others 
were  struggling,  and  kicking,  and  trembling,  for 
there  was  a  horrible  uproar  of  whoops,  and  yells, 
and  firearms.  Several  trappers  stole  quietly  from 
the  camp,  and  succeeded  in  driving  in  the  horses 
which  had  broken  away  ;  the  rest  were  tethered 
still  more  strongly.  A  breastwork  was  thrown 
up  of  saddles,  baggage,  and  camp  furniture,  and 
all  hands  waited  anxiously  for  daylight.  The  In- 
dians, in  the  meantime,  collected  on  a  neighbor- 
ing height,  kept  up  the  most  horrible  clamor,  in 
hopes  of  striking  a  panic  into  the  camp,  or  fright- 
ening off  the  horses.  When  the  day  dawned,  the 
trappers  attacked  them  briskly  and  drove  them  to 
some  distance.  A  desultory  fire  was  kept  up  for 
an  hour,  when  the  Indians,  seeing  nothing  was  to 
be  gained,  gave  up  the  contest  and  retired.  They 
proved  to  be  a  war  party  of  Blackfeet,  who,  while  in 
search  of  the  Crow  tribe,  had  fallen  upon  the  trail 
of  Captain  Bonneville  on  the  Popo  Agie,  and 
dogged  him  to  the  Bighorn  ;  but  had  been  com- 
pletely baffled  by  his  vigilance.  They  had  then 
waylaid  the  present  detachment,  and  were  actu- 
ally housed  in  perfect  silence  within  their  fort, 
when  the  mule  of  the  trapper  made  such  a  dead 
point. 

The  savages  went  off  uttering  the  wildest  de- 
nunciations of  hostility,  mingled  with  opprobrious 
terms  in  broken  English,  and  gesticulations  of  the 
most  insulting  kind. 

In  this  melee,  one  white  man  was  wounded,  and 
two  horses  were  killed.  On  preparing  the  morn- 
ing's meal,  however,  a  number  of  cups,  knives, 
and  other  articles  were  missing,  which  had, 
doubtless,  been  carried  off  by  the  fictitious  elk, 
during  the  slumber  of  the  very  sagacious  sentinel. 

As  the  Indians  had  gone  off  in  the  direction 
which  the  trappers  had  intended  to  travel,  the  lat- 
ter changed  their  route,  and  pushed  forward 
rapidly  through  the  "  Bad  Pass,"  nor  halted  until 
night ;  when,  supposing  themselves  out  of  the 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


reach  of  the  enemy,  they  contented  themselves 
with  tying  up  their  horses  and  posting  a  guard. 
They  had  scarce  laid  down  to  sleep,  when  a  dog 
strayed  into  the  camp  with  a  small  pack  of  mocca- 
sins tied  upon  his  back  ;  for  dogs  are  made  to 
carry  burdens  among  the  Indians.  The  sentinel, 
more  knowing  than  he  of  the  preceding  night, 
awoke  his  companions  and  reported  the  circum- 
stance. It  was  evident  that  Indians  were  at  hand. 
All  were  instantly  at  work  ;  a  strong  pen  was 
soon'constructed  for  the  horses,  after  completing 
which,  they  resumed  their  slumbers  with  the  com- 
posure of  men  long  inured  to  dangers. 

In  the  next  night,  the  prowling  of  dogs  about  the 
camp  and  various  suspicious  noises  showed  that  In- 
dians were  still  hovering  about  them.  Hurrying  on 
by  long  marches,  they  at  length  fell  upon  a  trail, 
which,  with  the  experienced  eye  of  veteran  wood- 
men, they  soon  discovered  to  be  that  of  the  party 
of  trappers  detached  by  Captain  Bonneville  when 
on  his  march,  and  which  they  were  sent  to  join. 
They  likewise  ascertained  from  various  signs  that 
this  party  had  suffered  some  maltreatment  from 
the  Indians.  They  now  pursued  the  trail  with  in- 
tense anxiety  ;  it  carried  them  to  the  banks  of  the 
stream  called  the  Gray  Bull,  and  down  along  its 
course,  until  they  came  to  where  it  empties  into 
the  Horn  River.  Here,  to  their  great  joy,  they 
discovered  the  comrades  of  whom  they  were  in 
search,  all  strongly  fortified,  and  in  a  state  of 
great  watchfulness  and  anxiety. 

We  now  take  up  the  adventures  of  this  first  de- 
tachment of  trappers.  These  men,  after  parting 
with  the  main  body  under  Captain  Bonneville,  had 
proceeded  slowly  for  several  days  up  the  course  of 
the  river,  trapping  beaver  as  they  went.  One 
morning,  as  they  were  about  to  visit  their  traps, 
one  of  the  camp  keepers  pointed  to  a  fine  elk, 
grazing  at  a  distance,  and  requested  them  to  shoot 
it.  Three  of  the  trappers  started  off  for  the  pur- 
pose. In  passing  a  thicket,  they  were  fired  upon 
by  some  savages  in  ambush,  and  at  the  same 
time,  the  pretended  elk,  throwing  off  his  hide  and 
his  horn,  started  forth  an  Indian  warrior. 

One  of  the  three  trappers  had  been  brought 
down  by  the  volley ;  the  others  fled  to  the  camp, 
and  all  hands,  seizing  up  whatever  they  could 
carry  off,  retreated  to  a  small  island  in  the  river, 
and  took  refuge  among  the  willows.  Here  they 
were  soon  joined  by  their  comrade  who  had  fallen, 
but  who  had  merely  been  wounded  in  the  neck. 

In  the  meantime  the  Indians  took  possession  of 
the  deserted  camp,  with  all  the  traps,  accoutre- 
ments, and  horses.  While  they  were  busy  among 
the  spoils,  a  solitary  trapper,  who  had  been  ab- 
sent at  his  work,  came  sauntering  to  the  camp 
with  his  traps  on  his  back.  He  had  approached 
near  by,  when  an  Indian  came  'forward  and 
motioned  him  to  keep  away  ;  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, he  was  perceived  by  his  comrades  on  the 
island,  and  warned  of  his  danger  with  loud  cries. 
The  poor  fellow  stood  for  a  moment,  bewildered 
and  aghast,  then  dropping  his  traps,  wheeled  and 
made  off  at  full  speed,  quickened  by  a  sportive 
volley  which  the  Indians  rattled  alter  him. 

In  high  good  humor  with  their  easy  triumph  the 
savages  now  formed  a  circle  round  the  fire  and 
performed  a  war  dance,  with  the  unlucky  trappers 
for  rueful  spectators.  This  done,  emboldened  by 
what  they  considered  cowardice  on  the  part  of  the 
white  men,  they  neglected  their  usual  mode  of 
bush-fighting,  and  advanced  openly  within  twenty- 
paces  of  the  willows.  A  sharp  volley  from  the 
trappers  brought  them  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  laid 
three  of  them  breathless.  The  chief,  who  had 


stationed  himself  on  an  eminence  to  direct  a?l  the 
movements  of  his  people,  seeing  three  of  his  war- 
riors laid  low,  ordered  the  rest  to  retire.  They  im- 
mediately did  so,  and  the  whole  band  soon  disap- 
peared behind  a  point  of  woods,  carrying  off  with 
them  the  horses,  traps,  and  the  greater  part  oi 
the  baggage. 

It  was  just  after  this  misfortune  that  the  party 
of  ten  men  discovered  this  forlorn  band  of  trap- 
pers in  a  fortress  which  they  had  thrown  up  after 
their  disaster.  They  were  so  perfectly  dismayed, 
that  they  could  not  be  induced  even  to  go  inquest 
of  their  traps,  which  they  had  set  in  a  neighboring 
stream.  The  two  parties  now  joined  their  forces, 
and  made  their  way  without  further  misfortune, 
to  the  rendezvous. 

Captain  Bonneville  perceived  from  the  reports 
of  these  parties,  as  well  as  from  what  he  had  ob- 
served himself  in  his  recent  march,  that  he  was  in 
a  neighborhood  teeming  with  danger.  Two  wan- 
dering Snake  Indians,  also,  who  visited  the  camp, 
assured  him  that  there  were  two  large  bands  of 
Crows  marching  rapidly  upon  him.  He  broke  up 
his  encampment,  therefore,  on  the  first  of  Septem- 
ber, made  his  way  to  the  south,  across  the  Little- 
horn  Mountain,  until  he  reached  Wind  River,  and 
then  turning  westward,  moved  slowly  up  the 
banks  of  that  stream,  giving  time  for  his  men  to 
trap  as  he  proceeded.  As  it  was  not  in  the  plan 
of  the  present  hunting  campaign  to  go  near  the 
caches  on  Green  River,  and  as  the  trappers  were 
in  want  of  traps  to  replace  those  they  had  lost, 
Captain  Bonneville  undertook  to  visit  the  caches, 
and  procure  a  supply.  To  accompany  him  in  this 
hazardous  expedition,  which  would  take  him 
through  the  defiles  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
and  up  the  Green  River  valley,  he  took  but  three 
men  ;  the  main  party  were  to  continue  on  trap- 
ping up  toward  the  head  of  Wind  River,  near 
which  he  was  to  rejoin  them,  just  about  the  place 
where  that  stream  issues  from  the  mountains. 
We  shall  accompany  the  captain  on  his  adventur- 
ous errand. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  SETS  OUT  FOR  GREEN 
RIVER  VALLEY— JOURNEY  UP  THE  POPO  AGIE 
— BUFFALOES — THE  STARING  WHITE  REARS — 
THE  SMOKE — THE  WARM  SPRINGS— ATTEMPT 
TO  TRAVERSE  THE  WIND  RIVER  MOUNTAINS — 
THE  GREAT  SLOPE — MOUNTAIN  DELLS  AND 
CHASMS — CRYSTAL  LAKES — ASCENT  OF  A 
SNOWY  PEAK — SUBLIME  PROSPECT — A  PANO- 
RAMA— "LES  DIGNES  DE  PITIE,"  OR  WILD 
MEN  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

HAVING  forded  Wind  River  a  little  above  its 
mouth,  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  three  compan- 
ions proceeded  across  a  gravelly  plain,  until  they 
fell  upon  the  Popo  Agie,  up  the  left  bank  of  which 
they  held  their  course,  nearly  in  a  southerly  direc- 
tion. Here  they  came  upon  numerous  droves  of 
buffalo,  and  halted  for  the  purpose  of  procuring  a 
supply  of  beef.  As  the  hunters  were  stealing 
cautiously  to  get  within  shot  of  the  game,  two 
small  white  bears  suddenly  presented  themselves 
in  their  path,  and,  rising  upon  their  hind  legs, 
contemplated  them  for  some  'time  with  a  whim- 
sically solemn  gaze.  The  hunters  remained  mo- 
tionless ;  whereupon  the  bears,  having  apparently 
satisfied  their  curiosity,  lowered  themselves  upoa 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


319 


all  fours,  and  began  to  withdraw.  The  hunters 
now  advanced,  upon  which  the  bears  turned,  rose 
again  upon  their  haunches,  and  repeated  their 
serio-comic  examination.  This  was  repeated  sev- 
eral times,  until  the  hunters,  piqued  at  their  un- 
mannerly staring,  rebuked  it  with  a  discharge  of 
their  rifles.  The  bears  made  an  awkward  bound 
or  two,  as  if  wounded,  and  then  walked  off  with 
great  gravity',  seeming-  to  commune  together,  and 
every  now  and  then  turning  to  take  another  look 
at  the  hunters.  It  was  well  for  the  latter  that 
the  bears  were  but  half  grown,  and  had  not  yet 
acquired  the  ferocity  of  their  kind. 

The  buffalo  were  somewhat  startled  at  the  re- 
port of  the  fire-arms  ;  but  the  hunters  succeeded 
in  killing  a  couple  of  fine  cows,  and,  having  se- 
cured the  best  of  the  meat,  continued  forward 
until  some  time  after  dark,  when,  encamping  in  a 
large  thicket  of  willows,  they  made  a  great  fire, 
roasted  buffalo  beef  enough  for  half  a  score,  dis- 
posed of  the  whole  of  it  with  keen  relish  and  high 
glee,  and  then  "  turned  in"  for  the  night  and  slept 
soundly,  like  weary  and  well-fed  hunters. 

At  daylight  they  were  in  the  saddle  again,  and 
skirted  along  the  river,  passing  through  fresh 
grassy  meadows,  and  a  succession  of  beautiful 
groves  of  willows  and  cotton-wood.  Toward  even- 
ing, Captain  Bonneville  observed  smoke  at  a  dis- 
tance rising  from  among  hills,  directly  in  the 
route  he  was  pursuing.  Apprehensive  of  some 
hostile  band,  he  concealed  the  horses  in  a  thicket, 
and,  accompanied  by  one  of  his  men,  crawled 
cautiously  up  a  height,  from  which  he  could  over- 
look the  scene  of  danger.  Here,  with  a  spy-glass, 
he  reconnoitred  the  surrounding  country,  but  not 
a  lodge  nor  fire,  not  a  man,  horse,  nor  dog,  was 
to  be  discovered  ;  in  short,  the  smoke  which  had 
caused  such  alarm  proved  to  be  the  vapor  from 
several  warm,  or  rather  hot  springs  of  considerable 
magnitude,  pouring  forth  streams  in  every  direc- 
tion over  a  bottom  of  white  clay.  One  of  the 
springs  was  about  twenty-five  yards  in  diameter, 
and  so  deep  that  the  water  was  of  a  bright  green 
color. 

They  were  now  advancing  diagonally  upon  the 
chain  of  Wind  River  Mountains,  which  lay  be- 
tween them  and  Green  River  valley.  To  coast 
round  their  southern  points  would  be  a  wide  cir- 
cuit ;  whereas,  could  they  force  their  way  through 
them,  they  might  proceed  in  a  straight  line.  The 
mountains  were  lofty,  with  snowy  peaks  and 
cragged  sides  ;  it  was  hoped,  however,  that  some 
practicable  defile  might  be  found.  They  attempt- 
ed, accordingly,  to  penetrate  the  mountains  by 
following  up  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Popo 
Agie,  but  soon  found  themselves  in  the  midst  of 
stupendous  crags  and  precipices,  that  barred  all 
progress.  Retracing  their  steps,  and  falling  back 
upon  the  river,  they  consulted  where  to  make 
another  attempt.  They  were  too  close  beneath 
the  mountains  to  scan  them  generally,  but  they 
now  recollected  having  noticed,  from  the  plain, 
a  beautiful  slope,  rising  at  an  angle  of  about  thirty 
degrees,  and  apparently  without  any  break,  until 
it  reached  the  snowy  region.  Seeking  this  gentle 
acclivity,  they  began  to  ascend  it  with  alacrity, 
trusting  to  find  at  the  top  one  of  those  elevated 
plains  which  prevail  among  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  slope  was  covered  with  coarse  gravel,  inter- 
spersed with  plates  of  freestone.  They  attained 
the  summit  with  some  toil,  but  found,  instead  of 
a  level,  or  rather  undulating  plain,  that  they  were 
•on  the  brink  of  a  deep  and  precipitous  ravine, 
from  the  bottom  ol  which  rose  a  second  slope, 
similar  to  the  one  they  hac'  just  ascended.  Down 


into  this  profound  ravine  they  made  their  way  by 
a  rugged  path,  or  rather  fissure  of  the  rocks,  and 
then  labored  up  the  second  slope.  They  gained 
the  summit  only  to  find  themselves  on  another 
ravine,  and  now  perceived  that  this  vast  mountain, 
which  had  presented  such  a  sloping  and  even  side 
to  the  distant  beholder  on  the  plain,  was  shagged 
by  frightful  precipices,  and  seamed  with  longitu- 
dinal chasms,  deep  and  dangerous. 

In  one  of  these  wild  dells  they  passed  the  night, 
and  slept  soundly  and  sweetly  after  their  fatigues. 
Two  days  more  of  arduous  climbing  and  scram- 
bling only  served  to  admit  them  into  the  heart  of 
this  mountainous  and  awful  solitude  ;  where  diffi- 
culties increased  as  they  proceeded.  Sometimes 
they  scrambled  from  rock  to  rock,  up  the  bed  of 
some  mountain  stream,  dashing  its  bright  way 
down  to  the  plains  ;  sometimes  they  availed  them- 
selves of  the  paths  made  by  the  deer  and  the 
mountain  sheep,  which,  however,  often  took  them 
to  the  brink  of  fearful  precipices,  or  led  to  rugged 
defiles,  impassable  for  their  horses.  Atone  place 
they  were  obliged  to  slide  their  horses  down  the 
face  of  a  rock,  in  which  attempt  some  of  the  poor 
animals  lost  their  footing,  rolled  to  the  bottom, 
and  came  near  being  dashed  to  pieces. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day,  the  travel- 
lers attained  one  of  the  elevated  valleys  locked  up 
in  this  singular  bed  of  mountains.  Here  were  two 
bright  and  beautiful  little  lakes,  set  like  mirrors 
in  the  midst  of  stern  and  rocky  heights,  and  sur- 
rounded by  grassy  meadows,  inexpressibly  re- 
freshing to  the  eye.  These  probably  were  among 
the  sources  of  those  mighty  streams  which  take 
their  rise  among  these  mountains,  and  wander 
hundreds  of  miles  through  the  plains. 

In  the  green  pastures  bordering  upon  these 
lakes,  the  travellers  halted  to  repose,  and  to  give 
their  weary  horses  time  to  crop  the  sweet  and  ten- 
der herbage.  They  had  now  ascended  to  a  great 
height  above  the  level  of  the  plains,  yet  they  be- 
held huge  crags  of  granite  piled  one  upon  another, 
and  beetling  like  battlements  far  above  them. 
While  two  of  the  men  remained  in  the  camp  with 
the  horses,  Captain  Bonneville,  accompanied  by 
the  other  men,  set  out  to  climb  a  neighboring- 
height,  hoping  to  gain  a  commanding  prospect, 
and  discern  some  practicable  route  through  this 
stupendous  labyrinth.  After  much  toil,  he  reached 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  cliff,  but  it  was  only  to  be- 
hold gigantic  peaks  rising  all  around,  and  tower- 
ing far  into  the  snowy  regions  of  the  atmosphere. 
Selecting  one  which  appeared  to  be  the  highest, 
he  crossed  a  narrow  intervening  valley,  and  began 
to  scale  it.  He  soon  found  that  he  had  under- 
taken a  tremendous  task  ;  but  the  pride  of  man  is 
never  more  obstinate  than  when  climbing  moun- 
tains. The  ascent  was  so  steep  and  rugged  that 
he  and  his  companions  were  frequently  obliged  to 
clamber  on  hands  and  knees,  with  their  guns 
slung  upon  their  backs.  Frequently,  exhausted 
with  fatigue,  and  dripping  with  perspiration,  they 
threw  themselves  upon  the  snow,  and  took  hand- 
fuls  of  it  to  allay  their  parching  thirst.  At  one 
place  they  even  stripped  off  their  coats  and  hung 
them  upon  the  bushes,  and  thus  lightly  clad,  pro- 
ceeded to  scramble  over  these  eternal  snows.  As 
they  ascended  still  higher,  there  were  cool  breezes 
that  refreshed  and  braced  them,  and  springing 
with  new  ardor  to  their  task,  they  at  length  at- 
^ained  the  summit. 

Here  a  scene  burst  upon  the  view  of  Captain 
Bonneville,  that  for  a  time  astonished  and  over- 
whelmed him  with  its  immensity.  He  stood,  in 
fact,  upon  that  dividing  ridge  which  Indians  re- 


320 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


gard  as  the  crest  of  the  world  ;  and  on  each  side 
of  which  the  landscape  may  be  said  to  decline  to 
the  two  cardinal  oceans  of  the  globe.  Whichever 
way  he  turned  his  eye,  it  was  confounded  by  the 
vastness  and  variety  of  objects.  Beneath  him, 
the  Rocky  Mountains  seemed  to  open  all  their  se- 
cret recesses  ;  deep,  solemn  valleys  ;  treasured 
lakes  ;  dreary  passes  ;  rugged  defiles  and  foam- 
ing torrents  ;  while  beyond  their  savage  pre- 
cincts, the  eye  was  lost  in  an  almost  immeasurable 
landscape,  stretching  on  every  side  into  dim  and 
hazy  distance,  like  the  expanse  of  a  summer's  sea. 
Whichever  way  he  looked,  he  beheld  vast  plains 
glimmering  with  reflected  sunshine  ;  mighty 
streams  wandering  on  their  shining  course  tow- 
ard either  ocean,  and  snowy  mountains,  chain 
beyond  chain,  and  peak  beyond  peak,  till  they 
melted  like  clouds  into  the  horizon.  For  a  time, 
the  Indian  fable  seemed  realized  ;  he  had  at- 
tained that  height  from  which  the  Blackfoot  war- 
rior, after  death,  first  catches  a  view  of  the  land 
of  souisK  and  beholds  the  happy  hunting  grounds 
spread  out  below  him,  brightening  with  the  abodes 
of  the  free  and  generous  spirits.  The  captain  stood 
for  a  long  while  gazing  upon  this  scene,  lost  in  a 
crowd  of  vague  and  indefinite  ideas  and  sensations. 
A  long-drawn  inspiration  at  length  relieved  him 
from  this  enthralment  of  the  mind,  and  he  began 
to  analyze  the  parts  of  this  vast  panorama.  A 
simple  enumeration  of  a  few  of  its  features  may 
give  some  idea  of  its  collective  grandeur  and  mag- 
nificence. 

The  peak  on  which  the  captain  had  taken  his 
stand  commanded  the  whole  Wind  River  chain  ; 
which,  in  fact,  may  rather  be  considered  one  im- 
mense mountain,  broken  into  snowy  peaks  and 
lateral  spurs,  and  seamed  with  narrow  valleys. 
Some  of  these  valleys  glittered  with  silver  lakes 
and  gushing  streams  ;  the  fountain-heads,  as  it 
were,  of  the  mighty  tributaries  to  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific  Oceans.  Beyond  the  snowy  peaks,  to 
the  south,  and  tar,  far  below  the  mountain  range, 
the  gentle  river,  called  the  Sweet  Water,  was  seen 
pursuing  its  tranquil  way  through  the  rugged  re- 
gions of  the  Black  Hills.  In  the  east,  the  head- 
waters of  Wind  River  wandered  through  a  plain, 
until,  mingling  in  one  powerful  current,  they 
forced  their  way  through  the  range  of  Horn  Moun- 
tains, and  were  lost  to  view.  To  the  north  were 
caught  glimpses  of  the  upper  streams  of  the  Yel- 
lowstone, that  great  tributary  of  the  Missouri. 
In  another  direction  were  to  be  seen  some  of  the 
sources  of  the  Oregon,  or  Columbia,  flowing  to 
the  northwest,  past  those  towering  landmarks,  the 
Three  Tetons,  and  pouring  down  into  the  great 
lava  plain  ;  while,  almost  at  the  captain's  feet,  the 
Green  River,  or  Colorado  of  the  West,  set  forth 
on  its  wandering  pilgrimage  to  the  Gulf  of  Califor- 
nia ;  at  first  a  mere  mountain  torrent,  dashing 
northward  over  crag  and  precipice,  in  a  succes- 
sion of  cascades,  and  tumbling  into  the  plain, 
where,  expanding  into  an  ample  river,  it  circled 
away  to  the  south,  and  after  alternately  shining 
out  and  disappearing  in  the  mazes  of  the  vast 
landscape,  was  finally  lost  in  a  horizon  of  moun- 
tains. The  day  was  calm  and  cloudless,  and  the 
atmosphere  so  pure  that  objects  were  discernible 
at  an  astonishing  distance.  The  whole  of  this 
immense  area  was  inclosed  by  an  outer  range  of 
shadowy  peaks,  some  of  them  faintly  marked  on 
the  horizon,  which  seemed  to  wall  it  in  from  the 
rest  of  the  earth. 

It  is  to  be  regretted  that  Captain  Bonneville 
had  no  instruments  with  him  with  which  to  ascer- 


tain the  altitude  of  this  peak.  He  gives  it  as  his 
opinion,  that  it  is  the  loftiest  ,point  of  the  North 
American  continent  ;  but  of  this  we  have  no  sat- 
isfactory proof.  It  is  certain  that  the  Rocky 
Mountains  are  of  an  altitude  vastly  superior  to 
what  was  formerly  supposed.  We  rather  incline 
to  the  opinion  that  the  highest  peak  is  further  to 
the  northward,  and  is  the  same  measured  by  Mr.  • 
Thompson,  surveyor  to  the  Northwest  Company  ; 
who,  by  the  joint  means  of  the  barometer  and 
trigonometric  measurement,  ascertained  it  to  be 
twenty-five  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea  ;  an  elevation  only  inferior  to  that  of  the  Him- 
alayas.* 

For  a  long  time,  Captain  Bonneville  remained 
gazing  around  him  with  wonder  and  enthusiasm  ; 
at  length  the  chill  and  wintry  winds,  whirling 
about  the  snow-clad  height,  admonished  him  to 
descend.  He  soon  regained  the  spot  where  he 
and  his  companions  had  thrown  off  their  coats, 
which  were  now  gladly  resumed,  and,  retracing 
their  course  down  the  peak,  they  safely  rejoined 
their  companions  on  the  border  of  the  lake. 

Notwithstanding  the  savage  and  almost  inac- 
cessible nature  of  these  mountains,  they  have 
their  inhabitants.  As  one  of  the  party  was  out 
hunting,  he  came  upon  the  track  of  a  man,  in  a 
lonely  valley.  Following  it  up,  he  reached  the 
brow  of  a  cliff,  whence  he  beheld  three  savages 
running  across  the  valley  below  him.  He  fired 
his  gun  to  call  their  attention,  hoping  to  induce 
them  to  turn  back.  They  only  fled  the  faster,  and 
disappeared  among  the  rocks.  The  hunter  re- 
turned and  reported  what  he  had  seen.  Captain 
Bonneville  at  once  concluded  that  these  belonged 
to  a  kind  of  hermit  race,  scanty  in  number,  that 
inhabit  the  highest  and  most  inaccessible  fast- 
nesses. They  speak  the  Shoshonie  language,  and 
probably  are  offsets  from  that  tribe,  though  they 
nave  peculiarities  of  their  own  which  distinguish 
them  from  all  other  Indians.  They  are  miserably 
poor,  own  no  horses,  and  are  destitute  of  every 
convenience  to  be  derived  from  an  intercourse 
with  the  whites.  Their  weapons  are  bows  and 
stone-pointed  arrows,  with  which  they  hunt  the 
deer,  the  elk,  and  the  mountain  sheep.  They  are 
to  be  found  scattered  about  the  countries  of  the 
Shoshonie,  Flathead,  Crow,  and  Blackfeet  tribes ; 
but  their  residences  are  always  in  lonely  places, 
and  the  clefts  of  the  rocks. 

Their  footsteps  are  often  seen  by  the  trappers 
in  the  high  and  solitary  valleys  among  the  moun- 
tains, and  the  smokes  of  their  fires  descried 
among  the  precipices,  but  they  themselves  are 
rarely  met  with,  and  still  more  rarely  brought  to 
a  parley,  so  great  is  their  shyness  and  their  dread 
of  strangers. 

As  their  poverty  offers  no  temptation  to  the 
marauder,  and  as  they  are  inoffensive  in  their  hab- 
its, they  are  never  the  objects  of  warfare  ;  should 
one  of  them,  however,  fall  into  the  hands  of  a 
war  party,  he  is  sure  to  be  made  a  saciirice,  for 
the  sake  of  that  savage  trophy,  a  scalp,  and  that 
barbarous  ceremony,  a  scalp  dance.  These  for- 
lorn beings,  forming  a  mere  link  between  human 
nature  and  the  brute,  have  been  looked  clown 
upon  with  pity  and  contempt  by  the  Creole  trap- 
pers, who  have  given  them  the  appellation  of 
"  les  dignes  de  pitie,"  or  "  the  objects  of  pity. " 
They  appear  more  worthy  to  be  called  the  wild 
men  of  the  mountains. 


*  See  the  letter  of  Professor  Renwick,  in  the  Ap- 
pendix to  Astoria. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


321 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A  RETROGRADE  MOVE — CHANNEL  OF  A  MOUNTAIN 
TORRENT  —  ALPINE  SCENERY  —  CASCADES — 
BEAVER  VALLEYS — BEAVERS  AT  WORK — THEIR 
ARCHITECTURE — THEIR  MODES  OF  FELLING 
TREES — MODE  OF  TRAPPING  BEAVER — CONTESTS 
OF  SKILL — A  BEAVER  "UP  TO  TRAP  " — ARRIVAL 
AT  THE  GREEN  RIVER  CACHES. 

THE  view  from  the  snowy  peak  of  the  Wind 
River  Mountain,  while  it  had  excited  Captain 
Bonneville's  enthusiasm,  had  satisfied  him  that  it 
would  be  useless  to  force  a  passage  westward, 
through  multiplying  barriers  of  cliffs  and  preci- 
pices. Turning  his  face  eastward,  therefore,  he 
endeavored  to  regain  the  plains,  intending  to  make 
the  circuit  round  the  southern  point  of  the  moun- 
tain. To  descend  and  to  extricate  himself  irom 
the  heart  of  this  rock-piled  wilderness,  was  al- 
most as  difficult  as  to  penetrate  it.  Taking  his 
course  down  the  ravine  of  a  tumbling  stream,  the 
commencement  of  some  future  river,  he  descend- 
ed from  rock  to  rock,  and  shelf  to  shelf,  between 
stupendous  cliffs  and  beetling  crags  that  sprang 
up  to  the  sky.  Often  he  had  to  cross  and  recross 
the  rushing  torrent,  as  it  wound  foaming  and 
roaring  down  its  broken  channel,  or  was  walled 
by  perpendicular  precipices  ;  and  imminent  was 
the  hazard  of  breaking  the  legs  of  the  horses  in 
the  clefts  and  fissures  of  slipper)'  rocks.  The 
whole  scenery  of  this  deep  ravine  was  of  Alpine 
wildness  and  sublimity.  Sometimes  the  travel- 
lers passed  beneath  cascades  which  pitched  from 
such  lofty  heights  that  the  water  fell  into  the 
stream  like  heavy  rain.  In  other  places  torrents 
came  tumbling  from  crag  to  crag,  dashing  into 
foam  and  spray,  and  making  tremendous  din  and 
uproar. 

On  the  second  day  of  their  descent,  the  travel- 
lers, having  got  beyond  the  steepest  pitch  of  the 
mountains,  came  to  where  the  deep  and  rugged 
ravine  began  occasionally  to  expand  into  small 
levels  ,or  valleys,  and  the  stream  to  assume  for 
short  intervals  a  more  peaceful  character.  Here 
not  merely  the  river  itself,  but  every  rivulet  flow- 
ing into  it,  was  dammed  up  by  communities  of 
industrious  beavers,  so  as  to  inundate  the  neigh- 
borhood and  make  continual  swamps. 

During  a  mid-day  halt  in  one  of  these  beaver 
valleys,  Captain  Bonneville  left  his  companions, 
and  strolled  clown  the  course  of  the  stream  to  re- 
connoitre. He  had  not  proceeded  far  when  he 
came  to  a  beaver  pond,  and  caught  a  glimpse  of 
one  of  its  painstaking  inhabitants  busily  at  work 
upon  the  dam.  The  curiosity  of  the  captain  was 
aroused,  to  behold  the  mode  of  operating  of  this 
far-famed  architect  ;  he  moved  forward,  therefore, 
with  the  utmost  caution,  parting  the  branches  of 
the  water  willows  without  making  any  noise,  until 
having  attained  a  position  commanding  a  view  of 
the  whole  pond,  he  stretched  himself  flat  on  the 
ground,  and  watched  the  solitary  workman.  In 
a  little  while  three  others  appeared  at  the  head 
of  the  dam,  bringing  sticks  and  bushes.  With 
these  they  proceeded  directly  to  the  barrier, 
which  Captain  Bonneville  perceived  was  in  need  of 
repair.  Having  deposited  their  loads  upon  the 
broken  part,  they  dived  into  the  water,  and  short- 
ly reappeared  at  the  surface.  Each  now  brought 
a  quantity  of  mud,  with  which  he  would  plaster 
the  sticks  and  bushes  just  deposited.  This  kind 
of  masonry  was  continued  for  some  time,  repeat- 
ed supplies  of  wood  and  mud  being  brought,  and 
treated  in  the  same  manner.  This  done,  the  in- 


dustrious beavers  indulged  in  a  little  recreation, 
chasing  each  other  about  the  pond,  dodging  and 
whisking  about  on  the  surface,  or  diving  to  the 
bottom  ;  and  in  their  frolic  often  slapping  their 
tails  on  the  water  with  a  loud  clacking  sound. 
While  they  were  thus  amusing  themselves, 
another  of  the  fraternity  made  his  appearance, 
and  looked  gravely  on  their  sports  for  some  time, 
without  offering  to  join  in  them.  He  then  climb- 
ed the  bank  close  to  where  the  captain  was  con- 
cealed, and,  rearing  himself  on  his  hind  quarters, 
in  a  sitting  position,  put  his  fore  paws  against  a 
young  pine  tree,  and  began  to  cut  the  bark  with 
his  teeth.  At  times  he  would  tear  off  a  small 
piece,  and  holding  it  between  his  paws,  and  re- 
taining his  sedentary  position,  would  feed  himself 
with  it,  after  the  fashion  of  a  monkey.  The  ob- 
ject of  the  beaver,  however,  was  evidently  to  cut 
down  the  tree  ;  and  he  was  proceeding  with  his 
work,  when  he  was  alarmed  by  the  approach  of 
Captain  Bonneville's  men,  who,  feeling  anxious 
at  the  protracted  absence  of  their  leader,  were 
coming  in  search  of  him.  At  the  sound  of  their 
voices,  all  the  beavers,  busy  as  well  as  idle,  dived 
at  once  beneath  the  surface,  and  were  no  more  to 
be  seen.  Captain  Bonneville  regretted  this  inter- 
ruption. He  had  heard  much  of  the  sagacity  of 
the  beaver  in  cutting  down  trees,  in  which,  it  is 
said,  they  manage  to  make  them  fall  into  the 
water,  and  in  such  a  position  and  direction  as 
may  be  most  favorable  for  conveyance  to  the  de- 
sired point.  In  the  present  instance,  the  tree  was 
a  tal-1,  straight  pine,  and  as  it  grew  perpendicu- 
larly, and  there  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring, 
the  beaver  could  have  felled  it  in  any  direction  he 
pleased,  if  really  capable  of  exercising  a  discre- 
tion in  the  matter.  He  was  evidentlly  engaged 
in  "  belting"  the  tree,  and  his  first  incision  had 
been  on  the  side  nearest  to  the  water. 

Captain  Bonneville,  however,  discredits,  on  the 
whole,  the  alleged  sagacity  of  the  beaver  in  this 
particular,  and  thinks  the  animal  has  no  other 
aim  than  to  get  the  tree  down,  without  any  of  the 
subtle  calculation  as  to  its  mode  or  direction  of 
falling.  This  attribute,  he  thinks,  has  been  as- 
cribed to  them  from  the  circumstance  that  most 
trees  growing  near  water-courses,  either  lean 
bodily  toward  the  stream,  or  stretch  their  largest 
limbs  in  that  direction,  to  benefit  by  the  space, 
the  light,  and  the  air  to  be  found  there.  The 
beaver,  of  course,  attacks  those  trees  which  are 
nearest  at  hand,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
or  pond.  He  makes  incisions  round  them,  or,  in 
technical  phrase,  belts  them  with  his  teeth,  and 
when  they  fall,  they  naturally  take  the  direction 
in  which  their  trunks  or  branches  preponderate. 

"  I  have  often,"  says  Captain  Bonneville, 
"  seen  trees  measuring  eighteen  inches  in  diam- 
eter, at  the  places  where  they  had  been  cut  through 
by  the  beaver,  but  they  lay  in  all  directions,  and 
often  very  inconveniently  for  the  after  purposes  of 
the  animal.  In  fact,  so  little  ingenuity  do  they  at 
times  display  in  this  particular,  that  at  one  of  our 
camps  on  Snake  River  a  beaver  was  found  with 
his  head  wedged  into  the  cut  which  he  had  made, 
the  tree  having  fallen  upon  him  and  held  him  pris- 
oner until  he  died." 

Great  choice,  according  to  the  captain,  is  cer- 
tainly displayed  by  the  beaver  in  selecting  the 
wood  which  is  to  furnish  bark  for  winter  provis- 
ion. The  whole  beaver  household,  old  and  young, 
set  out  upon  this  business,  and  will  often  make 
long  journeys  before  they  are  suited.  Sometimes 
they  cut  down  trees  of  the  largest  si/e  and  then 
cull  the  branches,  the  bark  of  which  is  most  to  their 


322 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


taste.  These  they  cut  into  lengths  of  about  three 
feet,  convey  them  to  the  water,  and  float  them  to 
their  lodges,  where  they  are  stored  away  for 
winter.  They  are  studious  of  cleanliness  and 
comfort  in  their  lodges,  and  after  their  repasts, 
will  carry  out  the  sticks  from  which  they  have 
eaten  the  bark,  and  throw  them  into  the  current 
beyond  the  barrier.  They  are  jealous,  too,  of 
their  territories,  and  extremely  pugnacious,  never 
permitting  a  strange  beaver  to  enter  their  prem- 
ises, and  often  fighting  with  such  virulence  as 
almost  to  tear  each  other  to  pieces.  'In  the 
spring,  which  is  the  breeding  season,  the  male 
leaves  the  female  at  home,  and  sets  off  on  a  tour 
of  pleasure,  rambling  often  to  a  great  distance, 
recreating  himself  in  every  clear  and  quiet  ex- 
panse of  water  on  his  way,  and  climbing  the 
banks  occasionally  to  feast  upon  the  tender 
sprouts  of  the  young  willows.  As  summer  ad- 
vances, he  gives  up  his  bachelor  rambles,  and 
bethinking  himself  of  housekeeping  duties,  re- 
turns home  to  his  mate  and  his  new  progeny,  and 
marshals  them  all  for  the  foraging  expedition  in 
quest  of  winter  provisions. 

After  having  shown  the  public  spirit  of  this 
praiseworthy  little  animal  as  a  member  of  a  com- 
munity, and  his  amiable  and  exemplary  conduct 
as  the  father  of  a  family,  we  grieve  to  record  the 
perils  with  which  he  is  environed,  and  the  snares 
set  for  him  and  his  painstaking  household. 

Practice,  says  Captain  Bonneville,  has  given 
such  a  quickness  of  eye  to  the  experienced  trapper 
in  all  that  relates  to  his  pursuit,  that  he  can  detect 
the  slightest  sign  of  beaver,  however  wild  ;  and 
although  the  lodge  may  be  concealed  by  close 
thickets  and  overhanging  willows,  he  can  gen- 
erally, at  a  single  glance,  make  an  accurate  guess 
at  the  number  of  its  inmates.  He  now  goes  to 
work  to  set  his  trap  ;  planting  it  upon  the  shore, 
in  some  chosen  place,  two  or  three  inches  below 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  secures  it  by  a 
chain  to  a  pole  set  deep  in  the  mud.  A  small 
twig  is  then  stripped  of  its  bark,  and  one  end  is 
dipped  in  the  "  medicine,"  as  the  trappers  term 
the  peculiar  bait  which  they  employ.  This  end 
of  the  stick  rises  about  four  inches  above  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  the  other  end  is  planted  be- 
tween the  jaws  of  the  trap.  The  beaver,  possess- 
ing an  acute  sense  of  smell,  is  soon  attracted  by 
the  odor  of  the  bait.  As  he  raises  his  nose  to- 
ward it,  his  foot  is  caught  in  the  trap.  In  his 
fright  he  throws  a  somerset  into  the  deep  water. 
The  trap  being  fastened  to  the  pole,  resists  all 
his  efforts  to  drag  it  to  the  shore  ;  the  chain  by 
which  it  is  fastened  defies  his  teeth  ;  he  struggles 
for  a  time,  and  at  length  sinks  to  the  bottom  and 
is  drowned. 

Upon  rocky  bottoms,  where  it  is  not  possible  to 
plant  the  pole,  it  is  thrown  into  the  stream.  The 
beaver  when  entrapped  often  gets  fastened  by  the 
chain  to  sunken  logs  or  floating  timber  ;  if  he  gets 
to  shore,  he  is  entangled  in  the  thickets  of  brook 
willows.  In  such  cases,  however,  it  costs  the 
trapper  diligent  search,  and  sometimes  a  bout  at 
swimming,  before  he  finds  his  game. 

Occasionally  it  happens  that  several  members 
of  a  beaver  family  are  trapped  in  succession. 
The  survivors  then  become  extremely  shy,  and 
can  scarcely  be  "  brought  to  medicine,'1  to  use 
the  trapper's  phrase,  for  "  taking  the  bait."  In 
such  case,  the  trapper  gives  up  the  use  of  the  bait 
and  conceals  his  traps  in  the  usual  paths  and 
crossing-places  of  the  household.  The  beaver 
now  being  completely  "  up  to  trap,"  approaches 
them  cautiously,  and  springs  them  ingeniously 


with  a  stick.  At  other  times  he  turns  the  traps 
bottom  upward  by  the  same  means,  and  occa- 
sionally even  drags  them  to  the  barrier  and  con- 
ceals them  in  the  mud.  The  trapper  now  gives 
up  the  contest  of  ingenuity,  and  shouldering  his 
traps  marches  off,  admitting  that  he  is  not  yet 
"  up  to  beaver." 

On  the  day  following  Captain  Bonneville's  su- 
pervision of  the  industrious  and  frolicsome  com- 
munity of  beavers,  of  which  he  has  given  so  edi- 
fying an  account,  he  succeeded  in  extricating  him- 
self from  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  and  regain- 
ing the  plain  to  the  eastward,  made  a  great  bend 
to  the  south,  so  as  to  go  round  the  bases  of  the 
mountains,  and  arrived,  without  further  incident 
of  importance,  at  the  old  place  of  rendezvous  in 
Green  River  valley,  on  the  iyth  of  September. 

He  found  the  caches,  in  which  he  had  deposited 
his  superfluous  goods  and  equipments,  all  safe, 
and  having  opened  and  taken  from  them  the 
necessary  supplies,  he  closed  them  again,  taking 
care  to  obliterate  all  traces  that  might  betray 
them  to  the  keen  eyes  of  Indian  marauders. 


CHAPTER  XXVF. 

ROUTE  TOWARD  WIND  RIVER  —  DANGEROUS 
NEIGHBORHOOD — ALARMS  AND  PRECAUTIONS 
— A  SHAM  ENCAMPMENT — APPARITION  OF  AN 
INDIAN  SPY — MIDNIGHT  MOVE — A  MOUNTAIN 
DEFILE — THE  WIND  RIVER  VALLEY — TRACKING 
A  PARTY  —  DESERTED  CAMPS — SYMPTOMS  OF 
CROWS — MEETING  OF  COMRADES — A  TRAPPER 
ENTRAPPED — CROW  PLEASANTRY — CROW  SPIES 
— A  DECAMPMENT — RETURN  TO  GREEN  RIVER 
VALLEY — MEETING  WITH  FITZPATRICK'S  PARTY 
— THEIR  ADVENTURES  AMONG  THE  CROWS — 
ORTHODOX  CROWS. 

ON  the  1 8th  of  September,  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  three  companions  set  out,  bright  and 
early,  to  rejoin  the  main  party,  from  which  they 
had  parted  on  Wind  River.  Their  route  lay  up 
the  Green  River  valley,  with  that  stream  on  their 
right  hand,  and  beyond  it  the  range  of  Wind 
River  Mountains.  At  the  head  of  the  valley  they 
were  to  pass  through  a  defile  which  would  bring 
them  out  beyond  the  northern  end  of  these  moun- 
tains, to  the  head  of  Wind  River  ;  where  they  ex- 
pected to  meet  the  main  party  according  to  ar- 
rangement. 

We  have  already  adverted  to  the  dangerous  na- 
ture of  this  neighborhood,  infested  by  roving 
bands  of  Crows  and  Blackfeet,  to  whom  the  nu- 
merous defiles  and  passes  of  the  country  afford 
capital  places  for  ambush  and  surprise.  The 
travellers,  therefore,  kept  a  vigilant  eye  upon 
everything  that  might  give  intimation  of  lurking 
danger. 

About  two  hours  after  mid-day,  as  they  reached 
the  summit  of  a  hill,  they  discovered  buffalo  on 
the  plain  below,  running  in  every  direction.  One 
of  the  men,  too,  fancied  he  heard  the  report  of  a 
gun.  It  was  concluded,  therefore,  that  there  was 
some  party  of  Indians  below,  hunting  the  buffalo. 

The  horses  were  immediately  concealed  in  a 
narrow  ravine  ;  and  the  captain,  mounting  an 
eminence,  but  concealing  himself  'from  view,  re- 
connoitred the  whole  neighborhood  with  a  tele- 
scope. Not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen  ;  so,  after 
halting  about  an  hour,  he  resumed  his  journey. 
Convinced,  however,  that  he  was  in  a  dangerous 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


neighborhood,  he  advanced  with  the  utmost  cau- 
tion ;  winding  his  way  through  hollows  and  ra- 
vines, and  avoiding,  as  much  as  possible,  any 
open  tract  or  rising  ground  that  might  betray 
his  little  party  to  the  watchful  eye  ot  an  Indian 
scout. 

Arriving  at  length  at  the  edge  of  the  open 
meadow  land  bordering  on  the  river,  he  again 
observed  the  buffalo,  as  far  as  he  could  see, 
scampering  in  great  alarm.  Once  more  conceal- 
ing the  horses,  he  and  his  companions  remained 
for  a  long  time  watching  the  various  groups  of 
the  animals,  as  each  caught  the  panic  and  started 
off  ;  but  they  sought  in  vain  to  discover  the  cause. 

They  were  now  about  to  enter  the  mountain 
defile,  at  the  head  of  Green  River  valley,  where 
they  might  be  waylaid  and  attacked  ;  they  there- 
lore  arranged  the  packs  on  their  horses,  in  the 
manner  most  secure  and  convenient  for  sudden 
flight,  should  such  be  necessary.  This  done, 
they  again  set  forward,  keeping  the  most  anxious 
look-out  in  every  direction. 

It  was  now  drawing  toward  evening  ;  but  they 
could  not  think  of  encamping  for  the  night  in  a 
place  so  full  of  danger.  Captain  Bonneville, 
therefore,  determined  to  halt  about  sunset,  kindle 
a  fire,  as  if  for  encampment,  cook  and  eat  supper  ; 
but,  as  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  dark,  to  make  a 
rapid  move  for  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  and 
seek  some  secluded  spot  for  their  night's  lodg- 
ings. 

Accordingly,  as  the  sun  went  down,  the  little 
party  came  to  a  halt,  made  a  large  fire,  spitted 
their  buffalo  meat  on  wooden  sticks,  and,  when 
sufficiently  roasted,  planted  the  savory  viands  be- 
fore them  ;  cutting  off  huge  slices  with  their  hunt- 
ing knives,  and  supping  with  a  hunter's  appetite. 
The  light  of  their  fire  would  not  fail,  as  they 
knew,  to  attract  the  attention  of  any  Indian  horde 
in  the  neighborhood  ;  but  they  trusted  to  be  off 
and  away  before  any  prowlers  could  reach  the 
place.  While  they  were  supping  thus  hastily, 
however,  one  of  their  party  suddenly  started  up 
and  shouted  "Indians!"  All  were  instantly  on 
their  feet,  with  their  rifles  in  their  hands  ;  but 
could  see  no  enemy.  The  man,  however,  de- 
clared that  he  had  seen  an  Indian  advancing  cau- 
tiously along  the  trail  which  they  had  made  in  com- 
ing to  the  encampment,  who,  the  moment  he  was 
perceived  had  thrown  himself  on  the  ground  and 
disappeared.  He  urged  Captain  Bonneville  in- 
stantly to  decamp.  The  captain,  however,  took 
the  matter  more  coolly.  The  single  fact  that  the 
Indian  had  endeavored  to  hide  himself,  convinced 
him  that  he  was  not  one  of  a  party  on  the  ad- 
vance to  make  an  attack.  He  was,  probably, 
some  scout,  who  had  followed  up  their  trail  until 
he  came  in  sight  of  their  fire.  He  would,  in  such 
case,  return,  and  report  what  he  had  seen  to  his 
companions.  These,  supposing  the  white  men 
had  encamped  for  the  night,  would  keep  aloof 
until  very  late,  when  all  should  be  asleep.  They 
would  then,  according  to  Indian  tactics,  make 
their  stealthy  approaches,  and  place  themselves 
in  ambush  around,  preparatory  to  their  attack  at 
the  usual  hour  of  daylight. 

Such  was  Captain  Bonneville's  conclusion  ;  in 
consequence  of  which,  he  counselled  his  men  to 
keep  perfectly  quiet,  and  act  as  if  free  from 
alarm,  until  the  proper  time  arrived  for  a  move- 
ment. They,  accordingly,  continued  their  repast 
with  pretended  appetite  and  jollity  ;  and  then 
trimmed  and  replenished  their  fire,  as  if  for  a  biv- 
ouac. As  soon,  however,  as  the  night  had  com- 
pletely set  in,  they  left  their  fire  blazing,  walked 


quietly  among  the  willows,  and  then  leaping  into 
their  saddles,  made  off  as  noiselessly  as  possible. 
In  proportion  as  they  left  the  point  of  danger  be- 
hind them,  they  relaxed  in  their  rigid  and  anxious 
taciturnity,  and  began  to  joke  at  the  expense  of 
their  enemy,  whom  they  pictured  to  themselves 
mousing  in  the  neighborhood  of  their  deserted 
fire,  waiting  for  the  proper  time  of  attack,  and 
preparing  for  a  grand  disappointment. 

About  midnight,  feeling  satisfied  that  they  had 
gained  a  secure  distance,  they  posted  one  ot  their 
number  to  keep  watch,  in  case  the  enemy  should 
follow  on  their  trail,  and  then,  turning  abruptly 
into  a  dense  and  matted  thicket  of  willows,  halted 
for  the  night  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  instead 
of  making  for  the  summit,  as  they  had  originally 
intended. 

A  trapper  in  the  wilderness,  like  a  sailor  on 
the  ocean,  snatches  morsels  of  enjoyment  in  the 
midst  of  trouble,  and  sleeps  soundly  when  sur- 
rounded by  danger.  The  little  party  now  made 
their  arrangements  for  sleep  with  perfect  calm- 
ness ;  they  did  not  venture  to  make  a  fire  and 
cook,  it  is  true,  though  generally  done  by  hunters 
whenever  they  come  to  a  halt,  and  have  provisions. 
They  comforted  themselves,  however,  by  smoking 
a  tranquil  pipe  ;  and  then  calling  in  the  watch, 
and  turning  loose  the  horses,  stretched  themselves 
on  their  pallets,  agreed  that  whoever  should  first 
awake  should  rouse  the  rest,  and  in  a  little  while 
were  all  in  as  sound  sleep  as  though  in  the  midst 
of  a  fortress. 

A  little  before  day,  they  were  all  on  the  alert ; 
it  was  the  hour  for  Indian  maraud.  A  sentinel 
was  immediately  detached,  to  post  himself  at  a  lit- 
tle distance  on  their  trail,  and  give  the  alarm, 
should  he  see  or  hear  an  enemy. 

With  the  first  blink  of  dawn  the  rest  sought 
the  horses,  brought  them  to  the  camp,  and  tied 
them  up  until  an  hour  after  sunrise,  when,  the 
sentinel  having  reported  that  all  was  well,  they 
sprang  once  more  into  their  saddles,  and  pursued 
the  most  covert  and  secret  paths  up  the  mountain, 
avoiding  the  direct  route. 

At  noon  they  halted  and  made  a  hasty  repast, 
and  then  bent  their  course  so  as  to  regain  the 
route  from  which  they  had  diverged.  They  were 
now  made  sensible  of  the  danger  from  which  they 
had  just  escaped.  There  were  tracks  of  Indians, 
who  had  evidently  been  in  pursuit  of  them,  but 
had  recently  returned,  baffled  in  their  search. 

Trusting  that  they  had  now  got  a  fair  start, 
and  could  not  be  overtaken  before  night,  even  in 
case  the  Indians  should  renew  the  chase,  they 
pushed  briskly  forward,  and  did  not  encamp  until 
late,  when  they  cautiously  concealed  themselves 
in  a  secure  nook  of  the  mountains. 

Without  any  further  alarm,  they  made  their  way 
to  the  head-waters  of  Wind  River,  and  reached 
the  neighborhood  in  which  they  had  appointed 
the  rendezvous  with  their  companions.  It  was 
within  the  precincts  of  the  Crow  country  ;  the 
Wind  River  valley  being  one  of  the  favorite  haunts 
of  that  restless  tribe.  After  much  searching, 
Captain  Bonneville  came  upon  a  trail  which  had 
evidently  been  made  by  his  main  party.  It  was 
so  old,  however,  that  he  feared  his  people  might 
have  left  the  neighborhood  ;  driven  off,  perhaps, 
by  some  of  those  war  parties  which  were  on  the 
prowl.  He  continued  his  search  with  great  anx- 
iety, and  no  little  fatigue  ;  for  his  horses  were 
jaded,  and  almost  crippled,  by  their  forced 
marches  and  scramblings  through  rocky  defiles. 

On  the  following  day,  about  noon,  Captain 
Bonneville  came  upon  a  deserted  camp  of  his 


324 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


people,  from  which  they  had,  evidently,  turned 
back  ;  but  he  could  find  no  signs  to  indicate  why 
they  had  done  so  ;  whether  they  had  met  with 
misfortune,  or  molestation,  or  in  what  direction 
they  had  gone.  He  was  now  more  than  ever 
perplexed. 

On  the  following  day  he  resumed  his  march 
with  increasing  anxiety.  The  feet  of  his  horses 
had  by  this  time  become  so  worn  and  wounded 
by  the  rocks,  that  he  had  to  make  moccasons  for 
them  of  buffalo  hide.  About  noon  he  came  to 
another  deserted  camp  of  his  men  ;  but  soon  after 
lost  their  trail.  After  great  search,  he  once  more 
found  it,  turning  in  a  southerly  direction  along 
the  eastern  bases  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains, 
which  towered  to  the  right.  He  now  pushed 
forward  with  all  possible  speed,  in  hopes  of  over- 
taking the  party.  At  night  he  slept  at  another  of 
their  camps,  from  which  they  had  but  recently 
departed.  When  the  day  dawned  sufficiently  to 
distinguish  objects,  he  perceived  the  danger  that 
must  be  dogging  the  heels  of  his  main  party.  All 
about  the  camp  were  traces  of  Indians  who  must 
have  been  prowling  about  it  at  the  time  his  people 
had  passed  the  night  there  ;  and  who  must  still 
be  hovering  about  them.  Convinced  now  that 
the  main  party  could  not  be  at  any  great  dis- 
tance, he  mounted  a  scout  on  the  best  horse,  and 
sent  him  forward  to  overtake  them,  to  warn  them 
of  their  danger,  and  to  order  them  to  halt,  until 
he  should  rejoin  them. 

In  the  afternoon,  to  his  great  joy,  he  met  the 
scout  returning,  with  six  comrades  from  the  main 
party,  leading  fresh  horses  for  his  accommoda- 
tion ;  and  on  the  following  day  (September  25th), 
all  hands  were  once  more  reunited,  after  a  sepa- 
ration of  nearly  three  weeks.  Their  meeting  was 
hearty  and  joyous  ;  for  they  had  both  experienced 
dangers  and  perplexities. 

The  main  party, in  pursuing  their  course  up  the 
Wind  River  valley,  had  been  dogged  the  whole 
way  by  a  war  party  of  Crows.  In  one  place  they 
had  been  fired  upon,  but  without  injury  ;  in 
another  place,  one  of  their  horses  had  been  cut 
loose,  and  carried  off.  At  length,  they  were  so 
closely  beset  that  they  were  obliged  to  make  a 
retrograde  move,  lest  they  should  be  surprised 
and  overcome.  This  was  the  movement  which 
had  caused  such  perplexity  to  Captain  Bonneville. 

The  whole  party  now  remained  encamped  for 
two  or  three  days,  to  give  repose  to  both  men  and 
horses.  Some  of  the  trappers,  however,  pursued 
their  vocations  about  the  neighboring  streams. 
While  one  of  them  was  setting  his  traps,  he  heard 
the  tramp  of  horses,  and  looking  up,  beheld  a 
party  of  Crow  braves  moving  along  at  no  great 
distance,  with  a  considerable  cavalcade.  The 
trapper  hastened  to  conceal  himself,  but  was  dis- 
cerned by  the  quick  eye  of  the  savages.  With 
whoops  and  yells,  they  dragged  him  from  his  hid- 
ing-place, flourished  over  his  head  their  toma- 
hawks and  scalping-knives,  and  for  a  time  the 
poor  trapper  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  Fortu- 
nately the  Crows  were  in  a  jocose  rather  than 
a  sanguinary  mood.  They  amused  themselves 
heartily  for  a  while  at  the  expense  of  his  terrors, 
and  after  having  played  off  divers  Crow  pranks 
and  pleasantries,  suffered  him  to  depart  unharm- 
ed. It  is  true,  they  stripped  him  completely,  one 
taking  his  horse,  another  his  gun.  a  third  his 
traps,  a  fourth  his  blanket,  and  so  on  through  all 
his  accoutrements,  and  even  his  clothing,  until  he 
was  stark  naked  ;  bu\  then  they  generously  made 
him  a  present  of  an  old  tattered  buffalo  robe, 
and  dismissed  him,  with  many  complimentary 


speeches  and  much  laughter.  When  the  trapper 
returned  to  the  camp  in  such  sorry  plight,  he  was 
greeted  with  peals  of  laughter  from  his  comrades, 
and  seemed  more  mortified  by  the  style  in  which 
he  had  been  dismissed,  than  rejoiced  at  escaping 
with  his  life.  A  circumstance  which  he  related 
to  Captain  Bonneville  gave  some  insight  invo  the 
cause  of  this  extreme  jocularity  on  the  part  of  the 
Crows.  They  had  evidently  had  a  run  of  luck, 
and,  like  winning  gamblers,  were  in  high  good 
humor.  Among  twenty-six  fine  horses,  and  some 
mules,  which  composed  their  cavalcade,  the  trap- 
per recognized  a  number  which  had  belonged  to 
Fitzpatrick's  brigade,  when  they  parted  company 
on  the  Bighorn.  It  was  supposed,  therefore,  that 
these  vagabonds  had  been  on  his  trail,  and  robbed 
him  of  part  of  his  cavalry. 

On  the  day  following  this  affair,  three  Crows 
came  into  Captain  Bonneville's  camp,  with  the 
most  easy,  innocent,  if  not  impudent  air  imagina- 
ble ;  walking  about  with  that  imperturbable  cool- 
ness and  unconcern  in  which  the  Indian  rivals  the 
fine  gentleman.  As  they  had  not  been  of  the  set 
which  stripped  the  trapper,  though  evidently  of 
the  same  band,  they  were  not  molested.  Indeed, 
Captain  Bonneville  treated  them  with  his  usual 
kindness  and  hospitality  ;  permitting  them  to  re- 
main all  day  in  the  camp,  and  even  to  pass  the 
night  there.  At  the  same  time,  however,  he 
caused  a  strict  watch  to  be  maintained  on  all 
their  movements,  and  at  night  stationed  an  arm- 
ed sentinel  near  them.  The  Crows  remonstrated 
against  the  latter  being  armed.  This  only  made 
the  captain  suspect  them  to  be  spies,  who  medi- 
tated treachery  ;  he  redoubled,  therefore,  his  pre- 
cautions. At  the  same  time  he  assured  his 
guests  that  while  they  were  perfectly  welcome  to 
the  shelter  and  comfort  of  his  camp,  yet,  should 
any  of  their  tribe  venture  to  approach  during 
the  night,  they  would  certainly  be  shot,  which 
would  be  a  very  unfortunate  circumstance,  and 
much  to  be  deplored.  To  the  latter  remark  they 
fully  assented,  and  shortly  afterward  commenced 
a  wild  song  or  chant,  which  they  kept  up  for  a 
long  time,  and  in  which  they  very  probably  gave 
their  friends,  who  might  be  prowling  round  the 
camp,  notice  that  the  white  men  were  on  the 
alert.  The  night  passed  away  without  disturb- 
ance. In  the  morning  the  three  Crow  guests 
were  very  pressing  that  Captain  Bonneville  and 
his  party  should  accompany  them  to  their  camp, 
which  they  said  was  close  by.  Instead  of  accept- 
ing their  invitation  Captain  Bonneville  took  his 
departure  with  all  possible  dispatch,  eager  to  be 
out  of  the  vicinity  of  such  a  piratical  horde  ;  nor 
did  he  relax  the  diligence  of  his  march  until,  on 
the  second  day,  he  reached  the  banks  of  the  Sweet 
Water,  beyond  the  limits  of  the  Crow  country, 
and  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  had  obliterated  all  traces 
of  his  course. 

He  now  continued  on  for  some  few  days,  at  a 
slower  pace,  round  the  point  of  the  mountain  tow- 
ard Green  River,  and  arrived  once  more  at  the 
caches,  on  the  14th  of  October. 

Here  they  found  traces  of  the  band  of  Indians 
who  had  hunted  them  in  the  defile  toward  the 
head-waters  of  Wind  River.  Having  lost  all  trace 
of  them  on  their  way  over  the  mountains,  they  had 
turned  and  followed  back  their  trail  down  the 
Green  River  valley  to  the  caches.  One  of  these 
they  had  discovered  and  broken  open,  but  it  fortu- 
nately contained  nothing  but  fragments  of  old 
iron,  which  they  had  scattered  about  in  all  direc- 
tions, and  then  departed.  In  examining  their  de- 
serted camp,  Captain  Bonneville  discovered  that 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


325 


it  numbered  thirty-nine  fires,  and  had  more  reason 
than  ever  to  congratulate  himself  on  having  es- 
caped the  clutches  of  such  a  formidable  band  of 
freebooters. 

He  now  turned  his  course  southward,  under 
cover  of  the  mountains,  and  on  the  25th  of  Octo- 
ber reached  Liberge's  Ford,  a  tributary  of  the 
Colorado,  where  he  came  suddenly  upon  the  trail 
of  this  same  war  party,  which  had  crossed  the 
stream  so  recently  that  the  banks  were  yet  wet 
with  the  water  that  had  been  splashed  upon 
them.  To  judge  from  their  tracks,  they  could 
not  be  less  than  three  hundred  warriors,  and  ap- 
parently of  the  Crow  nation. 

Captain  Bonneville  was  extremely  uneasy  lest 
this  overpowering  force  should  come  upon  him  in 
some  place  where  he  would  not  have  the  means 
of  fortifying  himself  promptly.  He  now  moved 
toward  Hane's  Fork,  another  tributary  of  the  Col- 
orado, where  he  encamped,  and  remained  during 
the  26th  of  October.  Seeing  a  large  cloud  of 
smoke  to  the  south,  he  supposed  it  to  arise  from 
some  encampment  of  Shoshonies,  and  sent  scouts 
to  procure  information,  and  to  purchase  a  lodge. 
It  was,  in  fact,  a  band  of  Shoshonies,  but  with 
them  were  encamped  Fitzpatnck  and  his  party  of 
trappers.  That  active  leader  had  an  eventful 
story  to  relate  of  his  fortunes  in  the  country  of  the 
Crows.  After  parting  with  Captain  Bonneville 
on  the  banks  of  the  Bighorn,  he  made  for  the 
west,  to  trap  upon  Powder  and  Tongue  Rivers. 
He  had  between  twenty  and  thirty  men  with  him, 
and  about  one  hundred  horses.  So  large  a  caval- 
cade could  not  pass  through  the  Crow  country 
without  attracting  the  attention  of  its  freebooting 
hordes.  A  large  band  of  Crows  were  soon  on  their 
traces,  and  came  up  with  them  on  the  5th  of  Sep- 
tember, just  as  they  had  reached  Tongue  River. 
The  Crow  chief  came  forward  with  great  appear- 
ance of  friendship,  and  proposed  to  Fitzpatrick 
that  they  should  encamp  together.  The  latter, 
however,  not  having  any  faith  in  Crows,  declined 
the  invitation,  and  pitched  his  camp  three  miles 
off.  He  then  rode  over  with  two  or  three  men, 
to  visit  the  Crow  chief,  by  whom  he  was  received 
with  great  apparent  cordiality.  In  the  meantime, 
however,  a  party  of  young  braves,  who  considered 
them  absolved  by  his  distrust  from  all  scruples  of 
honor,  made  a  circuit  privately,  and  dashed  into 
his  encampment.  Captain  Stewart,  who  had  re- 
mained there  in  the  absence  of  Fitzpatrick,  be- 
haved with  great  spirit  ;  but  the  Crows  were  too 
numerous  and  active.  They  had  got  possession 
of  the  camp,  and  soon  made  booty  of  everything 
•^carrying  off  all  the  horses.  On  their  way  back 
they. met  Fitzpatrick  returning  to  his  camp  ;  and 
finished  their  exploit  by  rifling  and  nearly  strip- 
ping him. 

A  negotiation  took  place  between  the  plundered 
white  men  and  the  triumphant  Crows  ;  what  elo- 
quence and  management  Fitzpatrick  made  use  of 
we  do  not  know,  but  he  succeeded  in  prevailing 
upon  the  Crow  chieftain  to  return  him  his  horses 
and  many  of  his  traps,  together  with  his  rifles 
and  a  few  rounds  of  ammunition  for  each  man. 
He  then  set  out  with  all  speed  to  abandon  the 
Crow  country,  before  he  should  meet  with  any 
fresh  disasters. 

After  his  departure,  the  consciences  of  some  of 
the  most  orthodox  Crows  pricked  them  sorely  for 
having  suffered  such  a  cavalcade  to  escape  out  of 
their  hands.  Anxious  to  wipe  off  so  foul  a  stigma 
on  the  reputation  of  the  Crow  nation,  they  follow- 
ed on  his  trail,  nor  quit  hovering  about  him  on 
his  march  until  they  had  stolen  a  number  of  his 


best  horses  and  mules.  It  was,  doubtless,  this 
same  band  which  came  upon  the  lonely  trapper 
on  the  Popo  Agie,  and  generously  gave  him  an 
old  buffalo  robe  in  exchange  for  his  rifle,  his 
traps,  and  all  his  accoutrements.  With  these 
anecdotes,  we  shall,  for  the  present,  take  our 
leave  of  the  Crow  country  and  its  vagabond  chiv- 
alry. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A  REGION  OF  NATURAL  CURIOSITIES — THE  PLAIN 
OF  WHITE  CLAY — HOT  SPRINGS — THE  BEER 
SPRING  —  DEPARTURE  TO  SEEK  THE  FREE 
TRAPPERS  —  PLAIN  OF  PORTNEUF  —  LAVA — 
CHASMS  AND  GULLIES — BANNECK.  INDIANS — 
THEIR  HUNT  OF  THE  BUFFALO— HUNTERS' 
FEAST — TRENCHER  HEROES — BULLYING  OF  AN 
ABSENT  FOE— THE  DAMP  COMRADE — THE  IN- 
DIAN SPY — MEETING  WITH  HODGKISS — HIS  AD- 
VENTURES—POORDEVIL  INDIANS— TRIUMPH  OF 
THE  BANNECKS — BLACKFEET  POLICY  IN  WAR. 

CROSSING  an  elevated  ridge,  Captain  Bonneville 
now  came  upon  Bear  River,  which,  from  its 
source  to  its  entrance  into  the  Great  Salt  Lake, 
describes  the  figures  of  a  horse-shoe.  One  of  the 
principal  head  waters  of  this  river,  although  sup- 
posed to  abound  with  beaver,  has  never  been 
visited  by  the  trapper ;  rising  among  rugged 
mountains,  and  being  barricadoed  by  fallen  pine 
trees  and  tremendous  precipices. 

Proceeding  down  this  river,  the  party  en- 
camped, on  the  6th  of  November,  at  the  outlet  of 
a  lake  about  thirty  miles  long,  and  from  two  to 
three  miles  in  width,  completely  imbedded  in  low 
ranges  of  mountains,  and  connected  with  Bear 
River  by  an  impassable  swamp.  It  is  called  the 
Little  Lake,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  great  one  of 
salt  water. 

On  the  loth  of  November,  Captain  Bonneville 
visited  a  place  in  the  neighborhood  which  is  quite 
a  region  of  natural  curiosities.  An  area  of  about 
half  a  mile  square  presents  a  level  surface  of  white 
clay  or  fuller's  earth,  perfectly  spotless,  resem- 
bling a  great  slab  of  Parian  marble,  or  a  sheet  of 
dazzling  snow.  The  effect  is  strikingly  beautiful 
at  all  times  ;  in  summer,  when  it  is  surrounded 
with  verdure,  or  in  autumn,  when  it  contrasts  its 
bright  immaculate  surface  with  the  withered  herb- 
age. Seen  from  a  distant  eminence,  it  then 
shines  like  a  mirror,  set  in  the  brown  landscape. 
Around  this  plain  are  clustered  numerous  springs 
of  various  sizes  and  temperatures.  One  of  them, 
of  scalding  heat,  boils  furiously  and  incessantly, 
rising  to  the  hightof  two  or  three  feet.  In  another 
place  there  is  an  aperture  in  the  earth  from  which 
rushes  a  column  of  steam  that  forms  a  perpetual 
cloud.  The  ground  for  some  distance  around 
sounds  hollow,  and  startles  the  solitary  trapper, 
as  he  hears  the  tramp  of  his  horse  giving  the 
sound  of  a  muffled  drum.  He  pictures  to  himself 
a  mysterious  gulf  below,  a  place  of  hidden  fires, 
and  gazes  round  him  with  awe  and  uneasiness. 

The  most  noted  curiosity,  however,  of  this  sin- 
gular region  is  the  Beer  Spring,  of  which  trappers 
give  wonderful  accounts.  They  are  said  to  turn 
aside  from  their  route  through  the  country  to 
drink  of  its  waters,  with  as  much  eagerness  as  the 
Arab  seeks  some  famous  well  of  the  desert.  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  describes  it  as  having  the  taste  of 
beer.  His  men  drank  it  with  avidity,  and  in 
copious  draughts.  It  did  not  appear  to  him  to 


326 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


possess  any  medicinal  properties,  or  to  produce 
any  peculiar  effects.  The  Indians,  however,  re- 
fuse to  taste  it,  and  endeavor  to  persuade  the 
white  men  from  doing  so. 

We  have  heard  this  also  called  the  Soda  Spring, 
and  described  as  containing  iron  and  sulphur.  It 
probably  possesses  some  of  the  properties  of  the 
Ballston  water. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  for  Captain  Bonne- 
ville  to  go  in  quest  of  the  party  of  free  trappers, 
detached  in  the  beginning  of  July,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Mr.  Hodgkiss  to  trap  upon  the  head 
waters  of  Salmon  River.  His  intention  was  to 
unite  them  with  the  party  with  which  he  was  at 
present  travelling,  that  all  might  go  into  quarters 
together  fur  the  winter.  Accordingly,  on  the 
nth  of  November,  he  took  a  temporary  leave  of 
his  band,  appointing  a  rendezvous  on  Snake 
River,  and,  accompanied  by  three  men,  set 
out  upon  his  journey.  His  route  lay  across  the 
plain  of  the  Portneuf,  a  tributary  stream  of  Snake 
River,  called  after  an  unfortunate  Canadian  trap- 
per murdered  by  the  Indians.  The  whole  coun- 
try through  which  he  passed,  bore  evidence  of  vol- 
canic convulsions  and  conflagrations  in  the  olden 
time.  Great  masses  of  lava  lay  scatteerd  about  in 
every  direction  ;  the  crags  and  cliffs  had  appar- 
ently been  under  the  action  of  fire  ;  the  rocks  in 
some  places  seemed  to  have  been  in  a  state  of 
fusion  ;  the  plain  was  rent  and  split  with  deep 
chasms  and  gullies,  some  of  which  were  partly 
filled  with  lava. 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  before 
they  saw  a  party  of  horsemen  galloping  full  tilt  to- 
ward them.  They  instantly  turned,  and  made 
full  speed  for  the  covert  of  a  woody  stream,  to 
fortify  themselves  among  the  trees.  The  Indians 
came  to  a  halt,  and  one  ot  them  came  forward 
aione.  He  reached  Captain  Bonneville  and  his 
men  just  as  they  were  dismounting  and  about  to 
post  themselves.  A  few  words  dispelled  all  un- 
easiness. It  was  a  party  of  twenty-five  Banneck 
Indians,  friendly  to  the  whites,  and  they  proposed, 
through  their  envoy,  that  both  parties  should  en- 
camp together,  and  hunt  the  buffalo,  of  which 
they  had  discovered  several  large  herds  hard  by. 
Captain  Bonneville  cheerfully  assented  to  their 
proposition,  being  curious  to  see  their  manner  of 
hunting. 

Both  parties  accordingly  encamped  together  on 
a  convenient  spot,  and  prepared  for  the  hunt. 
The  Indians  first  posted  a  boy  on  a  small  hill  near 
the  camp,  to  keep  a  lookout  for  enemies.  The 
"  runners,"  then,  as  they  are  called,  mounted  on 
fleet  horses,  and  armed  with  bows  and  arrows, 
moved  slowly  and  cautiously  toward  the  buffalo, 
keeping  as  much  as  possible  out  of  sight,  in  hol- 
lows and  ravines.  When  within  a  proper  dis- 
tance, a  signal  was  given,  and  they  all  opened  at 
once  like  a  pack  ot  hounds,  with  a  full  chorus  ot 
yells,  dashing  into  the  midst  ot  the  herds,  and 
launching  their  arrows  to  the  right  and  left.  The 
plain  seemed  absolutely  to  shake  under  the  tramp 
ot  the  buffalo,  as  they  scoured  off.  The  cows  in 
headlong  panic,  the  bulls  turious  with  rage,  utter- 
ing deep  roars,  and  occasionally  turning  with  a 
desperate  rush  upon  their  pursuers.  Nothing 
could  surpass  the  spirit,  grace,  and  dexterity,  with 
which  the  Indians  managed  their  horses  ;  wheeling 
and  coursing  among  the  affrighted  herd,  and 
launching  their  arrows  with  unerring  aim.  In 
the  midst  of  the  apparent  confusion,  they  selected 
their  victims  with  perfect  judgment,  generally 
aiming  at  the  fattest  of  the  cows,  the  flesh  of  the 
bull  being  nearly  worthless  at  this  season  of  the 


year.  In  a  few  minutes,  each  of  the  hunters  had 
crippled  three  or  four  cows.  A  single  shot  was 
sufficient  for  the  purpose,  and  the  animal,  once 
maimed,  was  left  to  be  completely  dispatched  at 
the  end  of  the  chase.  Frequently  a  cow  was 
killed  on  the  spot  by  a  single  arrow.  In  one  in- 
stance, Captain  Bonneville  saw  an  Indian  shoot 
his  arrow  completely  through  the  body  of  a  cow, 
so  that  it  struck  in  the  ground  beyond.  The 
bulls,  however,  are  not  so  easily  killed  as  the 
cows,  and  always  cost  the  hunter  several  arrows, 
sometimes  making  battle  upon  the  horses,  and 
chasing  them  furiously,  though  severely  wound- 
ed, with  the  darts  still  sticking  in  their  flesh. 

The  grand  scamper  ot  the  hunt  being  over,  the 
Indians  proceeded  to  dispatch  the  animals  that 
had  been  disabled  ;  then  cutting  up  the  carcasses, 
they  returned  with  loads  of  meat  to  the  camp, 
where  the  choicest  pieces  were  soon  roasting  be- 
fore large  fires,  and  a  hunters'  feast  succeeded  ; 
at  which  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  men  were 
qualified,  by  previous  fasting,  to  perform  their 
parts  with  great  vigor. 

Some  men  are  said  to  wax  valorous  upon  a  full 
stomach,  and  such  seemed  to  be  the  case  with  the 
Banneck  braves,  who,  in  proportion  as  they 
crammed  themselves  with  buffalo  meat,  grew 
stout  of  heart,  until,  the  supper  at  an  end,  they 
began  to  chant  war  songs,  setting  forth  their 
mighty  deeds,  and  the  victories  they  had  gained 
over  the  Blackfeet.  Warming  with  the  theme, 
and  inflating  themselves  with  their  own  eulogies, 
these  magnanimous  heroes  of  the  trencher  would 
start  up,  advance  a  short  distance  beyond  the 
light  ol  the  fires,  and  apostrophize  most  vehement- 
ly their  Blackteet  enemies,  as  though  they  had 
been  within  hearing.  Ruffling  and  swelling,  and 
snorting,  and  slapping  their  breasts,  and  brand- 
ishing their  arms,  they  would  vocilerate  all  their 
exploits  ;  reminding  the  Blackteet  how  they  had 
drenched  their  towns  in  tears  and  blood  ;  enumer- 
ate the  blows  they  had  inflicted,  the  warriors  they 
had  slain,  the  scalps  they  had  brought  off  in  tri- 
umph. Then,  having  said  everything  that  could 
stir  a  man's  spleen  or  pique  his  valor,  they  would 
dare  their  imaginary  hearers,  now  that  the  Ban- 
necks  were  few  in  number,  to  come  and  take  their 
revenge — receiving  no  reply  to  this  valorous 
bravado,  they  would  conclude  by  all  kinds  of 
sneers  and  insults,  deriding  the  Blackfeet  for 
dastards  and  poltroons,  that  dared  not  accept 
their  challenge.  Such  is  the  kind  of  swaggering 
and  rhodomontade  in  which  ihe  "  red  men"  are 
prone  to  indulge  in  their  vainglorious  moments  ; 
for,  with  all  their  vaunted  taciturnity,  they  are  vehe- 
mently prone  at  times  to  become  eloquent  about 
their  exploits,  and  to  sound  their  own  trumpet. 

Having  vented  their  valor  in  this  fierce  efferves- 
cence, the  Banneck  braves  gradually  calmed 
down,  lowered  their  crests,  smoothed  their  ruffled 
leathers,  and  betook  themselves  to  sleep,  without 
placing  a  single  guard  over  their  camp  ;  so  that, 
had  the  Blackfeet  taken  them  at  their  word,  but 
few  of  these  braggart  heroes  might  have  survived 
for  any  further  boasting. 

On  the  following  morning,  Captain  Bonneville 
purchased  a  supply  ot  buffalo  meat  from  his  brag- 
gadocio friends  ;  who,  with  all  their  vaporing, 
were  in  fact  a  very  forlorn  horde,  destitute  of  fire- 
'  arms,  and  of  almost  everything  that  constitutes 
riches  in  savage  life.  The  bargain  concluded,  the 
Bannecks  set  off  for  their  village,  which  was  situ- 
ated, they  said,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Portneuf,  and 
Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions  shaped 
their  course  toward  Snake  River. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


327 


Arrived  on  the  banks  of  that  river,  he  found  it 
rapid  and  boisterous,  but  not  too  deep  to  be  ford- 
ed. In  traversing  it,  however,  one  of  the  horses 
was  swept  suddenly  from  his  footing,  and  his 
rider  was  flung  from  the  saddle  into  the  midst  of 
the  stream.  Both  horse  and  horseman  were  ex- 
tricated without  any  damage,  excepting  that  the 
latter  was  completely  drenched,  so  that  it  was 
necessary  to  kindle  a  fire  to  dry  him.  While  they 
were  thus  occupied,  one  of  the  party  looking  up, 
perceived  an  Indian  scout  cautiously  reconnoitring 
them  from  the  summit  of  a  neighboring  hill.  The 
moment  he  found  himself  discovered,  he  disap- 
peared behind  the  hill.  From  his  furtive  move- 
ments, Captain  Bonneville  suspected  him  to  be  a 
scout  from  the  Blackfeet  camp,  and  that  he  had 
gone  to  report  what  he  had  seen  to  his  compan- 
ions. It  would  not  do  to  loiter  in  such  a  neighbor- 
hood, so  the  kindling  of  the  fire  was  abandoned, 
the  drenched  horseman  mounted  in  dripping  con- 
dition, and  the  little  band  pushed  forward  directly 
into  the  plain,  going  at  a  smart  pace,  until  they 
had  gained  a  considerable  distance  from  the  place 
of  supposed  danger.  Here  encamping  for  the 
night,  in  the  midst  of  abundance  of  sage,  or  worm- 
wood, which  afforded  fodder  for  their  horses,  they 
kindled  a  huge  fire  for  the  benefit  of  their  damp 
comrade,  and  then  proceeded  to  prepare  a 
sumptuous  supper  of  buffalo  humps  and  ribs,  and 
other  choice  bits,  which  they  had  brought  with 
them.  After  a  hearty  repast,  relished  with  an  ap- 
petite unknown  to  city  epicures,  they  stretched 
themselves  upon  their  couches  of  skins,  and  under 
the  starry  canopy  of  heaven,  enjoyed  the  sound 
and  sweet  sleep  of  hardy  and  well-fed  moun- 
taineers. 

They  continued  on  their  journey  for  several 
days,  without  any  incident  worthy  of  notice,  and 
on  the  i  o,th  of  November,  came  upon  traces  of  the 
party  of  which  they  were  in  search  ;  such  as 
burned  patches  of  prairie,  and  deserted  camping 
grounds.  All  these  were  carefully  examined,  to 
discover  by  their  freshness  or  antiquity  the  proba- 
ble time  that  the  trappers  had  left  them  ;  at 
length,  after  much  wandering  and  investigating, 
they  came  upon  the  regular  trail  of  the  hunting 
party,  which  led  into  the  mountains,  and  follow- 
ing it  up  briskly,  came  about  two  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  of  the  2oth,  upon  the  encampment  of 
Hodgkiss  and  his  band  of  free  trappers,  in  the 
bosom  ot  a  mountain  valley. 

It  will  be  recollected  that  these  free  trappers, 
who  were  masters  of  themselves  and  their  move- 
ments, had  refused  to  accompany  Captain  Bonne- 
ville back  to  Green  River  in  the  preceding  month 
of  July,  preferring  to  trap  about  the  upper  waters 
of  the  Salmon  River,  where  they  expected  to  find 
plenty  of  beaver,  and  a  less  dangerous  neighbor- 
hood. Their  hunt  had  not  been  very  successful. 
They  had  penetrated  the  great  range  of  mountains 
among  which  some  of  the  upper  branches  of 
Salmon  River  take  their  rise,  but  had  become  so 
entangled  among  immense  and  almost  impassa- 
ble barricades  of  fallen  pines,  and  so  impeded  by 
tremendous  precipices,  that  a  great  part  of  their 
season  had  been  wasted  among  these  mountains.. 
At  one  time  they  had  made  their  way  through 
them,  and  reached  the  Boisse"e  River  ;  but  meet- 
ing with  a  band  oi  Banneck  Indians,  from  whom 
they  apprehended  hostilities,  they  had  again  taken 
shelter  among  the  mountains,  where  they  were 
found  by  Captain  Bonneville.  In  the  neighbor- 
hood of  their  encampment,  the  captain  had  the 
good  fortune  to  meet  with  a  family  of  those  wan- 


derers of  the  mountains,  emphatically  called  "  les 
dignes  de  pitie,"  or  Poordevil  Indians.  These, 
however,  appear  to  have  forfeited  the  title,  for 
they  had  with  them  a  fine  lot  of  skins  of  beaver, 
elk,  deer,  and  mountain  sheep.  These,  Captain 
Bonneville  purchased  from  them  at  a  fair  valua- 
tion, and  sent  them  off  astonished  at  their  own 
wealth,  and  no  doubt  objects  of  envy  to  all  their 
pitiful  tribe. 

Being  now  reinforced  by  Hodgkiss  and  his  band 
of  free  trappers,  Captain  Bonneville  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  united  parties,  and  set  out  to  re- 
join those  he  had  recently  left  at  the  Beer  Spring 
that  they  might  all  go  into  winter  quarters  on 
Snake  River.  On  his  route,  he  encountered  many 
heavy  falls  of  snow,  which  melted  almost  immedi- 
ately, so  as  not  to  impede  his  march,  and  on  the 
4th  of  December,  he  found  his  other  party,  en- 
camped at  the  very  place  where  he  had  partaken 
in  the  buffalo  hunt  with  the  Bannecks. 

That  braggart  horde  was  encamped  but  about 
three  miles  off,  and  were  just  then  in  high  glee 
and  festivity,  and  more  swaggering  than  ever, 
celebrating  a  prodigious  victory.  It  appeared 
that  a  party  of  their  braves  being  out  on  a  hunting 
excursion,  discovered  a  band  of  Blackfeet  moving, 
as  they  thought,  to  surprise  their  hunting  camp. 
The  Bannecks  immediately  posted  themselves  on 
each  side  of  a  dark  ravine,  through  which  the 
enemy  must  pass,  and,  just  as  they  were  en- 
tangled in  the  midst  of  it,  attacked  them  with 
great  fury.  The  Blackfeet,  struck  with  sudden 
panic,  threw  off  their  buffalo  robes  and  fled,  leav- 
ing one  of  their  warriors  dead  on  the  spot.  The 
victors  eagerly  gathered  up  the  spoils  ;  but  their 
greatest  prize  was  the  scalp  of  the  Blackfoot 
brave.  This  they  bore  off  in  triumph  to  the  vil- 
lage, where  it  had  ever  since  been  an  object  of  the 
greatest  exultation  and  rejoicing.  It  had  been 
elevated  upon  a  pole  in  the  centre  of  the  village, 
where  the  warriors  had  celebrated  the  scalp  dance 
round  it,  with  war  feasts,  war  songs,  and  warlike 
harangues.  It  had  then  been  given  up  to  the 
women  and  boys;  who  had  paraded  it  up  and 
down  the  village  with  shouts  and  chants  and  antic 
dances  ;  occasionally  saluting  it  with  all  kinds  of 
taunts,  invectives,  and  revilings. 

The  Blackfeet,  in  this  affair,  do  not  appear  to 
have  acted  up  to  the  character  which  has  ren- 
dered them  objects  of  such  terror.  Indeed,  their 
conduct  in  war,  to  the  inexperienced  observer  is 
full  oi  inconsistencies  ;  at  one  time  they  are  head- 
long in  courage,  and  heedless  of  danger ;  at 
another  time  cautious  almost  to  cowardice.  To 
understand  these  apparent  incongruities,  one  must 
know  their  principles  of  warfare.  A  war  party, 
however  triumphant,  if  they  lose  a  warrior  in  the 
fight,  bring  back  a  cause  of  mourning  to  their 
people,  which  casts  a  shade  over  the  glory  of  their 
achievement.  Hence,  the  Indian  is  often  less 
fierce  and  reckless  in  general  battle  than  he  is  in 
a  private  brawl  ;  and  the  chiefs  are  checked  in 
their  boldest  undertakings  by  the  fear  of  sacrific- 
ing their  warriors. 

This  peculiarity  is  not  confined  to  the  Blackfeet. 
Among  the  Osages,  says  Captain  Bonneville,  when 
a  warrior  falls  in  battle,  his  comrades,  though 
they  have  fought  with  consummate  valor,  and 
won  a  glorious  victory,  will  leave  their  arms  upon 
the  field  of  battle,  and  returning  home  with  de- 
jected countenances,  will  halt  without  the  en- 
campment, and  wait  until  the  relatives  of  the  slain 
come  forth  and  invite  them  to  mingle  again  with 
their  people. 


328 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

WINTER  CAMP  AT  THE  PORTNEUF — FINE  SPRINGS 
— THE  BANNECK  INDIANS — THEIR  HONESTY — 
CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  PREPARES  FOR  AN  EX- 
PEDITION— CHRISTMAS— THE  AMERICAN  FALLS 
— WILD  SCENERY — FISHING  FALLS — SNAKE  IN- 
DIANS— SCENERY  ON  THE  BRUNEAU — VIEW  OF 
VOLCANIC  COUNTRY  FROM  A  MOUNTAIN — POW- 
DER RIVER— SHOSHOKOES,  OR  ROOT  DIGGERS 
— THEIR  CHARACTER,  HABITS,  HABITATIONS, 
DOGS — VANITY  AT  ITS  LAST  SHIFT. 

IN  establishing  his  winter  camp  near  the  Port- 
neuf,  Captain  Bonneville  had  drawn  off  to  some 
little  distance  from  his  Banneck  friends,  to  avoid 
all  annoyance  from  their  intimacy  or  intrusions. 
In  so  doing,  however,  he  had  been  obliged  to  take 
up  his  quarters  on  the  extreme  edge  of  the  flat 
land,  where  he  was  encompassed  with  ice  and 
snow,  and  had  nothing  better  for  his  horses  to 
subsist  on  than  wormwood.  The  Bannecks,  on  the 
contrary,  were  encamped  among  fine  springs  of 
water,  where  there  was  grass  in  abundance. 
Some  of  these  springs  gush  out  of  the  earth  in 
sufficient  quantity  to  turn  a  mill  ;  and  furnish 
beautiful  streams,  clear  as  crystal,  and  full  of 
trout  of  a  large  size  ;  which  may  be  seen  darting 
about  the  transparent  water. 

Winter  now  set  in  regularly.  The  snow  had 
fallen  frequently,  and  in  large  quantities,  and  cov- 
ered the  ground  to  the  depth  of  a  foot  ;  and  the 
continued  coldness  of  the  weather  prevented  any 
thaw. 

By  degrees,  a  distrust  which  at  first  subsisted 
between  the  Indians  and  the  trappers,  subsided, 
and  gave  way  to  mutual  confidence  and  good-will. 
A  few  presents  convinced  the  chiefs  that  the  white 
men  were  their  friends  ;  nor  were  the  white  men 
wanting  in  proofs  of  the  honesty  and  good  faith  of 
their  savage  neighbors.  Occasionally,  the  deep 
snow  and  the  want  of  fodder  obliged  them  to  turn 
their  weakest  horses  out  to  roam  in  quest  of  sus- 
tenance. If  they  at  any  time  strayed  to  the  camp 
of  the  Bannecks,  they  were  immediately  brought 
back.  It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  if  the 
stray  horse  happened,  by  any  chance,  to  be  in 
vigorous  plight  and  good  condition,  though  he 
was  equally  sure  to  be  returned  by  the  honest  Ban- 
necks,  yet  it  was  always  after  the  lapse  of  several 
days,  and  in  a  very  gaunt  and  jaded  state  ;  and 
always  with  the  remark  that  they  had  found  him 
a  long  way  off.  The  uncharitable  were  apt  to 
surmise  that  he  had,  in  the  interim,  been  well 
used  up  in  a  buffalo  hunt  ;  but  those  accustomed 
to  Indian  morality  in  the  matter  of  horseflesh,  con- 
sidered it  a  singular  evidence  of  honasty  that  he 
should  be  brought  back  at  all. 

Being  convinced,  therefore,  from  these,  and 
other  circumstances,  that  his  people  were  en- 
camped in  the  neighborhood  of  a  tribe  as  honest 
as  they  were  valiant,  and  satisfied  that  they  would 
pass  their  winter  unmolested,  Captain  Bonneville 
prepared  for  a  reconnoitring  expedition  of  great 
extent  and  peril.  This  was,  to  penetrate  to  the 
Hudson's  Bay  establishments  on  the  banks  of  the 
Columbia,  and  to  make  himself  acquainted  with 
the  country  and  the  Indian  tribes;  it  being  one 
part  of  his  scheme  to  establish  a  trading  post 
somewhere  on  the  lower  part  of  the  river,  so  as  to 

Earticipate  in  the  trade  lost  to  the  United  States 
y  the  capture  of  Astoria.  This  expedition  would, 
of  course,  take  him  through  the  Snake  River  coun- 
try, and  across  the  Blue  Mountains,  the  scenes  of 
so    much   hardship   and   disaster    to    Hunt   and 


Crooks,  and  their  Astorian  bands,  who  first  ex- 
plored it,  and  he  would  have  to  pass  through  it  in 
the  same  frightful  season,  the  depth  of  winter. 

The  idea  of  risk  and  hardship,  however,  only 
served  to  stimulate  the  adventurous  spirit  of  the 
captain.  He  chose  three  companions  for  his  jour- 
ney, put  up  a  small  stock  ot  necessaries  in  the 
most  portable  form,  and  selected  five  horses  and 
mules  for  themselves  and  their  baggage.  He  pro- 
posed to  rejoin  his  band  in  the  early  part  of 
March,  at  the  winter  encampment  near  the  Port- 
neut.  All  these  arrangements  being  completed, 
he  mounted  his  horse  on  Christmas  morning,  and 
set  off  with  his  three  comrades.  They  halted  a 
little  beyond  the  Banneck  camp,  and  made  their 
Christmas  dinner,  which,  if  not  a  very  merry,  was 
a  very  hearty  one,  after  which  they  resumed  their 
journey. 

They  were  obliged  to  travel  slowly,  to  spare 
their  horses  ;  for  the  snow  had  increased  in  depth 
to  eighteen  inches  ;  and  though  somewhat  packed 
and  frozen,  was  not  sufficiently  so  to  yield  firm 
footing.  Their  route  lay  to  the  west,  clown  along 
the  left  side  of  Snake  River  ;  and  they  were  sev- 
eral days  in  reaching  the  first,  or  American  Falls. 
The  banks  of  the  river,  for  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, both  above  and  below  the  falls,  have  a  vol- 
canic character  ;  masses  of  basaltic  rock  are  piled 
one  upon  another  ;  the  water  makes  its  way 
through  their  broken  chasms,  boiling  through 
narrow  channels,  or  pitching  in  beautiful  cascades 
over  ridges  of  basaltic  columns. 

Beyond  these  falls,  they  came  to  a  picturesque, 
but  inconsiderable  stream,  called  the  Cassie.  It 
runs  through  a  level  valley,  about  four  miles 
wide,  where  the  soil  is  good  ;  but  the  prevalent 
coldness  and  dryness  of  the  climate  is  unfavorable 
to  vegetation.  Near  to  this  stream  there  is  a 
small  mountain  of  mica  slate,  including  garnets. 
Granite,  in  small  blocks,  is  likewise  seen  in  this 
neighborhood,  and  white  sandstone.  From  this 
river,  the  travellers  had  a  prospect  of  the  snowy 
heights  of  the  Salmon  River  Mountains  to  the 
north  ;  the  nearest,  at  least  fifty  miles  distant. 

In  pursuing  his  course  westward,  Captain 
Bonneville  generally  kept  several  miles  from 
Snake  River,  crossing  the  heads  of  its  tributary 
streams;  though  he  often  found  the  open  country 
so  encumbered  by  volcanic  rocks,  as  to  render 
travelling  extremely  diffigult.  Whenever  he  ap- 
proached Snake  River,  he  found  it  running 
through  a  broad  chasm,  with  steep,  perpendicular 
sides  of  basaltic  rock.  After  several  days'  travel 
across  a  level  plain,  he  came  to  a  part  ot  the  river 
which,  filled  him  with  astonishment  and  admira- 
tion. As  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the  river  was 
walled  in  by  perpendicular  cliffs  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  high,  beetling  like  dark  and  gloomy  bat- 
tlements, while  blocks  and  fragments  lay  in 
masses  at  their  feet,  in  the  midst  of  the  boiling 
and  whirling  current.  Just  above,  the  whole 
stream  pitched  in  one  cascade  above  forty  feet  in 
height,  with  a  thundering  sound,  casting  up  a 
volume  of  spray  that  hung  in  the  air  like  a  silver 
mist.  These  are  called  by  some  the  Fishing  Falls, 
as  the  salmon  are  taken  here  in  immense  quanti- 
ties. They  cannot  get  by  these  falls. 

After  encamping  at  this  place  all  night,  Captain 
Bonneville,  at  sunrise,  descended  with  his  party 
through  a  narrow  ravine,  or  rather  crevice,  in  the 
vast  wall  of  basaltic  rock  which  bordered  the 
river  ;  this  being  the  only  mode,  for  many  miles, 
ot  getting  to  the  margin  of  the  stream. 

The  snow  lay  in  a  thin  crust  along  the  banks  of 
the  river,  so  that  their  travelling  was  much  more 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


329 


easy  than  it  had  been  hitherto.  There  were  foot 
tracks,  also,  made  by  the  natives, which  greatly 
facilitated  their  progress.  Occasionally,  they  met 
the  inhabitants  of  this  wild  region  ;  a  timid  race, 
and  but  scantily  provided  with  the  necessaries  of 
life.  Their  dress  consisted  of  a  mantle  about  four 
feet  square,  formed  of  strips  of  rabbit  skins  sewed 
together  ;  this  they  hung  over  their  shoulders,  in 
the  ordinary  Indian  mode  of  wearing  the  blanket. 
Their  weapons  were  bows  and  arrows  ;  the  latter 
tipped  with  obsidian,  which  abounds  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. Their  huts  were  shaped  like  hay- 
stacks, and  constructed  of  branches  of  willow  cov- 
ered with  long  grass,  so  as  to  be  warm  and  com- 
fortable. Occasionally,  they  were  surrounded  by 
small  inclosures  of  wormwood,  about  three  feet 
high,  which  gave  them  a  cottage-like  appearance. 
Three  or  four  of  these  tenements  were  occasion- 
ally grouped  together  in  some  wild  and  striking 
situation,  and  had  a  picturesque  effect.  Some- 
times they  were  in  sufficient  number  to  forma 
small  hamlet.  From  these  people  Captain  Bonne- 
ville's  party  frequently  purchased  salmon,  dried 
in  an  admirable  manner,  as  were  likewise  the  roes. 
This  seemed  to  be  their  prime  article  of  food  ; 
but  they  were  extremely  anxious  to  get  buffalo 
meat  in  exchange. 

The  high  walls  and  rocks,  within  which  the 
travellers  had  been  so  long  inclosed,  now  occa- 
sionally presented  openings,  through  which  they 
were  enabled  to  ascend  to  the  plain,  and  to  cut  off 
considerable  bends  of  the  river. 

Throughout  the  whole  extent  of  this  vast  and 
singular  chasm,  the  scenery  of  the  river  is  said  to 
be  of  the  most  wild  and  romantic  character.  The 
rocks  present  every  variety  of  masses  and  group- 
ing. Numerous  small  streams  come  rushing  and 
boiling  through  narrow  clefts  and  ravines  ;  one 
of  a  considerable  size  issued  from  the  face  of  a 
jfrecipice,  within  twenty-five  feet  of  its  summit  ; 
and  after  running  in  nearly  a  horizontal  line  lor 
about  one  hundred  feet,  fell,  by  numerous  small 
cascades,  to  the  rocky  bank  of  the  river. 

In  its  career  through  this  vast  and  singular  de- 
file, Snake  River  is  upward  of  three  hundred  yards 
wide,  and  as  clear  as  spring  water.  Sometimes 
it  steals  along  with  a  tranquil  and  noiseless 
course  ;  at  other  times,  for  miles  and  miles,  it 
dashes  on  in  a  thousand  rapids,  wild  and  beauti- 
ful to  the  eye,  and  lulling  the  ear  with  the  soft 
tumult  of  plashing  waters. 

Many  of  the  tributary  streams  of  Snake  River, 
rival  it  in  the  wildness  and  picturesqueness  of 
their  scenery.  That  called  the  Bruneau  is  par- 
ticularly cited.  It  runs  through  a  tremendous 
chasm,  rather  than  a  valley,  extending  upward  of 
a  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  .  You  come  upon  it  on 
a  sudden,  in  traversing  a  level  plain.  It  seems  as 
if  you  could  throw  a  stone  across  from  cliff  to 
cliff  ;  yet,  the  valley  is  near  two  thousand  feet 
deep  ;  so  that  the  river  looks  like  an  inconsider- 
able stream.  Basaltic  rocks  rise  perpendicularly, 
so  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  from  the  plain  to 
the  water,  or  from  the  river  margin  to  the  plain. 
The  current  is  bright  and  limpid.  Hot  springs 
are  found  on  the  borders  of  this  river.  One  bursts 
out  of  the  cliffs  forty  feet  above  the  river  in  a 
stream  sufficient  to  turn  a  mill,  and  sends  up  a 
cloud  of  vapor. 

We  find  a  characteristic  picture  of  this  volcanic 
region  of  mountains  and  streams,  furnished  by 
the  journal  of  Mr.  Wyeth,  which  lies  before  us'; 
who  ascended  a  peak  in  the  neighborhood  we  are 
describing.  From  this  summit,  the  country,  he 
says,  appears  an  indescribable  chaos  ;  the  tops  of 


the  hills  exhibit  the  same  strata  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach  ;  and  appear  to  have  once  formed  the 
level  of  the  country  ;  and  the  valleys  to  be  formed 
by  the  sinking  of  the  earth,  rather  than  the  rising 
of  the  hills.  Through  the  deep  cracks  and 
chasms  thus  formed,  the  rivers  and  brooks  make 
their  way,  which  renders  it  difficult  to  follow 
them.  All  these  basaltic  channels  are  called  cut 
rocks  by  the  trappers.  Many  ot  the  mountain 
streams  disappear  in  the  plains  ;  either  absorbed 
by  their  thirsty  soil,  and  by  the  porous  surface  of 
the  lava,  or  swallowed  up  in  gulfs  and  chasms. 

On  the  I2th  of  January  (1834),  Captain  Bonne- 
ville  reached  Powder  River  ;  much  the  largest 
stream  that  he  had  seen  since  leaving  the  Port- 
neuf.  He  struck  it  about  three  miles  above  its 
entrance  into  Snake  River.  Here  he  found  him- 
self above  the  lower  narrows  and  defiles  of  the 
latter  river,  and  in  an  open  and  level  country. 
The  natives  now  made  their  appearance  in  con- 
siderable numbers,  and  evinced  the  most  insatia- 
ble curiosity  respecting  the  white  men  ;  sitting  in 
groups  for  hours  together,  exposed  to  the  bleakest 
winds,  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  gazing  upon 
the  strangers,  and  watching  every  movement. 
These  are  of  that  branch  of  the  great  Snake  tribe 
called  Shoshokoes,  or  Root  Diggers,  from  their 
subsisting,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the  roots  of  the 
earth  ;  though  they  likewise  take  fish  in  great 
quantities,  and  hunt,  in  a  small  way.  They  are, 
in  general,  very  poor  ;  destitute  of  most  of  the 
comforts  of  life,  and  extremely  indolent';  but  a 
mild,  inoffensive  race.  They  differ,  in  many  re- 
spects, from  the  other  branch  of  the  Snake  tribe, 
the  Shoshonies  ;  who  possess  horses,  are  more 
roving  and  adventurous,  and  hunt  the  buffalo. 

On  the  following  day,  as  Captain  Bonneville 
approached  the  mouth  of  Powder  River,  he  dis- 
covered at  least  a  hundred  families  of  these 
Diggers,  as  they  are  familiarly  called,  assembled 
in  one  place.  The  women  and  children  kept  at  a 
distance,  perched  among  the  rocks  and  cliffs  ; 
their  eager  curiosity  being  somewhat  dashed  with 
fear.  From  their  elevated  posts,  they  scrutinized 
the  strangers  with  the  most  intense  earnestness  ; 
regarding  them  with  almost  as  much  awe  as  if 
they  had  been  beings  of  a  supernatural  order. 

The  men,  however,  were  by  no  means  so  shy 
and  reserved  ;  but  importuned  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  companions  excessively  by  their  curiosity. 
Nothing  escaped  their  notice  ;  and  any  thing  they 
could  lay  their  hands  on,  underwent  the  most 
minute  examination.  To  get  rid  of  such  inquisi- 
tive neighbors,  the  travellers  kept  on  for  a  consid- 
erable distance,  before  they  encamped  for  the 
night. 

The  country,  hereabout,  was  generally  level 
and  sandy  ;  producing  very  little  grass,  but  a  con- 
siderable quantity  of  sage  or  wormwood.  The 
plains  were  diversified  by  isolated  hills,  all  cut  off 
as  it  were,  about  the  same  height,  so  as  to  have 
tabular  summits.  In  this  they  resembled  the 
isolated  hills  of  the  great  prairies,  east  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  ;  especially  those  found  on  the 
plains  of  the  Arkansas. 

The  high  precipices  which  had  hitherto  walled 
in  the  channel  of  Snake  River,  had  now  disap- 
peared ;  and  the  banks  were  of  the  ordinary 
height.  It  should  be  observed,  that  the  great  val- 
leys or  plains,  through  which  the  Snake  River 
wound  its  course,  were  generally  of  great  breadth, 
extending  on  each  side  from  thirty  to  forty  miles  ; 
where  the  view  was  bounded  by  unbroken  ridges 
of  mountains. 

The  travellers  found   but  little   snow    in   the 


330 


BONNEVILLE  S   ADVENTURES. 


neighborhood  of  Powder  River,  though  the 
weather  continued  intensely  cold.  They  learned 
a  lesson,  however,  from  their  forlorn  friends,  the 
Root  Diggers,  which  they  subsequently  found  of 
great  service  in  their  wintry  wanderings.  They 
frequently  observed  them  to  be  furnished  with 
long  ropes,  twisted  from  the  bark  of  the  worm- 
wood. This  they  used  as  a  slow  match,  carrying 
it  always  lighted.  Whenever  they  wished  to 
warm  themselves,  they  would  gather  together  a 
little  dry  wormwood,  apply  the  match,  and  in  an 
instant  produce  a  cheering  blaze. 

Captain  Bonneville  gives  a  cheerless  account  of 
a  village  of  these  Diggers,  which  he  saw  in  cross- 
ing the  plain  below  Powder  River.  "  They  live," 
says  he,  "  without  any  further  protection  from  the 
inclemency  of  the  season,  than  a  sort  of  break- 
weather,  about  three  feet  high,  composed  of  sage 
(or  wormwood),  and  erected  around  them  in  the 
shape  of  a  half  moon."  Whenever  he  met  with 
them,  however,  they  had  always  a  large  suite  of 
half-starved  dogs  ;  for  these  animals,  in  savage  as 
well  as  in  civilized  life,  seem  to  be  the  concomi- 
tants of  beggary. 

These  dogs,  it  must  be  allowed,  were  of  more 
use  than  the  beggarly  curs  of  cities.  The  Indian 
children  used  them  in  hunting  the  small  game  of 
the  neighborhood,  such  as  rabbits  and  prairie 
dogs  ;  in  which  mongrel  kind  of  chase  they  ac- 
quitted themselves  with  some  credit. 

Sometimes  the  Diggers  aspire  to  a  nobler  game, 
and  succeed  in  entrapping  the  antelope,  the  fleet- 
est animal  of  the  prairies.  The  process  by  which 
this  is  effected  is  somewhat  singular.  When  the 
snow  has  disappeared,  says  Captain  Bonneville, 
and  the  ground  become  soft,  the  women  go  into 
the  thickest  fields  of  wormwood,  and  pulling  it  up 
in  great  quantities,  construct  with  it  a  hedge 
about  three  feet  high,  inclosing  about  a  hundred 
acres.  A  single  opening  is  left  for  the  admission  of 
the  game.  This  done,  the  women  conceal  them- 
selves behind  the  wormwood,  and  wait  patiently 
for  the  coming  of  the  antelopes  ;  which  sometimes 
enter  this  spacious  trap  in  considerable  numbers. 
As  soon  as  they  are  in,  the  women  give  the  signal, 
and  the  men  hasten  to  play  their  part.  But  one 
of  them  enters  the  pen  at  a  time  ;  and,  after  chas- 
ing the  terrified  animals  round  the  inclosure,  is 
relieved  by  one  of  his  companions.  In  this  way 
the  hunters  take  their  turns,  relieving  each  other, 
and  keeping  up  a  continued  pursuit  by  relays, 
without  fatigue  to  themselves.  The  poor  ante- 
lopes, in  the  end,  are  so  wearied  down,  that  the 
whole  party  of  men  enter  and  dispatch  them  with 
clubs  ;  not  one  escaping  that  has  entered  the  in- 
closure.  The  most  curious  circumstance  in  this 
chase  is,  that  an  animal  so  fleet  and  agile  as  the 
antelope,  and  straining  for  its  life,  should  range 
round  and  round  this  fated  inclosure,  without 
attempting  to  overleap  the  low  barrier  which 
surrounds  it.  Such,  however  is,  said  to  be  the 
fact ;  and  such  their  only  mode  of  hunting  the  an- 
telope. 

Notwithstanding-  the  absence  of  all  comfort  and 
convenience  in  their  habitations,  and  the  general 
squalidness  of  their  appearance,  the  Shoshokoes 
do  not  appear  to  be  destitute  of  ingenuity.  They 
manufacture  good  ropes,  and  even  a  tolerably  fine 
thread,  from  a  sort  of  weed  found  in  their  neigh- 
borhood; and  construct  bowls  and  jugs  out  of  a 
kind  of  basket-work  formed  from  small  strips  of 
wood  plaited  ;  these,  by  the  aid  of  a  little  wax, 
they  render  perfectly  water  tight.  Beside  the 
roots  on  which  they  mainly  depend  for  subsist- 
ence, they  collect  great  quantities  of  seed,  of  vari- 


ous kinds,  beaten  with  one  hand  out  of  the  tops  of 
the  plants  into  wooden  bowls  held  for  that  pur- 
pose. The  seed  thus  collected  is  winnowed  and 
parched,  and  ground  between  two  stones  into  a 
kind  of  meal  or  flour  ;  which,  when  mixed  with 
water,  forms  a  very  palatable  paste  or  gruel. 

Some  of  these  people,  more  provident  and  in- 
dustrious than  the  rest,  lay  up  a  stock  of  dried 
salmon,  and  other  fish,  for  winter  ;  -with  these, 
they  were  ready  to  traffic  with  the  travellers  for 
any  objects  of  utility  in  Indian  life  ;  giving  a  large 
quantity  in  exchange  for  an  awl,  a  knife,  or  a  fish- 
hook. Others  were  in  the  most  abject  state  of 
want  and  starvation  ;  and  would  even  gather  up 
the  fish-bones  which  the  travellers  threw  away 
after  a  repast,  warm  them  over  again  at  the  fire, 
and  pick  them  with  the  greatest  avidity. 

The  farther  Captain  Bonneville  advanced  into 
the  country  of  these  Root  Diggers,  the  more  evi- 
dence he  perceived  of  their  rude  and  forlorn  con- 
dition. "  They  were  destitute,"  says  he,  "  of  the 
necessary  covering  to  protect  them  from  the 
weather  ;  and  seemed  to  be  in  the  most  unsophis- 
ticated ignorance  of  any  other  propriety  or  advan- 
tage in  the  use  of  clothing.  One  old  dame  had 
absolutely  nothing  on  her  person  but  a  thread 
round  her  neck,  from  which  was  pendent  a  soli- 
tary bead." 

What  stage  of  human  destitution,  however,  is 
too  destitute  for  vanity  !  Though  these  naked  and 
forlorn-looking  beings  had  neither  toilet  to  ar- 
range, nor  beauty  to  contemplate,  their  greatest 
passion  was  for  a  mirror.  It  was  a  "  great  medi- 
cine," in  their  eyes.  The  sight  of  one  was  suffi- 
cient, at  any  time,  to  throw  them  into  a  paroxysm 
of  eagerness  and  delight  ;  and  they  were  ready 
to  give  anything  they  had  for  the  smallest  frag- 
ment in  which  they  might  behold  their  squalid  fea- 
tures. With  this  simple  instance  of  vanity,  in  its 
primitive  but  vigorous  state,  we  shall  close  our 
remarks  on  the  Root  Diggers. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

TEMPERATURE  OF  THE  CLIMATE— ROOT  DIGGERS 
ON  HORSEBACK— AN  INDIAN  GUIDE— MOUN- 
TAIN PROSPECTS — THE  GRAND  ROND — DIFFI- 
CULTIES ON  SNAKE  RIVER — A  SCRAMBLE  OVER 
THE  BLUE  MOUNTAINS— SUFFERINGS  FROM 
HUNGER — PROSPECT  OF  THE  IMMAHAH  VAL- 
LEY— THE  EXHAUSTED  TRAVELLER. 

THE  temperature  of.  the  regions  west  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  is  much  milder  than  in  the  same 
latitudes  on  the  Atlantic  side  ;  the  upper  plains, 
however,  which  lie  at  a  distance  from  the  sea- 
coast  are  subject  in  winter  to  considerable  vicissi- 
tude ;  being  traversed  by  lofty  "  sierras,"  crowned 
with  perpetual  snow,  which  often  produce  flaws 
and  streaks  of  intense  cold.  This  was  experi- 
enced by  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions 
in  their  progress  westward.  At  the  time  when 
they  left  tthe  Bannecks,  Snake  River  was  frozen 
hard  ;  as  they  proceeded,  the  ice  became  broken 
and  floating  ;  it  gradually  disappeared,  and  the 
weather  became  warm  and  pleasant,  as  they  ap- 
proached a  tributary  stream  called  the  Little 
Wyer  ;  and  the  soil,  which  was  generally  of  a 
watery  clay,  with  occasional  intervals  of  sand, 
was  soft  to  the  tread  of  the  horses.  After  a  time, 
however,  the  mountains  approached  and  flanked 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


331 


the  river,  the  snow  lay  deep  in  the  valleys,  and 
the  current  was  once  more  icebound. 

Here  they  were  visited  by  a  party  of  Root  Dig- 
gers, who  were  apparently  rising  in  the  world,  for 
they  had  "  a  horse  to  ride  and  weapon  to  wear," 
and  were  altogether  better  clad  aVid  equipped  than 
any  of  the  tribe  that  Captain  Bonneville  had  met 
with.  They  were  just  from  the  plain  of  Boise"e 
River,  where  they  had  left  a  number  of  their  tribe, 
all  as  well  provided  as  themselves,  having  guns, 
horses,  and  comfortable  clothing.  All  these  they 
obtained  from  the  Lower  Nez  Perec's,  with  whom 
they  were  in  habits  of  frequent  traffic.  They  ap- 
peared to  have  imbibed  from  that  tribe  their  non- 
combative  principles,  being  mild  and  inoffensive 
in  their  manners.  Like  them,  also,  they  had 
something  of  religious  feelings ;  for  Captain 
Bonneville  observed  that,  before  eating  they 
washed  their  hands  and  made  a  short  prayer  ; 
which  he  understood  was  their  invariable  custom. 
From  these  Indians  he  obtained  a  considerable 
supply  of  fish,  and  an  excellent  and  well-condi- 
tioned horse,  to  replace  one  which  had  become  too 
"weak  for  the  journey. 

The  travellers  now  moved  forward  with  reno- 
vated spirits  ;  the  snow,  it  is  true,  lay  deeper  and 
deeper  as  they  advanced,  but  they  trudged  on 
merrily,  ocnsidering  themselves  well  provide:!  for 
the  journey,  which  could  not  be  of  much  longer 
duration. 

They  had  intended  to  proceed  up  the  banks  of 
Gun  Creek,  a  stream  which  flows  into  Snake  River 
from  the  west  ;  but  were  assured  by  the  natives 
that  the  route  in  that  direction  was  impracticable. 
The  latter  advised  them  to  keep  along  Snake 
River,  where  they  would  not  be  impeded  by  the 
snow.  Taking  one  of  the  Diggers  for  a  guide  they 
set  off  along  the  river,  and  to  their  joy  soon  found 
the  country  free  from  snow,  as  had  been  predict- 
ed, so  that  their  horses  once  more  had  the  benefit 
of  tolerable  pasturage.  Their  Digger  proved  an 
excellent  guide,  trudging  cheerily  in  the  advance. 
He  made  an  unsuccessful  shot  or  two  at  a  deer 
and  a  beaver  ;  but  at  night  found  a  rabbit  hole, 
whence  he  extracted  the  occupant,  upon  which, 
with  the  addition  of  a  fish  given  by  the  travellers, 
he  made  a  hearty  supper,  and  retired  to  rest,  filled 
with  good  cheer  and  good  humor. 

The  next  day  the  travellers  came  to  where  the 
hills  closed  upon  the  river,  leaving  here  and  there 
intervals  of  undulating  meadow  land.  The  river 
was  sheeted  with  ice,  broken  into  hills  at  long  in- 
tervals. The  Digger  kept  on  ahead  of  the  party, 
crossing  and  recrossing  the  river  in  pursuit  of 
game,  until,  unluckily,  encountering  a  brother 
Digger,  he  stole  off  with  him,  without  the  cere- 
mony of  leave-taking. 

Being  now  left  to  themselves,  they  proceeded 
until  they  came  to  some  Indian  huts,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  which  spoke  a  language  totally  different 
from  any  they  had  yet  heard.  One,  however,  un- 
derstood the  Nez  Perce  language,  and  through 
him  they  made  inquiries  as  to  their  route.  These 
Indians  were  extremely  kind  and  honest,  and  fur- 
nished them  with  a  small  quantity  of  meat  ;  but 
none  of  them  could  be  induced  to  act  as  guides. 

Immediately  in  the  route  of  the  travellers  lay  a 
high  mountain,  which  they  ascended  with  some 
difficulty.  The  prospect  from  the  summit  was 
grand  but  disheartening.  Directly  before  them 
towered  the  loftiest  peaks  of  Immahah  rising  far 
higher  than  the  elevated  ground  on  which  they 
stood  ;  on  the  other  hand,  they  were  enabled  to 
scan  the  course  of  the  river,  dashing  along  through 
deep  chasms,  between  rocks  and  precipices,  until 


lost  in  a  distant  wilderness  of  mountains,  which 
closed  the  savage  landscape. 

They  remained  for  a  long  time  contemplating, 
with  perplexed  and  anxious  eye,  this  wild  congre- 
gation of  mountain  barriers,  and  seeking  to  dis- 
cover some  practicable  passage.  The  approach 
of  evening  obliged  them  to  give  up  the  task,  and 
to  seek  some  camping  ground  for  the  night.  Mov- 
ing briskly  forward,  and  plunging  and  tossing 
through  a  succession  of  deep  snow-drifts,  they  at 
length  reached  a  valley  known  among  trappers  as 
the  "  Grand  Rond,"  which  they  found  entirely 
free  from  snow. 

This  is  a  beautiful  and  very  fertile  valley,  about 
twenty  miles  long  and  five  or  six  broad  ;  a  bright 
cold  stream  called  the  Fourche  de  Glace,  or  Ice 
River,  runs  through  it.  Its  sheltered  situation, 
embosomed  in  mountains,  renders  it  good  pastur- 
ing ground  in  the  winter  time  ;  when  the  elk 
come  down  to  it  in  great  numbers,  driven  out  of 
the  mountains  by  the  snow.  The  Indians  then 
resort  to  it  to  hunt.  They  likewise  come  to  it  in 
the  summer  to  dig  the  camash  root,  of  which  it 
produces  immense  quantities.  When  this  plant 
is  in  blossom,  the  whole  valley  is  tinted  by  its  blue 
flowers,  and  looks  like  the  ocean  when  overcast 
by  a  cloud. 

After  passing  a  night  in  this  valley,  the  travel- 
lers in  the  morning  scaled  the  neighboring  hills, 
to  look  out  for  a  more  eligible  route  than  that 
upon  which  they  had  unluckily  lallen  ;  and,  after 
much  reconnoitring  determined  to  make  their 
way  once  more  to  the  river,  and  to  travel  upon 
the  ice  when  the  banks  should  prove  impassable. 

On  the  second  day  after  this  determination,  they 
were  again  upon  Snake  River,  but,  contrary  to 
their  expectations,  it  was  nearly  free  from  ice.  A 
narrow  ribbon  ran  along  the  shore,  and  sometimes 
there  was  a  kind  of  bridge  across  the  stream, 
formed  of  old  ice  and  snow.  For  a  short  time, 
they  jogged  along  the  bank,  with  tolerable  facil- 
ity, but  at  length  came  to  where  the  river  forced 
its  way  into  the  heart  of  the  mountains,  winding 
between  tremendous  walls  of  basaltic  rock,  that 
rose  perpendicularly  from  the  water's  edge,  frown- 
ing in  bleak  and  gloomy  grandeur.  Here  diffi- 
culties of  all  kinds  beset  their  path.  The  snow 
was  from  two  to  three  feet  deep,  but  soft  and 
yielding,  so  that  the  horses  had  no  foothold,  but 
kept  plunging  forward,  straining  themselves  by 
perpetual  efforts.  Sometimes  the  crags  and  pro- 
montories forced  them  upon  the  narrow  ribbon 
of  ice  that  bordered  the  shore  ;  sometimes  they 
had  to  scramble  over  vast  masses  of  rock  which 
had  tumbled  from  the  impending  precipices  ; 
sometimes  they  had  to  cross  the  stream  upon  the 
hazardous  bridges  of  ice  and  snow,  sinking  to  the 
knee  at  every  step  ;  sometimes  they  had  to  scale 
slippery  acclivities,  and  to  pass  along  narrow  cor- 
nices, glazed  with  ice  and  sleet,  a  shouldering 
wall  of  rock  on  one  side,  a  yawning  precipice  on 
the  other,  where  a  single  false  step  would  have 
been  fatal.  In  a  lower  and  less  dangerous  pass, 
two  of  their  horses  actually  fell  into  the  river  ; 
one  was  saved  with  much  difficulty,  but  the  bold- 
ness of  the  shore  prevented  their  rescuing  the 
other,  and  he  was  swept  away  by  the  rapid  cur- 
rent. 

In  this  way  they  struggled  forward,  manfully 
braving  difficulties  and  dangers,  until  they  came  to 
where  the  bed  of  the  river  was  narrowed  to  a  mere 
chasm,  with  perpendicular  walls  of  rock  that  defied 
all  further  progress.  Turning  their  faces  now  to 
the  mountain,  they  endeavored  to  cross  directly 
over  it ;  but,  after  clambering  nearly  to  the  sum- 


332 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


mit,   found  their  path  closed  by  insurmountable 
barriers. 

Nothing  now  remained  but  to  retrace  their 
steps.  To  descend  a  cragged  mountain,  how- 
ever, was  more  difficult  and  dangerous  than  to  as- 
cend it.  They  had  to  lower  themselves,  cautiously 
and  slowly,  from  steep  to  steep  ;  and,  while  they 
managed  with  difficulty  to  maintain  their  own 
looting,  to  aid  their  horses  by  holding  on  firmly 
to  the  rope  halters,  as  the  poor  animals  stumbled 
among  slippery  rocks,  or  slid  down  icy  declivities. 
Thus,  after  a  day  of  intense  cold,  and  severe  and 
incessant  toil,  amid  the  wildest  of  scenery,  they 
managed,  about  nightfall,  to  reach  the  camping 
ground  from  which  they  had  started  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  for  the  first  time  in  the  course  of  their 
rugged  and  perilous  expedition,  felt  their  hearts 
quailing  under  their  multiplied  hardships. 

A  hearty  supper,  a  tranquillizing  pipe,  and  a 
sound  night's  sleep,  put  them  all  in  better  mood, 
and  it»  the  morning  they  held  a  consultation  as  to 
their  future  movements.  About  four  miles  he- 
hind,  they  had  remarked  a  small  ridge  of  moun- 
tains approaching  closely  to  the  river.  It  was 
determined  to  scale  this  ridge,  and  seek  a  passage 
into  the  valley  which  must  lie  beyond.  Should 
they  fail  in  this,  but  one  alternative  remained.  To 
kill  their  horses,  dry  the  flesh  for  provisions,  make 
boats  of  the  hides,  and,  in  these,  commit  them- 
selves to  the  stream — a  measure  hazardous  in  the 
extreme. 

A  short  march  brought  them  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  but  its  steep  and  cragged  sides  almost 
discouraged  hope.  The  only  chance  of  scaling 
it  was  by  broken  masses  of  rock,  piled  one  upon 
another,  which  formed  a  succession  of  crags, 
reaching  nearly  to  the  summit.  Up  these  they 
wrought  their  way  with  indescribable  difficulty 
and  peril,  in  a  zigzag  course,  climbing  from  rock 
to  rock,  and  helping  their  horses  up  after  them  ; 
which  scrambled  among  the  crags  like  mountain 
goats  ;  now  and  then  dislodging  some  huge 
stone,  which,  the  moment  they  had  left  it,  would 
roll  down  the  mountain,  crashing  and  rebound- 
ing with  terrific  din.  It  was  some  time  after 
dark  before  they  reached  a  kind  of  platform  on 
the  summit  of  the  mountain,  where  they  could 
venture  to  encamp.  The  winds,  which  swept  this 
naked  height,  had  whirled  all  the  snow  into  the 
valley  beneath,  so  that  the  horses  found  tolerable 
winter  pasturage  on  the  dry  grass  which  remained 
exposed.  The  travellers,  though  hungry  in  the 
extreme,  were  fain  to  make  a  very  frugal  supper  ; 
for  they  saw  their  journey  was  likely  to  be  pro- 
longed much  beyond  the  anticipated  term. 

In  fact,  on  the  following  day  they  discerned  that, 
although  already  at  a  great  elevation,  they  were 
only  as  yet  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  It 
proved  to  be  a  great  sierra,  or  ridge,  of  immense 
height,  running  parallel  to  the  course  of  the  river, 
swelling  by  degrees  to  lofty  peaks,  but  the  outline 
gashed  by  deep  and  precipitous  ravines.  This, 
in  fact,  was  a  part  of  the  chain  of  Blue  Moun- 
tains, in  which  the  first  adventurers  to  Astoria  ex- 
perienced such  hardships. 

We  will  not  pretend  to  accompany  the  travel- 
lers step  by  step  in  this  tremendous  mountain 
scramble,  into  which  they  had  unconsciously  be- 
trayed themselves.  Day  after  day  did  their  toil 
continue  ;  peak  after  peak  had  they  to  traverse, 
struggling  with  difficulties  and  hardships  known 
only  to  the  mountain  trapper.  As  their  course 
lay  north,  they  had  to  ascend  the  southern  faces 
of  the  heights,  where  the  sun  had  melted  the 
snow,  so  as  to  render  the  ascent  wet  and  slippery, 


and  to  keep  both  men  and  horses  continually  on 
the  strain  ;  while  on  the  northern  sides,  the  snow 
lay  in  such  heavy  masses  that  it  was  necessary  to 
beat  a  track  clown  which  the  horses  might  be 
led.  Every  now  and  then,  also,  their  way  was 
impeded  by  tart  and  numerous  pines,  some  of 
which  had  fallen,  and  lay  in  every  direction. 

In  the  midst  of  these  toils  and  hardships,  their 
provisions  gave  out.  For  three  days  they  were 
without  food,  and  so  reduced  that  they  could 
scarcely  drag  themselves  along.  At  length,  one 
of  the  mules  being  about  to  give  out  from  fatigue 
and  famine,  they  hastened  to  dispatch  him.  Hus- 
banding this  miserable  supply,  they  dried  the 
flesh,  and  for  three  days  subsisted  upon  the  nutri- 
ment extracted  from  the  bones.  As  to  the  meat, 
it  was  packed  and  preserved  as  long  as  they  could 
do  without  it,  not  knowing  how  long  they  might 
remain  bewildered  in  these  desolate  regions. 

One  of  the  men  was  now  dispatched  ahead,  to 
reconnoitre  the  country,  and  to  discover,  if  possi- 
ble, some  more  practicable  route.  In  the  mean- 
time, the  rest  of  the  party  moved  on  slowly.  After 
a  lapse  of  three  days,  the  scout  rejoined  them. 
He  informed  them  that  Snake  River  ran  imme- 
diately below  the  sierra  or  mountainous  ridge 
upon  which  they  were  travelling  ;  that  it  was  free 
from  precipices,  and  was  at  no  great  distance 
from  them  in  a  direct  line*  but  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  them  to  reach  it  without  mak- 
ing a  weary  circuit.  Their  only  course  would 
be  to  cross  the  mountain  ridge  to  the  left. 

Up  this  mountain,  therefore,  the  weary  travel- 
lers directed  their  steps  ;  and  the  ascent,  in  their 
present  weak  and  exhausted  state,  was  one  of  the 
severest  parts  of  this  most  painful  journey.  For 
two  days  were  they  toiling  slowly  from  cliff  to 
cliff,  beating  at  every  step  a  path  through  the 
snow  for  their  faltering  horses.  At  length  they 
reached  the  summit,  where  the  snow  was  blown 
off  ;  but  in  descending  on  the  opposite  side  they 
were  often  plunging  through  deep  drifts  piled  in 
the  hollows  and  ravines. 

Their  provisions  were  now  exhausted,  and  they 
and  their  horses  almost  ready  to  give  out  with 
fatigue  and  hunger  ;  when  one  afternoon,  just  as 
the  sun  was  sinking  behind  a  blue  line  of  distant 
mountain,  they  came  to  the  brow  of  a  height  from 
which  they  beheld  the  smooth  valley  of  the  Im- 
mahah  stretched  out  in  smiling  verdure  below 
them. 

The  sight  inspired  almost  a  frenzy  of  delight. 
Roused  to  new  ardor,  they  forgot  for  a  time  their 
fatigues,  and  hurried  down  the  mountain,  drag- 
ging their  jaded  horses  after  them,  and  some- 
times compelling  them  to  slide  a  distance  of  thirty 
or  forty  leet  at  a  time.  At  length  they  reached 
the  banks  of  the  Immahah.  The  young  grass 
was  just  beginning  to  sprout,  and  the  whole  val- 
ley wore  an  aspect  of  softness,  verdure,  and  re- 
pose, heightened  by  the  contrast  of  the  frightful 
region  from  which  they  had  just  descended.  To 
add  to  their  joy,  they  observed  Indian  trails  along 
the  margin  of  the  stream,  and  other  signs,  which 
gave  them  reason  to  believe  that  there  was  an  en- 
campment of  the  Lower  Nez  Perec's  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, as  it  was  within  the  accustomed  range 
of  that  pacific  and  hospitable  tribe. 

The  prospect  of  a  supply  of  food  stimulated 
them  to  new  exertion,  and  they  continued  on  as 
fast  as  the  enfeebled  state  of  themselves  and  their 
steeds  would  permit.  At  length,  one  of  the  men, 
more  exhausted  than  the  rest,  threw  himself  upon 
the  grass,  and  declared  he  could  go  no  further.  It 
was  in  vain  to  attempt  to  arouse  him  ;  his  spirit 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


333 


had  given  out,  and  his  replies  only  showed  the 
dogged  apathy  of  despair.  His  companions  there- 
fore, encamped  on  the  spot,  kindled  a  blazing  fire, 
and  searched  about  tor  roots  with  which  to 
strengthen  and  revive  him.  They  all  then  made 
a  starveling  repast  ;  but  gathering  round  the  fire, 
talked  over  past  dangers  and  troubles,  soothed 
themselves  with  the  persuasion  that  all  were  now 
at  an  end,  and  went  to  sleep  with  the  comforting 
hope  that  the  morrow  would  bring  them  into 
plentiful  quarters. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

PROGRESS  IN  THE  VALLEY — AN  INDIAN  CAVA- 
LIER— THE  CAPTAIN  FALLS  INTO  A  LETHARGY 
— A  NEZ  PERCE  PATRIARCH  —  HOSPITABLE 
TREATMENT — THE  BALD  HEAD — BARGAINING — 
VALUE  OF  AN  OLD  PLAID  CLOAK — THE  FAMILY 
HORSE — THE  COST  OF  AN  INDIAN  PRESENT. 

A  TRANQUIL  night's  rest  had  sufficiently  re- 
stored the  broken  down  traveller  to  enable  him  to 
resume  his  wayfaring,  and  all  hands  set  forward 
on  the  Indian  trail.  With  all  their  eagerness  to 
arrive  within  reach  of  succor,  such  was  their 
feeble  and  emaciated  condition  that  they  ad- 
vanced but  slowly.  Nor  is  it  a  matter  of  surprise 
that  they  should  almost  have  lost  heart,  as  well 
as  strength.  It  was  now  (the  i6th  of  February) 
fifty-three  days  that  they  had  been  travelling  in 
the  midst  of  winter,  exposed  to  all  kinds  of  priva- 
tions and  hardships  ;  and  for  the  last  twenty 
days  they  had  been  entangled  in  the  wild  and 
desolate  labyrinths  of  the  snowy  mountains  ; 
climbing  and  descending  icy  precipices,  and 
nearly  starved  with  cold  and  hunger. 

All  the  morning  they  continued  following  the 
Indian  trail,  without  seeing  a  human  being,  and 
were  beginning  to  be  discouraged  when,  about 
noon,  they  discovered  a  horseman  at  a  distance. 
He  was  coming  directly  toward  them  ;  but  on  dis- 
covering them,  suddenly  reined  up  his  steed, 
came  to  a  halt,  and,  after  reconnoitring  them 
for  a  time  with  great  earnestness,  seemed  about 
to  make  a  cautious  retreat.  They  eagerly  made 
signs  of  peace,  and  endeavored,  with  the  utmost 
anxiety,  to  induce  him  to  approach.  He  remain- 
ed for  some  time  in  doubt ;  but  at  length,  having 
satisfied  himself  that  they  were  not  enemies,  came 
galloping  up  to  them.  He  was  a  fine,  haughty- 
looking  savage,  fancifully  decorated,  and  mounted 
on  a  high-mettled  steed,  with  gaudy  trappings 
and  equipments.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  a 
warrior  of  some  consequence  among  his  tribe. 
His  whole  deportment  had  something  in  it  of 
barbaric  dignity  ;  he  felt  perhaps  his  temporary 
superiority  in  personal  array,  and  in  the  spirit  of 
his  steed,  to  the  poor,  ragged,  travel-worn  trap- 
pers and  their  half-starved  horses.  Approach- 
ing them  with  an  air  of  protection,  he  gave  them 
his  hand,  and,  in  the  Nez  Perce  language  invited 
them  to  his  camp,  which  was  only  a  few  miles 
distant  ;  where  he  had  plenty  to  eat,  and  plenty 
of  horses,  and  would  cheerfully  share  his  good 
things  with  them. 

His  hospitable  invitation  was  joyfully  accepted  ; 
he  lingered  but  a  moment,  to  give  directions  by 
which  they  might  find  his  camp,  and  then,  wheel- 
ing round,  and  giving  the  reins  to  his  mettlesome 
steed,  was  soon  out  of  sight.  The  travellers  fol- 
lowed, with  gladdened  hearts,  but  at  a  snail's 
pace  ;  for  their  poor  horses  could  scarcely  drag 


one  leg  after  the  other.  Captain  Bonneville, 
however,  experienced  a  sudden  and  singular 
change  of  feeling.  Hitherto,  the  necessity  of 
conducting  his  party,  and  of  providing  against 
every  emergency,  had  kept  his  mind  upon  the 
stretch,  and  his  whole  system  braced  and  excited. 
In  no  one  instance  had  he  flagged  in  spirit  or  felt 
disposed  to  succumb.  Now,  however,  that  all 
danger  was  over,  and  the  march  of  a  few  miles 
would  bring  them  to  repose  and  abundance,  his 
energies  suddenly  deserted  him  ;  and  every  fac- 
ulty, mental  and  physical,  was  totally  relaxed. 
He  had  not  proceeded  two  miles  from  the  point 
where  he  had  had  the  interview  with  the  Nez  Perce" 
chief,  when  he  threw  himself  upon  the  earth,  with- 
out the  power  or  will  to  move  a  muscle,  or  exert 
a  thought,  and  sank  almost  instantly  into  a  pro- 
found and  dreamless  sleep.  His  companions 
again  came  to  a  halt,  and  encamped  beside  him, 
and  there  they  passed  the  night. 

The  next  morning  Captain  Bonneville  awakened 
from  his  long  and  heavy  sleep,  much  refreshed  ; 
and  they  all  resumed  their  creeping  progress. 
They  had  not  long  been  on  the  march  when  eight 
or  ten  of  the  Nez  Perce"  tribe  came  galloping  to 
meet  them,  leading  fresh  horses  to  bear  them  to 
their  camp.  Thus  gallantly  mounted,  they  felt 
new  life  infused  into  their  languid  frames,  and 
dashing  forward,  were  soon  at  the  lodges  of  the 
Nez  Perec's.  Here  they  found  about  twelve  fam- 
ilies living  together,  under  the  patriarchal  sway 
of  an  ancient  and  venerable  chiet.  He  received 
them  with  the  hospitality  of  the  golden  age,  and 
with  something  of  the  same  kind  ot  fare  ;  for, 
while  he  opened  his  arms  to  make  them  welcome, 
the  only  repast  he  set  before  them  consisted  of 
roots.  They  could  have  wished  for  something 
more  hearty  and  substantial  ;  but,  for  want  of  bet- 
ter, made  a  voracious  meal  on  these  humble  vi- 
ands. The  repast  being  over,  the  best  pipe  was 
lighted  and  sent  round  ;  and  this  was  a  most  wel- 
come luxury,  having  lost  their  smoking  apparatus 
twelve'days  before,  among  the  mountains. 

While  they  were  thus  enjoying  themselves,  their 
poor  horses  were  led  to  the  best  pastures  in  the 
neighborhood,  where  they  were  turned  loose  to 
revel  on  the  fresh  sprouting  grass  ;  so  that  they 
had  better  fare  than  their  masters. 

Captain  Bonneville  soon  felt  himself  quite  at 
home  among  these  quiet,  inoffensive  people.  His 
long  residence  among  their  cousins,  the  Upper 
Nez  Perec's,  had  made  him  conversant  with  their 
language,  modes  of  expression,  and  all  their  hab- 
itudes. He  soon  found,  too,  that  he  was  well 
known  among  them,  by  report,  at  least,  from  the 
constant  interchange  of  visits  and  messages  be- 
tween the  two  branches  of  the  tribe.  They  at 
first  addressed  him  by  his  name  ;  giving  him  his 
title  of  captain,  with  a  French  accent  ;  but  they 
soon  gave  Kim  a  title  of  their  own  which,  as 
usual  with  Indian  titles,  had  a  peculiar  significa- 
tion. In  the  case  of  the  captain,  it  had  somewhat 
ot  a. whimsical  origin. 

As  he  sat  chatting  and  smoking  in  the  midst  of 
them,  he  would  occasionally  take  off  his  cap. 
Whenever  he  did  so,  there  was  a  sensation  in  the 
surrounding  circle.  The  Indians  would  half  rise 
from  their  recumbent  posture,  and  gaze  upon  his 
uncovered  head  with  their  usual  exclamation  of 
astonishment.  The  worthy  captain  was  complete- 
ly bald  ;  a  phenomenon  very  surprising  in  their 
eyes.  They  were  at  a  loss  to  know  whether  he 
had  been  scalped  in  battle,  or  enjoyed  a  natural 
immunity  from  that  belligerent  infliction.  In  a 
little  while  he  became  known  among  them  by  an 


33-1 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


Indian  name,  signifying  "the  bald  chief."  "A 
sobriquet,"  observes  the  captain,  "for  which  I 
can  find  no  parallel  in  history  since  the  days  of 
Charles  the  Bald." 

Although  the  travellers  had  banqueted  on  roots, 
and  been  regaled  with  tobacco  smoke,  yet  their 
stomachs  craved  more  generous  fare.  In  ap- 
proaching the  lodges  of  the  Nez  Percys  they  had 
indulged  in  fond  anticipations  of  venison  and 
dried  salmon;  and  dreams  of  the  kind  still  haunted 
their  imaginations,  and  could  not  be  conjured 
clown.  The  keen  appetites  of  mountain  trappers, 
quickened  by  a  fortnight's  fasting,  at  length  got 
the  better  of  all  scruples  of  pride,  and  they  fairly- 
begged  some  fish  or  flesh  from  the  hospitable 
savages.  The  latter,  however,  were  slow  to 
break  in  upon  their  winter  store,  which  was  very 
limited  ;  but  were  ready  to  furnish  roots  in  abun- 
dance, which  they  pronounced  excellent  food.  At 
length,  Captain  Bonneville  thought  of  a  means  of 
attaining  the  much-coveted  gratification. 

He  had  about  him,  he  says,  a  trusty  plaid  ;  an 
old  and  valued  travelling  companion  and  com- 
forter ;  upon  which  the  rains  had  descended,  and 
the  snows  and  winds  beaten,  without  further 
effect  than  somewhat  to  tarnish  its  primitive  lus- 
tre. This  coat,  of  many  colors  had  excited  the 
admiration,  and  inflamed  the  covetousness  of  both 
\varriors  and  squaws  to  an  extravagant  degree. 
An  idea  now  occurred  to  Captain  Bonneville,  to 
convert  this  rainbow  garment  into  the  savory  vi- 
ands so  much  desired.  There  was  a  momentary 
struggle  in  his  mind  between  old  associations 
and  projected  indulgence  ;  and  his  decision  in  fa- 
vor of  the  latter  was  made,  he  says,  with  a  greater 
promptness  perhaps,  than  true  taste  and  sentiment 
might  have  required.  In  a  few  moments  his 
plaid  cloak  was  cut  into  numerous  strips.  "  Of 
these,"  continues  he,  "  with  the  newly  developed 
talent  of  a  man-milliner,  I  speedily  constructed 
turbans  a  la  Titrque,  and  fanciful  head-gears  of 
divers  conformations.  These,  judiciously  distrib- 
uted among  such  of  the  womenkind  as  seemed  of 
most  consequence  and  interest  in  the  eyes  of  the 
patres  conscripti,  brought  us,  in  a  little  while, 
abundance  of  dried  salmon  and  deers'  hearts,  on 
which  we  made  a  sumptuous  supper.  Another, 
and  a  more  satisfactory  smoke,  succeeded  this  re- 
past, and  sweet  slumbers  answering  the  peaceful 
invocation  of  our  pipes,  wrapped  us  in  that  de- 
licious rest  which  is  only  won  by  toil  and  tra- 
vail." 

As  to  Captain  Bonneville,  he  slept  in  the  lodge 
of  the  venerable  patriarch,  who  had  evidently 
conceived  a  most  disinterested  affection  for  him  ; 
as  was  shown  on  the  following  morning.  The 
travellers,  invigorated  by  a  good  supper,  and 
"  fresh  from  the  bath  of  repose,"  were  about  to 
resume  their  journey,  when  this  affectionate  old 
chief  took  the  captain  aside,  to  let  him  know  how 
much  he  loved  him.  As  a  proof  of  his  regard,  he 
had  determined  to  give  him  a  fine  horse,  which 
would  go  farther  than  words,  and  put  his  good- 
will beyond  all  question.  So  saying,  he  made  a 
signal,  and  forthwith  a  beautiful  young  horse,  of 
a  Drown  color,  was  led,  prancing  and  snorting, 
to  the  place.  Captain  Bonneville  was  suitably 
affected  by  this  mark  of  friendship  ;  but  his  ex- 
perience in  what  is  proverbially  called  "  Indian 
giving,"  made  him  aware  that  a  parting  pledge 
was  necessary  on  his  own  part,  to  prove  that  his 
friendship  was  reciprocated.  He  accordingly 
placed  a  handsome  rifle  in  the  hands  of  the  ven- 
erable chief,  whose  benevolent  heart  was  evi- 


dently touched  and  gratified  by  this  outward  and 
visible  sign  of  amity. 

Having  now,  as  he  thought,  balanced  this  little 
account  of  friendship,  the  captain  was  about  to 
shift  his  saddle  to  this  noble  gift-horse,  when  the 
affectionate  patriarch  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve, 
and  introduced  to  him  a  whimpering,  whining, 
leathern-skinned  old  squaw,  that  might  have 
passed  for  an  Egyptian  mummy  without  caving. 
"  This,"  said  he,  "  is  my  wife  ;  she  is  a  good 
wife — I  love  her  very  much. — She  loves  the 
horse — she  loves  him  a  great  deal — she  will  cry 
very  much  at  losing  him.  —I  do  not  know  how  I 
shall  comfort  her — and  that  makes  my  heart  very 
sore." 

What  could  the  worthy  captain  do  to  console 
the  tender-hearted  old  squaw  and,  peradventure, 
to  save  the  venerable  patriarch  from  a  curtain  lec- 
ture ?  He  bethought  himself  of  a  pair  of  ear- 
bobs  ;  it  was  true,  the  patriarch's  better  half  was 
of  an  age  and  appearance  that  seemed  to  put  per- 
sonal vanity  out  of  the  question,  but  when  is  per- 
sonal vanity  extinct  ?  The  moment  he  produced 
the  glittering  ear-bobs,  the  whimpering  and 
whining  of  the  sempiternal  beldame  was  at  an 
end.  She  eagerly  placed  the  precious  baubles  in 
her  ears,  and,  though  as  ugly  as  the  Witch  of 
Endor,  went  off  with  a  sideling  gait,  and  coquet- 
tish air,  as  though  she  had  been  a  perfect  Semir- 
amis. 

The  captain  had  now  saddled  his  newly  ac- 
quired steed,  and  his  foot  was  in  the  stirrup,  when 
the  affectionate  patriarch  again  stepped  forward, 
and  presented  to  him  a  young  Pierced-nose,  who 
had  a  peculiarly  sulky  look.  "  This,"  said  the 
venerable  chief,  "  is  my  son  ;  he  is  very  good  ;  a 
great  horseman — he  always  took  care  of  this  very 
fine  horse — he  brought  him  up  from  a  colt,  and 
made  him  what  he  is.  He  is  very  fond  of  this  fine 
horse — he  loves  him  like  a  brother — his  heart  will 
be  very  heavy  when  this  fine  horse  leaves  the 
camp.' ' 

What  could  the  captain  do,  to  reward  the 
youthful  hope  of  this  venerable  pair,  and  comfort 
him  for  the  loss  of  his  foster-brother,  the  horse  ? 
He  bethought  him  of  a  hatchet,  which  might  be 
spared  from  his  slender  stores.  No  sooner  did  he 
place  the  instrument  into  the  hands  of  the  young 
hopeful,  than  his  countenance  brightened  up,  and 
he  went  off  rejoicing  in  his  hatchet  to  the  full  as 
much  as  did  his  respectable  mother  in  her  ear- 
bobs. 

The  captain  was  now  in  the  saddle,  and  about 
to  start,  when  the  affectionate  old  patriarch  step- 
ped forward  for  the  third  time,  and,  while  he  laid 
one  hand  gently  on  the  mane  of  the  horse,  held 
up  the  rifle  in  the  other.  "  This  rifle,"  said  he, 
"  shall  be  my  great  medicine.  I  will  hug  it  to  my 
heart — I  will  always  love  it,  for  the  sake  of  my 
good  friend,  the  bald-headed  chief.  But  a  rifle, 
by  itself,  is  dumb — I  cannot  make  it  speak.  If  I 
had  a  little  powder  and  ball,  I  would  take  it  out 
with  me,  and  would  now  and  then  shoot  a  deer  ; 
and  when  I  brought  the  meat  home  to  my  hungry 
farr.ily,  I  would  say — This  was  killed  by  the  rifle 
of  my  friend,  the  bald-headed  chief,  to  whom  I 
gave  that  very  fine  horse." 

There  was  no  resisting  this  appeal  ;  the  captain 
forthwith  furnished  the  coveted  supply  of  powder 
and  ball  ;  but  at  the  same  time  put  spurs  to  his 
very  fine  gift-horse,  and  the  first  trial  of  his  speed 
was  to  get  out  of  all  further  manifestation  of 
friendship  on  the  part  of  the  affectionate  old  pa- 
triarch and  his  insinuating  family. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


335 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

NEZ  PERCE  CAMP — A  CHIEF  WITH  A  HARD  NAME 
— THE  BIG  HEARTS  OF  THE  EAST — HOSPITABLE 
TREATMENT — THE  INDIAN  GUIDES — MYSTERI- 
OUS COUNCILS — THE  LOQUACIOUS  CHIEF— IN- 
DIAN TOMB — GRAND  INDIAN  RECEPTION — AN 
INDIAN  FEAST — TOWN-CRIERS — HONESTY  OF 
THE  NEZ  PERCES — THE  CAPTAIN'S  ATTEMPT  AT 
HEALING. 

FOLLOWING  the  course  of  the  Immahah,  Captain 
Bonneville  and  his  three  companions  soon  reach- 
ed the  vicinity  of  Snake  River.  Their  route  now 
lay  over  a  succession  of  steep  and  isolated  hills, 
with  profound  valleys.  On  the  second  day  after 
taking-  leave  of  the  affectionate  old  patriarch,  as 
they  were  descending  into  one  of  those  deep  and 
abrupt  intervals,  they  descried  a  smoke,  and 
shortly  afterward  came  in  sight  of  a  small  en- 
campment of  Nez  Percys. 

The  Indians,  when  they  ascertained  that  it  was 
a  party  of  white  men  approaching,  greeted  them 
with  a  salute  of  firearms,  and  invited  them  to  en- 
camp. This  band  was  likewise  under  the  sway 
of  a  venerable  chief  named  Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut  ; 
a  name  which  we  shall  be  careful  not  to  inflict 
oftener  than  is  necessary  upon  the  reader.  This 
ancient  and  hard-named  chieftain  welcomed  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  to  his  camp  with  the  same  hospi- 
tality and  loving  kindness  that  he  had  experienced 
from  his  predecessor.  He  told  the  captain  he  had 
often  heard  of  the  Americans  and  their  generous 
deeds,  and  that  his  buffalo  brethren  (the  Upper  Nez 
Perec's)  had  always  spoken  of  them  as  the  Big- 
hearted  whites  of  the  East,  the  very  good  friends 
of  the  Nez  Perec's. 

Captain  Bonneville  lelt  somewhat  uneasy  under 
the  responsibility  of  this  magnanimous  but  costly 
appellation  ;  and  began  to  fear  he  might  be  in- 
volved in  a  second  interchange  of  pledges  of 
friendship.  He  hastened,  therefore,  to  let  the  old 
chief  know  his  poverty-stricken  state,  and  how 
little  there  was  to  be  expected  from  him. 

He  informed  him  that  he  and  his  comrades  had 
long  resided  among  the  Upper  Nez  Perec's,  and 
loved  them  so  much,  that  they  had  thrown  their 
arms  around  them,  and  now  held  them  close  to 
their  hearts.  That  he  had  received  such  good  ac- 
counts from  the  Upper  Nez  Perec's  of  their  cous- 
ins, the  Lower  Nez  Perec's,  that  he  had  become 
desirous  of  knowing  them  as  friends  and  broth- 
ers. That  he  and  his  companions  had  accord- 
ingly loaded  a  mule  with  presents  and  set  off  for 
the  country  of  the  Lower  Nez  Perces  ;  but,  unfor- 
tunately, had  been  entrapped  for  many  days 
among  the  snowy  mountains  ;  and  that  the  mule 
with  all  the  presents  had  fallen  into  Snake 
River,  and  been  swept  away  by  the  rapid  current. 
That  instead,  therefore  of  arriving  among  their 
friends,  the  Nez  Perces,  with  light  hearts  and  full 
hands,  they  came  naked,  hungry,  and  broken 
down  ;  and  instead  of  making  them  presents, 
must  depend  upon  them  even  for  food.  "  But," 
concluded  he,  "  we  are  going  to  the  white  men's 
fort  on  the  Wallah  Wallah,  and  will  soon  return  ; 
and  then  we  will  meet  our  Nez  Perec  friends  like 
the  true  Big  Hearts  of  the  East." 

Whether  the  hint  thrown  out  in  the  latter  part 
of  the  speech  had  any  effect,  or  whether  the  old 
chief  acted  from  the  hospitable  feelings  which, 
according  to  the  captain,  are  really  inherent  in 
the  Nez  Perec"  tribe,  he  certainly  showed  no  dis- 
position to  relax  his  friendship  on  learning  the 
destitute  circumstances  of.  his  guests.  On  the 


contrary,  he  urged  the  captain  to  remain  with 
them  until  the  following  day,  when  he  would  ac- 
company him  on  his  journey,  and  make  him  ac- 
quainted with  all  his  people,  in  the  meantime 
he  would  have  a  colt  killed,  and  cut  up  for  trav- 
elling provisions.  This,  he  carefully  explained, 
was  intended  not  as  an  article  of  traffic,  but  as  a 
gift ;  for  he  saw  that  his  guests  were  hungry  and 
in  need  of  food. 

Captain  Bonneville  gladly  assented  to  this  hos- 
pitable arrangement.  The  carcass  of  the  colt 
was  forthcoming  in  due  season,  but  the  captain 
insisted  that  one  half  of  it  should  be  set  apart 
tor  the  use  of  the  chieftain's  family. 

At  an  early  hour  of  the  following  morning  the 
little  party  resumed  their  journey,  accompanied 
by  the  old  chief  and  an  Indian  guide.  Their 
route  was  over  a  rugged  and  broken  country  ; 
where  the  hills  were  slippery  with  ice  and  snow. 
Their  horses,  too,  were  so  weak  and  jaded  that 
they  could  scarcely  climb  the  steep  ascents  or 
maintain  their  foothold  on  the  frozen  declivities. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  the  journey,  the  old 
chief  and  the  guide  were  unremitting  in  their  good 
offices,  and  continually  on  the  alert  to  select  the 
best  roads,  and  assist  them  througli  all  difficulties. 
Indeed  the  captain  and  his  comrades  had  to  be 
dependent  on  their  Indian  friends  for  almost  every- 
thing, for  they  had  lost  their  tobacco  and  pipes, 
those  great  comforts  of  the  trapper,  and  had  but  a 
few  charges  of  powder  lelt,  which  it  was  necessary 
to  husband  for  the  purpose  of  lighting  their  fires. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  the  old  chief  had  sev- 
eral private  consultations  with  the  guide,  and 
showed  evident  signs  of  being  occupied  with 
some  mysterious  matter  of  mighty  import.  What 
it  was,  Captain  Bonneville  could  not  fathom,  nor 
did  he  make  much  effort  to  do  so.  From  some 
casual  sentences  that  he  overheard,  he  perceived 
that  it  was  something  from  which  the  old  man 
promised  himself  much  satisfaction,  and  to  which 
he  attached  a  little  vainglory,  but  which  he  wish- 
ed to  keep  a  secret  ;  so  he  suffered  him  to  spin 
out  his  petty  plans  unmolested. 

In  the  evening  when  they  encamped,  the  old 
chief  and  his  privy  counsellor,  the  guide,  had 
another  mysterious  colloquy,  after  which  the 
guide  mounted  his  horse  and  departed  on  some 
secret  mission,  while  the  chief  resumed  his  seat 
at  the  fire,  and  sat  humming  to  himself  in  a  pleas- 
ing but  mystic  reverie. 

The  next  morning,  the  travellers  descended 
into  the  valley  of  the  Way-lee-way,  a  considera- 
ble tributary  of  Snake  River.  Here  they  met  the 
guide  returing  from  his  secret  errand.  Another 
private  conference  was  held  between  him  and  the 
old  managing  chief,  who  now  seemed  more  in- 
flated than  ever  with  mystery  and  self-importance. 
Numerous  fresh  trails,  and  various  other  signs 
persuaded  Captain  Bonneville  that  there  must  be 
a  considerable  village  of  Nez  Perces  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ;  but  as  his  worthy  companion,  the  old 
chief,  said  nothing  on  the  subject,  and  as  it  ap- 
peared to  be  in  some  way  connected  with  his  se- 
cret operations,  he  asked  no  questions,  but  pa- 
tiently awaited  the  development  of  his  mystery. 

As  they  journneyed  on  they  came  to  where  two 
or  three  Indians  were  bathing  in  a  small  stream. 
The  good  old  chief  immediately  came  to  a  halt, 
and  had  a  long  conversation  with  them,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  repeated  to  them  the  whole 
history  which  Captain  Bonneville  had  related  to 
him.  In  fact,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  very  so- 
ciable, communicative  old  man  ;  by  no  means 
afflicted  with  that  taciturnity  generally  charged 


336 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


upon  the  Indians.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  fond 
of  long  talks  and  long  smokings,  and  evidently 
was  proud  of  his  new  friend,  the  bald-headed 
chief,  and  took  a  pleasure  in  sounding  his 
praises,  and  setting  forth  the  power  and  glory  of 
the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East. 

Having  disburdened  himself  of  everything  he 
had  to  relate  to  his  bathing  friends,  he  left  them 
to  their  aquatic  disports,  and  proceeded  onward 
with  the  captain  and  his  companions.  As  they 
approached  the  Way-lee-way,  however,  the  com- 
municative old  chief  met  with  another  and  a  very 
different  occasion  to  exert  his  colloquial  powers. 
On  the  banks  of  the  river  stood  an  isolated  mound 
covered  with  grass.  He  pointed  to  it  with  some 
emotion.  "  The  big  heart  and  the  strong  arm," 
said  he,  "  lie  buried  beneath  that  sod." 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  grave  of  one  ot  his  friends  ; 
a  chosen  warrior  of  the  tribe  ;  who  had  been 
slain  on  this  spot  when  in  pursuit  of  a  war  party 
of  Shoshokoes,  who  had  stolen  the  horses  of  the 
village.  The  enemy  bore  off  his  scalp  as 
a  trophy  ;  but  his  friends  found  his  body  in  this 
lonely  place,  and  committed  it  to  the  earth  with 
ceremonials  characteristic  of  their  pious  and  rev- 
erential feelings.  They  gathered  round  the  grave 
and  mourned  ;  the  warriors  were  silent  in  their 
grief  ;  but  the  women  and  children  bewailed  their 
loss  with  loud  lamentations.  "  For  three  days," 
said  the  old  man,  "  we  performed  the  solemn 
dances  for  the  dead,  and  prayed  the  Great  Spirit 
that  our  brother  might  be  happy  in  the  land  of 
brave  warriors  and  hunters.  Then  we  killed  at 
his  grave  fifteen  of  our  best  and  strongest  horses, 
to  serve  him  when  he  should  arrive  at  the  happy- 
hunting  grounds  ;  and  having  done  all  this,  we 
returned  sorrowfully  to  our  homes." 

While  the  chief  was  still  talking  an  Indian 
scout  came  galloping  up  and,  presenting  him 
with  a  powder  horn,  wheeled  round,  and  was 
speedily  out  of  sight.  The  eyes  of  the  old  chief 
now  brightened  ;  and  all  his  self-importance  re- 
turned. His  petty  mystery  was  about  to  explode. 
Turning  to  Captain  Bonneville,  he  pointed  to  a 
hill  hard  by,  and  informed  him  that  behind  it  was 
a  village  governed  by  a  little  chief,  whom  he  had 
notified  of  the  approach  of  the  bald-headed  chief, 
and  a  party  ot  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East,  and 
that  he  was  prepared  to  receive  them  in  becoming 
style.  As,  among  other  ceremonials,  he  intended 
to  salute  them  with  a  discharge  of  firearms,  he 
had  sent  the  horn  of  gunpowder  that  they  might 
return  the  salute  in  a  manner  correspondent  to 
his  dignity. 

They  now  proceeded  on  until  they  doubled  the 
point  of  the  hill,  when  the  whole  population  of  the 
village  broke  upon  their  view,  drawn  out  in  the 
most  imposing  style,  and  arrayed  in  all  their 
finery.  The  effect  of  the  whole  was  wild  and 
fantastic,  yet  singularly  striking.  In  the  front 
rank  were  the  chiefs  and  principal  warriors, 
glaringly  painted  and  decorated  ;  behind  them 
were  arranged  the  rest  ot  the  people,  men,  women, 
and  children. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  party  advanced 
slowly,  exchanging  salutes  of  firearms.  When 
arrived  within  a  respectful  distance  they  dis- 
mounted. The  chiefs  then  came  forward  succes- 
sively, according  to  their  respective  characters 
and  consequence  to  offer  the  hand  of  good-fellow- 
ship ;  each  filing  off  when  he  had  shaken  hands, 
to  make  way  for  his  successor.  Those  in  the 
next  rank  followed  in  the  same  order,  and  so  on, 
until  all  had  given  the  pledge  of  triendship.  Dur- 
ing all  this  time,  the  chief,  according  to  custom, 


took  his  stand  beside  the  guests.  If  any  of  his 
people  advanced  whom  he  judged  unworthy  of 
the  triendship  or  confidence  of  the  white  men,  he 
motioned  them  off  by  a  wave  of  the  hand,  and 
they  would  submissively  walk  away.  When  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  turned  upon  him  an  inquiring 
look,  he  would  observe,  "  he  was  a  bad  man,"  or 
something  quite  as  concise,  and  there  was  an  end 
of  the  matter. 

Mats,  poles,  and  other  materials  were  now 
brought,  and  a  comfortable  lodge  was  soon  erect- 
ed for  the  strangers,  where  they  were  kept  con- 
stantly supplied  with  wood  and  water,  and  other 
necessaries  ;  and  all  their  effects  were  placed  in 
safe  keeping.  Their  horses,  too,  were  unsaddled, 
and  turned  loose  to  graze  and  a  guard  set  to  keep 
watch  upon  them. 

All  this  being  adjusted  they  were  conducted  to 
the  main  building  or  council  house  of  the  village, 
where  an  ample  repast,  or  rather  banquet,  was 
spread,  which  seemed  to  realize  all  the  gastro- 
nomical  dreams  that  had  tantalized  them  during 
their  long  starvation  ;  for  here  they  beheld  not 
merely  fish  and  roots  in  abundance,  but  the  flesh 
of  deer  and  elk,  and  the  choicest  pieces  of  buffalo 
meat.  It  is  needless  to  say  how  vigorously  they 
acquitted  themselves  on  this  occasion,  and  how 
unnecessary  it  was  for  their  hosts  to  practise  the 
usual  cramming  principle  of  Indian  hospitality. 

When  the  repast  was  over  a  long  talk  ensued. 
The  chief  showed  the  same  curiosity  evinced  by 
his  tribe  generally,  to  obtain  information  con- 
cerning the  United  States,  of  which  they  knew 
Ititle  but  what  they  derived  through  their  cousins, 
the  Upper  Nez  Perec's  ;  as  their  traffic  is  almost 
exclusively  with  the  British  traders  of  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company.  Captain  Bonneville  did  his 
best  to  set  forth  the  merits  of  his  nation,  and  the 
importance  of  their  friendship  to  the  red  men,  in 
which  he  was  ably  seconded  by  his  worthy  friend, 
the  old  chief  with  the  hard  name,  who  did  all 
that  he  could  to  glorify  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East. 

The  chief  and  all  present  listened  with  profound 
attention,  and  evidently  with  great  interest  ;  nor 
were  the  important  facts  thus  set  forth  confined  to 
the  audience  in  the  lodge  ;  for  sentence  after  sen- 
tence was  loudly  repeated  by  a  crier  for  the  ben- 
efit of  the  whole  village. 

This  custom  of  promulgating  everything  by 
criers  is  not  confined  to  the  Nez  Perec's,  but  pre- 
vails among  many  other  tribes.  It  has  its  advant- 
age where  there  are  no  gazettes  to  publish  the 
news  of  the  day,  or  to  report  the  proceedings  of 
important  meetings.  And  in  fact,  reports  ot  this 
kind,  viva  voce,  made  in  the  hearing  of  all  parties, 
and  liable  to  be  contradicted  or  corrected  on  the 
spot,  are  more  likely  to  convey  accurate  informa- 
tion to  the  public  mind  than  those  circulated 
through  the  press.  The  office  of  crier  is  generally 
filled  by  some  old  man,  who  is  good  for  little  else. 
A  village  has  generally  several  of  these  walking 
newspapers,  as  they  are  termed  by  the  whites, 
who  go  about  proclaiming  the  news  of  the  day, 
giving  notice  of  public  councils,  expeditions, 
dances,  feasts,  and  other  ceremonials,  and  adver- 
tising anything  lost.  While  Captain  Bonneville 
remained  among  the  Nez  Perec's,  if  a  glove,  hand- 
kerchief, or  anything  of  similar  value,  was  lost  or 
mislaid,  it  was  carried  by  the  finder  to  the  lodge 
of  the  chief,  and  proclamation  was  made  by  one 
of  their  criers,  for  the  owner  to  come  and  claim  his 
property. 

How  difficult  it  is  to  get  at  the  true  character 
of  these  wandering  tribes  of  the  wilderness  !  In 
a  recent  work,  we  have  had  to  speak  of  this  tribe 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


337 


of  Indians  from  the  experience  of  other  traders 
who  had  casually  been  among  them,  and  who  rep- 
resented them  as  selfish,  inhospitable,  exorbitant 
in  their  dealings  and  much  addicted  to  thieving.* 
Captain  Bonneville,  on  the  contrary,  who  resided 
much  among  them,  and  had  repeated  opportuni- 
ties of  ascertaining  their  real  character,  invariably 
speaks  of  them  as  kind  and  hospitable,  scrupu- 
lously honest,  and  remarkable  above  all  other 
Indians  that  he  had  met  with  for  a  strong  feeling 
of  religion.  In  fact,  so  enthusiastic  is  he  in  their 
praise,  that  he  pronounces  them,  all  ignorant  and 
barbarous  as  they  are  by  their  condition,  one  of 
the  purest-hearted  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Some  cures  which  Captain  Bonneville  had  effect- 
ed in  simple  cases,  among  the  Upper  Nez  Perec's, 
had  reached  the  ears  of  their  cousins  here,  and 
gained  for  him  the  reputation  of  a  great  medicine 
man.  He  had  not  been  long  in  the  village,  there- 
fore, before  his  lodge  began  to  be  the  resort  of 
the  sick  and  the  infirm.  They  captain  felt  the 
value  of  the  reputation  thus  accidentally  and 
cheaply  acquired,  and  endeavored  to  sustain  it. 
As  he  had  arrived  at  that  age  when  every  man  is, 
experimentally,  something  of  a  physician,  he  was 
enabled  to  turn  to  advantage  the  little  knowledge 
in  the  healing  art  which  he  had  casually  picked 
up  ;  and  was  sufficiently  successful  in  two  or 
three  cases,  to  convince  the  simple  Indians  that 
report  had  not  exaggerated  his  medical  talents. 
The  only  patient  that  effectually  baffled  his  skill, 
or  rather  discouraged  any  attempt  at  relief,  was 
an  antiquated  squaw  with  a  churchyard  cough, 
and  one  leg  in  the  grave  ;  it  being  shrunk  and 
rendered  useless  by  a  rheumatic  affection.  This 
was  a  case  beyond  his  mark  ;  however,  he  com- 
forted the  old  woman  with  a  promise  that  he 
would  endeavor  to  procure  something  to  relieve 
her,  at  the  fort  on  the  Wallah  Wallah,  and  would 
bring  it  on  his  return  ;  with  which  assurance  her 
husband  was  so  well  satisfied  that  he  presented 
the  captain  with  a  colt,  to  be  killed  as  provisions 
for  the  journey  ;  a  medical  fee  which  was  thank- 
fully accepted. 

While  among  these  Indians  Captain  Bonneville 
unexpectedly  found  an  owner  for  the  horse  which 
he  had  purchased  from  a  Root  Digger  at  the  Big 
Wyer.  The  Indian  satisfactorily  proved  that  the 
horse  had  been  stolen  from  him  some  time  pre- 
vious, by  some  unknown  thief.  "  However," 
said  the  considerate  savage,  "  you  got  him  in  fair 
trade — you  are  more  in  want  of  horses  than  I 
am  ;  keep  him  ;  he  is  yours — he  is  a  good  horse  ; 
use  him  well." 

Thus,  in  the  continual  experience  of  acts  of 
kindness  and  generosity,  which  his  destitute  con- 
dition did  not  allow  him  to  reciprocate,  Captain 
Bonneville  passed  some  short  time  among  these 
good  people,  more  and  more  impressed  with  the 
general  excellence  of  their  character. 


CHAPTER   XXXIII. 

SCENERY  OF  THE  WAY-LEE-WAY — A  SUBSTITUTE 
FOR  TOBACCO — SUBLIME  SCENERY  OF  SNAKE 
RIVER — THE  GARRULOUS  OLD  CHIEF  AND  HIS 
COUSIN — A  NEZ  PERCE  MEETING — A  STOLEN 
SKIN  —  THE  SCAPEGOAT  DOG  —  MYSTERIOUS 
CONFERENCES — THE  LITTLE  CHIEF  — HIS  HOS- 
PITALITY— THE  CAPTAIN'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE 

UNITED   STATES — HIS    HEALING   SKILL. 

IN  resuming  his   journey,   Captain   Bonneville 
was   conducted    by   the    same  Nez  Perc£   guide, 

*  Vide  Astoria,  chap.  lii. 


whose  knowledge  of  the  country  was  important  in 
choosing  the  routes  and  resting-places.  He  also 
continued  to  be  accompanied  by  the  worthy  old 
chief  with  the  hard  name,  who  seemed  bent  upon 
doing  the  honors  of  the  country,  and  introducing 
him  to  every  branch  of  his  tribe.  The  Way-lee 
way,  down  the  banks  of  which  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  companions  were  now  travelling,  is  a  con- 
siderable stream  winding  through  a  succession  of 
bold  and  beautiful  scenes.  Sometimes  the  land- 
scape towered  into  bold  and  mountainous  heights 
that  partook  of  sublimity  ;  at  other  times  it 
stretched  along  the  water  side  in  fresh  smiling 
meadows  and  grateful  undulating  valleys. 

Frequently  in  their  route  they  encountered  small 
parties  of  the  Nez  Perec's,  with  whom  they  invari- 
ably stopped  to  shake  hands  ;  and  who,  generally, 
evinced  great  curiosity  concerning  them  and  their 
adventures  ;  a  curiosity  which  never  failed  to  be 
thoroughly  satisfied  by  the  replies  of  the  worthy 
Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut,  who  kindly  took  upon  himself 
to  be  spokesman  of  the  party. 

The  incessant  smoking  of  pipes  incident  to  the 
long  talks  of  this  excellent,  but  somewhat  garru- 
lous old  chief,  at  length  exhausted  all  his  stock  of 
tobacco,  so  that  he  had  no  longer  a  whiff  with 
which  to  regale  his  white  companions.  In  this 
emergency  he  cut  up  the  stem  of  his  pipe  into  fine 
shavings,  which  he  mixed  with  certain  herbs,  and 
thus  manufactured  a  temporary  succedaneum  to 
enable  him  to  accompany  his  long  colloquies  and 
harangues  with  the  customary  fragrant  cloud. 

If  the  scenery  of  the  Way-lee-way  had  charmed 
the  travellers  with  its  mingled  amenity  and  gran- 
deur, that  which  broke  upon  them  on  once  more 
reaching  Snake  River,  filled  them  with  admiration 
and  astonishment.  At  times,  the  river  was  over- 
hung by  dark  and  stupendous  rocks,  rising  like 
gigantic  walls  and  battlements  ;  these  would  be 
rent  by  wide  and  yawning  chasms,  that  seemed 
to  speak  of  past  convulsions  of  nature.  Sometimes 
the  river  was  of  a  glassy  smoothness  and  placidity, 
at  other  times  it  roared  along  in  impetuous  rapids 
and  foaming  cascades.  Here,  the  rocks  were 
piled  in  the  most  fantastic  crags  and  precipices  ; 
and  in  another  place  they  were  succeeded  by  de- 
lightful valleys  carpeted  with  greensward.  The 
whole  of  this  wild  and  varied  scenery  was  domi- 
nated by  immense  mountains  rearing  their  distant 
peaks  into  the  clouds.  "  The  grandeur  and 
originality  of  the  views  presented  on  every  side," 
says  Captain  Bonneville,  "  beggar  both  the  pencil 
and  the  pen.  Nothing  we  had  ever  gazed  upon  in 
any  other  region  could  for  a  moment  compare  in 
wild  majesty  and  impressive  sternness  with  the 
series  of  scenes  which  here  at  every  turn  aston- 
ished our  senses  and  filled  us  with  awe  and  cle- 
light." 

Indeed,  from  all  that  we  can  gather  from  the 
journal  before  us,  and  the  accounts  of  other 
travellers,  who  passed  through  these  regions  in 
the  memorable  enterprise  of  Astoria,  we  are  in- 
clined to  think  that  Snake  River  must  be  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  for  varied  and  striking 
scenery  of  all  the  rivers  of  this  continent.  From 
its  head-waters  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  to  its 
junction  with  the  Columbia,  its  windings  are  up- 
ward of  six  hundred  miles  through  every  variety 
of  landscape.  Rising  in  a  volcanic  region,  amid 
extinguished  craters,  and  mountains  awful  with 
the  traces  of  ancient  fires,  it  makes  its  way 
through  great  plains  of  lava  and  sandy  deserts, 
penetrates  vast  sierras  or  mountainous  chains, 
broken  into  romantic  and  often  frightful  preci- 
pices, and  crowned  with  eternal  snows  ;  and  at 


338 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


other  times  careers  through  green  and  smiling 
meadows  and  wide  landscapes  of  Italian  grace 
and  beauty.  Wildness  and  sublimity,  however, 
appear  to  be  its  prevailing  characteristics. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions  had 
pursued  their  journey  a  considerable  distance 
down  the  course  of  Snake  River,  when  the  old 
chief  halted  on  the  bank,  and  dismounting,  recom- 
mended that  they  should  turn  their  horses  loose  to 
graze,  while  he  summoned  a  cousin  of  his  from  a 
group  of  lodges  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream. 
His  summons  was  quickly  answered.  An  Indian, 
of  an  active,  elastic  form,  leaped  into  alight  canoe 
of  cotton-wood,  and  vigorously  plying  the  paddle, 
soon  shot  across  the  river.  Bounding  on  shore, 
he  advanced  with  a  buoyant  air  and  frank  de- 
meanor, and  gave  his  right  hand  to  each  of  the 
party  in  turn.  The  old  chief,  whose  hard  name 
we  forbear  to  repeat,  now  presented  Captain 
Bonneville,  in  form,  to  his  cousin,  whose  name, 
we  regret  to  say,  was  no  less  hard,  being  noth- 
ing less  than  Hay-she-in-cow-cow.  The  latter 
evinced  the  usual  curiosity  to  know  all  about  the 
strangers,  whence  they  came,  whither  they  were 
going,  the  object  of  their  journey,  and  the  adven- 
tures they  had  experienced.  All  these,  of  course, 
were  amply  and  eloquently  set  forth  by  the  com- 
municative old  chief.  To  all  his  grandiloquent 
account  of  the  bald-headed  chief  and  his  country- 
men, the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East,  his  cousin 
listened  with  great  attention,  and  replied  in  the 
customary  style  of  Indian  welcome.  He  then  de- 
sired the  party  to  await  his  return,  and,  springing 
into  his  canoe,  darted  across  the  river.  In  a  little 
while  he  returned,  bringing  a  most  welcome  sup- 
ply of  tobacco,  and  a  small  stock  of  provisions  for 
the  road,  declaring  his  intention  of  accompanying 
the  party.  Having  no  horse,  he  mounted  behind 
one  of  the  men,  observing  that  he  should  procure 
a  steed  for  himself  on  the  following  day. 

They  all  now  jogged  on  very  sociably  and 
cheerily  together.  Not  many  miles  beyond,  they 
met  others  of  the  tribe,  among  whom  was  one 
whom  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  comrades  had 
known  during  their  residence  among  the  Upper 
Nez  Perces,  and  who  welcomed  them  with  open 
arms.  In  this  neighborhood  was  the  home  of 
their  guide,  who  took  leave  of  them  with  a  profu- 
sion of  good  wishes  for  their  safety  and  happiness. 
That  night  they  put  up  in  the  hut  of  a  Nez  Perce", 
where  they  were  visited  by  several  warriors  from 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  friendb  of  the  old  chief 
and  his  cousin,  who  came  to  have  a  talk  and  a 
smoke  with  the  white  men.  The  heart  ol  the  good 
old  chief  was  overflowing  with  good-will  at  thus 
being  surrounded  by  his  new  and  old  friends,  and 
he  talked  with  more  spirit  and  vivacity  than  ever. 
The  evening  passed  away  in  perfect  harmony  and 
good-humor,  and  it  was  not  until  a  late  hour  that 
the  visitors  took  their  leave  and  recrossed  the 
river. 

After  this  constant  picture  of  worth  and  virtue 
on  the  part  of  the  Nez  Perce  tribe,  we  grieve  to 
have  to  record  a  circumstance  calculated  to  throw 
a  temporary  shade  upon  the  name.  In  the  course 
of  the  social  and  harmonious  evening  just  men- 
tioned, one  of  the  captain's  men,  who  happened 
to  be  something  of  a  virtuoso  in  his  way,  and  fond 
of  collecting  curiosities,  produce:!  a  small  skin,  a 
great  rarity  in  the  eyes  of  men  conversant  in  pel- 
tries. It  attracted  much  attention  among  the 
visitors  from  beyond  the  river,  who  passed  it 
from  one  to  the  other,  examined  it  with  looks  of 
lively  admiration,  and  pronounced  it  a  great  me- 
dicine. 


In  the  morning,  when  the  captain  and  his  party 
were  about  to  set  off,  the  precious  skin  was 
missing.  Search  was  made  for  it  in  the  hut, 
but  it  was  nowhere  to  be  found  ;  and  it  was 
strongly  suspected  that  it  had  been  purloined  by 
some  of  the  connoisseurs  from  the  other  side  of 
the  river. 

The  old  chief  and  his  cousin  were  indignant  at 
the  supposed  delinquency  of  their  friends  across 
the  water,  and  called  out  for  them  to  come  over 
and  answer  for  their  shameful  conduct.  The 
others  answered  to  the  call  with  all  the  prompti- 
tude of  perfect  innocence,  and  spurned  at  the  idea 
of  their  being  capable  of  such  outrage  upon  any 
of  the  Big-hearted  nation.  All  were  at  a  loss  on 
whom  to  fix  the  crime  of  abstracting  the  invalua- 
ble skin,  when  by  chance  the  eyes  of  the  worthies 
from  beyond  the  water  fell  upon  an  unhappy  cur, 
belonging  to  the  owner  of  the  hut.  He  was  a 
gallows-looking  dog,  but  not  more  so  than  most 
Indian  dogs  who,  take  them  in  the  mass,  are  lit- 
tle better  than  a  generation  of  vipers.  Be  that  as 
it  may,  he  was  instantly  accused  of  having  de- 
voured the  skin  in  question.  A  dog  accused  is 
generally  a  dog  condemned  ;  and  a  dog  con- 
demned is  generally  a  dog  executed.  So  was  it  in 
the  present  instance.  The  unfortunate  cur  was 
arraigned  ;  his  thievish  looks  substantiated  his 
guilt,  and  he  was  condemned  by  his  judges  from 
across  the  river  to  be  hanged.  In  vain  the  Indians 
of  the  hut,  with  whom  he  was  a  great  favorite,  in- 
terceded in  his  behalf.  In  vain  Captain  Bonne- 
ville and  his  comrades  petitioned  that  his  life 
might  be  spared.  His  judges  were  inexorable. 
He  was  doubly  guilty  ;  first,  in  having  robbed  their 
good  friends,  the  Big  Hearts  of  the  East  ;  second- 
ly, in  having  brought  a  doubt  on  the  honor  of  the 
Nez  Perce"  tribe.  He  was,  accordingly,  swung 
aloft,  and  pelted  with  stones  to  make  his  death 
more  certain.  The  sentence  of  the  judges  being 
thoroughly  executed,  a  post  mortem  examination 
of  the  body  of  the  clog  was  held  to  establish  his  de- 
linquency beyond  all  doubt,  and  to  leave  the  Nez 
Perec's  without  a  shadow  of  suspicion.  Great  in- 
terest, of  course,  ivas  manifested  by  all  present, 
during  this  operation.  The  body  of  the  dog  was 
opened,  the  intestines  rigorously  scrutinized,  but, 
to  the  horror  of  all  concerned,  not  a  particle  of  the 
skin  was  to  be  found — the  dog  had  been  unjustly 
executed. 

A  great  clamor  now  ensued,  but  the  most 
clamorous  was  the  party  from  across  the  river, 
whose  jealousy  of  their  good  name  now  prompted 
them  to  the  most  vociferous  vindications  of  their 
innocence.  It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
the  captain  and  his  comrades  could  calm  their 
lively  sensibilities,  by  accounting  for  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  skin  in  a  dozen  different  ways, 
until  all  idea  of  its  having  been  stolen  was  entirely 
out  of  the  question. 

The  meeting  now  broke  up.  The  warriors  re- 
turned across  the  river,  the  captain  and  his  com- 
rades proceeded  on  their  journey  ;  but  the  spirits 
of  the  communicative  old  chief,  Yo-mus-ro-y-e-cut, 
were  for  a  time  completely  dampened,  and  he 
evinced  great  mortification  at  what  had  just  oc- 
curred. He  rode  on  in  silence,  except  that  now 
and  then  he  would  give  way  to  a  burst  of  indigna- 
tion, and  exclaim,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  and 
a  toss  of  the  hand  toward  the  opposite  shore — 
"  bad  men,  very  bad  men  across  the  river  ;"  to 
each  of  which  brief  exclamations,  his  worthy 
cousin,  Hay-she-in-cow-cow,  would  respond  by  a 
deep  guttural  sound  of  acquiescence,  equivalent 
to  an  amen. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


339 


After  some  time  the  countenance  of  the  old  chief 
again  cleared  up,  and  he  fell  into  repeated  con- 
ferences, in  an  undertone,  with  his  cousin,  which 
ended  in  the  departure  of  the  latter,  who,  applying 
the  lash  to  his  horse,  dashed  forward  and  was 
soon  out  of  sight.  In  fact,  they  were  drawing 
near  to  the  village  of  another  chief,  likewise  distin- 
guished by  an  appellation  of  some  longitude,  O- 
push-y-e-cut  but  commonly  known  as  the  great 
chief.  The  cousin  had  been  sent  ahead  to  give 
notice  of  their  approach  ;  a  herald  appeared  as  be- 
fore, bearing  a  powder-horn,  to  enable  them  to 
respond  to  the  intended  salute.  A  scene  ensued, 
on  their  approach  to  the  village,  similar  to  that 
which  had  occurred  at  the  village  of  the  little 
chief.  The  whole  population  appeared  in  the  field, 
drawn  up  in  lines,  arrayed  with  the  customary  re- 
gard to  rank  and  dignity.  Then  came  on  the  fir- 
ing of  salutes,  and  the  shaking  of  hands,  in  which 
last  ceremonial  every  individual,  man,  woman,  and 
child,  participated  ;  for  the  Indians  have  an  idea 
that  it  is  as  indispensable  an  overture  of  friend- 
ship among  the  whites  as  smoking  of  the  pipe  is 
among  the  red  men.  The  travellers  were  next 
ushered  to  the  banquet,  where  all  the  choicest 
viands  that  the  village  could  furnish,  were  served 
up  in  rich  profusion.  They  were  afterward  enter- 
tained by  feats  of  agility  and  horse-races  ;  indeed 
their  visit  to  the  village  seemed  the  signal  for 
complete  festivity.  In  the  meantime,  a  skin  lodge 
had  been  spread  for  their  accommodation,  their 
horses  and  baggage  were  taken  care  of,  and  wood 
and  water  supplied  in  abundance.  At  night, 
therefore,  they  retired  to  their  quarters,  to  enjoy, 
as  they  supposed,  the  repose  of  which  they  stood 
in  need.  No  such  thing,  however,  was  in  store 
for  them.  A  crowd  of  visitors  awaited  their  ap- 
pearance, all  eager  for  a  smoke  and  a  talk.  The 
pipe  was  immediately  lighted,  and  constantly  re- 
plenished and  kept  alive  until  the  night  was  far 
advanced.  As  usual,  the  utmost  eagerness  was 
evinced  by  the  guests  to  learn  everything  within 
the  scope  of  their  comprehension  respecting  the 
Americans,  for  whom  they  professed  the  most 
fraternal  regard.  The  captain,  in  his  replies, 
made  use  of  familiar  illustrations,  calculated  to 
strike  their  minds,  and  impress  them  with  such  an 
idea  of  the  might  of  his  nation  as  would  induce 
them  to  treat  with  kindness  and  respect  all  strag- 
glers that  might  fall  in  their  path.  To  their  in- 
quiries as  to  the  numbers  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States,  he  assured  them  that  they  were  as 
countless  as  the  blades  of  grass  in  the  prairies, 
and  that,  great  as  Snake  River  was,  if  they  were 
all  encamped  upon  its  banks  they  would  drink  it 
dry  in  a  single  day.  To  these  and  similar  statis- 
tics they  listened  with  proiound  attention  and 
apparently  implicit  belief.  It  was,  indeed,  a 
striking  scene  :  the  captain,  with  his  hunter's  dress 
and  bald  head  in  the  midst,  holding  forth, 
and  his  wild  auditors  seated  around  like  so 
many  statues,  the  fire  lighting  up  their  painted 
faces  and  muscular  figures,  all  fixed  and  motion- 
less, excepting  when  the  pipe  was  passed,  a 
question  propounded,  or  a  startling  fact  in  stat- 
istics received  with  a  movement  of  surprise  and 
a  half-suppressed  ejaculation  of  wonder  and 
delight. 

The  fame  of  the  captain  as  a  healer  of  diseases 
had  accompanied  him  to  this  village,  and  the 
great  chief  O-push-y-e-cut  now  entreated  him  to 
exert  his  skill  on  his  daughter,  who  had  been  for 
three  days  racked  with  pains,  for  which  the 
Pierced-nose  doctors  could  devise  no  alleviation. 


The  captain  found  her  extended  on  a  pallet  of 
mats  in  excruciating  pain.  Her  father  manifested 
the  strongest  paternal  affection  for  her,  and  as- 
sured the  captain  that  if  he  would  but  cure  her, 
he  would  place  the  Americans  near  his  heart. 
The  worthy  captain  needed  no  such  inducement. 
His  kind  heart  was  already  touched  by  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  poor  girl,  and  his  sympathies  quick- 
ened by  her  appearance  ;  for  she  was  but  about 
sixteen  years  of  age,  and  uncommonly  beautiful  in 
form  and  feature.  The  only  difficulty  with  the 
captain  was  that  he  knew  nothing  of  her  malady, 
and  that  his  medical  science  was  of  the  most  hap- 
hazard kind.  After  considering  and  cogitating  for 
some  time,  as  a  man  is  apt  to  do  when  in  a  maze 
of  vague  ideas,  he  made  a  desperate  dash  at  a 
remedy.  By  his  directions  the  girl  was  placed 
in  a  sort  of  rude  vapor  bath,  much  used  by  the 
Nez  Perec's,  where  she  was  kept  until  near 
fainting.  He  then  gave  her  a  dose  of  gunpowder 
dissolved  in  cold  water,  and  ordered  her  to  be 
wrapped  in  buffalo  robes  and  put  to  sleep  under 
a  load  of  furs  and  blankets.  The  remedy  suc- 
ceeded ;  the  next  morning  she  was  free  from  pain, 
though  extremely  languid  ;  whereupon  the  cap- 
tain prescribed  for  her  a  bowl  of  colt's  head 
broth,  and  that  she  should  be  kept  for  a  time  on 
simple  diet. 

The  great  chief  was  unbounded  in  his  expressions 
of  gratitude  for  the  recovery  of  his  daughter.  He 
would  fain  have  detained  the  captain  a  long  time 
as  his  guest,  but  the  time  for  departure  had  ar- 
rived. When  the  captain's  horse  was  brought  for 
him  to  mount,  the  chief  declared  that  the  steed 
was  not  worthy  of  him,  and  sent  ior  one  of  his 
best  horses,  which  he  presented  in  its  stead  ;  de- 
claring that  it  made  his  heart  glad  to  see  his  friend 
so  well  mounted.  He  then  appointed  a  young 
Nez  Perce  to  accompany  his  guest  to  the  next  vil- 
lage, and  "to  carry  his  talk"  concerning  them  ; 
and  the  two  parties  separated  with  mutual  expres- 
sions of  kindness  and  feelings  of  good-will. 

The  vapor  bath  of  which  we  have  made  mention 
is  in  frequent  use  among  the  Nez  Perce"  tribe, 
chiefly  for  cleanliness.  Their  sweating-houses,  as 
they  call  them,  are  small  and  close  lodges,  and 
the  vapor  is  produced  by  water  poured  slowly 
upon  red-hot  stones. 

On  passing  the  limits  of  O-push-y-e-cut's  do- 
mains, the  travellers  left  the  elevated  table-lands, 
and  all  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery  which  has 
]ust  been  described.  They  now  traversed  a  gen- 
tly undulating  country,  of  such  fertility  that  it  ex- 
cited the  rapturous  admiration  of  two  of  the  cap- 
tain's followers,  a  Kentuckian  and  a  native  of 
Ohio.  They  declared  that  it  surpassed  any  land 
what  they  had  ever  seen,  and  often  exclaimed  what 
a  delight  it  would  be  just  to  run  a  plough  through 
such  a  rich  and  teeming  soil,  and  see  it  open  its 
bountiful  promise  before  the  share. 

Another  halt  and  sojourn  of  a  night  was  made 
at  the  village  of  a  chief  named  He-mim-el-pilp, 
where  similar  ceremonies  were  observed  and  hos- 
pitality experienced  as  at  the  preceding  villages. 
They  now  pursued  a  west-southwest  course 
through  a  beautiful  and  fertile  region,  better 
wooded  than  most  of  the  tracts  through  which 
they  had  passed.  In  their  progress,  they  met  with 
several  bands  of  Nez  Perces,  by  whom  they  were 
invariably  treated  with  the  utmost  kindness. 
Within  seven  days  after  leaving  the  domain  of  He- 
mim-el-pilp,  they  struck  the  Columbia  River  at 
Fort  Wallah-Wallah,  where  they  arrived  on  the 
4th  of  March,  1834. 


340 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

FORT  WALLAH-WALLAH— ITS  COMMANDER— IN- 
DIANS IN  ITS  NEIGHBORHOOD — EXERTIONS  OF 
MR.  PAMBRUNE  FOR  THEIR  IMPROVEMENT- 
RELIGION — CODE  OF  LAWS — RANGE  OF  THE 
LOWER  NEZ  PERCES — CAMASH,  AND  OTHER 
ROOTS — NEZ  PERCE  HORSES — PREPARATIONS 
FOR  DEPARTURE — REFUSAL  OF  SUPPLIES — DE- 
PARTURE— A  LAGGARD  AND  GLUTTON. 

FORT  WALLAH-WALLAH  is  a  trading-post  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  situated  just  above  the 
mouth  oi  the  river  of  the  same  name,  and  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  Columbia.  It  is  built  of  drift- 
wood, and  calculated  merely  for  defence  against 
any  attack  of  the  natives.  At  the  time  of  Captain 
Bonneville's  arrival,  the  whole  garrison  mustered 
but  six  or  eight  men  :  and  the  post  was  under  the 
superintendence  of  Mr.  Pambrune,  an  agent  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

The  great  post  and  fort  of  the  company,  form- 
ing the  emporium  of  its  trade  on  the  Pacific,  is 
Fort  Vancouver  ;  situated  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  Columbia,  about  sixty  miles  from  the  sea,  and 
just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Wallamut.  To  this 
point  the  company  removed  its  establishment  from 
Astoria,  in  1821,  after  its  coalition  with  the  North- 
west Company. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  comrades  experi- 
enced a  polite  reception  from  Mr.  Pambrune,  the 
superintendent :  for,  however  hostile  the  members 
of  the  British  Company  may  be  to  the  enterprises 
of  American  traders,  they  have  always  manifested 
great  courtesy  and  hospitality  to  the  traders  them- 
selves. 

Fort  Wallah- Wallah  is  surrounded  by  the  tribe 
of  the  same  name,  as  well  as  by  the  Skynses  and 
the  Nez  Perec's  ;  who  bring  to  it  the  furs  and 
peltries  collected  in  their  hunting  expeditions. 
The  Wallah-Wallahs  are  a  degenerate,  wornout 
tribe.  The  Nez  Percys  are  the  most  numerous 
and  tractable  of  the  three  tribes  just  mentioned. 
Mr.  Pambrune  informed  Captain  Bonneville  that 
he  had  been  at  some  pains  to  introduce  the  Chris- 
tian religion,  in  the  Roman  Catholic  form,  among 
them,  where  it  had  evidently  taken  root  ;  but  had 
become  altered  and  modified  to  suit  their  peculiar 
habits  of  thought  and  motives  of  action  ;  retain- 
ing, however,  the  principal  points  of  faith  and  its 
entire  precepts  of  morality.  The  same  gentleman 
had  given  them  a  code  of  laws,  to  which  they 
conformed  with  scrupulous  fidelity.  Polygamy, 
which  once  prevailed  among  them  to  a  great  ex- 
tent, was  now  rarely  indulged.  All  the  crimes 
denounced  by  the  Christian  faith  met  with  severe 
punishment  among  them.  Even  theft,  so  venial  a 
crime  among  the  Indians,  had  recently  been  pun- 
ished with  hanging,  by  sentence  of  a  chief. 

There  certainly  appears  to  be  a  peculiarly  sus- 
ceptibility of  moral  and  religious  improvement 
among  this  tribe,  and  they  would  seem  to  be  one 
of  the  very,  very  few  that  have  benefited  in 
morals  and  manners  by  an  intercourse  with  white 
men.  The  parties  which  visited  them  about  twenty 
years  previously,  in  the  expedition  fitted  out  by 
Mr.  Astor,  complained  of  their  selfishness,  their 
extortion,  and  their  thievish  propensities.  The 
very  reverse  of  those  qualities  prevailed  among 
them  during  the  prolonged  sojourns  of  Captain 
Bonneville. 

The  Lower  Nez  Percys  range  upon  the  Way- 
lee-way,  Immahah,  Yenghies,  and  other  of  the 
streams  west  of  the  mountains.  They  hunt  the 
beaver,  elk,  deer,  white  bear,  and  mountain 


sheep.  Beside  the  flesh  of  these  enimals,  they 
use  a  number  of  roots  for  food  ;  some  of  which 
would  be  well  worth  transplanting  and  cultivating 
in  the  Atlantic  States.  Among  these  is  the 
kamash,  a  sweet  root,  about  the  form  and  size  of 
an  onion,  and  said  to  be  really  delicious.  The 
cowish,  also,  or  biscuit  root,  about  the  size  of  a 
walnut,  which  they  reduce  to  a  very  palatable 
flour  ;  together  with  the  jackap  ais>ish,  quako,  and 
others  ;  which  they  cook  by  steaming  them  in  the 
'ground.  In  August  and  September,  these  Indians 
keep  along  the  rivers,  where  they  catch  and  dry 
great  quantities  of  salmon  ;  which,  while  they  last, 
are  their  principal  food.  In  the  winter  they  congre- 
gate in  villages  formed  of  comfortable  huts,  or 
lodges,  covered  with  mats.  They  are  generally 
clad  in  deer  skins,  or  woollens,  and  extremely 
well  armed.  Above  all,  they  are  celebrated  for 
owning  great  numbers  of  horses  ;  which  they 
mark,  and  then  suffer  to  range  in  droves  in  their 
most  fertile  plains.  These  horses  are  principally 
of  the  pony  breed  ;  but  remarkably  stout  and  long- 
winded.  They  are  brought  in  great  numbers  to 
the  establishments  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company, 
and  sold  for  a.  mere  trifle. 

Such  is  the  account  given  by  Captain  Bonneville 
of  the  Nez  Percys  ;  who,  if  not  viewed  by  him  with 
too  partial  an  eye,  are  certainly  among  the  gen- 
tlest and  least  barbarous  people  of  these  remote 
wildernesses.  They  invariably  signified  to  him 
their  earnest  wish  that  an  American  post  might 
be  established  among  them  ;  and  repeatedly  de- 
clared that  they  would  trade  with  Americans  in 
preference  to  any  other  people. 

Captain  Bonneville  had  intended  to  remain 
some  time  in  this  neighborhood,  to  form  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  natives  and  to  collect  informa- 
tion, and  establish  connections  that  might  be 
advantageous  in  the  way  of  trade.  The  delays, 
however,  which  he  had  experienced  on  his  jour- 
ney, obliged  him  to  shorten  his  sojourn,  and  to 
set  off  as  soon  as  possible,  so  as  to  reach  the  ren- 
dezvous at  the  Portneut  at  the  appointed  time. 
He  had  seen  enough  to  convince  him  that  an 
American  trade  might  be  carried  on  with  advan- 
tage in  this  quarter  ;  and  he  determined  soon  to 
return  with  a  stronger  party,  more  completely 
fitted  for  the  purpose. 

As  he  stood  in  need  of  some  supplies  for  his 
journey,  he  applied  to  purchase  them  of  Mr.  Pam- 
brune ;  but  soon  found  the  difference  between 
being  treated  as  a  guest,  or  as  a  rival  trader.  The 
worthy  superintendent,  who  had  extended  to  him 
all  the  genial  rites  of  hospitality,  now  suddenly  as- 
sumed a  withered  up  aspect  and  demeanor,  and 
observed  that,  however  he  might  feel  disposed  to 
serve  him,  personally,  he  felt  bound  by  his  duty  to 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  to  do  nothing  which 
should  facilitate  or  encourage  the  visits  of  other 
traders  among  the  Indians  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  He  endeavored  to  dissuade  Captain 
Bonneville  from  returning  through  the  Blue  Moun- 
tains ;  assuring  him  it  would  be  extremely  diffi- 
cult and  dangerous,  if  not  impracticable,  at  this 
season  of  the  year  ;  and  advised  him  to  accom- 
pany Mr.  Payette,  a  leader  of  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company,  who  was  about  to  depart  with  a  num- 
ber of  men,  by  a  more  circuitous,  but  safe  route, 
to  carry  supplies  to  the  company's  agent,  resident 
among  the  Upper  Nez  Perces.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, however,  piqued  at  his  having  refused  to  fur- 
nish him  with  supplies,  and  doubting  the  sincerity 
of  his  advice,  determined  to  return  by  the  more 
direct  route-through  the  mountains  ;  though  vary- 
ing his  course,  in  some  respects,  from  that  by 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


341 


which  he  had  come,  in  consequence  of  informa- 
tion gathered  among  the  neighboring  Indians. 

Accordingly,  on  the  6th  of  March  he  and  his 
three  companions,  accompanied  by  their  Nez 
Perc£  guides,  set  out  on  their  return.  In  the 
early  part  of  their  course,  they  touched  again  at 
several  of  the  Nez  Perce"  villages,  where  they  had 
experienced  such  kind  treatment  on  their  way 
down.  They  were  always  welcomed  with  cordial- 
ity ;  and  everything  was  done  to  cheer  them  on 
their  journey. 

On  leaving  the  Way-lee-way  village,  they  were 
joined  by  a  Nez  Perce,  whose  society  was  wel- 
comed on  account  of  the  general  gratitude  and 
good-will  they  felt  for  his  tribe.  He  soon  proved 
a  heavy  clog  upon  the  little  party,  being  doltish 
and  taciturn,  lazy  in  the  extreme,  and  a  huge 
feeder.  His  only  proof  of  intellect  was  in  shrewd- 
ly avoiding  all  labor,  and  availing  himself  of  the 
toil  of  others.  When  on  the  march,  he  always 
lagged  behind  the  rest,  leaving  to  them  the  task 
of  breaking  a  way  through  all  difficulties  and  im- 
pediments, and  leisurely  i  nd  lazily  jogging  along 
the  track,  which  they  had  beaten  through  the 
snow.  At  the  evening  encampment,  when  others 
were  busy  gathering  fuel,  providing  for  the  horses, 
and  cooking  the  evening  repast,  this  worthy 
Sancho  of  the  wilderness  would  take  his  seat 
quietly  and  cosily  by  the  fire,  puffing  away  at  his 
pipe,  and  eyeing  in  silence,  but  with  wistful  inten- 
sity of  gaze,  the  savory  morsels  roasting  for  supper. 

When  meal-time  arrived,  however,  then  came 
his  season  of  activity.  He  no  longer  hung  back, 
and  waited  for  others  to  take  the  lead,  but  distin- 
guished himself  by  a  brilliancy  of  onset  and  a  sus- 
tained vigor  and  duration  of  attack  that  com- 
pletely shamed  the  efforts  of  his  competitors — 
albeit,  experienced  trenchermen  of  no  mean 
prowess.  Never  had  they  witnessed  such  power 
of  mastication  and  such  marvellous  capacity  of 
stomach  as  in  this  native  and  uncultivated  gas- 
tronome. Having,  by  repeated  and  prolonged  as- 
saults, at  length  completely  gorged  himself,  he 
would  wrap  himself  up,  and  lie  with  the  torpor  of 
an  anaconda,  slowly  digesting  his  way  on  to  the 
next  repast. 

The  gormandizing  powers  of  this  worthy  were, 
at  first,  matters  of  surprise  and  merriment  to  the 
travellers  ;  but  they  soon  became  too  serious  for  a 
joke,  threatening  devastation  to  the  fleshpots  ; 
and  he  was  regarded  askance,  at  his  meals,  as  a 
regular  kill-crop,  destined  to  waste  the  substance 
of  the  party.  Nothing  but  a  sense  of  the  obliga- 
tions they  were  under  to  his  nation  induced  them 
to  bear  with  such  a  guest;  but  he  proceeded, 
speedily,  to  relieve  them  from  the  weight  of  these 
obligations,  by  eating  a  receipt  in  full. 


CHAPTER   XXXV. 

THE  UNINVITED  GUEST — FREE  AND  EASY  MAN- 
NERS—SALUTARY JOKES — A  PRODIGAL  SON- 
EXIT  OF  THE  GLUTTON— A  SUDDEN  CHANGE 
IN  FORTUNE — DANGER  OF  A  VISIT  TO  POOR 
RELATIONS— PLUCKING  OF  A  PROSPEROUS  MAN 
— A  VAGABOND  TOILET — A  SUBSTITUTE  FOR 
THE  VERY  FINE  HORSE— HARD  TRAVELLING — 
THE  UNINVITED  GUEST  AND  THE  PATRIARCHAL 
COLT — A  BEGGAR  ON  HORSEBACK — A  CATAS- 
TROPHE—EXIT OF  THE  MERRY  VAGABOND. 

As  Captain   Bonneville  and   his  men  were  en- 
camped one  evening  among  the  hills  near  Snake 


River,  seated  before  their  fire,  enjoying  a  hearty 
supper,  they  were  suddenly  surprised  by  the  visit 
of  an  uninvited  guest.  He  was  a  ragged,  halt- 
naked  Indian  hunter,  armed  with  bow  and  arrows, 
and  had  the  carcass  of  a  fine  buck  thrown  across 
his  shoulder.  Advancing  with  an  alert  step,  and 
free  and  easy  air,  he  threw  the  buck  on  the 
ground,  and,  without  waiting  for  an  invitation, 
seated  himself  at  their  mess,  helped  himself  with- 
out ceremony,  and  chatted  to  the  right  and  left  in 
the  liveliest  and  most  unembarrassed  manner.  No 
adroit  and  veteran  dinner  hunter  of  a  metropolis 
could  have  acquitted  himself  more  knowingly. 
The  travellers  were  at  first  completely  taken  by 
surprise,  and  could  not  but  admire  the  facility 
with  which  this  ragged  cosmopolite  made  himself 
at  home  among  them.  While  they  stared  he  went 
on,  making  the  most  of  the  good  cheer  upon 
which  he  had  so  fortunately  alighted  ;  and  was 
soon  elbow  deep  in  "  pot  luck"  and  greased  from 
the  tip  of  his  nose  to  the  back  of  his  ears. 

As  the  company  recovered  from  their  surprise, 
they  began  to  feel  annoyed  at  this  intrusion. 
Their  uninvited  guests,  unlike  the  generality  of 
his  tribe,  was  somewhat  dirty  as  well  as  ragged 
and  they  had  no  relish  for  such  a  messmate. 
Heaping  up,  therefore,  an  abundant  portion  of 
the  "  provant"  upon  a  piece  of  bark  which  served 
for  a  dish,  they  invited  him  to  confine  himself 
thereto,  instead  of  foraging  in  the  general  mess. 

He  complied  with  the  most  accommodating 
spirit  imaginable  ;  and  went  on  eating  and  chat- 
ting, and  laughing  and  smearing  himself,  until  his 
whole  countenance  shone  with  grease  and  good- 
humor.  In  the  course  of  his  repast,  his  attention 
was  caught  by  the  figure  of  the  gastronome,  who, 
as  usual,  was  gorging  himself  in  dogged  silence. 
A  droll  cut  of  the  eye  showed  either  that  he  knew 
him  of  old,  or  perceived  at  once  his  characteris- 
tics. He  immediately  made  him  the  butt  of  his 
pleasantries  ;  and  cracked  off  two  or  three  good 
hits,  that  caused  the  sluggish  dolt  to  prick  up  his 
ears,  and  delighted  all  the  company.  From  this 
time,  the  uninvited  guest  was  taken  into  favor  ; 
his  jokes  began  to  be  relished  ;  his  careless,  free 
and  easy  air,  to  be  considered  singularly  amus- 
ing ;  and  in  the  end,  he  was  pronounced  by  the 
travellers  one  of  the  merriest  companions  and 
most  entertaining  vagabonds  they  had  met  with  in 
the  wilderness. 

Supper  being  over,  the  redoubtable  Shee-wee- 
she-ouaiter,  for  such  was  the  simple  name  by 
which  he  announced  himself,  declared  his  inten- 
tion of  keeping  company  with  the  party  for  a  day 
or  two,  if  they  had  no  objection  ;  and  by  way  of 
backing  his  self-invitation,  presented  the  carcass 
of  the  buck  as  an  earnest  of  his  hunting  abilities. 
By  this  time  he  had  so  completely  effaced  the  un- 
favorable impression  made  by  his  first  appear- 
ance, that  he  was  made  welcome  to  the  camp,  and 
the  Nez  Perce"  guide  undertook  to  give  him  lodg- 
ing for  the  night.  The  next  morning,  at  break  of 
day  he  borrowed  a  gun,  and  was  off  among  the 
hills,  nor  was  anything  more  seen  of  him  until  a 
few  minutes  after  the  party  had  encamped  for  the 
evening,  when  he  again  made  his  appearance,  in 
his  usual  frank,  careless  manner,  and  threw  down 
the  carcass  of  another  noble  deer,  which  he  had 
borne  on  his  back  for  a  considerable  distance. 

This  evening  he  was  the  life  of  the  party,  and 
his  open  communicative  disposition,  free  from  all 
disguise,  soon  put  them  in  possession  of  his  his- 
tory. He  -had  been  a  kind  of  prodigal  son  in  his 
native  village  ;  living  a  loose,  heedless  life,  and 
disregarding  the  precepts  and  imperative  com- 


342 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


mands  of  the  chiefs.  He  had,  in  consequence, 
been  expelled  from  the  village,  but,  in  nowise  dis- 
heartened at  this  banishment  had  betaken  himself 
to  the  society  of  the  border  Indians,  and  had  led 
a  careless,  haphazard,  vagabond  life,  perfectly 
consonant  to  his  humors  ;  heedless  of  the  future, 
so  long  as  he  had  wherewithal  for  the  present  ; 
and  fearing  no  lack  of  food,  so  long  as  he  had  the 
implements  of  the  chase,  and  a  fair  hunting 
ground. 

Finding  him  very  expert  as  a  hunter,  and  being 
pleased  with  his  eccentricities  and  his  strange 
and  merry  humor,  Captain  Bonneville  fitted  him 
out  handsomely  as  the  Nimrod  of  the  party,  who 
all  soon  became  quite  attached  to  him.  One  of 
the  earliest  and  most  signal  services  he  per- 
formed, was  to  exorcise  the  insatiate  kill-crop 
that  had  hitherto  oppressed  the  party.  In  fact, 
the  doltish  Nez  Perce",  who  had  seemed  so  perfect- 
ly insensible  to  rough  treatment  of  every  kind,  by 
which  the  travellers  had  endeavored  to  elbow  him 
out  of  their  society,  could  not  withstand  the  good 
humored  bantering,  and  occasionally  sharp  wit  of 
She-wee-she.  He  evidently  quailed  under  his 
jokes,  and  sat  blinking  like  an  owl  in  daylight, 
when  pestered  by  the  flouts  and  peckings  of  mis- 
chievous birds.  At  length  his  place  was  found 
vacant  at  meal-time  ;  no  one  knew  when  he  went 
off,  or  whither  he  had  gone,  but  he  was  seen  no 
more,  and  the  vast  surplus  that  remained  when 
the  repast  was  over,  showed  what  a  mighty  gor- 
mandizer had  departed. 

Relieved  from  this  incubus,  the  little  party  now 
went  on  cheerily.  She-wee-she  kept  them  in  fun  as 
well  as  food.  His  hunting  was  always  successful  ; 
he  was  ever  ready  to  render  any  assistance  in  the 
camp  or  on  the  march  ;  while  his  jokes,  his 
antics,  and  the  very  cut  of  his  countenance,  so 
full  of  whim  and  comicality,  kept  every  one  in 
good-humor. 

In  this  way  they  journeyed  on  until  they  ar- 
rived on  the  banks  of  the  Immahah,  and  en- 
camped near  to  the  Nez  Perce  lodges.  Here  She- 
wee-she  took  a  sudden  notion  to  visit  his  people, 
and  show  off  the  state  of  worldly  prosperity  to 
which  he  had  so  suddenly  attained.  He  accord- 
ingly departed  in  the  morning,  arrayed  in  hunter's 
style,  and  well  appointed  with  everything  befitting 
his  vocation.  The  buoyancy  of  his  gait,  the  elas- 
ticity of  his  step,  and  the  hilarity  of  his  counte- 
nance, showed  that  he  anticipated,  with  chuck- 
ling satisfaction,  the  surprise  he  was  about  to 
give  those  who  had  ejected  him  from  their  society 
in  rags.  But  what  a  change  was  there  in  his 
whole  appearance  when  he  rejoined  the  party  in 
the  evening  !  He  came  skulking  into  camp  like 
a  beaten  cur,  with  his  tail  between  his  legs.  All 
his  finery  was  gone  ;  he  was  naked  as  when  he 
was  born,  with  the  exception  of  a  scanty  flap  that 
answered  the  purpose  of  a  fig  leaf.  His  fellow- 
travellers  at  first  did  not  know  him,  but  supposed 
it  to  be  some  vagrant  Root  Digger  sneaking  into 
the  camp. ;  but  when  they  recognized  in  this  for- 
lorn object  their  prime  wag,  She-wee-she,  whom 
they  had  seen  depart  in  the  morning  in  such  high 
glee  and  high  leather,  they  could  notcontain  their 
merriment,  but  hailed  him  with  loud  and  repeat- 
ed peals  of  laughter. 

She-wee-she  was  not  of  a  spirit  to  be  easily  cast 
down  ;  he  soon  joined  in  the  merriment  as 
heartily  as  any  one,  and  seemed  to  consider  his 
reverse  of  fortune  an  excellent  joke.  Captain 
Bonneville,  however,  thought  proper  to  check  his 
good-humor,  and  demanded,  with  some  degree  of 
Sternness,  the  cause  of  his  altered  condition.  He 


replied  in  the  most  natural  and  self-complacent 
style  imaginable,  "  that  he  had  been  among  his 
cousins,  who  were  very  poor  ;  they  had  been  de- 
lighted to  see  him  ;  still  more  delighted  with  his 
good-fortune  ;  they  had  taken  him  to  theif  arms  ; 
admired  his  equipments  ;  one  had  begged  for 
this  ;  another  lor  that" — in  fine,  what  with  the 
poor  devil's  inherent  heedlessness  and  the  real 
generosity  of  his  disposition,  his  needy  cousins 
had  succeeded  in  stripping  him  of  all  his  clothes 
and  accoutrements,  excepting  the  fig  leaf  with 
which  he  had  returned  to  camp. 

Seeing  his  total  want  of  care  and  forethought, 
Captain  Bonneville  determined  to  let  him  suffer 
a  little,  in  hopes  it  might  prove  a  salutary  lesson  ; 
and,  at  any  rate,  to  make  him  no  more  presents 
while  in  the  neighborhood  of  his  needy  cousins. 
He  was  left,  therefore,  to  shift  for  himself  in  his 
naked  condition  ;  which,  however,  did  not  seem 
to  give  him  any  concern,  or  to  abate  one  jot  of 
his  good-humor.  In  the  course  of  his  lounging 
about  the  camp,  however,  he  got  possession  of  a 
deer-skin  ;  whereupon,  cutting-  a  slit  in  the  mid- 
dle, he  thrust  his  head  through  it,  so  that  the  two 
ends  hung  down  before  and  behind,  something 
like  a  South  American  poncho,  or  the  tabard  of  a 
herald.  These  ends  he  tied  together,  under  the 
armpits  ;  and  thus  arrayed  presented  himself  once 
more  before  the  captain,  with  an  air  of  perfect 
self-satisfaction,  as  though  he  thought  it  impossi- 
ble for  any  fault  to  be  found  with  his  toilet. 

A  little  further  journeying  brought  the  travel- 
lers to  the  petty  village  of  Nez  Percys,  governed 
by  the  worthy  and  affectionate  old  patriarch  who 
had  made  Captain  Bonneville  the  costly  present 
of  a  very  fine  horse.  The  old  man  welcomed 
them  once  more  to  his  village  with  his  usual  cor- 
diality, and  his  respectable  squaw  and  hopeful 
son,  cherishing  grateful  recollections  of  the 
hatchet  and  ear-bobs,  joined  in  a  chorus  of  friend- 
ly gratulation. 

As  the  much-vaunted  steed,  once  the  joy  and 
pride  of  this  interesting  family,  was  now  nearly 
knocked  up  by  travelling,  and  totally  inadequate 
to  the  mountain  scramble  that  lay  ahead,  Captain 
Bonneville  restored  him  to  the  venerable  patri- 
arch, with  renewed  acknowledgments  for  the  inval- 
uable gift.  Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  he  was  im- 
mediately supplied  with  a  fine  two  years'  old  colt 
in  his  stead,  a  substitution  which,  he  afterward 
learned,  according  to  Indian  custom  in  such 
cases,  he  might  have  claimed  as  a  matter  of 
right.  We  do  not  find  that  any  after  claims  were 
made  on  account  of  this  colt.  This  donation  may 
be  regarded,  therefore,  as  a  signal  punctilio  of  In- 
dian honor  ;  but  it  will  be  found  that  the  animal 
soon  proved  an  unlucky  acquisition  to  the  party. 

While  at  this  village,  the  Nez  Perce  guide  had 
held  consultations  with  some  of  the  inhabitants  as 
to  the  mountain  tract  the  party  were  about  to 
traverse.  He  now  began  to  wear  an  anxious 
aspect,  and  to  indulge  in  gloomy  forebodings. 
The  snow,  he  had  been  told,  lay  to  a  great  depth 
in  the  passes  of  the  mountains,  and  difficulties 
would  increase  as  he  proceeded.  He  begged  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  therefore,  to  travel  very  slowly, 
so  as  to  keep  the  horses  in  strength  and  spirit  for 
the  hard  times  they  would  have  to  encounter. 
The  captain  surrendered  the  regulation  of  the 
march  entirely  to  his  discretion,  and  pushed  on  in 
the  advance,  amusing  himself  with  hunting,  so  as 
generally  to  kill  a  deer  or  two  in  the  course  of  the 
day,  and  arriving,  before  the  rest  of  the  party,  at 
the  spot  designated  by  the  guide  for  the  evening's 
encampment. 


. li/i •/ rif/tf?.-, 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


343 


In  the  meantime,  the  others  plodded  on  at  the 
heels  of  the  guide,  accompanied  by  that  merry 
vagabond,  She-wee-she.  The  primitive  garb 
worn  by  this  droll  left  all  his  nether  man  exposed 
to  the  biting  blasts  of  the  mountains.  Still  his  wit 
was  never  frozen,  nor  his  sunshiny  temper  be- 
clouded ;  and  his  innumerable  antics  and  prac- 
tical jokes,  while  they  quickened  the  circulation  of 
his  own  blood,  kept  his  companions  in  high  good- 
humor. 

So  passed  the  first  day  after  the  departure  from 
the  patriarch's.  The  second  day  commenced  in 
the  same  manner  ;  the  captain  in  the  advance,  the 
rest  of  the  party  following  on  slowly.  She-wee- 
she,  for  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  trudged  on 
foot  over  the  snow,  keeping  himself  warm  by 
hard  exercise,  and  all  kinds  of  crazy  capers.  In 
the  height  of  his  foolery,  the  patriarchal  colt, 
which,  unbroken  to  the  saddle,  was  suffered  to 
follow  on  at  large,  happened  to  come  within  his 
reach.  In  a  moment  he  was  on  his  back,  snap- 
ping his  fingers,  and  yelping  with  delight.  The 
colt,  unused  to  such  a  burden,  and  half  wild  by 
nature,  fell  to  prancing  and  rearing,  and  snorting, 
and  plunging,  and  kicking  ;  and,  at  length,  set  off 
full  speed  over  the  most  dangerous  ground.  As 
the  route  led  generally  along  the  steep  and  craggy 
sides  on  the  hills,  both  horse  and  horseman  were 
constantly  in  danger,  and  more  than  once  had  a 
hairbreadth  escape  from  deadly  peril.  Nothing, 
however,  could  daunt  this  madcap  savage.  He 
stuck  to  the  colt  like  a  plaster,  up  ridges,  down 
gullies  ;  whooping  and  yelling  with  the  wildest 
glee.  Never  did  beggar  on  horseback  display 
more  headlong  horsemanship.  His  companions 
followed  him  with  their  eyes,  sometimes  laugh- 
ing, sometimes  holding  in  their  breath  at  his 
vagaries,  until  they  saw  the  colt  make  a  sudden 
plunge  or  start,  and  pitch  his  unlucky  rider 
headlong  over  a  precipice.  There  was  a  general 
cry  of  horror,  and  all  hastened  to  the  spot.  They 
found  the  poor  fellow  lying  among  the  rocks  below, 
sadly  bruised  and  mangled.  It  was  almost  a 
miracle  that  he  had  escaped  with  life.  Even  in 
this  condition  his  merry  spirit  was  not  entirely 
quelled,  and  he  summoned  up  a  feeble  laugh  at 
the  alarm  and  anxiety  of  those  who  came  to  his 
relief.  He  was  extricated  from  his  rocky  bed, 
and  a  messenger  dispatched  to  inform  Captain 
Bonneville  of  the  accident.  The  latter  returned 
with  all  speed,  and  encamped  the  party  at  the  first 
convenient  spot.  Here  the  wounded  man  was 
stretched  upon  buffalo  skins,  and  the  captain, 
who  officiated  on  all  occasions  as  doctor  and  sur- 
geon to  the  party,  proceeded  to  examine  his 
wounds.  The  principal  one  was  a  long  and  deep 
gash  in  the  thigh,  which  reached  to  the  bone. 
Calling  for  a  needle  and  thread,  the  captain  now 
prepared  to  sew  up  the  wound,  admonishing  the 
patient  to  submit  to  the  operation  with  becoming 
fortitude.  His  gayety  was  at  an  end  ;  he  could 
no  longer  summon  up  even  a  forced  smile  ;  and, 
at  the  first  puncture  of  the  needle  flinched  so 
piteously  that  the  captain  was  obliged  to  pause, 
and  to  order  him  a  powerful  dose  of  alcohol. 
This  somewhat  rallied  up  his  spirit  and  warmed 
his  heart  ;  all  the  time  of  the  operation,  however, 
he  kept  his  eyes  riveted  on  the  wound,  with  his 
teeth  set,  and  a  whimsical  wincing  of  the  counte- 
nance that  occasionally  gave  his  nose  something 
of  its  usual  comic  curl. 

When  the  wound  was  fairly  closed,  the  cap- 
tain washed  it  with  rum,  and  administered  a  sec- 
ond dose  of  the  same  to  the  patient,  who  was 
tucked  in  for  the  night,  and  advised  to  compose 


himself  to  sleep.  He  was  restless  and  uneasy, 
however  ;  repeatedly  expressing  his  fears  that  his 
leg  would  be  so  much  swollen  the  next  day  as 
to  prevent  his  proceeding  with  the  party  ;  nor 
could  he  be  quieted  until  the  captain  gave  a  de- 
cided opinion  favorable  to  his  wishes. 

Early  the  next  morning,  a  gleam  of  his  merry 
humor  returned,  on  finding  that  his  wounded 
limb  retained  its  natural  proportions.  On  at- 
tempting to  use  it,  however,  he  found  himself 
unable  to  stand.  He  made  several  efforts  to  ccax 
himself  into  a  belief  that  he  might  still  continue 
forward  ;  but  at  length  shook  his  head  desponcl- 
ingly,  and  said  that  "  as  he  had  but  one  leg,"  it 
was  all  in  vain  to  attempt  a  passage  of  the  moun- 
tain. 

Every  one  grieved  to  part  with  so  boon  a  com- 
panion, and  under  such  disastrous  circumstances. 
He  was  once  more  clothed  and  equipped,  each 
one  making  him  some  parting  present.  He  was 
then  helped  on  a  horse,  which  Captain  Bonneville 
presented  to  him  ;  and  after  many  parting  ex- 
pressions of  good-will  on  both  sides,  set  off  on 
his  return  to  his  old  haunts  ;  doubtless  to  be  once 
more  plucked  by  his  affectionate  but  needy  cous- 
ins 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  DIFFICULT   MOUNTAIN — A  SMOKE  AND  CON- 
SULTATION— THE  CAPTAIN'S  SPEECH — AN    ICY 

TURNPIKE— DANGER  OF  A  FALSE  STEP — AR- 
RIVAL ON  SNAKE  RIVER — RETURN  TO  PORT- 
NEUF — MEETING  OF  COMRADES. 

CONTINUING  their  journey  up  the  course  of  the 
Immahah,  the  travellers  found,  as  they  approach- 
ed the  head-waters,  the  snow  increased  in  quan- 
tity, so  as  to  lie  two  feet  deep.  They  were  again 
obliged,  therefore,  to  beat  down  a  path  for  their 
horses,  sometimes  travelling  on  the  icy  surface 
of  the  stream.  At  length  they  reached  the  place 
where  they  intended  to  scale  the  mountain  ;  and, 
having  broken  a  pathway  to  the  foot,  were  agree- 
ably surprised  to  find  that  the  wind  had  drifted 
the  snow  from  off  the  side,  so  that  they  attained 
the  summit  with  but  little  difficulty.  Here  they 
encamped,  with  the  intention  of  beating  a  track 
through  the  mountains.  A  short  experiment, 
however,  obliged  them  to  give  up  the  attempt, 
the  snow  lying  in  vast  drifts,  often  higher  than 
the  horses'  heads. 

Captain  Bonneville  now  took  the  two  Indian 
guides,  and  set  out  to  reconnoitre  the  neighbor- 
hood. Observing  a  high  peak  which  overtopped 
the  rest,  he  climbed  it,  and  discovered  from  the 
summit  a  pass  about  nine  miles  long,  but  so 
heavily  piled  with  snow  that  it  seemed  impracti- 
cable. He  now  lit  a  pipe,  and,  sitting  down 
with  the  two  guides,  proceeded  to  hold  a  consul- 
tation after  the  Indian  mode.  For  a  long  while 
they  all  smoked  vigorously  and  in  silence,  ponder- 
ing over  the  subject  matter  before  them.  At 
length  a  discussion  commenced,  and  the  opinion 
in  which  the  two  guides  .concurred  was,  that  the 
horses  could  not  possibly  cross  the  snows.  They 
advised,  therefore,  that  the  party  should  proceed 
on  foot,  and  they  should  take  the  horses  back  to 
the  village,  where  they  would  be  well  taken  care 
of  until  Captain  Bonneville  should  send  for  them. 
They  urged  this  advice  with  great  earnestness  ; 
declaring  that  their  chief  would  be  extremely 


344 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


angry,  and  treat  them  severely  should  any  of  the 
horses  of  his  good  friends,  the  white  men,  be 
lost  in  crossing  under  their  guidance  ;  and  that, 
therefore,  it  was  good  they  should  not  attempt  it. 

Captain  Bonneville  sat  smoking  his  pipe,  and 
listening  to  them  with  Indian  silence  and  gravity. 
When  they  had  finished,  he  replied  to  them  in 
their  own  style  of  language. 

"  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  I  have  seen  the  pass, 
and  have  listened  to  your  words  ;  you  have  little 
hearts.  When  troubles  and  dangers  lie  in  your 
way,  you  turn  your  backs.  That  is  not  the  way 
with  my  nation.  When  great  obstacles  present, 
and  threaten  to  keep  them  back,  their  hearts 
swell,  and  they  push  forward.  They  love  to  con- 
quer difficulties.  But  enough  for  the  present. 
Night  is  coming  on  ;  let  us  return  to  our  camp." 

He  moved  on,  and  they  followed  in  silence.  On 
reaching  the  camp,  he  found  the  men  extremely 
discouraged.  One  of  their  number  had  been 
surveying  the  neighborhood,  and  seriously  as- 
sured them  that  the  snow  was  at  least  a  hundred 
feet  deep.  The  captain  cheered  them  up,  and 
diffused  fresh  spirit  in  them  by  his  example. 
Still  he  was  much  perplexed  how  to  proceed. 
About  dark.there  was  a  slight  drizzling  rain.  An 
expedient  now  suggested  itself.  This  was  to 
make  two  light  sleds,  place  the  packs  on  them, 
and  drag  them  to  the  other  side  of  the  mountain, 
thus  forming  a  road  in  the  wet  snow,  which, 
should  it  afterward  freeze,  would  be  sufficiently 
hard  to  bear  the  horses.  This  plan  was  promptly 
put  into  execution  ;  the  sleds  were  constructed, 
the  heavy  baggage  was  drawn  backward  and  for- 
ward until  the  road  was  .beaten,  when  they  de- 
sisted from  their  fatiguing  labor.  The  night 
turned  out  clear  and  cold,  and  by  morning  their 
road  was  incrusted  with  ice  sufficiently  strong 
for  their  purpose.  They  now  set  out  on  their  icy 
turnpike,  and  got  on  well  enough,  excepting  that 
now  and  then  a  horse  would  sidle  out  of  the 
track,  and  immediately  sink  up  to  the  neck.  Then 
came  on  toil  and  difficulty,  and  they  would  be 
obliged  to  haul  up  the  floundering  animal  with 
ropes.  One,  more  unlucky  than  the  rest,  after  re- 
peated falls,  had  to  be  abandoned  in  the  snow. 
Notwithstanding  these  repeated  delays,  they 
succeeded,  before  the  sun  had  acquired  sufficient 
power  to  thaw  the  snow,  in  getting  all  the  rest  of 
their  horses  safely  to  the  other  side  of  the  moun- 
tain. 

Their  difficulties  and  dangers,  however,  were 
not  yet  at  an  end.  They  had  now  to  descend, 
and  the  whole  surface  of  the  snow  was  glazed 
with  ice.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  wait  un- 
til the  warmth  of  the  sun  should  melt  the  glassy 
crust  of  sleet,  and  give  them  a  foothold  to  the 
yielding  snow.  They  had  a  frightful  warning  of 
the  danger  of  any  movement  while  the  sleet  re- 
mained. A  wild  young  mare,  in  her  restless- 
ness, strayed  to  the  edge  of  a  declivity.  One 
slip  was  fatal  to  her  ;  she  lost  her  balance,  ca- 
reered with  headlong  velocity  down  the  slippery 
side  of  the  mountain  for  more  than  two  thousand 
feet,  and  was  dashed  to  pieces  at  the  bottom. 
When  the  travellers  afterward  sought  the  carcass 
to  cut  it  up  for  food,  they  found  it  torn  and 
mangled  in  the  most  horrible  manner. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  evening  before  the 
party  descended  to  the  ultimate  skirts  of  the  snow. 
Here  they  planted  large  logs  below  them  to  pre- 
vent their  sliding  down,  and  encamped  for  the 
night.  The  next  day  they  succeeded  in  bringing 
down  their  baggage  to  the  encampment  ;  then 
packing  all  up  regularly  and  loading  their  horses, 


they  once  more  set  out  briskly  and  cheerfully, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  following  day  succeeded 
in  getting  to  a  grassy  region. 

Here  their  Nez  Perce  guides  declared  that  all 
the  difficulties  of  the  mountains  were  at  an  end, 
and  their  course  was  plain  and  simple,  and  need- 
ed  no  further  guidance  ;  they  asked  leave,  there- 
fore, to  return  home.  This  was  readily  granted, 
with  many  thanks  and  presents  for  their  faithful 
services.  They  took  a  long  farewell  smoke  with 
their  white  friends,  after  which  they  mounted  their 
horses  and  set  off,  exchanging  many  farewells 
and  kind  wishes. 

On  the  following  day,  Captain  Bonneville  com- 
pleted his  journey  down  the  mountain,  and  en- 
camped on  the  borders  of  Snake  River,  where  he 
found  the  grass  in  great  abundance  and  eight 
inches  in  height.  In  this  neighborhood  he  saw 
on  the  rocky  banks  of  the  river  several  prismoids 
of  basaltes,  rising  to  the  height  of  fifty  or  sixty 
feet. 

Nothing  particularly  worthy  of  note  occurred 
during  several  days  as  the  party  proceeded  up 
along  Snake  River  and  across  its  tributary 
streams.  After  crossing  Gun  Creek,  they  met 
with  various  signs  that  white  people  were  in  the 
neighborhood,  and  Captain  Bonneville  made 
earnest  exertions  to  discover  whether  they  were 
any  of  his  own  people,  that  he  might  join  them. 
He  soon  ascertained  that  they  had  been  starved 
out  of  this  tract  of  country,  and  had  betaken 
themselves  to  the  buffalo  region,  whither  he  now 
shaped  his  course.  In  proceeding  along  Snake 
River,  he  found  small  hordes  of  Shoshonies  lin- 
gering upon  the  minor  streams,  and  living  upon 
trout  and  other  fish,  which  they  catch  in  great 
numbers  at  this  season  in  fish-traps.  The  greater 
part  of  the  tribe,  however,  had  penetrated  the 
mountains  to  hunt  the  elk,  deer,  and  ahsahta  or 
bighorn. 

On  the  1 2th  of  May  Captain  Bonneville  reached 
the  Portneuf  River,  in  the  vicinity  of  which  he 
had  left  the  winter  encampment  of  his  company 
on  the  preceding  Christmas  day.  He  had  then 
expected  to  be  back  by  the  beginning  of  March, 
but  circumstances  had  detained  him  upward  of 
two  months  beyond  the  time,  and  the  winter  en- 
campment must  long  ere  this  have  been  broken 
up.  Halting  on  the  banks  of  the  Portneuf,  he  dis- 
patched scouts  a  few  miles  above,  to  visit  the  old 
camping  ground  and  search  for  signals  of  the 
party,  or  of  their  whereabouts,  should  they  act- 
ually have  abandoned  the  spot.  They  returned 
without  being  able  to  ascertain  anything. 

Being  now  destitute  of  provisions,  the  travellers 
found  it  necessary  to  make  a  short  hunting  excur- 
sion after  buffalo.  They  made  caches,  therefore, 
in  an  island  in  the  river,  in  which  they  deposited 
all  their  baggage,  and  then  set  out  on  their  expe- 
dition. They  were  so  fortunate  as  to  kill  a  couple 
of  fine  bulls,  and  cutting  up  the  carcasses,  deter- 
mined to  husband  this  stock  of  provisions  with  the 
most  miserly  care,  lest  they  should  again  be 
obliged  to  venture  into  the  open  and  dangerous 
hunting  grounds.  Returning  to  their  island  on 
the  1 8th  of  May,  they  found  that  the  wolves  had 
been  at  the  caches,  scratched  up  the  contents, 
and  scattered  them  in  every  direction.  They  now 
constructed  a  more  secure  one,  in  which  they  de- 
posited their  heaviest  articles,  and  then  descend- 
ed Snake  River  again,  and  encamped  just  above 
the  American  Falls.  Here  they  proceeded  to 
fortify  themselves,  intending  to  remain  here,  and 
give  their  horses  an  opportunity  to  recruit  their 
strength  with  good  pasturage,  until  it  should  be 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


345 


time  to  set  out  for  the  annual  rendezvous  in  Bear 
River  valley. 

On  the  first  of  June  they  descried  four  men  on 
the  other  side  of  the  river,  opposite  to  the  camp, 
and,  having  attracted  their  attention  by  a  dis- 
charge of  rifles,  ascertained  to  their  joy  that  they 
were  some  of  their  own  people.  From  these  men 
Captain  Bonneville  learned  that  the  whole  party 
which  he  had  left  in  the  preceding-  month  of  De- 
cember were  encamped  on  Blackfoot  River,  a 
tributary  of  Snake  River,  not  very  far  above  the 
Portneuf.  Thither  he  proceeded  with  all  possi- 
ble dispatch,  and  in  a  little  while  had  the  pleasure 
of  finding  himself  once  more  surrounded  by  his 
people,  who  greeted  his  return  among  them  in  the 
heartiest  manner  ;  for  his  long-protracted  absence 
had  convinced  them  that  he  and  his  three  com- 
panions had  been  cut  off  by  some  hostile  tribe. 

The  party  had  sufferecl  much  during  his  ab- 
sence. They  had  been  pinched  by  famine  and 
almost  starved,  and  had  been  forced  to  repair  to 
the  caches  at  Salmon  River.  Here  they  fell  in 
with  the  Blackfeet  bands,  and  considered  them- 
selves fortunate  in  being  able  to  retreat  from  the 
dangerous  neighborhood  without  sustaining  any 
loss. 

Being  thus  reunited,  a  general  treat  from  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  to  his  men  was  a  matter  of  course. 
Two  days,  therefore,  were  given  up  to  such  feast- 
ing and  merriment  as  their  means  and  situation 
afforded.  What  was  wanting  in  good  cheer  was 
made  up  in  good-will  ;  the  free  trappers  in  partic- 
ular distinguished  themselves  on  the  occasion, 
and  the  saturnalia  was  enjoyed  with  a  hearty  hol- 
iday spirit,  that  smacked  of  the  game  flavor  of 
the  wilderness, 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

DEPARTURE  FOR  THE  RENDEZVOUS — A  WAR 
PARTY  OF  BLACKFEET — A  MOCK  BUSTLE — SHAM 
FIRES  AT  NIGHT — WARLIKE  PRECAUTIONS — 
DANGERS  OF  A  NIGHT  ATTACK — A  PANIC 
AMONG  HORSES — CAUTIOUS  MARCH — THE  BEER 
SPRINGS — A  MOCK  CAROUSAL — SKIRMISHING 
WITH  BUFFALOES — A  BUFFALO  BAIT — ARRIVAL 
AT  THE  RENDEZVOUS — MEETING  OF  VARIOUS 
BANDS. 

AFTER  the  two  days  of  festive  indulgence,  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  broke  up  the  encampment,  and 
set  out  with  his  motley  crew  ot  hired  and  free 
trappers,  half-breeds,  Indians,  and  squaws,  for 
the  mam  rendezvous  in  Bear  River  valley.  Di- 
recting his  course  up  the  Blackfoot  River,  he 
soon  reached  the  hills  among  which  it  takes  its 
rise.  Here,  while  on  the  march,  he  descried  from 
the  brow  of  a  hill,  a  war  party  of  about  sixty 
Blackfeet,  on  the  plain  immediately  below  him. 
His  situation  was  perilous  ;  for  the  greater  part 
of  his  people  were  dispersed  in  various  directions. 
Still,  to  betray  hesitation  or  fear  would  be  to  dis- 
cover his  actual  weakness,  and  to  invite  attack. 
He  assumed  instantly,  therefore,  a  belligerent 
tone  ;  ordered  the  squaws  to  lead  the  horses  to  a 
small  grove  of  ashen  trees,  and  unload  and  tie 
them  ;  and  caused  a  great  bustle  to  be  made  by 
his  scanty  handful  ;  the  leaders  riding  hither  and 
thither  and  vociferating  with  all  their  might,  as  if 
a  numerous  force  were  getting  under  way  for  an 
attack. 

To  keep  up  the  deception  as  to  his  force,  he  or- 
dered, at  night,  a  number  of  extra  fires  to  be 


made  in  his  camp,  and  kept  up  a  vigilant  watch. 
His  men  were  all  directed  to  keep  themselves  pre- 
pared for  instant  action.  In  such  cases  the  expe- 
rienced trapper  sleeps  in  his  clothes,  with  his  rifle 
beside  him,  the  shot-belt  and  powder-flask  on 
the  stock  ;  so  that,  in  case  ot  alarm,  he  can  lay 
his  hand  upon  the  whole  of  his  equipment  at 
once,  and  start  up,  completely  armed. 

Captain  Bonneville  was  also  especially  careful 
to  secure  the  horses,  and  set  a  vigilant  guard 
upon  them  ;  for  there  lies  the  great  object  and 
principal  danger  of  a  night  attack.  The  grand 
move  of  the  lurking  savage  is  to  cause  a  panic 
among  the  horses.  In  such  cases  one  horse  fright- 
ens another,  until  all  are  alarmed,  and  struggle 
to  break  loose.  In  camps  where  there  are  great 
numbers  of  Indians,  with  their  horses,  a  night 
alarm  of  the  kind  is  tremendous.  The  running 
of  the  horses  that  have  broken  loose  ;  the  snorting, 
stamping,  and  rearing  of  those  which  remain 
fast  ;  the  howling  of  dogs  ;  the  yelling  of  In- 
dians ;  the  scampering  of  white  men,  and  red 
men,  with  their  guns  ;  the  overturning  of  lodges 
and  trampling  of  fires  by  the  horses  ;  the  flashes 
of  the  fires,  lighting  up  forms  of  men  and  steeds 
dashing  through  the  gloom,  altogether  make  up 
one  of  the  wildest  scenes  of  confusion  imaginable. 

In  this  way,  sometimes,  all  the  horses  ot  a  camp 
amounting  to  several  hundred  will  be  frightened 
off  in  a  single  night. 

The  night  passed  off  without  any  disturbance  ; 
but  there  was  no  likelihood  that  a  war  party  of 
Blackfeet,  once  on  the  track  of  a  camp  where 
there  was  a  chance  for  spoils,  would  fail  to  hover 
round  it.  The  captain,  therefore,  continued  to 
maintain  the  most  vigilant  precautions  ;  throw- 
ing out  scouts  in  the  advance,  and  on  every  rising 
ground. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  he  arrived  at  the  plain 
of  white  clay,  already  mentioned,  surrounded  by 
the  mineral  springs,  called  Beer  Springs,  by  the 
trappers.*  Here  the  men  all  halted  to  have  a  re- 
gale. In  a  few  moments  every  spring  had  its 
jovial  knot  ol  hard  drinkers,  with  tin  cup  in  hand, 
indulging  in  a  mock  carouse  ;  quaffing,  pledging, 
toasting,  bandying  jokes,  singing  drinking  songs, 
and  uttering  peals  ot  laughter,  until  it  seemed  as 
if  their  imaginations  had  given  potency  to  the 
beverage,  and  cheated  them  into  a  fit  of  intoxi- 
cation. Indeed,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment 
they  were  loud  and  extravagant  in  their  commen- 
dations of  "  the  mountain  tap  ;"  elevating  it 
above  every  beverage  produced  from  hops  or 
malt.  It  was  a  singular  and  fantastic  scene  ; 
suited  to  a  region  where  everything  is  strange  and 
peculiar  :  These  groups  of  trappers  and  hunters, 
and  Indians,  with  their  wild  costumes  and  wilder 
countenances  ;  their  boisterous  gayety  and  reck- 
less air  ;  quaffing  and  making  merry  round  these 


*  In  a  manuscript  journal  of  Mr.  Nathaniel  G. 
Wyeth,  we  find  the  following  mention  of  this  water- 
ing-place : 

"  There  is  here  a  soda  spring  ;  or,  I  may  say,  fifty 
of  them.  These  springs  throw  out  lime,  which  de- 
posits and  forms  little  hillocks  of  a  yellowish-colored 
stone.  There  is,  also,  here,  a  warm  spring,  which 
throws  out  water,  with  a  jet  ;  which  is  like  bilge-water 
in  taste.  There  are,  also,  here,  peat  beds,  which 
sometimes  take  fire,  and  leave  behind  a  deep,  light 
ashes;  in  which  animal  sink  deep.  .  .  .  I  ascend- 
ed a  mountain,  and  from  it  could  see  that  Bear  River 
took  a  short  turn  round  Sheep  Rock.  There  were, 
in  the  plain,  many  hundred  mounds  of  yellowish 
stone,  with  a  crater  on  the  top,  formed  of  the  deposits 
of  the  impregnated  water." 


346 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


sparkling  fountains  ;  while  beside  them  lay  their 
weapons,  ready  to  be  snatched  up  for  instant  ser- 
vice. Painters  are  fond  of  representing  banditti 
at  their  rude  and  picturesque  carousals  ;  but 
here  were  groups  still  more  rude  and  picturesque  ; 
and  it  needed  but  a  sudden  onset  of  Blackieet, 
and  a  quick  transition  from  a  fantastic  revel  to  a 
furious  mel^e,  to  have  rendered  this  picture  of  a 
trapper's  life  complete. 

The  beer  frolic,  however,  passed  off  without 
any  untoward  circumstance  ;  and,  unlike  most 
drinking  bouts,  left  neither  headache  nor  heart- 
ache behind.  Captain  Bonneville  now  directed 
his  course  up  along  Bear  River  ;  amusing  himself 
occasionally  with  hunting  the  buffalo,  with  which 
the  country  was  covered.  Sometimes  when  he 
saw  a  huge  bull  taking  his  repose  in  a  prairie,  he 
would  steal  along  a  ravine,  until  close  upon  him  ; 
then  rouse  him  from  his  meditations  with  a  peb- 
ble, and  take  a  shot  at  him  as  he  started  up. 
Such  is  the  quickness  with  which  this  animal 
springs  upon  his  legs,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  dis- 
cover the  muscular  process  by  which  it  is  effected. 
The  horse  rises  first  upon  his  forelegs,  and  the 
domestic  cow  upon  her  hinder  limbs,  but  the 
buffalo  bounds  at  once  from  a  couchant  to  an  erect 
position  with  a  celerity  that  baffles  the  eye. 
Though  from  his  bulk  and  rolling  gait  he  does 
not  appear  to  run  with  much  swiftness  ;  yet  it 
takes  a  stanch  horse  to  overtake  him,  when  at  full 
speed  on  level  ground  ;  and  a  buffalo  cow  is  still 
fleeter  in  her  motion. 

Among  the  Indians  and  half-breeds  of  the  party 
were  several  admirable  horsemen  and  bold  hunt- 
ers, who  amused  themselves  with  a  grotesque 
kind  of  buffalo  bait.  Whenever  they  found  a  huge 
bull  in  the  plains,  they  prepared  for  their  teasing 
and  barbarous  sport.  Surrounding  him  on  horse- 
back, they  would  discharge  their  arrows  at  him  in 
quick  succession,  goading  him  to  make  an  attack  ; 
which,  with  a  dexterous  movement  of  the  horse, 
they  would  easily  avoid.  In  this  way,  they  hover- 
ed round  him,  feathering  him  with  arrows,  as  he 
reared  and  plunged  about,  until  he  was  bristled 
all  over  like  a  porcupine.  When  they  perceived 
in  him  signs  of  exhaustion,  and  he  could  no 
longer  be  provoked  to  make  battle,  they  would 
dismount  from  their  horses,  approach  him  in  the 
rear,  and  seizing  him  by  the  tail,  jerk  him  from 
side  to  side,  and  drag  him  backward  ;  until  the 
frantic  animal,  gathering  fresh  strength  from 
fury,  would  break  from  them,  anrl  rush,  with 
flashing  eyes  and  a  hoarse  bellowing,  upon  any 
enemy  in  sight  ;  but  in  a  little  while,  his  transient 
excitement  at  an  end,  would  pitch  headlong  on 
the  ground  and  expire.  The  arrows  were  then 
plucked  forth,  the  tongue  cut  out  and  preserved 
as  a  dainty,  and  the  carcass  left  a  banquet  for  the 
wolves. 

Pursuing  his  course  up  Bear  River,  Captain 
Bonneville  arrived,  on  the  I3th  of  June,  at  the 
Little  Snake  Lake  ;  where  he  encamped  for  four 
or  five  days,  that  he  might  examine  its  shores  and 
outlets.  The  latter  he  found  extremely  muddy, 
and  so  surrounded  by  swamps  and  quagmires 
that  he  was  obliged  to  construct  canoes  of  rushes 
with  which  to  explore  them.  The  mouths  of  all 
the  streams  which  fall  into  this  lake  from  the 
west  are  marshy  and  inconsiderable  ;  but  on  the 
east  side  there  is  a  beautiful  beach,  broken  occa- 
sionally by  high  and  isolated  bluffs,  which  ad- 
vance upon  the  lake,  and  heighten  the  character 
of  the  scenery.  The  water  is  very  shallow,  but 
abounds  with  trout,  and  other  small  fish. 

Having  finished  his  survey  of  the  lake,  Captain 


Bonneville  proceeded  on  his  journey,  until  on  the 
banks  of  the  Bear  River,  some  distance  higher 
up,  he  came  upon  the  party  which  he  had  detach- 
ed a  year  before,  to  circumambulate  the  Great 
Salt  Lake,  and  ascertain  its  extent,  and  the  nature 
of  its  shores.  They  had  been  encamped  here 
about  twenty  days  ;  and  were  greatly  rejoiced  at 
meeting  once  more  with  their  comrades  from 
whom  they  had  so  long  been  separated.  The 
first  inquiry  of  Captain  Bonneville  was  about  the 
result  of  their  journey,  and  the  information  they 
had  procured  as  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  the  ob- 
ject of  his  intense  curiosity  and  ambition.  The 
substance  of  their  report  will  be  found  in  the  fol- 
lowing chapter. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

PLAN  OF  THE  SALT  LAKE  EXPEDITION— GREAT 
SANDY  DESERTS — SUFFERINGS  FROM  THIRST— 
OGDEN'S  RIVER — TRAILS  AND  SMOKE  OF  LURK- 
ING SAVAGES— THEFTS  AT  NIGHT— A  TRAPPER'S 
REVENGE — ALARMS  OF  A  GUILTY  CONSCIENCE — 
A  MURDEROUS  VICTORY — CALIFORNIAN  MOUN- 
TAINS— PLAINS  ALONG  THE  PACIFIC — ARRIVAL 
AT  MONTEREY — ACCOUNT  OF  THE  PLACE  AND 
NEIGHBORHOOD— LOWER  CALIFORNIA— ITS  EX- 
TENT—THE  PENINSULA— SOIL— CLIMATE — PRO- 
DUCTION— ITS  SETTLEMENT  BY  THE  JESUITS  — 
THEIR  SWAY  OVER  THE  INDIANS — THEIR  EX- 
PULSION— RUINS  OF  A  MISSIONARY  ESTABLISH- 
MENT— SUBLIME  SCENERY — UPPER  CALIFORNIA 
— MISSIONS — THEIR  POWER  AND  POLICY — RE- 
SOURCES OF  THE  COUNTRY — DESIGNS  OF  FOR- 
EIGN NATIONS. 

IT  was  on  the  24th  of  July,  in  the  preceding 
year  (1833),  that  the  brigade  of  forty  men  set  out 
from  Green  River  valley,  to  explore  the  Great 
Salt  Lake.  They  were  to  make  the  complete 
circuit  of  it,  trapping  on  all  the  streams  which 
should  fall  in  their  way,  and  to  keep  journals  and 
make  charts,  calculated  to  impart  a  knowledge  of 
the  lake  and  the  surrounding  country.  All  the 
resources  of  Captain  Bonneville  had  been  tasked 
to  fit  out  this  favorite  expedition.  The  country 
lying  to  the  southwest  of  the  mountains,  and 
ranging  down  to  California,  was  as  yet  almost  un- 
known ;  being  out  of  the  buffalo  range,  it  was  un- 
traversed  by  the  trapper,  who  preferred  those 
parts  of  the  wilderness  where  the  roaming  herds 
of  that  species  of  animal  gave  him  comparatively 
an  abundant  and  luxurious  life.  Still  it  was  said 
that  the  deer,  the  elk,  and  the  bighorn  were  to 
be  found  there,  so  that  with  a  little  diligence  and 
economy,  there  was  no  danger  of  lacking  food. 
As  a  precaution,  however,  the  party  halted  on 
Bear  River  and  hunted  for  a  few  days,  until  they 
had  laid  in  a  supply  of  dried  buffalo  meat  and 
venison  ;  they  then  passed  by  the  head-waters  of 
the  Cassie  River,  and  soon  found  themselves 
launched  on  an  immense  sandy  desert.  South- 
wardly, on  their  left,  they  beheld  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  spread  out  like  a  sea,  but  they  found  no 
stream  running  into  it.  A  desert  extended  around 
them,  and  stretched  to  the  southwest  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  rivalling  the  deserts  of  Asia 
and  Africa  in  sterility.  There  was  neither  tree, 
nor  herbage,  nor  spring,  nor  pool,  nor  running 
stream — nothing  but  parched  wastes  of  sand, 
where  horse  and  rider  were  in  danger  of  perish- 
ing. 

Their  sufferings,  at  length,  became  so  great 
that  they  abandoned  their  intended  course,  and 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


347 


made  toward  a  range  of  snowy  mountains 
brightening  in  the  north,  where  they  hoped  to  find 
water.  After  a  time,  they  came  upon  a  small 
stream  leading  directly  toward  these  mountains. 
Having  quenched  their  burning  thirst,  and  re- 
freshed themselves  and  their  weary  horses  for  a 
time,  they  kept  along  this  stream,  which  grad- 
ually increased  in  size,  being  fed  by  numerous 
brooks.  After  approaching  the  mountains,  it 
took  a  sweep  toward  the  southwest,  and  the  trav- 
ellers still  kept  along  it,  trapping  beaver  as  they 
went,  on  the  flesh  of  which  they  subsisted  for  the 
present,  husbanding  their  dried  meat  for  future 
necessities. 

The  stream  on  which  they  had  thus  fallen  is 
called  by  some,  Mary  River,  but  is  more  generally 
known  as  Ogden's  River,  from  Mr.  Peter  Ogden, 
an  enterprising  and  intrepid  leader  oi  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company  who  first  explored  it  The 
wild  and  halt  desert  region  through  which  the 
travellers  were  passing  is  wandered  over  by 
hordes  of  Shoshokoes,  or  Root  Diggers,  the  forlorn 
branch  of  the  Snake  tribe  They  are  a  shy  peo- 
ple, prone  to  keep  aloof  from  the  stranger.  The 
travellers  frequently  met  with  their  trails  and  saw 
the  smoke  of  their  fires  rising  in  yarious  parts  of 
the  vast  landscape,  so  that  they  knew  there  were 
great  numbers  in  the  neighborhood,  but  scarcely 
ever  were  any  of  them  to  be  met  with. 

After  a  time,  they  began  to  have  vexatious 
proofs  that,  it  the  Shoshokoes  were  quiet  by  day, 
they  were  busy  at  night.  The  camp  was  dogged 
by  these  eavesdroppers  ;  scarce  a  morning  but 
various  articles  were  missing,  yet  nothing  could 
be  seen  of  the  marauders.  What  particularly  ex- 
asperated the  hunters,  was  to  have  their  traps 
stolen  from  the  streams.  One  morning  a  trap- 
per of  a  violent  and  savage  character,  discovering 
that  his  traps  had  been  carried  off  in  the  night, 
took  a  horrid  oath  to  kill  the  first  Indian  he  should 
meet,  innocent  or  guilty.  As  he  was  returning 
with  his  comrades  to  camp,  he  beheld  two  unfor- 
tunate Diggers,  seated  on  the  river  bank,  fishing. 
Advancing  upon  them,  he  levelled  his  rifle,  shot 
one  upon  the  spot,  and  flung  his  bleeding  body 
into  the  stream.  The  other  Indian  fled,  and  was 
suffered  to  escape.  Such  is  the  indifference  with 
which  acts  of  violence  are  regarded  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  such  the  immunity  an  armed  ruffian  en- 
joys beyond  the  barriers  of  the  laws,  that  the  only 
punishment  this  desperado  met  with,  was  a  re- 
buke from  the  leader  of  the  party. 

The  trappers  now  left  the  scene  of  this  infamous 
tragedy,  and  kept  on  westward,  down  the  course 
of  the  river,  which  wound  along  with  a  range  of 
mountains  on  the  right  hand  and  a  sandy  but 
somewhat  fertile  plain  on  the  left.  As  they  pro- 
ceeded, they  beheld  columns  of  smoke  rising,  as 
before,  in  various  directions,  with  their  guilty 
consciences  now  converted  into  alarm  signals,  to 
arouse  the  country  and  collect  the  scattered  bands 
for  vengeance. 

After  a  time  the  natives  began  to  make  their 
appearance,  and  sometimes  in  considerable  num- 
bers, but  always  pacific  ;  the  trappers,  however, 
suspected  them  of  deep-laid  plans  to  draw  them 
into  ambuscades  ;  to  crowd  into  and  get  possession 
of  their  camp,  and  various  other  crafty  and  daring 
conspiracies  which,  it  is  probable,  never  entered 
into  the  heads  of  the  poor  savages.  In  fact,  they 
are  a  simple,  timid,  inoffensive  race,  unpractised 
in  warfare,  and  scarce  provided  with  any  weapons, 
excepting  for  the  chase.  Their  lives  are  passed 
in  the  great  sand  plains  and  along  the  adjacent 
rivers  ;  they  subsist  sometimes  on  fish,  at  other 


times  on  roots  and  the  seeds  of  a  plant  called  the 
cat's-tail.  They  are  of  the  same  kind  of  people 
that  Captain  Bonneville  found  upon  Snake  River, 
and  whom  he  found  so  mild  and  inoffensive. 

The  trappers,  however,  had  persuaded  them- 
selves that  they  were  making  their  way  through  a 
hostile  country,  and  that  implacable  foes  hung 
round  their  camp  or  beset  their  path,  watching 
for  an  opportunity  to  surprise  them.  At  length 
one  day  they  came  to  the  banks  of  a  stream  empty- 
ing into  Ogden's  River,  which  they  were  obliged 
to  ford.  Here  a  great  number  of  Shoshokoes  were 
posted  on  the  opposite  bank.  Persuaded  they 
were  there  with  hostile  intent,  they  advanced  upon 
them,  levelled  their  rifles,  and  killed  twenty-five 
of  them  on  the  spot.  The  rest  fled  to  a  short  dis- 
tance, then  halted  and  turned  about  howling  and 
whining  like  wolves,  and  uttering  the  most  piteous 
waitings.  The  trappers  chased  them  in  every 
direction  ;  the  poor  wretches  made  no  defence, 
but  fled  with  terror  ;  neither  does  it  appear  from 
the  accounts  of  the  boasted  victors,  that  a  weap- 
on had  been  wielded  or  a  weapon  launched 
by  the  Indians  throughout  the  affair.  We  feel  per- 
fectly convinced  that  the  poor  savages  had  no 
hostile  intention,  but  had  merely  gathered  to- 
gether through,  motives  of  curiosity,  as  others  of 
their  tribe  had  done  when  Captain  Bonneville 
and  his  companions  passed  along  Snake  River. 

The  trappers  continued  clown  Cgden's  River, 
until  they  ascertained  that  it  lost  itself  in  a  great 
swampy  lake,  to  which  there  was  no  apparent  dis- 
charge. They  then  struck  directly  westward, 
across  the  great  chain  of  Californian  mountains 
intervening  between  these  interior  plains  and  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific. 

For  three  and  twenty  clays  they  were  entangled 
among  these  mountains,  the  peaks  and  ridges  of 
which  are  in  many  places  covered  with  perpetual 
snow.  Their  passes  and  defiles  present  the  wild- 
est scenery,  partaking  of  the  sublime  rather  than 
the  beautiful,  and  abounding  with  frightful  prec- 
ipices. The  sufferings  of  the  travellers  among 
these  savage  mountains  were  extreme  ;  for  a  part 
of  the  time  they  were  nearly  starved  ;  at  length 
they  made  their  way  through  them,  and  came 
down  upon  the  plains  of  New  California,  a  fertile 
region  extending  along  the  coast,  with  magnificent 
forests,  verdant  savannas,  and  prairies  that  look 
like  stately  parks.  Here  they  found  deer  and 
other  game  in  abundance,  and  indemnified  them- 
selves for  past  famine..  They  now  turned  toward 
the  south,  and  passing  numerous  small  bands  of 
natives,  posted  upon  various  streams,  arrived  at 
the  Spanish  village  and  post  of  Monterey. 

This  is  a  small  place,  containing  about  two 
hundred  houses,  situated  in  latitude  37"  north. 
It  has  a  capacious  bay,  with  indifferent  anchorage. 
The  surrounding  country  is  extremely  fertile,  es- 
pecially in  the  valleys  ;  the  soil  is  richer  the  fur- 
ther you  penetrate  into  the  interior,  and  the  cli- 
mate is  described  as  a  perpetual  spring.  Indeed, 
all  California,  extending  along  the  Pacific  Ocean 
from  latitude  19°  30'  to  42°  north,  is  represented 
as  one  of  the  most  fertile  and  beautiful  regions  in 
North  America. 

Lower  California,  in  length  about  seven  hun- 
dred miles,  forms  a  great  peninsula,  which  cross- 
es the  tropics  and  terminates  in  the  torrid  zone. 
It  is  separated  from  the  mainland  by  the  Gulf  of 
California,  sometimes  called  the  Vermilion  Sea  ; 
into  this  gulf  empties  the  Colorado  of  the  West, 
the  Seeds-ke-dee,  or  Green  River,  as  it  is  also 
sometimes  called.  The  peninsula  is  traversed 
by  stern  and  barren  mountains,  and  has  many 


348 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


sandy  plains,  where  the  only  signs  of  vegetation  is 
the  cylindrical  cactus  growing  among  the  clefts 
of  the  rocks.  Wherever  there  is  water,  however, 
and  vegetable  mould,  the  ardent  nature  of  the 
climate  quickens  everything  into  astonishing  fer- 
tility. There  are  valleys  luxuriant  with  the  rich 
and  beautiful  productions  of  the  tropics.  There 
the  sugar-cane  and  indigo  plant  attain  a  perfection 
unequalled  in  any  other  part  of  North  America. 
There  flourish  the  olive,  the  fig,  the  date,  the  or- 
ange, the  citron,  the  pomegranate,  and  other 
fruits  belonging  to  the  voluptuous  climates  of  the 
south  ;  with  grapes  in  abundance,  that  yield  a 
generous  wine.  In  the  interior  are  salt  plains  ; 
silver  mines  and  scanty  veins  of  gold  are  said, 
likewise,  to  exist  ;  and  pearls  of  a  beautiful  water 
are  to  be  fished  upon  the  coast. 

The  peninsula  of  California  was  settled  in  1698, 
by  the  Jesuits,  who,  certainly,  as  far  as  the  na- 
tives were  concerned,  have  generally  proved  the 
most  beneficent  of  colonists.  In  the  present  in- 
stance, they  gained  and  maintained  a  footing  in 
the  country  without  the  aid  of  military  force,  but 
solely  by  religious  influence.  They  formed  a 
treaty,  and  entered  into  the  most  amicable  rela- 
tions with  the  natives,  then  numbering  from 
twenty-five  to  thirty  thousand  souls,  and  gained 
a  hold  upon  their  affections,  and  a  control  over 
their  minds,  that  effected  a  complete  change  in 
their  condition.  They  built  eleven  missionary 
establishments  in  the  various  valleys  of  the  penin- 
sula, which  formed  rallying  places  for  the  sur- 
rounding savages,  where  they  gathered  together 
as  sheep  into  the  fold,  and  surrendered  them- 
selves and  their  consciences  into  the  hands  of 
these  spiritual  pastors.  Nothing,  we  are  told, 
could  exceed  the  implicit  and  affectionate  devo- 
tion of  the  Indian  converts  to  the  Jesuit  fathers, 
and  the.  Catholic  faith  was  disseminated  widely 
through  the  wilderness. 

The  growing  power  and  influence  of  the  Jesuits 
in  the  New  World  at  length  excited  the  jealousy 
of  the  Spanish  government,  and  they  were  ban- 
ished from  the  colonies.  The  governor,  who  ar- 
rived at  California  to  expel  them,  and  to  take 
charge  of  the  country,  expected  to  find  a  rich  and 
powerful  fraternity,  with  immense  treasures 
hoarded  in  their  missions,  and  an  army  of  Indians 
ready  to  defend  them.  On  the  contrary,  he  be- 
held a  few  venerable  silver-haired  priests  coming 
humbly  forward  to  meet  him,  followed  by  a 
throng  of  weeping,  but  submissive  natives.  The 
heart  of  the  governor,  it  is  said,  was  so  touched 
by  this  unexpected  sight  that  he  shed  tears  ;  but 
he  had  to  execute  his  orders.  The  Jesuits  were 
accompanied  to  the  place  of  their  embarkation  by 
their  simple  and  affectionate  parishioners,  who 
took  leave  of  them  with  tears  and  sobs.  Many  of 
the  latter  abandoned  their  hereditary  abodes, 
and  wandered  off  to  join  their  southern  brethren, 
so  that  but  a  remnant  remained  in  the  peninsula. 
The  Franciscans  immediately  succeeded  the  Jes- 
uits, and  subsequently  the  Dominicans  ;  but  the 
latter  managed  their  affairs  ill.  But  two  of  the 
missionary  establishments  are  at  present  occupied 
by  priests  ;  the  rest  are  all  in  ruins,  excepting 
one,  which  remains  a  monument  of  the  former 
power  and  prosperity  of  the  order.  This  is  a  no- 
ble edifice,  once  the  seat  of  the  chief  of  the  resi- 
dent Jesuits,  i  It  is  situated  in  a  beautiful  valley, 
about  half  way  between  the  Gulf  of  California  and 
the  broad  ocean,  the  peninsula  being  here  about 
sixty  miles  wide.  The  edifice  is  of  hewn  stone, 
one  story  high,  two  hundred  and  ten  feet  in 


front,  and  about  fifty-five  feet  deep.  The  walls 
are  six  feet  thick,  and  sixteen  feet  high,  with  a 
vaulted  roof  of  stone,  about  two  feet  and  a  half  in 
thickness.  It  is  now  abandoned  and  desolate  ; 
the  beautiful  valley  is  without  an  inhabitant — not 
a  human  being  resides  within  thirty  miles  of  the 
place  ! 

In  approaching  this  deserted  mission-house 
from  the  south,  the  traveller  passes  over  the 
mountain  of  San  Juan,  supposed  to  be  the  highest 
peak  in  the  Californias.  From  this  lofty  emi- 
nence, a  vast  and  magnificent  prospect  unfolds  it- 
self ;  the  great  Gulf  of  California,  with  the  dark 
blue  sea  beyond,  studded  with  islands  ;  and  in 
another  direction,  the  immense  lava  plain  of  San 
Gabriel.  The  splendor  of  the  climate  gives  an 
Italian  effect  to  the  immense  prospect.  The  sky 
is  of  a  deep  blue  color,  and  the  sunsets  are  often 
magnificent  beyond  description.  Such  is  a  slight 
and  imperfect  sketch  of  this  remarkable  peninsula. 

Upper  California  extends  from  latitude  31"  10' 
to  42"  on  the  Pacific,  and  inland,  to  the  great 
chain  of  snow-capped  mountains  v/hich  divide  it 
from  the  sand  plains  of  the  interior.  There  are 
about  twenty-one  missions  in  this  province,  most 
of  which  were  established  about  fifty  years  since, 
and  are  generally  under  the  care  of  the  Francis- 
cans. These  exert  a  protecting  sway  over  about 
thirty-five  thousand  Indian  converts,  who  reside 
on  the  lands  around  the  mission  houses.  Each 
of  these  houses  has  fifteen  miles  square  of  land 
allotted  to  it,  subdivided  into  small  lots,  propor- 
tioned to  the  number  of  Indian  converts  attached 
to  the  mission.  Some  are  enclosed  with  high 
walls  ;  but  in  general  they  are  open  hamlets,  com- 
posed of  rows  of  huts,  built  of  sunburned  bricks  ; 
in  some  instances  whitewashed  and  rooied  with 
tiles.  Many  of  them  are  far  in  the  interior,  be- 
yond the  reach  of  all  military  protection,  and  de- 
pendent entirely  on  the  good-will  of  the  natives, 
which  never  fails  them.  They  have  made  consid- 
erable progress  in  teaching  the  Indians  the  useful 
arts.  There  are  native  tanners,  shoemakers, 
weavers,  blacksmiths,  stonecutters,  and  other  ar- 
tificers attached  to  each  establishment.  Others 
are  taught  husbandry,  and  the  rearing  of  cattle 
and  horses  ;  while  the  females  card  and  spin 
wool,  weave,  and  perform  the  other  duties  allot- 
ted to  their  sex  in  civilized  life.  No  social  inter- 
course is  allowed  between  the  unmarried  of  the 
opposite  sexes  after  working  hours  ;  and  at  night 
they  are  locked  up  in  separate  apartments,  and 
the  keys  delivered  to  the  priests. 

The  produce  of  the  lands,  and  all  the  profits 
arising  from  sales,  are  entirely  at  the  disposal  of 
the  priests  ;  whatever  is  not  required  for  the  sup- 
port of  the  missions  goes  to  augment  a  fund 
which  is  under  their  control.  Hides  and  tallow 
constitute  the  principal  riches  of  the  missions, 
and,  indeed,  the  main  commerce  of  the  country. 
Grain  might  be  produced  to  an  unlimited  extent 
at  the  establishments,  were  there  a  sufficient 
market  for  it.  Olives  and  grapes  are  also  reared 
at  the  missions. 

Horses  and  horned  cattle  abound  throughout 
all  this  region  ;  the  former  may  be  purchased  at 
from  three  to  five  dollars,  but  they  are  of  an  in- 
ferior breed.  Mules,  which  are  here  of  a  large 
size  and  of  valuable  qualities,  cost  from  seven  to 
ten  dollars. 

There  are  several  excellent  ports  along  this 
coast.  San  Diego,  San  Barbara,  Monterey,  the 
bay  of  San  Francisco,  and  the  northern  port  of 
Bondago  ;  all  afford  anchorage  tor  ships  of  the 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


349 


largest  class.  The  port  of  San  Francisco  is  too 
well  known  to  require  much  notice  in  this  place. 
The  entrance  from  the  sea  is  sixty-seven  fathoms 
deep,  and  within,  whole  navies  might  ride  with 
perfect  safety.  Two  large  rivers,  which  take  their 
rise  in  mountains  two  or  three  hundred  miles  to 
the  east,  and  run  through  a  country  unsurpassed 
for  soil  and  climate,  empty  themselves  into  the 
harbor.  The  country  around  affords  admirable 
timber  for  ship-building.  In  a  word,  this  favored 
port  combines  advantages  which  not  only  fit  it  for 
a  grand  naval  depot,  but  almost  render  it  capable 
of  being  made  the  dominant  military  post  of  these 
seas. 

Such  is  a  feeble  outline  of  the  Californian  coast 
and  country,  the  value  of  which  is  more  and  more 
attracting  the  attention  of  naval  powers.  The 
Russians  have  always  a  ship  of  war  upon  this 
station,  and  have  already  encroached  upon  the 
Californian  boundaries,  by  taking  possession  of 
the  port  of  Bondago,  and  fortifying  it  with  several 
guns.  Recent  surveys  have  likewise  been  made, 
both  by  the  Russians  and  the  English,  and  we 
have  little  doubt,  that,  at  no  very  distant  day,  this 
neglected,  and,  until  recently,  almost  unknown 
region,  will  be  found  to  possess  sources  of  wealth 
sufficient  to  sustain  a  powerful  and  prosperous 
empire.  Its  inhabitants  themselves  are  but  little 
aware  of  its  real  riches  ;  they  have  not  enterprise 
sufficient  to  acquaint  themselves  with  a  vast  inte- 
rior that  lies  almost  a  terra  incognita  ;  nor  have 
they  the  skill  and  industry  to  cultivate  properly 
the  fertile  tracts  alon^  the  coast  ;  nor  to  prose- 
cute that  foreign  commerce  which  brings  all  the 
resources  of  a  country  into  profitable  action. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

GAY  LIFE  AT  MONTEREY — MEXICAN  HORSEMEN 
— A  BOLD  DRAGOON — USE  OF  THE  LASSO — 
VAQUEROS — NOOSING  A  BEAR — FIGHT  BETWEEN 
A  BULL  AND  A  BEAR — DEPARTURE  FROM 
MONTEREY  —  INDIAN  HORSE-STEALERS  —  OUT- 
RAGES COMMITTED  BY  THE  TRAVELLERS — IN- 
DIGNATION OF  CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE. 

THE  wandering  band  of  trappers  were  well  re- 
ceived at  Monterey,  the  inhabitants  were  desirous 
of  retaining  them  among  them,  and  offered  ex- 
travagant wages  to  such  as  were  acquainted  with 
any  mechanic  art.  When  they  went  into  the 
country,  too,  they  were  kindly  treated  by  the 
priests  at  the  missions  ;  who  are  always  hospita- 
ble to  strangers,  whatever  may  be  their  rank  or 
religion.  They  had  no  lack  of  provisions  ;  being 
permitted  to  kill  as  many  as  they  pleased  of  the 
vast  herds  of  cattle  that  graze  the  country,  on  con- 
dition, merely,  of  rendering  the  hides  to  the  own- 
ers. They  attended  bull-fights  and  horse  races  ; 
lorgot  all  the  purposes  of  their  expedition  ;  squan- 
dered away,  freely,  the  property  that  did  not  be- 
long to  them  ;  and,  in  a  word,  revelled  in  a  per- 
fect fool's  paradise. 

What  especially  delighted  them  was  the  eques- 
trian skill  of  the  Californians.  The  vast  number 
and  the  cheapness  of  the  horses  in  this  country 
makes  every  one  a  cavalier.  The  Mexicans  and 
half-breeds  of  California  spend  the  greater  part 
of  their  time  in  the  saddle.  They  are  fearless 
riders  ;  and  their  daring  feats  upon  unbroken 
colts  and  wild  horses  astonished  our  trappers, 


tough  accustomed  to  the  bold  riders  of  the 
prairies. 

A  Mexican  horseman  has  much  resemblance,  in 
many  points,  to  the  equestrians  of  Old  Spain,  and 
especially  to  the  vain-glorious  caballero  of  Anda- 
lusia. A  Mexican  dragoon,  for  instance,  is  repre- 
sented as  arrayed  in  a  round  blue  jacket,  with  red 
cuffs  and  collar  ;  blue  velvet  breeches,  unbuttoned 
at  the  knees  to  show  his  white  stockings  ;  bottinas 
of  deer  skin  ;  a  round-crowned  Andalusian  hat, 
and  his  hair  cued.  On  the  pommel  of  his  saddle 
he  carries  balanced  a  long  musket,  with  fox-skin 
round  the  lock.  He  is  cased  in  a  cuirass  of 
double-fold  deer-skin,  and  carries  a  bull's  hide 
shield  ;  he  is  forked  in  a  Moorish  saddle,  high  be- 
fore and  hehind  ;  his  feet  are  thrust  into  wooden 
box  stirrups,  of  Moorish  fashion,  and  a  tremen- 
dous pair  of  iron  spurs,  fastened  by  chains,  jingle 
at  his  heels.  Thus  equipped,  and  suitably  mount- 
ed, he  considers  himself  the  glory  of  California 
and  the  terror  of  the  universe. 

The  Californian  horsemen  seldom  ride  out  with- 
out the  lasso  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  long  coil  of  cord, 
with  a  slip  noose  ;  with  which  they  are  expert, 
almost  to  a  miracle.  The  lasso,  now  almost  en- 
tirely confined  to  Spanish  America,  is  said  to  be 
of  great  antiquity  ;  and  to  have  come  originally 
from  the  East.  It  was  used,  we  are  told,  by  a 
pastoral  people  of  Persian  descent  ;  of  whom 
eight  thousand  accompanied  the  army  of  Xerxes. 
By  the  Spanish  Americans  it  is  used  for  a  variety 
of  purposes  ;  and  among  others  for  hauling  wood. 
Without  dismounting,  they  cast  the  noose  round 
a  log,  and  thus  drag  it  to  their  houses.  The 
vaqueros,  or  Indian  cattle  drivers,  have  also 
learned  the  use  of  the  lasso  from  the  Spaniards, 
and  employ  it  to  catch  the  halt-wild  cattle  by 
throwing  it  round  their  horns. 

The  lasso  is  also  of  great  use  in  furnishing  the 
public  with  a  favorite  though  barbarous  sport ; 
the  combat  between  a  bear  and  a  wild  bujl.  For 
this  purpose,  three  or  four  horsemen  sally  forth 
to  some  wood  frequented  by  bears,  and,  deposit- 
ing the  carcass  of  a  bullock,  hide  themselves  in 
the  vicinity.  The  bears  are  soon  attracted  by  the 
bait.  As  soon  as  one,  fit  for  their  purpose, 
makes  his  appearance,  they  run  out,  and  with  the 
lasso,  dexterously  noose  him  by  either  leg.  After 
dragging  him  at  full  speed  until  he  is  fatigued, 
they  secure  him  more  effectually;  and  tying  him 
on  the  carcass  of  the  bullock,  draw  him  in  tri- 
umph to  the  scene  of  action.  By  this  time  he  is 
exasperated  to  such  frenzy  that  they  are  some- 
times obliged  to  throw  cold  water  on  him,  to 
moderate  his  fury  ;  and  dangerous  would  it  be  for 
horse  and  rider  were  he,  while  in  this  paroxysm, 
to  break  his  bonds. 

A  wild  bull,  of  the  fiercest  kind,  which  has  been 
caught  and  exasperated  in  the  same  manner,  is 
now  produced,  and  both  animals  are  turned  loose 
in  the  arena  of  a  small  amphitheatre.  The  mortal 
fight  begins  instantly  ;  and  always,  at  first,  to  the 
disadvantage  of  Bruin  ;  fatigued,  as  he  is,  by  his 
previous  rough  riding.  Roused,  at  length,  by  the 
repeated  goring  of  the  bull,  he  seizes  his  muzzle 
with  his  sharp  claws,  and  clinging  to  this  most 
sensitive  part,  causes  him  to  bellow  with  rage  and 
agony.  In  his  heat  and  fury,  the  bull  lols  out  his 
tongue  ;  this  is  instantly  clutched  by  the  bear  ; 
with  a  desperate  effort  he  overturns  his  huge  an- 
tagonist, and  then  dispatches  him  without  diffi- 
culty. 

Beside  this  diversion,  the  travellers  were  like- 
wise regaled  with  bull  fights,  in  the  genuine  style 


350 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


of  Old  Spain  ;  the  Californians  being  considered 
the  best  bull-fighters  in  the  Mexican  domin- 
ions. 

After  a  considerable  sojourn  at  Monterey,  spent 
in  these  very  edifying,  but  not  very  profitable 
amusements,  the  leader  of  this  vagabond  party  set 
out  with  his  comrades  on  his  return  journey.  In- 
stead of  retracing  their  steps  through  the  moun- 
tains, they  passed  round  their  southern  extremity, 
and,  crossing  a  range  of  low  hills,  found  them 
selves  in  the  sandy  plains  south  of  Ogden's 
River  ;  in  traversing  which,  they  again  suffered 
grievously  for  want  of  water. 

In  the  course  of  their  journey,  they  encountered 
a  party  of  Mexicans  in  pursuit  of  a  gang  of  na- 
tives, who  had  been  stealing  horses.  The  sav- 
ages of  this  part  of  Calilornia  are  represented  as 
extremely  poor,  and  armed  only  with  stone-point- 
ed arrows  ;  it  being  the  wise  policy  of  the  Span- 
iards not  to  furnish  them  with  firearms.  As  they 
find  it  difficult,  with  their  blunt  shafts,  to  kill  the 
wild  game  of  the  mountains,  they  occasionally 
supply  themselves  with  food,  by  entrapping  the 
Spanish  horses.  Driving  them  stealthily  into 
fastnesses  and  ravines,  they  slaughter  them  with- 
out difficulty,  and  dry  their  flesh  for  provisions. 
Some  they  carry  off,  to  irade  wtih  distant  tribes  ; 
and  in  this  way,  the  Spanish  horses  pass  from 
hand  to  hand  among  the  Indians,  until  they  even 
find  their  way  across  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

The  Mexicans  are  continually  on  the  alert,  to 
intercept  these  marauders  ;  but  the  Indians  are 
apt  to  outwit  them,  and  force  them  to  make  long 
and  wild  expeditions  in  pursuit  of  their  stolen 
horses. 

Two  of  the  Mexican  party  just  mentioned, 
joined  the  band  of  trappers,  and  proved  them- 
selves worthy  companions.  In  the  course  of  their 
journey  through  the  country  frequented  by  the 
poor  Root  Diggers,  there  seems  to  have  been  an 
emulation  between  them,  which  coud  inflict  the 
greatest  outrages  upon  the  natives.  The  trap- 
pers still  considered  them  in  the  light  of  danger- 
ous foes  ;  and  the  Mexicans,  very  probably, 
charged  them  with  the  sin  of  horse-stealing  ;  we 
have 'no  other  mode  of  accounting  for  the  in- 
famous barbarities  of  which,  according  to  their 
own  story,  they  were  guilty  ;  hunting  the  poor  In- 
dians like  wild  beasts,  and  killing  them  without 
mercy.  The  Mexicans  excelled  at  this  savage 
sport  ;  chasing  their  unfortunate  victims  at  full 
speed  ;  noosing  them  round  the  neck  with  their 
lassoes,  and  then  dragging  them  to  death  ! 

Such  are  the  scanty  details  of  this  most  dis- 
graceful expedition  ;  at  least,  such  are  all  that 
Captain  Bonneville  had  the  patience  to  collect  ; 
for  he  was  so  deeply  grieved  by  the  failure  of  his 
plans,  and  so  indignant  at  the  atrocities  related 
to  him,  that  he  turned,  with  disgust  and  horror, 
from  the  narrators.  Had  he  exerted  a  little  of  the 
Lynch  law  of  the  wilderness,  and  hanged  those 
dexterous  horsemen  m  their  own  lassoes,  it  would 
but  have  been  a  well-merited  and  salutary  act  of 
retributive  justice.  The  failure  of  this  expedition 
was  a  blow  to  his  pride,  and  a  still  greater  blow 
to  his  purse.  The  Great  Salt  Lake  still  remained 
unexplored  ;  at  the  same  time,  the  means  which 
had  been  furnished  so  liberally  to  fit  out  this 
favorite  expedition,  had  all  been  squandered  at 
Monterey  ;  and  the  peltries,  also,  which  had  been 
collected  on  the  way.  He  would  have  b*t  scanty 
returns,  therefore,  to  make  this  year,  to  his  asso- 
ciates in  the  United  States  ;  and  there  was  great 
danger  of  their  becoming  disheartened,  and  aban- 
doning the  enterprise. 


CHAPTER   XL. 

TRAVELLERS'  TALES— INDIAN  LURKERS — PROG- 
NOSTICS OF  BUCKEYE — SIGNS  AND  PORTENTS 
— THE  MEDICINE  WOLF— AN  ALARM— AN  AM- 
BUSH— THE  CAPTURED  PROVANT — TRIUMPH  OF 
BUCKEYE  —  ARRIVAL  OF  SUPPLIES  —  GRAND 
CAROUSE — ARRANGEMENTS  FOR  THE  YEAR- 
MR.  WYETH  AND  HIS  NEW-LEVIED  BAND. 

THE  horror  and  indignation  felt  by  Captain 
Bonneville  at  the  excesses  of  the  California!!  ad- 
venturers were  not  participated  by  his  men  ;  on 
the  contrary,  the  events  of  that  expedition  were 
favorite  themes  in  the  camp.  The  heroes  of 
Monterey  bore  the  palm  in  all  the  gossipings 
among  the  hunters.  Their  glowing  descriptions  of 
Spanish  bear  baits  and  bull-fights  especially,  were 
listened  to  with  intense  delight;  and  had  another 
expedition  to  California  been  proposed,  the  diffi- 
culty would  have  been  to  restrain  a  general 
eagerness  to  volunteer. 

The  captain  had  not  long  been  at  the  rendez- 
vous when  he  perceived,  by  various  signs,  that 
Indians  were  lurking  in  the  neighborhood.  It 
was  evident  that  the  Blackfoot  band,  which  he 
had  seen  when  on  his  march,  had  dogged  his 
party,  and  were  intent  on  mischief.  He  endeav- 
ored to  keep  his  camp  on  the  alert  ;  but  it  is  as 
difficult  to  maintain  discipline  among  trappers  at 
a  rendezvous  as  among  sailors  when  in  port. 

Buckeye,  the  Delaware  Indian,  was  scandalized 
at  this  heedlessness  of  the  hunters  when  an  enemy 
was  at  hand,  and  was  continually  preaching  up 
caution.  He  was  a  little  prone  to  play  the  proph- 
et, and  to  deal  in  signs  and  portents,  which  oc- 
casionally excited  the  merriment  of  his  white 
comrades.  He  was  a  great  dreamer,  and  believed 
in  charms  and  talismans,  or  medicines,  and 
could  foretell  the  approach  of  strangers  by  the 
howling  or  barking  of  the  small  prairie  wolf. 
This  animal,  being  driven  by  the  larger  wolves 
from  the  carcasses  left  on  the  hunting  grounds  by 
the  hunters,  follows  the  trail  of  the  fresh  meat 
carried  to  the  camp.  Here  the  smell  of  the  roast 
and  broiled,  mingling  with  every  breeze,  keeps 
them  hovering  about  the  neighborhood  ;  scenting 
every  blast,  turning  up  their  noses  like  hungry 
hounds,  and  testifying  their  pinching  hunger  by 
long  whining  howls  and  impatient  barkings. 
These  are  interpreted  by  the  superstitious  Indians 
into  warnings  that  strangers  are  at  hand  ;  and 
one  accidental  coincidence,  like  the  chance  fulfil- 
ment of  an  almanac  prediction,  is  sufficient  to 
cover  a  thousand  failures.  This  little,  whining, 
feast-smelling  animal  is,  therefore,  called  among 
Indians  the  "  medicine  wolf  ;"  and  such  was  one 
of  Buckeye's  infallible  oracles. 

One  morning  early,  the  soothsaying  Delaware 
appeared  with  a  gloomy  countenance.  His  mind 
was  full  of  dismal  presentiments,  whether  from 
mysterious  dreams,  or  the  intimations  cf  the 
medicine  wolf,  does  not  appear.  "  Danger,"  he 
said,  "  was  lurking  in  their  path,  and  there 
would  be  some  fighting  before  sunset."  He  was 
bantered  for  his  prophecy,  which  was  attributed 
to  his  having  supped  too  heartily,  and  been  visited 
by  bad  dreams.  In  the  course  of  the  morning,  a 
party  of  hunters  set  out  in  pursuit  of  buffalo,  tak- 
ing with  them  a  mule,  to  bring  home  the  meat 
they  should  procure.  They  had  been  some  few 
hours  absent,  when  they  came  clattering  at  full 
speed  into  camp,  giving  the  war  cry  of  Blackfeet  ! 
Blackfeet  !  Every  one  seized  his  weapon,  and 
ran  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  alarm.  It  appeared 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


351 


that  the  hunters,  as  they  were  returning  leisurely, 
leading  their  mule  well  laden  with  prime  pieces  of 
buffalo  meat,  passed  close  by  a  small  stream  over- 
hung with  trees,  about  two  miles  from  the  camp. 
Suddenly  a  party  of  Blackfeet,  who  lay  in  ambush 
along  the  thickets,  sprang  up  with  a  fearful  yell, 
and  discharged  a  volley  at  the  hunters.  The  lat- 
ter immediately  threw  themselves  flat  on  their 
horses,  put  them  to  their  speed,  and  never  paused 
to  look  behind,  until  they  found  themselves  in 
camp.  Fortunately,  they  had  escaped  without  a 
wound  ;  but  the  mule,  with  all  the  "  provant," 
had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  This  was 
a  loss,  as  well  as  an  insult,  not  to  be  borne. 
Every  man  sprang  to  horse,  and  with  rifle  in 
hand,  galloped  off  to  punish  the  Blackfeet,  and 
rescue  the  buffalo  beef.  They  came  too  late  ;  the 
marauders  were  off,  and  all  that  they  found  of 
their  mule  was  the  dents  of  his  hoofs,  as  he  had 
been  conveyed  off  at  a  round  trot,  bearing  his 
savory  cargo  to  the  hills,  to  furnish  the  scamper- 
ing savages  with  a  banquet  of  roast  meat  at  the 
expense  of  the  white  men. 

The  party  returned  to  camp,  balked  of  their  re- 
venge, but  still  more  grievously  balked  of  their 
supper.  Buckeye,  the  Delaware,  sat  smoking  by 
his  fire,  perfectly  composed.  As  the  hunters  re- 
lated the  particulars  ot  the  attack,  he  listened  in 
silence,  with  unruffled  countenance,  then  pointing 
to  the  west,  "  the  sun  has  not  yet  set,"  said  he  : 
"  Buckeye  did  not  dream  like  a  fool  !" 

All  present  now  recollected  the  prediction  of 
the  Indian  at  daybreak,  and  were  struck  with  what 
appeared  to  be  its  fulfilment.  They  called  to 
mind,  also,  a  long  catalogue  of  foregone  presenti- 
ments and  predictions  made  at  various  times  by 
the  Delaware,  and,  in  their  superstitious  credulity, 
began  to  consider  him  a  veritable  seer  ;  without 
thinking  how  natural  it  was  to  predict  danger,  and 
how  likely  to  have  the  prediction  verified  in  the 
present  instance,  when  various  signs  gave  evi- 
dence of  a  lurking  foe. 

The  various  bands  of  Captain  Bonneville's  com- 
pany had  now  been  assembled  for  some  time  at 
the  rendezvous  ;  they  had  had  their  fill  of  feast- 
ing, and  frolicking,  and  all  the  species  of  wild 
and  often  uncouth  merry-making,  which  invaria- 
bly take  place  on  these  occasions.  Their  horses, 
as  well  as  themselves,  had  recovered  from  past 
famine  and  fatigue,  and  were  again  fit  for  active 
service  ;  and  an  impatience  began  to  manifest 
itself  among  the  men  once  more  to  take  the  field, 
and  set  off  on  some  wandering  expedition. 

At  this  juncture  M.  Cerre  arrived  at  the  ren- 
dezvous at  the  head  of  a  supply  party,  bringing 
goods  and  equipments  from  the  States:  This 
active  leader,  it  will  be  recollected,  had  em- 
barked the  year  previously  in  skin-boats  on  the 
Bighorn,  freighted  with  the  year's  collection  of  pel- 
tries. He  had  met  with  misfortunes  in  the 
course  of  his  voyage  :  one  of  his  frail  barks  being 
upset,  and  part  of  the  furs  lost  or  damaged. 

The  arrival  of  the  supplies  gave  the  regular  fin- 
ish to  the  annual  revel.  A  grand  outbreak  of 
wild  debauch  ensued  among  the  mountaineers  ; 
drinking,  dancing,  swaggering,  gambling,  quar- 
relling, and  fighting.  Alcohol,  which,  from  its 
portable  qualities,  containing  the  greatest  quan- 
tity of  fiery  spirit  in  the  smallest  compass,  is  the 
only  liquor  carried  across  the  mountains,  is  the 
inflammatory  beverage  at  these  carousals,  and  is 
dealt  out  to  the  trappers  at  four  dollars  a  pint. 
\Vhen  inflamed  by  this  fiery  beverage,  they  cut  all 
kinds  of  mad  pranks  and  gambols,  and  sometimes 
burn  all  their  clothes  in  their  drunken  bravadoes. 


A  camp,  recovering  from  one  of  these  riotous 
revels,  presents  a  serio-comic  spectacle  ;  black 
eyes,  broken  heads,  lack-lustre  visages.  Many  ot 
the  trappers  have  squandered  in  one  drunken 
frolic  the  hard-earned  wages  of  a  year  ;  some 
have  run  in  debt,  and  must  toil  on  to  pay  for  past 
pleasure.  All  are  sated  with  this  deep  draught 
of  pleasure,  and  eager  to  commence  another  trap- 
ping campaign  ;  for  hardship  and  hard  work, 
spiced  with  the  stimulants  of  wild  adventures,  and 
topped  off  with  an  annual  frantic  carousal,  is  the 
lot  of  the  restless  trapper. 

The  captain  now  made  his  arrangements  for 
the  current  year.  Cerre"  and  Walker,  with  a  num- 
ber of  men  who  had  been  to  California,  were  to 
proceed  to  St.  Louis  with  the  packages  of  furs  col- 
lected during  the  past  year.  Another  party, 
headed  by  a  leader  named  Montero,  was  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  Crow  country,  trap  upon  its  various 
streams,  and  among  the  Black  Hills,  and  thence 
to  proceed  to  the  Arkansas,  where  he  was  to  go 
into  winter  quarters. 

The  captain  marked  out  for  himself  a  widely 
different  course.  He  intended  to  make  another 
expedition,  with  twenty-three  men  to  the  lower 
part  of  the  Columbia  River,  and  to  proceed  to  the 
valley  of  the  Multnomah  ;  after  wintering  in  those 
parts,  and  establishing  a  trade  with  those  tribes, 
among  whom  he  had  sojourned  on  his  first  visit, 
he  would  return  in  the  spring,  cross  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  join  Montero  and  his  party  in  the 
month  of  July,  at  the  rendezvous  ot  the  Arkansas  ; 
where  he  expected  to  receive  his  annual  supplies 
from  the  States. 

If  the  reader  will  cast  his  eye  upon  a  map,  he 
may  form  an  idea  of  the  contempt  for  distance 
which  a  man  acquires  in  this  vast  wilderness,  by 
noticing  the  extent  of  country  comprised  in  these 
projected  wanderings.  Just  as  the  different  par- 
ties were  about  to  set  out  on  the  3d  of  July,  on 
their  opposite  routes,  Captain  Bonneville  received 
intelligence  that  Wyeth,  the  indefatigable  leader 
of  the  salmon-fishing  enterprise,  who  had  parted 
with  him  about  a  year  previously  on  the  banks  of 
the  Bighorn,  to  descend  that  wild  river  in  a  bull 
boat,  was  near  at  hand,  with  a  new  levied  band 
of  hunters  and  trappers,  and  was  on  his  way  once 
more  to  the  banks  of  the  Columbia. 

As  we  take  much  interest  in  the  novel  enterprise 
of  this  "  eastern  man,"  and  are  pleased  with  his 
pushing,  and  persevering  spirit  ;  and  as  his  move- 
ments are  characteristic  of  life  in  the  wilderness, 
we  will,  with  the  reader's  permission,  while  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  is  breaking  up  his  camp  and  sad- 
dling his  horses,  step  back  a  year  in  time,  and 
a  few  hundred  miles  in  distance,  to  the  bank  of 
the  Bighorn,  and  launch  ourselves  with  Wyeth  in 
his  bull  boat;  and  though  his  adventurous  voyage 
will  take  us  many  hundreds  of  miles  further  down 
wild  and  wandering  rivers  ;  yet  such  is  the  magic 
power  of  the  pen,  that  we  promise  to  bring  the 
reader  safe  to  Bear  River  valley,  by  the  time  the 
last  horse  is  saddled. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

A   VOYAGE   IN   A   BULL  BOAT. 

IT  was  about  the  middle  of  August  (1833)  that 
Mr.  Nathaniel  J.  Wyeth,  as  the  reader  may  recol- 
lect, launched  his  bull  boat  at  the  foot  of  the 
rapids  of  the  Bighorn,  and  departed  in  advance  of 
the  parties  of  Campbell  and  Captain  Bonneville. 


352 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


His  boat  was  made  of  three  buffalo  skins, 
stretched  on  a  light  frame,  stitched  together,  and 
the  seams  paid  with  elk  tallow  and  ashes.  It 
was  eighteen  feet  long,  and  about  five  feet  six 
inches  wide,  sharp  at  each  end,  with  a  round  bot- 
tom, and  drew  about  a  foot  and  a  half  of  water — 
a  depth  too  great  tor  these  upper  rivers,  which 
abound  with  shallows  and  sand-bars.  The  crew 
consisted  of  two  half-breeds,  who  claimed  to  be 
white  men,  though  a  mixture  of  the  French  Creole 
and  the  Shawnee  and  Potawattomie.  They 
claimed,  moreover,  to  be  thorough  mountaineers, 
and  first-rate  hunters — the  common  boast  of  these 
vagabonds  of  the  wilderness.  Besides  these, 
there  was  a  Nez  Perce  lad  of  eighteen  years  of 
age,  a  kind  of  servant  of  all  work,  whose  great 
aim,  like  all  Indian  servants,  was  to  do  as  little 
work  as  possible  ;  there  was,  moreover,  a  half- 
breed  boy,  of  thirteen,  named  Baptiste,  son  of  a 
Hudson's  Bay  trader  by  a  Flathead  beauty  ;  who 
was  travelling  with  Wyeth  to  see  the  world  and 
complete  his  education.  Add  to  these,  Mr.  Mil- 
ton Sublette,  who  went  as  passenger,  and  we  have 
the  crew  of  the  little  bull  boat  complete. 

It  certainly  was  a  slight  armament  with  which 
to  run  the  gauntlet  through  countries  swarming 
with  hostile  hordes,  and  a  slight  bark  to  navigate 
these  endless  rivers,  tossing  and  pitching  down 
rapids,  running  on  snags  and  bumping  on  sand- 
bars ;  such,  however,  are  the  cockle-shells  with 
which  these  hardy  rovers  of  the  wilderness  will 
attempt  the  wildest  streams  ;  and  it  is  surprising 
what  rough  shocks  and  thumps  these  boats  will 
endure,  and  what  vicissitudes  they  will  live 
through.  Their  duration,  however,  is  but  limit- 
ed ;  they  require  frequently  to  be  hauled  out  of 
the  water  and  dried,  to  prevent  the  hides  from 
becoming  water-soaked  ;  and  they  eventually  rot 
and  go  to  pieces. 

The  course  of  the  river  was  a  little  to  the  north 
of  east ;  it  ran  about  five  miles  an  hour,  over  a 
gravelly  bottom.  The  banks  were  generally  allu- 
vial, and  thickly  grown  with  cotton-wood  trees, 
intermingled  occasionally  with  ash  and  plum 
trees.  Now  and  then  limestone  cliffs  and 
promontories  advanced  upon  the  river,  making 
picturesque  headlands.  Beyond  the  woody  bor- 
ders rose  ranges  of  naked  hills. 

Milton  Sublette  was  the  Pelorus  of  this  adven- 
turous bark  ;  being  somewhat  experienced  in  this 
wild  kind  of  navigation.  It  required  all  his  atten- 
tion and  skill,  however,  to  pilot  her  clear  of  sand- 
bars and  snags  or  sunken  trees.  There  was 
often,  too,  a  perplexity  of  choice,  where  the  river 
branched  into  various  channels,  among  clusters 
of  islands  ;  and  occasionally  the  voyagers  found 
themselves  aground  and  had  to  turn  back. 

It  was  necessary,  also,  to  keep  a  wary  eye  upon 
the  land.,  tor  they  were  passing  through  the  heart 
of  the  Crow  country,  and  were  continually  in 
reach  of  any  ambush  that  might  be  lurking  on 
shore.  The  most  formidable  foes  that  they  saw, 
however,  were  three  grizzly  bears,  quietly  prom- 
enading along  the  bank,  who  seemed  to  gaze  at 
them  with  surprise  as  they  glided  by.  Herds  of 
buffalo,  also,  were  moving  about,  or  lying  on  the 
ground,  like  cattle  in  a  pasture  ;  excepting  such  in- 
habitants as  these,  a  perfect  solitude  reigned  over 
the  land.  There  was  no  sign  of  human  habita- 
tion ;  for  the  Crows,  as  we  have  already  shown, 
are  a  wandering  people,  a  race  of  hunters  and 
warriors,  who  live  in  tents  and  on  horseback,  and 
are  continually  on  the  move. 

At  night  they  landed,  hauled  up  their  boat  to 
dry,  pitched  their  tent,  and  made  a  rousing  fire. 


Then,  as  it  was  the  first  evening  of  their  voyage, 
they  indulged  in  a  regale,  relishing  their  buffalo 
beef  with  inspiring  alcohol  ;  after  which,  they  slept 
soundly,  without  dreaming  of  Crows  or  Black- 
feet.  Early  in  the  morning,  they  again  launched 
the  boat  and  committed  themselves  to  the 
stream. 

In  this  way  they  voyaged  for  two  days  without 
any  material  occurrence,  excepting  a  severe  thun- 
der storm,  which  compelled  them  to  put  to  shore, 
and  wait  until  it  was  passed.  On  the  third  morn- 
ing they  descried  some  persons  at  a  distance  on 
the  river  bank.  As  they  were  now,  by  calcuation, 
at  no  great  distance  from  Fort  Cass,  a  trading 
post  of  the  American  Fur  Company,  they  supposed 
these  might  be  some  of  its  people.  A  nearer  ap- 
proach showed  them  to  be  Indians.  Descrying  a 
woman  apart  from  the  rest,  they  landed  and  ac- 
costed her.  She  informed  them  that  the  main 
force  of  the  Crow  nation,  consisting  ot  five  bands, 
under  their  several  chieis,  were  but  about  two  or 
three  miles  below,  on  their  way  up  along  the 
river.  This  was  unpleasant  tidings,  but  to  retreat 
was  impossible,  and  the  river  afforded  no  hiding 
place.  They  continued  forward,  therefore,  trust- 
ing that,  as  Fort  Cass  was  so  near  at  hand,  the 
Crows  might  refrain  from  any  depredations. 

Floating  down  about  two  miles  further,  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  first  band,  scattered  along 
the  river  bank,  all  well  mounted  ;  some  armed 
with  guns,  others  with  bows  and  arrows,  and  a 
few  with  lances.  They  made  a  wildly  pictur- 
esque appearance,  managing  their  horses  with 
their  accustomed  dexterity  and  grace.  Nothing 
can  be  more  spirited  than  a  band  of  Crow  cava- 
liers. They  are  a  fine  race  of  men,  averaging  six 
feet  in  height,  lithe  and  active,  with  hawks'  eyes 
and  Roman  noses.  The  latter  feature  is  common 
to  the  Indians  on  the  east  side  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  ;  those  on  the  western  side  have  gen- 
erally straight  or  flat  noses. 

Wyeth  would  fain  have  slipped  by  this  caval- 
cade unnoticed  ;  but  the  river,  at  this  place,  was 
not  more  than  ninety  yards  across  ;  he  was  per- 
ceived, therefore,  and  hailed  by  the  vagabond  war- 
riors, and,  we  presume,  in  no  very  choice  lan- 
guage ;  for,  among  their  other  accomplishments, 
the  Crows  are  famed  for  possessing  a  Billingsgate 
vocabulary  of  unrivalled  opulence,  and  for  being 
by  no  means  sparing  of  it  whenever  an  occasion 
offers.  Indeed,  though  Indians  are  generally 
very  lofty,  rhetorical,  and  figurative  in  their  lan- 
guage at  all  great  talks,  and  high  ceremonials, 
yet,  if  trappers  and  traders  may  be  believed,  they 
are  the  most  unsavory  vagabonds  in  their  ordinary 
colloquies  ;  they  make  no  hesitation  to  call  a  spade 
a  spade  ;  and  when  they  once  undertake  to  call 
hard  names,  the  famous  pot  and  kettle,  of  vitu- 
perating memory,  are  not  to  be  compared  with 
them  for  scurrility  of  epithet. 

To  escape  the  infliction  of  any  compliments  of 
the  kind,  or  the  launching,  peradventure,  of  more 
dangerous  missiles,  Wyeth  landed  with  the  best 
grace  in  his  power,  and  approached  the  chief  of 
the  band.  It  was  Arapooish,  the  quondam  friend 
of  Rose  the  outlaw,  and  one  whom  we  have 
already  mentioned  as  being  anxious  to  promote 
a  friendly  intercourse  between  his  tribe  and  the 
white  men.  He  was  a  tall,  stout  man,  ol  good 
presence,  and  received  the  voyagers  very  gra- 
ciously. His  people,  too,  thronged  around  them, 
and  were  officiously  attentive  after  the  Crow 
fashion.  One  took  a  great  fancy  to  Baptiste  the 
Flathead  boy,  and  a  still  greater  fancy  to  a  ring 
on  his  finger,  which  he  transposed  to  his  own 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


353 


with  surprising  dexterity,  and  then  disappeared 
with  a  quick  step  among  the  crowd. 

Another  was  no  less  pleased  with  the  Nez  Perce" 
lad,  and  nothing  would  do  but  he  must  exchange 
knives  with  him  ;  drawing  a  new  knife  out  of  the 
Nez  Percy's  scabbard,  and  putting  an  old  one  in 
its  place.  Another  stepped  up  and  replaced  this 
old  knife  with  one  still  older,  and  a-  third  helped 
himself  to  knife,  scabbard  and  all.  It  was  with 
much  difficulty  that  Wyeth  and  his  compan- 
ions extricated  themselves  from  the  clutches  of 
these  officious  Crows  before  they  were  entirely 
plucked. 

Falling  down  the  river  a  little  further,  they 
came  in  sight  ot  the  second  band,  and  sheered  to 
the  opposite  side,  with  the  intention  of  passing 
them.  The  Crows  were  not  to  be  evaded.  Some 
pointed  their  guns  at  the  boat,  and  threatened  to 
fire  ;  others  stripped,  plunged  into  the  stream, 
and  came  swimming  across.  Making  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  Wyeth  threw  a  cord  to  the  first  that 
came  within  reach,  as  if  he  wished  to  be  drawn 
to  the  shore. 

In  this  way  he  was  overhauled  by  every  band, 
and  by  the  time  he  and  his  people  came  out  of  the 
busy  hands  of  the  last,  they  were  eased  ot  most  of 
their  superfluities.  Nothing,  in  all  probability, 
but  the  proximity  of  the  American  trading  post, 
kept  these  land  pirates  from  making  a  good  prize 
ot  the  bull  boat  and  all  its  contents. 

These  bands  were  in  full  march,  equipped  for 
war,  and  evidently  full  of  mischief.  They  were, 
in  fact,  the  very  bands  that  overrun  the  land  in 
the  autumn  of  1833  ;  partly  robbed  Fitzpatrick  of 
his  horses  and  effects  ;  hunted  ;ind  harassed  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  and  his  people  ;  broke  up  their 
trapping  campaigns,  and,  in  a  word,  drove  them 
all  out  of  the  Crow  country.  It  has  been  suspect- 
ed that  they  were  set  on  to  these  pranks  by  some 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  anxious  to  defeat 
the  plans  of  their  rivals  of  the  Rocky  Mountain 
Company  ;  for  at  this  time,  their  competition  was 
at  its  height,  and  the  trade  of  the  Crow  country 
was  a  great  object  of  rivalry.  What  makes  this 
the  more  probable,  is,  that  the  Crows  in  their 
depredation  seemed  by  no  means  bloodthirsty, 
but  intent  chiefly  on  robbing  the  parties  of  their 
traps  and  horses,  thereby  disabling  them  from 
prosecuting  their  hunting. 

We  should  observe  that  this  year,  the  Rocky 
Mountain  Company  were  pushing  their  way  up 
the  rivers,  and  establishing  rival  posts  near  those 
of  the  American  Company  ;  and  that,  at  the  very 
time  of  which  we  are  speaking,  Captain  Sublette 
was  ascending  the  Yellowstone  with  a  keel  boat, 
laden  with  supplies  ;  so  that  there  was  every 
prospect  of  this  eager  rivalship  being  carried  to 
extremities. 

The  last  band  of  Crow  warriors  had  scarce  dis- 
appeared in  the  cloud  of  dust  they  had  raised, 
when  our  voyagers  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
river,  and  glided  into  the  current  of  the  Yellow- 
stone. Turning  down  this  stream,  they  made  for 
Fort  Cass,  which  is  situated  on  the  right  bank, 
about  three  miles  below  the  Bighorn.  On  the  op- 
posite side  they  beheld  a  party  of  thirty-one  sav- 
ages, which  they  soon  ascertained  to  be  Blackfeet. 
The  width  of  the  river  enabled  them  to  keep  at  a 
sufficient  distance,  and  they  soon  landed  at  Fort 
Cass.  This  was  a  mere  fortification  against  In- 
dians ;  being  a  stockade  of  about  one  hundred 
and  thirty  feet  square,  with  two  bastions  at  the 
extreme  corners.  M'Tulloch,  an  agent  of  the 
American  Company,  was  stationed  there  with 
twenty  men  ;  two  boats  of  fifteen  tons  burden, 


were  lying  here  ;  but  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  a  steamboat  can  come  up  to  the  fort. 

They  had  scarcely  arrived,  when  the  Blackfeet 
warriors  made  their  appearance  on  the  opposite 
bank,  displaying  two  American  flags  in  token  of 
amity.  They  plunged  into  the  river,  swam 
across,  and  were  kindly  received  at  the  fort. 
They  were  some  of  the  very  men  who  had  been 
engaged,  the  year  previously,  in  the  battle  at 
Pierre's  Hole,  and  a  fierce-looking  set  of  fellows 
they  were  ;  tall  and  hawk-nosed,  and  very  much 
resembling  the  Crows.  They  professed  to  be  on 
an  amicable  errand,  to  make  peace  with  the 
Crows,  and  set  off  in  all  haste,  before  night,  to 
overtake  them.  Wyeth  predicted  that  they  would 
lose  their  scalps  ;  for  he  had  heard  the  Crows  de- 
nounce vengeance  on  them,  for  having  murdered 
two  of  their  warriors  who  had  ventured  amcng 
them  on  the  faith  of  a  treaty  of  peace.  It  is  proba- 
ble, however,  that  this  pacific  errand  was  all  a 
pretence,  and  that  the  real  object  of  the  Blackfeet 
braves  was  to  hang  about  the  skirts  of  the  Crow 
bands,  steal  their  horses,  and  take  the  scalps  of 
stragglers. 

At  Fort  Cass,  Mr.  Wyeth  disposed  of  some  pack- 
ages of  beaver,  and  a  quantity  of  buffalo  robes. 
On  the  following  morning  (August  i8th),  he  once 
more  launched  his  bull  boat,  and  proceeded  down 
the  Yellowstone,  which  inclined  in  an  east-north- 
east direction.  The  river  had  alluvial  bottoms, 
fringed  with  great  quantities  of  the  sweet  cotton- 
wood,  and  interrupted  occasionally  by  "  bluffs" 
of  sandstone.  The  current  occasionally  brings 
down  fragments  of  granite  and  porphyry. 

In  the  course  of  the  clay,  they  saw  something 
moving  on  the  bank'  among  the  trees,  which  they 
mistook  for  game  of  some  kind  ;  and,  being  in  want 
of  provisions,  pulled  toward  shore.  They  discov- 
ered, just  in  time,  a  party  of  Blackfeet,  lurking  in 
the  thickets,  and  sheered,  with  all  speed,  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river. 

After  a  time,  they  came  in  sight  of  a  gang  of 
elk.  Wyeth  was  immediately  for  pursuing  them, 
rifle  in  hand,  but  saw  evident  signs  of  dissatisfac- 
tion in  his  half-breed  hunters  ;  who  considered 
him  as  trenching  upon  their  province,  and  med- 
dling with  things  quite  above  his  capacity  ;  for 
these  veterans  of  the  wilderness  are  exceedingly 
pragmatical  on  points  of  venery  and  woodcraft, 
and  tenacious  of  their  superiority  ;  looking  down 
with  infinite  contempt  upon  all  raw  beginners. 
The  two  worthies,  therefore,  sallied  forth  them- 
selves, but  after  a  time,  returned  empty-handed. 
They  laid  the  blame,  .however,  entirely  on  their 
guns  ;  two  miserable  old  pieces  with  flint  locks, 
which,  with  all  their  picking  and  hammering, 
were  continually  apt  to  miss  fire.  These  great 
boasters  of  the  wilderness,  however,  are  very 
often  exceeding  bad  shots,  and  fortunate  it  is  for 
them  when  they  have  old  flint  guns  to  bear  the 
flame. 

The  next  day  they  passed  where  a  great  herd  of 
buffalo  were  bellowing  on  a  prairie.  Again  the 
Castor  and  Pollux  of  the  wilderness  sallied  forth, 
and  again  their  flint  guns  were  at  fault,  and  missed 
fire,  and  nothing  went  off  but  the  buffalo.  Wyeth 
now  found  there  was  danger  of  losing  his  dinner 
if  he  depended  upon  his  hunters  ;  he  took  rifle  in 
hand,  therefore,  and  went  forth  himself.  In  the 
course  of  an  hour  he  returned  laden  with  buffalo 
meat,  to  the  great  mortifiation  of  the  two  regular 
hunters,  who  were  annoyed  at  being  eclipsed  by 
a  greenhorn. 

All  hands  now  set  to  work  to  prepare  the  mid- 
day repast.  A  fire  was  made  under  an  immense 


354 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


cotton-wood  tree,  that  overshadowed  a  beautiful 
piece  of  meadow  land  ;  rich  morsels  of  buffalo 
hump  were  soon  roasting  before  it  ;  in  a  hearty 
and  prolonged  repast,  the  two  unsuccessful  hunt- 
ers gradually  recovered  from  their  mortification; 
threatened  to  discard  their  old  flint  guns  as  soon 
as  they  should  reach  the  settlements,  and  boasted 
more  than  ever  of  the  wonderful  shots  they  had 
made,  when  they  had  guns  that  never  missed 
fire. 

Having  hauled  up  their  boat  to  dry  in  the  sun, 
previous  to  making  their  repast,  the  voyagers  now 
set  it  once  more  afloat,  and  proceeded  on  their 
way.  They  had  constructed  a  sail  out  of  their  old 
tent,  which  they  hoisted  whenever  the  wind  was 
favorable,  and  thus  skimmed  along  down  the 
stream.  Their  voyage  was  pleasant,  notwith- 
standing the  perils  by  sea  and  land,  with  which 
they  were  environed.  Whenever  they  could,  they 
encamped  on  islands  for  the  greater  security.  If 
on  tht;  mainland,  and  in  a  dangerous  neighbor- 
hood, they  would  shift  their  camp  after  dark,  leav- 
ing their  fire  burning  dropping  down  the  river  to 
some  distance,  and  making  no  fire  at  their  second 
encampment.  Sometimes  they  would  float  all 
night  with  the  current  ;  one  keeping  watch  and 
steering  while  the  rest  slept  :  in  such  case,  they 
would  haul  their  boat  on  shore,  at  noon  of  the  fol- 
lowing day  to  dry  ;  for  notwithstanding  every 
precaution,  she  was  gradually  getting  water- 
soaked  and  rotten. 

There  was  something  pleasingly  solemn  and 
mysterious  in  thus  floating  down  these  wild  rivers 
at  night.  The  purity  of  the  atmosphere  in  these 
elevated  regions  gave  additional  splendor  to  the 
stars,  and  heightened  the  magnificence  of  the 
firmament.  Tne  occasional  rush  and  laving  of 
the  waters;  the  vague  sounds  from  the  surround- 
ing wilderness  ;  the  dreary  howl,  or  rather  whine 
of  wolves  from  the  plains  ;  the  low  grunting  and 
bellowing  of  the  buffalo,  and  the  shrill  neighing 
of  the  elk,  struck  the  ear  with  an  effect  unknown 
in  the  daytime. 

The  two  knowing  hunters  had  scarcely  recov- 
ered from  one  mortification  when  they  were  fated 
to  experience  another.  As  the  boat  was  gliding 
swiftly  round  a  low  promontory,  thinly  covered 
with  trees,  one  of  them  gave  the  alarm  of  Indians. 
The  boat  was  instantly  shoved  from  shore  and 
every  one  caught  up  his  rifle.  "  Where  are 
they  ?"  cried  Wyeth. 

"  There — there  !  riding  on  horseback  !"  cried 
one  of  the  hunters. 

"  Yes  ;  with  white  scarfs  on  !>!  cried  the  other. 

Wyeth  looked  in  the  direction  they  pointed,  but 
descried  nothing  but  two  bald  eagles,  perched  on 
a  low  dry  branch  beyond  the  thickets,  and  seem- 
ing, from  the  rapid  motion  of  the  boat,  to  be  mov- 
ing swiftly  in  an  opposite  direction.  The  de- 
tection of  this  blunder  in  the  two  veterans,  who 
prided  themselves  on  the  sureness  and  quickness 
of  their  sight,  produced  a  hearty  laugh  at  their 
expense,  and  put  an  end  to  their  vauntings. 

The  Yellowstone,  above  the  confluence  of  the 
Bighorn,  is  a  clear  stream  ;  its  waters  were  now 
gradually  growing  turbid,  and  assuming  the  yel- 
low clay  color  of  the  Missouri.  The  current  was 
about  four  miles  an  hour,  with  occasional  rapids  ; 
some  of  them  dangerous,  but  the  voyagers  passed 
them  all  without  accident.  The  banks  of  the 
river  were  in  many  places  precipitous  with  strata 
of  bituminous  coal. 

They  now  entered  a  region  abounding  with 
buffalo  —  that  ever-journeying  animal,  which 
moves  in  countless  droves  from  point  to  point  of 


the  vast  wilderness  ;  traversing  plains,  pouring 
through  the  intricate  defiles  of  mountains,  swim- 
ming rivers,  ever  on  the  move,  guided  on  its 
boundless  migrations  by  some  traditionary  knowl- 
edge, like  the  finny  tribes  of  the  ocean,  which, 
at  certain  seasons,  find  their  mysterious  paths 
across  the  deep,  and  revisit  the  remotest  shores. 

These  great  migratory  herds  of  buffalo  have 
their  hereditary  paths  and  highways,  worn  deep 
through  the  country,  and  making  for  the  sufesl 
passes  of  the  mountains,  and  the  most  practicable 
fords  of  the  rivers.  When  once  a  great  column  is 
in  full  career,  it  goes  straight  forward,  regardless 
of  all  obstacles  ;  those  in  front  being  impelled  by 
the  moving  mass  behind.  At  such  times  they  will 
break  through  a  camp,  trampling  down  everything 
in  their  course. 

It  was  the  lot  of  the  voyagers,  one  night,  to  en- 
camp at  one  of  these  buffalo  landing  places,  and 
exactly  on  the  trail.  They  had  not  been  long 
asleep,  when  they  were  awakened  by  a  great  bel- 
lowing, and  tramping,  and  the  rush,  and  splash, 
and  snorting  of  animals  in  the  river.  They  had 
just  time  to  ascertain  that  a  buffalo  army  was  en- 
tering the  river  on  the  opposite  side,  and  making 
toward  the  landing  place.  With  all  haste  they 
moved  their  boat  and  shifted  their  camp,  by  which 
time  the  head  of  the  column  had  reached  the 
shore,  and  came  pressing  up  the  bank. 

It  was  a  singular  spectacle,  by  the  uncertain 
moonlight,  to  behold  this  countless  throng  mak- 
ing their  way  across  the  river,  blowing,  and  bel- 
lowing, and  splashing.  Sometimes  they  pass  in 
such  dense  and  continuous  column  as  to  form  a 
temporary  dam  across  the  river,  the  waters  of 
which  rise  and  rush  over  their  backs,  or  between 
their  squadrons.  The  roaring  and  rushing  sound 
of  one  of  these  vast  herds  crossing  a  river,  may 
sometimes  in  a  still  night,  be  heard  for  miles. 

The  voyagers  now  had  game  in  profusion. 
They  could  kill  as  many  buffalo  as  they  pleased, 
and,  occasionally,  were  wanton  in  their  havoc  ; 
especially  among  scattered  herds,  that  came 
swimming  near  the  boat.  On  one  occasion,  an 
old  buffalo  bull  approached  so  near  that  the  half- 
breeds  must  fain  try  to  noose  him  as  they  would  a 
wild  horse.  The  noose  was  successfully  thrown 
around  his  head,  and  secured  him  by  the  horns, 
and  they  now  promised  themselves  ample  sport. 
The  buffalo  made  a  prodigious  turmoil  in  the 
water,  bellowing,  and  blowing,  and  floundering  ; 
and  they  all  floated  down  the  stream  together.  At 
length  he  found  foothold  on  a  sandbar,  and  taking 
to  his  heels,  whirled  the  boat  after  him,  like  a  whale 
when  harpooned  ;  so  that  the  hunters  were  obliged 
to  cast  off  their  rope,  with  which  strange  head- 
gear the  venerable  bull  made  off  to  the  prairies. 

On  the  24th  of  August,  the  bull  boat  emerged, 
with  its  adventurous  crew,  into  the  broad  bosom 
of  the  mighty  Missouri.  Here,  about  six  mlies 
above  the  mouth  of  the  Yellowstone,  the  voyagers 
landed  at  Fort  Union,  the  distributing  post  of  the 
American  Fur  Company  in  the  western  country. 
It  was  a  stockaded  fortress,  about  two  hundred 
and  twenty  feet  square,  pleasantly  situated  on  a 
high  bank.  Here  they  were  hospitably  enter- 
tained by  Mr.  M'Kenzie,  the  superintendent,  and 
remained  with  him  three  days,  enjoying  the  un- 
usual luxuries  of  bread,  butter,  milk, and  cheese, 
for  the  fort  was  well  supplied  with  domestic  cat- 
tle, though  it  had  no  garden.  The  atmosphere  of 
these  elevated  regions  is  said  to  be  too  dry  for  the 
culture  of  vegetables  ;  yet  the  voyagers,  in  coming 
down  the  Yellowstone,  had  met  with  plums, 
grapes,  cherries,  and  currants,  and  had  observed 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


ash  and  elm  trees.  Where  these  grow  the  climate 
cannot  be  incompatible  with  gardening. 

At  Fort  Union,  Wyeth  met  with  a  melancholy 
memento  of  one  of  his  men.  This  was  a  powder- 
flask,  which  a  clerk  had  purchased  from  a  Black- 
foot  warrior.  It  bore  the  initials  of  poor  More, 
the  unfortunate  youth  murdered  the  year  previous- 
ly, at  Jackson's  Hole,  by  the  Blackfeet,  and  whose 
bones  had  been  subsequently  found  by  Captain 
Bonneville.  This  flask  had  either  been  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  of  the  tribe,  or,  perhaps,  had 
been  brought  to  the  fort  by  the  very  savage  who 
slew  him. 

As  the  bull  boat  was  now  nearly  worn  out,  and 
altogether  unfit  for  the  broader  and  more  turbu- 
lent stream  of  the  Missouri,  it  was  given  up,  and 
a  canoe  of  cotton-wood,  abou^  twenty  feet  long, 
fabricated  by  the  Blackfeet,  was  purchased  to  sup- 
ply its  place.  In  this  Wyeth  hoisted  his  sail,  and 
bidding  adieu  to  the  hospitable  superintendent  of 
Fort  Union,  turned  his  prow  to  the  east,  and  set 
off  down  the  Missouri. 

He  had  not  proceeded  many  hours,  before,  in 
the  evening,  he  came  to  a  large  keel  boat  at 
anchor.  It  proved  to  be  the  boat  of  Captain 
William  Sublette,  freighted  with  munitions  for 
carrying  on  a  powerful  opposition  to  the  Ameri- 
can Fur  Company.  The  voyagers  went  on  board, 
where  they  were  treated  with  the  hearty  hos- 
pitality of  the  wilderness,  and  passed  a  social 
evening,  talking  over  past  scenes  and  adventures, 
and  especially  the  memorable  fight  at  Pierre's 
Hole. 

Here  Milton  Sublette  determined  to  give  up  fur- 
ther voyaging  in  the  canoe,  and  remain  with  his 
brother  ;  accordingly,  in  the  morning,  the  fellow- 
voyagers  took  kind  leave  of  each  other,  and  Wyeth 
continued  on  his  course.  There  was  now  no  one 
on  board  of  his  boat  that  had  ever  voyaged  on  the 
Missouri  ;  it  was,  however,  all  plain  sailing  down 
the  stream,  without  any  chance  of  missing  the 
way. 

All  day  the  voyagers  pulled  gently  along,  and 
landed  in  the  evening  and  supped  ;  then  re-em- 
barking, they  suffered  the  canoe  to  float  down 
with  the  current  ;  taking  turns  to  watch  and 
sleep.  The  night  was  calm  and  serene  ;  the  elk 
kept  up  a  continual  whinnying  or  squealing,  be- 
ing the  commencement  of  the  season  when  they 
are  in  heat.  In  the  midst  of  the  night  the  canoe 
struck  on  a  sand-bar,  and  all  hands  were  roused 
by  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  wild  waters,  which 
broke  around  her.  They  were  all  obliged  to  jump 
overboard,  and  work  hard  to  get  her  off,  which 
was  accomplished  with  much  difficulty. 

In  the  course  of  the  following  day  they  saw 
three  grizzly  bears  at  different  times  along  the 
bank.  The  last  one  was  on  a  point  of  land,  and 
was  evidently  making  for  the  river,  to  swim 
across.  The  two  half-breed  hunters  were  now 
eager  to  repeat  the  manoeuvre  of  the  noose  ; 
promising  to  entrap  Bruin,  and  have  rare  sport  in 
strangling  and  drowning  him.  Their  only  fear 
was,  that  he  might  take  fright  and  return  to  land 
before  they  could  get  between  him  and  the  shore. 
Holding  back,  therefore,  until  he  was  fairly  com- 
mitted in  the  centre  of  the  stream,  they  then  pull- 
ed forward  with  might  and  main,  so  as  to  cut  off 
his  retreat,  and  take  him  in  the  rear.  One  of  the 
worthies  stationed  himself  in  the  bow,  with  the 
cord  and  slip-noose,  the  other,  with  the  Nez 
Perce",  managed  the  paddles.  There  was  nothing 
further  from  the  thoughts  of  honest  Bruin,  how- 
ever, than  to  beat  a  retreat.  Just  as  the  canoe 
was  drawing  near,  he  turned  suddenly  round- and 


made  for  it,  with  a  horrible  snarl  and  a  tremen- 
dous show  of  teeth.  The  affrighted  hunter  called 
to  his  comrades  to  paddle  off.  Scarce  had  they 
turned  the  boat  when  the  bear  laid  his  enormous 
claws  on  the  gunwale,  and  attempted  to  get  on 
board.  The  canoe  was  nearly  overturned,  and  a 
deluge  of  water  came  pouring  over  the  gunwale. 
All  was  clamor,  terror,  and  confusion.  Every 
one  bawled  out — the  bear  roared  and  snarled- 
one  caught  up  a  gun  ;  but  water  had  rendered  it 
useless.  Others  handled  their  paddles  more 
effectually,  and  beating  old  Bruin  about  the  head 
and  claws,  obliged  him  to  relinquish  his  hold. 
They  now  plied  their  paddles  with  might  and 
main,  the  bear  made  the  best  of  his  way  to  shore, 
and  so  ended  the  second  exploit  of  the  noose  ;  the 
hunters  determining  to  have  no  more  naval  con- 
tests with  grizzly  bears. 

The  voyagers  were  now  out  of  the  range  of 
Crows  and  Blackfeet  ;  but  they  were  approaching 
the  country  of  the  Rees,  or  Arickaras  ;  a  tribe  no 
less  dangerous  ;  and  who  were,  generally,  hostile 
to  small  parties. 

In  passing  through  their  country,  Wyeth  laid 
by  all  day,  and  drifted  quietly  down  the  river  at 
night.  In  this  way  he  passed  on,  until  he  sup- 
posed himself  safely  through  the  region  of  danger  ; 
when  he  resumed  his  voyaging  in  the  open  day. 
On  the  3d  of  September  he  had  landed,  at  mid- 
day, to  dine  ;  and  while  some  were  making  a  fire, 
one  of  the  hunters  mounted  a  high  bank  to  look 
out  for  game.  He  had  scarce  glanced  his  eye 
round,  when  he  perceived  horses  grazing  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river.  Crouching  clown  he 
slunk  back  to  the  camp,  and  reported  what  he 
had  seen.  On  further  reconnoitring,  the  voya- 
gers counted  twenty-one  lodges  ;  and,  from  the 
number  of  horses,  computed  that  there  must  be 
nearly  a  hundred  Indians  encamped  there.  They 
now  drew  their  boat,  with  all  speed  and  caution, 
into  a  thicket  of  water  willows,  and  remained 
closely  concealed  all  day.  As  soon  as  the  night 
closed  in  they  re-embarked.  The  moon  would 
rise  early  ;  so  that  they  had  but  about  two  hours 
of  darkness  to  get  past  the  camp.  The  night, 
however,  was  cloudy,  with  a  blustering  wind. 
Silently,  and  with  muffled  oars,  they  glided  down 
the  river,  keeping  close  under  the  shore  opposite 
to  the  camp  ;  watching  its  various  lodges  and 
fires,  and  the  dark  forms  passing  to  and  fro  be- 
tween them.  Suddenly,  on  turning  a  point  of 
land,  they  found  themselves  close  upon  a  camp  on 
their  own  side  of  the  river.  It  appeared  that  not 
more  than  one  half  of  the  band  had  crossed. 
They  were  within  a  few  yards  of  the  shore  ;  they 
saw  distinctly  the  savages — some  standing,  some 
lying  round  the  fire.  Horses  were  grazing  around. 
Some  lodges  were  set  up,  others  had  been  sent 
across  the  river.  The  red  glare  of  the  fires  upon 
these  wild  groups  and  harsh  faces,  contrasted 
with  the  surrounding  darkness,  had  a  startling 
effect,  as  the  voyagers  suddenly  came  upon  the 
scene.  The  dogs  of  the  camp  perceived  them, 
and  barked  ;  but  the  Indians,  fortunately,  took  no 
heed  of  their  clamor.  Wyeth  instantly  sheered 
his  boat  out  into  the  stream  ;  when,  unluckily  it 
struck  upon  a  sand-bar,  and  stuck  fast.  It  was  a 
perilous  and  trying,  situation  ;  for  he  was  fixed  be- 
tween the  two  camps,  and  within  rifle  range  of 
both.  All  hands  jumped  out  into  the  water,  and 
tried  to  get  the  boat  off ;  but  as  no  one  dared  to 
give  the  word,  they  could  not  pull  together,  and 
their  labor  was  in  vain.  In  this  way  they  labored 
for  a  long  time  ;  until  Wyeth  thought  of  giving  a 
signal  for  a  general  heave,  by  lifting  his  hat.  The 


356 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


expedient  succeeded.  They  launched  their  canoe 
again  into  deep  water,  and  getting  in,  had  the 
delight  of  seeing  the  camp  fires  of  the  savages 
soon  fading  in  the  distance. 

They  continued  under  way  the  greater  part  of 
the  night,  until  far  beyond  all  danger  from  this 
band,  when  they  pulled  to  shore,  and  encamped. 

The  following  day  was  windy,  and  they  came 
near  upsetting  their  boat  in  carrying  sail.  Toward 
evening,  the  wind  subsided  and  a  beautiful  calm 
night  succeeded.  They  floated  along  with  the 
current  throughout  the  night,  taking  turns  to 
watch  and  steer.  The  deep  stillness  of  the  night 
was  occasionally  interrupted  by  the  neighing  of 
the  elk,  the  hoarse  lowing  of  the  buffalo,  the  hoot- 
ing of  large  owls,  and  the  screeching  of  the  small 
ones,  now  and  then  the  splash  of  a  beaver,  or  the 
gong-like  sound  of  the  swan. 

Part  of  their  voyage  was  extremely  tempest- 
uous ;  with  high  winds,  tremendous  thunder,  and 
soaking  rain  ;  and  they  were  repeatedly  in  ex- 
treme danger  from  drift-wood  and  sunken  trees. 
On  one  occasion,  having  continued  to  float  at 
night,  after  the  moon  was  down,  they  ran  under 
a  great  snag,  or  sunken  tree,  with  dry  branches 
above  the  water.  These  caught  the  mast,  while 
the  boat  swung  round,  broadside  to  the  stream, 
and  began  to  fill  with  water.  Nothing  saved  her 
from  total  wreck,  but  cutting  away  the  mast.  She 
then  drove  clown  the  stream,  but  left  one  of  the 
unlucky  half-breeds  clinging  to  the  snag,  like  a 
monkey  to  a  pole.  It  was  necessary  to  run  in 
shore,  toil  up,  laboriously,  along  the  eddies  and  to 
attain  some  distance  above  the  snag,  \vhen  they 
launched  forth  again  into  the  stream,  and  floated 
down  with  it  to  his  rescue. 

We  forbear  to  detail  all  the  circumstances  and 
adventures  of  upward  of  a  month's  voyage,  down 
the  windings  and  doublings  of  this  vast  river  ;  in 
the  course  of  which  they  stopped  occasionally 
at  a  post  of  one  of  the  rival  fur  companies,  or  at  a 
government  agency  for  an  Indian  tribe.  Neither 
shall  we  dwell  upon  the  changes  of  climate  and 
productions,  as  the  voyagers  swept  down  from 
north  to  south,  across  several  degrees  of  lati- 
tude ;  arriving  at  the  regions  of  oaks  and  syca- 
mores ;  of  mulberry  and  basswood  trees  ;  of  par- 
oquets and  wild  turkeys.  This  is  one  of  the  char- 
acteristics ot  the  middle  and  lower  part  of  the  Mis- 
souri ;  but  still  more  so  of  the  Mississippi,  whose 
rapid  current  traverses  a  succession  of  latitudes, 
so  as  in  a  few  days  to  float  the  voyager  almost 
from  the  frozen  regions  to  the  tropics. 

The  voyage  of  Wyeth  shows  the  regular  and 
unobstructed  flow  of  the  rivers,  on  the  east  side 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  contrast  to  those  of 
the  western  side  ;  where  rocks  and  rapids  contin- 
ually menace  and  obstruct  the  voyager.  We  find 
him  in  a  frail  bark  of  skins,  launching  himself  in 
a  stream  at  the  toot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
floating  down  from  river  to  river,  as  they  empty 
themselves  into  each  other  ;  and  so  he  might 
have  kept  on  upward  of  two  thousand  miles,  un- 
til his  little  bark  should  drift  into  the  ocean.  At 
present  we  shall  stop  with  him  at  Cantonment 
Leavenworth,  the  frontier  post  ot  the  United 
States  ;  where  he  arrived  on  the  27th  of  Septem- 
ber. 

Here  his  first  care  was  to  have  his  Nez  Perce" 
Indian,  and  his  half-breed  boy,  Baptiste,  vacci- 
nated. As  they  approached  the  fort,  they  were 
hailed  by  the  sentinel.  The  sight  of  a  soldier  in 
full  array,  with  what  appeared  to  be  a  long  knife 
glittering  on  the  end  of  a  musket,  struck  Baptiste 
with  such  affright  that  he  took  to  his  heels,  bawl- 


ing for  mercy  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  The  Nez 
Perce"  would  have  followed  him,  had  not  Wyeth 
assured  him  of  his  safety.  When  they  underwent 
the  operation  of  the  lancet,  the  doctor's  wife  and 
another  lady  were  present  ;  both  beautilul  women. 
They  were  the  first  white  women  that  they  had 
seen,  and  they  could  not  keep  their  eyes  off  of 
them.  On  returning  to  the  boat,  they  recounted 
to  their  companions  all  that  they  had  observed  at 
the  fort ;  but  were  especially  eloquent  about  the 
white  squaws,  who,  they  said,  were  white  as 
snow,  and  more  beautiful  than  any  human  being 
they  had  ever  beheld. 

We  shall  not  accompany  the  captain  any  further 
in  his  voyage  ;  but  will  simply  state  that  he  made 
his  way  to  Boston,  where  he  succeeded  in  organ- 
izing an  association  under  the  name  of  "  The  Co- 
lumbia River  Fishing  and  Trading  Company," 
for  his  original  objects  of  a  salmon  fishery  and  a 
trade  in  furs.  A  brig,  the  May  Dacres,  had  been 
dispatched  for  the  Columbia  with  supplies  ;  and 
he  was  now  on  his  way  to  the  same  point,  at  the 
head  of  sixty  men,  whom  he  had  enlisted  at  St. 
Louis  ;  some  of  whom  were  experienced  hunters, 
and  all  more  habituated  to  the  life  of  the  wilder- 
ness than  his  first  band  of  "  clown-easters." 

We  will  now  return  to  Captain  Bonneville  and 
his  party,  whom  we  left,  making  up  their  packs 
and  saddling  their  horses,  in  Bear  River  valley. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

DEPARTURE  OF  CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE  FOR  THE 
COLUMBIA — ADVANCE  OF  WYETH — EFFORTS  TO 
KEEP  THE  LEAD — HUDSON'S  BAY  PARTY— A 
JUNKETING  —  A  DELECTABLE  BEVERAGE — 
HONEY  AND  ALCOHOL — HIGH  CAROUSING— THE 
CANADIAN  "  BON  VIVANT" — A  CACHE — A  RAPID 
MOVE — WYETH  AND  HIS  PLANS — HIS  TRAVEL- 
LING COMPANIONS— BUFFALO  HUNTING — MORE 
CONVIVIALITY — AN  INTERRUPTION. 

IT  was  the  3d  of  July  that  Captain  Bonneville 
set  out  on  his  second  visit  to  the  banks  of  the  Co- 
lumbia, at  the  head  of  twenty-three  men.  He 
travelled  leisurely,  to  keep  his  horses  fresh,  until 
on  the  loth  of  July  a  scout  brought  word  that 
Wyeth,  with  his  band,  was  but  fifty  miles  in  the 
rear,  and  pushing  forward  with  all  speed.  This 
caused  some  bustle  in  the  camp  ;  for  it  was  im- 
portant to  get  first  to  the  buffalo  grodnd  to  secure 
provisions  for  the  journey.  As  the  horses  were 
too  heavily  laden  to  travel  fast,  a  cache  was  digged, 
as  promptly  as  possible,  to  receive  all  superfluous 
baggage.  Just  as  it  was  finished,  a  spring  burst 
out  of  the  earth  at  the  bottom.  Another  cache 
was  therefore  digged,  about  two  miles  further  on  ; 
when,  as  they  were  about  to  bury  the  effects,  a  line 
of  horsemen,  with  pack-horses,  were  seen  streak- 
ing over  the  plain,  and  encamped  close  by. 

It  proved  to  be  a  small  band  in  the  service  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  under  the  command 
ot  a  veteran  Canadian  ;  one  of  those  petty  lead- 
ers, who,  with  a  small  party  of  men,  and  a  small 
supply  of  goods,  are  employed  to  follow  up  a  band 
of  Indians  from  one  hunting  ground  to  another, 
and  buy  up  their  peltries. 

Having  received  numerous  civilities  from  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  the  captain  sent  an  invi- 
tation to  the  officers  of  the  party  to  an  evening  re- 
gale ;  and  set  to  work  to  make  jovial  prepara- 
tions. As  the  night  air  in  these  elevated  regions 
is  apt  to  be  cold,  a  blazing  fire  was  soon  made, 


BONNEVILLE'S  ADVENTURES. 


357 


that  would  have  done  credit  to  a  Christmas  din- 
ner, instead  of  a  midsummer  banquet.  The  par- 
ties met  in  high  good-fellowship.  There  was 
abundance  of  such  hunters'  fare  as  the  neighbor- 
hood furnished  ;  and  it  was  all  discussed  with 
mountain  appetites.  They  talked  over  all  the 
events  of  their  late  campaigns  ;  but  the  Canadian 
veteran  had  been  unlucky  in  some  of  his  transac- 
tions ;  and  his  brow  began  to  grow  cloudy. 
Captain  Bonneville  remarked  his  rising  spleen, 
and  regretted  that  he  had  no  juice  of  the  grape  to 
keep  it  down. 

A  man's  wit,  however,  is  quick  and  inventive 
in  the  wilderness  ;  a  thought  suggested  itself  to 
the  captain,  how  he  might  brew  a  delectable  bev- 
erage. Among  his  stores,  was  a  keg  of  honey 
but  half  exhausted.  This  he  filled  up  with  alco- 
hol, and  stirred  the  fiery  and  mellifluous  ingredi- 
ents together.  The  glorious  results  may  readily 
be  imagined  ;  a  happy  compound  of  strength  and 
sweetness,  enough  to  soothe  the  most  ruffled  tem- 
per and  unsettle  the  most  solid  understanding. 

The  beverage  worked  to  a  charm  ;  the  can  cir- 
culated merrily  ;  the  first  deep  draught  washed 
out  every  care  from  the  mind  of  the  veteran  ;  the 
second  elevated  his  spirit  to  the  clouds.  He  was 
in  fact,  a  boon  companion  ;  as  all  veteran  Cana- 
dian traders  are  apt  to  be.  He  now  became 
glorious  ;  talked  over  all  his  exploits,  his  huntings, 
his  fightings  with  Indian  braves,  his  loves  with 
Indian  beauties  ;  sang  snatches  of  old  French 
ditties,  and  Canadian  boat  songs  ;  drank  deeper 
and  deeper,  sang  louder  and  louder  ;  until,  hav- 
ing reached  a  climax  of  drunken  gayety,  he  grad- 
ually declined,  and  at  .length,  fell  fast  asleep 
upon  the  ground.  After  a  long  nap  he.  again 
raised  his  head,  imbibed  another  potation  of  the 
"sweet  and  strong,"  flashed  up  with  another 
slight  blaze  of  French  gayety,  and  again  fell 
asleep. 

The  morning  found  him  still  upon  the  field  of 
action,  but  in  sad  and  sorrowful  condition  ;  suffer- 
ing the  penalties  of  past  pleasures,  and  calling  to 
mind  the  captain's  dulcet  compound,  with  many 
a  retch  and  spasm.  It  seemed  as  if  the  honey  and 
alcohol,  which  had  passed  so  glibly  and  smoothly 
over  his  tongue,  were  at  war  within  his  stomach  ; 
and  that  he  had  a  swarm  of  bees  within  his  head. 
In  short,  so  helpless  and  woe-begone  was  his 
plight,  that  his  party  proceeded  on  their  march 
without  him  ;  the  captain  promising  to  bring  him 
on  in  safety  in  the  after  part  of  the  day. 

As  soon  as  this  party  had  moved  off,  Captain 
Bonneville's  men  proceeded  to  construct  and  fill 
their  cache  ;  and  just  as  it  was  completed  the 
party  of  Wyeth  was  descried  at  a  distance.  In  a 
moment- all  was  activity  to  take  the  road.  The 
horses  were  prepared  and  mounted  ;  and  being 
lightened  of  a  great  part  of  their  burdens,  were 
able  to  move  with  celerity.  As  to  the  worthy 
convive  of  the  preceding  evening,  he  was  carefully 
gathered  up  from  the  hunter's  couch  on  which  he 
lay,  repentant  and  supine,  and,  being  packed 
upon  one  of  the  horses,  was  hurried  forward  with 
the  convoy,  groaning  and  ejaculating  at  every  jolt. 

In  the  course  of  the  day,  Wyeth,  being  lightly 
mounted,  rode  ahead  of  his  party,  and  overtook 
Captain  Bonneville.  Their  meeting  was  friendly 
and  courteous  ;  and  they  discussed,  sociably, 
their  respective  fortunes  since  they  separated  on 
the  banks  of  the  Bighorn.  Wyeth  announced  his 
intention  of  establishing  a  small  trading  post  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Portneuf,  and  leaving  a  few  men 
there,  with  a  quantity  of  goods,  to  trade  with  the 
neighboring  Indians.  He  was  compelled,  in  fact, 


to  this  measure,  in  consequence  of  the  refusal  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  Fur  Company  to  take  a  sup- 
ply of  goods  which  he  had  brought  out  for  them 
according  to  contract  ;  and  which  he  had  no  othei 
mode  of  disposing  of.  He  further  informed  Cap- 
tain Bonneville  that  the  competition  between  the 
Rocky  Mountain  and  American  Fur  Companies, 
which  had  led  to  such  nefarious  stratagems  and 
deadly  feuds,  was  at  an  end  ;  they  having  divided 
the  country  between  them,  allotting  boundaries 
within  which  each  was  to  trade  and  hunt,  so  as 
not  to  interfere  with  the  other. 

In  company  with  Wyeth  were  travelling  two 
men  of  science  ;  Mr.  Nuttall,  the  botanist  ;  the 
same  who  ascended  the  Missouri  at  the  time  of 
the  expedition  to  Astoria  ;  and  Mr.  Townshend, 
an  ornithologist  ;  from  these  gentlemen  we  may 
look  forward  to  important  information  concerning 
these  interesting  regions.  There  were  three  re- 
ligious missionaries,  also,  bound  to  the  shores  of 
the  Columbia,  to  spread  the  light  of  the  Gospel  in 
that  far  wilderness. 

After  riding  for  some  time  together,  in  friendly 
conversation,  Wyeth  returned  to  his  party,  and 
Captain  Bonneville  continued  to  press  forward, 
and  to  gain  ground.  At  night  he  sent  off  the 
sadly  sober  and  moralizing  chief  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  under  a  proper  escort,  to  rejoin 
his  people  ;  his  route  branching  off  in  a  different 
direction.  The  latter  took  a  cordial  leave  of  his 
host,  hoping,  on  some  future  ccasion,  to  repay 
his  hospitality  in  kind. 

In  the  morning  the  captain  was  early  on  the 
march  ;  throwing  scouts  out  far  ahead,  to  scour 
hill  and  dale,  in  search  of  buffalo.  He  had  con- 
fidently expected  to  find  game,  in  abundance,  on 
the  head  waters  of  the  Portneuf ;  but  on  reaching 
that  region,  not  a  track  was  to  be  seen. 

At  length,  one  of  the  scouts,  who  had  made  a 
wide  sweep  away  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Black- 
foot  River,  discovered  great  herds  quietly  grazing 
in  the  adjacent  meadows.  He  set  out  on  his  re- 
turn, to  report  his  discoveries  ;  but  night  overtak- 
ing him,  he  was  kindly  and  hospitably  entertained 
at  the  camp  of  Wyeth.  As  soon  as  day  dawned  he 
hastened  to  his  own  camp  with  the  welcome  intel- 
ligence ;  and  about  ten  o'clock  of  the  same  morn- 
ing, -Captain  Bonneville's  party  were  in  the  midst 
of  the  game. 

The  packs  were  scarcely  off  the  backs  of  the 
mules,  when  the  runners,  mounted  on  the  fleetest 
horses,  were  full  tilt  after  the  buffalo.  Others  of 
the  men  were  busied  erecting  scaffolds,  and  other 
contrivances,  for  jerking  or  drying  meat  ;  others 
were  lighting  great  fires  for  the  same  purpose  ; 
soon  the  hunters  began  to  make  their  appear- 
ance, bringing  in  the  choicest  morsels  of  buffalo 
meat ;  these  were  placed  upon  the  scaffolds,  and 
the  whole  camp  presented  a  scene  of  singular 
hurry  and  activity.  At  daylight  the  next  morn- 
ing, the  runners  again  took  the  field,  with  similar 
success  ;  and,  after  an  interval  of  repose  made 
their  third  and  last  chase,  about  twelve  o'clock  ; 
for  by  this  time,  Wyeth's  party  was  in  sight.  The 
game  being  now  driven  into  a  valley,  at  some  dis- 
tance, Wyeth  was  obliged  to  fix  his  camp  there  ; 
but  he  came  in  the  evening  to  pay  Captain  Bonne- 
ville a  visit.  He  was  accompanied  by  Captain 
Stewart,  the  amateur  traveller  ;  who  had  not  yet 
sated  his  appetite  for  the  adventurous  life  of  the 
wilderness.  With  him,  also,  was  a  Mr.  M'Kay, 
a  half-breed  ;  son  of  the  unfortunate  adventurer 
of  the  same  name  who  came  out  in  the  first  mari- 
time expedition  to  Astoria  and  was  blown  up  in 
the  Tonquin.  .  His  son  had  grown  up  in  the  em- 


358 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


ploy  of  the  British  fur  companies  ;  and  was  a 
prime  hunter,  and  a  daring  partisan.  He  held, 
moreover,  a  farm  in  the  valley  ol  the  Wallamut. 

The  three  visitors,  when  they  reached  Captain 
Bonneville's  camp,  were  surprised  to  find  no  one 
.•  in  it  but  himself  and  three  men  ;  his  party  being 
dispersed  in  all  directions,  to  make  the  most  of 
their  present  chance  for  hunting-.  They  remon- 
strated with  him  on  the  imprudence  of  remaining 
with  so  trifling  a  guard  in  a  region  so  full  of 
danger.  Captain  Bonneville  vindicated  the  pol- 
icy of  his  conduct.  He  never  hesitated  to  send 
out  all  his  hunters,  when  any  important  object 
was  to  be  attained  ;  and  experience  had  taught 
him  that  he  was  most  secure  when  his  forces 
were  thus  distributed  over  the  surrounding  coun- 
try. He  then  was  sure  that  no  enemy  could  ap- 
proach, from  any  direction,  without  being  discov- 
ered by  his  hunters  ;  who  have  a  quick  eye  for 
detecting  the  slightest  signs  of  the  proximity  of 
Indians  ;  and  who  would  instantly  convey  intelli- 
gence to  the  camp. 

The  captain  now  set  to  wcrk  with  his  men,  to 
prepare  a  suitable  entertainment  for  his  guests. 
It  was  a  time  of  plenty  in  the  camp  ;  of  prime 
hunters'  dainties  ;  of  buffalo  humps,  and  buffalo 
tongues  ;  and  roasted  ribs,  and  broiled  marrow- 
bones :  all  these  were  cooked  in  hunters'  style  ; 
served  up  with  a  profusion  known  only  on  a  plenti- 
ful hunting  ground,  and  discussed  with  an  appe- 
tite that  would  astonish  the  puny  gourmands  of 
tne  cities.  But  above  all,  and  to  give  a  baccha- 
ualian  grace  to  this  truly  masculine  repast,  the 
captain  produced  his  mellifluous  keg  of  home- 
brewed nectar,  which  had  been  so  potent  over  the 
senses  of  the  veteran  of  Hudson's  Bay.  Pota- 
tions, pottle  deep,  again  went  round  ;  never  did 
beverage  excite  greater  glee,  or  meet  with  more 
rapturous  commendation.  The  parties  were  fast 
advancing  to  that  happy  state  which  would  have 
insured  ample  cause  tor  the  next  day's  repent- 
ance ;  and  the  bees  were  already  beginning  to 
buzz  about  their  ears,  when  a  messenger  came 
spurring  to  the  camp  with  intelligence  that 
Wyeth's  people  had  got  entangled  in  one  of  those 
deep  and  frightful  ravines,  piled  with  immense 
fragments  of  volcanic  rock,  which  gash  the  whole 
country  about  the  head-waters  of  the  Blackfoot 
River.  The  revel  was  instantly  at  an  end  ;  the 
keg  of  sweet  and  potent  home-brewed  was  desert- 
ed ;  and  the  guests  departed  with  all  speed  to  aid 
in  extricating  their  companions  from  the  volcanic 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

A  RAPID  MARCH— A  CLOUD  OF  DUST  —  WILD 
HORSEMEN  —  *'  HIGH  JINKS  " — HORSE-RACING 
AND  RIFLE-SHOOTING — THE  GAME  OF  HAND — 
THE  FISHING  SEASON— MODE  OF  FISHING— TA- 
BLE LANDS— SALMON  FISHERS— THE  CAPTAIN'S 
VISIT  TO  AN  INDIAN  LODGE— THE  INDIAN  GIRL 
— THE  POCKET  MIRROR— SUPPER— TROUBLES 
OF  AN  EVIL  CONSCIENCE. 

"UP  and  away!"  is  the  first  thought  at  day- 
light of  the  Indian  trader,  when  a  rival  is  at  hand 
and  distance  is  to  be  gained.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing, Captain  Bonneville  ordered  the  half  dried 
meat  to  be  packed  upon  the  horses,  and  leaving 
Wyeth  and  his  party  to  hunt  the  scattered  buffalo, 
pushed  off  rapidly  to  the  east,  to  regain  the  plain 
of  the  Portneuf.  His  march  was  rugged  and 
dangerous  ;  through  volcanic  hills,  broken  into 


cliffs  and  precipices  ;  and  seamed  with  tremen- 
dous chasms,  where  the  rocks  rose  like  walls. 

On  the  second  day,  however,  he  encamped  once 
more  in  the  plain,  and  as  it  was  still  early  some 
of  the  men  strolled  out  to  the  neighboring  hills. 
In  casting  their  eyes  round  the  country,  they  per- 
ceived a  great  cloud  of  dust  rising  in  the  south, 
and  evidently  approaching.  Hastening  back  to 
the  camp,  they  gave  the  alarm.  Preparations  were 
instantly  made  to  receive  an  enemy  ;  while  some 
of  the  men,  throwing  themselves  upon  the  "  run- 
ning horses"  kept  for  hunting,  galloped  off  to  rec- 
onnoitre. In  a  little  while,  they  made  signals 
from  a  distance  that  all  was  friendly.  By  this 
time  the  cloud  of  dust  had  swept  on  as  if  hurried 
along  by  a  blast,  and  a  band  of  wild  horsemen 
came  dashing  at  full  leap  into  the  camp,  yelling 
and  whooping  like  so  many  maniacs.  Their 
dresses,  their  accoutrements,  their  mode  of  rid- 
ing, and  their  uncouth  clamor,  made  them  j>eem 
a  party  of  savages  arrayed  for  war  ;  but  they 
proved  to  be  principally  half-breeds,  and  white 
men  grown  savage  in  the  wilderness,  who  were 
employed  as  trappers  and  hunters  in  the  service  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 

Here  was  again  "  high  jinks"  in  the  camp. 
Captain  Bonneville's  men  hailed  these  wild  scam- 
perers  as  congenial  spirits,  or  rather  as  the  very 
game  birds  of  their  class.  They  entertained  them 
with  the  hospitality  of  mountaineers,  feasting 
them  at  every  fire.  At  first,  there  were  mutual 
details  of  adventures  and  exploits,  and  broad  jok- 
ing mingled  with  peals  of  laughter.  Then  came 
on  boasting  of  the  comparative  merits  of  horses 
and  rifles,  which  soon  engrossed  every  tongue. 
This  naturally  led  to  racing,  and  shooting  at  a 
mark  ;  one  trial  of  speed  and  skill  succeeded 
another,  shouts  and  acclamations  rose  from  the 
victorious  parties,  fierce  altercations  succeeded, 
and  a  general  melee  was  about  to  take  place, 
when  suddenly  the  attention  of  the  quarrellers 
was  arrested  by  a  strange  kind  of  Indian  chant  or 
chorus,  that  seemed  to  operate  upon  them  as  a 
charm.  Their  fury  was  at  an  end  ;  a  tacit  recon- 
ciliation succeeded,  and  the  ideas  of  the  whole 
mongrel  crowd — whites,  half-breeds,  and  squaws 
— were  turned  in  a. new  direction.  They  all  form- 
ed into  groups,  and  taking  their  places  at  the  sev- 
eral fires,  prepared  for  one  of  the  most  exciting 
amusements  of  the  Nez  Perces  and  the  other 
tribes  of  the  Far  West. 

The  choral  chant,  in  fact,  which  had  thus  acted 
as  a  charm,  was  a  kind  of  wild  accompaniment 
to  the  favorite  Indian  game  of  "  Hand."  This  is 
played  by  two  parties  drawn  out  in  opposite  pla- 
toons before  a  blazing  fire.  It  is  in  some  respects 
like  the  old  game  of  passing  the  ring  or  the  button, 
and  detecting  the  hand  which  holds  it.  In  the 
present  game,  the  object  hidden,  or  the  cache  as 
it  is  called  by  the  trappers,  is  a  small  splint  of 
wood,  or  other  diminutive  article,  that  may  be 
concealed  in  the  closed  hand.  This  is  passed 
backward  and  forward  among  the  party  "  in 
hand,"  while  the  party  "  out  of  hand"  guess 
where  it  is  concealed.  To  heighten  the  excite- 
ment and  confuse  the  guessers,  a  number  of  dry 
poles  are  laid  before  each  platoon,  upon  which 
the  members  of  the  party  "  in  hand"  beat  furi- 
ously with  short  staves,  keeping  time  to  the  choral 
chant  already  mentioned,  which  waxes  fast  and 
furious  as  the  game  proceeds.  As  large  bets  are 
staked  upon  the  game,  the  excitement  is  prodig- 
ious. Each  party  in  turn  bursts  out  in  full  chorus, 
beating,  and  yelling,  and  working  themselves  up 
into  such  a  heat  that  the  perspiration  rolls  down 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


359 


their  naked  shoulders,  even  in  the  cold  of  a  win- 
ter night.  The  bets  are  doubled  and  trebled  as 
the  game  advances,  the  mental  excitement  in- 
creases almost  to  madness,  and  all  the  worldly 
effects  of  the  gamblers  are  often  hazarded  upon 
the  position  of  a  straw. 

These  gambling  games  were  kept  up  through- 
out the  night  ;  every  fire  glared  upon  a  group 
that  looked  like  a  crew  of  maniacs  at  their  frantic 
orgies,  and  the  scene  would  have  been  kept  up 
throughout  the  succeeding  day,  had  not  Captain 
Bonneville  interposed  his  authority,  and,  at  the 
usual  hour,  issued  his  marching  orders. 

Proceeding  down  the  course  of  Snake  River,  the 
hunters  regularly  returned  to  camp  in  the  evening 
laden  with  wild  geese,  which  were  yet  scarcely 
able  to  fly,  and  were  easily  caught  in  great  num- 
bers. It  was  now  the  season  of  the  annual  fish- 
feast,  with  which  the  Indians  in  these  parts  cele- 
brate the  first  appearance  of  the  salmon  in  this 
river.  These  fish  are  taken  in  great  numbers  at 
the  numerous  falls  of  about  four  feet  pitch.  The 
Indians  flank  the  shallow  water  just  below,  and 
spear  them  as  they  attempt  to  pass.  In  wide  parts 
of  the  river,  also,  they  place  a  sort  of  chevaux-de- 
frize,  or  fence,  of  poles  interwoven  with  withes, 
and  forming  an  angle  in  the  middle  of  the  current, 
where  a  small  opening  is  left  for  the  salmon  to 
pass.  Around  this  opening  the  Indians  station 
themselves  on  small  rafts,  and  ply  their  spears 
with  great  success. 

The  table  lands  so  common  in  this  region  have  a 
sandy  soil,  inconsiderable  in  depth,  and  covered 
with  sage,  or  more  properly  speaking,  worm- 
wood. Below  this  is  a  level  stratum  of  rock,  riven 
occasionally  by  frightful  chasms.  The  whole 
plain  rises  as  it  approaches  the  river,  and  termi- 
nates with  high  and  broken  cliffs,  difficult  to 
pass,  and  in  many  places  so  precipitous  that  it  is 
impossible,  for  days  together,  to  get  down  to  the 
water's  edge,  to  give  drink  to  the  horses.  This 
obliges  the  traveller  occasionally  to  abandon  the 
vicinity  of  the  river,  and  make  a  wide  sweep  into 
the  interior. 

It  was  now  far  in  the  month  of  July,  and  the 
party  suffered  extremely  from  sultry  weather  and 
dusty  travelling.  The  flies  and  gnats,  too,  were 
extremely  troublesome  to  the  horses  ;  especially 
when  keeping  along  the  edge  of  the  river  where 
it  runs  between  low  sand-banks.  Whenever  the 
travellers  encamped  in  the  afternoon,  the  horses 
retired  to  the  gravelly  shores  and  remained  there, 
without  attempting  to  feed  until  the  cool  of  the 
evening.  As  to  the  travellers,  they  plunged  into 
the  clear  and  cool  current,  to  wash  away  the  dust 
of  the  road  and  refresh  themselves  after  the  heat 
of  the  clay.  The  nights  were  always  cool  and 
pleasant. 

At  one  place  where  they  encamped  for  some 
time,  the  river  was  nearly  five  hundred  yards 
wide,  and  studded  with  grassy  islands,  adorned 
with  groves  of  willow  and  cotton-wood.  Here 
the  Indians  were  assembled  in  great  numbers,  and 
had  barricaded  the  channels  between  the  islands, 
to  enable  them  to  spear  the  salmon  with  greater 
facility.  They  were  a  timid  race,  and  seemed 
unaccustomed  to  the  sight  of  white  men.  Enter- 
ing one  of  the  huts,  Captain  Bongeville  found  the 
inhabitants  just  proceeding  to  cook  a  fine  salmon. 
It  is  put  into  a  pot  filled  with  cold  water,  and 
hung  over  the  fire.  The  moment  the  water  begins 
to  boil,  the  fish  is  considered  cooked. 

Taking  his  seat  unceremoniously,  and  lighting 
his  pipe,  the  captain  awaited  the  cooking  of  the 
fish,  intending  to  invite  himself  to  the  repast.  I 


The  owner  of  the  hut  seemed  to  take  his  intrusion 
in  good  part.  While  conversing  with  him  the 
captain  felt  something  move  behind  him,  and 
turning  round  and  removing  a  few  skins  and  old 
buffalo  robes,  discovered  a  young  girl,  about 
fourteen  years  of  age,  crouched  beneath,  who  di- 
rected her  large  black  eyes  full  in  his  face,  and 
continued  to  gaze  in  mute  surprise  and  terror.  The 
captain  endeavored  to  dispel  her  fears,  and  draw- 
ing a  bright  ribbon  from  his  pocket,  attempted 
repeatedly  to  tie  it  round  her  neck.  She  jerked 
back  at  each  attempt,  uttering  a  sound  very  much 
like  a  snarl  ;  nor  could  all  the  blandishments  of 
the  captain,  albeit  a  pleasant,  good-looking,  and 
somewhat  gallant  man,  succeed  in  conquering  the 
shyness  of  the  savage  little  beauty.  His  atten- 
,tions  were  now  turned  to  the  parents,  whom  he 
presented  with  an  awl  and  a  little  tobacco,  and 
having  thus  secured  their  good-will,  continued  to 
smoke  his  pipe  and  watch  the  salmon.  While 
thus  seated  near  the  threshold,  an  urchin  of  the 
family  approached  the  door,  but  catching  a  sight 
of  the  strange  guest,  ran  off  screaming  with  ter- 
ror, and  ensconced  himself  behind  the  long  straw 
at  the  back  of  the  hut. 

Desirous  to  dispel  entirely  this  timidity,  and  to 
open  a  trade  with  the  simple  inhabitants  of  the 
hut,  who,  he  did  not  doubt,  had  furs  somewhere 
concealed  ;  the  captain  now  drew  forth  that  grand 
lure  in  the  eyes  of  the  savage,  a  pocket  mirror. 
The  sight  of  it  was  irresistible.  After  examining 
it  for  a  long  time  with  wonder  and  admiration, 
they  produced  a  musk-rat  skin,  and  offered  it  in 
exchange.  The  captain  shook  his  head  ;  but  pur- 
chased the  skin  for  a  couple  of  buttons— super- 
fluous trinkets  !  as  the  worthy  lord  of  the  hovel 
had  neither  coat  nor  breeches  on  which  to  place 
them. 

The  mirror  still  continued  the  great  object  of 
desire,  particularly  in  the  eyes  ol  the  old  house- 
wife, who  produced  a  pot  of  parched  flour  and  a 
string  of  biscuit  roots.  These  procured  her  some 
trifle  in  return  ;  but  could  not  command  the  pur- 
chase of  the  mirror.  The  salmon  being  now 
completely  cooked,  they  all  joined  heartily  in -sup- 
per. A  bounteous  portion  was  deposited  before 
the  captain  by  the  old  woman,  upon  some  fresh 
grass, -which  served  instead  of  a  platter;  and 
never  had  he  tasted  a  salmon  boiled  so  complete- 
ly to  his  fancy. 

Supper  being  over,  the  captain  lighted  his  pipe  < 
and  passed  it  to  his  host,  who,  inhaling  the 
smoke,  puffed  it  through  his  nostrils  so  assidu- 
ously, that  in  a  little  while  his  head  manifested 
signs  of  confusion  and  dizziness.  Being  satisfied, 
by  this  time,  of  the  kindly  and  companionable 
qualities  of  the  captain,  he  became  easy  and  com- 
municative ;  and  at  length  hinted  something  about 
exchanging  beaver  skins  for  horses.  The  captain 
at  once  offered  to  dispose  of  his  steed,  which 
stood  fastened  at  the  door.  The  bargain  was 
soon  concluded,  whereupon  the  Indian,  removing 
a  pile  of  bushes  under  which  his  valuables  were 
concealed,  drew  forth  the  number  of  skins  agreed 
upon  as  the  price. 

Shortly  afterward,  some  of  the  captain's  people 
coming  up,  he  ordered  another  horse  to  be  sad- 
dled, and,  mounting  it,  took  his  departure  from 
the  hut,  after  distributing  a  few  trifling  presents 
among  its  simple  inhabitants.  During  all  the 
time  of  his  visit,  the  little  Indian  girl  had  kept 
her  large  black  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  almost  with- 
out winking,  watching  every  movement  with  awe 
and  wonder  ;  and  as  he  rode  off,  remained  gaz- 
ing after  him,  motionless  as  a  statue.  Her  father, 


360 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


however,  delighted  with  his  new  acquaintance, 
mounted  his  newly  purchased  horse,  and  followed 
in  the  train  of  the  captain,  to  whom  he  continued 
to  be  a  faithful  and  useful  adherent  during  his  so- 
journ in  the  neighborhood. 

The  cowardly  effects  of  an  evil  conscience  were 
evidenced  in  the  conduct  of  one  of  the  captain's 
men,  who  had  been  in  theCalifornian  expedition. 
During  all  their  intercourse  with  the  harmless 
people  of  this  place,  he  had  manifested  uneasiness 
and  anxiety.  While  his  companions  mingled 
freely  and  joyously  with  the  natives,  he  went 
about  with  a  restless,  suspicious  look  ;  scrutiniz- 
ing every  painted  form  and  face  and  starting 
often  at  the  sudden  approach  of  some  meek  and 
inoffensive  savage,  who  regarded  him  with  rever- 
ence as  a  superior  being.  Yet  this  was  ordinarily 
a  bold  fellow,  who  never  flinched  from  danger, 
nor  turned  pale  at  the  prospect  of  a  battle.  At 
length  he  requested  permission  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  these  people  en- 
tirely. Their  striking  resemblance,  he  said,  to  the 
people  of  Ogden's  River,  made  him  continually 
tear  that  some  among  them  might  have  seen  him 
in  that  expedition  ;  and  might  seek  an  opportu- 
nity of  revenge.  Ever  after  this,  while  they  re- 
mained in  this  neighborhood,  he  would  skulk  out 
of  the  way  and  keep  aloof  when  any  of  the  native 
inhabitants  apprqached.  "  Such,"  observes  Cap- 
tain Bonneville,  "  is  the  effect  of  self-reproach,  even 
upon  the  roving  trapper  in  the  wilderness,  who 
has  little  else  to  fear  than  the  stings  of  his  own 
guilty  conscience." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

OUTFIT  OF  A  TRAPPER— RISKS  TO  WHICH  HE  IS 
SUBJECTED — PARTNERSHIP  OF  TRAPPERS--,EN- 
MITY  OF  INDIANS— DISTANT  SMOKE— A  COUN- 
TRY ON  FIRE — GUN  CREEK — GRAND  ROND — 
.FINE  PASTURES — PERPLEXITIES  IN  A  SMOKY 
COUNTRY — CONFLAGRATION  OF  FORESTS. 

IT  had  been  the  intention  of  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, in  descending  along  Snake  River,  to  scat- 
ter his  trappers  upon  the  smaller  streams.  In 
this  way  a  range  of  country  is  trapped  by  small 
detachments  from  a  main  body.  The  outfit  of  a 
trapper  is  generally  a  rifle,  a  pound  of  powder, 
and  four  pounds  of  lead,  with  a  bullet  mould, 
seven  traps,  an  axe,  a  hatchet,  a  knife  and  awl,  a 
camp  kettle,  two  blankets,  and,  where  supplies 
are  plenty,  seven  pounds  of  flour.  He  has,  gen- 
erally, two  or  three  horses,  to  carry  himself  and 
his  baggage  and  peltries.  Two  trappers  com- 
monly go  together,  for  the  purposes  of  mutual 
assistance  and  support  ;  a  larger  party  could  not 
easily  escape  the  eyes  of  the  Indians.  It  is  a  ser- 
vice of  peril,  and  even  more  so  at  present  than 
formerly,  for  the  Indians,  since  they  have  got  into 
the  habit  of  trafficking  peltries  with  the  traders, 
have  learned  the  value  of  the  beaver,  and  look 
upon  the  trappers  as  poachers,  who  are  filching 
the  riches  from  their  streams,  and  interfering  with 
their  market.  They  make  no  hesitation,  there- 
fore, to  murder  the  solitary  trapper,  and  thus  de- 
stroy a  competitor,  while  they  possess  themselves 
of  his  spoils.  It  is  with  regret  we  add,  too,  that 
this  hostility  has  in  many  cases  been  instigated  by 
traders,  desirous  of  injuring  their  rivals,  but  who 
have  themselves  often  reaped  the  fruits  of  the 
mischief  they  hav^Eown. 

When  two  trappers  undertake  any  considerable 


stream,  their  mode  of  proceeding  is,  to  hide  their 
horses  in  some  lonely  glen,  where  they  can  graze 
unobserved.  They  then  build  a  small  hut,  dig 
out  a  canoe  from  a  cotton-wood  tree,  and  in  this 
poke  along  shore  silently,  in  the  evening,  and  set 
their  traps.  These  they  revisit  in  the  same  silent 
way  at  daybreah.  When  they  take  any  beaver 
they  bring  it  home,  skin  it,  stretch  the  skins  on 
sticks  to  dry,  and  feast  upon  the  flesh.  The 
body,  hung  up  .before  the  fire,  turns  by  its  own 
weight,  and  is  roasted  in  a  superior  style  ;  the  tail 
is  the  trapper's  tidbit  ;  it  is  cut  off,  put  on  the  end 
of  a  stick,  and  toasted,  and  is  considered  even  a 
greater  dainty  than  the  tongue  or  the  marrow- 
bone of  a  buffalo. 

With  all  their  silence  and  caution,  however,  the 
poor  trappers  cannot  always  escape  their  hawk- 
eyed  enemies.  Their  trail  has  been  discovered, 
perhaps,  and  followed  up  for  many  a  mile  ;  or 
their  smoke  has  been  seen  cu'ling  up  out  of  the 
secret  glen,  or  has  been  scented  by  the  savages, 
whose  sense  of  smell  is  almost  as  acute  as  that  of 
sight.  Sometimes  they  are  pounced  upon  when  in 
the  act  of  setting  their  traps  ;  at  other  times,  they 
are  roused  from  their  sleep  by  the  horrid  war- 
whoop  ;  or,  perhaps,  have  a  bullet  or  an  arrow 
whistling  about  their  ears,  in  the  midst  of  one  of 
their  beaver  banquets.  In  this  way  they  are  pick- 
ed off,  from  time  to  time,  and  nothing  is  known 
of  them,  until,  perchance,  their  bones  are  found 
bleaching  in  some  lonely  ravine,  or  on  the  banks 
of  some  nameless  stream,  which  from  that  time  is 
called  after  them.  Many  of  the  small  streams 
beyond  the  mountains  thus  perpetuate  the  names 
of  unfortunate  trappers  that  have  been  murdered 
on  their  banks. 

A  knowledge  of  these  dangers  deterred  Captain 
Bonneville,  in  the  present  instance,  from  detach- 
ing small  parties  of  trappers  as  he  had  intended  ; 
for  his  scouts  brought  him  word  that  formidable 
bands  of  the  Banneck  Indians  were  lying  on  the 
Boise'e  and  Payette  Rivers,  at  no  great  distance, 
so  that  they  would  be  apt  to  detect  and  cut  off  any 
stragglers.  It  behooved  him,  also,  to  keep  his 
party  together,  to  guard  against  any  predatory 
attack  upon  the  main  body  ;  he  continued  on  his 
way,  therefore,  without  dividing  his  forces.  And 
fortunate  it  was  that  he  did  so  ;  for  in  a  little 
while  he  encountered  one  of  the  phenomena  of  the 
western  wilds  that  would  effectually  have  pre- 
vented his  scattered  people  from  finding  each 
other  again.  In  a  word,  it  was  the  season  of  set- 
ting fire  to  the  prairies.  As  he  advanced  he  be- 
gan to  perceive  great  clouds  of  smoke  at  a  dis- 
tance, rising  by  degrees,  and  spreading  over  the 
whole  face  of  the  country.  The  atmosphere  be- 
came dry  and  surcharged  with  murky  vapor, 
parching  to  the  skin,  and  irritating  to  the  eyes. 
When  travelling  among  the  hills,  they  could 
scarcely  discern  objects  at  the  distance  of  a  few 
paces  ;  indeed,  the  least  exertion  of  the  vision 
was  painful.  There  was  evidently  some  vast  con- 
flagration in  the  direction  toward  which  they  were 
proceeding  ;  it  was  as  yet  at  a  great  distance,  and 
during  the  day  they  could  only  see  the  smoke  ris- 
ing in  larger  and  denser  volumes,  and  rolling  forth 
in  an  immense  canopy.  At  night  the  skies  were 
all  glowing  with  the  reflection  of  unseen  fires, 
hanging  in  an  immense  body  of  lurid  light  high 
above  the  horizon. 

Having  reached  Gun  Creek,  an  important  stream 
coming  from  the  left,  Captain  Bonneville  turned 
up  its  course,  to  traverse  the  mountains  and  avoid 
the  great  bend  of  Snake  River.  Being  now  out  of 
the  range  of  the  Bannecks,  he  sent  out  his  people 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


3Gi: 


in  all  directions  to  hunt  the  antelope  for  present 
supplies  ;  keeping  the  dried  meats  for  places 
where  game  might  be  scarce. 

During  four  days  that  the  party  were  ascend- 
ing Gun  Creek,  the  smoke  continued  to  increase 
so  rapidly  that  it  was  impossible  to  distinguish 
the  face  of  the  country  and  ascertain  landmarks. 
Fortunately,  the  travellers  tell  upon  an  Indian  trail, 
which  led  them  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Fourche 
de  Glace  or  Ice  River,  sometimes  called  the  Grand 
Rond.  Here  they  found  all  the  plains  and  valleys 
wrapped  in  one  vast  conflagration  ;  which  swept 
over  the  long  grass  in  billows  of  flame,  shot  up 
every  bush  and  tree,  rose  in  great  columns  from 
the  groves,  and  sent  up  clouds  of  smoke  that 
darkened  the  atmosphere.  To  avoid  this  sea  of 
fire,  the  travellers  had  to  pursue  their  course  close 
along  the  foot  of  the  mountains  ;  but  the  irritation 
from  the  smoke  continued  to  be  tormenting. 

The  country  about  the  head-waters  of  the  Grand 
Rond  spreads  out  into  broad  and  level  prairies, 
extremely  fertile,  and  watered  by  mountain 
springs  and  rivulets.  These  prairies  are  resorted 
to  by  small  bands  of  the  Skynses,  to  pasture  their 
horses,  as  well  as  to  banquet  upon  the  salmon 
which  abound  in  the  neighboring  waters.  They 
take  these  fish  in  great  quantities  and  without  the 
least  difficulty  ;  simply  taking  them  out  of  the 
water  with  their  hands,  as  they  flounder  and 
struggle  in  the  numerous  long  shoals  of  the  prin- 
cipal streams.  At  the  time  the  travellers  passed 
over  these  prairies,  some  of  the  narrow,  deep 
streams  by  which  they  were  intersected  were 
completely  choked  with  salmon,  which  they  took 
in  great  numbers.  The  wolves  and  bears  fre- 
quent these  streams  at  this  season,  to  avail  them- 
selves of  these  great  fisheries. 

The  travellers  continued,  for  many  days,  to  ex- 
perience great  difficulties  and  discomforts  from 
this  wide  conflagration,  which  seemed  to  em- 
brace the  whole  wilderness.  The  sun  was  for  a 
great  part  of  the  time  obscured  by  the  smoke,  and 
the  loftiest  mountains  were  hidden  from  view. 
Blundering  along  in  this  region  of  mist  and  un- 
certainty, they  were  frequently  obliged  to  make 
long  circuits,  to  avoid  obstacles  which  they  could 
not  perceive  until  close  upon  them.  The  Indian 
trails  were  their  safest  guides,  for  though  they 
sometimes  appeared  to  lead  them  out  of  their 
direct  course,  they  always  conducted  them  to  the 
passes. 

On  the  26th  of  August,  they  reached  the  head 
of  the  Way-lee-way  River.  Here,  in  a  valley  of 
the  mountains  through  which  this  head-water 
makes  its  way,  they  found  a  band  of  the  Skynses, 
who  were  extremely  sociable,  and  appeared  to  be 
well  disposed,  and  as  they  spoke  the  Nez  Perce" 
language,  an  intercourse  was  easily  kept  up  with 
them. 

In  the  pastures  on  the  bank  of  this  stream, 
Captain  Bonneville  encamped  for  a  time,  for  the 
purpose  of  recruiting  the  strength  of  his  horses. 
Scouts  were  now  sent  out  to  explore  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  search  for  a  convenient  pass 
through  the  mountains  toward  the  Wallamut  or 
Multnomah.  After  an  absence  of  twenty  days 
they  returned  weary  and  discouraged.  They  had" 
been  harassed  and  perplexed  in  rugged  mountain 
defiles,  where  their  progress  was  continually  im- 
peded by  rocks  and  precipices.  Often  they  had 
been  obliged  to  travel  along  the  edges  of  frightful 
ravines,  where  a  false  step  would  have  been  fatal. 
In  one  of  these  passes,  a  horse  fell  from  the  brink 
of  a  precipice,  and  would  have  been  dashed  to 
pieces  had  he  not  lodged  among  the  branches  qf 


a  tree,  from  which  he  was  extricated  with  great 
difficulty.  These,  however,  were  not  the  worst  of 
their  difficulties  and  perils.  The  great  conflagra- 
tion of  the  country,  which  had  harassed  the  main 
party  in  its  march,  was  still  more  awful  the  fur- 
ther this  exploring  party  proceeded.  The  flames 
which  swept  rapidly  over  the  light  vegetation  of 
the  prairies  assumed  a  fiercer  character  and  teok 
a  stronger  hold  amid  the  wooded  glens  and 
ravines  of  the  mountains.  Some  of  the  deep 
gorges  and  defiles  sent  up  sheets  of  flame,  and 
clouds  of  lurid  smoke,  and  sparks  and  cinders 
that  in  the  night  made  them  resemble  the  craters 
of  volcanoes.  The  groves  and  forests,  too,  which 
crowned  the  cliffs,  shot  up  their  towering  columns 
of  fire,  and  added  to  the  furnace  glow  of  the 
mountains.  With  these  stupendous  sights  were 
combined  the  rushing  blasts  caused  by  the  rare- 
fied air,  which  roared  and  howled  through  the 
narrow  glens,  and  whirled  forth  the  smoke  and 
flames  in  impetuous  wreaths.  Ever  and  anon,  too, 
was  heard  the  crash  of  falling  trees,  sometimes 
tumbling  from  crags  and  precipices,  with  tremen- 
dous sounds. 

In  the  daytime,  the  mountains  were  wrapped  in 
smoke  so  dense  and  blinding,  that  the  explorers, 
if  by  chance  they  separated,  could  only  find  each 
other  by  shouting.  Often,  too,  they  had  to  grope 
their  way  through  the  yet  burning  forests,  in  con- 
stant peril  from  the  limbs  and  trunks  of  trees, 
which  frequently  fell  across  their  path.  At  length 
they  gave  up  the  attempt  to  find  a  pass  as  hope- 
less, under  actual  circumstances,  and  made  their 
way  back  to  the  camp  to  report  their  failure. 


CHAPTER    XLV. 

THE  SKYNSES— THEIR  TRAFFIC  —  HUNTING  — 
FOOD — HORSES — A  HORSE-RACE — DEVOTIONAL 
FEELING  OF  THE  SKYNES,  NEZ  PERCES,  AND 
FLATHEADS  —  PRAYERS  —  EXHORTATIONS  —  A 
PREACHER  ON  HORSEBACK — EFFECT  OF  RELI- 
GION ON  THE  MANNERS  OF  THE  TRIBES — A 
NEW  LIGHT. 

DURING  the  absence  of  this  detachment,  a 
sociable  intercourse  had  been  kept  up  between 
the  main  party  and  the  Skynses,  who  had  removed 
into  the  neighborhood  of  the  camp.  These  peo- 
ple dwell  about  the  waters  of  the  Way-lee-way 
and  the  adjacent  country,  and  trade  regularly 
with  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ;  generally  giv- 
ing horses  in  exchange  for  the  articles  of  which 
they  stand  in  need.  They  bring  beaver  skins, 
also,  to  the  trading  posts  ;  not  procured  by  trap- 
ping, but  by  a  course  of  internal  traffic  with  the 
shy  and  ignorant  Shoshokoes  and  Too-el-icans, 
who  keep  in  distant  and  unfrequented  parts  of  the 
country,  and  will  not  venture  near  the  trading 
houses.  The  Skynses  hunt  the  deer  and  elk,  oc- 
casionally ;  and  depend,  for  a  part  of  the  year,  on 
fishing.  Their  main  subsistence,  however,  is 
upon  roots,  especially  the  kamash.  This  bulbous 
root  is  said  to  be  of  a  delicious  flavor,  and  highly 
nutritious.  The  women  dig  it  up  in  great  quanti- 
ties, steam  it,  and  deposit  it  in  caches  for  winter 
provisions.  It  grows  spontaneously,  and  abso- 
lutely covers  the  plains. 

This  tribe  were  comfortably  clad  and  equipped. 
They  had  a  few  rifles  among  them,  and  were  ex- 
tremely desirous  of  bartering  for  those  of  Captain 
Bonneville's  men;  offering  a  couple  of  good  run- 
ning horses  tor  a  light  rifle.  Their  first-rate 


302 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


horses,  however,  were  not  to  be  procured  from 
them  on  any  terms.  They  almost  invariably  use 
ponies  ;  but  of  a  breed  infinitely  superior  to  any 
in  the  United  States.  They  are  fond  ol  trying 
their  speed  and  bottom,  and  of  betting  upon  them. 

As  Captain  Bonneville  was  desirous  of  judging 
of  the  comparative  merit  of  their  horses,  he  pur- 
chased one  of  their  racers,  and  had  a  trial  of 
speed  between  that, an  American,  and  a  Shoshonie, 
which  were  supposed  to  be  well  matched.  The 
race-course  was  for  the  distance  of  one  mile  and  a 
half  out  and  back.  For  the  first  half  mile  the 
American  took  the  lead  by  a  few  hands  ;  but,  los- 
ing his  wind,  soon  tell  far  behind  ;  leaving  the 
Shoshonie  and  Skynse  to  contend  together.  For 
a  mile  and  a  half  they  went  head  and  head  :  but 
at  the  turn  the  Skynse  took  the  lead  and  won  the 
race  with  great  ease,  scarce  drawing  a  quick 
breath  when  all  was  over. 

The  Skynses,  like  the  Nez  Perces  and  the  Flat- 
heads,  have  a  strong  devotional  feeling,  which 
has  been  successfully  cultivated  by  some  of  the 
resident  personages  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany. Sunday  is  invariably  kept  sacred  among 
these  tribes.  They  will  not  raise  their  camp  on 
that  day,  unless  in  extreme  cases  of  danger  or 
hunger :  neither  will  they  hunt,  nor  fish,  nor 
trade,  nor  perform  any  kind  of  labor  on  that  day. 
A  part  of  it  is  passed  in  prayer  and  religious 
ceremonies.  Some  chief,  who  is  generally  at 
the  same  time  what  is  called  a  "  medicine  man," 
assembles  the  community.  After  invoking  bless- 
ings from  the  Deity,  he  addresses  the  assemblage, 
exhorting  them  to  good  conduct  ;  to  be  diligent  in 
providing  for  their  families  ;  to  abstain  from  lying 
and  stealing  ;  to  avoid  quarrelling  or  cheating  in 
their  play,  and  to  be  just  and  hospitable  to  all 
strangers  who  maybe  among  them.  Prayers  and 
exhortations  are  also  made,  early  in  the  morning, 
on  week  clays.  Sometimes,  all  this  is  done  by  the 
chief,  from  horseback  ;  moving  slowly  about  the 
camp,  with  his  hat  on,  and  uttering  his  exhorta- 
tions with  a  loud  voice.  On  all  occasions,  the 
bystanders  listen  with  profound  attention  ;  and  at 
the  end  of  every  sentence  respond  one  word  in 
unison,  apparently  equivalent  to  an  amen. 
While  these  prayers  and  exhortations  are  going 
on,  every  employment  in  the  camp  is  suspended. 
If  an  Indian  is  riding  by  the  place,  he  dismounts, 
holds  his  horse,  and  attends  with  reverence  until 
all  is  done.  When  the  chief  has  finished  his 
prayer  or  exhortation,  he  says,  "  I  have  done  ;" 
upon  which  there  is  a  general  exclamation  in 
unison. 

,  With  these  religious  services,  probably  derived 
from  the  white  men,  the  tribes  above-mentioned 
mingle  some  of  their  old  Indian  ceremonials, 
such  as  dancing  to  the  cadence  of  a  song  or  bal- 
lad, which  is  generally  done  in  a  large  lodge 
provided  for  the  purpose.  Besides  Sundays,  they 
likewise  observe  the  cardinal  holidays  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church. 

Whoever  has  introduced  these  simple  forms  of 
religion  among  these  poor  savages,  has  evidently 
understood  their  characters  and  capacities,  and 
effected  a  great  melioration  of  their  manners.  Of 
this  we  speak  not  merely  from  the  testimony  of 
Captain  Bonneville,  but  likewise  from  that  of 
Mr.  Wyeth,  who  passed  some  months  in  a  travel- 
ling camp  of  the  Flatheads.  "  During  the  time 
I  have  been  with  them,"  says  he,  "  I  have  never 
known  an  instance  of  theft  among  them  :  the  least 
thing,  even  to  a  bead  or  pin,  is  brought  to  you,  if 
found  ;  and  often,  things  that  have  been  thrown 
away.  Neither  have  I  known  any  quarrelling, 


nor  lying.  This  absence  of  all  quarrelling  the 
more  surprised  me,  when  I  came  to  see  the  vari- 
ous occasions  that  would  have  given  rise  to  it 
among  the  whites  :  the  crowding  together  of  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  hundred  horses,  which  have  to 
be  driven  into  camp  at  night,  to  be  picketed,  to 
be  packed  in  the  morning  ;  the  gathering  of  fuel 
in  places  where  it  is  extremely  scanty.  All 
this,  however,  is  done  without  confusion  or  dis- 
turbance. 

"  They  have  a  mild,  playful,  laughing  disposi- 
tion ;  and  this  is  portrayed  in  their  countenances. 
They  are  polite,  and  unobtrusive.  When  one 
speaks,  the  rest  pay  strict  attention  :  when  he  is 
done,  another  assents  by  '  yes,'  or  dissents  by 
'  no  ; '  and  then  states  his  reasons,  which  are 
listened  to  with  equal  attention.  Even  the  chil- 
dren are  more  peaceable  than  any  other  children. 
I  never  heard  an  angry  word  among  them,  nor 
any  quarrelling  ;  although  there  were,  at  least, 
five  hundred  of  them  together,  and  continually  at 
play.  With  all  this  quietness  of  spirit,  they  are 
brave  when  put  to  the  test  ;  and  are  an  overmatch 
for  an  equal  number  of  Blackfeet." 

The  foregoing  observations,  though  gathered 
from  Mr.  Wyeth  as  relative  to  the  Flatheads,  ap- 
ply, in  the  main,  to  the  Skynses  also.  Captain 
Bonneville,  during  his  sojourn  with  the  latter, 
took  constant  occasion,  in  conversing  with  their 
principal  men,  to  encourage  them  in  the  cultiva- 
tion of  moral  and  religious  habits  ;  drawing  a 
comparison  between  their  peaceable  and  comtort- 
able  course  of  life  and  thai  ol  other  tribes,  and 
attributing  it  to  their  superior  sense  of  morality 
and  religion.  He  frequently  attended  their  relig- 
ious services,  with  his  people  ;  always  enjoining 
on  the  latter  the  most  reverential  deportment  ; 
and  he  observed  that  the  poor  Indians  were  always 
pleased  to  have  the  white  men  present. 

The  disposition  of  these  tribes  is  evidently  favor- 
able to  a  considerable  degree  of  civilization.  A 
few  farmers  settled  among  them  might  lead 
them,  Captain  Bonneville  thinks,  to  till  the  earth 
and  cultivate  grain  ;  the  country  of  the  Skynses 
and  Nez  Perces  is  admirably  adapted  for  the  rais- 
ing of  cattle.  A  Chiistian  missionary  or  two,  and 
some  trifling  assistance  from  government,  to  pro- 
tect them  from  the  predatory  and  warlike  tribes, 
might  lay  the  foundation  of  a  Christian  people  in 
the  midst  of  the  great  western  wilderness,  who 
would  "  wear  the  Americans  near  their  hearts." 

We  must  not  omit  to  observe,  however,  in  quali- 
fication of  the  sanctity  of  this  Sabbath  in  the 
wilderness,  that  these  tribes  who  are  all  ardently 
addicted  to  gambling  and  horseracing,  make  Sun- 
day a  peculiar  day  for  recreations  of  the  kind,  not 
deeming  them  in  any  wise  out  of  season.  After 
prayers  and  pious  ceremonials  are  over,  there  is 
scarce  an  hour  in  the  day,  says  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, that  you  do  not  see  several  horses  racing  at 
full  speed  ;  and  in  every  corner  of  the  camp  are 
groups  of  gamblers,  ready  to  stake  everything 
upon  the  all-absorbing  game  of  hand.  The  In- 
dians, says  Wyeth,  appear  to  enjoy  their  amuse- 
ments with  more  zest  than  the  whites.  They  are 
great  gamblers  ;  and  in  proportion  to  their  means, 
play  bolder  and  bet  higher  than  white  men. 

The  cultivation  of  the  religious  feeling,  above 
noted,  among  the  savages,  has  been  at  times  a 
convenient  policy  with  some  of  the  more  knowing 
traders  ;  who  have  derived  great  credit  and  influ- 
ence among  them  by  being  considered  "  medicine 
men  ;"  that  is,  men  gifted  with  mysterious  knowl- 
edge. This  feeling  is  also  at  times  played  upon 
by  religious  charlatans,  who  are  to  be  found  in 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


363 


savage  as  well  as  civilized  life.  One  of  these  was 
noted  by  Wyeth,  during  his  sojourn  among  the 
Flatheads.  A  new  great  man,  says  he,  is  rising 
in  the  camp,  who  aims  at  power  and  sway.  He 
covers  his  designs  under  the  ample  cloak  of  relig- 
ion ;  inculcating  some  new  doctrines  and  cere- 
monials among  those  who  are  more  simple  than 
himself.  He  has  already  made  proselytes  of  one 
fifth  of  the  camp  ;  beginning  by  working  on  the 
women,  the  children,  and  the  weak-minded.  His 
followers  are  all  dancing  on  the  plain,  to  their 
own  vocal  music.  The  more  knowing  ones  of 
the  tribe  look  on  and  laugh  ;  thinking  it  all  too 
foolish  to  do  harm  ;  but  they  will  soon  find  that 
women,  children,  and  fools,  form  a  large  majority 
of  every  community,  and  they  will  have,  eventu- 
ally, to  follow  the  new  light,  or  be  considered 
among  the  profane.  As  soon  as  a  preacher  or 
pseudo  prophet  of  the  kind  gets  followers  enough, 
he  either  takes  command  of  the  tribe,  or  branches 
off  and  sets  up  for  an  independent  chief  and 
"  medicine  man." 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

SCARCITY  IN  THE  CAMP — REFUSAL  OF  SUPPLIES 
BY  THE  HUDSON'S  BAY  COMPANY— CONDUCT 
OF  THE  INDIANS — A  HUNGRY  RETREAT — JOHN 
DAY'S  RIVER — THE  BLUE  MOUNTAINS — SALMON 
FISHING  ON  SNAKE  RIVER — MESSENGERS  FROM 
THE  CROW  COUNTRY — BEAR  RIVER  VALLEY — 
IMMENSE  MIGRATION  OF  BUFFALO — DANGER 
OF  BUFFALO  HUNTING— A  WOUNDED  INDIAN 
— EUTAW  INDIANS — A  "  SURROUND"  OF  AN- 
TELOPES. 

PROVISIONS  were  now  growing  scanty  in  the 
camp,  and  Captain  Bonneville  found  it  necessary 
to  seek  a  new  neighborhood.  Taking  leave, 
therefore,  of  his  friends,  the  Skynses,  he  set  off  to 
the  westward,  and,  crossing  a  low  range  of 
mountains,  encamped  on  the  head-waters  of  the 
Ottolais.  Being  now  within  thirty  miles  of  Fort 
Wallah-Wallah,  the  trading  post  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  he  sent  a  small  detachment  of  men 
thither  to  purchase  corn  for  the  subsistence  of  his 
party.  The  men  were  well  received  at  the  fort  ; 
but  all  supplies  for  their  camp  were  peremptorily 
refused.  Tempting  offers  were  made  them,  how- 
ever, if  they  would  leave  their  present  employ, 
and  enter  into  the  service  of  the  company  ;  but 
they  were  not  to  be  seduced. 

When  Captain  Bonneville  saw  his  messengers 
return  empty-handed,  he  ordered  an  instant  move, 
for  there  was  imminent  danger  of  famine.  He 
pushed  forward  down  the  course  of  the  Ottolais, 
which  runs  diagonal  to  the  Columbia,  and  falls 
into  it  about  fifty  miles  below  the  Wallah-Wallah. 
His  route  lay  through  a  beautiful  undulating 
country,  covered  with  horses  belonging  to  the 
Skynses,  who  sent  them  there  for  pasturage. 

On  reaching  the  Columbia,  Captain  Bonneville 
hoped  to  open  a  trade  with  the  natives,  for  fish 
and  other  provisions,  but  to  his  surprise  they  kept 
aloof,  and  even  hid  themselves  on  his  approach. 
He  soon  discovered  that  they  were  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  who  had 
forbidden  them  to  trade,  or  hold  any  communion 
with  him.  He  proceeded  along  the  Columbia,  but 
it  was  everywhere  the  same  ;  not  an  article  of  pro- 
visions was  to  be  obtained  from  the  natives,  and 
he  was  at  length  obliged  to  kill  a  couple  of  his 
horses  to  sustain  his  famishing  people.  He  now 


came  to  a  halt,  and  consulted  what  was  to  be 
done.  The  broad  and  beautiful  Columbia  lay  be- 
fore them,  smooth  and  unruffled  as  a  mirror  ;  a 
little  more  journeying  would  take  them  to  its 
lower  region  ;  to  the  noble  valley  of  the  Walla- 
mut,  their  projected  winter  quarters.  To  advance 
under  present  circumstances  would  be  to  court 
starvation.  The  resources  of  the  country  were 
locked  against  them,  by  the  influence  of  a  jealous 
and  powerful  monopoly.  If  they  reached  the 
Wallamut,  they  could  scarcely  hope  to  obtain 
sufficient  supplies  for  the  winter  ;  if  they  lingered 
any  longer  in  the  country  the  snows  would 
gather  upon  the  mountains  and  cut  off  their  re- 
treat. By  hastening  their  return,  they  would  be 
able  to  reach  the  Blue  Mountains  just  in  time  to 
find  the  elk,  the  deer,  and  the  bighorn  ;  and  after 
they  had  supplied  themselves  with  provisions,  they 
might  push  through  the  mountains  before  they 
were  entirely  blocked  up  by  snow.  Influenced  by 
these  considerations,  Captain  Bonneville  reluc- 
tantly turned  his  back  a  second  time  on  the  Co- 
lumbia,  and  set  off  for  the  Blue  Mountains.  He 
took  his  course  up  John  Day's  River,  so  called 
from  one  of  the  hunters  in  the  original  Astorian 
enterprise.  As  famine  was  at  his  heels,  he  trav- 
elled fast,  and  reached  the  mountains  by  the  ist 
of  October.  He  entered  by  the  opening  made  by 
John  Day's  River  ;  it  was  a  rugged  and  difficult 
defile,  but  he  and  his  men  had  become  accus- 
tomed to  hard  scrambles  of  the  kind.  Fortunate- 
ly, the  September  rains  had  extinguished  the  fires 
which  recently  spread  over  these  regions  ;  and  the 
mountains,  no  longer  wrapped  in  smoke,  now  re- 
vealed all  their  grandeur  and  sublimity  to  the  eye. 

They  were  disappointed  in  their  expectation  of 
finding  abundant  game  in  the  mountains  ;  large 
bands  of  the  natives  had  passed  through,  return- 
ing from  their  fishing  expeditions,  and  had  driven 
all  the  game  before  them.  It  was  only  now  and 
then  that  the  hunters  could  bring  in  sufficient  to 
keep  the  party  from  starvation. 

To  add  to  their  distress,  they  mistook  their 
route,  and  wandered  for  ten  days  among  high 
and  bald  hills  of  clay.  At  length,  after  much 
perplexity,  they  made  their  way  to  the  banks  of 
Snake  River,  following  the  course  of  which,  they 
were  sure  to  reach  their  place  of  destination. 

It  was  the  2oth  of  October  when  they  found 
themselves  once  more  upon  this  noted  stream. 
The  Shoshokoes,  whom  they  had  met  with  in  such 
scanty  numbers  on  their  journey  down  the  river, 
now  absolutely  thronged  its  banks  to  profit  by 
the  abundance  of  salmon,  and  lay  up  a  stock  for 
winter  provisions.  Scaffolds  were  everywhere 
erected,  and  immense  quantities  of  fish  drying 
upon  them.  At  this  season  of  the  year,  however, 
the  salmon  are  extremely  poor,  and  the  travellers 
needed  their  keen  sauce  of  hunger  to  give  them  a 
relish. 

In  some  places  the  shores  were  completely  cov- 
ered with  a  stratum  of  dead  salmon,  exhausted  in 
ascending  the  river,  or  destroyed  at  the  falls  ;  the 
fetid  odor  of  which  tainted  the  air. 

It  was  not  until  the  travellers  reached  the  head- 
waters of  the  Portneuf  that  they  really  found 
themselves  in  a  region  of  abundance.  Here  the 
buffalo  were  in  immense  herds  ;  and  here  they  re- 
mained for  three  days,  slaying  and  cooking,  and 
feasting,  and  indemnifying  themselves  by  an 
enormous  carnival,  for  a  long  and  hungry  Lent. 
Their  horses,  too,  found  good  pasturage,  and  en- 
joyed a  little  rest  after  a  severe  spell  of  hard  trav- 
elling. 

During  this  period,  two  horsemen  arrived  at  the. 


364 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


camp,  who  proved  to  he  messengers  sent  express 
for  supplies  from  Montero's  party  ;  which  had 
been  sent  to  beat  up  the  Crow  country  and  the 
Black  Hills,  and  to  winter  on  the  Arkansas.  They 
reported  that  all  was  well  with  the  party,  but  that 
they  had  not  been  able  to  accomplish  the  whole  of 
their  mission,  and  were  still  in  the  Crow  country, 
where  they  should  remain  until  joined  by  Captain 
Bonneville  in  the  spring-.  The  captain  retained 
the  messengers  with  him  until  the  I7th  of  Novem- 
ber, when,  having  reached  the  caches  on  Bear 
River,  and  procured  thence  the  required  sup- 
plies, he  sent  them  back  to  their  party  ;  appointing 
a  rendezvous  toward  the  last  of  June  following,  on 
the  forks  of  Wind  River  valley,  in  the  Crow 
country. 

He  now  remained  several  days  encamped  near 
the  caches,  and  having  discovered  a  small  band  of 
Shoshonies  in  his  neighborhood,  purchased  from 
them  lodges,  furs,  and  other  articles  of  winter 
comfort,  and  arranged  with  them  to  encamp 
together  during  the  winter. 

The  place  designed  by  the  captain  for  the  win- 
tering ground  was  on  the  upper  part  of  Bear 
River,  some  distance  off.  He  delayed  approach- 
ing it  as  long  as  possible,  in  order  to  avoid  driving 
off  the  buffalo,  which  would  be  needed  for  winter 
provisions.  He  accordingly  moved  forward  but 
slowly,  merely  as  the  want  of  game  and  grass 
obliged  him  to  shift  his  position.  The  weather 
had  already  become  extremely  cold,  and  the 
snow  lay  to  a  considerable  depth.  To  enable  the 
horses  to  carry  as  much  dried  meat  as  possible, 
he  caused  a  cache  to  be  made,  in  which  all  the 
baggage  that  could  be  spared  was  deposited.  This 
done,  the  party  continued  to  move  slowly  toward 
their  winter  quarters. 

They  were  not  doomed,  however,  to  suffer  from 
scarcity  during  the  present  winter.  The  people 
upon  Snake  River  having  chased  off  the  buffalo 
before  the  snow  had  become  deep,  immense  herds 
now  came  trooping  over  the  mountains  ;  forming 
dark  masses  on  their  sides,  from  which  their 
deep-mouthed  bellowing  sounded  like  the  low 
peals  and  mutterings  from  a  gathering  thunder- 
cloud. In  effect,  the  cloud  broke,  and  down  came 
the  torrent  thundering  into  the  valley.  It  is  ut- 
terly impossible,  according  to  Captain  Bonneville, 
to  convey  an  idea  of  the  effect  produced  by  the 
sight  of  such  countless  throngs  of  animals  of  such 
bulk  and  spirit,  all  rushing  forward  as  if  swept  on 
by  a  whirlwind. 

The  long  privation  which  the  travellers  had 
suffered  gave  uncommon  ardor  to  their  present 
hunting.  One  of  the  Indians  attached  to  the  party, 
finding  himself  on  horseback  in  the  midst  of  the 
buffaloes,  without  either  rifle,  or  bow  and  arrows, 
dashed  after  a  fine  cow  that  was  passing  close  by 
him,  and  plunged  his  knife  into  her  side  with  such 
lucky  aim  as  to  bring  her  to  the  ground.  It  was 
a  daring  deed  ;  but  hunger  had  made  him  almost 
desperate. 

The  buffaloes  are  sometimes  tenacious  of  life, 
and  must  be  wounded  in  particular  parts.  A  ball 
striking  the  shagged  frontlei  of  a  bull  produces 
no  other  effect  than  a  toss  of  the  head  and  greater 
exasperation  ;  on  the  contrary,  a  ball  striking  the 
forehead  of  a  cow  is  fatal.  Several  instances  oc- 
curred during  this  great  hunting  bout,  of  bulls 
fighting  furiously  after  having  received  mortal 
wounds.  Wyeth,  also,  was  witness  to  an  instance 
of  the  kind  while  encamped  with  Indians.  During 
a  grand  hunt  of  the  buffalo,  one  of  the  Indians 
pressed  a  bull  so  closely  that  the  animal  turned 
suddenly  on  him.  His  horse  stopped  short,  or 


started  back,  and  threw  him.  Before  he  could 
rise  the  bull  rushed  furiously  upon  him,  and  gored 
him  in  the  chest  so  that  his  breath  came  out  at 
the  aperture.  He  was  conveyed  back  to  the 
camp,  and  his  wound  was  dressed.  Giving  him- 
self up  for  slain,  he  called  round  him  his  friends, 
and  made  his  will  by  word  of  mouth.  It  was 
something  like  a  death  chant,  and  at  the  end  of 
every  sentence  those  around  responded  in  con- 
cord. He  appeared  no  ways  intimidated  by  the 
approach  of  death.  "  I  think,"  adds  Wyeth, 
"  The  Indians  die  better  than  the  white  men  ; 
perhaps,  from  having  less  fear  about  the  future." 

The  buffalo  may  be  approached  very  near,  if 
the  hunter  keeps  to  the  leeward  ;  but  they  are 
quick  of  scent,  and  will  take  the  alarm  and  move 
off  from  a  party  of  hunters  to  the  windward,  even 
when  two  miles  distant. 

The  vast  herds  which  had  poured  down  into  the 
Bear  River  valley  were  now  snow-bound,  and 
remained  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  camp 
throughout  the  winter.  This  furnished  the  trap- 
pers and  their  Indian  friends  a  perpetual  carnival  ; 
so  that,  to  slay  and  eat  seemed  to  be  the  main  oc- 
cupations of  the  day.  It  is  astonishing  what  loads 
of  meat  it  requires  to  cope  with  the  appetite  of  a 
hunting  camp. 

The  ravens  and  wolves  soon  came  in  for  their 
share  of  the  good  cheer.  These  constant  at- 
tendants of  the  hunter  gathered  in  vast  numbers 
as  the  winter  advanced.  They  might  be  com- 
pletely out  of  sight,  but  at  the  report  of  a  gun, 
flights  of  ravens  would  immediately  be  seen  hover- 
ing in  the  air,  no  one  knew  whence  they  came  ; 
while  the  sharp  visages  of  the  wolves  would  peep 
down  from  the  brow  of  every  hill,  waiting  for  the 
hunter's  departure  to  pounce  upon  the  carcass. 

Beside  the  buffaloes,  there  were  other  neighbers 
snow-bound  in  the  valley,  whose  presence  did  not 
promise  to  be  so  advantageous.  This  was  a  band 
of  Eutaw  Indians  who  were  encamped  higher  up 
on  the  river.  They  are  a  poor  tribe  that,  in  a 
scale  of  the  various  tribes  inhabiting  these  re- 
gions, would  rank  between  the  Shoshonies  and 
the  Shoshokoes  or  Root  Diggers  ;  though  more 
bold  and  warlike  than  the  latter.  They  have 
but  few  rifles  among  them,  and  are  generally 
armed  with  bows  and  arrows. 

As  this  band  and  the  Shoshonies  were  at  deadly 
feud,  on  account  of  old  grievances,  and  as  neither 
party  stood  in  awe  of  the  other,  it  was  feared 
some  bloody  scenes  might  ensue.  Captain  Bonne- 
ville, therefore,  undertook  the  office  of  pacificator, 
and  sent  to  the  Eutaw  chiefs,  inviting  them  to  a 
friendly  smoke,  in  order  to  bring  about  a  recon- 
ciliation. His  invitation  was  proudly  declined  ; 
whereupon  he  went  to  them  in  person,  and  suc- 
ceeded in  effecting  a  suspension  of  hostilities 
until  the  chiefs  of  the  two  tribes  could  meet  in 
council.  The  braves  of  the  two  rival  camps  sul- 
lenly acquiesced  in  the  arrangement.  They 
would  take  their  seats  upon  the  hill  tops,  and 
watch  their  quondam  enemies  hunting  the  buffalo 
in  the  plain  below,  and  evidently  repine  that  their 
hands  were  tied  up  from  a  skirmish.  The  worthy 
captain  however,  succeeded  in  carrying  through 
his  benevolent  mediation.  The  chiefs  met  ;  the 
amicable  pipe  was  smoked,  the  hatchet  buried, 
and  peace  formally  proclaimed.,  After  this,  both 
camps  united  and  mingled  in  social  intercourse. 
Private  quarrels,  however,  would  occasionally 
occur  in  hunting,  about  the  division  of  the  game, 
and  blows  would  sometimes  be  exchanged  over 
the  carcass  of  a  buffalo  ;  but  the  chiefs  wisely  took 
no  notice  of  these  individual  brawls. 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


One  day  the  scouts,  who  had  been  ranging-  the 
hills,  brought  news  of  several  large  herds  of  an- 
telopes in  a  small  valley  at  no  great  distance. 
This  produced  a  sensation  among  the  Indians, 
for  both  tribes  were  in  ragged  condition,  and 
sadly  in  want  of  those  shirts  made  of  the  skin  of  the 
antelope.  It  was  determined  to  have  "  a  sur- 
round," as  the  mode  of  hunting  that  animal  is 
called.  Everything  now  assumed  an  air  of  mys- 
tic solemnity  and  importance.  The  chiefs  pre- 
pared their  medicines  or  charms  each  according 
to  his  own  method,  or  fancied  inspiration,  gener- 
ally with  the  compound  of  certain  simples  ;  others 
consulted  the  entrails  of  animals  which  they  had 
sacrificed,  and  thence  drew  favorable  auguries. 
After  much  grave  smoking  and  deliberating  it 
was  at  length  proclaimed  that  all  who  were  able 
to  lift  a  club,  man,  woman,  or  child,  should 
muster  for  "  the  surround."  When  all  had  con- 
gregated, they  moved  in  rude  procession  to  the 
nearest  point  of  the  valley  in  question,  and  there 
halted.  Another  course  of  smoking  and  delibera- 
ing,  of  which  the  Indians  are  so  fond,  took  place 
among  the  chiefs.  Directions  were  then  issued 
for  the  horsemen  to  make  a  circuit  of  about  seven 
miles,  so  as  to  encompass  the  herd.  When  this 
was  clone,  the  whole  mounted  force  dashed  off 
simultaneously,  at  full  speed,  shouting  and  yelling 
at  the  top  of  their  voices.  In  a  short  space  of  time 
the  antelopes,  started  from  their  hiding-places, 
came  bounding  from  all  points  into  the  valley. 
The  riders,  now  gradually  contracting  their  circle, 
brought  them  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  spot 
where  the  senior  chief,  surrounded  by  the  elders, 
male  and  female,  were  seated  in  supervision  of 
the  chase.  The  antelopes,  nearly  exhausted  with 
fatigue  and  fright,  and  bewildered  by  perpetual 
whooping,  made  no  effort  to  break  through  the 
ring  of  the  hunters,  but  ran  round  in  small  cir- 
cles, until  man,  woman,  and  child  beat  them 
down  with  bludgeons.  Such  is  the  nature  of  that 
species  of  antelope  hunting,  technically  called  "  a 
surround." 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

A  FESTIVE  WINTER — CONVERSION  OF  THE  SHO- 
SHONIES— VISIT  OF  TWO  FREE  TRAPPERS— 
GAYETY  IN  THE  CAMP — A  TOUCH  OF  THE 
TENDER  PASSION — THE  RECLAIMED  SQUAW — 
AN  INDIAN  FINE  LADY — AN  ELOPEMENT — A 
PURSUIT — MARKET  VALUE  OF  A  BAD  WIFE. 

GAME  continued  to  abound  throughout  the  win- 
ter, and  the  camp  was  overstocked  with  provis- 
ions. Beef  and  venison,  humps  and  haunches, 
buffalo  tongues  and  marrow-bones,  were  con- 
stantly cooking  at  every  fire  ;  and  the  whole  at- 
mosphere was  redolent  with  the  savory  fumes  of 
roast  meat.  It  was,  indeed,  a  continual  "  feast  of 
fat  things,"  and  though  there  might  be  a  lack  of 
"wine  upon  the  lees,"  yet  we  have  shown  that 
a  substitute  was  occasionally  to  be  found  in  honey 
and  alcohol. 

Both  the  Shoshonies  and  the  Eutaws  conducted 
themselves  with  great  propriety.  It  is  true,  they 
now  and  then  filched  a  few  trifles  from  their  good 
friends,  the  Big  Hearts,  when  their  backs  were 
turned  ;  but  then,  they  always  treated  them  to 
their  faces  with  the  utmost  deference  and  respect, 
and  good-humoredly  vied  with  the  trappers  in  all 
kinds  of  feats  of  activity  and  mirthful  sports. 
The  two  tribes  maintained  toward  each  other, 


also,  a  friendliness  of  aspect  which  gave  Captain 
Bonneville  reason  to  hope  that  all  past  ani- 
mosity was  effectually  buried. 

The  two  rival  bands,  however,  had  not  long 
been  mingled  in  this  social  manner,  before  their 
ancient  jealousy  began  to  break  out  in  a  new 
form.  The  senior  chief  of  the  Shoshonies  was  a 
thinking  man,  and  a  man  of  observation.  He 
had  been  among  the  Nez  Perce's,  listened  to  their 
new  code  of  morality  and  religion  received  from 
the  white  men,  and  attended  their  devotional  ex- 
ercises. He  had  observed  the  effect  of  all  this,  in 
elevating  the  tribe  in  the  estimation  of  the  white 
men  ;  and  determined,  by  the  same  means,  to 
gain  for  his  own  tribe  a  superiority  over  their 
ignorant  rivals,  the  Eutaws.  He  accordingly 
assembled  his  people,  and  promulgated  among 
them  the  mongrel  doctrines  and  form  of  worship 
of  the  Nez  Perce's  ;  recommending  the  same  to 
their  adoption.  The  Shoshonies  were  struck  with 
the  novelty,  at  least,  of  the  measure,  and  entered 
into  it  with  spirit.  They  began  to  observe  Sun- 
days and  holidays,  and  to  have  their  devotional 
dances,  and  chants,  and  other  ceremonials,  about 
which  the  ignorant  Eutaws  knew  nothing  ;  while 
they  exerted  their  usual  competition  in  snooting 
and  horseracing,  and  the  renowned  game  of  hand. 

Matters  were  going  on  thus  pleasantly  and 
prosperously,  in  this  motley  community  of  white 
and  red  men,  when,  one  morning,  two  stark  free 
trappers,  arrayed  in  the  height  of  savage  finery, 
and  mounted  on  steeds  as  fine  and  as  fiery  as 
themselves,  and  all  jingling  with  hawks'  bells, 
came  galloping,  with  whoop  and  halloo,  into  the 
camp. 

They  were  fresh  from  the  winter  encampment 
of  the  American  Fur  Company,  in  the  Green  River 
valley  ;  and  had  come  to  pay  their  old  comrades 
of  Captain  Bonneville's  company  a  visit.  An  idea 
may  be  formed  from  the  scenes  we  have  already 
given  of  conviviality  in  the  wilderness,  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  these  game  birds  were  received  by 
those  of  their  feather  in  the  camp  ;  what  feasting, 
what  revelling,  what  boasting,  what  bragging, 
what  ranting  and  roaring,  and  racing  and  gam- 
bling, and  squabbling  and  fighting,  ensued  among 
these  boon  companions.  Captain  Bonneville,  it 
is  true,  maintained  always  a  certain  degree  of  law 
and  order  in  his  camp,  and  checked  each  fierce 
excess  ;  but  the  trappers,  in  their  seasons  of  idle- 
ness and  relaxation  require  a  degree  of  license 
and  indulgence,  to  repay  them  for  the  long  priva- 
tions and  almost  incredible  hardships  of  their 
periods  of  active  service. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  feasting  and  frolicking,  a 
freak  of  the  tender  passion  intervened,  and 
wrought  a  complete  change  in  the  scene.  Among 
the  Indian  beauties  in  the  camp  of  the  Eutaws 
and  Shoshonies,  the  free  trappers  discovered  two, 
who  had  whilom  figured  as  their  squaws.  These 
connections  frequently  take  place  tor  a  season, 
and  sometimes  continue  lor  years,  if  not  per- 
petually ;  but  are  apt  to  be  broken  when  the  free 
trapper  starts  off,  suddenly,  on  some  distant  and 
rough  expedition. 

In  the  present  instance,  these  wild  blades  were 
anxious  to  regain  their  belles  ;  nor  were  the  latter 
loath  once  more  to  come  under  their  protection. 
The  free  trapper  combines,  in  the  eye  of  an  In- 
dian girl,  all  that  is  dashing  and  heroic  in  a  war- 
rior of  her  own  race — whose  gait,  and  garb,  and 
bravery  he  emulates — with  all  that  is  gallant  and 
glorious  in  the  white  man.  And  then  the  indul- 
gence with  which  he  treats  her,  the  finery  in  which 
he  decks  her  out,  the  state  in  which  she  moves 


366 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


the  sway  she  enjoys  over  both  his  purse  and  per- 
son ;  instead  of  being  the  drudge  and  slave  of  an 
Indian  husband,  obliged  to  carry  his  pack,  and 
build  his  lodge,  and  make  his  fire,  and  bear  his 
cross  humors  and  dry  blows.  No  ;  there  is  no 
comparison,  in  the  eyes  of  an  aspiring  belle  of  the 
wilderness,  between  a  free  trapper  and  an  Indian 
brave. 

With  respect  to  one  ot  the  parties  the  matter 
was  easily  arranged.  The  beauty  in  question  was 
a  pert  little  Eutaw  wench,  that  had  been  taken 
prisoner,  in  some  war  excursion,  by  a  Shoshonie. 
She  was  readily  ransomed  lor  a  few  articles  of 
trifling  value  ;  and  forthwith  figured  about  the 
camp  in  fine  array,  "  with  rings  on  her  fingers, 
and  bells  on  her  toes, "  and  a  tossed-up  coquettish 
air  that  made  her  the  envy,  admiration,  and  ab- 
horrence of  all  the  leathern-dressed,  hard-working 
squaws  of  her  acquaintance. 

As  to  the  other  beauty,  it  was  quite  a  different 
matter.  She  had  become  the  wife  of  a  Shoshonie 
brave.  It  is  true,  he  had  another  wife,  of  older 
date  than  the  one  in  question  ;  who,  therefore, 
took  command  in  his  household,  and  treated  his 
new  spouse  as  a  slave  ;  but  the  latter  was  the 
wife  of  his  last  fancy,  his  latest  caprice  ;  and  was 
precious  in  his  eyes.  All  attempt  to  bargain  with 
him,  therefore,  was  useless  ;  the  very  proposition 
was  repulsed  with  anger  and  disdain.  The  spirit 
of  the  trapper  was  roused,  his  pride  was  piqued 
as  well  as  his  passion.  He  endeavored  to  prevail 
upon  his  quondam  mistress  to  elope  with  him. 
His  horses  were  fleet,  the  winter  nights  were  long 
and  dark,  before  daylight  they  would  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  pursuit  ;  and  once  at  the  encamp- 
ment in  Green  River  valley,  they  might  set  the 
whole  band  of  Shoshonies  at  defiance. 

The  Indian  girl  listened  and  longed.  Her  heart 
yearned  after  the  ease  and  splendor  of  condition  of 
a  trapper's  bride,  and  throbbed  to  be  freed  from 
the  capricious  control  of  the  premier  squaw  ;  but 
she  dreaded  the  failure  of  the  plan,  and  the  fury 
of  a  Shoshonie  husband.  They  parted  ;  the  In- 
dian girl  in  tears,  and  the  madcap  trapper  more 
mad  than  ever,  with  his  thwarted  passion. 

Their  interviews  had,  probably,  been  detected, 
and  the  jealousy  of  the  Shoshonie  brave  aroused  : 
a  clamor  of  angry  voices  was  heard  in  his  lodge, 
with  the  sound  of  blows,  and  of  female  weeping 
and  lamenting.  At  night,  as  the  trapper  lay  tossing 
on  his  pallet,  a  soft  voice  whispered  at  the  door 
of  his  lodge.  His  mistress  stood  trembling  before 
him.  She  was  ready  to  follow  whithersoever  he 
should  lead. 

In  an  instant  he  was  up  and  out.  He  had  two 
prime  horses,  sure  and  swift  of  foot,  and  of  great 
wind.  With  stealthy  quiet,  they  were  brought  up 
and  saddled  ;  and  in  a  few  moments  he  and  his 
prize  were  careering  over  the  snow,  with  which 
the  whole  country  was  covered.  In  the  eagerness 
of  escape,  they  had  made  no  provision  tor  their 
journey  ;  days  must  elapse  before  they  could  reach 
their  haven  of  safety,  and  mountains  and  prairies 
be  traversed,  wrapped  in  all  the  desolation  of 
winter.  For  the  present,  however,  they  thought 
of  nothing  but  flight  ;  urging  their  horses  forward 
over  the  dreary  wastes,  and  fancying,  in  the  howl- 
ing of  every  blast,  they  heard  the  yell  of  the  pur- 
suer. 

At  early  dawn,  the  Shoshonie  became  aware  ot 
his  loss.  Mounting  his  swiftest  horse,  he  set  off 
in  hot  pursuit.  He  soon  found  the  trail  of  the 
fugitives,  and  spurred  on  in  hopes  of  overtaking 
them.  The  winds,  however,  which  swept  the  val- 
ley, had  drifted  the  light  snow  into  the  prints 


made  by  the  horses'  hoofs.  In  a  little  while  he 
lost  all  trace  of  them,  and  was  completely  thrown 
out  of  the  chase.  He  knew,  however,  the  situation 
of  the  camp  toward  which  they  were  bound,  and 
a  direct  course  through  the  mountains,  by  which 
he  might  arrive  there  sooner  than  the  fugitives. 
Through  the  most  rugged  defiles,  therelore,  he 
urged  his  course  by  day  and  night,  scarce  pausing- 
until  he  reached  the  camp.  It  was  some  time  be- 
fore the  fugitives  made  their  appearance.  Six 
days  had  they  been  traversing  the  wintry  wilds. 
They  came,  haggard  with  hunger  and  fatigue, 
and  their  horses  faltering  under  them.  The  first 
object  that  met  their  eyes  on  entering  the  camp 
was  the  Shoshonie  brave.  He  rushed,  knife  in 
hand,  to  plunge  it  in  the  heart  that  had  proved 
false  to  him.  The  trapper  threw  himself  before 
the  cowering  form  of  his  mistress,  and,  exhausted 
as  he  was,  prepared  for  a  deadly  struggle.  The 
Shoshonie  paused.  His  habitual  awe  ot  the  white 
man  checked  his  arm  ;  the  trapper's  friends 
crowded  to  the  spot,  and  arrested  him.  A  parley 
ensued.  A  kind  of  criin.  con.  adjudication  took 
place  ;  such  as  frequently  occurs  in  civilized  life. 
A  couple  of  horses  were  declared  to  be  a  fair  com- 
pensation for  the  loss  ot  a  woman  who  had  pre- 
viously lost  her  heart  ;  with  this,  the  Shoshonie 
brave  was  fain  to  pacify  his  passion.  He  returned 
to  Captain  Bonneville's  camp,  somewhat  crest- 
fallen, it  is  true  ;  but  parried  the  officious  con- 
dolements  r\  his  friends  by  observing  that  two 
good  horses  were  very  good  pay  for  one  bad  wife. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BREAKING  UP  OF  WINTER  QUARTERS— MOVE  TO 
GREEN  RIVER— A  TRAPPER  AND  HIS  RIFLE— 
AN  ARRIVAL  IN  CAMP — A  FREE  TRAPPER  AND 
HIS  SQUAW  IN  DISTRESS— STORY  OF  A  LLACK- 
FOOT  BELLE. 

THE  winter  was  now  breaking  up,  the  snows 
were  melted  from  the  hills,  and  from  the  lower 
parts  of  the  mountains,  and  the  time  tor  decamp- 
ing had  arrived.  Captain  Bonneville  dispatched 
a  party  to  the  caches,  wj)o  brought  away  all  the 
effects  concealed  there,  and  on  the  ist  of  April 
(1835),  the  camp  was  broken  up,  and  every  one 
on  the  move.  The  white  men  and  their  allies, 
the  Eutawsand  Shoshonies,  parted  with  many  re- 
grets and  sincere  expressions  of  good-will  ;  for 
their  intercourse  throughout  the  winter  had  been 
of  the  most  friendly  kind. 

Captain  Bonneville  and  his  party  passed  by 
Ham's  Fork,  and  reached  the  Colorado,  or  Green 
River,  without  accident,  on  the  banks  of  which 
they  remained  during  the  residue  ot  the  spring. 
During  this  time,  they  were  conscious  that  a 
band  of  hostile  Indians  were  hovering  about  their 
vicinity,  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  slay  or 
steal  ;  but  the  vigilant  precautions  ot  Captain 
Bonneville  baffled  all  their  manoeuvres.  In  such 
dangerous  times,  the  experienced  mountaineer  is 
never  without  his  rifle  even  in  camp.  On  guing 
from  lodge  to  lodge  to  visit  his  comrades,  he  takes 
it  with  him.  On  seating  himself  in  a  lodge,  he 
lays  it  beside  him,  ready  to  be  snatched  up  ;  when 
he  goes  out,  he  takes  it  up  as  regularly  as  a  citizen 
would  his  walking-staff.  His  rifle  is  his  constant 
friend  and  protector. 

On  the  loth  of  June,  the  party  were  a  little  to 
the  east  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  where  they 
halted  lor  a  time  in  excellent  pasturage,  to  give 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


367 


their  horses  a  chance  to  recruit  their  strength  for 
a  long  journey  ;  for  it  was  Captain  Bonneville's 
intention  to  shape  his  course  to  the  settlements  ; 
having  already  been  detained  by  the  complication 
of  his  duties,  and  by  various  losses  and  impedi- 
ments, far  beyond  the  time  specified  in  his  leave 
of  absence. 

While  the  party  was  thus  reposing  in  the  neigh- 
borhood ot  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  a  solitary 
free  trapper  rode  one  day  into  the  camp,  and  ac- 
costed Captain  Bonrieville.  He  belonged,  he 
said,  to  a  party  of  thirty  hunters,  who  had  just 
passed  through  the  neighborhood,  but  whom  he 
had  abandoned  in  consequence  of  their  ill  treat- 
ment of  a  brother  trapper  ;  whom  they  had  cast 
off  from  their  party,  and  left  with  his  bag  and 
baggage,  and  an  Indian  wife  into  the  bargain,  in 
the  midst  of  a  desolate  prairie.  The  horseman 
gave  a  piteous  account  of  the  situation  of  this 
helpless  pair,  and  solicited  the  loan  ot  horses  to 
bring  them  and  their  effects  to  the  camp. 

The  captain  was  not  a  man  to  refuse  assistance 
to  any  one  in  distress,  especially  when  there  was 
a  woman  in  the  case  ;  horses  were  immediately 
dispatched,  with  an  escort,  to  aid  the  unfortunate 
couple.  The  next  clay  they  made  their  appear- 
ance with  all  their  effects  ;  the  man,  a  stalwart 
mountaineer,  with  a  peculiarly  game  look  ;  the 
woman,  a  young  Blackfoot  beauty,  arrayed  in  the 
trappings'ancl  trinketry  of  a  free  trapper's  bride. 

Finding  the  woman  to  be  quick-witted  and 
communicative,  Captain  Bonneville  entered  into 
conversation  with  her,  and  obtained  from  her 
many  particulars  concerning  the  habits  and  cus- 
toms of  her  tribe  ;  especially  their  wars  and  hunt- 
ings. They  pride  themselves  upon  being  the 
"best  legs  of  the  mountains,"  and  hunt  the  buf- 
falo on  foot.  This  is  done  in  spring  time,  when 
the  frosts  have  thawed  and  the  ground  is  soft. 
The  heavy  buffalo  then  sink  over  their  hoofs  at 
every  step,  and  are  easily  overtaken  by  the  Black- 
feet,  whose  fleet  steps  press  lightly  on  the  sur- 
face. It  is  said,  however,  that  the  buffalo  on  the 
Pacific  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  fleeter 
and  more  active  than  on  the  Atlantic  side  ;  those 
upon  the  plains  of  the  Columbia  can  scarcely  be 
overtaken  by  a  horse  that  would  outstrip  the  same 
animal  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Platte,  the 
usual  hunting  ground  of  the  Blackfeet.  In  the 
course  of  further  conversation,  Captain  Bonneville 
drew  from  the  Indian  woman  her  whole  story  ; 
which  gave  a  picture  of  savage  life,  and  ot  the 
drudgery  and  hardships  to  which  an  Indian  wife 
is  subject. 

"  I  was  the  wife,'  said  she,  "  of  a  Blackfoot 
warrior,  and  I  served  him  faithfully.  Who  was 
so  well  served  as  he  ?  Whose  lodge  was  so  well 
provided,  or  kept  so  clean  ?  I  brought  wood  in 
the  morning,  and  placed  water  always  at  hand. 
I  watched  for  his  coming  ;  and  he  found  his  meat 
cooked  and  ready.  If  he  rose  to  go  forth,  there 
was  nothing  to  delay  him.  1  searched  the  thought 
that  was  in  his  heart,  to  save  him  the  trouble  of 
speaking.  When  I  went  abroad  on  errands  for 
him,  the  chiefs  and  warriors  smiled  upon  me,  and 
the  young  braves  spoke  soft  things,  in  secret  ; 
but  my  feei  were  in  the  straight  path,  and  my 
eyes  could  see  nothing  but  him. 

"  When  he  went  out  to  hunt,  or  to  war,  who 
aided  to  equip  him,  but  I  ?  When  he  returned, 
I  met  him  at  the  door  ;  I  took  his  gun  ;  and  he 
entered  without  further  thought.  While  he  sat 
and  smoked,  I  unloaded  his  horses  ;  tied  them  to 
the  stakes,  brought  in  their  loads,  and  was  quick- 
ly at  his  feet.  If  his  moccasins  were  wet  I  took 


them  off  and  put  on  others  which  weie  dry  and 
warm.  I  dressed  all  the  skins  he  had  taken  in 
the  chase.  He  could  never  say  to  me,  why  is  it 
not  done  ?  He  hunted  the  deer,  the  antelope, 
and  the  buffalo,  and  he  watched  for  the  enemy. 
Everything  else  was  done  by  me.  \Vhen  our  peo- 
pie  moved  their  camp,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 
rode  away  ;  free  as  though  he  had  fallen  from 
the  skies.  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  labor 
of  the  camp  ;  it  was  I  that  packed  the  horses  and 
led  them  on  the  journey.  When  we  halted  in  the 
evening,  and  he  sat  with  the  other  braves  and 
smoked,  it  was  I  that  pitched  his  lodge  ;  and 
when  he  came  to  eat  and  sleep,  his  supper  and 
his  bed  were  ready. 

"  I  served  him  faithfully  ;  and  what  was  my  re- 
ward ?  A  cloud  was  always  on  his  brow,  and 
sharp  lightning  on  his  tongue.  1  was  his  dog  ; 
and  not  his  wife. 

"  Who  was  it  that  scarred  and  bruised  me  ?  It 
was  he.  My  brother  saw  how  I  was  treated.  His 
heart  was  big  for  me.  He  begged  me  to  leave  my 
tyrant  and  fly.  Where  could  1  go  ?  If  retaken, 
who  would  protect  me  ?  My  brother  was  not  a 
chief  ;  he  could  not  save  me  from  blows  and 
wounds,  perhaps  death.  At  length  I  was  per- 
suaded. I  followed  my  brother  from  the  village. 
He  pointed  the  way  to  the  Nez  Perces,  and  bade 
me  go  and  leave  in  peace  among  them.  We 
parted.  On  the  third  day  I  saw  the  lodges  of  the 
Nez  Perces  before  me.  I  paused  for  a  moment, 
and  had  no  heart  to  go  on  ;  but  my  horse  neigh- 
ed, and  I  took  it  as  a  good  sign,  and  suffered 
him  to  gallop  forward.  In  a  little  while  I  was  in 
the  midst  of  the  lodges.  As  I  sat  silent  on  my 
horse,  the  people  gathered  round  me,  and  in- 
quired whence  I  came.  I  told  my  story.  A  chief 
now  wrapped  his  blanket  close  around  him,  and 
bade  me  dismount.  I  obeyed.  He  took  my 
horse  to  lead  him  away.  My  heart  grew  small 
within  me.  I  telt,  on  parting  with  my  horse,  as  if 
my  last  friend  was  gone.  I  had  no  words,  and 
my  eyes  were  dry.  As  he  led  off  my  horse  a 
young  brave  stepped  forward.  '  Are  you  a  chief 
of  the  people  ?'  cried  he.  '  Do  we  listen  to  you 
in  council,  and  follow  you  in  battle  ?  Behold  !  a 
stranger  flies  to  our  camp  from  the  dogs  of  Black- 
feet,  and  asks  protection.  Let  shame  cover  your 
face  !  The  stranger  is  a  woman,  and  alone.  If 
she  were  a  warrior,  or  had  a  warrior  by  her  side, 
your  heart  would  not  be  big  enough  to  take  her 
horse.  But  he  is  yours.  By  the  right  of  war  you 
may  claim  him  ;  but  look  !' — his  bow  was  drawn, 
ancl  the  arrow  ready  ! — '  you  never  shall  cross  his 
back  ! '  The  arrow  pierced  the  heart  of  the  horse, 
and  he  fell  dead. 

"  An  old  woman  said  she  would  be  my  mother. 
She  led  me  to  her  lodge  ;  my  heart  was  thawed 
by  her  kindness,  and  my  eyes  burst  forth  with 
tears  ;  like  the  frozen  fountains  in  springtime. 
She  never  changed  ;  but  as  the  clays  passed  away, 
was  still  a  mother  to  me.  The  people  were  loud 
in  praise  ot  the  young  brave,  and  the  chief  was 
ashamed.  I  lived  in  peace. 

"  A  party  of  trappers  came  to  the  village,  and 
one  of  them  took  me  for  his  wiie.  This  is  he.  I 
am  very  happy  ;  he  treats  me  with  kindness,  and 
I  have  taught  him  the  language  of  my  people. 
As  we  were  travelling  this  way,  some  of  the 
Blackfeet  warriors  beset  us,  and  carried  off  the 
horses  of  the  party.  We  followed,  and  my  hus- 
band held  a  parley  with  them.  The  guns  were 
laid  down,  and  the  pipe  was  lighted  ;  but  some 
of  the  white  men  attempted  to  seize  the  horses  by- 
force,  and  then  a  battle  began.  The  snow  was 


3G8 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


deep  ;  the  white  men  sank  into  it  at  every  step  ; 
but  the  red  men,  with  their  snow-shoes,  passed 
over  the  surface  like  birds,  and  drove  off  many  of 
the  horses  in  sight  of  their  owners.  With  those 
that  remained  we  resumed  our  journey.  At  length 
words  took  place  between  the  leader  of  the  party 
and  my  husband.  He  took  away  our  horses, 
which  had  escaped  in  the  battle,  and  turned  us 
from  his  camp.  My  husband  had  one  good  friend 
among  the  trappers.  That  is  he  (pointing  to  the 
man  who  had  asked  assistance  for  them).  He  is 
a  good  man.  His  heart  is  big.  When  he  came 
in  from  hunting,  and  found  that  we  had  been 
driven  away,  he  gave  up  all  his  wages,  and  fol- 
lowed us,  that  he  might  speak  good  words  for  us 
to  the  white  captain.' 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

RENDEZVOUZ  AT  WIND  RIVER — CAMPAIGN  OF 
MONTERO  AND  HIS  BRIGADE  IN  THE  CROW 
COUNTRY — WARS  BETWEEN  THE  CROWS  AND 
BLACKFEET — DEATH  OF  ARAPOOISH  —  BLACK- 
FEET  LURKERS — SAGACITY  OF  THE  HORSE — 
DEPENDENCE  OF  THE  HUNTER  ON  HIS  HORSE 
— RETURN  TO  THE  SETTLEMENTS. 

ON  the  22d  of  June  Captain  Bonneville  raised 
his  camp,  and  moved  to  the  forks  of  Wind  River  ; 
the  appointed  place  of  rendezvous.  In  a  few  days 
he  was  joined  there  by  the  brigade  of  Montero, 
which  had  been  sent,  in  the  preceding  year,  to 
beat  up  the  Crow  country,  and  afterward  proceed 
to  the  Arkansas.  Montero  had  followed  the  early 
part  of  his  instructions  ;  after  trapping  upon  some 
of  the  upper  streams,  he  proceeded  to  Powder 
River.  Here  he  fell  in  with  the  Crow  villages  or 
bands,  who  treated  him  with  unusual  kindness, 
and  prevailed  upon  him  to  take  up  his  winter 
quarters  among  them. 

The  Crows  at  that  time  were  struggling  almost 
for  existence  with  their  old  enemies,  the  Blackfeet ; 
who,  in  the  past  year,  had  picked  off  the  flower 
of  their  warriors  in  various  engagements,  and 
among  the  rest,  Arapooish,  the  friend  of  the  white 
men.  That  sagacious  and  magnanimous  chief 
had  beheld,  with  grief,  the  ravages  which  war 
was  making  in  his  tribe,  and  that  it  was  declining 
in  force,  and  must  eventually  be  destroyed  unless 
some  signal  blow  could  be  struck  to  retrieve  its 
fortunes.  In  a  pitched  battle  of  the  two  tribes, 
he  made  a  speech  to  his  warriors,  urging  them  to 
set  everything  at  hazard  in  one  furious  charge  ; 
which  done,  he  led  the  way  into  the  thickest  of 
the  foe.  He  was  soon  separated  from  his  men, 
and  fell  covered  with  wounds,  but  his  self-devo- 
tion was  not  in  vain.  The  Blackfeet  were  defeat- 
ed ;  and  from  that  time  the  Crows  plucked  up 
fresh  heart,  and  were  frequently  successful. 

Montero  had  not  been  long  encamped  among 
them,  when  he  discovered  that  the  Blackteet  were 
hovering  about  the  neighborhood.  One  day  the 
hunters  came  galloping  into  the  camp,  and  pro- 
claimed that  a  band  of  the  enemy  was  at  hand. 
The  Crows  flew  to  arms,  leaped  on  their  horses, 
and  dashed  out  in  squadrons  in  pursuit.  They 
overtook  the  retreating  enemy  in  the  midst  of  a 
plain.  A  desperate  light  ensued.  The  Crows 
had  the  advantage  of  numbers,  and  of  fighting  on 
horseback.  The  greater  part  of  the  Blackfeet 
were  slain  ;  the  remnant  took  shelter  in  a  close 
thicket  of  willows,  where  the  horse  could  not 
enter  ;  whence  they  plied  their  bows  vigorously. 


The  Crows  drew  off  out  of  bow-shot,  and  en- 
deavored,  by  taunts  and  bravadoes,  to  draw  the 
warriors  out  of  their  retreat.  A  few  of  the  best 
mounted  among  them  rode  apart  from  the  rest. 
One  of  their  number  then  advanced  alone,  with 
that  martial  air  and  equestrian  grace  for  which 
the  tribe  is  noted.  When  within  an  arrow's 
flight  of  the  thicket,  he  loosened  his  rein,  urged  » 
his  horse  to  full  speed,  threw  his  body  on  the  op- 
posite side,  so  as  to  hang  by  but  one  leg,  and 
present  no  mark  to  the  foe  ;  iu  this  way  he  swept 
along  in  front  of  the  thicket,  launching  his  arrows 
from  under  the  neck  of  his  steed.  Then  regain- 
ing his  seat  in  the  saddle,  he  wheeled  round  and 
returned  whooping  and  scoffing  to  his  compan- 
ions, who  received  him  with  yells  of  applause. 

Another  and  another  horseman  repeated  this 
exploit  ;  but  the  Blackfeet  were  not  to  be  taunted 
out  of  their  safe  shelter.  The  victors  leared  to 
drive  desperate  men  to  extremities,  so  they  for- 
bore to  attempt  the  thicket.  Toward  night  they 
gave  over  the  attack,  and  returned  all-glorious 
with  the  scalps  of  the  slain.  Then  came  on  the 
usual  feasts  and  triumphs  ;  the  scalp-dance  of 
warriors  round  'the  ghastly  trophies,  and  all  the 
other  fierce  revelry  of  barbarous  warfare.  When 
the  braves  had  finished  with  the  scalps,  they  were, 
as  usual,  given  up  to  the  women  and  children, 
and  made  the  objects  of  new  parades  and  dances. 
They  were  then  treasured  up  as  invaluable  tro- 
phies and  decorations  by  the  braves  who  had 
won  them. 

It  is  worthy  of  note,  that  the  scalp  of  a  white 
man,  either  through  policy  or  fear,  is  treated  with 
more  charity  than  that  of  an  Indian.  The  war- 
rior who  won  it  is  entiled  to  his  triumph  if  he 
demands  it.  In  such  case,  the  war  party  alone 
dance  round  the  scalp.  It  is  then  taken  down, 
and  the  shagged  frontlet  of  a  buffalo  substituted 
in  its  place,  and  abandoned  to  the  triumphs  and 
insults  of  the  million. 

To  avoid  being  involved  in  these  guerillas,  as 
well  as  to  escape  from  the  extremely  social  inter- 
course of  the  Crows,  which  began  to  be  oppres- 
sive, Montero  moved  to  the  distance  of  several 
miles  from  their  camps,  and  there  formed  a  winter 
cantonment  of  huts.  He  now  maintained  a  vigi- 
lant watch  at  night.  Their  horses,  which  were 
turned  loose  to  graze  during  the  day,  under  heed- 
ful eyes,  were  brought  in  at  night,  and  shut  up 
in  strong  pens,  built  of  large  logs  of  cotton- 
wood.  The  snows,  during  a  portion  of  the  win- 
ter, were  so  deep  that  the  poor  animals  could 
find  but  little  sustenance.  Here  and  there  a  tuft 
of  grass  would  peer  above  the  snow  ;  but  they 
were  in  general  driven  to  browse  the  twigs  and 
tender  branches  of  the  trees.  When  they  were 
turned  out  in  the  morning,  the  first  moments  of 
freedom  from  the  confinement  of  the  pen  were 
spent  in  frisking  and  gambolling.  This  done, 
they  went  soberly  and  sadly  to  work,  to  giean 
their  scanty  subsistence  for  the  day.  In  the 
meantime  the  men  stripped  the  bark  of  the  cotton 
wood  tree  for  the  evening  fodder.  As  the  poor 
horses  would  return  toward  night,  with  sluggish 
and  dispirited  air,  the  moment  they  saw  their 
owners  approaching  them  with  blankets  filled 
with  cotton-wood  bark,  their  whole  demeanor 
underwent  a  change.  A  universal  neighing  and 
capering  took  place  ;  they  would  rush  forward, 
smell  to  the  blankets,  paw  the  earth,  snort,  whinny 
and  prance  round  with  head  and  tail  erect,  until 
the  blankets  were  opened,  and  the  welcome  prov- 
ender spread  before  them.  These  evidences  of 
intelligence  and  gladness  were  frequently  re- 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


counted  by  the  trappers  as  proving  the  sagacity 
ot  the  animal. 

These  veteran  rovers  of  the  mountains  look 
upon  their  horses  as  in  some  respects  gifted  with 
almost  human  intellect.  An  old  and  experienced 
trapper,  when  mounting  guard  about  the  camp 
in  dark  nights  and  times  of  peril,  gives  heedful 
attention  to  all  the  sounds  and  signs  of  the 
horses.  No  enemy  enters  nor  approaches  the 
camp  without  attracting  their  notice,  and  their 
movements  not  only  give  a  vague  alarm,  but  it  is 
said,  will  even  indicate  to  the  knowing  trapper 
the  very  quarter  whence  the  danger  threatens. 

In  the  daytime,  too,  while  a  hunter  is  engaged 
on  the  prairie,  cutting  up  the  deer  or  buffalo  he 
has  slain,  he  depends  upon  his  faithful  horse  as  a 
sentinel.  The  sagacious  animal  sees  and  smells 
all  round  him,  and  by  his  starting  and  whinnying, 
gives  notice  of  the  approach  of  strangers.  There 
seems  to  be  a  dumb  communion  and  fellowship, 
a  sort  of  fraternal  sympathy  between  the  hunter 
and  his  horse.  They  mutually  rely  upon  each 
other  for  company  and  protection  ;  and  nothing  is 
more  difficult,  it  is  said,  than  to  surprise  an  ex- 
perienced hunter  on  the  prairie,  while  his  old  and 
favorite  steed  is  at  his  side. 

Montero  had  not  long  removed  his  camp  from 
the  vicinity  of  the  Crows,  and  fixed  himself  in  his 
new  quarters,  when  the  Blackfeet  marauders  dis- 
covered his  cantonment,  and  began  to  haunt  the 
vicinity.  He  kept  up  a  vigilant  watch,  however, 
and  foiled  every  attempt  of  the  enemy,  who,  at 
length,  seemed  to  have  given  up  in  despair,  and 
abandoned  the  neighborhood.  The  trappers  re- 
laxed their  vigilance,  therefore,  and  one  night, 
after  a  day  of  severe  labor,  no  guards  were  post- 
ed, and  the  whole  camp  was  soon  asleep.  To- 
ward midnight,  however,  the  lightest  sleepers 
were  roused  by  the  trampling  of  hoofs  ;  and,  giv- 
ing the  alarm,  the  whole  party  were  immediately 
on  their  legs  and  hastened  to  the  pens.  The  bars 
were  down  ;  but  no  enemy  was  to  be  seen  or 
heard,  and  the  horses  being  all  found  hard  by,  it 
was  supposed  the  bars  had  been  left  down  through 
negligence.  All  were  once  more  asleep,  when, 
in  about  an  hour,  there  was  a  second  alarm,  and 
it  was  discovered  that  several  horses  were  miss- 
ing. The  rest  were  mounted,  and  so  spirited  a 
pursuit  took  place,  that  eighteen  of  the  number 
carried  off  were  regained,  and  but  three  remain- 
ed in  possession  of  the  enemy.  Traps  for  wolves, 
had  been  set  about  the  camp  the  preceding  day. 
in  the  morning  it  was  discovered  that  a  Blackfoot 
was  entrapped  by  one  of  them,  but  had  succeeded 
in  dragging  it  off.  His  trail  was  followed  for  a 
long  distance,  which  he  must  have  limped  alone. 
At  length  he  appeared  to  have  fallen  in  with 
some  of  his  comrades,  who  had  relieved  him  from 
his  painful  incumbr"ance. 

These  were  the  leading  incidents  of  Montero's 
campaign  in  the  Crow  country.  The  united  par- 
ties now  celebrated  the  4th  of  July,  in  rough 
hunters'  style,  with  hearty  conviviality  ;  after 
which  Captain  Bonneville  made  his  final  arrange- 
ments. Leaving  Montero  with  a  brigade  of  trap- 
pers to  open  another  campaign,  he  put  himself  at 
the  head  of  the  residue  of  his  men,  and  set  off  on 
his  return  to  civilized  life.  We  shall  not  detail 
his  journey  along  the  course  of  the  Nebraska,  and 
so,  from  point  to  point  of  the  wilderness,  until  he 
and  his  band  reached  the  frontier  settlements  on 
the  22d  of  August. 

Here,  according  to  his  cw;i  account,  his  caval- 
cade might  have  been  taken  for  a  procession  of 
tatterdemalion  savages  ;  for  the  men  were  ragged 


almost  to  nakedness,  and  had  contracted  a  wild- 
ness  of  aspect  during  three  years  of  wandering  in 
the  wilderness.  A  few  hours  in  a  populous  town, 
however,  produced  a  magical  metamorphosis. 
Hats  of  the  most  ample  brim  and  longest  nap  ; 
coats  with  buttons  that  shone  like  mirrors,  and 
pantaloons  of  the  most  ample  plenitude,  took 
place  of  the  well-worn  trapper's  equipments  ;  and 
the  happy  wearers  might  be  seen  strolling  about 
in  all  directions,  scattering  their  silver  like  sailors 
just  from  a  cruise. 

The  worthy  captain,  however,  seems  by  no 
means  to  have  shared  the  excitement  of  his  men, 
on  finding  himself  once  more  in  the  thronged 
resorts  of  civilized  life,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to 
have  looked  back  to  the  wilderness  with  regret. 
"  Though  the  prospect,"  says  he,  "  of  once  more 
tasting  the  blessings  of  peaceful  society,  and  pass- 
ing days  and  nights  under  the  calm  guardianship 
of  the  laws,  was  not  without  its  attractions  ;  yet 
to  those  of  us  whose  whole  lives  had  been  spent 
in  the  stirring  excitement  and  perpetual  watchful- 
ness of  adventures  in  the  wilderness,  the  change 
was  far  from  promising  an  increase  of  that  con- 
tentment and  inward  satisfaction  most  conducive 
to  happiness.  He  who,  like  myself,  has  roved  al- 
most from  boyhood  among  the  children  of  the  for- 
est, and  over  the  unfurrowed  plains  and  rugged 
heights  of  the  western  wastes,  will  not  be  startled 
to  learn,  that  notwithstanding  all  the  fascinations 
of  the  world  on  this  civilized  side  of  the  moun- 
tains, I  would  fain  make  my  bow  to  thp  splendors 
and  gayeties  of  the  metropolis,  and  plunge  again 
amid  the  hardships  and  perils  of  the  wilderness." 

We  have  only  to  add  that  the  affairs  of  the 
captain  have  been  satisfactorily  arranged  with  the 
War  Department,  and  that  he  is  actually  in  ser- 
vice at  Fort  Gibson,  on  our  western  frontier, 
where  we  hope  he  may  meet  with  further  oppor- 
tunities of  indulging  his  peculiar  tastes,  and  of 
collecting  graphic  and  characteristic  details  of  the 
great  western  wilds  and  their  motley  inhabitants. 

We  here  close  our  picturings  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  their  wild  inhabitants,  and  of  the 
wild  life  that  prevails  there  ;  which  we  have  been 
anxious  to  fix  on  record,  because  we  are  aware 
that  this  singular  state  of  things  is  full  of  muta- 
tion, and  must  soon  undergo  great  changes,  if 
not  entirely  pass  away.  The  fur  trade  itself, 
which  has  given  life  to  all  this  portraiture,  is  es- 
sentially evanescent.  Rival  parties  of  trappers 
soon  exhaust  the  streams,  especially  when  com- 
petition renders  them  heedless  and  wasteful  of 
the  beaver.  The  fur-bearing  animals  extinct,  a 
complete  change  will  come  over  the  scene  ;  the 
gay  free  trapper  and  his  steed,  decked  out  in  wild 
array,  and  tinkling  with  bells  and  trinketry  ;  the 
savage  war  chief,  plumed  and  painted  and  ever 
on  the  prowl  ;  the  traders'  cavalcade,  winding 
through  defiles  or  over  naked  plains,  with  the 
stealthy  war  party  lurking  on  its  trail  ;  the  buffalo 
chase,  the  hunting  camp,  the  mad  carouse  in  the 
midst  of  danger,  the  night  attack,  the  stampado, 
the  scamper,  the  fierce  skirmish  among  rocks 
and  cliffs — all  this  romance  of  savage  life,  which 
yet  exists  among  the  mountains,  will  then  exist 
but  in  frontier  story,  and  seem  like  the  fictions  of 
chivalry  or  fairy  tale. 

Some  new  system  of  things,  or  rather  some 
new  modification,  will  succeed  among  the  roving 
people  of  this  vast  wilderness  ;  but  just  as  oppo- 
site, perhaps,  to  the  inhabitants  of  civilization. 
The  great  Chippewyan  chain  ot  mountains,  and 
the  sandy  and  volcanic  plains  which  extend  on 


3  TO 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


either  side,  are  represented  as  incapable  of  culti- 
vation. The  pasturage  which  prevails  there  dur- 
ing a  certain  portion  of  the  year,  soon  withers 
under  the  aridity  ot  the  atmosphere,  and  leaves 
nothing  but  dreary  wastes.  An  immense  belt  of 
rocky  mountains  and  volcanic  plains,  several  hun- 
dred miles  in  width,  must  ever  remain  an  irre- 
claimable wilderness,  intervening  between  the 
abodes  ot  civilization,  and  affording  a  last  refuge 
to  the  Indian.  Here  roving  tribes  of  hunters,  liv- 
ing in  tents  or  lodges,  and  following  the  migra- 
tions ot  the  game,  may  lead  a  life  of  savage  inde- 
pendence, where  there  is  nothing  to  tempt  the  cu- 
pidity of  the  white  man.  The  amalgamation  of 
various  tribes,  and  of  white  men  of  every  nation, 
will  in  time  produce  hybrid  races  like  the  moun- 
tain Tartars  ot  the  Caucasus.  Possessed  as  they 
are  of  immense  droves  of  horses,  should  they  con- 
tinue their  present  predatory  and  warlike  habits, 
they  may  in  time  become  a  scourge  to  the  civi- 
lized frontiers  on  either  side  of  the  mountains,  as 
they  are  at  present  a  terror  to  the  traveller  and 
trader. 

The  facts  disclosed  in  the  present  work  clear- 
ly manifest  the  policy  ot  establishing  military 
posts  and  a  mounted  force  to  protect  our  traders 
in  their  journeys  across  the  great  western  wilds, 
and  of  pushing  the  outposts  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  singular  wilderness  we  have  laid  open,  so  as 
to  maintain  some  degree  of  sway  over  the  coun- 
try, and  to  put  an  end  to  the  kind  of  "black- 
mail," levied  on  all  occasions  by  the  savage 
"  chivalry  of  the  mountains." 


APPENDIX. 

NATHANIEL    J.  WYETH   AND    THE    TRADE 
OF   THE    FAR   WEST. 

WE  have  brought  Captain  Bonnevlle  to  the  end  of 
his  western  campaigning  ;  yet  we  cannot  close  this 
work  without  subjoining  some  particulars  concerning 
the  fortunes  of  his  contemporary,  Mr.  Wyeth  ;  anec- 
dotes of  whose  enterprise  have,  occasionally,  been 
interwoven  in  the  party-colored  web  of  our  narrative. 
Wyeth  effected  his  intention  of  establishing  a  trading 
post  on  the  Portneuf,  which  he  named  Fort  Hall. 
Here,  for  the  first  time,  the  American  flag  was  un- 
furled to  the  breeze  that  sweeps  the  great  naked 
wastes  of  the  central  wilderness.  Leaving  twelve  men 
here,  with  a  stock  of  goods,  to  trade  with  the  neigh- 
boring tribes,  he  prosecuted  his  journey  to  the  Co- 
lumbia ;  where  he  established  another  post,  called 
Fort  Williams,  on  Wappatoo  Island,  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Wallamut.  This  was  to  be  the  head  factory  of  his 
company  ;  whence  they  were  to  carry  on  their  fishing 
and  trapping  operations,  and  their  trade  with  the  in- 
terior ;  and  where  they  were  to  receive  and  dispatch 
their  annual  ship. 

The  plan  of  Mr.  Wyeth  appears  to  have  been  well 
concerted.  He  had  observed  that  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain Fur  Company,  the  bands  of  free  trappers,  as  well 
as  the  Indians  west  of  the  mountains,  depended  for 
their  supplies  upon  goods  brought  from  St.  Louis  ; 
which,  in  consequence  of  the  expenses  and  risks  of  a 
long  land  carriage,  were  furnished  them  at  an  im- 
mense advance  on  first  cost.  He  had  an  idea  that 
they  might  be  much  more  cheaply  supplied  from  the 
Pacific  side.  Horses  would  cost  much  less  on  the 
borders  of  the  Columbia  than  at  St.  Louis  :  the 
transportation,  by  land  was  much  shorter  ;  and  through 
a  country  much  more  safe  from  the  hostility  of  savage 
tribes  ;  which,  on  the  route  from  and  to  St.  Louis, 
annually  cost  the  lives  of  many  men.  On  this  idea 
he  grounded  his  plan.  He  combined  the  salmon 
fishery  with  the  fur  trade.  A  fortified  trading  post 
was  to  be  established  on  the  Columbia,  to  carry  on  a 


trade  with  the  natives  for  salmon  and  peltries,  and  to 
fish  and  trap  on  their  own  account.  Once  a  year,  a 
ship  was  to  come  from  the  United  States  to  bring  out 
goods  for  the  interior  trade,  and  to  take  home  the 
salmon  and  furs  which  had  been  collected.  Part  of 
the  goods,  thus  brought  out,  were  to  be  dispatched  to 
the  mountains,  to  supply  the  trapping  companies  and 
the  Indian  tribes,  in  exchange  for  their  furs  ;  which 
were  to  be  brought  down  to  the  Columbia,  to  be  sent 
home  in  the  next  annual  ship  :  and  thus  an  annual 
round  was  to  be  kept  up.  The  profits  on  the  salmon, 
it  was  expected,  would  cover  all  the  expenses  of  the 
ship  ;  so  that  the  goods  brought  out,  and  the  furs  car- 
ried home  would  cost  nothing  as  to  freight. 

His  enterprise  was  prosecuted  with  a  spirit,  intelli- 
gence, and  perseverance  that  merited  success.  All  the 
details  that  we  have  met  with,  prove  him  to  be  no 
ordinary  man.  He  appears  to  have  the  mind  to  con- 
ceive, and  the  energy  to  execute  extensive  and  strik- 
ing plans.  He  had  once  more  reared  the  American 
flag  in  the  lost  domains  of  Astoria  ;  and  had  he  been 
enabled  to  maintain  the  footing  he  had  so  gallantly 
effected,  he  might  have  regained  for  his  country  the 
opulent  trade  of  the  Columbia,  of  which  our  statesmen 
have  negligently  suffered  us  to  be  dispossessed. 

It  is  needless  to  go  into  a  detail  of  the  variety  of  acci- 
dents and  cross-purposes  which  caused  the  failure  of 
his  scheme.  They  were  such  as  all  undertakings  of 
the  kind,  involving  combined  operations  by  sea  and 
land,  are  liable  to.  What  he  most  wanted  was  sufficient 
capital  to  enable  him  to  endure  incipient  obstacles  and 
losses  ;  and  to  hold  on  until  success  had  time  to 
spring  up  from  the  midst  of  disastrous  experiments. 

It  is  with  extreme  regret  we  learn  that  he  has  re- 
cently been  compelled  to  dispose  of  his  establishment 
at  Wappatoo  Island,  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  ; 
who,  it  is  but  justice  to  say,  have,  according  to  his 
own  account,  treated  him  throughout  the  whole  of  his 
enterprise  with  great  fairness,  friendship,  and  liber- 
ality. That  company,  therefore,  still  maintains  an 
unrivalled  sway  over  the  whole  country  washed  by 
the  Columbia  and  its  tributaries.  It  has,  in  fact,  as 
far  as  its  chartered  powers  permit,  followed  out  the 
splendid  scheme  contemplated  by  Mr.  Astor,  when  he 
founded  his  establishment  at  the  mouth  of  the  Colum- 
bia. From  their  emporium  of  Vancouver,  companies 
are  sent  forth  in  every  direction,  to  supply  the  interior 
posts,  to  trade  with  the  natives  and  to  trap  upon  the 
various  streams.  These  thread  the  rivers,  traverse 
the  plains,  penetrate  to  the  heart  of  the  mountains, 
extend  their  enterprises  northward  to  the  Russian 
possessions,  and  southward  to  the  confines  of  Cali- 
fornia. Their  yearly  supplies  are  received  by  sea,  at 
Vancouver  ;  and  thence  their  furs  and  peltries  are 
shipped  to  London.  They  likewise  maintain  a  con- 
siderable commerce,  in  wheat  and  lumber,  with  the 
Pacific  islands,  and  to  the  north,  with  the  Russian  set- 
tlements. 

Though  the  company,  by  treaty,  have  a  right  to 
participation  only  in  the  trade  of  these  regions,  and 
are  in  fact  but  tenants  on  sufferance,  yet  have  they 
quietly  availed  themselves  of  the  original  oversight 
and  subsequent  supineness  of  the  American  govern- 
ment, to  establish  a  monopoly  of  the  trade  of  the  river 
and  its  dependencies  ;  and  are  adroitly  proceeding  to 
fortify  themselves  in  their  usurpation,  by  securing  all 
the  strong  points  of  the  country. 

Fort  George,  originally  Astoria,  which  was  aban- 
doned on  the  removal  of  the  main  factory  to  Van- 
couver, was  renewed  in  1830  ;  and  is  now  kept  up  as  a 
fortified  post  and  trading  house.  All  the  places  ac- 
cessible to  shipping  have  been  taken  possession  of, 
and  posts  recently  established  at  them  by  the  company. 

The  great  capital  of  this  association  ;  their  long  es- 
tabliihed  system  ;  their  hereditary  influence  over  the 
Indian  tribes  ;  their  internal  organization,  which 
makes  even-thing  go  on  with  the  regularity  of  a 
machine  ;  and  the  low  wages  of  their  people,  who  are 
mostly  Canadians,  give  them  great  advantages  over 
the  American  traders  :  nor  is  it  likely  the  latter  will 
ever  be  able  to  maintain  any  footing  in  the  land,  untiJ 


BONNEVILLE'S   ADVENTURES. 


371 


the  question  of  territorial  right  is  adjusted  between 
the  two  countries.  The  sooner  that  takes  place,  the 
better.  It  is  a  question  too  serious  to  national  pride, 
if  not  to  national  interest,  to  be  slurred  over  ;  and 
every  year  is  adding  to  the  difficulties  which  environ 
it. 

The  fur  trade,  which  is  now  the  main  object  of  en- 
terprise west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  forms  but  a 
part  of  the  real  resources  of  the  country.  Beside  the 
salmon  fishery  of  the  Columbia,  which  is  capable  of 
being  rendered  a  considerable  source  of  profit  ;  the 
great  valleys  of  the  lower  country,  below  the  elevated 
volcanic  plateau,  are  calculated  to  give  sustenance  to 
countless  flocks  and  herds,  and  to  sustain  a  great 
population  of  graziers  and  agriculturists. 

Such,  for  instance  is  the  beautiful  valley  of  the 
Wallamut  ;  from  which  the  establishment  at  Vancouver 
draws  most  of  its  supplies.  Here,  the  company  holds 
mills  and  farms  ;  and  has  provided  for  some  of  its 
superannuated  officers  and  servants.  This  valley, 
above  the  falls,  is  about  fifty  miles  wide,  and  extends 
a  great  distance  to  the  south.  The  climate  is  mild, 
being  sheltered  by  lateral  ranges  of  mountains  ;  while 
the  soil,  for  richness,  has  been  equalled  to  the  best  of 
the  Missouri  lands.  The  valley  of  the  river  Des 
Chutes  is  also  admirably  calculated  for  a  great  graz- 
ing country.  All  the  best  horses  used  by  the  com- 
pany for  the  mountains  are  raised  there.  The  valley 
is  of  such  happy  temperature  that  grass  grows  there 
throughout  the  year,  and  cattle  may  be  left  out  to 
pasture  during  the  winter.  These  valleys  must  form 
the  grand  points  of  commencement  of  the  future  set- 
tlement of  the  countiy  ;  but  there  must  be  many 
such  enfolded  in  the  embraces  of  these  lower  ranges 
of  mountains  which,  though  at  present  they  lie  waste 
and  uninhabited,  and  to  the  eye  of  the  trader  and 
trapper  present  but  barren  wastes,  would,  in  the 
hands  of  skilful  agriculturists  and  husbandmen,  soon 
assume  a  different  aspect,  and  teem  with  waving 
crops  or  be  covered  with  flocks  and  herds. 

The  resources  of  the  country,  too,  while  in  the 
hands  of  a  company  restricted  in  its  trade,  can  be  but 
partially  called  forth,  but  in  the  hands  of  Americans, 
enjoying  a  direct  trade  with  the  East  Indies,  would 
be  brought  into  quickening  activity  ;  and  might  soon 
realize  the  dream  of  Mr.  Astor,  in  giving  rise  to  a 
flourishing  commercial  empire. 


WRECK    OF    A    JAPANESE    JUNK    ON    THE 
NORTHWEST   COAST. 

THE  following  extract  of  a  letter  which  we  received, 
lately,  from  Mr.  Wyeth,  may  be  interesting  as  throw- 
ing some  light  upon  the  question  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  America  has  been  peopled. 

"  Are  you  aware  of  the  fact  that  in  the  winter  of 
1833,  a  Japanese  junk  was  wrecked  on  the  northwest 
coast,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Queen  Charlotte's 
Island  ;  and  that  all  but  two  of  the  crew,  then  much 
reduced  by  starvation  and  disease,  during  a  long  drift 
across  the  Pacific,  were  killed  by  the  natives  ?  The 


two  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany, and  were  sent  to  England.  I  saw  them,  on  my 
arrival  at  Vancouver,  in  1834." 


INSTRUCTIONS  TO  CAPTAIN  BONNEVILLE 
FROM  THE  MAJOR-GENERAL  COMMAND- 
ING THE  ARMY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

HEAD-QUARTERS  OF  THE  ARMY,    ^ 
WASHINGTON,  Augusts,  1831.     ) 

SIR  :  The  leave  of  absence  which  you  have  asked, 
for  the  purpose  of  enabling  you  to  carry  into  execu- 
tion your  design  of  exploring  the  country  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  beyond,  with  a  view  of  ascer- 
taining the  nature  and  character  of  the  several  tribes 
of  Indians  inhabiting  those  regions  ;  the  trade  which 
might  be  profitably  carried  on  with  them  ;  the  quality 
of  the  soil,  the  productions,  the  minerals,  the  natural 
history,  the  climate,  the  geography  and  topography, 
as  well  as  geology,  of  the  various  parts  of  the  coun- 
try within  the  limits  of  the  territories  belonging  to 
the  United  States,  between  our  frontier  and  the 
Pacific — has  been  duly  considered  and  submitted  to 
the  War  Department  for  approval,  and  has  been 
sanctioned.  You  are,  therefore,  authorized  to  be 
absent  from  the  army  until  October,  1833.  It  is 
understood  that  the  government  is  to  be  at  no  ex- 
pense in  reference  to  your  proposed  expedition,  it 
having  originated  with  yourself ;  and  all  that  you  re- 
quired was  the  permission  from  the  proper  authority 
to  undertake  the  enterprise.  You  will,  naturally,  in 
preparing  yourself  for  the  expedition,  provide  suitable 
instruments,  and  especially  the  best  maps  of  the  in- 
terior to  be  found. 

It  is  desirable,  besides  what  is  enumerated  as  the 
object  of  your  entei  prise,  that  you  note  particularly 
the  number  of  warriors  that  may  be  in  each  tribe  or 
nation  that  you  may  meet  with  ;  their  alliances  with 
other  tribes,  and  their  relative  position  as  to  a  state 
of  peace  or  war,  and  whether  their  friendly  or  warlike 
dispositions  toward  each  other  are  recent  or  of  long 
standing.  You  will  gratify  us  by  describing  their 
manner  of  making  war  ;  of  the  mode  of  subsisting 
themselves  during  a  state  of  war.  and  a  state  of 
peace  ;  their  arms,  and  the  effect  of  them  ;  whether 
they  act  on  foot  or  on  horseback  ;  detailing  the  dis- 
cipline and  manoeuvres  of  the  war  parties  ;  the  power 
of  their  horses,  size,  and  general  description  ;  in 
short,  every  information  which  you  may  conceive 
would  be  useful  to  the  government. 

You  will  avail  yourself  of  every  opportunity  of  in- 
forming us  of  your  position  and  progress  and,  at  the 
expiration  of  your  leave  of  absence,  will  join  your 
proper  station. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir, 
Your  ob't  servant, 

ALEXANDER  MACOMB, 
Major-General,  commanding  the  Army, 

Capt.  B.  L.  E.  BONNEVILLE, 

7//4  Reg 't  of  Infantry,  New  York. 


THE     CRAYON     PAPERS. 


BY 


GEOFFREY  CRAYON,  GENT. 


MOUNTJOY; 

OR     SOME    PASSAGES     OUT    OF    THE    LIFE    OF    A 
CASTLE-BUILDER. 

I  WAS  born  among  romantic  scenery,  in  one  of 
the  wildest  parts  ot  the  Hudson,  which  at  that 
time  was  not  so  thickly  settled  as  at  present.  My 
father  was  descended  from  one  of  the  old  Hugue- 
not families,  that  came  over  to  this  country  on 
the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantz.  He  lived  in 
a  style  ot  easy,  rural  independence,  on  a  patri- 
monial estate  that  had  been  for  two  or  three  gen- 
erations in  the  family.  He  was  an  indolent,  good- 
natured  man,  who  took  the  world  as  it  went,  and 
had  a  kind  of  laughing  philosophy,  that  parried 
all  rubs  and  mishaps,  and  served  him  in  the  place 
of  wisdom.  This  was  the  part  of  his  character 
least  to  my  taste  ;  for  I  was  of  an  enthusiastic, 
excitable  temperament,  prone  to  kindle  up  with 
new  schemes  and  projects,  and  he  was  apt  to  dash 
my  sallying  enthusiasm  by  some  unlucky  joke  ; 
so  that  whenever  I  was  in  a  glow  with  any  sudden 
excitement,  I  stood  in  mortal  dread  of  his  good- 
humor. 

Yet  he  indulged  me  in  every  vagary  ;  for  I  was 
an  only  son,  and  of  course  a  personage  of  impor- 
tance in  the  household.  I  had  two  sisters  older 
than  myself,  and  one  younger.  The  former  were 
educated  at  New  York,  under  the  eye  of  a  maiden 
aunt  ;  the  latter  remained  at  home,  and  was  my 
cherished  playmate,  the  companion  of  my 
thoughts.  We  were  two  imaginative  little  beings, 
of  quick  susceptibility,  and  prone  to  see  wonders 
and  mysteries  in  everything  around  us.  Scarce 
had  we  learned  to  read,  when  our  mother  made 
us  holiday  presents  of  all  the  nursery  literature  of 
the  day  ;  which  at  that  time  consisted  of  little 
books  covered  with  gilt  paper,  adorned  with 
"  cuts,"  and  filled  with  tales  ot  fairies,  giants, 
and  enchanters.  What  draughts  of  delightful  fic- 
tion did  we  then  inhale  !  My  sister  Sophy  was  of 
a  soft  and  tender  nature.  She  would  weep  over 
the  woes  of  the  Children  in  the  Wood,  or  quake 
at  the  dark  romance  of  Blue-Beard,  and  the  terri- 
ble mybteries  of  the  blue  chamber.  But  I  was 
all  for  enterprise  and  adventure.  I  burned  to  em- 
ulate the  deeds  of  that  heroic  prince  who  deliv- 
ered the  white  cat  from  her  enchantment  ;  or  he 
of  no  less  royal  blood,  and  doughty  enterprise, 
who  broke  the  charmed  slumber  of  the  Beauty  in 
the  Wood  ! 

The  house  in  which  we  lived  was  just  the  kind 
ot  place  to  foster  such  propensities.  It  was  a  ven- 
erable mansion,  half  villa,  half  farmhouse.  •  The 
oldest  part  was  of  stone,  with  loop-holes  for  mus- 


ketry, having  served  as  a  family  fortress  in  the 
time  of  the  Indians.  To  this  there  had  been  made 
various  additions,  some  of  brick,  some  ot  wood, 
according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment ;  so 
that  it  was  full  of  nooks  and  crooks,  and  cham- 
bers of  all  sorts  and  sizes.  It  was  buried  among 
willows,  elms,  and  cherry  trees,  and  surrounded 
with  roses  and  holly-hocks,  with  honeysuckle  and 
sweet-brier  clambering  about  every  window.  A 
brood  of  hereditary  pigeons  sunned  themselves 
upon  the  roof  ,  hereditary  swallows  and  martins 
built  about  the  eaves  and  chimneys  ;  and  heredi- 
tary bees  hummed  about  the  flower-beds. 

Under  the  influence  of  our  story-books  every 
object  around  us  now  assumed  a  new  character, 
and  a  charmed  interest.  The  wild  flowers  were 
no  longer  the  mere  ornaments  of  the  fields,  or 
the  resorts  of  the  toilful  bee  ;  they  were  the  lurk- 
ing places  ol  fairies.  We  would  watch  the  hum- 
ming-bird, as  it  hovered  around  the  trumpet 
creeper  at  our  porch,  and  the  butterfly  as  it  flitted 
up  into  the  blue  air,  above  the  sunny  tree  tops, 
and  fancy  them  some  of  the  tiny  beings  from  fairy 
land.  I  would  call  to  mind  all  that  I  had  read  of 
Robin  Goodfellow  and  his  power  of  transforma- 
tion. Oh  how  I  envied  him  that  power  !  How  I 
longed  to  be  able  to  compress  my  form  into  utter 
littleness  ;  to  ride  the  bold  dragon-fly  ;  swing  on 
the  tall  bearded  grass  ;  follow  the  ant  into  his 
subterraneous  habitation,  or  dive  into  the  caver- 
nous depths  of  the  honeysuckle  ! 

While  I  was  yet  a  mere  child  I  was  sent  to  a 
daily  school,  about  two  miles  distant.  The 
schoolhouse  was  on  the  edge  of  a  wood,  close  by 
a  brook  overhung  with  birches,  alders,  and  dwarf 
willows.  We  of  the  school  who  lived  at  some  dis- 
tance came  with  our  dinners  put  up  in  little  bas- 
kets. In  the  intervals  of  school  hours  \ve  would 
gather  round  a  spring,  under  a  tuft  of  hazel- 
bushes,  and  have  a  kind  of  picnic  ;  interchang- 
ing the  rustic  dainties  with  which  our  provident 
mothers  had  fitted  us  out.  Then,  when  our  joy- 
ous repast  was  over,  and  my  companions  were 
disposed  for  play,  I  would  draw  forth  one  of  rny 
cherished  story-books,  stretch  myself  on  the  green- 
sward, and  soon  lose  myself  in  its  bewitching 
contents. 

I  became  an  oracle  among  my  schoolmates  on 
account  of  my  superior  erudition,  and  soon  im- 
parted to  them  the  contagion  of  my  infected  fancy. 
Often  in  the  evening,  after  school  hours,  we  would 
sit  on  the  trunk  of  some  fallen  tree  in  the  woods, 
and  vie  with  each  other  in  telling  extravagant 
stories,  until  the  whip-poor-will  began  his  nightly 
moaning,  and  the  fire-flies  sparkled  in  the  gloom. 
Then  came  the  perilous  journey  homeward- 


374 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


What  delight  we  would  take  in  getting  up  wanton 
panics  in  some  dusky  part  of  the  wood  ;  scamp- 
ering like  frightened  deer  ;  pausing  to  take 
breath  ;  renewing  the  panic,  and  scampering  off 
again,  wild  with  fictitious  terror  ! 

Our  greatest  trial  was  to  pass  a  dark,  lonely 
pool,  covered  with  pond-lilies,  peopled  with  bull- 
frogs and  water  snakes,  and  haunted  by  two  white 
cranes.  Oh  !  the  terrors  of  that  pond  !  How 
our  little  hearts  would  beat  as  we  approached  it  ; 
what  fearful  glances  we  would  throw  around  ! 
And  if  by  chance  a  plash  of  a  wild  duck,  or  the 
guttural  twang  of  a  bull-frog,  struck  our  ears,  as 
we  stole  quietly  by — away  we  sped,  nor  paused 
until  completely  out  of  the  woods.  Then,  when 
I  reached  home,  what  a  world  of  adventures  and 
imaginary  terrors  would  I  have  to  relate  to  my 
sister  Sophy  ! 

As  I  advanced  in  years,  this  turn  of  mind  in- 
creased upon  me,  and  became  more  confirmed. 
I  abandoned  myself  to  the  impulses  of  a  romantic 
imagination,  which  controlled  my  studies,  and 
gave  a  bias  to  all  my  habits.  My  father  observed 
me  continually  with  a  book  in  my  hand,  and  sat- 
isfied himself  that  I  was  a  profound  student ;  but 
what  were  my  studies  ?  Works  of  fiction  ;  tales 
of  chivalry  ;  voyages  of  discovery  ;  travels  in  the 
East  ;  everything,  in  short,  that  partook  of  ad- 
venture and  romance.  I  well  remember  with 
what  zest  I  entered  upon  that  part  of  my  studies 
which  treated  of  the  heathen  mythology,  and  par- 
ticularly of  the  sylvan  deities.'  Then  indeed  my 
school  books  became  dear  to  me.  The  neighbor- 
hood was  well  calculated  to  foster  the  reveries  of 
a  mind  like  mine.  It  abounded  with  solitary  re- 
treats, wild  streams,  solemn  forests,  and  silent 
valleys.  I  would  ramble  about  for  a  whole  day 
with  a  volume  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses  in  my 
pocket,  and  work  myself  into  a  kind  of  self-delu- 
sion, so  as  to  identify  the  surrounding  scenes  with 
those  of  which  I  had  just  been  reading.  I  would 
loiter  about  a  brook  that  glided  through  the  shad- 
owy depths  of  the  forest,  picturing  it  to  myself 
the  haunt  of  Naiads.  I  would  steal  round  some 
bushy  copse  that  opened  upon  a  glade,  as  if  I  ex- 
pected to  come  suddenly  upon  Diana  and  her 
nymphs,  or  to  behold  Pan  and  his  satyrs  bound- 
ing, with  whoop  and  halloo,  though  the  woodland." 
I  would  throw  myself,  during  the  panting  heats  of 
a  summer  noon,  under  the  shade  of  some  wide- 
spreading  tree,  and  muse  and  dream  away  the 
hours,  in  a  state  of  mental  intoxication.  I  drank 
in  the  very  light  of  day,  as  nectar,  and  my  soul 
seemed  to  bathe  with  ecstasy  in  the  deep  blue  of 
a  summer  sky. 

In  these  wanderings,  nothing  occurred  to  jar 
my  feelings,  or  bring  me  back  to  the  realities  of 
life.  There  is  a  repose  in  our  mighty  forests  that 
gives  full  scope  to  the  imagination.  Now  and 
then  I  would  hear  the  distant  sound  of  the  wood- 
cutter's axe,  or  the  crash  of  some  tree  which  he 
had  laid  low  ;  but  these  noises,  echoing  along  the 
quiet  landscape,  could  easily  be  wrought  by  fancy 
into  harmony  with  its  illusions  In  general,  how- 
ever, the  woody  recesses  of  the  neighborhood 
were  peculiarly  wild  and  unfrequented.  I  could 
ramble  for  a  whole  day,  without  coming  upon  any 
traces  of  cultivation.  The  partridge  of  the  wood 
scarcely  seemed  to  shun  my  path,  and  the  squir- 
rel, from  his  nut-tree  would  gaze  at  me  for  an 
instant,  with  sparkling  eye,  as  if  wondering  at 
the  unwonted  intrusion. 

I  cannot  help  dwelling  on  this  delicious  period 
of  my  life  ;  when  as  yet  I  had  known  no  sorrow, 
_nor  experienced  any  worldly  qare.  I  have  since 


studied  much,  both  of  books  and  men,  and  of 
course  have  grown  too  wise  to  be  so  easily  pleased  ; 
yet  with  all  my  wisdom,  I  must  confess  I  look 
back  with  a  secret  ieeling  of  regret  to  the  days  of 
happy  ignorance,  before  I  had  begun  to  be  a  phi- 
losopher. 


It  must  be  evident  that  I  was  in  a  hopeful  train- 
ing for  one  who  was  to  descend  into  the  arena 
of  life,  and  wrestle  with  the  world.  The  tutor, 
also,  who  superintended  my  studies  in  the  more 
advanced  stage  of  my  education  was  just  fitted 
to  complete  \.\\efata  morgana  which  was  forming 
in  my  mind.  His  name  was  Glencoe.  He  was  a 
pale,  melancholy-looking  man,  about  forty  years 
of  age  ;  a  native  of  Scotland,  liberally  educated, 
and  who  had  devoted  himself  to  the  instruction 
of  youth  from  taste  rather  ihan  necessity  ;  for, 
as  he  said,  he  loved  the  human  heart,  and  de- 
lighted to  study  it  in  its  earlier  impulses.  My 
two  elder  sisters,  having  returned  home  from  a 
city  boarding-school,  were  likewise  placed  under 
his  care,  to  direct  their  reading  in  history  and 
belles-lettres. 

We  all  soon  became  attached  to  Glencoe.  It  is 
true,  we  were  at  first  somewhat  prepossessed 
against  him.  His  meagre,  pallid  countenance,  his 
broad  pronunciation,  his  inattention  to  the  little 
forms  of  society,  and  an  awkward  and  embarrassed 
manner,  on  first  acquaintance,  were  much  against 
him  ;  but  we  soon  discovered  that  under  this  un- 
promising exterior  existed  the  kindest  urbanity  of 
temper  ;  the  warmest  sympathies  ;  the  most  en- 
thusiastic benevolence.  His  mind  was  ingenious 
and  acute.  His  reading  had  been  various,  but 
more,  abstruse  than  profound  ;  his  memory  was 
stored,  on  all  subjects,  with  facts,  theories,  and 
quotations,  and  crowded  with  crude  materials  for 
thinking.  These,  in  a  moment  of  excitement, 
would  be,  as  it  were,  melted  down,  and  poured 
forth  in  the  lava  of  a  heated  imagination.  At 
such  moments,  the  change  in  the  whole  man  was 
wonderful.  His  meagre  form  would  acquire  a 
dignity  and  grace  ;  his  long,  pale  visage  would 
flash  with  a  hectic  glow  ;  his  eyes  would  beam 
with  intense  speculation  ;  and  there  would  be  pa- 
thetic tones  and  deep  modulations  in  his  voice, 
that  delighted  the  ear,  and  spoke  movingly  to  the 
heart. 

But  what  most  endeared  him  to  us  was  the 
kindness  and  sympathy  with  which  he  entered 
into  all  our  interests  and  wishes.  Instead  of  curb- 
ing and  checking  our  young  imaginations  with 
the  reins  of  sober  reason,  he  was  a  little  too  apt 
to  catch  the  impulse  and  be  hurried  away  with 
us.  He  could  not  withstand  the  excitement  of 
any  sally  of  feeling  or  fancy,  and  was  prone  to 
lend  heightening  tints  to  the  illusive  coloring  of 
youthful  anticipation. 

Under  his  guidance  my  sisters  and  myself  soon 
entered  upon  a  more  extended  range  of  studies  ; 
but  while  they  wandered,  with  delighted  minds, 
through  the  wide  field  of  history  and  belles-lettres, 
a  nobler  walk  was  opened  to  my  superior  intel- 
lect. 

The  mind  of  Glencoe  presented  a  singular  mix- 
ture of  philosophy  and  poetry.  He  was  fond  of 
metaphysics  and  prone  to  indulge  in  abstract 
speculations,  though  his  metaphysics  were  some- 
what fine  spun  and  fanciful,  and  his  speculations 
were  apt  to  partake  of  what  my  father  most  irrev- 
erently termed  "humbug."  For  my  part,  I  de- 
lighted in  them,  and  the  more  especially  because 
they  set  my  father  to  sleep  and  completely  con- 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


375 


founded  my  sisters.  I  entered  with  my  accus- 
tomed eagerness  into  this  new  branch  of  study. 
Metaphysics  were  now  my  passion.  My  sisters 
attempted  to  accompany  me,  but  they  soon  fal- 
tered, and  gave  out  before  they  had  got  half  way 
through  Smith's  Theory  of  the  Moral  Sentiments. 
I,  however,  went  on,  exulting  in  my  strength. 
Glencoe  supplied  me  with  books,  and  I  devoured 
them  with  appetite,  if  not  digestion.  We  walked 
and  talked  together  under  the  trees  before  the 
house,  or  sat  apart,  like  Milton's  angels,  and  held 
high  converse  upon  themes  beyond  the  grasp  of 
ordinary  intellects.  Glencoe  possessed  a  kind  of 
philosophic  chivalry,  in  imitation  of  the  old  peri- 
patetic sages,  and  was  continually  dreaming  of 
romantic  enterprises  in  morals,  and  splendid  sys- 
tems for  the  improvement  of  society.  He  had  a 
fanciful  mode  of  illustrating  abstract  subjects,  pe- 
culiarly to  my  taste  ;  clothing  them  with  the  lan- 
guage of  poetry,  and  throwing  round  them  almost 
the  magic  hues  of  fiction.  "  How  charming," 
thought  I,  "  is  divine  philosophy  ;"  not  harsh  and 
crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 

"  But  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar'd  sweets, 

Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns." 
I  felt  a  wonderful  self-complacency  at  being  on 
such  excellent  terms  with  a  man  whom  I  consid- 
ered on  a  parallel  with  the  sages  of  antiquity,  and 
looked  down  with  a  sentiment  oi  pity  on  the  fee- 
bler intellects  of  my  sisters,  who  could  compre- 
hend nothing  of  metaphysics.  It  is  true,  when  I 
attempted  to  study  them  by  myself,  I  was  apt  to 
get  in  a  fog  ;  but  when  Glencoe  came  to  my  aid, 
everything  was  soon  as  clear  to  me  as  day.  My 
ear  drank  in  the  beauty  of  his  words  ;  my  imagi- 
nation was  dazzled  with  the  splendor  of  his  illus- 
trations. It  caught  up  the  sparkling  sands  of  poe- 
try that  glittered  through  his  speculations,  and 
mistook  them  for  the  golden  ore  of  wisdom. 
Struck  with  the  facility  with  which  I  seemed 
to  imbibe  and  relish  the  most  abstract  doctrines, 
I  conceived  a  still  higher  opinion  of  my  mental 
powers,  and  was  convinced  that  I  also  was  a  phi- 
losopher. 


I  was  now  verging  toward  man's  estate,  and 
though  my  education  had  been  extremely  irregular 
— following  the  caprices  of  my  humor,  which  I  mis- 
took for  the  impulses  of  my  genius — yet  I  was  re- 
garded with  wonder  and  delight  by  my  mother  and 
sisters,  who  considered  me  almost  as  wise  and  in- 
fallible as  I  considered  myself.  This  high  opinion 
of  me  was  strengthened  by  a  declamatory  habit, 
which  made  me  an  oracle  and  orator  at  the  do- 
mestic board.  The  time  was  now  at  hand,  how- 
ever, that  was  to  put  my  philosophy  to  the  test. 

We  had  passed  through  a  long  winter,  and  the 
spring  at  length  opened  upon  us  with  unusual 
sweetness.  The  soft  serenity  of  the  weather  ;  the 
beauty  of  the  surrounding  country  ;  the  joyous 
notes  of  the  birds  ;  the  balmy  breath  of  flower 
and  blossom,  all  combined  to  fill  my  bosom  with 
indistinct  sensations,  and  nameless  wishes.  Amid 
the  soft  seductions  of  the  season,  I  lapsed  into  a 
state  of  utter  indolence,  both  of  body  and  mind. 

Philosophy  had  lost  its  charms  for  me.  Meta- 
physics— faugh  !  I  tried  to  study  ;  took  down 
volume  after  volume,  ran  my  eye  vacantly  over  a 
few  pages,  and  threw  them  by  with  distaste.  I 
loitered  about  the  house,  with  my  hands  in  my 
pockets,  and  an  air  of  complete  vacancy.  Some- 
thing was  necessary  to  make  me  happy  ;  but  what 
was  that  something  ?  I  sauntered  to  the  apart- 
ments of  my  sisters-,  hoping  their  conversation 


might  amuse  me.  They  had  walked  out,  and  the 
room  was  vacant.  On  the  table  lay  a  volume 
which  they  had  been  reading.  It  was  a  novel.  I 
have  never  read  a  novel,  having  conceived  a  con- 
tempt for  works  of  the  kind,  from  hearing  them 
universally  condemned.  It  is  true,  I  had  remark- 
ed that  they  were  as  universally  read  ;  but  I  con- 
sidered them  beneath  the  attention  of  a  philoso- 
pher, and  never  would  venture  to  read  them,  lest 
I  should  lessen  my  mental  superiority  in  the  eyes 
of  my  sisters.  Nay,  I  had  taken  up  a  work  of  the 
kind  now  and  then,  when  I  knew  my  sisters  were 
observing  me,  looked  into  it  for  a  moment,  and 
then  laid  it  down,  with  a  slight  supercilious  smile. 
On  the  present  occasion,  out  of  mere  listlessness, 
I  took  up  the  volume  and  turned  over  a  few  of  the 
first  pages.  I  thought  I  heard  some  one  coming, 
and  laid  it  clown.  I  was  mistaken  ;  no  one  was 
near,  and  what  I  had  read,  tempted  my  curiosity 
to  read  a  little  further.  I  leaned  against  a  win- 
dow-frame, and  in  a  few  minutes  was  completely 
lost  in  the  story.  How  long  I  stood  there  reading 
I  know  not,  but  I  believe  for  nearly  two  hours. 
Suddenly  I  heard  my  sisters  on  the  stairs,  when  I 
thrust  the  book  into  my  bosom,  and  the  two  other 
volumes  which  lay  near  into  my  pockets,  and 
hurried  out  of  the  house  to  my  beloved  woods. 
Here  I  remained  all  day  beneath  the  trees,  be- 
wildered, bewitched,  devouring  the  contents  of 
these  delicious  volumes,  and  only  returned  to  the 
house  when  it  was  too  dark  to  peruse  their  pages. 

This  novel  finished,  I  replaced  it  in  my  sisters' 
apartment,  and  looked  for  others.  Their  stock 
was  ample,  for  they  had  brought  home  all  that 
were  current  in  the  city  ;  but  my  appetite  demand- 
ed an  immense  supply.  All  this  course  of  read- 
ing was  carried  on  clandestinely,  for  I  was  a  lit- 
tle ashamed  of  it,  and  fearful  that  my  wisdom 
might  be  called  in  question  ;  but  this  very  pri- 
vacy gave  it  additional  zest.  It  was  "  bread  eaten 
in  secret  ;"  it  had  the  charm  of  a  private  amour. 

But  think  what  must  have  been  the  effect  of 
such  a  course  of  reading  on  a  youth  of  my  tem- 
perament and  turn  of  mind  ;  indulged,  too,  amid 
romantic  scenery  and  in  the  romantic  season  of 
the  year.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  entered  upon  a 
new  scene  of  existence.  A  train  of  combustible 
feelings  were  lighted  up  in  me,  and  my  soul  was 
all  tenderness  arid  passion.  Never  was  youth 
more  completely  love-sick,  though  as  yet  it  was  a 
mere  general  sentiment,  and  wanted  a  definite 
object.  Unfortunately,  our  neighborhood  was 
particularly  deficient  in  female  society,  and  I 
languished  in  vain  lor  some  divinity  to  whom  I 
might  offer  up  this  most  uneasy  burden  of  affec- 
tions. I  was  at  one  time  seriously  enamored  of 
a  lady  whom  I  saw  occasionally  in  my  rides,  read- 
ing at  the  window  of  a  country-seat  ;  and  actually 
serenaded  her  with  my  flute  ;  when,  to  my  confu- 
sion, I  discovered  that  she  was  old  enough  to  be 
my  mother.  It  was  a  sad  damper  to  my  romance  ; 
especially  as  my  father  heard  of  it,  and  made  it 
the  subject  of  one  of  those  household  jokes  which 
he  was  apt  to  serve  up  at  every  meal-time. 

I  soon  recovered  from  this  check,  however,  but 
it  was  only  to  relapse  into  a  state  of  amorous  ex- 
citement. I  passed  whole  days  in  the  fields,  and 
along  the  brooks  ;  for  there  is  something  in  the 
tender  passion  that  makes  us  alive  to  the  beauties 
of  nature.  A  soft, sunshiny  morning  infused  a  sort 
of  rapture  into  my  breast.  I  flung  open  my  arms, 
like  the  Grecian  youth  in  Ovid,  as  if  I  would  take 
in  and  embrace  the  balmy  atmosphere.*  The 


*  Ovid's  "  Metamorphoses,"   Book  vii. 


376 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


song  of  the  birds  melted  me  to  tenderness.  I 
would  lie  by  the  side  of  some  rivulet  for  hours, 
and  form  garlands  of  the  flowers  on  its  banks, 
and  muse  on  ideal  beauties,  and  sigh  from  the 
crowd  of  undefined  emotions  that  swelled  my 
•  bosom. 

In  this  state  of  amorous  delirium,  I  was  stroll- 
ing one  morning  along  a  beautiful  wild  brook, 
which  I  had  discovered  in  a  glen.  There  was  one 
place  where  a  small  waterfall,  leaping  from  among 
rocks  into  a  natural  basin,  made  a  scene  such  as 
a  poet  might  have  chosen  as  the  haunt  ol  some 
shy  Naiad.  It  was  here  I  usually  retired  to 
banquet  on  my  novels.  In  visiting  the  place  this 
morning  I  traced  distinctly,  on  the  margin  of  the 
basin,  which  was  of  fine  clear  sand,  the  prints  of 
a  female  foot  of  the  most  slender  and  delicate 
proportions,  This  was  sufficient  for  an  imagina- 
tion like  mine.  Robinson  Crusoe  himself,  when 
he  discovered  the  print  of  a  savage  foot  on  the 
beach  of  his  lonely  island,  could  not  have  been 
more  suddenly  assailed  with  thick-coming  fancies. 

I  endeavored  to  track  the  steps,  but  they  only 
passed  for  a  tew  paces  along  the  fine  sand,  and 
then  were  lost  among  the  herbage.  I  remained 
gazing  in  reverie  upon  this  passing  trace  of  love- 
liness. It  evidently  was  not  made  by  any  of  my 
sisters,  for  they  knew  nothing  of  this  haunt  ;  be- 
side, the  foot  was  smaller  than  theirs  ;  it  was  re- 
markable for  its  beautiful  delicacy. 

My  eye  accidentally  caught  two  or  three  half- 
withered  wild  flowers  lying  on  the  ground.  The 
unknown  nymph  had  doubtless  dropped  them 
from  her  bosom  !  Here  was  a  new  document  of 
taste  and  sentiment.  I  treasured  them  up  as  in- 
valuable relics.  The  place,  too,  where  I  found 
them,  was  remarkably  picturesque,  and  the  most 
beautiful  part  of  the  brook.  It  was  overhung 
with  a  fine  elm,  entwined  with  grape-vines.  She 
who  could  select  such  a  spot,  who  could  delight 
in  wild  brooks,  and  wild  flowers,  and  silent  soli- 
tudes, must  have  fancy,  and  feeling,  and  tender- 
ness ;  and  with  all  these  qualities,  she  must  be 
beautiful  ! 

But  who  could  be  this  Unknown,  that  had  thus 
passed  by,  as  in  a  morning  dream,  leaving  merely 
flowers  and  fairy  footsteps  to  tell  of  her  loveli- 
ness ?  There  was  a  mystery  in  it  that  bewildered 
me.  It  was  so  vague  and  disembodied,  like 
those  "  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names" 
in  solitude.  Every  attempt  to  solve  the  mystery 
was  vain.  I  could  hear  of  no  being  in  the  neigh- 
borhood to  whom  this  trace  could  be  ascribed.  I 
haunted  the  spot,  and  became  daily  more  and 
more  enamored.  Never,  surely,  was  passion 
more  pure  and  spiritual,  and  never  lover  in  more 
dubious  situation.  My  case  could  be  compared 
only  to  that  of  the  amorous  prince  in  the  fairy  tale 
of  Cinderella  ;  but  he  had  a  glass  slipper  on  which 
to  lavish  his  tenderness.  I,  alas  !  was  in  love 
with  a  footstep  ! 

The  imagination  is  alternately  a  cheat  and  a 
dupe  ;  nay,  more,  it  is  the  most  subtle  of  cheats, 
for  it  cheats  itself  and  becomes  the  dupe  of  its 
own  delusions.  It  conjures  up  "  airy  nothings," 
gives  to  them  a  "  local  habitation  and  a  name," 
and  then  bows  to  their  control  as  implicitly  as 
though  they  were  realities.  Such  was  now  my 
case.  The  good  Numa  could  not  more  thorough- 
ly hfive  persuaded  himself  that  the  nymph  Egeria 
hovered  about  her  sacred  fountain  and  communed 
with  him  in  spirit,  than  I  had  deceived  myself 
into  a  kind  of  visionary  intercourse  with  the  airy 
phantom  fabricated  in  my  brain.  I  constructed 
a  rustic  seat  at  ahe  foot  of  the  tree  where  I  had 


discovered  the  footsteps.  I  made  a  kind  of 
bower  there,  where  I  used  to  pass  my  mornings 
reading  poetry  and  romances.  I  carved  hearts 
and  darts  on  the  tree,  and  hung  it  with  garlands. 
My  heart  was  full  to  overflowing,  and  wanted 
some  faithful  bosom  into  which  it  might  relieve 
itself.  What  is  a  lover  without  a  confidante  ?  I 
thought  at  once  of  my  sister  Sophy,  my  early  play- 
mate, the  sister  of  my  affections.  She  was  so 
reasonable,  too,  and  of  such  correct  feelings,  al- 
ways listening  to  my  words  as  oracular  sayings, 
and  admiring  my  scraps  of  poetry  as  the  very  in- 
spirations of  the  muse.  From  such  a  devoted, 
such  a  rational  being,  what  secrets  could  I  have  ? 

I  accordingly  took  her  one  morning  to  my  fa- 
vorite retreat.  She  looked  around,  with  delighted 
surprise,  upon  the  rustic  seat,  the  bower,  the  tree 
carved  with  emblems  of  the  tender  passion.  She 
turned  her  eyes  upon  me  to  inquire  the  meaning. 

"  Oh,  Sophy,"  exclaimed  I,  clasping  both  her 
hands  in  mine,  and  looking  earnestly  in  her  face, 
"  I  am  in  love." 

She  started  with  surprise. 

"Sit  down,"  said  I,  "  and  I  will  tell  you  all." 

She  seated  herself  upon  the  rustic  bench,  and  I 
went  into  a  full  history  of  the  footstep,  with  all  the 
associations  of  idea  that  had  been  conjured  up  by 
my  imagination. 

Sophy  was  enchanted  ;  it  was  like  a  fairy  tale  ; 
she  had  read  of  such  mysterious  visitations  in 
books,  and  the  loves  thus  conceived  were  always 
for  beings  of  superior  order,  and  were  always 
happy.  She  caught  the  illusion  in  all  its  force  ; 
her  cheek  glowed  ;  her  eye  brightened. 

"  I  dare  say  she's  pretty,"  said  Sophy. 

"Pretty!"  echoed  I,  "  she  is  beautiful!"  I 
went  through  all  the  reasoning  by  which  I  had 
logically  proved  the  fact  to  my  own  satisfaction. 
I  dwelt  upon  the  evidences  of  her  taste,  her  sensi- 
bility to  the  beauties  of  nature  ;  her  soft  medita- 
tive habit,  that  delighted  in  solitude.  "  Oh,"  said 
I,  clasping  my  hands,  "to  have  such  a  companion 
to  wander  through  these  scenes  ;  to  sit  with  her 
by  this  murmuring  stream  ;  to  wreathe  garlands 
round  her  brows  ;  to  hear  the  music  of  her  voice 
mingling  with  the  whisperings  of  these  groves  ; 
to  — ' 

"  Delightful  !  delightful  !"  cried  Sophy  ; 
"  what  a  sweet  creature  she  must  be  !  She  is 
just  the  friend  I  want.  How  I  shall  dote  upon 
her  !  Oh,  my  dear  brother  !  you  must  not  keep 
her  all  to  yourself.  You  must  let  vie  have  some 
share  of  her  !" 

I  caught  her  to  my  bosom  :  "  You  shall— you 
shall  !"  cried  I,  "  my  dear  Sophy  ;  we  will  all  liv* 
for  each  other  !" 


The  conversation  with  Sophy  heightened  the  il- 
lusions of  my  mind  ;  and  the  manner  in  which 
she  had  treated  my  day-dream  identified  it  with 
facts  and  persons  and  gave  it  still  more  the  stamp 
of  reality.  I  walked  about  as  one  in  a  trance, 
heedless  of  the  world  around  and  lapped  in  an 
elysium  of  the  fancy. 

In  this  mood  I  met  one  morning  with  Glencoe. 
He  accosted  me  \yith  his  usual  smile,  and  wai 
proceeding  with  some  general  observations,  buj 
paused  and  fixed  on  me  an  inquiring  eye. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  said  he,  "you 
seem  agitated  ;  has  anything  in  particular  hap. 
pened  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  I,  hesitating  ;  "  at  least  noth- 
ing worth  communicating  to  you." 

"  Nay,    my    dear   young    friend,"    said     he, 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


377 


"  whatever  is  of  sufficient  importance  to  agitate 
you  is  worthy  of  being  communicated  to  me." 

"  Well  ;  but  my  thoughts  are  running  on  what 
you  would  think  a  frivolous  subject." 

"  No  subject  is  frivolous  that  has  the  power  to 
awaken  strong  feelings." 

"  What  think  you,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "  what 
think  you  of  love  ?" 

Glencoe  almost  started  at  the  question.  "  Do 
you  call  that  a  frivolous  subject?"  replied  he. 
"  Believe  me,  there  is  none  fraught  with  such 
deep,  such  vital  interest.  If  you  talk,  indeed,  of 
the  capricious  inclination  awakened  by  the  mere 
charm  of  perishable  beauty,  I  grant  it  to  be  idle 
in  the  extreme  ;  but  that  love  which  springs  from 
the  concordant  sympathies  of  virtuous  hearts  ; 
that  love  which  is  awakened  by  the  perception  of 
moral  excellence,  and  fed  by  meditation  on  intel- 
lectual as  well  as  personal  beauty  ;  that  is  a  pas- 
sion which  refines  and  ennobles  the  human  heart. 
Oh,  where  is  there  a  sight  more  nearly  approach- 
ing to  the  intercourse  of  angels,  than  that  of  two 
young  beings,  free  from  the  sins  and  follies  of  the 
world,  mingling  pure  thoughts,  and  looks,  and 
feelings,  and  becoming  as  it  were  soul  of  one  soul 
and  heart  of  one  heart  !  How  exquisite  the  si- 
lent converse  that  they  hold  ;  the  soft  devotion  of 
the  eye,  that  needs  no  words  to  make  it  eloquent  ! 
Yes,  my  friend,  if  there  be  anything  in  this  weary 
world  worthy  of  heaven,  it  is  the  pure  bliss  of 
such  a  mutual  affection  !" 

The  words  of  my  worthy  tutor  overcame  all 
farther  reserve.  "  Mr.  Glencoe,"  cried  I,  blush- 
ing still  deeper,  "  I  am  in  love." 

"  And  is  that  what  you  were  ashamed  to  tell 
me  ?  Oh,  never  seek  to  conceal  from  your  friend 
so  important  a  secret.  If  your  passion  be  un- 
worthy, it  is  for  the  steady  hand  of  friendship  to 
pluck  it  forth  ;  if  honorable,  none  but  an  enemy 
would  seek  to  stifle  it.  On  nothing  does  the  char- 
acter and  happiness  so  much  depend  as  on  the 
first  affection  of  the  heart.  Were  you  caught  by 
some  fleeting  and  superficial  charm — a  bright 
eye,  a  blooming  cheek,  a  soft  voice,  or  a  volup- 
tuous form — I  would  warn  you  to  beware  ;  1  would 
tell  you  that  beauty  is  but  a  passing  gleam  of  the 
morning,  a  perishable  flower  ;  that  accident  may 
becloud  and  blight  it,  and  that  at  best  it  must 
soon  pass  away.  But  were  you  in  love  with  such 
a  one  as  I  could  describe  ;  young  in  years,  but 
still  younger  in  feelings  ;  lovely  in  person,  but  as 
a  type  of  the  mind's  beauty  ;  soft  in  voice,  in  to- 
ken of  gentleness  of  spirit  ;  blooming  in  counte- 
nance, like  the  rosy  tints  of  morning  kindling 
with  the  promise  of  a  genial  day  ;  an  eye  beam- 
ing with  the  benignity  of  a  happy  heart  ;  a  cheer- 
ful temper,  alive  to  all  kind  impulses,  and  frank- 
ly diffusing  its  own  felicity  ;  a  self-poised  mind, 
that  needs  not  lean  on  others  for  support ;  an  ele- 
gant taste,  that  can  embellish  solitude,  and  fur- 
nish out  its  own  enjoyments" — • 

"  My  dear  sir,"  cried  I,  for  I  could  contain 
myself  no  longer,  "  you  have  described  the  very 
person  !" 

r<  Why,  then,  my  dear  young  friend,"  said  he, 
affectionately  pressing  my  hand,  "  in  God's 
name,  love  on  !" 

For  the  remainder  of  the  day  I  was  in  some  such 
state  of  dreamy  beatitude  as  a  Turk  is  said  to  enjoy 
when  under  the  influence  of  opium.  It  must  be 
already  manifest  how  prone  I  was  to  bewilder 
myself  with  picturings  of  the  fancy,  so  as  to  con- 
found them  with  existing  realities.  In  the  present 
instance,  Sophy  and  Glencoe  had  contributed  to 


promote  the  transient  delusion.  Sophy,  dear  girl, 
had  as  usual  joined  with  me  in  my  castle-build- 
ing, and  indulged  in  the  same  train  of  imaginings, 
while  Glencoe,  duped  by  my  enthusiasm,  firmly 
believed  that  I  spoke  of  a  being  I  had  seen  and 
known.  By  their  sympathy  with  my  feelings  they 
in  a  manner  became  associated  with  the  Unknown 
in  my  mind,  and  thus  lirtked  her  with  the  circle 
of  my  intimacy. 

In  the  evening,  our  family  party  was  assembled 
in  the  hall,  to  enjoy  the  refreshing  breeze.  Sophy 
was  playing  some  favorite  Scotch  airs  on  the 
piano,  while  Glencoe,  seated  apart,  with  his  fore- 
head resting  on  his  hand,  was  buried  in  one  of 
these  pensive  reveries  that  made  him  so  interest- 
ing to  me. 

"What  a  fortunate  being  I  am!"  thought  I, 
"  blessed  with  such  a  sister  and  such  a  friend  ! 
I  have  only  to  find  out  this  amiable  Unknown,  to 
wed  her,  and  be  happy  !  What  a  paradise  will 
be  my  home,  graced  with  a  partner  of  such  ex- 
quisite refinement  !  It  will  be  a  perfect  fairy 
bower,  buried  among  sweets  and  roses.  Sophy 
shall  live  with  us,  and  be  the  companion  of  all 
our  enjoyments.  Glencoe,  too,  shall  no  more  be 
the  solitary  being  that  he  now  appears.  He  shall 
have  a  home  with  us.  He  shall  have  his  study, 
where,  when  he  pleases,  he  may  shut  himself  up 
from  the  world,  and  bury  himself  in  his  own  re- 
flections. His  retreat  shall  be  sacred  ;  no  one 
shall  intrude  there  ;  no  one  but  myself,  who  will 
visit  him  now  and  then,  in  his  seclusion,  where 
we  will  devise  grand  schemes  together  for  the  im- 
provement of  mankind.  How  delightfully  our 
days  will  pass,  in  a  round  of  rational  pleasures 
and  elegant  employments  !  Sometimes  we  will 
have  music  ;  sometimes  we  will  read  ;  sometimes 
we  will  wander  through  the  flower  garden,  when 
I  will  smile  with  complacency  on  every  flower  my 
wife  has  planted  ;  while  in  the  long  winter  even- 
ings the  ladies  will  sit  at  their  work,  and  listen 
with  hushed  attention  to  Glencoe  and  myself,  as 
we  discuss  the  abstruse  doctrines  of  metaphysics." 

From  this  delectable  reverie,  I  was  startled  by 
my  father's  slapping  me  on  the  shoulder  ;  "  What 
possesses  the  lad  ?"  cried  he  ;  "  here  have  I  been 
speaking  to  you  half  a  dozen  times,  without  re- 
ceiving an  answer." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  replied  I  ;  "  I  was  so  com- 
pletely lost  in  thought,  that  I  did  not  hear  you." 

"  Lost  in  thought  !  And  pray  what  were  you 
thinking  of  ?  Some  of  your  philosophy,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  my  sister  Charlotte, 
with  an  arch  laugh,  "  I  suspect  Harry's  in  love 
again." 

"  And  if  I  were  in  love,  Charlotte,"  said  I, 
somewhat  nettled,  and  recollecting  Glencoe's  en- 
thusiastic eulogy  of  the  passion,  "  if  I  were  in 
love,  is  that  a  matter  of  jest  and  laughter  ?  Is 
the  tenderest  and  most  fervid  affection  that  can 
animate  the  human  breast,  to  be  made  a  matter 
of  cold-hearted  ridicule  ?" 

My  sister  colored.  "  Certainly  not,  brother  ! — • 
nor  did  I  mean  to  make  it  so,  or  to  say  anything, 
that  should  wound  your  feelings.  Had  I  really 
suspected  you  had  formed  some  genuine  attach- 
ment, it  would  have  been  sacred  in  my  eyes  ;  but 
— but,"  said  she,  smiling,  as  if  at  some  whimsical 
recollection,  "  I  thought  that  you — you  might  be 
indulging  in  another  little  freak  of  the  imagina- 
tion*." 

"  I'll  wager  any  money,"  cried  my  father,  "  he 
has  fallen  in  love  again  with  some  old  lady  at  a 
window  !" 


3~S 


THE    CRAYON  PAPERS. 


"  Oh  no  !"  cried  my  clear  sister  Sophy,  with 
the  most  gracious  warmth  ;  "  she  is  young  and 
beautiful." 

"  From  what  I  understand,"  said  Glencoe, 
rousing  himself,  "  she  must  be  lovely  in  mind  as 
in  person." 

I  found  my  friends  were  getting  me  into  a  fine 
scrape.  I  began  to  perspire  at  every  pore,  and 
felt  my  ears  tingle. 

"  Well,  but,"  cried  my  father,  "  who  is  she  ? — 
what  is  she  ?  Let  us  hear  something  about  her." 

This  was  no  time  to  explain  so  delicate  a  mat- 
ter. I  caught  up  my  hat,  and  vanished  out  of 
the  house. 

The  moment  I  was  in  the  open  air,  and  alone, 
my  heart  upbraided  me.  Was  this  respectful 
treatment  to  my  father— to  such  a  father,  too — 
who  had  always  regarded  me  as  the  pride  of  his 
age — the  staff  of  his  hopes  ?  It  is  true,  he  was 
apt  sometimes  to  laugh  at  my  enthusiastic  flights, 
and  did  not  treat  my  philosophy  with  due  re- 
spect ;  but  when  had  he  ever  thwarted  a  wish  of 
my  heart  ?  Was  I  then  to  act  with  reserve  toward 
him,  in  a  matter  which  might  affect  the  whole 
current  of  my  future  life  ?  "I  have  done 
wrong,"  thought  I  ;  "  but  it  is  not  too  late  to 
remedy  it.  I  will  hasten  back  and  open  my 
whole  heart  to  my  father  !" 

I  returned  accordingly,  and  was  just  on  the 
point  of  entering  the  house,  with  my  heart  full  of 
filial  piety,  and  a  contrite  speech  upon  my  lips, 
•vvben  I  heard  a  burst  of  obstreperous  laughter 
iroaa  my  father,  and  a  loud  titter  from  my  two 
cldcer  sisters. 

"  A  footstep  !"  shouted  he,  as  soon  as  he  could 
recover  himself ;  "  in  love  with  a  footstep  !  Why, 
this  beats  the  old  lady  at  the  window  !"  And 
then  there  was  another  appalling  burst  of  laughter. 
Had  it  been  a  clap  of  thunder,  it  could  hardly 
have  astounded  me  more  completely.  Sophy,  in 
the  simplicity  of  her  heart,  had  told  all,  and  had 
set  any  father's  risible  propensities  in  full  action. 

Never  was  poor  mortal  so  thoroughly  crest- 
fallen as  myself.  The  whole  delusion  was  at  an 
end.  I  drew  off  silently  from  the  house,  shrink- 
ing smaller  and  smaller  at  every  fresh  peal  of 
laughter  ;  and  wandering  about  until  the  family- 
had  retired,  stole  quietly  to  my  bed.  Scarce  any 
sleep,  however,  visited  my  eyes  that  night  !  .1  lay 
overwhelmed  with  mortification,  and  meditating 
how  I  might  meet  the  family  in  the  morning.  The 
idea  of  ridicule  was  always  intolerable  to  me  ;  but 
to  endure  it  on  a  subject  by  which  my  feelings  had 
been  so  much  excited,  seemed  worse  than  death. 
I  almost  determined,  at  one  time,  to  get  up,  saddle 
my  horse,  and  ride  off,  I  knew  not  whither. 

At  length  I  came  to  a  resolution.  Before  going 
down  to  breakfast,  I  sent  for  Sophy,  and  employ- 
ed her  as  ambassador  to  treat  formally  in  the 
matter.  I  insisted  that  the  subject  should  be 
buried  in  oblivion  ;  otherwise  I  would  not  show 
my  face  at  table.  It  was  readily  agreed  to  ;  for 
not  one  of  the  family  would  have  given  me  pain 
for  the  world.  They  faithfully  kept  their  prom- 
,ise.  Not  a  word  was  said  of  the  matter  ;  but 
there  were  wry  faces,  and  suppressed  titters,  that 
went  to  my  soul  ;  and  whenever  my  father  looked 
me  in  the  face,  it  was  with  such  a  tragi-comical 
leer — such  an  attempt  to  pull  down  a  serious  brow 
upon  a  whimsical  mouth — that  I  had  a  thousand 
times  rather  he  had  laughed  outright. 


For    a    day    or  two   after  the   mortifying  oc- 
currence just   related,    I  kept   as    much  as  pos- 


sible out  of  the  way  of  the  family,  and  wan- 
dered about  the  fields  and  woods  by  myself.  I 
was  sadly  out  of  tune  ;  my  feelings  were  all 
jarred  and  unstrung.  The  birds  sang  from  every 
grove,  but  I  took  no  pleasure  in  their  melody  ;  and 
the  flowers  of  the  field  bloomed  unheeded  around 
me.  To  be  crossed  in  love,  is  bad  enough  ;  but 
then  one  can  fly  to  poetry  for  relief,  and  turn 
one's  woes  to  account  in  soul-subduing  stanzas. 
But  to  have  one's  whole  passion,  object  and  all, 
annihilated,  dispelled,  proved  to  be  such  stuff  as 
dreams  are  made  of — or,  worse  than  all,  to  be 
turned  into  a  proverb  and  a  jest — what  consola- 
tion is  there  in  such  a  case  ? 

I  avoided  the  fatal  brook  where  I  had  seen  the 
footstep.  My  favorite  resort  was  now  the  banks 
of  the  Hudson,  where  I  sat  upon  the  rocks  and 
mused  upon  the  current  that  dimpled  by,  or  the 
waves  thatlared  the  shore  ;  or  watched  the  bright 
mutations  of  the  clouds,  and  the  shifting  lights 
and  shadows  of  the  distant  mountain.  By  de- 
grees a  returning  serenity  stole  over  my  feelings  ; 
and  a  sigh  now  and  then,  gentle  and  easy,  and 
unattended  by  pain,  showed  that  my  heart  was 
recovering  its  susceptibility. 

As  I  was  sitting  in  this  musing  mood  my  eye 
became  gradually  fixed  upon  an  object  that  was 
borne  along  by  the  tide.  It  proved  to  be  a  little 
pinnace,  beautifully  modelled,  and  gayly  painted 
and  decorated.  It  was  an  unusual  sight  in  this 
neighborhood,  which  was  rather  lonely  ;  indeed, 
it  was  rare  to  see  any  pleasure-barks  in  this  part 
of  the  river.  As  it  drew  nearer,  I  perceived  that 
there  was  no  one  on  board  ;  it  had  apparently 
drifted  from  its  anchorage.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air  ;  the  little  bark  came  floating  along 
on  the  glassy  stream,  wheeling  about  with  the 
eddies.  At  length  it  ran  aground,  almost  at  the 
foot  of  the  rock  on  which  I  was  seated.  I  de- 
scended to  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  drawing 
the  bark  to  shore,  admired  its  light  and  elegant 
proportions  and  the  taste  with  which  it  was  titled 
up.  The  benches  were  covered  with  cushions, 
and  its  long  streamer  was  of  silk.  On  one  of  the 
cushions  lay  a  lady's  glove,  of  delicate  size  and 
shape,  with  beautifully  tapered  fingers.  I  in- 
stantly seized  it  and  thrust  it  in  my  bosom  ;  it 
seemed  a  match  for  the  fairy  footstep  that  had  so 
fascinated  me. 

In  a  moment  all  the  romance  of  my  bosom  was 
again  in  a  glow.  Here  was  one  of  the  very  inci- 
dents of  fairy  tale  ;  a  bark  sent  by  some  invisible 
power,  some  good  genius,  or  benevolent  lairy,  to 
waft  me  to  some  delectable  adventure.  I  recol- 
lected something  of  an  enchanted  bark,  drawn  by 
white  swans,  that  conveyed  a  knight  down  the 
current  of  the  Rhine,  on  some  enterprise  connect- 
ed with  love  and  beauty.  The  glove,  too,  showed 
that  there  was  a  lady  fair  concerned  in  the  present 
adventure.  It  might  be  a  gauntlet  of  defiance, 
to  dare  me  to  the  enterprise. 

In  the  spirit  of  romance  and  the  whim  of  the 
moment,  I  sprang  on  board,  hoisted  the  light  sail, 
and  pushed  from  shore.  As  if  breathed  by  some 
presiding  power,  a  light  breeze  at  that  moment 
sprang  up,  swelled  out  the  sail,  and  dallied  with 
the  silken  streamer.  For  a  time  I  glided  along 
under  steep  umbrageous  banks,  or  across  deep 
sequestered  bays;  and  then  stood  out  over  a  wide 
expansion  of  the  river  toward  a  high  rocky  prom- 
ontory. It  was  a  lovely  evening  ;  the  sun  was  set- 
ting in  a  congregation  of  clouds  that  threw  the 
whole  heavens  in  a  glow,  and  were  reflected  in 
the  river.  I  delighted  myself  with  all  kinds  of 
fantastic  fancies,  as  to  what  enchanted  island, 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


370 


or   mystic  bovver,  or  necromantic   palace,  I  was 
to  be  conveyed  by  the  fairy  bark. 

In  the  revel  of  my  fancy  I  had  not  noticed  that 
the  gorgeous  congregation  of  clouds  which  had  so 
much  delighted  me  was  in  fact  a  gathering  thun- 
der gust.  I  perceived  the  truth  too  late.  The 
clouds  came  hurrying  on,  darkening  as  they  ad- 
vanced. The  whole  face  of  nature  was  suddenly 
changed,  and  assumed  that  baleful  and  livid  tint, 
predictive  of  a  storm.  I  tried  to  gain  the  shore, 
but  before  I  could  reach  it  a  blast  of  wind  struck 
the  water  and  lashed  it  at  once  into  foam.  The 
next  moment  it  overtook  the  boat.  Alas  !  I  was 
nothing  of  a  sailor  ;  and  my  protecting  fairy  for- 
sook me  in  the  moment  of  peril.  I  endeavored  to 
lower  the  sail  ;  but  in  so  doing  I  had  to  quit  the 
helm  ;  the  bark  was  overturned  in  an  instant,  and 
I  was  thrown  into  the  water.  I  endeavored  to 
cling  to  the  wreck,  but  missed  my  hold;  being  a 
poor  swimmer  I  soon  found  myself  sinking,  but 
grasped  a  light  oar  that  was  floating  by  me.  It 
was  not  sufficient  for  my  support ;  I  again  sank 
beneath  the  surface  ;  there  was  a  rushing  and  bub- 
bling sound  in  my  ears,  and  all  sense  forsook  me. 


How  long  I  remained  insensible,  I  know  not. 
I  had  a  confused  notion  of  being  moved  and  tossed 
about,  and  of  hearing  strange  beings  and  strange 
voices  around  me  ;  but  all  was  like  a  hideous 
dream.  When  I  at  length  recovered  full  con- 
sciousness and  perception,  I  found  myself  in  bed 
in  a  spacious  chamber,  furnished  with  more  taste 
than  I  had  been  accustomed  to.  The  bright  rays 
of  a  morning  sun  were  intercepted  by  curtains  of 
a  delicate  rose  color,  that  gave  a  soft,  voluptuous 
tinge  to  every  object.  Not  far  from  my  bed,  on 
a  classic  tripod,  was  a  basket  of  beautiful  exotic 
flowers,  breathing  the  sweetest  fragrance. 

"  Where  am  I  ?     How  came  I  here  ?" 

I  tasked  my  mind  to  catch  at  some  previous 
event,  from  which  I  might  trace  up  the  thread  of 
existence  to  the  present  moment.  By  degrees  I 
called  to  mind  the  fairy  pinnace,  my  daring  em- 
barkation, my  adventurous  voyage,  and  my  disas- 
trous shipwreck.  Beyond  that,  all  was  chaos. 
How  came  I  here  ?  What  unknown  region  had  I 
landed  upon  ?  The  people  that  inhabited  it  must 
be  gentle  and  amiable,  and  of  elegant  tastes,  for 
they  loved  downy  beds,  fragrant  flowers,  and 
rose-colored  curtains. 

While  I  lay  thus  musing,  the  tones  of  a  harp 
reached  my  ear.  Presently  they  were  accom- 
panied by  a  female  voice.  It  came  from  the  room 
below  ;  but  in  the  profound  stillness  of  my  cham- 
ber not  a  modulation  was  lost.  My  sisters  were 
all  considered  good  musicians,  and  sang  very 
tolerably  ;  but  I  had  never  heard  a  voice  like  this. 
There  was  no  attempt  at  difficult  execution,  or 
striking  effect  ;  but  there  were  exquisite  in- 
flexions, and  tender  turns,  which  art  could  not 
reach.  Nothing  but  feeling  and  sentiment  could 
produce  them.  It  was  soul  breathed  forth  in 
sound.  I  was  always  alive  to  the  influence  of 
music  ;  indeed,  I  was  susceptible  of  voluptuous 
influences  of  every  kind — sounds,  colors,  shapes, 
and  fragrant  odors.  I  was  the  very  slave  of  sen- 
sation. 

I  lay  mute  and  breathless,  and  drank  in  every 
note  of  this  syren  strain.  It  thrilled  through  my 
whole  frame,  and  filled  my  soul  with  melody  and 
love.  I  pictured  to  myself,  with  curious  logic,  the 
form  of  the  unseen  musician.  Such  melodious 
sounds  and  exquisite  inflexions  could  only  be  pro- 
duced by  organs  of  the  most  delicate  flexibility. 


Such  organs  do  not  belong  to  coarse,  vulgar 
forms  ;  they  are  the  harmonious  results  of  fair 
proportions,  and  admirable  symmetry.  A  being 
so  organized  must  be  lovely. 

Again  my  busy  imagination  was  at  work.  I 
called  to  mind  the  Arabian  story  of  a  prince, 
borne  away  during  sleep  by  a  good  genius,  to 
the  distant  abode  of  a  princess  of  ravishing 
beauty.  I  do  not  pretend  to  say  that  I  believed 
in  having  experienced  a  similar  transportation  ; 
but  it  was  my  inveterate  habit  to  cheat  myself 
with  fancies  of  the  kind,  and  to  give  the  tinge  of 
illusion  to  surrounding  realities. 

The  witching  sound  had  ceased,  but  its  vibra- 
tions still  played  round  my  heart,  and  filled  it 
with  a  tumult  of  soft  emotions.  At  this  moment, 
a  self-upbraiding  pang  shot  through  my  bosom. 
"  Ah,  recreant!"  a  voice  seemed  to  exclaim,  "  is 
this  the  stability  of  thine  affections  ?  What  ! 
hast  thou  so  soon  forgotten  the  nymph  of  the 
fountain  ?  Has  one  song,  idly  piped  in  thine  ear, 
been  sufficient  to  charm  away  the  cherished  ten- 
derness of  a  whole  summer  ?" 

The  wise  may  smile— but  I  am  in  a  confiding 
mood,  and  must  confess  my  weakness.  I  felt  a 
degree  of  compunction  at  this  sudden  infidelity, 
yet  I  could  not  resist  the  power  of  present  fascina- 
tion. My  peace  of  mind  was  destroyed  by  con- 
flicting claims.  The  nymph  of  the  fountain  came 
over  my  memory,  with  all  the  associations  of 
fairy  footsteps,  shady  groves,  soft  echoes,  and 
wild  streamlets  ;  but  this  new  passion  was  pro- 
duced by  a  strain  of  soul-subduing  melody,  still 
lingering  in  my  ear,  aided  by  a  downy  bed,  fra- 
grant flowers,  and  rose-colored  curtains.  "  Un- 
happy youth  !"  sighed  I  to  myself,  "  distracted 
by  such  rival  passions,  and  the  empire  of  thy 
heart  thus  violently  contested  by  the  sound  of  a 
voice,  and  the  print  of  a  footstep  !" 


I  had  not  remained  long  in  this  mood,  when  I 
heard  the  door  of  the  room  gently  opened.  I 
turned  my  head  to  see  what  inhabitant  ot  this  en- 
chanted palace  should  appear  ;  whether  page  in 
green,  a  hideous  dwarf,  or  haggard  fairy.  It  was 
my  own  man  Scipio.  He  advanced  with  cautious 
step,  and  was  delighted,  as  he  said,  to  find  me  so 
much  myself  again.  My  first  questions  were  as 
to  where  I  was  and  how  I  came  there  ?  Scipio 
told  me  a  long  story  of  his  having  been  fishing  in 
a  canoe  at  the  time  of  my  hair-brained  cruise  ;  of 
his  noticing  the  gathering  squall,  and  my  im- 
pending danger  ;  of  his  hastening  to  join  me,  but 
arriving  just  in  time  to  snatch  me  from  a  watery 
grave  ;  of  the  great  difficulty  in  restoring  me  to 
animation  ;  and  of  my  being  subsequently  con- 
veyed, in  a  state  of  insensibility,  to  this  mansion. 

"  But  where  am  I  ?"  was  the  reiterated  de- 
mand. 

"  In  the  house  of  Mr.  Somerville." 

"  Somerville — Somerville  !"  I  recollected  to 
have  heard  that  a  gentleman  of  that  name  had  re- 
cently taken  up  his  residence  at  some  distance 
from  my  father's  abode,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Hudson.  He  was  commonly  known  by  the 
name  ol  "  French  Somerville,"  from  having 
passed  part  of  his  early  life  in  France,  and  from 
his  exhibiting  traces  of  French  taste  in  his  mode 
of  living,  and  the  arrangements  of  his  house.  In 
fact,  it  was  in  his  pleasure-boat,  which  had  got 
adrift,  that  I  had  made  my  fanciful  and  disastrous 
cruise.  All  this  was  simple,  straightforward  matter 
of  fact,  and  threatened  to  demolish  all  the  cobweb 
romance  I  had  been  spinning,  when  fortunately  I 


380 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


again  heard  the  tinkling  of  a  harp.  I  raised  my- 
self in  bed  and  listened. 

"  Scipio,"  said  I,  with  some  little  hesitation, 
"  I  heard  some  one  singing  just  now.  Who  was 
it  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  was  Miss  Julia." 

"  Julia  i  Julia  !  Delightful  !  what  a  name  ! 
And,  Scipio— is  she — is  she  pretty  ?" 

Scipio  grinned  from  ear  to  ear.  "  Except  Miss 
Sophy,  she  was  the  most  beautiful  young  lady  he 
had  ever  seen." 

I  should  observe,  that  my  sister  Sophia  was 
considered  by  all  the  servants  a  paragon  of  per- 
fection. 

Scipio  now  offered  to  remove  the  basket  of  flow- 
ers ;  he  was  afraid  their  odor  might  be  too  power- 
ful ;  but  Miss  Julia  had  given  them  that  morning 
to  be  placed  in  my  room. 

These  flowers,  then,  had  been  gathered  by  the 
fairy  fingers  of  my  unseen  beauty;  that  sweet 
breath  which  had  filled  my  ear  with  melody  had 
passed  over  them.  I  made  Scipio  hand  them  to 
me,  culled  several  of  the  most  delicate,  and  laid 
them  on  my  bosom. 

Mr.  Somerville  paid  me  a  visit  not  long  after- 
ward. He  was  an  interesting  study  for  me,  for 
he  was  the  father  of  my  unseen  beauty,  and 
probably  resembled  her.  I  scanned  him  closely. 
He  was  a  tall  and  elegant  man,  with  an  open, 
affable  manner,  and  an  erect  and  graceful  car- 
riage. His  eyes  wen;  bluish-gray,  and,  though 
not  dark,  yet  at  times  were  sparkling  and  expres- 
sive. His  hair  was  dressed  and  powdered,  and 
being  lightly  combed  up  from  his  forehead,  added 
to  the  loftiness  of  his  aspect.  He  was  fluent  in 
discourse,  but  his  conversation  had  the  quiet  tone 
of  polished  society,  without  any  of  those  bold 
flights  of  thought,  and  picturings  of  fancy,  which 
I  so  much  admired. 

My  imagination  was  a  little  puzzled,  at  first,  to 
make  out  of  this  assemblage  of  personal  and 
mental  qualities,  a  picture  that  should  harmonize 
•with  my  previous  idea  of  the  fair  unseen.  By 
dint,  however,  of  selecting  what  it  liked,  and  giv- 
ing a  touch  here  and  a  touch  there,  it  soon  fur- 
nished out  a  satisfactory  portrait. 

"  Julia  must  be  tall,"  thought  I,  "  and  of  exqui- 
site grace  and  dignity.  She  is  not  quite  so 
courtly  as  her  father,  for  she  has  been  brought 
up  in  the  retirement  of  the  country.  Neither  is 
she  of  such  vivacious  deportment  ;  for  the  tones 
of  her  voice  are  soft  and  plaintive,  and  she  loves 
pathetic  music.  She  is  rather  pensive -yet  not 
too  pensive  ;  just  what  is  called  interesting.  Her 
eyes  are  like  he4father's,  except  that  they  are' of  a 
purer  blue,  and  more  tender  and  languishing. 
She  has  light  hair — not  exactly  flaxen,  for  I  do  not 
like  flaxen  hair,  but  between  that  and  auburn. 
In  a  word,  she  is  a  tall,  elegant,  imposing,  lan- 
guishing blue-eyed,  romantic-looking  beauty." 
And  having  thus  finished  her  picture,  I  felt  ten 
times  more  in  love  with  her  than  ever. 


I  felt  so  much  recovered  that  I  would  at  once 
have  left  my  room,  but  Mr.  Somerville  objected 
to  it.  He  had  sent  early  word  to  my  family  of 
my  safety  ;  and  my  father  arrived  in  the  course  of 
the  morning.  He  was  shocked  at  learning  the 
risk  I  had  run,  but  rejoiced  to  find  me  so  much 
restored,  and  was  warm  in  his  thanks  to  Mr. 
Somerville  for  his  kindness.  The  other  only  re- 
quired, in  return,  that  I  might  remain  two  or 
three  days  as  his  guest,  to  give  time  for  my  re- 
covery, and  for  our  forming  a  closer  acquaint- 


ance ;  a  request  which  my  father  readily  granted. 
Scipio  accordingly  accompanied  my  father  home, 
and  returned  with  a  supply  of  clothes,  and  with 
affectionate  letters  from  my  mother  and  sisters. 

The  next  morning,  aided  by  Scipio,  I  made  my 
toilet  with  rather  more  care  than  usual,  and  de- 
scended the  stairs  with  some  trepidation,  eager  to 
see  the  original  of  the  portrait  which  had  been  so 
completely  pictured  in  my  imagination. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  I  found  it  deserted. 
Like  the  rest  of  the  house,  it  was  furnished  in  a 
foreign  style.  The  curtains  were  of  French  silk  ; 
there  were  Grecian  couches,  marble  tables,  pier- 
glasses,  and  chandeliers.  What  chiefly  attracted 
my  eye,  were  documents  of  female  taste  that  I 
saw  around  me  ;  a  piano,  with  an  ample  stock  of 
Italian  music  :  a  book  of  poetry  lying  on  the  sofa  ; 
a  vase  of  fresh  flowers  on  a  table,  and  a  portfolio 
open  with  a  skilful  and  half-finished  sketch  of 
them.  In  the  window  was  a  canary  bird,  in  a  gilt 
cage,  and  near  by,  the  harp  that  had  been  in 
Julia's  arms.  Happy  harp  !  But  where  was  the 
being  that  reigned  in  this  little  empire  of  delica- 
cies ? — that  breathed  poetry  and  song,  and  dwelt 
among  birds  and  flowers,  and  rose-colored  cur- 
tains ? 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  hall  door  fly  open,  the 
quick  pattering  of  light  steps,  a  wild,  capricious 
strain  of  music,  and  the  shrill  barking  of  a  dog. 
A  light,  frolic  nymph  of  fifteen  came  tripping  into 
the  room,  playing  on  a  flageolet,  with  a  little 
spaniel  romping  after  her.  Her  gipsy  hat  had 
fallen  back  upon  her  shoulders  ;  a  profusion  of 
glossy  brown  hair  was  blown  in  rich  ringlets 
about  her  face,  which  beamed  through  them  with 
the  brightness  of  smiles  and  dimples. 

At  sight  of  me  she  stopped  short,  in  the  most 
beautiful  confusion,  stammered  out  a  word  or  two 
about  looking  for  her  father,  glided  out  of  the 
door,  and  I  heard  her  bounding  up  the  staircase, 
like  a  frighted  fawn,  with  the  little  dog  barking 
after  her. 

When  Miss  Somerville  returned  to  the  parlor, 
she  was  quite  a  different  being.  She  entered, 
stealing  along  by  her  mother's  side  with  noiseless 
step,  and  sweet  timidity  :  her  hair  was  prettily 
adjusted,  and  a  soft  blush  mantled  on  her  damask 
cheek.  Mr.  Somerville  accompanied  the  ladies, 
and  introduced  me  regularly  to  them.  There 
were  many  kind  inquiries  and  much  sympathy 
expressed,  on  the  subject  of  my  nautical  accident, 
and  some  remarks  upon  the  wild  scenery  of  the 
neighborhood,  with  which  the  ladies  seemed  per- 
fectly acquainted. 

"  You  must  know,"  said  Mr.  Somerville,"  that 
we  are  great  navigators,  and  delight  in  exploring 
every  nook  and  corner  of  the  river.  My  daugh- 
ter, too,  is  a  great  hunter  of  the  picturesque,  and 
transfers  every  rock  and  glen  to  her  portfolio. 
By  the  way,  my  dear,  show  Mr.  Mountjoy  that 
pretty  scene  you  have  lately  sketched."  Julia 
complied,  blushing,  and  drew  from  her  portfolio 
a  colored  sketch.  I  almost  started  at  the  sight. 
It  was  my  favorite  brook.  A  sudden  thought 
darted  across  my  mind.  I  glanced  down  my  eye, 
and  beheld  the  divinest  little  foot  in  the  world. 
Oh,  blissful  conviction  !  The  struggle  of  my 
affections  was  at  an  end.  The  voice  and  the  foot- 
step were  no  longer  at  variance.  Julia  Somerville 
was  the  nymph  of  the  fountain  ! 


What  conversation  passed  during  breakfast  I 
do  not  recollect,  and  hardly  was  conscious  of  at 
the  time,  for  my  thoughts  were  in  complete  con- 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


fusion.  I  wished  to  gaze  on  Miss  Somerville,  but 
did  not  dare.  Once,  indeed,  I  ventured  a  glance. 
She  was  at  that  moment  darting  a  similar  one 
from  under  a  covert  of  ringlets.  Our  eyes  seemed 
shocked  by  the  rencontre,  and  fell  ;  hers  through 
the  natural  modesty  of  her  sex,  mine  through  a 
bashfulness  produced  by  the  previous  workings  of 
my  imagination.  That  glance,  however,  went 
like  a  sun-beam  to  my  heart. 

A  convenient  mirror  favored  my  diffidence,  and 
gave  me  the  reflection  of  Miss  Somerville's  form. 
It  is  true  it  only  presented  the  back  of  her  head, 
but  she  had  the  merit  of  an  ancient  statue  ;  con- 
template her  from  any  point  of  view,  she  was 
beautiful.  And  yet  she  was  totally  different  from 
everything  I  had  before  conceived  of  beauty. 
She  was  not  the  serene,  meditative  maid  that  I 
had  pictured  the  nymph  of  the  fountain  ;  nor  the 
tall,  soft,  languishing,  blue-eyed,  dignified  being 
that  I  had  fancied  the  minstrel  of  the  harp. 
There  was  nothing  of  dignity  about  her  :  she  was 
girlish  in  her  appearance,  and  scarcely  of  the 
middle  size  ;  but  then  there  was  the  tenderness  of 
budding  youth  ;  the  sweetness  of  the  half-blown 
rose,  when  not  a  tint  or  perfume  has  been  with- 
ered or  exhaled  ;  there  were  smiles  and  dimples, 
and  all  the  soft  witcheries  of  ever-varying  ex- 
pression. I  wondered  that  I  could  ever  have  ad- 
mired any  other  style  of  beauty. 

After  breakfast,  Mr.  Somerville  departed  to  at- 
tend to  the  concerns  of  his  estate,  and  gave  me  in 
charge  ot  the  ladies.  Mrs.  Somerville  also  was 
called  away  by  household  cares,  and  I  was  left 
alone  with  Julia  !  Here,  then,  was  the  situation 
which  of  all  others  I  had  most  coveted.  I  was  in 
the  presence  of  the  lovely  being  that  had  so  long 
been  the  desire  of  my  heart.  We  were  alone  ; 
propitious  opportunity  for  a  lover  !  Did  I  seize 
upon  it  ?  Did  I  break  out  in  one  ot  my  accus- 
tomed rhapsodies  ?  No  such  thing  !  Never  was 
being  more  awkwardly  embarrassed. 

"  What  can  be  the  cause  of  this  ?"  thought  I. 
"Surely,  1  cannot  stand  in  awe  of  this  young 
girl.  I  am  of  course  her  superior  in  intellect,  and 
am  never  embarrassed  in  company  with  my  tutor, 
notwithstanding  all  his  wisdom." 

It  was  passing  strange.  I  felt  that  if  she  were 
an  old  woman,  I  should  be  quite  at  my  ease  ;  if 
she  were  even  an  ugly  woman,  I  should  make 
out  very  well  :  it  was  her  beauty  that  overpowered 
me.  How  little  do  lovely  women  know  what 
awful  beings  they  are,  in  the  eyes  of  inexperi- 
enced youth  !  Young  men  brought  up  in  the 
fashionable  circles  of  our  cities  will  smile  at  all 
this.  Accustomed  to  mingle  incessantly  in  female 
society,  and  to  have  the  romance  of  the  heart 
deadened  by  a  thousand  frivolous  flirtations, 
women  are  nothing  but  women  in  their  eyes  ;  but 
to  a  susceptible  youth  like  myself,  brought  up  in 
the  country,  they  are  perfect  divinities. 

Miss  Somerville  was  at  first  a  little  embarrassed 
herself  ;  but,  some  how  or  other,  women  have  a 
natural  adroitness  in  recovering  their  self-posses- 
sion ;  they  are  more  alert  in  their  minds,  and 
graceful  in  their  manners.  Beside,  I  was  but  an 
ordinary  personage  in  Miss  Somerville's  eyes  ; 
she  was  not  under  the  influence  of  such  a  singular 
course  of  imaginings  as  had  surrounded  her,  in 
my  eyes,  with  the  illusions  of  romance.  Perhaps, 
too,  she  saw  the  confusion  in  the  opposite  camp 
and  gained  courage  from  the  discovery.  At  any 
rate  she  was  the  first  to  take  the  field. 

Her  conversation,  however,  was  only  on  com- 
mon-place topics,  and  in  an  easy,  well-bred  style. 
I  endeavored  to  respond  in  the  same  manner  ;  but 


I  was  strangely  incompetent  to  the  task.  My 
ideas  were  frozen  up  ;  even  words  seemed  to  fail 
me.  I  was  excessively  vexed  at  myself,  for  I 
wished  to  be  uncommonly  elegant.  I  tried  two  or 
three  times  to  turn  a  pretty  thought,  or  to  utter  a 
fine  sentiment  ;  but  it  would  come  forth  so  trite, 
so  forced,  so  mawkish,  that  I  was  ashamed  ot  it. 
My  very  voice  sounded  discordantly,  though  I 
sought  to  modulate  it  into  the  softest  tones. 
"  The  truth  is,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "  I  cannot 
bring  my  mind  down  to  the  small  talk  necessary 
for  young  girls  ;  it  is  too  masculine  and  robust 
for  the  mincing  measure  of  parlor  gossip.  I  am  a 
philosopher — and  that  accounts  for  it." 

The  entrance  of  Mrs.  Somerville  at  length 
gave  me  relief.  I  at  once  breathed  freely,  and 
ielt  a  vast  deal  of  confidence  come  over  me. 
"  This  is  strange,"  thought  I,  "  that  the  appear- 
ance of  another  woman  should  revive  my  cour- 
age ;  that  I  should  be  a  better  match  for  two 
women  than  one.  However,  since  it  is  so,  I  will 
take  advantage  of  the  circumstance,  and  let  this 
young  lady  see  that  I  am  not  so  great  a  simpleton 
as  she  probably  thinks  me." 

I  accordingly  took  up  the  book  of  poetry  which 
lay  upon  the  sofa.  It  was  Milton's  "  Paradise 
Lost."  Nothing  could  have  been  more  fortunate  ; 
it  afforded  a  fine  scope  for  my  favorite  vein  of 
grandiloquence.  I  went  largely  into  a  discussion 
of  its  merits,  or  rather  an  enthusiastic  eulogy  of 
them.  My  observations  were  addressed  to  Mrs. 
Somerville,  for  I  found  I  could  talk  to  her  with 
more  ease  than  to  her  daughter.  She  appeared 
alive  to  the  beauties  of  the  poet,  and  disposed  to 
meet  me  in  the  discussion  ;  but  it  was  not  my  ob- 
ject to  hear  her  talk  ;  it  was  to  talk  myself.  I 
anticipated  all  she  had  to  say,  overpowered  her 
with  the  copiousness  of  my  ideas,  and  supported 
and  illustrated  them  by  long  citations  from  the 
author. 

While  thus  holding  forth,  I  cast  a  side  glance 
to  see  how  Miss  Somerville  was  affected.  She 
had  some  embroidery  stretched  on  a  frame  before 
her,  but  had  paused  in  her  labor,  and  was  look- 
ing down  as  if  lost  in  mute  attention.  I  felt  a 
glow  of  self-satisfaction,  but  I  recollected,  at  the 
same  time,  with  a  kind  of  pique,  the  advantage  she 
had  enjoyed  over  me  in  our  tfite-a-t6te.  I  deter- 
mined to  push  my  triumph,  and  accordingly  kept 
on  with  redoubled  ardor,  until  I  had  fairly  ex- 
hausted my  subject,  or  rather  my  thoughts. 

I  had  scarce  come  to  a  full  stop,  when  Miss 
Somerville  raised  her  eyes  from  the  work  on  which 
they  had  been  fixed,  and  turning  to  her  mother, 
observed  :  "  I  have  been  considering,  mamma, 
whether  to  work  these  flowers  plain,  or  in  colors." 

Had  an  ice-bolt  shot  to  my  heart,  it  could  not 
have  chilled  me  more  effectually.  "  What  a  fool," 
thought  I,  "  have  I  been  making  myself — squan- 
dering away  fine  thoughts,  and  fine  language, 
upon  a  light  mind,  and  an  ignorant  ear  !  This 
girl  knows  nothing  of  poetry.  She  has  no  soul,  I 
fear,  for  its  beauties.  Can  anyone  have  real  sen- 
sibility of  heart,  and  not  be  alive  to  poetry  ? 
However,  she  is  young  ;  this  part  of  her  education 
has  been  neglected  :  there  is  time  enough  to 
remedy  it.  I  will  be  her  preceptor.  I  will  kindle 
in  her  mind  the  sacred  flame,  and  lead  her 
through  the  fairy  land  of  song.  But  after  all,  it  is 
rather  unfortunate  that  I  should  have  fallen  in 
love  with  a  woman  who  knows  nothing  of  poetry." 


I  passed  a  day  not  altogether  satisfactory.     I 
was  a  little  disappointed  that  Miss  Somerville  did 


382 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


not  show  more  poetical  feeling.  "  I  am  afraid, 
after  all,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  she  is  light  and  girl- 
ish, and  more  fitted  to  pluck  wild  flowers,  play  on 
the  flageolet,  and  romp  with  little  dogs  than  to 
converse  with  a  man  of  my  turn." 

I  believe,  however,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  more 
out  of  humor  with  myself.  I  thought  I  had  made 
the  worst  first  appearance  that  ever  hero  made, 
either  in  novel  or  fairy  tale.  I  was  out  of  all 
patience,  when  I  called  to  mind  my  awkward  at- 
tempts at  ease  and  elegance,  in  the  tete-a-tete. 
And  then  my  intolerable  long  lecture  about  poetry 
to  catch  the  applause  of  a  heedless  auditor  !  But 
there  I  was  not  to  blame.  I  had  certainly  been 
eloquent  :  it  was  her  fault  that  the  eloquence  was 
wasted.  To  meditate  upon  the  embroidery  of  a 
flower,  when  I  was  expatiating  on  the  beauties  of 
Milton  !  She  might  at  least  have  admired  the 
poetry,  if  she  did  not  relish  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  delivered  :  though  that  was  not  despicable, 
for  I  had  recited  passages  in  my  best  style,  which 
my  mother  and  sisters  had  always  considered 
equal  to  a  play.  "  Oh,  it  is  evident,"  thought  I, 
*'  Miss  Somerville  has  very  little  soul  !" 

Such  were  my  fancies  and  cogitations  during 
the  day,  the  greater  part  of  which  was  spent  in 
my  chamber,  for  I  was  still  languid.  My  evening 
was  passed  in  the  drawing-room,  where  I  over- 
looked Miss  Somerville's  portfolio  of  sketches. 

They  were  executed  with  great  taste,  and 
showed  a  nice  observation  of  the  peculiarities  of 
nature.  They  were  all  her  own,  and  free  from 
those  cunning  tints  and  touches  of  the  drawing- 
master,  by  which  young  ladies'  drawings,  like 
their  heads,  are  dressed  up  for  company.  There 
was  no  garish  and  vulgar  trick  of  colors,  either  ; 
all  was  executed  with  singular  truth  and  sim- 
plicity. 

"And  yet,"  thought  I, "this  little  being,  who 
has  so  pure  an  eye  to  take  in,  as  in  a  limpid 
brook,  all  the  graceful  forms  and  magic  tints  of 
nature,  has  no  soul  for  poetry  !" 

Mr.  Somerville,  toward  the  latter  part  of  the 
evening,  observing  my  eye  to  wander  occasion- 
ally to  the  harp,  interpreted  and  met  my  wishes 
with  his  accustomed  civility. 

"  Julia,  my  dear,"  said  he,  "  Mr.  Mountjoy 
would  like  to  hear  a  little  music  from  your  harp  ; 
let  us  hear,  too,  the  sound  of  your  voice." 

Julia  immediately  complied,  without  any  of  that 
hesitation  and  difficulty,  by  which  young  ladies 
are  apt  to  make  company  pay  dear  for  bad  music. 
She  sang  a  sprightly  strain,  in  a  brilliant  style, 
that  came  trilling  playfully  over  the  ear;  and  the 
bright  eye  and  dimpling  smile  showed  that  her 
little  heart  danced  with  the  song.  Her  pet  canary 
bird,  who  hung  close  by,  was  awakened  by  the 
music,  and  burst  forth  into  an  emulating  strain. 
Julia  smiled  with  a  pretty  air  of  defiance,  and 
played  louder. 

After  some  time,  the  music  changed,  and  ran 
into  a  plaintive  strain,  in  a  minor  key.  Then  it 
was,  that  all  the  former  witchery  of  her  voice 
came  over  me  ;  then  it  was  that  she  seemed  to 
sing  from  the  heart  and  to  the  heart.  Her  fingers 
moved  about  the  chords  as  if  they  scarcely 
touched  them.  Her  whole  manner  and  appear- 
ance changed  ;  her  eyes  beamed  with  the  softest 
expression  ;  her  countenance,  her  frame,  all  seem- 
ed subdued  into  tenderness.  She  rose  from  the 
harp,  leaving  it  still  vibrating  with  sweet  sounds, 
and  moved  toward  her  father,  to  bid  him  good 
night. 

His  eyes  had  been  fixed  on  her  intently,  during 
her  performance.  As  she  came  before  him  he 


parted  her  shining  ringlets  with  both  his  hands, 
and  looked  down  with  the  fondness  of  a  father  on 
her  innocent  face.  The  music  seemed  still  lin- 
gering in  its  lineaments,  and  the  action  of  her 
father  brought  a  moist  gleam  in  her  eye.  He 
kissed  her  fair  forehead,  after  the  French  mode 
of  parental  caressing:  "Good  night,  and  God 
bless  you,"  said  he,  "  my  good  little  girl  !"•' 

Julia  tripped  away,  with  a  tear  in  her  eye,  a 
dimple  in  her  cheek,  and  a  light  heart  in  her 
bosom.  I  thought  it  the  prettiest  picture  of  pater- 
nal and  filial  affection  I  had  ever  seen. 

When  I  retired  to  bed,  a  new  train  of  thoughts 
crowded  into  my  brain.  "  After  all,"  said  I  to 
myself,  "it  is  clear  this  girl  has  a  soul,  though 
she  was  not  moved  by  my  eloquence.  She  has  all 
the  outward  signs  and  evidences  of  poetic  feeling. 
She  paints  well,  and  has  an  eye  for  nature.  She  is  a 
fine  musician,  and  enters  into  the  very  soul  of  song. 
What  a  pity  that  she  knows  nothing  of  poetry  ! 
But  we  will  see  what  is  to  be  done  ?  I  am  irre- 
trievably in  love  with  her  ;  what  then  am  I  to  do  ? 
Come  down  to  the  level  of  her  mind,  or  endeavor 
to  raise  her  to  some  kind  of  intellectual  equality 
with  myself  ?  That  is  the  most  generous  course. 
She  will  look  up  to  me  as  a  benefactor.  I  shall 
become  associated  in  her  mind  with  the  lofty 
thoughts  and  harmonious  graces  of  poetry.  She 
is  apparently  docile  :  beside  the  difference  of  our 
ages  will  give  me  an  ascendancy  over  her.  She 
cannot  be  above  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  I  am 
full  turned  to  twenty."  So,  having  built  this  most 
delectable  of  air  castles,  I  fell  asleep. 


The  next  morning  I  was  quite  a  different  be- 
ing. I  no  longer  felt  fearful  of  stealing  a  glance 
at  Julia  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  contemplated  her 
steadily,  with  the  benignant  eye  of  a  benefactor. 
Shortly  after  breakfast  1  found  myself  alone  with 
her,  as  I  had  on  the  preceding  morning  ;  but  I 
felt  nothing  of  the  awkwardness  of  our  previous 
tete-a-te*te.  I  was  elevated  by  the  consciousness 
of  my  intellectual  superiority,  and  should- almost 
have  felt  a  sentiment  of  pity  for  the  ignorance  of 
the  lovely  little  being,  if  1  had  not  felt  also  the 
assurance  that  I  should  be  able  to  dispel  it. 
"  But  it  is  time,"  thought  I,  "  to  open  school." 

Julia  was  occupied  in  arranging  some  music 
on  her  piano.  I  looked  over  two  or  three  songs  ; 
they  were  Moore's  Irish  melodies. 

"  These  are  pretty  things  !"  said  I.  flirting  the 
leaves  over  lightly,  and  giving  a  slight  shrug,  by 
way  of  qualifying  the  opinion. 

"Oh,  I  love  them  of  all  things,"  said  Julia, 
"  they're  so  touching  !" 

"Then  you  like  them  for  the  poetry,"  said  I, 
with  an  encouraging  smile. 

"  Oh  yes  ;  she  thought  them  charmingly  writ- 
ten." 

Now  was  my  time.  "  Poetry,"  said  I,  assum- 
ing a  didactic  attitude  and  air,  "  poetry  is  one  of 
the  most  pleasing  studies  that  can  occupy  a  youth- 
ful mind.  It  renders  us  susceptible  of  the  gentle 
impulses  of  humanity,  and  cherishes  a  delicate 
perception  of  all  that  is  virtuous  and  elevated  in 
morals,  and  graceful  and  beautiful  in  physics. 
It " 

I  was  going  on  in  a  style  that  would  have 
graced  a  professor  of  rhetoric,  when  I  saw  a  light 
smile  playing  about  Miss  Somerville's  mouth, 
and  that  she  began  to  turn  over  the  leaves  of  a 
music-book.  I  recollected  her  inattention  to  my 
discourse  of  the  preceding  morning.  "  There  is 
no  fixing  her  light  mind,"  thought  I,  "  by  ab« 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


stract  theory  ;  we  will  proceed  practically."  As 
it  happened,  the  identical  volume  of  Milton's  Par- 
adise Lost  was  lying  at  hand. 

"  Let  me  recommend  to  you,  my  young  friend, 
said  I,  in  one  of  those  tones  of  persuasive  admo- 
nition, which  I  had  so  often  loved  in  Glencoe, 
"  let  me  recommend  to  you  this  admirable  poem  ; 
you  will  find  in  it  sources  of  intellectual  enjoy- 
ment far  superior  to  those  songs  which  have  de- 
lighted you."  Julia  looked  at  the  book,  and  then 
at  me,  with  a  whimsically  dubious  air.  "  Mil- 
ton's Paradise  Lost  ?"  said  she  ;  "  oh,  I  know 
the  greater  part  of  that  by  heart." 

I  had  not  expected  to  find  my  pupil  so  far  ad- 
vanced ;  however,  the  Paradise  Lost  is  a  kind  of 
school-book,  and  its  finest  passages  are  given  to 
young  ladies  as  tasks. 

"I  find,"  said  I  to  myself,  "  I  must  not  treat 
her  as  so  complete  a  novice  ;  her  inattention  yes- 
terday could  not  have  proceeded  from  absolute 
ignorance,  but  merely  from  a  want  of  poetic  feel- 
ing. I'll  try  her  again." 

I  now  determined  to  dazzle  her  with  my  own 
erudition,  and  launched  into  a  harangue  that 
would  have  done  honor  to  an  institute.  Pope, 
Spenser,  Chaucer,  and  the  old  dramatic  writers 
were  all  dipped  into,  with  the  excursive  flight  of  a 
swallow.  I  did  not  confine  myself  to  English 
poets,  but  gave  a  glance  at  the  French  and  Italian 
schools  ;  I  passed  over  Ariosto  in  full  wing,  but 
paused  on  Tasso's  Jerusalem  Delivered.  I  dwelt 
on  the  character  of  Clorinda  :  "  There's  a  char- 
acter," said  I,  "  that  you  will  find  well  worthy  a 
woman's  study.  It  shows  to  what  exalted  heights 
of  heroism  the  sex  can  rise,  how  gloriously  they 
may  share  even  in  the  stern  concerns  of  men." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Julia,  gently  taking  ad- 
vantage of  a  pause,  "for  my  part,  I  prefer  the 
character  of  Sophronia. " 

I  was  thunderstruck.  She  then  had  read  Tas- 
so  !  This  girl  that  I  had  been  treating  as  an  ig- 
noramus in  poetry  !  She  proceeded  with  a  slight 
glow  of  the  cheek,  summoned  up  perhaps  by  a 
casual  glow  of  feeling  : 

I  do  not  admire  those  masculine  heroines," 
said  she,  "  who  aim  at  the  bold  qualities  of  the 
opposite  sex.  Now  Sophronia  only  exhibits  the 
real  qualities  of  a  woman,  wrought  up  to  their 
highest  excitement.  She  is  modest,  gentle,  and 
retiring,  as  it  becomes  a  woman  to  be  ;  but  she 
has  all  the  strength  of  affection  proper  to  a 
woman.  She  cannot  fight  for  her  people  as  Clor- 
inda does,  but  she  can  offer  herself  up,  and  die  to 
serve  them.  You  may  admire  Clorinda,  but  you 
surely  would  be  more  apt  to  love  Sophronia  ;  at 
least,"  added  she,  suddenly  appearing  to  recol- 
lect hers*lf,  and  blushing  at  having  launched 
into  such  a  discussion,  "at  least,  that  is  what 
papa  observed  when  we  read  the  poem  together." 

"  Indeed,"  said  I,  dryly,  for  I  felt  disconcerted 
and  nettled  at  being  unexpectedly  lectured  by  my 
pupil  ;  "  indeed,  I  do  not  exactly  recollect  the 
passage. 

"Oh,"  said  Julia,  "I  can  repeat  it  to  you  ;" 
and  she  immediately  gave  it  in  Italian. 

Heavens  and  earth  ! — here  was  a  situation  !  I 
knew  no  more  of  Italian  than  I  did  of  the  lan- 
guage of  Psalmanazar.  What  a  dilemma  for  a 
would-be-wise  man  to  be  placed  in  !  I  saw  Julia 
waited  for  my  opinion. 

"  In  fact,"  said  I,  hesitating,  "  I — I  do  not  ex- 
actly understand  Italian. " 

"  Oh,"  said  Julia,  with  the  utmost  naivete",  "  I 
have  no  doubt  it  is  very  beautiful  in  the  transla- 
tion." 


I  was  glad  to  break  up  school,  and  get  back  to 
my  chamber,  full  of  the  mortification  which  a  wise 
man  in  love  experiences  on  finding  his  mistress 
wiser  than  himself.  "  Translation  !  translation  !" 
muttered  I  to  myself,  as  I  jerked  the  door  shut  be- 
hind me  :  "  I  am  surprised  my  lather  has  never 
had  me  instructed  in  the  modern  languages. 
They  are  all-important.  What  is  the  use  of  Latin 
and  Greek  ?  No  one  speaks  them  ;  but  here,  the 
moment  I  make  my  appearance  in  the  world,  a 
little  girl  slaps  Italian  in  my  face.  However, 
thank  heaven,  a  language  is  easily  learned.  The 
moment  I  return  home,  I'll  set  about  studying 
Italian  ;  and  to  prevent  future  surprise,  I  will 
study  Spanish  and  German  at  the  same  time  ;  and 
if  any  young  lady  attempts  to  quote  Italian  upon 
me  again,  I'll  bury  her  under  a  heap  of  High 
Dutch  poetry  !" 


I  felt  now  like  some  mighty  chieftain,  who  has 
carried  the  war  into  a  weak  country,  with  full 
confidence  of  success,  and  been  repulsed  and 
obliged  to  draw  off  his  forces  from  before  some 
inconsiderable  fortress. 

"  However,"  thought  I,  "  I  have  as  yet  brought 
only  my  light  artillery  into  action  ;  we  shall  see 
what  is  to  be  done  with  my  heavy  ordnance.  Ju- 
lia is  evidently  well  versed  in  poetry  ;  but  it  is 
natural  she  should  be  so  ;  it  is  allied  to  painting 
and  music,  and  is  congenial  to  the  light  graces  of 
the  female  character.  We  will  try  her  on  graver 
themes." 

I  felt  all  my  pride  awakened  ;  it  even  for  a  time 
swelled  higher  than  my  love.  I  was  determined 
completely  to  establish  my  mental  superiority, 
and  subdue  the  intellect  of  this  little  being  ;  it 
would  then  be  time  to  sway  the  sceptre  of  gentle 
empire,  and  win  the  affections  of  her  heart. 

Accordingly,  at  dinner  I  again  took  the  field,  en 
po fence.  I  now  addressed  myself  to  Mr.  Som- 
erville,  for  I  was  about  to  enter  upon  topics  in 
which  a  young  girl  like  her  could  not  be  well 
versed.  I  led,  or  rather  forced,  the  conversation 
into  a  vein  of  historical  erudition,  discussing  sev- 
eral of  the  most  prominent  facts  of  ancient  his- 
tory, and  accompanying  them  with  sound,  indis- 
putable apothegms. 

Mr.  Somerville  luitened  to  me  with  the  air  of 
a  man  receiving  information.  I  was  encour- 
aged, and  went  on  gloriously  from  theme  to  theme 
of  school  declamation.  I  sat  with  Marius  on  the 
ruins  of  Carthage  ;  I  defended  the  bridge  with 
Horatius  Codes  ;  thrust  my  hand  into  the  flame 
with  Martius  Scaevola,  and  plunged  with  Curtius 
into  the  yawning  gulf  ;  I  fought  side  by  side 
with  Leonidas,  at  the  straits  of  Thermopylae  ;  and 
was  going  full  drive  into  the  battle  of  Platasa, 
when  my  memory,  which  is  the  worst  in  the 
world,  failed  me,  just  as  I  wanted  the  name  of 
the  Lacedemonian  commander. 

"Julia,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Somerville,  "  per- 
haps you  may  recollect  the  name  of  which  Mr 
Mcuntjoy  is  in  quest  ?" 

Julia  colored  slightly.  "I  believe,"  said  she, 
in  a  low  voice,  "  I  believe  it  was  Pausanius.'. 

This  unexpected  sally,  instead  of  reinforcing 
me,  threw  my  whole  scheme  of  battle  into  confu- 
sion, and  the  Athenians  remained  unmolested  in 
the  field. 

I  am  half  inclined,  since,  to  think  Mr.  Somer- 
ville meant  this  as  a  sly  hit  at  my  schoolboy 
pedantry  ;  but  he  was  too  well  bred  not  to  seek 
to  relieve  me  from  my  mortification.  "  Oh  !" 
said  he,  "Julia  is  our  family  book  of  reference 


384 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


for  names,  dates,  and  distances,  and  has  an  ex- 
cellent memory  for  history  and  geography." 

I  now  became  desperate  ;  as  a  last  resource  I 
turned  to  metaphysics.  "  If  she  is  a  philosopher 
in  petticoats,"  thought  I,  "  it  is  all  over  with  me." 
Here,  however,  I  had  the  field  to  myself.  I  gave 
chapter  and  verse  of  my  tutor's  lectures,  height- 
ened by  all  his  poetical  illustrations  ;  I  even  went 
further  than  he  had  ever  ventured,  and  plunged 
into  such  depths  of  metaphysics,  that  I  was  in 
danger  of  sticking  in  the  mire  at  the  bottom. 
Fortunately,  I  had  auditors  who  apparently  could 
not  detect  my  flounderings.  Neither  Mr.  Somer- 
ville  nor  his  daughter  offered  the  least  interrup- 
tion. 

When  the  ladies  had  retired,  Mr.  Somerville 
sat  some  time  with  me  ;  and  as  I  was  no  longer 
anxious  to  astonish,  I  permitted  myself  to  listen, 
and  found  that  he  was  really  agreeable.  He  was 
quite  communicative,  and  Irom  his  conversation  I 
was  enabled  to  form  a  juster  idea  of  his  daughter's 
character,  and  the  mode  in  which  she  had  been 
brought  up.  Mr.  Somerville  had  mingled  much 
with  the  world,  and  with  what  is  termed  fashion- 
able society.  He  had  experienced  its  cold  ele- 
gancies and  gay  insincerities  ;  its  dissipation  of 
the  spirits  and  squanderings  of  the  heart.  Like 
many  men  of  the  world,  though  he  had  wandered 
too  far  from  nature  ever  to  return  to  it,  yet  he  had 
the  good  taste  and  good  feeling  to  look  back  fond- 
ly to  its  simple  delights,  and  to  determine  that  his 
child,  if  possible,  should  never  leave  them.  He 
had  superintended  her  education  with  scrupulous 
care,  storing  her  mind  with  the  graces  of  polite 
literature,  and  with  such  knowledge  as  would 
enable  it  to  furnish  its  own  amusement  and  occu- 
pation, and  giving  her  all  the  accomplishments 
that  sweeten  and  enliven  the  circle  of  domestic 
life.  He  had  been  particularly  sedulous  to  ex- 
clude all  fashionable  affectations  ;  all  false  senti- 
ment, false  sensibility,  and  false  romance. 
"Whatever  advantages  she  may  possess,"  said 
he,  "  she  is  quite  unconscious  of  them.  She  is  a 
capricious  little  being,  in  everything  but  her  af- 
fections ;  she  is,  however,  free  from  art  ;  simple, 
ingenuous,  amiable,  and,  I  thank  God  !  happy." 

Such  was  the  eulogy  of  a  fond  father,  delivered 
with  a  tenderness  that  touched  me.  I  could  not 
help  making  a  casual  inquiry,  whether,  among 
the  graces  of  polite  literature,  he  had  included  a 
slight  tincture  of  metaphysics.  He  smiled,  and 
told  me  he  had  not. 

On  the  whole,  when,  as  usual,  that  night,  I 
summed  up  the  day's  observations  on  my  pillow, 
I  was  not  altogether  dissatisfied.  "  Miss  Somer- 
ville," said  I,  "  loves  poetry,  and  I  like  her  the 
better  for  it.  She  has  the  advantage  of  me  in  Ital- 
ian ;  agreed  ;  what  is  it  to  know  a  variety  of  lan- 
guages, but  merely  to  have  a  variety  of  sounds  to 
express  the  same  idea  ?  Original  thought  is  the 
ore  of  the  mind  ;  language  is  but  the  accidental 
stamp  and  coinage  by  which  it  is  put  into  circu- 
lation. If  I  can  furnish  an  original  idea,  what 
care  I  how  many  languages  she  can  translate  it 
into  ?  She  may  be  able  also  to  quote  names  and 
dates,  and  latitudes  better  than  I  ;  but  that  is  a 
mere  effort  of  the  memory.  I  adr/.it  she  is  more 
accurate  in  history  and  geography  than  I  ;  but 
then  she  knows  nothing  of  metaphysics." 

I  had  now  sufficiently  recovered  to  return 
home  ;  yet  I  could  not  think  of  leaving  Mr.  Som- 
erville's  without  having  a  little  further  conversa- 
tion with  him  on  the  subject  of  his  daughter's  ed- 
ucation. 

"  This  Mr.  Somerville,"  thought  I,  "  is  a  very 


accomplished,  elegant  man  ;  he  has  seen  a  good 
deal  of  the  world,  and,  upon  the  whole,  has  prof- 
ited by  what  he  has  seen.  He  is  not  without  in- 
formation, and,  as  far  as  he  thinks,  appears  to 
think  correctly  ;  but  after  all,  he  is  rather  super- 
ficial, and  does  not  think  profoundly.  He  seems 
to  take  no  delight  in  those  metaphysical  abstrac- 
tions that  are  the  proper  aliment  of  masculine 
minds.  I  called  to  mind  various  occasions  in 
which  I  had  indulged  largely  in  metaphysical  dis- 
cussions, but  could  recollect  no  instance  where  I 
had  been  able  to  draw  him  out.  He  had  listened, 
it  is  true,  with  attention,  and  smiled  as  if  in  ac- 
quiescence, but  had  always  appeared  to  avoid  re- 
ply. Beside,  I  had  made  several  sad  blunders  in 
the  glow  of  eloquent  declamation  ;  but  he  had 
never  interrupted  me,  to  notice  and  correct  them, 
as  he  would  have  done  had  he  been  versed  in  the 
theme. 

"Now,  it  is  really  a  great  pity,"  resumed  I, 
"  that  he  should  have  the  entire  management  of 
Miss  Somerville's  education.  What  a  vast  ad- 
vantage it  would  be,  if  she  could  be  put  for  a  lit- 
tle time  under  the  superintendence  of  Glencoe. 
He  would  throw  some  deeper  shades  of  thought 
into  her  mind,  which  at  present  is  all  sunshine  ; 
not  but  that  Mr.  Somerville  has  done  very  well, 
as  far  as  he  has  gone  ;  but  then  he  has  merely 
prepared  the  soil  for  the  strong  plants  of  useful 
knowledge.  She  is  well  versed  in  the  leading 
facts  of  history,  and  the  general  course  of  belles- 
lettres,"  said  I  ;  "  a  little  more  philosophy  would 
do  wonders." 

I  accordingly  took  occasion  to  ask  Mr.  Somer- 
ville for  a  few  moments'  conversation  in  his  study, 
the  morning  I  was  to  depart.  When  we  were 
alone  I  opened  the  matter  fully  to  him.  I  com- 
menced with  the  warmest  eulogium  of  Glencoe's 
powers  of  mind,  and  vast  acquirements,  and  as- 
cribed to  him  all  my  proficiency  in  the  higher 
branches  of  knowledge.  I  begged,  therefore,  to 
recommend  him  as  a  friend  calculated  to  direct 
the  studies  of  Miss  Somerville  ;  to  lead  her  mind, 
by  degrees,  to  the  contemplation  of  abstract  prin- 
ciples, and  to  produce  habits  of  philosophical 
analysis;  "which,"  added  I,  gently  smiling, 
"are  not  often  cultivated  by  young  ladies."  I 
ventured  to  hint,  in  addition,  that  he  would  find 
Mr.  Glencoe  a  most  valuable  and  interesting  ac- 
quaintance for  himself  ;  one  who  would  stimulate 
and  evolve  the  powers  of  his  mind  ;  and  who 
might  open  to  him  tracts  ol  inquiry  and  specula- 
tion, to  which  perhaps  he  had  hitherto  been  a 
stranger. 

Mr.  Somerville  listened  with  grave  attention. 
When  I  had  finished,  he  thanked  me  in  the  politest 
manner  for  the  interest  I  took  in  the  welfare 
his  daughter  and  himself.  He  observed  that, 
it  regarded  himself,  he  was  afraid  he  was  too  old 
to  benefit  by  the  instruction  of  Mr.  Glencoe,  and 
that  as  to  his  daughter,  he  was  afraid  her  mind 
was  but  little  fitted  for  the  study  of  metaphysics. 
"  I  do  not  wish,"  continued  he,  "  to  strain  her 
intellects  with  subjects  they  cannot  grasp,  but  to 
make  her  familiarly  acquainted  with  those  that 
are  within  the  limits  of  her  capacity.  I  do  not 
pretend  to  prescribe  the  boundaries  of  female 
genius,  and  am  far  from  indulging  the  vulgar 
opinion,  that  women  are  unfitted  by  nature  lor 
the  highest  intellectual  pursuits.  I  speak  only 
with  reference  to  my  daughter's  tastes  and  tal- 
ents. She  will  never  make  a  learned  woman  ; 
nor  in  truth,  do  I  desire  it  ;  for  such  is  the  jeal- 
ousy of  our  sex,  as  to  mental  as  well  as  physical 
ascendancy,  that  a  learned  woman  is  not  always 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


385 


the  happiest.  I  do  not  wish  my  daughter  to  ex- 
cite envy,  or  to  battle  with  the  prejudices  of  the 
world  ;  but  to  glide  peaceably  through  life,  on 
the  good  will  and  kind  opinions  of  her  friends. 
She  has  ample  employment  for  her  little  head,  in 
the  course  I  have  marked  out  for  her  ;  and  is  busy 
at  present  with  some  branches  of  natural  history, 
calculated  to  awaken  her  perceptions  to  the  beau- 
ties and  wonders  of  nature,  and  to  the  inexhausti- 
ble volume  of  wisdom  constantly  spread  open  be- 
fore her  eyes.  I  consider  that  woman  most  likely 
to  make  an  agreeable  companion,  who  can  draw 
topics  of  pleasing  remark  from  every  natural  ob- 
ject ;  and  most  likely  to  be  cheerful  and  content- 
ed, who  is  continually  sensible  of  the  order,  the 
harmony,  and  the  invariable  beneficence,  that 
reign  throughout  the  beautiful  world  we  in- 
habit." 

"  But,"  added,  he,  smiling,  "  I  am  betraying 
myself  into  a  lecture,  instead  of  merely  giving  a 
reply  to  your  kind  offer.  Permit  me  to  take  the 
liberty,  in  return,  of  inquiring  a  little  about  your 
own  pursuits.  You  speak  of  having  finished  your 
education  ;  but  of  course  you  have  a  line  of  pri- 
vate study  and  mental  occupation  marked  out  ; 
for  you  must  know  the  importance,  both  in  point 
of  interest  and  happiness,  of  keeping  the  mind  em- 
ployed. May  I  ask  what  system  you  observe  in 
your  intellectual  exercises  ?" 

"  Oh,  as  to  system,"  I  observed,  "  I  could 
never  bring  myself  into  anything  of  the  kind.  I 
thought  it  best  to  let  my  genius  take  its  own 
course,  as  it  always  acted  the  most  vigorously 
when  stimulated  by  inclination." 

Mr.  Somerville  shook  his  head.  "  This  same 
genius,"  said  he,  "  is  a  wild  quality,  that  runs 
away  with  our  most  promising  young  men.  It 
has  become  so  much  the  fashion,  too,  to  give  it 
the  reins,  that  it  is  now  thought  an  animal  of 
too  noble  and  generous  a  nature  to  be  brought  to 
harness.  But  it  is  all  a  mistake.  Nature  never 
designed  these  high  endowments  to  run  riot 
through  society,  and  throw  the  whole  system  into 
confusion.  No,  my  dear  sir,  genius,  unless  it 
acts  upon  system,  is  very  apt  to  be  a  useless  qual- 
ity to  society  ;  sometimes  an  injurious,  and  cer- 
tainly a  very  uncomfortable  one,  to  its  possessor. 
I  have  had  many  opportunities  of  seeing  the  prog- 
ress through  life  of  young  men  who  were  account- 
ed geniuses, and  have  found  it  too  often  end  in  early 
exhaustion  and  bitter  disappointment ;  and  have  as 
often  noticed  that  these  effects  might  be  traced  to  a 
total  want  of  system.  There  were  no  habits  of  busi- 
ness, of  steady  purpose,  and  regular  application, 
superinduced  upon  the  mind  ;  everything  was  left 
to  chance  and  impulse,  and  native  luxuriance,  and 
everything  of  course  ran  to  waste  and  wild  en- 
tanglement. Excuse  me  if  I  am  tedious  on  this 
point,  lor  I  feel  solicitous  to  impress  it  upon  you, 
being  an  error  extremely  prevalent  in  our  country 
and  one  into  which  too  many  of  our  youth  have 
fallen.  I  am  happy,  however,  to  observe  the  zeal 
which  still  appears  to  actuate  you  for  the  acquisi- 
tion of  knowledge,  and  augur  every  good  from 
the  elevated  bent  of  your  ambition.  May  I  ask 
what  has  been  your  course  of  study  tor  the  last 
six  months  ?" 

Never  was  question  more  unluckily  timed.  For 
the  last  six  months  I  had  been  absolutely  buried 
in  novels  and  romances. 

Mr.  Sorr.erville  perceived  that  the  question  was 
embarrassing,  and  with  his  in  variable  good  breed- 
ing, immediately  resumed  the  conversation,  with- 
out waiting  for  a  reply.  He  took  care,  however, 
to  turn  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  draw  from  me  an 


account  of  the  whole  manner  in  which  I  had  been 
educated,  and  the  various  currents  of  reading  into 
which  my  mind  had  run.  He  then  went  on  to 
discuss,  briefly  but  impressively,  the  different 
branches  of  knowledge  most  important  to  a  young 
man  in  my  situation  ;  and  to  my  surprise  I  found 
him  a  complete  master  of  those  studies  on  which 
I  had  supposed  him  ignorant,  and  on  which  I  had 
been  descanting  so  confidently. 

He  complimented  me,  however,  very  gracious- 
ly, upon  trie  progress  I  had  made,  but  advised 
me  for  the  present  to  turn  my  attention  to  the 
physical  rather  than  the  moral  sciences.  "  These 
studies,"  said  he,  "  store  a  man's  mind  with  val- 
uable facts,  and  at  the  same  time  repress  self- 
confidence,  by  letting  him  know  how  boundless 
are  the  realms  of  knowledge,  and  how  little  we 
can  possibly  know.  Whereas  metaphysical  stud- 
ies, though  of  an  ingenious  order  of  intellectual 
employment,  are  apt  to  bewilder  some  minds 
with  vague  speculations.  They  never  know  how 
far  they  have  advanced,  or  what  may  be  the  cor- 
rectness of  their  favorite  theory.  They  render 
many  of  our  young  men  verbose  and  declamatory, 
and  prone  to  mistake  the  aberrations  of  their  fancy 
for  the  inspirations  of  divine  philosophy." 

I  could  not  but  interrupt  him,  to  assent  to  the 
truth  of  these  remarks,  and  to  say  that  it  had 
been  my  lot,  in  the  course  of  my  limited  experi- 
ence, to  encounter  young  men  of  the  kind,  who 
had  overwhelmed  me  by  their  verbosity. 

Mr.  Somerville  smiled.  "  I  trust,"  said  he, 
kindly,  "  that  you  will  guard  against  these  errors. 
Avoid  the  eagerness  with  which  a  young  man  is 
apt  to  hurry  into  conversation,  and  to  utter  the 
crude  and  ill-digested  notions  which  he  has  pick- 
ed up  in  his  recent  studies.  Be  assured  that  ex- 
tensive and  accurate  knowledge  is  the  slow  acqui- 
sition of  a  studious  lifetime  ;  that  a  young  man, 
however  pregnant  his  wit,  and  prompt  his  talent, 
can  have  mastered  but  the  rudiments  of  learning, 
and,  in  a  manner,  attained  the  implements  of 
study.  Whatever  may  have  been  your  past  assi- 
duity, you  must  be  sensible  that  as  yet  you  have 
but  reached  the  threshold  of  true  knowledge  ;  but 
at  the  same  time,  you  have  the  advantage  that 
you  are  still  very  young,  and  have  ample  time  to 
learn." 

Here  our  conference  ended.  I  walked  out  of 
the  study,  a  very  different  being  from  what  I  was 
on  entering  it.  I  had  gone  in  with  the  air  of  a 
professor  about  to  deliver  a  lecture  ;  I  came  out 
like  a  student  who  had  failed  in  his  examination, 
and  been  degraded  in  his  class. 

"  Very  young,"  and  "  on  the  threshold  of 
knowledge  !"  This  was  extremely  flattering,  to 
one  who  had  considered  himself  an  accomplished 
scholar,  and  profound  philosopher. 

"It  is  singular,"  thought  I  ;  "  there  seems  to 
have  been  a  spell  upon  my  faculties,  ever  since  I 
have  been  in  this  house.  I  certainly  have  not 
been  able  to  do  myself  justice.  Whenever  I  have 
undertaken  to  advise,  I  have  had  the  tables  turned 
upon  me.  It  must  be  that  I  am  strange  and  diffi- 
dent among  people  I  am  not  accustomed  to.  I 
wish  they  could  hear  me  talk  at  home  !" 

"  After  all,"  added  I,  on  further  reflection, 
"  after  all  there  is  a  great  deal  of  force  in  what 
Mr.  Somerville  has  said.  Somehow  or  other, 
these  men  of  the  world  do  now  and  then  hit  upon 
remarks  that  would  do  credit  to  a  philosopher. 
Some  of  his  general  observations  came  so  home, 
that  I  almost  thought  they  were  meant  for  myself. 
His  advice  about  adopting  a  system  of  study  is 
very  judicious.  I  will  immediately  put  it  ia 


386 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


practice.     My  mind  shall  operate  henceforward 
with  the  regularity  of  clock-work." 

How  far  I  succeeded  in  adopting  this  plan,  how 
I  fared  in  the  further  pursuit  of  knowledge,  and 
how  I  succeeded  in  my  suit  to  Julia  Somerville, 
may  afford  matter  lor  a  further  communication  to 
the  public,  if  this  simple  record  of  my  early  life  is 
fortunate  enough  to  excite  any  curiosity. 


THE  GREAT  MISSISSIPPI  BUBBLE, 

"A    TIME    OF    UNEXAMPLED     PROSPERITY." 

IN  the  course  of  a  voyage  from  England,  I  once 
fell  in  with  a  convoy  of  merchant  ships,  bound 
for  the  West  Indies.  The  weather  was  uncom- 
monly bland  ;  and  the  ships  vied  with  each  other 
in  spreading  sail  to  catch  a  light,  favoring  breeze, 
until  their  hulls  were  almost  hidden  beneath  a 
cloud  of  canvas.  The  breeze  went  down  with 
the  sun,  and  his  last  yellow  rays  shone  upon  a 
thousand  sails,  idly  flapping  against  the  masts. 

I  exulted  in  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  and  au- 
gured a  prosperous  voyage  ;  but  the  veteran  mas- 
ter of  the  ship  shook  his  head,  and  pronounced 
this  halcyon  calm  a  "  weather-breeder."  And 
so  it  proved.  A  storm  burst  forth  in  the  night  ; 
the  sea  roared  and  raged  ;  and  "when  the  day 
broke,  I  beheld  the  late  gallant  convoy  scattered 
in  every  direction  ;  some  dismasted,  others  scud- 
ding under  bare  poles,  and  many  firing  signals  of 
distress. 

I  have  since  been  occasionally  reminded  of  this 
scene,  by  those  calm,  sunny  seasons  in  the  com- 
mercial world,  which  are  known  by  the  name  of 
"times  of  unexampled  prosperity."  They  are 
the  sure  weather-breeders  of  traffic.  Every  now 
and  then  the  world  is  visited  by  one  of  these  de- 
lusive seasons,  when  "the  credit  system,"  as  it 
is  called,  expands  to  full  luxuriance,  everybody 
trusts  everybody  ;  a  bad  debt  is  a  thing  unheard 
of  ;  the  broad  way  to  certain  and  sudden  wealth 
lies  plain  and  open  ;  and  men  are  tempted  to 
dash  forward  boldly,  from  the  facility  of  borrow- 
ing. 

Promissory  notes,  interchanged  between  schem- 
ing individuals,  are  liberally  discounted  at  the 
banks,  which  become  so  many  mints  to  coin 
•words  into  cash  ;  and  as  the  supply  of  words  is 
inexhaustible,  it  may  readily  be  supposed  what  a 
vast  amount  of  promissory  capital  is  soon  in  cir- 
culation. Every  one  now  talks  in  thousands  ; 
nothing  is  heard  but  gigantic  operations  in  trade  ; 
great  purchases  and  sales  of  real  property,  and 
immense  sums  made  at  every  transfer.  All,  to  be 
sure,  as  yet  exists  in  promise  ;  but  the  believer  in 
promises  calculates  the  aggregate  as  solid  capi- 
tal, and  falls  back  in  amazement  at  the  amount 
of  public  wealth,  the  "  unexampled  state  of  pub- 
lic prosperity." 

Now  is  the  time  for  speculative  and  dreaming 
or  designing  men.  They  relate  their  dreams  and 
projects  to  the  ignorant  and  credulous,  dazzle 
them  with  golden  visions,  and  set  them  madding 
after  shadows.  The  example  of  one  stimulates 
another  ;  speculation  rises  on  speculation  ;  bub- 
ble rises  on  bubble  ;  every  one  helps  with  his 
breath  to  swell  the  windy  superstructure,  and  ad- 
mires and  wonders  at  the  magnitude  of  the  infla- 
tion he  has  contributed  to  produce. 

Speculation  is  the  romance  of  trade,  and  casts 
contempt  upon  all  its  sober  realities.  It  renders 


the  stock-jobber  a  magician,  and  the  exchange  a 
region  of  enchantment.  It  elevates  the  merchant 
into  a  kind  of  knight  errant,  or  rather  a  commer- 
cial Quixote.  The  slow  but  sure  gains  of  snug 
percentage  become  despicable  in  his  eyes  ;  no 
"  operation"  is  thought  worthy  of  attention,  that 
does  not  double  or  treble  the  investment.  No 
business  is  worth  following,  that  does  not  promise 
an  immediate  fortune.  As  he  sits  musing  over 
his  ledger,  with  pen  behind  his  ear,  he  is  like  La 
Mancha's  hero  in  his  study,  dreaming  over  his 
books  of  chivalry.  His  dusty  counting-house 
fades  before  his  eyes,  or  changes  into  a  Spanish 
mine  ;  he  gropes  after  diamonds,  or  dives  alter 
pearls.  The  subterranean  garden  of  Aladdin  is 
nothing  to  the  realms  of  wealth  that  break  upon 
his  imagination. 

Could  this  delusion  always  last,  the  life  of  a 
merchant  would  indeed  be  a  golcleu  dream  ;  but 
it  is  as  short  as  it  is  brilliant.  Let  but  a  doubt 
enter,  and  the  "  season  of  unexampled  prosperity" 
is  at  end.  The  coinage  of  words  is  suddenly  cur- 
tailed ;  the  promissory  capital  begins  to  vanish 
into  smoke  ;  a  panic  succeeds,  and  the  whole  su- 
perstructure, built  upon  credit,  and  reared  by 
speculation,  crumbles  to  the  ground,  leaving 
scarce  a  wreck  behind  : 

"  It  is  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of." 

When  a  man  of  business,  therefore,  hears  on' 
every  side  rumors  of  fortunes  suddenly  acquired  ; 
when  he  finds  banks  liberal,  and  brokers  busy  ; 
when  he  sees  adventurers  flush  of  paper  capital, 
and  full  of  scheme  and  enterprise  ;  when  he  per- 
ceives a  greater  disposition  to  buy  than  to  sell  ; 
when  trade  overflows  its  accustomed  channels 
and  deluges  the  country  ;  when  he  hears  of  new 
regions  of  commercial  adventure  ;  of  distant 
marts  and  distant  mines,  swallowing  merchandise 
and  disgorging  gold  ;  when  he  finds  joint  stock 
companies  of  all  kinds  forming  ;  railroads,  ca- 
nals, and  locomotive  engines,  springing  up  on 
every  side  ;  when  idlers  suddenly  become  men  of 
business,  and  dash  into  the  game  of  commerce 
as  they  would  into  the  hazards  of  the  faro  table  ; 
when  he  beholds  the  streets  glittering  with  new 
equipages,  palaces  conjured  up  by  the  magic  of 
speculation  ;  tradesmen  flushed  with  sudden  suc- 
cess, and  vying  with  each  other  in  ostentatious  ex- 
pense ;  in  a  word,  when  he  hears  the  whole  com- 
munity  joining  in  the  theme  of  "  unexampled 
prosperity,"  let  him  look  upon  the  whole  as  a 
"  weather-breeder,"  and  prepare  for  the  impend- 
ing storm. 

The  foregoing  remarks  are  intended  merely  as 
a  prelude  to  a  narrative  I  am  about  to  lay  before 
the  public,  of  one  of  the  most  memorable  in- 
stances of  the  infatuation  of  gain,  to  be  found  in 
the  whole  history  of  commerce.  I  allude  to  the 
famous  Mississippi  bubble.  It  is  a  matter  that 
has  passed  into  a  proverb,  and  become  a  phrase 
in  every  one's  mouth,  yet  of  which  not  one  mer- 
chant in  ten  has  probably  a  distinct  idea.  I  have 
therefore  thought  that  an  authentic  account  of 
it  would  be  interesting  and  salutary,  at  the  pres- 
ent moment,  when  we  are  suffering  under  the 
effects  of  a  severe  access  of  the  credit  system, 
and  just  recovering  from  one  of  its  ruinous  delu- 
sions. 

Before  entering  into  the  story  of  this  famous 
chimera,  it  is  proper  to  give  a  few  particulars 
mcerningr   the    individual  who    engendered   it. 

iroo    Knrn   in     'FHinhliro'h   in    l67I.        His 


concerning   the    individual  who    engenden 
John  Law  was  born  in  Edinburgh  in  1671. 


His 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


387 


father,  William  Law,  was  a  rich  goldsmith,  and 
left  his  son  an  estate  of  considerable  value,  called 
Lauriston,  situated  about  four  miles  from  Edin- 
burgh. Goldsmiths,  in  those  days,  acted  occa- 
sionally as  bankers,  and  his  father's  operations, 
under  this  character,  may  have  originally  turned 
the  thoughts  of  the  youth  to  the  science  of  calcu- 
lation, in  which  he  became  an  adept  ;  so  that  at 
an  early  age  he  excelled  in  playing  at  all  games 
of  combination. 

In  1694  he  appeared  in  London,  where  a 
handsome  person,  and  an  easy  and  insinuating 
address,  gained  him  currency  in  the  first  circles, 
and  the  nick-name  of  "  Beau  Law."  The  same 
personal  advantages  gave  him  success  in  the 
world  of  gallantry,  until  he  became  involved  in  a 
quarrel  with  Beau  Wilson,  his  rival  in  fashion, 
whom  he  killed  in  a  duel,  and  then  fled  to  France, 
to  avoid  prosecution. 

He  returned  to  Edinburgh  in  1700,  and  remain- 
ed there  several  years  ;  during  which  time  he  first 
broached  his  great  credit  system,  offering  to 
supply  the  deficiency  of  coin  by  the  establishment 
of  a  bank,  which,  according  to  his  views,  might 
emit  a  paper  currency  equivalent  to  the  whole 
landed  estate  of  the  kingdom. 

His  scheme  excited  great  astonishment  in  Ed- 
inburgh ;  but,  though  the  government  was  not 
sufficiently  advanced  in  financial  knowledge  to 
detect  the  fallacies  upon  which  it  was  founded, 
Scottish  caution  and  suspicion  served  in  the  place 
of  wisdom,  and  the  project  was  rejected.  Law 
met  with  no  better  success  with  the  English  Par- 
liament ;  and  the  fatal  affair  of  the  death  of  Wil- 
son still  hanging  over  him,  for  which  he  had 
never  been  able  to  procure  a  pardon,  he  again 
went  to  France. 

The  financial  affairs  of  France  were  at  this 
time  in  a  deplorable  condition.  The  wars,  the 
pomp  and  profusion,  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  his  re- 
ligious persecutions  of  whole  classes  of  the  most 
industrious  of  his  subjects,  had  exhausted  his 
treasury,  and  overwhelmed  the  nation  with  debt. 
The  old  monarch  clung  to  his  selfish  magnifi- 
cence, and  could  not  be  induced  to  diminish  his 
enormous  expenditure  ;  and  his  minister  of 
finance  was  driven  to  his  wits'  end  to  devise  all 
kinds  of  disastrous  expedients  to  keep  up  the  royal 
state,  and  to  extricate  the  nation  from  its  embar- 
rassments. 

In  this  state  of  things,  Law  ventured  to  bring 
forward  his  financial  project.  It  was  founded  on 
the  plan  of  the  Bank  of  England,  which  had  al- 
ready been  in  successful  operation  several  years. 
He  met  with  immediate  patronage,  and  a  con- 
genial spirit,  in  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  who  had 
married  a  natural  daughter  of  the  king.  The 
duke  had  been  astonished  at  the  facility  with 
which  England  had  supported  the  burden  of  a 
public  debt,  created  by  the  wars  of  Anne  and 
William,  and  which  exceeded  in  amount  that  un- 
der which  France  was  groaning.  The  whole 
matter  was  soon  explained  by  Law  to  his  satisfac- 
tion. The  latter  maintained  that  England  had 
stopped  at  the  mere  threshold  of  an  art  capable  of 
creating  unlimited  sources  of  national  wealth. 
The  duke  was  dazzled  with  his  splendid  views  and 
specious  reasonings,  and  thought  he  clearly  com- 
prehended his  system.  Demarets,  the  Comp- 
troller General  of  Finance,  was  not  so  easily  de- 
ceived. He  pronounced  the  plan  of  Law  more 
pernicious  than  any  of  the  disastrous  expedients 
that  the  government  had  yet  been  driven  to.  The 
old  king  also,  Louis  XIV.,  detested  all  innova- 
tions, especially  those  which  came  from  a  rival 


nation  ;    the  project  of  a  bank,  therefore,  was  ut- 
terly rejected. 

Law  remained  for  a  while  in  Paris,  leading  a 
gay  and  affluent  existence,  owing  to  his  hand- 
some person,  easy  manners,  flexible  temper,  and 
a  faro-bank  which  he  had  set  up.  His  agreeable 
career  was  interrupted  by  a  message  from  D'Ar- 
genson,  Lieutenant  General  of  Police,  ordering 
him  to  quit  Paris,  alleging  that  he  was  "  rather 
too  skilful  at  the  game  ivhich  he  had  intro- 
duced. ' ' 

For  several  succeeding  years  he  shifted  his  res- 
idence from  state  to  state  of  Italy  and  Germany  ; 
offering  his  scheme  of  finance  to  every  court  that 
he  visited,  but  without  success.  The  Duke  of 
Savoy,  Victor  Amadeus,  afterward  King  of  Sar- 
dinia, was  much  struck  with  his  project  ;  but  after 
considering  it  for  a  time,  replied^  "  I  am  not  suf- 
ficiently powerful  to  ruin  myself. 

The  shifting,  adventurous  lite  of  Law,  and  the 
equivocal  means  by  which  he  appeared  to  live, 
playing  high,  and  always  with  great  success, 
threw  a  cloud  of  suspicion  over  him,  wherever  he 
went,  and  caused  him  to  be  expelled  by  the  ma- 
gistracy from  the  semi-commercial,  semi-aristo- 
cratical  cities  of  Venice  and  Genoa. 

The  events  of  1715  brought  Law  back  again  to 
Paris.  Louis  XIV.  was  dead.  Louis  XV.  was  a 
mere  child,  and  during  his  minority  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  held  the  reins  of  government  as  Regent. 
Law  had  at  length  found  his  man. 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  has  been  differently  repre- 
sented by  different  contemporaries.  He  appears 
to  have  had  excellent  natural  qualities,  perverted 
by  a  bad  education.  He  was  of  the  middle  size,  . 
easy  and  graceful,  with  an  agreeable  counte- 
nance, and  open,  affable  demeanor.  His  mind 
was  quick  and  sagacious,  rather  than  profound  ; 
and  his  quickness  of  intellect,  and  excellence  of 
memory,  supplied  the  lack  of  studious  applica- 
tion. His  wit  was  prompt  and  pungent  ;  he  ex- 
pressed himself  with  vivacity  and  precision  ;  his 
imagination  was  vivid,  his  temperament  sanguine 
and  joyous  ;  his  courage  daring.  His  mother, 
the  Duchess  of  Orleans,  expressed  his  character  in 
a  jeu  d'esprit.  "The  fairies,"  said  she,  "were 
invited  to  be  present  at  his  birth,  and  each  one 
conferring  a  talent  on  my  son,  he  possesses  them 
all.  Unfortunately,  we  had  forgotten  to  invite  an 
old  fairy,  who,  arriving  after  all  the  others,  ex- 
claimed, '  He  shall  have  all  the  talents,  excepting 
that  to  make  a  good  use  of  them.'  ' 

Under  proper  tuition,  the  Duke  might  have 
risen  to  real  greatness  ;  but  in  his  early  years,  he 
was  put  under  the  tutelage  of  the  Abbe  Dubois, 
one  of  the  subtlest  and  basest  spirits  that  ever  in- 
trigued its  way  into  .eminent  place  and  power. 
The  Abbe"  was  of  low  origin,  and  despicable  ex- 
terior, totally  destitute  of  morals,  and  perfidious 
in  the  extreme  ;  but  with  a  supple,  insinuating 
address,  and  an  accommodating  spirit,  tolerant 
of  all  kinds  of  profligacy  in  others.  Conscious  ot 
his  own  inherent  baseness,  he  sought  to  secure  an 
influence  over  his  pupil,  by  corrupting  his  princi- 
ples and  fostering  his  vices  ;  he  debased  him,  to 
keep  himself  from  being  despised.  Unfortunately 
he  succeeded.  To  the  early  precepts  of  this  infa- 
mous pander  have  been  attributed  those  excesses 
that  disgraced  the  manhood  of  the  Regent,  and 
gave  a  licentious  character  to  his  whole  course  of 
government.  His  love  of  pleasure,  quickened 
and  indulged  by  those  who  should  have  restrained 
it,  led  him  into  all  kinds  of  sensual  indulgence. 
He  had  been  taught  to  think  lightly  of  the  most 
serious  duties  and  sacred  ties  ;  to  turn  virtue  into 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


a  jest,  and  consider  religion  mere  hypocrisy.  He 
was  a  gay  misanthrope,  that  had  a  sovereign  but 
sportive  contempt  ior  mankind  ;  believed  that  his 
most  devoted  servant  would  be  his  enemy,  if  in- 
terest prompted  ;  and  maintained  that  an  honest 
man  was  he  who  had  the  art  to  conceal  that  he 
was  the  contrary. 

He  surrounded  himself  with  a  set  of  dissolute 
men  like  himself  ;  who,  let  loose  from  the  re- 
straint under  which  they  had  been  held,  during 
the  latter  hypocritical  clays  of  Louis  XIV.,  now 
gave  way  to  every  kind  of  debauchery.  With 
these  men  the  Regent  used  to  shut  himself  up, 
after  the  hours  of  business,  and  excluding  all 
graver  persons  and  graver  concerns,  celebrate 
the  most  drunken  and  disgusting  orgies  ;  where 
obscenity  and  blasphemy  formed  the  seasoning  of 
conversation.  For  the  profligate  companions  of 
these  revels,  he  invented  the  appellation  of  his 
roues,  the  literal  meaning  of  which  is  men  bro- 
ken on  the  wheel  ;  intended,  no  doubt,  to  express 
their  broken-down  characters  and  dislocated  for- 
tunes ;  although  a  contemporary  asserts  that  it 
designated  the  punishment  that  most  of  them 
merited.  Madame  de  Labran,  who  was  present 
at  one  of  the  Regent's  suppers,  was  disgusted  by 
the  conduct  and  conversation  of  the  host  and  his 
guests,  and  observed  at  table,  that  God,  after  he 
had  created  man,  took  the  refuse  clay  that  was 
left,  and  '  made  of  it  the  souls  of  lacqueys  and 
princes. 

Such  was  the  man  that  now  ruled  the  destinies 
of  France.  Law  found  him  full  of  perplexities, 
from  the  disastrous  state  of  the  finances.  He 
had  already  tampered  with  the  coinage,  calling 
in  the  coin  of  the  nation,  re-stamping  it,  and  issu- 
ing it  at  a  nominal  increase  of  one  fifth  ;  thus  de- 
frauding the  nation  out  of  twenty  per  cent  of  its 
capital.  He  was  not  likely,  therefore,  to  be  scru- 
pulous about  any  means  likely  to  relieve  him 
from  financial  difficulties  ;  he  had  even  been  led 
to  listen  to  the  cruel  alternative  of  a  national 
bankruptcy. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Law  confidently 
brought  forward  his  scheme  of  a  bank,  that  was 
to  pay  off  the  national  debt,  increase  the  revenue, 
and  at  the  same  time  diminish  the  taxes.  The 
following  is  stated  as  the  theory  by  which  he  rec- 
ommended his  system  to  the  Regent.  The  credit 
enjoyed  by  a  banker  or  a  merchant,  he  observed, 
increases  his  capital  tenfold  ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
who  has  a  capital  of  one  thousand  livres,  may,  if 
he  possess  sufficient  credit,  extend  his  operations 
to  a  million,  and  reap  profits  to  that  amount.  In 
like  manner,  a  state  that  can  collect  into  a  bank 
all  the  current  coin  of  the  kingdom,  would  be  as 
.powerful  as  if  its  capital  were  increased  tenfold. 
The  specie  must  be  drawn  into  the  bank,  not  by 
way  of  loan,  or  by  taxations,  but  in  the  way  of  de- 
posit. This  might  be  effected  in  different  modes, 
either  by  inspiring  confidence,  or  by  exerting  au- 
thority. One  mode,  he  observed,  had  already 
been  in  use.  Each  time  that  a  state  makes  a  re- 
coinage,  it  becomes  momentarily  the  depositary 
of  all  the  money  called  in,  belonging  to  the  sub- 
jects of  that  state.  His  bank  was  to  effect  the 
same  purpose  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  receive  in  deposit 
all  the  coin  of  the  kingdom,  but  to  give  in  ex- 
change its  bills,  which,  being  of  an  invariable 
value,  bearing  an  interest,  .and  being  payable  on 
demand,  would  not  only  supply  the  place  of  coin, 
but  prove  a  better  and  more  profitable  currency. 

The  Regent  caught  with  avidity  at  the 
scheme.  It  suited  his  bold,  reckless  spirit,  and 
his  grasping  extravagance.  Not  that  he  was  alto- 


gether the  dupe  of  LawVspecious  projects  ;  still 
he  was  apt,  like  many  other  men,  unskilled  in  the 
arcana  of  finance,  to  mistake  the  multiplication 
of  money  for  the  multiplication  of  wealth  ;  not 
understanding  that  it  was  a  mere  agent  or  instru- 
ment in  the  interchange  of  traffic,  to  represent  the 
value  of  the  various  productions  of  industry  ;  and 
that  an  increased  circulation  of  coin  or  bank  bills, 
in  the  shape  of  currency,  only  adds  a  proportion- 
ably  increased  and  fictitious  value  to  such  pro- 
ductions. Law  enlisted  the  vanity  of  the  Regent 
in  his  cause.  He  persuaded  him  that  he  saw 
more  clearly  than  others  into  sublime  theories  of 
finance,  which  were  quite  above  the  ordinary  ap- 
prehension. He  used  to  declare  that,  excepting 
the  Regent  and  the  Duke  of  Savoy,  no  one  had 
thoroughly  comprehended  his  system. 

It  is  certain  that  it  met  with  strong  opposition 
from  the  Regent's  ministers,  the  Duke  de  Noail- 
les  and  the  Chancellor  d'Anguesseau  ;  and  it  was 
no  less  strenuously  opposed  by  the  Parliament  of 
Paris.  Law,  however,  had  a  potent  though  se- 
cret coadjutor  in  the  Abbe"  Dubois,  now  rising, 
during  the  regency,  into  great  political  power, 
and  who  retained  a  baneful  influence  over  the 
mind  of  the  Regent.  This  wily  priest,  as  avari- 
cious as  he  was  ambitious,  drew  large  sums 
from  Law  as  subsidies,  and  aided  him  greatly  in 
many  of  his  most  pernicious  operations.  He  aid- 
ed him,  in  the  present  instance,  to  fortify  the 
mind  of  the  Regent  against  all  the  remonstrances 
of  his  ministers  and  the  parliament. 

Accordingly,  on  the  2d  of  May,  1716,  letters 
patent  were  granted  to  Law,  to  establish  a  bank 
of  deposit,  discount,  and  circulation',  under  the 
firm  of  "  Law  and  Company,"  to  continue  for 
twenty  years.  The  capital  was  fixed  at  six  mil- 
lions of  livres,  divided  into  shares  of  five  hundred 
livres  each,  which  were  to  be  sold  for  twenty-five 
per  cent  of  the  regent's  debased  coin,  and  seventy- 
five  per  cent  of  the  public  securities  ;  which  were 
then  at  a  great  reduction  from  their  nominal 
value,  and  which  then  amounted  to  nineteen  hun- 
dred millions.  The  ostensible  object  of  the  bank, 
as  set  forth  in  the  patent,  was  to  encourage  the 
commerce  and  manufactures  of  France.  The 
louis  d'ors  and  crowns  of  the  bank  were  always 
to  retain  the  same  standard  of  value,  and  its  bills 
to  be  payable  in  them  on  demand. 

At  the  outset,  while  the  bank  was  limited  in  its 
operations,  and  while  its  paper  really  represented 
the  specie  in  its  vaults,  it  seemed  to  realize  all 
that  had  been  promised  from  it.  It  rapidly  ac- 
quired public  confidence,  and  an  extended  circu- 
lation, and  produced  an  activity  in  commerce, 
unknown  under  the  baneful  government  of  Louis 
XIV.  As  the  bills  of  the  bank  bore  an  interest, 
and  as  it  was  stipulated  they  would  be  of  invaria- 
ble value,  and  as  hints  had  been  artfully  circula- 
ted that  the  coin  would  experience  successive  di- 
minution, everybody  hastened  to  the  bank  to  ex- 
change gold  and  silver  for  paper.  So  great  be- 
came the  throng  of  depositors,  and  so  intense 
their  eagerness,  that  there  was  quite  a  press  and 
struggle  at  the  bank  door,  and  a  ludicrous  panic 
was  awakened,  as  if  there  was  danger  ot  their  not 
being  admitted.  An  anecdote  of  the  time  relates 
that  one  of  the  clerks,  with  an  ominous  smile, 
called  out  to  the  struggling  multitude,  "  Have  a 
little  patience,  my  friends  ;  we  mean  to  take  all 
your  money;"  an  assertion  disastrously  verified 
in  the  sequel. 

Thus,  by  the  simple  establishment  of  a  bank, 
Law  and  the  Regent  obtained  pledges  of  confi- 
dence for  the  consummation  of  further  and  more 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


389 


complicated  schemes,  as  yet  hidden  from  the 
public.  In  a  little  while,  the  bank*  shares  rose 
enormously.and  the  amount  of  its  notes  in  circu- 
lation exceeded  one  hundred  and  ten  millions  of 
livres.  A  subtle  stroke  of  policy  had  rendered  it 
popular  with  the  aristocracy.  Louis  XIV.  had 
several  years  previously  imposed  an  income  tax  of 
a  tenth,  giving  his  royal  word  that  it  should  cease 
in  1717.  This  tax  had  been  exceedingly  irksome 
to  the  privileged  orders  ;  and  in  the  present  dis- 
astrous times  they  had  dreaded  an  augmentation 
of  it.  In  consequence  of  the  successful  operation 
of  Law's  scheme,  however,  the  tax  was  abolished, 
and  now  nothing  was  to  be  heard  among  the  no- 
bility and  clergy,  but  praises  of  the  Regent  and 
the  bank. 

Hitherto  all  had  gone  well,  and  all  might  have 
continued  to  go  well,  had  not  the  paper  system 
been  further  expanded.  But  Law  had  yet  the 
grandest  part  of  his  scheme  to  develop.  He  had 
to  open  his  ideal  world  of  speculation,  his  El 
Dorado  of  unbounded  wealth.  The  English  had 
brought  the  vast  imaginary  commerce  of  the 
South  Seas  in  aid  of  their  banking  operations. 
Law  sought  to  bring,  as  an  immense  auxiliary  of 
his  bank,  the  whole  trade  of  the  Mississippi.  Un- 
der this  name  was  included  not  merely  the  river 
so  called,  but  the  vast  region  known  as  Louisiana, 
extending  from  north  latitude  29°  up  to  Canada 
in  north  latitude  40°.  This  country  had  been 
granted  by  Louis  XIV.  to  the  SieurCrozat,  but  he 
had  been  induced  to  resign  his  patent.  In  con- 
formity to  the  plea  of  Mr.  Law,  letters  patent 
were  granted  in  August,  1717,  for  the  creation  of 
a  commercial  company,  which  was  to  have  the 
colonizing  of  this  country,  and  the  monopoly  of  its 
trade  and  resources,  and  of  the  beaver  or  fur  trade 
with  Canada.  It  was  called  the  Western,  but  be- 
came better  known  as  the  Mississippi  Company. 
The  capital  was  fixed  at  one  hundred  millions  of 
livres,  divided  into  shares,  bearing  an  interest  of 
four  per  cent,  which  were  subscribed  for  in  the 
public  securities.  As  the  bank  was  to  co-operate 
with  the  company,  the  Regent  ordered  that  its 
bills  should  be  received  the  same  as  coin,  in  all 
payments  of  the  public  revenue.  Law  was  ap- 
pointed chief  director  of  this  company,  which  was 
an  exact  copy  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford's  South  Sea 
Company,  set  on  foot  in  1711,  and  which  distract- 
ed all  England  with  the  frenzy  of  speculation.  In 
like  manner  with  the  delusive  picturings  given  in 
that  memorable  scheme  of  the  sources  of  rich 
trade  to  be  opened  in  the  South  Sea  countries, 
Law  held  forth  magnificent  prospects  of  the  for- 
tunes to  be  made  in  colonizing  Louisiana,  which 
was  represented  as  a  veritable  land  of  promise, 
capable  of  yielding  every  variety  of  the  most 
precious  produce.  Reports,  too,  were  artfully 
circulated,  with  great  mystery,  as  if  to  the  "  cho- 
•sen  few,"  of  mines  of  gold  and  silver  recently 
discovered  in  Louisiana,  and  which  would  insure 
instant  wealth  to  the  early  purchasers.  These 
confidential  whispers  of  course  soon  became  pub- 
lic ;  and  were  confirmed  by  travellers  fresh  from 
the  Mississippi,  and  doubtless  bribed,  who  had 
seen  the  mines  in  question,  and  declared  them  su- 
perior in  richness  to  those  of  Mexico  and  Peru. 
Nay,  more,  ocular  proof  was  furnished  to  public 
credulity,  in  ingots  of  gold  conveyed  to  the  mint, 
as  if  just  brought  from  the  mines  of  Louisiana. 

Extraordinary  measures  were  adopted  to  force 
a  colonization.  An  edict  was  issued  to  collect 
and  transport  settlers  to  the  Mississippi.  The 
police  lent  its  aid.  The  streets  and  prisons  of 
Paris,  and  of  the  provincial  cities,  were  swept  of 


mendicants  and  vagabonds  of  all  kinds,  who  were 
conveyed  to  Havre  de  Grace.  About  six  thou- 
sand were  crowded  into  ships,  where  no  precau- 
tions had  been  taken  for  their  health  or  accommo- 
dation. Instruments  of  all  kinds  proper  for  the 
working  of  mines  were  ostentatiously  paraded  in 
public,  and  put  on  board  the  vessels  ;  and  the 
whole  set  sail  lor  this  fabled  El  Dorado,  which 
was  to  prove  the  grave  of  the  greater  part  of  its 
wretched  colonists. 

D'Anguesseau,  the  chancellor,  a  man  of  pro- 
bity and  integrity,  still  lifted  his  voice  against  the 
paper  system  of  Law,  and  his  project  of  coloniza- 
tion, and  was  eloquent  and  prophetic  in  picturing 
the  evils  they  were  calculated  to  produce  ;  ihe 
private  distress  and  public  degradation  ;  the  cor- 
ruption of  morals  and  manners  ;  the  triumph  of 
knaves  and  schemers  ;  the  ruin  of  fortunes,  and 
downfall  of  families.  He  was  incited  more  and 
more  to  this  opposition  by  the  Duke  de  Noailles, 
the  Minister  of  Finance,  who  was  jealous  of  the 
growing  ascendancy  of  Law  over  the  mind  of  the 
Regent,  but  was  less  honest  than  the  chancellor 
in  his  opposition.  The  Regent  was  excessively 
annoyed  by  the  difficulties  they  conjured  up  in  the 
way  of  his  darling  schemes  of  finance,  and  the 
countenance  they  gave  to  the  opposition  of  parlia- 
ment ;  which  body,  disgusted  more  and  more  with 
the  abuses  of  the  regency,  and  the  system  of  Law, 
had  gone  so  far  as  to  carry  its  remonstrances  to 
the  very  foot  of  the  throne. 

He  determined  to  relieve  himself  from  these  two 
ministers,  who,  either  through  honesty  or  policy, 
intreiered  with  all  his  plans.  Accordingly,  on 
the  28th  of  January,  1718,  he  dismissed  the  chan- 
cellor from  office,  and  exiled  him  to  his  estate  in 
the  country  ;  and  shortly  afterward  removed  the 
Duke  de  Noailles  from  the  administration  of  the 
finances. 

The  opposition  of  parliament  to  the  Regent  and 
his  measures  was  carried  on  with  increasing  vio- 
lence. That  body  aspired  to  an  equal  authority 
with  the  Regent  in  the  administration  of  affairs, 
and  pretended,  by  its  decree,  to  suspend  an  edict 
of  the  regency,  ordering  a  new  coinage  and  alter- 
ing the  value  of  the  currency.  But  its  chief  hos- 
tility was  levelled  against  Law,  a  foreigner  and  a 
heretic,  and  one  who  was  considered  by  a  majority 
of  the  members  in  the  light  of  a  malefactor.  In 
fact,  so  far  was  this  hostility  carried,  that  secret 
measures  were  taken  to  investigate  his  malversa- 
tions, and  to  collect  evidence  against  him  ;  and  it 
was  resolved  in  parliament  that,  should  the  testi- 
mony collected  justify  their  suspicions,  they  would 
have  him  seized  and  brought  before  them  ;  would 
give  him  a  brief  trial,  and  if  convicted,  would  hang 
him  in  the  courtyard  of  the  palace,  and  throw 
open  the  gates  after  the  execution,  that  the  public 
might  behold  his  corpse  ! 

Law  received  intimation  of  the  danger  hanging 
over  him,  and  was  in  terrible  trepidation.  He 
took  refuge  in  the  Palais  Royal,  the  residence  of 
the  Regent,  and  implored  his  protection.  The  Re- 
gent himself  was  embarrassed  by  the  sturdy  op- 
position of  parliament,  which  contemplated  noth- 
ing less  than  a  decree  reversing  most  of  his  pub- 
lic measures,  especially  those  of  finance.  His  in- 
decision kept  Law  for  a  time  in  an  agony  of  terror 
and  suspense.  Finally,  by  assembling  a  board  of 
justice,  and  bringing  to  his  aid  the  absolute  au- 
thority of  the  King,  he  triumphed  over  parliament 
and  relieved  Law  from  his  dread  of  being  hanged. 

The  system  now  went  on  with  flowing  sail. 
The  Western  or  Mississippi  Company,  being  identi- 
fied with  the  bank,  rapidly  increased  in  power 


390 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


and  privileges.  One  monopoly  after  another  was 
granted  to  it;  the. trade  of  the  Indian  seas  ;  the 
slave  trade  with  Senegal  and  Guinea  ;  the  farm- 
ing of  tobacco  ;  the  national  coinage,  etc.  Each 
new  privilege  was  made  a  pretext  for  issuing 
more  bills,  and  caused  an  immense  advance  in  the 
price  of  stock.  At  length,  on  the  4th  of  Decem- 
ber, 1718,  the  Regent  gave  the  establishment  the 
imposing  title  of  THE  ROYAL  BANK,  and  pro- 
claimed that  he  had  effected  the  purchase  of  all 
the  shares,  the  proceeds  of  which  he  had  added  to 
its  capital.  This  measure  seemed  to  shock  the 
public  feeling  more  than  any  other  connected 
with  the  system,  and  roused  the  indignation  of 
parliament.  The  French  nation  had  been  so  ac- 
customed to  attach  an  idea  of  everything  noble, 
lofty,  and  magnificent,  to  the  royal  name  and  per- 
son, especially  during  the  stately  and  sumptuous 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  they  could  not  at  first 
tolerate  the  idea  of  royalty  being  in  any  degree 
mingled  with  matters  of  traffic  and  finance,  and 
the  king  being  in  a  manner  a  banker.  It  was  one 
of  the  downward  steps,  however,  by  which  royalty 
lost  its  illusive  splendor  in  France,  and  became 
gradually  cheapened  in  the  public  mind. 

Arbitrary  measures  now  began  to  be  taken  to 
force  the  bills  of  the  bank  into  artificial  currency. 
On  the  27th  of  December  appeared  an  order  in 
council,  forbidding,  under  severe  penalties  the 
payment  of  any  sum  above  six  hundred  livres  in 
go.d  or  silver.  This  decree  rendered  bank  bills 
necessary  in  all  transactions  of  purchase  and  sale, 
and  called  for  a  new  emission.  The  prohibition 
was  occasionally  evaded  or  opposed  ;  confisca- 
tions were  the  consequence  ;  informers  were  re- 
warded, and  spies  and  traitors  began  to  spring 
up  in  all  the  domestic  walks  of  life. 

The  worst  effect  of  this  illusive  system  was  the 
mania  for  gain,  or  rather  for  gambling  in  stocks, 
that  now  seized  upon  the  whole  nation.  Under 
the  exciting  effects  of  lying  reports,  and  the  forc- 
ing effects  of  government  decrees,  the  shares  of 
the  company  went  on  rising  in  value  until  they 
reached  thirteen  hundred  per  cent.  Nothing  was 
now  spoken  of  but  the  price  of  shares,  and  the 
immense  fortunes  suddenly  made  by  lucky  specu- 
lators. Those  whom  Law  had  deluded  used  every 
means  to  delude  others.  The  most  extravagant 
dreams  were  indulged,  concerning  the  wealth  to 
flow  in  upon  the  company  from  its  colonies,  its 
trade,  and  its  various  monopolies.  It  is  true, 
nothing  as  yet  had  been  realized,  nor  could  in 
some  time  be  realized,  from  these  distant  sources, 
even  if  productive  ;  but  the  imaginations  of  specu- 
lators are  ever  in  the  advance,  and  their  conjec- 
tures are  immediately  converted  into  facts.  Ly- 
ing reports  now  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  of 
sure  avenues  to  fortune  suddenly  thrown  open. 
The  more  extravagant  the  fable,  the  more  readily 
was  it  believed.  To  doubt  was  to  awaken  anger, 
or  incur  ridicule.  In  a  time  of  public  infatuation, 
it  requires  no  small  exercise  of  courage  to  doubt 
a  popular  fallacy. 

Paris  now  became  the  centre  of  attraction  for 
the  adventurous  and  the  avaricious,  who  flocked 
to  it,  not  merely  from  the  provinces,  but  from 
neighboring  countries.  A  stock  exchange  was 
established  in  a  house  in  the  Rue  Quincampoix, 
and  became  immediately  the  gathering  place  of 
stock-jobbers.  The  exchange  opened  at  seven 
o'clock,  with  the  beat  of  drum  and  sound  of  bell, 
and  closed  at  night  with  the  same  signals. 
Guards  were  stationed  at  each  end  of  the  street, 
to  maintain  order,  and  exclude  carnages  and 
horses.  The  whole  street  swarmed  throughout 


the  day  like  a  bee-hive.  Bargains  of  all  kinds 
were  seized  upon  with  avidity.  Shares  of  stock 
passed  from  hand  to  hand,  mounting  in  value, 
one  knew  not  why.  Fortunes  were  made  in  a 
moment,  as  if  by  magic  ;  and  every  lucky  bargain 
prompted  those  around  to  a  more  desperate  throw 
of  the  die.  The  fever  went  on,  increasing  in  in- 
tensity as  the  day  declined  ;  and  when  the  drum 
beat,  and  the  bell  rang,  at  night,  to  close  the  ex- 
change, there  were  exclamations  of  impatience 
and  despair,  as  if  the  wheel  of  fortune  had  sud- 
denly been  stopped  when  about  to  make  its 
luckiest  evolution. 

To  engulf  all  classes  in  this  ruinous  vortex,  Law 
now  split  the  shares  of  fifty  millions  of  stock  each 
into  one  hundred  shares  ;  thus,  as  in  the  splitting 
of  lottery  tickets,  accommodating  the  venture  to 
the  humblest  purse.  Society  was  thus  stirred  up 
to  its  very  dregs,  and  adventurers  of  the  lowest 
order  hurried  to  the  stock  market.  All  honest, 
industrious  pursuits,  and  modest  gains,  were  now 
despised.  Wealth  was  to  be  obtained  instantly, 
without  labor,  and  without  stint.  The  upper 
classes  were  as  base  in  their  venality  as  the  lower. 
The  highest  and  most  powerful  nobles,  abandon- 
ing all  generous  pursuits  and  lofty  aims,  engaged 
in  the  vile  scuffle  for  gain.  They  were  even  baser 
than  the  lower  classes  ;  for  some  of  them,  who 
were  members  of  the  council  of  the  regency, 
abused  their  station  and  their  influence,  and  pro- 
moted measures  by  which  shares  arose  while  in 
their  hands,  and  they  made  immense  profits. 

The  Duke  de  Bourbon,  the  prince  of  Conti,  the 
Dukes  de  la  Force  and  D'Antin  were  among  the 
foremost  of  these  illustrious  stock-jobbers.  They 
were  nicknamed  the  Mississippi  Lords,  and  they 
smiled  at  the  sneering  title.  In  fact,  the  usual 
distinctions  of  society  had  lost  their  consequence, 
under  the  reign  oi  this  new  passion.  Rank,  tal- 
ent, military  fame,  no  longer  inspired  deference. 
All  respect  for  others,  all  self-respect,  were  for- 
gotten in  the  mercenary  struggle  of  the  stock- 
market.  Even  prelates  and  ecclesiastical  corpora- 
tions, forgetting  their  true  objects  of  devotion, 
mingled  among  the  votaries  of  Mammon.  They 
were  not  behind  those  who  wielded  the  civil 
power  in  fabricating  ordinances  suited  1o  their 
avaricious  purposes.  Theological  decisions  forth- 
with appeared,  in  which  the  anathema  launched 
by  the  Church  against  usury,  was  conveniently 
construed  as  not  extending  to  the  traffic  in  bank 
shares  ! 

The  Abbe"  Dubois  entered  into  the  mysteries  of 
stock-jobbing  with  all  the  zeal  of  an  apostle,  and 
enriched  himself  by  the  spoils  of  the  credulous  ; 
and  he  continually  drew  large  sums  from  Law,  as 
considerations  for  his  political  influence.  Faith- 
less to  his  country,  in  the  course  of  his  gambling 
speculations  he  transferred  to  England  a  great 
amount  of  specie,  which  had  been  paid  into  the  • 
royal  treasury  ;  thus  contributing  to  the  subsequent 
dearth  of  the  precious  metals. 

The  female  sex  participated  in  this  sordid  frenzy. 
Princesses  of  the  blood,  and  ladies  of  the  highest 
nobility,  were  among  the  most  rapacious  of  stock- 
jobbers. The  Regent  seemed  to  have  the  riches  of 
Croesus  at  his  command,  and  lavished  money  by 
hundreds  of  thousands  upon  his  female  relatives 
and  favorites,  as  well  as  upon  his  roues,  the  dis- 
solute companions  of  his  debauches.  "  My  son," 
writes  the  Regent's  mother,  in  her  correspon- 
dence, "  gave  me  shares  to  the  amount  of  two 
millions,  which  I  distributed  among  my  house- 
hold. The  King  also  took  several  millions  for  his 
own  household.  All  the  royal  family  have  had 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


391 


them  ;  all  the  children  and  grandchildren  of 
France,  and  the  princes  of  the  blood." 

Luxury  and  extravagance  kept  pace  with  this 
sudden  inflation  of  landed  wealth.  The  heredi- 
tary palaces  of  nobles  were  pulled  down,  and  re- 
built on  a  scale  of  augmented  splendor.  Enter- 
tainments were  given,  of  incredible  cost  and 
magnificence.  Never  before  had  been  such  dis- 
play in  houses,  furniture,  equipages,  and  amuse- 
ments. This  was  particularly  the  case  among 
persons  of  the  lower  ranks,  who  had  suddenly  be- 
come possessed  of  millions.  Ludicrous  anecdotes 
are  related  of  some  of  these  upstarts.  One,  who 
had  just  launched  a  splendid  carriage,  when 
about  to  use  it  for  the  first  time,  instead  of  getting 
in  at  the  door,  mounted,  through  habitude,  to  his 
accustomed  place  behind.  Some  ladies  of  quality, 
seeing  a  well-dressed  woman  covered  with  dia- 
monds, but  whom  nobody  knew,  alight  from  a 
very  handsome  carriage,  inquired  who  she  was  of 
the  footman.  He  replied,  with  a  sneer  :  "  It  is  a 
lady  who  has  recently  tumbled  from  a  garret  into 
this  carriage."  Mr.  Law's  domestics  were  said 
to  become  in  like  manner  suddenly  enriched  by  the 
crumbs  that  fell  from  his  table.  His  coachman, 
having  made  his  fortune,  retired  from  his  service. 
Mr.  Law  requested  him  to  procure  a  coachman  in 
his  place.  He  appeared  the  next  day  with  two, 
whom  he  pronounced  equally  good,  and  told  Mr. 
Law  :  "  Take  which  of  them  you  choose,  and  I 
will  take  the  other  !" 

Nor  were  these  novi  homini  treated  with  the 
distance  and  disdain  they  would  formerly  have 
experienced  from  the  haughty  aristocracy  of 
France.  The  pride  of  the  old  noblesse  had  been 
stifled  by  the  stronger  instinct  of  avarice.  They 
rather  sought  the  intimacy  and  confidence  of  these 
lucky  upstarts  ;  and  it  has  been  observed  that  a 
nobleman  would  gladly  take  his  'Seat  at  the  table 
of  the  fortunate  lacquey  of  yesterday,  in  hopes  of 
learning  from  him  the  secret  of  growing  rich  ! 

Law  now  went  about  with  a  countenance  ra- 
diant with  success  and  apparently  dispensing 
wealth  on  every  side.  "  He  is  admirably  skilled 
in  all  that  relates  to  finance,"  writes  the  Duchess 
of  Orleans,  the  Regent's  mother,  "  and  has  put  the 
affairs  of  the  state  in  such  good  order  that  all  the 
king's  debts  have  been  paid.  He  is  so  much  run 
after  that  he  has  no  repose  night  or  day.  A 
duchess  even  kissed  his  hand  publicly.  If  a 
duchess  can  do  this,  what  will  other  ladies  do  ?" 

Wherever  he  went,  his  path,  we  are  told,  was 
beset  by  a  sordid  throng,  who  waited  to  see  him 
pass,  and  sought  to  obtain  the  favor  of  a  word,  a 
nod,  or  smile,  as  if  a  mere  glance  from  him  would 
bestow  fortune.  When  at  home,  his  house  was 
absolutely  besieged  by  furious  candidates  for  for- 
tune. "  They  forced  the  doors,"  says  the  Duke 
de  St.  Simon  ;  "  they  scaled  his  windows  from  the 
garden  ;  they  made  their  way  into  his  cabinet 
down  the  chimney  !" 

The  same  venal  court  was  paid  by  all  classes  to 
his  family.  The  highest  ladies  of  the  court  vied 
with  each  other  in  meannesses  to  purchase  the 
lucrative  friendship  of  Mrs.  Law  and  her  daugh- 
ter. They  waited  upon  them  with  as  much  as- 
siduity and  adulation  as  if  they  had  been  prin- 
cesses of  the  blood.  The  Regent  one  day 
expressed  a  desire  that  some  duchess  should  ac- 
company his  daughter  to  Genoa.  "  My  Lord," 
said  some  one  present,  "  if  you  would  have  a 
choice  from  among  the  duchesses,  you  need  but 
send  to  Mrs.  Law's,  you  will  find  them  all  assem- 
bled there." 

The  wealth  of  Law  rapidly  increased  with  the 


expansion  of  the  bubble.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
months  he  purchased  fourteen  titled  estates,  pay- 
ing for  them  in  paper  ;  and  the  public  hailed  these 
sudden  and  vast  acquisitions  of  landed  property 
as  so  many  proofs  of  the  soundness  of  his  system. 
In  one  instance  he  met  with  a  shrewd  bargainer, 
who  had  not  the  general  faith  in  his  paper  money. 
The  President  de  Novion  insisted  on  being  paid  for 
an  estate  in  hard  coin.  Law  accordingly  brought 
the  amount,  four  hundred  thousand  livres,  in  spe- 
cie, saying,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  that  he  preferred 
paying  in  money  as  its  weight  rendered  it  a  mere 
incumbrance.  As  it  happened,  the  president 
could  give  no  clear  title  to  the  land,  and  the 
money  had  to  be  refunded.  He  paid  it  back  in 
paper,  which  Law  dared  not  refuse,  lest  he  should 
depreciate  it  in  the  market. 

The  course  of  illusory  credit  went  on  triumph- 
antly for  eighteen  months.  Law  had  nearly  ful- 
filled one  of  his  promises,  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  public  debt  had  been  paid  off  ;  but  how  paid  ? 
In  bank  shares,  which  had  been  trumped  up  several 
hundred  per  cent  above  their  value,  and  which 
were  to  vanish  like  smoke  in  the  hands  of  the 
holders. 

One  of  the  most  striking  attributes  of  Law  was 
the  imperturbable  assurance  and  self-possession 
with  which  he  replied  to  every  objection,  and 
found  a  solution  for  every  problem.  He  had  the 
dexterity  of  a  juggler  in  evading  difficulties  ;  and 
what  was  peculiar,  made  figures  themselves,  which 
are  the  very  elements  of  exact  demonstration,  the 
means  to  dazzle  and  bewilder. 

Toward  the  latter  end  of  1719  the  Mississippi 
scheme  had  reached  its  highest  point  of  glory. 
Half  a  million  of  strangers  had  crowded  into 
Paris,  in  quest  of  fortune.  The  hotels  and  lodg- 
ing-houses were  overflowing  ;  lodgings  were  pro- 
cured with  excessive  difficulty  ;  granaries  were 
turned  into  bed-rooms  ;  provisions  had  risen  enor- 
mously in  price  ;  splendid  houses  were  multiply- 
ing on  every  side  ;  the  streets  were  crowded  with 
carriages;  above  a  thousand  new  equipages  had 
been  launched. 

On  the  eleventh  of  December,  Law  obtained 
another  prohibitory  decree,  for  the  purpose  of 
sweeping  all  the  remaining  specie  in  circulation 
into  the  bank.  By  this  it  was  forbidden  to  make 
any  payment  in  silver  above  ten  livres,  or  in  gold 
above  three  hundred. 

The  repeated  decrees  of  this  nature,  the  object 
of  which  was  to  depreciate  the  value  of  gold,  and 
increase  the  illusive  credit  of  paper,  began  to 
awaken  doubts  of  a  system  which  required  such 
bolstering.  Capitalists  gradually  awoke  from  their 
bewilderment.  Sound  and  able  financiers  con- 
sulted together,  and  agreed  to  make  common 
cause  against  this  continual  expansion  of  a  paper 
system.  The  shares  of  the  bank  and  of  the  com- 
pany began  to  decline  in  value.  Wary  men  took 
the  alarm,  and  began  to  realize,  a  word  now  first 
brought  into  use,  to  express  the  conversion  of 
ideal  property  into  something  real. 

The  Prince  of  Conti,  one  of  the  most  prominent 
and  grasping  of  the  Mississippi  lords,  was  the 
first  to  give  a  blow  to  the  credit  of  the  bank. 
There  was  a  mixture  of  ingratitude  in  his  cofl- 
duct  that  characterized  the  venal  baseness  ol  the 
times.  He  had  received  from  time  to  time  enor- 
mous sums  from  Law,  as  the  price  of  his  influence 
and  patronage.  His  avarice  had  increased  with 
every  acquisition,  until  Law  was  compelled  to  re- 
luse  one  of  his  exactions.  In  revenge  the  prince 
immediately  sent  such  an  amount  of  paper  to  the 
bank  to  be  cashed,  that  it  required. four,  wagons 


392 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


to  bring  away  the  silver,  and  he  had  the  meanness 
to  loll  out  of  the  window  of  his  hotel  and  jest  and 
exult  as  it  was  trundled  into  his  port  cochere. 

This  was  the  signal  for  other  drains  of  like  na- 
ture. The  English  and  Dutch  merchants,  who 
had  purchased  a  great  amount  of  bank  paper  at 
low  prices,  cashed  them  at  the  bank,  and  carried 
the  money  out  of  the  country.  Other  strangers 
did  the  like,  thus  draining  the  kingdom  of  its  spe- 
cie, and  leaving  paper  in  its  place. 

The  Regent,  perceiving  these  symptoms  of  de- 
cay in  the  system,  sought  to  restore  it  to  public 
confidence,  by  conferring  marks  of  confidence  upon 
its  author.  He  accordingly  resolved  to  make 
Law  Comptroller  General  of  the  Finances  of 
France.  There  was  a  material  obstacle  in  his 
Law  was  a  Protestant,  and  the  Regent,  un- 


scrupulous as  he  was  himself,  did  not  dare  pub- 
licly to  outrage  the  severe  edicts  which  Louis 
XIV.,  in  his  bigot  days,  had  fulminated  against 
all  heretics.  Law  soon  let  him  know  that  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  on  that  head.  He  was 
ready  at  any  moment  to  abjure  his  religion  in  the 
way  of  business.  For  decency's  sake,  however,  it 
was  judged  proper  he  should  previously  be  con- 
vinced and  converted.  A  ghostly  instructor  was 
soon  found,  ready  to  accomplish  his  conversion 
in  the  shortest  possible  time.  This  was  the  Abbe 
Tencin,  a  profligate  creature  of  the  profligate 
Dubois,  and  like  him  working  his  way  to  ecclesi- 
astical promotion  and  temporal  wealth,  by  the 
basest  means. 

Under  the  instructions  of  the  Abbe"  Tencin, 
Law  soon  mastered  the  mysteries  and  dogmas  of 
the  Catholic  doctrine  ;  and,  after  a  brief  course  of 
ghostly  training,  declared  himself  thoroughly  con- 
vinced and  converted.  To  avoid  the  sneers  and 
jests  of  the  Parisian  public  the  ceremony  of  ab- 
juration took  place  at  Melun.  Law  made  a  pious 
present  of  one  hundred  thousand  livres  to  the 
Church  of  St.  Roque,  and  the  Abbe"  Tencin  was 
rewarded  for  his  edifying  labors  by  sundry  shares 
and  bank  bills  ;  which  he  shrewdly  took  care  to 
convert  into  cash,  having  as  little  faith  in  the  sys- 
tem as  in  the  piety  of  his  new  convert.  A  more 
grave  and  moral  community  might  have  been 
outraged  by  this  scandalous  farce  ;  but  the 
Parisians  laughed  at  it  with  their  usual  levity,  and 
contented  themselves  with  making  it  the  subject 
of  a  number  of  songs  and  epigrams. 

Law  now  being  orthodox  in  his  faith,  took  out 
letters  of  naturalization,  and  having  thus  sur- 
mounted the  intervening  obstacles,  was  elevated 
by  the  Regent  to  the  post  of  Comptroller  General. 
So  accustomed  had  the  community  become  to 
all  juggles  and  transmutations  in  this  hero  of 
finance,  that  no  one  seemed  shocked  or  astonished 
at  his  sudden  elevation.  On  the  contrary,  being 
now  considered  perfectly  established  in  place  and 
power,  he  became  more  than  ever  the  object  of 
venal  adoration.  Men  of  rank  and  dignity 
thronged  his  antechamber,  waiting  patiently  their 
turn  for  an  audience  ;  and  titled  dames  demeaned 
themselves  to  take  the  front  seats  of  the  carriages 
of  his  wife  and  daughter,  as  if  they  had  been  rid- 
ing with  princesses  of  the  blood  royal.  Law's 
Mead  grew  giddy  with  his  elevation,  and  he  began 
to  aspire  after  aristocratical  distinction.  There 
was  to  be  a  court  ball,  at  which  several  of  the 
young  noblemen  were  to  dance  in  a  ballet  with 
the  youthful  King.  Law  requested  that  his  son 
might  be  admitted  into  the  ballet,  and  the  Regent 
consented.  The  young  scions  of  nobility,  how- 
ever, were  indignant  and  scouted  the  "  intruding 
upstart."  Their  more  worldly  parents,  fearful  of 


displeasing  the  modern  Midas,  reprimanded  them 
in  vain.  The  striplings  had  not  yet  imbibed  the 
passion  for  gain,  and  still  held  to  their  high  blood. 
The  son  of  the  banker  received  slights  and  annoy- 
ances on  all  sides,  and  the  public  applauded  them 
for  their  spirit.  A  fit  of  illness  came  opportunely 
to  relieve  the  youth  from  an  honor  which  wouli 
have  cost  him  a  world  of  vexations  and  affronts. 

In  February,  1720,  shortly  after  Law's  instal- 
ment in  office,  a  decree  came  out  uniting  the  bank 
to  the  India  Company,  by  which  last  name  the 
whole  establishment  was  now  known.  The  de- 
cree stated  that  as  the  bank  was  royal,  the  King 
was  bound  to  make  good  the  value  of  its  bills  ; 
that  he  committed  to  the  company  the  govern- 
ment of  the  bank  for  fifty  years,  and  sold  to  it  fifty 
millions  of  stock  belonging  to  him,  for  nine  hun- 
dred millions  ;  a  simple  advance  of  eighteen  hun- 
dred per  cent.  The  decree  farther  declared,  in 
the  King's  name,  that  he  would  never  draw  on 
the  bank,  until  the  value  of  his  drafts  had  first 
been  lodged  in  it  by  his  receivers  general. 

The  bank,  it  was  said,  had  by  this  time  issued 
notes  to  the  amount  of  one  thousand  millions  ; 
being  more  paper  than  all  the  banks  of  Europe 
were  able  to  circulate.  To  aid  its  credit,  the  re- 
ceivers of  the  revenue  were  directed  to  take  bank 
notes  of  the  sub-receivers.  All  payments,  also, 
of  one  hundred  livres  and  upward  were  ordered 
to  be  made  in  bank-notes.  These  compulsory 
measures  for  a  short  time  gave  a  false  credit  to 
the  bank,  which  proceeded  to  discount  merchants' 
notes,  to  lend  money  on  jewels,  plate,  and  other 
valuables,  as  well  as  on  mortgages. 

Still  farther  to  force  on  the  system  an  edict  next 
appeared,  forbidding  any  individual,  or  any  cor- 
porate body,  civil  or  religious,  to  hold  in  posses- 
sion more  than  five  hundred  livres  in  current 
coin  ;  that  is  to  say,  about  seven  louis-d'ors  ;  the 
value  of  the  louis-d'or  in  paper  being,  at  the 
time,  seventy-two  livres.  All  the  gold  and  silver 
they  might  have  above  this  pittance  was  to  be 
brought  to  the  royal  bank,  and  exchanged  either 
for  shares  or  bills. 

As  confiscation  was  the  penalty  of  disobedience 
to  this  decree,  and  informers  were  assured  a  share 
of  the  forfeitures,  a  bounty  was  in  a  manner  held 
out  to  domestic  spies  and  traitors  ;  and  the  most 
odious  scrutiny  was  awakened  into  the  pecuniary 
affairs  of  families  and  individuals.  The  very  con- 
fidence between  friends  and  relatives  was  im- 
paired, and  all  the  domestic  ties  and  virtues  of 
society  were  threatened,  until  a  general  sentiment 
of  indignation  broke  forth,  that  compelled  the  Re- 
gent to  rescind  the  odious  decree.  Lord  Stairs, 
the  British  ambassador,  speaking  of  the  system  of 
espionage  encouraged  by  this  edict,  observed  that 
it  was  impossible  to  doubt  that  Law  was 
thorough  Catholic,  since  he  had  thus  establishec 
the  inquisition,  after  having  already  proved  tran- 
substantiation,  by  changing  specie  into  paper. 

Equal  abuses  had  taken  place  under  the  cok 
nizing  project.      In   his  thousand   expedients 
amass  capital,  Law  had  sold   parcels   of  land  it 
Mississippi,  at  the  rate  of  three  thousand   livre 
for  a  league  square.     Many  capitalists  had  pur- 
chased estates  large  enough  to  constitute  almost 
principality  ;    the  only  evil   was,  Law  had  sold 
property  which  he  could  not  deliver.     The  agent 
of  police,  who  aided  in  recruiting  the  ranks  of  the 
colonists,  had  been  guilty  of  scandalous  imposi- 
tions.    Under  pretence  of  taking  up  mendicant 
and  vagabonds,  they  had  scoured  the  streets  at 
night,  seizing   upon    honest   mechanics,    or  their 
sons,  and  hurrying  them  to  their  crimping-houses, 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


393 


for  the  sole  purpose  of  extorting  money  from  them 
as  a  ransom.  The  populace  was  roused  to  indig- 
nation by  these  abuses.  The  officers  of  police 
were  mobbed  in  the  exercise  of  their  odious  func- 
tions, and  several  of  them  were  killed  ;  which  put 
an  end  to  this  flagrant  abuse  ot  power. 

In  March,  a  most  extraordinary  decree  of  the 
.council  fixed  the  price  ot  shares  of  the  India  Com- 
pany at  nine  thousand  livres  each.  All  ecclesias- 
tical communities  and  hospitals  were  now  pro- 
hibited from  investing  money  at  interest,  in  any- 
thing but  India  stock.  With  all  these  props  and 
stays,  the  system  continued  to  totter.  How  could 
it  be  otherwise,  under  a  despotic  government, 
that  could  alter  the  value  of  property  at  every  mo- 
ment ?  The  very  compulsory  measures  that  were 
adopted  to  establish  the  credit  ot  the  bank 
hastened  its  fall  ;  plainly  showing  there  was  a 
want  of  solid  security.  Law  caused  pamphlets  to 
be  published,  setting  forth,  in  eloquent  language, 
the  vast  profits  that  must  accrue  to  holders  of  the 
stock,  and  the  impossibility  of  the  King's  ever 
doing  it  any  harm.  On  the  very  back  of  these  as- 
sertions came  forth  an  edict  of  the  King,  dated 
the  22d  of  May,  wherein,  under  pretence  of  having 
reduced  the  value  of  his  coin,  it  was  declared 
necessary  to  reduce  the  value  of  his  bank-notes 
one-half,  and  of  the  India  shares  from  nine  thou- 
sand to  five  thousand  livres. 

This  decree  came  like  a  clap  of  thunder  upon 
shareholders.  They  found  one  half  of  the  pre- 
tended value  of  the  paper  in  their  hands  annihi- 
lated in  an  instant  ;  and  what  certainty  had  they 
with  respect  to  the  other  half  ?  The  rich  consid- 
ered themselves  ruined  ;  those  in  humbler  circum- 
stances looked  forward  to  abject  beggary. 

The  parliament  seized  the  occasion  to  stand 
forth  as  the  protector  of  the  public,  and  refused 
to  register  the  decree.  It  gained  the  credit  of 
compelling  the  Regent  to  retrace  his  step,  though 
it  is  more  probable  he  yielded  to  the  universal 
burst  of  public  astonishment  and  reprobation. 
On  the  27th  of  May  the  edict  was  revoked,  and 
bank-bills  were  restored  to  their  previous  value. 
But  the  tatal  blow  had  been  struck  ;  the  delusion 
was  at  an  end.  Government  itself  had  lost  all 
public  confidence,  equally  with  the  bank  it  had 
engendered,  and  which  its  own  arbitrary  acts  had 
brought  into  discredit.  "  All  Paris,"  says  the 
Regent's  mother,  in  her  letters,  "  has  been  mourn- 
ing at  the  cursed  decree  which  Law  has  persuaded 
my  son  to  make.  I  have  received  anonymous  let- 
ters, stating  that  I  have  nothing  to  fear  on  my  own 
account,  but  that  my  son  shall  be  pursued  with 
fire  and  sword." 

The  Regent  now  endeavored  to  avert  the  odium 
of  his  ruinous  schemes  from  himself.  He  affect- 
ed to  have  suddenly  lost  confidence  in  Law,  and 
on  the  2Qth  of  May,  discharged  him  from  his  em- 
ploy as  Comptroller  General,  and  stationed  a 
Swiss  guard  of  sixteen  men  in  his  house.  He 
even  refused  to  see  him,  when,  on  the  following 
day,  he  applied  at  the  portal  of  the  Palais  Royal 
for  admission  :  but  having  played  off  this  farce 
before  the  public,  he  admitted  him  secretly  the 
same  night,  by  a  private  door,  and  continued  as 
before  to  co-operate  with  him  in  his  financial 
schemes. 

On  the  first  ot  June,  the  Regent  issued  a  decree, 
permitting  persons  to  have  as  much  money  as 
they  pleased  in  their  possession.  Few,  however, 
were  in  a  state  to  benefit  by  this  permission. 
There  was  a  run  upon  the  bank,  but  a  royal  or- 
dinance immediately  suspended  payment,  until 
farther  orders.  To  relieve  the  public  mind,  a  city 


stock  was  created,  of  twenty-five  millions,  bearing 
an  interest  of  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  for  which 
bank  notes  were  taken  in  exchange.  The  bank 
notes  thus  withdrawn  from  circulation,  were  pub^ 
licly  burned  before  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  The  pub- 
lic, however,  had  lost  confidence  in  everything 
and  everybody,  and  suspected  fraud  and  collusion 
in  those  who  pretended  to  burn  the  bills. 

A  general  confusion  now  took  place  in  the  finanr 
cial  world.  Families  who  had  lived  in  opulence; 
found  themselves  suddenly  reduced  to  indigence. 
Schemers  who  had  been  revelling  in  the  delusion 
of  princely  fortune,  found  their  estates  vanishing 
into  thin  air.  Those  who  had  any  property  re- 
maining, sought  to  secure  it  against  reverses; 
Cautious  persons  found  there  was  no  safety  for 
property  in  a  country  where  the  coin  was  continu- 
ally shifting  in  value,  and  where  a  despotism  was 
exercised  over  public  securities,  and  even  over 
the  private  purses  of  individuals.  They  began  to 
send  their  effects  into  other  countries  ;  when  lo  I 
on  the  2oth  of  June  a  royal  edict  commanded 
them  to  bring  back  their  effects,  under  penalty  ol 
forfeiting  twice  their  value  ;  and  forbade  them, 
under  like  penalty,  from  investing  their  money  in 
foreign  stocks.  This  was  soon  followed  by 
another  decree,  forbidding  any  one  to  retain  pre- 
cious stones  in  his  possession,  or  to  sell  them  to 
foreigners  ;  all  must  be  deposited  in  the  bank,  in 
exchange  for  depreciating  paper  ! 

Execrations  were  now  poured  out  on  all  sides, 
against  Law,  and  menaces  of  vengeance.  What 
a  contrast,  in  a  short  time,  to  the  venal  incense 
that  was  offered  up  to  him  !  "  This  person,'' 
writes  the  Regent's  mother,  "  who  was  formerly 
worshipped  as  a  god,  is  now  not  sure  of  his  life. 
It  is  astonishing  how  greatly  terrified  he  is.  He 
is  as  a  dead  man  ;  he  is  pale  as  a  sheet,  and  it  is, 
said  he  can  never  get  over  it.  My  son  is  not  dis- 
mayed, though  he  is  threatened  on  all  sides  ;  and 
is  very  much  amused  with  Law's  terrors." 

About  the  middle  of  July  the  last  grand  attempt 
was  made  by  Law  and  the  Regent,  to  keep  up  the 
system,  and  provide  for  the  immense  emission  of 
paper.  A  decree  was  fabricated,  giving  the  India 
Company  the  entire  monopoly  of  commerce,  on 
condition  that  it  would,  in  the  course  of  a  year, 
reimburse  six  hundred  millions  of  livres  of  its 
bills,  at  the  rate  of  fifty  millions  per  month. 

On  the  iyth  this  decree  was  sent  to  parliament 
to  be  registered.  It  at  once  raised  a  storm  of  op- 
position in  that  assembly  ;  and  a  vehement  dis- 
cussion took  place.  While  that  was  going  on,  a 
disastrous  scene  was  passing  out  of  doors. 

The  calamitous  effects  of  the  system  had  reach- 
ed the  humblest  concerns  of  human  liie.  Provis- 
ions had  risen  to  an  enormous  price;  paper 
money  was  refused  at  all  the  shops  ;  the  people 
had  not  wherewithal  to  buy  bread.  It  had  been 
found  absolutely  indispensable  to  relax  a  littlq 
from  the  suspension  of  specie  payments,  and  to 
allow  small  sums  to  be  scantily  exchanged  for 
paper.  The  doors  of  the  bank  and  the  neighborT 
ing  streets  were  immediately  thronged  with  a 
famishing  multitude,  seeking  cash  for  bank-notes 
of  ten  livres.  So  great  was  the  press  and  strug- 
gle that  several  persons  were  stifled  and  crushed  to 
death.  The  mob  carried  three  of  the  bodies  to 
the  couit-yard  of  the  Palais  Royal.  Some  cried 
for  the  Regent  to  come  forth,  and  behold  the  effect 
of  his  system  ;  others  demanded  the  death  of 
Law,  the  impostor,  who  had  brought  this  misery 
and  ruin  upon  the  nation. 

The  moment  was  critical,  the  popular  fury  was 
rising  to  a  tempest,  when  Le  Blanc,  the  Secretary 


394 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


of  State,  stepped  forth.  He  had  previously  sent 
for  the  military,  and  now  only  sought  to  gain 
time.  Singling  out  six  or  seven  stout  fellows,  who 
seemed  to  be  the  ringleaders  of  the  mob  :  "  My 
good  fellows,"  said  he,  calmly,  "  carry  away 
•  these  bodies  and  place  them  in  some  church,  and 
then  come  back  quickly  to  me  for  your  pay." 
They  immediately  obeyed  ;  a  kind  of  funeral  pro- 
cession was  formed  ;  the  arrival  of  troops  dis- 
persed those  who  lingered  behind  ;  and  Paris  was 
probably  saved  from  an  insurrection. 

About  ten  o  clock  in  the  morning,  all  being 
quiet,  Law  ventured  to  go  in  his  carriage  to  the 
Palais  Royal.  He  was  saluted  with  cries  and 
curses,  as  he  passed  along  the  streets  ;  and  he 
reached  the  Palais  Royal  in  a  terrible  fright.  The 
Regent  amused  himself  with  his  fears,  but  retain- 
ed him  with  him,  and  sent  off  his  carriage,  which 
was  assailed  by  the  mob,  pelted  with  stones,  and 
the  glasses  shivered.  The  news  of  this  outrage 
\vas  communicated  to  parliament  in  the  midst  of 
a  furious  discussion  of  the  decree  for  the  commer- 
cial monopoly.  The  first  president,  who  had 
been  absent  for  a  short  time,  re-entered,  and  com- 
municated the  tidings  in  a  whimsical  couplet  : 

"  Messieurs,  Messieurs  !  bonne  nouvelle  ! 
Le  carrosse  de  Law  est  reduite  en  carrelle  !" 

"  Gentlemen,  Gentlemen  !  good  news  ! 

The  carriage  of  Law  is  shivered  to  atoms  !" 

The  members  sprang  up  with  joy  ;  "  And  Law  !" 
exclaimed  they,  "  has  he  been  torn  to  pieces  ?" 
The  president  was  ignorant  of  the  result  of  the 
tumult  ;  whereupon  the  debate  was  cut  short,  the 
decree  rejected,  and  the  house  adjourned  ;  the 
members  hurrying  to  learn  the  particulars.  Such 
was  the  levity  with  which  public  affairs  were  treat- 
ed at  that  dissolute  and  disastrous  period. 

On  the  following  day,  there  was  an  ordinance 
from  the  king,  prohibiting  all  popular  assem- 
blages ;  and  troops  were  stationed  at  various 
points,  and  in  all  public  places.  The  regiment 
of  guards  was  ordered  to  hold  itself  in  readiness  ; 
and  the  musqueteers  to  be  at  their  hotels,  with 
their  horses  ready  saddled.  A  number  of  small 
offices  were  opened,  where  people  might  cash 
small  notes,  though  with  great  delay  and  diffi- 
culty. An  edict  was  also  issued  declaring  that 
whoever  should  refuse  to  take  bank-notes  in  the 
course  of  trade  should  forfeit  double  the  amount ! 

The  continued  and  vehement  opposition  of  par- 
liament to  the  whole  delusive  system  of  finance, 
had  been  a  constant  source  of  annoyance  to  the 
Regent  ;  but  this  obstinate  rejection  of  his  last 
grand  expedient  of  a  commercial  monopoly,  was 
not  to  be  tolerated.  He  determined  to  punish 
that  intractable  body.  The  Abbe"  Dubois  and 
Law  suggested  a  simple  mode  ;  it  was  to  sup- 
press the  parliament  altogether,  being,  as  they 
observed,  so  far  from  useful,  that  it  was  a  con- 
stant impediment  to  the  march  of  public  affairs. 
The  Regent  was  half  inclined  to  listen  to  their 
advice  ;  but  upon  calmer  consideration,  and  the 
advice  of  friends,  he  adopted  a  more  moderate 
course.  On  the  2oth  of  July,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, all  the  doors  of  the  parliament-house  were 
taken  possession  of  by  troops.  Others  were  sent 
to  surround  the  house  of  the  first  president,  and 
others  to  the  houses  of  the  various  members  ;  who 
were  all  at  first  in  great  alarm,  until  an  order  from 
the  king  was  put  into  their  hands,  to  render  them- 
selves at  Pontoise,  in  the  course  of  two  days,  to 
which  place  the  parliament  was  thus  suddenly 
and  arbitrarily  transferred. 

This  despotic  act,  says  Voltaire,  would  at  any- 


other  time  have  caused  an  insurrection  ;  but  one 
half  of  the  Parisians  were  occupied  by  their  ruin, 
and  the  other  half  by  their  fancied  riches,  which 
were  soon  to  vanish.  The  president  and  mem- 
bers of  parliament  acquiesced  in  the  mandate 
without  a  murmur  ;  they  even  went  as  if  on  a 
party  of  pleasure,  and  made  every  preparation 
to  lead  a  joyous  life  in  their  exile.  The  musque- 
teers, who  held  possession  of  the  vacated  parlia- 
ment-house, a  gay  corps  of  fashionable  young 
fellows,  amused  themselves  with  making  songs 
and  pasquinades,  at  the  expense  of  the  exiled  leg- 
islators ;  and  at  length,  to  pass  away  time,  form- 
ed themselves  into  a  mock  parliament  ;  elected 
their  presidents,  kings,  ministers,  and  advo- 
cates ;  took  their  seats  in  due  form,  arraigned  a 
cat  at  their  bar,  in  place  of  the  Sieur  Law,  and 
after  giving  it  a  "  fair  trial,"  condemned  it  to  be 
hanged.  In  this  manner  public  affairs  and  public 
institutions  were  lightly  turned  to  jest. 

As  to  the  exiled  parliament,  it  lived  gayly  and 
luxuriously  at  Pontoise,  at  the  public  expense  ; 
for  the  Regent  had  furnished  funds,  as  usual, 
with  a  lavish  hand.  The  first  president  had  the 
mansion  of  the  Duke  de  Bouillon  put  at  his  dis- 
posal, already  furnished,  with  a  vast  and  delight- 
ful garden  on  the  borders  of  a  river.  There  he 
kept  open  house  to  all  the  members  of  parlia- 
ment. Several  tables  were  spread  every  day,  all 
furnished  luxuriously  and  splendidly  ;  the  most  ex- 
quisite wines  and  liqueurs,  the  choicest  fruits  and 
refreshments,  of  all  kinds,  abounded.  A  number 
of  small  chariots  for  one  and  two  horses  were  al- 
ways at  hand,  for  such  ladies  and  old  gentlemen 
as  wished  to  take  an  airing  after  dinner,  and  card 
and  billiard  tables  for  such  as  chose  to  amuse 
themselves  in  that  way  until  supper.  The  sister 
and  the  daughter  of  the  first  president  did  the 
honors  of  the  house,  and  he  himself  presided 
there  with  an  air  of  great  ease,  hospitality,  and 
magnificence.  It  became  a  party  of  pleasure  to 
drive  from  Paris  to  Pontoise,  which  was  six 
leagues  distant,  and  partake  of  the  amusements 
and  festivities  of  the  place.  Business  was  openly 
slighted  ;  nothing  was  thought  of  but  amusement. 
The  Regent  and  his  government  were  laughed  at, 
and  made  the  subjects  of  continual  pleasantries  ; 
while  the  enormous  expenses  incurred  by  this  idle 
and  lavish  course  of  life,  more  than  doubled  the 
liberal  sums  provided.  This  was  the  way  in 
which  the  parliament  resented  their  exile. 

During  all  this  time,  the  system  was  getting 
more  and  more  involved.  The  stock  exchange 
had  some  time  previously  been  removed  to  the 
Place  Vendome  ;  but  the  tumult  and  noise  be- 
coming intolerable  to  the  residents  of  that  polite 
quarter,  and  especially  to  the  chancellor,  whose 
hotel  was  there,  the  Prince  and  Princess  Carignan, 
both  deep  gamblers  in  Mississippi  stock,  offered 
the  extensive  garden  of  the  Hotel  de  Soissons  as 
a  rallying-place  for  the  worshippers  of  Mammon. 
The  offer  was  accepted.  A  number  of  barracks 
were  immediately  erected  in  the  garden,  as 
offices  for  the  stock-brokers,  and  an  order  was 
obtained  from  the  Regent,  under  pretext  of  police 
regulations,  that  no  bargain  should  be  valid  unless 
concluded  in  these  barracks.  The  rent  of  them 
immediately  mounted  to  a  hundred  livres  a  month 
for  each,  and  the  whole  yielded  these  noble  pro- 
prietors an  ignoble  revenue  ot  halt  a  million  of 
livres. 

The  mania  for  gain,  however,  was  now  at  an 
end.  A  universal  panic  succeded.  "  Sauve  gui 
peut .'"  was  the  watchword.  Every  one  was  anx- 
ious to  exchange  falling  paper  for  something  of 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


395 


intrinsic  and  permanent  value.  Since  money- 
was  not  to  be  had,  jewels,  precious  stones,  plate, 
porcelain,  trinkets  of  gold  and  silver,  all  com- 
manded any  price  in  paper.  Land  was  bought  at 
fifty  years'  purchase,  and  he  esteemed  himself 
happy  who  could  get  it  even  at  ihis  price.  Mo- 
nopolies now  became  the  rage  among  the  noble 
holders  of  paper.  The  Duke  de  la  Force  bought 
up  nearly  all  the  tallow,  grease,  and  soap  ;  others 
the  coffee  and  spices  ;  others  hay  and  oats.  For- 
eign exchanges  were  almost  impracticable.  The 
debts  of  Dutch  and  English  merchants  were  paid 
in  this  fictitious  money,  all  the  coin  of  the  realm 
having  disappeared.  All  the  relations  of  debtor 
and  creditor  were  confounded.  With  one  thou- 
sand crowns  one  might  pay  a  debt  of  eighteen 
thousand  livres  ! 

The  Regent's  mother,  who  once  exulted  in  the 
affluence  of  bank  paper,  now  wrote  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent tone  :  "  I  have  often  wished,"  said  she  in 
her  letters,  "  that  these  bank-notes  were  in  the 
depths  of  the  infernal  regions.  They  have  given 
my  son  more  trouble  than  relief.  Nobody  in 
France  has  a  penny.  *  *  *  My  son  was  once 
popular,  but  since  the  arrival  of  this  cursed  Law, 
he  is  hated  more  and  more.  Not  a  week  passes, 
without  my  receiving  letters  filled  with  frightful 
threats,  and  speaking  of  him  as  a  tyrant.  1  have 
just  received  one  threatening  him  with  poison. 
When  I  showed  it  to  him,  he  did  nothing  but 
laugh." 

In  the  meantime,  Law  was  dismayed  by  the  in- 
creasing troubles,  and  terrified  at  the  tempest  he 
had  raised.  He  was  not  a  man  of  real  courage  ; 
and  fearing  for  his  personal  safety,  from  popular 
tumult,  or  the  despair  of  ruined  individuals,  he 
again  took  refuge  in  the  palace  of  the  Regent. 
The  latter,  as  usual,  amused  himself  with  his  ter- 
rors, and  turned  every  new  disaster  into  a  jest  ; 
but  he  too  began  to  think  of  his  own  security. 

In  pursuing  the  schemes  of  Law,  he  had  no 
doubt  calculated  to  carry  through  his  term  of  gov- 
ernment with  ease  and  splendor  ;  and  to  enrich 
himself,  his  connexions,  and  his  favorites  ;  and 
had  hoped  that  the  catastrophe  of  the  system 
would  not  take  place  until  after  the  expiration  of 
the  regency. 

He  now  saw  his  mistake  ;  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble much  longer  to  prevent  an  explosion  ;  and 
he  determined  at  once  to  get  Law  out  of  the  way, 
and  then  to  charge  him  with  the  whole  tissue  of 
delusions  of  this  paper  alchemy.  He  accordingly 
took  occasion  of  the  recall  of  parliament  in  De- 
cember, 1720,  to  suggest  to  Law  the  policy  of  his 
avoiding  an  encounter  with  that  hostile  and  ex- 
asperated body.  Law  needed  no  urging  to  the 
measure.  His  only  desire  was  to  escape  from 
Paris  and  its  tempestuous  populace.  Two  days 
before  the  return  of  parliament  he  took  his  sud- 
den and  secret  departure.  He  travelled  in  a  chaise 
bearing  the  arms  of  the  Regent,  and  was  escorted 
by  a  kind  of  safeguard  of  servants,  in  the  duke's 
livery.  His  first  place  of  refuge  was  an  estate  of 
the  Regent's,  about  six  leagues  from  Paris,  from 
whence  he  pushed  forward  to  Bruxelles. 

As  soon  as  Law  was  fairly  out  of  the  way,  the 
Duke  of  Or'eans  summoned  a  council  of  the  re- 
gency,and  informed  them  that  they  were  assembled 
to  deliberate  on  the  state  of  the  finances,  and  the 
affairs  of  the  Indian  Company.  Accordingly  La 
Houssaye,  Comptroller  General,  rendered  a  per- 
fectly clear  statement,  by  which  it  appeared  that 
there  were  bank  bills  in  circulation  to  the  amount 
of  two  milliards,  seven  hundred  millions  of  livres, 
without  any  evidence  that  this  enormous  sum  had 


been  emitted  in  virtue  of  any  ordinance  from  the 
general  assembly  of  the  India  Company,  which 
alone  had  the  right  to  authorize  such  emissions. 

The  council  was  astonished  at  this  disclosure, 
and  looked  to  the  Regent  for  explanation.  Push' 
ed  to  the  extreme,  the  Regent  avowed  that  Lav) 
had  emitted  bills  to  the  amount  of  twelve  hundred 
millions  beyond  what  had  been  fixed  by  ordi- 
nances, and  in  contradiction  to  express  prohibi- 
tions ;  that  the  thing  being  done,  he,  the  Regent, 
had  legalized  or  rather  covered  the  transaction, 
by  decrees  ordering  such  emissions,  which  de- 
crees he  had  antedated. 

A  stormy  scene  ensued  between  the  Regent  and 
the  Duke  de  Bourbon,  little  to  the  credit  of  either, 
both  having  been  deeply  implicated  in  the  caba- 
listic operations  of  the  system.  In  fact,  the  sev- 
eral members  of  the  council  had  been  among  the 
most  venal  "  beneficiaries"  of  the  scheme,  and 
had  interests  at  stake  which  they  were  anxious  to 
secure.  From  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  others  were  more  to 
blame  than  Law,  for  the  disastrous  effects  of  his 
financial  projects.  His  bank,  had  it  been  con- 
fined to  its  original  limits,  and  left  to  the  control 
of  its  own  internal  regulations,  might  have  gone 
on  prosperously,  and  been  of  great  benefit  to  the 
nation.  It  was  an  institution  fitted  for  a  free 
country  ;  but  unfortunately  it  was  subjected  to 
the  control  of  a  despotic  government,  that  could, 
at  its  pleasure,  alter  the  value  of  the  specie  within 
its  vaults,  and  compel  the  most  extravagant  ex- 
pansions of  its  paper  circulation.  The  vital  prin- 
ciple of  a  bank  is  security  in  the  regularity  of  its 
operations,  and  the  immediate  convertibility  of 
its  paper  into  coin  ;  and  what  confidence  could 
be  reposed  in  an  institution  or  its  paper  promises, 
when  the  sovereign  could  at  any  moment  centuple 
those  promises  in  the  market,  and  seize  upon  all 
the  money  in  the  bank  ?  The  compulsory  meas- 
ures used,  likewise,  to  force  bank-notes  into  cur- 
rency, against  the  judgment  of  the  public,  was 
fatal  to  the  system  ;  for  credit  must  be  free  and 
uncontrolled  as  the  common  air.  The  Regent 
was  the  evil  spirit  of  the  system,  that  forced  Law 
on  to  an  expansion  of  his  paper  currency  far  be- 
yond what  he  had  ever  dreamed  of.  He  it  was 
that  in  a  manner  compelled  the  unlucky  projector 
to  devise  all  kinds  of  collateral  companies  and 
monopolies,  by  which  to  raise  funds  to  meet  the 
constantly  and  enormously  increasing  emissions  of 
shares  and  notes.  Law  was  but  like  a  poor  con- 
juror in  the  hands  of  a  potent  spirit  that  he  has 
evoked,  and  that  obliges  him  to  go  on,  desperate- 
ly and  ruinously,  with  his  conjurations.  He  only 
thought  at  the  outset  to  raise  the  wind,  but  the 
Regent  compelled  him  to  raise  the  whirlwind. 

The  investigation  of  the  affairs  of  the  Company 
by  the  council,  resulted  in  nothing  beneficial  to 
the  public.  The  princes  and  nobles  who  had  en- 
riched themselves  by  all  kinds  of  juggles  and  ex- 
tortions, escaped  unpunished,  and  retained  the 
greater  part  of  their  spoils.  Many  of  the  "  sud- 
denly rich,"  who  had  risen  from  obscurity  to  a 
giddy  height  of  imaginary  prosperity,  and  had  in- 
dulged in  all  kinds  of  vulgar  and  ridiculous  ex- 
cesses, awoke  as  out  of  a  dream,  in  their  original 
poverty,  now  made  more  galling  and  humiliating 
by  their  transient  elevation. 

The  weight  of  the  evil,  however,  fell  on  more 
valuable  classes  of  society  ;  honest  tradesmen 
and  artisans,  who  had  been  seduced  away  from 
the  safe  pursuits  of  industry,  to  the  specious 
chances  of  speculation.  Thousands  of  meritor- 
ious families  also,  once  opulent,  had  been  reduced 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


to  indigence,  by  a  too  great  confidence  in  govern- 
ment. There  was  a  general  derangement  in  the 
finances,  that  long  exerted  a  baneful  influence 
over  the  national  prosperity  ;  but  the  most  disas- 
trous effects  of  the  system  were  upon  the  morals 
and  manners  of  the  nation.  The  faith  of  engage- 
ments, the  sanctity  of  promises  in  affairs  of  busi- 
ness, were  at  an  end.  Every  expedient  to  grasp 
present  profit,  or  to  evade  present  difficulty,  was 
tolerated.  While  such  deplorable  laxity  of  prin- 
ciple was  generated  in  the  busy  classes,  the  chiv- 
alry of  France  had  soiled  their  pennons  ;  and 
honor  and  glory,  so  long  the  idols  of  the  Gallic 
nobility,  had  been  tumbled  to  the  earth,  and  tram- 
pled in  the  dirt  of  the  stock-market. 

As  to  Lav/,  the  originator  of  the  system,  he  ap- 
pears eventually  to  have  profited  but  little  by  his 
schemes.  "  He  was  a  quack  "  says  Voltaire,  "  to 
whom  the  state  was  given  to  be  cured,  but  who 
poisoned  it  with  his  drugs,  and  who  poisoned  him- 
self." The  effects  which  he  left  behind  in  France, 
were  sold  at  a  low  price,  and  the  proceeds  dissi- 
pated. His  landed  estates  were  confiscated.  He 
carried  away  with  him  barely  enough  to  maintain 
himself,  his  wife,  and  daughter,  with  decency. 
The  chief  relique  of  his  immense  fortune  was  a 
great  diamond,  which  he  was  often  obliged  to 
pawn.  He  was  in  England  in  1721,  and  was 
presented  to  George  the  First.  He  returned  short- 
ly afterward  to  the  continent  ;  shifting  about  from 
place  to  place,  and  died  in  Venice,  in  1/29.  His 
wife  and  daughter,  accustomed  to  live  with  the 
prodigality  of  princesses,  could  not  conform  to 
their  altered  fortunes,  but  dissipated  the  scanty 
means  left  to  them,  and  sank  into  abject  poverty. 
"  I  saw  his  wife,"  says  Voltaire,  "  at  Bruxelles, 
as  much  humiliated  as  she  had  been  haughty  and 
triumphant  in  Paris."  An  elder  brother  of  Law 
remained  in  France,  and  was  protected  by  the 
Duchess  of  Bourbon.  His  descendants  have  ac- 
quitted themselves  honorably,  in  various  public 
employments  ;  and  one  of  them  is  the  Marquis 
Lauriston,  some  time  Lieutenant  General  and 
Peer  of  France. 


DON  JUAN: 

A   SPECTRAL    RESEARCH. 

"  I  have  heard  of  spirits  walking  with  aerial  bodies, 
and  have  been  wondered  at  by  others  ;  but  I  must 
only  wonder  at  myself,  for  if  they  be  not  mad,  I'me 
come  to  my  own  buriall." 

SHIRLEY'S  "  WITTY  FAIRIE  ONE." 

EVERYBODY  has  heard  of  the  fate  of  Don  Juan, 
the  famous  libertine  of  Seville,  who  for  his  sins 
against  the  fair  sex  and  other  minor  peccadilloes 
was  hurried  away  to  the  infernal  regions.  His 
story  has  been  illustrated  in  play,  in  pantomime, 
and  farce,  on  every  stage  in  Christendom  ;  until  at 
length  it  has  been  rendered  the  theme  of  the 
operas,  and  embalmed  to  endless  duration  in  the 
glorious  music  of  Mozart.  I  well  recollect  the 
effect  of  this  story  upon  my  feelings  in  my  boyish 
days,  though  represented  in  grotesque  panto- 
mime ;  the  awe  with  which  I  contemplated  the 
monumental  statue  on  horseback  of  the  murdered 
commander,  gleaming  by  pale  moonlight  in  the 
convent  cemetery  ;  how  my  heart  quaked  as  he 
bowed  his  marble  head,  and  accepted  the  impious 
invitation  of  Don  Juan  :  how  each  foot-fall  of  the 
statue  smote  upon  my  heart,  as  I  heard  it  ap- 


proach, step  by  step  through  the  echoing  corridor, 
and  beheld  it  enter,  and  advance,  a  moving  figure 
of  stone,  to  the  supper  table  !  But  then  the  con- 
vivial scene  in  the  charnel-house,  where  Don  Juan 
returned  the  visit  of  the  statue  ;  was  offered  a  ban- 
quet of  skulls  and  bones,  and  on  refusing  to  par- 
take, was  hurled  into  a  yawning  gulf,  under  a 
tremendous  shower  of  fire  !  These  were  accumu- 
lated horrors  enough  to  shake  the  nerves  of  the 
most  pantomime-loving  school-boy.  Many  have 
supposed  the  story  of  Don  Juan  a  mere  fable.  I 
myself  thought  so  once  ;  but  "  seeing  is  believ- 
ing." I  have  since  beheld  the  very  scene  where 
it  took  place,  and  now  to  indulge  any  doubt  on 
the  subject  would  be  preposterous. 

I  was  one  night  perambulating  the  streets  of 
Seville,  in  company  with  a  Spanish  friend,  a  curi- 
ous investigator  of  the- popular  traditions  and 
other  good-for-nothing  lore  of  the  city,  and  who 
was  kind  enough  to  imagine  he  had  met,  in  me, 
with  a  congenial  spirit.  In  the  course  of  our 
rambles  we  were  passing  by  a  heavy,  dark  gate- 
way, opening  into  the  court-yard  of  a  convent, 
when  he  laid  his  hand  upon  my  arm  :  "Stop  !" 
said  he,  "  this  is  the  convent  of  San  Francisco  ; 
there  is  a  story  connected  with  it,  which  I  am  sure 
must  be  known  to  you.  You  cannot  but  have 
heard  of  Don  Juan  and  the  marble  statue." 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  I,  "  it  has  been  familiar 
to  me  from  childhood." 

"  Well,  then,  it  was  in  the  cemetery  of  this  very 
convent  that  the  events  took  place." 

"  Why,  you  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  story  is 
founded  on  fact  ?" 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is.  The  circumstances  of  the 
case  are  said  to  have  occurred  during  the  reign  of 
Alfonso  XI.  Don  Juan  was  of  the  noble  family  of 
Tenorio,  one  of  the  most  illustrious  houses  of  An- 
dalusia. His  father,  Don  Diego  Tenorio,  was  a 
favorite  of  the  king,  and  his  family  ranked  among 
the  deintecuatros,  or  magistrates,  of  the  city. 
Presuming  on  his  high  descent  and  powerful  con- 
nections. Don  Juan  set  no  bounds  to  his  excesses  : 
no  female,  high  or  low,  was  sacred  from  his  pur- 
suit :  and  he  soon  became  the  scandal  of  Seville. 
One  of  his  most  daring  outrages  was,  to  penetrate 
by  night  into  the  palace  of  Don  Gonzalo  de  Ulloa, 
commander  of  the  order  of  Calatrava,  and  attempt 
to  carry  off  his  daughter.  The  household  was 
alarmed  ;  a  scuffle  in  the  dark  took  place  ;  Don 
Juan  escaped,  but  the  unfortunate  commander 
was  found  weltering  in  his  blood,  and  expired 
without  being  able  to  name  his  murderer.  Sus- 
picions attached  to  Don  Juan  ;  he  did  not  stop  to 
meet  the  investigations  of  justice,  and  the  ven- 
geance of  the  powerful  family  ot  Ulloa,  but  fled 
from  Seville,  and  took  refuge  with  his  uncle,  Don 
Pedro  Tenorio,  at  that  time  ambassador  at  the 
court  of  Naples.  Here  he  remained  until  the 
agitation  occasioned  by  the  murder  of  Don  Gon- 
zalo had  time  to  subside  ;  and  the  scandal  which 
the  affair  might  cause  to  both  the  families  of  Ulloa 
and  Tenorio  had  induced  them  to  hush  it  up. 
Don  Juan,  however,  continued  his  libertine  career 
at  Naples,  until  at  length  his  excesses  forfeited  the 
protection  of  his  uncle,  the  ambassador,  and 
obliged  him  again  to  flee.  He  had  made  his  way 
back  to  Seville,  trusting  that  his  past  misdeeds 
were  forgotten,  or  rather  trusting  to  his  dare-devil 
spirit  and  the  power  of  his  family,  to  carry  him 
through  all  difficulties. 

"  It  was  shortly  after  his  return,  and  while  in 
the  height  of  his  arrogance,  that  on  visiting  this 
very  convent  of  Francisco,  he  beheld  on  a  monu- 
ment the  equestrian  statue  of  the  murdered  com- 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


397 


mander,  who  had  been  buried  within  the  walls  of 
this  sacred  edifice,  where  the  family  of  Ulloa  had 
a  chapel.  It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Don  Juan, 
in  a  moment  of  impious  levity,  invited  the  statue 
to  the  banquet,  the  awful  catastrophe  of  which  has 
given  such  celebrity  to  his  story." 

"  And  pray  how  much  of  this  story,"  said  I, 
"  is  believed  in  Seville  ?" 

"  The  whole  of  it  by  the  populace  ;  with  whom 
it  has  been  a  favorite  tradition  since  time  im- 
memorial, and  who  crowd  to  the  theatres  to  see 
it  represented  in  dramas  written  long  since  by 
Tyrso  de  Molina,  and  another  of  our  popular 
writers.  Many  in  our  higher  ranks  also,  accus- 
tomed from  childhood  to  this  story,  would  feel 
somewhat  indignant  at  hearing  it  treated  with 
contempt.  An  attempt  has  been  made  to  explain 
the  whole,  by  asserting  that,  to  put  an  end  to  the 
extravagancies  of  Don  Juan,  and  to  pacify  the 
family  of  Ulloa,  without  exposing  the  delinquent 
to  the  degrading  penalties  of  justice,  he  was  de- 
coyed into  this  convent  under  a  false  pretext,  and 
either  plunged  into  a  perpetual  dungeon,  or  pri- 
vately hurried  out  of  existence  ;  while  the  story  of 
the  statue  was  circulated  by  the  monks,  to  ac- 
count for  his  sudden  disappearance.  The  popu- 
lace, however,  are  not  to  be  cajoled  out  of  a  ghost 
story  by  any  of  these  plausible  explanations  ;  and 
the  marble  statue  still  strides  the  stage,  and  Don 
Juan  is  still  plunged  into  the  infernal  regions,  as 
an  awful  warning  to  all  rake-helly  youngsters,  in 
like  case  offending." 

While  my  companion  was  relating  these  anec- 
dotes, we  had  entered  the  gate-way,  traversed  the 
exterior  court-yard  of  the  convent,  and  made  our 
way  into  a  great  interior  court  ;  partly  surround- 
ed by  cloisters  and  dormitories,  partly  by  chapels, 
and  having  a  large  fountain  in  the  centre.  The 
pile  had  evidently  once  been  extensive  and  mag- 
nificent ;  but  it  was  for  the  greater  part  in  ruins. 
By  the  light  of  the  stars,  and  of  twinkling  lamps 
placed  here  and  there  in  the  chapels  and  corri- 
dors, I  could  see  that  many  of  the  columns  and 
arches  were  broken  ;  the  walls  were  rent  and 
riven  ;  while  burned  beams  and  rafters  showed 
the  destructive  effects  of  fire.  The  whole  place 
had  a  desolate  air  ;  the  night  breeze  rustled 
through  grass  and  weeds  flaunting  out  of  the 
crevices  of  the  walls,  or  from  the  shattered 
columns  ;  the  bat  flitted  about  the  vaulted  pas- 
sages, and  the  owl  hooted  from  the  ruined  belfry. 
Never  was  any  scene  more  completely  fitted  for  a 
ghost  story. 

While  I  was  indulging  in  picturings  of  the 
fancy,  proper  to  such  a  place,  the  deep  chaunt  of 
the  monks  from  the  convent  church  came  swelling 
upon  the  ear.  "It  is  the  vesper  service,"  said 
my  companion  ;  "follow  me." 

Leading  the  way  across  the  court  of  the  clois- 
ters, and  through  one  or  two  ruined  passages,  he 
reached  the  distant  portal  of  the  church,  and 
pushing  open  a  wicket,  cut  in  the  folding  doors, 
we  found  ourselves  in  the  deep  arched  vestibule 
of  the  sacred  edifice.  To  our  left  was  the  choir, 
forming  one  end  of  the  church,  and  having  a  low 
vaulted  ceiling,  which  gave  it  the  look  of  a  cavern. 
About  this  were  ranged  the  monks,  seated  on 
stools,  and  chauntingfrom  immense  books  placed 
on  music-stands,  and  having  the  notes  scored 
in  such  gigantic  characters  as  to  be  legible 
from  every  part  of  the  choir.  A  few  lights  on 
these  music-stands  dimly  illumined  the  choir, 
gleamed  on  the  shaven  heads  of  the  monks,  and 
threw  their  shadows  on  the  walls.  They  were 
gross,  blue-bearded,  bullet-headed  men,  with  bass 


voices,  of  deep  metallic  tone,  that  reverberated  out' 
of  the  cavernous  choir. 

To  our  right  extended  the  great  body  of  the 
church.  It  was  spacious  and  lofty  ;  some  of  the 
side  chapels  had  gilded  grates, and  were  decorated 
with  images  and  paintings,  representing  the 
sufferings  of  our  Saviour.  Aloft  was  a  great 
painting  by  Murillo,  but  too  much  in  the  dark  to 
be  distinguished.  The  gloom  of  the  whole  church 
was  but  faintly  relieved  by  the  reflected  light  from 
the  choir,  and  the  glimmering  here  and  there  of  a 
votive  lamp  before  the  shrine  of  a  saint. 

As  my  eye  roamed  about  the  shadowy  pile,  it 
was  struck  with  the  dimly  seen  figure  of  a  man  on 
horseback,  near  a  distant  altar.  I  touched  my 
companion,  and  pointed  to  it :  "  The  spectre 
statue  !"  said  I. 

"  No,"  replied  he  ;  "  it  is  the  statue  of  the 
blessed  St.  lago  ;  the  statue  of  the  commander 
was  in  the  cemetery  of  the  convent,  and  was  de- 
stroyed at  the  time  of  the  conflagration.  But," 
added  he,  "  as  I  see  you  take  a  proper  interest  in 
these  kind  of  stories,  come  with  me  to  the  other 
end  of  the  church,  where  our  whisperings  will  not 
disturb  these  holy  fathers  at  their  devotions,  and  I 
will  tell  you  another  story  that  has  been  current 
for  some  generations  in  our  city,  by  which  you 
will  find  that  Don  Juan  is  not  the  only  libertine 
that  has  been  the  object  of  supernatural  castiga- 
tion  in  Seville." 

I  accordingly  followed  him  with  noiseless  tread 
to  the  further  part  of  the  church,  where  we  took 
our  seats  on  the  steps  of  an  altar,  opposite  to  the 
suspicious-looking  figure  on  horseback,  and 
there,  in  a  low,  mysterious  voice,  he  related  to  me 
the  following  narration  : 

"  There  was  once  in  Seville  a  gay  young  fel- 
low, Don  Manuel  de  Manara  by  name,  who  hav- 
ing come  to  a  great  estate  by  the  death  of  his 
father,  gave  the  reins  to  his  passions,  and  plunged 
into  all  kinds  of  dissipation.  Like  Don  Juan, 
whom  he  seemed  to  have  taken  for  a  model,  he 
became  famous  for  his  enterprises  among  the  fair 
sex,  and  was  the  cause  of  doors  being  barred  and 
windows  grated  with  more  than  usual  strictness. 
All  in  vain.  No  balcony  was  too  high  for  him  to 
scale  ;  no  bolt  nor  bar  was  proof  against  his 
efforts  ;  and  his  very  name  was  a  word  of  terror 
to  all  the  jealous  husbands  and  cautious  fathers  of 
Seville.  His  exploits  extended  to  country  as  well 
as  city  ;  and  in  the  village  dependent  on  his  cas- 
tle, scarce  a  rural  beauty  was  safe  from  his  arts 
and  enterprises. 

"  As  he  was  one  day  ranging  the  streets  of  Se- 
ville, with  several  of  his  dissolute  companions,  he 
beheld  a  procession  about  to  enter  the  gate  of  a 
convent.  In  the  centre  was  a  young  female  ar- 
rayed in  the  dress  of  a  bride  ;  it  was  a  novice, 
who,  having  accomplished  her  year  of  probation, 
was  about  to  take  the  black  veil,  and  consecrate 
herself  to  heaven.  The  companions  of  Don 
Manuel  drew  back,  out  of  respect  to  the  sacred 
pageant  ;  but  he  pressed  forward,  with  his  usual 
impetuosity,  to  gain  a  near  view  of  the  novice. 
He  almost  jostled  her,  in  passing  through  the 
portal  of  the  church,  when,  on  her  turning  round, 
he  beheld  the  countenance  of  a  beautiful  village 
girl,  who  had  been  the  object  of  his  ardent  pursuit, 
but  who  had  been  spirited  secretly  out  of  his  reach 
by  her  relatives.  She  recognized  him  at  the  same 
moment,  and  fainted  ;  but  was  borne  within  the 
grate  of  the  chapel.  It  was  supposed  the  agita- 
tion of  the  ceremony  and  the  heat  of  the  throng 
had  overcome  her.  After  some  time,  the  curtain 
which  hung  within  the  grate  was  drawn  up:  there 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


stood  the  novice,  pale  and  trembling,  surrounded 
by  the  abbess  and  the  nuns.  The  ceremony  pro- 
ceeded ;  the  crown  of  flowers  was  taken  from  her 
head  ;  she  was  shorn  of  her  silken  tresses,  re- 
ceived the  black  veil,  and  went  passively  through 
the  remainder  of:  the  ceremony. 

"  Don  Manuel  de  Manara,  on  the  contrary,  was 
roused  to  fury  at  the  sight  of  this  sacrifice.  His 
passion,  which  had  almost  faded  away  in  the  ab- 
sence of  the  object,  now  glowed  with  tenfold 
ardor,  being  inflamed  by  the  difficulties  placed  in 
his  way,  and  piqued  by  the  measures  which  had 
been  taken  to  defeat  him.  Never  had  the  object 
of  his  pursuit  appeared  so  lovely  and  desirable  as 
when  within  the  grate  of  the  convent  ;  and  he 
swore  to  have  her,  in  defiance  of  heaven  and 
earth.  By  dint  of  bribing  a  female  servant  of 
the  convent  he  contrived  to  convey  letters  to  her, 
pleading  his  passion  in  the  most  eloquent  and  se- 
ductive terms.  How  successful  they  were  is  only 
matter  of  conjecture  ;  certain  it  is,  he  undertook 
one  night  to  scale  the  garden  wall  of  the  convent, 
either  to  carry  off  the  nun  or  gain  admission  to 
her  cell.  Just  as  he  was  mounting  the  wall  he 
was  suddenly  plucked  back,  and  a  stranger, 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  stood  before  him. 

'  '  Rash  man,  forbear  !  '  cried  he  :  'is  it  not 
enough  to  have  violated  all  human  ties  ?  Wouldst 
thou  steal  a  bride  from  heaven  ! ' 

"  The  sword  of  Don  Manuel  had  been  drawn 
on  the  instant,  and  furious  at  this  interruption,  he 
passed  it  through  the  body  of  the  stranger,  who 
fell  dead  at  his  feet.  Hearing  approaching  foot- 
steps, he  fled  the  fatal  spot,  and  mounting  his 
horse,  which  was  at  hand,  retreated  to  his  estate 
in  the  country,  at  no  great  distance  from  Seville. 
Here  he  remained  throughout  the  next  day,  full  of 
horror  and  remorse  ;  dreading  lest  he  should  be 
known  as  the  murderer  of  the  deceased,  and  fear- 
ing each  moment  the  arrival  of  the  officers  of  jus- 
tice. 

"  The  day  passed,  however,  without  molesta- 
tion ;  and,  as  the  evening  approached,  unable  any 
longer  to  endure  this  state  of  uncertainty  and  ap- 
prehension, he  ventured  back  to  Seville.  Irre- 
sistibly his  footsteps  took  the  direction  of  the  con- 
vent ;  but  he  paused  and  hovered  at  a  distance 
from  the  scene  of  blood.  Several  persons  were 
gathered  round  the  place,  one  of  whom  was  busy- 
nailing  something  against  the  convent  wall. 
After  a  while  they  dispersed,  and  one  passed  near 
to  Don  Manuel.  The  latter  addressed  him,  with 
a  hesitating  voice. 

'  '  Sefior,'  said  he,  '  may  I  ask  the  reason  of 
yonder  throng  ?  ' 

"  '  A  cavalier,'  replied  the  other,  '  has  been 
murdered.' 

"  '  Murdered  ! '  echoed  Don  Manuel  ;  '  and  can 
you  tell  me  his  name  ?  ' 

"  '  Don  Manuel  de  Manara,'  replied  the 
stranger,  and  passed  on. 

"  Don  Manuel  was  startled  at  this  mention  of 
his  own  name  ;  especially  when  applied  to  the 
murdered  man.  He  ventured,  when  it  was  en- 
tirely deserted,  to  approach  the  fatal  spot.  A 
small  cross  had  been  nailed  against  the  wall,  as  is 
customary  in  Spain,  to  mark  the  place  where  a 
murder  has  been  committed  ;  and  just  below  it, 
he  read,  by  the  twinkling  light  of  a  lamp  :  '  Here 
was  murdered  Don  Manuel  de  Manara.  Pray  to 
God  for  his  soul  !  ' 

"  Still  more  confounded  and  perplexed  by  this 
inscription,  he  wandered  about  the  streets  until 
the  night  was  far  advanced,  and  all  was  still  and 
lonely.  As  he  entered  the  principal  square,  the 


light  of  torches  suddenly  broke  on  him,  and  he 
beheld  a  grand  funeral  procession  moving  across 
it.  There  was  a  great  train  of  priests,  and  many 
persons  of  dignified  appearance,  in  ancient  Span- 
ish dresses,  attending  as  mourners,  none  of  whcm 
he  knew.  Accosting  a  servant  who  followed  in 
the  train,  he  demanded  the  name  of  the  defunct. 

"  '  Don  Manuel  de  Manara,'  was  the  reply  ;  and 
it  went  cold  to  his  heart.  He  looked,  and  indeed 
beheld  the  armorial  bearings  of  his  family  em- 
blazoned on  the  funeral  escutcheons.  Yet  not  one 
of  his  family  was  to  be  seen  among  the  mourners. 
The  mystery  was  more  and  more  incomprehensi- 
ble. 

"  He  followed  the  procession  as  it  moved  on  to 
the  cathedral.  The  bier  was  deposited  belore  the 
high  altar  ;  the  funeral  service  was  commenced, 
and  the  grand  organ  began  to  peal  through  the 
vaulted  aisles. 

"  Again  the  youth  ventured  to  question  this 
awful  pageant.  '  Father,'  said  he,  with  trembling 
voice,  to  one  of  the  priests,  '  who  is  this  you  are 
about  to  inter  ?  ' 

"  '  Don  Manuel  de  Manara  !  '   replied  the  priest. 

"  '  Father,!  cried  Don  Manuel,  impatiently, 
'  you  are  deceived.  This  is  some  imposture. 
Know  that  Don  Manuel  de  Manara  is  alive  and 
well,  and  now  stands  before  you.  /  am  Don 
Manuel  de  Manara  !  ' 

"  '  Avaunt,  rash  youth  !  '  cried  the  priest  ; 
'  know  that  Don  Manuel  de  Manara  is  dead  !— is 
dead  ! — is  dead  ! — and  we  are  all  souls  from  pur- 
gatory, his  deceased  relatives  and  ancestors,  and 
others  that  have  been  aided  by  masses  of  his 
family,  who  are  permitted  to  come  here  and  pray 
for  the  repose  of  his  soul  ! ' 

"  Don  Manuel  cast  round  a  fearful  glance  upon 
the  assemblage,  in  antiquated  Spanish  garbs,  and 
recognized  in  their  pale  and  ghastly  countenances 
the  portraits  of  many  an  ancestor  that  hung  in  the 
family  picture-gallery.  He  now  lost  all  self-com- 
mand, rushed  up  to  the  bier,  and  beheld  the 
counterpart  of  himself,  but  in  the  fixed  and  livid 
lineaments  of  death.  Just  at  that  moment  the 
whole  choir  burst  forth  with  a  '  Requiescat  in 
pace,'  that  shook  the  vaults  of  the  cathedral. 
Don  Manuel  sank  senseless  on  the  pavement. 
He  was  found  there  early  the  next  morning  by  the 
sacristan,  and  conveyed  to  his  home.  When 
sufficiently  recovered,  he  sent  for  a  friar  and  made 
a  full  confession  of  all  that  had  happened. 

"  '  My  son,'  said  the  friar,  '  all  this  is  a  miracle 
and  a  mystery,  intended  for  thy  conversion  and 
salvation.  The  corpse  thou  hast  seen  was  a  token 
that  thou  haclst  died  to  sin  and  the  world  ;  take 
warning  by  it,  and  henceforth  live  to  righteous- 
ness and  heaven  ! ' 

"  Don  Manuel  did  take  warning  by  it.  Guided 
by  the  counsels  of  the  worthy  friar,  he  disposed 
of  all  his  temporal  affairs  ;  dedicated  the  greater 
part  of  his  wealth  to  pious  uses,  especially  to  the 
performance  of  masses  for  souls  in  purgatory  ; 
and  finally,  entering  a  convent  became  one  of  the 
most  zealous  and  exemplary  monks  in  Seville." 


While  my  companion  was  relating  this  story, 
my  eyes  wandered,  from  time  to  time,  about  the 
dusky  church.  Methought  the  burly  countenances 
of  the  monks  in  their  distant  choir  assumed  a  pallid, 
ghastly  hue,  and  their  deep  metallic  voices  had  a 
sepulchral  sound.  By  the  time  the  story  was 
ended,  they  had  ended  their  chant ;  and,  extin- 
guishing their  lights,  glided  one  by  one,  like 
shadows,  through  a  small  door  in  the  side  of  the 
choir.  A  deeper  gloom  prevailed  over  the 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


399 


church  ;  the  figure  opposite  me  on  horseback 
grew  more  and  more  spectral  ;  and  I  almost  ex- 
pected to  see  it  bow  its  head. 

"  It  is  time  to  be  off,"  said  my  companion, 
"  unless  we  intend  to  sup  with  the  statue." 

"  I  have  no  relish  for  such  fare  or  such  com- 
pany," replied  I  ;  and,  following  my  companion, 
we  groped  our  way  through  the  mouldering  clois- 
ters. As  we  passed  by  the  ruined  cemetery, 
keeping  up  a  casual  conversation,  by  way  of  dis- 
pelling the  loneliness  of  the  scene,  I  called  to 
mind  the  words  of  the  poet : 

The  tombs 


And  monumental  caves  of  death  look  cold, 
And  shoot  a  chillness  to  my  trembling  heart ! 
Give  me  thy  hand,  and  let  me  hear  thy  voice  ; 
Nay,  speak — and  let  me  hear  thy  voice  ; 
My  own  affrights  me  with  its  echoes. 

There  wanted  nothing  but  the  marble  statue  of 
the  commander  striding  along  the  echoing  clois- 
ters to  complete  the  haunted  scene. 

Since  that  time  I  never  fail  to  attend  the  theatre 
whenever  the  story  of  Don  Juan  is  represented, 
whether  in  pantomime  or  opera.  In  the  sepul- 
chral scene,  I  feel  myself  quite  at  home  ;  and 
when  the  statue  makes  his  appearance,  I  greet 
him  as  an  old  acquaintance.  When  the  audience 
applaud,  I  look  round  upon  them  with  a  degree 
of  compassion.  "  Poor  souls  !"  I  say  to  myself, 
"  they  think  they  are  pleased  ;  they  think  they  en- 
joy this  piece,  and  yet  they  consider  the  whole  as 
a  fiction  !  How  much  more  would  they  enjoy  it, 
if  like  me  they  knew  it  to  be  true — and  had  seen 
the  very  place .'" 


BROEK: 

r 

OR  THE  DUTCH   PARADISE. 

IT  has  long  been  a  matter  of  discussion  and 
controversy  among  the  pious  and  the  learned,  as 
to  the  situation  of  the  terrestrial  paradise  from 
whence  our  first  parents  were  exiled.  This 
question  has  been  put  to  rest  by  certain  of  the 
faithful  in  Holland,  who  have  decided  in  favor  of 
the  village  of  Broek,  about  six  miles  from  Am- 
sterdam. It  may  not,  they  observe,  correspond 
in  all  respects  to  the  description  of  the  Garden  of 
Eden,  handed  down  from  days  of  yore,  but  it 
comes  nearer  to  their  ideas  of  a  perfect  paradise 
than  any  other  place  on  earth. 

This  eulogium  induced  me  to  make  some  in- 
quiries as  to  this  favored  spot  in  the  course  of  a 
sojourn  at  the  city  of  Amsterdam,  and  the  infor- 
mation I  procured  fully  justified  the  enthusiastic 
praises  I  had  heard.  The  village  of  Broek  is  situ- 
ated in  Waterland,  in  the  midst  of  the  greenest 
and  richest  pastures  of  Holland,  I  may  say,  of 
Europe.  These  pastures  are  the  source  of  its 
wealth,  for  it  is  famous  for  its  dairies,  and  for 
those  oval  cheeses  which  regale  and  perfume  the 
whole  civilized  world.  The  population  consists 
of  about  six  hundred  persons,  comprising  several 
families  which  have  inhabited  the  place  since  time 
immemorial,  and  have  waxed  rich  on  the  products 
of  their  meadows.  They  keep  all  their  wealth 
among  themselves,  intermarrying,  and  keeping 
all  strangers  at  a  wary  distance.  They  are  a 
"  hard  money"  people,  and  remarkable  for  turn 
ing  the  penny  the  right  way.  It  is  said  to  have 
been  an  old  rule,  established  by  one  of  the  primi- 
tive financiers  and  legislators  of  Broek,  that  no 


one  should  leave  the  village  with  more  than  six 
guilders  in  his  pocket,  or  return  with  less  than 
ten  ;  a  shrewd  regulation,  well  worthy  the  atten- 
tion of  modern  political  economists,  who  are  so 
anxious  to  fix  the  balance  of  trade. 

What,  however,  renders  Broek  so  perfect  an 
elysium  in  the  eyes  of  all  true  Hollanders,  is  the 
matchless  height  to  which  the  spirit  of  cleanliness 
is  carried  there.  It  amounts  almost  to  a  religion 
among  the  inhabitants,  who  pass  the  greater  part 
of  their  time  rubbing  and  scrubbing,  and  painting 
and  varnishing  ;  each  housewife  vies  with  her 
neighbor  in  her  devotion  to  the  scrubbing-brush, 
as  zealous  Catholics  do  in  their  devotion  to  the 
cross  ;  and  it  is  said  a  notable  housewife  of  the 
place  in  days  of  yore  is  held  in  pious  remem- 
brance, and  almost  canonized  as  a  saint,  for  hav- 
ing died  of  pure  exhaustion  and  chagrin  in  an 
ineffectual  attempt  to  scour  a  black  man  white. 

These  particulars  awakened  my  ardent  curios- 
ily  to  see  a  place  which  I  pictured  to  myself  the 
very  fountain-head  of  certain  hereditary  habits 
and  customs  prevalent  among  the  descendants  of 
the  original  Dutch  settlers  of  my  native  State.  I 
accordingly  lost  no  time  in  performing  a  pilgrim- 
age to  Broek. 

Before  I  reached  the  place  I  beheld  symptoms 
of  the  tranquil  character  of  its  inhabitants.  A 
little  clump-built  boat  was  in  full  sail  along  the 
lazy  bosom  of  a  canal,  but  its  sail  consisted  of  the 
blades  of  two  paddles  stood  on  end,  while  the 
navigator  sat  steering  with  a  third  paddle  in  the 
stern,  crouched  down  like  a  toad,  with  a  slouched 
hat  drawn  over  his  eyes.  I  presumed  him  to  be 
some  nautical  lover  on  the  way  to  his  mistress. 
After  proceeding  a  little  farther  I  came  in  sight  of 
the  harbor  or  port  of  destination  of  this  drowsy 
navigator.  This  was  the  Broeken-Meer,  an  artifi- 
cial basin,  or  sheet  of  olive-green  water,  tranquil 
as  a  mill-pond.  On  this  the  village  of  Broek  is 
situated,  and  the  borders  are  laboriously  decorated 
with  flower-beds,  box-trees  clipped  into  all  kinds 
of  ingenious  shapes  and  fancies,  and  little  "  lust" 
houses,  or  pavilions. 

I  alighted  outside  of  the  village,  for  no  horse 
nor  vehicle  is  permitted  to  enter  its  precincts,  lest 
it  should  cause  defilement  of  the  well-scoured 
pavements.  Shaking  the  dust  off  my  feet,  there- 
fore, I  prepared  to  enter,  with  due  reverence  and 
circumspection,  this  sanctum  sanctorum  of  Dutch 
cleanliness.  I  entered  by  a  narrow  street,  paved 
with  yellow  bricks,  laid  edgewise,  and  so  clean 
that  one  might  eat  from  them.  Indeed,  they 
were  actually  worn  deep,  not  by  the  tread  of  feet, 
but  by  the  friction  of  the  scrubbing-brush. 

The  houses  were  built  of  wood,  and  all  appear- 
ed to  have  been  freshly  painted,  of  green,  yellow, 
and  other  bright  colors.  They  were  separated 
from  each  other  by  gardens  and  orchards,  and 
stood  at  some  little  distance  from  the  street,  with 
wide  areas  or  courtyards,  paved  in  mosaic,  with 
variegated  stones,  polished  by  frequent  rubbing. 
The  areas  were  divided  from  the  street  by  cur- 
iously-wrought railings,  or  balustrades,  of  iron, 
surmounted  with  brass  and  copper  balls,  scoured 
into  dazzling  effulgence.  The  very  trunks  ofthe 
trees  in  front  of  the  houses  were  by  the  same 
process  made  to  look  as  if  they  had  been  var- 
nished. The  porches,  doors,  and  window-frames 
of  the  houses  were  of  exotic  woods,  curiously 
carved,  and  polished  like  costly  furniture.  The 
front  doors  are  never  opened,  excepting  on  christ- 
enings, marriages,  or  funerals  ;  on  all  ordinary 
occasions,  visitors  enter  by  the  back  door.  In 
former  times,  persons  when  admitted  had  to  put 


400 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


on  slippers,  but  this  oriental  ceremony  is  no  longer 
insisted  upon. 

A  poor  devil  Frenchman  who  attended  upon  me 
as  cicerone,  boasted  with  some  degree  of  exulta- 
tion, of  a  triumph  of  his  countrymen  over  the 
stern  regulations  of  the  place.  During  the  time 
that  Holland  was  overrun  by  the  armies  of  the 
French  Republic,  a  French  general,  surrounded 
by  his  whole  £tat  major,  who  had  come  from 
Amsterdam  to  view  the  wonders  of  Broek,  ap- 
plied for  admission  at  one  of  these  taboo'd  por- 
tals. The  reply  was,  that  the  owner  never  receiv- 
ed any  one  who  did  not  come  introduced  by  some 
friend.  "  Very  well,"  said  the  general,  "  take 
my  compliments  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  I 
will  return  here  to-morrow  with  a  company  of 
soldiers,  '  pour  parler  raison  avcc  man  ami 
Hollandais .'  '  Terrified  at  the  idea  of  having  a. 
company  of  soldiers  billeted  upon  him,  the  owner 
threw  open  his  house,  entertained  the  general  and 
his  retinue  with  unwonted  hospitality  ;  though  it 
is  said  it  cost  the  family  a  month's  scrubbing  and 
scouring,  to  restore  all  things  to  exact  order,  after 
this  military  invasion.  My  vagabond  informant 
seemed  to  consider  this  one  of  the  greatest  victor- 
ies of  the  republic. 

I  walked  about  the  place  in  mute  wonder  and 
admiration.  A  dead  stillness  prevailed  around, 
like  that  in  the  deserted  streets  of  P/jmpeii.  No 
sign  of  life  was  to  be  seen,  excepting  now  and 
then  a  hand,  and  a  long  pipe,  and  an  occasional 
puff  of  smoke,  out  of  the  window  of  some  "  lust- 
haus"  overhanging  a  miniature  canal  ;  and  on 
approaching  a  little  nearer,  the  periphery  in  pro- 
file of  some  robustious  burgher. 

Among  the  grand  houses  pointed  out  to  me 
were  those  of  Claes  Bakker,  and  Cornelius  Bak- 
ker,  richly  carved  and  gilded,  with  flower  gardens 
and  clipped  shrubberies  ;  and  that  of  the  Great 
Ditmus,  who  my  poor  devil  cicerone  informed 
me,  in  a  whisper,  was  worth  two  millions  ;  all 
these  were  mansions  shut  up  from  the  world,  and 
only  kept  to  be  cleaned.  After  having  been  con- 
ducted from  one  wonder  to  another  of  the  village, 
I  was  ushered  by  my  guide  into  the  grounds  and 
gardens  of  Mynheer  Broekker,  another  mighty 
cheese-manufacturer,  worth  eighty  thousand 
guilders  a  year.  I  had  repeatedly  been  struck 
with  the  similarity  of  all  that  I  had  seen  in  this 
amphibious  little  village,  to  the  buildings  and 
landscapes  on  Chinese  platters  and  tea-pots  ;  but 
here  I  found  the  similarity  complete  ;  for  I  was 
told  that  these  gardens  were  modelled  upon  Van 
Bramm's  description  of  those  of  Yuen  min  Yuen, 
in  China.  Here  were  serpentine  walks,  with  trel- 
lised  borders  ;  winding  canals,  with  fanciful  Chi- 
nese bridges  ;  flower-beds  resembling  huge  bask- 
ets, with  the  flower  of  "  love  lies  bleeding"  tall- 
ing  over  to  the  ground.  But  mostly  had  the  fancy 
of  Mynheer  Broekker  been  displayed  about  a  stag- 
nant little  lake,  on  which  a  corpulent  little  pin- 
nace lay  at  anchor.  On  the  border  was  a  cottage 
within  which  were  a  wooden  man  and  woman 
seated  at  table,  and  a  wooden  dog  beneath,  all 
the  size  of  life  ;  on  pressing  a  spring-,  the  woman 
commenced  spinning,  and  the  dog  barked  furious- 
ly. On  the  lake  were  wooden  swans,  painted  to 
the  life  ;  some  floating,  others  on  the  nest  among 
the  rushes  ;  while  a  wooden  sportsman,  crouched  . 
among  the  bushes,  was  preparing  his  gun  to  take 
deadly  air.  In  another  part  of  the  garden  was  a 
dominie  in  his  clerical  robes,  with  wig,  pipe,  and 
cocked  hat  ;  and  mandarins  with  nodding  heads, 
amid  red  lions,  green  tigers,  and  blue  hares. 
Last  of  all,  the  heathen  deities,  in  wood  and 


plaster,  male  and  female,  naked  and  bare-faced  as 
usual,  and  seeming  to  stare  with  wonder  at  find- 
ing themselves  in  such  strange  company. 

My  shabby  French  guide,  while  he  pointed  out 
all  these  mechanical  marvels  of  the  garden,  was 
anxious  to  let  me  see  that  he  had  too  polite  a 
taste  to  be  pleased  with  them.  At  every  new 
nick-nack  he  would  screw  down  his  mouth,  shrug 
up  his  shoulders,  take  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  ex- 
claim :  "  Ma  foi,  Monsieur,  ces  Hollandais  sont 
forts  pour  ces  be  Uses  Id  .'" 

To  attempt  to  gain  admission  to  any  of  these 
stately  abodes  was  out  of  the  question,  having  no 
company  of  soldiers  to  enforce  a  solicitation.  I 
was  fortunate  enough,  however,  through  the  aid 
of  my  guide,  to  make  my  way  into  the  kitchen  of 
the  illustrious  Ditmus,  and  I  question  whether  the 
parlor  would  have  proved  more  worthy  of  observa- 
tion. The  cook,  a  little  wiry,  hook-nosed  woman, 
worn  thin  by  incessant  action  and  friction,  was 
bustling  about  among  her  kettles  and  saucepans, 
with  the  scullion  at  her  heels,  both  clattering  in 
wooden  shoes,  which  were  as  clean  and  white  as 
the  milk-pails  ;  rows  of  vessels,  of  brass  and  cop- 
per, regiments  of  pewter  dishes,  and  portly  por- 
ringers, gave  resplendent  evidence  of  the  intensity 
of  their  cleanliness  ;  the  very  trammels  and  hang- 
ers in  the  fireplace  were  highly  scoured,  and  the 
burnished  face  of  the  good  Saint  Nicholas  shone 
forth  from  the  iron  plate  of  the  chimney  back. 

Among  the  decorations  of  the  kitchen  was  a 
printed  sheet  of  woodcuts,  representing  the  var- 
ious holiday  customs  of  Holland,  with  explanatory 
rhymes.  Here  I  was  delighted  to  recognize  the 
jollities  of  New  Year's  Day  ;  the  festivities  of 
Paas  and  Pinkster,  and  all  the  other  merry-mak- 
ings handed  down  in  my  native  place  from  the 
earliest  times  of  New  Amsterdam,  and  which  had 
been  such  bright  spots  in  the  year  in  .my  child- 
hood. I  eagerly  made  myself  master  of  this  pre- 
cious document,  for  a  trifling  consideration,  and 
bore  it  off  as  a  memento  of  the  place  ;  though  I 
question  if,  in  so  doing*  I  did  not  carry  off  with 
me  the  whole  current  literature  of  Broek. 

I  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  this  village  is 
the  paradise  of  cows  as  well  as  men  ;  indeed  you 
would  almost  suppose  the  cow  to  be  as  much  an 
object  of  worship  here,  as  the  bull  was  among  the 
ancient  Egyptians  ;  and  well  does  she  merit  it,  for 
she  is  in  fact  the  patroness  of  the  place.  The 
same  scrupulous  cleanliness,  however,  which  per- 
vades everything  else,  is  manifested  in  the  treat- 
ment of  this  venerated  animal.  She  is  not  per- 
mitted to  perambulate  the  place,  but  in  winter, 
when  she  forsakes  the  rich  pasture,  a  well-built 
house  is  provided  for  her,  well  painted,  and  main- 
tained in  the  most  perfect  order.  Her  stall  is  ot 
ample  dimensions  ;  the  floor  is  scrubbed  and  pol- 
ished ;  her  hide  is  daily  curried  and  brushed  and 
sponged  to  her  heart's  content,  and  her  tail  is 
daintily  tucked  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  decorated 
with  a  riband  ! 

On  my  way  back  through  the  village,  1  passed 
the  house  of  the  prediger,  or  preacher  ;  a  very  com- 
fortable mansion,  which  led  me  to  augur  well  of 
the  state  of  religion  in  the  village.  On  inquiry,  I 
was  told  that  for  a  long  time  the  inhabitants  lived 
in  a  great  state  of  indifference  as  to  religious  mat- 
ters ;  it  was  in  vain  that  their  preachers  endeav- 
ored to  arouse  their  thoughts  as  to  a  future  state; 
the  joys  of  heaven,  as  commonly  depicted,  wen 
but  little  to  their  taste.  At  length  a  dominie  ap. 
peared  among  them  who  struck  out  in  a  differen' 
vein.  He  depicted  the  New  Jerusalem  as  a  plao/ 
all  smooth  and  level  ;  with  beautiful  dykes,  anj 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


401 


ditches,  and  canals  ;  and  houses  all  shining  with 
paint  and  varnish,  and  glazed  tiles  ;  and  where 
there  should  never  come  horse,  or  ass,  or  cat,  or 
dog,  or  anything  that  could  make  noise  or  dirt  ; 
but  there  should  be  nothing  but  rubbing  and 
scrubbing,  and  washing  and  painting,  and  gilding 
and  varnishing,  for  ever  and  ever,  amen  !  Since 
that  time,  the  good  housewives  of  Broek  have  all 
turned  their  faces  Zion-ward. 


SKETCHES  IN  PARIS  IN  1825, 

FROM  THE  TRAVELLING  NOTE-BOOK  OF  GEOFFREY 
CRAYON,    GENT. 

A  PARISIAN  hotel  is  a  street  set  on  end,  the 
grand  staircase  forming  the  highway,  and  every 
floor  a  separate  habitation.  Let  me  describe  the 
one  in  which  I  am  lodged,  which  may  serve  as  a 
specimen  of  its  class.  It  is  a  huge  quadrangular 
pile  of  stone,  built  round  a  spacious  paved  court. 
The  ground  floor  is  occupied  by  shops,  maga- 
zines, and  domestic  offices.  Then  comes  the 
entre-sol,  with  low  ceilings,  short  windows,  and 
dwarf  chambers  ;  then  succeed  a  succession  of 
floors,  or  stories,  rising  one  above  the  other,  to 
the  number  of  Mahomet's  heavens.  Each  floor 
is  like  a  distinct  mansion,  complete  in  itself, 
with  ante-chamber,  saloons,  dining  and  sleeping 
rooms,  kitchen  and  other  conveniencies  for  the 
accommodation  of  a  family.  Some  floors  are  di- 
vided into  two  or  more  suites  of  apartments. 
Each  apartment  has  its  main  door  of  entrance, 
opening  upon  the  staircase,  or  landing-places, 
and  locked  like  a  street  door.  Thus  several  fam- 
ilies and  numerous  single  persons  live  under  the 
same  roof,  totally  independent  of  each  other,  and 
may  live  so  for  years  without  holding  more  in- 
tercourse than  is  kept  up  in  other  cities  by  resi- 
dents in  the  same  street. 

Like  the  great  world,  this  little  microcosm  has 
its  gradations  of  rank  and  style  and  importance. 
The  Premier,  or  first  floor,  with  its  grand  saloons, 
lofty  ceilings,  and  splendid  furniture,  is  decidedly 
the  aristocratical  part  of  the  establishment.  The 
second  floor  is  scarcely  less  aristocratical  and 
magnificent  ;  the  other  floors  go  on  lessening  in 
splendor  as  they  gain  in  altitude,  and  end  with 
the  attics,  the  region  of  petty  tailors,  clerks,  and 
sewing  girls.  To  make  the  filling  up  of  the  man- 
sion complete,  every  odd  nook  and  corner  is  fitted 
up  as  &joli  petit  appartement  a  garfon  (a  pretty 
little  bachelor's  apartment),  that  is  to  say,  some 
little  dark  inconvenient  nestling-place  for  a  poor 
devil  of  a  bachelor. 

The  whole  domain  is  shut  up  from  the  street 
by  a  great  porte-cochere,  or  portal,  calculated 
for  the  admission  of  carriages.  This  consists  of 
two  massy  folding-doors,  that  swing  heavily  open 
upon  a  spacious  entrance,  passing  under  the  front 
of  the  edifice  into  the  court-yard.  On  one  side  is 
a  spacious  staircase  leading  to  the  upper  apart- 
ments. Immediately  without  the  portal  is  the 
porter's  lodge,  a  small  room  with  one  or  two  bed- 
rooms adjacent,  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
concierge,  or  porter  and  his  family.  This  is  one 
of  the  most  important  functionaries  of  the  hotel. 
He  is,  in  fact,  the  Cerberus  of  the  establishment, 
and  Yio  one  can  pass  in  or  out  without  his  knowl- 
edge and  consent.  The  porte-cochere  in  general 
is  fastened  by  a  sliding  bolt,  from  which  a  cord 
or  wire  passes  into  the  porter's  lodge.  Whoever 
wishes  to  go  out  must  speak  to  the  porter,  who 


draws  the  bolt.  A  visitor  from  without  gives  a 
single  rap  with  the  massive  knocker  ;  the  bolt  is 
immediately  drawn,  as  if  by  an  invisible  hand  ; 
the  door  stands  ajar,  the  visitor  pushes  it  open, 
and  enters.  A  face  presents  itself  at  the  glass 
door  of  the  porter's  little  chamber  ;  the  stranger 
pronounces  the  name  of  the  person  he  comes  to 
seek.  If  the  person  or  family  is  of  importance, 
occupying  the  first  or  second  floor,  the  porter 
sounds  a  bell  once  or  twice,  to  give  notice  that  a 
visitor  is  at  hand.  The  stranger  in  the  meantime 
ascends  the  great  staircase,  the  highway  common 
to  all,  and  arrives  at  the. outer  door,  equivalent  to 
a  street  door,  of  the  suite  of  rooms  inhabited  by 
his  friends.  Beside  this  hangs  a  bell-cord,  with 
which  he  rings  for  admittance. 

When  the  family  or  person  inquired  for  is  of 
less  importance,  or  lives  in  some  remote  part  of 
the  mansion  less  easy  to  be  apprized,  no  signal  is 
given.  The  applicant  pronounces  the  name  at 
the  porter's  door,  and  is  told,  "  Montez  ait  troi- 
sieme,  au  quatrieme  ;  sounez  d  la  porte  a  droite, 
ou  d  gauche  j  ("Ascend  to  the  third  or  fourth 
story  ;  ring  the  bell  on  the  right  or  left  hand 
door")  as  the  case  may  be. 

The  porter  and  his  wife  act  as  domestics  to  such 
of  the  inmates  of  the  mansion  as  do  not  keep  ser- 
vants ;  making  their  beds,  arranging  their  rooms, 
lighting  their  fires,  and  doing  other  menial  offices, 
for  which  they  receive  a  monthly  stipend.  They 
are  also  in  confidential  intercourse  with  the  ser- 
vants of  the  other  inmates,  and,  having  an  eye  on 
all  the  in-comers  and  out-goers,  are  thus  enabled, 
by  hook  and  by  crook,  to  learn  the  secrets  and 
domestic  history  of  every  member  of  the  little  ter- 
ritory within  the  porte-cochere. 

The  porter's  lodge  is  accordingly  a  great  scene 
of  gossip,  where  all  the  private  affairs  of  this  in- 
terior neighborhood  are  discussed.  The  court- 
yard, also,  is  an  assembling  place  in  the  evenings 
for  the  servants  of  the  different  families,  and  a 
sisterhood  of  sewing  girls  from  the  entre-sols  and 
the  attics,  to  play  at  various  games,  and  dance  to 
the  music  of  their  own  songs,  and  the  echoes 
of  their  feet,  at  which  assemblages  the  porter's 
daughter  takes  the  lead  ;  a  fresh,  pretty,  buxom 
girl,  generally  called  "  La  Petite,"  though  almost 
as  tall  as  a  grenadier.  These  little  evening  gath- 
erings, so  characteristic  of  this  gay  country,  are 
countenanced  by  the  various  families  of  the  man- 
sion, who  often  look  down  from  their  windows 
and  balconies,  on  moonlight  evenings,  and  enjoy 
the  simple  revels  of  their  domestics.  I  must  ob- 
serve, however,  that  the  hotel  I  am  describing  is 
rather  a  quiet,  retired  one,  where  most  of  the  in- 
mates are  permanent  residents  from  year  to  year, 
so  that  there  is  more  of  the  spirit  of  neighbor- 
hood than  in  the  bustling,  fashionable  hotels  in 
the  gay  parts  of  Paris,  which  are  continually 
changing  their  inhabitants. 


MY   FRENCH    NEIGHBOR. 

I  OFTEN  amuse  myself  by  watching  from  my  win- 
dow (which  by  the  bye,  is  tolerably  elevated),  the 
movements  of  the  teeming  little  world  below  me  ; 
and  as  I  am  on  sociable  terms  with  the  porter  and 
his  wife,  I  gather  from  them,  as  they  light  my 
fire,  or  serve  my  breakfast,  anecdotes  of  all  my 
fellow  lodgers.  I  have  been  somewhat  curious  in 
studying  a  little  antique  Frenchman,  who  occu- 
pies one  of  th'e/0/zV  chambres  d  gar f on  already 
mentioned.  He  is  one  of  those  superannuated  vet- 


402 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


erans  who  flourished  before  the  revolution,  and 
have  weathered  all  the  storms  of  Paris,  in  conse- 
quence, very  probably,  of  being  fortunately  too  in- 
significant to  attract  attention.  He  has  a  small 
income,  which  he  manages  with  the  skill  of  a 
French  economist  ;  appropriating  so  much  for 
his  lodgings,  so  much  for  his  meals  ;  so  much  for 
his  visits  to  St.  Cloud  and  Versailles,  and  so  much 
for  his  seat  at  the  theatre.  He  has  resided  in  the 
hotel  for  years,  and  always  in  the  same  chamber, 
which  he  furnishes  at  his  own  expense.  The  dec- 
orations of  the  room  mark  his  various  ages.  There 
are  some  gallant  pictures  which  he  hung  up  in 
his  younger  days  ;  with  a  portrait  of  a  lady  of 
rank,  whom  he  speaks  tenderly  of,  dressed  in  the 
old  French  taste  ;  and  a  pretty  opera  dancer, 
pirouetting  in  a  hoop  petticoat,  who  lately  died  at 
a  good  old  age.  In  a  corner  of  this  picture  is 
stuck  a  prescription  for  rheumatism,  and  below 
it  stands  an  easy-chair.  He  has  a  small  parrot 
at  the  window,  to  amuse  him  when  within  doors, 
and  a  pug  dog  to  accompany  him  in  his  daily 
peregrinations.  While  I  am  writing  he  is  cross- 
ing the  court  to  go  out.  He  is  attired  in  his  best 
coat,  of  sky-blue,  and  is  doubtless  bound  for  the 
Tuileries.  His  hair  is  dressed  in  the  old  style, 
with  powdered  ear-locks  and  a  pig-tail.  His  lit- 
tle dogvtrips  after  him,  sometimes  on  four  legs, 
sometimes  on  three,  and  looking  as  if  his  leather 
small-clothes  were  too  tight  for  him.  Now  the 
old  gentleman  stops  to  have  a  word  with  an  old 
crony  who  lives  in  the  entre-sol,  and  is  just  re- 
turning from  his  promenade.  Now  they  take  a 
pinch  of  snuff  together  ;  now  they  pull  out  huge 
red  cotton  handkerchiefs  (those  "  flags  of  abomi- 
nation," as  they  have  well  been  called)  and  blow 
their  noses  most  sonorously.  Now  they  turn  to 
make  remarks  upon  their  two  little  dogs,  who 
are  exchanging  the  morning's  salutation  ;  now 
they  part,  and  my  old  gentleman  stops  to  have  a 
passing  word  with  the  porter's  wife  ;  and  now  he 
sallies  forth,  and  is  fairly  launched  upon  the  town 
for  the  day. 

No  man  is  so  methodical  as  a  complete  idler, 
and  none  so  scrupulous  in  measuring  and  por- 
tioning out  his  time  as  he  whose  time  is  worth 
nothing.  The  old  gentleman  in  question  has  his 
exact  hour  for  rising,  and  for  shaving  himself  by 
a  small  mirror  hung  against  his  casement.  He 
sallies  forth  at  a  certain  hour  every  morning  to 
take  his  cup  of  coffee  and  his  roll  at  a  certain 
cafe,  where  he  reads  the  papers.  He  has  been  a 
regular  admirer  of  the  lady  who  presides  at  the 
bar,  and  always  stops  to  have  a  little  badinage 
with  her  en  passant.  He  has  his  regular  walks 
on  the  Boulevards  and  in  the  Palais  Royal,  where 
he  sets  his  watch  by  the  petard  fired  off  by  the 
sun  at  mid-day.  He  has  his  daily  resort  in  the 
Garden  of  the  Tuileries,  to  meet  with  a  knot  of 
veteran  idlers  like  himself,  who  talk  on  pretty 
much  the  same  subjects  whenever  they  meet.  He 
has  been  present  at  all  the  sights  and  shows  and 
rejoicings  of  Paris  for  the  last  fifty  years  ;  has 
witnessed  the  great  events  of  the  revolution  ;  the 
guillotining  of  the  king  and  queen  ;  the  corona- 
tion of  Bonaparte  ;  the  capture  of  Paris,  and  the 
restoration  of  the  Bourbons.  All  these  he  speaks 
of  with  the  coolness  of  a  theatrical  critic  ;  and  1 
question  whether  he  has  not  been  gratified  by 
each  in  its  turn  ;  not  from  any  inherent  love  of 
tumult,  but  from  that  insatiable  appetite  for  spec- 
tacle which  prevails  among  the  inhabitants  of  this 
metropolis.  I  have  been  amused  with  a  farce,  in 
which  one  of  these  systematic  old  triflers  is  repre- 
sented. He  sings  a  song  detailing  his  whole 


day's  round  of  insignificant  occupations,  and  goes 
to  bed  delighted  with  the  idea  that  his  next  day 
will  be  an  exact  repetition  of  the  same  routine  : 

"  Je  me  couche  le  soir, 
Enchante  de  pouvoir 
Recommencer  mon  train 
Le  lendemain 
Matin." 


THE   ENGLISHMAN   AT   PARIS. 

IN  another  part  of  the  hotel  a  handsome  suite 
of  rooms  is  occupied  by  an  old  English  gentle- 
man, of  great  probity,  some  understanding,  and 
very  considerable  crustiness,  who  has  come  to 
France  to  live  economically.  He  has  a  very  fair 
property,  but  his  wife,  being  of  that  blessed  kind 
compared  in  Scripture  to  the  fruitful  vine,  has 
overwhelmed  him  with  a  family  of  buxom  daugh- 
ters, who  hang  clustering  about  him,  ready  to  be 
gathered  by  any  hand.  He  is  seldom  to  be  seen 
in  public  without  one  hanging  on  each  arm,  and 
smiling  on  all  the  world,  while  his  own  mouth  is 
drawn  down  at  each  corner  like  a  mastiff's  with 
internal  growling  at  everything  about  him.  He 
adheres  rigidly  to  English  fashion  in  dress,  and 
trudges  about  in  long  gaiters  and  broad-brimmed 
hat  ;  while  his  daughters  almost  overshadow  him 
with  feathers,  flowers,  and  French  bonnets. 

He  contrives  to  keep  up  an  atmosphere  of  Eng- 
lish habits,  opinions,  and  prejudices,  and  to  carry 
a  semblance  of  London  into  the  very  heart  of 
Paris.  His  mornings  are  spent  at  Galignani's 
news-room,  where  he  forms  one  of  a  knot  of  in- 
veterate quidnuncs,  who  read  the  same  articles 
over  a  dozen  times  in  a  dozen  different  papers. 
He  generally  dines  in  company  with  some  of  his 
own  countrymen,  and  they  have  what  is  called  a 
"  comfortable  sitting"  after  dinner,  in  the  Eng- 
lish fashion,  drinking  wine,  discussing  the  news 
of  the  London  papers,  and  canvassing  the  French 
character,  the  French  metropolis,  and  the  French 
revolution,  ending  with  a  unanimous  admission  of 
English  courage,  English  morality,  English  cook- 
ery, English  wealth,  the  magnitude  of  London, 
and  the  ingratitude  of  the  French. 

His  evenings  are  chiefly  spent  at  a  club  of  his 
countrymen,  where  the  London  papers  are  taken. 
Sometimes  his  daughters  entice  him  to  the  the- 
atres, but  not  often.  He  abuses  French  tragedy, 
as  all  fustian  and  bombast,  Talma  as  a  ranter, 
and  Duchesnois  as  a  mere  termagant.  It  is  true 
his  ear  is  not  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  lan- 
guage to  understand  French  verse,  and  he  gen- 
erally goes  to  sleep  during  the  performance.  The 
wit  of  the  French  comedy  is  flat  and  pointless  to 
him.  He  would  not  give  one  of  Munden's  wry- 
faces,  or  Listen's  inexpressible  looks  for  the 
whole  of  it. 

He  will  not  admit  that  Paris  has  any  advantage 
over  London.  The  Seine  is  a  muddy  rivulet  in 
comparison  with  the  Thames  ;  the  West  End  of 
London  surpasses  the  finest  parts  of  the  French 
capital  ;  and  on  some  one's  observing  that  there 
was  a  very  thick  fog  out  of  doors  :  "  Pish  !"  said 
he,  crustily,  "  it's  nothing  to  the  fogs  we  have  in 
London." 

He  has  infinite  trouble  in  bringing  his  table  into 
anything  like  conformity  to  English  rule.  With 
his  liquors,  it  is  true,  he  is  tolerably  successful. 
He  procures  London  porter,  arid  a  stock  of  port  and 
sherry,  at  considerable  expense  ;  for  he  observes 
that  he  cannot  stand  those  cursed  thin  French 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


403 


wines,  they  dilute  his  blood  so  much  as  to  give 
him  the  rheumatism.  As  to  their  white  wines, 
he  stigmatizes  them  as  mere  substitutes  for  cider  ; 
and  as  to  claret,  why  "  it  would  be  port  if  it 
could."  He  has  continual  quarrels  with  his 
French  cook,  whom  he  renders  wretched  by  in- 
sisting on  his  conforming  to  Mrs.  Glass  ;  for  it  is 
easier  to  convert  a  Frenchman  from  his  religion 
than  his  cookery.  The  poor  fellow,  by  dint  of  re- 
peated efforts,  once  brought  himself  to  serve  up 
ros  ^//sufficiently  raw  to  suit  what  he  considered 
the  cannibal  taste  of  his  master  ;  but  then  he 
could  not  refrain,  at  the  last  moment,  adding  some 
exquisite  sauce,  that  put  the  old  gentleman  in  a 
fury. 

He  detests  wood-fires,  and  has  procured  a 
quantity  of  coal  ;  but  not  having  a  grate,  he  is 
obliged  to  burn  it  on  the  hearth.  Here  he  sits 
poking  and  stirring  the  fire  with  one  end  of  a 
tongs,  while  the  room  is  as  murky  as  a  smithy  ; 
railing  at  French  chimneys,  French  masons,  and 
French  architects  ;  giving  a  poke  at  the  end  of 
every  sentence,  as  though  he  were  stirring  up  the 
very  bowels  of  the  delinquents  he  is  anathematiz- 
ing. He  lives  in  a  state  militant  with  inanimate 
objects  around  him  ;  gets  into  high  dudgeon  with 
doors  and  casements,  because  they  will  not  come 
under  English  law,  and  has  implacable  feuds  with 
sundry  refractory  pieces  of  furniture.  Among 
these  is  one  in  particular  with  which  he  is  sure  to 
have  a  high  quarrel  every  time  he  goes  to  dress. 
It  is  a  commode,  one  of  those  smooth,  polished, 
plausible  pieces  of  French  furniture,  that  have 
the  perversity  of  five  hundred  devils.  Each  drawer 
has  a  will  of  its  own  ;  will  open  or  not,  just  as 
the  whim  takes  it,  and  sets  lock  and  key  at  defi- 
ance. Sometimes  a  drawer  will  refuse  to  yield 
to  either  persuasion  or  force,  and  will  part  with 
both  handles  rather  than  yield  ;  another  will 
come  out  in  the  most  coy  and  coquettish  manner 
imaginable  ;  elbowing  along,  zig-zag  ;  one  corner 
retreating  as  the  other  advances  ;  making  a  thou- 
sand difficulties  and  objections  at  every  move  ; 
until  the  old  gentleman,  out  of  all  patience,  gives 
a  sudden  jerk,  and  brings  drawer  and  contents 
into  the  middle  of  the  floor.  His  hostility  to  this 
unlucky  piece  of  furniture  increases  every  day,  as 
if  incensed  that  it  does  not  grow  better.  He  is 
like  the  fretful  invalid  who  cursed  his  bed,  that 
the  longer  he  lay  the  harder  it  grew.  The  only 
benefit  he  has  derived  from  the  quarrel  is,  that  it 
has  furnished  him  with  a  crusty  joke,  which  he 
utters  on  all  occasions.  He  swears  that  a  French 
commode  is  the  most  incommodious  thing  in  ex- 
istence, and  that  although  the  nation  cannot  make 
a  joint-stool  that  will  stand  steady,  yet  they  are 
always  talking  of  everything's  being  perfectionee. 

His  servants  understand  his  humor,  and  avail 
themselves  of  it.  He  was  one  day  disturbed  by  a 
pertinacious  rattling  and  shaking  at  one  of  the 
doors,  and  bawled  out  in  an  angry  tone  to  know 
the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  "  Sir,"  said  the 
footman,  testily,  "  it's  this  confounded  French 
lock  !"  "  Ah  !"  said  the  old  gentleman,  pacified 
by  this  hit  at  the  nation,  "  I  thought  there  was 
something  French  at  the  bottom  of  it  !" 


ENGLISH    AND   FRENCH   CHARACTER. 

As  I  am  a  mere  looker  on  in  Europe,  and  hold 
myself  as  much  as  possible  aloof  from  its  quarrels 
and  prejudices,  I  feel  something  like  one  over- 
looking a  game,  who,  without  any  great  skill  of 
his  own,  can  occasionally  perceive  the  blunders  of 


much  abler  players.  -This  neutrality  of  feeling 
enables  me  to  enjoy  the  contrasts  of  character 
presented  in  this  time  of  general  peace,  when  the 
various  people  of  Europe,  who  have  so  long  been 
sundered  by  wars,  are  brought  together  and 
placed  side  by  side  in  this  great  gathering-place 
of  nations.  No  greater  contrast,  however,  is  ex- 
hibited than  that  of  the  French  and  English. 
The  peace  has  deluged  this  gay  capital  with  En- 
glish visitors  of  all  ranks  and  conditions.  They 
throng  every  place  of  curiosity  and  amusement  ; 
fill  the  public  gardens,  the  galleries,  the  cafe's, 
saloons,  theatres  ;  always  herding  together,  never 
associating  with  the  French.  The  two  nations 
are  like  two  threads  of  different  colors,  tangled 
together  but  never  blended. 

In  fact  they  present  a  continual  antithesis,  and 
seem  to  value  themselves  upon  being  unlike  each 
other  ;  yet  each  have  their  peculiar  merits,  which 
should  entitle  them  to  each  other's  esteem.  The 
French  intellect  is  quick  and  active.  It  flashes 
its  way  into  a  subject  with  the  rapidity  of  light- 
ning ;  seizes  upon  remote  conclusions  with  a  sud- 
den bound,  and  its  deductions  are  almost  intui- 
tive. The  English  intellect  is  less  rapid,  but 
more  persevering  ;  less  sudden,  but  more  sure  in 
its  deductions.  The  quickness  and  mobility  of 
the  French  enable  them  to  find  enjoyment  in  the 
multiplicity  of  sensations.  They  speak  and  act 
more  from  immediate  impressions  than  from  re- 
flection and  meditation.  They  are  therefore  more 
social  and  communicative  ;  more  fond  of  society, 
and  of  places  of  public  resort  and  amusement 
An  Englishman  is  more  reflective  in  his  habits. 
He  lives  in  the  world  of  his  own  thoughts,  and 
seems  more  self-existent  and  self-dependent.  He 
loves  the  quiet  of  his  own  apartment,  even  when 
abroad,  he  in  a  manner  makes  a  little  solitude 
around  him,  by  his  silence  and  reserve  ;  he  moves 
about  shy  and  solitary,  and  as  it  were,  buttoned 
up,  body  and  soul. 

The  French  are  great  optimists  ;  they  seize 
upon  every  good  as  it  flies,  and  revel  in  the  pass- 
ing pleasure.  The  Englishman  is  too  apt  to  ne- 
glect the  present  good,  in  preparing  against  the 
possible  evil.  However  adversities  may  lower, 
let  the  sun  shine  but  for  a  moment,  and  forth 
sallies  the  mercurial  Frenchman,  in  holiday  dress 
and  holiday  spirits,  gay  as  a  butterfly,  as  though 
his  sunshine  were  perpetual  ;  but  let  the  sun 
beam  never  so  brightly,  so  there  be  but  a  cloud 
in  the  horizon,  the  wary  Englishman  ventures 
forth  distrustfully,  with  his  umbrella  in  his  hand. 

The  Frenchman  has  a  wonderful  facility  at 
turning  small  things  to  advantage.  No  one  can 
be  gay  and  luxurious  on  smaller  means  ;  no  one 
requires  less  expense  to  be  happy.  He  practises 
a  kind  of  gilding  in  his  style  of  living,  and  ham- 
mers out  every  guinea  into  gold  leaf.  The 
Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  is  expensive  in  his 
habits,  and  expensive  in  his  enjoyments.  He 
values  everything,  whether  useful  or  ornamental, 
by  what  it  costs.  He  has  no  satisfaction  in 
show,  unless  it  be  solid  and  complete.  Every- 
thing goes  with  him  by  the  square  foot.  What- 
ever display  he  makes,  the  depth  is  sure  to  equal 
the  surface. 

The  Frenchman's  habitation,  like  himself,  is 
open,  cheerful,  bustling,  and  noisy.  He  lives  in 
a  part  of  a  great  hotel,  with  wide  portal,  paved 
court,  a  spacious  dirty  stone  staircase,  and  a 
family  on  every  floor.  All  is  clatter  and  chatter. 
He  is  good  humored  and  talkative  with  his  ser* 
vants,  sociable  with  his  neighbors,  and  com- 
plaisant to  all  the  world.  Anybody  has  access  to 


404 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


himself  and  his  apartments  ;  his  very  bed-room 
is  open  to  visitors,  whatever  may  be  its  state  of 
confusion  ;  and  all  this  not  from  any  peculiarly 
hospitable  feeling,  but  from  that  communicative 
habit  which  predominates  over  his  character. 

The  Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  ensconces 
himself  in  a  snug  brick  mansion,  which  he  has  all 
to  himself  ;  locks  the  front  door  ;  puts  broken 
bottles  along  his  walls,  and  spring  guns  and  man- 
traps in  his  gardens  ;  shrouds  himself  with  trees 
and  window-curtains  ;  exults  in  his  quiet  and  pri- 
vacy, and  seems  disposed  to  keep  out  noise,  day- 
light, and  company.  His  house,  like  himself,  has 
a  reserved,  inhospitable  exterior  ;  yet  whoever 
gains  admittance  is  apt  to  find  a  warm  heart  and 
warm  fireside  within. 

The  French  excel  in  wit,  the  English  in 
humor  ;  the  French  have  gayer  fancy,  the  English 
richer  imagination.  The  former  are  full  of  sensi- 
bility ;  easily  moved,  and  prone  to  sudden  and 
great  excitement  ;  but  their  excitement  is  not 
durable  ;  the  English  are  more  phlegmatic  ;  not 
so  readily  affected,  but  capable  of  being  aroused 
to  great  enthusiasm.  The  faults  of  these  opposite 
temperaments  are  that  the  vivacity  of  the  French 
is  apt  to  sparkle  up  and  be  frothy,  the  gravity  of 
the  English  to  settle  down  and  grow  muddy. 
When  the  two  characters  can  be  fixed  in  a 
medium,  the  French  kept  from  effervescence  and 
the  English  from  stagnation,  both  will  be  found 
excellent. 

This  contrast  of  character  may  also  be  noticed 
in  the  great  concerns  of  the  two  nations.  The 
ardent  Frenchman  is  all  for  military  renown  ;  he 
fights  for  glory,  that  is  to  say,  for  success  in 
arms.  For,  provided  the  national  flag  is  victori- 
ous, he  cares  little  about  the  expense,  the  injus- 
tice, or  the  inutility  of  the  war.  It  is  wonderful 
how  the  poorest  Frenchman  will  revel  on  a  tri- 
umphant bulletin  ;  a  great  victory  is  meat  and 
drink  to  him  ;  and  at  the  sight  of  a  military  sov- 
ereign, bringing  home  captured  cannon  and  cap- 
tured standards,  he  throws  up  his  greasy  cap  in 
the  air,  and  is  ready  to  jump  out  of  his  wooden 
shoes  for  joy. 

John  Bull,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  reasoning,  con- 
siderate person.  If  he  does  wrong,  it  is  in  the 
most  rational  way  imaginable.  He  fights  because 
the  good  of  the  world  requires  it.  He  is  a  moral 
person,  and  makes  war  upon  his  neighbor  for  the 
maintenance  of  peace  and  good  order,  and  sound 
principles.  He  is  a  money-making  personage, 
and  fights  for  the  prosperity  of  commerce  and 
manufactures.  Thus  the  two  nations  have  been 
fighting,  time  out  of  mind,  for  glory  and  good. 
The  French,  in  pursuit  of  glory,  have  had  their 
capital  twice  taken  ;  and  John  in  pursuit  of  good, 
has  run  himself  over  head  and  ears  in  debt. 


THE  TUILERIES  AND  WINDSOR  CASTLE. 

1  HAVE  sometimes  fancied  I  could  discover  na- 
tional characteristics  in  national  edifices.  In  the 
Chateau  of  the  Tuileries,  for  instance,  I  perceive 
the  same  jumble  of  contrarieties  that  marks  the 
French  character  ;  the  same  whimsical  mixture  of 
the  great  and  the  little  ;  the  splendid  and  the  pal- 
try, the  sublime  and  the  grotesque.  On  visiting 
this  lamous  pile,  the  first  thing  that  strikes  both 
eye  and  ear  is  military  display.  The  courts  glitter 
with  steel-clad  soldiery,  and  resound  with  the 
tramp  of  horse,  the  roll  of  drum,  and  the  bray  of 


trumpet.  Dismounted  guardsmen  patrol  Its 
arcades,  with  loaded  carbines,  jingling  spears, 
and  clanking  sabres.  Gigantic  grenadiers  are 
posted  about  its  staircases  ;  young  officers  of  the 
guards  loll  from  the  balconies,  or  lounge  in 
groups  upon  the  terraces  ;  and  the  gleam  of  bayo- 
net from  window  to  window,  shows  that  sentinels 
are  pacing  up  and  down  the  corridors  and  ante- 
chambers. The  first  floor  is  brilliant  with  the 
splendors  of  a  court.  French  taste  has  tasked 
itself  in  adorning  the  sumptuous  suites  of  apart- 
ments ;  nor  are  the  gilded  chapel  and  the  splen- 
did theatre  forgotten,  where  piety  and  pleasure 
are  next-door  neighbors,  and  harmonize  together 
with  perfect  French  bienseance. 

Mingled  up  with  all  this  regal  and  military 
magnificence,  is  a  world  of  whimsical  and  make- 
•shift  detail.  A  great  part  of  the  huge  edifice  is 
cut  up  into  little  chambers  and  nestling-places  for 
retainers  of  the  court,  dependants  on  retainers, 
and  hangers-on  of  dependants.  Some  are 
squeezed  into  narrow  entre-cols,  those  low,  dark, 
intermediate  slices  of  apartments  between  floors, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  seem  shoved  in  edge- 
ways, like  books  between  narrow  shelevs  ;  others 
are  perched  like  swallows,  under  the  eaves  ;  the 
high  roofs,  too,  which  are  as  tall  and  steep  as  a 
French  cocked-hat,  have  rows  of  little  dormant 
windows,  tier  above  tier,  just  large  enough  to  ad- 
mit light  and  air  for  some  dormitory,  and  to  en- 
able its  occupant  to  peep  out  at  the  sky.  Even  to 
the  very  ridge  of  the  roof,  may  be  seen  here  and 
there  one  of  these  air-holes,  with  a  stove  pipe  be- 
side it,  to  carry  off  the  smoke  from  the  handful  of 
fuel  with  which  its  weazen-faced  tenant  simmers 
his  demi-tasse  of  coffee. 

On  approaching  the  palace  from  the  Pont  Royal, 
you  take  in  at  a  glance  all  the  various  strata  of 
inhabitants  ;  the  garreteer  in  the  roof  ;  the  re- 
tainer in  the  entre-sol  ;  the  courtiers  at  the  case- 
ments of  the  royal  apartments  ;  while  on  the 
ground -floor  a  steam  of  savory  odors  and  a  score 
or  two  of  cooks,  in  white,  caps,  bobbing  their 
heads  about  the  windows,  betray  that  scientific 
and  all-important  laboratory,  the  Royal  Kitchen. 

Go  into  the  grand  ante-chamber  of  the  royal 
apartments  on  Sunday  and  see  the  mixture  of  Old 
and  New  France  ;  the  old  emigres,  returned  with 
the  Bourbons  ;  little  withered,  spindle-shanked 
old  noblemen,  clad  in  court  dresses,  that  figured 
in  these  saloons  before  the  revolution,  and  have 
been  carefully  treasured  up  during  their  exile  ; 
with  the  solitaires  and  ailes  de  pigeon  of  former 
days  ;  and  the  court  swords  strutting  out  behind, 
like  pins  stuck  through  dry  beetles.  See  them 
haunting  the  scenes  of  their  former  splendor,  in 
hopes  of  a  restitution  of  estates,  like  ghosts  haunt- 
ing the  vicinity  of  buried  treasure  ;  while  around 
them  you  see  the  Young  France,  that  have 
grown  up  in  the  fighting  school  of  Napoleon  ;  all 
equipped  en  militaire ;  tall,  hardy,  frank,  vigor- 
ous, sun-burned,  fierce-whiskered  ;  with  tramping 
boots,  towering  crests,  and  glittering  breast- 
plates. 

It  is  incredible  the  number  of  ancient  and 
hereditary  feeders  on  royalty  said  to  be  housed  in 
this  establishment.  Indeed  all  the  royal  palaces 
abound  with  noble  families  returned  from  exile, 
and  who  have  nestling-places  allotted  them  while 
they  await  the  restoration  of  their  estates,  or  the 
much-talked-of  law  indemnity.  Some  of  them 
have  fine  quarters,  but  poor  living.  Some  fami- 
lies have  but  five  or  six  hundred  francs  a  year, 
and  all  their  retinue  consists  of  a  servant  woman. 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


405 


With  all  this,  they  maintain  their  old  aristocrati- 
cal  hauteur,  look  down  with  vast  contempt  upon 
the  opulent  families  which  have  risen  since  the 
revolution  ;  stigmatize  them  all  as  parvenues,  or 
upstarts,  and  refuse  to  visit  them. 

In  regarding  the  exterior  of  the  Tuileries,  with 
all  its  outward  signs  of  internal  populousness,  I 
have  often  thought  what  a  rare  sight  it  would  be 
to  see  it  suddenly  unroofed,  and  all  its  nooks  and 
corners  laid  open  to  the  day.  It  would  be  like 
turning  up  the  stump  of  an  old  tree,  and  dislodg- 
ing the  world  of  grubs,  and  ants,  and  beetles 
lodged  beneath.  Indeed  there  is  a  scandalous 
anecdote  current,  that  in  the  time  of  one  of  the 
petty  plots,  when  petards  were  exploded  under 
the  windows  of  the  Tuileries,  the  police  made  a 
sudden  investigation  of  the  palace  at  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning  ;  when  a  scene  of  the  most  whim- 
sical confusion  ensued.  Hosts  of  supernumerary 
inhabitants  were  found  foisted  into  the  huge  edi- 
fice ;  every  rat-hole  had  its  occupant  ;  and  places 
which  had  been  considered  as  tenanted  only  by 
spiders,  were  found  crowded  with  a  surreptitious 
population.  It  is  added,  that  many  ludicrous  ac- 
cidents occurred  ;  great  scampering  and  slam- 
ming of  doors,  and  whisking  away  in  night-gowns 
and  slippers  ;  and  several  persons,  who  were 
found  by  accident  in  their  neighbors'  chambers, 
evinced  indubitable  astonishment  at  the  circum- 
stance. 

As  I  have  fancied  I  could  read  the  French 
character  in  the  national  palace  of  the  Tuileries, 
so  I  have  pictured  to  myself  some  of  the  traits  of 
John  Bull  in  his  royal  abode  of  Windsor  Castle. 
The  Tuileries,  outwardly  a  peaceful  palace,  is  in 
effect  a  swaggering  military  hold  ;  while  the  old 
castle,  on  the  contrary,  in  spite  of  its  bullying 
look,  is  completely  under  petticoat  government. 
Every  corner  and  nook  is  built  up  into  some  snug, 
cosy  nestling  place,  some  "  procreant  cradle,"  not 
tenanted  by  meagre  expectants  or  whiskered 
warriors,  but  by  sleek  placemen  ;  knowing  real- 
izers  of  present  pay  and  present  pudding  ;  who 
seem  placed  there  not  to  kill  and  destroy,  but  to 
breed  and  multiply.  Nursery  maids  and  children 
shine  with  rosy  faces  at  the  windows,  and  swarm 
about  the  courts  and  terraces.  The  very  soldiers 
have  a  pacific  look,  and  when  off  duty  may  be 
seen  loitering  about  the  place  with  the  nursery- 
maids ;  not  making  love  to  them  in  the  gay  gal- 
lant style  of  the  French  soldiery,  but  with  infinite 
bonhommie  aiding  them  to  take  care  of  the  broods 
of  children. 

Though  the  old  castle  is  in  decay,  everything 
about  it  thrives  ;  the  very  crevices  of  the  walls  are 
tenanted  by  swallows,  rooks,  and  pigeons,  all 
sure  of  quiet  lodgment  ;  the  ivy  strikes  its  roots 
deep  in  the  fissures,  and  flourishes  about  the 
mouldering  tower.*  Thus  it  is  with  honest  John  ; 
according  to  his  own  account,  he  is  ever  going  to 
ruin,  yet  everything  that  lives  on  him,  thrives 
and  waxes  fat.  He  would  fain  be  a  soldier,  and 
swagger  like  his  neighbors  ;  but  his  domestic, 
quiet-loving,  uxorious  nature  continually  gets  the 
upper  hand  ;  and  though  he  may  mount  his  hel- 
met and  gird  on  his  sword,  yet  he  is  apt  to  sink 
into  the  plodding,  pains-taking  father  of  a  family  ; 
with  a  troop  of  children  at  his  heels,  and  his 
women-kind  hanging  on  each  arm. 


*  The  above  sketch  was  written  before  the  thorough 
repairs  and  magnificent  additions  that  have  been  made 
of  late  years  to  Windsor  Castle. 


THE  FIELD  OF  WATERLOO. 

I  HAVE  spoken  heretofore  with  some  levity  of  the 
contrast  that  exists  between  the  English  and  French 
character  ;  but  it  deserves  more  serious  consid- 
eration. They  are  the  two  great  nations  of  mod- 
ern times  most  diametrically  opposed,  and  most 
worthy  of  each  other's  rivalry  ;  essentially  distinct 
in  their  characters,  excelling  in  opposite  quali- 
ties, and  reflecting  lustre  on  each  other  by  their 
very  opposition.  In  nothing  is  this  contrast  more 
strikingly  evinced  than  in  their  military  conduct. 
For  ages  have  they  been  contending,  and  for  ages 
have  they  crowded  each  other's  history  with  acts 
of  splendid  heroism.  Take  the  Battle  of  Water- 
loo, for  instance,  the  last  and  most  memorable 
trial  of  their  rival  prowess.  Nothing  could  sur- 
pass the  brilliant  daring  on  the  one  side,  and  the 
steadfast  enduring  on  the  other.  The  French 
cavalry  broke  like  waves  on  the  compact  squares 
of  English  infantry.  They  were  seen  galloping 
round  those  serried  walls  of  men,  seeking  in  vain 
for  an  entrance  ;  tossing  their  arms  in  the  air,  in 
the  heat  of  their  enthusiasm,  and  braving  the 
whole  front  of  battle.  The  British  troops,  on  the 
other  hand,  forbidden  to  move  or  fire,  stood  firm 
and  enduring.  Their  columns  were  ripped  up  by 
cannonry  ;  whole  rows  were  swept  down  at  a 
shot  ;  the  survivors  closed  their  ranks,  and  stood 
firm.  In  this  way  many  columns  stood  through 
the  pelting  ol  the  iron  tempest  without  firing  a 
shot  ;  without  any  action  to  stir  their  blood,  or 
excite  their  spirits.  Death  thinned  their  ranks, 
but  could  not  shake  their  souls. 

A  beautiful  instance  of  the  quick  and  generous 
impulses  to  which  the  French  are  prone,  is  given 
in  the  case  of  a  French  cavalier,  in  the  hottest  of 
the  action,  charging  furiously  upon  a  British  offi- 
cer, but  perceiving  in  the  moment  of  assault  that 
his  adversary  had  lost  his  sword-arm,  dropping 
the  point  of  his  sabre,  and  courteously  riding  on. 
Peace  be  with  that  generous  warrior,  whatever 
were  his  fate  !  If  he  went  down  in  the  storm  of 
battle,  with  the  foundering  fortunes  of  his  chief- 
tain, may  the  turf  ol  Waterloo  grow  green  above 
his  grave  !  and  happier  far  would  be  the  fate  of 
such  a  spirit,  to  sink  amid  the  tempest,  uncon- 
scious of  defeat,  than  to  survive,  and  mourn  over 
the  blighted  laurels  of  his  country. 

In  this  way  the  two  armies  fought  throug;h  a 
long  and  bloody  day.  The  French  with  enthusi- 
astic valor,  the  English  with  cool,  inflexible  cour- 
age, until  Fate,  as  if  to  leave  the  question  of 
superiority  still  undecided  between  two  such 
adversaries,  brought  up  the  Prussians  to  decide 
the  fortunes  of  the  field. 

It  was  several  years  afterward  that  I  visited  the 
field  of  Waterloo.  The  ploughshare  had  been 
busy  with  its  oblivious  labors,  and  the  frequent 
harvest  had  nearly  obliterated  the  vestiges  of  war. 
Still  the  blackened  ruins  of  Hoguemont  stood,  a 
monumental  pile,  to  mark  the  violence  of  this 
vehement  struggle.  Its  broken  walls,  pierced  by 
bullets,  and  shattered  by  explosions,  snowed  the 
deadly  strife  that  had  taken  place  within  ;  when 
Gaul  and  Briton,  hemmed  in.  between  narrow 
walls,  hand  to  hand  and  foot  to  foot,  fought  from 
garden  to  court-yard,  from  court-yard  to  cham- 
ber, with  intense  and  concentrated  rivalship. 
Columns  of  smoke  turned  from  this  vortex  of  bat- 
tle as  from  a  volcano  :  "  it  was,"  said  my  guide, 
"  like  a  little  hell  upon  earth."  Not  far  off,  two 
or  three  broad  spots  of  rank,  unwholesome  green 
still  marked  the  places  where  these  rival  warriors, 


40G 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


after  their  fierce  and  fitful  struggle,  slept  quietly 
together  in  the  lap  of  their  common  mother  earth. 
Over  all  the  rest  of  the  field  peace  had  resumed 
its  sway.  The  thoughtless  whistle  of  the  peasant 
floated  on  the  air,  instead  of  the  trumpet's 
•clangor  ;  the  team  slowly  labored  up  the  hill-side, 
once  shaken  by  the  hoofs  of  rushing  squadrons  ; 
and  wide  fields  of  corn  waved  peacefully  over  the 
soldiers'  graves,  as  summer  seas  dimple  over  the 
place  where  many  a  tall  ship  lies  buried. 


To  the  foregoing  desultory  notes  on  the  French 
military  character,  let  me  append  a  few  traits 
which  I  picked  up  verbally  in  one  of  the  French 
provinces.  They  may  have  already  appeared  in 
print,  but  I  have  never  met  with  them. 

At  the  breaking  out  of  the  revolution,  when  so 
many  of  the  old  families  emigrated,  a  descendant 
of  the  great  Turenne,  by  the  name  of  De  Latour 
D'Auvergne,  refused  to  accompany  his  relations, 
and  entered  into  the  Republican  army.  He 
served  in  all  the  campaigns  of  the  revolution,  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  his  valor,  his  accomplish- 
ments, and  his  generous  spirit,  and  might  have 
risen  to  fortune  and  to  the  highest  honors.  He 
refused,  however,  all  rank  in  the  army,  above  that 
of  captain,  and  would  receive  no  recompense  for 
his  achievements  but  a  sword  of  honor.  Napo- 
leon, in  testimony  of  his  merits,  gave  him  the  title 
of  Premier  Grenadier  de  France  (First  Grenadier 
of  France),  which  was  the  only  title  he  would 
ever  bear.  He  was  killed  in  Germany,  in  1809 
or  '10.  To  honor  his  memory,  his  place  was 
always  retained  in  his  regiment,  as  if  he  still  oc- 
cupied it ;  and  whenever  the  regiment  was  mus- 
tered, and  the  name  of  De  Latour  D'Auvergne 
was  called  out,  the  reply  was,  "  Dead  on  the  field 
of  honor  !" 


PARIS   AT   THE   RESTORATION. 

PARIS  presented  a  singular  aspect  just  after  the 
downfall  of  Napoleon,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
Bourbons.  It  was  filled  with  a  restless,  roaming 
population  ;  a  dark,  sallow  race,  with  fierce 
moustaches,  black  cravats,  and  feverish,  menacing 
looks  ;  men  suddenly  thrown  out  of  employ  by  the 
return  of  peace  ;  officers  cut  short  in  their  career, 
and  cast  loose  with  scanty  means,  many  of  them 
in  utter  indigence,  upon  the  world  ;  the  broken 
elements  of  armies.  They  haunted  the  places  of 
public  resort,  like  restless,  unhappy  spirits,  tak- 
ing no  pleasure  ;  hanging  about,  like  lowering 
clouds  that  linger  after  a  storm,  and  giving  a  sin- 
gular air  of  gloom  to  this  otherwise  gay  metropo- 
lis. 

The  vaunted  courtesy  of  the  old  school,  the 
smooth  urbanity  that  prevailed  in  former  days  of 
settled  government  and  long-established  aris- 
tocracy, had  disappeared  amid  the  savage  repub- 
licanism of  the  revolution  and  the  military  furor 
of  the  empire  ;  recent  reverses  had  stung  the  na- 
tional vanity  to  the  quick  ;  and  English  travellers, 
who  crowded  to  Paris  on  the  return  of  peace,  ex- 
pecting to  meet  with  a  gay,  good-humored,  com- 
plaisant populace,  such  as  existed  in  the  time  of 
the  "Sentimental  Journey,"  were  surprised  at 
finding  them  irritable  and  fractious,  quick  at 
fancying  affronts,  and  not  unapt  to  offer  insults. 
They  accordingly  inveighed  with  heat  and  bitter- 
ness at  the  rudeness  they  experienced  in  the  French 
metropolis  ;  yet  what  better  had  they  to  expect  ? 
Had  Charles  II.  been  reinstated  in  his  kingdom 


by  the  valor  of  French  troops  ;  had  he  been 
wheeled  triumphantly  to  London  over  the  trampled 
bodies  and  trampled  standards  of  England's 
bravest  sons  ;  had  a  French  general  dictated  to 
the  English  capital,  and  a  French  army  been  quar- 
tered in  Hyde-Park  ;  had  Paris  poured  forth  its 
motley  population,  and  the  wealthy  bourgeoise  of 
every  French  trading  town  swarmed  to  London  ; 
crowding  its  squares  ;  filling  its  streets  with  their 
equipages  ;  thronging  its  fashionable  hotels,  and 
places  of  amusements  ;  elbowing  its  impoverished 
nobility  out  of  their  palaces  and  opera-boxes,  and 
looking  down  on  the  humiliated  inhabitants  as  a 
conquered  people  ;  in  such  a  reverse  of  the  case, 
what  degree  of  courtesy  would  the  populace  of 
London  have  been  apt  to  exercise  toward  their 
visitors  ?  * 

On  the  contrary,  I  have  always  admired  the  de- 
gree of  magnanimity  exhibited  by  the  French  on 
the  occupation  of  their  capital  by  the  English. 
When  we  consider  the  military  ambition  of  this 
nation,  its  love  of  glory  ;  the  splendid  height  to 
which  its  renown  in  arms  had  recently  been  car- 
ried, and  with  these,  the  tremendous  reverses  it 
had  just  undergone  ;  its  armies  shattered,  annihi- 
lated ;  its  capital  captured,  garrisoned,  and  over- 
run, and  that  too  by  its  ancient  rival,  the  English, 
toward  whom  it  had  cherished  for  centuries  a 
jealous  and  almost  religious  hostility  ;  could  we 
have  wondered  if  the  tiger  spirit  of  this  fiery  peo- 
ple had  broken  out  in  bloody  feuds  and  deadly 
quarrels  ;  and  that  they  had  sought  to  rid  them- 
selves in  any  way  of  their  invaders  ?  But  it  is 
cowardly  nations  only,  those  who  dare  not  wield 
the  sword,  that  revenge  themselves  with  the  lurk- 
ing dagger.  There  were  no  assassinations  in 
Paris.  The  French  had  fought  valiantly,  desper- 
ately, in  the  field  ;  but,  when  valor  was  no  longer 
of  avail,  they  submitted  like  gallant  men  to  a  fate 
they  could  not  withstand.  Some  instances  of  in- 
sult from  the  populace  were  experienced  by  their 
English  visitors  ;  some  personal  rencontres,  which 
led  to  duels,  did  take  place  ;  but  these  smacked 
of  open  and  honorable  hostility.  No  instances  of 
lurking  and  perfidious  revenge  occurred,  and  the 
British  soldier  patrolled  the  streets  of  Paris  safe 
from  treacherous  assault. 

If  the  English  met  with  harshness  and  repulse 
in  social  intercourse,  it  was  in  some  degree  a  proof 
that  the  people  are  more  sincere  than  has  been 
represented.  The  emigrants  who  had  just  re- 
turned, were  not  yet  reinstated.  Society  was  con- 
stituted of  those  who  had  flourished  under  the  late 
regime  ;  the  newly  ennobled,  the  recently  en- 
riched, who  felt  their  prosperity  and  their  conse- 
quence endangered  by  this  change  of  things.  The 
broken-down  officer,  who  saw  his  glory  tarnished, 
his  fortune  ruined,  his  occupation  gone,  could  not 
be  expected  to  look  with  complacency  upon  the 
authors  of  his  downfall.  The  English  visitor, 
flushed  with  health,  and  wealth,  and  victory, 
could  little  enter  into  the  feelings  of  the  blighted 
warrior,  scarred  with  a  hundred  battles,  an  exile 
from  the  camp,  broken  in  constitution  by  the 
wars,  impoverished  by  the  peace,  and  cast  back, 
a  needy  stranger  in  the  splendid  but  captured 
metropolis  of  his  country. 

'Oh!  who  can  tell  what  heroes  feel, 
When  all  but  life  and  honor's  lost!" 


*  The  above  remarks  were  suggested  by  a  conver- 
sation with  the  late  Mr.  Canning,  whom  the  author 
met  in  Paris,  and  who  expressed  himself  in  the  most 
liberal  way  concerning  the  magnanimity  ot  the  French 
on  the  occupation  of  their  capital  by  strangers. 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


407 


And  here  let  me  notice  the  conduct  of  the 
French  soldiery  on  the  dismemberment  of  the 
army  of  the  Loire,  when  two  hundred  thousand 
men  were  suddenly  thrown  out  of  employ;  men 
who  had  been  brought  up  to  the  camp,  and  scarce 
knew  any  other  home.  Few  in  civil,  peaceful  life, 
are  aware  of  the  severe  trial  to  the  feelings  that 
takes  place  on  the  dissolution  of  a  regiment. 
There  is  a  fraternity  in  arms.  The  community 
of  dangers,  hardships,  enjoyments  ;  the  participa- 
tion in  battles  and  victories  ;  the  companionship 
in  adventures,  at  a  time  of  life  when  men's  feel- 
ings are  most  fresh,  susceptible,  and  ardent,  all 
these  bind  the  members  of  a  regiment  strongly 
together.  To  them  the  regiment  is  friends, 
family,  home.  They  identify  themselves  with  its 
fortunes,  its  glories,  its  disgraces.  Imagine  this 
romantic  tie  suddenly  dissolved  ;  the  regiment 
broken  up  ;  the  occupation  of  its  members 
gone  ;  their  military  pride  mortified  ;  the  ca- 
reer of  glory  closed  behind  them  ;  that  of  ob- 
scurity, dependence,  want,  neglect,  perhaps  beg- 
gary, before  them.  Such  was  the  case  with  the 
soldiers  of  the  Army  of  the  Loire.  They  were 
sent  off  in  squads,  with  officers,  to  the  principal 
towns  where  they  were  to  be  disarmed  and  dis- 
charged. In  this  way  they  passed  through  the 
country  with  arms  in  their  hands,  often  exposed 
to  slights  and  scoffs,  to  hunger  and  various  hard- 
ships aad  privations  ;  but  they  conducted  them- 
selves magnanimously,  without  any  of  those  out- 
breaks of  violence  and  wrong  that  so  often  attend 
the  dismemberment  of  armies. 


The  few  years  that  have  elapsed  since  the  time 
above  alluded  to,  have  already  had  their  effect. 
The  proud  and  angry  spirits  which  then  roamed 
about  Paris  unemployed  have  cooled  down  and 
found  occupation.  The  national  character  be- 
gins to  recover  its  old  channels,  though  worn 
deeper  by  recent  torrents.  The  natural  urbanity 
of  the  French  begins  to  find  its  way,  like  oil,  to 
the  surface,  though  there  still  remains  a  degree  of 
roughness  and  bluntness  of  manner,  partly  real, 
and  partly  affected,  by  such  as  imagine  it  to  indi- 
cate force  and  frankness.  The  events  of  the  last 
thirty  years  have  rendered  the  French  a  more  re- 
flecting people.  They  have  acquired  greater  in- 
dependence of  mind  and  strength  of  judgment, 
together  with  a  portion  of  that  prudence  which 
results  from  experiencing  the  dangerous  conse- 
quences of  excesses.  However  that  period  may 
have  been  stained  by  crimes,  and  filled  with  ex- 
travagances, the  French  have  certainly  come  out 
of  it  a  greater  nation  than  before.  One  of  their 
own  philosophers  observes  that  in  one  or  two 
generations  the  nation  will  probably  combine  the 
ease  and  elegance  of  the  old  character  with  force 
and  solidity.  They  were  light,  he  says,  before 
the  revolution  ;  then  wild  and  savage  ;  they  have 
become  more  thoughtful  and  reflective.  It  is 
only  old  Frenchmen,  novv-a-days,  that  are  gay 
and  trivial  ;  the  young  are  very  serious  person- 
ages. 


P.S.  In  the  course  of  a  morning's  walk, about  the 
time  the  above  remarks  were  written,  I  observed 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  was  on  a  brief  visit 
to  Paris.  He  was  alone,  simply  attired  in  a  blue 
frock  ;  with  an  umbrella  under  his  arm,  and  his 
hat  drawn  over  his  eyes,  and  sauntering  across 
the  Place  Vendome.  close  by  the  Column  of 
Napoleon.  He  gave  a  glance  up  at  the  column  as 


he  passed,  and  continued  his  loitering  way  up  the 
Rue  de  la  Paix  ;  stopping  occasionally  to  gaze  in 
at  the  shop-windows  ;  elbowed  now  and  then  by 
other  gazers,  who  little  suspected  that  the  quiet, 
lounging  individual  they  were  jostling  so  uncere- 
moniously, was  the  conqueror  who  had  twice  en- 
tered their  capital  victoriously  ;  had  controlled  the 
destinies  of  the  nation,  and  eclipsed  the  glory  of 
the  military  idol,  at  the  base  of  whose  column  he 
was  thus  negligently  sauntering. 

Some  years  afterward  I  was  at  an  evening's  en^ 
tertainment  given  by  the  Duke  at  Apsley  House, 
to  William  IV.  The  duke  had  manifested  his  ad- 
miration of  his  great  adversary,  by  having  por- 
traits of  him  in  different  parts  of  the  house.  At 
the  bottom  of  the  grand  staircase,  stood  the 
colossal  statue  of  the  emperor,  by  Canova.  It 
was  of  marble,  in  the  antique  style,  with  one  arm 
partly  extended,  holding  a  figure  of  victory.  Over 
this  arm  the  ladies,  in  tripping  up  stairs  to  the 
ball,  had  thrown  their  shawls.  It  was  a  singular 
office  for  the  statue  of  Napoleon  to  perform  in  the 
mansion  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  ! 

"  Imperial  Caesar  dead,  and  turned  to  clay,"  etc.,  etc. 


AMERICAN  RESEARCHES  IN  ITALY, 

LIFE  OF  TASSO  :    RECOVERY  OF  A  LOST  PORTRAIT 
OF   DANTE. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Knickerbocker  : 

SIR  :  Permit  me  through  the  pages  of  your 
magazine  to  call  the  attention  of  the  public  to  the 
learned  and  elegant  researches  in  Europe  of  one 
of  our  countrymen,  Mr.  R.  H.  Wilde,  of  Georgia, 
formerly  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives. After  leaving  Congress,  Mr.  Wilde  a  few 
years  since  spent  about  eighteen  months  in  travel- 
ling through  different  parts  of  Europe,  until  he 
became  stationary  for  a  time  in  Tuscany.  Here 
he  occupied  himself  with  researches  concerning 
the  private  life  of  Tasso,  whose  mysterious  and 
romantic  love  for  the  Princess  Leonora,  his  mad- 
ness and  imprisonment,  had  recently  become  the 
theme  of  a  literary  controversy,  not  yet  ended  ; 
curious  in  itself,  and  rendered  still  more  curious 
by  some  alleged  manuscripts  of  the  poet's,  brought 
forward  by  Count  Albert!.  Mr.  Wilde  entered 
into  the  investigation  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a 
poet,  and  the  patience  and  accuracy  of  a  case- 
hunter  ;  and  has  produced  a  work  now  in  the 
press,  in  which  the  "  vexed  questions"  concern- 
ing Tasso  are  most  ably  discussed,  and  lights 
thrown  upon  them  by  his  letters,  and  by  various 
of  his  sonnets,  which  last  are  rendered  into  Eng- 
lish with  rare  felicity.  While  Mr.  Wilde  was  oc- 
cupied upon  this  work,  he  became  acquainted 
with  Signer  Carlo  Liverati,  an  artist  of  considera- 
ble merit,  and  especially  well  versed  in  the  antiq- 
uities of  Florence.  This  gentleman  mentioned 
incidentally  one  day,  in  the  course  of  conversa. 
tion,  that  there  once  and  probably  still  existed  in 
the  Bargello,  anciently  both  the  prison  and  the 
palace  of  the  republic,  an  authentic  portrait  of 
Dante.  It  was  believed  to  be  in  fresco,  on  a  wall 
which  afterward,  by  some  strange  neglect  or  in- 
advertency, had  been  covered  with  whitewash. 
Signor  Liverati  mentioned  the  circumstance 
merely  to  deplore  the  loss  of  so  precious  a  por- 
trait, and  to  regret  the  almost  utter  hopelessness 
of  its  recovery. 


408 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


As  Mr.  Wilde  had  not  as  yet  imbibed  that  en- 
thusiastic admiration  for  Dante  which  possesses 
all  Italians,  by  whom  the  poet  is  almost  worship- 
ped, this  conversation  made  but  a  slight  impres- 
sion on  him  at  the  time.  Subsequently,  however, 
-  his  researches  concerning  Tasso  being  ended,  he 
j  began  to  amuse  his  leisure  hours  with  attempts 
to  translate  some  specimens  of  Italian  lyric  poe- 
try, and  to  compose  very  short  biographical 
sketches  of  the  authors.  In  these  specimens, 
which  as  yet  exist  only  in  manuscript,  he  has 
shown  the  same  critical  knowledge  of  the  Italian 
language,  and  admirable  command  of  the  Eng- 
lish, that  characterize  his  translations  of  Tasso. 
He  had  not  advanced  far  in  these  exercises,  when 
the  obscure  and  contradictory  accounts  of  many 
incidents  in  the  life  of  Dante  caused  him  much 
embarrassment,  and  sorely  piqued  his  curiosity. 
About  the  same  time  he  received,  through  the 
courtesy  of  Don  Neri  dei  Principi  Corsini,  what 
he  had  long  most  fervently  desired,  a  permission 
from  the  Grand  Duke  to  pursue  his  investigations 
in  the  secret  archives  of  Florence,  with  power  to 
obtain  copies  therefrom.  This  was  a  rich  and 
almost  unwrought  mine  of  literary  research  ;  for 
to  Italians  themselves,  as  well  as  to  foreigners, 
their  archives  for  the  most  part  have  been  long 
inaccessible.  For  two  years  Mr.  Wilde  devoted 
himself  with  indefatigable  ardor  to  explore  the 
records  of  the  republic  during  the  time  of  Dante. 
These  being  written  in  barbarous  Latin  and  semi- 
Gothic  characters,  on  parchment  more  or  less 
discolored  and  mutilated,  with  ink  sometimes 
faded,  were  rendered  still  more  illegible  by  the 
arbitrary  abreviations  of  the  notaries.  They  re- 
quire, in  fact,  an  especial  study  ;  few  even  of  the 
officers  employed  in  the  "  Archivio  dclle  Rifor- 
magionc"  can  read  them  currently  and  correctly. 

Mr.  Wilde  however  persevered  in  his  laborious 
task  with  a  patience  severely  tried,  but  invincible. 
Being  without  an  index,  each  file,  each  book,  re- 
quired to  be  examined  page  by  page,  to  ascertain 
whether  any  particular  of  the  immortal  poet's 
political  life  had  escaped  the  untiring  industry  of 
his  countrymen.  This  toil  was  not  wholly  fruit- 
less, and  several  interesting  facts  obscurely 
known,  and  others  utterly  unknown  by  the  Ital- 
ians themselves,  are  drawn  forth  by  Mr.  Wilde 
from  the  oblivion  of  these  archives. 

While  thus  engaged,  the  circumstance  of  the 
lost  portrait  of  Dante  was  again  brought  to  Mr. 
Wilde's  mind,  but  now  excited  intense  interest. 
In  perusing  the  notes  of  the  late  learned  Canonico 
Moreri  on  Filelfo's  life  of  Dante,  he  found  it 
stated  that  a  portrait  of  the  poet  by  Giotto  was 
formerly  to  be  seen  in  the  Bargello.  He  learned 
also  that  Signor  Scotti,  who  has  charge  of  the 
original  drawings  of  the  old  masters  in  the  im- 
perial and  royal  gallery,  had  made  several  years 
previously  an  ineffectual  attempt  to  set  on  foot  a 
project  for  the  recovery  of  the  lost  treasure.  Here 
was  a  new  vein  of  inquiry,  which  Mr.  Wilde  fol- 
lowed up  with  his  usual  energy  and  sagacity.  He 
soon  satisfied  himself,  by  reference  to  Vasari,  and 
to  the  still  more  ancient  and  decisive  authority  of 
Filippo  Villari,  who  lived  shortly  after  the  poet, 
that  Giotto,  the  friend  and  contemporary  of  Dante, 
did  undoubtedly  paint  his  likeness  in  the  place  in- 
dicated. Giotto  died  in  1336,  but  as  Dante  was 
banished,  and  was  even  sentenced  to  be  burned, 
in  1302,  it  was  obvious  the  work  must  have  been 
executed  before  that  time  ;  since  the  portrait  of 
one  outlawed  and  capitally  convicted  as  an  enemy 
to  the  commonwealth  would  never  have  been  or- 
dered or  tolerated  in  the  chapel  of  the  royal  pal- 


ace. It  was  clear,  then,  that  the  portrait  must 
have  been  painted  between  1290  and  1302. 

Mr.  Wilde  now  revolved  in  his  own  mind  the 
possibility  that  this  precious  relic  might  remain 
undestroyed  under  its  coat  of  whitewash,  and 
might  yet  be  restored  to  the  world.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  felt  an  impulse  to  undertake  the  enter- 
prise ;  but  feared  that,  in  a  foreigner  from  a  new 
world,  any  part  of  which  is  unrepresented  at  the 
Tuscan  court,  it  might  appear  like  an  intrusion. 
He  soon  however  found  a  zealous  coadjutor.  This 
was  one  Giovanni  Aubrey  Bezzi,  a  Pieclmontese 
exile,  who  had  long  been  a  resident  in  England, 
and  was  familiar  with  its  language  and  literature. 
He  was  now  on  a  visit  to  Florence,  which  liberal 
and  hospitable  city  is  always  open  to  men  of  merit 
who  for  political  reasons  have  been  excluded 
from  other  parts  of  Italy.  Signor  Bezzi  partook 
deeply  of  the  enthusiasm  of  his  countrymen  for 
the  memory  of  Dante,  and  sympathized  with  Mr. 
Wilde  in  his  eagerness  to  retrieve  if  possible  the 
lost  portrait.  They  had  several  consultations  as 
to  the  means  to  be  adopted  to  effect  their  pur- 
pose, without  incurring  the  charge  of  undue 
officiousness.  To  lessen  any  objections  that 
might  occur  they  resolved  to  ask  for  nothing  but 
permission  to  search  for  the  fresco  painting  at 
their  own  expense  ;  and  should  any  remains  of  it 
be  found,  then  to  propose  to  the  nobility  and  gen- 
try of  Florence  an  association  for  the  purpose  of 
completing  the  undertaking,  and  effectually  re- 
covering the  lost  portrait. 

For  the  same  reason  the  formal  memorial  ad- 
dressed to  the  Grand  Duke  was  drawn  up  in  the 
name  of  Florentines  ;  among  whom  were  the  cel- 
ebrated Bartolini,  now  President  of  the  School  of 
Sculpture  in  the  Imperial  and  Royal  Academy  Sig- 
nor Paolo  Ferroni.of  the  noble  family  of  that  name, 
who  has  exhibited  considerable  talent  for  painting, 
and  Signor  Gasparini,  also  an  artist.  This  petition 
was  urged  and  supported  with  indefatigable  zeal 
by  Signor  Bezzi  ;  and  being  warmly  countenanced 
by  Count  Nerli  and  other  functionaries,  met  with 
more  prompt  success  than  had  been  anticipated. 
Signor  Marini,  a  skilful  artist,  who  had  succeeded 
in  similar  operations,  was  now  employed  to  re- 
move the  whitewash  by  a  process  of  his  own,  by 
which  any  fresco  painting  that  might  exist  beneath 
would  be  protected  from  injury.  He  set  to  work 
patiently  and  cautiously.  In  a  short  time  he  met 
with  evidence  of  the  existence  of  the  fresco.  From 
under  the  coat  of  whitewash  the  head  of  an  angel 
gradually  made  its  appearance,  and  was  pro- 
nounced to  be  by  the  pencil  of  Giotto. 

The  enterprise  was  now  prosecuted  with  in- 
creased ardor.  Several  months  were  expended 
on  the  task,  and  three  sides  of  the  chapel  wall 
were  uncovered  ;  they  were  all  painted  in  fresco 
by  Giotto,  with  the  history  of  the  Magdalen,  ex- 
hibiting her  conversion,  her  penance,  and  her 
beatification.  The  figures,  however,  were  all 
those  of  saints  and  angels  ;  no  historical  portraits 
had  yet  been  discovered,  and  doubts  began  to  be 
entertained  whether  there  were  any.  Still  the 
recovery  of  an  indisputable  work  of  Giotto's  was 
considered  an  ample  reward  for  any  toil  ;  and  the 
Ministers  of  the  Grand  Duke,  acting  under  his  di- 
rections, assumed  on  his  behalf  the  past  charges 
and  future  management  of  the  enterprise. 

At  length,  on  the  uncovering  of  the  fourth  wall, 
the  undertaking  was  crowned  with  complete  suc- 
cess. A  number  of  historical  figures  were 
brought  to  light,  and  among  them  the  undoubted 
likeness  of  Dante.  He  was  represented  in  full 
length,  in  the  garb  of  the  time,  with  a  book  under 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


409 


his  arm,  designed  most  probably  to  represent  the 
"  Vita  Nuova,"  for  the  "  Comedia"  was  not  yet 
composed,  and  to  all  appearance  from  thirty  to 
thirty-five  years  of  age.  The  face  was  in  profile, 
and  in  excellent  preservation,  excepting  that  at 
some  former  period  a  nail  had  unfortunately  been 
driven  into  the  eye.  The  outline  of  the  eyelid 
was  perfect,  so  that  the  injury  could  easily  be 
remedied.  The  countenance  was  extremely 
handsome,  yet  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
portaits  of  the  poet  taken  later  in  life. 

It  is  not  easy  to  appreciate  the  delight  of  Mr. 
Wilde  and  his  coadjutors  at  this  triumphant  result 
of  their  researches  ;  nor  the  sensation  produced, 
not  merely  in  Florence  but  throughout  Italy,  by 
this  discovery  of  a  veritable  portrait  of  Dante,  in 
the  prime  of  his  days.  It  was  some  such  sensa- 
tion as  would  be  produced  in  England  by  the 
sudden  discovery  of  a  perfectly  well  authenticated 
likeness  of  Shakespeare  ;  with  a  difference  in  in- 
tensity proportioned  to  the  superior  sensitiveness 
of  the  Italians. 

The  recovery  of  this  portrait  of  the  "  divine 
poet"  has  occasioned  fresh  inquiry  into  the  origin 
of  the  masks  said  to  have  been  made  from  a  cast 
of  his  face  taken  after  death.  One  of  these  masks, 
in  the  possession  of  the  Marquess  of  Torrigiani, 
has  been  pronounced  as  certainly  the  original. 
Several  artists  of  high  talent  have  concurred  in  this 
opinion  ;  among  these  may  be  named  Jesi,  the 
first  engraver  in  Florence  ;  Seymour  Kirkup, 
Esq.,  a  painter  and  antiquary  ;  and  our  own 
countryman  Powers,  whose  genius,  by  the  way,  is 
very  highly  appreciated  by  the  Italians. 

We  may  expect  from  the  accomplished  pen  of 
Carlo  Torrigiani,  son  of  the  Marquess,  and  who 
is  advantageously  known  in  this  country,  from 
having  travelled  here,  an  account  of  this  curious 
and  valuable  relic,  which  has  been  upward  of  a 
century  in  the  possession  of  his  family. 

Should  Mr.  Wilde  finish  his  biographical  work 
concerning  Dante,  which  promises  to  be  a  proud 
achievement  in  American  literature,  he  intends,  I 
understand,  to  apply  for  permission  to  have  both 
likenesses  copied,  and  should  circumstances  war- 
rant the  expense,  to  have  them  engraved  by  emi- 
nent artists.  We  shall  then  have  the  features  of 
Dante  while  in  the  prime  of  life  as  well  as  at  the 
moment  of  his  death.  G  C. 


THE  TAKING  OF  THE  VEIL, 

ONE  of  the  most  remarkable  personages  in  Pa- 
risian society  during,  the  last  century  was  Renee 
Charlotte  Victoire  de  Froulay  De  Tessa",  Mar- 
chioness De  Crequi.  She  sprang  from  the  highest 
and  proudest  of  the  old  French  nobility,  and  ever 
maintained  the  most  exalted  notions  of  the  purity 
and  antiquity  of  blood,  looking  upon  all  fam- 
ilies that  could  not  date  back  further  than  three 
or  four  hundred  years  as  mere  upstarts.  When  a 
beautiful  girl,  fourteen  years  of  age,  she  was  pre- 
sented to  Louis  XIV.,  at  Versailles,  and  the  an- 
cient monarch  kissed  her  hand  with  great  gal- 
lantry ;  after  an  interval  of  about  eighty-five 
years,  when  nearly  a  hundred  years  old,  the  same 
testimonial  of  respect  was  paid  her  at  the  Tuiler- 
ies  by  Bonaparte,  then  First  Consul,  who  prom- 
ised her  the  restitution  of  the  confiscated  forests 
formerly  belonging  to  her  family.  She  was  one 
of  the  most  celebrated  women  of  her  time  for 
intellectual  grace  and  superiority,  and  had  the 


courage  to  remain  at  Paris  and  brave  all  the 
horrors  of  the  revolution,  which  laid  waste  the 
aristocratical  world  around  her. 

The  memoirs  she  has  left  behind  abound  with 
curious  anecdotes  and  vivid  pictures  of  Parisian 
life  during  the  latter  days  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  re- 
gency of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the  residue  of 
the  last  century  ;  and  are  highly  illustrative  of  the 
pride,  splendor,  and  licentiousness  of  the  French 
nobility  on  the  very  eve  of  their  tremendous 
downfall. 

I  shall  draw  forth  a  few  scenes  from  her  mem- 
oirs, taken  almost  at  random,  and  which,  though 
given  as  actual  and  well-known  circumstances, 
have  quite  the  air  of  romance. 


All  the  great  world  of  Paris  were  invited  to  be 
present  at  a  grand  ceremonial,  to  take  place  in 
the  church  of  the  Abbey  Royal  of  Panthemont. 
Henrietta  de  Lenoncour,  a  young  girl,  ol  a  noble 
family,  of  great  beauty,  and  heiress  to  immense 
estates,  was  to  take  the  black  veil.  Invitations 
had  been  issued  in  grand  form,  by  her  aunt  and 
guardian,  the  Countess  Brigitte  de  Rupelmonde, 
canoness  of  Mauberge.  The  circumstance  caused 
great  talk  and  wonder  in  the  fashionable  circles 
of  Paris  ;  everybody  was  at  a  loss  to  imagine  why 
a  young  girl,  beautiful  and  rich,  in  the  very 
springtime  of  her  charms,  should  renounce  a 
world  which  she  was  so  eminently  qualified  to 
embellish  and  enjoy. 

A  lady  of  high  rank,  who  visited  the  beautiful 
novice  at  the  grate  of  her  convent-parlor,  got  a 
clue  to  the  mystery.  She  found  her  in  great  agi- 
tation ;  for  a  time  she  evidently  repressed  her 
feelings,  but  they  at  length  broke  forth  in  pas- 
sionate exclamations.  "  Heaven  grant  me  grace," 
said  she,  "  some  day  or  other  to  pardon  my  cousin 
Gondrecourt  the  sorrows  he  has  caused  me  !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? — what  sorrows,  my 
child  ?"  inquired  her  visitor.  "  What  has  your 
cousin  done  to  affect  you  ?" 

"  He  is  married  !"  cried  she  in  accents  of  de- 
spair, but  endeavoring  to  repress  her  sobs. 

"  Married  !  I  have  heard  nothing  of  the  kind, 
my  dear.  Are  you  perfectly  sure  of  it  ?" 

"  Alas  !  nothing  is  more  certain  ;  my  aunt  de 
Rupelmonde  informed  me  of  it." 

The  lady  retired,  full  ot  surprise  and  commiser- 
ation. She  related  the  scene  in  a  circle  of  the 
highest  nobility,  in  the  saloon  of  the  Marshal 
Prince  ot  Beauvau,  where  the  unaccountable  self- 
sacrifice  of  the  beautiful  novice  was  under  discus- 
sion. 

"  Alas  !"  said  she,  "  the  poor  girl  is  crossed  ia 
love  ;  she  is  about  to  renounce  the  world  in  de- 
spair, at  the  marriage  of  her  cousin  De  Gondre- 
court.' 

"What!"  cried  a  gentleman  present,  "the 
Viscount  de  Gondrecourt  married  !  Never  was 
there  a  greater  falsehood.  And  '  her  aunt  told 
her  so  !'  Oh  !  I  understand  the  plot.  The  coun- 
tess is  passionately  fond  of  Gondrecourt,  and 
jealous  of  her  beautiful  niece  ;  but  her  schemes 
are  vain  ;  the  Viscount  holds  her  in  perfect  de- 
testation." 

There  was  a  mingled  expression  of  ridicule, 
disgust,  and  indignation  at  the  thought  of  such  a 
rivalry.  The  Countess  Rupelmonde  was  old 
enough  to  be  the  grandmother  of  the  Viscount. 
She  was  a  woman  of  violent  passions,  and  im- 
perious temper  ;  robust  in  person,  with  a  mascu- 
line voice,  a  dusky  complexion,  green  eyes,  and 
powerful  eyebrows. 


410 


THE    CRAYON   PAPERS. 


"  It  is  impossible,"  cried  one  of  the  company, 
"  that  a  woman  of  the  countess'  age  and  appear- 
ance can  be  guilty  of  such  folly.  No,  no  ;  you 
mistake  the  aim  of  this  detestable  woman.  She  is 
managing  to  get  possession  of  the  estate  of  her 
lovely  niece." 

This  was  admitted  to  be  the  most  probable  ; 
and  all  concurred  in  believing  the  countess  to  be 
at  the  bottom  of  the  intended  sacrifice  ;  for  al- 
though a  canoness,  a  dignitary  of  a  religious 
order,  she  was  pronounced  little  better  than  a 
devil  incarnate. 

The  Princess  de  Beauvau,  a  woman  of  gen- 
erous spirit  and  intrepid  zeal,  suddenly  rose  from 
the  chair  in  which  she  had  been  reclining.  "  My 
prince,"  said  she,  addressing  her  husband,  "  if 
you  approve  of  it,  I  will  go  immediately  and  have 
a  conversation  on  this  subject  with  the  arch- 
bishop. There  is  not  a  moment  to  spare.  It  is 
now  past  midnight  ;  the  ceremony  is  to  take  place 
in  the  morning.  A  few  hours  and  the  irrevocable 
vows  will  be  pronounced." 

The  prince  inclined  his  head  in  respectful  as- 
sent. The  princess  set  about  her  generous  enter- 
prise with  a  woman's  promptness.  Within  a 
short  time  her  carriage  was  at  the  iron  gate  of 
the  archiepiscopal  palace,  and  her  servants  rang 
for  admission^  TwoSwitzers,  who  had  charge  of 
the  gate,  were  fast  asleep  in  the  porter's  lodge, 
for  it  was  half-past  two  in  the  morning.  It  was 
some  time  before  they  could  be  awakened,  and 
longer  before  they  could  be  made  to  come  forth. 

"  The  Princess  de  Beauvau  is  at  the  gate  !"• 

Such  a  personage  was  not  to  be  received  in 
deshabille.  Her  dignity  and  the  dignity  of  the 
archbishop  demanded  that  the  gate  should  be 
served  in  full  costume.  For  half  an  hour,  there- 
fore, had  the  princess  to  wait,  in  feverish  impa- 
tience, until  the  two  dignitaries  of  the  porter's 
lodge  arrayed  themselves  ;  and  three  o'clock 
sounded  from  the  tower  of  Notre  Dame  before 
they  came  forth.  They  were  in  grand  livery,  of 
a  buff  color,  with  amaranth  galloons,  plaited  with 
silver,  and  fringed  sword-belts  reaching  to  their 
knees,  in  which  were  suspended  long  rapiers. 
They  had  small  three-cornered  hats,  surmounted 
with  plumes  ;  and  each  bore  in  his  hand  a  hal- 
bert.  Thus  equipped  at  all  points,  they  planted 
themselves  before  the  door  of  the  carriage  ; 
struck  the  ends  of  their  halberts  on  the  ground 
with  emphasis  ;  and  stood  waiting  with  official 
importance,  but  profound  respect,  to  know  the 
pleasure  of  the  princess. 

She  demanded  to  speak  with  the  archbishop. 
A  most  reverential  bow  and  shrug  accompanied 
the  reply,  that  "  His  Grandeur  was  not  at  home." 
.  Not  at  home  !  Where  was  he  to  be  found  ? 
Another  bow  and  shrug  :  "  His  Grandeur  either 
was,  or  ought  to  be,  in  retirement  in  the  semi- 
nary of  St.  Magloire  ;  unless  he  had  gone  to  pass 
the  Fete  of  St.  Bruno  with  the  reverend  Carthusian 
Fathers  of  the  Rue  d'Enfer  ;  or  perhaps  he  might 
have  gone  to  repose  himself  in  his  castle  of  Con- 
flans-sur-Seine.  Though,  on  further  thought,  it 
was  not  unlikely  he  might  have  gone  to  sleep  at 
St.  Cyr,  where  the  Bishop  of  Chartres  never  failed 
to  invite  him  for  the  anniversary  soirde  of  Ma- 
dame de  Maintenon." 

The  princess  was  in  despair  at  this  multiplicity 
of  cross-roads  pointed  out  for  the  chase  ;  the  brief 
interval  of  time  was  rapidly  elapsing  ;  day  already 
began  to  dawn  ;  she  saw  there  was  no  hope  of 
finding  the  archbishop  before  the  moment  of  his 
entrance  into  the  church  for  the  morning's  cere- 
mony ;  so  she  returned  home  quite  distressed. 


At  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  princess 
was  in  the  parlor  of  the  monastery  of  De  Panthe- 
mont,  and  sent  in  an  urgent  request  for  a  mo- 
ment's conversation  with  the  Lady  Abbess.  The 
reply  brought  was,  that  the  Abbess  could  not 
come  to  the  parlor,  being  obliged  to  attend  in  the 
choir,  at  the  canonical  hours.  The  princess  en- 
treated permission  to  enter  the  convent,  to  reveal 
to  the  Lady  Abbess  in  two  words  something  of 
the  greatest  importance.  The  Abbess  sent  word 
in  reply,  that  the  thing  was  impossible,  until  she 
had  obtained  permission  from  the  Archbishop  of 
Paris.  The  princess  retired  once  more  to  her  car- 
riage, and  now,  as  a  forlorn  hope,  took  her  sta- 
tion at  the  door  of  the  church,  to  watch  for  the 
arrival  of  the  prelate. 

After  a  while  the  splendid  company  invited  to 
this  great  ceremony  began  to  arrive.  The  beauty, 
rank,  and  wealth  of  the  novice  had  excited  great 
attention  ;  and,  as  everybody  was  expected  to  be 
present  on  the  occasion,  everybody  pressed  to  se- 
cure a  place.  The  street  reverberated  with  the 
continual  roll  of  gilded  carriages  and  chariots  ; 
coaches  of  princes  and  dukes,  designated  by  im- 
perials of  crimson  velvet,  and  magnificent  equi- 
pages of  six  horses,  decked  out  with  nodding 
plumes  and  sumptuous  harnessing.  At  length 
the  equipages  ceased  to  arrive  ;  empty  vehicles 
filled  the  street ;  and,  with  a  noisy  and  parti-col- 
ored crowd  of  lacqueys  in  rich  liveries,  obstructed 
all  the  entrances  to  De  Panthemont. 

Eleven  o'clock  had  struck  ;  the  last  auditor  had 
entered  the  church  ;  the  deep  tones  of  the  organ 
began  to  swell  through  the  sacred  pile,  yet  still 
the  archbishop  came  not  !  The  heart  of  the  prin- 
cess beat  quicker  and  quicker  with  vague  appre- 
hension ;  when  a  valet,  dressed  in  cloth  of  silver, 
trimmed  with  crimson  velvet,  approached  her  car- 
riage precipitately.  "  Madame,"  said  he,  "  the 
archbishop  is  in  the  church  ;  he  entered  by  the 
portal  of  the  cloister  ;  he  is  already  in  the  sanc- 
tuary ;  the  ceremony  is  about  to  commence  !" 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  To  speak  with  the 
archbishop  was  now  impossible,  and  yet  on  the 
revelation  she  was  to  make  to  him  depended  the 
fate  of  the  lovely  novice.  The  princess  drew  forth 
her  tablets  of  enamelled  gold,  wrote  a  few  lines 
therein  with  a  pencil,  and  ordered  her  lacquey  to 
make  way  tor  her  through  the  crowd,  and  con- 
duct her  with  all  speed  to  the  sacristy. 

The  description  given  of  the  church  and  the  as- 
semblage on  this  occasion  presents  an  idea  of  the 
aristocratical  state  of  the  times,  and  of  the  high  in- 
terest awakened  by  the  affecting  sacrifice  about 
to  take  place.  The  church  was  hung  with  superb 
tapestry,  above  which  extended  a  band  of  white 
damask,  fringed  with  gold,  and  covered  with 
armorial  escutcheons.  A  large  pennon,  em- 
blazoned with  the  arms  and  alliances  of  the  high- 
born damsel,  was  suspended,  according  to  cus- 
tom, in  place  of  the  lamp  of  the  sanctuary.  The 
lustres,  girandoles,  and  candelabras  of  the  king 
had  been  furnished  in  profusion,  to  decorate  the 
sacred  edifice,  and  the  pavements  were  all  cov- 
ered with  rich  carpets. 

The  sanctuary  presented  a  reverend  and  au- 
gust assemblage  of  bishops,  canons,  and  monks 
of  various  orders,  Benedictines,  Bernardines, 
Raccollets,  Capuchins,  and  others,  all  in  their  ap- 
propriate robes  and  dresses.  In  the  midst  pre- 
sided the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  Christopher  de 
Beaumont ;  surrounded  by  his  four  arch  priests 
and  his  vicars-general.  He  was  seated  with  his 
back  against  the  altar.  When  his  eyes  were  cast 
down,  his  countenance,  pale  and  severe,  is  repre- 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


411 


sentecl  as  having  been  somewhat  sepulchral  and 
death-like  ;  but  the  moment  he  raised  his  large, 
dark,  sparkling-  eyes,  the  whole  became  ani- 
mated ;  beaming  with  ardor,  and  expressive  of 
energy,  penetration,  and  firmness. 

The  audience  that  crowded  the  church  was  no 
less  illustrious.  Excepting  the  royal  family,  all 
that  was  elevated  in  rank  and  title  was  there  ; 
never  had  a  ceremonial  of  the  kind  attracted  an 
equal  concourse  of  the  high  aristocracy  of 
Paris. 

At  length  the  grated  gates  of  the  choir  creaked 
on  their  hinges,  and  Madame  de  Richelieu,  the 
high  and  noble  Abbess  of  De  Panthemont,  ad- 
vanced to  resign  the  novice  into  the  hands  of  her 
aunt,  the  Countess  Canoness  De  Rupelmonde. 
Every  eye  was  turned  with  intense  curiosity  to 
gain  a  sight  of  the  beautiful  victim.  She  was 
sumptuously  dressed,  but  her  paleness  and  lan- 

¥uor  accorded  but  little  with  her  brilliant  attire, 
he  Canoness  De  Rupelmonde  conducted  her 
niece  to  her  praying-desk,  where,  as  soon  as  the 
poor  girl  knelt  down,  she  sank  as  if  exhausted. 
Just  then  a  sort  of  murmur  was  heard  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  church,  where  the  servants  in 
livery  were  gathered.  A  young  man  was  borne 
forth,  struggling  in  convulsions.  He  was  in  the 
uniform  of  an  officer  of  the  guards  of  King  Stan- 
islaus, Duke  of  Lorraine.  A  whisper  circulated 
that  it  was  the  young  Viscount  de  Gondrecourt, 
and  that  he  was  a  lover  of  the  novice.  Almost  all 
the  young  nobles  present  hurried  forth  to  proffer 
him  sympathy  and  assistance. 

The  Archbishop  of  Paris  remained  all  this  time 
seated  before  the  altar  ;  his  eyes  cast  down,  his 
pallid  countenance  giving  no  signs  of  interest  or 
participation  in  the  scene  around  him.  It  was 
noticed  that  in  one  of  his  hands,  which  was  cov- 
ered with  a  violet  glove,  he  grasped  firmly  a  pair 
of  tablets,  of  enamelled  gold. 

The  Canoness  De  Rupelmonde  conducted  her 
niece  to  the  prelate,  to  make  her  profession  of  self- 
devotion,  and  to  utter  the  irrevocable  vow.  As 
the  lovely  novice  knelt  at  his  feet,  the  archbishop 
fixed  on  her  his  dark,  beaming  eyes,  with  a  kind 
but  earnest  expression.  "  Sister  !"  said  he,  in 
the  softest  and  most  benevolent  tone  of  voice, 
"  What  is  your  age  ?" 

"  Nineteen  years,  Monsigneur,"  eagerly  inter- 
posed the  Countess  de  Rupelmonde. 

"  You  will  reply  to  me  by  and  bye,  Madame," 
said  the  archbishop,  dryly.  He  then  repeated 
his  question  to  the  novice,  who  replied  in  a  fal- 
tering voice,  "  Seventeen  years." 

"  In  what  diocese  did  you  take  the  white  veil  ?" 

"  In  the  diocese  of  Toul." 

"  How  !"  exclaimed  the  archbishop,  vehement- 
ly. "  In  the  diocese  of  Toul  ?  The  chair  of  Toul 
is  vacant !  The  Bishop  of  Toul  died  fifteen 
months  since  ;  and  those  who  officiate  in  the 
chapter  are  not  authorized  to  receive  novices, 
"^our  noviciate,  Mademoiselle,  is  null  and  void, 
and  we  cannot  receive  your  profession." 

The  archbishop  rose  from  his  chair,  resumed 
his  mitre,  and  took  the  crozier  from  the  hands  of 
an  attendant. 

"My  dear  brethren,"  said  he,  addressing  the 
assembly,  "  there  is  no  necessity  ior  our  examin- 
ing and  interrogating  Mademoiselle  de  Lenon- 
cour  on  the  sincerity  of  her  religious  vocation. 
There  is  a  canonical  impediment  to  her  profess- 
ing for  the  present  ;  and,  as  to  the  future,  we  re- 
serve to  ourselves  the  consideration  of  the  mat- 
ter ;  interdicting  to  all  other  ecclesiastical  persons 
the  power  of  accepting  her  vows,  under  penalty 


of  interdiction,  of  suspension,  and  of  nullifica- 
tion ;  all  which  is  in  virtue  of  our  metropolitan 
rights,  contained  in  the  terms  of  the  bull  cum 
proximis  :"  "  Adjutorium  nostrum  in  nomine 
Domini!"  pursued  he,  chanting  in  a  grave  and 
solemn  voice,  and  turning  toward  the  altar  to  give 
the  benediction  of  the  holy  sacrament. 

The  noble  auditory  had  that  habitude  of  re- 
serve, that  empire,  or  rather  tyranny,  over  all  out- 
ward manifestations  ot  internal  emotions,  which 
belongs  to  high  aristocratical  breeding.  The  dec- 
laration of  the  archbishop,  therefore,  was  received 
as  onet)f  the  most  natural  and  ordinary  things 
in  the  world,  and  all  knelt  down  and  received  the 
pontifical  benediction  with  perfect  decorum.  As 
soon,  however,  as  they  were  released  from  the 
self-restraint  imposed  by  etiquette,  they  amply  in- 
demnified themselves  ;  and  nothing  was  talked  of 
for  a  month,  in  the  fashionable  saloons  of  Paris, 
but  the  loves  of  the  handsome  Viscount  and  the 
charming  Henrietta  ;  the  wickedness  of  the  can- 
oness  ;  the  active  benevolence  and  admirable 
address  of  the  Princess  de  Beauvau  ;  and  the 
great  wisdom  of  the  archbishop,  who  was  partic- 
ularly extolled  for  his  delicacy  in  defeating  this 
manoeuvre  without  any  scandal  to  the  aristoc- 
racy, or  public  stigma  on  the  name  of  De  Rupel- 
monde, and  without  any  departure  from  pastoral 
gentleness,  by  adroitly  seizing  upon  an  informal- 
ity, and  turning  it  to  beneficial  account,  with 
as  much  authority  as  charitable  circumspec- 
tion. 

As  to  the  Canoness  de  Rupelmonde,  she  was 
defeated  at  all  points  in  her  wicked  plans  against 
her  beautiful  niece.  In  consequence  of  the  caveat 
of  the  archbishop,  her  superior  ecclesiastic,  the 
Abbess  de  Panthemont,  formally  forbade  Ma- 
demoiselle de  Lenoncour  to  resume  the  white  veil 
and  the  dress  of  a  noviciate,  and  instead  of  a  nov- 
ice's cell,  established  her  in  a  beautiful  apartment 
as  a  boarder.  The  next  morning  the  Canoness 
de  Rupelmonde  called  at  the  convent  to  take 
away  her  niece  ;  but,  to  her  confusion,  the  ab- 
bess produced  a  lettre-de-cachet,  which  she  had 
just  received,  and  which  forbade  Mademoiselle  to 
leave  the  convent  with  any  other  person  save  the 
Prince  de  Beauvau. 

Under  the  auspices  and  the  vigilant  attention  of 
the  prince,  the  whole  affair  was  wound  up  in  the 
most  technical  and  circumstantial  manner.  The 
Countess  de  Rupelmonde,  by  a  decree  of  the 
Grand  Council,  was  divested  of  the  guardianship 
of  her  niece.  All  the  arrears  of  revenues  accumu- 
lated during  Mademoiselle  de  Lenoncour's  mi- 
nority were  rigorously  collected,  the  accounts 
scrutinized  and  adjusted,  and  her  noble  fortune 
placed  saiely  and  entirely  in  her  hands. 

In  a  little  while  the  noble  personages  who  had 
been  invited  to  the  ceremony  of  taking  the  veil 
received  another  invitation,  on  the  part  of  the 
Countess  dowager  de  Gondrecourt,  and  the  Mar- 
shal Prince  de  Beauvau,  to  attend  the  marriage 
of  Adrien  de  Gondrecourt,  Viscount  of  Jean-sur- 
Moselle,  and  Henrietta  de  Lenoncour,  Countess 
de  Hevouwal,  etc.,  which  duly  took  place  in  the 
chapel  ot  the  archiepiscopal  palace  at  Paris. 


So  much  for  the  beautiful  Henrietta  de  Lenon- 
cour. We  will  now  draw  torth  a  companion  pic- 
ture of  a  handsome  young  cavalier,  who  figured  in 
the  gay  world  of  Paris  about  the  same  time,  and 
concerning  whom  the  ancient  Marchioness  writes 
with  the  lingering-  feeling  of  youthful  romance. 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


THE  CHARMING  LETORIERES. 

"  A  GOOD  face  is  a  letter  of  recommendation," 
says  an  old  proverb  ;  and  it  was  never  more  veri- 
fied than  in  the  case  of  the  Chevalier  Letorieres. 
He  was  a  young  gentleman  of  good  family,  but 
who,  according  to  the  Spanish  phrase,  had  nothing 
but  his  cloak  and  sword  (capa  y  espada),  that  is 
to  say,  his  gentle  blood  and  gallant  bearing,  to  help 
him  forward  in  the  world.  Through  the  interest 
of  an  uncle,  who  was  an  abbe",  he  received  a 
gratuitous  education  at  a  fashionable  college,  but 
finding  the  terms  of  study  too  long,  and  the  vaca- 
tions too  short,  for  his  gay  and  indolent  temper, 
he  left  college  without  saying  a  word,  and 
launched  himself  upon  Paris,  with  a  light  heart 
and  still  lighter  pocket.  Here  he  led  a  life  to  his 
humor.  It  is  true  he  had  to  make  scanty  meals, 
and  to  lodge  in  a  garret  ;  but  what  of  that  ?  He 
was  his  own  master  ;  free  from  all  task  or  re- 
straint. When  cold  or  hungry,  he  sallied  forth, 
like  others  of  the  chameleon  order,  and  banqueted 
on  pure  air  and  warm  sunshine  in  the  public 
walks  and  gardens  ;  drove  off  the  thoughts  of  a 
dinner  by  amusing  himself  with  the  gay  and 
grotesque  throngs  of  the  metropolis  ;  and  if  one 
of  the  poorest,  was  one  of  the  merriest  gentlemen 
upon  town.  Wherever  he  went  his  good  looks 
and  frank,  graceful  demeanor,  had  an  instant  and 
magical  effect  in  securing  favor.  There  was  but 
one  word  to  express  his  fascinating  powers — he 
was  "  charming." 

Instances  are  given  of  the  effect  of  his  winning 
qualities  upon  minds  of  coarse,  ordinary  mould. 
He  had  once  taken  shelter  from  a  heavy  shower 
under  a  gateway.  A  hackney  coachman,  who 
was  passing  by,  pulled  up,  and  asked  him  if 
he  wished  a  cast  in  his  carriage.  Letorieres  de- 
clined, with  a  melancholy  and  dubious  shake  of 
the  head.  The  coachman  regarded  him  wistfully, 
repeated  his  solicitations,  and  wished  to  know 
what  place  he  was  going  to.  To  the  Palace  of 
Justice,  to  walk  in  the  galleries  ;  but  I  will  wait 
here  until  the  rain  is  over." 

"  And  why  so  ?"  inquired  the  coachman,  per- 
tinaciously. 

"  Because  I've  no  money  ;  do  let  me  be  quiet." 

The  coachman  jumped  down,  and  opening  the 
door  of  his  carriage,  "  It  shall  never  be  said," 
cried  he,  "  that  I  left  so  charming  a  young  gentle- 
man to  weary  himself,  and  catch  cold,  merely  for 
the  sake  of  twenty-four  sous." 

Arrived  at  the  Palace  of  Justice,  he  stopped  be- 
fore the  saloon  of  a  famous  restaurateur,  opened 
the  door  of  the  carriage,  and  taking  off  his  hat 
very  respectfully,  begged  the  youth  to  accept  of  a 
Louis-d'or.  "  You  will  meet  with  some  young 
gentlemen  within,"  said  he,  "  with  whom  you 
may  wish  to  take  a  hand  at  cards.  The  number 
of  my  coach  is  144.  You  can  find  me  out,  and  re- 
pay me  whenever  you  please." 

The  worthy  Jehu  was  some  years  afterward 
made  coachman  to  the  Princess  Sophia,  of  France, 
through  the  recommendation  of  the  handsome 
youth  he  had  so  generously  obliged. 

Another  instance  in  point  is  given  with  respect 
to  his  tailor,  to  whom  he  owed  four  hundred 
livres.  The  tailor  had  repeatedly  dunned  him,  but 
was  always  put  off  with  the  best  grace  in  the 
world.  The  wife  of  the  tailor  urged  her  husband 
to  assume  a  harsher  tone.  He  replied  that  he 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  speak  roughly  to 
so  charming  a  young  gentleman. 

"  I've  no  patience  with  such  want  of  spirit !" 
cried  the  wife;  "you  have  not  the  courage  to 


show  your  teeth  :  but  I'm  going  out  to  get  change 
for  this  note  of  a  hundred  crowns  ;  before  I  come 
home,  I'll  seek  this  '  charming  '  youth  myself,  and 
see  whether  he  has  the  power  to  charm  me.  I'll 
warrant  he  won't  be  able  to  put  me  off  with  fine 
looks  and  fine  speeches." 

With  these  and  many  more  vaunts,  the  good 
dame  sallied  forth.  When  she  returned  home, 
however,  she  wore  quite  a  different  aspect. 

"  Well,"  said  her  husband,  "  how  much  have 
you  received  from  the  '  charming  '  young  man  ?" 

"  Let  me  alone,  "  replied  the  wife  ;  "  I  found 
him  playing  on  the  guitar,  and  he  looked  so  hand- 
some, and  was  so  amiable  and  genteel,  that  I  had 
not  the  heart  to  trouble  him." 

"And  the  change  for  the  hundred  -  crown 
note  ?"  said  the  tailor. 

The  wife  hesitated  a  moment  :  "  Faith,"  cried 
she,  "  you'll  have  to  add  the  amount  to  your  next 
bill  against  him.  The  poor  young  gentleman  had 
such  a  melancholy  air,  that — I  know  not  how  it 
was,  but — I  left  the  hundred  crowns  on  his 
mantelpiece  in  spite  of  him  !" 

The  captivating  looks  and  manners  of  Leto- 
rieres made  his  way  with  equal  facility  in  the 
great  world.  His  high  connections  entitled  him 
to  presentation  at  court,  but  some  questions  arose 
about  the  sufficiency  of  his  proofs  of  nobility  ; 
whereupon  the  king,  who  had  seen  him  walking 
in  the  gardens  of  Versailles,  and  had  been 
charmed  with  his  appearance,  put  an  end  to  all 
demurs  of  etiquette  by  making  him  a  viscount. 

The  same  kind  of  fascination  is  said  to  have  at- 
tended him  throughout  his  career.  He  succeeded 
in  various  difficult  family  suits  on  questions  of 
honors  and  privileges  ;  he  had  merely  to  appear 
in  court  to  dispose  the  judges  in  his  favor.  He 
at  length  became  so  popular,  that  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  he  appeared  at  the  theatre  on  recover- 
ing from  a  wound  received  in  a  duel,  the  audience 
applauded  him  on  his  entrance.  Nothing,  it  is  said, 
could  have  been  in  more  perfect  good  taste  and 
high  breeding  than  his  conduct  on  this  occasion. 
When  he  heard  the  applause,  he  rose  in  his  box, 
stepped  forward,  and  surveyed  both  sides  of  the 
house,  as  if  he  could  not  believe  that  it  was  him- 
self they  were  treating  like  a  favorite  actor,  or  a 
prince  of  the  blood. 

His  success  with  the  fair  sex  may  easily  be  pre- 
sumed ;  but  he  had  too  much  honor  and  sensi- 
bility to  render  his  intercourse  with  them  a  series 
of  cold  gallantries  and  heartless  triumphs.  In 
the  course  of  his  attendance  upon  court,  where  he 
held  a  post  of  honor  about  the  king,  he  fell  deeply 
in  love  with  the  beautiful  Princess  Julia,  of  Savoy 
Carignan.  She  was  young,  tender,  and  simple- 
hearted,  and  returned  his  love  with  equal  fervor. 
Her  family  took  the  alarm  at  this  attachment,  and 
procured  an  order  that  she  should  inhabit  the 
Abbey  of  Montmartre,  where  she  was  treated  with 
all  befitting  delicacy  and  distinction,  but  not  per- 
mitted to  go  beyond  the  convent  walls.  The 
lovers  found  means  to  correspond.  One  of  their 
letters  was  intercepted,  and  it  is  even  hinted  that 
a  plan  of  elopement  was  discovered.  A  duel  was 
the  consequence,  with  one  of  the  fiery  relations  of 
the  princess.  Letorieres  received  two  sword- 
thrusts  in  his  right  side.  His  wounds  were  seri- 
ous, yet  after  two  or  three  days'  confinement  he 
could  not  resist  his  impatience  to  see  the  princess. 
He  succeeded  in  scaling  the  walls  of  the  abbey, 
and  obtaining  an  interview  in  an  arcade  leading 
to  the  cloister  of  the  cemetery.  The  interview  of 
the  lovers  was  long  and  tender.  They  exchanged 
vows  of  eternal  fidelity,  and  flattered  themselves 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


413 


with  hopes  of  future  happiness,  which  they  were 
never  to  realize.  After  repeated  farewells,  the 
princess  re-entered  the  convent,  never  again  to 
behold  the  charming  Letorieres.  On  the  follow- 
ing morning  his  corpse  was  found  stiff  and  cold 
on  the  pavement  of  the  cloister  ! 

It  would  seem  that  the  wounds  of  the  unfortu- 
nate youth  had  been  reopened  by  his  efforts  to 
get  over  the  wall  ;  that  he  had  refrained  from 
calling  assistance,  lest  he  should  expose  the  prin- 
cess, and  that  he  had  bled  to  death,  without  any 
one  to  aid  him,  or  to  close  his  dying  eyes. 


THE    EARLY 


EXPERIENCES   OF 
RINGWOOD,* 


RALPH 


NOTED   DOWN   FROM   HIS   CONVERSATIONS. 

"  I  AM  a  Kentuckian  by  residence  and  choice, 
but  a  Virginian  by  birth.  The  cause  of  my  first 
leaving  the  '  Ancient  Dominion,'  and  emigrating 
to  Kentucky  was  a  jackass  !  You  stare,  but  have 
a  little  patience,  and  I'll  soon  show  you  how  it 
came  to  pass.  My  father,  who  was  of  one  of  the 
old  Virginian  families,  resided  in  Richmond.  He 
was  a  widower,  and  his  domestic  affairs  were 
managed  by  a  housekeeper  of  the  old  school, 
such  as  used  to  administer  the  concerns  of 
opulent  Virginian  households.  She  was  a  digni- 
tary that  almost  rivalled  my  father  in  importance, 
and  seemed  to  think  everything  belonged  to  her  ; 
in  fact,  she  was  so  considerate  in  her  economy, 
and  so  careful  of  expense,  as  sometimes  to  vex  my 
father,  who  would  swear  she  was  disgracing  him 
by  her  meanness.  She  always  appeared  with  that 
ancient  insignia  of  housekeeping  trust  and  au- 
thority, a  great  bunch  of  keys  jingling  at  her  gir- 
dle. She  superintended  the  arrangement  of  the 
table  at  every  meal,  and  saw  that  the  dishes  were 
all  placed  according  to  her  primitive  notions  of 
symmetry.  In  the  evening  she  took  her  stand  and 
served  out  tea  with  a  mingled  respectfulness  and 
pride  of  station,  truly  exemplary.  Her  great  am- 
bition was  to  have  everything  in  order,  and  that 
the  establishment  under  her  sway  should  be  cited 
as  a  model  of  good  housekeeping.  If  anything 
went  wrong,  poor  old  Barbara  would  take  it  to 
heart,  and  sit  in  her  room  and  cry  ;  until  a  few 
chapters  in  the  Bible  would  quiet  her  spirits,  and 
make  all  calm  again.  The  Bible,  in  fact,  was 
her  constant  resort  in  time  ot  trouble.  She  opened 
it  indiscriminately,  and  whether  she  chanced 
among-  the  Lamentations  of  Jeremiah,  the  Canti- 
cles ot  Solomon,  or  the  rough  enumeration  ot  the 
tribes  in  Deuteronomy,  a  chapter  was  a  chapter, 
and  operated  like  balm  to  her  soul.  Such  was 
our  good  old  housekeeper  Barbara,  who  was 
destined,  unwittingly,  to  have  a  most  important 
effect  upon  my  destiny. 

"  It  came  to  pass,  during  the  days  of  my  juve- 
nility, while  I  was  yet  what  is  termed  '  an  unlucky 


*  Ralph  Ringwood,  though  a  fictitious  name,  is  a 
leal  personage  :  the  worthy  original  is  now  living 
and  flourishing  in  honorable  station.  I  have  given 
some  anecdotes  of  his  early  and  eccentric  career  in,  as 
nearly  as  I  can  recollect,  the  very  words  in  which  he 
related  them.  They  certainly  afforded  strong  tempta- 
tions to  the  embellishments  of  fiction;  but  I  thought 
them  so  strikingly  characteristic  of  the  individual, 
and  of  the  scenes  and  society  into  which  his  peculiar 
humors  carried  him,  that  I  preferred  giving  them  in 
their  original  simplicity. — G.  C. 


boy,1  that  a  gentleman  of  our  neighborhood,  a 
great  advocate  for  experiments  and  improvements 
of  all  kinds,  took  it  into  his  head  that  it  would  be 
an  immense  public  advantage  to  introduce  a 
breed  of  mules,  and  accordingly  imported  three 
jacks  to  stock  the  neighborhood.  This  in  a  part 
ot  the  country  where  the  people  cared  for  nothing 
but  blood  horses  !  Why,  sir  !  they  would  have  con- 
sidered their  mares  disgraced  and  their  whole  stud 
dishonored  by  such  a  misalliance.  The  whole  mat- 
ter was  a  town  talk  and  a  town  scandal.  The  wor- 
thy amalgamator  ot  quadrupeds  found  himself  in  a 
dismal  scrape  :  so  he  backed  out  in  time,  abjured 
the  whole  doctrine  of  amalgamation,  and  turned 
his  jacks  loose  to  shift  for  themselves  upon  the 
town  common.  There  they  used  to  run  about 
and  lead  an  idle,  good-for-nothing,  holiday  life, 
the  happiest  animals  in  the  country. 

"It  so  happened  that  my  way  to  school  lay 
across  this  common.  The  first  time  that  I  saw 
one  of  these  animals  it  set  up  a  braying  and 
frightened  me  confoundedly.  However,  1  soon 
got  over  my  fright,  and  seeing  that  it  had  some- 
thing of  a  horse  look,  my  Virginian  love  for  any- 
thing of  the  equestrian  species  predominated,  and 
I  determined  to  back  it.  I  accordingly  applied  at 
a  grocer's  shop,  procured  a  cord  that  had  been 
round  a  loaf  of  sugar,  and  made  a  kind  of  halter  ; 
then  summoning  some  of  my  school-fellows,  we 
drove  master  Jack  about  the  common  until  we 
hemmed  him  in  an  angle  of:  a  '  worm  lence.' 
After  some  difficulty,  we  fixed  the  halter  round 
his  muzzle,  and  I  mounted.  Up  flew  his  heels, 
away  I  went  over  his  head,  and  off  he  scampered. 
However,  I  was  on  my  legs  in  a  twinkling,  gave 
chase,  caught  him  and  remounted.  By  dint  of 
repeated  tumbles  I  soon  learned  to  stick  to  his 
back,  so  that  he  could  no  more  cast  me  than  he 
could  his  own  skin.  From  that  time,  master  Jack 
and  his  companions  had  a  scampering  lite  of  it, 
for  we  all  rode  them  between  school  hours,  and 
on  holiday  afternoons  ;  and  you  may  be  sure 
school-boys'  nags  are  never  permitted  to  suffer 
the  grass  to  grow  under  their  feet.  They  soon 
became  so  knowing  that  they  took  to  their  heels 
at  the  very  sight  of  a  school-boy  ;  and  we  were 
generally  much  longer  in  chasing  than  we  were 
in  riding  them. 

"  Sunday  approached,  on  which  I  projected  an 
equestrian  excursion  on  one  of  these  long-eared 
steeds.  As  I  knew  the  jacks  would  be  in  great 
demand  on  Sunday  morning,  I  secured  one  over 
night,  and  conducted  him  home,  to  be  ready  for 
an  early  outset.  But  where  was  I  to  quarter  him 
tor  the  night  ?  I  could  not  put  him  in  the  stable  ; 
our  old  black  groom  George  was  as  absolute  in  that 
domain  as  Barbara  was  within  doors,  and  would 
have  thought  his  stable,  his  horses,  and  himself 
disgraced,  by  the  introduction  of  a  jackass.  I 
recollected  the  smoke-house  ;  an  out-building  ap- 
pended to  all  Virginian  establishments  for  the 
smoking  of  hams,  and  other  kinds  of  meat.  So  I 
got  the  key,  put  master  Jack  in,  locked  the  door, 
returned  the  key  to  its  place,  and  went  to  bed,  in- 
tending to  release  my  prisoner  at  an  early  hour, 
before  any  of  the  family  were  awake.  I  was  so 
tired,  however,  by  the  exertions  I  had  made  in 
catching  the  donkey,  that  I  fell  into  a  sound 
sleep,  and  the  morning  broke  without  my  awak- 
ing. 

"  Not  so  with  dame  Barbara,  the  housekeeper. 
As  usual,  to  use  her  own  phrase,  '  she  was  up  be- 
fore the  crow  put  his  shoes  on,'  and  bustled  about 
to  get  things  in  order  for  breakfast.  Her  first  re- 
sort was  to  the  smoke-house.  Scarce  had  she 


414 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


opened  the  door,  when  master  Jack,  tired  of  his 
confinement,  and  glad  to  be  released  from  dark- 
ness, gave  a  loud  bray,  and  rushed  forth.  Down 
dropped  old  Barbara  ;  the  animal  trampled  over 
her,  and  made  off  for  the  common.  Poor  Bar- 
bara !  She  had  never  before  seen  a  donkey,  and 
having  read  in  the  Bible  that  the  devil  went  about 
like  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  might  de- 
vour, she  took  it  for  granted  that  this  was  Beelze- 
bub himself.  The  kitchen  was  soon  in  a  hubbub  ; 
the  servants  hurried  to  the  spot.  There  lay  old 
Barbara  in  fits  ;  as  last  as  she  got  out  of  one,  the 
thoughts  of  the  devil  came  over  her,  and  she  fell 
into  another,  for  the  good  soul  was  devoutly 
superstitious. 

"  As  ill  luck  would  have  it,  among  those  at- 
tracted by  the  noise  was  a  little,  cursed,  fidgety, 
crabbed  uncle  of  mine  ;  one  of  those  uneasy 
spirits  that  cannot  rest  quietly  in  their  beds  in 
the  morning,  but  must  be  up  early,  to  bother  the 
household.  He  was  only  a  kind  of  half-uncle, 
after  all,  for  he  had  married  my  father's  sister  ; 
yet  he  assumed  great  authority  on  the  strength  of 
this  left-handed  relationship,  and  was  a  universal 
intermeddler  and  family  pest.  This  prying  little 
busybody  soon  ferreted  out  the  truth  of  the  story, 
and  discovered,  by  hook  and  by  crook,  that  I  was 
at  the  bottom  of  the  affair,  and  had  locked  up  the 
donkey  in  the  smoke-house.  He  stopped  to  in- 
quire no  farther,  for  he  was  one  of  those  testy 
curmudgeons  with  whom  unlucky  boys  are 
always  in  the  wrong.  Leaving  old  Barbara  to 
wrestle  in  imagination  with  the  devil,  he  made  for 
my  bed-chamber,  where  I  still  lay  wrapped  in 
rosy  slumbers,  little  dreaming  of  the  mischief  I 
had  done,  and  the  storm  about  to  break  over  me. 

"  In  an  instant  I  was  awakened  by  a  shower  of 
thwacks,  and  started  up  in  wild  amazement.  I 
demanded  the  meaning  of  this  attack,  but  re- 
ceived no  other  reply  than  that  I  had  murdered 
the  housekeeper  ;  while  my  uncle  continued 
whacking  away  during  my  confusion.  I  seized  a 
poker,  and  put  myself  on  the  defensive.  1  was  a 
stout  boy  for  my  years,  while  my  uncle  was  a  lit- 
tle wiffet  of  a  man  ;  one  that  in  Kentucky  we 
would  not  call  even  an  '  individual  ;  '  nothing 
more  than  a  '  remote  circumstance.'  I  soon, 
therefore,  brought  him  to  a  parley,  and  learned 
the  whole  extent  of  the  charge  brought  against 
me.  I  confessed  to  the  donkey  and  the  smoke- 
house, but  pleaded  not  guilty  of  the  murder  of  the 
housekeeper.  I  soon  found  out  that  old  Barbara 
was  still  alive.  She  continued  under  the  doctor's 
hands,  however,  for  several  days  ;  and  whenever 
she  had  an  ill  turn  my  uncle -would  seek  to  give 
me  another  flogging.  I  appealed  to  my  father, 
but  got  no  redress.  I  was  considered  an  '  un- 
lucky boy/  prone  to  all  kinds  of  mischief  ;  so  that 
prepossessions  were  against  me  in  all  cases  of  ap- 
peal. 

"  I  felt  stung  to  the  soul  at  all  this.  I  had 
been  beaten,  degraded,  and  treated  with  slighting 
when  I  complained.  I  lost  my  usual  good  spirits 
and  good  humor  ;  and,  being  out  of  temper  with 
everybody,  fancied  everybody  out  of  temper  with 
me.  A  certain  wild,  roving  spirit  of  freedom, 
which  I  believe  is  as  inherent  in  me  as  it  is  in  the 
partridge,  was  brought  into  sudden  activity  by 
the  checks  and  restraints  I  suffered.  '  I'll  go 
from  home,'  thought  I,  'and  shift  for  myself.' 
Perhaps  this  notion  was  quickened  by  the  rage  for 
emigrating  to  Kentucky,  which  was  at  that  time 
prevalent  in  Virginia.  I  had  heard  such  stories 
of  the  romantic  beauties  of  the  country  ;  of  the 
abundance  of  game  of  all  kinds,  and  of  the  glori- 


ous independent  life  of  the  hunters  who  ranged  its 
noble  forests,  and  lived  by  the  rifle  ;  that  I  was 
as  much  agog  to  get  there  as  boys  who  live  in  sea- 
ports are  to  launch  themselves  among  the  won- 
ders and  adventures  of  the  ocean. 

"  After  a  time  old  Barbara  got  better  in  mind 
and  body,  and  matters  were  explained  to  her  ; 
and  she  became  gradually  convinced  that  it  was 
not  the  devil  she  had  encountered.  When  she 
heard  how  harshly  I  had  been  treated  on  her  ac- 
count, the  good  old  soul  was  extremely  grieved, 
and  spoke  warmly  to  my  lather  in  my  behalf. 
He  had  himself  remarked  the  change  in  my  be- 
havior, and  thought  punishment  might  have  been 
carried  too  far.  He  sought,  therefore,  to  have 
some  conversation  with  me,  and  to  soothe  my 
feelings  ;  but  it  was  too  late.  I  frankly  told  him 
the  course  of  mortification  that  I  had  experienced, 
and  the  fixed  determination  I  had  made  to  go 
from  home. 

'  '  And  where  do  you  mean  to  go  ?  ' 

"  '  To  Kentucky.' 

"  '  To  Kentucky  !  Why,  you  know  nobody 
there.' 

'  '  No  matter  :  I  can  soon  make  acquaintances.' 

"  '  And  what  will  you  do  when  you  get  there  ?  ' 

"'Hunt!1 

"  My  father  gave  a  long,  low  whistle,  and 
looked  in  my  face  with  a  serio-comic  expression. 
I  was  not  far  in  my  teens,  and  to  talk  of  setting 
off  alone  for  Kentucky,  to  turn  hunter,  seemed 
doubtless  the  idle  prattle  of  a  boy.  He  was  little 
aware  of  the  dogged  resolution  of  my  character  ; 
and  his  smile  of  incredulity  but  fixed  me  more 
obstinately  in  my  purpose.  I  assured  him  I  was 
serious  in  what  I  said,  and  would  certainly  set  off 
for  Kentucky  in  the  spring. 

"  Month  after  month  passed  away.  My  father 
now  and  then-  adverted  slightly  to  what  had 
passed  between  us  ;  doubtless  for  the  purpose  of 
sounding  me.  I  always  expressed  the  same  grave 
and  fixed  determination.  By  degrees  he  spoke  to 
me  more  directly  on  the  subject,  endeavoring 
earnestly  but  kindly  to  dissuade  me.  My  only 
reply  was,  '  I  had  made  up  my  mind.' 

"  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  the  spring  had  fairly 
opened,  I  sought  him  one  day  in  his  study,  and 
informed  him  I  was  about  to  set  out  for  Kentucky, 
and  had  come  to  take  my  leave.  He  made  no  ob- 
jection, for  he  had  exhausted  persuasion  and 
remonstrance,  and  doubtless  thought  it  best  to 
give  way  to  my  humor,  trusting  that  a  little  rough 
experience  would  soon  bring  me  home  again.  I 
asked  money  for  my  journey.  He  went  to  a 
chest,  took  out  a  long  green  silk  purse,  well  filled, 
and  laid  it  on  the  table.  I  now  asked  for  a  horse 
and  servant. 

"  '  A  horse  !  '  said  my  father,  sneeringly  : 
'  why,  you  would  not  go  a  mile  without  racing 
him,  and  breaking  your  neck  ;  and,  as  to  a  ser- 
vant, you  cannot  take  care  of  yourself,  much  less 
of  him.' 

"  '  How  am  I  to  travel,  then  ? ' 

"  '  Why,  1  suppose  you  are  man  enough  to 
travel  on  foot.' 

"  He  spoke  jestingly,  little  thinking  I  would 
take  him  at  his  word  ;  but  I  was  thoroughly 
piqued  in  respect  to  my  enterprise  ;  so  I  pocketed 
the  purse,  went  to  my  room,  tied  up  three  or  four 
shirts  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  put  a  dirk  in  my 
bosom,  girt  a  couple  of  pistols  round  my  waist, 
and  felt  like  a  knight  errant  armed  cap-a-pie,  and 
ready  to  rove  the  world  in  quest  of  adventures. 

"  My  sister  (I  had  but  one)  hung  round  me  and 
wept,  and  entreated  me  to  stay.  I  felt  my  heart 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


415 


swell  in  my  throat  ;  but  I  gulped  it  back  to  its 
place,  and  straightened  myselt  up  :  I  would  not 
suffer  myself  to  cry.  I  at  length  disengaged  my- 
self from  her,  and  got  to  the  door. 

"  '  When  will  you  come  back  ?  '  cried  she. 

"  '  Never,  by  heavens  !  '  cried  I,  '  until  I  come 
back  a  member  of  Congress  from  Kentucky.  I 
am  determined  to  show  that  I  am  not  the  tail-end 
of  the  family.' 

"Such  was  my  first  outset  from  home.  You 
may  suppose  what  a  greenhorn  I  was,  and  how 
little  I  knew  of  the  world  I  was  launching  into. 

"  I  do  not  recollect  any  incident  of  importance, 
until  I  reached  the  borders  of  Pennsylvania.  I 
had  stopped  at  an  inn  to  get  some  refreshment ; 
and  as  I  was  eating  in  the  back  room,  I  overheard 
two  men  in  the  bar-room  conjecture  who  and 
what  I  could  be.  One  determined,  at  length, 
that  I  was  a  run-away  apprentice,  and  ought  to 
be  stopped,  to  which  the  other  assented.  When 
I  had  finished  my  meal,  and  paid  for  it,  I  went 
out  at  the  back  door,  lest  I  should  be  stopped  by 
my  supervisors.  Scorning,  however,  to  steal  off 
like  a  culprit,  I  walked  round  to  the  front  of  the 
house.  One  of  the  men  advanced  to  the  front 
door.  He  wore  his  hat  on  one  side,  and  had  a 
consequential  air  that  nettled  me. 

'  Where   are    you    going,    youngster  ?  '     de- 
manded he. 

'  That's    none  of  your  business  ! '  replied    I, 
rather  pertly. 

'  Yes,  but  it  is,  though  !     You  have  run  away 
from  home,  and  must  give  an  account  of  yourself.' 

"  He  advanced  to  seize  me,  when  I  drew  forth 
a  pistol.  '  If  you  advance  another  step,  I'll  shoot 
you  !  ' 

"  He  sprang  back  as  if  he  had  trodden  upon  a 
rattlesnake,  and  his  hat  fell  off  in  the  movement. 

"  '  Let  him  alone  ! '  cried  his  companion  ; 
'  he's  a  foolish,  mad-headed  boy,  and  don't  know 
what  he's  about.  He'll  shoot  you,  you  may  rely 
on  it.' 

"  He  did  not  need  any  caution  in  the  matter  ; 
he  was  afraid  even  to  pick  up  his  hat  :  so  I 
pushed  forward  on  my  way,  without  molestation. 
This  incident,  however,  had  its  effect  upon  me.  I 
became  fearful  of  sleeping  in  any  house  at  night, 
lest  I  should  be  stopped.  I  took  my  meals  in  the 
houses,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  but  would  turn 
aside  at  night  into  some  wood  or  ravine,  make  a 
fire,  and  sleep  before  it.  This  I  considered  was 
true  hunter's  style,  and  I  wished  to  inure  myself 
to  it. 

"  At  length  I  arrived  at  Brownsville,  leg-weary 
and  way-worn,  and  in  a  shabby  plight,  as  you 
may  suppose,  having  been  '  camping  out '  for 
some  nights  past.  I  applied  at  some  of  the  inferior 
inns,  but  could  gain  no  admission.  I  was  regarded 
for  a  moment  with  a  dubious  eye,  and  then  in- 
formed they  did  not  receive  foot-passengers.  At 
last  I  went  boldly  to  the  principal  inn.  The  land- 
lord appeared  as  unwilling  as  the  rest  to  receive  a 
vagrant  boy  beneath  his  roof  ;  but  his  wife  inter- 
fered in  the  midst  of  his  excuses,  and  half  elbow- 
ing him  aside  : 

'  Where  are  you  going,  my  lad  ? '  said  she. 
'  To  Kentucky.' 

'  What  are  you  going  there  for  ?  ' 
'  To  hunt.' 

'  She  looked  earnestly  at  me  for  a  moment  or 
two.  '  Have  you  a  mother  living  ?  '  said  she  at 
length. 

'  '  No,  madam  :  she  has  been  dead  for  some 
time.' 

'  '  I  thought  so  ! '  cried  she  warmly.     '  I  knew 


if  you  had  a  mother  living  you  would  not  be 
here.'  From  that  moment  the  good  woman  treat- 
ed me  with  a  mother's  kindness. 

"  I  remained  several  days  beneath  her  roof  re- 
covering from  the  fatigue  of  my  journey.  While 
here  I  purchased  a  rifle  and  practised  daily  at  a 
mark  to  prepare  myselt  for  a  hunter's  Hie.  When 
sufficiently  recruited  in  strength  I  took  leave  of 
my  kind  host  and  hostess  and  resumed  my  jour- 
ney. 

"At  Wheeling  I  embarked  in  a  flat-bottomed  fam- 
ily boat,  technically  called  a  broad-horn,  a  prime 
river  conveyance  in  those  days.  In  this  ark  lor 
two  weeks  I  floated  down  the  Ohio.  The  river 
was  as  yet  in  all  its  wild  beauty.  Its  loftiest  trees 
had  not  been  thinned  out.  The  forest  overhung 
the  water's  edge  and  was  occasionally  skirted  by 
immense  cane-brakes.  Wild  animals  of  all  kinds 
abounded.  We  heard  them  rushing  through  the 
thickets  and  plashing  in  the  water.  Deer  and 
bears  would  frequently  swim  across  the  river  ; 
others  would  come  down  to  the  bank  and  gaze 
at  the  boat  as  it  passed.  I  was  incessantly  on  the 
alert  with  my  rifle  ;  but  somehow  or  other  the 
game  was  never  within  shot.  Sometimes  I  got  a 
chance  to  land  and  try  my  skill  on  shore.  I  shot 
squirrels  and  small  birds  and  even  wild  turkeys  ; 
but  though  I  caught  glimpses  of  deer  bounding 
away  through  the  woods,  I  never  could  get  a  fair 
shot  at  them. 

"  In  this  way  we  glided  in  our  broad-horn  past 
Cincinnati,  the  '  Queen  of  the  West '  as  she  is 
now  called,  then  a  mere  group  of  log  cabins  ; 
and  the  site  of  the  bustling  city  of  Louisville,  then 
designated  by  a  solitary  house.  As  I  said  before, 
the  Ohio  was  as  yet  a  wild  river  ;  all  was  forest, 
forest,  forest  !  Near  the  confluence  of  Green 
River  with  the  Ohio,  I  landed,  bade  adieu  to  the  i 
broad-horn,  and  struck  for  the  interior  of  Ken- 
tucky. I  had  no  precise  plan  ;  my  only  idea  was 
to  make  for  one  of  the  wildest  parts  of  the  coun- 
try. I  had  relatives  in  Lexington  and  other  settled 
places,  to  whom  I  thought  it  probable  my  father 
would  write  concerning  me  :  so  as  I  was  full  of 
manhood  and  independence,  and  resolutely  bent 
on  making  my  way  in  the  world  without  assist- 
ance or  control,  I  resolved  to  keep  clear  of  them 
all. 

"  In  the  course  of  my  first  day's  trudge,  I  shot 
a  wild  turkey,  and  slung  it  on  my  back  for  provi- 
sions. The  forest  was  open  and  clear  from  under- 
wood. I  saw  deer  in  abundance,  but  always  run- 
ning, running.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  these 
animals  never  stood  still. 

"  At  length  I  came  to  where  a  gang  of  half- 
starved  wolves  were  feasting  on  the  carcass  of  a 
deer  which  they  had  run  down  ;  and  snarling  and 
snapping  and  fighting  like  so  many  dogs.  They 
were  all  so  ravenous  and  intent  upon  their  prey 
that  they  did  not  notice  me,  and  I  had  time  to 
make  my  observations.  One,  larger  and  fiercer 
than  the  rest,  seemed  to  claim  the  larger  share, 
and  to  keep  the  others  in  awe.  If  any  one  came 
too  near  him  while  eating,  he  would  fly  off,  seize 
and  shake  him,  and  then  return  to  his  repast. 
'  This,'  thought  I,  '  must  be  the  captain  ;  if  I  can 
kill  him,  I  shall  defeat  the  whole  army.'  I  ac- 
cordingly took  aim,  fired,  and  down  dropped  the 
old  fellow.  He  might  be  only  shamming  dead  ; 
so  I  loaded  and  put  a  second  ball  through  him. 
He  never  budged  ;  all  the  rest  ran  off,  and  my 
victory  was  complete. 

"  It  would  not  be  easy  to  describe  my  triumph- 
ant feelings  on  this  great  achievement.  I 
marched  on  with  renovated  spirit,  regarding  my- 


416 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


self  as  absolute  lord  of  the  forest.  As  night  drew 
near,  I  prepared  for  camping.  My  first  care  was 
to  collect  dry  wood  and  make  a  roaring  fire  to 
cook  and  sleep  by,  and  to  frighten  off  wolves, 
and  bears,  and  panthers.  I  then  began  to  pluck 
my  turkey  for  supper.  I  had  camped  out  several 
times  in  the  early  part  of  my  expedition  ;  but  that 
was  in  comparatively  more  settled  and  civilized 
regions,  where  there  were  no  wild  animals  of 
consequence  in  the  forest.  This  was  my  first 
camping  out  in  the  real  wilderness  ;  and  I  was 
soon  made  sensible  of  the  loneliness  and  wildness 
of  my  situation. 

"  In  a  little  while  a  concert  of  wolves  com- 
menced :  there  might  have  been  a  dozen  or  two, 
but  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  there  were  thousands. 
I  never  heard  such  howling  and  whining.  Hav- 
ing prepared  my  turkey,  I  divided  it  into  two 
parts,  thrust  two  sticks  into  one  of  the  halves,  and 
planted  them  on  end  before  the  fire,  the  hunter's 
mode  of  roasting.  The  smell  of  roast  meat  quick- 
ened the  appetites  of  the  wolves,  and  their  concert 
became  truly  infernal.  They  seemed  to  be  all 
around  me,  but  I  could  only  now  and  then  get  a 
glimpse  of  one  of  them,  as  he  came  within  the 
glare  of  the  light. 

"  I  did  not  much  care  for  the  wolves,  who  I 
knew  to  be  a  cowardly  race,  but  I  had  heard  ter- 
rible stories  of  panthers,  and  began  to  fear  their 
stealthy  prowlings  in  the  surrounding  darkness. 
I  was  thirsty,  and  heard  a  brook  bubbling  and 
tinkling  along  at  no  great  distance,  but  absolutely 
dared  not  go  there,  lest  some  panther  might  lie  in 
wait,  and  spring  upon  me.  By  and  by  a  deer 
whistled.  I  had  never  heard  one  before,  and 
thought  it  must  be  a  panther.  I  now  felt  uneasy 
lest  he  might  climb  the  trees,  crawl  along  the 
branches  overhead,  and  plump  down  upon  me  ; 
so  I  kept  my  eyes  fixed  on  the  branches,  until  my 
head  ached.  I  more  than  once  thought  I  saw 
fiery  eyes  glaring  down  from  among  the  leaves. 
At  length  I  thought  of  my  supper  and  turned  to 
see  if  my  half-turkey  was  cooked.  In  crowding 
so  near  the  fire  I  had  pressed  the  meat  into  the 
flames,  and  it  was  consumed.  I  had  nothing  to 
do  but  toast  the  other  half,  and  take  better  care  of 
it.  On  that  half  I  made  my  supper,  without  salt 
or  bread.  I  was  still  so  possessed  with  the 
dread  of  panthers,  that  I  could  not  close  my  eyes 
all  night,  but  lay  watching  the  trees  until  day- 
break, when  all  my  fears  were  dispelled  with  the 
darkness  ;  and  as  I  saw  the  morning  sun  spark- 
ling down  through  the  branches  of  the  trees,  I 
smiled  to  think  how  I  had  suffered  myself  to  be 
dismayed  by  sounds  and  shadows  :  but  I  was  a 
young  woodsman,  and  a  stranger  in  Kentucky. 

"  Having  breakfasted  on  the  remainder  of  my 
turkey,  and  slaked  my  thirst  at  the  bubbling 
stream,  without  further  dread  of  panthers,  I  re- 
sumed my  wayfaring  with  buoyant  feelings.  I 
again  saw  deer,  but  as  usual  running,  running  ! 
I  tried  in  vain  to  get  a  shot  at  them,  and  began  to 
fear  I  never  should.  I  was  gazing  with  vexation 
after  a  herd  in  full  scamper,  when  I  was  startled 
by  a  human  voice.  Turning  round,  I  saw  a  man 
at  a  short  distance  from  me,  in  a  hunting  dress. 
'  What  are  you  after,  my  lad  ?  '  cried  he. 

"  '  Those  deer,'  replied  I,  pettishly  ;  '  but  it 
seems  as  it  they  never  stand  still.' 

"  Upon  that  he  burst  out  laughing.  '  Where 
are  you  from? '  said  he. 

"  '  From  Richmond." 

"  '  What  !     In  old  Virginny  ?  ' 

"  '  The  same.' 

"  '  And  how  on  earth  did  you  get  here  ?  ' 


"  '  I  landed  at  Green  River  from  a  broad-horn.' 
'  '  And  where  are  your  companions  ?  ' 

"  '  I  have  none.' 

"  '  What  ?— all  alone  !  ' 

"  'Yes.' 

"  '  Where  are  you  going  ?  ' 

"  '  Anywhere.' 

"  '  And  what  have  you  come  here  for  ? ' 

"  '  To  hunt.' 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  laughingly,  '  you'll  make  a 
real  hunter  ;  there's  no  mistaking  that  !  Have 
you  killed  anything  ?  ' 

"'Nothing  but  a  turkey;  I  can't  get  within 
shot  of  a  deer  :  they  are  always  running." 

"  '  Oh,  I'll  tell  you  the  secret  of  that.  You're 
always  pushing  forward,  and  starting  the  deer  at 
a  distance,  and  gazing  at  those  that  are  scamper- 
ing ;  but  you  must  step  as  slow,  and  silent,  and 
cautious  as  a  cat,  and  keep  your  eyes  close 
arSund  you,  and  lurk  from  tree  to  tree,  if  you  wish 
to  get  a  chance  at  deer.  But  come,  go  home 
with  me.  My  name  is  Bill  Smithers  ;  I  live  not 
far  off  :  stay  with  me  a  little  while,  and  I'll  teach 
you  how  to  hunt.' 

"  I  gladly  accepted  the  invitation  of  honest  Bill 
Smithers.  We  soon  reached  his  habitation  ;  a 
mere  log  hut,  with  a  square  hole  for  a  window 
and  a  chimney  made  of  sticks  and  clay.  Here  he 
lived,  with  a  wife  and  child.  He  had  '  girdled  ' 
the  trees  for  an  acre  or  two  around,  preparatory 
to  clearing  a  space  for  corn  and  potatoes.  In  the 
mean  time  he  maintained  his  family  entirely  by  his 
rifle,  and  I  soon  found  him  to  be  a  first-rate  hunts- 
man. Under  his  tutelage  I  received  my  first 
effective  lessons  in  '  woodcraft.' 

"  The  more  I  knew  of  a  hunter's  life,  the  more 
I  relished  it.  The  country,  too,  which  had  been 
the  promised  land  of  my  boyhood,  did  not,  like 
most  promised  lands,  disappoint  me.  No  wilder- 
ness could  be  more  beautiful  than  this  part  of 
Kentucky,  in  those  times.  The  forests  were  open 
and  spacious,  with  noble  trees,  some  of  which 
looked  as  if  they  had  stood  for  centuries.  There 
were  beautiful  prairies,  too,  diversified  with 
groves  and  clumps  of  trees,  which  looked  like 
vast  parks,  and  in  which  you  could  see  the  deer 
running,  at  a  great  distance.  In  the  proper  sea- 
son these  prairies  would  be  covered  in  many 
places  with  wild  strawberries,  where  your  horses' 
hoofs  would  be  dyed  to  the  fetlock.  I  thought 
there  could  not  be  another  place  in  the  world 
equal  to  Kentucky — and  I  think  so  still. 

"  After  I  had  passed  ten  or  twelve  days  with 
Bill  Smithers,  I  thought  it  time  to  shift  my  quar- 
ters, for  his  house  was  scarce  large  enough  for  his 
own  family,  and  I  had  no  idea  of  being  an  incum- 
brance  to  any  one.  I  accordingly  made  up  my 
bundle,  shouldered  my  rifle,  took  a  friendly  leave 
of  Smithers  and  his  wife,  and  set  out  in  quest  of  a 
Nimrod  of  the  wilderness,  one  John  Miller,  who 
lived  alone,  nearly  forty  miles  off,  and  who  I 
hoped  would  be  well  pleased  to  have  a  hunting 
companion. 

"  I  soon  found  out  that  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant items  in  woodcraft  in  a  new  country  was  the 
skill  to  find  one's  way  in  the  wilderness.  There 
were  no  regular  roads  in  the  forests,  but  they 
were  cut  up  and  perplexed  by  paths  leading  in  all 
directions.  Some  of  these  were  made  by  the  cat- 
tle of  the  settlers,  and  were  called  '  stock-tracks," 
but  others  had  been  made  by  the  immense  droves 
of  buffaloes  which  roamed  about  the  country, 
from  the  flood  until  recent  times.  These  were 
called  buffalo-tracks,  and  traversed  Kentucky  from 
end  to  end,  like  highways.  Traces  of  them  may 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


417 


still  be  seen  in  uncultivated  parts,  or  deeply  worn 
in  the  rocks  where  they  crossed  the  mountains. 
I  was  a  young-  woodsman,  and  sorely  puzzled  to 
distinguish  one  kind  of  track  from  the  other,  or  to 
make  out  my  course  through  this  tangled  laby- 
rinth. While  thus  perplexed,  I  heard  a  distant 
roaring-  and  rushing  sound  ;  a  gloom  stole  over 
the  forest  :  on  looking  up,  when  I  could  catch  a 
stray  glimpse  of  the  sky,  I  beheld  the  clouds  rolled 
up  like  balls,  the  lower  parts  as  black  as  ink. 
There  was  now  and  then  an  explosion,  like  a 
burst  of  cannonry  afar  off,  and  the  crash  of  a  fall- 
ing- tree.  I  had  heard  of  hurricanes  in  the  woods, 
and  surmised  that  one  was  at  hand.  It  soon 
came  crashing-  its  way  ;  the  forest  writhing,  and 
twisting-,  and  groaning-  before  it.  The  hurricane 
did  not  extend  far  on  either  side,  but  in  a  manner 
ploughed  a  furrow  through  the  woodland  ;  snap- 
ping off  or  uprooting  trees  that  had  stood  for  cen- 
turies, and  filling-  the  air  with  whirling  branches. 
I  was  directly  in  its  course,  and  took  my  stand 
behind  an  immense  poplar,  six  feet  in  diameter. 
It  bore  for  a  time  the  full  fury  of  the  blast,  but  at 
length  began  to  yield.  Seeing  it  falling,  I  scram- 
bled nimbly  round  the  trunk  like  a  squirrel. 
Down  it  went,  bearing  down  another  tree  with  it. 
I  crept  under  the  trunk  as  a  shelter,  and  was  pro- 
tected from  other  trees  which  fell  around  me,  but 
was  sore  all  over  from  the  twigs  and  branches 
driven  against  me  by  the  blast. 

"  This  was  the  only  incident  of  consequence 
that  occurred  on  my  way  to  John  Miller's,  where 
I  arrived  on  the  following  day,  and  was  received 
by  the  veteran  with  the  rough  kindness  of  a  back- 
woodsman. He  was  a  gray-haired  man,  hardy 
and  weather-beaten,  with  a  blue  wart,  like  a  great 
beard,  over  one  eye,  whence  he  was  nicknamed 
by  the  hunters  '  Bluebeard  Miller.'  He  had  been 
in  these  parts  from  the  earliest  settlements,  and 
had  signalized  himself  in  the  hard  conflicts  with 
the  Indians,  which  gained  Kentucky  the  appella- 
tion of  '  the  Bloody  Ground."  In  one  of  these 
fights  he  had  had  an  arm  broken  ;  in  another  he 
had  narrowly  escaped,  when  hotly  pursued,  by 
jumping  from  a  precipice  thirty  feet  high  into  a 
river. 

"  Miller  willingly  received  me  into  his  house  as 
an  inmate,  and  seemed  pleased  with  the  idea  of 
making  a  hunter  of  me.  His  dwelling  was  a 
small  log-house,  with  a  loft  or  garret  of  boards, 
so  that  there  was  ample  room  for  both  of  us. 
Under  his  instruction  I  soon  made  a  tolerable  pro- 
ficiency in  hunting.  My  first  exploit,  of  any  con- 
sequence, was  killing  a  bear.  I  was  hunting  in 
company  with  two  brothers,  when  we  came  upon 
the  track  of  Bruin,  in  a  wood  where  there  was  an 
undergrowth  of  canes  and  grape-vines.  He  was 
scrambling  up  a  tree,  when  I  shot  him  through 
the  breast  :  he  fell  to  the  ground  and  lay  motion- 
less. The  brothers  sent  in  their  dog,  who  seized 
the  bear  by  the  throat.  Bruin  raised  one  arm, 
and  gave  the  dog  a  hug  that  crushed  his  ribs. 
One  yell,  and  all  was  over.  I  don't  know  which 
was  first  dead,  the  dog  or  the  bear.  The  two 
brothers  sat  clown  and  cried  like  children  over 
their  unfortunate  dog.  Yet  they  were  mere  rough 
huntsmen,  almost  as  wild  and  untameable  as  In- 
dians :  but  they  were  fine  fellows. 

"  By  degrees  I  became  known,  and  somewhat 
of  a  favorite  among  the  hunters  of  the  neighbor- 
hood ;  that  is  to  say,  men  who  lived  within  a  cir- 
cle of  thirty  or  forty  miles,  and  came  occasionally 
to  see  John  Miller,  who  was  a  patriarch  among 
them.  They  lived  widely  apart,  in  log  huts  and 
wigwams,  almost  with  the  simplicity  of  Indians, 


and  well  nigh  as  destitute  of  the  comforts  and  in- 
ventions of  civilized  lite.  They  seldom  saw  each 
other  ;  weeks,  and  even  months  would  elapse, 
without  their  visiting.  When  they  did  meet,  it 
was  very  much  after  the  manner  of  Indians  ; 
loitering  about  all  day,  without  having  much  to 
say,  but  becoming  communicative  as  evening  ad- 
vanced, and  sitting  up  halt  the  night  before  the 
fire,  telling  hunting  stories,  and  terrible  tales  of 
the  fights  of  the  Bloody  Ground. 

"  Sometimes  several  would  join  in  a  distant 
hunting  expedition,  or  rather  campaign.  Expe- 
ditions of  this  kind  lasted  from  November  until 
April  ;  during  which  we  laid  up  our  stock  of  sum- 
mer provisions.  We  shifted  our  hunting  camps 
from  place  to  place,  according  as  we  found  the 
game.  They  were  generally  pitched  near  a  run 
of  water,  and  close  by  a  cane-brake,  to  screen  us 
from  the  wind.  One  side  of  our  lodge  was  open 
toward  the  fire,  Our  horses  were  hoppled  and 
turned  loose  in  the  cane-brakes,  with  bells  round 
their  necks.  One  of  the  party  stayed  at  home  to 
watch  the  camp,  prepare  the  meals,  and  keep  off 
the  wolves  ;  the  others  hunted.  When  a  hunter 
killed  a  deer  at  a  distance  from  the  camp,  he 
would  open  it  and  take  out  the  entrails  ;  then 
climbing  a  sapling,  he  would  bend  it  down,  tie 
the  deer  to  the  top,  and  let  it  spring  up  again,  so 
as  to  suspend  the  carcass  out  of  reach  of  the 
wolves.  At  night  he  would  return  to  the  camp, 
and  give  an  account  of  his  luck.  The  next  morn- 
ing early  he  would  get  a  horse  out  of  the  cane- 
brake  and  bring  home  his  game.  That  day  he 
would  stay  at  home  to  cut  up  the  carcass,  while 
the  others  hunted. 

"  Our  days  were  thus  spent  in  silent  and  lonely 
occupations.  It  was  only  at  night  that  we  would 
gather  together  before  the  fire,  and  be  sociable. 
I  was  a  novice,  and  used  to  listen  with  open  eyes 
and  ears  to  the  strange  and  wild  stories  told  by 
the  old  hunters,  and  believed  everything  I  heard. 
Some  of  their  stories  bordered  upon  the  super- 
natural. They  believed  that  their  rifles  might  be 
spell-bound,  so  as  not  to  be  able  to  kill  a  buffalo, 
even  at  arm's  length.  This  superstition  they  had 
derived  from  the  Indians,  who  often  think  the 
white  hunters  have  laid  a  spell  upon  their  rifles. 
Miller  partook  of  this  superstition,  and  used  to 
tell  of  his  rifle's  having  a  spell  upon  it  ;  but  it 
often  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  shuffling  way  of  ac- 
counting for  a  bad  shot.  If  a-  hunter  grossly 
missed  his  aim  he  would  ask,  '  Who  shot  last  with 
this  rifle  ?  ' — and  hint  that  he  must  have  charmed 
it.  The  sure  mode  to  disenchant  the  gun  was  to 
shoot  a  silver  bullet  out  of  it. 

"  By  the  opening  of  spring  we  would  generally 
have  quantities  of  bears'-meat  and  venison  salted, 
dried,  and  smoked,  and  numerous  packs  of  skins. 
We  would  then  make  the  best  of  our  way  home 
from  our  distant  hunting-grounds  ;  transporting 
our  spoils,  sometimes  in  canoes  along  the  rivers, 
sometimes  on  horseback  over  land,  and  our  re- 
turn would  often  be  celebrated  by  feasting  and 
dancing,  in  true  backwoods  style.  I  hava  given 
you  some  idea  of  our  hunting  ;  let  me  now  give 
you  a  sketch  of  our  frolicking. 

"  It  was  on  our  return  from  a  winter's  hunting 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Green  River,  when  we  re- 
ceived notice  that  there  was  to  be  a  grand  frolic 
at  Bob  Mosely's,  to  greet  the  hunters.  This  Bob 
Mosely  was  a  prime  fellow  throughout  the  coun- 
try. He  was  an  indifferent  hunter,  it  is  true,  and 
rather  lazy  to  boot  ;  but  then  he  could  play  the 
fiddle,  and  that  was  enough  to  make  him  of  con- 
sequence. There  was  no  other  man  within  a 


418 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


hundred  miles  that  could  play  the  fiddle,  so  there 
was  no  having  a  regular  frolic  without  Bob 
Mosely.  The  hunters,  therefore,  were  always 
ready  to  give  him  a  share  of  their  game  in  ex- 
change for  his  music,  and  Bob  was  always  ready 
to  get  up  a  carousal,  whenever  there  was  a  party 
returning  from  a  hunting  expedition.  The  present 
frolic  was  to  take  place  at  Bob  Mosely's  own 
house,  which  was  on  the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of 
the  Muddy,  which  is  a  branch  of  Rough  Creek, 
which  is  a  branch  of  Green  River. 

"  Everybody  was  agog  for  the  revel  at  Bob 
Mosely's  ;  and  as  all  the  fashion  of  the  neighbor- 
hood was  to  be  there,  I  thought  I  must  brush  up 
for  the  occasion.  My  leathern  hunting-dress, 
which  was  the  only  one  I  had,  was  somewhat  the 
worse  for  wear,  it  is  true,  and  considerably 
japanned  with  blood  and  grease  ;  but  I  was  up  to 
hunting  expedients.  Getting  into  a  periogue,  I 
paddled  off  to  a  part  of  the  Green  River  where 
there  was  sand  and  clay,  that  might  serve  for 
soap  ;  then  taking  off  my  dress,  I  scrubbed  and 
scoured  it,  until  I  thought  it  looked  very  well.  I 
then  put  it  on  the  end  of  a  stick,  and  hung  it  out 
of  the  periogue  to  dry,  while  I  stretched  myself 
very  comfortably  on  the  green  bank  of  the  river. 
Unluckily  a  flaw  struck  the  periogue,  and  tipped 
over  the  stick  :  down  went  my  dress  to  the  bot- 
tom of  the  river,  and  I  never  saw  it  more.  Here 
was  I,  left  almost  in  a  state  of  nature.  I  man- 
aged to  make  a  kind  of  Robinson  Crusoe  garb  of 
undressed  skins,  with  the  hair  on,  which  enabled 
me  to  get  home  with  decency  ;  but  my  dream  of 
gayety  and  fashion  was  at  an  end  ;  for  how  could 
I  think  of  figuring  in  high  life  at  the  Pigeon 
Roost,  equipped  like  a  mere  Orson  ? 

"  Old  Miller,  who  really  began  to  take  some 
pride  in  me,  was  confounded  when  he  understood 
that  I  did  not  intend  to  go  to  Bob  Mosely's  ;  but 
when  I  told  him  my  misfortune,  and  that  I  had  no 
dress  :  '  By  the  powers,'  cried  he,  '  but  you  shall 
go,  and  you  shall  be  the  best  dressed  and  the 
best  mounted  lad  there  ! ' 

"  He  immediately  set  to  work  to  cut  out  and 
make  up  a  hunting-shirt  of  dressed  deer-skin, 
gayly  fringed  at  the  shoulders,  with  leggings  of 
the  same,  fringed  from  hip  to  heel.  He  then 
made  me  a  rakish  raccoon-cap,  with  a  flaunting 
tail  to  it  ;  mounted  me  on  his  best  horse  ;  and  I 
may  say,  without  vanity,  that  I  was  one  of  the 
smartest  fellow*  that  figured  on  that  occasion,  at 
the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of  the  Muddy. 

"  It  was  no  small  occasion,  either,  le't  me  tell 
you.  Bob  Mosely's  house  was  a  tolerably  large  bark 
shanty,  with  a  clap-board  roof  ;  and  there  were 
assembled  all  the  young  hunters  and  pretty  girls 
of  the  country,  for  many  a  mile  round.  The 
young  men  were  in  their  best  hunting-dresses, 
but  not  one  could  compare  with  mine  ;  and  my 
raccoon-cap,  with  its  flowing  tail,  was  the  admira- 
tion of  everybody.  The  girls  were  mostly  in  doe- 
skin dresses  ;  for  there  was  no  spinning  and  weav- 
ing as  yet  in  the  woods  ;  nor  any  need  of  it.  I 
never  sa\v  girls  that  seemed  tome  better  dressed  ; 
and  I  was  somewhat  of  a  judge,  having  seen  fash- 
ions at  Richmond.  We  had  a  hearty  dinner,  and 
a  merry  one  ;  for  there  was  Jemmy  Kiel,  famous 
for  raccoon-hunting,  and  Bob  Tarleton,  and  Wes- 
ley Pigman,  and  Joe  Taylor,  and  several  other 
prime  fellows  for  a  frolic,  that  made  all  ring 
again,  and  laughed,  that  you  might  have  heard 
them  a  mile. 

"  After  dinner,  we  began  dancing,  and  were 
hard  at  it,  when,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, there  was  a  new  arrival — the  two  daughters 


of  old  Simon  Schultz  ;  two  young  ladies  that 
affected  fashion  and  late  hours.  Their  arrival 
had  nearly  put  an  end  to  all  our  merriment.  I 
must  go  a  little  round  about  in  my  story  to  explain 
to  you  how  that  happened. 

"  As  old  Schultz,  the  father,  was  one  day  look- 
ing in  the  cane-brakes  for  his  cattle,  he  came  upon 
the  track  of  horses.  He  knew  they  were  none  of 
his,  and  that  none  of  his  neighbors  had  horses 
about  that  place.  They  must  be  stray  horses  ;  or 
must  belong  to  some  traveller  who  had  lost  his 
way,  as  the  track  led  nowhere.  He  accordingly 
followed  it  up,  until  he  came  to  an  unlucky  ped- 
dler, with  two  or  three  pack-horses,  who  had 
been  bewildered  among  the  cattle-tracks,  and  had 
wandered  for  two  or  three  days  among  woods  and 
cane-brakes,  until  he  was  almost  famished. 

"  Old  Schultz  brought  him  to  his  house  ;  fed 
him  on  venison,  bear's  meat,  and  hominy,  and  at 
the  end  of  a  week  put  him  in  prime  condition. 
The  peddler  could  not  sufficiently  express  his 
thankfulness  ;  and  when  about  to  depart,  inquired 
what  he  had  to  pay  ?  Old  Schultz  stepped  back 
with  surprise.  '  Stranger, '  said  he,  'you  have 
been  welcome  under  my  roof.  I've  given  you 
nothing  but  wild  meat  and  hominy,  because  I  had 
no  better,  but  have  been  glad  of  your  company. 
You  are  welcome  to  stay  as  long  as  you  please  ; 
but,  by  Zounds  !  if  any  one  offers  to  pay  Simon 
Schultz  for  food  he  affronts  him  ! '  So  sajing,  he 
walked  out  in  a  huff. 

"  The  peddler  admired  the  hospitality  of  his 
host,  but  could  not  reconcile  it  to  his  conscience 
to  go  away  without  making  some  recompense. 
There  were  honest  Simon's  two  daughters,  two 
strapping,  red-haired  girls.  He  opened  his  packs 
and  displayed  riches  before  them  of  which  they 
had  no  conception  ;  for  in  those  clays  there  were 
no  country  stores  in  those  parts,  with  their  artifi- 
cial finery  and  trinketry  ;  and  this  was  the  first 
peddler  that  had  wandered  into  that  part  of  the 
wilderness.  The  girls  were  for  a  time  completely 
dazzled,  and  knew  not  what  to  choose  :  but  what 
caught  their  eyes  most  were  two  looking-glasses, 
about  the  size  of  a  dollar,  set  in  gilt  tin.  They 
had  never  seen  the  like  before,  having  used  no 
other  mirror  than  a  pail  of  water.  The  peddler 
presented  them  these  jewels,  without  the  least 
hesitation  :  nay,  he  gallantly  hung  them  round 
their  necks  by  red  ribbons,  almost  as  fine  as  the 
glasses  themselves.  This  done,  he  took  his  de- 
parture, leaving  them  as  much  astonished  as  two 
princesses  in  a  fairy  tale,  that  have  received  a 
magic  gift  from  an  enchanter. 

"  It  was  with  these  looking-glasses,  hung 
round  their  necks  as  lockets,  by  red  ribbons,  that 
old  Schultz's  daughters  made  their  appearance  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  at  the  frolic  at  Bob 
Mosely's,  on  the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of  the  Muddy. 

"  By  the  powers,  but  it  was  an  event  !  Such 
a  thing  had  never  before  been  seen  in  Kentucky. 
Bob  Tarleton,  a  strapping  fellow,  with  a  head  like 
a  chestnut-burr,  and  a  look  like  a  boar  in  an  apple 
orchard,  stepped  up,  caught  hold  of  the  looking- 
glass  of  one  of  the  girls,  and  gazing  at  it  for  a 
moment,  cried  out  :  '  Joe  Taylor,  come  here  ! 
come  here  !  I'll  be  darn'd  if  Patty  Schultz  ain't 
got  a  locket  that  you  can  see  your  face  in,  as 
clear  as  in  a  spring  of  water  ! ' 

"  In  a  twinkling  all  the  young  hunters  gathered 
round  old  Schultz's  daughters.  I,  who  knew 
what  looking-glasses  were,  did  not  budge.  Some 
of  the  girls  who  sat  near  me  were  excessively 
mortified  at  finding  themselves  thus  deserted.  I 
heard  Peggy  Pugh  say  to  Sally  Pigman,  '  Good- 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


419 


ness  knows,  it's  well  Schultz's  daughters  is  got 
them  things  round  their  necks,  for  it's  the  first 
time  the  young  men  crowded  round  them  ! ' 

"  I  saw  immediately  the  danger  of  the  case. 
We  were  a  small  community,  and  could  not  afford 
to  be  split  up  by  feuds.  So  I  stepped  up  to  the 
girls,  and  whispered  to  them:  'Polly,'  said  I, 
'  those  lockets  are  powerful  fine,  and  become  you 
amazingly  ;  but  you  don't  consider  that  the  coun- 
try is  not  advanced  enough  in  these  parts  tor  such 
things.  You  and  I  understand  these  matters,  but 
these  people  don't.  Fine  things  like  these  may  do 
very  well  in  the  old  settlements,  but  they  won't 
answer  at  the  Pigeon  Roost  Fork  of  the  Muddy. 
You  had  better  lay  them  aside  for  the  present,  or 
we  shall  have  no  peace.' 

"  Polly  and  her  sister  luckily  saw  their  error  ; 
they  took  off  the  lockets,  laid  them  aside,  and 
harmony  was  restored  :  otherwise,  I  verily  believe 
there  would  have  been  an  end  of  our  community. 
Indeed,  notwithstanding  the  great  sacrifice  they 
made  on  this  occasion,  I  do  not  think  old  Schultz's 
daughters  were  ever  much  liked  afterward  among 
the  young  women. 

"  This  was  the  first  time  that  looking-glasses 
were  ever  seen  in  the  Green  River  part  of  Ken- 
tucky." 

"  I  had  now  lived  some  time  with  old  Miller, 
and  had  become  a  tolerably  expert  hunter.  Game, 
however,  began  to  grow  scarce.  The  buffalo  had 
gathered  together,  as  if  by  universal  understand- 
ing, and  had  crossed  the  Mississippi,  never  to  re- 
turn. Strangers  kept  pouring  into  the  country, 
clearing  away  the  forests,  and  building  in  all  di- 
rections. The  hunters  began  to  grow  restive, 
Jemmy  Kiel,  the  same  of  whom  I  have  already 
spoken  for  his  skill  in  raccoon  catching,  came  to 
me  one  day  :  '  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,'  said 
he  ;  '  we're  getting  too  thick  here.  Simon 
Schultz  crowds  me  so,  that  I  have  no  comfort  of 
my  life.' 

"'Why,  how  you  talk!'  said  I;  'Simon 
Schultz  lives  twelve  miles  off.' 

'  No  matter  ;  his  cattle  run  with  mine.and  I've 
no  idea  of  living  where  another's  man  cattle  can 
run  with  mine.  That's  too  close  neighborhood  ; 
I  want  elbow-room.  This  country,  too,  is  grow- 
ing too  poor  to  live  in  ;  there's  no  game  ;  so  two 
or  three  of  us  have  made  up  our  minds  to  follow 
the  buffalo  to  the  Missouri,  and  we  should  like  to 
have  you  of  the  party.'  Other  hunters  of  my  ac- 
quaintance talked  in  the  same  manner.  This  set 
me  thinking  ;  but  the  more  I  thought  the  more  I 
was  perplexed.  I  had  no  one  to  advise  with  ;  old 
Miller  and  his  associates  knew  but  of  one  mode  of 
lite,  and- 1  had  had  no  experience  in  any  other  ;  but 
I  had  a  wide  scope  of  thought.  When  out  hunt- 
ing alone  I  used  to  forget  the  sport,  and  sit  for 
hours  together  on  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  with  rifle  in 
hand,  buried  in  thought,  and  debating  with  my- 
self :  '  Shall  I  .go  with  Jemmy  Kiel  and  his  com- 
pany, or  shall  I  remain  here  ?  If  I  remain  here 
there  will  soon  be  nothing  left  to  hunt  ;  but  am  I 
to  be  a  hunter  all  my  life  ?  Have  not  I  something 
more  in  me  than  to  be  carrying  a  rifle  on  my 
shoulder,  day  after  day,  and  dodging  about  after 
bears,  and  deer,  and  other  brute  beasts  ?  My 
vanity  told  me  I  had  ;  and  I  called  to  mind  my 
boyish  boast  to  my  sister,  that  I  would  never  re- 
turn home,  until  I  returned  a  member  of  Congress 
irom  Kentucky  ;  but  was  this  the  way  to  fit  my- 
self for  such  a  station  ?' 

"  Various  plans  passed  through  my  mind,  but 
they  were  abandoned  almost  as  soon  as  formed. 
At  length  I  determined  on  becoming  a  lawyer. 


True  it  is,  I  knew  almost  nothing.  I  had  left 
school  before  I  had  learned  beyond  the  '  rule  of 
three.'  '  Never  mind,'  said  I  to  myself,  reso- 
lutely ;  '  I  am  a  terrible  fellow  for  hanging  on  to 
anything  when  I've  once  made  up  my  mind  ;  and 
if  a  man  has  but  ordinary  capacity,  and  will  set  to 
work  with  heart  and  soul,  and  stick  to  it,  he  can 
do  almost  anything.'  With  this  maxim,  which 
has  been  pretty  much  my  main-stay  throughout 
life,  I  fortified  myself  in  my  determination  to  at- 
tempt the  law.  But  how  was  I  to  set  about  it  ? 
I  must  quit  this  forest  life,  and  go  to  one  or  other 
of  the  towns,  where  I  might  be  able  to  study,  and 
to  attend  the  courts.  This  too  required  funds.  I 
examined  into  the  state  of  my  finances.  The  purse 
given  me  by  my  father  had  remained  untouched, 
in  the  bottom  of  an  old  chest  up  in  the  loft,  for 
money  was  scarcely  needed  in  these  parts.  I  hacl 
bargained  away  the  skins  acquired  in  hunting,  for 
a  horse  and  various  other  matters,  on  which  in 
case  of  need,  I  could  raise  iunds.  [  therefore 
thought  I  could  make  shift  to  maintain  myself  un- 
til I  was  fitted  for  the  bar. 

"  I  informed  my  worthy  host  [and  patron,  old 
Miller,  of  my  plan.  He  shook  his  head  at  my 
turning  my  back  upon  the  woods,  when  I  was  in 
a  fair  way  of  making  a  first-rate  hunter  ;  but  he 
made  no  effort  to  dissuade  me.  I  accordingly  set 
off  in  September,  on  horseback,  intending  to  visit 
Lexington,  Frankfort,  and  other  of  the  principal 
towns,  in  search  of  a  favorable  place  to  prosecute 
my  studies.  My  choice  was  made  sooner  than  I 
expected.  I  had  put  up  one  night  at  Bardstown, 
and  found,  on  inquiry,  that  I  could  get  comforta- 
ble board  and  accommodation  in  a  private  family 
for  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  week.  I  liked  the  place, 
and  resolved  to  look  no  farther.  So  the  next 
morning  I  prepared  to  turn  rny  face  homeward, 
and  take  my  final  leave  of  forest  life. 

"  I  had  taken  my  breakfast,  and  was  waiting 
for  my  horse,  when,  in  pacing  up  and  down  the 
piazza,  I  saw  a  young  girl  seated  near  a  window, 
evidently  a  visitor.  She  was  very  pretty  ;  with 
auburn  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  was  dressed  in 
white.  1  had  seen  nothing  of  the  kind  since  1  had 
left  Richmond  ;  and  at  that  time  I  was  too  much 
of  a  boy  to  be  much  struck  by  female  charms. 
She  was  so  delicate  and  dainty-looking,  so  differ- 
ent from  the  hale,  buxom,  brown  girls  of  the 
woods  ;  and  then  her  white  dress  ! — it  was  per- 
fectly dazzling  !  Never  was  poor  youth  more  ta- 
ken by  surprise,  and  suddenly  bewitched.  My 
heart  yearned  to  know  her  ;  but  how  was  I  to  ac- 
cost her  ?  I  had  grown  wild  in  the  woods,  and 
had  none  of  the  habitudes  of  polite  life.  Had  she 
been  like  Peggy  Pugh  or  Sally  Pigman,  or  any 
other  of  my  leathern-dressed  belles  of  the  Pigeon 
Roost,  I  should  have  approached  her  without 
dread  ;  nay,  had  she  been  as  fair  as  Schultz's 
daughters,  with  their  looking-glass  lockets,  I 
should  not  have  hesitated  ;  but  that  white  dress, 
and  those  auburn  ringlets.'and  blue  eyes,  and  del- 
icate looks,  quite  daunted,  while  they  fascinated 
me.  I  don't  know  what  put  it  into  my  head,  but 
I  thought,  all  at  once,  that  I  would  kiss  her  !  It. 
would  take  a  long  acquaintance  to  arrive  at  such 
a  boon,  but  I  might  seize  upon  it  by  sheer  rob- 
bery. Nobody  knew  me  here.  I  would  just  step 
in,  snatch  a  kiss,  mount  my  horse,  and  ride  off. 
She  would  not  be  the  worse  for  it  ;  and  that  kiss 
— oh  !  I  should  die  if  I  did  not  get  it  ! 

"  I  gave  no  time  for  the  thought  to  cool,  but 
entered  the  house,  and  stepped  lightly  into  the 
room.  She  was  seated  with  her  back  to  the 
door,  looking  out  at  the  window,  and  did  not  hear 


420 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


my  approach.  I  tapped  her  chair,  and  as  she 
turned  and  looked  up,  I  snatched  as  sweet  a  kiss 
as  ever  was  stolen,  and  vanished  in  a  twinkling. 
The  next  moment  I  was  on  horseback,  galloping 
homeward  ;  my  very  ears  tingling  at  what  I  had 
done. 

"  On  my  return  home  I  sold  my  horse,  and 
turned  everything  to  cash  ;  and  found,  with  the 
remains  of  the  paternal  purse,  that  I  had  nearly 
four  hundred  dollars  ;  a  little  capital  which  I  re- 
solved to  manage  with  the  strictest  economy. 

"  It  was  hard  parting  with  old  Miller,  who  had 
been  like  a  father  to  me  ;  it  cost  me,  too,  some- 
thing of  a  struggle  to  give  up  the  free,  independ- 
ent wild-wood  life  I  had  hitherto  led  ;  but  I  had 
marked  out  my  course,  and  had  never  been  one 
to  flinch  or  turn  back. 

"  I  footed  it  sturdily  to  Bardstown  ;  took  pos- 
session of  the  quarters  for  which  I  had  bargained, 
shut  myself  up,  and  set  to  work  with  might  and 
main  to  study.  But  what  a  task  I  had  before  me  ! 
I  had  everything  to  learn  ;  not  merely  law,  but 
all  the  elementary  branches  of  knowledge.  I 
read  and  read,  for  sixteen  hours  out  of  the  four-and- 
twenty  ;  but  the  more  I  read  the  more  I  became 
aware  of  my  own  ignorance,  and  shed  bitter 
tears  over  my  deficiency.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
wilderness  of  knowledge  expanded  and  grew  more 
perplexed  as  I  advanced.  Every  height  gained 
only  revealed  a  wider  region  to  be  traversed,  and 
nearly  filled  me  with  despair.  I  grew  moody, 
silent,  and  unsocial,  but  studied  on  doggedly  and 
incessantly.  The  only  person  with  whom  I  held 
any  conversation  was  the  worthy  man  in  whose 
house  I  was  quartered.  He  was  honest  and  well- 
meaning,  but  perfectly  ignorant,  and  I  believe 
would  have  liked  me  much  better  if  I  had  not 
been  so  much  addicted  to  reading.  He  consider- 
ed all  books  filled  with  lies  and  impositions,  and 
seldom  could  look  into  one  without  finding  some- 
thing to  rouse  his  spleen.  Nothing  put  him  into 
a  greater  passion  than  the  assertion  that  the 
world  turned  on  its  own  axis  every  four-and- 
twenty  hours.  He  swore  it  was  an  outrage  upon 
common  sense.  '  Why,  if  it  did,'  said  he,  '  there 
would  not  be  a  drop  of  water  in  the  well  by  morn- 
ing, and  all  the  milk  and  cream  in  the  dairy 
would  be  turned  topsy-turvy  !  And  then  to  talk 
of  the  earth  going  round  the  sun  !  How  do  they 
know  it  ?  I've  seen  the  sun  rise  every  morning, 
and  set  every  evening  for  more  than  thirty  years. 
They  must  not  talk  to  me  about  the  earth's  going 
round  the  sun  !' 

"  At  another  time  he  was  in  a  perfect  fret  at  be- 
ing told  the  distance  between  the  sun  and  moon. 
'  How  can  any  one  tell  the  distance  ?'  cried  he. 
'  Who  surveyed  it  ?  who  carried  the  chain  ?  By 
Jupiter  !  they  only  talk  this  way  before  me  to  an- 
noy me.  But  then  there's  some  people  of  sense 
who  give  in  to  this  cursed  humbug  !  There's 
Judge  Broadnax,  now,  one  of  the  best  lawyers  we 
have  ;  isn't  it  surprising  he  should  believe  in  such 
stuff  ?  Why,  sir,  the  other  day  I  heard  him  talk  of 
the  distance  from  a  star  he  called  Mars  to  the 
sun  !  He  must  have  got  it  out  of  one  or  other  of 
those  confounded  books  he's  so  fond  of  reading  ; 
a  book  some  impudent  fellow  has  written,  who 
knew  noboay  could  swear  the  distance  was  more 
or  less." 

"  For  my  own  part,  feeling  my  own  deficiency 
in  scientific  lore,  I  never  ventured  to  unsettle  his 
conviction  '.fiat  tne  sun  made  his  daily  circuit 
round  the  earth  ;  and  for  aught  I  said  to  the  con- 
trary, he  lived  and  died  in  that  belief. 

"  I  had  been  about  a  year  at  Bardstown,  living 


thus  studiously  and  reclusely,  when,  as  I  was  one 
day  walking  the  street,  I  met  two  young  girls,  in 
one  of  whom  I  immediately  recalled  the  little 
beauty  whom  I  had  kissed  so  impudently.  She 
blushed  up  to  the  eyes,  and  so  did  I  ;  but  we  both 
passed  on  without  further  sign  of  recognition. 
This  second  glimpse  of  her,  however,  caused  an 
odd  fluttering  about  my  heart.  1  could  not  get 
her  out  of  my  thoughts  for  days.  She  quite  inter- 
fered with  my  studies.  I  tried  to  think  of  her  as 
a  mere  child,  but  it  would  not  do  ;  she  had  im- 
proved in  beauty,  and  was  tending  toward 
womanhood  ;  and  then  I  myself  was  but  little 
better  than  a  stripling.  However,  I  did  not  at- 
tempt to  seek  after  her,  or  even  to  find  out  who 
she  was,  but  returned  doggedly  to  my  books.  By 
degrees  she  faded  from  my  thoughts,  or  if  she  did 
cross  them  occasionally,  it  was  only  to  increase 
my  despondency  ;  for  I  feared  that  with  all  my 
exertions,  I  should  never  be  able  to  fit  myself  for 
the  bar,  or  enable  myself  to  support  a  wife. 

"  One  cold  stormy  evening  I  was  seated,  in 
dumpish  mood,  in  the  bar-room  of  the  inn,  look- 
ing into  the  fire,  and  turning  over  uncomfortable 
thoughts,  when  I  was  accosted  by  some  one  who 
had  entered  the  room  without  my  perceiving  it. 
I  looked  up,  and  saw  before  me  a  tall  and,  as  I 
thought,  pompous-looking  man,  arrayed  in  small 
clothes  and  knee-buckles,  with  powdered  head, 
and  shoes  nicely  blacked  and  polished  ;  a  style  of 
dress  unparalleled  in  those  days,  in  that  rough 
country.  I  took  a  pique  against  him  from  the 
very  portliness  of  his  appearance,  and  stateliness 
of  his  manner,  and  bristled  up  as  he  accosted  me. 
He  demanded  it  my  name  was  not  Ringwood. 

"  I  was  startled,  for  I  supposed  myself  perfectly 
incog.;  but  I  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  '  Your  family, I  believe,  lives  in  Richmond  ?' 

44  My  gorge  began  to  rise.  'Yes,  sir,'  replied 
I,  sulkily,  '  my  family  does  live  in  Richmond.' 

"  '  And  what,  may  I  ask,  has  brought  you  into 
this  part  of  the  country  ?' 

"  '  Zounds,  sir  !'  cried  I,  starting  on  my  feet, 
4  what  business  is  it  of  yours  ?  How  dare  you  to 
question  me  in  this  manner  ?' 

"  The  entrance  of  some  persons  prevented  a 
reply  ;  but  I  walked  up  and  down  the  bar-room, 
fuming  with  conscious  independence  and  insulted 
dignity,  while  the  pompous-looking  personage, 
who  had  thus  trespassed  upon  my  spleen,  retired 
without  proffering  another  word. 

41  The  next  day,  while  seated  in  my  room,  some 
one  tapped  at  the  door,  and,  on  being  bid  to 
enter,  the  stranger  in  the  powdered  head,  small- 
clothes, and  shining  shoes  and  buckles,  walked  in 
with  ceremonious  courtesy. 

41  My  boyish  pride  was  again  in  arms  ;  but  he 
subdued  me.  He  was  formal,  but  kind  and 
friendly.  He  knew  my  family  and  understood  my 
situation,  and  the  dogged  struggle  I  was  making. 
A  little  conversation,  when  my  jealous  pride  was 
once  put  to  rest,  drew  everything  from  me.  He 
was  a  lawyer  of  experience  and  of  extensive  prac- 
tice, and  offered  at  once  to  take  me  with  him,  and 
direct  my  studies.  The  offer  was  too  advanta- 
geous and  gratifying  not  to  be  immediately  ac- 
cepted.  From  that  time  I  began  to  look  up.  I 
was  put  into  a  proper  track,  and  was  enabled  to 
study  to  a  proper  purpose.  I  made  acquaintance, 
too,  with  some  of  the  young  men  of  the  place, 
who  were  in  the  same  pursuit,  and  was  encour- 
aged at  finding  that  I  could  '  hold  my  own'  in 
argument  with  them.  We  instituted  a  debating 
club,  in  which  I  soon  became  prominent  and 
popular.  Men  of  talents,  engaged  in  other  pur- 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


421 


suits,  joined  it,  and  this  diversified  our  subjects, 
and  put  me  on  various  tracks  of  inquiry.  Ladies, 
too,  attended  some  of  our  discussions,  and  this 
gave  them  a  polite  tone,  and  had  an  influence  on 
the  manners  of  the  debaters.  My  legal  patron 
also  may  have  had  a  favorable  effect  in  correcting 
any  roughness  contracted  in  my  hunter's  life.  He 
was  calculated  to  bend  me  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, for  he  was  of  the  old  school  ;  quoted  Ches- 
terfield on  all  occasions,  and  talked  of  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,  who  was  his  beau  ideal.  It  was  Sir 
Charles  Grandison,  however,  Kentuckyized. 

"  I  had  always  been  fond  of  female  society.  My 
experience,  however,  had  hitherto  been  among 
the  rough  daughters  of  the  backwoodsmen  ;  and 
I  felt  an  awe  of  young  ladies  in  '  store  clothes,' 
and  delicately  brought  up.  Two  or  three  of  the 
married  ladies  of  Bardstown,  who  had  heard  me 
at  the  debating  club,  determined  that  I  was  a 
genius,  and  undertook  to  bring  me  out.  I  be- 
lieve I  really  improved  under  their  hands  ;  be- 
came quiet  where  I  had  been  shy  or  sulky,  and 
easy  where  I  had  been  impudent. 

"  I  called  to  take  tea  one  evening  with  one  of 
these  ladies,  when  to  my  surprise,  and  somewhat 
to  my  confusion,  I  found  with  her  the  identical 
blue-eyed  little  beauty  whom  I  had  so  audaciously 
kissed.  I  was  formally  introduced  to  her,  but 
neither  of  us  betrayed  any  sign  of  previous  ac- 
quaintance, except  by  blushing  to  the  eyes.  While 
tea  was  getting  ready,  the  lady  of  the  house  went 
out  of  the  room  to  give  some  directions,  and  left 
us  alone. 

"  Heavens  and  earth,  what  a  situation  !  I 
would  have  given  all  the  pittance  I  was  worth  to 
have  been  in  the  deepest  dell  of  the  forest.  I  felt 
the  necessity  of  saying  something  in  excuse  of  my 
former  rudeness,  but  I  could  not  conjure  up  an 
idea,  nor  utter  a  word.  Every  moment  matters 
were  growing  worse.  I  felt  at  one  time  tempted 
to  do  as  I  had  done  when  I  robbed  her  of  the 
kiss  ;  bolt  from  the  room,  and  take  to  flight  ;  but 
I  was  chained  to  the  spot,  for  f  really  longed  to 
gain  her  good- will. 

"  At  length  I  plucked  up  courage,  on  seeing  that 
she  was  equally  contused  with  myself,  and  walk- 
ing desperately  up  to  her,  I  exclaimed  : 

"  '  I  have  been  trying  to  muster  up  something  to 
say  to  you,  but  I  cannot.  I  feel  that  I  am  in  a 
horrible  scrape.  Do  have  pity  on  me,  and  help 
me  out  of  it.' 

"  A  smile  dimpled  about  her  mouth,  and  played 
among  the  blushes  of  her  cheek.  She  looked  up 
with  a  shy,  but  arch  glance  of  the  eye,  that  ex- 
pressed a  volume  of  comic  recollection  ;  we  both 
broke  into  a  laugh,  and  from  that  moment  all 
went  on  well. 

"  A  few  evenings  afterward  I  met  her  at  a  dance, 
and  prosecuted  the  acquaintance.  I  soon  became 
deeply  attached  to  her  ;  paid  my  court  regularly  ; 
and  before  I  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  had  en- 
gaged myself  to  marry  her.  I  spoke  to  her 
mother,  a  widow  lady,  to  ask  her  consent.  She 
seemed  to  demur  ;  upon  which,  with  my  custom- 
ary haste,  I  told  her  there  would  be  no  use  in  op- 
posing the  match,  for  if  her  daughter  chose  to 
nave  me,  I  would  take  her,  in  defiance  of  her 
family,  and  the  whole  world. 

"  She  laughed,  and  told  me  I  need  not  give  my- 
self any  uneasiness  ;  would  be  no  unreasonable 
opposition.  She  knew  my  family  and  all  about 
me.  The  only  obstacle  was,  that  I  had  no  means 
of  supporting  a  wife,  and  she  had  nothing  to  give 
with  her  daughter. 

"  No  matter  ;  at  that  moment  everything  was 


bright  before  me.  I  was  in  one  of  my  sanguine 
moods.  I  feared  nothing,  doubted  nothing.  So 
it  was  agreed  that  I  should  prosecute  my  studies, 
obtain  a  license,  and  as  soon  as  f  should  be  fairly 
launched  in  business,  we  would  be  married. 

"  I  now  prosecuted  my  studies  with  redoubled 
ardor,  and  was  up  to  my  ears  in  law,  when  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  my  father,  who  had  heard  of 
me  and  my  whereabouts.  He  applauded  the 
course  I  had  taken,  but  advised  me  to  lay  a  foun- 
dation of  general  knowledge,  and  offered  to  defray 
my  expenses,  if  I  would  go  to  college.  I  felt  the 
want  of  a  general  education,  and  was  staggered 
with  this  offer.  It  militated  somewhat  against 
the  self-dependent  course  I  had  so  proudly  or 
rather  conceitedly  marked  out  for  myself,  but  it 
would  enable  me  to  enter  more  advantageously 
upon  my  legal  career.  I  talked  over  the  mat- 
ter with  the  lovely  girl  to  whom  I  was  engaged. 
She  sided  in  opinion  with  my  father,  and  talked 
so  disinterestedly,  yet  tenderly,  that  if  possible,  I 
loved  her  more  than  ever.  I  reluctantly,  therefore, 
agreed  to  go  to  college  for  a  couple  of  years, 
though  it  must  necessarily  postpone  our  union. 

"Scarcely  had  I  formed  this  resolution,  when 
her  mother  was  taken  ill,  and  died,  leaving  her 
without  a  protector.  This  again  altered  all  my 
plans.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  protect  her.  I  gave  up 
all  idea  of  collegiate  studies  ;  persuaded  myself 
that  by  dint  of  industry  and  application  I  might 
overcome  the  deficiencies  of  education,  and  re- 
solved to  take  out  a  license  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  That  A:ery  autumn  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar, 
and  within  a  month  afterward  was  married.  We 
were  a  young  couple,  she  not  much  above  sixteen, 
I  not  quite  twenty  ;  and  both  almost  without  a 
dollar  in  the  world.  The  establishment  which 
we  set  up  was  suited  to  our  circumstances  :  a 
log-house,  with  two  small  rooms  ;  a  bed,  a  table, 
a  half  dozen  chairs,  a  half  dozen  knives  and  forks, 
a  half  dozen  spoons  ;  everything  by  half  dozens  ; 
a  little  delft  ware  ;  everything  in  a  small  way  ;  we 
were  so  poor,  but  then  so  happy  ! 

"  We  had  not  been  married  many  days,  when 
court  was  held  at  a  county  town,  about  twenty- 
five  miles  distant.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to  go 
there,  and  put  myself  in  the  way  of  business  ;  but 
how  was  I  to  go  ?  I  had  expended  all  my  means 
on  our  establishment  ;  and  then  it  was  hard  part- 
ing with  my  wife  so  soon  after  marriage.  How- 
ever, go  I  must.  Money  must  be  made,  or  we 
should  soon  have  the  wolf  at  the  door.  I  accord- 
ingly borrowed  a  horse,  and  borrowed  a  little, 
cash,  and  rode  off  from  my  door,  leaving  my  wife. 
standing  at  it,  and  waving  her  hand  after  me.1 
Her  last  look,  so  sweet  and  beaming,  went  to  my 
heart.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  go  through  fire  and 
water  for  her. 

"  I  arrived  at  the  county  town  on  a  cool  Octo- 
ber evening.  The  inn  was  crowded,  for  the 
court  was  to  commence  on  the  following  clay.  I 
knew  no  one,  and  wondered  how  I,  a  stranger, 
and  a  mere  youngster,  was  to  make  my  way  in 
such  a  crowd,  and  to  get  business.  The  public 
room  was  thronged  with  the  idlers  of  the  country, 
who  gather  together  on  such  occasions.  There 
was  some  drinking  going  forward,  with  much 
noise,  and  a  little  altercation.  Just  as  I  entered 
the  room  I  saw  a  rough  bully  of  a  fellow,  who 
was  partly  intoxicated,  strike  an  old  man.  He 
came  swaggering  by  me,  and  elbowed  me  as  he 
passed.  I  immediately  knocked  him  down,  and 
kicked  him  into  the  street.  I  needed  no  better 
introduction.  In  a  moment  I  had  a  dozen  rough 
shakes  of  the  hand,  and  invitations  to  drink,  and 


422 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


found  myself  quite  a  personage  in  this  rough  as- 
sembly. 

"  The  next  morning  the  court  opened.  I  took 
my  seat  among  the  lawyers,  but  lelt  as  a  mere 
spectator,  not  having  a  suit  in  progress  or  pros- 
pect, nor  having  any  idea  where  business  was  to 
come  from.  -In  the  course  of  the  morning  a  man 
was  put  at  the  bar,  charged  with  passing  counter- 
feit money,  and  was  asked  if  he  was  ready  for  trial. 
He  answered  in  the  negative.  He  had  been  con- 
fined in  a  place  where  there  were  no  lawyers,  and 
had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  consulting  any. 
He  was  told  to  choose  counsel  from  the  lawyers 
present,  and  to  be  ready  for  trial  on  the  following 
day.  He  looked  round  the  court  and  selected 
me.  I  was  thunder-struck.  I  could  not  tell  why 
he  should  make  such  a  choice.  I,  a  beardless 
youngster  ;  unpractised  at  the  bar  ;  perfectly  un- 
known. I  felt  diffident  yet  delighted,  and  could 
have  hugged  the  rascal. 

"  Before  leaving  the  court  he  gave  me  one  hun- 
dred dollars  in  a  bag  as  a  retaining  fee.  I  could 
scarcely  believe  my  senses  ;  it  seemed  like  a 
dream.  The  heaviness  of  the  fee  spoke  but  light- 
ly in  favor  of  his  innocence,  but  that  was  no  affair 
of  mine.  I  was  to  be  advocate,  not  judge  nor 
jury.  1  followed  him  to  jail,  and  learned  from 
him  all  the  particulars  of  his  case  ;  from  thence  I 
went  to  the  clerk's  office  and  took  minutes  of  the 
indictment.  I  then  examined  the  law  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  prepared  my  brief  in  my  room.  All  this 
occupied  me  until  midnight,  when  I  went  to  bed 
and  tried  to  sleep.  It  was  all  in  vain.  Never 
in  my  life  was  I  more  wide-awake.  A  host  of 
thoughts  and  fancies  kept  rushing  through  my 
mind  ;  the  shower  of  gold  that  had  so  unexpect- 
edly lallen  into  my  lap  ;  the  idea  of  my  poor  little 
wife  at  home,  that  I  was  to  astonish  with  my  good 
fortune  !  But  then  the  awful  responsibility  I  had 
undertaken  ! — to  speak  for  the  first  time  in  a 
strange  court  ;  the  expectations  the  culprit  had 
evidently  formed  of  my  talents  ;  all  these,  and  a 
crowd  of  similar  notions,  kept  whirling  through 
my  mind.  I  tossed  about  all  night,  fearing  the 
morning  would  find  me  exhausted  and  incompe- 
tent ;  in  a  word,  the  day  dawned  on  me,  a  miser- 
able fellow  ! 

"  I  got  up  feverish  and  nervous.  I  walked 
out  before  breakfast,  striving  to  collect  my 
thoughts,  and  tranquillize  my  feelings.  It  was  a 
bright  morning  ;  the  air  was  pure  and  frosty.  I 
bathed  my  forehead  and  my  hands  in  a  beautiful 
running  stream  ;  but  I  could  not  allay  the  fever 
heat  that  raged  within.  I  returned  to  breakfast, 
but  could  not  eat.  A  single  cup  of  coffee  formed 
my  repast.  It  was  time  to  go  to  court,  and  I 
went  there  with  a  throbbing  heart.  I  believe  if 
it  had  not  been  for  the  thoughts  of  my  little  wife, 
in  her  lonely  log  house,  I  should  have  given  back 
to  the  man  his  hundred  dollars,  and  relinquished 
the  cause.  I  took  my  seat,  looking,  I  am  con- 
vinced, more  like  a  culprit  than  the  rogue  I  was 
to  defend. 

"  When  the  time  came  for  me  to  speak,  my 
heart  died  within  me.  I  rose  embarrassed  and 
dismayed,  and  stammered  in  opening  my  cause. 
I  went  on  from  bad  to  worse,  and  felt  as  if  I  was 
going  down  hill.  Just  then  the  public  prosecutor, 
a  man  of  talents,  but  somewhat  rough  in  his 
practice,  made  a  sarcastic  remark  on  something 
I  had  said.  It  was  like  an  electric  spark,  and 
ran  tingling  through  every  vein  in  my  body.  In 
an  instant  my  diffidence  was  gone.  My  whole 
spirit  was  in  arms.  I  answered  with  promptness 
and  bitterness,  for  I  felt  the  cruelty  of  such  an  at- 


tack upon  a  novice  in  my  situation.  The  public 
prosecutor  made  a  kind  of  apology  :  this,  from  a 
man  of  his  redoubted  powers,  was  a  vast  conces- 
sion. I  renewed  my  argument  with  a  fearless 
glow  ;  carried  the  case  through  triumphantly, 
and  the  man  was  acquitted. 

"  This  was  the  making  of  me.  Everybody  was 
curious  to  know  who  this  new  lawyer  was,  that 
had  thus  suddenly  risen  among  them,  and  beard- 
ed the  attorney-general  at  the  very  outset.  The 
story  of  my  debut  at  the  inn  on  the  preceding 
evening,  when  I  had  knocked  clown  a  bully,  ana 
kicked  him  out  of  doors  for  striking  an  old  man, 
was  circulated  with  favorable  exaggerations. 
Even  my  very  beardless  chin  and  juvenile  counte- 
nance were  in  my  favor,  for  people  gave  me  far 
more  credit  than  I  really  deserved.  The  chance 
business  which  occurs  in  our  country  courts  came 
thronging  upon  me.  I  was  repeatedly  employed 
in  other  causes  ;  and  by  Saturday  night,  when 
the  court  closed,  and  I  had  paid  my  bill  at  the 
inn,  I  found  myself  with  a  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars in  silver,  three  hundred  dollars  in  notes,  and 
a  horse  that  I  alterward  sold  for  two  hundred  dol- 
lars more. 

"  Never  did  miser  gloat  on  his  money  with 
more  delight.  I  locked  the  door  of  my  room  ; 
piled  the  money  in  a  heap  upon  the  table  ;  walked 
round  it  ;  sat  with  my  elbows  on  the  table,  and 
my  chin  upon  my  hands,  and  gazed  upon  it.  Was 
I  thinking  of  the  money  ?  No  !  I  was  thinking 
of  my  little  wife  at  home.  Another  sleepless 
night  ensued  ;  but  what  a  night  of  golden  fancies, 
and  splendid  air-castles  !  As  soon  as  morning 
dawned,  I  was  up,  mounted  the  borrowed  horse 
with  which  I  had  come  to  court,  and  led  the  other 
which  I  had  received  as  a  fee.  All  the  way  I  was 
delighting  myself  with  the  thoughts  of  the  sur- 
prise I  had  in  store  lor  my  little  wife  ,  lor  both  of 
us  had  expected  nothing  but  that  I  should  spend 
all  the  money  I  had  borrowed,  and  should  return 
in  debt. 

"  Our  meeting  was  joyous,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose  :  but  I  played  the  part  of  the  Indian  hunter, 
who,  when  he  returns  from  the  chase,  never  lor  a 
time  speaks  of  his  success.  She  had  prepared  a 
snug  little  rustic  meal  for  me,  and  while  it  was 
getting  ready  I  seated  myself  at  an  old-fashioned 
desk  in  one  corner,  and  began  to  count  over  my 
money,  and  put  it  away.  She  came  to  me  before 
I  had  finished,  and  asked  who  I  had  collected  the 
money  for. 

"  '  For  myself,  to  be  sure,'  replied  I,  with  af- 
fected coolness  ;  '  I  made  it  at  court.' 

"  She  looked  me  lor  a  moment  in  the  face,  in- 
credulously. I  tried  to  keep  my  countenance, 
and  to  play  Indian,  but  it  would  not  do.  My 
muscles  began  to  twitch  ;  my  feelings  all  at  once 
gave  way.  I  caught  her  in  my  arms  ;  laughed, 
cried,  and  danced  about  the  room,  like  a  crazy 
man.  From  that  time  forward,  we  never  wanted 
for  money. 

"  I  had  not  been  long  in  successful  practice, 
when  I  was  surprised  one  day  by  a  visit  from  my 
woodland  patron,  old  Miller.  The  tidings  of  my 
prosperity  had  reached  him  in  the  wilderness, 
and  he  had  walked  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
on  foot  to  see  me.  By  that  time  I  had  improved 
my  domestic  establishment,  and  had  all  things 
comfortable  about  me.  He  looked  around  him 
with  a  wondering  eye,  at  what  he  considered  lux- 
uries and  superfluities  ;  but  supposed  they  were 
all  right  in  my  altered  circumstances.  He  said 
he  did  not  know,  upon  the  whole,  but  that  I  had 
acted  for  the  best.  It  is  true,  if  game  had  con- 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


423 


tinuecl  plenty,  it  would  have  been  a  folly  for  me  to 
quit  a.  hunter's  life  ;  but  hunting  was  pretty  nigh 
done  up  in  Kentucky.  The  buffalo  had  gone  to 
Missouri  ;  the  elk  were  nearly  gone  also  ;  deer, 
too,  were  growing  scarce  ;  they  might  last  out 
his  time,  as  he  was  growing  old,  but  they  were  not 
worth  setting  up  lite  upon.  He  had  once  lived  on 
the  borders  of  Virginia.  Game  grew  scarce 
there  ;  he  followed  it  up  across  Kentucky,  and 
now  it  was  again  giving  him  the  slip  ;  but  he  was 
too  old  to  follow  it  farther. 

"  He  remained  with  us  three  days.  My  wife 
did  everything  in  her  power  to  make  him  comfort- 
able ;  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  he  said  he  must 
be  off  again  to  the  woods.  He  was  tired  of  the 
village,  and  of  having  so  many  people  about  him. 
He  accordingly  returned  to  the  wilderness  and  to 
hunting  life.  But  I  fear  he  did  not  make  a  good 
end  of  it  ;  for  I  understand  that  a  tew  years  be- 
fore his  death  he  married  Sukey  Thomas,  who 
lived  at  the  White  Oak  Run." 


THE  SEMINOLES, 

FROM  the  time  of  the  chimerical  cruisings  of 
Old  Ponce  de  Leon  in  search  of  the  Fountain  of 
Youth,  the  avaricious  expedition  of  Pamphilo  de 
Narvaez  in  quest  of  gold,  and  the  chivalrous  en- 
terprise of  Hernando  de  Soto,  to  discover  and 
conquer  a  second  Mexico,  the  natives  ot  Florida 
have  been  continually  subjected  to  the  invasions 
and  encroachments  of  white  men.  They  have  re- 
sisted them  perseveringly  but  fruitlessly,  and  are 
now  battling  amid  swamps  and  morasses  for  the 
last  foothold  of  their  native  soil,  with  all  the 
ferocity  of  despair.  Can  we  wonder  at  the  bitter- 
ness of  a  hostility  that  has  been  handed  down 
from  father  to  son,  for  upward  of  three  centuries, 
and  exasperated  by  the  wrongs  and  miseries  of 
each  succeeding  generation  !  The  very  name  of 
the  savages  with  which  we  are  fighting  betokens 
their  fallen  and  homeless  condition.  Formed  of 
the  wrecks  of  once  powerful  tribes,  and  driven 
from  their  ancient  seats  of  prosperity  and  do- 
minion, they  are  known  by  the  name  of  the  Semi- 
noles,  or  "  Wanderers." 

Bartram,  who  travelled  through  Florida  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  last  century,  speaks  of  passing 
through  a  great  extent  of  ancient  Indian  fields, 
now  silent  and  deserted,  overgrown  with  forests, 
orange  groves,  and  rank  vegetation,  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Alachua,  the  capital  of  a  famous  and 
powerful  tribe,  who  in  days  of  old  could  assemble 
thousands  at  bull-play  and  other  athletic  exer- 
cises "  over  these  then  happy  fields  and  green 
plains."  "  Almost  every  step  we  take,"  adds  he, 
"  over  these  fertile  heights,  discovers  the  remains 
and  traces  ot  ancient  human  habitations  and  cul- 
tivation. " 

About  the  year  1763,  when  Florida  was  ceded 
by  the  Spaniards  to  the  English,  we  are  told  that 
the  Indians  generally  retired  from  the  towns  and 
the  neighborhood  of  the  whites,  and  burying 
themselves  in  the  deep  forests,  intricate  swamps 
and  hommocks,  and  vast  savannas  of  the  in- 
terior, devoted  themselves  to  a  pastoral  life,  and 
the  rearing  of  horses  and  cattle.  These  are  the 
people  that  received  the  name  of  the  Seminoles, 
or  Wanderers,  which  they  still  retain. 

Bartram  gives  a  pleasing  picture  of  them  at  the 
time  he  visited  them  in  their  wilderness  ;  where 
their  distance  from  the  abodes  of  the  white  man 
gave  them  a  transient  quiet  and  security.  "  This 


handful  of  people,"  says  he,  "  possesses  a  vast 
territory,  all  East  and  the  greatest  part  of  West 
Florida,  which  being  naturally  cut  and  divided 
into  thousands  of  islets,  knolls,  and  eminences, 
by  the  innumerable  rivers,  lakes,  swamps,  vast 
savannas,  and  ponds,  form  so  many  secure  re- 
treats and  temporary  dwelling  nlace^s  that  effectu- 
ally guard  them  from  any  sudden  invasions  or  at- 
tacks from  their  enemies  ;  and  being  such  a 
swampy,  hommocky  country,  furnishes  such  a 
plenty  and  variety  of  supplies  for  the  nourishment 
of  varieties  of  animals,  that  I  can  venture  to  as- 
sert that  no  part  of  the  globe  so  abounds  with 
wild  game,  or  creatures  fit  for  the  food  of  man. 

"  Thus  they  enjoy  a  superabundance  of  the 
necessaries  and  conveniences  of  life,  with  the  se- 
curity of  person  and  property,  the  two  great  con- 
cerns of  mankind.  The  hides  of  deer,  bears, 
tigers,  and  wolves,  together  with  honey,  wax,  and 
other  productions  of  the  country,  purchase  their 
clothing  equipage  and  domestic  utensils  Irom  the 
whites.  They  seem  to  be  free  from  want  or  de- 
sires. No  cruel  enemy  to  dread  ;  nothing  to  give 
them  disquietude,  but  the  gradual  encroachments 
of  the  white  people.  Thus  contented  and  undis- 
turbed, they  appear  as  blithe  and  free  as  the  birds 
of  the  air,  and  like  them  as  volatile  and  active, 
tuneful  and  vociferous.  The  visage,  action,  and 
deportment  of  the  Seminoles  form  the  most  strik- 
ing picture  of  happiness  in  this  life  ;  joy,  content- 
ment, love,  and  friendship,  without  guile  or 
affectation,  seem  inherent  in  them,  or  predominant 
in  their  vital  principle,  for  it  leaves  them  with  but 
the  last  breath  of  life.  .  .  .  They  are  fond  of 
games  and  gambling,  and  amuse  themselves  like 
children,  in  relating  extravagant  stories,  to  cause 
surprise  and  mirth."  * 

The  same  writer  gives  an  engaging  picture  of 
his  treatment  by  these  savages  : 

"  Soon  after  entering  the  forests,  we  were  met 
in  the  path  by  a  small  company  of  Indians,  smil- 
ing and  beckoning  to  us  long  before  we  joined 
them.  This  was  a  family  of  Talahasochte,  who 
had  been  out  on  a  hunt  and  were  returning  home 
loaded  with  barbecued  meat,  hides,  and  honey. 
Their  company  consisted  of  the  man,  his  wife  and 
children,  well  mounted  on  fine  horses,  with  a 
number  of  pack-horses.  The  man  offered  us  a 
fawn  skin  of  honey,  which  I  accepted,  and  at  part- 
ing presented  him  with  some  fish-hooks,  sewing- 
needles,  etc. 

"  On  our  return  to  camp  in  the  evening,  we 
were  saluted  by  a  party  of  young  Indian  warriors, 
who  had  pitched  their  tents  on  a  green  'eminence 
near  the  lake,  at  a  small  distance  from  our  camp, 
under  a  little  grove  of  oaks  and  palms.  This  com- 
pany consisted  ot  seven  young  Seminoles,  under 
the  conduct  of  a  young  prince  or  chief  of  Tala- 
hasochte, a  town  southward  in  the  isthmus.  They 
were  all  dressed  and  painted  with  singular  ele- 
gance, and  richly  ornamented  with  silver  plates, 
chains,  etc.,  after  the  Seminole  mode,  with  wav- 
ing plumes  ot  feathers  on  their  crests.  On  our 
coming  up  to  them,  they  arose  and  shook  hands  ; 
we  alighted  and  sat  awhile  with  them  by  their 
cheerful  fire. 

"  The  young  prince  informed  our  chief  that  he 
was  in  pursuit  of  a  young  fellow  who  had  fled 
from  the  town  carrying  off  with  him  one  ot  his 
favorite  young  wives.  He  said,  merrily,  he  would 
have  the  ears  of  both  of  them  before  he  returned. 
He  was  rather  above  the  middle  stature,  and  the 
most  perfect  human  figure  I  ever  saw  ;  of  an 


*  Bartram's  Travels  in  North  America. 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


amiable,  engaging  countenance,  air,  and  deport- 
ment ;  free  and  tamiliar  in  conversation,  yet  re- 
taining a  becoming  gracefulness  and  dignity. 
We  arose,  took  leave  of  them,  and  crossed  a  little 
vale,  covered  with  a  charming  green  turf,  already 
illuminated  by  the  soft  light  of  the  full  moon. 

"  Soon  after  joining  our  companions-  at  camp, 
our  neighbors',  the  prince  and  his  associates,  paid 
us  a  visit.  We  treated  them  with  the  best  fare 
\ve  had,  having  till  this  time  preserved  our  spiritu- 
ous liquors.  They  left  us  with  perfect  cordiality 
and  cheerfulness,  wishing  us  a  good  repose,  and 
retired  to  their  own  camp.  Having  a  band  of 
music  with  them, consisting  of  a  drum,  flutes,  and  a 
rattle-gourd,  they  entertained  us  during  the  night 
with  their  music,  vocal  and  instrumental. 

There  is  a  languishing  softness  and  melancholy 
air  in  the  Indian  convivial  songs,  especially  of  the 
amorous  class,  irresistibly  moving  attention,  and 
exquisitely  pleasing,  especially  in  their  solitary  re- 
cesses, when  all  nature  is  silent." 

Travellers  who  have  been  among  them,  in  more 
recent  times,  before  they  had  embarked  in  their 
present  desperate  struggle,  represent  them  in 
much  the  same  light  ;  as  leading  a  pleasant,  in- 
dolent life,  in  a  climate  that  required  little  shelter 
or  clothing,  and  where  the  spontaneous  fruits  of 
the  earth  furnished  subsistence  without  toil.  A 
cleanly  race,  delighting  in  bathing,  passing  much 
of  their  time  under  the  shade  of  their  trees,  with 
heaps  of  oranges  and  other  fine  fruits  for  their  re- 
freshment ;  talking,  laughing,  dancing  and  sleep- 
ing. Every  chief  had  a  fan  hanging  to  his  side, 
made  of  feathers  of  the  wild  turkey,  the  beautiful 
pink-colored  crane,  or  the  scarlet  flamingo.  With 
this  he  would  sit  and  fan  himself  with  great  state- 
liness,  whila  the  young  people  danced  before  him. 
The  women  joined  in  the  dances  with  the  men, 
excepting  the  war-dances.  They  wore  strings  of 
tortoise-shells  and  pebbles  round  their  legs,  which 
rattled  in  cadence  to  the  music.  They  were 
treated  with  more  attention  among  the  Seminoles 
than  among  most  Indian  tribes. 


ORIGIN  OF  THE  WHITE,  THE   RED,  AND 
THE  BLACK  MEN, 

•     A    SEMINOLE    TRADITION. 

WHEN  the  Floridas  were  erected  into  a  territory 
of  the  United  States,  one  of  the  earliest  cares  of 
the  Governor,  William  P,  Duval,  was  directed  to 
the  instruction  and  civilization  of  the  natives. 
For  this  purpose  he  called  a  meeting  of  the  chiefs, 
in  which  he  informed  them  of  the  wish  of  their 
Great  Father  at  Washington  that  they  should 
have  schools  and  teachers  among  them,  and  that 
their  children  should  be  instructed  like  the  chil- 
dren of  white  men.  The  chiefs  listened  with  their 
customary  silence  and  decorum  to  a  long  speech, 
setting  forth  the  advantages  that  would  accrue  to 
them  from  this  measure,  and  when  he  had  con- 
cluded, begged  the  interval  of  a  day  to  deliberate 
on  it. 

On  the  following  day  a  solemn  convocation  was 
held,  at  which  one  of  the  chiefs  addressed  the 
governor  in  the  name  of  all  the  rest.  "  My 
brother,"  said  he,  "we  have  been  thinking  over 
the  proposition  of  our  Great  Father  at  Washing- 
ton, to  send  teachers  and  set  up  schools  among 
us.  We  are  very  thankful  for  the  interest  he 
takes  in  our  welfare  ;  but  after  much  delibera- 


tion, have  concluded  to  decline  his  offer.  \\  .  » 
will  do  very  well  for  white  men,  will  not  do  k - 
red  men.  I  know  you  white  men  say  we  all  come 
from  the  same  father  and  mother,  but  you  are 
mistaken.  We  have  a  tradition  handed  down 
from  our  forefathers,  and  we  believe  it,  that  the 
Great  Spirit  when  he  undertook  to  make  men, 
made  the  black  man  ;  it  was  his  first  attempt,  and 
pretty  well  for  a  beginning  ;  but  he  soon  saw  he 
had  bungled  ;  so  he  determined  to  try  his  hand 
again.  He  did  so,  and  made  the  red  man.  He 
liked  him  much  better  than  the  black  man,  but 
still  he  was  not  exactly  what  he  wanted.  So  he 
tried  once  more,  and  made  the  white  man  ;  and 
then  he  was  satisfied.  You  see,  therefore,  that 
you  were  made  last,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  call 
you  my  youngest  brother. 

"  When  the  Great  Spirit  had  made  the  three 
men,  he  called  them  together  and  showed  them 
three  boxes.  The  first  was  filled  with  books,  and 
maps,  and  papers  ;  the  second  with  bows  and  ar- 
rows, knives  and  tomaha\\ks  ;  the  third  with 
spades,  axes,  hoes,  and  hammers.  "  These,  my 
sons,"  said  he,  "  are  the  means  by  which  you  are 
to  live  :  choose  among  them  according  to  your 
fancy." 

"  The  white  man,  being  the  favorite,  had  the 
first  choice.  He  passed  by  the  box  of  working- 
tools  without  notice  ;  but  when  he  came  to  the 
weapons  for  war  and  hunting,  he  stopped  and 
looked  hard  at  them.  The  red  man  trembled,  for 
he  had  set  his  heart  upon  that  box.  The  white 
man,  however,  after  looking  upon  it  for  a  moment, 
passed  on,  and  chose  the  box  of  books  and  papers. 
The  red  man's  turn  came  next  ;  and  you  may  be 
sure  he  seized  with  joy  upon  the  bows  and  arrows 
and  tomahawks.  As  to  the  black  man,  he  had  no 
choice  left  but  to  put  up  with  the  box  of  tools. 

"  From  this  it  is  clear  that  the  Great  Spirit  in- 
tended the  white  man  should  learn  to  read  and 
write  ;  to  understand  all  about  the  moon  and 
stars  ;  and  to  make  everything,  even  rum  and 
whiskey.  That  the  red  man  should  be  a  first-rate 
hunter,  and  a  mighty  warrior,  but  he  was  not  to 
learn  anything  from  books,  as  the  Great  Spirit 
had  not  given  him  any  :  nor  was  he  to  make  rum 
and  whiskey,  lest  he  should  kill  himself  with 
drinking.  As  to  the  black  man,  as  he  had  noth- 
ing but  working  tools,  it  was  clear  he  was  to 
work  for  the  white  and  red  man,  which  he  has 
continued  to  do. 

"  We  must  go  according  to  the  wishes  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  or  we  shall  get  into  trouble.  To 
know  how  to  read  and  write  is  very  good  for 
white  men,  but  very  bad  tor  red  men.  It  makes 
white  men  better,  but  red  men  worse.  Some  of 
the  Creeks  and  Cherokees  learned  to  read  and 
write,  and  they  are  the  greatest  rascals  among  all 
the  Indians.  They  went  on  to  Washington,  and 
said  they  were  going  to  see  their  Great  Father,  to 
talk  about  the  good  of  the  nation.  And  when  they 
got  there,  they  all  wrote  upon  a  little  piece  of 
paper,  without  the  nation  at  home  knowing  any- 
thing about  it.  And  the  first  thing  the  nation  at 
home  knew  of  the  matter,  they  we-re  called 
together  by  the  Indian  agent,  who  showed  them 
a  little  piece  of  paper,  which  he  told  them  was  a 
treaty,  which  their  brethren  had  made  in  their 
name,  with  their  Great  Father  at  Washington. 
And  as  they  knew  not  what  a  treaty  was,  he  held 
up  the  little  piece  of  paper,  and  they  looked  under 
it,  and  lo  !  it  covered  a  great  extent  of  country, 
and  they  found  that  their  brethren,  by  knowing 
how  to  read  and  write,  had  sold  their  houses  and 
their  lands  and  the  graves  of  their  fathers  ;  and 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


that  the  white  man,  by  knowing  how  to  read  and 
write,  had  gained  them.  Tell  our  Great  Father 
at  Washington,  therefore,  that  we  are  very  sorry 
we  cannot  receive  teachers  among  us  ;  for  reading 
and  writing,  though  very  good  ior  white  men,  is 
very  bad  for  the  Indians." 


THE  CONSPIRACY  OF  NEAMATHLA, 

AN    AUTHENTIC    SKETCH. 

IN  the  autumn  of  1823,  Governor  Duval,  and 
other  commissioners  on  the  part  of  (he  United 
States,  concluded  a  treaty  with  the  chiefs  and 
warriors  of  the  Florida  Indians,  by  which  the  lat- 
ter, for  certain  considerations,  ceded  all  claims  to 
the  whole  territory,  excepting  a  district  in  the 
eastern  part,  to  which  they  were  to  remove,  and 
within  which  they  were  to  reside  for  twenty  years. 
Several  of  the  chiefs  signed  the  treaty  with  great 
reluctance  ;  but  none  opposed  it  more  strongly 
that  Neamathla,  principal  chief  of  the  Micka- 
sookies,  a  fierce  and  warlike  people,  many  of  the 
Creeks  by  origin,  who  lived  about  the  Mickasookie 
lake.  Neamathla  had  always  been  active  in  those 
depredations  on  the  frontiers  of  Georgia  which 
had  brought  vengeance  and  ruin  on  the  Semi- 
noles.  He  was  a  remarkable  man  ;  upward  of 
sixty  years  of  age,  about  six  feet  high,  with  a  fine 
eye,  and  a  strongly  marked  countenance,  over 
which  he  possessed  great  command.  His  hatred 
of  the  white  men  appeared  to  be  mixed  with  con- 
tempt :  on  the  common  people  he  looked  down 
'  with  infinite  scorn.  He  seemed  unwilling  to  ac- 
knowledge any  superiority  of  rank  or  dignity  in 
Governor  Duval,  claiming  to  associate  with  him 
on  terms  of  equality,  as  two  great  chieftains. 
Though  he  had  been  prevailed  upon  to  sign  the 
treaty,  his  heart  revolted  at  it.  In  one  of  his  frank 
conversations  with  Governor  Duval,  he  observed  : 
"  This  country  belongs  to  the  red  man  ;  and  if  I 
had  the  number  of  warriors  at  my  command  that 
this  nation  once  had,  I  would  not  leave  a  white 
man  on  my  lands.  I  would  exterminate  the  whole. 
I  can  say  this  to  you,  for  you  can  understand  me  : 
you  are  a  man  ;  but  I  would  not  say  it  to  your 
people.  They'd  cry  out  I  was  a  savage,  and 
would  take  my  life.  They  cannot  appreciate  the 
leelings  of  a  man  that  loves  his  country." 

As  Florida  had  but  recently  been  erected  into 
a  territory,  everything  as  yet  was  in  rude  and  sim- 
ple style.  The  governor,  to  make  himself  ac- 
quainted with  the  Indians,  and  to  be  near  at  hand 
to  keep  an  eye  upon  them,  fixed  his  residence  at 
Tallahassee,  near  the  Fovvel  towns,  inhabited  by 
the  Mickasookies.  His  government  palace  for  a 
time  was  a  mere  log  house,  and  he  lived  on  hunt- 
ers' fare.  The  village  of  Neamathla  was  but 
about  three  miles  off,  and  thither  the  governor 
occasionally  rode,  to  visit  the  old  chieftain.  In 
.  one  of  these  visits  he  found  Neamathla  seated  in 
his  wigwam,  in  the  centre  of  the  village,  sur- 
rounded by  his  warriors.  The  governor  had 
brought  him  some  liquor  as  a  present,  but  it 
mounted  quickly  into  his  brain,  and  rendered  him 
quite  boastiul  and  belligerent.  The  theme  ever 
uppermost  in  his  mind,  was  the  treaty  with  the 
whites.  "It  was  true,"  he  said,  "the  red  men 
had  made  such  a  treaty,  but  the  white  men  had 
not  acted  up  to  it.  The  red  men  had  received 
none  of  the  money  and  the  cattle  that  had  been 
promised  them  :  the  treaty,  therefore,  was  at  an 
end,  and  they  did  not  mean  to  be  bound  by  it." 


Governor  Duval  calmly  represented  to  him  that 
the  time  appointed  in  the  treaty  tor  the  payment 
and  delivery  of  the  money  and  the  cattle  had  not 
yet  arrived.  This  the  old  chieftain  knew  full 
well,  but  he  chose,  lor  the  moment,  to  pretend 
ignorance.  He  kept  on  drinking  and  talking,  his 
voice  growing  louder  and  louder,  until  it  resound- 
ed all  over  the  village.  He  held  in  his  hand  a 
long  knife,  with  which  he  had  beer;  rasping  to- 
bacco ;  this  he  kept  flourishing  backward  and 
forward,  as  he  talked,  by  way  of  giving  effect  to 
his  words,  brandishing  it  at  times  within  an  inch 
of  the  governor's  throat.  He  concluded  his  tirade 
by  repeating,  that  the  country  belonged  to  the 
red  men,  and  that  sooner  than  give  it  up,  his 
bones  and  the  bones  of  his  people  should  bleach 
upon  its  soil.' 

Duval  saw  that  the  object  of  all  this  bluster  was 
to  see  whether  he  could  be  intimidated.  He  kept 
his  eye,  therefore,  fixed  steadily  on  the  chief,  and 
the  moment  he  concluded  with  his  menace,  seized 
him  by  the  bosom  of  hunting  shirt,  and  clinching 
his  other  fist  : 

"  I've  heard  what  you  have  said,"  replied  he. 
"  You  have  made  a  treaty,  yet  as  you  say  your 
bones  shall  bleach  before  you  comply  with  it.  As 
sure  as  there  is  a  sun  in  heaven,  your  bones  shall 
bleach,  if  you  do  not  fulfil  every  article  of  that 
treaty  !  I'll  let  you  know  that  I  am  first  here, 
and  will  see  that  you  do  your  duty  !" 

Upon  this,  the  old  chieftain  threw  himself  back, 
burst  into  a  fit  of  laughing,  and  declared  that  all 
he  had  said  was  in  joke.  The  governor  suspect- 
ed, however,  that  there  was  a  grave  meaning  at 
the  bottom  of  this  jocularity. 

For  two  months,  everything  went  on  smoothly  : 
the  Indians  repaired  daily  to  the  log-cabin  palace 
of  the  governor,  at  Tallahassee,  and  appeared 
perfecty  contented.  All  at  once  they  ceased  their 
visits,  and  for  three  or  four  days  not  one  was  to 
be  seen.  Governor  Duval  began  to  apprehend 
that  some  mischief  was  brewing.  On  the  evening 
of  the  fourth  day  a  chief  named  Yellow-Hair,  a 
resolute,  intelligent  fellow,  who  had  always 
evinced  an  attachment  for  the  governor,  entered 
his  cabin  about  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  and  in- 
formed him  that  between  four  and  five  hundred 
warriors,  painted  and  decorated,  were  assembled 
to  hold  a  secret  war-talk  at  Neamathla's  town. 
He  had  slipped  off  to  give  intelligence,  at  the 
risk  of  his  life,  and  hastened  back  lest  his  absence 
should  be  discovered. 

Governor  Duval  passed  an  anxious  night  after 
this  intelligence.  He  knew  the  talent  and  the 
daring  character  of  Neamathla  ;  he  recollected 
the  threats  he  had  thrown  out  ;  he  reflected  that 
about  eighty  white  families  were  scattered  widely 
apart,  over  a  great  extent  of  country,  and  might 
be  swept  away  at  once,  should  the  Indians,  as  he 
feared,  determine  to  clear  the  country.  That  he 
did  not  exaggerate  the  dangers  of  the  case,  has 
been  proved  by  the  horrid  scenes  of  Indian  war- 
fare that  have  since  desolated  that  devoted  region. 
After  a  night  of  sleepless  cogitation,  Duval  deter- 
mined on  a  measure  suited  to  his  prompt  and 
resolute  character.  Knowing  the  admiration  of 
the  savages  for  personal  courage,  he  determined, 
by  a  sudden  surprise,  to  endeavor  to  overawe  and 
check  them.  It  was  hazarding  much  ;  but  where 
so  many  lives  were  in  jeopardy,  he  felt  bound  to 
incur  the  hazard. 

Accordingly,  on  the  next  morning,  he  set  off  on 
horseback,  attended  merely  by  a  white  man,  who 
had  been  reared  among  the  Seminoles,  and  un- 
derstood their  language  and  manners,  and  who 


42G 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


acted  as  interpreter.  They  struck  into  an  Indian 
"  trail,"  leading-  to  Neamathla's  village.  After 
proceeding  about  half  a  mile,  Governor  Duval  in- 
formed the  interpreter  of  the  object  ot  his  expedi- 
tion. The  latter,  though  a  bold  man,  paused  and 
remonstrated.  The  Indians  among  whom  they 
were  going  were  among  the  most  desperate  and 
discontented  of  the  nation.  Many  of  them  were 
veteran  warriors,  impoverished  and  exasperated 
by  defeat,  and  ready  to  set  their  lives  at  any 
hazard.  He  said  that  if  they  were  holding  a  war 
council,  it  must  be  with  desperate  intent,  and  it 
would  be  certain  death  to  intrude  among  them. 

Duval  made  light  of  his  apprehensions  :  he  said 
he  was  perfectly  well  acquainted  with  the  Indian 
character,  and  should  certainly  proceed.  So  say- 
ing, he  rode  on.  When  within  half  a  mile  of  the 
village,  the  interpreter  addressed  him  again,  in 
such  a  tremulous  tone  that  Duval  turned  and 
looked  him  in  the  face.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and 
once  more  urged  the  governor  to  return,  as  they 
would  certainly  be  massacred  if  they  proceeded. 

Duval  repeated  his  determination  to  go  on,  but 
advised  the  other  to  return,  lest  his  pale  face 
should  betray  fear  to  the  Indians,  and  they  might 
ta!:^  advantage  of  it.  The  interpreter  replied 
that  he  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than 
have  it  said  he  had  deserted  his  leader  when  in 
peril. 

Duval  then  told  him  he  must  translate  faithfully 
all  he  should  say  to  the  Indians,  without  softening 
a  word.  The  interpreter  promised  faithfully  to 
do  so,  adding  that  he  well  knew,  when  they  were 
once  in  the  town,  nothing  but  boldness  could  save 
them. 

They  now  rode  into  the  village,  and  advanced 
to  the  council-house.  This  was  rather  a  group  of 
four  houses,  forming  a  square,  in  the  centre  of 
which  was  a  great  council-fire.  The  houses  were 
open  in  front,  toward  the  fire,  and  closed  in  the 
rear.  At  each  corner  of  the  square  there  was  an 
interval  between  the  houses,  for  ingress  and 
egress.  In  these  houses  sat  the  old  men  and  the 
chiefs  ;  the  young  men  were  gathered  round  the 
fire.  Neamathla  presided  at  the  council,  ele- 
vated on  a  higher  seat  than  the  rest. 

Governor  Duval  entered  by  one  of  the  corner 
intervals,  and  rode  boldly  into  the  centre  of  the 
square.  The  young  men  made  way  for  him  ;  an 
old  man  who  was  speaking,  paused  in  the  midst 
of  his  harangue.  In  an  instant  thirty  or  forty 
rifles  were  cocked  and  levelled.  Never  had  Duval 
heard  so  loud  a  click  of  triggers  .  it  seemed  to 
strike  on  his  heart.  He  gave  one  glance  at  the 
Indians,  and  turned  off  with  an  air  of  contempt. 
He  did  not  dare,  he  says,  to  look  again,  lest  it 
might  affect  his  nerves  ;  and  on  the  firmness  of 
his  nerves  everything  depended. 

The  chief  threw  up  his  arm.  The  rifles  were 
lowered.  Duval  breathed  more  freely  :  he  felt 
disposed  to  leap  from  his  horse,  but  restrained 
himself,  and  dismounted  leisurely.  He  then 
walked  deliberately  up  to  Neamathla,  and  de- 
manded, in  an  authoritative  tone,  what  were  his 
motives  for  holding  that  council.  The  moment 
he  made  this  demand,  the  orator  sat  down.  The 
chief  made  no  reply,  but  hung-  his  head  in  appar- 
ent contusion.  After  a  moment's  pause,  Duval 
proceeded  : 

"  I  am  well  aware  of  the  meaning  of  this  war- 
council  ;  and  deem  it  my  duty  to  warn  you 
against  proscuting  the  schemes  you  have  been  de- 
vising. If  a  single  hair  of  a  white  man  in  this 
country  falls  to  the  ground,  I  will  hang  you  and 
your  chiefs  on  the  trees  around  your  council 


house  !  You  cannot  pretend  to  withstand  the 
power  of  the  white  men.  You  are  in  the  palm  of 
the  hand  of  your  Great  Father  at  Washington, 
who  can  crush  you  like  an  egg-shell.  You  may 
kill  me  :  I  am  but  one  man  ;  but  recollect,  white 
men  are  numerous  as  the  leaves  on  the  trees. 
Remember  the  fate  of  your  warriors  whose  bones 
are  whitening  in  battle-fields.  Remember  your 
wives  and  children  who  perished  in  swamps.  Do 
you  want  to  provoke  more  hostilities  ?  Another 
war  with  the  white  men,  and  there  will  not  be  a 
Seminole  left  to  tell  the  story  of  his  race." 

Seeing  the  effect  of  his  words,  he  concluded  by 
appointing  a  day  for  the  Indians  to  meet  him  at 
St.  Marks,  and  give  an  account  of  their  conduct. 
He  then  rode  off,  without  giving  them  time  to  re- 
cover from  their  surprise.  That  night  he  rode 
forty  miles  to  Apalachicola  River,  to  the  tribe  of 
the  same  name,  who  were  in  feud  with  the  Semi- 
noles.  They  promptly  put  two  hundred  and  fifty 
warriors  at  his  disposal,  whom  he  ordered  to  be 
at  St.  Marks  at  the  appointed  clay.  He  sent  out 
runners,  also,  and  mustered  one  hundred  ot  the 
militia  to  repair  to  the  same  place,  together  with 
a  number  of  regulars  from  the  army.  All  his  ar- 
rangements were  successful. 

Having  taken  these  measures,  he  returned  to 
Tallahassee,  to  the  neighborhood  ol  the  conspira- 
tors, to  show  them  that  he  was  not  afraid.  Here 
he  ascertained,  through  Yellow-Hair,  that  nine 
towns  were  disaffected,  and  had  been  concerned 
in  the  conspiracy.  He  was  careful  to  inform  him- 
self, from  the  same  source,  of  the  names  of  the 
warriors  in  each  of  those  towns  who  were  most 
popular,  though  poor,  and  destitute  ot  rank  and 
command. 

When  the  appointed  day  was  at  hand  for  the 
meeting  at  St.  Marks,  Governor  Duval  set  off 
with  Neamathla,  who  was  at  the  head  ot  eight  or 
nine  hundred  warriors,  but  who  feared  to  venture 
into  the  fort  without  him.  As  they  entered  the 
fort,  and  saw  troops  and  militia  drawn  up  there, 
and  a  force  of  Apalachicola  soldiers  stationed  on 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  they  thought  they 
were  betrayed,  and  were  about  to  fly  ;  but  Duval 
assured  them  they  were  safe,  and  that  when  the 
talk  was  over,  they  might  go  home  unmolested. 

A  grand  talk  was  now  held,  in  which  the  late 
conspiracy  was  discussed.  As  he  had  foreseen, 
Neamathla  and  the  other  old  chiefs  threw  all  the 
blame  upon  the  young  men.  "  Well,"  replied 
Duval,  "  with  us  white  men,  when  we  find  a  man 
incompetent  to  govern  those  under  him,  we  put 
him  down,  and  appoint  another  in  his  place. 
Now  as  you  all  acknowledge  you  cannot  manage 
your  young  men,  we  must  put  chiefs  over  them 
who  can." 

So  saying,  he  deposed  Neamathla  first  ;  ap- 
pointing another  in  his  place  ;  and  so  on  with  all 
the  rest  ;  taking  care  to  substitute  the  warriors 
who  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  as  poor  and 
popular  ;  putting  medals  round  their  necks,  and 
investing  them  with  great  ceremony.  The  In-' 
dians  were  surprised  and  delighted  at  finding  the 
appointments  fall  upon  the  very  men  they  would 
themselves  have  chosen,  and  hailed  them  with 
acclamations.  The  warriors  thus  unexpectedly 
elevated  to  command,  and  clothed  with  dignity, 
were  secured  to  the  interests  ol  the  governor,  and 
sure  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  disaffected.  As  to  the 
great  chief  Neamathla,  he  left  the  country  in  dis- 
gust, and  returned  to  the  Creek  nation,  who 
elected  him  a  chief  of  one  of  their  towns.  Thus 
by  the  resolute  spirit  and  prompt  sagacity  of  one 
man,  a  dangerous  conspiracy  was  completely  de- 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


427 


feated.  Governor  Duval  was  afterward  enabled 
to  remove  the  whole  nation,  through  his  own  per- 
sonal influence,  without  the  aid  of  the  general 
government. 


To  the  Editor  of  the  Knickerbocker. 

SIR  :  The  following  letter  was  scribbled  to  a 
friend  during  my  sojourn  in  the  Alhambra,  in 
1828.  As  it  presents  scenes  and  impressions 
noted  down  at  the  time,  I  venture  to  offer  it  for 
the  consideration  of  your  readers.  Should  it  prove 
acceptable,  I  may  from  time  to  time  give  other 
letters,  written  in  the  course  of  my  various  ram- 
blings,  and  which  have  been  kindly  restored  to  me 
by  my  friends.  Yours,  G.  C. 

LETTER  FROM  GRANADA, 

GRANADA,  1828. 

MY  DEAR :  Religious  festivals  furnish, in  all 

Catholic  countries,  occasions  of  popular  pageant 
and  recreation  ;  but  in  none  more  so  than  in  Spain, 
where  the  great  end  of  religion  seems  to  be  to 
create  holidays  and  ceremonials.  For  two  days 
past,  Granada  has  been  in  a  gay  turmoil  with  the 
great  annual  fete  of  Corpus  Christ!.  This  most 
eventful  and  romantic  city,  as  you  well  know,  has 
every  been  the  rallying  point  of  a  mountainous 
region,  studded  with  small  towns  and  villages. 
Hither,  during  the  time  that  Granada  was  the 
splendid  capital  of  a  Moorish  kingdom,  the  Mos- 
lem youth  repaired  from  all  points,  to  participate 
in  chivalrous  festivities  ;  and  hither  the  Spanish 
populace  at  the  present  day  throng  from  all  parts 
of  the  surrounding  country  to  attend  the  festivals 
of  the  church. 

As  the  populace  like  to  enjoy  things  from  the 
very  commencement,  the  stir  of  Corpus  Christi 
began  in  Granada  on  the  preceding  evening.  Be- 
fore dark  the  gates  of  the  city  were  thronged  with 
the  picturesque  peasantry  from  the  mountain  vil- 
lages, and  the  brown  laborers  from  the  Vega,  or 
vast  fertile  plain.  As  the  evening  advanced,  the 
Vivarambla  thickened  and  swarmed  with  a  mot- 
ley multitude.  This  is  the  great  square  in  the 
centre  of  the  city,  famous  for  tilts  and  tourneys 
during  the  times  of  Moorish  domination,  and  in- 
cessantly mentioned  in  all  the  old  Moorish  bal- 
lads of  love  and  chivalry.  For  several  days  the 
hammer  had  resounded  throughout  this  square. 
A  gallery  of  wood  had  been  erected  all  round  it, 
forming  a  covered  way  for  the  grand  procession 
of  Corpus  Christi.  On  this  eve  of  the  ceremonial 
this  gallery  was  a  fashionable  promenade.  It  was 
brilliantly  illuminated,  bands  of  music  were  sta- 
tioned in  balconies  on  the  four  sides  of  the  square, 
and  all  the  fashion  and  beauty  of  Granada,  and 
all  its  population  that  could  boast  a  little  finery 
of  apparel,  together  with  the  majos  and  majas, 
the  beaux  a-nd  belles  of  the  villages,  in  their  gay 
Andalusian  costumes,  thronged  this  covered 
walk,  anxious  to  see  and  to  be  seen.  As  to  the 
sturdy  peasantry  of  the  Vega,  and  such  of  the 
mountaineers  as  did  not  pretend  to  display,  but 
were  content  with  hearty  enjoyment,  they  swarm- 
ed in  the  centre  of  the  square  ;  some  in  groups 
listening  to  the  guitar  and  the  traditional  ballad  ; 
some  dancing  their  favorite  bole"ro  ;  some  seated 
on  the  ground  making  a  merry  though  frugal 
su  pper  ;  and  some  stretched  out  for  their  night's 
repose. 

The  gay  crowd  of  the  gallery  dispersed  gradu- 


ally toward  midnight  ;  but  the  centre  of  the  square 
resembled  the  bivouac  of  an  army  ;  for  hundreds 
of  the  peasantry,  men,  women,  and  children,  pass- 
ed the  night  there,  sleeping  soundly  on  the  bare 
earth,  under  the  open  canopy  of  heaven.  A 
summer's  night  requires  no  shelter  in  this  genial 
climate  ;  and  with  a  great  part  of  the  hardy  peas- 
antry of  Spain,  a  bed  is  a  superfluity  which  many 
of  them  never  enjoy,  and  which  they  affect  to  de- 
spise. The  common  Spaniard  spreads  out  his 
manta,  or  mule-cloth,  or  wraps  himself  in  his 
cloak,  and  lies  on  the  ground,  with  his  saddle  for 
a  pillow. 

The  next  morning  I  revisited  the  square  at  sun- 
rise. It  was  still  strewed  with  groups  of  sleep- 
ers ;  some  were  reposing  from  the  dance  and  revel 
of  the  evening  ;  others  had  left  their  villages  after 
work,  on  the  preceding  day,  and  having  trudged 
on  foot  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  were  taking 
a  sound  sleep  to  freshen  them  for  the  festivities  of 
the  day.  Numbers  from  the  mountains,  and  the 
remote  villages  of  the  plain,  who  had  set  out  in 
the  night,  continued  to  arrive,  with  their  vfives 
and  children.  All  were  in  high  spirits  ;  greeting 
each  other,  and  exchanging  jokes  and  pleasant- 
ries. The  gay  tumult  thickened  as  the  day  ad- 
vanced. Now  came  pouring  in  at  the  city  gates, 
and  parading  through  the  streets,  the  deputations 
from  the  various  villages,  destined  to  swell  the 
grand  procession.  These  village  deputations 
were  headed  by  their  priests,  bearing  their  re- 
spective crosses  and  banners,  and  images  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  of  patron  saints  ;  all  which 
were  matters  of  great  rivalship  and  jealousy 
among  the  peasantry.  It  was  like  the  chivalrous 
gatherings  of  ancient  days,  when  each  town  and 
village  sent  its  chiefs,  and  warriors,  and  stand- 
ards, to  defend  the  capital,  or  grace  its  festivi- 
lies. 

At  length,  all  these  various  detachments  con- 
gregated into  one  grand  pageant,  which  slowly 
paraded  round  the  Vivarambla,  and  through  the 
principal  streets,  where  every  window  and  bal- 
cony was  hung  with  tapestry.  In  this  procession 
were  all  the  religious  orders,  the  civil  and  mili- 
tary authorities,  and  the  chief  people  of  the  par- 
ishes and  villages  ;  every  church  and  convent 
had  contributed  its  banners,  its  images,  its  rel- 
iques,  and  poured  forth  its  wealth,  for  the  occa- 
sion. In  the  centre  of  the  procession  walked  the 
archbishop,  under  a  damask  canopy,  and  sur- 
rounded by  inferior  dignitaries  and  their  depend- 
ants. The  whole  moved  to  the  swell  and  cadence 
of  numerous  bands  of  music,  and,  passing  through 
the  midst  of  a  countless  yet  silent  multitude,  pro- 
ceeded onward  to  the  cathedral. 

I  could  not  but  be  struck  with  the  changes  of 
times  and  customs,  as  I  saw  this  monkish  pageant 
passing  through  the  Vivarambla,  the  ancient  seat 
of  modern  pomp  and  chivalry.  The  contrast  was 
indeed  forced  upon  the  mind  by  the  decorations 
of  the  square.  The  whole  front  of  the  wooden 
gallery  erected  for  the  procession,  extending  sev- 
eral hundred  feet,  was  faced  with  canvas,  on 
which  some  humble  though  patriotic  artist  had 
painted,  by  contract,  a  series  of  the  principal 
scenes  and  exploits  of  the  conquest,  as  recorded 
in  chronicle  and  romance.  It  is  thus  the  romantic 
legends  of  Granada  mingle  themselves  with 
everything,  and  are  kept  fresh  in  the  public  mind. 
Another  great  festival  at  Grenada,  answering  in 
its  popular  character  to  our  Fourth  of  July,  is  El 
Dia  de  la  Toma;  "  The  day  of  the  Capture  ;" 
that  is  to  say,  the  anniversary  of  the*capture  of. 
the  city  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  On  this  day 


428 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


all  Granada  is  abandoned  to  revelry.  The  alarm- 
bell  on  the  Terre  de  la  Campana,  or  watch-tower 
of  the  Alhambra,  keeps  up  a  clangor  from  morn 
till  night  ;  and  happy  is  the  damsel  that  can  ring 
that  bell  ;  it  is  a  charm  to  secure  a  husband  in 
the  course  of  the  year. 

The  sound,  which  can  be  heard  over  the  whole 
Vega,  and  to  the  top  ot  the  mountains,  summons 
the  peasantry  to  the  festivities.  Throughout  the 
day  the  Alhambra  is  thrown  open  to  the  public. 
The  halls  and  courts  of  the  Moorish  monarchs 
resound  with  the  guitar  and  castanet,  and  gay 
groups,  in  the  fanciful  dresses  of  Andalusia,  per- 
iorm  those  popular  dances  which  they  have  in- 
herited from  the  Moors. 

In  the  meantime  a  grand  procession  moves 
through  the  city.  The  banner  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  that  precious  relique  of  the  conquest,  is 
brought  forth  from  its  depository,  and  borne  by 
the  Alferez  Mayor,  or  grand  standard-bearer, 
through  the  principal  streets.  The  portable 
camp-altar,  which  was  carried  about  with  them 
in  all  their  campaigns,  is  transported  into  the 
chapel  royal,  and  placed  before  their  sepulchre, 
where  their  effigies  lie  in  monumental  marble. 
The  procession  fills  the  chapel.  High  mass  is 
performed  in  memory  of  the  conquest  ;  and  at  a 
certain  part  of  the  ceremony  the  Alferez  Mayor 
puts  on  his  hat,  and  waves  the  standard  above 
the  tomb  of  the  conquerors. 

A  more  whimsical  memorial  of  the  conquest 
is  exhibited  on  the  same  evening  at  the  theatre, 
where  a  popular  drama  is  performed,  entitled  Avc 
Maria.  This  turns  on  the  oft-sung  achievement 
of  Hernando  del  Pulgar,  surnamed  El  de  las 
Hazaiias,  "  He  of  the  Exploits,"  the  favorite  hero 
of  the  populace  of  Granada. 

During  the  time  that  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
besieged  the  city,  the  young  Moorish  and  Spanish 
knights  vied  with  each  other  in  extravagant  bra- 
vados. On  one  occasion  Hernando  del  Pulgar, 
at  the  head  of  a  handful  of  youthful  followers, 
made  a  dash  into  Granada  at  the  dead  of  night, 
nailed  the  inscription  of  Ave  Maria,  with  his  dag- 
ger, to  the  gate  of  the  principal  mosque,  as  a  to- 
ken of  having  consecrated  it  to  the  Virgin,  and 
effected  his  retreat  in  safety. 

While  the  Moorish  cavaliers  admired  this  dar- 
ing exploit,  they  felt  bound  to  revenge  it.  On  the 
following  day,  therefore,  Tarfe,  one  of  the  stout- 
est of  the  infidel  warriors,  paraded  in  front  of  the 
Christian  army,  dragging  the  sacred  inscription  of 
Ave  Maria  at  his  horse's  tail.  The  cause  ot  the 
Virgin  was  eagerly  vindicated  by.Garcilaso  de  la 
Vega,  who  slew  the  Moor  in  single  combat,  and 
elevated  the  inscription  of  Ave  Maria,  in  devotion 
and  triumph,  at  the  end  of  his  lance. 

The  drama  founded  on  this  exploit  is  prodig- 
iously popular  with  the  common  people.  Al- 
though it  has  been  acted  time  out  ot  mind,  and 
the  people  have  seen  it  repeatedly,  it  never  fails  to 
draw  crowds,  and  so  completely  to  engross  the 
feelings  of  the  audience,  as  to  have  almost  the  ef- 
fect on  them  of  reality.  When  their  favorite  Pul- 
g-ar  strides  about  with  many  a  mouthy  speech,  in 
the  very  midst  of  the  Moorish  capital,  he  is 
cheered  with  enthusiastic  bravos  ;  and  when  he 
nails  the  tablet  of  Ave  Maria  to  the  door  of  the 
mosque,  the  theatre  absolutely  shakes  with  shouts 
and  thunders  of  applause.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
actors  who  play  the  part  of  the  Moors,  have  to 
bear  the  brunt  ot  the  temporary  indignation  of 
their  auditors  ;  and  when  the  infidel  Tarfe  plucks 
down  the  tablet  to  tie  it  to  his  horse's  tail,  many 
of  the  people  absolutely  rise  in  fury,  and  are  ready 


to  jump  upon  the  stage  to  revenge  this  insult  to 
the  Virgin. 

Beside  this  annual  festival  at  the  capital,  almost 
every  village  of  the  Vega  and  the  mountains  has 
its  own  anniversary,  wherein  its  own  deliverance 
from  the  Moorish  yoke  is  celebrated  with  uncouth 
ceremony  and  rustic  pomp. 

On  these  occasions  a  kind  of  resurrection  takes 
place  of  ancient  Spanish  dresses  and  armor  ; 
great  two-handed  swords,  ponderous  arquebuses, 
with  match-locks,  and  other  weapons  and  accou- 
trements, once  the  equipments  of  the  village  chiv- 
alry, and  treasured  up  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration, since  the  time  of  the  conquest.  In  these 
hereditary  and  historical  garbs  some  of  the  most 
sturdy  of  the  villagers  array  themselves  as  cham- 
pions of  the  faith,  while  its  ancient  opponents  are 
represented  by  another  band  of  villagers,  dressed 
up  as  Moorish  warriors.  A  tent  is  pitched  in  the 
public  square  of  the  village,  within  which  is  an 
altar,  and  an  image  of  the  Virgin.  The  Spanish 
warriors  approach  to  perform  their  devotions  at 
this  shrine,  but  are  opposed  by  the  infidel  Mos- 
lems, who  surround  the  tent.  A  mock  fight  suc- 
ceeds, in  the  course  of  which  the  combatants 
sometimes  forget  that  they  are  merely  playing  a 
part,  and  exchange  dry  blows  of  grievous  weight  ; 
the  fictitious  Moors  especially  are  apt  to  bear 
away  pretty  evident  marks  of  the  pious  zeal  of  their 
antagonists.  The  contest,  however,  invariably 
terminates  in  favor  of  the  good  cause.  The 
Moors  are  defeated  and  taken  prisoners.  The 
image  of  the  Virgin,  rescued  from  thraldom,  is  el- 
evated in  triumph  ;  and  a  grand  procession  suc- 
ceeds, in  which  the  Spanish  conquerors  figure 
with  great  vain-glory  and  applause,  and  their  cap- 
tives are  led  in  chains,  to  the  infinite  delight  and 
edification  of  the  populace.  These  annual  festi- 
vals are  the  delight  of  the  villagers,  who  expend 
considerable  sums  in  their  celebration.  In  some 
villages  they  are  occasionally  obliged  to  suspend 
them  for  want  ot  iunds  ;  but  when  times  grow 
better,  or  they  have  been  enabled  to  save  money 
for  the  purpose,  they  are  revived  with  all  their 
grotesque  pomp  and  extravagance. 

To  recur  to  the  exploit  of  Hernando  del  Pulgar. 
However  extravagant  and  fabulous  it  may  seem, 
it  is  authenticated  by  certain  traditional  usages, 
and  shows  the  vain-glorious  daring  that  prevailed 
between  the  youthful  warriors  of  both  nations,  in 
that  romantic  war.  The  mosque  thus  conse- 
crated to  the  Virgin  was  made  the  cathedral  of 
the  city  after  the  conquest  ;  and  there  is  a  painting 
of  the  Virgin  beside  the  royal  chapel,  which  was 
put  there  by  Hernando  del  Pulgar.  The  lineal 
representative  of  the  hare-brained  cavalier  has  the 
right  to  this  day  to  enter  the  church,  on  certain 
occasions,  on  horseback,  to  sit  within  the  choir, 
and  to  put  on  his  hat  at  the  elevation  of  the  host, 
though  these  privileges  have  often  been  obsti- 
nately contested  by  the  clergy. 

The  present  lineal  representative  of  Hernando 
del  Pulgar  is  the  Marquis  de  Salar,  whom  I  have 
met  occasionally  in  society.  He  is  a  young  man 
of  agreeable  appearance  and  manners,  and  his 
bright  black  eyes  would  give  indication  of  his  in- 
heriting the  fire  of  his  ancestor.  When  the  paint- 
ings were  put  up  in  the  Vivarambla,  illustrating  the 
scenes  of  the  conquest,  an  old  gray-headed  family 
servant  ot  the  Pulgars  was  so  delighted  with  those 
which  related  to  the  family  hero,  that  he  abso- 
utely  shed  tears,  and  hurrying  home  to  the  Mar- 
quis, urged  him  to  hasten  and  behold  the  family 
trophies.  The  sudden  zeal  of  the  old  man  pro- 
voked the  mirth  of  his  young  master  ;  upon  which, 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


429 


turning  to  the  brother  of  the  Marquis,  with  that 
freedom  allowed  to  family  servants  in  Spain, 
"  Come,  Scfior,"  cried  he,  "  you  are  more  grave 
and  considerate  than  your  brother  ;  come  and 
see  your  ancestor  in  all  his  glory  !" 

Within  two  or  three  years  after  the  above  letter 
was  written,  the  Marquis  de  Salar  was  married 
to  the  beautiful  daughter  of  the  Count ,  men- 
tioned by  the  author  in  his  anecdotes  of  the  Al- 
hambra.  The  match  was  very  agreable  to  all 
parties,  and  the  nuptials  were  celebrated  with 
great  festivity. 


ABDERAHMAN; 

FOUNDER    OF  THE    DYNASTY  OF    THE  OMMIADES 
IN   SPAIN. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Knickerbocker. 

SIR  :  In  the  following  memoir  I  have  conform- 
ed to  the  facts  furnished  by  the  Arabian  chroni- 
clers, as  cited  by  the  learned  Conde.  The  story 
of  Abderahman  has  almost  the  charrn  of  romance  ; 
but  it  derives  a  higher  interest  from  the  heroic 
yet  gentle  virtues  which  it  illustrates,  and  from 
recording  the  fortunes  of  the  founder  of  that 
splendid  dynasty,  which  shed  such  a  lustre  upon 
Spain  during  the  domination  of  the  Arabs.  Ab- 
derahman may,  in  some  respects,  be  compared  to 
our  own  Washington.  He  achieved  the  inde- 
pendence ot  Moslem  Spain,  freeing  it  from  sub- 
]ection  to  the  caliphs  ;  he  united  its  jarring  parts 
under  one  government  ;  he  ruled  over  it  with  jus- 
tice, clemency,  and  moderation  ;  his  whole  course 
of  conduct  was  distinguished  by  wonderful  for- 
bearance and  magnanimity  ;  and  when  he  died 
he  left  a  legacy  of  good  example  and  good  coun- 
sel to  his  successors.  G.  C. 


"  BLESSED  be  God  !"  exclaims  an  Arabian  his- 
torian ;    "  in   His  hands  alone  is  the   destiny  of 
Erinces.     He  overthrows  the  mighty,  and  hum- 
les  the  haughty  to  the  dust  ;    and  he  raises  up 
the  persecuted  and  afflicted  from  the  very  depths 
of  despair  !" 

The  illustrious  house  of  Omeya  had  swayed  the 
sceptre  at  Damascus  for  nearly  a  century,  when  a 
rebellion  broke  out,  headed  by  Aboul  Abbas 
Safah,  who  aspired  to  the  throne  of  the  caliphs,  as 
being  descended  from  Abbas,  the  uncle  of  the 
prophet.  The  rebellion  was  successful.  Marvau, 
the  last  caliph  of  the  house  of  Omeya,  was  defeat- 
ed and  slain.  A  general  proscription  of  the  Om- 
miades  took  place.  Many  of  them  fell  in  battle  ; 
many  were  treacherously  slain,  in  places  where 
they  had  taken  refuge  ;  above  seventy  most  noble 
and  distinguished  were  murdered  at  a  banquet  to 
which  they  had  been  invited,  and  their  dead  bod- 
ies covered  with  cloths,  and  made  to  serve  as  ta- 
bles tor  the  horrible  festivity.  Others  were  driven 
forth,  forlorn  and  desolate  wanderers  in  various 
parts  of  the  earth,  and  pursued  with  relentless 
hatred  ;  for  it  was  the  determination  ot  the  usurp- 
er that  not  one  of  the  persecuted  family  should 
escape.  Aboul  Abbas  took  possession  of  three 
stately  palaces,  and  delicious  gardens,  and  found- 
e  1  the  powerful  dynasty  of  the  Abbassides, 
which,  for  several  centuries,  maintained  dominion 
in  the  east. 


"  Blessed  be  God  !"  again  exclaims  the  Ara- 
bian historian  ;  "  it  was  written  in  His  eternal 
decrees  that,  notwithstanding  the  fury  of  the  Ab- 
bassides, the  noble  stock  ot  Omeya  should  not  be 
destroyed.  One  fruitful  branch  remained  to  flour- 
ish with  glory  and  greatness  in  another  land." 

When  the  sanguinary  proscription  of  the  Om- 
miades  took  place,  two  young  princes  of  that  line, 
brothers,  by  the  names  of  Solyman  and  Abderah- 
man were  spared  for  a  time.  Their  personal 
graces,  noble  demeanor,  and  winning  affability, 
had  made  them  many  friends,  while  their  extreme 
youth  rendered  them  objects  of  but  little  dread  to 
the  usurper.  Their  safety,  however,  was  but 
transient.  In  a  little  while  the  suspicions  of 
Aboul  Abbas  were  aroused.  The  unfortunate 
Solyman  fell  beneath  the  scimitar  of  the  execu- 
tioner. His  brother  Abderahman  was  warned  of 
his  danger  in  time.  Several  of  his  friends  hasten- 
ed to  him,  bringing  him  jewels,  a  disguise,  and  a 
fleet  horse.  "  The  emissaries  of  the  caliph,"  said 
they,  "  are  in  search  of  thee  ;  thy  brother  lies  wel- 
tering in  his  blood  ;  fly  to  the  desert  !  There  is 
no  safety  for  thee  in  the  habitations  of  man  !" 

Abderahman  took  the  jewels,  clad  himself  in 
the  disguise,  and  mounting  his  steed,  fled  for  his 
lite.  As  he  passed,  a  lonely  fugitive,  by  the  pal- 
aces of  his  ancestors,  in  which  his  family  had 
long  held  sway,  their  very  walls  seemed  disposed 
to  betray  him,  as  they  echoed  the  swift  clattering 
ot  his  steed. 

Abandoning  his  native  country,  Syria,  where  he 
was  liable  at  each  moment  to  be  recognized  and 
taken,  he  took  refuge  among  the  Bedouin  Arabs, 
a  halt-savage  race  of  shepherds.  His  youth,  his 
inborn  majesty  and  grace,  and  the  sweetness  and 
affability  that  shone  forth  in  his  azure  eyes,  won 
the  hearts  of  these  wandering  men.  He  was  but 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  had  been  reared  in  the 
soft  luxury  of  a  palace  ;  but  he  was  tall  and  vig- 
orous, and  in  a  little  while  hardened  himself  so 
completely  to  the  rustic  life  ot  the  fields  that  it 
seemed  as  though  he  had  passed  all  his  days  in 
the  rude  simplicity  of  a  shepherd's  cabin. 

His  enemies,  however,  were  upon  his  traces, 
and  gave  him  but  little  rest.  By  day  he  scoured 
the  plain  with  the  Bedouins,  hearing  in  every  blast 
the  sound  of  pursuit,  and  fancying  in  every  dis- 
tant cloud  of  dust  a  troop  of  the  caliph's  horse- 
men. His  night  was  passed  in  broken  sleep  and 
frequent  watchings,  and  at  the  earliest  dawn  he 
was  the  first  to  put  the  bridle  to  his  steed. 

Wearied  by  these  perpetual  alarms,  he  bade 
farewell  to  his  friendly  Bedouins,  and  leaving 
Egypt  behind,  sought  a  safer  refuge  in  Western 
Africa.  The  province  of  Barea  was  at  that  time 
governed  by  Aben  Habib,  who  had  risen  to  rank 
and  fortune  under  the  fostering  favor  of  the  Om- 
miades.  "  Surely,"  thought  the  unhappy  prince, 
"  I  shall  receive  kindness  and  protection  from 
this  man  ;  he  will  rejoice  to  show  his  gratitude 
tor  the  benefits  showered  upon  by  my  kindred." 

Abderahman  was  young,  and  as  yet  knew  little 
ot  mankind.  None  are  so  hostile  to  the  victim  of 
power  as  those  whom  he  has  befriended.  They 
fear  being  suspected  of  gratitude  by  his  persecu- 
tors, and  involved  in  his  misfortunes. 

The  unfortunate  Abderahman  had  halted  for  a 
few  days  to  repose  himself  among  a  horde  of 
Bedouins,  who  had  received  him  with  their  char- 
acteristic hospitality.  They  would  gather  round 
him  in  the  evenings,  to  listen  to  his  conversation, 
regarding  with  wonder  this  gently-spoken  stranger 
from  the  more  refined  country  of  Egypt.  The  old 
men  marvelled  to  find  so  much  knowledge  and 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


wisdom  in  such  early  youth,  and  the  young  men, 
won  by  his  frank  and  manly  carriage,  entreated 
him  to  remain  among  them. 

One  night,  when  all  were  buried  in  sleep,  they 
were  roused  by  the  tramp  of  horsemen.  The 
Wali  Aben  Habib,  who,  like  all  the  governors  of 
distant  ports,  had  received  orders  from  the  caliph 
to  be  on  the  watch  for  the  fugitive  prince,  had 
heard  that  a  young  man,  answering  the  descrip- 
tion, had  entered  the  province  alone,  from  the 
frontiers  of  Egypt,  on  a  steed  worn  clown  by 
travel.  He  had  immediately  sent  forth  horsemen 
in  his  pursuit,  with  orders  to  bring  him  to  him 
dead  or  alive.  The  emissaries  of  the  Wali  had 
traced  him  to  his  resting-place,  and  demanded  of 
the  Arabs  whether  a  young  man,  a  stranger  from 
Syria,  did  not  sojourn  among  their  tribe.  The 
Bedouins  knew  by  the  description  that  the  stranger 
must  be  their  guest,  and  feared  some  evil  was  in- 
tended him.  "Such  a  youth,"  said  they,  "has 
indeed  sojourned  among  us  ;  but  he  has  gone, 
with  some  of  our  young  men,  to  a  distant  valley, 
to  hunt  the  lion."  The  emissaries  inquired  the 
way  to  the  place,  and  hastened  on  to  surprise 
their  expected  prey. 

The  Bedouins  repaired  to  Abderahman,  who 
was  still  sleeping.  "  If  thou  hast  aught  to  fear 
from  man  in  power,"  said  they,  "  arise  and  fly  ; 
for  the  horsemen  of  the  Wali  are  in  quest  of  thee  ! 
We  have  sent  them  off  for  a  time  on  a  wrong  er- 
rand, but  they  will  soon  return." 

"  Alas  !  whither  shall  I  fly  !"  cried  the  un- 
happy prince  ;  "  my  enemies  hunt  me  like  the 
ostrich  of  the  desert.  They  follow  me  like  the 
wind,  and  allow  me  neither  safety  nor  repose  !" 

Six  of  the  bravest  youths  of  the  tribe  stepped 
forward.  "  We  have  steeds,"  said  they,  "  that 
can  outstrip  the  wind,  and  hands  that  can  hurl 
the  javelin.  We  will  accompany  thee  in  thy 
flight,  and  will  fight  by  thy  side  while  life  lasts, 
and  we  have  weapons  to  wield." 

Abderahman  embraced  them  with  tears  of  grat- 
itude. They  mounted  their  steeds,  and  made  for 
the  most  lonely  parts  of  the  desert.  By  the  faint 
light  of  the  stars,  they  passed  through  dreary 
wastes,  and  over  hills  of  sand.  The  lion  roared, 
and  the  hyena  howled  unheeded,  for  they  fled 
from  man,  more  cruel  and  relentless,  when  in 
pursuit  of  blood,  than  the  savage  beasts  of  the 
desert. 

At  sunrise  they  paused  to  refresh  themselves 
beside  a  scanty  well,  surrounded  by  a  few  palm- 
trees.  One  of  the  young  Arabs  climbed  a  tree, 
and  looked  in  every  direction,  but  not  a  horseman 
was  to  be  seen. 

"  We  have  outstripped  pursuit,"  said  the  Bed- 
ouins ;  "  whither  shall  we  conduct  thee  ?  Where 
is  thy  home  and  the  land  of  thy  people  ?" 

"  Home  have  I  none  !"  replied  Abderahman, 
mournfully,  nor  family,  nor  kindred  !  My  native 
land  is  to  me  a  land  of  destruction,  and  my  people 
seek  my  life  !  " 

The  hearts  of  the  youthful  Bedouins  were 
touched  with  compassion  at  these  words,  and 
they  marvelled  that  one  so  young  and  gentle 
should  have  suffered  such  great  sorrow  and  per- 
secution. 

Abderahman  sat  by  the  well,  and  mused  for  a 
time.  At  length,  breaking  silence,  "  In  the  midst 
of  Mauritania,"  said  he,  "  dwells  the  tribe  of  Ze- 
neta.  My  mother  was  of  that  tribe  ;  and  perhaps 
when  her  son  presents  himself,  a  persecuted 
wanderer,  at  their  door,  they  will  not  turn  him 
from  the  threshold." 

"The  Zenetes,"   replied  the   Bedouins,   "are 


among  the  bravest  and  most  hospitable  of  the 
people  of  Africa.  Never  did  the  unfortunate  seek 
refuge  among  them  in  vain,  nor  was  the  stranger 
repulsed  from  their  door."  So  they  mounted 
their  steeds  with  renewed  spirits,  and  journeyed 
with  all  speed  to  Tahart,  the  capital  of  the  Zenetes. 

When  Abderahman  entered  the  place,  followed 
by  his  six  rustic  Arabs,  all  wayworn  and  travel- 
stained,  his  noble  and  majestic  demeanor  shone 
through  the  simple  garb  of  a  Bedouin.  A  crowd 
gathered  around  him,  as  he  alighted  from  his 
weary  steed.  Confiding  in  the  well  known  char- 
acter of  the  tribe,  he  no  longer  attempted  con- 
cealment. 

"You  behold  before  you,"  said  he,  "  one  of 
the  proscribed  house  of  Omeya.  I  am  that  Ab- 
derahman upon  whose  head  a  price  has  been  set, 
and  who  has  been  driven  from  land  to  land.  I 
come  to  you  as  my  kindred.  My  mother  was  of 
your  tribe,  and  she  told  me  with  her  dying  breath 
that  in  all  time  of  need  I  would  find  a  home  and 
friends  among  the  Zenetes." 

The  words  of  Abderahman  went  straight  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers.  They  pitied  his  youth  and 
his  great  misfortunes,  while  they  were  charmed 
by  his  frankness,  and  by  the  manly  graces  of  his 
person.  The  tribe  was  of  a  bold  and  generous 
spirit,  and  not  to  be  awed  by  the  frown  ot  power. 
"Evil  be  upon  us  and  upon  our  children,"  said 
they,  "  if  we  deceive  the  trust  thou  hast  placed  in 
us  !" 

Then  one  ol  the  noblest  Xeques  took  Abderah- 
man to  his  house,  and  treated  him  as  his  own 
child  ;  and  the  principal  people  of  the  tribe  strove 
who  most  should  cherish  him,  and  do  him  honor; 
endeavoring  to  obliterate  by  their  kindness  the 
recollection  of  his  past  misfortunes. 

Abderahman  had  resided  some  time  among 
the  hospitable  Zenetes,  when  one  day  two  stran- 
gers, ot  venerable  appearance,  attended  by  a 
small  retinue,  arrived  at  Tahart.  they  gave 
themselves  out  as  merchants,  and  from  the  sim- 
ple style  in  which  they  travelled,  excited  no  at- 
tention. In  a  little  while  they  sought  out  Abder- 
ahman, and,  taking  him  apart  :  "  Hearken," 
said  they,  "  Abderahman,  ot  the  royal  line  of 
Omeya  ;  we  are  ambassadors  sent  on  the  part  of 
the  principal  Moslems  of  Spain,  to  offer  thee,  not 
merely  an  asylum,  for  that  thou  hast  already 
among  these  brave  Zenetes,  but  an  empire  ! 
Spain  is  a  prey  to  distracting  factions,  and  can 
no  longer  exist  as  a  dependance  upon  a  throne  too 
remote  to  watch  over  its  welfare.  It  needs  to  be 
independent  of  Asia  and  Africa,  and  to  be  under 
the  government  of  a  good  prince,  who  shall  re- 
side within  it,  and  devote  himself  entirely  to  its 
prosperity  ;  a  prince  with  sufficient  title  to  silence 
all  rival  claims,  and  bring  the  warring  parties  into 
unity  and  peace  ;  and  at  the  same  time  with 
sufficient  ability  and  virtue  to  insure  the  welfare 
of  his  dominions.  For  this  purpose  the  eyes  of 
all  the  honorable  leaders  in  Spain  have  been 
turned  to  thee,  as  a  descendant  of  the  royal  line 
of  Omeya,  and  an  offset  from  the  same  stock  as 
our  holy  prophet.  They  have  heard  ot  thy  vir- 
tues, and  of  thy  admirable  constancy  under  mis- 
fortunes ;  and  invite  thee  to  accept  the  sovereign- 
ty of  one  of  the  noblest  countries  in  the  world. 
Thou  wilt  have  some  difficulties  xo  encounter  from 
hostile  men  ;  but  thou  wilt  have  on  thy  side  the 
bravest  captains  that  have  signalized  themselves 
in  the  conquest  of  the  unbelievers." 

The  ambassadors  ceased,  and  Abderahman  re- 
mained for  a  time  lost  in  wonder  and  admiration. 
"God  is  great!"  exclaimed  he,  at  length; 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


431 


"  there  is  but  one  God,  who  is  God,  and  Mahom- 
et is  his  prophet  !  Illustrious  ambassadors,  you 
have  put  new  life  into  my  soul,  for  you  have 
shown  me  something  to  live  for.  In  the  few  years 
that  I  have  lived,  troubles  and  sorrows  have  been 
heaped  upon  my  head,  and  I  have  become  inured 
to  hardships  and  alarms.  Since  it  is  the  wish  of 
the  valiant  Moslems  of  Spain,  I  am  willing-  to  be- 
come their  leader  and  defender,  and  devote  my- 
self to  their  cause,  be  it  happy  or  disastrous." 

The  ambassadors  now  cautioned  him  to  be  si- 
lent as  to  their  errand,  and  to  depart  secretly  for 
Spain.  "The  sea-board  of  Africa,"  said  they, 
"  swarms  with  your  enemies,  and  a  powerful  fac- 
tion in  Spain  would  intercept  you  on  landing,  did 
they  know  your  name  and  rank,  and  the  object 
of  your  coming." 

But  Abderahman  replied  :  "  I  have  been  cher- 
ished in  adversary  by  these  brave  Zenetes  ;  I  have 
been  protected  and  honored  by  them,  when  a  price 
was  set  upon  my  head,  and  to  harbor  me  was 
great  peril.  How  can  I  keep  my  good  fortune 
trom  my  benefactors,  and  desert  their  hospitable 
roofs  in  silence  ?  He  is  unworthy  of  friendship, 
who  withholds  confidence  from  his  friend." 

Charmed  with  the  generosity  of  his  feelings,  the 
ambassadors  made  no  opposition  to  his  wishes. 
The  Zenetes  proved  themselves  worthy  of  his  con- 
fidence. They  hailed  with  joy  the  great  change 
in  his  fortunes.  The  warriors  and  the  young  men 
pressed  forward  to  follow,  and  aid  them  with 
horse  and  weapon  ;  "  for  the  honor  of  a  noble 
house  and  family,"  said  they,  "  can  be  maintain- 
ed only  by  lances  and  horsemen."  In  a  few  days 
he  set  forth,  with  the  ambassadors,  at  the  head  of 
nearly  a  thousand  horsemen,  skilled  in  war,  and 
exercised  in  the  desert,  and  a  large  body  of  infan- 
try, armed  with  lances.  The  venerable  Xeque, 
with  whom  he  had  resided,  blessed  him,  and  shed 
tears  over  him  at  parting,  as  though  he  had  been 
his  own  child  ;  and  when  the  youth  passed  over 
the  threshold,  the  house  was  filled  with  lamenta- 
tions. 

Abderahman  reached  Spain  in  safety,  and  land- 
ed at  Almanecar,  with  his  little  band  of  warlike 
Zenetes.  Spain  was  at  that  time  in  a  state  of 
great  confusion.  Upward  ol  forty  years  had  elapsed 
since  the  conquest.  The  civil  wars  in  Syria  and 
Egypt  had  prevented  the  main  government  at 
Damascus  from  exercising  control  over  this  dis- 
tant and  recently  acquired  territory.  Every  Mos- 
lem commander  considered  the  town  or  province 
committed  to  his  charge,  an  absolute  property  ; 
and  accordingly  exercised  the  most  arbitrary  ex- 
tortions. These  excesses  at  length  became  insup- 
portable, and,  at  a  convocation  of  many  of  the 
principal  leaders,  it  was  determined,  as  a  means 
to  end  these  dissensions,  to  unite  all  the  Moslem 
provinces  of  Spain  under  one  Emir,  or  General 
Governor.  Yusuf  el  Fehri,  an  ancient  man,  of 
honorable  lineage,  was  chosen  for  this  station. 
He  began  his  reign  with  policy,  and  endeavored 
to  conciliate  all  parties  ;  but  the  distribution  of 
offices  soon  created  powerful  enemies  among  the 
disappointed  leaders.  A  civil  war  was  the  conse- 
quence, and  Spain  was  deluged  with  blood.  The 
troops  of  both  parties  burned  and  ravaged  and  laid 
everything  waste,  to  distress  their  antagonists  ; 
the  villages  were  abandoned  by  their  inhabitants, 
who  fled  to  the  cities  for  refuge  ;  and  flourishing 
towns  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  or 
remained  mere  heaps  of  rubbish  and  ashes.  At 
the  time  of  the  landing  of  Abderahman  in  Spain, 
the  old  Emir  Yusuf  had  obtained  a  signal  vic- 
tory. He  had  captured  Saragossa,  in  which  was 


Ameer  ben  Amru,  his  principal  enemy,  together 
with  his  son  and  secretary.  Loading  his  prison- 
ers with  chains,  and  putting  them  on  camels,  he 
set  out  in  triumph  for  Cordova,  considering  him- 
self secure  in  the  absolute  domination  of  Spain. 

He  had  halted  one  day  in  a  valley  called  Wad- 
arambla,  and  was  reposing  with  his  family  in  his 
pavilion,  while  his  people  and  the  prisoners  made 
a  repast  in  the  open  air.  In  the  midst  of  his  re- 
pose, his  confidential  adherent  and  general,  the 
Wall  Samael,  galloped  into  the  camp  covered 
with  dust,  and  exhausted  with  fatigue.  He 
brought  tidings  of  the  arrival  of  Abderahman  and 
that  the  whole  sea-board  was  flocking  to  his  stand- 
ard. Messenger  after  messenger  came  hurrying 
into  the  camp,  confirming  the  tearful  tidings,  and 
adding  that  this  descendant  of  the  Omeyas  had 
secretly  been  invited  to  Spain  by  Amru  and  his 
followers.  Yusuf  waited  not  to  ascertain  the 
truth  of  this  accusation.  Giving  way  to  a  trans- 
port of  fury,  he  ordered  that  Amru,  his  son  and 
secretary,  should  be  cut  to  pieces.  His  com- 
mands were  instantly  executed.  "  And  this  cru- 
elty," says  the  Arabian  chronicler,  "  lost  him 
the  favor  of  Allah  ;  for  from  that  time,  success 
deserted  his  standard." 

Abderahman  had  indeed  been  hailed  with  joy  on 
his  landing  in  Spain.  The  old  people  hoped  to  find 
tranquillity  under  the  sway  of  one  supreme  chief- 
tain, descended  from  their  ancient  caliphs  ;  the 
young  men  were  rejoiced  to  have  a  youthful  war* 
rior  to  lead  them  on  to  victories  ;  and  the  popu- 
lace, charmed  with  his  freshness  and  manly 
beauty,  his  majestic  yet  gracious  and  affable  de- 
meanor, shouted  :  "  Long  live  Abderahman  ben 
Moavia  Meramamolin  of  Spain  !" 

In  a  few  days  the  youthful  sovereign  saw  him- 
self at  the  head  of  more  than  twenty  thousand 
men,  from  the  neighborhood  of  Elvira,  Almeria, 
Malaga,  Xeres,  and  Sidonia.  Fair  Seville  threw 
open  its  gates  at  his  approach,  and  celebrated  his 
arrival  with  public  rejoicings.  He  continued  his 
march  into  the  country,  vanquished  one  of  the 
sons  of  Yusut  before  the  gates  of  Cordova,  and 
obliged  him  to  take  refuge  within  its  walls,  where 
he  held  him  in  close  siege.  Hearing,  however  of 
the  approach  of  Yusuf,  the  father,  with  a  powerful 
army,  he  divided  his  forces,  and  leaving  ten  thou- 
sand men  to  press  the  siege,  he  hastened  with  the 
other  ten  to  meet  the  coming  foe. 

Yusuf  had  indeed  mustered  a  formidable  force, 
from  the  east  and  south  of  Spain,  and  accom- 
panied by  his  veteran  general,  Samael,  came 
with  confident  boasting  to  drive  this  intruder  from 
the  land.  His  confidence  increased  on  beholding 
the  small  army  of  Abderahman.  Turning  to 
Samael,  he  repeated,  with  a  scornful  sneer,  a 
verse  from  an  Arabian  poetess,  which  says  : 

"  How  hard  is  our  lot  !  We  come,  a  thirsty 
multitude,  and  lo  !  but  this  cup  ot  water  to  share 
among  us  !" 

There  was  indeed  a  fearful  odds.  On  the  one 
side  were  two  veteran  generals,  grown  gray  in 
victory,  with  a  mighty  host  of  warriors,  seasoned 
in  the  wars  ot  Spain.  On  the  other  side  was  a 
mere  youth,  scarce  attained  to  manhood,  with  a 
hasty  levy  of  half-disciplined  troops  ;  but  the 
youth  was  a  prince,  flushed  with  hope,  and  aspir- 
ing after  tame  and  empire  ;  and  surrounded  by  a 
devoted  band  of  warriors  from  Africa,  whose  ex- 
ample infused  desperate  zeal  into  the  little  army. 

The  encounter  took  place  at  daybreak.  The 
impetuous  valor  of  the  Zenetes  carried  everything 
before  it.  The  cavalry  ot  Yusuf  was  broken,  and 
driven  back  upon  the  infantry,  and  before  noon 


433 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


the  whole  host  was  put  to  headlong  flight.  Yusuf 
and  Samael  were  borne  along  in  the  torrent  of  the 
fugitives,  raging  and  storming,  and  making  in- 
effectual efforts  to  rally  them.  They  were  separ- 
ated widely  in  the  confusion  of  the  flight,  one 
taking  refuge  in  the  Algarves,  the  other  in  the 
kingdom  of  Murcia.  They  afterward  rallied,  re- 
united their  forces,  and  made  another  desperate 
stand  near  Almunecar.  The  battle  was  obstinate 
and  bloody,  but  they  were  again  defeated,  and 
driven,  with  a  handful  of  followers,  to  take  refuge 
in  the  rugged  mountains  adjacent  to  Elvira. 

The  spirit  of  the  veteran  Samael  gave  way  be- 
fore these  fearful  reverses.  "  In  vain,  O  Yusuf  !" 
said  he,  "  do  we  contend  with  the  prosperous  star 
of  this  youthful  conqueror  :  the  will  of  Allah  be 
done  !  Let  us  submit  to  our  fate,  and  sue  for 
favorable  terms,  while  we  have  yet  the  means  of 
capitulation." 

It  was  a  hard  trial  for  the  proud  spirit  of  Yusuf, 
that  had  once  aspired  to  uncontrolled  sway  ;  but 
he  was  compelled  to  capitulate.  Abclerahman 
was  as  generous  as  brave.  He  granted  the  two 
gray-headed  generals  the  most  honorable  condi- 
tions, and  even  took  the  veteran  Samael  into 
favor,  employing  him,  as  a  mark  of  confidence,  to 
visit  the  eastern  provinces  of  Spain,  and  restore 
them  to  tranquillity.  Yusuf,  having  delivered  up 
Elvira  and  Granada,  and  complied  with  other 
articles  of  his  capitulation,  was  permitted  to  re- 
tire to  Murcia,  and  rejoin  his  sun  Muhamad.  A 
general  amnesty  to  all  chiefs  and  soldiers  who 
should  yield  up  their  strong  holds,  and  lay  down 
their  arms,  completed  the  triumph  of  Abderah- 
man,  and  brought  all  hearts  into  obedience. 

Thus  terminated  this  severe  struggle  for  the 
domination  of  Spain  ;  and  thus  the  illustrious 
family  of  Omeya,  after  having  been  cast  down 
and  almost  exterminated  in  the  East,  took  new 
root,  and  sprang  forth  prosperously  in  the  West. 

Wherever  Abderahman  appeared,  he  was  re- 
ceived with  rapturous  acclamations.  As  he  rode 
through  the  cities,  the  populace  rent  the  air  with 
shouts  of  joy  ;  the  stately  palaces  were  crowded 
with  spectators,  eager  to  gain  a  sight  of  his  grace- 
ful form  and  beaming  countenance  ;  and  when 
they  beheld  the  mingled  majesty  and  benignity  of 
their  new  monarch,  and  the  sweetness  and  gen- 
tleness of  his  whole  conduct,  they  extolled  him  as 
something  more  than  mortal  ;  as  a  beneficent 
genius,  sent  for  the  happiness  of  Spain. 

In  the  interval  of  peace  which  now  succeeded, 
Abclerahman  occupied  himself  in  promoting  the 
useful  and  elegant  arts,  and  in  introducing  into 
Spain  the  refinements  of  the  East.  Considering 
the  building  and  ornamenting  of  cities  as  among 
the  noblest  employments  of  the  tranquil  hours  of 
princes,  he  bestowed  great  pains  upon  beautifying 
the  city  of  Cordova  and  its  environs.  He  recon- 
structed banks  and  dykes,  to  keep  the  Guadal- 
quiver  from  overflowing  its  borders,  and  on  the 
vast  terraces  thus  formed,  he  planted  delightful 
gardens.  In  the  midst  of  these,  he  erected  a  lofty 
tower,  commanding  a  view  of  the  vast  and  fruit- 
ful valley,  enlivened  by  the  windings  of  the  river. 
In  this  tower  he  would  pass  hours  of  meditation, 
gazing  on  the  soft  and  varied  landscape,  and  in- 
haling the  bland  and  balmy  airs  of  that  delightful 
region.  At  such  times,  his  thoughts  would  recur 
to  the  past,  and  the  misfortunes  of  his  youlh  ;  the 
massacre  of  his  family  would  rise  to  view, 
mingled  with  tender  recollections  of  his  native 
country,  from  which  he  was  exiled.  In  these 
melancholy  musings  he  would  sit  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  a  palm-tree  which  he  had  planted  in 


the  midst  of  his  garden.  It  is  said  to  have  been 
the  first  ever  planted  in  Spain,  and  to  have  been 
the  parent  stock  of  all  the  palm-trees  which  grace 
the  southern  provinces  of  the  peninsula.  The 
heart  of  Abclerahman  yearned  toward  this  Iree  ; 
it  was  the  offspring  of  his  native  country,  ana 
like  him,  an  exile.  In  one  of  his  moods  ot  tender- 
ness, he  composed  verses  upon  it,  which  have J 
since  become  famous  throughout  the  world.  The 
following  is  a  rude  but  literal  translation  : 

"  Beauteous  Palm  !  thou  also  wert  hither 
brought  a  stranger  ;  but  thy  roots  have  found  a 
kindly  soil,  thy  head  is  lifted  to  the  skies,  and  the 
sweet  airs  of  Algarve  fondle  and  kiss  thy  branches. 

"  Thou  hast  known,  like  me,  the  storms  of  ad- 
verse fortune.  Bitter  tears  wouldst  thou  shed, 
couldst  thou  feel  my  woes.  Repealed  griefs  have 
overwhelmed  me.  With  early  tears  1  bedewed 
the  palms  on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates  ;  but 
neither  tree  nor  river  heeded  my  sorrows,  when 
driven  by  cruel  fate,  and  the  ferocious  Aboul 
Abbas,  from  the  scenes  of  my  childhood  and  the 
sweet  objects  of  my  affection. 

'  To  thee  no  remembrance  remains  of  my  be- 
loved country  ;  I,  unhappy  !  can  never  recall  it 
without  tears." 

The  generosity  of  Abclerahman  to  his  van- 
quished foes  was  destined  to  be  abused.  The 
veteran  Yusuf,  in  visiting  certain  ot  the  cities 
which  he  had  surrendered,  found  himself  sur- 
rounded by  zealous  partisans,  ready  to  peril  lite  in 
his  service.  The  love  ot  command  revived  in  his 
bosom,  and  he  repented  the  facility  with  which  he 
had  suffered  himself  to  be  persuaded  to  submis- 
sion. Flushed  with  new  hopes  of  success,  he 
caused  arms  to  be  secretly  collected,  and  deposit- 
ed in  various  villages,  most  zealous  in  their  pro- 
fessions of  devotion,  and  raising  a  considerable 
body  ot  troops,  seized  upon  the  castle  of  Almo- 
dovar.  The  rash  rebellion  was  short-lived.  At 
the  first  appearance  ot  an  army  sent  by  Abderah- 
man, and  commanded  by  Abdelmelee,  governor 
of  Seville,  the  villages  which  had  so  recently  pro- 
fessed loyalty  to  Yusuf,  hastened  to  declare  their 
attachment  to  the  monarch,  and  to  give  up  the 
concealed  arms.  Almodovar  was  soon  retaken, 
and  Yusuf,  driven  to  the  environs  ot  Lorea,  was 
surrounded  by  the  cavalry  of  Abdelmelee.  The 
veteran  endeavored  to  cut  a  passage  through  the 
enemy,  but  alter  fighting  with  desperate  fury, 
and  with  a  force  of  arm  incredible  in  one  of  his 
age,  he  fell  beneath  blows  from  weapons  ot  all 
kinds,  so  that  alter  the  battle  his  body  could 
scarcely  be  recognized,  so  numerous  were  the 
wounds.  His  head  was  cut  off  and  sent  to  Cor- 
dova, where  it  was  placed  in  an  iron  cage,  over 
the  gate  of  the  city. 

The  old  lion  was  dead,  but  his  whelps  survived. 
Yusuf  had  left  three  sons,  who  inherited  his  war- 
like spirit,  and  were  eager  to  revenge  his  death. 
Collecting  a  number  of  the  scattered  adherents  of 
their  house,  they  surprised  and  beized  upon  Tole- 
do, during  the  absence  of  Temam,  its  Wali  or 
commander.  In  this  old  warrior  city,  built  upon 
a  rock,  and  almost  surrounded  by  the  Tagus, 
they  set  up  a  kind  ot  robber  hold,  scouring  the 
surrounding  country  levying  tribute,  seizing 
upon  horses,  and  compelling  the  peasantry  to  join 
their  standard.  Every  day  cavalcades  of  horses 
and  mules,  laden  with  spoil,  with  flocks  of  sheep 
and  droves  of  cattle,  came  pouring  over  the 
bridges  on  either  side  of  the  city,  and  thronging 
in  at  the  gates,  the  plunder  of  the  surrounding 
country.  Those  ot  the  inhabitants  who  were  still 
loyal  to  Abderahman  dared  not  lift  up  their 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


433 


voices,  for  men  of  the  sword  bore  sway.  At 
length  one  day,  when  the  sons  of  Yusuf,  with 
their  choicest  troops,  were  out  on  a  maraud,  the 
watchmen  on  the  towers  gave  the  alarm.  A 
troop  of  scattered  horsemen  were  spurring  wildly 
toward  the  gates.  The  banners  of  the  sons  of 
Yusuf  were  descried.  Two  of  them  spurred  into 
the  city,  followed  by  a  handful  of  warriors,  cov- 
ered with  confusion  and  dismay.  They  had  been 
encountered  and  defeated  by  the  Wall  Temam, 
and  one  of  the  brothers  had  been  slain. 

The  gates  were  secured  in  all  haste,  and  the 
walls  were  scarcely  manned,  when  Temam  ap- 
peared beiore  them  with  his  troops,  and  sum- 
moned the  city  to  surrender.  A  great  internal 
commotion  ensued  between  the  loyalists  and  the 
insurgents  ;  the  latter,  however,  had  weapons  in 
their  hands,  and  prevailed  ;  and  for  several  days, 
trusting  to  the  strength  of  their  rock-built  fortress, 
they  set  the  Wall  at  defiance.  At  length  some  of 
the  loyal  inhabitants  of  Toledo,  who  knew  all  its 
secret  and  subterraneous  passages,  some  of  which, 
if  chroniclers  may  be  believed,  have  existed  since 
the  days  of  Hercules,  if  not  of  Tubal  Cain,  intro- 
duced Temam  and  a  chosen  band  of  his  warriors 
into  the  very  centre  of  the  city,  where  they  sud- 
denly appeared  as  if  by  magic.  A  panic  seized 
upon  the  insurgents.  Some  sought  safety  in  sub- 
mission, some  in  concealment,  some  in  flight. 
Casim,  one  of  the  sons  of  Yusuf,  escaped  in  dis- 
guise ;  the  youngest,  unarmed,  was  taken,  and 
was  sent  captive  to  the  king,  accompanied  by  the 
head  of  his  brother,  who  had  been  slain  in  battle. 

When  Abderahman  beheld  the  youth  laden  with 
chains,  he  remembered  his  own  sufferings  in  his 
early  days,  and  had  compassion  on  him  ;  but,  to 
prevent  him  from  doing  further  mischief,  he  im- 
prisoned him  in  a  tower  of  the  wall  of  Cordova. 

In  the  meantime  Casim,  who  had  escaped, 
managed  to  raise  another  band  of  warriors. 
Spain,  in  all  ages  a  guerilla  country,  prone  to 
partisan  warfare  and  petty  maraud,  was  at  that 
time  infested  by  bands  of  licentious  troops,  who 
had  sprung  up  in  the  civil  contests  ;  their  only 
object  pillage,  their  only  dependence  the  sword, 
and  ready  to  flock  to  any  new  and  desperate 
standard,  that  promised  the  greatest  license. 
With  a  ruffian  force  thus  levied,  Casim  scoured 
the  country,  took  Sidonia  by  storm,  and  surprised 
Seville  while  in  a  state  of  unsuspecting  security. 

Abderahman  put  himself  at  the  head  of  his  faith- 
ful Zenetes,  and  took  the  field  in  person.  By  the 
rapidity  of  his  movements,  the  rebels  were  defeat- 
ed, Sidonia  and  Seville  speedily  retaken,  and 
Casim  was  made  prisoner.  The  generosity  of 
Abderahman  was  again  exhibited  toward  this  un- 
fortunate son  of  Yusuf.  He  spared  his  life,  and 
sent  him  to  be  confined  in  a  tower  at  Toledo. 

The  veteran  Samael  had  taken  no  part  in  these 
insurrections,  but  had  attended  faithfully  to  the 
affairs  intrusted  to  him  by  Abderahman.  The 
death  of  his  old  friend  and  colleague,  Yusuf,  how- 
ever, and  the  subsequent  disasters  of  his  family, 
filled  him  with  despondency.  Fearing  the  incon- 
stancy of  fortune,  and  the  dangers  incident  to 
public  employ,  he  entreated  the  king  to  be  per- 
mitted to  retire  to  his  house  in  Seguenza,  and  in- 
dulge a  privacy  and  repose  suited  to  his  ad- 
vanced age.  His  prayer  was  granted.  The 
veteran  laid  by  his  arms,  battered  in  a  thousand 
conflicts  ;  hung  his  sword  and  lance  against  the 
wall,  and  surrounded  by  a  few  friends,  gave  him- 
self up  apparently  to  the  sweets  of  quiet  and  un 
ambitious  leisure. 

Who  can   count,  however,  upon  the  tranquil 


content  of  a  heart  nurtured  amid  the  storms  of 
war  and  ambition  !  Under  the  ashes  of  this  out- 
ward humility  were  glowing  the  coals  of  faction. 
In  his  seemingly  philosophical  retirement,  Samael 
was  concerting  with  his  friends  new  treason 
against  Abderahman.  His  plot  was  discovered  ; 
his  house  was  suddenly  surrounded  by  troops  ; 
and  he  was  conveyed  to  a  tower  at  Toledo, 
where,  in  the  course  of  a  few  months  he  died  in 
captivity. 

The  magnanimity  of  Abderahman  was  again 
put  to  the  proof,  by  a  new  insurrection  at  Toledo. 
Hixem  ben  Adra,  a  relation  of  Yusuf,  seized  upon 
the  Alcazar,  or  citadel,  slew  several  of  the  royal 
adherents  ot  the  king,  liberated  Casim  from  his 
tower,  and,  summoning  all  the  banditti  of  the 
country,  soon  mustered  a  force  of  ten  thousand 
men.  Abderahman  was  quickly  before  the  walls 
of  Toledo,  with  the  troops  of  Cordova  and  his 
devoted  Zenetes.  The  rebels  were  brought  to 
terms,  and  surrendered  the  city  on  promise  of 
general  pardon,  which  was  extended  even  to 
Hixem  and  Casim.  When  the  chieftain  saw 
Hixem  and  his  principal  confederates  in  the 
power  of  Alxlerahman,  they  advised  him  to  put 
them  all  to  death.  "  A  promise  given  to  traitor 
and  rebels,"  said  they,  "  is  not  binding,  when  it 
is  to  the  interest  of  the  state  that  it  should  be 
broken." 

"  No  !"  replied  Abderahman,  "  if  the  safety  of 
my  throne  were  at  stake,  I  would  not  break  my 
word."  So  saying,  he  confirmed  the  amnesty,  and 
granted  Hixem  ben  Adra  a  worthless  life,  to  be 
employed  in  farther  treason. 

Scarcely  had  Abderahman  returned  Irom  this 
expedition,  when  a  powerful  army,  sent  by  the 
caliph,  landed  from  Africa  on  the  coast  of  the 
Algarves.  The  commander,  Aly  ben  Mogueth, 
Emir  of  Cairvan,  elevated  a  rich  banner  which  he 
had  received  from  the  hands  of  the  caliph. 
Wherever  he  went,  he  ordered  the  caliph  oi  the 
East  to  be  proclaimed  by  sound  of  trumpet,  de- 
nouncing Abderahman  as  a  usurper,  the  vagrant 
member  of  a  family  proscribed  and  execrated  in 
all  the  mosques  of  the  East. 

One  of  the  first  to  join  his  standard  was  Hixem 
ben  Adra,  so  recently  pardoned  by  Abderahman. 
He  seized  upon  the  citadel  of  Toledo,  and  repair- 
ing to  the  camp  of  Aly,  offered  to  deliver  the  city 
into  his  hands. 

Abderahman,  as  bold  in  war  as  he  was  gentle 
in  peace,  took  the  field  with  his  wonted  prompt- 
ness ;  overthrew  his  enemies,  with  great  slaugh- 
ter, drove  some  to  the  sea-coast  to  regain  their 
ships,  and  others  to  the  mountains.  The  body  of 
Aly  was  found  on  the  field  of  battle.  Abderah- 
man caused  the  head  to  be  struck  off,  and  con- 
veyed to  Cairvan,  where  it  was  affixed  at  night  to 
a  column  in  the  public  square,  with  this  inscrip- 
tion :  "  Thus  Abderahman,  the  descendant  of  the 
Omeyas,  punishes  the  rash  and  arrogant." 

Hixem  ben  Adra  escaped  from  the  field  of  bat-, 
tie,  and  excited  farther  troubles,  but  was  eventu- 
ally captured  by  Abdelmelee,  who  ordered  his 
head  to  be  struck  off  on  the  spot,  lest  he  should 
again  be  spared,  through  the  wonted  clemency  of 
Abderahman. 

Notwithstanding  these  signal  triumphs,  the 
reign  of  Abderahman  was  disturbed  by  farther 
insurrections,  and  by  another  descent  from 
Africa,  but  he  was  victorious  over  them  all  ; 
striking  the  roots  of  his  power  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  land.  Under  his  sway,  the  government 
of  Spain  became  more  regular  and  consolidated, 
and  acquired  an  independence  of  the  empire  of 


434 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


the  East.  The  caliph  continued  to  be  considered 
as  first  pontiff  and  chief  of  the  religion,  but  he 
ceased  to  have  any  temporal  power  over  Spain. 

Having  again  an  interval  of  peace,  Abderah- 
man  devoted  himself  to  the  education  of  his  chil- 
dren. Suleiman,  the  eldest,  he  appointed  Wali,  or 
governor,  ol  Toledo  ;  Abdallah,  the  second,  was 
intrusted  with  the  command  of  Merida  ;  but  the 
third  son,  Hixem,  was  the  delight  of  his  heart, 
the  son  of  Howara,  his  favorite  sultana,  whom  he 
loved  throughout  life  with  the  utmost  tenderness. 
With  this  youth,  who  was  full  of  promise,  he  re- 
laxed from  the  fatigues  of  government  ;  joining 
in  his  youthful  sports  amid  the  delightful  gardens 
of  Cordova,  and  teaching  him  the  gentle  art  of 
falconry,  of  which  the  king  was  so  fond  that  he 
received  the  name  of  the  Falcon  of  Coraixi. 

While  Abderahman  was  thus  indulging  in  the 
gentle  propensities  of  his  nature,  mischief  was  se- 
cretly at  work.  Muhamad,  the  youngest  son  of 
Yusuf,  had  been  for  many  years  a  prisoner  in  the 
tower  of  Cordova.  Being  passive  and  resigned, 
his  keepers  relaxed  their  vigilance,  and  brought 
him  forth  from  his  dungeon.  He  went  groping 
about,  however,  in  broad  daylight,  as  if  still  in 
the  darkness  of  his  tower.  His  guards  watched 
him  narrowly,  lest  this  should  be  a  deception,  but 
were  at  length  convinced  that  the  long  absence  of 
light  had  rendered  him  blind.  They  now  per- 
mitted him  to  descend  frequently  to  the  lower 
chambers  of  the  tower,  and  to  sleep  there  occa- 
sionally, during  the  heats  of  summer.  They  even 
allowed  him  to  grope  his  way  to  the  cistern,  in 
quest  of  water  for  his  ablutions. 

A  year  passed  in  this  way  without  anything  to 
excite  suspicion.  During  all  this  time,  however, 
the  blindness  of  Muhamad  was  entirely  a  decep- 
tion ;  and  he  was  concerting  a  plan  of  escape, 
through  the  aid  of  some  friends  of  his  father,  who 
found  means  to  visit  him  occasionally.  One  sultry 
evening  in  midsummer,  the  guards  had  gone  to 
bathe  in  the  Guadalquiver,  leaving  Muhamad 
alone,  in  the  lower  chambers  of  the  tower.  No 
sooner  were  they  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  than 
he  hastened  to  a  window  of  the  stair-case,  leading 
down  to  the  cistern,  lowered  himself  as  lar  as  his 
arms  would  reach,  and  dropped  without  injury  to 
the  ground.  Plunging  into  the  Guadalquiver,  he 
swam  across  to  a  thick  grove  on  the  opposite 
side,  where  his  friends  were  waiting  to  receive 
him.  Here,  mounting  a  horse  which  they  had 
provided  for  an  event  of  the  kind,  he  fled  across 
the  country,  by  solitary  roads,  and  made  good  his 
escape  to  the  mountains  of  Jaen. 

The  guardians  of  the  tower  dreaded  for  some 
time  to  make  known  his  flight  to  Abderahman. 
When  at  length  it  was  told  to  him,  he  exclaimed  : 
"  All  is  the  work  of  eternal  wisdom  ;  it  is  intend- 
ed to  teach  us  that  we  cannot  benefit  the  wicked 
without  injuring  the  good.  The  flight  of  that 
blind  man  will  cause  much  trouble  and  blood- 
shed." 

His  predictions  were  verified.  Muhamad  reared 
the  standard  of  rebellion  on  the  mountains  ;  the 
seditious  and  discontented  of  all  kinds  hastened 
to  join  it,  together  with  soldiers  of  iortune,  or 
rather  wandering  banditti,  and  he  had  soon  six 
thousand  men,  well  armed,  hardy  in  habits,  and 
desperate  in  character.  His  brother  Casim  also 
reappeared  about  the  same  time  in  the  mountains 
of  Ronda,  at  the  head  ol  a  daring  band  that  laid 
all  the  neighboring  valleys  under  contribution. 

Abderahman  summoned  his  alcaydes  from  their 
various  military  posts,  to  assist  in  driving  the 
rebels  from  their  mountain  fastnesses  into  the 


plains.  It  was  a  dangerous  and  protracted  ti>". 
lor  the  mountains  were  frightfully  wild  and 
rugged.  He  entered  them  with  a  powerful  host, 
driving  the  rebels  from  height  to  height  and  val- 
ley to  valley,  and  harassing  them  by  a  galling  fire 
from  thousands  of  cross-bows.  At  length  a  de- 
cisive battle  took  place  near  the  river  Guadalemar. 
The  rebels  were  signally  defeated  ;  four  thousand 
fell  in  action,  many  were  drowned  in  the  river, 
and  Muhamad,  with  a  few  horsemen,  escaped  to 
the  mountains  of  the  Algarves.  Here  he  was 
hunted  by  the  alcaydes  from  one  desolate  retreat 
to  another  ;  his  lew  followers  grew  tired  of  shar- 
ing the  disastrous  fortunes  of  a  fated  man  ;  one 
by  one  deserted  him,  and  he  himself  deserted  the 
remainder,  fearing  they  might  give  him  up,  to 
purchase  their  own  pardon. 

Lonely  and  disguised,  he  plunged  into  the 
depths  of  the  forests,  or  lurked  in  dens  and  cav- 
erns, like  a  famished  wolf,  often  casting  back  his 
thoughts  with  regret  to  the  time  of  his  captivity  in 
the  gloomy  tower  of  Cordova.  Hunger  at  length 
drove  him  to  Alarcon,  at  the  risk  of  being  discov- 
ered. Famine  and  misery,  however,  had  so 
wasted  and  changed  him,  that  he  was  not  recog- 
nized. He  remained  nearly  a  year  in  Alarcon, 
unnoticed  and  unknown,  yet  constantly  torment- 
ing himself  with  the  dread  of  discovery,  and  with 
groundless  fears  of  the  vengeance  ot  Abderah- 
man. Death  at  length  put  an  end  to  his  wretched- 
ness. 

A  milder  fate  attended  his  brother  Casim. 
Being  defeated  in  the  mountains  of  Murcia,  he 
was  conducted  in  chains  to  Cordova.  On  coming 
into  the  presence  of  Abderahman,  his  once  fierce 
and  haughty  spirit,  broken  by  distress,  gave  way  ; 
he  threw  himself  on  the  earth,  kissed  the  dust  be- 
neath the  feet  of  the  king,  and  implored  his 
clemency.  The  benignant  heart  of  Abderahman 
was  filled  with  melancholy,  rather  than  exultation, 
at  beholding  this  wreck  of  the  once  haughty 
family  of  Yusuf  a  suppliant  at  his  feet,  and  suing 
for  mere  existence.  He  thought  upon  the  muta- 
bility of  fortune,  and  felt  how  insecure  are  all  her 
favors.  He  raised  the  unhappy  Casim  from  the 
earth,  ordered  his  irons  to  be  taken  off,  and,  not 
content  with  mere  forgiveness,  treated  him  with 
honor,  and  gave  him  possessions  in  Seville,  where 
he  might  live  in  state  conformable  to  the  ancient 
dignity  of  his  family.  Won  by  this  great  and  per- 
severing magnanimity,  Casim  ever  after  remained 
one  of  the  most  devoted  of  his  subjects. 

All  the  enemies  of  Abderahman  were  at  length 
subdued  ;  he  reigned  undisputed  sovereign  of  the 
Moslems  ot  Spain  ;  and  so  benign  was  his  govern- 
ment, that  every  one  blessed  the  revival  of  the 
illustrious  line  of  Omeya.  He  was  at  all  times 
accessible  to  the  humblest  ot  his  subjects  :  the 
poor  man  ever  found  in  him  a  friend,  and  the  op- 
pressed a  protector.  He  improved  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice  ;  established  schools  lor  public 
instruction  ;  encouraged  poets  and  men  ot  letters, 
and  cultivated  the  sciences.  He  built  mosques 
in  every  city  that  he  visited  ;  inculcated  religion 
by  example  as  well  as  by  precept  ;  and  celebrated 
all  the  festivals  prescribed  by  the  Koran,  with  the 
utmost  magnificence. 

As  a  monument  of  gratitude  to  God  for  the 
prosperity  with  which  he  had  been  favored,  he 
undertook  to  erect  a  mosque  in  his  favorite  city  cf 
Cordova,  that  should  rival  in  splendor  the  great 
mosque  of  Damascus,  and  excel  the  one  recently 
erected  in  Bagdad  by  the  Abassides,  the  supplant- 
ers  of  his  family. 

It  is  said  that  he  himself  furnished  the  plan  for 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


435 


this  famous  edifice,  and  even  worked  on  it,  with 
his  own  hands,  one  hour  in  each  day,  to  testify 
his  zeal  and  humility  in  the  service  ot  God,  and 
to  animate  his  workmen.  He  did  not  live  to  see 
it  completed,  hut  it  was  finished  according  to  his 
plans  by  his  son  Hixem.  When  finished,  it  sur- 
passed the  most  splendid  mosques  of  the  east.  It 
was  six  hundred  feet  in  lengtn,  and  two  hundred 
and  fifty  in  breadth.  Within  were  twenty-eight 
aisles,  crossed  by  nineteen,  supported  by  a  thou- 
sand and  ninety -three  columns  of  marble.  There 
were  nineteen  portals,  covered  with  plates  of 
bronze  of  rare  workmanship.  The  principal 
portal  was  covered  with  plates  of  gold.  On  the 
summit  of  the  grand  cupola  were  three  gilt  balls 
surmounted  by  a  golden  pomegranate.  At  night, 
the  mosque  was  illuminated  with  four  thousand 
seven  hundred  lamps,  and  great  sums  were  ex- 
pended in  amber  and  aloes,  which  were  burned 
as  perfumes.  The  mosque  remains  to  this  day, 
shorn  of  its  ancient  splendor,  yet  still  one  of  the 
grandest  Moslem  monuments  in  Spain. 

Finding  himself  advancing  in  years,  Abderah- 
man  assembled  in  his  capital  of  Cordova  the  prin- 
cipal governors  and  commanders  of  his  kingdom, 
and  in  presence  of  them  all,  with  great  solemnity, 
nominated  his  son  Hixem  as  the  successor  to  the 
throne.  All  present  made  an  oath  of  fealty  to 
Abderahmin  during  his  life,  and  to  Hixem  after 
his  death.  The  prince  was  younger  than  his 
brothers,  Soleiman  and  Abdallah  ;  but  he  was 
the  son  of  Ho\vara,  the  tenderly  beloved  sultana 
ot  Abderahman,  and  her  influence,  it  is  said, 
gained  him  this  preference. 

Within  a  tew  months  afterward,  Abderahman 
fell  grievously  sic,k  at  Mericla.  Finding  his  end 
approaching,  he  summoned  Hixem  to  his  bed- 
side :  "My  son, "  said  he,  "the  angel  of  death 
is  hovering  over  me  ;  treasure  up,  therefore,  in 
thy  heart  this  dying  counsel,  which  I  give  through 
the  great  love  I  bear  thee.  Remember  that  all 
empire  is  from  God,  who  gives  and  takes  it  away, 
according  to  his  pleasure.  Since  God,  through 
his  divine  goodness,  has  given  us  regal  power 
and  authority,  let  us  do  his  holy  will,  which  is 
nothing  else  than  to  do  good  to  all  men,  and  es- 
pecially to  those  committed  to  our  protection. 
Render  equal  justice,  my  son,  to  the  rich  and  the 
poor,  and  never  suffer  injustice  to  be  done  within 
thy  dominion,  for  it  is  the  road  to  perdition.  Be 
merciful  and  benignant  to  those  dependent  upon 
thee.  Confide  the  government  of  thy  cities  and 
provinces  to  men  of  worth  and  experience  ;  pun- 
ish without  compassion  those  ministers  who  op- 
press thy  people  with  exorbitant  exactions.  Pay 
thy  troop?  punctually  ;  teach  them  to  feel  a  cer- 
tainty in  thy  promises  ;  command  them  with  gen- 
tleness but  firmness,  and  make  them  in  truth  the 
defenders  ot  the  state,  not  its  destroyers.  Culti- 
vate unceasingly  the  affections  of  thy  people,  for 
in  their  good-will  consists  the  security  of  the 
state,  in  their  distrust  its  peril,  in  their  hatred  its 
certain  ruin.  Protect  the  husbandmen  who  cul- 
tivate the  earth,  an;l  yield  us  necessary  suste- 
nance ;  never  permit  their  fields,  and  groves,  and 
gardens  to  be  disturbed.  In  a  word,  act  in  such 
wise  that  thy  people  may  bless  thee,  and  may 
enjoy,  under  the  shadow  of  thy  wing,  a  secure 
and  tranquil  life.  In  this  consists  good  govern- 
ment ;  if  thou  dost  practice  it,  tnou  wilt  be  happy 
among  thy  people,  and  renowned  throughout  the 
world." 

Having  given  this  excellent  counsel,  the  good 
king  Abderahman  blessed  his  son  Hixem,  and 
shortly  after  died  ;  being  but  in  the  sixtieth  year 


of  his  age.  He  was  interred  with  great  pomp  ; 
but  the  highest  honors  that  distinguished  his 
funeral  were  the  tears  of  real  sorrow  shed  upon 
his  grave.  He  left  behind  him  a  name  for  valor, 
justice,  and  magnanimity,  and  forever  famous  as 
being  the  founder  of  the  glorious  line  of  the  Om- 
miades  in  Spain. 


THE  WIDOW'S  ORDEAL, 

OR   A  JUDICIAL  TRIAL   BY   COMBAT. 

THE  world  is  daily  growing  older  and  wiser. 
Its  institutions  vary  with  its  years,  and  mark  its 
growing  wisdom  ;  and  none  more  so  than  its 
modes  of  investigating  truth,  and  ascertaining 
guilt  or  innocence.  In  its  nonage,  when  man  was 
yet  a  fallible  being,  and  doubted  the  accuracy  of 
his  own  intellect,  appeals  were  made  to  heaven 
in  dark  and  doubtful  cases  ot  atrocious  accusation. 

The  accused  was  required  to  plunge  his  hand  in 
boiling  oil,  or  to  walk  across  red-hot  ploughshares, 
or  to  maintain  his  innocence  in  armed  fight  and 
listed  field,  in  person  or  by  champion.  If  he 
passed  these  ordeals  unscathed,  he  stood  ac- 
quitted, and  the  result  was  regarded  as  a  verdict 
from  on  high. 

It  is  somewhat  remarkable  that,  in  the  gallant 
age  of  chivalry,  the  gentler  sex  should  have  been 
most  frequently  the  subjects  of  these  rude  trials 
and  perilous  ordeals  ;  and,  that,  too,  when  assailed 
in  their  most  delicate  and  vulnerable  part — their 
honor. 

In  the  present  very  old  and  enlightened  age  of 
the  world,  when  the  human  intellect  is  perfectly 
competent  to  the  management  of  its  own  con- 
cerns, and  needs  no  special  interposition  of 
heaven  in  its  affairs,  the  trial  by  jury  has  super- 
seded these  superhuman  ordeals  ;  and  the  unan- 
imity ot  twelve  discordant  minds  is  necessary  to 
constitute  a  verdict.  Such  a  unanimity  would,  at 
first  sight,  appear  also  to  require  a  miracle  from 
heaven  ;  but  it  is  produced  by  a  simple  device  of 
human  ingenuity.  The  twelve  jurors  are  locked 
up  in  their  box,  there  to  fast  until  abstinence 
shall  have  so  clarified  their  intellects  that  the 
whole  jarring  panel  can  discern  the  truth,  and 
concur  in  a  unanimous  decision.  One  point  is 
certain,  that  truth  is  one,  and  is  immutable — until 
the  jurors  all  agree,  they  cannot  all  be  right. 

It  is  not  our  intention,  however,  to  discuss  this 
great  judicial  point,  or  to  question  the  avowed 
superiority  of  the  mode  ot  investigating  truth 
adopted  in  this  antiquated  and  very  sagacious 
era.  It  is  our  object  merely  to  exhibit  to  the  cu- 
rious reader  one  ot  the  most  memorable  cases  of 
judicial  combat  we  find  in  the  annals  of  Spain.  It 
occurred  at  the  bright  commencement  of  the 
reign,  and  in  the  youthful,  and,  as  yet,  glorious 
days,  of  Roderick  the  Goth  ;  who  subsequently 
tarnished  his  tame  at  home  by  his  misdeeds,  and, 
finally,  lost  his  kingdom  and  his  life  on  the  banks 
of  the  Guadalete,  in  that  disastrous  battle  which 
gave  up  Spain  a  conquest  to  the  Moors.  The  fol- 
lowing  is  the  story  : 

There  was  once  upon  a  time  a  certain  duke  ot 
Lorraine,  who  was  acknowledged  throughout 
his  domains  to  be  one  ot  the  wisest  princes  that 
ever  lived.  In  fact,  there  was  no  one  measure 
adopted  by  him  that  did  not  astonish  his  privy 
counsellors  and  gentlemen  in  attendance  ;  and 
he  said  such  witty  things,  and  made  such  sensible 


430 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


speeches,  that  the  jaws  of  his  high  chamberlain 
were  well  nigh  dislocated  from  laughing  with  de- 
light at  one,  and  gaping  with  wonder  at  the 
other. 

This  very  witty  and  exceedingly  wise  potentate 
lived  lor  half  a  century  in  single-blessedness  ;  at 
length  his  courtiers  began  to  think  it  a  great  pity 
so  wise  and  wealthy  a  prince  should  not  have  a 
child  after  his  own  likeness,  to  inherit  his  talents 
and  domains  ;  so  they  urged  him  most  respectfully 
to  marry,  for  the  good  of  his  estate,  and  the  wel- 
fare of  his  subjects. 

He  turned  their  advice  over  in  his  mind  some 
four  or  five  years,  and  then  sent  forth  emissaries 
to  summon  to  his  court  all  the  beautiful  maidens 
in  the  land  who  were  ambitious  of  sharing  a 
ducal  crown.  The  court  was  soon  crowded  with 
beauties  of  all  styles  and  complexions,  from 
among  whom  he  chose  one  in  the  earliest  bud- 
ding of  her  charms,  and  acknowledged  by  all  the 
gentlemen  to  be  unparalleled  for  grace  and  love- 
liness. The  courtiers  extolled  the  duke  to  the 
skies  for  making  such  a  choice,  and  considered  it 
another  proof  ot  his  great  wisdom.  "  The  duke," 
said  they,  "  is  waxing  a  little  too  old,  the  damsel, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  a  little  too  young  ;  if  one  is 
lacking  in  years,  the  other  has  a  superabundance  ; 
thus  a  want  on  one  side  is  balanced  by  the  excess 
on  the  other,  and  the  result  is  a  well-assorted 
marriage." 

The  duke,  as  is  often  the  case  with  wise  men 
who  marry  rather  late,  and  take  damsels  rather 
youthful  to  their  bosoms,  became  clotingly  fond 
of  his  wife,  and  very  properly  indulged  her  in  all 
things.  He  was,  consequently,  cried  up  by  his 
subjects  in  general,  and  by  the  ladies  in  particu- 
lar, as  a  pattern  for  husbands  ;  and,  in  the  end, 
Irom  the  wonderful  docility  with  which  he  sub- 
mitted to  be  reined  and  checked,  acquired  the 
amiable  and  enviable  appellation  of  Duke  Phili- 
bert  the  wife-ridden. 

There  was  only  one  thing  that  disturbed  the 
conjugal  felicity  of  this  paragon  of  husbands — 
though  a  considerable  time  elapsed  after  his  mar- 
riage, there  was  still  no  prospect  of  an  heir.  The 
good  duke  left  no  means  untried  to  propitiate 
Heaven.  He  made  vows  and  pilgrimages,  he 
fasted  and  he  prayed,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  The 
courtiers  were  all  astonished  at  the  circumstance. 
They  could  not  account  for  it.  While  the  mean- 
est peasant  in  the  country  had  sturdy  brats  by 
dozens,  without  putting  up  a  prayer,  the  duke 
wore  himself  to  skin  and  bune  with  penances  and 
fastings,  yet  seemed  farther  off  from  his  object 
than  ever. 

At  length,  the  worthy  prince  fell  dangerously 
ill,  and  felt  his  end  approaching.  He  looked  sor- 
rowfully and  dubiously  upon  his  young  and  ten- 
der spouse,  who  hung  over  him  with  tears  and 
sobbings.  "Alas!"  said  he,  "tears  are  soon 
dried  from  youthful  eyes,  and  sorrow  lies  lightly 
on  a  youthful  heart.  In  a  little  while  thou  wilt 
forget  in  the  arms  of  another  husband  him  who 
has  loved  thee  so  tenderly." 

"  Never  !  never  !"  cried  the  duchess.  "  Never 
will  I  cleave  to  another  !  Alas,  that  my  lord 
should  think  me  capable  of  such  inconstancy  !" 

The  worthy  and  wife-ridden  duke  was  soothed 
by  her  assurances;  for  he  could  not  brook  the 
thought  of  giving  her  up  even  after  he  should  be 
dead.  Still  he  wished  to  have  some  pledge  of 
her  enduring  constancy  : 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,  my  dearest  wife,"  said 
he,  "  to  control  thee  through  a  long  life.  A  year 
and  a  day  of  strict  fidelity  will  appease  rr.y  troubled 


spirit.  Promise  to  remain  faithful  to  my  memory 
lor  a  year  and  a  day,  and  I  will  die  in  peace." 

The  duchess  made  a  solemn  vow  to  that  effect, 
but  the  uxorious  feelings  of  the  duke  were  not 
yet  satisfied.  "Safe  bind,  safe  find,"  thought 
he  ;  so  he  made  a  will,  bequeathing  to  her  all  his 
domains,  on  condition  ot  her  remaining  true  to 
him  lor  a  year  and  a  clay  after  his  decease  ;  but, 
should  it  appear  that,  within  that  time,  she  had  in 
anywise  lapsed  from  her  fidelity,  the  inheritance 
should  go  to  his  nephew,  the  lord  of  a  neighbor- 
ing territory. 

Hai'ing  made  his  will,  the  good  duke  died  and 
was  buried.  Scarcely  was  he  in  his  tomb,  when 
his  nephew  came  to  take  possession,  thinking,  as 
his  uncle  had  died  without  issue,  the  domains 
would  be  devised  to  him  of  course.  He  was  in  a 
furious  passion,  when  the  will  was  produced,  and 
the  young  widow  declared  inheritor  of  the  duke- 
dom. As  he  was  a  violent,  high-handed  man,  and 
one  of  the  sturdiest  knights  in  the  land,  fears 
were  entertained  that  he  might  attempt  to  seize 
on  the  territories  by  force.  He  had,  however, 
two  bachelor  uncles  for  bosom  counsellors,  swag- 
gering, rakehelly  old  cavaliers,  who,  having  led 
loose  and  riotous  lives,  prided  themselves  upon 
knowing  the  world,  and  being  deeply  experienced 
in  human  nature.  "  Prithee,  man,  be  of  good 
cheer,"  said  they,  "  the  duchess  is  a  young  and 
buxom  widow.  She  has  just  buried  cur  brother, 
who,  God  rest  his  soul  !  was  somewhat  too  much 
given  to  praying  and  fasting,  and  kept  his  pretty 
wife  always  tied  to  his  girdle.  She  is  now  like  a 
bird  from  a  cage.  Think  you  she  will  keep  her 
vow?  Pooh,  pooh — impossible  !  Take  our  words 
for  it — we  know  mankind,  and,  above  all,  woman- 
kind. She  cannot  hold  out  for  such  a  length  of 
time  ;  it  is  not  in  womanhood — it  is  not  in  widow- 
hood— we  know  it,  and  that's  enough.  Keep  a 
sharp  look-out  upon  the  widow,  therefore,  and 
within  the  twelvemonth  you  will  catch  her  trip- 
ping— and  then  the  dukedom  is  your  own." 

The  nephew  was  pleased  with  this  counsel,  and 
immediately  placed  spies  round  the  duchess,  and 
bribed  several  of  her  servants  to  keep  watch  upon 
her,  so  that  she  could  not  take  a  single  step,  even 
from  one  apartment  of  her  palace  to  another, 
without  being  observed.  Never  was  young  and 
beautiful  widow  exposed  to  so  terrible  an  ordeal. 

The  duchess  was  aware  of  the  watch  thus  kept 
upon  her.  Though  confident  of  her  own  rectitude, 
she  knew  that  it  is  not  enough  for  a  woman  to  be 
virtuous — she  must  be  above  the  reach  of  slan- 
der. For  the  whole  term  of  her  probation,  there- 
fore, she  proclaimed  a  strict  non-intercourse  with 
the  other  sex.  She  had  females  for  cabinet  minis- 
ters and  chamberlains,  through  whom  she  trans- 
acted all  her  public  and  private  concerns  ;  and  it 
is  said  that  never  were  the  affairs  of  the  duke- 
dom so  adroitly  administered. 

All  males  were  rigorously  excluded  from  the 
palace  ;  she  never  went  out  of  its  precincts,  and 
whenever  she  moved  about  its  courts  and  gar- 
dens, she  surrounded  herself  with  a  body-guard 
of  young  maids  of  honor,  commanded  by  dames 
renewed  for  discretion.  She  slept  in  a  bed  without 
curtains,  placed  in  the  centre  of  a  room  illumin- 
ated by  innumerable  wax  tapers.  Four  ancient 
spinsters,  virtuous  as  Virginia,  perfect  dragons  of 
watchfulness,  who  only  slept  during  the  daytime, 
kept  vigils  throughout  the  night,  seated  in  the 
four  corners  of  the  room  on  stools  without  backs 
or  arms,  and  with  seats  cut  in  checkers  of  the 
hardest  wood,  to  keep  them  from  dozing. 

Thus  wisely  and  warily  did  the  young  duchess 


THE   CRAYON   PAPERS. 


437 


conduct  herself  for  twelve  long  months,  and 
slander  almost  bit  her  tongue  off  in  despair,  at 
finding  no  room  even  for  a  surmise.  Never  was 
ordeal  more  burdensome,  or  more  enduringly  sus- 
tained. 

The  year  passed  away.  The  last,  odd  day  ar- 
rived, and  a  long,  long  day  it  was.  It  was  the 
twenty-first  of  June,  the  longest  day  in  the  year. 
It  seemed  as  if  it  would  never  come  to  an  end. 
A  thousand  times  did  the  duchess  and  her  ladies 
watch  the  sun  from  the  windows  of  the  palace,  as 
he  slowly  climbed  the  vault  of  heaven,  and  seemed 
still  more  slowly  to  roll  down.  They  could  not 
help  expressing  their  wonder,  now  and  then,  why 
the  duke  should  have  tagged  this  supernumerary 
clay  to  the  end  of  the  year,  as  if  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days  were  not  sufficient  to  try  and  task 
the  fidelity  of  any  woman.  It  is  the  last  grain 
that  turns  the  scale — the  last  drop  that  overflows 
the  goblet— and  the  last  moment  of  delay  that  ex- 
hausts the  patience.  By  the  time  the  sun  sank 
below  the  horizon,  the  duchess  was  in  a  fidget 
that  passed  all  bounds,  and,  though  several  hours 
were  yet  to  pass  before  the  day  regularly  expired, 
she  could  not  have  remained  those  hours  in  dur- 
ance to  gain  a  royal  crown,  much  less  a  ducal 
coronet.  So  she  gave  orders,  and  her  palfrey, 
magnificently  caparisoned,  was  brought  into  the 
court-yard  of  the  castle,  with  palfreys  lor  all  her 
ladies  in  attendance.  In  this  way  she  sallied  forth, 
just  as  the  sun  had  gone  down.  It  was  a  mission 
of  piety — a  pilgrim  cavalcade  to  a  convent  at  the 
foot  of  a  neighboring  mountain — to  return  thanks 
to  the  blessed  Virgin,  for  having  sustained  her 
through  this  fearful  ordeal. 

The  orisons  performed,  the  duchess  and  her 
ladies  returned,  ambling  gently  along  the  border 
of  a  forest.  It  was  about  that  mellow  hour  of 
twilight  when  night  and  day  are  mingled,  and  all 
objects  are  indistinct.  Suddenly,  some  mon- 
strous animal  sprang  from  out  a  thicket,  with  fear- 
ful howlings.  The  female  body-guard  was  thrown 
into  confusion,  and  fled  different  ways.  It  was 
some  time  before  they  recovered  from  their  panic, 
and  gathered  once  more  together  ;  but  the  duch- 
ess was  not  to  be  found.  The  greatest  anxiety  was 
felt  for  her  safety.  The  hazy  mist  of  twilight  had 
prevented  their  distinguishing  perfectly  the  ani- 
mal which  had  affrighted  them.  Some  thought  it 
a  wolf,  others  a  bear,  others  a  wild  man  of  the 
woods.  For  upwards  of  an  hour  did  they  be- 
leaguer the  forest,  without  daring  to  venture  in, 
and  were  on  the  point  of  giving  up  the  duchess  as 
torn  to  pieces  and  devoured,  when,  to  their  great 
joy,  they  beheld  her  advancing  in  the  gloom,  sup- 
ported by  a  stately  cavalier. 

He  was  a  stranger  knight,  whom  nobody  knew. 
It  was  impossible  to  distinguish  his  countenance 
in  the  dark  ;  but  all  the  ladies  agreed  that  he  was 
of  noble  presence  and  captivating  address.  He 
had  rescued  the  duchess  from  the  very  fangs  of 
the  monster,  which,  he  assured  the  ladies,  was 
neither  a  wolf,  nor  a  bear,  nor  yet  a  wild  man  of 
the  woods,  but  a  veritable  fiery  dragon,  a  species 
of  monster  peculiarly  hostile  to  beautiful  females 
in  the  days  of  chivalry,  and  which  all  the  efforts 
of  knight-errantry  had  not  been  able  to  extirpate. 

The  ladies  crossed  themselves  when  they  heard 
of  the  danger  from  which  they  had  escaped,  and 
could  not  enough  admire  the  gallantry  of  the 
cavalier.  The  duchess  would  fain  have  prevailed 
on  her  deliverer  to  accompany  her  to  her  court  ; 
but  he  had  no  time  to  spare,  being  a  knight-er- 
rant, who  had  many  adventures  on  hand,  and 
many  distressed  damsels  and  afflicted  widows  to 


rescue  and  relieve  in  various  parts  of  the  country. 
Taking  a  respectful  leave,  therefore,  he  pursued 
his  wayfaring,  and  the  duchess  and  her  train  re- 
turned to  the  palace.  Throughout  the  whole  way, 
the  ladies  were  unwearied  in  chanting  the  praises 
of  the  stranger  knight,  nay,  many  of  them  would 
willingly  have  incurred  the  danger  of  the  dragon 
to  have  enjoyed  the  happy  deliverance  of  the 
duchess.  As  to  the  latter,  she  rode  pensively 
along,  but  said  nothing. 

No  sooner  was  the  adventure  of  the  wood  made 
public,  than  a  whirlwind  was  raised  about  the 
ears  of  the  beautiful  duchess.  The  blustering 
nephew  of  the  deceased  duke  went  about,  armed 
to  the  teeth,  with  a  swaggering  uncle  at  each 
shoulder,  ready  to  back  him,  and  swore  the 
duchess  had  forfeited  her  domain.  It  was  in  vain 
that  she  called  all  the  saints,  and  angels,  and  her 
ladies  in  attendance  into  the  bargain,  to  witness 
that  she  had  passed  a  year  and  a  day  of  immacu- 
late fidelity.  One  fatal  hour  remained  to  be  ac- 
counted for  ;  and  into  the  space  ol  one  little  hour 
sins  enough  may  be  conjured  up  by  evil  tongues, 
to  blast  the  fame  of  a  whole  life  of  virtue. 

The  two  graceless  uncles,  who  had  seen  the 
world,  were  ever  ready  to  bolster  the  matter 
through,  and  as  they  were  brawny,  broad-shoul- 
dered warriors,  and  veterans  in  brawl  as  well  as 
debauch,  they  had  great  sway  with  the  multitude. 
If  any  one  pretended  to  assert  the  innocence  of 
the  duchess,  they  interrupted  him  with  a  loud  ha  ! 
ha  !  of  derision.  "  A  pretty  story,  truly,"  would 
they  cry,  "  about  a  wolf  and  a  dragon,  and  a 
young  widow  rescued  in  the  dark  by  a  sturdy  var- 
let  who  dares  not  show  his  face  in  the  daylight. 
You  may  tell  that  to  those  who  do  not  know  hu- 
man nature,  for  our  parts,  we  know  the  sex,  and 
that's  enough." 

If,  however,  the  other  repeated  his  assertion, 
they  would  suddenly  knit  their  brows,  swell,  look 
big,  and  put  their  hands  upon  their  swords.  As 
few  people  like  to  fight  in  a  cause  that  does  not 
touch  their  own  interests,  the  nephew  and  the 
uncles  were  suffered  to  have  their  way,  and  swag- 
ger uncontradicted. 

The  matter  was  at  length  referred  to  a  tribunal, 
composed  of  all  the  dignitaries  of  the  dukedom, 
and  many  and  repeated  consultations  were  held. 
The  character  of  the  duchess  throughout  the  year 
was  as  bright  and  spotless  as  the  moon  in  a 
cloudless  night  ;  one  fatal  hour  of  darkness  alone 
intervened  to  eclipse  its  brightness.  Finding  hu- 
man sagacity  incapable  of  dispelling  the  mystery, 
it  was  determined  to  leave  the  question  to  heaven  ; 
or  in  other  words,  to  decide  it  by  the  ordeal  of  the 
sword — a  sage  tribunal  in  the  age  of  chivalry. 
The  nephew  and  two  bully  uncles  were  to  main- 
tain their  accusation  in  listed  combat,  and  six 
months  were  allowed  to  the  duchess  to  provide 
herself  with  three  champions,  to  meet  them  in  the 
field.  Should  she  fail  in  this,  or  should  her 
champions  be  vanquished,  her  honor  would  be 
considered  as  attainted,  her  fidelity  as  forfeit,  and 
her  dukedom  would  go  to  the  nephew,  as  a  matter 
of  right. 

With  this  determination  the  duchess  was  fain 
to  comply.  Proclamations  were  accordingly- 
made,  and  heralds  sent  to  various  parts  ;  but  day 
after  day,  week  after  week,  and  month  after 
month,  elapsed,  without  any  champion  appearing 
to  assert  her  loyalty  throughout  that  darksome 
hour.  The  fair  widow  was  reduced  to  despair, 
when  tidings  reached  her  of  grand  tournaments 
to  be  held  at  Toledo,  in  celebration  of  the  nuptials 
of  Don  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Gothic  kin^s, 


43S 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


with  the  Morisco  princess  Exilona.  As  a  last  re- 
sort, the  duchess  repaired  to  the  Spanish  court, 
to  implore  the  gallantry  of  its  assembled  chiv- 
alry. 

The  ancient  city  of  Toledo  was  a  scene  of  gor- 
geous revelry  on  the  event  of  the  royal  nuptials. 
The  youthful  king,  brave,  ardent,  and  magnifi- 
cent, and  his  lovely  bride,  beaming  with  all  the 
radiant  beauty  of  the  East,  were  hailed  with 
shouts  and  acclamations  whenever  they  appeared. 
Their  nobles  vied  with  each  other  in  the  luxury 
of  their  attire,  their  prancing  steeds,  and  splendid 
retinues  ;  and  the  haughty  dames  oi  the  court 
appeared  in  a  blaze  of  jewels. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  pagentry,  the  beautiful, 
but  afflicted  Duchess  of  Lorraine  made  her  ap- 
proach to  the  throne.  She  was  dressed  in  black, 
and  closely  vailed  ;  four  duennas  of  the  most  staid 
and  severe  aspect,  and  six  beautiful  demoiselles, 
formed  her  female  attendants.  She  was  guarded 
by  several  very  ancient,  withered,  and  gray  headed 
cavaliers  ;  and  her  train  was  borne  by  one  of  the 
most  deformed  and  diminutive  dwarfs  in  exist- 
ence. 

Advancing  to  the  foot  of  the  throne,  she  knelt 
down,  and,  throwing  up  her  veil,  revealed  a  coun- 
tenance so  beautiful  that  half  the  courtiers  pres- 
ent were  ready  to  renounce  wives  and  mistresses, 
and  devote  themselves  to  her  service  ;  but  when 
she  made  known  that  she  came  in  quest  of  cham- 
pions to  defend  her  fame,  every  cavalier  pressed 
forward  to  offer  his  arm  and  sword,  without  in- 
quiring into  the  merits  of  the  case  ;  for  it  seemed 
clear  that  so  beauteous  a  lady  could  have  done 
nothing  but  what  was  right  ;  and  that,  at  any 
rate,  she  ought  to  be  championed  in  following  the 
bent  of  her  humors,  whether  right  or  wrong. 

Encouraged  by  such  gallant  zeal,  the  duchess 
suffered  herself  to  be  raised  from  the  ground,  and 
related  the  whole  story  of  her  distress.  When 
she  concluded,  the  king  remained  for  some  time 
silent,  charmed  by  the  music  of  her  voice.  At 
length  :  "  As  I  hope  for  salvation,  most  beautiful 
duchess,"  said  he,  "  were  I  not  a  sovereign  king, 
and  bound  in  duty  to  my  kingdom,  I  myself 
would  put  lance  in  rest  to  vindicate  your  cause  ; 
as  it  is,  I  here  give  full  permission  to  my  knights, 
and  promise  lists  and  a  fair  field,  and  that  the 
contest  shall  take  place  before  the  walls  of  Toledo, 
in  presence  of  my  assembled  court." 

As  soon  as  the  pleasure  of  the  king  was  known, 
there  was  a  strife  among  the  cavaliers  present, 
for  the  honor  of  the  contest.  It  was  decided  by  lot, 
and  the  successful  candidates  were  objects  of 
great  envy,  lor  every  one  was  ambitious  of  find- 
ing favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  beautiful  widow. 

Missives  were  sent,  summoning  the  nephew  a-nd 
his  two  uncles  to  Toledo,  to  maintain  their  accu- 
sation, and  a  day  was  appointed  for  the  combat. 
When  the  day  arrived,  all  Toledo  was  in  commo- 
tion at  an  early  hour.  The  lists  had  been  pre- 
pared in  the  usual  place,  just  without  the  walls, 
at  the  foot  of  the  rugged  rocks  on  which  the  city 
is  built,  and  on  that  beautiful  meadow  along  the 
Tagus,  known  by  the  name  of  the  king's  garden. 
The  populace  had  already  assembled,  each  one 
eager  to  secure  a  favorable  place  ;  the  balconies 
were  filled  with  the  ladies  of  the  court,  clad  in  their 
richest  attire,  and  bands  of  youthful  knights, 
splendidly  armed  and  decorated  with  their  ladies' 
devices,  were  managing  their  superbl  y  capari- 
soned steeds  about  the  field.  The  king  at  length 
came  forth  in  state,  accompanied  by  the  queen 
Exilona.  They  took  their  seats  in  a  raised  bal- 
cony, under  a  canopy  of  rich  damask  ;  and,  at 


sight  of  them,  the  people  rent  the  air  with  accla- 
mations. 

The  nephew  and  his  uncles  now  rode  into  the 
field,  armed  cap-d-pie,  and  followed  by  a  train  of 
cavaliers  of  their  own  roystering  cast,  great  swear- 
ers and  carousers,  arrant  swashbucklers,  with 
clanking  armor  and  jingling  spurs.  When  the 
people  of  Toledo  beheld  the  vaunting  and  discour- 
teous appearance  of  these  knights,  they  were 
more  anxious  than  ever  for  the  success  of  the 
gentle  duchess  ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  the  sturdy 
and  stalwart  frames  of  these  warriors,  showed 
that  whoever  won  the  victory  from  them,  must  do 
it  at  the  cost  of  many  a  bitter  blow. 

As  the  nephew  and  his  riotous  crew  rode  in  at 
one  side  of  the  field,  the  fair  widow  appeared  at 
the  other,  with  her  suite  of  grave  grayheaded 
courtiers,  her  ancient  duennas  and  dainty  demoi- 
selles, and  the  little  dwarf  toiling  along  under  the 
weight  of  her  train.  Every  one  made  way  for  her 
as  she  passed,  and  blessed  her  beautiful  face,  and 
prayed  for  success  to  her  cause.  She  took  her 
seat  in  a  lower  balcony,  not  far  from  the  sover- 
eigns ;  and  her  pale  face,  set  off  by  her  mourn- 
ing weeds,  was  as  the  moon  shining  forth  irom 
among  the  clouds  of  night. 

The  trumpets  sounded  for  the  combat.  The 
warriors  were  just  entering  the  lists,  when  a 
stranger  knight,  armed  in  panoply,  and  followed 
by  two  pages  and  an  esquire,  came  galloping  into 
the  field,  and,  riding  up  to  the  royal  balcony, 
claimed  the  combat  as  a  matter  of  right. 

"  In  me,"  cried  he,  "  behold  the  cavalier  who 
had  the  happiness  to  rescue  the  beautiful  duchess 
from  the  peril  of  the  forest,  and  the  misfortune  to 
bring  on  her  this  grievous  calumny.  It  was  but 
recently,  in  the  course  of  my  errantry,  thai  tidings 
of  her  wrongs  have  reached  my  ears,  and  I  have 
urged  hither  at  all  speed,  to  stand  forth  in  her 
vindication." 

No  sooner  did  the  duchess  hear  the  accents  of 
the  knight  than  she  recognized  his  voice,  and 
joined  her  prayers  with  his  that  he  might  enter 
the  lists.  The  difficulty  was,  to  determine  which 
of  the  three  champions  already  appointed  should 
yield  his  place,  each  insisting  on  the  honor  of  the 
combat.  The  stranger  knight  would  have  settled 
the  point,  by  taking  the  whole  contest  upon  him- 
self ;  but  this  the  other  knights  would  not  permit. 
It  was  at  length  determined,  as  belore,  by  lot, 
and  the  cavalier  who  lost  the  chance  retired  mur- 
muring and  disconsolate. 

The  trumpets  again  sounded — the  lists  were 
opened.  The  arrogant  nephew  and  his  two  draw- 
cansir  uncles  appeared  so  completely  cased  in 
steel,  that  they  and  their  steeds  were  like  moving 
masses  of  iron.  When  they  understood  the 
stranger  knight  to  be  the  same  that  had  rescued 
the  duchess  from  her  peril,  they  greeted  him  with 
the  most  boisterous  derision  : 

''  O  ho  !  sir  Knight  of  the  Dragon,"  said  they, 
"  you  who  pretend  to  champion  iair  widows  in  the 
dark,  come  on,  and  vindicate  your  deeds  of  dark- 
ness in  the  open  day." 

The  only  reply  of  the  cavalier  was  to  put  lance 
in  rest,  and  brace  himself  lor  the  encounter. 
Needless  is  it  to  relate  the  particulars  ol  a  battle, 
which  was  like  so  many  hundred  combats  that 
have  been  said  and  sung  in  prose  and  verse. 
Who  is  there  but  must  have  loreseen  the  event  of 
a  contest,  where  Heaven  had  to  decide  on  the 
guilt  or  innocence  of  the  most  beautiful  and  im- 
maculate of  widows  ? 

The  sagacious  reader,  deeply  read  in  this  kind 
of  judicial  combats,  can  imagine  the  encounter  of 


X///'  //////  ///  g  ////////. 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


439 


the  graceless  nephew  and  the  stranger  knight.  He 
sees  their  concussion,  man  to  man,  and  horse  to 
horse,  in  mid  career,  and  sir  Graceless  hurled  to 
the  ground,  and  slain.  He  will  not  wonder  that 
the  assailants  of  the  brawny  uncles  were  less  suc- 
cessful in  their  rude  encounter  ;  but  he  will  pic- 
ture to  himself  the  stout  stranger  spurring  to  their 
rescue,  in  the  very  critical  moment  ;  he  will  see 
him  transfixing  one  with  his  lance,  and  cleaving 
the  other  to  the  chine  with  a  back  stroke  of  his 
sword,  thus  leaving  the  trio  of  accusers  dead 
upon  the  field,  and  establishing  the  immaculate 
fidelity  of  the  duchess,  and  her  title  to  the  duke- 
dom, beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt. 

The  air  rang  with  acclamations  ;  nothing  was 
heard  but  praises  of  the  beauty  and  virtue  of  the 
duchess,  and  of  the  prowess  of  the  stranger 
knight  ;  but  the  public  joy  was  still  more  in- 
creased when  the  champion  raised  his  visor,  and 
revealed  the  countenance  of  one  ot  the  bravest 
cavaliers  of  Spain,  renowned  for  his  gallantry  in 
the  service  of  the  sex,  and  who  had  been  round 
the  world  in  quest  of  similar  adventures. 

That  worthy  knight,  however,  was  severely 
wounded,  and  remained  for  a  long  time  ill  of  his 
wounds.  The  lovely  duchess,  grateful  for  having 
twice  owed  her  protection  to  his  arm,  attended 
him  daily  during  his  illness  ;  and  finally  rewarded 
his  gallantry  with  her  hand. 

The  king  would  fain  have  had  the  knight  es- 
tablish his  title  to  such  high  advancement  by- 
farther  deeds  of  arms  ;  but  his  courtiers  declared 
that  he  already  merited  the  lady,  by  thus  vindi- 
cating her  lame  and  fortune  in  a  deadly  combat 
to  outrance  ;  and  the  lady  herself  hinted  that  she 
was  perfectly  satisfied  ot"  his  prowess  in  arms, 
from  the  proofs  she  had  received  in  his  achieve- 
ment in  the  forest. 

Their  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  great  mag- 
nificence. The  present  husband  of  the  duchess 
did  not  pray  and  fast  like  his  predecessor,  Phili- 
bert  the  wife-ridden  ;  yet  he  found  greater  favor 
in  the  eyes  of  Heaven,  for  their  union  was  blessed 
with  a  numerous  progeny — the  daughters  chaste 
and  beauteous  as  their  mother  ;  the  sons  stout 
and  valiant  as  their  sire,  and  renowned,  like  him, 
for  relieving  disconsolate  damsels  and  desolated 
widows. 


THE  CREOLE  VILLAGE: 

A   SKETCH    FROM    A   STEAMBOAT. 
First  Published  in  1837. 

IN  travelling  about  our  motley  country,  I  am 
often  reminded  of  Ariosto's  account  of  the  moon, 
in  ivhich  the  good  paladin  Astolpho  found  every- 
thing garnered  up  that  had  been  lost  on  earth. 
So  I  am  apt  to  imagine,  that  many  things  lost  in 
the  old  world,  are  treasured  up  in  the  new  ;  hav- 
ing been  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion, since  the  early  days  of  the  colonies.  A  Eu- 
ropean antiquary,  therefore,  curious  in  his  re- 
searches after  the  ancient  and  almost  obliterated 
customs  and  usages  of  his  country,  would  do  well 
to  put  himself  upon  the  track  of  some  early  band 
of  emigrants,  follow  them  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  rummage  among  their  descendants  on  our 
shores. 

In  the  phraseology  of  New  England  might  be 
found  many  an  old  English  provincial  phrase, 
long  since  obsolete  in  the  parent  country  ;  with 
•ome  quaint  relics  of  the  roundheads  ;  while  Vir- 


ginia cherishes  peculiarities  characteristic  of  the 
days  of  Elizabeth  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

In  the  same  way  the  sturdy  yeomanry  of  New 
Jersey  and  Pennsylvania  keep  up  many  usages 
fading  away  in  ancient  Germany  ;  while  many  an 
honest,  broad-bottomed  custom,  nearly  extinct  in 
venerable  Holland,  may  be  found  flourishing  m 
pristine  vigor  and  luxuriance  in  Dutch  villages, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Mohawk  and  the  Hudson. 

In  no  part  of  our  country,  however,  are  the  cus- 
toms and  peculiarities,  imported  from  the  old 
world  by  the  earlier  settlers,  kept  up  with  more 
fidelity  than  in  the  little,  poverty-stricken  villages 
ot  Spanish  and  French  origin,  which  border  the 
rivers  of  ancient  Louisiana.  Their  population  is 
generally  made  up  of  the  descendants  of  those 
nations,  married  and  interwoven  together,  and 
occasionally  crossed  with  a  slight  dash  of  the  In- 
dian. The  French  character,  however,  floats  on 
top,  as,  from  its  buoyant  qualities,  it  is  sure  to 
do,  whenever  it  forms  a  particle,  however  small, 
of  an  intermixture. 

In  these  serene  and  dilapidated  villages,  art 
and  nature  stand  still,  and  the  world  forgets  to 
turn  round.  The  revolutions  that  distract  other 
parts  ot  this  mutable  planet,  reach  not  here,  or 
pass  over  without  leaving  any  trace.  The  fortu- 
nate inhabitants  have  none  of  that  public  spirit 
which  extends  its  cares  beyond  its  horizon,  and 
imports  trouble  and  perplexity  from  all  quarters 
in  newspapers.  In  fact,  newspapers  are  almost 
unknown  in  these  villages,  and  as  French  is  the 
current  language,  the  inhabitants  have  little  com- 
munity of  opinion  with  their  republican  neigh- 
bors. They  retain,  therefore,  their  old  habits  of 
passive  obedience  to  the  decrees  of  government, 
as  though  they  still  lived  under  the  absolute  sway 
of  colonial  commandants,  instead  of  being  part 
and  parcel  of  the  sovereign  people,  and  having  a 
voice  in  public  legislation. 

A  few  aged  men,  who  have  grown  gray  on  their 
hereditary  acres,  and  are  of  the  good  old  colonial 
stock,  exert  a  patriarchal  sway  in  all  matters  of 
public  and  private  import  ;  their  opinions  are  con- 
sidered oracular,  and  their  word  is  law. 

The  inhabitants,  moreover,  have  none  ot  that 
eagerness  for  gain  and  rage  for  improvement 
which  keep  our  people  continually  on  the  move, 
and  our  country  towns  incessantly  in  a  state  of 
transition.  There  the  magic  phrases,  "  town 
lots,"  "water  privileges,"  "railroads,"  and 
other  comprehensive  and  soul-stirring  words  from 
the  speculator's  vocabulary,  are  never  heard.  The 
residents  dwell  in  the  houses  built  by  their  fore- 
fathers, without  thinking  of  enlarging  or  modern- 
izing them,  or  pulling  them  down  and  turning 
them  into  granite  stores.  The  trees,  under  which 
they  have  been  born  and  have  played  in  infancy, 
flourish  undisturbed  ;  though,  by  cutting  them 
down,  they  might  open  new  streets,  and  put 
money  in  their  pockets.  In  a  word,  the  almighty 
dollar,  that  great  object  of  universal  devotion 
throughout  our  land,  seems  to  have  no  genuine 
devotees  in  these  peculiar  villages  ;  and  unless 
some  of  its  missionaries  penetrate  there,  and 
erect  banking  houses  and  other  pious  shrines, 
there  is  no  knowing  how  long  the  inhabitants 
may  remain  in  their  present  state  ot  contented 
poverty. 

In  descending  one  of  our  great  Western  rivers 
in  a  steamboat,  I  met  with  two  worthies  from  one 
of  these  villages,  who  had  been  on  a  distant  ex- 
cursion, the  longest  they  had  ever  made,  as  they 
seldom  ventured  far  from  home.  One  was  the 
great  man,  or  Grand  Seigneur,  of  the  village  ;  not 


440 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


that  he  enjoyed  any  legal  privileges  or  power  there, 
everything  ot  the  kind  having  been  done  away 
when  the  province  was  ceded  by  France  to  the 
United  States.  His  sway  over  his  neighbors  was 
merely  one  of  custom  and  convention,  out  of  def- 
erence to  his  family.  Beside,  he  was  worth  full 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  an  amount  almost  equal, 
in  the  imaginations  of  the  villagers,  to  the  trea- 
sures of  King  Solomon. 

This  very  substantial  old  gentleman,  though  of 
the  fourth  or  fifth  generation  in  this  country,  re- 
tained the  true  Gallic  feature  and  deportment,  and 
reminded  me  of  one  of  those  provincial  potentates 
that  are  to  be  met  with  in  the  remote  parts  of 
France.  He  was  of  a  large  frame,  a  ginger-bread 
complexion,  strong  features,  eyes  that  stood  out 
like  glass  knobs,  and  a  prominent  nose,  which  he 
frequently  regaled  from  a  gold  snuff-box,  and 
occasionally  blew,  with  a  colored  handkerchief, 
until  it  sounded  like  a  trumpet. 

He  was  attended  by  an  old  negro,  as  black  as 
ebony,  with  a  huge  mouth,  in  a  continual  grin  ; 
evidently  a  privileged  and  favorite  servant,  who 
had  grown  up  and  grown  old  with  him.  He  was 
dressed  in  Creole  style — with  white  jacket  and 
trousers,  a  stiff  shirt  collar,  that  threatened  to  cut 
off  his  ears,  a  bright  Madras  handkerchief  tied 
round t  his  head,  and  large  gold  ear-rings.  He 
was  the  politest  negro  1  met  with  in  a  Western 
tour  ;  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for,  ex- 
cepting the  Indians,  the  negroes  are  the  most 
gentlemanlike  personages  to  be  met  with  in  those 
parts.  It  is  true,  they  differ  from  the  Indians  in 
being  a  little  extra  polite  and  complimentary.  He 
was  also  one  of  the  merriest  ;  and  here,  too,  the 
negroes,  however  we  may  deplore  their  unhappy 
condition,  have  the  advantage  of  their  m'asters. 
The  whites  are,  in  general,  too  free  and  prosper- 
ous to  be  merry.  The  cares  of  maintaining  their 
rights  and  liberties,  adding  to  their  wealth,  and 
making  presidents,  engross  all  their  thoughts, 
and  dry  up  all  the  moisture  of  their  souls.  If  you 
hear  a  broad,  hearty,  devil-may-care  laugh,  be 
assured  it  is  a  negro's. 

Beside  this  African  domestic,  the  seigneur  of 
the  village  had  another  no  less  cherished  and 
privileged  attendant.  This  was  a  huge  dog,  of  the 
mastiff  breed,  with  a  deep,  hanging  mouth,  and  a 
look  ot  surly  gravity.  He  walked  about  the  cabin 
with  the  air  of  a  dog  perfectly  at  home,  and  who 
had  paid  for  his  passage.  At  dinner  time  he  took 
his  seat  beside  his  master,  giving  him  a  glance 
now  and  then  out  of  a  corner  ot  his  eye,  which 
bespoke  perfect  confidence  that  he  would  not  be 
forgotten.  Nor  was  he — every  now  and  then  a 
huge  morsel  would  be  thrown  to  him,  peradven- 
ture  the  halt-picked  leg  of  a  fowl,  which  he  would 
receive  with  a  snap  like  the  springing  of  a  steel- 
trap — one  gulp,  and  all  was  down  ;  and  a  glance 
of  the  eye  told  his  master  that  he  was  ready  for 
another  consignment. 

The  other  village  worthy,  travelling  in  company 
•with  the  seigneur,  was  of  a  totally  different 
stamp.  Small,  thin,  and  weazen  faced,  as  French- 
men are  apt  to  be  represented  in  caricature,  with 
a  bright,  squirrel-like  eye,  and  a  gold  ring  in  his 
ear.  His  dress  was  flimsy,  and  sat  loosely  on  his 
frame,  and  he  had  altogether  the  look  of  one  with 
but  little  coin  in  his  pocket.  Yet,  though  one  of 
the  poorest,  I  was  assured  he  was  one  of  the 
merriest  and  most  popular  personages  in  his  na- 
tive village. 

Compere  Martin,  as  he  was  commonly  called, 
was  the  factotum  of  the  place — sportsman,  school- 
master, and  land  surveyor.  He  could  sing,  dance, 


and,  above  all,  play  on  the  fiddle,  an  invaluable 
accomplishment  in  an  old  French  creole  village, 
for  the  inhabitants  have  a  hereditary  love  for  balls 
and  fetes  ;  if  they  work  but  little,  they  dance  a 
great  deal,  and  a  fiddle  is  the  joy  of  their  heart. 

What  had  sent  Compere  Martin  travelling  with 
the  Grand  Seigneur  I  could  not  learn  ;  he  evident- 
ly looked  up  to  him  with  great  deference,  and  was 
assiduous  in  rendering  him  petty  attentions  ; 
from  which  I  concluded  that  he  lived  at  home 
upon  the  crumbs  which  fell  from  his  table.  He 
was  gayest  when  out  of  his  sight  ;  and  had  his 
song  and  his  joke  when  forward,  among  the  deck 
passengers  ;  but  altogether  Compere  Martin  was 
out  of  his  element  on  board  of  a  steamboat.  He 
was  quite  another  being,  I  am  told,  when  at 
home  in  his  own  village. 

Like  his  opulent  fellow-traveller,  he  too  had  his 
canine  follower  and  retainer — and  one  suited  to 
his  different  fortunes — one  of  the  civilest,  most 
unoffending  little  dogs  in  the  world.  Unlike  the 
lordly  mastiff,  he  seemed  to  think  he  had  no  right 
on  board  of  the  steamboat  ;  if  you  did  but  look 
hard  at  him,  he  would  throw  himself  upon  his 
back,  and  lift  up  his  legs,  as  if  imploring  mercy. 

At  table  he  took  his  seat  a  little  distance  from 
his  master  ;  not  with  the  bluff,  confident  air  of 
the  mastiff,  but  quietly  and  diffidently,  his  head 
on  one  side,  with  one  ear  dubiously  slouched,  the 
other  hopefully  cocked  up  ;  his  under  teeth  pro- 
jecting beyond  his  black  nose,  and  his  eye  wist- 
fully following  each  morsel  that  went  into  his 
master's  mouth. 

If  Compere  Martin  now  and  then  should  venture 
to  abstract  a  morsel  from  his  plate  to  give  to  his 
humble  companion,  it  was  edifying  to  see  with 
what  diffidence  the  exemplary  little  animal  would 
take  hold  of  it,  with  the  very  tip  of  his  teeth,  as  if 
he  would  almost  rather  not,  or  was  fearful  of 
taking  too  great  a  liberty.  And  then  with  what 
decorum  would  he  eat  it  !  How  many  efforts 
would  he  make  in  swallowing  it,  as  if  it  stuck  in 
his  throat  ;  with  what  daintiness  would  he  lick  his 
lips  ;  and  then  with  what  an  air  of  thankfulness 
would  he  resume  his  seat,  with  his  teeth  once 
more  projecting  beyond  his  nose,  and  an  eye  of 
humble  expectation  fixed  upon  his  master. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  steamboat 
stopped  at  the  village  which  was  the  residence  of 
these  worthies.  It  stood  on  the  high  bank  of  the 
river,  and  bore  traces  of  having  been  a  frontier 
trading  post.  There  were  the  remains  of  stock- 
ades that  once  protected  it  from  the  Indians,  and 
the  houses  were  in  the  ancient  Spanish  and 
French  colonial  taste,  the  place  having  been  suc- 
cessively under  the  domination  of  both  those  na- 
tions prior  to  the  cession  of  Louisiana  to  the 
United  States. 

The  arrival  of  the  seigneur  of  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  his  humble  companion,  Compere  Mar- 
tin, had  evidently  been  looked  forward  to  as  an 
event  in  the  village.  Numbers  of  men,  women, 
and  children,  white,  yellow,  and  black,  were  col- 
lected on  the  river  bank  ;  most  of  them  clad  in 
old-fashioned  French  garments,  and  their  heads 
decorated  with  colored  handkerchiefs,  or  white 
night-caps.  The  moment  the  steamboat  came 
within  sight  and  hearing,  there  was  a  waving  of 
handkerchiefs,  and  a  screaming  and  bawling  of 
salutations,  and  felicitations,  that  baffle  all  de- 
scription. 

The  old  gentleman  of  fifty  thousand  dollars  was 
received  by  a  train  of  relatives,  and  friends,  and 
children,  and  grandchildren,  whom  he  kissed  on 
each  cheek,  and  who  formed  a  procession  in  his 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


441 


rear,  \vith  a  legion  of  domestics,  of  all  ages,  fol- 
lowing him  to  a  large,  old-fashioned  French 
house,  that  domineered  over  the  village. 

His  black  valet  de  chambre,  in  white  jacket  and 
trousers,  and  gold  ear-rings,  was  met  on  the 
shore  by  a  boon,  though  rustic  companion,  a  tall 
negro  fellow,  with  a  long  good-humored  face,  and 
the  profile  of  a  horse,  which  stood  out  from  be- 
neath a  narrow-rimmed  straw  hat,  stuck  on  the 
back  of  his  head.  The  explosions  of  laughter,  of 
these  two  varlets  on  meeting  and  exchanging 
compliments,  were  enough  to  electrify  the  country 
round. 

The  most  hearty  reception,  however,  was  that 
given  to  Compere  Martin.  Everybody,  young 
and  old,  hailed  him  before  he  got  to  land.  Every- 
body had  a  joke  for  Compere  Martin,  and  Com- 
pere Martin  had  a  joke  for  everybody.  Even  his 
little  dog  appeared,  to  partake  of  his  popularity, 
and  to  be  caressed  by  every  hand.  Indeed,  he  was 
quite  a  different  animal  the  moment  he  touched 
the  land.  Here  he  was  at  home  ;  here  he  was  of 
consequence.  He  barked,  he  leaped,  he  frisked 
about  his  old  friends,  and  then  would  skim  round 
the  place  in  a  wide  circle,  as  if  mad. 

I  traced  Compere  Martin  and  his  little  dog  to 
their  home.  It  was  an  old  ruinous  Spanish  house, 
of  large  dimensions,  with  verandas  overshadowed 
by  ancient  elms.  The  house  had  probably  been 
the  residence,  in  old  times,  of  the  Spanish  com- 
mandant. In  one  wing  of  this  crazy,  but  aristo- 
cratical  abode,  was  nestled  the  family  of  my  fel- 
low-traveller ;  for  poor  devils  are  apt  to  be  mag- 
nificently clad  and  lodged,  in  the  cast-off  clothes 
and  abandoned  palaces  of  the  great  and  wealthy. 

The  arrival  or  Compere  Martin  was  welcomed 
by  a  legion  of  women,  children,  and  mongrel 
curs  ;  and,  as  poverty  and  gayety  generally  go 
hand  in  hand  among  the  French  and  their  de- 
scendants, the  crazy  mansion  soon  resounded 
with  loud  gossip  and  light-hearted  laughter. 

As  the  steamboat  paused  a  short  time  at  the  vil- 
lage, I  took  occasion  to  stroll  about  the  place. 
Most  of  the  houses  were  in  the  French  taste,  with 
casements  and  rickety  verandas,  but  most  of 
them  in  flimsy  and  ruinous  condition.  All  the 
'wagons,  ploughs,  and  other  utensils  about  the 
place  were  of  ancient  and  inconvenient  Gallic 
construction,  such  as  had  been  brought  from 
France  in  the  primitive  days  of  the  colony.  The 
very  looks  of  the  people  reminded  me  of  the  vil- 
lages of  France. 

From  one  of  the  houses  came  the  hum  of  a  spin- 
ning wheel,  accompanied  by  a  scrap  of  an  old 
French  chanson,  which  I  have  heard  many  a  time 
among  the  peasantry  of  Languedoc,  doubtless  a 
traditional  song,  brought  over  by  the  first  French 
emigrants,  and  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation. 

Half  a  dozen  young  lasses  emerged  from  the 
adjacent  dwellings,  reminding  me,  by  their  light 
step  and  gay  costume,  of  scenes  in  ancient  France, 
where  taste  in  dress  comes  natural  to  every  class 
of  females.  The  trim  bodice  and  covered  petti- 
coat, and  little  apron,  with  its  pockets  to  receive 
the  hands  when  in  an  attitude  for  conversation  ; 
the  colored  kerchief  wound  tastefully  round  the 
head,  with  a  coquettish  knot  perking  above  one 
ear  ;  and  the  neat  slipper  and  tight  drawn  stock- 
ing with  its  braid  of  narrow  ribbon  embracing  the 
ankle  where  it  peeps  from  its  mysterious  curtain. 
It  is  from  this  ambush  that  Cupid  sends  his  most 
inciting  arrows. 

While  I  was  musing  upon  the  recollections  thus 
accidentally  summoned  up,  I  heard  the  sound  of 


a  fiddle  from  the  mansion  of  Compere  Martin,  the 
signal,  no  doubt  for  a  joyous  gathering.  I  was 
disposed  to  turn  my  steps  thither,  and  witness  the 
festivities  of  one  of  the  very  few  villages  I  had 
met  with  in  my  wide  tour,  that  was  yet  poor 
enough  to  be  merry  ;  but  the  bell  of  the  steam- 
boat summoned  me  to  re-embark. 

As  we  swept  away  from  the  shore,  I  cast  back 
a  wistful  eye  upon  the  moss-grown  roofs  and  an- 
cient elms  of  the  village,  and  prayed  that  the  in- 
habitants might  long  retain  their  happy  igno- 
rance, their  absence  of  all  enterprise  and  improve- 
ment, their  respect  for  the  fiddle,  and  their  con- 
tempt for  the  almighty  dollar.*  I  fear,  however, 
my  prayer  is  doomed  to  be  of  no  avail.  In  a  lit- 
tle while  the  steamboat  whirled  me  to  an  Ameri- 
can town,  just  springing  into  bustling  and  pros- 
perous existence. 

The  surrounding  forest  had  been  laid  out  in 
town  lots  ;  frames  of  wooden  buildings  were  ris- 
ing from  among  stumps  and  burnt  trees.  The 
place  already  boasted  a  court-house,  a  jail,  and 
two  banks,  all  built  of  pine  boards,  on  the  model 
of  Grecian  temples.  There  were  rival  hotels,  rival 
churches,  and  rival  newspapers  ;  together  with 
the  usual,  number  of  judges,  and  generals,  and 
governors  ;  not  to  speak  of  doctors  by  the  dozen, 
and  lawyers  by  the  score. 

The  place,  I  was  told,  was  in  an  astonishing 
career  of  improvement,  with  a  canal  and  two  rail- 
roads in  embryo.  Lots  doubled  in  price  every 
week  ;  every  body  was  speculating  in  land  ;  every 
body  was  rich  ;  and  every  body  was  growing 
richer.  The  community,  however,  was  torn  to 
pieces  by  new  doctrines  in  religion  and  in  politi- 
cal economy  ;  there  were  camp  meetings,  and 
agrarian  meetings  ;  and  an  election  was  at  hand, 
which,  it  was  expected,  would  throw  the  whole 
country  into  a  paroxysm. 

Alas  !  with  such  an  enterprising  neighbor  what 
is  to  become  of  the  poor  little  creole  village  ! 


A  CONTENTED  MAN, 

IN  the  garden  of  the  Tuileries  there  is  a  sunny 
corner  under  the  wall  of  a  terrace  which  fronts  the 
south.  Along  the  wall  is  a  range  of  benches  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  walks  and  avenues  of  the 
garden.  This  genial  nook  is  a  place  of  great  re- 
sort in  the  latter  part  of  autumn  and  in  fine  days 
in  winter,  as  it  seems  to  retain  the  flavor  of  de- 
parted summer.  On  a  calm,  bright  morning  it  is 
quite  alive  with  nursery-maids  and  their  playful 
little  charges.  Hither  also  resort  a  number  of  an- 
cient ladies  and  gentlemen,  who,  with  the  laudable 
thrift  in  small  pleasures  and  small  expenses  for 
which  the  French  are  to  be  noted,  come  here  to 
enjoy  sunshine  and  save  firewood.  Here  may 
often  be  seen  some  cavalier  of  the  old  school, 
when  the  sunbeams  have  warmed  his  blood  into 
something  like  a  glow,  fluttering  about  like  a 
frost-bitten  moth  thawed  before  the  fire,  putting 
forth  a  feeble  show  of  gallantry  among  the  anti- 
quated dames,  and  now  and  then  eyeing  the 


*  This  phrase,  used  for  the  first  time  in  this  sketch, 
has  since  passed  into  current  circulation,  and  by 
some  has  been  questioned  as  savoring  of  irreverence. 
The  author,  therefore,  owes  it  to  his  orthodoxy  to 
declare  that  no  irreverence  was  intended  even  to  the 
dollar  itself ;  which  he  is  aware  is  daily  becoming  more 
and  more  an  object  of  worship. 


443 


THE    CRAYON    PAPERS. 


buxom  nursery-maids  with  what  might  almost  be 
mistaken  for  an  air  of  libertinism. 

Among  the  habitual  frequenters  of  this  place  I 
had  often  remarked  an  old  gentleman,  whose 
dress  was  decidedly  anti-revolutional.  He  wore 
the  three-cornered  cocked  hat  of  the  ancien 
regime  ;  his  hair  was  frizzed  over  each  ear  into 
ailes  de  pigeon,  a  style  strongly  savoring  of  Bour- 
bonism  ;  and  a  queue  stuck  out  behind,  the  loyalty 
of  which  was  not  to  be  disputed.  His  dress, 
though  ancient,  had  an  air  of  decayed  gentility, 
and  I  observed  that  he  took  his  snuff  out  of  an 
elegant  though  old-fashioned  gold  box.  He  ap- 
peared to  be  the  most  popular  man  on  the  walk. 
He  had  a  compliment  for  every  old  lady,  he  kissed 
every  child,  and  he  patted  every  little  dog  on  the 
head  ;  for  children  and  little  dogs  are  very  im- 
portant members  of  society  in  France.  I  must  ob- 
serve, however,  that  he  seldom  kissed  a  child 
without,  at  the  same  time,  pinching  the  nursery- 
maid's cheek  ;  a  Frenchman  of  the  old  school 
never  forgets  his  devoirs  to  the  sex. 

I  had  taken  a  liking  to  this  old  gentleman.  There 
was  an  habitual  expression  of  benevolence  in  his 
face  which  I  have  very  frequently  remarked  in 
these  relics  of  the  politer  days  of  France.  The 
constant  interchange  of  those  thousand  little 
courtesies  which  imperceptibly  sweeten  life  have 
a  happy  effect  upon  the  features,  and  spread  a 
mellow  evening  charm  over  the  wrinkles  of  old 
age. 

Where  there  is  a  favorable  predisposition  one 
Soon  forms  a  kind  of  tacit  intimacy  by  often  meet- 
ing on  the  same  walks.  Once  or  twice  I  accom- 
modated him  with  a  bench,  after  which  we 
touched  hats  on  passing  each  other  ;  at  length  we 
got  so  far  as  to  take  a  pinch  of  snuff  together  out 
of  his  box,  which  is  equivalent  to  eating  salt  to- 
gether in  the  East  ;  from  that  time  our  acquaint- 
ance was  established. 

I  now  became  his  frequent  companion  in  his 
morning  promenades,  and  derived,  much  amuse- 
ment from  his  good-humored  remarks  on  men 
and  manners.  One  morning,  as  we  were  strolling 
through  an  alley  of  the  Tuileries,  with  the  autum- 
nal breeze  whirling  the  yellow  leaves  about  our 
path,  my  companion  fell  into  a  peculiarly  com- 
municative vein,  and  gave  me  several  particulars 
of  his  history.  He  had  once  been  wealthy,  and 
possessed  of  a  fine  estate  in  the  country  and  a 
noble  hotel  in  Paris  ;  but  the  revolution,  which 
effected  so  many  disastrous  changes,  stripped 
him  of  everything.  He  was  secretly  denounced 
by  his  own  steward  during  a  sanguinary  period 
of  the  revolution,  and  a  number  of  the  blood- 
hounds of  the  Convention  were  sent  to  arrest  him. 
He  received  private  intelligence  of  their  approach 
in  time  to  effect  his  escape.  He  landed  in  Eng- 
land without  money  or  friends,  but  considered 
himself  singularly  fortunate  in  having  his  head 
upon  his  shoulders  ;  several  of  his  neighbors 
having  been  guillotined  as  a  punishment  for  being 
rich. 

When  he  reached  London  he  had  but  a  louis  in 
his  pocket,  and  no  prospect  of  getting  another. 
He  ate  a  solitary  dinner  of  beefsteak,  and  was 
almost  poisoned  by  port  wine,  which  from  its 
color  he  had  mistaken  for  claret.  The  dingy  look 
of  the  chop-house,  and  of  the  little  mahogany-col- 
ored box  in  which  he  late  his  dinner,  contrasted 
sadly  with  the  gay  saloons  of  Paris.  Everything 
looked  gloomy  and  disheartening.  Poverty  stared 
him  in  the  face  ;  he  turned  over  the  few  shillings 
he  had  of  change  ;  did  not  know  what  was  to  be- 
come of  him  ;  and — went  to  the  theatre  ! 


He  took  his  seat  in  the  pit,  listened  attentively 
to  a  tragedy  of  which  he  did  not  understand  a 
word,  and  which  seemed  made  up  of  fighting, 
and  stabbing,  and  scene-shifting,  and  began  to 
feel  his  spirits  sinking  within  him  ;  when,  casting 
his  eyes  into  the  orchestra,  what  was  his  surprise 
to  recognize  an  old  friend  and  neighbor  in  the 
very  act  of  extorting  music  from  a  huge  violon- 
cello. 

As  soon  as  the  evening's  performance  was  over 
he  tapped  his  friend  on  the  shoulder  ;  they  kissed 
each  other  on  each  cheek,  and  the  musician  took 
him  home,  and  shared  his  lodgings  with  him.  He 
had  learned  music  as  an  accomplishment  ;  by  his 
friend's  advice  he  now  turned  to  it  as  a  means  of 
support.  He  procured  a  violin,  offered  himself 
for  the  orchestra,  was  received,  and  again  consid- 
ered himself  one  of  the  most  fortunate  men  upon 
earth. 

Here  therefore  he  lived  for  many  years  during 
the  ascendency  of  the  terrible  Napoleon.  He 
found  several  emigrants  living,  like  himself,  by  the 
exercise  of  their  talents.  They  associated  to- 
gether, talked  of  France  and  of  old  times,  and  en- 
deavored to  keep  up  a  semblance  of  Parisian  life 
in  the  centre  of  London. 

They  dined  at  a  miserable  cheap  French  res- 
taurant in  the  neighborhood  of  Leicester-square, 
where  they  were  served  with  a  caricature  of 
French  cookery.  They  took  their  promenade  in 
St.  James's  Park,  and  endeavored  to  fancy  it  the 
Tuileries  ;  in  short,  they  made  shift  to  accommo- 
date themselves  to  everything  but  an  English 
Sunday.  Indeed  the  old  gentleman  seemed  to 
have  nothing  to  say  against  the  English,  whom 
he  affirmed  to  be  braves  gens  ;  and  he  mingled 
so  much  among  them  that  at  the  end  oi  twenty 
years  he  could  speak  their  language  almost  well 
enough  to  be  understood. 

The  downfall  of  Napoleon  was  another  epoch 
in  his  life.  He  had  considered  himself  a  fortu- 
nate man  to  make  his  escape  penniless  out  of 
France,  and  he  considered  himself  fortunate  to  be 
able  to  return  penniless  into  it.  It  is  true  that  he 
found  his  Parisian  hotel  had  passed  through  sev- 
eral hands  during  the  vicissitudes  of  the  times,  so 
as  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  recovery  ;  but  then 
he  had  been  noticed  benignantly  by  government, 
and  had  a  pension  of  several  hundred  francs, 
upon  which,  with  careful  management,  he  lived 
independently,  and,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  hap- 
pily. 

As  his  once  plendid  hotel  was  now  occupied  as 
a  hotel  garni,  he  hired  a  small  chamber  in  the  at- 
tic ;  it  was  but,  as  he  said,  changing  his  bedroom 
up  two  pair  of  stairs — he  was  still  in  his  own 
house.  His  room  was  decorated  with  pictures  of 
several  beauties  of  iormer  times,  with  whom  he 
professed  to  have  been  on  favorable  terms  : 
among  them  was  a  favorite  opera-dancer,  who 
had  been  the  admiration  of  Paris  at  the  breaking 
out  of  the  revolution.  She  had  been  a  protegee  of 
my  friend,  and  one  of  the  few  of  his  youthful  fa- 
vorites who  had  survived  the  lapse  of  time  and  its 
various  viccisitudes.  They  had  renewed  their  ac- 
quaintance, and  she  now  and  then  visited  him  ; 
but  the  beautiful  Psyche,  once  the  fashion  of  the 
clay  and  the  idol  of  the  parterre,  was  now  a 
shrivelled,  little  old  woman,  warped  in  the  back, 
and  with  a  hooked  nose. 

The  old  gentleman  was  a  devout  attendant  upon 

levies  ;  he  was  most  zealous  in  his  loyalty,  and 

could    not  speak  of  the  royal  family  without  a 

burst  of  enthusiasm,  for  he  still  felt  towards  them 

I  as  his   companions  in  exile.     As  to  his  poverty 


THE   CRAYON    PAPERS. 


443 


he  made  light  of  it,  and  indeed  had  a  good-hu- 
mored way  of  consoling  himself  for  every  cross 
and  privation.  If  he  had  lose  his  chateau  in  the 
country,  he  had  half  a  dozen  royal  palaces,  as  it 
were,  at  his  command.  He  had  Versailles  and 
St.  Cloud  for  his  country  resorts,  and  the  shady 
alleys  of  the  Tuileries  and  the  Luxembourg  for  his 
town  recreation.  Thus  all  his  promenades  and 
relaxations  were  magnificent,  yet  cost  noth- 
ing. 

When  I  walk  through  these  fine  gardens,  said 
he,  I  have  only  to  fancy  myself  the  owner  of 
them,  and  they  are  mine.  All  these  gay  crowds 
are  my  visitors,  and  I  defy  the  grand  seignior 
himself  to  display  a  greater  variety  of  beauty. 
Nay,  what  is  better,  I  have  not  the  trouble  of  en- 
tertaining them.  My  estate  is  a  perfect  Sans 
Souci,  where  every  one  does  as  he  pleases,  and 
no  one  troubles  the  owner.  All  Paris  is  my  the- 
atre, and  presents  me  with  a  continual  spectacle. 
I  have  a  table  spread  for  me  in  every  street,  and 
thousands  of  waiters  ready  to  fly  at  my  bidding. 
When  my  servants  have  waited  upon  me  I  pay 
them,  discharge  them,  and  there's  an  end  ;  I 
have  no  fears  of  their  wronging  or  pilfering  me 
when  my  back  is  turned.  Upon  the  whole,  said 
the  old  gentleman  with  a  smile  of  infinite  good 
humor,  when  I  think  upon  the  various  risks  I  have 
run,  and  the  manner  in  which  I  have  escaped 
them  ;  when  I  recollect  all  that  I  have  suffered, 
and  consider  all  that  I  at  present  enjoy,  I  can- 
not but  look  upon  myself  as  a  man  of  singular 
good  fortune. 

Such  was  the  brief  history  of  this  practical 
philosopher,  and  it  is  a  picture  of  many  a  French- 
man ruined  by  the  revolution.  The  French  ap- 
pear to  have  a  greater  facility  than  most  men  in 
accommodating  themselves  to  the  reverses  of  life, 
and  of  extracting  honey  out  of  the  bitter  things  of 
this  world.  The  first  shock  of  calamity  is  apt  to 
overwhelm  them,  but  when  it  is  once  past,  their 
natural  buoyancy  of  feeling  soon  brings  them  to 
the  surface.  This  may  be  called  the  result  of  lev- 


ity of  character,  but  it  answers  the  end  of  recon- 
ciling us  to  misfortune,  and  if  it  be  not  true  phi- 
losophy, it  is  something  almost  as  efficacious. 
Ever  since  I  have  heard  the  story  of  my  little 
Frenchman,  I  have  treasured  it  up  in  my  heart  ; 
and  I  thank  my  stars  I  have  at  length  found  what 
I  had  long  considered  as  not  to  be  found  on  earth 
— a  contented  man. 

P.S.  There  is  no  calculating  on  human  happi- 
ness. Since  writing  the  foregoing,  the  law  of  in- 
demnity has  been  passed,  and  my  friend  restored 
to  a  great  part  of  his  fortune.  I  was  absent  from 
Paris  at  the  time,  but  on  my  return  hastened  to 
congratulate  him.  I  found  him  magnificently 
lodged  on  the  first  floor  of  his  hctek  I  was 
ushered,  by  a  servant  in  livery,  through  splendid 
saloons,  to  a  cabinet  richly  furnished,  where  I 
found  my  little  Frenchman  reclining  on  a  couch, 
He  received  me  with  his  usual  cordiality  ;  but  I 
saw  the  gayety  and  benevolence  ot  his  counte- 
nance had  fled  ;  he  had  an  eye  full  of  care  and 
anxiety. 

I  congratulated  him  on  his  good  fortune. 
"Good  fortune?"  echoed  he;  "bah!  I  have 
been  plundered  of  a  princely  fortune,  and  they 
give  me  a  pittance  as  an  indemnity." 

Alas  !  I  found  my  late  poor  and  contented 
friend  one  of  the  richest  and  most  miserable  men 
in  Paris.  Instead  of  rejoicing  in  the  ample  com- 
petency restored  to  him,  he  is  daily  repining  at 
the  superfluity  withheld.  He  no  longer  wanders 
in  happy  idleness  about  Paris,  but  is  a  repining 
attendant  in  the  ante-chambers  of  ministers.  His 
loyalty  has  evaporated  with  his  gayety  ;  he 
screws  his  mouth  when  the  Bourbons  are  men- 
tioned, and  even  shrugs  his  shoulders  when  he 
hears  the  praises  of  the  king.  In  a  word,  he  is 
one  of  the  many  philosophers  undone  by  the  law 
of  indemnity,  and  his  case  is  desperate,  for  I 
doubt  whether  even  another  reverse  of  fortune, 
which  should  restore  him  to  poverty,  could  make 
him  again  a  happy  man. 


MOORISH    CHRONICLES. 


WASHINGTON   IRVING. 


CHRONICLE    OF    FERNAN    GONZALEZ, 


COUNT   OF    CASTILE. 


INTRODUCTION. 

AT  the  time  of  the  general  wreck  of  Spain  by  the  sud- 
den tempest  of  Arab  invasion,  many  of  the  inhabitants 
took  refuge  in  the  mountains  of  the  Asturias,  burying 
themselves  in  narrow  valleys  difficult  of  access,  wher- 
ever a  constant  stream  of  water  afforded  a  green  bosom 
of  pasture-land  and  scanty  fields  for  cultivation.  For 
mutual  protection  they  gathered  together  in  small  vil- 
lages called  castros,  or  castrellos,  with  watch-towers 
and  fortresses  on  impending  cliffs,  in  which  they  might 
shelter  and  defend  themselves  in  case  of  sudden  inroad. 
Thus  arose  the  kingdom  of  the 'Asturias,  subject  to 
Pelayo  and  the  kings  his  successors,  who  gradually  ex- 
tended their  dominions,  built  towns  and  cities,  and 
after  a  time  fixed  their  seat  of  government  at  the  city 
of  Leon. 

An  important  part  of  the  region  over  which  they  bore 
sway  was  ancient  Cantabria,  extending  from  the  Bay 
of  Biscay  to  the  Duero,  and  called  Castile  from  the 
number  of  castles  with  which  it  was  studded.  They 
divided  it  into  seigniories,  over  which  they  placed  civil 
and  military  governors  called  counts — a  title  said  to  be 
derived  from  the  Latin  conies,  a  companion,  the  person 
enjoying  it  being  admitted  to  the  familiar  companion- 
ship of  the  king,  entering  into  his  councils  in  time 
of  peace,  and  accompanying  him  to  the  field  in  time 
of  war.  The  title  of  count  was  therefore  more  dig- 
nified than  that  of  duke  in  the  time  of  the  Gothic 
kings. 

The  power  of  these  counts  increased  to  such  a  degree 
that  four  of  them  formed  a  league  to  declare  themselves 
independent  of  the  crown  of  Leon.  Ordono  II.,  who 
was  then  king,  received  notice  of  it,  and  got  them  into 
his  power  by  force,  as  some  assert,  but  as  others  main- 
tain, by  perfidious  artifice.  At  any  rate,  they  were 
brought  to  court,  convicted  of  treason,  and  pub- 
licly beheaded.  The  Castilians  flew  to  arms  to  re- 
venge their  deaths.  Ordono  took  the  field  with  a 
powerful  army,  but  his  own  death  defeated  all  his 
plans. 

The  Castilians  now  threw  off  allegiance  to  the  king- 
dom of  Leon,  and  elected  two  judges  to  rule  over  them 
— one  in  a  civil,  the  other  in  a  military  capacity.  The 
first  who  filled  those  stations  were  Nuno  Rasura  and 
Lain  Calvo,  two  powerful  nobles,  the  former  descended 
from  Diego  Porcello,  a  count  of  Lara ;  the  latter,  an- 
cestor of  the  renowned  Cid  Campeador. 

Nuno  Rasura,  the  civil  and  political  judge,  was  suc- 
ceeded by  his  son  Gonzalez  Nuno,  who  married  Dona 
Ximena,  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  counts  of  Castile  put 
to  death  by  Ordona  II.  From  this  marriage  came 
Fernan  Gonzalez,  the  subject  of  the  following  chron- 
icle. 

VOL.  IV. 


CHAPTER  I. 

INSTALLATION  OF  FERNAN  GONZALEZ  AS  COUNT 
OF  CASTILE. — HIS  FIRST  CAMPAIGN  AGAINST 
THE  MOORS. — VICTORY  OF  SAN  QUIRCE. — 
HOW  THE  COUNT  DISPOSED  OF  THE  SPOILS. 

THE  renowned  Fernan  Gonzalez,  the  most  com- 
plete hero  of  his  time,  was  born  about  the  year 
887.  Historians  trace  his  descent  to  Nuno  Bel- 
chidez,  nephew  of  the  Emperor  Charlemagne, 
and  Dona  Sula  Bella,  granddaughter  to  the 
Prince  Don  Sancho,  rightful  sovereign  of  Spain, 
but  superseded  by  Roderick,  the  last  of  the 
Gothic  kings. 

Fernan  Gonzalez  was  hardily  educated  among 
the  mountains  in  a  strong  place  called  Maron,  in 
the  house  of  Martin  Gonzalez,  a  gallant  and 
veteran  cavalier.  From  his  earliest  years  he  was 
inured  to  all  kinds  of  toils  and  perils,  taught  to 
hunt,  to  hawk,  to  ride  the  great  horse,  to  manage 
sword,  lance,  and  buckler ;  in  a  word,  he  was 
accomplished  in  all  the  noble  exercises  befitting 
a  cavalier. 

His  father  Gonzalvo  Nufiez  died  in  903,  and 
his  elder  brother  Rodrigo  in  904,  without  issue ; 
and  such  was  the  admiration  already  entertained 
of  Fernan  Gonzalez  by  the  hardy  mountaineers 
and  old  Castilian  warriors,  that  though  scarce 
seventeen  years  of  age  he  was  unanimously 
elected  to  rule  over  them.  His  title  is  said  to 
have  been  Count,  Duke,  and  Consul,  under  the 
seigniory  of  Alonzo'the  Great,  King  of  Leon.  A 
cortes,  or  assemblage  of  the  nobility  and  chivalry 
of  Castile  and  of  the  mountains,  met  together  at 
the  recently  built  city  of  Burgos  to  do  honor  to 
his  installation.  Sebastian,  the  renowned  Bishop 
of  Oca,  officiated. 

In  those  stern  days  of  Spain,  the  situation  of 
a  sovereign  was  not  that  of  silken  ease  and  idle 
ceremonial.  When  he  put  the  rich  crown  upon 
his  head,  he  encircled  it  likewise  with  shining 
steel.  With  the  sceptre  were  united  the  lance 
and  shield,  emblems  of  perpetual  war  against  the 
enemies  of  the  faith.  The  cortes  took  this  occa- 
sion to  pass  the  following  laws  for  the  government 
of  the  realm  : — 

I.  Above  all  things  the  people  should  observe 
the  law  of  God,  the  canons  and  statutes  of  the 
holy  fathers,  the  liberty  and  privileges  of  the 
Church,  and  the  respect  due  to  its  ministers. 


446 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


2.  No  person  should  prosecute  another  out  of 
Castile  at  any  tribunal  of  justice  or  of  arms,  under 
pain  of  being  considered  a  stranger. 

3.  All  Jews  and  Moors  who  refused  to  acknowl- 
edge the  Christian  faith  should  depart  from  Cas- 
tile within  two  months. 

4.  That  cavaliers  of  noble  blood  should  treat 
their  tenants  and  vassals  with  love  and  gentle- 
ness. . 

5.  That  he  who  slew  another,  or  committed 
any    other    grave    offence,    should    make    equal 
measure  of  atonement. 

6.  That  no  one  should  take  the  property  of 
another ;  but,  if  oppressed  by  poverty,   should 
come  to  the  count,  who  ought  to  be  as  a  father 
to  all. 

7.  That  all  should  unite  and  be  of  one  heart, 
and  aid  one  another  in  defense  of  their  faith  and 
of  their  country. 

Such  were  the  ordinances  of  the  ancient  Cortes 
of  Burgos ;  brief  and  simple,  and  easy  to  be 
understood  ;  not,  as  at  the  present  day,  multi- 
farious and  perplexed,  to  the  confusion  and  ruin 
of  clients  and  the  enrichment  of  lawyers. 

Scarce  was  the-  installation  ended,  and  while 
Burgos  was  yet  abandoned  to  festivity,  the  young 
count,  with  the  impatient  ardor  of  youth,  caused 
the  trumpets  to  sound  through  the  streets  a  call 
to  arms.  A  captain  of  the  Moorish  king  of 
Toledo  was  ravaging  the  territory  of  Castile  at 
the  head  of  seven  thousand  troops,  and  against 
him  the  youthful  count  determined  to  make  his 
first  campaign.  In  the  spur  of  the  moment  but 
one  hundred  horsemen  and  fifteen  hundred  foot- 
soldiers  could  be  collected  ;  but  with  this  slender 
force  the  count  prepared  to  take  the  field.  Ruy 
Velazquez,  a  valiant  cavalier,  remonstrated  against 
such  rashness,  but  in  vain.  "  I  owe,"  said  the 
count,  "  a  death  to  the  grave  ;  the  debt  can  never 
be  paid  so  honorably  as  in  the  service  of  God 
and  my  country.  Let  every  one,  therefore,  ad- 
dress himself  heart  and  hand  to  this  enterprise  ; 
for  if  I  come  face  to  face  with  this  Moor,  I  will 
most  assuredly  give  him  battle."  So  saying,  he 
knelt  before  Bishop  Sebastian  of  Salamanca  and 
craved  his  benediction.  The  reverend  prelate 
invoked  on  his  head  the  blessing  and  protection 
of  Heaven,  for  his  heart  yearned  toward  him  ; 
but  when  he  saw  the  youthful  warrior  about  to 
depart,  he  kindled  as  it  were  with  a  holy  martial 
fire,  and  ordering  his  steed  to  be  saddled  he  sal- 
lied forth  with  him  to  the  wars. 

The  little  army  soon  came  upon  traces  of  the 
enemy  in  fields  laid  waste,  and  the  smoking  ruins 
of  villages  and  hamlets.  The  count  sent  out 
scouts  to  clamber  every  height  and  explore  every 
defile.  From  the  summit  of  a  hill  they  beheld 
the  Moors  encamped  in  a  valley  which  was 
covered  with  the  flocks  and  herds  swept  from  the 
neighboring  country.  The  camp  of  the  marauders 
was  formidable  as  to  numbers,  with  various 
standards  floating  in  the  breeze  ;  for  in  this  foray 
were  engaged  the  Moorish  chiefs  of  Saragossa, 
Denia,  and  Seville,  together  with  many  valiant 
Moslems  who  had  crossed  the  straits  from  Africa 
to  share  in  what  they  considered  a  holy  enter- 
prise. The  scouts  observed,  however,  that  the 
most  negligent  security  reigned  throughout  the 
camp  ;  some  reposing,  others  feasting  and  revel- 
ling, all  evidently  considering  themselves  safe 
from  any  attack. 

Upon  hearing  this  the  count  led  his  men 
secretly  and  silently  to  the  assault,  and  came 
upon  the  Moors  in  the  midst  of  their  revelry, 
before  they  had  time  to  buckle  on  their  armor. 


The  infidels,  however,  made  a  brave  though  con" 
fused  resistance  ;  the  camp  was  strewn  with  their 
dead ;  many  were  taken  prisoners,  and  the  rest 
began  to  falter.  The  count  killed  their  captain- 
general  with  his  own  hand,  in  single  fight,  as  he 
was  bravely  rallying  his  troops.  Upon  seeing 
him  fall,  the  Moors  threw  down  their  weapons 
and  fled. 

Immense  booty  was  found  in  the  Moorish  camp, 
— partly  the  rich  arms  and  equipments  of  the  in- 
fidel warriors,  partly  the  plunder  of  the  country. 
An  ordinary  victor  would  have  merely  shared  the 
spoils  with  his  soldiery,  but  the  count  was  as 
pious  as  he  was  brave,  and,  moreover,  had  by  his 
side  the  venerable  Bishop  of  Salamanca  as  coun- 
sellor. Contenting  himself,  therefore,  with  dis- 
tributing one-third  among  his  soldiery,  he  shared 
the  rest  with  God,  devoting  a  large  part  to  the 
Church,  and  to  the  relief  of  souls  in  purgatory — 
a  pious  custom,  which  he  ever  after  observed. 
He  moreover  founded  a  church  on  the  field  of 
battle,  dedicated  to  St.  Quirce,  on  whose  festival 
(the  i6th  July)  this  victory  was  obtained.  To 
this  church  was  subsequently  added  a  monastery 
where  a  worthy  fraternity  of  monks  were  main- 
tained in  the  odor  of  sanctity,  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  this  victory.  All  this  was  doubtless 
owing  to  the  providential  presence  of  the  good 
bishop  on  this  occasion  ;  and  this  is  one  instance 
of  the  great  benefit  derived  from  those  priests 
and  monks  and  other  purveyors  of  the  Church, 
who  hovered  about  the  Christian  camps  through- 
out all  these  wars  with  the  infidels. 


CHAPTER  II. 

OF  THE  SALLY  FROM  BURGOS  AND  SURPRISE  OF 
THE  CASTLE  OF  LARA. — CAPITULATION  OF 
THE  TOWN. — VISIT  TO  ALFONSO  THE  GREAT, 
KING  OF  LEON. 

COUNT  FERNAN  GONZALEZ  did  not  remain 
idle  after  the  victory  of  San  Quirce.  There  was 
at  this  time  an  old  castle,  strong  but  much  bat- 
tered in  the  wars,  which  protected  a  small  town, 
the  remains  of  the  once  flourishing  city  of  Lara. 
It  was  the  ancient  domain  of  his  family,  but  was 
at  present  in  possession  of  the  Moors.  In  sooth 
it  had  repeatedly  been  taken  and  retaken  ;  for  in 
those  iron  days  no  castle  nor  fortress  remained 
long  under  the  same  masters.  One  year  it  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Christians,  the  next,  of  the 
Moors.  Some  of  these  castles,  with  their  de- 
pendent towns,  were  sacked,  burnt,  and  de- 
molished ;  others  remained  silent  and  deserted, 
their  original  owners  fearing  to  reside  in  them  ; 
and  their  ruined  towers  were  only  tenanted  by 
bats  and  owls  and  screaming  birds  of  prey. 
Lara  had  lain  for  a  time  in  ruins  after  being 
captured  by  the  Moors,  but  had  been  rebuilt  by 
them  with  diminished  grandeur,  and  they  held  a 
strong  garrison  in  the  castle,  whence  they  sallied 
forth  occasionally  to  ravage  the  lands  of  the 
Christians.  The  Moorish  chieftain  of  Lara,  as 
has  been  observed,  was  among  the  associated 
marauders  who  had  been  routed  in  the  battle  of 
San  Quirce ;  and  the  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez 
thought  this  a  favorable  time  to  strike  for  the  re- 
covery of  his  family  domain,  now  that  the  infidel 
possessor  was  weakened  by  defeat  and  could  re- 
ceive no  succor. 

Appointing  Rodrigo  Velasquez  and  the  Count 
Don  Vela  Alvarez  to  act  as  governors  of  Castile 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


447 


during  his  absence,  the  count  sallied  forth  from 
Burgos  with  a  brilliant  train  of  chivalry.  Among 
the  distinguished  cavaliers  who  attended  him 
were  Martin  Gonzalez,  Don  Gustios  Gonzalez, 
Don  Velasco,  and  Don  Lope  de  Biscaya,  which 
last  brought  a  goodly  train  of  stout  Biscayans. 
The  alfarez,  or  standard-bearer,  was  Orbita  Ve- 
lasquez, who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the  bat- 
tle of  San  Quirce.  He  bore  as  a  standard  a  great 
cross  of  silver,  which  shone  gloriously  in  front  of 
the  host,  and  is  preserved,  even  to  the  present 
day,  in  the  church  of  San  Pedro  de  Arlanza. 
One  hundred  and  fifty  noble  cavaliers,  well  armed 
and  mounted,  with  many  esquires  and  pages  of 
the  lance,  and  three  thousand  foot-soldiers,  all 
picked  men,  formed  this  small  but  stout-hearted 
army. 

The  count  led  his  troops  with  such  caution 
that  they  arrived  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lara 
without  being  discovered.  It  was  the  vigil  of  St. 
John ;  the  country  was  wrapped  in  evening 
shadows,  and  the  count  was  enabled  to  approach 
near  to  the  place  to  make  his  observations.  He 
perceived  that  his  force  was  too  inconsiderable  to 
invest  the  town  and  fortress.  Besides,  about  two 
leagues  distant  was  the  gaunt  and  rock-built  cas- 
tle of  Carazo,  a  presidio  or  stronghold  of  the 
Moors,  whence  he  might  be  attacked  in  the  rear, 
should  he  linger  before  the  fortress.  It  was  evi- 
dent, therefore,  that  whatever  was  to  be  affected 
must  be  done  promptly  and  by  sudden  surprise. 
Revolving  these  things  in  his  mind,  he  put  his 
troops  in  ambush  in  a  deep  ravine  where  they 
took  their  rest,  while  he  kept  watch  upon  the 
castle  ;  maturing  his  plans  against  the  morrow. 
In  this  way  he  passed  his  midsummer's  night,  the 
vigil  of  the  blessed  St.  John. 

The  festival  of  St.  John  is  observed  as  well  by 
Mahometans  as  Christians.  During  the  night  the 
bonfires  blazed  on  the  hill-tops  and  the  sound  of 
music  and  festivity  was  heard  from  within  the 
town.  When  the  rising  sun  shone  along  the  val- 
ley of  the  Arlanza,  the  Moors  in  the  castle,  un- 
suspicious of  any  lurking  danger,  threw  open  the 
gates  and  issued  forth  to  recreate  themselves  in 
the  green  fields  and  along  the  banks  of  the  river. 
When  they  had  proceeded  to  a  considerable  dis- 
tance, and  a  hill  shut  them  from  view,  the  count 
with  his  eager  followers  issued  silently  but  swiftly 
from  their  hiding-place  and  made  directly  for  the 
castle.  On  the  way  they  met  with  another  band 
of  Moors  who  had  likewise  come  forth  for  amuse- 
ment. The  count  struck  the  leader  to  the  earth 
with  one  blow  of  his  lance  ;  the  rest  were  either 
slain  or  taken  prisoners  ;  so  that  not  one  escaped 
to  give  the  alarm. 

Those  of  the  garrison  who  had  remained  in  the 
castle,  seeing  a  Christian  force  rushing  up  to  the 
very  walls,  hastened  to  close  the  gates,  but  it  was 
too  late.  The  count  and  his  cavaliers  burst  them 
open  and  put  every  one  to  the  sword  who  made 
opposition.  Leaving  Don  Velasco  and  a  number 
of  soldiers  to  guard  the  castle,  the  count  hastened 
with  the  rest  in  pursuit  of  the  Moors  who  were 
solemnizing  the  day  on  the  banks  of  the  Arlanza. 
Some  were  reclining  on  the  grass,  others  were 
amusing  themselves  with  music  and  the  popular 
dance  of  the  Zambra,  while  their  arms  lay  scat- 
tered among  the  herbage. 

At  sight  of  the  Christians,  they  snatched  up 
their  weapons  and  made  a  desperate  though  vain 
resistance.  Within  two  hours  almost  all  were 
either  slain  or  captured ;  a  few  escaped  to  the 
neighboring  mountains  of  Carazo.  The  town, 
seeing  the  castle  in  the  hands  of  the  Christians, 


and  the  garrison  routed  and  destroyed,  readily 
capitulated  ;  and  the  inhabitants  were  permitted 
to  retain  unmolested  possession  of  their  houses, 
on  agreeing  to  pay  to  the  count  the  same  tribute 
which  had  been  exacted  from  them  by  the  Moor- 
ish king.  Don  Velasco  was  left  alcaid  of  the 
fortress,  and  the  count  returned,  covered  with 
glory,  to  his  capital  of  Burgos. 

The  brilliant  victories  and  hardy  deeds  of  arms 
with  which  the  youthful  Count  of  Castile  had 
commenced  his  reign  excited  the  admiration  of 
Alfonso  the  Great,  King  of  Leon,  and  he  sent 
missives  urging  him  to  appear  at  his  royal  court. 
The  count  accordingly  set  forth  with  a  cavalcade 
of  his  most  approved  knights  and  many  of  his 
relatives,  sumptuously  armed  and  arrayed,  and 
mounted  on  steeds  richly  caparisoned.  It  was  a 
pageant  befitting  a  young  and  magnificent  chief, 
in  the  freshness  and  pleasance  of  his  years. 

The  king  came  out  of  the  city  to  meet  him,  at- 
tended by  all  the  pomp  and  grandeur  of  his  court. 
The  count  alighted,  and  approached  to  kiss  the 
king's  hand  ;  but  Alfonso  alighted  also,  and  em- 
braced him  with  great  affection,  and  the  friend- 
ship of  these  illustrious  princes  continued  without 
interruption  throughout  the  life  of  the  king. 


CHAPTER  III. 

EXPEDITION  AGAINST  THE  FORTRESS  OF  MUG- 
NON. — DESPERATE  DEFENCE  OF  THE  MOORS. 
— ENTERPRISE  AGAINST  CASTRO  XERIZ. 

MANY  are  the  doughty  achievements  recorded 
in  ancient  chronicles  of  this  most  valorous  cava- 
lier ;  among  others  is  his  expedition,  with  a 
chosen  band,  against  the  castle  of  Mugnon,  a 
place  of  great  importance,  which  stood  at  no 
great  distance  from  Burgos.  He  sallied  from  his 
capital  in  an  opposite  direction,  to  delude  the 
Moorish  scouts  ;  but  making  a  sudden  turn,  came 
upon  the  fortress  by  surprise,  broke  down  the 
gates,  and  forced  his  way  in  at  the  head  of  his 
troops,  having  nothing  but  a  dagger  in  his  hand, 
his  lance  and  sword  having  been  broken  in  the 
assault.  The  Moors  fought  desperately  from 
court  to  tower,  from  tower  to  wall ;  and  when 
they  saw  all  resistance  vain,  many  threw  them- 
selves from  the  battlements  into  the  ditch  rather 
than  be  made  captives.  Leaving  a  strong  gar- 
rison in  the  place,  the  count  returned  to  Burgos. 

His  next  enterprise  was  against  Castro  Xeriz, 
a  city  with  a  strong  castle,  which  had  been  a 
thorn  in  the  side  of  Castile — the  Moorish  garrison 
often  sweeping  the  roati.  between  Burgos  and 
Leon,  carrying  off  travellers,  capturing  cattle, 
and  plundering  convoys  of  provisions  and  mer- 
chandise. The  count  advanced  against  this  place 
in  open  day,  ravaging  the  country  and  announcing 
his  approach  by  clouds  of  smoke  from  the  burn- 
ing habitations  of  the  Moors.  Abdallah,  the  al- 
caid of  the  fortress,  would  have  made  peace,  but 
the  count  refused  all  terms.  "  God,"  said  he, 
"  has  appointed  me  to  rescue  his  holy  inheritance 
from  the  power  of  infidels  ;  nothing  is  to  be  ne- 
gotiated but  by  the  edge  of  the  sword." 

Abdallah  then  made  a  sally  with  a  chosen  band 
of  his  cavaliers.  They  at  first  careered  lightly 
with  their  Arabian  steeds  and  launched  their 
Moorish  darts,  but  the  Christians  closed  in  the 
old  Gothic  style,  fighting  hand  to  hand.  Abdal- 
lah fell  by  the  sword  of  the  count,  and  his  follow- 


448 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


ers  fled  with  loosened  reins  back  to  the  city.  The 
Christians  followed  hard  upon  them,  strewing  the 
ground  with  dead.  At  the  gate  of  the  city  they 
were  met  by  Almondir,  the  son  of  Abdallah,  who 
disputed  the  gateway  and  the  street  inch  by  inch, 
until  the  whole  place  ran  with  blood.  The  Moors, 
driven  from  the  streets,  took  refuge  in  the  castle, 
where  Almondir  inspirited  them  to  a  desperate 
defence,  until  a  stone  struck  him  as  he  stood  on 
the  battlements,  and  he  fell  to  the  earth  dead. 
Having  no  leader  to  direct  them,  the  Moors  sur- 
rendered. When  the  town  was  cleared  of  the 
dead  and  order  restored,  the  count  divided  the 
spoils — allotting  the  houses  among  his  followers, 
and  peopling  the  place  with  Christians.  He  gave 
the  command  of  it  to  Layn  Bermudez,  with  the 
title  of  count.  From  him  descended  an  illustri- 
ous line  of  cavaliers  termed  de  Castro,  whose 
male  line  became  extinct  in  Castile,  but  continued 
to  flourish  in  Portugal.  The  place  is  said  to 
have  been  called  Castro  Xeriz,  in  consequence  of 
the  blood  shed  in  this  conflict — xeriz,  in  the 
Arabic  language  signifying  bloody.  * 


CHAPTER   IV. 

HOW  THE  COUNT  OF  CASTILE  AND  THE  KING 
OF  LEON  MAKE  A  TRIUMPHANT  FORAY  INTO 
THE  MOORISH  COUNTRY. — CAPTURE  OF  SA- 
LAMANCA.— OF  THE  CHALLENGE  BROUGHT 
BY  THE  HERALD  AND  OF  THE  COUNT'S  DE- 
FIANCE. 

COUNT  FERNAN  GONZALEZ  was  restless,  dar- 
ing, and  impetuous  ;  he  seldom  suffered  lance  to 
rest  on  wall  or  steed  in  stable,  and  no  Moorish 
commander  could  sleep  in  quiet  who  held  town 
or  tower  in  his  neighborhood.  King  Alfonso  the 
Great  became  emulous  of  sharing  in  his  achieve- 
ments, and  they  made  a  campaign  together 
against  the  Moors.  The  count  brought  a  splen- 
did array  of  Castilian  chivalry  into  the  field,  to- 
gether with  a  host  of  Montaneses,  hardy  and 
vigorous  troops  from  the  Asturias,  excellent  for 
marauding  warfare.  The  King  of  Leon  brought 
his  veteran  bands,  seasoned  to  battle.  With 
their  united  forces  they  ravaged  the  Moorish 
country,  marking  their  way  with  havoc  and  devas- 
tation ;  arrived  before  Salamanca,  they  took  that 
city  by  storm  after  a  brave  defence,  and  gave  it 
up  to  be  sacked  by  the  soldiery.  After  which 
such  of  the  Moors  as  chose  to  remain  in  it  were 
suffered  to  retain  their  possessions  as  vassals  to 
the  king.  Having  accomplished  this  triumphant 
foray,  they  returned,  each  one  to  his  capital. 

The  Count  of  Castile  did  not  repose  long  in 
his  palace.  One  day  a  Moorish  herald  magni- 
ficently dressed,  rode  into  the  city  of  Burgos, 
bringing  Fernan  Gonzalez  a  cartel  of  defiance. 
It  was  from  a  vaunting  Moor  named  Acefeli,  who 
had  entered  the  territories  of  Castile  with  a  pow- 
erful force  of  horse  and  foot,  giving  out  that  he 
had  come  to  measure  strength  and  prowess  with 
the  count  in  battle.  Don  Fernan  Gonzalez  re- 
plied to  the  defiance  with  weapon  in  hand  at  the 
head  of  his  warriors.  A  pitched  battle  ensued, 
which  lasted  from  early  morn  until  evening  twi- 
light. In  the  course  of  the  fight  the  count  was  in 
imminent  peril,  his  horse  being  killed  under  him 
and  himself  surrounded,  but  he  was  rescued  by 
his  cavaliers.  After  great  bloodshed,  the  Moors 

*  Sandoval,  p,  301. 


were  routed  and  pursued  beyond  the  borders. 
The  spoil  gained  in  this  battle  was  devoutly  ex- 
pended in  repairing  the  churches  of  Castile  and 
the  Montaneses. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A  NIGHT  ASSAULT  UPON  THE  CASTLE  OF  CA- 
RAZO. — THE  MOORISH  MAIDEN  WHO  BE- 
TRAYED THE  GARRISON. 

IN  those  warlike  times  of  Spain  every  one  lived 
with  sword  in  hand  ;  there  was  scarcely  a  com- 
manding cliff  or  hill-top  but  had  its  castle. 
Moors  and  Christians  regarded  each  other  from 
rival  towers  and  battlements  perched  on  oppo- 
site heights,  and  were  incessantly  contending  for 
the  dominion  of  the  valleys. 

We  have  seen  that  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez 
had  regained  possession  of  the  ancient  town  and 
fortress  of  Lara,  the  domain  of  his  ancestors ;  but 
it  will  be  recollected  that  within  two  leagues' 
distance  stood  the  Moorish  presidio  of  Carazo.  It 
was  perched  like  an  eagle's  nest  on  the  summit 
of  a  mountain,  and  the  cragged  steepness  of  its 
position,  and  its  high  and  thick  Avails  seemed  to 
render  it  proof  against  all  assault.  The  Moors 
who  garrisoned  it  were  fierce-  marauders,  who 
used  to  sweep  down  like  birds  of  prey  from  their 
lofty  nest,  pounce  upon  the  flocks  and  dwellings 
of  the  Christians,  make  hasty  ravages,  and  bear 
away  their  spoils  to  the  mountain-top.  There  was 
no  living  with  safety  or  tranquillity  within  the 
scope  of  their  maraudings. 

Intelligence  of  their  misdeeds  was  brought  to 
the  count  at  Burgos.  He  determined  to  have 
that  castle  of  Carazo,  whatever  might  be  the 
cost ;  for  this  purpose  he  called  a  council  of  his 
chosen  cavaliers.  He  did  not  conceal  the  peril 
of  the  enterprise,  from  the  crag-built  situation  of 
the  castle,  its  great  strength,  and  the  vigilance 
and  valor  of  its  garrison.  Still  the  Castilian  ca- 
valiers offered  themselves  to  carry  the  fortress  or 
die. 

The  count  sallied  secretly  from  Burgos  with  a 
select  force,  and  repaired  in  the  night-time  to 
Lara,  that  the  Moors  might  have  no  intimation 
nor  suspicion  of  his  design.  In  the  midst  of  the 
next  night,  the  castle-gate  was  quietly  opened 
and  they  issued  forth  as  silently  as  possible,  pur- 
suing their  course  in  the  deep  shadows  of  the 
valley  until  they  came  to  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain of  Carazo.  Here  they  remained  in  ambush, 
and  sent  forth  scouts.  As  the  latter  prowled 
about  the  day  began  to  dawn,  and  they  heard  a 
female  voice  singing  above  them  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain.  It  was  a  Moorish  damsel  coming 
down,  with  a  vessel  upon  her  head.  She  de- 
scended to  a  fountain  which  gushed  forth  beneath 
a  grove  of  willows,  and  as  she  sang  she  began  to 
fill  her  vessel  with  water.  The  spies  issued  from 
their  concealment,  seized  her,  and  carried  her  to 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez. 

Overcome  by  terror  or  touched  by  conviction, 
the  Moorish  damsel  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
before  the  count,  declared  her  wish  to  turn  Chris- 
tian, and  offered,  in  proof  of  her  sincerity,  to  put 
him  in  a  way  of  gaining  possession  of  the  castle. 
Being  encouraged  to  proceed,  she  told  him  that 
there  was  to  be  a  marriage  feast  that  day  in  the 
castle,  and  of  course  a  great  deal  of  revelry,  which 
would  put  the  garrison  off  its  guard.  She  pointed 
out  a  situation  where  he  might  lay  in  ambush  with 


CHRONICLE  OF  FERNAN  GONZALEZ. 


449 


his  troops  in  sight  of  the  tower,  and  promised 
when  a  favorable  moment  presented  for  an  attack 
to  give  a  signal  with  a  light. 

The  count  regarded  her  for  a  time  with  a  fixed 
and  earnest  gaze,  but  saw  no  faltering  nor  change 
of  countenance.  The  case  required  bold  measures, 
combined  with  stratagem  ;  so  he  confided  in  her, 
and  permitted  her  to  return  to  the  castle.  All 
day  he  lay  in  ambush  with  his  troops,  each  man 
with  his  hand  upon  his  weapon  to  guard  against 
surprise.  The  distant  sound  of  revelry  from  the 
castle,  with  now  and  then  the  clash  of  cymbals, 
the  bray  of  trumpets,  and  a  strain  of  festive 
music,  showed  the  gaiety  that  reigned  within. 
Night  came  on ;  lights  gleamed  from  walls  and 
windows,  but  none  resembling  the  appointed 
signal.  It  was  almost  midnight,  and  the  count 
began  to  fear  the  Moorish  damsel  had  deceived 
him,  when  to  his  great  joy  he  saw  the  signal  light 
gleaming  from  one  of  the  towers. 

He  now  sallied  forth  with  his  men,  and  all,  on 
foot,  clambered  up  the  steep  and  rugged  height. 
They  had  almost  attained  the  foot  of  the  towers 
when  they  were  descried  by  a  sentinel  who  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  "  The  foe  !  the  foe !  to  arms  ! 
to  arms  !  "  The  count,  followed  by  his  hardy 
cavaliers,  rushed  forward  to  the  gate,  crying, 
"  God  and  Saint  Millan  ! "  The  whole  castle  was 
instantly  in  an  uproar.  The  Moors  were  bewil- 
dered by  the  sudden  surprise  and  the  confusion 
of  a  night  assault.  They  fought  bravely,  but 
irregularly.  The  Christians  had  but  one  plan 
and  one  object.  After  a  hard  struggle  and  great 
bloodshed,  they  forced  the  gate  and  made  them- 
selves masters  of  the  castle. 

The  count  remained  several  days,  fortifying  the 
place  and  garrisoning  it,  that  it  might  not  fall 
again  into  the  possession  of  the  Moors.  He  be- 
stowed magnificent  rewards  on  the  Moorish  damsel 
who  had  thus  betrayed  her  countrymen  ;  she  em- 
braced the  Christian  faith,  to  which  she  had  just 
given  such  a  signal  proof  of  devotion,  though  it 
is  not  said  whether  the  count  had  sufficient  con- 
fidence in  her  conversion  and  her  newly  moulded 
piety  to  permit  her  to  remain  in  the  fortress  she 
had  betrayed. 

Having  completed  his  arrangements,  the  count 
departed  on  his  return,  and  encountered  on  the 
road  his  mother  Dona  Nuna  Fernandez,  who, 
exulting  in  his  success,  had  set  out  to  visit  him 
at  Carazo.  The  mother  and  son  had  a  joyful 
meeting,  and  gave  the  name  of  Contreras  to  the 
place  of  their  encounter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DEATH  OF  ALFONSO,  KING  OF  LEON. — THE 
MOORS  DETERMINED  TO  STRIKE  A  FRESH 
BLOW  AT  THE  COUNT,  WHO  SUMMONS  ALL 
CASTILE  TO  HIS  STANDARD. — OF  HIS  HUNT 
IN  THE  FOREST  WHILE  WAITING  FOR  THE 
ENEMY,  AND  OF  THE  HERMIT  THAT  HE  MET 
WITH. 

ALFONSO  THE  GREAT  was  now  growing  old 
and  infirm,  and  his  queen  and  sons,  taking  ad- 
vantage of  his  age  and  feebleness,  endeavored  by 
harsh  treatment  to  compel  him  to  relinquish  the 
crown.  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  interceded  be- 
tween them,  but  in  vain  ;  and  Alfonso  was  at 
length  obliged  to  surrender  his  crown  to  his 
oldest  son,  Don  Garcia.  The  aged  monarch 
then  set  out  upon  a  pilgrimage  to  the  shrine  of 
VOL.  IV.— 29 


St.  lago ;  but,  falling  ill  of  his  mortal  malady, 
sent  for  the  count  to  come  to  him  to  his  death- 
bed at  Zamora.  The  count  hastened  thither  with 
all  zeal  and  loyalty.  He  succeeded  in  effecting  a 
reconciliation  between  Alfonso  and  his  son  Don 
Garcia  in  his  dying  moments,  and  was  with  the 
monarch  when  he  quietly  breathed  his  last.  The 
death  of  the  king  gave  fresh  courage  to  the 
Moors,  and  they  thought  this  a  favorable  moment 
to  strike  a  blow  at  the  rising  power  of  the  count. 
Abderahman  was  at  this  time  king  of  Cordova 
and  Miramamolin,  or  sovereign  of  the  Moors  in 
Spain.  He  had  been  enraged  at  the  capture  of 
the  castle  of  Carazo,  and  the  other  victories  of 
the  count ;  and  now  that  the  latter  had  no  longer 
the  King  of  Leon  to  back  him,  it  was  thought  he 
might,  by  a  vigorous  effort,  be  completely 
crushed.  Abderahman  accordingly  assembled 
at  Cordova  a  great  army  of  Moorish  warriors, 
both  those  of  Spain  and  Africa,  and  sent  them, 
under  the  command  of  Almanzor,  to  ravage  the 
country  of  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez.  This  Alman- 
zor was  the  most  valiant  Moorish  general  in 
Spain,  and  one  on  whom  Abderahman  depended 
as  upon  his  right  hand. 

On  hearing  of  the  impending  danger,  Count 
Fernan  Gonzalez  summoned  all  men  of  Castile 
capable  of  bearing  arms  to  repair  to  his  standard 
at  Munon.  His  force  when  assembled  was  but 
small,  but  composed  of  the  bravest  chivalry  of 
Castile,  any  one  knight  of  which  he  esteemed 
equal  to  ten  Moors.  One  of  the  most  eminent  of 
his  cavaliers  was  Don  Gonzalo  Gustios,  of  Lara, 
who  brought  seven  valiant  sons  to  the  field — the 
same  afterward  renowned  in  Spanish  story  as 
the  seven  princes  of  Lara.  With  Don  Gonzalo 
came  also  his  wife's  brother,  Ruy  or  Rodrigo 
Velasquez,  a  cavalier  of  great  powers. 

In  the  meantime  tidings  continued  to  arrive 
of  the  great  force  of  the  enemy,  which  was  said 
to  cover  the  country  with  its  tents.  The  name 
of  the  Moorish  general,  Almanzor,  likewise  in- 
spired great  alarm.  One  of  the  count's  cavaliers, 
therefore,  Gonzalo  Diaz,  counselled  him  not  to 
venture  upon  an  open  battle  against  such  fearful 
odds  ;  but  rather  to  make  a  tula,  or  ravaging  in- 
road into  the  country  of  the  Moors,  by  way  of 
compelling  them  to  make  a  truce.  The  count, 
however,  rejected  his  advice.  "As  to  their  num- 
bers," said  he,  "  one  lion  is  worth  ten  sheep,  and 
thirty  wolves  could  kill  thirty  thousand  lambs. 
As  to  that  Moor,  Almanzor,  be  assured  we  shall 
vanquish  him,  and  the  greater  his  renown  the 
greater  will  be  the  honor  of  the  victory." 

The  count  now  marched  his  little  army  to 
Lara,  where  he  paused  to  await  the  movements 
of  the  enemy.  While  his  troops  were  lying  there 
he  mounted  his  horse  one  day  and  went  forth 
with  a  few  attendants  to  hunt  in  the  forests  which 
bordered  the  river  Arlanza.  In  the  course  of  the 
chase  he  roused  a  monstrous  boar  and  pursued 
it  among  rocks  and  brakes  until  he  became  sep- 
arated from  his  attendants.  Still  following  the 
track  of  the  boar,  he  came  to  the  foot  of  a  rocky 
precipice,  up  which  the  animal  mounted  by  a 
rugged  and  narrow  path,  where  the  horse  could 
not  follow.  The  count  alighted,  tied  his  horse  to 
an  oak,  and  clambered  up  the  path,  assisting  him- 
self at  times  with  his  boar-spear.  The  path  led 
to  a  close  thicket  of  cedars,  surrounding  a  small 
edifice  partly  built  of  stone  and  partly  hewn  out 
of  the  solid  rock.  The  boar  had  taken  refuge 
within,  and  had  taken  his  stand  behind  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  mass  of  stone.  The  count  was 
about  to  launch  his  javelin  when  he  beheld  a 


450 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


cross  of  stone  standing  on  what  he  now  perceived 
was  an  altar,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  in  a  holy 
place.  Being  as  pious  as  he  was  brave,  the  good 
count  now  knelt  before  the  altar  and  asked 
pardon  of  God  for  the  sin  he  had  been  on  the 
point  of  committing ;  and  when  he  had  finished 
this  prayer,  he  added  another  for  victory  over 
the  foe. 

While  he  was  yet  praying,  there  entered  a 
venerable  monk,  Fray  Pelayo  by  name,  who,  see- 
ing him  to  be  a  Christian  knight,  gave  him  his 
benediction.  He  informed  the  count  that  he  re- 
sided in  this  hermitage  in  company  with  two 
other  monks — Arsenio  and  Silvano.  The  count 
marvelled  much  how  they  could  live  there  in  a 
country  overrun  by  enemies,  and  which  had  for 
a  long  time,  and  but  recently,  been  in  the  power 
of  the  infidels.  The  hermit  replied  that  in  the 
service  of  God  they  were  ready  to  endure  all 
hardships.  It  is  true  they  suffered  much  from 
cold  and  hunger,  being  obliged  to  live  chiefly  on 
herbs  and  roots  ;  but  by  secret  paths  and  tracks 
they  were  in  communication  with  other  hermit- 
ages scattered  throughout  the  country,  so  that 
they  were  enabled  to  aid  and  comfort  each  other. 
They  could  also  secretly  sustain  in  the  faith  the 
Christians  who  were  held  in  subjection  by  the 
Moors,  and  afford  them  places  of  refuge  and  con- 
cealment in  cases  of  extremity. 

The  count  now  opened  his  heart  to  the  good 
hermit,  revealing  his  name  and  rank,  and  the 
perils  impending  over  him  from  the  invasion  of 
the  infidel.  As  the  day  was  far  spent,  Fray 
Pelayo  prevailed  upon  him  to  pass  the  night  in 
the  hermitage,  setting  before  him  barley  bread 
and  such  simple  fare  as  his  cell  afforded. 

Early  in  the  morning  the  count  went  forth  and 
found  the  hermit  seated  beneath  a  tree  on  a  rock, 
whence  he  could  look  far  and  wide  out  of  the 
forest  and  over  the  surrounding  country.  The 
hermit  then  accosted  him  as  one  whose  holy  and 
meditative  life  and  mortifications  of  the  flesh  had 
given  to  look  into  the  future  almost  with  the  eye 
of  prophecy.  "  Of  a  truth,  my  son,"  said  he, 
"  there  are  many  trials  and  hardships  in  store  for 
thee ;  but  be  of  good  cheer,  thou  wilt  conquer 
these  Moors,  and  wilt  increase  thy  power  and 
possessions."  He  now  revealed  to  the  count 
certain  signs  and  portents  which  would  take  place 
during  battle.  "When  thou  shall  see  these," 
said  he,  "be  assured  that  Heaven  is  on  thy  side, 
and  thy  victory  secure."  The  count  listened 
with  devout  attention.  "If  these  things  do  in- 
deed come  to  pass,"  said  he,  "  I  will  found  a 
church  and  convent  in  this  place,  to  be  dedicated 
to  St.  Peter,  the  patron  saint  of  this  hermitage  ; 
and  when  I  die  my  body  shall  be  interred  here." 
Receiving  then  the  benediction  of  the  holy  friar 
he  departed. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  FORD  OF  CASCAJARES. 

WHEN  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  returned  to  his 
troops  he  found  them  in  great  alarm  at  his 
absence,  fearing  some  evil  had  befallen  him  ; 
but  he  cheered  them  with  an  account  of  his  ad- 
venture and  of  the  good  fortune  predicted  by  the 
hermit. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  May,  on  the  day  of  the 
Holy  Cross,  that  the  Christian  and  Moslem  ar- 
mies came  in  sight  of  each  other.  The  Moors 


advanced  with  a  great  sound  of  trumpets,  atabals, 
and  cymbals,  and  their  mighty  host  extended  over 
hill  and  valley.  When  they  saw  how  small  was 
the  force  of  the  Christians  they  put  up  derisive 
shouts,  and  rushed  forward  to  surround  them. 

Don  Fernan  Gonzalez  remained  calm  and  un- 
moved upon  a  rising  ground,  for  the  hour  was  at 
hand  when  the  sign  of  victory  promised  by  the 
hermit  was  to  take  place.  Near  by  him  was  a 
youthful  cavalier,  Pedro  Gonzalez  by  name,  a 
native  of  La  Puente  de  Hitero,  of  fiery  courage 
but  vainglorious  temper.  He  was  cased  in  shin- 
ing armor,  and  mounted  on  a  beautiful  horse  im- 
patient of  spirit  as  himself,  and  incessantly 
foaming  and  champing  on  the  bit  and  pawing  the 
earth.  As  the  Moors  drew  near,  while  there  was 
yet  a  large  space  between  them  and  the  Chris- 
tians, this  fiery  cavalier  could  no  longer  contain 
himself,  but  giving  reins  to  his  steed  set  off  head- 
long to  encounter  the  foe  ;  when  suddenly  the 
earth  opened,  man  and  horse  rushed  downward 
into  an  abyss,  and  the  earth  closed  as  before. 

A  cry  of  horror  ran  through  the  Christian 
ranks,  and  a  panic  was  likely  to  seize  upon  them, 
but  Don  Fernan  Gonzalez  rode  in  front  of  them, 
exclaiming,  "  This  is  the  promised  sign  of  victory. 
Let  us  see  how  Castilians  defend  their  lord,  for 
my  standard  shall  be  borne  into  the  thickest  of 
the  fight."  So  saying,  he  ordered  Orbita  Fer- 
nandez to  advance  his  standard ;  and  when  his 
troops  saw  the  silver  cross  glittering  on  high  and 
borne  toward  the  enemy,  they  shouted,  "  Castile  ! 
Castile ! "  and  rushed  forward  to  the  fight.  Im- 
mediately around  the  standard  fought  Don  Gon- 
zalo  Gustios  and  his  seven  sons,  and  he  was,  say 
the  old  chroniclers,  like  a  lion  leading  his  whelps 
into  the  fight.  Wherever  they  fought  their  way, 
they  might  be  traced  by  the  bodies  of  bleeding 
and  expiring  infidels.  Few  particulars  of  this 
battle  remain  on  record ;  but  it  is  said  the  Moors 
were  as  if  struck  with  sudden  fear  and  weakness, 
and  fled  in  confusion.  Almanzor  himself  escaped 
by  the  speed  of  his  horse,  attended  by  a  handful 
of  his  cavaliers. 

In  the  camp  of  the  Moors  was  found  vast  booty 
in  gold  and  silver,  and  other  precious  things, 
with  sumptuous  armor  and  weapons.  When  the 
spoil  was  divided  and  the  troops  were  refreshed, 
Don  Fernan  Gonzalez  went  with  his  cavaliers  in 
pious  procession  to  the  hermitage  of  San  Pedro. 
Here  he  gave  much  silver  and  gold  to  the  worthy 
Fray  Pelayo,  to  be  expended  in  masses  for  the 
souls  of  the  Christian  warriors  who  had  fallen  in 
battle,  and  in  prayers  for  further  victories  over 
the  infidels  ;  after  which  he  returned  in  triumph 
to  his  capital  in  Burgos.* 


*  It  does  not  appear  that  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez 
kept  his  promise  of  founding  a  church  and  monastery 
on  the  site  of  the  hermitage.  The  latter  edifice  re- 
mained to  after  ages.  "It  stands,"  says  Sandoval, 
"on  a  precipice  overhanging  the  river  Arlanza,  inso- 
much that  it  inspires  dread  to  look  below.  It  is  ex- 
tremely ancient ;  large  enough  to  hold  a  hundred  per- 
sons. Within  the  chapel  is  an  opening  like  a  chasm, 
leading  down  to  a  cavern  larger  than  the  church,  formed 
in  the  solid  rock,  with  a  small  window  which  overlooks 
the  river.  It  was  here  the  Christians  used  to  conceal 
themselves." 

As  a  corroboration  of  the  adventure  of  the  Count  of 
Castile,  Sandoval  assures  us  that  in  his  day  the  oak  still 
existed  to  which  Don  Fernan  Gonzalez  tied  his  horse, 
when  he  alighted  to  scramble  up  the  hill  in  pursuit  of 
the  boar.  The  worthy  Fray  Agapida,  however,  needed 
no  corroboration  of  the  kind,  swallowing  the  whole 
story  with  the  ready  credence  of  a  pious  monk.  The 


CHRONICLE  OF  FERNAN  GONZALEZ. 


451 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OF  THE  MESSAGE  SENT  BY  THE  COUNT  TO 
SANCHO  II.,  KING  OF  NAVARRE,  AND  THE 
REPLY. — THEIR  ENCOUNTER  IN  BATTLE. 

THE  good  Count  of  Castile  was  so  inspirited 
by  this  signal  victory  over  the  Moors,  and  their 
great  general  Almanzor,  that  he  determined,  now 
that  he  had  a  breathing-spell  from  infidel  warfare, 
to  redress  certain  grievances  sustained  from  one 
of  his  Christian  neighbors.  This  was  Don  Sancho 
II.,  King  of  Navarre,  surnamed  Abarca,  either 
from  the  abarcas  or  shepherd-shoes  which  he  had 
worn  in  early  life,  when  brought  up  in  secrecy 
and  indigence,  during  the  overthrow  of  his  coun- 
try by  the  Moors,  or  from  making  his  soldiers 
wear  shoes  of  the  kind  in  crossing  the  snowy 
Pyrenees.  It  was  a  name  by  which  the  populace 
delighted  to  call  him. 

This  prince  had  recovered  all  Navarre  from 
the  infidels,  and  even  subjected  to  his  crown  all 
Biscay,  or  Cantabria,  and  some  territory  beyond 
the  Pyrenees,  on  the  confines  of  France.  Not 
content  with  these  acquisitions,  he  had  made 
occasional  inroads  into  Castile,  in  consequence 
of  a  contest  respecting  the  territories  of  Najarra 
and  Rioxa,  to  which  he  laid  claim.  These  incur- 
sions he  repeated  whenever  he  had  peace  or  truce 
with  the  Moors.* 

Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  having  now  time,  as 
has  been  observed,  to  attend  to  these  matters, 
sent  an  ambassador  to  King  Sancho,  charged 
with  a  courteous  but  resolute  message.  "  I 
come,  Senor,"  said  the  ambassador  to  the  king, 
"by  command  of  the  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  of 
Castile,  and  this  is  what  I  am  told  to  say.  You 
have  done  him  much  wrong  in  times  past,  by 
leaguing  with  the  infidels  and  making  inroads 
into  his  territories  while  he  was  absent  or  en- 
gaged in  war.  If  you  will  amend  your  ways  in 
this  respect,  and  remedy  the  past,  you  will  do 
him  much  pleasure  ;  but  if  you  refuse,  he  sends 
you  his  defiance." 

King  Sancho  Abarca  was  lost  in  astonishment 
and  indignation  at  receiving  such  a  message  from 
a  count  of  Castile.  "  Return  to  the  count,"  said 
he,  "and  tell  him  I  will  amend  nothing;  that  I 
marvel  at  his  insolence,  and  hold  him  for  a  mad- 
man for  daring  to  defy  me.  Tell  him  he  has 
listened  to  evil  counsel,  or  a  few  trifling  successes 
against  the  Moors  have  turned  his  brain  ;  but  it 
will  be  very  different  when  I  come  to  seek  him, 
for  there  is  not  town  or  tower  from  which  I  will 
not  drag  him  forth."  f 

The  ambassador  returned  with  this  reply,  nor 
did  he  spare  the  least  of  its  scorn  and  bitterness. 
Upon  this  tlfe  count  assembled  his  cavaliers  and 
councillors,  and  represented  the  case.  He  ex- 
horted them  to  stand  by  him  in  seeking  redress 
for  this  insult  and  injury  to  their  country  and 


action  here  recorded  was  known  by  the  name  of  the  bat- 
tle of  the  Ford  of  Cascajares. 

Sandoval  gives  a  different  account  of  the  fate  of  the 
hermits.  He  says  that  Almanzor,  in  a  rage  at  their 
prognostics,  overthrew  their  chapel,  and,  without 
alighting  from  his  horse,  ordered  the  three  monks  to  be 
beheaded  in  his  presence.  "This  martyrdom,"  he 
adds,  "is  represented  in  an  ancient  painting  of  the 
chapel  which  still  exists." 

*  Sandoval :  The  Five  Bishops.  Mariana,  lib.  8,  c. 
5>  P-  S^?.  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espafia,  part  3,  c.  18, 
fol.  53. 

f  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espana,  at  supra. 


their  chieftain.  "  We  are  not  equal  in  numbers 
to  the  enemy,  but  we  are  valiant  men,  united 
and  true  to  each  other,  and  one  hundred  good 
lances,  all  in  the  hands  of  chosen  cavaliers,  all 
of  one  heart  and  mind,  are  worth  three  hundred 
placed  by  chance  in  the  hands  of  men  who  have 
no  common  tie."  The  cavaliers  all  assured  him 
they  would  follo>v  and  obey  him  as  loyal  sub- 
jects of  a  worthy  lord,  and  would  prove  their 
fealty  in  the  day  of  battle. 

A  little  army  of  staunch  Castilians  was  soon 
assembled,  the  silver  cross  was  again  reared  on 
high  by  the  standard-bearer  Orbita  Velasquez, 
and  the  count  advanced  resolutely  a  day's  journey 
into  the  kingdom  of  Navarre,  for  his  maxim  was 
to  strike  quickly  and  sudden.  King  Sancho 
wondered  at  his  daring,  but  hastened  to  meet 
him  with  a  greatly  superior  force.  The  armies 
came  in  sight  of  each  other  at  a  place  called  the 
Era  de  Gollanda. 

The  count  now  addressed  his  men.  "The 
enemy,"  said  he,  "  are  more  numerous  than  we  ; 
they  are  vigorous  of  body  and  light  of  foot,  and 
are  dexterous  in  throwing  darts.  They  will  have 
the  advantage  if  they  attack  us ;  but  if  we  attack 
them  and  close  manfully,  we  shall  get  the  field 
of  them  before  they  have  time  to  hurl  their  darts 
and  wound  us.  For  my  part,  I  shall  make  for 
the  king.  If  I  can  but  revenge  the  wrongs  of  Cas- 
tile upon  his  person  I  care  not  how  soon  I  die." 

As  the  armies  drew  near  each  other  the  Cas- 
tilians, true  to  the  orders  of  their  chieftain,  put 
up  the  war  cry,  "  Castile  !  Castile  !  "  and  rushing 
forward,  broke  through  the  squadrons  of  Navarre. 
Then  followed  a  fight  so  pitiless  and  deadly,  says 
an  old  chronicler,  that  the  strokes  of  their  weap- 
ons resounded  through  the  whole  country.  The 
count  sought  King  Sancho  throughout  the  whole 
field ;  they  met  and  recognized  each  other  by 
their  armorial  bearings  and  devices.  They  fought 
with  fury,  until  both  fell  from  their  horses  as  if 
dead.  The  Castilians  cut  their  way  through  the 
mass  of  the  enemy,  and  surrounded  their  fallen 
chief.  Some  raised  him  from  the  earth  while 
others  kept  off  the  foe.  At  first  they  thought  him 
dead,  and  were  loud  in  their  lamentations  ;  but 
when  the  blood  and  dust  were  wiped  from  his 
face  he  revived  and  told  them  not  to  heed  him, 
for  his  wounds  were  nothing ;  but  to  press  on 
and  gain  the  victory,  for  he  had  slain  the  King 
of  Navarre. 

At  hearing  this  they  gave  a  great  shout  and  re- 
turned to  the  fight ;  but  those  of  Navarre,  seized 
with  terror  at  the  fall  of  their  king,  turned  their 
backs  and  fled. 

The  count  then  caused  the  body  of  the  king  to 
be  taken  from  among  the  slain  and  to  be  con- 
ducted, honorably  attended,  to  Navarre.  Thus 
fell  Sancho  Abarca,  King  of  Navarre,  and  was 
succeeded  by  his  son  Don  Garcia,  surnamed  the 
Trembler. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HOW  THE  COUNT  OF  TOULOUSE  MAKES  A  CAM- 
PAIGN AGAINST  CASTILE,  AND  HOW  HE 
RETURNS  IN  HIS  COFFIN. 

WHILE  the  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  was  yet  ill 
of  his  wounds  in  his  capital,  and  when  his  soldiers 
had  scarce  laid  by  their  cuirasses  and  hung  up 
their  shields  and  lances,  there  was  a  fresh  alarm 
of  war.  The  Count  of  Toulouse  and  Poictiers, 
the  close  friend  and  ally  of  King  Sancho  Abarca, 


452 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


had  come  from  France  with  a  host  to  his  assist- 
ance, but  finding  him  defeated  and  slain,  raised 
his  standard  to  make  a  campaign,  in  his  revenge, 
against  the  Castilians.  The  Navarrese  all  gath- 
ered round  him,  and  now  an  army  was  on  foot 
more  powerful  than  the  one  which  had  recently 
been  defeated. 

Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  wounded  as  he  was, 
summoned  his  troops  to  march  against  this  new 
enemy  ;  but  the  war-worn  Castilians,  vexed  at 
being  thus  called  again  to  arms  before  they  had 
time  to  breathe, began  to  murmur.  "This  is  the 
life  of  the  very  devil,"  said  they,  "to  go  about 
day  and  night,  without  a  moment's  rest.  This 
lord  of  ours  is  assuredly  Satan  himself,  and  we 
are  lesser  devils  in  his  employ,  always  busy  en- 
trapping the  souls  of  men.  He  has  no  pity  for  us, 
so  battered  and  worn,  nor  for  himself,  so  badly 
wounded.  It  is  necessary  that  some  one  should 
talk  with  him,  and  turn  him  from  this  madness." 

Accordingly  a  hardy  cavalier,  Nufio  Laynez, 
remonstrated  with  the  count  against  further  fight- 
ing until  he  should  be  cured  of  his  wounds  and 
his  people  should  have  time  to  repose ;  for  mor- 
tal men  could  not  support  this  kind  of  life. 
"  Nor  is  this  urged  through  cowardice,"  added 
he,  "  for  your  men  are  ready  to  fight  for  and 
.defend  you  as  they  would  their  own  souls." 

"  Well  have  you  spoken,  Nufio  Laynez,"  re- 
plied the  count;  "yet  for  all  this  I  am  not 
miittcled  to  defer  this  fight.  A  day  lost  never 
returns.  An  opportunity  foregone  can  never  be 
recalled.  The  warrior  who  indulges  in  repose 
will  never  leave  the  memory  of  great  deeds  be- 
hind him.  His  name  dies  when  his  soul  leaves 
the  body.  Let  us,  therefore,  make  the  most  of 
the  days  and  hours  allotted  us,  and  crown  them 
with  such  glorious  deeds  that  the  world  shall 
praise  us  in  all  future  time." 

When  Nuno  Laynez  repeated  these  generous 
words  to  the  cavaliers,  the  blood  glowed  in  their 
veins,  and  they  prepared  themselves  manfully  for 
the  field ;  nor  did  the  count  give  them  time  to 
cool  before  he  put  himself  at  their  head  and 
marched  to  meet  the  enemy.  He  found  them 
drawn  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  river  which 
was  swollen  and  troubled  by  recent  rains.  With- 
out hesitation  he  advanced  to  ford  it,  but  his 
troops  were  galled  by  flights  of  darts  and  arrows 
as  they  crossed,  and  received  with  lances  on  the 
water's  edge  ;  the  bodies  of  many  floated  down 
the  turbid  stream,  and  many  perished  on  the 
banks.  They  made  good  their  crossing,  how- 
ever, and  closed  with  the  enemy.  The  fight 
was  obstinate,  and  the  Castilians  were  hardly 
pressed,  being  so  inferior  in  number.  Don  Fer- 
nan Gonzalez  galloped  along  the  front  of  the 
enemy.  "Where  is  the  Count  of  Toulouse?" 
cried  he  ;  "  let  him  come  forth  and  face  me, — 
me,  Fernan  Gonzalez  of  Castile,  who  defy  him  to 
single  combat !  "  The  count  answered  promptly 
to  the  defiance.  No  one  from  either  side  pre- 
sumed to  interfere  while  the  two  counts  encoun- 
tered, man  to  man  and  horse  to  horse,  like  honor- 
able and  generous  cavaliers.  They  rushed  upon 
each  other  with  the  full  speed  of  their  horses ; 
the  lance  of  Don  Fernan  pierced  through  all  the 
armor  and  accoutrements  of  the  Count  of  Tou- 
louse and  bore  him  out  of  the  saddle,  and  before 
he  touched  the  earth  his  soul  had  already  parted 
from  his  body.  The  men  of  Toulouse,  seeing 
their  chief  fall  dead,  fled  amain,  but  were  pur- 
sued, and  three  hundred  of  them  taken.* 


*  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espaiia. 


The  field  being  won,  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez 
alighted  and  took  off  the  armor  of  the  Count  of 
Toulouse  with  his  own  hands,  and  wrapped  him 
in  a  xemete,  or  Moorish  mantle,  of  great  value, 
which  he  had  gained  when  he  conquered  Alman- 
zor.  He  ordered  a  coffin  to  be  made,  and  covered 
with  cloth  of  gold,  and  studded  with  silver  nails, 
and  he  put  therein  the  body  of  the  count,  and 
delivered  it  to  the  captive  cavaliers,  whom  he 
released  and  furnished  with  money  for  their  ex- 
penses, making  them  swear  not  to  leave  the  body 
of  the  count  until  they  had  conducted  it  to  Tou- 
louse. So  the  count,  who  had  come  from  France 
in  such  chivalrous  state,  at  the  head  of  an  array 
of  shining  warriors,  returned  in  his  coffin  with  a 
mourning  train  of  vanquished  cavaliers,  while 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  conducted  his  victorious 
troops  in  triumph  back  to  Burgos. 

This  signal  victory  took  place  in  the  year  of 
our  Redemption  926,  in  the  beginning  of  the 
reign  of  Alfonso  the  Monk  on  the  throne  of  Leon 
and  the  Asturias.* 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW  THE  COUNT  WENT  TO  RECEIVE  THE  HAND 
OF  A  PRINCESS,  AND  WAS  THROWN  INTO 
A  DUNGEON.  —  OF  THE  STRANGER  THAT 
VISITED  HIM  IN  HIS  CHAINS,  AND  OF  THE 
APPEAL  THAT  HE  MADE  TO  THE  PRINCESS 
FOR  HIS  DELIVERANCE. 

GARCIA  II.,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  throne 
of  Navarre  on  the  death  of  his  father,  was  brave 
of  soul,  though  surnamed  El  Tembloso,  or  The 
Trembler.  He  was  so  called  because  he  was  ob- 
served to  tremble  on  going  into  battle  ;  but,  as 
has  been  said  of  others,  it  was  only  the  flesh  that 
trembled,  foreseeing  the  dangers  into  which  the 
spirit  would  carry  it.  The  king  was  deeply 
grieved  at  the  death  of  his  father,  slain  by  Count 
Fernan  Gonzalez,  and  would  have  taken  ven- 
geance by  open  warfare,  but  he  was  counselled  by 
his  mother,  the  Queen  Teresa,  to  pursue  a  subtler 
course.  At  her  instigation  overtures  were  made 
to  the  count  to  settle  all  the  feuds  between  Na- 
varre and  Castile  by  a  firm  alliance,  and  to  this 
end  it  was  proposed  that  the  count  should  take  to 
wife  Dona  Sancha,  the  sister  of  King  Garcia  and 
daughter  of  King  Sancho  Abarca.  The  count 
accepted  gladly  the  proffered  alliance,  for  he  had 
heard  of  the  great  merit  and  beauty  of  the 
princess,  and  was  pleased  with  so  agreeable  a 
mode  of  putting  an  end  to  all  their  contests.  A 
conference  was  accordingly  appointed  between 
the  count  and  King  Garcia,  to  tafce  place  at 
Ciruena,  each  to  be  attended  only  by  five  cava- 
liers. 

The  count  was  faithful  to  his  compact,  and  ap- 
peared at  the  appointed  place  with  five  of  the 
bravest  of  his  cavaliers  ;  but  the  king  arrived 
withfive-and-thirty  chosen  men,  all  armed  cap-a- 
pie.  The  count,  suspecting  treachery,  retreated 
with  his  cavaliers  into  a  neighboring  hermitage, 
and,  barricading  the  door,  defended  himself 
throughout  the  day  until  nightfall.  Seeing  there 
was  no  alternative,  he  at  length  capitulated  and 
agreed  to  surrender  himself  a  prisoner,  and  pay 
homage  to  the  king,  on  the  latter  assuring  him, 
under  oath,  that  his  life  should  be  secure.  King 
Garcia  the  Trembler,  having  in  this  wily  manner 

*  Mariana,  lib.  8,  c.  5,  p.  367. 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


453 


gained  possession  of  the  count,  threw  him  in 
irons  and  conducted  him  prisoner  to  Navarre, 
where  he  confined  him  in  a  strong  castle  called 
Castro  Viejo.  At  his  intercession,  however,  his 
rive  cavaliers  were  released,  and  carried  back  to 
Castile  the  doleful  tidings  of  his  captivity. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  that  a  brave  Norman 
count,  who  was  performing  a  pilgrimage  to  St. 
lago  of  Compostella,  heard  that  the  Count 
Fernan  Gonzalez,  whose  renown  had  spread  far 
and  wide,  lay  in  chains  in  Castro  Viejo.  Hav- 
ing a  vehement  desire  to  see  the  man  of  whom 
fame  had  spoken  so  loudly,  he  repaired  to  the 
castle,  and  bribed  his  way  to  the  prison  of  the 
count.  When  he  entered  and  beheld  so  noble 
a  cavalier  in  a  solitary  dungeon  and  in  chains, 
he  was  sore  at  heart.  The  count  looked  up 
with  wonder  as  this  stranger  stood  before  him  in 
pilgrim  garb  and  with  sorrowful  aspect,  but 
when  he  learned  his  name  and  rank,  and  the 
object  of  his  visit,  he  gave  him  the  right  hand  of 
friendship. 

The  pilgrim  count  left  the  castle  more  ena- 
mored than  ever  of  the  character  of  Count  Fer- 
nan Gonzalez.  At  a  festival  of  the  court  he  be- 
held the  Princess  Sancha,  who  had  served  as  a 
lure  to  draw  the  good  count  into  the  power  of 
his  enemies,  and  he  found  her  of  surpassing 
beauty,  and  of  a  gentle  and  loving  demeanor  ;  so 
he  determined  to  seek  an  opportunity  to  speak 
with  her  in  private,  for  surely,  thought  he,  in 
such  a  bosom  must  dwell  the  soft  pity  of  woman- 
hood. Accordingly,  one  day  as  the  princess  was 
walking  in  the  garden  with  her  ladies,  he  pre- 
sented himself  before  her  in  his  pilgrim's  garb, 
and  prayed  to  speak  with  her  apart,  as  if  on 
some  holy  mission.  And  when  they  were  alone, 
"  How  is  this,  Princess,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are 
doing  such  great  wrong  to  Heaven,  to  yourself, 
and  to  all  Christendom  ?  "  The  princess  started, 
and  said,  "What  wrong  have  I  done?"  Then 
replied  the  pilgrim  count,  "  Behold,  for  thy  sake 
the  noblest  of  cavaliers,  the  pride  of  Spain,  the 
flower  of  chivalry,  the  hope  of  Christendom,  lies 
in  a  dungeon,  fettered  with  galling  chains.  What 
lady  but  would  be  too  happy  to  be  honored  with 
the  love  of  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez ;  and  thou 
hast  scorned  it !  How  will  it  tell  for  thy  fame 
in  future  times,  that  thou  wast  made  a  snare  to 
capture  an  honorable  knight  ;  that  the  gentlest, 
the  bravest,  the  most  generous  of  cavaliers  was 
inveigled  by  the  love  of  thee  to  be  thrown  into  a 
dungeon  ?  How  hast  thou  reversed  the  maxims 
of  chivalry  !  Beauty  has  ever  been  the  friend  of 
valor ;  but  thou  hast  been  its  foe !  The  fair 
hands  of  lovely  dames  have  ever  bestowed  laurels 
and  rewards  on  those  gallant  knights  who  sought 
and  deserved  their  loves ;  thou  hast  bestowed 
chains  and  a  dungeon.  Behold,  the  Moors  re- 
joice in  his  captivity,  while  all  Christians  mourn. 
Thy  name  will  be  accursed  throughout  the  land 
like  that  of  Cava;  but  shouldst  thou  have  the 
heroism  to  set  him  free,  thou  wilt  be  extolled 
above  all  Spanish  ladies.  Hadst  thou  but  seen 
him  as  I  have  done, — alone,  abandoned,  en- 
chained ;  yet  so  noble,  so  courteous,  so  heroic  in 
his  chains,  that  kings  upon  their  thrones  might 
envy  the  majesty  of  his  demeanor.  If  thou 
couldst  feel  love  for  man,  thou  shouldst  do  it  for 
this  knight ;  for  I  swear  to  thee  on  this  cross 
which  I  bear,  that  never  was  there  king  or 
emperor  in  the  world  so  worthy  of  woman's 
love."  When  the  pilgrim  count  had  thus  spok- 
en, he  left  the  princess  to  meditate  upon  his 
words. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

OF  THE  MEDITATIONS  OF  THE  PRINCESS,  AND 
THEIR  RESULT. — HER.  FLIGHT  FROM  THE 
PRISON  WITH  THE  COUNT,  AND  PERILS  OF 
THE  ESCAPE. — THE  NUPTIALS. 

THE  Princess  Sancha  remained  for  some  time 
in  the  garden,  revolving  in  her  mind  all  that  she 
had  just  heard,  and  tenderness  for  the  Count 
Fernan  Gonzalez  began  to  awaken  in  her  bosom  ; 
for  nothing  so  touches  the  heart  of  woman  as  the 
idea  of  valor  suffering  for  her  sake.  The  more 
the  princess  meditated  the  more  she  became 
enamored.  She  called  to  mind  all  she  had  heard 
of  the  illustrious  actions  of  the  count.  She 
thought  upon  the  pictures  just  drawn  of  him  in 
prison — so  noble,  so  majestic  in  his  chains.  She 
remembered  the  parting  words  of  the  pilgrim 
count — "  Never  was  there  king  nor  emperor  so 
worthy  of  a  woman's  love."  "  Alas  !  "  cried  she, 
"  was  there  ever  a  lady  more  unfortunate  than  I  ? 
All  the  love  and  devotion  of  this  noble  cavalier  I 
might  have  had,  and  behold  it  has  been  made  a 
mockery.  Both  he  and  myself  have  been  wronged 
by  the  treachery  of  my  brother." 

At  length  the  passion  of  the  princess  arose  to 
such  a  height  that  she  determined  to  deliver  the 
count  from  the  misery  of  which  she  had  been 
made  the  instrument.  So  she  found  means  one 
night  to  bribe  the  guards  of  his  prison,  and  made 
her  way  to  his  dungeon.  When  the  count  saw 
her,  he  thought  it  a  beautiful  vision,  or  some 
angel  sent  from  heaven  to  comfort  him,  for 
certainly  her  beauty  surpassed  the  ordinary  love- 
liness of  woman. 

"  Noble  cavalier,"  said  the  princess,  "  this  is  no 
time  for  idle  words  and  ceremonies.  Behold  be- 
fore you  the  Princess  Dona  Sancha  ;  the  word 
which  my  brother  brake  I  am  here  to  fulfil.  You 
came  to  receive  my  hand,  and,  instead,  you  were 
thrown  in  chains.  I  come  to  yield  you  that  hand, 
and  to  deliver  you  from  those  chains.  Behold, 
the  door  of  your  prison  is  open,  and  I  am  ready 
to  fly  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Swear 
to  me  one  word,  and  when  you  have  sworn  it,  I 
know  your  loyalty  too  well  to  doubt  that  you  will 
hold  your  oath  sacred.  Swear  that  if  I  fly  with 
you,  you  will  treat  me  with  the  honor  of  a  knight ; 
that  you  will  make  me  your  wife,  and  never  leave 
me  for  any  other  woman." 

The  count  swore  all  this  on  the  faith  of  a  Chris- 
tian cavalier ;  and  well  did  he  feel  disposed  to 
keep  his  oath,  for  never  before  had  he  beheld 
such  glorious  beauty. 

So  the  princess  led  the  way,  for  her  authority 
and  her  money  had  conquered  the  fidelity  of  the 
guards,  so  that  they  permitted  the  count  to  sally 
forth  with  her  from  the  prison. 

It  was  a  dark  night,  and  they  left  the  great 
road  and  climbed  a  mountain.  The  count  was  so 
fettered  by  his  chains  that  he  moved  with  diffi- 
culty, but  the  princess  helped  and  sometimes 
almost  carried  him  ;  for  what  will  not  delicate 
woman  perform  when  her  love  and  pity  are  fully 
aroused.  Thus  they  toiled  on  their  way  until  the 
day  dawned,  when  they  hid  themselves  in  the 
clifts  of  the  mountain,  among  rocks  and  thickets. 
While  thus  concealed  they  beheld  an  archpriest 
of  the  castle,  mounted  on  a  mule  with  a  falcon 
on  his  fist,  hawking  about  the  lower  part  of  the 
mountain.  The  count  knew  him  to  be  a  base  and 
malignant  man,  and  watched  his  movements  with 
great  anxiety.  He  had  two  hounds  beating  about 
the  bushes,  which  at  length  got  upon  the  traces  of 


454 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


the  count  and  princess,  and  discovering  them,  set 
up  a  violent  barking.  Alighting  from  his  mule, 
the  archpriest  clambered  up  to  where  the  fugitives 
were  concealed.  He  knew  the  count,  and  saw 
that  he  had  escaped.  "  Aha  !  traitor,"  cried  he, 
drawing  his  sword,  "  think  not  to  escape  from  the 
power  of  the  king."  The  count  saw  that  resist- 
ance was  in  vain,  for  he  was  without  weapon  and 
in  chains,  and  the  archpriest  was  a  powerful 
man,  exceeding  broad  across  the  shoulders ;  he 
sought  therefore  to  win  him  by  fair  words,  prom- 
ising that  if  he  would  aid  him  to  escape  he  would 
give  him  a  city  in  Castile,  for  him  and  his  heirs 
forever.  But  the  archpriest  was  more  violent 
than  ever,  and  held  his  sword  at  the  breast  of  the 
count  to  force  him  back  to  the  castle.  Upon  this 
the  princess  rushed  forward,  and  with  tears  in 
her  eyes  implored  him  not  to  deliver  the  count 
into  the  hands  of  his  enemies.  But  the  heart 
of  the  priest  was  inflamed  by  the  beauty  of 
the  princess,  and  thinking  her  at  his  mercy, 
"  Gladly,"  said  he,  "  will  I  assist  the  count  to 
escape,  but  upon  one  condition."  Then  he  whis- 
pered a  proposal  which  brought  a  crimson  glow 
of  horror  and  indignation  into  the  cheeks  of  the 
princess,  and  he  would  have  laid  his  hand  upon 
her,  but  he  was  suddenly  lifted  from  the  earth  by 
the  strong  grasp  of  the  count,  who  bore  him  to 
the  edge  of  a  precipice  and  flung  him  headlong 
down ;  and  his  neck  was  broken  in  the  fall. 

The  count  then  took  the  mule  of  the  arch- 
priest,  his  hawk,  and  his  hounds,  and  after  keep- 
ing in  the  secret  parts  of  the  mountain  all  day, 
he  and  the  princess  mounted  the  mule  at  night, 
and  pursued  their  way,  by  the  most  rugged  and 
unfrequented  passes,  toward  Castile. 

As  the  day  dawned  they  found  themselves  in 
an  open  plain  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  and 
beheld  a  body  of  horsemen  riding  toward  them, 
conducting  a  car,  in  which  sat  a  knight  in  armor, 
bearing  a  standard.  The  princess  now  gave  all 
up  for  lost.  "  These,"  said  she,  "  are  sent  by  my 
brother  in  pursuit  of  us  ;  how  can  we  escape,  for 
this  poor  animal  has  no  longer  strength  nor  speed 
to  bear  us  up  the  mountains  ?  "  Upon  this  Count 
Fernan  alighted,  and  drawing  the  sword  of  the 
archpriest,  placed  himself  in  a  narrow  pass.  "  Do 
you,"  said  he  to  the  princess,  "turn  back  and 
hasten  to  the  mountains,  and  dearly  shall  it  cost 
him  who  attempts  to  follow  you."  "  Not  so,"  re- 
plied the  princess  ;  "  for  the  love  of  me  hast  thou 
been  brought  from  thine  own  domain  and  be- 
trayed into  all  these  dangers,  and  I  will  abide  to 
share  them  with  thee." 

The  count  would  have  remonstrated,  when  to 
his  astonishment  he  saw,  as  the  car  drew  near, 
that  the  knight  seated  in  it  was  clad  in  his  own 
armor,  with  his  own  devices,  and  held  his  own 
banner  in  his  hand.  "  Surely,"  said  he,  crossing 
himself,  "  this  is  enchantment ;  "  but  on  looking 
still  nearer,  he  recognized  among  the  horsemen 
Nufio  Sandias  and  Nufto  Laynez,  two  of  his 
most  faithful  knights.  Then  his  heart  leaped  for 
joy.  "  Fear  nothing,"  cried  he  to  the  princess  ; 
"behold  my  standard,  and  behold  my  vassals. 
Those  whom  you  feared  as  enemies  shall  kneel  at 
your  feet  and  kiss  your  hand  in  homage." 

Now  so  it  appears  that  the  tidings  of  the  cap- 
tivity of  the  count  had  spread  mourning  and  con- 
sternation throughout  Castile,  and  the  cavaliers 
assembled  together  to  devise  means  for  his  deliv- 
erance. And  certain  of  them  had  prepared  this 
effigy  of  the  count,  clad  in  his  armor  and  bearing 
his  banner  and  devices,  and  having  done  homage 
and  sworn  fealty  to  if  as  they  would  have  done 


to  the  count  himself,  they  had  placed  it  in  this  car 
and  set  forth  with  it  as  a  leader,  making  a  vow, 
in  the  spirit  of  ancient  chivalry,  never  to  return 
to  their  homes  until  they  should  have  delivered 
the  count  from  his  captivity. 

When  the  cavaliers  recognized  the  count,  they 
put  up  shouts  of  joy,  and  kissed  his  hands  and  the 
hands  of  the  princess  in  token  of  devoted  loyalty. 
And  they  took  off  the  fetters  of  the  count  and 
placed  him  in  the  car  and  the  princess  beside 
him,  and  returned  joyfully  to  Castile. 

Vain  would  be  the  attempt  to  describe  the 
transports  of  the  multitude  as  Count  Fernan 
Gonzalez  entered  his  noble  capital  of  Burgos. 
The  Princess  Sancha,  also,  was  hailed  with  bless- 
ings wherever  she  passed,  as  the  deliverer  of  their 
lord  and  the  saviour  of  Castile,  and  shortly  after- 
ward her  nuptials  with  the  count  were  cele- 
brated with  feasting  and  rejoicing  and  tilts  and 
tournaments,  which  lasted  for  many  days. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

KING  GARCIA  CONFINED  IN  BURGOS  BY  THE 
COUNT. — THE  PRINCESS  INTERCEDES  FOR 
HIS  RELEASE. 

THE  rejoicings  for  the  marriage  of  Count  Fer- 
nan Gonzalez  with  the  beautiful  Princess  Sancha 
were  scarcely  finished  when  King  Garcia  the 
Trembler  came  with  a  powerful  army  to  revenge 
his  various  affronts.  The  count  sallied  forth  to 
meet  him,  and  a  bloody  and  doubtful  battle 
ensued.  The  Navarrese  at  length  were  routed, 
and  the  king  was  wounded  and  taken  prisoner  in 
single  combat  by  Count  Fernan,  who  brought 
him  to  Burgos  and  put  him  in  close  confinement. 

The  Countess  Dofia  Sancha  was  now  almost 
as  much  afflicted  at  the  captivity  of  her  brother 
as  she  had  been  at  that  of  the  count,  and  inter- 
ceded with  her  husband  for  his  release.  The 
count,  however,  retained  too  strong  a  recollection 
of  the  bad  faith  of  King  Garcia  and  of  his  own 
treacherous  and  harsh  imprisonment  to  be  easily 
moved,  and  the  king  was  kept  in  duress  for  a 
considerable  time.  The  countess  then  interested 
the  principal  cavaliers  in  her  suit,  reminding 
them  of  the  services  she  had  rendered  them  in 
aiding  the  escape  of  their  lord.  Through  their 
united  intercessions  the  count  was  induced  to 
relent ;  so  King  Garcia  the  Trembler  was  re- 
leased and  treated  with  great  honor,  and  sent 
back  to  his  dominions  with  a  retinue  befitting 
his  rank. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

OF  THE  EXPEDITION  AGAINST  THE  ANCIENT 
CITY  OF  SYLO. — THE  UNWITTING  TRESPASS 
OF  THE  COUNT  INTO  A  CONVENT,  AND  HIS 
COMPUNCTION  THEREUPON. 

VOLUMES  would  it  take  to  follow  the  Count 
Fernan  Gonzalez  in  his  heroic  achievements 
against  the  infidels — achievements  which  give  to 
sober  history  almost  the  air  of  fable.  I  forbear 
to  dwell  at  large  upon  one  of  his  campaigns, 
wherein  he  scoured  the  Valley  of  Laguna  ;  passed 
victoriously  along  the  banks  of  the  Douro,  build- 
ing towers  and  castles  to  keep  the  country  in 
subjection  ;  how  he  scaled  the  walls  of  the  castle 
of  Ormaz,  being  the  first  to  mount,  sword  in 


CHRONICLE  OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


455 


hand ;  how  by  the  valor  of  his  arm  he  captured 
the  city  of  Orma ;  how  he  took  the  town  of 
Sandoval,  the  origin  of  the  cavaliers  of  Sandoval, 
who  were  anciently  called  Salvadores  ;  how  he 
made  an  inroad  even  to  Madrid,  then  a  strongly 
fortified  village,  and  having  taken  and  sacked 
it,  returned  in  triumph  to  Burgos. 

But  it  would  be  wronging  the  memory  of  this 
great  and  good  cavalier  to  pass  in  silence  over 
one  of  his  exploits  in  which  he  gave  a  singular 
instance  of  his  piety.  This  was  in  an  expedition 
against  the  ancient  city  of  Sylo.  It  was  not  a 
place  of  much  value  in  itself,  being  situated  in  a 
cold  and  sterile  country,  but  it  had  become  a 
stronghold  of  the  Moors,  whence  they  carried  on 
their  warfare.  This  place  the  count  carried  by 
assault,  entering  it  in  full  armor,  on  his  steed, 
overturning  and  slaying  all  who  opposed  him. 
In  the  fury  of  his  career  he  rode  into  a  spacious 
edifice  which  he  supposed  to  be  a  mosque,  with 
the  pious  intention  of  slaying  every  infidel  he 
might  find  within.  On  looking  round,  however, 
great  was  his  astonishment  at  beholding  images 
of  saints,  the  blessed  cross  of  our  Saviour,  and 
various  other  sacred  objects,  which  announced  a 
church  devoted  to  the  veritable  faith.  Struck 
•with  remorse,  he  sprang  from  his  horse,  threw 
himself  upon  his  knees,  and  with  many  tears  im- 
plored pardon  of  God  for  the  sin  he  had  unknow- 
ingly committed.  While  he  was  yet  on  his 
knees,  several  monks  of  the  order  of  St.  Domi- 
nic approached,  meagre  in  looks  and  squalid  in 
attire,  but  hailing  him  with  great  joy  as  their 
deliverer.  In  sooth  this  was  a  convent  of  San 
Sebastian,  the  fraternity  of  which  had  remained 
captives  among  the  Moors,  supporting  themselves 
poorly  by  making  baskets,  but  permitted  to  con- 
tinue in  the  exercise  of  their  religion. 

Still  filled  with  pious  compunction  for  the  tres- 
pass he  had  made,  the  count  ordered  that  the 
shoes  should  be  taken  from  his  horse  and  nailed 
upon  the  door  of  the  church  ;  for  never,  said  he, 
shall  they  tread  any  other  ground  after  having 
trodden  this  holy  place.  From  that  day,  we  are 
told,  it  has  been  the  custom  to  nail  the  shoes  of 
horses  on  the  portal  of  that  convent — a  custom 
which  has  extended  to  many  other  places. 

The  worthy  Fray  Prudencia  de  Sandoval  re- 
cords a  marvellous  memento  of  the  expedition  of 
the  count  against  this  city,  which  remained,  he 
says,  until  his  day.  Not  far  from  the  place,  on 
the  road  which  passes  by  Lara,  is  to  be  seen  the 
print  of  his  horse's  hoofs  in  a  solid  rock,  which 
has  received  the  impression  as  though  it  had  been 
made  in  softened  wax.*  It  is  to  be  presumed  that 
the  horse's  hoofs  had  been  gifted  with  miraculous 
hardness  in  reward  to  the  count  for  his  pious  ob- 
lation of  the  shoes. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

OF  THE  MOORISH  HOST  THAT  CAME  UP  FROM 
CORDOVA,  AND  HOW  THE  COUNT  REPAIRED 
TO  THE  HERMITAGE  OF  SAN  PEDRO,  AND 
PRAYED  FOR  SUCCESS  AGAINST  THEM,  AND 
RECEIVED  ASSURANCE  OF  VICTORY  IN  A 
VISION. — BATTLE  OF  HAZINAS. 

THE  worthy  Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  from  whose 
manuscripts  this  memoir  is  extracted,  passes  by 
many  of  the  striking  and  heroic  deeds  of  the 
count,  which  crowd  the  pages  of  ancient  chroni- 

*  Sandoval,  p.  313. 


clers  ;  but  the  good  friar  ever  is  sure  to  dwell  with 
delight  upon  any  of  those  miraculous  occurrences 
which  took  place  in  Spain  in  those  days,  and 
which  showed  the  marked  interposition  of  Heaven 
in  behalf  of  the  Christian  warriors  in  their  battles 
with  the  infidels.  Such  was  the  renowned  battle 
of  Hazinas,  which,  says  Agapida,  for  its  miracu- 
lous events  is  worthy  of  eternal  blazon. 

Now  so  it  was  that  the  Moorish  king  of  Cor- 
dova had  summoned  all  the  faithful,  both  of 
Spain  and  Africa,  to  assist  him  in  recovering  the 
lands  wrested  from  him  by  the  unbelievers,  and 
especially  by  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  in  his  late 
victories ;  and  such  countless  legions  of  turbaned 
warriors  were  assembled  that  it  was  said  they 
covered  the  plains  of  Andalusia  like  swarms  of 
locusts. 

Hearing  of  their  threatening  approach,  the 
count  gathered  together  his  forces  at  Piedrafita, 
while  the  Moors  encamped  in  Hazinas.  When, 
however,  he  beheld  the  mighty  host  arrayed 
against  him,  his  heart  for  once  was  troubled  with 
evil  forebodings,  and  calling  to  mind  the  cheering 
prognostications  of  the  friar  Pelayo  on  a  like  oc- 
casion, he  resolved  to  repair  again  to  that  holy 
man  for  counsel.  Leaving  his  camp,  therefore, 
secretly,  he  set  out,  accompanied  by  two  cava- 
liers, to  seek  the  chapel  which  he  had  ordered  to 
be  built  at  the  hermitage  of  San  Pedro,  on  the 
mountain  overhanging  the  river  Arlanza,  but  when 
arrived  there  he  heard  to  his  great  grief  that  the 
worthy  friar  was  dead. 

Entering  the  chapel,  however,  he  knelt  down 
at  the  altar  and  prayed  for  success  in  the  coming 
fight ;  humbly  representing  that  he  had  never, 
like  many  of  the  kings  and  nobles  of  Spain,  done 
homage  to  the  infidels  and  acknowledged  them 
for  sovereigns.  The  count  remained  a  long  time 
at  prayer,  until  sleep  gradually  stole  over  him  ; 
and  as  he  lay  slumbering  before  the  altar  the 
holy  Fray  Pelayo  appeared  before  him  in  a  vision, 
clad  in  garments  as  white  as  snow.  "  Why  sleep- 
est  thou,  Fernan  Gonzalez?"  said  he,  "arise, 
and  go  forth,  and  know  that  thou  shalt  conquer 
those  Moors.  For,  inasmuch  as  thou  art  a  faith- 
ful vassal  of  the  Most  High,  he  has  commanded 
the  Apostle  San  lago  and  myself,  with  many  an- 
gels, to  come  to  thy  aid,  and  we  will  appear  in 
the  battle  clad  in  white  armor,  with  each  of  us  a 
red  cross  upon  our  pennon.  Therefore  arise,  I 
say,  and  go  hence  with  a  valiant  heart." 

The  count  awoke,  and  while  he  was  yet  mus- 
ing upon  the  vision  he  heard  a  voice  saying, 
"  Arise,  and  get  thee  hence  ;  why  dost  thou  lin- 
ger ?  Separate  thy  host  into  three  divisions  :  enter 
the  field  of  battle  by  the  east,  with  the  smallest 
division,  and  I  will  be  with  thee  ;  and  let  the 
second  division  enter  by  the  west,  and  that  shall 
be  aided  by  San  lago  ;  and  let  the  third  division 
enter  by  the  north.  Know  that  I  am  San  Millan 
who  come  to  thee  with  this  message." 

The  count  departed  joyfully  from  the  chapel, 
and  returned  to  his  army ;  and  when  he  told  his 
troops  of  this,  his  second  visit  to  the  hermitage, 
and  of  the  vision  he  had  had,  and  how  the  holy 
friar  San  Pelayo  had  again  assured  him  of  vic- 
tory, their  hearts  were  lifted  up,  and  they  re- 
joiced to  serve  under  a  leader  who  had  such 
excellent  counsellors  in  war. 

In  the  evening  preceding  the  battle  Don  Fer- 
nan Gonzalez  divided  his  forces  as  he  had  been 
ordered.  The  first  division  was  composed  of 
two  hundred  horsemen  and  six  thousand  infantry  ; 
hardy  mountaineers,  light  of  foot  and  of  great 
valor.  In  the  advance  were  Don  Gustios  Gon- 


456 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


zalez  of  Salas,  and  his  seven  sons  and  two 
nephews,  and  his  brother  Ruy  Velasquez,  and  a 
valiant  cavalier  named  Gonzalo  Dias. 

The  second  division  was  led  by  Don  Lope  de 
Biscaya,  with  the  people  of  Burueba  and  Tre- 
vino,  and  Old  Castile  and  Castro  and  the  Astu- 
rias.  Two  hundred  horsemen  and  six  thousand 
infantry. 

The  third  division  was  led  by  the  count  him- 
self, and  with  him  went  Ruy  Cavia,  and  Nufto 
Cavia  and  the  Velascos,  whom  the  count  that 
day  dubbed  knights,  and  twenty  esquires  of  the 
count,  whom  he  had  likewise  knighted.  His 
division  consisted  of  four  hundred  and  fifty  horse 
and  fifteen  hundred  foot ;  and  he  told  his  men 
that  if  they  should  not  conquer  the  Moors  on  the 
following  day,  they  should  draw  off  from  the 
battle  when  he  gave  the  word.  Late  at  night, 
when  all  the  camp,  excepting  the  sentinels  and 
guards,  were  buried  in  sleep,  a  light  suddenly 
illumined  the  heavens,  and  a  great  serpent  was 
seen  in  the  air,  wounded  and  covered  with  blood, 
and  vomiting  flames,  and  making  a  loud  hissing 
that  awakened  all  the  soldiers.  They  rushed  out 
of  their  tents,  and  ran  hither  and  thither,  running 
against  each  other  in  their  affright.  Count  Fer- 
nan  Gonzalez  was  awakened  by  their  outcries,  but 
before  he  came  forth  the  serpent  had  disappeared. 
He  rebuked  the  terrors  of  his  people,  represent- 
ing to  them  that  the  Moors  were  great  necroman- 
cers, and  by  their  arts  could  raise  devils  to  their 
aid ;  and  that  some  Moorish  astrologer  had 
doubtless  raised  this  spectrum  to  alarm  them  ; 
but  he  bade  them  be  of  good  heart,  since  they 
had  San  lago  on  their  side,  and  might  set  Moor, 
astrologer,  and  devil  at  defiance. 

In  the  first  day's  fight  Don  Fernan  fought 
hand  to  hand  with  a  powerful  Moor,  who  had 
desired  to  try  his  prowess  with  him.  It  was  an 
obstinate  contest,  in  which  the  Moor  was  slain; 
but  the  count  was  so  badly  wounded  that  he  fell 
to  the  earth,  and  had  not  his  men  surrounded  and 
defended  him,  he  would  have  been  slain  or  cap- 
tured. The  battle  lasted  all  day  long,  and  Gus- 
tios  Gonzalez  and  his  kindred  warriors  showed 
prodigies  of  valor.  Don  Fernan,  having  had  his 
wounds  stanched,  remounted  his  horse  and  gal- 
loped about,  giving  courage  to  his  men  ;  but  he 
was  covered  with  dust  and  blood,  and  so  hoarse 
that  he  could  no  longer  be  heard.  The  sun  went 
down,  the  Moors  kept  on  fighting,  confiding  in 
their  great  numbers.  The  count,  seeing  the 
night  approaching,  ordered  the  trumpets  to  be 
sounded,  and,  collecting  his  troops,  made  one 
general  charge  on  the  Moors,  and  drove  them 
from  the  field.  He  then  drew  off  his  men  to  their 
tents,  where  the  weary  troops  found  refreshment 
and  repose,  though  they  slept  all  night  on  their 
arms. 

On  the  second  day  the  count  rose  before  the 
dawn,  and  having  attended  mass  like  a  good 
Christian,  attended  next  to  his  horses,  like  a  good 
cavalier,  seeing  with  his  own  eyes  that  they  were 
well  fed  and  groomed,  and  prepared  for  the  field. 
The  battle  this  day  was  obstinate  as  the  day  be- 
fore, with  great  valor  and  loss  on  either  side. 

On  the  third  day  the  count  led  forth  his  forces 
at  an  early  hour,  raising  his  silver  standard  of 
the  cross,  and  praying  devoutly  for  aid.  Then 
lowering  their  lances,  the  Castilians  shouted  San 
lago  !  San  lago  I  and  rushed  to  the  attack. 

Don  Gustios  Gonzalo  de  Salas,  the  leader  of 
one  of  the  divisions,  made  a  lane  into  the  centre 
of  the  Moorish  host,  dealing  death  on  either  side. 
He  was  met  by  a  Moorish  cavalier  of  powerful 


frame.  Covering  themselves  with  their  shields, 
they  attacked  each  other  with  great  fury  ;  but 
the  days  of  Gustios  Gonzalo  were  numbered, 
for  the  Moor  slew  him,  and  with  him  fell  a 
nephew  of  Count  Fernan,  and  many  of  his  prin- 
cipal cavaliers. 

Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  encountered  the  Moor 
who  had  just  slain  his  friend.  The  infidel  would 
have  avoided  him,  having  heard  that  never  man 
escaped  alive  from  a  conflict  with  him  ;  but  the 
count  gave  him  a  furious  thrust  with  his  lance, 
which  stretched  him  dead  upon  the  field. 

The  Moors,  however,  continued  to  press  the 
count  sorely,  and  their  numbers  threatened  to 
overwhelm  him.  Then  he  put  up  a  prayer  for 
the  aid  promised  in  his  vision,  and  of  a  sudden 
the  Apostle  San  lago  appeared,  with  a  great  and 
shining  company  of  angels  in  white,  bearing  the 
device  of  a  red  cross,  and  all  rushing  upon  the 
Moors.  The  Moors  were  dismayed  at  the  sight 
of  this  reinforcement  to  the  enemy.  The  Chris- 
tians, on  the  other  hand,  recovered  their  forces, 
knowing  the  Apostle  San  lago  to  be  at  hand. 
They  charged  the  Moors  with  new  vigor,  and 
put  them  to  flight,  and  pursued  them  for  two 
days,  killing  and  making  captive.  They  then 
returned  and  gathered  together  the  bodies  of  the 
Christians  who  had  been  slain,  and  buried  them 
in  the  chapel  of  San  Pedro  of  Arlanza  and  in 
other  hermitages.  The  bodies  of  the  Moors 
were  piled  up  and  covered  with  earth,  forming  a 
mound  which  is  still  to  be  seen  on  the  field  of 
battle. 

Some  have  ascribed  to  the  signal  worn  in  this 
battle  by  the  celestial  warriors  the  origin  of  the 
Cross  of  Calatrava. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  COUNT  IMPRISONED  BY  THE  KING  OF  LEON 
— THE  COUNTESS  CONCERTS  HIS  ESCAPE. — 
LEON  AND  CASTILE  UNITED  BY  THE  MAR- 
RIAGE OF  THE  PRINCE  ORDOXO  WITH  UR- 
RACA,  THE  DAUGHTER  OF  THE  COUNT  BY 
HIS  FIRST  WIFE. 

NOT  long  after  this  most  renowned  and  marvel- 
lous battle,  a  Moorish  captain  named  Aceyfa  be- 
came a  vassal  of  the  Count  Don  Fernan.  Under 
his  protection,  and  that  of  a  rich  and  powerful 
Castilian  cavalier  named  Diego  Munon,  he  re- 
built Salamanca  and  Ledesma,  and  several  places 
on  the  river  Tormes,  which  had  been  desolated 
and  deserted  in  times  past. 

Ramiro  the  Second,  who  was  at  this  time  King 
of  Leon,  was  alarmed  at  seeing  a  strong  line  of 
Moorish  fortresses  erected  along  the  borders  of 
his  territories,  and  took  the  field  with  an  army  to 
drive  the  Moor  Aceyfa  from  the  land.  The  proud 
spirit  of  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  was  aroused  at 
this  attack  upon  his  Moorish  vassal,  which  he 
considered  an  indignity  offered  to  himself;  so  be- 
ing seconded  by  Don  Diego  Munon,  he  marched 
forth  with  his  chivalry  to  protect  the  Moor.  In 
the  present  instance  he  had  trusted  to  his  own 
head,  and  had  neglected  to  seek  advice  of  saint 
or  hermit  ;  so  his  army  was  defeated  by  King 
Ramiro,  and  himself  and  Don  Diego  Munon  taken 
prisoner.  The  latter  was  sent  in  chains  to  the 
castle  of  Gordon  ;  but  the  count  was  carried  to 
Leon,  where  he  was  confined  in  a  tower  of  the 


CHRONICLE  OF  FERNAN  GONZALEZ. 


457 


wall,  which  to  this  day  is  pointed  out  as  his 
prison.* 

All  Castile  was  thrown  into  grief  and  conster- 
nation by  this  event,  and  lamentations  were  heard 
throughout  the  land,  as  though  the  count  had 
been  dead.  The  countess,  however,  did  not 
waste  time  in  idle  tears,  for  she  was  a  lady  of 
most  valiant  spirit.  She  forthwith  assembled  five 
hundred  cavaliers,  chosen  men  of  tried  loyalty 
and  devotion  to  the  count.  They  met  in  the 
chapel  of  the  palace,  and  took  an  oath  upon  the 
Holy  Evangelists  to  follow  the  countess  through 
all  difficulties  and  dangers,  and  to  obey  implicitly 
all  her  commands  for  the  rescue  of  their  lord. 
With  this  band  the  countess  departed  secretly 
at  nightfall,  and  travelled  rapidly  until  morning, 
when  they  left  the  roads,  and  took  to  the  moun- 
tains, lest  their  march  should  be  discovered.  Ar- 
rived near  Leon,  she  halted  her  band  in  a  thick 
wood  in  the  mountain  of  Samosa  where  she  or- 
dered them  to  remain  in  secrecy.  Then  clothing 
herself  as  a  pilgrim  with  her  staff  and  pannier,  she 
sent  word  to  King  Ramiro  that  she  was  on  a  pil- 
grimage to  San  lago,  and  entreated  that  she  might 
have  permission  to  visit  her  husband  in  his  prison. 
King  Ramiro  not  merely  granted  her  request, 
but  sallied  forth  above  a  league  from  the  city 
with  a  great  retinue  to  do  her  honor.  So  the 
countess  entered  a  second  time  the  prison  where 
the  count  lay  in  chains,  and  stood  before  him  as 
his  protecting  angel.  At  sight  of  him  in  this  mis- 
erable and  dishonored  state,  however,  the  valor 
of  spirit  which  had  hitherto  sustained  her  gave 
way,  and  tears  flowed  from  her  eyes.  The  count 
received  her  joyfully,  and  reproached  her  with 
her  tears  ;  "  for  it  becomes  us,"  said  he,  "  to  sub- 
mit to  what  is  imposed  upon  us  by  God." 

The  countess  now  sent  to  entreat  the  king  that 
while  she  remained  with  the  count  his  chains 
should  be  taken  off.  The  king  again  granted  her 
request ;  and  the  count  was  freed  from  his  irons 
and  an  excellent  bed  prepared  in  his  prison. 

The  countess  remained  with  him  all  night  and 
concerted  his  escape.  Before  it  was  daylight  she 
gave  him  her  pilgrim's  dress  and  staff,  and  the 
count  went  forth  from  the  chamber  disguised  as 
his  wife.  The  porter  at  the  outer  portal,  think- 
ing it  to  be  the  countess,  would  have  waited  for 
orders  from  the  king  ;  but  the  count,  in  a  feigned 
voice,  entreated  not  to  be  detained,  lest  he  should 
not  be  able  to  perform  his  pilgrimage.  The  por- 
ter, mistrusting  no  deceit,  opened  the  door.  The 
count  issued  forth,  repaired  to  a  place  pointed  out 
by  the  countess,  where  the  two  cavaliers  awaited 
him  with  a  fleet  horse.  They  all  sallied  quietly 
forth  from  the  city  at  the  opening  of  the  gates,  un- 
til they  found  themselves  clear  of  the  walls,  when 
they  put  spurs  to  their  horses  and  made  their 
way  to  the  mountain  of  Samosa.  Here  the  count 
was  received  with  shouts  of  joy  by  the  cavaliers 
whom  the  countess  had  left  there  in  concealment. 

As  the  day  advanced  the  keeper  of  the  prison 
entered  the  apartment  of  Don  Fernan,  but  was 
astonished  to  find  there  the  beautiful  countess  in 
place  of  her  warrior  husband.  He  conducted  her 
before  the  king,  accusing  her  of  the  fraud  by 
which  she  had  effected  the  escape  of  the  count. 
King  Ramiro  was  greatly  incensed,  and  he  de- 


*  In  the  Cronica  General  de  Espafia,  this  imprison- 
ment is  said  to  have  been  by  King  Sancho  the  Fat : 
but  the  cautious  Agapida  goes  according  to  his  favorite 
Sandoval  in  attributing  it  to  King  Ramiro,  and  in  BO 
doing  he  is  supported  by  the  Chronicle  of  Bleda.  L.  3, 
c.  19. 


manded  of  the  countess  how  she  dared  to  do  such 
an  act.  "  I  dared,"  replied  she,  "  because  I  saw 
my  husband  in  misery,  and  felt  it  my  duty  to 
relieve  him  ;  and  I  dared  because  I  was  the 
daughter  of  a  king,  and  the  wife  of  a  distin- 
guished cavalier  ;  as  such  I  trust  to  your  chivalry 
to  treat  me." 

The  king  was  charmed  with  her  intrepidity. 
"  Senora,"  said  he,  "  you  have  acted  well  and 
like  a  noble  lady,  and  it  will  redound  to  your  land 
and  honor."  So  he  commanded  that  she  should 
be  conducted  to  her  husband  in  a  manner  befit- 
ting a  lady  of  high  and  noble  rank  ;  and  the 
count  was  overjoyed  to  receive  her  in  safety,  and 
they  returned  to  their  dominions  and  entered 
Burgos  at  the  head  of  their  train  of  cavaliers, 
amidst  the  transports  and  acclamations  of  their 
people.  And  King  Ramiro  sought  the  amity  of 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  and  proposed  that  they 
should  unite  their  houses  by  some  matrimonial 
alliance  which  should  serve  as  a  bond  of  mutual 
security.  The  count  gladly  listened  to  his  pro- 
posals. He  had  a  fair  daughter  named  Urraca, 
by  his  first  wife,  who  was  now  arrived  at  a  mar- 
riageable age  ;  so  it  was  agreed  that  nuptials 
should  be  solemnized  between  her  and  the  Prince 
Ordono,  son  of  King  Ramiro  ;  and  all  Leon  and 
Castile  rejoiced  at  this  union,  which  promised 
tranquillity  to  the  land. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MOORISH  INCURSION  INTO  CASTILE. — CATTLE 
OF  SAN  ESTEVAN. — OF  PASCUAL  VIVAS  AND 
THE  MIRACLE  THAT  BEFELL  HIM. — DEATH 
OF  ORDOSO  III. 

FOR  several  succeeding  years  of  the  career 
of  this  most  redoubtable  cavalier,  the  most  edi- 
fying and  praiseworthy  traces  which  remain,  says 
Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  are  to  be  found  in  the 
archives  of  various  monasteries,  consisting  of 
memorials  of  pious  gifts  and  endowments  made 
by  himself  and  his  countess,  Dona  Sancha. 

In  the  process  of  time  King  Ramiro  died,  and 
was  succeeded  by  his  son  Ordono  III.,  the  same 
who  had  married  Urraca,  the  daughter  of  Count 
Fernan.  He  was  surnamed  the  Fierce,  either 
from  his  savage  temper  or  savage  aspect.  He 
had  a  step-brother  named  Don  Sancho,  nephew, 
by  the  mother's  side,  of  King  Garcia  of  Navarre, 
surnamed  the  Trembler.  This  Don  Sancho  rose 
in  arms  against  Ordono  at  the  very  outset  of  his 
reign,  seeking  to  deprive  him  of  his  crown.  He 
applied  for  assistance  to  his  uncle  Garcia  and  to 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  and  it  is  said  both  fa- 
vored his  pretensions.  Nay,  the  count  soon  ap- 
peared in  the  field  in  company  with  King  Garcia 
the  Trembler,  in  support  of  Prince  Sancho.  It 
may  seem  strange  that  he  should  take  up  arms 
against  his  own  son-in-law  ;  and  so  it  certainly 
appeared  to  Ordofto  III.,  for  he  was  so  incensed 
against  the  count  that  he  repudiated  his  wife 
Urraca  and  sent  her  back  to  her  father,  telling 
him  that  since  he  would  not  acknowledge  him  a 
king,  he  should  not  have  him  for  son-in-law. 

The  kingdom  now  became  a  prey  to  civil  wars  ; 
the  restless  part  of  the  subjects  of  King  Ordofio 
rose  in  rebellion,  and  everything  was  in  confusion. 
King  Ordono  succeeded,  however,  in  quelling  the 
rebellion,  and  defended  himself  so  ably  against 
King  Garcia  and  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  that 
they  returned  home  without  effecting  their  object. 


458 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


About  this  time,  say  the  records  of  Compos- 
tello,  the  sinful  dissensions  of  the  Christians 
brought  on  them  a  visible  and  awful  scourge  from 
Heaven.  A  great  flame,  or,  as  it  were,  a  cloud 
of  fire,  passed  throughout  the  land,  burning 
towns,  destroying  men  and  beasts,  and  spread- 
ing horror  and  devastation  even  over  the  sea.  It 
passed  over  Zamora,  consuming  a  great  part  of 
the  place  ;  it  scorched  Castro  Xeriz  likewise,  and 
Brebiesco  and  Pan  Corvo  in  its  progress,  and  in 
Burgos  one  hundred  houses  were  consumed. 

"These,"  says  the  worthy  Agapida,  "were 
fiery  tokens  of  the  displeasure  of  Heaven  at  the 
sinful  conduct  of  the  Christians  in  warring  upon 
each  other,  instead  of  joining  their  arms  like 
brethren  in  the  righteous  endeavor  to  extirpate 
the  vile  sect  of  Mahomet." 

While  the  Christians  were  thus  fighting  among 
themselves,  the  Moors,  taking  advantage  of  their 
discord,  came  with  a  great  army,  and  made  an 
incursion  into  Castile  as  far  as  Burgos.  King 
Ordono  and  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  alarmed  at 
the  common  danger,  came  to  a  reconciliation, 
and  took  arms  'together  against  the  Moors ; 
though  it  does  not  appear  that  the  king  received 
again  his  repudiated  wife  Urraca.  These  con- 
federate princes  gave  the  Moors  a  great  battle 
near  to  San  Estevan.  "  This  battle,"  says  Fray 
Antonio  Agapida,  "  is  chiefly  memorable  for  a 
miracle  which  occurred  there,"  and  which  is  re- 
corded by  the  good  friar  with  an  unction  and 
perfect  credence  worthy  of  a  monkish  chronicler. 

The  Christians  were  incastellated  at  San  Este- 
van de  Gormaz,  which  is  near  the  banks  of  the 
Douro.  The  Moors  had  possession  of  the  for- 
tress of  Gormaz,  about  a  league  further  up  the 
river  on  a  lofty  and  rocky  height. 

The  battle  commenced  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez,  however,  before  taking 
the  field,  repaired  with  his  principal  cavaliers  to 
the  church,  to  attend  the  first  morning's  mass, 
Now,  at  this  time,  there  was  in  the  service  of  the 
count  a  brave  cavalier  named  Pascual  Vivas,  who 
was  as  pious  as  he  was  brave,  and  would  pray 
with  as  much  fervor  and  obstinacy  as  he  would 
fight.  This  cavalier  made  it  a  religious  rule  with 
himself,  or  rather  had  made  a  solemn  vow,  that, 
whenever  he  entered  a  church  in  the  morning,  he 
would  on  no  account  leave  it  until  all  the  masses 
were  finished. 

On  the  present  occasion  the  firmness  of  this 
brave  but  pious  cavalier  was  put  to  a  severe  proof. 
When  the  first  mass  was  finished,  the  count  and 
his  cavaliers  rose  and  sallied  from  the  church  in 
clanking  armor,  and  soon  after  the  sound  of 
trumpet  and  quick  tramp  of  steed  told  that  they 
were  off  to  the  encounter.  Pascual  Vivas,  how- 
ever, remained  kneeling  all  in  armor  before  the 
altar,  waiting,  according  to  custom,  until  all  the 
masses  should  be  finished.  The  masses  that 
morning  were  numerous,  and  hour  after  hour 
passed  away  ;  yet  still  the  cavalier  remained 
kneeling  all  in  armor,  with  weapon  in  hand,  yet  so 
zealous  in  his  devotion  that  he  never  turned  his 
head. 

All  this  while  the  esquire  of  the  cavalier  was 
at  the  door  of  the  church,  holding  his  war-horse, 
and  the  esquire  beheld  with  surprise  the  count 
and  his  warriors  depart,  while  his  lord  remained 
in  the  chapel ;  and,  from  the  height  on  which  the 
chapel  stood,  he  could  see  the  Christian  host  en- 
counter the  Moors  at  the  ford  of  the  river,  and 
could  hear  the  distant  sound  of  trumpets  and  din 
of  battle  ;  and  at  the  sound  the  war-horse  pricked 
up  his  ears,  snuffed  the  air,  and  pawed  the  earth, 


and  showed  all  the  eagerness  of  a  noble  steed  to 
be  among  the  armed  men,  but  still  Pascual  Vivas 
came  not  out  of  the  chapel.  The  esquire  was 
wroth,  and  blushed  for  his  lord,  for  he  thought  it 
was  through  cowardice  and  not  piety  that  he  re- 
mained in  the  chapel  while  his  comrades  were 
fighting  in  the  field. 

At  length  the  masses  were  finished,  and  Pascual 
Vivas  was  about  to  sally  forth  when  horsemen 
came  riding  up  the  hill  with  shouts  of  victory,  for 
the  battle  was  over  and  the  Moors  completely 
vanquished. 

When  Pascual  Vivas  heard  this  he  was  so 
troubled  in  mind  that  he  dared  not  leave  the 
chapel  nor  come  into  the  presence  of  the  count, 
for  he  said  to  himself,  "  Surely  I  shall  be  looked 
upon  as  a  recreant  knight,  who  have  hidden  my- 
self in  the  hour  of  danger."  Shortly,  however, 
came  some  of  his  fellow-cavaliers,  summoning  him 
to  the  presence  of  the  count ;  and  as  he  went  with 
a  beating  heart,  they  lauded  him  for  the  valor  he 
had  displayed  and  the  great  services  he  had 
rendered,  saying  that  to  the  prowess  of  his  arm 
they  owed  the  victory.  The  good  knight,  imagin- 
ing they  were  scoffing  at  him,  felt  still  more  cast 
down  in  spirit,  and  entered  the  presence  of  the 
count  covered  with  confusion.  Here  again  he 
was  received  with  praises  and  caresses,  at  which 
he  was  greatly  astonished,  but  still  thought  it  all 
done  in  mockery.  When  the  truth  came  to  be 
known,  however,  all  present  were  filled  with 
wonder,  for  it  appeared  as  if  this  cavalier  had 
been,  at  the  same  moment,  in  the  chapel,  and  in 
the  field  ;  for  while  he  remained  on  his  knees  be- 
fore the  altar,  with  his  steed  pawing  the  earth  at 
the  door,  a  warrior  exactly  resembling  him,  with 
the  same  arms,  device,  and  steed,  had  appeared  in 
the  hottest  of  the  fight,  penetrating  and  over- 
throwing whole  squadrons  of  Moors  ;  that  he  had 
cut  his  way  to  the  standard  of  the  enemy,  killed 
the  standard-bearer,  and  carried  off  the  bannerin 
triumph ;  that  his  pourpoint  and  coat  of  mail 
were  cut  to  pieces,  and  his  horse  covered  with 
wounds  ;  yet  still  he  fought  on,  and  through  his 
valor  chiefly  the  victory  was  obtained. 

What  more  moved  astonishment  was  that  for 
every  wound  received  by  the  warrior  and  his 
steed  in  the  field,  there  appeared  marks  on  the 
pourpoint  and  coat  of  mail  and  upon  the  steed  of 
Pascual  Vivas,  so  that  he  had  the  semblance  of 
having  been  in  the  severest  press  of  the  battle. 

The  matter  was  now  readily  explained  by  the 
worthy  friars  who  followed  the  armies  in  those 
days,  and  who  were  skilful  in  expounding  the 
miracles  daily  occurring  in  those  holy  wars.  A 
miraculous  intervention  had  been  vouchsafed  to 
Pascual  Vivas.  That  his  piety  in  remaining  at 
his  prayers  might  not  put  him  to  shame  before 
sinful  men,  an  angel  bearing  his  form  and  sem- 
blance had  taken  his  place  in  battle,  and  fought 
while  he  prayed. 

The  matter  being  thus  explained,  all  present 
were  filled  with  pious  admiration,  and  Pascual 
Vivas,  if  he  ceased  to  be  extolled  as  a  warrior, 
came  near  being  canonized  as  a  saint.* 


*  Exactly  the  same  kind  of  miracle  is  recorded  as 
happening  in  the  same  place  to  a  cavalier  of  the  name 
of  Don  Fernan  Antolenez,  in  the  service  of  the  Count 
Garcia  -Fernandez.  Fray  Antonio  Agapida  has  no 
doubt  that  the  same  miracle  did  actually  happen  to  both 
cavaliers;  "for  in  those  days,"  says  he,  "there  was 
such  a  demand  for  miracles  that  the  same  had  fre- 
quently to  be  repeated;"  witness  the  repeated  ap- 
pearance of  San  lago  in  precisely  the  same  manner,  to 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


459 


King  Ordono  III.  did  not  long  survive  this 
battle.  Scarce  had  he  arrived  at  Zamora  on  his 
way  homeward,  when  he  was  seized  with  a  mor- 
tal malady  of  which  he  died.  He  was  succeeded 
by  his  brother  Don  Sancho,  the  same  who  had 
formerly  endeavored  to  dispossess  him  of  his 
throne. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

KING  SANCHO  THE  FAT.  —  OF  THE  HOMAGE  HE 
EXACTED  FROM  COUNT  FERNAN  GONZALEZ, 
AND  OF  THE  STRANGE  BARGAIN  THAT  HE 
MADE  WITH  HIM  FOR  THE  PURCHASE  OF 
HIS  HORSE  AND  FALCON. 

KING  SANCHO  I.,  on  ascending  the  throne, 
held  a  cortes  at  Leon,  where  all  the  great  men 
of  the  kingdom  and  the  princes  who  owed  alle- 
giance to  him  were  expected  to  attend  and  pay 
homage.  As  the  court  of  Leon  was  excessively 
tenacious  of  its  claim  to  sovereignty  over  Castile, 
the  absence  of  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  was 
noticed  with  great  displeasure  by  the  king,  who 
sent  missives  to  him  commanding  his  attendance. 
The  count  being  proud  of  heart,  and  standing 
much  upon  the  independence  of  Castile,  was  un- 
willing to  kiss  the  hand  of  any  one  in  token  of 
vassalage.  He  was  at  length  induced  to  stifle  his 
repugnance  and  repair  to  the  court,  but  he  went 
in  almost  regal  style  and  with  a  splendid  retinue, 
more  like  a  sovereign  making  a  progress  through 
his  dominions. 

As  he  approached  the  city  of  Leon,  King 
Sancho  came  forth  in  great  state  to  receive  him, 
and  they  met  apparently  as  friends,  but  there 
was  enmity  against  each  other  in  their  hearts. 

The  rich  and  gallant  array  with  which  Count 
Fernan  made  his  entry  in  Leon  was  the  theme  of 
every  tongue  ;  but  nothing  attracted  more  notice 
than  a  falcon  thoroughly  trained,  which  he  car- 
ried on  his  hand,  and  an  Arabian  horse  of  won- 
derful beauty,  which  he  had  gained  in  his  wars 
with  the  Moors.  King  Sancho  was  seized  with 
a  vehement  desire  to  possess  this  horse  and  fal- 
con, and  offered  to  purchase  them  of  the  count. 
Don  Fernan  haughtily  declined  to  enter  into 
traffic  ;  but  offered  them  to  the  monarch  as  a  gift. 
The  king  was  equally  punctilious  in  refusing  to 
accept  a  favor ;  but  as  monarchs  do  not  easily 
forego  anything  on  which  they  have  set  their 
hearts,  it  became  evident  to  Count  Fernan  that 
it  was  necessary  for  the  sake  of  peace,  to  part 
with  his  horse  and  falcon.  To  save  his  dignity, 
however,  he  asked  a  price  corresponding  to  his 
rank ;  for  it  was  beneath  a  cavalier,  he  said,  to 
sell  his  things  cheap,  like  a  mean  man.  He  de- 
manded, therefore,  one  thousand  marks  of  silver 
for  the  horse  and  falcon, — to  be  paid  on  a  stip- 
ulated day ;  if  not  paid  on  that  day  the  price  to 
be  doubled  on  the  next,  and  on  each  day's  fur- 
ther delay  the  price  should  in  like  manner  be 
doubled.  To  these  terms  the  king  gladly  con- 
sented, and  the  terms  were  specified  in  a  written 
agreement,  which  was  duly  signed  and  witnessed. 
The  king  thus  gained  the  horse  and  falcon,  but  it 
will  be  hereinafter  shown  that  this  indulgence  of 
his  fancy  cost  him  dear. 

This  eager  desire  for  an  Arabian  steed  ap- 
pears the  more  singular  in  Sancho  the  First,  from 

save  Christian  armies  from  imminent  danger  of  defeat, 
and  achieve  wonderful  victories  over  the  infidels,  as  we 
find  recorded  throughout  the  Spanish  chronicles. 


his  being  so  corpulent  that  he  could  not  sit  on 
horseback.  Hence  he  is  commonly  known  in 
history  by  the  appellation  of  King  Sancho  the 
Fat.  His  unwieldy  bulk,  also,  may  be  one  reason 
why  he  soon  lost  the  favor  of  his  warrior  subjects, 
who  looked  upon  him  as  a  mere  trencherman  and 
bed-presser,  and  not  fitted  to  command  men  who 
lived  in  the  saddle,  and  had  rather  fight  than 
either  eat  or  sleep. 

King  Sancho  saw  that  he  might  soon  have 
hard  fighting  to  maintain  his  throne  ;  and  how 
could  he  figure  as  a  warrior  who  could  not  mount 
on  horseback.  In  his  anxiety  he  repaired  to  his 
uncle  Garcia,  king  of  Navarre,  surnamed  the 
Trembler,  who  was  an  exceeding  meagre  man, 
and  asked  counsel  of  him  what  he  should  do  to 
cure  himself  of  this  troublesome  corpulency. 
Garcia  the  Trembler  was  totally  at  a  loss  for  a 
recipe,  his  own  leanness  being  a  gift  of  Nature  ; 
he  advised  him,  however,  to  repair  to  Abderah- 
man,  the  Miramamolin  of  Spain  and  King  of 
Cordova,  with  whom  he  was  happily  at  peace, 
and  consult  with  him,  and  seek  advice  of  the 
Arabian  physicians  resident  at  Cordova — the 
Moors  being  generally  a  spare  and  active  people, 
and  the  Arabian  physicians  skilful  above  all 
others  in  the  treatment  of  diseases. 

King  Sancho  the  Fat,  therefore,  sent  amicable 
messages  beforehand  to  the  Moorish  miramamo- 
lin,  and  followed  them  as  fast  as  his  corpulency 
would  permit ;  and  he  was  well  received  by  the 
Moorish  sovereign,  and  remained  for  a  long  time 
at  Cordova,  diligently  employed  in  decreasing  his 
rotundity. 

While  the  corpulent  king  was  thus  growing 
leaner,  discontent  broke  ont  among  his  subjects 
at  home  ;  and,  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  taking 
advantage  of  it,  stirred  up  an  insurrection,  and 
placed  upon  the  throne  of  Leon  Ordono  the 
Fourth,  surnamed  the  Bad,  who  was  a  kinsman 
of  the  late  King  Ordoflo  III.,  and  he  moreover 
gave  him  his  daughter  for  wife — his  daughter 
Urraca,  the  repudiated  wife  of  the  late  king. 

If  the  good  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  supposed 
he  had  fortified  himself  by  this  alliance,  and  that 
his  daughter  was  now  fixed  for  the  second  time, 
and  more  firmly  than  ever,  on  the  throne  of 
Leon,  he  was  grievously  deceived  ;  for  Sancho  I. 
returned  from  Cordova  at  the  head  of  a  powerful 
host  of  Moors,  and  was  no  longer  to  be  called 
the  Fat,  for  he  had  so  well  succeeded  under  the 
regimen  prescribed  by  the  miramamolin,  and  his 
Arabian  physicians,  that  he  could  vault  into  the 
saddle  with  merely  putting  his  hand  upon  the 
pommel. 

Ordono  IV.  was  a  man  of  puny  heart ;  no 
sooner  did  he  hear  of  the  approach  of  King 
Sancho,  and  of  his  marvellous  leanness  and  agil- 
ity, than  he  was  seized  with  terror,  and  abandon- 
ing his  throne  and  his  twice-repudiated  spouse, 
Urraca.  he  made  for  the  mountains  of  Asturias, 
or,  as  others  assert,  was  overtaken  by  the  Moors 
and  killed  with  lances. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
FURTHER  OF  THE  HORSE  AND  FALCON. 

KING  SANCHO  I.,  having  re-established  him- 
self on  the  throne,  and  recovered  the  good-will 
of  his  subjects  by  his  leanness  and  horseman- 
ship, sent  a  stern  message  to  Count  Fernan  Gon- 
zalez to  come  to  his  cortes,  or  resign  his  count- 


460 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNAN   GONZALEZ. 


ship.  The  count  was  exceedingly  indignant  at 
this  order,  and  feared,  moreover,  that  some  in- 
dignity or  injury  would  be  offered  him  should  he 
repair  to  Leon.  He  made  the  message  known  to 
his  principal  cavaliers,  and  requested  their  ad- 
vice. Most  of  them  were  of  opinion  that  he 
should  not  go  to  the  cortes.  Don  Fernan  de- 
clared, however,  that  he  would  not  act  disloyally 
in  omitting  to  do  that  which  the  counts  of  Cas- 
tile had  always  performed,  although  he  felt  that 
he  incurred  the  risk  of  death  or  imprisonment. 
Leaving  his  son,  Garcia  Fernandez,  therefore, 
in  charge  of  his  counsellors,  he  departed  for  Leon 
with  only  seven  cavaliers. 

As  he  approached  the  gates  of  that  city,  no 
one  came  forth  to  greet  him,  as  had  always  been 
the  custom.  This  he  considered  an  evil  sign. 
Presenting  himself  before  the  king,  he  would 
have  kissed  his  hand,  but  the  monarch  withheld 
it.  He  charged  the  count  with  being  vainglo- 
rious and  disloyal ;  with  having  absented  himself 
from  the  cortes  and  conspired  against  his  throne  ; 
— for  all  which  he  should  make  atonement,  and 
should  give  hostages  or  pledges  for  his  good  faith 
before  he  left  the  court. 

The  count  in  reply  accounted  for  absenting 
himself  from  the  cortes  by  the  perfidious  treat- 
ment he  had  formerly  experienced  at  Leon.  As 
to  any  grievances  the  king  might  have  to  com- 
plain of,  he  stood  ready  to  redress  them,  provided 
the  king  would  make  good  his  o\vn  written  en- 
gagement, signed  with  his  own  hand  and  sealed 
with  his  own  seal,  to  pay  for  the  horse  and  fal- 
con which  he  had  purchased  of  the  count  on  his 
former  visit  to  Leon.  Three  years  had  now 
elapsed  since  the  day  appointed  for  the  payment, 
and  in  the  mean  time  the  price  had  gone  on  daily 
doubling,  according  to  stipulation. 

They  parted  mutually  indignant  ;  and,  after 
the  count  had  retired  to  his  quarters,  the  king, 
piqued  to  maintain  his  royal  word,  summoned  his 
major-domo,  and  ordered  him  to  take  a  large 
amount  of  treasure  and  carry  it  to  the  Count  of 
Castile  in  payment  of  his  demand.  So  the 
major-domo  repaired  to  the  count  with  a  great 
sack  of  money  to  settle  with  him  for  the  horse 
and  hawk  ;  but  when  he  came  to  cast  up  the  ac- 
count, and  double  it  each  day  that  had  intervened 
since  the  appointed  day  of  payment,  the  major- 
domo,  though  an  expert  man  at  figures,  was 
totally  confounded,  and,  returning  to  the  king, 
assured  him  that  all  the  money  in  the  world 
would  not  suffice  to  pay  the  debt.  King  Sancho 
was  totally  at  a  loss  how  to  keep  his  word,  and 
pay  off  a  debt  which  was  more  than  enough  to 
ruin  him.  Grievously  did  he  repent  his  first 
experience  in  traffic,  and  found  that  it  is  not  safe 
even  for  a  monarch  to  trade  in  horses. 

In  the  meantime  the  count  was  suffered  to 
return  to  Castile  ;  but  he  did  not  let  the  matter 
rest  here  ;  for,  being  sorely  incensed  at  the  in- 
dignities he  had  experienced,  he  sent  missives  to 
King  Sancho,  urging  his  demand  of  payment  for 
the  horse  or  falcon — menacing  otherwise  to 
make  seizures  by  way  of  indemnification.  Re- 
cetving  no  satisfactory  reply,  he  made  a  foray 
into  the  kingdom  of  Leon,  and  brought  off  great 
spoil  of  sheep  and  cattle. 

King  Sancho  now  saw  that  the  count  was  too 
bold  and  urgent  a  creditor  to  be  trifled  with.  In 
his  perplexity  he  assembled  the  estates  of  his  king- 
dom, and  consulted  them  upon  this  momentous 
affair.  His  counsellors,  like  himself,  were  griev- 
ously perplexed  between  the  sanctity  of  the  royal 
word  and  the  enormity  of  the  debt.  After  much 


deliberation  they  suggested  a  compromise — the 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  to  relinquish  the  debt, 
and  in  lieu  thereof  to  be  released  from  his  vassal- 
age. 

The  count  agreed  right  gladly  to  this  compro- 
mise, being  thus  relieved  from  all  tribute  and  im- 
position, and  from  the  necessity  of  kissing  the 
hand  of  any  man  in  the  world  as  his  sovereign. 
Thus  did  King  Sancho  pay  with  the  sovereignty, 
of  Castile  for  a  horse  and  falcon,  and  thus  were 
the  Castilians  relieved,  by  a  skilful  bargain  in 
horse-dealing,  from  all  subjection  to  the  kingdom 
of  Leon.* 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    LAST    CAMPAIGN    OF     COUNT    FERNAN. — 
HIS  DEATH. 

THE  good  Count  Fernan  Gonzalez  was  now 
stricken  in  years.  The  fire  of  youth  was  extinct, 
the  pride  and  ambition  of  manhood  were  over ; 
instead  of  erecting  palaces  and  lofty  castles,  he 
began  now  to  turn  his  thoughts  upon  the  grave 
and  to  build  his  last  earthly  habitation,  the  sep- 
ulchre. 

Before  erecting  his  own,  he  had  one  built  of 
rich  and  stately  workmanship  for  his  first  wife, 
the  object  of  his  early  love,  and  had  her  remains 
conveyed  to  it  and  interred  with  great  solemnity. 
His  own  sepulchre,  according  to  ancient  promise, 
was  prepared  at  the  chapel  and  hermitage  of  San 
Pedro  at  Arlanza,  where  he  had  first  communed 
with  the  holy  Friar  Pelayo.  When  it  was  com- 
pleted, he  merely  inscribed  upon  it  the  word 
"Obijt,"  leaving  the  rest  to  be  supplied  by  others 
after  his  death. 

When  the  Moors  perceived  that  Count  Fernan 
Gonzalez,  once  so  redoubtable  in  arms,  was  old 
and  infirm,  and  given  to  build  tombs  instead  of 
castles,  they  thought  it  a  favorable  time  to  make 
an  inroad  into  Castile.  They  passed  the  border, 
therefore  in  great  numbers,  laying  everything 
waste  and  bearding  the  old  lion  in  his  very  den. 

The  veteran  had  laid  by  his  sword  and  buckler, 
and  had  almost  given  up  the  world  ;  but  the  sound 
of  Moorish  drum  and  trumpet  called  him  back 
even  from  the  threshold  of  the  sepulchre.  Buck- 
ling on  once  more  his  armor  and  bestriding  his 
war-steed,  he  summoned  around  him  his  Castilian 
cavaliers,  seasoned  like  him  in  a  thousand  bat- 
tles, and  accompanied  by  his  son  Garcia  Fer- 
nandez, who  inherited  all  the  valor  of  his  father, 
issued  forth  to  meet  the  foe  ;  followed  by  the 
shouts  and  blessings  of  the  populace,  who  joyed 
to  see  him  once  more  in  arms  and  glowing  with 
his  ancient  fire. 

The  Moors  were  retiring  from  an  extensive 
ravage,  laden  with  booty  and  driving  before  them 
an  immense  cavalgada,  when  they  descried  a 
squadron  of  cavaliers,  armed  all  in  steel,  emerg- 
ing from  a  great  cloud  of  dust,  and  bearing  aloft 
the  silver  cross,  the  well-known  standard  of 
Count  Fernan  Gonzalez.  That  veteran  warrior 
came  on,  as  usual,  leading  the  way,  sword  in 
hand.  The  very  sight  of  his  standard  had  struck 
dismay  into  the  enemy  ;  they  soon  gave  way  be- 
fore one  of  his  vigorous  charges,  nor  did  he  cease 
to  pursue  them  until  they  took  shelter  within  the 
very  walls  of  Cordova.  Here  he  wasted  the  sur- 
rounding country  with  fire  and  sword,  and  after 


Cronica  de  Alonzo  el  Sabio,  pt,  3,  c.  19. 


CHRONICLE  OF  FERNAN  GONZALEZ. 


461 


thus  braving  the  Moor  in  his  very  capital,  re- 
turned triumphant  to  Burgos. 

"  Such,"  says  Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  "  was  the 
last  campaign  in  the  life  of  this  most  valorous 
cavalier  ;  "  and  now,  abandoning  all  further  deeds 
of  mortal  enterprise  in  arms  to  his  son  Garcia 
Fernandez,  he  addressed  all  his  thoughts,  as  he 
said,  to  prepare  for  his  campaign  in  the  skies. 
He  still  talked  as  a  veteran  warrior,  whose  whole 
life  had  been  passed  in  arms,  but  his  talk  was 
not  of  earthly  warfare  nor  of  earthly  kingdoms. 
He  spoke  only  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and 
what  he  must  do  to  make  a  successful  inroad  and 
gain  an  eternal  inheritance  in  that  blessed  coun- 
try. 

He  was  equally  indefatigable  in  preparing  for 
his  spiritual  as  for  his  mortal  campaign.  In- 
stead, however,  of  mailed  warriors  tramping 
through  his  courts,  and  the  shrill  neigh  of  steed 
or  clang  of  trumpet  echoing  among  their  walls, 
there  were  seen  holy  priests  and  barefoot  monks 
passing  to  and  fro,  and  the  halls  resounded  with 
the  sacred  melody  of  litany  and  psalm.  So 
pleased  was  Heaven  with  the  good  works  of  this 
pious  cavalier,  and  especially  with  rich  donations 
to  churches  and  monasteries  which  he  made  un- 
der the  guidance  of  his  spiritual  counsellors,  that 
we  are  told  it  was  given  to  him  to  foresee  in 
vision  the  day  and  hour  when  he  should  pass 
from  this  weary  life  and  enter  the  mansions  of 
eternal  rest. 

Knowing  that  the  time  approached,  he  pre- 
pared for  his  end  like  a  good  Christian.  He 
wrote  to  the  kings  of  Leon  and  Navarre  in  terms 
of  great  humility,  craving  their  pardon  for  all 
past  injuries  and  offences,  and  entreating  them, 
for  the  good  of  Christendom,  to  live  in  peace  and 
amity,  and  make  common  cause  for  the  defence 
of  the  faith. 

Ten  days  before  the  time  which  Heaven  had 
appointed  for  his  death  he  sent  for  the  abbot  of 
the  chapel  and  convent  of  Arlanza,  and  bending 
his  aged  knees  before  him,  confessed  all  his  sins. 
This  done,  as  in  former  times  he  had  shown  great 
state  and  ceremony  in  his  worldly  pageants,  so 
now  he  arranged  his  last  cavalgada  to  the  grave. 
He  prayed  the  abbot  to  return  to  his  monastery 
and  have  his  sepulchre  prepared  for  his  reception, 
and  that  the  abbots  of  St.  Sebastian  and  Silos 
and  Quirce,  with  a  train  of  holy  friars,  might 
come  at  the  appointed  day  for  his  body ;  that 
thus,  as  he  commended  his  soul  to  Heaven 
through  the  hands  of  his  confessor,  he  might, 
through  the  hands  of  these  pious  men,  resign  his 
body  to  the  earth. 

When  the  abbot  had  departed,  the  count  de- 
sired to  be  left  alone  ;  and  clothing  himself  in  a 


coarse  friar's  garb,  he  remained  in  fervent  prayer 
for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins.  As  he  had  been 
a  valiant  captain  all  his  life  against  the  enemies 
of  the  faith,  so  was  he  in  death  against  the  ene- 
mies of  the  soul.  He  died  in  the  full  command 
of  all  his  faculties,  making  no  groans  nor  con- 
tortions, but  rendering  up  his  spirit  with  the 
calmness  of  a  heroic  cavalier. 

We  are  told  that  when  he  died  voices  were 
heard  from  heaven  in  testimony  of  his  sanctity, 
while  the  tears  and  lamentations  of  all  Spain 
proved  how  much  he  was  valued  and  beloved  on 
earth.  His  remains  were  conveyed,  according  to 
his  request,  to  the  monastery  of  St.  Pedro  de 
Arlanza  by  a  procession  of  holy  friars  with  solemn 
chant  and  dirge.  In  the  church  of  that  convent 
they  still  repose ;  and  two  paintings  are  to  be 
seen  in  the  convent — one  representing  the  count 
valiantly  fighting  with  the  Moors,  the  other  con- 
versing with  St.  Pelayo  and  St.  Millan,  as  they 
appeared  to  him  in  vision  before  the  battle  of 
Hazinas. 

The  cross  which  he  used  as  his  standard  is 
still  treasured  up  in  the  sacristy  of  the  convent. 
It  is  of  massive  silver,  two  ells  in  length,  with 
our  Saviour  sculptured  upon  it,  and  above  the 
head,  in  Gothic  letters,  I.  N.  R.  I.  Below  is 
Adam  awaking  from  the  grave,  with  the  words  of 
St.  Paul,  "Awake,  thou  who  sleepest,  and  arise 
from  the  tomb,  for  Christ  shall  give  thee  life." 

This  holy  cross  still  has  the  form  at  the  lowei; 
end  by  which  the  standard-bearer  rested  it  in  the 
pommel  of  his  saddle. 

"  Inestimable,"'  adds  Fray  Antonio  Agapida, 
"  are  the  relics  and  remains  of  saints  and  sainted 
warriors."  In  after  times,  when  Fernando  the 
Third,  surnamed  the  Saint,  went  to  the  conquest 
of  Seville,  he  took  with  him  a  bone  of  this  thrice- 
blessed  and  utterly  renowned  cavalier,  together 
with  his  sword  and  pennon,  hoping  through  their 
efficacy  to  succeed  in  his  enterprise, — nor  was 
he  disappointed ;  but  what  is  marvellous  to  hear, 
but  which  we  have  on  the  authority  of  the  good 
Bishop  Sandoval,  on  the  day  on  which  King 
Fernando  the  Saint  entered  Seville  in  triumph, 
great  blows  were  heard  to  resound  within  the 
sepulchre  of  the  count  at  Arlanza,  as  if  veritably 
his  bones  which  remained  behind  exulted  in  the 
victory  gained  by  those  which  had  been  carried 
to  the  wars.  Thus  were  marvellously  fulfilled 
the  words  of  the  holy  psalm, — "  Exaltabant  ossa 
humilitata."  * 

Here  ends  the  chronicle  of  the  most  valorous 
and  renowned  Don  Fernan  Gonzalez,  Count  of 
Castile.  Laus  Deo, 


*  Sandoval,  p.  334. 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO 


THE    SAINT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  PARENTAGE  OF  FERNANDO. — QUEEN  BE- 
RENGUELA.  —  THE  LARAS.  —  DON  ALVAR 
CONCEALS  THE  DEATH  OF  KING  HENRY. — 
MISSION  OF  QUEEN  BERENGUELA  TO  AL- 
FONSO IX. — SHE  RENOUNCES  THE  CROWN 
OF  CASTILE  IN  FAVOR  OF  HER  SON  FER- 
NANDO. 

FERNANDO  III.,  surnamed  the  Saint,  was  the 
son  of  Alfonso  III.,  King  of  Leon,  and  of  Beren- 
guela,  a  princess  of  Castile  ;  but  there  were  some 
particulars  concerning  his  parentage  which  it  is 
necessary  clearly  to  state  before  entering  upon 
his  personal  history. 

Alfonso  III.  of  Leon,  and  Alfonso  IX.  King 
of  Castile,  were  cousins,  but  there  were  dissen- 
sions between  them.  The  King  of  Leon,  to 
strengthen  himself,  married  his  cousin,  the  Prin- 
cess Theresa,  daughter  of  his  uncle,  the  King  of 
Portugal.  By  her  he  had  two  daughters.  The 
marriage  was  annulled  by  Pope  Celestine  III.  on 
account  of  their  consanguinity,  and,  on  their  mak- 
ing resistance,  they  were  excommunicated  and  the 
kingdom  laid  under  an  interdict.  This  produced 
an  unwilling  separation  in  1195.  Alfonso  III. 
did  not  long  remain  single.  Fresh  dissensions 
having  broken  out  between  him  and  his  cousin 
Alfonso  IX.  of  Castile,  they  were  amicably  ad- 
justed by  his  marrying  the  Princess  Berenguela, 
daughter  of  that  monarch.  This  second  mar- 
riage, which  took  place  about  three  years  after 
the  divorce,  came  likewise  under  the  ban  of  the 
Church,  and  for  the  same  reason,  the  near  pro- 
pinquity of  the  parties.  Again  the  commands  of 
the  Pope  were  resisted,  and  again  the  refractory 
parties  were  excommunicated  and  the  kingdom 
laid  under  an  interdict. 

The  unfortunate  king  of  Leon  was  the  more 
unwilling  to  give  up  the  present  marriage,  as  the 
Queen  Berenguela  had  made  him  the  happy 
father  of  several  children,  one  of  whom  he  hoped 
might  one  day  inherit  the  two  crowns  of  Leon 
and  Castile. 

The  intercession  and  entreaties  of  the  bishops 
of  Castile  so  far  mollified  the  rigor  of  the  Pope, 
that  a  compromise  was  made  ;  the  legitimacy  of 
the  children  by  the  present  marriage  was  not  to 
be  affected  by  the  divorce  of  the  parents,  and 


Fernando,  the  eldest,  the  subject  of  the  present 
chronicle,  was  recognized  as  successor  to  his 
father  to  the  throne  of  Leon.  The  divorced 
Queen  Berenguela  left  Fernando  in  Leon,  and 
returned,  in  1204,  to  Castile,  to  the  court  of  her 
father,  Alfonso  III.  Here  she  remained  until  the 
death  of  her  father  in  1214,  who  was  succeeded  by 
his  son,  Enrique,  or  Henry  I.  The  latter  being 
only  in  his  eleventh  year,  his  sister^  the  Ex-Queen 
Berenguela,  was  declared  regent.  She  well  mer- 
ited the  trust,  for  she  was  a  woman  of  great  pru- 
dence and  wisdom,  and  of  a  resolute  and  mag- 
nanimous spirit. 

At  this  time  the  house  of  Lara  had  risen  to 
great  power.  There  were  three  brothers  of  that 
turbulent  and  haughty  race,  Don  Alvar  Nunez, 
Don  Fernan  Nunez,  and  Don  Gonzalo  Nunez. 
The  Laras  had  caused  great  trouble  in  the  king- 
dom during  the  minority  of  Prince  Henry's 
father,  by  arrogating  to  themselves  the  regency  ; 
and  they  now  attempted,  in  like  manner,  to  get 
the  guardianship  of  the  son,  declaring  it  an  office 
too  important  and  difficult  to  be  entrusted  to  a 
woman.  Having  a  powerful  and  unprincipled 
party  among  the  nobles,  and  using  great  bribery 
among  persons  in  whom  Berenguela  confided, 
they  carried  their  point ;  and  the  virtuous  Be- 
renguela, to  prevent  civil  commotions,  resigned 
the  regency  into  the  hands  of  Don  Alvar  Nunez 
de  Lara,  the  head  of  that  ambitious  house.  First, 
however,  she  made  him  kneel  and  swear  that  he 
would  conduct  himself  toward  the  youthful  king, 
Enrique,  as  a  thorough  friend  and  a  loyal  vassal, 
guarding  his  person  from  all  harm  ;  that  he  would 
respect  the  property  of  individuals,  and  undertake 
nothing  of  importance  without  the  counsel  and 
consent  of  Queen  Berenguela.  Furthermore, 
that  he  would  guard  and  respect  the  hereditary 
possessions  of  Queen  Berenguela,  left  to  her  by 
her  father,  and  would  always  serve  her  as  his 
sovereign,  the  daughter  of  his  deceased  king. 
All  this  Don  Alvar  Nunez  solemnly  swore  upon 
the  sacred  evangelists  and  the  holy  cross. 

No  sooner,  however,  had  he  got  the  young 
king  in  his  power,  than  he  showed  the  ambition, 
rapacity,  and  arrogance  of  his  nature.  He  pre- 
vailed upon  the  young  king  to  make  him  a  count ; 
he  induced  him  to  hold  cortes  without  the  pres- 
ence of  Queen  Berenguela  ;  issuing  edicts  in  the 
king's  name,  he  banished  refractory  nobles,  giv- 


464 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


ing  their  offices  and  lands  to  his  brothers ;  he 
levied  exactions  on  rich  and  poor,  and,  what  is 
still  more  flagrant,  he  extended  these  exactions 
to  the  Church.  In  vain  did  Queen  Berenguela 
remonstrate  ;  in  vain  did  the  Dean  of  Toledo 
thunder  forth  an  excommunication  ;  he  scoffed 
at  them  both,  for  in  the  king's  name  he  persuaded 
himself  he  had  a  tower  of  strength.  He  even 
sent  a  letter  to  Queen  Berenguela  in  the  name 
of  the  young  king,  demanding  of  her  the  castles, 
towns,  and  ports  which  had  been  left  to  her  by 
her  father.  The  queen  was  deeply  grieved  at 
this  letter,  and  sent  a  reply  to  the  king  that, 
when  she  saw  him  face  to  face,  she  would  do 
with  those  possessions  whatever  he  should  com- 
mand, as  her  brother  and  sovereign. 

On  receiving  this  message,  the  young  king 
was  shocked  and  distressed  that  such  a  demand 
should  have  been  made  in  his  name  ;  but  he  was 
young  and  inexperienced,  and  could  not  openly 
contend  with  a  man  of  Don  Alvar's  overbearing 
character.  He  wrote  secretly  to  the  queen, 
however,  assuring  her  that  the  demand  had  been 
made  without  his  knowledge,  and  saying  how 
gladly  he  would  come  to  her  if  he  could,  and  be 
relieved  from  the  thraldom  of  Don  Alvar. 

In  this  way  the  unfortunate  prince  was  made 
an  instrument  in  the  hands  of  this  haughty  and 
arrogant  nobleman  of  inflicting  all  kinds  of 
wrongs  and  injuries  upon  his  subjects.  Don 
Alvar  constantly  kept  him  with  him,  carrying 
him  from  place  to  place  of  his  dominions,  wher- 
ever his  presence  was  necessary  to  effect  some 
new  measure  of  tyranny.  He  even  endeavored 
to  negotiate  a  marriage  between  the  young  king 
and  some  neighboring  princess,  in  order  to  retain 
an  influence  over  him,  but  in  this  he  was  unsuc- 
cessful. 

For  three  years  had  he  maintained  this  iniqui- 
tous sway,  until  one  day  in  1217,  when  the  young 
king  was  with  him  at  Palencia,  and  was  playing 
Avith  some  youthful  companions  in  the  court-yard 
of  the  episcopal  palace,  a  tile,  either  falling  from 
the  roof  of  a  tower,  or  sportively  thrown  by  one 
of  his  companions,  struck  him  in  the  head,  and 
inflicted  a  wound  of  which  he  presently  died. 

This  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the  power  of  Don 
Alvar.  To  secure  himself  from  any  sudden  re- 
vulsion in  the  popular  mind,  he  determined  to 
conceal  the  death  of  the  king  as  long  as  possible, 
and  gave  out  that  he  had  retired  to  the  fortress 
of  Tariego,  whither  he  had  the  body  conveyed, 
as  if  still  living.  He  continued  to  issue  dis- 
patches from  time  to  time  in  the  name  of  the 
king,  and  made  various  excuses  for  his  non- 
appearance  in  public. 

Queen  Berenguela  soon  learned  the  truth. 
According  to  the  laws  of  Castile  she  was  heiress 
to  the  crown,  but  she  resolved  to  transfer  it  to 
her  son  Fernando,  who,  being  likewise  acknowl- 
edged successor  to  the  crown  of  Leon,  would 
unite  the  two  kingdoms  under  his  rule.  To  effect 
her  purpose  she  availed  herself  of  the  cunning  of 
her  enemy,  kept  secret  her  knowledge  of  the 
death  of  her  brother,  and  sent  three  of  her  confi- 
dential cavaliers,  Don  Lope  Diaz  de  Haro,  Senor 
of  Biscay,  and  Don  Gonzalo  Ruiz  Giron,  and 
Don  Alonzo  Tellez  de  Meneses,  to  her  late  hus- 
band, Alfonso  IX.,  King  of  Leon,  who,  with  her 
son  Fernando,  was  then  at  Toro,  entreating  him 
to  send  the  latter  to  her  to  protect  her  from  the 
tyranny  of  Don  Alvar.  The  prudent  mother, 
however,  forbore  to  let  King  Alfonso  know  of  her 
brother's  death,  lest  it  might  awaken  in  him  am- 
bitious thoughts  about  the  Castilian  crown. 


This  mission  being  sent,  she  departed  with  the 
cavaliers  of  her  party  for  Palencia.  The  death 
of  the  King  Enrique  being  noised  about,  she  was 
honored  as  Queen  of  Castile,  and  Don  Tello,  the 
bishop  came  forth  in  procession  to  receive  her. 
The  next  day  she  proceeded  to  the  castle  of 
Duenas,  and,  on  its  making  some  show  of  resist- 
ance, took  it  by  force. 

The  cavaliers  who  were  with  the  queen  en- 
deavored to  effect  a  reconciliation  between  her 
and  Don  Alvar,  seeing  that  the  latter  had  power- 
ful connections,  and  through  his  partisans  and 
retainers  held  possession  of  the  principal  towns 
and  fortresses  ;  that  haughty  nobleman,  however, 
would  listen  to  no  proposals  unless  the  Prince 
Fernando  was  given  into  his  guardianship,  as  had 
been  the  Prince  Enrique. 

In  the  meantime  the  request  of  Queen  Beren- 
guela had  been  granted  by  her  late  husband,  the 
King  of  Leon,  and  her  son  Fernando  hastened 
to  meet  her.  The  meeting  took  place  at  the 
castle  of  Otiella,  and  happy  was  the  anxious 
mother  once  more  to  embrace  her  son.  At  her 
command  the  cavaliers  in  her  train  elevated  him 
on  the  trunk  of  an  elm-tree  for  a  throne,  and 
hailed  him  king  with  great  acclamations. 

They  now  proceeded  to  Valladolid,  which  at 
that  time  was  a  great  and  wealthy  town.  Here 
the  nobility  and  chivalry  of  Estremadura  and 
other  parts  hastened  to  pay  homage  to  the  queen. 
A  stage  was  erected  in  the  market-place,  where 
the  assembled  states  acknowledged  her  for  queen 
and  swore  fealty  to  her.  She  immediately,  in 
presence  of  her  nobles,  prelates,  and  people,  re- 
nounced the  crown  in  favor  of  her  son.  The  air 
rang  with  the  shouts  of  "  Long  live  Fernando, 
King  of  Castile  !  "  The  bishops  and  clergy  then 
conducted  the  king  in  state  to  the  church.  This 
was  on  the  3ist  of  August,  1217,  and  about  three 
months  from  the  death  of  King  Enrique. 

Fernando  was  at  this  time  about  eighteen  years 
of  age,  an  accomplished  cavalier,  having  been 
instructed  in  everything  befitting  a  prince  and  a 
warrior. 


CHAPTER  II. 

KING  ALFONSO  OF  LEON  RAVAGES  CASTILE. — 
CAPTIVITY  OF  DON  ALVAR. — DEATH  OF 
THE  LARAS. 

KING  ALFONSO  of  Leon  was  exceedingly  ex- 
asperated at  the  furtive  manner  in  which  his  son 
Fernando  had  left  him,  without  informing  him  of 
King  Henry's  death.  He  considered,  and  per- 
haps with  reason,  the  transfer  of  the  crown  of 
Castile  by  Berenguela  to  her  son,  as  a  manoeuvre 
to  evade  any  rights  or  claims  which  he,  King 
Alfonso,  might  have  over  her,  notwithstanding 
their  divorce  ;  and  he  believed  that  both  mother 
and  son  had  conspired  to  deceive  and  outwit 
him  ;  and,  what  was  especially  provoking,  they 
had  succeeded.  It  was  natural  for  King  Alfonso 
to  have  become  by  this  time  exceedingly  irritable- 
and  sensitive  ;  he  had  been  repeatedly  thwarted 
in  his  dearest  concerns  ;  excommunicated  out  of 
two  wives  by  the  Pope,  and  now,  as  he  conceived, 
cajoled  out  of  a  kingdom. 

In  his  wrath  he  flew  to  arms — a  prompt  and 
customary  recourse  of  kings  in  those  days  when 
they  had  no  will  to  consult  but  their  own  ;  and 
notwithstanding  the  earnest  expostulations  and 
entreaties  of  holy  men,  he  entered  Castile  with 
an  army,  ravaging  the  legitimate  inheritance  of 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


465 


his  son,  as  if  it  had  been  the  territory  of  an 
enemy.  He  was  seconded  in  his  outrages  by 
Count  Alvar  Nunez  de  Lara  and  his  two  bellicose 
brothers,  who  hoped  still  to  retain  power  by  ral- 
lying under  his  standard.  , 

There  were  at  this  time  full  two  thousand  cava- 
liers with  the  youthful  king,  resolute  men,  well 
armed  and  well  appointed,  and  they  urged  him 
to  lead  them  against  the  King  of  Leon.  Queen 
Berenguela,  however  interposed  and  declared 
her  son  should  never  be  guilty  of  the  impiety  of 
taking  up  arms  against  his  father.  By  her  advice 
King  Fernando  sent  an  embassy  to  his  father,  ex- 
postulating with  him,  and  telling  him  that  he 
ought  to  be  thankful  to  God  that  Castile  was  in 
the  hands  of  a  son  disposed  at  all  times  to  honor 
and  defend  him,  instead  of  a  stranger  who  might 
prove  a  dangerous  foe. 

King  Alfonso,  however,  was  not  so  to  be  ap- 
peased. By  the  ambassadors  he  sent  proposals 
to  Queen  Berenguela  that  they  re-enter  into  wed- 
lock, for  which  he  would  procure  a  dispensation 
from  the  Pope  ;  they  would  then  be  jointly  sov- 
ereigns of  both  Castile  and  Leon,  and  the  Prince 
Fernando,  their  son,  should  inherit  both  crowns. 
But  the  virtuous  Berenguela  recoiled  from  this 
proposal  of  a  second  nuptials.  "  God  forbid," 
replied  she,  "  that  I  should  return  to  a  sinful 
marriage  ;  and  as  to  the  crown  of  Castile,  it  now 
belongs  to  my  son,  to  whom  I  have  given  it  with 
the  sanction  of  God  and  the  good  men  of  this 
realm." 

King  Alfonso  was  more  enraged  than  ever  by 
this  reply,  and  being  incited  and  aided  by  Count 
Alvar  and  his  faction,  he  resumed  his  ravages, 
laying  waste  the  country  and  burning  the  villages. 
He  would  have  attacked  Duenas,  but  found  that 
place  strongly  garrisoned  by  Diego  Lopez  de 
Haro  and  Ruy  Diaz  de  los  Cameros  ;  he  next 
marched  upon  Burgos,  but  that  place  was  equally 
well  garrisoned  by  Lope  Diez  de  Faro  and  other 
stout  Castilian  cavaliers  ;  so  perceiving  his  son 
to  be  more  firmly  seated  upon  the  throne  than  he 
had  imagined,  and  that  all  his  own  menaces  and 
ravages  were  unavailing,  he  returned  deeply  chag- 
rined to  his  kingdom. 

King  Fernando,  in  obedience  to  the  dictates 
of  his  mother  as  well  as  of  his  own  heart,  ab- 
stained from  any  acts  of  retaliation  on  his  father  ; 
but  he  turned  his  arms  against  Mufion  and  Lerma 
and  Lara,  and  other  places  which  either  belonged 
to,  or  held  out  for,  Count  Alvar,  and  having  sub- 
dued them,  proceeded  to  Burgos,  the  capital  of 
his  kingdom,  where  he  was  received  by  the  bishop 
and  clergy  with  great  solemnity,  and  whither  the 
nobles  and  chivalry  from  all  parts  of  Castile 
hastened  to  rally  round  his  throne.  The  turbu- 
lent Count  Alvar  Nunez  de  Lara  and  his  brothers 
retaining  other  fortresses  too  strong  to  be  easily 
taken,  refused  all  allegiance,  and  made  ravaging 
excursions  over  the  country.  The  prudent  and 
provident  Berenguela,  therefore,  while  at  Burgos, 
seeing  that  the  troubles  and  contentions  of  the 
kingdom  would  cause  great  expense  and  prevent 
much  revenue,  gathered  together  all  her  jewels 
of  gold  and  silver  and  precious  stones,  and  all  her 
plate  and  rich  silks,  and  other  precious  things, 
and  caused  them  to  be  sold,  and  gave  the  money 
to  her  son  to  defray  the  cost  of  these  civil  wars. 

King  Fernando  and  his  mother  departed  shortly 
afterward  for  Palencia  ;  on  their  way  they  had 
to  pass  by  Herrera,  which  at  that  time  was  the 
stronghold  of  Count  Alvar.  When  the  king  came 
in  sight,  Count  Fernan  Nunez  with  his  battalions, 
was  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  but  drew  within 
VOL.  IV.— 30 


the  walls.  As  the  king  had  to  pass  close  by  with 
his  retinue,  he  ordered  his  troops  to  be  put  in 
good  order  and  gave  it  in  charge  to  Alonzo  Tellez 
and  Suer  Tellez  and  Alvar  Ruyz  to  protect  the 
flanks. 

As  the  royal  troops  drew  near,  Count  Alvar, 
leaving  his  people  in  the  town,  sallied  forth  with 
a  few  cavaliers  to  regard  the  army  as  it  passed. 
Affecting  great  contempt  for  the  youthful  king 
and  his  cavaliers,  he  stood  drawn  up  on  a  rising 
ground  with  his  attendants,  looking  down  upon 
the  troops  with  scornful  aspect,  and  rejecting  all 
advice  to  retire  into  the  town. 

As  the  king  and  his  immediate  escort  came 
nigh,  their  attention  was  attracted  to  this  little 
body  of  proud  warriors  drawn  up  upon  a  bank  and 
regarding  them  so  loftily ;  and  Alonzo  Tellez  and 
Suer  Tellez  looking  more  closely,  recognized  Don 
Alvar,  and  putting  spurs  to  their  horses,  dashed 
up  the  bank,  followed  by  several  cavaliers.  Don 
Alvar  repented  of  his  vain  confidence  too  late, 
and  seeing  great  numbers  urging  toward  him, 
turned  his  reins  and  retreated  toward  the  town. 
Still  his  stomach  was  too  high  for  absolute  flight, 
and  the  others,  who  spurred  after  him  at  full 
speed,  overtook  him.  Throwing  himself  from  his 
horse,  he  covered  himself  with  his  shield  and 
prepared  for  defence.  Alonzo  Tellez,  however, 
called  to  his  men  not  to  kill  the  count,  but  to 
take  him  prisoner.  He  was  accordingly  captured, 
with  several  of  his  followers,  and  born  off  to  the 
king  and  queen.  The  count  had  everything  to 
apprehend  from  their  vengeance  for  his  misdeeds. 
They  used  no  personal  harshness,  however,  but 
demanded  from  him  that  he  should  surrender  all 
the  castles  and  strong  places  held  by  the  re- 
tainers and  partisans  of  his  brothers  and  himself, 
that  he  should  furnish  one  hundred  horsemen 
to  aid  in  their  recovery,  and  should  remain  a 
prisoner  until  those  places  were  all  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  crown. 

Captivity  broke  the  haughty  spirit  of  Don 
Alvar.  He  agreed  to  those  conditions,  and  until 
they  should  be  fulfilled  was  consigned  to  the 
charge  of  Gonsalvo  Ruiz  Giron,  and  confined  in 
the  castle  of  Valladolid.  The  places  were  de- 
livered up  in  the  course  of  a  few  months,  and 
thus  King  Fernando  became  strongly  possessed 
of  his  kingdom. 

Stripped  of  power,  state,  and  possessions,  Count 
Alvar  and  his  brothers,  after  an  ineffectual  at- 
tempt to  rouse  the  King  of  Leon  to  another  cam- 
paign against  his  son,  became  savage  and  des- 
perate, and  made  predatory  excursions,  pillaging 
the  country,  until  Count  Alvar  fell  mortally  ill  of 
hydropsy.  Struck  with  remorse  and  melancholy, 
he  repaired  to  Toro  and  entered  the  chivalrous 
order  of  Santiago,  that  he  might  gain  the  indul- 
gence granted  by  the  Pope  to  those  who  die  in 
that  order,  and  hoping,  says  an  ancient  chron- 
icler, to  oblige  God  as  it  were,  by  that  religious 
ceremony,  to  pardon  his  sins.*  His  illness  en- 
dured seven  months,  and  he  was  reduced  to 
such  poverty  that  at  his  death  there  was  not  money 
enough  left  by  him  to  convey  his  body  to  Ucles, 
where  he  had  requested  to  be  buried,  nor  to  pay 
for  tapers  for  his  funeral.  When  Queen  Beren- 
guela heard  this,  she  ordered  that  the  funeral 
should  be  honorably  performed  at  her  own  ex- 
pense, and  sent  a  cloth  of  gold  to  cover  the  bier.f 

The  brother  of  Count   Alvar,  Don  Fernando 


P. 


*  Cronica  Gotica,  por  Don  Alonzo  Nuaez  de  Castro, 

17- 
f  Cronica  General  de  Espaiia,  pt.  3,  p.  370. 


466 


CHRONICLE    OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


abandoned  his  country  in  despair  and  went  to 
Marocco,  where  he  was  well  received  by  the  Mi- 
ramamolin,  and  had  lands  and  revenues  assigned 
to  him.  He  became  a  great  favorite  among  the 
Moors,  to  whom  he  used  to  recount  his  deeds  in 
the  civil  wars  of  Castile.  At  length  he  fell  dan- 
gerously ill,  and  caused  himself  to  be  taken  to  a 
suburb  inhabited  by  Christians.  There  hap- 
pened to  be  there  at  that  time  one  Don  Gon- 
salvo,  a  knight  of  the  order  of  the  Hospital  of  St. 
Jean  d'Acre,  and  who  had  been  in  the  service  of 
Pope  Innocent  III.  Don  Fernando,  finding  his 
end  approaching,  entreated  of  the  knight  his  re- 
ligious habit  that  he  might  die  in  it.  His  request 
was  granted,  and  thus  Count  Fernando  died  in 
the  habit  of  a  Knight  Hospitaller  of  St.  Jean 
d'Acre,  in  Elbora,  a  suburb  of  Marocco.  His 
body  was  afterward  brought  to  Spain,  and  in- 
terred in  a  town  on  the  banks  of  the  Pisuerga, 
in  which  repose  likewise  the  remains  of  his  wife 
and  children. 

The  Count  Gonsalvo  Nunez  de  Lara,  the  third 
of  these  brothers,  also  took  refuge  among  the 
Moors.  He  was  seized  with  violent  disease  in 
the  city  of  Baeza,  where  he  died.  His  body  was 
conveyed  to  Campos  a  Zalmos,  which  appertained 
to  the  Friars  of  the  Temple,  where  the  holy  fra- 
ternity gave  it  the  rites  of  sepulture  with  all  due 
honor.  Such  was  the  end  of  these  three  brothers 
of  the  once  proud  and  powerful  house  of  Lara, 
whose  disloyal  deeds  had  harassed  their  country 
and  brought  ruin  upon  themselves. 


CHAPTER  III. 

MARRIAGE  OF  KING  FERNANDO. — CAMPAIGN 
AGAINST  THE  MOORS. — ABEN  MOHAMED, 
KING  OF  BAEZA,  DECLARES  HIMSELF  THE 
VASSAL  OF  KING  FERNANDO.— THEY  MARCH 
TO  JAEN. — BURNING  OF  THE  TOWER. — FER- 
NANDO COMMENCES  THE  BUILDING  OF  THE 
CATHEDRAL  AT  TOLEDO. 

KING  FERNANDO,  aided  by  the  sage  counsels  of 
his  mother,  reigned  for  some  time  in  peace  and 
quietness,  administering  his  affairs  with  equity 
and  justice.  The  good  Queen  Berenguela  now 
began  to  cast  about  her  eyes  in  search  of  a  suit- 
able alliance  for  her  son,  and  had  many  consul- 
tations with  the  Bishop  Maurice  of  Burgos,  and 
other  ghostly  counsellors,  thereupon.  They  at 
length  agreed  upon  the  Princess  Beatrix,  daughter 
of  the  late  Philip,  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  the 
Bishop  Maurice  and  Padre  Fray  Pedro  de  Arlanza 
were  sent  as  envoys  to  the  Emperor  Frederick 
II.,  cousin  of  the  princess,  to  negotiate  the  terms. 
An  arrangement  was  happily  effected,  and  the 
princess  set  out  for  Spain.  In  passing  through 
France  she  was  courteously  entertained  at  Paris 
by  King  Philip,  who  made  her  rich  presents.  On 
the  borders  of  Castile  she  was  met  at  Vittoria  by 
the  Queen  Berenguela,  with  a  great  train  of  pre- 
lates, monks,  and  masters  of  the  religious  orders, 
and  of  abbesses  and  nuns,  together  with  a  glori- 
ous train  of  chivalry.  In  this  state  she  was  con- 
ducted to  Burgos,  where  the  king  and  all  his  court 
came  forth  to  receive  her,  and  their  nuptials 
were  celebrated  with  great  pomp  and  rejoicing. 

King  Fernando  lived  happily  with  his  fair 
Queen  Beatrix,  and  his  kingdom  remained  in 
peace  ;  but  by  degrees  he  became  impatient  of 
quiet,  and  anxious  to  make  war  upon  the  Moors. 
Perhaps  he  felt  called  upon  to  make  some  signal 


essay  in  arms  at  present,  having,  the  day  before 
his  nuptials,  been  armed  a  knight  in  the  monas- 
tery of  Las  Huelgos,  and  in  those  iron  days 
knighthood  was  not  a  matter  of  mere  parade  and 
ceremony,  but  called  for  acts  of  valor  and  proofs 
of  stern  endurance. 

The  discreet  Berenguela  endeavored  to  dis- 
suade her  son  from  taking  the  field,  considering 
him  not  of  sufficient  age.  In  all  things  else  he 
was  ever  obedient  to  her  counsels,  and  even  to 
her  inclinations,  but  it  was  in  vain  that  she  en- 
deavored to  persuade  him  from  making  war  upon 
the  infidels.  "God,''  he  would  say,  "  had  put 
into  his  hand  not  merely  a  sceptre  to  govern,  but 
a  sword  to  avenge  his  country." 

It  was  fortunate  for  the  good  cause,  moreover, 
and  the  Spanish  chroniclers,  that  while  the  queen- 
mother  was  endeavoring  to  throw  a  damper  on 
the  kindling  fire  of  her  son,  a  worthy  prelate  was 
at  hand  to  stir  it  up  into  a  blaze.  This  was  the 
illustrious  historian  Rodrigo,  Archbishop  of  To- 
ledo, who  now  preached  a  crusade  against  the 
Moors,  promising  like  indulgences  with  those 
granted  to  the  warriors  for  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
The  consequence  was  a  great  assemblage  of 
troops  from  all  parts  at  Toledo. 

King  Fernando  was  prevented  for  a  time  from 
taking  the  field  in  person,  but  sent  in  advance 
Don  Lope  Diaz  de  Haro  and  Ruy  Gonsalvo  de 
Giron  and  Alonzo  Tellez  de  Mencses,  with  five 
hundred  cavaliers  well  armed  and  mounted.  The 
very  sight  of  them  effected  a  conquest  over  Aben 
Mohamed,  the  Moorish  king  of  Bacza,  insomuch 
that  he  sent  an  embassy  to  King  Fernando,  de- 
claring himself  his  vassal. 

When  King  Fernando  afterwards  took  the 
field,  he  was  joined  by  this  Moorish  ally  at  the 
Navas  or  plains  of  Tolosa  ;  who  was  in  company 
with  him  when  the  king  marched  to  Jaen,  to  the 
foot  of  a  tower,  and  set  fire  to  it,  whereupon 
those  Moors  who  remained  in  the  tower  were 
burned  to  death,  and  those  who  leaped  from  the 
walls  were  received  on  the  points  of  lances. 

Notwithstanding  the  burnt-offering  of  this 
tower,  Heaven  did  not  smile  upon  the  attempt  of 
King  Fernando  to  reduce  the  city  of  Jaen.  He 
was  obliged  to  abandon  the  siege,  but  consoled 
himself  by  laying  waste  the  country.  He  was 
more  successful  elsewhere.  He  carried  the 
strong  town  of  Priego  by  assault,  and  gave  the 
garrison  their  lives  on  condition  of  yielding  up 
all  their  property,  and  paying,  moreover,  eighty 
thousand  maravedis  of  silver.  For  the  payment 
of  this  sum  they  were  obliged  to  give  as  hostages 
fifty-five  damsels  of  great  beauty,  and  fifty  cava- 
liers of  rank,  besides  nine  hundred  of  the  com- 
mon people.  The  king  divided  his  hostages 
among  his  bravest  cavaliers  and  the  religious 
orders ;  but  his  vassal,  the  Moorish  king  of 
Baeza,  obtained  the  charge  of  the  Moorish  dam- 
sels. 

The  king  then  attacked  Loxa,  and  his  men 
scaled  the  walls  and  burnt  the  gates,  and  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  place.  He  then  led 
his  army  into  the  Vega  of  Granada,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  which  submitted  to  become  his  vassals, 
and  gave  up  all  the  Christian  captives  in  that 
city,  amounting  to  thirteen  hundred. 

Aben  Mohamed,  king  of  Baeza,  then  delivered 
to  King  Fernando  the  towers  of  Martos  and  An- 
dujar,  and  the  king  gave  them  to  Don  Alvar 
Perez  de  Castro,  and  placed  with  him  Don  Gon- 
zalo  Ybanez,  Master  of  Calatrava,  and  Tello 
Alonzo  Meneses,  son  of  Don  Alonzo  Tellez,  and 
other  stout  cavaliers,  fitted  to  maintain  frontier 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


4G7 


posts.  These  arrangements  being  made,  and 
having  ransacked  every  mountain  and  valley, 
and  taken  many  other  places  not  herein  specified, 
King  Fernando  returned  in  triumph  to  Toledo, 
where  he  was  joyfully  received  by  his  mother 
Berenguela  and  his  wife  Beatrix. 

Clerical  historians  do  not  fail  to  record  with 
infinite  satisfaction  a  single  instance  of  the  de- 
vout and  zealous  spirit  which  King  Fernando  had 
derived  from  his  constant  communion  with  the 
reverend  fathers  of  the  Church.  As  the  king  was 
one  day  walking  with  his  ghostly  adviser  the 
archbishop,  in  the  principal  church  of  Toledo, 
which  was  built  in  the  Moresco  fashion,  having 
been  a  mosque  of  the  infidels,  it  occurred,  or 
more  probably  was  suggested  to  him,  that,  since 
God  had  aided  him  to  increase  his  kingdom,  and 
had  given  him  such  victories  over  the  enemies  of 
his  holy  faith,  it  became  him  to  rebuild  his  holy 
temple,  which  was  ancient  and  falling  to  decay, 
and  to  adorn  it  richly  with  the  spoils  taken  from 
the  Moors.  The  thought  was  promptly  carried 
into  effect.  The  king  and  the  archbishop  laid 
the  first  stone  with  great  solemnity,  and  in  the 
fulness  of  time  accomplished  that  mighty  cathe- 
dral of  Toledo,  which  remains  the  wonder  and 
admiration  of  after  ages. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ASSASSINATION  OF  ADEN  MOHAMED. — HIS  HEAD 
CARRIED  AS  A  PRESENT  TO  ABULLALE,  THE 
MOORISH  KING  OF  SEVILLE. — ADVANCE  OF 
THE  CHRISTIANS  INTO  ANDALUSIA. — ABUL- 
LALE PURCHASES  A  TRUCE. 

THE  worthy  Fray  Antonio  Agapida  records 
various  other  victories  and  achievements  of  King 
Fernando  in  a  subsequent  campaign  against  the 
Moors  of  Andalusia  ;  in  the  course  of  which  his 
camp  was  abundantly  supplied  with  grain  by  his 
vassal  Aben  Mohamed,  the  Moorish  king  of 
Baeza.  The  assistance  rendered  by  that  Moslem 
monarch  to  the  Christian  forces  in  their  battles 
against  those  of  his  own  race  and  his  own  faith, 
did  not  meet  with  the  reward  it  merited. 
"  Doubtless,"  says  Antonio  Agapida,  "  because 
he  halted  half  way  in  the  right  path,  and  did  not 
turn  thorough  renegade."  It  appears  that  his 
friendship  for  the  Christians  gave  great  disgust  to 
his  subjects,  and  some  of  them  rose  upon  him, 
while  he  was  sojourning  in  the  city  of  Cordova, 
and  sought  to  destroy  him.  Aben  Mohamed  fled 
by  a  gate  leading  to  the  gardens,  to  take  shelter 
in  the  tower  of  Almodovar ;  but  the  assassins 
overtook  him,  and  slew  him  on  a  hill  near  the 
tower.  They  then  cut  off  his  head  and  carried  it 
as  a  present  to  Abullale,  the  Moorish  King  of 
Seville,  expecting  to  be  munificently  rewarded  ; 
but  that  monarch  gave  command  that  their  heads 
should  be  struck  off  and  their  bodies  thrown  to 
the  dogs,  as  traitors  to  their  liege  lords.* 

King  Fernando  was  grieved  when  he  heard 
of  the  assassination  of  his  vassal,  and  feared  the 
death  of  Aben  Mohamed  might  lead  to  a  rising 
of  the  Moors.  He  sent  notice  to  Andujar,  to 
Don  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro  and  Alonzo  Tellez 
de  Meneses,  to  be  on  their  guard  ;  but  the  Moors, 
fearing  punishment  for  some  rebellious  move- 
ments, abandoned  the  town,  and  it  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  king.  The  Moors  of  Martos  did  the 

*  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espana,  pt.  4,  fol.  373. 


like.  The  Alcazar  of  Baeza  yielded  also  to  the 
king,  who  placed  in  it  Don  Lope  Diaz  de  Haro, 
with  five  hundred  men. 

Abullale,  the  Moorish  sovereign  of  Seville,  was 
alarmed  at  seeing  the  advances  which  the  Chris- 
tians were  making  in  Andalusia ;  and  attempted 
to  wrest  from  their  hands  these  newly  acquired 
places.  He  marched  upon  Martos,  which  was 
not  strongly  walled.  The  Countess  Dona  Yrenia, 
wife  to  Don  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro,  was  in  this 
place,  and  her  husband  was  absent.  Don  Tello 
Alonzo,  with  a  Spanish  force,  hastened  to  her 
assistance.  Finding  the  town  closely  invested, 
he  formed  his  men  into  a  troop,  and  endeavored 
to  cut  his  way  through  the  enemy.  A  rude  con- 
flict ensued,  the  cavaliers  fought  their  way  for- 
ward, and  Christian  and  Moor  arrived  pell-mell 
at  the  gate  of  the  town.  Here  the  press  was  ex- 
cessive. Fernan  Gomez  de  Pudiello,  a  stout  cav- 
alier, who  bore  the  pennon  of  Don  Tello  Alonzo, 
was  slain,  and  the  same  fate  would  have  befallen 
Don  Tello  himself,  but  that  a  company  of  esquires 
sallied  from  the  town  to  his  rescue. 

King  Abullale  now  encircled  the  town,  and  got 
possession  of  the  Pefia,  or  rock,  which  commands 
it,  killing  two  hundred  Christians  who  defended 
it. 

Provisions  began  to  fail  the  besieged,  and  they 
were  reduced  to  slay  their  horses  for  food,  and 
even  to  eat  the  hides.  Don  Gonsalvo  Ybanez, 
master  of  Calatrava,  who  was  in  Baeza,  hearing 
of  the  extremity  of  the  place,  came  suddenly  with 
seventy  men  and  effected  an  entrance.  The  aug- 
mentation of  the  garrison  only  served  to  increase 
the  famine,  without  being  sufficient  in  force  to 
raise  the  siege.  At  length  word  was  brought  to 
Don  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro,  who  was  with  the 
king  at  Guadalaxara,  of  the  imminent  danger  to 
which  his  wife  was  exposed.  He  instantly  set 
off  for  her  relief,  accompanied  by  several  cavaliers 
of  note,  and  a  strong  force.  They  succeeded  in 
getting  into  Martos,  recovered  the  Pena,  or  rock, 
and  made  such  vigorous  defence  that  Abullale 
abandoned  the  siege  in  despair.  In  the  following 
year  King  Fernando  led  his  host  to  take  revenge 
upon  this  Moorish  king  of  Seville  ;  but  the  latter 
purchased  a  truce  for  one  year  with  three  hundred 
thousand  maravedis  of  silver.* 


CHAPTER  V. 

ABEN  HUD. — ABULLALE  PURCHASES  ANOTHER 
YEAR'S  TRUCE. — FERNANDO  HEARS  OF  THE 
DEATH  OF  HIS  FATHER,  THE  KING  OF  LEON, 
WHILE  PRESSING  THE  SIEGE  OF  JAEN. — HE 
BECOMES  SOVEREIGN  OF  THE  TWO  KING- 
DOMS OF  LEON  AND  CASTILE. 

ABOUT  this  time  a  valiant  sheik,  named  Aben 
Abdallar  Mohammed  ben  Hud,  but  commonly 
called  Aben  Hud,  was  effecting  a  great  revolution 
in  Moorish  affairs.  He  was  of  the  lineage  of  Aben 
Alfange,  and  bitterly  opposed  to  the  sect  of  Al- 
mohades,  who  for  a  long  time  had  exercised  a 
tyrannical  sway.  Stirring  up  the  Moors  of  Murcia 
to  rise  upon  their  oppressors,  he  put  himself  at 
their  head,  massacred  all  the  Almohades  that  fell 
into  his  hands,  and  made  himself  sheik  or  king 
of  that  region.  He  purified  the  mosques  with 
water,  after  the  manner  in  which  Christians  purify 
their  churches,  as  though  they  had  been  defiled 


*  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espafia,  pt,  4,  c.  ii. 


468 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


by  the  Almohades.  Aben  Hud  acquired  a  name 
among  those  of  his  religion  for  justice  and  good 
faith  as  well  as  valor  ;  and  after  some  opposition, 
gained  sway  over  all  Andalusia.  This  brought 
him  in  collision  with  King  Fernando  .  .  . 
S^T  (Something  is  wanting  here.)* 
laying  waste  fields  of  grain.  The  Moorish  sove- 
reign of  Seville  purchased  another  year's  truce  of 
him  for  three  hundred  thousand  maravedis  of  sil- 
ver. Aben  Hud,  on  the  other  hand,  collected  a 
great  force  and  marched  to  oppose  him,  but  did 
not  dare  to  give  him  battle.  He  went,  therefore, 
upon  Merida,  and  fought  with  King  Alfonso  of 
Leon,  father  of  King  Fernando,  where,  however, 
he  met  with  complete  discomfiture. 

On  the  following  year  King  Fernando  repeated 
his  invasion  of  Andalusia,  and  was  pressing  the 
siege  of  the  city  of  Jaen,  which  he  assailed  by 
means  of  engines  discharging  stones,  when  a 
courier  arrived  in  all  speed  from  his  mother,  in- 
forming him  that  his  father  Alfonso  was  dead, 
and  urging  him  to  proceed  instantly  to  Leon,  to 
enforce  his  pretensions  to  the  crown.  King  Fer- 
nando accordingly  raised  the  siege  of  Jaen,  send- 
ing his  engines  to.Martos,and  repaired  to  Castile, 
to  consult  with  his  mother,  who  was  his  counsellor 
on  all  occasions. 

It  appeared  that  in  his  last  will  King  Alfonso 
had  named  his  two  daughters  joint,  heirs  to  the 
crown.  Some  of  the  Leonese  and  Gallegos  were 
disposed  to  place  the  Prince  Alonzo,  brother  to 
King  Fernando,  on  the  throne ;  but  he  had  lis- 
tened to  the  commands  of  his  mother,  and  had 
resisted  all  suggestions  of  the  kind  ;  the  larger 
part  of  the  kingdom,  including  the  most  impor- 
tant cities,  had  declared  for  Fernando. 

Accompanied  by  his  mother,  King  Fernando 
proceeded  instantly  into  the  kingdom  of  Leon 
with  a  powerful  force.  Wherever  they  went  the 
cities  threw  open  their  gates  to  them.  The 
princesses  Dona  Sancha  and  Dona  Dulcc,  with 
their  mother  Theresa,  would  have  assembled  a 
force  to  oppose  them,  but  the  prelates  were  all 
in  favor  of  King  Fernando.  On  his  approach 
to  Leon,  the  bishops  and  clergy  and  all  the  prin- 
cipal inhabitants  came  forth  to  receive  him,  and 
conduct  him  to  the  cathedral,  where  he  received 
their  homage,  and  was  proclaimed  king,  with  the 
Te  Dciims  of  the  choir  and  the  shouts  of  the 
people. 

Dona  Theresa,  who,  with  her  daughters,  was  in 
Galicia,  finding  the  kingdom  thus  disposed  of, 
sent  to  demand  provision  for  herself  and  the  two 
princesses,  who  in  fact  were  step-sisters  of  King 
Fernando.  Queen  Berenguela,  though  she  had 
some  reason  not  to  feel  kindly  disposed  toward 
Dona  Theresa,  who  she  might  think  had  been 
exercising  a  secret  influence  over  her  late  hus- 
band, yet  suppressed  all  such  feelings,  and  un- 


*  The  hiatus,  here  noted  by  the  author,  has  evidently 
arisen  from  the  loss  of  a  leaf  of  his  manuscript.  The 
printed  line  which  precedes  the  parenthesis  concludes 
page  32  of  the  manuscript ;  the  line  which  follows  it 
begins  page  34.  The  intermediate  page  is  wanting.  1 
presume  the  author  did  not  become  conscious  of  his 
loss  until  he  had  resorted  to  his  manuscript  for  revision, 
and  that  he  could  not  depend  upon  his  memory  to  sup- 
ply what  was  wanting  without  a  fresh  resort  to  authori- 
ties not  at  hand.  Hence  a  postponement  and  ultimate 
omission.  The  missing  leaf  would  scarce  have  filled 
half  a  column  of  print,  and,  it  would  seem  from  the  con- 
text, must  have  related  the  invasion  of  Andalusia  by 
Fernando  and  the  ravages  committed  by  his  armies. — 
ED. 


dertook  to  repair  in  person  to  Galicia,  and 
negotiate  this  singular  family  question.  She  had 
an  interview  with  Queen  Theresa  at  Valencia  de 
Merlio  in  Galicia,  and  arranged  a  noble  dower 
for  her,  and  an  annual  revenue  to  each  of  her 
daughters  of  thirty  thousand  maravedis  of  gold. 
The  king  then  had  a  meeting  with  his  sisters  at 
Benevente,  where  they  resigned  all  pretensions 
to  the  throne.  All  the  fortified  places  which  held 
out  for  them  were  given  up,  and  thus  Fernando 
became  undisputed  sovereign  of  the  two  king- 
doms of  Castile  and  Leon. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EXPEDITION  OF  THE  PRINCE  ALONZO  AGAINST 
THE  MOORS. — ENCAMPS  ON  THE  BANKS  OF 
THE  GUADALETE. — ABEN  HUD  MARCHES 
OUT  FROM  XEREZ  AND  GIVES  BATTLE. — 
PROWESS  OF  GARCIA  PEREZ  DE  VARGAS. — 
FLIGHT  AND  PURSUIT  OF  THE  MOORS. — 
MIRACLE  OF  THE  BLESSED  SANTIAGO. 

KING  FERNANDO  III.,  having,  through  the 
sage  counsel  and  judicious  management  of  his 
mother,  made  this  amicable  agreement  with  his 
step-sisters,  by  which  he  gained  possession  of 
their  inheritance,  now  found  his  territories  to  ex- 
tend from  the  Bay  of  Biscay  to  the  vicinity  of  the 
Guadalquivir,  and  from  the  borders  of  Portugal 
to  those  of  Aragon  and  Valencia  ;  and  in  addi- 
tion to  his  titles  of  King  of  Castile  and  Lccn, 
called  himself  King  of  Spain  by  seigniorial  right. 
Being  at  peace  with  all  his  Christian  neighbors, 
he  now  prepared  to  carry  on,  with  more  zeal  and 
vigor  than  ever,  his  holy  wars  against  the  infidels. 
While  making  a  progress,  however,  through  his 
dominions,  administering  justice,  he  sent  his 
brother,  the  Prince  Alonzo,  to  make  an  expedi- 
tion into  the  country  of  the  Moors,  and  to  attack 
the  newly  risen  power  of  Aben  Hud 

As  the  Prince  Alonzo  was  young  ana  of  little 
experience,  the  king  sent  Don  Alvar  Perez  de 
Castro,  the  Castilian,  with  him  as  captain,  he 
being  stout  of  heart,  strong  of  hand,  and  skilled 
in  war.  The  prince  and  his  captain  went  from 
Salamanca  to  Toledo,  where  they  recruited  their 
force  with  a  troop  of  cavalry.  Thence  they  pro- 
ceeded to  Andujar,  where  they  sent  out  corre- 
dores,  or  light  foraging  troops,  who  laid  waste  the 
country,  plundering  and  destroying  and  bringing 
off  great  booty.  Thence  they  directed  their 
ravaging  course  toward  Cordova,  assaulted  and 
carried  Palma,  and  put  all  its  inhabitants  to  the 
sword.  Following  the  fertile  valley  of  the  Guad- 
alquivir, they  scoured  the  vicinity  of  Seville,  and 
continued  onward  for  Xerez,  sweeping  off  cattle 
and  sheep  from  the  pastures  of  Andalusia  ;  driv- 
ing on  long  cavalgadas  of  horses  and  mules  laden 
with  spoil  ;  until  the  earth  shook  with  the  tramp- 
ing of  their  feet,  and  their  course  was  marked  by 
clouds  of  dust  and  the  smoke  of  burning  villages. 

In  this  desolating  foray  they  were  joined  by 
two  hundred  horse  and  three  hundred  foot,  Moor- 
ish allies,  or  rather  vassals,  being  led  by  the  son 
of  Aben  Mohamed,  the  king  of  Baeza. 

Arrived  within  sight  of  Xerez,  they  pitched 
their  tents  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalete — that 
fatal  river,  sadly  renowned  in  the  annals  of  Spain 
'for  the  overthrow  of  Roderick  and  the  perdition 
of  the  kingdom. 

Here  a  good  watch  was  set  over  the  captured 
flocks  and  herds  which  covered  the  adjacent 


'CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


4G9 


meadows,  while  the  soldiers,  fatigued  with  rav- 
age, gave  themselves  up  to  repose  on  the  banks 
of  the  river,  or  indulged  in  feasting  and  revelry, 
or  gambled  with  each  other  for  their  booty. 

In  the  meantime  Aben  Hud,  hearing  of  this 
inroad,  summoned  all  his  chivalry  of  the  seaboard 
of  Andalusia  to  meet  him  in  Xerez.  They 
hastened  to  obey  his  call ;  every  leader  spurred 
for  Xerez  with  his  band  of  vassals.  Thither  came 
also  the  king  of  the  Azules,  with  seven  hundred 
horsemen,  Moors  of  Africa,  light,  vigorous,  and 
active  ;  and  the  city  was  full  of  troops. 

The  camp  of  Don  Alonzo  had  a  formidable  ap- 
pearance at  a  distance,  from  the  flocks  and  herds 
which  surrounded  it,  the  vast  number  of  sumpter 
mules,  and  the  numerous  captives ;  but  when 
Aben  Hud  came  to  reconnoitre  it,  he  found  that 
its  aggregate  force  did  not  exceed  three  thousand 
five  hundred  men — a  mere  handful  in  comparison 
to  his  army,  and  those  encumbered  with  cattle 
and  booty.  He  anticipated,  therefore,  an  easy  vic- 
tory. He  now  sallied  forth  from  the  city,  and 
took  his  position  in  the  olive-fields  between  the 
Christians  and  the  city ;  while  the  African  horse- 
men were  stationed  on  each  wing,  with  instruc- 
tions to  hem  in  the  Christians  on  either  side,  for 
he  was  only  apprehensive  of  their  escaping.  It  is 
even  said  that  he  ordered  great  quantities  of  cord 
to  be  brought  from  the  city,  and  osier  bands  to 
be  made  by  the  soldiery,  wherewith  to  bind  the 
multitude  of  prisoners  about  to  fall  into  their 
hands.  His  whole  force  he  divided  into  seven 
battalions,  each  containing  from  fifteen  hundred 
to  two  thousand  cavalry.  With  these  he  pre- 
pared to  give  battle. 

When  the  Christians  thus  saw  an  overwhelm- 
ing force  in  front,  cavalry  hovering  on  either 
flank,  and  the  deep  waters  of  the  Guadalete  be- 
hind them,  they  felt  the  peril  of  their  situation. 

In  this  emergency  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro 
showed  himself  the  able  captain  that  he  had  been 
represented.  Though  apparently  deferring  to  the 
prince  in  council,  he  virtually  took  the  command, 
riding  among  the  troops  lightly  armed,  with 
truncheon  in  hand,  encouraging  every  one  by 
word  and  look  and  fearless  demeanor.  To  give 
the  most  formidable  appearance  to  their  little 
host,  he  ordered  that  as  many  as  possible  of  the 
foot  soldiers  should  mount  upon  the  mules  and 
beasts  of  burden,  and  form  a  troop  to  be  kept  in 
reserve.  Before  the  battle  he  conferred  the  honor 
of  knighthood  on  Garcia  Perez  de  Vargas,  a  cav- 
alier destined  to  gain  renown  for  hardy  deeds  of 
arms.  t 

When  the  troops  were  all  ready  for  the  field, 
the  prince  exhorted  them  as  good  Christians  to 
confess  their  sins  and  obtain  absolution.  There 
was  a  goodly  number  of  priests  and  friars  with 
the  army,  as  there  generally  was  with  all  the 
plundering  expeditions  of  this  holy  war,  but  there 
were  not  enough  to  confess  all  the  army  ;  those, 
therefore,  who  could  not  have  a  priest  or  monk 
for  the  purpose,  confessed  to  each  other. 

Among  the  cavaliers  were  two  noted  for  their 
valor  ;  but  who,  though  brothers-in-law,  lived  in 
mortal  feud.  One  was  Diego  Perez,  vassal  to 
Alvar  Perez  and  brother  to  him  who  had  just 
been  armed  knight ;  the  other  was  Pero  Miguel 
both  natives  of  Toledo.  Diego  Perez  was  the 
one  who  had  given  cause  of  offence.  He  now  ap- 
proached his  adversary  and  asked  his  pardon  for 
that  day  only  ;  that,  in  a  time  of  such  mortal 
peril  there  might  not  be  enmity  and  malice  in 
their  hearts.  The  priests  added  their  exhorta- 
tions to  this  request,  but  Pero  Miguel  sternly 


refused  to  pardon.  When  this  was  told  to  the 
prince  and  Don  Alvar,  they  likewise  entreated 
Don  Miguel  to  pardon  his  brother-in-law.  "  I 
will,"  replied  he,  "  if  he  will  come  to  my  arms 
and  embrace  me  as  a  brother."  But  Diego  Perez 
declined  the  fraternal  embrace,  for  he  saw  dan- 
ger in  the  eye  of  Pero  Miguel,  and  he  knew  his 
savage  strength  and  savage  nature,  and  suspected 
that  he  meant  to  strangle  him.  So  Pero  Miguel 
went  into  battle  without  pardoning  his  enemy 
who  had  implored  forgiveness. 

At  this  time,  say  the  old  chroniclers,  the  shouts 
and  yells  of  the  Moorish  army,  the  sounds  of 
their  cymbals,  kettle-drums,  and  other  instru- 
ments of  warlike  music,  were  so  great  that  heaven 
and  earth  seemed  commingled  and  confounded. 
In  regarding  the  battle  about  to  overwhelm  him, 
Alvar  Perez  saw  that  the  only  chance  was  to  form 
the  whole  army  into  one  mass,  and  by  a  headlong 
assault  to  break  the  centre  of  the  enemy.  In 
this  emergency  he  sent  word  to  the  prince,  who 
was  in  the  rear  with  the  reserve  and  had  five  hun- 
dred captives  in  charge,  to  strike  off  the  heads  of 
the  captives  and  join  him  with  the  whole  reserve. 
This  bloody  order  was  obeyed.  The  prince 
came  to  the  front,  all  formed  together  in  one 
dense  column,  and  then,  with  the  war-cry 
"  Santiago  !  Santiago !  Castile  !  Castile  ! "  charged 
upon  the  centre  of  the  enemy.  The  Moors'  line 
was  broken  by  the  shock,  squadron  after  squad- 
ron was  thrown  into  confusion,  Moors  and  Chris- 
tians were  intermingled,  until  the  field  became 
one  scene  of  desperate,  chance-medley  fighting. 
Every  Christian  cavalier  fought  as  if  the  salvation 
of  the  field  depended  upon  his  single  arm.  Gar- 
cia Perez  de  Vargas,  who  had  been  knighted  just 
before  the  battle,  proved  himself  worthy  of  the 
honor.  He  had  three  horses  killed  under  him, 
and  engaged  in  a  desperate  combat  with  the  King 
of  the  Azules,  whom  at  length  he  struck  dead 
from  his  horse.  The  king  had  crossed  from  Af- 
rica on  a  devout  expedition  in  the  cause  of  the 
Prophet  Mahomet.  "Verily,"  says  Antonio 
Agapida,  "  he  had  his  reward." 

Diego  Perez  was  not  behind  his  brother  in 
prowess  ;  and  Heaven  favored  him  in  that  deadly 
fight,  notwithstanding  that  he  had  not  been  par- 
doned by  his  enemy.  In  the  heat  of  the  battle 
he  had  broken  both  sword  and  lance ;  where- 
upon, tearing  off  a  great  knotted  limb  from  an 
olive-tree,  he  laid  about  him  with  such  vigor  and 
manhood  that  he  who  got  one  blow  in  the  head 
from  that  war-club  never  needed  another.  Don 
Alvar  Perez,  who  witnessed  his  feats,  was  seized 
with  delight.  At  each  fresh  blow  that  cracked  a 
Moslem  skull  he  would  cry  out,  "  Assi !  Assi ! 
Diego,  Machacha!  Machacha ! "  (So!  So!  Di- 
ego, smash  them  !  smash  them  ! )  and  from  that 
day  forward  that  strong-handed  cavalier  went  by 
the  name  of  Diego  Machacha,  or  Diego  the 
Smasher,  and  it  remained  the  surname  of  several 
of  his  lineage. 

At  length  the  Moors  gave  way  and  fled  for  the 
gates  of  Xerez  ;  being  hotly  pursued  they  stum- 
bled over  the  bodies  of  the  slain,  and  thus  many 
were  taken  prisoners.  At  the  gates  the  press 
was  so  great  that  they  killed  each  other  in  striv- 
ing to  enter ;  and  the  Christian  sword  made 
slaughter  under  the  walls. 

The  Christians  gathered  spoils  of  the  field, 
after  this  victory,  until  they  were  fatigued  with 
collecting  them,  and  the  precious  articles  found 
in  the  Moorish  tents  were  beyond  calculation. 
Their  camp-fires  were  supplied  with  the  shafts  of 
broken  lances,  and  they  found  ample  use  for  the 


470 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


cords  and  osier  bands  which  the  Moors  had  pro- 
vided to  bind  their  expected  captives. 

It  was  a  theme  of  much  marvel  and  solemn 
meditation  that  of  all  the  distinguished  cavaliers 
who  entered  into  this  battle,  not  one  was  lost, 
excepting  the  same  Pero  Miguel  who  refused  to 
pardon  his  adversary.  What  became  of  him  no 
one  could  tell.  The  last  that  was  seen  of  him  he 
was  in  the  midst  of  the  enemy,  cutting  down  and 
overturning,  for  he  was  a  valiant  warrior  and  of 
prodigious  strength.  When  the  battle  and  pur- 
suit were  at  an  end,  and  the  troops  were  recalled 
by  sound  of  trumpet,  he  did  not  appear.  His 
tent  remained  empty.  The  field  of  battle  was 
searched,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  Some 
supposed  that,  in  his  fierce  eagerness  to  make 
havoc  among  the  Moors,  he  had  entered  the  gates 
of  the  city  and  there  been  slain  ;  but  his  fate  re- 
mained a  mere  matter  of  conjecture,  and  the 
whole  was  considered  an  awful  warning  that  no 
Christian  should  go  into  battle  without  pardoning 
those  who  asked  forgiveness. 

"  On  this  day,"  says  the  worthy  Agapida,  "  it 
pleased  Heaven  to  work  one  of  its  miracles  in 
favor  of  the  Christian  host ;  for  the  blessed  San- 
tiago appeared  in  the  air  on  a  white  horse,  with 
a  white  banner  in  one  hand  and  a  sword  in  the 
other,  accompanied  by  a  band  of  cavaliers  in 
white.  This  miracle,"  he  adds,  "  was  beheld  by 
many  men  of  verity  and  worth,"  probably  the 
monks  and  priests  who  accompanied  the  army ; 
"  as  well  as  by  members  of  the  Moors,  who  de- 
clared that  the  greatest  slaughter  was  effected  by 
those  sainted  warriors." 

It  may  be  as  well  to  add  that  Fray  Antonio 
Agapida  is  supported  in  this  marvellous  fact  by 
Rodrigo,  Archbishop  of  Toledo,  one  of  the  most 
learned  and  pious  men  of  the  age,  who  lived  at 
the  time  and  records  it  in  his  chronicle.  It  is  a 
matter,  therefore,  placed  beyond  the  doubts  of 
the  profane. 

NOTE  BY  THE  EDITOR. — A  memorandum  at  the  foot 
of  this  page  of  the  author's  manuscript,  reminds  him  to 
"  notice  death  of  Queen  Beatrix  about  this  time,"  but 
the  text  continues  silent  on  the  subject.  According  to 
Mariana,  she  died  in  the  city  of  Toro  in  1235,  before 
the  siege  of  Cordova.  Another  authority  gives  the  5th 
of  November,  1236,  as  the  date  of  the  decease,  which 
would  be  some  months  after  the  downfall  of  that  re- 
nowned city.  Her  body  was  interred  in  the  nunnery  of 
Las  Huelgas  at  Burgos,  and  many  years  afterward  re- 
moved to  Seville,  where  reposed  the  remains  of  her 
husband. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  BOLD   ATTEMPT    UPON    CORDOVA,   THE    SEAT 
OF   MOORISH   POWER. 

ABOUT  this  time  certain  Christian  cavaliers  of 
the  frontiers  received  information  from  Moorish 
captives  that  the  noble  city  of  Cordova  was  neg- 
ligently guarded,  so  that  the  suburbs  might  easily 
be  surprised.  They  immediately  concerted  a 
bold  attempt,  and  sent  to  Pedro  .and  Alvar  Perez, 
who  were  at  Martos,  entreating  them  to  aid  them 
with  their  vassals.  Having  collected  a  sufficient 
force,  and  prepared  scaling  ladders,  they  ap- 
proached the  city  on  a  dark  night  in  January, 
amid  showers  of  rain  and  howling  blasts,  which 
prevented  their  footsteps  being  heard.  Arrived 
at  the  foot  of  the  ramparts,  they  listened,  but 
could  hear  no  sentinel.  The  guards  had  shrunk 
into  the  watch  towers  for  shelter  from  the  pelting 


storm,  and  the  garrison  was  in  profound  sleep, 
for  it  was  the  midwatch  of  the  night. 

Some,  disheartened  by  the  difficulties  of  the 
place,  were  for  abandoning  the  attempt,  but 
Domingo  Mufloz,  their  adalid,  or  guide,  encour- 
aged them.  Silently  fastening  ladders  together, 
so  as  to  be  of  sufficient  length,  they  placed  them 
against  one  of  the  towers.  The  first  who  mounted 
were  Alvar  Colodro  and  Benito  de  Banos,  who 
were  dressed  as  Moors  and  spoke  the  Arabic 
language.  The  tower  which  they  scaled  is  to 
this  day  called  the  tower  of  Alvar  Colodro. 
Entering  it  suddenly  but  silently,  they  found  four 
Moors  asleep,  whom  they  seized  and  threw  over 
the  battlements,  and  the  Christians  below  imme- 
diately dispatched  them.  By  this  time  a  number 
more  of  Christians  had  mounted  the  ladder,  and 
sallying  forth,  sword  in  hand,  upon  the  wall,  they 
gained  possession  of  several  towers  and  of  the 
gate  of  Martos.  Throwing  open  the  gate,  Pero 
Ruyz  Tabur  galloped  in  at  the  head  of  a  squad- 
ron of  horse,  and  by  the  dawn  of  day  the  whole 
suburbs  of  Cordova,  called  the  Axarquia,  were  in 
their  possession  ;  the  inhabitants  having  hastily 
gathered  such  of  their  most  valuable  effects  as 
they  could  carry  with  them,  and  taken  refuge  in 
the  city. 

The  cavaliers  now  barricaded  every  street  of 
the  suburbs  excepting  the  principal  one,  which 
was  broad  and  straight ;  the  Moors,  however, 
made  frequent  sallies  upon  them,  or  showered 
down  darts  and  arrows  and  stones  from  the  walls 
and  towers  of  the  city.  The  cavaliers  soon 
found  that  they  had  got  into  warm  quarters, 
which  it  would  cost  them  blood  and  toil  to  main- 
tain. They  sent  off  messengers,  therefore,  to 
Don  Alvar  Perez,  then  at  Martos,  and  to  King 
Fernando,  at  Benevente,  craving  instant  aid. 
The  messenger  to  the  king  travelled  day  and 
night,  and  found  the  king  at  table  ;  when,  kneel- 
ing down,  he  presented  the  letter  with  which  he 
was  charged. 

No  sooner  had  the  king  read  the  letter  than 
he  called  for  horse  and  weapon.  All  Benevente 
instantly  resounded  with  the  clang  of  arms  and 
tramp  of  steed  ;  couriers  galloped  off  in  every 
direction,  rousing  the  towns  and  villages  to  arms, 
and  ordering  every  one  to  join  the  king  on  the 
frontier.  "Cordova!  Cordova!"  was  the  war- 
cry — that  proud  city  of  the  infidels !  that  seat 
of  Moorish  power !  The  king  waited  not  to  as- 
semble a  great  force,  but,  within  an  hour  after 
receiving  the  letter,  was  on  the  road  with  a  hun- 
dred good  cavaliers. 

It  was  the  depth  of  winter  ;  the  rivers  were 
swollen  with  rain.  The  royal  party  were  often 
obliged  to  halt  on  the  bank  of  some  raging 
stream  until  its  waters  should  subside.  The 
king  was  all  anxiety  and  impatience.  Cordova  ! 
Cordova  !  was  the  prize  to  be  won,  and  the  cava- 
liers might  be  driven  out  of  the  suburbs  before 
he  could  arrive  to  their  assistance. 

Arrived  at  Cordova,  he  proceeded  to  the 
bridge  of  Alcolea,  where  he  pitched  his  tents 
and  displayed  the  royal  standard. 

Before  the  arrival  of  the  king,  Alvar  Perez  had 
hastened  from  the  castle  of  Martos  with  a  body 
of  troops,  and  thrown  himself  into  the  suburbs. 
Many  warriors,  both  horse  and  foot,  had  like- 
wise hastened  from  the  frontiers  and  from  the 
various  towns  to  which  the  king  had  sent  his 
mandates.  Some  came  to  serve  the  king,  others 
out  of  devotion  to  the  holy  faith,  some  to  gain 
renown,  and  not  a  few  to  aid  in  plundering  the 
rich  city  of  Cordova.  There  were  many  monks, 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


471 


also,  who  had  come  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
benefit  of  their  convents. 

When  the  Christians  in  the  suburbs  saw  the 
royal  standard  floating  above  the  camp  of  the 
king,  they  shouted  for  joy,  and  in  the  exultation 
of  the  moment,  forgot  all  past  dangers  and  hard- 
ships. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  SPY  IN  THE  CHRISTIAN  CAMP. — DEATH  OF 
ABEN  HUD. — A  VITAL  BLOW  TO  MOSLEM 
POWER. — SURRENDER  OF  CORDOVA  TO  KING 
FERNANDO. 

ADEN  HUD,  the  Moorish  chief,  who  had  been 
defeated  by  Alvar  Perez  and  Prince  Alonzo  be- 
fore Xerez,  was  at  this  time  in  Ecija  with  a  large 
force,  and  disposed  to  hasten  to  the  aid  of  Cor- 
dova, but  his  recent  defeat  had  made  him  cau- 
tious. He  had  in  his  camp  a  Christian  cavalier, 
Don  Lorenzo  Xuares  by  name,  who  had  been 
banished  from  Castile  by  King  Fernando.  This 
cavalier  offered  to  go  as  a  spy  into  the  Christian 
camp,  accompanied  by  three  Christian  horse- 
men, and  to  bring  accounts  of  its  situation  and 
strength.  His  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  and 
Aben  Hud  promised  to  do  nothing  with  his  forces 
until  his  return. 

Don  Lorenzo  set  out  privately  with  his  com- 
panions, and  when  he  came  to  the  end  of  the 
bridge  he  alighted  and  took  one  of  the  three  with 
him,  leaving  the  other  two  to  guard  the  horses. 
He  entered  the  camp  without  impediment,  and 
saw  that  it  was  small  and  of  but  little  force  ;  for, 
though  recruits  had  repaired  from  all  quarters, 
they  had  as  yet  arrived  in  but  scanty  numbers. 

As  Don  Lorenzo  approached  the  camp  he  saw 
a  montero  who  stood  sentinel.  "  Friend,"  said 
he,  "  do  me  the  kindness  to  call  to  me  some  per- 
son who  is  about  the  king,  as  I  have  something 
to  tell  him  of  great  importance."  The  sentinel 
went  in  and  brought  out  Don  Otiella.  Don  Lo- 
renzo took  him  aside  and  said,  "  Do  you  not 
know  me  ?  I  am  Don  Lorenzo.  I  pray  you  tell 
the  king  that  I  entreat  permission  to  enter  and 
communicate  matters  touching  his  safety." 

Don  Otiella  went  in  and  awoke  the  king,  who 
was  sleeping,  and  obtained  permission  for  Don 
Lorenzo  to  enter.  When  the  king  beheld  him 
he  was  wroth  at  his  presuming  to  return  from 
exile;  but  Don  Lorenzo  replied, — "  Senor,  your 
majesty  banished  me  to  the  land  of  the  Moors  to 
do  me  harm,  but  I  believe  it  was  intended  by 
Heaven  for  the  welfare  both  of  your  majesty  and 
myself."  Then  he  apprized  the  king  of  the  in- 
tention of  Aben  Hud  to  come  with  a  great  force 
against  him,  and  of  the  doubts  and  fears  he  en- 
tertained lest  the  army  of  the  king  should  be  too 
powerful.  Don  Lorenzo,  therefore,  advised  the 
king  to  draw  off  as  many  troops  as  could  be 
spared  from  the  suburbs  of  Cordova,  and  to  give 
his  camp  as  formidable  an  aspect  as  possible  ; 
and  that  he  would  return  and  give  Aben  Hud 
such  an  account  of  the  power  of  the  royal  camp 
as  would  deter  him  from  the  attack.  "  If,"  con- 
tinued Don  Lorenzo,  "  I  fail  in  diverting  him 
from  his  enterprise,  I  will  come  off  with  all  my 
vassals  and  offer  myself,  and  all  I  can  command, 
for  the  service  of  your  majesty,  and  hope  to  be 
accepted  for  my  good  intentions.  As  to  what 
takes  place  in  the  Moorish  camp,  from  hence,  in 
three  days,  I  will  send  your  majesty  letters  by 
this  my  esquire." 


The  king  thanked  Don  Lorenzo  for  his  good 
intentions,  and  pardoned  him,  and  took  him  as 
his  vassal;  and  Don  Lorenzo  said  :  "  I  beseech 
your  majesty  to  order  that  for  three  or  four  nights 
there  be  made  great  fires  in  various  parts  of  the 
camp,  so  that  in  case  Aben  Hud  should  send 
scouts  by  night,  there  may  be  the  appearance  of 
a  great  host."  The  king  promised  it  should  be 
done,  and  Don  Lorenzo  took  his  leave  ;  rejoining 
his  companions  at  the  bridge,  they  mounted 
their  horses  and  travelled  all  night  and  returned 
to  Ecija. 

When  Don  Lorenzo  appeared  in  presence  of 
Aben  Hud  he  had  the  air  of  one  fatigued  and 
careworn.  To  the  inquiries  of  the  Moor  he  re- 
turned answers  full  of  alarm,  magnifying  the 
power  and  condition  of  the  royal  forces.  "  Senor," 
added  he,  "  if  you  would  be  assured  of  the  truth 
of  what  I  say,  send  out  your  scouts,  and  they  will 
behold  the  Christian  tents  whitening  all  the  banks 
of  the  Guadalquivir,  and  covering  the  country  as 
the  snow  covers  the  mountains  of  Granada;  or  at 
night  they  will  see  fires  on  hill  and  dale  illumin- 
ing all  the  land." 

This  intelligence  redoubled  the  doubts  and  ap- 
prehensions of  Aben  Hud.  On  the  following  day 
two  Moorish  horsemen  arrived  in  all  haste  from 
Zaen,  King  of  Valencia,  informing  him  that  King 
James  of  Aragon  was  coming  against  that  place 
with  a  powerful  army,  and  offering  him  the  su- 
premacy of  the  place  if  he  would  hasten  with  all 
speed  to  its  relief. 

Aben  Hud,  thus  perplexed  between  two  objects, 
asked  advice  of  his  counsellors,  among  whom  was 
the  perfidious  Don  Lorenzo.  They  observed  that 
the  Christians,  though  they  had  possession  of  the 
suburbs  of  Cordova,  could  not  for  a  long  time 
master  the  place.  He  would  have  time,  there- 
fore, to  relieve  Valencia,  and  then  turn  his  arms 
and  those  of  King  Zaen  against  the  host  of  King 
Fernando. 

Aben  Hud  listened  to  their  advice,  and  marched 
immediately  for  Almeria,  to  take  thence  his  ships 
to  guard  the  port  of  Valencia.  While  at  Almeria 
a  Moor  named  Aben  Arramin,  and  who  was  his 
especial  favorite,  invited  him  to  a  banquet.  The 
unsuspecting  Aben  Hud  threw  off  his  cares  for 
the  time,  and  giving  loose  to  conviviality  in  the 
house  of  his  favorite,  drank  freely  of  the  wine- 
cup  that  was  insidiously  pressed  upon  him,  until 
he  became  intoxicated.  He  was  then  suffocated 
by  the  traitor  in  a  trough  of  water,  and  it  was 
given  out  that  he  had  died  of  apoplexy. 

At  the  death  of  Aben  Hud,  his  host  fell  asunder, 
and  every  one  hied  him  to  his  home,  whereupon 
Don  Lorenzo  and  the  Christians  who  were  with 
him  hastened  to  King  Fernando,  by  whom  they 
were  graciously  received  and  admitted  into  his 
royal  service. 

The  death  of  Aben  Hud  was  a  vital  blow  to 
Moslem  power,  and  spread  confusion  throughout 
Andalusia.  When  the  people  of  Cordova  heard 
of  it,  and  of  the  dismemberment  of  his  army,  all 
courage  withered  from  their  hearts.  Day  after 
day  the  army  of  King  Fernando  was  increasing, 
the  roads  were  covered  with  foot- soldiers  hasten- 
ing to  his  standard  ;  every  hidalgo  who  could 
bestride  a  horse  spurred  to  the  banks  of  the  Gua- 
dalquivir to  be  present  at  the  downfall  of  Cordova. 
The  noblest  cavaliers  of  Castile  were  continually 
seen  marching  into  the  camp  with  banners  flying 
and  long  trains  of  retainers. 

The  inhabitants  held  out  as  long  as  there  was 
help  or  hope  ;  but  they  were  exhausted  by  fre- 
quent combats  and  long  and  increasing  famine, 


472 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE    SAINT. 


and  now  the  death  of  Aben  Hud  cut  off  all 
chance  of  succor.  With  sad  and  broken  spirits, 
therefore,  they  surrendered  their  noble  city  to 
King  Fernando,  after  a  siege  of  six  months  and 
six  days.  The  surrender  took  place  on  Sunday, 
the  twenty-ninth  day  of  July,  the  feast  of  the 
glorious  Apostles  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  in  the 
year  of  the  Incarnation  one  thousand  two  hundred 
and  thirty-six. 

The  inhabitants  were  permitted  to  march  forth 
in  personal  safety,  but  to  take  nothing  with  them. 
"  Thus,"  exclaims  the  pious  Agapida,  "  was  the 
city  of  Cordova,  the  queen  of  the  cities  of  Anda- 
lusia, which  so  long  had  been  the  seat  of  the 
power  and  grandeur  of  the  Moors,  cleansed  from 
all  the  impurities  of  Mahomet  and  restored  to  the 
dominion  of  the  true  faith." 

King  Fernando  immediately  ordered  the  cross 
to  be  elevated  on  the  tower  of  the  principal 
mosque,  and  beside  it  the  royal  standard  ;  while 
the  bishops,  the  clergy,  and  all  the  people  chanted 
Te  Deum  Laudamns,  as  a  song  of  triumph  for 
this  great  victory  of  the  faith.* 

The  king,  having  now  gained  full  possession  of 
the  city,  began  to  repair,  embellish,  and  improve 
it.  The  grand  mosque,  the  greatest  and  most 
magnificent  in  Spain,  was  now  converted  into  a 
holy  Catholic  church.  The  bishops  and  other 
clergy  walked  round  it  in  solemn  procession, 
sprinkling  holy  water  in  every  nook  and  corner, 
and  performing  all  other  rites  and  ceremonies 
necessary  to  purify  and  sanctify  it.  They  erected 
an  altar  in  it,  also,  in  honor  of  the  Virgin,  and 
chanted  masses  with  great  fervor  and  unction. 
In  this  way  they  consecrated  it  to  the  true  faith, 
and  made  it  the  cathedral  of  the  city. 

In  this  mosque  were  found  the  bells  of  the 
church  of  San  lago  in  Gallicia,  which  the  Alhagib 
Almanzor,  in  the  year  of  our  Redemption  nine 
hundred  and  seventy-five,  had  brought  off  in  tri- 
umph and  placed  here,  turned  with  their  mouths 
upward  to  serve  as  lamps,  and  remain  shining 
mementos  of  his  victory.  King  Fernando  ordered 
that  these  bells  should  be  restored  to  the  church 
of  San  lago  ;  and  as  Christians  had  been  obliged 
to  bring  those  bells  hither  on  their  shoulders,  so 
infidels  were  compelled  in  like  manner  to  carry 
them  back.  Great  was  the  popular  triumph  when 
these  bells  had  their  tongues  restored  to  them, 
and  were  once  more  enabled  to  fill  the  air  with 
their  holy  clangor. 

Having  ordered  all  things  for  the  security  and 
welfare  of  the  city,  the  king  placed  it  under  the 
government  of  Don  Tello  Alonzo  de  Meneses  ; 
he  appointed  Don  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro,  also, 
general  of  the  frontier,  having  its  stronghold  in 
the  castle  of  the  rock  of  Martos.  The  king 
then  returned,  covered  with  glory,  to  Toledo. 

The  fame  of  the  recovery  of  the  renowned 
city  of  Cordova,  which  for  five  hundred  and 
twenty-two  years  had  been  in  the  power  of  the 
infidels,  soon  spread  throughout  the  kingdom, 
and  people  came  crowding  from  every  part  to 
inhabit  it.  The  gates  which  lately  had  been 
thronged  with  steel-clad  warriors  were  now  be- 
sieged by  peaceful  wayfarers  of  all  kinds,  con- 
ducting trains  of  mules  laden  with  their  effects 
and  all  their  household  wealth  ;  and  so  great  was 
the  throng  that  in  a  little  while  there  were  not 
houses  sufficient  to  receive  them. 

King  Fernando,  having  restored  the  bells  to 
San  lago,  had  others  suspended  in  the  tower  of 
the  mosque,  whence  the  muezzin  had  been  accus- 

*  Cron.  Gen.  de  Espafia,  pt.  4.    Bleda,  lib.  4,  c.  IO. 


tomcd  to  call  the  Moslems  to  their  worship. 
"  When  the  pilgrims,"  says  Fray  Antonio  Aga- 
pida, "  who  repaired  to  Cordova,  heard  the  holy 
sound  of  these  bells  chiming  from  the  tower  of 
the  cathedral,  their  hearts  leaped  for  joy,  and 
they  invoked  blessings  on  the  head  of  the  pious 
Kinsr  Fernando." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MARRIAGE  OF  KING  FERNANDO  TO  THE  PRIN- 
CESS JUANA. — FAMINE  AT  CORDOVA. — DON 
ALVAR  PEREZ. 

WHEN  Queen  Berenguela  beheld  King  Fer- 
nando returning  in  triumph  from  the  conquest  of 
Cordova,  her  heart  was  lifted  up  with  transport, 
for  there  is  nothing  that  more  rejoices  the  heart 
of  a  mother  than  the  true  glory  of  her  son.  The 
queen,  however,  as  has  been  abundantly  shown, 
was  a  woman  of  great  sagacity  and  forecast.  She 
considered  that  upwards  of  two  years  had  elapsed 
since  the  death  of  the  Queen  Beatrix,  and  that 
her  son  was  living  in  widowhood.  It  is  true  he 
was  of  quiet  temperament,  and  seemed  suffi- 
ciently occupied  by  the  cares  of  government  and 
the  wars  for  the  faith  ;  so  that  apparently  he  had 
no  thought  of  further  matrimony  ;  but  the  shrewd 
mother  considered  likewise  that  he  was  in  the 
prime  and  vigor  of  his  days,  renowned  in  arms, 
noble  and  commanding  in  person,  and  gracious 
and  captivating  in  manners,  and  surrounded  by 
the  temptations  of  a  court.  True,  he  was  a  saint 
in  spirit,  but  after  all  in  flesh  he  was  a  man,  and 
might  be  led  away  into  those  weaknesses  very 
incident  to,  but  highly  unbecoming  of,  the  ex- 
alted state  of  princes.  The  good  mother  was 
anxious,  therefore,  that  he  should  enter  again 
into  the  secure  and  holy  state  of  wedlock. 

King  Fernando,  a  mirror  of  obedience  to  his 
mother,  readily  concurred  with  her  views  in  the 
present  instance,  and  left  it  to  her  judgment  and 
discretion  to  make  a  choice  for  him.  The  choice 
fell  upon  the  Princess  Juana,  daughter  of  the 
Count  of  Pothier,  and  a  descendant  of  Louis  the 
Seventh  of  France.  The  marriage  was  negotiated 
by  Queen  Berenguela  with  the  Count  of  Pothier  ; 
and  the  conditions  being  satisfactorily  arranged, 
the  princess  was  conducted  in  due  state  to  Burgos, 
where  the  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  great 
pomp  and  ceremony. 

The  king,  as  well  as  his  subjects,  was  highly 
satisfied  with  the  choice  of  the  sage  Berenguela, 
for  the  bride  was  young,  beautiful,  and  of  stately 
form,  and  conducted  herself  with  admirable 
suavity  and  grace. 

After  the  rejoicings  were  over,  King  Fernando 
departed  with  his  bride,  and  visited  the  principal 
cities  and  towns  of  Castile  and  Leon  ;  receiving 
the  homage  of  his  subjects,  and  administering 
justice  according  to  the  primitive  forms  of  those 
days,  when  sovereigns  attended  personally  to  the 
petitions  and  complaints  of  their  subjects,  and 
went  about  hearing  causes  and  redressing  griev- 
ances. 

In  the  course  of  his  progress,  hearing  while  at 
Toledo  of  a  severe  famine  which  prevailed  at 
Cordova,  he  sent  a  large  supply  of"  money  to 
that  city,  and  at  the  same  time  issued  orders  to 
various  parts,  to  transport  thither  as  much  grain 
as  possible.  The  calamity,  however,  went  on 
increasing.  The  conquest  of  Cordova  had  drawn 
thither  great  multitudes,  expecting  to  thrive  on 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


473 


the  well-known  fertility  and  abundance  of  the 
country.  But  the  Moors,  in  the  agitation  of  the 
time,  had  almost  ceased  to  cultivate  their  fields  ; 
the  troops  helped  to  consume  the  supplies  on 
hand  ;  there  were  few  hands  to  labor  and  an  in- 
finity of  mouths  to  eat,  and  the  cry  of  famine 
went  on  daily  growing  more  intense. 

Upon  this,  Don  Alvar  Perez,  who  had  com- 
mand of  the  frontier,  set  off  to  represent  the 
case  in  person  to  the  king ;  for  one  living  word 
from  the  mouth  is  more  effective  than  a  thousand 
dead  words  from  the  pen.  He  found  the  king  at 
Valladolid,  deeply  immersed  in  the  religious  ex- 
ercises of  Holy  Week,  and  much  did  it  grieve 
this  saintly  monarch,  say  his  chroniclers,  to  be 
obliged  even  for  a  moment  to  quit  the  holy  quiet 
6f  the  church  for  the  worldly  bustle  of  the  pal- 
ace, to  lay  by  the  saint  and  enact  the  soverign. 
Having  heard  the  representations  of  Don  Alvar 
Perez,  he  forthwith  gave  him  ample  funds  where- 
with to  maintain  his  castles,  his  soldiers,  and 
even  the  idlers  who  thronged  about  the  frontier, 
and  who  would  be  useful  subjects  when  the 
times  should  become  settled.  Satisfied,  also,  of 
the  zeal  and  loyalty  of  Alvar  Perez,  which  had 
been  so  strikingly  displayed  in  the  present  in- 
stance, he  appointed  him  adelantado  of  the  whole 
frontier  of  Andalusia — an  office  equivalent  to  that 
at  present  called  viceroy.  Don  Alvar  hastened 
back  to  execute  his  mission  and  enter  upon  his 
new  office.  He  took  his  station  at  Martos,  in  its 
rock-built  castle,  which  was  the  key  of  all  that 
frontier,  whence  he  could  carry  relief  to  any 
point  of  his  command,  and  could  make  occa- 
sional incursions  into  the  territories.  The  fol- 
lowing chapter  will  show  the  cares  and  anxieties 
which  awaited  him  in  his  new  command. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ADEN  ALHAMAR,  FOUNDER  OF  THE  ALHAMBRA. 
— FORTIFIES  GRANADA  AND  MAKES  IT  HIS 
CAPITAL.  —  ATTEMPTS  TO  SURPRISE  THE 
CASTLE  OF  MARTOS. — PERIL  OF  THE  FORT- 
RESS.— A  WOMAN'S  STRATAGEM  TO  SAVE 
IT. — DIEGO  PEREZ,  THE  SMASHER. — DEATH 
OF  COUNT  ALVAR  PEREZ  DE  CASTRO. 

ON  the  death  of  Aben  Hud,  the  Moorish  power 
in  Spain  was  broken  up  into  factions,  as  has 
already  been  mentioned ;  but  these  factions  were 
soon  united  under  one  head,  who  threatened  to 
be  a  formidable  adversary  to  the  Christians. 
This  was  Mohammed  ben  Alhamar,  or  Aben 
Alhamar,  as  he  is  commonly  called  in  history. 
He  was  a  native  of  Arjona,  of  noble  descent, 
being  of  th'e  Beni  Nasar,  or  race  of  Nasar,  and 
had  been  educated  in  a  manner  befitting  his 
rank.  Arrived  at  manly  years,  he  had  been  ap- 
pointed alcayde  of  Arjona  and  Jaen,  and  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  the  justice  and  benignity 
of  his  rule.  He  was  intrepid,  also,  and  ambi- 
tious, and  during  the  late  dissensions  among  the 
Moslems  had  extended  his  territories,  making 
himself  master  of  many  strong  places. 

On  the  death  of  Aben  Hud,  he  made  a  mili- 
tary circuit  through  the  Moorish  territories,  and 
was  everywhere  hailed  with  acclamations  as  the 
only  one  who  could  save  the  Moslem  power  in 
Spain  from  annihilation.  At  length  he  entered 
Granada  amidst  the  enthusiastic  shouts  of  the 
populace.  Here  he  was  proclaimed  king,  and 
found  himself  at  the  head  of  the  Moslems  of 


Spain,  being  the  first  of  his  illustrious  line  that 
ever  sat  upon  a  throne.  It  needs  nothing  more 
to  give  lasting  renown  to  Aben  Alhamar  than  to 
say  he  was  the  founder  of  the  Alhambra,  that 
magnificent  monument  which  to  this  day  bears 
testimony  to  Moorish  taste  and  splendor.  As 
yet,  however,  Aben  Alhamar  had  not  time  to  in- 
dulge in  the  arts  of  peace.  He  saw  the  storm  of 
war  that  threatened  his  newly  founded  kingdom, 
and  prepared  to  buffet  with  it.  The  territories 
of  Granada  extended  along  the  coast  from  Algez- 
iras  almost  to  Murcia,  and  inland  as  far  as  Jaen 
and  Huescar.  All  the  frontiers  he  hastened  to 
put  in  a  state  of  defense,  while  lie  strongly  forti- 
fied the  city  of  Granada,  which  he  made  his 
capital. 

By  the  Mahometan  law  every  citizen  is  a  sol- 
dier, and  to  take  arms  in  defense  of  the  country 
and  the  faith  is  a  religious  and  imperative  duty. 
Aben  Alhamar,  however,  knew  the  unsteadiness 
of  hastily  levied  militia,  and  organized  a  standing 
force  to  garrison  his  forts  and  cities,  the  expense 
of  which  he  defrayed  from  his  own  revenues. 
The  Moslem  warriors  from  all  parts  now  rallied 
under  his  standard,  and  fifty  thousand  Moors 
abandoning  Valencia  on  the  conquest  of  that 
country  by  the  king  of  Aragon,  hastened  to  put 
themselves  under  the  dominion  of  Aben  Alhamar. 

Don  Alvar  Perez,  on  returning  to  his  post,  had 
intelligence  of  all  these  circumstances,  and  per- 
ceived that  he  had  not  sufficient  force  to  make 
head  against  such  a  formidable  neighbor,  and 
that  in  fact  the  whole  frontier,  so  recently  wrested 
from  the  Moors,  was  in  danger  of  being  recon- 
quered. With  his  old  maxim,  therefore,  "  There 
is  more  life  in  one  word  from  the  mouth  than  in 
a  thousand  words  from  the  pen,"  he  determined 
to  have  another  interview  with  King  Fernando, 
and  acquaint  him  with  the  imminent  dangers  im- 
pending over  the  frontier. 

He  accordingly  took  his  departure  with  great 
secrecy,  leaving  his  countess  and  her  women  and 
donzellas  in  his  castle  of  the  rock  of  Martos, 
guarded  by  his  nephew  Don  Tello  and  forty 
chosen  men. 

The  departure  of  Don  Alvar  Perez  was  not  so 
secret,  however,  but  that  Aben  Alhamar  had 
notice  of  it  by  his  spies,  and  he  resolved  to  make 
an  attempt  to  surprise  the  castle  of  Martos, 
which,  as  has  been  said,  was  the  key  to  all  this 
frontier. 

Don  Tello,  who  had  been  left  in  command  of 
the  fortress,  was  a  young  galliard,  full  of  the  fire 
of  youth,  and  he  had  several  hardy  and  adven- 
turous cavaliers  with  him,  among  whom  was 
Diego  Perez  de  Vargas,  surnamed  Machacha,  or 
the  Smasher,  for  his  exploits  at  the  battle  of 
Xerez  in  smashing  the  heads  of  the  Moors  with 
the  limb  of  an  olive-tree.  These  hot-blooded 
cavaliers,  looking  out  like  hawks  from  their 
mountain  hold,  were  seized  with  an  irresistible 
inclination  to  make  a  foray  into  the  lands  of  their 
Moorish  neighbors.  On  a  bright  morning  they 
accordingly  set  forth,  promising  the  donzellas  of 
the  castle  to  bring  them  jewels  and  rich  silks,  the 
spoils  of  Moorish  women. 

The  cavaliers  had  not  been  long  gone  when 
the  castle  was  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  trumpets, 
and  the  watchman  from  the  tower  gave  notice  of 
a  cloud  of  dust,  with  Moorish  banners  and  armor 
gleaming  through  it.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  Moor- 
ish king,  Aben  Alhamar,  who  pitched  his  tents 
before  the  castle. 

Great  was  the  consternation  that  reigned  with- 
in the  walls,  for  all  the  men  were  absent,  except- 


474 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


ing  one  or  two  necessary  for  the  service  of  the 
castle.  The  dames  and  donzellas  gave  themselves 
up  to  despair,  expecting  to  be  carried  away  cap- 
tive, perhaps  to  supply  some  Moorish  harem. 
The  countess,  however,  was  of  an  intrepid  spirit 
and  ready  invention.  Summoning  her  duefias  and 
damsels,  she  made  them  arrange  their  hair,  and 
dress  themselves  like  men,  take  weapons  in 
hand,  and  show  themselves  between  the  battle- 
ments. The  Moorish  king  was  deceived,  and 
supposed  the  fort  well  garrisoned.  He  was  de- 
terred, therefore,  from  attempting  to  take  it  by 
storm.  In  the  meantime  she  dispatched  a  mes- 
senger by  the  postern-gate,  with  orders  to  speed 
swiftly  in  quest  of  Don  Tello,  and  tell  him  the 
peril  of  the  fortress. 

At  hearing  these  tidings,  Don  Tello  and  his 
companions  turned  their  reins  and  spurred  back 
for  the  castle,  but  on  drawing  nigh,  they  saw  from 
a  hill  that  it  was  invested  by  a  numerous  host 
who  were  battering  the  walls.  It  was  an  appall- 
ing sight—  to  cut  their  way  through  such  a  force 
seemed  hopeless — yet  their  hearts  were  wrung 
with  anguish  when  they  thought  of  the  countess 
and  her  helpless  donzellas.  Upon  this,  Diego 
Perez  de  Vargas,  surnamed  Machacha,  stepped 
forward  and  proposed  to  form  a  forlorn  hope,  and 
attempt  to  force  a  passage  to  the  castle.  "  If  any 
of  us  succeed,"  said  he,  "  we  may  save  the  coun- 
tess and  the  rock;  if  we  fall,  we  shall  save  our 
souls  and  act  the  parts  of  good  cavaliers.  This 
rock  is  the  key  of  all  the  frontier,  on  which  the 
king  depends  to  get  possession  of  the  country. 
Shame  would  it  be  if  Moors  should  capture  it ; 
above  all  if  they  should  lead  away  our  honored 
countess  and  her  ladies  captive  before  our  eyes, 
while  our  lances  remain  unstained  by  blood  and 
we  unscarred  with  a  wound.  For  my  part,  I  would 
rather  die  than  see  it.  Life  is  but  short ;  we 
should  do  in  it  our  best.  So,  in  a  word,  cavaliers, 
if  you  refuse  to  join  me  I  will  take  my  leave  of 
you  and  do  what  I  can  with  my  single  arm." 

"Diego  Perez,"  cried  Don  Tello,  "you  have 
spoken  my  very  wishes  ;  I  will  stand  by  you  until 
the  death,  and  let  those  who  are  good  cavaliers 
and  hidalgos  follow  our  example." 

The  other  cavaliers  caught  fire  at  these  words  ; 
forming  a  solid  squadron,  they  put  spurs  to  their 
horses,  and  rushed  down  upon  the  Moors.  The 
first  who  broke  into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy  was 
Diego  Perez,  the  Smasher,  and  he  opened  a  way 
for  the  others.  Their  only  object  was  to  cut  their 
way  to  the  fortress  ;  so  they  fought  and  pressed 
forward.  The  most  of  them  got  to  the  rock  ; 
some  were  cut  off  by  the  Moors,  and  died  like 
valiant  knights,  fighting  to  the  last  gasp. 

When  the  Moorish  king  saw  the  daring  of  these 
cavaliers,  and  that  they  had  succeeded  in  rein- 
forcing the  garrison,  he  despaired  of  gaining  the 
castle  without  much  time,  trouble,  and  loss  of 
blood.  He  persuaded  himself,  therefore,  that  it 
was  not  worth  the  price,  and,  striking  his  tents, 
abandoned  the  siege.  Thus  the  rock  of  Martos 
was  saved  by  the  sagacity  of  the  countess  and 
the  prowess  of  Diego  Perez  de  Vargas,  surnamed 
the  Smasher. 

In  the  meantime,  Don  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro 
arrived  in  presence  of  the  king  at  Hutiel.  King 
Fernando  received  him  with  benignity,  but 
seemed  to  think  his  zeal  beyond  his  prudence  ; 
leaving  so  important  a  frontier  so  weakly  guarded, 
sinking  the  viceroy  in  the  courier,  and  coming  so 
far  to  give  by  word  of  mouth  what  might  easily 
have  been  communicated  by  letter.  He  felt  the 
value,  however,  of  his  loyalty  and  devotion,  but, 


furnishing  him  with  ample  funds,  requested  him 
to  lose  no  time  in  getting  back  to  his  post.  The 
count  set  out  on  his  return,  but  it  is  probable  the 
ardor  and  excitement  of  his  spirit  proved  fatal  to 
him,  for  he  was  seized  with  a  violent  fever  when 
on  the  journey,  and  died  in  the  town  of  Orgaz. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

ADEN  HUDIEL,  THE  MOORISH  KING  OF  MUR 
CIA,  BECOMES  THE  VASSAL  OF  KING  FER- 
NANDO.— ABEN  ALHAMAR  SEEKS  TO  DRIVE 
THE  CHRISTIANS  OUT  OF  ANDALUSIA.  — 
FERNANDO  TAKES  THE  FIELD  AGAINST 
HIM. — RAVAGES  OF  THE  KING. — HIS  LAST 
MEETING  WITH  THE  QUEEN-MOTHER. 

THE  death  of  Count  Alvar  Perez  de  Castro 
caused  deep  affliction  to  King  Fernando,  for  he 
considered  him  the  shield  of  the  frontier.  While 
he  was  at  Cordova,  or  at  his  rock  of  Martos,  the 
king  felt  as  assured  of  the  safety  of  the  border  as 
though  he  had  been  there  himself.  As  soon  as  he 
could  be  spared  from  Castile  and  Leon,  he  has- 
tened to  Cordova,  to  supply  the  loss  the  frontier 
had  sustained  in  the  person  of  his  vigilant  lieu- 
tenant. One  of  his  first  measures  was  to  effect  a 
truce  of  one  year  with  the  king  of  Granada — a 
measure  which  each  adopted  with  great  regret, 
compelled  by  his  several  policy  :  King  Fernando 
to  organize  and  secure  his  recent  conquests ; 
Aben  Alhamar  to  regulate  and  fortify  his  newly 
founded  kingdom.  Each  felt  that  he  had  a  power- 
ful enemy  to  encounter  and  a  desperate  struggle 
before  him. 

King  Fernando  remained  at  Cordova  until  the 
spring  of  the  following  year  (1241),  regulating 
the  affairs  of  that  noble  city,  assigning  houses 
and  estates  to  such  of  his  cavaliers  as  had  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  the  conquest,  and,  as 
usual,  making  rich  donations  of  towns  and  great 
tracts  of  land  to  the  Church  and  to  different  re- 
ligious orders.  Leaving  his  brother  Alfonso  with 
a  sufficient  force  to  keep  an  eye  upon  the  king 
of  Granada  and  hold  him  in  check,  King  Fer- 
nando departed  for  Castile,  making  a  circuit  by 
Jaen  and  Baeza  and  Andujar,  and  arriving  in 
Toledo  on  the  fourth  of  April.  Here  he  received 
important  propositions  from  Aben  Hudiel,  the 
Moorish  king  of  Murcia.  The  death  of  Aben 
Hud  had  left  that  kingdom  a  scene  of  confusion. 
The  alcaydes  of  the  different  cities  and  fortresses 
were  at  strife  with  each  other,  and  many  refused 
allegiance  to  Aben  Hudiel.  The  latter,  too,  was 
in  hostility  with  Aben  Alhamar,  the  king  of 
Granada,  and  he  feared  he  would  take  advantage 
of  his  truce  with  King  Fernando,  and  the  dis- 
tracted state  of  the  kingdom  of  Murcia,  to  make 
an  inroad.  Thus  desperately  situated,  Aben 
Hudiel  had  sent  missives  to  King  Fernando,  en- 
treating his  protection,  and  offering  to  become 
his  vassal. 

The  king  of  Castile  gladly  closed  with  this 
offer.  He  forthwith  sent  his  son  and  heir,  the 
Prince  Alfonso,  to  receive  the  submission  of  the 
king  of  Murcia.  As  the  prince  was  young  and 
inexperienced  in  these  affairs  of  state,  he  sent 
with  him  Don  Pelayo  de  Correa,  the  Grand  Mas- 
ter of  Santiago,  a  cavalier  of  consummate  wisdom 
and  address,  and  also  Rodrigo  Gonzalez  Giron. 
The  prince  was  received  in  Murcia  with  regal 
honors  ;  the  terms  were  soon  adjusted  by  which 
the  Moorish  king  acknowledged  vassalage  to 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


475 


King  Fernando,  and  ceded  to  him  one-half  of  his 
revenues,  in  return  for  which  the  king  graciously 
took  him  under  his  protection.  The  alcaydes  of 
Alicant,  Elche,  Oriola,  and  several  other  places, 
agreed  to  this  covenant  of  vassalage,  but  it  was 
indignantly  spurned  by  the  Wali  of  Lorca;  he 
had  been  put  in  office  by  Aben  Hud  ;  and,  now 
that  potentate  was  no  more,  he  aspired  to  exer- 
cise an  independent  sway,  and  had  placed  al- 
caydes of  his  own  party  in  Mula  and  Carthagena. 

As  the  prince  Alfonso  had  come  to  solemnize 
the  act  of  homage  and  vassalage  proposed  by  the 
Moorish  king,  and  not  to  extort  submission  from 
his  subjects  by  force  of  arms,  he  contented  him- 
self with  making  a  progress  through  the  kingdom 
and  receiving  the  homage  of  the  acquiescent 
towns  and  cities,  after  which  he  rejoined  his 
father  in  Castile. 

It  is  conceived  by  the  worthy  Fray  Antonio 
Agapida,  as  well  as  by  other  monkish  chroni- 
clers, that  this  important  acquisition  of  territory 
by  the  saintly  Fernando  was  a  boon  from  Heaven 
in  reward  of  an  offering  which  lie  made  to  God 
of  his  daughter  Berenguela,  whom  early  in  this 
year  he  dedicated  as  a  nun  in  the  convent  of  Las 
Huelgas,  in  Burgos — of  which  convent  the  king's 
sister  Constanza  was  abbess.* 

About  this  time  it  was  that  King  Fernando 
gave  an  instance  of  his  magnanimity  and  his 
chivalrous  disposition.  We  have  seen  the  deadly 
opposition  he  had  experienced  from  the  haughty 
house  of  Lara,  and  the  ruin  which  the  three 
brothers  brought  upon  themselves  by  their  trai- 
torous hostility.  The  anger  of  the  king  was  ap- 
peased by  their  individual  ruin  ;  he  did  not  desire 
to  revenge  himself  upon  their  helpless  families, 
nor  to  break  down  and  annihilate  a  house  lofty 
and  honored  in  the  traditions  of  Spain.  One  of 
the  brothers,  Don  Fernando,  had  left  a  daughter, 
Dofia  Sancha  Fernandez  de  Lara ;  there  hap- 
pened at  this  time  to  be  in  Spain  a  cousin-german 
of  the  king,  a  prince  of  Portugal,  Don  Fernando 
by  name,  who  held  the  senoria  of  Serpa.  Between 
this  prince  and  Dona  Sancha  the  king  effected  a 
marriage,  whence  has  sprung  one  of  the  most 
illustrious  branches  of  the  ancient  house  of  Lara.f 
The  other  daughters  of  Don  Fernando  retained 
large  possessions  in  Castile  ;  and  one  of  his  sons 
will  be  found  serving  valiantly  under  the  standard 
of  the  king. 

In  the  meantime  the  truce  with  Aben  Alhamar, 
the  king  of  Granada,  had  greatly  strengthened 
the  hands  of  that  monarch.  He  had  received 
accessions  of  troops  from  various  parts,  had  for- 
tified his  capital  and  his  frontiers,  and  now 
fomented  disturbances  in  the  neighboring  king- 
dom of  Murcia  —  encouraging  the  refractory 
cities  to  persist  in  their  refusal  of  vassalage — 
hoping  to  annex  that  kingdom  to  his  own  newly 
consolidated  dominions. 

The  Wali  of  Lorca  and  his  partisans,  the  al- 
caydes of  Mula  and  Carthagena,  thus  instigated 
by  the  king  of  Granada,  now  increased  in  turbu- 
lence, and  completely  overawed  the  feeble-handed 
Aben  Hudiel.  King  Fernando  thought  this  a 
good  opportunity  to  give  his  son  and  heir  his  first 
essay  in  arms.  He  accordingly  dispatched  the 
prince  a  second  time  to  Murcia,  accompanied 
as  before  by  Don  Pelayo  de  Correa,  the  Grand 
Master  of  Santiago  ;  but  he  sent  him  now  with  a 
strong  military  force,  to  play  the  part  of  a  con- 
queror. The  conquest,  as  may  be  supposed,  was 

*Cronica  del  Rey  Santo,  cap.  13. 

f  Notas  para  la  Vida  del  Santo  Key,  p.  554. 


easy ;  Mula,  Lorca,  and  Carthagena  soon  sub- 
mitted, and  the  whole  kingdom  was  reduced  to 
vassalage — Fernando  henceforth  adding  to  his 
other  titles  King  of  Murcia.  "  Thus,"  says  Fray 
Antonio  Agapida,  "was  another  precious  jewel 
wrested  from  the  kingdom  of  Antichrist,  and 
added  to  the  crown  of  this  saintly  monarch." 

But  it  was  not  in  Murcia  alone  that  King 
Fernando  found  himself  called  to  contend  with 
his  new  adversary  the  king  of  Granada.  That 
able  and  active  monarch,  strengthened  as  has 
been  said  during  the  late  truce,  had  made  bold 
forays  in  the  frontiers  recently  conquered  by 
King  Fernando,  and  had  even  extended  them  to 
the  neighborhood  of  Cordova.  In  all  this  he 
had  been  encouraged  by  some  degree  of  negli- 
gence and  inaction  on  the  part  of  King  Fer- 
nando's  brother  Alfonso,  who  had  been  left  in 
charge  of  the  frontier.  The  prince  took  the  field 
against  Aben  Alhamar,  and  fought  him  manfully  ; 
but  the  Moorish  force  was  too  powerful  to  be 
withstood,  and  the  prince  was  defeated. 

Tidings  of  this  was  sent  to  King  Fernando, 
and  of  the  great  danger  of  the  frontier,  as  Aben 
Alhamar,  flushed  with  success,  was  aiming  to 
drive  the  Christians  out  of  Andalusia.  King 
Fernando  immediately  set  off  for  the  frontier, 
accompanied  by  the  Queen  Juana.  He  did  not 
wait  to  levy  a  powerful  force,  but  took  with  him 
a  small  number — knowing  the  loyalty  of  his  sub- 
jects and  their  belligerent  propensities,  and  that 
they  would  hasten  to  his  standard  the  moment 
they  knew  he  was  in  the  field  and  exposed  to 
danger.  His  force  accordingly  increased  as  he 
advanced.  At  Andujar  he  met  his  brother  Al- 
fonso with  the  relics  of  his  lately  defeated  army 
— all  brave  and  expert  soldiers.  He  had  now 
a  commanding  force,  and  leaving  the  queen  with 
a  sufficient  guard  at  Andujar,  he  set  off  with  his 
brother  Alfonso  and  Don  Nuno  Gonzalez  de  Lara, 
son  of  the  Count  Gonzalo,  to  scour  the  country 
about  Arjona,  Jaen,  and  Alcandcte.  The  Moors 
took  refuge  in  their  strong  places,  whence  they 
saw  with  aching  hearts  the  desolation  of  their 
country — olive  plantations  on  fire,  vineyards  laid 
waste,  groves  and  orchards  cut  down,  and  all 
the  other  modes  of  ravage  practised  in  these  un- 
sparing wars. 

The  King  of  Granada  did  not  venture  to  take 
the  field  ;  and  King  Fernando,  meeting  no  enemy 
to  contend  with,  while  ravaging  the  lands  of  Al- 
candete,  detached  a  part  of  his  force  under  Don 
Rodrigo  Fernandez  de  Castro,  a  son  of  the  brave 
Alvar  Perez  lately  deceased,  and  he  associated 
with  him  Nuno  Gonzales,  with  orders  to  besiege 
Arjona.  This  was  a  place  dear  to  Aben  Alha- 
mar, the  King  of  Granada,  being  his  native  place, 
where  he  had  first  tasted  the  sweets  of  power. 
Hence  he  was  commonly  called  the  King  of 
Arjona. 

The  people  of  the  place,  though  they  had 
quailed  before  King  Fernando,  despised  his  offi- 
cers and  set  them  at  defiance.  The  king  himself, 
however,  made  his  appearance  on  the  following 
day  with  the  remainder  of  his  forces,  whereupon 
Arjona  capitulated. 

While  his  troops  were  reposing  from  their 
fatigues,  the  king  made  some  further  ravages, 
and  reduced  several  small  towns  to  obedience. 
He  then  sent  his  brother  Don  Alfonso  with  suf- 
ficient forces  to  carry  fire  and  sword  into  the 
Vega  of  Granada.  In  the  meantime  he  returned 
to  Andujar  to  the  Queen  Juana.  He  merely 
came,  say  the  old  chroniclers,  for  the  purpose  of 
conducting  her  to  Cordova ;  fulfilling,  always, 


476 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


his  duty  as  a  cavalier,  without  neglecting  that  of 
a  king. 

The  moment  he  had  left  her  in  her  palace  at 
Cordova,  he  hastened  back  to  join  his  brother  in 
harassing  the  territories  of  Granada.  He  came 
in  time  ;  for  Aben  Alhamar,  enraged  at  seeing 
the  destruction  of  the  Vega,  made  such  a  vigor- 
ous sally  that  had  Prince  Alfonso  been  alone  in 
command,  he  might  have  received  a  second  les- 
son still  more  disastrous  than  the  first.  The 
presence  of  the  king,  however,  put  new  spirits 
and  valor  into  the  troops  :  the  Moors  were  driven 
back  to  the  city,  and  the  Christians  pursued  them 
to  the  very  gates.  As  the  king  had  not  sufficient 
forces  with  him  to  attempt  the  capture  of  this 
place,  he  contented  himself  with  the  mischief  he 
had  done,  and,  with  some  more  which  he  subse- 
quently effected,  he  returned  to  Cordova  to  let 
his  troops  rest  from  their  fatigues. 

While  the  king  was  in  this  city  a  messenger 
arrived  from  his  mother,  the  Queen  Berenguela, 
informing  him  of  her  intention  of  coming  to  pay 
him  a  visit.  A  long  time  had  elapsed  since  they 
had  seen  each  other,  and  her  extreme  age  ren- 
dered her  anxious  to  embrace  her  son.  The  king, 
to  prevent  her  from  taking  so  long  a  journey,  set 
off  to  meet  her,  taking  with  him  his  Queen  Juana. 
The  meeting  took  place  in  Pezuelo  near  Burgos,* 
and  was  affecting  on  both  sides,  for  never  did  son 
and  mother  love  and  honor  each  other  more 
truly.  In  this  interview,  the  queen  represented 
her  age  and  increasing  weakness,  and  her  in- 
capacity to  cope  with  the  fatigues  of  public 
affairs,  of  which  she  had  always  shared  the  bur- 
den with  the  king ;  she  therefore  signified  her 
wish  to  retire  to  her  convent,  to  pass  the  remnant 
of  her  days  in  holy  repose.  King  Fernando,  who 
had  ever  found  in  his  mother  his  ablest  counsellor 
and  best  support,  entreated  her  not  to  leave  his 
side  in  these  arduous  times,  when  the  King  of 
Granada  on  one  side,  and  the  King  of  Seville  on 
the  other,  threatened  to  put  all  his  courage  and 
resources  to  the  trial.  A  long  and  earnest,  yet 
tender  and  affectionate,  conversation  succeeded 
between  them,  which  resulted  in  the  queen- 
mother's  yielding  to  his  solicitations.  The  illus- 
trious son  and  mother  remained  together  six 
weeks,  enjoying  each  other's  society,  after  which 
they  separated — the  king  and  queen  for  the  fron- 
tier, and  the  queen-mother  for  Toledo.  They 
were  never  to  behold  each  other  again  upon 
earth,  for  the  king  never  returned  to  Castile. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

KING  FERNANDO'S  EXPEDITION  TO  ANDALUSIA. — 
SIEGE  OF  JAEN. — SECRET  DEPARTURE  OF 
ABEN  ALHAMAR  FOR  THE  CHRISTIAN  CAMP. 
— HE  ACKNOWLEDGES  HIMSELF  THE  VAS- 
SAL OF  THE  KING,  WHO  ENTERS  JAEN  IN 
TRIUMPH. 

IT  was  in  the  middle  of  August,  1245,  that  King 
Fernando  set  out  on  his  grand  expedition  to 
Andalusia,  whence  he  was  never  to  return.  All 
that  autumn  he  pursued  the  same  destructive 
course  as  in  his  preceding  campaigns,  laying 
waste  the  country  with  fire  and  sword  in  the 
vicinity  of  Jaen  and  to  Alcala  la  Real.  The  town, 

*  Some  chronicles,  through  mistake,  make  it  Pezuelo 
near  Ciudal  Real,  in  the  mountains  on  the  confines  of 
Granada. 


too,  of  Illora,  built  on  a  lofty  rock  and  fancying 
itself  secure,  was  captured  and  given  a  prey  to 
flames,  which  was  as  a  bale  fire  to  the  country. 
Thence  he  descended  into  the  beautiful  Vega  of 
Granada,  ravaging  that  earthly  paradise.  Aben 
Alhamar  sallied  forth  from  Granada  with  what 
forces  he  could  collect,  and  a  bloody  battle  ensued 
about  twelve  miles  from  Granada.  A  part  of  the 
troops  oY  Aben  Alhamar  were  hasty  levies,  in- 
habitants of  the  city,  and  but  little  accustomed  to 
combat ;  they  lost  courage,  gave  way,  and  threw 
the  better  part  of  the  troops  in  disorder  ;  a  retreat 
took  place  which  ended  in  a  headlong  flight,  in 
which  there  was  great  carnage.* 

Content  for  the  present  with  the  ravage  he  had 
made  and  the  victory  he  had  gained,  King 
Fernando  now  drew  off  his  trpops  and  repaired  to 
his  frontier  hold  of  Martos,  where  they  might  rest 
after  their  fatigues  in  security. 

Here  he  was  joined  by  Don  Pelayo  Perez  Cor- 
rca,  the  Grand  Master  of  Santiago.  This  valiant 
cavalier,  who  was  as  sage  and  shrewd  in  council 
as  he  was  adroit  and  daring  in  the  field,  had  aided 
the  youthful  Prince  Alfonso  in  completing  the 
tranquillization  of  Murcia,  and  leaving  him  in  the 
quiet  administration  of  affairs  in  that  kingdom,  had 
since  been  on  a  pious  and  political  mission  to  the 
court  of  Rome.  He  arrived  most  opportunely  at 
Martos,  to  aid  the  king  with  his  counsels,  for  there 
was  none  in  whose  wisdom  and  loyalty  the  king 
had  more  confidence. 

The  grand  master  listened  to  all  the  plans  of 
the  king  for  the  humiliation  of  the  haughty  King 
of  Granada  ;  he  then  gravely  but  most  respectfully 
objected  to  the  course  the  king  was  pursuing.  He 
held  the  mere  ravaging  the  country  of  little  ulti- 
mate benefit.  It  harassed  and  irritated,  but  did 
not  destroy  the  enemy,  while  it  fatigued  and  de- 
moralized the  army.  To  conquer  the  country, 
they  must  not  lay  waste  the  field,  but  take  the 
towns  ;  so  long  as  the  Moors  retained  their  strong- 
holds, so  long  they  had  dominion  over  the  land. 
He  advised,  therefore,  as  a  signal  blow  to  the 
power  of  the  Moorish  king,  the  capture  of  the 
city  of  Jaen.  This  was  a  city  of  immense  strength, 
the  bulwark  of  the  kingdom  ;  it  was  well  supplied 
with  provisions  and  the  munitions  of  war  ;  strongly 
garrisoned  and  commanded  by  Abu  Omar,  native 
of  Cordova,  a  general  of  cavalry,  and  one  of  the 
bravest  officers  of  Aben  Alhamar.  King  Fer- 
nando had  already  besieged  it  in  vain,  but  the 
reasoning  of  the  grand  master  had  either  con- 
vinced his  reason  or  touched  his  pride.  He  set 
himself  down  before  the  walls  of  Jaen,  declaring 
he  would  never  raise  the  siege  until  he  was  mas- 
ter of  the  place.  For  a  long  time  the  siege  was 
carried  on  in  the  depth  of  winter,  in  defiance  of 
rain  and  tempests.  Aben  Alhamar  was  in  despair  : 
he  could  not  relieve  the  place  ;  he  could  not  again 
venture  on  a  battle  with  the  king  after  his  late  de- 
feat. He  saw  that  Jaen  must  fall,  and  feared  it 
would  be  followed  by  the  fall  of  Granada.  He  was 
a  man  of  ardent  spirit  and  quick  and  generous  im- 
pulses. Taking  a  sudden  resolution,  he  departed 
secretly  for  the  Christian  camp,  and  made  his  \vay 
to  the  presence  of  King  Fernando.  "  Behold  be- 
fore you,"  said  he,  "the  King  of  Granada.  Re- 
sistance I  find  unavailing  ;  I  come,  trusting  to 
your  magnanimity  and  good  faith,  to  put  myself 
under  your  protection  and  acknowledge  myself 
your  vassal."  So  saying,  he  knelt  and  kissed  the 
king's  hand  in  token  of  homage. 

"  King    Fernando,"   say  the   old    chroniclers, 


*  Conde,  torn.  iii.  c.  5. 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


477 


"  was  not  to  be  outdone  in  generosity.  He  raised 
his  late  enemy  from  the  earth,  embraced  him  as 
a  friend,  and  left  him  in  the  sovereignty  of  his  do- 
minions ;  the  good  king,  however,  was  as  politic 
as  he  was  generous.  He  received  Aben  Alhamar 
as  a  vassal ;  conditioned  for  the  delivery  of  Jaen 
into  his  hands  ;  for  the  yearly  payment  of  one  half 
of  his  revenues  ;  for  his  attendance  at  the  cortes 
as  one  of  the  nobles  of  the  empire,  and  his  aiding 
Castile  in  war  with  a  certain  number  of  horse- 
men." 

In  compliance  with. these  conditions,  Jaen  was 
given  up  to  the  Christian  king,  who  entered  it  in 
triumph  about  the  end  of  February.*  His  first 
care  was  to  repair  in  grand  procession,  bearing 
the  holy  cross,  to  the  principal  mosque,  which 
was  purified  and  sanctified  by  the  Bishop  of  Cor- 
dova, and  erected  into  a  cathedral  and  dedicated 
to  the  most  holy  Virgin  Mary. 

He  remained  some  time  in  Jaen,  giving  repose 
to  his  troops,  regulating  the  affairs  of  this  impor- 
tant place,  disposing  of  houses  and  estates  among 
his  warriors  who,  had  most  distinguished  them- 
selves, and  amply  rewarding  the  priests  and  monks 
who  had  aided  him  with  their  prayers. 

As  to  Aben  Alhamar,  he  returned  to  Granada, 
relieved  from  apprehension  of  impending  ruin  to 
his  kingdom,  but  deeply  humiliated  at  having  to 
come  tinder  the  yoke  of  vassalage.  He  consoled 
himself  by  prosecuting  the  arts  of  peace,  improv- 
ing the  condition  of  his  people,  building  hospitals, 
founding  institutions  of  learning,  and  beautifying 
his  capital  with  those  magnificent  edifices  which 
remain  the  admiration  of  posterity ;  for  now  it 
was  that  he  commenced  to  build  the  Alhambra. 

NOTE. — There  is  some  dispute  among  historians  as  to 
the  duration  of  the  siege  and  the  date  of  the  surrender  of 
Jaen.  Some  make  the  siege  endure  eight  months,  from 
August  into  the  middle  of  April.  The  authentic  Agapida 
adopts  the  opinion  of  the  author  of  Notas  para  la  Vida 
del  Santo  A'ey,  etc.,  who  makes  the  siege  begin  on  the 
3 1st  December  and  end  about  the  26th  February. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AXATAF,  KING  OF  SEVILLE,  EXASPERATED  AT 
THE  SUBMISSION  OF  THE  KING  OF  GRAN- 
ADA, REJECTS  THE  PROPOSITIONS  OF  KING 
FERNANDO  FOR  A  TRUCE.  — THE  LAT- 
TER IS  ENCOURAGED  BY  A  VISION  TO  UN- 
DERTAKE THE  CONQUEST  OF  TH-E  CITY 
OF  SEVILLE. — DEATH  OF  QUEEN  BEREN- 
GUELA. — A  DIPLOMATIC  MARRIAGE. 

KING  FERNANDO,  having  reduced  the  fair 
kingdom  of  Granada  to  vassalage,  and  fortified 
himself  in  Andalusia  by  the  possession  of  the 
strong  city  of  Jaen,  bethought  him  now  of  re- 
turning to  Castile.  There  was  but  one  Moorish 
potentate  in  Spain  whose  hostilities  he  had  to 
fear  :  this  was  Axataf,  the  King  of  Seville.  He 
was  the  son  of  Aben  Hud,  and  succeeded  to  a 
portion  of  his  territories.  Warned  by  the  signal 
defeat  of  his  father  at  Xerez,  he  had  forborne  to 
take  the  field  against  the  Christians,  but  had 
spared  no  pains  and  expense  to  put  the  city  of 
Seville  in  the  highest  state  of  defence  ;  strength- 
ening its  walls  and  towers,  providing  it  with  mu- 
nitions of  war  of  all  kinds,  and  exercising  his 
people  continually  in  the  use  of  arms.  King 


*  Notas  para  la  Vida,  del  Santo  Rey,  p.  562. 


Fernando  was  loth  to  leave  this  great  frontier  in 
its  present  unsettled  state,  with  such  a  powerful 
enemy  in  the  neighborhood,  who  might  take  ad- 
vantage of  his  absence  to  break  into  open  hostil- 
ity ;  still  it  was  his  policy  to  let  the  sword  rest  in 
the  sheath  until  he  had  completely  secured  his 
new  possessions.  He  sought,  therefore,  to  make 
a  truce  with  King  Axataf,  and,  to  enforce  his 
propositions,  it  is  said  he  appeared  with  his  army 
before  Seville  in  May,  1246.*  His  propositions 
were  rejected,  as  it  were,  at  the  very  gate.  It 
appears  that  the  King  of  Seville  was  exasperated 
rather  than  dismayed  by  the  submission  of  the 
King  of  Granada.  He  felt  that  on  himself  de- 
pended the  last  hope  of  Islamism  in  Spain ;  he 
trusted  on  aid  from  the  coast  of  Barbary,  with 
which  his  capital  had  ready  communication  by 
water  ;  and  he  resolved  to  make  a  bold  stand  in 
the  cause  of  his  faith. 

King  Fernando  retired  indignant  from  before 
Seville,  and  repaired  to  Cordova,  with  the  pious 
determination  to  punish  the  obstinacy  and  hum- 
ble the  pride  of  the  infidel,  by  planting  the 
standard  of  the  cross  on  the  walls  of  his  capital. 
Seville  once  in  his  power,  the  rest  of  Andalusia 
would  soon  follow,  and  then  his  triumph  over  the 
sect  of  Mahomet  would  be  complete.  Other 
reasons  may  have  concurred  to  make  him  covet 
the  conquest  of  Seville.  It  was  a  city  of  great 
splendor  and  wealth,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a 
fertile  country,  in  a  genial  climate,  under  a  be- 
nignant sky  ;  and  having  by  its  river,  the  Guad- 
alquivir, an  open  highway  for  commerce,  it  was 
the  metropolis  of  all  Morisma — a  world  of  wealth 
and  delight  within  itself. 

These  were  sufficient  reasons  for  aiming  at  the 
conquest  of  this  famous  city,  but  these  were  not 
sufficient  to  satisfy  the  holy  friars  who  have  writ- 
ten the  history  of  this  monarch,  and  who  have 
found  a  reason  more  befitting  his  character  of 
saint.  Accordingly  we  are  told,  by  the  worthy 
Fray  Antonio  Agapida,  that  at  a  time  when  the 
king  was  in  deep  affliction  for  the  death  of  his 
mother,  the  Queen  Berenguela,  and  was  praying 
with  great  fervor,  there  appeared  before  him 
Saint  Isidro,  the  great  Apostle  of  Spain,  who  had 
been  Archbishop  of  Seville  in  old  times,  before 
the  perdition  of  Spain  by  the  Moors.  As  the 
monarch  gazed  in  reverend  wonder  at  the  vision, 
the  saint  laid  on  him  a  solemn  injunction  to 
rescue  from  the  empire  of  Mahomet  his  city  of 
Seville.  "  Que  asi  la  llamo  por  suya  en  la  patria, 
suya  en  la  silla,  y  suya  en  la  proteccion." 
"Such,"  says  Agapida,  "was  the  true  reason 
why  this  pious  king  undertook  the  conquest  of 
Seville;"  and  in  this  assertion  he  is  supported 
by  many  Spanish  chroniclers  ;  and  by  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  Church — the  vision  of  San  Isidro 
being  read  to  this  day  among  its  services. f 

The  death  of  Queen  Berenguela,  to  which  we 
have  just  adverted,  happened  some  months  after 
the  conquest  of  Jaen  and  submission  of  Granada. 
The  grief  of  the  king  on  hearing  the  tidings,  we 
are  told,  was  past  description.  For  a  time  it 
quite  overwhelmed  him.  "  Nor  is  it  much  to  be 
marvelled  at,"  says  an  old  chronicler  ;  "for  never 
did  monarch  lose  a  mother  so  noble  and  magnan- 
imous in  all  her  actions.  She  was  indeed  accom- 
plished in  all  things,  an  example  of  every  virtue, 
the  mirror  of  Castile  and  Leon  and  all  Spain,  by 
whose  counsel  and  wisdom  the  affairs  of  many 
kingdoms  were  governed.  This  noble  queen," 


*  Ibid.,  p.  572. 

f  Rodriguez,  Memorias  del  Santo  Rey,  c.  IviiL 


478 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


continues  the  chronicler,  "  was  deplored  in  all 
the  cities,  towns,  and  villages  of  Castile  and 
Leon ;  by  all  people,  great  and  small,  but  espe- 
cially by  poor  cavaliers,  to  whom  she  was  ever  a 
benefactress."  * 

Another  heavy  loss  to  King  Fernando,  about 
this  time,  was  that  of  the  Archbishop  of  Toledo, 
Don  Rodrigo,  the  great  adviser  of  the  king  in  all 
his  expeditions,  and  the  prelate  who  first  preached 
the  grand  crusade  in  Spain.  He  lived  a  life  of 
piety,  activity,  and  zeal,  and  died  full  of  years, 
of  honors,  and  of  riches — having  received  princely 
estates  and  vast  revenues  from  the  king  in  reward 
of  his  services  in  the  cause. 

These  private  afflictions  for  a  time  occupied 
the  royal  mind  ;  the  king  was  also  a  little  dis- 
turbed by  some  rash  proceedings  of  his  son,  the 
hereditary  Prince  Alfonso,  who,  being  left  in  the 
government  of  Murcia,  took  a  notion  of  imitating 
his  father  in  his  conquests,  and  made  an  inroad 
into  the  Moorish  kingdom  of  Valencia,  at  that 
time  in  a  state  of  confusion.  This  brought  on  a 
collision  with  King  Jayme  of  Aragon,  surnamed 
the  Conqueror,  who  had  laid  his  hand  upon  all 
Valencia,  as  his  by  right  of  arms.  There  was 
thus  danger  of  a  rupture  with  Aragon,  and  of 
King  Fernando  having  an  enemy  on  his  back, 
while  busied  in  his  wars  in  Andalusia.  Fortu- 
nately King  Jayme  had  a  fair  daughter,  the  Prin- 
cess Violante  ;  and  the  grave  diplomatists  of  the 
two  courts  determined  that  it  were  better  the  t\vo 
children  should  marry,  than  the  two  fathers 
should  fight.  To  this  arrangement  King  Fer- 
nando and  King  Jayme  gladly  assented.  They 
were  both  of  the  same  faith ;  both  proud  of  the 
name  of  Christian  ;  both  zealous  in  driving  Ma- 
hometanism  out  of  Spain,  and  in  augmenting 
their  empires  with  its  spoils.  The  marriage  was 
accordingly  solemnized  in  Valladolid  in  the  month 
of  November  in  this  same  year ;  and  now  the 
saintly  King  Fernando  turned  his  whole  energies 
to  this  great  and  crowning  achievement,  the  con- 
quest of  Seville,  the  emporium  of  Mahometanism 
in  Spain. 

Foreseeing,  as  long  as  the  mouth  of  the  Gua- 
dalquivir was  open,  the  city  could  receive  rein- 
forcements and  supplies  from  Africa,  the  king 
held  consultations  with  a  wealthy  man  of  Burgos, 
Ramon  Bonifaz,  or  Boniface,  by  name — some 
say  a  native  of  France — one  well  experienced 
in  maritime  affairs,  and  capable  of  fitting  out  and 
managing  a  fleet.  This  man  he  constituted  his 
admiral,  and  sent  him  to  Biscay  to  provide  and 
arm  a  fleet  of  ships  and  galleys,  with  which  to 
attack  Seville  by  water,  while  the  king  should  in- 
vest it  by  land. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

INVESTMENT  OF  SEVILLE. — ALL  SPAIN  AROUSED 
TO  ARMS. — SURRENDER  OF  ALCALA  DEL 
RIO.  —  THE  FLEET  OF  ADMIRAL  RAMON 
BONIFAZ  ADVANCES  UP  THE  GUADALQUI- 
VIR.— DON  PELAYO  CORREA,  MASTER  OF 
SANTIAGO.  —  HIS  VALOROUS  DEEDS  AND 
THE  MIRACLES  WROUGHT  IN  HIS  BEHALF. 

WHEN  it  was  bruited  about  that  King  Fer- 
nando the  Saint  intended  to  besiege  the  great 
city  of  Seville,  all  Spain  was  roused  to  arms. 
The  masters  of  the  various  military  and  religious 


*  Cronica  del  Rey  Don  Fernando,  c.  xiii. 


orders,  the  ricos  hombres,  the  princes,  cavaliers, 
hidalgos,  and  every  one  of  Castile  and  Leon 
capable  of  bearing  arms,  prepared  to  take  the 
field.  Many  of  the  nobility  of  Catalonia  and 
Portugal  repaired  to  the  standard  of  the  king,  as 
did  other  cavaliers  of  worth  and  prowess  from 
lands  far  beyond  the  Pyrenees. 

Prelates,  priests,  and  monks  likewise  thronged 
to  the  army — some  to  take  care  of  the  souls  of 
those  who  hazarded  their  lives  in  this  holy  enter- 
prise, others  with  a  zealous  determination  to 
grasp  buckler  and  lance,  and  battle  with  the  arm 
of  flesh  against  the  enemies  of  God  and  the 
Church. 

At  the  opening  of  spring  the  assembled  host 
issued  forth  in  shining  array  from  the  gates  of 
Cordova.  After  having  gained  possession  of  Car- 
mona,  and  Lora  and  Alcolea,  and  of  other  neigh- 
boring places  —  some  by  voluntary  surrender, 
others  by  force  of  arms  —  the  king  crossed  the 
Guadalquivir,  with  great  difficulty  and  peril,  and 
made  himself  master  of  several  of  the  most  im- 
portant posts  in  the  neighborhood  of  Seville. 
Among  these  was  Alcala  del  Rio,  a  place  of  great 
consequence,  through  which  passed  all  the  suc- 
cors from  the  mountains  to  the  city.  This  place 
was  bravely  defended  by  Axataf  in  person,  the 
commander  of  Seville.  He  remained  in  Alcala 
with  three  hundred  Moorish  cavaliers,  making 
frequent  sallies  upon  the  Christians,  and  effecting 
great  slaughter.  At  length  he  beheld  all  the 
country  around  laid  waste,  the  grain  burnt  or 
trampled  down,  the  vineyards  torn  up,  the  cattle 
driven  away  and  the  villages  consumed ;  so  that 
nothing  remained  to  give  sustenance  to  the  gar- 
rison or  the  inhabitants.  Not  daring  to  linger 
there  any  longer,  he  departed  secretly  in  the 
night  and  retired  to  Seville,  and  the  town  sur- 
rendered to  King  Fernando. 

While  the  king  was  putting  Alcala  del  Rio  in 
a  state  of  defence,  Admiral  Ramon  Bonifaz  ar- 
rived at  the  mouth  of  the  Guadalquivir  with  a 
fleet  of  thirteen  large  ships,  and  several  small 
vessels  and  galleys.  While  he  was  yet  hovering 
about  the  land,  he  heard  of  the  approach  of  a 
great  force  of  ships  for  Tangier,  Ceuta,  and 
Seville,  and  of  an  army  to  assail  him  from  the 
shores.  In  this  peril  he  sent  in  all  speed  for 
succor  to  the  king  ;  when  it  reached  the  sea- coast 
the  enemy  had  not  yet  appeared ;  wherefore, 
thinking  it  a  false  alarm,  the  reinforcement  re- 
turned to  the  camp.  Scarcely,  however,  had  it 
departed  when  the  Africans  came  swarming  over 
the  sea,  and  fell  upon  Ramon  Bonifaz  with  a 
greatly  superior  force.  The  admiral,  in  no  way 
dismayed,  defended  himself  vigorously — sunk 
several  of  the  enemy,  took  a  few  prizes,  and  put 
the  rest  to  flight,  remaining  master  of  the  river. 
The  king  had  heard  of  the  peril  of  the  fleet,  and, 
crossing  the  ford  of  the  river,  had  hastened  to  its 
aid  ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  sea-coast,  he  found 
it  victorious,  at  which  he  was  greatly  rejoiced, 
and  commanded  that  it  should  advance  higher 
up  the  river. 

It  was  on  the  twentieth  of  the  month  of  Au- 
gust that  King  Fernando  began  formally  the 
siege  of  Seville,  having  encamped  his  troops, 
small  in  number,  but  of  stout  hearts  and  valiant 
hands,  near  to  the  city  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 
From  hence  Don  Pelayo  Correa,  the  valiant 
Master  of  Santiago,  with  two  hundred  and  sixty 
horsemen,  many  of  whom  were  warlike  friars, 
attempted  to  cross  the  river  at  the  ford  below 
Aznal  Farache.  Upon  this,  Aben  Amaken, 
Moorish  king  of  Niebla,  sallied  forth  with  a  great 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE  SAINT. 


473 


host  to  defend  the  pass,  and  the  cavaliers  were 
exposed  to  imminent  peril,  until  the  king  sent 
one  hundred  cavaliers  to  their  aid,  led  on  by 
Rodrigo  Flores  and  Alonzo  Tellez  and  Fernan 
Dianez.  \ 

Thus  reinforced,  the  Master  of  Santiago  scoured 
the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  and  with  his  little 
army  of  scarce  four  hundred  horsemen,  mingled 
monks  and  soldiers,  spread  dismay  throughout 
the  country.  They  attacked  the  town  of  Gelbes, 
and,  after  a  desperate  combat,  entered  it,  sword 
in  hand,  slaying  or  capturing  the  Moors,  and 
making  rich  booty.  They  made  repeated  assaults 
upon  the  castle  of  Triana,  and  had  bloody  com- 
bats with  its  garrison,  but  could  not  take  the 
place.  This  hardy  band  of  cavaliers  had  pitched 
their  tents  and  formed  their  little  camp  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  below  the  castle  of  Aznal 
Farache.  This  fortress  was  situated  on  an  emi- 
nence above  the  river,  and  its  massive  ruins,  re- 
maining at  the  present  day,  attest  its  formidable 
strength. 

When  the  Moors  from  the  castle  towers  looked 
down  upon  this  little  camp  of  Christian  cavaliers, 
and  saw  them  sallying  forth  and  careering  about 
the  country,  and  returning  in  the  evenings  with 
cavalcades  of  sheep  and  cattle,  and  mules  laden 
with  spoil,  and  long  trains  of  captives,  they  were 
exceedingly  wroth,  and  they  kept  a  watch  upon 
them,  and  'sallied  forth  every  day  to  fight  with 
them,  and  to  intercept  stragglers  from  their  camp, 
and  to  carry  off  their  horses.  Then  the  cava- 
liers concerted  together,  and  they  lay  in  ambush 
one  day  in  the  road  by  which  the  Moors  were 
accustomed  to  sally  forth,  and  when  the  Moors 
had  partly  passed  their  ambush,  they  rushed 
forth  and  fell  upon  them,  and  killed  and  captured 
above  three  hundred,  and  pursued  the  remainder 
to  the  very  gates  of  the  castle.  From  that  time 
the  Moors  were  so  disheartened  that  they  made 
no  further  sallies. 

Shortly  after,  the  Master  of  Santiago  receiving 
secret  intelligence  that  a  Moorish  sea-captain  had 
passed  from  Seville  to  Triana,  on  his  way  to  suc- 
cor the  castle  of  Aznal  Farache,  placed  himself, 
with  a  number  of  chosen  cavaliers,  in  ambuscade 
at  a  pass  by  which  the  Moors  were  expected  to 
come.  After  waiting  a  long  time,  their  scouts 
brought  word  that  the  Moors  had  taken  another 
road,  and  were  nearly  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  on 
which  stood  the  castle.  "  Cavaliers,"  cried  the 
master,  "it  is  not  too  late  ;  let  us  first  use  our 
spurs  and  then  our  weapons,  and  if  our  steeds 
prove  good,  the  day  will  yet  be  ours."  So  say- 
ing, he  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  the  rest  fol- 
lowing his  example,  they  soon  came  in  sight  of 
the  Moors.  The  latter,  seeing  the  Christians 
coming  after  them  full  speed,  urged  their  horses 
up  the  hill  toward  the  castle,  but  the  Christians 
overtook  them  and  slew  seven  of  those  in  the 
rear.  In  the  skirmish,  Garci  Perez  struck  the 
Moorish  captain  from  his  horse  with  a  blow  of 
his  lance.  The  Christians  rushed  forward  to 
take  him  prisoner.  On  seeing  this,  the  Moors 
turned  back,  threw  themselves  between  their  com- 
mander and  his  assailants,  and  kept  the  latter  in 
check  while  he  was  conveyed  into  the  castle. 
Several  of  them  fell  covered  with  wounds  ;  the 
residue,  seeing  their  chieftain  safe,  turned  their 
reins  and  galloped  for  the  castle,  just  entering 
in  time  to  have  the  gates  closed  upon  their  pur- 
suers. 

Time  and  space  permit  not  to  recount  the 
many  other  valorous  deeds  of  Don  Pelayo  Cor- 
rea,  the  good  Master  of  Santiago,  and  his  band 


of  cavaliers  and  monks.  His  little  camp  became 
a  terror  to  the  neighborhood,  and  checked  the 
sallies  of  the  Moorish  mountaineers  from  the 
Sierra  Morena.  In  one  of  his  enterprises  he 
gained  a  signal  advantage  over  the  foe,  but  the 
approach  of  night  threatened  to  defraud  him  of 
his  victory.  Then  the  pious  warrior  lifted  up 
his  voice  and  supplicated  the  Virgin  Mary  in 
those  celebrated  words  :  "  Santa  Maria  deten  tu 
dia  "  (Holy  Mary,  detain  thy  day),  for  it  was  one 
of  the  days  consecrated  to  the  Virgin.  The 
blessed  Virgin  listened  to  the  prayer  of  her 
valiant  votary ;  the  daylight  continued  in  a  su- 
pernatural manner,  until  the  victory  of  the  good 
Master  of  Santiago  was  completed.  In  honor 
of  this  signal  favor,  he  afterward  erected  a  tem- 
ple to  the  Virgin  by  the  name  of  Nuestra  Senora 
de  Tentudia.* 

If  any  one  should  doubt  this  miracle,  wrought 
in  favor  of  this  pious  warrior  and  his  soldiers  of 
the  cowl,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  relate  another, 
which  immediately  succeeded,  and  which  shows 
how  peculiarly  he  was  under  the  favor  of  Hea- 
ven. After  the  battle  was  over,  his  followers 
were  ready  to  faint  with  thirst,  and  could  find  no 
stream  or  fountain  ;  and  when  the  good  master 
saw  the  distress  of  his  soldiers,  his  heart  was 
touched  with  compassion,  and,  bethinking  himself 
of  the  miracle  performed  by  Moses,  in  an  impulse 
of  holy  zeal  and  confidence,  and  in  the  name  of 
the  blessed  Virgin,  he  struck  the  dry  and  barren 
rock  with  his  lance,  and  instantly  there  gushed 
forth  a  fountain  of  water,  at  which  all  his  Chris- 
tian soldiery  drank  and  were  refreshed.!  So 
much  at  present  for  the  good  Master  of  Santiago, 
Don  Pelayo  Correa. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

KING    FERNANDO    CHANGES    HIS    CAMP. — GAltCI 
PEREZ   AND   THE   SEVEN    MOORS. 

Bancroft  Libraj 

KING  FERNANDO  the  Saint  soon  found  his 
encampment  on  the  banks  of  the  Guadalquivir 
too  much  exposed  to  the  sudden  sallies  and  insults 
of  the  Moors.  As  the  land  was  level,  they  easily 
scoured  the  fields,  carried  off  horses  and  stragglers 
from  the  camp,  and  kept  it  in  continual  alarm. 
He  drew  off,  therefore,  to  a  securer  place,  called 
Tablada,  the  same  where  at  present  is  situated 
the  hermitage  of  Nuestra  Senora  de  el  Balme. 
Here  he  had  a  profound  ditch  digged  all  around 
the  camp,  to  shut  up  the  passes  from  the  Moorish 
cavalry.  He  appointed  patrols  of  horsemen  also, 
completely  armed,  who  continually  made  the 
rounds  of  the  camp,  in  successive  bands,  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night. t  In  a  little  while  his 
army  was  increased  by  the  arrival  of  troops  from 
all  parts — nobles,  cavaliers,  and  rich  men,  with 
their  retainers — nor  were  there  wanting  holy 
prelates,  who  assumed  the  warrior,  and  brought 
large  squadrons  of  well-armed  vassals  to  the 
army.  Merchants  and  artificers  now  daily  ar- 
rived, and  wandering  minstrels,  and  people  of  all 
sorts,  and  the  camp  appeared  like  a  warlike  city, 
where  rich  and  sumptuous  merchandise  was 
mingled  with  the  splendor  of  arms ;  and  the 


*  Zuniga  :  Annales  de  Sevilla,  L.  r. 

f  Jacob  Paranes :  Lib.  de  los  Maestros  de  St.  lago. 
Cronica  Gotica,  T.  3,  §  xiii.  Zuniga ;  Annales  de  Se- 
villa. 

|  Cronica  Gotica,  T.  3,  §  viii. 


480 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


various  colors  of  the  tents  and  pavilions,  and  the 
fluttering  standards  and  pennons  bearing  the 
painted  devices  of  the  proudest  houses  of  Spain, 
were  gay  and  glorious  to  behold. 

When  the  king  had  established  the  camp  in 
Tablada  he  ordered  that  every  day  the  foragers 
should  sally  forth  in  search  of  provisions  and 
provender,  guarded  by  strong  bodies  of  troops. 
The  various  chiefs  of  the  army  took  turns  to 
command  the  guard  who  escorted  the  foragers. 
One  day  it  was  the  turn  of  Garci  Perez,  the  same 
cavalier  who  had  killed  the  king  of  the  Azules. 
He  was  a  hardy,  iron  warrior,  seasoned  and 
scarred  in  warfare,  and  renowned  among  both 
Moors  and  Christians  for  his  great  prowess,  his 
daring  courage,  and  his  coolness  in  the  midst  of 
danger.  Garci  Perez  had  lingered  in  the  camp 
until  some  time  after  the  foragers  had  departed, 
who  were  already  out  of  sight.  He  at  length 
set  out  to  join  them,  accompanied  by  another 
cavalier.  They  had  not  proceeded  far  before  they 
perceived  seven  Moorish  genetes,  or  light-horse- 
men, directly  in  their  road.  When  the  compan- 
ion of  Garci  Perez  beheld  such  a  formidable 
array  of  foes,  he  paused  and  said  :  "  Senor  Perez, 
let  us  return  ;  the  Moors  are  seven  and  we  but 
two,  and  there  is  no  law  in  the  duello  which 
obliges  us  to  make  front  against  such  fearful 
odds." 

To  this  Garci  Perez  replied  :  "  Sefior,  forward, 
always  forward  ;  let  us  continue  on  our  road  ; 
those  Moors  will  never  wait  for  us."  The  other 
cavalier,  however,  exclaimed  against  such  rash- 
ness, and  turning  the  reins  of  his  horse,  returned 
as  privately  as  possible  to  the  camp,  and  hast- 
ened to  his  tent. 

All  this  happened  within  sight  of  the  camp. 
The  king  was  at  the  door  of  his  royal  tent,  which 
stood  on  a  rising  ground  and  overlooked  the  place 
where  this  occurred.  When  the  king  saw  one 
cavalier  return  and  the  other  continue,  notwith- 
standing that  there  were  seven  Moors  in  the  road, 
he  ordered  that  some  horsemen  should  ride  forth 
to  his  aid. 

Upon  this  Don  Lorenzo  Xuarez,  who  was  with 
the  king  and  had  seen  Garci  Perez  sally  forth 
from  the  camp,  said  :  "  Your  majesty  may  leave 
that  cavalier  to  himself;  that  is  Garci  Perez, 
and  he  has  no  need  of  aid  against  seven  Moors. 
If  the  Moors  know  him  they  will  not  meddle  with 
him  ;  and  if  they  do,  your  majesty  will  see  what 
kind  of  a  cavalier  he  is." 

They  continued  to  watch  the  cavalier,  who 
rode  on  tranquilly  as  if  in  no  apprehension. 
When  he  drew  nigh  to  the  Moors,  who  were 
drawn  up  on  each  side  of  the  road,  he  took  his 
arms  from  his  squire  and  ordered  him  not  to 
separate  from  him.  As  he  was  lacing  his  morion, 
an  embroidered  cap  which  he  wore  on  his  head 
fell  to  the  ground  without  his  perceiving  it.  Hav- 
ing laced  the  capellina,  he  continued  on  his  way, 
and  his  squire  after  him.  When  the  Moors  saw 
him  near  by  they  knew  by  his  arms  that  it  was 
Garci  Perez,  and  bethinking  them  of  his  great 
renown  for  terrible  deeds  in  arms,  they  did  not 
dare  to  attack  him,  but  went  along  the  road  even 
\vith  him,  he  on  one  side,  they  on  the  other, 
making  menaces. 

Garci  Perez  went  on  his  road  with  great 
serenity,  without  making  any  movement.  When 
the  Moors  saw  that  he  heeded  not  their  menaces, 
they  turned  round  and  went  back  to  about  the 
place  where  he  dropped  his  cap. 

Having  arrived  at  some  distance  from  the 
Moors,  he  took  off  his  arms  to  return  them  to 


his  squire,  and  unlacing  the  capellina,  found  that 
the  cap  was  wanting.  He  asked  the  squire  for  it, 
but  the  latter  knew  nothing  about  it.  Seeing 
that  it  had  fallen,  he  again  demanded  his  arms 
of  the  squire  and  returned  in  search  of  it,  telling 
his  squire  to  keep  close  behind  him  and  look  out 
well  for  it.  The  squire  remonstrated.  "  What, 
sefior,"  said  he,  "will  you  return  and  place 
yourself  in  such  great  peril  for  a  mere  capa  ? 
Have  you  not  already  done  enough  for  your 
honor,  in  passing  so  daringly  by  seven  Moors, 
and  have  you  not  been  singularly  favored  by 
fortune  in  escaping  unhurt,  and  do  you  seek 
again  to  tempt  fortune  for  a  cap  ?  " 

"Say  no  more,"  replied  Garci  Perez;  "that 
cap  was  worked  for  me  by  a  fair  lady  ;  I  hold 
it  of  great  value.  Besides,  dost  thou  not  see 
that  I  have  not  a  head  to  be  without  a  cap*  " 
alluding  to  the  baldness  of  his  head,  which  had 
no  hair  in  front.  So  saying,  he  tranquilly  re- 
turned toward  the  Moors.  When  Don  Lorenzo 
Xuarez  saw  this,  he  said  to  the  king  :  "  Be- 
hold !  your  majesty,  how  Garci  Perez  turns  upon 
the  Moors  ;  since  they  will  not  make  an  attack, 
he  means  to  attack  them.  Now  your  majesty 
will  see  the  noble  valor  of  this  cavalier,  if  the 
Moors  dare  to  await  him."  When  the  Moors 
beheld  Garci  Perez  approaching  they  thought 
he  meant  to  assault  them,  and  drew  off,  not  dar- 
ing to  encounter  him.  When  Don  Lorenzo  saw 
this  he  exclaimed  : 

"Behold!  your  majesty,  the  truth  of  what  I 
told  you.  These  Moors  dare  not  wait  for  him. 
I  knew  well  the  valor  of  Garci  Perez,  and  it  ap- 
pears the  Moors  are  aware  of  it  likewise." 

In  the  mean  time  Garci  Perez  came  to  the 
place  where  the  capa  had  fallen,  and  beheld  it 
upon  the  earth.  Then  he  ordered  his  squire 
to  dismount  and  pick  it  up,  and  putting  it  de- 
liberately on  his  head,  he  continued  on  his  way  to 
the  foragers. 

When  he  returned  to  the  camp  from  guarding 
the  foragers,  Don  Lorenzo  asked  him,  in  presence 
of  the  king,  who  was  the  cavalier  who  had  set 
out  with  him  from  the  camp,  but  had  turned 
back  on  sight  of  the  Moors  ;  he  replied  that  he 
did  not  know  him,  and  he  was  confused,  for  he 
perceived  that  the  king  had  witnessed  what  had 
passed,  and  he  was  so  modest  withal,  that  he  was 
ever  embarrassed  when  his  deeds  were  praised  in 
his  presence. 

Don  Lorenzo  repeatedly  asked  him  who  was 
the  recreant  cavalier,  but  he  always  replied  that 
he  did  not  know,  although  he  knew  full  well 
and  saw  him  daily  in  the  camp.  But  he  was  too 
generous  to  say  anything  that  should  take  away 
the  fame  of  another,  and  he  charged  his  squire 
that  never,  by  word  or  look,  he  should  betray 
the  secret ;  so  that,  though  inquiries  were  often 
made,  the  name  of  that  cavalier  was  never  dis- 
covered. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

OF  THE  RAFT  BUILT  BY  THE  MOORS,  AND  HOW 
IT  WAS  BOARDED  BY  ADMIRAL  BONIFAZ. — • 
DESTRUCTION  OF  THE  MOORISH  FLEET. — 
SUCCOR  FROM  AFRICA. 

WHILE  the  army  of  King  Fernando  the  Saint 
harassed  the  city  by  land  and  cut  off  its  supplies, 
the  bold  Bonifaz,  with  his  fleet,  shut  up  the  river, 
prevented  all  succor  from  Africa,  and  menaced 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


481 


to  attack  the  bridge  between  Triana  and  Seville, 
by  which  the  city  derived  its  sustenance  from  the 
opposite  country.  The  Moors  saw  their  peril. 
If  this  pass  were  destroyed,  famine  must  be  the 
consequence,  and  the  multitude  of  their  soldiers, 
on  which  at  present  they  relied  for  safety,  would 
then  become  the  cause  of  their  destruction. 

So  the  Moors  devised  a  machine  by  which  they 
hoped  to  sweep  the  river  and  involve  the  invad- 
ing fleet  in  ruin.  They  made  a  raft  so  wide  that 
it  reached  from  one  bank  to  the  other,  and  they 
placed  all  around  it  pots  and  vessels  filled  with 
resin,  pitch,  tar,  and  other  combustibles,  forming 
what  is  called  Greek  fire,  and  upon  it  was  a  great 
number  of  armed  men  ;  and  on  each  shore — 
from  the  castle  of  Triana  on  the  one  side,  and 
from  the  city  on  the  other — sallied  forth  legions 
of  troops,  to  advance  at  the  same  time  with  the 
raft.  The  raft  was  preceded  by  several  vessels 
well  armed,  to  attack  the  Christian  ships,  while 
the  soldiers  on  the  raft  should  hurl  on  board  their 
pots  of  fire  ;  and  at  length,  setting  all  the  com- 
bustibles in  a  blaze,  should  send  the  raft  flaming 
into  the  midst  of  the  hostile  fleet,  and  wrap  it  in 
one  general  conflagration. 

When  everything  was  prepared,  the  Moors  set 
off  by  land  and  water,  confident  of  success.  But 
they  proceeded  in  a  wild,  irregular  manner, 
shouting  and  sounding  drums  and  trumpets,  and 
began  to  attack  the  Christian  ships  fiercely,  but 
without  concert,  hurling  their  pots  of  fire  from  a 
distance,  filling  the  air  with  smoke,  but  falling 
short  of  their  enemy.  The  tumultuous  uproar 
of  their  preparations  had  put  all  the  Christians 
on  their  guard.  The  bold  Bonifaz  waited  not  to 
be  assailed  ;  he  boarded  the  raft,  attacked  vigor- 
ously its  defenders,  put  many  of  them  to  the 
sword,  and  drove  the  rest  into  the  water,  and 
succeeded  in  extinguishing  the  Greek  fire.  He 
then  encountered  the  ships  of  war,  grappling 
them  and 'fighting  hand  to  hand  from  ship  to 
ship.  The  action  was  furious  and  bloody,  and 
lasted  all  the  day.  Many  were  cut  down  in 
flight,  many  fell  into  the  water,  and  many  in 
despair  threw  themselves  in  and  were  drowned. 

The  battle  had  raged  no  less  fiercely  upon  the 
land.  On  the  side  of  Seville,  the  troops  had 
issued  from  the  camp  of  King  Fernando,  while 
on  the  opposite  shore  the  brave  Master  of  San- 
tiago, Don  Pelayo  Perez  Correa,  with  his  war- 
riors and  fighting  friars,  had  made  sharp  work 
with  the  enemy.  In  this  way  a  triple  battle  was 
carried  on  ;  there  was  the  rush  of  squadrons,  the 
clash  of  arms,  and  the  din  of  drums  and  trum- 
pets on  either  bank,  while  the  river  was  covered 
with  vessels,  tearing  each  other  to  pieces  as  it 
were,  their  cr-cws  fighting  in  the  midst  of  flames 
and  smoke,  the  waves  red  with  blood  and  filled 
with  the  bodies  of  the  slain.  At  length  the 
Christians  were  victorious  ;  most  of  the  enemy's 
vessels  were  taken  or  destroyed,  and  on  either 
shore  the  Moors,  broken  and  discomfited,  fled — 
those  on  the  one  side  for  the  gates  of  Seville, 
and  those  on  the  other  for  the  castle  of  Triana 
— pursued  with  great  slaughter  by  the  victors. 

Notwithstanding  the  great  destruction  of  their 
fleet,  the  Moors  soon  renewed  their  attempts 
upon  the  ships  of  Ramon  Bonifaz,  for  they  knew 
that  the  salvation  of  the  city  required  the  freedom 
of  the  river.  Succor  arrived  from  Africa,  of 
ships,  with  troops  and  provisions;  they  rebuilt 
the  fire-ships  which  had  been  destroyed,  and  in- 
cessant combats,  feints,  and  stratagems  took  place 
daily,  both  on  land  and  water.  The  admiral 
stood  ia  great  dread  of  the  Greek  fire  used  by 
VOL.  IV.— 31 


the  Moors.  He  caused  large  stakes  of  wood  to 
be  placed  in  the  river,  to  prevent  the  passage  of 
the  fire-ships.  This  for  some  time  was  of  avail ; 
but  the  Moors,  watching  an  opportunity  when 
the  sentinels  were  asleep,  came  and  threw  cables 
round  the  stakes,  and  fastening  the  other  ends  to 
their  vessels,  made  all  sail,  and,  by  the  help  of 
wind  and  oars,  tore  away  the  stakes  and  carried 
them  off  with  shouts  of  triumph.  The  clamor- 
ous exultation  of  the  Moors  betrayed  them. 
The  Admiral  Bonifaz  was  aroused.  With  a  few 
of  the  lightest  of  his  vessels  he  immediately  pur- 
sued the  enemy.  He  came  upon  them  so  sud- 
denly that  they  were  too  much  bewildered  either 
to  fight  or  fly.  Some  threw  themselves  into  the 
waves  in  affright ;  others  attempted  to  make  re- 
sistance and  were  cut  down.  The  admiral  took 
four  barks  laden  with  arms  and  provisions,  and 
with  these  returned  in  triumph  to  his  fleet.* 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

OF  THE  STOUT  PRIOR,  FERRAN  RUYZ,  AND 
HOW  HE  RESCUED  HIS  CATTLE  FROM  THE 
MOORS.  —  FURTHER  ENTERPRISES  OF  THE 
PRIOR,  AND  OF  THE  AMBUSCADE  INTO 
WHICH  HE  FELL. 

IT  happened  one  day  that  a  great  part  of  the 
cavaliers  of  the  army  were  absent,  some  making 
cavalgadas  about  the  country,  others  guarding 
the  foragers,  and  others  gone  to  receive  the 
Prince  Alfonso,  who  was  on  his  way  to  the  camp 
from  Murcia.  At  this  time  ten  Moorish  cavaliers, 
of  the  brave  lineage  of  the  Azules,  finding  the 
Christian  camp  but  thinly  peopled,  came  prowl- 
ing about,  seeking  where  they  might  make  a  bold 
inroad.  As  they  were  on  the  lookout  they  came 
to  that  part  of  the  camp  where  were  the  tents  of 
the  stout  Friar  Fcrran  Ruyz,  prior  of  the  hos- 
pital. The  stout  prior,  and  his  righting  brethren, 
were  as  good  at  foraging  as  fighting.  Around 
their  quarters  there  were  several  sleek  cows  graz- 
ing, which  they  had  carried  off  from  the  Moors. 
When  the  Azules  saw  these,  they  thought  to 
make  a  good  prize,  and  to  bear  off  the  prior's 
cattle  as  a  trophy.  Careering  lightly  round, 
therefore,  between  the  cattle  and  the  camp,  they 
began  to  drive  them  toward  the  city.  The  alarm 
was  given  in  the  camp,  and  six  sturdy  friars  sal- 
lied forth,  on  foot,  with  two  cavaliers,  in  pursuit 
of  the  marauders.  The  prior  himself  was  roused 
by  the  noise  ;  when  he  heard  that  the  beeves  of 
the  Church  were  in  danger  his  ire  was  kindled  ; 
and  buckling  on  his  armor,  he  mounted  his  steed 
and  galloped  furiously  to  the  aid  of  his  valiant 
friars,  and  the  rescue  of  his  cattle.  The  Moors 
attempted  to  urge  on  the  lagging  and  full-fed 
kine,  but  finding  the  enemy  close  upon  them, 
they  were  obliged  to  abandon  their  spoil  among 
the  olive-trees,  and  to  retreat.  The  prior  then 
gave  the  cattle  in  charge  to  a  squire,  to  drive  them 
back  to  the  camp.  He  would  have  returned  him- 
self, but  his  friars  had  continued  on  for  some  dis- 
tance. The  stout  prior,  therefore,  gave  spurs  to 
his  horse  and  galloped  beyond  them,  to  turn  them 
back.  Suddenly  great  shouts  and  cries  arose  be- 
fore and  behind  him,  and  an  ambuscade  of 
Moors,  both  horse  and  foot,  came  rushing  out  of 
a  ravine.  The  stout  Prior  of  San  Juan  saw  that 
there  was  no  retreat ;  and  he  disdained  to  render 

*  Cronica  Gotica,  L.  3,  §  13.  Cronica  General,  pt.  4. 
Cronica  de  Sauto  Key,  c.  55. 


482 


CHRONICLE    OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


himself  a  prisoner.  Commending  himself  to  his 
patron  saint,  and  bracing  his  shield,  he  charged 
bravely  among  the  Moors,  and  began  to  lay 
about  him  with  a  holy  zeal  of  spirit  and  a  vigor- 
ous arm  of  flesh.  Every  blo\v  that  he  gave  was 
in  the  name  of  San  Juan,  and  every  blow  laid  an 
infidel  in  the  dust.  His  friars,  seeing  the  peril 
of  their  leader,  came  running  to  his  aid,  accom- 
panied by  a  number  of  cavaliers.  They  rushed 
into  the  fight,  shouting,  "  San  Juan!  San  Juan!" 
and  began  to  deal  such  sturdy  blows  as  savored 
more  of  the  camp  than  of  the  cloister.  Great 
and  fierce  was  this  struggle  between  cowl  and 
turban.  The  ground  was  strewn  with  bodies  of 
the  infidels ;  but  the  Christians  were  a  mere 
handful  among  a  multitude.  A  burly  friar,  com- 
mander of  Sietefilla,  was  struck  to  the  earth,  and 
his  shaven  head  cleft  by  a  blow  of  a  scimetar ; 
several  squires  and  cavaliers,  to  the  number  of 
twenty,  fell  covered  with  wounds  ;  yet  still  the 
stout  prior  and  his  brethren  continued  fighting 
with  desperate  fury,  shouting  incessantly,  "  San 
Juan!  San  Juan!  "and  dealing  their  blows  with 
as  good  heart  as  they  had  ever  dealt  benedictions 
on  their  followers. 

The  noise  of  this  skirmish,  and  the  holy  shouts 
of  the  fighting  friars,  resounded  through  the  camp, 
The  alarm  was  given,  "The  Prior  of  San  Juan 
is  surrounded  by  the  enemy!  To  the  rescue!  to 
the  rescue  !  "  The  whole  Christian  host  was  in 
agitation,  but  none  were  so  alert  as  those  holy 
warriors  of  the  Church,  Don  Garci,  Bishop  of 
Cordova,  and  Don  Sancho,  Bishop  of  Coria. 
Hastily  summoning  their  vassals,  horse  and  foot, 
they  bestrode  their  steeds,  with  cuirass  over  cas- 
sock, and  lance  instead  of  crosier,  and  set  off  at 
full  gallop  to  the  rescue  of  their  brother  saints. 
When  the  Moors  saw  the  warrior  bishops  and 
their  retainers  scouring  to  the  field,  they  gave 
over  the  contest,  and  leaving  the  prior  and  his 
companions,  they  drew  off  toward  the  city. 
Their  retreat  was  soon  changed  to  a  headlong 
flight ;  for  the  bishops,  not  content  with  rescuing 
the  prior,  continued  in  pursuit  of  his  assailants. 
The  Moorish  foot- soldiers  were  soon  overtaken 
and  either  slaughtered  or  made  prisoners  :  nor 
did  the  horsemen  make  good  their  retreat  into 
the  city,  until  the  powerful  arm  of  the  Church  had 
visited  their  rear  with  pious  vengeance.*  Nor  did 
the  chastisement  of  Heaven  end  here.  The  stout 
prior  of  the  hospital,  being  once  aroused,  was  full 
of  ardor  and  enterprise.  Concerting  with  the 
Prince  Don  Enrique,  and  the  Masters  of  Cala- 
trava  and  Alcantara,  and  the  valiant  Lorenzo 
Xuarez,  they  made  a  sudden  assault  by  night  on 
the  suburb  of  Seville  called  Benaljofar,  and  broke 
their  way  into  it  with  fire  and  sword.  The  Moors 
were  aroused  from  their  sleep  by  the  flames  of 
their  dwellings  and  the  shouts  of  the  Christians. 
There  was  hard  and  bloody  fighting.  The  prior 
of  the  hospital,  with  his  valiant  friars,  was  in  the 
fiercest  of  the  action,  and  their  war-cry  of  "  San 
Juan!  San  Juan!"  was  heard  in  all  parts  of  the 
suburb.  Many  houses  were  burnt,  many  sacked, 
many  Moors  slain  or  taken  prisoners,  and  the 
Christian  knights  and  warrior  friars,  having 
gathered  together  a  great  cavalgada  of  the  flocks 
and  herds  which  v/ere  in  the  suburb,  drove  it  off 
in  triumph  to  the  camp,  by  the  light  of  the  blaz- 
ing dwellings. 

A  like  inroad  was  made  by  the  prior  and  the 
same  cavaliers,  a  few  nights  afterward,  into  the 
suburb  called  Macarena,  which  they  laid  waste 


*  Cronica  General,  pt.  4,  p.  338. 


in  like  manner,  bearing  off  wealthy  spoils.  Such 
was  the  pious  vengeance  which  the  Moors  brought 
upon  themselves  by  meddling  with  the  kine  of 
the  stout  prior  of  the  hospital. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

BRAVADO  OF  THE  THREE  CAVALIERS. — AMBUSH 
AT  THE  BRIDGE  OVER  THE  GUADAYRA. — 
DESPERATE  VALOR  OF  GARCI  PEREZ.  — 
GRAND  ATTEMPT  OF  ADMIRAL  BONIFAZ  ON 
THE  BRIDGE  OF  BOATS. — SEVILLE  DISMEM- 
BERED FROM  TRIANA. 

OF  all  the  Christian  cavaliers  who  distinguished 
themselves  in  this  renowned  siege  of  Seville, 
there  was  none  who  surpassed  in  valor  the  bold 
Garci  Perez  de  Vargas.  This  hardy  knight  was 
truly  enamored  of  danger,  and  like  a  gamester 
with  his  gold,  he  seemed  to  have  no  pleasure  of  his 
life  except  in  putting  it  in  constant  jeopardy.  One 
of  the  greatest  friends  of  Garci  Perez  was  Don 
Lorenzo  Xuarez  Gallinato,  the  same  who  had 
boasted  of  the  valor  of  Garci  Perez  at  the  time 
that  he  exposed  himself  to  be  attacked  by  seven 
Moorish  horsemen.  They  were  not  merely  com- 
panions, but  rivals  in  arms  ;  for  in  this  siege  it 
was  the  custom  among  the  Christian  knights  to 
vie  with  each  other  in  acts  of  daring  enterprise. 

One  morning,  as  Garci  Perez,  Don  Lorenzo 
Xuarez,  and  a  third  cavalier,  named  Alfonso 
Tello,  were  on  horseback,  patrolling  the  skirts 
of  the  camp,  a  friendly  contest  arose  between 
them  as  to  who  was  most  adventurous  in  arms. 
To  settle  the  question,  it  was  determined  to  put 
the  proof  to  the  Moors,  by  going  alone  and 
striking  the  points  of  their  lances  in  the  gate  of 
the  city. 

No  sooner  was  this  mad  bravado  agreed  upon 
than  they  turned  the  reins  of  their  horses  and 
made  for  Seville.  The  Moorish  sentinels,  from 
the  towers  of  the  gate,  saw  three  Christian 
knights  advancing  over  the  plain,  and  supposed 
them  to  be  messengers  or  deserters  from  the 
army.  When  the  cavaliers  drew  near,  each 
struck  his  lance  against  the  gate,  and  wheeling 
round,  put  spurs  to  his  horse  and  retreated.  The 
Moors,  considering  this  a  scornful  defiance,  were 
violently  exasperated,  and  sallied  forth  in  great 
numbers  to  revenge  the  insult.  They  soon  were 
hard  on  the  traces  of  the  Christian  cavaliers. 
The  first  who  turned  to  fight  with  them  was 
Alfonso  Tello,  being  of  a  fiery  and  impatient 
spirit.  The  second  was  Garci  Perez  ;  the  third 
was  Don  Lorenzo,  who  waited  until  the  Moors 
came  up  with  them,  when  he  braced  his  shield, 
couched  his  lance,  and  took  the  whole  brunt  of 
their  charge.  A  desperate  fight  took  place,  for 
though  the  Moors  were  overwhelming  in  number, 
the  cavaliers  were  three  of  the  most  valiant  war- 
riors in  Spain.  The  conflict  was  beheld  from 
the  camp.  The  alarm  was  given  ;  the  Christian 
cavaliers  hastened  to  the  rescue  of  their  compan- 
ions in  arms ;  squadron  after  squadron  pressed 
to  the  field,  the  Moors  poured  out  reinforce- 
ments from  the  gate  ;  in  this  way  a  general  bat- 
tle ensued,  which  lasted  a  great  part  of  the 
day,  until  the  Moors  were  vanquished  and  driven 
within  their  walls. 

There  was  one  of  the  gates  of  Seville,  called 
the  gate  of  the  Alcazar,  which  led  out  to  a  small 
bridge  over  the  Guadayra.  Out  of  this  gate  the 
Moors  used  to  make  frequent  sallies,  to  fall  sud- 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


denly  upon  the  Christian  camp,  or  to  sweep  off 
the  flocks  and  herds  about  its  outskirts,  and  then 
to  scour  back  to  the  bridge,  beyond  which  it  was 
dangerous  to  pursue  them. 

The  defense  of  this  part  of  the  camp  was  in- 
trusted to  those  two  valiant  compeers  in  arms, 
Garci  Perez  de  Vargas  and  Don  Lorenzo  Xuarez  ; 
and  they  determined  to  take  ample  revenge 
upon  the  Moors  for  all  the  depredations  they  had 
committed.  They  chose,  therefore,  about  two 
hundred  hardy  cavaliers,  the  flower  of  those 
seasoned  warriors  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Guadalquivir,  who  formed  the  little  army  of  the 
good  Master  of  Santiago.  When  they  were  all 
assembled  together,  Don  Lorenzo  put  them  in 
ambush,  in  the  way  by  which  the  Moors  were 
accustomed  to  pass  in  their  maraudings,  and 
he  instructed  them,  in  pursuing  the  Moors,  to 
stop  at  the  bridge,  and  by  no  means  to  pass  be- 
yond it ;  for  between  it  and  the  city  there  was  a 
great  host  of  the  enemy,  and  the  bridge  was  so 
narrow  that  to  retreat  over  it  would  be  perilous 
in  the  extreme.  This  order  was  given  to  all, 
but  was  particularly  intended  for  Garci  Perez, 
to  restrain  his  daring  spirit,  which  was  ever  apt 
to  run  into  peril. 

They  had  not  been  long  in  ambush  when  they 
heard  the  distant  tramp  of  the  enemy  upon  the 
bridge,  and  found  that  the  Moors  were  upon  the 
forage.  They  kept  concealed,  and  the  Moors 
passed  by  them  in  careless  and  irregular  manner, 
as  men  apprehending  no  danger.  Scarce  had 
they  gone  by  when  the  cavaliers  rushed  forth, 
charged  into  the  midst  of  them,  and  threw  them 
all  into  confusion.  Many  were  killed  or  over- 
thrown in  the  shock,  the  rest  took  to  flight,  and 
made  at  full  speed  for  the  bridge.  Most  of  the 
Christian  soldiers,  according  to  orders,  stopped  at 
the  bridge  ;  but  Don  Lorenzo,  with  a  few  of  his 
cavaliers,  followed  the  enemy  half  way  across, 
making  great  havoc  in  that  narrow  pass.  Many 
of  the  Moors,  in  their  panic,  flung  themselves 
from  the  bridge,  and  perished  in  the  Guadayra ; 
others  were  cut  down  and  trampled  under  the 
hoofs  of  friends  and  foes.  Don  Lorenzo,  in  the 
heat  of  the  fight,  cried  aloud  incessantly,  defying 
the  Moors,  and  proclaiming  his  name, — "Turn 
hither!  turn  hither!  'Tis  I,  Lorenzo  Xuarez!" 
But  few  of  the  Moors  cared  to  look  him  in  the 
face. 

Don  Lorenzo  now  returned  to  his  cavaliers, 
but  on  looking  round,  Garci  Perez  was  not  to  be 
seen.  All  were  dismayed,  fearing  some  evil  for- 
tune had  befallen  him  ;  when,  on  casting  their 
eyes  beyond  the  bridge,  they  saw  him  on  the  op- 
posite side,  surrounded  by  Moors  and  fighting 
with  desperate  valor. 

"  Garci  Perez  has  deceived  us,"  said  Don  Lo- 
renzo, "and  has  passed  the  bridge,  contrary  to 
agreement.  But  to  the  rescue,  comrades  !  never 
let  it  be  said  that  so  good  a  cavalier  as  Garci 
Perez  was  lost  for  want  of  our  assistance."  So 
saying,  they  all  put  spurs  to  their  horses,  rushed 
again  upon  the  bridge,  and  broke  their  way 
across,  cutting  down  and  overturning  the  Moors, 
and  driving  great  numbers  to  fling  themselves 
into  the  river.  When  the  Moors  who  had  sur- 
rounded Garci  Perez  saw  this  band  of  cavaliers 
rushing  from  the  bridge,  they  turned  to  defend 
themselves.  The  contest  was  fierce,  but  broken; 
many  of  the  Moors  took  refuge  in  the  river,  but 
the  Christians  followed  and  slew  them  among  the 
waves.  They  continued  fighting  for  the  remain- 
der of  the  day,  quite  up  to  the  gate  of  the  Alca- 
zar ;  and  if  the  chronicles  of  the  times  speak  with 


their  usual  veracity,  full  three  thousand  infidels 
bit  the  dust  on  that  occasion.  When  Don  Lo- 
renzo returned  to  the  camp,  and  was  in  presence 
of  the  king  and  of  numerous  cavaliers,  great  en- 
comiums were  passed  upon  his  valor ;  but  he 
modestly  replied  that  Garci  Perez  had  that  day 
made  them  good  soldiers  by  force. 

From  that  time  forward  the  Moors  attempted 
no  further  inroads  into  the  camp,  so  severe  a 
lesson  had  they  received  from  these  brave  cava- 
liers.* 

The  city  of  Seville  was  connected  with  the 
suburb  of  Triana  by  a  strong  bridge  of  boats, 
fastened  together  by  massive  chains  of  iron.  By 
this  bridge  a  constant  communication  was  kept 
up  between  Triana  and  the  city,  and  mutual  aid 
and  support  passed  and  repassed.  While  this 
bridge  remained,  it  was  impossible  to  complete 
the  investment  of  the  city,  or  to  capture  the 
castle  of  Triana. 

The  bold  Admiral  Bonifaz  at  length  conceived 
a  plan  to  break  this  bridge  asunder,  and  thus  to 
cut  off  all  communication  between  the  city  and 
Triana.  No  sooner  had  this  idea  entered  his 
mind  than  he  landed,  and  proceeded  with  great 
speed  to  the  royal  tent,  to  lay  it  before  the  king. 
Then  a  consultation  was  summoned  by  the  king 
of  ancient  mariners  and  artificers  of  ships,  and 
other  persons  learned  in  maritime  affairs ;  and 
after  Admiral  Bonifaz  had  propounded  his  plan, 
it  was  thought  to  be  good,  and  all  preparations 
were  made  to  carry  it  into  effect.  The  admiral 
took  two  of  his  largest  and  strongest  ships,  and 
fortified  them  at  the  prows  with  solid  timber  and 
with  plates  of  iron  ;  and  he  put  within  them  a 
great  number  of  chosen  men,  well  armed  and 
provided  with  everything  for  attack  and  defense. 
Of  one  he  took  the  command  himself.  It  was 
the  third  day  of  May,  the  day  of  the  most  Holy 
Cross,  that  he  chose  for  this  grand  and  perilous 
attempt ;  and  the  pious  King  Fernando,  to  insure 
success,  ordered  that  a  cross  should  be  carried  as 
a  standard  at  the  mast-head  of  each  ship. 

On  the  third  of  May,  toward  the  hour  of  noon, 
the  two  ships  descended  the  Guadalquivir  for 
some  distance,  to  gain  room  to  come  up  with  the 
greater  violence.  Here  they  waited  the  rising  of 
the  tide,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  in  full  force,  and 
a  favorable  wind  had  sprung  up  from  the  sea, 
they  hoisted  anchor,  spread  all  sail,  and  put 
themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  current.  The 
whole  shores  were  lined  on  each  side  with  Chris- 
tian troops,  watching  the  event  with  great  anxiety. 
The  king  and  the  Prince  Alfonso,  with  their  war- 
riors, on  the  one  side  had  drawn  close  to  the  city 
to  prevent  the  sallying  forth  of  the  Moors,  while 
the  good  Master  of  Santiago,  Don  Pelayo  Perez 
Correa,  kept  watch  upon  the  gates  of  Triana. 
The  Moors  crowded  the  tops  of  their  towers, 
their  walls  and  house-tops,  and  prepared  engines 
and  weapons  of  all  kinds  to  overwhelm  the  ships 
with  destruction. 

Twice  the  bold  admiral  set  all  sail  and  started 
on  his  career,  and  twice  the  wind  died  away  be- 
fore he  had  proceeded  half  his  course.  Shouts 
of  joy  and  derision  rose  from  the  walls  and 
towers  of  Seville,  while  the  warriors  in  the  ships 
began  to  fear  that  their  attempt  would  be  unsuc- 
cessful. At  length  a  fresh  and  strong  wind  arose 
that  swelled  every  sail  and  sent  the  ships  plough- 
ing up  the  waves  of  the  Guadalquivir.  A  dead 


*  Cronica  General  de  Espana,  pt.  4.  Cronica  del 
Rey  Fernando  el  Santo,  c.  60.  Cronica  Gotica.  T.  3, 
p.  126. 


484 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


silence  prevailed  among  the  hosts  on  either  bank, 
even  the  Moors  remained  silent,  in  fixed  and 
breathless  suspense.  When  the  ships  arrived 
within  reach  of  the  walls  of  the  city  and  the  sub- 
urbs, a  tremendous  attack  was  commenced  from 
every  wall  and  tower ;  great  engines  discharged 
stones  and  offensive  weapons  of  all  kinds,  and 
flaming  pots  of  Greek  fire.  On  the  tower  of  gold 
were  stationed  catapults  and  vast  crossbows  that 
were  worked  with  cranks,  and  from  hence  an 
iron  shower  was  rained  upon  the  ships.  The 
Moors  in  Triana  were  equally  active  ;  from  every 
wall  and  turret,  from  house-tops,  and  from  the 
banks  of  the  river,  an  incessant  assault  was  kept 
up  with  catapults,  cross-bows,  slings,  darts,  and 
everything  that  could  annoy.  Through  all  this 
tempest  of  war,  the  ships  kept  on  their  course. 
The  first  ship  which  arrived  struck  the  bridge  on 
the  part  toward  Triana.  The  shock  resounded 
from  shore  to  shore,  the  whole  fabric  trembled, 
the  ship  recoiled  and  reeled,  but  the  bridge  was 
unbroken  ;  and  shouts  of  joy  rose  from  the  Moors 
on  each  side  of  the  river.  Immediately  after 
came  the  ship  of  the  admiral.  It  struck  the 
bridge  just  about  the  centre  with  a  tremendous 
crash.  The  iron  chains  which  bound  the  boats 
together  snapped  as  if  they  had  been  flax.  The 
boats  were  crushed  and  shattered  and  flung  wide 
asunder,  and  the  ship  of  the  admiral  proceeded 
in  triumph  through  the  open  space.  No  sooner 
did  the  king  and  the  Prince  Alfonso  see  the  suc- 
cess of  the  admiral,  than  they  pressed  with  their 
troops  closely  round  the  city,  and  prevented  the 
Moors  from  sallying  forth;  while  the  ships,  hav- 
ing accomplished  their  enterprise,  extricated 
themselves  from  their  dangerous  situation,  and 
returned  in  triumph  to  their  accustomed  anchor- 
age. This  was  the  fatal  blow  that  dismembered 
Seville  from  Triana,  and  insured  the  downfall  of 
t^e  citv 


INVESTMENT 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OF    TRIANA. — GARCI 
THE  INFANZON. 


PEREZ    AND 


ON  the  day  after  the  breaking  of  the  bridge, 
the  king,  the  Prince  Alfonso,  the  Prince  Enrique, 
the  various  masters  of  the  orders,  and  a  great 
part  of  the  army,  crossed  the  Guadalquivir  and 
commenced  an  attack  on  Triana,  while  the  bold 
Admiral  Bonifaz  approached  with  his  ships  and 
assaulted  the  place  from  the  water.  But  the 
Christian  army  was  unprovided  with  ladders  or 
machines  for  the  attack,  and  fought  to  great  dis- 
advantage. The  Moors,  from  the  safe  shelter  of 
their  walls  and  towers,  rained  a  shower  of  mis- 
siles of  all  kinds.  As  they  were  so  high  above 
the  Christians,  their  arrows,  darts,  and  lances 
came  with  the  greater  force.  They  were  skilful 
with  the  cross-bow,  and  had  engines  of  such  force 
that  the  darts  which  they  discharged  would  some- 
times pass  through  a  cavalier  all  armed,  and  bury 
themselves  in  the  earth.* 

The  very  women  combated  from  the  walls, 
and  hurled  down  stones  that  crushed  the  warriors 
beneath. 

While  the  army  was  closely  investing  Triana, 
and  fierce  encounters  were  daily  taking  place  be- 
tween Moor  and  Christian,  there  arrived  at  the 
camp  a  youthful  Infanzon,  or  noble,  of  proud  lin- 
eage. He  brought  with  him  a  shining  train  of 


*  Cronica  General,  pt.  4,  341. 


vassals,  all  newly  armed  and  appointed,  and  his 
own  armor,  all  fresh  and  lustrous,  showed  none 
of  the  dents  and  bruises  and  abuses  of  the  war. 
As  this  gay  and  gorgeous  cavalier  was  patrolling 
the  camp,  with  several  cavaliers,  he  beheld  Garci 
Perez  pass  by,  in  armor  and  accoutrements  all 
worn  and  soiled  by  the  hard  service  he  had  per- 
formed, and  he  saw  a  similar  device  to  his  own, 
of  white  waves,  emblazoned  on  the  scutcheon  of 
this  unknown  warrior.  Then  the  nobleman  was 
highly  ruffled  and  incensed,  and  he  exclaimed, 
"  How  is  this  ?  who  is  this  sorry  cavalier  that 
dares  to  bear  these  devices  ?  By  my  faith,  he 
must  either  give  them  up  or  show  his  reasons  for 
usurping  them."  The  other  cavaliers  exclaimed, 
"  Be  cautious  how  you  speak;  this  is  Garci  Pe- 
rez ;  a  braver  cavalier  wears  not  sword  in  Spain. 
For  all  he  goes  thus  modestly  and  quietly  about, 
he  is  a  very  lion  in  the  field,  nor  does  he  assume 
anything  that  he  cannot  well  maintain.  Should 
he  hear  this  which  you  have  said,  trust  us  he 
would  not  rest  quiet  until  he  had  terrible  satis- 
faction." 

Now  so  it  happened  that  certain  mischief- 
makers  carried  word  to  Garci  Perez  of  what  the 
nobleman  had  said,  expecting  to  see  him  burst 
into  fierce  indignation,  and  defy  the  other  to  the 
field.  But  Garci  Perez  remained  tranquil,  and 
said  not  a  word. 

Within  a  day  or  two  after,  there  was  a  sally 
from  the  castle  of  Triana  and  a  hot  skirmish  be- 
tween the  Moors  and  Christians  ;  and  Garci  Pe- 
rez and  the  Infanzon,  and  a  number  of  cavaliers, 
pursued  the  Moors  up  to  the  barriers  of  the  castle. 
Here  the  enemy  rallied  and  made  a  fierce  defence, 
and  killed  several  of  the  cavaliers.  But  Garci 
Perez  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  couching  his 
lance,  charged  among  the  thickest  of  the  foes, 
and  followed  by  a  handful  of  his  companions, 
drove  the  Moors  to  the  very  gates  of  Triana.  The 
Moors  seeing  how  few  were  their  pursuers,  turned 
upon  them,  and  dealt  bravely  with  sword  and 
lance  and  mace,  while  stones  and  darts  and  ar- 
rows were  rained  down  from  the  towers  above 
the  gates.  At  length  the  Moors  took  refuge 
within  the  walls,  leaving  the  field  to  the  victorious 
cavaliers.  Garci  Perez  drew  off  coolly  and  calmly 
amidst  a  shower  of  missiles  from  the  wall.  He 
came  out  of  the  battle  with  his  armor  all  battered 
and  defaced  ;  his  helmet  bruised,  the  crest  broken 
off,  and  his  buckler  so  dented  and  shattered  that 
the  device  could  scarcely  be  perceived.  On  re- 
turning to  the  barrier,  he  found  there  the  Infan- 
zon, with  his  armor  all  uninjured,  and  his  armorial 
bearing  as  fresh  as  if  just  emblazoned,  for  the 
vaunting  warrior  had  not  ventured  beyond  the 
barrier.  Then  Garci  Perez  drew  near  to  the  In- 
fanzon, and  eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot,  "  Senor 
cavalier,"  said  he,  ''you  may  well  dispute  my 
right  to  wear  this  honorable  device  in  my  shield, 
since  you  see  I  take  so  little  care  of  it  that  it  is 
almost  destroyed.  You,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
worthy  of  bearing  it.  You  are  the  guardian  angel 
of  honor,  since  you  guard  it  so  carefully  as  to  put 
it  to  no  risk.  I  will  only  observe  to  you  that  the 
sword  kept  in  the  scabbard  rusts,  and  the  valor 
that  is  never  put  to  the  proof  becomes  sullied."  * 

At  these  words  the  Infanzon  was  deeply  hu- 
miliated, for  he  saw  that  Garci  Perez  had  heard 
of  his  empty  speeches,  and  he  felt  how  unworthily 
he  had  spoken  of  so  valiant  and  magnanimous  a 
cavalier.  "  Senor  cavalier, "said  he,  "  pardon  my 
ignorance  and  presumption  ;  you  alone  are  worthy 

*  Cronica  General,  pt.  4.    Cronica  Gotica,  T.  3,  §  16. 


CHRONICLE   OF  FERNANDO   THE   SAINT. 


485 


of  bearing  those  arms,  for  you  uerive  not  nobility 
from  them,  but  ennoble  them  by  your  glorious 
deeds." 

Then  Garci  Perez  blushed  at  the  praises  he 
had  thus  drawn  upon  himself,  and  he  regretted 
the  harshness  of  his  words  toward  the  Infanzon, 
and  he  not  merely  pardoned  him  all  that  had 
passed,  but  gave  him  his  hand  in  pledge  of  amity, 
and  from  that  time  they  were  close  friends  and 
companions  in  arms.* 


CHAPTER  XX. 

CAPITULATION  OF  SEVILLE. — DISPERSION  OF 
THE  MOORISH  INHABITANTS. — TRIUMPH- 
ANT ENTRY  OF  KING  FERNANDO. 

ABOUT  this  time  there  arrived  in  Seville  a 
Moorish  alfaqui,  named  Orias,  with  a  large  com- 
pany of  warriors,  who  came  to  this  war  as  if 
performing  a  pilgrimage,  for  it  was  considered  a 
holy  war  no  less  by  infidels  than  Christians. 
This  Orias  was  of  a  politic  and  crafty  nature, 
and  he  suggested  to  the  commander  of  Seville  a 
stratagem  by  which  they  might  get  Prince 
Alfonso  in  their  power,  and  compel  King  Fer- 
nando to  raise  the  siege  by  way  of  ransom. 
The  counsel  of  Orias  was  adopted,  after  a  consul- 
tation with  the  principal  cavaliers,  and  measures 
taken  to  carry  it  into  execution  ;  a  Moor  was  sent, 
therefore,  as  if  secretly  and  by  stealth,  to  Prince 
Alfonso,  and  offered  to  put  him  in  possession  of 
two  towers  of  the  wall,  if  he  would  come  in  per- 
son to  receive  them,  which  towers  once  in  his 
possession,  it  would  be  easy  to  overpower  the 
city. 

Prince  Alfonso  listened  to  the  envoy  with  seem- 
ing eagerness,  but  suspected  some  deceit,  and 
thought  it  unwise  to  put  his  person  in  such  jeop- 
ardy. Lest,  however,  there  should  be  truth  in 
his  proposals,  a  party  of  chosen  cavaliers  were 
sent  as  if  to  take  possession  of  the  towers,  and 
with  them  was  Don  Pero  Nunez  de  Guzman, 
disguised  as  the  prince. 

When  they  came  to  the  place  where  the  Moors 
had  appointed  to  meet  them,  they  beheld  a  party 
of  infidels,  strongly  armed,  who  advanced  with 
sinister  looks,  and  attempted  to  surround  Don 
Nunez,  but  he,  being  on  his  guard,  put  spurs  to 
his  horse,  and,  breaking  through  the  midst  of 
them,  escaped.  His  companions  followed  his  ex- 
ample, all  but  one,  who  was  struck  from  his  horse 
and  cut  to  pieces  by  the  Moors.f 

Just  after  this  event  there  arrived  a  great  re- 
inforcement to  the  camp  from  the  city  of  Cor- 
dova, bringing  provisions  and  various  munitions 
of  war.  Finding  his  army  thus  increased,  the 
king  had  a  consultation  with  Admiral  Bonifaz, 
and  determined  completely  to  cut  off  all  commu- 
nication between  Seville  and  Triana,  for  the 
Moors  still  crossed  the  river  occasionally  by  ford- 
ing. When  they  were  about  to  carry  their  plan 
into  effect,  the  crafty  Alfaqui  Orias  crossed  to 
Triana,  accompanied  by  a  number  of  Ganzules. 
He  was  charged  with  instructions  to  the  garrison, 
and  to  concert  some  mode  of  reuniting  their 
forces,  or  of  effecting  some  blow  upon  the  Chris- 
tian camp  ;  for  unless  they  could  effect  a  union 


*  Cronica  General,  pt.  4.     Cronica  del  Rey  Santo. 
Cronica  Gotica,  T.  3,  §  16. 

f  Cronica  General,  pt.  4,  p.  424. 


and  co-operation,  it  would  be  impossible  to  make 
much  longer  resistance. 

Scarce  had  Orias  passed,  when  the  Christian 
sentinels  gave  notice.  Upon  this,  a  detachment 
of  the  Christian  army  immediately  crossed  and 
took  possession  of  the  opposite  shore,  and  Ad- 
miral Bonifaz  stationed  his  fleet  in  the  middle 
of  the  river.  Thus  the  return -of  Orias  was  pre- 
vented, and  all  intercourse  between  the  places, 
even  by  messenger,  completely  interrupted.  The 
city  and  Triana  were  now  severally  attacked,  and 
unable  to  render  each  other  assistance.  The 
Moors  were  daily  diminishing  in  number ;  many 
slain  in  battle,  many  taken  captive,  and  many 
dying  of  hunger  and  disease.  The  Christian 
forces  were  daily  augmenting,  and  were  animated 
by  continual  success,  whereas  mutiny  and  sedi- 
tion began  to  break  out  among  the  inhabitants  of 
the  city.  The  Moorish  commander  Axataf,  there- 
fore, seeing  all  further  resistance  vain,  sent  am- 
bassadors to  capitulate  with  King  Fernando.  It 
was  a  hard  and  humiliating  struggle  to  resign 
this  fair  city,  the  queen  of  Andalusia,  the  seat  of 
Moorish  sway  and  splendor,  and  which  had  been 
under  Moorish  domination  ever  since  the  Con- 
quest. 

The  valiant  Axataf  endeavored  to  make  vari- 
ous conditions  ;  that  King  Fernando  should  raise 
the  siege  on  receiving  the  tribute  which  had 
hitherto  been  paid  to  the  miramamolin.  This 
being  peremptorily  refused,  he  offered  to  give  up 
a  third  of  the  city,  and  then  half,  building  at  his 
own  cost  a  wall  to  divide  the  Moorish  part  from 
the  Christian.  King  Fernando,  however,  would 
listen  to  no  such  terms.  He  demanded  the  en- 
tire surrender  of  the  place,  with  the  exception  of 
the  persons  and  effects  of  the  inhabitants,  and 
permitting  the  commander  to  retain  possession 
of  St.  Lucar,  Aznal  Farache,  and  Niebla.  The 
commander  of  Seville  saw  the  sword  suspended 
over  his  head,  and  had  to  submit ;  the  capitula- 
tions of  the  surrender  were  signed,  when  Axataf 
made  one  last  request,  that  he  might  be  permit- 
ted to  demolish  the  grand  mosque  and  the  prin- 
cipal tower  (or  Giralda)  of  the  city.*  He  felt 
that  these  would  remain  perpetual  monuments 
of  his  disgrace.  The  Prince  Alfonso  was  present 
when  this  last  demand  was  made,  and  his  father 
looked  at  him  significantly,  as  if  he  desired  the 
reply  to  come  from  his  lips.  The  prince  rose  in- 
dignantly and  exclaimed,  that  if  there  should  be 
a  single  tile  missing  from  the  temple  or  a  single 
brick  from  the  tower,  it  should  be  paid  by  so 
many  lives  that  the  streets  of  Seville  should  run 
with  blood.  The  Moors  were  silenced  by  this 
reply,  and  prepared  with  heavy  hearts  to  fulfil 
the  capitulation.  One  month  was  allowed  them 
for  the  purpose,  the  alcazar  or  citadel  of  Seville 
being  given  up  to  the  Christians  as  a  security. 

On  the  twenty-third  day  of  November  this 
important  fortress  was  surrendered,  after  a  siege 
of  eighteen  months.  A  deputation  of  the  prin- 
cipal Moors  came  forth  and  presented  King  Fer- 
nando with  the  keys  of  the  city ;  at  the  same 
time  the  aljamia,  or  council  of  the  Jews,  pre- 
sented him  with  the  key  of  Jewry,  the  quarter  of 
the  city  which  they  inhabited.  This  key  was 
notable  for  its  curious  workmanship.  It  was 
formed  of  all  kinds  of  metals.  The  guards  of 
it  were  wrought  into  letters,  bearing  the  fol- 
lowing signification, — "  God  will  open— the  king 
will  enter."  On  the  ring  was  inscribed  in  Hebrew, 
— "  The  King  of  kings  will  enter;  all  the  world 


*  Mariana,  L.  13,  c.  7. 


486 


CHRONICLE   OF   FERNANDO  THE   SAINT. 


will  behold  him."  This  key  is  still  preserved  in 
the  cathedral  of  Seville,  in  the  place  where  re- 
pose the  remains  of  the  sainted  King  Fernando.* 

During  the  month  of  grace  the  Moors  sold 
such  of  their  effects  as  they  could  not  carry 
with  them,  and  the  king  provided  vessels  for 
such  as  chose  to  depart  for  Africa.  Upward 
of  one  hundred  thousand,  it  is  said,  were  thus 
convoyed  by  Admiral  Bonifaz,  while  upward  of 
two  hundred  thousand  dispersed  themselves 
throughout  such  of  the  territory  of  Andalusia 
as  still  remained  in  possession  of  the  Moors. 

When  the  month  was  expired,  and  the  city 
was  evacuated  by  its  Moorish  inhabitants,  King 
Fernando  the  Saint  entered  in  solemn  triumph, 
in  a  grand  religious  and  military  procession. 
There  were  all  the  captains  and  cavaliers  of 
the  army,  in  shining  armor,  with  the  prelates,  and 
masters  of  the  religious  and  military  orders,  and 
the  nobility  of  Castile,  Leon,  and  Aragon,  in 
their  richest  apparel.  The  streets  resounded 
with  the  swelling  notes  of  martial  music  and  with 
the  joyous  acclamations  of  the  multitude. 

In  the  midst  of  the  procession  was  the  venera- 
ble effigy  of  the  most  Holy  Mary,  on  a  triumphal 
car  of  silver,  wrought  with  admirable  skill ;  and 
immediately  after  followed  the  pious  king,  with  a 
drawn  sword  in  his  hand,  and  on  his  left  was 
Prince  Alfonso  and  the  other  princes. 

The  procession  advanced  to  the  principal 
mosque,  which  had  been  purified  and  conse- 
crated as  a  Christian  temple,  where  the  triumphal 
car  of  the  Holy  Virgin  was  placed  at  the  grand 
altar.  Here  the  pious  king  knelt  and  returned 
thanks  to  Heaven  and  the  Virgin  for  this  signal 
victory,  and  all  present  chanted  Te  Deum  Lau- 
damus. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
DEATH  OF  KING  FERNANDO. 

WHEN  King  Fernando  had  regulated  every- 
thing for  the  good  government  and  prosperity  of 
Seville,  he  sallied  forth  with  his  conquering  army 
to  subdue  the  surrounding  country.  He  soon 
brought  under  subjection  Xerez,  Medina,  Sidonia, 
Alua,  Bepel,  and  many  other  places  near  the  sea- 
coast  ;  some  surrendered  voluntarily,  others  were 
taken  by  force  ;  he  maintained  a  strict  peace 
with  his  vassal  the  King  of  Granada,  but  finding 
not  sufficient  scope  for  his  arms  in  Spain,  and 
being  inflamed  with  a  holy  zeal  in  the  cause  of  the 
faith,  he  determined  to  pass  over  into  Africa, 
and  retaliate  upon  the  Moslems  their  daring  in- 
vasion of  his  country.  For  this  purpose  he 
ordered  a  powerful  armada  to  be  prepared  in  the 
ports  of  Cantabria,  to  be  put  under  the  command 
of  the  bold  Admiral  Bonifaz. 

In  the  midst  of  his  preparations,  which  spread 
consternation  throughout  Mauritania,  the  pious 

*  In  Castile,  whenever  the  kings  entered  any  place 
where  there  was  a  synagogue,  the  Jews  assembled  in 
council  and  paid  to  the  Monteros,  or  bull-fighters, 
twelve  maravedis  each,  to  guard  them,  that  they  should 
receive  no  harm  from  the  Christians  ;  being  held  in 
such  contempt  and  odium,  that  it  was  necessary  they 
should  be  under  the  safeguard  of  the  king,  not  to  be  in- 
jured or  insulted.  (Zuniga:  Annales  de  Sevilla.) 


king  fell  dangerously  ill  at  Seville  of  a  dropsy. 
When  he  found  his  dying  hour  approaching,  he 
made  his  death-bed  confession,  and  requested  the 
holy  Sacrament  to  be  administered  to  him.  A 
train  of  bishops  and  other  clergy,  among  whom 
was  his  son  Philip,  Archbishop  of  Seville, 
brought  the  Sacrament  into  his  presence.  The 
king  rose  from  his  bed,  threw  himself  on  his 
knees,  with  a  rope  round  his  neck  and  a  crucifix 
in  his  hand,  and  poured  forth  his  soul  in  peni- 
tence and  prayer.  Having  received  the  -viatica 
and  the  holy  Sacrament,  he  commanded  all  orna- 
ments of  royalty  to  be  taken  from  his  chamber. 
He  assembled  his  children  round  his  bedside,  and 
blessed  his  son  the  Prince  Alfonso,  as  his  first- 
born and  the  heir  of  his  throne,  giving  him  ex- 
cellent advice  for  the  government  of  his  kingdom, 
and  charging  him  to  protect  the  interests  of  his 
brethren.  The  pious  king  afterward  fell  into  an 
ecstasy  or  trance,  in  which  he  beheld  angels 
watching  round  his  bed  to  bear  his  soul  to  hea- 
ven. He  awoke  from  this  in  a  state  of  heavenly 
rapture,  and,  asking  for  a  candle,  he  took  it  in 
his  hand  and  made  his  ultimate  profession  of  the 
faith.  He  then  requested  the  clergy  present  to 
repeat  the  litanies,  and  to  chant  the  Te  Dcnm 
Laudamus.  In  chanting  the  first  verse  of  the 
hymn,  the  king  gently  inclined  his  head,  with 
perfect  serenity  of  countenance,  and  rendered  up 
his  spirit.  "  The  hymn,"  says  the  ancient  chron- 
icle, "  which  was  begun  on  earth  by  men,  was 
continued  by  the  voices  of  angels,  which  wer 
heard  by  all  present."  These  doubtless  were  the 
angels  which  the  king  in  his  ecstasy  had  beheld 
around  his  couch,  and  which  now  accompanied 
him,  in  his  glorious  ascent  to  heaven,  with  songs 
of  holy  triumph.  Nor  was  it  in  his  chamber 
alone  that  these  voices  were  heard,  but  in  all  the 
royal  alcazars  of  Seville,  the  sweetest  voices 
were  heard  in  the  air  arfd  seraphic  music,  as  of 
angelic  choirs,  at  the  moment  that  the  sainted 
king  expired.*  He  died  on  the  3oth  of  May, 
the  vespers  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  in  the  year  of 
the  Incarnation  one  thousand  two  hundred  and 
forty-two,  aged  seventy-three  years  —  having 
reigned  thirty-five  years  over  Castile  and  twenty 
over  Leon. 

Two  days  after  his  death  he  was  interred  in 
his  royal  chapel  in  the  Holy  Church,  in  a  sepul- 
chre of  alabaster,  which  still  remains.  It  is  as- 
serted by  grave  authors  that  at  the  time  of  put- 
ting his  body  in  the  sepulchre,  the  choir  of  angels 
again  was  heard  chanting  his  eulogium,  and  filling 
the  air  with  sweet  melody  in  praise  of  his  vir- 
tues, f 

When  Alhamar,  the  Moorish  king  of  Granada, 
heard  of  his  death,  he  caused  great  demonstra- 
tions of  mourning  to  be  made  throughout  his 
dominions.  During  his  life  he  sent  yearly  a 
number  of  Moors  with  one  hundred  wax  tapers, 
to  assist  at  his  exequies,  which  ceremony  was 
observed  by  his  successors,  until  the  time  of  the 
conquest  of  GranadA  by  Fernando  the  Catholic.  J 

*  Pablo  de  Espinosa  :  Grandesas  de  Sevilla,  fol.  146. 
Cronica  del  Santo  Key,  c.  78.  Cronica  Gotica,  T.  3, 
p.  166. 

f  Argoti  de  Molina  :  Nobleza  de  Andaluzia,  L.  I,  c. 
21.  Tomas  Bocio :  Signales  de  la  Iglesia,  L.  20. 
Don  Rodrigo  Sanchez,  Bishop  of  Palencia,  pt.  3,  c.  40. 

J  Pablo  de  Espinosa,  fol.  146. 


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